_Mal._ Thy shame more than thy wounds do grieve me far: Thy wounds but leave upon thy flesh some scar; But fame ne'er heals, still rankles worse and worse; Such is of uncontrollèd lust the curse. Think what it is in lawless sheets to lie; But, O Ferneze, what in lust to die! Then thou that shame respect'st, O, fly converse 220 With women's eyes and lisping wantonness! Stick candles 'gainst a virgin wall's white back, If they not burn, yet at the least they'll black. Come, I'll convey thee to a private port, Where thou shalt live (O happy man!) from court. The beauty of the day begins to rise, From whose bright form night's heavy shadow flies. Now 'gin close plots to work; the scene grows full, And craves his eyes who hath a solid skull. [_Exit, conveying_ FERNEZE _away_. [439] Ed. 2. "methodicall." [440] Some copies of ed. 1. "operation." [441] Washing with cosmetics. [442] Ed. 2. "We." [443] Ed. 2. "your." [444] "For this ... sovereign."--These words are omitted in ed. 2. [445] Dodsley's correction.--Ed. 1. "pent;" ed. 2. "spent." [446] Ed. 2. "the." [447] Ironical exclamation. [448] At this time Rochelle was an asylum for persecuted Protestants. [449] Ed. 2. "have." [450] "Jam seges est ubi Troja fuit."--Ovid, _Her. Epist._ i. 53. [451] "Hæc finis Priami fatorum."--Virgil, _Æn._ ii. 554. [452] Ed. 2. "dooth." ACT III. SCENE I. _A room in the Duke's Palace._ _Enter_ PIETRO, MENDOZA, EQUATO, _and_ BILIOSO. _Pietro._ 'Tis grown to youth of day: how shall we waste this light? My heart's more heavy than a tyrant's crown. Shall we go hunt? Prepare for field. [_Exit_ EQUATO. _Men._ Would ye could be merry! _Pietro._ Would God I could! Mendoza, bid 'em haste. [_Exit_ MENDOZA. I would fain shift place; O vain relief! Sad souls may well change place, but not change grief: As deer, being struck, fly thorough many soils,[453] Yet still the shaft sticks fast, so---- _Bil._ A good old simile, my honest lord. 10 _Pietro._ I am not much unlike to some sick man That long desirèd hurtful drink; at last Swills in and drinks his last, ending at once Both life and thirst. O, would I ne'er had known My own dishonour! Good God, that men should desire To search out that, which, being found, kills all Their joy of life! to taste the tree of knowledge, And then be driven from out paradise!-- Canst give me some comfort? 19