Than all diseases I have tasted yet

Had power to asperse upon me; and yet, lady,

I could say something, durst I.

Pet. Speak 't at once.

Mont. And yet

Pet. Nay, but we 'll admit no pause.

Mont. I know not how my phrase may relish you, And loth I were to offend; even in what 's past I must confess I was too bold. Farewell;

I shall no more distaste you.

Pet. Sir, you do not;

I do proclaim you do not. Stay, I charge you;
Or, as you say you have been fortune's scorn,
So ever prove to woman.

Mont. You charge deeply,
And yet now I bethink me

Pet. As you are a soldier,

And Englishman, have hope to be redeem'd
From this your scorned bondage you sustain,
Have comfort in your mother and fair sister,
Renown so blazed in the ears of Spain,
Hope to rebreathe that air you tasted first,
So tell me

Mont. What?

Pet. Your apprehension catch'd, And almost was in sheaf

Mont. Lady, I shall.

Pet. And in a word.

Mont. I will.

Pet. Pronounce it then.

Mont. I love you.

Pet. Ha, ha, ha.

Mont. Still it is my misery

Thus to be mock'd in all things.

Pet. Pretty, faith.

Mont. I look'd thus to be laught at; my estate

And fortunes, I confess, deserve no less;

That made me so unwilling to denounce
Mine own derisions: but alas! I find
No nation, sex, complexion, birth, degree,
But jest at want, and mock at misery.

Pet. Love me?

Mont. I do, I do; and maugre Fate,
And spite of all sinister evil, shall.
And now I charge you, by that filial zeal
You owe your father, by the memory
Of your dear mother, by the joys you hope
In blessed marriage, by the fortunate issue
Stored in your womb, by these and all things else
That you can style with goodness; instantly
Without evasion, trick, or circumstance,
Nay, least premeditation, answer me,

Affect you me, or no?

Pet. How speak you that?

Mont. Without demur or pause.

Pet. Give me but time

To sleep upon 't.

Mont. I pardon you no minute; not so much,
As to apparel the least phrase you speak.
Speak in the shortest sentence.

Pet. You have vanquish'd me,

At mine own weapon: noble sir, I love you :
And what my heart durst never tell my tongue,
Lest it should blab my thoughts, at last I speak,
And iterate; I love you.

Mont. Oh, my happiness!

What wilt thou feel me still art thou not weary
Of making me thy May-game, to possess me
Of such a treasure's mighty magazine,

Not suffer me to enjoy it; tane with this hand,
With that to give 't another!

Pet. You are sad, Sir;

Be so no more: if you have been dejected,
It lies in me to mount you to that height
You could not aim at greater. I am yours.
These lips, that only witness it in air,
Now with this truth confirm it.

Mont. I was born to 't

And it shall out at once.

Pet. Sir, you seem passionate;

As if my answer pleas'd not.

Mont. Now my death;

[Kisses him.

For mine own tongue must kill me: noble Lady,
You have endear'd me to you, but my vow
Was, ne'er to match with any, of what state
Or birth soever, till before the contract
Some one thing I impose her.

Pet. She to do it?

Mont. Or, if she fail me in my first demand, I to abjure her ever.

Pet. I am she,

That beg to be imploy'd so: name a danger,
Whose very face would fright all womanhood,
And manhood put in trance, nay, whose aspect
Would ague such as should but hear it told;
But to the sad beholder, prove like those
That gaz'd upon Medusa's snaky locks,

And turn'd them into marble: these and more,
Should you but speak 't, I'd do.

Mont. And swear to this?

Pet. I vow it by my honour, my best hopes, And all that I wish gracious: name it then, For I am in a longing in my soul,

To shew my love's expression.

Mont. You shall then

Pet. I'll do it, as I am a Virgin :

Lie it within mortality, I'll do it.

Mont. You shall

Pet. I will that which appears in you
So terrible to speak, I'll joy to act;
And take pride in performance.

Mont. Then you shall

Pet. What soldier, what?

Mont. love noble Valladaura;

And at his soonest appointment marry him.
Pet. Then I am lost.-

Miracle of Beauty.

I remember*,

There lived a Spanish Princess of our name,
An Isabella too, and not long since,
Who from her palace windows stedfastly

* A proud Spanish Princess relates this.

Gazing upon the Sun, her hair took fire.
Some augurs held it as a prodigy :

I rather think that she was Latona's brood,
And that Apollo courted her bright hair;
Else, envying that her tresses put down his,
He scorcht them off in envy: nor dare I
(From her deriv'd) expose me to his beams;
Lest, as he burns the Phoenix in her nest,
Made of the sweetest aromatic wood,
Either in love, or envy, he agree

To use the like combustion upon me.

THE ROYAL KING AND THE LOYAL SUBJECT. BY THOMAS HEYWOOD.

Noble Traitor.

A Persian History

I read of late, how the great Sophy once
Flying a noble Falcon at the Herne,

In comes by chance an Eagle sousing by:

Which when the Hawk espies, leaves her first game,
And boldly ventures on the King of Birds;
Long tugg'd they in the air, till at the length
The Falcon (better breath'd) seiz'd on the Eagle,
And struck it dead. The Barons prais'd the Bird,
And for her courage she was peerless held.
The Emperor, after some deliberate thoughts,
Made her no less; he caus'd a crown of gold
To be new fram'd, and fitted to her head,
In honour of her courage: then the Bird,
With great applause, was to the market place
In triumph borne; where, when her utmost worth
Had been proclaim'd, the common executioner
First by the King's command took off her crown,
And after with a sword struck off her head,
As one no better than a noble Traitor
Unto the King of Birds.

97

A WOMAN KILL'D WITH KINDNESS:

A TRAGEDY. BY THOMAS HEYWOOD.

MR. FRANKFORD discovers that his Wife has been unfaithful to him.

Mrs. Fra. O by what words, what title, or what name Shall I entreat your pardon? Pardon! oh!

I am as far from hoping such sweet grace,
As Lucifer from heaven. To call you husband!
(O me most wretched !) I have lost that name,
I am no more your wife.

Fran. Spare thou thy tears, for I will weep for thee, And keep thy countenance, for I'll blush for thee. Now, I protest, I think, 'tis I am tainted,

For I am most asham'd; and 'tis more hard

For me to look upon thy guilty face,

Than on the sun's clear brow: what wouldst thou speak? Mrs. Fra. I would I had no tongue, no ears, no eyes, No apprehension, no capacity.

When do you spurn me like a dog? when tread me Under feet? when drag me by the hair?

Tho' I deserve a thousand thousand fold

More than you can inflict: yet, once my husband,
For womanhood, to which I am a shame,
Though once an ornament; even for his sake
That hath redeem'd our souls, mark not my face,
Nor hack me with your sword: but let me go
Perfect and undeformed to my tomb.

I am not worthy that I should prevail
In the least suit ; no, not to speak to you,
Nor look on you, nor to be in your presence:
Yet as an abject this one suit I crave,

This granted, I am ready for my grave.

Fran. My God, with patience arm me! rise, nay rise,

And I'll debate with thee. Was it for want

Thou plaid'st the strumpet! Wast thou not supply'd

VOL. I.

F