_Duke._ Sure some great business drew you. _Sham._ No insooth, Sir, Only to come to see a brother dye, Sir, That I may learn to go too; and if he deceive me not, I think he will do well in't of a soldier, Manly, and honestly: and if he weep then, I shall not think the worse on's manhood for't, Because he's leaving of that part that has it. _Duke._ Has slain a noble Gentleman, think on't, Sir. _Sham._ I would I could not, Sir. _Duke._ Our kinsman too. _Sham._ All this is but worse, Sir. _Duke._ When 'tis at worst, Yet seeing thee, he lives. _Sham._ My Lord-- _Duke._ He lives, Believe it as thy bliss, he dies not for't: Will this make satisfaction for things past? _Sham._ Oh my Lord-- _Duke._ Will it? speak. _Sham._ With greater shame to my unworthiness. _Duke._ Rise then, we're even: I never found it harder To keep just with a man: my great work's ended. I knew your brother's pardon was your suit, Sir. How ever your nice modesty held it back. _Sham._ I take a joy now, to confess it, Sir. _Enter 1 Gent._ _1 Gent._ My Lord-- _Duke._ Hear me first, Sir, what e'er your news be: Set free the Soldier instantly. _1 Gent._ 'Tis done, my Lord. _Duke._ How? _1 Gent._ In effect: 'twas part of my news too, There's fair hope of your noble kinsman's life, Sir. _Duke._ What sayst thou? _1 Gent._ And the most admired change That living flesh e'r had; he's not the man my Lord; Death cannot be more free from passions, Sir, Than he is at this instant: he's so meek now, He makes those seem passionate, was never thought of: And for he fears his moods have oft disturb'd you, Sir, He's only hasty now for his forgiveness, And here behold him, Sir. _Enter Passion, the_ Cupid, _and two Brothers_. _Duke._ Let me give thanks first: our worthy Cosin-- _Pas._ Your unworthy trouble, Sir; For which, with all acknowledg'd reverence, I ask your pardon; and for injury More known and wilful, I have chose a wife, Without your counsel, or consent, my Lord. _Duke._ A wife? where is she, Sir? _Pas._ This noble Gentlewoman. _Duke._ How? _Pas._ Whose honor my forgetful times much wrong'd. _Duke._ He's madder than he was. _1 Gent._ I would ha' sworn for him. _Duke._ The _Cupid_, Cosin? _Pas._ Yes, this worthy Lady, Sir. _Duke._ Still worse and worse. _1 Bro._ Our Sister under pardon, my Lord. _Duke._ What? _2 Bro._ Which shape Love taught her to assume. _Duke._ Is't truth then? _1 Gent._ It appears plainly now, below the waste, my Lord. _Duke. Shamont_, didst ever read of a She-_Cupid_? _Sham._ Never in fiction yet: but it might hold, Sir; For desire is of both Genders. _Enter the Dukes Sister._