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The Duchess of Malfi

Page 44

by Frank Kermode


  TUTOR. Argumentum iterum probo tibi, domine; qui non participat de ratione, nullo modo potest vocari rationalis; but stultus non participat de ratione, ergo stultus nullo modo potest dici rationalis.

  TIM. Participat.

  TUTOR. Sic disputas: qui participat, quomodo participat?

  TIM. Ut homo, probabo tibi in syllogismo.

  TUTOR. Hunc proba.

  TIM. Sic probo, domine; stultus est homo, sicut tu et ego sumus; homo est animal rationale, sicut stultus est animal rationale.

  Enter Maudlin

  MAUD. Here’s nothing but disputing all the day long with ’em!

  TUTOR. Sic disputas; stultus est homo, sicut tu et ego sumus; homo est animal rationale, sicut stultus est animal rationale.

  MAUD. Your reasons are both good, whate’er they be.

  Pray, give them over; faith, you’ll tire yourselves;

  What’s the matter between you?

  TIM. Nothing but reasoning

  About a fool, mother.

  MAUD. About a fool, son?

  Alas, what need you trouble your heads ’bout that!

  None of us all but knows what a fool is.

  TIM. Why, what’s a fool, mother? I come to you now.

  MAUD. Why, one that’s married before he has wit.

  TIM. ’Tis pretty, i’faith, and well guessed of a woman never brought up at the university; but bring forth what fool you will, mother, I’ll prove him to be as reasonable a creature as myself or my tutor here.

  MAUD. Fie, ’tis impossible!

  TUTOR. Nay, he shall do’t, forsooth.

  TIM. ’Tis the easiest thing to prove a fool by logic;

  By logic I’ll prove anything.

  MAUD. What, thou wilt not?

  TIM. I’ll prove a whore to be an honest woman.

  MAUD. Nay, by my faith, she must prove that herself,

  Or logic will ne’er do’t.

  TIM. ’Twill do’t, I tell you.

  MAUD. Some in this street would give a thousand pounds

  That you could prove their wives so.

  TIM. Faith, I can,

  And all their daughters too, though they had three bastards.

  When comes your tailor hither?

  MAUD. Why, what of him?

  TIM. By logic I’ll prove him to be a man,

  Let him come when he will.

  MAUD. How hard at first

  Was learning to him! truly, sir, I thought

  He would never ’a took the Latin tongue:

  How many accidences do you think he wore out

  Ere he came to his grammar?

  TUTOR. Some three or four.

  MAUD. Believe me, sir, some four and thirty.

  TIM. Pish, I made haberdines106 of ’em in church-porches.

  MAUD. He was eight years in his grammar, and stuck horribly

  At a foolish place there, called as in prœsenti.107

  TIM. Pox, I have it here now.

  MAUD. He so shamed me once,

  Before an honest gentleman that knew me

  When I was a maid.

  TIM. These women must have all out!

  MAUD. Quid est grammatica?108 says the gentleman to him,—

  I shall remember by a sweet, sweet token,—

  But nothing could he answer.

  TUTOR. How now, pupil, ha?

  Quid est grammatica?

  TIM. Grammatica? ha, ha, ha!

  MAUD. Nay, do not laugh, son, but let me hear you say’t now:

  There was one word went so prettily off

  The gentleman’s tongue, I shall remember it

  The longest day of my life.

  TUTOR. Come, quid est grammatica?

  TIM. Are you not ashamed, tutor, grammatica?

  Why, recte scribendi atque loquendi ars,109

  Sir-reverence110 of my mother.

  MAUD. That was it, i’faith: why now, son,

  I see you’re a deep scholar:—and, master tutor,

  A word, I pray; let us withdraw a little

  Into my husband’s chamber; I’ll send in

  The North Wales gentlewoman to him, she looks for wooing:

  I’ll put together both, and lock the door.

  TUTOR. I give great approbation to your conclusion.

  Exeunt Maudlin and Tutor

  TIM. I mar’l111 what this gentlewoman should be

  That I should have in marriage; she’s a stranger to me;

  I wonder what my parents mean, i’faith,

  To match me with a stranger so,

  A maid that’s neither kiff112 nor kin to me:

  ’Life, do they think I’ve no more care of my body

  Than to lie with one that I ne’er knew, a mere stranger,

  One that ne’er went to school with me neither,

  Nor ever play-fellows together?

