 INTRODUCTION TO THE DUTCHES OF MALPHY THE DUTCHES OF MALPHY by John Webster INTRODUCTORY NOTE Of John Webster's life, almost nothing is known. The dates 1580 to 1625, given for his birth and death, are conjectural inferences, about which the best that can be said is that no known facts contradict them. The first notice of Webster so far discovered shows that he was collaborating in the production of plays for the theatrical manager, Henslow, in 1602, and of such collaboration he seems to have done a considerable amount. Four plays exist, which he wrote alone. The White Devil, The Duchess of Malfi, The Devil's Law Case, and Apias and Virginia. The Duchess of Malfi was published in 1623, but the date of writing may have been as early as 1611. It is based on a story in Painter's Palace of Pleasure, translated from the Italian novelist Bandello, and it is entirely possible that it has a foundation, in fact. In any case, it portrays with a terrible vividness one side of the court life of the Italian Renaissance, and its picture of the fierce quest of pleasure, the recklessness of crime, and the worldliness of the great princes of the church finds only to ready corroboration in the annals of the time. Webster's tragedies come toward the close of the great series of tragedies of blood and revenge in which the Spanish tragedy and Hamlet are landmarks, but before decadence can fairly be said to have set in. He, indeed, loads his sin with horrors almost past the point which modern taste can bear, but the intensity of his dramatic situations, and his superb power of flashing, and a single line, a light into the recesses of the human heart at the crises of supreme emotion, redeems him from mere sensationalism, and places his best things in the first rank of dramatic writing. Dramatas, persona. Ferdinand, read by M. B. Cardinal, read by Matt Jones. Antonio, read by Martin Geeson. Delio, read by Andy Minter. Vosler, read by David Nicol. Castrucio, read by Bologna Times. Pescara, read by Kim Stish. Malatesti, played by Mark Smith of Simpsonville, South Carolina. Roderigo, read by David Moncaster. Silvio, read by Los Rolander. Grizzle-Lane, read by Miriam Esther Goldman. Doctor, read by Heavid. First Madman, read by Lucy Perry. Second Madman, read by Barry Eads. Third Madman, read by Heavid. The Fourth Madman, played by Mark Smith of Simpsonville, South Carolina. The Duchess of Malfi, read by Elizabeth Clutt. Corayola, read by Ariel Lipschart. Julia, read by Baronee. Old Lady, read by Storm. First Pilgrim, read by Lucy Perry. Second Pilgrim, read by Barry Eads. First Servant, read by Daniel Hutton. Executioner, read by Grace Godwin. Other roles played by members of the company. And narrated by Bologna Times. End of introductory note. Act One of the Duchess of Malfi. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. The Duchess of Malfi, by John Webster. Act One. Scene One. Enter Antonio Andelio. 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? I admire it. In seeking to reduce both state and people to a fixed order, their judicious king begins at home. Quits first his royal palace of flattering sycophants, of disalute 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, wence should flow pure silver drops in general. But if to chance some cursed example poison it near the head, death and diseases through the whole land spread. And what is to make this blessed government but a most provident council, who dare freely inform him the corruption of the times? Though some of the court hold its presumption to instruct princes what they ought to do, noble duty to inform them what they ought to foresee. Here comes Bossola, 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 Bossola. You haunt you still. So? I've done you better service than to be slighted thus. Miserable age, where the only reward of doing well is the doing of it. You enforce your merit too much. 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? Would you could become honest? With all your divinity, do not direct me the way to it. I've known many travel far for it, and yet return as aren't naves 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. He hath denied thee some suit. He and his brother are like plum trees that grow crooked over standing pools. They're rich and overladen with fruit, but none but crows, pies and caterpillars feed on them. Could I be one of their flattering pandas? I would hang on their ears like a horse leech till I were full and then drop off. I pray leave me. Who would rely upon these miserable dependencies in expectation to be advanced 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've done a service, but for a soldier that hazards his limbs in a battle, nothing but a kind of geometry is his last supportation. Geometry? Aye, to hang in a fair pair of slings, take his latter swing in the world upon an honorable pair of crutches from hospital to hospital. Fare ye well, sir, and yet do not use scornus. 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. Accent. I knew this fellow seven years in the gallows for a notorious murder and was thought the cardinal suborned it. He was released by the French general, Gaston de Foire, when he recovered Naples. It is 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 two immoderate sleep be truly said to be an inward rust into the soul, it 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 2 Antonio Deleo Enter Soville Castrucio Julia Rodrigo and Griselon The presence begins to fill. You promised me to make me the partaker of the natures of some of your great courtiers. The Lord Cardinals and other strangers that are now in court, I shall. Here comes the great Calaprian Duke. Enter Ferdinand and attendants. Who took the ring, oftenest? Antonio Bologna, my lord. Our sister Duchess is great master of her household. Give him the jewel. When shall we leave this sport of action and fall to action indeed? Methinks, my lord. You should not desire to go to war in person. Now for some gravity. Why, my lord? It is fitting for a soldier arise to be a prince, but not necessary a prince to send to be a captain. No? No, my lord. He were far better do it by a deputy. 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 honor. Believe my experience, that realm is never long and quiet where the ruler is a soldier. Thou toldst me thy wife could not endure fighting. True, my lord. And of a jest she broke, of a captain she met full of wounds. I have forgot it. She told him, my lord, he was a pitiful fellow to lie like the children of Ismael. All intense. Why, there's a wit we're able to undo all the sheroogens of the city. For although Galadsh should quarrel and had drawn their weapons they were ready to go to it yet her persuasions would make them put up. That she would, my lord. How do you like my Spanish, Janet? He is all fire. I am of Pliny's opinion. I think he was begot by the wind. He runs as if he were ballast with quicksilver. True, my lord. He reels from the tilt often. Ha, ha, ha! Why do you laugh? Bethix you that our courtiers should be my touchwood. Take fire when I give fire. That is, laugh when I laugh. With a subject never so witty. True, my lord. I myself have heard a very good jest and have scorned to seem to have so silly a wit as to understand it. But I can laugh at your fool, my lord. He cannot speak. But he makes faces. My lady cannot abide him. No. Nor endure to be in merry company, for she says too much laughing and too much company fills her too full of wrinkle. I would then have a mathematical instrument made for her face that she should not laugh out of compass. I shall shortly visit you at Millen, lord Silvio. Your grace shall arrive most welcome. You are a good horseman, Antonio. You have excellent riders in France. What do you think of good horsemanship? 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. You have bespoke it worthily. Your brother, the lord Cardinal, and sister Duchess. Enter Cardinal with Duchess and Coriola. All the galleys come about. They are, my lord. Here's the lord Silvio has come to take his leave. Now, sir, your promise. What's that Cardinal? I mean his temper. They say he's a brave fellow who will play his five thousand crans at tennis, dance, court-ladies, and one that hath fought single-combat. 