The Duchess of Malfi

by Frank Kermode

  Saw you my lord and father?

  3RD NOBLE. Not since two hours before noon, my lord,

  And then he privately rode forth.

  LUS. O, he’s rid forth.

  1ST NOBLE. ’Twas wondrous privately.123

  2ND NOBLE. There’s none i’ th’ court had any knowledge on’t.

  LUS. His grace is old and sudden: ’tis no treason

  To say the duke, my father, has a humor,

  Or such a toy about him; what in us

  Would appear light, in him seems virtuous.

  3RD NOBLE. ’Tis oracle, my lord.

  Exeunt

  SCENE II

  Enter Vendice, out of his disguise, and Hippolito

  HIP. So, so, all’s as it should be, y’are yourself.

  VEN. How that great villain puts me to my shifts!

  HIP. He that did lately in disguise reject thee,

  Shall, now thou art thyself, as much respect thee.

  VEN. ’Twill be the quainter fallacy.124 But, brother,

  ’Sfoot, what use will he put me to now, think’st thou?

  HIP. Nay, you must pardon me in that: I know not.

  He has some employment for you: but what ’tis,

  He and his secretary, the devil, know best.

  VEN. Well, I must suit my tongue to his desires,

  What color soe’er they be; hoping at last

  To pile up all my wishes on his breast.

  HIP. Faith, brother, he himself shows the way.

  VEN. Now the duke is dead, the realm is clad in clay.

  His death being not yet known, under his name

  The people still are governed. Well, thou his son

  Art not long-lived: thou shalt not joy his death.

  To kill thee, then, I should most honor thee;

  For ’twould stand firm in every man’s belief,

  Thou’st125 a kind child, and only died’st with grief.

  HIP. You fetch about well;126 but let’s talk in present.127

  How will you appear in fashion different,

  As well as in apparel, to make all things possible?

  If you be but once tripped, we fall for ever.

  It is not the least policy to be doubtful;128

  You must change tongue: familiar was your first.

  VEN. Why, I’ll bear me in some strain of melancholy,

  And string myself with heavy-sounding wire,

  Like such an instrument, that speaks merry things sadly.

  HIP. Then ’tis as I meant;

  I gave you out at first in discontent.

  VEN. I’ll tune myself, and then—

  HIP. ’Sfoot, here he comes. Hast thought upon’t?

  VEN. Salute him; fear not me.129Enter Lussurioso

  LUS. Hippolito!

  HIP. Your lordship—

  LUS. What’s he yonder?

  HIP. ’Tis Vendice, my discontented brother,

  Whom, ’cording to your will, I’ve brought to court.

  LUS. IS that thy brother? Beshrew me, a good presence;

  I wonder he has been from the court so long.

  Come nearer.

  HIP. Brother! Lord Lussurioso, the duke’s son.

  LUS. Be more near to us; welcome; nearer yet.

  VEN. How don you? gi’ you good den.130

  [Takes off his hat and bows]

  LUS. We thank thee.

  How strangely such a coarse homely salute

  Shows in the palace, where we greet in fire,

  Nimble and desperate tongues! should we name

  God in a salutation, ’twould ne’er be stood on’t;131—Heaven!

  Tell me, what has made thee so melancholy?

  VEN. Why, going to law.

  LUS. Why, will that make a man melancholy?

  VEN. Yes, to look long upon ink and black buckram. I went me to law in anno quadragesimo secundo, and I waded out of it in anno sexagesimo tertio.132

  LUS. What, three-and-twenty years in law?

  VEN. I have known those that have been five-and-fifty, and all about pullen133 and pigs.

  LUS. May it be possible such men should breathe,

  To vex the terms134 so much?

  VEN. ’Tis food to some, my lord. There are old men at the present, that are so poisoned with the affectation of law-words (having had many suits canvassed), that their common talk is nothing but Barbary135 Latin. They cannot so much as pray but in law, that their sins may be removed with a writ of error, and their souls fetched up to Heaven with a sasarara.136

  LUS. It seems most strange to me;

  Yet all the world meets round in the same bent:

  Where the heart’s set, there goes the tongue’s consent.

