Pietro. Would God I could! Mendoza, bid ’em haste.
[Exit Mendoza.
I would fain shift place; O vain relief!
Sad souls may well change place, but not change grief:
As deer, being struck, fly thorough many soils,[453]
Yet still the shaft sticks fast, so——
Bil. A good old simile, my honest lord. 10
Pietro. I am not much unlike to some sick man
That long desirèd hurtful drink; at last
Swills in and drinks his last, ending at once
Both life and thirst. O, would I ne’er had known
My own dishonour! Good God, that men should desire
To search out that, which, being found, kills all
Their joy of life! to taste the tree of knowledge,
And then be driven from out paradise!—
Canst give me some comfort? 19
Bil. My lord, I have some books which have been dedicated to my honour, and I ne’er read ’em, and yet they had very fine names, Physic for Fortune,[454] Lozenges of sanctified sincerity,[455] very pretty works of curates, scriveners, and schoolmasters. Marry, I remember one Seneca, Lucius Annæus Seneca——
Pietro. Out upon him! he writ of temperance and fortitude, yet lived like a voluptuous epicure, and died like an effeminate coward.—Haste thee to Florence: Here, take our letters; see ’em seal’d: away!
Report in private to the honour’d duke 30
His daughter’s forc’d disgrace; tell him at length
We know too much: due compliments[456] advance:
There’s naught that’s safe and sweet but ignorance.[457]
[Exit.
Enter Bianca.