_Tam._ O, good my lord, forbeare In wreak of great faults to engender greater, 95 And make my loves corruption generate murther.
_Mont._ It followes needfully as childe and parent; The chaine-shot of thy lust is yet aloft, And it must murther; tis thine owne deare twinne. No man can adde height to a womans sinne. 100 Vice never doth her just hate so provoke, As when she rageth under vertues cloake. Write! for it must be--by this ruthlesse steele, By this impartiall torture, and the death Thy tyrannies have invented in my entrails, 105 To quicken life in dying, and hold up The spirits in fainting, teaching to preserve Torments in ashes that will ever last. Speak: will you write?
_Tam._ Sweet lord, enjoyne my sinne Some other penance than what makes it worse: 110 Hide in some gloomie dungeon my loth'd face, And let condemned murtherers let me downe (Stopping their noses) my abhorred food: Hang me in chaines, and let me eat these armes That have offended: binde me face to face 115 To some dead woman, taken from the cart Of execution?--till death and time In graines of dust dissolve me, Ile endure; Or any torture that your wraths invention Can fright all pitie from the world withall. 120 But to betray a friend with shew of friendship, That is too common for the rare revenge Your rage affecteth; here then are my breasts, Last night your pillowes; here my wretched armes, As late the wished confines of your life: 125 Now break them, as you please, and all the bounds Of manhood, noblesse, and religion.
_Mont._ Where all these have bin broken, they are kept In doing their justice there with any shew Of the like cruell cruelty: thine armes have lost 130 Their priviledge in lust, and in their torture Thus they must pay it. _Stabs her._
_Mont._ Till thou writ'st, Ile write in wounds (my wrongs fit characters) Thy right of sufferance. Write!
_Tam._ O kill me, kill me! Deare husband, be not crueller than death! 135 You have beheld some Gorgon: feele, O feele How you are turn'd to stone. With my heart blood Dissolve your selfe againe, or you will grow Into the image of all tyrannie.
_Mont._ As thou art of adultry; I will ever 140 Prove thee my parallel, being most a monster. Thus I expresse thee yet. _Stabs her againe._