Fort. Would I were now in Cyprus with my sons. [Exit.
Sold. Stay! Fortunatus, stay! I am undone.
Treason, lords, treason, get me wings, I’ll fly
After this damnèd traitor through the air.
Re-enter Nobles.
Nobles. Who wrongs the mighty King of Babylon?
Sold. This Fortunatus, this fiend, wrongs your king.
Nobles. Lock the court gates, where is the devil hid?
Sold. No gates, no grates of iron imprison him,
Like a magician breaks he through the clouds,
Bearing my soul with him, for that jewel gone,
I am dead, and all is dross in Babylon.
Fly after him!—’tis vain: on the wind’s wings,
He’ll ride through all the courts of earthly kings.
Nobles. What is the jewel that your grace hath lost?
Sold. He dies that troubles me: call me not king;
For I’ll consume my life in sorrowing. [Exeunt.
