Ha! I can stand thee: nearer, nearer yet. What a mockery hath death made thee! thou look'st sad. In what place art thou? in yon starry gallery? Or in the cursed dungeon? No? not speak? Pray, sir, resolve me, what religion 's best For a man to die in? or is it in your knowledge To answer me how long I have to live? That 's the most necessary question. Not answer? are you still, like some great men That only walk like shadows up and down, And to no purpose; say---- [The Ghost throws earth upon him, and shows him the skull. What 's that? O fatal! he throws earth upon me. A dead man's skull beneath the roots of flowers! I pray speak, sir: our Italian churchmen Make us believe dead men hold conference With their familiars, and many times Will come to bed with them, and eat with them. [Exit Ghost. He 's gone; and see, the skull and earth are vanish'd. This is beyond melancholy. I do dare my fate To do its worst. Now to my sister's lodging, And sum up all those horrors: the disgrace The prince threw on me; next the piteous sight Of my dead brother; and my mother's dotage; And last this terrible vision: all these Shall with Vittoria's bounty turn to good, Or I will drown this weapon in her blood. [Exit. SCENE V Enter Francisco, Lodovico, and Hortensio Lodo. My lord, upon my soul you shall no further; You have most ridiculously engag'd yourself Too far already. For my part, I have paid All my debts: so, if I should chance to fall, My creditors fall not with me; and I vow, To quit all in this bold assembly, To the meanest follower. My lord, leave the city, Or I 'll forswear the murder. [Exit. Fran. Farewell, Lodovico: If thou dost perish in this glorious act, I 'll rear unto thy memory that fame, Shall in the ashes keep alive thy name. [Exit. Hort. There 's some black deed on foot. I 'll presently Down to the citadel, and raise some force. These strong court-factions, that do brook no checks, In the career oft break the riders' necks. [Exit. SCENE VI Enter Vittoria with a book in her hand, Zanche; Flamineo following them Flam. What, are you at your prayers? Give o'er. Vit. How, ruffian? Flam. I come to you 'bout worldly business. Sit down, sit down. Nay, stay, blowze, you may hear it: The doors are fast enough. Vit. Ha! are you drunk? Flam. Yes, yes, with wormwood water; you shall taste Some of it presently. Vit. What intends the fury? Flam. You are my lord's executrix; and I claim Reward for my long service. Vit. For your service! Flam. Come, therefore, here is pen and ink, set down What you will give me. Vit. There. [She writes. Flam. Ha! have you done already? 'Tis a most short conveyance.