_Flam._ Doth he make a court-ejectment of me? a flaming fire-brand casts more smoke without a chimney than within't. I'll smoor[88] some of them. _Enter_ FRANCISCO DE MEDICIS. How now! thou art sad. _Fran. de Med._ I met even now with the most piteous sight. _Flam._ Thou meet'st another here, a pitiful Degraded courtier. _Fran. de Med._ Your reverend mother Is grown a very old woman in two hours. I found them winding of Marcello's corse; And there is such a solemn melody, 'Tween doleful songs, tears, and sad elegies,-- Such as old grandams watching by the dead Were wont to outwear the nights with,--that, believe me, I had no eyes to guide me forth the room, They were so o'ercharged with water. _Flam._ I will see them. _Fran. de Med._ 'Twere much uncharity in you; for your sight Will add unto their tears. _Flam._ I will see them: They are behind the traverse;[89] I'll discover Their superstitious howling. [_Draws the Curtain._ CORNELIA, ZANCHE, _and three other_ Ladies _discovered winding_ MARCELLO'S _corse. A Song._ _Cor._ This rosemary is withered; pray, get fresh. I would have these herbs grow up in his grave, When I am dead and rotten. Reach the bays, I'll tie a garland here about his head; 'Twill keep my boy from lightning. This sheet I have kept this twenty year, and every day Hallowed it with my prayers: I did not think He should have wore it. _Zanche._ Look you who are yonder. _Cor._ O, reach me the flowers. _Zanche._ Her ladyship's foolish. _Lady._ Alas, her grief Hath turned her child again! _Cor._ You're very welcome: There's rosemary for you;--and rue for you;-- [_To_ FLAMINEO. Heart's-ease for you; I pray make much of it: I have left more for myself. _Fran. de Med._ Lady, who's this? _Cor._ You are, I take it, the grave-maker. _Flam._ So. _Zanche._ 'Tis Flamineo. _Cor._ Will you make me such a fool? here's a white hand: Can blood so soon be washed out? let me see; When screech-owls croak upon the chimney-tops, And the strange cricket i' the oven sings and hops, When yellow spots do on your hands appear, Be certain then you of a corse shall hear. Out upon't, how 'tis speckled! h'as handled a toad, sure. Cowslip-water is good for the memory: Pray, buy me three ounces of't. _Flam._ I would I were from hence. _Cor._ Do you hear, sir? I'll give you a saying which my grandmother Was wont, when she heard the bell toll, to sing o'er Unto her lute. _Flam._ Do, an you will, do.