Читать книгу The Duchess of Malfi - Webster John - Страница 5

  CARDINAL.  We are to part from you; and your own discretion

  Must now be your director.

  FERDINAND.                  You are a widow:

  You know already what man is; and therefore

  Let not youth, high promotion, eloquence —

  CARDINAL.  No,

  Nor anything without the addition, honour,

  Sway your high blood.

  FERDINAND.             Marry! they are most luxurious18  Will wed twice.

  CARDINAL.        O, fie!

  FERDINAND.                Their livers are more spotted

  Than Laban's sheep.19

  DUCHESS.              Diamonds are of most value,

  They say, that have pass'd through most jewellers' hands.

  FERDINAND.  Whores by that rule are precious.

  DUCHESS.                                       Will you hear me?

  I 'll never marry.

  CARDINAL.           So most widows say;

  But commonly that motion lasts no longer

  Than the turning of an hour-glass:  the funeral sermon

  And it end both together.

  FERDINAND.                 Now hear me:

  You live in a rank pasture, here, i' the court;

  There is a kind of honey-dew that 's deadly;

  'T will poison your fame; look to 't.  Be not cunning;

  For they whose faces do belie their hearts

  Are witches ere they arrive at twenty years,

  Ay, and give the devil suck.

  DUCHESS.  This is terrible good counsel.

  FERDINAND.  Hypocrisy is woven of a fine small thread,

  Subtler than Vulcan's engine:20 yet, believe 't,

  Your darkest actions, nay, your privat'st thoughts,

  Will come to light.

  CARDINAL.            You may flatter yourself,

  And take your own choice; privately be married

  Under the eaves of night —

  FERDINAND.                  Think 't the best voyage

  That e'er you made; like the irregular crab,

  Which, though 't goes backward, thinks that it goes right

  Because it goes its own way:  but observe,

  Such weddings may more properly be said

  To be executed than celebrated.

  CARDINAL.                        The marriage night

  Is the entrance into some prison.

  FERDINAND.                         And those joys,

  Those lustful pleasures, are like heavy sleeps

  Which do fore-run man's mischief.

  CARDINAL.                          Fare you well.

  Wisdom begins at the end:  remember it.

  DUCHESS.  I think this speech between you both was studied,

  It came so roundly off.

  FERDINAND.               You are my sister;

  This was my father's poniard, do you see?

  I 'd be loth to see 't look rusty, 'cause 'twas his.

  I would have you give o'er these chargeable revels:

  A visor and a mask are whispering-rooms

  That were never built for goodness, – fare ye well —

  And women like variety of courtship.

  What cannot a neat knave with a smooth tale

  Make a woman believe?  Farewell, lusty widow.

  DUCHESS.  Shall this move me?  If all my royal kindred

  Lay in my way unto this marriage,

  I 'd make them my low footsteps.  And even now,

  Even in this hate, as men in some great battles,

  By apprehending danger, have achiev'd

  Almost impossible actions (I have heard soldiers say so),

  So I through frights and threatenings will assay

  This dangerous venture.  Let old wives report

  I wink'd and chose a husband. – Cariola,

  To thy known secrecy I have given up

  More than my life, – my fame.

  CARIOLA.                      Both shall be safe;

  For I 'll conceal this secret from the world

  As warily as those that trade in poison

  Keep poison from their children.

  DUCHESS.                          Thy protestation

  Is ingenious and hearty; I believe it.

  Is Antonio come?

  CARIOLA.          He attends you.

  DUCHESS.                           Good dear soul,

  Leave me; but place thyself behind the arras,

  Where thou mayst overhear us.  Wish me good speed;

  For I am going into a wilderness,

  Where I shall find nor path nor friendly clue

  To be my guide.

[Cariola goes behind the arras.]

                   I sent for you:  sit down;

  Take pen and ink, and write:  are you ready?

  ANTONIO.                                      Yes.

  DUCHESS.  What did I say?

  ANTONIO.  That I should write somewhat.

  DUCHESS.                                 O, I remember.

  After these triumphs and this large expense

  It 's fit, like thrifty husbands,21 we inquire

  What 's laid up for to-morrow.

  ANTONIO.  So please your beauteous excellence.

  DUCHESS.                                        Beauteous!

  Indeed, I thank you.  I look young for your sake;

  You have ta'en my cares upon you.

  ANTONIO.                           I 'll fetch your grace

  The particulars of your revenue and expense.

  DUCHESS.  O, you are

  An upright treasurer:  but you mistook;

  For when I said I meant to make inquiry

  What 's laid up for to-morrow, I did mean

  What 's laid up yonder for me.

  ANTONIO.                        Where?

  DUCHESS.                                In heaven.

  I am making my will (as 'tis fit princes should,

  In perfect memory), and, I pray, sir, tell me,

  Were not one better make it smiling, thus,

  Than in deep groans and terrible ghastly looks,

  As if the gifts we parted with procur'd22  That violent distraction?

  ANTONIO.                   O, much better.

  DUCHESS.  If I had a husband now, this care were quit:

  But I intend to make you overseer.

  What good deed shall we first remember?  Say.

  ANTONIO.  Begin with that first good deed began i' the world

  After man's creation, the sacrament of marriage;

  I 'd have you first provide for a good husband;

  Give him all.

  DUCHESS.       All!

  ANTONIO.             Yes, your excellent self.

  DUCHESS.  In a winding-sheet?

  ANTONIO.                       In a couple.

  DUCHESS.  Saint Winifred, that were a strange will!

  ANTONIO.  'Twere stranger23 if there were no will in you

  To marry again.

  DUCHESS.         What do you think of marriage?

  ANTONIO.  I take 't, as those that deny purgatory,

  It locally contains or heaven or hell;

  There 's no third place in 't.

