Ven. Why, it hits past the apprehension of
Indifferent wits. [Aside.
Lus. My lord, let post-horses be sent
Into all places to entrap the villain.
Ven. Post-horses, ha, ha! [Aside.
Noble. My lord, we're something bold to know our duty.
Your father's accidentally departed;
The titles that were due to him meet you.
Lus. Meet me! I'm not at leisure, my good lord.
I've many griefs to despatch out o' th' way.
Welcome, sweet titles!— [Aside.
Talk to me, my lords,
Of sepulchres and mighty emperors' bones;
That's thought for me.
Ven. So one may see by this
How foreign markets go;
Courtiers have feet o' th' nines, and tongues o' th' twelves;
They flatter dukes, and dukes flatter themselves.
[Aside.
Noble. My lord, it is your shine must comfort us.
Lus. Alas! I shine in tears, like the sun in April.
Noble. You're now my lord's grace.