Nurse. He's in a rare humour; if she be in as good

a one

Samp. If she be, marry, we may e'en say, they have begot it upon one another.

Nurse. Well; why don't you go back again to your old count? You thought your throat cut, I warrant you, to be turn'd out of a nobleman's service.

Samp. For the future, I will never serve in a house where the master or mistress of it lie single: they are out of humour with every body when they are not pleased themselves. Now, this matrimony makes every thing go well. There's mirth and money stirring about when those matters go as they should do. Nurse. Indeed, this matrimony, Sampson

Samp. Ah, nurse! this matrimony is a very good thing-but, what, now my lady is married, I hope we shall have company come to the house: there's something always coming from one gentleman or other upon those occasions, if my lady loves company. This feasting looks well, Nurse.

Nurse. Odso, my master! we must not be seen.

[Exeunt.

Enter VILLEROY with a Letter, and ISABELLA.
Vil. I must away this moment-see his letter,
Sign'd by himself: alas! he`could no more;
My brother's desperate, and cannot die
In peace, but in my arms.

Isa. So suddenly!

Vil. Suddenly taken, on the road to Brussels,

To do us honour, love; unfortunate !

Thus to be torn from thee, and all those charms,

Tho' cold to me and dead.

Isa. I'm sorry for the cause.

Vil. Oh! could I think,

Could I persuade myself that your concern
For me, or for my absence, were the spring,
The fountain of these melancholy thoughts,
My heart would dance, spite of the sad occasion,
And be a gay companion in my journey;

But

Enter CARLOS from Supper.

you left my

friends?

My good Carlos, why have

Car. They are departed home.

They saw some sudden melancholy news

Had stolen the lively colour from your cheek

You had withdrawn, the bride, alarm'd, had follow'd:

Mere ceremony had been constraint; and this

Good-natur'd rudeness

Vil. Was the more obliging.

There, Carlos, is the cause.

Car. Unlucky accident!

[Gives the letter.

Th' Archbishop of Malines, your worthy brother

With him to-night! Sister, will you permit it?

Vil. It must be so.

Isa. You hear it must be so.

Vil. Oh, that it must!

Car. To leave your bride so soon!

E

Vil. But having the possession of my love,

I am the better able to support

My absence, in the hopes of my return.

Car. Your stay will be but short?
Vil. It will seem long!

The longer that my Isabella sighs:

I shall be jealous of this rival, grief,
"That you indulge and fondle in my absence."
It takes so full possession of thy heart,
There is not room enough for mighty love.

Enter Servant, and bows.

My horses wait: farewell, my love! You, Carlos, Will act a brother's part, 'till I return,

And be the guardian here. All, all I have

That's dear to me, I give up to your care.

Car. And I receive her as a friend and brother.
Vil. Nay, stir not, love! for the night air is cold,
And the dews fall-Here be our end of parting;
Carlos will see me to my horse. [Exit with Carlos.
Isa. Oh, may thy brother better all thy hopes!
Adieu.

"A sudden melancholy bakes my blood!
"Forgive me, Villeroy—I do not find
"That cheerful gratitude thy service asks:
"Yet, if I know my heart, and sure I do,
"'Tis not averse from honest obligation.
"I'll to my chamber, and to bed; my mind,
"My harass'd mind, is weary."

[Exit.

ACT IV. Scene 1.

The Street. Enter BIRON and BELFORD, just arrived.

Biron.

THE longest day will have an end; we are got home

at last.

Bel. We have got our legs at liberty; and liberty is home wherever we go; though mine lies most in England.

Bir. Pray let me call this yours: for what I can command in Brussels, you shall find your own. I have a father here, who, perhaps, after seven years absence, and costing him nothing in my travels, may be glad to see me. You know my story-How does my disguise become me?

Bel. Just as you would have it; 'tis natural, and will conceal you.

Bir. To-morrow you shall be sure to find me here, as early as you please. This is the house, you have observed the street.

Bel. I warrant you; I ha'n't many visits to make before I come to you.

Bir. To-night I have some affairs that will oblige me to be in private.

Bel. A good bed is the privatest affair that I desire to be engaged in to-night; your directions will carry me to my lodgings.

Bir. Good night, my friend.

[Exit. [Knocks.

The long-expected moment is arriv'd!
And if all here is well, my past sorrows
Will only heighten my excess of joy;
And nothing will remain to wish or hope for!

Enter SAMPSON.

[Knocks again.

Samp. Who's there? What would you have?
Bir. Is your lady at home, friend?

Samp. Why, truly, friend, it is my employment to answer impertinent questions: but for my lady's being at home, or no, that's just as my lady pleases. Bir. But how shall I know whether it pleases her

or no?

Samp. Why, if you'll take my word for it, you may carry your errand back again; she never pleases to see any body at this time of night that she does not know; and by your dress and appearance I am sure you must be a stranger to her.

Bir. But I have business; and you don't know how that may please her.

Samp. Nay, if you have business, she is the best judge whether your business will please her or no; therefore I will proceed in my office, and know of my lady whether or no she is pleas'd to be at home, [Going.

or no

Enter Nurse.

Nurse. Who's that you are so busy withal? Methinks you might have found out an answer in fewer