MILLER.
In sooth, daughter, now it is foorth I must needs confirm it: Maister Manville hath forsaken thee, and at Chester must be married to a mans daughter of no little wealth.
His own father procures it, and therefore I dare credit it; and do thou believe it, for trust me, daughter, it is so.
EM.
Then, good father, pardon the injury that I have done to you, only causing your grief, by over-fond affecting a man so trothless. And you likewise, sir, I pray hold me excused, a I hope this cause will allow sufficiently for me: My love to Manville, thinking he would requite it, hath made me double with my father and you, and many more besides, which I will no longer hide from you. That inticing speeches should not beguile me, I have made my self deaf to any but to him; and lest any mans person should please me more than his, I have dissembled the want of sight: Both which shadows of my irrevocable affections I have not spared to confirm before him, my father, and all other amorous soliciters--wherewith not made acquainted, I perceive my true intent hath wrought mine own sorrow, and seeking by love to be regarded, am cut of with contempt, and dispised.
MILLER.
Tell me, sweet Em, hast thou but fained all this while for his love, that hath so descourteously forsaken thee?
EM.
Credit me, father, I have told you the troth; wherewith I desire you and Lord Valingford not to be displeased. For ought else I shall say, let my present grief hold me excused.
But, may I live to see that ungrateful man justly rewarded for his treachery, poor Em would think her self not a little happy. Favour my departing at this instant; for my troubled thought desires to meditate alone in silence.
[Exit Em.]
VALINGFORD.
Will not Em shew one cheerful look on Valingford?
MILLER.
Alas, sir, blame her not; you see she hath good cause, being so handled by this gentleman: And so I"ll leave you, and go comfort my poor wench as well as I may.
[Exit the Miller.]
VALINGFORD.
Farewell, good father.
[Exit Valingford.]
ACT V.
SCENE I.
Open country in England.
[Enter Zweno, king of Denmark, with Rosilio and other attendants.]
ZWENO.
Rosilio, is this the place whereas the Duke William should meet me?
ROSILIO.
It is, and like your grace.
ZWENO.
Go, captain! Away, regard the charge I gave: See all our men be martialed for the fight.
Dispose the Wards as lately was devised; And let the prisoners under several guards Be kept apart, until you hear from us.
Let this suffise, you know my resolution.
If William, Duke of Saxons, be the man, That by his answer sent us, he would seem, Not words, but wounds: not parlays, but alarms, Must be decider of this controversy.
Rosilio, stay with me; the rest begone.
[Exeunt.]
[Enter William, and Demarch with other attendants.]
WILLIAM.
All but Demarch go shroud you out of sight; For I will go parlay with the Prince my self.
DEMARCH.
Should Zweno by this parlay call you foorth, Upon intent injuriously to deal, This offereth too much opportunity.
WILLIAM.
No, no, Demarch, That were a breach against the law of Arms: Therefore begone, and leave us here alone.
[Exeunt.]
I see that Zweno is maister of his word.
Zweno, William of Saxony greeteth thee, Either well or ill, according to thy intent.
If well thou wish to him and Saxony, He bids thee friendly welcome as he can.
If ill thou wish to him and Saxony, He must withstand thy malice as he may.
ZWENO.
William, For other name and t.i.tle give I none To him, who, were he worthy of those honours That Fortune and his predecessors left, I ought, by right and humaine courtesy, To grace his style with Duke of Saxony; But, for I find a base, degenerate mind, I frame my speech according to the man, And not the state that he unworthy holds.
WILLIAM.
Herein, Zweno, dost thou abase thy state, To break the peace which by our ancestors Hath heretofore been honourably kept.
ZWENO.
And should that peace for ever have been kept, Had not thy self been author of the breach: Nor stands it with the honor of my state, Or nature of a father to his child, That I should so be robbed of my daughter, And not unto the utmost of my power Revenge so intolerable an injury.
WILLIAM.
Is this the colour of your quarrel, Zweno?
I well perceive the wisest men may err.
And think you I conveyed away your daughter Blanch?
ZWENO.
Art thou so impudent to deny thou didst, When that the proof thereof is manifest?
WILLIAM.
What proof is there?
ZWENO.
Thine own confession is sufficient proof.
WILLIAM.
Did I confess I stole your daughter Blanch?