Mech. Why this is court-grace[174] to men in misery,
And thus these tail-less lions with their roar
Affright the simple herd: O, I could now
Turn rebel 'gainst their pride.
Enter Epire.
But here comes the duke:
My gracious lord, vouchsafe to hear my griefs.
Epire. For God's love, cease your trouble, we are all
Troubled with griefs of stranger qualities.
Mech. Words are no heavy burthen.
Epire. No, had I no other weight;
But we are all press'd down with other poise:
As for your suit, it is referr'd to Prate:
And he must give you fair despatch with favour;
Which if he slight for envy or for bribe,
Repair to me, and I will not forget
To give you ease, and chide his negligence;
Mean space, I pray you leave me, for we all
Are troubled now with greatest miracles.[175]
Mech. Your grace doth do me comfort, and I will
Study with service to deserve your favours,
And so I take my leave. [Exit Mechant.
Enter two Doctors.
Epire. Your own contentments follow you.
Now, gentlemen,
What news within? can this dumb wonder speak?
Have you cut off those lets that tied his speech,
And made your fames to sound through Sicily?
1st Doc. All hopeful means that man or art can find
Have we made trial of, but 'tis in vain:
For still, my lord, the cure's invincible.