  They’re mightily o’erseen113 in it, methinks.

  They say she has mountains to her marriage,

  She’s full of cattle, some two thousand runts:

  Now, what the meaning of these runts114 should be,

  My tutor cannot tell me; I have looked

  In Rider’s Dictionary115 for the letter R,

  And there I can hear no tidings of these runts neither;

  Unless they should be Romford hogs,116 I know them not.

  Enter Welshwoman

  And here she comes. If I know what to say to her now

  In the way of marriage, I’m no graduate:

  Methinks, i’faith, ’tis boldly done of her

  To come into my chamber, being but a stranger;

  She shall not say I am so proud yet but

  I’ll speak to her; marry, as I will order it,

  She shall take no hold of my words, I’ll warrant her.

  [Welshwoman curtsies]

  She looks and makes a curtsy.—

  Salve tu quoque, puella pulcherrima; quid vis nescio nec sane curo,—117

  Tully’s118 own phrase to a heart.

  WELSH. [Aside] I know not what he means: a suitor, quoth’a?

  I hold my life he understands no English.

  TIM. Fertur, mehercule, tu virgo, Walliâ ut opibus abundas maximis.119

  WELSH. What’s this fertur and abundundis?

  He mocks me sure, and calls me a bundle of farts.

  TIM. [Aside] I have no Latin word now for their runts;

  I’ll make some shift or other:

  Iterum dico, opibus abundas maximis, montibus, et fontibus et ut ita dicam rontibus; attamen vero homunculus ego sum natura, simul et arte baccalaureus, lecto profecto non parato.120

  WELSH. This is most strange: may be he can speak Welsh.

  Avedera whee comrage, der due cog foginis.121

  TIM. Cogfoggin? I scorn to cog122 with her; I’ll tell her so too in a word near her own language,—Ego non cogo.123

  WELSH. Rhegosin a whiggin harle ron corid ambro.124

  TIM. By my faith, she’s a good scholar, I see that already;

  She has the tongues plain; I hold my life sh’as travelled:

  What will folks say? there goes the learned couple!

  Faith, if the truth were known, she hath proceeded.125

  Re-enter Maudlin

  MAUD. How now? how speeds your business?

  TIM. [Aside] I’m glad

  My mother’s come to part us.

  MAUD. How do you agree, forsooth?

  WELSH. As well as e’er we did before we met.

  MAUD. How’s that?

  WELSH. You put me to a man I understand not:

  Your son’s no Englishman, methinks.

  MAUD. No Englishman?

  Bless my boy, and born i’ the heart of London!

  WELSH. I ha’ been long enough in the chamber with him,

  And I find neither Welsh nor English in him.

  MAUD. Why, Tim, how have you used the gentlewoman?

  TIM. As well as a man might do, mother, in modest Latin.

  MAUD. Latin, fool?

  TIM. And she rec
oiled in Hebrew.

  MAUD. In Hebrew, fool? ’tis Welsh.

  TIM. All comes to one, mother.

  MAUD. She can speak English too.

  TIM. Who told me so much?

  Heart, an she can speak English, I’ll clap to her;

  I thought you’d marry me to a stranger.

  MAUD. You must forgive him; he’s so inured to Latin,

  He and his tutor, that he hath quite forgot

  To use the Protestant tongue.

  WELSH. ’Tis quickly pardoned, forsooth.

  MAUD. Tim, make amends and kiss her.—

  He makes towards you, forsooth.

  [They kiss]

  TIM. O delicious!

  One may discover her country by her kissing:

  ’Tis a true saying, there’s nothing tastes so sweet

  As your Welsh mutton.—’Twas reported you could sing.

  MAUD. O, rarely, Tim, the sweetest British126 songs!

  TIM. And ’tis my mind, I swear, before I marry,

  I would see all my wife’s good parts at once,

  To view how rich I were.

  MAUD. Thou shalt hear sweet music, Tim.—

  Pray, forsooth.

