Ori. Dissembling death, why didst thou let me live
To see this change, my greatest cause to grieve? [Exeunt.
Scæna Secunda.
Enter Astorius, Castriot, Valetta, Gomera, Synnet, Knights, two Bishops, Mountferrat guarded by Corporal and Soldiers, Abdella, a Gentleman with a Cloak, sword, and Spurrs: Gomera.
Val. A tender Husband hast thou shew'd thy self
My dearest brother, and thy memory
After my life in brazen Characters;
Shall monumentally be register'd
To ages consequent, till times running hand,
Beats back the world, to undistinguished Chaos,
And on the top of that thy name shall stand
Fresh, and without decay.
Gom. Oh honor'd Sir!
If hope of this, or any bliss to come,
Could lift my load of grief off from my soul,
Or expiate the trespass 'gainst my wife,
That in one hours suspition I begat,
I might be won to be a man again,
And fare like other Husbands, sleep and eat,
Laugh, and forget my pleasing penitence;
But till old nature can make such a wife
Again, I vow ne'r to resume the order
And habits that to men are necessary,
All breath I'll spend in sighs, all sound in groans,
And know no company but my wasting moans.
Ast. This will be wilful murder on your self,
Nor like a Christian do you bear the chance
Which th' inscrutable Will of Heaven admits.
Gom. What would you have my weakness do, that
Suffer'd it self thus to be practis'd on,
By a damn'd hell-hound, and his agent dam,
The impious Midwife, to abortive births,
And cruel instrument to his decrees?
By forgery they first assail'd her life,
Heaven playing with us yet, in that, he wrought
My dearest friend, the servant to her virtue
To combat me, against his Mistriss truth.
That yet effectless, this enchanting Witch,
Bred baneful jealousie against my Lady,
My most immaculate Lady, which seiz'd on her
Almost to death: Oh yet! not yet content,
She in my hand put (to restore her life
As I imagin'd) what did execute
Their devilish malice, farther, great with child,
Was this poor innocent, that too was lost,
They doubled death upon her, not staying there,
They have done violence unto her Tomb,
Not granting rest unto her in the grave:
I wish Miranda had enjoy'd my prize;
For sure I'm punish'd for usurping her,
Oh what a Tyger is resisted Lust!
How it doth forrage all!
Mount. Part of this tale
I grant you true; but 'twas not poison given her?
Ab. I would it had, we had been far enough,
If we had been so wise, and had not now
Stood curtesing for your mercies here.
Mount. Beside,
What is become o' th' body? we know not.