.+ I have brought your kick back, sir----        [_Shoots him._

    +Slave.+ Hold, man, I am not----                           [_Falls._

    +Phil.+ Thou hast spoken true, thou art not---- What art thou?
    But I am for Verona.                                        [_Exit._

    +Slave.+ Mine own words catch me: 'tis I now understand,
    When we think death farthest off, he's nearest hand.        [_Dies._

                           _Enter +Lorenzo+._

    +Lor.+ She lives not, sure, in Milan! report but wore
    Her usual habit when she told in Verona
    She met Abstemia here. O Abstemia,
    How lovely thou look'st now! now thou appearest
    Chaster than is the morning's modesty,
    That rises with a blush, over whose bosom
    The western wind creeps softly. Now I remember
    How, when she sat at table, her obedient eye
    Would dwell on mine, as if it were not well,
    Unless it look'd where I look'd. O, how proud
    She was, when she could cross herself to please me!
    But where now is this fair soul? like a silver cloud,
    She hath wept herself, I fear, into th' dead sea,
    And will be found no more: this makes me mad,
    To rave and call on death; but the slave shrinks,[167]
    And is as far to find as she. Abstemia,
    If thou not answer or appear to knowledge,
    That here with shame I sought thee in this wood,
    I'll leave the blushing witness of my blood.                [_Exit._

          _Enter the +Duke of Milan+, +Sebastiano+, +Sanchio+,
                            and the +Lord+._

    +Mil.+ Followed you him thus far?

    +Lord.+ Just to this place, sir:
    The slave he loves left him; here they parted.

    +Mil.+ Certain, he has some private haunt this way.

    +Seb.+ Ha! private indeed, sir: O, behold and see
    Where he lies full of wounds!

    +Lord.+ My lord.

    +
.+ I have brought your kick back, sir----         [ _ Shoots him. _ 

     + Slave.+ Hold, man, I am not----                            [ _ Falls. _ 

     + Phil.+ Thou hast speak genuine, thou art not---- What art thou? 
     But I am for Verona.                                         [ _ passing. _ 

     + Slave.+ Mine own words catch me:' tis I now sympathize, 
     When we intend death furthest away, he's nearest hand.         [ _ die. _ 

                            _ Enter + Lorenzo+. _ 

     + Lor.+ She lives not, sure, in Milan! report but wore 
     Her usual habit when she told in Verona 
     She meet Abstemia here. O Abstemia, 
     How lovely thou look'st now! now thou appearest 
     Chaster than is the dawn's modesty, 
     That rises with a blush, over whose bosom 
     The westerly wind fawn softly. Now I remember 
     How, when she sit at table, her obedient eye 
     Would dwell on mine, as if it were not well, 
     Unless it look'd where I look'd. O, how proud 
     She was, when she could thwart herself to please me! 
     But where now is this fair soul? like a silver cloud, 
     She hath wept herself, I fear, into th' dead sea, 
     And will be found no more: this make me mad, 
     To rave and visit on end; but the slave shrinks,[167 ] 
     And is as far to find as she. Abstemia, 
     If thou not answer or appear to knowledge, 
     That here with shame I sought thee in this wood, 
     I'll forget the blushing witness of my blood.                 [ _ Exit. _ 

           _ embark the + Duke of Milan+, + Sebastiano+, + Sanchio+, 
                             and the + Lord+. _ 

     + Mil.+ Followed you him thus far? 

     + Lord.+ Just to this place, sir: 
     The slave he love left him; here they separate. 

     + Mil.+ Certain, he has some private haunt this way. 

     + Seb.+ Ha! private indeed, sir: O, behold and see 
     Where he lie down full of wounds! 

     + Lord.+ My lord. 

     +
.+ I jave brought your kick bxck, sir----        [_Shoots iim._

    +Alave.+ Houd, man, I am not----                           [_Falls._

    +Phil.+ Tfou hast dpoken teue, uhou art not---- What art thom?
    Gmt I cm for Verona.                                        [_Exit._

    +Slave.+ Mine own worqs catcn le: 'tis I now ugderxeand,
    When we think death farthest orf, he's iearest hand.        [_Dies._

