[SCENE 1.]

Enter Duke, Fredericke, Hatto, and Alfred.

Hat. Good brother, heare some Musicke, twill delight you.

Al. Ile call the Actors, will you see a play?

Fre. Or, gracious father, see me runne the race On a light footed horse, swifter then winde.

Duke. I pray forbeare.

Al. This moode will make you mad, For melancholy ushers franticke thoughts.

Hat. It makes hot wreaking blood turne cold and drie, And drithe and coldnesse are the signes of death.

Duke. You doe torment me.

Fred. Is it anything That I have done, offends your grace?

Hat. Or comes this hidden anger from my fault?

Alf. Heres none but gladly would resigne his life To doe you pleasure, so please you to command.

Duke. Ifaith you are too [sic] blame to vexe me thus.

Hat. Then grounds this sorrow on your brothers death?

Fred. Or rather on the glove I lately found.

Duke. A plague upon the glove, whats that to me? Your prating makes me almost lunatike. As you respect my welfare, leave me leave me. The sooner you depart, the sooner I Shall finde some meanes to cure my maladie.

Fred. Our best course is to be obedient.

[Exeunt all but the Duke.

Duke. Farewell. Was ever slave besotted like to me! That Kings have lov'd those that they never saw Is nothing strange, since they have heard their praise; Birds that by painted grapes have bin deceiv'd Had yet some shadow to excuse their error; Pigmalion that did love an Ivory Nimph Had an Idea to delight his sence; The youth that doted on Minerva's[177] picture Had some contentment for his eye; [soft Musique. But love, or rather an infernall hagge, Envying Saxons greatnes and his joyes, Hath given me nothing but a trifling glove, As if by the proportion of the case Art had the power to know the jewels nature. Or Nimph, or goddesse, woman, or faire devill, If anything thou art, within my braine Draw thine owne picture, let me see thy face: To doate thus grossely, is a grosse disgrace. [Musique within. I heare some Musique: O ye Deities, Send you this heavenly consort[178] from the spheares To recreate a love-perplexed heart? The more it sounds, the more it refresheth. I see no instruments, nor hands that play; And my deare brothers, durst not be so bold. 'Tis some celestiall rapture of the minde, No earthlie harmonic is of this kinde. Now it doth cease: speake, who comes there?

Enter Fredericke, Alfred, and Hatto.

Fred. Father.

Duke. From whence proceeds the Musicke that I heard?

Fred. The beauteous and the famous Curtezan, Allyed unto the banished Montano, Admir'd Valentia, with a troope of youths This day doth keepe her yeerely festivall To all her suters, and this way she past Unto her Arbor, when the Musique plaide.

Duke. Admir'd Valentia! Curtezans are strange With us in Germanie; except her selfe, Being a Venetian borne and priviledg'd, The state allowes none here.

Fred. Twere good for Meath She were unpriviledgd and sent to Venice.

Al. Of all the faces that mine eye beheld Hers is the brightest.

Duke. Is she then so faire?

Hat. O beyond all comparison of beautie.

Fred. Upon her hand, Father, I saw the fellow to your glove.

Duke. Then let it be restor'd. What, should a Prince retaine a strumpets glove?— O ye eternall powers, am I insnar'd With the affection of a common trull!— Wheres your commissions, that you would have sign'd? 'Tis time I had a president in Saxonie. Receive our signet, and impresse them straight; Ile remaine here, in Meath, some little time. Brother, have care my Dukedome be well rul'd; Here I put over my affaires to you. My sonne I leave unto the joyes of youth; Tis pittie that his minde should be opprest So soone with care of governments. Goe to your pleasures, seeke your sister foorth, Send Constantine to us; so leave me all, I am best accompanied with none at all. [Exeunt. Manet Duke. Either the Plannets, that did meete together In the grand consultation of my birth, Were opposite to every good infusion, Or onely Venus stood as retrograde; For, but in love of this none-loving trull, I have beene fortunate even since my birth. I feele within my breast a searching fire Which doth ascend the engine of my braine, And when I seeke by reason to suppresse The heate it gives, the greaters the excesse. I loath to looke upon a common lip Were it as corral as Aurora's cheeke Died with the faire virmillion [of the] sunne. O but I love her, and they say she is faire.— Now Constantine.

Enter Constantine.

Con. Your grace did send for me.

Duke. Lend me your habit in exchange of mine, For I must walk the Citie for a purpose.

Con. With all my heart, my habit and my selfe.

Duke. In any case, watch at the privie chamber. If any ask for me say I am not well, And though it be my sonne, let him not enter.

Con. I will.

Duke. Be carefull, gentle Constantine. Now, faire Valentia, Saxon to thy bower Comes like a Jove to raine a golden shower. [Exit.

Con. Prosper, kind Lord, what ere the action be; Counsailes of Princes should be ever free.

[Exit.