Page:The Tragedy of the Duchesse of Malfy (1623).pdf/67

 And go no farther in your cruelty, Send her a penetentiall garment, to put on, Next to her delicate skinne, and furnish her With beades, and prayer bookes.

Ferd. Damne her, that body of hers, While that my blood ran pure in't, was more worth Then, that which thou wouldst comfort, (call'd a soule) I will send her masques of common Curtizans, Have her meate serv'd up by baudes, and ruffians, And ('cause she'll needes be mad) I am resolv'd To remove forth the common Hospitall, All the mad-folke, and place them neere her lodging: There let them practise together, sing, and daunce, And act their gambols to the full o'th'moone: If she can sleepe the better for it, let her, Your worke is almost ended.

Bos. Must I see her againe?

Ferd. Yes.

Bos. Never.

Ferd. You must.

Bos. Never in mine owne shape, That's forfeited, by my intelligence, And this last cruell lie: when you send me next, The businesse shalbe comfort.

Ferd. Very likely, Thy pity is nothing of kin to thee: Antonio, Lurkes about Millaine, thou shalt shortly thither, To feede a fire, as great as my revenge, Which nev'r will slacke, till it have spent his fuell, "Intemperate agues, make Physitians cruell. Duch. What hideous noyse was that?

Cari. 'Tis the wild consort