Evan. Is our fair love, our honest, our entire,
Come to this hazard?
Val. 'Tis a noble one, and I am much in love with malice for it,
Envy could not have studied me a way,
Nor fortune pointed out a path to Honour,
Straighter and nobler, if she had her eyes;
When I have once enjoy'd my sweet Evanthe,
And blest my Youth with her most dear embraces,
I have done my journey here, my day is out,
All that the World has else is foolery,
Labour, and loss of time; what should I live for?
Think but mans life a Month, and we are happy.
I would not have my joys grow old for any thing;
A Paradise, as thou art, my Evanthe,
Is only made to wonder at a little,
Enough for human eyes, and then to wander from.
Come, do not weep, sweet, you dishonour me,
Your tears and griefs but question my ability,
Whether I dare dye; Do you love intirely?
Evan. You know I do.
Val. Then grudge not my felicity.
Evan. I'll to the Queen.
Val. Do any thing that's honest,
But if you sue to him, in Death I hate you. [Exeunt.
Enter Camillo, Cleanthes, and Menallo.
Cam. Was there ever heard of such a Marriage?
Men. Marriage and Hanging go by destiny,
'Tis the old Proverb, now they come together.
Cle. But a Month married, then to lose his life for't?
I would have a long Month sure, that pays the Souldiers.
Enter Tony with Urinal.
Cam. Or get all the Almanacks burnt, that were a rare trick,
And have no Month remembred. How now Tony?
Whose water are you casting?
Tony. A sick Gentlemans,
Is very sick, much troubled with the Stone,
He should not live above a Month, by his Urine,
About St. David's Day it will go hard with him,
He will then be troubled with a pain in his Neck too.
Men. A pestilent fool; when wilt thou marry, Tony?
Ton. When I mean to be hang'd, & 'tis the surer contract.
Cle. What think you of this Marriage of Valerio's?
Tony. They have given him a hot Custard, and mean to
burn his mouth with it; had I known he had been given to
dye honourably, I would have helpt him to a Wench, a rare
one, should have kill'd him in three weeks, and sav'd the
sentence.
Cam. There be them would have spared ten days of that too.
Tony. It may be so, you have Women of all Vertues:
There be some Guns that I could bring him too,
Some mortar-pieces that are plac'd i'th' Suburbs,
Would tear him into quarters in two hours,
There be also of the race of the old Cockatrices,
That would dispatch him with once looking on him.
Men. What Month wouldst thou chuse, Tony, if thou
hadst the like Fortune?
Tony. I would chuse a mull'd sack-month, to comfort my
Belly, for sure my Back would ake for't, and at the months
end I would be most dismally drunk, & scorn the gallows.
Me. I would chuse March, for I would come in like a Lion.
To. But you'd go out like a Lamb when you went to hanging.
Ca. I would take April, take the sweet o'th' year,
And kiss my Wench upon the tender flowrets,
Tumble on every Green, and as the Birds sung,
Embrace, and melt away my Soul in pleasure.
Tony. You would go a Maying gayly to the Gallows.
Cle. Prithee tell us some news.
Tony. I'll tell ye all I know,
You may be honest, and poor fools, as I am,
And blow your fingers ends.
Cam. That's no news, Fool.
Tony. You may be knaves then when you please, stark knaves,
And build fair houses, but your heirs shall have none of 'em.
Men. These are undoubted.
Tony. Truth is not worth the hearing,
I'll tell you news then; There was a drunken Saylor,
That got a Mermaid with child as she went a milking,
And now she sues him in the Bawdy-Court for it,
The infant-Monster is brought up in Fish-Street.
Cam. I, this is something.
Tony. I'll tell you more, there was a Fish taken,
A monstrous Fish, with a sword by his side, a long sword,
A Pike in's Neck, and a Gun in's Nose, a huge Gun,
And letters of Mart in's mouth, from the Duke of Florence.
Cle. This is a monstrous lye.
Tony. I do confess it:
Do you think I would tell you truths, that dare not hear 'em?
You are honest things, we Courtiers scorn to converse with. [Exit.
Cam. A plaguey fool: but let's consider, Gentlemen,
Why the Queen strives not to oppose this sentence,
The Kingdoms honour suffers in this cruelty.
Men. No doubt the Queen, though she be vertuous,
Winks at the Marriage, for by that only means
The Kings flame lessens to the youthful Lady,
If not goes out; within this Month, I doubt not,
She hopes to rock asleep his anger also;
Shall we go see the preparation?
