Cam. Pr’ythee, Aurelian, be mollified, and beat him.

Fron. Pray, sir, hear reason, and lay it on, for my sake.

Aur. I am obdurate.

Cam. But what will your father say, if you part with him?

Aur. I care not.

Ben. Well, sir, since you are so peremptory, remember I have offered you satisfaction, and so long my conscience is at ease.  What a devil, before I’ll offer myself twice to be beaten, by any master in Christendom, I’ll starve, and that is my resolution; and so your servant that was, sir. [Exit.

Aur. I am glad I am rid of him; he was my evil genius, and was always appearing to me, to blast my undertakings:  Let me send him never so far off, the devil would be sure to put him in my way, when I had any thing to execute.  Come, Camillo, now we have changed the dice, it may be we shall have better fortune. [Exeunt.

SCENE II.

  Enter the Duke of Mantua in masquerade, FREDERICK, VALERIO, and
  others.  On the other side, enter LUCRETIA, HIPPOLITA, and
  ASCANIO.

Luc. [To ASCA.] The prince I know already, by your description of his masking habit; but, which is the duke, his father?

Asca. He whom you see talking with the prince, and looking this way.  I believe he has observed us.

Luc. If he has not, I am resolved we’ll make ourselves as remarkable as we can:  I’ll exercise my talent of dancing.

Hip. And I mine of singing.

Duke. [To FRED.] Do you know the company which came in last?

Fred. I cannot possibly imagine who they are.—­At least I will not tell you. [Aside.

Duke. There’s something very uncommon in the air of one of them.

Fred. Please you, sir, I’ll discourse with her, and see if I can satisfy your highness.

Duke. Stay, there’s a dance beginning, and she seems as if she would make one.

SONG AND DANCE.

Long betwixt love and fear Phyllis, tormented,
Shunned her own wish, yet at last she consented: 
But loth that day should her blushes discover,
Come, gentle night, she said,
Come quickly to my aid,
And a poor shamefaced maid
Hide from her lover.

Now cold as ice I am, now hot as fire,
I dare not tell myself my own desire;
But let day fly away, and let night haste her: 
Grant, ye kind powers above,
Slow hours to parting love;
But when to bless we move,
Bid them fly faster.

  How sweet it is to love, when I discover
  That fire, which burns my heart, warming my lover! 
  ’Tis pity love so true should be mistaken: 
    But if this night he be
    False or unkind to me,
    Let me die, ere I see
    That I’m forsaken.