Bell. In love! with whom?

Gio. With one I dare not name, she is so much
Above my birth and fortunes.

Bell. I commend

Your flight; but does she know it?
Gio. I durst never

Appear with so much boldness, to discover
My heart's so great ambition; 'tis here still,
A strange and busy guest.

Bell. And you think absence
May cure this wound?

Gio. Or death.

Bell. I may presume

You think she 's fair?

Gio. I dare as soon question your beauty, madam,
The only ornament and star of Venice;
Pardon the bold comparison: yet there is
Something in you resembles my great mistress.-
She blushes (aside)

Such very beams disperseth her bright eye,
Powerful to restore decrepit nature;

But when she frowns, and changes from her sweet
Aspect, (as in my fears I see you now,
Offended at my boldness,) she does blast
Poor Giovanni thus, and thus I wither
At heart, and wish myself a thing lost in
My own forgotten dust!

THE POLITICIAN, A TRAGEDY:
BY THE SAME AUTHOR.

MARPISA widow of COUNT ALTOMARUS is advanced to be Queen to the KING OF NORWAY, by the practices of her paramour GOTHARUS. She has by her first husband a young son HARALDUS; to secure whose succession to the crown by the aid of GOTHARUS (in prejudice of the king's son, the lawful heir), she tells GOTHARUS that the child is his. He believes her, and tells HARALDUS; who taking to heart his mother's dishonour, and his own stain of bastardy, falls into a mortal sickness.

QUEEN. HARALDUS.

Queen. How is it with my child ?

Har. I know you love me;

Yet I must tell you truth, I cannot live ;
And let this comfort you, death will not come
Unwelcome to your son.
I do not die

Against my will; and having my desires,
You have less cause to mourn.

Queen. What is 't has made

The thought of life unpleasant, which does court
Thy dwelling here, with all delights that nature
And art can study for thee? Rich in all things
Thy wish can be ambitious of; yet all
These treasures nothing to thy mother's love,
Which, to enjoy thee, would defer awhile
Her thought of going to heaven.

Har. Oh, take heed, mother:

Heaven has a spacious ear, and power to punish
Your too much love with my eternal absence.
I beg your prayers and blessing.

Queen. Thou art dejected;

Have but a will and live.

Har. 'Tis in vain, mother.

Queen. Sink with a fever into earth? look up;
Thou shalt not die.

Har. I have a wound within

You do not see, more killing than all fevers.

Queen. A wound! where? who has murder'd thee ? Har. Gotharus

Queen. Ha! Furies persecute him!

Har. Oh, pray for him!

It is my duty, though he gave me death,—
He is my father.

Queen. How? thy father!

Har. He told me so, and with that breath destroy'd

me;

I felt it strike upon my spirits. Mother,
Would I had ne'er been born!

Queen. Believe him not.

Har. Oh, do not add another sin to what
Is done already; death is charitable,

To quit me from the scorn of all the world.
Queen. By all my hopes, Gotharus has abus'd thee;
Thou art the lawful burthen of my womb;
Thy father Altomarus.

Har. Ha!

Queen. Before whose spirit, long since taken up
To meet with saints and troops angelical,

I dare again repeat, thou art his son.

Har. Ten thousand blessings now reward my mother!

Speak it again, and I may live; a stream
Of pious joy runs through me; to my soul

You have struck a harmony next that in heaven :
Can you, without a blush, call me your child,
And son of Altomarus? all that's holy
Dwell in your blood for ever! Speak it once,
But once again.

Queen. Were it my latest breath,

Thou art his, and mine.

Har. Enough; my tears do flow,

To give you thanks for 't. I would you could

resolve me

But one truth more; why did my lord Gotharus

Har. What are those words? I am undone again. Queen. Ha!

Har. 'Tis too late

To call them back-he thinks I am his son. Queen. I have confess'd too much, and tremble with The imagination. Forgive me, child,

And Heaven, if there be mercy to a crime
So black, as I must now, to quit thy fears,
Say I have been guilty of. We have been sinful;
And I was not unwilling to oblige

His active brain for thy advancement, by
Abusing his belief thou wert his own;

But thou hast no such stain; thy birth is innocent,
Or may I perish ever! 'Tis a strange
Confession to a child, but it may drop

A balsam to thy wound. Live, my Haraldus;
If not for this, to see my penitence,

And with what tears I'll wash away my sin.
Har. I am no bastard then?

Queen. Thou art not.

Har. But

I am not found, while you are lost;

No time can restore you. My spirits faint. Queen. Will nothing comfort thee?

Har. Give me your blessing, and, within my heart I'll pray you may have many. My soul flies

'Bove this vain world. Good mother, close mine

eyes.

Queen. Never died so much sweetness in his years.1

1 Mamillus in the Winter's Tale in this manner droops and dies from a conceit of his mother's dishonour.

THE ASPARAGUS GARDEN, A COMEDY: BY RICHARD Brome.

Private conference.

Father-in-law. You will not assault me in mine own house? nor urge me beyond my patience with your borrowing attempts !

Spendthrift Knight. I have not us'd the word of loan or borrowing;

Only some private conference I requested.

Fath. Private conference! a 'new coin'd word for borrowing of money; I tell you, your very face, your countenance (though it be gloss'd with knighthood,) looks so borrowingly, that the best words you give me are as dreadful as Stand and Deliver. Your riotousness abroad, and her long night-watchings at home, shortened my daughter's days, and cast her into her grave-and 'twas not long before all her estate was buried too.

Spend. I wish my life might have excus'd
Hers, far more precious; never had a man
A juster cause to mourn.

Fath. Nor mourned more justly; it is your only wearing; you have just none other: nor have had means to purchase better any time these seven years, as I take it. By which means you have got the name of the Mourning Knight.

TIMOTHY HOYDEN, the Yeoman's son, desires to be made a gentleman. He consults with his friends.

Moneylack. Well, sir, we will take the speediest course

with you. Hoyd. But must I bleed?