 Act four 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 four, scene one. Enter Ferdinand and Basela. How doth our sister Duchess bear herself in her imprisonment? Nobly. I'll describe her. She's sad as one long used to it, as 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, he thinks, expresseth more than if she spake. Her melancholy seems to be fortified with a strange disdain. She's so. And this restraint, like English mastiffs that grow fierce with tying, makes her too passionately apprehend those pleasures she is kept from. Curse upon her! I will no longer study in the book of another's heart. Inform her what I told you. Act six. Enter Duchess and Attendance. All comfort to your grace. I will have none. Pray thee, why dost thou wrap thy poisoned pills in gold and sugar? Your elder brother, the Lord Ferdinand, is come to visit you, and sends you word, because he once rashly made a solemn vow never to see you more, he comes in 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. At his pleasure. Take hence the lights. He's come. Act seven. Attendance with lights. Enter Ferdinand. Where are you? Here, sir. This darkness suits you well? I would ask you pardon. You have it, for I accounted the honourableest revenge, where I may kill to pardon. Where are your cubs? Whom? Call them your children, for though our national law distinguished bastards from true legitimate issue, compassionate nature makes them all equal. Do you visit me for this? You violate a sacrament of the church shall make you howl and hell-fort. It had been well, could you live thus always? For indeed, you were too much in the 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 vowed much love. The ring upon to you gave. I affectionately kiss it. Pray do, and bury the point 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 to him that owed it. You shall see whether he can aid you. You are very cold. I fear you are not well after your travel. Lights! Oh, horrible! Let her have lights enough. That's it. What witchcraft doth he practice that he had left a dead man's hand here? Here is discovered behind a traverse the artificial figures of Antonio and his children, appearing as if they were dead. Look you. Here's the piece from which it was tamed. 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. There is not between heaven and earth one wish I stay for after this. It wastes me more than to wear my picture fashioned out of wax, stuck with a magical needle, and then buried in some foul dung-hill. And yarns an excellent property for a tyrant, which I would account mercy. What's that? If they would find me to that lifeless trunk and let me freeze to death. Come! You must live. That's the greatest torture souls feel in hell, in hell that they must live and cannot die. Portia, I'll newkindle thy coals again and revive the rare and almost dead example of a loving wife. Oh, fie! Despair! Remember, you are a Christian. The church enjoins fasting. I'll starve myself to death. 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. 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 dispatch me? I account this world a tedious theatre, for I do play a part in it against my will. Come! Be of comfort. I will save your life. Indeed I have not leisure to tend so small a business. Now, by my life, I pity you. 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? One that wishes you long life. I would thou wilt hang'd for the horrible curse thou has given me. I shall shortly grow one of the miracles of pity. I'll go pray. Exit, servant. No. I'll go curse. Oh, fi! I could curse the stars. Oh, fearful! And those three smiling seasons of the year into a Russian winter. Nay, the world to its first chaos. Look you. The stars shine still. Oh, but you must remember, my curse hath a great way to go. Plagues that make lane'd through largest families consume them. Fi, lady! Let them, like tyrants, never be remembered but for the ill they have done. Let all the zealous prayers of mortified churchmen forget them. Oh, uncharitable! 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. Re-enter, Ferdinand. Excellent! As I would wish, she's plagued in art. These presentations are but framed in wax. By the curious master in that quality, Vincenzo Loriola, and she takes them for true, substantial bodies. Why do you do this? To bring her to despair. 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. Damn her! That body of hers! While that my blood-ran purant was more worth than that which thou wouldst comfort, call the soul. I will send her masks of common courtesans, have her meat served up by bods and ruffians, and cause she'll needs be mad. I am resolved to remove forth the common hospital, all the mad folk, and place them near her lodging. Then let them practice together, sing and dance, and set their gambles to the full of the moon. If she can sleep the better for it, let her. Your work is almost ended. Must I see her again? Yes. Never. You must? Never in my own shape. That's forfeited by my intelligence and this last cruel lie. When you send me next, the business shall be comfort. Very likely. Thy pity is nothing of kin to thee. Antonio looks about millen. Thou shalt shortly thither defeat a fire as great as my revenge, which never will slack till it have spent his fuel. Intemperate egg use make physicians cruel. Excellent. Scene two. Enter Duchess and Coriola. What hideous noise was that? Tis the wild consort of madmen, lady, which your tyrant brother hath placed about your lodging. This tyranny, I think, was never practiced till this hour. Pfft. 