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Duke. Not dead? yes, by my honour's truth:

why, fool, Dost think I'll hug my injuries? no, traitor! I'll mix your souls together in your deaths, As you did both

your her life.-Have at thee! Fern. Stay; I yield my weapon up.

[He drops his sword.
Here, here's my bosom; as thou art a duke,
Dost honour goodness, if the chaste Bianca
Be murther'd, murther me.

Duke. Faint-hearted coward,
Art thou so poor in spirit! rise and fight;
Or by the glories of my house and name,
I'll kill thee basely.

Fern. Do but hear me first:
Unfortunate Caraffa, thou hast butcher'd
An innocent, a wife as free from lust
As any terms of art can deify.

Duke. Pish, this is stale dissimulation;
I'll hear no more.

Fern. If ever I unshrined
The altar of her purity, or tasted
More of her love, than what, without controul
Or blame, a brother from a sister might,
Rack me to atomies. I must confess
I have too much abused thee; did exceed
In lawless courtship; 'tis too true, I did:
But by the honour which I owe to goodness,
For any actual folly, I am free.

Duke. 'Tis false: as much, in death, for thee she

spake. Fern. By yonder starry roof, 'tis true. O duke! Couldst thou rear up another world like this, Another like to that, and more, or more, Herein thou art most wretched; all the wealth Of all those worlds could not redeem the loss Of such a spotless wife. Glorious Bianca, Reign in the triumph of thy martyrdom, Earth was unworthy of thee!

Nib. Pet. Now, on our lives, we both believe him. Duke. Fernando, dar'st thou swear upon my

sword, To justify thy words?

Fern. I dare; look here. [Kisses the sword.
'Tis not the fear of death doth prompt my tongue,
For I would wish to die; and thou shalt know,
Poor miserable duke, since she is dead,
I'll hold all life a hell.

Duke. Bianca chaste!
Fern. As virtue's self is good.

Duke. Chaste, chaste, and kill’d by me! to her I offer up this remnant of my

[Offers to stab himself, and is stayed by FERN. Fern. Hold! Be gentler to thyself.

Pet. Alas, my lord,
Is this a wise man's carriage?

Duke. Whither now

Shall I run from the day, where never man,
Nor eye, nor eye of heaven may see a dog
So hateful as I am? Bianca chaste!
Had not the fury of some hellish rage
Blinded all reason's sight, I must have seen
Her clearness in her confidence to die.
Your leave-
[Kneels, holds up his hands, and, after speaking

to himself a little, rises. 'Tis done: come, friend, now for her love, Her love that prais’d thee in the pangs of death, I'll hold thee dear; lords, do not care for me, I am too wise to die yet.--Oh, Bianca!

Enter D'Avolos. D'Av. The lord abbot of Monaco, sir, is, in his return from Rome, lodged last night late in the city very privately; and hearing the report of your journey, only intends to visit your duchess to-morrow.

Duke. Slave, torture me no more! Note him,

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my lords,

If you would choose a devil in the shape
Of man, an arch-arch-devil, there stands one.
We'll meet our uncle.--Order straight, Petruchio,
Our duchess may be coffin'd; 'tis our will
She forthwith be interr'd with all the speed
And privacy you may, i' th' college church,
Amongst Caraffa's ancient monuments.
Some three days hence we'll keep her funeral.-
Damn'd villain! bloody villain!--Oh, Bianca!

No counsel from our cruel wills can win us,
But ills once done, we bear our guilt within us.

[Exeunt all but D'Avolos. D'Av. Good b’ye! Arch-arch-devil! why, I am paid. Here's bounty for good service! beshrew my heart, it is a right princely reward. Now must I say my prayers, that I have lived to so ripe an age to have my head stricken off. I cannot tell;- it may be my lady Fiormonda will stand on my behalf to the duke: that's but a single hope;' a disgraced courtier oftener finds enemies to sink him when he's falling, than friends to relieve him. I must resolve to stand to the hazard of all brunts now.

Come what may,

I will not die like a cow, and the world shall know it. [Exit.


Another Apartment in the same.

Enter FIORMONDA, and RoseillI discovering

himself: Ros. Wonder not, madam; here behold the man Whom


disdain hath metamorphosed. Thus long have I been clouded in this shape, Led on by love; and in that love, despair:

? I cannot tell.] i.e. I know not what to think. For more examples of this mode of expression, wbich has been grossly misunderstood, see Jonson, vol. i. p. 125.

3 That's but a single hope.) Weak, feeble. See vol. i. p. 393.

If not the sight of our distracted court,
Nor pity of my bondage, can reclaim
The greatness of your scorn, yet let me know
My latest doom from you.

Fior. Strange miracle!
Roseilli, I must honour thee; thy truth,
Like a transparent mirror, represents
My reason with my errors. Noble lord,
That better dost deserve a better fate,
Forgive me; if my heart can entertain
Another thought of love, it shall be thine.

Ros. Blessed, for ever blessed be the words! In death you have revived me.

Enter D'Avolos. D'Av. Whom have we here? Roseilli, the supposed fool? 'tis he; nay, then help me a brazen face!—My honourable lord. Ros. Bear off, blood-thirsty man! come not

near me, D'Av. Madam, I trust the service Fior. Fellow, learn to new live: the way to

thrift, For thee, in grace, is a repentant shrift.

Ros. Ill has thy life been, worse will be thy end; Men flesh'd in blood know seldom to amend.

Enter SERVANT. Ser. His highness commends his love to you, and expects your presence; he is ready to pass to the church, only staying for my lord abbot to as

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