The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Duchess of Malfi, by John Webster

This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with

almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or

re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included

with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org

Title: The Duchess of Malfi

Author: John Webster

Release Date: June, 2000 [EBook #2232]

Last Updated: February 7, 2013

Language: English

*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DUCHESS OF MALFI ***

Produced by Gary R. Young and David Widger

THE DUCHESS OF MALFI

by John Webster

CONTENTS

INTRODUCTORY NOTE

THE DUCHESS OF MALFI

FOOTNOTES:

INTRODUCTORY NOTE

Of John Webster's life almost nothing is known. The dates 1580-1625 given for his birth and death are conjectural inferences, about which the best that can be said is that no known facts contradict them.

The first notice of Webster so far discovered shows that he was collaborating in the production of plays for the theatrical manager, Henslowe, in 1602, and of such collaboration he seems to have done a considerable amount. Four plays exist which he wrote alone, The White Devil, The Duchess of Malfi, The Devil's Law-Case, and Appius and Virginia.

The Duchess of Malfi was published in 1623, but the date of writing may have been as early as 1611. It is based on a story in Painter's Palace of Pleasure, translated from the Italian novelist, Bandello; and it is entirely possible that it has a foundation in fact. In any case, it portrays with a terrible vividness one side of the court life of the Italian Renaissance; and its picture of the fierce quest of pleasure, the recklessness of crime, and the worldliness of the great princes of the Church finds only too ready corroboration in the annals of the time.

Webster's tragedies come toward the close of the great series of tragedies of blood and revenge, in which The Spanish Tragedy and Hamlet are landmarks, but before decadence can fairly be said to have set in. He, indeed, loads his scene with horrors almost past the point which modern taste can bear; but the intensity of his dramatic situations, and his superb power of flashing in a single line a light into the recesses of the human heart at the crises of supreme emotion, redeems him from mere sensationalism, and places his best things in the first rank of dramatic writing.

THE DUCHESS OF MALFI

Dramatis Personae:

FERDINAND [Duke of Calabria].

CARDINAL [his brother].

ANTONIO [BOLOGNA, Steward of the Household to the Duchess].

DELIO [his friend].

DANIEL DE BOSOLA [Gentleman of the Horse to the Duchess].

[CASTRUCCIO, an old Lord].

MARQUIS OF PESCARA.

[COUNT] MALATESTI.

RODERIGO, ]

SILVIO, ] [Lords].

GRISOLAN, ]

DOCTOR.

The Several Madmen.

DUCHESS [OF MALFI].

CARIOLA [her woman].

[JULIA, Castruccio's wife, and] the Cardinal's mistress.

[Old Lady].

Ladies, Three Young Children, Two Pilgrims, Executioners,

Court Officers, and Attendants.

       ACT I

       SCENE I[1]

       [Enter] ANTONIO and DELIO

  DELIO.  You are welcome to your country, dear Antonio;

  You have been long in France, and you return

  A very formal Frenchman in your habit:

  How do you like the French court?

  ANTONIO.                          I admire it:

  In seeking to reduce both state and people

  To a fix'd order, their judicious king

  Begins at home; quits first his royal palace

  Of flattering sycophants, of dissolute

  And infamous persons,—which he sweetly terms

  His master's master-piece, the work of heaven;

  Considering duly that a prince's court

  Is like a common fountain, whence should flow

  Pure silver drops in general, but if 't chance

  Some curs'd example poison 't near the head,

  Death and diseases through the whole land spread.

  And what is 't makes this blessed government

  But a most provident council, who dare freely

  Inform him the corruption of the times?

  Though some o' the court hold it presumption

  To instruct princes what they ought to do,

  It is a noble duty to inform them

  What they ought to foresee.[2]—Here comes Bosola,

  The only court-gall; yet I observe his railing

  Is not for simple love of piety:

  Indeed, he rails at those things which he wants;

  Would be as lecherous, covetous, or proud,

  Bloody, or envious, as any man,

  If he had means to be so.—Here's the cardinal.

       [Enter CARDINAL and BOSOLA]

  BOSOLA.  I do haunt you still.

  CARDINAL.  So.

  BOSOLA.  I have done you better service than to be slighted thus.

  Miserable age, where only the reward of doing well is the doing

  of it!

  CARDINAL.  You enforce your merit too much.

  BOSOLA.  I fell into the galleys in your service:  where, for two

  years together, I wore two towels instead of a shirt, with a knot

  on the shoulder, after the fashion of a Roman mantle.  Slighted thus!

