_Clown_. Nay, 'twill be farre from a match, that's certaine; but it will
make us to be taken for men of note, what company soever we come in.
The Souldier and the Scholler, peekt up so,
Will make _tam Marti quam Mercurio_.
[_Exeunt_.
(SCENE 3.)
_Enter the King, Antony, Damianus, and Cosmo;
Victoria meetes the King_.
_Vict_. As you are Vice-gerent to that Maiesty
By whom Kings reigne on earth, as you would wish
Your heires should sit upon your Throne, your name
Be mentioned in the Chronicle of glory;
Great King, vouchsafe me hearing.
_King_. Speake.
_Vict_. My husband,
The much, too much wrong'd _Bellizarius_,
Hath not deserv'd the measure of such misery
Which is throwne on him. Call, oh call to minde
His service, how often he hath fought
And toyl'd in warres to give his Country peace.
He has not beene a flatterer of the Time,
Nor Courted great ones for their glorious Vices;
He hath not sooth'd blinde dotage in the World,
Nor caper'd on the Common-wealths dishonour;
He has not peeld the rich nor flead the poore,
Nor from the heart-strings of the Commons drawne
Profit to his owne Coffers; he never brib'd
The white intents of mercy; never sold
Iustice for money, to set up his owne
And utterly undoe whole families.
Yet some such men there are that have done thus:
The mores the pitty.
_King_. To the poynt.
_Vict_. Oh, Sir,
_Bellizarius_ has his wounds emptied of blood,
Both for his Prince and Countrey: to repeat
Particulars were to do iniury
To your yet mindfull gratitude. His Life,
His liberty, 'tis that I plead for--that;
And since your enemies and his could never
Captive the one and triumph in the other,
Let not his friends--his King--commend a cruelty,
Strange to be talkt of, cursed to be acted.
My husband, oh! my husband _Bellizarius_,
For him I begge.
_King_. Lady, rise up; we will be gracious
To thy suit,--Cause _Bellizarius_
And the Bishop be brought hither instantly.
[_Exit for him_.
_Vict_. Now all the blessings due to a good King
Crowne you with lasting honours.
_King_. If thou canst
Perswade thy husband to recant his errours,
He shall not onely live, but in our favoures
Be chiefe. Wilt undertake it?
_Vict_. Undertake it, Sir,
On these conditions? You shall your selfe
Be witnesse with what instance I will urge him
To pitty his owne selfe, recant his errours.
_Anton_. So doing he will purchase many friends.
_Dam_. Life, love, and liberty.
_Vict_. But tell me, pray, Sir;
What are those errours which he must recant?
_King_. His hatred to those powers to which we bow,
On whom we all depend, he has kneel'd to them;
Let him his base Apostacy recant,
Recant his being a Christian, and recant
The love he beares to Christians.
_Vict_. If he deny
To doe all this, or any poynt of this,
Is there no mercy for him?
_King_. Couldst thou shed
A Sea of teares to drowne my resolution,
He dyes; could this fond man lay at my foote
The kingdomes of the earth, he dyes; he dyes
Were he my sonne, my father. Bid him recant,
Else all the Torments cruelty can invent
Shall fall on him.
_Vict_. No sparke of pitty?
_King_. None.
_Vict_. Well, then, but mark what paines Ile take to winne him,
To winne him home; Ile set him in a way
The Clouds shall clap to finde what went astray.
_Anton_. Doe this, and we are all his.
_King_. Doe this, I sweare to jewell him in my bosome.
--See where he comes.
_Enter Epidophorus with Bellizarius and Eugenius_.
_Belliz_. And whither now? Is Tyranny growne ripe
To blow us to our graves yet?
_King_. _Bellizarius_,
Thy wife has s'ud for mercy, and has found it;
Speake, Lady, tell him how.
_Belliz_. _Victoria_ too!
Oh, then I feare the striving to expresse
The virtue of a good wife hath begot
An utter ruine of all goodnesse in thee.
