DUCHESS. Good comfortable fellow, Persuade a wretch that 's broke upon the wheel To have all his bones new set; entreat him live To be executed again. Who must despatch me? I account this world a tedious theatre, For I do play a part in 't 'gainst my will. BOSOLA. Come, be of comfort; I will save your life. DUCHESS. Indeed, I have not leisure to tend so small a business. BOSOLA. Now, by my life, I pity you. DUCHESS. Thou art a fool, then, To waste thy pity on a thing so wretched As cannot pity itself. I am full of daggers. Puff, let me blow these vipers from me. [Enter Servant] What are you? SERVANT. One that wishes you long life. DUCHESS. I would thou wert hang'd for the horrible curse Thou hast given me: I shall shortly grow one Of the miracles of pity. I 'll go pray;-- [Exit Servant.] No, I 'll go curse. BOSOLA. O, fie! DUCHESS. I could curse the stars. BOSOLA. O, fearful! DUCHESS. And those three smiling seasons of the year Into a Russian winter; nay, the world To its first chaos. BOSOLA. Look you, the stars shine still[.] DUCHESS. O, but you must Remember, my curse hath a great way to go.-- Plagues, that make lanes through largest families, Consume them!-- BOSOLA. Fie, lady! DUCHESS. Let them, like tyrants, Never be remembered but for the ill they have done; Let all the zealous prayers of mortified Churchmen forget them!-- BOSOLA. O, uncharitable! DUCHESS. Let heaven a little while cease crowning martyrs, To punish them!-- Go, howl them this, and say, I long to bleed: It is some mercy when men kill with speed. Exit. [Re-enter FERDINAND] FERDINAND. Excellent, as I would wish; she 's plagu'd in art.[101] These presentations are but fram'd in wax By the curious master in that quality,[102] Vincentio Lauriola, and she takes them For true substantial bodies. BOSOLA. Why do you do this? FERDINAND. To bring her to despair. BOSOLA. Faith, end here, And go no farther in your cruelty: Send her a penitential garment to put on Next to her delicate skin, and furnish her With beads and prayer-books.