(SCENE 4.)

A Banquet set out, Cornets sounding; Enter at one dore Lopez, Valasco, Alanzo, No:  after them King, Cardinall, with Don Cockadillio, Bridegroome; Queene and Malateste after.  At the other dore Alba, Carlo, Roderigo, Medina and Daenia, leading Onaelia as Bride, Cornego and Iuanna after; Baltazar alone; Bride and Bridegroome kisse, and by the Cardinall are join’d hand in hand:  King is very merry, hugging Medina very lovingly.

King.  For halfe Spaines weight in Ingots I’de not lose This little man to day.

Med.  Nor for so much
Twice told, Sir, would I misse your kingly presence,
Mine eyes have lost th’acquaintance of your face
So long, and I so little late read o’re
That Index of the royall book your mind,
That scarce (without your Comment) can I tell
When in those leaves you turne o’re smiles or frownes.

King.  ’Tis dimnesse of your sight, no fault i’th letter; Medina, you shall find that free from Errata’s:  And for a proofe, If I could breath my heart in welcomes forth, This Hall should ring naught else.  Welcome, Medina; Good Marquesse Daenia, Dons of Spaine all welcome!  My dearest love and Queene, be it your place To entertaine the Bride and doe her grace.

Queen.  With all the love I can, whose fire is such, To give her heat, I cannot burne too much.

King.  Contracted Bride and Bridegroome sit; Sweet flowres not pluck’d in season lose their scent, So will our pleasures.  Father Cardinall, Methinkes this morning new begins our reigne.

Car.  Peace had her Sabbath ne’re till now in Spaine.

King.  Where is our noble Souldier, Baltazar?  So close in conference with that Signior?

No.  No.

King.  What think’st thou of this great day Baltazar?

Bal.  Of this day? why, as of a new play, if it ends well all’s well.  All men are but Actors; now if you, being the King, should be out of your part, or the Queene out of hers or your Dons out of theirs, here’s No wil never be out of his.

No.  No.

Bal.  ’Twere a lamentable peece of stuffe to see great Statesmen have vile Exits; but I hope there are nothing but plaudities in all your Eyes.

King.  Mine, I protest, are free.

Queen.  And mine, by heaven!

Mal.  Free from one goode looke till the blow be given.

King.  Wine; a full Cup crown’d to Medina’s health!

Med.  Your Highnesse this day so much honors me That I, to pay you what I truly owe, My life shall venture for it.

Daen.  So shall mine.

King. Onaelia, you are sad:  why frownes your brow?

Onae.  A foolish memory of my past ills Folds up my looke in furrowes of old care, But my heart’s merry, Sir.