  How dost apply thy studies, fellow?

  VEN. Study? why, to think how a great rich man lies a-dying, and a poor cobbler tolls the bell for him. How he cannot depart the world, and see the great chest stand before him; when he lies speechless, how he will point you readily to all the boxes; and when he is past all memory, as the gossips guess, then thinks he of forfeitures and obligations; nay, when to all men’s hearings he whurls and rattles137 in the throat, he’s busy threatening his poor tenants. And this would last me now some seven years’ thinking, or thereabouts. But I have a conceit a-coming in picture upon this; I draw it myself, which, i’faith, la, I’ll present to your honor; you shall not choose but like it, for your honor shall give me nothing for it.

  LUS. Nay, you mistake me, then,

  For I am published bountiful enough.

  Let’s taste of your conceit.

  VEN. In picture, my Lord?

  LUS. Ay, in picture.

  VEN. Marry, this it is—“A usuring father to be boiling in hell, and his son and heir with a whore dancing over him.”

  HIP. [Aside] He has pared him to the quick.

  LUS. The conceit’s pretty, i’faith;

  But, take’t upon my life, ’twill ne’er be liked.

  VEN. NO? why I’m sure the whore will be liked well enough.

  HIP. [Aside] Aye, if she were out o’ the picture, he’d like her then himself.

  VEN. And as for the son and heir, he shall be an eyesore to no young revellers, for he shall be drawn in cloth-of-gold breeches.

  LUS. And thou hast put my meaning in the pockets,

  And canst not draw that out? My thought was this:

  To see the picture of a usuring father

  Boiling in hell—our rich men would never like it.

  VEN. O, true, I cry you heartily mercy,

  I know the reason, for some of them had rather

  Be damned in deed than damned in colors.

  LUS. [Aside] A parlous melancholy! he was wit enough

  To murder any man, and I’ll give him means.

  I think thou art ill-moneyed?

  VEN. Money! ho, ho!

  ’T has been my want so long, ’tis now my scoff:

  I’ve e’en forgot what color silver’s of.

  Lus. [Aside] It hits as I could wish.

  VEN. I get good clothes

  Of those that dread my humor; and for table-room

  I feed on those that cannot be rid of me.

  LUS. Somewhat to set thee up withal.

  [Gives him money]

  VEN. O mine eyes!

  LUS. How now, man?

  VEN. Almost struck blind;

  This bright unusual shine to me seems proud;

  I dare not look till the sun be in a cloud.

  LUS. I think I shall affect138 his melancholy,

  How are they now?

  VEN. The better for your asking.

  LUS. You shall be better yet, if you but fasten

  Truly on my intent. Now y’are both present,

  I will unbrace such a close private villain

  Unto your vengeful swords, the like ne’er heard of,

  Who hath disgraced you much, and injured us.

  HIP. Disgraced us, my lord?

  LUS. Ay, Hippolito.

  I kept it her
e till now, that both your angers

  Might meet him at once.

  VEN. I’m covetous

  To know the villain.

  LUS. You know him: that slave-pander,

  Piato, whom we threatened last

  With irons in perpetual ’prisonment.

  VEN. [Aside] All this is I.

  HIP. Is’t he, my lord?

  LUS. I’ll tell you; you first preferred him to me.

  VEN. Did you, brother?

  HIP. I did indeed.

  LUS. And the ungrateful villain,

  To quit139 that kindness, strongly wrought with me—

  Being, as you see, a likely man for pleasure—

  With jewels to corrupt your virgin sister.

  HIP. O villain!

  VEN. He shall surely die that did it.

  LUS. I, far from thinking any virgin harm,

  Especially knowing her to be as chaste

  As that part which scarce suffers to be touched—

  The eye—would not endure him.

  VEN. Would you not, my lord?

  ’Twas wondrous honorably done.

  LUS. But with some fine frowns kept him out.

  VEN. Out, slave!

