PHIL. He must not, if I live; But yet her father brings him: he has the means That I shall ever want. CLER. If he do marry her, Revenge it nobly, make him a cuckold, boy. PHIL. Thou jest'st, that feel'st it not. Prythee, let's go. CLER. Stay, I'll but curse him briefly for thy sake. If thou dost marry her, may'st thou be made A cuckold without profit, and ne'er get An office by it, nor favour at the Court; But may thy large ill-gotten treasury Be spent in her bought lust, and thine own gold Bring thee adulterers; so, farewell, good count. [_Exeunt_ PHILOCLES _and_ CLERIMONT. _Enter_ SERVANT. SER. My lord, there's a messenger within Desires access, has business of import, Which to no ear but yours he must impart. _Enter_ EUGENIO, _disguised_. POL. Admit him. Now, friend, your business with me. SER. If you be the Lord Polymetes. POL. The same. EUG. My lord, I come from Athens with such news As I daresay is welcome, though unlook'd for; Your son Eugenio lives, whom you so long Thought dead, and mourn'd for. POL. How? lives! EUG. Upon my life, my lord, I saw him well Within these few days. POL. Thanks for thy good news. Reward him, Roscio. But now, tell me, friend, Hast thou reveal'd this news to any man In Syracuse but me? EUG. To none, my lord: At every place where I have stay'd in town, Inquiring for your lordship's house, I heard These tragic, but false, news; the contrary I still conceal'd, though knew, intending first Your lordship's ear should drink it. POL. Worthy friend, I now must thank your wisdom as your love, In this well-carried action; I'll requite it: Meantime, pray use my house, and still continue Your silence in this business. Roscio, make him welcome, And part as little from him as you can, for fear---- ROS. Think it done, my lord. POL. Leucothoë,[426] come hither. VIR. Be like yourself, let not a cruel doom Pass those fair lips, that never were ordain'd To kill, but to revive. LEU. Neither, my lord, lies in their power to do. VIR. Yes, sweet, to me, Whom your scorn kills, and pity will revive. LEU. Pity is show'd to men in misery. VIR. And so am I, if not reliev'd by you. LEU. 'Twere pride in me, my lord, to think it so. VIR. I am your beauty's captive. LEU. Then, my lord, What greater gift than freedom can I give? 'Tis that that captives most desire, and that You shall command: y' are free from me, my lord. VIR. Your beauty contradicts that freedom, lady. POL. Come, noble count, I must for this time interrupt you; you'll find enough within to talk. VIR. I'll wait upon your lordship. [_Exeunt._ _Manet_ EUGENIO _solus_.