  WELSH. [Sings]

  Cupid is Venus’ only joy,

  But he is a wanton boy,

  A very, very wanton boy;

  He shoots at ladies’ naked breasts,

  He is the cause of most men’s crests

  I mean upon the forehead,

  Invisible but horrid;

  ’Twas he first thought upon the way

  To keep a lady’s lips in play.

  Why should not Venus chide her son

  For the pranks that he hath done,

  The wanton pranks that he hath done?

  He shoots his fiery darts so thick,

  They hurt poor ladies to the quick,

  Ah me, with cruel wounding!

  His darts are so confounding,

  That life and sense would soon decay,

  But that he keeps their lips in play.

  Can there be any part of bliss

  In a quickly fleeting kiss,

  A quickly fleeting kiss?

  To one’s pleasure leisures are but waste,

  The slowest kiss makes too much haste,

  And lose it ere we find it:

  The pleasing sport they only know

  That close above and close below.

  TIM. I would not change my wife for a kingdom:

  I can do somewhat too in my own lodging.

  Enter Yellowhammer and Allwit

  YEL. Why, well said, Tim! the bells go merrily;

  I love such peals a’ life.127—Wife, lead them in awhile;

  Here’s a strange gentleman desires private conference.—

  Exeunt Maudlin, Welshwoman, and Tim

  You’re welcome, sir, the more for your name’s sake,

  Good Master Yellowhammer: I love my name well:

  And which o’ the Yellowhammers take you descent from,

  If I may be so bold with you? which, I pray?

  ALLWIT. The Yellowhammers in Oxfordshire, near Abingdon.

  YEL. And those are the best Yellowhammers, and truest bred;

  I came from thence myself, though now a citizen:

  I will be bold with you; you are most welcome.

  ALLWIT. I hope the zeal I bring with me shall deserve it.

  YEL. I hope no less: what is your will, sir?

  ALLWIT. I understand, by rumors, you’ve a daughter,

  Which my bold love shall henceforth title cousin.

  YEL. I thank you for her, sir.

  ALLWIT. I heard of her virtues

  And other confirmed graces.

  YEL. A plaguy girl, sir!

  ALLWIT. Fame sets her out with richer ornaments

  Than you are pleased to boast of; ’tis done modestly:

  I hear she’s towards marriage.

  YEL. You hear truth, sir.

  ALLWIT. And with a knight in town, Sir Walter Whorehound.

  YEL. The very same, sir.

  ALLWIT. I’m the sorrier for’t.

  YEL. The sorrier? why, cousin?

  ALLWIT. ’Tis not too far past, is’t?

  It may be yet recalled?

  YEL. Recalled! why, good sir?

  ALLWIT. Resolve128 me in that point, ye shall hear from me.

  YEL. There’s no contract past.

  ALLWIT. I’m very joyful, sir.

  YEL. But he’s the man must bed her.

  ALLWIT. By no means, coz;

  She’s quite undone then, and you’ll curse the time

  That e’er you made the match; he’s an arrant whoremaster,

  Consumes his time and state 129

  Whom in my knowledge he hath kept this seven years;

  Nay, coz, another man’s wife too.

  YEL. O, abominable!

  ALLWIT. Maintains the whole house, apparels the husband,

  Pays servant’s wages, not so much but——130

  YEL. Worse and worse; and doth the husband know this?

  ALLWIT. Knows? ay, and glad he may too, ’tis his living:

  As other trades thrive, butchers by selling flesh,

  Poulters by vending conies, or the like, coz.

  YEL. What an incomparable wittol’s131 this!

  ALLWIT. Tush, what cares he for that? believe me, coz,

  No more than I do.

  YEL. What a base slave’s that!

  ALLWIT. All’s one to him; he feeds and takes his ease,

  Was ne’er the man that ever broke his sleep

  To get a child yet, by his own confession,

  And yet his wife has seven.

  YEL. What, by Sir Walter?

  ALLWIT. Sir Walter’s like to keep ’em and maintain ’em

  In excellent fashion; he dares do no less, sir.

  YEL. ’Life, has he children too?

  ALLWIT. Children! boys thus high,

  In their Cato and Corderius.132

  YEL. What? you jest, sir?

  ALLWIT. Why, one can make a verse, and now’s at Eton College.

  YEL. O, this news has cut into my heart, coz!