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. Oh, twill, increase your melancholy. Thou art deceived. To hear of greater grief would lessen mine. This is a prison. Yes, but you shall live to shake this endurance off. Thou art a fool. The robin-red breast and the nightingale never live long in cages. Pray, dry your eyes. What think you of, madam? Of nothing. When I'm used thus I sleep. Like a madman with your eyes open. Does thou think we shall know one another in the other world? Yes, out of question. Oh, 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. The heaven or my head seems made of molten brass, the earth of flaming sulfur. Yet I am not mad. I am acquainted with sad misery as the tanned galley slave is with his oar. Necessity makes me suffer constantly, and custom makes it easy. Who do I look like now? Like to your picture in the gallery. A deal of life in show, but none in practice. Or rather like some reverent monument whose ruins are even pitied. Very proper. And fortune seems only to have her eyesight to behold my tragedy. How now? What noise is that? Enter, 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 sorts of madmen. Which, while the object being full of change and sport, forced him to laugh. And so the impostume broke. The self-same cure that you contends on you. Let them come in. There's a mad lawyer and a secular priest, a doctor that hath forfeited his wits by jealousy. An astrologian that in his work said such a day a month should be the day a doom. And failing of to have ran mad. An English tailor crazed in the brain with the study of new fashions. A gentleman Usher quite besight himself with care to keep in mind the number of his lady's salutations or how-do. She employed him each morning. A farmer too, an excellent nave in grain. Mad, cos he was hindered transportation. And let one broke her that's mad loose to these. You'd think the devil were among them. Sit, Corayola. Let them loose when you please, for I am chained to endure all your tyranny. Enter madman. Here by a madman the song is sung to a dismal kind of music. Oh, let us howl some heavy note, some deadly dogged howl. Sounding as from the threatening throat of beasts and fatal foul. As raven screech owls, bulls and bears will bell and ball our parts. Till irksome noise have cloied your ears and corrosive edged your hearts. At last when, as our choir wants breath, our bodies being blessed, we'll sing like swans to welcome death and die in love and rest. Doomsday not come yet. I'll draw it nearer by a perspective, 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. Hell is a mere glass house, where the devils are continually blowing up women's souls on hollow irons, and the fire never goes out. I have skill in heraldry. Hast? You give for your crest a woodcock's head, with the brains picked out on it. You are a very ancient gentleman. Greek is turn, Turk. We are only to be saved by the hell-vision translation. Come on, sir. I will lay the law to you. Oh, rather lay a corrosive. The law will eat to the bone. He that drinks but to satisfy nature is damned. If I had my glass here, I would show a sight should make all the women here call me mad doctor. What's he? A rope-maker. No, no, no. A snuffling-nave, that while he shows the tombs will have his hand in a wench's placket. Woe to the carosh that brought home my wife from the mosque at three o'clock in the morning. It had a large feather-bed in it. I have paired the devils' nails forty times, roasted them in raven's eggs, and cured Agus with them. Get me three hundred milch-bats to make posits to procure sleep. 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 thereon too. After which Basala, like an old man, enters. Is he mad too? Pray question him. I'll leave you. Excellent servant and madman. I am come to make thy tomb. My tomb? Thou speaks'd as if I lay upon my death-bed gasping for breath. Does thou perceive me sick? Yes, and the more dangerously, since thy sickness is insensible. Thou art not mad, sure. Dost know me? Yes. Who am I? Thou art a box of worm-seed, at best but a salvatore of green mummy. What's this flesh? A little curded milk, fantastical puff-paste. Our bodies are weaker than those paper-prisons boys use to keep flies in. More contemptible than since ours is to preserve earthworms. Did thou ever see a lark in a cage? Such is the soul in the body. This world is like a little turf of grass, and the heaven or our heads, like her looking-glass, only gives us a miserable knowledge of the small compass of our prison. Am not I thy duchess? Thou art some great woman, sure. For riot begins to sit on thy forehead, clad in grey hairs, twenty years sooner than on a merry milk-maid'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, will cry out, as if thou were the more unquiet bedfellow. I am, duchess of mouthy still. That makes thy sleep so broken. Glories, like glow-worms, are far off shine bright, but looks too near, have neither heat nor light. Thou art very plain. My trade is to flatter the dead, not the living. I am a tomb-maker. Thou comes to make my tomb. Yes. Let me be a little merry. Of what stuff wilt thou make it? They resolve me first. Of what fashion? Why, do we grow fantastical on our deathbed? Do we affect fashion in the grave? Most ambitiously. Princes' images on their tombs do not lie as they will won't seeming to pray up to heaven, but with their hands under their cheeks, as if they died of a toothache. They're not carved with their eyes fixed upon the stars, but as their minds were wholly bent upon the world, the self-same way they seem to turn their faces. Let me know fully, therefore, the effect of this thy disson preparation, this talk fit for a charnel. 