The Duchess of Malfi

by Frank Kermode

  Or told my friend ’a lied, ere soothed41 him so.

  Out of my bosom!

  AMIN. But there is nothing.

  MEL. Worse and worse! farewell:

  From this time have acquaintance, but no friend.

  AMIN. Melantius, stay: you shall know what that is.

  MEL. See, how you played with friendship! be advised

  How you give cause unto yourself to say

  You ha’ lost a friend.

  AMIN. Forgive what I ha’ done;

  For I am so o’ergone with injuries

  Unheard of, that I lose consideration

  Of what I ought to do,—O!—O!

  MEL. Do not weep. What is’t?

  May I once but know the man

  Hath turned my friend thus!

  AMIN. I had spoke at first,

  But that—

  MEL. But what?

  AMIN. I held it most unfit

  For you to know. Faith, do not know it yet.

  MEL. Thou see’st my love, that will keep company

  With thee in tears; hide nothing, then, from me;

  For when I know the cause of thy distemper,

  With mine old armor I’ll adorn myself,

  My resolution, and cut through thy foes,

  Unto thy quiet, till I place thy heart

  As peaceable as spotless innocence.

  What is it?

  AMIN. Why, ’tis this—it is too big

  To get out—let my tears make way awhile.

  MEL. Punish me strangely, heaven, if he scape

  Of life or fame, that brought this youth to this!

  AMIN. Your sister—

  MEL. Well said.

  AMIN. You’ll wish’t unknown, when you have heard it.

  MEL. No.

  AMIN. Is much to blame,

  And to the King has given her honor up,

  And lives in whoredom with him.

  MEL. How is this?

  Thou art run mad with injury indeed;

  Thou couldst not utter this else. Speak again;

  For I forgive it freely; tell thy griefs.

  AMIN. She’s wanton: I am loath to say, a whore,

  Though it be true.

  MEL. Speak yet again, before mine anger grow

  Up beyond throwing down: what are thy griefs?

  AMIN. By all our friendship, these.

  MEL. What, am I tame?

  After mine actions, shall the name of friend

  Blot all our family, and strike the brand

  Of whore upon my sister, unrevenged?

  My shaking flesh, be thou a witness for me,

  With what unwillingness I go to scourge

  This railer, whom my folly hath called friend!—

  I will not take thee basely: thy sword

  [Draws his sword]

  Hangs near thy hand; draw it, that I may whip

  Thy rashness to repentance; draw thy sword!

  AMIN. Not on thee, did thine anger swell as high

  As the wild surges. Thou shouldst do me ease

  Here and eternally, if thy noble hand

  Would cut me from my sorrows.

  MEL. This is base

  And fearful. They that use to utter lies

  Provide not blows but words to qualify42

  The men they wronged. Thou hast a guilty cause.

  AMIN. Thou pleasest me; for so much more like this

  Will raise my anger up above my griefs,

  (Which is a passion easier to be borne,)

  And I shall then be happy.

  MEL. Take, then, more

  To raise thine anger: ’tis mere cowardice

  Makes thee not draw; and I will leave thee dead,

  However. But if thou art so much pressed

  With guilt and fear as not to dare to fight,

  I’ll make thy memory loathed, and fix a scandal

  Upon thy name for ever.

  AMIN. [Drawing his sword] Then I draw,

  As justly as our magistrates their swords

  To cut offenders off. I knew before

  ’Twould grate your ears; but it was base in you

  To urge a weighty secret from your friend,

  And then rage at it. I shall be at ease,

  If I be killed; and, if you fall by me,

  I shall not long outlive you.

  MEL. Stay awhile.—

  The name of friend is more than family,

  Or all the world besides: I was a fool.

  Thou searching human nature, that didst wake

  To do me wrong, thou art inquisitive,

  And thrust’st me upon questions that will take

  My sleep away! Would I had died, ere known

  This sad dishonor!—Pardon me, my friend.

