The Duchess of Malfi, John Webster [ebook reader that looks like a book .TXT] 📗

entrap offenders in their answers;

Dooms men to death by information;

Rewards by hearsay.

 

DELIO. Then the law to him

Is like a foul, black cobweb to a spider,—

He makes it his dwelling and a prison

To entangle those shall feed him.

 

ANTONIO. Most true:

He never pays debts unless they be shrewd turns,

And those he will confess that he doth owe.

Last, for this brother there, the cardinal,

They that do flatter him most say oracles

Hang at his lips; and verily I believe them,

For the devil speaks in them.

But for their sister, the right noble duchess,

You never fix’d your eye on three fair medals

Cast in one figure, of so different temper.

For her discourse, it is so full of rapture,

You only will begin then to be sorry

When she doth end her speech, and wish, in wonder,

She held it less vain-glory to talk much,

Than your penance to hear her. Whilst she speaks,

She throws upon a man so sweet a look

That it were able to raise one to a galliard.<10>

That lay in a dead palsy, and to dote

On that sweet countenance; but in that look

There speaketh so divine a continence

As cuts off all lascivious and vain hope.

Her days are practis’d in such noble virtue,

That sure her nights, nay, more, her very sleeps,

Are more in heaven than other ladies’ shrifts.

Let all sweet ladies break their flatt’ring glasses,

And dress themselves in her.

 

DELIO. Fie, Antonio,

You play the wire-drawer with her commendations.

 

ANTONIO. I ‘ll case the picture up: only thus much;

All her particular worth grows to this sum,—

She stains<11> the time past, lights the time to come.

 

CARIOLA. You must attend my lady in the gallery,

Some half and hour hence.

 

ANTONIO. I shall.

[Exeunt ANTONIO and DELIO.]

 

FERDINAND. Sister, I have a suit to you.

 

DUCHESS. To me, sir?

 

FERDINAND. A gentleman here, Daniel de Bosola,

One that was in the galleys–-

 

DUCHESS. Yes, I know him.

 

FERDINAND. A worthy fellow he is: pray, let me entreat for

The provisorship of your horse.

 

DUCHESS. Your knowledge of him

Commends him and prefers him.

 

FERDINAND. Call him hither.

[Exit Attendant.]

We [are] now upon<12> parting. Good Lord Silvio,

Do us commend to all our noble friends

At the leaguer.

 

SILVIO. Sir, I shall.

 

[DUCHESS.] You are for Milan?

 

SILVIO. I am.

 

DUCHESS. Bring the caroches.<13>—We ‘ll bring you down

To the haven.

[Exeunt DUCHESS, SILVIO, CASTRUCCIO, RODERIGO, GRISOLAN,

CARIOLA, JULIA, and Attendants.]

 

CARDINAL. Be sure you entertain that Bosola

For your intelligence.<14> I would not be seen in ‘t;

And therefore many times I have slighted him

When he did court our furtherance, as this morning.

 

FERDINAND. Antonio, the great-master of her household,

Had been far fitter.

 

CARDINAL. You are deceiv’d in him.

His nature is too honest for such business.—

He comes: I ‘ll leave you.

[Exit.]

 

[Re-enter BOSOLA]

 

BOSOLA. I was lur’d to you.

 

FERDINAND. My brother, here, the cardinal, could never

Abide you.

 

BOSOLA. Never since he was in my debt.

 

FERDINAND. May be some oblique character in your face

Made him suspect you.

 

BOSOLA. Doth he study physiognomy?

There ‘s no more credit to be given to the face

Than to a sick man’s urine, which some call

The physician’s whore, because she cozens<15> him.

He did suspect me wrongfully.

 

FERDINAND. For that

You must give great men leave to take their times.

Distrust doth cause us seldom be deceiv’d.

You see the oft shaking of the cedar-tree

Fastens it more at root.

 

BOSOLA. Yet take heed;

For to suspect a friend unworthily

Instructs him the next way to suspect you,

And prompts him to deceive you.

 

FERDINAND. There ‘s gold.

