The Duchess of Malfi

by Frank Kermode

SIR P. Excellent! have you heard better language, sir?

  VOLP. Well, let them go. And, gentlemen, honourable gentlemen, know, that for this time, our bank, being thus removed from the clamours of the canaglia,38 shall be the scene of pleasure and delight; for I have nothing to sell, little or nothing to sell.

  SIR P. I told you, sir, his end.

  PER. You did so, sir.

  VOLP. I protest, I, and my six servants, are not able to make of this precious liquor, so fast as it is fetched away from my lodging by gentlemen of your city; strangers of the Terrafirma,39 worshipful merchants; ay, and senators too: who, ever since my arrival, have detained me to their uses, by their splendidous liberalities. And worthily; for, what avails your rich man to have his magazines stuffed with moscadelli, or of the purest grape, when his physicians prescribe him, on pain of death, to drink nothing but water cocted with aniseeds? O, health! health! the blessing of the rich! the riches of the poor! who can buy thee at too dear a rate, since there is no enjoying this world without thee? Be not then so sparing of your purses, honorable gentlemen, as to abridge the natural course of life—

  PER. You see his end.

  SIR P. Ay, is’t not good?

  VOLP. For, when a humid flux, or catarrh, by the mutability of air, falls from your head into an arm or shoulder, or any other part; take you a ducket, or your sequin of gold, and apply to the place affected: see what good effect it can work. No, no, ’tis this blessed unguento,40 this rare extraction, that hath only power to disperse all malignant humors, that proceed either of hot, cold, moist, or windy causes—

  PER. I would he had put in dry too.

  SIR P. ’Pray you, observe.

  VOLP. To fortify the most indigest and crude stomach, ay, were it of one that, through extreme weakness, vomited blood, applying only a warm napkin to the place, after the unction and fricace;41—for the vertigine in the head, putting but a drop into your nostrils, likewise behind the ears; a most sovereign and approved remedy: the mal caduco,42 cramps, convulsions, paralysies, epilepsies, tremor-cordia, retired nerves, ill vapours of the spleen, stopping of the liver, the stone, the strangury, hernia ventosa, iliaca passio; stops a dysenteria immediately; easeth the torsion of the small guts; and cures melancholia hypondriaca, being taken and applied according to my printed receipt. [Pointing to his bill and his vial] For, this is the physician, this the medicine; this counsels, this cures; this gives the direction, this works the effect; and, in sum, both together may be termed an abstract of the theorick and practick in the Æsculapian art. ’Twill cost you eight crowns. And,—Zan Fritada, prithee sing a verse extempore in honor of it.

  SIR P. How do you like him, sir?

  PER. Most strangely, I!

  SIR P. Is not his language rare?

  PER. But alchemy,

  I never heard the like; or Broughton’s books.43

  Nano sings

  Had old Hippocrates, or Galen,

  That to their books put med’cines all in,

  But known this secret, they had never

  (Of which they will be guilty ever)

  Been murderers of so much paper,

  Or wasted many a hurtless taper;

  No Indian drug had e’er been famed,

  Tobacco, sassafras not named;

  Ne yet, of guacum one small stick, sir,

  Nor Raymund Lully’s44 great elixir.

  Ne had been known the Danish Gonswart,

  Or Paracelsus, with his long sword.

  PER. All this, yet, will not do; eight crowns is high.

  VOLP. No more.—Gentlemen, if I had but time to discourse to you the miraculous effects of this my oil, surnamed Oglio del Scoto; with the countless catalogue of those I have cured of the aforesaid, and many more diseases; the patents and privileges of all the princes and commonwealths of Christendom; or but the depositions of those that appeared on my part, before the signiory of the Sanita and most learned College of Physicians; where I was authorised, upon notice taken of the admirable virtues of my medicaments, and mine own excellency in matter of rare and unknown secrets, not only to disperse them publicly in this famous city, but in all the territories, that happily joy under the government of the most pious and magnificent states of Italy. But may some other gallant fellow say, O, there be divers that make professions to have as good, and as experimented45 receipts as yours: indeed, very many have assayed, like apes, in imitation of that, which is really and essentially in me, to make of this oil; bestowed great cost in furnaces, stills, alembecks, continual fires, and preparation of the ingredients, (as indeed there goes to it six hundred several simples,46 besides some quantity of human fat, for the conglutination, which we buy of the anatomists,) but, when these practitioners come to the last decoction, blow, blow, puff, puff, and all flies in fumo: ha, ha, ha! Poor wretches! I rather pity their folly and indiscretion, than their loss of time and money; for these may be recovered by industry: but to be a fool born, is a disease incurable.

