The Duchess of Malfi

by Frank Kermode

  Work me no higher. Will you discover yet?

  EVAD. The fellow’s mad. Sleep, and speak sense.

  MEL. Force my swoln heart no further: I would save thee.

  Your great maintainers are not here, they dare not:

  Would they were all, and armed! I would speak loud;

  Here’s one should thunder to ’em! Will you tell me?—

  Thou hast no hope to scape: he that dares most,

  And damns away his soul to do thee service,

  Will sooner snatch meat from a hungry lion

  Than come to rescue thee; thou hast death about thee;—

  He has undone thine honor, poisoned thy virtue,

  And, of a lovely rose, left thee a canker.

  EVAD. Let me consider.

  MEL. Do, whose child thou wert,

  Whose honor thou hast murdered, whose grave opened

  And so pulled on the gods, that in their justice

  They must restore him flesh again and life,

  And raise his dry bones to revenge this scandal.

  EVAD. The gods are not of my mind; they had better

  Let ’em lie sweet still in the earth; they’ll stink here.

  MEL. Do you raise mirth out of my easiness?

  Forsake me, then, all weaknesses of nature,

  [Draws his sword]

  That make men women! Speak, you whore, speak truth,

  Or, by the dear soul of thy sleeping father,

  This sword shall be thy lover! tell, or I’ll kill thee;

  And, when thou hast told all, thou wilt deserve it.

  EVAD. You will not murder me?

  MEL. NO; ’tis a justice, and a noble one,

  To put the light out of such base offenders.

  EVAD. Help!

  MEL. By thy foul self, no human help shall help thee,

  If thou criest! When I have killed thee, as I

  Have vowed to do if thou confess not, naked,

  As thou hast left thine honor, will I leave thee;

  That on thy branded flesh the world may read

  Thy black shame and my justice. Wilt thou bend yet?

  EVAD. Yes.

  MEL. Up, and begin your story.

  EVAD. O, I

  Am miserable!

  MEL. ’Tis true, thou art. Speak truth still.

  EVAD. I have offended: noble sir, forgive me!

  MEL. With what secure slave?

  EVAD. DO not ask me, sir;

  Mine own remembrance is a misery

  Too mighty for me.

  MEL. DO not fall back again; my sword’s unsheathed yet.

  EVAD. What shall I do?

  MEL. Be true, and make your fault less.

  EVAD. I dare not tell.

  MEL. Tell, or I’ll be this day a-killing thee.

  EVAD. Will you forgive me, then?

  MEL. Stay; I must ask mine honor first.

  I have too much foolish nature in me: speak.

  EVAD. Is there none else here?

  MEL. None but a fearful47 conscience; that’s too many.

  Who is’t?

  EVAD. O, hear me gently! It was the King.

  MEL. NO more. My worthy father’s and my services

  Are liberally rewarded! King, I thank thee!

  For all my dangers and my wounds thou hast paid me

  In my own metal: these are soldiers’ thanks!—

  How long have you lived thus, Evadne?

  EVAD. Too long.

  MEL. Too late you find it. Can you be sorry?

  EVAD. Would I were half as blameless!

  MEL. Evadne, thou wilt to thy trade again.

  EVAD. First to my grave.

  MEL. Would gods thou hadst been so blest!

  Dost thou not hate this King now? prithee hate him:

  Couldst thou not curse him? I command thee, curse him;

  Curse till the gods hear, and deliver him

  To thy just wishes. Yet I fear, Evadne,

  You had rather play your game out.

  EVAD. No; I feel

  Too many sad confusions here, to let in

  Any loose flame hereafter.

  MEL. Dost thou not feel, amongst all those, one brave anger,

  That breaks out nobly, and directs thine arm

  To kill this base King?

  EVAD. All the gods forbid it!

  MEL. No, all the gods require it; they are

  Dishonored in him.

  EVAD. ’Tis too fearful.

