Otho.  By what is deere betwixt us, by our selves, I vow hencefoorth ten thousand deaths to prove Then be a hinderance to such vertuous love.

Con.  Breake heart, tis for thy sake.

Otho.  When I am dead O then forget that I haue injured.

Con.  O hell of love!

Otho.  Or rather hell of friends!

Con.  Firmely till they love.

Otho.  Then thus all friendship ends.

[Exeunt.

Actus Secundus.

[SCENE 1.]

Enter Duke, Fredericke, Hatto, and Alfred.

Hat.  Good brother, heare some Musicke, twill delight you.

Al.  Ile call the Actors, will you see a play?

Fre.  Or, gracious father, see me runne the race On a light footed horse, swifter then winde.

Duke.  I pray forbeare.

Al.  This moode will make you mad, For melancholy ushers franticke thoughts.

Hat.  It makes hot wreaking blood turne cold and drie, And drithe and coldnesse are the signes of death.

Duke.  You doe torment me.

Fred.  Is it anything That I have done, offends your grace?

Hat.  Or comes this hidden anger from my fault?

Alf.  Heres none but gladly would resigne his life To doe you pleasure, so please you to command.

Duke.  Ifaith you are too [sic] blame to vexe me thus.

Hat.  Then grounds this sorrow on your brothers death?

Fred.  Or rather on the glove I lately found.

Duke.  A plague upon the glove, whats that to me? 
Your prating makes me almost lunatike. 
As you respect my welfare, leave me leave me. 
The sooner you depart, the sooner I
Shall finde some meanes to cure my maladie.

Fred.  Our best course is to be obedient.

[Exeunt all but the Duke.

Duke.  Farewell. 
Was ever slave besotted like to me! 
That Kings have lov’d those that they never saw
Is nothing strange, since they have heard their praise;
Birds that by painted grapes have bin deceiv’d
Had yet some shadow to excuse their error;
Pigmalion that did love an Ivory Nimph
Had an Idea to delight his sence;
The youth that doted on Minerva’s[177] picture
Had some contentment for his eye; [soft Musique. 
But love, or rather an infernall hagge,
Envying Saxons greatnes and his joyes,
Hath given me nothing but a trifling glove,
As if by the proportion of the case
Art had the power to know the jewels nature. 
Or Nimph, or goddesse, woman, or faire devill,
If anything thou art, within my braine
Draw thine owne picture, let me see thy face: 
To doate thus grossely, is a grosse disgrace. [Musique within.