  For myself, I always from my youth have endeavoured to get the rarest secrets, and book them, either in exchange, or for money: I spared nor cost nor labour, where any thing was worthy to be learned. And, gentlemen, honorable gentlemen, I will undertake, by virtue of chemical art, out of the honourable hat that covers your head, to extract the four elements; that is to say, the fire, air, water, and earth, and return you your felt without burn or stain. For, whilst others have been at the Balloo,47 I have been at my book; and am now past the craggy paths of study, and come to the flowery plains of honour and reputation.

  SIR P. I do assure you, sir, that is his aim.

  VOLP. But to our price—

  PER. And that withal, sir Pol.

  VOLP. You all know, honorable gentlemen, I never valued this ampulla, or vial, at less than eight crowns; but for this time, I am content to be deprived of it for six: six crowns is the price, and less in courtesy I know you cannot offer me; take it or leave it, howsoever, both it and I am at your service. I ask you not as the value of the thing, for then I should demand of you a thousand crowns, so the cardinals Montalto, Fernese, the great Duke of Tuscany, my gossip,48 with divers other princes, have given me; but I despise money. Only to shew my affection to you, honourable gentlemen, and your illustrious State here, I have neglected the messages of these princes, mine own offices, framed my journey hither, only to present you with the fruits of my travels.—Tune your voices once more to the touch of your instruments, and give the honorable assembly some delightful recreation.

  PER. What monstrous and most painful circumstance

  Is here, to get some three or four gazettes,49

  Some three-pence in the whole! for that ’twill come to.

  Nano sings

  You that would last long, list to my song,

  Make no more coil, but buy of this oil.

  Would you be ever fair and young?

  Stout of teeth, and strong of tongue?

  Tart of palate? quick of ear?

  Sharp of sight? of nostril clear?

  Moist of hand? and light of foot?

  Or, I will come nearer to’t,

  Would you live free from all diseases?

  Do the act your mistress pleases,

  Yet fright all aches from your bones?

  Here’s a medicine for the nones.

  VOLP. Well, I am in a humor at this time to make a present of the small quantity my coffer contains; to the rich in courtesy, and to the poor for God’s sake. Wherefore now mark: I asked you six crowns; and six crowns, at other times, you have paid me; you shall not give me six crowns, nor five, not four, nor three, nor two, nor one; nor half a ducat; no, nor a moccinigo.50 Sixpence it will cost you, or six hundred pound—expect no lower price, for, by the banner of my front, I will not bate a bagatine,51—that I will have, only, a pledge of your loves, to carry something from amongst you, to shew I am not contemned by you. Therefore, now, toss your handkerchiefs, cheerfully, cheerfully; and be advertised, that the first heroic spirit that deigns to grace me with a handkerch
ief, I will give it a little remembrance of something, beside, shall please it better, than if I had presented it with a double pistolet.52

  PER. Will you be that heroic spark, sir Pol?

  [Celia at a window above, throws down her handkerchief]

  O, see! the window has prevented53 you.