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 engendering of toads. Where he is jealous of any man he lays worse plots for them than ever was imposed on Hercules. For he strews in his way flatterers, pandas, intelligences, 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 bribe so largely and so impudently as if he would have carried it away without heaven's knowledge. Some good he hath done. You have given too much of him. What is brother? The Duke there are most perverse and turbulent nature. What appears in him mirth is merely outside. If he laughed heartily, it is to laugh all honesty out of fashion. Twins? In quality. He speaks with others' tongues, and here's men's suits with others' ears will seem to sleep at the bench, only to entrap offenders in their answers. Dooms men to death by information. Rewards by hearsay. Then the law to him is like a foul black cobweb to a spider. He makes it his dwelling, and the prison to entangle those shall feed him. 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 fixed your eye on the three fair medals cast in one figure of so different temper. For her discourse it is so full of rapture you will only begin then to be sorry when she doth end her speech, and wish in wonder she held it less vain glory to talk much than your penance to hear her. Whilst she speaks she throws upon a man so sweet a look that it were able to raise one to a galley-art that lay in a dead palsy and to doth 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 practised 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 fluttering glasses and dress themselves in her. Fi Antonio, you play the wire-drawer with her commendations. I'll case the picture up only thus much. All her particular worth grows to this sum. She stains the time past, lights the time to come. You must attend my lady in the gallery some half an hour hence. I shall. Excellent, Antonio, and Delio. Sister, I have a suit to you. To me, sir. A gentleman here, Daniel de Bozela, one that was in the galleys. Yes, I know him. A worthy fellow he is. Pray let me entreat for the provisorship of your horse. Your knowledge of him commends him and prefers him. Call him hither. Exit, attendant. We are now upon parting. Good Lord Silvio, do us commend to all our noble friends at the Liga. Sir, I shall. You are from Milan. I am. Bring the caroushe. We'll bring you down to the haven. Excellent, Duchess Silvio. Castrucio. Rodrigo. Grisalan. Cariola. Giulia. And attendance. Be sure you entertain that Bozela for your intelligence. I would not be scenant. And therefore many times have I slighted him when he did court our furtherance as this morning. Antonio, the great master of her household, had been far fitter. You are deceived in him. His nature is too honest. For such business. He comes. I'll leave you. Exit, re-enter Bozela. I was lured to you. My brother here, the cardinal, could never abide you. Never since he was in my debt. Maybe some oblique character in your face made him suspect you. Does 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 cousins him. He did suspect me wrongfully. For that you must give great men leave to take their times. Distrust does cause us seldom be deceived. You see the oft-shaking of the cedar tree fastens it more at root. Yet take heed. For to suspect a friend unworthily instructs him the next way to suspect you and prompts him to deceive you. There's gold. So what follows? A side. Never rain such showers as these without thunderbolts in the tail of them. Whose throat must I cut? Your inclination to shed blood rides post before my occasion to use you. I give you that to live at the court here and observe the duchess. To note all the particulars of her behaviour, what suitors do solicit her for marriage and whom she best affects. She's a young widow. I would not have her marry again. No, sir. Do not you ask the reason, but be satisfied. I say I would not. It seems you would create me one of your...familiars. Familiar? What's that? Why a very quaint invisible devil in flesh and intelligence, sir. Such a kind of thriving thing I would wish thee. And ere long now mayst arrive and hire a place by it. Take your devils, which hell calls angels. These cursed gifts would make you a corruptor, me an impudent traitor. And should I take these, they take me dwell. Sir, I'll take nothing from you that I have given. There's a place I procured for you this morning. The provisorship of the horse. Have you heard, Aunt? No. Piss yours! It's not worth thanks. I would have you curse yourself now. That your bounty, which makes men truly noble, ere should make me a villain. Oh, 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. And what heaven terms vile, that names he complimental. Be yourself. Keep your old garb of melancholy. Twill express, you envy those that stand above your reach, yet strive not to come near them. This will gain access to private lodgings, where yourself may, like a politic door mouse, 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 of the horse. Say then, my corruption grew out of horse dung. I am your creature. Away! Exit. 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 three. Enter Ferdinand, Duchess, Cardinal, and Cariola. We are depart from you, and your own discretion must now be your director. You are a widow. You know already what man is. And therefore let not youth, high promotion, eloquence. No, nor anything without the addition, honour, sway, or high blood. Mary, they are most luxurious, will wed twice. Oh, fie! Their livers are more spotted than Laban's sheep. Diamonds are of most value, they say, that have passed through most jeweler's hands. Whores by that rule are precious. Will you hear me? I'll never marry. 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. Now hear me. You live in a rank pasture here at the court. There's a kind of honeydew that's deadly. To a poison your fame, look to it. Be not cunning, for they whose faces do belie their hearts are witches. They arrive at twenty years. I and give the devil suck. This is terrible good counsel. Hypocrisy is woven of a fine small thread, subtler than Vulcan's engine. Yet, believe it, your darkest actions, nay, your privatist thoughts will come to light. You may flatter yourself and take your own choice. Privately be married under the eaves of night. The best voyage that air you made, like the irregular crab, which though it goes backwards, 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. The marriage night is the entrance into some prison. Those joys, those lustful pleasures are like heavy sleeps which do for run man's mischief. Pretty well, wisdom begins at the end. Remember it. Exit. I think this speech between you both was studied. It came so roundly off. You are my sister. This was my father's pawnyard. Do you see? I'd be loath to see it look rusty because it was his. I would have you to give over these chargeable revels. A visor and a mask are whispering rooms that were never built for goodness. Very well, and beware the part which, like the lamprey, has never abhorrent. Fy, sir. Nay, I mean the tongue, variety of courtship. What cannot a neat knave with a smooth pale make a woman believe? Farewell, lusty widow. Exit. 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 achieved 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 winked and chose a husband. Coriola, to thy known secrecy I have given up more than my life, my fame. 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. Thy protestation is ingenious and hearty, I believe it. Is Antonio come? He attends you. Good dear soul, leave me. But place thyself behind the aris, 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. Coriola goes behind the aris. Enter Antonio. I sent for you. Sit down. Take pen and ink and write. Are you ready? Yes. What did I say? That I should write somewhat. Oh, I remember. After these triumphs and this large expense it's fit like a thrifty husband, we inquire what's laid up for to-morrow. So please, your beautyous excellence. Beautyous? Indeed. I thank you. I look young for your sake. You obtain my cares upon you. I'll fetch your grace the particulars of your revenue and expense. Oh, you are an upright treasurer. But you mistook. For when I said I meant to make inquiry what's laid up for to-morrow, I did mean what's laid up yonder for me. Where? In heaven. I am making my will, as tis fit princes should in perfect memory. And I pray, sir, tell me, we're not one better make it smiling, thus, than in deep groans and terrible ghastly looks, as if the gifts we parted with procured that violent distraction. Oh, much better. 