vers other honorable sutors,
Mounted to ride unto their severall places.

_Euph_. Of me they took their farewell yesternight.

_Mon_. What meanes your grace to be so unkind to all?
You drive away good fortune by disdaine.

_Euph_. Why are you grieving too?

_Mon_. I am your subject,
The meanest that did humbly seeke your love,
Yet not the meanest in affection;
And I am come to take my farewell too.

_Euph_. Why, then farewell.

_Mon_. So short with them that love you?

_Euph_. Your journey may be great, for ought I know;
And 'tis an argument of little love
To be the hinderer of a traveller.

_Mon_. My journey, Madame, is unto my house,
Scarce halfe a league hence, there to pine and die,
Because I love such beauteous crueltie.

_Euph_. God speede you, sir.

_Mon_. Nay then I will not leave you.
Madam, 'tis thought, and that upon good ground,
You have shrin'd your affection in the heart
Of some (whatere he be) noble or base,
And thats the cause you lightlie censure[163] all.

_Euph_. Who thinkes it?

_Mon_. I doe, Madame, and your father.

_Euph_. It is upon my vowed chastitie.

_Mon_. What devill made you sweare to chastitie,
Or have you tane that oath onely for a terme?

_Euph_. A terme, what terme?

_Mon_. A terme of some seven yeeres,
Or peradventure halfe the number more.

_Euph_. For terme of life.

_Mon_. You have sworne, to be forsworne:
He was no well disposed friend of yours
That gave you consaile [_sic_] to forsweare such beautie.
Why, 'tis as if some traveiler had found
A mine of gold, and made no use of it.
For terme of life! Why, then die presently;
So shall your debt to nature be farre lesse,
Your tyranny over man's yeelding heart
Be lesse condemned. Oh, you were made for man,
And living without man to murder men.
If any creature be so fortunate
That lives in grace of your all gracious selfe,
Though I am well perswaded 'tis not I,
I vow by all the rites of vertuous love,
Be he ignoble, of the basest sort,
To please you, Madame, Ile renounce my suite
And be a speciall meane unto your father
To grant your hearts affection, though I die.

_Euph_. Now, Lord _Montano_, you come neere my heart,
And were I sure that you would keepe your word,
As I am sure you love me by your deedes,
I might perchance deliver you my thoughts.

_Mon_. By heaven and by your beauteous selfe I will.

_Euph_. Then, _Constantine_, come forth; behold thy friend.

_Enter Constantine_.

_Con_.