  VOLP. Lady, I kiss your bounty; and for this timely grace you have done your poor Scoto of Mantua, I will return you, over and above my oil, a secret of that high and inestimable nature, shall make you for ever enamored on that minute, wherein your eye first descended on so mean, yet not altogether to be despised, an object. Here is a powder concealed in this paper, of which, if I should speak to the worth, nine thousand volumes were but as one page, that page as a line, that line as a word; so short is this pilgrimage of man (which some call life) to the expressing of it. Would I reflect on the price? why, the whole world is but as an empire, that empire as a province, that province as a bank, that bank as a private purse to the purchase of it. I will only tell you; it is the powder that made Venus a goddess (given her by Apollo,) that kept her perpetually young, cleared her wrinkles, firmed her gums, fill’d her skin, colored her hair; from her derived to Helen, and at the sack of Troy unfortunately lost: till now, in this our age, it was as happily recovered, by a studious antiquary, out of some ruins of Asia, who sent a moiety of it to the court of France, (but much sophisticated,)54 wherewith the ladies there, now, color their hair. The rest, of this present, remains with me; extracted to a quintessence: so that, wherever it but touches, in youth it perpetually preserves, in age restores the complexion; seats your teeth, did they dance like virginal jacks,55 firm as a wall; makes them white as ivory, that were black as—

  Enter Corvino

  CORV. Spite o’ the devil, and my shame! come down here;

  Come down;—No house but mine to make your scene?

  Signior Flaminio, will you down, sir? down?

  What, is my wife your Franciscina,56 sir?

  No windows on the whole Piazza, here,

  To make your properties, but mine? but mine?

  [Beats away Volpone, Nano, etc.]

  Heart! ere to-morrow I shall be new-christened,

  And call’d the Pantalone di Besogniosi,57

  About the town.

  PER. What should this mean, sir Pol?

  SIR P. Some trick of state, believe it; I will home.

  PER. It may be some design on you.

  SIR P. I know not,

  I’ll stand upon my guard.

  PER. It is your best, sir.

  SIR P. This three weeks, all my advices, all my letters,

  They have been intercepted.

  PER. Indeed, sir!

  Best have a care.

  SIR P. Nay, so I will.

  PER. This knight,

  I may not lose him, for my mirth, till night.

  Exeunt

  SCENE II

  Enter Volpone and Mosca

  VOLP. O, I am wounded!

  MOS. Where, sir?

  VOLP. Not without;

  Those blows were nothing: I could bear them ever.

  But angry Cupid, bolting from her eyes,

  Hath shot himself into me like a flame;

  Where, now, he flings about his burning heat,

  As in a furnace an ambitious fire,

  Whose vent is stopt. The fight is all within me.

  I cannot live, except thou help me, Mosca;

  My liver melts, and I, without the hope

  Of some soft air, from her refreshing breath,

  Am but a heap of cinders.

  MOS. ’Las, good sir,

  Would you had never seen her!

  VOLP. Nay, would thou

  Had’st never told me of her!

  MOS. Sir, ’tis true;

  I do confess I was unfortunate,

  And you unhappy: but I’m bound in conscience,

  No less than duty, to effect my best

  To your release of torment, and I will, sir.

  VOLP. Dear Mosca, shall I hope?

  MOS. Sir, more than dear,

  I will not bid you to despair of aught

  Within a human compass.

  VOLP. O, there spoke

  My better angel. Mosca, take my keys,

  Gold, plate, and jewels, all’s at thy devotion;

  Employ them how thou wilt; nay, coin me too:

  So thou, in this, but crown my longings, Mosca.

  MOS. Use but your patience.

  VOLP. So I have.

  MOS. I doubt not

  To bring success to your desires.

  VOLP. Nay, then,

  I not repent me of my late disguise.

  MOS. If you can horn58 him, sir, you need not.

  VOLP. True:

  Besides, I never meant him for my heir.—

  Is not the color of my beard and eyebrows

  To make me known?

  MOS. NO jot.

  VOLP. I did it well.

  MOS. SO well, would I could follow you in mine,

  With half the happiness!—[Aside] and yet I would

  Escape your epilogue.

  VOLP. But were they gulled

  With a belief that I was Scoto?

  MOS. Sir,

  Scoto himself could hardly have distinguished!

  I have not time to flatter you now; we’ll part;

  And as I prosper, so applaud my art.

  Exeunt

  SCENE III

  Enter Corvino, with his sword in his hand, dragging in Celia

  CORV. Death of mine honor, with the city’s fool!

