Author: John Webster
Date: 2021-01-09T02:52:27+00:00
Keywords: Tragedies; English drama -- 17th century; Brothers and sisters -- Drama; Retribution -- Drama
Description: A widow marries beneath her station and against her brothers’ orders and, enraged, they take their revenge.
Publisher: Standard Ebooks

The Duchess of Malfi

By John Webster.

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To the Rt. Hon. George Harding, Baron Berkeley,1 of Berkeley Castle, and Knight of the Order of the Bath to the illustrious Prince Charles.

My Noble Lord,

That I may present my excuse why, being a stranger to your lordship, I offer this poem to your patronage, I plead this warrant:—men who never saw the sea yet desire to behold that regiment of waters, choose some eminent river to guide them thither, and make that, as it were, their conduct or postilion: by the like ingenious means has your fame arrived at my knowledge, receiving it from some of worth, who both in contemplation and practice owe to your honour their clearest service. I do not altogether look up at your title; the ancientest nobility being but a relic of time past, and the truest honour indeed being for a map to confer honour on himself, which your learning strives to propagate, and shall make you arrive at the dignity of a great example. I am confident this work is not unworthy your honour’s perusal; for by such poems as this poets have kissed the hands of great princes, and drawn their gentle eyes to look down upon their sheets of paper when the poets themselves were bound up in their winding-sheets. The like courtesy from your lordship shall make you live in your grave, and laurel spring out of it, when the ignorant scorners of the Muses, that like worms in libraries seem to live only to destroy learning, shall wither neglected and forgotten. This work and myself I humbly present to your approved censure, it being the utmost of my wishes to have your honourable self my weighty and perspicuous comment; which grace so done me shall ever be acknowledged

By your lordship’s in all duty and observance,

John Webster.

Dramatis Personae

- Ferdinand Duke of Calabria

- Cardinal his brother

- Antonio Bologna, Steward of the Household to the Duchess

- Delio his friend

- Daniel de Bosola, Gentleman of the Horse to the Duchess

- Castruccio, an old Lord

- Marquis of Pescara

- Count Malatesti

- Roderigo,
Silvio,
Grisolan, Lords

- Doctor

- The Several Madmen

- Duchess of Malfi

- Cariola her woman

- Julia, Castruccio’s wife, and the Cardinal’s mistress

- Old Lady

- Ladies, Three Young Children, Two Pilgrims, Executioners, Court Officers, and Attendants

Scene: Malfi, Rome, Loretto, and Milan.

The Duchess of Malfi

Act
I

Scene
I

Malfi. The presence chamber in the palace of the Duchess.

| Enter Antonio and Delio.

Delio

You are welcome to your country, dear Antonio;
You have been long in France, and you return
A very formal Frenchman in your habit:
How do you like the French court?

Antonio

I admire it:
In seeking to reduce both state and people
To a fix’d order, their judicious king
Begins at home; quits first his royal palace
Of flattering sycophants, of dissolute
And infamous persons—which he sweetly terms
His master’s masterpiece, the work of heaven;
Considering duly that a prince’s court
Is like a common fountain, whence should flow
Pure silver drops in general, but if’t chance
Some curs’d example poison’t near the head,
Death and diseases through the whole land spread.
And what is’t makes this blessed government
But a most provident council, who dare freely
Inform him the corruption of the times?
Though some o’ the court hold it presumption
To instruct princes what they ought to do,
It is a noble duty to inform them
What they ought to foresee.2—Here comes Bosola,
The only court-gall; yet I observe his railing
Is not for simple love of piety:
Indeed, he rails at those things which he wants;
Would be as lecherous, covetous, or proud,
Bloody, or envious, as any man,
If he had means to be so.—Here’s the cardinal.

| Enter Cardinal and Bosala.
Bosola | I do haunt you still.
Cardinal | So.

Bosola

I have done you better service than to be slighted thus. Miserable age, where only the reward of doing well is the doing of it!

Cardinal | You enforce your merit too much.

Bosola

I fell into the galleys in your service: where, for two years together, I wore two towels instead of a shirt, with a knot on the shoulder, after the fashion of a Roman mantle. Slighted thus! I will thrive some way. Blackbirds fatten best in hard weather; why not I in these dog-days?

Cardinal | Would you could become honest!

Bosola

With all your divinity do but direct me the way to it. I have known many travel far for it, and yet return as arrant knaves as they went forth, because they carried themselves always along with them. Exit Cardinal. Are you gone? Some fellows, they say, are possessed with the devil, but this great fellow were able to possess the greatest devil, and make him worse.

Antonio | He hath denied thee some suit?

Bosola

He and his brother are like plum-trees that grow crooked over standing-pools; they are rich and o’erladen with fruit, but none but crows, pies, and caterpillars feed on them. Could I be one of their flattering panders, I would hang on their ears like a horseleech, till I were full, and then drop off. I pray, leave me. Who would rely upon these miserable dependencies, in expectation to be advanc’d tomorrow? What creature ever fed worse than hoping Tantalus? Nor ever died any man more fearfully than he that hoped for a pardon. There are rewards for hawks and dogs when they have done us service; but for a soldier that hazards his limbs in a battle, nothing but a kind of geometry is his last supportation.

Delio | Geometry?

Bosola

Ay, to hang in a fair pair of slings, take his latter swing in the world upon an honourable pair of crutches, from hospital to hospital. Fare ye well, sir: and yet do not you scorn us; for places in the court are but like beds in the hospital, where this man’s head lies at that man’s foot, and so lower and lower.

| Exit.

Delio

I knew this fellow seven years in the galleys
For a notorious murder; and ’twas thought
The cardinal suborn’d it: he was releas’d
By the French general, Gaston de Foix,
When he recover’d Naples.

Antonio

’Tis great pity
He should be thus neglected: I have heard
He’s very valiant. This foul melancholy
Will poison all his goodness; for, I’ll tell you,
If too immoderate sleep be truly said
To be an inward rust unto the soul,
If then doth follow want of action
Breeds all black malcontents; and their close rearing,
Like moths in cloth, do hurt for want of wearing.

Scene
II

The same.

| Antonio, Delio. Enter Silvio, Castruccio, Julia, Roderigo and Grisolan.

Delio

The presence ’gins to fill: you promis’d me
To make me the partaker of the natures
Of some of your great courtiers.

Antonio

The lord cardinal’s
And other strangers’ that are now in court?
I shall.—Here comes the great Calabrian duke.

| Enter Ferdinand and Attendants.
Ferdinand | Who took the ring oftenest?3
Silvio | Antonio Bologna, my lord.

Ferdinand

Our sister duchess’ great-master of her household? Give him the jewel.—When shall we leave this sportive action, and fall to action indeed?

Castruccio | Methinks, my lord, you should not desire to go to war in person.
Ferdinand | Now for some gravity.—Why, my lord?
Castruccio | It is fitting a soldier arise to be a prince, but not necessary a prince descend to be a captain.
Ferdinand | No?
Castruccio | No, my lord; he were far better do it by a deputy.

Ferdinand

Why should he not as well sleep or eat by a deputy? This might take idle, offensive, and base office from him, whereas the other deprives him of honour.

Castruccio | Believe my experience, that realm is never long in quiet where the ruler is a soldier.
Ferdinand | Thou toldest me thy wife could not endure fighting.
Castruccio | True, my lord.
Ferdinand | And of a jest she broke of4 a captain she met full of wounds: I have forgot it.
Castruccio | She told him, my lord, he was a pitiful fellow, to lie, like the children of Ismael, all in tents.5

Ferdinand

Why, there’s a wit were able to undo all the chirurgeons6 o’ the city; for although gallants should quarrel, and had drawn their weapons, and were ready to go to it, yet her persuasions would make them put up.

Castruccio | That she would, my lord.—How do you like my Spanish gennet?7
Roderigo | He is all fire.
Ferdinand | I am of Pliny’s opinion, I think he was begot by the wind; he runs as if he were ballass’d8 with quicksilver.
Silvio | True, my lord, he reels from the tilt often.
Roderigo | Ha, ha, ha!
Grisolan |

Ferdinand

Why do you laugh? Methinks you that are courtiers should be my touchwood, take fire when I give fire; that is, laugh when I laugh, were the subject never so witty.

Castruccio

True, my lord: I myself have heard a very good jest, and have scorn’d to seem to have so silly a wit as to understand it.

Ferdinand | But I can laugh at your fool, my lord.
Castruccio | He cannot speak, you know, but he makes faces; my lady cannot abide him.
Ferdinand | No?

Castruccio

Nor endure to be in merry company; for she says too much laughing, and too much company, fills her too full of the wrinkle.

Ferdinand

I would, then, have a mathematical instrument made for her face, that she might not laugh out of compass.—I shall shortly visit you at Milan, Lord Silvio.

Silvio | Your grace shall arrive most welcome.
Ferdinand | You are a good horseman, Antonio; you have excellent riders in France: what do you think of good horsemanship?

Antonio

Nobly, my lord: as out of the Grecian horse issued many famous princes, so out of brave horsemanship arise the first sparks of growing resolution, that raise the mind to noble action.

Ferdinand | You have bespoke it worthily.
Silvio | Your brother, the lord cardinal, and sister duchess.
| Enter Cardinal, with Duchess and Cariola.

Cardinal

Are the galleys come about?

Grisolan

They are, my lord.

Ferdinand | Here’s the Lord Silvio is come to take his leave.

Delio

Now, sir, your promise: what’s that cardinal?
I mean his temper? They say he’s a brave fellow,
Will play his five thousand crowns at tennis, dance,
Court ladies, and one that hath fought single combats.

Antonio

Some such flashes superficially hang on him for form; but observe his inward character: he is a melancholy churchman. The spring in his face is nothing but the engend’ring of toads; where he is jealous of any man, he lays worse plots for them than ever was impos’d on Hercules, for he strews in his way flatterers, panders, intelligencers, atheists, and a thousand such political monsters. He should have been Pope; but instead of coming to it by the primitive decency of the church, he did bestow bribes so largely and so impudently as if he would have carried it away without heaven’s knowledge. Some good he hath done—

Delio

You have given too much of him. What’s his brother?

Antonio

The duke there? A most perverse and turbulent nature.
What appears in him mirth is merely outside;
If he laught heartily, it is to laugh
All honesty out of fashion.

Delio

Twins?

Antonio

In quality.
He speaks with others’ tongues, and hears men’s suits
With others’ ears; will seem to sleep o’ the bench
Only to 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 vainglory 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.9
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 stains10 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 upon11 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.12—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.13 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.
| Reenter Bosala.

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 cozens14 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.15

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

Malfi. Gallery in the Duchess’ palace.

| 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 luxurious16
Will wed twice.

Cardinal

O, fie!

Ferdinand

Their livers are more spotted
Than Laban’s sheep.17

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 hourglass: 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 honeydew 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:18 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,19 we inquire
What’s laid up for tomorrow.

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 tomorrow, 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’d20
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 stranger21 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,
It locally contains or heaven or hell;
There’s no third place in’t.

Duchess

How do you affect it?

Antonio

My banishment, feeding my melancholy,
Would often reason thus.

Duchess

Pray, let’s hear it.

Antonio

Say a man never marry, nor have children,
What takes that from him? Only the bare name
Of being a father, or the weak delight
To see the little wanton ride a-cock-horse
Upon a painted stick, or hear him chatter
Like a taught starling.

Duchess

Fie, fie, what’s all this?
One of your eyes is bloodshot; use my ring to’t.
They say ’tis very sovereign. ’Twas my wedding-ring,
And I did vow never to part with it
But to my second husband.

Antonio

You have parted with it now.

Duchess

Yes, to help your eyesight.

Antonio

You have made me stark blind.

Duchess

How?

Antonio

There is a saucy and ambitious devil
Is dancing in this circle.

Duchess

Remove him.

Antonio

How?

Duchess

There needs small conjuration, when your finger
May do it: thus. Is it fit?
She puts the ring upon his finger: he kneels.

Antonio

What said you?

Duchess

Sir,
This goodly roof of yours is too low built;
I cannot stand upright in’t nor discourse,
Without I raise it higher. Raise yourself;
Or, if you please, my hand to help you: so. Raises him.

Antonio

Ambition, madam, is a great man’s madness,
That is not kept in chains and close-pent rooms,
But in fair lightsome lodgings, and is girt
With the wild noise of prattling visitants,
Which makes it lunatic beyond all cure.
Conceive not I am so stupid but I aim22
Whereto your favours tend: but he’s a fool
That, being a-cold, would thrust his hands i’ the fire
To warm them.

Duchess

So, now the ground’s broke,
You may discover what a wealthy mine
I make your lord of.

Antonio

O my unworthiness!

Duchess

You were ill to sell yourself:
This dark’ning of your worth is not like that
Which tradesmen use i’ the city; their false lights
Are to rid bad wares off: and I must tell you,
If you will know where breathes a complete man
(I speak it without flattery), turn your eyes,
And progress through yourself.

Antonio

Were there nor heaven nor hell,
I should be honest: I have long serv’d virtue,
And ne’er ta’en wages of her.

Duchess

Now she pays it.
The misery of us that are born great!
We are forc’d to woo, because none dare woo us;
And as a tyrant doubles with his words,
And fearfully equivocates, so we
Are forc’d to express our violent passions
In riddles and in dreams, and leave the path
Of simple virtue, which was never made
To seem the thing it is not. Go, go brag
You have left me heartless; mine is in your bosom:
I hope ’twill multiply love there. You do tremble:
Make not your heart so dead a piece of flesh,
To fear more than to love me. Sir, be confident:
What is’t distracts you? This is flesh and blood, sir;
’Tis not the figure cut in alabaster
Kneels at my husband’s tomb. Awake, awake, man!
I do here put off all vain ceremony,
And only do appear to you a young widow
That claims you for her husband, and, like a widow,
I use but half a blush in’t.

Antonio

Truth speak for me;
I will remain the constant sanctuary
Of your good name.

Duchess

I thank you, gentle love:
And ’cause you shall not come to me in debt,
Being now my steward, here upon your lips
I sign your Quietus est.23 This you should have begg’d now.
I have seen children oft eat sweetmeats thus,
As fearful to devour them too soon.

Antonio

But for your brothers?

Duchess

Do not think of them:
All discord without this circumference
Is only to be pitied, and not fear’d:
Yet, should they know it, time will easily
Scatter the tempest.

Antonio

These words should be mine,
And all the parts you have spoke, if some part of it
Would not have savour’d flattery.

Duchess

Kneel.

| Cariola comes from behind the arras.

Antonio

Ha!

Duchess

Be not amaz’d; this woman’s of my counsel:
I have heard lawyers say, a contract in a chamber
Per verba [de] presenti24 is absolute marriage.
She and Antonio kneel.

Bless, heaven, this sacred gordian25 which let violence
Never untwine!

Antonio

And may our sweet affections, like the spheres,
Be still in motion!

Duchess

Quickening, and make
The like soft music!

Antonio

That we may imitate the loving palms,
Best emblem of a peaceful marriage,
That never bore fruit, divided!

Duchess

What can the church force more?

Antonio

That fortune may not know an accident,
Either of joy or sorrow, to divide
Our fixed wishes!

Duchess

How can the church build faster?26
We now are man and wife, and ’tis the church
That must but echo this.—Maid, stand apart:
I now am blind.

Antonio

What’s your conceit in this?

Duchess

I would have you lead your fortune by the hand
Unto your marriage-bed:
(You speak in me this, for we now are one:)
We’ll only lie and talk together, and plot
To appease my humorous27 kindred; and if you please,
Like the old tale in Alexander and Lodowick,
Lay a naked sword between us, keep us chaste.
O, let me shrowd my blushes in your bosom,
Since ’tis the treasury of all my secrets!

| Exeunt Duchess and Antonio.

Cariola

Whether the spirit of greatness or of woman
Reign most in her, I know not; but it shows
A fearful madness. I owe her much of pity.

| Exit.

Act
II

Scene
I

Malfi. An apartment in the palace of the Duchess.

| Enter Bosala and Castruccio.
Bosola | You say you would fain be taken for an eminent courtier?
Castruccio | ’Tis the very main28 of my ambition.

