Duke. Not dead? yes, by my honour's truth: why, fool, Dost think I'll hug my injuries? no, traitor! 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; Fern. Do but hear me first: Unfortunate Caraffa, thou hast butcher'd 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 I have too much abused thee; did exceed 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 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, [Kneels, holds up his hands, and, after speaking 'Tis done: come, friend, now for her love, 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, my lords, If you would choose a devil in the shape Of man, an arch-arch-devil, there stands one.- 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. SCENE III. Another Apartment in the same. Enter FIORMONDA, and ROSEILLI discovering Ros. Wonder not, madam; here behold the man Whom your disdain hath metamorphosed. 2 I cannot tell.] i. e. I know not what to think. For more examples of this mode of expression, which 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, The greatness of your scorn, yet let me know Fior. Strange miracle! Roseilli, I must honour thee; thy truth, 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 |