1.3.0.1308[Enter] Gasparo the Duke, Doctor Benedict, [and] two Servants. [To the Servants, who proceed to act as instructed.]
1.3.1309Give charge that none do enter; lock the doors.
1.3.2310And, fellows, what your eyes and ears receive,
1.3.3311Upon your lives trust not the gadding air
1.3.4312To carry the least part of it.
[To the Doctor] The glass,
The hour-glass. Here, my lord.
1.3.5.1[He produces an hour-glass.] The hour-glass. Here, my lord. Ah, ʼtis near spent!
1.3.6315But, Doctor Benedict, does your art speak truth?
1.3.7316Art sure the soporiferous stream will ebb,
1.3.8317And leave the crystal banks of her white body
1.3.9318Pure as they were at first, just at the hour?
Just at the hour, my lord.
Just at the hour, my lord. [To Servants] Uncurtain her.
1.3.10.1[Servants draw curtains. Infelice discovered on a bed.] 1.3.11321Softly! – See, doctor, what a coldish heat
Spreads over all her body. Now it works:
1.3.13324The vital spirits that by a sleepy charm
1.3.14325Were bound up fast, and threw an icy crust
1.3.15326On her exterior parts, now ʼgin to break.
Trouble her not, my lord. [To Servants] Some stools.
Trouble her not, my lord. [To Servants] Some stools. You called
1.3.17329For music, did you not?
[Music plays.] Oho, it speaks,
1.3.18330It speaks!
[To Servants] Watch, sirs, her waking: note those sands. –
Doctor, sit down. A dukedom that should weigh
1.3.20332Mine own down twice, being put into one scale,
1.3.21333And that fond desperate boy Hippolito
1.3.22334Making the weight up, should not at my hands
1.3.23335Buy her iʼthʼ tother, were her state more light
1.3.24336Than hers who makes a dowry up with alms.
1.3.25337Doctor, Iʼll starve her on the Apennine
1.3.26338Ere he shall marry her. I must confess
1.3.28340Did not mine enemiesʼ blood boil in his veins,
1.3.29341Whom I would court to be my son-in-law;
1.3.30342But princes, whose high spleens for empery swell,
1.3.31343Are not with easy art made parallel.
She wakes, my lord.
Duke
She wakes, my lord. Look, Doctor Benedict!
1.3.33345[To Servants] I charge you on your lives, maintain for truth
1.3.35347For you shall bear her hence to Bergamo.
[Wakening] O God, what fearful dreams!
[Wakening] O God, what fearful dreams! Lady!
Infelice
[Wakening] O God, what fearful dreams! Lady! Ha!
[Wakening] O God, what fearful dreams! Lady! Ha! Girl!
1.3.37351Why, Infelice, how isʼt now, ha? Speak.
Iʼm well. – What makes this doctor here? – Iʼm well.
Thou wert not so even now. Sicknessʼ pale hand
1.3.40354Laid hold on thee even in the midst of feasting,
1.3.41355And when a cup crowned with thy loverʼs health
1.3.42356Had touched thy lips, a sensible cold dew
1.3.43357Stood on thy cheeks, as if that death had wept
To see such beauty alter. I remember
1.3.45360I sat at banquet, but felt no such change.
Thou hast forgot, then, how a messenger
1.3.47362Came wildly in, with this unsavoury news,
That he was dead? What messenger? Whoʼs dead?
Hippolito. Alack, wring not thy hands.
I saw no messenger, heard no such news.
Trust me, you did, sweet lady.
Trust me, you did, sweet lady. La you now!
Yes indeed, madam.
Yes indeed, madam. La you now.
Yes indeed, madam. La you now. ʼTis well, good knaves.
You haʼ slain him, and now youʼll murder me.
Good Infelice, vex not thus thyself.
1.3.55372Of this bad the report before did strike
1.3.56373So coldly to thy heart that the swift currents
Of life were all frozen up – It is untrue.
1.3.58376ʼTis most untrue, O most unnatural father!
And we had much to do by artʼs best cunning
To fetch life back again. Most certain, lady.
Why, la you now, youʼll not believe me! [To Servants] Friends,
1.3.62381Sweat we not all? Had we not much to do?
Yes indeed, my lord, much.
Death drew such fearful pictures in thy face
1.3.66385Iʼd kneel and woo the noble gentleman
1.3.67386To be thy husband. Now I sore repent
1.3.69388Nay, do not weep for him; we all must die. –
1.3.70389Doctor, this place where she so oft hath seen
1.3.71390His lively presence hurts her, does it not?
Doubtless, my lord, it does.
Doubtless, my lord, it does. It does, it does.
1.3.73393Therefore, sweet girl, thou shalt to Bergamo.
Even where you will. In any place thereʼs woe.
A coach is ready. Bergamo doth stand
1.3.76396In a most wholesome air: sweet walks; thereʼs deer.
1.3.77397Ay, thou shalt hunt and send us venison,
1.3.78398Which like some goddess in the Cyprian groves
1.3.79399Thine own fair hand shall strike. – Sirs, you shall teach her
1.3.80400To stand, and how to shoot; ay, she shall hunt. –
1.3.81401Cast off this sorrow. In, girl, and prepare
O most unhappy maid!
O most unhappy maid! [To Servants] Follow her close.
1.3.84405No words that she was buried, on your lives,
1.3.85406Or that her ghost walks now after sheʼs dead;
1.3.86407Iʼll hang you if you name a funeral.
Iʼll speak Greek, my lord, ere I speak that
409deadly word.
And Iʼll speak Welsh, which is harder than Greek.
Away, look to her.
Away, look to her. Doctor Benedict,
1.3.90412Did you observe how her complexion altered
1.3.91413Upon his name and death? O, would ʼtwere true!
It may, my lord.
It may, my lord. May? How? I wish his death.
And you may have your wish. Say but the word,
1.3.94417And ʼtis a strong spell to rip up his grave.
1.3.95418I have good knowledge with Hippolito;
1.3.96419He calls me friend. Iʼll creep into his bosom,
1.3.97420And sting him there to death. Poison can doʼt.
Perform it; Iʼll create thee half mine heir.
It shall be done, although the fact be foul.
Greatness hides sin. The guilt upon my soul!