'Tis time, for strangers come to view the wonder.
Cam. Come, let's away, send my friends happier weddings.
[Exeunt.
Enter Queen and Evanthe.
Queen. You shall be merry, come, I'll have it so,
Can there be any nature so unnoble?
Or anger so inhumane to pursue this?
Evan. I fear there is.
Queen. Your fears are poor and foolish,
Though he be hasty, and his anger death,
His will like torrents, not to be resisted,
Yet Law and Justice go along to guide him;
And what Law, or what Justice can he find
To justifie his Will? what Act or Statute,
By Humane, or Divine establishment,
Left to direct us, that makes Marriage death?
Honest fair Wedlock? 'twas given for encrease,
For preservation of Mankind I take it;
He must be more than man then that dare break it.
Come, dress ye handsomely, you shall have my jewels,
And put a face on that contemns base fortune,
'Twill make him more insult to see you fearful,
Outlook his anger.
Evan. O my Valerio!
Be witness my pure mind, 'tis thee I grieve for.
Queen. But shew it not, I would so crucifie him
With an innocent neglect of what he can do,
A brave strong pious scorn, that I would shake him;
Put all the wanton Cupids in thine eyes,
And all the graces on that nature gave thee,
Make up thy beauty to that height of excellence,
I'll help thee, and forgive thee, as if Venus
Were now again to catch the god of War,
In his most rugged anger, when thou hast him,
(As 'tis impossible he should resist thee)
And kneeling at thy conquering feet for mercy,
Then shew thy Vertue, then again despise him,
And all his power, then with a look of honour
Mingled with noble chastity, strike him dead.
Evan. Good Madam dress me,
You arm me bravely.
Queen. Make him know his cruelty
Begins with him first, he must suffer for it,
And that thy sentence is so welcome to thee,
And to thy noble Lord, you long to meet it.
Stamp such a deep impression of thy Beauty
Into his soul, and of thy worthiness,
That when Valerio and Evanthe sleep
In one rich earth, hung round about with blessings,
He may run mad, and curse his act; be lusty,
I'll teach thee how to dye too, if thou fear'st it.
Ev. I thank your Grace, you have prepar'd me strongly,
And my weak mind.
Queen. Death is unwelcome never,
Unless it be to tortur'd minds and sick souls,
That make their own Hells; 'tis such a benefit
When it comes crown'd with honour, shews so sweet too!
Though they paint it ugly, that's but to restrain us,
For every living thing would love it else,
Fly boldly to their peace ere Nature call'd 'em;
The Rest we have from labour, and from trouble
Is some Incitement, every thing alike,
The poor Slave that lies private has his liberty,
As amply as his Master, in that Tomb
The Earth as light upon him, and the flowers
That grow about him, smell as sweet, and flourish.
But when we love with honour to our ends,
When Memory and Vertue are our Mourners;
What pleasure's there! they are infinite, Evanthe;
Only, my vertuous Wench, we want our senses,
That benefit we are barr'd, 'twould make us proud else,
And lazy to look up to happier life,
The Blessings of the people would so swell us.
Evan. Good Madam, dress me, you have drest my soul,
The merriest Bride I'll be for all this misery,
The proudest to some Eyes too.
Queen. 'Twill do better, come, shrink no more.
Evan. I am too confident. [Exeunt.
Enter Frederick, and Sorano.
Sor. You are too remiss and wanton in your angers,
You mold things handsomely; and then neglect 'em;
A powerful Prince should be constant to his power still,
And hold up what he builds, then People fear him:
When he lets loose his hand it shews a weakness,
And men examine or contemn his greatness:
A scorn of this high kind should have call'd up
A revenge equal, not a pity in you.
Fred. She is thy Sister.
Sor. And she were my Mother,
Whilst I conceive 'tis you she has wrong'd, I hate her,
And shake her nearness off; I study, Sir,
To satisfie your angers that are just,
Before your pleasures.
Fred. I have done that already,
I fear has pull'd too many curses on me.
Sor. Curses or envies, on Valerio's head,
Would you take my counsel, Sir, they should all light,
And with the weight not only crack his scull,
But his fair credit; the exquisite vexation
I have devis'd, so please you give way in't,
And let it work, shall more afflict his soul,
And trench upon that honour that he brags of,
Than fear of Death in all the frights he carries;
If you sit down here they will both abuse ye,
Laugh at your poor relenting power, and scorn ye.
