Philaster, or Love Lies a-Bleeding Philaster or Love Lies a-Bleeding EMOTHE0419

Texto utilizado para esta edición digital:
Beaumont, Francis, and John Fletcher. Philaster, or Love Lies a-Bleeding. In: Brooke, C. F. T.; Paradise, N. B. (ed.) English Drama 1580-1642. Boston: D. C. Heath and Company, 1933.

Adaptación digital para EMOTHE:

Tronch Pérez, Jesus

Note on this digital edition

For this digital edition, names of characters have been expanded in speech prefixes and stage directions. Line numbers may not coincide with those in the source text.

With the support of research project GVAICO2016-094, funded by Generalitat Valenciana (2016-2017).

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THE ACTORS' NAMES

KING of Sicily [and Calabria]

PHILASTER, Heir to the Crown [of Sicily]

PHARAMOND, a Spanish Prince

DION, a Lord

CLEREMONT, }

THRASILINE, } Noble Gentlemen, his Associates

ARETHUSA, the King's Daughter

EUPHRASIA, Daughter of Dion, but disguised like a page and called Bellario

GALATEA, a wise modest Lady attending the Princess

MEGRA, a lascivious Lady

An old Captain

five Citizens

a Country Fellow

two Woodmen

the King's Guard and Train

Messenger

two Ladies

SCENE: Sicily. The Court and a neighboring Forest

Actus Primus

Scena Prima

[The Palace.]

Enter Dion, Cleremont, and Thrasiline

Cleremont

Here's nor lords nor ladies.

Dion

Credit me, gentlemen, I wonder at it. They receiv'd strict charge from the King to attend here; besides, it was boldly published

that no officer should forbid any gentleman that desired to attend and hear.

Cleremont

Can you guess the cause?

Dion

Sir, it is plain, about the Spanish Prince that's come to marry our kingdom's heir and

be our sovereign.

Thrasiline

Many that will seem to know much say she looks not on him like a maid in love.

Dion

Faith, sir, the multitude, that seldom know anything but their own opinions, speak

that they would have; but the prince, before his own approach, receiv'd so many confident messages from the state, that I think she's resolv'd to be rul'd.

Cleremont

Sir, it is thought, with her he shall enjoy

both these kingdoms of Sicily and Calabria.

Dion

Sir, it is without controversy so meant. But 't will be a troublesome labour for him to enjoy both these kingdoms with safety, the right heir to one of them living, and living

so virtuously: especially, the people admiring the bravery of his mind and lamenting his injuries.

Cleremont

Who? Philaster?

Dion

Yes; whose father, we all know, was

by our late King of Calabria unrighteously deposed from his fruitful Sicily. Myself drew some blood in those wars, which I would give my hand to be washed from.

Cleremont

Sir, my ignorance in state-policy will not

let me know why, Philaster being heir to one of these kingdoms, the King should suffer him to walk abroad with such free liberty.

Dion

Sir, it seems your nature is more constant than to inquire after state-news. But the

King, of late, made a hazard of both the kingdoms, of Sicily and his own, with offering but to imprison Philaster; at which the city was in arms, not to be charm'd down by any state-order, or proclamation, till they saw

Philaster ride through the streets pleas'd and without a guard; at which they threw their hats and their arms from them; some to make bonfires, some to drink, all for his deliverance: which wise men say is the cause the King labours

to bring in the power of a foreign nation to awe his own with.

Enter Galatea, Megra, and a Lady

Thrasiline

See, the ladies! What's the first?

Dion

A wise and modest gentlewoman that attends the princess.

Cleremont

The second?

Dion

She is one that may stand still discreetly enough and ill-favour'dly dance her measure; simper when she is courted by her friend, and slight her husband.

Cleremont

The last?

Dion

Faith, I think she is one whom the state keeps for the agents of our confederate princess; she'll cog and lie with a whole army, before the league shall break. Her name is

common through the kingdom, and the trophies of her dishonour advanced beyond Hercules' Pillars. She loves to try the several constitutions of men's bodies; and, indeed, has destroyed the worth of her own body by making

experiment upon it for the good of the commonwealth.

Cleremont

She's a profitable member.

Lady

Peace, if you love me! You shall see these gentlemen stand their ground and not court us.

Galatea

What if they should?

Megra

What if they should!

Lady

Nay, let her alone. – What if they should! What, if they should, I say they were never abroad. What foreigner would do so? It writes them directly untravell'd.

Galatea

Why, what if they be?

Megra

What if they be!

Lady

Good madam, let her go on. – What if they be! Why, if they be, I will justify, they cannot maintain discourse with a judicious

lady, nor make a leg nor say "Excuse me."

Galatea

Ha, ha, ha!

Lady

Do you laugh, madam?

Dion

You desires upon you, ladies!

Lady

Then you must sit beside us.

Dion

I shall sit near you then, lady.

Lady

Near me, perhaps; but there's a lady endures no stranger; and to me you appear a very strange fellow.

Megra

Methinks he's not so strange; he

would quickly be acquainted.

Thrasiline

Peace, the King!

Enter King, Pharamond, Arethusa, and Train

King

To give a stronger testimony of love

Than sickly promises (which commonly

In princes find both birth and burial

100

In one breath) we have drawn you, worthy sir,

To make your fair endearments to our daughter

And worthy services known to our subjects,

Now lov'd and wondered at; next, our intent

To plant you deeply our immediate heir

105

Both to our blood and kingdoms. For this lady,

(The best part of your life, as you confirm me,

And I believe,) though her few years and sex

Yet teach her nothing but her fears and blushes,

Desires without desire, discourse and knowledge

110

Only of what herself is to herself,

Make her feel moderate health; and when she sleeps,

In making no ill day, knows no ill dreams.

Think not, dear sir, these undivided parts,

That must mould up a virgin, are put on

115

To show her so, as borrow'd ornaments

To speak her perfect love to you, or add

An artificial shadow to her nature, –

No, sir; I boldly dare proclaim her yet

No woman. But woo her still, and think her modesty

120

A sweeter mistress than the offer'd language

Of any dame, were she a queen, whose eye

Speaks common loves and comforts to her servants.

Last, noble son (for so I now must call you),

What I have done thus public, is not only

125

To add a comfort in particular

To you or me, but all; and to confirm

The nobles and the gentry of these kingdoms

By oath to your succession, which shall be

Within this month at most.

Thrasiline

130

This will be hardly done.

Cleremont

It must be ill done, if it be done.

Dion

When 't is at best, 't will be but half done, whilst

So brave a gentleman's wrong'd and flung off.

Thrasiline

I fear.

Cleremont

135

Who does not?

Dion

I fear not for myself, and yet I fear too.

Well, we shall see, we shall see. No more.

Pharamond

Kissing your white hand, mistress, I take leave

To thank your royal father; and thus far

140

To be my own free trumpet. Understand,

Great King, and these your subjects, mine that must be,

(For so deserving you have spoke me, sir,

And so deserving I dare speak myself,)

To what a person, of what eminence,

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Ripe expectation, of what faculties,

Manners and virtues, you should wed your kingdoms:

You in me have your wishes. Oh, this country!

By more than all the gods, I hold it happy;

Happy in their dear memories that have been

150

Kings great and good; happy in yours that is;

And from you (as a chronicle to keep

Your noble name from eating age) do I

Opine myself most happy. Gentlemen,

Believe me in a word, a prince's word,

155

There shall be nothing to make up a kingdom

Mighty and flourishing, defenced, fear'd,

Equal to be commanded and obeyed,

But through the travails of my life I'll find it,

And tie it to this country. By all the gods,

160

My reign shall be so easy to the subject,

That every man shall be his prince himself,

And his own law – yet I his prince and law.

And, dearest lady, to your dearest self

(Dear in the choice of him whose name and lustre

165

Must make you more and mightier) let me say,

You are the blessed'st living; for, sweet princess,

You shall enjoy a man of men to be

Your servant; you shall make him yours, for whom

Great queens must die.

Thrasiline

170

Miraculous!

Cleremont

This speech calls him Spaniard, being nothing but a large inventory of his own commendations.

Dion

I wonder what's his price; for certainly

He'll sell himself, he has so prais'd his shape.

Enter Philaster

175

But here comes one more worthy those large speeches

Than the large speaker of them.

Let me be swallow'd quick, if I can find,

In all the anatomy of yon man's virtues,

One sinew sound enough to promise for him,

180

He shall be constable. By this sun,

He'll ne'er make king unless it be of trifles,

In my poor judgment.

Philaster

[kneeling.]

Right noble sir, as low as my obedience

And with a heart as loyal as my knee,

185

I beg your favour.

King

Rise; you have it, sir.

[Philaster rises.]

Dion

Mark but the king, how pale he looks with fear!

Oh, this same whoreson conscience, how it jades us!

King

Speak your intents, sir.

Philaster

Shall I speak 'em freely?

Be still my royal sovereign.

King

As a subject,

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We give you freedom.

Dion

Now it heats.

Philaster

Then thus I turn

My language to you, prince, you foreign man!

Ne'er stare nor put on wonder, for you must

Endure me, and you shall. This earth you tread upon

(A dowry, as you hope, with this fair princess),

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By my dead father (oh, I had a father,

Whose memory I bow to!) was not left

To your inheritance, and I up and living –

Having myself about me and my sword,

The souls of all my name and memories,

200

These arms and some few friends besides the gods –

To part so calmly with it, and sit still

And say, "I might have been." I tell thee, Pharamond,

When thou art king, look I be dead and rotten,

And my name ashes: for, hear me, Pharamond!

205

This very ground thou goest on, this fat earth,

My father's friends made fertile with their faiths,

Before that day of shame shall gape and swallow

Thee and thy nation, like a hungry grave,

Into her hidden bowels. Prince, it shall:

210

By the just gods, it shall!

Pharamond

He's mad beyond cure, mad.

Dion

Here is a fellow has some fire in 's veins:

The outlandish prince looks like a tooth-drawer.

Philaster

Sir Prince of popinjays, I'll make it well

Appear to you I am not mad.

King

You displease us:

215

You are too bold.

Philaster

No, sir, I am too tame,

Too much a turtle, a thing born without passion,

A faint shadow, that every drunken cloud

Sails over, and makes nothing.

King

I do not fancy this.

Call our physicians; sure, he's somewhat tainted.

Thrasiline

220

I do not think 't will prove so.

Dion

H'as given him a general purge already,

For all the right he has; and now he means

To let him blood. Be constant, gentlemen:

By heaven, I'll run his hazard, although I run

225

My name out of the kingdom!

Cleremont

Peace, we are all one soul.

Pharamond

What you have seen in me to stir offence

I cannot find, unless it be this lady,

Offer'd into mine arms with the succession;

Which I must keep, (though it hath pleas'd your fury

230

To mutiny within you,) without disputing

Your genealogies, or taking knowledge

Whose branch you are. The king will leave it me,

And I dare make it mine. You have your answer.

Philaster

If thou wert sole inheritor to him

235

That made the world his, and couldst see no sun

Shine upon anything but thine; were Pharamond

As truly valiant as I feel him cold,

And ring'd among the choicest of his friends,

(Such as would blush to talk such serious follies,

240

Or back such bellied commendations),

And from this presence, spite of all these bugs,

You should hear further from me.

King

Sir, you wrong the prince; I gave you not this freedom

To brave our best friends. You deserve our frown.

245

Go to; be better temper'd.

Philaster

It must be, sir, when I am nobler us'd.

Galatea

Ladies,

This would have been a pattern of succession,

Had he ne'er met this mischief. By my life,

250

He is the worthiest the true name of man

This day within my knowledge.

Megra

I cannot tell what you may call your knowledge;

But the other is the man set in mine eye.

Oh, 't is a prince of wax!

Galatea

A dog it is.

King

255

Philaster, tell me

The injuries you aim at in your riddles.

Philaster

If you had my eyes, sir, and sufferance,

My griefs upon you, and my broken fortunes,

My wants great, and now-nothing hopes and fears,

260

My wrongs would make ill riddles to be laugh'd at.

Dare you be still my king, and right me not?

King

Give me your wrongs in private.

Philaster

Take them,

And ease me of a load would bow strong Atlas.

They whisper.

Cleremont

He dares not stand the shock.

Dion

265

I cannot blame him; there's danger in 't. Every man in this age has not a soul of crystal, for all men to read their actions through: men's hearts and faces are so far asunder, that they hold no intelligence. Do but view

270

yon stranger well, and you shall see a fever through all his bravery, and feel him shake like a true tyrant. If he give not back his crown again upon the report of an elder-gun, I have no augury.

King

275

Go to;

Be more yourself, as you respect our favour;

You'll stir us else. Sir, I must have you know,

That y' are and shall be, at our pleasure, what

Fashion we will put upon you. Smooth your brow,

280

Or by the gods –

Philaster

I am dead, sir; y' are my fate. It was not I

Said I was wrong'd: I carry all about me

My weak stars lead me to, all my weak fortunes.

Who dares in all this presence speak, (that is

285

But man of flesh, and may be mortal,) tell me

I do not most entirely love this prince,

And honour his full virtues!

King

Sure, he's possess'd.

Philaster

Yes, with my father's spirit. It's here, O King,

A dangerous spirit! Now he tells me, King,

290

I was a king's heir, bids me be a king,

And whispers to me, these are all my subjects.

'T is strange he will not let me sleep, but dives

Into my fancy, and there gives me shapes

That kneel and do me service, cry me king.

295

But I'll suppress him; he's a factious spirit,

And will undo me. –

[To Pharamond]

Noble sir, your hand;

I am your servant.

King

Away! I do not like this:

I'll make you tamer, or I'll dispossess you

300

Both of your life and spirit. For this time

I pardon your wild speech, without so much

As your imprisonment.

Exeunt King, Pharamond, Arethusa.

Dion

I thank you, sir; you dare not for the people.

Galatea

Ladies, what think you now of this brave fellow?

Megra

305

A pretty talking fellow, hot at hand. But eye yon stranger: is he not a fine complete gentleman? Oh, these strangers, I do affect them strangely! They do the rarest home-things, and please the fullest! As I live, I could

310

love all the nation over and over for his sake.

Galatea

Gods comfort your poor head-piece, lady! 'T is a weak one, and had need of a night-cap.

Exeunt Ladies.

Dion

See, how his fancy labours! Has he not

315

Spoke home and bravery? What a dangerous train

Did he give fire to! How he shook the king,

Made his soul melt within him, and his blood

Run into whey! It stood upon his brow

Like a cold winter dew.

Philaster

Gentlemen,

320

You have no suit to me? I am no minion.

You stand, methinks, like men that would be courtiers,

If you could well be flatter'd at a price

Not to undo your children. Y'are all honest:

Go, get you home again, and make your country

325

A virtuous court, to which your great ones may,

In their diseased age, retire and live recluse.

Cleremont

How do you, worthy sir?

Philaster

Well, very well;

And so well that, if the king please, I find

I may live many years.

Dion

The king must please,

330

Whilst we know what you are and who you are,

Your wrongs and virtues. Shrink not, worthy sir,

But add your father to you; in whose name

We'll waken all the gods, and conjure up

The rods of vengeance, the abused people,

335

Who, like to raging torrents, shall swell high,

And so begirt the dens of these male-dragons,

That, through the strongest safety, they shall beg

For mercy at your sword's point.

