_Gra_, O happy child! faith, and thy birth hath saved me. 'Mong thousand daughters, happiest of all others: Be thou a glass for maids, and I for mothers. [_Exeunt._ ACT THE FIFTH. SCENE I._--A Room in the Lodge. The_ DUKE'S _corpse, dressed in_ VENDICE'S _disguise, lying on a couch._ _Enter_ VENDICE _and_ HIPPOLITO. _Ven._ So, so, he leans well; take heed you wake him not, brother. _Hip._ I warrant you my life for yours. _Ven._ That's a good lay, for I must kill myself. Brother, that's I, that sits for me: do you mark it? And I must stand ready here to make away myself yonder. I must sit to be killed, and stand to kill myself. I could vary it not so little as thrice over again; 't has some eight returns, like Michaelmas term.[229] _Hip._ That's enow, o' conscience. _Ven._ But, sirrah, does the duke's son come single? _Hip._ No; there's the hell on't: his faith's too feeble to go alone. He brings flesh-flies after him, that will buzz against supper-time, and hum for his coming out. _Ven._ Ah, the fly-flap of vengeance beat 'em to pieces! Here was the sweetest occasion, the fittest hour, to have made my revenge familiar with him; show him the body of the duke his father, and how quaintly he died, like a politician, in hugger-mugger,[230] made no man acquainted with it; and in catastrophe slay him over his father's breast. O, I'm mad to lose such a sweet opportunity! _Hip._ Nay, tush! prythee, be content! there's no remedy present; may not hereafter times open in as fair faces as this? _Ven._ They may, if they can paint so well. _Hip._ Come now: to avoid all suspicion, let's forsake this room, and be going to meet the duke's son. _Ven._ Content: I'm for any weather. Heart! step close: here he comes. _Enter_ LUSSURIOSO. _Hip._ My honoured lord! _Lus._ O me! you both present? _Ven._ E'en newly, my lord, just as your lordship entered now: about this place we had notice given he should be, but in some loathsome plight or other. _Hip._ Came your honour private? _Lus._ Private enough for this; only a few Attend my coming out. _Hip._ Death rot those few! [_Aside._ _Lus._ Stay, yonder's the slave. _Ven._ Mass, there's the slave, indeed, my lord. 'Tis a good child: he calls his father a slave! [_Aside._ _Lus._ Ay, that's the villain, the damned villain. Softly. Tread easy. _Ven._ Pah! I warrant you, my lord, we'll stifle in our breaths. _Lus._ That will do well: Base rogue, thou sleepest thy last; 'tis policy To have him killed in's sleep; for if he waked, He would betray all to them. _Ven._ But, my lord-- _Lus._ Ha, what say'st? _Ven._ Shall we kill him now he's drunk? _Lus._ Ay, best of all. _Ven._ Why, then he will ne'er live to be sober. _Lus._ No matter, let him reel to hell. _Ven._ But being so full of liquor, I fear he will put out all the fire. _Lus._ Thou art a mad beast.