_Gui_. Would it were
In my weak power to help it: I will use
With my entreaties th' Authority of a Mother,
As you may of an Uncle, and enlarge it
With your command, as being a Governour
To the great King in _Lisbon.
Enter_ Duarte _and his Page_.
_Man_. Here he comes.
We are unseen, observe him.
_Dua_. Boy.
_Page_. My Lord.
_Dua_. What saith the _Spanish_ Captain that I struck,
To my bold challenge?
_Page_. He refus'd to read it.
_Dua_. Why didst not leave it there?
_Page_. I did my Lord,
But to no purpose, for he seems more willing
To sit down with the wrongs, than to repair
His honour by the sword; he knows too well,
That from your Lordship nothing can be got
But more blows, and disgraces.
_Dua_. He's a wretch,
A miserable wretch, and all my fury
Is lost upon him; holds the Mask, appointed
I'th' honour of _Hippolyta_?
_Page_. 'Tis broke off.
_Dua_. The reason?
_Page_. This was one, they heard your Lordship
Was by the Ladies choice to lead the Dance,
And therefore they, too well assur'd how far
You would outshine 'em, gave it o're and said,
They would not serve for foiles to set you off.
_Dua_.
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