Sulp. Ten Colledges of Doctors shall not save her. Her fate is in your hand.
Hip. Can I restore her?
Sulp. If you command my Art.
Hip. I'le dye my self first.
And yet I'le go visit her, and see
This miracle of sorrow in Arnoldo:
And 'twere for me, I should change places with her,
And dye most happy, such a lovers tears
Were a rich monument, but too good for her,
Whose misery I glory in: come Sulpitia,
You shall along with me, good Zabulon
Be not far off.
Zab. I will attend you Madam. [Exeunt.
Enter Duarte, and a Servant.
Ser. I have serv'd you from my youth, and ever
You have found me faithful: that you live's a treasure
I'le lock up here; nor shall it be let forth,
But when you give me warrant.
Dua. I rely
Upon thy faith; nay, no more protestations,
Too many of them will call that in question,
Which now I doubt not: she is there?
Ser. Alone too,
But take it on my life, your entertainment,
Appearing as you are, will be but course,
For the displeasure I shall undergo
I am prepar'd.
Dua. Leave me, I'le stand the hazard. [Exit Servant.
The silence that's observ'd, her close retirements,
No visitants admitted, not the day;
These sable colours, all signs of true sorrow,
Or hers is deeply counterfeit. I'le look nearer,
Manners give leave—she sits upon the ground;
By heaven she weeps; my picture in her hand too;
She kisses it and weeps again.