 | The Partiall Law |  |
51
Actus Tertius.
Scena Prima.
The King, Philocres, Lords with Attendants.King.
In faith Prince you have mist the bravest sport
Perhaps you ever saw. What say you, Lords?
Flew not the Hawkes all well? all passing well?
Besides the evening was so calme, the game
So plentiful, that in good sooth my Lord
I'm sorry you did misse your share thereof.
Gar.
'Twas pastime fitted for a King, and he
Who fayrely by your Majesty invited
Forbeare to come did not deserve the sight.
Phil.
Sir, first, I humbly begge your Highnesse pardon,
Then yours, my Lords. The knave my man, who went
To fetch my horse, loytred so long till I
Thought it had beene too late to overtake you,
Besides there past some serious discourse
'Twixt me and Bellamour, in which some houres
E're we were well aware on't, slip't away.
King.
'Twas well remembered; I doe wonder much
I saw not Bellamour all yesternight
Nor yet to day, he is not us'd t'absent
Himselfe so long away from me; to whom
He knowes his company is always wellcome.
Saw you him lately, Lords? Lord Garamont
You are most inward with him; what's the cause
He hath not yet to day appear'd in Court?
Gar.
Late yesternight so please your Majesty
I saw him, not since then, and then he was
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I ever saw.
King.
Sad and disconsolate!
Ha! what's the matter? hide it not from me,
For by my life I so much love his worth,
As I should grieve to see him sad, and if
It lyes within my pow're to helpe him, what
Soever be the cause of this his griefe,
I'ngage mine honour I will see't remoov'd,
And him restor'd unto his former health
Of minde. Therefore if you do know the cause
Speake it in his behalf, that so our Grace
May come upon him unexpected.
Gar.
Sir,
I could not learne the cause, do what I could.
(Aside)
(Pardon me, conscience, if I tell a lye)
But with perswasions and meanes I us'd
I left him much more quiet than before.
King.
I'le know it whatsoe'er it be: I know
He'll not conceale't from me: who waytes without?
Enter Groome.
Sirra, you, goe finde out Bellamour his lodging straight,
Tell him we greet him well, and much desire
His Company, and if he be not busy
Bring him along with you, make haste.
Groome.
I'm gone.
Phil.
(aside)
I thought 'twould be a bitter pille to swallow
King.
What's that you say, my Lord?
Phil.
I say perhaps
H'as swallowed down some pilles to worke away
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King.
I'm resolv'd
If he be not in case to come to me
I'le goe to him, for I do sit on thornes
'Till I doe know what 'tis that troubles him,
And when I know't, then I shall be as much
Perplex't till I have eas'd him of his griefe:
But see the Messenger's return'd, what newes my friend?
How fares our Bellamour?
Groome.
I know not Sir.
King.
How's that? you know not Sir, wherefore I pray
Were you sent to him?
Groome.
Sir, he's not within,
Nor hath not been in's chamber since the clocke
Strucke five.
King.
Who told thee so, thou nightcrow? say.
Groome.
His man, so't please my Liege.
King.
What said he more?
How did he rest last night?
Groome.
Sir, I did aske
His man who waytes upon him in his chamber,
What was the cause of his so earely rising?
His man reply'de he did not rise at all,
For he who did not goe to bed
Cannot be said to rise.
King.
How witty all
These Rascalls are in tort'ring with delayes;
Why went he not to bed? My soul prophetique
Foretells some dire event; I am afraid
To aske, for feare of hearing some ill newes.
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All I could learne, Sir, was that he came in
Much later than of usuall, last night,
Was very sad, and overheard to say
That he would not outlive th'ensuing day,
That after having oft'times measur'd out
His chambers length with walking o're and o're
With armes acrosse and eyes fixt on the ground,
As soone as 'twas broad day he left the roome,
And follow'd by his man, he beat him backe,
Threatning to kill him, if he straight-way not
Went to his chamber; charging him to stay
'Till he return'd, which might be should be never.
His man though did pursue him with his eye
Untill he saw him out o'th'gate, which leades
To the Sea-side. Now Sir, you have the whole.
King.
And in that whole much more than I desire.
Lords, hasten after him, pursue with speede,
Take every one a severall way, and he
Whose lucke it is to bring him backe to me,
Shall from my 'Chequer for a boone receive
Tenne thousand Duckets, for if he be lost
The cause not know'en, never was king so crost.
