_Alber._ I, then I was man of flesh and blood, Now I am made up of fire, to the full height Of a deadly Calenture; O these vild women That are so ill preservers of mens honors, They cannot govern their own honesties. That I should thirty and odd winters feed My expectation of a noble heir, And by a womans falshood find him now A fiction, a mere dream of what he was; And yet I love him still. _Pros._ In my opinion The sentence (on this tryall) from the Duke Was noble, to repair _Cesario's_ loss With the marriage of your wife, had you been dead. _Alber._ By your favor but it was not, I conceive T'was disparagement to my name, to have my widdow Match with a Faulkeiners son, and yet beli've't I love the youth still, and much pitty him. I do remember at my going to Sea, Upon a quarrel, and a hurt receiv'd From young _Mentivole_, my rage so far Oretopt my nobler temper, I gave charge To have his hand cut off, which since I heard, And to my comfort, brave _Cesario_, Worthyly prevented. _Pros._ And 'twas nobly done. _Albert_ Yet the revenge, for this intent of mine Hath bred much slaughter in our families, And yet my wife (which infinitely moans me) Intends to marry my sole heir _Clarissa_ To the head branch of the other faction. _Pros._ 'Tis the mean to work reconcilement. _Alber._ Between whom? _Pros._ Your self and the worthy _Baptista_. _Alber._ Never. _Pros._ O you have been of a noble and remarkable friendship, And by this match 'tis generally in _Florence_ Hop'd, 'twill fully be reconcil'd; to me 'Twould be absolute content. _Julia._ And to my self, I have main interest in it. _Alb._ Noble Sir, you may command my heart to break for you But never to bend that way; poor _Cesario_, When thou put'st on thy mournfull willow-garland, Thy enemy shall be suted (I do vow) In the same livery, my _Cesario_ Loved as my foster child, though not my Son, Which in some countryes formerly were barbarous, Was a name held most affectionate; thou art lost, Unfortunate young man, not only slighted Where thou received'st thy breeding, but since scorn'd I th' way of marriage, by the poor _Bianca_ The In-keepers daughter. _Pros._ I have heard of that too; But let not that afflict you: for this Lady May happily deliver at more leasure A circumstance may draw a fair event, Better than you can hope for. For this present we must leave you, And shall visit you again within these two hours. ----_Enter Cesario._ _Albert._ Ever to me most welcome,----O my _Cesario_. _Cesar._ I am none of yours Sir, so 'tis protested; And I humbly beg, Since 'tis not in your power to preserve me Any longer in a noble course of life, Give me a worthy death. _Alber._ The youth is mad.