Tyr. Thy honours with thy daughters love shall rise,
I shall read thy deservings in her eyes.
Hel. O, may they be eternal books of pleasure.
To show you all delight!
Gov. The loss of her sits closer to my heart
Than that of kingdom or the whorish pomp
Of this world's titles, that with flattery swells us,
And makes us die like beasts fat for destruction.
O, she's a woman, and her eye will stand
Upon advancement, never weary wonder[449].
But when she turns her head by chance, and sees
The fortunes that are my companions,
She'll snatch her eyes off, and repent the looking.
Tyr. 'Tis well-advis'd; we doom thee, Govianus,
To banishment for ever from our kingdom.
Gov. What could be worse to one whose heart is lock'd
Up in another's bosom? Banishment!
And why not death? Is that too easy for me?
Tyr. But that the world would call our way to dignity
A path of blood, it should be the first act in all our reign.
Gov. She's lost for ever; farewell, virtuous men,
Too honest for your greatness! now you're mightier
Than when we knew the kingdom; your style's heavier
Than ponderous nobility. Farewell!
3d Nob. How's that, sir?
Gov. O sir! is it you?
I knew you one-and-twenty and a lord,
When your discretion[450] suck'd; is't come from nurse yet?
You scorn to be a scholar: you were born better.
You have good lands—that's the best grounds of learning.
If you can construe but your doctor's bill,
Parse your wife's waiting-women, and decline your tenants,
Till they're all beggars, with new fines and rackings;
You're scholar good enough for a lady's son,
That's born to living; if you list to read,
Ride but to th' city and bestow your looks
On the court library, the mercer's books,
They'll quickly furnish you; do but entertain
A tailor for your tutor, to expound
All the hard stuff to you, by what name and title
Soever they be call'd.
3d Nob. I thank you, sir.