Del. Harke: the dead stones seeme to have pity on you,

And give you good counsell.

Ant. Eccho, I will not talke with thee; For thou art a dead thing.

Ecc. Thou art a dead thing.

Ant. My dutchesse is asleepe now,

And her little-ones, I hope sweetly; ob Heaven! Shall I never see her more?

Ecc. Never see her more.

Ant. I mark'd not one repetition of the Eccho, But that and on the sudden, a cleare light

:

tification

Grew from the ruines of an ancient abbey :
And to yond side o' th' river lies a wall
(Piece of a cloyster), which in my opinion
Gives the best eccho that you ever heard;
So hollow, and so dismall, and withall
So plaine in the distinction of our words,
That many have suppos'd it is a spirit
That answers.

Ant. I do love these ancient ruines:
We never tread upon them, but we set
Our foot upon some reverend history;
And questionlesse, here in this open court
(Which now lies naked to the injuries
Of stormy weather) some lye enterr'd
Lov'd the church so well, and gave so largely
to 't,

They thought it should have canopide their bones Till doombs-day: but all things have their end: Churches and cities (which have diseases like to men)

Must have like death that we have.

Ecc. Like death that we have.

Del. Now the Eccho hath caught you. Ant. It groan'd (me thought), and gave A very deadly accent.

Ecc. Deadly accent.

Del. I told you 'twas a pretty one: you may make it

A huntes-man, or a faulconer, a musitian,
Or a thing of sorrow.

Ecc. A thing of sorrow.

Ant. I sure: that suites it best.

Ecc. That suites it best.

Ant. "Tis very like my wifes voyce.

Ecc. I, wifes-voyce.

Del. Come, let 's walke farther from 't:

I would not have you to' th' cardinals to night: Doe not.

Ecc. Do not.

Del. Wisdome doth not more moderate wasting sorrow

Del. Your fancy, meerely.

Ant. Come: I'le be out of this ague;
For to live thus, is not indeed to live:
It is a mockery and abuse of life;

I will not henceforth save my selfe by halves,
Lose all, or nothing.

Del. Your own vertue save you : I'le fetch your eldest sonne, aud second you: It may be that the sight of his owne blood Spread into so sweet a figure, may beget The more compassion. However, fare you well:

Though in our miseries, fortune have a part, Yet, in our noble suffrings, she bath none, Contempt of paine, that we may call our owne. [Exit.

SCENA IV.

Cardinall, PESCARA, MALATESTE, RODORICO, GRISOLAN, BOSOLA, FERDINAND, ANTONIO, Servant.

Card. You shall not watch to night by the sicke prince,

His grace is very well recover'd.
Mal. Good my lord suffer us.

Card. Oh, by no meanes:

The noise, and change of object in his eye,
Doth more distract him: I pray, all to bed,
And though you heare him in his violent fit,
Do not rise, I entreat you.

Pes. So sir, we shall not.

Card. Nay, I must have you promise Upon your honors, for I was enjoyn'd to 't By himselfe; and he seem'd to urge it sencibly. Pes. Let our honors binde this trifle.

Card. Nor any of your followers.

Mal. Neither.

Card. It may be to make triall of your pro

mise

Mal. If your throat were cutting,

I'll'd not come at you, now I have protested

Mal. 'Twas nothing but pure kindnesse in the devill,

To rocke his owne childe.

[Exeunt. Card. The reason why I would not suffer these About my brother, is, because at midnight I may with better privacy convay

Julias body to her owne lodging: O, my conscience!

I would pray now: but the devill takes away my heart

For having any confidence in prayer.
About this houre, I appointed Bosola

To fetch the body; when he hath serv'd my turne,
He dies.

[Exit. Bos. Hah! 'twas the cardinals voyce: I heard

him name

Bosola, and my death: listen, I heare ones footing.

Fer. Strangling is a very quiet death.

Bos. Nay then I see I must stand upon my guard.

Fer. What say to that? whisper, softly: doe you agree to 't?

So it must be done i' th' darke: the cardinall Would not for a thousand pounds the doctor should see it.

[Exit. Bos. My death is plotted; here's the consequence of murther.

We value not desert, nor Christian breath, When we know blacke deeds must be cur'd with death.

Serv. Here stay, sir, and be confident, I pray: I'll fetch you a dark lanthorne.

Ant. Cold I take him at his prayers,

There were hope of pardon.

Bos. Fall right my sword:

[Exit.

I'll not give thee so much leysure, as to pray. Ant. Oh, I am gone! thou hast ended a long suit

Wish my wounds balm'de, nor heal'd: for I have no use

To put my life to: in all our quest of greatnes,
(Like wanton boyes, whose pastime is their care,)
We follow after bubbles blowne i' th' ayre.
Pleasure of life, what is 't? only the good houres
Of an ague: meerely a preparative to rest,
To endure vexation: I doe not aske
The processe of my death: only commend me
To Delio.

