_Ven._ The very same. And now methinks I could e'en chide myself For doating on her beauty, though her death Shall be revenged after no common action. Does the silkworm expend her yellow labours For thee? For thee does she undo herself? Are lordships sold to maintain ladyships, For the poor benefit of a bewildering minute? Why does yon fellow falsify highways, And put his life between the judge's lips, To refine such a thing--keeps horse and men To beat their valours for her? Surely we are all mad people, and they Whom we think are, are not: we mistake those; 'Tis we are mad in sense, they but in clothes. _Hip._ Faith, and in clothes too we, give us our due. _Ven._ Does every proud and self-affecting dame, Camphire her face for this, and grieve her Maker In sinful baths of milk, when many an infant starves For her superfluous outside--all for this? Who now bids twenty pounds a night? prepares Music, perfumes, and sweetmeats? All are hushed. Thou may'st lie chaste now! it were fine, methinks, To have thee seen at revels, forgetful feasts, And unclean brothels! sure, 'twould fright the sinner, And make him a good coward: put a reveller Out of his antic amble, And cloy an epicure with empty dishes. Here might a scornful and ambitious woman Look through and through herself. See, ladies, with false forms You deceive men, but cannot deceive worms.-- Now to my tragic business. Look you, brother, I have not fashioned this only for show And useless property; no, it shall bear a part E'en in its own revenge. This very skull, Whose mistress the duke poisoned, with this drug, The mortal curse of the earth, shall be revenged In the like strain, and kiss his lips to death. As much as the dumb thing can, he shall feel: What fails in poison, we'll supply in steel. _Hip._ Brother, I do applaud thy constant vengeance-- The quaintness of thy malice--above thought. _Ven._ So, 'tis laid on: [_He poisons the lips of the skull_] now come and welcome, duke, I have her for thee. I protest it, brother, Methinks she makes almost as fair a fine, As some old gentlewoman in a periwig. Hide thy face now for shame; thou hadst need have a mask now: 'Tis vain when beauty flows; but when it fleets, This would become graves better than the streets. _Hip._ You have my voice in that: hark, the duke's come. _Ven._ Peace, let's observe what company he brings, And how he does absent 'em; for you know He'll wish all private. Brother, fall you back a little With the bony lady. _Hip._ That I will. [_Retires._ _Ven._ So, so; now nine years' vengeance crowd into a minute! _Enter_ DUKE _and_ Gentlemen. _Duke._ You shall have leave to leave us, with this charge Upon your lives, if we be missed by the duchess Or any of the nobles, to give out, We're privately rid forth. _Ven._ O happiness!