Fred. Dost thou mean seriously?
Sor. I mean my Sister,
And if I had a dozen more, they were all yours:
Some Aunts I have, they have been handsome Women,
My Mother's dead indeed, and some few Cousins
That are now shooting up, we shall see shortly.
Fred. No, 'tis Evanthe.
Sor. I have sent my man unto her,
Upon some business to come presently
Hither, she shall come; your Grace dare speak unto her?
Large golden promises, and sweet language, Sir,
You know what they work, she is a compleat Courtier,
Besides I'le set in.
Fred. She waits upon my Queen,
What jealousie and anger may arise,
Incensing her?
Sor. You have a good sweet Lady,
A Woman of so even and still a temper,
She knows not anger; say she were a fury,
I had thought you had been absolute, the great King,
The fountain of all honours, plays and pleasures,
Your will and your commands unbounded also;
Go get a pair of Beads and learn to pray, Sir.
Enter Servant.
Ser. My Lord, your servant stayes.
Sor. Bid him come hither, and bring the Lady with him.
Fred. I will woo her,
And either lose my self, or win her favour.