The Duchess of Malfi: A Play
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.
Was andere dazu sagen - Rezension schreiben
Es wurden keine Rezensionen gefunden.
Andere Ausgaben - Alle anzeigen
Antonio better blood body Bosola brother Card Cardinal Cari Cariola Cast cause comes court dead death Delio devil doth Duch Duchess Echo Enter excellent Exeunt Exit face fair fall fare fear Ferd Ferdinand fire follow fortune give grace grow hand hath head hear heard heart heaven hell honour horse husband I'll Julia keep lady laugh leave light live lodging look lord Madman Malfi man's marry means melancholy mind nature never night noble palace pity Play pray present prince Printed prison Quarto SCENE Second seems Serv Servant sister sleep speak stand sure tell thee there's thing thou Thou art thought true turn twas unto Webster What's wish young
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 8 - He never pays debts unless they be shrewd turns, And those he will confess that he doth owe. Last, for his 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.
Seite 24 - 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.
Seite 92 - The Heaven o'er my head seems made of molten brass, The earth of flaming sulphur, yet I am not mad.
Seite 62 - Do not forsake me ; 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.
Seite 100 - In my last will I have not much to give : A many hungry guests have fed upon me ; Thine will be a poor reversion. Can.
Seite 60 - To work thy discovery ; yet am now persuaded It would beget such violent effects As would damn us both. I would not for ten millions I had beheld thee : therefore use all means I never may have knowledge of thy name ; Enjoy thy lust still, and a wretched life, On that condition. And for thee, vild woman, If thou do wish thy lecher may grow old In thy embracements, I would have thee build Such a room for him as our anchorites To holier use inhabit.
Seite 4 - I'll tell you, If too immoderate sleep be truly said To be an inward rust unto the soul, It then doth follow want of action Breeds all black malcontents; and their close rearing, Like moths in cloth, do hurt for want of wearing. Delio. The presence 'gins to fill: you promised me To make me the partaker of the natures Of some of your great courtiers. Ant. The lord cardinal's, And other strangers' that are now in court ? I shall.
Seite 21 - Are forced 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.