Asc. I grew a thief, a most ungrateful thief
In my designs, and labour'd to have stole
The jewel of thy life from thee; a jewel
Myself so freely had bestowed upon
The merits of thy youth.
Asc. How justly had I perish'd by thy sword!
How happy for my safety! Then had I
Been lost in my disguise, or died, my crime
Unknown unto the world. Now, if I live,
I must wade through a sea of injuries,
T' attain an unsafe haven.
Enter the Queen.
Flo. Cheer yourself,
Dread sir. Though, as I give the legacy,
I breathe my last, yet will I show a heart
Thankful to your great favours. Madam, here
Behold the Sovereign of Castile.
Queen. You have
Been cruel in your kindness, sir, to keep
So long your sacred person hid from us.
Flo. He is your lover, madam, and deserves
The title: whether you observe his youth,
So beauteous nature doats upon her work,
Or weigh his greatness, powerful to defend you
Should fate and all mankind conspire your ruin.
And add to that, he merits you, his sword
Having restored your freedom, when poor I
Was judg'd, like some old instrument of war,
Unfit for service. All my interest
I here resign to th' author of my fate;
My love I cannot, which must still remain
Companion to my life: but I'll take heed
My wound appear not, though it inward bleed. [Exit.
Asc. I wait here, madam, and attend your sentence;
For 'tis my doom.
Queen. I am that sad wretch,
Stands trembling at the bar. I know your merit,
And know a gratitude, great as e'er was owing,
By an injured soul relieved: I duly weigh
That double tie, which doth oblige me yours.
First, when you sent your soldiers to my rescue;
Then, by exposing your most sacred person
To th' dangers of a war.
Asc. A trivial nothing.