Maq. Peace, ’tis i’ the duchess’ bed-chamber.
Good rest, most prosperously-graced ladies.
Emil. Good night, sentinel.
Bian. Night, dear Maquerelle.
Maq. May my posset’s operation send you my wit and honesty; and me, your youth and beauty: the pleasingest rest! 62
[Exeunt, at one door, Bianca and Emilia; at another Maquerelle.
A Song within.
Whilst the song is singing, enter Mendoza with his sword drawn, standing ready to murder Ferneze as he flies from the duchess’ chamber.—Tumult within.
[Within.] Strike, strike!
[Aur. within.] Save my Ferneze! O, save my Ferneze!
[Within.] Follow, pursue!