Of some good women: that the cruel tyrant Shall not deny me. Then I 'll post to Milan, Where somewhat I will speedily enact Worth my dejection. Exit [with the body]. Act V Scene I<120> [Enter] ANTONIO and DELIO ANTONIO. What think you of my hope of reconcilement To the Arragonian brethren? DELIO. I misdoubt it; For though they have sent their letters of safe-conduct For your repair to Milan, they appear But nets to entrap you. The Marquis of Pescara, Under whom you hold certain land in cheat,<121> Much 'gainst his noble nature hath been mov'd To seize those lands; and some of his dependants Are at this instant making it their suit To be invested in your revenues. I cannot think they mean well to your life That do deprive you of your means of life, Your living. ANTONIO. You are still an heretic<122> To any safety I can shape myself. DELIO. Here comes the marquis: I will make myself Petitioner for some part of your land, To know whither it is flying. ANTONIO. I pray, do. [Withdraws.] [Enter PESCARA] DELIO. Sir, I have a suit to you. PESCARA. To me? DELIO. An easy one: There is the Citadel of Saint Bennet, With some demesnes, of late in the possession Of Antonio Bologna,--please you bestow them on me. PESCARA. You are my friend; but this is such a suit, Nor fit for me to give, nor you to take. DELIO. No, sir? PESCARA. I will give you ample reason for 't Soon in private:--here 's the cardinal's mistress. [Enter JULIA] JULIA. My lord, I am grown your poor petitioner, And should be an ill beggar, had I not A great man's letter here, the cardinal's, To court you in my favour. [Gives a letter.] PESCARA. He entreats for you The Citadel of Saint Bennet, that belong'd To the banish'd Bologna. JULIA. Yes. PESCARA. I could not have thought of a friend I could rather Pleasure with it: 'tis yours. JULIA. Sir, I thank you; And he shall know how doubly I am engag'd Both in your gift, and speediness of giving Which makes your grant the greater. Exit. ANTONIO. How they fortify Themselves with my ruin! DELIO. Sir, I am Little bound to you. PESCARA. Why? DELIO. Because you deni'd this suit to me, and gave 't To such a creature. PESCARA. Do you know what it was? It was Antonio's land; not forfeited By course of law, but ravish'd from his throat By the cardinal's entreaty. It were not fit I should bestow so main a piece of wrong Upon my friend; 'tis a gratification Only due to a strumpet, for it is injustice. Shall I sprinkle the pure blood of innocents To make those followers I call my friends Look ruddier upon me? I am glad This land, ta'en from the owner by such wrong, Returns again unto so foul an use As salary for his lust. Learn, good Delio, To ask noble things of me, and you shall find I 'll be a noble giver. DELIO. You instruct me well. ANTONIO. Why, here 's a man now would fright impudence >From sauciest beggars. PESCARA. Prince Ferdinand 's come to Milan, Sick, as they give out, of an apoplexy; But some say 'tis a frenzy: I am going To visit him. Exit. ANTONIO. 'Tis a noble old fellow. DELIO. What course do you mean to take, Antonio? ANTONIO. This night I mean to venture all my fortune, Which is no more than a poor ling'ring life, To the cardinal's worst of malice. I have got Private access to his chamber; and intend To visit him about the mid of night, As once his brother did our noble duchess. It may be that the sudden apprehension Of danger,--for I 'll go in mine own shape,-- When he shall see it fraight<123> with love and duty, May draw the poison out of him, and work A friendly reconcilement. If it fail, Yet it shall rid me of this infamous calling; For better fall once than be ever falling. DELIO. I 'll second you in all danger; and howe'er, My life keeps rank with yours. ANTONIO. You are still my lov'd and best friend. Exeunt. Scene II<124> [Enter] PESCARA and DOCTOR PESCARA. Now, doctor, may I visit your patient? DOCTOR. If 't please your lordship; but he 's instantly To take the air here in the gallery By my direction. PESCARA. Pray thee, what 's his disease? DOCTOR. A very pestilent disease, my lord, They call lycanthropia. PESCARA. What 's that? I need a dictionary to 't. DOCTOR. I 'll tell you. In those that are possess'd with 't there o'erflows Such melancholy humour they imagine Themselves to be transformed into wolves; Steal forth to church-yards in the dead of night, And dig dead bodies up: as two nights since One met the duke 'bout midnight in a lane Behind Saint Mark's church, with the leg of a man Upon his shoulder; and he howl'd fearfully; Said he was a wolf, only the difference Was, a wolf's skin was hairy on the outside, His on the inside; bade them