Bosola

Let me see: you have a reasonable good face for’t already, and your nightcap expresses your ears sufficient largely. I would have you learn to twirl the strings of your band with a good grace, and in a set speech, at th’ end of every sentence, to hum three or four times, or blow your nose till it smart again, to recover your memory. When you come to be a president in criminal causes, if you smile upon a prisoner, hang him; but if you frown upon him and threaten him, let him be sure to scape the gallows.

Castruccio | I would be a very merry president.
Bosola | Do not sup o’ nights; ’twill beget you an admirable wit.

Castruccio

Rather it would make me have a good stomach to quarrel; for they say, your roaring boys eat meat seldom, and that makes them so valiant. But how shall I know whether the people take me for an eminent fellow?

Bosola

I will teach a trick to know it: give out you lie a-dying, and if you hear the common people curse you, be sure you are taken for one of the prime nightcaps.29

| Enter an Old Lady.
| You come from painting now.
Old Lady | From what?

Bosola

Why, from your scurvy face-physic. To behold thee not painted inclines somewhat near a miracle. These in thy face here were deep ruts and foul sloughs the last progress.30 There was a lady in France that, having had the smallpox, flayed the skin off her face to make it more level; and whereas before she looked like a nutmeg-grater, after she resembled an abortive hedgehog.

Old Lady | Do you call this painting?

Bosola

No, no, but you call [it] careening31 of an old morphewed32 lady, to make her disembogue33 again: there’s roughcast phrase to your plastic.34

Old Lady | It seems you are well acquainted with my closet.

Bosola

One would suspect it for a shop of witchcraft, to find in it the fat of serpents, spawn of snakes, Jews’ spittle, and their young children’s ordure; and all these for the face. I would sooner eat a dead pigeon taken from the soles of the feet of one sick of the plague, than kiss one of you fasting. Here are two of you, whose sin of your youth is the very patrimony of the physician; makes him renew his foot-cloth with the spring, and change his high-pric’d courtesan with the fall of the leaf. I do wonder you do not loathe yourselves. Observe my meditation now.

What thing is in this outward form of man
To be belov’d? We account it ominous,
If nature do produce a colt, or lamb,
A fawn, or goat, in any limb resembling
A man, and fly from’t as a prodigy:
Man stands amaz’d to see his deformity
In any other creature but himself.
But in our own flesh though we bear diseases
Which have their true names only ta’en from beasts—
As the most ulcerous wolf and swinish measle—
Though we are eaten up of lice and worms,
And though continually we bear about us
A rotten and dead body, we delight
To hide it in rich tissue: all our fear,
Nay, all our terror, is, lest our physician
Should put us in the ground to be made sweet.—

Your wife’s gone to Rome: you two couple, and get you to the wells at Lucca to recover your aches. I have other work on foot.

| Exeunt Castruccio and Old Lady.

I observe our duchess
Is sick a-days, she pukes, her stomach seethes,
The fins of her eyelids look most teeming blue,35
She wanes i’ the cheek, and waxes fat i’ the flank,
And, contrary to our Italian fashion,
Wears a loose-bodied gown: there’s somewhat in’t.
I have a trick may chance discover it,
A pretty one; I have bought some apricocks,
The first our spring yields.

| Enter Antonio and Delio, talking together apart.

Delio

And so long since married?
You amaze me.

Antonio

Let me seal your lips forever:
For, did I think that anything but th’ air
Could carry these words from you, I should wish
You had no breath at all.—Now, sir, in your contemplation?
You are studying to become a great wise fellow.

Bosola

O, sir, the opinion of wisdom is a foul tetter36 that runs all over a man’s body: if simplicity direct us to have no evil, it directs us to a happy being; for the subtlest folly proceeds from the subtlest wisdom: let me be simply honest.

Antonio

I do understand your inside.

Bosola

Do you so?

Antonio

Because you would not seem to appear to th’ world
Puff’d up with your preferment, you continue
This out-of-fashion melancholy: leave it, leave it.

Bosola

Give me leave to be honest in any phrase, in any compliment whatsoever. Shall I confess myself to you? I look no higher than I can reach: they are the gods that must ride on winged horses. A lawyer’s mule of a slow pace will both suit my disposition and business; for, mark me, when a man’s mind rides faster than his horse can gallop, they quickly both tire.

Antonio

You would look up to heaven, but I think
The devil, that rules i’ th’ air, stands in your light.

Bosola

O, sir, you are lord of the ascendant,37 chief man with the duchess: a duke was your cousin-german remov’d. Say you were lineally descended from King Pepin, or he himself, what of this? Search the heads of the greatest rivers in the world, you shall find them but bubbles of water. Some would think the souls of princes were brought forth by some more weighty cause than those of meaner persons: they are deceiv’d, there’s the same hand to them; the like passions sway them; the same reason that makes a vicar go to law for a tithe-pig, and undo his neighbours, makes them spoil a whole province, and batter down goodly cities with the cannon.

| Enter Duchess and Ladies.

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!38

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-year39

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 blackthorn.—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 apparently40
The young springal41 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.

| Exit.

Duchess

Lights to my chamber!—O good Antonio,
I fear I am undone!

Delio

Lights there, lights!

| Exeunt Duchess and Ladies.

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 that you may pretend
She’ll use some prepar’d antidote of her own,
Lest the physicians should re-poison her.

Antonio

I am lost in amazement: I know not what to think on’t.

| Exeunt.

Scene
II

A hall in the same palace.

| Enter Bosala and Old Lady.

Bosola

So, so, there’s no question but her techiness42 and most vulturous eating of the apricocks are apparent signs of breeding, now?

Old Lady | I am in haste, sir.
Bosola | There was a young waiting-woman had a monstrous desire to see the glasshouse—
Old Lady | Nay, pray, let me go. I will hear no more of the glasshouse. You are still43 abusing women!

Bosola

Who, I? No; only, by the way now and then, mention your frailties. The orange-tree bears ripe and green fruit and blossoms all together; and some of you give entertainment for pure love, but more for more precious reward. The lusty spring smells well; but drooping autumn tastes well. If we have the same golden showers that rained in the time of Jupiter the thunderer, you have the same Danaes still, to hold up their laps to receive them. Didst thou never study the mathematics?

Old Lady | What’s that, sir?

Bosola

Why, to know the trick how to make a many lines meet in one centre. Go, go, give your foster-daughters good counsel: tell them, that the devil takes delight to hang at a woman’s girdle, like a false rusty watch, that she cannot discern how the time passes.

| Exit Old Lady.
| Enter Antonio, Roderigo, and Grisolan.

Antonio

Shut up the court-gates.

Roderigo

Why, sir? What’s the danger?

Antonio

Shut up the posterns presently, and call
All the officers o’ th’ court.

Grisolan

I shall instantly.

| Exit.

Antonio

Who keeps the key o’ th’ park-gate?

Roderigo

Forobosco.

Antonio

Let him bring’t presently.

| Reenter Grisolan with Servants.
First Servant | O, gentleman o’ th’ court, the foulest treason!
Bosola | Aside. If that these apricocks should be poison’d now, Without my knowledge?
First Servant | There was taken even now a Switzer in the duchess’ bedchamber—
Second Servant | A Switzer!
First Servant | With a pistol—
Second Servant | There was a cunning traitor!
First Servant | And all the moulds of his buttons were leaden bullets.
Second Servant | O wicked cannibal!
First Servant | ’Twas a French plot, upon my life.
Second Servant | To see what the devil can do!
Antonio | Are all the officers here?
Servants | We are.

Antonio

Gentlemen,
We have lost much plate, you know; and but this evening
Jewels, to the value of four thousand ducats,
Are missing in the duchess’ cabinet.
Are the gates shut?

Servant

Yes.

Antonio

’Tis the duchess’ pleasure
Each officer be lock’d into his chamber
Till the sun-rising; and to send the keys
Of all their chests and of their outward doors
Into her bedchamber. She is very sick.

Roderigo

At her pleasure.

Antonio

She entreats you take’t not ill: the innocent
Shall be the more approv’d by it.

Bosola | Gentlemen o’ the wood-yard, where’s your Switzer now?
First Servant | By this hand, ’twas credibly reported by one o’ the black guard.44
| Exeunt all except Antonio and Delio.

Delio

How fares it with the duchess?

Antonio

She’s expos’d
Unto the worst of torture, pain, and fear.

Delio

Speak to her all happy comfort.

Antonio

How I do play the fool with mine own danger!
You are this night, dear friend, to post to Rome:
My life lies in your service.

Delio

Do not doubt me.

Antonio

O, ’tis far from me: and yet fear presents me
Somewhat that looks like danger.

Delio

Believe it,
’Tis but the shadow of your fear, no more:
How superstitiously we mind our evils!
The throwing down salt, or crossing of a hare,
Bleeding at nose, the stumbling of a horse,
Or singing of a cricket, are of power
To daunt whole man in us. Sir, fare you well:
I wish you all the joys of a bless’d father;
And, for my faith, lay this unto your breast—
Old friends, like old swords, still are trusted best.

| Exit.
| Enter Cariola.

Cariola

Sir, you are the happy father of a son:
Your wife commends him to you.

Antonio

Blessed comfort!—
For heaven’ sake, tend her well: I’ll presently45
Go set a figure for’s nativity.46

| Exeunt.

Scene
III

The court of the same palace.

| Enter Bosala, with a dark lantern.

Bosola

Sure I did hear a woman shriek: list, ha!
And the sound came, if I receiv’d it right,
From the duchess’ lodgings. There’s some stratagem
In the confining all our courtiers
To their several wards: I must have part of it;
My intelligence will freeze else. List, again!
It may be ’twas the melancholy bird,
Best friend of silence and of solitariness,
The owl, that screamed so.—Ha! Antonio!

| Enter Antonio with a candle, his sword drawn.

Antonio

I heard some noise.—Who’s there? What art thou? Speak.

Bosola

Antonio, put not your face nor body
To such a forc’d expression of fear;
I am Bosola, your friend.

Antonio

Bosola!—
Aside. This mole does undermine me.—Heard you not
A noise even now?

Bosola

From whence?

Antonio

From the duchess’ lodging.

Bosola

Not I: did you?

Antonio

I did, or else I dream’d.

Bosola

Let’s walk towards it.

Antonio

No: it may be ’twas
But the rising of the wind.

Bosola

Very likely.
Methinks ’tis very cold, and yet you sweat:
You look wildly.

Antonio

I have been setting a figure47
For the duchess’ jewels.

Bosola

Ah, and how falls your question?
Do you find it radical?48

Antonio

What’s that to you?
’Tis rather to be question’d what design,
When all men were commanded to their lodgings,
Makes you a nightwalker.

Bosola

In sooth, I’ll tell you:
Now all the court’s asleep, I thought the devil
Had least to do here; I came to say my prayers;
And if it do offend you I do so,
You are a fine courtier.

Antonio

Aside. This fellow will undo me.—
You gave the duchess apricocks today:
Pray heaven they were not poison’d!

Bosola

Poison’d! a Spanish fig
For the imputation!

Antonio

Traitors are ever confident
Till they are discover’d. There were jewels stol’n too:
In my conceit, none are to be suspected
More than yourself.

Bosola

You are a false steward.

Antonio

Saucy slave, I’ll pull thee up by the roots.

Bosola

May be the ruin will crush you to pieces.

Antonio

You are an impudent snake indeed, sir:
Are you scarce warm, and do you show your sting?
You libel49 well, sir?

Bosola

No, sir: copy it out,
And I will set my hand to’t.

Antonio

Aside. My nose bleeds.
One that were superstitious would count
This ominous, when it merely comes by chance.
Two letters, that are wrought here for my name,50
Are drown’d 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.

Bosola

Antonio hereabout did drop a paper:—
Some of your help, false friend.51—O, here it is.
What’s here? a child’s nativity calculated!

Reads. “The duchess was deliver’d 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. Caetera non scrutantur.”52

Why, now ’tis most apparent; this precise fellow
Is the duchess’ bawd:—I have it to my wish!
This is a parcel of intelligency53
Our courtiers were cas’d 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’ th’ morning posts to Rome: by him I’ll send
A letter that shall make her brothers’ galls
O’erflow their livers. This was a thrifty54 way!
Though lust do mask in ne’er so strange disguise,
She’s oft found witty, but is never wise.

| Exit.

Scene
IV

Rome. An apartment in the palace of the Cardinal.

| Enter Cardinal and Julia.

Cardinal

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 anchorite55
Here for devotion.

Cardinal

Thou art a witty false one—
I mean, to him.

Julia

You have prevail’d with me
Beyond my strongest thoughts; I would not now
Find you inconstant.

Cardinal

Do not put thyself
To such a voluntary torture, which proceeds
Out of your own guilt.

Julia

How, my lord!

Cardinal

You fear
My constancy, because you have approv’d56
Those giddy and wild turnings in yourself.

Julia

Did you e’er find them?

Cardinal

Sooth, generally for women,
A man might strive to make glass malleable,
Ere he should make them fixed.

Julia

So, my lord.

Cardinal

We had need go borrow that fantastic glass
Invented by Galileo the Florentine
To view another spacious world i’ th’ moon,
And look to find a constant woman there.

Julia

This is very well, my lord.

Cardinal

Why do you weep?
Are tears your justification? The selfsame tears
Will fall into your husband’s bosom, lady,
With a loud protestation that you love him
Above the world. Come, I’ll love you wisely,
That’s jealously; since I am very certain
You cannot make me cuckold.

Julia

I’ll go home
To my husband.

Cardinal

You may thank me, lady,
I have taken you off your melancholy perch,
Bore you upon my fist, and show’d you game,
And let you fly at it.—I pray thee, kiss me.—
When thou wast with thy husband, thou wast watch’d
Like a tame elephant:—still you are to thank me:—
Thou hadst only kisses from him and high feeding;
But what delight was that? ’Twas just like one
That hath a little fing’ring on the lute,
Yet cannot tune it:—still you are to thank me.

Julia

You told me of a piteous wound i’ th’ heart,
And a sick liver, when you woo’d me first,
And spake like one in physic.57

Cardinal

Who’s that?—

| Enter Servant.

Rest firm, for my affection to thee,
Lightning moves slow to’t.

Servant

Madam, a gentleman,
That’s come post from Malfi, desires to see you.

Cardinal

Let him enter: I’ll withdraw.

| Exit.

Servant

He says
Your husband, old Castruccio, is come to Rome,
Most pitifully tir’d with riding post.

| Exit.
| Enter Delio.

Julia

Aside. Signior Delio! ’tis one of my old suitors.

Delio

I was bold to come and see you.

Julia

Sir, you are welcome.

Delio

Do you lie here?

Julia

Sure, your own experience
Will satisfy you no: our Roman prelates
Do not keep lodging for ladies.

Delio

Very well:
I have brought you no commendations from your husband,
For I know none by him.

Julia

I hear he’s come to Rome.

Delio

I never knew man and beast, of a horse and a knight,
So weary of each other. If he had had a good back,
He would have undertook to have borne his horse,
His breech was so pitifully sore.

Julia

Your laughter
Is my pity.

Delio

Lady, I know not whether
You want money, but I have brought you some.

Julia

From my husband?

Delio

No, from mine own allowance.

Julia

I must hear the condition, ere I be bound to take it.

Delio

Look on’t, ’tis gold; hath it not a fine colour?

Julia

I have a bird more beautiful.

Delio

Try the sound on’t.

Julia

A lute-string far exceeds it.
It hath no smell, like cassia or civet;
Nor is it physical,58 though some fond doctors
Persuade us seethe’t in cullises.59 I’ll tell you,
This is a creature bred by—

| Reenter Servant.

Servant

Your husband’s come,
Hath deliver’d a letter to the Duke of Calabria
That, to my thinking, hath put him out of his wits.

| Exit.

Julia

Sir, you hear:
Pray, let me know your business and your suit
As briefly as can be.

Delio

With good speed: I would wish you,
At such time as you are nonresident
With your husband, my mistress.

