Corn. Be thy act Judas-like; betray in kissing:
May'st thou be envied during his short breath,
And pitied like a wretch after his death!


Vit. O me accurs'd! [Exit.


Flam. Are you out of your wits? my lord,
I 'll fetch her back again.


Brach. No, I 'll to bed:
Send Doctor Julio to me presently.
Uncharitable woman! thy rash tongue
Hath rais'd a fearful and prodigious storm:
Be thou the cause of all ensuing harm. [Exit.


Flam. Now, you that stand so much upon your honour,
Is this a fitting time a' night, think you,
To send a duke home without e'er a man?
I would fain know where lies the mass of wealth
Which you have hoarded for my maintenance,
That I may bear my beard out of the level
Of my lord's stirrup.


Corn. What! because we are poor