Page:The Tragedy of the Duchesse of Malfy (1623).pdf/95

 About my brother, is, because at midnight I may with better privacy convey Julia's body to her owne Lodging. O, my Conscience! I would pray now: but the Divell takes away my heart For having any confidence in Praier. About this houre, I appointed Bosola To fetch the body: when he hath serv'd my turne, He dies.

Bos. Hah? 'twas the Cardinalls voyce: I heard him name, Bosola, and my death: listen, I heare ones footing.

Ferd. Strangling is a very quiein death.

Bos. Nay then I see, I must stand upon my Guard.

Ferd. What say' to that? whisper, softly: doe you agree to't? So it must be done i'th' darke: the Cardinall Would not for a thousand pounds, the Doctor should see it.

Bos. My death is plotted; here's the consequence of murther. "We value not desert, nor Christian breath, When we know blacke deedes, must be cur'de with death.

Serv. Here stay Sir, and be confident, I pray: I'll fetch you a dark Lanthorne.

Ant. Could I take him at his prayers, There were hope of pardon.

Bos. Fall right my sword: I'll not give thee so much leysure, as to pray.

Ant. Oh, I am gone: Thou hast ended a long suit, In a mynut.

Bos. What art thou?

Ant. A most wretched thing, That onely have the benefit in death, To appeare my selfe.

Serv. Where are you Sir?

Ant. Very neere my home: Bosola?

Serv. Oh misfortune.

Bos. Smother thy pitty, thou art dead else: Antonio? The man I would have sav'de 'bove mine owne life? We are meerely the Starres tennys-balls (strooke, and banded Which way please them) O good Antonio.