t Duke and brothers and Fred_.

_Enter Otho_.

_Otho_. Yonder she goes, the mirrour of her sexe.--
Stay, beauteous _Euphrata_.

_Euph. Otho_! what, _Julia_?

_Ju_. Here, madam! what's your will?

_Euph_. Call _Constantine_;
Tell him his deare friend _Otho_ is return'd.

_Ju_. I will.

_Otho_. Stay, _Julia_.

_Euph_. Doe as I bid you, goe. [_Exit Julia_.

_Otho_. I had rather have a word or twaine with you.

_Euph_. I have heard him oft enquire for thee his friend,
I have heard him sigh, I have seene him weepe for thee,
Imagining some mischiefe or distresse
Had falne thee since the closets separation.

_Otho_.--And what a slave am I to wrong this friend!

_Enter Constantine and Julia_.

_Con_. Where is he?

_Ju_. Here.

_Con_. The welcom'st man alive.
Unkind, how couldst thou stay from me so long?

_Otho_. I have bin ill at ease, pray pardon me;
But I rejoyce to see my friend so well.

_Euph_. Some Ladies love hath made him melancholy.

_Otho_. Shee hath read the letter that I lately sent her
In a pomegranat, by those words I hope.

_Con_. Why speake you not? is't love or melancholy?

_Otho_. If upon love my grief is melancholy?

_Con_. Ile have the best Phisitians here in _Meath_
Assay by art to cure that maladie.

_Euph_. Gainst mellancholy minds your onely Phisick
Our Saxon doctors hold that principle.
Now I remember you did lately send me
A choice pomegranate; fetch it, _Julia_.
Some of those graines well stir'd in _Gascoine_ wine
Is present remedie.

_Otho_. Madam, Ile none:
Of all fruits, that I hate.

_Euph_. And commended it
So highly by the messenger that brought it!

_Con_. Twas well remembred, you shall take a graine.

_Otho_. You will but vexe me.

_Con_. So his melancholly
Doth make him froward with his dearest friend.

_Enter Julia with the pomegranate_.

Tis well done, _Julia_, quickely cut it up;
And bring a cup of wine, or let me doo't.

_Otho_. I see I shall be plagu'd with mine owne wit;
Being asham'd to speake, I writ my minde.--
Were you my friends, you would not martyr me
With needlesse phisicke; fie upon this trash,
The very sight is loathsome.

_Con_. Take it up:
But let me see, what letter's that that dropt?
Came it from you, or from the _Spanish_ fruit?

_Ju_. Tis all the graines that the pomegranate had.

_Con_. Then theres some trechery within these graines:
Ile breake it up.
And tis directed to my _Euphrata_.

_Euph_. Wha