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Are still behind the hangings; that the servants
Have from him in command to watch who visits.
'Tis safest, in my judgment, in his presence
That thou forbear to cast a smile upon me;
And that, like old December, I should look
With an unpleasant and contracted brow.
Varina. What, canst thou change thy heart, my dear,

that heart
Of flesh thou gav'st me, into adamant,
Or rigid marble ? canst thou frown on me?

Rod. You do mistake me, sweet, I mean not so
To change my heart; I'll change my countenance,
But keep my heart as loyal as before.

Var. In truth I cannot credit it, that thou
Canst cast a frown on me; I prithee, try.
Rod. Then thus :

(He tries, and cannot ; they smile on each other.) Var. I prithee, sweet, betake thyself to school; This lesson thou must learn ; in faith thou art out.

Rod. Well, I must learn, and practise it, or we Shall blast our budding hopes.

Var. Come, try again.

Rod. But if I try, and prove a good proficient;
If I do act my part discretely, you
Must take it as a play, not as a truth;
Think it a formal, not a real frown.

Var. I shall
Rod. Then thus : i'faith, minion, I'll look to thee.

(She stoons.) Rod. Why, how now, sweet !—I did mistrust thy weak


Now I have learn'd my part, you are to seek.

Var. 'Faith, 'twas my weakness; when I did perceive A cloud of rage condensed on thy brow, My heart began to melt.


you are

Passionate Courtship.
Infortunio. I must have other answer, for I love

Selina. Must! but I don't see any necessity that
I must love you. I do confess
A proper man.

Inf. O do not mock, Selina; let not excellence,
Which you are full of, make you proud and scornful.
I am a Gentleman; though my outward part
Cannot attract affection, yet some have told me,
Nature hath made me what she need not shame.
Yet look into my

heart; there


shall see
What you cannot despise, for there you are
With all your graces waiting on you ; there
Love hath made you a throne to sit, and rule
O'er Infortunio; all my thoughts obeying,
And honouring you as queen. Pass by my outside,
My breast I dare compare


Sel. But who can see this breast you boast of so ?

Inf. O 'tis an easy work; for though it be
Not to be pierced by the dull eye,

whose beam
Is spent on outward shapes, there is a way
To make a search into its hidden'st passage.

would not love, to please your sense.
A tree, that bears a ragged unleav'd top
In depth of winter, may when summer comes
Speak by his fruit he is not dead but youthful,
Though once he shew'd no sap: my heart's a plant
Kept down by colder thoughts and doubtful fears.
Your frowns like winter storms make it seem dead,


I know you

shall see

But yet it is not so; make it but yours,

it spring, and shoot forth leares
Worthy your eye, and the oppressed sap
Ascend to every part to make it green,
And pay your love with fruit when harvest comes.

Sel. Then you confess your love is cold as yet,
And winter's in your heart.

Inf. Mistake me not, Selina, for I say My heart is cold, not love.

Sel. And yet your love is from your heart, I'll warrant

Inf. O you are nimble to mistake.
My heart is cold in your displeasures only,
And yet my love is fervent; for your eye,
Casting out beams, maintains the flame it burns in.
Again, sweet Love,
My heart is not mine own, 'tis yours, you have it ;
And while it naked lies, not deign'd your bosom
To keep it warm, how can it be but cold,
In danger to be frozen ? blame not it,
You only are in fault it hath no heat.

Sel. Well, Sir ; I know you have rhetoric, but I
Can without art give you a final answer.

Inf. O stay, and think awhile; I cannot relish
You should say final : sweet, deliberate ;
It doth concern all the estate I have;
I mean not dunghill treasure, but my life
Doth stand or fall to it; if your answer be
That you can love me, be as swift as lightning ;
But if you mean to kill me, and reject
My so long love-devotions, which I've paid
As to an altar, stay a little longer,
And let me count the riches I shall lose
By one poor airy word: first give me back
That part of Infortunio that is lost
Within your love; play not the tyrant with me.



False Mistress.

SCUDMORE alone ; having a letter in his hand from

Bellafront, assuring him of her faith.
Scud. If what I feel I could express in words,
Methinks I could speak joy enough to men
To banish sadness from all love for ever.
O thou that reconcilest the faults of all
Thy frothy sex, and in thy single self
Confines ! nay, has engross'd, virtue enough
To frame a spacious world of virtuous women !
Had’st thou been the beginning of thy sex,
I think the devil in the serpent's skin
Had wanted cunning to o'er-come thy goodness ;
And all had lived and died in innocency,
The whole creation-
Who's there?-come in-

Nevill. (entering.) What up already, Scudmore?
Scud. Good morrow, my dear Nevill?
Nev. What's this ? a letter ! sure it is not so—
Scud. By heav'n, you must excuse me. Come, I

You will not wrong my friendship, and your manners,
To tempt me so.

Nev. Not for the world, my friend. Good morrow

Scud. Nay, Sir, neither must you Depart in anger from this friendly hand. I swear I love you better than all men, Equally with all virtue in the world :

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Yet this would be a key to lead you to
A prize of that importance-

Nev. Worthy friend,
I leave you not in anger,—what d'ye mean ?-
Nor am I of that inquisitive nature framed,
To thirst to know your private businesses.
Why, they concern not me: if they be ill,
And dangerous, 'twould grieve me much to know them;
If good, be they so; though I know them not:
Nor would I do your love so gross a wrong,
To covet to participate affairs
Of that near touch, which your assured love
Doth not think fit, or dares not trust me with.
Scud. How sweetly doth your friendship play with

And with a simple subtlety steals my heart
Out of my bosom! by the holiest love
That ever made a story, you are a man
With all good so replete, that I durst trust you
E'en with this secret, were it singly mine.

Nev. I do believe you. Farewell, worthy friend.
Scud. Nay, look you, this same fashion does not

please me. You were not wont to make your visitation So short and careless.

Nev. 'Tis your jealousy, That makes you think it so; for, by my soul, You've given me no distaste in keeping from me All things that might be burdensome, and oppress me.In truth, I am invited to a Wedding; And the morn faster goes away from me, Than I toward it : and so good morrow Scud. Good morrow, Sir. Think I durst show it

youNev. Now, by my life, I not desire it, Sir,

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