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& Thra. Nay, good my lord, be patient. Cle. Sir, remember this is your honoured friend, 80

That comes to do his service, and will show you
Why he uttered this.

I ask you pardon, sir;
My zeal to truth made me unmannerly:
Should I have heard dishonour spoke of you,
Behind your back, untruly, I had been

As much distempered and enraged as now.
Dion. But this, my lord, is truth.

Oh, say not so!
Good sir, forbear to say so; 'tis then truth,
That all womankind is false : urge it no more;
It is impossible. Why should you


90 The princess light? Dion.

Why, she was taken at it. Phi. 'Tis false! by Heaven, 'tis false ! it cannot

be !
Can it ? Speak, gentlemen ; for love of truth,

Is't possible? Can women all be damned?
Dion. Why, no, my lord.

Why, then, it cannot be.
Dion. And she was taken with her boy.

What boy?
Dion. A page, a boy that serves her.

Oh, good gods ! A little boy?



Ay; know you him, my lord ?
Phi. Hell and sin know him! (Aside.]-Sir, you are

I'll reason it a little coldly with you :
If she were lustful, would she take a boy,
That knows not yet desire ? she would have one
Should meet her thoughts and know the sin he

Which is the great delight of wickedness.

You are abused, and so is she, and I.
Dion. How you, my lord ?

Why, all the world's abused
In an unjust report.

Oh, noble sir, your virtues
Cannot look into the subtle thoughts of woman !

In short, my lord, I took them ; I myself.
Phi. Now, all the devils, thou didst ! Fly from my

rage ! Would thou hadst ta’en deyils engendering plagues, When thou didst take them! Hide thee from my


eyes !

Would thou hadst taken thunder on thy breast,
When thou didst take them; or been strucken

For ever ; that this foul deed might have slept

In silence !

Have you known him so ill-tempered ? Cle. Never before.

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The winds, that are let loose
From the four several corners of the earth,
And spread themselves all over sea and land,
Kiss not a chaste one. What friend bears a sword

To run me through?

Why, my lord, are you
So moved at this?

When any fall from virtue,
I am distract; I have an interest in't.
Dion. But, good my lord, recall yourself, and think

What's best to be done.

I thank you; I will do it:
Please you to leave me; I'll consider of it.
To-morrow I will find your lodging forth,

And give you answer.

All the gods direct you
The readiest way!

He was extreme impatient.
Cle. It was his virtue and his noble mind.

130 [Exeunt Dion, Cleremont, and Thrasiline. Phi. I had forgot to ask him where he took them ;

I'll follow him. Oh, that I had a sea
Within my breast, to quench the fire I feel !
More circumstances will but fan this fire :
It more afflicts me now, to know by whom
This deed is done, than simply that 'tis done;
And he that tells me this is honourable,
As far from lies as she is far from truth.

Oh that, like beasts, we could not grieve ourselves
With that we see not! Bulls and rams will fight
To keep their females, standing in their sight; 141
But take 'em from them, and you take at once
Their spleens away; and they will fall again
Unto their pastures, growing fresh and fat;
And taste the water of the springs as sweet
As 'twas before, finding no start in sleep :
But miserable man

Enter Bellario.

See, see, you gods,
He walks still; and the face you let him wear
When he was innocent is still the same,
Not blasted! Is this justice ? do you mean 150
To intrap mortality, that you

Treason so smooth a brow? I cannot now
Think he is guilty.

[Aside. Bel.

Health to you, my

lord ! The princess doth commend her love, her life, And this, unto you.

[Gives a letter. Phi.

Oh Bellario,
Now I perceive she loves me! she does show it

In loving thee, my boy: she has made thee brave. Bel. My lord, she has attired me past my wish,

Past my desert ; more fit for her attendant,
Though far unfit for me who do attend.

160 Phi. Thou art grown cou boy.-Oh, let all women,

That love black deeds, learn to dissemble here,
Here, by this paper! She does write to me
As if her heart were mines of adamant
To all the world besides ; but, unto me,
A maiden-snow that melted with my looks.

[Aside. Tell me, my boy, how doth the princess use thee?

For I shall guess her love to me by that.
Bel. Scarce like her servant, but as if I were

Something allied to her, or had preserved 170
Her life three times by my fidelity ;
As mothers fond do use their only sons,
As I'd use one that's left unto my trust,
For whom my life should pay if he met harm,

So she does use me.

Why, this is wondrous well: But what kind language does she feed thee with? Bel. Why, she does tell me she will trust my youth

With all her loving secrets, and does call me
Her pretty servant ; bids me weep no more
For leaving you ; she'll see my services 180
Regarded : and such words of that soft strain,
That I am nearer weeping when she ends

Than ere she spake.

This is much better still.
Bel. Are you not ill, my lord ?

Ill? no, Bellario.
Rel. Methinks your words

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