_Maria._ O, thou art merciful; O gracious devil, Rather by much let me condemnèd be For seeming murder than be damn'd for thee! I'll mourn no more; come, girt my brows with flowers: Revel and dance, soul, now thy wish thou hast; Die like a bride, poor heart, thou shalt die chaste. _Enter_ AURELIA _in mourning habit_. Life[564] is a frost of cold felicity,-- _Aur._ And death the thaw of all our vanity: Was't not an honest priest that wrote so? 90 _Men._ Who let her in? _Bil._ Forbear! _Pre._ Forbear! _Aur._ Alas, calamity is everywhere: Sad misery, despite your double doors, Will enter even in court. _Bil._ Peace! _Aur._I ha' done.[565] _Bil._ One word,--take heed! _Aur._ I ha' done. _Enter_ MERCURY _with loud music_. _Mer._ Cyllenian Mercury, the god of ghosts, From gloomy shades that spread the lower coasts,[566] Calls four high-famèd Genoan[567] dukes to come, 100 And make this presence their Elysium, To pass away this high triumphal night With song and dances, court's more soft delight. _Aur._ Are you god of ghosts? I have a suit pending in hell betwixt me and my conscience; I would fain have thee help me to an advocate. _Bil._ Mercury shall be your lawyer, lady. _Aur._ Nay, faith, Mercury has too good a face to be a right lawyer. _Pre._ Peace, forbear! Mercury presents the mask. 110 _Cornets: the song to the cornets, which playing, the mask enters_; MALEVOLE, PIETRO, FERNEZE, _and_ CELSO, _in white robes, with dukes' crowns upon laurel-wreaths, pistolets and short swords under their robes_. _Men._ Celso, Celso, court[568] Maria for our love.-- Lady, be gracious, yet grace. _Maria._ With me, sir? [MALEVOLE _takes_ MARIA _to dance_. _Mal._ Yes, more lovèd than my breath; With you I'll dance. _Maria._ Why, then, you dance with death. But, come, sir, I was ne'er more apt for[569] mirth. Death gives eternity a glorious breath: O, to die honour'd, who would fear to die? _Mal._ They die in fear who live in villainy. _Men._ Yes, believe him, lady, and be rul'd by him. _Pietro._ Madam, with me. [PIETRO _takes_ AURELIA _to dance_. _Aur._ Wouldst, then, be miserable? 120 _Pietro._ I need not wish. _Aur._ O, yet forbear my hand! away! fly! fly! O, seek not her that only seeks to die! _Pietro._ Poor lovèd soul! _Aur._ What, wouldst court misery? _Pietro._ Yes. _Aur._ She'll come too soon:--O my grievèd heart! _Pietro._ Lady, ha' done, ha' done: Come,[570] let us dance; be once from sorrow free. _Aur._ Art a sad man? _Pietro._ Yes, sweet. _Aur._ Then we'll agree. 128