Look you, the stars shine still[.] DUCHESS. O, but you must Remember, my curse hath a great way to go.— Plagues, that make lanes through largest families, Consume them!— BOSOLA. Fie, lady! DUCHESS. Let them, like tyrants, Never be remembered but for the ill they have done; Let all the zealous prayers of mortified Churchmen forget them!— BOSOLA. O, uncharitable! DUCHESS. Let heaven a little while cease crowning martyrs, To punish them!— Go, howl them this, and say, I long to bleed: It is some mercy when men kill with speed. Exit. [Re-enter FERDINAND] FERDINAND. Excellent, as I would wish; she 's plagu'd in art.[101] These presentations are but fram'd in wax By the curious master in that quality,[102] Vincentio Lauriola, and she takes them For true substantial bodies. BOSOLA. Why do you do this? FERDINAND. To bring her to despair. BOSOLA. Faith, end here, And go no farther in your cruelty: Send her a penitential garment to put on Next to her delicate skin, and furnish her With beads and prayer-books. FERDINAND. Damn her! that body of hers. While that my blood run pure in 't, was more worth Than that which thou wouldst comfort, call'd a soul. I will send her masques of common courtezans, Have her meat serv'd up by bawds and ruffians, And, 'cause she 'll needs be mad, I am resolv'd To move forth the common hospital All the mad-folk, and place them near her lodging; There let them practise together, sing and dance, And act their gambols to the full o' th' moon: If she can sleep the better for it, let her. Your work is almost ended. BOSOLA. Must I see her again? FERDINAND. Yes. BOSOLA. Never. FERDINAND. You must. BOSOLA. Never in mine own shape; That 's forfeited by my intelligence[103] And this last cruel lie: when you send me next, The business shall be comfort. FERDINAND. Very likely; Thy pity is nothing of kin to thee, Antonio Lurks about Milan: thou shalt shortly thither, To feed a fire as great as my revenge, Which nev'r will slack till it hath spent his fuel: Intemperate agues make physicians cruel. Exeunt. Scene II[104] [Enter] DUCHESS and CARIOLA DUCHESS. What hideous noise was that? CARIOLA. 'Tis the wild consort[105] Of madmen, lady, which your tyrant brother Hath plac'd about your lodging. This tyranny, I think, was never practis'd till this hour. DUCHESS. Indeed, I thank him. Nothing but noise and folly Can keep
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