[Sees Isabella.
Bellona,
Thou wert my mistress till I saw that shape;
But now my sword I’ll consecrate to her, 50
Leave Mars and become Cupid’s martialist.
Beauty can turn the rugged face of War,
And make him smile upon delightful Peace,
Courting her smoothly like a femalist.
I grow a slave unto my potent[280] love,
Whose power change[281] hearts, make our fate remove.
Isa. Revenge, not pleasure, now o’er-rules my blood;
Rage shall drown faint love in a crimson flood;
And were he caught, I’d make him murder’s hand!
Sago. Methinks ’twere joy to die at her command. 60
I’ll speak to hear her speech, whose powerful breath
Is able to infuse life into death.
Isa. He comes to speak: he’s mine; by love he is mine!
Sago. Lady, think bold intrusion courtesy;
’Tis but imagination alters them;
Then ’tis your thoughts, not I, that do offend.
Isa. Sir, your intrusion yet ’s but courtesy,
Unless your future humour alter it.
Sago. Why then, divinest woman, know my soul
Is dedicated to thy shrine of beauty, 70
To pray for mercy, and repent the wrongs
Done against love and female purity.
Thou abstract, drawn from nature’s empty storehouse,
I am thy slave; command my sword, my heart;
The soul is tried best by the body’s smart.
Isa. You are a stranger to this land and me.
What madness is’t for me to trust you then?
To cozen women is a trade ’mongst men;
Smooth promises, faint passions, with a lie,
Deceives our sex[282] of fame and chastity. 80
What danger durst you hazard for my love?