(Exit.
Gar.
Nay feare not but the cause shall soone be know'en;
If ought of ill betide him what a foole
Was I so soone to leave him, yet I had
His honour plighted hee'd appease himselfe
Before I left him, but what will you more?
No salve is to be found for such a sore.
(Exit.
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Scena Secunda.
Florabella sola.Flo.
Pray heavens my troubled thoughts forbode no ill,
There's somewhat heere within that pantes and beates
And will not suffer me to be in quiet,
But I will strive to pacifie my selfe
For if I give this humour too much reynes
I feele 'twill grow upon me: 'twas a dreame
And may it vanish like a dreame, for they
Are rather semblances of hopes or feares
Caus'd by the daye's preceding fantasies
Than signes of truth in ought that is to come;
And yet the soule sleepes not, though senses sleepe
But rather may be term'd to be the more
Awake, by how much it less troubled is
By the false formes of sense which then doe sleep.
Besides, there sure was somewhat more in it
Than dreame; me thinkes I yet see Bellamour
When as the other threw his cloake about
His eyes, and having hoodwinck't him, to which
He freely did give way, (for had I dream'd
T'had beene by force, I had sworne t'had been a lye,
And not have credited ought else therein.)
Me thought he then pluck't out his heart and cring'd,
And scrap'd to it, kist it, and hug'd it close,
At this me thought, my Bellamour did see
Though hoodwinck't, and although his heart was taken
From forth his breast and courted by another,
Yet he look't on till suddenly he fell,
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And found my selfe all in a clammy sweat,
Shaking as does the Sea when calmely blow'en on.
It addes unto my feares that he hath not
As yet to day perform'd his usuall visit,
He had not wont to be so long away.
Enter Lucina.
Luc.
What Madame? talking to your selfe alone?
May I be happy to partake thereof?
Flo.
Lucina, heard you me not talke last night?
Talke in my sleep I meane.
Luc.
No truely Madame,
(aside)
I'de other fish to frye.
Flo.
I had a dreame;
The strangest one er'e heard on.
Luc.
(aside)
I, a vision
For sure 'twas more than dreame; there was in mine
Realityes, and those so rarely pleasing
As if it were or dreame or vision,
I would have wish't t'have dream'd out all my life.
Flo.
It seemes your senses all were busied,
Or you must needes have felt me shake.
Luc.
She might
Have gi'n't the other word and not have lyed.
Why shake, deare Madame? was your dreame so harsh?
So full of terrour? may I know what 'twas?
Flo.
Alas! I have forgot it; more than that
I'm sure 'twas ghastly, full of horror, such
As yet I cannot blot out of my minde.
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The worse the better; dreames are always read
Like Hebrew backwards; good if they be bad
Is to be hoped for; bad, if they be good.
Therefore pluck up your spirits, what? cast downe
For drowsy sleepy fancyes? see, here comes
Your women, they missing of you within
Enter two Women.
Are come to seeke you; how say you pretty ones
Is it not so?
Fiducia.
Yes Madame, we were told
Her Grace was walk't forth this way, so we made
What haste we could to follow after her.
Luc.
'Twas done like careful wenches, now y'are come
See what you can invent to cheere your Lady.
She's wondrous sad, tell her some merry tales.
Nigretta.
There's some of us perhaps have greater cause
To be chear'd up our selves than she. Promise and fayle!
Make me sit up all night! Expect in vayne!
But if I not revenge my selfe—
Flo.
Who was't?
What promis'd? wherein did he fayle?
Nig.
My Taylor Madame promised to take
Measure last night of me for a new gowne
Which I must weare on Sunday, and the knave
Made me sit up all night, yet never came,
So as to boote with losse of expectation
I shall not have my gowne made tyme enough
For me to weare, and wayte on you to Church.
Flo.
'Twas not a mourning gowne he was to make?
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A mourning gown? marry the Lord forbid!
'Tis a Carnation sattin gowne, cutt upon white
Lay'd o're with silver lace. But Madame, pray
What meanes your Grace to talke of mourning gownes?
Flo.
Perhaps you may have neede of such a one
E're then, to wayte on me unto my grave,
For sure I have not long to live; I feele
A sad benumming chilnesse seize my soule
Which does prognosticate my end to be
Neerer than you imagine.
Fid.
Heavens forbid!
I never saw her Grace in such a moode,
She's wondrous pale; Madame how does your Grace?
