AMBITIOSO

No it's that tongue, Your too much right, dos do us too much wrong. Brother, this makes for thee, Fear not, weel have a trick to set thee free. That was not so well done Brother? It is our duties: make your self sure of us. No, thy death shall thank me better. My gracious Lord, take pity,— Yet my Lord, A Dukes soft hand strokes the rough head of law, And makes it lie smooth. Now brother, let our hate and love be woven So subtly together, that in speaking one word for his life, We may make three for his death, The craftiest pleader gets most gold for breath. Nay weed be loath to move your Grace too much, We know the tre'passe is unpardonable, Black, wicked, and unnatural, That as you please my Lord. But my Lord, Your Grace may live the wonder of all times, In pardning that offence which never yet Had face to beg a pardon. Forgive him good my Lord, he S your own son, And I must needs say 'twas the vildlier done. Be merciful—although— Your Grace does please to speak beside your spleen, I would it were so happy? All speed that may be, We could have wished his burden not so soar, We knew your Grace did but delay before. In troth 'tis true too! Excellent, Then am I heir—Duke in a minute. Blast occasion, He being packed, weel have some trick and wile, To wind our younger brother out of prison, That lies in for the Rape, the Ladies dead, And peoples thoughts will soon be buried. Meet; farewell, I am next now, Irise just in that place, Where thou'rt cut of, upon thy Neck kind brother, The falling of one head, lifts up another. I herein you show. Your selves good men, and upright officers, Pray let him die as private as he may, Do him that favour, for the gaping people. Will but trouble him at his prayers, And make him curse, and swear, and so die black. Will you be so far Kind? Why we do thank you, if we live to be, You shall have a better office, Fine fools in office! So happily, come brother ere next clock, His head will be made serve a bigger block. Was not his execution rarely plotted? We are the Dukes sons now. Your policy, for what? Heart, it a thing I thought on too. Sir I say, it in my head. You'd have the honour on't forsooth, that your wit Led him to the scaffold, Me thinks you're much too bold, you should a little Remember us brother, next to be honest Duke. Well, cold he is by this time, and because Wee're both ambitious, be it our amity, And let the glory be sharde equally. This night out younger brother shall out of prison, I have a trick. Weel get him out by a wile. No sir, you shall not know it, till't be done, For then you'd swear it yours. One of the officers. How now my friend? All's sure our own: Brother, canst weep thinkest thou? Twould grace our Flattery much; think of some Dame, 'Twill teach thee to dissemble. Our sorrows are so fluent, Our eyes ore-flow our tongues, words spoke in tears, Are Like the murmurs of the waters, the found Is loudly herd, but cannot be distinguished. He showed himself a Gentleman in that: give him his endue. It was not in our powers, but the Dukes pleasure, Finely dissembled a both-sides, sweet fate, Oh happy opportunity. Released? We were both ee'n amazed with joy to see it, I know your delivery brother Had not been half so sudden but for us. Oh death and vengeance. Slave camest thou to delude us. I, our brother, the Dukes son. Whose head's that then? Our brother's? o furies— Confusions. Devils. So damnedly. Oh fatal. Did we dissemble? Laugh and rejoice for thee. Mock off thy head A murren meet they, there's none of these wiles that ever come to good: I see now, there is nothing sure in mortali tie, but mortality, well, no more words shalt be revenged i'faith. Come, throw off clouds now brother, think of vengeance, And deeper settled hate, sirrah fit fast, Weel pull down all, but thou shalt down at last. Sfoot brother hold. Hold, hold, brother? there's fitter time then now. 'Tis too much seen already. If she were bent lasciviously, the fault Of mighty women, that sleep soft,—Oh death, Must she needs choose such and unequal sinner: To make all worse. Oh our disgrace. Most women have small waste the world throughout, But there desires are thousand miles about. Over what roof hangs this prodigious Comet, In deadly fire. I you may take my word fort. Is't so, 'ts very good, And do you think to be Duke then, kind brother: I'll see fair play, drop one, and there lies tother. How now? all murdered! Here's a labour saved, I thought to have sped him, Sbloud how came this. Thou Duke,! brother thou liest. We are i'faith to say true.—come let's not linger I'll to the Officers, go you before, And set and edge upon the Executioner. Officers? heres the Dukes signet, your firm warrant, Brings the command of present death a long with it Unto our brother, the Dukes son; we are sorry, That we are so unnaturally employde In such and unkind Office, fitter far For enemies then brother's. I alas poore-good-soule, He must break fast betimes, the executioner Stands ready to put forth his cowardly valour. Alive!