  [Sheathes his sword]

  If thou wilt strike, here is a faithful heart;

  Pierce it, for I will never heave my hand

  To thine. Behold the power thou hast in me!

  I do believe my sister is a whore,

  A leprous one. Put up thy sword, young man.

  AMIN. How should I bear it, then, she being so?

  I fear, my friend, that you will lose me shortly;

  [Sheathes his sword]

  And I shall do a foul act on myself

  Through these disgraces.

  MEL. Better half the land

  Were buried quick43 together. No, Amintor;

  Thou shalt have ease. O, this adulterous king,

  That drew her to’t; where got he the spirit

  To wrong me so?

  AMIN. What is it, then, to me,

  If it be wrong to you?

  MEL. Why, not so much:

  The credit of our house is thrown away.

  But from his iron den I’ll waken Death,

  And hurl him on this king: my honesty

  Shall steel my sword; and on its horrid point

  I’ll wear my cause, that shall amaze the eyes

  Of this proud man, and be too glittering

  For him to look on.

  AMIN. I have quite undone my fame.

  MEL. Dry up thy watery eyes,

  And cast a manly look upon my face;

  For nothing is so wild as I thy friend

  Till I have freed thee: still this swelling breast.

  I go thus from thee, and will never cease

  My vengeance till I find thy heart at peace.

  AMIN. It must not be so. Stay. Mine eyes would tell

  How loath I am to this; but, love and tears,

  Leave me awhile! for I have hazarded

  All that this world calls happy.—Thou hast wrought

  A secret from me, under name of friend,

  Which art could ne’er have found, nor torture wrung

  From out my bosom. Give it me again;

  For I will find it, wheresoe’er it lies,

  Hid in the mortal’st part: invent a way

  To give it back.

  MEL. Why would you have it back?

  I will to death pursue him with revenge.

  AMIN. Therefore I call it back from thee; for I know

  Thy blood so high, that thou wilt stir in this,

  And shame me to posterity. Take to thy weapon.

  [Draws]

  MEL. Hear thy friend, that bears more years than thou.

  AMIN. I will not hear: but draw, or I—

  MEL. Amintor!

  AMIN. Draw, then; for I am full as resolute

  As fame and honor can enforce me be:

  I cannot linger. Draw!

  MEL. I do. [Draws] But is not

  My share of credit equal with thine,

  If I do stir?

  AMIN. NO; for it will be called

  Honor in thee to spill thy sister’s blood,

  If she her birth abuse, and on the King

  A brave revenge; but on me, that have walked

  With patience in it, it will fix the name

  Of fearful cuckold. O, that word! Be quick.

  MEL
. Then, join with me.

  AMIN. I dare not do a sin, or else I would.

  Be speedy.

  MET. Then, dare not fight with me; for that’s a sin.—

  His grief distracts him.—Call thy thoughts again,

  And to thy self pronounce the name of friend,

  And see what that will work. I will not fight.

  AMIN. You must.

  MEL.[Sheathing] I will be killed first. Though my passions

  Offered the like to you, ’tis not this earth

  Shall buy my reason to it. Think awhile,

  For you are (I must weep when I speak that)

  Almost beside yourself.

  AMIN. [Sheathing] O, my soft temper!

  So many sweet words from thy sister’s mouth,

  I am afraid would make me take her to

  Embrace, and pardon her. I am mad indeed,

  And know not what I do. Yet have a care

  Of me in what thou dost.

  MEL. Why, thinks my friend

  I will forget his honor? or, to save

  The bravery of our house, will lose his fame,

  And fear to touch the throne of majesty?

  AMIN. A curse will follow that; but rather live

  And suffer with me.

  MEL. I will do what worth

  Shall bid me, and no more.

  AMIN. Faith, I am sick,

  And desperately, I hope; yet, leaning thus,

  I feel a kind of ease.

  MEL. Come, take again

  Your mirth about you.

  AMIN. I shall never do’t.