Bos. Breake, heart!

Ant. And let my sonne fly the courts of princes.
Bos. Thou seem'st to have lov'd Antonio ?
Serv. I brought him hither,

To have reconcil'd him with the cardinall.
Bos. I doe not aske thee that:
Take him up, if thou tender thine owne life,
And beare him where the Lady Julia
Was wont to lodge. Oh! my fate moves swift.
I have this cardinall in the forge already,
Now I'le bring him to th' hammer: (Ŏ direfull
misprision!)

I will not imitate things glorious,
No more than base: I'le be mine owne example.
On, on, and looke thou represent, for silence,
The thing thou bear'st.

SCENA V.

[Exeunt.

Cardinall (with a Booke), Bosola, Pescara, MALATESTE, RODORICO, FERDINAND, DELIO, Servants with ANTONIO'S Body.

Card. I am puzzell'd in a question about hell: He saies, in hell there's one materiall fire, And yet it shall not burne all men alike. Lay him by how tedious is a guilty conscience! When I looke into the fish-ponds, in my garden, Me thinkes I see a thing, arm'd with a rake, That seemes to strike at me. Now? art thou

come? thou look'st ghastly;

There sits in thy face some great determination, Mix'd with some feare.

Bos. Thus it lightens into action:

I am come to kill thee,

Card. Hah! helpe: our guard!

Bos. Thou art deceiv'd:

They are out of thy howling.

Card. Hold: I will faithfully divide Revenues with thee.

Bos. Thy prayers and proffers
Are both unseasonable.

Card. Raise the watch! we are betraid!
Bos. I have confinde your flight:

I'le suffer your retrait to Julias chamber,
But no further.

Card. Helpe! we are betraid!
Mal. Listen.

Card. My dukedome, for rescew.
Rod. Fye upon his counterfeiting.
Mal. Why, 't is not the cardinall
Rod. Yes, yes, 't is he:

But I'le see him hang'd ere I'le go downe to him.

My brother fight upon the adverse party?
There flies your ransome.

[He wounds the Cardinall, and (in the scuffle) gives BosoLA his deaths wound. Card. Oh justice!

I suffer now, for what hath former bin: "Sorrow is held the eldest child of sin." Fer. Now you 're brave fellowes : Cæsars fortune was harder than Pompeys: Cæsar died in the armes of prosperity, Pompey at the feet of disgrace: you both died in the field;

The paine's nothing: paine many times is taken away with

The apprehension of greater, (as the tooth-ache with the sight

phylosophy for you.

Bos. Now my revenge is perfect: sinke (thou

maine cause

Of my undoing); the last part of my life
Hath done me best service.

[He kills FERDINAND. Fer. Give me some wet hay, I am broken

winded,

I do account this world but a dog-kenell :
I will vault credit, and affect high pleasures.
Bos. He seems to come to himselfe, now he's
so neer the bottome.

Fer. My sister, oh, my sister! there 's- the
cause on 't.

"Whether we fall by ambition, blood, or lust, "Like diamonds, we are cut with our owne dust." Card. Thou hast thy payment too.

Bos. Yes, I hold my weary soule in my teeth,
'Tis ready to part from me: I doe glory
That thou, which stoodst like a huge piramid,
Begun upon a large and ample base,

Shalt end in a little point, a kind of nothing.
Pes. How now (my lord?)
Mal. Ob sad disaster!
Rod. How comes this?

Bos. Revenge for the dutchesse of Malfy,
murdered

By th' Arragonian brethren: for Antonio,
Slaine by his hand for lustfull Julia,
Poyson'd by this man: and lastly, for my selfe,
(That was an actor in the maine of all,
Much 'gainst mine owne good nature, yet i' th'

end

Neglected.)

Pes. How now (my lord ?)

Card. Looke to my brother:

He gave us these large wounds, as we were strugling

Here i' th' rushes: and now, I pray, let me
Be laid by, and never thought of.

Pes. How fatally (it seemes) he did withstand His owne rescew?

Mal. Thou wretched thing of blood, How came Antonio by his death?

Bos. In a mist: I know not how;
Such a mistake, as I have often seene
In a play: Oh, I am gone!

We are only like dead walls, or vaulted graves,
That ruin'd, yeilds no eccho: fare you well.
It may be paine, but no harme to me to die,
In so good a quarrell: Oh this gloomy world!
In what a shadow, or deep pit of darknes,
Doth (womanish and fearefull) mankind live!
Let worthy minds ne're stagger in distrust.
To suffer death, or shame for what is just,
Mine is another voyage.

Pes. The noble Delio, as I came to th' palace,
Told me of Antonio's being here, and shew'd me
A pretty gentleman, his sonne and heire.
Mal. Oh, sir, you come too late.
Del. I heard so, and

[use

Was arin'd for 't ere I came : let us make noble