[SCENE 1.]

Enter Constantine and Otho.

Constantine. How do'st thou like the lovely Euphrata?

Otho. I did not marke her.

Const. Then thou didst not marke The fairest Saxon Lady in mine eye That ever breath'd a maid.

Otho. Your minde now knowne, Ile say shee is the fairest in the world, Were she the foulest.

Con. Then thou canst dissemble.

Otho. You know I cannot; but, deare Constantine, I prethee tell me first, what is that Ladie, That wonder of her sexe, cal'd Euphrata? Whose daughter is she?

Const. I cannot blame thee, Otho, Though thou be ignorant of her high worth, Since here in Saxon we are strangers both; But if thou cal'st to minde why we left Meath, Reade the trice[162] reason in that Ladies eye, Daughter unto the Duke of Saxonie, Shee unto whom so many worthy Lords Vail'd Bonnet when she past the Triangle, Making the pavement Ivory where she trode.

Otho. She that so lightly toucht the marble path That leadeth from the Temple to the presence?

Const. The same.

Otho. Why, that was white before, White Marble, Constantine, whiter by odds Then that which lovers terme the Ivory hand, Nay then the Lillie whitenesse of her face.

Con. Come, thou art a cavilling companion: Because thou seest my heart is drown'd in love, Thou wilt drowne me too. I say the Ladie's faire; I say I love her, and in that more faire; I say she loves me, and in that most faire; Love doth attribute in Hyperbolies Unto his Mistris the creation Of every excellence, because in her His eies do dreame of perfect excellence.— And here she comes; observe her, gentle friend.

[Enter Euphrata.

Euph. Welcome, sweet Constantine.

Con. My Euphrata.

Euph. Thy Euphrata, be thou my Constantine. But what is he? a stranger, or thy friend?

Con. My second selfe, my second Euphrata. If thou beest mine, salute her, gentle Otho.

Otho. An humble and a true devoted heart I tender to you in a mindes chast kisse.

Euph. Welcome to me, since welcome to my friend.

Otho.—A beautiful, an admirable Ladie! I thinke 'tis fatall unto every friend Never to love, untill his friend first love, And then his choice; but sooner will I teare Out of this brest mine affection with my heart.

Euph. Hearing, sweet Constantine, thou wert so nere me, I came as I were winged to gaze on thee.

Con. And would to heaven there were no bar in time To hinder me from thy desired sight, But thousand sutors eyes, do watch my steps; And harke, I heare some trampling. How now, Julia?

Enter Julia.

Juli. Madam, the Lord Montano, spying you To leave the presence and to enter here, Hath ever since waited your comming foorth. And will not be denied untill he see you.

Euph. Of all my sutors, most importunate.

Con. What is he, love?

Euph. Of very noble birth, But my affection is not tyed to birth. I must dispense with this kind conference For some small time, untill I rid him hence. Therefore within my closet hide thy selfe; Your friend shall Julia guide into the garden, Where through a private doore, but seldome us'd, He may at pleasure leave us and returne. Deny me not I prethee, Constantine; Thou hast my heart, and would thy birth were such I need not feare t'avouch thee for my Love.

Otho. Madam, I take my leave. [Exit Otho.

Con. Farewell, deare friend, Returne as soone as may be; farewell Love. [Exit.

Euph. Now guide Montano hither.

Enter Montano.

Mon. Gracious Madam, I have seene the noble Palsgrave, the Prince Of Milleine, and the Palatine of the Rheine, With divers other honorable sutors, Mounted to ride unto their severall places.

Euph. Of me they took their farewell yesternight.

Mon. What meanes your grace to be so unkind to all? You drive away good fortune by disdaine.

Euph. Why are you grieving too?

Mon. I am your subject, The meanest that did humbly seeke your love, Yet not the meanest in affection; And I am come to take my farewell too.

Euph. Why, then farewell.

Mon. So short with them that love you?

Euph. Your journey may be great, for ought I know; And 'tis an argument of little love To be the hinderer of a traveller.

