Fre. O let me have a lusty Banquet after it,
Enter Evanthe, Camillo, Cleanthes, Menallo, Fool.
I will be high and merry.
Sor. There be some Lords
That I could counsel ye to fling from Court, Sir,
They pry into our actions, they are such
The foolish people call their Countries honours,
Honest brave things, and stile them with such Titles,
As if they were the patterns of the Kingdom,
Which makes them proud, and prone to look into us,
And talk at random of our actions,
They should be lovers of your commands,
And followers of your will; bridles and curbs
To the hard headed Commons that malign us,
They come here to do honour to my Sister,
To laugh at your severity, and fright us;
If they had power, what would these men do?
Do you hear, Sir, how privily they whisper?
Fred. I shall silence 'em,
And to their shames within this week Sorano,
In the mean time have patience.
Sor. How they jeer, and look upon me as I were a Monster!
And talk and jeer! how I shall pull your plumes, Lords
How I shall humble ye within these two daies!
Your great names, nor your Country cannot save ye.
Fred. Let in the Suitors. Yet submit, I'le pardon ye,
You are half undone already, do not wind
My anger to that height, it may consume ye,
Enter Lawyer, Physician, Captain, Cut-purse.
And utterly destroy thee, fair Evanthe: yet I have mercy.
Evan. Use it to your bawds,
To me use cruelty, it best becomes ye,
And shews more Kingly: I contemn your mercy,
It is a cozening, and a bawdy mercy;
Can any thing be hoped for, to relieve me?
Or is it fit? I thank you for a pity, when you have kill'd my Lord.