Why shew you signe of inward languishments?

PEDRINGANO sheweth all to the PRINCE and
LORENZO, placing them in secret.

BEL. My hart, sweet freend, is like a ship at sea:
She wisheth port, where, riding all at ease,
She may repaire what stormie times haue worne,
And, leaning on the shore, may sing with ioy
That pleasure followes paine, and blisse annoy.
Possession of thy loue is th' onely port
Wherein my hart, with feares and hopes long tost,
Each howre doth wish and long to make resort,
There to repaire the ioyes that it hath lost,
And, sitting safe, to sing in Cupids quire
That sweetest blisse is crowne of loues desire.

BALTHAZAR, aboue.

BAL. O sleepe, mine eyes; see not my loue prophande!
Be deafe, my ears; heare not my discontent!
Dye, hart; another ioyes what thou deseruest!

LOR. Watch still, mine eyes, to see this loue disioyned!
Heare still, mine eares, to heare them both lament!
Liue, hart, to ioy at fond Horatios fall!

BEL. Why stands Horatio speecheles all this while?

HOR. The lesse I speak, the more I meditate.