malice, this woman, hath privately corrupted me with promise of [marriage,] under this politic reconciliation, to poison my lord, whilst she might laugh at his confusion on his marriage-day. I promised her fair; but I knew what my reward should have been, and would willingly have spared her life, but that I was acquainted with the danger of her disposition; and now have fitted her a just payment in her own coin: there she is, she hath yet'. and end thy days in peace, vile woman; as for life, there's no hope, think

not on't.

Omnes. Wonderful justice!

Rich. Heaven, thou art righteous.

Hip. O'tis true,

I feel my minute coming. Had that slave
Kept promise,-O my torment!-thou, this hour,
Hadst dy'd, Soranzo-heat above hell-fire !—
Yet, ere I pass away-cruel, cruel flames!-
Take here my curse amongst you; may thy bed
Of marriage be a rack unto thy heart,

Burn blood, and boil in vengeance-O my heart,
My flame's intolerable-may'st thou live
To father bastards; may her womb bring forth
Monsters-and die together in your sins,
Hated, scorn'd, and unpitied!—oh—oh— [Dies.
Flo. Was e'er so vile a creature!

3 She hath yet.] The old copy has a considerable double break here, probably from some defect in the M.S.

Rich. Here's the end

Of lust and pride.

Ann. It is a fearful sight.

Sor. Vasques, I know thee now a trusty servant,

And never will forget thee.--Come, my love, We'll home, and thank the heavens for this escape. Father and friends, we must break up this mirth It is too sad a feast.

Don. Bear hence the body.

Friar. [aside to GIO.] Here's an ominous change! Mark this, my Giovanni, and take heed!— I fear the event; that marriage seldom's good, Where the bride-banquet so begins in blood. [Exeunt.

SCENE II.*

A Room in RICHARDETTO's House.

Enter RICHARDETTO and PHILOTIS.

Rich. My wretched wife, more wretched in her shame

Than in her wrongs to me, hath paid too soon

+ Scene II.] As the play is now divided, this conversation takes place on the way home from the marriage-feast, or immediately after it; and, in either case, before Richardetto could have heard a word of what he informs his niece

Debates already 'twixt his wife and him

Thicken and run to head; she, as 'tis said,
Slightens his love, and he abandons hers:
Much talk I hear.]

Enough, and more than enough of improbability would perhaps

The forfeit of her modesty and life.

And I am sure, my niece, though vengeance hover,
Keeping aloof yet from Soranzo's fall,

Yet he will fall, and sink with his own weight.
I need not now (my heart persuades me so,)
To further his confusion; there is One
Above begins to work; for, as I hear,
Debates already 'twixt his wife and him
Thicken and run to head; she, as 'tis said,
Slightens his love, and he abandons her's:
Much talk I hear. Since things go thus, my
niece,

In tender love and pity of your youth,

My counsel is, that you should free your years
From hazard of these woes, by flying hence
To fair Cremona, there to vow your soul
In holiness, a holy votaress;

Leave me to see the end of these extremes.
All human worldly courses are uneven,
No life is blessed but the way to heaven.
Phi. Uncle, shall I resolve to be a nun?
Rich. Ay, gentle niece; and in your hourly

prayers

Remember me, your poor unhappy uncle.

Hie to Cremona now, as fortune leads,

Your home your cloister, your best friends your beads;

remain, were even the arrangement recommended in a former page to take place; but the most glaring part of it would certainly be removed or weakened by the change.

Your chaste and single life shall crown your birth, Who dies a virgin, lives a saint on earth.

Phi. Then farewell, world, and worldly thoughts, adieu!

Welcome, chaste vows, myself I yield to you.

[Exeunt.

SCENE III.

A Chamber in SORANZO's House.

Enter SORANZO unbraced, and dragging in ANNA

BELLA.

Sor. Come, strumpet, famous whore! were every drop

Of blood that runs in thy adulterous veins
A life, this sword (dost see't?) should in one blow
Confound them all. Harlot, rare, notable harlot,
That with thy brazen face maintain'st thy sin,
Was there no man in Parma to be bawd
To your loose cunning whoredom else but I?
Must your hot itch and pleurisy of lust,
The heyday of your luxury,' be fed
Up to a surfeit, and could none but I

Be pick'd out to be cloak to your close tricks,
Your belly-sports?--Now I must be the dad

5 The heyday of your luxury,] i. e. the height of your wantonness.-Reed. Luxury, about which the commentators on Shakspeare have drivelled out so much indecency, is simply, the French luxure, the old word for lust, and common to every writer of the poet's age. Luxury, in the present sense of the word, is their

luxe.

To all that gallimaufry that is stuff'd
In thy corrupted bastard-bearing womb!-
Why, must I?°

Ann. Beastly man! Why?-'tis thy fate.
I sued not to thee; for, but that I thought
Your over-loving lordship would have run
Mad on denial, had you lent me time,
I would have told you in what case I was:
But you would needs be doing.

Sor. Whore of whores!
Darest thou tell me this?

Ann. O yes; why not?

You were deceived in me; 'twas not for love
I chose you, but for honour; yet know this,
Would you be patient yet, and hide your shame,
I'd see whether I could love you.

Sor. Excellent quean!
Why, art thou not with child?

Ann. What needs all this,

When 'tis superfluous? I confess I am.

Sor. Tell me by whom.

Ann. Soft, 'twas not in my bargain.

Yet somewhat, sir, to stay your longing sto

mach

I am content t' acquaint you with; THE man, The more than man, that got this sprightly boy,

6

Why, must I?] The 4to is corrupt in this place, and reads, Shey, must I Dodsley has corrected it into Say; but I prefer the expression in the text, as it seems borne out by Annabella's an

swer.

7

Soft, sir.] I have omitted sir, which spoils the verse, and appears to have crept in from the line immediately below it.