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. Begin with that first good deed began in the world after man's creation, the sacrament of marriage. I'd have you first provide for a good husband. Give him all. All? Yes, your excellent self. In a winding-sheet? In a couple. St. Winifred, that were a strange will. It was stranger if there were no will in you to marry again. What do you think of marriage? I take it as those that deny purgatory. It locally contains all heaven or hell. There's no third place in it. How do you affect it? My banishment, feeding my melancholy, would often reason thus. Pray. Let's hear it. 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. Phy-Phy, what's all this? One of your eyes is bloodshot. Use my ring to it. They say it is very sovereign. It was my wedding-ring. And I did vow never to part with it, but to my second husband. You have parted with it now? Yes. To help your eyesight. You have made me stark-blind. How? There is a saucy and ambitious devil is dancing in this circle. Remove him. How? There needs small conjuration when your finger may do it. Thus. Is it fit? She puts the ring upon his finger. He kneels. What said you? Sir, this goodly roof of yours is too low-built. I cannot stand upright-ent nor discourse without I raise it higher. Raise yourself. Or, if you please, my hand to help you. So. Resism. Ambition, madame, is a great man's madness that is not kept in chains and close-pent rooms, but in fair lightsome lodgings, and his gert with the wild noise of prattling visitants, which makes it lunatic beyond all cure. Conceive not I am so stupid, but I aim where to your favours tend. But he's a fool that being a cold would thrust his hands in the fire to warm them. So now the grounds broke, you may discover what a wealthy mine I make your lord of. Oh, my unworthiness! You were ill to sell yourself. This darkening of your worth is not like that which tradesmen use in 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. Whether nor heaven nor hell, I should be honest. I have long served virtue, and ne'er tain wages of her. Now she pays it. The misery of us that are born great. We are forced to woo because none dare woo us. And as a tyrant doubles with his words and fearfully equivocates, so we are forced 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 to 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 distracts you? This is flesh and blood, sir. It is not the figure cut in alabaster kneels at my husband's tomb. Awake! Awake, man! I do hear 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 blushant. Truth speak for me. I will remain the constant sanctuary of your good name. 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 quietest est. This you should have begged now. I have seen children off deep sweetmeats thus as fearful to devour them too soon. But for your brothers? Do not think of them. All discord without the circumference is only to be pitied and not feared. Yet, should they know it, time will easily scatter the tempest. These words should be mine, and all the parts you have spoke if some part of it would not have savoured flattery. Neal. Coriola comes from behind the Arras. Ah! Be not amazed, this woman's of my counsel. I have heard lawyers say a contract in a chamber per verba de presenti is absolute marriage. She and Antonio Neal. Bless heaven, this sacred Gordy in which let violence never untwine. And may our sweet affections like the spheres be still in motion. Quickening, and make the like soft music. That we may imitate the loving palms, best emblem of a peaceful marriage, that never bore fruit divided. What can the church force more? That fortune may not know an accident either of joy or sorrow to divide our fixed wishes. How can the church build faster? We are now man and wife, and it is the church that must but echo this. Maid, stand apart. I now am blind. What's your conceit in this? I would have you lead your fortune by the hand unto your marriage-bed. You speak in me this, for we are now one. We'll only lie and talk together, and plot to appease my humorous kindred. And if you please, like the old tale in Alexander and Lottawick, lay a naked sword between us, keep us chaste. Let me shroud my blushes in your bosom, since tis the treasury of all my secrets. Excellent. Duchess and Antonio. 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. Excellent. End of Act 1. Act 2 of The Duchess of Malfi. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. The Duchess of Malfi. By John Webster. Act 2. Scene 1. Enter. Basola and Castruchel. You say you would feign be taken for an eminent courtier? Tis the very main of my ambition. Let me see. You have a reasonable good face for it already, and your nightcap expresses your ears sufficiently largely. I would have you learn to twirl the strings of your band with a good grace, and in a set speech, at the end of every sentence, do hum three or four times, or blow your nose till it's 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 escape the gallows. I would be a very merry president. Do not sup a night. Will we get you an admirable wit? 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? 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 their prime night-caps. Enter an old lady. You come from painting now. From what? Well, from your scurvy face-physic. To behold thee not painted, inclined somewhat near a miracle. These in thy face here were deep ruts and foul sluffs the last progress. 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 greater. After, she resembled an abortive hedgehog. Do you call this painting? No, no, but you call it careening of an old, more-fewed lady to make her disembogue again. There's a roughcast phrase to your plastic. It seems you are well acquainted with my closet. One would suspect it for a shop of witchcraft, to find in it the fat of serpents, spawn of snakes, Jews spittle in their young children's odour, and all of these for their 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 footcloth with the spring, and change his high-priced 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 beloved? We account it ominous if nature do produce a colt, or lamb, or fawn, or goat in any limb resembling a man, and fly from it as a prodigy. Man stands amazed 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 tamed from beasts as the most ulcerous wolf and swindish 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 shall put us in the ground to be made sweet. Your wife's gone to Rome. You too, couple, and get you to the wells at Lucca to recover your aches. I have other work on foot. Excellent. Castrosho, an old lady. I observe our duchess is sick of days. She pukes, her stomach sieves, the fins of her eyelids look most teeming blue, she wanes in the cheek and waxes fat in the flank, and contrary to our Italian fashion wears a loose-bodied gown. There's somewhat int. I have a trick, may chance discover it. A pretty one. I have brought some apricox, the first-arspring yields. Enter Antonio and Deleon, talking together apart. And so long since married, you amaze me. Let me seal your lips for ever, for did I think that anything but the 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. Oh, sir, the opinion of wisdom is a foul tether that runs all over a man's body. If simplicity directs 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. I do understand your inside. Do you so? Because you would not seem to appear to the world puffed up with your preferment, you continue this out-of-fashion melancholy. Leave it, leave it. 