 | The Sad One |  |
11
Scæn. 4.
Enter Francelia, Bellamino.Franc.
Sir, leave your complement;
Methinks the sweetest speech is that that's meant.
Bell.
Wrong not my Love, best Creature, so, to think
My words are not the true ambassadors
Of my heart; by thy fair self I swear,
Nature has been too partial
In robbing heaven and earth to give you all.
Franc.
Their weaknesses you mean, and I confess my Lord—
Bell.
Their richest graces, sweetest,
Oh do not rack me thus:
I love, can you give love again?
Franc.
Yes, any love that you dare ask,
Or I dare give, my Lord.
Bell.
Oh but, fair Lady, Love must have no bounds,
It pines in prison.
Franc.
Oh but, my Lord, hot Loves, if not contained,
Like fiery meteors, promise no good to others,
And are themselves consum'd.
(Enter the King and Lords attend.)
Bell.
O leave me not in doubts distracting trance.
King.
How, my boy, what, courting!
Bell.
No, Sir.
King.
What was he doing then, Francelia?
12
So please your Grace, he was ith' midst
Of all your praises, when your Highness entred.
Bell.
Hum—
There's yet some hope then.
(Aside.)
King.
Oh you are glad we are come then!
That discourse was tedious.
Franc.
No, my Lord, I should have been well pleased
To have heard him longer.
King.
You are grown a Courtier, Fair one!
Sileo, are the Coaches ready?
Sil.
Yes and't please your Majesty.
King.
Come, we'll abroad then,
This day invites us forth; where's our Queen?
Exeunt.
| The Sad One | |