HOR. No; that was it for which I chiefly strove, Nor stepp'd I back till I recover'd him. I took him up, and wound him in mine arms, And, wielding him unto my private tent, There laid him down and dew'd him with my tears, And sigh'd and sorrow'd as became a friend. But neither friendly sorrow, sighs and tears Could win pale Death from his usurped right. Yet this I did, and less I could not do: I saw him honour'd with due funeral. This scarf I pluck'd from off his lifeless arm, And wear it in remembrance of my friend. BEL. I know the scarf: would he had kept it still! For, had he liv'd, he would have kept it still, And worn it for his Bel-imperia's sake; For 'twas my favour at his last depart. But now wear thou it both for him and me; For, after him, thou hast deserv'd it best. But, for thy kindness in his life and death, Be sure, while Bel-imperia's life endures, She will be Don Horatio's thankful friend. HOR. And, madame, Don Horatio will not slack Humbly to serve fair Bel-imperia. But now, if your good liking stand thereto, I'll crave your pardon to go seek the prince; For so the duke, your father, gave me charge. Exit. BEL. Aye, go, Horatio; leave me here alone, For solitude best fits my cheerless mood.-- Yet what avails to wail Andreas death, From whence Horatio proves my second love? Had he not lov'd Andrea as he did, He could not sit in Bel-imperia's thoughts. But how can love find harbour in my breast, Till I revenge the death of my belov'd? Yes, second love shall further my revenge: I'll love Horatio, my Andrea's friend, The more to spite the prince that wrought his end; And, where Don Balthazar, that slew my love, Himself now pleads for favor at my hands, He shall, in rigour of my just disdain, Reap long repentance for his murderous deed,-- For what was't else but murderous cowardice, So many to oppress one valiant knight, Without respect of honour in the fight? And here he comes that murder'd my delight. Enter LORENZO and BALTHAZAR. LOR. Sister, what means this melancholy walk? BEL. That for a-while I wish no company. LOR. But here the prince is come to visit you. BEL. That argues that he lives in liberty. BAL. No madam, but in pleasing servitude. BEL. Your prison then, belike, is your conceit. BAL. Aye, by conceit my freedom is enthrall'd. BEL. Then with conceit enlarge yourself again. BAL. What if conceit have laid my heart to gage? BEL. Pay that you borrow'd, and recover it. BAL. I die if it return from whence it lies. BEL. A heartless man, and live? A miracle! BAL. Aye, lady, love can work such miracles. LOR. Tush, tush, my lord! let go these ambages, And in plain terms acquaint her with your love. BEL. What boots complaint, when there's no remedy?