Vit. No matter;
I 'll live so now, I 'll make that world recant,
And change her speeches. You did name your duchess.
Brach. Whose death God pardon!
Vit. Whose death God revenge
On thee, most godless duke!
Flam. Now for two whirlwinds.
Vit. What have I gain'd by thee, but infamy?
Thou hast stain'd the spotless honour of my house,
And frighted thence noble society:
Like those, which sick o' th' palsy, and retain
Ill-scenting foxes 'bout them, are still shunn'd
By those of choicer nostrils. What do you call this house?
Is this your palace? did not the judge style it
A house of penitent whores? who sent me to it?
To this incontinent college? is 't not you?
Is 't not your high preferment? go, go, brag
How many ladies you have undone, like me.
Fare you well, sir; let me hear no more of you!
I had a limb corrupted to an ulcer,
But I have cut it off; and now I 'll go
Weeping to heaven on crutches. For your gifts,
I will return them all, and I do wish
That I could make you full executor
To all my sins. O that I could toss myself
Into a grave as quickly! for all thou art worth
I 'll not shed one tear more—I 'll burst first.
[She throws herself upon a bed.
Brach. I have drunk Lethe: Vittoria!
My dearest happiness! Vittoria!
What do you ail, my love? why do you weep?
Vit. Yes, I now weep poniards, do you see?
Brach. Are not those matchless eyes mine?
Vit. I had rather
They were not matches.
Brach. Is not this lip mine?