_Rol._ He talks, 'tis true; he is licens'd: leave him, We now are Duke alone, _Latorch_, secur'd; Nothing left standing to obscure our prospect, We look right forth, beside, and round about us, And see it ours with pleasure: only one Wish'd joy there wants to make us to possess it, And that is _Edith_, _Edith_, she that got me In blood and tears, in such an opposite minute, As had I not at once felt all the flames And shafts of Love shot in me (his whole armory) I should have thought him as far off as Death. _Lat._ My Lord, expect a while, your happiness Is nearer than you think it, yet her griefs Are green and fresh, your vigilant _Latorch_ Hath not been idle; I have leave already To visit her, and send to her. _Rol._ My life. _Lat._ And if I find not out as speedy ways, And proper instruments to work and bring her To your fruition; that she be not watch'd Tame to your Highness wish, say you have no servant Is capable of such a trust about you, Or worthy to be Secretary of your pleasure. _Rol._ Oh my _Latorch_, what shall I render thee For all thy travels, care, and love? _Lat._ Sir, one suit, which I will ever importune, till you grant me. _Rol._ About your Mathematicians? _Lat._ Yes, to have The Scheme of your Nativity judg'd by them, I have't already erected; O my Lord, You do not know the labour of my fears, My doubts for you are such as cannot hope Any security, but from the Stars; Who, being rightly ask'd, can tell man more Than all power else, there being no power beyond them. _Rol._ All thy petitions still are care of us, Ask for thy self. _Lat._ What more can concern me, than this? _Rol._ Well, rise true honest man, and go then, We'l study our selves a means how to reward thee. _Lat._ Your grace is now inspir'd; now, now your highness Begins to live, from this hour count your joyes: But, Sir, I must have warrants, with blanks figur'd, To put in names, such as I like. _Rol._ You shall. _Lat._ They dare not else offer, Sir, at your figure? Oh I shall bring you wonders; there's a Frier _Rusee_, an admirable man, another A Gentleman, and then _Lafiske_, The mirrour of his time; 'twas he that set it. But there's one _Norbret_, (him I never saw) Has made a mirrour, a meer Looking-glass, In shew you'ld think't no other; the form oval, As I am given to understand by letter, Which renders you such shapes, and those so differing, And some that will be question'd and give answers; Then has he set it in a frame, that wrought Unto the revolutions of the Stars, And so compact by due proportions Unto their harmony, doth move alone A true automaton; thus _Dædalus_ Statues, Or _Vulcans_ Tools-- _Rol._ Dost thou believe this?