Heaven still! And there's Nemesis, and Furies, And things called whippes, and they sometimes doe meet With murderers! They doe not alwayes scape,—     That is some comfort! I, I, I; and then Time steales on, and steales and steales, till violence Leapes foorth like thunder wrapt in a ball of fire, And so doth bring confusion to them all. 

       [End of insertion.]     

     Good leaue haue you; nay, I pray you goe, For Ile leaue you, if you can leaue me so. II PORT. Pray you, which is the next way to my l[ord]     the dukes? HIERO. The next way from me. I PORT. To the house, we meane. HIERO. O hard by; tis yon house that you see. II PORT. You could not tell vs if his sonne were there? HIERO. Who? my lord Lorenzo? I PORT. I, sir. He goeth in at one doore and comes out at another. HIERO. Oh, forbeare, For other talke for vs far fitter were! But, if you be importunate to know The way to him and where to finde him out, Then list to me, and Ile resolue your doubt:     There is a path vpon your left hand side That leadeth from a guiltie conscience Vnto a forrest of distrust and feare,—     A darksome place and dangerous to passe,—     There shall you meet with melancholy thoughts Whose balefull humours if you but [behold], It will conduct you to dispaire and death:     Whose rockie cliffes when you haue once behelde, Within a hugie dale of lasting night, That, kindled with worlds of iniquities, Doth cast vp filthy and detested fumes,—     Not far from thence where murderers haue built A habitation for their cursed soules, There, in a brazen caldron fixed by Iove In his fell wrath vpon a sulpher flame, Your-selues shall finde Lorenzo bathing him In boyling lead and blood of innocents. I PORT. Ha, ha, ha! HIERO. Ha, ha, ha! why, ha, ha, ha!  Farewell, good ha, ha, ha! Exit. II PORT. Doubtles this man is passing lunaticke, Or imperfection of his age doth make him dote. Come, lets away to seek my lord the duke.                  [Exeunt.] 

  

       [ACT III. SCENE 12.]     

                 [The Spanish court.]                  Enter HIERONIMO with a ponyard in one hand, and a rope in the other. HIERO. Now, sir, perhaps I come to see the king, The king sees me, and faine would heare my sute:     Why, is this not a strange and 

 Prev. P 39/58 next