the Dutchesse of Malfy.
Doe signifie your teares:
Dutch.
The Birds, that live i'th' field
On the wilde benefit of Nature, live
Happier than we; for they may choose their Mates,
And carroll their sweet pleasures to the Spring:
Bos.
You are happily ore-ta'ne.
Duch.
From my brother?
Bos.
Yes, from the Lord Ferdinand, your brother,
All love, and safetie.
Dutch.
Thou do'st blanch mischiefe
Wouldst make it white: See, see; like to calme weather
At Sea, before a tempest, false hearts speake faire
To those they intend most mischiefe.
A Letter. Send Antonio to me; I want his head in a busines: [A politicke equivocation)
He doth not want your councell, but your head;
That is, he cannot sleepe till you be dead.
And here's annother Pitfall, that's strew'd ore
With Roses; marke it, 'tis a cunning one.
I stand ingaged for your husband, for severall debts at Naples: let not
That trouble him, I had rather have his heart, then his mony.
And I beleeve so too.
Bos.
What doe you beleeve?
Dutch.
That he so much distrusts my husbands love,
He will by no meanes beleeve his heart is with him
Until he see it: The Divell is not cunning enough
To circumvent us in Ridles.
Bos.
Will you reject that noble, and free league
Of amitie, and love which I present you?
Dutch.
Their league is like that of some politick Kings
Onely to make themselves of strength, and powre
To be our after-ruine: tell them so;
Bos.
And what from you?
Ant.
Thus tell him: I will not come.
Bos.
And what of this.
Ant.
My brothers have dispers'd
Blood-hounds abroad; which till I heare are muzell'd
No truce, though hatch'd with nere such politick skill
Is safe, that hangs upon our enemies will.
I'll
