DUCHESS. This good one that you speak of is my husband. BOSOLA. Do I not dream? Can this ambitious age Have so much goodness in 't as to prefer A man merely for worth, without these shadows Of wealth and painted honours? Possible? DUCHESS. I have had three children by him. BOSOLA. Fortunate lady! For you have made your private nuptial bed The humble and fair seminary of peace, No question but: many an unbenefic'd scholar Shall pray for you for this deed, and rejoice That some preferment in the world can yet Arise from merit. The virgins of your land That have no dowries shall hope your example Will raise them to rich husbands. Should you want Soldiers, 'twould make the very Turks and Moors Turn Christians, and serve you for this act. Last, the neglected poets of your time, In honour of this trophy of a man, Rais'd by that curious engine, your white hand, Shall thank you, in your grave, for 't; and make that More reverend than all the cabinets Of living princes. For Antonio, His fame shall likewise flow from many a pen, When heralds shall want coats to sell to men. DUCHESS. As I taste comfort in this friendly speech, So would I find concealment. BOSOLA. O, the secret of my prince, Which I will wear on th' inside of my heart! DUCHESS. You shall take charge of all my coin and jewels, And follow him; for he retires himself To Ancona. BOSOLA. So. DUCHESS. Whither, within few days, I mean to follow thee. BOSOLA. Let me think: I would wish your grace to feign a pilgrimage To our Lady of Loretto, scarce seven leagues ]From fair Ancona; so may you depart Your country with more honour, and your flight Will seem a princely progress, retaining Your usual train about you. DUCHESS. Sir, your direction Shall lead me by the hand. CARIOLA. In my opinion, She were better progress to the baths at Lucca, Or go visit the Spa In Germany; for, if you will believe me, I do not like this jesting with religion, This feigned pilgrimage. DUCHESS. Thou art a superstitious fool: Prepare us instantly for our departure. Past sorrows, let us moderately lament them, For those to come, seek wisely to prevent them. [Exeunt DUCHESS and CARIOLA.] BOSOLA. A politician is the devil's quilted anvil; He fashions all sins on him, and the blows Are never heard: he may work in a lady's chamber, As here for proof. What rests[90] but I reveal All to my lord? O, this base quality[91] Of intelligencer! Why, every quality i' the world Prefers but gain or commendation: Now, for this act I am certain to be rais'd, And men that paint weeds to the life are prais'd. [Exit.] Scene III[92] [Enter] CARDINAL, FERDINAND, MALATESTI, PESCARA, DELIO, and SILVIO CARDINAL. Must we turn soldier, then?