I am come to tell you Your brother hath intended you some sport. A great physician, when the Pope was sick Of a deep melancholy, presented him With several sorts (106) of madmen, which wild object Being full of change and sport, forc'd him to laugh, And so the imposthume (107) broke: the self-same cure The duke intends on you. (DUCHESS: Let them come in.) There 's a mad lawyer; and a secular priest; A doctor that hath forfeited his wits By jealousy; an astrologian That in his works said such a day o' the month Should be the day of doom, and, failing of 't, Ran mad; an English tailor craz'd i' the brain With the study of new fashions; a gentleman-usher Quite beside himself with care to keep in mind The number of his lady's salutations Or 'How do you,' she employ'd him in each morning; A farmer, too, an excellent knave in grain, (108) Mad 'cause he was hind'red transportation: (109) And let one broker that 's mad loose to these, You'd think the devil were among them.

Servant Monologue from The Duchess of Malfi

Rehearse Servant's monologue