_Ferd._ Go to, mistress! 'Tis not your whore's milk that shall quench my wild fire, But your whore's blood. _Card._ How idly shows this rage, which carries you, As men conveyed by witches through the air, On violent whirlwinds! this intemperate noise Fitly resembles deaf men's shrill discourse, Who talk aloud, thinking all other men To have their imperfection. _Ferd._ Have not you My palsy? _Card._ Yes, but I can be angry Without this rupture:[123] there is not in nature A thing that makes man so deformed, so beastly, As doth intemperate anger. Chide yourself. You have divers men who never yet expressed Their strong desire of rest but by unrest, By vexing of themselves. Come, put yourself In tune. _Ferd._ So I will only study to seem The thing I am not. I could kill her now, In you, or in myself; for I do think It is some sin in us Heaven doth revenge By her. _Card._ Are you stark mad? _Ferd._ I would have their bodies Burnt in a coal-pit with the ventage stopped, That their cursed smoke might not ascend to Heaven; Or dip the sheets they lie in in pitch or sulphur, Wrap them in't, and then light them like a match; Or else to boil their bastard to a cullis, And give't his lecherous father to renew The sin of his back. _Card._ I'll leave you. _Ferd._ Nay, I have done. I am confident, had I been damned in hell, And should have heard of this, it would have put me Into a cold sweat. In, in; I'll go sleep. Till I know who leaps my sister, I'll not stir: That known, I'll find scorpions to string my whips, And fix her in a general eclipse. [_Exeunt._ ACT THE THIRD. SCENE I.--_An Apartment in the Palace of the_ DUCHESS. _Enter_ ANTONIO _and_ DELIO. _Ant._ Our noble friend, my most belovèd Delio! O, you have been a stranger long at court; Came you along with the Lord Ferdinand? _Delio._ I did, sir: and how fares your noble duchess? _Ant._ Right fortunately well: she's an excellent Feeder of pedigrees; since you last saw her, She hath had two children more, a son and daughter. _Delio._ Methinks 'twas yesterday: let me but wink, And not behold your face, which to mine eye Is somewhat leaner, verily I should dream It were within this half hour. _Ant._ You have not been in law, friend Delio, Nor in prison, nor a suitor at the court, Nor begged the reversion of some great man's place, Nor troubled with an old wife, which doth make Your time so insensibly hasten. _Delio._ Pray, sir, tell me, Hath not this news arrived yet to the ear Of the lord cardinal? _Ant._ I fear it hath: The Lord Ferdinand, that's newly come to court, Doth bear himself right dangerously. _Delio._ Pray, why? _Ant._ He is so quiet that he seems to sleep The tempest out, as dormice do in winter: Those houses that are haunted are most still Till the devil be up. _Delio._ What say the common people?