What satisfaction can their deaths bring to you,
That are prepar'd, and proud to dye, and willingly,
And at their ends will thank you for that honour?
How are you nearer the desire you aim at?
Or if it be revenge your anger covets,
How can their single deaths give you content, Sir?
Petty revenges end in blood, sleight angers,
A Princes rage should find out new diseases,
Death were a pleasure too, to pay proud fools with.
Fred. What should I do?
Sor. Add but your power unto me,
Make me but strong by your protection,
And you shall see what joy, and what delight,
What infinite pleasure this poor Month shall yield him.
I'll make him wish he were dead on his Marriage-day,
Or bed-rid with old age, I'll make him curse,
And cry and curse, give me but power.
Fred. You have it,
Here, take my Ring, I am content he pay for't.
Sor. It shall be now revenge, as I will handle it,
He shall live after this to beg his life too,
Twenty to one by this thread, as I'll weave it,
Evanthe shall be yours.
Fred. Take all authority, and be most happy.
Sor. Good Sir, no more pity. [Exeunt.
Enter Tony, three Citizens, and three Wives.
1 Wife. Good Master Tony, put me in.
Tony. Where do you dwell?
1 Wife. Forsooth, at the sign of the great Shoulder of Mutton.
Ton. A hungry man would hunt your house out instantly,
Keep the Dogs from your door; Is this Lettice Ruff your
Husband? a fine sharp sallet to your sign.
2 Wife. Will you put me in too?
3 Wife. And me, good Master Tony.
Tony. Put ye all in? you had best come twenty more; you
Think 'tis easie, a trick of legerdemain, to put ye all in,
'Twould pose a fellow that had twice my body,
Though it were all made into chines and fillets.
2 Wi. Put's into th' wedding, Sir, we would fain see that.
1 Wife. And the brave Masque too.
To. You two are pretty women, are you their husbands?
2 Citiz. Yes, for want of better.
Tony. I think so too, you would not be so mad else
To turn 'em loose to a company of young Courtiers,
That swarm like Bees in May, when they see young wenches;
You must not squeak.
3 Wife. No Sir, we are better tutor'd.
Tony. Nor if a young Lord offer you the courtesie—
2 Wife. We know what 'tis, Sir.
Tony. Nor you must not grumble,
If you be thrust up hard, we thrust most furiously.
1 Wife. We know the worst.
Tony. Get you two in then quietly,
And shift for your selves; we must have no old women,
They are out of use, unless they have petitions,
Besides they cough so loud they drown the Musick.
You would go in too, but there is no place for ye?
I am sorry for't, go and forget your wives,
Or pray they may be able to suffer patiently.
You may have Heirs may prove wise Aldermen,
Go, or I'le call the Guard.
3 Citi. We will get in, we'l venture broken pates else.
[Ex. Citiz. and Women.
Tony. 'Tis impossible,
You are too securely arm'd; how they flock hither,
And with what joy the women run by heaps
To see this Marriage! they tickle to think of it,
They hope for every month a husband too;
Still how they run, and how the wittals follow 'em,
The weak things that are worn between the leggs,
That brushing, dressing, nor new naps can mend,
How they post to see their own confusion!
This is a merry world.
Enter Frederick.
Fred. Look to the door Sirrah,
Thou art a fool, and may'st do mischief lawfully.
Tony. Give me your hand, you are my Brother fool,
You may both make the Law, and marr it presently.
Do you love a wench?
Fred. Who does not, fool?
Tony. Not I, unless you will give me a longer lease to marry her.
Fred. What are all these that come, what business have they?
Tony. Some come to gape, those are my fellow fools;
Some to get home their wives, those be their own fools;
Some to rejoyce with thee, those be the times fools;
And some I fear to curse thee, those are poor fools,
Enter Cassand[ra], an old Lady passing over.
A set people call them honest. Look, look King, look,
A weather-beaten Lady new caresn'd.
Fred. An old one.
Tony. The glasses of her eyes are new rub'd over,
And the worm-eaten records in her face are daub'd up neatly?
She layes her breasts out too, like to poch'd eggs
That had the yelks suckt out; they get new heads also,
New teeth, new tongues, for the old are all worn out,
And as 'tis hop'd, new tayls.
Fred. For what?
Tony. For old Courtiers,
The young ones are too stirring for their travels.
Fred. Go leave your knavery, and help to keep the door well,
I will have no such press.
Tony. Lay thy hand o'thy heart King.
Fred. I'le have ye whipt.
Tony. The fool and thou art parted. [Exit.
