these,
I feare me I should softly yeeld to what
My yet condition has beene stranger to.
To love, my Lord, is to be miserable.

_Hub_. Oh to thy sweetnesse Envy would prove kind,
Tormentor humble, no pale Murderer;
And the Page of death a smiling Courtier.
_Venus_ must then, to give thee noble welcome,
Perfume her Temple with the breath of Nunnes,
Not _Vesta's_ but her owne; with Roses strow
The paths that bring thee to her blessed shrine;
Cloath all her Altares in her richest Robes
And hang her walles with stories of such loves
Have rais'd her Tryumphs; and 'bove all at last
Record this day, the happy day in which
_Bellina_ prov'd to love a Convertite.
Be mercifull and save me.

_Bellina_. You are defil'd with Seas of Christians blood,
An enemy to Heaven and which is good;
And cannot be a loving friend to me.

_Hub_. If I have sinn'd forgive me, you iust powers:
My ignorance, not cruelty has don't.
And here I vow my selfe to be hereafter
What ere _Bellina_ shall instruct me in:
For she was never made but to possesse
The highest Mansion 'mongst your Dignities,
Nor can Heaven let her erre.

_Bellina_. On that condition thus I spread my armes,
Whose chaste embraces ne're toucht man before;
And will to _Hubert_ all the favour shew
His vertuous love can covet.
I will be ever his; goe thou to Warre,
These hands shall arme thee; and Ile watch thy Tent
Till from the battaile thou bring'st victory.
In peace Ile sit by thee and read or sing
Stanzaes of chaste love, of love purifi'd
From desires drossie blacknesse; nay when our clouds
Of ignorance are quite vanisht, and that a holy
Religious knot between us may be tyed,
_Bellina_ here vowes to be _Hubert's_ bride:
Else doe I sweare perpetuall chastity.

_Hub_. Thy vowes I seale, be thou my ghostly Tutor;
And, all my actions levell'd to thy thoughts,
I am thy Creature.

_Bellina_. Let Heaven, too, but now propitious prove
And for thy soule thou hast wonne a happy love.
Come, shall we to my Father.

[_Exeunt_.

(_Soft Musick_)

(SCENE 4.)

_Enter the King on his bed, two Physitians,
Anthony Damianus and Cosmo_.

_King_. Are you Physitians?
Are you those men that proudly call your selves
The helps of Nature?

_Ant_. Oh, my good Lord, have patience.

_King_. What should I doe? lye like a patient Asse?
Feele my selfe tortur'd by this diffused poyson,
But tortur'd more by these un