thou didst this) have not decreed it so
In lasting leaves (whose smallest Characters
Were never altered:) yet, this match shall break.
Where's the boy?

_La_. Here Madam.

[ _Enter _Bellario.

_Are_. Sir, you are sad to change your service, is't not so?

_Bell_. Madam, I have not chang'd; I wait on you,
To do him service.

_Are_. Thou disclaim'st in me;
Tell me thy name.

_Bell_. _Bellario_.

_Are_. Thou canst sing, and play?

_Bell_. If grief will give me leave, Madam, I can.

_Are_. Alas! what kind of grief can thy years know?
Hadst thou a curst master, when thou went'st to School?
Thou art not capable of other grief;
Thy brows and cheeks are smooth as waters be,
When no [b]reath troubles them: believe me boy,
Care seeks out wrinkled brows, and hollow eyes,
And builds himself caves to abide in them.
Come Sir, tell me truly, does your Lord love me?

_Bell_. Love Madam? I know not what it is.

_Are_. Canst thou know grief, and never yet knew'st love?
Thou art deceiv'd boy; does he speak of me
As if he wish'd me well?

_Bell_. If it be love,
To forget all respect of his own friends,
In thinking of your face; if it be love
To sit cross arm'd and sigh away the day,
Mingled with starts, crying your name as loud
And hastily, as men i'the streets do fire:
If it be love to weep himself away,
When he but hears of any Lady dead,
Or kill'd, because it might have been your chance;
If when he goes to rest (which will not be)
'Twixt every prayer he saies, to name you once
As others drop a bead, be to be in love;
Then Madam, I dare swear he loves you.

_Are_. O y'are a cunning boy, and taught to lie,
For your Lords credit; but thou knowest, a lie,
That bears this sound, is welcomer to me,
Than any truth that saies he loves me not.
Lead the way Boy: Do you attend me too;
'Tis thy Lords business hasts me thus; Away