The Duchess of Malfi: A Play

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J.M. Dent and Company, 1896 - 152 Seiten
John Webster's play "The Duchess of Malfi" is a violent play that presents a dark, disturbing portrait of the human condition... The title character is a widow with two brothers: Ferdinand and the Cardinal. In the play's opening act, the brothers try to persuade their sister not to seek a new husband. Her resistance to their wishes sets in motion a chain of secrecy, plotting, and violence. The relationship between Ferdinand and the Duchess is probably one of the most unsettling brother-sister relationships in literature. The play is full of both onstage killings and great lines. The title character is one of stage history's intriguing female characters; she is a woman whose desires lead her to defy familial pressure. Another fascinating and complex character is Bosola, who early in the play is enlisted to act as a spy. Overall, a compelling and well-written tragedy. --Michael J. Mazza at Amazon.com.
 

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Seite 100 - Not a whit: What would it pleasure me to have my throat cut With diamonds? or to be smothered With cassia? or to be shot to death with pearls? I know death hath ten thousand several doors For men to take their exits ; and 'tis found They go on such strange geometrical hinges, You may open them both ways.
Seite 8 - 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.
Seite 99 - Hark, now everything is still, The screech-owl and the whistler shrill Call upon our dame aloud, And bid her quickly don her shroud! Much you had of land and rent; Your length in clay 's now competent: A long war disturb'd your mind; Here your perfect peace is sign'd.
Seite 106 - I stand like one That long hath ta'en a sweet and golden dream: I am angry with myself, now that I wake. Ferd. Get thee into some unknown part o' th' world, That I may never see thee.
Seite 138 - Bos. Slain by my hand unwittingly. Pray, and be sudden. When thou kill'd'st thy sister, Thou took'st from Justice her most equal balance, And left her naught but her sword.
Seite 77 - Is all our train Shrunk to this poor remainder? ANT. These poor men, Which have got little in your service, vow To take your fortune : but your wiser buntings,* Now they are fledg'd, are gone.
Seite 47 - The smarting cupping-glass, for that 's the mean To purge infected blood, such blood as hers. There is a kind of pity in mine eye, — I'll give it to my handkercher; and now 'tis here, I'll bequeath this to her bastard. Card. ~ What to do? Ferd. \Why, to make soft lint for his mother's wounds, When I have hewed her to piecesT") Card.
Seite 92 - The Heaven o'er my head seems made of molten brass, The earth of flaming sulphur, yet I am not mad.
Seite 21 - 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.
Seite 97 - ... teeth, should it lie with thee, would cry out, as if thou wert the more unquiet bedfellow.

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