The tragedy of Albertus VVallenstein late Duke of Fridland, and generall to the Emperor Ferdinand the second. Written by Henry Glapthorne. The scene, Egers. And acted with good allowance at the Globe on the Banke-side, by his Majesties Servants.

Scena secunda, Frederick, Albertus, Newman.

Newm.

Pish, perish still in ignorance, am I, Who am grand master in the art of Love, Not able to instruct a limber youth Of the first growth, your brother here makes love In all ill favor'd tone, and skrewes his countenance, As he were singing of lamentable Ballads Of Tillies overthrow, but you for your part, (I've knowne you of an urchin) are so fiery, You speake all squibs and crackers, carry a Canon In your mouth, you'l fright the Lady, she'l imagine

You come to ravish her.

Albert.

The Colonell Tells you, your owne, good brother.

New.

I've told you yours too, or I'm much mistaken, You love, 'tshould seeme, the faire Emilia, A pretty wench, they say, but that's no matter, Your fathers are agreed on't, and you'd have me Shew you the readiest way, how to accost her Negatively, I will demonstrate instantly.

Fred.

I shall observe your doctrine most exactly.

Newm.

Pray observe, You must not then accost her with a shrug, As you were lowzie, with your Lady, sweet Lady, Or most super-excellent Lady, Nor in the Spanish garbe, with a state face, As you had new been eating of a Raddish, And meant to swallow her for mutton to't: Nor let your words, as that I'm most afraid of, ('Cause 'tis your naturall mood) come rumbling forth, Usher'd with a good full-mouth'd oath, I love you: But speake the language of an overcomming Lover; I doe not meane that strange pedanticke phrase, Us'd by some gallants, who doe aime at wit, And make themselves starke asses by't, praise their mistresses Byth' Sun and stars, while the poore girles imagine, They meane their signes, their Mercers or Perfumers Inhabit at (for sure beyond those Planets They've studied no Astrologie) but you must In gentle, free, and genuine phrase deliver Your true affection, praise her eye, her lip, Her nose, her cheeke, her chin, her neck, her brest, Her hand, her foot, her leg, her every thing, And leave your roses and your lillies for Your country froes, to make nosegayes of: But stay, here comes your Mistris, her father too, In conference; fall on my Mirmidon,

While we retreat.

Int. Waymar, Emilia.

Alber.

Speed your endevors, brother.

Ex. Newm. Alber

Waym.

'Tis so concluded 'twixt me and her father, For both our goods, be not you nice Emilia, The noble youth's so furnish'd with all worth, You needs must like him.

Emilia.

Good sir give me license, To let my eye direct my heart to love, And if young Fredericke be the master of Such absolute gifts, doubt not but I shall find them.

Waym.

My Lord I'm glad Of this faire interview I and my daughter Were even conferring of you; sir as yet She's something timorous, dreads a Souldiers lookes.

Fred.

She needs not sir. She beares a spell about her that would charme A Scythians native fiercenesse into softnesse, Those spirit-breathing eyes, my Lord, which can Kill as they please, or quicken with a glance.

Waym.

Now they are enter'd, Ile steale away and leave them.

Fred.

Gentle Lady, To make the addresses of my love-sicke heart, Plaine and apparent to you, that you may, Search through my soule, and find it all your creature, Give me your patient hearing.

Emil.

'Tis a request, Might tax my manners, should I deny it to One of your noble quality; use your pleasure.

Fred.

Which consists In viewing your bright beauty, the idea Of all perfections, which the jealous heavens Durst ever lend to earth-divinest Lady, The gentle ayre which circumscribes your cheeke, Leaving its panting kisses on the flowres, That in that Tempe blossome, does not love

Those fields of purity more then mine eyes do, Mine, Lady, is a holy, An intellectual zeale, such as the Angels And Saints, who know no sexes do affect by, Past imitation too, should they who strive To trace me, take the constancy of Swans, Or never-changing Turtles, as their patternes.

Emilia.

Sir, it seemes You've studied complement as well as Armes, But he's a foolish Lover, who to gaine His Mistris, dare not promise what you have utter'd, but I must Have more then verball assurance of your love.

Fred.

By your faire selfe I'm reall, do intend, What I've deliver'd with as much true zeale, As Anchorits do their prayers: I love your minde, Your excellent minde, and for its sake, the pure Shrine, which containes that blessing, this fair building, This pallace of all happinesse, and intreat you, As you have mercy in you, to take pitty Upon my loves stern sufferings, and redresse them, By your consent to take me for your husband.

Emilia.

Sir you are an over-hasty Lover, to imagine I can at first sight of your person, be Surpriz'd and yeeld, they must be strong allurements, Must tempt a bashfull Virgin still inur'd To no companion but her feares and blushes, To give her heart away, and live in thraldome, Unto a stranger.

Fred.

Love, Madam, has Eagles eyes; it can beget acquaintance, Even in a moment, suddenly as time, The time that does succeed it. Farewell. I will not have my over-hasty zeale, Urge your mild sufferance further, pray think on me As one who've plaid my full extent of blisse, In your injoying, think you are the land wracke, By which the brittle vessell of my hopes,

Must through Loves-swelling Ocean be directed, To a safe harbor, honour me to kisse Your faire hand; Lady now farewell, no blisse Can be in love, till we know what it is.

Exeunt.