University of Virginia Library

Scena Prima.

Lucina, Philocres.
Luc.
This your misfortune Sr. in being unhors't,
And that so unluckily by Bellamour,
Will more estrange your mistrisse heart from you,
And settle it more firme on him;
Therefore at length be wise and leave to follow
An untam'd savage beauty, which the more
You doe pursue, the more obdurate growes;
And chuse some other Mistrisse: some who may
Without or cost of sigh, or losse of teare
Be wrought unto your will, some one who will
As fast runne after you, as you do after her,
The pleasure is the same, the payne far less.

Phil.
(to himself)
She's strucke already, fastned in the net.
And if I draw her not to land, and make
Her serve for baite to catch more gudgions by
My cunning fayles me.

Luc.
Sir, did you but know
The sweetes of love, the delicates thereof,
When two breasts fully fraught, doe intershocke
And meet each other; vying which of them
Should outdoe other in expressions
Not only verball but reallityes;
You would repent you had so late embrac't
My wholesome counsell, and be sorry for
Your time misspent.
Trye it but once; you know not what it is
Till you have triall made; if try'de you like
It not, with ease you may fall off againe.

Phil.
There's none but common flesh will care for me,
Such as will play the after game, as well
With footboyes, as with me the foregame,
Now that I have been baffl'd, beate to ground
By Bellamour.

Luc.
Sir, you do injure much
Your selfe, and those that as your servants love you,
By ballancing your selfe with Bellamour.
'Tis true h'ath had the better of the day,
But you may have the better of the night.
I know a Lady (though myselfe doe say't)
That loves you dearely, dearer then her eyes;
Then all the world together put, and you
Exempted thence, then as you'd pitty moove
In other's breast, let it moove first in your's.

Phil.
Why that Parenthesis? why (though yourselfe doe say't?)
'Twill not prove you, deare Madame? will't? say.

Luc.
Alas! alas! I have at unawares
Betray'd my self, but what remedy? fire
Will out, and though long time rak't up in ashes
It inwardly doeth burne the more; and doeth
When it breakes forth break forth in greater flame.
Sir, 'tis too late to cloake my love, since you
Have gues't at it aright; 'tis I that am
The party speaking, and the spoken for.
Nor doe I blush at it; men are not deem'd
For wise nor provident, who in a case
That much concerns them, when they may themselves
Without controll have their accesse unto
The Judge or Prince's eares doe though employ
Some other on their errand; y'are my Prince
The Judge fore whom my cause is to be heard
And censured; in your hands doeth lye
The only power to bid me live or dye.
Why then should I be blamed, or any one
For doing that, to do the contrary
To which were folly and they fooles that doe it.

Phil.
Madame, I'm much bound to your Courtesie,
I wish I may deserve it; but so soone
Quite to forget my Florabella seemes
Harsh and uncouth.

Luc.
Pish! thinke I am she
And 'twill be e'ne as good as if I were.

Pil.
In troth you say aright, 'tis all but thought,
A very meere imagination.
Y'have therefore wonne me, Madame, I am yours,
Yet one thing as a favour, I would faine
Begge at your hand.

Luc.
Speake freely and command.

Phil.
That when you please t'appoint a time of meeting
You'd doe your best in all your actions,
Behaviour and gesture to imitate
My once-loved Florabell; that so I may
Deceive my selfe, and whils't that I doe passe
The time away in dalliance with you,
May thinke it done with her.

Luc.
All this and more:
I'le put on her apparell, the same cloathes
And knots she wore the day before; for as
Her bed-fellow I well enough may doe't.

Phil.
(to himselfe)
How she outrunnes me, she'll not suffer me
To speake, she's surely of the plot
And I not know it; the successe muste needes
Be good, the entrance thereunto's so happy.

Luc.
What's that you mutter to yourselfe my Lord?

Phil.
I say the entrance is so happy as
There's nought but good which can preceede thereon.
But, Madame, say what time will you appoint
And place, for now methinks already
My love to Florabella vanishes,
And fixes here.

Luc.
Name you the place and time.

Phil.
What thinke you on to-morrow night, the place
The Antichamber to the Princess' lodging.
'Tis not amisse; you easily may finde
Some cause of rising from her, there put on
Her cloathes i'th'outward chamber; where perhaps
They're usually lay'd, where I'll not fayle
To meete you.

Luc.
I, but how will you get thither?
Her maydes lye alwayes in the inner roome
And locke the doores when we are both in bed.

Phil.
For that take you no care, 'tis not the first
Love-theft that I have made; as I remember
There's a Balconye-window in that roome
Which looks upon the water; be you there
'Twixt twelve and one at night, and I'll provide
A silken ladder made for such-like feates,
Which you when I am come shall cast me down,
(Always provided th'one-end be made fast
Unto the window) thereby I will climbe
My tower of blisse wherein my Helene is.

Luc.
You must be sure to come alone, I'de not
For all the world have any other know it.

Phil.
Thinke me not so profuse of what's so much
By women valued, reputation.
The Moone shines bright about that hour, yet least
Or you or I may be mistaken when
I'm underneath your window, to my self
I'le say, I wonder what o'clocke it is.
If you be there and all things as they ought
Your answer is, much about two o'clocke,
Thus we are safe, and none can us descry.

Luc.
It seems you are well-practis'd, you so well
Provide for everything thereto belonging;
But if all be agreed clap hands upon't.

Phil.
And lips too, Lady.

Luc.
So, all's very well.
I'le in least this my absence breede suspition:
Stay you a while behinde.

(Exit.
Phil.
Is not this better
Then storming rage? in which perhaps myselfe
Might share as bad as he: thus without noyse
I'll take revenge on Bellamour, and on
His Florabella too in such a sort
As they shall have small cause to thanke me for't.