ROBERT WINDSOR.
Thanks gentle Lady. Lord Marques, who is she?

LUBECK.
That same is Blanch, daughter to the King.
The substance of the shadow that you saw.

ROBERT WINDSOR.
May this be she, for whom I crost the Seas?
I am ashamed to think I was so fond.
In whom there's nothing that contents my mind:
Ill head, worse featured, uncomely, nothing courtly;
Swart and ill favoured, a Colliers sanguine skin.
I never saw a harder favoured slut.
Love her? for what? I can no whit abide her.

KIND OF DENMARK.
Mariana, I have this day received letters
From Swethia, that lets me understand
Your ransom is collecting there with speed,
And shortly shalbe hither sent to us.

MARIANA.
Not that I find occasion of mislike
My entertainment in your graces court,
But that I long to see my native home--

KING OF DENMARK.
And reason have you, Madam, for the same.
Lord Marques, I commit unto your charge
The entertainment of Sir Robert here;
Let him remain with you within the Court,
In solace and disport to spend the time.

ROBERT WINDSOR.
I thank your highness, whose bounden I remain.

[Exit King of Denmark. Blanch speaketh this secretly at one
end of the stage.]

Unhappy Blanch, what strange effects are these
That works within my thoughts confusedly?
That still, me thinks, affection draws me on,
To take, to like, nay more, to love this Knight?

ROBERT WINDSOR.
A modest countenance; no heavy sullen look;
Not very fair, but richly deckt with favour;
A sweet face, an exceeding dainty hand;
A body were it framed of wax
By all the cunning artists of the world,
It could not better be proportioned.

LUBECK.
How now, Sir Robert? in a study, man?
Here is no time for contemplation.

ROBERT WINDSOR.
My Lord, there is a certain odd conceit,
Which on the sudden greatly troubles me.

LUBECK.
How like you Blanch? I partly do perceive
The little boy hath played the wag with you.

SIR ROBERT.
The more I look the more I love to look.
Who says that Mariana is not fair?
I'll gage my gauntlet gainst the envious man
That dares avow there liveth her compare.

LUBECK.
Sir Robert, you mistake your counterfeit.
This is the Lady which you cam