_Sess._ Cruel beginnings meet with cruel ends; And the best sacrifice to Heaven for peace, Is tyrants blood: and those that stuck fast to him, Flesh'd instruments in his commands to mischief, With him dispatch'd. _Boats._ They are cut off. _Sess._ 'Tis well. _All._ Thanks to the Duke of _Sesse_. _Sess._ Pay that to Heaven, And for a general joy, give general thanks: For blessings nere descend from Heaven, but when A grateful Sacrifice ascends from men. To your devotion, leave me, there's a Scene, Which I would act alone; yet you may stay, For wanting just spectators, 'twill be nothing. The rest forbear me. _Cit._ Liberty, liberty, liberty. _Mar._ I would I were as far beneath the Centre, As now I stand above it; how I tremble! Thrice happy they that dyed; I dying live To stand the whirlwind of a fathers fury. Now it moves toward me. _Sess._ Thou, I want a name, By which to stile thee: All articulate sounds That do express the mischief of vile woman, That are, or have been, or shall be, are weak To speak thee to the height. Witch, Parricide, For thou, in taking leave of modesty, Hast kild thy father, and his honor lost; He's but a walking shadow to torment thee. To leave, and rob thy father; then set free His foes, whose slavery he did prefer Above all treasure, was a strong defeazance To cut off, even the surest bonds of mercy. After all this, having given up thy self, Like to a sensual beast, a slave to lust, To play the whore, and then (high Heaven it racks me) To find out none to quench thy appetite, But the most cruel King, whom next to Hell, Thy father hated; and whose black imbraces Thou shouldst have fled from, as the whips of furies; What canst thou look for? _Enter Pandulph, and bodies born on the Herse._ _Mart._ Death; and 'tis not in you To hurt me farther: my old resolution, Take now the place of fear; in this I liv'd, In this I'll dye, your daughter. _Pand._ Look but here; You had I know, a guilty hand in this; Repent it Lady. _Mart. Juliana_ dead? And _Virolet_? _Pand._ By her unwilling hand. _Mart._ Fates you are equal. What can now fall on me, That I will shrink at? now unmov'd I dare Look on your anger, and not bend a knee To ask your pardon; let your rage run higher Than billows rais'd up by a violent Tempest, And be, as that is, deaf to all intreaties: They are dead, and I prepar'd; for in their fall All my desires are summ'd up. _Sess._ Impudent too? Die in it wretch. _Boats._ Stay Sir. [_Boats. kills her._ _Sess._ How dar'st thou villain, Snatch from my sword the honor of my justice?