TROTTER.

Why, what a blind dunce are you, can you not see? He standeth right before you.

[He thrusts Em upon her father.]

EM.

Is this my father?--Good father, give me leave to sit where I may not be disturbed, sith G.o.d hath visited me both of my sight and hearing.

MILLER.

Tell me, sweet Em, how came this blindness? Thy eyes are lovely to look on, and yet have they lost the benefit of their sight. What a grief is this to thy poor father!

EM.

Good father, let me not stand as an open gazing stock to every one, but in a place alone, as fits a creature so miserable.

MILLER.

Trotter, lead her in, the utter overthrow of poor G.o.ddards joy and only solace.

[Exit the Miller, Trotter and Em.]

MANVILLE.

Both blind and deaf! Then is she no wife for me; and glad am I so good occasion is hapned: Now will I away to Chester, and leave these gentlemen to their blind fortune.

[Exit Manville.]

MOUNTNEY.

Since fortune hath thus spitefully crost our hope, let us leave this quest and harken after our King, who is at this day landed at Lirpoole.

[Exit Mountney.]

VALINGFORD.

Go, my Lord, I'll follow you.--Well, now Mountney is gone, I'll stay behind to solicit my love; for I imagine that I shall find this but a fained invention, thereby to have us leave off our suits.

[Exit Valingford.]

SCENE V.

The Danish Court.

[Enter Marques Lubeck and the King of Denmark, angerly with some attendants.]

ZWENO K.

Well, Lubeck, well, it is not possible But you must be consenting to this act?

Is this the man so highly you extold?

And play a part so hateful with his friend?

Since first he came with thee into the court, What entertainment and what coutenance He hath received, none better knows than thou.

In recompence whereof, he quites me well To steal away fair Mariana my prisoner, Whose ransom being lately greed upon, I am deluded of by this escape.

Besides, I know not how to answer it, When she shall be demanded home to Swethia.

LUBECK.

My gracious Lord, conjecture not, I pray, Worser of Lubeck than he doth deserve: Your highness knows Mariana was my love, Sole paragon and mistress of my thoughts.

Is it likely I should know of her departure, Wherein there is no man injured more than I?

ZWENO.

That carries reason, Marques, I confess.

Call forth my daughter. Yet I am pesuaded That she, poor soul, suspected not her going: For as I hear, she likewise loved the man, Which he, to blame, did not at all regard.

[Enter Rocillio and Mariana.]

ROCILLIO.

My Lord, here is the Princess Mariana; It is your daughter is conveyed away.

ZWENO.

What, my daughter gone?

Now, Marques, your villainy breaks forth.

This match is of your making, gentle sir, And you shall dearly know the price thereof.

LUBECK.

Knew I thereof, or that there was intent In Robert thus to steal your highness daughter, Let leavens in Justice presently confound me.

ZWENO.

Not all the protestations thou canst use Shall save thy life. Away with him to prison!

And, minion, otherwise it cannot be But you are an agent in this treachery.

I will revenge it throughly on you both.

Away with her to prison! Heres stuff in deed!

My daughter stolen away!-- It booteth not thus to disturb my self, But presently to send to English William, To send me that proud knight of Windsor hither, Here in my Court to suffer for his shame, Or at my pleasure to be punished there, Withall that Blanch be sent me home again, Or I shall fetch her unto Windsors cost, Yea, and Williams too, if he deny her me.

[Exit Zweno and the rest.]

SCENE VI.

England. Camp of the Earl Demarch.

[Enter William, taken with soldiers.]

WILLIAM.

Could any cross, could any plague be worse?

Could heaven or h.e.l.l, did both conspire in one To afflict my soul, invent a greater scourge Then presently I am tormented with?

Ah, Mariana, cause of my lament, Joy of my heart, and comfort of my life!

For tho I breath my sorrows in the air And tire my self, or silently I sigh, My sorrows afficts my soul with equal pa.s.sion.

SOLDIER.

Go to, sirha, put up, it is to small purpose.

WILLIAM.

Hency, villains, hence! dare you lay your hands Upon your Soveraigne?