_Cast._ This in few words, Sir, Your Brother's dead, this morning he deceased, I was your servant, and I wept not, Sir, I knew 'twas for your good. _Fred._ It shall be for thine too, Captain, indeed it shall. O my _Sorano_, Now we shall live. _Sor._ I, now there's none to trouble ye. _Fred._ Captain, bring out the woman, and give way To any Suitor that shall come to marry her, Of what degree soever. _Cast._ It shall be done, Sir. [_Exit_ Cast. _Fre._ O let me have a lusty Banquet after it, _Enter_ Evanthe, Camillo, Cleanthes, Menallo, _Fool._ I will be high and merry. _Sor._ There be some Lords That I could counsel ye to fling from Court, Sir, They pry into our actions, they are such The foolish people call their Countries honours, Honest brave things, and stile them with such Titles, As if they were the patterns of the Kingdom, Which makes them proud, and prone to look into us, And talk at random of our actions, They should be lovers of your commands, And followers of your will; bridles and curbs To the hard headed Commons that malign us, They come here to do honour to my Sister, To laugh at your severity, and fright us; If they had power, what would these men do? Do you hear, Sir, how privily they whisper? _Fred._ I shall silence 'em, And to their shames within this week _Sorano_, In the mean time have patience. _Sor._ How they jeer, and look upon me as I were a Monster! And talk and jeer! how I shall pull your plumes, Lords How I shall humble ye within these two daies! Your great names, nor your Country cannot save ye. _Fred._ Let in the Suitors. Yet submit, I'le pardon ye, You are half undone already, do not wind My anger to that height, it may consume ye, _Enter Lawyer, Physician, Captain, Cut-purse._ And utterly destroy thee, fair _Evanthe_: yet I have mercy. _Evan._ Use it to your bawds, To me use cruelty, it best becomes ye, And shews more Kingly: I contemn your mercy, It is a cozening, and a bawdy mercy; Can any thing be hoped for, to relieve me? Or is it fit? I thank you for a pity, when you have kill'd my Lord. _Fred._ Who will have her? _Evan._ My tears are gone, My tears of love to my dear _Valerio_, But I have fill'd mine eyes again with anger; O were it but so powerful to consume ye. My tongue with curses I have arm'd against ye, With Maiden curses, that Heaven crowns with horrors, My heart set round with hate against thy tyranny; O would my hands could hold the fire of Heaven, Wrapt in the thunder that the Gods revenge with, That like stern Justice I might fling it on thee; Thou art a King of Monsters, not of men, And shortly thou wilt turn this Land to Devils. _Fred._ I'le make you one first, and a wretched Devil, Come who will have her?