You looke as if you were not well; perhaps
This ayre's too cold; please it your Grace goe in?
Nig.
Madame, deare Madame, cast not down your selfe
With sad imaginations; what can't be
That troubles you? make us partakers of it;
You know not what unthought of remedyes
Lyes sometimes hidden in a woman's breast.
Luc.
What? not a word? deare Lady speake some comfort,
'Tis more than strange a dreame should cause all this.
Flo.
What would you have me say? I am posses't
With such a sudden seizure of my spirits
As that I hardly able am to speake.
There's sure some strange thing towards of disaster,
Pray let's goe in, and there obey the fates.
Fid.
Hold her by th'other hand Nigretta: she
Needes all our helpes: 'would she were well in bed.
The like to this I never heard nor read.
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Nig.
What saucy fellowe's this? do you not see
The Princesse? that you passe so rudely by
Without respect jostling her as you goe.
Mess.
The Princesse? Is this then Florabella
Princesse of Corsica?
Nig.
Yes marry is't,
What foole are you that do not know the Princesse?
Mess.
'Tis her I came to seeke.
Fid.
Sir if you have
Any affayres with her y'had best forbeare
The making of them know'en till she be better,
You see she's not in case to give you hearing.
Mess.
I must be heard and will; I doe not come
To sue for any thing but to performe
The last commands of one that's lately dead.
Flo.
Ha! what's that? dead! stand off, my spirits now
Returne, enabling me to undergoe
The shocke of what bad newes soe're he brings,
Speake on my friend, for I will give you hearing.
You spoke of one was dead, say, did you not?
Mess.
Madame I did, and (with your patience)
Must speake it o're again, 'tis the last will
And Testament made by a dying man
And I th'executor who must see't fulfilled.
Flo.
Discharge your selfe of that your trust at large
Forget not the least circumstance, be sure
You doe it faithfully; nought can be worse
Than to deceive the trust o'th'dead.
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Who e're
Saw such strange sudden contrarietyes?
She who but now scarce able was to goe
Seemes now more vigorous than ever before
I have know'en her be, there's some strange businesse in't.
Mess.
Then Madame to obey both him and you.
As I this morning early on my way
Was this wayes travelling, I saw a man
Standing o'th'top of a high craggy cliffe
Which overhangs the Sea: this man saw me,
For overthwart the rocke my way did lie,
He beck'néd first, then louder cry'd unto me,
As I did ever hope for courtesie
In time of neede, that I to him would now
Afford my Companie for some small time,
This he redoubled often, insomuch
As though my businesse did require some haste
I therewith did dispense and went to him.
When I was got to th'top I might perceive
In his pale face death ghastly pourtray'd forth.
I hastened my pace: being come nigh
He drew his sword, pointed it towards me,
Charg'd me to come no neerer, least I would
Meete by the way with death; this said, he put
This chayne on his sword point.
Flo.
Ay me! Ay me!
Mess.
Tos't it from thence to me, gave me in charge
To finde out Princesse Florabella, her
Whose love he had preferr'd before his life,
He bade me give it her from one whom she
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And tell her that the having seene too much,
(Thrice happy he if he had never seene)
Caus'd him to this; this said he threw himselfe
Backward into the Sea, where I him saw
Plung'd under water.
(The Princesse sinkes downe.
Fid.
Helpe, helpe, she is gone.
And we for ever miserable.
Nig.
Rubbe
Her temples, pulle her by the nose. Alas!
Goe fetch some water, bow her body forwards;
What shall we doe? would thou hadst been borne dumb
Thou scritch owle.
(She reviveth.
Fid.
Rubbe hard, she comes againe, Madame, deare Madame,
Speake and speake comfort.
Flo.
How can you expect
Comfort from her to whom yourselves do use
Such Tyranny as to recall a life
Tenne times more bitter than tenne thousand deaths.
If ever you do covet true content
And hope to crowne your wishes with fruition,
Be merciful and suffer me to dye:
I do conjure you in your Mistrisse name,
Her whom you ought t'obey; shew but in this
Your due obedience, and for evermore
In all things after freely I acquit you.
Nig.
When she is dead, she'll seeke no further service,
There's yet some end prefix't to servitude;
But oh! she's gone againe; Fiducia your hand,
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Into her lodging, put her in her bed,
This ayre's too piercing; friend to make amends
For what y'have done amisse, haste to the Court,
Tell the first gentleman you meete, how that
The Princesse Florabell is fallen sicke,
And with him send the Doctours to her chamber.
