SCENE II.

_Enter the two_ USURPERS,[25] _hand in hand_.

_Ush._ But what's become of Volscius the Great; His presence has not grac'd our court of late.

_Phys._ I fear some ill, from emulation sprung, Has from us that illustrious hero wrung.

_Bayes._ Is not that majestical?

_Smith._ Yes, but who the devil is that Volscius?

_Bayes._ Why, that's a prince I make in love with Parthenope.

_Smith._ I thank you, sir.

_Enter_ CORDELIO.

_Cor._ My lieges, news from Volscius the prince.

_Ush._ His news is welcome, whatsoe'er it be.[26]

_Smith._ How, sir, do you mean whether it be good or bad?

_Bayes._ Nay, pray, sir, have a little patience: gadzookers, you'll spoil all my play. Why, sir, 'tis impossible to answer every impertinent question you ask.

_Smith._ Cry you mercy, sir.

_Cor._ His highness, sirs, commanded me to tell you, That the fair person whom you both do know, Despairing of forgiveness for her fault, In a deep sorrow, twice she did attempt Upon her precious life; but, by the care Of standers-by, prevented was.

_Smith._ Why, what stuff's here?

_Cor._ At last, Volscius the Great this dire resolve embrac'd: His servants he into the country sent, And he himself to Piccadilly went; Where he's inform'd by letters that she's dead.

_Ush._ Dead! is that possible? dead!

_Phys._ O ye gods! [_Exeunt._

_Bayes._ There's a smart expression of a passion: O ye gods! that's one of my bold strokes, egad.

_Smith._ Yes; but who's the fair person that's dead?

_Bayes._ That you shall know anon, sir.

_Smith._ Nay, if we know at all, 'tis well enough.

_Bayes._ Perhaps you may find, too, by-and-by, for all this, that she's not dead neither.

_Smith._ Marry, that's good news indeed. I am glad of that with all my heart.

_Bayes._ Now here's the man brought in that is supposed to have kill'd her. [_A great shout within._