But why have you drawn me to this solitary place?  Let me die, but I am apprehensive of some violence from you.—­Then says he, Solitude, madam, is most fit for lovers; but by this fair hand—­Nay, now I vow you’re rude, sir.  O fy, fy, fy; I hope you’ll be honourable?—­You’d laugh at me if I should, madam.—­What, do you mean to throw me down thus?  Ah me! ah! ah! ah!

  Enter POLYDAMAS, LEONIDAS, and Guards.

O Venus! the king and court.  Let me die, but I fear they have found my foible, and will turn me into ridicule. [Exit, running.

Leon. Sir, I beseech you.

Poly. Do not urge my patience.

Leon. I’ll not deny,
But what your spies informed you of is true: 
I love the fair Palmyra; but I loved her
Before I knew your title to my blood.

  Enter PALMYRA guarded.

See, here she comes, and looks, amidst her guards,
Like a weak dove under the falcon’s gripe. 
O heaven, I cannot bear it.

Poly. Maid, come hither. 
Have you presumed so far, as to receive
My son’s affections?

Palm. Alas, what shall I answer?  To confess it Will raise a blush upon a virgin’s face; Yet I was ever taught ’twas base to lie.

Poly. You’ve been too bold, and you must love no more.

Palm. Indeed I must; I cannot help my love; I was so tender when I took the bent, That now I grow that way.

Poly. He is a prince, and you are meanly born.

Leon. Love either finds equality, or makes it:  Like death, he knows no difference in degrees, But plains, and levels all.

Palm. Alas!  I had not rendered up my heart,
Had he not loved me first; but he preferred me
Above the maidens of my age and rank,—­
Still shunned their company, and still sought mine. 
I was not won by gifts, yet still he gave;
And all his gifts, though small, yet spoke his love. 
He picked the earliest strawberries in woods,
The clustered filberds, and the purple grapes;
He taught a prating stare to speak my name;
And, when he found a nest of nightingales,
Or callow linnets, he would show them me,
And let me take them out.

Poly. This is a little mistress, meanly born,
Fit only for a prince’s vacant hours,
And then, to laugh at her simplicity,
Not fix a passion there.  Now hear my sentence.

Leon. Remember, ere you give it, ’tis pronounced Against us both.

Poly. First, in her hand
There shall be placed a player’s painted sceptre,
And, on her head, a gilded pageant crown: 
Thus shall she go,
With all the boys attending on her triumph;
That done, be put alone into a boat,
With bread and water only for three days;
So on the sea she shall be set adrift,
And who relieves her dies.