The Duchess of Malfi by John Webster (the false prince series .TXT) 📕

weighty cause than those of meaner

persons: they are deceiv’d, there ‘s the same hand to them; the like

passions sway them; the same reason that makes a vicar go to law for

a tithe-pig, and undo his neighbours, makes them spoil a whole

province, and batter down goodly cities with the cannon.

 

[Enter DUCHESS and Ladies]

 

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

I am exceeding short-winded.—Bosola,

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

Such a one as the Duchess of Florence rode in.

 

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

 

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

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

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

Shall I swoon under thy fingers? I am

So troubled with the mother!<41>

 

BOSOLA. [Aside.] I fear too much.

 

DUCHESS. I have heard you say that the French courtiers

Wear their hats on ‘fore that king.

 

ANTONIO. I have seen it.

 

DUCHESS. In the presence?

 

ANTONIO. Yes.

 

DUCHESS. Why should not we bring up that fashion?

‘Tis ceremony more than duty that consists

In the removing of a piece of felt.

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

Put on your hat first.

 

ANTONIO. You must pardon me:

I have seen, in colder countries than in France,

Nobles stand bare to th’ prince; and the distinction

Methought show’d reverently.

 

BOSOLA. I have a present for your grace.

 

DUCHESS. For me, sir?

 

BOSOLA. Apricocks, madam.

 

DUCHESS. O, sir, where are they?

I have heard of none to-year<42>

 

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

 

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

What an unskilful fellow is our gardener!

We shall have none this month.

 

BOSOLA. Will not your grace pare them?

 

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

 

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

 

DUCHESS. Why?

 

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

Only to raise his profit by them the sooner,

Did ripen them in horse-dung.

 

DUCHESS. O, you jest.—

You shall judge: pray, taste one.

 

ANTONIO. Indeed, madam,

I do not love the fruit.

 

DUCHESS. Sir, you are loth

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

They say they are restorative.

 

BOSOLA. ‘Tis a pretty art,

This grafting.

 

DUCHESS. ‘Tis so; a bettering of nature.

 

BOSOLA. To make a pippin grow upon a crab,

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

A whirlwind strike off these bawd farthingales!

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

I should have discover’d apparently<43>

The young springal<44> cutting a caper in her belly.

 

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

If they do not make me sick.

 

ANTONIO. How now, madam!

 

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

How they swell me!

 

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

 

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

 

BOSOLA. I am very sorry.

[Exit.]

 

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

I fear I am undone!

 

DELIO. Lights there, lights!

Exeunt DUCHESS [and Ladies.]

 

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

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

No time for her remove.

 

DELIO. Have you prepar’d

Those ladies to attend her; and procur’d

That politic safe conveyance for the midwife

Your duchess plotted?

 

ANTONIO. I have.

 

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

Give out that Bosola hath poison’d her

With these apricocks; that will give some colour

For her keeping close.

 

ANTONIO. Fie, fie, the physicians

Will then flock to her.

 

DELIO. For that you may pretend

She’ll use some prepar’d antidote of her own,

Lest the physicians should re-poison her.

 

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

Exeunt.

 

Scene II<45>

 

[Enter] BOSOLA and Old Lady

 

BOSOLA. So, so, there ‘s no question but her techiness<46>

and most vulturous eating of the apricocks are apparent signs

of breeding, now?

 

OLD LADY. I am in haste, sir.

 

BOSOLA. There was a young waiting-woman had a monstrous desire

to see the glass-house–-

 

OLD LADY. Nay, pray, let me go. I will hear no more

of the glass-house. You are still<47> abusing women!

 

BOSOLA. Who, I? No; only, by the way now and then, mention your

frailties. The orange-tree bears ripe and green fruit and blossoms

all together; and some of you give entertainment for pure love,

but more for more precious reward. The lusty spring smells well;

but drooping autumn tastes well. If we have the same golden showers

that rained in the time of Jupiter the thunderer, you have the same

Danaes still, to hold up their laps to receive them. Didst thou

never study the mathematics?

 

OLD LADY. What ‘s that, sir?

 

BOSOLA. Why, to know the trick how to make a many lines meet in one

centre. Go, go, give your foster-daughters good counsel: tell them,

that the devil takes delight to hang at a woman’s girdle, like

a false rusty watch, that she cannot discern how the time passes.

[Exit Old Lady.]

 

[Enter ANTONIO, RODERIGO, and GRISOLAN]

 

ANTONIO. Shut up the court-gates.

 

RODERIGO. Why, sir? What ‘s the danger?

 

ANTONIO. Shut up the posterns presently, and call

All the officers o’ th’ court.

 

GRISOLAN. I shall instantly.

[Exit.]

 

ANTONIO. Who keeps the key o’ th’ park-gate?

 

RODERIGO. Forobosco.

 

ANTONIO. Let him bring ‘t presently.

 

[Re-enter GRISOLAN with Servants]

 

FIRST SERVANT. O, gentleman o’ th’ court, the foulest treason!

 

BOSOLA. [Aside.] If that these apricocks should be poison’d now,

Without my knowledge?

 

FIRST SERVANT.

There was taken even now a Switzer in the duchess’ bed-chamber–-

 

SECOND SERVANT. A Switzer!

 

FIRST SERVANT. With a pistol–-

 

SECOND SERVANT. There was a cunning traitor!

 

FIRST SERVANT.

And all the moulds of his buttons were leaden bullets.

 

SECOND SERVANT. O wicked cannibal!

 

FIRST SERVANT. ‘Twas a French plot, upon my life.

 

SECOND SERVANT. To see what the devil can do!

 

ANTONIO. [Are] all the officers here?

