FERD. Pray do, and bury the print of it in your

heart.

I will leave this ring with you, for a love-token;
And the hand, as sure as the ring; and do not doubt
But
you shall have the heart too: when you need a

friend,

Send it to him that ow'd it; you shall see
Whether he can aid you.

DUTCH. You are very cold:

I fear you are not well after your travel.

Ha! lights! O, horrible!

FERD. Let her have lights enough.

[Exit.

DUTCH. What witchcraft doth he practise, that

he hath left

A dead man's hand here?

[Here is discovered, behind a traverse,* the

artificial figures of Antonio and his children, appearing as if they were

dead.

you,

Bos. Look

'twas ta'en.

here's the piece, from which

He doth present you this sad spectacle,

That, now you know directly they are dead,
Hereafter you may wisely cease to grieve

For that which cannot be recovered.

DUTCH. There is not between heaven and earth,t

one wish

I stay for after this: it wastes me more

traverse] See note * p. 145.

earth] The 4to. of 1640, "the earth."

Than were't my picture, fashion'd out of wax,
Stuck with a magical needle, and then buried

In some foul dunghill; and yond's an excellent property

For a tyrant, which I would account mercy.

Bos. What's that?

DUTCH. If they would bind me to that lifeless trunk,

And let me freeze to death.

Bos. Come, you must live.

DUTCH. That's the greatest torture souls feel in

hell,

In hell, that they must live, and cannot die.
Portia, I'll new kindle thy coals again,

And revive the rare and almost dead example
Of a loving wife.

Bos. O fie! despair? remember

You are a christian,

DUTCH. The church enjoins fasting:

I'll starve myself to death.

Bos. Leave this vain sorrow.

Things being at the worst, begin to mend: the bee
When he hath shot his sting into your hand,
May then play with your eye-lid.

DUTCH. Good comfortable fellow,

Persuade a wretch that's broke upon the wheel
To have all his bones new set; entreat him live
To be executed again. Who must dispatch me?
I account this world a tedious theatre,

For I do play a part in't 'gainst my will.

Bos. Come, be of comfort; I will save your life. DUTCH. Indeed I have not leisure to tend

So small a business.

Bos. Now, by my life, I pity you.

DUTCH. Thou art a fool then,

To waste thy pity on a thing so wretched
As cannot pity itself.* I am full of daggers.
Puff, let me blow these vipers from me.
Enter SERVANT.

What are you ?

SERV. One that wishes you long life.

DUTCH. I would thou wert hang'd for the horrible

curse

Thou hast given me: I shall shortly grow one
Of the miracles of pity. I'll go pray ;

No, I'll go curse.

Bos. O, fie!

DUTCH. I could curse the stars.

Bos. O, fearful!

DUTCH. And those three smiling seasons of the

year

Into a Russian winter: nay, the world

To its first chaos.

Bos. Look you, the stars shine still.

DUTCH. O, but you must

Remember, my curse hath a great way to go: Plagues, that make lanes through largest families, Consume them!

* itself] The three earliest 4tos. "it."

Bos. Fie, lady.

DUTCH. Let them like tyrants

Never be remember'd, but for the ill they have done; Let all the zealous prayers of mortified

Churchmen forget them!

Bos. O, uncharitable!

DUTCH. Let heaven a little while cease crowning martyrs,

To punish them!

Go, howl them this, and say, I long to bleed:

It is some mercy when men kill with speed. [Exit. Enter FERDINAND.

FERD. Excellent, as I would wish; she's plagu'd

in art:

These presentations are but fram'd in wax,
By the curious master in that quality,
Vincentio Lauriola, and she takes them
For true substantial bodies.

Bos. Why do you do this?

FERD. To bring her to despair.
Bos. 'Faith, end here,

And go no farther in your cruelty;

Send her a penitential garment to put on

Next to her delicate skin, and furnish her
With beads, and prayer-books.

FERD. Damn her! that body of hers,
While that my blood ran pure in't, was more worth
Than that which thou wouldst comfort, call'd a soul.
I will send her masks of common courtesans,
Have her meat serv'd up by bawds and ruffians,

And, 'cause she'll needs be mad, I am resolv'd
To remove forth the common hospital

All the mad-folk, and place them near her lodging;
There let them practise together, sing and dance,
And act their gambols to the full o'th' moon :
If she can sleep the better for it, let her.

Your work is almost ended.

Bos. Must I see her again?

FERD. Yes.

Bos. Never.

FERD. You must.

Bos. Never in mine own shape ;

That's forfeited by my intelligence,

And this last cruel lie: when you send me next,
The business shall be comfort.

FERD. Very likely;

Thy pity is nothing of kin to thee. Antonio
Lurks about Milan: thou shalt shortly thither,
To feed a fire as great as my revenge,

Which never will slack till it have spent his fuel:
Intemperate agues make physicians cruel. [Exeunt.

SCENE II.

Enter DUTCHESS and CARIOLA.

DUTCH. What hideous noise was that?
CARI. "Tis the wild consort*

Of madmen, lady, which your tyrant brother
Hath plac'd about your lodging: this tyranny,

consort] See note on Northward Ho, Act II. Sc. 1.