Ber. What would you haue? Hel. Something, and scarse so much: nothing indeed, I would not tell you what I would my Lord: Faith yes, Strangers and foes do sunder, and not kisse Ber. I pray you stay not, but in hast to horse Hel. I shall not breake your bidding, good my Lord: Where are my other men? Monsieur, farwell. Exit Ber. Go thou toward home, where I wil neuer come, Whilst I can shake my sword, or heare the drumme: Away, and for our flight Par. Brauely, Coragio. Actus Tertius. Flourish. Enter the Duke of Florence, the two Frenchmen, with a troope of Souldiers. Duke. So that from point to point, now haue you heard The fundamentall reasons of this warre, Whose great decision hath much blood let forth And more thirsts after 1.Lord. Holy seemes the quarrell Vpon your Graces part: blacke and fearefull On the opposer Duke. Therefore we meruaile much our Cosin France Would in so iust a businesse, shut his bosome Against our borrowing prayers French E. Good my Lord, The reasons of our state I cannot yeelde, But like a common and an outward man, That the great figure of a Counsaile frames, By selfe vnable motion, therefore dare not Say what I thinke of it, since I haue found My selfe in my incertaine grounds to faile As often as I guest Duke. Be it his pleasure Fren.G. But I am sure the yonger of our nature, That surfet on their ease, will day by day Come heere for Physicke Duke. Welcome shall they bee: And all the honors that can flye from vs, Shall on them settle: you know your places well, When better fall, for your auailes they fell, To morrow to'th the field. Flourish. Enter Countesse and Clowne. Count. It hath happen'd all, as I would haue had it, saue that he comes not along with her Clo. By my troth I take my young Lord to be a verie melancholly man Count. By what obseruance I pray you Clo. Why he will looke vppon his boote, and sing: mend the Ruffe and sing, aske questions and sing, picke his teeth, and sing: I know a man that had this tricke of melancholy hold a goodly Mannor for a song Lad. Let me see what he writes, and when he meanes to come Clow. I haue no minde to Isbell since I was at Court. Our old Lings, and our Isbels a'th Country, are nothing like your old Ling and your Isbels a'th Court: the brains of my Cupid's knock'd out, and I beginne to loue, as an old man loues money, with no stomacke Lad. What haue we heere? Clo. In that you haue there. Exit A Letter.