Lang. My duty, madam.—Falls and tires! I begin to suspect what falls and tires you mean. My lady and Sebastian the fall and the tire, and I the shadow. I perceive the purity of my conversation is used but for a property to cover the uncleanness of their purposes. The very contemplation o' the thing makes the spirit of the flesh begin to wriggle in my blood. And here my desire has met with an object already. This gentlewoman, methinks, should be swayed with the motion, living in a house where moving example is so common.—Mistress Cataplasma, my lady, it seems, has some business that requires her stay. The fairness o' the evening invites me into the air. Will it please you give this gentlewoman leave to leave her work and walk a turn or two with me for honest recreation?
Cata. With all my heart, sir. Go, Soquette: give ear to his instructions. You may get understanding by his company, I can tell you.
Lang. In the way of holiness, Mistress Cataplasma.
Cata. Good Monsieur Snuffe!—I will attend your return.
Lang. Your hand, gentlewoman.—[To Soquette.]
The flesh is humble till the spirit move it.
But when 'tis raised it will command above it.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II.—An Apartment in D'Amville's Mansion.
Enter D'Amville, Charlemont, and Borachio.
D'Am. Your sadness and the sickness of my son
Have made our company and conference
Less free and pleasing than I purposed it.
Charl. Sir, for the present I am much unfit
For conversation or society.
With pardon I will rudely take my leave.
D'Am. Good night, dear nephew.
[Exit Charlemont.
Seest thou that same man?
Bor. Your meaning, sir?
D'Am. That fellow's life, Borachio,
Like a superfluous letter in the law,
Endangers our assurance.[169]
Bor. Scrape him out.
D'Am. Wilt do't?
Bor. Give me your purpose—I will do't.
D'Am. Sad melancholy has drawn Charlemont
With meditation on his father's death
Into the solitary walk behind the church.
Bor. The churchyard? 'Tis the fittest place for death.
Perhaps he's praying. Then he's fit to die.
We'll send him charitably to his grave.
D'Am. No matter how thou tak'st him. First take this—
[Gives him a pistol.
Thou knowest the place. Observe his passages,
And with the most advantage make a stand,
That, favoured by the darkness of the night,
His breast may fall upon thee at so near
A distance that he sha' not shun the blow.
The deed once done, thou may'st retire with safety.
The place is unfrequented, and his death
Will be imputed to the attempt of thieves.
Bor. Be careless. Let your mind be free and clear.
This pistol shall discharge you of your fear. [Exit.
D'Am. But let me call my projects to account
For what effect and end have I engaged
Myself in all this blood? To leave a state
To the succession of my proper blood.
But how shall that succession be continued?
Not in my elder son, I fear. Disease
And weakness have disabled him for issue.
For the other,—his loose humour will endure
No bond of marriage. And I doubt his life,
His spirit is so boldly dangerous.
O pity that the profitable end
Of such a prosperous murder should be lost!
Nature forbid! I hope I have a body
That will not suffer me to lose my labour
For want of issue yet. But then't must be
A bastard.—Tush! they only father bastards
That father other men's begettings. Daughter!
Be it mine own. Let it come whence it will,
I am resolved. Daughter!
Enter Servant.
Ser. My lord.