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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    Not Peer Reviewed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)

    of Manchester.
    Ro. Winds. Thanks gentle Ladie. Lord Marques, what is she?
    Lubeck. That same is Blanch daughter to the King,
    The substance of the shadow that you saw.
    Rob. Windsor. May this be shee, for whom I crost the Seas?
    215I am asham'd to think I was so fond,
    In whom there's nothing that contents my minde,
    Ill head, worse featurde, vncomly, nothing courtly,
    Swart and ill fauoured, a Colliers sanguine skin.
    I neuer saw a harder fauour'd Slut.
    220Loue her? for what? I can no whit abide her.
    King of Denmarke. Mariana, I haue this day receiued letters
    From Swethia, that lets me vnderstand,
    Your ransome is collecting there with speed,
    And shortly shall be 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 thinkes 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 faire, but richly deckt with fauour:
    A sweet face, an exceding daintie hand:
    A body 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