thy body; for we 'll give it out,
Thou didst this violence upon thyself.

Flam. Oh, cunning devils! now I have tried your love,
And doubled all your reaches: I am not wounded.
[Flamineo riseth.
The pistols held no bullets; 'twas a plot
To prove your kindness to me; and I live
To punish your ingratitude. I knew,
One time or other, you would find a way
To give a strong potion. O men,
That lie upon your death-beds, and are haunted
With howling wives! ne'er trust them; they 'll re-marry
Ere the worm pierce your winding-sheet, ere the spider
Make a thin curtain for your epitaphs.
How cunning you were to discharge! do you practise at the Artillery
yard? Trust a woman? never, never; Brachiano be my precedent. We lay
our souls to pawn to the devil for a little pleasure, and a woman makes
the bill of sale. That ever man should marry! For one Hypermnestra
that saved her lord and husband, forty-nine of her sisters cut their
husbands' throats all in one night. There was a shoal of virtuous
horse leeches! Here are two other instruments.

Enter Lodovico, Gasparo, still disguised as Capuchins

Vit. Help, help!

Flam. What noise is that? ha! false keys i' th 'court!

Lodo. We have brought you a mask.

Flam. A matachin it seems by your drawn swords.
Churchmen turned revelers!

Gas. Isabella! Isabella!

Lodo. Do you know us now?

Flam. Lodovico! and Gasparo!

Lodo. Yes; and that Moor the duke gave pension to
Was the great Duke of Florence.

Vit. Oh, we are lost!

Flam. You shall not take justice forth from my hands,
Oh, let me kill her!--I 'll cut my safety
Through your coats of steel. Fate 's a spaniel,
We cannot beat it from us. What remains now?
Let all that do ill, take this precedent:
Man may his fate foresee, but not prevent;
And of all axioms this shall win the prize:
'Tis better to be fortunate than wise.

Gas. Bind him to the pillar.

Vit. Oh, your gentle pity!
I have seen a blackbird that would sooner fly
To a man's bosom, than to stay the gripe
Of the fierce sparrow-hawk.

Gas. Your hope deceives you.

Vit. If Florence be i' th' court, would he kill me!

Gas. Fool! Princes give rewards with their own hands,
But death or punishment by the hands of other.

Lodo. Sirrah, you once did strike me; I 'll st