_Fer._ These meats are poisoned, hang The Cooks; no note more on Forfeit of your fingers; do you Envie me a minutes slumber, what are these? _1 Gu._ The Ladies appointed by your Majesty. _Fer._ To the purpose, for what appointed? _1 Gu._ For your graces pleasure. _Fer._ To suck away the little blood is left me, By my continual cares; I am not apt now, Injoy them first, taste of my Diet once; And your turns serv'd, for fifty Crowns apiece Their Husbands may redeem them. _Wo._ Great Sir, mercy. _Fer._ I am deaf, why stare you? is what we command To be disputed, who's this? bring you the dead T' upbraid me to my face? _Cast._ Hold Emperor; Hold mightiest of Kings, I am thy vassal, Thy footstool that durst not presume to look On thy offended face. _Fer. Castruchio_ rise. _Cast._ Let not the lightning of thy eie consume me, Nor hear that musical tongue, in dreadful thunder, That speaks all mercy. _Vil._ Here's no flattering rogue. _Cast. Ferrand_, that is the Father of his people, The glory of mankind. _Fer._ No more, no word more; And while [I] tell my troubles to my self, Be Statues without motion [or] voice, Though to be flatter'd is an itch to greatness, It now offends me. _Vil._ Here's the happy man; But speak who dares. _Fer._ When I was innocent; I yet remember I could eat and sleep, Walk unaffrighted, but now terrible to others: My guards cannot keep fear from me It still pursues me; Oh! my wounded conscience, The Bed I would rest in, is stuft with thorns; The grounds strew'd o'r with adders, and with aspicks Where e'r I set my foot, but I am in, And what was got with cruelty, with blood, Must be defended, though this life's a hell, I fear a worse hereafter. Ha! _Enter_ Ronvere _and Guard._ _Ron._ My Lord. _Fer._ Welcome _Ronvere_, welcome my golden plummet With which I sound mine enemies depths and angers, Hast thou discover'd? _Ron._ Al[l] as you could wish Sir, The Plot, and the contrivers; was made one Of the conspiracie. _Fer._ Is _Virolet_ in? _Ron._ The head of all, he only scented me: And from his fear, that I plaid false is fled; The rest I have in fetters. _Fer._ Death and Hell. Next to my mortal foe the pirate _Sesse_, I aim'd at him; he's virtuous, and wise, A lover of his freedom and his Countries Dangerous to such as govern by the sword, And so to me: no tract which way he went, No means to overtake him? _Ron._ There's some hope left; But with a rough hand, to be seiz'd upon. _Fer._ What is't? _Ron._ If any know, or where he is, Or which way he is fled, it is his wife; Her with his Father I have apprehended, And brought among the rest.