The Duchess of Malfi quotes

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!

You enforce your merit too much.

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.

Blackbirds fatten best in hard weather; why not I in these dog-days?

Would you could become honest!

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.

He hath denied thee some suit?

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 tomorrow?

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 tomorrow?

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;

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

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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;

For that You must give great men leave to take their times.

Distrust doth cause us seldom be deceiv’d.

You see the oft shaking of the cedar-tree Fastens it more at root.

I would have you curse yourself now, that your bounty (Which makes men truly noble) e’er should make me A villain. O, that to avoid ingratitude For the good deed you have done me, I must do All the ill man can invent!

Thus the devil Candies all sins o’er; and what heaven terms vile, That names he complimental.

Be yourself; Keep your old garb of melancholy; ’twill express You envy those that stand above your reach, Yet strive not to come near ’em. This will gain Access to private lodgings, where yourself May, like a politic dormouse—

Ferdinand

Let good men, for good deeds, covet good fame, Since place and riches oft are bribes of shame.

Sometimes the devil doth preach.

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.

The marriage night Is the entrance into some prison.

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.

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.

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.

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. Raises him.

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 aim Whereto your favours tend: but he’s a fool That, being a-cold, would thrust his hands i’ the fire To warm them.

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.

Were there nor heaven nor hell, I should be honest: I have long serv’d virtue, And ne’er ta’en wages of her.

Now she pays it. The misery of us that are born great! We are forc’d to woo, because none dare woo us;

Now she pays it.

The misery of us that are born great!

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

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!

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.

How can the church build faster?

We now are man and wife, and ’tis the church That must but echo this.

—Maid, stand apart: I now am blind.

(You speak in me this, for we now are one:) We’ll only lie and talk together, and plot To appease my humorous 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!

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.

Observe my meditation now. What thing is in this outward form of man To be belov’d? We account it ominous, If nature do produce a colt, or lamb, A fawn, or goat, in any limb resembling A man, and fly from’t as a prodigy:

Man stands amaz’d to see his deformity In any other creature but himself.

But in our own flesh though we bear diseases Which have their true names only ta’en from beasts— As the most ulcerous wolf and swinish measle— Though we are eaten up of lice and worms, And though continually we bear about us A rotten and …

O, sir, you are lord of the ascendant, 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;

Mere accident.—For you, sir, I’ll take order I’ the morn you shall be safe.—Aside. ’Tis that must colour Her lying-in.—Sir, this door you pass not: I do not hold it fit that you come near The duchess’ lodgings, till you have quit yourself.— Aside.

The great are like the base, nay, they are the same, When they seek shameful ways to avoid shame.

Antonio hereabout did drop a paper:— Some of your help, false friend.—O, here it is. What’s here? a child’s nativity calculated! Reads. “The duchess was deliver’d of a son, ’tween the hours twelve and one in the night, Anno Dom.

Sooth, generally for women, A man might strive to make glass malleable, Ere he should make them fixed.

We had need go borrow that fantastic glass Invented by Galileo the Florentine To view another spacious world i’ th’ moon, And look to find a constant woman there.

This is very well, my lord.

Very fine! Is this her wit, or honesty, that speaks thus? I heard one say the duke was highly mov’d With a letter sent from Malfi. I do fear Antonio is betray’d. How fearfully Shows his ambition now! Unfortunate fortune!

They pass through whirlpools, and deep woes do shun, Who the event weigh ere the action’s done.

Another apartment in the same palace.

Yes, [but] I can be angry Without this rupture.

There is not in nature A thing that makes man so deform’d, so beastly, As doth intemperate anger.

Chide yourself. You have divers men who never yet express’d Their strong desire of rest but by unrest, By vexing of themselves. Come, put yourself In tune.

He is so quiet that he seems to sleep The tempest out, as dormice do in winter.

Those houses that are haunted are most still Till the devil be up.

What say the common people?

Fie upon him! A count!

He’s a mere stick of sugar-candy; You may look quite through him.

When I choose A husband, I will marry for your honour.

No, sir: I will plant my soul in mine ears, to hear you.

O most imperfect light of human reason, That mak’st [us] so unhappy to foresee What we can least prevent!

Pursue thy wishes, And glory in them: there’s in shame no comfort But to be past all bounds and sense of shame.

for it is my nature, If once I part from any man I meet, I am never found again.” And so for you: You have shook hands with Reputation, And made him invisible. So, fare you well: I will never see you more.

Why should only I, Of all the other princes of the world, Be cas’d up, like a holy relic?

I have youth And a little beauty.

How now! who knocks? More earthquakes?

I stand As if a mine beneath my feet were ready To be blown up.

Away! O misery! methinks unjust actions Should wear these masks and curtains, and not we. You must instantly part hence: I have fashion’d it already.

thought none happy But such as were born under his blest planet, And wore his livery: and do these lice drop off now? Well, never look to have the like again: He hath left a sort of flattering rogues behind him; Their doom must follow.

Princes pay flatterers In their own money: flatterers dissemble their vices, And they dissemble their lies; that’s justice.