  A juggling, tooth-drawing, prating mountebank!

  And at a public window! where, whilst he,

  With his strained action, and his dole of faces,

  To his drug-lecture draws your itching ears,

  A crew of old, unmarried, noted letchers,

  Stood leering up like satyrs; and you smile

  Most graciously, and fan your favours forth,

  To give your hot spectators satisfaction!

  What, was your mountebank their call? their whistle?

  Or were you enamored on his copper rings,

  His saffron jewel, with the toad-stone in’t,

  Or his embroidered suit, with the cope-stitch,

  Made, of a hearse cloth? or his old tilt-feather?

  Or his starched beard? Well, you shall have him, yes!

  He shall come home, and minister unto you

  The fricace for the mother.59 Or, let me see,

  I think you’d rather mount; would you not mount?

  Why, if you’ll mount, you may; yes, truly, you may:

  And so you may be seen, down to the foot.

  Get you a cittern,60 lady Vanity,

  And be a dealer with the virtuous man;

  Make one: I’ll but protest myself a cuckold,

  And save your dowry. I’m a Dutchman, I!

  For, if you thought me an Italian,

  You would be damned, ere you did this, you whore!

  Thou’dst tremble, to imagine, that the murder

  Of father, mother, brother, all thy race,

  Should follow, as the subject of my justice.

  CEL. Good sir, have patience.

  CORV. What couldst thou propose

  Less to thyself, than in this heat of wrath.

  And stung with my dishonor, I should strike

  This steel into thee, with as many stabs,

  As thou wert gazed upon with goatish eyes?

  CEL. Alas, sir, be appeased! I could not think

  My being at the window should more now

  Move your impatience, than at other times.

  CORV. NO! not to seek and entertain a parley

  With a known knave, before a multitude!

  You were an actor with your handkerchief,

  Which he most sweetly kist in the receipt,

  And might, no doubt, return it with a letter,

  And point the place where you might meet; your sister’s,
/>
  Your mother’s, or your aunt’s might serve the turn.

  CEL. Why, dear sir, when do I make these excuses,

  Or ever stir abroad, but to the church?

  And that so seldom—

  CORV. Well, it shall be less;

  And thy restraint before was liberty,

  To what I now decree: and therefore mark me.

  First, I will have this bawdy light dammed up;

  And till’t be done, some two or three yards off,

  I’ll chalk a line: o’er which if thou but chance

  To set thy desperate foot, more hell, more horror,

  More wild remorseless rage shall seize on thee,

  Than on a conjuror, that had needless left

  His circle’s safety ere his devil was laid.

  Then here’s a lock which I will hang upon thee,

  And, now I think on’t, I will keep thee backwards;

  Thy lodging shall be backwards; thy walks backwards;

  Thy prospect, all be backwards; and no pleasure,

  That thou shalt know but backwards: nay, since you force

  My honest nature, know, it is your own,

  Being too open, makes me use you thus:

  Since you will not contain your subtle nostrils

  In a sweet room, but they must snuff the air

  Of rank and sweaty passengers. [Knocking within]—One knocks.

  Away, and be not seen, pain of thy life;

  Nor look toward the window: if thou dost—

  Nay, stay, hear this—let me not prosper, whore,

  But I will make thee an anatomy,

  Dissect thee mine own self, and read a lecture

  Upon thee to the city, and in public.

  Away!—

  Exit Celia

  Enter Servant

  Who’s there?

  SERV. ’Tis signior Mosca, sir.

  CORV. Let him come in. His master’s dead: there’s yet

  Some good to help the bad.

  Enter Mosca

  My Mosca, welcome!

  I guess your news.

  MOS. I fear you cannot, sir.

  CORV. Is’t not his death?

  MOS. Rather the contrary.

  CORV. Not his recovery?

  MOS. Yes, sir.

  CORV. I am cursed,

  I am bewitched, my crosses meet to vex me.

  How? how? how? how?

  MOS. Why, sir, with Scoto’s oil;

  Corbaccio and Voltore brought of it,