Bian.

'Tis I:

Have you forgot my voice? or is your ear
But useful to your eye?

Sit

Fern. Madam, the duchess!

Bian.

She, 'tis she; sit up,

up and wonder, whiles my sorrows swell: The nights are short, and I have much to say. Fern. Is't possible 'tis you?

Bian.

Why do you think I come?

Fern.

'Tis possible:

Why! to crown joys,

And make me master of my best desires.

Bian. 'Tis true, you guess aright; sit up and listen.

With shame and passion now I must confess,

Since first mine eyes beheld you, in my heart

You have been only king; if there can be
A violence in love, then I have felt
That tyranny: be record to my soul

The justice which I for this folly fear!

Fernando, in short words, howe'er my tongue

Did often chide thy love, each word thou spak'st

Was music to my ear; was never poor,

Poor wretched woman lived that loved like me,

So truly, so unfeignedly.

Bian. To witness that I speak is truth, look here!

Thus singly' I adventure to thy bed,

And do confess my weakness: if thou tempt'st

My bosom to thy pleasures, I will yield.

Fern. Perpetual happiness!

Now hear me out.

Bian.
When first Caraffa, Pavy's duke, my lord,
Saw me, he loved me; and without respect
Of dower took me to his bed and bosom;
Advanced me to the titles I possess,

In allusion probably (as Gifford pointed out) not to the absence of attendants, but to the single garment in which she was clad.

Not moved by counsel or removed by greatness;
Which to requite, betwixt my soul and Heaven
I vowed a vow to live a constant wife:

I have done so; nor was there in the world
A man created could have broke that truth
For all the glories of the earth but thou,
But thou, Fernando! Do I love thee now?
Fern. Beyond imagination.

Bian.

True, I do,

Beyond imagination: if no pledge

Of love can instance what I speak is true

But loss of my best joys, here, here, Fernando,
Be satisfied and ruin me.

Fern.

What d'ye mean?

Bian. To give my body up to thy embraces,
A pleasure that I never wished to thrive in
Before this fatal minute. Mark me now;
If thou dost spoil me of this robe of shame,
By my best comforts, here I vow again,
To thee, to Heaven, to the world, to time,
Ere yet the morning shall new-christen day,
I'll kill myself!

Fern.

Bian.

How, madam, how!

I will:

Do what thou wilt, 'tis in thy choice: what say ye?
Fern. Pish! do you come to try me? tell me, first,
Will you but grant a kiss?

Bian.

Yes, take it; that,

[FERNANDO kisses her.

Or what thy heart can wish: I am all thine.

Fern. O, me!-Come, come; how many women, pray,

Were ever heard or read of, granted love,

And did as you protest you will?

Bian.

Jest not at my calamity. I kneel:

Fernando,

By these dishevelled hairs, these wretched tears,
By all that's good, if what I speak my heart

[Kneels.

Vows not eternally, then think, my lord,

Was never man sued to me I denied,

Think me a common and most cunning whore ;
And let my sins be written on my grave,

My name rest in reproof! [Rises.]—Do as you list.
Fern. I must believe ye,—yet I hope1 anon,
When you are parted from me, you will say
I was a good, cold, easy-spirited man,
Nay, laugh at my simplicity: say, will ye?

Bian. No, by the faith I owe my bridal vows!
But ever hold thee much, much dearer far
Than all my joys on earth, by this chaste kiss.

[Kisses him. Fern. You have prevailed; and Heaven forbid that I Should by a wanton appetite profane

This sacred temple! 'tis enough for me

You'll please to call me servant.

Bian.

Nay, be thine :

Command my power, my bosom; and I'll write

This love within the tables of my heart.

Fern. Enough: I'll master passion, and triumph. In being conquered; adding to it this,

In you my love as it begun shall end.

Bian. The latter I new-vow. But day comes on; What now we leave unfinished of content,

Each hour shall perfect up: sweet, let us part.

Fern. This kiss,-best life, good rest!

Bian.

[Kisses her.

All mine to thee!

Remember this, and think I speak thy words;
"When I am dead, rip up my heart, and read
With constant eyes, what now my tongue defines,
Fernando's name carved out in bloody lines."
Once more, good rest, sweet!

Fern.

1

Your most faithful servant! [Exit BIANCA-Scene closes.

Expect.

ACT THE THIRD.

SCENE I.-An Apartment in the Palace. Enter NIBRASSA chafing, followed by JULIA weeping.

IB. Get from me, strumpet, infamous whore, leprosy of my blood! make thy moan to ballad-singers and rhymers; they'll jig-out thy wretchedness and abominations to new tunes: as for me, I renounce thee; thou'rt no daughter of mine; I disclaim the legitimation of thy birth, and curse the hour of thy nativity.

Jul. Pray, sir, vouchsafe me hearing.

Nib. With child! shame to my grave! O, whore, wretched beyond utterance or reformation, what wouldst say?

Jul. Sir, by the honour of my mother's hearse, He has protested marriage, pledged his faith;

If vows have any force, I am his wife.

Nib. His faith! Why, thou fool, thou wickedly-credulous fool, canst thou imagine luxury is observant of religion? no, no; it is with a frequent lecher as usual to forswear as to swear; their piety is in making idolatry a worship; their hearts and their tongues are as different as thou, thou whore! and a virgin.

Jul. You are too violent; his truth will prove

His constancy, and so excuse my fault.

Nib. Shameless woman! this belief will damn thee. How will thy lady marquess justly reprove me for prefer

1 Lust.

ring to her service a monster of soewd and impudent a life! Look to't; if thy smooth evil leave thee to thy infamy, I will never pity thy mctal pangs, never lodge thee under my roof, never own.hee for my child; mercy be my witness!

Enter PERUCHIO, leading COLONA.
Pet. Hide notay folly by unwise excuse,
Thou art undae, Colona; no entreaties,
No warning o persuasion, could put off
The habit thy dotage on that man

Of muckdeceit, Ferentes. Would thine eyes
Had sen me in my grave, ere I had known
The sin of this thine honour !

C.

Good my lord,

Reaim your incredulity: my fault

Preeds from lawful composition

Qwedlock; he hath sealed his oath to mine be my husband.

Nib. Husband! hey-day! is't even so? nay, then, we Eve partners in affliction: if my jolly gallant's long apper have struck on both sides, all is well.-Petruchio, ou art not wise enough to be a paritor:1 come hither, an, come hither; speak softly; is thy daughter with Child?

Pet. With child, Nibrassa!

Nib. Foh! do not trick me off; I overheard your gabbling. Hark in thine ear, so is mine too.

Pet. Alas, my lord, by whom?

Nib. Innocent! by whom? what an idle question is that! One cock hath trod both our hens: Ferentes, Ferentes; who else? How dost take it? methinks thou art wondrous patient: why, I am mad, stark mad.

Pet. How like you this, Colona ?, 'tis too true: Did not this man protest to be your husband?

1 An inferior officer who summoned delinquents (including prostitutes) to a spiritual court.