Flam. Kill'd with a couple of braches!
Vit. No fitter offing for the infernal furies,
Than one in whom they reign'd while he was living.
Flam. Oh, the way 's dark and horrid! I cannot see:
Shall I have no company?
Vit. Oh, yes, thy sins
Do run before thee to fetch fire from hell,
To light thee thither.
Flam. Oh, I smell soot,
Most stinking soot! the chimney 's afire:
My liver 's parboil'd, like Scotch holly-bread;
There 's a plumber laying pipes in my guts, it scalds.
Wilt thou outlive me?
Zan. Yes, and drive a stake
Through thy body; for we 'll give it out,
Thou didst this violence upon thyself.
Flam. Oh, cunning devils! now I have tried your love,
And doubled all your reaches: I am not wounded.
[Flamineo riseth.
The pistols held no bullets; 'twas a plot
To prove your kindness to me; and I live
To punish your ingratitude. I knew,
One time or other, you would find a way
To give a strong potion. O men,
That lie upon your death-beds, and are haunted
With howling wives! ne'er trust them; they 'll re-marry
Ere the worm pierce your winding-sheet, ere the spider
Make a thin curtain for your epitaphs.
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