_Nic._ You will report a lye then; ha, ha, ha. My Lungs will not afford me wind enough To laugh my passions out. To gaine a Crowne, Who would not at a funerall laugh and sing? All men of wisedome would, and so will I: Yet to the worlds eye, I am drown’d in teares, And held most carefull of the King and State, When I meane nothing lesse. _Lorenzo’s_ dead: The scornefull Princesse, that refus’d my loue, Is going to her death. The King, I know, Cannot continue long: Then may I say, As our Italian heires at fathers deaths, _Quid Iude, Reine ta soll_. The King alone made mee the King: Me thinkes I feele the royall Diadem Vpon my head already; ha, ha, ha. _Exit._ _A dumbe shew._ _Enter two Mourners_, Atlanta _with the Axe_, Leonida _all in white, her haire loose, hung with ribans; supported on eyther side by two Ladies_, Aurelia _following as chiefe Mourner. Pase softly ouer the stage._ _A Song in parts._ _Whilst wee sing the dolefull knell Of this Princesse passing-bell, Let the Woods and Valleys ring Ecchoes to our sorrowing; And the Tenor of their Song, Be ding dong, ding, dong, dong, ding, dong, dong, ding, dong._ _Nature now shall boast no more, Of the riches of her Store, Since in this her chiefest prize, All the Stocke of beautie dies; Then, what cruell heart can long Forbeare to sing this sad ding dong? This sad ding dong, ding dong._ _Fawnes and Siluans of the Woods, Nimphes that haunt the Cristall flouds, Sauage Beasts more milder then The vnrelenting hearts of men, Be partakers of our mone, And with vs sing ding dong, ding dong, ding dong, dong, ding dong._ _Exeunt Omnes._ _Enter_ Misogynos, _and_ Swash. _Mis._ _Swash._ _Swa._ At your Buckler, Sir? _Mis._ Perceiu’st thou nothing, _Swash_? _Swa._ How meane you, Sir? _Mis._ No strange signe of alteration; hum. _Swa._ Beyond imagination. _Mis._ How, good _Swash_? _Swa._ Why, from a Fencer, you’re turn’d Orator. _Mis._ Oh! _Cedunt arma Togæ_; that’s no wonder. Perceiu’st thou nothing else? Looke I not pale? Are not my armes infolded? my eyes fixt, My head deiected, my words passionate, And yet perceiu’st thou nothing? _Swash._ Let me see, me thinkes, you looke Sir, like some Desperate Gamester, that had lost all his estate In a dicing House: you met not With those Money-changers, did you? Or haue you falne amongst the female Sex, And they haue paid you for your last dayes worke?