BALTHAZAR

No Madame, but in pleasing servitude. I by conceit my freedom is enthralde, What if conceit have laid my heart to gage? I die if it return from whence it lies. I Lady, love can work such miracles. Yes, to your gracious self must I complain, In whose fair answer lies my remedy, On whose perfection all my thoughts attend, On whose aspect nine eyes find beauty's bower, In whose translucent breast my heart is lodged. Signior Horatio stooped in happy time. Then here it fits us to attend the King, To welcome hither our Ambassador, And learn my Father and my Countries health. No, she is wilder and more hard withal, Then beast, or bird, or tree, or stony wall. But wherefore blot I Bel-imperias name? It is my fault, not she that merits blame. My feature is not to content her sighed, My wodres are rude and work her no delight. The lines I send her are but harsh and ill, Such as do drop from Pan and Marsias quill. My presents are not of sufficient cost, And being worthless all my labours lost. Yet might she love me for my valiancy, I but thats slandered by captivity. Yet might she love me to content her fire: I but her reason Master's his desire. Yet might she love me as her brother's friend, I, but her Hope's aim at some other end. Yet might she love me to uprear her state, I but perhaps she Hope's some nobler mate. Yet might she love me as her beauteous thrall, I, but I fear she cannot love at all. Both well, and ill: it makes me glad and sad: Glad, that I know the hinderer of my love, Sad, that I fear she hates me whom I love. Glad, that I know on whom to be revenged, Sad, that sheele fly me if I take revenge. Yet must I take revenge or die my self, For love resisted grows impatient. I think Horatio be my destinde plague, First in his hand he brandished a sword, And with that sword he fiercely waged war, And in that war he gave me dangerous wounds, And by those wounds he forced me to yield, And by my yielding I became his slave. Now in his mouth he carries pleasing words, Which pleasing words do harbour sweet conceits, Which sweet conceits are limed with sly deceits, Which sly deceits smooth Bel-imperias ears, And through her ears dive down into her heart, And in her heart set him where I should stand. Thus hath he taken my body by his force, And now by sleight would captivate my soul: But in his fallen isle tempt the destinies, And either lose my life, or win my love. Oh sleep mine eyes, see not my love prophande, Be deaf my ears, hear not my discontent, Die heart, another joys what thou deservest. Ambitious villain, how his bolden grows But Balthazar loves Bel-imperia. How now my Lord, what makes you rise so soon? What mischief is it that we not mistrust? Why tell me Done Lorenzo, tell me man, If ought concerns our honour and your own? Betrayed Lorenzo, tush it cannot be. Who? Serberine my man. Is Serberine slain that loved his Lord so well? Injurious villame, murderer of his friend. Assure thee Done Lor nzo he shall die, Or else his Highness hardly shall deny. Mean while, isle haste the Marshal Sessions, For die he shall for this his damned deed. And time Lorenzo, for my Lord the Duke, You herd inquired for her yesternight. I. Have patience Bel-imperia, hear the rest. And carry you obscurely some where else, Least that his highness should have found you there. And better wast for you being in disgrace, To absent your self and give his fury place. 'Tis of thy beauty then that conquers Kings. Of those thy tresses Ariadnes twines, Where with my liberty thou hast surprised Of that thine ivory front my sorrows map, Wherein I see no haven to rest my hope. 'Tis I that love. Bel-imperia. Whom? Then fair, let Balthazar your keeper be, Led by the loadstar of her heavenly looks, Wends poor oppressed Baltbazar, As over the mountains walks the wanderer, Incertain to effect his Pilgrimage. Come Bel-imperie, Balthazars content, My sorrows ease and sovereign of my bliss, Sith heaven hath or dainde thee to be mine: Disperce those clouds and melancholy looks, And clear them up with those thy Sun bright eyes, Wherein my hope and heavens fai e beauty lies. New kindled flames should burn as morning Sun. Truce my love, I will go salute him. Welcome Hieronimo. Why this is friendly done Hieronimo. It pleased you at the entertainment of the Embassa dour, To grace the King so much as with a show, Now were your study so well furnished, As for the passing of the first nights sport, To entertain my Father with the Like: Or any such Like pleasing motion, Assure your self it would content them well. I, this is all. What would you have us play a Tragedy? In faith Hieronimo and you be in earnest, I'll make one. And now it shall be played by Princes and Courtiers such as can tell how to speak: If as it is our Country manner, You will but let us know the argument. But which of us is to perform that part, And what shall I. Hieronimo, me thinks a Comedy were better. Whats that Hieronimo forget not any thing. But this will be a mere confusion, And hardly shall we all be understood. How Like you this? On then Hieronimo, farewell till soon. Half on, the other is in my hand. The trespass that my Father made in peace, Is now controlde by fortune of the wars: And cards once dealt, it boots not ask why so, His men are slain, a weakening to his Realm, His colours ceased, a blot unto his name, His Son distressed, a corrosive to his heart, These punishments may clear his late offence. And I shall study to deserve this grace. To him in courtesy, to this perforce: He spoke me fair, this other gave me strokes: He promised life, this other threatened death: He won my love, this other conquered me: And truth to say I yield my self to both. Right well my Liege, if this prouizo were, That Done Horatio bear us company, Whom I admire and love for chivalry. My summer's day will turn to winter's night. Earth yields no joy without Perseda's love. She shall not wait on me, but I on her, Drawn by the influence of her lights, I yield. But let my friend the Rhodian knight come forth, Erasto, dearer then my life to me, That he may see Perseda my beloved. Ah Bashaw, here is love between Erast And fair Perseda sovereign of my soul. Erasto is my friend, and while he lives, Perseda never will remove her love. Dear is Erasto in our Princely eye. Why let him die, so love commandeth me. Yet grieve I that Erasto should so die. Yet lives Solyman to comfort thee. Fair Queen of beauty, let not favour die, But with a gracious eye behold his grief, That with Perseda's beauty is increased. If by Perseda's grief be not released. BAshaw, that Rhodes is ours, yield heavens the honour, And holy Mahomet our sacred Prophet: And be thou graced with every excellence, That Soliman can give, or thou desire. But thy desert in conquering Rhodes is less, Then in reserving this fair Christian Nymph Perseda, blissful lamp of Excellence: Whose eyes compel Like powerful Adamant, The warlike heart of Soliman to wait. So am I slain by beauty's tyranny. You see my Lord how Balthazar is slain. I frolic with the Duke of Castiles Son, Wrapped every hour in pleasures of the Court, And graced with favours of his Majesty. How now Hieronimo, what, courting Bel-imperi