 | The Sad One |  |
Scæn. 1.
Lorenzo,Parmenio attending.
All leave the chamber; if any come,
I'm busie. Parmenio, be nigher, nigher yet:
What dar'st thou do to make thy Master King,
Thy self a Favorite?
Par.
'Tis something blunt, my Lord, [Studies]
Why, I dare do—
That which I dare not speak.
Lor.
By all my hopes, spoke like the man I want!
'Twould be lost time to use much circumstance
To thee: shall we this night dispatch the King?
Par.
This minute, were he my Father;
He's not the first, nor shall he be the last.
Lor.
Soul of my soul! My better Angel sure
Foresaw my wants, and sent thee hither.
Parmenio, there's none but he
Stands 'twixt a Crown and me:
The Cloud that interpos'd betwixt my Hopes before,
Is like a Vapor faln, and seen no more.
8
The King has sent one Son to banishment,
And I have sent the Father.
Par.
How Sir!—You have not murdered him!
[Starts]
Lor.
Why?
Par.
Nothing my Lord, onely I'm sorry
I had no hand in't.
S'death, hath the villain killed him?
[Aside.]
Lor.
Oh thou art jealous,
Thy hand comes well enough; this night
I have determined that soon, ere
The Royal Bloods atilt, you shall to horse,
'Tis easie to out-ride—
Par.
Imagination it self, my Lord.
Lor.
For then report will say thou kildst him.
No matter—
Par.
Oh none at all my Lord.
Lor.
When I am King,
I can restore at ease.
Par.
True my Lord.
What if your Excellence cast out when I'm gone,
That Clarimonts yongest son did this, and took
His flight upon't. His discontent's known well enough
To make of a Suspition a most received Truth;
Besides, wheresoev'r I go, I'll swear 'twas he.
Lor.
By Jove most rare, when I am King I shall
Be poorer then I am, by giving thee
Thy due: Away, let's lose no time in words,
9
I'le to the King; thou to prepare for night,
Four hours hence wait me in the gallery.
Exeunt.
| The Sad One | |