 | The Vnnatvrall Combat |  |
Scæna secunda.
Theocrine, Page, Women.Theoc.
Talke not of comfort, I am both wayes wretched,
And so distracted with my doubts and feares,
I know not where to fix my hopes. My losse
Is certaine in a father, or a brother,
Or both, such is the crueltie of my fate,
And not to be avoyded.
1. Wom.
You must beare it
With patience, Madam.
2. Wom.
And what's not in you
To be prevented, should not cause a sorrow
Which cannot help it.
Page,
Feare not my brave Lord
Your noble father; fighting is to him
Familiar as eating. He can teach
Our moderne Duellists how to cleave a button,
And in a new way, never yet found out
By old Caranza.
1. Wom.
May he be victorious,
And punish disobedience in his sonne,
Whose death in reason should at no part move you,
He being but halfe your brother, and the neernesse,
Which that might challenge from you, forfeited
By his impious purpose to kill him, from whom
He receiv'd life.
A shout within.
A generall shout:
1. Wom.
Of joy.
Page.
Looke up deare Lady, sad newes never came
Usherd with loud applause.
Enter Vsher.
Theo.
I stand prepard,
To indure the shocke of it.
Ush.
I am out of breath
With running to deliver first.
Theo.
What?
Vsh.
Wee are all made,
My Lord has wont the day, your brother's slaine,
The pirats gone, and by the governour,
And states, and all the men of war he is
Brought home in triumph, nay no musing, pay me
For my good newes hereafter.
Thio.
Heaven is just!
Ush.
Give thankes at leasure, make all hast to meete him
I coulde wish I were a horse that I might beare you
To him upon my backe.
Page.
Thou art an asse,
And this is a sweete burthen.
Vsh.
Peace you crackrope.
Exeunt.
| The Vnnatvrall Combat | |