Act 5 — [Scene II.][1078]

Mo. Now shall we see that Nature hath no end In her great works responsive to their worths, That she, that makes so many eyes and souls To see and foresee, is stark blind herself; And as illiterate men say Latin prayers5 By rote of heart and daily iteration, Not knowing what they say,[1079] so Nature lays A deal of stuff together, and by use, Or by the mere necessity of matter, Ends such a work, fills it, or leaves it empty10 Of strength or virtue, error or clear truth, Not knowing what she does; but usually Gives that which she calls merit to a man, And belief must arrive[1080] him on huge riches, Honour, and happiness, that effects his ruin;15 Even as in ships of war, whose lasts[1081] of powder Are laid, men think,[1082] to make them last, and guard them, When a disorder’d spark, that powder taking, Blows up with sudden violence and horror Ships that kept empty; had sail’d long, with terror.[1083]20 Gu. He that observes, but like a worldly man, That which doth oft succeed, and by th’ events Values the worth of things, will think it true That Nature works at random, just with you; But with as much proportion she may make25 A thing that from the feet up to the throat Hath all the wondrous fabric man should have, And leave it headless, for a perfect man, As give a full man valour, virtue, learning, Without an end more excellent than those,30 On whom she no such worthy part bestows. Mo. Yet shall you see it here; here will be one Young, learned, valiant, virtuous, and full mann’d; One on whom Nature spent so rich a hand That with an ominous eye she wept to see35 So much consum’d her virtuous treasury.[1084] Yet, as the winds sing through a hollow tree, And (since it lets them pass through) lets it stand; But a tree solid (since it gives no way To their wild rage) they rend up by the root;40 So this whole man, (That will not wind with every crooked way, Trod by the servile world) shall reel and fall Before the frantic puffs of blind-born chance, That pipes through empty men, and makes them dance.45 Not so the sea raves on the Lybian sands, Tumbling her billows in each other’s neck; Not so the surges of the Euxine sea (Near to the frosty pole, where free Boötes From those dark deep waves turns his radiant team)50 Swell, being enrag’d even from their inmost drop, As Fortune swings about the restless state Of virtue, now thrown into all men’s hate. Enter Montsurry disguis’d with the Murderers. Away, my lord, you are perfectly disguis’d,54 Leave us to lodge your ambush. Mont. Speed me, vengeance. Exit. Mo. Resolve, my masters, you shall meet with one Will try what proofs your privy coats[1085] are made on; When he is ent’red, and you hear us stamp, Approach, and make all sure. Murd. We will, my lord. Exeunt.