Mar. To whom would you apply it?
Sor. To the sick Prince,
It will in half a day dissolve his melancholy.
Rug. I do believe, and give him sleep for ever.
What impudence is this, and what base malice,
To make us instruments of thy abuses?
Are we set here to poison him?
Sor. Mistake not, yet I must needs say, 'tis a noble care,
And worthy vertuous servants; if you will see
A flourishing estate again in Naples,
And great Alphonso reign that's truly good,
And like himself able to make all excellent;
Give him this drink, and this good health unto him. [Drinks.
I am not so desperate yet to kill my self,
Never look on me as a guilty man,
Nor on the water as a speedy poison:
I am not mad, nor laid out all my treasure,
My conscience and my credit to abuse ye;
How nimbly and how chearfully it works now
Upon my heart and head! sure I am a new man,
There is no sadness that I feel within me,
But as it meets it, like a lazie vapour
How it flyes off. Here, give it him with speed,
You are more guilty than I ever was,
And worthier of the name of evil subjects,
If but an hour you hold this from his health.
Rug. 'Tis some rare vertuous thing sure, he is a good man,
It must be so, come, let's apply it presently,
And may it sweetly work.
Sor. Pray let me hear on't, and carry it close my Lords.
Mar. Yes, good Sorano. [Ex. Rugio, Marco.
Sor. Do my good fools, my honest pious coxcombs,
My wary fools too: have I caught your wisedoms?
You never dream't I knew an Antidote,
Nor how to take it to secure mine own life;
I am an Asse, go, give him the fine cordial,
And when you have done go dig his grave, good Frier,
Some two hours hence we shall have such a bawling,
And roaring up and down for Aqua vitæ,
Such rubbing, and such nointing, and such cooling,
I have sent him that will make a bonfire in's belly,
If he recover it, there is no heat in Hell sure. [Exit.
Enter Frederick, and Podrano.
Fred. Podrano?