Duke. Though you have a courser Title yet upon you,
Than those that left your places, without blame,
'Tis in your power to make your selves the same:
I cannot make you Gentlemen, that's a work
Rais'd from your own deservings, merit, manners,
And in-born virtue does it. Let your own goodness
Make you so great, my power shall make you greater;
And more t'encourage you, this I add agen,
There's many Grooms, now exact Gentlemen.
Enter Shamont.
Sham. Methinks 'tis strange to me to enter here:
Is there in nature such an awful power,
To force me to this place? and make me do this?
Is mans affection stronger than his Will?
His resolution? was I not resolv'd
Never to see this place more? Do I bear
Within my breast one bloud that confounds th' other?
The bloud of Love, and Will, and the last weakest?
Had I ten Millions, I would give it all now,
I were but past it, or 'twould never come;
For I shall never do't, or not do't well,
But spoil it utterly betwixt two passions,
Yonder's the Duke himself, I will not do't now,
Had twenty lives their several sufferings in him. [Exit.
Duke. Who's that went out now?
Pol. I saw none my Lord.
Duke. Nor you?
Moul. I saw the glimpse of one my Lord.
Duke. What e'er it was, methought it pleas'd me strangely
And suddenly my joy was ready for't.
Did you not mark it better?
Pol. & Moul. Troth my Lord,
We gave no great heed to't.
Enter Shamont.