The Duchess of Malfi
Page 7
FRANK. I must look to you, Master Wendoll; for you’ll be playing false. Nay, so will my wife, too.
NICK. [Aside] I will be sworn she will.
ANNE. Let them that are taken false, forfeit the set!
FRANK. Content; it shall go hard but I’ll take you.
CRAN. Gentlemen, what shall our game be?
WEN. Master Frankford, you play best at noddy.65
FRANK. You shall not find it so; indeed, you shall not.
ANNE. I can play at nothing so well as double-ruff.
FRANK. If Master Wendoll and my wife be together, there’s no playing against them at double-hand.
NICK. I can tell you, sir, the game that Master Wendoll is best at.
FRANK. What game is that, Nick?
NICK. Marry, sir, knave out of doors.
WEN. She and I will take you at lodam.
ANNE. Husband, shall we play at saint?
FRANK. [Aside] My saint’s turned devil.—No, we’ll none of saint:
You are best at new-cut, wife, you’ll play at that.
WEN. If you play at new-cut, I’m soonest hitter of any here, for a wager.
FRANK. [Aside] ’Tis me they play on.—Well, you may draw out;
For all your cunning, ’twill be to your shame;
I’ll teach you, at your new-cut, a new game.
Come, come!
CRAN. If you cannot agree upon the game, to post and pair!66
WEN. We shall be soonest pairs; and my good host,
When he comes late home, he must kiss the post.67
FRANK. Whoever wins, it shall be to thy cost.
CRAN. Faith, let it be vide-ruff,68 and let’s make honors!
FRANK. If you make honors, one thing let me crave:
Honor the king and queen, except the knave.
WEN. Well, as you please for that.—Lift,69 who shall deal?
ANNE. The least in sight. What are you, Master Wendoll?
WEN. I am a knave.
NICK. [Aside] I’ll swear it.
ANNE. I am queen.
FRANK. [Aside] A quean, thou should’st say.—Well, the cards are mine:
They are the grossest pair that e’er I felt.
ANNE. Shuffle, I’ll cut: would I had never dealt!
FRANK. I have lost my dealing.
WEN. Sir, the fault’s in me;
This queen I have more than mine own, you see.
Give me the stock!70
FRANK. My mind’s not on my game.
Many a deal I’ve lost; the more’s your shame.
You have served me a bad trick, Master Wendoll.
WEN. Sir, you must take your lot. To end this strife,
I know I have dealt better with your wife.
FRANK. Thou hast dealt falsely, then.
ANNE. What’s trumps?
WEN. Hearts. Partner, I rub.71
FRANK. [Aside] Thou robb’st me of my soul, of her chaste love;
In thy false dealing thou hast robbed my heart.
Booty you play;72 I like a loser stand,
Having no heart or here, or in my hand.
I will give o’er the set, I am not well.
Come, who will hold my cards?
ANNE. Not well, sweet Master Frankford?
Alas, what ails you? ’Tis some sudden qualm.
WEN. How long have you been so, Master Frankford?
FRANK. Sir, I was lusty, and I had my health,
But I grew ill when you began to deal.—
Take hence this table!—Gentle Master Cranwell,
Y’are welcome; see your chamber at your pleasure!
I am sorry that this megrim takes me so,
I cannot sit and bear you company.
Jenkin, some lights, and show him to his chamber!
ANNE. A nightgown73 for my husband; quickly, there!
It is some rheum or cold.
WEN. Now, in good faith,
This illness you have got by sitting late
Without your gown.
FRANK. I know it, Master Wendoll.
Go, go to bed, lest you complain like me!—
Wife, pr’ythee, wife, into my bed-chamber!
The night is raw and cold, and rhéumatic.
Leave me my gown and light; I’ll walk away my fit.
WEN. Sweet sir, good night!
FRANK. Myself, good night!
Exit Wendoll
ANNE. Shall I attend you, husband?
FRANK. No, gentle wife, thou’lt catch cold in thy head.
Pr’ythee, begone, sweet; I’ll make haste to bed.
ANNE. NO sleep will fasten on mine eyes, you know,
Until you come.
FRANK. Sweet Nan, I pr’ythee, go!—
Exit Anne
I have bethought me; get me by degrees
The keys of all my doors, which I will mould
In wax, and take their fair impression,
To have by them new keys. This being compassed,
At a set hour a letter shall be brought me,
And when they think they may securely play,
They nearest are to danger.—Nick, I must rely
Upon thy trust and faithful secrecy.
NICK. Build on my faith!
FRANK. To bed, then, not to rest!
Care lodges in my brain, grief in my breast.
Exeunt
SCENE III
Enter Sir Charles’ Sister, Old Mountford, Sandy, Roder and Tidy
OLD MOUNT. You say my nephew is in great distress;
Who brought it to him, but his own lewd life?
I cannot spare a cross.74 I must confess,
He was my brother’s son; why, niece, what then?
This is no world in which to pity men.
SUSAN. I was not born a beggar, though his extremes
Enforce this language from me. I protest
No fortunes of mine own could lead my tongue
To this base key. I do beseech you, uncle,
For the name’s sake, for Christianity,—
Nay, for God’s sake, to pity his distress.