  MEL. Y’are valiant in his bed, and bold enough

  To be a stale whore, and have your madam’s name

  Discourse for grooms and pages; and hereafter,

  When his cool majesty hath laid you by,

  To be at pension with some needy sir

  For meat and coarser clothes: thus far you know

  No fear. Come, you shall kill him.

  EVAD. Good sir!

  MEL. An ’twere to kiss him dead, thou’dst smother him:

  Be wise, and kill him. Canst thou live, and know

  What noble minds shall make thee, see thyself

  Found out with every finger, made the shame

  Of all successions, and in this great ruin

  Thy brother and thy noble husband broken?

  Thou shalt not live thus. Kneel, and swear to help me,

  When I shall call thee to it; or, by all

  Holy in heaven and earth, thou shalt not live

  To breathe a full hour longer; not a thought!

  Come, ’tis a righteous oath. Give me thy hands,

  And, both to heaven held up, swear, by that wealth

  This lustful thief stole from thee, when I say it,

  To let his foul soul out.

  EVAD. Here I swear it;

  [Kneels]

  And, all you spirits of abusèd ladies,

  Help me in this performance!

  MEL. [Raising her] Enough. This must be known to none

  But you and I, Evadne; not to your lord,

  Though he be wise and noble, and a fellow

  Dares step as far into a worthy action

  As the most daring, ay, as far as justice.

  Ask me not why. Farewell.

  Exit

  EVAD. Would I could say so to my black disgrace!

  O, where have I been all this time? how friended,

  That I should lose myself thus desperately,

  And none for pity show me how I wandered?

  There is not in the compass of the light

  A more unhappy creature: sure, I am monstrous;

  For I have done those follies, those mad mischiefs,

  Would dare48 a woman. O, my loaded soul,

  Be not so cruel to me; choke not up

  The way to my repentance!

  Enter Amintor

  O, my lord!

  AMIN. How now?

  EVAD. My much-abusèd lord!

  [Kneels]

  AMIN. This cannot be!

  EVAD. I do not kneel to live; I dare not hope it;

  The wrongs I did are greater. Look upon me,

  Though I appear with all my faults.

  AMIN. Stand up.

  This is a new way to beget more sorrow:

  Heaven knows I have too many. Do not mock me:

  Though I am tame, and bred up with my wrongs,

  Which are my foster-brothers, I may leap,

  Like a hand-wolf,49 into my natural wildness,

  And do an outrage: prithee, do not mock me.

  EVAD. My whole life is so leprous, it infects

  All my repentance. I would buy your pardon,

  Though at the highest set,50 even with my life:

  That slight contrition, that’s no sacrifice

  For what I have committed.

  AMIN. Sure, I dazzle:

  There cannot be a faith in that foul woman,

  That knows no god more mighty than her mischiefs.

  Thou dost still worse, still number on thy faults,

  To press my poor heart t
hus. Can I believe

  There’s any seed of virtue in that woman

  Left to shoot up, that dares go on in sin

  Known, and so known as thine is? O Evadne,

  Would there were any safety in thy sex,

  That I might put a thousand sorrows off,

  And credit thy repentance! but I must not:

  Thou hast brought me to that dull calamity,

  To that strange misbelief of all the world

  And all things that are in it, that I fear

  I shall fall like a tree, and find my grave,

  Only remembering that I grieve.

  EVAD. My lord,

  Give me your griefs: you are an innocent,

  A soul as white as heaven; let not my sins

  Perish your noble youth. I do not fall here

  To shadow by dissembling with my tears,

  (As all say women can,) or to make less

  What my hot will hath done, which heaven and you

  Know to be tougher than the hand of time

  Can cut from man’s remembrance; no, I do not;

  I do appear the same, the same Evadne,

  Dressed in the shames I lived in, the same monster.

