LITMIR.BIZ

        DUCHESS.  Your arm, Antonio:  do I not grow fat?

        I am exceeding short-winded. – Bosola,

        I would have you, sir, provide for me a litter;

        Such a one as the Duchess of Florence rode in.

        BOSOLA.  The duchess us'd one when she was great with child.

        DUCHESS.  I think she did. – Come hither, mend my ruff:

        Here, when? thou art such a tedious lady; and

        Thy breath smells of lemon-pills:  would thou hadst done!

        Shall I swoon under thy fingers?  I am

        So troubled with the mother!41

        BOSOLA.  [Aside.]             I fear too much.

        DUCHESS.  I have heard you say that the French courtiers

        Wear their hats on 'fore that king.

        ANTONIO.  I have seen it.

        DUCHESS.                   In the presence?

        ANTONIO.                                     Yes.

        DUCHESS.  Why should not we bring up that fashion?

        'Tis ceremony more than duty that consists

        In the removing of a piece of felt.

        Be you the example to the rest o' th' court;

        Put on your hat first.

        ANTONIO.                You must pardon me:

        I have seen, in colder countries than in France,

        Nobles stand bare to th' prince; and the distinction

        Methought show'd reverently.

        BOSOLA.  I have a present for your grace.

        DUCHESS.                                   For me, sir?

        BOSOLA.  Apricocks, madam.

        DUCHESS.                    O, sir, where are they?

        I have heard of none to-year42

        BOSOLA.  [Aside.]              Good; her colour rises.

        DUCHESS.  Indeed, I thank you:  they are wondrous fair ones.

        What an unskilful fellow is our gardener!

        We shall have none this month.

        BOSOLA.  Will not your grace pare them?

        DUCHESS.  No:  they taste of musk, methinks; indeed they do.

        BOSOLA.  I know not:  yet I wish your grace had par'd 'em.

        DUCHESS.  Why?

        BOSOLA.         I forgot to tell you, the knave gardener,

        Only to raise his profit by them the sooner,

        Did ripen them in horse-dung.

        DUCHESS.                       O, you jest. —

        You shall judge:  pray, taste one.

        ANTONIO.                            Indeed, madam,

        I do not love the fruit.

        DUCHESS.                  Sir, you are loth

        To rob us of our dainties.  'Tis a delicate fruit;

        They say they are restorative.

        BOSOLA.                        'Tis a pretty art,

        This grafting.

        DUCHESS.  'Tis so; a bettering of nature.

        BOSOLA.  To make a pippin grow upon a crab,

        A damson on a black-thorn. – [Aside.] How greedily she eats them!

        A whirlwind strike off these bawd farthingales!

        For, but for that and the loose-bodied gown,

        I should have discover'd apparently43

      The young springal44 cutting a caper in her belly.

        DUCHESS.  I thank you, Bosola:  they were right good ones,

        If they do not make me sick.

        ANTONIO.                      How now, madam!

        DUCHESS.  This green fruit and my stomach are not friends:

        How they swell me!

        BOSOLA.  [Aside.]    Nay, you are too much swell'd already.

        DUCHESS.  O, I am in an extreme cold sweat!

        BOSOLA.                                      I am very sorry.

        DUCHESS.  Lights to my chamber! – O good Antonio,

        I fear I am undone!

        DELIO.               Lights there, lights!

        ANTONIO.  O my most trusty Delio, we are lost!

        I fear she 's fall'n in labour; and there 's left

        No time for her remove.

        DELIO.                   Have you prepar'd

        Those ladies to attend her; and procur'd

        That politic safe conveyance for the midwife

        Your duchess plotted?

        ANTONIO.               I have.

        DELIO.  Make use, then, of this forc'd occasion.

        Give out that Bosola hath poison'd her

        With these apricocks; that will give some colour

        For her keeping close.

        ANTONIO.                Fie, fie, the physicians

        Will then flock to her.

        DELIO.  For

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