He is denied the freedom of the prison,
And in the hole is laid with men condemned;
Plenty he hath of nothing but of irons,
And it remains in you to free him thence.
OLD MOUNT. Money I cannot spare; men should take heed.
He lost my kindred when he fell to need.
Exit
SUSAN. Gold is but earth; thou earth enough shalt have,
When thou hast once took measure of thy grave.
You know me, Master Sandy, and my suit.
SANDY. I knew you, lady, when the old man lived;
I knew you ere your brother sold his land.
Then you were Mistress Sue, tricked up in jewels;
Then you sang well, played sweetly on the lute;
But now I neither know you nor your suit.
Exit
SUSAN. You, Master Roder, was my brother’s tenant;
Rent-free he placed you in that wealthy farm,
Of which you are possessed.
RODER. True, he did;
And have I not there dwelt still for his sake?
I have some business now; but, without doubt,
They that have hurled him in, will help him out.
Exit
SUSAN. Cold comfort still. What say you, cousin Tidy?
TIDY. I say this comes of roysting, swaggering.
Call me not cousin; each man for himself!
Some men are born to mirth, and some to sorrow:
I am no cousin unto them that borrow.
Exit
SUSAN. O Charity, why art thou fled to heaven,
And left all things [up]on this earth uneven?
Their scoffing answers I will ne’er return,
But to myself his grief in silence mourn.
Enter Sir Francis and Malby
SIR F. She is poor, I’ll therefore tempt her with this gold.
Go, Malby, in my name de
liver it,
And I will stay thy answer.
MAL. Fair mistress, as I understand your grief
Doth grow from want, so I have here in store
A means to furnish you, a bag of gold,
Which to your hands I freely tender you.
SUSAN. I thank you, heavens! I thank you, gentle sir:
God make me able to requite this favor!
MAL. This gold Sir Francis Acton sends by me,
And prays you—
SUSAN. Acton? O God! That name I’m born to curse.
Hence, bawd; hence, broker! See, I spurn his gold.
My honor never shall for gain be sold.
SIR F. Stay, lady, stay!
SUSAN. From you I’ll posting hie,
Even as the doves from feathered eagles fly.
Exit
SIR F. She hates my name, my face; how should I woo?
I am disgraced in every thing I do.
The more she hates me, and disdains my love,
The more I am rapt in admiration
Of her divine and chaste perfections.
Woo her with gifts I cannot, for all gifts
Sent in my name she spurns; with looks I cannot,
For she abhors my sight; nor yet with letters,
For none she will receive. How then? how then?
Well, I will fasten such a kindness on her,
As shall o’ercome her hate and conquer it.
Sir Charles, her brother, lies in execution
For a great sum of money; and, besides,
The appeal is sued still for my huntsmen’s death,
Which only I have power to reverse.
In her I’ll bury all my hate of him.—
Go seek the Keeper, Malby, bring him to me!
To save his body, I his debts will pay;
To save his life, I his appeal will stay.
Exeunt
ACT IV, SCENE I
Enter Sir Charles [Mountford,] in prison, with irons, his feet bare, his garments all ragged and torn
SIR C. Of all on the earth’s face most miserable,
Breathe in this hellish dungeon thy laments!
Thus like a slave ragg’d, like a felon gyved,—75
That hurls thee headlong to this base estate.
O, unkind uncle! O, my friends ingrate!
Unthankful kinsmen! Mountford’s all too base,
To let thy name be fettered in disgrace.
A thousand deaths here in this grave I die;
Fear, hunger, sorrow, cold, all threat my death,
And join together to deprive my breath.
But that which most torments me, my dear sister
Hath left to visit me, and from my friends
Hath brought no hopeful answer; therefore, I
Divine they will not help my misery.
If it be so, shame, scandal, and contempt
Attend their covetous thoughts; need make their graves!
Usurers they live, and may they die like slaves!
Enter Keeper
KEEP. Knight, be of comfort, for I bring thee freedom
From all thy troubles.
SIR C. Then, I am doomed to die:
Death is the end of all calamity.
KEEP. Live! Your appeal is stayed; the execution
Of all your debts discharged; your creditors
Even to the utmost penny satisfied.
In sign whereof your shackles I knock off.
You are not left so much indebted to us
As for your fees; all is discharged; all paid.
Go freely to your house, or where you please;
After long miseries, embrace your ease.
SIR C. Thou grumblest out the sweetest music to me
That ever organ played.—Is this a dream?
Or do my waking senses apprehend
The pleasing taste of these applausive news?
Slave that I was, to wrong such honest friends,
My loving kinsman, and my near allies!
Tongue, I will bite thee for the scandal breath
Against such faithful kinsmen; they are all
Composed of pity and compassion,
Of melting charity and of moving ruth.
That which I spake before was in my rage;
They are my friends, the mirrors76 of this age;
Bounteous and free. The noble Mountford’s race
Ne’er bred a covetous thought, or humor base.
