QUEEN

Thou mayest be master of my bodies Tomb But for my soul and mind, they are as free As their creation: and with Angels wings Can soar beyond thy reach; trust me king of Cypress Those coals the Roman Portia did devour, Are not burned out, nor have th'Egiptian worms, Yet lost their stings, steel holds his temper still, And these are ransoms from captivity. But art thou noble, hast thou one royal thought? Then briefly thus: To shun the great effusion of their bloods, Who feel no touch in mine affections, Dare you to single combat, two to two, Refer your right in love? This is the first, the Epyre duke, a man, Sprung from the line, of famous Scanderbag: The next Alphonso, sprung from noble blood: Who laden with rich lusitanian prize, Hath rod through Syracyse twice in pomp. It is enough, My hostage is my person and my love: How often does my maiden thoughts correct And chide my froward will, for this extreme Pursuit of blood! believe me, feign I would Recall mine oaths vow, did not my shame Hold fast my cruelty, by which is taught Those gems are prized best, are dearest bought, Sleep my loves softness then, waken my flame, Which guards a vestal sanctity; Princes behold, Upon those weapons sits my God of love, And in their powers my loves severity. If them you conquer, we are all your slaves, If they triumph, weel mourn upon your graves. T'is all my will. Thy noble hand erect and perfect me. Not for the world's large circuit, hold gentle Prince, Thus I do pay his ransom, low as the ground, I tender mine unspotted virgin love, To thy great wills commandment, let not my care My woman tyranny, or too strict guard, In bloody purchase take away those sweets Till now have governed your amazed desires: For trust me king, I will redeem my blame, With as much love, as Philocles hath fame. Have mercy good my Lord, Oh let my tears intrude Betwixt your vows and her calamity. In her you take from me my best of life, My joy, my comfort and my playfellow. She stirs, give way to air that she may breath. Speak Mariana, thy woes are canceled: What is the reason you not love her now, And were so passionate in love before? Loud music there, and let the God of Harmony Ravish our senses with delightful airs, Tuned to the music of the higher sphere, And with that mortal sign rarely show, The joys in Jove's high court, to feast the Gods, Making that place abound in happiness. Come noble Philocles I cease you first, ( Mariana there are choice of other Lords) In gracing you, it is the king I grace. Nay my Lord, ther's a Lady worth the handling. Found music then, fill earth with heavens pleasure, This strain contained a preticke change. Proceed unto the next. Methinks 'tis worse, come we will have another strain Come sweet Prince Philocles, Devise some new delights to shorten time, This dulness hath no relish in my sense, It hath no pith, and sloth in my conceit Is but a tipe of pride in best constructions. Thy reason wench, I pray the come disburse. Which holds the fair no longer then it grows. a notable declamation. Well wench, shalt be the proud woman's champion. Dancing hath made me weary, what sport is next? Nay then away with revels and with sports, Lie hushed, and still this vainer idleness, It now hath lost his spleen, come Lords away. My sun is risen, brings a brighter day. My Lord the Duke, your presence and my wish, Jump in and even line together: come we must to cards, I have some crowns I needs must loose to you. At mount saint. It is not Saint, but Cent, taken from hundreds. Indeed you may allow a double game, But come list for the dealing, it is my chance to deal. You are a double game, and I am no less, theres and hundred, & all cards made but one knave. Whats your game now? Nay I have two, yet one does me little good. Hardly but I must do hurt. My dearest dread, my best best sovereign, Whom I have never offended but with zeal And constant love, loyal and honourable, Vouchsafe me though a Queen a subjects right, And let me know for what offence I perish. Who does accuse us? My gracious Lord, since no desert in me, Can merit your belief, nor that your eye, Can rightly judge my pure complexion: Yet as your handmaid, let me beg the right, Endue unto wretches from our countries laws. That in the case of slander, where the proof Proceeds as much from envy as from truth, We are allowed our champions to defend Our innocence, with a well ordered sword. Will you my Lord approve the Kings assertion. Thou art no true Italian, nor true gentleman, Thus to confound the glory of thy judgement. Hath not that arm which now is armed against me That valour, spirit, judgement and that worth, Which only makes you worthy, stood approve More then my self will challenge to my virtues? And are you now basely turned retrograde? Well, I perceive ther's nought in you but spleen, And times observance, still to hold the best: Still I demand the Law. And only that is charter for his life: Live envious Lord, more envious then th'art great, Live to lament thy worst of wretchedness, Live to repent, since this I certain know: Thine own galled conscieuce will be thy worst woe. What says our tyrant suitor, our disease in love, That makes our thoughts a slave unto his sword: What says my Lord? Stay gentle friend, my love does bid thee stay, Attempt not, and be safe from misery. Why I pray thee wench? A notable construction of a noble labour: but shall we not have your company my Lord? No creature better for his skill in play, Is equal with our knowledge, good my Lord, Send him to my privy chamber presently. Come my Lord take your place, here are cards, and here are my crowns. What are you my Lord? Your game I mean. I pray thee do not affright me gentle Lord, Thy words do carry death even in their found. Whence is that warrant grounded, or whats our treason? Witness my tears that I am innocent. My dearest Lord.