Mess.
Lady, I will, and truely I am sad
To see my message have successe so bad.
Scena Tertia.
Garamont, Arnaldo, Montalto.Gar.
I have sought East as far as Land permits,
Inquired in every place, and yet can heare
No tidings of him.
Arn.
Well met Garamont,
Heare you yet any newes of Bellamour?
Gar.
Not I, doe you know any?
Arn.
Faith nor I,
Yet I have sought him Westward to the mountaines,
Here comes two more, perhaps they may
Have met with him. Montalto, is it you
Have wonne the boone? the King's tenne thousand crownes.
Mon.
No by this hand, not I, yet I have sought
As one would seeke a needle 'mongst the rushes.
I dare not see the King till he be found.
Gar.
None of us heare of him, sure he is sunke.
But heere comes one, I'le goe inquire of him.
Sir—
63
Mess.
Sir, by your leave, 'tis I must first be heard,
My errand is of greater consequence.
Are any of you Courtiers?
Gar.
Yes all.
Mess.
Then haste and send Physitians to the Princesse,
She is gone sicke to bed.
Arn.
Gone sicke to bed!
What is the cause and how came you to know it?
Mess.
To answer why, and what and how, I knew it
Will be but to repeate that o're againe
Which I could wish had beene as yet conceal'd,
Besides the repetition may prolong
The Princesse succours; therefore pray make haste
To send the speediest helpe; soone enough
You all may heare what you'll be sorry for.
(Exit.
Gar.
What meanes this bird of midnight? heaven forbid
My feares prove true.
Arn.
Nay I will after too,
I know nor what to hope nor feare.
Mon.
E're long
Whate're it be will publickely be know'en,
If good, then soone enough, if bad too soone.
(Exeunt.
Enter Serving Men.
1. Man.
What can the matter be my maisters? I n'ere saw
a house turn'd topsy turvy so on the sudden; nothing yesterday
but tilting and revelling, nothing to day but finger in the
eye and lamentable complayning.
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Why man, they say my yong mistresse, the Lady
Florabella, is not well, and can you then blame all the young
gallants to hang their heads? Nay, they say the good old
King too in sufficiently unsensified.
3. Man.
The King out of his wits! the King mad! beare
witnesse fellow Roger, if this be not downeright treason, I
know not what's what.
2. Man.
Why goodman Jobernoll, you'll give me leave to
misinterpret my selfe. I mean insenst, and that's a word
surpasses your understanding, I wis.
3. Man.
Nay, if you speake what I understand not I crave
your mercy, Sir, I am sure then I am not guilty of any fault,
if any such be therein.
1. Man.
For what concerns faults doubtlesly there are
enough in us all, therefore never fall out concerning that. I
am sure, though some vertue went from me last night, 'twas
no vertuous act my neighbour's daughter and I were
employed in; she appointed another meeting e're long, but
if matters mend not, our daunce by my good will shall be to
the tune of Lachrimy, though played on the baggepipe, as
well that we may follow the fashion in dauncing to a lamentable
tune as also that we may shew some compunction for our
late misdemeanour.
3. Man.
Nay, soft, fellow Roger, by your leave, I'le taste
the sweet, as belike you have done, before I trye the sowre;
sweet meate they say, indeede must have sowre sauce. But
marke, I pray, the sweet goes before the sowre, the meate
before the sauce, not I, I thanke you, I have yet onely had
faire promises, and promise is no performance.
2. Man.
I would I could but performe as fairely as my lasse
65
hand with the best of you, but alas! alas!
3. Man.
God sends a curst cow short hornes, you would
say, would you not?
2. Man.
Faith much thereabouts, but they say he's an
errant Jade, that can neither wihye nor wagge his tayle,
therefore I'le not fayle to meete my mayde Maryon at the
great oake at the time appointed.
3. Man.
The great oake, marry that is the place my minion
appointed to meete me at.
1. Man.
The time?
(they whisper)
, good lassies, in faith
all's made of the same metall, how they jumpe together in
their appointments, hearke you Sirras, and you say the word,
let us practise the Catch we learn'd the other day, that we
may be ready in it when we meete with our Myrmidonians, and
then catch who catch may.
(They sing a Catch.
Scena Quarta.
Garamont, Montalto.Gar.
