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'Tis fit such as he shou'd be chastis'd, that do abuse Hospitality. Come, come, to Bed; the Lady, Sir, expects you. Bel. Gentlemen, good Night. SCENE II. A Bed Chamber. Enter Diana. Dia. I long to know the Cause of Bellmour's Disorder to Night, and here he comes. Enter Bellmour, Lord, Charles, and the rest. Char. Shan't we see you laid, Brother? Bel.
The Duke, when he had taken Romania, finding it had been under the hands of poor Lords who had rather pillag'd their subjects, than chastis'd or amended them, giving them more cause of discord, than of peace and union, so that the whole countrey was fraught with robberies, quarrels, and other sorts of insolencies; thought the best way to reduce them to termes of pacification, and obedience to a Princely power, was, to give them some good government: and therefore he set over them one Remiro D'Orco, a cruel hasty man, to whom he gave an absolute power.
This you hear is not my tongue, Which once said what I conceived, For it was of use bereaved, With a cruel answer stung. No, though tongue to roof be cleaved, Fearing lest he chastis'd be, Heart and soul do sing in me. O fair, O sweet, &c. Just accord all music makes: In thee just accord excelleth, Where each part in such peace dwelleth, One of other beauty takes.
"When I'm chastis'd I'll not complain, Tho' my old nature suffer pain; Tho' it should come so sharp and hot, Even to slay me on the spot. "I will no longer use deceit, I will abhor the hypocrite; His forged lies I now will hate His portion is the burning lake. "My vile affections they shall die, And ev'ry lust I'll crucify; I'll labor to be clean and pure, And to the end I will endure.
This you hear is not my tongue, Which once said what I conceived, For it was of use bereaved, With a cruel answer stung. No, though tongue to roof be cleaved, Fearing lest he chastis'd be, Heart and soul do sing in me. O fair, O sweet, &c. Just accord all music makes: In thee just accord excelleth, Where each part in such peace dwelleth, One of other beauty takes.
'nothing left remarkable Beneath the visiting moon. She tells Proculeius before he surprises her that she would gladly look Caesar in the face, but she tries to stab herself, for, 'Know, sir, that I Will not wait pinion'd at your master's court; Nor once be chastis'd with the sober eye Of dull Octavia. Shall they hoist me up And show me to the shouting varletry Of censuring Rome?
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