Fred. Sorano work, and free me from this spell,
'Twixt love and scorn there's nothing felt but hell. [Exit.
Enter Valerio, Camillo, Cleanthes, Menallo,
and Servants.
Val. Tye on my Scarf, you are so long about me,
Good my Lords help, give me my other Cloak,
That Hat and Feather, Lord what a Taylor's this,
To make me up thus straight! one sigh would burst me,
I have not room to breath, come button, button,
Button, apace.
Cam. I am glad to see you merry Sir.
Val. 'Twould make you merry had you such a wife,
And such an age to injoy her in.
Men. An age Sir?
Val. A moneth's an age to him that is contented,
What should I seek for more? give me my sword.
Ha my good Lords, that every one of you now
Had but a Lady of that youth and beauty
To bless your selves this night with, would ye not?
Pray ye speak uprightly.
Cle. We confess ye happy,
And we could well wish such another Banquet,
But on that price my Lord—
Val. 'Twere nothing else,
No man can ever come to aim at Heaven,
But by the knowledge of a Hell. These shooes are heavy,
And if I should be call'd to dance they'l clog me,
Get me some pumps; I'le tell ye brave Camillo,
And you dear friends, the King has honour'd me,
Out of his gracious favour has much honour'd me,
To limit me my time, for who would live long?
Who would be old? 'tis such a weariness,
Such a disease, that hangs like lead upon us.
As it increases, so vexations,
Griefs of the minde, pains of the feeble body,
Rheums, coughs, catarrhs, we are but our living coffins;
Besides, the fair soul's old too, it grows covetous,
Which shews all honour is departed from us,
And we are Earth again.
Cle. You make fair use Sir.
Val. I would not live to learn to lye Cleanthes
For all the world, old men are prone to that too;
Thou that hast been a Souldier, Menallo,
A noble Souldier, and defied all danger,
Adopted thy brave arm the heir to victory,
Would'st thou live so long till thy strength forsook thee?
Till thou grew'st only a long tedious story
Of what thou hadst been? till thy sword hang by,
And lazie Spiders fill'd the hilt with cobwebs?
Men. No sure, I would not.
Val. 'Tis not fit ye should,
To dye a young man is to be an Angel,
Our great good parts put wings unto our souls:
We'l have a rouse before we go to bed friends,
Pray ye tell me, is't a hansome Mask we have?
Cam. We understand so.
Val. And the young gent. dance?
Cle. They do Sir, and some dance well.
Val. They must before the Ladies,
We'l have a rouse before we go to bed friends,
A lusty one, 'twill make my blood dance too. [Musick.
Cam. Ten if you please.
Val. And we'l be wondrous merry,
They stay sure, come, I hear the Musick forward,
You shall have all Gloves presently. [Exit.
Men. We attend Sir, but first we must look to th'
Doors. [Knocking within.
The King has charged us. [Exeunt.
Enter two Servants.
1 Ser. What a noise do you keep there? call my fellows
O' the Guard; you must cease now untill the King be
Enter'd, he is gone to th' Temple now.
2 Serv. Look to that back door, and keep it fast,
They swarm like Bees about it.
Enter Camillo, Cleanthes, Menallo, Tony following.
Cam. Keep back those Citizens, and let their wives in,
Their handsome wives.
Tony. They have crowded me to Verjuyce,
I sweat like a Butter-box.
1 Serv. Stand further off there.
Men. Take the women aside, and talk with 'em in private,
Give 'em that they came for.
Tony. The whole Court cannot do it;
Besides, the next Mask if we use 'em so,
They'l come by millions to expect our largess;
We have broke a hundred heads.
Cle. Are they so tender?
Ton. But 'twas behind, before they have all murrions.
Cam. Let in those Ladies, make 'em room for shame there.
Ton. They are no Ladies, there's one bald before 'em,
A gent. bald, they are curtail'd queans in hired clothes,
They come out of Spain I think, they are very sultry.
Men. Keep 'em in breath for an Embassadour.
[Knocks within.
Me thinks my nose shakes at their memories,
What bounsing's that?
Within. I am one of the Musick Sir.
Within. I have sweat-meats for the banquet.
Cam. Let 'em in.
Ton. They lye my Lord, they come to seek their wives,
Two broken Citizens.
Cam. Break 'em more, they are but brusled yet.
Bold Rascals, offer to disturb your wives?
Cle. Lock the doors fast, the Musick, hark, the King comes.
A Curtain drawn.