Philaster

Friends, no more;

Our ears may be corrupted; 't is an age

340

We dare not trust our wills to. Do you love me?

Thrasiline

Do we love Heaven and honour?

Philaster

My Lord Dion, you had

A virtuous gentlewoman call'd you father.

Is she yet alive?

Dion

Most honour'd sir, she is;

345

And, for the penance but of an idle dream

Has undertook a tedious pilgrimage.

Enter a Lady

Philaster

Is it to me, or any of these gentlemen, you come?

Lady

To you, brave lord; the princess would entreat

Your present company.

Philaster

350

The princess send for me! Y'are mistaken.

Lady

If you be call'd Philaster, 't is to you.

Philaster

Kiss her fair hand, and say I will attend her.

[Exit Lady.]

Dion

Do you know what you do?

Philaster

Yes; go to see a woman.

Cleremont

355

But do you weigh the danger you are in?

Philaster

Danger in a sweet face!

By Jupiter, I must not fear a woman!

Thrasiline

But are you sure it was the princess sent?

It may be some foul train to catch your life.

Philaster

360

I do not think it, gentlemen; she's noble.

Her eye may shoot me dead, or those true red

And white friends in her cheeks may steal my soul out:

There's all the danger in 't. But, be what may,

Her single name hath arm'd me.

Exit.

Dion

Go on,

365

And be as truly happy as th'art fearless! –

Come, gentlemen, let's make our friends acquainted,

Lest the king prove false.

Exeunt.

[SCENE II]

[Arethusa's Apartment.]

Enter Arethusa and a Lady

Arethusa

Comes he not?

Lady

Madam?

Arethusa

Will Philaster come?

Lady

Dear madam, you were wont to credit me

At first.

Arethusa

But didst thou tell me so?

I am forgetful, and my woman's strength

Is so o'ercharg'd with dangers like to grow

About my marriage, that these under-things

Dare not abide in such a troubled sea.

How look'd he when he told thee he would come?

Lady

Why, well.

Arethusa

And not a little fearful?

Lady

Fear, madam! Sure, he knows not what it is.

Arethusa

You all are of his faction; the whole court

Is bold in praise of him; whilst I

May live neglected, and do noble things,

As fools in strife throw gold into the sea,

Drown'd in the doing. But, I know he fears.

Lady

Fear, madam! Methought, his looks hid more

Of love than fear.

Arethusa

Of love! To whom? To you?

Did you deliver those plain words I sent

With such a winning gesture and quick look

That you have caught him?

Lady

Madam, I mean to you.

Arethusa

Of love to me! Alas, thy ignorance

Lets thee not see the crosses of our births!

Nature, that loves not to be questioned

Why she did this or that, but has her ends,

And knows she does well, never gave the world

Two things so opposite, so contrary,

As he and I am: if a bowl of blood

Drawn from this arm of mine would poison thee,

A draught of his would cure thee. Of love to me!

Lady

Madam, I think I hear him.

Arethusa

Bring him in.

[Exit Lady.]

You gods, that would not have your dooms withstood,

Whose holy wisdoms at this time it is

To make the passion of a feeble maid

The way unto your justice, I obey.

Enter Philaster [with Lady]

Lady

Here is my Lord Philaster.

Arethusa

Oh, 't is well.

Withdraw yourself.

[Exit Lady.]

Philaster

Madam, your messenger

Made me believe you wish'd to speak with me.

Arethusa

'T is true, Philaster; but the words are such

I have to say, and do so ill beseem

The mouth of woman, that I wish them said,

And yet am loath to speak them. Have you known

That I have aught detracted from your worth?

Have I in person wrong'd you, or have set

My baser instruments to throw disgrace

Upon your virtues?

Philaster

Never, madam, you.

Arethusa

Why, then, should you, in such a public place,

Injure a princess, and a scandal lay

Upon my fortunes, fam'd to be so great,

Calling a great part of my dowry in question?

Philaster

Madam, this truth which I shall speak will be

Foolish: but, for your fair and virtuous self,

I could afford myself to have no right

To anything you wish'd.

Arethusa

Philaster, know,

I must enjoy these kingdoms.

Philaster

Madam, both?

Arethusa

Both, or I die: by heaven, I die, Philaster,

If I not calmly may enjoy them both.

Philaster

I would do much to save that noble life;

Yet would be loath to have posterity

Find in our stories, that Philaster gave

His right unto a sceptre and a crown

To save a lady's longing.

Arethusa

Nay, then, hear:

I must and will have them, and more –

Philaster

What more?

Arethusa

Or lose that little life the gods prepared

To trouble this poor piece of earth withal.

Philaster

Madam, what more?

Arethusa

Turn, then, away thy face.

Philaster

No.

Arethusa

No.

Philaster

I can endure it. Turn away my face!

I never yet saw enemy that look'd

So dreadfully, but that I thought myself

As great a basilisk as he; or spake

So horrible, but that I thought my tongue

Bore thunder underneath as much as his;

Nor beast that I could turn from. Shall I then

Begin to fear sweet sounds? A lady's voice,

Whom I do love? Say you would have my life;

Why, I will give it you; for it is of me

A thing so loath'd, and unto you that ask

Of so poor use, that I shall make no price:

If you entreat, I will unmov'dly hear.

Arethusa

Yet, for my sake, a little bend thy looks.

Philaster

I do.

Arethusa

Then know, I must have them and thee.

Philaster

And me?

Arethusa

Thy love; without which, all the land

Discover'd yet will serve me for no use

But to be buried in.

Philaster

Is 't possible?

Arethusa

With it, it were too little to bestow

On thee. Now, though thy breath do strike me dead,

(Which, now, it may,) I have unripp'd my breast.

Philaster

Madam, you are too full of noble thoughts,

To lay a train for this contemned life,

Which you may have for asking. To suspect

Were base, where I deserve no ill. Love you!

By all my hopes, I do, above my life!

But how this passion should proceed from you

So violently, would amaze a man

100

That would be jealous.

Arethusa

Another soul into my body shot

Could not have fill'd me with more strength and sprit

Than this thy breath. But spend not hasty time

In seeking how I came thus; 't is the gods,

105

The gods, that make me so; and, sure, our love

Will be the nobler and the better blest,

In that the secret justice of the gods

Is mingled with it. Let us leave, and kiss;

Lest some unwelcome guest should fall betwixt us,

110

And we should part without it.

Philaster

'T will be ill

I should abide here long.

Arethusa

'T is true; and worse

You should come often. How shall we devise

To hold intelligence, that our true loves,

On any new occasion, may agree

115

What path is best to tread?

Philaster

I have a boy,

Sent by the gods, I hope, to this intent,

Not yet seen in the court. Hunting the buck,

I found him sitting by a fountain's side,

Of which he borrow'd some to quench his thirst,

120

And paid the nymph again as much in tears.

A garland lay him by, made by himself

Of many several flowers bred in the vale,

Stuck in that mystic order that the rareness

Delighted me: but ever when he turn'd

125

His tender eyes upon 'em, he would weep,

As if he meant to make 'em grow again.

Seeing such pretty helpless innocence

Dwell in his face, I ask'd him all his story.

He told me that his parents gentle died,

130

Leaving him to the mercy of the fields,

Which gave him roots; and of the crystal springs,

Which did not stop their courses; and the sun,

Which still, he thank'd him, yielded him his light.

The took he up his garland, and did show

135

What every flower, as country-people hold,

Did signify, and how all, order'd thus,

Express'd his grief; and, to my thoughts, did read

The prettiest lecture of his country-art

That could be wish'd: so that methought I could

140

Have studied it. I gladly entertain'd

Him, who was glad to follow; and have got

The trustiest, loving'st, and the gentlest boy

That ever master kept. Him will I send

To wait on you, and bear our hidden love.

Enter Lady

Arethusa

145

'T is well; no more.

Lady

Madam, the prince is come to do his service.

Arethusa

What will you do, Philaster, with yourself?

Philaster

Why, that which all the gods have pointed out for me.

Arethusa

Dear, hide thyself. –

150

Bring in the prince.

[Exit Lady.]

Philaster

Hide me from Pharamond!

When thunder speaks, which is the voice of Jove,

Though I do reverence, yet I hide me not;

And shall a stranger-prince have leave to brag

Unto a foreign nation, that he made

155

Philaster hide himself?

Arethusa

He cannot know it.

Philaster

Though it should sleep for ever to the world,

It is a simple sin to hide myself,

Which will for ever on my conscience lie.

Arethusa

Then, good Philaster, give him scope and way

160

In what he says; for he is apt to speak

What you are loath to hear. For my sake, do.

Philaster

I will.

Enter Pharamond

Pharamond

My princely mistress, as true lovers ought,

I come to kiss these fair hands, and to show,

165

In outward ceremonies, to dear love

Writ in my heart.

Philaster

If I shall have an answer no directlier,

I am gone.

Pharamond

To what would he have answer?

Arethusa

170

To his claim unto the kingdom.

Pharamond

Sirrah, I forbare you before the king –

Philaster

Good sir, do so still; I would not talk with you.

Pharamond

But now the time is fitter. Do but offer

To make mention of right to any kingdom,

175

Though it be scarce habitable –

Philaster

Good sir, let me go.

Pharamond

And by the gods –

Philaster

Peace, Pharamond! if thou –

Arethusa

Leave us, Philaster.

Philaster

I have done.

[Going.]

Pharamond

You are gone! by Heaven I'll fetch you back.

Philaster

You shall not need.

[Returning.]

Pharamond

What now?

Philaster

Know, Pharamond,

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I loathe to brawl with such a blast as thou,

Who art nought but a valiant voice; but if

Thou shalt provoke me further, men shall say,

Thou wert, and not lament it.

Pharamond

Do you slight

My greatness so, and in the chamber of

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The princess?

Philaster

It is a place to which I must confess

I owe a reverence; but were 't the church,

Ay, at the altar, there's no place so safe,

Where thou dar'st injure me, but I dare kill thee.

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And for your greatness, know sir, I can grasp

You and your greatness thus, thus into nothing.

Give not a word, not a word back! Farewell.

Exit.

Pharamond

'T is an odd fellow, madam; we must stop

His mouth with some office when we are married.

Arethusa

195

You were best make him your controller.

Pharamond

I think he would discharge it well.

But, madam,

I hope our hearts are knit; but yet so slow

The ceremonies of state are, that 't will be long

200

Before our hands be so. If then you please,

Being agreed in heart, let us not wait

For dreaming form, but take a little stolen

Delights, and so prevent our joys to come.

Arethusa

If you dare speak such thoughts,

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I must withdraw in honour.

Exit.

Pharamond

The constitution of my body will never hold out till the wedding; I must seek elsewhere.

Exit.

Actus Secundus

Scena Prima

[Philaster's Lodging.]

Enter Philaster and his boy, called Bellario

Philaster

And thou shalt find her honourable, boy;

Full of regard unto thy tender youth

For thine own modesty; and, for my sake,

Apter to give than thou wilt be to ask,

Ay, or deserve.

Bellario

Sir, you did take me up

When I was nothing; and only yet am something

By being yours. You trusted me unknown;

And that which you are apt to conster

A simple innocence in me, perhaps

Might have been craft, the cunning of a boy

Harden'd in lies and theft: yet ventur'd you

To part my miseries and me: for which,

I never can expect to serve a lady

That bears more honour in her breast than you.

Philaster

But, boy, it will prefer thee. Thou art young,

And bear'st a childish overflowing love

To them that clap thy cheeks and speak thee fair yet;

But when thy judgment comes to rule those passions,

Thou wilt remember best those careful friends

That plac'd thee in the noblest way of life.

She is a princess I prefer thee to.

Bellario

In that small time that I have seen the world,

I never knew a man hasty to part

With a servant he thought trusty. I remember,

My father would prefer the boys he kept

To greater men than he; but did it not

Till they were grown too saucy for himself.

Philaster

Why, gentle boy, I find no fault at all

In thy behaviour.

Bellario

Sir, if I have made

A fault of ignorance, instruct my youth:

I shall be willing, if not apt, to learn;

Age and experience will adorn my mind

With larger knowledge; and if I have done

A wilful fault, think me not past all hope

For once. What master holds so strict a hand

Over his boy, that he will part with him

Without one warning? Let me be corrected

To break my stubbornness, if it be so,

Rather than turn me off; and I shall mend.

Philaster

Thy love doth plead so prettily to stay,

That (trust me) I could weep to part with thee.

Alas, I do not turn thee off! Thou knowest

It is my business that doth call thee hence;

And when thou art with her, thou dwell'st with me,

Think so, and 't is so; and when time is full,

That thou hast well discharg'd this heavy trust,

Laid on so weak a one, I will again

With joy receive thee; as I live, I will!

Nay, weep not, gentle boy. 'T is more than time

Thou didst attend the princess.

Bellario

I am gone.

But since I am to part with you, my lord,

And none knows whether I shall live to do

More service for you, take this little prayer:

Heaven bless your loves, your sighs, all your designs!

May sick men, if they have your wish, be well;

And Heaven hate those you curse, though I be one!

Exit.

Philaster

The love of boys unto their lords is strange;

I have read wonders of it: yet this boy

For my sake (if a man may judge by looks

And speech) would out-do story. I may see

A day to pay him for his loyalty.

Exit.

[SCENE II]

[Lobby of the Court.]

Enter Pharamond

Pharamond

Why should these ladies stay so long? They must come this way. I know the queen employs 'em not; for the reverend mother sent me word, they would all be for the garden.

If they should all prove honest now, I were in a fair taking. I was never so long without sport in my life, and, in my conscience, 't is not my fault. Oh, for our country ladies! Enter Galatea Here's one bolted; I'll hound at her. – Madam!

Galatea

Your grace!

Pharamond

Shall I not be a trouble?

Galatea

Not to me, sir.

[Going.]

Pharamond

Nay, nay, you are too quick. By this sweet hand –

Galatea

You'll be forsworn, sir; 't is but an old glove.

If you will talk at distance, I am for you:

But, good prince, be not bawdy, nor do not brag.

These two I only bar;

And then, I think, I shall have sense enough

To answer all the weighty apophthegms

Your royal blood shall manage.

Pharamond

Dear lady, can you love?

Galatea

Dear prince! how dear? I ne'er cost you a coach yet, nor put you to the dear repentance of a banquet. Here's no scarlet, sir, to blush the sin out it was given for. This wire

mine own hair covers; and this face has been so far from being dear to any, that it ne'er cost penny painting; and, for the rest of my poor wardrobe, such as you see, it leaves no hand behind it, to make the jealous mercer's

wife curse our good doings.

Pharamond

You mistake me, lady.

Galatea

Lord, I do so; would you or I could help it!

Pharamond

Y' are very dangerous bitter, like a potion.

Galatea

No, sir, I do not mean to purge you, though

I mean to purge a little time on you.

Pharamond

Do ladies of this country use to give

No more respect to men of my full being?

Galatea

Full being! I understand you not, unless your grace means growing to fatness; and

then your only remedy (upon my knowledge, prince) is, in a morning, a cup of neat white wine brewed with carduus, then fast till supper; about eight you may eat. Use exercise, and keep a sparrow-hawk; you can shoot in a

tiller: but, of all, your grace must fly phlebotomy, fresh pork, conger, and clarified whey; they are all dullers of the vital spirits.