Julia

Sir, I’ll go ask my husband if I shall,
And straight return your answer.

| Exit.

Delio

Very fine!
Is this her wit, or honesty, that speaks thus?
I heard one say the duke was highly mov’d
With a letter sent from Malfi. I do fear
Antonio is betray’d. How fearfully
Shows his ambition now! Unfortunate fortune!
They pass through whirlpools, and deep woes do shun,
Who the event weigh ere the action’s done.

| Exit.

Scene
V

Another apartment in the same palace.

| Enter Cardinal and Ferdinand with a letter.

Ferdinand

I have this night digg’d up a mandrake.60

Cardinal

Say you?

Ferdinand

And I am grown mad with’t.

Cardinal

What’s the prodigy?

Ferdinand

Read there—a sister damn’d: she’s loose i’ the hilts;61
Grown a notorious strumpet.

Cardinal

Speak lower.

Ferdinand

Lower!
Rogues do not whisper’t now, but seek to publish’t
(As servants do the bounty of their lords)
Aloud; and with a covetous searching eye,
To mark who note them. O, confusion seize her!
She hath had most cunning bawds to serve her turn,
And more secure conveyances for lust
Than towns of garrison for service.

Cardinal

Is’t possible?
Can this be certain?

Ferdinand

Rhubarb, O, for rhubarb
To purge this choler! Here’s the cursed day
To prompt my memory; and here’t shall stick
Till of her bleeding heart I make a sponge
To wipe it out.

Cardinal

Why do you make yourself
So wild a tempest?

Ferdinand

Would I could be one,
That I might toss her palace ’bout her ears,
Root up her goodly forests, blast her meads,
And lay her general territory as waste
As she hath done her honours.

Cardinal

Shall our blood,
The royal blood of Arragon and Castile,
Be thus attainted?

Ferdinand

Apply desperate physic:
We must not now use balsamum, but fire,
The smarting cupping-glass, for that’s the mean
To purge infected blood, such blood as hers.
There is a kind of pity in mine eye—
I’ll give it to my handkercher; and now ’tis here,
I’ll bequeath this to her bastard.

Cardinal

What to do?

Ferdinand

Why, to make soft lint for his mother’s wounds,
When I have hew’d her to pieces.

Cardinal

Curs’d creature!
Unequal nature, to place women’s hearts
So far upon the left side!62

Ferdinand

Foolish men,
That e’er will trust their honour in a bark
Made of so slight weak bulrush as is woman,
Apt every minute to sink it!

Cardinal

Thus ignorance, when it hath purchas’d honour,
It cannot wield it.

Ferdinand

Methinks I see her laughing—
Excellent hyena! Talk to me somewhat quickly,
Or my imagination will carry me
To see her in the shameful act of sin.

Cardinal

With whom?

Ferdinand

Happily with some strong-thigh’d bargeman,
Or one o’ th’ wood-yard that can quoit the sledge63
Or toss the bar, or else some lovely squire
That carries coals up to her privy lodgings.

Cardinal

You fly beyond your reason.

Ferdinand

Go to, mistress!
’Tis not your whore’s milk that shall quench my wildfire,
But your whore’s blood.

Cardinal

How idly shows this rage, which carries you,
As men convey’d 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.

Ferdinand

Have not you
My palsy?

Cardinal

Yes, [but] I can be angry
Without this rupture. There is not in nature
A thing that makes man so deform’d, so beastly,
As doth intemperate anger. Chide yourself.
You have divers men who never yet express’d
Their strong desire of rest but by unrest,
By vexing of themselves. Come, put yourself
In tune.

Ferdinand

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.

Cardinal

Are you stark mad?

Ferdinand

I would have their bodies
Burnt in a coal-pit with the ventage stopp’d,
That their curs’d 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-boil64 their bastard to a cullis,
And give’t his lecherous father to renew
The sin of his back.

Cardinal

I’ll leave you.

Ferdinand

Nay, I have done.
I am confident, had I been damn’d 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 [loves] 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
III

Scene
I

Malfi. An apartment in the palace of the Duchess.

| Enter Antonio and Delio.

Antonio

Our noble friend, my most beloved 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?

Antonio

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.

Antonio

You have not been in law, friend Delio,
Nor in prison, nor a suitor at the court,
Nor begg’d 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 arriv’d yet to the ear
Of the lord cardinal?

Antonio

I fear it hath:
The Lord Ferdinand, that’s newly come to court,
Doth bear himself right dangerously.

Delio

Pray, why?

Antonio

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?

Antonio

The common rabble do directly say
She is a strumpet.

Delio

And your graver heads
Which would be politic, what censure they?

Antonio

They do observe I grow to infinite purchase,65
The left hand way; and all suppose the duchess
Would amend it, if she could; for, say they,
Great princes, though they grudge their officers
Should have such large and unconfined means
To get wealth under them, will not complain,
Lest thereby they should make them odious
Unto the people. For other obligation
Of love or marriage between her and me
They never dream of.

Delio

The Lord Ferdinand
Is going to bed.

| Enter Duchess, Ferdinand, and Attendants.

Ferdinand

I’ll instantly to bed,
For I am weary.—I am to bespeak
A husband for you.

Duchess

For me, sir! Pray, who is’t?

Ferdinand

The great Count Malatesti.

Duchess

Fie upon him!
A count! He’s a mere stick of sugar-candy;
You may look quite through him. When I choose
A husband, I will marry for your honour.

Ferdinand

You shall do well in’t.—How is’t, worthy Antonio?

Duchess

But, sir, I am to have private conference with you
About a scandalous report is spread
Touching mine honour.

Ferdinand

Let me be ever deaf to’t:
One of Pasquil’s paper-bullets,66 court-calumny,
A pestilent air, which princes’ palaces
Are seldom purg’d of. Yet, say that it were true,
I pour it in your bosom, my fix’d love
Would strongly excuse, extenuate, nay, deny
Faults, were they apparent in you. Go, be safe
In your own innocency.

Duchess

Aside. O bless’d comfort!
This deadly air is purg’d.

| Exeunt Duchess, Antonio, Delio, and Attendants.

Ferdinand

Her guilt treads on
Hot-burning coulters.67

| Enter Bosala.

Now, Bosola,
How thrives our intelligence?68

Bosola

Sir, uncertainly:
’Tis rumour’d she hath had three bastards, but
By whom we may go read i’ the stars.

Ferdinand

Why, some
Hold opinion all things are written there.

Bosola

Yes, if we could find spectacles to read them.
I do suspect there hath been some sorcery
Us’d on the duchess.

Ferdinand

Sorcery! to what purpose?

Bosola

To make her dote on some desertless fellow
She shames to acknowledge.

Ferdinand

Can your faith give way
To think there’s power in potions or in charms,
To make us love whether we will or no?

Bosola

Most certainly.

Ferdinand

Away! these are mere gulleries,69 horrid things,
Invented by some cheating mountebanks
To abuse us. Do you think that herbs or charms
Can force the will? Some trials have been made
In this foolish practice, but the ingredients
Were lenitive70 poisons, such as are of force
To make the patient mad; and straight the witch
Swears by equivocation they are in love.
The witchcraft lies in her rank blood. This night
I will force confession from her. You told me
You had got, within these two days, a false key
Into her bedchamber.

Bosola

I have.

Ferdinand

As I would wish.

Bosola

What do you intend to do?

Ferdinand

Can you guess?

Bosola

No.

Ferdinand

Do not ask, then:
He that can compass me, and know my drifts,
May say he hath put a girdle ’bout the world,
And sounded all her quicksands.

Bosola

I do not
Think so.

Ferdinand

What do you think, then, pray?

Bosola

That you
Are your own chronicle too much, and grossly
Flatter yourself.

Ferdinand

Give me thy hand; I thank thee:
I never gave pension but to flatterers,
Till I entertained thee. Farewell.
That friend a great man’s ruin strongly checks,
Who rails into his belief all his defects.

| Exeunt.

Scene
II

The bedchamber of the Duchess in the same.

| Enter Duchess, Antonio, and Cariola.

Duchess

Bring me the casket hither, and the glass.—
You get no lodging here tonight, my lord.

Antonio

Indeed, I must persuade one.

Duchess

Very good:
I hope in time ’twill grow into a custom,
That noblemen shall come with cap and knee
To purchase a night’s lodging of their wives.

Antonio

I must lie here.

Duchess

Must! You are a lord of misrule.

Antonio

Indeed, my rule is only in the night.

Duchess

To what use will you put me?

Antonio

We’ll sleep together

Duchess

Alas, what pleasure can two lovers find in sleep?

Cariola

My lord, I lie with her often, and I know
She’ll much disquiet you.

Antonio

See, you are complain’d of.

Cariola

For she’s the sprawling’st bedfellow.

Antonio

I shall like her the better for that.

Cariola

Sir, shall I ask you a question?

Antonio

Ay, pray thee, Cariola.

Cariola

Wherefore still, when you lie with my lady,
Do you rise so early?

Antonio

Labouring men
Count the clock oftenest, Cariola,
Are glad when their task’s ended.

Duchess

I’ll stop your mouth. Kisses him.

Antonio

Nay, that’s but one; Venus had two soft doves
To draw her chariot; I must have another.—

| She kisses him again.

When wilt thou marry, Cariola?

Cariola

Never, my lord.

Antonio

O, fie upon this single life! forgo it.
We read how Daphne, for her peevish [flight,]71
Became a fruitless bay-tree; Syrinx turn’d
To the pale empty reed; Anaxarete
Was frozen into marble: whereas those
Which married, or prov’d kind unto their friends,
Were by a gracious influence transhap’d
Into the olive, pomegranate, mulberry,
Became flowers, precious stones, or eminent stars.

Cariola

This is a vain poetry: but I pray you, tell me,
If there were propos’d me, wisdom, riches, and beauty,
In three several young men, which should I choose?

Antonio

’Tis a hard question. This was Paris’ case,
And he was blind in’t, and there was a great cause;
For how was’t possible he could judge right,
Having three amorous goddesses in view,
And they stark naked? ’Twas a motion
Were able to benight the apprehension
Of the severest counsellor of Europe.
Now I look on both your faces so well form’d,
It puts me in mind of a question I would ask.

Cariola

What is’t?

Antonio

I do wonder why hard-favour’d ladies,
For the most part, keep worse-favour’d waiting-women
To attend them, and cannot endure fair ones.

Duchess

O, that’s soon answer’d.
Did you ever in your life know an ill painter
Desire to have his dwelling next door to the shop
Of an excellent picture-maker? ’Twould disgrace
His face-making, and undo him. I prithee,
When were we so merry?—My hair tangles.

Antonio

Pray thee, Cariola, let’s steal forth the room,
And let her talk to herself: I have divers times
Serv’d her the like, when she hath chaf’d extremely.
I love to see her angry. Softly, Cariola.

| Exeunt Antonio and Cariola.

Duchess

Doth not the colour of my hair ’gin to change?
When I wax gray, I shall have all the court
Powder their hair with arras,72 to be like me.
You have cause to love me; I ent’red you into my heart

| Enter Ferdinand unseen.

Before you would vouchsafe to call for the keys.
We shall one day have my brothers take you napping.
Methinks his presence, being now in court,
Should make you keep your own bed; but you’ll say
Love mix’d with fear is sweetest. I’ll assure you,
You shall get no more children till my brothers
Consent to be your gossips. Have you lost your tongue?
’Tis welcome:
For know, whether I am doom’d to live or die,
I can do both like a prince.

Ferdinand

Die, then, quickly! Giving her a poniard.

Virtue, where art thou hid? What hideous thing
Is it that doth eclipse thee?

Duchess

Pray, sir, hear me.

Ferdinand

Or is it true thou art but a bare name,
And no essential thing?

Duchess

Sir—

Ferdinand

Do not speak.

Duchess

No, sir:
I will plant my soul in mine ears, to hear you.

Ferdinand

O most imperfect light of human reason,
That mak’st [us] so unhappy to foresee
What we can least prevent! Pursue thy wishes,
And glory in them: there’s in shame no comfort
But to be past all bounds and sense of shame.

Duchess

I pray, sir, hear me: I am married.

Ferdinand

So!

Duchess

Happily, not to your liking: but for that,
Alas, your shears do come untimely now
To clip the bird’s wings that’s already flown!
Will you see my husband?

Ferdinand

Yes, if I could change
Eyes with a basilisk.

Duchess

Sure, you came hither
By his confederacy.

Ferdinand

The howling of a wolf
Is music to thee, screech-owl: prithee, peace.—
Whate’er thou art that hast enjoy’d my sister,
For I am sure thou hear’st me, for thine own sake
Let me not know thee. I came hither prepar’d
To work thy discovery; yet am now persuaded
It would beget such violent effects
As would damn us both. I would not for ten millions
I had beheld thee: therefore use all means
I never may have knowledge of thy name;
Enjoy thy lust still, and a wretched life,
On that condition.—And for thee, vile woman,
If thou do wish thy lecher may grow old
In thy embracements, I would have thee build
Such a room for him as our anchorites
To holier use inhabit. Let not the sun
Shine on him till he’s dead; let dogs and monkeys
Only converse with him, and such dumb things
To whom nature denies use to sound his name;
Do not keep a paraquito, lest she learn it;
If thou do love him, cut out thine own tongue,
Lest it bewray him.

Duchess

Why might not I marry?
I have not gone about in this to create
Any new world or custom.

Ferdinand

Thou art undone;
And thou hast ta’en that massy sheet of lead
That hid thy husband’s bones, and folded it
About my heart.

Duchess

Mine bleeds for’t.

Ferdinand

Thine! thy heart!
What should I name’t unless a hollow bullet
Fill’d with unquenchable wildfire?

Duchess

You are in this
Too strict; and were you not my princely brother,
I would say, too wilful: my reputation
Is safe.

Ferdinand

Dost thou know what reputation is?
I’ll tell thee—to small purpose, since the instruction
Comes now too late.
Upon a time Reputation, Love, and Death,
Would travel o’er the world; and it was concluded
That they should part, and take three several ways.
Death told them, they should find him in great battles,
Or cities plagu’d with plagues: Love gives them counsel
To inquire for him ’mongst unambitious shepherds,
Where dowries were not talk’d of, and sometimes
’Mongst quiet kindred that had nothing left
By their dead parents: “Stay,” quoth Reputation,
“Do not forsake me; for it is my nature,
If once I part from any man I meet,
I am never found again.” And so for you:
You have shook hands with Reputation,
And made him invisible. So, fare you well:
I will never see you more.

Duchess

Why should only I,
Of all the other princes of the world,
Be cas’d up, like a holy relic? I have youth
And a little beauty.

Ferdinand

So you have some virgins
That are witches. I will never see thee more.

| Exit.
| Reenter Antonio with a pistol, and Cariola.

Duchess

You saw this apparition?

Antonio

Yes: we are
Betray’d. How came he hither? I should turn
This to thee, for that.

Cariola

Pray, sir, do; and when
That you have cleft my heart, you shall read there
Mine innocence.

Duchess

That gallery gave him entrance.

Antonio

I would this terrible thing would come again,
That, standing on my guard, I might relate
My warrantable love.—

| She shows the poniard.

Ha! what means this?

Duchess

He left this with me.

Antonio

And it seems did wish
You would use it on yourself.

Duchess

His action seem’d
To intend so much.

Antonio

This hath a handle to’t,
As well as a point: turn it towards him, and
So fasten the keen edge in his rank gall.

| Knocking within.

How now! who knocks? More earthquakes?

Duchess

I stand
As if a mine beneath my feet were ready
To be blown up.

Cariola

’Tis Bosola.

Duchess

Away!
O misery! methinks unjust actions
Should wear these masks and curtains, and not we.
You must instantly part hence: I have fashion’d it already.

| Exit Antonio.
| Enter Bosala.

Bosola

The duke your brother is ta’en up in a whirlwind;
Hath took horse, and’s rid post to Rome.

Duchess

So late?

Bosola

He told me, as he mounted into the saddle,
You were undone.

Duchess

Indeed, I am very near it.

