The Duchess of Malfi

by Frank Kermode

CEL. Some serene92 blast me, or dire lightning strike

  This my offending face!

  VOLP. Why droops my Celia?

  Thou hast, in place of a base husband, found

  A worthy lover: use thy fortune well,

  With secrecy and pleasure. See, behold,

  What thou art queen of; not in expectation,

  As I feed others: but possessed and crowned.

  See, here, a rope of pearl; and each, more orient

  Than that the brave Ægyptian queen93 caroused:

  Dissolve and drink them. See, a carbuncle,94

  May put out both the eyes of our St. Mark;

  A diamond, would have bought Lollia Paulina,95

  When she came in like star-light, hid with jewels,

  That were the spoils of provinces; take these,

  And wear, and lose them: yet remains an ear-ring

  To purchase them again, and this whole state.

  A gem but worth a private patrimony,

  Is nothing: we will eat such at a meal.

  The heads of parrots, tongues of nightingales,

  The brains of peacocks, and of ostriches,

  Shall be our food: and, could we get the phœnix,

  Though nature lost her kind, she were our dish.

  CEL. Good sir, these things might move a mind affected

  With such delights; but I, whose innocence

  Is all I can think wealthy, or worth th’ enjoying,

  And which, once lost, I have nought to lose beyond it,

  Cannot be taken with these sensual baits:

  If you have conscience—

  VOLP. ’Tis the beggar’s virtue;

  If thou hast wisdom, hear me, Celia.

  Thy baths shall be the juice of July-flowers,

  Spirit of roses, and of violets,

  The milk of unicorns, and panthers’ breath

  Gathered in bags, and mixt with Cretan wines.

  Our drink shall be prepared gold and amber;

  Which we will take, until my roof whirl round

  With the vertigo: and my dwarf shall dance,

  My eunuch sing, my fool make up the antic,

  Whilst we, in changed shapes, act Ovid’s tales,

  Thou, like Europa now, and I like Jove,

  Then I like Mars, and thou like Erycine.96

  So, of the rest, till we have quite run through,

  And wearied all the fables of the gods.

  Then will I have thee in more modern forms,

  Attired like some sprightly dame of France,

  Brave Tuscan lady, or proud Spanish beauty;

  Sometimes, unto the Persian sophy’s97 wife;

  Or the grand signior’s98 mistress; and, for change,

  To one of our most artful courtezans,

  Or some quick Negro, or cold Russian;

  And I will meet thee in as many shapes:

  Where we may so transfuse our wandering souls

  Out at our lips, and score up sums of pleasures,

  [Sings]

  That the curious shall not know

  How to tell99 them as they flow;

  And the envious, when they find

  What their number is, be pined.100

  CEL. If you have ears that will be pierced—or eyes

  That can be opened—a heart that may be touched—

  Or any part that yet sounds man about you—

  If you have touch of holy saints—or heaven—

  Do me the grace to let me ’scape—if not,

  Be bountiful and kill me. You do know,

  I am a creature, hither ill betrayed,

  By one, whose shame I would forget it were:

  If you will deign me neither of these graces,

  Yet feed your wrath, sir, rather than your lust,

  (It is a vice comes nearer manliness,)

  And punish that unhappy crime of nature,

  Which you miscall my beauty: flay my face,

  Or poison it with ointments, for seducing

  Your blood to this rebellion. Rub these hands,

  With what may cause an eating leprosy,

  E’en to my bones and marrow: any thing,

  That may disfavor me, save in my honor—

  And I will kneel to you, pray for you, pay down

  A thousand hourly vows, sir, for your health;

  Report, and think you virtuous—

  VOLP. Think me cold,

  Frozen and impotent, and so report me?

  That I had Nestor’s hernia101 thou wouldst think.

  I do degenerate, and abuse my nation,

  To play with opportunity thus long;

  I should have done the act, and then have parleyed.

  Yield, or I’ll force thee.

