Page:The Tragedy of the Duchesse of Malfy (1623).pdf/42

 Faults where they apparant in you: Goe be safe In your owne innocency.

Duch. Oh bless'd comfort, This deadly aire is purg'd.

Ferd. Her guilt treads on Hot burning cultures: Now Bosola, How thrives our intelligence?

Bos. (Sir) uncertainly, 'Tis rumour'd she hath had three bastards, but By whom, we may go read i'th'Starres.

Ferd. Why some Hold opinion, all things are written there.

Bos. Yes, if we could find Spectacles to read them, I do suspect, there hath bin some Sorcery Us'd on the Duchesse.

Ferd. Sorcery, to what purpose?

Bos. To make her doate on some desertles fellow, She shames to acknowledge.

Ferd. Can your faith, give way To thinke there's powre in potions, or in Charmes, To make us love, whether we will or no?

Bos. Most certainely.

Ferd. Away, these are meere gullcries, horred things Invented by some cheating mounte-banckes To abuse us: Do you thinke that hearbes, or charmes Can force the will? Some trialls have bin made In this foolish practise; but the ingredients Were lenative poysons, such as are of force To make the patient mad; and straight the witch Sweares (by equivocation, they are in love. The witch-craft lies in her rancke bood: this night I will force confession from her: You told me You had got (within these two dayes) a false key Into her Bed-chamber.

Bos. I have.

Ferd. As I would wish.