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. You would look up to heaven, but I think the devil that rules the air stands in your light. Oh, sir, you are lord of the ascendant, chief man with the Duchess. A duke was your cousin German removed. Say you were linearly descended from King Pepin, 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 more weighty cause than those of meaner persons. They're deceived, 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. Oh, your arm, Antonio, do I not go fat? I am exceeding short-winded. Basela, I would have you, sir, provide for me a litter. Such a one is the Duchess of Florence rode in. The Duchess used one when she was great with child. I think she did. A come hither mend my rough. Here, when thou art such a tedious lady, and thy breath smells of lemon-pills, what thou hadst done? Shall I swoon under thy fingers? I am so troubled with the mother. Aside, I fear too much. I have heard you say that the French courtiers wear their hats on for that king. I have seen it. In the presence? Yes. Why should not we bring up that fashion? To his ceremony more than duty that consists in the removing of a piece of felt. Be you the example to the rest of the court. Put on your hat first. You must pardon me. I have seen in colder countries than in France nobles stand bare to the prince, and the distinction, we thought, showed reverently. I have a present for your grace. For me, sir. Apricots, madam. Oh, sir, where are they? I have heard of none to year. Aside. Good, her colour rises. Indeed, I thank you. They are wondrous fair ones. What an unskillful fellow as our gardener. We shall have none this month. Will not your grace pair them? No. They taste of musk-methinks. Indeed, they do. I know not. Yet I wish your grace had paired them. Why? I forgot to tell you. The gardener, only to raise his profit by them the sooner, did ripen them in horse-dung. Oh, you jest. You shall judge. Pray taste one. Indeed, madam. I do not love the fruit. Sir, you are loath to rob us of our dainties. Tis a delicate fruit. They say they are restorative. Tis a pretty art, this grafting. Tis so. A bettering of nature. To make a pippin grow upon a crab. A damson on a black-thorn. A side. How greedily she eats them. A whirlwind strike off those bored farthing-gales. For but for that and the loose-bodied gown I should have discovered, apparently, the young spring-gall cutting a caper in her belly. I thank you, Barthela. They were right good ones, if they do not make me sick. How now, madam? Oh, this green fruit and my stomach are not friends. How they swell me. A side. Nay, you are much too swelled already. Oh, I am in an extreme cold sweat. I am very sorry. Exit. Lights to my chamber. Oh, good Antonio. I fear I am undone. Lights there. Lights. Exit. Duchess and ladies. Oh, my most trusty Dalio, we are lost. I fear she's fallen in labour, and there's left no time for her remove. Have you prepared those ladies to attend her, and procured that politics-safe conveyance for the midwife your duchess plotted? I have. Make use, then, of this forced occasion. Give out that Barthela has poisoned her with these apricots. That will give some colour for her keeping close. I fie. The physicians will then flock to her. For that you may pretend she'll use some prepared antidote of her own, lest the physicians should re-poison her. I am lost in amazement. I know not what to think on't. Exit. Send to. Enter. Barthela. An old lady. So, so. There's no question, but her tetanus and most vulturous eating of the apricots are apparent signs of breeding now. I am in haste, sir. There was a young waiting-woman and a monstrous desire to see the glass-house. Nay, pray, let me go. I will hear no more of the glass-house. You are still abusing women. 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 Funderer, you have the same dannies still to hold up their legs to receive them. Do you sound never study the mathematics? What's that, sir? Why, to know the trick how to make many lines meet in one center. Go, go. Give your foster-door as 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 Rodrigo and Grisalan. Shut up the court gates. Why, sir, what's the danger? Shut up the postons presently and call all the officers of the court. I shall, instantly. Exit. Who keeps the key of the park gate? Forobosco. Let him bring it presently. Re-enter Grisalan with servants. Oh, gentlemen of the court, the foulest treason. Aside. If that these apricots should be poisoned now without my knowledge. There was taken even now a switzer in the duchess bed-chamber. A switzer? With a pistol. There was a cunning traitor. And all the moulds of his buttons were leaden bullets. Wicked cannibal. It was a French plot upon my life. To see what the devil can do. Are all the officers here? We are. 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? Yes. Does the duchess pleasure each officer be locked into his chamber till the sun rising? And to send the keys of all their chests and of their outward doors into her bed-chamber? She is very sick. At her pleasure. She entreats you taked not ill. The innocent shall be the more approved by it. Gentlemen of the wood-yard, where's your switzer now? By this hand it was credibly reported by one of the black guard. Excellent, all except Antonio and Delio. How fares it with the duchess? She's exposed unto the worst of torture, pain, and fear. Speak to her all happy comfort. 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. Do not doubt me. O, Tis, far from me. And yet fear presents me somewhat that looks like danger. Believe it. Tis but the shadow of your fear no more. How superstitiously we mind our evils, the throwing down salt or crossing over hair, bleeding at nose, the stumbling of a horse, or singing of a cricket, are of power to dawn the whole man in us. Sir, fare you well. I wish you all the joys of a blessed father. And for my faith lay this unto your breast. Old friends, like old swords, still are trusted best. Exit. Enter Coriola. Sir, you are the happy father of a son. Your wife commends him to you. Blessed comfort. For heaven's sake tend her well. I'll presently go set a figure for his nativity. Exit. Scene three. Enter Basola with a dark lantern. Sure, I did hear a woman shriek. List, ha! And the sound came. If I received it right. From the Duchess's 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. Maybe it was the melancholy bird's best friend of silence and the solitariness, the owl that screams so. Antonio. Enter Antonio with a candle. His sword drawn. I heard some noise. Who's there? What art thou? Speak. Antonio, put not your face and your body to such a forced expression of fear. I'm Basola, your friend. Basola. Aside. This mould has undermined me. Heard you not a noise even now. From whence? From the Duchess lodging. Not I, did you? I did, or else I'd dreamed. Let's walk towards it. No, it may be to us but the rising of the wind. Very likely. Me thinks it is cold, and yet you sweat. You look wildly. I have been setting a figure for the Duchess' jewels. Ah, and how falls your question? Do you find it radical? What's that to you? It is rather to be questioned what design, when all men were commanded to their lodgings, makes you a night-walker. Insoof, I'll tell you. Now all the courts 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 courier. Aside. This fellow will undo me. You gave the Duchess apricots today. Pray heaven they were not poisoned. Poisoned? A Spanish fig for the imputation. Traitors are ever confident till they are discovered. There were jewels stolen too. In my conceit none are to be suspected more than yourself. You are a false steward. Saucy slave, I'll pull thee up by the root. Maybe the ruin will crush it apices. You are an impudent snake indeed, sir. Are you scarce warm, and do you show your sting? You libel well, sir. No, sir. Copy it out, and I will set my hands to it. 