  DUCHESS.                        How do you affect it?

  ANTONIO.  My banishment, feeding my melancholy,

  Would often reason thus.

  DUCHESS.                  Pray, let 's hear it.

  ANTONIO.  Say a man never marry, nor have children,

  What takes that from him?  Only the bare name

  Of being a father, or the weak delight

  To see the little wanton ride a-cock-horse

  Upon a painted stick, or hear him chatter

  Like a taught starling.

  DUCHESS.                 Fie, fie, what 's all this?

  One of your eyes is blood-shot; use my ring to 't.

  They say 'tis very sovereign.  'Twas my wedding-ring,

  And I did vow never to part with it

  But to my second husband.

  ANTONIO.  You have parted with it now.

  DUCHESS.  Yes, to help your eye-sight.

  ANTONIO.  You have made me stark blind.

  DUCHESS.  How?

  ANTONIO.  There is a saucy and ambitious devil

  Is dancing in this circle.

  DUCHESS.                    Remove him.

  ANTONIO.  How?

  DUCHESS.  There needs small conjuration, when your finger

  May do it:  thus.  Is it fit?

[She puts the ring upon his finger]: he kneels.

  ANTONIO.                       What said you?

  DUCHESS.                                       Sir,

  This goodly roof of yours is too low built;

  I cannot stand upright in 't nor discourse,

  Without I raise it higher.  Raise yourself;

  Or, if you please, my hand to help you:  so.

  ANTONIO.  Ambition, madam, is a great man's madness,

  That is not kept in chains and close-pent rooms,

  But in fair lightsome lodgings, and is girt

  With the wild noise of prattling visitants,

  Which makes it lunatic beyond all cure.

  Conceive not I am so stupid but I aim24  Whereto your favours tend:  but he 's a fool

  That, being a-cold, would thrust his hands i' the fire

  To warm them.

  DUCHESS.       So, now the ground 's broke,

  You may discover what a wealthy mine

  I make your lord of.

  ANTONIO.              O my unworthiness!

  DUCHESS.  You were ill to sell yourself:

  This dark'ning of your worth is not like that

  Which tradesmen use i' the city; their false lights

  Are to rid bad wares off:  and I must tell you,

  If you will know where breathes a complete man

  (I speak it without flattery), turn your eyes,

  And progress through yourself.

  ANTONIO.  Were there nor heaven nor hell,

  I should be honest:  I have long serv'd virtue,

  And ne'er ta'en wages of her.

  DUCHESS.                       Now she pays it.

  The misery of us that are born great!

  We are forc'd to woo, because none dare woo us;

  And as a tyrant doubles with his words,

  And fearfully equivocates, so we

  Are forc'd to express our violent passions

  In riddles and in dreams, and leave the path

  Of simple virtue, which was never made

  To seem the thing it is not.  Go, go brag

  You have left me heartless; mine is in your bosom:

  I hope 'twill multiply love there.  You do tremble:

  Make not your heart so dead a piece of flesh,

  To fear more than to love me.  Sir, be confident:

  What is 't distracts you?  This is flesh and blood, sir;

  'Tis not the figure cut in alabaster

  Kneels at my husband's tomb.  Awake, awake, man!

  I do here put off all vain ceremony,

  And only do appear to you a young widow

  That claims you for her husband, and, like a widow,

  I use but half a blush in 't.

  ANTONIO.                       Truth speak for me;

  I will remain the constant sanctuary

  Of your good name.

  DUCHESS.            I thank you, gentle love:

  And 'cause you shall not come to me in debt,

  Being now my steward, here upon your lips

  I sign your Quietus est.25  This you should have begg'd now.

  I have seen children oft eat sweetmeats thus,

  As fearful to devour them too soon.

  ANTONIO.  But for your brothers?

  DUCHESS.                          Do not think of them:

  All discord without this circumference

  Is only to be pitied, and not fear'd:

  Yet, should they know it, time will easily

  Scatter the tempest.

  ANTONIO.              These words should be mine,

  And all the parts you have spoke, if some part of it

  Would not have savour'd flattery.

  DUCHESS.  Kneel.

[Cariola comes from behind the arras.]

  ANTONIO.          Ha!

  DUCHESS.  Be not amaz'd; this woman 's of my counsel:

  I have heard lawyers say, a contract in a chamber

  Per verba [de] presenti26 is absolute marriage.

[She and ANTONIO kneel.]

  Bless, heaven, this sacred gordian27 which let violence

  Never untwine!

  ANTONIO.  And may our sweet affections, like the spheres,

  Be still in motion!

  DUCHESS.             Quickening, and make

  The like soft music!

  ANTONIO.  That we may imitate the loving palms,

  Best emblem of a peaceful marriage,

  That never bore fruit, divided!

  DUCHESS.  What can the church force more?

  ANTONIO.  That fortune may not know an accident,

  Either of joy or sorrow, to divide

  Our fixed wishes!

  DUCHESS.           How can the church build faster?28  We now are man and wife, and 'tis the church

  That must but echo this. – Maid, stand apart:

  I now am blind.

  ANTONIO.         What 's your conceit in this?

  DUCHESS.  I would have you lead your fortune by the hand

  Unto your marriage-bed:

  (You speak in me this, for we now are one:)

  We 'll only lie and talk together, and plot

  To appease my humorous29 kindred; and if you please,

  Like the old tale in ALEXANDER AND LODOWICK,

  Lay a naked sword between us, keep us chaste.

  O, let me shrowd my blushes in your bosom,

  Since 'tis the treasury of all my secrets!

  CARIOLA.  Whether the spirit of greatness or of woman

  Reign most in her, I know not; but it shows

  A fearful madness.  I owe her much of pity.