Ferd.—What meanes my second selfe by this long stay?
I cannot rest till I be certified
What good or bad successe my suite returnes.
But he is gone, and in faire Katharines hand
I see his picture. What may this pretend?
Kath. Thou hast done well indeed, in every part
Thou shewst complete and cunning workmanship;
His eye, his lip, his cheeke are rightly fram'd,
But one thing thou hast grossly over-slipt:
Where is his stubborne unrelenting heart
That lurkes in secret as his master doth,
Disdayning to regard or pity me.
Payn. Madam, his heart must be imagined By the description of the outward parts.
Kath. O no, for then it would be tractable, Mild and applausive as the others be.
Ferd. No Prince but Pembrooke dwels in Katharines eye.
[Kath] Whose that disturbs our pleasing solitude?
Ferd. Know you not me? my name is Ferdinand, Whose faithfull love Lord Pembrooke late commenct.
Kath. Speake then for Pembrooke as he did for you Or els your bootlesse suite will soon be cold.
Ferd. Why he was Orator in my behalfe.
If I should speake for him, as he for me,
Then should I breathe forth passions[117] not mine owne.—
I, I, tis so; the villaine in my name
Hath purchas'd her affection for himselfe,
And therefore was he absent from the feast,
And therefore shuns my sight and leaves behind
This counterfet to keep him still in mind.
Tis so, tis so; base Traytor, for this wronge
My sword shall cut out thy perfidious toung. [Exit.
Enter Bowyer.