 

SERVANTS. We are.

 

ANTONIO. Gentlemen,

We have lost much plate, you know; and but this evening

Jewels, to the value of four thousand ducats,

Are missing in the duchess’ cabinet.

Are the gates shut?

 

SERVANT. Yes.

 

ANTONIO. ‘Tis the duchess’ pleasure

Each officer be lock’d into his chamber

Till the sun-rising; and to send the keys

Of all their chests and of their outward doors

Into her bed-chamber. She is very sick.

 

RODERIGO. At her pleasure.

 

ANTONIO. She entreats you take ‘t not ill: the innocent

Shall be the more approv’d by it.

 

BOSOLA. Gentlemen o’ the wood-yard, where ‘s your Switzer now?

 

FIRST SERVANT. By this hand, ‘twas credibly reported by one

o’ the black guard.<48>

[Exeunt all except ANTONIO and DELIO.]

 

DELIO. How fares it with the duchess?

 

ANTONIO. She ‘s expos’d

Unto the worst of torture, pain, and fear.

 

DELIO. Speak to her all happy comfort.

 

ANTONIO. How I do play the fool with mine own danger!

You are this night, dear friend, to post to Rome:

My life lies in your service.

 

DELIO. Do not doubt me.

 

ANTONIO. O, ‘tis far from me: and yet fear presents me

Somewhat that looks like danger.

 

DELIO. Believe it,

‘Tis but the shadow of your fear, no more:

How superstitiously we mind our evils!

The throwing down salt, or crossing of a hare,

Bleeding at nose, the stumbling of a horse,

Or singing of a cricket, are of power

To daunt whole man in us. Sir, fare you well:

I wish you all the joys of a bless’d father;

And, for my faith, lay this unto your breast,—

Old friends, like old swords, still are trusted best.

[Exit.]

 

[Enter CARIOLA]

 

CARIOLA. Sir, you are the happy father of a son:

Your wife commends him to you.

 

ANTONIO. Blessed comfort!—

For heaven’ sake, tend her well: I ‘ll presently<49>

Go set a figure for ‘s nativity.<50>

Exeunt.

 

Scene III<51>

 

[Enter BOSOLA, with a dark lantern]

 

BOSOLA. Sure I did hear a woman shriek: list, ha!

And the sound came, if I receiv’d it right,

>From the duchess’ lodgings. There ‘s some stratagem

In the confining all our courtiers

To their several wards: I must have part of it;

My intelligence will freeze else. List, again!

It may be ‘twas the melancholy bird,

Best friend of silence and of solitariness,

The owl, that screamed so.—Ha! Antonio!

 

[Enter ANTONIO with a candle, his sword drawn]

 

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

 

BOSOLA. Antonio, put not your face nor body

To such a forc’d expression of fear;

I am Bosola, your friend.

 

ANTONIO. Bosola!—

[Aside.] This mole does undermine me.—Heard you not

A noise even now?

 

BOSOLA. From whence?

 

ANTONIO. From the duchess’ lodging.

 

BOSOLA. Not I: did you?

 

ANTONIO. I did, or else I dream’d.

 

BOSOLA. Let ‘s walk towards it.

 

ANTONIO. No: it may be ‘twas

But the rising of the wind.

 

BOSOLA. Very likely.

Methinks ‘tis very cold, and yet you sweat:

You look wildly.

 

ANTONIO. I have been setting a figure<52>

For the duchess’ jewels.

 

BOSOLA. Ah, and how falls your question?

Do you find it radical?<53>

 

ANTONIO. What ‘s that to you?

‘Tis rather to be question’d what design,

When all men were commanded to their lodgings,

Makes you a night-walker.

 

BOSOLA. In sooth, I ‘ll tell you:

Now all the court ‘s asleep, I thought the devil

Had least to do here; I came to say my prayers;

And if it do offend you I do so,

You are a fine courtier.

 

ANTONIO. [Aside.] This fellow will undo me.—

You gave the duchess apricocks to-day:

Pray heaven they were not poison’d!

 

BOSOLA. Poison’d! a Spanish fig

For the imputation!

 

ANTONIO. Traitors are ever confident

Till they are discover’d. There were jewels stol’n too:

In my conceit, none are to be suspected

More than yourself.

 

BOSOLA. You are a false steward.

 

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

 

BOSOLA. May be the ruin will crush you to pieces.

 

ANTONIO. You are an impudent snake indeed, sir:

Are you scarce warm, and do you show your sting?

You libel<54> well, sir?

 

BOSOLA. No, sir: copy it out,

And I will set my hand to ‘t.

 

ANTONIO. [Aside.] My nose bleeds.

One that were superstitious would count

This ominous, when it merely comes by chance.

Two letters, that are wrought here for my name,<55>

Are drown’d in blood!

Mere accident.—For you, sir, I ‘ll take order

I’ the morn you shall be safe.—[Aside.] ‘Tis that must colour

Her lying-in.—Sir, this door you pass not:

I do not hold it fit that you come near

The duchess’ lodgings, till you have quit yourself.—

[Aside.] The great are like the base, nay, they are the same,

When they seek shameful ways to avoid shame.

Exit.

 

BOSOLA. Antonio hereabout did drop a paper:—

Some of your help, false friend.<56>—O, here it is.

What ‘s here? a child’s nativity calculated!

[Reads.]

‘The duchess was deliver’d of a son, ‘tween the hours

twelve and one in the night, Anno Dom. 1504,’—that ‘s

this year—‘decimo nono Decembris,’—that ‘s this night—

‘taken according to the meridian of Malfi,’—that ‘s our

duchess: happy discovery!—‘The lord of