  LUS. What did me he, but in revenge of that,

  Went of his own free will to make infirm

  Your sister’s honor (whom I honor with my soul

  For chaste respect) and not prevailing there

  (As ’twas but desperate folly to attempt it),

  In mere spleen, by the way, waylays your mother,

  Whose honor being a coward as it seems,

  Yielded by little force.

  VEN. Coward indeed!

  LUS. He, proud of this advantage (as he thought),

  Brought me this news for happy. But I, Heaven forgive me for’t—

  VEN. What did your honor?

  LUS. In rage pushed him from me,

  Trampled beneath his throat, spurned him, and bruised:

  Indeed I was too cruel, to say troth.

  HIP. Most nobly managed!

  VEN. [Aside] Has not Heaven an ear? is all the lightning wasted?

  LUS. If I now were so impatient in a modest cause,

  What should you be?

  VEN. Full mad: he shall not live

  To see the moon change.

  LUS. He’s about the palace;

  Hippolito, entice him this way, that thy brother

  May take full mark of him.

  HIP. Heart! that shall not need, my lord:

  I can direct him so far.

  LUS. Yet for my hate’s sake,

  Go, wind him this way. I’ll see him bleed myself.

  HIP. [Aside] What now, brother?

  VEN. [Aside] Nay, e’en what you will—y’are put to’t, brother.

  HIP. [Aside] An impossible task, I’ll swear,

  To bring him hither, that’s already here.

  Exit

  LUS. Thy name? I have forgot it.

  VEN. Vendice, my lord.

  LUS. ’Tis a good name that.

  VEN. Ay, a revenger.

  LUS. It does betoken courage; thou shouldst be valiant,

  And kill thine enemies.

  VEN. That’s my hope, my lord.

  LUS. This slave is one.

  VEN. I’ll doom him.

  LUS. Then I’ll praise thee.

  Do thou observe me best, and I’ll best raise thee.

  Re-enter Hippolito

  VEN. Indeed, I thank you.

  LUS. Now, Hippolito, where’s the slave-pander?

  HIP. Your good lordship

  Would have a loathsome sight of him, much offensive.

  He’s not in case now to be seen, my lord.

  The worst of all the deadly sins is in him—

  That beggarly damnation, drunkenness.

  LUS. Then he’s a double slave.

  VEN. [Aside] ’Twas well conveyed upon a sudden wit.

  LUS. What, are you both

  Firmly resolved? I’ll see him dead myself.

  VEN. Or else let not us live.

  LUS. You may direct your brother to take note of him.

  HIP. I shall.

  LUS. Rise but in this, and you shall never fall.

  VEN. Your honor’s vassals.

  Lus. [Aside] This was wisely carried.

  Deep policy in use makes fools of such:

  Then must a slave die, when he knows too much.

  Exit

  VEN. O thou almighty patience! ’tis my wonder

  That such a fellow, impudent and wicked,

  Should not be cloven as he stood;

  Or with a secret wind burst open!

  Is there no thunder left: or is’t kept up

  In stock for heavier vengeance? [Thunder] there it goes!

  HIP. Brother, we lose ourselves.

  VEN. But I have found it;

  ’Twill hold, ’tis sure; thanks, thanks to any spirit,

  That mingled it ’mongst my inventions.

  HIP. What is’t?

  VEN. ’Tis sound and good; thou shalt partake it;

  I’m hired to kill myself.

  HIP. True.

  VEN. Prithee, mark it;

  And the old duke being dead, but not conveyed,140

  For he’s already missed too, and you know

  Murder will peep out of the closest husk—

  HIP. Most true.

  VEN. What say you then to this device?

  If we dressed up the body of the duke?

  HIP. In that disguise of yours?

  VEN. Y’are quick, y’ have reached it.

  HIP. I like it wondrously.

  VEN. And being in drink, as you have published him.

  To lean him on his elbow, as if sleep had caught him

  Which claims most interest in such sluggy men?

  HIP. Good yet; but here’s a doubt;

  We, thought by the duke’s son to kill that pander,

  Shall, when he is known, be thought to kill the duke.

