Ment. You resolve Nobly. [Exeunt.
Actus Quartus. Scæna Prima.
Enter Cesario and a Servant.
Cesar.
Let any friend have entrance.
Servant. Sir a'shall.
Cesar. Any, I except none.
Serv. We know, your mind Sir. [—Exit.
Cesar. Pleasures admit no bounds.
I am pitcht so high
To such a growth of full prosperities
That to conceal my fortunes were an injury
To gratefulness, and those more liberall favours
By whom my glories prosper. He that flowes
In gracious and swolne tydes of best abundance,
Yet will be Ignorant of his own fortunes,
Deserves to live contemn'd, and dye forgotten;
The harvest of my hopes is now already
Ripen'd and gather'd, I can fatten youth
With choice of plenty, and supplies of comforts,
My fate springs in my own hand, and I'll use it.
Enter 2 Servants and Biancha.