Duchess Duchess May the plague Wither the tongue that says so! Give him back. Moranzone Moranzone Madam, I tell you you will never see him, Neither to-night, nor any other night. Duchess Duchess What is your name? Moranzone Moranzone My name? Revenge! [Exit.] Duchess Duchess Revenge! I think I never harmed a little child. What should Revenge do coming to my door? It matters not, for Death is there already, Waiting with his dim torch to light my way. ’Tis true men hate thee, Death, and yet I think Thou wilt be kinder to me than my lover, And so dispatch the messengers at once, Harry the lazy steeds of lingering day, And let the night, thy sister, come instead, And drape the world in mourning; let the owl, Who is thy minister, scream from his tower And wake the toad with hooting, and the bat, That is the slave of dim Persephone, Wheel through the sombre air on wandering wing! Tear up the shrieking mandrakes from the earth And bid them make us music, and tell the