Mon. My journey, Madame, is unto my house, Scarce halfe a league hence, there to pine and die, Because I love such beauteous crueltie.

Euph. God speede you, sir.

Mon. Nay then I will not leave you. Madam, 'tis thought, and that upon good ground, You have shrin'd your affection in the heart Of some (whatere he be) noble or base, And thats the cause you lightlie censure[163] all.

Euph. Who thinkes it?

Mon. I doe, Madame, and your father.

Euph. It is upon my vowed chastitie.

Mon. What devill made you sweare to chastitie, Or have you tane that oath onely for a terme?

Euph. A terme, what terme?

Mon. A terme of some seven yeeres, Or peradventure halfe the number more.

Euph. For terme of life.

Mon. You have sworne, to be forsworne: He was no well disposed friend of yours That gave you consaile [sic] to forsweare such beautie. Why, 'tis as if some traveiler had found A mine of gold, and made no use of it. For terme of life! Why, then die presently; So shall your debt to nature be farre lesse, Your tyranny over man's yeelding heart Be lesse condemned. Oh, you were made for man, And living without man to murder men. If any creature be so fortunate That lives in grace of your all gracious selfe, Though I am well perswaded 'tis not I, I vow by all the rites of vertuous love, Be he ignoble, of the basest sort, To please you, Madame, Ile renounce my suite And be a speciall meane unto your father To grant your hearts affection, though I die.

Euph. Now, Lord Montano, you come neere my heart, And were I sure that you would keepe your word, As I am sure you love me by your deedes, I might perchance deliver you my thoughts.

Mon. By heaven and by your beauteous selfe I will.

Euph. Then, Constantine, come forth; behold thy friend.

Enter Constantine.

Con. Madame, what meane you, to reveale our love?

Mon. This is a very stubborne Gentleman. A Gentleman? a pesant! Saxonie, Affords not one more base.

Con. He does me wrong, That termes me meaner then a gentleman.

Mon. I tearme thee so.

Euph. Why, how now, Lord Montano? You do forget your oath.

Mont. And you your selfe, Your Princely father, and the Dukedomes honour, To chaine your liking to a groome so base.

Con. He lies that calles me groome.

Enter Julia.

Ju. O God, forbeare: His Excellence your father's comming hither.

Mon. He comes in happie time, to know the cause Why such great Princes have bin made your scorne.

Euph. What, will you tell him?

Mon. Will I? let me die Contemn'd of heaven, in publique obloquie, If I reveale not this lascivious course.

Ju. We are undone.

Con. Hence with this prating Maide. If thou hast any anger in thy brest Towards this Lady, turne it all on me. She is a woman, timerous by her kinde; I, man-like borne, and beare a man-like minde.

Mon. Ile trie your courage. [Draw.[164]

Euph. As thou fear'st my frowne, As thou hast hope to thrive in thy new choice, As thou respect'st the favour of the gods, Welfare in any action thou intends, Doe not reveale unto my fretfull father This humble choice that my high birth hath made.

Mon. Why, then forsweare him.

Euph. Sooner set thy feet Upon my breast, and tread me to the ground.

Ju. As thou art any thing more then a beast, Doe not procure my Ladie such disgrace.

Mon. Peace, bawde, Ile have no conference with you.

Euph. He cannot hurt me, 'tis my Love I feare. Although my father be as sterne as warre, Inexorable like consuming fire, As jealous of his honour as his crowne, To me his anger is like Zephires breath Cast on a banke of sommer violets, But to my Love like whirlewinde to a boate Taken in midst of a tumultuous sea.

Enter Duke of Saxonie and Fredericke.

Alas, he comes! Montano, prethee, peace. Courage, sweete Love.

Con. I see our love must cease.

Euph. Not if my wit can helpe; it shall goe hard But Ile prevent the traitor.

Mon. Heare me, my Lord.

Euph. Heare me, my gracious father.

Mon. Heare me, my liege: ther's treason in your Court, I have found a peasant in the Princesse closet; And this is he that steales away her honour.

