hen he was innocent, is still the same,
Not blasted; is this justice? Do you mean
To intrap mortality, that you allow
Treason so smooth a brow? I cannot now
Think he is guilty.

_Bell_. Health to you my Lord;
The Princess doth commend her love, her life,
And this unto you.

_Phi_. Oh _Bellario_,
Now I perceive she loves me, she does shew it
In loving thee my boy, she has made thee brave.

_Bell_. My Lord she has attired me past my wish,
Past my desert, more fit for her attendant,
Though far unfit for me, who do attend.

_Phi_. Thou art grown courtly boy. O let all women
That love black deeds, learn to dissemble here,
Here, by this paper she does write to me,
As if her heart were Mines of Adamant
To all the world besides, but unto me,
A maiden snow that melted with my looks.
Tell me my boy how doth the Princess use thee?
For I shall guess her love to me by that.

_Bell_. Scarce like her servant, but as if I were
Something allied to her; or had preserv'd
Her life three times by my fidelity.
As mothers fond do use their only sons;
As I'de use one, that's left unto my trust,
For whom my life should pay, if he met harm,
So she does use me.

_Phi_. Why, this is wondrous well:
But what kind language does she feed thee with?

_Bell_. Why, she does tell me, she will trust my youth
With all her loving secrets; and does call me
Her pretty servant, bids me weep no more
For leaving you: shee'l see my services
Regarded; and such words of that soft strain,
That I am nearer weeping when she ends
Than ere she spake.

_Phi_. This is much better still.

_Bell_. Are you ill my Lord?

_Phi_. Ill? No _Bellario_.

_Bell_. Me thinks your words
Fall not from off your tongue so evenly,
Nor is there in your looks that quietness,
That I was wont to see.

_Phi_. Thou art deceiv'd boy:
And she stroakes thy head?

_Bell_. Ye