_Mar._ That very minute His Fathers breath forsook him, that same instant, A rare example of his piety, And love paternal, the Organ of his tongue Was never heard to sound again; so near death He seeks to wait upon his worthy Father, But that we force his meat, he were one body. _Rug._ He points to'th' Tomb. _Mar._ That is the place he honours, A house I fear he will not be long out of. He will to th' Tomb, good my Lord lend your hand; Now sing the Funeral Song, and let him kneel, For then he is pleas'd. [_A Song._ _Rug._ Heaven lend thy powerfull hand, And ease this Prince. _Mar._ He will pass back again. [_Exeunt._ _Enter_ Valerio. _Val._ They drink abundantly, I am hot with wine too, Lustily warm, I'le steal now to my happiness, 'Tis midnight, and the silent hour invites me, But she is up still, and attends the Queen; Thou dew of wine and sleep hang on their eye-lids, Steep their dull senses in the healths they drink, That I may quickly find my lov'd _Evanthe_. The King is merry too, and drank unto me, Sign of fair peace, O this nights blessedness! If I had forty heads I would give all for 't. Is not the end of our ambitions, Of all our humane studies, and our travels, Of our desires, the obtaining of our wishes? Certain it is, and there man makes his Center. I have obtain'd _Evanthe_, I have married her, Can any fortune keep me from injoying her? _Enter_ Sorano. I have my wish, what's left me to accuse now? I am friends with all the world, but thy base malice; Go glory in thy mischiefs thou proud man, And cry it to the world thou hast ruin'd vertue; How I contemn thee and thy petty malice! And with what scorn, I look down on thy practice! _Sor._ You'l sing me a new Song anon _Valerio_, And wish these hot words-- _Val._ I despise thee fellow, Thy threats, or flatteries, all I fling behind me; I have my end, I have thy noble Sister, A name too worthy of thy blood; I have married her, And will injoy her too. _Sor._ 'Tis very likely. _Val._ And that short moneth I have to bless me with her I'le make an age, I'le reckon each embrace A year of pleasure, and each night a Jubile, Every quick kiss a Spring; and when I mean To lose my self in all delightfulness, Twenty sweet Summers I will tye together In spight of thee, and thy malignant Master: I will dye old in love, though young in pleasure. _Sor._ But that I [h]ate thee deadly, I could pity thee, Thou art the poorest miserable thing This day on earth; I'le tell thee why _Valerio_, All thou esteemest, and build'st upon for happiness, For joy, for pleasure, for delight is past thee, And like a wanton dream already vanisht. _Val._ Is my love false?