Draw neere thou guiltie man,That are the author of the loathedst crimeFive ages have brought forth, and heare me speakeCurses incurable, and all the evilsMans bodie or his spirit can receiveBe with thee.
Gob.
Why Sir doe you curse me thus?
Arb.
Why doe I curse thee, if there be a manSubtill in curses, that exceedes the rest,His worst wish on thee. Thou hast broke my hart.
Gob.
How Sir? Have I preserv'd you from a childe,From all the arrowes, malice or ambitionCould shoot at you, and have I this for pay?
Arb.
Tis true thou didst preserve me, and in thatWert crueller then hardned murderersOf infants and their mothers; thou didst save meOnely till thou hadst studdied out a wayHow to destroy me cunningly thy selfe:This was a curious way of torturing.
Gob.
What doe you meane?
Arb.
Thou knowst the evils thou hast done to me,Dost thou remember all those witching lettersThou sentst unto me toArmenia,Fild with the praise of my beloved Sister,Where thou extolst her beautie; what had ITo doe with that, what could her beautie beTo me, and thou didst write how well shee lov'd me,Doest thou remember this: so that I doatedSomething before I saw her.
Gob.
This is true.
Arb.
Is it, and I when I was returnd thou knowstThou didst pursue it, till thou woundst mee intoSuch a strange, and unbeleev'd affection,As good men cannot thinke on.
Gob.
This I grant, I thinke I was the cause.
Arb.
Wert thou? Nay more, I thinke thou meantst it.
Gob.
Sir I hate a lie.As I love God and honestie, I did:It was my meaning.
Arb.
Be thine owne sad Judge,A further condemnation will not need:Prepare thy selfe to die.
Gob.
Why Sir to die?
Arb.
Why wouldst thou live, was ever yet offenderSo impudent, that had a thought of mercyAfter confession of a crime like this?Get out I cannot, where thou hurlst me in,But I can take revenge, that's all the sweetnesseLeft for me.
Gob.
Now is the time, heare me but speake.
Arb.
No, yet I will be farre more mercifullThen thou wert to me; thou didst steale into me,And never gavest me warning: so much timeAs I give thee now, had prevented theeFor ever. Notwithstanding all thy sinnes,If thou hast hope, that there is yet a prayerTo save thee, turne, and speake it to your selfe.
Gob.
Sir, you shall know your sinnes before you doe umIf you kill me.
Arb.
I will not stay then.
Gob.
Know you kill your Father.
Arb.
How?
Gob.
You kill your Father.
Arb.
My Father? though I know it for a lieMade out of feare to save thy stained life:The verie reverence of the word comes crosse me,And ties mine arme downe.
Gob.
I will tell you that shall heighten you againe, I am thyFather, I charge thee heare me.
Arb.
If it should be so,As tis most false, and that I should be foundA bastard issue, the dispised fruiteOf lawlesse lust, I should no more admireAll my wilde passions: but another truthShall be wrung from thee: If I could come byThe spirit of paine, it should be powr'd on thee,Till thou allowest thy selfe more full of liesThen he that teaches thee.
Enter Arane.
Arane.
Turne thee about,I come to speake to thee thou wicked man,Heare me thou Tyrant.
Arb.
I will turne to thee,Heare me thou Strumpet: I have blotted outThe name of mother, as thou hast thy shame.
Ara.
My shame, thou hast lesse shame then anything:Why dost thou keepe my daughter in a prison?Why dost thou call her Sister, and doe this?
Arb.
Cease thou strange impudence, and answere quickly,If thou contemn'st me, this will aske an answere,And have it.
Ara.
Helpe me gentleGobrius.
Arb.
Guilt dare not helpe guilt, though they grow togetherIn doing ill, yet at the punishmentThey sever, and each flies the noyse of other,Thinke not of helpe, answere.
Ara.
I will, to what?
Arb.
To such a thing as if it be a truth,Thinke what a creature thou hast made thy selfe,That didst not shame to doe, what I must blushOnely to aske thee: tell me who I am,Whose sonne I am, without all circumstance;Be thou as hastie, as my Sword will beIf thou refusest.
Ara.
Why you are his sonne.
Arb.
His sonne?Sweare, sweare, thou worse then woman damn'd.
Ara.
By all thats good you are.
Arb.
Then art thou all that ever was knowne bad. Now isThe cause of all my strange misfortunes come to light:What reverence expects thou from a childeTo bring forth which thou hast offended Heaven,Thy husband and the Land: Adulterous witchI know now why thou wouldst have poyson'd me,I was thy lust which thou wouldst have forgot:Thou wicked mother of my sinnes, and me,Shew me the way to the inheritanceI have by thee: which is a spacious worldOf impious acts, that I may soone possesse it:Plagues rott thee, as thou liv'st, and such diseasesAs use to pay lust, recompence thy deed.
Gob.
You doe not know why you curse thus.
Arb.
Too well:You are a paire of Vipers, and beholdThe Serpent you have got; there is no beastBut if he knew, it has a pedigreeAs brave as mine, for they have more discents,And I am every way as beastly got,As farre without the compasse of a law,As they.
Ara.
You spend your rage, and words in vaine,And raile upon a guesse: heare us a little.
Arb.
No I will never heare, but talke awayMy breath, and die.
Gob.
Why but you are no Bastard.
Arb.
Howe's that?
Ara.
Nor childe of mine.
Arb.
Still you goe on in wonders to me.
Gob.
Pray be more patient, I may bring comfort to you.
Arb.
I will kneele,And heare with the obedience of a childe;Good Father speake, I doe acknowledge you,So you bring comfort.
Gob.
First know our last King your supposed FatherWas olde and feeble when he marryed her,And almost all the Land as shee past hopeOf issue from him.
Arb.
Therefore shee tooke leaveTo play the whoore, because the King was old:Is this the comfort?
Ara.
What will you find outTo give me satisfaction, when you findHow you have injur'd me: let fire consume mee,If ever I were whore.
Gob.
Forbeare these starts,Or I will leave you wedded to despaire,As you are now: if you can find a temper,My breath shall be a pleasant westerne wind,That cooles, and blastes not.
Arb.
Bring it out good Father,He lie, artd listen here as reverentlieAs to an Angell: If I breathe too loude,Tell me; for I would be as still as night.
Gob.
Our King I say was old, and this our QueeneDesired to bring an heire; but yet her husbandShee thought was past it, and to be dishonestI thinke shee would not; if shee would have beene,The truth is, shee was watcht so narrowlie,And had so slender opportunitie,Shee hardly could have beene: But yet her cunningFound out this way; shee fain'd her selfe with child,And postes were sent in haste throughout the Land,And God was humbly thankt in every Church,That so had blest the Queen, and prayers were madeFor her safe going, and deliverie:Shee fain'd now to grow bigger, and perceiv'dThis hope of issue made her feard, and broughtA farre more large respect from everie man.And saw her power increase, and was resolv'd,Since shee believ'd shee could not have't indeede;At least shee would be thought to have a child.
Arb.
Doe I not heare it well: nay, I will makeNo noise at all; but pray you to the point,Quicke as you can.
Gob.
Now when the time was full,Shee should be brought abed; I had a sonneBorne, which was you: This the Queene hearing of,Mov'd me to let her have you, and such reasonsShee shewed me, as shee knew would tieMy secresie: shee sware you should be King;And to be short, I did deliver youUnto her, and pretended you were dead;And in mine owne house kept a Funerall,And had an emptie coffin put in earth:That night the Queene fain'd hastilie to labour,And by a paire of women of her owne,Which shee had charm'd, shee made the world believeShee was deliver'd of you: you grew upAs the Kings sonne, till you were six yeere olde;Then did the King die, and did leave to meProtection of the Realme; and contrarieTo his owne expectation, left this QueeneTruly with Childe indeed of the faire PrincessePanthea: Then shee could have torne her heire,And did alone to me yet durst not speakeIn publike; for shee knew shee should be foundA Traytor, and her talke would have beene thoughtMadnesse or any thing rather then truth:This was the onely cause why shee did seekeTo poyson you, and I to keepe you safe:And this the reason why I sought to kindleSome sparke of love in you to fairePanthea,That shee might get part of her right agen.
Arb.
And have you made an end now, is this all?If not, I will be still till I am aged,Till all my heires are silver.
Gob.
This is all.
Arb.
And is it true say you Maddam?
Ara.
Yes, God knowes it is most true.
Arb.
Pantheathen is not my Sister.
Gob.
No.
Arb.
But can you prove this?
[Gob.]
If you will give consent: else who dare goe about it.
Arb.
Give consent?Why I will have them all that know it racktTo get this from um: All that waites withoutCome in, what ere you be come in, and bePartakers of my Joy: O you are welcome.
Ent. Mar: Bessus, and others.
Mardoniusthe best newes, nay, draw no neerer They all shall heare it: I am found no King.
Mar.
Is that so good newes?
Art.
Yes, the happiest newes that ere was heard.
Mar.
Indeed twere well for you,If you might be a little lesse obey'd.
Arb.
On, call the Queene.
Mar.
Why she is there.
Arb.
The QueeneMardonius,Pantheais the Queene,And I am plaineArbaces, goe some one,She is inGobriushouse; since I saw youThere are a thousand things delivered to meYou little dreame of.
Mar.
So it should seeme: My Lord,What furi's this.
Gob.
Beleeve me tis no fury,All that he sayes is truth.
Mar.
Tis verie strange.
Arb.
Why doe you keepe your hats off Gentlemen,Is it to me? in good faith it must not be:I cannot now command you, but I pray youFor the respect you bare me, when you tookeMe for your King, each man clap on his hat at my desire.
Mar.
We will: but you are not foundSo meane a man, but that you may be cover'dAs well as we, may you not?
Arb.
O not here,You may, but not I, for here is my Father in presence.
Mar.
Where?
Arb.
Why there: O the whole storieWould be a wildernesse to loose thy selfeFor ever; O pardon me deare Father,For all the idle, and unreverent wordsThat I have spoke in idle moodes to you:I amArbaces, we all fellow subjects,Nor is the QueenePantheanow my Sister.
Bes.
Why if you remember fellow subjectArbaces, I tolde you once she was not your sister, I say she look't nothing like you.
Arb.
I thinke you did good CaptaineBessus.
Bes.
Here will arise another question now amongst the Swordmen, whether I be to call him to account for beating me, now he's prov'd no King.
Enter Ligones.
Ma.
Sir, heresLigonesThe Agent for the Armenian King.
Arb.
Where is he, I know your businesse goodLigones.
Lig.
We must have our King againe, and will.
Arb.
I knew that was your businesse, you shall haveYou King againe, and have him so againeAs never King was had. Goe one of youAnd bidBacuriusbringTigraneshither,And bring the Ladie with him, thatPantheaThe QueenePantheasent me word this morningWas braveTigranesmistresse.
Lig.
TisSpaconia.
Arb.
I, I,Spaconia.
Lig.
She is my daughter.
Arb.
Shee is so, I could now tell any thingI never heard; your King shall goe so homeAs never man went.
Mar.
Shall he goe on's head?
Arb.
He shall have Chariots easier than ayreThat I will have invented; and nere thinkeHe shall pay any ransome; and thy selfeThat art the Messenger shall ride before himOn a Horse cut out of an entire Diamond,That shall be made to goe with golden wheeles,I know not how yet.
Lig.
Why I shall be madeFor ever, they belied this King with usAnd sayd he was unkind.
Arb.
And then thy daughter,She shall have some strange thinke, wele have the KingdomeSold utterly, and put into a toy.Which she shall weare about her careleslySome where or other.See the vertuous Queene.
Enter Pan.
Behold the humblest subject that you haveKneele here before you.Pan. Why kneele youTo me that am your vassall?
Arb.
Grant me one request.
Pan.
Alas, what can I grant you?What I can I will.
Arb.
That you will please to marry me,If I can prove it lawfull.
Pan.
Is that all?More willingly, then I would draw this ayre.
Arb.
Ile kisse this hand in earnest.
Mar.
Sir,Tigranesis comming though he made it strangeTo see the Princesse any more.
Arb.
The Queene,
Enter Tig. and Spa.
Thou meanest: O my Tigranes pardon me,Tread on my necke I freely offer it,And if thou beest so given; take revenge,For I have injur'd thee.
Tig.
No, I forgive,And rejoice more that you have found repentance,Then I my libertie.
Arb.
Maist thou be happieIn thy faire choice; for thou art temperate:You owe no ransome to the state, know that;I have a thousand joyes to tell you of,Which yet I dare not utter, till I payMy thankes to Heaven for um: will you goeWith me, and helpe me; pray you doe.
Tig.
I will.
Arb.
Take then your faire one with you and your QueeneOf goodnesse, and of us; O give me leaveTo take your arme in mine: Come every oneThat takes delight in goodnesse, helpe to singLoude thankes for me, that I am prov'd no King.
The following verse variations have also been noted between theAct printed above from A and the quartos B, C, D and G.
p. 434, ll. 46 and 47. B, C, D, G] two lines,hint, rope.
p. 436, ll. 19 and 20. B—D] two lines,better, Grandsire.
p. 437, ll. 16—18. B, C, D, G] six lines,Whore, satisfied, Dancer, Musilians, thee, whore.
p. 438, ll. 40 and 41. B, C, D, G] four lines,laming, fall, Sword-men, Stock-fish.
p. 442, ll. 22 and 23. B, C, D, G] two lines,in-, affection.
p. 443, ll. 24 and 25. B, C, D, G] three lines,impudence, me, answere. ll. 44 and 45. Three lines,All, cause, light.
p. 446, ll. 17 and 18. B, C, D, G] one line,This. ll. 19 and 20. B, C, D, G] one line,Truth. l. 26. Two lines,hat, desire.
p. 447, ll. 16 and 17. B, C, D, G] two lines,ever, us. ll. 23 and 24. B, C, D, G] one line,Queene. ll. 29 and 30. B, C, D, G] one line,will.