The Duchess of Malfi

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by Frank Kermode


  In safety is mine enemy for ever.

  MEL. I thank thee, Diphilus. But thou art faulty:

  I sent for thee to exercise thine arms

  With me at Patria; thou cam’st not, Diphilus;

  ’Twas ill.

  DIPH. My noble brother, my excuse

  Is my King’s strict command,—which you, my lord,

  Can witness with me.

  LYS. ’Tis most true, Melantius;

  He might not come till the solemnities

  Of this great match were past.

  DIPH. Have you heard of it?

  MEL. Yes, and have given cause to those that here

  Envy my deeds abroad to call me gamesome;

  I have no other business here at Rhodes.

  LYS. We have a masque to-night, and you must tread

  A soldier’s measure.1

  MEL. Those soft and silken wars are not for me:

  The music must be shrill and all confused

  That stirs my blood; and then I dance with arms.

  But is Amintor wed?

  DIPH. This day.

  MEL. All joys upon him! for he is my friend.

  Wonder not that I call a man so young my friend:

  His worth is great; valiant he is and temperate;

  And one that never thinks his life his own,

  If his friend need it. When he was a boy,

  As oft as I returned (as, without boast,

  I brought home conquest), he would gaze upon me

  And view me round, to find in what one limb

  The virtue lay to do those things he heard;

  Then would he wish to see my sword, and feel

  The quickness of the edge, and in his hand

  Weigh it: he oft would make me smile at this.

  His youth did promise much, and his ripe years

  Will see it all performed.—

  Enter Aspatia, passing by

  Hail, maid and wife!

  Thou fair Aspatia, may the holy knot,

  That thou hast tied to-day, last till the hand

  Of age undo it! may’st thou bring a race

  Unto Amintor, that may fill the world

  Successively with soldiers!

  ASP. My hard fortunes

  Deserve not scorn, for I was never proud

  When they were good.

  Exit Aspatia

  MEL. How’s this?

  LYS. You are mistaken, sir; she is not married.

  MEL. You said Amintor was.

  DIPH. ’Tis true; but—

  MEL. Pardon me; I did receive

  Letters at Patria from my Amintor,

  That he should marry her.

  DIPH. And so it stood

  In all opinion long; but your arrival

  Made me imagine you had heard the change.

  MEL. Who hath he taken then?

  LYS. A lady, sir,

  That bears the light above her,2 and strikes dead

  With flashes of her eye; the fair Evadne,

  Your virtuous sister.

  MEL. Peace of heart betwixt them!

  But this is strange.

  LYS. The King, my brother, did it

  To honor you; and these solemnities

  Are at his charge.

  MEL. ’Tis royal, like himself. But I am sad

  My speech bears so unfortunate a sound

  To beautiful Aspatia. There is rage

  Hid in her father’s breast, Calianax,

  Bent long against me; and he should not think,

  Could I but call it back, that I would take

  So base revenges, as to scorn the state

  Of his neglected daughter. Holds he still

  His greatness with the King?

  LYS. Yes. But this lady

  Walks discontented, with her watery eyes

  Bent on the earth. The unfrequented woods

  Are her delight; where, when she sees a bank

  Stuck full of flowers, she with a sigh will tell

  Her servants what a pretty place it were

  To bury lovers in; and make her maids

  Pluck ’em, and strow her over like a corse.3

  She carries with her an infectious grief,

  That strikes all her beholders: she will sing

  The mournful’st things that ever ear hath heard,

  And sigh, and sing again; and when the rest

  Of our young ladies, in their wanton blood,

  Tell mirthful tales in course,4 that fill the room

  With laughter, she will, with so sad a look,

  Bring forth a story of the silent death

  Of some forsaken virgin, which her grief

  Will put in such a phrase, that, ere she end,

  she’ll send them weeping one by one away.

  MEL. She has a brother under my command,

  Like her; a face as womanish as hers;

  But with a spirit that hath much outgrown

  The number of his years.

  Enter Amintor

  CLE. My lord the bridegroom.

  MEL. I might run fiercely, not more hastily,

  Upon my foe. I love thee well, Amintor;

  My mouth is much too narrow for my heart;

  I joy to look upon those eyes of thine;

  Thou art my friend, but my disordered speech

  Cuts off my love.

  AMIN. Thou art Melantius;

  All love is spoke in that. A sacrifice,

  To thank the gods Melantius is returned

  In safety! Victory sits on his sword,

  As she was wont: may she build there and dwell;

  And may thy armor be, as it hath been,

  Only thy valor and thine innocence!

  What endless treasures would our enemies give,

  That I might hold thee still thus!

  MEL. I am poor

  In words; but credit me, young man, thy mother

  Could do no more but weep for joy to see thee

  After long absence: all the wounds I gave

  Fetched not so much away, nor all the cries

  Of widowed mothers. But this is peace,

  And that was war.

  AMIN. Pardon, thou holy god

  Of marriage-bed, and frown not, I am forced,

  In answer of such noble tears as those,

  To weep upon my wedding-day!

  MEL. I fear thou art grown too fickle; for I hear

  A lady mourns for thee; men say, to death;

  Forsaken of thee; on what terms I know not.