 

BOSOLA. So:

What follows? [Aside.] Never rain’d such showers as these

Without thunderbolts i’ the tail of them.—Whose throat must I cut?

 

FERDINAND. Your inclination to shed blood rides post

Before my occasion to use you. I give you that

To live i’ the court here, and observe the duchess;

To note all the particulars of her haviour,

What suitors do solicit her for marriage,

And whom she best affects. She ‘s a young widow:

I would not have her marry again.

 

BOSOLA. No, sir?

 

FERDINAND. Do not you ask the reason; but be satisfied.

I say I would not.

 

BOSOLA. It seems you would create me

One of your familiars.

 

FERDINAND. Familiar! What ‘s that?

 

BOSOLA. Why, a very quaint invisible devil in flesh,—

An intelligencer.<16>

 

FERDINAND. Such a kind of thriving thing

I would wish thee; and ere long thou mayst arrive

At a higher place by ‘t.

 

BOSOLA. Take your devils,

Which hell calls angels! These curs’d gifts would make

You a corrupter, me an impudent traitor;

And should I take these, they’d take me [to] hell.

 

FERDINAND. Sir, I ‘ll take nothing from you that I have given.

There is a place that I procur’d for you

This morning, the provisorship o’ the horse;

Have you heard on ‘t?

 

BOSOLA. No.

 

FERDINAND. ‘Tis yours: is ‘t not worth thanks?

 

BOSOLA. I would have you curse yourself now, that your bounty

(Which makes men truly noble) e’er should make me

A villain. O, that to avoid ingratitude

For the good deed you have done me, I must do

All the ill man can invent! Thus the devil

Candies all sins o’er; and what heaven terms vile,

That names he complimental.

 

FERDINAND. Be yourself;

Keep your old garb of melancholy; ‘twill express

You envy those that stand above your reach,

Yet strive not to come near ‘em. This will gain

Access to private lodgings, where yourself

May, like a politic dormouse–-

 

BOSOLA. As I have seen some

Feed in a lord’s dish, half asleep, not seeming

To listen to any talk; and yet these rogues

Have cut his throat in a dream. What ‘s my place?

The provisorship o’ the horse? Say, then, my corruption

Grew out of horse-dung: I am your creature.

 

FERDINAND. Away!

[Exit.]

 

BOSOLA. Let good men, for good deeds, covet good fame,

Since place and riches oft are bribes of shame.

Sometimes the devil doth preach.

[Exit.]

 

[Scene III]<17>

 

[Enter FERDINAND, DUCHESS, CARDINAL, and CARIOLA]

 

CARDINAL. We are to part from you; and your own discretion

Must now be your director.

 

FERDINAND. You are a widow:

You know already what man is; and therefore

Let not youth, high promotion, eloquence–-

 

CARDINAL. No,

Nor anything without the addition, honour,

Sway your high blood.

 

FERDINAND. Marry! they are most luxurious<18>

Will wed twice.

 

CARDINAL. O, fie!

 

FERDINAND. Their livers are more spotted

Than Laban’s sheep.<19>

 

DUCHESS. Diamonds are of most value,

They say, that have pass’d through most jewellers’ hands.

 

FERDINAND. Whores by that rule are precious.

 

DUCHESS. Will you hear me?

I ‘ll never marry.

 

CARDINAL. So most widows say;

But commonly that motion lasts no longer

Than the turning of an hour-glass: the funeral sermon

And it end both together.

 

FERDINAND. Now hear me:

You live in a rank pasture, here, i’ the court;

There is a kind of honey-dew that ‘s deadly;

‘T will poison your fame; look to ‘t. Be not cunning;

For they whose faces do belie their hearts

Are witches ere they arrive at twenty years,

Ay, and give the devil suck.

 

DUCHESS. This is terrible good counsel.

 

FERDINAND. Hypocrisy is woven of a fine small thread,

Subtler than Vulcan’s engine:<20> yet, believe ‘t,

Your darkest actions, nay, your privat’st thoughts,

Will come to light.

