Ant. Bless not the body with your twining arms,
Which is accurs’d of heaven. O, what black sin
Hath been committed by our ancient house,
Whose scalding vengeance lights upon our heads,
That thus the world and fortune casts us out,
As loathèd objects, ruin’s branded slaves!
And. Do not expostulate the heavens’ will,
But, O, remember to forget thyself;
Forget remembrance what thou once hast been. 120
Come, creep with me from out this open air:
Even trees have tongues, and will betray our life.
I am a-raising of our house, my boy,
Which fortune will not envy, ’tis so mean,
And like the world (all dirt): there shalt thou rip
The inwards of thy fortunes in mine ears,
While I sit weeping, blind with passion’s tears.
Then I’ll begin, and we’ll such order keep,
That one shall still tell griefs, the other weep.
[Exeunt Andrugio and Lucio, leaving Antonio and the Page.
Ant. I’ll follow you. Boy, prithee stay a little. 130
Thou hast had a good voice, if this cold marsh
Wherein we lurk have not corrupted it.
Enter Mellida, standing out of sight, in her Page’s suit.
I prithee sing, but, sirra, (mark you me)
Let each note breathe the heart of passion,
The sad extracture of extremest grief.
Make me a strain speak groaning like a bell
That tolls departing souls;
Breathe me a point that may enforce me weep,
To wring my hands, to break my cursèd breast,
Rave, and exclaim, lie grovelling on the earth, 140
Straight start up frantic, crying, Mellida!
Sing but, Antonio hath lost Mellida,
And thou shalt see me (like a man possess’d)
Howl out such passion, that even this brinish marsh
Will squeeze out tears from out his spongy cheeks:
The rocks even groan, and——prithee, prithee sing,
Or I shall ne’er ha’ done when I am in;
’Tis harder for me end, than to begin.
[The Boy runs a note, Antonio breaks it.
For look thee, boy, my grief that hath no end, 149
I may begin to plain, but——prithee, sing.
[A song.