To give him welcome.

Imo. Continues well my Lord His health, 'beseech you?

Iach. Well, Madam.

Imo. Is he difpos'd to mirth? I hope, he is. Iach. Exceeding pleasant; none a stranger there So merry, and fo gamefome; he is call'd The Britaine Reveller.

Imo. When he was here,

He did incline to sadness, and oft times
Not knowing why.

Iach. I never faw him fad,

There is a Frenchman his companion, one,
An eminent Monfieur, that, it seems, much loves
A Gallian girl at home. He furnaces

The thick fighs from him; whiles the jolly Briton,
(Your Lord, I mean,) laughs from's free lungs, cries
Oh!

Can my fides hold, to think, that man, who knows
By hiftory, report, or his own proof,

What woman is, yea, what fhe cannot chufe
But muft be, will his free hours languish out
For affur'd bondage?

Imo. Will my Lord say fo?

Iach. Ay, Madam, with his eyes in flood with laughter.

It is a recreation to be by,

And hear him mock the Frenchman: but heav'n knows,

Some men are much to blame.

Imo. Not he, I hope.

lach. Not he. But yet heav'n's bounty tow'rds him might

Be us'd more thankfully. In himself, 'tis much; In you, whom I count his, beyond all talents; Whilft I ain bound to wonder, I am bound

To pity too.

Imo. What do you pity, Sir?
Iach. Two creatures heartily.
Imo. Am I one, Sir?

You look on me; what wreck difcern you in me,
Deserves your pity

Iach. Lamentable! what!

To hide me from the radiant fun, and folace
I' th' dungeon by a snuff?

Imo. I pray you, Sir,

Deliver with more openness your answers:

To my demands.

Why do you pity me?

but

Iach. That others do,

I was about to fay, enjoy your

It is an office of the Gods to venge it,

Not mine to speak on't.

Imo. You do seem to know

Something of me, or what concerns me; pray

you,

(Since doubting things go ill, often hurts more
Than to be fure they do; for certainties
Or are paft remedies, or timely knowing,
The remedy then born ;) discover to me
What both you fpur and stop.

Iach. Had I this cheek

To bath my lips upon; this hand, whofe touch,
Whofe ev'ry touch would force the feeler's foul
To th' oath of loyalty; this object, which
Takes pris'ner the wild motion of mine eye,
Fixing it only here; fhould I, (damn'd them,)
Slaver with lips, as common as the stairs
That mount the Capitol; join gripes with hands
Made hard with hourly falfhood, as with labour;
Then glad myself by peeping in an eye,
Bafe and unluftrous as the fmoaky light
That's fed with stinking tallow; it were fit,
That all the plagues of hell should at one time
Encounter fuch revolt.

Imo.

Inclin'd to this intelligence, pronounce

The beggary of this change; but 'tis your graces, That from my muteft confcience, to my tongue, Charms this report out.

Imo. Let me hear no more.

Iach. Oh dearest foul! your cause doth strike my heart

With pity, that doth make me fick. A Lady
So fair, and faften'd to an empery,

Would make the great'ft King double! to be partner'd
With tomboys, hir'd with that felf-exhibition
Which your own coffers yield!-with difeas'd

ventures,

That play with all infirmities for gold,

Which rottennefs lends nature! fuch boyl'd stuff,
As well might poifon Poison! Be reveng'd;
Or fhe, that bore you, was no Queen, and you
Recoil from your great stock.

Imo. Reveng'd!

How should I be reveng'd, if this be true?
(As I have fuch a heart, that both mine ears
Muft not in hafte abuse;) if it be true,

How fhall I be reveng'd?

Iach. Should he make me

Live like Diana's Prieft, betwixt cold fheets?
Whiles he is vaulting variable ramps

In your despight, upon your purfe? Revenge it: -
I dedicate myself to your fweet pleasure,

More noble than that runagate to your bed;
And will continue faft to your affection,

Still clofe, as fure.

Imo. What ho, Pifanio!.

Iach. Let me my fervice tender on your lips.
Imo. Away!-I do condemn mine ears, that have

So long attended thee. If thou wert honourable,
Thou would't have told this tale for virtue, not
For fuch an end thou feek'ft; as bafe, as ftrange:
Thou wrong'ft a Gentleman, who is as far
From thy report, as thou from honour; and
Sollicit'ft here a Lady, that difdains

Thee, and the Devil alike. What ho, Pifanio!-
The King my father fhall be made acquainted
Of thy affault; if he fhall think it fit,
A faucy ftranger in his court to mart
As in a Romish ftew, and to expound
His beatly mind to us; he hath a court
He little cares for, and a daughter whom
He not respects at all. What ho, Pifanio!
Iach. O happy Leonatus, I may fay;
The credit, that thy Lady hath of thee,
Deferves thy truft, and thy moft perfect goodness
Her affur'd credit! bleffed live you long,

A Lady to the worthiest Sir, that ever
Country call'd his! and you his mistress, only
For the most worthieft fit! Give me your pardon.
I have spoke this, to know if your affiance
Were deeply rooted; and fhall make your Lord,
That which he is, new o'er: and he is one
The trueft-manner'd, fuch a holy witch,

That he enchants focieties into him:

Half all men's hearts are his.

Imo. You make amends.

Jach. He fits 'mong men, like a defcended God: He hath a kind of honour fets him off, More than a mortal feeming. Be not angry, Moft mighty Princefs, that I have adventur'd To try your taking of a falfe report; which hath Honour'd with confirmation your great judgment, In the election of a Sir, fo rare,

Which, you know, cannot err. The love I bear him, Made me to fan you thus; but the Gods made you, Vo L. VII.

S

Un

Unlike all others, chafflefs. Pray, your pardon.

Imo. All's well, Sir; take my pow'r i' th' court for yours.

Iach. My humble thanks; I had almoft forgot
T' intreat your Grace but in a small request,
And yet of moment too, for it concerns
Your Lord; myself, and other noble friends
Are partners in the business.

Imo. Pray, what is't?

Iach. Some dozen Romans of us, and your Lord, (Beft feather of our wing,) have mingled fums To buy a prefent for the Emperor :

Which I, the factor for the reft, have done
In France; 'tis plate of rare device, and jewels
Of rich and exquifite form, their values great;
And I am something curious, being strange,
To have them in fafe ftowage: may it please you
To take them in protection?

Imo. Willingly;

And pawn mine honour for their fafety. Since
My Lord hath int'reft in them, I will keep them
In my bed-chamber.

Iach. They are in a trunk,

Attended by my men: I will make bold

To fend them to you, only for this night;
I must aboard to morrow.j

Imo. Ono, no.

my word,

Iach. Yes, I beseech you: or I fhall short
By length'ning my return. From Gallia,
I crofs'd the feas on purpose, and on promise
To fee your Grace.

Imo. I thank you for your pains;

But not away to morrow?

Iach. O, I muft, Madam.

Therefore, I fhall befeech

you, if you please'

To greet your lord 'with writing, do't to night.
I have outstood my time, which is material

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