Digital Renaissance Editions

About this text

  • Title: Fair Em (Quarto 1, 1593)
  • Editor: Brett Greatley-Hirsch
  • ISBN:

    Copyright Digital Renaissance Editions. This text may be freely used for educational, non-profit purposes; for all other uses contact the Editor.
    Author: Anonymous
    Editor: Brett Greatley-Hirsch
    Not Peer Reviewed

    Fair Em (Quarto 1, 1593)

    of Manchester.
    Ro. Winds. Thanks gentle Ladie. Lord Marques, what is shee?
    Lubeck. That same is Blanch daughter to the King,
    The substance of the shadow that you saw.
    Rob. windsor. May this be shee, for whome I crost the Seas?
    215I am ashamde to think I was so fond.
    In whom thers nothing that contents my mynd.
    Ill head, worse featurde, vncomly, nothing courtly.
    Swart and ill fauoured, a Colliers sanguin skinne.
    I neuer sawe a harder fauourd slut.
    220Loue her? for what: I can no whit abide her.
    King of Denmark. Mariana, I haue this day receiued letters
    From Swethia, that lets me vnderstand,
    your raunsome is collecting there with speede,
    And shortly shalbe hither sent to vs.
    225Mariana. Not that I finde occasion of mislike
    My entertainment in your graces court,
    But that I long to see my natiue home.
    king Den. And reason haue you Madam for the same:
    Lord Marques I commit vnto your charge
    230The entertainement of Sir Robert here,
    Let him remaine with you within the Court
    In solace and disport, to spend the time.
    Exit king of Denmarke.
    Robert Wind. I thank your hightnes, whose bounden I remaine.
    235Blanch speaketh this secretly at one end of the stage.
    Vnhappie Blanch, what strange effects are these
    That workes within my thoughts confusedly,
    That still me thinks affection drawes me on
    To take, to like, nay more, to loue this Knight.
    240Robert. Wind. A modest countenance, no heauie sullen looke,
    Not verie fayer, but ritchly deckt with fauour:
    A sweete face, an exceding daintie hand,
    A bodie were it framed of wax
    By all the cunning artists of the world
    245It could not better be proportioned.
    Lubeck. How now Sir Robert? in a studie man?
    Here
    B