_Ant._ May I be cursèd by my father's ghost, And blasted with incensèd breath of Heaven, If my heart beat[271] on ought but vengeance! May I be numb'd with horror, and my veins Pucker with singeing torture, if my brain Disgest[272] a thought but of dire vengeance; May I be fetter'd slave to coward Chance, 90 If blood, heart, brain, plot ought save vengeance. _Mar._ Wilt thou to bed? I wonder when thou sleep'st! I'faith thou look'st sunk-ey'd; go couch thy head: Now, faith, 'tis idle: sweet, sweet son, to bed. _Ant._ I have a prayer or two to offer up For the good, good prince, my most dear, dear lord, The duke Piero, and your virtuous self; And then, when those prayers have obtain'd success, In sooth I'll come (believe it now) and couch My head in downy mould. But first I'll see 100 You safely laid: I'll bring ye all to bed. Piero, Maria, Strotzo, Lucio, I'll see you all laid: I'll bring you all to bed, And then, i'faith, I'll come and couch my head, And sleep in peace. _Mar._ Look then, we go before. [_Exeunt all but_ ANTONIO. _Ant._ Ay, so you must, before we touch the shore Of wish'd revenge. O, you departed souls, That lodge in coffin'd trunks, which my feet press, (If Pythagorean Axioms be true, Of spirits' transmigration) fleet no more 110 To human bodies, rather live in swine, Inhabit wolves' flesh, scorpions, dogs, and toads, Rather than man. The curse of Heaven rains In plagues unlimited through all his days: His mature age grows only mature vice, And ripens only to corrupt and rot The budding hopes of infant modesty. Still striving to be more than man, he proves More than a devil. Devilish suspect, Devilish cruelty, 120 All hell-strai[n']d juice is pourèd to his veins, Making him drunk with fuming surquedries;[273] Contempt of Heaven, untam'd arrogance, Lust, state, pride, murder. _Ghost of And._ Murder! } _Ghost of Feli._ Murder! } _From above and beneath._ _Pan._[274] Murder! } _Ant._ Ay, I will murder: graves and ghosts Fright me no more, I'll suck red vengeance Out of Piero's wounds, Piero's wounds! [_Retires to the back of the stage._ _Enter two boys, with_ PIERO _in his night-gown and night-cap_. _Pier._ Maria, love, Maria! she took this aisle. Left you her here? On, lights, away! I think we shall not warm our beds to-day. 130 _Enter_ JULIO, FOROBOSCO, _and_ CASTILIO. _Jul._ Ho, father! father! _Pier._ How now, Julio, my little pretty son? Why suffer you the child to walk so late? _For._ He will not sleep, but calls to follow you, Crying that bug-bears and spirits haunted him.