_Bert._ If that you want power, sir, Lip-comfort cannot cure me. Pray you, leave me To mine own private thoughts. [_Walks by._ _Ast._ [_comes forward._] My valiant nephew! And my more than warlike ward! I am glad to see you, After your glorious conquests. Are these chains Rewards for your good service? if they are, You should wear them on your necks, since they are massy, Like aldermen of the war. _Ant._ You jeer us too! _Gasp._ Good uncle, name not, as you are a man of honour, That fatal word of war; the very sound of it Is more dreadful than a cannon. _Ant._ But redeem us From this captivity, and I'll vow hereafter Never to wear a sword, or cut my meat With a knife that has an edge or point; I'll starve first. _Ast._ Well, have more wit hereafter: for this time You are ransom'd. _Jac._ Off with their irons! _Rod._ Do, do: If you are ours again, you know your price. _Ant._ Pray you, despatch us: I shall ne'er believe I am a free man, till I set my foot In Sicily again, and drink Palermo, And in Palermo too. _Ast._ The wind sits fair; You shall aboard to-night: with the rising sun You may touch upon the coast. But take your leaves Of the late general first. _Gasp._ I will be brief. _Ant._ And I. My lord, Heaven keep you! _Gasp._ Yours, to use In the way of peace; but as your soldiers, never. _Ant._ A pox of war! no more of war. [_Exeunt_ ROD. JAC. ANT. _and_ GASP. _Bert._ Have you Authority to loose their bonds, yet leave The brother of your king, whose worth disdains Comparison with such as these, in irons? If ransom may redeem them, I have lands, A patrimony of mine own, assign'd me By my deceased sire, to satisfy Whate'er can be demanded for my freedom. _Ast._ I wish you had, sir; but the king, who yields No reason for his will, in his displeasure Hath seized on all you had; nor will Gonzaga, Whose prisoner now you are, accept of less Than fifty thousand crowns. _Bert._ I find it now, That misery never comes alone. But, grant The king is yet inexorable, time May work him to a feeling of my sufferings. I have friends that swore their lives and fortunes were At my devotion, and, among the rest, Yourself, my lord, when forfeited to the law For a foul murder, and in cold blood done, I made your life my gift, and reconciled you To this incensed king, and got your pardon. --Beware ingratitude! I know you are rich, And may pay down the sum. _Ast._ I might, my lord; But pardon me.