A Select Collection of Old English Plays, Volume 05

English drama

And wherein was mine honour touch'd in that?

                               BALTHAZAR.

    Have patience, Bell'-Imperia; hear the rest.

                                LORENZO.

    Me (next in sight) as messenger they sent,
    To give him notice that they were so nigh:
    Now when I came, consorted with the prince,
    And unexpected, in an arbour there,
    Found Bell'-Imperia with Horatio.

                             BELL'-IMPERIA.

    How then?

                                LORENZO.

    Why then, remembering that old disgrace,
    Which you for Don Andrea had endured,
    And now were likely longer to sustain,
    By being found so meanly accompanied,
    Thought rather, for I knew[199] no readier mean,
    To thrust Horatio forth my father's way.

                               BALTHAZAR.

    And carry you obscurely somewhere else,
    Lest that his highness should have found you there.

                             BELL'-IMPERIA.

    Even so, my lord? and you are witness
    That this is true which he entreateth of?
    You, gentle brother, forg'd this for my sake;
    And you, my lord, were made his instrument:
    A work of worth, worthy the noting too!
    But what's the cause that you conceal'd me since?

                                LORENZO.

    Your melancholy, sister, since the news
    Of your first favourite Don Andrea's death,
    My father's old wrath hath exasperate.

                               BALTHAZAR.

    And better was't for you, being in disgrace,
    To absent yourself, and give his fury place.

                             BELL'-IMPERIA.

    But why had I no notice of his ire?

                                LORENZO.

    That were to add more fuel to your[200] fire,
    Who burnt like Ætna, for Andrea's loss.

                             BELL'-IMPERIA.

    Hath not my father then inquir'd for me?

                                LORENZO.

    Sister, he hath, and thus excus'd I thee.

                                            [_He whispereth in her ear._

    But, Bell'-Imperia, see the gentle prince;
    Look on thy love, behold young Balthazar,
    Whose passions by thy presence are increas'd;
    And in whose melancholy thou may'st see
    Thy hate, his[201] love: thy flight, his following thee.

                             BELL'-IMPERIA.

    Brother, you are become an orator--
    I know not, I, by what experience--
    Too politic for me past all compare,
    Since last I saw you; but content yourself:
    The prince is meditating higher things.

                               BALTHAZAR.

    'Tis of thy beauty then, that conquers kings;
    Of those thy tresses, Ariadne's twines,[202]
    Wherewith my liberty thou hast surprised:
    Of that thine ivory front, my sorrow's map,
    Wherein I see no haven to rest my hope.

                             BELL'-IMPERIA.

Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.

A Select Collection of Old English Plays, Volume 05

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