MOUSE. How, rear the town? Even go yourself; it is more than I can do. Why, do you think I can rear a town that can scarce rear a pot of ale to my head? I should rear a town, should I not? SEGASTO. Go to the constable, and make a privy search; for the shepherd is run away with the King’s daughter. MOUSE. How? is the shepherd run away with the King’s daughter, or is the King’s daughter run away with the shepherd? SEGASTO. I cannot tell, but they are both gone together. MOUSE. What a fool is she to run away with the shepherd! Why, I think I am a little handsomer man than the shepherd, myself; but tell me, master, must I make a privy search, or search in the privy? SEGASTO. Why, dost thou think they will be there? MOUSE. I cannot tell. SEGASTO. Well, then search everywhere; leave no place unsearched for them. [_Exit._] MOUSE. Oh, now am I in office, now will I to that old firebrand’s house, and will not leave one place unsearched. Nay, I’ll to her ale-stand and drink as long as I can stand; and when I have done, I’ll let out all the rest, to see if he be not hid in the barrel; an I find him not there, I’ll to the cupboard; I’ll not leave one corner of her house unsearched. I’ faith, ye old crust, I will be with you now. [_Exit._] ACT IV SCENE I. Valencia. The Court Sound Music. Enter the King of Valencia, Anselmo, Roderigo, Lord Borachius, with others. KING OF VALENCIA. Enough of music, it but adds to torment, Delights to vexed spirits are as dates Set to a sickly man, which rather cloy than comfort; Let me entreat you to repeat no more. RODERIGO. Let your strings sleep, have done there. [_Music ceases._] KING OF VALENCIA. Mirth to a soul disturb’d are embers turn’d Which sudden gleam with molestation, But sooner lose their light for it. ’Tis gold bestow’d upon a rioter, Which not relieves but murders him; a drug Given to the healthful, which infects, not cures. How can a father that hath lost his son, A prince both virtuous, wise, and valiant, Take pleasure in the idle acts of time? No, no; till Mucedorus I shall see again, All joy is comfortless, all pleasure pain. ANSELMO. Your son, my lord, is well. KING OF VALENCIA. I prythee, speak that twice. ANSELMO. The prince, your son, is safe. KING OF VALENCIA. O where, Anselmo? Surfeit me with that! ANSELMO. In Aragon, my liege; And at his ’parture bound my secrecy, By his affection’s loss, not to disclose it. But care of him, and pity of your age, Makes my tongue blab what my breast vow’d—concealment. KING OF VALENCIA. Thou not deceivest me. I ever thought thee what I find thee now, An upright, loyal man. But what desire, or young-fed humour, nurs’d Within the brain, drew him so privately To Aragon? ANSELMO. A forcing adamant: Love, mix’d with fear and doubtful jealousy, Whether report gilded a worthless trunk, Or Amadine deserved her high extolment.