  AMIN. She had my promise; but the King forbade it,

  And made me make this worthy change, thy sister,

  Accompanied with graces [far] above her;

  With whom I long to lose my lusty youth,

  And grow old in her arms.

  MEL. Be prosperous!

  Enter Messenger

  MESS. My lord, the masquers rage for you.

  LYS. We are gone.—

  Cleon, Strato, Diphilus!

  AMIN. We’ll all attend you.—

  Exeunt Lysippus, Cleon, Strato, Diphilus

  We shall trouble you

  With our solemnities.

  MEL. Not so, Amintor:

  But if you laugh at my rude carriage

  In peace, I’ll do as much for you in war,

  When you come thither. Yet I have a mistress

  To bring to your delights; rough though I am,

  I have a mistress, and she has a heart

  She says; but, trust me, it is stone, no better;

  There is no place that I can challenge in’t.

  But you stand still, and here my way lies.

  Exeunt

  SCENE II

  Enter Calianax with Diagoras

  CAL. Diagoras, look to the doors better, for shame! you let in all the world, and anon the King will rail at me. Why, very well said. By Jove, the King will have the show i’ th’ court.

  DIAG. Why do you swear so, my lord? you know he’ll have it here.

&
nbsp; CAL. By this light, if he be wise, he will not.

  DIAG. And if he will not be wise, you are forsworn.

  CAL. One must sweat his heart out with swearing, and get thanks on no side. I’ll be gone, look to’t who will.

  DIAG. My lord, I shall never keep them out. Pray, stay; your looks will terrify them.

  CAL. My looks terrify them, you coxcombly ass, you! I’ll be judged by all the company whether thou hast not a worse face than I.

  DIAG. I mean, because they know you and your office.

  CAL. Office! I would I could put it off! I am sure I sweat quite through my office. I might have made room at my daughter’s wedding: they ha’ near killed her amongst them; and now I must do service for him that hath forsaken her. Serve that will!

  Exit Calianax

  DIAG. He’s so humorous5 since his daughter was forsaken! [Knock within] Hark, hark! there, there! so, so! codes, codes!6 What now?

  MEL. [Within] Open the door.

  DIAG. Who’s there?

  MEL. [Within] Melantius.

  DIAG. I hope your lordship brings no troop with you; for, if you do, I must return them.7

  [Opens the door]

  Enter Melantius and a Lady

  MEL. None but this lady, sir.

  DIAG. The ladies are all placed above, save those that come in the King’s troop: the best of Rhodes sit there, and there’s room.

  MEL. I thank you, sir.—When I have seen you placed, madam, I must attend the King; but, the masque done, I’ll wait on you again.

  DIAG. [Opening another door] Stand back there!—Room for my lord Melantius! [Exeunt Melantius, Lady, other door]—Pray, bear back— this is no place for such youths and their trulls—let the doors shut again.—No!—do your heads itch? I’ll scratch them for you. [Shuts the door]—So, now thrust and hang. [Knocking within]—Again! who is’t now?—I cannot blame my lord Calianax for going away: would he were here! he would run raging among them, and break a dozen wiser heads than his own in the twinkling of an eye.—What’s the news now?

  [Within] I pray you, can you help me to the speech of the mastercook?

  DIAG. If I open the door, I’ll cook some of your calves-heads. Peace, rogues! [Knocking within]—Again! who is’t?

  MEL. [Within] Melantius.

  Enter Calianax to Melantius

  CAL. Let him not in.

  DIAG. O, my lord, a’ must.—Make room there for my lord!

  Is your lady placed?

  MEL. Yes, sir, I thank you.—

  My lord Calianax, well met:

  Your causeless hate to me I hope is burièd.

  CAL. Yes, I do service for your sister here,

  That brings my own poor child to timeless death:

  She loves your friend Amintor; such another

  False-hearted lord as you.

  MEL. You do me wrong,

  A most unmanly one, and I am slow

  In taking vengeance; but be well advised.

  CAL. It may be so.—Who placed the lady there,

  So near the presence of the King?

  MEL. I did.

  CAL. My lord, she must not sit there.

  MEL. Why?

  CAL. The place

  Is kept for women of more worth.

  MEL. More worth than she! It misbecomes your age

  And place to be thus womanish: forbear!

  What you have spoke, I am content to think

  The palsy shook your tongue to.

  CAL. Why, ’tis well:

  If I stand here to place men’s wenches—

  MEL. I

  Shall quite forget this place, thy age, my safety,

  And, through all, cut that poor sickly week

  Thou hast to live away from thee!

  CAL. Nay, I know you can fight for your whore.

  MEL. Bate me the King,8 and, be he flesh and blood,

  A’ lies that says it! Thy mother at fifteen

  Was black and sinful to her.

  DIAG. Good my lord—

  MEL. Some god pluck threescore years from that fond9 man,

  That I may kill him, and not stain mine honor!

  It is the curse of soldiers, that in peace

  They shall be braved by such ignoble men,

  As, if the land were troubled, would with tears

  And knees beg succor from ’em. Would the blood,

  That sea of blood, that I have lost in fight,

  Were running in thy veins, that it might make thee

  Apt to say less, or able to maintain,

  Should’st thou say more! This Rhodes, I see, is nought

  But a place privileged to do men wrong.

