Page:The Tragedy of the Duchesse of Malfy (1623).pdf/77

 The Wolfe shall finde her Grave, and scrape it up: Not to devoure the corpes, but to discover The horrid murther.

Bos. You; not I shall quake for't.

Ferd. Leave me:

Bos. I will first receive my Pention.

Ferd. You are a villaine:

Bos. When your Ingratitude Is Judge, I am so;

Ferd. O horror! That not the feare of him, which bindes the divels Can prescribe man obedience. Never looke upon me more.

Bos. Why fare thee well: Your brother, and your selfe, are worthy men; You have a paire of hearts, are hollow Graves, Rotten, and rotting others: and your vengeance, (Like two-chain'd bullets) still goes arme in arme, You may be Brothers: for treason, like the plague, Doth take much in a blood: I stand like one That long hath ta'ne a sweet, and golden dreame. I am angry with my selfe, now that I wake.

Ferd. Get thee into some unknowne part o'th' world That I may never see thee.

Bos. Let me know Wherefore I should be thus neglected? sir, I serv'd your tyranny: and rather strove, To satisfie your selfe, then all the world; And though I loath'd the evill, yet I lov'd You that did councell it: and rather sought To appeare a true servant, then an honest man.

Ferd. I'll goe hunt the Badger by Owle-light: 'Tis a deed of darkenesse.

Bos. He's much distracted: Off my painted honour, While with vaine hopes, our faculties we tyre, We seeme to sweate in yce, and freeze in fire; What would I doe, were this to doe againe? I would not change my peace of conscience For all the wealth of Europe: She stirres; here's life: Returne (faire soule) from darkenes, and lead mine Out of this sencible Hell: She's warme, she breathes: