 | The Partiall Law |  |
Actus Quartus.
Scena Prima.
Fiducia, Nigretta.Nig.
Had ever Lady such a sore disaster?
And she, poore soule, how patiently she takes it!
You never heare her storme nor curse, as I
By this good light should doe, were her case mine;
She onely weepes the losse of Bellamour,
Not mentioning what she her selfe's to loose,
Her life; and what she hath already lost,
Her reputation; but gladded seemes
She shall so soone i'th'other world meete with him,
Where whatsoe're the world shall heere thinke of her,
Or he have thought whilst here deluded; he
Meeting her there, shall know her spotlesse soule,
Which that it might the sooner meete with his
Did e're her noontyde d'off her clayye garments.
Fid.
If there remayne one ounce of worth in mankind
So early she will not disrobbe herselfe.
And were I not assur'd that yet some sparkes
Of fire from heaven descended, did remayne
Within our Corsick's breast (which if there be
Any such heate divine 'twill now breath forth,
74
Whose venemous tongue durst goe about to blast
Our Mistrisse' honour) I say did I not rest
Secure of this I once would weare the breeches
And not despayre, but woman as I am,
Make him doe penance for so fowle a lye.
Nig.
Nay, were it true,—he does deserve
To be with pinnes and needles done to death,
A blabbe! blisters upon his tongue.
Can he not see others fare well, but he
Must crye out rost meate; a pockes upon him.
He should have beene with me that very night,
I long in vayne expected; but he belike
Was plotting this damn'd treachery, for which
May he live long, and loath'd of all looke on him.
Fid.
May people point at him, may the pockes
Cleave to his bones.
Nig.
Nay, may he never
Know so much pleasure as must precede
That curse.
Fid.
May his desires be longing,
His aym'd at happinesse some piece of flesh
Who hath serv'd 'prentiship in Malta Gallyes.
Nig.
And when he comes t'enjoy this hop't for blisse
May he for disabilitye be kick't downe stayres
And wellcom'd with a brok'n necke to th'bottome.
Fid.
May he be buried in some brothell house.
Nig.
Ä ballet be his epitaph, and that
Sung by some pocky flatt-nos'd whore.
Fid.
May—
75
Enter Messenger.
Whether so fast my friend?
Mess.
For you my payre
Of pretty ones, the King commands you both
Straight make your personal appearance
Before him and his Counsell.
Nig.
What's the matter?
I'm sure neither of us deflour'd his daughter.
Mess.
Having once summon'd you, my errand's done.
Fid.
What e're the matter is we had best t'obey.
(Exeunt.
Scena Secunda.
Philocres, Lucina.Luc.
What say you now my Princely Paramour?
Was it not true I told you? Finde you not
Some difference 'twixt longing all in vaine
After a beauty, and enjoying one,
Though perhaps altogether not so fayre?
Phil.
I doe my deare Instructresse, I now finde
Sighes are not as they seeme refreshing blasts
To a scorch't heart; but like tempestuous windes
They blow the fire, and make the heate farre greater,
Whilst only they enjoy the comfort of
A nourishing heate, who doe without
Or cost of sigh, or losse of teare possesse
A mutuall love, such as doe you and I.
76
This her discovery, for 'tis certaine truth.
Luc.
Now by my soule Sir, I dare sweare 'tis false.
Nay I doe know it false, and so may you,
If you remember that same very night,
Wherein she stands accus'd to have been t'ane napping
You were her Guardian; it was you that watch't
I'th'out roome, and kept her chamber doore,
None could passe in Sir, but by your connivance,
And sure you will not prove your selfe a Pandar.
Phil.
The calling backe to minde that night,
Makes me misdoubt there may be some mistake
In Florabella's businesse, sure 'twas so.
A pockes upon my pate, where were my braynes?
I did not light on it before.
Luc.
What is't
That troubles you, my Lord?
Phil.
No, nor you neither
You could not thinke upon't.
Luc.
Not thinke on what?
Phil.
For certaine Garamont saw you and me
Our first encounters make that very night,
And so mistooke you for the Princesse.
Luc.
O me unfortunate! 'tis most apparent,
Shall I then prove the cause of all her sorrow?
And which is worse, not able be to give
The least redresse.
Phil.
Appease thy selfe my love,
All this may make for thee.
Luc.
But you Sir may
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You have unwittingly offended.
Phil.
What meanes my fayre Lucina?
Luc.
