Alice. How dearly welcome you are!
Val. I know it,
And my best Sister, you are as dear to my sight,
And pray let this confirm it: how you have govern'd
My poor state in my absence, how my servants,
I dare, and must believe, else I should wrong ye,
The best and worthiest.
Alice. As my womans wit, Sir,
Which is but weak and crazie.
Val. But good Alice,
Tell me how fares the gentle Cellide,
The life of my affection, since my travel,
My long and lazie Travel? is her love still
Upon the growing hand? does it not stop
And wither at my years? has she not view'd
And entertain'd some younger smooth behaviour,
Some Youth but in his blossom, as her self is?
There lies my fears.
Alice. They need not, for believe me
So well you have manag'd her, and won her mind,
Even from her hours of childhood, to this ripeness,
And in your absence, that by me enforc'd still,
So well distill'd your gentleness into her,
Observ'd her, fed her fancy, liv'd still in her,
And though Love be a Boy, and ever youthful,
And young and beauteous objects ever aim'd at,
Yet here ye have gone beyond love, better'd nature,
Made him appear in years, in grey years fiery,
His Bow at full bent ever; fear not Brother,
For though your body has been far off from her,
Yet every hour your heart, which is your goodness,
I have forc'd into her, won a place prepar'd too,
And willingly to give it ever harbour;
Believe she is so much yours, and won by miracle,
(Which is by age) so deep a stamp set on her
By your observances, she cannot alter.
Were the Child living now ye lost at Sea
Among the Genoua Gallies, what a happiness!
What a main Blessing!
Val. O no more, good Sister,
Touch no more that string, 'tis too harsh and jarring.
With that Child all my hopes went, and you know
The root of all those hopes, the Mother too
Within few days.
Alice. 'Tis too true, and too fatal,
But peace be with their souls.
Val. For her loss
I hope the beauteous Cellide.
Alice. You may, Sir,
For all she is, is yours.
Val. For the poor Boys loss,
I have brought a noble friend, I found in Travel,
A worthier mind, and a more temperate spirit,
If I have so much judgment to discern 'em,
Man yet was never master of.