Mot. Yes, signior Flores, 'tis Earle Lassingbergh.—My lord, what meane you to come this disguisd?
Lu. Aye me!
Lass. The foolish boye is mad; I am Cornelius. Earle Lassingbergh? I never heard of him.
Flo. O Lassingbergh, we know your villainie,
And thy dishonour (fond Lucilia).
Asse that I was, dull, sencelesse, grosse braynd fool
That dayly saw so many evident signes
Of their close dealings, winckings, becks and touches,
And what not? To enforce me to discerne,
Had I not been effatuate even by Fate.
Your presence, noble Lords (in my disgrace)
Doth deepely moove mee, and I heere protest
Most solemnly (in sight of heaven and you)
That if Earle Lassingbergh this day refuse
To make faire mends for this fowle trespasse done,
I will revenge me on his treacherous heart
Though I sustaine for him a thousand deaths.
Cass. This action (traitour Lassingbergh) deserves Great satisfaction or else great revenge.
Alber. Beleeve me, gallant Earle, your choice is faire. And worthy your most honourable love.
Lassin. My Lord, it greeves me to be thus unmaskt
And made ridiculous in the stealth of love;
But (for Lucilias honour) I protest
(Not for the desperate vowe that Flores made)
She was my wife before she knew my love,
By secret promise made in sight of heaven.
The marriage which he urgeth I accept,
But this compulsion and unkinde disgrace
Hath altered the condition of my love
And filde my heart with yrksome discontent.
Flor. My Lord, I must preferre mine honour still
Before the pleasure of the greatest Monarch,
Which since your Lordship seekes to gratifie
With just and friendly satisfaction,
I will endeavour to redeeme the thought
Of your affection and lost love to us.
Wilt please you therefore now to associate
This woorthy Prince at this unwoorthy banquet?
Alber. My Lord, let me intreate your company.
Lassin. Hold mee excusd, faire Prince; my grieved thoughts
Are farre unmeete for festivall delights:
Heere will I sit and feede on melancholie,
A humour (now) most pleasing to my taste.