And it must murther; tis thine owne deare twinne.
No man can adde height to a womans sinne.100
Vice never doth her just hate so provoke,
As when she rageth under vertues cloake.
Write! for it must be—by this ruthlesse steele,
By this impartiall torture, and the death
Thy tyrannies have invented in my entrails,105
To quicken life in dying, and hold up
The spirits in fainting, teaching to preserve
Torments in ashes that will ever last.