The Duchess of Malfi. Webster John

but I think

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

      BOSOLA. O, sir, you are lord of the ascendant,40 chief man with

      the duchess: a duke was your cousin-german remov'd. 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 deceiv'd, 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 neighbours, makes them spoil a whole

      province, and batter down goodly cities with the cannon.

      [Enter DUCHESS and Ladies]

        DUCHESS.  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.

        BOSOLA.  The duchess us'd one when she was great with child.

        DUCHESS.  I think she did. – Come hither, mend my ruff:

        Here, when? thou art such a tedious lady; and

        Thy breath smells of lemon-pills:  would thou hadst done!

        Shall I swoon under thy fingers?  I am

        So troubled with the mother!41

        BOSOLA.  [Aside.]             I fear too much.

        DUCHESS.  I have heard you say that the French courtiers

        Wear their hats on 'fore that king.

        ANTONIO.  I have seen it.

        DUCHESS.                   In the presence?

        ANTONIO.                                     Yes.

        DUCHESS.  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.

        ANTONIO.                You must pardon me:

        I have seen, in colder countries than in France,

        Nobles stand bare to th' prince; and the distinction

        Methought show'd reverently.

        BOSOLA.  I have a present for your grace.

        DUCHESS.                                   For me, sir?

        BOSOLA.  Apricocks, madam.

        DUCHESS.                    O, sir, where are they?

        I have heard of none to-year42

        BOSOLA.  [Aside.]              Good; her colour rises.

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

        What an unskilful fellow is our gardener!

        We shall have none this month.

        BOSOLA.  Will not your grace pare them?

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

        BOSOLA.  I know not:  yet I wish your grace had par'd 'em.

        DUCHESS.  Why?

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

        Only to raise his profit by them the sooner,

        Did ripen them in horse-dung.

        DUCHESS.                       O, you jest. —

        You shall judge:  pray, taste one.

        ANTONIO.                            Indeed, madam,

        I do not love the fruit.

        DUCHESS.                  Sir, you are loth

        To rob us of our dainties.  'Tis a delicate fruit;

        They say they are restorative.

        BOSOLA.                        'Tis a pretty art,

        This grafting.

        DUCHESS.  'Tis so; a bettering of nature.

        BOSOLA.  To make a pippin grow upon a crab,

        A damson on a black-thorn. – [Aside.] How greedily she eats them!

        A whirlwind strike off these bawd farthingales!

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

        I should have discover'd apparently43

      The young springal44 cutting a caper in her belly.

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

        If they do not make me sick.

        ANTONIO.                      How now, madam!

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

        How they swell me!

        BOSOLA.  [Aside.]    Nay, you are too much swell'd already.

        DUCHESS.  O, I am in an extreme cold sweat!

        BOSOLA.                                      I am very sorry.

      [Exit.]

        DUCHESS.  Lights to my chamber! – O good Antonio,

        I fear I am undone!

        DELIO.               Lights there, lights!

      Exeunt DUCHESS [and Ladies.]

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

        I fear she 's fall'n in labour; and there 's left

        No time for her remove.

        DELIO.                   Have you prepar'd

        Those ladies to attend her; and procur'd

        That politic safe conveyance for the midwife

        Your duchess plotted?

        ANTONIO.               I have.

        DELIO.  Make use, then, of this forc'd occasion.

        Give out that Bosola hath poison'd her

        With these apricocks; that will give some colour

        For her keeping close.

        ANTONIO.                Fie, fie, the physicians

        Will then flock to her.

        DELIO.  For

40

Person of highest influence.

41

Hysteria.

42

This year.

43

Clearly.

44

Youngster.