Gov. For that we'll have more fit dispute.
Sanch. Your name Sir?
Gov. You shall know that too: but on colder terms,
Your blood and brain are now too hot to take it.
Sanch. Force my Sword from me? this is an affront.
Gov. Bring 'em away.
Sanch. You'll do me reparation. [Exeunt.
Enter Philippo.
Phi. I have for ever lost her, and am lost,
And worthily: my lameness hath undone me;
She's gone hence, asham'd of me: yet I seek her.
Will she be ever found to me again,
Whom she saw stand so poorly, and dare nothing
In her defence, here? when I should have drawn
This Sword out like a Meteor, and have shot it
In both our Parents eies, and left 'em blind
Unto their impotent angers? Oh I am worthy
On whom this loss and scorn should light to death
Without the pity that should wish me better,
Either alive, or in my Epitaph.
Enter Leonardo, Mark-Antonio.
Leo. Well Son, your Father is too near himself
And hath too much of nature to put off
Any affection that belongs to you,
I could have only wish'd you had acquainted
Her Father, whom it equally concerns,
Though y'had presum'd on me: it might have open'd
An easier gate, and path to both our joyes:
For though I am none of those flinty Fathers
That when their children do but natural things,
Turn rock and offence straight: yet Mark-antonio,
All are not of my quarry.