 

CARDINAL. You may flatter yourself,

And take your own choice; privately be married

Under the eaves of night–-

 

FERDINAND. Think ‘t the best voyage

That e’er you made; like the irregular crab,

Which, though ‘t goes backward, thinks that it goes right

Because it goes its own way: but observe,

Such weddings may more properly be said

To be executed than celebrated.

 

CARDINAL. The marriage night

Is the entrance into some prison.

 

FERDINAND. And those joys,

Those lustful pleasures, are like heavy sleeps

Which do fore-run man’s mischief.

 

CARDINAL. Fare you well.

Wisdom begins at the end: remember it.

[Exit.]

 

DUCHESS. I think this speech between you both was studied,

It came so roundly off.

 

FERDINAND. You are my sister;

This was my father’s poniard, do you see?

I ‘d be loth to see ‘t look rusty, ‘cause ‘twas his.

I would have you give o’er these chargeable revels:

A visor and a mask are whispering-rooms

That were never built for goodness,—fare ye well—

And women like variety of courtship.

What cannot a neat knave with a smooth tale

Make a woman believe? Farewell, lusty widow.

[Exit.]

 

DUCHESS. Shall this move me? If all my royal kindred

Lay in my way unto this marriage,

I ‘d make them my low footsteps. And even now,

Even in this hate, as men in some great battles,

By apprehending danger, have achiev’d

Almost impossible actions (I have heard soldiers say so),

So I through frights and threatenings will assay

This dangerous venture. Let old wives report

I wink’d and chose a husband.—Cariola,

To thy known secrecy I have given up

More than my life,—my fame.

 

CARIOLA. Both shall be safe;

For I ‘ll conceal this secret from the world

As warily as those that trade in poison

Keep poison from their children.

 

DUCHESS. Thy protestation

Is ingenious and hearty; I believe it.

Is Antonio come?

 

CARIOLA. He attends you.

 

DUCHESS. Good dear soul,

Leave me; but place thyself behind the arras,

Where thou mayst overhear us. Wish me good speed;

For I am going into a wilderness,

Where I shall find nor path nor friendly clue

To be my guide.

[Cariola goes behind the arras.]

[Enter ANTONIO]

I sent for you: sit down;

Take pen and ink, and write: are you ready?

 

ANTONIO. Yes.

 

DUCHESS. What did I say?

 

ANTONIO. That I should write somewhat.

 

DUCHESS. O, I remember.

After these triumphs and this large expense

It ‘s fit, like thrifty husbands,<21> we inquire

What ‘s laid up for to-morrow.

 

ANTONIO. So please your beauteous excellence.

 

DUCHESS. Beauteous!

Indeed, I thank you. I look young for your sake;

You have ta’en my cares upon you.

 

ANTONIO. I ‘ll fetch your grace

The particulars of your revenue and expense.

 

DUCHESS. O, you are

An upright treasurer: but you mistook;

For when I said I meant to make inquiry

What ‘s laid up for to-morrow, I did mean

What ‘s laid up yonder for me.

 

ANTONIO. Where?

 

DUCHESS. In heaven.

I am making my will (as ‘tis fit princes should,

In perfect memory), and, I pray, sir, tell me,

Were not one better make it smiling, thus,

Than in deep groans and terrible ghastly looks,

As if the gifts we parted with procur’d<22>

That violent distraction?

 

ANTONIO. O, much better.

 

DUCHESS. If I had a husband now, this care were quit:

But I intend to make you overseer.

What good deed shall we first remember? Say.

 

ANTONIO. Begin with that first good deed began i’ the world

After man’s creation, the sacrament of marriage;

I ‘d have you first provide for a good husband;

Give him all.

 

DUCHESS. All!

 

ANTONIO. Yes, your excellent self.

 

DUCHESS. In a winding-sheet?

 

ANTONIO. In a couple.

 

DUCHESS. Saint Winifred, that were a strange will!

 

ANTONIO. ‘Twere stranger<23> if there were no will in you

To marry again.

 

DUCHESS. What do you think of marriage?

 

ANTONIO. I take ‘t, as those that deny purgatory,