FERDINAND

Where should this Music be? In that air, or the earth? It sounds no more: and sure it waits upon Some God' oth' Island, sitting on a bank, Weeping again the King my Father's wrack. This Music crept by me upon the waters, Allaying both their fury, and my passion With it's sweet air; thence I have followed it (Or it hath drawn me rather) but it's gone. No, it begins again. The Ditty do's remember my drowned father, This is no mortal business, nor no found That the earth owes: I hear it now above me. Most sure the Goddess On whom these airs attend: Vouchsafe my prayer May know if you remain upon this Island, And that you will some good instruction give How I may bear me here: my prime request (Which I do last pronounce) is (Oh you wonder) If you be Maid, or no? My Language? Heavens: I am the best of them that speak this speech, Were I but where it's spoken. A single thing, as I am now, that wonders To hear thee speak of Naples: he do's hear me, And that he do's, I weep: my self am Naples, Who, with mine eyes (never since at ebb) beheld The King my Father wracked. Yes faith, & all his Lords, the Duke of Milan And his brave son, being twain. Oh, if a Virgin, And your affection not gone forth, I'll make you The Queen of Naples. No, as I am a man. No, I will resist such entertainment, till Mine enemy ha more power. So they are: My spirits, as in a dream, are all bound up: My Father's lose, the weakness which I feel, The wrack of all my friends, nor this men threats, To whom I am subdued, are but light to me, Might I but through my prison once a day Behold this Maid: all corners else of the Earth Let liberty make use of: space enough Have I in such a prison. There be some Sports are painful; & their labour Delight in them set off: Some kinds of baseness Are nobly undergone; and most poor matters Point to rich ends: this my mean Task Would be as heavy to me, as odious, but The Mistress which I serve, quickens what's dead, And makes my labours, pleasures: Oh She is Ten times more gentle, then her Father's crabbed; And he's composed of harshness. I must remove Some thousands of these Logs, and pile them up, Upon a soar injunction; my sweet Mistress Weeps when she sees me work, & says, such baseness Had never Like Executor: I forget: But these sweet thoughts, do even refresh my labours, Most busy lest, when I do it. Oh most deer Mistress. The Sun will set before I shall discharge What I must strive to do. No precious Creature, I had rather crack my sinews, break my back, Then you should such dishonour undergo, While I fit lazy by. No, noble Mistress, it's fresh morning with me When you are by at night: I do beseech you Chiefly, that I might set it in my prayers, What is your name? Admitted Miranda, Indeed the top of Admiration, worth What's dearest to the world: full many a Lady I have eyed with best regard, and many a time the harmony of their tongues, hath into bondage Brought my too diligent ear: for several virtues Have I liked several women, never any With so full soul, but some defect in her Did quarrel with the noblest grace she owed, And put it to the foil. But you, Oh you, So perfect, and so peetlesse, are created Of every Creatures best. I am, in my condition A Prince (Miranda) I do think a King (I would not so) and would no more endure This wooden slavery, then to suffer The flesh-fly blow my mouth: hear my soul speak. The very instant that I saw you, did My heart fly to your service, there resides To make me slave to it, and for your sake Am I this patient Logge-man. Oh heaven; Oh earth, bear witness to this found, And crown what I profess with kind event If I speak true: if hollowly, invert What best is boaded me, to mischief: I, Beyond all limit of what else in that world Do love, prize, honour you. Wherefore weep you? My Mistress (dearest) And I thus humble ever. I, with a heart as willing As bondage ere of freedom: here's my hand. A thousand, thousand. I do believe it Against and Oracle. As I hope For quiet days, fair Issue, and long life, With such love, as it's now the murkiest den, The most opportune place, the strongest suggestion, Our worse Genius can, shall never melt Mine honour into lust, to take away The edge of that days celebration, When I shall think, or Phœbus Steeds are foundered, Or Night kept chained below. I warrant you, Sir, The white cold virgin Snow, upon my heart Abates the ardour of my Liver. This is a most majestic vision, and Harmonious charmingly: may I be bold To think these spirits? Let me live here ever, So rare a wondered Father, and a wise Makes this place Paradise. This is strange: your father's in some passion That works him strongly. No my dearest love, I would not for the world. Though the Seas threaten they are merciful, I have cursed them without cause. Sir, she is mortal; But by immortal providence, she's mine; I chosen her when I could not ask my Father For his advise: nor thought I had one: She Is daughter to this famous Duke of Milan, Of whom, so often I have herd renown, But never saw before: of whom I have Received a second life; and second Father This Lady makes him to me.