Bosola

What’s the matter?

Duchess

Antonio, the master of our household,
Hath dealt so falsely with me in’s accounts.
My brother stood engag’d with me for money
Ta’en up of certain Neapolitan Jews,
And Antonio lets the bonds be forfeit.

Bosola

Strange!—Aside. This is cunning.

Duchess

And hereupon
My brother’s bills at Naples are protested
Against.—Call up our officers.

Bosola

I shall.

| Exit.
| Reenter Antonio.

Duchess

The place that you must fly to is Ancona:
Hire a house there; I’ll send after you
My treasure and my jewels. Our weak safety
Runs upon enginous wheels:73 short syllables
Must stand for periods. I must now accuse you
Of such a feigned crime as Tasso calls
Magnanima menzogna, a noble lie,
’Cause it must shield our honours.—Hark! they are coming.

| Reenter Bosala and Officers.

Antonio

Will your grace hear me?

Duchess

I have got well by you; you have yielded me
A million of loss: I am like to inherit
The people’s curses for your stewardship.
You had the trick in audit-time to be sick,
Till I had sign’d your quietus;74 and that cur’d you
Without help of a doctor.—Gentlemen,
I would have this man be an example to you all;
So shall you hold my favour; I pray, let him;
For h’as done that, alas, you would not think of,
And, because I intend to be rid of him,
I mean not to publish.—Use your fortune elsewhere.

Antonio

I am strongly arm’d to brook my overthrow,
As commonly men bear with a hard year.
I will not blame the cause on’t; but do think
The necessity of my malevolent star
Procures this, not her humour. O, the inconstant
And rotten ground of service! You may see,
’Tis even like him, that in a winter night,
Takes a long slumber o’er a dying fire,
A-loth to part from’t; yet parts thence as cold
As when he first sat down.

Duchess

We do confiscate,
Towards the satisfying of your accounts,
All that you have.

Antonio

I am all yours; and ’tis very fit
All mine should be so.

Duchess

So, sir, you have your pass.

Antonio

You may see, gentlemen, what ’tis to serve
A prince with body and soul.

| Exit.

Bosola

Here’s an example for extortion: what moisture is drawn out of the sea, when foul weather comes, pours down, and runs into the sea again.

Duchess

I would know what are your opinions
Of this Antonio.

Second Officer | He could not abide to see a pig’s head gaping: I thought your grace would find him a Jew.
Third Officer | I would you had been his officer, for your own sake.
Fourth Officer | You would have had more money.
First Officer | He stopped his ears with black wool, and to those came to him for money said he was thick of hearing.
Second Officer | Some said he was an hermaphrodite, for he could not abide a woman.
Fourth Officer | How scurvy proud he would look when the treasury was full! Well, let him go.
First Officer | Yes, and the chippings of the buttery fly after him, to scour his gold chain.75

Duchess

Leave us.

| Exeunt Officers.

What do you think of these?

Bosola

That these are rogues that in’s prosperity,
But to have waited on his fortune, could have wish’d
His dirty stirrup riveted through their noses,
And follow’d after’s mule, like a bear in a ring;
Would have prostituted their daughters to his lust;
Made their firstborn intelligencers;76 thought none happy
But such as were born under his blest planet,
And wore his livery: and do these lice drop off now?
Well, never look to have the like again:
He hath left a sort77 of flattering rogues behind him;
Their doom must follow. Princes pay flatterers
In their own money: flatterers dissemble their vices,
And they dissemble their lies; that’s justice.
Alas, poor gentleman!

Duchess

Poor! he hath amply fill’d his coffers.

Bosola

Sure, he was too honest. Pluto,78 the god of riches,
When he’s sent by Jupiter to any man,
He goes limping, to signify that wealth
That comes on God’s name comes slowly; but when he’s sent
On the devil’s errand, he rides post and comes in by scuttles.79
Let me show you what a most unvalu’d jewel
You have in a wanton humour thrown away,
To bless the man shall find him. He was an excellent
Courtier and most faithful; a soldier that thought it
As beastly to know his own value too little
As devilish to acknowledge it too much.
Both his virtue and form deserv’d a far better fortune:
His discourse rather delighted to judge itself than show itself:
His breast was fill’d with all perfection,
And yet it seemed a private whisp’ring-room,
It made so little noise of’t.

Duchess

But he was basely descended.

Bosola

Will you make yourself a mercenary herald,
Rather to examine men’s pedigrees than virtues?
You shall want80 him:
For know an honest statesman to a prince
Is like a cedar planted by a spring;
The spring bathes the tree’s root, the grateful tree
Rewards it with his shadow: you have not done so.
I would sooner swim to the Bermoothes on
Two politicians’ rotten bladders, tied
Together with an intelligencer’s heart-string,
Than depend on so changeable a prince’s favour.
Fare thee well, Antonio! Since the malice of the world
Would needs down with thee, it cannot be said yet
That any ill happen’d unto thee, considering thy fall
Was accompanied with virtue.

Duchess

O, you render me excellent music!

Bosola

Say you?

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 rests81 but I reveal
All to my lord? O, this base quality82
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

An apartment in the Cardinal’s palace at Rome.

| Enter Cardinal, Ferdinand, Malatesti, Pescara, Delio, and Silvio.

Cardinal

Must we turn soldier, then?

Malatesti

The emperor,
Hearing your worth that way, ere you attain’d
This reverend garment, joins you in commission
With the right fortunate soldier the Marquis of Pescara,
And the famous Lannoy.

Cardinal

He that had the honour
Of taking the French king prisoner?

Malatesti

The same.
Here’s a plot drawn for a new fortification
At Naples.

Ferdinand

This great Count Malatesti, I perceive,
Hath got employment?

Delio

No employment, my lord;
A marginal note in the muster-book, that he is
A voluntary lord.

Ferdinand

He’s no soldier.

Delio

He has worn gunpowder in’s hollow tooth for the toothache.

Silvio

He comes to the leaguer with a full intent
To eat fresh beef and garlic, means to stay
Till the scent be gone, and straight return to court.

Delio

He hath read all the late service
As the City-Chronicle relates it;
And keeps two pewterers going, only to express
Battles in model.

Silvio

Then he’ll fight by the book.

Delio

By the almanac, I think,
To choose good days and shun the critical;
That’s his mistress’ scarf.

Silvio

Yes, he protests
He would do much for that taffeta.

Delio

I think he would run away from a battle,
To save it from taking prisoner.

Silvio

He is horribly afraid
Gunpowder will spoil the perfume on’t.

Delio

I saw a Dutchman break his pate once
For calling him pot-gun; he made his head
Have a bore in’t like a musket.

Silvio

I would he had made a touch-hole to’t.
He is indeed a guarded sumpter-cloth,83
Only for the remove of the court.

| Enter Bosala.

Pescara

Bosola arriv’d! What should be the business?
Some falling-out amongst the cardinals.
These factions amongst great men, they are like
Foxes, when their heads are divided,
They carry fire in their tails, and all the country
About them goes to wrack for’t.

Silvio

What’s that Bosola?

Delio

I knew him in Padua—a fantastical scholar, like such who study to know how many knots was in Hercules’ club, of what colour Achilles’ beard was, or whether Hector were not troubled with the toothache. He hath studied himself half blear-eyed to know the true symmetry of Caesar’s nose by a shoeing-horn; and this he did to gain the name of a speculative man.

Pescara

Mark Prince Ferdinand:
A very salamander lives in’s eye,
To mock the eager violence of fire.

Silvio

That cardinal hath made more bad faces with his oppression than ever Michelangelo made good ones. He lifts up’s nose, like a foul porpoise before a storm.

Pescara

The Lord Ferdinand laughs.

Delio

Like a deadly cannon
That lightens ere it smokes.

Pescara

These are your true pangs of death,
The pangs of life, that struggle with great statesmen.

Delio

In such a deformed silence witches whisper their charms.

Cardinal

Doth she make religion her riding-hood
To keep her from the sun and tempest?

Ferdinand

That, that damns her. Methinks her fault and beauty,
Blended together, show like leprosy,
The whiter, the fouler. I make it a question
Whether her beggarly brats were ever christ’ned.

Cardinal

I will instantly solicit the state of Ancona
To have them banish’d.

Ferdinand

You are for Loretto:
I shall not be at your ceremony; fare you well.—
Write to the Duke of Malfi, my young nephew
She had by her first husband, and acquaint him
With’s mother’s honesty.

Bosola

I will.

Ferdinand

Antonio!
A slave that only smell’d of ink and counters,
And never in’s life look’d like a gentleman,
But in the audit-time.—Go, go presently,
Draw me out an hundred and fifty of our horse,
And meet me at the footbridge.

| Exeunt.

Scene
IV

| Enter Two Pilgrims to the Shrine of our Lady of Loretto.

First Pilgrim

I have not seen a goodlier shrine than this;
Yet I have visited many.

Second Pilgrim

The Cardinal of Arragon
Is this day to resign his cardinal’s hat:
His sister duchess likewise is arriv’d
To pay her vow of pilgrimage. I expect
A noble ceremony.

First Pilgrim

No question.—They come.

Here the ceremony of the Cardinal’s instalment, in the habit of a soldier, perform’d in delivering up his cross, hat, robes, and ring, at the shrine, and investing him with sword, helmet, shield, and spurs; then Antonio, the Duchess and their children, having presented themselves at the shrine, are, by a form of banishment in dumb-show expressed towards them by the Cardinal and the state of Ancona, banished: during all which ceremony, this ditty is sung, to very solemn music, by divers churchmen: and then exeunt all except the Two Pilgrims.

Arms and honours deck thy story,
To thy fame’s eternal glory!
Adverse fortune ever fly thee;
No disastrous fate come nigh thee!
I alone will sing thy praises,
Whom to honour virtue raises,
And thy study, that divine is,
Bent to martial discipline is,
Lay aside all those robes lie by thee;
Crown thy arts with arms, they’ll beautify thee.

O worthy of worthiest name, adorn’d in this manner,
Lead bravely thy forces on under war’s warlike banner!
O, mayst thou prove fortunate in all martial courses!
Guide thou still by skill in arts and forces!
Victory attend thee nigh, whilst fame sings loud thy powers;
Triumphant conquest crown thy head, and blessings pour down showers!84

First Pilgrim

Here’s a strange turn of state! who would have thought
So great a lady would have match’d herself
Unto so mean a person? Yet the cardinal
Bears himself much too cruel.

Second Pilgrim

They are banish’d.

First Pilgrim

But I would ask what power hath this state
Of Ancona to determine of a free prince?

Second Pilgrim

They are a free state, sir, and her brother show’d
How that the Pope, fore-hearing of her looseness,
Hath seiz’d into th’ protection of the church
The dukedom which she held as dowager.

First Pilgrim

But by what justice?

Second Pilgrim

Sure, I think by none,
Only her brother’s instigation.

First Pilgrim

What was it with such violence he took
Off from her finger?

Second Pilgrim

’Twas her wedding-ring;
Which he vow’d shortly he would sacrifice
To his revenge.

First Pilgrim

Alas, Antonio!
If that a man be thrust into a well,
No matter who sets hand to’t, his own weight
Will bring him sooner to th’ bottom. Come, let’s hence.
Fortune makes this conclusion general,
All things do help th’ unhappy man to fall.

| Exeunt.

Scene
V

Near Loretto.

| Enter Duchess, Antonio, Children, Cariola, and Servants.

Duchess

Banish’d Ancona!

Antonio

Yes, you see what power
Lightens in great men’s breath.

Duchess

Is all our train
Shrunk to this poor remainder?

Antonio

These poor men
Which have got little in your service, vow
To take your fortune: but your wiser buntings,85
Now they are fledg’d, are gone.

Duchess

They have done wisely.
This puts me in mind of death: physicians thus,
With their hands full of money, use to give o’er
Their patients.

Antonio

Right the fashion of the world:
From decay’d fortunes every flatterer shrinks;
Men cease to build where the foundation sinks.

Duchess

I had a very strange dream tonight.

Antonio

What was’t?

Duchess

Methought I wore my coronet of state,
And on a sudden all the diamonds
Were chang’d to pearls.

Antonio

My interpretation
Is, you’ll weep shortly; for to me the pearls
Do signify your tears.

Duchess

The birds that live i’ th’ field
On the wild benefit of nature live
Happier than we; for they may choose their mates,
And carol their sweet pleasures to the spring.

| Enter Bosala with a letter.

Bosola

You are happily o’erta’en.

Duchess

From my brother?

Bosola

Yes, from the Lord Ferdinand your brother
All love and safety.

Duchess

Thou dost blanch mischief,
Would’st make it white. See, see, like to calm weather
At sea before a tempest, false hearts speak fair
To those they intend most mischief.

Reads. “Send Antonio to me; I want his head in a business.”

A politic equivocation!
He doth not want your counsel, but your head;
That is, he cannot sleep till you be dead.
And here’s another pitfall that’s strew’d o’er
With roses; mark it, ’tis a cunning one:

Reads. ’I stand engaged for your husband for several debts at Naples: let not that trouble him; I had rather have his heart than his money’:—

And I believe so too.

Bosola

What do you believe?

Duchess

That he so much distrusts my husband’s love,
He will by no means believe his heart is with him
Until he see it: the devil is not cunning enough
To circumvent us in riddles.

Bosola

Will you reject that noble and free league
Of amity and love which I present you?

Duchess

Their league is like that of some politic kings,
Only to make themselves of strength and power
To be our after-ruin; tell them so.

Bosola

And what from you?

Antonio

Thus tell him; I will not come.

Bosola

And what of this?

Antonio

My brothers have dispers’d
Bloodhounds abroad; which till I hear are muzzl’d,
No truce, though hatch’d with ne’er such politic skill,
Is safe, that hangs upon our enemies’ will.
I’ll not come at them.

Bosola

This proclaims your breeding.
Every small thing draws a base mind to fear,
As the adamant draws iron. Fare you well, sir;
You shall shortly hear from’s.

| Exit.

Duchess

I suspect some ambush;
Therefore by all my love I do conjure you
To take your eldest son, and fly towards Milan.
Let us not venture all this poor remainder
In one unlucky bottom.

Antonio

You counsel safely.
Best of my life, farewell. Since we must part,
Heaven hath a hand in’t; but no otherwise
Than as some curious artist takes in sunder
A clock or watch, when it is out of frame,
To bring’t in better order.

Duchess

I know not which is best,
To see you dead, or part with you.—Farewell, boy:
Thou art happy that thou hast not understanding
To know thy misery; for all our wit
And reading brings us to a truer sense
Of sorrow.—In the eternal church, sir,
I do hope we shall not part thus.

Antonio

O, be of comfort!
Make patience a noble fortitude,
And think not how unkindly we are us’d:
Man, like to cassia, is prov’d best, being bruis’d.

Duchess

Must I, like to slave-born Russian,
Account it praise to suffer tyranny?
And yet, O heaven, thy heavy hand is in’t!
I have seen my little boy oft scourge his top,
And compar’d myself to’t: naught made me e’er
Go right but heaven’s scourge-stick.

Antonio

Do not weep:
Heaven fashion’d us of nothing; and we strive
To bring ourselves to nothing.—Farewell, Cariola,
And thy sweet armful.—If I do never see thee more,
Be a good mother to your little ones,
And save them from the tiger: fare you well.

Duchess

Let me look upon you once more, for that speech
Came from a dying father. Your kiss is colder
Than that I have seen an holy anchorite
Give to a dead man’s skull.

Antonio

My heart is turn’d to a heavy lump of lead,
With which I sound my danger: fare you well.

| Exeunt Antonio and his son.

Duchess

My laurel is all withered.

Cariola

Look, madam, what a troop of armed men
Make toward us!

| Reenter Bosala visarded, with a Guard.

Duchess

O, they are very welcome:
When Fortune’s wheel is over-charg’d with princes,
The weight makes it move swift: I would have my ruin
Be sudden.—I am your adventure, am I not?

Bosola

You are: you must see your husband no more.

Duchess

What devil art thou that counterfeit’st heaven’s thunder?

