My lord, I fear we sit but over-long,
Unless our dainties were more delicate,—
But welcome are you to the best we have.
Now let us in, that you may be dispatch'd;
I think our council is already set.
Exeunt omnes.
[CHORUS.]
ANDREA. Come we for this from depth of under ground,—
To see him feast that gave me my death's wound?
These pleasant sights are sorrow to my soul:
Nothing but league and love and banqueting!
REVENGE. Be still, Andrea; ere we go from hence,
I'll turn their friendship into fell despite,
Their love to mortal hate, their day to night,
Their hope into despair, their peace to war,
Their joys to pain, their bliss to misery.
ACTUS SECUNDUS.
[ACT II. SCENE 1.]
[The DUKE's castle.]
Enter LORENZO and BALTHAZAR.
LORENZO. My lord, though Bel-imperia seem thus coy,
Let reason hold you in your wonted joy:
In time the savage bull sustains the yoke,
In time all haggard hawks will stoop to lure,
In time small wedges cleave the hardest oak,
In time the flint is pierc'd with softest shower;
And she in time will fall from her disdain,
And rue the sufferance of your friendly pain.