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 meAs 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 loveTo sit cross arm'd and sigh away the day,Mingled with starts, crying your name as loudAnd 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 onceAs 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 allMy eyes will do to lead me to my bed.
Gal. I fear they are so heavy, you'l scarce findThe way to your lodging with 'em to night.
[ EnterPharamond.
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 aHilas, anAdonis.
Pha. His form is Angel-like.
Meg. Why this is he, must, when you are wed,Sit by your pillow, like youngApollo, withHis 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 BuckTo 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 KingIs up still, see, he comes, a Guard alongWith 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 youngPharamondCome 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 makeA vain discovery of our suspicion.You gods I see, that who unrighteouslyHolds wealth or state from others, shall be curst,In that, which meaner men are blest withall:Ages to come shall know no male of himLeft to inherit, and his name shall beBlotted from earth; If he have any child,It shall be crossly matched: the gods themselvesShall sow wild strife betwixt her Lord and her,Yet, if it be your wills, forgive the sinI have committed, let it not fallUpon 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 thisLarum by him; once more,Pharamond, Prince.
[Pharamondabove.
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 youTo 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 comeThrough 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 youChafe your self so? you are not wrong'd, nor shall be;Onely I'le search your lodging, for some causeTo 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 youTo 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 StaggOr 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 withMegra.
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 pieceMade by a Painter and a Pothecary;Thou troubled sea of lust; thou wilderness,Inhabited by wild thoughts; thou swoln cloudOf 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 LadyVenus?
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 manyMore of my own; I will have fellows, and suchFellows in it, as shall make noble mirth;The Princess, your dear Daughter, shall stand by meOn 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 boyShe 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 notDo 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 faultAs you would keep your health from the hot airOf the corrupted people, or by heaven,I will not fall alone: what I have known,Shall be as publick as a print: all tonguesShall speak it as they do the language theyAre born in, as free and commonly; I'le set itLike a prodigious star for all to gaze at,And so high and glowing, that other Kingdoms farand ForreignShall read it there, nay travel with it, till they findNo 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 waitOn 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 studyTo forget you.
[Ex. King, Meg.andGuard.
Cle. Why here's a Male spirit forHercules, 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 godsThat rais'd this Punishment to scourge the KingWith his own issue: Is it not a shameFor us, that should write noble in the land;For us, that should be freemen, to beholdA 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 castInto the hands of that lascivious Lady,That lives in lust with a smooth boy, now to beMarried to yon strange Prince, who, but that peoplePlease 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 aidPhilaster, let the gods forget,That such a Creature walks upon the earth.
Cle.Philasteris too backward in't himself;The Gentry do await it, and the peopleAgainst their nature are all bent for him,And like a field of standing Corn, that's mov'dWith a stiff gale, their heads bow all one way.
Di. The only cause that drawsPhilasterbackFrom 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.
[EnterPhilaster.
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 knowLives in your breast, forth, rise, and make a head,The Nobles, and the people are all dull'dWith this usurping King: and not a manThat ever heard the word, or knew such a thingAs vertue, but will second your attempts.
Phi. How honourable is this love in youTo me that have deserv'd none? Know my friends(You that were born to shame your poorPhilaster,With too much courtesie) I could affordTo melt my self in thanks; but my designsAre not yet ripe, suffice it, that ere longI shall imploy your loves: but yet the time is short ofwhat I would.
Di. The time is fuller Sir, than you expect;That which hereafter will not perhaps be reach'dBy 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 mindHad been of honour; thus to rob a LadyOf 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 sownAmongst the people, fruitful to increaseAll evil they shall hear. Let me alone,That I may cut off falshood, whilst it springs.Set hills on hills betwixt me and the manThat 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 youWhy 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 beenAs 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 oneShould 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 swordTo 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 answerThe readiest way.
Di. All the gods direct you.
Thra. He was extream impatient.
Cle. It was his vertue and his noble mind.
[ExeuntDi. Cle.andThra.
Phi. I had forgot to ask him where he took them,I'le follow him. O that I had a seaWithin my breast, to quench the fire I feel;More circumstances will but fan this fire;It more afflicts me now, to know by whomThis 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 onceTheir spleens away; and they will fall againUnto 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,
[EnterBellario.
He walks still; and the face you let him wearWhen he was innocent, is still the same,Not blasted; is this justice? Do you meanTo intrap mortality, that you allowTreason so smooth a brow? I cannot nowThink he is guilty.
Bell. Health to you my Lord;The Princess doth commend her love, her life,And this unto you.
Phi. OhBellario,Now I perceive she loves me, she does shew itIn 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 womenThat love black deeds, learn to dissemble here,Here, by this paper she does write to me,As if her heart were Mines of AdamantTo 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 wereSomething allied to her; or had preserv'dHer 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 youthWith all her loving secrets; and does call meHer pretty servant, bids me weep no moreFor leaving you: shee'l see my servicesRegarded; and such words of that soft strain,That I am nearer weeping when she endsThan ere she spake.
Phi. This is much better still.
Bell. Are you ill my Lord?
Phi. Ill? NoBellario.
Bell. Me thinks your wordsFall 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 charmsOf love between us, by the hope of peaceWe should enjoy, to yield thee all delightsNaked, as to her bed: I took her oathThou should'st enjoy her: Tell me gentle boy,Is she not paralleless? Is not her breathSweet asArabianwinds, 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 thoughtsWere so perplext. When first I went to her,My heart held augury; you are abus'd,Some villain has abus'd you; I do seeWhereto 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; ComeThou 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 aidHer base desires; but what I came to knowAs servant to her, I would not reveal, to makemy 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 leastThat dwells within thee, or will rip thy heartTo 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 HellAnd 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 cursethee now.
