_Bos._ 'Twas to bring you By degrees to mortification. Listen. Hark, now every thing is still The screech-owl and the whistler shrill Call upon our dame aloud, And bid her quickly don her shroud! Much you had of land and rent; Your length in clay's now competent: A long war disturbed your mind; Here your perfect peace is signed. Of what is't fools make such vain keeping? Sin their conception, their birth weeping, Their life a general mist of error, Their death a hideous storm of terror. Strew your hair with powders sweet, Don clean linen, bathe your feet, And (the foul fiend more to check) A crucifix let bless your neck: 'Tis now full tide 'tween night and day; End your groan, and come away. _Cari._ Hence, villains, tyrants, murderers! alas! What will you do with my lady?--Call for help. _Duch._ To whom? to our next neighbours? they are mad-folks. _Bos._ Remove that noise. _Duch._ Farewell, Cariola. In my last will I have not much to give: A many hungry guests have fed upon me; Thine will be a poor reversion. _Cari._ I will die with her. _Duch._ I pray thee, look thou giv'st my little boy Some syrup for his cold, and let the girl Say her prayers ere she sleep. [CARIOLA _is forced out by the_ Executioners. Now what you please: What death? _Bos._ Strangling; here are your executioners. _Duch._ I forgive them: The apoplexy, catarrh, or cough o' the lungs, Would do as much as they do. _Bos._ Doth not death fright you? _Duch._ Who would be afraid on't, Knowing to meet such excellent company In the other world? _Bos._ Yet, methinks, The manner of your death should much afflict you: This cord should terrify you. _Duch._ Not a whit: What would it pleasure me to have my throat cut With diamonds? or to be smotherèd With cassia? or to be shot to death with pearls? I know death hath ten thousand several doors For men to take their exits; and 'tis found They go on such strange geometrical hinges, You may open them both ways; any way, for Heaven sake, So I were out of your whispering. Tell my brothers That I perceive death, now I am well awake, Best gift is they can give or I can take. I would fain put off my last woman's fault, I'd not be tedious to you. _1st Execut._ We are ready. _Duch._ Dispose my breath how please you; but my body Bestow upon my women, will you? _1st Execut._ Yes. _Duch._ Pull, and pull strongly, for your able strength Must pull down Heaven upon me:-- Yet stay; Heaven-gates are not so highly arched As princes' palaces; they that enter there Must go upon their knees [_Kneels._]--Come, violent death, Serve for mandragora to make me sleep!-- Go tell my brothers, when I am laid out, They then may feed in quiet. [_The_ Executioners _strangle the_ DUCHESS.[137]