I know I shall not neede use Arguments
Of provocation; your honour does
Ingage you to't.
Phil.
To what my dearest love?
Luc.
To make you undertake the Princesse cause,
And her defend against Lord Garamont,
Since you must now needes know her innocent,
And you your selfe the originall of what
Of mischiefe can betide her.
Phil.
Pardon me,
It not becomes a Prince hazzard his person
In other folke's affayres: Did I her love
As whilome e're I tasted of thy sweetes
Much might be done: but since the love I bore
To her is vanish't, and fix't heere with thee,
No fighting I, I doe love thee too well
To hazzard that of blisse the fates intend thee.
Luc.
There's nought of good can me befall, if ought
Of bad befall her.
Phil.
You may be mistak'n,
I spake it knowingly, if you your selfe
Stand not in your own light you shall not neede
Envy the Princesse, you shall be as great,
As puissant a Princesse as is shee.
Luc.
Mocke not, my Lord, the humblest of your vassalls.
Phil.
Not to detayne you on the Tenter hookes,
Since we have both, though unaware, been guilty
78
Heere may be dangerous. The King and Counsell
Neglect no meanes of sifting out the truth,
Which should they finde, what would become of you?
My birth would beare out such an amorous slip,
Dangers foreseene are easily prevented,
Therefore to shunne all sinister event,
I'le take my leave o'th'King this very day.
Luc.
But wherein, I pray, am I the safer?
Phil.
Thinke you that I'le leave you behinde, my fayre one?
No, sure, we will in fortune share alike.
Luc.
I goe along with you? what will the King
Your father say? what will the people thinke
To see you bring a woman over with you?
'Twill hardly suffer good construction,
And trust me, Sir, I value more mine honour
Than to be a know'en concubine to e're
A Prince alive.
Phil.
You injure me in these
Your doubts; to witnesse which no sooner you
Shall set your foot within Majorca
But I will marry you, make you my wife,
And hereupon I plight to you my faith.
Luc.
Sir, since y'are pleas'd thus unexpectedly,
(For I durst never ayme at such a blisse)
To honour me with th'title of your wife,
I'le strive to bring in stead of portion
And correspondent birth to yours, obedience.
Phil.
And that's more worth than millions are without it.
Therefore my heart, least we may be prevented
79
Or ought you value else, see't soone pack't up.
About an hour hence I will send a couple
Of trusty servants to you, who shall wayte
Upon you, and conduct you safe aboard
My Gally, which lyes ready in the Haven;
I'le meane time kisse the King's hands, faigne t'have had
Some sudden summons which doeth call me home.
Then put on wings to follow thee, my deare.
Luc.
Was ever Prince so truly generous?
Phil.
Not to be so were to be worse than beast.
Luc.
Sir, you are all compos'd of worth, I dare
Not doubt your word, and therefore thus obey you.
The Gods are just, and doubtlesse will not suffer
The Princesse thus injuriously to suffer.
(Exit.
Phil.
So, thus far all goes well; should she not be
Convey'd away, or rather made away
Er'e her examination be taken
Who knowes but she for want of good take heede
Might somewhat say that might give light unto
The businesse, so all be discover'd.
Thus it behooves to mine and countermine
If men their ends will compasse; I will
Marry her if ever she set her foot
Within my Countrey. I am bound by oath
Which I will keepe, to doe so: But if she
Never come there, then I'm at liberty,
And if she ever doe my skill shall fayle me.
Who waytes without there? ho, Francisco.
80
Fran.
Sir,
What is your pleasure?
Phil.
Where's your fellow Ponto?
Fran.
I left him, Sir, sharpning his dagger's pointe.
Phil.
Goe, call him hither.
(Exit Francisco.
Heere's a payre of Rascalls,
Will for a brace of crownes not stick to cut
Their mother's throate, and for a couple more
Make the deede good, and sweare she was a whore.
Enter Francisco and Ponto.
Come hether foreward Franck, and trusty Ponto
You'll sticke at nothing I command you doe?
Pont.
Sir, does there breathe that man you'd fain see dead?
Fran.
Is it a Virgin you would have defam'd?
Pont.
A voteresse you would have strumpeted?
Fran.
Some holy man accus'd of heresy?
Pont.
Some altar robb'd of all its ornaments?
Fran.
What is't you'd have us doe? speake but the word.
'Tis done.
Phil.
None of all these my trusty blades.
Hearke in your eare; (they whisper)
and for your reward
Take all the gold and jewells are about her.