Pharamond

Lady, you talk of nothing all this while.

Galatea

'T is very true, sir; I talk of you.

Pharamond

[Aside.] This is a crafty wench. I like her wit well; 't will be rare to stir up a leaden appetite. She's a Danaë, and must be courted in a shower of gold. – Madam, look here; all these, and more than –

Galatea

What have you there, my lord? Gold! now, as I live, 't is fair gold! You would have silver for it, to play with the pages. You could not have taken me in a worse time; but, if you have present use, my lord, I'll send my

man with silver and keep your gold safe for you.

[Takes the gold.]

Pharamond

Lady, lady!

Galatea

She's coming, sir, behind, will take white money. –

[Aside.]

Yet for all this I'll match ye.

She slips behind the arras.

Pharamond

If there be but two such more in this

kingdom, and near the court, we may even hang up our harps. Ten such camphor constitutions as this would call the golden age again in question, and teach the old way for every ill-fac'd husband to get his own children;

and what a mischief that would breed, let all consider! Enter Megra Here's another: if she be of the same last, the devil shall pluck her on. – Many fair mornings, lady!

Megra

As many mornings bring as many days,

Fair, sweet and hopeful to your grace!

Pharamond

[Aside.]

She gives good words yet; sure this wench is free. –

If your more serious business do not call you,

Let me hold quarter with you; we will talk

An hour out quickly.

Megra

What would your grace talk of?

Pharamond

Of some such pretty subject as yourself:

I'll go no further than your eye, or lip;

There's theme enough for one man for an age.

Megra

Sir, they stand right, and my lips are yet even,

Smooth, young enough, ripe enough, and red enough,

Or my glass wrongs me.

Pharamond

Oh, they are two twinn'd cherries dy'd in blushes,

Which those fair suns above with their bright beams

Reflect upon and ripen. Sweetest beauty,

Bow down those branches, that the longing taste

Of the faint looker-on may meet those blessings,

And taste and live.

They kiss.

Megra

[Aside.]

Oh, delicate sweet prince!

She that hath snow enough about her heart

To take the wanton spring of ten such lines off,

May be a nun without probation. – Sir,

You have in such neat poetry gather'd a kiss,

That if I had but five lines of that number,

Such pretty begging blanks, I should commend

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Your forehead or your cheeks, and kiss you too.

Pharamond

Do it in prose; you cannot miss it, madam.

Megra

I shall, I shall.

Pharamond

By my life, but you shall not;

I'll prompt you first.

[Kisses her.]

Can you do it now?

Megra

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Methinks 't is easy, now you ha' done 't before me;

But yet I should stick at it.

[Kisses him.]

Pharamond

Stick till to-morrow;

I'll ne'er part you, sweetest. But we lose time:

Can you love me?

Megra

Love you, my lord! How would you have me love you?

Pharamond

110

I'll teach you in a short sentence, 'cause I will not load your memory; this is all: love me, and lie with me.

Megra

Was it "lie with me" that you said? 'T is impossible.

Pharamond

115

Not to a willing mind, that will endeavour. If I do not teach you to do it as easily in one night as you'll go to bed, I'll lose my royal blood for 't.

Megra

Why, prince, you have a lady of your own

120

That yet wants teaching.

Pharamond

I'll sooner teach a mare the old measures than teach her anything belonging to the function. She's afraid to lie with herself if she have but any masculine imaginations

125

about her. I know, when we are married, I must ravish her.

Megra

By my honour, that's a foul fault, indeed;

But time and your good help will wear it out, sir.

Pharamond

And for any other I see, excepting your

130

dear self, dearest lady, I had rather be Sir Tim the schoolmaster, and leap a dairy-maid.

Megra

Has your grace seen the court-star, Galatea?

Pharamond

Out upon her! She's as cold of her favour

135

as an apoplex; she sail'd by but now.

Megra

And how do you hold her wit, sir?

Pharamond

I hold her wit? The strength of all the guard cannot hold it, if they were tied to it: she would blow 'em out of the kingdom. They

140

talk of Jupiter; he's but a squib-cracker to her. Look well about you, and you may find a tongue-bolt. But speak, sweet lady, shall I be freely welcome?

Megra

Whither?

Pharamond

145

To your bed. If you mistrust my faith, you do me the unnoblest wrong.

Megra

I dare not, prince, I dare not.

Pharamond

Make your own conditions: my purse shall seal 'em, and what you dare imagine you

150

can want, I'll furnish you withal. Give two hours to yours thoughts every morning about it.

ErrorMetrica

Come, I know y' re bashful;

Speak in my ear, will you be mine? Keep this,

And with it me: soon I will visit you.

Megra

155

My lord, my chamber's most unsafe; but when 't is night,

I'll find some means to slip into your lodging;

Till when –

Pharamond

Till when, this and my heart go with thee!

Exeunt several ways.

Enter Galatea from behind the hangings

Galatea

Oh, thou pernicious petticoat prince!

160

are these your virtues? Well, if I do not lay a train to blow your sport up, I am no woman: and, Lady Dowsabel, I'll fit you for 't.

Exit.

[SCENE III]

[Arethusa's Apartment.]

Enter Arethusa and a Lady

Arethusa

Where's the boy?

Lady

Within, madam.

Arethusa

Gave you him gold to buy him clothes?

Lady

I did.

Arethusa

And has he done't?

Lady

Yes, madam.

Arethusa

'T is a pretty sad-talking boy, is it not? Ask'd you his name?

Lady

No, madam.

Enter Galatea

Arethusa

Oh, you are welcome. What good news?

Galatea

As good as any one can tell your grace,

That says she has done that you would have wish'd.

Arethusa

Hast thou discovered?

Galatea

Of modesty for you I have strain'd a point.

Arethusa

I prithee, how?

Galatea

In list'ning after bawdry. I see, let a lady live never so modestly, she shall be sure to find a lawful time to hearken after bawdry. Your prince, brave Pharamond, was so hot

on 't!

Arethusa

With whom?

Galatea

Why, with the lady I suspected. I can tell the time and place.

Arethusa

Oh, when, and where?

Galatea

To-night, his lodging.

Arethusa

Run thyself into the presence; mingle there again

With other ladies; leave the rest to me.

[Exit Galatea.]

If destiny (to whom we dare not say,

"Why didst thou this?") have not decreed it so,

In lasting leaves (whose smallest characters

Were never alter'd yet), this match shall break. –

Where's the boy?

Lady

Here, madam.

Enter Bellario

Arethusa

Sir, you are sad to change your service: is 't not so?

Bellario

Madam, I have not chang'd; I wait on you,

To do him service.

Arethusa

Thou disclaim'st in me.

Tell me thy name.

Bellario

Bellario.

Arethusa

Thou canst sing and play?

Bellario

If grief will give me leave, madam, I can.

Arethusa

Alas, what kind of grief can thy years know?

Hadst thou a curst master when thou went'st to school?

Thou art not capable of other grief;

Thy brows and cheeks are smooth as waters be

When no breath troubles them. Believe me, boy,

Care seeks out wrinkled brows and hollow eyes,

And builds himself caves, to abide in them.

Come, sir, tell me truly, does your lord love me?

Bellario

Love, madam! I know not what it is.

Arethusa

Canst thou know grief, and never yet knew'st love?

Thou art deceiv'd, boy. Does he speak of me

As if he wish'd me well?

Bellario

If it be love

To forget all respect of his own friends

With thinking of your face; if it be love

To sit cross-arm'd and sigh away the day,

Mingled with starts, crying your name as loud

And hastily as men i' the streets do fire;

If it be love to weep himself away

When he but hears of any lady dead

Or kill'd, because it might have been your chance;

If, when he goes to rest (which will not be),

'Twixt every prayer he says, to name you once,

As others drop a bead, be to be in love,

Then, madam, I dare swear he loves you.

Arethusa

Oh y' are a cunning boy, and taught to lie

For your lord's credit! But thou know'st a lie

That bears this sound is welcomer to me.

Than any truth that says he loves me not.

Lead the way, boy. –

[To Lady.]

Do you attend me too. –

'T is thy lord's business hastes me thus. Away!

Exeunt.

[SCENE IV]

[Before Pharamond's Lodging.]

Enter Dion, Cleremont, Thrasiline, Megra, Galatea

Dion

Come, ladies, shall we talk a round? As men

Do walk a mile, women should talk an hour

After supper: 't is their exercise.

Galatea

'T is late.

Megra

'T is all

My eyes will do to lead me to my bed.

Galatea

I fear, they are so heavy, you'll scarce find

The way to your own lodging with 'em to-night.

Enter Pharamond

Thrasiline

The prince!

Pharamond

Not a-bed, ladies? Y' are good sitters-up.

What think you of a pleasant dream, to last

Till morning?

Megra

I should choose, my lord, a pleasing wake before it.

Enter Arethusa and Bellario

Arethusa

'T is well, my lord; y' are courting of these ladies. –

Is 't not late, gentlemen?

Cleremont

Yes, madam.

Arethusa

Wait you here.

Exit.

Megra

[Aside.]

She's jealous, as I live. – Look you, my lord,

The princess has a Hylas, an Adonis.

Pharamond

His form is angel-like.

Megra

Why this is he that must, when you are wed,

Sit by your pillow, like young Apollo, with

His hand and voice binding your thoughts in sleep.

The princess does provide him for you and for herself.

Pharamond

I find no music in these boys.

Megra

Nor I:

They can do little, and that small they do,

They have not wit to hide.

Dion

Serves he the princess?

Thrasiline

Yes.

Dion

'T is a sweet boy: how brave she keeps him!

Pharamond

Ladies all, good rest; I mean to kill a buck

To-morrow morning ere y' have done your dreams.

Megra

All happiness attend your grace!

[Exit Pharamond.]

Gentlemen, good rest. –

Come, shall we to bed?

Galatea

Yes. – All, good night.

Dion

May your dreams be true to you! –

Exeunt Galatea and Megra.

What shall we do, gallants? 't is late. The king

Is up still: see, he comes; a guard along

With him.

Enter King, Arethusa, and Guard

King

Look your intelligence be true.

Arethusa

Upon my life, it is; and I hope

Your highness will not tie me to a man

That in the heat of wooing throws me off,

And takes another.

Dion

What should this mean?

King

If it be true,

That lady had been better have embrac'd

Cureless diseases. Get you to your rest:

You shall be righted.

Exeunt Arethusa, Bellario.

– Gentlemen, draw near;

We shall employ you. Is young Pharamond

Come to his lodging?

Dion

I saw him enter there.

King

Haste, some of you, ad cunningly discover

If Megra be in her lodging.

[Exit Dion.]

Cleremont

Sir,

She parted hence but now, with other ladies.

King

If she be there, we shall not need to make

A vain discovery of our suspicion.

[Aside.]

You gods, I see that who unrighteously

Holds wealth or state from others shall be curs'd

In that which meaner men are blest withal:

Ages to come shall know no male of him

Left to inherit, and his name shall be

Blotted from earth. If he have any child,

It shall be crossly match'd; the gods themselves

Shall sow wild strife betwixt her lord and her.

Yet, if it be yours wills, forgive the sin

I have committed; let it not fall

Upon this underserving child of mine!

She has not broke your laws. But how can I

Look to be heard of gods that must be just,

Praying upon the ground I hold by wrong?

Enter Dion

Dion

Sir, I have asked, and her women swear she is within; but they, I think, are bawds. I told 'em, I must speak with her; they laugh'd,

and said, their lady lay speechless. I said, my business was important; they said, their lady was about it. I grew hot, and cried, my business was a matter that concern'd life and death; they answered, so was sleeping, at which

their lady was. I urg'd again, she had scarce time to be so since last I saw her: they smil'd again, and seem'd to instruct me that sleeping was nothing but lying down and winking. Answers more direct I could not get: in short,

sir, I think she is not there.

King

'T is then no time to dally. – You o' the guard,

Wait at the back door of the prince's lodging,

And see that none pass thence, upon your lives.

[Exeunt Guards.]

Knock, gentlemen; knock loud; – louder yet.

[Dion, Cle., &c. knock at the door of Pharamond's Lodging.]

What, has their pleasure taken off their hearing?

I'll break your meditations. – Knock again. –

Not yet? I do not think he sleeps, having this

'Larum by him. – Once more. – Pharamond! prince!

Pharamond [appears] above.

Pharamond

What saucy groom knocks at this dead of night?

Where be our waiters? By my vexed soul,

He meets is death that meets me, for his boldness.

King

Prince, prince, you wrong your thoughts; we are your friends:

Come down.

Pharamond

The king!

King

The same, sir. Come down:

We have cause of present counsel with you.

Pharamond

If your grace please

To use me, I'll attend you to your chamber.

Enter Pharamond below

King

No, 't is too late, prince; I'll make bold with yours.

Pharamond

I have some private reasons to myself

Makes me unmannerly, and say you cannot. –

They press to come in.

100

Nay, press not forward, gentlemen; he must

Come through my life that comes here.

King

Sir, be resolv'd I must and will come. – Enter.

Pharamond

I will not be dishonour'd.

He that enters, enters upon his death.

105

Sir, 't is a sign you make no stranger of me,

To bring these renegadoes to my chamber

At these unseason'd hours.

King

Why do you

Chafe yourself so? You are not wrong'd nor shall be;

Only I'll search your lodging, for some cause

110

To ourself known. – Enter, I say.

Pharamond

I say, no.

[Enter] Megra above

Megra

Let 'em enter, prince, let 'em enter;

I am up and ready: I know their business;

'T is the poor breaking of a lady's honour

They hunt so hotly after: let 'em enjoy it. –

115

You have your business, gentlemen; I lay here.

Oh, my lord the king, this is not noble in you

To make public the weakness of a woman!

King

Come down.

Megra

I dare, my lord. Your hootings and your clamours,

120

Your private whispers and your broad fleerings,

Can no more vex my soul than this base carriage.

But I have vengeance yet in store for some

Shall, in the most contempt you can have of me,

Be joy and nourishment.

King

Will you come down?

Megra

125

Yes, to laugh at your worst; but I shall wring you,

If my skill fail me not.

[Exit above.]

King

Sir, I must dearly chide you for this looseness;

You have wrong'd a worthy lady; but, no more. –

Conduct him to my lodging and to bed.

[Exeunt Pharamond and Attendants.]

Cleremont

130

Get him another wench, and you bring him to bed indeed.

Dion

'T is strange a man cannot ride a stage

Or two, to breathe himself, without a warrant.

If his gear hold, that lodgings be search'd thus,

135

Pray God we may lie with our own wives in safety,

That they be not by some trick of state mistaken!

Enter [Attendants] with Megra [below]

King

Now, lady of honour, where's your honour now?

No man can fit your palate but the prince.

Thou most ill-shrouded rottenness, thou piece

140

Made by a painter and a 'pothecary,

Thou troubled sea of lust, thou wilderness

Inhabited by wild thoughts, thou swoln cloud

Of infection, thou ripe mine of all diseases,

Thou all-sin, all-hell, and last, all-devils, tell me,

145

Had you none to pull on with your courtesies

But he that must be mine, and wrong my daughter?

By all the gods, all these, and all the pages,

And all the court, shall hoot thee through the court,

Fling rotten oranges, make ribald rhymes,

150

And sear thy name with candles upon walls!

