Dutie! O slave,
Had I a friend, I'de dye in my friends grave.
But it sorts well for us; Hindes will be Hindes,
And the Ambitious tread upon such mindes.
Waite, whilest I call you, in the jaylors house.
_Mon_. We will.
[_Exeunt Van. and Mon_.
_Valen_. My Lord, Prince _Fredericke_.
_Enter Fred_.
_Fred_. Wofull _Fredericke_
Were a beseeming Epitaph for me,
The other tastes of too much soveraigntie.
What? is it you! the glory of the stewes!
_Valen_. Thy mother, _Fredericke_.
_Fred_. I detest that name,
My mother was a Dutches of true fame;
And now I thinke upon her, when she died
I was ordain'd to be indignified.
She never did incense my Princely Father
To the destruction of his loving sonne:
Oh she was vertuous, trulie naturall,
But this step-divell doth promise our fall.
_Val_. Why doest thou raile on me? I am come
To set thee free from all imprisonment.
_Fred_. By what true supersedeas but by death?
If it be so, come, strike me to the earth;
Thou needest no other weapon but thine eye;
Tis full of poyson, fixe it, and Ile die.
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