Ray. Hast thou no skill in magic, that thou fall'st
So just upon my thoughts? thy tongue is tipp'd
Like nature's miracle, that draws the steel
With unresisted violence: I cannot keep
A secret to myself, but thy prevailing
Rhetoric ravishes and leaves my breast
Like to an empty casket,
That once was bless'd with keeping of a jewel
I durst not trust the air with, 'twas so precious:
Pray, be careful.
Phil. You do not doubt me?
Ray. No, were you a woman made of such coarse ingredients as the common, which in our trivial phrase we call mere women, I would not trust thee with a cause so weighty, that the discovery did endanger this—this hair that, when 'tis gone, a lynx's [eye] cannot miss it: but you are—I want expressions, 'tis not common words can speak you truly—you are more than woman.
Phil. My lord, you know my temper, and how to win upon my heart.
Ray. I must be gone, and post a messenger:
France must supply what wants to make thee great—
An army, my Philippa, which these people,
Snoring in pride of their last victory,
Do not so much as dream on:
Nor shall, till they be forced to yield their voices
At our election; which will be ere long.
Phil. O, 'tis an age, I'd rather have it said,
Philippa than a prisoner were dead.
[Exit.
Enter a Criminal Judge and Officers, with Antonio; Petruchio and Aurelia meet him, with Servants.
Jud. Captain Petruchio, take this condemn'd man
Into your charge; it is Antonio, once
A Spanish count, till his rash folly with
His life made forfeit of his honour; he
Was found travelling to your castle;
'Twas Heaven's will that his own feet should with
A willing pace conduct him to his ruin:
For the murther he must be ground to death
In Filford Mill, of which you are the governor:
Here my commission in its end gives strength
To yours. He is your charge: farewell.
His death must be with speed.
[Exit with his.[29]