Mer.  Fortune fights lowe when such triumphe on Earles.

[Exit.

(SCENE 3.)

    Enter Lassenbergh singing, Lucilia following;
    after the song he speakes.

Lass.  O wearie of the way and of my life, Where shall I rest my sorrow-tired[77] limmes!

Luc.  Rest in my bosome, rest you here, my Lord; A place securer you can no where finde.

Lass.  Nor more unfit for my displeased minde.  A heavie slumber calles me to the earth; Heere will I sleepe, if sleep will harbour heere.

Luc.  Unhealthful is the melancholic earth: 
O let my Lord rest on Lucilia’s lappe. 
Ile helpe to shield you from the searching ayre
And keepe the colde dampes from your gentle bloud.

Lass.  Pray thee, away; for, whilst thou art so neere, No sleepe will seaze on my suspicious eyes.

Luc.  Sleepe then, and I am pleazd far off to sit
Like to a poore and forlorne Sentinell,
Watching the unthankful sleepe that severs me
From my due part of rest deere love with thee.

She sits farre off from him.

    Enter Const.  Dutchesse with a willowe garland, cum aliis.

Con.  Now are we neere the court of Saxonie, Where the duke dreames such tragicall ostents.

Amb.  I wonder we, now treading on his soile, See none of his strange apparitions.

Kath.  We are not worthy of such meanes divine,
Nor hath heaven care of our poore lives like his. 
I must endure the end and show I live
Though this same plaintive wreathe doth show me forsaken. 
Come, let us foorth.

Const.  Stay, sister; what faire sight Sits mourning in this desolate abode?

Dut.  Faire sight indeed it is, and much to faire To sit so sad and solitarie there.

Con.  But what is he that cur-like sleepes alone?

Dut.  Look, is it not my Nephew Lassingbergh?

Amb.  Madame, ’tis hee.

Dut.  Ile sure learne more of this.—­
Lady, if strangers that [do] wish you well
May be so bould to aske, pray whats the cause
That you [so] more then strangely sit alone?

Luc.  Madam, thus must forsaken creatures sit Whose merits cannot make their loves consort them.

Dut.  What a poore fellow in my miserie!  Welcome, sweet partner, and of favour tell me, Is this some friend of yours that slumbers heere?

Luc.  My husband (madame) and my selfe his friend, But he of late unfriendly is to me.

Con.  Sister, lets wake her friend.

Dut.  No, let him sleepe;
And, gentle dame, if you will be rulde by me,
Ile teach you how to rule your friend in love: 
Nor doubt you our acquaintance, for the man
Whom you so much affect is friend to us.