HORATIO

Oh my léedge I have a heart thrice stronger then my years and that shall answer gratefully for me. Let not my youthful blush impare my vallor, If ever you have foes, or read field scars, I'll empty all my veins to serve your wars: I'll bleed for you: and more, what speech affords, isle speak in drops when I do fail in words. I humbly thank your highness, In placing me next unto his royal bosom. Whither in such hast my second self. Thats a woman. See see, she meets you here: And what it is to love? And be loved dear, Oh you swear sweetly. All honour, one Andreas steps attend. Nay Lady if you stoop so much to passion, isle call him back again. Then Madam be composed as you wear wont, to music and delight, the time being Comic, will Seem short and pleasant, till his return From Portingale: and madam in this circle, Let your heart move, Honoured promotion is the sap of love. He dares been damned Like Thee. Oh my true breasted father, my ears have sukt In poison, deadly Poison, murder Andrea : Oh Inhuman practis, had not your reverend Years been present here, I should have Ponyarded the villains bowels, and shoved his Soul out to Damnation, Murder Andrea : Honest lord: Impious villains. Oh father: 'Tis a charitable deed, To prevent those that would make virtue bleed. I'll dispatch letters to done andrea, Unfold their hellish Practice, damned intent, Against the virtuous rivers of his life? Murder andrea. Murder andrea : What blood sucking slave Could choke bright honour in a skabard graven, Lorenzo has a reach as far as hell, To hook the devil from his flaming cell O sprightly father heel out rech you then, Knaves, longer reaches have the ̄ honest men. Done Pedro. My other soul, my bosom, my hearts friend. My Oh Andrea slain, isle have the price Of him in princely blood; Prince Balthezer My sword shall strike true strains, And etch Andreas ransom fourth thy veins, Lord General driven them hence while I make war? No Father cleaner then lorenzoes soul, Thats dipped in ink made of and envious gall, Elce had my pen no cause to write at all. Signeor andrea. That a nobleman should be a knave, as Well as and Ostler. Or a seriant. Or a Broker. S oot, Father de not write him honest Lord. Oh, I cry you mercy Father, meant you so. Jeronimo Marshal. Signeor andrea 'tis a villainus age this, That a Nobleman should be a knave, as well As and Ostler: or a Seriant, or a broker, yet I speak not this of Lorenzo : he's and Honest Lord, and has hired one to murder you, When you return from Portugal, yet He's and honest Dukes son, but not the Honest son of a Duke? Oh that villainy Should be found in the great chamber, and honesty In the bottom of a seller. Well peace, with my blood dispense Until my leedge shall end the difference. Speak prince to whither dost thou yield? Oh abject prince, what dost thou yield to two? Come noble rib of honour, valiant carcase, I loved thee so entirely when thou breathest, That I could die Wertenberg but to bleed with thee, And wish me wounds, even for society. Heaven and this arm, once saved Thee from thy foe, When his all wrathful sword did basely point At the rich circle of thy labouring heart, Thou groveling under indignation, Of sword and ruth, Oh then stepped heaven and I, Between the stroke, but now alack must die: Since so the powers above have writ it down, In marble leaves that death is mortal crowned, Come then my friend in purple I will bear, Thee to my private tent, and then prepare, For honoured Funeral for thy melting course. This scarce isle wear in memory of our souls, And of our muteall loves, here, here, isle wind it, And full as often as I think one Thee, I'll kiss this little ensign this soft banner, Smeard with foes blood, all for the masters honour, Alas I pity Bellimperias eyes, Just at this instant her heart Sinks and die. true Madam Belimperia, thats his task the phrase he uses must be gently stylde, the king hath warned him to be smooth and mild. I pray you pardon me, it but youths Hasty error. And has hired one to murder you. Oh she played us a with e partly, now ten to one He had not over herd the letter read, joust as he entered. andrea slain, then weapon cling my breast. I villain: for thou aymst at this true heart. It happiness indeed. And heaven bless you my father in this fight, that I may see your Grey head crowned in white. Are you not wounded: let me search and see? Lets to the battle once more, we may meet. This haughty prince, and wound him at our feet. Oh my Lords? See Done Andreas ghost salutes me, see embraces me. Do you not see him plainly Lords, Now he would kiss my cheek, Oh my pale friend, Wertenberg thou any thing but a ghost I could love Thee, See he points at his own hearse, mark all, As I he did rejoice at funeral. See, see, he points to have his go forward on, I prithee rest, it shall be done sweet Done, Oh now he's vanished. These honoured rights and worthy duties spent Upon the Funeral of Andreas dust, Though e once his valiant ashes, march we now Homeward with victory to crown Spain's brow. What right him honest Lord isle not agree. well, well. Lorenzoes and honest Lord. From Portugal. Yet he's and But not the honest. Oh that villainy. And honesty. If yowl be I you be not. If you be thank. Thus hoping you will. Especially I take my leave boy, Horatio, write leave, Bending in the hams Like and old Courtier, Thy assured friend say, gainst lorenza and The devil, little Jeronimo Marshal. If yowl be murdered you may: if you be Not thank God and Jeronimo : if you be, Thank the devil & Lorenzo. Thus hoping You will not be murdered, and you can choose, Especially being warned before hand, I take my leave. Lives Done andrea. Oh ignoble spirit? To term him coward for his virtuous merit And thou Done Pedro mine? Father I doubt it not. I thou be'st valiant cease these idle words, And let revenge hang on our glittering swords, With this proud prince the haughty Balthezer. Hand of lorenzo touch not my prisoner. Oh base renown 'tis easy to seize those, Were orst laid down. Well my Lord to you a while I tender my Whole pri over. So: 'tis done, 'tis done. Thy assured friend gainst Lorenza, and the devil, Little Jeronimo, Marshal. But to demand the tribute Lady. He is the court food father, 'tis a villainus age this.