Queen. With all the love I can, whose fire is such, To give her heat, I cannot burne too much.
King. Contracted Bride and Bridegroome sit;
Sweet flowres not pluck'd in season lose their scent,
So will our pleasures. Father Cardinall,
Methinkes this morning new begins our reigne.
Car. Peace had her Sabbath ne're till now in Spaine.
King. Where is our noble Souldier, Baltazar? So close in conference with that Signior?
No. No.
King. What think'st thou of this great day Baltazar?
Bal. Of this day? why, as of a new play, if it ends well all's well. All men are but Actors; now if you, being the King, should be out of your part, or the Queene out of hers or your Dons out of theirs, here's No wil never be out of his.
No. No.
Bal. 'Twere a lamentable peece of stuffe to see great Statesmen have vile Exits; but I hope there are nothing but plaudities in all your Eyes.
King. Mine, I protest, are free.