A fimple innocence in me, perhaps Might have been craft, the cunning of a boy That bears more honour in her breaft than you. To them that clap thy cheeks, and speak thee fair. Bel. In that small time that I have feen the world, I never knew a man hafty to part with Bel. Sir, if I have made A fault of ignorance, inftruct my youth; D 2 A wilful A wilful fault, think me not past all hope Over his boy, that he will part with him Rather than turn me off, and I shall mend. Phi. Thy love doth plead so prettily to stay, That, trust me, I could weep to part with thee. Alas! I do not turn thee off; thou know'ft, It is my business that doth call thee hence; And, when thou art with her, thou dwell'ft with me; With joy receive thee; as I live, I will. Nay, weep not, gentle boy. Tis more than time Bel. I am gone; But fince I am to part with you, my lord, And none knows whether I fhall live to do More fervice for you, take this little prayer: Heav'n bless your loves, your fights, all your designs! [Exit. Phi. The love of boys unto their lords is strange! 1 I have read wonders of it! yet this boy, A day to pay him for his loyalty. I may fee Scene changes to Arethufa's apartment. Enter Arethufa and a Lady. Are. Where's the boy? where's Bellario? [Exit. Are. Gave you him gold to buy him clothes? Lady. I did. Are. And has he done't? Lady. Madam, not yet. Are. 'Tis a pretty fad-talking boy; is it not? Enter Galatea. Are: Oh, you are welcome! What good news? Gal. As good as any one can tell your grace, That fays fhe has done that you would have wish'd. Are. Haft thou difcover'd then? Gal. I have. Your prince, Brave Pharamond's disloyal. Are. And with whom? Gal. Ev'n with the lady we fufpect; with Megra. Are. Oh, where? and when? Gal. I can difcover all. Are. The king fhall know this; and if destiny, To whom we dare not say, 'It shall not be,' Have not decreed it fo in lafting leaves, Whose smallest characters were never chang'd, This hated match with Pharamond fhall break. Run back into the prefence, mingle there Again with other ladies; leave the reft To me. Where is the boy? Lady. Here, madam. Enter Bellario. [Exit Gal. Are. Why art thou ever melancholy, Sir? You are fad to change your service: Is't not fo? Bel. Madam, I have not chang'd; I wait on you, To do him fervice. Are. Thou disclaim'ft in me. Tell me, Bellario, thou can't fing and play? I Bel. If grief will give me leave, madam, I can. Are. Alas! what kind of grief can thy years know? Had'ft a curft mafter when thou went'st to school? Thou art not capable of other grief: Thy brows and cheeks are smooth as waters be, When no breath troubles them: Believe me, boy, Care feeks out wrinkled brows and hollow eyes, And builds himself caves to abide in them. Come, Come, Sir, tell me truly, does your lord love me? Bel. Love, madam? I know not what it is. Are. Canft thou know grief, and never yet knew'ft love? Thou art deceiv'd, boy. Does he fpeak of me, Bel. If it be love; To forget all respect of his own friends, When he but hears of any lady dead, Or kill'd, because it might have been your chance; As others drop a bead; be to be in love, You are a cunning boy, taught to deceive, 'Tis thy lord's business haftes me thus. Away. [Exe. D 4 Scene |