1828.] The Witch. 



From a false trap-door fell into a depth 

 Exceeds a temple's height, which takes into it 

 Part of the dungeon that falls threescore fathom 

 Under the castle. 



Gov. Oh, you seed of lust ! 



Wrongs, and revenges wrongful, with what terrors 

 You do present yourselves to wretched man 

 When his soul least expects you ! 



* * * * # # 



Yet all this clears not you. {To CELIO.) 



Seb. Thanks to Heav'n 



C He discovers himself to be SEBASTIAN.} 

 That I am now of age to clear myself, there ! 



Gov. Sebastian ! 



Seb. The same, much wronged,, Sir. 



Isa. Am I certain 

 Of what mine eye takes joy to look upon ? 



Seb. Your service cannot alter me from knowledge : 

 I am your servant ever. 



Gov. Welcome to life, Sir ! 

 Gaspar, thou swor'st his death. 



* # * * # # 

 Seb. And I was dead, Sir, 



Both to my joys, and all men's understanding, 

 Till this my hour of life ; for 'twas my fortune 

 To make the first of my return to Urbin 

 A witness to that marriage: since which time 

 I've walk'd beneath myself and all my comforts, 

 Like one in earth whose joys are laid above. 

 And though it had been offence small in me 

 T' enjoy my own, I left her pure and free. 



Gov. The greater and more sacred is thy blessing : 

 For where Heaven's bounty holy ground- work finds, 

 'Tis like a sea, encompassing chaste minds. 



Enter, Duchess. 



Her. The Duchess comes, my lord. 

 Gov. Be you then all witnesses 

 To an intent most horrid. 



* * * * * # 

 Madam ! 



Duch. My lord ! 



Gov. This is the hour that I've so long desired : 

 The tumult's full appeas'd : now may we both 

 Exchange embraces with a fortunate arm, 

 And practice to make love-knots thus ! 

 (He draws a curtain, and discovers the Duke laid out as a corpse.) 



Duch. My lord! 



Gov. Thus, lustful woman, and bold murd'ress, thus ! 

 Bless'd powers, to make my loyalty and truth 



So happy ! 



Look there, thou stain of greatness shame of honour ! 

 Behold thy work, and weep before thy death ! 

 If thou be'est blest with sorrow and a conscience, 

 Which is a gift from Heav'n, and seldom knocks 

 At any murderer's breast with sounds of comfort. 

 See this, thy worthy and unequall'd piece 

 A fair encouragement for another husband ! 



