+De F.+ My fears did prompt me so. For ever! There's horror and amazement in the thought. See, Cleara, my eyes can overtake thee. Gone at so short a farewell, friend? Death, Thou art the murderer of all our joys and hopes. +Cle.+ Sir, Dessandro's well, very well; we parted Even but now. +De F.+ What! +Cle.+ O brother, I have lost a jewel that he gave me; I shall vex my eyes out. +De F.+ Beshrew this serious folly; you have vex'd my Blood into a sullen fit. +Cle.+ You shall not chide me; Tell me, didst ever in thy life meet with a grief That made thy poor heart sick, and did divide Thy sleeps and hours into groans and sighs? +De F.+ Never, [I] thank my indifferent fate. +Cle.+ Nor in the legend of some injur'd maid, That made thine eye to pause, and with a tear Bedew it? +De F.+ I cannot untie riddled knots, Cleara. +Cle.+ Come, I'll but dry mine eyes, and tell you a story, That shall deserve a groan. [_Exeunt._ ACTUS TERTIUS. SCENA PRIMA. _Enter +De Castro+ and +Dessandro+._ +Des.+ Tush! they had only tongue And malice; and that great zeal they Seem'd to owe to Rome was unto themselves And their own estates. What were they but wranglers In schools and law? and studied words to make men Guilty. They liv'd at ease; and slept in purples and Warm furs; but bold-minded Catiline threat'ned Their wise sleeps. +De C.+ There was too much attempt and fact in't. +Des.+ 'Twas fact then to look sour on a gownman: They were mere citizens, jealous of their wives And daughters--that condemn'd 'em too! De Castro, there's a lethargy in our blood: We sleep and dream away our lives. If such Wore purple for well-talking, what shall he merit, That cures the wounds and smart his country groans with? +De C.+ The people shall enshrine his name with reverence; And fill their temples with his statues. 'Tis The great end we are all born to. +Des.+ Which can't be, whilst by-respect shall closely Wound the bosom of our laws and freedom: For what was't less, that took our father's life? +De C.+ In whose blow the heads of all brave men were Threat'ned. +Des.+ Then, if we dare not do a general good, Yet let us secure our own dear lives and honours. +De C.+ The State is full of dangerous whispers. +Des.+ There's an imposthume swells it. +De C.+ Wou'd 'twere lanc'd!