  VEN. Neither, O thanks! it is substantial:

  For that disguise being on him which I wore,

  It will be thought I, which he calls the pander, did kill the duke,

  and fled away in his apparel, leaving him so disguised to avoid

  swift pursuit.

  HIP. Firmer and firmer.

  VEN. Nay, doubt not, ’tis in grain: I warrant it holds color.

  HIP. Let’s about it.

  VEN. By the way, too, now I think on’t, brother,

  Let’s conjure that base devil out of our mother.

  Exeunt

  SCENE III

  Enter the Duchess, arm in arm with Spurio, looking lasciviously on her. After them, enter Supervacuo, with a rapier, running; Ambitioso stops him

  SPU. Madam, unlock yourself;

  Should it be seen, your arm would be suspected.

  DUCH. Who is’t that dares suspect or this or these?

  May not we deal our favors where we please?

  SPU. I’m confident you may.

  Exeunt Duchess and Spurio

  AMB. ’Sfoot, brother, hold.

  SUP. Wouldst let the bastard shame us?

  AMB. Hold, hold, brother! there’s fitter time than now.

  SUP. Now, when I see it!

  AMB. ’Tis too much seen already.

  SUP. Seen and known;

  The nobler she’s, the baser is she grown.

  AMB. If she were bent lasciviously (the fault

  Of mighty women, that sleep soft)—O death!

  Must she needs choose such an unequal sinner,

  To make all worse?—

  SUP. A bastard! the duke’s bastard! shame heaped on shame!

  AMB. O our disgrace!

  Most women have small waists the world throughout;

  But their desires are thousand miles about.

  SUP. Come, stay not here, let’s after, and prevent,

  Or else they’ll sin faster than we’ll repent.

  Exeunt


  SCENE IV

  Enter Vendice and Hippolito, bringing out Gratiana by the shoulders, and with daggers in their hands

  VEN. O thou, for whom no name is bad enough!

  GRA. What mean my sons? what, will you murder me?

  VEN. Wicked, unnatural parent!

  HIP. Fiend of women!

  GRA. O! are sons turned monsters? help!

  VEN. In vain.

  GRA. Are you so barbarous to set iron nipples

  Upon the breast that gave you suck?

  VEN. That breast

  Is turned to quarled141 poison.

  GRA. Cut not your days for’t! am not I your mother?

  VEN. Thou dost usurp that title now by fraud,

  For in that shell of mother breeds a bawd.

  GRA. A bawd! O name far loathsomer than hell!

  HIP. It should be so, knew’st thou thy office well.

  GRA. I hate it.

  VEN. Ah! is’t possible? thou only? Powers on high,

  That women should dissemble when they die!

  GRA. Dissemble!

  VEN. Did not the duke’s son direct

  A fellow of the world’s condition hither,

  That did corrupt all that was good in thee?

  Made thee uncivilly forget thyself,

  And work our sister to his lust?

  GRA. Who, I?

  That had been monstrous. I defy that man

  For any such intent! none lives so pure,

  But shall be soiled with slander. Good son, believe it not.

  VEN. [Aside] O, I’m in doubt,

  Whether I am myself, or no—

  Stay, let me look again upon this face.

  Who shall be saved, when mothers have no grace?

  HIP. ’Twould make one half142 despair.

  VEN. I was the man.

  Defy me now; let’s see, do’t modestly.

  GRA. O hell unto my soul!

  VEN. In that disguise, I, sent from the duke’s son,

  Tried you, and found you base metal,

  As any villain might have done.

  GRA. O, no,

  No tongue but yours could have bewitched me so.

  VEN. O nimble in damnation, quick in tune!

  There is no devil could strike fire so soon:

  I am confuted in a word.

  GRA. O sons, forgive me! to myself I’ll prove more true;

  You that should honor me, I kneel to you.

  [Kneels and weeps]

  VEN. A mother to give aim to143 her own daughter!

  HIP. True, brother; how far beyond nature ’tis.

  VEN. Nay, an144 you draw tears once, go you to bed;

  We will make iron blush and change to red.

  Brother, it rains. ’Twill spoil your dagger: house it.

  HIP. ’Tis done.