+De F.+ 'Twould not be worth my name, did it not strike Amazement through your souls, and leave a paleness On his cheek that hears it. But here, here I Could melt, transfuse my brains through my sad eyes, Till they wept blood, and dropp'd their jelly forth: She was a jewel too rich for our dull orb. _Enter more servants._ You need not multiply your fears; I am Too proud of my revenge to start from it: Let the law frown, and fall in tempests on me. Cowards repent, When valiant blood ne'er pales at the event. [_Exeunt._ ACTUS QUINTUS, SCENA PRIMA. _Enter +Pirez+ and +De Loome+._ +De L.+ A sad court indeed, my lord. +Pir.+ As sad a kingdom! Where the news is spread, men that hear it stand struck, as if their own passing-bells did call unto them. +De L.+ Kings' glasses are as brittle as their meanest subjects', their footings as slippery and uncertain. He was a brave prince, and his life will be memorable in Castile. +Pir.+ His death is much admired for the sudden strangeness of it. What opinion give the physicians on't? +De L.+ They've a hard name for't, if I could think on't. +Pir.+ Not suspicion of poison? +De L.+ How, my lord! by whom would you suspect it? +Pir.+ Nay, I dare suspect none, nor don't; but such quirks of state I have read of in the days of old. +De L.+ I never saw him discount a day with more content and freedom; his very thoughts were hearty. +Pir.+ 'Twas a fatal one, and will give a sad discourse to our posterity, and leave it on record in bleeding characters. +De L.+ The count's resolution had too much blood and cruelty in't. +Pir.+ Dessandro urged as much as mortal sense could groan with. +De L.+ I now call to mind, still as he spake and glanced upon Cleara's face, I had strange startlings in me. +Pir.+ As the times have. +De. L.+ The times, my lord? for what? +Pir.+ The king's death, sir. +De L.+ Why, my lord, the times are not of the worst presage, though that may cloud them a little. +Pir.+ I am no Booker, sir, nor Lilly to prognosticate what seven years may travail with; but I could wish the price of knaves may fall. +De L.+ Your lordship's virtues command not a more humble and observant creature. [_Exit._ +Pir.+ This fellow must be muzzled. _Enter +Sampayo+._ +Samp.+ Who's that? +Pir.+ The duke's thing, his trifle-broker. +Sano.+ The king's now. +Pir.+ Castile did never hear more news, I fear. +Samp.+ We shall now see the fine turns and games of the state. +Pir.+ When fools and knaves chase trump. +Samp.+ Now heads and points will be the sport. +Pir.+ The king will have the heads then, I believe. +Samp.+ Observe 'em. +Pir.+ So near?