The Spanish Tragedie.
Ped. In stead of watching, Ile deserue more gold,
Exit Ped.By fetching Don Lorenzo to this match.
Exit Ped.By fetching Don Lorenzo to this match.
Hor. What means my loue?
Bel. I know not what my selfe:
And yet my heart foretels me some mischance.
And yet my heart foretels me some mischance.
Hor. Sweet, say not so: faire Fortune is our friend,
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.
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 preuailde, Ile conquer my misdoubt:
And in thy loue and counsell drowne my feare:
I feare no more, loue now is all my thoughts.
Why sit we not, for pleasure asketh ease.
And in thy loue and counsell 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 leauie bowers,
The more will Flora decke it with her flowers.
The more will Flora decke it with her flowers.
Bel. I but if Flora spie Horatio heere,
Her ielous eye, will thinke I sit too neere.
Her ielous eye, will thinke I sit too neere.
Hor. Harke Madame, how the birds record by night,
For ioy that Bel-imperia sits in sight.
For ioy that Bel-imperia sits in sight.
Bel. No, Cupid counterfeits the Nightingale,
To frame sweet musick to Horatios tale.
To frame sweet musick to Horatios tale.
Hor. If Cupid sing, then Venus is not farre,
I, thou art Venus, or some fairer starre,
I, thou art Venus, or some fairer starre,
Bel. If I be Venus, thou must needes be Mars,
And where Mars raigneth there must needes be warre.
And where Mars raigneth there must needes be warre.
Hor. Then thus beginne our warres, put forth thy hand,
That it may combate with my ruder hand.
That it may combate with my ruder hand.
Bel. Set forth thy foote to trie the push of mine.
Hor. But first my lookes shall combate against thine.
Bel. Then ward thy selfe, I dart this kisse at thee.
Hor. Thus, I retort the dart thou threwest at me.
Bel. Nay, then to gaine the glory of the field,
My twinning armes shall yoke and make thee yeeld.
My twinning armes shall yoke and make thee yeeld.
Hor. Nay, then my armes are large and strong withall:
Thus Elmes by vines are compast till they fall.
Thus Elmes by vines are compast till they fall.
Bel. O let me goe, for in my troubled eyes,
Now mayest thou read that life in passion dies.
Now mayest thou read that life in passion dies.
Hor.
