Hya. Let me go to him.
Alp. Thou shalt not have thy will nor he his love;
Neither of both know what is fit for you.
I love with judgment and upon cold bloud,
He with youths furie, without reasons stay;
And this shall time and my kind usage of thee
Make thee discerne; meane time consider this,
That I neglect for thee a beautious Dutchesse
Who next to thee is fairest in the world.
Enter Messenger.
Mess. My Lord, the Duke of Brunswick and his sister, The beautious Dutchesse, are arrived here.
Alp. Whats that; the Dutchesse?
Mess. Even her grace, my Lord.
Alp. Why, Hardenbergh, ha! is the Dutchesse come?
Hard. I know not, my good Lord. Where is the Dutchesse?
Mess. Hard by, my Lord.
Alp. Sounes, I am not here; go tell her so: Or let her come, my choice is free in love. Come, my Hyanthe, stand thou close to me.