'Tis Pity She's a Whore/Act V Scene I
ACTUS QUINTUS.
[SCENA PRIMA. The street before Soranzo's house.]
Enter Annabella above.
Annabella. Pleasures, farwell, and all yee thriftlesse minutesWherein false joyes have spun a weary life!To these my fortunes now I take my leave.Thou precious Time that swiftly rid'st in poast5Over the world to finish up the raceOf my last fate, here stay thy restlesse course,And beare to ages that are yet unborneA wretched, woefull woemans tragedy!My conscience now stands up against my lust10With dispositions[1] charectred in guilt,Enter Fryar [below].And tells mee I am lost: now I confesse,Beauty that cloathes the out-side of the faceIs cursed if it be not cloath'd with grace.Here like a turtle mew'd up in a cage,15Un-mated, I converse with ayre and walls,And descant on my vild unhappinesse.O, Giovanni, that hast had the spoyleOf thine owne vertues and my modest fame, Would thou hadst beene lesse subject to those stars20That luckelesse raign'd at my nativity!O would the scourge due to my blacke offenceMight passe from thee, that I alone might feeleThe torment of an uncontrouled flame! Fryar. [aside]. What's this I heare? Anna.That man, that blessed fryar,25Who joynd in ceremoniall knot my handTo him whose wife I now am, told mee oftI troad the path to death, and shewed mee how.But they who sleepe in lethargies of lustHugge their confusion, making heaven unjust;And so did I.30 Fry. [aside].Here's musicke to the soule! Anna. Forgive mee, my good Genius, and this onceBe helpfull to my ends: let some good manPasse this way, to whose trust I may commitThis paper double lin'd with teares and blood:35Which being granted, here I sadly vowRepentance, and a leaving of that lifeI long have dyed in. Fry.Lady, heaven hath heard you,And hath by providence ordain'd that IShould be his minister for your behoofe. Anna. Ha, what are you?40 Fry.Your brothers friend, the Fryar; Glad in my soule that I have liv'd to heareThis free confession twixt your peace and you.What would you, or to whom? Feare not to speake. Anna. Is heaven so bountifull? Then I have found45More favour then I hop'd. Here, holy man:Throwes a letter. Commend mee to my brother; give him that,That letter; bid him read it, and repent.Tell him that I, imprison'd in my chamber,Bard of all company, even of my guardian,—50Who gives me cause of much suspect,—have timeTo blush at what hath past; bidd him be wise,And not beleeve the friendship of my lord:I feare much more then I can speake: good father,The place is dangerous, and spyes are busie;I must breake off—you'le doe't?55 Fry.Be sure I will,And fly with speede.—My blessing ever restWith thee, my daughter; live to dye more blessed!Exit Fry. Anna. Thanks to the heavens, who have prolong'd my breathTo this good use! Now I can welcome death.Exit.
- ↑ 10 dispositions. G-D, depositions.