mine, and still preferre
(Above all these) the honour of my house:
Come, therefore, no words, but performe my charge.

_Cor_. If you will have it so I must consent.

[_Exeunt_.

[SCENE 2.]

_Enter Alberdure, Hyanthe, Leander and Moth_.

_Alber_. My deere _Hyanthe_, my content, my life,
Let no new fancie change thee from my love;
And for my rivall (whom I must not wrong,
Because he is my father and my Prince)
Give thou him honour but give me thy love.
O that my rivall bound me not in dutie
To favour him, then could I tell _Hyanthe_
That he alreadie (with importun'd suite)
Hath to the _Brunswick_ Dutchesse vow'd himselfe,
That his desires are carelesse and his thoughts
Too fickle and imperious for love:
But I am silent, dutie ties my tongue.

_Hya_. Why? thinks my joy, my princely _Alderbure_,
_Hyanthes_ faith stands on so weake a ground,
That it will fall or bend with everie winde?
No stormes or lingring miseries shall shake it,
Much lesse vaine titles of commaunding love.

_Moth_. Madam, dispatch him then, rid him out of this earthlie
purgatorie; for I have such a coile with him a nights, grunting and
groaning in his sleepe, with "O, _Hyanthe_! my deare _Hyanthe_! And
then hee throbs me in his armes, as if he had gotten a great Jewell
by the eare.

_Alber_. Away, you wag.--And tell me now, my love,
What is the cause Earle _Cassimere_ (your father)
Hath been so long importunate with me
To visit _Flores_ the brave Jeweller?

_Hyan_. My father doth so dote on him, my Lord,
That he thinkes he doth honour every man
Whom he acquaints with his perfections.
Therefore (in any wise) prepare your selfe
To grace and sooth his great conceit of him;
For everie jesture, everie word he speakes,
Seemes to my father admirablie good.

_Lean_. Indeed, my Lord, his high conceipt of him
Is more then any man alive deserves.
He thinkes the Jeweller made all of Jewels,
Who, though he be a man of gallant spirit,
Faire spoken and well furnisht with good parts,
Yet not so peerleslie to be admir'd.

_Enter Cassimere_.

_Cass_. Come, shall we go (my Lord); I dare assure you
You shall beholde so excellent a man,
For his behaviour, for his sweete discourse,
His sight in Musick and in heavenlie Arts,
Besides the cunning judgement of his eie
In the rare secrets of all precious Jemmes,
That you will sorrow you have staide so long.

_Alber_. Alas, whie would not then your