Bar. Thou hast a parlous judgement; but let that pass,
She is as truly virtuous, fair, and noble,
As her great Mother's good: and that's not ordinary.
Sil. But why (so many Princes, and so great ones
Being Suitors) should the Dutchess deny to match her?
Bar. She is a Jewel man, hangs in her bosom,
Her only Child: with her eies she sees all things,
Discourses with her tongue, and pluck her from her
(So dotingly the old one loves her young one)
You pluck her heart out too: Besides, of late daies,
The Duke of Milan, who could never win her
By Love, nor Treaty, laid a close train for her
In her own private Walks: some forty Horse-men,
So to surprize her; which we found, and dealt with,
And sent 'em running home to the Duke their Master,
Like Dogs with bottles at their tails.
Sil. Since that, I heard Sir,
She has sent her to your Cittadel to secure her,
My cosin Rodope, your wife attending her.
Bar. You hear a truth, and all convenient pleasures
Are there proportion'd for her.
Sil. I would fain, Sir,
Like one that owes a dutious service to her
Sometimes so please you—
Bar. Gentle Cosin pardon me,
I must not, nor you must not dare to offer,
The last Edict lies on his life pursues it;
Your friend, Sir, to command, abroad to love you
To lend ye any thing I have, to wait upon ye,
But in the Cittadel where I stand charg'd,
Not a bit upon a march: no service, Sir,
No, good Sir by no means: I kiss your hands, Sir. [Exit.
Sil. To your keeping only? none else to look upon her?
None but Bartello worthy her attendance?
No faith but his to serve her? Oh Belvidere,
Thou Saint to whom my youth is sacrific'd,
Thou point to which my life turns, and my fortune,
Art thou lock'd from me now? from all my comforts,
Art thou snatch'd violently? thou hear'st me not,
Nor canst thou see (fair soul) thy servants mournings,
Yet let thy gentle heart feel what his absence,
The great divorse of minds so truly loving,
So long, and nurs'd in one affection
Even from our infant eyes, suck'd in and nourish'd:
Oh let it feel but that, and there stand constant
And I am blest. My dear Aunt Rodope,
That is her Governess, did love me dearly,
There's one hope yet to see her: when he is absent
It may be ventur'd, and she may work it closely:
I know the Ladies will goe equal with me,
And so the danger of the Edict avoided;
Let me think more, for I must try all hazards.
Enter Claudio and Soto.
Soto. Will ye go yonder, Sir?