life with me? 
      A man forsaken? all my hospitality
      Is now contracted to a few; these two,
      The tempest-wearied Souldier, and this Virgin;
      We cannot feast your eyes with Masques and Revels,
      Or Courtly Anticks; the sad Sports we riot in,
      Are tales of foughten fields, of Martial scars,
      And things done long ago, when men of courage
      Were held the best, not those well-spoken Youths,
      Who only carry Conquest in their tongues: 
      Now stories of this nature are unseasonable
      To entertain a great Duke’s Son with.

Fernando: 

      Herein
      Shall my Captivity be made my happiness,
      Since what I lose in freedom, I regain
      (With int’rest) by conversing with a Souldier,
      So matchless for experience, as great Cassilane: 
      ’Pray Sir, admit me.

Cassilanes: 

      If you, come to mock me,
      I shall be angry.

Fernando: 

      By the love I bear
      To goodness, my intents are honourable.

Cassilanes: 

      Then in a word, my Lord, your visitations
      Shall find all due respect:  but I am now
      Grown old, and have forgot to be an Host;
      Come when you please, you are welcome.

Fernando: 

      Sir, I thank you.

Annophel: 

      Good Sir, be not too urgent; for my Father
268] Will soon be mov’d:  yet, in a noble way
      Of courtesie, he is as easily conquer’d.

Fernando: 

      Lady, your words are like your beauty, powerful;
      I shall not strive more how to do him service
      Than how to be your servant.

Cassilanes: 

      She’s my Daughter,
      And does command this House.

Fernando: 

      So I conceive her.

Cassilanes: 

      Do you hear?

Gaspero: 

      My honour’d Lord.

Cassilanes: 

      Commend me to them: 
      Tell ’em I thank them.

Gaspero: 

      Whom, my Lord?

Cassilanes: 

      The Senate;
      Why, how come you so dull?  O they are gracious,
      And infinitely grateful—­Thou art eloquent,
      Speak modestly in mentioning my services;
      And if ought fall out in the By, that must
      Of meer necessity touch any act
      Of my deserving praises, blush when you talk on’t,
      Twill make them blush to hear on’t.

Gaspero: 

      Why, my Lord—­

Cassilanes: 

      Nay, nay, you are too wise now; good, observe me. 
      I do not rail against the hopeful Springall,
      That builds up Monuments in Brass; rears Trophies
      With Mottoes and Inscriptions, quaint devices
      Of Poetry and Fiction; let’s be quiet.