ANTONIO.  Ambition, madam, is a great man's madness,

        That is not kept in chains and close-pent rooms,

        But in fair lightsome lodgings, and is girt

        With the wild noise of prattling visitants,

        Which makes it lunatic beyond all cure.

        Conceive not I am so stupid but I aim24  Whereto your favours tend:  but he 's a fool

        That, being a-cold, would thrust his hands i' the fire

        To warm them.

        DUCHESS.       So, now the ground 's broke,

        You may discover what a wealthy mine

        I make your lord of.

        ANTONIO.              O my unworthiness!

        DUCHESS.  You were ill to sell yourself:

        This dark'ning of your worth is not like that

        Which tradesmen use i' the city; their false lights

        Are to rid bad wares off:  and I must tell you,

        If you will know where breathes a complete man

        (I speak it without flattery), turn your eyes,

        And progress through yourself.

        ANTONIO.  Were there nor heaven nor hell,

        I should be honest:  I have long serv'd virtue,

        And ne'er ta'en wages of her.

        DUCHESS.                       Now she pays it.

        The misery of us that are born great!

        We are forc'd to woo, because none dare woo us;

        And as a tyrant doubles with his words,

        And fearfully equivocates, so we

        Are forc'd to express our violent passions

        In riddles and in dreams, and leave the path

        Of simple virtue, which was never made

        To seem the thing it is not.  Go, go brag

        You have left me heartless; mine is in your bosom:

        I hope 'twill multiply love there.  You do tremble:

        Make not your heart so dead a piece of flesh,

        To fear more than to love me.  Sir, be confident:

        What is 't distracts you?  This is flesh and blood, sir;

        'Tis not the figure cut in alabaster

        Kneels at my husband's tomb.  Awake, awake, man!

        I do here put off all vain ceremony,

        And only do appear to you a young widow

        That claims you for her husband, and, like a widow,

        I use but half a blush in 't.

        ANTONIO.                       Truth speak for me;

        I will remain the constant sanctuary

        Of your good name.

        DUCHESS.            I thank you, gentle love:

        And 'cause you shall not come to me in debt,

        Being now my steward, here upon your lips

        I sign your Quietus est.25  This you should have begg'd now.

        I have seen children oft eat sweetmeats thus,

        As fearful to devour them too soon.

        ANTONIO.  But for your brothers?

        DUCHESS.                          Do not think of them:

        All discord without this circumference

        Is only to be pitied, and not fear'd:

        Yet, should they know it, time will easily

        Scatter the tempest.

        ANTONIO.              These words should be mine,

        And all the parts you have spoke, if some part of it

        Would not have savour'd flattery.

        DUCHESS.  Kneel.

      [Cariola comes from behind the arras.]

        ANTONIO.          Ha!

        DUCHESS.  Be not amaz'd; this woman 's of my counsel:

        I have heard lawyers say, a contract in a chamber

        Per verba [de] presenti26 is absolute marriage.

      [She and ANTONIO kneel.]

        Bless, heaven, this sacred gordian27 which let violence

        Never untwine!

        ANTONIO.  And may our sweet affections, like the spheres,

        Be still in motion!

        DUCHESS.             Quickening, and make

        The like soft music!

        ANTONIO.  That we may imitate the loving palms,

        Best emblem of a peaceful marriage,

        That never bore fruit, divided!

        DUCHESS.  What can the church force more?

        ANTONIO.  That fortune may not know an accident,

        Either of joy or sorrow, to divide

        Our fixed wishes!

        DUCHESS.           How can the church build faster?28  We now are man and wife, and 'tis the church

        That must but echo this. – Maid, stand apart:

        I now am blind.

        ANTONIO.         What 's your conceit in this?

        DUCHESS.  I would have you lead your fortune by the hand

        Unto your marriage-bed:

        (You speak in me this, for we now are one:)

        We 'll only lie and talk together, and plot

        To appease my humorous29 kindred; and if you please,

        Like the old tale in ALEXANDER AND LODOWICK,

        Lay a naked sword between us, keep us chaste.

        O, let me shrowd my blushes in your