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 are drowned in blood. Mere accident. For you, sir, I'll take order in the morn you shall be safe. Aside. It is 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. Excellent. Antonio, hear about, and drop a paper. Some of your help, false friend. Oh, here it is. What's here? A child's nativity calculated. Rids. The Duchess was delivered of a son between the hours twelve and one in the night, Anno Domini, 1504. That's this year. Decimononon Decemberis. That's this night. Taken according to the meridian of Malfi. That's our Duchess. Happy discovery. The lord of the first house being combusted 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. Setira non-scrutantu. Why, it is now most apparent. This precise fellow is the Duchess's bald. I have it to my wish. This is a parcel of intelligency our courtiers were cased up for. It needs must follow that I must be committed on pretence of poisoning her. Which I'll endure and laugh at. If one could find the father now. But that time will discover. Old Castruccio in the morning posts to Rome. By him I'll send a letter that shall make her brother's galls or flow their livers. This was a frifty way. Though lust do mask in ne'er so strange disguise. She's off found witty, but is never wise. Exit. Enter Cardinal Angelia. Sit. Thou art my best wishes. Pretty. Tell me, what trick did thou invent to come to Rome without thy husband? Why, my lord, I told him I came to visit an old anchorite here for devotion. Thou art a witty false one. I mean to him. You have prevailed with me beyond my strongest thoughts. I would not now find you in constant. Do not put thyself to such a voluntary torture, which recedes out of your own guilt. How, my lord? You fear my constancy, because you've approved those giddy and wild turnings in yourself. Did you where find them? Seuth. Generally for women, a man might strive to make glass malleable ere he should make them fixed. So, my lord? We had need go borrow that fantastic glass invented by Galileo, the Florentine, to view another spacious world of the moon, look to find a constant woman there. This is very well, my lord. Why do you weep? Are tears your justification? The self-same tears will fall unto your husbands, bosom lady, with a loud prostration that you love him above the world. Come, I love you wisely. That's jealously, since I am very certain you cannot make me cuckold. I'll go home to my husband. You may thank me, lady. I have taken you off your melancholy purge. Bore you upon my fist, and showed you game, and let you fly at it. I pray thee, kiss me. When thou wast with thy husband, thou wast watched like a tame elephant. Still, you are to thank me. Thou hadst only kisses from him, and high feeding. What delight was that? It was just like one that hath a little fingering on the loot. It cannot tune it. Still, you are to thank me. You told me of a piteous wound to the heart, and a sick liver when you wound me first, and spake like one in physics. Who's that? Enter, servant. Rest firm, for my affection to thee lightning moves slow to it. Madam, a gentleman that's come post from Malfi desires to see you. Let him enter. I'll withdraw. Accent. He says your husband, old Castruccio, has come to Rome, most pitifully tired with riding post. Accent. Enter Delio. Aside. Signor Delio. It is one of my old suitors. I was bold to come and see you. Sir, you are welcome. Do you lie here? Sure, your own experience will satisfy you know. Our Roman prelates do not keep lodging for ladies. Very well. I have brought you no commendations from your husband, for I know none by him. I hear he's come to Rome. 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 undertaken to aborn his horse. His breach was so pitifully sore. Your laughter is my pity. Lady, I know not whether you want money, but I have brought you some. From my husband. No, from my own allowance. I must hear the condition ere I be bound to take it. Look on't. It is gold. Hath it not a fine colour? I have a bird more beautiful. Try the sound on't. A loot-string far exceeds it. It hath no smell like cassia or civet. Nor is it physical, though some fond doctors persuade us seeped in colours. I'll tell you, this is a creature bred by— Your husband's come. Hath delivered a letter to the Duke of Calabria that to my thinking hath put him out of his wits. Exit. Sir, you here? Pray, let me know your business and your suit as briefly as can be. With good speed. I would wish you, at such time as you are non-resident with your husband, my mistress. Sir, I'll go ask my husband if I shall, and straight return your answer. Exit. Very fine. Is this her wits or honesty that speaks thus? I heard one say the Duke was highly moved, with a letter sent from Malfi. I do fear Antonio is betrayed. How fearful he shows his ambition now! Unfortunate fortune! They pass through whirlpools, and deep woes do shun. Who the event weigh? Are the actions done? Exit. Enter. Cardinal and Ferdinand, with a letter. I have this knight, digged up a mandrake. Say you? And I have grown mad with it. What's the prodigy? Read there, a sister damned. She's loose the hills, grown a notorious strumpet. Speak lower. Lower? Rogues do not whisper it now, but seek to publish it, as servants do the bounty of their lords. Allowed, and with a covetous searching eye to mark who know them. Oh, confusion sees her! She hath had most cunning bonds to serve her turn, and more secure conveyances for lust, than towns of garrison for service. Is it possible? Can this be certain? Rhubarb! Over Rhubarb to purge this caller! Here's the cursed day to prompt my memory, and there shall stick till of her bleeding heart. I make a sponge to wipe it out! Why do you make yourself so wild a tempest? Would I could be one that I might toss her palace about her ears, root up her goodly forests, blast her means, and lay her general territory as waste as she hath done her honors? Shall our blood, the royal blood of Aragon and Castile be thus attainted? Applied desperate physic, we must not now use balsamum but fire, the smart and coming glass, for that's the mean to purge infected blood, such blood as hers. There is a kind of pity in my lie. I'll give it to my handkerger, and now it is here I'll bequeath this to her bastard. What to do? Why, to make soft lint for his mother's wounds when I have hewed her to pieces. Cursed creature, unequal nature to place woman's heart so far upon the left side. Foolish men that ere will trust their honor in a bark made of so slight, weak bulrush as his woman, apt every minute to sink it. Thus ignorance, when it hath purchased honor, cannot wield it. The things 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. With whom? Happily with some strong-side bargemen, or one of the woodyard that can quite the sledge, or toss the bar, or have some lovely squire that carries coals up to her privy lodgings. You fly beyond your reason. Go to, mistress! Tis not your whore's milk that you'll quench my wildfire, but your whore's blood! How idly shows this raid, which carries you, as men conveyed by witches through the air on violent warwinds. This intemperate noise fitly resembles death-men's shrill discourse, who talk aloud, thinking all other men to have their imperfection. Have not you, my palsy? Yes, but I can be angry without this rupture. There is not in nature a thing that makes man so deformed, so beastly, as doth intemperate anger chide yourself. You have divers men who've never yet expressed their strong desire of rest, but by unrest, by vexing themselves, come, put yourself in tune. 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 have enough revenge by her. Are you stark mad? I would have their bodies burnt in a coal pit with the ventage stopped, that their cursed smoke might not ascend to heaven, or dip the sheets they lie in in pitch or soap or wrap them in it and then let them like a match, or else to boil their bastard to a colis and give it his letter to his father to renew the sin of his back. I'll leave you. Nay, I have done. I am confident, had I been damned in hell and should have heard of this, it would have put me into a cold sweat. In, in, I'll go sleep, till I know who loves my sister all that stir, that gnome, I'll find scorpions to string my whips and fix her in a general eclipse. Excellent. End of Act 2. Act 3 of the Duchess of Malfi. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. The Duchess of Malfi. By John Webster. Act 3. Scene 1. Enter Antonio and Dalio. Ah, noble friend, my most beloved Dalio. Ah, you have been a stranger long at court. Came you along with the Lord Ferdinand? I did, sir. And how fares your noble Duchess? 