Caf. This did I fear, but thought he had no Weapon;
For he was great of Heart.
Lod. Oh Spartan Dog!
More fell than Anguilh, Hunger, or the Sea,
Look on the Tragick Loading of this Bed;
This is thy work; the Objeđt poisons sight,
Let it be hid. Gratiano, keep the House,
And seize upon the Fortunes of the Moor,
For they succeed to you. To you, Lord Governor,
Remains the Censure of this hellith Villain :
The time, the place, the torture, oh inforce it.
My self will traight aboard, and to the State,
This heavy Ad, with heavy Heart, relate. [Exeant.
The End of the Fifth Volume.