Do you laugh, Lady Venus?

Megra

Faith, sir, you must pardon me;

I cannot choose but laugh to see you merry.

If you do this, O King! nay, if you dare do it,

By all those gods you swore by, and as many

155

More of my own, I will have fellows, and such

Fellows in it, as shall make noble mirth!

The princess, your dear daughter, shall stand by me

On walls, and sung in ballads, anything.

Urge me no more; I know her and her haunts,

160

Her lays, leaps, and outlays, and will discover all;

Nay, will dishonour her. I know the boy

She keeps; a handsome boy, about eighteen;

Know what she does with him, where, and when.

Come, sir, you put me to a woman's madness,

165

The glory of a fury; and if I do not

Do 't to the height –

King

What boy is this she raves at?

Megra

Alas! good-minded prince, you know not these things!

I am loath to reveal 'em. Keep this fault,

As you would keep your health from the hot air

170

Of the corrupted people, or, by Heaven,

I will not fall alone. What I have known

Shall be as public as a print; all tongues

Shall speak it as they do the language they

Are born in, as free and commonly; I'll set it,

175

Like a prodigious star, for all to gaze at,

And so high and glowing, that other kingdoms far and foreign

Shall read it there, nay, travel with it, till they find

No tongue to make it more, nor no more people;

And then behold the fall of your fair princess!

King

180

Has she a boy?

Cleremont

So please your grace, I have seen a boy wait

On her, a fair boy.

King

Go, get you to your quarter:

For this time I will study to forget you.

Megra

Do you study to forget me, and I'll study

185

To forget you.

Exeunt King, Megra, Guard.

Cleremont

Why, here's a male spirit fit for Hercules. If ever there be Nine Worthies of women, this wench shall ride astride and be their captain.

Dion

Sure, she has a garrison of devils in her

190

tongue, she uttered such balls of wild-fire. She has so nettled the king, that all the doctors in the country will scarce cure him. That boy was a strange-found-out antidote to cure her infection: that boy, that princess' boy; that

195

brave, chaste, virtuous lady's boy; and a fair boy, a well-spoken boy! All these considered, can make nothing else – but there I leave you, gentlemen.

Thrasiline

Nay, we'll go wander with you.

Exeunt.

Actus Tertius

Scena Prima

[The Court.]

Enter Cleremont, Dion, and Thrasiline

Cleremont

Nay, doubtless, 't is true.

Dion

Ay; and 't is the gods

That rais'd this punishment, to scourge the king

With his own issue. Is it not a shame

For us that should write noble in the land,

For us that should be freemen, to behold

A man that is the bravery of his age,

Philaster, press'd down from his royal right

By his regardless king? and only look

And see the sceptre ready to be cast

Into the hands of that lascivious lady,

That lives in lust with a smooth boy, now to be married

To yon strange prince, who, but that people please

To let him be a prince, is born a slave

In that which should be his most noble part,

His mind?

Thrasiline

That man that would not stir with you

To aid Philaster, let the gods forget

That such a creature walks upon the earth!

Cleremont

Philaster is too backward in 't himself.

The gentry do await it, and the people,

Against their nature, are all bent for him,

And like a field of standing corn, that's mov'd

With a stiff gale, their heads bow all one way.

Dion

The only cause that draws Philaster back

From this attempt is the fair princess' love,

Which he admires, and we can now confute.

Thrasiline

Perhaps he'll not believe it.

Dion

Why, gentlemen, 't is without question so.

Cleremont

Ay, 't is past speech she lives dishonestly.

But how shall we, if he be curious, work

Upon his faith?

Thrasiline

We all are satisfied within ourselves.

Dion

Since it is true, and tends to his own good,

I'll make this new report to be my knowledge.

I'll say I know it; nay, I'll swear I saw it.

Cleremont

It will be best.

Thrasiline

'T will move him.

Enter Philaster

Dion

Here he comes.

Good morrow to your honour: we have spent

Some time in seeking you.

Philaster

My worthy friends,

You that can keep your memories to know

Your friend in miseries, and cannot frown

On men disgrac'd for virtue, a good day

Attend you all! What service may I do

Worthy your acceptation?

Dion

My good lord,

We come to urge that virtue, which we know

Lives in your breast, forth. Rise, and make a head;

The nobles and the people are all dull'd

With this usurping king; and not a man,

That ever heard the word, knows such a thing

As virtue, but will second your attempts.

Philaster

How honourable is this love in you

To me that have deserv'd none! Know, my friends.

(You, that were born to shame your poor Philaster

With too much courtesy,) I could afford

To melt myself in thanks: but my designs

Are not yet ripe. Suffice it, that ere long

I shall employ your loves; but yet the time

Is short of what I would.

Dion

The time is fuller, sir, than you expect;

That which hereafter will not, perhaps, be reach'd

By violence, many now be caught. As for the king,

You know the people have long hated him;

But now the princess, whom they lov'd –

Philaster

Why, what of her?

Dion

Is loath'd as much as he.

Philaster

By what strange means?

Dion

She's known a whore.

Philaster

Thou liest.

Dion

My lord –

Philaster

Offers to draw and is held.

Thou liest,

And thou shalt feel it! I had thought thy mind

Had been of honour. Thus to rob a lady

Of her good name is an infectious sin

Not to be pardon'd. Be it false as hell,

'T will never be redeem'd, if it be sown

Amongst the people, fruitful to increase

All evil they shall hear. Let me alone

That I may cut off falsehood whilst it springs!

Set hills on hills betwixt me and the man

That utters this, and I will scale them all,

And from the utmost top fall on his neck,

Like thunder from a cloud.

Dion

This is most strange:

Sure, he does love her.

Philaster

I do love fair truth.

She is my mistress, and who injures her

Draws vengeance from me. Sirs, let go my arms.

Thrasiline

Nay, good my lord, be patient.

Cleremont

Sir, remember,

This is your honour'd friend,

That comes to do his service, and will show you

Why he utter'd this.

Philaster

I ask you pardon, sir;

My zeal to truth made me unmannerly:

Should I have heard dishonour spoke of you,

Behind your back, untruly, I had been

As much distemper'd and enrag'd as now.

Dion

But this, my lord, is truth.

Philaster

Oh, say not so!

Good sir, forbear to say so: 't is then truth,

That womankind is false: urge it no more;

It is impossible. Why should you think

The princess light?

Dion

Why, she was taken at it.

Philaster

'T is false! by Heaven, 't is false! It cannot be

Can it? Speak, gentlemen; for God's love, speak!

Is 't possible? Can women all be damn'd?

Dion

Why, no, my lord.

Philaster

Why, then, it cannot be.

Dion

And she was taken with her boy.

Philaster

What boy?

Dion

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A page, a boy that serves her.

Philaster

Oh, good gods!

A little boy?

Dion

Ay; know you him, my lord?

Philaster

[Aside.]

Hell and sin know him! – Sir, you are deceiv'd;

I'll reason it a little coldly with you.

If she were lustful, would she take a boy,

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That knows not yet desire? She would have one

Should meet her thoughts and know the sin he acts,

Which is the great delight of wickedness.

You are abus'd, and so is she, and I.

Dion

How you, my lord?

Philaster

Why, all the world's abus'd

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In an unjust report.

Dion

Oh, noble sir, your virtues

Cannot look into the subtle thoughts of woman!

In short, my lord, I took them; I myself.

Philaster

Now, all the devils, thou didst! Fly from my rage!

Would thou hadst ta'en devils engend'ring plagues,

115

When thou didst take them! Hide thee from mine eyes!

Would thou hadst taken thunder on thy breast,

When thou didst take them; or been strucken dumb

For ever; that this foul deed might have slept

In silence!

Thrasiline

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Have you known him so ill-temper'd?

Cleremont

Never before.

Philaster

The winds that are let loose

From the four several corners of the earth,

And spread themselves all over sea and land,

Kiss not a chaste one. What friend bears a sword

125

To run me through?

Dion

Why, my lord, are you

So mov'd at this?

Philaster

When any fall from virtue,

I am distracted; I have an interest in 't.

Dion

But, good my lord, recall yourself, and think

What's best to be done.

Philaster

I thank you; I will do it.

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Please you to leave me; I'll consider of it.

To-morrow I will find your lodging forth,

And give you answer.

Dion

All the gods direct you

The readiest way!

Thrasiline

He was extreme impatient.

Cleremont

It was his virtue and his noble mind.

Exeunt Dion, Cleremont, and Thrasiline.

Philaster

135

I had forgot to ask him where he took them;

I'll follow him. Oh that I had a sea

Within my breast, to quench the fire I feel!

More circumstances will but fan this fire:

It more afflicts me now, to know by whom

140

This deed is done, than simply that 't is done;

And he that tells me this is honourable,

As far from lies as she is far from truth.

Oh, that, like beasts, we could not grieve ourselves

With that we see not! Bulls and rams will fight

145

To keep their females, standing in their sight;

But take 'em from them, and you take at once

Their spleens away; and they will fall again

Unto their pastures, growing fresh and fat,

And taste the waters of the springs as sweet

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As 't was before, finding no start in sleep;

But miserable man –

Enter Bellario

See, see, you gods,

He walks still; and the face you let him wear

When he was innocent is still the same,

Not blasted! Is this justice? Do you mean

155

To intrap mortality, that you allow

Treason so smooth a brow? I cannot now

Think he is guilty.

Bellario

Health to you, my lord!

The princess doth commend her love, her life,

And this, unto you.

He gives him a letter.

Philaster

Oh, Bellario,

160

Now I perceive she loves me: she does show it

In loving thee, my boy. She has made thee brave.

Bellario

My lord, she has attir'd me past my wish,

Past my desert; more fit for her attendant,

Though far unfit for me who do attend.

Philaster

165

Thou art grown courtly, boy. – Oh, let all women,

That love black deeds, learn to dissemble here,

Here, by this paper! She does write to me

As if her heart were mines of adamant

To all the world besides; but, unto me,

170

A maiden-snow that melted with my looks. –

Tell me, my boy, how doth the princess use thee?

For I shall guess her love to me by that.

Bellario

Scarce like her servant, but as if I were

Something allied to her, or had preserv'd

175

Her life three time by my fidelity:

As mothers fond do use their only sons,

As I'd use one that's left unto my trust,

For whom my life should pay if he met harm,

So she does use me.

Philaster

Why, this is wondrous well:

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But what kind language does she feed thee with?

Bellario

Why, she does tell me she will trust my youth

With all her loving secrets, and does call me

Her pretty servant; bids me weep no more

For leaving you; she'll see my services

185

Regarded: and such words of that soft strain

That I nearer weeping when she ends

Than ere she spake.

Philaster

This is much better still.

Bellario

Are you not ill, my lord?

Philaster

Ill? No, Bellario.

Bellario

Methinks your words

190

Fall not from off your tongue so evenly,

Nor is there in your looks that quietness

That I was wont to see.

Philaster

Thou art deceiv'd, boy:

And she strokes thy head?

Bellario

Yes.

Philaster

And she does clap thy cheeks?

Bellario

She does, my lord.

Philaster

195

And she does kiss thee, boy? ha!

Bellario

How, my lord?

Philaster

She kisses thee?

Bellario

Never, my lord, by heaven.

Philaster

That's strange, I know she does.

Bellario

No, by my life.

Philaster

Why then she does not love me. Come, she does.

I bade her do it; I charg'd her, by all charms

200

Of love between us, by the hope of peace

We should enjoy, to yield thee all delights

Naked as to her bed; I took her oath

Thou shouldst enjoy her. Tell me, gentle boy,

Is she not parallelless? Is not her breath

205

Sweet as Arabian winds when fruits are ripe?

Are not her breasts two liquid ivory balls?

Is she not all a lasting mine of joy?

Bellario

Ay, now I see why my disturbed thoughts

Were so perplex'd. When first I went to her,

210

My heart held augury. You are abus'd;

Some villain has abus'd you; I do see

Whereto you tend. Fall rocks upon his head

That put this to you! 'T is some subtle train

To bring that noble frame of yours to nought.

Philaster

215

Thou think'st I will be angry with thee. Come,

Thou shalt know all my drift. I hate her more

Than I love happiness, and plac'd thee there

To pry with narrow eyes into her deeds.

Hast thou discover'd? Is she fall'n to lust,

220

As I would wish her? Speak some comfort to me.

Bellario

My lord, you did mistake the boy you sent.

Had she the lust of sparrows or of goats,

Had she a sin that way, hid from the world,

Beyond the name of lust, I would not aid

225

Her base desires; but what I came to know

As servant to her, I would not reveal,

To make my life last ages.

Philaster

Oh, my heart!

This is a salve worse than the main disease. –

Tell me thy thoughts; for I will know the least

230

That dwells within thee, or will rip thy heart

To know it. I will see thy thoughts as plain

As I do now thy face.

Bellario

Why, so you do.

She is (for aught I know) by all the gods,

As chaste as ice! But were she foul as hell,

235

And I did know it thus, the breath of kings,

The points of swords, tortures, nor bulls of brass,

Should draw it from me.

Philaster

Then it is no time

To dally with thee; I will take thy life,

For I do hate thee. I could curse thee now.

Bellario

240

If you do hate, you could not curse me worse;

The gods have no a punishment in store

Greater for me than is your hate.

Philaster

Fie, fie,

So young and so dissembling ! Tell me when

And where thou didst enjoy her, or let plagues

245

Fall on me, if I destroy thee not!

Draws his sword.

Bellario

Heaven knows, I never did; and when I lie

To save my life, may I live long and loath'd!

Hew me asunder, and, whilst I can think,

I'll love those pieces you have cut away

250

Better than those that grow, and kiss those limbs

Because you made 'em so.

Philaster

Fear'st thou not death?

Can boys contemn that?

Bellario

Oh, what boy is he

Can be content to live to be a man,

That sees the best of men thus passionate,

255

Thus without reason?

Philaster

Oh, but thou dost not know

What 't is to die.

Bellario

Yes, I do know, my lord:

'T is less than to be born; a lasting sleep;

A quiet resting from all jealousy,

A thing we all pursue. I know, besides,

260

It is but giving over a game

That must be lost.

Philaster

But there are pains, false boy,

For perjur'd souls. Think but on those, and then

Thy heart will melt, and thou wilt utter all.

Bellario

May they fall all upon me whilst I live,

265

If I be perjur'd, or have ever thought

Of that you charge me with! If I be false,

Send me to suffer in those punishments

You speak of; kill me!

Philaster

Oh, what should I do?

Why, who can but believe him? He does swear

270

So earnestly, that if it were not true,

The gods would not endure him. Rise, Bellario:

Thy protestations are so deep, and thou

Dost look so truly when thou utter'st them,

That, though I know 'em false as were my hopes,

275

I cannot urge thee further. But thou wert

To blame to injure me, for I must love

Thy honest looks, and take no revenge upon

Thy tender youth. A love from me to thee

Is firm, whate'er thou dost; it troubles me

280

That I have call'd the blood out of thy cheeks,

That did so well become thee. But, good boy,

Let me not see thee more: something is done

That will distract me, that will make me mad,

If I behold thee. If thou tender'st me,

285

Let me not see thee.

Bellario

I will fly as far

As there is morning, ere I give distaste

To that most honour'd mind. But through these tears,

Shed at my hopeless parting, I can see

A world of treason practis'd upon you,

290

And her, and me. Farewell for evermore!