The King, Queen, Valerio, Evanthe, Ladies, Attendants,
Camillo, Cleanthes, Sorano, Menallo.
A Mask.
Cupid descends, the Graces sitting by him, Cupid being
bound the Graces unbind him, he speaks.
Cup. Unbind me, my delight, this night is mine,
Now let me look upon what Stars here shine,
Let me behold the beauties, then clap high
My cullor'd wings, proud of my Deity;
I am satisfied, bind me again, and fast,
My angry Bow will make too great a wast
Of beauty else, now call my Maskers in,
Call with a Song, and let the sports begin;
Call all my servants the effects of love,
And to a measure let them nobly move.
Come you servants of proud love,
Come away:
Fairly, nobly, gently move.
Too long, too long you make us stay;
Fancy, Desire, Delight, Hope, Fear,
Distrust and Jealousie, be you too here;
Consuming Care, and raging Ire,
And Poverty in poor attire,
March fairly in, and last Despair;
Now full Musick strike the Air.
Enter the Maskers, Fancy, Desire, Delight, Hope, Fear,
Distrust, Jealousie, Care, Ire, Despair, they dance, after
which Cupid speaks.
Cup. Away, I have done, the day begins to light,
Lovers, you know your fate, good night, good night.
Cupid and the Graces ascend in the Chariot.
King. Come to the Banquet, when that's ended Sir,
I'le see you i' bed, and so good night; be merry,
You have a sweet bed-fellow.
Val. I thank your Grace,
And ever shall be bound unto your nobleness.
King. I pray I may deserve your thanks, set forward.
[Exeunt.
Enter divers Monks, Alphonso going to the Tomb,
Rugio, and Frier Marco, discover the Tomb and a Chair.
Mar. The night grows on, lead softly to the Tomb,
And sing not till I bid ye; let the Musick
Play gently as he passes.
Rug. O fair picture,
That wert the living hope of all our honours;
How are we banisht from the joy we dreamt of!
Will he ne're speak more?
Mar. 'Tis full three moneths Lord Rugio,
Since any articulate sound came from his tongue,
Set him down gently. [Sits in a Chair.
Rug. What should the reason be Sir?
Mar. As 'tis in nature with those loving Husbands,
That sympathize their wives pains, and their throes
When they are breeding, and 'tis usuall too,
We have it by experience; so in him Sir,
In this most noble spirit that now suffers;
For when his honour'd Father good Brandino
Fell sick, he felt the griefs, and labour'd with them,
His fits and his disease he still inherited,
Grew the same thing, and had not nature check'd him,
Strength, and ability, he had dyed that hour too.
Rug. Embleme of noble love!
Mar. That very minute
His Fathers breath forsook him, that same instant,
A rare example of his piety,
And love paternal, the Organ of his tongue
Was never heard to sound again; so near death
He seeks to wait upon his worthy Father,
But that we force his meat, he were one body.
Rug. He points to'th' Tomb.
Mar. That is the place he honours,
A house I fear he will not be long out of.
He will to th' Tomb, good my Lord lend your hand;
Now sing the Funeral Song, and let him kneel,
For then he is pleas'd. [A Song.
Rug. Heaven lend thy powerfull hand,
And ease this Prince.
Mar. He will pass back again. [Exeunt.
Enter Valerio.
Val. They drink abundantly, I am hot with wine too,
Lustily warm, I'le steal now to my happiness,
'Tis midnight, and the silent hour invites me,
But she is up still, and attends the Queen;
Thou dew of wine and sleep hang on their eye-lids,
Steep their dull senses in the healths they drink,
That I may quickly find my lov'd Evanthe.
The King is merry too, and drank unto me,
Sign of fair peace, O this nights blessedness!
If I had forty heads I would give all for 't.
Is not the end of our ambitions,
Of all our humane studies, and our travels,
Of our desires, the obtaining of our wishes?
Certain it is, and there man makes his Center.
I have obtain'd Evanthe, I have married her,
Can any fortune keep me from injoying her?
Enter Sorano.
I have my wish, what's left me to accuse now?
I am friends with all the world, but thy base malice;
Go glory in thy mischiefs thou proud man,
And cry it to the world thou hast ruin'd vertue;
How I contemn thee and thy petty malice!
And with what scorn, I look down on thy practice!
Sor. You'l sing me a new Song anon Valerio,
And wish these hot words—
Val. I despise thee fellow,
Thy threats, or flatteries, all I fling behind me;
I have my end, I have thy noble Sister,
A name too worthy of thy blood; I have married her,
And will injoy her too.
