_Enter_ Ronvere, _Guard, Executioners, with a Rack,_ Camillo, Brissonet, Pandulfo, Juliana.
_Ca._ What e're we suffer, The weight that loads a Traitors Heart [sit] ever, heavy on thine.
_Briss._ As we are caught by thee, Fall thou by others.
_Ron._ Pish poor fools, your curses will Never reach me.
_Jul._ Now by my _Virolets_ life; Father, this is a glorious stage of murther. Here are fine properties too, and such spectators, As will expect good action, to the life; Let us perform our parts, and we shall live, When these are rotten, would we might begin once; Are you the Master of the company? Troth you are tedious now.
_Jul._ Thee and thy power, if one poor syllable Could win me an assurance of thy favor, I would not speak it, I desire to be The great example of thy cruelty, To whet which on, know _Ferrand_, I alone Can make discovery, where my _Virolet_ is, Whose life, I know thou aim'st at, but if tortures Compel me to't, may hope of heaven forsake me; I dare thy worst.
_Jul._ Thou art, Thou and thy Ministers, my life is thine; But in the death[, the] victory shall be mine.
_Pand._ We have such a Mistriss here to teach us courage, That cowards might learn from her.
_Fer._ You are slow; [_Put on the rack._ Begin the Scene thou miserable fool, For so I'll make thee.
_Jul._ 'Tis not in thy reach; I am happy in my sufferings, thou most wretched.
_Fer._ So brave! I'll tame you yet, pluck hard villains; Is she insensible? no sigh nor groan? or is she dead?
_Jul._ No tyrant, though I suffer More than a woman, beyond flesh and blood; 'Tis in a cause so honourable, that I scorn With any sign that may express a sorrow To shew I do repent.
_Fer._ Confess yet, And thou shalt be safe.
_Jul._ 'Tis wrapt up in my soul, From whence thou canst not force it.
_Fer._ I will be Ten daies a killing thee.
_Jul._ Be twenty thousand, My glory lives the longer.
_Ron._ 'Tis a miracle, She tires th' executioners, And me.
_Fer._ Unloose her, I am conquer'd, I must take Some other way; reach her my chair, in honor Of her invincible fortitude.
_Fer._ When I seem merciful, Assure thy self _Ronvere_, I am most cruel. Thou wonder of thy Sex, and of this Nation, That hast chang'd my severity to mercy, Not to thy self alone, but to thy people, In which I do include these men, my enemies: Unbind them.