What wou'dst thou say, poore woman?
My Lord the King,
Nothing can alter your incensed rage
But recantation?
_King_. Nothing.
_Vict_. Recantation! sweet
Musicke; _Bellizarius_, thou maist live;
The King is full of royall bounty--like
The ambition of mortality--examine;
That recantation is--a toy.
_King_. None hinder her; now ply him.
_Vict_. To lose the portage[168] in these sacred pleasures
That knowes no end; to lose the fellowship
Of Angels; lose the harmony of blessings
Which crowne all Martyrs with eternity!
Wilt thou not recant?
_King_. I understand her not.
_Omnes_. Nor I.
_Vict_. Thy life hath hitherto beene, my dear husband,
But a disease to thee; thou hast indeed
Mov'd on the earth like other creeping wormes
Who take delight in worldly surfeits, heate
Their blood with lusts, their limbes with proud attyres;
Fe[e]d on their change of sinnes; that doe not use
Their pleasure[s] but enjoy them, enjoy them fully
In streames that are most sensuall and persever
To live so till they die, and to die never[169].
_King_. What meanes all this?
_Anton_. Art in thy right wits, woman?
_Vict_. Such beasts are those about thee; take then courage;
If ever in thy youth thy soule hath set
By the Worlds tempting fires, as these men doe,
Recant that errour.
_King_. Ha!
_Vict_. Hast thou in battaile tane a pride in blood?
Recant that errour. Hast thou constant stood
In a bad cause? clap a new armour on
And fight now in a good. Oh lose not heaven
For a few minutes in a Tyrants eye;
Be valiant and meete death: if thou now losest
Thy portion laid up for thee yonder, yonder,
For breath or honours here, oh thou dost sell
Thy soule for nothing. Recant all this,
And then be rais'd up to a Throne of blis.
_Anton_. We are abus'd, stop her mouth.
_Belliz_. _Victoria_,
Thou nobly dost confirme me, hast new arm'd
My resolution, excellent _Victoria_.
_Eugen_. Oh happy daughter, thou in this dost bring
That _Requiem_ to our soules which Angels sing.
_Dam_. Can you endure this wrong, Sir?
_Cosmo_. Be out-brav'd by a seducing Strumpet?
_King_. Binde her fast;
Weele try what recantation you can make.
Hagge, in the presence of your brave holy Champion
And thy Husband,
One of my Cammell drivers shall take from thee
The glory of thy honesty and honour.
Call in the Peasant.
_Vict_. _Bellizarius_,
_Eugenius_, is there no guard above us
That will protect me from a rape? 'tis worse
Than worlds of tortures.
_Eugen_. Fear not, _Victoria_;
Be thou a chaste one in thy minde, thy body
May like a Temple of well tempered steele
Be batter'd, not demolishe'd.
_Belliz_. Tyrant, be mercifull;
And if thou hast no other vertue in thee
Deserving memory to succeeding ages,
Yet onely thy not suffering such an out-rage
Shall adde praise to thy name.
_King_. Where is the Groome?
_Eugen_. Oh sure the Sunne will darken
And not behold a deed so foule and monstrous.
_Enter Epidophorus with a Slave_.
_Epi_. Here is the Cammell driver.
_Omnes_. Stand forth, sirrah.
_Epi_. Be bould and shrink not; this is she.
1 _Cam_. And I am hee. Is't the kings pleasure that
I should mouse[170] her, and before all these people?
_King_. No; 'tis considered better; unbinde the fury
And dragge her to some corner; 'tis our pleasure,
Fall to thy businesse freely.
1 _Cam_. Not too freely neither: I fare hard and drinke water; so doe
the _Indians_, yet who fuller of Bastards? so doe the _Turkes_, yet who
gets greater Logger-heads? Come, wench; Ile teach thee how to cut up
wild fowle.
_Vict_. Guard me, you heavens.
_Belliz_. Be mine eyes lost for ever.