  ALLWIT. ’Thad eaten nearer, if it had not been prevented:

  One Allwit’s wife.

  YEL. Allwit! ’foot, I have heard of him;

  He had a girl kursened lately?

  ALLWIT. Ay, that work

  Did cost the knight above a hundred mark.

  YEL. I’ll mark him for a knave and villain for’t;

  A thousand thanks and blessings! I have done with him.

  ALLWIT. [Aside] Ha, ha, ha! this knight will stick by my ribs still;

  I shall not lose him yet; no wife will come;

  Where’er he woos, I find him still at home:

  Ha, ha!

  Exit

  YEL. Well, grant all this, say now his deeds are black,

  Pray, what serves marriage but to call him back;133

  I’ve kept a whore myself, and had a bastard

  By Mistress Anne, in anno—

  I care not who knows it; he’s now a jolly fellow,

  Has been twice warden;134 so may his fruit be,

  They were but base begot, and so was he.

  The knight is rich, he shall be my son-in-law;

  No matter, so the whore he keeps be wholesome,

  My daughter takes no hurt then; so let them wed:

  I’ll have him sweat well135 ere they go to bed.

  Re-enter Maudlin

  MAUD. O husband, husband!

  YEL. How now, Maudlin?

  MAUD. We are all undone; she’s gone, she’s gone!

  YEL. Again? death, which way?

  MAUD. Over the houses: lay136 the water-side,

  She’s gone for ever else.

  YEL. O venturous baggage!

  Exeunt

  SCENE II

  Enter Tim and Tutor severally

  TIM. Thieves, thieves! my sister’s stolen: some thief hath got
her:

  O how miraculously did my father’s plate ’scape!

  ’Twas all left out, tutor.

  TUTOR. Is’t possible?

  TIM. Besides three chains of pearl and a box of coral.

  My sister’s gone; let’s look at Trig-stairs137 for her;

  My mother’s gone to lay the common stairs

  At Puddle-wharf; and at the dock below

  Stands my poor silly father; run, sweet tutor, run!

  Exeunt

  SCENE III

  Enter Touchwood senior and Touchwood junior

  TOUCH. SEN. I had been taken, brother, by eight sergeants,

  But for the honest watermen; I’m bound to them;

  They are the most requitefull’st138 people living,

  For as they get their means by gentlemen,

  They’re still the forwardest to help gentlemen:

  You heard how one ’scaped out of the Blackfriars,

  But a while since, from two or three varlets came

  Into the house with all their rapiers drawn,

  As if they’d dance the sword-dance on the stage,

  With candles in their hands, like chandlers’ ghosts;

  Whilst the poor gentleman so pursued and banded,

  Was by an honest pair of oars safely landed.

  TOUCH. JUN. I love them with my heart for’t!

  Enter several Watermen

  1ST W. Your first man, sir.

  2ND W. Shall I carry you, gentlemen, with a pair of oars?

  TOUCH. SEN. These be the honest fellows: take one pair,

  And leave the rest for her.

  TOUCH. JUN. Barn Elms.

  TOUCH. SEN. No more, brother.

  Exit

  1ST W. Your first man.

  2ND W. Shall I carry your worship?

  TOUCH. JUN. Go; and you honest watermen that stay,

  Here’s a French crown for you [gives money]: there comes a maid

  With all speed to take water, row her lustily

  To Barn Elms after me.

  2ND W. To Barn Elms,139 good sir.—

  Make ready the boat, Sam; we’ll wait below.

  Exeunt Watermen

  Enter Moll

  TOUCH. JUN. What made you stay so long?

  MOLL. I found the way more dangerous than I looked for.

  TOUCH. JUN. Away, quick; there’s a boat waits for you; and I’ll

  Take water at Paul’s wharf, and overtake you.

  MOLL. Good sir, do; we cannot be too safe.

  Exeunt

  Enter Sir Walter Whorehound, Yellowhammer, Tim, and Tutor

  SIR WAL. Life, call you this close keeping?

  YEL. She was kept

  Under a double lock.

  SIR WAL. A double devil!

  TIM. That’s a buff sergeant, tutor; he’ll ne’er wear out.

  YEL. How would you have women locked?

  TIM. With padlocks, father;

 

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