3D NOBLE. 'Tis oracle, my lord. [_Exeunt._ _Enter_ VENDICE _and_ HIPPOLITO. VENDICE _out of_ _his disguise._ HIP. So, so, all's as it should be, y' are yourself. VEN. How that great villain puts me to my shifts! HIP. He that did lately in disguise reject thee, Shall, now thou art thyself, as much respect thee. VEN. 'Twill be the quainter fallacy. But, brother, 'Sfoot, what use will he put me to now, think'st thou? HIP. Nay, you must pardon me in that: I know not. H' has some employment for you: but what 'tis, He and his secretary (the devil) know best. VEN. Well, I must suit my tongue to his desires, What colour soe'er they be; hoping at last To pile up all my wishes on his breast. HIP. Faith, brother, he himself shows the way. VEN. Now the duke is dead, the realm is clad in clay. His death being not yet known, under his name The people still are govern'd. Well, thou his son Art not long-liv'd: thou shalt not joy his death; To kill thee, then, I should most honour thee; For 'twould stand firm in every man's belief, Thou'st a kind child, and only died'st with grief. HIP. You fetch about well; but let's talk in present. How will you appear in fashion different, As well as in apparel, to make all things possible? If you be but once tripp'd, we fall for ever. It is not the least policy to be double; You must change tongue: familiar was your first. VEN. Why, I'll bear me in some strain of melancholy, And string myself with heavy-sounding wire, Like such an instrument, that speaks merry things sadly. HIP. That is as I meant; I gave you out at first in discontent. VEN. I'll tune myself, and then------ HIP. 'Sfoot, here he comes. Hast thought upon't? VEN. Salute him; fear not me. _Enter_ LUSURIOSO. LUS. Hippolito! HIP. Your lordship------ LUS. What's he yonder? HIP. 'Tis Vendice, my discontented brother, Whom, 'cording to your will, I've brought to court. LUS. Is that thy brother? Beshrew me, a good presence; I wonder h' has been from the court so long. Come nearer. HIP. Brother! Lord Lusurioso, the duke's son. LUS. Be more to us; welcome; nearer yet. VEN. How don you? gi'[81] you good den. [_Snatches off his hat, and makes legs to him._ LUS. We thank thee. How strangely such a coarse homely salute Shows in the palace, where we greet in fire-- Nimble and desperate tongues: should we name God in a salutation, 'twould ne'er be stood on,[82] heaven! Tell me, what has made thee so melancholy? VEN. Why, going to law. LUS. Why, will that make a man melancholy?