She hath taught him in a dream
To make away his duchess and her husband.


Brach. Sweetly shall I interpret this your dream.
You are lodg'd within his arms who shall protect you
From all the fevers of a jealous husband,
From the poor envy of our phlegmatic duchess.
I 'll seat you above law, and above scandal;
Give to your thoughts the invention of delight,
And the fruition; nor shall government
Divide me from you longer, than a care
To keep you great: you shall to me at once
Be dukedom, health, wife, children, friends, and all.


Corn. [Advancing.] Woe to light hearts, they still forerun our fall!


Flam. What fury raised thee up? away, away. [Exit Zanche.


Corn. What make you here, my lord, this dead of night?
Never dropp'd mildew on a flower here till now.


Flam. I pray, will you go to bed then,
Lest you be blasted?