+Boy.+ If you are a vile person, or have done any great wickedness, you were best look to yourself; for those he knows by instinct, and assaults them with as much violence as may be. +Moc.+ Then am I perished. Good sir, I had rather answer the law than be terrified with his looks. +Lor.+ Nay, you shall tarry, and take part with us, by your favour. +Æmi.+ How his eyes sparkle! +Bravo.+ Look, where the ghost appears, his wounds fresh-bleeding! He frowns, and threatens me; [O,] could the substance Do nothing, and will shadows revenge? +Lor.+ 'Tis strange, This was a fearful murder. +Bravo.+ Do not stare so, I can look big too; all I did unto thee 'Twas by another's instigation: There be some that are as deep in as myself; Go and fright them too. +Moc.+ Beshrew him for his counsel! [_Aside._ +Lor.+ What a just judgment's here! 'Tis an old saying, Murder will out; and 'fore it shall lie hid, The authors will accuse themselves. +Bravo.+ Now he vanishes; Dost thou steal from me, fearful spirit? See The print of his footsteps! +Moc.+ That ever my lust should be the parent to so foul a sin! [_Aside._ +Bravo.+ He told me that his horrid tragedy Was acted over every night in hell, Where sad Erinnys, with her venom'd face, Sits[363] a spectatrix, black with the curls of snakes, That lift their speckled heads above their shoulders, And, thrusting forth their stings, hiss at their entrance; And that serves for an applause. +Moc.+ How can you have the heart to look upon him? pray let me go, I feel a looseness in my belly. +Lor.+ Nay, you shall hear all out first. +Moc.+ I confess it, What would you have more of me? +Bravo.+ Then fierce Enyo holds a torch, Megæra Another; I'll down and play my part amongst them, For I can do't to th' life. +Lor.+ Rather to the death. +Bravo.+ I'll trace th' infernal theatre, and view Those squalid actors, and the tragic pomp Of hell and night. +Moc.+ How ghastly his words sound! pray, keep him off from me. +Lor.+ The guilt of conscience makes you fearful, Signor! +Bravo.+ When I come there, I'll chain up Cerberus, Nay, I'll muzzle him; I'll pull down Æacus And Minos by the beard; then with my foot I'll tumble Rhadamanthus from his chair, And for the Furies I'll not suffer them; I'll be myself a Fury. +Moc.+ To vex me, I warrant you. +Bravo.+ Next will I post unto the Destinies, Shiver their wheel and distaff 'gainst the wall, And spoil their housewif'ry; I'll take their spindle, Where hang the threads of human life like beams Drawn from the sun, and mix them altogether-- Kings with beggars. +Moc.+ Good sir, he comes towards me!