honour toucht in that? BAL. Haue patience, Bel-imperia; heare the rest. LOR. Me, next in sight, as messenger they sent To giue him notice that they were so nigh:     Now, when I came, consorted with the prince, And vnexpected in an arbor there Found Bel-imperia with Horatio—    BEL. How then? LOR. Why, then, remembring that olde disgrace Which you for Don Andrea had indurde, And now were likely longer to sustaine By being found so meanely accompanied, Thought rather, for I knew no readier meane, To thrust Horatio forth my fathers way. BAL. And carry you obscurely some-where els, Least that his Highnes should haue found you there. BEL.  Euen so, my lord? And you are witnesse That this is true which he entreateth of? You, gentle brother, forged this for my sake? And you, my lord, were made his instrument? A worke of worth! worthy the noting too! But whats the cause that you concealde me since? LOR. Your melancholly, sister, since the newes Of your first fauorite Don Andreas death My fathers olde wrath hath exasperate. BAL. And better wast for you, being in disgrace, To absent your-selfe and giue his fury place. BEL. But why I had no notice of his ire? LOR. That were to adde more fewell to your fire, Who burnt like Aetne for Andreas losse. BEL. Hath not my father then enquird for me? LOR. Sister, he hath; and this excusde I thee. He whispereth in her eare. But, Bel-imperia, see the gentle prince; Looke on thy loue; beholde yong Balthazar, Whose passions by the presence are increast, And in whose melachollie thou maiest see Thy hate, his loue, thy flight, his following thee. BEL. Brother, you are become an oratour—     I know not, I, by what experience—     Too politick for me, past all compare, Since I last saw you. But content your-selfe; The prince is meditating higher things. BAL. Tis of thy beauty, then, that conquers kings, Of those thy tresses, Ariadnes twines, Wherewith my libertie thou hast surprisde, Of that thine iuorie front, my sorrowes map, Wherein I see no hauen to rest my hope. BEL. To loue and feare, and both at once, my lord, In my conceipt, are things of more import Then womens wit are to be busied with. BAL. Tis that I loue thee. BEL. Whome? BAL. Bel-imperia. BEL. But that I feare? BAL. Whome? BEL. Bel-imperia. LOR. Feare your-selfe? BEL. I, brother. LOR. How? BEL. As those That, [when] they loue, are loath and 

 Prev. P 37/58 next