Sir,
I serv'd your tyranny, and rather strove
To satisfy yourself than all the world:
And though I loath'd the evil, yet I lov'd
You that did counsel it; and rather sought
To appear a true servant than an honest man.
FERDINAND. I 'll go hunt the badger by owl-light:
'Tis a deed of darkness.
Exit.
BOSOLA. He 's much distracted. Off, my painted honour!
While with vain hopes our faculties we tire,
We seem to sweat in ice and freeze in fire.
What would I do, were this to do again?
I would not change my peace of conscience
For all the wealth of Europe.--She stirs; here 's life:--
Return, fair soul, from darkness, and lead mine
Out of this sensible hell:--she 's warm, she breathes:--
Upon thy pale lips I will melt my heart,
To store them with fresh colour.--Who 's there?
Some cordial drink!--Alas! I dare not call:
So pity would destroy pity.--Her eye opes,
And heaven in it seems to ope, that late was shut,
To take me up to mercy.
DUCHESS. Antonio!
BOSOLA. Yes, madam, he is living;
The dead bodies you saw were but feign'd statues.
He 's reconcil'd to your brothers; the Pope hath wrought
The atonement.
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