smiling, thus,
  Than in deep groans and terrible ghastly looks,
  As if the gifts we parted with procur'd[22]  That violent distraction?

  ANTONIO.                   O, much better.

  DUCHESS.  If I had a husband now, this care were quit:
  But I intend to make you overseer.
  What good deed shall we first remember?  Say.

  ANTONIO.  Begin with that first good deed began i' the world
  After man's creation, the sacrament of marriage;
  I 'd have you first provide for a good husband;
  Give him all.

  DUCHESS.       All!

  ANTONIO.             Yes, your excellent self.

  DUCHESS.  In a winding-sheet?

  ANTONIO.                       In a couple.

  DUCHESS.  Saint Winifred, that were a strange will!

  ANTONIO.  'Twere stranger[23] if there were no will in you
  To marry again.

  DUCHESS.         What do you think of marriage?

  ANTONIO.  I take 't, as those that deny purgatory,
  It locally contains or heaven or hell;
  There 's no third place in 't.

  DUCHESS.                        How do you affect it?

  ANTONIO.  My banishment, feeding my melancholy,
  Would often reason thus.

  DUCHESS.                  Pray, let 's hear it.

  ANTONIO.  Say a man never marry, nor have children,
  What takes that from him?  Only the bare name
  Of being a father, or the weak delight
  To see the little wanton ride a-cock-horse
  Upon a painted stick, or hear him chatter
  Like a taught starling.

  DUCHESS.                 Fie, fie, what 's all this?
  One of your eyes is blood-shot; use my ring to 't.
  They say 'tis very sovereign.  'Twas my wedding-ring,
  And I did vow never to part with it
  But to my second husband.

  ANTONIO.  You have parted with it now.

  DUCHESS.  Yes, to help your eye-sight.

  ANTONIO.  You have made me stark blind.

  DUCHESS.  How?

  ANTONIO.  There is a saucy and ambitious devil
  Is dancing in this circle.

  DUCHESS.                    Remove him.

  ANTONIO.  How?

  DUCHESS.  There needs small conjuration, when your finger
  May do it:  thus.  Is it fit?
       [She puts the ring upon his finger]: he kneels.

  ANTONIO.                       What said you?

  DUCHESS.                                       Sir,
  This goodly roof of yours is too low built;
  I cannot stand upright in 't nor discourse,
  Without I raise it higher.  Raise yourself;
  Or, if you please, my hand to help you:  so.
       [Raises him.]

  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 aim[24]  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] presenti[26] is absolute marriage.
       [She and ANTONIO kneel.]
  Bless, heaven, this sacred gordian[27] 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!