duke has a journey in hand, and will not be long absent: see, he is come already-let's pass away

easily.

Enter DUKE and BIANCA.

[Exeunt.

Duke. Troubled? yes, I have cause.-O Bianca!

Here was my fate engraven in thy brow,
This smooth, fair, polish'd table! in thy cheeks
Nature summ'd up thy dower: 'twas not wealth,
The miser's god, or royalty of blood,

Advanced thee to my bed; but love, and hope
Of virtue, that might equal those sweet looks:
If then thou should'st betray my trust, thy faith,
To the pollution of a base desire,
Thou wert a wretched woman.

Bian. Speaks your love,

Or fear, my lord?

Duke. Both, both; Bianca, know, The nightly languish of my dull unrest,

Hath stamp'd a strong opinion; for, methoughtMark what I say-as I in glorious pomp

Was sitting on my throne, while I had hemm'd
My best belov❜d Bianca in mine arms,

She reach'd my cap of state, and cast it down
Beneath her foot, and spurn'd it in the dust;
While I-oh, 'twas a dream too full of fate!—
Was stooping down to reach it, on my head,
Fernando, like a traitor to his vows,
Clapt, in disgrace, a coronet of horns.
But by the honour of anointed kings,

Were both of you hid in a rock of fire,
Guarded by ministers of flaming hell,

I have a sword-('tis here)-should make my way Through fire, through darkness, death, [and hell] and all,

To hew your lust-engender'd flesh to shreds,
Pound you to mortar, cut your throats, and mince
Your flesh to mites; I will,-start not-I will.
Bian. Mercy protect me, will you murder me?
Duke. Yes.-Oh! I cry
thee mercy. How the

rage

Of my own dream'd of wrongs,' made me forget
All sense of sufferance!-Blame me not, Bianca;
One such another dream would quite distract
Reason and self-humanity: yet tell me,
Was't not an ominous vision?

Bian. 'Twas, my lord,

Yet but a vision; for did such a guilt

Hang on mine honour, 'twere no blame in you,

Nay, strumpet, to the soul; and tear it off
From life, to damn it in immortal death.
Bian. Alas! what do you mean, sir?
Duke. I am mad.-

Forgive me, good Bianca; still methinks

Of my own dream'd of wrongs.] He alludes to the preceding speech. The 4to reads undream'd of wrongs: but this cannot be right, as the duke has just detailed the pretended dream in which he suffered them. A slighter change will give "e'en dream'd of," i. e. wrongs endured merely in a dream; and this perhaps will be thought the better reading.

I dream, and dream anew: now, prithee chide

me.

Sickness, and these divisions, so distract
My senses, that I take things possible
As if they were; which to remove, I mean
To speed me straight to Lucca, where, perhaps,
Absence and bathing in those healthful springs
May soon recover me; meantime, dear sweet,
Pity my troubled heart; griefs are extreme:
Yet, sweet, when I am gone, think on my dream.-
Who waits without, ho! is provision ready,
To pass to Lucca ?

Enter PETRUCHIO, NIBRASSA, FIORMONDA,
D'AVOLOS, ROSEILLI, and FERNANDO.

Pet. It attends your highness.

Duke. Friend, hold; take here from me this jewel, this :

[Gives him Bianca. Be she your care till my return from Lucca, Honest Fernando.-Wife, respect my friend. Let's go; but hear but hear you, wife, think on my dream. [Exeunt all but Ros. and PET.

Pet. Cousin, one word with you; doth not this

cloud

Acquaint you with strange novelties? The duke
Is lately much distemper'd; what he means
By journeying now to Lucca, is to me
A riddle; can you clear my doubt?

Ros. Oh, sir,

My fears exceed my knowledge, yet I note
No less than you infer; all is not well,

Would 'twere! whoever thrive, I shall be sure Never to rise to my unhoped desires :

But, cousin, I shall tell you more anon; Meantime, pray send my lord Fernando to me, I covet much to speak with him.

Fern. The duke is hors'd for Lucca: how now,

coz,

How prosper you in love?

Ros. As still I hoped.'

My lord, you are undone.

Fern. Undone! in what?

Ros. Lost; and I fear your life is bought and

sold;

I'll tell you how: late in my lady's chamber,
As I by chance lay slumbering on the mats,
In comes the lady marquess, and with her,
Julia and D'Avolos; where sitting down,
Not doubting me, " Madam," quoth D'Avolos,
"We have discover'd now the nest of shame."-
In short, my lord, (for you already know
As much as they reported,) there was told
The circumstance of all your private love,
And meetings with the duchess; when, at last,
False D'Avolos concluded with an oath,

2 As still I hoped.] i. e. apprehended, expected. See p. 430.

"We'll make," quoth he, "his heart-strings crack

"Were not the duke a baby, he would seek
Swift vengeance; for he knew it long ago."
Fern. Let him know it; yet I vow
She is as loyal in her plighted faith,
As is the sun in heaven: but put case

She were not, and the duke did know she were

not;

This sword lift up, and guided by this arm,

Shall guard her from an armed troop of fiends,
And all the earth beside.'

Ros. You are too safe

In your destruction.

Fern. Damn him!-he shall feel--

But peace, who comes?

Enter COLONA.

Col. My lord, the duchess craves a word with

you.

Fern. Where is she?

Col. In her chamber.

Ros. Here, have a plum for e'ee

3 Fernando is a poor, wretched creature. He boasts and blusters incessantly of his prowess, and the reader is led to expect that, like another Drawcansir, he can upon occasion "control whole armies;" yet he is taken like a rat in a trap, and with as little effort as Mauruccio. The duke too roars and bellows in a similar key, and just as little to the purpose: but his starts are the impotency of dotage, raised to frenzy by the machinations of others.