Fred. What honor's that? your Dukedomes interest? Your princely birth? your honerable fame? All these are blemisht with a strumpets name.
Mon. Be not so cruell to bereave her life 'Twill draw upon thee a perpetuall scar,— Thy fathers curse, and a continuall warre.
Duke. Oh doe not threaten; Fredericke is so mild
He will not prove such a degenerate child.
I cannot blame him tho' hee rise in armes:
'Twas not in hate to me, but in disdaine
That I should sell my royaltie so vaine;
But did he know the value of the jem,
Hee would not crase[204] it for a Dyadem.
That shee was common her owne words approve,
But many faults are cover'd where men love.
As thou respects my blessing and good dayes,
Restore her, Fredericke, and augment her prayse.
Fred. Restore her?
Albert. Never.
Duke. Albert, thou wert kind And I ne're wrong'd thee; doe not change thy minde.
Hat. You doe abase your honour to intreate.
Duke. How can I choose? my affection is so great.
Alfred. Your power is strong, the enemy is but weake.
Duke. In her destruction all my powers will breake.
As thou dost hope of kindnesse in thy choyse
If ere thou love, give eare unto my voice;
Turne not aside thy eye, the feares I feele
Makes me to bow, where tis thy part to kneele.
Loe vassailelike, laying aside command,
I humbly crave this favour at thy hand:
Let me have my beloved, and take my state;
My life I undervalue to that rate.
Crave anything that in my power doth lye,
Tis thine, so faire Valentia may not dye.