_Duke_. You have said too much, encourage none to speake
More then have spoke[n]; by my royall blood,
My mind's establisht, not to be withstood.
Those that applaud my choyse give us your hands,
And helpe to tye these sacred nuptiall bands.
_Hat_. What likes your excellence, likes me well.
_Alfred_. And I agree to what my Soveraigne please.
_Fred_. These are no brothers, they are flatterers,
Contrary to themselves in their owne speech.
You that doe love the honour of your Prince,
The care and long life of my father,
The hereditary right deriv'd to me,
Your countries Welfare, and your owne renowne,
Lend me your hands to plucke her from the throne.
_Valen_. Princes, forbeare, I doe not seeke the match;
It is his highnesse pleasure I sit here,
And if he love me 'tis no fault of mine.
Behoves me to be thankefull to his Grace,
And strive in virtue to deserve this place.
_Duke_. Thou speak'st too mildly to these hare braind youthes.
He that presumes to plucke her from the chaire
Dyes in the attempt, this sword shall end all care.
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