_Theoph._ Die all That are, or favour this accursed sect: I triumph in their ends, and will raise up A hill of their dead carcasses, to o'erlook The Pyrenean hills, but I'll root out These superstitious fools, and leave the world No name of Christian. [_Loud music: Exit_ ANGELO, _having first laid his hand upon the mouths of_ ANTON. _and_ DOR. _Sap._ Ha! heavenly music! _Mac._ 'Tis in the air. _Theoph._ Illusions of the devil, Wrought by some witch of her religion, That fain would make her death a miracle; It frights not me. Because he is your son, Let him have burial; but let her body Be cast forth with contempt in some highway, And be to vultures and to dogs a prey. [_Exeunt._ THEOPHILUS _discovered sitting in his Study: books about him_[53]. _Theoph._ Is 't holiday, O Cæsar, that thy servant, Thy provost, to see execution done On these base Christians in Cæsarea, Should now want work? Sleep these idolaters, That none are stirring?--As a curious painter, When he has made some honourable piece, Stands off, and with a searching eye examines Each colour, how 'tis sweeten'd; and then hugs Himself for his rare workmanship--so here, Will I my drolleries, and bloody landscapes, Long past wrapt up, unfold, to make me merry With shadows, now I want the substances. My muster-book of hell-hounds. Were the Christians, Whose names stand here, alive and arm'd, not Rome Could move upon her hinges. What I've done, Or shall hereafter, is not out of hate To poor tormented wretches[54]; no, I'm carried With violence of zeal, and streams of service I owe our Roman gods. This Christian maid was well, _Enter_ ANGELO _with a basket filled with fruit and flowers_. A pretty one; but let such horror follow The next I feed with torments, that when Rome Shall hear it, her foundation at the sound May feel an earthquake. How now? [_Music._ _Ang._ Are you amazed, sir? So great a Roman spirit--and doth it tremble! _Theoph._ How cam'st thou in? to whom thy business? _Ang._ To you: I had a mistress, late sent hence by you Upon a bloody errand; you entreated, That, when she came into that blessed garden Whither she knew she went, and where, now happy, She feeds upon all joy, she would send to you Some of that garden fruit and flowers; which here, To have her promise saved, are brought by me. _Theoph._ Cannot I see this garden? _Ang._ Yes, if the master Will give you entrance. [_He vanishes._