_Val._ The tale of _Tantalus_ is now prov'd true, And from me shall be registred Authentick; To have my joyes within my arms, and lawfull, Mine own delights, yet dare not touch. Even as thou hatest me Brother, let no young man know this, As thou shalt hope for peace when thou most needest it, Peace in thy soul, desire the King to kill me, Make me a traitor, any thing, I'le yield to it, And give thee cause so I may dye immediately; Lock me in Prison where no Sun may see me, In walls so thick no hope may e're come at me; Keep me from meat, and drink, and sleep, I'le bless thee; Give me some damned potion to deliver me, That I may never know my self again, forget My Country, kindred, name and fortune; last, That my chaste love may never appear before me, This were some comfort. _Sor._ All I have I have brought ye, And much good may it do ye my dear Brother, See ye observe it well; you will find about ye Many eyes set, that shall o're-look your actions, If you transgress ye know, and so I leave ye. [_Exit._ _Val._ Heaven be not angry, and I have some hope yet. [_Exit._ _Enter_ Frederick, _and_ Sorano. _Fred._ Hast thou been with him? _Sor._ Yes, and given him that Sir Will make him curse his Birth; I told ye which way. Did you but see him Sir, but look upon him, With what a troubled and dejected nature He walks now in a mist, with what a silence, As if he were the shrowd he wrapt himself in, And no more of _Valerio_ but his shadow, He seeks obscurity to hide his thoughts in, You would wonder and admire for all you know it, His jollity is down, valed to the ground Sir, And his high hopes of full delights and pleasures Are turn'd tormenters to him, strong diseases. _Fred._ But is there hope of her? _Sor._ It must fall necessary, She must dislike him, quarrel with his person, For women once deluded are next Devils, And in the height of that opinion Sir, You shall put on again, and she must meet ye. _Fred._ I am glad of this. _Sor._ I'le tell ye all the circumstance Within this hour, but sure I heard your grace To day as I attended, make some stops, Some broken speech[e]s, and some sighs between, And then your Brothers name I heard distinctly, And some sad wishes after. _Fred._ Ye are i'th' right Sir, I would he were as sad as I could wish him, Sad as the Earth. _Sor._ Would ye have it so? _Fred._ Thou hearest me, Though he be sick with small hope of recovery, That hope still lives, and mens eyes live upon it, And in their eye their wishes; my _Sorano_, Were he but cold once in the tomb he dotes on, As 'tis the fittest place for melancholy, My Court should be another Paradise, And flow with all delights.