Pier. Go to, thou shall have right. Go to, Castilio,
Clap him into the palace dungeon; 271
Lap him in rags, and let him feed on slime
That smears the dungeon’ cheek. Away with him.
Bal. In very good truth, now, I’ll ne’er do so more; this one time and——
Pier. Away with him—observe it strictly—go!
Bal. Why then, O wight!
Alas, poor knight!
O, welladay,
Sir Jefferay! 280
Let poets roar,
And all deplore;
For now I bid you good-night.
Exit Balurdo with Castilio.
Re-enter Maria.
Mar. O piteous end of love! O too, too rude hand
Of unrespective death! Alas, sweet maid!
Pier. Forbear me, Heaven. What intend these plaints?
Mar. The beauty of admired creation,
The life of modest unmix’d purity,
Our sex’s glory, Mellida is——