  MEL. I warrant you; look up; we’ll walk together;

  Put thine arm here; all shall be well again.

  AMIN. Thy love (O, wretched!) ay, thy love, Melantius;

  Why, I have nothing else.

  MEL. Be merry, then.

  Exeunt

  Enter Melantius again

  MEL. This worthy young man may do violence

  Upon himself; but I have cherished him

  To my best power, and sent him smiling from me,

  To counterfeit again. Sword, hold thine edge;

  My heart will never fail me.—

  Enter Diphilus

  Diphilus!

  Thou com’st as sent.

  DIPH. Yonder has been such laughing.

  MEL. Betwixt whom?

  DIPH. Why, our sister and the King;

  I thought their spleens would break; they laughed us all

  Out of the room.

  MEL. They must weep, Diphilus.

  DIPH. Must they?

  MEL. They must.

  Thou art my brother; and, if I did believe

  Thou hadst a base thought, I would rip it out,

  Lie where it durst.

  DIPH. You should not; I would first

  Mangle myself and find it.

  MEL. That was spoke

  According to our strain. Come, join thy hands,

  And swear a firmness to what project I

  Shall lay before thee.

  DIPH. You do wrong us both;

  People hereafter shall not say, there passed

  A bond, more than our loves, to tie our lives

  And deaths together.

  MEL. It is as nobly said as I would wish.

  Anon I’ll tell you wonders: we are wronged.

  DIPH. But I will tell you now, we’ll right ourselves.

  MEL. Stay not: prepare the armor in my house;

  And what friends you can draw unto our side,

  Not knowing of the cause, make ready too.

  Haste, Diphilus, the time requires it, haste!

  Exit Diphilus

  I hope my cause is just; I know my blood

  Tells me it is; and I will credit it.

  To take revenge, and lose myself withal,

  Were idle; and to scape impossible,

  Without I had the fort, which (misery!)

  Remaining in the hands of my old enemy

  Calianax—but I must have it. See,

  Enter Calianax

  Where he comes shaking by me!—Good my lord,

  Forget your spleen to me; I never wronged you,

  But would have peace with every man.

  CAL. ’Tis well;

  If I durst fight, your tongue would lie at quiet.

  MEL. Y’are touchy without all cause.

  CAL. Do, mock me.

  MEL. By mine honor, I speak truth.

  CAL. Honor! where is’t?

  MEL. See, what starts you make

  Into your idle hatred to my love

  And freedom to you.

  I come with resolution to obtain

  A suit of you.

  CAL. A suit of me!

  ’Tis very like it should be granted, sir.

  MEL. Nay, go not hence:

  ’Tis this; you have the keeping of the fort,

  And I would wish you, by the love you ought

  To bear unto me, to deliver it

  Into my hands.

  CAL. I am in hope thou art mad to talk to me thus.

  MEL. But there is a reason to move you to it:

  I would kill the King, that wronged you and your daughter.

  CAL. Out, traitor!

  MEL. Nay, but stay: I cannot scape,

  The deed once done, without I have this fort.

  CAL. And should I help thee?

  Now thy treacherous mind betrays itself.

  MEL. Come, delay me not;

  Give me a sudden answer, or already

  Thy last is spoke! refuse not offered love,

  When it comes clad in secrets.

  CAL. [Aside] If I say

  I will not, he will kill me; I do see’t

  Writ in his looks; and should I say I will,

  He’ll run and tell the King.—I do not shun

  Your friendship, dear Melantius; but this cause

  Is weighty: give me but an hour to think.

  MEL. Take it.—[Aside] I know this goes unto the King,

  But I am armed.—

  Exit Melantius

  CAL. Methinks I feel myself

  But twenty now again. This fighting fool

  Wants policy: I shall revenge my girl,

  And make her red again. I pray my legs

  Will last that pace that I will carry them:

  I shall want breath before I find the King.

  Exit

  ACT IV, SCENE I

  Enter Melantius, Evadne, and Ladies

  MEL. Save you!

