the Dutchesse of Malfy.
Be a good Mother to your litle ones,
And save them from the Tiger: fare you well.
Duch.
Let me looke upon you once more: for that speech
Came from a dying father: your kisse is colder
Then that I have seene an holy Anchorite
Give to a dead mans skull.
Ant.
My heart is turnde to a heavy lumpe of lead,
With which I sound my danger: fare you well. Exit.
Duch.
My Laurell is all withered.
Car.
Looke (Madam) what a troope of armed men
Make toward us.
Enter Bosola with a Guard.
Duch.
O, they are very welcome:
When Fortunes wheele, is over-charg'd with Princes,
The waight makes it move swift. I wonld have my ruine
Be sudden: I am your adventure, am I not.
Bos.
You are, you must see your husband no more,
Duch.
What Divell art thou, that counterfeits heavens thunder?
Bos.
Is that terrible? I would have you tell me
Whether is that note worse, that frights the silly birds
Out of the corne or that which doth allure them
To the nets? you have hearkned to the last too much.
Duch.
O misery: like to a rusty ore-char'd Cannon,
Shall I never flye in peeces? come: to what Prison?
Bos.
To none:
Duch.
Whether then?
Bos.
To your Pallace.
Duch.
I have heard that Charons boate, serves to convay
All ore the dismall Lake, but brings none backe againe.
Bos.
Your brothers meane you, safety, and pitie.
Dutch.
Pitie? with such a pitie men preserve alive
Pheasants, and Quailes, when they are not fat enough
To be eaten.
Bos.
These are your children?
Dutch
Yes:
Bos.
Can they pratle?
Dutch.
No:
But I intend, since they were borne accurs'd;
Cursses