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. My thanks was yesterday. Let me but wink, and not behold your face, which to mine I is somewhat leaner. Verily I should dream it will within this half hour. You have not been in law, friend Dalio, nor in prison, nor a suitor at the court, nor begged the reversion of some great man's place, nor troubled with an old wife, which doth make your time so insensibly hasten. Pray, sir, tell me, hath not this news arrived yet to the ear of the Lord Cardinal? I fear it hath. The Lord Ferdinand that's newly come to court doth bear himself right dangerously. Pray, why? 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. What say the common people? The common rabble do directly say she is a strumpet. And your graver heads, which would be politic? What sense are they? They do observe I grow to infinite purchase 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, 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. The Lord Ferdinand is going to bed. Enter, Duchess, Ferdinand, and attendance. All instantly to bed, for I am weary. I am to bespeak a husband for you. For me, sir, pray, who isst? The great Count Malatestie. Oh, fire upon him. A count! He is a mere stick of sugar-candy. You may look quite through him. When I choose a husband, I will marry for your honour. You shall do well in it. How is't worthy Antonio? But, sir, I am to have private conference with you about a scandalous report as spread touching mine honour. Let me be ever deaf to it. One of Pascual's paper bullets scored Calumny, a pestilent heir which Princess Palaces are seldom purged of. Yet say that it word-frew. I pour it in your bosom. My fixed love would strongly excuse, extenuate, may deny false. Were they apparent to you? Go, be safe in your own innocency. Aside. O blessed comfort, this deadly air is purged. Excellent. Duchess, Antonio, Delio, and attendance. Her guilt treads on hot-burning causes. Enter Basola. Now, Basola, how thrives our intelligence? Sir, uncertainly. It is rumoured she have had three bastards. But by whom we may go reading their stars. Why, some hold opinion, all things are written there. Yes, if we could find spectacles to read them. I do suspect there has been some sorcery used on the Duchess. Sorcery? To what purpose? To make her doped on some dessertless fellow. She shames to acknowledge. Can your faith give way to think there's power in potions or in charms to make us love whether we will or know? Most certainly. Away! These are mere gulleries, horrid things, invented by some cheating mountain banks 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 lennative poisons, such as are of force to make the patient bad, 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 bed chamber. I have. As I would wish. What do you intend to do? Can you guess? No. Do not ask, then. He that can compass me and know my drifts may say he hath put a girdle about the world and sounded all her quicksands. I do not think so. What do you think, then, pray? That you are your own chronicle too much and grossly flatter yourself. 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. Excellent. Sin two. Enter Duchess Antonio and Coriola. Bring me the casket hither and the glass. You get no lodging here tonight, my lord. Indeed I must persuade one. Very good. I hope in time it will grow into a custom that noblemen shall come with cap and knee to purchase the night's lodging of their wives. I must lie here. Must? You are a lord of misrule. Indeed my rule is only in the night. I'll stop your mouth. Kisses him. Nay, that's but one. Venus had two soft doves to draw her chariot. I must have another. Hmm. She kisses him again. When wilt thou marry Coriola? Never, my lord. Oh, fire upon this single life. Forgo it. We read how Daphne for her peevish flight became a fruitless bay-tree. Syrinx turned to the pale, empty reed, and Naxariti was frozen into marble. Whereas those which married or proved kind unto their friends were by a gracious influence trans-shaped into the olive pomegranate mulberry became flowers, precious stones, or eminent stars. This is a vain poetry. But I pray you tell me, if there were proposed me wisdom, riches, and beauty in three several young men, which should I choose? It is a hard question. This was Paris' case, and he was blinded. And there was a great cause. For how was it possible he could judge right, having three amorous goddesses in view, and they stark naked? It was a motion where able to benight the apprehension of the severest counsellor of Europe. Now I look on both your faces so well-formed, it puts me in mind of a question I would ask. Whatist? I do wonder why hard-favoured ladies, for the most part, keep worse-favoured waiting women to attend them, and cannot endure fair ones. Oh, that is soon answered. Did you ever in your life know an ill painter desired to have his dwelling next door to the shop of an excellent picture-maker? To a disgrace his face-making and undo him. My Prithee, when were we so merry? My hair-tangles. Prithee, Coraila, let's steal forth the room and let her talk to herself. I have divers' times served her the like, when she hath chafed extremely. I love to see her angry. Softly, Coraila. Excellent. Antonio and Coraila. Doth not the colour of my hair begin to change. When I wax grey I shall have all the court powder their hair with aris to be like me. You have caused to love me. I entered you into my heart. Enter, Ferdinand, unseen. Before you would vouch safe 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 mixed 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 no, whether I am doomed to live or die, I can do both like a prince. Die then, quickly! Giving her a poignard. Virtue, where art thou hid? What hideous thing is it that doth eclipse thee? Oh, praise, sir, hear me. Or is it true thou art but a bare name and no essential thing? Sir. Do not speak. No, sir. I will plant my soul in mine ears to hear you. Almost imperfect light of human reason that makes us so unhappy to foresee what we can at least prevent. Pursue thy wishes and glory in them. There's in shame no comfort but to be passed all bounds and sense of shame. I pray, sir, hear me. I am married. So? 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? Yes, if I could change eyes with a basilisk. Sure, you came hither by his confederacy. The howling of a wolf is music to thee, Screech Owl. Prithee, peace! Whatever thou art that hast enjoyed my sister, for I am sure thou hearst me. For thine own sake, let me not know thee. I came hither prepared to work thy discovery, yet am now persuaded it would beget such violent defects as would dab 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 I let her make her old in thy embracements, I would have thee build such a room for him as our anchorites to hold thee a use in habit. 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 periketo lest she learn it. If thou do love him, cut out thine own tongue lest it beray him. Why might I not marry? I have not gone about in this to create any new world or custom. Thou art undone, and thou hast tain that massy sheet of lead that hid thy husband's bones and folded it about my heart. Mine bleeds, fort. Thine? Thy heart? What shall I name it, lest a hollow bullet filled with unquenchable wildfire? You are in this too strict, and were you not my princely brother, I would say, too willful. My reputation is safe. Does thou know what reputation is? I'll tell thee to some small purpose since the instruction comes thou too late. Upon a time, reputation, love, and death would travel over 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 plagued with plagues. Love gives them counsel to inquire for him amongst unambitious shepherds where dowries were not talked of and sometimes amongst quiet kindred that had nothing left by their dead parents. Stay, quote, 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. Why should only I, of all the other princes of the world be cased up like a holy relic? I have youth and a little beauty. So you have some virgins that are witches. I'll never see any more. Exit, re-enter Antonio with a pistol. And Coriola. You saw this apparition. Yes, we are betrayed. How came he hither? I should turn this to thee for that. Pray, sir, do. And when that you have cleft my heart, you shall read there mine innocence. That gallery gave him entrance. I would this terrible thing would come again that standing on my guard I might relate my warrantable love. She shows the pawn-yard. What means this? He left this with me. And it seems did wish you would use it on yourself. His actions seemed to intend so much. This hath a handle to it as well as a point. Turn it towards him and so fasten the keen edge in his rank gall. How now, who knocks more earthquakes? I stand as if a mine beneath my feet were ready to be blown up. Tis Basola away. Oh, misery. He thinks unjust actions should wear these masks and curtains and not we. You must instantly part hence. I have fashioned it already. Exit, Antonio. Enter Basola. The Duke, your brother, is taken up in a whirlwind. Hath took horse, hence rid post to Rome. So late. He told me, as he mounted into the saddle, you were undone. Indeed, I am very near it. What's the matter? Antonio, the master of our household, hath dealt so falsely with me in succounts. My brother stood engaged with me for money, tain up of certain Neapolitan Jews, and Antonio lets the bonds be forfeit. Strange. That's right. This is cunning. And hereupon my brother's bills at Naples are protested against. Call up our officers. I shall. Exit. Re-enter Antonio. 