 | The Queen of Corsica |  |
Scena 12a.
Florimond. Nato«lio»nFlo
Good my Lord
Doe not still heape up fresh Disgraces on mee,
I haue as many full as I can beare;
If I grow troublesom unto yor state
Murther mee plainely, or say I am a Trayt
And doe not make you Sport at my Misfortunes
Nat
True and undoubted King of Corsica,
Haile.
45
Doe not make mee madd,
Doe not my Lord. Although your Queen was Pleas'd
To make mee the great Mirrour of Contempt
It was noe will in mee to be a King,
Which since I am in right of my Sadd wrong
You should remember some Respect is Due here.
Nat.
Sr you are King in yor owne right, not hers
And you shall take't upon you
Cal.
And Loose my Head
This is a peece of state indeed
Nat.
Will you in?
Cal.
I'm not acquainted wt h yor Plotts of State
Good my Lord, what meane you? your Bare head
Is worse then insolence to [you] mee. Do not mock mee.
Nat.
Haue you noe Beleife? I'le draw you hence.
Cal.
On what Uncertaine Seas does poore man Saile?
A Billow Carries him to Plutoes Barres,
And then anon rebounds him 'gainst the Starres
Nat.
Come, I'le undoe the Ridle.
| The Queen of Corsica | |