DUCHESS. Antonio!
BOSOLA. Yes, madam, he is living; The dead bodies you saw were but feign'd statues. He 's reconcil'd to your brothers; the Pope hath wrought The atonement.
DUCHESS. Mercy! Dies.
BOSOLA. O, she 's gone again! there the cords of life broke. O sacred innocence, that sweetly sleeps On turtles' feathers, whilst a guilty conscience Is a black register wherein is writ All our good deeds and bad, a perspective That shows us hell! That we cannot be suffer'd To do good when we have a mind to it! This is manly sorrow; These tears, I am very certain, never grew In my mother's milk. My estate is sunk Below the degree of fear: where were These penitent fountains while she was living? O, they were frozen up! Here is a sight As direful to my soul as is the sword Unto a wretch hath slain his father. Come, I 'll bear thee hence, And execute thy last will; that 's deliver Thy body to the reverend dispose 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.