The Duchess of Malfi

by Frank Kermode

  OLD L. DO you call this painting?

  BOS. NO, no, but you call it careening of an old morphewed31 lady, to make her disembogue32 again: there’s rough-cast phrase to your plastic.33

  OLD L. It seems you are well acquainted with my closet.

  BOS. One would suspect it for a shop of witchcraft, to find in it the fat of serpents, spawn of snakes, Jews’ spittle, and their young children’s ordure; and all these for the face. I would sooner eat a dead pigeon taken from the soles of the feet of one sick of the plague than kiss one of you fasting. Here are two of you, whose sin of your youth is the very patrimony of the physician; makes him renew his foot-cloth34 with the spring, and change his high-priced courtezan with the fall of the leaf. I do wonder you do not loathe yourselves.

  Observe my meditation now.

  What thing is in this outward form of man

  To be beloved? We account it ominous,

  If nature do produce a colt, or lamb,

  A fawn, or goat, in any limb resembling

  A man, and fly from ’t as a prodigy:

  Man stands amazed to see his deformity

  In any other creature but himself.

  But in our own flesh, though we bear diseases

  Which have their true name only ta’en from beasts,

  As the most ulcerous wolf35 and swinish measle,36

  Though we are eaten up of lice and worms,

  And though continually we bear about us

  A rotten and dead body, we delight

  To hide it in rich tissue:37 all our fear,

  Nay, all our terror, is lest our physician

  Should put us in the ground to be made sweet—

  Your wife’s gone to Rome: you two couple,38 and get you

  To the wells at Lucca39 to recover your aches.

  I have other work on foot.

  Exeunt Castruchio and Old Lady

  I observe our duchess

  Is sick a-days, she pukes, her stomach seethes,

  The fins of her eye-lids look most teeming blue,

  She wanes i’ th’ cheek, and waxes fat i’ th’ flank,

  And, contrary to our Italian fashion,

  Wears a loose-bodied gown: there’s somewhat in’t.

  I have a trick may chance discover it,

  A pretty one; I have brought some apricocks,

  The first our spring yields.

  Enter Antonio and Delio, talking together apart

  DEL. And so long since married?

  You amaze me.

  ANT. Let me seal your lips for ever:

  For, did I think that anything but th’ air

  Could carry these words from you, I should wish

  You had no breath at all.—Now, sir, in your contemplation?

  You are studying to become a great wise fellow?

  BOS. Oh, sir, the opinion of wisdom is a foul tetter40 that runs all over a man’s body: if simplicity direct us to have no evil, it directs us to a happy being; for the subtlest folly proceeds from the subtlest wisdom: let me be simply honest.

  ANT. I do understand your inside.

  BOS. Do you so?

  ANT. Because you would not seem to appear to th’ world

  Puffed up with your preferment, you continue

  This out-of-fashion melancholy: leave it, leave it.

  BOS. Give me leave to be honest in any phrase, in any compliment whatsoever. Shall I confess myself to you? I look no higher than I can reach: they are the gods that must ride on winged horses. A lawyer’s mule of a slow pace will both suit my disposition and business; for, mark me, when a man’s mind rides faster than his horse can gallop, they quickly both tire.

  ANT. You would look up to heaven, but I think

  The devil, that rules i’ th’ air, stands in your light.

  BOS. Oh, sir, you are lord of the ascendant, chief man with the duchess; a duke was your cousin-german removed. Say you were lineally descended from King Pepin, or he himself, what of this? search the heads of the greatest rivers in the world, you shall find them but bubbles of water. Some would think the souls of princes were brought forth by some more weighty cause than those of meaner persons: they are deceived; there’s the same hand to them; the like passions sway them; the same reason that makes a vicar go to law for a tithe-pig, and undo his neighbors, makes them spoil a whole province, and batter down goodly cities with the cannon.

  Enter Duchess and Ladies

  DUCH. Your arm, Antonio: do I not grow fat?

  I am exceeding short-winded.—Bosola,

  I would have you, sir, provide for me a litter;

  Such a one as the Duchess of Florence rode in.

