to condemn'd persons The night before they suffer. DUCHESS. Even now thou said'st Thou wast a tomb-maker. BOSOLA.                  'Twas to bring you By degrees to mortification. Listen. Hark, now everything is still, The screech-owl and the whistler shrill Call upon our dame aloud, And bid her quickly don her shroud! Much you had of land and rent; Your length in clay 's now competent:     A long war disturb'd your mind; Here your perfect peace is sign'd. Of what is 't fools make such vain keeping? Sin their conception, their birth weeping, Their life a general mist of error, Their death a hideous storm of terror.     Strew your hair with powders sweet, Don clean linen, bathe your feet, And (the foul fiend more to check)     A crucifix let bless your neck.     'Tis now full tide 'tween night and day; End your groan, and come away. CARIOLA. Hence, villains, tyrants, murderers! Alas! What will you do with my lady?—Call for help! DUCHESS. To whom? To our next neighbours? They are mad-folks. BOSOLA. Remove that noise. DUCHESS. Farewell, Cariola. In my last will I have not much to give:   A many hungry guests have fed upon me; Thine will be a poor reversion. CARIOLA. I will die with her. DUCHESS. I pray thee, look thou giv'st my little boy Some syrup for his cold, and let the girl Say her prayers ere she sleep.        [Cariola is forced out by the Executioners.]   Now what you please:   What death? BOSOLA. Strangling; here are your executioners. DUCHESS. I forgive them:   The apoplexy, catarrh, or cough o' th' lungs, Would do as much as they do. BOSOLA. Doth not death fright you? DUCHESS. Who would be afraid on 't, Knowing to meet such excellent company In th' other world? BOSOLA. Yet, methinks, The manner of your death should much afflict you:   This cord should terrify you. DUCHESS. Not a whit:   What would it pleasure me to have my throat cut With diamonds? or to be smothered With cassia? or to be shot to death with pearls? I know death hath ten thousand several doors For men to take their exits; and 'tis found They go on such strange geometrical hinges, You may open them both ways:  any way, for heaven-sake, So I were out of your whispering. Tell my brothers That I perceive death, now I am well awake, Best gift is they can give or I can take. I would fain put off my last woman's-fault, I 'd not be tedious to you. FIRST EXECUTIONER. We are ready. DUCHESS. Dispose my breath how please you; but my body Bestow upon my women, will you? FIRST EXECUTIONER.    

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