Flo. O, spare
The treasure of those tears! Some captive king,
Whom fortune hath lock'd up in iron, wants
One such to buy his freedom. Madam, all
Those streams of blood which flow to warm my earth,
Lest it congeal to death, cannot compare
For value with the least drop shed for you,
By such a quarrel made inestimable.
Queen. The war, I see, hath only been the field
To exercise your fancy. Your discourse
Shows that the court was kept beneath your tent;
Yet cannot I, my lord, be jealous, but
'Tis mingled with some love.
Flo. 'Tis a pure love,
Unmix'd as is the soul. The world perhaps
May judge a kingdom hath enamour'd me,
And that your titles dress you forth, to raise
My appetite up higher. Pardon love,
If it grow envious even of your fortune,
And that I'm forc'd to wish you had been daughter
Of some poor mountain-cottager, without
All dowry but your own beauty.[282] Then I might
Have showed a flame untainted with ambition,
And courted you; but now the circumstance
Of greatness seems to challenge more than I
Have power to give, and, working up my love,
I serve my fortune.
Queen. You have not, my lord,
Found me uneasy to your vows: and, when
The troubled stream of my tempestuous state
Shall meet a perfect calm, you then shall know
How worthy I esteem your virtue.
Flo. Speak but those words again, and seat me in
An orb above corruption! O, confirm
Your thoughts but with a promise.
Queen. How, a promise!
I shall repent my favour if I hear
A syllable which sounds like that. Upon
My marriage-day I have vowed to bring myself
A free oblation to the holy altar;
Not, like a fearful debtor, tender low[283]
To save my bond. My lord, I must not hear
One whisper of a promise.
Flo. I'm silent,
And use me as your vassal; for a title
More glorious I shall never covet. But——
Queen. No jealousy, my lord.
Enter Lerma.
Ler. Your majesty
Is great in mercy; and I hope a stranger
Shall meet it, if his speech be an offence.