  I will thrive some way.  Black-birds fatten best in hard weather;

  why not I in these dog-days?

  CARDINAL.  Would you could become honest!

  BOSOLA.  With all your divinity do but direct me the way to it.

  I have known many travel far for it, and yet return as arrant knaves

  as they went forth, because they carried themselves always along with

  them.  [Exit CARDINAL.] Are you gone?  Some fellows, they say,

  are possessed with the devil, but this great fellow were able

  to possess the greatest devil, and make him worse.

  ANTONIO.  He hath denied thee some suit?

  BOSOLA.  He and his brother are like plum-trees that grow crooked

  over standing-pools; they are rich and o'erladen with fruit, but none

  but crows, pies, and caterpillars feed on them.  Could I be one

  of their flattering panders, I would hang on their ears like a

  horseleech, till I were full, and then drop off.  I pray, leave me.

  Who would rely upon these miserable dependencies, in expectation

  to be advanc'd to-morrow?  What creature ever fed worse than hoping

  Tantalus?  Nor ever died any man more fearfully than he that hoped

  for a pardon.  There are rewards for hawks and dogs when they have

  done us service; but for a soldier that hazards his limbs in a

  battle, nothing but a kind of geometry is his last supportation.

  DELIO.  Geometry?

  BOSOLA.  Ay, to hang in a fair pair of slings, take his latter swing

  in the world upon an honourable pair of crutches, from hospital

  to hospital.  Fare ye well, sir:  and yet do not you scorn us;

  for places in the court are but like beds in the hospital, where

  this man's head lies at that man's foot, and so lower and lower.

       [Exit.]

  DELIO.  I knew this fellow seven years in the galleys

  For a notorious murder; and 'twas thought

  The cardinal suborn'd it:  he was releas'd

  By the French general, Gaston de Foix,

  When he recover'd Naples.

  ANTONIO.                  'Tis great pity

  He should be thus neglected:  I have heard

  He 's very valiant.  This foul melancholy

  Will poison all his goodness; for, I 'll tell you,

  If too immoderate sleep be truly said

  To be an inward rust unto the soul,

  If then doth follow want of action

  Breeds all black malcontents; and their close rearing,

  Like moths in cloth, do hurt for want of wearing.

       SCENE II[3]

       ANTONIO, DELIO, [Enter SILVIO, CASTRUCCIO, JULIA, RODERIGO

       and GRISOLAN]

  DELIO.  The presence 'gins to fill:  you promis'd me

  To make me the partaker of the natures

  Of some of your great courtiers.

  ANTONIO.                          The lord cardinal's

  And other strangers' that are now in court?

  I shall.—Here comes the great Calabrian duke.

       [Enter FERDINAND and Attendants]

  FERDINAND.  Who took the ring oftenest?[4]

  SILVIO.  Antonio Bologna, my lord.

  FERDINAND.  Our sister duchess' great-master of her household?

  Give him the jewel.—When shall we leave this sportive action,

  and fall to action indeed?

  CASTRUCCIO.  Methinks, my lord, you should not desire to go to war

  in person.

  FERDINAND.  Now for some gravity.—Why, my lord?

  CASTRUCCIO.  It is fitting a soldier arise to be a prince, but not

  necessary a prince descend to be a captain.

  FERDINAND.  No?

  CASTRUCCIO.  No, my lord; he were far better do it by a deputy.

  FERDINAND.  Why should he not as well sleep or eat by a deputy?

  This might take idle, offensive, and base office from him, whereas

  the other deprives him of honour.

  CASTRUCCIO.  Believe my experience, that realm is never long in quiet

  where the ruler is a soldier.

  FERDINAND.  Thou toldest me thy wife could not endure fighting.

  CASTRUCCIO.  True, my lord.

  FERDINAND.  And of a jest she broke of[5] a captain she met full of

  wounds:  I have forgot it.

  CASTRUCCIO.  She told him, my lord, he was a pitiful fellow, to lie,

  like the children of Ismael, all in tents.[6]

  FERDINAND.  Why, there's a wit were able to undo all the

  chirurgeons[7] o' the city; for although gallants should quarrel,

  and had drawn their weapons, and were ready to go to it, yet her

  persuasions would make them put up.

  CASTRUCCIO.  That she would, my lord.—How do you like my Spanish

  gennet?[8]

  RODERIGO.  He is all fire.

  FERDINAND.  I am of Pliny's opinion, I think he was begot

  by the wind; he runs as if he were ballass'd[9] with quicksilver.

  SILVIO.  True, my lord, he reels from the tilt often.