_And._ Ay, Lucio, having lost a son, a son, A country, house, crown, son. _O lares, miseri[144] lares!_ Which shall I first deplore? My son, my son, My dear sweet boy, my dear Antonio! 90 _Ant._ Antonio? _And._ Ay, echo, ay; I mean Antonio. _Ant._ Antonio, who means Antonio? _And._ Where art? what art? know'st thou Antonio? _Ant._ Yes. _And._ Lives he? _Ant._ No. _And._ Where lies he dead? _Ant._ Here. _And._ Where? _Ant._ Here.[145] _And._ Art thou Antonio? _Ant._ I think I am. _And._ Dost thou but think? What, dost not know thyself? _Ant._ He is a fool that thinks he knows himself. _And._ Upon thy faith to heaven, give thy name. 100 _Ant._ I were not worthy of Andrugio's blood, If I denied my name's Antonio. _And._ I were not worthy to be call'd thy father, If I denied my name Andrugio. And dost thou live? O, let me kiss thy cheek, And dew thy brow with trickling drops of joy. Now heaven's will be done: for I have lived To see my joy, my son Antonio. Give me thy hand; now fortune do thy worst, His blood, that lapp'd thy spirit in the womb, 110 Thus (in his love) will make his arms thy tomb. _Ant._ Bless not the body with your twining arms, Which is accurs'd of heaven. O, what black sin Hath been committed by our ancient house, Whose scalding vengeance lights upon our heads, That thus the world and fortune casts us out, As loathèd objects, ruin's branded slaves! _And._ Do not expostulate the heavens' will, But, O, remember to forget thyself; Forget remembrance what thou once hast been. 120 Come, creep with me from out this open air: Even trees have tongues, and will betray our life. I am a-raising of our house, my boy, Which fortune will not envy, 'tis so mean, And like the world (all dirt): there shalt thou rip The inwards of thy fortunes in mine ears, While I sit weeping, blind with passion's tears. Then I'll begin, and we'll such order keep, That one shall still tell griefs, the other weep. [_Exeunt_ ANDRUGIO _and_ LUCIO, _leaving_ ANTONIO _and the_ Page. _Ant_. I'll follow you. Boy, prithee stay a little. 130 Thou hast had a good voice, if this cold marsh Wherein we lurk have not corrupted it. _Enter_ MELLIDA, _standing out of sight, in her Page's suit_.