take their swords, Rip up his flesh, and try. Straight I was sent for, And, having minister'd to him, found his grace Very well recover'd. PESCARA. I am glad on 't. DOCTOR. Yet not without some fear Of a relapse. If he grow to his fit again, I 'll go a nearer way to work with him Than ever Paracelsus dream'd of; if They 'll give me leave, I 'll buffet his madness out of him. Stand aside; he comes. [Enter FERDINAND, CARDINAL, MALATESTI, and BOSOLA] FERDINAND. Leave me. MALATESTI. Why doth your lordship love this solitariness? FERDINAND. Eagles commonly fly alone: they are crows, daws, and starlings that flock together. Look, what 's that follows me? MALATESTI. Nothing, my lord. FERDINAND. Yes. MALATESTI. 'Tis your shadow. FERDINAND. Stay it; let it not haunt me. MALATESTI. Impossible, if you move, and the sun shine. FERDINAND. I will throttle it. [Throws himself down on his shadow.] MALATESTI. O, my lord, you are angry with nothing. FERDINAND. You are a fool: how is 't possible I should catch my shadow, unless I fall upon 't? When I go to hell, I mean to carry a bribe; for, look you, good gifts evermore make way for the worst persons. PESCARA. Rise, good my lord. FERDINAND. I am studying the art of patience. PESCARA. 'Tis a noble virtue. FERDINAND. To drive six snails before me from this town to Moscow; neither use goad nor whip to them, but let them take their own time; --the patient'st man i' th' world match me for an experiment:-- an I 'll crawl after like a sheep-biter.<125> CARDINAL. Force him up. [They raise him.] FERDINAND. Use me well, you were best. What I have done, I have done: I 'll confess nothing. DOCTOR. Now let me come to him.--Are you mad, my lord? are you out of your princely wits? FERDINAND. What 's he? PESCARA. Your doctor. FERDINAND. Let me have his beard saw'd off, and his eye-brows fil'd more civil. DOCTOR. I must do mad tricks with him, for that 's the only way on 't.--I have brought your grace a salamander's skin to keep you from sun-burning. FERDINAND. I have cruel sore eyes. DOCTOR. The white of a cockatrix's<126> egg is present remedy. FERDINAND. Let it be a new-laid one, you were best. Hide me from him: physicians are like kings,-- They brook no contradiction. DOCTOR. Now he begins to fear me: now let me alone with him. CARDINAL. How now! put off your gown! DOCTOR. Let me have some forty urinals filled with rosewater: he and I 'll go pelt one another with them.--Now he begins to fear me.--Can you fetch a frisk,<127> sir?--Let him go, let him go, upon my peril: I find by his eye he stands in awe of me; I 'll make him as tame as a dormouse. FERDINAND. Can you fetch your frisks, sir!--I will stamp him into a cullis,<128> flay off his skin to cover one of the anatomies<129> this rogue hath set i' th' cold yonder in Barber-Chirurgeon's-hall. --Hence, hence! you are all of you like beasts for sacrifice. [Throws the DOCTOR down and beats him.] There 's nothing left of you but tongue and belly, flattery and lechery. [Exit.] PESCARA. Doctor, he did not fear you thoroughly. DOCTOR. True; I was somewhat too forward. BOSOLA. Mercy upon me, what a fatal judgment Hath fall'n upon this Ferdinand! PESCARA. Knows your grace What accident hath brought unto the prince This strange distraction? CARDINAL. [Aside.] I must feign somewhat.--Thus they say it grew. You have heard it rumour'd, for these many years None of our family dies but there is seen The shape of an old woman, which is given By tradition to us to have been murder'd By her nephews for her riches. Such a figure One night, as the prince sat up late at 's book, Appear'd to him; when crying out for help, The gentleman of 's chamber found his grace All on a cold sweat, alter'd much in face And language: since which apparition, He hath grown worse and worse, and I much fear He cannot live. BOSOLA. Sir, I would speak with you. PESCARA. We 'll leave your grace, Wishing to the sick prince, our noble lord, All health of mind and body. CARDINAL. You are most welcome. [Exeunt PESCARA, MALATESTI, and DOCTOR.] Are you come? so.--[Aside.] This fellow must not know By any means I had intelligence In our duchess' death; for, though I counsell'd it, The full of all th' engagement seem'd to grow >From Ferdinand.--Now, sir, how fares our sister? I do not think but sorrow makes her look Like to an oft-dy'd garment: she shall now Take comfort from me. Why do you look so wildly? O, the fortune of your master here the prince Dejects you; but be you of happy comfort: If you 'll do one thing for me I 'll entreat, Though he had a cold tomb-stone o'er his bones,
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