HAR. Master Pisaro, hear a dead man speak. Who sings the woful accents of his end. I do confess I love; then, let not love Prove the sad engine of my life's remove. Marina's rich possession was my bliss: Then in her loss all joy eclipsed is. As every plant takes virtue of the sun, So from her eyes this life and being sprung; But now, debarred of those clear-shining rays, Death for earth gapes, and earth to death obeys. Each word thou spak'st (O, speak not so again) Bore death's true image on the word engraven; Which as it flew, mix'd with heaven's airy breath, Summon'd the dreadful sessions of my death. I leave thee to thy wish, and may th' event Prove equal to thy hope and heart's content. Marina to that hap that happiest is! My body to the grave, my soul to bliss.-- Have I done well? [_Exit_ HARVEY. ANTH. Excellent well, in troth. PIS. Ay, go, ay, go: your words move me as much, As doth a stone being cast against the air, But soft, what light is that? What folks be those? O, 'tis Alvaro and his other friends, I'll down and let them in. [_Exit._ _Enter_ BELLMAN, FRISCO, VANDAL, DELION, _and_ ALVARO. FRIS. Where are we now, gaffer Butterick? BEL. Why, know you not Crutched Friars? where be your wits? ALV. What be this Croshe Friars? vedte padre dare; tack you dat; me sal troble you no far. BEL. I thank you, gentlemen, good night: Good night, Frisco. [_Exit_ BELLMAN. FRIS. Farewell, Butterick: what a clown it is. Come on, my masters, merrily: I'll knock at the door. ANTH. Who's there? Our three wise wooers? Blockhead our man? Had he not been, they might have hang'd themselves, For any wenches they had hit upon. Good morrow or good den,[538] I know not whether. DEL. Monsieur La Mouche, what mack you out de huis so late? _Enter_ PISARO _below_. PIS. What, what; young men and sluggards? fie for shame! You trifle time at home about vain toys, Whilst others in the meantime steal your brides. I tell you, sir, the English gentlemen Had well-nigh mated you and me, and all. The doors were open, and the girls abroad: Their sweethearts ready to receive them, too; And gone, forsooth, they had been, had not I (I think by revelation) stopp'd their flight. But I have coop'd them up, and so will keep them. But, sirrah Frisco, where's the man I sent for? Whose cloak have you got there? How now? Where's Vandal? FRIS. Forsooth, he is not here: Master Mendall, you mean, do you not? PIS. Why, loggerhead, him I sent for; where is he? Where hast thou been? How hast thou spent thy time? Did I not send thee to my son Vandal?