Sor. 'Tis very likely.
Val. And that short moneth I have to bless me with her
I'le make an age, I'le reckon each embrace
A year of pleasure, and each night a Jubile,
Every quick kiss a Spring; and when I mean
To lose my self in all delightfulness,
Twenty sweet Summers I will tye together
In spight of thee, and thy malignant Master:
I will dye old in love, though young in pleasure.
Sor. But that I [h]ate thee deadly, I could pity thee,
Thou art the poorest miserable thing
This day on earth; I'le tell thee why Valerio,
All thou esteemest, and build'st upon for happiness,
For joy, for pleasure, for delight is past thee,
And like a wanton dream already vanisht.
Val. Is my love false?
Sor. No, she is constant to thee,
Constant to all thy misery she shall be,
And curse thee too.
Val. Is my strong body weakn'd,
Charm'd, or abus'd with subtle drink? speak villain.
Sor. Neither, I dare speak, thou art still as lusty
As when thou lov'dst her first, as strong and hopefull,
The month thou hast given thee is a month of misery,
And where thou think'st each hour shall yield a pleasure,
Look for a killing pain, for thou shalt find it
Before thou dyest, each minute shall prepare it,
And ring so many knels to sad afflictions;
The King has given thee a long month to dye in,
And miserably dye.
Val. Undo thy Riddle,
I am prepar'd what ever fate shall follow.
Sor. Dost thou see this Ring?
Val. I know it too.
Sor. Then mark me,
By vertue of this Ring this I pronounce to thee,
'Tis the Kings will.
Val. Let me know it suddenly.
Sor. If thou dost offer to touch Evanthes body
Beyond a kiss, though thou art married to her,
And lawfully as thou think'st may'st injoy her,
That minute she shall dye.
Val. O Devil—
Sor. If thou discover this command unto her,
Or to a friend that shall importune thee,
And why thou abstainest, and from whose will, ye all perish,
Upon the self-same forfeit: are ye fitted Sir?
Now if ye love her, ye may preserve her life still,
If not, you know the worst, how falls your month out?
Val. This tyranny could never be invented
But in the school of Hell, Earth is too innocent;
Not to injoy her when she is my wife?
When she is willing too?
Sor. She is most willing,
And will run mad to miss; but if you hit her,
Be sure you hit her home, and kill her with it;
There are such women that will dye with pleasure:
The Axe will follow else, that will not fail
To fetch her Maiden head, and dispatch her quickly;
Then shall the world know you are the cause of Murther,
And as 'tis requisite your life shall pay for't.
Val. Thou dost but jest, thou canst not be so monstrous
As thou proclaim'st thy self; thou art her Brother,
And there must be a feeling heart within thee
Of her afflictions; wert thou a stranger to us,
And bred amongst wild rocks, thy nature wild too,
Affection in thee as thy breeding, cold,
And unrelenting as the rocks that nourisht thee,
Yet thou must shake to tell me this; they tremble
When the rude sea threatens divorce amongst 'em,
They that are senceless things shake at a tempest;
Thou art a man—
Sor. Be thou too then, 'twill try thee,
And patience now will best become thy nobleness.
Val. Invent some other torment to afflict me,
All, if thou please, put all afflictions on me,
Study thy brains out for 'em, so this be none
I care not of what nature, nor what cruelty,
Nor of what length.
Sor. This is enough to vex ye.
Val. The tale of Tantalus is now prov'd true,
And from me shall be registred Authentick;
To have my joyes within my arms, and lawfull,
Mine own delights, yet dare not touch.
Even as thou hatest me Brother, let no young man know this,
As thou shalt hope for peace when thou most needest it,
Peace in thy soul, desire the King to kill me,
Make me a traitor, any thing, I'le yield to it,
And give thee cause so I may dye immediately;
Lock me in Prison where no Sun may see me,
In walls so thick no hope may e're come at me;
Keep me from meat, and drink, and sleep, I'le bless thee;
Give me some damned potion to deliver me,
That I may never know my self again, forget
My Country, kindred, name and fortune; last,
That my chaste love may never appear before me,
This were some comfort.
Sor. All I have I have brought ye,
And much good may it do ye my dear Brother,
See ye observe it well; you will find about ye
Many eyes set, that shall o're-look your actions,
If you transgress ye know, and so I leave ye. [Exit.
Val. Heaven be not angry, and I have some hope yet. [Exit.
Enter Frederick, and Sorano.