Nay, seeke not to disswade me, you as soone
May with your fingers bend the aged oake,
Coole Autumn with your breath, or therewithall
Enforce the winde back to its hollow cave,
As change in me my resolution.
Mon.
But yet a little patience: doe you heare
How she takes on? how she doeth tear her hayre,
Wring hands, denye her selfe all nourishment?
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Thinke you if she were guilty, or had not
As dearely loved Bellamour as he
Doted on her, she could dissemble thus?
Gar.
Bugge-beares to cozzen boyes withall; to me
All this you say makes her appeare more blacke,
More fowly guilty; is there any thing
Can bite like to the sting of conscience?
And 'tis my comfort in my friend's behalfe,
My dead, my too much injur'd friend's behalfe,
To see her so tormented.
Enter to them King, Arnaldo, Argales, Philocres, with Attendants.
King.
He was to blame, not for that he aspir'd
So high as dare to love my Florabell,
But for that
He did conceale his love, had he made me
Acquainted with it, I should or have had
Disswaded him, and strove t'appease his flame
With wholesome lenitives, or else have given
Her freely to him, for a Gentleman
So bred and so well parted as was he
Is a fit match for any woman.
Phil.
Sir,
The Gods are just and shape their punishments
As men demerit; so have they now quencht
Proud Bellamour's too high aspiring flame.
Arg.
Prince, you may thanke the Gods 'tis as it is,
He'd pluck a feather else with you e'faith,
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Arn.
What meanes Garamont
To struggle so with Lord Montalto?
Gar.
Most mighty Sir, since what I have to say
Must like a pointed dagger pierce your heart,
And yet I needes must say it, 'would 'twere said,
And I were straightway in my Coffin layd.
King.
What mighty burden travells he withall?
Out with it, Garamont, you had not wont
To be so moov'd with trifles; I'm prepar'd
Be't what it will to give you patient hearing.
Gar.
And you had neede of patience, Sir, to heare it,
Were't not my friend, my best friend Bellamour
That bids me on, bids me go boldly on,
To see his injur'd love, his death reveng'd,
I'd sooner bite my tongue out than relate
So dismall tydings, Sir, as this will prove,
But the name, friend, annulls other respects,
How many or how great so'ere they be,
Therefore, Sir, take it thus, fayre Florabell
Hath murdered Bellamour.
King.
The man sure raves.
How could she murder him who drown'd himselfe?
Gar.
I'le tell you how Sir; 'tis not now unknowe'n
That Bellamour lov'd Florabell, and I
Though perhaps you not know so much, doe know
She seem'd to meete his love with equall fire,
But her's was counterfeit, celestiall his.
Last night unluckily he light on me,
And as I guesse feareing some Treachery,
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Till he should call; I fearing some mishap
Broke his Command and stole up neerer to him,
Where many minutes had not past, e're we
Might see the Princesse Florabell
Appeare on the Balcony, and throw downe
A silken ladder, by the which straightway
A muffled man climb'd up, and in our sights
Did kisse, embrace, enjoy your Florabell.
King.
Be well advis'd e're you for truth affirme
A businesse of this nature; justly poyse
The consequences which thereon depend;
And suffer not your sorrow so transport you
For your friend's losse, as you may thereby runne
Hazzard of life your selfe; you know the Law;
Recant your rash assertion and in grace
I'le attribute it to transcendent passion.
Gar.
Most mighty Sir, I am not ignorant
Of what weight this my accusation is,
Nor have I rashly run upon't, before
Due consideration had in every point.
I first have thought upon the griefe immense
It must cause in your Majesty, and then
Upon the hatred I shall draw from all
Good men and women on my selfe, nor can
I blame them for it. I should doe the like
To any one were in my case. I know
Your daughter's reputation, held for such
As had not these eyes seene, and these eares heard
What yesternight I did both heare and see,
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My dearest friend's untimely end, I should
Have beene the first would have return'd the lye
Downe the appearing slaunderer's throate. I know
The Law likewise; which doomes to death what mayde
Soe're she be, that is accus'd t'have lost
Her honour, forfeited her name
By knowledge of a man, before 'twixt him
And her the hymenean rights have past:
Unlesse some one will undertake her quarrell
And with his sword in hand e're three dayes passe
Maintayne th'accused virgin's honour 'gainst
Th'accuser, which if he doe overcome
The virgin's set at liberty, and he
That did accuse her justly undergoes
What punishment the law would inflict on her;
But if the undertaker loose the day
Whereby 'tis judg'd th'accuser was i'th'right
The virgin suffers: All this I know,
And Sir, beleeve me, and you Gentlemen,
Whose angry lookes with patience I sustayne,
I'm no less griev'd than you; no lesse incenst
Than you, or any of you 'gainst my selfe,
But should I not performe this latest duty
To my dead friend, I'm 'fraid his ghost would finde
No resting place, whilst I, who know the Cause
Of his disaster seeke not to appease
His wounded soule with coveted revenge.
