The Duchess of Malfi. Webster John

        DELIO.  The presence 'gins to fill:  you promis'd me

        To make me the partaker of the natures

        Of some of your great courtiers.

        ANTONIO.                          The lord cardinal's

        And other strangers' that are now in court?

        I shall. – Here comes the great Calabrian duke.

        FERDINAND.  Who took the ring oftenest?4

        SILVIO.  Antonio Bologna, my lord.

      FERDINAND. Our sister duchess' great-master of her household?

      Give him the jewel. – When shall we leave this sportive action,

      and fall to action indeed?

      CASTRUCCIO. Methinks, my lord, you should not desire to go to war

      in person.

        FERDINAND.  Now for some gravity. – Why, my lord?

      CASTRUCCIO. It is fitting a soldier arise to be a prince, but not

      necessary a prince descend to be a captain.

        FERDINAND.  No?

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

      FERDINAND. 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.

      CASTRUCCIO. Believe my experience, that realm is never long in quiet

      where the ruler is a soldier.

        FERDINAND.  Thou toldest me thy wife could not endure fighting.

        CASTRUCCIO.  True, my lord.

      FERDINAND. And of a jest she broke of5 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

      chirurgeons7 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'd9 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.

        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