Too grossly, for the fashion of his mind
Deserves a dear respect.

Pal. Your commendations,

Sweet cousin, speak him nobly.

Par. All the powers

That sentinel just thrones, double their guards
About your sacred excellence!

Pal. What fortune

Led him to Cyprus?

Men. My persuasions won him.

Amet. And if your highness please to hear the

entrance

Into their first acquaintance, you will say—

Tha. It was the newest, sweetest, prettiest accident,

That e'er delighted your attention:

I can discourse it, sir.

Pal. Some other time,

How is he call'd?

Tha. Parthenophill.

Pal. Parthenophill?

We shall sort time to take more notice of him.

[Exit. Men. His wonted melancholy still pursues him.

Amet. I told you so.

Tha. You must not wonder at it.

Par. I do not, lady.

Amet. Shall we to the castle?

Men. We will attend you both.

Rhe. All three-I'll go too. Hark in thine ear, gallant; I'll keep the old man in chat, while thou gabblest to the girl: my thumb's upon my lips; not a word.

Amet. I need not fear thee, Rhetias.-Sister, soon Expect us; this day we will range the city.

Tha. Well, soon I shall expect you.-Kala!!

[Aside.

1 Kala!] This is a hint to her attendant to take the present oppor tunity of conveying her message "honourably" to Parthenophill.GIFFORD.

Kal. Trust me.

Rhe. Troop on!-Love, love, what a wonder thou art! [Exeunt all but PARTHENOPHILL and KALA.

Kal. May I not be offensive, sir?

Par. Your pleasure?

Yet, pray, be brief.

Kal. Then, briefly; good, resolve me;

Have you a mistress or a wife?

Par. I have neither.

Kal. Nor did you ever love in earnest any Fair lady, whom you wish'd to make your own? Par. Not any, truly.

Kal. What your friends or means are I will not be inquisitive to know,

Nor do I care to hope for. But admit

A dowry were thrown down before your choice,
Of beauty, noble birth, sincere affection,

How gladly would you entertain it? Young man,
I do not tempt you idly.

Par. I shall thank you,

When my unsettled thoughts can make me sensible

Of what 't is to be happy; for the present
I am your debtor; and, fair gentlewoman,
Pray give me leave as yet to study ignorance,
For my weak brains conceive not what concerns me.
Another time-
[Going.

Enter THAMASTA.

Tha. Do I break off your parley,

That you are parting? Sure my woman loves you ; Can she speak well, Parthenophill?

Par. Yes, madam,

Discreetly chaste she can; she hath much won
On my belief, and in few words, but pithy,

Much mov'd my thankfulness. You are her lady,
Your goodness aims, I know, at her preferment;
Therefore, I may be bold to make confession
Of truth: if ever I desire to thrive

VOL. I.-7

In woman's favour, Kala is the first
Whom my ambition shall bend to.

Tha. Indeed!

But say a nobler love should interpose.

Par. Where real worth and constancy first settle
A hearty truth, there greatness cannot shake it;
Nor shall it mine: yet I am but an infant

In that construction, which must give clear light
To Kala's merit; riper hours hereafter

Must learn me how to grow rich in deserts.
Madam, my duty waits on you.

Tha. Come hither!

"If ever henceforth I desire to thrive

In woman's favour, Kala is the first

[Exit.

Whom my ambition shall bend to."-"T was so!
Kal. These very words he spake.

Tha. These very words

Curse thee, unfaithful creature, to thy grave.

Thou woo'dst him for thyself?

Kal. You said I should.

Tha. My name was never mentioned?

Kal. Madam, no:

We were not come to that.

Tha. Not come to that!

Art thou a rival fit to cross my fate?

Now poverty and a dishonest fame,

The waiting-woman's wages, be thy payment.
False, faithless, wanton beast! I'll spoil your car-
riage;1

There's not a page, a groom, nay, not a citizen
That shall be cast [away] upon thee, Kala;
I'll keep thee in my service all thy lifetime,
Without hope of a husband or a suitor.

Kal. I have not verily deserved this cruelty.
Tha. Parthenophill shall know, if he respect not

My birth, the danger of a fond2 neglect.

[Exit.

1 I'll spoil your carriage!] From the sequel of the speech it appears not improbable that the poet's word was marriage.-GIFFORD.

2 Of a fond neglect,] i. e. the danger of slighting the love of a lady of my rank.-GIFFORD.

Kal. Are you so quick? Well, I may chance to

cross

Your peevishness. Now, though I never meant
The young man for myself, yet, if he love me,
I'll have him, or I'll run away with him;
And let her do her worst then!

SCENE II.

An Apartment at the Castle.

Enter CLEOPHILA and TROLLIO.

[Exit.

Cleo. Tread softly, Trollio, my father sleeps still. Trol. Ay, forsooth; but he sleeps like a hare, with his eyes open, and that 's no good sign.

Cleo. Sure thou art weary of this sullen living; But I am not; for I take more content

In my obedience here, than all delights
The time presents elsewhere.

Mel. Oh!

Cleo. Dost hear that groan?

Trol. Hear it? I shudder; it was a strong blast, young mistress, able to root up heart, liver, lungs, and all.

Cleo. My much-wronged father! let me view his face.

[Draws the arras, MELEANDER discovered in a chair, sleeping.

Trol. Lady mistress, shall I fetch a barber to steal away his rough beard while he sleeps? In his naps he never looks in a glass-and 't is high time, o' my conscience, for him to be trimmed; he has not been under the shaver's hand almost these four years.

Cleo. Peace, fool!

Trol. He begins to stir; he stirs. Bless us, how his eyes roll! A good year keep your lordship in your right wits, I beseech ye!

[Aside.

Mel. Cleophila !

Cleo. Sir, I am here; how do you, sir?

Mel. The raven croak'd, and hollow shrieks of owls

Sung dirges at her funeral; I laugh'd

The while, for 't was no boot to weep. The girl
Was fresh and full of youth; but, oh! the cunning
Of tyrants, that look big! their very frowns
Doom poor souls guilty ere their cause be heard.—
Good! what art thou? and thou?

Cleo. I am Cleophila, Your woful daughter. Trol. I am Trollio,

Your honest implement.

Mel. I know you both. 'Las, why d' ye use me thus?

Thy sister, my Eroclea, was so gentle,

That turtles in their down do feed more gall,
Than her spleen mix'd with :-yet, when winds and

storm

Drive dirt and dust on banks of spotless snow,
The purest whiteness is no such defence
Against the sullying foulness of that fury.
So raved Agenor, that great man, mischief
Against the girl-'t was a politic trick!
We were too old in honour.-I am lean,
And fall'n away extremely; most assuredly
I have not dined these three days.
Cleo. Will you now, sir?

Trol. I beseech you heartily, sir.
Mel. Am I stark mad?

Trol. No, no, you are but a little staring-there's difference between staring and stark mad. You are but whimsied yet; crotcheted, conundrumed, or so. Aside.

Mel. Here's all my care; and I do often sigh
For thee, Cleophila; we are secluded
From all good people. But take heed; Amethus
Was son to Doryla, Agenor's sister;