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. Let me see it. I have so much obedience in my blood, I wish it in their veins to do them good. This is your last present chamber. Oh, my sweet lady! Peace, it affrights not me. I am the common bell-man, that usually is sent to condemned persons the night before they suffer. Even now thou sets thou was to tomb-maker. It was 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 clays now competent. A long war disturbed your mind. Here your perfect peace is signed. Of what is 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. It is now full tide between night and day. End your groan and come away. Hence, villains, tyrants, murderers, alas! What will you do with my lady? Call for help. To whom? To our next neighbours. They are mad, folks. Remove that noise. Farewell, Coriola. In my last will I have not much to give. How many hungry guests have fed upon me. Thine will be a poor reversion. I will die with her, I pray thee. Look thou givest my little boy some syrup for his cold. And let the girl say her prayers ere she sleep. Coriola is forced out by the executioners. Now, what you please? What death? Strangling. Here are your executioners. I forgive them. The apoplexy, guitar or cough of the lungs would do as much as they do. Doth not death fright you? Who would be afraid, aunt, knowing to meet such excellent company the other world? Yet, me thinks, the manner of your death should much afflict you. This cold should terrify you. Not a wit. 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 it is found they go on such strange geometrical hinges he may open them both ways. Anyway, for heaven's 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 feign put off my last woman's fault. I'd not be tedious to you. We are ready. Dispose my breath how please you, but my body bestow upon my women you. Yes. Pull, and pull strongly, for your able strength must pull down heaven upon me. Yet stay. Heaven's gates are not so highly arched as Prince's palaces, they that enter there must go upon their knees. Niels. 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. Where's the waiting woman? Fetch her, some other strangle the children. Enter Coriola. Look you, there sleeps your mistress. Oh, you are damned perpetually for this. My turn is next. It's not so ordered. Yes, and I'm glad you're so well prepared for it. You are deceived, sir. I am not prepared for it. I will not die. I will first come to my answer and know how I have offended. Come, dispatcher. You kept her counsel. Now you shall keep ours. I will not die. I must not. I am contracted to a young gentleman. Here's your wedding ring. Let me but speak with the Duke. I'll discover treason to his person. Delays, throttle her. She bites and scratches. If you kill me now, I am damned. I have not been at confession this two years. To executioners. When? I am quick with child. Why then, your credit saved. Executioners strangle Coriola. Bear her into the next room. Let these lie still. Exit the executioners with a body of Coriola. Enter, Ferdinand. Is she dead? She is what you'd have her. But here begin your pity. Shows the children strangled. Alas, how have these offended? The death of young wolves is never to be pityed. Fix your eye here. Constantly. 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. Cover her face. My eyes dazzle. She died young. I think not so. Her infelicity seemed to have years too many. She and I were twins. And I should die this instant. I had lived her time to a minute. It seems she was born first. You have bloodily approved the ancient truth. That kindred commonly do worse agree than remote strangers. Let me see her face again. Why did not thou pity her? What an excellent honest man might thou have been if thou had borne her to some sanctuary or bold in good cause opposed thyself with thy advanced sword above thy head between her innocence and my revenge. I badly, when I was distracted of my wits, go kill my dearest friend that thou hast done for let me but examine well the cause. What was the meanness of her match to me? The only I must confess I had a hope had she continued widow to have gained 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 cursed for playing a villain's part, I hate thee for it. And for my sake, say, thou hast done much ill well. Let me quicken your memory, for I perceive you are falling into ingratitude. I challenge the reward due to my service. I'll tell thee what I'll give thee. Do. I'll give thee a pardon for this murder. Huh? Yes, and is the largest bounty I can study to do thee. By what authority did thou execute this bloody sentence? By yours. Mine? Was I her judge? Did any ceremonial form of law doom her to not being? Did a complete jury deliver her conviction up in court? Where shall thou find this judgment registered unless in hell? See, like a bloody fool, the house forfeited thy life and thou shalt die for it. The office of justice is perverted quite when one thief hangs another. Who shall dare to reveal this? Oh, 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. You, not I, shall quake for it. Leave me! I will first receive my pension. You are a villain! When your ingratitude is judged, I am so. Oh, horror! That not the fear of him which binds the devils can prescribe man obedience? Never look upon me more! Why, fair thee well, your brother and yourself are worthy men. You have a pair of hearts of hollow graves, rotten and rotting others, and your vengeance, like two chained 