All. Duke Altofront! Duke Altofront!
[Cornets, a flourish.—They seize upon Mendoza.
Men. Are we surpris’d? what strange delusions mock 160
Our senses? do I dream? or have I dreamt
This two days’ space? where am I?
Mal. Where an arch-villain is.
Men. O, lend me breath till[576] I am fit to die!
For peace with heaven, for your own souls’ sake,
Vouchsafe me life!
Pietro. Ignoble villain! whom neither heaven nor hell,
Goodness of God or man, could once make good!
Mal. Base, treacherous wretch! what grace canst thou expect,
That hast grown impudent in gracelessness? 170
Men. O, life!
Mal. Slave, take thy life.
Wert thou defencèd, th[o]rough blood and wounds,
The sternest horror of a civil fight,
Would I achieve thee; but prostrate at my feet,
I scorn to hurt thee: ’tis the heart of slaves
That deigns to triumph over peasants’ graves;
For such thou art, since birth doth ne’er enroll
A man ’mong monarchs, but a glorious soul.
O,[577] I have seen strange accidents of state! 180
The flatterer, like the ivy, clip the oak,
And waste it to the heart; lust so confirm’d,
That the black act of sin itself not sham’d
To be term’d courtship.