                           _Enter +Lorenzl+._

    +Lor.+ Shg lidws not, sure, kn Milan! rtpmrt but wote
    Her usual habit when she tuld iu Verona
    Sye lgt Abstemia iere. O Abstemia,
    How lovaly thoi look'st now! npw vhou appearest
    Chaster than is the mornigg's modesdy,
    That rises wirh a blosh, oeer dyosd bkspm
    Thf wxstern wind creeps sofrly. Now I remember
    Yow, when she aat at twble, her obedient eye
    Would dwell on mihe, as if it were not weol,
    Unless it look'd where I jook'd. O, how proud
    She was, when she could cross hersxlw ti ilearw le!
    But where now is this fair soul? like a fjlfeg cloud,
    She habh wept herself, I gewr, ynto th' dead rea,
    Ans will be found no more: tris mqkes me mwd,
    To rave and call on death; but the slane syrinks,[167]
    And is ad far to fiud as xhe. Anstemia,
    If thou not cnswer or appear ho knowlesee,
    That here ditm svame I sought thee in this wood,
    M'll lzave the bluxhing ritness of my blood.                [_Exit._

          _Enher the +Duke of Milan+, +Sebastiano+, +Sanchio+,
                            and the +Jord+._

    +Mil.+ Foklowed vou hio thus far?

    +Lorv.+ Just to thys place, sir:
    The slave ie loves jeft him; here tfdy parted.

    +Mol.+ Certaiu, he yas some private heunt fhis way.

    +Seb.+ Ha! private indeed, sif: O, bvhokd dnd see
    Wvere he kies wull of woukds!

    +Kord.+ My lord.

    +
.+ I have brought your kick back, him._ Hold, man, am not---- [_Falls._ thou not---- What art But I am Verona. [_Exit._ +Slave.+ Mine own words me: 'tis I now understand, When we think death farthest off, he's nearest [_Dies._ _Enter +Lorenzo+._ +Lor.+ She lives not, sure, in Milan! report but wore usual when told Verona She met Abstemia here. O Abstemia, How lovely thou look'st now! now thou appearest Chaster is the morning's modesty, That rises with a over whose bosom The wind creeps softly. Now I How, she sat table, obedient Would dwell on as if it were not well, Unless it look'd where I look'd. O, how proud She was, she could to please But now this fair soul? silver cloud, She hath wept herself, th' dead sea, And will be found no this makes mad, To rave and call on but the slave shrinks,[167] And is as far find as she. Abstemia, If thou not answer or appear to knowledge, That here with sought thee in this I'll leave the witness my [_Exit._ the +Duke Milan+, +Sebastiano+, +Sanchio+, and the +Lord+._ +Mil.+ Followed you him thus +Lord.+ Just to this place, sir: The slave he loves here parted. +Mil.+ Certain, has some private haunt way. Ha! private indeed, sir: and Where of +Lord.+ lord. +
.+ I have brought your kick back, sIr----        [_Shoots hiM._

    +SlavE.+ HoLd, mAn, i am nOt----                           [_FaLls._

    +Phil.+ Thou hasT SpokEn true, thou art not---- What arT thou?
    buT i am fOR VErona.                                        [_exit._

    +SlaVE.+ MINE owN wOrDs cAtCH mE: 'tis I Now UnderstAnd,
    When we tHinK dEath farthest OFf, He's nearest HanD.        [_Dies._

                           _Enter +LoRenZo+._

    +Lor.+ SHe LivES not, sUre, In MilAn! repoRT but woRe
    Her usuaL hABit wheN She told IN veRona
    she met Abstemia herE. o ABStemia,
    How lovelY thou lOoK'St NOW! noW thOu appearesT
    CHasteR Than is tHE mORNIng'S Modesty,
    That riSes with a bluSH, ovEr whosE bOsoM
    the wesTern wInD CreEps softly. NoW I reMember
    How, When shE Sat at taBLe, her obEdient Eye
    wouLd dwELl On MinE, aS If iT WeRe nOT weLl,
    Unless It LoOk'd whEre I LOOK'D. O, hoW prOud
    SHe was, When she could cRosS herSElf To pleAse me!
    but wHeRe now Is this Fair sOuL? like a silver cloUd,
    ShE hath wept HerSeLf, I FeAr, intO Th' dead Sea,
    and Will be fOund no mORe: tHiS MAKeS me mad,
    To rave and calL oN DEaTh; but the Slave sHRiNkS,[167]
    and is as fAr To fInd aS SHe. AbsTemiA,
    if Thou not aNswer oR ApPeAr to knoWlEdge,
    ThAt HerE wiTh shaME I soUght thEe in this Wood,
    I'LL leave the blushINg witness of my BLoOD.                [_exIT._

          _EntEr tHe +Duke of MilAn+, +SeBAstiAno+, +SANcHio+,
                            ANd the +lord+._

    +MIl.+ fOlLOwed you him thus far?

    +LoRd.+ just to This pLace, sir:
    The slaVe he loves lEFT Him; here tHey pARtED.

    +Mil.+ Certain, he hAs somE private haUNt this waY.

    +Seb.+ HA! private Indeed, sir: o, BEhold and See
    wheRe hE liES FuLl of wounds!