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 have longed in a sweet and golden dream. I am angry with myself now that I wake. Get thee into some unknown part of the world that I may never see thee! Let me know wherefore I should be thus neglected. Sir, I served your tyranny, and rather strove to satisfy yourself than all the world. And though I loathe the evil, yet I love you that did counsel it, and rather sought to appear a true servant than an honest man. I'll go hunt the badger by our light to the deed of darkness. Exit. He's much distracted. Off, my painted honor! While with vain hopes our faculties retire, 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. He is 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 color. Who's there, some cordial drink? Alas, I dare not call. So pity would destroy pity. Her eye hopes and heaven, and it seems to hope that late was shut to take me up to mercy. Antonio. Yes, madam. He is living. The bodies you saw were but famed statues. He's reconciled to your brothers. The pope hath wrought the atonement. Mercy dies. Oh, she's gone again. There the cords of life broke. Oh, 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 suffered to do good when we have a mind to it. This is manly sorrow. These tears I'm 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? Oh, 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 reverent 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. End of Act Four. Act Five 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 Five. Scene One. Enter Antonio and Delio. What think you of my hope of reconcilement to the Aragonian brethren? I misdoubt it. For though they have sent their letters of safe conduct to your repair to Milan, they appear but nets to entrap you. The Marquis of Pescara, under whom you hold certain land in cheat, much against his noble nature, hath been moved to seize those lands, and some of his dependents 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. You are still in heretic to any safety that I can shape myself. Here comes the Marquis. I will make myself petitioner for some part of your land to know whether it is flying. I pray, too. Withdraws. Enter Pescara. Sir, I have a suit to you. To me? An easy one. There is the Citadel of St. Bennett with some demeans of late in the possession of Antonio Bologna. Please, you bestow them on me. My friend, but this is such a suit. Nor fit for me to give, nor you to take. No, sir. I will give you ample reason for it soon in private. Here is the Cardinals mistress. Enter 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 Cardinals, to court you in my favour. Gives a letter. It is for you, the Citadel of St. Bennett, that belonged to the banished Bologna. Yes. I could not have thought of a friend, I could rather pleasure with it. It is yours. Sir, I thank you, and he shall know how doubly I am engaged, both in your gift and speediness of giving, which makes your grant the greater. Exit. How they fortify themselves with my ruin. Sir, I am little bound to you. Why? Because you denied this suit to me and gave it to such a creature. Do you know what it was? It was Antonio's land, not forfeited by course of law, but ravished from his throat by the Cardinals and Treaty. It were not fit I should bestow so main a piece of wrong upon my friend. It is a gratification only due to a strumpet, for it is injustice. Shall I sprinkle the pure blood of innocence to make those followers I call my friend's look rudder upon me? I am glad this land, tain 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. You instruct me well. Why, here's a man now with fright impudence from sauciest beggars. Prince Ferdinand's come to Milan, sick as they give out of an apoplexy, but some say it is a frenzy. I am going to visit him. Exit. It is a noble old fellow. What course do you mean to take, Antonio? This night I mean to venture all my fortune, which is no more than a poor lingering life to the Cardinals' 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 my own shape, when he shall see it freight 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 for ever falling. I'll second you in all danger, and, however, my life keeps rank with yours. You are still my loved and best friend. Exit. Scene two. Enter. Pascara and Doctor. Now, Doctor, may I visit your patient? If it please your lordship, but he's instantly to take the air here in the gallery by my direction. Praedy, what's his disease? A very pestilent disease, my lord. They call it lycanthropia. What's that? I need a dictionary to it. I'll tell you, in those that are possessed with their overflows 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 about midnight in a lane behind St. Mark's church, with the leg of a man upon his shoulder, and he howled fearfully. Said he was a wolf. Only the difference was a wolf's skin was hairy on the outside, his on the inside. Bad them take their swords, rip up his flesh, and try. Straight I was sent for, and, having ministered to him, found his grace very well recovered. I am glad, Aunt. 