VEN. Privately rid forth! He strives to make sure work on't. Your good grace!
DUKE. Piato, well-done, hast brought her! what lady is't?
VEN. Faith, my lord, a country lady, a little bashful at first, as most of them are; but after the first kiss, my lord, the worst is past with them. Your grace knows now what you have to do; she has somewhat a grave look with her--but--
DUKE. In gravest looks the greatest faults seem less. Give me that sin that's rob'd in holiness.
VEN. Back with the torch! brother, raise the perfumes.
DUKE. How sweet can a duke breathe! Age has no fault. Pleasure should meet in a perfumed mist. Lady, sweetly encountered: I came from court, I must be bold with you. O, what's this? O!
VEN. Brother, place the torch here, that his affrighted eyeballs May start into those hollows. Duke, dost know Yon dreadful vizard? View it well; 'tis the skull Of Gloriana, whom thou poisonedst last.
VEN. Villains all three! the very ragged bone Has been sufficiently reveng'd.
HIP. Yes, my lord; treason! treason! treason!
VEN. Alas! poor lecher: in the hands of kraves, A slavish duke is baser than his slaves.
VEN. Your tongue? 'twill teach yon to kiss closer, Not like a slobbering Dutchman. You have eyes still: Look, monster, what a lady hast thou made me! [_Discovers himself._ My once betrothed wife.
HIP. And let this comfort thee: our lord and father Fell sick upon the infection of thy frowns, And died in sadness: be that thy hope of life.
VEN. He had his tongue, yet grief made him die speechless. Puh! 'tis but early yet; now I'll begin To stick thy soul with ulcers. I will make Thy spirit grievous sore; it shall not rest, But like some pestilent man toss in thy breast. Mark me, duke: Thou'rt a renowned, high and mighty cuckold.
VEN. Thy bastard--thy bastard rides a-hunting in thy brow.
VEN. Nay, to afflict thee more, Here in this lodge they meet for damned clips.[77] Those eyes shall see the incest of their lips.
DUKE. Is there a hell besides this, villains?
VEN. Villain! Nay, heaven is just; scorns are the hires of scorns: I ne'er knew yet adulterer without horns.
VEN. Hark! the music: Their banquet is prepar'd, they're coming--
VEN. Thou shalt not lose that sight for all thy dukedom.