If you shall hear that sorrow struck me dead,

And after find me loyal, let there be

A tear shed from you in my memory,

And I shall rest in peace.

Exit.

Philaster

295

Blessing be with thee,

Whatever thou deserv'st! Oh, where shall I

Go bathe this body? Nature too unkind;

That made no medicine for a troubled mind!

Exit.

[SCENE II]

[Arethusa's Apartment.]

Enter Arethusa

Arethusa

I marvel my boy comes not back again:

But that I know my love will question him

Over and over, – how I slept, wak'd, talk'd,

How I rememb'red him, when his dear name

Was last spoke, and how, when I sigh'd, wept, sung,

And then thousand such, – I should be angry at his stay.

Enter King

King

What, at your meditations! Who attends you?

Arethusa

None but my single self. I need no guard;

I do no wrong, nor fear none.

King

Tell me, have you not a boy?

Arethusa

Yes, sir.

King

What kind of boy?

Arethusa

A page, a waiting-boy.

King

A handsome boy?

Arethusa

I think he be not ugly:

Well qualified and dutiful I know him;

I took him not for beauty.

King

He speaks and sings and plays?

Arethusa

Yes, sir.

King

About eighteen?

Arethusa

I never ask'd his age.

King

Is he full of service?

Arethusa

By your pardon, why do you ask?

King

Put him away.

Arethusa

Sir!

King

Put him away, I say.

H'as done you that good service shames me to speak of.

Arethusa

Good, sir, let me understand you.

King

If you fear me,

Show it in duty; put away that boy.

Arethusa

Let me have reason for it, sir, and then

Your will is my command.

King

Do not you blush to ask it? Cast him off,

Or I shall do the same to you. Y' are one

Shame with me, and so near unto myself,

That, by my life, I dare not tell myself,

What you, myself, have done.

Arethusa

What have I done, my lord?

King

'T is a new language, that all love to learn:

The common people speak it well already;

They need no grammar. Understand me well:

There be foul whispers stirring. Cast him off,

And suddenly. Do it! Farewell.

Exit King.

Arethusa

Where may a maiden live securely free,

Keeping her honour fair? Not with the living.

They feed upon opinions, errors, dreams,

And make 'em truths; they draw a nourishment

Out of defamings, grow upon disgraces,

And, when they see a virtue fortified

Strongly above the battery of their tongues,

Oh, how they cast to sink it! and, defeated,

(Soul-sick with poison) strike the monuments

Where noble names lie sleeping, till they sweat,

And the cold marble melt.

Enter Philaster

Philaster

Peace to your fairest thoughts, dearest mistress!

Arethusa

Oh, my dearest servant, I have a war within me!

Philaster

He must be more than man that makes these crystals

Run into rivers. Sweetest fair, the cause?

And, as I am your slave, tied to your goodness,

Your creature, made again from what I was

And newly-spirited, I'll right your honour.

Arethusa

Oh, my best love, that boy!

Philaster

What boy?

Arethusa

The pretty boy you gave me –

Philaster

What of him?

Arethusa

Must be no more mine.

Philaster

Why?

Arethusa

They are jealous of him.

Philaster

Jealous! Who?

Arethusa

The king.

Philaster

[Aside.]

Oh, my misfortune!

Then t is no idle jealousy. – Let him go.

Arethusa

Oh, cruel!

Are you hard-hearted too? Who shall now tell you

How much I lov'd you? Who shall swear it to you,

And weep the tears I send? Who shall now bring you

Letters, rings, bracelets? Lose his health in service?

Wake tedious nights in stories of your praise?

Who shall now sing your crying elegies,

And strike a sad soul into senseless pictures,

And make them mourn? Who shall take up his lute,

And touch it till he crown a silent sleep

Upon my eye-lids, making me dream, and cry,

"Oh, my dear, dear Philaster!"

Philaster

[Aside.]

Oh, my heart!

Would he had broken thee, that made thee know

This lady was not loyal! – Mistress,

Forget the boy; I'll get thee a far better.

Arethusa

Oh, never, never such a boy again

As my Bellario!

Philaster

'T is but your fond affection.

Arethusa

With thee, my boy, farewell for ever

All secrecy in servants! Farewell, faith,

And all desire to do well for itself!

Let all that shall succeed thee for thy wrongs

Sell and betray chaste love!

Philaster

And all this passion for a boy?

Arethusa

He was your boy, and you put him to me,

And the loss of such must have a mourning for.

Philaster

Oh, thou forgetful woman!

Arethusa

How, my lord?

Philaster

False Arethusa!

Hast thou a medicine to restore my wits,

When I have lost 'em? If not, leave to talk,

And do thus.

Arethusa

Do what, sir? Would you sleep?

Philaster

For ever, Arethusa. Oh, you gods

Give me a worthy patience! Have I stood,

Naked, alone, the shock of many fortunes?

Have I seen mischiefs numberless and mighty

Grow like a sea upon me? Have I taken

Danger as stern as death into my bosom,

And laugh'd upon it, made it but a mirth,

And flung it by? Do I live now like him,

Under this tyrant king, that languishing

Hears his sad bell and sees his mourners? Do I

100

Bear all this bravely, and must sink at length

Under a woman's falsehood? Oh, that boy,

That cursed boy! None but a villain boy

To ease your lust?

Arethusa

Nay, then, I am betray'd:

I feel the plot cast for my overthrow.

105

Oh, I am wretched!

Philaster

Now you may take that little right I have

To this poor kingdom. Give it to your joy;

For I have no joy in it. Some far place,

Where never womankind durst set her foot

110

For bursting with her poisons, must I seek,

And live to curse you;

There dig a cave, and preach to birds and beasts

What woman is, and help to save them from you:

How heaven is in your eyes, but in your hearts

115

More hell than hell has; how your tongues, like scorpions,

Both heal and poison; how your thoughts are woven

With thousand changes in one subtle web,

And worn so by you; how that foolish man,

That reads the story of a woman's face

120

And dies believing it, is lost for ever;

How all the good you have is but a shadow,

I' th' morning with you, and at night behind you,

Past and forgotten; how your vows are frosts,

Fast for a night, and with the next sun gone;

125

How you are, being taken all together,

A mere confusion, and so dead a chaos,

That love cannot distinguish. These sad texts,

Till my last hour, I am bound to utter of you.

So, farewell all my woe, all my delight!

Exit.

Arethusa

130

Be merciful, ye gods, and strike me dead!

What way have I deserv'd this? Make my breast

Transparent as pure crystal, that the world,

Jealous of me, may see the foulest thought

My heart holds. Where shall a woman turn her eyes,

135

To find out constancy?

Enter Bellario

Save me, how black

And guiltily, methinks, that boy looks now!

Oh, thou dissembler, that, before thou spak'st,

Wert in thy cradle false, sent to make lies

And betray innocents! Thy lord and thou

140

May glory in the ashes of a maid

Fool'd by her passion; but the conquest is

Nothing so great as wicked. Fly away!

Let my command force thee to that which shame

Would do without it. If thou understood'st

145

The loathed office thou hast undergone,

Why, thou wouldst hide thee under heaps of hills,

Lest men should dig and find thee.

Bellario

Oh, what god,

Angry with men, hath sent this strange disease

Into the noblest minds! Madam, this grief

150

You add unto me is no more than drops

To seas, for which they are not seen to swell.

My lord hath struck his anger through my heart,

And let out all the hope of future joys.

You need not bid me fly; I came to part,

155

To take my latest leave. Farewell for ever!

I durst not run away in honesty

From such a lady, like a boy that stole

Or made some grievous fault. The power of gods

Assist you in your sufferings! Hasty time

160

Reveal the truth to your abused lord

And mine, that he may know your worth; whilst I

Go seek out some forgotten place to die!

Exit.

Arethusa

Peace guide thee! Thou hast overthrown me once;

Yet, if I had another Troy to lose,

165

Thou, or another villain with thy looks,

Might talk me out of it, and send me naked,

My hair dishevell'd, through the fiery streets.

Enter a Lady

Lady

Madam, the king would hunt, and calls for you

With earnestness.

Arethusa

I am in tune to hunt!

170

Diana, if thou canst rage with a maid

As with a man, let me discover thee

Bathing, and turn me to a fearful hind,

That I may die pursued by cruel hounds,

And have my story written in my wounds!

Exeunt.

Actus Quartus

Scena Prima

[The Court.]

Enter King, Pharamond, Arethusa, Galatea, Megra, Dion, Cleremont, Thrasiline, and Attendants

King

What, are the hounds before and all the woodmen?

Our horses ready and our bows bent?

Dion

All, sir.

King

[to Pharamond.]

Y' are cloudy, sir. Come, we have forgotten

Your venial trespass; let not that sit heavy

Upon your spirit; here's none dare utter it.

Dion

He looks like an old surfeited stallion after his leaping, dull as a dormouse. See how he sinks! The wench has shot him between wind and water, and, I hope, sprung a leak.

Thrasiline

He needs no teaching, he strikes sure enough. His greatest fault is, he hunts too much in the purlieus; would he would leave off poaching!

Dion

And for his horn, h'as left it at the

lodge where he lay late. Oh, he's a precious limehound! Turn him loose upon the pursuit of a lady, and if he lose her, hang him up i' the slip. When my fox-bitch, Beauty, grows proud, I'll borrow him.

King

Is your boy turn'd away?

Arethusa

You did command, sir, and I obey'd you.

King

'T is well done. Hark ye further.

[They talk apart.]

Cleremont

Is 't possible this fellow should repent?

Methinks, that were not noble in him; and yet he looks like a mortified member, as if he had a "Sick Man's Salve" in 's mouth. If a worse man had done this fault now, some physical justice or other would presently

(without the help of an almanac) have opened the obstructions of his liver, and let him blood with a dog-whip.

Dion

See, see how modestly yon lady looks, as if she came from churching with her neighbours!

Why, what a devil can a man see in her face but that she's honest!

Thrasiline

Faith, no great matter to speak of: a foolish twinkling with the eye, that spoils her coat; but he must be a cunning herald that

finds it.

Dion

See how they muster one another! Oh, there's a rank regiment where the devil carries the colours and his dam drum-major! Now the world and the flesh come behind with the carriage.

Cleremont

Sure this lady has a good turn done her against her will; before she was common talk, now none dare say cantharides can stir her. Her face looks like a warrant, willing and commanding all tongues, as they will answer it,

to be tied up and bolted when this lady means to let herself loose. As I live, she has got her a goodly protection and a gracious; and may use her body discreetly for her health's sake, once a week, excepting Lent and dog-days. Oh,

if they were to be got for money, what a great sum would come out of the city for these licences!

King

To horse, to horse! we lose the morning, gentlemen.

Exeunt.

[SCENE II]

[The Forest.]

Enter two Woodmen.

1 Woodman

What, have you lodged the deer?

2 Woodman

Yes, they are ready for the bow.

1 Woodman

Who shoots?

2 Woodman

The princess.

1 Woodman

No, she'll hunt.

2 Woodman

She'll take a stand, I say.

1 Woodman

Who else?

2 Woodman

Why, the young stranger-prince.

1 Woodman

He shall shoot in a stone-bow for

me. I never lov'd his beyond-sea-ship since her forsook the say, for paying ten shillings. He was there at the fall of a deer, and would needs (out of his mightiness) give ten groats for the dowcets; marry, his steward would

have the velvet-head into the bargain, to turf his hat withal. I think he should love venery; he is an old Sir Tristram; for, if you be rememb'red, he forsook the stag once to strike a rascal miching in a meadow, and her he kill'd

in the eye. Who shoots else?

2 Woodman

The Lady Galatea.

1 Woodman

That's a good wench, and she would not chide us for tumbling of her women in the brakes. She's liberal, and by the gods, they

say she's honest, and whether that be a fault, I have nothing to do. There's all?

2 Woodman

No, one more; Megra.

1 Woodman

That's a firker, i' faith, boy. There's a wench will ride her haunches as

hard after a kennel of hounds as a hunting saddle, and when she comes home, get 'em clapp'd, and all is well again. I have known her lose herself three times in one afternoon (if the woods have been answerable), and it has been

work enough for one man to find her, and he has sweat for it. She rides well and she pays well. Hark! let's go.

Exeunt.

Enter Philaster

Philaster

Oh, that I had been nourish'd in these woods

With milk of goats and acorns, and not known

The right of crowns nor the dissembling trains

Of women's looks; but digg'd myself a cave

Where I, my fire, my cattle, and my bed

Might have been shut together in one shed;

And then had taken me some mountain-girl,

Beaten with winds, chaste as the harden'd rocks

Whereon she dwelt, that might have strew'd my bed

With leaves and reeds, and with the skins of beasts,

Our neighbours, and have borne at her big breasts

My large coarse issue! This had been a life

Free from vexation.

Enter Bellario

Bellario

Oh, wicked men!

An innocent may walk safe among beasts;

Nothing assaults me here. See, my griev'd lord

Sits as his soul were searching out a way

To leave his body! – Pardon me, that must

Break thy last commandment; for I must speak.

You that are griev'd can pity; hear, my lord!

Philaster

Is there a creature yet so miserable,

That I can pity?

Bellario

Oh, my noble lord,

View my strange fortune, and bestow on me,

According to your bounty (if my service

Can merit nothing), so much as may serve

To keep that little piece I hold of life

From cold and hunger!

Philaster

Is it thou? Be gone!

Go, sell those misbeseeming clothes thou wear'st,

And feed thyself with them.

Bellario

Alas, my lord, I can get nothing for them!

The silly country-people think 't is treason

To touch such gay things.

Philaster

Now, by the gods, this is

Unkindly done, to vex me with thy sight.

Th 'art fallen again to thy dissembling trade;

How shouldst thou think to cozen me again?

Remains there yet a plague untried for me?

Even so thou wept'st, and look'd'st, and spoke'st when first

I took thee up.

Curse on the time! If thy commanding tears

Can work on any other, use thy art;

I'll not betray it. Which way wilt thou take,

That I may shun thee, for thine eyes are poison

To mine, and I am loath to grow in rage?

This way, or that way?

Bellario

Any will serve; but I will choose to have

That path in chase that leads unto my grave.

Exeunt severally.

Enter [on one side] Dion, and [on the other] the Woodmen

Dion

This is the strangest sudden chance! – You, woodmen!

1 Woodman

My lord Dion?

Dion

Saw you a lady come this way on a sable horse studded with stars of white?

2 Woodman

Was she not young and tall?

Dion

Yes. Rode she to the wood or to the

plain?

2 Woodman

Faith, my lord, we saw none.

Exeunt Woodmen.

Dion

Pox of your questions then! Enter Cleremont What, is she found?

Cleremont

Nor will be, I think.

Dion

Let him seek his daughter himself. She cannot stray about a little necessary natural business, but the whole court must be in arms. When she has done, we shall have peace.

Cleremont

There's already a thousand fatherless

100

tales amongst us. Some say, her horse ran away with her; some, a wolf pursued her; others, 't was a plot to kill her, and that arm'd men were seen in the wood: but questionless she rode away willingly.

Enter King and Thrasiline

King

105

Where is she?

Cleremont

Sir, I cannot tell.

King

How's that?

Answer me so again!

Cleremont

Sir, shall I lie?

King

Yes, lie and damn, rather than tell me that.

I say again, where is she? Mutter not –

Sir, speak you; where is she?

Dion

Sir, I do not know.

King

110

Speak that again so boldly, and, by Heaven,

It is thy last! – You, fellows, answer me;

Where is she? Mark me, all; I am your king:

I wish to see my daughter; show her me;

I do command you all, as you are subjects,

115

To show her me! What! am I not your king?

If ay, then am I not to be obeyed?

Dion

Yes, if you command things possible and honest.

King

Things possible and honest! Hear me, thou, –

Thou traitor, that dar'st confine thy king to things

120

Possible and honest! Show her me,

Or, let me perish, if I cover not

All Sicily with blood!

Dion

Faith, I cannot,

Unless you tell me where she is.

King

You have betray'd me; you have let me lose

125

The jewel of my life. Go, bring her me.

And set her here before me. 'T is the king

Will have it so; whose breath can still the winds,

Uncloud the sun, charm down the swelling sea,

And stop the floods of heaven. Speak, can it not?

Dion

130

No.

King

No! cannot the breath of kings do this?

Dion

No; nor smell sweet itself, if once the lungs

Be but corrupted.

King

Is it so? Take heed!

Dion

Sir, take you heed how you dare the powers

That must be just.

King

Alas! what are we kings?

135

Why do you gods place us above the rest,

To be serv'd, flatter'd, and ador'd, till we

Believe we hold within our hands your thunder?

And when we come to try the power we have,

There's not a leaf shakes at our threatenings.

140

I have sinn'd, 't is true, and here stand to be punish'd;

Yet would not thus be punish'd. Let me choose

My way, and lay it on!

Dion

[Aside.] He articles with the gods. Would somebody would draw bonds for the

145

performance of covenants betwixt them!

Enter Pharamond, Galatea, and Megra

King

What, is she found?

Pharamond

No; we have ta'en her horse;

He gallop'd empty by. There is some treason.

You, Galatea, rode with her into

The wood. Why left you her?

Galatea

She did command me.

King

150

Command! you should not.

Galatea

'T would ill become my fortunes and my birth

To disobey the daughter of my king.

King

Y' are all cunning to obey us for our hurt;

But I will have her.

Pharamond

If I have her not,

155

By this hand, there shall be no more Sicily.

Dion

[Aside.]

What, will he carry it to Spain in 's pocket?

Pharamond

I will not leave one man alive, but the king,

A cook, and a tailor.

Dion

[Aside.] Yes; you may do well to spare

160

your lady-bedfellow; and her you may keep for a spawner.

King

[Aside.] I see the injuries I done must be reveng'd.

Dion

Sir, this is not the way to find her

165

out.

King

Run all, disperse yourselves. The man that finds her,

Or (if she be kill'd) the traitor, I'll make him great.

Dion

I know some would give five thousand pounds to find her.

Pharamond

Come, let us seek.

King

170

Each man a several way; here I myself.

Dion

Come, gentlemen, we here.

Cleremont

Lady, you must go search too.

Megra

I had rather be search'd myself.

Exeunt omnes.

[SCENE III]

[Another part of the Forest.]

Enter Arethusa

Arethusa

Where am I now? Feet, find me out a way,

Without the counsel of my troubled head.

I'll follow you boldly about these woods,

O'er mountains, thorough brambles, pits, and floods.

Heaven, I hope, will ease me: I am sick.

Sits down.

Enter Bellario

Bellario

[Aside.]

Yonder 's my lady. God knows I want nothing,

Because I do not wish to live; yet I

Will try her charity. – Oh hear, you that have plenty!

From that flowing store drop some on dry ground. – See,

The lively red is gone to guard her heart!

I fear she faints. – Madam, look up! – She breathes not. –

Open once more those rosy twins, and send

Unto my lord your latest farewell! – Oh, she stirs. –

How is it, Madam? Speak comfort.

Arethusa

'T is not gently done,

To put me in a miserable life,

And hold me there. I prithee, let me go;

I shall do best without thee; I am well.

Enter Philaster

Philaster

I am to blame to be so much in rage.

I'll tell her coolly when and where I heard

This killing truth. I will be temperate

I speaking, and as just in hearing. –

Oh, monstrous! Tempt me not, you gods! good gods,

Tempt not a frail man! What's he, that has a heart,

But he must ease it here!

Bellario

My lord, help, help! The princess!

Arethusa

I am well: forbear.

Philaster

[Aside.]

Let me love lightning, let me be embrac'd

And kiss'd by scorpions, or adore the eyes

Of basilisks, rather than trust the tongues

Of hell-bred women! Some good god look down,

And shrink these veins up! Stick me here a stone,

Lasting to ages in the memory

Of this damn'd act! – Hear me, you wicked ones!

You have put hills of fire into this breast,

Not to be quench'd with tears; for which may guilt

Sit on your bosoms! At your meals and beds

Despair await you! What, before my face?

Poison of asps between your lips! Diseases

Be your best issues! Nature make a curse,

And throw it on you!

Arethusa

Dear Philaster, leave

To be enrag'd, and hear me.

Philaster

I have done;

Forgive my passion. Not the calmed sea,

When Æolus locks up his windy brood,

Is less disturb'd than I. I'll make you know't.

Dear Arethusa, do but take this sword,

Offers his drawn sword.

And search how temperate a heart I have;

Then you and this your boy may live and reign

In lust without control. – Wilt thou, Bellario?

I prithee kill me; thou art poor, and may'st

Nourish ambitious thoughts; when I am dead,

Thy way were freer. Am I raging now?

If I were mad, I should desire to live.

Sirs, feel my pulse, whether you have known

A man in a more equal tune to die.

Bellario

Alas, my lord, your pulse keeps madman's time!

So does your tongue.

Philaster

You will not kill me, then?

Arethusa

Kill you?

Bellario

Not for the world.

Philaster

I blame not thee,

Bellario; thou hast done but that which gods

Would have transform'd themselves to do. Be gone,

Leave me without reply; this is the last

Of all our meetings –

(Exit Bellario.)

Kill me with this sword;

Be wise, or worse will follow: we are two

Earth cannot bear at once. Resolve to do,

Or suffer.

Arethusa

If my fortune be so good to let me fall

Upon thy hands, I shall have peace in death.

Yet tell me this, will there be no slanders,

No jealousy in the other world; no ill there?

Philaster

No.

Arethusa

Show me, then, the way.

Philaster

Then guide my feeble hand,

You that have power to do it, for I must

Perform a piece of justice! – If your youth

Have any way offended Heaven, let prayers

Short and effectual reconcile you to it.

Arethusa

I am prepared.

Enter a Country Fellow

Country Fellow

I'll see the king, if he be in the forest; I have hunted him these two hours. If I should come home and not see him, my sisters

would laugh at me. I can see nothing but people better hors'd than myself, that outride me; I can hear nothing but shouting. These kings had need of good brains; this whooping is able to put a mean man out of

his wits. There's a courtier with his sword drawn; by this hand, upon a woman, I think!

Philaster

Are you at peace?

Arethusa

With heaven and earth.

Philaster

May they divide thy soul and body!

Philaster wounds her.

Country Fellow

Hold, dastard! strike a woman!

Th' art a craven. I warrant thee, thou wouldst be loath to play half a dozen venies at wasters with a god fellow for a broken head.

Philaster

Leave us, good friend,

Arethusa

What ill-bred man art thou, to intrude thyself

Upon our private sports, our recreations?

Country Fellow

God 'uds me, I understand you not; but

I know the rogue has hurt you.

Philaster

Pursue thy own affairs: it will be ill

To multiply blood upon my head; which thou

100

Wilt force me to.

Country Fellow

I know not your rhetoric; but I can lay it on, if you touch the woman.

Philaster

Slave, take what thou deservest!

They fight.

Arethusa

Heaven guard my lord!

Country Fellow

Oh, do you breathe?

Philaster

105

I hear the tread of people. I am hurt.

The gods take part against me: could this boor

Have held me thus else? I must shift for life,

Though I do loathe it. I would find a course

To lose it rather by my will than force.

Exit.

Country Fellow

110

I cannot follow the rogue. I pray thee, wench, come and kiss me now.

Enter Pharamond, Dion, Cleremont, Thrasiline, and Woodmen

Pharamond

What art thou?

Country Fellow

Almost kill'd I am for a foolish woman; a knave has hurt her.

Pharamond

115

The princess, gentlemen! – Where's the wound, madam? Is it dangerous?

Arethusa

He has not hurt me.

Country Fellow

By God, she lies; h'as hurt her in the breast:

Look else.

Pharamond

O sacred spring of innocent blood!

Dion

120

'Tis above wonder! Who should dare this?

Arethusa

I felt it not.

Pharamond

Speak, villain, who has hurt the princess?

Country Fellow

Is it the princess?

Dion

Ay.

Country Fellow

125

Then I have seen something yet.

Pharamond

But who has hurt her?

Country Fellow

I told you, a rogue; I ne'er saw him before, I.

Pharamond

Madam, who did it?

Arethusa

Some dishonest wretch;

Alas, I know him not, and do forgive him!

Country Fellow

130

He's hurt too; he cannot go far;

I made my father's old fox fly about his ears.

Pharamond

How will you have me kill him?

Arethusa

Not at all; 't is some distracted fellow.

Pharamond

By this hand, I'll leave ne'er a piece

135

of him bigger than a nut, and bring him all to you in my hat.

Arethusa

Nay, good sir,

If you do take him, bring him quick to me,

And I will study for a punishment

140

Great as his fault.

Pharamond

I will.

Arethusa

But swear.

Pharamond

By all my love, I will. –

Woodmen, conduct the princess to the king,

And bear that wounded fellow to dressing. –

Come, gentlemen, we'll follow the chase close.

Exeunt [on one side] Pharamond, Dion, Cleremont, and Thrasiline; [exit on the other] Arethusa [attended by] 1 Woodman

Country Fellow

145

I pray you, friend, let me see the king.

2 Woodman

That you shall, and receive thanks.

Country Fellow

If I get clear of this, I'll go see no

150

more gay sights.

Exeunt.

[SCENE IV]

[Another part of the Forest.]

Enter Bellario

Bellario

A heaviness near death sits on my brow,

And I must sleep. Bear me, thou gentle bank,

For ever, if thou wilt. You sweet ones all,

[Lies down.]

Let me unworthy press you; I could wish

I rather were a corse strew'd o'er with you

Than quick above you. Dulness shuts mine eyes,

And I am giddy; oh, that I could take

So sound a sleep that I might never wake!

[Sleeps.]

Enter Philaster

Philaster

I have done ill; my conscience calls me false

To strike at her that would not strike at me.

When I did fight, methought I heard her pray

The gods to guard me. She may be abus'd,

And I a loathed villain; if she be,

She will conceal who hurt her. He has wounds

And cannot follow; neither knows he me.

Who's this? Bellario sleeping! If thou be'st

Guilty, there is no justice that thy sleep

Should be so sound, and mine, whom thou hast wrong'd,

So broken.

(Cry within.)

Hark! I am pursued. You gods,

I'll take this offer'd means of my escape.

They have no mark to know me by my blood,

If she be true; if false, let mischief light

On all the world at once! Sword, print my wounds

Upon this sleeping boy! I ha' none, I think,

Are mortal, nor would I lay greater on thee.

He wounds him.

Bellario

Oh, death, I hope, is come! Blest be that hand!

It meant me well. Again, for pity's sake!

Philaster

I have caught myself;

Falls.

The loss of blood hath stay'd my flight. Here, here,

Is he that struck thee: take thy full revenge;

Use me, as I did mean thee, worse than death;

I'll teach thee to revenge. This luckless hand

Wounded the princess; tell my followers

Thou didst receive these hurts in staying me,

And I will second thee; get a reward.

Bellario

Fly, fly, my lord and save yourself!

Philaster

How's this?

Wouldst thou I should be safe?

Bellario

Else were it vain

For me to live. These little wounds I have

Ha' not bled much. Reach me that noble hand;

I'll help to cover you.

Philaster

Art thou true to me?

Bellario

Or let me perish loath'd! Come, my good lord,

Creep in amongst those bushes; who does know

But that the gods may save your much-lov'd breath?

Philaster

Then I shall die for grief, if not for this,

That I have wounded thee. What wilt thou do?

Bellario

Shift for myself well. Peace! I hear 'em come.

[Philaster creeps into a bush.]

[Voices]

[within] Follow, follow, follow! that

way they went.

Bellario

With my own wounds I'll bloody my own sword.

I need not counterfeit to fall; Heaven knows

That I can stand no longer.

Falls.

Enter Pharamond, Dion, Cleremont, Thrasiline

Pharamond

To this place we have track'd him by his blood.

Cleremont

Yonder, my lord, creeps one away.

Dion

Stay, sir! what are you?

Bellario

A wretched creature, wounded in these woods

By beasts. Relieve me, if your names be me,

Or I shall perish.

Dion

This is he, my lord,

Upon my soul, that hurt her. 'T is the boy,

That wicked boy, that serv'd her.

Pharamond

Oh, thou damn'd

In thy creation! What cause couldst thou shape

To hurt the princess?

Bellario

Then I am betray'd.

Dion

Betray'd! No, apprehended.

Bellario

I confess

(Urge it no more) that, big with evil thoughts,

I set upon her, and did make my aim

Her death. For charity let fall at once

The punishment you mean, and do not load

This weary flesh with tortures.

Pharamond

I will know

Who hir'd thee to this deed.

Bellario

Mine own revenge.

Pharamond

Revenge! for what?

Bellario

It pleas'd her to receive

Me as her page and, when my fortunes ebb'd,

That men strid o'er them careless, she did shower

Her welcome graces on me, and did swell

My fortunes till they overflow'd their banks,

Threat'ning the men that cross'd 'em; when, as swift

As storms arise at sea, she turn'd her eyes

To burning suns upon me, and did dry

The streams she had bestow'd, leaving me worse

And more contemn'd than other little brooks,

Because I had been great. In short, I knew

I could not live, and therefore did desire

To die reveng'd.

Pharamond

If tortures can be found

Long as thy natural life, resolve to feel

The utmost rigour.

Philaster creeps out of a bush.

Cleremont

Help to lead him hence.

Philaster

Turn back, you ravishers of innocence!

Know ye the price of that you bear away

So rudely?

Pharamond

Who's that?

Dion

'T is the Lord Philaster.

Philaster

'T is not the treasure of all kings in one,

The wealth of Tagus, nor the rocks of pearl

That pave the court of Neptune, can weigh down

That virtue. It was I that hurt the princess.

Place me, some god, upon a pyramis

Higher than hills of earth, and lend a voice

Loud as your thunder to me, that from thence

I may discourse to all the under-world

The worth that dwells in him!

Pharamond

How's this?

Bellario

My lord, some man

Weary of life, that would be glad to die.

Philaster

Leave these untimely courtesies, Bellario.

Bellario

100

Alas, he's mad! Come, will you lead me on?

Philaster

By all the oaths that men ought most to keep,

And gods to punish most when men do break,

He touch'd her not. – Take heed, Bellario,

How thou dost drown the virtues thou hast shown

105

With perjury. – By all that's good, 't was I!

You know she stood betwixt me and my right.

Pharamond

Thy own tongue be thy judge!

