Coun. I pray you, friend, let me see the king. 2 Wood. That you shall, and receive thanks. Coun. If I get clear with this, I'll go to see no more gay sights. [Exeunt. Enter BELLARIO. Bel. 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 corse strewed o'er with you, Than quick above. 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. She will conceal who hurt her. He has wounds, Upon this sleeping boy! I have none, I think, It meant me well. Again, for pity's sake! Bel. Fly, fly, my lord, and save yourself. 'Wouldst thou I should be safe? Bel. Else were it vain For me to live. These little wounds I have Have not bled much; reach me that noble hand; I'll help to cover you. Phi. Art thou true to me? Bel. Or let me perish loathed! Come, my good lord, Creep in among those bushes: Who does know, But that the gods may save your much-loved breath? Phi. Then I shall die for That I have wounded thee. Bel. Shift for myself well. come. grief, if not for this, What wilt thou do? Peace! I hear them Within. Follow, follow, follow! that way they I went. Bel. With my own wounds I'll bloody my own sword. I need not counterfeit to fall; Heaven knows That I can stand no longer. Enter PHARAMOND, DION, CLEREMONT, and THRASILINE. Pha. To this place we have tracked him by his blood. Cle. Yonder, my lord, creeps one away. Bel. A wretched creature, wounded in these By beasts: Relieve me, if your names be men, Or I shall perish. Dion. This is he, my lord, Upon my soul, that hurt her: 'Tis the boy, Pha. Oh, thou damned in thy creation! What cause could'st thou shape to hurt the prin cess? As storms arise at sea, she turned her eyes Pha. If tortures can be found, [PHILASTER creeps out of a bush. Cle. Help to lead him hence. Phi. Turn back, ye ravishers of innocence! Know ye the price of that you bear away So rudely? Pha, Who's that? Dion. '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 virtue! It was I, that hurt the princess. Place me, some god, upon a pyramid Higher than hills of earth, and lend a voice Some good body lend a hand to draw us nearer. Bathe them. Forgive me, thou, that art the wealth Of poor Philaster. Enter KING, ARETHUSA, and a Guard. King. Is the villain taken? 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 that. Are. Ah me! I know he will. King. Thou ambitious fool! Thou, that hast laid a train for thy own life! Are. Sir, they did plot together to take hence Dion. Death? Soft! our law King. 'Tis granted; take them to you, with a Come, princely Pharamond, this business past, Cle. I pray, that this action lose not Philaster the hearts of the people. Dion. Fear it not: their over-wise heads will think it but a trick. [Exeunt. ACT V. Enter DION, CLEREMONT, and THRASILINE. Thra. Has the king sent for him to death? Dion. 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? False to a pair of the most trusty ones, The hearts of beasts, to spare thy innocence. Dion. All they were but scratches; but the Worthy your noble thoughts: 'Tis not a life; loss of blood made him faint. 'Tis but a piece of childhood thrown away. Are. And I (the woful'st maid that ever was, Phi. Make me not hated so. Are. Come from this prison, all joyful to our deaths. Phi. People will tear me, when they find ye true To such a wretch as I; I shall die loathed. He was not born of woman, that can cut Phi. Take me in tears betwixt you, For else my heart will break with shame and sor row. Are. Why, 'tis well. Bel. Lament no more. Phi. What would you have done, If you had wronged me basely, and had found My life no price, compared to yours? For love, sirs, Deal with me truly. Bel. 'Twas mistaken, sir. Phi. Why, if it were? And wanting a celestial harp to strike Free from the Sirian star, and the fell thunder- Free from the clouds, when they were big with humour, And delivered, in thousand spouts, their issues Oh, there was none but silent quiet there! Bel. Then, sir, we would have asked you par- And now a gentle gale hath blown again, Enter KING, DION, CLEREMONT, and King. Gentlemen, who saw the prince? city King. Is the princess ready To bring her prisoner out? Dion. King, you may be deceived yet: roots Held out a thousand storms, a thousand thunders, Enter PHILASTER, ARETHUSA, and BELLARIO King. How now! what masque is this? That made these branches meet, and twine toge ther, Never to be divided. The god, that sings Hath knit their noble hearts, and here they stand Are. Sir, if you love it in plain truth, King. Your dear husband! Call in From this time do I shake all title off Of father to this woman, this base woman; Are. Sir, by that little life I've left to swear There's nothing that can stir me from myself. So long as Pharamond is not my headsman. Dion. Sweet peace upon thy soul, thou worthy