LADY F. No, not deluded;
But hind'red from desire unchaste and rude.
O, let me woo ye with the tongue of ruth,
Dewing your princely hand with pity's tears,
That you would leave this most unlawful suit,
If e'er we live, till Fauconbridge be dead,
(As God defend his death I should desire).
Then, if your highness deign so base a match,
And holy laws admit a marriage,
Considering our affinity in blood,
I will become your handmaid, not your harlot—
That shame shall never dwell upon my brow.
ROB. I'faith, my lord, she's honourably resolv'd,
For shame, no more; importune her no more.
RICH. Marian, I see thy virtue, and commend it;
I know my error, seeking thy dishonour,
But the respectless, reasonless command
Of my inflamed love, bids me still try,
And trample under foot all piety;
Yet, for I will not seem too impious,
Too inconsiderate of thy seeming grief,
Vouchsafe to be my mistress: use me kindly.
And I protest I'll strive with all my power,
That lust himself may in his heat devour.
LADY F. You are my servant, then.
RICH. Thanks, sacred mistress.
ROB. What am I?
LADY F. You are my fellow Robert.
Enter FAUCONBRIDGE in his hose and doublet.
FAU. What, Prince Richard? noble Huntington?
Welcome, i'faith, welcome! by the morrow mass!
You are come as fitly as my heart can wish.
Prince John this night will be a reveller,
He hath invited me and Marian,
God's marry mother, go along with us,
It's but hard by, close by—at our town-tavern.
RICH. Your tavern?