I am deaf, And following my will, I do not stand Accomptable to reason: See her Ring (The first pledge of your love, and service to her) Deliver'd as a Warrant for your death: These Bags of gold you gave up to her trust, (The use of which you did deny your self) Bestow'd on me, and with a prodigal hand, Whom she pick'd forth to be the Architect Of her most bloudy building; and to fee These Instruments, to bring Materials To raise it up, she bad me spare no cost, And (as a surplusage) offer'd her self To be at my devotion. _Hen_. O accurs'd! _Jam_. But be incredulous still; think this my plot; Fashion excuses to your self, and swear That she is innocent, that she doats on ye; Believe this, as a fearfull Dream, and that You lie not at my mercy, which in this I will shew only: She her self shall give The dreadfull Sentence, to remove all scruple Who 'tis that sends you to the other world. _Enter Violante_. Appears my _Violante_? speak (my dearest) Do's not the object please you? _Viol_. More than if All treasure that's above the earth, with that, That lyes conceal'd in both the Indian Mines, Were laid down at my feet: O bold _Jamy_, Thou only canst deserve me. _Jam_. I am forward, And (as you easily may perceive,) I sleep not On your commands. _Enter Assistant, and Officers_. _Viol_. But yet they live: I look'd To find them dead. _Jam_. That was deferr'd, that you Might triumph in their misery, and have the power To say they are not. _Viol_. 'Twas well thought upon: This kiss, and all the pleasures of my Bed This night, shall thank thee. _Hen_. Monster! _Viol_. You Sir, that Would have me Mother Bastards, being unable To honour me with one Child of mine own, That underneath my roof, kept your cast-Strumpet, And out of my Revenues would maintain Her riotous issue: now you find what 'tis To tempt a woman: with as little feeling As I turn off a slave, that is unfit To doe me service; or a horse, or dog That have out-liv'd their use, I shake thee off, To make thy peace with heaven. _Hen_. I do deserve this, And never truly felt before, what sorrow Attends on wilfull dotage. _Viol_. For you, Mistris, That had the pleasure of his youth before me, And triumph'd in the fruit that you had by him, But that I think, to have the Bastard strangled Before thy face, and thou with speed to follow The way he leads thee, is sufficient torture, I would cut off thy nose, put out thine eyes, And set my foot on these bewitching lips, That had the start of mine: but as thou art, Goe to the grave unpitied. _Assist_.