Part 33 (1/2)

Gas. Brachiano.

Lodo. Devil Brachiano, thou art d.a.m.n'd.

Gas. Perpetually.

Lodo. A slave condemn'd and given up to the gallows, Is thy great lord and master.

Gas. True; for thou Art given up to the devil.

Lodo. Oh, you slave!

You that were held the famous politician, Whose art was poison.

Gas. And whose conscience, murder.

Lodo. That would have broke your wife's neck down the stairs, Ere she was poison'd.

Gas. That had your villainous sallets.

Lodo. And fine embroider'd bottles, and perfumes, Equally mortal with a winter plague.

Gas. Now there 's mercury----

Lodo. And copperas----

Gas. And quicksilver----

Lodo. With other devilish 'pothecary stuff, A-melting in your politic brains: dost hear?

Gas. This is Count Lodovico.

Lodo. This, Gasparo: And thou shalt die like a poor rogue.

Gas. And stink Like a dead fly-blown dog.

Lodo. And be forgotten Before the funeral sermon.

Brach. Vittoria! Vittoria!