A Select Collection of Old English Plays, Volume 05

English drama
Amongst the rest of what you have in charge,
    The prince's ransom must not be forgot:
    That's none of mine, but his that took him prisoner;
    And well his forwardness deserves reward:
    It was Horatio, our knight marshal's son.

                              AMBASSADOR.

    Between us there's a price already pitch'd,
    And shall be sent with all convenient speed.

                                 KING.

    Then once again farewell, my lord.

                              AMBASSADOR.

    Farewell, my lord of Castile, and the rest.                 [_Exit._

                                 KING.

    Now, brother, you must take some little pains[117]
    To win fair Bell'-Imperia from her will;
    Young virgins must be ruled by their friends:
    The prince is amiable, and loves her well:
    If she neglect him and forego his love,
    She both will wrong her own estate and ours;
    Therefore, whiles I do entertain the prince
    With greatest pleasure[118] that our court affords,
    Endeavour you to win your daughter's thought:
    If she give back, all this will come to nought.

                                                              [_Exeunt._

           _Enter_ HORATIO, BELL'-IMPERIA, _and_ PEDRINGANO.

                                HORATIO.

    Now that the night begins with sable wings
    To overcloud the brightness of the sun,
    And that in darkness pleasures may be done;
    Come, Bell'-Imperia, let us to the bower,
    And there in safety pass a pleasant hour.

                             BELL'-IMPERIA.

    I follow thee, my love, and will not back,
    Although my fainting heart controls my soul.

                                HORATIO.

    Why, make you doubt of Pedringano's faith?

                             BELL'-IMPERIA.

    No, he is as trusty as my second self.--
    Go, Pedringano, watch without the gate,
    And let us know, if any make approach.

                              PEDRINGANO.

    Instead of watching, I'll deserve more gold,
    By fetching Don Lorenzo to this match.                     [_Aside._

                                                           [_Exit_ PED.

                                HORATIO.

    What means my love?

                             BELL'-IMPERIA.

    I know not what myself:
    And yet my heart foretells me some mischance.

                                HORATIO.

    Sweet, say not so; fair fortune is our friend,
    And heav'ns have[119] shut up day to pleasure us.
    The stars, thou seest, hold back their twinkling shine,
    And Luna hides herself to pleasure us.

                             BELL'-IMPERIA.

    Thou hast prevail'd; I'll conquer my misdoubt,
    And in thy love and counsel drown my fear.
    I fear no more: love now is all my thoughts.
    Why sit we not? for pleasure asketh ease.

                                HORATIO.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
A Select Collection of Old English Plays, Volume 05

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