Cleremont

It was Philaster.

Dion

Is 't not a brave boy?

Well, sirs, I fear me we were all deceived.

Philaster

110

Have I no friend here?

Dion

Yes.

Philaster

Then show it: some

Good body lend a hand to draw us nearer.

Would you have tears shed for you when you die?

Then lay me gently on his neck, that there

I may weep floods and breathe forth my spirit.

115

'T is not the wealth of Plutus, nor the gold.

[Embraces Bellario.]

Lock'd in the heart of earth, can buy away

This arm-full from me; this had been a ransom

To have redeem'd the great Augustus Cæsar,

Had he been taken. You hard-hearted men,

120

More stony than these mountains, can you see

Such clear pure blood drop, and not cut your flesh

To stop his life, to bind whose bitter wounds,

Queens ought to tear their hair, and with their tears

Bathe 'em? – Forgive me, thou that art the wealth

125

Of poor Philaster!

Enter King, Arethusa, and Guard

King

Is the villain ta'en?

Pharamond

Sir, here be two confess the deed; but sure

It was Philaster.

Philaster

Question it no more;

It was.

King

The fellow that did fight with him

130

Will tell us that.

Arethusa

Aye me! I know he will.

King

Did not you know him?

Arethusa

Sir, if it was he,

He was disguis'd.

Philaster

I was so. –

Aside.

Oh, my stars,

That I should live still.

King

Thou ambitious fool,

Thou that hast laid a train for thy own life! –

135

Now I do mean to do, I'll leave to talk.

Bear them to prison.

Arethusa

Sir, they did plot together to take hence

This harmless life; should it pass unreveng'd,

I should to earth go weeping. Grant me, then,

140

By all the love a father bears his child,

Their custodies, and that I may appoint

Their tortures and their deaths.

Dion

Death! Soft; our law will not reach that for this fault.

King

'T is granted; take 'em to you with a guard. –

145

Come, princely Pharamond, this business past,

We may with more security go on

To your intended match.

[Exeunt all except Dion, Ceremont, and Thrasiline.]

Cleremont

I pray that this action lose not Philaster the hearts of the people.

Dion

150

Fear it not; their over-wise heads will think it but a trick.

Exeunt.

Actus Quintus

Scena Prima

[Front Stage. Location indefinite.]

Enter Dion, Cleremont, and Thrasiline

Thrasiline

Has the king sent for him to death?

Dion

Yes; but the king must know 't is not in his power to war with Heaven.

Cleremont

We linger time; the king sent for Philaster

and the headsman an hour ago.

Thrasiline

Are all his wounds well?

Dion

All; they were but scratches; but the

ErrorMetrica

loss of blood made him faint.

Cleremont

We dally, gentlemen.

Thrasiline

Away!

Dion

We'll scuffle hard before he perish.

Exeunt.

[SCENE II]

[A prison.]

Enter Philaster, Arethusa, Bellario

Arethusa

Nay, faith, Philaster, grieve not; we are well.

Bellario

Nay, good my lord, forbear; we're wondrous well.

Philaster

Oh, Arethusa, oh, Bellario,

Leave to be kind!

I shall be shut from Heaven, as now from earth,

If you continue so. I am a man

False to a pair of the most trusty ones

That ever earth bore; can it bear us all?

Forgive, and leave me. But the king hath sent

To call me to my death: oh, show it me,

And then forget me! And for thee, my boy,

I shall deliver words will mollify

The hearts of beasts to spare thy innocence.

Bellario

Alas, my lord, my life is not a thing

Worthy your noble thoughts! 'T is not a life,

'T is but a piece of childhood thrown away.

Should I outlive you, I should then outlive

Virtue and honour; and when that day comes,

If ever I shall close these eyes but once,

May I live spotted for my perjury,

And waste by time to nothing!

Arethusa

And I ( the woful'st maid that ever was,

Forc'd with my hands to bring my lord to death)

Do by the honour of a virgin swear

To tell no hours beyond it!

Philaster

Make me not hated so.

Arethusa

Come from this prison all joyful to our deaths!

Philaster

People will tear me, when they find you true

To such a wretch as I; I shall die loath'd.

Enjoy your kingdoms peaceably, whilst I

For ever sleep forgotten with my faults.

Every just servant, every maid in love,

Will have a piece of me, if you be true.

Arethusa

My dear lord, say not so.

Bellario

A piece of you!

He was not born of woman that can cut

It and look on.

Philaster

Take me in tears betwixt you, for my heart

Will break with shame and sorrow.

Arethusa

Why 't is well.

Bellario

Lament no more.

Philaster

Why, what would you have done

If you had wrong'd me basely, and had found

My life no price compar'd to yours? For love, sirs,

Deal with me truly.

Bellario

'T was mistaken, sir.

Philaster

Why, if it were?

Bellario

Then, sir, we would have ask'd

You pardon.

Philaster

And have hope to enjoy it?

Arethusa

Enjoy it! ay.

Philaster

Would you indeed? Be plain.

Bellario

We would, my lord.

Philaster

Forgive me, then.

Arethusa

So, so.

Bellario

'T is as it should be now.

Philaster

Lead to my death.

Exeunt.

[SCENE III]

[The Palace.]

Enter King, Dion, Cleremont, Thrasiline [with a guard]

King

Gentlemen, who saw the prince?

Cleremont

So please you, sir, he's gone to see the city

And the new platform, with some gentlemen

Attending on him.

King

Is the princess ready

To bring her prisoner out?

Thrasiline

She waits your grace.

King

Tell her we stay.

[Exit Thrasiline.]

Dion

[Aside.]

King, you may be deceiv'd yet.

The head you aim at cost more setting on

Than to be lost so lightly. If it must off, –

Like a wild overflow, that swoops before him

A golden stack, and with it shakes down bridges,

Cracks the strong hearts of pines, whose cable-roots

Held out a thousand storms, a thousand thunders,

And, so made mightier, takes whole villages

Upon his back, and in that heat of pride

Charges strong towns, towers, castles, palaces,

And lays them desolate; so shall thy head,

Thy noble head, bury the lives of thousands,

That must bleed with thee like a sacrifice,

In thy red ruins.

Enter Philaster, Arethusa, Bellario in a robe and garland [and Thrasiline]

King

How now? What masque is this?

Bellario

Right royal sir, I should

Sing you an epithalamium of these lovers,

But having lost my best airs with my fortunes,

And wanting a celestial harp to strike

This blessed union on, thus in glad story

I give you all. These two fair cedar-branches,

The noblest of the mountain where they grew,

Straightest and tallest, under whose still shades

The worthier beasts have made their lairs, and slept

Free from the fervour of the Sirian star

And the fell thunder-stroke, free from the clouds

When they were big with humour and deliver'd

In thousand spouts their issues to the earth:

Oh, there was none but silent quiet there!

Till never-pleased Fortune shot up shrubs,

Base under-brambles, to divorce these branches;

And for a while they did so, and did reign

Over the mountain, and choke up his beauty

With brakes, rude thorns and thistles, till the sun

Scorch'd them even to the roots and dried them there.

And now a gentle gale hath blown again,

That made these branches meet and twine together,

Never to be unarm'd. The god that sings

His holy numbers over marriage-beds

Hath knit their noble hearts: and here they stand

Your children, mighty King; and I have done.

King

How, now?

Arethusa

Sir, if you love it in plain truth,

(For now there is no masquing in 't,) this gentleman,

The prisoner that you gave me, is become

My keeper, and through all the bitter throes

Your jealousies and his ill fate have wrought him,

Thus nobly hath he struggled, and at length

Arriv'd here my dear husband.

King

Your dear husband! –

Call in the captain of the citadel –

There you shall keep your wedding. I'll provide

A masque shall make your Hymen turn his saffron

Into a sullen coat, and sing sad requiems

To your departing souls.

Blood shall put out your torches; and, instead

Of gaudy flowers about your wanton necks,

An axe shall hang, like a prodigious meteor,

Ready to crop your loves' sweets. Hear, you gods!

From this time do I shake all title off

Of father to this woman, this base woman;

And what there is of vengeance in a lion

Chaf'd among dogs or robb'd of his dear young,

The same, enforc'd more terrible, more mighty,

Expect from me!

Arethusa

Sir, by that little life I have left to swear by,

There's nothing than can stir me from myself.

What I have done, I have done without repentance,

For death can be no bugbear unto me,

So long as Pharamond is not my headsman.

Dion

[Aside.]

Sweet peace upon thy soul, thou worthy maid,

Whene'er thou diest! For this time I'll excuse thee,

Or be thy prologue.

Philaster

Sir, let me speak next;

And let my dying words be better with you

Than my dull living actions. If you aim

At the dear life of this sweet innocent,

You are a tyrant and a savage monster,

That feeds upon the blood you gave a life to;

Your memory shall be as foul behind you,

As you are living; all your better deeds

Shall be in water writ, but this in marble;

No chronicle shall speak you, though your own,

But for the shame of men. No monument,

Though high and big as Pelion, shall be able

To cover this base murder: make it rich

With brass, with purest gold, and shining jasper,

Like the Pyramids; lay on epitaphs

Such as make great men gods; my little marble,

That only clothes my ashes, not my faults,

Shall far outshine it. And for after-issues,

Think not so madly of the heavenly wisdoms,

That they will give you more for your mad rage

To cut off, unless it be some snake, or something

Like yourself, that in his birth shall strangle you.

Remember my father, King! There was a fault.

But I forgive it. Let that sin persuade you

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To love this lady; if you have a soul,

Think, save her, and be saved. For myself,

I have so long expected this glad hour,

So languish'd under you, and daily wither'd,

That, Heaven knows, it is a joy to die:

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I find a recreation in 't.

Enter a Messenger

Messenger

Where's the king ?

King

Here.

Messenger

Get to your strength,

And rescue the Prince Pharamond from danger;

He's taken prisoner by the citizens,

Fearing the Lord Philaster.

Dion

[Aside.]

Oh, brave fellows!

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Mutiny, my fine dear countrymen, mutiny!

Now, my brave valiant foremen, show your weapons

In honour of your mistresses!

Enter another Messenger

2 Messenger

Arm, arm, arm, arm!

King

A thousand devils take these citizens!

Dion

115

[Aside.]

A thousand blessings on 'em!

2 Messenger

Arm, O King! The city is in mutiny,

Led by an old gray ruffian, who comes on

In rescue of the Lord Philaster.

King

Away to the citadel! I'll see them safe,

120

And then cope with these burghers. Let the guard

And all the gentlemen give strong attendance.

Exeunt all except Dion, Cleremont, and Thrasiline.

Cleremont

The city up! This was above our wishes.

Dion

Ay, and the marriage too. By my life,

This noble lady has deceiv'd us all.

125

A plague upon myself, a thousand plagues,

For having such unworthy thoughts of her dear honour!

Oh, I could beat myself! Or do you beat me,

And I'll beat you; for we had all one thought.

Cleremont

No, no, 't will but lose time.

Dion

130

You say true. Are your swords sharp? – Well, my dear countrymen. What-ye-lacks, if you continue, and fall not back upon the first broken shin, I'll have ye chronicled and chronicled, and cut and chronicled, and all-to

135

be-prais'd and sung in sonnets, and bawled in new brave ballads, that all tongues shall troll you in sæcula sæculorum, my kind can-carriers.

Thrasiline

What, if a toy take 'em i' th' heels now, and they run all away, and cry, "the

140

devil take the hindmost"?

Dion

Then the same devil take the foremost too, and souse him for his breakfast! If they all prove cowards, my curses fly among them, and be speeding! May they have murrains

145

reign to keep the gentlemen at home unbound in easy frieze! May the moths branch their velvets, and their silks only be worn before sore eyes! May their false lights undo 'em, and discover presses, holes, stains, and

150

oldness in their stuffs, and make them shop-rid! May they keep whores and horses, and break; and live mewed up with necks of beef and turnips! May they have many children, and none like the father! May they know no

155

language but that gibberish they prattle to their parcels, unless it be the goatish Latin they write in their bonds – and may they write that false, and lose their debts!

Enter the King

King

Now the vengeance of all the gods confound

160

them! How they swarm together! What a hum they raise! – Devils choke your wide throats! – If a man had need to use their valours, he must pay a brokage for it; and then bring 'em on, and they will fight like sheep.

165

'T is Philaster, none but Philaster, must allay this heat. They will not hear me speak, but fling dirt at me and call me tyrant. Oh, run, dear friend, and bring the Lord Philaster! Speak him fair; call him prince; do him all the courtesy

170

you can; commend me to him. Oh, my wits, my wits!

Exit Cleremont.

Dion

[Aside.] Oh, my brave citizens! as I live, I will not buy a pin out of your walls for this. Nay, you shall cozen me, and I'll

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thank you, and send you brawn and bacon, and soil you every long vacation a brace of foremen, that at Michaelmas shall come up fat and kicking.

King

What they will do with this poor

180

prince, the gods know, and I fear.

Dion

[Aside.] Why, sir, they'll flay him, and make church-buckets on 's skin, to quench rebellion; then clap a rivet in 's sconce, and hang him up for a sign.

Enter Cleremont with Philaster

King

185

Oh, worthy sir, forgive me! Do not make

Your miseries and my faults meet together,

To bring a greater danger. Be yourself,

Still sound amongst diseases. I have wrong'd you;

And though I find it last, and beaten to it,

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Let first your goodness know it. Calm the people,

And be what you were born to. Take your love,

And with her my repentance, all my wishes,

And all my prayers. By the gods, my heart speaks this;

And if the least fall from me not perform'd,

195

May I be struck with thunder!

Philaster

Mighty sir,

I will not do your greatness so much wrong,

As not to make your word truth. Free the princess

And the poor boy, and let me stand the shock

Of this mad sea-breach, which I'll either turn,

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Or perish with it.

King

Let your own word free them.

Philaster

Then thus I take my leave, kissing your hand,

And hanging on your royal word. Be kingly,

And be not mov'd, sir. I shall bring you peace

Or never bring myself back.

King

205

All the gods go with thee.

Exeunt omnes.

[SCENE IV]

[A Public Place.]

Enter an old Captain and Citizens with Pharamond

Captain

Come, my brave myrmidons, let us fall on.

Let your caps swarm, my boys, and your nimble tongues

Forget your mother-gibberish of "What do you lack?

And set your mouths ope, children, till your palates

Fall frighted half a fathom past the cure

Of bay-salt and gross pepper, and then cry

"Philaster, brave Philaster!" Let Philaster

Be deeper in request, my ding-dongs,

My pairs of dear indentures, kings of clubs,

Than your cold water-camlets, or your paintings

Spitted with copper. Let not your hasty silks,

Or your branch'd cloth of bodkin, or your tissues,

Dearly belov'd of spiced cake and custards,

Your Robin Hoods, Scarlets, and Johns, tie your affections

In darkness to your shops. No, dainty duckers,

Up with your three-pil'd spirits, your wrought valours;

And let your uncut cholers make the king feel

The measure of your mightiness. Philaster!

Cry, my rose-nobles, cry!

All

Philaster! Philaster!

Captain

How do you like this, my Lord Prince?

These are mad boys, I tell you; these are things

That will not strike their top-sails to a foist,

And let a man of war, an argosy,

Hull and cry cockles.

