ANSELMO

You press me to and act, both full of danger, And full of happiness, for I behold. Your father's frowns, his threats, nay perhaps death, To him that dare do this, yet noble Lord, Such comfortable beams break through these clouds, By this blessed marriage, that your honoured word Being pawned in my defence) I will tie fast, The holy wedding Knot. Oh son, wisely to fear: Is to be free from fear. Stay, when is't fit for me, safest for you, To entertain this business. Be't so, there is a chapel stands hard by, Upon the West end of the Abbey wall, Thither convey your selves, and when the sun Hath turned his back upon this upper world, I'll marry you, that done, no that ndring voice, Can break the sacred bound, yet Lady here you are most safe. Son be not desperate have patience, you shall trip your enemy down, by his own slights, how far is the Duke he ̄ ce. You shall steal secretly into the Chapel, And presently be married; if the duke Abide here still, spite of ten thousand eyes, You shall escape hence Like Friars. Talk not of happiness till your closed hand, Have her bit ' forehead, Like the lock of time, Be not too slow, nor hasty, now you climb, Up to the tower of bliss, only be wary And patient, thats all, if you Like my plot Built and dispatch, if not farewell, then not. Come then, away: 'tis meet, To escape those thorns, to put on winged feet. Exeunt. Thank you gentlemen. Yes: you shall, But gentlemen I must disarm you then, There are of mad men, as there are of tame, All humourd not alike: we have here some, So apish and phantastike, play with a feather, And though twould grieve a soul, to see Gods image, So blemished and defaced, yet do they act Such antic and such pretty lunacies, That spite of sorrow they will make you smile: Others again we have Like hungry Lions, Fierce as wild Bulls, untameable as flies, And these have oftentimes from strangers sides Snatched rapiers suddenly, and done much harm, Whom if yowl see, you must be weaponless. Here: take these weapons in, Stand of a little pray, so, so, 'tis well: I'll show you here a man that was sometime, A very graven and wealthy Citizen, Has served a prenticeship to this misfortune, Been here seven years, and dwelled in Bergamo. By lose at Sea: I'll stand aside, question him you alone, For if he spy me, heel not speak a word, Unless he's thoroughly vexed. Discovers and old man, wrapped in a Net. Oh, do not vex him pray. Why how now Syrra, must I fallen to tame you? I'll whip you, if you grow unruly thus. Well, well; be quiet and you shall have meat. They must be used Like children, pleased with toys, And anon whipped for their unruliness: I'll show you now a pair quite different From him thats gone; he was all words: and these Unless you urge em, seldom spend their speech, But save their tongues-la you-this hithermost Fell from the happy quietness of mind, About a maiden that he loud, and died: He followed her to church, being full of tears, And as her body went into the ground, He fell stark mad. That is a married man, Was jealous of a fair, but (as some say) A very virtuous wife, and that spoiled him. How now you villains, bring me whips: isle whip you Take em in both: bury him, for he's dead. How now huswife, whither gad you? As yet I know not, She came but in this day, talks little idly And therefore has the freedom of the house, Why, what are they? come: tell me, what are they? Nay, nay, away, you must not trouble Friars. The duke is here speak nothing. I'll lock you up if you're unruly fie Well then be brief, but if you are thus unruly, I'll have you locked up fast. Take him in there.