University of Virginia Library

SCENA. III.

Antonio, Delio, Eccho, (from the Dutchesse Graue.)
Del.
Yond's the Cardinall's window: This fortification
Grew from the ruines of an auncient Abbey:
And to yond side o'th' riuer, lies a wall
(Peece of a Cloyster) which in my opinion
Giues the best Eccho, that you euer heard;
So hollow, and so dismall, and withall
So plaine in the destinction of our words,
That many haue supposde it is a Spirit
That answeres.

Ant.
I doe loue these auncient ruynes:
We neuer tread vpon them, but we set
Our foote vpon some reuerend History,
And questionles, here in this open Court
(Which now lies naked to the iniuries
Of stormy weather) some men lye Enterr'd
Lou'd the Church so well, and gaue so largely to't,
They thought it should haue canopide their Bones
Till Doombes-day: But all things haue their end:
Churches, and Citties (which haue diseases like to men)
Must haue like death that we haue.

Eccho.
Like death that we haue.

Del.
Now the Eccho hath caught you:

Ant.
It groan'd (me thought) and gaue
A very deadly Accent?

Eccho.
Deadly Accent.

Del.
I told you 'twas a pretty one: You may make it
A Huntes-man, or a Faulconer, a Musitian,
Or a Thing of Sorrow.

Eccho.
A Thing of Sorrow.

Ant.
I sure: that suites it best.

Eccho.
That suites it best.

Ant.
'Tis very like my wiues voyce.

Eccho.
I, wifes-voyce.

Del.
Come: let's vs walke farther from't:
I Would not haue you go toth' Cardinalls to night:
Doe not.

Eccho.
Doe not.

Del.
Wisdome doth not more moderate, wasting Sorrow
Then time: take time for't: be mindfull of thy safety.

Eccho.
Be mindfull of thy safety.

Ant.
Necessitie compells me:
Make scruteny throughout the passes
Of your owne life; you'll find it impossible
To flye your fate.

Del.
Harke: the dead stones seeme to haue pitty on you
And giue you good counsell.

Ant.
Eccho, I will not talke with thee;
For thou art a dead Thing.

Eccho.
Thou art a dead Thing.

Ant.
My Dutchesse is asleepe now,
And her litle-Ones, I hope sweetly: oh Heauen
Shall I neuer see her more?

Eccho.
Neuer see her more:

Ant.
I mark'd not one repetition of the Eccho
But that: and on the sudden, a cleare light
Presented me a face folded in sorrow.

Del.
Your fancy; meerely.

Ant.
Come: I'll be out of this Ague;
For to liue thus, is not indeed to liue:
It is a mockery, and abuse of life,
I will not henceforth saue my selfe by halues,
Loose all, or nothing.

Del.
Your owne vertue saue you:
I'll fetch your eldest sonne; and second you:
It may be that the sight of his owne blood
Spred in so sweet a figure, may beget
The more compassion.
How euer, fare you well:
Though in our miseries, Fortune haue a part,
Yet, in our noble suffrings, she hath none,
Contempt of paine, that we may call our owne.

Exe.