_Arb_.
Why I would have thee get my Sister for me?
Thou understandst me, in a wicked manner.
_Bes_.
O you would have a bout with her?
I'le do't, I'le do't, I'faith.
_Arb_.
Wilt thou, do'st thou make no more on't? Bes. More? no, why is
there any thing else? if there be, it shall be done too.
_Arb_.
Hast thou no greater sense of such a sin?
Thou art too wicked for my company,
Though I have hell within me, thou may'st yet
Corrupt me further: pray thee answer me,
How do I shew to thee after this motion?
_Bes_.
Why your Majesty looks as well in my opinion, as ever you did
since you were born.
_Arb_.
But thou appear'st to me after thy grant,
The ugliest, loathed detestable thing
That I ever met with. Thou hast eyes
Like the flames of _Sulphur_, which me thinks do dart
Infection on me, and thou hast a mouth
Enough to take me in where there do stand
Four rows of Iron Teeth.
_Bes_.
I feel no such thing, but 'tis no matter how I look, Pie do my
business as well as they that look better, and when this is
dispatch'd, if you have a mind to your Mother, tell me, and you
shall see I'le set it hard.
_Arb_.
My Mother! Heaven forgive me to hear this,
I am inspir'd with horrour: now I hate thee
Worse than my sin, which if I could come by
Should suffer death Eternal ne're to rise
In any breast again. Know I will die
Languishing mad, as I resolve, I shall,
E're I will deal by such an instrument:
Thou art too sinful to imploy in this;
Out of the World, away.
_Bes_.
What do you mean, Sir?
_Arb_.
Hung round with Curses, take thy fearful flight
Into the Desarts, where 'mongst all the Monsters
If thou find'st one so beastly as thy self,
Thou shalt be held as innocent.
_Bes_.
Good Sir.
_Arb_.
If there were no such instruments as thou,
We Kings could never act such wicked deeds:
Seek out a man that mocks Divinity,
That breaks each precept both of God and man,
And natures too, and does it without lust,
Meerly because it is a law, and good,
And live with him: for him thou canst not spoil.
Away I say, I will not do this sin.
[_Exit_ Bessus.
I'le press it here, till it do break my breast,
It heaves to get out, but thou art a sin,
And spight of torture I will keep thee in.
_ACTUS QUARTUS_.
_Enter_ Gobrias, Panthea, _and_ Spaconia.
_Gob_.
Have you written Madam?
_Pan_.
Yes, good _Gobrias_.
_Gob_.
And with a kindness, and such winning words
As may provoke him, at one instant feel
His double fault, your wrong, and his own rashness?
_Pan_.
I have sent words enough, if words may win him
From his displeasure; and such words I hope,
As shall gain much upon his goodness, _Gobrias_.
Yet fearing they are many, and a womans,
A poor belief may follow, I have woven
As many truths within 'em to speak for me,
That if he be but gracious, and receive 'em--
_Gob_.
Good Lady be not fearful, though he should not
Give you your present end in this, believe it,
You shall feel, if your vertue can induce you
To labour on't, this tempest which I know,
Is but a poor proof 'gainst your patience:
All those contents, your spirit will arrive at,
Newer and sweeter to you; your Royal brother,
When he shall once collect himself, and see
How far he has been asunder from himself;
What a meer stranger to his golden temper:
Must from those roots of vertue, never dying,
Though somewhat stopt with humour, shoot again
Into a thousand glories, bearing his fair branches
High as our hopes can look at, straight as justice,
Loaden with ripe contents; he loves you dearly,
I know it, and I hope I need not farther
Win you to understand it.
_Pan_.
I believe it.
But howsoever, I am sure I love him dearly:
So dearly, that if any thing I write
For my enlarging should beget his anger,
Heaven be a witness with me and my faith,
I had rather live intomb'd here.
_Gob_.
You shall not feel a worse stroke than your grief,
I am sorry 'tis so sharp, I kiss your hand,
And this night will deliver this true story,
With this hand to your Brother.
_ Pan._
Peace go with you, you are a good man.
[_Exit_ Gob.
My _Spaconia_, why are you ever sad thus?
_Spa_.
O dear Lady.
_Pan_.
Prethee discover not a way to sadness,
Nearer than I have in me, our two sorrows
Work like two eager Hawks, who shall get highest;
How shall I lessen thine? for mine I fear
Is easier known than cur'd.
_Spa_.
Heaven comfort both,
And give you happy ends, however I
Fall in my stubborn fortunes.
_Pan_.
This but teaches
How to be more familiar with our sorrows,
That are too much our masters: good _Spaconia_
How shall I do you service?
_Spa_.
Noblest Lady,
You make me more a slave still to your goodness,
And only live to purchase thanks to pay you,
For that is all the business of my life: now
I will be bold, since you will have it so,
To ask a noble favour of you.
_Pan_.
Speak it, 'tis yours, for from so sweet a vertue,
No ill demand has issue.
_Spa_.
Then ever vertuous, let me beg your will
In helping me to see the Prince _Tigranes_,
With whom I am equal prisoner, if not more.
_Pan_.
Reserve me to a greater end _Spaconia_;
_Bacurius_ cannot want so much good manners
As to deny your gentle visitation,
Though you came only with your own command.
_Spa_.
I know they will deny me gracious Madam,
Being a stranger, and so little fam'd,
So utter empty of those excellencies
That tame Authority; but in you sweet Lady,
All these are natural; beside, a power
Deriv'd immediate from your Royal brother,
Whose least word in you may command the Kingdom.
_Pan_.
More than my word _Spaconia_, you shall carry,
For fear it fail you.
_Spa_.
Dare you trust a Token?
Madam I fear I am grown too bold a begger.
_Pan_.
You are a pretty one, and trust me Lady
It joyes me, I shall do a good to you,
Though to my self I never shall be happy:
Here, take this Ring, and from me as a Token
Deliver it; I think they will not stay you:
So all your own desires go with you Lady.
_Spa_.
And sweet peace to your Grace.
_Pan_.
Pray Heaven I find it.
[_Exeunt_.
_Enter_ Tigranes, _in prison_.
_Tigr_.
Fool that I am, I have undone my self,
And with my own hand turn'd my fortune round,
That was a fair one: I have childishly
Plaid with my hope so long, till I have broke it,
And now too late I mourn for't; O _Spaconia_!
Thou hast found an even way to thy revenge now,
Why didst thou follow me like a faint shadow,
To wither my desires? But wretched fool,
Why did I plant thee 'twixt the Sun and me,
To make me freeze thus? Why did I prefer her
To the fair Princess? O thou fool, thou fool,
Thou family of fools, live like a slave still,
And in thee bear thine own hell and thy torment,
Thou hast deserv'd: Couldst thou find no Lady
But she that has thy hopes to put her to,
And hazard all thy peace? None to abuse,
But she that lov'd thee ever? poor _Spaconia_,
And so much lov'd thee, that in honesty
And honour thou art bound to meet her vertues:
She that forgot the greatness of her grief
And miseries, that must follow such mad passions,
Endless and wild as women; she that for thee
And with thee left her liberty, her name,
And Country, you have paid me equal, Heavens,
And sent my own rod to correct me with;
A woman: for inconstancy I'le suffer,
Lay it on justice, till my soul melt in me
For my unmanly, beastly, sudden doting
Upon a new face: after all my oaths
Many and strange ones,
I feel my old fire flame again and burn
So strong and violent, that should I see her
Again, the grief and that would kill me.
_Enter_ Bacurius _And_ Spaconia.
_Bac_.
Lady, your token I acknowledge, you may pass;
There is the King.
_Spa_.