[SCENE 2.]

Enter Valentia and Montano.

Va. Torches and Musique there! the room's too darke.

Mon. Prethee, Neece, Abandon this lascivious unchaste life; It is the onely blemish of our house; Scandall unto our name; a Curtezan! O what's more odious in the eares of men?

Val. Then why doe men resort to Curtezans, And the best sort? I scorne inferiour groomes, Nor will I deign[179] to draw aside my maske To any meaner then a Noble man. Come,[180] can you dance? a caper and a kisse: For every turne Ile fold thee in my armes, And if thou fal'st, although[181] a-kin we be That thou maist fall[182] soft, Ile fall under thee. Oh for the lightnesse of all light heel'd girles, And I would touch the Ceeling with my lips! Why art thou sad, Montano?

Mon. On just cause, You know I am banish't from my natiue countrey.

Val. This citie is Meath, thou art of Saxonie.

Mon. But this belongs unto the Saxons Duke, By the decease of the departed Bishop.

Val. Feare not, thou art as safe within my house As if perculliz'd in a wall of brasse. Wheres Vandermas?

Enter Vandermas.

Van. Madam, did you call?

Mon. What noble man is that, a sutor to you?

Val. An excellent Pander, a rare doore-keeper.[183]

Mon. I had thought he had bin a gentleman at least.

Val. Because of his attire?

Mon. True.

Val. O the attire In these corrupted daies is no true signe To shew the gentleman; peasants now weare robes, In the habilments of noblemen. The world's grown naught, such judgement then is base, For Hares and Asses weare the lion's case.[184]

Mon. 'Tis very costly and exceeding rich.

Val. Ritches to me are like trash to the poore, I have them in abundance; gold's my slave, I keep him prisoner in a three-fold chest And yet his kindred daily visit me.

Mon. Lord, how diligent Is this rich clothed fellow.

Val. Were he proud And should but dare to stand still when I call, I'de run him th[o]rough with a killing frowne.

Mon. Why then belike his service is for love.

Val. Why so are all the servants that attend mee. They keepe themselves in satin, velvets, gold, At their owne charges, and are diligent Daies, moneths, and yeeres, to gaine an amorous smile. Looke on my face with an indifferent eye, And thou shalt finde more musicke in my lookes Then in Amphions Lute or Orpheus Harpe; Mine eye consists of numbers like the soule, And if there be a soule tis in mine ey; For, of the harmony these bright starres make, I comprehend the formes of all the world; The story of the Syrens in my voyce I onely verified, for Millions stand Inchanted when I speake, and catch my words As they were orient pearle to adorn their eares; Circe is but a fable, I transforme The vertuous, valiant, and the most precise, Into what forme of minde my fancie please. Thou might'st bee proud, great Lord, of my abundance, For in this beautie I shall more renowne Our noble progenie then all the pennes Of the best Poets that ere writ of men. Unto your health a health! let Musique sound, [Musick. That what I taste in Musique may be drown'd. So fill more wine, we use to drinke up all; Wine makes good blood and cheeres the heart withal.

Van. Madam, at such time as I heard you call, A gentleman, it seemes of good discent, Humblie did crave accesse unto your honor.

Valen. What did he give?

Van. A brace of bags of gold.

Valen. He shall have libertie to enter straight. But first inrich the chamber with perfumes; Burne choice Arabian Drugs more deare then Waters distil'd out of the spirit of Flowers; And spread our costly Arras to the eye. Myself sufficiently doe shine in jems; Where such faire coated Heraulds doe proceed, It seemes he is honorable and of noble fame.

Mon. Shall I behold this sutor?

Valen. At the full, At pleasure passe through every spacious Roome. Be he a Prince, Ile know his high discent Or proudly scorne to give him his content. What drum is that?

Van. A Maske, sent by a friend.

Valen. Belike our self must know the mysterie; Tell them we are prepar'd to see the Maske, And bid the other noblemen come neere. Thus am I hourely visited by friends; Beautie's a counsellor that wants no fee. They talke of circles and of powerfull spells, Heeres heavenly art that all blacke art excells.

Mon. Ile walke into the farther gallery.

Enter Duke.

Valen. Sir, you are welcome what so ere you be; I guesse your birth great by your bounteous fee.

Duke. Your humble servant, bound by a sweet kisse.

Valen. I give you freedome, gentle Sir, by this. [He whispers her. I know your mind; first censure of the sport, Then you and I will enter Venus Court.

Duke. More then immortall, O more then divine, That such perfection, should turne Concubine.

Mon. That voice is like unto the Saxon Dukes. I feare he hath heard I liv'd here in this place, And he is come to doe me more disgrace. Montano, hide thyself till he be gone; His daughter thirsts for my destruction. [Exit Mont.

Val. Come sit by me, the Maskers are at hand.

Enter Maske.

Where are my Maides, to helpe to make the dance?

_Enter 2 Maids.

They dance, Valentia with them; they whisper to have her play at dice and stake on the drum_.

Valen. What, shall we have a Mumming? heres my Jewell.

[Play on the drum head.

Duke. Thou art a jewell most incomparable.— Malicious heaven, why from so sweete a face Have you exempt the mind adorning grace?

[They stake and play.

She wins, the drum strikes up.

Val. More gold, for this is mine, I thanke yee, dice.

Duke. And so are all that doe behold thy beautie.— Were she as chaste, as she is outward bright, Earth would be heaven, and heaven eternal night. The more I drinke of her delicious eye, The more I plunge into captivitie.

She wins, strike up.

Valen. Have I wonne all? then take that back agen. What, scorne my gift? I see you are a gentleman. No, is't not possible that I may know Unto whose kindnesse this great debt I owe? Well, Ile not be importunate, farewell; Some of your gold let the torch-bearers tell.

Duke. Beautious Madona, do you know these galants?

Valen. I guesse them of the Duke of Saxons Court.

Duke.—My subjects, and so many my corrivalls O every slave is grac't before his Prince.

Valen. Are you not well sir, that your colour failes?

Duke. If I be sicke, 'tis onely in the minde: To see so faire, so common to all kinde; I am growne jealous now of all the world.— Lady, how ere you prize me, without pleasure More then a kisse, I tender you this treasure; O what's a mint spent in such desire But like a sparke that makes a greater fire?— She must be made my Dutches, there it goes; And marrying her, I marry thousand woes.— Adiew, kind Mistresse;—the next newes you heare Is to sit crown'd in an Imperiall chair.[185]

Valen. Either the man dislikes me, or his braine Is not his owne, to give such gifts in vaine, But 'tis the custome in this age to cast Gold upon gold, to encourage men to waste. Lightly it comes, and it shall lightly flie; Whilst colours hold, such presents cannot die.

[Exeunt omnes.[186]