The Duchess of Malfi. Webster John

        Instructs him the next way to suspect you,

        And prompts him to deceive you.

        FERDINAND.                       There 's gold.

        BOSOLA.                                          So:

        What follows?  [Aside.] Never rain'd such showers as these

        Without thunderbolts i' the tail of them. – Whose throat must I cut?

        FERDINAND.  Your inclination to shed blood rides post

        Before my occasion to use you.  I give you that

        To live i' the court here, and observe the duchess;

        To note all the particulars of her haviour,

        What suitors do solicit her for marriage,

        And whom she best affects.  She 's a young widow:

        I would not have her marry again.

        BOSOLA.                            No, sir?

        FERDINAND.  Do not you ask the reason; but be satisfied.

        I say I would not.

        BOSOLA.             It seems you would create me

        One of your familiars.

        FERDINAND.              Familiar!  What 's that?

        BOSOLA.  Why, a very quaint invisible devil in flesh, —

        An intelligencer.16

        FERDINAND.          Such a kind of thriving thing

        I would wish thee; and ere long thou mayst arrive

        At a higher place by 't.

        BOSOLA.                   Take your devils,

        Which hell calls angels!  These curs'd gifts would make

        You a corrupter, me an impudent traitor;

        And should I take these, they'd take me [to] hell.

        FERDINAND.  Sir, I 'll take nothing from you that I have given.

        There is a place that I procur'd for you

        This morning, the provisorship o' the horse;

        Have you heard on 't?

        BOSOLA.                No.

        FERDINAND.                  'Tis yours:  is 't not worth thanks?

        BOSOLA.  I would have you curse yourself now, that your bounty

        (Which makes men truly noble) e'er should make me

        A villain.  O, that to avoid ingratitude

        For the good deed you have done me, I must do

        All the ill man can invent!  Thus the devil

        Candies all sins o'er; and what heaven terms vile,

        That names he complimental.

        FERDINAND.                   Be yourself;

        Keep your old garb of melancholy; 'twill express

        You envy those that stand above your reach,

        Yet strive not to come near 'em.  This will gain

        Access to private lodgings, where yourself

        May, like a politic dormouse —

        BOSOLA.                         As I have seen some

        Feed in a lord's dish, half asleep, not seeming

        To listen to any talk; and yet these rogues

        Have cut his throat in a dream.  What 's my place?

        The provisorship o' the horse?  Say, then, my corruption

        Grew out of horse-dung:  I am your creature.

        FERDINAND.                                    Away!

      [Scene III]17