forwardnes deserues reward:
It was Horatio, our knight-marshalls sonne.

EM. Betweene vs theres a price already pitcht,
And shall be send with all conuenient speed.

KING. Then once againe farewell, my lord!

EM. Farwell, my lord of Castile, and the rest!

Exit.

KING. Now, brother, you must make some little paines
To winne faire Bel-imperia from her will;
Young virgins must be ruled by their freends.
The prince is amiable, and loues her well;
If she neglect him and forgoe his loue,
She both will wrong her owne estate and ours.
Therefore, whiles I doe entertaine the prince
With greatest pleasure that our court affoords,
Endeauor you to winne your daughters thought.
If she giue back, all this will come to naught.

Exeunt.

[ACT II. SCENE 4.]

[HORATIO's garden.]

Enter HORATIO, BEL-IMPERIA, and PEDRINGANO.

HOR. Now that the night begins with sable wings
To ouer-cloud the brightnes of the sunne,
And that in darkenes pleasures may be done,
Come, Bel-imperia, let vs to the bower,
And there is safetie passe a pleasant hower.

BEL. I follow thee, my loue, and will not backe,
Although my fainting hart controles my soule.

HOR. Why, make you doubt of Pedringanos faith?

BEL. No; he is as trustie as my second selfe.
Goe, Pedringano, watch without the gate,
And let vs known if any make approach.

PED. [aside] In-steed of watching, Ile deserue more golde
By fetching Don Lorenzo to this match.

Exit PED[RINGANO].

HOR. What means my loue?

BEL. I know not what, my-selfe;
And yet my hart foretels me some some mischaunce.

HOR. Sweet, say not so; faire Fortune is our freend,
And heauens haue shut vp day to pleasure vs.
The starres, thou seest, holde back their twinckling shine
And Luna hides her-selfe to pleasure vs.

BEL. Thou hast preuailed! Ile conquer my misdoubt,
And in thy loue and councell drowne my feare.
I feare no more; loue now is all my thoughts!
Why sit we not? for pleasure asketh ease.

HOR. The more thou sitst within these leauy bowers,
The more will Flora decke it with her flowers.

BEL. I; but, if Flora spye Horatio heere,
Her iealous eye will think I sit too neere.

HOR. Harke, madame, how the birds record by nigh