Hen. This act of confidence Binds me for ever to Fernando: come, Halfe of my soule, for we two must not bee In life devided. Though the Citty lye At mercy of the Enemy, yet from Don Pedro Gusman's house not all mankind Shall take thee from me.

Enter Buzzano and Spanyards flying.

Buz. They come, they come, they come!

Fer. Committing this my Jewell to your trust I must unto my charge: my blessing!

Ele. Oh doe not leave me, sir; for without you What safety can I have? you are my father: Pray, stay you with me.

Fer. Oh, my Girle, I cannot, Dare not be so unfaithfull to the trust His maiesty put me in, though I would stay.

Ele. I feare if you goe hence all will not long be well.

Hen. Distrust you me, Eleonora?

Ele. No, indeed: You ever had with me th'opinion Of a most noble gentleman.

Fer. What then?

Ele. I know not what besides my feare; and that Beggs I may share your fortune, since you may not Take up such safety here as I have.

Fer. Come,
You are to blame: this heaven that now lookes on us
With rugged brow may quickly smile againe
And then I shall revisite my Eleonora.
So, farewell. [Exit.

Hen. Till then with greater care then were the Dragons
Supposd to watch the Golden Apples growing
In the Hesperides, shall Henrico wayte
On his best loved. Oh, my Eleonora,
I would to heaven there were no war but here
To shoote love darts! each smile from this fayre Eye
May take an Army prisoners: let me give
My life up here unto these lipps, and yet
I shall, by the sweetnes of a kisse, take back
The same againe. Oh thou in whom alone
Vertue hath perfect figure, hide not day
In such a Cloud: what feare hath enterd here?
My life is twisted in a Thread with thine;
Were't not defenced, there could nothing come
To make this cheeke looke pale, which at your Eye
Will not fall dead before you.—

Enter Buzzano.

Sirra, let all your care and duty bee
Employed to cheere this Lady: pray, be merry.

Buz. Oh, sir, yonders such doings.

Hen. Hell on your bawling! not a sillable to affright her, or I shall tune your instrument there.

Buz. Hele breake the head of my instrument! Why, sir, weomen are not affraid to heare of doings.

Hen. Still jarring?

Buz. When the whole towne is altogether by th'eares you might give me leave to jar a little my selfe:—I have done, sir.

Hen. Putt on thy merryest face, Buzzano.

Buz. I have but one face, but I can make a great many.

Hen. My best Eleonora, I shall soone returne: In the meane time be owner of this house, The possesour. All danger, sweet, shall dwell Far off: Ile but enquire the state of things In the Citty, and fly back to thee with loves wings. [Exit.

Ele. I prithee call him backe.

Buz. Signior Henrico, She has something more to say to you. [Redit.

Hen. To me, sweetest?

Ele. Henrico, doe you love me?

Hen. By this faire hand.

Ele. And will you leave me, too?

Hen. Not for the wealth of Spaine.

Ele. Since I must be your prisoner let me have
My keepers company, for I am afraid
Some enemy in your absence, like a woolfe
May ceize on me. I know not whither now
I ere shall see my father: doe not you
Ravish yourselfe from me, for at the worst
We may dye here, Henrico; and I had rather
Fall in your eye than in your absence be
Dishonord; if the destinyes have not
Spun out a longer thread, lets dye together.

Hen. Oh doe not racke my soule with these sad accents.
Am I Henrico? there is not any place
Can promise such security as this
To Eleonora. Doe not talke of dying,
Our best dayes are to come: putt on thy quiet,
And be above the reach of a misfortune.
Ile presently wayte on thee, by this kisse.

Buz. Would I might keepe your oath: so please you, lady, Buzzano will sweare too.

Hen. What?

Buz. That you'le be there and here agen presently.

Hen. Attend here, sirra.

Buz. If you must needes goe, pray, sir, keepe yourselfe out of Gun-shott.

Hen. Mind you your charge.

Buz. You shall heare a good report of my piece, I warrant you. Take heed you be not sent to heaven with a powder: a company of hott shotts[15] are abroad, I can tell you.

Ele. If you will goe may your successe be faire.

Hen. Farewell; heaven cannot chuse but heare your prayer. [Exit.

Buz. Now what please you, madam? that I shall amble, trott, or walke?

Ele. Any pace.

Buz. Yet, if you would referre it to me, I'de use none of them.

Ele. What wouldst doe?

Buz. Why I would gallop or run, for I think long till I be at home in our Castle of comfort. If it please you Ile lead you a hand gallop in the plaine ground, trott up hill with you & racke[16] downewards.

Ele. Talke not of rackes, prithee; the times present too many.

Buz. Ride me as you will, then; I am used both to curbe and snaffle.

Ele. I prithee tell me, Buzzano,—so, I heare thy master call thee—

Buz. He may call me at his pleasure, forsooth.

Ele. Dost thou know the nature of the English?

Buz. Both men and women: I travelled thither with an Embassadour. For the men Ile not misse you a haire of their condition; and for the women I know 'em as well as if I had bene in their bellyes.

Ele. Are they not cruell?

Buz. As Tygers, when they set on't: no mercy unlesse we aske them forgiveness.

Ele. That's somewhat yet.

Buz. But not to you; that's onely to men; for lett the women fall downe afore 'em never so often they'le rather fall upon them. Nay, some of them are so spitefull they'le breake their owne backes before they let 'em rise againe.

Ele. Foole, I meane not your way.

Buz. Keepe your owne way, madam; I meane the playne way.

Ele. Are they not unmercifull in their natures to such as are in their power, their Enemyes as we may be?

Buz. Their enemyes as we may be in their power! I had rather be cramm'd into a cannon and shott against their ships then you should prove a witch & tell true now. The Tartar is not halfe so grim; not a Turke would use us so like Jewes as they