 | The Loyal Svbiect |  |
Scæne 3.
Enter Duke and Burris.Duke.
Burris take you ten thousand of those Crowns,
And those two chaines of Pearle they hold the richest,
I give 'em yee.
Bur.
I humbly thanke your grace;
And may your great example worke in me
That noble charity to men more worthy,
And of more wants.
Duke.
You beare a good minde Burris;
Take twenty thousand now: Be not so modest,
It shall be so, I give 'em: goe, there's my ring for't.
Bur.
Heaven blesse your Highnesse ever.
Exit.
Duke.
You are honest.
Enter Alinda, and Putskie at doore.
Puts.
They're comming now to Court, as faire as vertue:
Two brighter starres ne're rose here.
Al.
Peace, I have it,
And what my Art can doe; the Duke—
Put.
I am gone,
Remember.
Exit.
Al.
I am counsell'd to the full sir.
Duke.
My prettie Mistris, whither lyes your businesse?
How kindly I should take this, were it to me now?
Al.
I must confesse immediately to your grace,
At this time.
Du.
You have no addresse, I doe believe ye,
I would yee had.
Al.
'Twere too much boldnesse Sir,
Upon so little knowledge, lesse deserving.
Du.
You'll make a perfect Courtier.
Al.
A very poore one.
Du.
A very faire one sweet: come hither to me.
What killing eyes this wench has? in his glorie
Not the bright Sun, when the Sirian starre reignes,
Shines halfe so fierie.
Al.
Why does your grace so view me?
Nothing but common handsomenesse dwells here sir,
Scarce that: your grace is pleas'd to mock my meanness.
Du.
Thou shalt not goe: I doe not lie unto thee,
In my eye thou appear'st—
Al.
Dim not the sight sir,
I am too dull an object.
Duke.
Canst thou love me?
Canst thou love him will honour thee?
Al.
I can love,
And love as you doe too: but 'twill not shew well:
Or if it doe shew here where all light lustres,
Tinsell affections, make a glorious glistering,
Twill halt ith' handsome way.
Du.
Are yee so cunning?
Dost think I love not truely?
Al.
No, ye cannot,
You never travell'd that way yet: pray pardon me,
I prate so boldly to you.
Du.
There's no harme done:
But what's your reason, sweet?
Al.
I would tell your grace,
But happily—
Du.
It shall be pleasing to me.
Al.
I should love you again, & then you would hate me.
37
And through all dangers.
Du.
This would more provoke me,
More make me see thy worthes,
More make me meet 'em.
Al.
You should doe so, if yee did well and truely.
But though yee be a Prince, and have power in ye,
Power of example too, ye have fail'd and falter'd.
Du.
Give me example where?
Al.
You had a Mistris,
Oh heaven, so bright, so brave a dame, so lovely,
In all her life so true.
Du.
A Mistris?
Al.
That serv'd yee with that constancy, that care,
That lov'd your will, and woo'd it too.
Du.
What Mistris?
Al.
That nus'rd your honour up, held fast your vertue,
And when she kist encreas'd, not stole your goodnesse.
Du.
And I neglected her?
Al.
Lost her, forsook her,
Wantonly slung her off.
Du.
What was her name?
Al.
Her name as lovely as her selfe, as noble,
And in it all that's excellent.
Du.
What was it?
Al.
Her name was Beau-desert:
Doe you know her now sir?
Du.
Beau-desert? I not remember—
Al.
I know you doe not:
Yet she has a plainer name; Lord Archas service;
Do you yet remember her? there was a Mistris
Fairer then women, far fonder to you sir,
Then Mothers to their first-borne joyes: Can you love?
Dare you professe that truth to me a stranger,
A thing of no regard, no name, no lustre,
When your most noble love you have neglected,
A beautie all the world would wooe and honour?
Would you have me credit this? thinke ye can love me,
And hold ye constant, when I have read this storie?
Is't possible you should ever favour me,
To a slight pleasure prove a friend, and fast too,
When, where you were most ty'd, most bound to benefit,
Bound by the chaines of honesty and honour,
You have broke and boldly too? I am a weak one,
Arm'd onely with my feares: I beseech your Grace
Tempt me no further.
Du.
Who taught you this Lesson?
Al.
Woefull experience Sir: if you seek a faire one,
Worthy your love, if yet you have that perfect,
Two daughters of his ruin'd vertue now
Arive at Court, excellent faire indeed sir,
But this will be the plague on't, they'r excellent honest.
Enter Olimpia and Petesca privately.
Duk.
I love thy face.
Al.
Upon my life yee cannot.
I doe not love it my selfe Sir, 'tis a lewd one,
So truely ill Art cannot mend it; 'sod if 'twere handsome,
At least if I thought so, you should heare me talke sir
In a new straine; and though ye are a Prince,
Make ye Petition to me too, and wait my answers;
Yet o my conscience I should pitty yee,
After some ten yeares siege.
Du.
Prethee doe now.
Al.
What would ye doe?
Du.
Why I would lye with yee.
Al.
I doe not think yee would.
Du.
Introth I would wench.
Here, take this Jewell.
Al.
Out upon't that's scurvee.
Nay, if we doe, sure wee'll doe for good fellowship,
For pure love, or nothing: thus you shall be sure sir
You shall not pay too deare for't.
Duke.
Sure I cannot.
Alin.
By'r Lady but yee may: when ye have found me able,
To doe your work well, ye may pay my wages.
Pet.
Why does your Grace start back?
Olim.
I ha' seen that shakes me:
Chills all my bloud: O where is faith or goodnesse?
Alinda thou art false, false, false thou faire one,
Wickedly false; and (woe is me) I see it.
For ever false.
Pet.
I am glad 't has taken thus right.
Exit.
Alin.
Ile goe aske my Lady, sir.
Du.
What?
Al.
Whether I shall lye with ye, or no: If I find he willing—
For look ye sir, I have sworn, while I am in her service—
('Twas a rash oath I must confesse.)
Duke.
Thou mockst me.
Al.
Why, would yee lye with me, if I were willing?
Would you abuse my weaknesse?
Du.
I would peece it,
And make it stronger.
Al.
I humbly thank your highnesse,
When you piece me, you must piece me to my Coffin:
When you have got my Maiden-head, I take it,
'Tis not an inch of an Apes taile will restore it;
I love ye, and I honour yee, but this way
Ile neither love nor serve yee:
Heaven change your minde sir.
Exit.
Duke.
And thine too:
For it must be chang'd, it shall be.
Exit.
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