Alas, poor gentleman!

a soldier that thought it As beastly to know his own value too little As devilish to acknowledge it too much. Both his virtue and form deserv’d a far better fortune: His discourse rather delighted to judge itself than show itself:

His breast was fill’d with all perfection, And yet it seemed a private whisp’ring-room, It made so little noise of’t.

But he was basely descended.

But he was basely descended.

Will you make yourself a mercenary herald, Rather to examine men’s pedigrees than virtues?

You shall want him: For know an honest statesman to a prince Is like a cedar planted by a spring; The spring bathes the tree’s root, the grateful tree Rewards it with his shadow: you have not done so.

This good one that you speak of is my husband.

Do I not dream? Can this ambitious age Have so much goodness in’t as to prefer A man merely for worth, without these shadows Of wealth and painted honours?

Possible?

Thou art a superstitious fool: Prepare us instantly for our departure.

Past sorrows, let us moderately lament them, For those to come, seek wisely to prevent them.

A politician is the devil’s quilted anvil; He fashions all sins on him, and the blows Are never heard: he may work in a lady’s chamber, As here for proof. What rests but I reveal All to my lord? O, this base quality Of intelligencer!

Alas, Antonio! If that a man be thrust into a well, No matter who sets hand to’t, his own weight Will bring him sooner to th’ bottom. Come, let’s hence.

Fortune makes this conclusion general, All things do help th’ unhappy man to fall.

Enter Duchess, Antonio, Children, Cariola, and Servants.

My interpretation Is, you’ll weep shortly; for to me the pearls Do signify your tears.

The birds that live i’ th’ field On the wild benefit of nature live Happier than we; for they may choose their mates, And carol their sweet pleasures to the spring.

Enter Bosala with a letter.

I know not which is best, To see you dead, or part with you.—Farewell, boy:

Thou art happy that thou hast not understanding To know thy misery; for all our wit And reading brings us to a truer sense Of sorrow.

—In the eternal church, sir, I do hope we shall not part thus.

Let me look upon you once more, for that speech Came from a dying father. Your kiss is colder Than that I have seen an holy anchorite Give to a dead man’s skull.

My heart is turn’d to a heavy lump of lead, With which I sound my danger: fare you well.

Exeunt Antonio and his son.

Our value never can be truly known, Till in the fisher’s basket we be shown: I’ th’ market then my price may be the higher, Even when I am nearest to the cook and fire.” So to great men the moral may be stretched;

Men oft are valu’d high, when they’re most wretched.

— But come, whither you please. I am arm’d ’gainst misery; Bent to all sways of the oppressor’s will: There’s no deep valley but near some great hill.

Nobly: I’ll describe her. She’s sad as one long us’d to’t, and she seems Rather to welcome the end of misery Than shun it; a behaviour so noble As gives a majesty to adversity:

You may discern the shape of loveliness More perfect in her tears than in her smiles:

She will muse for hours together; and her silence, Methinks, expresseth more than if she spake.

Indeed, I thank him.

Nothing but noise and folly Can keep me in my right wits; whereas reason And silence make me stark mad.

Sit down; Discourse to me some dismal tragedy.

I am not mad yet, to my cause of sorrow: Th’ heaven o’er my head seems made of molten brass, The earth of flaming sulphur, yet I am not mad. I am acquainted with sad misery As the tann’d galley-slave is with his oar;

Necessity makes me suffer constantly, And custom makes it easy.

Who do I look like now?

Doom’s-day not come yet! I’ll draw it nearer by a perspective, or make a glass that shall set all the world on fire upon an instant.

I cannot sleep; my pillow is stuffed with a litter of porcupines.

Hell is a mere glasshouse, where the devils are continually blowing up women’s souls on hollow irons, and the fire never goes out.

Come on, sir, I will lay the law to you.

O, rather lay a corrosive: the law will eat to the bone.

He that drinks but to satisfy nature is damn’d.

Thou art a box of wormseed, at best but a salvatory of green mummy. What’s this flesh? a little crudded milk, fantastical puff-paste.

Our bodies are weaker than those paper-prisons boys use to keep flies in; more contemptible, since ours is to preserve earthworms.

Didst thou ever see a lark in a cage? Such is the soul in the body:

Thou sleepest worse than if a mouse should be forced to take up her lodging in a cat’s ear: a little infant that breeds its teeth, should it lie with thee, would cry out, as if thou wert the more unquiet bedfellow.

I am Duchess of Malfi still.

That makes thy sleep so broken: Glories, like glowworms, afar off shine bright, But, look’d to near, have neither heat nor light.

That makes thy sleep so broken:

Glories, like glowworms, afar off shine bright, But, look’d to near, have neither heat nor light.

My trade is to flatter the dead, not the living; I am a tomb-maker.

Why doth your lordship love this solitariness?

Eagles commonly fly alone: they are crows, daws, and starlings that flock together.

Look, what’s that follows me?

I do love these ancient ruins.

We never tread upon them but we set Our foot upon some reverend history;

And, questionless, here in this open court, Which now lies naked to the injuries Of stormy weather, some men lie interr’d Lov’d the church so well, and gave so largely to’t, They thought it should have canopied their bones Till doomsday.