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 dreamt of. If they'll give me leave, I'll buffet his madness out of him. Stand aside, he comes. Enter Ferdinand, Cardinal, Malateste, and Basola. Leave me. Why doth your lordship love this solitariness? Eagles commonly fly alone. They're crows, doze, and starlings that flock together. Look, what's that, follows me? Nothing, my lord. Yes. Tis your shadow. Stay it. Let it not haunt me. Impossible, if you move and the sun shine. I will throttle it. Throws himself down on his shadow. Oh, my lord, you are angry with nothing. You are a fool! How is possible I should catch my shadow unless I fall upon? When I go to hell, I mean to carry a bribe for, look you, good gifts evermore make way for the worst persons. Rise, good my lord. I am studying the art of patience. Tis a noble virtue. To drive six snails performing from this town to Moscow. Neither use code nor whip to them, but let them take their own time. The patientest man of the world match me for an experiment and I'll crawl after like a sheep-fighter. Force him up. They raise him. Use me well, you are best. What I have done, I have done. I'll confess nothing. Now, let me come to him. Are you mad, my lord? Are you out of your princely wits? What's he? Your doctor. Let me have his beard sawed off and his eyebrows filed more civil. 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 sun-burning. I have cruel sore eyes. The white of a cockatrix's egg is present remedy. Let it be new-laid one, you are best. Hide me from him. Physicians are like kings. They break no contradiction. Now he begins to fear me. Now, let me alone with him. Oh, no. Put off your gown. Let me have some forty urinals filled with rose-water. He and I'll go pelt one another with them. Now he begins to fear me. Can you fetch your frisk, 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 door-mouse. Can you fetch your frisk, sir? I will stab him into a cullus, flay off his skin to cover one of the anatomies this rogue has set in the cold yonder in Barbra-Sharugin's hall. Heads! Heads! You are all of you like beasts for sacrifice. Throws the doctor down and bates him. There's nothing left of you but tongue and belly, flattery and lechery. Exit. Doctor, he did not fear you. Thirrally. Drew, I was somewhat too forward. Mercy upon me. What a fatal judgement have fallen upon this fertile land. Knows your grace what accident hath brought on to the prince this strange distraction. Sire, I must fain somewhat. Thus they say it grew. You have heard it ruined 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 murdered by her nephews for her riches. Such a figure one night, as the prince set up late at his book, appeared to him. When crying out for help, the gentleman of his chamber found his grace all on a cold sweat, altered much in face and language. Since which apparition he's grown worse and worse, and I much fear he cannot live. Sir, I would speak with you. We'll leave your grace. Wishing to the sick prince our noble lord. All health of mind and body. You are most welcome. Exxon, Pescara, Malateste and Dr. Are you come? So. Aside. This fellow must not know by any means I had intelligence in our duchess's death, for though I counseled it, the full of the engagements seemed to grow from fertile land. Now, sir, how fair is our sister? I do not think but sorrow makes her look like to an off-dive garment. She shall now take comfort from me. She shall now look so wildly. Oh, the fortune of your master here, the prince dejects you. And be you of happy comfort, if you do one thing for me, I'll entreat. Though he had a cold tombstone, or his bones, I'd make you what you would be. Anything. Give it me in a breath and let me fly to it. They that think long, small expedition win, for musing much of an end, cannot begin. Enter Trillia. Sir, will you come into supper? I am busy, leave me. Aside. What an excellent shape hath that fellow. Excellent. Tis thus. Antonio lurks, here in Millenburg, 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 that advancement. But by what means shall I find him out? There is a gentleman called Delio here in the camp, that hath long when approved his loyal friend. Set eye upon that fellow. Follow him to Mass. Maybe, 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. That there are a thousand ways a man might find to trace him. Hath to know what fellow haunts the Jews for taking up great sums of money, and for sure he's in want. Or else go to the picture makers, and learn who brought her picture lately. Some of these happily may take. Well, I'll not freeze in the business. I would see that wretched thing Antonio above all sights in the world. Do, and be happy. Excellent. This fellow does breed bassinists' desires. He's nothing else but murder. Yet he seems not to have notice of the Duchess's death. Here's his cunning. I must follow his example. There cannot be a sureer way to trace than that of an old fox. Re-enter Julia with a pistol. So, sir, you are well met. How now? Nay, the doors are fast enough. Now, sir, I will make you confess your treachery. Treachery? Yes. Confess to me which of my women was you hired to put love-powder into my drink? Love-powder? Yes, when I was at Malfi. Why should I fall in love with such a face else? I have already suffered for the so much pain. The only remedy to do me good is to kill my longing. Sure, your pistol holds nothing but perfumes or kissing comforts. Excellent lady. You have a pretty way out to discover your longing. Come, come, I'll disarm you and arm you thus. Yet this is wonderous strange. Compare thy four and my eyes together. You'll find my love no such great miracle. Now you'll say I want. This nice modesty in ladies is but a troublesome familiar that haunts them. No, you me. I am a blunt soldier. The better. Sure there wants fire where there are no lively sparks of roughness. And I want compliment. Why ignorance and courtship cannot make you do amiss if you have a heart to do well. You're very fair. Nay, if you lay beauty to my charge I must plead un-guilty. Your bright eyes carry a quiver of darts in them sharper than sunbeams. You will mar me with commendation. Put yourself to the charge of courting me whereas now I will you. 