VIRRO

Is your Lord a sleep? Y'haue lost a worthy and a hopeful son, But heaven that always gives, will sometime take And that the best, there is no balsome left us To cure such wounds as these but patience, There's no disputing with the acts of heaven, But if there were, in what could you accuse Those powers that else have been so liberal to you, And left you yet one comfort in your age: A fair and virtuous daughter. Your blood is not extinct, nor your age childless, from that fair branch thats left may come much fruit to glad posterity, think on that my Lord. Alas good Gentleman. I would, my Lord, I could as well redress As I can take compassion of your grief You should soon find and ease. You would feign sleep my Lord, I'll take my leave aven send you comfort, I shall make bold shortly to visit you. Yes sweet to me. Whom your scorn kills, and pity will revive. And so am I, if not relieved by you. I am your beauty's captive. Your beauty contradicts that freedom Lady. For me, what I prithee. Speak, what is't? And Heir. How, Thou art mad. But dost thou mock me. Where prithee. Why, Wertenberg thou at the house then. Beshrew my heart I know not what To think on't, till Like enough, this Lord was Always cunning beyond measure, and it Amazed me that he should grow so exreme Kind to me on the sudden to offer me all this: Beside this fellow is so confident, and on No ends of couznage that I can see; well, I would feign enjoy her, the Wench is Delicate, but I would have the estate too, and not be gulled, what shall I do, now brains If ever you will, help your Master. Well, so, Sir, What may I call your name? Your name as well as your attire Speakers you poor. And very poor. Would you not gladly take a course To get money, and a great some of money. Hark you. Fie, never Talk of the Conscience, and for Law thou art Free, for all men think him dead, and His father will be ashamed to follow it Having already given him for dead, And then who can know it, come be wise, Five hundredth crowns I'll give. When thou hast done it. Thou shalt. Now thou But love has made me bold, the time has been, In such a place as this I should have feared Each rolling leaf, and trembled at a reed Stirred in the Moonshine, my fearful fancy Would frame a thousand apparitions, And work some fear out of my very shadow: I wonder Philocles is tardy thus, When last we parted every hour, he said, Would seem a year till we were met again, It should not seem so by the hast he makes I'll fit and rest me, come I know he will. I conceive you Sir. I shall live my Lord to give you thanks, but aside. Will be after a strange manner, if Irus has Dispatched what he was hired too, then my kind Lord I shall be a little too cunning for you. I warrant you my Lord no pardon passes while I am there, isle be a bar betwixt him and the King, but hark the King approaches. My promised wife Is lately stolen away by Philocles, Lord Euphues son against her father's will, Who followed um and apprehended them, The Law may right us Sir, if it may have course. To his joust prayers do I bend my knee My promised wife is stolen, and by the son Of that injurious Lord, justice I crave. I told you what he would do, I knew He would not here of a pardon, and I against it, He respects me. Where the devil hath his mind been all this while, Perhaps he herd none of us neither, We may eene tell our tales again. What made him swear this I wonder. Pardon us my Lord, we were wronged. Fare well my Liege, now let him chafe alone. Nothing my Lords, I must confess the fact. Well my life is saved yet, though my wench be lost, God give you joy. How do you Sir. I'll wait upon your Lordship. exeunt manet Euge. solus. She loves me not yet, but that's no matter, I shall have her, her father says I shall, And I dare take his word, maids are quickly Overruled, ah, ah, me thinks I am grown younger Then I was by twenty years, this Fortune Cast upon me, is better then Medea's charm, to Make and old man young again, to have a Lords estate freely bestowed, and with it such A beauty as should warm Nectors blood, Make old Priam lusty. Fortune I see thou love me Now, I'll built a Temple to thee shortly, and Adore thee as the greatest deity. Now what are you. So are most of your profession, Thou shouldst to ke some more thriving Occupation, to be a judges man, they are The bravest now adays, or a Cardinals Pander, that were good profession and gainful. I thank his Majesty, I have his care before anon there man. I thank your Majesty, but the marriage that I intended is stolen to my hand, and by another. Nor I here is mad dancing. I do beseech your Lordship's not to credit What this base fellow speaks, I am innocent. But Sir, remember your self, remember your Daughter, let not your grief for the dead make You forget the living, whose Hope's, and Fortune's Depend upon your safety. Be Like your self, let not a cruel doom Pass those fair lips, that never were ordained To kill, but to revive. I'll do the best I may, but we old men Are but cold comfort, I thank your Lordship's love. Lawful, That Cardinal may come to be Pope, and Then he could pardon thee and himself too. Alas Sir I know your grief. Vile Cousner, cheating Lord, dissembler. Your Majesty is joust.