Bosola

Is that terrible? I would have you tell me whether
Is that note worse that frights the silly birds
Out of the corn, or that which doth allure them
To the nets? You have heark’ned to the last too much.

Duchess

O misery! like to a rusty o’ercharg’d cannon,
Shall I never fly in pieces?—Come, to what prison?

Bosola

To none.

Duchess

Whither, then?

Bosola

To your palace.

Duchess

I have heard
That Charon’s boat serves to convey all o’er
The dismal lake, but brings none back again.

Bosola

Your brothers mean you safety and pity.

Duchess

Pity!
With such a pity men preserve alive
Pheasants and quails, when they are not fat enough
To be eaten.

Bosola

These are your children?

Duchess

Yes.

Bosola

Can they prattle?

Duchess

No:
But I intend, since they were born accurs’d,
Curses shall be their first language.

Bosola

Fie, madam!
Forget this base, low fellow—

Duchess

Were I a man,
I’d beat that counterfeit face86 into thy other.

Bosola

One of no birth.

Duchess

Say that he was born mean,
Man is most happy when’s own actions
Be arguments and examples of his virtue.

Bosola

A barren, beggarly virtue.

Duchess

I prithee, who is greatest? Can you tell?
Sad tales befit my woe: I’ll tell you one.
A salmon, as she swam unto the sea.
Met with a dogfish, who encounters her
With this rough language; “Why art thou so bold
To mix thyself with our high state of floods,
Being no eminent courtier, but one
That for the calmest and fresh time o’ th’ year
Dost live in shallow rivers, rank’st thyself
With silly smelts and shrimps? And darest thou
Pass by our dog-ship without reverence?”
“O,” quoth the salmon, “sister, be at peace:
Thank Jupiter we both have pass’d the net!
Our value never can be truly known,
Till in the fisher’s basket we be shown:
I’ th’ market then my price may be the higher,
Even when I am nearest to the cook and fire.”
So to great men the moral may be stretched;
Men oft are valu’d high, when they’re most wretched.—
But come, whither you please. I am arm’d ’gainst misery;
Bent to all sways of the oppressor’s will:
There’s no deep valley but near some great hill.

| Exeunt.

Act
IV

Scene
I

Malfi. An apartment in the palace of the Duchess.

| Enter Ferdinand and Bosala.

Ferdinand

How doth our sister duchess bear herself
In her imprisonment?

Bosola

Nobly: I’ll describe her.
She’s sad as one long us’d to’t, and she seems
Rather to welcome the end of misery
Than shun it; a behaviour so noble
As gives a majesty to adversity:
You may discern the shape of loveliness
More perfect in her tears than in her smiles:
She will muse for hours together; and her silence,
Methinks, expresseth more than if she spake.

Ferdinand

Her melancholy seems to be fortified
With a strange disdain.

Bosola

’Tis so; and this restraint,
Like English mastives that grow fierce with tying,
Makes her too passionately apprehend
Those pleasures she is kept from.

Ferdinand

Curse upon her!
I will no longer study in the book
Of another’s heart. Inform her what I told you.

| Exit.
| Enter Duchess and Attendants.

Bosola

All comfort to your grace!

Duchess

I will have none.
Pray thee, why dost thou wrap thy poison’d pills
In gold and sugar?

Bosola

Your elder brother, the Lord Ferdinand,
Is come to visit you, and sends you word,
’Cause once he rashly made a solemn vow
Never to see you more, he comes i’ th’ night;
And prays you gently neither torch nor taper
Shine in your chamber. He will kiss your hand,
And reconcile himself; but for his vow
He dares not see you.

Duchess

At his pleasure.—
Take hence the lights.—He’s come.

| Exeunt Attendants with lights.
| Enter Ferdinand.

Ferdinand

Where are you?

Duchess

Here, sir.

Ferdinand

This darkness suits you well.

Duchess

I would ask you pardon.

Ferdinand

You have it;
For I account it the honorabl’st revenge,
Where I may kill, to pardon.—Where are your cubs?

Duchess

Whom?

Ferdinand

Call them your children;
For though our national law distinguish bastards
From true legitimate issue, compassionate nature
Makes them all equal.

Duchess

Do you visit me for this?
You violate a sacrament o’ th’ church
Shall make you howl in hell for’t.

Ferdinand

It had been well,
Could you have liv’d thus always; for, indeed,
You were too much i’ th’ light:—but no more;
I come to seal my peace with you. Here’s a hand
Gives her a dead man’s hand.
To which you have vow’d much love; the ring upon’t
You gave.

Duchess

I affectionately kiss it.

Ferdinand

Pray, do, and bury the print of it in your heart.
I will leave this ring with you for a love-token;
And the hand as sure as the ring; and do not doubt
But you shall have the heart too. When you need a friend,
Send it to him that ow’d it; you shall see
Whether he can aid you.

Duchess

You are very cold:
I fear you are not well after your travel.—
Ha! lights!—O, horrible!

Ferdinand

Let her have lights enough.

| Exit.

Duchess

What witchcraft doth he practise, that he hath left
A dead man’s hand here?

Here is discovered, behind a traverse,87 the artificial figures of Antonio and his children, appearing as if they were dead.

Bosola

Look you, here’s the piece from which ’twas ta’en.
He doth present you this sad spectacle,
That, now you know directly they are dead,
Hereafter you may wisely cease to grieve
For that which cannot be recovered.

Duchess

There is not between heaven and earth one wish
I stay for after this. It wastes me more
Than were’t my picture, fashion’d out of wax,
Stuck with a magical needle, and then buried
In some foul dunghill; and yon’s an excellent property
For a tyrant, which I would account mercy.

Bosola

What’s that?

Duchess

If they would bind me to that lifeless trunk,
And let me freeze to death.

Bosola

Come, you must live.

Duchess

That’s the greatest torture souls feel in hell,
In hell, that they must live, and cannot die.
Portia,88 I’ll new kindle thy coals again,
And revive the rare and almost dead example
Of a loving wife.

Bosola

O, fie! despair? Remember
You are a Christian.

Duchess

The church enjoins fasting:
I’ll starve myself to death.

Bosola

Leave this vain sorrow.
Things being at the worst begin to mend: the bee
When he hath shot his sting into your hand,
May then play with your eyelid.

Duchess

Good comfortable fellow,
Persuade a wretch that’s broke upon the wheel
To have all his bones new set; entreat him live
To be executed again. Who must despatch me?
I account this world a tedious theatre,
For I do play a part in’t ’gainst my will.

Bosola

Come, be of comfort; I will save your life.

Duchess

Indeed, I have not leisure to tend so small a business.

Bosola

Now, by my life, I pity you.

Duchess

Thou art a fool, then,
To waste thy pity on a thing so wretched
As cannot pity itself. I am full of daggers.
Puff, let me blow these vipers from me.

| Enter Servant.

What are you?

Servant

One that wishes you long life.

Duchess

I would thou wert hang’d for the horrible curse
Thou hast given me: I shall shortly grow one
Of the miracles of pity. I’ll go pray;—

| Exit Servant.

No, I’ll go curse.

Bosola

O, fie!

Duchess

I could curse the stars.

Bosola

O, fearful!

Duchess

And those three smiling seasons of the year
Into a Russian winter; nay, the world
To its first chaos.

Bosola

Look you, the stars shine still.

Duchess

O, but you must
Remember, my curse hath a great way to go.—
Plagues, that make lanes through largest families,
Consume them!—

Bosola

Fie, lady!

Duchess

Let them, like tyrants,
Never be remembered but for the ill they have done;
Let all the zealous prayers of mortified
Churchmen forget them!—

Bosola

O, uncharitable!

Duchess

Let heaven a little while cease crowning martyrs,
To punish them!—
Go, howl them this, and say, I long to bleed:
It is some mercy when men kill with speed.

| Exit.
| Reenter Ferdinand.

Ferdinand

Excellent, as I would wish; she’s plagu’d in art.89
These presentations are but fram’d in wax
By the curious master in that quality,90
Vincentio Lauriola, and she takes them
For true substantial bodies.

Bosola

Why do you do this?

Ferdinand

To bring her to despair.

Bosola

Faith, end here,
And go no farther in your cruelty:
Send her a penitential garment to put on
Next to her delicate skin, and furnish her
With beads and prayer-books.

Ferdinand

Damn her! that body of hers.
While that my blood run pure in’t, was more worth
Than that which thou wouldst comfort, call’d a soul.
I will send her masques of common courtesans,
Have her meat serv’d up by bawds and ruffians,
And, ’cause she’ll needs be mad, I am resolv’d
To move forth the common hospital
All the mad-folk, and place them near her lodging;
There let them practise together, sing and dance,
And act their gambols to the full o’ th’ moon:
If she can sleep the better for it, let her.
Your work is almost ended.

Bosola

Must I see her again?

Ferdinand

Yes.

Bosola

Never.

Ferdinand

You must.

Bosola

Never in mine own shape;
That’s forfeited by my intelligence91
And this last cruel lie: when you send me next,
The business shall be comfort.

Ferdinand

Very likely;
Thy pity is nothing of kin to thee, Antonio
Lurks about Milan: thou shalt shortly thither,
To feed a fire as great as my revenge,
Which nev’r will slack till it hath spent his fuel:
Intemperate agues make physicians cruel.

| Exeunt.

Scene
II

Another room in the lodging of the Duchess.

| Enter Duchess and Cariola.

Duchess

What hideous noise was that?

Cariola

’Tis the wild consort92
Of madmen, lady, which your tyrant brother
Hath plac’d about your lodging. This tyranny,
I think, was never practis’d till this hour.

Duchess

Indeed, I thank him. Nothing but noise and folly
Can keep me in my right wits; whereas reason
And silence make me stark mad. Sit down;
Discourse to me some dismal tragedy.

Cariola

O, ’twill increase your melancholy!

Duchess

Thou art deceiv’d:
To hear of greater grief would lessen mine.
This is a prison?

Cariola

Yes, but you shall live
To shake this durance off.

Duchess

Thou art a fool:
The robin-red-breast and the nightingale
Never live long in cages.

Cariola

Pray, dry your eyes.
What think you of, madam?

Duchess

Of nothing;
When I muse thus, I sleep.

Cariola

Like a madman, with your eyes open?

Duchess

Dost thou think we shall know one another
In th’ other world?

Cariola

Yes, out of question.

Duchess

O, that it were possible we might
But hold some two days’ conference with the dead!
From them I should learn somewhat, I am sure,
I never shall know here. I’ll tell thee a miracle:
I am not mad yet, to my cause of sorrow:
Th’ heaven o’er my head seems made of molten brass,
The earth of flaming sulphur, yet I am not mad.
I am acquainted with sad misery
As the tann’d galley-slave is with his oar;
Necessity makes me suffer constantly,
And custom makes it easy. Who do I look like now?

Cariola

Like to your picture in the gallery,
A deal of life in show, but none in practice;
Or rather like some reverend monument
Whose ruins are even pitied.

Duchess

Very proper;
And Fortune seems only to have her eyesight
To behold my tragedy.—How now!
What noise is that?

| Enter Servant.

Servant

I am come to tell you
Your brother hath intended you some sport.
A great physician, when the Pope was sick
Of a deep melancholy, presented him
With several sorts93 of madmen, which wild object
Being full of change and sport, forc’d him to laugh,
And so the imposthume94 broke: the selfsame cure
The duke intends on you.

Duchess

Let them come in.

Servant

There’s a mad lawyer; and a secular priest;
A doctor that hath forfeited his wits
By jealousy; an astrologian
That in his works said such a day o’ the month
Should be the day of doom, and, failing of’t,
Ran mad; an English tailor craz’d i’ the brain
With the study of new fashions; a gentleman-usher
Quite beside himself with care to keep in mind
The number of his lady’s salutations
Or “How do you,” she employ’d him in each morning;
A farmer, too, an excellent knave in grain,95
Mad ’cause he was hind’red transportation:96
And let one broker that’s mad loose to these,
You’d think the devil were among them.

Duchess

Sit, Cariola.—Let them loose when you please,
For I am chain’d to endure all your tyranny.

| Enter Madmen.

Here by a Madman this song is sung to a dismal kind of music.

O, let us howl some heavy note,
Some deadly dogged howl,
Sounding as from the threatening throat
Of beasts and fatal fowl!
As ravens, screech-owls, bulls, and bears,
We’ll bell, and bawl our parts,
Till irksome noise have cloy’d your ears
And corrosiv’d your hearts.
At last, whenas our choir wants breath,
Our bodies being blest,
We’ll sing, like swans, to welcome death,
And die in love and rest.

First Madman

Doom’s-day not come yet! I’ll draw it nearer by a perspective,97 or make a glass that shall set all the world on fire upon an instant. I cannot sleep; my pillow is stuffed with a litter of porcupines.

Second Madman

Hell is a mere glasshouse, where the devils are continually blowing up women’s souls on hollow irons, and the fire never goes out.

First Madman | I have skill in heraldry.
Second Madman | Hast?
First Madman | You do give for your crest a woodcock’s head with the brains picked out on’t; you are a very ancient gentleman.
Third Madman | Greek is turned Turk: we are only to be saved by the Helvetian translation.98
First Madman | Come on, sir, I will lay the law to you.
Second Madman | O, rather lay a corrosive: the law will eat to the bone.
Third Madman | He that drinks but to satisfy nature is damn’d.
Fourth Madman | If I had my glass here, I would show a sight should make all the women here call me mad doctor.
First Madman | What’s he? a rope-maker?
Second Madman | No, no, no, a snuffling knave that, while he shows the tombs, will have his hand in a wench’s placket.99

Third Madman

Woe to the caroche100 that brought home my wife from the masque at three o’clock in the morning! It had a large featherbed in it.

Fourth Madman | I have pared the devil’s nails forty times, roasted them in raven’s eggs, and cured agues with them.
Third Madman | Get me three hundred milch-bats, to make possets101 to procure sleep.
Fourth Madman | All the college may throw their caps at me: I have made a soap-boiler costive; it was my masterpiece.

Here the dance, consisting of Eight Madmen, with music answerable thereunto; after which, Bosala, like an old man, enters.

Duchess

Is he mad too?

Servant

Pray, question him. I’ll leave you.

| Exeunt Servant and Madmen.

Bosola

I am come to make thy tomb.

Duchess

Ha! my tomb!
Thou speak’st as if I lay upon my deathbed,
Gasping for breath. Dost thou perceive me sick?

Bosala

Yes, and the more dangerously, since thy sickness is insensible.

Duchess

Thou art not mad, sure: dost know me?

Bosola

Yes.

Duchess

Who am I?

Bosola

Thou art a box of wormseed, at best but a salvatory102 of green mummy.103 What’s this flesh? a little crudded104 milk, fantastical puff-paste. Our bodies are weaker than those paper-prisons boys use to keep flies in; more contemptible, since ours is to preserve earthworms. Didst thou ever see a lark in a cage? Such is the soul in the body: this world is like her little turf of grass, and the heaven o’er our heads like her looking-glass, only gives us a miserable knowledge of the small compass of our prison.

Duchess

Am not I thy duchess?

Bosola

Thou art some great woman, sure, for riot begins to sit on thy forehead (clad in gray hairs) twenty years sooner than on a merry milkmaid’s. Thou sleepest worse than if a mouse should be forced to take up her lodging in a cat’s ear: a little infant that breeds its teeth, should it lie with thee, would cry out, as if thou wert the more unquiet bedfellow.

Duchess

I am Duchess of Malfi still.

Bosola

That makes thy sleep so broken:
Glories, like glowworms, afar off shine bright,
But, look’d to near, have neither heat nor light.

Duchess | Thou art very plain.
Bosola | My trade is to flatter the dead, not the living; I am a tomb-maker.
Duchess | And thou comest to make my tomb?
Bosola | Yes.
Duchess | Let me be a little merry:—of what stuff wilt thou make it?
Bosola | Nay, resolve me first, of what fashion?
Duchess | Why, do we grow fantastical on our deathbed? Do we affect fashion in the grave?

