the Dutchesse of Malfy
When she doth end her speech: and wish (in wonder)
She held it lesse vaine-glory, to talke much
Then your pennance, to heare her: whilst she speakes,
She throwes upon a man, so sweet a looke,
That it were able raise one to a Galliard
That lay in a dead palsey; and to doate
On that sweete countenance: but in that looke,
There speaketh so divine a continence,
As cuts off all lascivious, and vaine hope.
Her dayes are practis'd in such noble vertue,
That, sure her nights (nay more her very Sleepes)
Are more in Heaven, then other Ladies Shrifts.
Let all sweet Ladies, breake their flattring Glasses,
And dresse themselues in her.
Del.
Fye Antonia,
You play the wire-drawer with her commendations.
Ant.
I'll case the picture up: onely thus much,
All her particular worth, growes to this somme:
She staines the time past: lights the time to come.
Cariola.
You must attend my Lady, in the gallery,
Some halfe an houre hence.
Ant.
I shall.
Ferd.
Sister, I have a suit to you:
Duch.
To me, Sir?
Ferd.
A Gentleman here: Daniel de Bosola:
One, that was in the Gallies.
Duch.
Yes, I know him:
Ferd.
A worthy fellow h'is: pray let me entreat for
The provisorship of your horse.
Duch.
Your knowledge of him,
Commends him, and prefers him.
Ferd.
Call him heither,
Wee now upon parting: Good Lord Silvio
Do us commend to all our noble friends
At the Leagues.
Sil.
Sir, I shall.
Ferd.
You are for Millaine?
Sil.