  [Seizes her]

  CEL. O! just God!

  VOLP. In vain—

  BON. [Rushing in] Forbear, foul ravisher, libidinous swine!

  Free the forced lady, or thou diest, impostor.

  But that I’m loath to snatch thy punishment

  Out of the hand of justice, thou shouldst, yet,

  Be made the timely sacrifice of vengeance,

  Before this altar, and this dross, thy idol.—

  Lady, let’s quit the place, it is the den

  Of villainy; fear nought, you have a guard:

  And he, ere long, shall meet his just reward.

  Exeunt Bonario and Celia

  VOLP. Fall on me, roof, and bury me in ruin!

  Become my grave, that wert my shelter! O!

  I am unmask’d, unspirited, undone,

  Betrayed to beggary, to infamy—

  Enter Mosca, bleeding

  MOS. Where shall I run, most wretched shame of men,

  To beat out my unlucky brains?

  VOLP. Here, here.

  What! dost thou bleed?

  MOS. O that his well-driv’n sword

  Had been so courteous to have cleft me down

  Unto the navel, ere I lived to see

  My life, my hopes, my spirits, my patron, all

  Thus desperately engaged, by my error!

  VOLP. Woe on thy fortune!

  MOS. And my follies, sir.

  VOLP. Thou hast made me miserable.

  MOS. And myself, sir.

  Who would have thought he would have hearkened so?

  VOLP. What shall we do?

  MOS. I know not; if my heart

  Could expiate the mischance, I’d pluck it out.

  Will you be pleased to hang me, or cut my throat?

  And I’ll requite you, sir. Let’s die like Romans,

  Since we have lived like Grecians.

  [Knocking without]

  VOLP. Hark! who’s there?

  I hear some footing; officers, the saffi,102

  Come to apprehend us! I do feel the brand

  Hissing already at my forehead; now,

  Mine ears are boring.

  MOS. TO your couch, sir, you,

  Make that place good, however.

  [Volpone lies down]

  Guilty men

  Suspect what they deserve still.

  Enter Corbaccio

  Signior Corbaccio!

  CORB. Why, how now, Mosca?

  MOS. O, undone, amazed, sir.

  Your son, I know not by what accident,

  Acquainted with your purpose to my patron,

  Touching your will, and making him your heir,

  Entered our house with violence, his sword drawn

  Sought for you, called you wretch, unnatural,

  Vowed he would kill you.

  CORB. Me!

  MOS. Yes, and my patron.

  CORB. This act shall disinherit him indeed;

  Here is the will.

  MOS. ’Tis well, sir.

  CORB. Right and well:

  Be you as careful now for me.

  Enter Voltore, behind

  MOS. My life, sir,

  Is not more tendered; I am only yours.

  CORB. How does he? will he di
e shortly, think’st thou?

  MOS. I fear

  He’ll outlast May.

  CORB. To-day?

  MOS. No, last out May, sir.

  CORB. Could’st thou not give him a dram?

  MOS. O, by no means, sir.

  CORB. Nay, I’ll not bid you.

  VOLT. [Coming forward] This is a knave, I see.

  MOS. [Seeing Voltore. Aside] How, signior Voltore! did he hear me?

  VOLT. Parasite!

  MOS. Who’s that?—O, sir, most timely welcome—

  VOLT. Scarce,

  To the discovery of your tricks, I fear.

  You are his, only? and mine also, are you not?

  MOS. Who? I, sir?

  VOLT. You, sir. What device is this

  About a will?

  MOS. A plot for you, sir.

  VOLT. Come,

  Put not your foists upon me; I shall scent them.

  MOS. Did you not hear it?

  VOLT. Yes, I hear Corbaccio

  Hath made your patron there his heir.

  MOS. ’Tis true,

  By my device, drawn to it by my plot,

  With hope—

  VOLT. Your patron should reciprocate?

  And you have promised?

