Fer. What art thou?
Sess. To thy horror Duke of Sesse.
Fer. The Divel.
Sess. Reserv'd for thy damnation.
Mart. O I am lost for ever;
Mountains divide me from him; some kind hand
Prevent our fearful meeting: Or lead me
To the steep rock, whose rugged brows are bent
Upon the swelling main; there let me hide me:
And as our bodies then shall be divided,
May our souls never meet.
Fer. Whence grows this, Sweetest?
Mar. There are a thousand furies in his looks;
And in his deadly silence more loud horror,
Than when in hell the tortur'd and tormentors
Contend whose shreeks are greater. Wretched me!
It is my father.
Sess. Yes, and I will own her, Sir,
Till my revenge. It is my daughter, Ferrand;
My daughter thou hast whor'd.
Fer. I triumph in it:
To know she's thine, affords me more true pleasure,
Than the act gave me, when even at the height,
I crack'd her Virgin zone. Her shame dwell on thee,
And all thy family; may they never know
A female issue, but a whore; Ascanio.
Ronvere, look cheerfull; be thou a man too,
And learn of me to dye. That we might fall,
And in our ruines swallow up this Kingdom,
Nay the whole world, and make a second Chaos.
And if from thence a new beginning rise,
Be it recorded this did end with us;
And from our dust hath embryon.