_Fer_. Committing this my Jewell to your trust I must unto my charge: my blessing! _Ele_. Oh doe not leave me, sir; for without you What safety can I have? you are my father: Pray, stay you with me. _Fer_. Oh, my Girle, I cannot, Dare not be so unfaithfull to the trust His maiesty put me in, though I would stay. _Ele_. I feare if you goe hence all will not long be well. _Hen_. Distrust you me, Eleonora? _Ele_. No, indeed: You ever had with me th'opinion Of a most noble gentleman. _Fer_. What then? _Ele_. I know not what besides my feare; and that Beggs I may share your fortune, since you may not Take up such safety here as I have. _Fer_. Come, You are to blame: this heaven that now lookes on us With rugged brow may quickly smile againe And then I shall revisite my _Eleonora_. So, farewell. [_Exit_. _Hen_. Till then with greater care then were the Dragons Supposd to watch the Golden Apples growing In the _Hesperides_, shall _Henrico_ wayte On his best loved. Oh, my _Eleonora_, I would to heaven there were no war but here To shoote love darts! each smile from this fayre Eye May take an Army prisoners: let me give My life up here unto these lipps, and yet I shall, by the sweetnes of a kisse, take back The same againe. Oh thou in whom alone Vertue hath perfect figure, hide not day In such a Cloud: what feare hath enterd here? My life is twisted in a Thread with thine; Were't not defenced, there could nothing come To make this cheeke looke pale, which at your Eye Will not fall dead before you.-- _Enter Buzzano_. Sirra, let all your care and duty bee Employed to cheere this Lady: pray, be merry. _Buz_. Oh, sir, yonders such doings. _Hen_. Hell on your bawling! not a sillable to affright her, or I shall tune your instrument there. _Buz_. Hele breake the head of my instrument! Why, sir, weomen are not affraid to heare of doings. _Hen_. Still jarring? _Buz_. When the whole towne is altogether by th'eares you might give me leave to jar a little my selfe:--I have done, sir. _Hen_. Putt on thy merryest face, _Buzzano_. _Buz_. I have but one face, but I can make a great many. _Hen_. My best _Eleonora_, I shall soone returne: In the meane time be owner of this house, The possesour. All danger, sweet, shall dwell Far off: Ile but enquire the state of things In the Citty, and fly back to thee with loves wings. [_Exit_. _Ele_. I prithee call him backe. _Buz_. Signior _Henrico_, She has something more to say to you. [_Redit_. _Hen_. To me, sweetest? _Ele_. _Henrico_, doe you love me? _Hen_. By this faire hand. _Ele_. And will you leave me, too? _Hen_. Not for the wealth of _Spaine_.