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And what my heart durst never tell my tongue,
Lest it should blab my thoughts, at last I speak,
And iterate; I love you.

Mont. Oh, my happiness!

What wilt thou feel me still? art thou not weary
Of making me thy May-game, to possess me
Of such a treasure's mighty magazine,

Not suffer me to enjoy it; tane with this hand,
With that to give 't another!

Pet. You are sad, Sir;

Be so no more: if you have been dejected,
It lies in me to mount you to that height
You could not aim at greater. I am yours.
These lips, that only witness it in air,
Now with this truth confirm it.

Mont. I was born to 't;

And it shall out at once.

Pet. Sir, you seem passionate;

As if my answer pleas'd not.

Mont. Now my death;

For mine own tongue must kill me: noble Lady,
You have endear'd me to you, but my vow

Was, ne'er to match with any, of what state
Or birth soever, till before the contract

Some one thing I impose her.

Pet. She to do it?

Mont. Or, if she fail me in my first demand,
I to abjure her ever.

Pet. I am she,

That beg to be imploy'd so: name a danger,
Whose very face would fright all womanhood,
And manhood put in trance, nay, whose aspect
Would ague such as should but hear it told;
But to the sad beholder, prove like those
That gazed upon Medusa's snaky locks,
And turn'd them into marble: these and more,
Should you but speak 't, Id do.
Mont. And swear to this?

PART I.

8

[Kisses him.

Pet. I vow it by my honor, my best hopes,
And all that I wish gracious: name it then,
For I am in a longing in my soul,
To show my love's expression.
Mont. You shall then

Pet. I'll do it, as I am a Virgin; Lie it within mortality, I'll do it.

Mont. You shall

Pet. I will: that which appears in
So terrible to speak, I'll joy to act;
And take pride in performance.
Mont. Then you shall-

Pet. What soldier, what?

you

―――

Mont. · love noble Valladaura ;
And at his soonest appointment marry him.
Pet. Then I am lost.-

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Miracle of Beauty.

I remember,*

There lived a Spanish Princess of our name,
An Isabella too, and not long since,
Who from her palace windows stedfastly
Gazing upon the Sun, her hair took fire.
Some augurs held it as a prodigy :

I rather think that she was Latona's brood,
And that Apollo courted her bright hair;
Else, envying that her tresses put down his,
He scorcht them off in envy; nor dare I
(From her deriv'd) expose me to his beams;
Lest, as he burns the Phoenix in her nest,
Made of the sweetest aromatic wood,
Either in love, or envy, he agree
To use the like combustion upon me.

*

A proud Spanish Princess relates this.

THE ROYAL KING AND THE LOYAL SUBJECT.

THE ROYAL KING AND THE LOYAL SUBJECT. BY THOMAS

HEYWOOD.

Noble Traitor.

A Persian History

game,

I read of late, how the great Sophy once
Flying a noble Falcon at the Herne,
In comes by chance an Eagle sousing by:
Which when the Hawk espies, leaves her first
And boldly ventures on the King of Birds;
Long tugg'd they in the air, till at the length
The Falcon (better breath'd) seiz'd on the Eagle,
And struck it dead. The Barons prais'd the Bird,
And for her courage she was peerless held.
The Emperor, after some deliberate thoughts,
Made her no less; he caus'd a crown of gold
To be new fram'd, and fitted to her head,
In honor of her courage: then the Bird,
With great applause, was to the market-place
In triumph borne; where, when her utmost worth
Had been proclaimed, the common executioner
First by the King's command took off her crown,
And after with a sword struck off her head,
As one no better than a noble Traitor
Unto the King of Birds.

A WOMAN KILL'D WITH KINDNESS: A TRAGEDY.
BY THOMAS HEYWOOD.

99

Mr. Frankford discovers that Wife has been unfaithful to him. Mrs. Fra. O by what words, what title, or what name Shall I entreat your pardon? Pardon! oh!

I am as far from hoping such sweet grace,

As Lucifer from heaven. To call you husband!
(O me most wretched!) I have lost that name,
I am no more your wife.

Fran. Spare thou thy tears, for I will weep for thee,
And keep thy countenance, for I'll blush for thee.
Now, I protest, I think, 'tis I am tainted,

For I am most asham'd; and 'tis more hard
For me to look upon thy guilty face,

Than on the sun's clear brow: what wouldst thou speak?
Mrs. Fra. I would I had no tongue, no ears, no eyes,
No apprehension, no capacity.

When do you spurn me like a dog? when tread me
Under feet? when drag me by the hair?
Tho' I deserve a thousand thousand fold

More than you can inflict: yet, once my husband,
For womanhood, to which I am a shame,
Though once an ornament; even for his sake
That hath redeem'd our souls, mark not my face,
Nor hack me with your sword: but let me go
Perfect and undeformed to my tomb.
I am not worthy that I should prevail
In the least suit; no, not to speak to you,

Nor look on you, nor to be in your presence:

Yet as an abject this one suit I crave,

This granted, I am ready for my grave.

Fran. My God, with patience arm me! rise, nay rise, And I'll debate with thee. Was it for want

Thou plaid'st the strumpet. Wast thou not supply'd
With every pleasure, fashion, and new toy;
Nay even beyond my calling?

Mrs. Fra. I was.

Fran. Was it then disability in me?

Or in thine eyes seem'd he a properer man?
Mrs. Fra. O no.

Fran. Did not I lodge thee in my bosom? Wear thee in my heart?

Mrs. Fra. You did.

Fran. I did indeed, witness my tears I did.
Go bring my infants hither. O Nan, O Nan;
If neither fear of shame, regard of honor,
The blemish of my house, nor my dear love,

Could have withheld thee from so lewd a fact,
Yet for these infants, these young harmless souls,
On whose white brows thy shame is character'd,
And
grows in greatness as they wax in years;
Look but on them, and melt away in tears.
Away with them: lest as her spotted body
Hath stained their names with stripe of bastardy,
So her adulterous breath may blast their spirits
With her infectious thoughts. Away with them.

Mrs. Fra. In this one life I die ten thousand deaths.
Fran. Stand up, stand up, I will do nothing rashly.
I will retire awhile into my study,

And thou shalt hear thy sentence presently.

[Exit.

He returns with CRANWELL his friend. She falls on her knees.

Fran. My words are register'd in heaven already.

With patience hear me. I'll not martyr thee,

Nor mark thee for a strumpet; but with usage

Of more humility torment thy soul,

And kill thee even with kindness.

Cran. Mr. Frankford.

Fran. Good Mr. Cranwell.-Woman, hear thy judgment;

Go make thee ready in thy best attire ;

Take with thee all thy gowns, all thy apparel:

Leave nothing that did ever call thee mistress,

Or by whose sight, being left here in the house,

I

may remember such a woman was.

Choose thee a bed and hangings for thy chamber;
Take with thee everything which hath thy mark,
And get thee to my manor seven miles off;
Where live; 'tis thine, I freely give it thee,
My tenants by shall furnish thee with wains
Το
carry all thy stuff within two hours;
No longer will I limit thee my sight.

Choose which of all my servants thou lik'st best,

And they are thine to attend thee.

Mrs. Fra. A mild sentence.

Fran. But as thou hop'st for heaven, as thou believ'st

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