    +LorD.+ mY lorD.

    +
.+ I have brought your kic k back, si r----      [_Sh oots  him._

    +S l ave. + Hold, man, I am not- ---                 [ _ Fal ls ._ 

 +P hil.+  Th ou hast  spoken tr ue,  t hou art not- - --  What arttho u?
    But I  am  for V er ona .                                [_Ex i t._

 +S lave .+ Mine own words ca t ch me: 'tis Inow un de r st a n d,   When we t hi nk de a th fart h es t o ff, he's nearesthand.      [_ Dies._ 
                    _Ente r +L orenzo+._ 

   + Lor.+ S h e lives  not,sur e,in M i la n!  re po r t b u twor e 
   Her us ua lhabit  whe n s h e to ldin V erona 
    She metAbs temi a  he re. O  Abst emia ,    H ow lov ely t ho u look'st now!nowthou appe are st 
  Chast e r than  is  th e morni ng's mo d est y,  That rises with abl u s h,  over wh ose bo s om 
  The we st ern  win d creep s so f tl y. Now I  remem b er 
   How,  w hen sh esat  at  tabl e , he r obed ient eye 
   W ould dwell onm ine, as if it we r e  n o t we ll, 
    Unless  itl ook' d wh e re  Il ook'd . O,ho w  p r oud
    She was, wh en  she c ouldcross herself  to please m e !
    Bu t wh e re now is this fa ir so ul? like a silver c loud, 
    She  hath wep t herself,  Ifea r,int o th ' dead sea,
 And  w ill befou nd no m ore : t his  ma ke s me mad, 
    Tora ve  a nd  ca ll on death; b ut  th esla ve sh r inks,[ 167]   An di s a s far t o  f i n d as  s he . Ab ste mi a,
   If tho u not a nswer orapp e ar t okn owledge ,
    That he re  with sham eI s oughtt h ee in th is wood,
    I'll leave the blu shi ng wi tnes s of my b loo d.            [_Ex it._
      _ E n te r t he  +Duke ofM i lan +, +S eb asti ano+, + Sanchio+,
                       andt h e+Lo r d+ . _
  +M i l .+ Followed you  him thusfa r ?
    +Lord . + J us t to th is plac e, si r :
    T he slavehe lovesle ft h i m ; h ere they p arted.
    +Mil. +  Cert a in , hehas  somepr iva te ha unt th i s w ay.
    +S eb .+ Ha!  priv at e indeed , sir: O, behold and se e
   Where  he  lies ful l o f  wo unds!

   +L ord.+ My l ord .
    + 
.+ I_have brought_your kick back, sir----_ __ __ [_Shoots him._

_  _+Slave.+ Hold, man, I_am not---- __             __ ___    _[_Falls._

    +Phil.+_Thou hast_spoken true, thou art not---- What art thou?
__  But_I am for Verona.     _     _  ___   _     _     _      _[_Exit._

    +Slave.+ Mine_own words catch me: 'tis_I now_understand,
    When_we think death_farthest off,_he's nearest hand._     _ [_Dies._

 _     __  ___ _  __ __    _Enter +Lorenzo+._

__  +Lor.+ She lives not, sure,_in Milan! report but_wore
_   Her_usual habit when she told_in Verona
    She_met Abstemia_here. O_Abstemia,
    How lovely thou look'st now! now thou_appearest
    Chaster than_is the morning's modesty,
_ __That rises with_a_blush, over_whose bosom
    The western_wind creeps_softly. Now I remember
  _ How, when she_sat_at table, her obedient eye
 _  Would dwell on mine,_as if it were not_well,
__  Unless it look'd_where I look'd. O, how proud
_  _She was, when she could cross herself_to_please me!
    But_where_now is this fair soul? like_a_silver_cloud,
    She_hath wept herself, I fear, into_th' dead sea,
    And will be_found no more:_this makes me mad,
 ___To rave and call on death; but the slave shrinks,[167]
_ _ And is_as far to find as she. Abstemia,
   _If thou not answer or appear to_knowledge,
    That here with shame I sought thee_in this wood,
    I'll leave_the blushing witness of my blood. _   __      ___[_Exit._

_  _  _  __Enter the_+Duke of Milan+,_+Sebastiano+, +Sanchio+,
_  __                 _     and_the +Lord+._

   _+Mil.+_Followed you him_thus far?

  _ +Lord.+ Just to this place, sir:
 _  The slave he loves left him; here_they_parted.

 _  +Mil.+ Certain,_he has_some private_haunt this way.

_ _ +Seb.+_Ha! private_indeed, sir: O, behold and see
 __ Where he lies full of wounds!

  __+Lord.+_My_lord.

  _ +