Amet. Not like a lady of the trim, new crept
Out of the shell of sluttish sweat and labour
Into the glittering pomp of ease and wantonness,
Embroideries, and all these antic fashions

That shape a woman monstrous; to transform
Your education and a noble birth

Into contempt and laughter. Sister, sister,
She who derives her blood from princes ought
To glorify her greatness by humility.

Tha. Then you conclude me proud?
Amet.

Young Menaphon,

My worthy friend, has loved you long and truly:
To witness his obedience to your scorn,

Twelve months, wronged gentleman, he undertook
A voluntary exile. Wherefore, sister,

In this time of his absence have you not
Disposed of your affections on some monarch?
Or sent ambassadors to some neighbouring king
With fawning protestations of your graces,
Your rare perfections, admirable beauty?
This had been a new piece of modesty
Would have deserved a chronicle !

You're bitter;

Tha.
And, brother, by your leave, not kindly 1 wise.
My freedom is my birth's; I am not bound
To fancy your approvements, but my own.
Indeed, you are an humble youth! I hear of
Your visits and your loving commendation
To your heart's saint, Cleophila, a virgin
Of a rare excellence. What though she want
A portion to maintain a portly greatness?
Yet 'tis your gracious sweetness to descend
So low; the meekness of your pity leads ye!
She is your dear friend's sister! a good soul!
An innocent !--

Tha.

I have given

Your Menaphon a welcome home, as fits me;
For his sake entertained Parthenophil,
The handsome stranger, more familiarly

Than, I may fear, becomes me; yet, for his part,

I not repent my courtesies: but you—

Amet. No more, no more! be affable to both; Time may reclaim your cruelty.

The youth; and, trust me, brother, love his sadness:
He talks the prettiest stories: he delivers

His tales so gracefully, that I could sit
And listen, nay, forget my meals and sleep,
To hear his neat discourses. Menaphon
Was well advised in choosing such a friend
For pleading his true love.

Enter MENAPHON and PARTHENOPHIL.

Amet. Have ye surveyed the garden?

Men. It were impossible, since your fair presence Makes every place, where it vouchsafes to shine,

More lovely than all other helps of art

Can equal.

Tha.

What you mean by "helps of art,"

You know yourself best: be they as they are;

You need none, I am sure, to set me forth.

Men. 'Twould argue want of manners, more than skill, Not to praise praise itself.

Tha.

For your reward,

Excellent sister!

Henceforth I'll call you servant.1

Amet.

Men. 'Tis my first step to honour. May I fall Lower than shame, when I neglect all service

That may confirm this favour!

Tha.

Are you well, sir?

Par. Great princess, I am well. To see a league
Between an humble love, such as my friend's is,
And a commanding virtue, such as yours is,

Are sure restoratives.

Tha.

You speak ingeniously.—2

Brother, be pleased to show the gallery

To this young stranger. Use the time a while,
And we will all together to the court:

I will present ye, sir, unto the prince.

Par. You're all composed of fairness and true bounty.

Tha. I am grown base.-Parthenophil--
Kal.

You are in love.

He's handsome,

1i.e. Acknowledge you as a lover.

2 i.e. Wittily.

Richly endowed; he hath a lovely face,

A winning tongue.

Tha.

If ever I must fall,

In him my greatness sinks: Love is a tyrant,
Resisted. Whisper in his ear, how gladly

I would steal time to talk with him one hour:

But do it honourably; prithee, Kala,

Do not betray me.

Kal.

Madam, I will make it

Mine own case; he shall think I am in love with him.
Tha. I hope thou art not, Kala.
Kal.

'Tis for your sake:

I'll tell him so; but, 'faith, I am not, lady.

Tha. Pray, use me kindly; let me not too soon

Be lost in my new follies. 'Tis a fate

That overrules our wisdoms; whilst we strive
To live most free, we're caught in our own toils.
Diamonds cut diamonds; they who will prove

To thrive in cunning must cure love with love. [Exeunt.

SCENE I.-An Apartment in the Palace.

Enter SOPHRONOS and ARETUS.

OPH. Our commonwealth is sick: 'tis more than time

That we should wake the head thereof, who sleeps

In the dull lethargy of lost security.

The commons murmur, and the nobles The court is now turned antic, and grows wild, [grieve; Whiles all the neighbouring nations stand at gaze, And watch fit opportunity to wreak

Their just-conceivèd fury on such injuries

As the late prince, our living master's father,
Committed against laws of truth or honour.
Intelligence comes flying in on all sides;
Whilst the unsteady multitude presume
How that you, Aretus, and I engross,
Out of particular ambition,

The affairs of government; which I, for my part,
Groan under and am weary of.

Are.

Sophronos,

I am as zealous too of shaking off

My gay state-fetters, that I have bethought
Of speedy remedy; and to that end,

As I have told ye, have concluded with
Corax, the prince's chief physician.

Soph. You should have done this sooner, Aretus;