Duke. You’ll find it so, I fear.
Cla. What have we here—the Art of Brachygraphy?
[Looks on the letter.
Tha. He’s stung already:
As if his eyes were turn’d on Perseus’ shield,
Their motion’s fix’d, like to the pool of Styx.
Abi. Yonder’s our flames; and from the hollow arches
Of his quick eyes comes comet-trains of fire, 170
Bursting like hidden furies from their caves.
Cla.[323] [reading.] Yours till he sleep the sleep of all the world, Rogero.
Rog. Marry, and that lethargy seize you! Read again.
[Reads again.
Cla. Thy servant so made by his stars, Rogero.
A fire on your wand’ring stars, Rogero!
Rog. Satan, why hast thou tempted my wife?