Bell. If you do hate you could not curse me worse;The gods have not a punishment in storeGreater 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 lieTo save my life, may I live long and loath'd.Hew me asunder, and whilst I can thinkI'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 thenThy 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 thoughtOf 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 swearSo earnestly, that if it were not true,The gods would not endure him. RiseBellario,Thy protestations are so deep; and thouDost look so truly, when thou utterest them,That though I [know] 'em false, as were my hopes,I cannot urge thee further; but thou wertTo blame to injure me, for I must loveThy honest looks, and take no revenge uponThy tender youth; A love from me to theeIs firm, what ere thou dost: It troubles meThat I have call'd the blood out of thy cheeks,That did so well become thee: but good boyLet 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 farAs there is morning, ere I give distasteTo that most honour'd mind. But through these tearsShed at my hopeless parting, I can seeA 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 beA tear shed from you in my memorie,And I shall rest at peace.
[ExitBel.
Phi. Blessing be with thee,What ever thou deserv'st. Oh, where shall IGo bath thy body? Nature too unkind,That made no medicine for a troubled mind!
[Exit. Phi.
EnterArethuse.
Are. I marvel my boy comes not back again;But that I know my love will question himOver and over; how I slept, wak'd, talk'd;How I remembred him when his dear nameWas 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 thenYour 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 oneShame 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.
[ExitKing.
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 nourishmentOut of defamings, grow upon disgraces,And when they see a vertue fortifiedStrongly above the battery of their tongues;Oh, how they cast to sink it; and defeated(Soul sick with Poyson) strike the MonumentsWhere noble names lie sleeping: till they sweat,And the cold Marble melt.
EnterPhilaster.
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 CrystalsRun 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 nightsIn stories of your praise? Who shall singYour crying Elegies? And strike a sad soulInto senseless Pictures, and make them mourn?Who shall take up his Lute, and touch it, tillHe crown a silent sleep upon my eye-lid,Making me dream and cry, Oh my dear, dearPhilaster.
Phi. Oh my heart!Would he had broken thee, that made thee knowThis Lady was not Loyal. Mistress, forgetThe boy, I'le get thee a far better.
Are. Oh never, never such a boy again, as myBellario.
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. FalseArethusa! 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 everArethusa. Oh you gods,Give me a worthy patience; Have I stoodNaked, alone the shock of many fortunes?Have I seen mischiefs numberless, and mightyGrow li[k]e a sea upon me? Have I takenDanger 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 languishingHears his sad Bell, and sees his Mourners? Do IBear all this bravely, and must sink at lengthUnder a womans falshood? Oh that boy,That cursed boy? None but a villain boy, to easeyour 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 haveTo 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 wovenWith 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 aChaos,That love cannot distinguish. These sad TextsTill my last hour, I am bound to utter of you.So farewel all my wo, all my delight.
[ExitPhi.
Are. Be merciful ye gods and strike me dead;What way have I deserv'd this? make my breastTransparent as pure Crystal, that the worldJealous of me, may see the foulest thoughtMy heart holds. Where shall a woman turn her eyes,To find out constancy? Save me, how black,
[EnterBell.
And guilty (me thinks) that boy looks now?Oh thou dissembler, that before thou spak'stWert in thy cradle false? sent to make lies,And betray Innocents; thy Lord and thou,May glory in the ashes of a MaidFool'd by her passion; but the conquest isNothing so great as wicked. Fly away,Let my command force thee to that, which shameWould do without it. If thou understoodstThe loathed Office thou hast undergone,Why, thou wouldst hide thee under heaps of hills,Lest men should dig and find thee.
Bell. Oh what GodAngry with men, hath sent this strange diseaseInto the noblest minds? Madam this griefYou add unto me is no more than dropsTo 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 godsAssist you in your sufferings; hasty timeReveal the truth to your abused Lord,And mine: That he may know your worth: whilst IGo seek out some forgotten place to die.
[ExitBell.
Are. Peace guide thee, th'ast overthrown me once,Yet if I had anotherTroyto 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 aLady
La. Madam, the King would hunt, and calls for you With earnestness.
Are. I am in tune to hunt!Dianaif 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.
EnterKing, 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 forgottenYour venial trespass, let not that sit heavyUpon 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 shothim between wind and water, and I hope sprung a leak.
Thra. He needs no teaching, he strikes sure enough; hisgreatest 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 camefrom Churching with her Neighbour; why, what a Devilcan a man see in her face, but that she's honest?
Pha. Troth no great matter to speak of, a foolish twinklingwith the eye, that spoils her Coat; but he must be acunning 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 twoWoodmen.
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 SirTristram; 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 LadyGalatea.
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.
EnterPhilaster.
Phi. Oh, that I had been nourished in these woodsWith Milk of Goats, and Acorns, and not knownThe right of Crowns, nor the dissembling TrainsOf Womens looks; but dig'd my self a Cave,Where I, my Fire, my Cattel, and my BedMight have been shut together in one shed;And then had taken me some Mountain Girl,Beaten with Winds, chast as the hardened RocksWhereon she dwells; that might have strewed my BedWith leaves, and Reeds, and with the Skins of beastsOur Neighbours; and have born at her big breastsMy large course issue. This had been a life freefrom vexation.
[EnterBellario.
Bell. Oh wicked men!An innocent man may walk safe among beasts,Nothing assaults me here. See, my griev'd LordSits as his soul were searching out a way,To leave his body. Pardon me that mustBreak 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?