Etner BALTHAZAR and BEL-IMPERIA.

BAL. Come, Bel-imperia, Balthazars content,
My sorrowes ease, and soueraigne of my blisse,--
Sith heauen hath [thee ordainded] to be mine,
Disperce those cloudes and melanchollie lookes,
And cleere them vp with those thy sunne-bright eies,
Wherein my hope and heauens faire beautie lies!

BEL. My lookes, my lord, are fitting for my loue,
Which, new begun, can shew no brighter yet.

BAL. New kindled flames should burne as morning sun.

BEL. But not too fast, least heate and all be done.
I see my lord my father.

BAL. True, my loue;
I will goe salute him.

CAS. Welcome, Balthazar,
Welcome, braue prince, the pledge of Castiles peace!
And welcome Bel-imperia! How now, girle?
Why commest thou sadly to salute vs thus?
Content thy-selfe, for I am satisfied.
It is not now as when Andrea liu'd;
We haue forgotten and forgiuen that,
And thou art graced with a happeir loue.
But, Balthazar, heere comes Hieronimo;
Ile haue a word with him.

Enter HIERONIMO and a SERUANT.

HIERO. And wheres the duke?

SER. Yonder.

HIERO. Euen so.
[aside] What new deuice haue they deuised, tro?
Pocas palabras! Milde as the lambe!
Ist I will be reueng'd? No, I am not the man.

CAS. Welcome, Hieronimo!

LOR. Welcome, Hieronimo!

BAL. Welcome, Hieronimo!

HIERO. My lords, I thank you for Horatio.

CAS. Hieronimo, the reason that I sent
To speak with you is this--

HIERO. What? so short?
Then Ile be gone; I thank you fort!

CAS. Nay, stay, Hieronimo; goe call him, sonne.

LOR. Hieronimo, my father craues a word with you.

HIERO. With me, sir? Why, my l[ord], I thought you
had done.

LOR. [aside] No; would he had!

CAS. Hieronimo, I hear
You finde your-selfe agreeued at my sonne,
Because you haue not accesse vnto the king,
And say tis he that intercepts your sutes.

HIERO. Why, is not this a miserable thing, my lord?

CAS. Hieronimo, I hope you haue no cause,
And would be loth that one of your deserts,
Should once haue reason to suspect my sonne,
Considering how I think of you my-selfe.

HIERO. Your sonne Lorenzo? whome, my noble lord?
The hope of Spaine? mine h