I heare some Musique:  O ye Deities,
Send you this heavenly consort[178] from the spheares
To recreate a love-perplexed heart? 
The more it sounds, the more it refresheth. 
I see no instruments, nor hands that play;
And my deare brothers, durst not be so bold. 
’Tis some celestiall rapture of the minde,
No earthlie harmonic is of this kinde. 
Now it doth cease:  speake, who comes there?

    Enter Fredericke, Alfred, and Hatto.

Fred.  Father.

Duke.  From whence proceeds the Musicke that I heard?

Fred.  The beauteous and the famous Curtezan,
Allyed unto the banished Montano,
Admir’d Valentia, with a troope of youths
This day doth keepe her yeerely festivall
To all her suters, and this way she past
Unto her Arbor, when the Musique plaide.

Duke.  Admir’d Valentia!  Curtezans are strange
With us in Germanie; except her selfe,
Being a Venetian borne and priviledg’d,
The state allowes none here.

Fred.  Twere good for Meath She were unpriviledgd and sent to Venice.

Al.  Of all the faces that mine eye beheld Hers is the brightest.

Duke.  Is she then so faire?

Hat.  O beyond all comparison of beautie.

Fred.  Upon her hand, Father, I saw the fellow to your glove.

Duke.  Then let it be restor’d. 
What, should a Prince retaine a strumpets glove?—­
O ye eternall powers, am I insnar’d
With the affection of a common trull!—­
Wheres your commissions, that you would have sign’d? 
’Tis time I had a president in Saxonie. 
Receive our signet, and impresse them straight;
Ile remaine here, in Meath, some little time. 
Brother, have care my Dukedome be well rul’d;
Here I put over my affaires to you. 
My sonne I leave unto the joyes of youth;
Tis pittie that his minde should be opprest
So soone with care of governments. 
Goe to your pleasures, seeke your sister foorth,
Send Constantine to us; so leave me all,
I am best accompanied with none at all. [Exeunt.
                                        Manet Duke. 
Either the Plannets, that did meete together
In the grand consultation of my birth,
Were opposite to every good infusion,
Or onely Venus stood as retrograde;
For, but in love of this none-loving trull,
I have beene fortunate even since my birth. 
I feele within my breast a searching fire
Which doth ascend the engine of my braine,
And when I seeke by reason to suppresse
The heate it gives, the greaters the excesse. 
I loath to looke upon a common lip
Were it as corral as Aurora’s cheeke
Died with the faire virmillion [of the] sunne. 
O but I love her, and they say she is faire.—­
Now Constantine.