  BOS. The duchess used one when she was great with child.

  DUCH. I think she did.—Come hither, mend my ruff;

  Here, when?41

  Thou art such a tedious lady; and thy breath smells

  Of lemon-peels; would thou hadst done! Shall I swoon

  Under thy fingers! I am so troubled

  With the mother!42

  BOS. [Aside] I fear too much.

  DUCH. I have heard you say

  That the French courtiers wear their hats on ’fore

  The king.

  ANT. I have seen it.

  DUCH. In the presence?

  ANT. Yes.

  DUCH. Why should not we bring up that fashion? ’Tis

  Ceremony more than duty that consists

  In the removing of a piece of felt:

  Be you the example to the rest o’ th’ court;

  Put on your hat first.

  ANT. You must pardon me:

  I have seen, in colder countries than in France,

  Nobles stand bare to th’ prince; and the distinction

  Methought showed reverently.

  BOS. I have a present for your grace.

  DUCH. For me, sir?

  BOS. Apricocks, madam.

  DUCH. O, sir, where are they?

  I have heard of none to-year.43

  BOS. [Aside] Good; her color rises.

  DUCH. Indeed, I thank you: they are wondrous fair ones.

  What an unskilful fellow is our gardener!

  We shall have none this month.

  BOS. Will not your grace pare them?

  DUCH. No: they taste of musk, methinks; indeed they do.

  BOS. I know not: yet I wish your grace had pared ’em.

  DUCH. Why?

  BOS. I forgot to tell you, the knave gardener,

  Only to raise his profit by them the sooner,

  Did ripen them in horse-dung.

  DUCH. O, you jest.—

  You shall judge: pray taste one.

  ANT. Indeed, madam, I do not love the fruit.

  DUCH. Sir, you are loath

  To rob us of our dainties: ’tis a delicate fruit;

  They say they are restorative.

  BOS. ’Tis a pretty art,

  This grafting.

  DUCH. ’Tis so; a bettering of nature.

  BOS. To make a pippin grow upon a crab,

  A damson on a blackthorn.—[Aside] How greedily she eats them!

  A whirlwind strike off these bawd farthingales!44

  For, but for that and the loose-bodied gown,

  I should have discovered apparently

  The young springal45 cutting a caper in her belly.

  DUCH. I thank you, Bosola: they were right good ones,

  If they do not make me sick.

  ANT. How now, madam?

  DUCH. This green fruit and my stomach are not friends:

  How they swell me!

  BOS. [Aside] Nay, you are too much swelled already.

  DUCH. Oh, I am in an extreme cold sweat!

  BOS. I am very sorry.

  DUCH. Lights to my chamber!—? good Antonio,

  I fear I am undone!

  DEL. Lights there, lights!

  Exeunt Duchess and Ladies.—Exit, on the other side, Bosola

  ANT. O my most trusty Delio, we are lost!

  I fear she’s fa
ll’n in labor; and there’s left

  No time for her remove.

  DEL. Have you prepared

  Those ladies to attend her? and procured

  That politic safe conveyance for the midwife

  Your duchess plotted?

  ANT. I have.

  DEL. Make use, then, of this forced occasion:

  Give out that Bosola hath poisoned her

  With these apricocks; that will give some color

  For her keeping close.

  ANT. Fie, fie, the physicians

  Will then flock to her.

  DEL. For that you may pretend

  She’ll use some prepared antidote of her own,

  Lest the physicians should re-poison her.

  ANT. I am lost in amazement: I know not what to think on’t.

  Exeunt

  SCENE II

  Enter Bosola

  BOS. So, so, there’s no question but her tetchiness and most vulturous eating of the apricocks are apparent signs of breeding.

  Enter an Old Lady

  Now?

  OLD L. I am in haste, sir.

  BOS. There was a young waiting-woman had a monstrous desire to see the glass-house—

  OLD L. Nay, pray let me go.

  BOS. And it was only to know what strange instrument it was should swell up a glass to the fashion of a woman’s belly.