'Tis therefore Sir (your pardon humbly begg'd
As your's Lords all for this my sad assertion)
70
The world that Florabella's false,
And for the prostitution she hath made
Of her fayre body to the fowler touch
Of man, is by the Lawes ordayn'd to death.
King.
I cannot on the sudden call to minde
Any so haynous sinne by me committed, as might deserve
This height of punishment; but sure the Gods
Are just; to doubt the contrary were to
Provoke them to more dire revenge; and yet
I cannot guesse what more of horrour
Can me betide. But cease, such talke as this
Full ill becomes a Prince's mouth.
Surely they know both what my crime hath beene
Which merited this lash of theirs, and how
Yet more to humble me, if I not take
This their correction calmely: I have drunke
Deepe of their mercyes, tasted more of them
Than many others, for I ne're till now
Saw fortune pourtraited with knitted browes:
Than unaccustom'd to such frownes as this,
Pardon these teares; these obsequies perform'd
To thy dead name my Florabella, now
Let's take such speedy order as we may
For the performance of the Lawes decrees.
Arnaldo, see straight proclamation made
How that my daughter is accus'd, of what,
By whom, and what she is to undergoe
If none in three dayes space her cause maintaine
Against th'accuser, and by vanquishing
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She is to suffer.
Arn.
I'le forthwith see your Majestye's command
In execution put, but I had rather
Have shew'd my forwardnesse, my will to serve you
In ought by thought can be conceiv'd, than this.
Phil.
Be not too much caste downe, most mighty Sir,
I'le pawne my life the Lady's innocent
Of once committing such a thing in thought,
And Garamont's a fowle-mouth'd slanderer.
Gar.
Prince, if you please by hazzard of that life
You'll pawne, to prove me so, the question soone
Will be decided, but if (as much I doubt)
Your acting correspond not with your words
I shall make bold to say y'are a paultry Prince.
Phil.
I should be loath to put so fowle disgrace
Upon this nation, unto which I am
So vow'd a vassall, as to undertake
(Being a stranger) that, which should I doe,
Would much redound to all our nation's shame.
Arn.
How discreete
He's in his apologies, pockes upon him;
O that the fates had pleas'd have dish't in him
For food for Haddockes 'stead of Bellamour!
The King is wondrous sad, nor can I blame him,
It is an humour they which feede upon
Will hardly e're be satisfide with, it needes
No sawse for shoing horne to draw it on;
And therefore best withstand its first assaults.
Sir, pardon, if I interrupt your serious thoughts,
72
Your Majesty not suffer sadnesse seize
Too much your soule; the Gods afflict not thus
But where they love; and surely if you take
This their correction calmely as you ought
Their hand's not short'ned; they will multiply
Blessings equivalent.
King.
How different a thing it is to give
Counsell, and take it. This playster, Patience
Is no fit salve for all sores, mine alas!
Is of a more contagious sort, the part is gangren'd,
Corrosives or sword to cut it off,
Not lenitives must be apply'd; she is my childe,
Thinke but on that, my friend.
Mont.
Sir, we are all your children, you
Father unto us all, Rex pater patriæ,
Your kingdomes wellfare doth depend on your's.
Suffer not then that we your Subjects all,
Your loyall Subjects, by the bad events
Which may ensue on this your melancholly,
Prove Orphans.
King.
Though Kings pay their debt to heaven
The people seldome want a father long.
Mont.
O Sir, but many Ages may passe o're, e're we
Having lost you (which God prohibit) be
Blest with the like. But Sir, methinkes it would
Better become your Majesty to doe, than thinke;
Rowse up your spirits Sir, and let us all
Consult by what blest meanes
We may your daughter free from Calumny.
73
Many eyes see more than one.
King.
I thanke you for
Your wholesome Counsell, which I thus obey.
(Exeunt.
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