The Duchess of Malfi John Webster (intellectual books to read TXT) š
- Author: John Webster
Book online Ā«The Duchess of Malfi John Webster (intellectual books to read TXT) šĀ». Author John Webster
Pray, question him. Iāll leave you.
Exeunt Servant and Madmen. BosolaI am come to make thy tomb.
DuchessHa! my tomb!
Thou speakāst as if I lay upon my deathbed,
Gasping for breath. Dost thou perceive me sick?
Yes, and the more dangerously, since thy sickness is insensible.
DuchessThou art not mad, sure: dost know me?
BosolaYes.
DuchessWho am I?
Bosola Thou art a box of wormseed, at best but a salvatory102 of green mummy.103 Whatās this flesh? a little crudded104 milk, fantastical puff-paste. Our bodies are weaker than those paper-prisons boys use to keep flies in; more contemptible, since ours is to preserve earthworms. Didst thou ever see a lark in a cage? Such is the soul in the body: this world is like her little turf of grass, and the heaven oāer our heads like her looking-glass, only gives us a miserable knowledge of the small compass of our prison. DuchessAm not I thy duchess?
Bosola Thou art some great woman, sure, for riot begins to sit on thy forehead (clad in gray hairs) twenty years sooner than on a merry milkmaidās. Thou sleepest worse than if a mouse should be forced to take up her lodging in a catās ear: a little infant that breeds its teeth, should it lie with thee, would cry out, as if thou wert the more unquiet bedfellow. DuchessI am Duchess of Malfi still.
BosolaThat makes thy sleep so broken:
Glories, like glowworms, afar off shine bright,
But, lookād to near, have neither heat nor light.
Let me know fully therefore the effect
Of this thy dismal preparation,
This talk fit for a charnel.
Now I shall:ā ā
Enter Executioners, with a coffin, cords, and a bell.Here is a present from your princely brothers;
And may it arrive welcome, for it brings
Last benefit, last sorrow.
Let me see it:
I have so much obedience in my blood,
I wish it in their veins to do them good.
This is your last presence-chamber.
CariolaO my sweet lady!
DuchessPeace; it affrights not me.
BosolaI am the common bellman
That usually is sent to condemnād persons
The night before they suffer.
Even now thou saidāst
Thou wast a tomb-maker.
āTwas to bring you
By degrees to mortification. Listen.
Hark, now everything is still,
The screech-owl and the whistler shrill
Call upon our dame aloud,
And bid her quickly don her shroud!
Much you had of land and rent;
Your length in clayās now competent:
A long war disturbād your mind;
Here your perfect peace is signād.
Of what isāt fools make such vain keeping?
Sin their conception, their birth weeping,
Their life a general mist of error,
Their death a hideous storm of terror.
Strew your hair with powders sweet,
Don clean linen, bathe your feet,
And (the foul fiend more to check)
A crucifix let bless your neck.
āTis now full tide ātween night and day;
End your groan, and come away.
Hence, villains, tyrants, murderers! Alas!
What will you do with my lady?ā āCall for help!
To whom? To our next neighbours? They are mad-folks.
BosolaRemove that noise.
DuchessFarewell, Cariola.
In my last will I have not much to give:
A many hungry guests have fed upon me;
Thine will be a poor reversion.
I will die with her.
DuchessI pray thee, look thou givāst my little boy
Some syrup for his cold, and let the girl
Say her prayers ere she sleep.
Now what you please:
What death?
Strangling; here are your executioners.
DuchessI forgive them:
The apoplexy, catarrh, or cough oā thā lungs,
Would do as much as they do.
Doth not death fright you?
DuchessWho would be afraid onāt,
Knowing to meet such excellent company
In thā other world?
Yet, methinks,
The manner of your death should much afflict you:
This cord should terrify you.
Not a whit:
What would it pleasure me to have my throat cut
With diamonds? or to be smothered
With cassia? or to be shot to death with pearls?
I know death hath ten thousand several doors
For men to take their exits; and ātis found
They go on such strange geometrical hinges,
You may open them both ways: any way, for heaven-sake,
So I were out of your whispering. Tell my brothers
That I perceive death, now I am well awake,
Best gift is they can give or I can take.
I would fain put off my last womanās-fault,
Iād not be tedious to you.
We are ready.
DuchessDispose my breath how please you; but my body
Bestow upon my women, will you?
Yes.
DuchessPull, and pull strongly, for your able strength
Must pull down heaven upon me:ā ā
Yet stay; heaven-gates are not so highly archād
As princesā palaces; they that enter there
Must go upon their knees. Kneels.ā āCome, violent death,
Serve for mandragora to make me sleep!ā ā
Go tell my brothers, when I am laid out,
They then may feed in quiet.
Whereās the waiting-woman?
Fetch her: some other strangle the children.
Look you, there sleeps your mistress.
CariolaO, you are damnād
Perpetually for this! My turn is next;
Isāt not so ordered?
Yes, and I am glad
You are so well preparād forāt.
Comments (0)