Volume Iii Part 17 (1/2)
_Friend_. Lady, I am a Soldier--yet in my gentlest Terms I humbly beg to kiss your lovely Hands-- Death! there's Magick in the Touch.
By Heaven, you carry an Artillery in every part.
_Dia_. This is a Man indeed fit for my purpose. [_Aside_.
_Friend_. Nay, do not view me, I am no lovely Object; I am a Man bred up to Noise and War, And know not how to dress my Looks in Smiles; Yet trust me, fair one, I can love and serve As well as an _Endymion_, or _Adonis_.
Wou'd you were willing to permit that Service!
_Dia_. Why, Sir?--What cou'd you do?
_Friend_. Why--I cou'd die for you.
_Dia_. I need the Service of the living, Sir.
But do you love me, Sir?
_Friend_. Or let me perish, flying from a single Enemy.
I am a Gentleman, and may pretend to love you; And what you can command, I can perform.
_Dia_. Take heed, Sir, what you say, for I'm in earnest.
_Friend_. Command me any thing that's just and brave; And, by my Eyes, 'tis done.
_Dia_. I know not what you call just or brave; But those whom I do the Honour to command, Must not capitulate.
_Friend_. Let him be blasted with the Name of Coward, That dares dispute your Orders.
_Dia_. Dare you fight for me?
_Friend_. With a whole Army; 'tis my Trade to fight.
_Dia_. Nay, 'tis but a single Man.
_Friend_. Name him.
_Dia_. _Bellmour_.
_Friend_. Of _Yorks.h.i.+re_? Companion to young _Friendlove_, that came lately from _Italy_?
_Dia_. Yes, do you know him?
_Friend_. I do, who has oft spoke of _Bellmour_; We travel'd into _Italy_ together--But since, I hear, He fell in love with a fair cruel Maid, For whom he languishes.
_Dia_. Heard you her Name?
_Friend_. _Diana_, rich in Beauty, as in Fortune.
--Wou'd she had less of both, and more of Pity; And that I knew not how to wish, till now That I became a Lover, perhaps as unsuccessful. [_Aside_.
_Dia_. I knew my Beauty had a thousand Darts, But knew not they cou'd strike so quick and home. [_Aside_.
Let your good Wishes for your Friend alone, Lest he being happy, you shou'd be undone.