Are. Sir?
King. Put him away, h'as done you that good service, Shames me to speak of.
Are. Good Sir let me understand you.
King. If you fear me, shew it in duty; put away that boy.
Are. Let me have reason for it Sir, and then
Your will is my command.
King. Do not you blush to ask it? Cast him off,
Or I shall do the same to you. Y'are one
Shame with me, and so near unto my self,
That by my life, I dare not tell my self,
What you, my self have done.
Are. What have I done my Lord?
King. 'Tis a new language, that all love to learn,
The common people speak it well already,
They need no Grammer; understand me well,
There be foul whispers stirring; cast him off!
And suddenly do it: Farewel.
[Exit King.
Are. Where may a Maiden live securely free,
Keeping her Honour safe? Not with the living,
They feed upon opinions, errours, dreams,
And make 'em truths: they draw a nourishment
Out of defamings, grow upon disgraces,
And when they see a vertue fortified
Strongly above the battery of their tongues;
Oh, how they cast to sink it; and defeated
(Soul sick with Poyson) strike the Monuments
Where noble names lie sleeping: till they sweat,
And the cold Marble melt.