  But these are names of honor to what I am;

  I do present myself the foulest creature,

  Most poisonous, dangerous, and despised of men,

  Lerna51 e’er bred or Nilus. I am hell,

  Till you, my dear lord, shoot your light into me,

  The beams of your forgiveness; I am soulsick,

  And wither with the fear of one condemned,

  Till I have got your pardon.

  AMIN. Rise, Evadne,

  Those heavenly powers that put this good into thee

  Grant a continuance of it! I forgive thee:

  Make thyself worthy of it; and take heed,

  Take heed, Evadne, this be serious.

  Mock not the powers above, that can and dare

  Give thee a great example of their justice

  To all ensuing ages, if thou play’st

  With thy repentance, the best sacrifice.

  EVAD. I have done nothing good to win belief,

  My life hath been so faithless. All the creatures,

  Made for heaven’s honors, have their ends, and good ones,

  All but the cozening crocodiles, false women:

  They reign here like those plagues, those killing sores,

  Men pray against; and when they die, like tales

  Ill told and unbelieved, they pass away,

  And go to dust forgotten. But, my lord,

  Those short days I shall number to my rest

  (As many must not see me) shall, though too late,

  Though in my evening, yet perceive a will,

  Since I can do no good, because a woman,

  Reach constantly at something that is near it:

  I will redeem one minute of my age,

  Or, like another Niobe,52 I’ll weep,

  Till I am water.

  AMIN. I am now dissolved;

  My frozen soul melts. May each sin thou hast,

  Find a new mercy! Rise; I am at peace.

  Hadst thou been thus, thus excellently good,

  Before that devil-king tempted thy frailty,

  Sure thou hadst made a star. Give me thy hand:

  From this time I will know thee; and, as far

  As honor gives me leave, by thy Amintor.

  When we meet next, I will salute thee fairly,

  And pray the gods to give thee happy days:

  My charity shall go along with thee,

  Though my embraces must be far from thee.

  I should ha’ killed thee, but this sweet repentance

  Locks up my vengeance; for which thus I kiss thee—

  The last kiss we must take: and would to heaven

  The holy priest that gave our hands together

  Had given us equal virtues! Go, Evadne;

  The gods thus part our bodies. Have a care

  My honor falls no farther: I am well, then.

  EVAD. All the dear joys here, and above hereafter,

  Crown thy fair soul! Thus I take leave, my lord;

  And never shall you see the foul Evadne,

  Till she have tried all honored means, that may

  Set her in rest and wash her stains away.

  Exeunt [severally]

  SCENE II

  Banquet. Enter King and Calianax. Hautboys play within

  KING. I cannot tell how I should credit this

  From you, that are his enemy.

  CAL. I am sure

  He said it to me; and I’ll justify it

  What way he dares oppose—but53 with my sword.

  KING. But did he break, without all circumstance,

  To you, his foe, that he would have the fort,

  To kill me, and then scape?

  CAL. If he deny it,

  I’ll make him blush.

  KING. It sounds incredibly.

  CAL. Ay, so does every thing I say of late.

  KING. Not so, Calianax.

  CAL. Yes, I should sit

  Mute whilst a rogue with strong arms cuts your throat.

  KING. Well, I will try him; and, if this be true,

  I’ll pawn my life I’ll find it; if ’t be false,

  And that you clothe your hate in such a lie,

  You shall hereafter dote in your own house,

  Not in the court.

  CAL. Why, if it be a lie,

  Mine ears are false, for I’ll be sworn I heard it.

  Old men are good for nothing: you were best

  Put me to death for hearing, and free him

  For meaning it. You would have trusted me

  Once, but the time is altered.

  KING. And will still,

  Where I may do with justice to the world:

  You have no witness.

  CAL. Yes, myself.

  KING. NO more,

  I mean, there were that heard it.

  CAL. How? no more!

  Would you have more? why, am not I enough

  To hang a thousand rogues?

  KING. But so you may

  Hang honest men too, if you please.

  CAL. I may!

  ’Tis like I will do so: there are a hundred

  Will swear it for a need too, if I say it—

  KING. Such witnesses we need not.

