_Bor._ His forward spirit pressed into the front, And being engaged within the enemy When they retreated through the rising stream, I' the violent confusion of the throng Was overborne, and perished in the flood. And here's the sad remembrance of his life--the scarf, Which, for his sake, I will for ever wear. _Mont._ Torment me not with witnesses of that Which I desire not to believe, yet must. _D'Am._ Thou art a screech-owl and dost come i' the night To be the cursèd messenger of death. Away! depart my house, or, by my soul, You'll find me a more fatal enemy Than ever was Ostend. Begone; dispatch! _Bor._ Sir, 'twas my love. _D'Am._ Your love to vex my heart With that I hate? Hark, do you hear, you knave? O thou'rt a most delicate, sweet, eloquent villain! [_Aside._ _Bor._ Was't not well counterfeited? [_Aside._ _D'Am._ Rarely.--[_Aside._] Begone. I will not here reply. _Bor._ Why then, farewell. I will not trouble you. [_Exit._ _D'Am._ So. The foundation's laid. Now by degrees [_Aside._ The work will rise and soon be perfected. O this uncertain state of mortal man! _Bel._ What then? It is the inevitable fate Of all things underneath the moon. _D'Am._ 'Tis true. Brother, for health's sake overcome your grief. _Mont._ I cannot, sir. I am incapable Of comfort. My turn will be next. I feel Myself not well. _D'Am._ You yield too much to grief. _Lang._ All men are mortal. The hour of death is uncertain. Age makes sickness the more dangerous, and grief is subject to distraction. You know not how soon you may be deprived of the benefit of sense. In my understanding, therefore, You shall do well if you be sick to set Your state in present order. Make your will. _D'Am._ I have my wish. Lights for my brother. _Mont._ I'll withdraw a while, And crave the honest counsel of this man. _Bel._ With all my heart. I pray attend him, sir. [_Exeunt_ MONTFERRERS _and_ SNUFFE. This next room, please your lordship. _D'Am._ Where you will. [_Exeunt_ BELFOREST _and_ D'AMVILLE. _Lev._ My daughter's gone. Come, son, Mistress Cataplasma, come, we'll up into her chamber. I'd fain see how she entertains the expectation of her husband's bedfellowship. _Rou._ 'Faith, howsoever she entertains it, I Shall hardly please her; therefore let her rest. _Lev._ Nay, please her hardly, and you please her best. [_Exeunt._ SCENE II.--_The Hall in the same._ _Enter three_ Servants, _drunk, drawing in_ FRESCO. _1st Ser._ Boy! fill some drink, boy. _Fres._ Enough, good sir; not a drop more by this light. _2nd Ser._ Not by this light? Why then put out the candles and we'll drink i' the dark, and t'-to't, old boy. _Fres._ No, no, no, no, no. _3rd Ser._ Why then take thy liquor. A health, Fresco! [_Kneels._ _Fres._ Your health will make me sick, sir. _1st Ser._ Then 'twill bring you o' your knees, I hope, sir.