Pharamond

Why, you rude slave, do you know what you do?

Captain

My pretty prince of puppets, we do know;

And give your greatness warning that you talk

No more such bug's-words, or that solder'd crown

Shall be scratch'd with a musket. Dear prince Pippin,

Down with your noble blood, or, as I live,

I'll have you coddled. – Let him loose, my spirits:

Make us a round ring with your bills, my Hectors,

And let us see what this trim man dares do.

Now, sir, have at you! here I lie;

And with this swashing blow (do you see, sweet prince?)

I could hulk your grace, and hang you up cross-legg'd,

Like a hare at a poulter's, and do this with this wiper.

Pharamond

You will not see me murder'd, wicked villains?

1 Citizen

Yes, indeed, will we, sir; we have not seen one

For a great while.

Captain

He would have weapons, would he?

Give him a broadside, my brave boys, with your pikes;

Branch me his skin in flowers like a satin,

And between every flower a mortal cut. –

Your royalty shall ravel! – Jag him, gentlemen;

I'll have him cut to the kell, then down the seams.

O for a whip to make him galloon-laces!

I'll have a coach-whip.

Pharamond

Oh, spare me, gentlemen!

Captain

Hold, hold;

The man begins to fear and know himself.

He shall for this time only be seel'd up,

With a feather through his nose, that he may only

See heaven, and think whither he is going.

Nay, my beyond-sea sir, we will proclaim you:

You would be king!

Thou tender heir apparent to a church-ale,

Thou slight prince of single sarcenet,

Thou royal ring-tail, fit to fly at nothing

But poor men's poultry, and have every boy

Beat thee from that too with his bread and butter!

Pharamond

Gods keep me from these hell-hounds!

1 Citizen

Shall's geld him, captain?

Captain

No, you shall spare his dowcets, my dear donsels;

As you respect the ladies, let them flourish.

The curses of a longing woman kill

As speedy as a plague, boys.

1 Citizen

I'll have a leg, that's certain.

2 Citizen

I'll have an arm.

3 Citizen

I'll have his nose, and at mine own charge build

A college and clap 't upon the gate.

4 Citizen

I'll have his little gut to string a kit with;

For certainly a royal gut will sound like silver.

Pharamond

Would they were in thy belly, and I past

My pain once!

5 Citizen

Good captain, let me have his liver to feed ferrets.

Captain

Who will have parcels else? Speak.

Pharamond

Good gods, consider me! I shall be tortur'd.

1 Citizen

Captain, I'll give you the trimming of your two-hand sword,

And let me have his skin to make false scabbards.

2 Citizen

He had no horns, sir, had he?

Captain

No, sir, he's a pollard.

What wouldst thou do with horns?

2 Citizen

Oh, if he had had,

I would have made rare hafts and whistles of 'em:

But is shin-bones, if they be sound, shall serve me.

Enter Philaster

All

Long live Philaster, the brave Prince Philaster!

Philaster

I thank you, gentlemen. But why are these

Rude weapons brought abroad, to teach your hands

Uncivil trades?

Captain

My royal Rosicleer,

We are thy myrmidons, thy guard, thy roarers;

And when thy noble body is in durance,

Thus do we clap our musty morions on,

And trace the streets in terror. Is it peace,

Thou Mars of men? Is the king sociable,

And bids thee live? Art thou above thy foe-men,

And free as Pœbus? Speak. If not, this stand

Of royal blood shall be abroach, a-tilt,

And run even to the lees of honour.

Philaster

Hold, and be satisfied. I am myself,

Free as my thoughts are; by the gods, I am!

Captain

Art thou the dainty darling of the king?

100

Art thou the Hylas to our Hercules?

Do the lords bow, and the regarded scarlets

Kiss their gumm'd golls, and cry, "We are your servants"?

Is the court navigable and the presence stuck

With flags of friendship? If not, we are thy castle,

105

And this man sleeps.

Philaster

I am what I desire to be, your friend;

I am what I was born to be, your prince.

Pharamond

Sir, there is some humanity in you;

You have a noble soul. Forget my name,

110

And know my misery; set me safe aboard

From these wild cannibals, and as I live,

I'll quit this land for ever. There is nothing, –

Perpetual prisonment, cold, hunger, sickness

Of all sorts, of all dangers, and all together,

115

The worst company of the worst men, madness, age,

To be as many creatures as a woman,

And do as all they do, nay, to despair, –

But I would rather make it a new nature,

And live with all these, than endure one hour

120

Amongst these wild dogs.

Philaster

I do pity you. – Friends, discharge your fears;

Deliver me the prince. I'll warrant you

I shall be old enough to find my safety.

3 Citizen

Good sir, take heed he does not hurt you;

125

He is a fierce man, I can tell you, sir.

He strives.

Captain

Prince, by your leave, I'll have a surcingle,

And mail you like a hawk.

Philaster

Away, away, there is no danger in him:

Alas, he had rather sleep to shake his fit off!

130

Look you, friends, how gently he leads! Upon my word,

He's tame enough, he needs no further watching.

Good my friends, go to your houses,

And by me have your pardons and my love;

And know there shall be nothing in my power

135

You may deserve, but you shall have your wishes.

To give you more thanks, were to flatter you:

Continue still your love; and for an earnest,

Drink this.

[Gives money.]

All

Long mayst thou live, brave prince, brave prince, brave prince!

Exeunt Philaster and Pharamond.

Captain

140

Go thy ways, thou art the king of courtesy!

Fall off again, my sweet youths. Come,

And every man trace to his house again,

And hang his pewter up; then to the tavern,

And bring your wives in muffs. We will have music;

145

And the red grape shall make us dance and rise, boys.

Exeunt.

[SCENE V]

[The Palace.]

Enter King, Arethusa, Galatea, Megra, Dion, Cleremont, Thrasiline, Bellario, and Attendants

King

Is it appeas'd?

Dion

Sir, all is quiet as this dead of night,

As peaceable as sleep. My lord Philaster

Brings on the prince himself.

King

Kind gentleman!

I will not break the least word I have given

In promise to him. I have heap'd a world

Of grief upon his head, which yet I hope

To wash away.

Enter Philaster and Pharamond

Cleremont

My lord is come.

King

My son!

Blest be the time that I have leave to call

Such virtue mine! Now thou art in mine arms,

Methinks I have a salve unto my breast

For all the stings that dwell there. Streams of grief

That I have wrong'd thee, and as much of joy

That I repent it, issue from mine eyes;

Let them appease thee. Take thy right; take her;

She is thy right too; and forget to urge

My vexed soul with that I did before.

Philaster

Sir, it is blotted from my memory,

Past and forgotten. – For you, prince of Spain,

Whom I have thus redeem'd, you have full leave

To make an honourable voyage home.

And if would go furnish'd to your realm

With fair provision, I do see a lady,

Methinks, would gladly bear you company.

How like you this piece?

Megra

Sir, he likes it well,

For he hath tried it, and hath found it worth

His princely liking. We were ta'en abed;

I know your meaning. I am not the first

That nature taught to seek a fellow forth.

Can shame remain perpetually in me,

And not in others? Or have princes salves

To cure ill names, that meaner people want?

Philaster

What mean you?

Megra

You must get another ship,

To bear the princess and her boy together.

Dion

How now!

Megra

Others took me, and I took her and him

At that all women may be ta'en sometime.

Ships us all four, my lord; we can endure

Weather and wind alike.

King

Clear thou thyself, or know not me for father.

Arethusa

This earth, how false it is! What means is left for me

To clear myself? It lies in your belief.

My lords, believe me; and let all things else

Struggle together to dishonour me.

Bellario

Oh, stop your ears, great King, that I may speak

As freedom would! Then I will call this lady

As base as are her actions. Here me, sir;

Believe your heated blood when it rebels

Against your reason, sooner than this lady.

Megra

By this good light, he bears it handsomely.

Philaster

This lady! I will sooner trust the wind

With feathers, or the troubled sea with pearl,

Than her with anything. Believe her not.

Why, think you, if I did believe her words,

I would outlive 'em? Honour cannot take

Revenge on you; then what were to be known

But death?

King

Forget her, sir, since all is knit

Between us. But I must request of you

One favour, and will sadly be denied.

Philaster

Command, whate'er it be.

King

Swear to be true

To what you promise.

Philaster

By the powers above,

Let it not be the death of her or him,

And it is granted!

King

Bear away that boy

To torture; I will have her clear'd or buried.

Philaster

Oh, let me call my word back, worthy sir!

Ask something else: bury my life and right

In one poor grave; but do not take away

My life and fame at once.

King

Away with him! It stands irrevocable.

Philaster

Turn all your eyes on me. Here stands a man,

The falsest and the basest of this world.

Set swords against this breast, some honest man,

For I have liv'd till I am pitied!

My former deeds were hateful; but this last

Is pitiful, for I unwillingly

Have given the dear preserver of my life

Unto his torture. Is it in the power

Of flesh and blood to carry this, and live?

Offers to kill himself.

Arethusa

Dear sir, be patient yet! Oh, stay that hand!

King

Sirs, strip that boy.

Dion

Come, sir; your tender flesh

Will try your constancy.

Bellario

Oh, kill me, gentlemen!

Dion

No. – Help, sirs.

Bellario

Will you torture me?

King

Haste there;

Why stay you?

Bellario

Then I shall not break my vow,

You know, just gods, though I discover all.

King

How's that? Will he confess?

Dion

Sir, so he says.

King

Speak then.

Bellario

Great King, if you command

This lord to talk with me alone, my tongue

Urg'd by my heart, shall utter all the thoughts

My youth hath known; and stranger things than these

You hear not often.

King

Walk aside with him.

[Dion and Bellario walk apart.]

Dion

Why speak'st thou not?

Bellario

Know you this face, my lord?

Dion

No.

Bellario

Have you not seen it, nor the like?

Dion

Yes, I have seen the like, but readily

I know not where.

Bellario

I have been often told

In court of one Euphrasia, a lady,

And daughter to you; betwixt whom and me

(They that would flatter my bad face would swear)

There was such strange resemblance, that we two

Could not be known asunder, dress'd alike.

Dion

100

By Heaven, and so there is!

Bellario

For her fair sake,

Who now doth spend the spring-time of her life

In holy pilgrimage, move to the king,

That I may scape this torture.

Dion

But thou speak'st

As like Euphrasia as thou dost look.

105

How came it to thy knowledge that she lives

In pilgrimage?

Bellario

I know it not, my lord;

But I have heard it, and do scarce believe it.

Dion

Oh, my shame! is 't possible? Draw near,

That I may gaze upon thee. Art thou she,

110

Or else her murderer? Where wert thou born?

Bellario

In Syracusa.

Dion

What's thy name?

Bellario

Euphrasia.

Dion

Oh, 't is just, 't is she!

Now I do know thee. Oh, that thou hadst died,

And I had never seen thee nor my shame!

115

How shall I own thee? Shall this tongue of mine

E'er call thee daughter more?

Bellario

Would I had died indeed! I wish it too;

And so I must have done by vow, ere publish'd

What I have told, but that there was no means

120

To hide it longer. Yet I joy in this,

The princess is all clear.

King

What, have you done?

Dion

All is discover'd.

Philaster

Why then hold you me?

All is discover'd! Pray you, let me go.

He offers to stab himself.

King

Stay him.

Arethusa

What is discover'd?

Dion

Why, my shame.

125

It is a woman; let her speak the rest.

Philaster

How? That again!

Dion

It is a woman.

Philaster

Blest be you powers that favour innocence!

King

Lay hold upon that lady.

[Megra is seized.]

Philaster

It is a woman, sir! – Hark, gentlemen,

130

It is a woman! – Arethusa, take

My soul into thy breast, that would be gone

With joy. It is a woman! Thou art fair,

And virtuous still to ages, in despite

Of malice.

King

135

Speak you, where lies his shame?

Bellario

I am his daughter.

Philaster

The gods are just.

Dion

I dare accuse none; but, before you two,

The virtue of our age, I bend my knee

For mercy.

[Kneels.]

Philaster

Take it freely; for I know,

140

Though what thou didst were undiscreetly done,

'T was meant well.

Arethusa

And for me,

I have a power to pardon sins, as oft

As any man has power to wrong me.

Cleremont

Noble and worthy!

Philaster

But, Bellario,

145

(For I must call thee still so,) tell me why

Thou didst conceal thy sex. It was a fault,

A fault, Bellario, though thy other deeds

Of truth outweigh'd it: all these jealousies

Had flown to nothing if thou hadst discover'd

150

What now we know.

Bellario

My father oft would speak

Your worth and virtue; and, as I did grow

More and more apprehensive, I did thirst

To see the man so prais'd. But yet all his

Was but a maiden-longing, to be lost

155

As soon as found; till, sitting in my window,

Printing my thoughts in lawn, I saw a god,

I thought, (but it was you,) enter our gates.

My blood flew out and back again, as fast

As I had puff'd it forth and suck'd it in

160

Like breath. Then was I call'd away in haste

To entertain you. Never was a man,

Heav'd from a sheep-cote to a sceptre, rais'd

So high in thoughts as I. You left a kiss

Upon these lips then, which I mean to keep

165

From you for ever. I did hear you talk,

Far above singing. After you were gone,

I grew acquainted with my heart, and search'd

What stirr'd it so: alas, I found it love!

Yet far from lust; for, could I but have liv'd

170

In presence of you, I had had my end.

For this I did delude my noble father

With a feign'd pilgrimage, and dress'd myself

In habit of a boy; and, for I knew

My birth no match for you, I was past hope

175

Of having you; and, understanding well

Than when I made discovery of my sex

I could not stay with you, I made a vow,

By all the most religious things a maid

Could call together, never to be known,

180

Whilst there was hope to hide me from men's eyes,

For other than I seem'd, that I might ever

Abide with you. Then sat I by the fount,

Where first you took me up.

King

Search out a match

Within our kingdom, where and when thou wilt,

185

And I will pay thy dowry; and thyself

Wilt well deserve him.

Bellario

Never, sir, will I

Marry; it is a thing within my vow:

But, if I may have leave to serve the princess,

To see the virtues of her lord and her,

190

I shall have hope to live.

Arethusa

I, Philaster,

Cannot be jealous, though you had a lady

Dress'd like a page to serve you; nor will I

Suspect her living here. – Come, live with me;

Live free as I do. She that loves my lord,

195

Curs'd be the wife that hates her!

Philaster

I grieve such virtue should be laid in earth

Without an heir. – Hear me, my royal father:

Wrong not the freedom of our souls so much,

To think to take revenge of that base woman;

200

Her malice cannot hurt us. Set her free

As she was born, saving from shame and sin.

King

Set her at liberty. – But leave the court;

This is no place for such. – You, Pharamond,

Shall have free passage, and a conduct home

205

Worthy so great a prince. When you come there,

Remember 't was your faults that lost you her,

And not my purpos'd will.

Pharamond

I do confess,

Renowed sir.

King

Last, join your hands in one. Enjoy, Philaster,

210

This kingdom, which is yours, and, after me,

Whatever I call mine. My blessing on you!

All happy hours be at your marriage-joys,

That you may grow yourselves over all lands,

And live to see your plenteous branches spring

215

Wherever there is sun! Let princes learn

By this to rule the passions of their blood;

For what Heaven wills can never be withstood.

Exeunt omnes.