--I am your adventure, am I not?
BOSOLA. You are: you must see your husband no more.
DUCHESS. What devil art thou that counterfeit'st heaven's thunder?
BOSOLA. Is that terrible? I would have you tell me whether
Is that note worse that frights the silly birds
Out of the corn, or that which doth allure them
To the nets? You have heark'ned to the last too much.
DUCHESS. O misery! like to a rusty o'ercharg'd cannon,
Shall I never fly in pieces?--Come, to what prison?
BOSOLA. To none.
DUCHESS. Whither, then?
BOSOLA. To your palace.
DUCHESS. I have heard
That Charon's boat serves to convey all o'er
The dismal lake, but brings none back again.
BOSOLA. Your brothers mean you safety and pity.
DUCHESS. Pity!
With such a pity men preserve alive
Pheasants and quails, when they are not fat enough
To be eaten.
BOSOLA. These are your children?
DUCHESS. Yes.
BOSOLA. Can they prattle?
DUCHESS.
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