Euph. This villaine, gracious father, 'tis that seekes To rob me of mine honor, you your daughter.

Mon. Now, as you are a right heroike Prince, Be deafe unto your daughters faire[165] words.

Euph. Be deafe to him, as you regard your selfe.

Duke. What strange confusion's this that cloyes our hearing?

Fred. Speake, beauteous sister, who hath done thee wrong?

Mon. Her self.

Euph. This traitor.

Fre. Lord Montano?

Euph. Hee.

Fred. Villaine, thou dyest.

Mon. Stay, she meanes Constantine, He that I found infolded in her closet, Reaping the honour which a thousand Lords Have fail'd in seeking in a lawful course.

Con. He does me wrong, my gracious soveraigne.

Ju. He wrongs my Ladie, an't please your grace.

Mon. Ile tell the trueth.

Euph. Or rather let me tell it.

Mon. Lacivious love is ever full of sleights.

Euph. Villaines, that seeke by treason their desires, Want no suggestion to beguile a trueth.

Mon. I say, I found this peasant in her closet Kissing, imbracing, and dishonouring her.

Euph. I say, an't please your gracious Excellence, I found this Gentleman within my closet, There set by subornation of this Lord, And here appointed to dishonor me. Speake, is't not true?

Con. True, if it please your grace.

Duke. What say you, strumpet?

Ju. Since my Ladie saies so, I say and't please your Excellence—

Duke. Speake, woman.

Ju. 'Tis very true.

Mon. O monstrous forgerie!

Fre. O more then falshood to become so smooth In such a dangerous action!

Duke. This is strange; Montano seeke the ruine of my daughter!

Euph. Because I would not yeeld unto his suite, Which he in rapefull manner oft hath sought, Hee set this Gentleman to doe me shame Intending by exclaimes[166] to raise the Court, But that repentance in my waiting Maide And of his sorrowfull selfe reveal'd the plot.

Mon. O ye gods, how am I over-reacht!

Duke. I know the yong man to be well discended, Of civill carriage and approved faith, How ere seduced to this enterprise.

Con. My conscience, would not propagate that plot.

Ju. Nor mine, my Lord, though gold corrupted me.

Mon.—Cleane from the byas! wit, by heaven rare wit! Ile tell another tale, if they have done.

Duke. What canst thou speake, vild[167] traitor? Thou seest thou art prevented in thy plot And therefore desperately coin'st any thing, But I am deafe to all such stratagems.

Mon. Will you not heare me?

Duke. Forgeries and lies. My daughters honour is of that high prize That I preferre it 'fore a traitors braine. Let it suffice, we know she hath deni'd thee And some denied (like devills) turne their love Into excrutiation of themselves And of the parties whom they have belov'd. Revenge begins where flatteries doe end; Being not her husband, thou wilt be no friend. Thus is thy policy by heaven prevented: Therefore henceforth we banish thee our Court; Our Court? our territorie, every place Wherein we beare the state of Royaltie. Urge no replie, the fact is plainely prov'd, And thou art hatefull where thou wert belov'd.

Mon. My gracious Lord—

Duke. We can afford no grace: Stay here, and reade thy ruine in my face.

Mon. I goe contented with this heavy doome; 'Twas mine owne seeking. Faire and wise, adiew; Deceit hath kil'd conceit, you know tis true. [Exit.[168]

Fre. An upright sentence of an act so vilde.

Duk. Remove this waiting virgin from your chamber, But let this gentleman attend on me. The best may be deceiv'd by trecherie.

Euph. Then so, my gracious father, may this maid.

Duke. Then let her keep her place; beware of gold, Honour's too precious to be baselie sold.— Now to our dying friend, his grace of Meath. Daughter, prepare you; you shall ride along, For to that end we came; come, sonne, to horse: Ere we come there, our friend may prove a coarse.

Euph.—Twas well done both, this action rarely fell; Where women trie their wits, bad plots prove well.

[Exeunt omnes.