_Ant._ [_Aside._] My nose bleeds. One that were superstitious would count This ominous, when it merely comes by chance: Two letters, that are wrote here for my name, Are drowned in blood! Mere accident.--For you, sir, I'll take order I' the morn you shall be safe:--[_Aside._] 'tis that must colour Her lying-in:--sir, this door you pass not: I do not hold it fit that you come near The duchess' lodgings, till you have quit yourself.-- [_Aside_] The great are like the base, nay, they are the same, When they seek shameful ways to avoid shame. [_Exit._ _Bos._ Antonio hereabout did drop a paper:-- Some of your help, false friend:--O, here it is. What's here? a child's nativity calculated! [_Reads._ "The duchess was delivered of a son, 'tween the hours twelve and one in the night, _Anno Dom._ 1504,"--that's this year--"_decimo nono Decembris,_"--that's this night,--"taken according to the meridian of Malfi,"--that's our duchess: happy discovery!--"The lord of the first house being combust in the ascendant, signifies short life; and Mars being in a human sign, joined to the tail of the Dragon, in the eighth house, doth threaten a violent death. _Cætera non scrutantur._" Why, now 'tis most apparent: this precise fellow Is the duchess' bawd:--I have it to my wish! This is a parcel of intelligency Our courtiers were cased up for: it needs must follow That I must be committed on pretence Of poisoning her; which I'll endure, and laugh at. If one could find the father now! but that Time will discover. Old Castruccio I' the morning posts to Rome: by him I'll send A letter that shall make her brothers' galls O'erflow their livers. This was a thrifty way. Though lust do mask in ne'er so strange disguise, She's oft found witty, but is never wise. [_Exit._ SCENE IV.--_An Apartment in the Palace of the_ Cardinal _at Rome._ _Enter_ Cardinal _and_ JULIA. _Card._ Sit: thou art my best of wishes. Prithee, tell me What trick didst thou invent to come to Rome Without thy husband. _Julia._ Why, my lord, I told him I came to visit an old anchorite Here for devotion. _Card._ Thou art a witty false one,-- I mean, to him. _Julia._ You have prevailed with me Beyond my strongest thoughts: I would not now Find you inconstant. _Card._ Do not put thyself To such a voluntary torture, which proceeds Out of your own guilt. _Julia._ How, my lord! _Card._ You fear My constancy, because you have approved Those giddy and wild turnings in yourself. _Julia._ Did you e'er find them? _Card._ Sooth, generally for women, A man might strive to make glass malleable, Ere he should make them fixèd. _Julia._ So, my lord. _Card._ We had need go borrow that fantastic glass Invented by Galileo the Florentine To view another spacious world i' the moon, And look to find a constant woman there. _Julia._ This is very well, my lord.