Bosola

Most ambitiously. Princes’ images on their tombs do not lie, as they were wont, seeming to pray up to heaven; but with their hands under their cheeks, as if they died of the toothache. They are not carved with their eyes fix’d upon the stars, but as their minds were wholly bent upon the world, the selfsame way they seem to turn their faces.

Duchess

Let me know fully therefore the effect
Of this thy dismal preparation,
This talk fit for a charnel.

Bosola

Now I shall:—

| Enter Executioners, with a coffin, cords, and a bell.

Here is a present from your princely brothers;
And may it arrive welcome, for it brings
Last benefit, last sorrow.

Duchess

Let me see it:
I have so much obedience in my blood,
I wish it in their veins to do them good.

Bosola

This is your last presence-chamber.

Cariola

O my sweet lady!

Duchess

Peace; it affrights not me.

Bosola

I am the common bellman
That usually is sent to condemn’d persons
The night before they suffer.

Duchess

Even now thou said’st
Thou wast a tomb-maker.

Bosola

’Twas to bring you
By degrees to mortification. Listen.

Hark, now everything is still,
The screech-owl and the whistler shrill
Call upon our dame aloud,
And bid her quickly don her shroud!
Much you had of land and rent;
Your length in clay’s now competent:
A long war disturb’d your mind;
Here your perfect peace is sign’d.
Of what is’t fools make such vain keeping?
Sin their conception, their birth weeping,
Their life a general mist of error,
Their death a hideous storm of terror.
Strew your hair with powders sweet,
Don clean linen, bathe your feet,
And (the foul fiend more to check)
A crucifix let bless your neck.
’Tis now full tide ’tween night and day;
End your groan, and come away.

Cariola

Hence, villains, tyrants, murderers! Alas!
What will you do with my lady?—Call for help!

Duchess

To whom? To our next neighbours? They are mad-folks.

Bosola

Remove that noise.

Duchess

Farewell, Cariola.
In my last will I have not much to give:
A many hungry guests have fed upon me;
Thine will be a poor reversion.

Cariola

I will die with her.

Duchess

I pray thee, look thou giv’st my little boy
Some syrup for his cold, and let the girl
Say her prayers ere she sleep.

| Cariola is forced out by the Executioners.

Now what you please:
What death?

Bosola

Strangling; here are your executioners.

Duchess

I forgive them:
The apoplexy, catarrh, or cough o’ th’ lungs,
Would do as much as they do.

Bosola

Doth not death fright you?

Duchess

Who would be afraid on’t,
Knowing to meet such excellent company
In th’ other world?

Bosola

Yet, methinks,
The manner of your death should much afflict you:
This cord should terrify you.

Duchess

Not a whit:
What would it pleasure me to have my throat cut
With diamonds? or to be smothered
With cassia? or to be shot to death with pearls?
I know death hath ten thousand several doors
For men to take their exits; and ’tis found
They go on such strange geometrical hinges,
You may open them both ways: any way, for heaven-sake,
So I were out of your whispering. Tell my brothers
That I perceive death, now I am well awake,
Best gift is they can give or I can take.
I would fain put off my last woman’s-fault,
I’d not be tedious to you.

First Executioner

We are ready.

Duchess

Dispose my breath how please you; but my body
Bestow upon my women, will you?

First Executioner

Yes.

Duchess

Pull, and pull strongly, for your able strength
Must pull down heaven upon me:—
Yet stay; heaven-gates are not so highly arch’d
As princes’ palaces; they that enter there
Must go upon their knees. Kneels.—Come, violent death,
Serve for mandragora to make me sleep!—
Go tell my brothers, when I am laid out,
They then may feed in quiet.

| They strangle her.

Bosola

Where’s the waiting-woman?
Fetch her: some other strangle the children.

| Enter Cariola.

Look you, there sleeps your mistress.

Cariola

O, you are damn’d
Perpetually for this! My turn is next;
Is’t not so ordered?

Bosola

Yes, and I am glad
You are so well prepar’d for’t.

Cariola

You are deceiv’d, sir,
I am not prepar’d for’t, I will not die;
I will first come to my answer,105 and know
How I have offended.

Bosola

Come, despatch her.—
You kept her counsel; now you shall keep ours.

Cariola

I will not die, I must not; I am contracted
To a young gentleman.

First Executioner

Here’s your wedding-ring.

Cariola

Let me but speak with the duke. I’ll discover
Treason to his person.

Bosola

Delays:—throttle her.

First Executioner

She bites and scratches.

Cariola

If you kill me now,
I am damn’d; I have not been at confession
This two years.

Bosola

To Executioners. When?106

Cariola

I am quick with child.

Bosola

Why, then,
Your credit’s saved.

| Executioners strangle Cariola.

Bear her into the next room;
Let these lie still.

| Exeunt the Executioners with the body of Cariola.
| Enter Ferdinand.

Ferdinand

Is she dead?

Bosola

She is what
You’d have her. But here begin your pity:
Shows the Children strangled.
Alas, how have these offended?

Ferdinand

The death
Of young wolves is never to be pitied.

Bosola

Fix your eye here.

Ferdinand

Constantly.

Bosola

Do you not weep?
Other sins only speak; murder shrieks out.
The element of water moistens the earth,
But blood flies upwards and bedews the heavens.

Ferdinand

Cover her face; mine eyes dazzle: she died young.

Bosola

I think not so; her infelicity
Seem’d to have years too many.

Ferdinand

She and I were twins;
And should I die this instant, I had liv’d
Her time to a minute.

Bosola

It seems she was born first:
You have bloodily approv’d the ancient truth,
That kindred commonly do worse agree
Than remote strangers.

Ferdinand

Let me see her face
Again. Why didst thou not pity her? What
An excellent honest man mightst thou have been,
If thou hadst borne her to some sanctuary!
Or, bold in a good cause, oppos’d thyself,
With thy advanced sword above thy head,
Between her innocence and my revenge!
I bade thee, when I was distracted of my wits,
Go kill my dearest friend, and thou hast done’t.
For let me but examine well the cause:
What was the meanness of her match to me?
Only I must confess I had a hope,
Had she continu’d widow, to have gain’d
An infinite mass of treasure by her death:
And that was the main cause—her marriage,
That drew a stream of gall quite through my heart.
For thee, as we observe in tragedies
That a good actor many times is curs’d
For playing a villain’s part, I hate thee for’t,
And, for my sake, say, thou hast done much ill well.

Bosola

Let me quicken your memory, for I perceive
You are falling into ingratitude: I challenge
The reward due to my service.

Ferdinand

I’ll tell thee
What I’ll give thee.

Bosola

Do.

Ferdinand

I’ll give thee a pardon
For this murder.

Bosola

Ha!

Ferdinand

Yes, and ’tis
The largest bounty I can study to do thee.
By what authority didst thou execute
This bloody sentence?

Bosola

By yours.

Ferdinand

Mine! was I her judge?
Did any ceremonial form of law
Doom her to not-being? Did a complete jury
Deliver her conviction up i’ the court?
Where shalt thou find this judgment register’d,
Unless in hell? See, like a bloody fool,
Thou ’st forfeited thy life, and thou shalt die for’t.

Bosola

The office of justice is perverted quite
When one thief hangs another. Who shall dare
To reveal this?

Ferdinand

O, I’ll tell thee;
The wolf shall find her grave, and scrape it up,
Not to devour the corpse, but to discover
The horrid murder.

Bosola

You, not I, shall quake for’t.

Ferdinand

Leave me.

Bosola

I will first receive my pension.

Ferdinand

You are a villain.

Bosola

When your ingratitude
Is judge, I am so.

Ferdinand

O horror,
That not the fear of him which binds the devils
Can prescribe man obedience!—
Never look upon me more.

Bosola

Why, fare thee well.
Your brother and yourself are worthy men!
You have a pair of hearts are hollow graves,
Rotten, and rotting others; and your vengeance,
Like two chain’d-bullets, still goes arm in arm:
You may be brothers; for treason, like the plague,
Doth take much in a blood. I stand like one
That long hath ta’en a sweet and golden dream:
I am angry with myself, now that I wake.

Ferdinand

Get thee into some unknown part o’ the world,
That I may never see thee.

Bosola

Let me know
Wherefore I should be thus neglected. Sir,
I serv’d your tyranny, and rather strove
To satisfy yourself than all the world:
And though I loath’d the evil, yet I lov’d
You that did counsel it; and rather sought
To appear a true servant than an honest man.

Ferdinand

I’ll go hunt the badger by owl-light:
’Tis a deed of darkness.

| Exit.

Bosola

He’s much distracted. Off, my painted honour!
While with vain hopes our faculties we tire,
We seem to sweat in ice and freeze in fire.
What would I do, were this to do again?
I would not change my peace of conscience
For all the wealth of Europe.—She stirs; here’s life:—
Return, fair soul, from darkness, and lead mine
Out of this sensible hell:—she’s warm, she breathes:—
Upon thy pale lips I will melt my heart,
To store them with fresh colour.—Who’s there?
Some cordial drink!—Alas! I dare not call:
So pity would destroy pity.—Her eye opes,
And heaven in it seems to ope, that late was shut,
To take me up to mercy.

Duchess

Antonio!

Bosola

Yes, madam, he is living;
The dead bodies you saw were but feign’d statues.
He’s reconcil’d to your brothers; the Pope hath wrought
The atonement.

Duchess

Mercy! Dies.

Bosola

O, she’s gone again! there the cords of life broke.
O sacred innocence, that sweetly sleeps
On turtles’ feathers, whilst a guilty conscience
Is a black register wherein is writ
All our good deeds and bad, a perspective
That shows us hell! That we cannot be suffer’d
To do good when we have a mind to it!
This is manly sorrow;
These tears, I am very certain, never grew
In my mother’s milk. My estate is sunk
Below the degree of fear: where were
These penitent fountains while she was living?
O, they were frozen up! Here is a sight
As direful to my soul as is the sword
Unto a wretch hath slain his father.
Come, I’ll bear thee hence,
And execute thy last will; that’s deliver
Thy body to the reverend dispose
Of some good women: that the cruel tyrant
Shall not deny me. Then I’ll post to Milan,
Where somewhat I will speedily enact
Worth my dejection.

| Exit with the body.

Act
V

Scene
I

Milan. A public place.

| Enter Antonio and Delio.

Antonio

What think you of my hope of reconcilement
To the Arragonian brethren?

Delio

I misdoubt it;
For though they have sent their letters of safe-conduct
For your repair to Milan, they appear
But nets to entrap you. The Marquis of Pescara,
Under whom you hold certain land in cheat,107
Much ’gainst his noble nature hath been mov’d
To seize those lands; and some of his dependants
Are at this instant making it their suit
To be invested in your revenues.
I cannot think they mean well to your life
That do deprive you of your means of life,
Your living.

Antonio

You are still an heretic108
To any safety I can shape myself.

Delio

Here comes the marquis: I will make myself
Petitioner for some part of your land,
To know whither it is flying.

Antonio

I pray, do.

| Withdraws.
| Enter Pescara.

Delio

Sir, I have a suit to you.

Pescara

To me?

Delio

An easy one:
There is the Citadel of Saint Bennet,
With some demesnes, of late in the possession
Of Antonio Bologna—please you bestow them on me.

Pescara

You are my friend; but this is such a suit,
Nor fit for me to give, nor you to take.

Delio

No, sir?

Pescara

I will give you ample reason for’t
Soon in private:—here’s the cardinal’s mistress.

| Enter Julia.

Julia

My lord, I am grown your poor petitioner,
And should be an ill beggar, had I not
A great man’s letter here, the cardinal’s,
To court you in my favour. Gives a letter.

Pescara

He entreats for you
The Citadel of Saint Bennet, that belong’d
To the banish’d Bologna.

Julia

Yes.

Pescara

I could not have thought of a friend I could rather
Pleasure with it: ’tis yours.

Julia

Sir, I thank you;
And he shall know how doubly I am engag’d
Both in your gift, and speediness of giving
Which makes your grant the greater.

| Exit.

Antonio

How they fortify
Themselves with my ruin!

Delio

Sir, I am
Little bound to you.

Pescara

Why?

Delio

Because you deni’d this suit to me, and gave’t
To such a creature.

Pescara

Do you know what it was?
It was Antonio’s land; not forfeited
By course of law, but ravish’d from his throat
By the cardinal’s entreaty. It were not fit
I should bestow so main a piece of wrong
Upon my friend; ’tis a gratification
Only due to a strumpet, for it is injustice.
Shall I sprinkle the pure blood of innocents
To make those followers I call my friends
Look ruddier upon me? I am glad
This land, ta’en from the owner by such wrong,
Returns again unto so foul an use
As salary for his lust. Learn, good Delio,
To ask noble things of me, and you shall find
I’ll be a noble giver.

Delio

You instruct me well.

Antonio

Why, here’s a man now would fright impudence
From sauciest beggars.

Pescara

Prince Ferdinand’s come to Milan,
Sick, as they give out, of an apoplexy;
But some say ’tis a frenzy: I am going
To visit him.

| Exit.

Antonio

’Tis a noble old fellow.

Delio

What course do you mean to take, Antonio?

Antonio

This night I mean to venture all my fortune,
Which is no more than a poor ling’ring life,
To the cardinal’s worst of malice. I have got
Private access to his chamber; and intend
To visit him about the mid of night,
As once his brother did our noble duchess.
It may be that the sudden apprehension
Of danger—for I’ll go in mine own shape—
When he shall see it fraight109 with love and duty,
May draw the poison out of him, and work
A friendly reconcilement. If it fail,
Yet it shall rid me of this infamous calling;
For better fall once than be ever falling.

Delio

I’ll second you in all danger; and howe’er,
My life keeps rank with yours.

Antonio

You are still my lov’d and best friend.

| Exeunt.

Scene
II

A gallery in the residence of the Cardinal and Ferdinand.

| Enter Pescara and Doctor.

Pescara

Now, doctor, may I visit your patient?

Doctor

If’t please your lordship; but he’s instantly
To take the air here in the gallery
By my direction.

Pescara

Pray thee, what’s his disease?

Doctor

A very pestilent disease, my lord,
They call lycanthropia.

Pescara

What’s that?
I need a dictionary to’t.

Doctor

I’ll tell you.
In those that are possess’d with’t there o’erflows
Such melancholy humour they imagine
Themselves to be transformed into wolves;
Steal forth to churchyards in the dead of night,
And dig dead bodies up: as two nights since
One met the duke ’bout midnight in a lane
Behind Saint Mark’s church, with the leg of a man
Upon his shoulder; and he howl’d fearfully;
Said he was a wolf, only the difference
Was, a wolf’s skin was hairy on the outside,
His on the inside; bade them take their swords,
Rip up his flesh, and try. Straight I was sent for,
And, having minister’d to him, found his grace
Very well recover’d.

Pescara

I am glad on’t.

Doctor

Yet not without some fear
Of a relapse. If he grow to his fit again,
I’ll go a nearer way to work with him
Than ever Paracelsus dream’d of; if
They’ll give me leave, I’ll buffet his madness out of him.
Stand aside; he comes.

| Enter Ferdinand, Cardinal, Malatesti, and Bosala.
Ferdinand | Leave me.
Malatesti | Why doth your lordship love this solitariness?
Ferdinand | Eagles commonly fly alone: they are crows, daws, and starlings that flock together. Look, what’s that follows me?
Malatesti | Nothing, my lord.
Ferdinand | Yes.
Malatesti | ’Tis your shadow.
Ferdinand | Stay it; let it not haunt me.
Malatesti | Impossible, if you move, and the sun shine.
Ferdinand | I will throttle it. Throws himself down on his shadow.
Malatesti | O, my lord, you are angry with nothing.

Ferdinand

You are a fool: how is’t possible I should catch my shadow, unless I fall upon’t? When I go to hell, I mean to carry a bribe; for, look you, good gifts evermore make way for the worst persons.

Pescara | Rise, good my lord.
Ferdinand | I am studying the art of patience.
Pescara | ’Tis a noble virtue.

