_Gon._ What! twice admonish'd, twice again offending, And, now grown blushless? You promis'd to get into Her chamber, she to get a priest: Indeed she wish'd me tell you she confess'd it: 680 And there, despite all father's jealous fears, To consummate full joys. Know, sir, our daughter Is our daughter, and has wit at will To gull a thousand easy things like you. But, sir, depart: the parliament prepar'd, Shall on without you: all the court this night Shall triumph that our daughter has escaped Her honour's blowing up: your end you see We speak but short but full, Socratice. [_Exeunt all but_ HERCULES _and_ TIBERIO. _Tib._ What should I think, what hope, what but imagine 690 Of these enigmas?[271] _Herc._ Sure, sir, the lady loves you With violent passion, and this night prepares A priest with nuptial rites, to entertain you In her most private chamber. _Tib._ This I know, With too much torture, since means are all unknown To come unto these ends. Where's this her chamber? Then what means shall without suspicion Convey me to her chamber? O these doubts End in despair---- _Enter_ GONZAGO _hastily_. _Gon._ Sir, sir, this plane-tree was not planted here 700 To get into my daughter's chamber, and so she pray'd me tell you. What though the main arms spread into her window, And easy labour climbs it, sir, know She has a voice to speak, and bid you welcome With so full breast that both your ears shall hear on't, And so she pray'd me tell you. Ha' we no brain! Youth thinks that age, age knows that youth is vain. [_Exit._ _Tib._ Why, now I have it, Fawn,--the way, the means, and meaning. Good duke, and 'twere not for pity, I could laugh at thee. Dulcimel, I am thine most miraculously; I will now begin to sigh, read poets, look pale, go neatly, and be most apparently in love; as for---- 713 _Herc._ As for your old father---- _Tib._ Alas! he and all know, this an old saw hath bin, Faith's breach for love and kingdoms is no sin. [_Exit._ _Herc._ Where are we now, Cyllenian Mercury? And thou, quick issue[272] of Jove's broken pate, Aid and direct us; you better stars to knowledge, Sweet constellations, that affect[273] pure oil, 720 And holy vigil of the pale-cheek'd muses, Give your best influence, that with able spright We may correct and please, giving full light To every angle of this various sense: Works of strong birth end better than commence. [_Exit._ [222] As I am not sure whether we should read "Master" or "Messer," (_Ital._), I follow the old copies.