  MOS. For your good, I did, sir.

  Nay, more, I told his son, brought, hid him here,

  Where he might hear his father pass the deed:

  Being persuaded to it by this thought, sir,

  That the unnaturalness, first, of the act,

  And then his father’s oft disclaiming in him,

  (Which I did mean t’help on,) would sure enrage him

  To do some violence upon his parent,

  On which the law should take sufficient hold,

  And you be stated in a double hope:

  Truth be my comfort, and my conscience,

  My only aim was to dig you a fortune

  Out of these two old rotten sepulchres—

  VOLT. I cry thee mercy, Mosca.

  MOS. Worth your patience,

  And your great merit, sir. And see the change!

  VOLT. Why, what success?

  MOS. Most hapless! you must help, sir.

  Whilst we expected the old raven, in comes

  Corvino’s wife, sent hither by her husband—

  VOLT. What, with a present?

  MOS. NO, sir, on visitation;

  (I’ll tell you how anon;) and staying long,

  The youth he grows impatient, rushes forth,

  Seizeth the lady, wounds me, makes her swear

  (Or he would murder her, that was his vow)

  To affirm my patron to have done her rape:

  Which how unlike it is, you see! and hence,

  With that pretext he’s gone, to accuse his father,

  Defame my patron, defeat you—

  VOLT. Where is her husband?

  Let him be sent for straight.

  MOS. Sir, I’ll go fetch him.

  VOLT. Bring him to the Scrutineo.103

  MOS. Sir, I will.

  VOLT. This must be stopped.

  MOS. O you do nobly, sir.

  Alas, ’twas labored all, sir, for your good;

  Nor was there want of counsel in the plot:

  But fortune can, at any time, o’erthrow

  The projects of a hundred learned clerks, sir.

  CORB. [Listening] What’s that?

  VOLT. Will’t please you, sir, to go along?

  Exit Corbaccio, followed by Voltore

  MOS. Patron, go in, and pray for our success.

  VOLP. [Rising from his couch] Need makes devotion: heaven your labor bless!

  Exeunt

  ACT IV, SCENE I

  Enter Sir Politick Would-be and Peregrine

  SIR P. I told you, sir, it was a plot; you see

  What observation is! You mentioned me

  For some instructions: I will tell you, sir,

  (Since we are met here in the height of Venice,)

  Some few particulars I have set down,

  Only for this meridian, fit to be known

  Of your crude104 traveller; and they are these.

  I will not touch, sir, at your phrase, or clothes,

  For they are old.

  PER. Sir, I have better.

  SIR P. Pardon,

  I meant, as they are themes.

  PER. O, sir, proceed:

  I’ll slander you no more of wit, good sir.

  SIR P. First, for your garb, it must be grave and serious,

  Very reserved and locked; not tell a secret

  On any terms, not to your father; scarce

  A fable, but with caution: made sure choice

  Both of your company, and discourse; beware

  You never speak a truth—

  PER. How!

  SIR P. Not to strangers,

  For those be they you must converse with most;

  Others I would not know, sir, but at distance,

  So as I still might be a saver in them:105

  You shall have tricks else past upon you hourly.

  And then, for your religion, profess none,

  But wonder at the diversity, of all:

  And, for your part, protest, were there no other

  But simply the laws o’ the land, you could content you,

  Nic. Machiavel, and Monsieur Bodin,106 both

  Were of this mind. Then must you learn the use

  And handling of your silver fork107 at meals,

  The metal of your glass; (these are main matters

  With your Italian;) and to know the hour

  When you must eat your melons, and your figs.

  PER. IS that a point of state too?

  SIR P. Here it is:

  For your Venetian, if he see a man

  Preposterous in the least, he has him straight;

  He has; he strips him. I’ll acquaint you, sir,

  I now have lived here, ’tis some fourteen months

  Within the first week of my landing here,

  All took me for a citizen of Venice,

  I knew the forms so well—

  PER. [Aside] And nothing else.

