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A simple innocence in me, perhaps
Might have been craft, the cunning of a boy
Harden'd in lies and theft; yet ventur'd you
To part my miseries and me: For which,
I never can expect to serve a lady,
That bears more honour in her breast than you.

Phi. But, boy, it will prefer thee; thou art young,
And bear'ít a childish overflowing love
To them that clap thy cheeks, and speak thee fair.
But when thy judgment comes to rule those passions,
Thou wilt remember beft those careful friends
That plac'd thee in the noblest way of life. .
She is a princess I prefer thee to.

Bel. In that small time that I have seen the world,
I never knew a man hafty to part with
A fervant he thought trusty: I remember,
My father would prefer the boys he kept
To greater men than he; but did it not,
'Till they were grown too faucy for himself.

Phi. Why, gentle boy, I find no fault at all
In thy behaviour.

Bel. Sir, if I have made
A fault of ignorance, instruct my youth;
I shall be willing, if not apt, to learn:
Age and experience will adorn my mind
With larger knowledge: And if I have done

A wilful

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D 2

A wilful fault, think me not paft all hope
For once. What master holds so ftrict a hand
Over his boy, that he will part with him
Without one warning ? Let me be corrected,
To break my stubbornness, if it be fo,
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'st,
It is my business that doth call thee hence;
And, when thou art with her, thoudwell'st with me;
Think so, and 'tis fo; and when time is full,
That thou hast well discharg'd this heavy trust,
Laid on so weak a one, I will again
With joy receive thee; as I live, I will.
Nay, weep not, gentle boy. ?Tis more than time
Thou didst attend the princess.

Bel. I am gone ; But since I am to part with you, my lord, And none knows whether I shall live to do More service for you, take this little prayer ; Heav'n bless your loves, your fights, all your designs! May fick men, if they have your wish, be well! And Heav?n hate those you curse, though I be one !

[Exit. Phi. The love of boys unto their lords is strange!

I have read wonders of it! yet this boy,
For my fake (if a man may judge by looks
And speech) would out-do story. I may see
A day to pay him for his loyalty.

[Exit. Scene changes to Arethufds apartment.

Enter Arethufa and a Lady.
Are. Where's the boy? where's Bellario?
Lady. Within, madam.
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 says she has done that you would have wifh'd.

Are. Hast thou discover'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 discover all.
D 3


Are. The king shall know this; and if destiny, To whom we dare not say, “It shall not be,' Have not decreed it so in lasting leaves, Whose smallest characters were never chang'd, This hated match with Pharamond shall break. Run back into the presence, mingle there Again with other ladies; leave the rest To me. Where is the boy?

[Exit Gal. Lady. Here, madam.

Enter Bellario.

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 service.

Are, Thou disclaim'it in me.
Tell me, Bellario, thou can't fing and play?

Bel. If grief will give me leave, madam, I can.
Are. Alas! what kind of grief can thy years

Had'st a curst master 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 seeks out wrinkled brows and hollow eyes,
And builds himself caves to abide in them.


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Come; Sir, tell me truly, does your lord love me?

Bel. Love, madam? I know not what it is.
Are. Canst thou know grief, and never yet

knew'ft love?
Thou art deceiv'd, boy. Does he speak of me,
As if he wish'd me well ?

Bel. If it be love;
To forget all respect of his own friends,
In thinking on your face; if it be love,
To fit cross-arm’d, and sigh away the day,
Mingled with starts, crying your name as

And hastily, as men i'th' streets do fire
If it be love, to weep himself away,
When he but hears of any lady dead,
Or kill'd, because it might have been your chance ;
If, when he goes to rest (which will not be)
'Twixt ev'ry prayer he says, he names you once
As others drop a bead; be to be in love,
Thien, madam, I dare swear he loves you.

Aré. Oh! You are a cunning boy, taught to deceive, For your lord's credit: But thou know'st a falfhood That bears this found, is welcomer to me, Than any truth, that says, he loves me not. Lead the way, boy. Do


attend me too ; 'Tis thy lord's business haftes me thus. Away. [Exe. D4


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