Corn. Indeed, my younger boy presum'd too much
Upon his manhood, gave him bitter words,
Drew his sword first; and so, I know not how,
For I was out of my wits, he fell with 's head
Just in my bosom.
Page. That is not true, madam.
Corn. I pray thee, peace.
One arrow 's graze'd already; it were vain
T' lose this, for that will ne'er be found again.
Brach. Go, bear the body to Cornelia's lodging:
And we command that none acquaint our duchess
With this sad accident. For you, Flamineo,
Hark you, I will not grant your pardon.
Flam. No?
Brach. Only a lease of your life; and that shall last
But for one day: thou shalt be forc'd each evening
To renew it, or be hang'd.
Flam. At your pleasure.
[Lodovico sprinkles Brachiano's beaver with a poison.
Enter Francisco
Your will is law now, I 'll not meddle with it.
Brach. You once did brave me in your sister's lodging:
I 'll now keep you in awe for 't. Where 's our beaver?
Fran. [Aside.] He calls for his destruction. Noble youth,
I pity thy sad fate! Now to the barriers.
This shall his passage to the black lake further;
The last good deed he did, he pardon'd murder. [Exeunt.