Enter Susan
SUSAN. I can no longer stay from visiting
My woful brother. While I could, I kept
My hapless tidings from his hopeful ear.
SIR C. Sister, how much am I indebted to thee
And to thy travail!
SUSAN. What, at liberty?
SIR C. Thou seest I am, thanks to thy industry.
O! Unto which of all my courteous friends
Am I thus bound? My uncle Mountford, he
Even of an infant loved me; was it he?
So did my cousin Tidy; was it he?
So Master Roder, Master Sandy, too.
Which of all these did this high kindness do?
SUSAN. Charles, can you mock me in your poverty,
Knowing your friends deride your misery?
Now, I protest I stand so much amazed,
To see your bonds free, and your irons knocked off,
That I am rapt into a maze of wonder;
The rather for I know not by what means
This happiness hath chanced.
SIR C. Why, by my uncle,
My cousins and my friends; who else, I pray,
Would take upon them all my debts to pay?
SUSAN. O, brother! they are men [made] all of flint,
Pictures of marble, and as void of pity
As chasèd bears. I begged, I sued, I kneeled,
Laid open all your griefs and miseries,
Which they derided; more than that, denied us
A part in their alliance; but, in pride
Said that our kindred with our plenty died.
SIR C. Drudges too much!77 What! did they? O, known evil!
Rich fly the poor, as good men shun the devil.
Whence should my freedom come? Of whom alive,
Saving of those, have I deserved so well?
Guess, sister, call to mind, remember me!
These I have raised, they follow the world’s guise,
Whom rich in honor, they in woe despise.
SUSAN. My wits have lost themselves; let’s ask the keeper!
SIR C. Gaoler!
KEEP. At hand, sir.
SIR C. Of courtesy resolve me one demand!
What was he took the burden of my debts
From off my back, stayed my appeal to death,
Discharged my fees, and brought me liberty?
KEEP. A courteous knight, and called Sir Francis Acton.
SIR C. Ha! Acton! O, me! More distressed in this
Than all my troubles! Hale me back,
Double my irons, and my sparing meals
Put into halves, and lodge me in a dungeon
More deep, more dark, more cold, more comfortless!
By Acton freed! Not all thy manacles
Could fetter so my heels, as this one word
Hath thralled my heart; and it must now lie bound
In more strict prison than thy stony gaol.
I am not free, I go but under bail.
KEEP. My charge is done, sir, now I have my fees;
As we get little, we will nothing leese.78
SIR C. By Acton freed, my dangerous opposite!79
Why, to what end, on what occasion? Ha!
Let me forget the name of enemy,
And with indifference balance this high favor!
Ha!
SUSAN. [Aside] His love to me, upon my soul, ’tis so!
That is the root from whence these strange things grow.
SIR C. Had this proceeded from my father, he
> That by the law of nature is most bound
In offices of love, it had deserved
My best employment to requite that grace.
Had it proceeded from my friends or his,
From them this action had deserved my life,
And from a stranger more, because from such
There is less execution80 of good deeds.
But he, nor father, nor ally, nor friend,
More than a stranger, both remote in blood,
And in his heart opposed my enemy,
That this high bounty should proceed from him!
O! there I lose myself. What should I say,
What think, what do, his bounty to repay?
SUSAN. You wonder, I am sure, whence this strange kindness
Proceeds in Acton; I will tell you, brother.
He dotes on me, and oft hath sent me gifts,
Letters, and tokens; I refused them all.
SIR C. I have enough, though poor: my heart is set,
In one rich gift to pay back all my debt.
Exeunt
SCENE II
Enter Frankford and Nick with keys, and a letter in his hand
FRANK. This is the night that I must play my part,
To try two seeming angels.—Where’s my keys?
NICK. They are made, according to your mould, in wax.
I bade the smith be secret, gave him money
And here they are. The letter, sir!
FRANK. True, take it, there it is;
And when thou seest me in my pleasant’st vein,
Ready to sit to supper, bring it me!
NICK. I’ll do’t; make no more question, but I’ll do’t!
Exit
Enter Mistress Frankford, Cranwell, Wendoll, and Jenkin
ANNE. Sirrah, ’tis six o’clock already struck;
Go bid them spread the cloth, and serve in supper!
JEN. It shall be done, forsooth, mistress. Where’s
Spigot, the butler, to give us our salt and trenchers?
Exit
WEN. We that have been hunting all the day
Come with preparèd stomachs.—Master Frankford,
We wish’d you at our sport.
FRANK. My heart was with you, and my mind was on you.—
Fie, Master Cranwell! You are still thus sad.—
A stool, a stool! Where’s Jenkin, and where’s Nick?
’Tis supper time at least an hour ago.
What’s the best news abroad?
WEN. I know none good.
FRANK. [Aside] But I know too much bad.
Enter Butler and Jenkin, with a tablecloth, bread, trenchers, and salt; [then exeunt]
CRAN. Methinks, sir, you might have that interest
In your wife’s brother, to be more remiss
In his hard dealing against poor Sir Charles,
Who, as I hear, lies in York Castle, needy