Strange it is,
If this should prove a falshood after this;
I’ve threaten’d him with Death upon the failer,
Yet still he has persisted to affirm it,
Besides, I climb’d the Garden Wall before him,
And that way gave him time for his escape,
If he’d design to make it: These Circumstances
Do half perswade ’tis true. Oh, apprehension!
So terrible the consequence appears,
It makes my brain turn round, and Night seem darker.
The Moon begins to drown her self in Clouds,
Leaving a duskish horror every where,
My sickly fancy makes the Garden seem
Like those benighted Groves in Plato’s Kingdoms,
Which Poets fancy that the damn’d inhabit.
Jasp. My Lord, my Lord.
[Enter Jasper.
Anto. What now?
Jasp. The Garden Door just opens, step this way, lest
You be seen.
[They stand close.
Enter Francisco and Sebastian.
Fran. ’Tis hardly late enough, we’l stay a little,
For I perceive no light i’ th’ usual Window.
Sebast. But are you confident Antonio’s absent?
Fran. I’m told for certain that he went from home
To see Don John Valasco, who is sick.