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And reason have you, Madam, for the same.
Lord Marques, I commit unto your charge The entertainment of Sir Robert here; Let him remain with you within the Court, In solace and disport to spend the time.
ROBERT WINDSOR.
I thank your highness, whose bounden I remain.
[Exit King of Denmark. Blanch speaketh this secretly at one end of the stage.]
Unhappy Blanch, what strange effects are these That works within my thoughts confusedly?
That still, me thinks, affection draws me on, To take, to like, nay more, to love this Knight?
ROBERT WINDSOR.
A modest countenance; no heavy sullen look; Not very fair, but richly deckt with favour; A sweet face, an exceeding dainty hand; A body were it framed of wax By all the cunning artists of the world, It could not better be proportioned.
LUBECK.
How now, Sir Robert? in a study, man?
Here is no time for contemplation.
ROBERT WINDSOR.
My Lord, there is a certain odd conceit, Which on the sudden greatly troubles me.
LUBECK.
How like you Blanch? I partly do perceive The little boy hath played the wag with you.
SIR ROBERT.
The more I look the more I love to look.
Who says that Mariana is not fair?
I'll gage my gauntlet gainst the envious man That dares avow there liveth her compare.
LUBECK.
Sir Robert, you mistake your counterfeit.
This is the Lady which you came to see.
SIR ROBERT.
Yes, my Lord: She is counterfeit in deed, For there is the substance that best contents me.
LUBECK.
That is my love. Sir Robert, you do wrong me.
ROBERT.
The better for you, sir, she is your Love-- As for the wrong, I see not how it grows.
LUBECK.
In seeking that which is anothers right.
ROBERT.
As who should say your love were privileged, That none might look upon her but your self.
LUBECK.
These jars becomes not our familiarity, Nor will I stand on terms to move your patience.
ROBERT.
Why, my Lord, am Not I of flesh and blood as well as you?
Then give me leave to love as well as you.
LUBECK.
To Love, Sir Robert? but whom? not she I Love?
Nor stands it with the honor my state To brook corrivals with me in my love.
ROBERT.
So, Sir, we are thorough for that Lady.
Ladies, farewell. Lord Marques, will you go?
I will find a time to speak with her, I trowe.
LUBECK.
With all my heart. Come, Ladies, will you walk?
[Exit.]
SCENE IV.
The English Court.
[Enter Manvile alone, disguised.]
MANVILE.
Ah, Em! the subject of my restless thoughts, The Anvil whereupon my heart doth be Framing thy state to thy desert-- Full ill this life becomes thy heavenly look, Wherein sweet love and vertue sits enthroned.
Bad world, where riches is esteemd above them both, In whose base eyes nought else is bountifull!
A Millers daughter, says the mult.i.tude, Should not be loved of a Gentleman.
But let them breath their souls into the air, Yet will I still affect thee as my self, So thou be constant in thy plighted vow.
But here comes one--I will listen to his talk.
[Manvile stays, hiding himself.]
[Enter Valingford at another door, disguised.]
VALINGFORD.
Go, William Conqueror, and seek thy love Seek thou a minion in a foreign land, Whilest I draw back and court my love at home.
The millers daughter of fair Manchester Hath bound my feet to this delightsome soil, And from her eyes do dart such golden beams That holds my heart in her subjection.
MANVILE.
He ruminates on my beloved choice: G.o.d grant he come not to prevent my hope.
But here's another, him I'll listen to.
[Enter Mountney, disguised, at another door.]
LORD MOUNTNEY.
Nature unjust, in utterance of thy art, To grace a peasant with a Princes fame!
