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Bian. I'll tell you, if you needs would be re
solv'd; I held Fernando much the better man.
Duke. Shameless, intolerable harlot!
Bian. What ails
Duke. O my stars !
Bian. Dare? yes, 'faith,
had seen. To answer this, my reason is the like;
• A scrambling foot.] i. e. a sprawling, shuffing foot: wearish is used by our old writers for wizened, withered,
decayed, &c. -GIFFORD.
The self-same appetite which led you on
Duke. Excellent, excellent! the pangs of death
my affection, but as oft he urged The sacred vows of faith 'twixt friend and
Duke. Such another
What witchcraft used the wretch to charm the
heart* Of the once spotless temple of thy mind? For without witchcraft it could ne'er be done.
Bian. Phew!-an you be in these tunes, sir, I'll
You know the best, and worst, and all.
Duke. Nay, then
eyes into thy hovering soul,
my revenge on thee, 'twere all in vain: Prepare to die!
* To charm the heart.] This reading has been made out o the old copy, which has the art.” °I can think of no word nearer the traces of the original; and yet to “ charm the heart of the temple of the mind,” is an expression which will be as little admired as comprehended. — "GIFFORD. Perhaps we should read ark.
+ i. e. ingrained, as we say: follies that run in the blood.
Bian. (opens her bosom.) I do; and to the point Of thy sharp sword, with open breast, I'll run Half way thus naked; do not shrink, Caraffa, This daunts not me: but in the latter act Of thy revenge, 'tis all the suit I askAt my last
gasp, ---to spare thy noble friend; For life to me, without him, were a death.
Duke. Not this, I'll none of this ; 'tis not so fit.Why should I kill her? she may live and change, Or
[Throws down his sword. Fior. (above.) Dost thou halt? faint coward,
dost thou wish To blemish all thy glorious ancestors ? Is this thy courage ?
Duke. Ha! say you so too? Give me thy hand, Bianca.
[Draws his dagger, and stabs her. Here's blood for Just, and sacrifice for wrong. Bian. 'Tis bravely done ; thou hast struck home
at once : Live to repent too late. Commend my love To thy true friend, my love to him that* owes it; My tragedy tot thee ; my heart to-to-Fernando, Ooh!
[Dies. Duke. Sister, she's dead.
Fior. Then, while thy rage is warm, Pursue the causer of her trespasses.
* i. e. owns, possesses it.
+ My tragedy to thee.] Bianca alludes either to her husband, or to Fiormonda, who from the gallery had urged on her murder with such violence.--GIFFORD.
[Takes up his sword and exit. Fior. Here's royal vengeance ! this becornes the
state Of his disgrace, and my unbounded hate. [Exit.
SCENE II.-An Apartment in the Palace.
FERNANDO : to him the Duke, a sword in one hand,
and a bloody dagger in the other.
Fern. Duke, I fear thee not :
Fern. Not dead ?