Enter Julio, Prospero, and Sanitonella.

Julio:
A pox on't,
I have undertaken the challenge very foolishly:
What if I do not appear to answer it?

Prospero:
It would be absolute conviction
Of cowardice, and perjury; and the Dane
May to your public shame, reverse your arms,
Or have them ignominiously fastened
Under his horse tail.

Julio:
I do not like that so well.
I see then I must fight whether I will or no.

Prospero:
How does Romelio bear himself? They say
He has almost brain'd one of our cunning'st fencers,
That practis'd with him.

Julio:
Very certain: and now you talk of fencing,
Do you not remember the Welsh gentleman,
That was travelling to Rome upon return?
Prospero:
No, what of him?

Julio:
There was a strange experiment of a fencer.

Prospero:
What was that?

Julio:
The Welshman in's play, do what the fencer could,
Hung still an arse; he could not for's life
Make him come on bravely: till one night at supper,
Observing what a deal of Parma cheese
His scholar devoured, [a] goes ingeniously
The next morning, and makes a spacious button
For his foil, of toasted cheese, and as sure as you live,
That made him come on the braveliest.

Prospero:
Possible!

Julio:
Marry it taught him an ill grace in's play,
It made him gape still, gape as he put in for't,
As I have seen some hungry usher.
Sanitonella:
The toasting of it belike,
Was to make it more supple, had he chanc'd
To have hit him a'th' chaps.

Julio:
Not unlikely.
Who can tell me if we may breathe in the duel?

Prospero:
By no means.

Julio:
Nor drink?

Prospero:
Neither.

Julio:
That's scurvy, anger will make me very dry.

Prospero:
You mistake sir, 'tis sorrow that is very dry.

Sanitonella:
Not always sir, I have known sorrow very
wet.
Julio:
In rainy weather?

Sanitonella:
No, when a woman has come dropping
wet.
Out of a cuckingstool.

Julio:
Then 'twas wet indeed sir.

Enter Romblio, very melancholy, and the Capuchin.

Capuchin aside:
Having from Leonora's waiting-woman
Deliver'd a most strange intelligence
Of Contarino's recovery, I am come
To sound Romelio's penitence; that perform'd;
To end these errors by discovering
What she related to me. To Romelio Peace to you sir —
Pray gentlemen, let the freedom of this room
Be mine a little —to Julio Nay sir, you may stay.

Exeunt Pro[spero and] San[itonella].

Will you pray with me?

Romelio:
No, no, the world and I
Have not made up our accounts yet.

Capuchin:
Shall I pray for you?

Romelio:
Whether you do or no, I care not.

Capuchin:
O you have a dangerous voyage to take.

Romelio:
No matter, I will be mine own pilot:
Do not you trouble your head with the business.

Capuchin:
Pray tell me, do not you meditate of death?

Romelio:
Phew, I took out that lesson
When I once lay sick of an ague: I do now
Labour for life, for life! Sir, can you tell me
Whether your Toledo, or your Milan blade
Be best temper'd?

Capuchin:
These things you know,
Are out of my practice.

Romelio:
But these are things you know,
I must practise with tomorrow.

Capuchin:
Were l in your case,
I should present to myself strange shadows.

Romelio:
Turn you, were I in your case, I should laugh
At mine own shadow. Who has hired you
To make me coward?

Capuchin:
I would make you
A good Christian.

Romelio:
Withal, let me continue
An honest man, which I am very certain,
A coward can never be: you take upon you
A physician's place, rather than a divine's.
You go about to bring my body so low,
I should fight i'th' lists tomorrow like a dormouse,
And be made away in a slumber.

Capuchin:
Did you murder Contarino?

Romelio:
That's a scurvy question now.

Capuchin:
Why sir?

Romelio:
Did you ask it as a confessor, or as a spy?

Capuchin:
As one that fain would jostle the devil
Out of your way.

Romelio:
Um, you are but weakly made for't:
He's a cunning wrestler, I can tell you, and has broke
Many a man's neck.

Capuchin:
But to give him the foil
Goes not by strength.

Romelio:
Let it go by what it will,
Get me some good victuals to breakfast,
I am hungry.

Capuchin:
Here's food for you.

Offering him a book.

Romelio:
Pew, I am not to commence Doctor:
For then the word, devour that book, were proper.
I am to fight, to fight sir, and I'll do't,
As I would feed, with a good stomach.

Capuchin:
Can you feed,
And apprehend death?

Romelio:
Why sir? Is not Death
A hungry companion? Say? Is not the grave
Said to be a great devourer? Get me some victuals.
I knew a man that was to lose his head,
Feed with an excellent good appetite,
To strengthen his heart, scarce half an hour before.
And if he did it, that only was to speak,
What should I, that am to do?

Capuchin:
This confidence,
If it be grounded upon truth, 'tis well.

