FIRST SERVANT. By this hand, 'twas credibly reported by one o' the black guard.[48] [Exeunt all except ANTONIO and DELIO.] DELIO. How fares it with the duchess? ANTONIO. She 's expos'd Unto the worst of torture, pain, and fear. DELIO. Speak to her all happy comfort. ANTONIO. How I do play the fool with mine own danger! You are this night, dear friend, to post to Rome: My life lies in your service. DELIO. Do not doubt me. ANTONIO. O, 'tis far from me: and yet fear presents me Somewhat that looks like danger. DELIO. Believe it, 'Tis but the shadow of your fear, no more: How superstitiously we mind our evils! The throwing down salt, or crossing of a hare, Bleeding at nose, the stumbling of a horse, Or singing of a cricket, are of power To daunt whole man in us. Sir, fare you well: I wish you all the joys of a bless'd father; And, for my faith, lay this unto your breast,-- Old friends, like old swords, still are trusted best. [Exit.] [Enter CARIOLA] CARIOLA. Sir, you are the happy father of a son: Your wife commends him to you. ANTONIO. Blessed comfort!-- For heaven' sake, tend her well: I 'll presently[49] Go set a figure for 's nativity.[50] Exeunt. Scene III[51] [Enter BOSOLA, with a dark lantern] BOSOLA. Sure I did hear a woman shriek: list, ha! And the sound came, if I receiv'd it right, ]From the duchess' lodgings. There 's some stratagem In the confining all our courtiers To their several wards: I must have part of it; My intelligence will freeze else. List, again! It may be 'twas the melancholy bird, Best friend of silence and of solitariness, The owl, that screamed so.--Ha! Antonio! [Enter ANTONIO with a candle, his sword drawn] ANTONIO. I heard some noise.--Who 's there? What art thou? Speak. BOSOLA. Antonio, put not your face nor body To such a forc'd expression of fear; I am Bosola, your friend. ANTONIO. Bosola!-- [Aside.] This mole does undermine me.--Heard you not A noise even now? BOSOLA. From whence? ANTONIO. From the duchess' lodging. BOSOLA. Not I: did you? ANTONIO. I did, or else I dream'd. BOSOLA. Let 's walk towards it. ANTONIO. No: it may be 'twas But the rising of the wind. BOSOLA. Very likely. Methinks 'tis very cold, and yet you sweat: You look wildly. ANTONIO. I have been setting a figure[52] For the duchess' jewels. BOSOLA. Ah, and how falls your question? Do you find it radical?[53] ANTONIO. What 's that to you? 'Tis rather to be question'd what design, When all men were commanded to their lodgings, Makes you a night-walker.