BAL. 'Tis of thy beauty, then, that conquers kings, Of those thy tresses, Ariadne's twines, Wherewith my liberty thou hast surpris'd, Of that thine ivory front, my sorrow's map, Wherein I see no hav'n to rest my hope. BEL. To love and fear, and both at once, my lord, In my conceit, are things of more import Then women's wit are to be busied with. BAL. 'Tis I that love. BEL. Whom? BAL. Bel-imperia. BEL. But I that fear. BAL. Whom? BEL. Bel-imperia. LOR. Fear yourself? BEL. Aye, brother. LOR. How? BEL. As those That, when they love, are loath and fear to lose. BAL. Then, fair, let Balthazar your keeper be. BEL. No, Balthazar doth fear as well as we; Et tremulo metui pavidum junxere timorem, Est vanum stolidae proditionis opus. Exit. LOR. Nay, and you argue things so cunningly, We'll go continue this discourse at court. BAL. Led by the loadstar of her heav'nly looks, Wends poor oppressed Balthazar, As o'er the mountains walks the wanderer Incertain to effect his pilgrimage. Exeunt. [ACT III. SCENE 11.] [A street.] Enter two PORTINGALES, and HIERONIMO meets them. I PORT. By your leave, sir. HIERO. Good leave have you; nay, I pray you go, For I'll leave you, if you can leave me so. II PORT. Pray you, which is the next way to my lord the duke's? HIERO. The next way from me. I PORT. To the house, we mean. HIERO. O hard by; 'tis yon house that you see. II PORT. You could not tell us if his son were there? HIERO. Who? my lord Lorenzo? I PORT. Aye, sir. He goeth in at one door and comes out at another.