Ferdinand

To drive six snails before me from this town to Moscow; neither use goad nor whip to them, but let them take their own time;—the patient’st man i’ th’ world match me for an experiment:—an I’ll crawl after like a sheep-biter.110

Cardinal | Force him up.
| They raise him.
Ferdinand | Use me well, you were best. What I have done, I have done: I’ll confess nothing.

Doctor

Now let me come to him.—Are you mad, my lord?

Are you out of your princely wits?

Ferdinand

What’s he?

Pescara

Your doctor.

Ferdinand | Let me have his beard saw’d off, and his eyebrows fil’d more civil.

Doctor

I must do mad tricks with him, for that’s the only way on’t.—I have brought your grace a salamander’s skin to keep you from sunburning.

Ferdinand | I have cruel sore eyes.
Doctor | The white of a cockatrix’s111 egg is present remedy.
Ferdinand | Let it be a new-laid one, you were best. Hide me from him: physicians are like kings—They brook no contradiction.
Doctor | Now he begins to fear me: now let me alone with him.
Cardinal | How now! put off your gown!

Doctor

Let me have some forty urinals filled with rosewater: he and I’ll go pelt one another with them.—Now he begins to fear me.—Can you fetch a frisk,112 sir?—Let him go, let him go, upon my peril: I find by his eye he stands in awe of me; I’ll make him as tame as a dormouse.

Ferdinand

Can you fetch your frisks, sir!—I will stamp him into a cullis,113 flay off his skin to cover one of the anatomies114 this rogue hath set i’ th’ cold yonder in Barber-Chirurgeon’s-hall. —Hence, hence! you are all of you like beasts for sacrifice. Throws the Doctor down and beats him. There’s nothing left of you but tongue and belly, flattery and lechery.

| Exit.

Pescara

Doctor, he did not fear you thoroughly.

Doctor

True; I was somewhat too forward.

Bosola

Mercy upon me, what a fatal judgment
Hath fall’n upon this Ferdinand!

Pescara

Knows your grace
What accident hath brought unto the prince
This strange distraction?

Cardinal

Aside. I must feign somewhat.—Thus they say it grew.
You have heard it rumour’d, for these many years
None of our family dies but there is seen
The shape of an old woman, which is given
By tradition to us to have been murder’d
By her nephews for her riches. Such a figure
One night, as the prince sat up late at’s book,
Appear’d to him; when crying out for help,
The gentleman of’s chamber found his grace
All on a cold sweat, alter’d much in face
And language: since which apparition,
He hath grown worse and worse, and I much fear
He cannot live.

Bosola

Sir, I would speak with you.

Pescara

We’ll leave your grace,
Wishing to the sick prince, our noble lord,
All health of mind and body.

Cardinal

You are most welcome.

| Exeunt Pescara, Malatesti, and Doctor.

Are you come? so.—Aside. This fellow must not know
By any means I had intelligence
In our duchess’ death; for, though I counsell’d it,
The full of all th’ engagement seem’d to grow
From Ferdinand.—Now, sir, how fares our sister?
I do not think but sorrow makes her look
Like to an oft-dy’d garment: she shall now
Take comfort from me. Why do you look so wildly?
O, the fortune of your master here the prince
Dejects you; but be you of happy comfort:
If you’ll do one thing for me I’ll entreat,
Though he had a cold tombstone o’er his bones,
I’d make you what you would be.

Bosola

Anything;
Give it me in a breath, and let me fly to’t.
They that think long small expedition win,
For musing much o’ th’ end cannot begin.

| Enter Julia.

Julia

Sir, will you come into supper?

Cardinal

I am busy; leave me.

Julia

Aside. What an excellent shape hath that fellow!

| Exit.

Cardinal

’Tis thus. Antonio lurks here in Milan:
Inquire him out, and kill him. While he lives,
Our sister cannot marry; and I have thought
Of an excellent match for her. Do this, and style me
Thy advancement.

Bosola

But by what means shall I find him out?

Cardinal

There is a gentleman call’d Delio
Here in the camp, that hath been long approv’d
His loyal friend. Set eye upon that fellow;
Follow him to mass; may be Antonio,
Although he do account religion
But a school-name, for fashion of the world
May accompany him; or else go inquire out
Delio’s confessor, and see if you can bribe
Him to reveal it. There are a thousand ways
A man might find to trace him; as to know
What fellows haunt the Jews for taking up
Great sums of money, for sure he’s in want;
Or else to go to the picture-makers, and learn
Who bought115 her picture lately: some of these
Happily may take.

Bosola

Well, I’ll not freeze i’ th’ business:
I would see that wretched thing, Antonio,
Above all sights i’ th’ world.

Cardinal

Do, and be happy.

| Exit.

Bosola

This fellow doth breed basilisks in’s eyes,
He’s nothing else but murder; yet he seems
Not to have notice of the duchess’ death.
’Tis his cunning: I must follow his example;
There cannot be a surer way to trace
Than that of an old fox.

| Reenter Julia, with a pistol.

Julia

So, sir, you are well met.

Bosola

How Now!

Julia

Nay, the doors are fast enough:
Now, sir, I will make you confess your treachery.

Bosola

Treachery!

Julia

Yes, confess to me
Which of my women ’twas you hir’d to put
Love-powder into my drink?

Bosola

Love-powder!

Julia

Yes, when I was at Malfi.
Why should I fall in love with such a face else?
I have already suffer’d for thee so much pain,
The only remedy to do me good
Is to kill my longing.

Bosola

Sure, your pistol holds
Nothing but perfumes or kissing-comfits.116
Excellent lady!
You have a pretty way on’t to discover
Your longing. Come, come, I’ll disarm you,
And arm you thus: yet this is wondrous strange.

Julia

Compare thy form and my eyes together,
You’ll find my love no such great miracle.
Now you’ll say
I am wanton: this nice modesty in ladies
Is but a troublesome familiar
That haunts them.

Bosola

Know you me, I am a blunt soldier.

Julia

The better:
Sure, there wants fire where there are no lively sparks
Of roughness.

Bosola

And I want compliment.

Julia

Why, ignorance
In courtship cannot make you do amiss,
If you have a heart to do well.

Bosola

You are very fair.

Julia

Nay, if you lay beauty to my charge,
I must plead unguilty.

Bosola

Your bright eyes
Carry a quiver of darts in them sharper
Than sunbeams.

Julia

You will mar me with commendation,
Put yourself to the charge of courting me,
Whereas now I woo you.

Bosola

Aside. I have it, I will work upon this creature.—
Let us grow most amorously familiar:
If the great cardinal now should see me thus,
Would he not count me a villain?

Julia

No; he might count me a wanton,
Not lay a scruple of offence on you;
For if I see and steal a diamond,
The fault is not i’ th’ stone, but in me the thief
That purloins it. I am sudden with you.
We that are great women of pleasure use to cut off
These uncertain wishes and unquiet longings,
And in an instant join the sweet delight
And the pretty excuse together. Had you been i’ th’ street,
Under my chamber-window, even there
I should have courted you.

Bosola

O, you are an excellent lady!

Julia

Bid me do somewhat for you presently
To express I love you.

Bosola

I will; and if you love me,
Fail not to effect it.
The cardinal is grown wondrous melancholy;
Demand the cause, let him not put you off
With feign’d excuse; discover the main ground on’t.

Julia

Why would you know this?

Bosola

I have depended on him,
And I hear that he is fall’n in some disgrace
With the emperor: if he be, like the mice
That forsake falling houses, I would shift
To other dependance.

Julia

You shall not need
Follow the wars: I’ll be your maintenance.

Bosola

And I your loyal servant: but I cannot
Leave my calling.

Julia

Not leave an ungrateful
General for the love of a sweet lady!
You are like some cannot sleep in featherbeds,
But must have blocks for their pillows.

Bosola

Will you do this?

Julia

Cunningly.

Bosola

Tomorrow I’ll expect th’ intelligence.

Julia

Tomorrow! get you into my cabinet;
You shall have it with you. Do not delay me,
No more than I do you: I am like one
That is condemn’d; I have my pardon promis’d,
But I would see it seal’d. Go, get you in:
You shall see my wind my tongue about his heart
Like a skein of silk.

| Exit Bosala.
| Reenter Cardinal.

Cardinal

Where are you?

| Enter Servants.

Servants

Here.

Cardinal

Let none, upon your lives, have conference
With the Prince Ferdinand, unless I know it.—
Aside. In this distraction he may reveal
The murder.

| Exeunt Servants.

Yond’s my lingering consumption:
I am weary of her, and by any means
Would be quit of.

Julia

How now, my lord! what ails you?

Cardinal

Nothing.

Julia

O, you are much alter’d:
Come, I must be your secretary, and remove
This lead from off your bosom: what’s the matter?

Cardinal

I may not tell you.

Julia

Are you so far in love with sorrow
You cannot part with part of it? Or think you
I cannot love your grace when you are sad
As well as merry? Or do you suspect
I, that have been a secret to your heart
These many winters, cannot be the same
Unto your tongue?

Cardinal

Satisfy thy longing—
The only way to make thee keep my counsel
Is, not to tell thee.

Julia

Tell your echo this,
Or flatterers, that like echoes still report
What they hear though most imperfect, and not me;
For if that you be true unto yourself,
I’ll know.

Cardinal

Will you rack me?

Julia

No, judgment shall
Draw it from you: it is an equal fault,
To tell one’s secrets unto all or none.

Cardinal

The first argues folly.

Julia

But the last tyranny.

Cardinal

Very well: why, imagine I have committed
Some secret deed which I desire the world
May never hear of.

Julia

Therefore may not I know it?
You have conceal’d for me as great a sin
As adultery. Sir, never was occasion
For perfect trial of my constancy
Till now: sir, I beseech you—

Cardinal

You’ll repent it.

Julia

Never.

Cardinal

It hurries thee to ruin: I’ll not tell thee.
Be well advis’d, and think what danger ’tis
To receive a prince’s secrets. They that do,
Had need have their breasts hoop’d with adamant
To contain them. I pray thee, yet be satisfi’d;
Examine thine own frailty; ’tis more easy
To tie knots than unloose them. ’Tis a secret
That, like a ling’ring poison, may chance lie
Spread in thy veins, and kill thee seven year hence.

Julia

Now you dally with me.

Cardinal

No more; thou shalt know it.
By my appointment the great Duchess of Malfi
And two of her young children, four nights since,
Were strangl’d.

Julia

O heaven! sir, what have you done!

Cardinal

How now? How settles this? Think you your bosom
Will be a grave dark and obscure enough
For such a secret?

Julia

You have undone yourself, sir.

Cardinal

Why?

Julia

It lies not in me to conceal it.

Cardinal

No?
Come, I will swear you to’t upon this book.

Julia

Most religiously.

Cardinal

Kiss it. She kisses the book.

Now you shall never utter it; thy curiosity
Hath undone thee; thou ’rt poison’d with that book.
Because I knew thou couldst not keep my counsel,
I have bound thee to’t by death.

| Reenter Bosala.

Bosola

For pity-sake, hold!

Cardinal

Ha, Bosola!

Julia

I forgive you
This equal piece of justice you have done;
For I betray’d your counsel to that fellow.
He overheard it; that was the cause I said
It lay not in me to conceal it.

Bosola

O foolish woman,
Couldst not thou have poison’d him?

Julia

’Tis weakness,
Too much to think what should have been done. I go,
I know not whither. Dies.

Cardinal

Wherefore com’st thou hither?

Bosola

That I might find a great man like yourself,
Not out of his wits, as the Lord Ferdinand,
To remember my service.

Cardinal

I’ll have thee hew’d in pieces.

Bosola

Make not yourself such a promise of that life
Which is not yours to dispose of.

Cardinal

Who plac’d thee here?

Bosola

Her lust, as she intended.

Cardinal

Very well:
Now you know me for your fellow-murderer.

Bosola

And wherefore should you lay fair marble colours
Upon your rotten purposes to me?
Unless you imitate some that do plot great treasons,
And when they have done, go hide themselves i’ th’ grave
Of those were actors in’t?

Cardinal

No more; there is
A fortune attends thee.

Bosola

Shall I go sue to Fortune any longer?
’Tis the fool’s pilgrimage.

Cardinal

I have honours in store for thee.

Bosola

There are a many ways that conduct to seeming
Honour, and some of them very dirty ones.

Cardinal

Throw to the devil
Thy melancholy. The fire burns well;
What need we keep a stirring of’t, and make
A greater smother?117 Thou wilt kill Antonio?

Bosola

Yes.

Cardinal

Take up that body.

Bosola

I think I shall
Shortly grow the common bier for churchyards.

Cardinal

I will allow thee some dozen of attendants
To aid thee in the murder.

Bosola

O, by no means. Physicians that apply horseleeches to any rank swelling use to cut off their tails, that the blood may run through them the faster: let me have no train when I go to shed blood, less it make me have a greater when I ride to the gallows.

Cardinal

Come to me after midnight, to help to remove
That body to her own lodging. I’ll give out
She died o’ th’ plague; ’twill breed the less inquiry
After her death.

Bosola

Where’s Castruccio her husband?

Cardinal

He’s rode to Naples, to take possession
Of Antonio’s citadel.

Bosola

Believe me, you have done a very happy turn.

Cardinal

Fail not to come. There is the master-key
Of our lodgings; and by that you may conceive
What trust I plant in you.

Bosola

You shall find me ready.

| Exit Cardinal.

O poor Antonio, though nothing be so needful
To thy estate as pity, yet I find
Nothing so dangerous! I must look to my footing:
In such slippery ice-pavements men had need
To be frost-nail’d well, they may break their necks else;
The precedent’s here afore me. How this man
Bears up in blood! seems fearless! Why, ’tis well;
Security some men call the suburbs of hell,
Only a dead wall between. Well, good Antonio,
I’ll seek thee out; and all my care shall be
To put thee into safety from the reach
Of these most cruel biters that have got
Some of thy blood already. It may be,
I’ll join with thee in a most just revenge.
The weakest arm is strong enough that strikes
With the sword of justice. Still methinks the duchess
Haunts me: there, there!—’Tis nothing but my melancholy.
O Penitence, let me truly taste thy cup,
That throws men down only to raise them up!

| Exit.

Scene
III

A fortification.

| Enter Antonio and Delio. Echo from the Duchess’s grave.

Delio

Yond’s the cardinal’s window. This fortification
Grew from the ruins of an ancient abbey;
And to yond side o’ th’ river lies a wall,
Piece of a cloister, which in my opinion
Gives the best echo that you ever heard,
So hollow and so dismal, and withal
So plain in the distinction of our words,
That many have suppos’d it is a spirit
That answers.

Antonio

I do love these ancient ruins.
We never tread upon them but we set
Our foot upon some reverend history;
And, questionless, here in this open court,
Which now lies naked to the injuries
Of stormy weather, some men lie interr’d
Lov’d the church so well, and gave so largely to’t,
They thought it should have canopied their bones
Till doomsday. But all things have their end;
Churches and cities, which have diseases like to men,
Must have like death that we have.

Echo

Like death that we have.

Delio

Now the echo hath caught you.

Antonio

It groan’d methought, and gave
A very deadly accent.

Echo

Deadly accent.

Delio

I told you ’twas a pretty one. You may make it
A huntsman, or a falconer, a musician,
Or a thing of sorrow.

Echo

A thing of sorrow.

Antonio

Ay, sure, that suits it best.

Echo

That suits it best.

Antonio

’Tis very like my wife’s voice.

Echo

Ay, wife’s voice.

Delio

Come, let us walk further from ’t.
I would not have you go to the cardinal’s tonight:
Do not.

Echo

Do not.

Delio

Wisdom doth not more moderate wasting sorrow
Than time. Take time for’t; be mindful of thy safety.

Echo

Be mindful of thy safety.

Antonio

Necessity compels me.
Make scrutiny through the passages
Of your own life, you’ll find it impossible
To fly your fate.

Echo

O, fly your fate!

Delio

Hark! the dead stones seem to have pity on you,
And give you good counsel.

Antonio

Echo, I will not talk with thee,
For thou art a dead thing.

Echo

Thou art a dead thing.

