ANTONIO

Well of a wooden one, set forth by a Dancer and and Architect, as the fashion is. So sir; But now tell me Rigazzo, what have you learned all this time you have been with your Lord at the Uni versity? As what sir? I think sir your time was spent in such studies. 'Twas pity your Rogueship had not proceeded Master of Art in the faculty of thieving. Are you so nimble at your Logic sir? Take heed you labour not your self out o'breath, your learning's but short winded. Away, the Duke. Found Cornets or Hoboyes. Nay good my Lord yield not your self so much To these unseasoned Passion, that do fit Like midnight on your thoughts; me thinks the air Of Athens should have purged these humours quite: In troth, my Lord, the world will condemn you, Why of melancholy. Which some define is weakness in a Lord, And in a Lady pride or sullenness, But in a wise man it's flat foolery. It's your own fault, that thus will spend your self In such extremes of passion, that increase The number of your griefs above your spirit; Faith it's unmanly done; call you this love? Strange Symptoms of affection! Yet know my Lord that your indulgent Parents Out of their Princely care intended it But as a course of Physic, to recover Your lovesick thoughts, hoping that Time & Absence, Joined with the precepts of Philosophy Might purge you to a remissness of affection, And by degrees conquer this mouldy passion. Yet since in vain you strive To bandy with a mother, me thinks Love Tired in the depth of woe, should call your Reason To a new choice fitting your Birth and Fortune's. To see how strong love is, and the command It has over humane hearts! Poor Lord, I know Thy trueborn griefs are firm, and that chased faith Never conceived to wave with floating likeness; Makes thee thus sink into the depth of sorrow. Why sir? How came your knavery by such experience? Whither in the name of Mercury was that? O! how does her beauteous Ladyship? Physic defend! prithee of what disease? How does her Lord? The pox he does. Your neater word good Galateo? Farewell hedge-pike. Exeunt. My Lord impute it not to curiousness That I have urged your patience to unfold What you intend; for by the hallowed name Of zealous friendship, which my heart retains Engraved by your deserts, it's only love That makes me thus seem jealous of your good However would your Grace but try my faith By making it a partner in your ils, Till having passed these storms, and been approved Inviolably firm, it may deserve The name of friend to which't has long aspired, Do not torment my soul, but let me share Those passages of danger, that oppose Their hideous jaws against your innocent Hope's; For at no greater rate man sells his breath, Then with a friend to buy a faithful death. Then thus I take my leave With as much feeling pain, as if my foul Were by some violence shot from out my bowels, Farewell my Lord, my vows and wishes guard you From awkward Fate, whilst I betwixt hope and fear Attend the issue of these strange attempts. Wonder of wome ̄ ! could my attempts but yield Half what my heart conceives, these limbs should die, As many several death's as they contain Conduits of life, to make your innocence live, For your Lucilios sake, whose woes will swell Poor Lord, Like to a wind-driven Ocean, When he shall hear you dead, and bear him down To some disastrous end. My heart! force him to live, or by the Seat Of Justice, you shall die as many death's As you have Arteries. Post to the Duke before, and let him know The strangeness of the accident. Oh honoured Lord, be these Your harmless attempts that you concealed With such a nice reserv'dnesse from your friend? Come good my Lord, let us repair to Court That now stands wondering at this strange report. Nay, give me leave to tell your Grace my Lord, This strong desire of death, that hath possessed Your will thus far, does not express the signs Of that true valour your spirit seems to bear; For it's not courage, when the darts of chance Are thrown against our State, to turn our backs, And basely run to death; as if the hand Of Heaven and Nature had lent nothing else To oppose against mishap, but lose of life, Which is to fly and not to conquer it. For know it were true valours partly, my Lord, That when the hand of chance had crushed our States, Ruined all that our fairest Hope's had built, And thrown't in heaps of desolation; Then by those ruins for our thoughts to climb Up, till they dared blind fortune to the face, And urged her anger to increase those heaps, That we might rise with them, and make her know We were above, and all her power below. Why this my Lord would prove us men indeed. But when affliction thunders over our Roof, To hide our heads, and run into our graves Shows us no men, but makes us Fortune's slaves. Well Madam let's not stand to expostulate The cause; the act was foul, and (but the hand Of Heaven turned it from him against who ̄ you meant it) Hateful, and worthy of the deepest revenge. Your way is now to shun the furious wrath The Duke's inflamed with, and for a while Lie close in some disguise, till the lost Prince Make his return, who doubtless will ere long Give notice to my self where he remains: And for your farther assurance Lady, I'll take Some strange attire with you, and we will both Be present at the Execution. Where you shall hear perhaps the latest words The murderer will speak against your self, And in the presence of the Duke avouch Your guiltiness. Pardon me my Lord If I consent not: for should your safety call To leap the Tyrrhene Cliffs into the main, Stand in the face of a fired Canon, Or hale a sleeping Lion from the way Where you must pass, my love would force me run Against the edge of danger for your life. But this is only a pretended show To win our absence, that none may interrupt Your torrent of impatience, that posts Like melted Snow from off the Apenine Down to destruction. May I beleev't my Lord, Soft, I'll not leave you to go seek that end: your name shall travail, but I'll not carry it. Though you have vowed not to procure your death; you are in love— manet. Bravely performed Alastor, it's politicly done, be noble and do not strike. And therefore thou hadst no authority to use it: Come I have other business for thee, that shall gain thee gold. It is the better trade of the two by half: I know thou canst beg valiantly: but to the business. Thou knowest my Lord Lucilio goes away in disgrace betwixt banishment and travail: he is not well, and therefore would stay behind a while un known: only thou must go before and put on his name, that the world may take notice of his passage, and hold rumour busy, till he comes privately and overtakes thee—But come to my lodging, where I'll dispose of farther particulars, and furnish thee with apparel and crowns for thy journey. It's well that Charity is not run the Country then. But whom have you buried? Oh my apprehensive soul! I too too well. Poor Lord that wontest to wear this Relic, which is now left for and Index To turn thee to thy woes. Good Shepherd Grant me thus much and bestow it on me. Too timeless death that killed two hearts in one! And now Lucilio, where ere thou livest, Here we may jointly finish both our labours, Since here lies buried all thy Hope's and fears. Too virtuous maid Althea! could the earth Yield thee no better place to enshrine thee in: Yet can its baseness never dim thy name, That shall be sung into posterity By a whole raze of Virgins, and thy Fame Shall be a Tomb more durable to thee Then Brass or Marble. So farewell Althea! I'll straight return this news to thy sad mother, That she may give with some solemnities Thy unhappy death its latest exequies. exit. Madam, My love to you and to that virtuous Lord Could do no less: I do assure your Ladyship The murderer has confessed, in hope of life, The circumstances, means, and opportunity Which you so fitly urged, and hath incensed The Duke so violently against your self, That he has vowed your death, & does intend A sharp revenge to all your family. And but I know Lucilio yet does live, Believe me Madam I should hate the fact, And be the first should feed my thirsty eyes With their best blood, that spilled least partly of his. Your friend still lives, and never felt his life Sweet till this instant, when I may behold These joys combined. It's too late, I have missed him, and all my labour's lost. Speed you shepherd's and your work. Why is it sad then if both be sure of speeding? Only Alastors, a fellow as wicked as himself. I have done my Lord.