_Pro._ Ah Sirrah; And have we got you here? faith Noble Lady, We'l keep you one month Courtier. _Luci._ Gods defend Sir, I never lik'd a trade worse. _Pro._ Hark ye. _Luci._ No Sir. _Pro._ Ye are grown the strangest Lady. _Luci._ How? _Pro._ By Heaven, 'Tis true I tell ye, and you'l find it. _Luci._ I? I'le rather find my grave, and so inform him. _Pro._ Is it not pity Gentlemen, this Lady, (Nay I'le deal roughly with ye, yet not hurt ye) Sho[u]ld live alone, and give such heavenly beauty Only to walls, and hangings? _Luci._ Good Sir, patience: I am no wonder, neither come to that end, Ye do my Lord an injury to stay me, Who though ye are the Princes, yet dare tell ye He keeps no wife for your wayes. _Bal._ Well, well Lady; However you are pleas'd to think of us, Ye are welcom, and ye shall be welcome. _Luci._ Shew it In that I come for then, in leading me Where my lov'd Lord is, not in flattery:-- [_Jewels shew'd._ Nay ye may draw the Curtain, I have seen 'em, But none worth half my honesty. _Claud._ Are these Sir, Laid here to take? _Pro._ Yes, for your Lady, Gentlewomen. _Mar._ We had been doing else. _Bal._ Meaner Jewels Would fit your worths. _Claud._ And meaner clothes your bodies. _Luci._ The Gods shall kill me first. _Lici._ There's better dying; I'th' Emperours arms goe to, but be not angry-- These are but talks sweet Lady. _Enter_ Phorba, _and_ Ardelia. _Phor._ Where is this stranger? rushes, Ladys, rushes, Rushes as green as Summer for this stranger. _Pro._ Here's Ladies come to see you. _Luci._ You are gone then? I take it 'tis your _Qu_. _Pro._ Or rather manners, You are better fitted _Madam_, we but tire ye, Therefore we'l leave you for an hour, and bring Your much lov'd Lord unto you-- [_Exeunt._ _Luci._ Then I'le thank ye, I am betrai'd for certain; well _Lucina_, If thou do'st fall from vertue, may the Earth That after death should shoot up gardens of thee, Spreading thy living goodness into branches, Fly from thee, and the hot Sun find thy vices. _Pho._ You are a welcom woman. _Ard._ Bless me Heaven, How did you find the way to Court? _Luci._ I know not, Would I had never trod it. _Phor._ Prethee tell me, Good noble Lady, and good sweet heart love us, For we love thee extreamly; is not this place A Paradise to live in? _Luci._ To those people That know no other Paradise but pleasure, That little I enjoy contents me better. _Ard._ What, heard ye any Musick yet? _Luci._ Too much.