  OLD L. I will hear no more of the glass-house. You are still abusing women?

  BOS. Who, I? no; only, by the way now and then, mention your frailties. The orange-tree bears ripe and green fruit and blossoms all together; and some of you give entertainment for pure love, but more for more precious reward. The lusty spring smells well; but drooping autumn tastes well. If we have the same golden showers that rained in the time of Jupiter the thunderer, you have the same Danaës still, to hold up their laps to receive them. Didst thou never study the mathematics?

  OLD L. What’s that, sir?

  BOS. Why, to know the trick how to make a many lines meet in one center. Go, go, give your foster-daughters good counsel: tell them, that the devil takes delight to hang at a woman’s girdle, like a false rusty watch, that she cannot discern how the time passes.

  Exit Old Lady

  Enter Antonio, Delio, Roderigo, and Grisolan

  ANT. Shut up the court-gates.

  ROD. Why, sir? what’s the danger?

  ANT. Shut up the posterns presently, and call

  All the officers o’ th’ court.

  GRIS. I shall instantly.

  Exit

  ANT. Who keeps the key o’ th’ park gate?

  ROD. Forobosco.

  ANT. Let him bring ’t presently.

  Re-enter Grisolan with Servants

  1 SERV. O, gentlemen o’ the court, the foulest treason!

  BOS. [Aside] If that these apricocks should be poisoned now,

  Without my knowledge!

  1 SERV. There was taken even now

  A Switzer in the duchess’ bed chamber—

  2 SERV. A Switzer?

  1 SERV. With a pistol in his great cod-piece.

  BOS. Ha, ha, ha!

  1 SERV. The cod-piece was the case for’t.

  2 SERV. There was

  A cunning traitor: who would have searched his cod-piece?

  1 SERV. True, if he had kept out of the ladies’ chambers:

  And all the moulds of his buttons were leaden bullets.

  2 SERV. O wicked cannibal!

  A fire-lock in ’s cod-piece!

  1 SERV. ’Twas a French plot,

  Upon my life.

  2 SERV. To see what the devil can do!

  ANT. Are all the officers here?

  SERVANTS. We are.

  ANT. Gentlemen,

  We have lost much plate you know; and but this evening

  Jewels, to the value of four thousand ducats,

  Are missing in the duchess’ cabinet.

  Are the gates shut?

  SERV. Yes.

  ANT. ’Tis the duchess’ pleasure

  Each officer be locked into his chamber

  Till the sun-rising; and to send the keys

  Of all their chests and of their outward doors

  Into her bed-chamber. She is very sick.

  ROD. At her pleasure.

  ANT. She entreats you take’t not ill:

  The innocent shall be the more approved46 by it.

  BOS. Gentleman o’ th’ wood-yard, where’s your Switzer now?

  1 SERV. By this hand, ’twas credibly reported by one o’ th’ black guard.47

  Exeunt all except Antonio and Delio

  DEL. How fares it with the duchess?

  ANT. She’s exposed

  Unto the worst of torture, pain and fear.

  DEL. Speak to her all happy comfort.

  ANT. How I do play the fool with mine own danger!

  You are this night, dear friend, to post to Rome:

  My life lies in your service.

  DEL. Do not doubt me.

  ANT. Oh, ’tis far from me: and yet fear presents me

  Somewhat that looks like danger.

  DEL. Believe it,

  ’Tis but the shadow of your fear, no more;

  How superstitiously we mind our evils!

  The throwing down salt, or crossing of a hare,

  Bleeding at nose, the stumbling of a horse,

  Or singing of a cricket, are of power

  To daunt whole man in us. Sir, fare you well:

  I wish you all the joys of a blessed father:

  And, for my faith, lay this unto your breast,—

  Old friends, like old swords, still are trusted best.

  Exit

  Enter Cariola

  CAR. Sir, you are the happy father of a son:

  Your wife commends him to you.

