like Diana's Priest, betwixt cold sheets,
Whiles he is vaulting variable Rampes
In your despight, vpon your purse: reuenge it.
I dedicate my selfe to your sweet pleasure,
More Noble then that runnagate to your bed,
And will continue fast to your Affection,
Still close, as sure
Imo. What hoa, Pisanio?
Iach. Let me my seruice tender on your lippes
Imo. Away, I do condemne mine eares, that haue
So long attended thee. If thou wert Honourable
Thou would'st haue told this tale for Vertue, not
For such an end thou seek'st, as base, as strange:
Thou wrong'st a Gentleman, who is as farre
From thy report, as thou from Honor: and
Solicites heere a Lady, that disdaines
Thee, and the Diuell alike. What hoa, Pisanio?
The King my Father shall be made acquainted
Of thy Assault: if he shall thinke it fit,
A sawcy Stranger in his Court, to Mart
As in a Romish Stew, and to expound
His beastly minde to vs; he hath a Court
He little cares for, and a Daughter, who
He not respects at all. What hoa, Pisanio?
Iach. O happy Leonatus I may say,
The credit that thy Lady hath of thee
Deserues thy trust, and thy most perfect goodnesse
Her assur'd credit. Blessed liue you long,
A Lady to the worthiest Sir, that euer
Country call'd his; and you his Mistris, onely
For the most worthiest fit. Giue me your pardon,
I haue spoke this to know if your Affiance
Were deeply rooted, and shall make your Lord,
That which he is, new o're: And he is one
The truest manner'd: such a holy Witch,
That he enchants Societies into him:
Halfe all men hearts are his
Imo. You make amends
Iach. He sits 'mongst men, like a defended God;
He hath a kinde of Honor sets him off,
More then a mortall seeming. Be not angrie
(Most mighty Princesse) that I haue aduentur'd
To try your taking of a false report, which hath
Honour'd with confirmation your great Iudgement,
In the election of a Sir, so rare,
Which you know, cannot erre. The loue I beare him,
Made me to fan you thus, but the Gods made you
(Vnlike all others) chaffelesse. Pray your pardon
Imo. All's well Sir:
Take my powre i'th' Court for yours
Iach. My humble thankes: I had almost forgot
T' intreat your Grace, but in a small request,
And yet of moment too, for it concernes:
Your Lord, my selfe, and other Noble Friends
Are partners in the businesse
Imo. Pray what is't?
Iach. Some dozen Romanes of vs, and your Lord
(The best Feather of our wing) haue mingled summes
To buy a Present for the Emperor:
Which I (the Factor for the rest) haue done
In France: 'tis Plate of rare deuice, and Iewels
Of rich, and exquisite forme, their valewes great,
And I am something curious, being strange
To haue them in safe stowage: May it please you
To take them in protection
Imo. Willingly:
And pawne mine Honor for their safety, since
My Lord hath interest in them, I will keepe them
In my Bed-chamber
Iach. They are in a Trunke
Attended by my men: I will make bold
To send them to you, onely for this night:
I must aboord to morrow
Imo. O no, no
Iach. Yes I beseech: or I shall short my word
By length'ning my returne. From Gallia,
I crost the Seas on purpose, and on promise
To see your Grace
Imo. I thanke you for your paines:
But not away to morrow
Iach. O I must Madam.
Therefore I shall beseech you, if you please
To greet your Lord with writing, doo't to night,
I haue out-stood my time, which is materiall
To'th' tender of our Present
Imo. I will write:
Send your Trunke to me, it shall safe be kept,
And truely yeelded you: you're very welcome.
Exeunt.
Actus Secundus. Scena Prima
Enter Clotten, and the two Lords.
Clot. Was there euer man had such lucke? when I kist the Iacke vpon an vp-cast, to be hit away? I had a hundred pound on't: and then a whorson Iacke-an-Apes, must take me vp for swearing, as if I borrowed mine oathes of him, and might not spend them at my pleasure
1. What got he by that? you haue broke his pate
with your Bowle
2. If his wit had bin like him that broke it: it would
haue run all out
Clot. When a Gentleman is dispos'd to sweare: it is
not for any standers by to curtall his oathes. Ha?
2. No my Lord; nor crop the eares of them
Clot. Whorson dog: I gaue him satisfaction? would
he had bin one of my Ranke
2. To haue smell'd like a Foole
Clot. I am not vext more at any thing in th' earth: a pox on't I had rather not be so Noble as I am: they dare not fight with me, because of the Queene my Mother: euery Iacke-Slaue hath his belly full of Fighting, and I must go vp and downe like a Cock, that no body can match
2. You are Cocke and Capon too, and you crow
Cock, with your combe on
Clot. Sayest thou?
2. It is not fit your Lordship should vndertake euery
Companion, that you giue offence too
Clot. No, I know that: but it is