CLEONA

Yet ay Belinda — Be You circumspect I pray, that all things have Their perfect shape and order, to receive The Worser ke, you know our pleasure, not to spare Or ost, or study, to delight his Highness. Shall I credit So great a bliss? the date is fresh, Foscari Whom I thought dead? give him five hundred Crowns Treasure is Too cheap a payment for so rich a message. Oh get thee wings and fly then, Tell him my love does burn Like Vestal fire, Which with his memory, richer then all spices, Dispersed odours round about my Soul, And did refre it sh when it dull, and sad, With thinking of his absence. Yet stay Thou goest too soon away, where is he speak? Not to fast, my joys Will be too mighty for me. Your place I see, Is better then your manners, go too, be Less troublesome, his Highness brings intents Of grace, not burden to us, know your duty. Already. Do not leave me, I shall remember more. The humble duty of a Subject to your High ness. Royal Sir— With your Highness pardon, That name was never so attended, it Becomes your bounty, but not me to wear That Title. When I leave that name, may Heaven— You mock your humble handmaid. I am unhappy. Acquaint him with these passages of the Duke. Tell him I long to see him, and at last To crown the story, say my heart shall know No other Love but his. If he inquire for his Lady, answer She is not very well, and keeps her Chamber. My Lord, you understand me not, your Brother Is not in health, some unkind pain within him Compelled him to forsake us, Would your Lordship have her fruitful, and you Never lie with her. But these things woe not be easily perfect, unless You were Duke to enforce em. Do you never think of Hell? I dare not hear him longer, Madam relea e me. In Christian charity salute her. How my Lord, hat do you think of me? Fie my Lord. O rather my Lord conclude my sufferings, TO thus with tortures lengthen out my death, Oh kill me, and I beseech you I will kiss The instrument, which guided by your hand, Shall give my grief a perjod, and pronounce Enter Gri mu do. With my last breath, your free for giuenesse. The Duke my Lord inquired for you. I am his studious Servant, and reioy e In this good news: your Brother is recovered. They are worth As many days. Withdraw. What harsh found is that? Thy looks upon a sudden are become Dismal, thy brow dull as Saturn's I . Thy lips are hung with black, as if thy tongue Were to pronounce some Fun rall. Of whom? Thy Lord, take heed, for if I be a Judge I shall condemn thee ere thou speak. How dead? when? where? did I Not hear thee say, since I received his Letter, He was alive? Be not impious. Thou hast undone me, Like a most cruel boy. Well, but that We are acquainted with your virtue, this Would move suspicion you were not in Charity with the Duke. Sir? None of these? Then I despise all sorrow boy, there is Not left another mischief in my fate, Call home thy beauty, why dost look so pale? See I am armed, and can with valiant blood, Hear thee discourse of my terror row, Me thinks I can in the assurance of His safety, hear of Battles, Tempest, Death, With all the horrid shapes that Poets fancy, Tell me the tale of Troy, or Room on fire, Rich in the trophies of the conquered world, I will not shed so many tears, to save The temples, as my joy does sacrifice, To hear my Lord is well. To me? His Ghost? Grant this truth, I am Secured again. You are severe, to bind your self too strictly, From Court and entertainments, sure your Lord Should chide you for it. Stay. Forbear your Ceremonies, what needs all this Preparation, if the Duke vouchsafe His person for my guest, duty will teach me, To entertain him without half this trouble, I'll have noryot for his Highness. How, my Lord Foscary? If he believing, I must die before This separation be confirmed, my joy Does overcome my wonder, can you leave The world while I am in't? Use your pleasure. Good Heaven defend, Angels protect your Highness. It pleased my Lord Abbot to invite me hither. I must call thee, My better Genius, have you known this youth? Your Grace much honours me, Till this white hour, these walls were never proud, T'inclose a guest, the genius of our house, Is by so great a presence waked, and glories, To entertain you. Of, fair my Lord? Dost kneel, And call thy self accuser? The day breaks glorious to my darkened thoughts, He lives, he lives yet, cease ye amorous fears, More to perplex me, prithee speak sweet youth, How far S my Lord? upon my Virgin heart, I'll bui'd a flaming Altar, to offer up A thank full Sacrifice for his return, To life and me, speak and increase my comforts, Is he in perfect health? The Suns loved flower, that shuts his yellow cur taine, When he declineth, opens it again At his fair rising, with my parting Lord, I closed all my delights, till his approach, It shall not spread it self. Beside the honour done to me, your person Will add much comfort to Astella, your Weak Lady, Art thou returned already? why were you So rude to make him wait. Time has no feathers, he walks now on crut ches, Relate his gesture when he gave thee this, What other words, did mirth smile on his brow, I would not for the wealth of this great world, He should suspect my faith, what said he prithee, Be less officious, you forget— Sweet youth, go forward with thy story. It cannot. Do not believe it youth, by all the faith Of Virgins I'll not change my service, to Thy Master for his Dukedom. How now? Attend him? Stay it can do no harm. You may hear all, Enter Lodwieke, and Piero. And when you please appear. Your Grace is here most welcome, You wo'd not poison her? My Lord he is gone. Departed sick. Your Wife my Lord, why you are married, What Shall become of her? May I obtain so great a favour Sir, You'd be my Gum to in absence of the Duke, I'm but ambitious, to remember His health in Greek -wine. Will you not see the Prince again? The Mandrake hath no voice Like this, the Raven, and the night birds sing More soft, nothing in Nature, to which fear Hath made us superstitious, but speaks gently Compared with thee, discharge thy fatal burden, I am prepared, or stay, but answer me, I will and save thee breath, and quickly know The total of my sorrow, is Fos ari Dead since I saw thee last? Or hath some wound, Or other dire misfortune sealed him for The graven, that though he yet live, I may bid My heart despair to see him? My love to him thou servest, hath found a pardon Already for it, be it and offence Against my life. I want my understanding. Distempered. I will engage sheele not offend you I hope dread Sir, my house affords no object, To interrupt your quiet. He's a pretty youth. 'Tis too true my Lord. But are you sure sheele die? Upon what offence can you pretend a Divorce? My Lord. Dost thou mock again? Begun, And never see me more, who ever knew Falsehood so ripe at thy years? I'm not worthy, And needs must sink, under the weight of such A title, my humblest Service to his Grace, I am his beades-woman.