  CAL. Ay, you may say your pleasure.

  Enter Amintor

  AMIN. What vile injury

  Has stirred my worthy friend, who is as slow

  To fight with words as he is quick of hand?

  MEL. That heap of age, which I should reverence

  If it were temperate; but testy years

  Are most contemptible.

  AMIN. Good sir, forbear.

  CAL. There is just such another as yourself.

  AMIN. He will wrong you, or me, or any man,

  And talk as if he had no life to lose,

  Since this our match. The King is coming in;

  I would not for more wealth than I enjoy

  He should perceive you raging: he did hear

  You were at difference now, which hastened him.

  CAL. Make room there!

  [Hautboys play within]

  Enter King, Evadne, Aspatia, Lords, and Ladies

  KING. Melantius, thou art welcome, and my love

  Is with thee still: but this is not a place

  To brabble10 in.—Calianax, join hands.

  CAL. He shall not have mine hand.

  KING. This is no time

  To force you to’t. I do love you both:—

  Calianax, you look well to your office;—

  And you, Melantius, are welcome home.—

  Begin the masque.

  MEL. Sister, I joy to see you and your choice;

  You looked with my eyes when you took that man:

  Be happy in him!

  [Recorders11 play]

  EVAD. O, my dearest brother,

  Your presence is more joyful than this day

  Can be unto me!

  THE MASQUE

  Night rises in mists

  NIGHT. Our reign is come; for in the quenching sea

  The sun is drowned, and with him fell the Day.

  Bright Cynthia, hear my voice! I am the Night,

  For whom thou bear’st about thy borrowed light:

  Appear! no longer thy pale visage shroud,

  But strike thy silver horns quite through a cloud,

  And send a beam upon my swarthy face,

  By which I may discover all the place

  And persons, and how many longing eyes

  Are come to wait on our solemnities.

  Enter Cynthia

  How dull and black am I! I could not find

  This beauty without thee, I am so blind:

  Methinks they show like to those eastern streaks,

  That warn us hence before the morning breaks.

  Back, my pale servant! for these eyes know how

  To shoot far more and quicker rays than thou.

  CYNTH. Great queen, they be a troop for whom alone

  One of my clearest moons I have put on;

  A troop, that looks as if thyself and I

  Had plucked our reins in and our whips laid by,

  To gaze upon these mortals, that appear

  Brighter than we.

  NIGHT. Then let us keep ’em here;

  And never more our chariots drive away,

  But hold our places and outshine the Day.

  CYNTH. Great queen of shadows, you are pleased to speak

  Of more than may be done: we may not break

  The gods’ decrees; but, when our time is come,

&nb
sp; Must drive away, and give the Day our room.

  Yet, whilst our reign lasts, let us stretch our power

  To give our servants one contented hour,

  With such unwonted solemn grace and state,

  As may for ever after force them hate

  Our brother’s glorious beams, and wish the Night

  Crowned with a thousand stars and our cold light:

  For almost all the world their service bend

  To Phœbus, and in vain my light I lend,

  Gazed on unto my setting from my rise

  Almost of none but of unquiet eyes.

  NIGHT. Then shine at full, fair queen, and by thy power

  Produce a birth, to crown this happy hour,

  Of nymphs and shepherds; let their songs discover,

  Easy and sweet, who is a happy lover;

  Or, if thou woo’t, thine own Endymion

  From the sweet flowery bank he lies upon,

  On Latmus’ brow, thy pale beams drawn away,

  And of his long night let him make this day.

  CYNTH. Thou dream’st, dark queen; that fair boy was not mine,

  Nor went I down to kiss him. Ease and wine

  Have bred these bold tales: poets, when they rage,

  Turn gods to men, and make an hour an age.

  But I will give a greater state and glory,

  And raise to time a nobler memory

  Of what these lovers are.—Rise, rise, I say,

  Thou power of deeps, thy surges laid away,

  Neptune, great king of waters, and by me

  Be proud to be commanded!

  Neptune rises

  NEPT. Cynthia, see,

  Thy word hath fetched me hither: let me know

  Why I ascend.

  CYNTH. Doth this majestic show

  Give thee no knowledge yet?

  NEPT. Yes, now I see

  Something intended, Cynthia, worthy thee.

  Go on; I’ll be a helper.

  CYNTH. Hie thee, then,

  And charge the Wind fly from his rocky den,

  Let loose his subjects; only Boreas,

  Too foul for our intention, as he was,

  Still keep him fast chained: we must have none here

  But vernal blasts and gentle winds appear,

  Such as blow flowers, and through the glad boughs sing

  Many soft welcomes to the lusty spring;

  These are our music; next, thy watery race

  Bring on in couples; we are pleased to grace

  This noble night, each in their richest things

  Your own deeps or the broken vessel brings:

  Be prodigal, and I shall be as kind

  And shine at full upon you.

  NEPT. Ho, the wind

  Commanding Æolus!

  Enter Æolus out of a Rock

 

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