  EVAD. Save you, sweet brother!

  MEL. In my blunt eye, methinks, you look, Evadne—

  EVAD. Come, you would make me blush.

  MEL. I would, Evadne;

  I shall displease my ends else.

  EVAD. You shall, if you command me; I am bashful.

  Come, sir, how do I look?

  MEL. I would not have your women hear me

  Break into commendation of you; ’tis not seemly.

  EVAD. Go wait me in the gallery.—

  Exeunt Ladies

  Now speak.

  MEL. I’ll lock your doors first.

  EVAD. Why?

  MEL. I will not have your gilded things, that dance

  In visitation with their Milan skins,44

  Choke up my business.

  EVAD. You are strangely disposed, sir.

  MEL. Good madam, not to make you merry.

  EVAD. No; if you praise me, ’twill make me sad.

  MEL. Such a sad commendation I have for you.

  EVAD. Brother, the court hath made you witty,

  And learn to riddle.

  MEL. I praise the court for’t: has it learned you nothing?

  EVAD. Me!

  MEL. Ay, Evadne; thou art young and handsome,

  A lady of a sweet complexion,

  And such a flowing carriage,45 that it cannot

  Choose but inflame a kingdom.

  EVAD. Gentle brother!

  MEL. ’Tis yet in thy repentance, foolish woma
n,

  To make me gentle.

  EVAD. How is this?

  MEL. ’Tis base;

  And I could blush, at these years, thorough all

  My honored scars, to come to such a parley.

  EVAD. I understand ye not.

  MEL. Ye dare not, fool!

  They that commit thy faults fly the remembrance.

  EVAD. My faults, sir! I would have you know, I care not

  If they were written here, here in my forehead.

  MEL. Thy body is too little for the story,

  The lusts of which would fill another woman,

  Though she had twins within her.

  EVAD. This is saucy:

  Look you intrude no more; there lies your way.

  MEL. Thou art my way, and I will tread upon thee,

  Till I find truth out.

  EVAD. What truth is that you look for?

  MEL. Thy long-lost honor. Would the gods had set me

  Rather to grapple with the plague, or stand

  One of their loudest bolts! Come, tell me quickly,

  Do it without enforcement, and take heed

  You swell me not above my temper.

  EVAD. How, sir!

  Where got you this report?

  MEL. Where there was people,

  In every place.

  EVAD. They and the seconds of it are base people:

  Believe them not, they lied.

  MEL. DO not play with mine anger, do not, wretch!

  I come to know that desperate fool that drew thee

  From thy fair life: be wise, and lay him open.

  EVAD. Unhand me, and learn manners! such another

  Forgetfulness forfeits your life.

  MEL. Quench me this mighty humor, and then tell me

  Whose whore you are; for you are one, I know it.

  Let all mine honors perish but I’ll find him,

  Though he lie locked up in thy blood! Be sudden;

  There is no facing it; and be not flattered;

  The burnt air, when the Dog reigns,46 is not fouler

  Than thy contagious name, till thy repentance

  (If the gods grant thee any) purge thy sickness.

  EVAD. Begone! you are my brother; that’s your safety.

  MEL. I’ll be a wolf first: ’tis, to be thy brother,

  An infamy below the sin of coward.

  I am as far from being part of thee

  As thou art from thy virtue: seek a kindred

  ’Mongst sensual beasts, and make a goat thy brother;

  A goat is cooler. Will you tell me yet?

  EVAD. If you stay here and rail thus, I shall tell you

  I’ll ha’ you whipped. Get you to your command,

  And there preach to your sentinels, and tell them

  What a brave man you are: I shall laugh at you.

  MEL. Y’are grown a glorious whore! Where be your fighters?

  What mortal fool durst raise thee to this daring,

  And I alive! By my just sword, h’ad safer

  Bestrid a billow when the angry north

  Ploughs up the sea, or made heaven’s fire his foe!