ng but her fears and blushes,
Desires without desire, discourse and knowledge
Only of what her self is to her self,
Make her feel moderate health: and when she sleeps,
In making no ill day, knows no ill dreams.
Think not (dear Sir) these undivided parts,
That must mould up a Virgin, are put on
To shew her so, as borrowed ornaments,
To speak her perfect love to you, or add
An Artificial shadow to her nature:
No Sir; I boldly dare proclaim her, yet
No Woman. But woo her still, and think her modesty
A sweeter mistress than the offer'd Language
Of any Dame, were she a Queen whose eye
Speaks common loves and comforts to her servants.
Last, noble son, (for so I now must call you)
What I have done thus publick, is not only
To add a comfort in particular
To you or me, but all; and to confirm
The Nobles, and the Gentry of these Kingdoms,
By oath to your succession, which shall be
Within this month at most.

_Thra_. This will be hardly done.

_Cle_. It must be ill done, if it be done.

_Di_. When 'tis at best, 'twill be but half done,
Whilst so brave a Gentleman's wrong'd and flung off.

_Thra_. I fear.

_Cle_. Who does not?

_Di_. I fear not for my self, and yet I fear too:
Well, we shall see, we shall see: no more.

_Pha_. Kissing your white hand (Mistress) I take leave,
To thank your Royal Father: and thus far,
To be my own free Trumpet. Understand
Great King, and these your subjects, mine that must be,
(For so deserving you have spoke me Sir,
And so deserving I dare speak my self)
To what a person, of what eminence,
Ripe expectation of what faculties,
Manners and vertues you would wed your Kingdoms?
You in me have your wishes. Oh this Country,
By more than all my hopes I hold it
Happy, in their dear memories that have been
Kings great and good, happy in yours, that is,
And from you (as a Chronicle to keep