  SIR P. I had read Contarene,108 took me a house,

  Dealt with my Jews to furnish it with moveables—

  Well, if I could but find one man, one man

  To mine own heart, whom I durst trust, I would—

  PER. What, what, sir?

  SIR P. Make him rich; make him a fortune:

  He should not think again. I would command it.

  PER. As how?

  SIR P. With certain projects that I have;

  Which I may not discover.

  PER. [Aside] If I had

  But one to wager with, I would lay odds now,

  He tells me instantly.

  SIR P. One is, and that

  I care not greatly who knows, to serve the state

  Of Venice with red herrings for three years,

  And at a certain rate, from Rotterdam,

  Where I have correspondence. There’s a letter,

  Sent me from one o’ the states, and to that purpose:

  He cannot write his name, but that’s his mark.

  PER. He is a chandler?

  SIR P. No, a cheesemonger.

  There are some others too with whom I treat

  About the same negotiation;

  And I will undertake it: for, ’tis thus.

  I’ll do’t with ease, I have cast it all: Your hoy109

  Carries but three men in her, and a boy;

  And she shall make me three returns a year:

  So, if there come but one of three, I save;

  If two, I can defalk:110—but this is now,

  If my main project fail.

  PER. Then you have others?

  SIR P. I should be loath to draw the subtle air

  Of such a place, without my thousand aims.

  I’ll not dissemble, sir: where’er I come,

  I love to be considera
tive; and ’tis true,

  I have at my free hours thought upon

  Some certain goods unto the state of Venice,

  Which I do call my Cautions; and, sir, which

  I mean, in hope of pension, to propound

  To the Great Council, then unto the Forty,

  So to the Ten.111 My means are made already—

  PER. By whom?

  SIR P. Sir, one that, though his place be obscure,

  Yet he can sway, and they will hear him. He’s

  A commandador.

  PER. What! a common serjeant?

  SIR P. Sir, such as they are, put it in their mouths,

  What they should say, sometimes as well as greater:

  I think I have my notes to show you—[Searching his pockets]

  PER. Good sir.

  SIR P. But you shall swear unto me, on your gentry,

  Not to anticipate—

  PER. I, sir!

  SIR P. Nor reveal

  A circumstance—My paper is not with me.

  PER. O, but you can remember, sir.

  SIR P. My first is

  Concerning tinder-boxes. You must know,

  No family is here without its box.

  Now, sir, it being so portable a thing,

  Put case, that you or I were ill affected

  Unto the state, sir; with it in our pockets,

  Might not I go into the Arsenal,112

  Or you, come out again, and none the wiser?

  PER. Except yourself, sir.

  SIR P. Go to, then. I therefore

  Advertise to the state, how fit it were,

  That none but such as were known patriots,

  Sound lovers of their country, should be suffered

  To enjoy them in their houses; and even those

  Sealed at some office, and at such a bigness

  As might not lurk in pockets.

  PER. Admirable!

  SIR P. My next is, how to enquire, and be resolved,

  By present demonstration, whether a ship,

  Newly arrived from Syria, or from

  Any suspected part of all the Levant,

  Be guilty of the plague: and where they use

  To lie out forty, fifty days, sometimes,

  About the Lazaretto, for their trial,113

  I’ll save that charge and loss unto the merchant,

  And in an hour clear the doubt.

  PER. Indeed, sir!

  SIR P. Or—I will lose my labor.

  PER. ’My faith, that’s much.

  SIR P. Nay, sir, conceive me. It will cost me in onions,114

  Some thirty livres—

  PER. Which is one pound sterling.

  SIR P. Beside my water-works: for this I do, sir.

  First, I bring in your ship ’twixt two brick walls;

  But those the state shall venture: On the one

  I strain me a fair tarpaulin, and in that

  I stick my onions, cut in halves: the other

  Is full of loop-holes, out at which I thrust