_Enter_ Henrique, _and_ Violante.
_Viol_.
Is it my fault, _Don Henrique_, or my fate?
What's my offence? I came young to your bed, I had a fruitfull Mother, and you met me With equall ardour in your _May_ of blood; And why then am I barren?
_Hen_.
'Tis not in Man To yield a reason for the will of Heaven, Which is inscrutable.
_Viol_.
To what use serve Full fortunes, and the meaner sort of blessings, When that, which is the Crown of all our wishes, The period of humane happiness, One only Child that may possess what's ours, Is cruelly deni'd us?
_Hen_.
'Tis the curse Of great Estates to want those Pledges, which The poor are happy in: They in a Cottage, With joy, behold the Models of their youth, And as their Root decaies, those budding Branches Sprout forth and flourish, to renew their age; But this is the beginning, not the end Of misery to me, that 'gainst my will (Since Heaven denies us Issue of our own) Must leave the fruit of all my care and travel To an unthankfull Brother that insults On my Calamity.
_Viol_.
I will rather choose A Bastard from the Hospital and adopt him, And nourish him as mine own.
_Hen_.
Such an evasion (My _Violante_) is forbid to us; Happy the Romane State, where it was lawfull, (If our own Sons were vicious) to choose one Out of a vertuous Stock, though of poor Parents, And make him noble. But the laws of _Spain_, (Intending to preserve all ancient Houses) Prevent such free elections; with this, my Brother's Too well acquainted, and this makes him bold to Reign o're me, as a Master.
_Viol_.
I will fire The Portion I brought with me, e're he spend A Royal of it: no Quirck left? no Quiddit That may defeat him?
_Hen_.
Were I but confirmed, That you would take the means I use with patience, As I must practise it with my dishonour, I could lay level with the earth his hopes That soar above the clouds with expectation To see me in my grave.
_Viol_. Effect but this, And our revenge shall be to us a Son That shall inherit for us.
_Hen_.
Do not repent When 'tis too late.
_Viol_.
I fear not what may fall He dispossess'd that does usurp on all.
[_Exeunt_.
_Actus Secundus. Scena Prima_.
_Enter_ Leandro, (_with a letter writ out_) Milanes, _and_ Arsenio.
_Mil_.
Can any thing but wonder?
_Lea_.
Wonder on, I am as ye see, and, what will follow, Gentlemen?
_Ars_.
Why dost thou put on this form? what can this do?
Thou lookest most sillily.
_Mil_.
Like a young Clerk, A half pin'd-puppy that would write for a Royal.
Is this a commanding shape to win a beauty?
To what use, what occasion?
_Lean_.
Peace, ye are fools, More silly than my out-side seems, ye are ignorant; They that pretend to wonders must weave cunningly.
_Ars_.
What manner of access can this get? or if gotten What credit in her eyes?
_Lean_.
Will ye but leave me?
_Mil_.
Me thinks a young man and a handsom Gentleman (But sure thou art lunatick) me thinks a brave man That would catch cunningly the beams of beauty, And so distribute 'em unto his comfort, Should like himself appear, young, high, and buxom, And in the brightest form.
_Lean_.
Ye are cozen'd (Gentlemen) Neither do I believe this, nor will follow it, Thus as I am, I will begin my voyage.
When you love, lanch it out in silks and velvets, I'le love in Serge, and will outgo your Sattins.
To get upon my great horse and appear The sign of such a man, and trot my measures, Or fiddle out whole frosty nights (my friends) Under the window, while my teeth keep tune, I hold no handsomness. Let me get in, There trot and fiddle where I may have fair play.
_Ars_.
But how get in?
_Lean_.