Fran. Nay, you must hear my dream out.
Zan. Well, sir, forth.
Fran. When I threw the mantle o'er thee, thou didst laugh
Exceedingly, methought.
Zan. Laugh!
Fran. And criedst out, the hair did tickle thee.
Zan. There was a dream indeed!
Lodo. Mark her, I pray thee, she simpers like the suds
A collier hath been wash'd in.
Zan. Come, sir; good fortune tends you. I did tell you
I would reveal a secret: Isabella,
The Duke of Florence' sister, was empoisone'd
By a fum'd picture; and Camillo's neck
Was broke by damn'd Flamineo, the mischance
Laid on a vaulting-horse.
Fran. Most strange!
Zan. Most true.
Lodo. The bed of snakes is broke.
Zan. I sadly do confess, I had a hand
In the black deed.
Fran. Thou kept'st their counsel.
Zan. Right;
For which, urg'd with contrition, I intend
This night to rob Vittoria.
Lodo. Excellent penitence!
Usurers dream on 't while they sleep out sermons.
Zan. To further our escape, I have entreated
Leave to retire me, till the funeral,
Unto a friend i' th' country: that excuse
Will further our escape.
Pages:
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128