Cæl. A constant wife.
Kin. Am I confounded twice?
Blasted with wonder.
Ter. O delude we not,
Thou art too true to liue agen, too faire
To be my Cælestine, too constant farre
To be a woman.
Cæl. Not to be thy wife,
But first I pleade my duetie, and salute
The world agen.
Sir quin. My King, my Sonne, know all,
I am an Actor in this misterie,
And beare the chiefest part. The Father I,
Twas I that ministred to her chaste bloud,
A true somniferous potion, which did steale
Her thoughts to sleepe, and flattered her with death:
I cal’d it a quick poison’d drug, to trie
The Bride-groomes loue, and the Brides constancie.
He in the passion of his loue did fight,
A combat with affection; so did both,
She for the poison stroue, he for his oath:
Thus like a happie Father, I haue won,
A constant Daughter, and a louing Sonne.
Kin. Mirrour of Maidens, wonder of thy name,
I giue thee that art giuen, pure, chaste, the same
Heere Wat: I would not part (for the worlds pride)
So true a Bride-groome, and so chaste a Bride.
Cri. My Leige, to wed a Comicall euent,
To presupposed tragicke Argument:
Vouchsafe to exercise your eyes, and see
A humorous dreadfull Poet take degree.
Kin. Dreadfull in his proportion or his pen?
Cris. In both, he calles himselfe the whip of men.