The Duchess of Malfi John Webster (intellectual books to read TXT) đ
- Author: John Webster
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With roses; mark it, âtis a cunning one:
Reads. âI stand engaged for your husband for several debts at Naples: let not that trouble him; I had rather have his heart than his moneyâ:â â
And I believe so too.
BosolaWhat do you believe?
DuchessThat he so much distrusts my husbandâs love,
He will by no means believe his heart is with him
Until he see it: the devil is not cunning enough
To circumvent us in riddles.
Will you reject that noble and free league
Of amity and love which I present you?
Their league is like that of some politic kings,
Only to make themselves of strength and power
To be our after-ruin; tell them so.
And what from you?
AntonioThus tell him; I will not come.
BosolaAnd what of this?
AntonioMy brothers have dispersâd
Bloodhounds abroad; which till I hear are muzzlâd,
No truce, though hatchâd with neâer such politic skill,
Is safe, that hangs upon our enemiesâ will.
Iâll not come at them.
This proclaims your breeding.
Every small thing draws a base mind to fear,
As the adamant draws iron. Fare you well, sir;
You shall shortly hear fromâs.
I suspect some ambush;
Therefore by all my love I do conjure you
To take your eldest son, and fly towards Milan.
Let us not venture all this poor remainder
In one unlucky bottom.
You counsel safely.
Best of my life, farewell. Since we must part,
Heaven hath a hand inât; but no otherwise
Than as some curious artist takes in sunder
A clock or watch, when it is out of frame,
To bringât in better order.
I know not which is best,
To see you dead, or part with you.â âFarewell, boy:
Thou art happy that thou hast not understanding
To know thy misery; for all our wit
And reading brings us to a truer sense
Of sorrow.â âIn the eternal church, sir,
I do hope we shall not part thus.
O, be of comfort!
Make patience a noble fortitude,
And think not how unkindly we are usâd:
Man, like to cassia, is provâd best, being bruisâd.
Must I, like to slave-born Russian,
Account it praise to suffer tyranny?
And yet, O heaven, thy heavy hand is inât!
I have seen my little boy oft scourge his top,
And comparâd myself toât: naught made me eâer
Go right but heavenâs scourge-stick.
Do not weep:
Heaven fashionâd us of nothing; and we strive
To bring ourselves to nothing.â âFarewell, Cariola,
And thy sweet armful.â âIf I do never see thee more,
Be a good mother to your little ones,
And save them from the tiger: fare you well.
Let me look upon you once more, for that speech
Came from a dying father. Your kiss is colder
Than that I have seen an holy anchorite
Give to a dead manâs skull.
My heart is turnâd to a heavy lump of lead,
With which I sound my danger: fare you well.
My laurel is all withered.
CariolaLook, madam, what a troop of armed men
Make toward us!
O, they are very welcome:
When Fortuneâs wheel is over-chargâd with princes,
The weight makes it move swift: I would have my ruin
Be sudden.â âI am your adventure, am I not?
You are: you must see your husband no more.
DuchessWhat devil art thou that counterfeitâst heavenâs thunder?
BosolaIs that terrible? I would have you tell me whether
Is that note worse that frights the silly birds
Out of the corn, or that which doth allure them
To the nets? You have hearkâned to the last too much.
O misery! like to a rusty oâerchargâd cannon,
Shall I never fly in pieces?â âCome, to what prison?
To none.
DuchessWhither, then?
BosolaTo your palace.
DuchessI have heard
That Charonâs boat serves to convey all oâer
The dismal lake, but brings none back again.
Your brothers mean you safety and pity.
DuchessPity!
With such a pity men preserve alive
Pheasants and quails, when they are not fat enough
To be eaten.
These are your children?
DuchessYes.
BosolaCan they prattle?
DuchessNo:
But I intend, since they were born accursâd,
Curses shall be their first language.
Fie, madam!
Forget this base, low fellowâ â
Were I a man,
Iâd beat that counterfeit face86 into thy other.
One of no birth.
DuchessSay that he was born mean,
Man is most happy whenâs own actions
Be arguments and examples of his virtue.
A barren, beggarly virtue.
DuchessI prithee, who is greatest? Can you tell?
Sad tales befit my woe: Iâll tell you one.
A salmon, as she swam unto the sea.
Met with a dogfish, who encounters her
With this rough language; âWhy art thou so bold
To mix thyself with our high state of floods,
Being no eminent courtier, but one
That for the calmest and fresh time oâ thâ year
Dost live in shallow rivers, rankâst thyself
With silly smelts and shrimps? And darest thou
Pass by our dog-ship without reverence?â
âO,â quoth the salmon, âsister, be at peace:
Thank Jupiter we both have passâd the net!
Our value never can be truly known,
Till in the fisherâs basket we be shown:
Iâ thâ market then my price may be the higher,
Even when I am nearest to the cook and fire.â
So to great men the moral may be stretched;
Men oft are valuâd high, when theyâre most wretched.â â
But come, whither you please. I am armâd âgainst misery;
Bent to all sways of the oppressorâs will:
Thereâs no deep valley but near some great hill.
Malfi. An apartment in the palace of the Duchess.
Enter Ferdinand and Bosala. FerdinandHow doth our sister duchess bear herself
In her imprisonment?
Nobly: Iâll describe her.
Sheâs sad as one long usâd toât, and she seems
Rather to welcome the end of misery
Than shun it; a behaviour so noble
As gives a majesty to adversity:
You may discern the shape of loveliness
More perfect in her tears than in her smiles:
She will muse for hours together; and her
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