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  • Title: Fair Em (Quarto 2, 1631)
  • Editors: Brett Greatley-Hirsch, Kevin A. Quarmby
  • 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
    Editors: Brett Greatley-Hirsch, Kevin A. Quarmby
    Not Peer Reviewed

    Fair Em (Quarto 2, 1631)

    The Millers daughter
    Here is no time for contemplation.
    Robert Windsor. My Lord there is a certaine odd conceit,
    Which on the sudden greatly troubles me.
    250Lubeck. How like you Blaunch? I partly do perceiue
    The little boy hath played the wag with you.
    Sir Robert. The more I look the more I loue to looke.
    Who sayes that Mariana is not faire?
    Ile gage my gauntlet gainst the enuious man,
    255That dares auow there liueth her compare.
    Lubeck. Sir Robert, you mistake your counterfeit.
    This is the Lady which you came to see.
    Sir Robert. Yea my Lord: She is counterfeit in deed:
    For there is the substance that best contents me.
    260Lubek. That is my loue. Sir Robert you do wrong me.
    Robert. The better for you Sir, she is your Loue,
    As for the wrong, I see not how it growes.
    Lubeck. In seeking that which is anothers right.
    Robert. As who should say your loue were priuileged
    265That none might looke vpon her but your selfe.
    Lubeck. These iarres becomes not our familiaritie,
    Nor will I stand on termes to moue your patience.
    Robert. Why my lord, am not I of flesh & bloud as well as you?
    Then giue me leaue to loue as well as you.
    270Lubeck. To loue Sir Robert? but whome? not she I loue?
    Nor stands it with the honor of my state,
    To brooke corriuals with me in my loue.
    Robert. So Sir, we are thorough for that L.
    Ladies farewell. Lord Marques, will you go?
    275I will finde a time to speake with her I trowe?
    Lubeck. With all my heart. Come Ladies. wil you walke?Exit.
    Enter Manuile alone disguised.
    Manuile. Ah Em the subiect of my restlesse thoughts,
    The Anuyle whereupon my heart doth beat,
    280Framing thy state to thy desert,
    Full ill this life becomes thy heauenly looke,
    Wherein sweete loue and vertue sits enthroned.
    Bad