Siege, The: Or, Love's Convert, A Tragi-Comedy - Act 1. Scene 2


Pyle, Elpidia.

Pyl. Three sent besides? have I so many Rivalls?
I'd thought I'd been the Phaenix of the Citty:
But men have left to judge, not I to be
What I was ever, fair, and smooth, and handsome;
Look we not bright Elpidia , and Maiestique?
Elpi. Truly sweet Mistris — —
Pyl. How, you paltry Baggage?
Sweet Mistris? when we only want the Tyrants
Approving to be Queen? call us your Grace.
Elp. Your Grace, me thinks, would make a very Queen,
But that you use to beat your servants so.
Pyl. Our Maids of Honour you do mean — —
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