Your wish is, you may leave your warlike swords
For monuments in our chapel: I accept it,
As a great honour done me, and must crave
Your leave to furnish out our duchess' revels.
Only one thing, as the last vanity
You e'er shall view, deny me not to stay
To see a barriers prepar'd to-night:
You shall have private standings. It hath pleas'd
The great ambassadors of several princes,
In their return from Rome to their own countries,
To grace our marriage, and to honour me
With such a kind of sport.
Fran. I shall persuade them to stay, my lord.
Brach. Set on there to the presence.
[Exeunt Brachiano, Flamineo, and Hortensio.
Lodo. Noble my lord, most fortunately welcome;
[The conspirators her embrace.
You have our vows, seal'd with the sacrament,
To second your attempts.
Gas. And all things ready;
He could not have invented his own ruin
(Had he despair'd) with more propriety.
Lodo. You would not take my way.
Fran. 'Tis better order'd.
Lodo. T' have poison'd his prayer-book, or a pair of beads,
The pummel of his saddle, his looking-glass,
Or th' handle of his racket,--O, that, that!
That while he had been bandying at tennis,
He might have sworn himself to hell, and strook
His soul into the hazard! Oh, my lord,
I would have our plot be ingenious,
And have it hereafter recorded for example,
Rather than borrow example.
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