blood. I stand like one That long hath ta'en a sweet and golden dream:   I am angry with myself, now that I wake. FERDINAND. Get thee into some unknown part o' the world, That I may never see thee. BOSOLA. Let me know Wherefore I should be thus neglected. Sir, I serv'd your tyranny, and rather strove To satisfy yourself than all the world:   And though I loath'd the evil, yet I lov'd You that did counsel it; and rather sought To appear a true servant than an honest man. FERDINAND. I 'll go hunt the badger by owl-light:   'Tis a deed of darkness. Exit. BOSOLA. He 's much distracted. Off, my painted honour! While with vain hopes our faculties we tire, We seem to sweat in ice and freeze in fire. What would I do, were this to do again? I would not change my peace of conscience For all the wealth of Europe.—She stirs; here 's life:—   Return, fair soul, from darkness, and lead mine Out of this sensible hell:—she 's warm, she breathes:—   Upon thy pale lips I will melt my heart, To store them with fresh colour.—Who 's there? Some cordial drink!—Alas! I dare not call:   So pity would destroy pity.—Her eye opes, And heaven in it seems to ope, that late was shut, To take me up to mercy. DUCHESS. Antonio! BOSOLA. Yes, madam, he is living; The dead bodies you saw were but feign'd statues.   He 's reconcil'd to your brothers; the Pope hath wrought The atonement. DUCHESS. Mercy! Dies. BOSOLA. O, she 's gone again! there the cords of life broke. O sacred innocence, that sweetly sleeps On turtles' feathers, whilst a guilty conscience Is a black register wherein is writ All our good deeds and bad, a perspective That shows us hell! That we cannot be suffer'd To do good when we have a mind to it! This is manly sorrow; These tears, I am very certain, never grew In my mother's milk. My estate is sunk Below the degree of fear:  where were These penitent fountains while she was living? O, they were frozen up! Here is a sight As direful to my soul as is the sword Unto a wretch hath slain his father. Come, I 'll bear thee hence, And execute thy last will; that 's deliver Thy body to the reverend dispose Of some good women:  that the cruel tyrant Shall not deny me. Then I 'll post to Milan, Where somewhat I will speedily enact Worth my dejection. Exit [with the body]. 

        Act V 

        Scene I[120]         [Enter] ANTONIO and DELIO ANTONIO. What think you of my hope of reconcilement To the Arragonian brethren? DELIO. I misdoubt it; For though they have sent their letters 

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