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? 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 of the stone but in me, the thief that perloins it. I am sudden with you. We that are great women of pleasure used to cut off these uncertain wishes and un-quiet longings and in an instant joined the sweet delight and the pretty excuse together. Had you been at the street under my chamber window even there I should have courted you. Oh, you are an excellent lady. Bid me do somewhat for you presently to express I love you. 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 feigned excuse discover the main ground on it. Why would you know this? I have depended on him and I hear that he has fallen in some disgrace with the emperor. If he be like the mice that forsake falling houses I would shift to other dependents. You shall not need follow the wars. I'll be your maintenance. And I your loyal servant but I cannot leave my calling. Not leave an ungrateful general for the love of a sweet lady. You are like some cannot sleep in feather beds but must have blocks for their pillows. Will you do this? Connectly. Tomorrow I'll expect the intelligence. 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 condemned. I have my pardon promised but I would see it sealed. Go get you in. You shall see me wind my tongue about his heart like a schenix. Exit Basala. Re-enter Cardinal. Where are you? Enter servants. Let none upon your lives have conference with the Prince Ferdinand unless I know it. In this distraction he may reveal the murder. Exit servants. Beyond my lingering consumption I am weary of her and by any means will be quit of. How now my lord? What ails you? Nothing. Oh, you are much altered. Come. I must be your secretary and remove this lead from off your bosom. What's the matter? I may not tell you. 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 and cannot be the same unto your tongue? Satisfy thy longing the only way to make thee keep my counsel and not to tell thee. Tell your echo this or flatterers that like echoes still report what they hear they're most imperfect and not me. For if that you be true unto yourself I'll know. Will you rack me? No. Judgment shall draw it from you. It is an equal fault to tell one's secrets unto all but none. But the last, tyranny. Very well. Why, imagine that I have committed some secret deed which I desire the world may never hear of. Therefore may not I know it. You have concealed for me as great a sin as adultery. Sir, never was occasion for perfect trial of my constancy till now. Sir, I beseech you. You'll repent it? Never. It hurries thee to ruin I not tell thee. Be well advised and think what danger it is to receive a prince's secrets. They that do had need have their breast hoof with adamant to contain them. I pray thee, yet be satisfied. Examine thy own frailty. Tis more easy to tie not that unloose them. Tis a secret that like a lingering poison may chance a lie spread in thy veins and kill thee seven years hence. Now you dally with me. No more. By my appointment, the great Duchess of Malfi and two of her young children four nights since were strangled. O heaven, sir, what have you done? How now? How settles this? Think you your bosom will be a grave dark and obscure enough for such a secret? You have undone yourself, sir. Why? It lies not in me to conceal it. No. I swear you to it upon this book. Most religiously. Kiss it. Now you shall never utter it. Thy curiosity hath undone thee. Thou art poisoned with that book. Because I knew thou couldst not keep my counsel. I have bound thee to it by death. Reander Basila. For pity's sake, hold. Basila! I forgive you this equal piece for I betrayed your counsel to that fellow. He overheard it. That was the cause I said it lay not in me to conceal it. Oh, foolish woman! Could not thou have poisoned him? His weakness. Too much to think what should have been done. I go. I know not wither. Dies. Wherefore comes thou hither? That I might find a great man like yourself out of his wits as the Lord Ferdinand to remember my service. I'll have thee shooting pieces. Make not yourself such a promise of that life which is not yours to dispose of. Who placed thee here? Her lust as she intended. Very well. Now you know me for your fellow murderer. 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 in the grave of those who were actors in it. No more. There is a fortune attends thee. Shall I go sue to fortune any longer? It is the fool's pilgrimage. I have honors in store for thee. There are many ways that conduct to seeming honour and some of them very dirty ones. Throw to the devil thy method, Collie. It burns well. What knee we keep a stirring off and pick a greater smother. Thou wilt kill Antonio? Yes. Take up that body. I think I shall shortly grow the common beer for churchyards. I will allow thee some dozen of attendants to aid thee in the murder. No by no means. Physicians that apply horse leeches to any ranked 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 lest it make me have a greater when I ride to the gallows. Come to me after midnight to help to remove that body to her own lodging. I'll give out that she died of the plague and will breathe a lesson query after her death. Where's Castrucio, her husband? He wrote to Naples to take possession of Antonio Citadel. Believe me, you have done a very happy tune. Fail not to come. There is the master key of our lodging to make conceive what trust I plant in you. You shall find me many. Exit Cardinal. Oh 