Romelio:
You must understand, that resolution
Should ever wait upon a noble death,
As captains bring their soldiers out o'th' field,
And come off last: for, I pray, what is death?
The safest trench i'th' world to keep man free
From fortune's gunshot; to be afraid of that
Would prove me weaker than a teeming woman,
That does endure a thousand times more pain
In bearing of a child.

Capuchin:
O, I tremble for you:
For I do know you have a storm within you,
More terrible than a sea fight, and your soul
Being heretofore drown'd in security,
You know not how to live, nor how to die:
But I have an object that shall startle you,
And make you know whither you are going.

Romelio:
I am arm'd for't.

Enter Leonora with two coffins borne by her servants, and
two winding sheets stuck with flowers; presents one to her
son, and the other to Julio.

'Tis very welcome, this is a decent garment
Will never be out of fashion. I will kiss it.
All the flowers of the spring
Meet to perfume our burying:
These have but their growing prime,
And man does flourish but his time.
Survey our progress from our birth,
We are set, we grow, we turn to earth.

Soft music [is played].

Courts adieu, and all delights,
All bewitching appetites;
Sweetest breath, and clearest eye,
Like perfumes go out and die;
And consequently this is done,
As shadows wait upon the sun.
Vain the ambition of kings,
Who seek by trophies and dead things,
To leave a living name behind,
And weave but nets to catch the wind.
O you have wrought a miracle, and melted
A heart of adamant: you have compris'd
In this dumb pageant, a right excellent form
Of penitence.

Capuchin:
I am glad you so receive it.

Romelio:
This object does persuade me to forgive
The wrong she has done me, which I count the way
To be forgiven yonder: and this shroud
Shows me how rankly we do smell of earth
When we are in all our glory. Will it please you
Enter that closet, where I shall confer
'Bout matters of most weighty consequence,
Before the duel?

Exit Leonora [into the closet].

Julio:
Now I am right in the bandoleer
For th' gallows. What a scurvy fashion 'tis,
To hang one's coffm in a scarf!

Capuchin:
Why this is well:
And now that I have made you fit for death,
And brought you even as low as is the grave,
I will raise you up again, speak comforts to you
Beyond your hopes, turn this intended duel
To a triumph.

Romelio:
More divinity yet?
Good sir, do one thing first, there's in my closet
A prayer book that is cover'd with gilt vellum;
Fetch it, and pray you certify my mother,
I'll presently come to her.

[Exit Capuchin into the closet. Romelio] locks him in.

So now you are safe.

Julio:
What have you done?

Romelio:
Why I have lock'd them up
Into a turret of the castle, safe enough
For troubling us this four hours; and he please,
He may open a casement, and whistle out to'th' sea,
Like a bosun, not any creature can hear him.
Wast not thou a-weary of his preaching?

Julio:
Yes, if he had had an hour-glass by him,
I would have wish'd he would have jogg'd it a little.
But your mother, your mother's lock'd in too.

Romelio:
So much the better,
I am rid of her howling at parting.

Julio:
Hark, he knocks to be let out and he were mad.

Romelio:
Let him knock till his sandals fly in pieces.

Julio:
Ha, what says he? Contarino living?

Romelio:
Aye, aye, he means he would have Contarino's
living
Bestow'd upon his monastery, 'tis that
He only fishes for. So, 'tis break of day,
We shall be call'd to the combat presently.

Julio:
I am sorry for one thing.

Romelio:
What's that?

Julio:
That I made not mine own ballad: I do fear
I shall be roguishly abused in metre,
If I miscarry. Well, if the young Capuchin
Does not talk a'th' flesh as fast now to your mother,
As he did to us a'th' spirit! If he do,
'Tis not the first time that the prison royal
Has been guilty of close committing.

Romelio:
Now to'th' combat.

[Exeunt.] Enter Capuchin and Leonora above
at a window.

Leonora:
Contarino living?

Capuchin:
Yes madam, he is living and Ercole's second.

Leonora:
Why has he lock'd us up thus?

Capuchin:
Some evil angel
Makes him deaf to his own safety; we are shut
Into a turret, the most desolate prison
Of all the castle, and his obstinacy,
Madness, or secret fate, has thus prevented
The saving of his life.

Leonora:
O the saving Contarino's,
His is worth nothing: for heaven's sake call louder.

Capuchin:
To little purpose.

Leonora:
I will leap these battlements,
And may I be found dead time enough,
To hinder the combat!

Capuchin:
O look upwards rather,
Their deliverance must come thence: to see how heaven
Can invert man's firmest purpose! His intent
Of murdering Contarino, was a mean
To work his safety, and my coming hither
To save him, is his ruin: wretches turn
The tide of their good fortune, and being drench' d
In some presumptuous and hidden sins,
While they aspire to do themselves most right,
The devil that rules i'th' air, hangs in their light.

Leonora:
O they must not be lost thus: some good
Christian
Come within our hearing! Ope the other casettlent
That looks into the city.

Capuchin:
Madam, I shall.

Exeunt.