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Thy tender youth: A love from me to thee
Is firm whate'er thou dost : It troubles me,
That I have calļd the blood out of thy cheeks,
That did so well become them. But, good boy,
Let me not see thee more : Something is done,
That will distract me, that will make me mad,
If I behold thee; if thou tender'ft me,
Let me not see thee..

Bel. I will fly as far
As there is morning, ere I give distaste
To that moft honour'd mind. But thro' these tears,
Shed at my hopeless parting, I can see
A world of treason practis'd upon you,
And her, and me. Farewell, for evermore !
If you shall hear, that forrow struck me dead,
And after find me loyal, let there be
A tear shed from you in my memory,
And I shall rest at peace,

[Exit Bel,
Phi. Blessing be with thee,
Whatever thou deserv'ft! Oh, where shall I
Go bathe this body? Nature, too unkind,
That made no med'cine for a troubled mind!

[Exit Pbị. Scene, Arethusa’s apartment.

Enter Arethusa.
Are. I marvel, my boy.comes not back again.
E 4

But

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But that I know my love will question him
Over and over; how I fept, wak’d, talk'd!
How I remember'd him, when his dear name
Was laft fpoke! and how, when I ligh’d, wept, fung,
And ten thousand such! I should be angry at his stay,

Enter King,

King. What, at your meditations! Who attends

you?

Are. None but my fingle felf, I need no guard; I do no wrong, nor fear none.

King. Tell me, have you not a boy?
Are. Yes, Sir.
King. What kind of boy?
Are. A page, a waiting-boy.
King, A handsome boy?

Are. I think he be not ugly;
Well qualified, and dutiful, I know him;
I took him not for beauty.

King, He speaks, and sings, and plays ?
Are. Yes, Sir.
King. About eighteen?
Are. I never ask'd his

age.
King. Is he full of service ?
Are. By your pardon, why do you ask ?
King. Put him away.

Are

You're one

Are. Sir!
King. Put him away; h'has done you that good

service
Shames me to speak of.

Are. Good Sir, let me understand you.

King. If you fear me,
Shew it in duty; put away that boy.

Are. Let me have reafon for it, Sir, and then Your will is my command,

King. Do you not blush to ask it? Caft him off, Or I fhall do the same to you. Shame with me, and fo near unto myfelf, That, by my life, I dare not tell myself What you have done.

Are. What have I done, my lord ?

King. Understand me well ; There be foul whispers stirring; cast him off, And suddenly do it. Farewell. [Exit King,

Are. Where may a maiden live securely free, Keeping her honour fafe? Not with the living: They feed upon opinions, errors, dreams, And make 'em truths: They draw a nourishment Out of defamings, grow upon disgraces, And when they fee a virtue fortified Strongly above the battery of their tongues, Oh, how they cast to fink it! and defeated

(Soul(Soul-fick with poison) strike the monuments Where noble names lie fleeping !

Enter Philafter. Phi. Peace to your fairest thoughts, my deareft

miftress! Are. Oh, my dear fervant, I have a war within me. Phi. He must be more than man, that makes

these crystals
Run into rivers. Sweetest fair, the cause ?
And as I am your llave, tied to your goodness, he
Your creature made again from what I was,
And newly spirited, I'll right your honours.

Are. Oh, my best love; that boy! :
Phi. What boy?..
Are. The pretty boy you gave me me
Phi. What of him?
Are. Must be no more mine.
Phi. Why?
Are. They are jealous of him,
Phi. Jealous ! who?
Are. The king.

Phi. Oh, my fortune !
Then 'tis no idle jealousy. Let him go.

Are. Oh, cruel,
Are you hard-hearted too? Who shall now tell you,

How

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How much I loy'd you? Who shall swear it to you, And weep the tears I send? Who shall now bring

you Letters, rings, bracelets, lose his health in service? Wake tedious nights in stories of your praise ? Who now shall sing your crying elegies, And strike a sad soul into senseless pictures, And make them mourn? Who fhall take up his lute, And touch it, till he crown a filent sleep Upon my eyelid, making me dream and cry, Oh, my dear, dear Philaster!

Phi. Oh, my heart! 'Would he had broken thee, that made thee know This lady was not loyal ! Mistress, forget The boy, I'll get thee a far better one.

Are. Oh, never, never, such a boy again, As my Bellario.

Phi. 'Tis but your fond affection.

Are. With thee, my boy, farewell for ever
All secrecy in servants ! Farewell faith,
And all desire to do well for itself!
Let all that shall succeed thee, for thy wrongs,
Sell and betray chaste love!

Phi. And all this passion for a boy?

Are. He was your boy; you gave him to me, and The loss of such must have a mourning for,

Phi.

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