Antonio

My duchess is asleep now,
And her little ones, I hope sweetly. O heaven,
Shall I never see her more?

Echo

Never see her more.

Antonio

I mark’d not one repetition of the echo
But that; and on the sudden a clear light
Presented me a face folded in sorrow.

Delio

Your fancy merely.

Antonio

Come, I’ll be out of this ague,
For to live thus is not indeed to live;
It is a mockery and abuse of life.
I will not henceforth save myself by halves;
Lose all, or nothing.

Delio

Your own virtue save you!
I’ll fetch your eldest son, and second you.
It may be that the sight of his own blood
Spread in so sweet a figure may beget
The more compassion. However, fare you well.
Though in our miseries Fortune have a part,
Yet in our noble sufferings she hath none.
Contempt of pain, that we may call our own.

| Exeunt.

Scene
IV

Milan. An apartment in the residence of the Cardinal and Ferdinand.

| Enter Cardinal, Pescara, Malatesti, Roderigo, and Grisolan.

Cardinal

You shall not watch tonight by the sick prince;
His grace is very well recover’d.

Malatesti

Good my lord, suffer us.

Cardinal

O, by no means;
The noise, and change of object in his eye,
Doth more distract him. I pray, all to bed;
And though you hear him in his violent fit,
Do not rise, I entreat you.

Pescara

So, sir; we shall not.

Cardinal

Nay, I must have you promise
Upon your honours, for I was enjoin’d to’t
By himself; and he seem’d to urge it sensibly.

Pescara

Let our honours bind this trifle.

Cardinal

Nor any of your followers.

Malatesti

Neither.

Cardinal

It may be, to make trial of your promise,
When he’s asleep, myself will rise and feign
Some of his mad tricks, and cry out for help,
And feign myself in danger.

Malatesti

If your throat were cutting,
I’d not come at you, now I have protested against it.

Cardinal

Why, I thank you.

Grisolan

’Twas a foul storm tonight.

Roderigo

The Lord Ferdinand’s chamber shook like an osier.

Malatesti

’Twas nothing put pure kindness in the devil
To rock his own child.

| Exeunt all except the Cardinal.

Cardinal

The reason why I would not suffer these
About my brother, is, because at midnight
I may with better privacy convey
Julia’s body to her own lodging. O, my conscience!
I would pray now; but the devil takes away my heart
For having any confidence in prayer.
About this hour I appointed Bosola
To fetch the body. When he hath serv’d my turn,
He dies.

| Exit.
| Enter Bosala.

Bosola

Ha! ’twas the cardinal’s voice; I heard him name
Bosola and my death. Listen; I hear one’s footing.

| Enter Ferdinand.

Ferdinand

Strangling is a very quiet death.

Bosola

Aside. Nay, then, I see I must stand upon my guard.

Ferdinand

What say to that? Whisper softly: do you agree to’t? So; it must be done i’ th’ dark; the cardinal would not for a thousand pounds the doctor should see it.

| Exit.

Bosola

My death is plotted; here’s the consequence of murder.
We value not desert nor Christian breath,
When we know black deeds must be cur’d with death.

| Enter Antonio and Servant.

Servant

Here stay, sir, and be confident, I pray;
I’ll fetch you a dark lantern.

| Exit.

Antonio

Could I take him at his prayers,
There were hope of pardon.

Bosola

Fall right, my sword!—Stabs him.
I’ll not give thee so much leisure as to pray.

Antonio

O, I am gone! Thou hast ended a long suit
In a minute.

Bosola

What art thou?

Antonio

A most wretched thing,
That only have thy benefit in death,
To appear myself.

| Reenter Servant with a lantern.

Servant

Where are you, sir?

Antonio

Very near my home.—Bosola!

Servant

O, misfortune!

Bosola

Smother thy pity, thou art dead else.—Antonio!
The man I would have sav’d ’bove mine own life!
We are merely the stars’ tennis-balls, struck and banded
Which way please them.—O good Antonio,
I’ll whisper one thing in thy dying ear
Shall make thy heart break quickly! Thy fair duchess
And two sweet children—

Antonio

Their very names
Kindle a little life in me.

Bosola

Are murder’d.

Antonio

Some men have wish’d to die
At the hearing of sad tidings; I am glad
That I shall do’t in sadness.118 I would not now
Wish my wounds balm’d nor heal’d, for I have no use
To put my life to. In all our quest of greatness,
Like wanton boys whose pastime is their care,
We follow after bubbles blown in th’ air.
Pleasure of life, what is’t? Only the good hours
Of an ague; merely a preparative to rest,
To endure vexation. I do not ask
The process of my death; only commend me
To Delio.

Bosola

Break, heart!

Antonio

And let my son fly the courts to princes. Dies.

Bosola

Thou seem’st to have lov’d Antonio.

Servant

I brought him hither,
To have reconcil’d him to the cardinal.

Bosola

I do not ask thee that.
Take him up, if thou tender thine own life,
And bear him where the lady Julia
Was wont to lodge.—O, my fate moves swift!
I have this cardinal in the forge already;
Now I’ll bring him to th’ hammer. O direful misprision!119
I will not imitate things glorious.
No more than base; I’ll be mine own example.—
On, on, and look thou represent, for silence,
The thing thou bear’st.120

| Exeunt.

Scene
V

Another apartment in the same.

| Enter Cardinal, with a book.

Cardinal

I am puzzl’d in a question about hell;
He says, in hell there’s one material fire,
And yet it shall not burn all men alike.
Lay him by. How tedious is a guilty conscience!
When I look into the fishponds in my garden,
Methinks I see a thing arm’d with a rake,
That seems to strike at me.

| Enter Bosala, and Servant bearing Antonio’s body.

Now, art thou come?
Thou look’st ghastly;
There sits in thy face some great determination
Mix’d with some fear.

Bosola

Thus it lightens into action:
I am come to kill thee.

Cardinal

Ha!—Help! our guard!

Bosola

Thou art deceiv’d; they are out of thy howling.

Cardinal

Hold; and I will faithfully divide
Revenues with thee.

Bosola

Thy prayers and proffers
Are both unseasonable.

Cardinal

Raise the watch!
We are betray’d!

Bosola

I have confin’d your flight:
I’ll suffer your retreat to Julia’s chamber,
But no further.

Cardinal

Help! we are betray’d!

| Enter, above, Pescara, Malatesti, Roderigo, and Grisolan.

Malatesti

Listen.

Cardinal

My dukedom for rescue!

Roderigo

Fie upon his counterfeiting!

Malatesti

Why, ’tis not the cardinal.

Roderigo

Yes, yes, ’tis he:
But, I’ll see him hang’d ere I’ll go down to him.

Cardinal

Here’s a plot upon me; I am assaulted! I am lost,
Unless some rescue!

Grisolan

He doth this pretty well;
But it will not serve to laugh me out of mine honour.

Cardinal

The sword’s at my throat!

Roderigo

You would not bawl so loud then.

Malatesti

Come, come, let’s go to bed: he told us this much aforehand.

Pescara

He wish’d you should not come at him; but, believe’t,
The accent of the voice sounds not in jest:
I’ll down to him, howsoever, and with engines
Force ope the doors.

| Exit above.

Roderigo

Let’s follow him aloof,
And note how the cardinal will laugh at him.

| Exeunt, above, Malatesti, Roderigo, and Grisolan.

Bosola

There’s for you first,
’Cause you shall not unbarricade the door
To let in rescue. Kills the Servant.

Cardinal

What cause hast thou to pursue my life?

Bosola

Look there.

Cardinal

Antonio!

Bosola

Slain by my hand unwittingly.
Pray, and be sudden. When thou kill’d’st thy sister,
Thou took’st from Justice her most equal balance,
And left her naught but her sword.

Cardinal

O, mercy!

Bosola

Now it seems thy greatness was only outward;
For thou fall’st faster of thyself than calamity
Can drive thee. I’ll not waste longer time; there! Stabs him.

Cardinal

Thou hast hurt me.

Bosola

Again!

Cardinal

Shall I die like a leveret,
Without any resistance?—Help, help, help!
I am slain!

| Enter Ferdinand.

Ferdinand

Th’ alarm! Give me a fresh horse;
Rally the vaunt-guard, or the day is lost,
Yield, yield! I give you the honour of arms
Shake my sword over you; will you yield?

Cardinal

Help me; I am your brother!

Ferdinand

The devil!
My brother fight upon the adverse party!

| He wounds the Cardinal, and, in the scuffle, gives Bosala his death-wound.

There flies your ransom.

Cardinal

O justice!
I suffer now for what hath former bin:
Sorrow is held the eldest child of sin.

Ferdinand

Now you’re brave fellows. Caesar’s fortune was harder than Pompey’s; Caesar died in the arms of prosperity, Pompey at the feet of disgrace. You both died in the field. The pain’s nothing; pain many times is taken away with the apprehension of greater, as the toothache with the sight of a barber that comes to pull it out. There’s philosophy for you.

Bosola

Now my revenge is perfect.—Sink, thou main cause Kills Ferdinand.
Of my undoing!—The last part of my life
Hath done me best service.

Ferdinand

Give me some wet hay; I am broken-winded.
I do account this world but a dog-kennel:
I will vault credit and affect high pleasures
Beyond death.

Bosola

He seems to come to himself,
Now he’s so near the bottom.

Ferdinand

My sister, O my sister! there’s the cause on’t.
Whether we fall by ambition, blood, or lust,
Like diamonds, we are cut with our own dust. Dies.

Cardinal

Thou hast thy payment too.

Bosola

Yes, I hold my weary soul in my teeth;
’Tis ready to part from me. I do glory
That thou, which stood’st like a huge pyramid
Begun upon a large and ample base,
Shalt end in a little point, a kind of nothing.

| Enter, below, Pescara, Malatesti, Roderigo, and Grisolan.

Pescara

How now, my lord!

Malatesti

O sad disaster!

Roderigo

How comes this?

Bosola

Revenge for the Duchess of Malfi murdered
By the Arragonian brethren; for Antonio
Slain by this hand; for lustful Julia
Poison’d by this man; and lastly for myself,
That was an actor in the main of all
Much ’gainst mine own good nature, yet i’ the end
Neglected.

Pescara

How now, my lord!

Cardinal

Look to my brother:
He gave us these large wounds, as we were struggling
Here i’ th’ rushes. And now, I pray, let me
Be laid by and never thought of. Dies.

Pescara

How fatally, it seems, he did withstand
His own rescue!

Malatesti

Thou wretched thing of blood,
How came Antonio by his death?

Bosola

In a mist; I know not how:
Such a mistake as I have often seen
In a play. O, I am gone!
We are only like dead walls or vaulted graves,
That, ruin’d, yield no echo. Fare you well.
It may be pain, but no harm, to me to die
In so good a quarrel. O, this gloomy world!
In what a shadow, or deep pit of darkness,
Doth womanish and fearful mankind live!
Let worthy minds ne’er stagger in distrust
To suffer death or shame for what is just:
Mine is another voyage. Dies.

Pescara

The noble Delio, as I came to th’ palace,
Told me of Antonio’s being here, and show’d me
A pretty gentleman, his son and heir.

| Enter Delio, and Antonio’s Son.

Malatesti

O sir, you come too late!

Delio

I heard so, and
Was arm’d for’t, ere I came. Let us make noble use
Of this great ruin; and join all our force
To establish this young hopeful gentleman
In’s mother’s right. These wretched eminent things
Leave no more fame behind ’em, than should one
Fall in a frost, and leave his print in snow;
As soon as the sun shines, it ever melts,
Both form and matter. I have ever thought
Nature doth nothing so great for great men
As when she’s pleas’d to make them lords of truth:
Integrity of life is fame’s best friend,
Which nobly, beyond death, shall crown the end.

| Exeunt.

Endnotes

1. The twelfth Lord Berkeley. “My good lord,” says Massinger, inscribing The Renegado to him, “to be honoured for old nobility or hereditary titles, is not alone proper to yourself, but to some few of your rank, who may challenge the like privilege with you: but in our age to vouchsafe (as you have often done) a ready hand to raise the dejected spirits of the contemned sons of the Muses, such as would not suffer the glorious fire of poesy to be wholly extinguished, is so remarkable and peculiar to your lordship, that, with a full vote and suffrage, it is acknowledged that the patronage and protection of the dramatic poem is yours and almost without a rival.”

2. Prevent.

3. The reference is to the knightly sport of riding at the ring.

4. At the expense of.

5. Rolls of lint used to dress wounds.

6. Surgeons.

7. A small horse.

8. Ballasted.

9. A lively dance.

10. Throws into the shade.

11. At the point of.

12. Coaches.

13. Spy.

14. Cheats.

15. Spy.

16. Lustful.

17. Genesis 31:31–42.

18. The net in which he caught Venus and Mars.

19. Housekeepers.

20. Produced.

21. Qq. read strange.

22. Guess.

23. The phrase used to indicate that accounts had been examined and found correct.

24. Using words of present time; i.e., “I take,” not “I will take.”

25. Knot.

26. More firmly.

27. Of difficult disposition.

28. Chief part.

29. Bullies (Hazlitt); lawyers (Vaughan).

30. Royal journey.

31. Turning a boat on its side for repairs.

32. Scabbed.

33. Empty.

34. Face-modeling (Sampson). “There’s a plain statement of your practises.”

35. Blue like those of a woman with child.

36. Scurf.

37. Person of highest influence.

38. Hysteria.

39. This year.

40. Clearly.

41. Youngster.

42. Crossness.

43. Always.

44. The meaner servants.

45. At once.

46. Cast his horoscope.

47. Making an astrological calculation.

48. Going to the root of the matter.

49. Write.

50. I.e., on his handkerchief.

51. Addressing the lantern.

52. “The rest not considered.”

53. A piece of news.

54. Cleverly contrived.

55. Religious recluse.

56. Experienced.

57. Sick.

58. Medicinal.

59. Strong broth.

60. The mandrake was supposed to give forth shrieks when uprooted, which drove the hearer mad.

61. Unchaste.

62. Supposed to be a sign of folly.

63. Throw the hammer.

64. Boil to shreds. (Dyce.) Qq, to boil.

65. Wealth.

66. Lampoons.

67. Plowshares.

68. Spying.

69. Deceptions.

70. Soothing.

71. Qq. read slight.

72. Powder of orris-root.

73. Wheels of craft.

74. Certificate that the books were found correct.

75. The badge of a steward.

76. Spies.

77. Lot.

78. For Plutus.

79. Quick steps.

80. Miss.

81. Remains.

82. Profession.

83. A decorated horse-cloth, used only when the court is traveling.

84. The first quarto has in the margin: “The Author disclaims this Ditty to be his.”

85. Small birds.

86. His vizard.

87. Curtain.

88. The wife of Brutus, who died by swallowing fire.

89. By artificial means.

90. Profession.

91. Spying.

92. Band.

93. Bands.

94. Boil.

95. Punning on the two senses of “dye” and “corn.”

96. From exporting his grain.

97. Optical glass.

98. The Geneva Bible.

99. Petticoat.

100. Coach.

101. A warm drink containing milk, wine, etc.

102. Receptacle.

103. A drug supposed to ooze from embalmed bodies.

104. Curdled.

105. Trial.

106. An exclamation of impatience.

107. In escheat; here, in fee.

108. Disbeliever.

109. Fraught.

110. A dog which worries sheep.

111. A fabulous serpent that killed by its glance.

112. Cut a caper.

113. Broth.

114. Skeletons.

115. So Dyce. Qq. brought.

116. Perfumed sweetmeats for the breath.

117. Smoke.

118. Reality.

119. Mistake.

120. I.e., the dead body.

Colophon

The Duchess of Malfi
was published in 1623 by
John Webster.

This ebook was produced for
Standard Ebooks
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B. Timothy Keith,
and is based on a transcription produced in 2000 by
Gary R. Young and David Widger
for
Project Gutenberg
and on digital scans from the
Internet Archive.

The cover page is adapted from
Portrait of a Couple and Four Children,
a painting completed between 1620 and 1625 by
An Unknown Artist.
The cover and title pages feature the
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