_Bap._ You must not be deny'd, Yet with all brevity I must report it; 'Tis true, fair _Juliana_ (_Genoua's_ pride) Enamour'd of my actions, lik'd my person; Nor could I but with joy meet her affection; Since it was lawful, for my first wife dead; We were closely married, and for some few months Tasted the fruits of't; but malicious fate, Envying our too much happiness, wrought upon A faithless servant, privy to our plot, And Cabinet-Counselor to _Juliana_, Who either for hope, or reward, or fear, Discover'd us to the incensed Duke: Whose rage made her close prisoner, and pronounc'd On me perpetual banishment: some three years I wander'd on the Seas, since entertain'd By the great Duke of _Florence_; but what fate Attended her? or _Prospero_ my friend, That staid at _Genoua_, to expect the issue, Is yet uncertain. _Enter a Gentleman._ _Alber._ From the Duke: _Bap._ He's welcome, to end my forc'd relation. _Alber._ Signior _Baptista_; The Great Dukes Will commands your present [e]are. _Gent._ It points indeed at both of you. _Bap._ I wait it. _Alber._ In _Mariana_, to your rest. _Bap._ Nay leave us, we must be private. _Maria._ Stay not long _Cesario_: [--_Exeunt Manet_ Cesario, Mentivole. _Mentivo._ So these old men vanish'd, 'tis allow'd That we may speak, and howsoe'r they take Delight in the discourse of former dangers, It cannot hinder us to treat a little Of present pleasures. _Cesario._ Which if well injoy'd, Will not alone continue, but increase In us their friendship. _Ment._ How shall we spend the night? To snore it out like drunken _Dutchmen_, would Sort ill with us _Italians_. We are made Of other metall, fiery, quick, and active; Shall we take our fortune? and while our cold fathers (In whom long since their youthful heats were dead,) Talk much of _Mars_, serve under _Venus_ Ensigns, And seek a Mistriss. _Cesar._ That's a game dear friend, That does admit no rival in chase of it. And either to be undertook alone, Or not to be attempted. _Ment._ I'll not press you; What other sports to entertain the time with The following morning? _Cesar._ Any that may become us. _Ment._ Is the _Neapolitan_ horse the Viceroy sent you, In a fit plight to run? _Cesar._ So my Groom tells me. I can boast little of my horsemanship; Yet upon his assurance, I dare wager A thousand Crowns, 'gainst any horse in _Florence_, For an eight mile course. _Ment._ I would not win of you, In respect you are impatient of loss: Else I durst match him with my _Barbary_ For twice the sum. _Cesar._ You do well to excuse it, being certain to be beaten. _Ment._ Tush. You know the contrary.