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 nailed well when they bleak their necks. The precedents here are full. How this man bears up in blood seems fearless. Why it is 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 he thinks the Duchess haunts me. There, there, it is nothing but my melancholy. O penitence, let me truly taste of thy cup that froze men down only to raise them up. Exit. Scene three. Enter, Antonio and Delio. Echo from the Duchess's grave. Yon's the Cardinal's window. This fortification grew from the ruins of an ancient abbey and to Yon's side of the river lies a wall, a piece of a cloister, which in my opinion gives the best echo that you ever heard. So hollow and so dismal and with all so plain in the distinction of our words. But many have supposed it is a spirit that answers. I do love these ancient ruins. We never tread upon them but we set our foot upon some reverent history. And questionless here in this open court, which now lies naked to the injuries of stormy weather, some men lie interred, loved the church so well and gave so largely to it 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. Like death that we have. Now the echo have caught you. It groaned me thought and gave a very deadly accent. Deadly accent. I told you it was a pretty one. You may make it a huntsman or a falconer, a musician or a thing of sorrow. A thing of sorrow. I sure that suits it best. That too. That suits it best. That suits it best. It is very like my wife's voice. My wife's voice. Come, let us walk further from it. I would not have you go to the cardinals tonight. Do not. Do not. Wisdom doth not more moderate wasting sorrow than time. Take time for it. Be mindful of thy safety. Be mindful of thy safety. Necessity compels me. Make scrutiny through the passages of your own life. You'll find it impossible to fly your fate. Oh, fly your fate. Hark! The dead stones seem to have pity on you and give you good counsel. Echo, I will not talk with thee. For thou art a dead thing. Thou art a dead thing. My Duchess is asleep now under little ones, I hope sweetly. Oh, heaven, shall I never see her more. Never see her more. I marked not one repetition of the echo but that, and on the sudden a clear light presented me a face folded in sorrow. You're fancy merely. 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. 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, very well. Though in our miseries fortune have a part, yet in our noble sufferings she hath none. Contempt of pain Excellent. Scene four. Enter Cardinal Pascara, Malateste, Rodrigo and Griselon. You shall not watch tonight by the sick prince. His grace is very well covered. Good my lord, suffer us. Oh, by no means. The noise and change of object in his eye doth more distract him. I pray all to bet, and though you hear him in his violent fit do not rise, I entreat you. So, sir, we shall not. Nay, I must have your promise upon your honors, for I was enjoined to it by himself, and he seemed to urge it sensibly. Let our honors bind this trifle. Nor any of your followers. Neither. 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. If your throat were cutting, I'd not come at you. Now I have protested against it. Why, I thank you. T'was a foul storm tonight. The lord Ferdinand's chamber shook like an osseer. T'was nothing but pure kindness in the devil to rock his own child. Excellent, I'll accept the cardinal. The reason why I do not suffer these but my brother is, because at midnight I may with better privacy convey Julia's body to her own lodging. My conscience. I would pray now, but the devil takes away my heart for having any confidence in prayer. About this hour I appointed Basela to fetch the body. When he hath served my turn, he dies. Excellent. Enter Basela. T'was the cardinal's voice. I heard him name Basela and my death. Listen, I hear one's footing. Enter Ferdinand. Strangling is a very quiet death. Aside. Then I see I must stand upon my guard. What say to that? Whisper softly. Do you agree to it? So, it must be done in the dark. The cardinal would not for a thousand pounds the doctor should see it. Excellent. My death is plotted. Here's the consequence of murder. We value not dessert more Christian breath when we know black deeds must be cured with death. Enter Antonio. Here, stay, sir, and be confident I pray. I'll fetch you a dark lantern. Excellent. Could I take him at his prayers? There were hope of pardon. All right, my sword. Stabs him. I'll not give thee so much leisure as to pray. Oh, I am gone. Thou hast ended a long suit in a minute. What, thou? A most wretched thing that only have thy benefit in death to appear myself. Reader servant with a lantern. Where are you, sir? Very near my home. Bossola. Oh, Miss Fortune. Smother like pity. Thou art dead else. Antonio? The man I would have saved above my own life? We are nearly the stars' tennis balls struck and banded which way please, then? Oh, good Antonio. I'll whisper one thing in thy dying ear shall make thy heart break quickly. Thy fair Duchess and two sweet children. They're very names. Kindle a little life in me. How murdered! Some men have wished to die at the hearing of sad tidings. I am glad that I shall do it in sadness. I would not now wish my wounds barmed nor healed, 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 the air. Pleasure of life what is 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 Dalio. Break heart let my son fly the courts of princes. Dies. Thou seems to have loved Antonio. I bought him hither to have reconciled him to the cardinal. I do not ask thee that. Take him