Pont.
Is this all Sir? I'm sorry your commands
Are of no higher nature; as for this
Beleeve it done already.
Phil.
I neede not sweare
You unto secrecy.
Fran.
Faith Sir, doe if you please
81
Were not our lives concern'd 'tis not an oath
Would weigh thus much with either of us both.
Phil.
I love those that tell truth.
Pont.
You'll n'ere love us then.
Phil.
Well, well, be gone about your businesse.
Both.
W'are gone, Sir.
(Exeunt both.
Phil.
Things thus must he contrive
Who in this world does meane to thrive.
The Politicke wise not valiant stout
Is he who brings his ends about.
Scena Tertia.
Fiducia, Nigretta.Fid.
I pray thee wench, what questions ask't they you?
I never was so Catechiz'd before.
Nig.
More than a good many, that I'm sure.
They ask't what a clocke it was when as
My Lady came into her chamber? who came with her?
What time she went to bed? who lock't the doores?
Who lay with her that night? whether that I
Saw her in bed or no? what time she rose?
Whether I found her cloathes lay'd i'th'same place
Next morning, as when she put them off?
And twenty more such frivolous questions, which
I not remember.
Fid.
Such like questions just
82
What didst thou answer to their last demaund?
For I remember when I came i'th'morning
Into her chamber, I might see her gowne,
Her knots, her petticoates, and all she wore
The day before, remov'd from where they were
When we put her to bed, which made me wonder.
Nig.
I, I remember how they lay, when we
Came in, as if put off in haste, disorderly,
And not as we did leave them.
Fid.
Well,
How didst thou answere that interrogatory?
Nig.
At first I answer'd nothing, but stood mute,
At which their Lordships' startling, swore I'de best
Tell trueth, the naked bare fac't trueth,
Or they by tortures would compell it from me.
I did obey their wisedomes; did confesse
I found her cloathes misplac't; at which they all
Heaving their shoulders up into their neckes,
And looking fixtly one upon another,
As if the case were evident, bade me
Be gone, for I had said too much, if true.
Fid.
I cannot blame them; if they do misdoubt
The argument is shrewd, yet I dare pawne
My soule she's innocent.
Nig.
I cannot tell
I'le lay no wagers; though she be a Lady
She is compos'd of the same flesh as we
Her servants are: Besides, if you remember
The Balconye-window in the outward roome
83
I saw it bolted e're she went to bed.
Fid.
Somewhat there must be in't; why doe they not
Question Lucina; she that lay with her,
She's likelyest to know of all that is past,
And to say trueth, I rather doe misdoubt
Her, than the Princesse; nay, I'le rather doubt
My selfe, and thinke I might walke in my sleepe,
Or you, or to say trueth, all woman kinde.
Her passion for her Bellamour is such,
As had I seene what Garamont affirms
He saw, I should beleeve I'de seene amisse,
For certainely such demonstrations
Of griefe, cannot be counterfeitt.
Nig.
Nay, certainly I doe beleeve she did
Love Bellamour, but will not sweare but she
Might love some other too. Full ill advis'd
Is she who suffereth her selfe to be
So ill provided of servants as to have
One onely sweetheart; so foolish certainly
Will ne're Nigretta be.
Fid.
What meanes the wench?
I'm sure thou doest not speake as thou doest thinke.
Nig.
Yes in good faith, and so should you thinke too
Would you thinke wisely. Take it on my word
Who have past some more yeares i'th'Court than you.
The wisest and the fayrest thus doe doe
In Courts and Cityes, thus the Ladyes live.
To shake a lover off 'mongst them is sinne
And foolishnesse accounted; and what one's
84
Some one may be convenient to send
Of errands; if his Mistresse bid him see
What Ladyes are i'th'privy lodgings; whether
The Princesse stirre abroad or no, or but
Enquire at the backe stayres what colour'd gowne
Her Grace puts on to day, what knots,
What fashion'd ruffe: he lowly cringes,
Kisses her glove, professes how much he's
Her humble servant, how much honoured
By this employment, so forthwith is gone.
Another may be good to laugh at, to
Make sport withall, or to remoove the spleene;
This man though laugh'd at ne're so loudly, ne're
So palpably, takes all in excellent part,
And does professe him selfe the happiest man
Alive, in that he makes her Honour merry.
Others there be compos'd of mettle more
Refin'd, may serve for Cabinet Counsellours,
For bosome friends, and when they're once got thither,
They will not sticke to stray a little lower.
