Ser. I’th’ lurch, if you will. [Exit.
Enter Hippolito.
Doct. O my most noble friend!
Hip. Few but yourself,
Could have enticed me thus, to trust the air
With my close sighs. You sent for me; what news?
Doct. Come, you must doff this black, dye that pale cheek
Into his own colour, go, attire yourself
Fresh as a bridegroom when he meets his bride.
The duke has done much treason to thy love;
’Tis now revealed, ’tis now to be revenged:
Be merry, honoured friend, thy lady lives.
Hip. What lady?
Doct. Infelice, she’s revived;
Revived? Alack! death never had the heart,
To take breath from her.
Hip. Umh: I thank you, sir,
Physic prolongs life, when it cannot save;
This helps not my hopes, mine are in their grave,
You do some wrong to mock me.
Doct. By that love
Which I have ever borne you, what I speak
Is truth: the maiden lives; that funeral,
Duke’s tears, the mourning, was all counterfeit;
A sleepy draught cozened the world and you:
I was his minister, and then chambered up,
To stop discovery.