And paid the nymph again as much in tears; Which gave him roots; and of the crystal springs, That could be wish'd, so that, methought, I could Philaster prefers Bellario to the Service of the Princess Arethusa. Full of regard unto thy tender youth, For thine own modesty; and for my sake, Apter to give, than thou wilt be to ask, aye, or deserve. Bell. Sir, you did take me up when I was nothing, And only yet am something by being yours; You trusted me unknown; and that which you are apt construe a simple innocence in me, Perhaps might have been craft, the cunning of a boy Harden'd in lies and theft; yet ventur'd you To part my miseries and me: for which, I never can expect to serve a lady That bears more honour in her breast than you. Phi. But, boy, it will prefer thee; thou art young, And bear'st a childish overflowing love To them that clap thy cheeks and speak thee fair yet. She is a princess I prefer thee to. Bell. In that small time that I have seen the world, I never knew a man hasty to part With a servant he thought trusty; I remember, Bell. Sir, if I have made A fault of ignorance, instruct my youth; Phi. Thy love doth plead so prettily to stay, And when thou art with her thou dwell'st with me: With joy receive thee; as I live, I will; Nay weep not, gentle boy; 'tis more than time Bell. I am gone; But since I am to part with you, my lord, Bellario describes to the Princess Arethusa the manner of his master Philaster's love for her. Are. Sir, you are sad to change your service, is't not so? Bell. Madam, I have not chang'd: I wait on you, To do him service. Are. Thou disclaim'st in me; Tell me thy name Bell. Bellario. Are. Thou canst sing and play? Bell. If grief will give me leave, madam, I can. Are. Alas! what kind of grief can thy years know? Had'st thou a curst master when thou went'st to school? Thou art not capable of any other grief; Thy brows and cheeks are smooth as waters be, Bell. Love, madam? I know not what it is. Are. Canst thou know grief, and never yet knew'st love? Thou art deceiv'd, boy. As if he wish'd me well? Bell. If it be love, Does he speak of me To forget all respect of his own friends, chance; Are. O you're a cunning boy, and taught to lie Philaster is jealous of Bellario with the Princess. The princess doth commend her love, her life, And this unto you. Phi. O Bellario, Now I perceive she loves me, she does shew it In loving thee, my boy, she has made thee brave. Though far unfit for me who do attend. Phi. Thou art grown courtly, boy. O let all women That love black deeds learn to dissemble here. Here by this paper she does write to me As if her heart were mines of adamant To all the world besides, but unto me A maiden snow that melted with my looks. Tell me, my boy, how doth the princess use thee? Bell. Scarce like her servant, but as if I were Phi. Why this is wond'rous well: But what kind language does she feed thee with? Bell. Why, she does tell me, she will trust my youth With all her loving secrets, and does call me Her pretty servant, bids me weep no more Regarded and such words of that soft strain, : That I am nearer weeping when she ends Than ere she spake. Phi. This is much better still. Bell. Are you ill, my lord? Phi. Ill? No, Bellario. Bell. Methinks your words Fall not from off your tongue so evenly, Nor is there in your looks that quietness, That I was wont to see. Phi. Thou art deceiv'd, boy.-And she strokes thy head? Bell. Yes. Phi. And she does clap thy cheeks? Bell. She does, my lord. Phi. And she does kiss thee, boy, ha? Bell. How, my lord? |