Tony. The fool and thou art parted. [Exit.
Fred. Sorano work, and free me from this spell,
'Twixt love and scorn there's nothing felt but hell. [Exit.
Enter Valerio, Camillo, Cleanthes, Menallo, and Servants.
Val. Tye on my Scarf, you are so long about me,
Good my Lords help, give me my other Cloak,
That Hat and Feather, Lord what a Taylor's this,
To make me up thus straight! one sigh would burst me,
I have not room to breath, come button, button,
Button, apace.
Cam. I am glad to see you merry Sir.
Val. 'Twould make you merry had you such a wife,
And such an age to injoy her in.
Men. An age Sir?
Val. A moneth's an age to him that is contented,
What should I seek for more? give me my sword.
Ha my good Lords, that every one of you now
Had but a Lady of that youth and beauty
To bless your selves this night with, would ye not?
Pray ye speak uprightly.
Cle. We confess ye happy,
And we could well wish such another Banquet,
But on that price my Lord—
Val. 'Twere nothing else,
No man can ever come to aim at Heaven,
But by the knowledge of a Hell. These shooes are heavy,
And if I should be call'd to dance they'l clog me,
Get me some pumps; I'le tell ye brave Camillo,
And you dear friends, the King has honour'd me,
Out of his gracious favour has much honour'd me,
To limit me my time, for who would live long?
Who would be old? 'tis such a weariness,
Such a disease, that hangs like lead upon us.
As it increases, so vexations,
Griefs of the minde, pains of the feeble body,
Rheums, coughs, catarrhs, we are but our living coffins;
Besides, the fair soul's old too, it grows covetous,
Which shews all honour is departed from us,
And we are Earth again.