 | The Sad One |  |
16
Scæn. 2.
Enter Parmenio, Lorenzo.Par.
In deep security, my Lord,
The Lady's at one window courted;
The King with Florelio and the Favorite
Contriving of a Masque, which he must never see.
Lor.
Good! which he must never see.
Oh thou dost hug my Fates:
How I am ravisht to think upon
Ensuing joys!—
Parmenio, he's dead already.
Par.
Six hours ago, my Lord, you cannot think
How much ado I had to keep my self
From saying, And't shall please your Majesty,
Ith' open presence to you:
Methinks one while I see your Highness sit
Like Jupiter in state,
With all the petty gods about you;
And then again in a more tempting shape
Then was the shower of gold,
Lie in some Danae's lap
More wanton then Europa's Bull;
Another time with some great train,
As if you went to battel,
Rockt in a douny coach, go take the air,
And have the thronging City
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Looking along to bless your eyes,
And striving who shall cry loudest,
God bless your Majesty!
Lor.
And all the while thou, like my Ganimede,
Shalt taste Ambrosia with me, while the petty gods
Burst with repining at thy happiness:
Thou shalt dispose of all, create, displace,
Be call'd my Boy, revel and mask, what not?
Oh, for one half year I will not speak unto the people,
Take you that office, keep that part for yours.
Oh how I long for night!
Thou canst not name the pleasure
Could make the time not tedious.
Away unto thy watch, and when the King's abed,
Be here.
Par.
I shall, my Lord,
And't please your Majesty, I shall.
Exeunt.
| The Sad One | |