BEAUMONT

True: for my partly, were it my father's trunk, The tyrannous Ram-heads, with their horns should gore it, Or, cast it to their curs (than they) le see cur sh, Ere prey on me so, with their Lion-law, B king in my free will (as in his) to shun it. These men, Sir, wait without, my Lord is come too. Collon l, good foe to ne To meet you thus: you look sad, but I'll tell you Something that shall remove it. O how happy Is my Lord Charaloys in his fair bride! I dare swear, you would think so good a Lady, A dower suf icient. So fair, so chaste, so virtuous: so indeed All that is excellent. Yet to all these, my Lord Her father gives the full addition of All he does now possess in Burgundy : These writings to confirm it, are new sealed And I most fortunate to present him with them, I must go seek him out, can you direct me? I thank you. Exit Baumont. I grieve for the distaste, though I have manners, No oh inquire the cause, f l e out between Your Lordship and Romont. He is a Gentleman, (For so his quality speaks him) well received Among our greatest Gallants; but yet holds His main dependence from the young Lord Nouall : Some tricks and crotchets he has in his head, As all Musicians have, and more of him I dare not author: but when you have herd him, I may presume, your Lordship so will Like him, That you'll hereafter be a friend to Music. He prevents my calling of him. You are modest. How Like you this? Whats the matter? No, he fears his clothes, more then his flesh No sir. Nor will I—but — Yes, and they will sp ache Their knowledge in this cause, when thou thinkest fit To have them called upon. In this you express (The breach by my Lords want of you, new made up) A faithful friend. Mounsieur Du Croy Assisted by Charmi. The same. Why, sir, my Lord Nouall Being the accuser, cannot be the Judge, Nor would grieve Roshfort, but Lord Charaloys (However he might wrong him by his power,) Should have and equal hearing. Had you seen him, As to my grief I have now promised patience, And ere it was believed, though spoke by him That never brake his word, enraged again So far as to make war upon those heirs, Which not a barbarous Scythian durst presume To touch, but with a superstitious fear, As something sacred, and then curse his daughter, But with more frequent violence himself, As if he had been guilty of her fault, By being incredulous of your report, You would not only judge him worrhy pity, But suffer with him. Enter Charalois, with Officers. But here comes the prisoner, I dare not stay to do my duty to him, Yet rest assured, all possible means in me To do him service, keeps you company. Exit Bau. Good my Lord. Pray you remember To use the temper which to me you promised; They are here to be seen