  CAL. And ’tis hard

  If my word cannot hang a boisterous knave.

  KING. Enough.—Where’s Strato?

  Enter Strato

  STRA. Sir?

  KING. Why, where’s all the company? Call Amintor in;

  Evadne. here’s my brother, and Melantius?

  Bid him come too; and Diphilus. Call all

  That are without there.—

  Exit Strato

  If he should desire

  The combat of you,54 ’tis not in the power

  Of all our laws to hinder it, unless

  We mean to quit ’em.

  CAL. Why, if you do think

  ’Tis fit an old man and a counselor

  To fight for what he says, then you may grant it.

  Enter Amintor, Evadne, Melantius, Diphilus, Lysippus, Cleon, Strato, and Diagoras

  KING. Come, sirs!—Amintor, thou art yet a bridegroom,

  And I will use thee so; thou shalt sit down.—

  Evadne, sit;—and you, Amintor, too;

  This banquet is for you, sir.—Who has brought

  A merry tale about him, to raise laughter

  Amongst our wine? Why, Strato, where art thou?

  Thou wilt chop out with them55 unseasonably,

  When I desire ’em not.

  STRA. ’Tis my ill luck, sir, so to spend them, then.

  KING. Reach me a bowl of wine.—Melantius, thou

  Art sad.

  MEL. I should be, sir, the merriest here,

  But I ha’ ne’er a story of mine own

  Worth t
elling at this time.

  KING. Give me the wine.—

  Melantius I am now considering

  How easy ’twere for any man we trust

  To poison one of us in such a bowl.

  MEL. I think it were not hard, sir, for a knave.

  CAL. [Aside] Such as you are.

  KING. I’faith, ’twere easy. It becomes us well

  To get plain-dealing men about ourselves,

  Such as you all are here.—Amintor, to thee;

  And to thy fair Evadne!

  [Drinks]

  MEL.[Apart to Calianax] Have you thought

  Of this, Calianax?

  CAL. Yes, marry, have I.

  MEL. And what’s your resolution?

  CAL. We shall have it,

  Soundly, I warrant you.

  KING. Reach to Amintor, Strato.

  AMIN. Here, my love;

  [Drinks, and then hands the cup to Evadne]

  This wine will do thee wrong, for it will set

  Blushes upon thy cheeks; and, till thou dost

  A fault, ’twere pity.

  KING. Yet I wonder much

  Of the strange desperation of these men,

  That dare attempt such acts here in our state:

  He could not scape that did it.

  MEL. Were he known, unpossible.

  KING. It would be known, Melantius.

  MEL. It ought to be. If he got then away,

  He must wear all our lives upon his sword:

  He need not fly the island; he must leave

  No one alive.

  KING. NO; I should think no man

  Could kill me, and scape clear, but that old man.

  CAL. But I! heaven bless me! I! should I, my liege?

  KING. I do not think thou wouldst; but yet thou mightst,

  For thou hast in thy hands the means to scape,

  By keeping of the fort.—He has, Melantius,

  And he has kept it well.

  MEL. From cobwebs, sir,

  ’Tis clean swept: I can find no other art

  In keeping of it now: ’twas ne’er besieged

  Since he commanded.

  CAL. I shall be sure

  Of your good word: but I have kept it safe

  From such as you.

  MEL. Keep your ill temper in:

  I speak no malice; had my brother kept it,

  I should ha’ said as much.

  KING. You are not merry.

  Brother, drink wine. Sit you all still.—Calianax,

  [Aside] I cannot trust this: I have thrown out words,

  That would have fetched warm blood upon the cheeks

  Of guilty men, and he is never moved;

  He knows no such thing.

  CAL. Impudence may scape,

  When feeble virtue is accused.

  KING. ’A must,

  If he were guilty, feel an alteration

  At this our whisper, whilst we point at him:

  You see he does not.

  CAL. Let him hang himself: