Francis Beaumont and John Fletcher

* * * * *

_The Scene being in_ Cicilie.

* * * * *

Persons Represented in the Play.

_The_ King.

Philaster, _Heir to the Crown_.

Pharamond, _Prince of_ Spain.

Dion, _a Lord_.

Cleremont } _Noble Gentlemen his_

Thrasiline } _Associates_.

Arethusa, _the King's Daughter_.

Galatea, _a wise modest Lady attending the Princess_.

Megra, _a lascivious Lady_.

_An old wanton Lady, or Croan_.

_Another Lady attending the Princess_.

Eufrasia, _Daughter of Dion, but disguised like a

Page, and called Bellario_.

_An old Captain_.

_Five Citizens_.

_A Countrey fellow_.

_Two Woodmen_.

_The Kings Guard and Train_.

* * * * *

Actus primus. Scena prima.

_Enter Dion, Cleremont, _and_ Thrasiline.

_Cler_. Here's not 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 Gentlemen that desire to attend and hear.

_Cle_. Can you guess the cause?

_Di_. Sir, it is plain about the _Spanish_ Prince, that's come

to marry our Kingdoms Heir, and be our Soveraign.

_Thra_. Many (that will seem to know much) say, she looks

not on him like a Maid in Love.

_Di_. O Sir, the multitude (that seldom know any thing

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.

_Cle_. Sir, it is thought, with her he shall enjoy both these

Kingdoms of _Cicilie_ and _Calabria_.

_Di_. Sir, it is (without controversie) so meant. But 'twill

be a troublesome labour for him to enjoy both these

Kingdoms, with safetie, the right Heir to one of them

living, and living so vertuously, especially the people

admiring the bravery of his mind, and lamenting his

injuries.

_Cle_. Who, Philaster?

_Di_. Yes, whose Father we all know, was by our late

King of _Calabria_, unrighteously deposed from his

fruitful _Cicilie_. My self drew some blood in those

Wars, which I would give my hand to be washed from.

_Cle_. 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.

_Di_. Sir, it seems your nature is more constant than to

enquire after State news. But the King (of late) made a

hazard of both the Kingdoms, of _Cicilie_ 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

bonefires, 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 aw his own with.

[ _Enter_ Galatea, Megra, _and a Lady_.

_Thra_. See, the Ladies, what's the first?

_Di_. A wise and modest Gentlwoman that attends the Princess.

_Cle_. The second?

_Di_. 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.

_Cle_. The last?

_Di_. Marry I think she is one whom the State keeps for

the Agents of our confederate Princes: 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 mens bodies;

and indeed has destroyed the worth of her own body, by

making experiment upon it, for the good of the

Common-wealth.

_Cle_. She's a profitable member.

_La_. Peace, if you love me: you shall see these Gentlemen

stand their ground, and not Court us.

_Gal_. What if they should?

_Meg_. What if they should?

_La_. Nay, let her alone; what if they should? why, if

they should, I say, they were never abroad: what

Foreigner would do so? it writes them directly

untravel'd.

_Gal_. Why, what if they be?

_Meg_. What if they be?

_La_. Good Madam let her go on; what if they be? Why

if they be I will justifie, they cannot maintain

discourse with a judicious Lady, nor make a Leg,

nor say Excuse me.

_Gal_. Ha, ha, ha.

_La_. Do you laugh Madam?

_Di_. Your desires upon you Ladies.

_La_. Then you must sit beside us.

_Di_. I shall sit near you then Lady.

_La_. Near me perhaps: But there's a Lady indures no

stranger; and to me you appear a very strange fellow.

_Meg_. Me thinks he's not so strange, he would quickly be

acquainted.

_Thra_. 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

In one breath) we have drawn you worthy Sir,

To make your fair indearments 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,

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

Only of what her self is to her self,

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

To shew her so, as borrowed 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

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 publick, is not only

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.

_Thra_. This will be hardly done.

_Cle_. It must be ill done, if it be done.

_Di_. When 'tis at best, 'twill be but half done,

Whilst so brave a Gentleman's wrong'd and flung off.

_Thra_. I fear.

_Cle_. Who does not?

_Di_. I fear not for my self, and yet I fear too:

Well, we shall see, we shall see: no more.

_Pha_. Kissing your white hand (Mistress) I take leave,

To thank your Royal Father: and thus far,

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 my self)

To what a person, of what eminence,

Ripe expectation of what faculties,

Manners and vertues you would wed your Kingdoms?

You in me have your wishes. Oh this Country,

By more than all my hopes I hold it

Happy, in their dear memories that have been

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 Princes word,

There shall be nothing to make up a Kingdom

Mighty, and flourishing, defenced, fear'd,

Equall to be commanded and obey'd,

But through the travels of my life I'le find it,

And tye it to this Country. And I vow

My reign shall be so easie 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

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.

_Thra_. Miraculous.

_Cle_. This speech calls him _Spaniard_, being nothing but

A large inventory of his own commendations.

[_Enter_ Philaster.

_Di_. I wonder what's his price? For certainly he'll tell

himself he has so prais'd his shape: But here comes one

more worthy those large speeches, than the large

speaker of them? let me be swallowed quick, if I can

find, in all the Anatomy of yon mans vertues, one sinew

sound enough to promise for him, he shall be Constable.

By this Sun, he'll ne're make King unless it be for trifles,

in my poor judgment.

_Phi_. Right Noble Sir, as low as my obedience,

And with a heart as Loyal as my knee,

I beg your favour.

_King_. Rise, you have it Sir.

_Di_. Mark but the King how pale he looks with fear.

Oh! this same whorson Conscience, how it jades us!

_King_. Speak your intents Sir.

_Phi_. Shall I speak 'um freely?

Be still my royal Soveraign.

_King_. As a subject

We give you freedom.

_Di_. Now it heats.

_Phi_. Then thus I turn

My language to you Prince, you foreign man.

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

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

(A dowry as you hope with this fair Princess,

Whose memory I bow to) was not left

By my dead Father (Oh, I had a Father)

To your inheritance, and I up and living,

Having my self about me and my sword,

The souls of all my name, and memories,

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_,

This very ground thou goest on, this fat earth,

My Fathers 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;

By _Nemesis_ it shall.

_Pha_. He's mad beyond cure, mad.

_Di_. Here's a fellow has some fire in's veins:

The outlandish Prince looks like a Tooth-drawer.

_Phi_. Sir, Prince of Poppingjayes, I'le make it well appear

To you I am not mad.

_King_. You displease us.

You are too bold.

_Phi_. 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 is somewhat tainted.

_Thra_. I do not think 'twill prove so.

_Di_. 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 these hilts I'le run his

hazard, although I run my name out of the

Kingdom.

_Cle_. Peace, we are one soul.

_Pha_. 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

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.

_Phi_. If thou wert sole inheritor to him,

That made the world his; and couldst see no sun

Shine upon any 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,

Or back such bellied commendations,

And from this present, spight 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: go to, be better temper'd.

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

_Gal_. Ladyes,

This would have been a pattern of succession,

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

He is the worthiest the true name of man

This day within my knowledge.

_Meg_. I cannot tell what you may call your knowledge,

But the other is the man set in mine eye;

Oh! 'tis a Prince of wax.

_Gal_. A Dog it is.

_King_. _Philaster_, tell me,

The injuries you aim at in your riddles.

_Phi_. If you had my eyes Sir, and sufferance,

My griefs upon you and my broken fortunes,

My want's great, and now nought but hopes and fears,

My wrongs would make ill riddles to be laught at.

Dare you be still my King and right me not?

_King_. Give me your wrongs in private.

[_They whisper_.

_Phi_. Take them, and ease me of a load would bow strong Atlas.

_Di_. He dares not stand the shock.

_Di_. 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: mens hearts and faces are

so far asunder, that they hold no intelligence. Do but

view yon stranger well, and you shall see a Feaver

through all his bravery, and feel him shake like a true

Tenant; if he give not back his Crown again, upon the

report of an Elder Gun, I have no augury.

_King_. Go to:

Be more your self, as you respect our favour:

You'I 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, or by the gods.

_Phi_. I am dead Sir, y'are my fate: it was not I

Said I was not wrong'd: I carry all about me,

My weak stars led me to all my weak fortunes.

Who dares in all this presence speak (that is

But man of flesh and may be mortal) tell me

I do not most intirely love this Prince,

And honour his full vertues!

_King_. Sure he's possest.

_Phi_. Yes, with my Fathers spirit; It's here O King!

A dangerous spirit; now he tells me King,

I was a Kings heir, bids me be a King,

And whispers to me, these be all my Subjects.

'Tis 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:

But I'le suppress him, he's a factious spirit,

And will undo me: noble Sir, [your] hand, I am your

servant.

_King_. Away, I do not like this:

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

Both of life and spirit: For this time

I pardon your wild speech, without so much

As your imprisonment.

[_Ex_. King, Pha. _and_ Are.

_Di_. I thank you Sir, you dare not for the people.

_Gal_. Ladies, what think you now of this brave fellow?

_Meg_. A pretty talking fellow, hot at hand; but eye yon

stranger, is not he a fine compleat Gentleman? O these

strangers, I do affect them strangely: they do the rarest

home things, and please the fullest! as I live, could

love all the Nation over and over for his sake.

_Gal_. Pride comfort your poor head-piece Lady: 'tis a

weak one, and had need of a Night-cap.

_Di_. See how his fancy labours, has he not spoke

Home, and bravely? 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 whay! it stood upon his brow,

Like a cold winter dew.

_Phi_. Gentlemen,

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

You stand (methinks) like men that would be Courtiers,

If you could well be fiatter'd at a price,

Not to undo your Children: y'are all honest:

Go get you home again, and make your Country

A vertuous Court, to which your great ones may,

In their Diseased age, retire, and live recluse.

_Cle_. How do you worthy Sir?

_Phi_. Well, very well;

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

I may live many years.

_Di_. The King must please,

Whilst we know what you are, and who you are,

Your wrongs and [injuries]: 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,

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 swords point.

_Phi_. Friends, no more,

Our years may he corrupted: 'Tis an age

We dare not trust our wills to: do you love me?

_Thra_. Do we love Heaven and honour?

_Phi_. My Lord _Dion_, you had

A vertuous Gentlewoman call'd you Father;

Is she yet alive?

_Di_. Most honour'd Sir, she is:

And for the penance but of an idle dream,

Has undertook a tedious Pilgrimage.

[ _Enter a_ Lady.

_Phi_. Is it to me, or any of these Gentlemen you come?

_La_. To you, brave Lord; the Princess would intreat

Your present company.

_Phi_. The Princess send for me! y'are mistaken.

_La_. If you be call'd _Philaster_, 'tis to you.

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

_Di_. Do you know what you do?

_Phi_. Yes, go to see a woman.

_Cle_. But do you weigh the danger you are in?

_Phi_. Danger in a sweet face?

By _Jupiter_ I must not fear a woman.

_Thra_. But are you sure it was the Princess sent?

It may be some foul train to catch your life.

_Phi_. I do not think it Gentlemen: she's noble,

Her eye may shoot me dead, or those true red

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

There's all the danger in't: but be what may,

Her single name hath arm'd me.

[_Ex_. Phil.

_Di_. Go on:

And be as truly happy as thou art fearless:

Come Gentlemen, let's make our friends acquainted,

Lest the King prove false.

[_Ex. Gentlemen_.

_Enter_ Arethusa _and a_ Lady.

_Are_. Comes he not?

_La_. Madam?

_Are_. Will _Philaster_ come?

_La_. Dear Madam, you were wont

To credit me at first.

_Are_. But didst thou tell me so?

I am forgetful, and my womans strength

Is so o'recharg'd with danger like to grow

About my Marriage that these under-things

Dare not abide in such a troubled sea:

How look't he, when he told thee he would come?

_La_. Why, well.

_Are_. And not a little fearful?

_La_. Fear Madam? sure he knows not what it is.

_Are_. You are all 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.

_La_. Fear? Madam (me thought) his looks hid more

Of love than fear.

_Are_. 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?

_La_. Madam, I mean to you.

_Are_. 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 poyson thee,

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

_La_. Madam, I think I hear him.

_Are_. Bring him in:

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_ Phil.

_La_. Here is my Lord _Philaster_.

_Are_. Oh! 'tis well:

Withdraw your self.

_Phi_. Madam, your messenger

Made me believe, you wisht to speak with me.

_Are_. 'Tis 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 loth to speak them. Have you known

That I have ought detracted from your worth?

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

My baser instruments to throw disgrace

Upon your vertues?

_Phi_. Never Madam you.

_Are_. Why then should you in such a publick 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.

_Phi_. Madam, this truth which I shall speak, will be

Foolish: but for your fair and vertuous self,

I could afford my self to have no right

To any thing you wish'd.

_Are. Philaster,_ know

I must enjoy these Kingdoms.

_Phi_. Madam, both?

_Are_. Both or I die: by Fate I die _Philaster,_

If I not calmly may enjoy them both.

_Phi_. I would do much to save that Noble life:

Yet would be loth to have posterity

Find in our stories, that _Philaster_ gave

His right unto a Scepter, and a Crown,

To save a Ladies longing.

_Are_. Nay then hear:

I must, and will have them, and more.

_Phi_. What more?

_Are_. Or lose that little life the gods prepared,

To trouble this poor piece of earth withall.

_Phi_. Madam, what more?

_Are_. Turn then away thy face.

_Phi_. No.

_Are_. Do.

_Phi_. I cannot endure it: turn away my face?

I never yet saw enemy that lookt

So dreadful, but that I thought my self

As great a Basilisk as he; or spake

So horribly, 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 Ladies 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 intreat, I will unmov'dly hear.

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

_Phi_. I do.

_Are_. Then know I must have them and thee.

_Phi_. And me?

_Are_. Thy love: without which, all the Land

Discovered yet, will serve me for no use,

But to be buried in.

_Phi_. Is't possible?

_Are_. With it, it were too little to bestow

On thee: Now, though thy breath doth strike me dead

(Which know it may) I have unript my breast.

_Phi_. 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, that would be jealous.

_Are_. Another soul into my body shot,

Could not have fill'd me with more strength and spirit,

Than this thy breath: but spend not hasty time,

In seeking how I came thus: 'tis the gods,

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,

And we should part without it.

_Phi_. 'Twill be ill

I should abide here long.

_Are_. 'Tis true, and worse

You should come often: How shall we devise

To hold intelligence? That our true lovers,

On any new occasion may agree, what path is best to

tread?

_Phi_. 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 side,

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

And paid the Nymph again as much in tears;

A Garland lay him by, made by himself,

Of many several flowers, bred in the bay,

Stuck in that mystick order, that the rareness

Delighted me: but ever when he turned

His tender eyes upon 'um, he would weep,

As if he meant to make 'um 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 dyed,

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,

Then took he up his Garland and did shew,

What every flower as Country people hold,

Did signifie: and how all ordered thus,

Exprest his grief: and to my thoughts did read

The prettiest lecture of his Country Art

That could be wisht: so that, me thought, I could

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.

_Are_. 'Tis well, no more.

_La_. Madam, the Prince is come to do his service.

_Are_. What will you do _Philaster_ with your self?

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

_Are_. Dear, hide thy self. Bring in the Prince.

_Phi_. 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 forreign Nation, that he made _Philaster_

hide himself?

_Are_. He cannot know it.

_Phi_. Though it should sleep for ever to the world,

It is a simple sin to hide my self,

Which will for ever on my conscience lie.

_Are_. Then good _Philaster,_ give him scope and way

In what he saies: for he is apt to speak

What you are loth to hear: for my sake do.

_Phi_. I will.

[ _Enter_ Pharamond.

_Pha_. My Princely Mistress, as true lovers ought,

I come to kiss these fair hands; and to shew

In outward Ceremonies, the dear love

Writ in my heart.

_Phi_. If I shall have an answer no directlier,

I am gone.

_Pha_. To what would he have an answer?

_Are_. To his claim unto the Kingdom.

_Pha_. Sirrah, I forbear you before the King.

_Phi_. Good Sir, do so still, I would not talk with you.

_Pha_. But now the time is fitter, do but offer

To make mention of right to any Kingdom,

Though it be scarce habitable.

_Phi_. Good Sir, let me go.

_Pha_. And by my sword.

_Phi_. Peace _Pharamond:_ if thou--

_Are_. Leave us Philaster.

_Phi_. I have done.

_Pha_. You are gone, by heaven I'le fetch you back.

_Phi_. You shall not need.

_Pha_. What now?

_Phi_. Know Pharamond,

I loath 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.

_Pha_. Do you slight

My greatness so, and in the Chamber of the Princess!

_Phi_. It is a place to which I must confess

I owe a reverence: but wer't the Church,

I, at the Altar, there's no place so safe,

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

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_ Phi.

_Pha_. 'Tis an odd fellow Madam, we must stop

His mouth with some Office, when we are married.

_Are_. You were best make him your Controuler.

_Pha_. I think he would discharge it well. But Madam,

I hope our hearts are knit; and yet so slow

The Ceremonies of State are, that 'twill be long

Before our hands be so: If then you please,

Being agreed in heart, let us not wait

For dreaming for me, but take a little stoln

Delights, and so prevent our joyes to come.

_Are_. If you dare speak such thoughts,

I must withdraw in honour.

[_Exit_ Are.

_Pha_. The constitution of my body will never hold out till

the wedding; I must seek elsewhere.

[_Exit_ Pha.

_Actus Secundus. Scena Prima_.

_Enter_ Philaster _and_ Bellario.

_Phi_. 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, I, or deserve.

_Bell_. 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

Hardened 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.

_Phi_. But boy, it will prefer thee; thou art young,

And bearest 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.

_Bell_. 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 sawcy for himself.

_Phi_. Why gentle boy, I find no fault at all in thy behaviour.

_Bell_. 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.

_Phi_. 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 dwel'st with me:

Think so, and 'tis so; and when time is full,

That thou hast well discharged 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; 'Tis more than time

Thou didst attend the Princess.

_Bell_. 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 fights, all your designs.

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

And Heavens hate those you curse, though I be one.

[_Exit_.

_Phi_. The love of boyes 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_ Phi.

_Enter_ Pharamond.

_Pha_. Why should these Ladies stay so long? They must

come this way; I know the Queen imployes '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 'tis not my

fault: Oh, for our Country Ladies! Here's one

boulted, I'le hound at her.

_Enter_ Galatea.

_Gal_. Your Grace!

_Pha_. Shall I not be a trouble?

_Gal_. Not to me Sir.

_Pha_. Nay, nay, you are too quick; by this sweet hand.

_Gal_. You'l be forsworn Sir, 'tis 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 bar, and

then I think, I shall have sence enough to answer

all the weighty _Apothegmes_ your Royal blood shall

manage.

_Pha_. Dear Lady, can you love?

_Gal_. Dear, Prince, how dear! I ne're 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 wyer mine own hair covers: and this face has

been so far from being dear to any, that it ne're 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 Mercers wife curse our good doings.

_Pha_. You mistake me Lady.

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

_Pha_. Do Ladies of this Country use to give no more respect

to men of my full being?

_Gal_. 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 brew'd 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 flie

_Phlebotomie_, fresh Pork, Conger, and clarified Whay;

They are all dullers of the vital spirits.

_Pha_. Lady, you talk of nothing all this while.

_Gal_. 'Tis very true Sir, I talk of you.

_Pha_. This is a crafty wench, I like her wit well, 'twill be

rare to stir up a leaden appetite, she's a _Danae_, and

must be courted in a showr of gold. Madam, look

here, all these and more, than--

_Gal_. What have you there, my Lord? Gold? Now, as I

live tis 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'le send my man with silver and keep your gold

for you.

_Pha_. Lady, Lady.

_Gal_. She's coming Sir behind, will take white mony. Yet

for all this I'le match ye.

[_Exit_ Gal. _behind the hangings_.

_Pha_. If there be two such more in this Kingdom, and

near the Court, we may even hang up our Harps: ten such

_Camphire_ constitutions as this, would call the golden

age again in question, and teach the old way for every ill

fac't Husband to get his own Children, and what a

mischief that will 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.

_Meg_. As many mornings bring as many dayes,

Fair, sweet, and hopeful to your Grace.

_Pha_. 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'll take an hour

Out quickly.

_Meg_. What would your Grace talk of?

_Pha_. Of some such pretty subject as your self.

I'le go no further than your eye, or lip,

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

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

Smooth, young enough, ripe enough, red enough,

Or my glass wrongs me.

_Pha_. O they are two twin'd Cherries died 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.

_Meg_. O 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, gathered a kiss,

That if I had but five lines of that number,

Such pretty begging blanks, I should commend

Your fore-head, or your cheeks, and kiss you too.

_Pha_. Do it in prose; you cannot miss it Madam.

_Meg_. I shall, I shall.

_Pha_. By my life you shall not.

I'le prompt you first: Can you do it now?

_Meg_. Methinks 'tis easie, now I ha' don't before;

But yet I should stick at it.

_Pha_. Stick till to morrow.

I'le ne'r part you sweetest. But we lose time,

Can you love me?

_Meg_. Love you my Lord? How would you have me

love you?

_Pha_. I'le teach you in a short sentence, cause I will not

load your memory, that is all; love me, and lie with

me.

_Meg_. Was it lie with you that you said? 'Tis impossible.

_Pha_. Not to a willing mind, that will endeavour; if I do

not teach you to do it as easily in one night, as you'l

go to bed, I'le lose my Royal blood for't.

_Meg_. Why Prince, you have a Lady of your own, that

yet wants teaching.

_Pha_. I'le sooner teach a Mare the old measures, than teach

her any thing belonging to the function; she's afraid to

lie with her self, if she have but any masculine

imaginations about her; I know when we are married,

I must ravish her.

_Meg_. By my honour, that's a foul fault indeed, but time

and your good help will wear it out Sir.

_Pha_. And for any other I see, excepting your dear self,

dearest Lady, I had rather be Sir _Tim _the Schoolmaster,

and leap a Dairy-maid.

_Meg_. Has your Grace seen the Court-star _Galatea_?

_Pha_. Out upon her; she's as cold of her favour as an

apoplex: she sail'd by but now.

_Meg_. And how do you hold her wit Sir?

_Pha_. 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 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?

_Meg_. Whither?

_Pha_. To your bed; if you mistrust my faith, you do me

the unnoblest wrong.

_Meg_. I dare not Prince, I dare not.

_Pha_. Make your own conditions, my purse shall seal 'em,

and what you dare imagine you can want, I'le furnish you

withal: give two hours to your thoughts every morning about

it. Come, I know you are bashful, speak in my ear, will you

be mine? keep this, and with it me: soon I will visit you.

_Meg_. My Lord, my Chamber's most unsafe, but when

'tis night I'le find some means to slip into your

lodging: till when--

_Pha_. Till when, this, and my heart go with thee.

[_Ex. several ways_.

_Enter _Galatea _from behind the hangings_.

_Gal_. Oh thou pernicious Petticoat Prince, are these your

vertues? Well, if I do not lay a train to blow your

sport up, I am no woman; and Lady Towsabel I'le

fit you for't.

[_Exit_ Gal.

_Enter _Arethusa _and a_ Lady.

_Are_. Where's the boy?

_La_. Within Madam.

_Are_. Gave you him gold to buy him cloaths?

_La_. I did.

_Are_. And has he don't?

_La_. Yes Madam.

_Are_. 'Tis a pretty sad talking lad, is it not?

Askt you his name?

_La_. No Madam.

[ _Enter _Galatea.

_Are_. O you are welcome, what good news?

_Gal_. As good as any one can tell your Grace,

That saies she hath done that you would have wish'd.

_Are_. Hast thou discovered?

_Gal_. I have strained a point of modesty for you.

_Are_. I prethee how?

_Gal_. In listning after bawdery; I see, let a Lady live

never so modestly, she shall be sure to find a lawful

time, to harken after bawdery; your Prince, brave

_Pharamond_, was so hot on't.

_Are_. With whom?

_Gal_. Why, with the Lady I suspect: I can tell the time and place.

_Are_. O when, and where?

_Gal_. To night, his Lodging.

_Are_. Run thy self into the presence, mingle there again

With other Ladies, leave the rest to me:

If destiny (to whom we dare not say,

Why thou didst this) have not decreed it so

In lasting leaves (whose smallest Characters

Were never altered:) yet, this match shall break.

Where's the boy?

_La_. Here Madam.

[ _Enter _Bellario.

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

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

To do him service.

_Are_. Thou disclaim'st in me;

Tell me thy name.

_Bell_. _Bellario_.

_Are_. Thou canst sing, and play?

_Bell_. If grief will give me leave, Madam, I can.

_Are_. 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 [b]reath 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?

_Bell_. Love Madam? I know not what it is.

_Are_. 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?

_Bell_. If it be love,

To forget all respect of his own friends,

In 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 saies, to name you once

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

Then Madam, I dare swear he loves you.

_Are_. O y'are a cunning boy, and taught to lie,

For your Lords credit; but thou knowest, a lie,

That bears this sound, is welcomer to me,

Than any truth that saies he loves me not.

Lead the way Boy: Do you attend me too;

'Tis thy Lords business hasts me thus; Away.

[_Exeunt_.

_Enter _Dion, Cleremont, Thrasilin, Megra _and _Galatea.

_Di_. Come Ladies, shall we talk a round? As men

Do walk a mile, women should take an hour

After supper: 'Tis their exercise.

_Gal_. Tis late.

_Meg_. 'Tis all

My eyes will do to lead me to my bed.

_Gal_. I fear they are so heavy, you'l scarce find

The way to your lodging with 'em to night.

[ Enter _Pharamond_.

_Thra_. The Prince.

_Pha_. Not a bed Ladies? y'are good sitters up;

What think you of a pleasant dream to last

Till morning?

_Meg_. I should choose, my Lord, a pleasing wake before it.

[_Enter _Arethusa _and _Bellario.

_Are_. 'Tis well my Lord y'are courting of Ladies.

Is't not late Gentlemen?

_Cle_. Yes Madam.

_Are_. Wait you there.

[_Exit _Arethusa.

_Meg_. She's jealous, as I live; look you my Lord,

The Princess has a _Hilas_, an _Adonis_.

_Pha_. His form is Angel-like.

_Meg_. Why this is he, 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 her self.

_Pha_. I find no musick in these boys.

_Meg_. Nor I.

They can do little, and that small they do,

They have not wit to hide.

_Di_. Serves he the Princess?

_Thra_. Yes.

_Di_. 'Tis a sweet boy, how brave she keeps him!

_Pha_. Ladies all good rest; I mean to kill a Buck

To morrow morning, ere y'ave done your dreams.

_Meg_. All happiness attend your Grace, Gentlemen good rest,

Come shall we to bed?

_Gal_. Yes, all good night.

[_Ex_. Gal. _and _Meg.

_Di_. May your dreams be true to you;

What shall we do Gallants? 'Tis 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.

_Are_. Upon my life it is: and I do hope,

Your Highness will not tye me to a man,

That in the heat of wooing throws me off,

And takes another.

_Di_. What should this mean?

_King_. If it be true,

That Lady had been better have embrac'd

Cureless Diseases; get you to your rest,

[_Ex_. Are. _and _Bel.

You shall be righted: Gentlemen draw near,

We shall imploy you: Is young _Pharamond_

Come to his lodging?

_Di_. I saw him enter there.

_King_. Haste some of you, and cunningly discover,

If Megra be in her lodging.

_Cle_. 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.

You gods I see, that who unrighteously

Holds wealth or state from others, shall be curst,

In that, which meaner men are blest withall:

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 matched: the gods themselves

Shall sow wild strife betwixt her Lord and her,

Yet, if it be your wills, forgive the sin

I have committed, let it not fall

Upon this understanding 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.

_Di_. 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 laught, and said their Lady lay speechless.

I said, my business was important; they said their Lady

was about it: I grew hot, and cryed 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_. 'Tis then no time to dally: you o'th' Guard,

Wait at the back door of the Princes lodging,

And see that none pass thence upon your lives.

Knock Gentlemen: knock loud: louder yet:

What, has their pleasure taken off their hearing?

I'le break your meditations: knock again:

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

Larum by him; once more, _Pharamond_, Prince.

[Pharamond _above_.

_Pha_. What sawcy groom knocks at this dead of night?

Where be our waiters? By my vexed soul,

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

_K_. Prince, you wrong your thoughts, we are your friends,

Come down.

_Pha_. The King?

_King_. The same Sir, come down,

We have cause of present Counsel with you.

_Pha_. If your Grace please to use me, I'le attend you

To your Chamber.

[Pha. _below_.

_King_. No, 'tis too late Prince, I'le make bold with yours.

_Pha_. I have some private reasons to my self,

Makes me unmannerly, and say you cannot;

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.

_Pha_. I will not be dishonour'd;

He that enters, enters upon his death;

Sir, 'tis a sign you make no stranger of me,

To bring these Renegados to my Chamber,

At these unseason'd hours.

_King_. Why do you

Chafe your self so? you are not wrong'd, nor shall be;

Onely I'le search your lodging, for some cause

To our self known: Enter I say.

_Pha_. I say no.

[_Meg. Above_.

_Meg_. Let 'em enter Prince,

Let 'em enter, I am up, and ready; I know their business,

'Tis the poor breaking of a Ladies honour,

They hunt so hotly after; let 'em enjoy it.

You have your business Gentlemen, I lay here.

O my Lord the King, this is not noble in you

To make publick the weakness of a Woman.

_King_. Come down.

_Meg_. I dare my Lord; your whootings and your clamors,

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?

_Meg_. Yes, to laugh at your worst: but I shall wrong you,

If my skill fail me not.

_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.

_Cle_. Get him another wench, and you bring him to bed in deed.

_Di_. 'Tis strange a man cannot ride a Stagg

Or two, to breath himself, without a warrant:

If this geer hold, that lodgings be search'd thus,

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

That they be not by some trick of State mistaken.

[ _Enter with_ Megra.

_King_. Now Lady of honour, where's your honour now?

No man can fit your palat, but the Prince.

Thou most ill shrowded rottenness; thou piece

Made by a Painter and a Pothecary;

Thou troubled sea of lust; thou wilderness,

Inhabited by wild thoughts; thou swoln cloud

Of Infection; them ripe Mine of all Diseases;

Thou all Sin, all Hell, and last, all Devils, tell me,

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 Rimes,

And sear thy name with Candles upon walls:

Do you laugh Lady _Venus_?

_Meg_. Faith Sir, you must pardon me;

I cannot chuse but laugh to see you merry.

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

By all these gods you swore by, and as many

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, any thing:

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

Her layes, leaps, and outlayes, 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 womans madness,

The glory of a fury; and if I do not

Do it to the height?

_King_. What boy is this she raves at?

_Meg_. Alas! good minded Prince, you know not these things?

I am loth to reveal 'em. Keep this fault

As you would keep your health from the hot air

Of the corrupted people, or by heaven,

I will not fall alone: what I have known,

Shall be as publick as a print: all tongues

Shall speak it as they do the language they

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

Like a prodigious star for all to gaze at,

And so high and glowing, that other Kingdoms far

and Forreign

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_. Has she a boy?

_Cle_. 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'le study to forget you.

_Meg_. Do you study to forget me, and I'le study

To forget you.

[_Ex_. King, Meg. _and_ Guard.

_Cle_. Why here's a Male spirit for _Hercules_, if ever there

be nine worthies of women, this wench shall ride

astride, and be their Captain.

_Di_. Sure she hath a garrison of Devils in her tongue, she

uttereth such balls of wild-fire. She has so netled 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 brave,

chast, vertuous Ladies boy: and a fair boy, a well spoken

boy: All these considered, can make nothing else--but

there I leave you Gentlemen.

_Thra_. Nay we'l go wander with you.

[_Exeunt_.

_Actus Tertius. Scena Prima_.

_Enter _Cle. Di. _and _Thra.

_Cle_. Nay doubtless 'tis true.

_Di_. I, and 'tis 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_, prest down from his Royal right,

By this regardless King; and only look,

And see the Scepter 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?

_Thra_. That man that would not stir with you,

To aid _Philaster_, let the gods forget,

That such a Creature walks upon the earth.

_Cle_. _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.

_Di_. The only cause that draws _Philaster_ back

From this attempt, is the fair Princess love,

Which he admires and we can now confute.

_Thra_. Perhaps he'l not believe it.

_Di_. Why Gentlemen, 'tis without question so.

_Cle_. I 'tis past speech, she lives dishonestly.

But how shall we, if he be curious, work

Upon his faith?

_Thra_. We all are satisfied within our selves.

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

I'le make this new report to be my knowledge,

I'le say I know it, nay, I'le swear I saw it.

_Cle_. It will be best.

_Thra_. 'Twill move him.

[ _Enter_ Philaster.

_Di_. Here he comes. Good morrow to your honour,

We have spent some time in seeking you.

_Phi_. My worthy friends,

You that can keep your memories to know

Your friend in miseries, and cannot frown

On men disgrac'd for vertue: A good day

Attend you all. What service may I do worthy your

acceptation?

_Di_. My good Lord,

We come to urge that vertue 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, or knew such a thing

As vertue, but will second your attempts.

_Phi_. 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 courtesie) I could afford

To melt my self in thanks; but my designs

Are not yet ripe, suffice it, that ere long

I shall imploy your loves: but yet the time is short of

what I would.

_Di_. The time is fuller Sir, than you expect;

That which hereafter will not perhaps be reach'd

By violence, may now be caught; As for the King,

You know the people have long hated him;

But now the Princess, whom they lov'd.

_Phi_. Why, what of her?

_Di_. Is loath'd as much as he.

_Phi_. By what strange means?

_Di_. She's known a Whore.

_Phi_. Thou lyest.

_Di_. My Lord--

_Phi_. Thou lyest,

[_Offers to draw and is held_.

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,

'Twill 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 falshood, 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.

_Di_. This is most strange;

Sure he does love her.

_Phi_. I do love fair truth:

She is my Mistress, and who injures her,

Draws vengeance from me Sirs, let go my arms.

_Thra_. Nay, good my Lord be patient.

_Cle_. Sir, remember this is your honour'd friend,

That comes to do his service, and will shew you

Why he utter'd this.

_Phi_. 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.

_Di_. But this my Lord is truth.

_Phi_. O say not so, good Sir forbear to say so,

'Tis the truth that all womenkind is false;

Urge it no more, it is impossible;

Why should you think the Princess light?

_Di_. Why, she was taken at it.

_Phi_. 'Tis false, O Heaven 'tis false: it cannot be,

Can it? Speak Gentlemen, for love of truth speak;

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

_Di_. Why no, my Lord.

_Phi_. Why then it cannot be.

_Di_. And she was taken with her boy.

_Phi_. What boy?

_Di_. A Page, a boy that serves her.

_Phi_. Oh good gods, a little boy?

_Di_. I, know you him my Lord?

_Phi_. Hell and sin know him? Sir, you are deceiv'd;

I'le reason it a little coldly with you;

If she were lustful, would she take a boy,

That knows not yet desire? she would have one

Should meet her thoughts and knows the sin he acts,

Which is the great delight of wickedness;

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

_Di_. How you my Lord?

_Phi_. Why all the world's abus'd

In an unjust report.

_Di_. Oh noble Sir your vertues

Cannot look into the subtil thoughts of woman.

In short my Lord, I took them: I my self.

_Phi_. Now all the Devils thou didst flie from my rage,

Would thou hadst ta'ne devils ingendring plagues:

When thou didst take them, hide thee from my 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.

_Thra_. Have you known him so ill temper'd?

_Cle_. Never before.

_Phi_. 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

To run me through?

_Di_. Why, my Lord, are you so mov'd at this?

_Phi_. When any falls from vertue I am distract,

I have an interest in't.

_Di_. But good my Lord recal your self,

And think what's best to be done.

_Phi_. I thank you. I will do it;

Please you to leave me, I'le consider of it:

Tomorrow I will find your lodging forth,

And give you answer

The readiest way.

_Di_. All the gods direct you.

_Thra_. He was extream impatient.

_Cle_. It was his vertue and his noble mind.

[_Exeunt_ Di. Cle. _and_ Thra.

_Phi_. I had forgot to ask him where he took them,

I'le follow him. O 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

This deed is done, than simply that 'tis done:

And he that tells me this is honourable,

As far from lies, as she is far from truth.

O that like beasts, we could not grieve our selves,

With that we see not; Bulls and Rams will fight,

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,

As 'twas before, finding no start in sleep.

But miserable man; See, see you gods,

[_Enter_ Bellario.

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

To intrap mortality, that you allow

Treason so smooth a brow? I cannot now

Think he is guilty.

_Bell_. Health to you my Lord;

The Princess doth commend her love, her life,

And this unto you.

_Phi_. Oh _Bellario_,

Now I perceive she loves me, she does shew it

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

_Bell_. My Lord she has attired me past my wish,

Past my desert, more fit for her attendant,

Though far unfit for me, who do attend.

_Phi_. Thou art grown courtly boy. O 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,

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.

_Bell_. Scarce like her servant, but as if I were

Something allied to her; or had preserv'd

Her life three times by my fidelity.

As mothers fond do use their only sons;

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

For whom my life should pay, if he met harm,

So she does use me.

_Phi_. Why, this is wondrous well:

But what kind language does she feed thee with?

_Bell_. 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: shee'l see my services

Regarded; and such words of that soft strain,

That I am nearer weeping when she ends

Than ere she spake.

_Phi_. This is much better still.

_Bell_. Are you ill my Lord?

_Phi_. Ill? No _Bellario_.

_Bell_. Me thinks your words

Fall not from off your tongue so evenly,

Nor is there in your looks that quietness,

That I was wont to see.

_Phi_. Thou art deceiv'd boy:

And she stroakes thy head?

_Bell_. Yes.

_Phi_. And she does clap thy cheeks?

_Bell_. She does my Lord.

_Phi_. And she does kiss thee boy? ha!

_Bell_. How my Lord?

_Phi_. She kisses thee?

_Bell_. Not so my Lord.

_Phi_. Come, come, I know she does.

_Bell_. No by my life.

_Phi_. Why then she does not love me; come, she does,

I had her do it; I charg'd her by all charms

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 should'st enjoy her: Tell me gentle boy,

Is she not paralleless? Is not her breath

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?

_Bell_. I, now I see why my disturbed thoughts

Were so perplext. When first I went to her,

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; 'tis some subtil train,

To bring that noble frame of yours to nought.

_Phi_. 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 fain to lust,

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

_Bell_. 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

Her base desires; but what I came to know

As servant to her, I would not reveal, to make

my life last ages.

_Phi_. Oh my heart; this is a salve worse than the main disease.

Tell me thy thoughts; for I will know the least

That dwells within thee, or will rip thy heart

To know it; I will see thy thoughts as plain,

As I do know thy face.

_Bell_. Why, so you do.

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

As chaste as Ice; but were she foul as Hell

And I did know it, thus; the breath of Kings,

The points of Swords, Tortures nor Bulls of Brass,

Should draw it from me.

_Phi_. Then 'tis no time to dally with thee;

I will take thy life, for I do hate thee; I could curse

thee now.

_Bell_. If you do hate you could not curse me worse;

The gods have not a punishment in store

Greater for me, than is your hate.

_Phi_. Fie, fie, so young and so dissembling;

Tell me when and where thou di[d]st enjoy her,

Or let plagues fall on me, if I destroy thee not.

_Bell_. 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'le love those pieces you have cut away,

Better than those that grow: and kiss these limbs,

Because you made 'em so.

_Phi_. Fearest thou not death?

Can boys contemn that?

_Bell_. Oh, what boy is he

Can be content to live to be a man

That sees the best of men thus passionate, thus

without reason?

_Phi_. Oh, but thou dost not know what 'tis to die.

_Bell_. Yes, I do know my Lord;

'Tis less than to be born; a lasting sleep,

A quiet resting from all jealousie;

A thing we all pursue; I know besides,

It is but giving over of a game that must be lost.

_Phi_. But there are pains, false boy,

For perjur'd souls; think but on these, and then

Thy heart will melt, and thou wilt utter all.

_Bell_. May they fall all upon me whilst I live,

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.

_Phi_. Oh, what should I do?

Why, who can but believe him? He does swear

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 utterest them,

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

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, what ere thou dost: It troubles me

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,

Let me not see thee.

_Bell_. 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,

And her and me. Farewel 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 memorie,

And I shall rest at peace.

[_Exit_ Bel.

_Phi_. Blessing be with thee,

What ever thou deserv'st. Oh, where shall I

Go bath thy body? Nature too unkind,

That made no medicine for a troubled mind!

[_Exit_. Phi.

_Enter_ Arethuse.

_Are_. 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 remembred him when his dear name

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

And ten thousand such; I should be angry at his stay.

[_Enter _King.

_King_. What are your meditations? who attends you?

_Are_. None but my single self, I need no Guard,

I do no wrong, nor fear none.

_King_. Tell me: have you not a boy?

_Are_. Yes Sir.

_King_. What kind of boy?

_Are_. A Page, a waiting boy.

_King_. A handsome boy?

_Are_. 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?

_Are_. Yes Sir.

_King_. About Eighteen?

_Are_. I never ask'd his age.

_King_. Is he full of service?

_Are_. By your pardon why do you ask?

_King_. Put him away.

_Are_. Sir?

_King_. Put him away, h'as done you that good service,

Shames me to speak of.

_Are_. Good Sir let me understand you.

_King_. If you fear me, shew it in duty; put away that boy.

_Are_. 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 my self,

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

What you, my self have done.

_Are_. What have I done my Lord?

_King_. 'Tis a new language, that all love to learn,

The common people speak it well already,

They need no Grammer; understand me well,

There be foul whispers stirring; cast him off!

And suddenly do it: Farewel.

[_Exit_ King.

_Are_. Where may a Maiden live securely free,

Keeping her Honour safe? Not with the living,

They feed upon opinions, errours, dreams,

And make 'em truths: they draw a nourishment

Out of defamings, grow upon disgraces,

And when they see a vertue fortified

Strongly above the battery of their tongues;

Oh, how they cast to sink it; and defeated

(Soul sick with Poyson) strike the Monuments

Where noble names lie sleeping: till they sweat,

And the cold Marble melt.

_Enter_ Philaster.

_Phi_. Peace to your fairest thoughts, dearest Mistress.

_Are_. Oh, my dearest servant I have a War within me.

_Phi_. 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'le right your honours.

_Are_. Oh, my best love; that boy!

_Phi_. What boy?

