Gal. I fear, they are so heavy, you'll scarce find | Yet, if it be your wills, forgive the sin The way to your lodging with them to night. Enter PHARAMOND, Thra. The prince! Pha. Not a-bed, ladies? You're good sitters up. What think you of a pleasant dream, to last Till morning? Enter ARETIUSA and BELLARIO. Are. Tis well, my lord; you're courting of ladies. Is't not late, gentlemen? Cle. Yes, madam. Are. Wait you there. [Exit. Meg. She's jealous, as I live. Look you, my lord, The princess has a Hilas, an Adonis. Pha. His form is angel-like. Dion.'Tis a sweet boy; how brave she keeps him. Pha. Ladies all, good rest; I mean to kill a buck To-morrow morning, ere you've done your dreams. [Exit. Gen Meg. All happiness attend your grace! tlemen, good rest. Come, shall we to-bed? Gal. Yes; all good night. [Er. Gal. and Meg. Dion. 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, Dion. What should this mean? That lady had much better have embraced Ereunt Are. and Bel. I have committed. But how can I Enter DION. Dion. Sir, I have asked, and her women swear she is within; I told them, I must speak with her; they laughed, and said, their lady lay speechless. I said, my business was important; they said, their lady was about it: I grew hot, and cried, my business was a matter, that concerned life and death; they answered, so was sleeping, at which their lady was. I urged again, she had scarce time to be so, since last I saw her; they smiled again, and seemed 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 of the guard, Wait at the back door of the prince's lodging, Pha. What saucy groom knocks at this dead of night? Where be our waiters? By my vexed soul, Pha. I have some private reasons to myself, Make me unmannerly, and say, you cannot.' King. Haste, some of you, and cunningly dis- Nay, press not forward, gentlemen; he must Cover 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. Ye gods, I see, that who unrighteously Holds wealth, or state, from others, shall be curst Come through my life, that comes here. [Enters. King. Sir, be resolved. I must and will come. Pha. I'll not be dishonoured. He, that enters, enters upon his death. King. Now, lady of honour, where's your honour now? now? No man can fit your palate, but the prince. By all those gods you swore by, and as many. Urge me no more; I know her, know the boy King. What boy is this she raves at? I am loth to reveal them. Keep this fault, Shall read it there, nay travel with it, 'till they find 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'll study to forget you. Meg. Do you study to forget me, and I'll study To forget you. [Ex. King, Meg. and guard. Cle. Why, here's a male spirit for Hercules. Dion. Sure she has a garrison of devils in her tongue, she uttereth such balls of wild-fire. She has so nettled 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, chaste, virtuous lady's 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'll go wander with you. [Exeunt. ACT Enter CLEREMONT, DION, and THRASILINE. Cle. NAY, doubtless, 'tis true. That raised this punishment, to scourge the king Thra. That man, that would not stir with you Cle. Philaster is too backward in it 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 moved With a stiff gale, their heads bow all one way. III. Dion. 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'll not believe it. Dion. Why, gentlemen, 'Tis without question so. Cle. Ay, 'tis past speech, She lives dishonestly: But how shall we, Thra. We are all satisfied within ourselves. I'll Thra. Twill move him, Enter PHILAster. Dion. Here he comes. Good-morrow to your honour! We have spent Some time in seeking you. Phil. My worthy friends, You that can keep your memories to know Dion. My good lord, We come to urge that virtue, which we know Phi. How honourable is this love in you To me, that have deserved none? Know, my friends, (You, that were born to shame your poor Philaster Dion. The time is fuller, sir, than you expect: Dion. Is loathed as much as he. Phi. Thou liest, [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 pardoned: Be it false as hell, Twill never be redeemed, if it be sown Amongst the people, fruitful to increase All evil they shall hear. Let me alone, That I may cut off falsehood, 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. Dion. This is most strange: Sure he does love her. Phi. I do love fair truth: She is my mistress, and who injures her, Phi. I ask you pardon, sir; My zeal to truth made ine unmannerly : Phi. Oh, say not so! good sir, forbear to say so! Dion. Why, she was taken at it. Phi. Tis false! Oh, Heaven! 'tis false! it cannot be! 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 tempered? Cle. Never before. Phi. The winds, that are let loose From the four several corners of the earth, Dion. Why, my lord, are you so moved at this? Phi. When any falls from virtue, I'm distract; I have an interest in't. Dion. But, good my lord, recall yourself, Phi. I thank you; I will do it. Dion. All the gods direct you Thra. He was extreme impatient. Cle. It was his virtue, and his noble mind. [Exeunt Dion, Cle. and Thra. Phi. Oh, 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. Oh, that, like beasts, we could not grieve ourselves, With that we see not! Bulls and rams will fight To keep their females, standing in their sight; Now I perceive she loves me; she does shew it In loving thee, my boy: She has made thee brave. Bel. 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.-Oh, let That love black deeds, learn to dissemble here, Bel. Scarce like her servant, but as if I were Phi. Why, this is wondrous well : But what kind language does she feed thee with? Bel. Why, she does tell me, she will trust my youth With all her loving secrets; and does call me Phi. This is much better still. Bel. Methinks, your words Fall not from off your tongue so evenly, That I was wont to see. Phi. Thou art deceived, boy: And she strokes thy head? Bel. Yes. Phi. And she does clap thy cheeks? Phi, And she does kiss thee, boy? ha! Bel. How, my lord? Phi. She kisses thee? Bel. Not so, my lord. Phi. Come, come, I know she does. Phi. Why then she does not love me. Come, she does. I bad her do it. I charged her, by all charms Is she not paralleless? Is not her breath Bel. Ay, now I see why my disturbed thoughts Come Thou shalt know all my drift: I hate her more Phi. Oh, my heart! The gods have not a punishment in store Phi. Fie, fie, so young and so dissembling! Phi. Fearest thou not death? Can boys contemn that? Bel. Oh, what boy is he Can be content to live to be a man, That sees the best of men thus passionate, Phi. Oh, but thou dost not know Bel. Yes, I do know, my lord: 'Tis less than to be born; a lasting sleep, A quiet resting from all jealousy; 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 perjured souls: Think but on these, and then Thy heart will melt, and thou wilt utter all. Bel. May they fall all upon me whilst I live, If I be perjured, 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 To blame to injure me, for I must love Bel. I will fly as far As there is morning, ere I give distaste And ten thousand such; I should be angry at his stay. Enter KING. King, What, at 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? King. What kind of boy? Are. I think he be not ugly: King. He speaks, and sings and plays? King. About eighteen? Are. I never asked his age. King. Is he full of service? Are. By your pardon, why do you ask? Are. Sir! King. Put him away! he has done you that good service, Shames me to speak of. Are. Good sir, let me understand King. If you fear me, Shew it in duty: Put away that boy. you. 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. You're one Shame with me, and so near unto myself, That, by my life, I dare not tell myself, What you, myself, 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 grammar. Understand me well; To that most honoured mind. But through these There be foul whispers stirring. Cast him off, And suddenly Do it! Farewell. : [Exit King. Are. Where may a maiden live securely free, Keeping her honour safe? Not with the living; They feed upon opinions, errors, dreams, And make them truths; they draw a nourishment Out of defamings, grow upon disgraces; And, when they see a virtue fortified Strongly above the battery of their tongues, Oh, how they cast to sink it; and, defeated, (Soul-sick with poison) strike the monuments, Where noble names lie sleeping; till they sweat, And the cold marble melt. |