Your elder brother, the Lord Ferdinand, Is come to visit you, and sends you word, 'Cause once he rashly made a solemn vow Never to see you more, he comes i' th' night; And prays you gently neither torch nor taper Shine in your chamber. He will kiss your hand, And reconcile himself; but for his vow He dares not see you.
DUCHESS. At his pleasure.-- Take hence the lights.--He 's come. [Exeunt Attendants with lights.]
[Enter FERDINAND]
FERDINAND. Where are you?
DUCHESS. Here, sir.
FERDINAND. This darkness suits you well.
DUCHESS. I would ask you pardon.
FERDINAND. You have it; For I account it the honorabl'st revenge, Where I may kill, to pardon.--Where are your cubs?
DUCHESS. Whom?
FERDINAND. Call them your children; For though our national law distinguish bastards >From true legitimate issue, compassionate nature Makes them all equal.
DUCHESS. Do you visit me for this? You violate a sacrament o' th' church Shall make you howl in hell for 't.
FERDINAND. It had been well, Could you have liv'd thus always; for, indeed, You were too much i' th' light:--but no more; I come to seal my peace with you. Here 's a hand Gives her a dead man's hand. To which you have vow'd much love; the ring upon 't You gave.
DUCHESS. I affectionately kiss it.
FERDINAND. Pray, do, and bury the print of it in your heart. I will leave this ring with you for a love-token; And the hand as sure as the ring; and do not doubt But you shall have the heart too. When you need a friend, Send it to him that ow'd it; you shall see Whether he can aid you.
DUCHESS. You are very cold: I fear you are not well after your travel.-- Ha! lights!----O, horrible!
FERDINAND. Let her have lights enough. Exit.
DUCHESS. What witchcraft doth he practise, that he hath left A dead man's hand here? [Here is discovered, behind a traverse,<99> the artificial figures of ANTONIO and his children, appearing as if they were dead.
BOSOLA. Look you, here 's the piece from which 'twas ta'en. He doth present you this sad spectacle, That, now you know directly they are dead, Hereafter you may wisely cease to grieve For that which cannot be recovered.
DUCHESS. There is not between heaven and earth one wish I stay for after this. It wastes me more Than were 't my picture, fashion'd out of wax, Stuck with a magical needle, and then buried In some foul dunghill; and yon 's an excellent property For a tyrant, which I would account mercy.
BOSOLA. What 's that?
DUCHESS. If they would bind me to that lifeless trunk, And let me freeze to death.
BOSOLA. Come, you must live.
DUCHESS. That 's the greatest torture souls feel in hell, In hell, that they must live, and cannot die. Portia,<100> I 'll new kindle thy coals again, And revive the rare and almost dead example Of a loving wife.
BOSOLA. O, fie! despair? Remember You are a Christian.
DUCHESS. The church enjoins fasting: I 'll starve myself to death.
BOSOLA. Leave this vain sorrow. Things being at the worst begin to mend: the bee When he hath shot his sting into your hand, May then play with your eye-lid.
DUCHESS. Good comfortable fellow, Persuade a wretch that 's broke upon the wheel To have all his bones new set; entreat him live To be executed again. Who must despatch me? I account this world a tedious theatre, For I do play a part in 't 'gainst my will.
BOSOLA. Come, be of comfort; I will save your life.
DUCHESS. Indeed, I have not leisure to tend so small a business.
BOSOLA. Now, by my life, I pity you.
DUCHESS. Thou art a fool, then, To waste thy pity on a thing so wretched As cannot pity itself.