BAL. Both well and ill; it makes me glad and sad: Glad, that I know the hinderer of my loue; Sad, that I fear she hates me whome I loue; Glad, that I know on whome to be reueng'd; Sad, that sheele flie me if I take reuenge. Yet must I take reuenge or dye my-selfe; For loue resisted growes impatient. I think Horatio be my destind plague: First, in his hand he brandished a sword, And with that sword he fiercely waged warre, And in that warre he gaue me dangerous wounds, And by those wounds he forced me to yeeld, And by my yeelding I became his slaue; Now, in his mouth he carries pleasing words, Which pleasing wordes doe harbour sweet conceits, Which sweet conceits are lim'd with slie deceits, Which slie deceits smooth Bel-imperias eares, And through her eares diue downe into her hart, And in her hart set him, where I should stand. Thus hath he tane my body by force, And now by sleight would captiuate my soule; But in his fall Ile tempt the Destinies, And either loose my life or winne my loue. LOR. Lets goe, my lord; [our] staying staies reuenge. Doe but follow me, and gaine your loue; Her fauour must be wonne by his remooue. Exeunt. [ACT II. SCENE 2.] [The Duke's Castle] Enter HORATIO and BEL-IMPERIA. HOR. Now, madame, since by fauour of your love Our hidden smoke is turnd to open flame, And that with lookes and words we feed our thought,-- Two chiefe contents where more cannot be had,-- Thus in the midst of loues faire blandeshments Why shew you signe of inward languishments? PEDRINGANO sheweth all to the PRINCE and LORENZO, placing them in secret. BEL. My hart, sweet freend, is like a ship at sea: She wisheth port, where, riding all at ease, She may repaire what stormie times haue worne, And, leaning on the shore, may sing with ioy That pleasure followes paine, and blisse annoy. Possession of thy loue is th' onely port Wherein my hart, with feares and hopes long tost, Each howre doth wish and long to make resort, There to repaire the ioyes that it hath lost, And, sitting safe, to sing in Cupids quire That sweetest blisse is crowne of loues desire. BALTHAZAR, aboue. BAL. O sleepe, mine eyes; see not my loue prophande! Be deafe, my ears; heare not my discontent! Dye, hart; another ioyes what thou deseruest! LOR. Watch still, mine eyes, to see this loue disioyned! Heare still, mine eares, to heare them both lament! Liue, hart, to ioy at fond Horatios fall! BEL. Why stands Horatio speecheles all this while? HOR. The lesse I speak, the more I meditate. BEL. But whereon doost thou cheifely meditate? HOR. On dangers past and pleasures to ensue. BAL. On pleasures past and dangers to ensue! BEL. What dangers and what pleasures doost thou mean?