That ever master kept him will I send To wait on you, and bear our hidden love. Philaster prefers Bellario to the Service of the Princess Phi. And thou shalt find her honourable, boy, For thine own modesty; and for my sake, Apter to give, than thou wilt be to ask, aye, or deserve. Bell. Sir, you did take me up when I was nothing, And only yet am something by being yours; You trusted me unknown; and that which you are apt Perhaps might have been craft, the cunning of a boy I never can expect to serve a lady That bears more honour in her breast than you. Phi. But, boy, it will prefer thee; thou art young, And bear'st a childish overflowing love To them that clap thy cheeks and speak thee fair yet. She is a princess I prefer thee to. Bell. În that small time that I have seen the world, I never knew a man hasty to part With a servant he thought trusty; I remember, To greater men than he, but did it not Bell. Sir, if I have made A fault of ignorance, instruct my youth; For For once; what master holds so strict a hand Phi. Thy love doth plead so prettily to stay, With joy receive thee; as I live, I will; Bell. I am gone; But since I am to part with you, my lord, And none knows whether I shall live to do Are. Sir, you are sad to change your service, is't not so? To do him service. Are. Thou disclaim'st in me; Tell me thy name. Bell. Bellario. Are. Thou can'st sing and play? Bell. If grief will give me leave, madam, I can. Are. Alas! what kind of grief can thy years know? Had'st thou a curst master when thou went'st to school? Thou art not capable of any other grief; Care Care seeks out wrinkled brows, and hollow eyes, Come, sir, tell me truly, does your lord love me? Bell. Love, madam? I know not what it is. Are. Canst thou know grief, and never yet knew'st love? Thou art deceiv'd, boy. Does he speak of me As if he wish'd me well? Bell. If it be love, To forget all respect of his own friends, In thinking of your face; if it be love, Or kill'd, because it might have been your chance; Philaster is jealous of Bellario with the Princess. The princess doth commend her love, her life, Phi. O Bellario, Now I perceive she loves me, she does shew it O let all women To To all the world besides, but unto me A maiden snow that melted with my looks. Tell me, my boy, how doth the princess use thee? Bell. Scarce like her servant, but as if I were As mothers fond do use their only sons; Phi. Why this is wond'rous well : But what kind language does she feed thee with? Bell. Why, she does tell me, she will trust my youth With all her loving secrets, and does call me Her pretty servant, bids me weep no more Phi. This is much better still. Bell. Are you ill, my lord? Phi. Ill? No, Bellario. Bell. Methinks your words Fall not from off your tongue so evenly, Nor is there in your looks that quietness, That I was wont to see. Phi. Thou art deceiv'd, boy.—And she strokes thy head? Bell. Yes. Phi. And she does clap thy cheeks? Bell. She does, my lord. Phi. And she does kiss thee, boy, ha? Bell. How, my lord? Phi. She kisses thee? Phi. Come, come, I know she does. Aye, Aye, now I see why my disturbed thoughts Phi. Thou think'st I will be angry with thee. Come. As I would wish her? Speak some comfort to me. Bell. My lord, you did mistake the boy you sent: Had she a sin that way, hid from the world, I would not aid Her base desires; but what I came to know To make my life last ages. Phi. O my heart! This is a salve worse than the main disease. Bell. Why, so you do. She is (for aught I know) by all the gods, As chaste as ice; but were she foul as hell, And I did know it, thus; the breath of kings, The points of swords, tortures, nor bulls of brass, Phi. Then it is no time To dally with thee; I will take thy life, For I do hate thee; I could curse thee now. Bell, If you do hate, you could not curse me worse; The gods have not a punishment in store Greater for me than is your hate. Phi. Fie, fe, So |