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That love black deeds, learn to diffemble here!
Here, by this paper she does write to me,
As if her heart were mines of adamant
To all the world befides; but, unto me,

A maiden fnow that melted with my looks.
Tell me, my boy, how doth the princess use thee?
For I fhall guefs her love to me by that.

Bel. Scarce like her servant, but as if I were
Something allied to her, or had preferv'd
Her life three times by my fidelity:

As mothers fond do ufe their only fons ;
As I'd use one that's left unto my trust,
For whom my life should pay, if he met harm;
So fhe does ufe me.

Phi. Why, this is wondrous well!

But what kind language does fhe feed thee with ?
Bel. Why, fhe does tell me, she will truft my youth
With all her loving fecrets; and does call me
Her pretty fervant; bids me weep no more
For leaving you; fhe'll fee my fervices
Rewarded; and fuch words of that foft ftrain,
That I am nearer weeping when she ends
Than ere the fpake.

Phi. This is much better ftill,
Bel. Are you not ill, my lord?
Phi. Ill! no, Bellario.

Bel

Bel. Methinks your words

Fall not from off your tongue fo evenly,
Nor is there in your looks that quietness,
That I was wont to fee.

Phi. Thou art deceiv'd, boy:

And she strokes thy head?

Bel. Yes.

Phi. And does clap thy cheeks?

Bel. She does, my lord.

Phi. And she does kifs thee, boy? ha?

Bel. How, my lord!

Phi. She kiffes thee?

Bel. Not fo, my lord.

Phi. Come, come, I know she does.

Bel. No, by my life.

Phi. Why, then she does not love me; come,

The does,

I bad her do it; I charg'd her by all charms
Of love between us, by the hope of peace
We fhould enjoy, to yield thee all delights.
Tell me, gentle boy,

Is the not past compare? Is not her breath
Sweet as Arabian winds, when fruits are ripe?
Is fhe not all a lasting mine of joy?

Bel. Ay, now I fee why my difturbed thoughts Were fo perplex'd. When first I went to her,

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My heart held augury; you are abus'd;
Some villain has abus'd you: I do fee
Whereto you tend: Fall rocks upon his head,
That put this to you! 'tis fome subtle train,
To bring that noble frame of yours to nought.
Phi. Thou think❜ft, I will be angry with thee;

come,

Thou shalt know all my drift: I hate her more Than I love happiness; and plac'd thee there, with narrow eyes into her deeds.

To pry

Haft thou difcover'd? Is the fall'n to luft,

As I would wish her? Speak fome comfort to me.

Bel. My lord, you did mistake the boy you fent: Had fhe a fin that way, hid from the world, Beyond the name of fin, I would not aid Her bafe defires; but what I came to know As fervant to her, I would not reveal, To make life laft ages.

my

Phi. Oh, my heart!

This is a falve worfe than the main disease.

Tell me thy thoughts; for I will know the least
That dwells within thee, or will rip thy heart

To know it; I will fee thy thoughts as plain
As I do now thy face.

Bel. Why, fo you do.

She is (for aught I know) by all the gods,

As

As chafte as ice; but were the foul as hell,
And did I know it thus, the breath of kings,

The points of swords, tortures, nor bulls of brass, Should draw it from me.

Phi. Then it is no time

To dally with thee; I will take thy life,

For I do hate thee; I could curfe thee now.

Bel. If you do hate, you could not curfe me worse; The gods have not a punishment in store Greater for me, than is your hate.

Phi. Fy, fy!

So young and fo diffembling! Tell me when And where thou didst poffefs her, or let plagues Fall on me ftraight, if I destroy thee not!

Bel. Heav'n knows, I never did: And when I lie To fave my life, may I live long and loath'd! Hew me afunder, and, whilst I can think,

I'll love those pieces you have cut away,

Better than those that grow; and kifs those limbs, Because you made them fo.

Phi. Fear'st thou not death?

Can boys contemn that?

Bel. Oh, what boy is he

Can be content to live to be a man,

That fees the best of men thus paffionate,

Thus without reason?

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Phi. Oh, but thou doft not know What 'tis to die.

Bel. Yes, I do know, my lord ;
"Tis less than to be born; a lafting sleep,
A quiet resting from all jealoufy;

A thing we all pursue: I know, besides,
It is but giving over of a game

That must be loft.

Phi. But there are pains, false boy,

For perjur'd fouls; think but on these, and then
Thy heart will melt, and thou wilt utter all.
Bel. May they fall all upon me whilst I live,
If I be perjur'd, or have ever thought
Of that you charge me with! If I be false,
Send me to fuffer in those punishments
You speak of! kill me.

Phi. Oh, what fhould I do?

Why, who can but believe him? He does fwear So earnestly, that if it were not true,

The gods would not endure him. Rife, Bellario;
Thy proteftations are so deep, and thou

Doft look fo truly, when thou utter'ft them,
That though I know 'em false as were my hopes,
I cannot urge thee further: But thou wert
To blame to injure me; for I must love
Thy honest looks, and take no vengeance on

Thy

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