Mess. My Lord, the Duke himselfe has come to urge Your promise to him, which you must not break.
Hosch. Nor will you wish to break it, good my lord,
I am assur'd, when you shall see the Dutchesse,
Whose matchlesse beauties will renew the minde
Of her rare entertainment, and her presence
Put all new thoughts of love out of your minde.
Alp. Well, I do see 'tis best, my sweete Hyanthie, That thou stand further.
Hya. Ile be gone, my Lord.
Alp. Not gone, but mix thy selfe among the rest. What a spight is this! counsell me, Hardenbergh.
Hard. The Dutchesse comes, my Lord.
Alp. Out of my life, how shall I look on her?
Enter Constan., Kather., Lassen., Lucil., Cassi.,
Cornelia, Ite. A Song: after the Dutchesse speakes.
Kath. How now, my Lord? you looke as one dismaid; Have any visions troubled you of late?
Alp. Your grace and your most princely brother here Are highlie welcome to the Saxon Court.