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. Short syllables must stand for periods. I must now accuse you of such a feignant crime as Tasso calls magnanima menzonia, a noble lie, cos it must shield our honours. Hark! They are coming. Re-enter. Basala. And officers. Will your grace hear me? 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 signed your quietess, and that cured 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 has 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. I am strongly armed to brook my overthrow, as commonly men bear with a hard year. I will not blame the cause, aunt. 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 it is even like him that in a winter night takes a long slumber or a dying fire, a loath to part from it. Yet parts thence as cold as when he first sat down. We do confiscate towards the satisfying of your accounts all that you have. I am all yours, and his very fit all mine should be so. So, sir, you have your pass. You may see, gentlemen, what it is to serve a prince with body and soul. Exit. 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. I would know what are your opinions of this Antonio. He could not abide to see a pig's head gaping. I thought your grace would find him a Jew. Would you had been his officer for your own sake? You would have had more money. He stopped his ears with black wool, and to those came to him for money said he was thick of hearing. Some said he wasn't hermaphrodite, for he could not abide a woman. How scurvy proud he would look when the treasury was full. Well, let him go. Yes, and the chippings of the buttery fly after him to scour his gold chain. Leave us. Excellent officers. What do you think of these? That these are rogues, that in his prosperity, but to have waited on his fortune, could have wished his dirty stirrups riveted through their noses and followed after his mule like a bear in a ring. Would have prostituted their daughters to his lust, made their firstborn intelligences, thought none happy but such as were born under his blessed planet and war his livery. And do these lights drop off now? Well, never look to have the like again. He has left a sort of flattering rose 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. Poor. He hath amply filled his coffers. Sure, he was too honest. Pluto, 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 end, he rides post and comes in by scuttles. Let me show you what a most unvalued jewel you have in a wanton humour thrown away to bless the man you'll find him. He was an excellent courier and most faithful. A soldier that thought it as beastly to know his own value too little has devilish to acknowledge it too much. Both his virtue and form deserved a far better fortune. His discourse rather delighted to judge itself than show itself. His breast was filled with all perfection, and yet it seemed a private whispering movement made so little noise. He was basely descended. Will you make yourself a mercenary herald rather to examine men's pedigrees than virtues? You shall want him for no. 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 rather swim to the bermudas on two politicians' rotten bladders tied together with an intelligence's heart string than depend on so changeable a prince's favour. Fare thee well, Antonio. Since the malice of the world would knees down with thee, it cannot be said yet that any ill happened unto thee, considering thy fall was accompanied with virtue. Oh, you render me excellent music. Say you? This good one that you speak of is my husband. Do I not dream? Can this ambitious age have so much goodness in it as to prefer a man merely for worth without these shadows of wealth and painted honours? Possible? I have had three children by him. Fortunate lady, for you have made your private, nutul bed the humble and fair seminary of peace. No question but many an unbeneficed 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 to 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 raised by that curious engine your white hand shall thank you in your grave and make that more reverent than all the cabinets of living princes. For Antonio his fame shall likewise flow for many a pen when heralds shall want coats to sell to men. As I taste comfort in this friendly speech so would I find concealment. Oh, the secret of my prince which I will wear on the inside of my heart. You shall take charge of all my coin and jewels and follow him, for he retires himself to Ancona. So? Wither within few days I mean to follow thee. Let me think. I would wish your grace to feign a pilgrimage to our Lady of Loreto 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 of value. Sir, your direction shall lead me by the hand. In my opinion she were better progress to the Baths at Luca or go visit the spa in Germany for if you will believe me I do not like this jesting with religion this feigned pilgrimage. 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. Excellent Duchess and Coriola. A politician is the devil's quilted angel. 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 rests but I reveal all to my Lord Oh, this base quality of intelligence and why every quality in the world prefers but gain or commendation. Now, for this act I am certain to be raised and men that paint weeds to the life are praised. Exit. Enter. Cardinal. Ferdinand. Malateste. Pescara. Deleo. And Silvio. Must we turn soldier then? The Emperor, hearing your worth that way ere you attain this reverend garment joins you in commission with the right fortunate soldier the Marquis of Pescara and the famous Lanoi. He that had the honour of taking the French king prisoner. The same. Here's a plot drawn for our new fortification at Naples. This great count Malateste, I perceive, have got employment. No employment, my Lord. A marginal note in the muster-book that he is a voluntary Lord. He's no soldier. He has worn gunpowder in his hollow tooth for the toothache. He comes to the Liga with a full intent to eat fresh beef and garlic. Means to stay till the scent be gone and straight return to court. He hath rid all the late service as the city chronicle relates it and keeps two pewterers going only to express battles in model. Then he'll fight by the book. By the almanac, I think. To choose good days and shun the critical. That's his mistress's scarf. Yes. He protests he would do much for that, Tafeta. I think he would run away from a battle to save it from taking prisoner. He is horribly afraid gunpowder will spur the perfume on it. I saw a Dutchman break his paint once for calling him a pot-gun. He made his head have a boring like a musket. I would he had made a touch-hold to it. He is indeed a guarded samtercloth only for the removal of the court. Enter Basela. Basela arrived. 