Fid.
Sure you do force your selfe to talke all this
Onely to trye what mettle I am made on,
But it is more than needes, I never yet
Knew other love than to my Mistrisse service,
And should fond hayre-brayn'd love e're get
Dominion over me he ne're should boast
Of more than one shaft which could wound my heart;
And she indeede that wounded is with more,
Was never hurt at all, nor ever knew
85
Nig.
I hate this love's Philosophy. What's this
That you call faith? what tearme you constancy?
They're onely meere imaginary names
To cozzen fooles and babes withall.
Faith in a woman (if such faith there be
In any woman, whereof I must needes
Professe my selfe totally ignorant)
It is no goodnesse, no, nor vertue is it,
But meere necessity of love,
A woeful badge of faded beauty, which
Likes onely one, because no more like her.
The Lawes of love which practis'd are by all
Your wisest Ladyes, most experienc't Dames,
Is to have many sweet hearts, but make use
Onely of one at once, and often change.
Fid.
Well, I shall ne're be saved by your beliefe;
Therefore leave this discourse, or talke alone,
And that I may reduce you to the point
From whence you have runne ryott: I pray y', say
What may the cause be why Lucina is
Not yet examin'd, when 'tis likelyest
If any body doe know anything
Concerning this affayre, it must be shee.
Nig.
I heard Philocres, and his friend Feredo
Were by the Counsell pray'd to question her,
But I beleeve their wisdomes may have err'd
In having made no better choice. I know
Whereto the Prince's questions all doe tend.
Fid.
Why? hath he ever question'd you, Nigretta?
86
Yes, and had had his answere too, but that
I not presume to be my Mistresse' taster.
Fid.
I perceive you'll to th'old Theame againe,
Therefore I'le in least that the Princesse may
Lacke anything. I fear we may have stay'd
Too long already.
Nig.
I'le in with you too.
Scena Quarta.
Montalto, Arnaldo, Feredo.Mon.
Could you learne ought, Feredo, of Lucina,
Which might give light unto this deede of darknesse?
All our enquiries of the other wenches
Have beene but so much time spent to no purpose.
Fer.
Your Lordships know that when I was commanded
To take Lucina'es examination
The Prince desired he might have leave
To goe along with me, which being graunted,
We left your Lordships and we forthwith went
To finde her out, and as we crost the Court
The Gates being open, we might see i'th'parke
Some halfe a dozzen set of fayre Coach-horses
Brought thither to be seene and solde, if any
Tooke liking to them.
The Prince not thinking that our errand
Requir'd so much haste, was much desirous
To looke upon the Steedes, for that he said
87
I'de wayte upon his Highnesse as soone as
I had dispatch't what I was sent about,
But he alleadging that the best might be
Perhaps bought off e're I had done
With questioning Lucina, was so earnest
In his desires, as I for to obey him
Went along with him. He perused each horse
Apart, then coupled them together
To see how they would match; and faults he found
In most or all of them; some's colours pleas'd him not,
And those whose colours pleas'd, he did not like
Their shape; there was but one amongst them all
Which he found not somewhat to say unto,
And that indeede I must confesse
Was such a one, as were it to be match't
With five such other, the mightyest Prince alive
Might be proud to be draw'en by them,
His colour bay, but his extremities,
As feete, tayle, maine, coale-blacke save that
His neere hinde-foot was white, his head
Was small, a starre he in his forehead had.
His eares were short and piked, his eyes large
And quicke, his nostrills still extended,
His mouth still foaming, and perpetually
Cranshing his bitt, his necke short and lofty,
His breast broad, his backe not overlong,
And with a blacke list gutter'd to the docke,
His buttockes large, and full of brawny flesh.
His legges were cleane and sinewye, the one
88
His foot was somewhat high, and his hoofe hard.
Some houres or better we did spend in this
Perusing of those horses; which being done
We tooke our way towards Lucina'es chamber,
We found the chamber doore lock't, first we knock't
Softly, then louder, lastly very loud,
But had no answere made; we said we came
Sent by the King; all would not doe, we could
Have no replye; we angry grew, at last
We broke the doore, but found not her,
We then sought for her over all the Court,
But could not heare of her; at last we went
To the Court-gates to know whether or no
She was gone forth; where we did heare that she
Some houres before wayted on by two men
Had passed through the Gate.
We by inquiry trace't her, till we found
She was gone out o'th'towne; we there left watch
To bring us word when she return'd, but yet
We have no news of her, and sure 'tis now
So late the City Gates are lock't, so as
I feare I shall not light on her this night.
Arn.
No, nor to morrow neither, I beleeve.
Trust me, you were to blame for loytering
When sent about a businesse of this weight.
She sure knew all, and fearing least it might
Be wrought out of her, she hath left the Court.
Fer.
I doe confesse my fault, my Lords, but had
Either of you beene in my place, and so
89
You would have done as I did; God he knowes
I dream'd of nothing lesse than her escape.
Mont.
Knowes the King of it yet?
Fer.
He does my Lord,
And is so much incens't (for he till now
Did never doubt his daughter's innocence)
As giving it for graunted, she's in fault,
Has vow'd never to see her face till she
Hath clear'd herself: or for not doing so
Have suffer'd death. Her cloaths mislayd, and that
The window was left open, doe worke much
On his beliefe.
Arn.
I, that balcony window
Stickes in my stomach too. Nigretta did depose
'Twas boulted when she went to bed, and sure
There must goe hands to th'opening of it.
Mont.
Besides Lord Garamont is knowe'n to be
Of so unquestion'd a reputation,
So prone too to defend (as all men ought,
All men of worth I meane) a Ladye's honour
Rather than rayse false calumnyes, which may
Sully their names, as that's surely, I thinke
The cause why none appeares in her defense.
Arn.
I know not what to say, but I could wish
The Law were wink't at: for if things proceede
As yet they doe our wives and daughters too
May chance hop't headlesse; love's
Bred within us, and as we increase in yeares
And strength, so it increases, nature's selfe
90
Gets footing, heaven and earth obey.
Mont.
'Tis true Arnaldo, and I oft have thought
The Law in this point to be too severe,
For if so sweete it be to sinne, and not
To sinne so necessary, or nature is
Imperfect, which oppugnes the Lawes, or else
The Law's too hard which does contend 'gainst nature.
Enter Argales.
Arg.
The King, my Lords, doeth greete you well and doeth
By these his letters Patent, constitute
You Lord Montalto, Lord high Constable
And you Lord Marshall, for he is resolved
To have no Ceremoniall part omitted,
But all things punctually perform'd, as doe
The Lawes require.
Mont.
How fares his Majesty?
Arg.
Sad, you will well beleeve, and yet beleeve me
He beares it bravely, faith, they not deserve
To rule by Lawes that will not be rul'd by them.
Arn.
His patient bearing this so sad disaster
Crownes all his other deedes of memory.
Will he himselfe be present?
Arg.
No, my Lord,
But if his daughter be not clear'd by some
To him yet unknowe'n way, he vowes the Law
Shall passe upon her.
Arn.
Faith, I faine would hope,
But know not what.
91
Who knowes, when man's most weake
The Gods are strongest, and the heavens inspire
The man that hopeth well with heavenly fire.
Scena Quinta.
Sylvander, Bellamour in disguise.Syl.
I have rid all night, and never met with man
Nor house, nor seene so much as candlelight,
Nor heard a dogge barke; this for certaine is
Terra Incognita; now that the day
Begins to cleare, I certainely shall meete
With some or other who will able be
To tell me where I am, and luckily
See yonder walkes a man, Sir by your leave—
Bell.
Sir, good leave have you.
Syl.
Nay, friend, more than so,
We must not part thus; I have lost my way,
Or, to say true, I thinke I ne're was in't:
Heere I have travell'd in these unpath'd woods
All night, and doe not love to wander
Thus all alone, as by your melancholly
It seemes you love to do, therefore pray, say,
What Towne w'are neerest to, and which way leads unto it?
Bell.
You could not, Sir, have met with one lesse able
T'instruct you than you have done. I know not where
We are, nor what this place is call'd,
Yet can I not say I have lost my way,
92
Those best where I may be most private,
Therefore that I may love this, as I did
Till I encountred you, pray leave me.
Syl.
Sir, you shall pardon me, my horse and I
Are well nigh famish't; I have left him tyed
To grasse this morning by an oake, remarkable
For its broad spreading boughes, whilst I perchance
Might light upon some passenger.
The Sunne hath made his journey 'bout the world
And visited each Cranye of the Universe
Since he or I did taste of any food.
Bell.
Since heerein to[o] your hudwinck't fortune hath
Cast you unluckily on me; 'tis twice
As long, since I or ate or dranke;
And yet I lye, I have had my belly full
Of water; but alas! all would not serve
To ease me of this irksome life, wherewith
Some day or two I must be longer yet
Annoy'd.
Syl.
You cannot then direct me in
The way that leades to the next Towne?
Bell.
No, Sir.
Syl.
Then farewell. I must finde out some that can.
(Exit.
Bell.
O bitter sweetes of love! Farre better 'tis
Never to have knowe'n you, than once knowe'n to loose you!
How happy a condition would it be
To be in love, if the delights once tasted
Were never to be lost againe; or if
When they are lost, with them their memory
93
Call backe to mind fayre Florabella's favours
Wherewith she pleas'd to mocke me, nor grieve for
Their losse. But truce a while
With passion, since the fates have not decreed
That I should drowne, for if't had been their will
The fisher boate would not have beene so nigh
To save me when I plung'd into the deepe.
I will a while survive, and I'le returne
Backe to the Court to heare whether or no
The Princesse doeth bewayle my death, and see
What doeth become of her. In this disguise
Sure none will know me; somewhat I'd fayne doe
If I knew what, e're to the other world
I made my passage, whereby to make knowe'n
To all the world, and to her selfe in chiefe,
How I might well have merited her love
Had she so pleas'd, better perhaps than he
Who e're he be that did and does enjoy her.
When this, I know not what, is done, I'le dye
In peace and quiet; but the lowly valleys,
The hills, these woods which I have taught so oft
To echo backe her name, shall make my moanes
Knowe'n to all passengers; fountains shall weepe
For me, the windes shall sigh, and in
Their loudest blasts make all my sufferings knowe'n.
(Exit.
Enter Lucina, Francisco, Ponto.
Luc.
Whether doe you dragge me thus? How long will't be
E're you performe your Maister's will? y'are yet
94
My being put to death once, you your selves
Confesse, and your unheard of tyranny
Hath caus'd me dye as oft as houres have past,
Since yesterday you tooke me from my chamber.
I oft have heard and now doe finde it true
The feare of death is worse than death it selfe,
Therefore be mercifull, and end my miseryes.
Pont.
You may thanke him for your so long delay;
You had beene dead, and cold else long e're this,
But now prepare to dye.
Fran.
Prepare to live.
Since fayre meanes all this while cannot prevayle
I'le now use this (He draweth)
. 'Tis thou not she must dye,
Or else release up all thy interest
In her and what is hers freely to me,
So thou mayst still live poore and we in plenty.
Pont.
So thou shalt first be hang'd and she be damn'd.
(He wounds Lucina and fights with Francisco.
Luc.
I thanke thee more for this than him for what
Of good he did intend me. Better I finde
It is to dye than live with tortur'd minde.
Enter Sylvander.
Syl.
'Twas swords which I heard clash, see where they are:
Or sheath your swords or I will make the third
(Francisco and Ponto runne away.
What? both so nimble? sure their cause was bad,
They would not else so soone have left the field.
What meanes that gentlewoman which lyes there?
95
Say, lady, speake, your murderers are fled,
Be of good comfort, 'tis a friend speakes to you.
Luc.
Be then a friend, and suffer me to dye.
Syl.
No, by your leave, faire Dam'sell, not unlesse
My old friend fayle me heere, and he's not wont
To sticke at trifles, many a sorer wound
(He draweth out a boxe of balsame.)
Than this, I hope, will prove, I oft have cured
With this my balsome, which I carry still
About me for like accidents as this
That happen sometimes in an houre,
Which will not chance againe in a man's age;
I'de not have beene without it at this time
For more than I will speak of. Loe,
The bloud is stay'd already, be of comfort.
Stand up my wench, and e're you tell the story
Of your disaster, say how hight these woods,
And how we may get out of them.
Luc.
Sir, your lookes
Speakes you a Gentleman; and for your charity
Us'd towards me you ought to be obey'd.
These woods are call'd The Forrest of Disaster:
Not farre from hence there lyes a way which leades
Into the beaten rode.
Syl.
The forrest of Disaster!
You well may call it so, had not my starres,
My better fate directed me this way
It might have prov'd disasterous to you,
But I thanke destiny. Lady, be pleas'd
96
Not farre from heere will serve to beare us both.
I will not leave you till in better hands
Than those I tooke you from; you by the way
May, if you please, relate your story to me,
And wherein I may serve you may command.
Luc.
Who would command must first learn to obey.
So I doe you Sir: that way lyes the way.
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