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Baldazzar.———Arouse thee now, Politian! Thou must not—nay indeed, indeed, thou shalt not Give way unto these humours. Be thyself! Shake off the idle fancies that beset thee, And live, for now thou diest! Politian. Not so, Baldazzar! Surely I live. Bal. Politian, it doth grieve me To see thee thus. Pol. Baldazzar, it doth grieve me To give thee cause for grief, my honoured friend. Command me, sir! what wouldst thou have me do? At thy behest I will shake off that nature Which from my forefathers I did inherit, Which with my mother's milk I did imbibe, And be no more Politian, but some other. Command me, sir! Bal. To the field then—to the field— To the senate or the field. Pol. Alas! alas! There is an imp would follow me even there! There is an imp hath followed me even there! There is——what voice was that? Bal. I heard it not. I heard not any voice except thine own, And the echo of thine own.