The Duchess of Malfi | Page 5

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.
RODERIGO, GRISOLAN. Ha, ha, ha!
FERDINAND. Why do you laugh? Methinks you that are courtiers
should be my touch-wood, take fire when I give fire; that is, laugh
when I laugh, were the subject never so witty.
CASTRUCCIO. True, my lord: I myself have heard a very good jest,
and have scorn'd to seem to have so silly a wit as to understand it.
FERDINAND. But I can laugh at your fool, my lord.
CASTRUCCIO. He cannot speak, you know, but he makes faces; my
lady cannot abide him.
FERDINAND. No?
CASTRUCCIO. Nor endure to be in merry company; for she says too
much laughing, and too much company, fills her too full of the wrinkle.
FERDINAND. I would, then, have a mathematical instrument made for
her face, that she might not laugh out of compass.--I shall shortly visit
you at Milan, Lord Silvio.
SILVIO. Your grace shall arrive most welcome.
FERDINAND. You are a good horseman, Antonio; you have excellent
riders in France: what do you think of good horsemanship?
ANTONIO. Nobly, my lord: as out of the Grecian horse issued many
famous princes, so out of brave horsemanship arise the first sparks of
growing resolution, that raise the mind to noble action.
FERDINAND. You have bespoke it worthily.
SILVIO. Your brother, the lord cardinal, and sister duchess.
[Enter CARDINAL, with DUCHESS, and CARIOLA]
CARDINAL. Are the galleys come about?
GRISOLAN. They are, my lord.
FERDINAND. Here 's the Lord Silvio is come to take his leave.
DELIO. Now, sir, your promise: what 's that cardinal? I mean his
temper? They say he 's a brave fellow, Will play his five thousand
crowns at tennis, dance, Court ladies, and one that hath fought single
combats.
ANTONIO. Some such flashes superficially hang on him for form; but
observe his inward character: he is a melancholy churchman. The
spring in his face is nothing but the engend'ring of toads; where he is

jealous of any man, he lays worse plots for them than ever was impos'd
on Hercules, for he strews in his way flatterers, panders, intelligencers,
atheists, and a thousand such political monsters. He should have been
Pope; but instead of coming to it by the primitive decency of the church,
he did bestow bribes so largely and so impudently as if he would have
carried it away without heaven's knowledge. Some good he hath
done----
DELIO. You have given too much of him. What 's his brother?
ANTONIO. The duke there? A most perverse and turbulent nature.
What appears in him mirth is merely outside; If he laught heartily, it is
to laugh All honesty out of fashion.
DELIO. Twins?
ANTONIO. In quality. He speaks with others' tongues, and hears men's
suits With others' ears; will seem to sleep o' the bench Only to entrap
offenders in their answers; Dooms men to death by information;
Rewards by hearsay.
DELIO. Then the law to him Is like a foul, black cobweb to a spider,--
He makes it his dwelling and a prison To entangle those shall feed him.
ANTONIO. Most true: He never pays debts unless they be shrewd
turns, And those he will confess that he doth owe. Last, for this brother
there, the cardinal, They that do flatter him most say oracles Hang at
his lips; and verily I believe them, For the devil speaks in them. But for
their sister, the right noble duchess, You never fix'd your eye on three
fair medals Cast in one figure, of so different temper. For her discourse,
it is so full of rapture, You only will begin then to be sorry When she
doth end her speech, and wish, in wonder, She held it less vain-glory to
talk much, Than your penance to hear her. Whilst she speaks, She
throws upon a man so sweet a look That it were able to raise one to a
galliard.<10> That lay in a dead palsy, and to dote On that sweet
countenance; but in that look There speaketh so