No keyword-matching excerpt could be extracted (the cluster label doesn't share vocabulary with this character's speech).
Full speech
Amen, Amen. Alas sir, so am I, There needs no Art, To help belief, where no suspicion is. I've much to promise in my own behalf: Of my future love, and humble duty To you my dearest Lord. Time lays his hand On Pyramids of Brass, and ruins quite What all the found Artificers did think Immortal workmanship. He sends his worms To Books, to old Records: and they devour That inscription. He loves Ingratitude, For he destro worser the memory of Man: But I shall near forget on what strange terms You ta me to your bed. It is a folly in my Eyes. I know not why they weep: unless they weep Because they now have lost their liberty; Heretofore each man, which chance presented, Was to them a lawful object: but now, They are to look on none but you. Though More est would suffer me to boast, Yet t'were not in the power of breath, to make My joy so known, as I is felt. I hope your Grace hath thoughts more me cifull. I know this match was made in Heaven; and not Provoked by any sinful art in me. How I have v ed him in this little time That he hath been my Lord: let him declare. My duty is so strict, I needs not blush To hear the story told. Alas (most gracious sir) go not about To make my Lord suspect my Loyalty. If Nature sickne in his faculties; Which (heaven be thanked) I perceived not yet, It cannot prove a guiltiness in me. I hope, your Grace will pardon Ignorance, That so ill mannerd is, as not to know Your meaning. I saw your entrance. How do you Sister? Watch my Lords coming from the Duke, and bring Me word, before he is vncoach'd The Lady Benuolia, or the Lady Vtruvia, who was it? That's fine faith, pray name him to me. How! was the Duke with you? Indeed, I daily pray to have it so. It is. But truly I mislike the manner of The gift. Dost thou think his thoughts are honourable? I prithee tell me? I'll show to my Lord. Thou counsayl'st well. Wee'll wear they both at once. Mine is the best, I ever was Mistress of. Come Sister, we shall here the news at Court. Out Devil. Wilt thou betray my soul too? Duarte hence! I am inspired with strength To make revenge prove masculine. Fly quickly hence. Why dost thou stay? There's Gold. I prithee wench in all thy Pilgrimage Disperse my fault in charitable sense. Use me nobly with thy Tongue. So farewell. Sing gentle youth; who knows if I shall live Timploy thy voice again. Hah! who is there? Farewell Youth! Get he to bed. Alas Sir, who do you mean? Oh Sir! I hope if you have herd the truth: You will conclude it as a rape i'th' Duke; And no adultery in me. My Noble Brother! Do not fright my sufferance: use me kindly With your tongue, and looks: I am already Reconciled to Heaven; and would perhaps Consent to your design. T'were not unnatural in me, to wish For life yet minding what constructions The world may make of my sinister chance— Do you conclude then, that I must now die? Ere I take my last leave of my kind Lord. Sir, speak no more: but use me as you please; I will obey in all. O, o, o. Commend me to my dearest Lord. I am His humble sacrifice. He'll not be more Unwilling to grant atonement: then I Have been to need it. The Fates give others Expiation: which now they want themselves. I speak too loud. For who dares chide with them That may employ Thunder. I come Celestial Choir!— I must ascend— Oh my Brother! while I am yet humane, Let me feel some interest in your blood. What fault of mine deserves impediments In my last journey? If my Lord were here He would have seen me used with mercy. Will not my Lord be merciful; to me, And to my memory. And will Posterity consent, that I Abide in List; with those of modest fame? O, o, o— Mercy Heaven! How should I tell, without you instruct me. Trust me wench, they are both full of glory Rarely cut, and set. Hence, hence, Like Time; who swiftly flys away, But evermore returns. Go cruel wench! Thou hast betrayed thy Mistress, even to Eternal lose. Angels that live above Have seen it all. They know thee well enough. In the general Session of the world; It will not my adultery be called; But a prodigious Rape derived from thee. Now all the motives of my Lords delight Exterminate for evermore with me. My silent Lute's interred in the Case. My voice now rather frights, then captivates The sense. Oh Sister, dare you visit me? I am a strumpet grown. Hence, and secure Your fame. I will tell thee all. For I should disgrace Iniquity to be modest now. The Duke— Hear my Luinna, hear. In amid of night, By my pernicious woman's help; He opens My chamber door: whose faithful Hinges shrieked, To warn me of his dire approach. His Hand Employed a Torch, a Torch; whose fancy weak Aged, and black, had overgrown the flame. And showed (me thought) Like unto Tarquin's Ghost; Preaching in fire: as if it counseled him, To prevent such penance by forsaking His attempt. This, I told him too. But he (That came not to consider, but to act) Over u ed my Hands with his: then made shipwreck Of my Honour. My Brother is a noble Gentleman. Go, go, and kneel to him. All jealousy Must still be strangled in its birth: or Time Will soon conspire to make it strong enough To overcome the truth. Shield us sweet Heaven! The Sybills dance about my Heart. They lay Their verges here: infusing a prophetic fear: Which whispers we shall never meet again, Lets take a solemn leave—farewell for ever Why what's the matter? I hope my brother's well
Plot summary
Plot — The Cruel Brother
As a favour to Lucio, to whom he is devoted, the Duke appoints the low-born Foreste his secretary, the first port of call for ali suitors seeking monopolies and preferment. Lucio also wants to marry Foreste’s sister, 1627 Corsa, arguing that she is ennobled by her virtue, though not her ancestry. He goes through with the marriage secretly, without the Duke’s permission; but the Duke is impressed by Corsa when they are introduced, and has her brought to court so that the marriage can be properly celebrated with masques and revels. Foreste humiliates the satirist Castruccio, but his elevation to the secretaryship prevents Castruccio from challenging him to a duel. The poet initially takes a literary revenge, but, when the Duke asks about his satires, he is too cowardly to admit that Foreste is the target. The rustic Lothario comes to court, dressing foppishly in the hope of becoming a ducal favourite. Castruccio persuades him that his lack of success is Foreste’s fault. Lothario accosts Foreste offensively and finds himself imprisoned in a tiny cell. The Duke’s real intention in bringing Corsa to court is to seduce her. He engages Foreste’s wife as an unwitting go-between, then sends Lucio away overnight on a diplomatic mission. With Castruccio’s assistance, he visits Corsa, and rapes her. Foreste learns of the rape and slits the dishonoured Corsa’s wrist; she bleeds to death. On his return, Lucio takes a more lenient view than Foreste — he places more weight on the compulsion than the sexual penetration — but both agree to take revenge on the Duke, and visit him in bed. In the end, they decide to spare him, but he has already arranged assassins to dispose of them: the job was given to Castruccio, who subcontracted it to Lothario. Lothario kills the Duke by mistake; Castruccio and his accomplice kill him, then finish the job by killing Foreste and Lucio. The conspirators are kept alive to answer questions, and then suffer a death of exemplary horribleness.