DELIO

Y OU are welcome to your Country (deer A toni ) You have been long in France, and you return A very formal Frenchman, in your habit. How do you Like the French Court? Geometry? I knew this fellow (seven years) in the Galleys, For a notorious murder, and 'twas thought The Cardinal suborned it: he was released By the French General (Gaston de Foux) When he recovered Naples. The Presence begins to fill, you promised me To make me the partaker of the nature's Of some of your great Courtiers. Now (Sir) your promise: what's that Cardinal? I mean his Temper? they say he's a brave fellow, Will play his five thousand crowns, at Tennis, Dance, Court Ladies, and one that hath fought single Combats. You have given too much of him: what's his brother? Twins? Then the Law to him Is Like a fowl black cobweb, to a Spider, He makes it his dwelling, and a prison To entangle those shall feed him. Fie Antonia, You play the wiredrawer with her commendations. And so long since married? You amaze me. Lights there, lights. Have you prepared Those Ladies to attend her? and procured That politic safe conveyance for the Midwife Your Duchess plotted. Make use then of this forced occasion: Give out that Bosola hath poisoned her, With these Apricots: that will give some colour For her keeping close. For that you may pretend She'll use some prepared Antidote of her own, Least the Physicians should repoyson her. How fares it with the Duchess? Speak to her all happy comfort. Do not doubt me, Believe it, It's but the shadow of your fear, no more: How superstitiously we mind our evils? The throwing down salt, or crossing of a Hare; Bleeding at nose, the stumbling of a horse: Or singing of a Criket, are of pour To daunt whole man in us: Sir, fare you well: I wish you all the joys of a blessed Father; And (for my faith) lay this unto your breast, Old friends (Like old swords) still are trusted best. I was bold to come and see you. Do you lie here? Very well: I have brought you no commendations from your husband For I know none by him. I never knew man, and beast, of a horse, and a knight, So weary of each other, if he had had a good back, He would have undertook to have born his horse, His breech was so pitifully soar. Lady, I know not whither You want money, but I have brought you some. No, from mine own allowance. Look on't, it's gold, hath it not a fine colour? Try the found on't. With good speed, I would wish you (At such time, as you are nonresident With your husband) my mistress. Very fine, Is this her wit, or honesty that speaks thus? I herd one say the Duke was highly moved With a letter sent from Malfy: I do fear Antonio is betrayed: how fearfully Shows his ambition now, (unfortunate Fortune) "They pass through whirlpools, and deep woes do shun, Who the event weigh, ere the action's done. Exit. I did Sir, and how fairs your noble Duchess? Me thinks 'twas yesterday: Let me but wink, And not behold your face, which to mine eye Is somewhat leaner, verily I should dream It were within this half hour. pray Sir tell me, Hath not this news arrived yet to he ear; Of the Lord Cardinal ? Pray why? What say the common people. And your graver heads, (Which would he politic) what censure they? The Lord Ferdinand Is going to bed. No employment (my Lord) A marginal note in the muster-book, that he is A voluntary Lord. He ha worn gunpowder, in's hollow tooth, for the toothache. He hath read all the late service, As the City Chronicle relates it, And keep two Pewterers going, only to express Battles in model. By the Almanac, I think To choose good days, and shun the Critical That's his mistress scarf. I think he would run away from a battle To save it from taking prisoner. I saw a Duch-man break his pate once For calling him potgun, he made his head Have a boar in't, Like a musket. I knew him in Padua, a fantastical scholar, Like such, who study to know how many knots was in Hercules club, of what colour A hills beard was, Or whither Hector were not troubled with the toothache, He hath studied himself half bleare-ei'd, to know the True semitry of Caesars nose by a shooing-horne, and this He did to gain the name of a speculative man. Like a deadly Cannon, That lightens ere it smokes. In such a deformed silence, witches whisper their charms. I misdoubt it For though they have sent their letters of safe conduct For your repair to Milan, they appear But Nets, to entrap you: The Marquis of Pescara, Under whom you hold certain land in Cheit, Much against his noble nature, hath been moved To ceize those lands, and some of his dependants Are at this instant, making it their suit To be invested in your Revenues. I cannot think, they mean well to your life, That do deprive you of your means of life, Your living. Here comes the Marquis: I will make my self Petitioner for some partly of your land, To know whither it is flying. Sir, I have a suit to you. And easy one: There is the Citadel of St. Bennet, With some demesnes, of late in the possession Of Antonio Bologna, please you bestow them on me? No sir? Sir: I am Little bound to you: Because you denied this suit, to me, and gau't To such a creature. You instruct e well: What course do you mean to take, Antonio ? I'll second you in all danger: and (how ere) My life keeps rank with yours Yond's the Cardinal's window: This fortification Grew from the ruins of and ancient Abbey: And to yond fidem o'th' river, lies a wall (Peec of a Cloister) which in my opinion Gives the best Echo, that you ever herd; So hollow, and so dismal, and withal So plain in the distinction of our words, That many have supposed it is a Spirit That answers. Now the Echo hath caught you: I told you 'twas a pretty one: You may make it A Huntsman, or a Faulconer, a Musician, Or a Thing of Sorrow. Come: let's us walk farther from't: I Would not have you go toth' Cardinals to night: Do not. Wisdom does not more moderate, wasting Sorrow Then time: take time for't: be mindful of thy safety. Hark: the dead stones seem to have pity on you And give you good counsel. Your fancy; merely. Your own virtue save you: I'll fetch your eldest son; and second you: It may be that the sighed of his own blood Spread in so sweet a figure, may beget The more compassion. How ever, fare you well: Though in our Misery's, Fortune have a partly, Yet, in our noble sufferings, she hath none, Contempt of pain, that we may call our own. Exe. I herd so, and Was armed for't ere I came: Let us make noble use Of this great ruin; and join all our force To establish this young hopeful Gentleman In's mother's right. These wretched eminent things Leave no more fame behind they, then should one Fallen in a frost, and leave his print in snow, As soon as the sun shines, it ever melts, Both form, and matter: I have ever thought Nature does nothing so great, for great men, As when she's pleased, to make them Lords of truth: "Integrity of life, is fame's best friend, Which nobly (beyond Death) shall crown the end. Exeunt.