Lor. Give me my merit—death.
Princes can build and ruin with one breath.
Ven. The cause may seem to merit death, in that
Two souls were hazarded, a princess' fame,
A duke dishonour'd, and a noble lord
Wounded in reputation; but since she lives,
And that no blood was spilt (though something dearer)
Mercy thus far stretches her silver wings
Over your trespass. We do banish you
Both from our dukedom's limits and your own:
If you but set a daring foot upon them,
Whilst life lends you ability to stand,
You fall into the pit of death, unless
You shall find out our most unfortunate sister,
And bring her to our court.
Lor. You, sir, are merciful!
Ver. This let me add,
In that you have had[140] impartial justice, sir,
Princes should punish vice in their own blood:
Until you find that excellent injur'd lady,
Upon this gentleman, who hath suffer'd for you,
We confer your lands, revenues, and your place:
That, during three days' stay within our confines,
It shall be death to any that relieves you,
But, as they do a beggar at their door,
So cast you from their presence.[141]
Lor. Your dooms are just!
O love, thy first destruction is distrust!
[Exeunt Lorenzo,[142] Jaspro, and Jovani.
Ver. For you, fair sir, until we shall hear tidings
Of your most-injur'd sister, please you to call
My court your own—conceive it so—where live.
Two partners in one passion we will be,
And sweeten sorrow with a sympathy. [Exeunt.
Enter Lodovico like a friar, Jaspro, and Jovani.
Lod. What, am I fitted, gallants? am I fitted?
Jas. To th' life, able to cheat suspicion; and so like
Father Antony the confessor, that I protest
There's not more semblance in a pair of eggs.