Fior. Treason to wedlock! this would make

you sweat.

Fern. Lady, of all* *

* what I am,

as before,

To survive you, or I will see you first
Or widowed or buried: if the last,
By all the comfort I can wish to taste,
By your
fair eyes, that sepulchre that holds
Your coffin, shall incoffin me alive;

I sign it with this seal.

Fior. Ignoble strumpet!

[Kisses her.

Bian. You shall not swear; take off that oath

again,

Or thus I will enforce it.

[Kisses him.

Fern. Use that force,

And make me perjured; for whilst your lips

Are made the book, it is a sport to swear,
And glory to forswear.

Fior. Here's fast and loose!

Which, for a ducat, now the game's on foot?

Whilst they are kissing, the DUKE and D'AVOLOS, with their swords drawn, appear at the door. Col. (within.) Help, help! madam, you are betrayed, madam; help, help!

Fern. Lady, of all, &c.] Here occurs one of the greatest lacunæ in all Ford's works. Some lines appear to be quite lost, and the fragments of others that remain cannot be distributed with any certainty. Even the concluding part of Fiormonda's speech should perhaps be transferred elsewhere.

D'Av. Is there confidence in credit, now, sir? belief in your own eyes? do you see? do you see, sir? can you behold it without lightning?

Col. (within.) Help, madam, help!

Fern. What noise is that? I heard one cry. Duke. (comes forward.) Ha! did you? Know you who I am?

Fern. Yes; thou art Pavy's duke,

Drest like a hangman: see, I am unarm❜d,

Yet do not fear thee; though the coward doubt Of what I could have done hath made thee steal The advantage of this time, yet, duke, I dare Thy worst, for murder sits upon thy cheeks: To't, man.

Duke. I am too angry in my rage,

To scourge thee unprovided; [Enter PETRUCHIO and NIBRASSA with a guard] take him

hence:

Away with him.

Fern. Unhand me!

D'Av. You must go, sir.

[They seize FERN.

Fern. Duke, do not shame thy manhood to lay

hands

On that most innocent lady."

Duke. Yet again!

Confine him to his chamber.

[Exeunt D'Av. and the guard with FERN.

"Our author seems to have very loose notions of female honour. He certainly goes much beyond his age, which was far enough from squeamish on this point, in terming Bianca innocent. She is, in fact, a gross and profligate adulteress, and her ridiculous reservations, while they mark her lubricity, only enhance her shame.

Leave us all;

None stay, not one, shut up the doors.

[Exeunt PET. and NIB. Fior. Now show thyself my brother, brave Ca

raffa.

Duke. Woman, stand forth before me;-wretched whore,

What canst thou hope for?

Bian. Death; I wish no less. You told me you had dreamt; and, gentle duke, Unless you be mistook, you are now awaked.

Duke. Strumpet, I am; and in my hand hold The edge that must uncut thy twist of life: Dost thou not shake?

Bian. For what? to see a weak,

Faint, trembling arm advance a leaden blade? Alas, good man! put up, put up; thine eyes Are likelier much to weep, than arms to strike; What would you do now, pray?

Duke. What? shameless harlot!

Rip up the cradle of thy cursed womb,
In which the mixture of that traitor's lust
Imposthumes for a birth of bastardy.

up

Yet come, and if thou think'st thou canst deserve
One mite of mercy, ere the boundless spleen
Of just-consuming wrath o'erswell my reason,
Tell me, bad woman, tell me what could move
Thy heart to crave variety of youth.

Bian. I'll] tell you, if you needs would be resolv'd;

I held Fernando much the properer man.

Duke. Shameless, intolerable whore!
Bian. What ails you?

Can you imagine, sir, the name of duke

Could make a crooked leg, a scambling foot,"
A tolerable face, a wearish hand,

A bloodless lip, or such an untrimm❜d beard
As your's, fit for a lady's pleasure? no:

I wonder you could think 'twere possible,

When I had once but look'd on your Fernando, I ever could love you again; fie, fie!

Now, by my life, I thought that long ago

You'd known it; and been glad you had a friend Your wife did think so well of.

Duke. O my stars!

Here's impudence above all history.

Why, thou detested reprobate in virtue,

Dar'st thou, without a blush, before mine eyes,

Speak such immodest language?

Bian. Dare? yes, 'faith,

You see I dare: I know what you would say now;
You would fain tell me how exceeding much
I am beholding to you, that vouchsafed
Me, from a simple gentlewoman's place,
The honour of your bed: 'tis true, you did;

• A scambling foot.] i. e. a sprawling, shuffling foot: wearish is used by our old writers for wizened, withered, decayed, &c. I have already remarked the similarity between this abandoned woman and Annabella: the same wantonness of abuse, the same audacious avowal of infamy, the same taunting provocation,—and all delivered in such a style of Pict-hatch eloquence, as the veriest waistcoater of Ford's days would have shrunk from—

verbis olido stans

Fornice mancipium quibus abstinet.

But why? 'twas but because you thought I had
A spark of beauty more than you had seen.
To answer this, my reason is the like;
The self-same appetite which led you on
To marry me, led me to love your friend:
O, he's a gallant man! if ever yet
Mine eyes beheld a miracle, composed
Of flesh and blood, Fernando has my voice.
I must confess, my lord, that, for a prince,
Handsome enough you are, [and] and no more;
But to compare yourself with him! trust me,
You are too much in fault. Shall I advise you?
Hark, in your ear; thank heaven he was so slow,
As not to wrong your sheets; for as I live,
The fault was his, not mine.

Fior. Take this, take all.

Duke. Excellent, excellent! the pangs of death Are music to this.

Forgive me, my good Genius, I had thought

I match'd a woman, but I find she is

A devil, worser than the worst in hell.

Nay, nay, since we are in, e'en come, say on;
I mark you to a syllable: you say,

The fault was his, not your's; why, virtuous mistress,

Can

you imagine you have so much art

Which may persuade me, you and your close markman

Did not a little traffic in my right!

Bian. Look, what I said, 'tis true; for, know it

now: