I dare not venture on you; you cut too Enter Quisara.

Quisan. We thank you, sir, for your good mirth;

[business.

You are a good companion.
Here comes the princess now; attend your
Quisar. Is there no remedy, no hopes can
help me?

No wit to set me free?-Who's there, ho?
Quisan. Troubled?
[princess?

Her looks are almost wild: what ails the I know nothing she wants.

Quisar. Who's that there with you? Oh, signior Piniero, you're most welcome! How does your noble uncle?

Pin. Sad as you are, madam:

But he commends his service, and this letter. Quisar. Go off; attend within.- Fair, sir,

I thank you:

[come;

Pray be no stranger, for indeed you're wel-
For your own virtues, welcome.
Quisan. We're mistaken;

This is some brave fellow sure.

Pan. I'm sure he's a bold fellow; But if she hold him so, we must believe it. [Exeunt. Quisar. Do you know of this, fair sir? Pin. I guess it madam,

And whither it intends: I had not brought it else. [koning.

Quisar. It is a business of no common recPin. The haudsomer for him that goes about it;

Slight actions are rewarded with slight thanks: Give me a matter of some weight to wade in! Quisar. And can you love your uncle so directly,

So seriously and so full, to undertake this? Can there be such a faith?

Pin. Dare you say ay to it 32,

And set me on? 'Tis no matter for my uncle, Or what I owe to him, dare you but wish it? Quisar. I would fain

I

Pin. Have it done? Say but so, lady.
Quisar. Conceive it so.

Pin. I will; 'tis that I'm bound to: Your will that must command me, and your pleasure, [rect me. The fair aspects of those eyes that must diI am no uncle's agent; I'm mine own, lady; scorn my able youth should plow for others, Or my ambition serve for pay: I aim, Altho' I never hit, as high as any man, And the reward I reach at shall be equal, And what love spurs me on to: this desire Makes me forget an honest man, a brave man, A valiant and a virtuous ma, my countryman,

Armusia, the delight of all, the minion 33:
This love of you, doting upon your beauty,
The admiration of your excellence,
Make me but servant to the poorest smile,
Or the least grace you have bestow'd on
others,

And see how suddenly I'll work your safety,
And set your thoughts at peace! I am no
flatterer,
[gers;

To promise infinitely, and out-dream danTo lie a-bed, and swear men into fevers, Like some of your trim suitors; when I pro

mise,

The light is not more constant to the world
Than I am to my word.—She turns, for mil-
lions!
[courage.
Quisar. I have not seen a braver confirm'd
Pin. For a tun of crowns she turns! she
is a woman;

And, much I fear, a worse than I expected.—
You are the object, lady, you're the eye
In which all excellence appears, all wonder.
From which all hearts take fire, all hands
their valour:

And

And when he stands disputing, when you him,

bid

Or but thinks of his estate, father, mother,
Friends, wife, and children, is a fool, and I
scorn him;
[ard.
An't be but to make clean his sword, a cow-
Men have forgot their fealty to beauty!
Had I the place in your affections,
My most unworthy uncle's fit to fall from,
Liv'd in those blessed eyes, and read the sto-
Of everlasting pleasures figur'd there, [ries
I'd find out your commands before you
thought 'em,
[of 'em.
And bring 'em to you done, ere you dream'd
Quisar. I admire his boldness!
Pin. This, or any thing;
Your brother's death, mine uncle's, any
No state that stands secu if

it.

you

[man's,

frown on [you) Look on my youth, (I bring no blastings to The first flower of my strength, my faith.

Quisar. No more, sir!

I am too willing to believe: rest satisfied,
If you dare do for me, I shall be thankful,
You are a handsome gentleman, a fair one;
My servant if you please; I seal it thus, sir.
No more, till you deserve more.

[Exit.

Pin. I'm rewarded. This woman's cunning, but she's bloody too: Altho' she pulls her talons in, she's mischie[transparent.

vous;

Form'd like the face of Heav'n, clear and
I must pretend still, bear 'em both in hopes,
For fear some bloody slave thrust in indeed,
Fashiou'd and flesh'd to what they wish.
Well uncle,
[nour
What will become of this, and what disho-
Follow this fatal shaft, if shot, let time tell!
I can but only fear, and strive to cross it 34.
[Exit.

Enter Armusia, Emanuel, and Soza. Eman. Why are you thus sad? What can grieve or vex you,

That have the pleasures of the world, the profits,

The honour, and the loves at your disposes? Why should a man that wants nothing want his quiet? [content;

Arm. I want what beggars are above me in, I want the grace I've merited, the favour, The due respect.

Soza. Does not the king allow it? [ask, Arm. Yes, and all honours else, all I can That he has power to give; but from his sister,

The scornful cruelty, (forgive me, beauty, That I transgress) from her that should look

on me,

That should a little smile upon my service, And foster my deserts for her own faith's sake; [to meThat should at least acknowledge me, speak Soza. And you go whining up and down for this, sir?

Lamenting and disputing of your grievances? Sighing and sobbing, like a sullen school-boy, And cursing good-wife Fortune for this favour?

Arm. What would you have me do?

Soza. Do what you should do, [man, What a man would do in this case, a wise An understanding man that knows a woman, Knows her and all her tricks, her scorns, and all her trifles; [shake her;

Go to her, and take her in your arms, and Take her and toss her like a bar!

Eman. But be sure you pitch her upon a feather-bed,

[shake Shake her between a pair of sheets, sir; there These sullen fits out of her, spare her not there! [bone, sir.

There you may break her will, and bruise no Soza. Go to her

Eman. That's the way.

Soza. And tell her, and boldly, [yourself, And do not mince the matter, nor mock With being too indulgent to her pride; Let her hear roundly from you, what you are, And what you have deserv'd, and what she must be. [fellow, Eman. And be not put off, like a common With The princess would be private;' Or, that sh' has taken physic, and admits none: I would talk to her any where.

Arm. It makes ne smile!

Eman. Now you look handsomely:
Had I a wench to win, I would so flutter her!
They love a man that crushes 'em to verjuice;
A woman held at hard meat is your spaniel.
Soza. Pray take our counsel, sir.
Arm. I shall do something;

But not your way; it shews too boisterous;
For my affections are as fair and gentle
As her they serve.

Enter King.

Soza. The king!

King. Why, how now, friend? Why do you rob me of the company

I love so dearly, sir? I have been seeking you, For when I want you, I want all my pleasure.

and cross to cross it.

Why

Why sad? thus sad still, man? I will not have it; I must not see the face I love thus shadow'd. Eman. An't please your grace, methinks it ill becomes him;

A soldier should be jovial, high and lusty. King. He shall be so: come, come, I know your reason; [have her:

It shall be none to cross you; you shall Take my word, ('tis a king's word) you shall have her;

She shall be yours or nothing. Pray be merry! Arm. Your grace has given me cause: I shall be, sir,

And ever your poor servant.

King. Me myself, sir,

[denly,

My better self. I shall find time, and sudTo gratify your loves too, gentlemen, And make you know how much I stand bound to you. [compliment!

Nay, 'tis not worth your thanks; no further Will you go with me, friend?

Arm. I beseech your grace, Spare me an hour or two, I shall wait on you: Some little private business with myself, sir, For such a time.

King. I'll hinder no devotion, [gentlemen, For I know you're regular. I'll take you, Because he shall have nothing to disturb him. I shall look for you, friend. [Exeunt.

Arm. I dare not fail, sir. What shall I do to make her know my misery? To make her sensible?-This is her woman: I have a toy come to me suddenly; [me, It may work for the best; she can but scorn And lower than I am I cannot tumble; I'll try, whate'er my fate be.-Good ev'n fair one! [night to you, sir! Pan. 'Tis the brave stranger.-A good Now, by my lady's hand, a goodly gentleman! How happy shall she be in such a husband! 'Would I were so provided too!

Arm. Good pretty one,

Shall I keep you company for an hour or two?
I want employment for this evening:
I am an honest man.

35 Arm. If I fail the

And you may bless the hour you did this benefit: [teous minds, Sweet handsome faces should have courAnd ready faculties.

Pan. Tell me your business:

Yet if, I think, it be to her, yourself, sir, (For I know what you are, and what we hold you, [cond,

And in what grace you stand) without a se(For that but darkens you) would do it better; The princess must be pleas'd with your acI'm sure I should. [cesses;

Arm. I want a courtier's boldness, And am yet but a stranger: I'd fain speak with her. [sleep, sir. Pan. 'Tis very late, and upon her hour of Arm. Pray you wear this, and believe my meaning civil, [Gives her a jewel. My business of that fair respect and carriage. This for our more acquaintance! [sible

Pan. How close he kisses! and how senThe passings of his lips are! I must do it, An I were to hang now, and I will do't: He may do as much for me; that's all I aim

at:

[do it, And come what will on't, life or death, I'll For ten such kisses more, an 'twere high

A little merrier first: let me sit by you,
And read or discourse something that you
Or take my instrument.
[fancy;

Quisar. No, no, I thank you; I shall sleep without these. I wrong your age, [you!

aunt,

To make you wait thus; pray let me entreat To-morrow I will see you; I know you're

sleepy,

[not,

And rest will be a welcome guest: you shall Indeed you shall not stay. Oh, here's my

woman!

Sympson.

Enter

Enter Panura.

Good night, good night! and good rest, aunt, attend you!

Quisan. Sleep dwell upon your eyes, and fair dreams court you!

Quisar. Come, where have you been, wench? Make me unready;

I slept but ill last night.

Pan. You'll sleep the better

I hope to-night, madam.

Quisar. A little rest contents me; Thou lov'st thy bed, Panura.

Pan. I'm not in love, lady,

Nor seldom dream of devils; I sleep soundly. Quisar. I'll swear thou dost; thy husband would not take't so well,

If thou wert married, wench.

Pan. Let him take, madam,

The way to waken me! I am no dormouse: Husbands have larum-bells, if they but ring

Enter Armusia, locks the door.
Quisar. Why should I love him?
Why should I dote upon a man deserves not,
Nor has no will to work it?-Who's there,
wench?-

What are you? or whence come you?
Arm. You may know me:

I bring not such amazement, noble lady.
Quisar. Who let you in?

Arm. My restless love, that serves you. Quisar. This is an impudence I have not heard of,

A rudeness that becomes a thief or ruffian; Nor shall my brother's love protect this boldness, [sanctuaries,

You build so strongly on my rooms are And with that reverence, they that seek my favours, [proaches.

And humble fears, shall render their apArm. Mine are no less.

Quisar. I'm mistress of myself, sir,

And will be so: I will not be thus visited, These fears and dangers thrust into my privacy. Stand further off! I'll cry out else.

Arm. Oh, dear lady!

Quisar. I see dishonour in your eyes.

Arm. There's none:

By all that beauty, they are innocent!
Pray you tremble not! you have no cause.
Quisar. I'll die first;

Before you have your will, be torn in pieces.
The little strength I've left me to resist you,
The gods will give me more, before I'm forc'd
To that I hate, or suffer-

Arm. You wrong my duty.

Quisar. So base a violation of my liberty! I know you're bent unnobly; I'll take to me The spirit of a man, borrow his boldness, And force my woman's fears into a madness, And ere you arrive at what you aim at— Arm. Lady,

If there be in you any woman's pity, And if your fears have not proclaim'd me monstrous,

Look on me,
and believe me! Is this violence?
Is it, to fall thus prostrate to your beauty,
A ruffian's boldness? is humility a rudeness?
The griefs and sorrows that grow here, an
impudence?
[with me,
These forcings, and these fears I bring along
These impudent abuses offer'd you?
And thus high has your brother's favour
blown me.

Alas, dear lady of my life, I came not
With any purpose rough or desperate,
With any thought that was not smooth and
gentle

As your fair hand, with any doubt or danger;
Far be it from my heart to fright your quiet!
A heavy curse light on't, when I intend it!
Quisar. Now I dare hear you.

Arm. If I had been mischievous,

As then I must be mad, or were a monster, If any such base thought had harbour'd here, Or violence that became not man 36,

You have a thousand bulwarks to assure you. The holy powers bear shields to defend chastity; [armours,

Your honour and your virtues are such Your clear thoughts such defences. If you misdoubt still,

And yet retain a fear I am not honest, Come with impure thoughts to this place, Take this, and sheath it here; be your own safety;

Be wise, and rid your fears, and let me perish! How willing shall I sleep to satisfy you!

Quisar. No; I believe now, you speak What came you then for? [worthily:

Arm. To complain me, beauty;

But modestly.

Quisar. Of what?

Arm. Of your fierce cruelty;

(For, tho' I die, I will not blame the doer) Humbly to tell your grace you had forgot me;

Seward.

Q 2

A little

A little to have touch'd at, not accus'd, (For that I dare not do) your scorns: pray pardon me,

And be not angry that I use the liberty To urge that word! A little to have shew'd you

[you, What I have been, and what done to deserve If any thing that love commands may reach you;

To have remember'd you, (but I'm unworthy,
And to that misery falls all my fortunes)
To have told you, and by my life you may
believe me,

That I am honest, and will only marry
You or your memory: pray be not angry!
Quisar. I thank you, sir; and let me tell
you seriously,
[you,
You have taken now the right way to befriend
And to beget a fair and clear opinion.
Yet, to try your obedience-

Arm. I stand ready, lady,

Without presuming to ask any thing 37.

Quisar. Or at this time to hope for further favour;

Or to remember services or smiles;

Dangers you have past thro', and rewards due to em;

Loves or despairs; but, leaving all to me,
Quit this place presently.

Arm. I shall obey you.

You take such elbow-room?

Arm. If I take it, I'll carry it.

Ruy. Does this become you, princess?
Arm. The captain's jealous,

Jealous of that he never durst deserve yet.
Go freely, go! I'll give thee leave.

Ruy. Your leave, sir?

Arm. Yes, my leave, sir. I'll not be
troubled neither,
[jealous,

Nor shall my heart ache, or my head be Nor strange suspicious thoughts reign in my memory;

Go on, and do thy worst, I'll smile at thee. I kiss your fair hand first; then, farewell, captain! [Exit.

Quisar. What a pure soul inherits here! what innocence!

Sure I was blind when I first lov'd this fellow,

37 I stand ready, lady,

And long to live in that fog still: how he blusters! [flatteries Ruy. Am I your property? or those your The banquets that you bid me to, the trust I build my goodly hopes on?

Quisar. Be more temperate!

Ruy. Are these the shows of your respect and favour? [with you? What did he here, what language had he Did you invite him? could you stay no longer? Is he so gracious in your eye? Quisar. You are too forward. Ruy. Why at these private hours? Quisar. You are too saucy,

Too impudent, to task me with those errors. Do you know what I am, sir? and my prerogative? [of friend, Tho' you be a thing I've call'd by th' name I never taught you to dispose my liberty: How durst you touch mine honour? blot my meanings?

And name an action, and of mine, but noble? Thou poor unworthy thing, how have I grac'd thee! [hourly! How have I nourish'd thee, and rais'd thee Are these the gratitudes you bring, Ruy Dias? The thanks? the services? I'm fairly paid! Was't not enough I saw thou wert a coward, And shadow'd thee? no noble spark in thee? Daily provok'd thee, and still found thee coward?

[at;

Rais'd noble causes for thee, strangers started
Yet still, still, still a coward, ever coward!
And, with those taints, dost thou upbraid
my virtues?

Ruy. I was to blame, lady.
Quisar. So blindly bold

[look

To touch at my behaviour? Durst thou but Amiss at my allowance?-If thou hadst Been a brave fellow, thou hadst had some licence,

Some liberty; I might have then allow'd thee, For thy good face, some scope to have argued with me;

But being nothing but a sound, a shape,
The mere sign of a soldier, of a lover
The dregs and draffy part, disgrace and jea-
I scorn thee, and contemn thee!
Ruy. Dearest lady,

If I have been too free

[lousy,

Quisar. Th'hast been too foolish; And go on still; I'll study to forget thee. I would I could! and yet I pity thee. [Exit. Ruy. I am not worth it; if I were, that's

misery!

The next door is but death; I must aim at

it.

[Exit.

ACT