So far, this book has argued that the distinctive atmospheres of early modern revenge tragedies derive, in significant measure, from the subtle shaping influence of classical ideas conventionally overlooked in existing literary criticism. In this final chapter, I’d like to turn to the Stoicism of John Webster's The Duchess of Malfi in order to examine the extensive influence and the full performative force of classical ideas previously acknowledged as present within Webster's play but only in a markedly narrow and circumscribed way. Though occupied with other matters, we have witnessed in each preceding chapter hints of the limited philosophical horizons traditionally attributed to revenge tragedy through the various protagonists’ flirtation with the idea of Stoic resignation. From Hieronimo's ambiguous declaration of vindicta mihi (does he invoke here Seneca or St Paul?) to Titus’ temporary pause before giving vent to his own fury to Hamlet's envy of Horatio (who, ‘hast been / as one in suffering all, that suffers nothing’) to Antonio and Pandulpho's repudiation of Stoic quiescence (‘’tis naught / But foamy bubbling of a fleamy brain’ and ‘man will break out despite philosophy’), Stoicism has emerged as something to be considered, at times deeply desired, but always discarded, and, in some instances, outright mocked. Such is the more familiar ground of revenge tragedy's engagement with classical philosophy. But while these flashes of Stoic thought appear amid the tempestuous happenings of other plays, John Webster's The Duchess of Malfi has long been understood as especially indebted to this philosophical lineage, second only to George Chapman's Bussy d’Ambois in its sympathetic approach toward, even valorisation of, Stoic ideals. Curiously, however, our understanding of the play's investment in this particular strand of classical philosophy has remained unaccountably restricted to the moment of the Duchess’ death itself. In her resolute confrontation of imminent, violent death – most notably her defiant declaration ‘I am Duchess of Malfi still’ – critics have rightly marked one of the early modern stage's paradigmatic moments of Stoic resolve. But what of the rest of the play?