University of Virginia Library

Scæna Quarta.

Enter Silvio, and Belvidere severally.
Sil.
Haile reverent Dame, heaven wait upon thy studies.

Bel.
You are well met Son: what is the Battell ended?

Sil.
Mother, 'tis done.

Bel.
How has thy honour prosper'd?

Sil.
The Dutchesse has the day, Syenna's Prisoner:
Arm'd with thy powerfull Art, this arme dismounted him,
Receiv'd him then on foot, and in faire valour
Forc'd him mine owne, this Iewell I tooke from him,
It hung upon his cask, the Victors triumph:
And to the Dutchesse now a Prisoner
I have renderd him: Come off againe unknown, Mother.

Bel.
'Tis well done, let me see the jewell Son;
'Tis a rich one, curious set, fit a Princesse Burgonet:
This rich token late was sent, by the Dutchesse with intent
The Marriage next day to begin: Do'st thou know what's hid within?
Wipe thine eyes, and then come neere, see the beautious Belvidere:
Now behold it.

Sil.
O my Saint.

Bel.
Weare it nobly, do not faint.

Sil.
How blest am I in this rich spoile, this picture,
For ever will I keep it here, here Mother,
For ever honour it: how oft, how chastly
Have I embrac'd the life of this, and kist it?

Bel.
The day drawes on that thou must home returne,
And make thy answer to the Dutchesse question
I know it troubles thee, for if thou faile in't—

Sil.
O, I must dye.

Bel.
Feare not, feare not, ile be nigh,
Cast thy trouble on my back, art nor cunning shall not lack
To preserve thee, still to keepe, what thy envious foemen seeke;
Go boldly home, and let thy minde, no distrustfull crosses finde:
All shall happen for the best; souls walk through sorrowes that are blest.

Sil.
Then I go confident.

Bel.
But first my Son, a thankfull service must be done,
The good old woman for her paine, when every thing stands faire againe,
Must ask a poore Boon, and that granting, there's nothing to thy journey wanting.

Sil.
Except the triall of my soul to mischief,
And as I am a Knight, and love mine honour,
I grant it whatsoever.

Bel.
Thy pure soule
Shall never sinke for me, nor howle.

Sil.
Then any thing.

Bel.
When I shall aske remember.

Sil.
If I forget, heavens goodnesse forget me.

Bel.
On thy journey then a while, to the next crosse way and stile
Ile conduct thee, keepe thee true, to thy Mistris and thy vow,
And let all their envies fall, ile be with thee and quench all.

Exeunt.