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 rack for it. What's that, Basela? I knew him in Padua, a fantastical scholar. Like such a study to know how many knots was in Hercules' club of what color Achilles' beard was or whether Hector were not troubled with the toothache he hath studied himself half-bleared-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. Mark Prince Ferdinand. A very salamander lives in sigh to mark the eager violence of fire. That cardinal hath made more bad faces with his oppression than ever Michael Angelo made good ones. He lifts up snows like a full pork wasper for a storm. The Lord Ferdinand laughs. Like a deadly cannon that lightens ere it smokes. These are your true pangs of death. These are your true pangs of life that struggle with great statesmen. In such a deformed silence witches whisper their charms. Does she make religion her riding hood to keep her from the sun and tempest? That? That damns her. Me thinks her fault and beauty blended together show like leprosy the whiter, the fowler. I make the question whether her beggarly brats were ever christened. This is the state of Encona to have them banished. You're for Loretto. I shall not be at your ceremony. Fare you well. Right to the Duke of Malfi, my young nephew she had by her first husband and acquaint him with mother's honesty. I will. Antonio. A slave that'll be smelled of ink and counters that never in its life looked like a gentleman but in the on at time. Go, go presently. I'll be at 150 of our horse and meet me at the Fort Bridge. Excellent. Scene four. Enter two pilgrims to the shrine of our Lady of Loretto. I have not seen a goodlier shrine than this yet I have visited many. The cardinal of Aragon is this day to resign his cardinal's hat. His sister Duchess likewise has arrived to pay her vow of pilgrimage. I expect a noble ceremony. No question, they come. Here the ceremony of the cardinal's installment in the habit of a soldier performed 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 and dumb show expressed towards them the cardinal and the state of Ancona banished. During all which ceremony this diddy is sung to very solemn music by diverse churchmen. And then, excellent, all accept the two pilgrims. Arms and honors 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 honor 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, adorned in this manner, lead bravely thy forces on under war's war-like banner. O mayest 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. Here's a strange turn of state. Who would have thought so great a lady would have matched herself into so mean a person? Yet the cardinal bears himself much too cruel. They are banished. But I would ask what power have this state of Ancona to determine of a free prince. They are a free state, sir, and her brother showed how that the pope, for hearing of her looseness, hath seized into the protection of the church the dukedom which she held as dowager. But by what justice? Sure, I think, by none. Only her brother's instigation. What was it with such violence he took off from her finger? T'was her wedding-ring, which he vowed shortly he would sacrifice to his revenge. Alas, Antonio, if that a man be thrust into a well, no matter who sets hand to it, his own weight will bring him sooner to the bottom. Come, let's hence, fortune makes this conclusion general. All things do help the unhappy man to fall. Excellent. Scene five. Enter. Duchess. Antonio. Children. Coriola. And servants. Banished Ancona. Ah, yes, you see what power lightens in great men's breath. Is all our train shrunk to this poor remainder? These poor men which have got little in your service vow to take your fortune. But your wiser buntings, now they are fledged, are gone. They have done wisely. This puts me in mind of death. Physicians thus, with their hands full of money, used to give o'er their patience. Write the fashion of the world from decayed fortunes every flatterer shrinks. Men cease to build where the foundation sinks. I had a very strange dream tonight. What was't? My thought I wore my carnate of state. And on a sudden all the diamonds were changed to pearls. My interpretation is you'll weep shortly. For to me the pearls do signify your tears. The birds that live at the 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 Basola with a letter. You are happily hortain. From my brother? Yes. From the Lord Ferdinand, your brother, all love and safety. Thou dust blanche mischief. What's to make it white? Sea. Sea like to calm weather at sea before 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 council, but your head. That is, he cannot sleep till you be dead. And here's another pitfall that's strewed or with roses. Mark it, it is 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 will leave so too. What do you believe? 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. Will you reject that noble and free league of amity and love which I present you? Their league is like that of some politic kings, only to make themselves of strength and power to be our after-room. Tell them so. And what from you? Thus tell him I will not come. And what of this? My brothers have dispersed bloodhounds abroad, which till I hear are muzzled no truce, though hatched with ne'er such politic skill, is safe that hangs upon our enemies will. I'll not come at them. This proclaims your bleeding. For every small thing draws a base mind to fear, as the adamant draws iron. Fare you well, sir. You shall shortly hear this. Exit. 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. You counsel safely. Best of my life farewell. Since we must part heaven hath a hand-int. But no otherwise than as some curious artist takes in sunder a clock or watch when it is out of frame to brink in better order. I know not which is best. To see you dead or part with you. Fare well, 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. O be of comfort! Make patience a noble fortitude, and think not how unkindly we are used. Man, like to Cassia, is proved best, being bruised. Must I, like to slave-born Russian, account it praise to suffer tyranny? And yet, O heaven, thy heavy hand is int. I have seen my little boy oft scourge his top and compared myself to it. Not made me ergo right, but heaven's scourge-stick. Do not weep! Heaven fashioned us of nothing, and we strive to bring ourselves to nothing. Fare well, Corayala, 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. Let me look upon you once more, for that speech came from a dying father. Your kiss is colder than that I have seen, and wholly anchor I to give to a dead man's skull. My heart is turned to a heavy lump of lead, with which I sound my danger. Fare you well. Ex-un, Antonio, and his son. My laurel is all withered. Look, madam, what a troop of armoured men make toward us! Re-enter, bas-la, besarded, with a guard. Oh, they are very welcome. When fortune's wheel is overcharged with princes, the weight makes it move swift. I would have my ruin be sudden. I am your adventure, am I not? You are. You must see your husband no more. What devil art thou that counterfeits heaven's thunder? 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 does allure them to the nets? You have hearkened to the last too much. Oh, misery, like to a rusty or charged cannon, shall I never fly in pieces? Come to what prison? To none. Neither, then. To your palace? I have heard that Charon's boat serves to convey all or the Dismal Lake, but brings none back again. Your brothers mean you safety and pity. Pity? With such a pity men preserve alive pheasants and quails when they are not fat enough to be eaten. These are your children? Yes. Can they prattle? No. But I intend, since they were born accursed, curses shall be their first language. Fine, madam. Forget this base-low fellow. Were I a man, I'd beat that counterfeit face into thy other. One of no birth. Say that he was born mean. Man is most happy whence own actions be arguments and examples of his virtue. A barren, beggarly virtue. 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 dog-fish, 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 of the year, dost live in shallow rivers, ranks thyself with silly smelts and shrimps, and daresst thou pass by our dog-ship without reverence. O, quote the salmon. Sister, be at peace. Thank Jupiter we both have passed the net. Our value never can be truly known, till in the Fisher's basket we be shown. In the 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 valued high when they are most wretched. But come, wither you please, I am armed against misery, bent to all sways of the oppressor's will. There's no deep valley but near some great hill. Excellent. End of Act 3.