ONAELIA
Say I turn poet, what should I get?
POET
Opinion.
ONAELIA
Alas, I have got too much of that already,
Opinion is my evidence, judge and jury.
Mine own guilt and opinion now condemn me.
I'll therefore be no poet, no nor make
Ten muses of your nine. I'll swear for this;
Verses, though freely born, like slaves are sold,
I crown thy lines with bays, thy love with gold:
So fare thou well.
POET
Our pen shall honour thee.
Exit Poet, enter Cornego.
CORNEGO The poet's book Madam, has got the inflammation of the liver, it died of a burning fever.
ONAELIA
What shall I do, Cornego? For this poet
Has filled me with a fury. I could write
Strange satires now against adulterers,
And marriage-breakers.
CORNEGO
I believe you Madam - but here comes your uncle.
Enter Medina, Alanzo, Carlo, Alba, Sebastian, Daenia.
MEDINA
Where's our niece?
Turn your brains round, and recollect your spirits,
And see your noble friends and kinsmen ready
To pay revenge his due.