The Duchess of Malfi by John Webster (books to read for teens .txt) 📕
Description
John Webster was a later contemporary of Shakespeare, and The Duchess of Malfi, Webster’s best known play, is considered among the best of the period. It appears to have been first performed in 1612–13 at the Blackfriars before moving on to the larger and more famous Globe Theatre, and was later published in 1623.
The play is loosely based on a real Duchess of Amalfi, a widow who marries beneath her station. On learning of this, her brothers become enraged and vow their revenge. Soon the intrigue, deceit, and murders begin. Marked by the period’s love of spectacular violence, each character exacts his revenge, and in turn suffers vengeance at the hands of others. Coming after Shakespeare’s equally sanguine Hamlet and Kyd’s The Spanish Tragedy, Webster’s The Duchess of Malfi brings to a close the era of the great Senecan tragedies of blood and revenge. As the Jacobean period progressed, the spectacle became more violent and dark, reflecting the public’s growing dissatisfaction with the corruption of King James’ court.
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- Author: John Webster
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You shall not watch tonight by the sick prince;
His grace is very well recover’d.
Good my lord, suffer us.
CardinalO, by no means;
The noise, and change of object in his eye,
Doth more distract him. I pray, all to bed;
And though you hear him in his violent fit,
Do not rise, I entreat you.
So, sir; we shall not.
CardinalNay, I must have you promise
Upon your honours, for I was enjoin’d to’t
By himself; and he seem’d to urge it sensibly.
Let our honours bind this trifle.
CardinalNor any of your followers.
MalatestiNeither.
CardinalIt may be, to make trial of your promise,
When he’s asleep, myself will rise and feign
Some of his mad tricks, and cry out for help,
And feign myself in danger.
If your throat were cutting,
I’d not come at you, now I have protested against it.
Why, I thank you.
Grisolan’Twas a foul storm tonight.
RoderigoThe Lord Ferdinand’s chamber shook like an osier.
Malatesti’Twas nothing put pure kindness in the devil
To rock his own child.
The reason why I would not suffer these
About my brother, is, because at midnight
I may with better privacy convey
Julia’s body to her own lodging. O, my conscience!
I would pray now; but the devil takes away my heart
For having any confidence in prayer.
About this hour I appointed Bosola
To fetch the body. When he hath serv’d my turn,
He dies.
Ha! ’twas the cardinal’s voice; I heard him name
Bosola and my death. Listen; I hear one’s footing.
Strangling is a very quiet death.
BosolaAside. Nay, then, I see I must stand upon my guard.
Ferdinand What say to that? Whisper softly: do you agree to’t? So; it must be done i’ th’ dark; the cardinal would not for a thousand pounds the doctor should see it. Exit. BosolaMy death is plotted; here’s the consequence of murder.
We value not desert nor Christian breath,
When we know black deeds must be cur’d with death.
Here stay, sir, and be confident, I pray;
I’ll fetch you a dark lantern.
Could I take him at his prayers,
There were hope of pardon.
Fall right, my sword!—Stabs him.
I’ll not give thee so much leisure as to pray.
O, I am gone! Thou hast ended a long suit
In a minute.
What art thou?
AntonioA most wretched thing,
That only have thy benefit in death,
To appear myself.
Where are you, sir?
AntonioVery near my home.—Bosola!
ServantO, misfortune!
BosolaSmother thy pity, thou art dead else.—Antonio!
The man I would have sav’d ’bove mine own life!
We are merely the stars’ tennis-balls, struck and banded
Which way please them.—O good Antonio,
I’ll whisper one thing in thy dying ear
Shall make thy heart break quickly! Thy fair duchess
And two sweet children—
Their very names
Kindle a little life in me.
Are murder’d.
AntonioSome men have wish’d to die
At the hearing of sad tidings; I am glad
That I shall do’t in sadness.118 I would not now
Wish my wounds balm’d nor heal’d, for I have no use
To put my life to. In all our quest of greatness,
Like wanton boys whose pastime is their care,
We follow after bubbles blown in th’ air.
Pleasure of life, what is’t? Only the good hours
Of an ague; merely a preparative to rest,
To endure vexation. I do not ask
The process of my death; only commend me
To Delio.
Break, heart!
AntonioAnd let my son fly the courts to princes. Dies.
BosolaThou seem’st to have lov’d Antonio.
ServantI brought him hither,
To have reconcil’d him to the cardinal.
I do not ask thee that.
Take him up, if thou tender thine own life,
And bear him where the lady Julia
Was wont to lodge.—O, my fate moves swift!
I have this cardinal in the forge already;
Now I’ll bring him to th’ hammer. O direful misprision!119
I will not imitate things glorious.
No more than base; I’ll be mine own example.—
On, on, and look thou represent, for silence,
The thing thou bear’st.120
Another apartment in the same.
Enter Cardinal, with a book. CardinalI am puzzl’d in a question about hell;
He says, in hell there’s one material fire,
And yet it shall not burn all men alike.
Lay him by. How tedious is a guilty conscience!
When I look into the fishponds in my garden,
Methinks I see a thing arm’d with a rake,
That seems to strike at me.
Now, art thou come?
Thou look’st ghastly;
There sits in thy face some great determination
Mix’d with some fear.
Thus it lightens into action:
I am come to kill thee.
Ha!—Help! our guard!
BosolaThou art deceiv’d; they are out of thy howling.
CardinalHold; and I will faithfully divide
Revenues with thee.
Thy prayers and proffers
Are both unseasonable.
Raise the watch!
We are betray’d!
I have confin’d your flight:
I’ll suffer your retreat to Julia’s chamber,
But no further.
Help! we are betray’d!
Enter, above, Pescara, Malatesti, Roderigo, and Grisolan. MalatestiListen.
CardinalMy dukedom for rescue!
RoderigoFie upon his counterfeiting!
MalatestiWhy, ’tis not the cardinal.
RoderigoYes, yes, ’tis he:
But, I’ll see him hang’d ere I’ll go down to him.
Here’s a plot upon me; I am assaulted! I am lost,
Unless some rescue!
He doth this pretty well;
But it will not serve to laugh me out of mine honour.
The sword’s at my throat!
RoderigoYou would not bawl so loud then.
MalatestiCome, come, let’s go to bed: he told us this much aforehand.
PescaraHe wish’d
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