up if thou tend to thine own life and bear him where the Lady Julia was wont to lodge. Oh, my fate moves swift. I'll have this cardinal in the forge already. Now I'll bring him to the hammer. Oh, die of all misprision. I will not imitate things glorious. No more than base. I'll be my own example. On, on, and look thou represent for silence the thing thou bearest. Excellent. Scene five. Enter cardinal with a book. I am puzzled in the question about hell. He says, in hell there's one material fire. I need it shall not burn all men alive. I lay him by. How tedious is a guilty conscience. When I look into the fishponds in my garden, me thinks I see a thing armed with a rake that seems to strike at me. Enter basola and servant bearing Antonio's body. Now art thou come? Thou looks castley. There sits in thy face some great determination mixed with some fear. Thus it lightens into action. I am come to kill thee. Huh, help. Oh, God. Thou art deceived. They are out of thy howling. Hold, and I will faithfully divide revenues with thee. Thy prayers and prophets are both unseasonable. Raise the watch. We are betrayed. I have confined your flight. I'll suffer your retreat to Julia's chamber but no further. Help. We are betrayed. Enter above. Piscara, Malateste, Rodrigo, and Griselon. Listen. I duke them for rescue. Fire upon his counterfeiting. White is not the cardinal. Yes, yes, tis he. But I'll see him hanged, ere I'll go down to him. Here's a plot upon me. I'm assaulted. I am lost unless some rescue. He doth this pretty well serve to laugh me out of mine honour. The sword's at my throat! You would not bold so loud then. Come, come, let's go to bed. He told us this much a forehand. He wished you should not come at him, but, believed, the accent of the voice sounds not ingest. I'll down to him, howsoever and with engines force open the doors. Exit above. Let's follow him aloof, and note how the cardinal will laugh at him. Malateste, Rodrigo, and Griselon. There's for you first, because you shall not unbarricade the door to let in rescue. Kills the servant. What cause hath thou to pursue my life? Look there. Antonio. Slain by my hand unwittingly. Pray and be sudden. When thou killed thy sister, thou tookst from justice her most equal balance, and left her naught, but her sword. Oh mercy! Now, it seems thy greatness was only outward. For thou fallst faster of thyself than calamity can drive thee. I'll not waste longer time. There! Stabs him. Thou hast hurt me. Again. Shall I die like a leveret without any resistance? Help! Help! I am slain. The alarm! Give me a fresh horse! Rally the vaunt guard or the day is lost! Yield! Yield! I give you the orders of arms. Shake my sword over you. Will you yield? Help me! I am your brother, the devil! My brother, fight upon the adverse party! He wounds the cardinal and, in the scuffle, gives Basola his death wound. There flies your ransom! Oh justice! I suffer now for what hath form of been. Sorrow is held in the eldest child of sin. Now, your 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 more. I am your brother, the devil. Pain many times taken away with the apprehension of greater as the toothache with the sight of a marble that comes to pull it out. There's philosophy for you. Now, my revenge is perfect. Sink thou main cause of my undoing. Kills, Ferdinand. The last part of my life hath done me best, serious. Give me some wet hay. The broken wind is I do account this world by the dog kennel. I will vaunt credit and effect high pleasures beyond death. He seems to come to himself now he's so near the bottom. My sister! Oh, my sister! There's the cause on whether we fall by ambition, blood, or lust. Like diamonds with our own dust. Dyes. Thou hast thy payment too. Yes, I hold my weary soul in my teeth. It is ready to part from me. I do glory that thou which stoodst like a huge pyramid begun upon a large and ample base shall end in a little point of mind. Enter below. Pascara, Malatesta, Rodrigo, and Grisalan. Oh, no, my lord! Oh, sad disaster! How comes this? Revenge for the Duchess of Malfi murdered by the Aragonium Brevren. For Antonio slain by this hand. For lustful Julia, poisoned by this man. And lastly, that was an actor in the main of all, much against my own good nature, yet in the end neglected. Oh, now, my lord! Look to my brother! He gave us these large wounds as we were struggling here in the rushes, and now I pray let me be laid by and never thought of. Dyes. As he did withstand his own rescue. Thou wretched thing of blood! How came Antonio by his death? In a mist such a mistake as I have often seen in a play we are only like dead walls or vaulted graves that ruined yield no echo. Farewell. It may be pain but no harm to me to die in so good a quarry. Holy's gloomy world in what a shadow or deep pit of darkness does womanish and fearful mankind live. Let worthy minds near stagger in distrust for death or shame for what is just mine is. Dyes. The noble Delio, as I came to the palace, told me of Antonio's being here and showed me a pretty gentleman his son and heir. Enter Delio and Antonio's son. Oh, sir, you come too late. I heard so and was armed for it ere I came. Let's make noble use of this great ruin and join all our force to establish this young hopeful gentleman in his mother's right. These wretched, imminent things leave no more fame behind them 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 pleased to make them lords of truth. Integrity of life is fame's best friend which nobly beyond death shall crown the end. Excellent. End of Act Five End of The Duchess of Malfi by John Webster