+San.+ Why, nothing. In mercy to themselves, all other ladies Will keep your counsel. +Cle.+ But will you not boast it? +San.+ I'll be degraded first. +Cle.+ Well, I'm resolv'd. +San.+ But when, sweet madam? Name The moment. +Cle.+ Never: for now I weigh things better; The antidote 'gainst fear is innocence. +San.+ Will you delude my hopes then? Pity, madam, A heart that withers if denied this favour. +Cle.+ In pity I may be induced to much; And, since you urge compassion, I will meet. +San.+ Where, excellent madam? +Cle.+ I' th' sycamore-walk. +San.+ The minute! O, the minute! +Cle.+ An hour hence. +San.+ Felicity! fit for thy envy, Love! You will not fail now, madam? +Cle.+ To be such, As you shall count that hour your happiest. [_Exeunt._ _Enter +Browfildora+ and +Oniate+._ +Oni.+ This is a challenge! Prythee, my small friend, May not a man take th' height of my lord's spirit, Looking on thee? +Brow.+ Pray, sir, leave off your mirth, And write my lord your answer. +Oni.+ Little sir, I never learnt that pretty quality: I cannot write; only by word of mouth---- +Brow.+ Your place, sir? +Oni.+ The market-place. +Brow.+ 'Tis fantastic: and my lord will take it ill. Your weapons, sir. +Oni.+ Two English mastiffs, which Are yet but whelps, and not transported hither: So that the time will be, I know not when. +Brow.+ Your sport is dangerous. If my lord forgive you, I must resent th' affront as to myself, And will expect a most severe account. +Oni.+ Thou less, though[284] angrier, thing than wasp, farewell. [_Exeunt._ _Enter +Queen+ and +Ascanio+._ +Queen.+ I am inform'd, my lord, that you have business, And 'tis of moment? +Asc.+ Great as that of Nature's In her most mighty work, Creation. For to preserve from dissolution equals The gift of our first being. Not to hold Your majesty in riddles, 'tis to beg Your pardon for a soldier doom'd to die; Inevitably doom'd, unless your mercy Step between him and death. +Queen.+ My lord, we use T' examine well the fact for which he is To suffer, ere we pardon. There be crimes Of that black quality which often makes Mercy seem cruel. +Asc.+ That's the fear which frights Me to this paleness: sure, his crime is great; But fondly I, presuming on the service My fortune lately did you, gave my vow Ne'er to forsake your ear with earnest prayers, Till you had granted.