_Val_. And she that undertakes so great an act
As I intend, had need of faithfull hearts
This is the prison, and the jaylor comes
In happy time: where's trayterous _Fredericke_?
_Enter Jaylor_.
_Jaylor_. What is your highnesse pleasure with the Prince?
_Val_. Looke there, if you can reade.
_Jai_. O heavenly God,
What doe I read? a warrant for his death?
_Valen_. Resigne your keyes, goe weepe a dirge or twaine
But make no clamour with your lamentation.
_Jay_. I dare not prophesie what my soule feares,
Yet Ile lament his tragedie in teares. [_Exit_.
_Valen_. Oft have I seene a Nobleman arraign'd
By mighty Lords, the pillars of the land,
Some of which number, his inclined friends,
Have wept, yet past the verdict of his death:
So fares it with the Prince. Were I his jaylor,
And so affected unto _Fredericks_ life,
The fearfull'st tyrant nor the cruell'st plagues
That ever lighted on tormented soules,
Should make me yeeld my prisoner to their hands.
_Mon_. Madam, he knowes his duty, and performes it.
_Valen_. Setting aside all dutie, I would die
Ere like a woman weepe a tragedie;
Tis basenesse, cowardize.
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