Which still, he thanked him, yielded him his light.
Then took he up his garland, and did show
What every flower, as country people hold,
Did signify, and how all, ordered thus,

Expressed his grief; and, to my thoughts, did read
The prettiest lecture of his country art

That could be wished: so that methought I could
Have studied it. I gladly entertained

Him, who was as glad to follow; and have got
The trustiest, loving'st, and the gentlest boy
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 ARETHUSA.
Phi. And thou shalt find her honourable, boy;

Full of regard unto thy tender youth,
For thine own modesty; and for my sake,
Apter to give than thou wilt be to ask,
Ay, 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 were apt to conster

A simple innocence in me, perhaps

Might have been craft, the cunning of a boy
Harden'd in lies and theft; yet ventured you
To part my miseries and me; for which,
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; But when thy judgment comes to rule those passions, Thou wilt remember best those careful friends That placed thee in the noblest way of life.

She is a princess I prefer thee to.

Bell. In 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,
My father would prefer the boys he kept
To greater men than he, but did it not
Till they were grown too saucy for himself.
Phi. Why, gentle boy, I find no fault at all
In thy behaviour.

Bell. Sir, if I have made

A fault of ignorance, instruct my youth:
I shall be willing, if not apt, to learn
Age and experience will adorn my mind.
With larger knowledge; and if I have done
A wilful fault, think me not past all hope
For once.
What master holds so strict a hand
Over his boy, that he will part with him
Without one warning? Let me be corrected
To break my stubbornness, if it be So,
Rather than turn me off; and I shall mend.
Phi. Thy love doth plead so prettily to stay,

That, trust me, I could weep to part with thee.
Alas, I do not turn thee off! thou know'st
It is my business that doth call thee hence;
And when thou art with her, thou dwell'st with me.
Think So, and 'tis so: and when time is full,
That thou hast well discharged this heavy trust,
Laid on so weak a one, I will again

With joy receive thee; as I live, I will!

Nay, weep not, gentle boy. 'Tis more than time
Thou didst attend the princess.

Bell. I am gone.

But since I am to part with you, my lord,
And none knows whether I shall live to do
More service for you, take this little prayer:
Heaven bless your loves, your fights, all your designs!
May sick men, if they have your wish, be well;
And Heaven hate those you curse, though I be

one!

Be

Ba

B

A

B

BELLARIO describes to the PRINCESS ARETHUSA the manner of his master PHILASTER'S love for her.

Are. Sir, you are sad to change your service; is 't not so?

Bell. Madam, I have not changed; I wait on you,

To do him service.

Are. Thou disclaim'st in me.

Tell me thy name.

Bell. Bellario.

Are. Thou canst sing and play?

Bell. If grief will give me leave, madam, I can.
Are. Alas, what kind of grief can thy years know?
Hadst thou a curst master when thou went'st to
school?

Thou art not capable of other grief;

Thy brows and cheeks are smooth as waters be When no breath troubles them: believe me, boy, Care seeks out wrinkled brows and hollow eyes, And builds himself caves, to abide in them. 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 deceived, 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
To sit cross-armed and sigh away the day,

Mingled with starts, crying your name as loud
And hastily as men i' the streets do fire;
If it be love to weep himself away,

When he but hears of any lady dead

Or killed, because it might have been your chance;
If, when he goes to rest (which will not be),
'Twixt every prayer he says, to name you once,
As others drop a bead, be to be in love,