_Are_. The pretty boy you gave me.

_Phi_. What of him?

_Are_. Must be no more mine.

_Phi_. Why?

_Are_. They are jealous of him.

_Phi_. Jealous, who?

_Are_. The King.

_Phi_. Oh, my fortune,

Then 'tis no idle jealousie. Let him go.

_Are_. 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 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-lid,

Making me dream and cry, Oh my dear, dear _Philaster_.

_Phi_. Oh my heart!

Would he had broken thee, that made thee know

This Lady was not Loyal. Mistress, forget

The boy, I'le get thee a far better.

_Are_. Oh never, never such a boy again, as my _Bellario_.

_Phi_. 'Tis but your fond affection.

_Are_. With thee my boy, farewel for ever,

All secrecy in servants: farewel faith,

And all desire to do well for it self:

Let all that shall succeed thee, for thy wrongs,

Sell and betray chast love.

_Phi_. And all this passion for a boy?

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

And the loss of such must have a mourning for.

_Phi_. O thou forgetful woman!

_Are_. How, my Lord?

_Phi_. False _Arethusa_!

Hast thou a Medicine to restore my wits,

When I have lost 'em? If not, leave to talk, and do thus.

_Are_. Do what Sir? would you sleep?

_Phi_. 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 li[k]e a sea upon me? Have I taken

Danger as stern as death into my bosom,

And laught 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

Bear all this bravely, and must sink at length

Under a womans falshood? Oh that boy,

That cursed boy? None but a villain boy, to ease

your lust?

_Are_. Nay, then I am betray'd,

I feel the plot cast for my overthrow; Oh I am wretched.

_Phi_. 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,

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,

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

Both heal and poyson; how your thoughts are woven

With thousand changes in one subtle webb,

And worn so by you. How that foolish man,

That reads the story of a womans face,

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.

How you are, being taken all together,

A meer 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 farewel all my wo, all my delight.

[_Exit_ Phi.

_Are_. 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,

To find out constancy? Save me, how black,

[_Enter_ Bell.

And guilty (me thinks) 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,

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 understoodst

The loathed Office thou hast undergone,

Why, thou wouldst hide thee under heaps of hills,

Lest men should dig and find thee.

_Bell_. Oh what God

Angry with men, hath sent this strange disease

Into the noblest minds? Madam this grief

You add unto me is no more than drops

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

My Lord had struck his anger through my heart,

And let out all the hope of future joyes,

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

To take my latest leave, Farewel 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

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_ Bell.

_Are_. Peace guide thee, th'ast overthrown me once,

Yet if I had another _Troy_ to lose,

Thou or another villain with thy looks,

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

My hair dishevel'd through the fiery streets.

[ _Enter a_ Lady

_La_. Madam, the King would hunt, and calls for you

With earnestness.

_Are_. I am in tune to hunt!

_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 pursu'd by cruel Hounds,

And have my story written in my wounds.

[_Exeunt_.

_Actus Quartus. Scena Prima_.

_Enter_ King, Pharamond, Arethusa, Galatea, Megra,

Dion, Cleremont, Thrasilin, _and Attendants_.

_K_. What, are the Hounds before, and all the woodmen?

Our horses ready, and our bows bent?

_Di_. All Sir.

_King_. Y'are cloudy Sir, come we have forgotten

Your venial trespass, let not that sit heavy

Upon your spirit; none dare utter it.

_Di_. 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.

_Thra_. He needs no teaching, he strikes sure enough; his

greatest fault is, he Hunts too much in the Purlues,

would he would leave off Poaching.

_Di_. And for his horn, has left it at the Lodge where he

lay late; Oh, he's a precious Lime-hound; turn him loose

upon the pursuit of a Lady, and if he lose her, hang him

up i'th' slip. When my Fox-bitch Beauty grows proud, I'le

borrow him.

_King_. Is your Boy turn'd away?

_Are_. You did command Sir, and I obey you.

_King_. 'Tis well done: Hark ye further.

_Cle_. Is't possible this fellow should repent? Me thinks that

were not noble in him: and yet he looks like a mortified

member, as if he had a sick mans 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 Almanack) have opened the obstructions of his

Liver, and let him bloud with a Dog-whip.

_Di_. See, see, how modestly your Lady looks, as if she came

from Churching with her Neighbour; why, what a Devil

can a man see in her face, but that she's honest?

_Pha_. Troth 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.

_Di_. See how they Muster one another! O 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.

_Cle_. 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 her

self loose. As I live she has got her a goodly protection,

and a gracious; and may use her body discreetly, for her

healths sake, once a week, excepting Lent and Dog-days:

Oh if they were to be got for mony, what a great sum would

come out of the City for these Licences?

_King_. To horse, to horse, we lose the morning, Gentlemen.

[_Exeunt_.

_Enter two_ Woodmen.

_1 Wood_.What, have you lodged the Deer?

_2 Wood_. Yes, they are ready for the Bow.

_1 Wood_. Who shoots?

_2 Wood_. The Princess.

_1 Wood_. No she'l Hunt.

_2 Wood_. She'l take a Stand I say.

_1 Wood_. Who else?

_2 Wood_. Why the young stranger Prince.

_1 Wood_. He shall Shoot in a Stone-bow for me. I never

lov'd his beyond-sea-ship, since he 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 Dowcers; marry the Steward would have

had 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 remembred, he forsook the

Stagg once, to strike a Rascal Milking in a Medow, and

her he kill'd in the eye. Who shoots else?

_2 Wood_. The Lady _Galatea_.

_1 Wood_. That's a good wench, and she would not chide us

for tumbling of her women in the Brakes. She's liberal,

and by my Bow they say she's honest, and whether that

be a fault, I have nothing to do. There's all?

_2 Wood_. No, one more, _Megra_.

_1 Wood_. That's a firker I'faith boy; there's a wench will

Ride her Haunces as hard after a Kennel of Hounds, as a

Hunting-saddle; and when she comes home, get 'em clapt,

and all is well again. I have known her lose her self

three times in one Afternoon (if the Woods had 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 payes well. Hark, let's go.

[_Exeunt_.

_Enter_ Philaster.

_Phi_. Oh, that I had been nourished in these woods

With Milk of Goats, and Acorns, and not known

The right of Crowns, nor the dissembling Trains

Of Womens looks; but dig'd my self a Cave,

Where I, my Fire, my Cattel, and my Bed

Might have been shut together in one shed;

And then had taken me some Mountain Girl,

Beaten with Winds, chast as the hardened Rocks

Whereon she dwells; that might have strewed my Bed

With leaves, and Reeds, and with the Skins of beasts

Our Neighbours; and have born at her big breasts

My large course issue. This had been a life free

from vexation.

[ _Enter_ Bellario.

_Bell_. Oh wicked men!

An innocent man 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.

_Phi_. Is there a Creature yet so miserable,

That I can pity?

_Bell_. 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.

_Phi_. Is it thou? be gone:

Go sell those misbeseeming Cloaths thou wear'st,

And feed thy self with them.

_Bell_. Alas! my Lord, I can get nothing for them:

The silly Country people think 'tis Treason

To touch such gay things.

_Phi_. Now by my life this is

Unkindly done, to vex me with thy sight,

Th'art fain again to thy dissembling trade:

How should'st thou think to cozen me again?

Remains there yet a plague untri'd for me?

Even so thou wept'st and spok'st when first

I took thee up; curse on the time. If thy

Commanding tears can work on any other,

Use thy art, I'le not betray it. Which way

Wilt thou take, that I may shun thee;

For thine eyes are poyson to mine; and I

Am loth to grow in rage. This way, or that way?

_Bell_. Any will serve. But I will chuse to have

That path in chase that leads unto my grave.

[_Exeunt_ Phil. _and_ Bell. _severally_.

_Enter_ Dion _and the_ Woodmen.

_Di_. This is the strangest sudden change! You _Woodman_.

_1 Wood_. My Lord _Dion_.

_Di_. Saw you a Lady come this way on a Sable-horse

stubbed with stars of white?

_2 Wood_. Was she not young and tall?

_Di_. Yes; Rode she to the wood, or to the plain?

_2 Wood_. Faith my Lord we saw none.

[_Exeunt_ Wood.

_Enter_ Cleremont.

_Di_. Pox of your questions then. What, is she found?

_Cle_. Nor will be I think.

_Di_. 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.

_Cle_. There's already a thousand fatherless tales amongst

us; some say her Horse run away with her; some a Wolf

pursued her; others, it was a plot to kill her; and that

Armed men were seen in the Wood: but questionless, she

rode away willingly.

_Enter_ King, _and_ Thrasiline.

_King_. Where is she?

_Cle_. Sir, I cannot tell.

_King_. How is that? Answer me so again.

_Cle_. 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?

_Di_. Sir, I do not know.

_King_. 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, shew her me;

I do command you all, as you are subjects,

To shew her me, what am I not your King?

If I, then am I not to be obeyed?

_Di_. Yes, if you command things possible and honest.

_King_. Things possible and honest! Hear me, thou,

Thou Traytor, that darest confine thy King to things

Possible and honest; shew her me,

Or let me perish, if I cover not all _Cicily_ with bloud.

_Di_. Indeed I cannot, unless you tell me where she is.

_King_. You have betray'd me, y'have, let me lose

The Jewel of my life, go; bring her me,

And set her before me; 'tis the King

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

Uncloud the Sun, charm down the swelling Sea,

And stop the Flouds of Heaven; speak, can it not?

_Di_. No.

_King_. No, cannot the breath of Kings do this?

_Di_. No; nor smell sweet it self, if once the Lungs

Be but corrupted.

_King_. Is it so? Take heed.

_Di_. Sir, take you heed; how you dare the powers

That must be just.

_King_. Alas! what are we Kings?

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 threatnings.

I have sin'd 'tis true, and here stand to be punish'd;

Yet would not thus be punish'd; let me chuse

My way, and lay it on.

_Di_. He Articles with the gods; would some body would

draw bonds, for the performance of Covenants

betwixt them.

_Enter_ Pha. Galatea, _and_ Megra.

_King_. What, is she found?

_Pha_. No, we have ta'ne her Horse.

He gallopt empty by: there's some Treason;

You _Galatea_ rode with her into the wood; why left

you her?

_Gal_. She did command me.

_King_. Command! you should not.

_Gal_. 'Twould 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.

_Pha_. If I have her not,

By this hand there shall be no more _Cicily_.

_Di_. What will he carry it to _Spain_ in's pocket?

_Pha_. I will not leave one man alive, but the King,

A Cook and a Taylor.

_Di_. Yet you may do well to spare your Ladies Bed-fellow,

and her you may keep for a Spawner.

_King_. I see the injuries I have done must be reveng'd.

_Di_. Sir, this is not the way to find her out.

_King_. Run all, disperse your selves: the man that finds her,

Or (if she be kill'd) the Traytor; I'le [make] him great.

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

_Pha_. Come let us seek.

_King_. Each man a several way, here I my self.

_Di_. Come Gentlemen we here.

_Cle_. Lady you must go search too.

_Meg_. I had rather be search'd my self.

[_Exeunt omnes_.

_Enter_ Arethusa.

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

Without the counsel of my troubled head,

I'le follow you boldly about these woods,

O're mountains, thorow brambles, pits, and flouds:

Heaven I hope will ease me. I am sick.

_Enter_ Bellario.

_Bell_. Yonder's my Lady; Heaven 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 breaths not;

Open once more those rosie twins, and send

Unto my Lord, your latest farewell; Oh, she stirs:

How is it Madam? Speak comfort.

_Are_. 'Tis not gently done,

To put me in a miserable life,

And hold me there; I pray thee let me go,

I shall do best without thee; I am well.

_Enter_ Philaster.

_Phil_. I am to blame to be so much in rage,

I'le tell her coolely, when and where I heard

This killing truth. I will be temperate

In speaking, and as just in hearing.

Oh monstrous! Tempt me not ye gods, good gods

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

But he must ease it here?

_Bell_. My Lord, help the Princess.

_Are_. I am well, forbear.

_Phi_. Let me love lightning, let me be embrac'd

And kist by Scorpions, or adore the eyes

Of Basilisks, rather than trust to tongues,

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 the hills on 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?

Poyson of Aspes between your lips; Diseases

Be your best issues; Nature make a Curse

And throw it on you.

_Are_. Dear _Philaster_, leave

To be enrag'd, and hear me.

_Phi_. I have done;

Forgive my passion, not the calm'd sea,

When _Æolus_ locks up his windy brood,

Is less disturb'd than I, I'le make you know it.

Dear _Arethusa_, do but take this sword,

And search how temperate a heart I have;

Then you and this your boy, may live and raign

In lust without control; Wilt thou _Bellario_?

I prethee kill me; thou art poor, and maist

Nourish ambitious thoughts, when I am dead:

This way were freer; Am I raging now?

If I were mad I should desire to live;

Sirs, feel my pulse; whether have you known

A man in a more equal tune to die?

_Bel_. Alas my Lord, your pulse keeps madmans time,

So does your tongue.

_Phi_. You will not kill me then?

_Are_. Kill you?

_Bell_. Not for a world.

_Phi_. 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 meeting. Kill me with this sword;

Be wise, or worse will follow: we are two

Earth cannot bear at once. Resolve to do, or suffer.

_Are_. If my fortunes be so good to let me fall

Upon thy hand, I shall have peace in death.

Yet tell me this, will there be no slanders,

No jealousies in the other world, no ill there?

_Phi_. No.

_Are_. Shew me then the way.

_Phi_. 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.

_Are_. I am prepared.

_Enter a_ Country-fellow.

_Coun_. I'le 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 horst than my self, 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.

_Phi_. Are you at peace?

_Are_. With Heavens and Earth.

_Phi_. May they divide thy soul and body?

_Coun_. Hold dastard, strike a Woman! th'art a craven I

warrant thee, thou wouldst be loth to play half a dozen

of venies at wasters with a good fellow for a broken head.

_Phi_. Leave us good friend.

_Are_. What ill bred man art thou, to intrude thy self

Upon our private sports, our recreations?

_Coun_. God 'uds, I understand you not, but I know the

Rogue has hurt you.

_Phi_. Pursue thy own affairs: it will be ill

To multiply bloud upon my head; which thou wilt

force me to.

_Coun_. I know not your Rhetorick, but I can lay it on

if you touch the woman.

[_They fight_.

_Phi_. Slave, take what thou deservest.

_Are_. Heavens guard my Lord.

_Coun_. Oh do you breath?

_Phi_. 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 loath it. I would find a course,

To lose it, rather by my will than force.

[_Exit_ Phil.

_Coun_. I cannot follow the Rogue. I pray thee wench

come and kiss me now.

_Enter_ Phara. Dion, Cle. Thra. _and_ Woodmen.

_Pha_. What art thou?

_Coun_. Almost kil'd I am for a foolish woman; a knave

has hurt her.

_Pha_. The Princess Gentlemen! Where's the wound Madam?

Is it dangerous?

_Are_. He has not hurt me.

_Coun_. I'faith she lies, has hurt her in the breast, look else.

_Pha_. O sacred spring of innocent blood!

_Di_. 'Tis above wonder! who should dare this?

_Are_. I felt it not.

_Pha_. Speak villain, who has hurt the Princess?

_Coun_. Is it the Princess?

_Di_. I.

_Coun_. Then I have seen something yet.

_Pha_. But who has hurt her?

_Coun_. I told you a Rogue I ne're saw him before, I.

_Pha_. Madam who did it?

_Are_. Some dishonest wretch, Alas I know him not,

And do forgive him.

_Coun_. He's hurt too, he cannot go far, I made my Fathers

old Fox flie about his ears.

_Pha_. How will you have me kill him?

_Are_. Not at all, 'tis some distracted fellow.

_Pha_. By this hand, I'le leave ne'er a piece of him bigger

than a Nut, and bring him all in my Hat.

_Are_. Nay, good Sir;

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

And I will study for a punishment,

Great as his fault.

_Pha_. I will.

_Are_. But swear.

_Pha_. By all my love I will: Woodmen conduct the Princess

to the King, and bear that wounded fellow to dressing:

Come Gentlemen, we'l follow the chase close.

[_Ex_. Are. Pha. Di. Cle. Thra. _and_ 1 Woodman.

_Coun_. I pray you friend let me see the King.

_2 Wood_.That you shall, and receive thanks.

[_Exeunt_.

_Coun_. If I get clear with this, I'le go see no more gay sights.

_Enter_ Bellario.

_Bell_. 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,

Let me unworthy press you: I could wish

I rather were a Coarse strewed o're 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.

_Enter_ Philaster.

_Phi_. I have done ill, my conscience calls me false,

To strike at her, that would not strike at me:

When I did fight, me thought 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 beest

Guilty, there is no justice that thy sleep

[_Cry within_.

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

So broken: Hark I am pursued: you gods

I'le take this offer'd means of my escape:

They have no mark to know me, but my wounds,

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.

[_Wounds him_.

_Bell_. Oh death I hope is come, blest be that hand,

It meant me well; again, for pities sake.

_Phi_. I have caught my self,

[Phi. _falls_.

The loss of bloud hath stayed my flight. Here, here,

Is he that stroke thee: take thy full revenge,

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

I'le 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.

_Bell_. Fly, fly my Lord and save your self.

_Phi_. How's this?

Wouldst thou I should be safe?

_Bell_. Else it were vain

For me to live. These little wounds I have,

Ha' not bled much, reach me that noble hand,

I'le help to cover you.

_Phi_. Art thou true to me?

_Bell_. 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?

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

That I have wounded thee: what wilt thou do?

_Bell_. Shift for my self well: peace, I hear 'em come.

_Within_. Follow, follow, follow; that way they went.

_Bell_. With my own wounds I'le bloudy my own sword.

I need not counterfeit to fall; Heaven knows,

That I can stand no longer.

_Enter_ Pha. Dion, Cle. _and_ Thra.

_Pha_. To this place we have tract him by his bloud.

_Cle_. Yonder, my Lord, creeps one away.

_Di_. Stay Sir, what are you?

_Bell_. A wretched creature wounded in these Woods

By Beasts; relieve me, if your names be men,

Or I shall perish.

_Di_. This is he my Lord,

Upon my soul that hurt her; 'tis the boy,

That wicked boy that serv'd her.

_Pha_. O thou damn'd in thy creation!

What cause could'st thou shape to hurt the Princess?

_Bell_. Then I am betrayed.

_Di_. Betrayed! no, apprehended.

_Bell_. I confess;

Urge it no more, that big with evil thoughts

I set upon her, and did take my aim

Her death. For charity let fall at once

The punishment you mean, and do not load

This weary flesh with tortures.

_Pha_. I will know who hir'd thee to this deed?

_Bell_. Mine own revenge.

_Pha_. Revenge, for what?

_Bell_. It pleas'd her to receive

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

That men strid o're them carelesly, she did showr

Her welcome graces on me, and did swell

My fortunes, till they overflow'd their banks,

Threatning the men that crost '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 bestowed, 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.

_Pha_. If tortures can be found,

Long as thy natural life, resolve to feel

The utmost rigour.

[Philaster _creeps out of a bush_.

_Cle_. Help to lead him hence.

_Phi_. Turn back you ravishers of Innocence,

Know ye the price of that you bear away so rudely?

_Pha_. Who's that?

_Di_. 'Tis the Lord _Philaster_.

_Phi_. 'Tis 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 vertue. It was I that hurt the Princess.

Place me, some god, upon a _Piramis_,

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.

_Pha_. How's this?

_Bell_. My Lord, some man

Weary of life, that would be glad to die.

_Phi_. Leave these untimely courtesies _Bellario_.

_Bell_. Alas he's mad, come will you lead me on?

_Phi_. By all the Oaths that men ought most to keep:

And Gods do punish most, when men do break,

He toucht her not. Take heed _Bellario_,

How thou dost drown the vertues thou hast shown

With perjury. By all that's good 'twas I:

You know she stood betwixt me and my right.

_Pha_. Thy own tongue be thy judge.

_Cle_. It was _Philaster_.

_Di_. Is't not a brave boy?

Well Sirs, I fear we were all deceived.

_Phi_. Have I no friend here?

_Di_. Yes.

_Phi_. Then shew it;

Some good body lend a hand to draw us nearer.

Would you have tears shed for you when you die?

Then lay me gentle on his neck that there

I may weep flouds, and breath out my spirit:

'Tis not the wealth of _Plutus_, nor the gold

Lockt 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 Caesar_,

Had he been taken: you hard-hearted men,

More stony than these Mountains, can you see

Such clear pure bloud drop, and not cut your flesh

To stop his life? To bind whose better wounds,

Queens ought to tear their hair, and with their tears,

Bath 'em. Forgive me, thou that art the wealth of

poor _Philaster_.

[_Enter_ King, Arethusa _and a_ Guard.

_King_. Is the villain ta'ne?

_Pha_. Sir, here be two confess the deed; but say it was

_Philaster_.

_Phi_. Question it no more, it was.

_King_. The fellow that did fight with him will tell us.

_Are_. Ay me, I know he will.

_King_. Did not you know him?

_Are_. Sir, if it was he, he was disguised.

_Phi_. I was so. Oh my stars! that I should live still.

_King_. Thou ambitious fool;

Thou that hast laid a train for thy own life;

Now I do mean to do, I'le leave to talk, bear him

to prison.

_Are_. 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

(By all the love a Father bears his Child)

Their custodies, and that I may appoint

Their tortures and their death.

_Di_. Death? soft, our Law will not reach that, for this fault.

_King_. 'Tis granted, take 'em to you, with a Guard.

Come Princely _Pharamond_, this business past,

We may with more security go on to your intended match.

_Cle_. I pray that this action lose not _Philaster_ the hearts

of the people.

_Di_. Fear it not, their overwise heads will think it but a trick.

[_Exeunt Omnes_.

_Actus Quintus. Scena Prima_.

_Enter_ Dion, Cleremont, _and_ Thrasiline.

_Thra_. Has the King sent for him to death?

_Di_. Yes, but the King must know, 'tis not in

his power to war with Heaven.

_Cle_. We linger time; the King sent for _Philaster_ and the

Headsman an hour ago.

_Thra_. Are all his wounds well?

_Di_. All they were but scratches; but the loss of bloud

made him faint.

_Cle_. We dally Gentlemen.

_Thra_. Away.

_Di_. We'l scuffle hard before he perish.

[_Exeunt_.

_Enter_ Philaster, Arethusa, _and_ Bellario.

_Are_. Nay dear _Philaster_ grieve not, we are well.

_Bell_. Nay good my Lord forbear, we are wondrous well.

_Phi_. Oh _Arethusa_! O _Bellario_! leave to be kind:

I shall be shot 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 shew it me,

And then forget me: And for thee my boy,

I shall deliver words will mollifie

The hearts of beasts, to spare thy innocence.

_Bell_. Alas my Lord, my life is not a thing

Worthy your noble thoughts; 'tis not a life,

'Tis but a piece of child-hood thrown away:

Should I out-live, I shall then out-live

Vertue and honour. And when that day comes,

If ever I should close these eyes but once,

May I live spotted for my perjury,

And waste my limbs to nothing.

_Are_. And I (the woful'st maid as 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.

_Phi_. Make me not hated so.

_Are_. Come from this prison, all joyful to our deaths.

_Phi_. People will tear me when they find you true

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

Injoy your Kingdoms peaceably, whil'st 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.

_Are_. My dear Lord say not so.

_Bell_. A piece of you?

He was not born of women that can cut it and look on.

_Phi_. Take me in tears betwixt you,

For my heart will break with shame and sorrow.

_Are_. Why 'tis well.

_Bell_. Lament no more.

_Phi_. 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.

_Bell_. 'Twas mistaken, Sir.

_Phi_. Why if it were?

_Bell_. Then Sir we would have ask'd you pardon.

_Phi_. And have hope to enjoy it?

_Are_. Injoy it? I.

_Phi_. Would you indeed? be plain.

_Bell_. We would my Lord.

_Phi_. Forgive me then.

_Are_. So, so.

_Bell_. 'Tis as it should be now.

_Phi_. Lead to my death.

[_Exeunt_.

_Enter_ King, Dion, Cleremont, _and_ Thrasiline.

_King_. Gentlemen, who saw the Prince?

_Cle_. 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?

_Thra_. She waits your Grace.

_King_. Tell her we stay.

_Di_. King, you may be deceiv'd yet:

The head you aim at cost more setting on

Than to be lost so slightly: If it must off

Like a wild overflow, that soops 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 layes 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 ruines.

_Enter_ Phil. Are. _and_ Bell, _in a Robe and Garland_.

_King_. How now, what Mask is this?

_Bell_. Right Royal Sir, I should

Sing you an Epithalamium of these lovers,

But having lost my best ayres 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 layers, and slept

Free from the _Syrian_ Star, and the fell Thunder-stroke,

Free from the Clouds, when they were big with humour,

And delivered in thousand spouts, their issues to

the earth: O there was none but silent quiet there!

Till never pleas'd fortune shot up shrubs,

Base under brambles to divorce these branches;

And for a while they did so, and did raign

Over the Mountain, and choakt up his beauty

With Brakes, rude Thornes and Thistles, till thy Sun

Scorcht 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 divided: 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, how?

_Are_. Sir, if you love it in plain truth,

For there is no Masking in't; This Gentleman

The prisoner that you gave me is become

My keeper, and through all the bitter throws

Your jealousies and his ill fate have wrought him,

Thus nobly hath he strangled, and at length

Arriv'd here my dear Husband.

_King_. Your dear Husband! call in

The Captain of the Cittadel; There you shall keep

Your Wedding. I'le provide a Mask shall make

Your Hymen turn his Saffron into a sullen Coat,

And sing sad Requiems to your departing souls:

Bloud shall put out your Torches, and instead

Of gaudy flowers about your wanton necks,

An Ax 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

Cast amongst Dogs, or rob'd of his dear young,

The same inforc't more terrible, more mighty,

Expect from me.

_Are_. Sir,

By that little life I have left to swear by,

There's nothing that can stir me from my self.

What I have done, I have done without repentance,

For death can be no Bug-bear unto me,

So long as _Pharamond_ is not my headsman.

_Di_. Sweet peace upon thy soul, thou worthy maid

When ere thou dyest; for this time I'le excuse thee,

Or be thy Prologue.

_Phi_. Sir, let me speak next,

And let my dying words be better with you

Than my dull living actions; if you aime

At the dear life of this sweet Innocent,

Y'are a Tyrant and a savage Monster;

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 murther; 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 cloaths my ashes, not my faults)

Shall far out shine 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 your self, that in his birth shall strangle you.

Remember, my Father King; there was a fault,

But I forgive it: let that sin perswade you

To love this Lady. If you have a soul,

Think, save her, and be saved, for my self,

I have so long expected this glad hour,

So languisht under you, and daily withered,

That heaven knows it is my joy to dye,

I find a recreation in't.

_Enter a_ Messenger.

_Mess_. Where's the King?

_King_. Here.

_Mess_. Get you to your strength,

And rescue the Prince _Pharamond_ from danger,

He's taken prisoner by the Citizens,

Fearing the Lord _Philaster_.

_Di_. Oh brave followers;

Mutiny, my fine dear Country-men, mutiny,

Now my brave valiant foremen, shew your weapons

In honour of your Mistresses.

[_Enter another_ Messenger.

_Mess_. Arm, arm, arm.

_King_. A thousand devils take 'em.

_Di_. A thousand blessings on 'em.

_Mess_. Arm O King, the City is in mutiny,

Led by an old Gray Ruffin, who comes on

In rescue of the Lord _Philaster_.

[_Exit with_ Are. Phi. Bell.

_King_. Away to the Cittadel, I'le see them safe,

And then cope with these Burgers: Let the Guard

And all the Gentlemen give strong attendance.

[_Ex. King_.

[_Manent_ Dion, Cleremont, Thrasiline.

_Cle_. The City up! this was above our wishes.

_Di_. I and the Marriage too; by my life,

This noble Lady has deceiv'd us all, a plague upon my

self; a thousand plagues, for having such unworthy

thoughts of her dear honour: O I could beat my self,

or do you beat me and I'le beat you, for we had all one

thought.

_Cle_. No, no, 'twill but lose time.

_Di_. You say true, are your swords sharp? Well my dear

Country-men, what ye lack, if you continue and fall

not back upon the first broken shin, I'le have you

chronicled, and chronicled, and cut and chronicled

and all to be prais'd, and sung in Sonnets, and bath'd

in new brave Ballads, that all tongues shall troule you

_in Saecula Saeculorum_ my kind Can-carriers.

_Thra_. What if a toy take 'em i'th' heels now, and they

run all away, and cry the Devil take the hindmost?

_Di_. Then the same Devil take the foremost too, and

sowce him for his breakfast; if they all prove

Cowards, my curses fly amongst them and be

speeding. May they have Murreins raign to keep

the Gentlemen at home unbound in easie freeze:

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 oldness in their Stuffs, and make them shop-rid:

May they keep Whores and Horses, and break; and

live mued up with necks of Beef and Turnips: May

they have many children, and none like the Father:

May they know no language but that gibberish they

prattle to their Parcels, unless it be the goarish Latine

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 them;

how they swarm together! what a hum they raise;

Devils choak your wilde throats; If a man had need

to use their valours, he must pay a Brokage for it,

and then bring 'em on, they will fight like sheep.

'Tis _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 courtesie you can,

commend me to him. Oh my wits, my wits!

[_Exit_ Cle.

_Di_. Oh my brave Countrymen! as I live, I will not buy

a pin out of your walls for this; Nay, you shall cozen

me, and I'le 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 Prince, the gods

know, and I fear.

_Di_. Why Sir: they'l flea him, and make Church Buckets

on's skin to squench rebellion, then clap a rivet in's

sconce, and hang him up for a sign.

_Enter_ Cleremont _with_ Philaster.

_King_. O worthy Sir forgive me, do not make

Your miseries and my faults meet together,

To bring a greater danger. Be your self,

Still sound amongst Diseases, I have wrong'd you,

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

Let first your goodness know it. Calm the people,

And be what you were born to: take your love,

And with her my repentance, and my wishes,

And all my prayers, by the gods my heart speaks this:

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

May I be struck with Thunder.

_Phi_. 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'le either turn

Or perish with it.

_King_. Let your own word free them.

_Phi_. Then thus I take my leave kissing your hand,

And hanging on your Royal word: be Kingly,

And be not moved Sir, I shall bring your peace,

Or never bring my self back.

_King_. All the gods go with thee.

[_Exeunt Omnes_.

_Enter an old Captain and Citizens with_ Pharamond.

_Cap_. Come my brave Mirmidons let's fall on, let our caps

Swarm my boys, and you nimble tongues forget your mothers

Gibberish, of what do you lack, and set your mouths

Up Children, till your Pallats 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, King of Clubs,

Than your cold water Chamblets or your paintings

Spitted with Copper; let not your hasty Silks,

Or your branch'd Cloth of Bodkin, or your Tishues,

Dearly belov'd of spiced Cake and Custard,

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 un-cut Coller make the King feel

The measure of your mightiness _Philaster_.

Cry my Rose nobles, cry.

_All_. Philaster, Philaster.

_Cap_. How do you like this my Lord Prince, these are

mad boys, I tell you, these are things that will not

strike their top-sayles to a Foist. And let a man of

war, an Argosie hull and cry Cockles.

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

_Cap_. My Pretty Prince of Puppets, we do know,

And give your greatness warning, that you talk

No more such Bugs-words, or that soldred Crown

Shall be scratch'd with a Musket: Dear Prince Pippen,

Down with your noble bloud; or as I live,

I'le have you codled: let him lose 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 swear Prince;

I could hulk your Grace, and hang you up cross-leg'd,

Like a Hare at a Poulters, and do this with this wiper.

_Pha_. You will not see me murder'd wicked Villains?

_1 Cit_. Yes indeed will we Sir, we have not seen one fo[r]

a great while.

_Capt_. He would have weapons would he? give him a

Broad-side my brave boyes 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'le have him cut to the kell, then down

the seames, oh for a whip To make him Galoone-Laces,

I'le have a Coach-whip.

_Pha_. O spare me Gentlemen.

_Cap_. Hold, hold, the man begins to fear and know himself,

He shall for this time only be seal'd up

With a Feather through his nose, that he may only see

Heaven, and think whither he's going,

Nay beyond-Sea Sir, we will proclaim you, you would

be King Thou tender Heir apparent to a Church-Ale,

Thou sleight Prince of single Sarcenet;

Thou Royal Ring-tail, fit to fly at nothing

But poor mens Poultry, and have every Boy

Beat thee from that too with his Bread and Butter.

_Pha_. Gods keep me from these Hell-hounds.

_2 Cit_. Shall's geld him Captain?

_Cap_. 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 Cit_. I'le have a Leg that's certain.

_2 Cit_. I'le have an Arm.

_3 Cit_. I'le have his Nose, and at mine own charge build

a Colledge, and clap't upon the Gate.

_4 Cit_. I'le have his little Gut to string a Kit with,

For certainly a Royal Gut will sound like silver.

_Pha_. Would they were in thy belly, and I past my pain once.

_5 Cit_. Good Captain let me have his Liver to feed Ferrets.

_Cap_. Who will have parcels else? speak.

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

_1 Cit_. Captain, I'le give you the trimming of your hand-sword,

and let me have his Skin to make false Scabbards.

_2_. He had no horns Sir had he?

_Cap_. No Sir, he's a Pollard, what would'st thou do with horns?

_Cit_. O if he had, I would have made rare Hafts and

Whistles of 'em, but his Shin-bones if they be sound shall

serve me.

[_Enter_ Philaster.

_All_. Long live _Philaster_, the brave Prince _Philaster_.

_Phi_. I thank you Gentlemen, but why are these

Rude weapons brought abroad, to teach your hands

Uncivil Trades?

_Cap_. My Royal Rosiclear,

We are thy Mirmidons, thy Guard, thy Rorers,

And when thy noble body is in durance,

Thus do we clap our musty Murrions on,

And trace the streets in terrour: Is it peace

Thou _Mars_ of men? Is the King sociable,

And bids thee live? Art thou above thy foemen,

And free as _Phoebus_? Speak, if not, this stand

Of Royal blood shall be abroach, atilt, and run

Even to the lees of honour.

_Phi_. Hold and be satisfied, I am my self

Free as my thoughts are, by the gods I am.

_Cap_. Art thou the dainty darling of the King?

Art thou the _Hylas_ to our _Hercules_?

Do the Lords bow, and the regarded scarlets,

Kiss their Gumd-gols, and cry, we are your servants?

Is the Court Navigable, and the presence struck

With Flags of friendship? if not, we are thy Castle

And this man sleeps.

_Phi_. I am what I desire to be, your friend,

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

_Pha_. Sir, there is some humanity in you,

You have a noble soul, forget my name,

And know my misery, set me safe aboard

From these wild _Canibals_, and as I live,

I'le quit this Land for ever: there is nothing,

Perpetual prisonment, cold, hunger, sickness

Of all sorts, all dangers, and all together

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 those than endure one hour

Amongst these wild Dogs.

_Phi_. I do pity you: Friends discharge your fears,

Deliver me the Prince, I'le warrant you

I shall be old enough to find my safety.

_3 Cit_. Good Sir take heed he does not hurt you,

He's a fierce man I can tell you Sir.

_Cap_. Prince, by your leave I'le have a Sursingle,

And Male you like a Hawke.

[_He stirs_.

_Phi_. Away, away, there is no danger in him:

Alas he had rather sleep to shake his fit off.

Look you friends, how gently he leads, upon my word

He's tame enough, he need[s] 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

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.

_All_. Long maist thou live brave Prince, brave Prince,

brave Prince.

[_Exeunt_ Phi. _and_ Pha.

_Cap_. Thou art the King of Courtesie:

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 Muffes: we will have

Musick and the red grape shall make us

dance, and rise Boys.

[_Exeunt_.

_Enter_ King, Are. Gal. Meg. Cle. Dion, Thra. Bellario, _and Attendants_.

_King_. Is it appeas'd?

_Di_. Sir, all is quiet as this dead of night,

As peaceable as sleep, my Lord _Philaster_

Brings on the Prince himself.

_King_. Kind Gentlemen!

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.

_Cle_. My Lord is come.

_King_. My Son!

Blest be the time that I have leave to call

Such vertue mine; now thou art in mine arms,

Me thinks I have a salve unto my breast

For all the stings that dwell there, streams of grief

That I have wrought 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.

_Phi_. 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 you would go furnish'd to your Realm

With fair provision, I do see a Lady

Me thinks would gladly bear you company:

How like you this piece?

_Meg_. Sir, he likes it well,

For he hath tried it, and found it worth

His princely liking; we were ta'ne a bed,

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?

_Phi_. What mean you?

_Meg_. You must get another ship

To clear the Princess and the boy together.

_Di_. How now!

_Meg_. Others took me, and I took her and him

At that all women may be ta'ne sometimes:

Ship us all four my Lord, we can endure

Weather and wind alike.

_King_. Clear thou thy self, or know not me for Father.

_Are_. This earth, How false it is? what means is left for me

To clear my self? It lies in your belief,

My Lords believe me, and let all things else

Struggle together to dishonour me.

_Bell_. O stop your ears great King, that I may speak

As freedom would, then I will call this Lady

As base as be her actions, hear me Sir,

Believe [y]our hated bloud when it rebels

Against your reason sooner than this Lady.

_Meg_. By this good light he bears it hansomely.

_Phi_. This Lady? I will sooner trust the wind

With Feathers, or the troubled Sea with Pearl,

Than her with any thing; 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.

_Phi_. Command what ere it be.

_King_. Swear to be true to what you promise.

_Phi_. By the powers above,

Let it not be the death of her or him,

And it is granted.

_King_. Bear away the boy

To Torture, I will have her clear'd or buried.

_Phi_. O let me call my words 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.

_Phi_. 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 are hateful, but this last

Is pitifull, for I unwillingly

Have given the dear preserver of my life

[_Offers to kill himself_.]

Unto his Torture: is it in the power

Of flesh and blood, to carry this and live?

_Are_. Dear Sir be patient yet, or stay that hand.

_King_. Sirs, strip that boy.

_Di_. Come Sir, your tender flesh will try your

constancie.

_Bell_. O kill me gentlemen.

_Di_. No, help Sirs.

_Bell_. Will you Torture me?

_King_. Hast there, why stay you?

_Bell_. Then I shall not break my vow,

You know just gods, though I discover all.

_King_. How's that? Will he confess?

_Di_. Sir, so he says.

_King_. Speak then.

_Bell_. 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.

_Di_. Why speak'st thou not?

_Bell_. Know you this face my Lord?

_Di_. No.

_Bell_. Have you not seen it, nor the like?

_Di_. Yes, I have seen the like, but readily

I know not where.

_Bell_. 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, drest alike.

_Di_. By Heaven and so there is.

_Bell_. 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.

_Di_. But thou speak'st

As like _Euphrasia_ as thou dost look,

How came it to thy knowledge that she

lives in Pilgrimage?

_Bell_. I know it not my Lord,

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

_Di_. Oh my shame, is't possible? Draw near,

That I may gaze upon thee, art thou she?

Or else her Murderer? where wert thou born?

_Bell_. In _Siracusa_.

_Di_. What's thy name?

_Bell. Euphrasia_.

_Di_. O 'tis just, 'tis she now, I do know thee, Oh

that thou hadst died

And I had never seen thee nor my shame,

How shall I own thee? shall this tongue of mine

E're call thee Daughter more?

_Bell_. Would I had died indeed, I wish it too,

And so I must have done by vow, e're published

What I have told, but that there was no means

To hide it longer, yet I joy in this,

The Princess is all clear.

_King_. What have you done?

_Di_. All is discovered.

_Phi_. Why then hold you me?

_Di_. All is discovered, pray you let me go.

[He offers to stab himself_.]

_King_. Stay him.

_Are_. What is discovered?

_Di_. Why my shame, it is a woman, let her speak the rest.

_Phi_. How! that again.

_Di_. It is a woman.

_Phi_. Blest be you powers that favour innocence.

_King_. Lay hold upon that Lady.

_Phi_. It is a woman Sir, hark Gentlemen!

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 vertuous still to ages, in despight of malice.

_King_. Speak you, where lies his shame?

_Bell_. I am his Daughter.

_Phi_. The Gods are just.

_Di_. I dare accuse none, but before you two

The vertue of our age, I bend my knee

For mercy.

_Phi_. Take it freely; for I know,

Though what thou didst were undiscreetly done,

'Twas meant well.

_Are_. And for me,

I have a power to pardon sins as oft

As any man has power to wrong me.

_Cle_. Noble and worthy.

_Phi_. But _Bellario_,

(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 discovered,

What now we know.

_Bell_. My Father would oft speak

Your worth and vertue, and as I did grow

More and more apprehensive, I did thirst

To see the man so rais'd, but yet all this

Was but a Maiden longing to be lost

As soon as found, till sitting in my window,

Printing my thoughts in Lawne, I saw a God

I thought (but it was you) enter our Gates,

My bloud flew out, and back again as fast

As I had puft it forth, and suck't it in

Like breath, then was I call'd away in hast

To entertain you. Never was a man

Heav'd from a Sheep-coat to a Scepter rais'd

So high in thoughts as I, you left a kiss

Upon these lips then, which I mean to keep

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 stir'd it so, Alas I found it love,

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

In presence of you, I had had my end,

For this I did delude my noble Father

With a feign'd Pilgrimage, and drest my self

In habit of a boy, and, for I knew

My birth no match for you, I was past hope

Of having you. And understanding well

That 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,

Whilst there was hope to hide me from mens eyes,

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

Abide with you, then sate I by the Fount

Where first you took me up.

_King_. Search out a match

Within our Kingdom where and when thou wilt,

And I will pay thy Dowry, and thy self

Wilt well deserve him.

_Bell_. 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 vertues of her Lord and her,

I shall have hope to live.

_Are_. I _Philaster_,

Cannot be jealous, though you had a Lady

Drest 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,

Curst be the wife that hates her.

_Phi_. I grieve such vertues 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,

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

Worthy so great a Prince, when you come there,

Remember 'twas your faults that lost you her,

And not my purpos'd will.

_Pha_. I do confess,

Renowned Sir.

_King_. Last joyn your hands in one, enjoy _Philaster_

This Kingdom which is yours, and after me

What ever I call mine, my blessing on you,

All happy hours be at your Marriage joyes,

That you may grow your selves over all Lands,

And live to see your plenteous branches spring

Where ever 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_.