FLORAMELL

The delian Lute is not more Musical Then thy sweere voice, O my Apollo speak, That with the wrapture of thy words, my soul May be entranced, and wish no other joys: That by the discord of two Broken harps, (Old and unfit for Lovers harmony) Our joys should suffer a distate of fear; And in our most delights a qualm of grief Run Like a vain of Led through a Gold-mine. We grow too jealous of our prosperous days, Making and evil, where no ill is meant: Like hallowed ground, love sanctifies this place, And will not suffer danger to intrude. Here we are ringed in earthly Paradise, And may have all the heaven to our selves: Be then Mistrust and exile from my breast, Where lives no jealousy, dwells present rest. And Like the best oblation for your wrath, Lo, I the subject of this variance fallen prostrate on my knee, to suffer death, Ere such a rude act, most vnfather-like, Be put in practice on so good a son. And such is mine to loose thy company. I would, and be inhumed within the ground, Rather then measure out a hated bed. All wet and weary with a boisterous storm, At last I have set my foot upon the Land; I tremble as a Fever shook my oynes, But 'tis the Ocean that has frozen me: Drop there thou moisture of a swelling Flood. And let me see, no Fisherman at hand, To tell me in what Coast I am arrived: Alas I see none, I shall die with cold. You seem to be of a Ma e que state, What should a poor distressed Gentlewoman, Trouble a person of such eminence? I have seen a King ere now, And by your Diadem you should be one: Pray, rather let me die then trouble you. Indeed I am but a poor Gentlewoman, Punished for wearing Jewels in a storm: But I have lost a husband whom I loved, For marrying whom, I have endured this cross; And now his friends, if they should find me out, Would finish what the storm has left undone. It Infortunio, as mine is, With the alteration of a letter only. May the Sea never use you of this fashion; I take your courtesy, and will attend. Does not Idolatrize, beauty's a flower, Which springs and withers almost in and hour: Sickness impairs it, but death kills it quite, It vades as fast as shadows in the night. Why should your Grace call it Divinity? There's nought divine, but that which cannot die. Least I offend by staying here too long, I'll take my leave, and so curb in my tongue. Madame. I am accused, that ought to be excused, And blamed as one unchaste, for being chaste. I Inchant the King, and use Medea's Art? Witchcraft I have always hated with my heart: And except Modesty a Circe be, I know no other kind of Sorcery. Your Highness sent me with a Cup of Wine Unto the King, the occasion of his wooing; Was it my fault to do your Highness will? Judge gracious Majesty but as you ought, And do not blame me for a Virgins trial: His love was answered with a strong denial; And so denied for ever shall he be, That seeks by such means to dishonour me. Before I wrong a Queen so truly kind, I'll mar my face, and make my sad eyes blind. A king say so, pardon me sir, your will I'll not obey. But your oath broken mainly run a away. Exit Floram. Never. My knife shall end me. I come Fythwaters flying. Alas Sir, 'tis but thin, And makes the more to I would be shifted into warmer Roa es, If I could meet with some kind Gentlewoman. The Saint of France forbid it, & all powers, That have continued both so long together In sacred rites of Marriage, heaven deny I should be Author of her Tragedy: Or give content where murder is opposed. If I should yield, and your Queen made away, Might you not use me so another day? 'Tis fearful building upon any sin, One mischief entered, brings another in: The second pulls a third, the third draws more, And they for all the rest set open the door: Till custom take away the judging sense, That to offend we think it no offence. Wherefore my Lord, kill mischief while 'tis small, So by degrees you may destroy it all. How is my heart tormented! Sir, I am very cold, and we, and , Would you could help me to a little fire To dry my self, and I would pray for you. To our Sex 'tis barred, We should be twice seen, ere we be once herd. Your Majesty called for a cup of wine. By all descriptions this should be the man, To whom I am directed by the Queen; But whom do I behold the young Fytzwaters? It is not meet I take acquaintance first, Nor will I till I know a joust cause why, Of his Familiar dealings with the Queen, Here is the key her Highness promiz'd you. You do me wrong, I hate incontinence, Nor did I ever love a wanton life: I am a desolate Lady, shipwracked here, And had a Husband once, too Like thy looks, But not of such a rude condition. O were he present, and should hear thee speak Such boisterous terms against his honoured wife, He would out of the virtue of his mind Knowing my conversation to be good, Write this base slander in thy villains blood. Kill me, kill me then. Having my sentence, wherefore am I sparde? Or do you take delight to torture me? Before you serve the Execution The Law requires no more but death for L st. The lingering is a no of Tyranny. It is sufficient that the wretch must die, The sooner done, the lesser cruelty. But if your conscience urge you to forbear, I shall confute your worthless Arguments, And tell you in the pureness of my soul, Report's a liar, common talk a Fool. Waiters & Grooms, lightheaded Like their plumes, And those that do attend in Princes Courts, Too active and quick-witted to deprave A Courting they proclaim for a consent, A favour for the deed, believe them not: It is too common, this they hourly do, And think none chased, but her whom none did woe , The Queen did see it, Urged by constraint, and Kingly violence. Upon condition he should woo no more: And for that kiss I am esteemed a whore: If you believe I am, I pray proceed, I kissed the King, do you a murderous deed. So then I am honest by your own con fession, But ere I entertain you as a Husband, I'll be resolved what Love has passed between The Queen and you, that you her Agent are, In such a weighty cause as is my life. I must know all. Father I may not. And so do I. My soul and body are the gift of heave ̄ , And I will use them to my Makers praise: If other service (great King)you require, I am ready, attend your hearts desire. His Highness here, then Floramell give back. On that condition, I will grant you one. Dian forbid, that were immodesty. Upon your Kingly Oath, Never hereafter to renew your suit. Take it. Think on your Oath. I am satisfied, rise love, and let us go, Theres no true joy without some taste of woe.