  ANT. Blessèd comfort!—

  For Heaven’s sake tend her well: I’ll presently

  Go set a figure for ’s nativity.48

  Exeunt

  SCENE III

  Enter Bosola, with a dark lantern

  BOS. Sure I did hear a woman shriek: list, ha!

  And the sound came, if I received it right,

  From the duchess’ lodgings. There’s some stratagem

  In the confining all our courtiers

  To their several wards: I must have part of it;

  My intelligence will freeze else. List, again!

  It may be ’twas the melancholy bird,

  Best friend of silence and of solitariness,

  The owl, that screamed so.—Ha! Antonio?

  Enter Antonio with a Candle, his Sword drawn

  ANT. I heard some noise.—Who’s there? what art thou? speak.

  BOS. Antonio? put not your face nor body

  To such a forced expression of fear:

  I am Bosola, your friend.

  ANT. Bosola!—

  [Aside] This mole does undermine me.—Heard you not

  A noise even now?

  BOS. From whence?

  ANT. From the duchess’ lodging.

  BOS. Not I: did you?

  ANT. I did, or else I dreamed.

  BOS. Let’s walk towards it.

  ANT. No: it may be ’twas

  But the rising of the wind.

  BOS. Very likely.

  Methinks ’tis very cold, and yet you sweat:

  You look wildly.

  ANT. I have been setting a figure

  For the duchess’ jewels.

  BOS. Ah, and how falls your question?

  Do you find it radical?49

  ANT. What’s that to you?

  ’Tis rather to be questioned what design,

  When all men were commanded to their lodgings,

  Makes you a night-walker.

  BOS. In sooth, I’ll tell you:

  Now all the court’s asleep, I thought the devil

  Had least to do here; I came to say my prayers;

  And if it do offend you I do so,

  You are a fine courtier.

&n
bsp; ANT. [Aside] This fellow will undo me.—

  You gave the duchess apricocks to-day:

  Pray Heaven they were not poisoned!

  BOS. Poisoned? A Spanish fig

  For the imputation!

  ANT. Traitors are ever confident

  Till they are discovered. There were jewels stolen too:

  In my conceit, none are to be suspected

  More than yourself.

  BOS. You are a false steward.

  ANT. Saucy slave, I’ll pull thee up by the roots.

  BOS. Maybe the ruin will crush you to pieces.

  ANT. You are an impudent snake indeed, sir:

  Are you scarce warm, and do you show your sting?

  You libel well, sir.

  BOS. No, sir: copy it out,

  And I will set my hand to’t.

  ANT. [Aside] My nose bleeds.

  One that were superstitious would count

  This ominous, when it merely comes by chance:

  Two letters, that are wrought here for my name,

  Are drowned in blood!

  Mere accident.—For you, sir, I’ll take order

  I’ th’ morn you shall be safe:—[Aside] ’tis that must color

  Her lying-in:—sir, this door you pass not:

  I do not hold it fit that you come near

  The duchess’ lodgings, till you have quit yourself.50—

  [Aside] The great are like the base, nay, they are the same,

  When they seek shameful ways to avoid shame.

  Exit

  BOS. Antonio hereabout did drop a paper:—

  Some of your help, false friend: [Opening his lantern]—Oh, here it is.

  What’s here? a child’s nativity calculated?

  [Reads]

  “The duchess was delivered of a son, ’tween the hours twelve and one in the night, Anno Dom. 1504,”—that’s this year—“decimo nono Decembris,”51—that’s this night,—“taken according to the meridian of Malfi,”—that’s our duchess: happy discovery!—“The lord of the first house being combust in the ascendant, signifies short life; and Mars being in a human sign, joined to the tail of the Dragon, in the eighth house, doth threaten a violent death. Caetera non scrutantur.”52

  Why, now ’tis most apparent: this precise fellow

  Is the duchess’ bawd:—I have it to my wish!

  This is a parcel of intelligency

  Our courtiers were cased up for: it needs must follow

  That I must be committed on pretence

  Of poisoning her; which I’ll endure, and laugh at.

  If one could find the father now! but that

  Time will discover. Old Castruchio