GOV. Peace--my honourable brother--madam--all? So many dreadful deeds, and not one tongue Left to proclaim 'em. BEL. Yes, here, if a voice Some minutes' long may satisfy your ear, I have that time allowed it. GOV. 'Tis enough, Bestow it quickly, ere death snatch it from thee. BEL. That lord, your brother, made his friend Votarius To tempt his lady; she was won to lust, The act reveal'd here by her serving-woman; But that wise close adultress, stor'd with art To prey upon the weakness of that lord, Dissembled a, great rage upon her love, And indeed kill'd him, which so won her husband, He slew this right discoverer in his fury, Who (being my mistress) I was mov'd in haste To take some pains with him, and he's paid me for it. As for the cunning lady, I commend her; She perform'd that which never woman tried: She ran upon our weapons, and so died. Now you have all, I hope I shall sleep quiet. [_Dies._ ANS. O thunder! that awakes me e'en from death, And makes me curse my confidence with cold lips; I feel his words in flames about my soul, He's more than kill'd me. GOV. Brother! ANS. I repent the smile That I bestow'd on destiny? O whore! I fling thee thus from my believing breast With all the strength I have; my rage is great, Although my veins grow beggars; now I sue To die far from thee; may we never meet. Were my soul bid to joy's eternal banquet, And were assur'd to find thee there a guest, I'd sup with torments, and refuse that feast. O thou beguiler of man's easy trust! The serpent's wisdom is in women's lust. [_Dies._ GOV. Is death so long a-coming to mankind, It must be met half-way? O cruel speed! There's few men pay their debts before their day; If they be ready at their time, 'tis well-- And but a few that are so. What strange haste Was made among these people! My heart weeps for't. Go, bear those bodies to a place more comely. Brother, I came for thy advice; but I Find thee so ill a councillor to thyself, That I repent my pains, and depart sighing. The body of my love is still at court: I am not well to think on't; the poor spirit Was with me once again about it, troth; And I can put it off no more for shame, Though I desire to have it haunt me still, And never to give over, 'tis so pleasing. I must to court, I've plighted my faith to't; 'T has open'd me the way to the revenge. Tyrant, I'll run thee on a dangerous shelf, Though I be forc'd to fly this land myself. [_Exit._ SCENE II. _Enter_ TYRANT, _with Attendants_.