Scene 4.
Pray go visit the Lady Amorous, and if her husband be ab∣sent, deliver her this letter.
Excuse me my Lord.
Wherefore?
I am no Carrier of Love-letters.
But you shall carry this.
But I will not.
Will you not?
No, I will rather endure all the torments that can be in∣vented.
And you shall; for I will torture you if you do not; for I will have you drawn up high by the two thumbs, which is a pain will force you to submit.
Do so if you will; nay scrue me up into the middle-Region, there will I take a Thunderbolt, and strike you dead, and with such strength I'll fling it on you, as it shall press your soul down to the everlasting shades of death.
Sure you will be more merciful.
No more than Devils are to sinful souls; there will I be your Bawd, to procure you variety of torments; for I had rather be one in Pluto's black Court, caused by my own revenge, than to be a Bawd on earth, which is a humane Devil.
You are mad.
Might every word I speak prove like a mad dogs bite, not only to transform your shape, and turn your speech to barks and howl∣ings, but that your soul may be no other than the souls of beasts are.
You are transformed from a silent young Maid to a raging Fury.
May all the Furies that Hell inhabites, and those that live