the Dutchesse of Malfy.
Shake my Sword over you, will you yeilde?
Card.
Helpe me, I am your brother.
Ferd.
The divell?
My brother fight upon the adverse party? He wounds the Cardinall, and (in the
scuffle) gives Bosola his death wound.
There flies your ransome.
Card.
Oh Justice:
I suffer now, for what hath former bin:
"Sorrow is held the eldest child of sin.
Ferd.
Now you're brave fellowes:
Cæsars Fortune was harder than Pompeys:
Cæsar died in the armes of prosperity,
Pompey at the feete 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
Of a Barbor, that comes to pull it out) there's Philosophy 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.
Ferd.
Give me some wet hay, I am broken winded.
I do account this world but a dog-kennell:
I will vault credit, and affect high pleasures,
Beyond death.
Bos.
He seemes to come to himselfe, now he's so neere the bottom.
Ferd.
My sister, O my sister! there's the cause on't.
Whether we fall by ambition, blood, or lust,
Like diamonds, we are cut with our own dust.
Card.
Thou hast thy payment too.
Bos.
Yes, I hold my weary soule, in my teeth,
'Tis ready to part from me: I do glory
That thou, which stood'st 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.
Oh sad disastre.
Rod.
How comes this?
Bos.
Revenge, for the Duchesse of Malfy, murdered
By th' Aragonian brethren: for Antonio,
Slain
