Shad. Indeed, if it be one’s destiny to have a filthy face, I know no remedy but to go masked and cry “Woe worth the Fates.”
Amp. Why droops my father? these are only shadows,
Raised by the malice of some enemy,
To fright your life, o’er which they have no power.
Shad. Shadows? I defy their kindred.
Fort. O Ampedo, I faint; help me, my sons.
Andel. Shadow, I pray thee run and call more help.
Shad. If that desperate Don Dego[378] Death hath ta’en up the cudgels once, here’s never a fencer in Cyprus dare take my old master’s part.
Andel. Run, villain, call more help.
Shad. Bid him thank the Destinies for this. [Exit.
Fort. Let me shrink down, and die between your arms,
Help comes in vain. No hand can conquer fate,
This instant is the last of my life’s date.
This goddess, if at least she be a goddess,
Names herself Fortune: wand’ring in a wood,
Half famished, her I met. I have, quoth she,
Six gifts to spend upon mortality,
Wisdom, strength, health, beauty, long life and riches.
Out of my bounty one of these is thine.
Amp. What benefit did from your choice arise?