AMB. Ay, you may take my word for't. SPU. Old dad dead? I, one of his cast sins, will send the Fates Most hearty commendations by his own son; I'll tug in the new stream, till strength be done. LUS. Where be those two that did affirm to us, My lord the duke was privately rid forth? 1ST NOBLE. O, pardon us, my lords; he gave that charge-- Upon our lives, if he were miss'd at court, To answer so; he rode not anywhere; We left him private with that fellow here. VEN. Confirmed. [_Aside._ LUS. O heavens! that false charge was his death. Impudent beggars! durst you to our face Maintain such a false answer? Bear him straight To execution. 1ST NOBLE. My lord! LUS. Urge me no more. In this the excuse may be call'd half the murder. VEN. You've sentenc'd well. [_Aside._ LUS. Away; see it be done. VEN. Could you not stick? See what confession doth! Who would not lie, when men are hang'd for truth? [_Aside._ HIP. Brother, how happy is our vengeance! [_Aside._ VEN. Why, it hits past the apprehension of Indifferent wits. [_Aside._ LUS. My lord, let post-horses be sent Into all places to entrap the villain. VEN. Post-horses, ha, ha! [_Aside._ NOBLE. My lord, we're something bold to know our duty. Your father's accidentally departed; The titles that were due to him meet you. LUS. Meet me! I'm not at leisure, my good lord. I've many griefs to despatch out o' th' way. Welcome, sweet titles!-- [_Aside._ Talk to me, my lords, Of sepulchres and mighty emperors' bones; That's thought for me. VEN. So one may see by this How foreign markets go; Courtiers have feet o' th' nines, and tongues o' th' twelves; They flatter dukes, and dukes flatter themselves. [_Aside._ NOBLE. My lord, it is your shine must comfort us. LUS. Alas! I shine in tears, like the sun in April. NOBLE. You're now my lord's grace. LUS. My lord's grace! I perceive you'll have it so. NOBLE. 'Tis but your own. LUS. Then, heavens, give me grace to be so! VEN. He prays well for himself. [_Aside._ NOBLE. Madam, all sorrows Must run their circles into joys. No doubt but time Will make the murderer bring forth himself. VEN. He were an ass then, i' faith. [_Aside._ NOBLE. In the mean season, Let us bethink the latest funeral honours Due to the duke's cold body. And withal, Calling to memory our new happiness Speed[113] in his royal son: lords, gentlemen, Prepare for revels.