maid, Whene'er thou diest! For this time I'll 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 aim Mes. Get you to your strength, Dion. You say true. Are your swords sharp? Well, my dear countrymen What-d'ye-lack, if you continue, and fall not back upon the first broken shin, I'll have you chronicled and chronicled, and cut and chronicled, and sung in all-to-be-praised sonnets, and graved in new brave ballads, that all tongues shall troule you in sæcula sæculorum, my kind can-carriers. Thra. What if a toy take them in the heels now, and they run all away, and cry, the devil take the hindmost?" Dion. Then the same devil take the foremost too, and souse him for his breakfast! If they all prove cowards, my curses fly amongst them, and be speeding! May they have murrains rain to keep the gentlemen at home, unbound in easy frieze! May the moths branch their velvets, and their silks only be worn before sore eyes! May their false lights undo them, 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 mewed 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 Gothic Latin 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 And rescue the prince Pharamond from danger: hum they raise! Devils choke your wild throats! He's taken prisoner by the citizens, Fearing the lord Philaster. Dion. Oh, brave followers! Mutiny, my fine dear countrymen, mutiny ! Now, my brave valiant foremen, shew your weapons In honour of your mistresses. Enter another Messenger. Mes. Arm, arm, arm! King. A thousand devils take them! Dion. A thousand blessings on them! Mes. Arm, oh, king! The city is in mutiny, Led by an old grey ruffian, who comes on In rescue of the lord Philaster. [Exit with ARE. PHI. BEL. King. Away to the citadel; I'll see them safe, And then cope with these burghers. Let the guard, And all the gentlemen, give strong attendance. [Exit. Manent DION, CLEREMONT, THrasiline. Cle. The city up! this was above our wishes. Dion. Ay, and the marriage too. By my life, This noble lady has deceived us all. A plague upon myself, a thousand plagues, For having such unworthy thoughts of her dear honour! Oh, I could beat myself! or, do you beat me, And I'll beat you; for we had all one thought. Cle. No, no, 'twill but lose time. If a man had need to use their valours, he must pay a brokage for it, and then bring them on, and 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 courtesy you can; commend me to him! Oh, my wits, my wits! [Exit CLE. Dion. 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'll 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. Dion. Why, sir, they'll flea him, and make church-buckets of his skin, to quench rebellion; then clap a rivet in his sconce, and hang him up for a sign. Enter CLEREMONT with PHILASTER, King. Oh, worthy sir, forgive me! Do not make Your miseries and my faults meet together, ple, And the poor boy, and let me stand the shock Of this mad sea-breach; which I'll 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 you peace, Or never bring myself back. King. All the gods go with thee! [Exeunt. Enter an Old Captain and Citizens, with PHA RAMOND. Cap. Come, my brave myrmidons, let's fall on! let our caps swarm, my boys, and your nimble tongues forget your mother's gibberish, of what dy'e lack, and set your mouths up, children, till your palates 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 dingdongs, my pairs of dear indentures, kings of clubs, than your cold water camlets, or your paintings spotted with copper. Let not your hasty silks, or your branched cloth of bodkin, or your tissues, dearly beloved of spiced cake and custard, your Robinhoods, Scarlets and Johns, tie your affections in darkness to your shops. No, dainty duckers, up with your threepiled spirits, your wrought valours; and let your uncut choler 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-sails to a foist; and let a man of war, an argosy, 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 bug-words, or that soldered crown shall be scratched with a musquet. Dear prince Pippen, down with your noble blood; or, as I live, I'll have you coddled. Let him loose, 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 sweat, prince?) I could hulk your grace, and hang you up cross-legged, like a hare at a poulterer's, and do this with this wiper. Pha. You will not see me murdered, wicked villains? 1 Cit. Yes, indeed, will we, sir: We have not seen one foe a great while. Cap. He would have weapons, would he? Give him a broadside, my brave boys, with your pikes; branch me his skin in flowers like a sattin, and between every flower a mortal cut. Your royalty shall ravel! Jag him, gentlemen: I'll have him cut to the kell, then down the seams. Oh, for a whip to make him galloon-laces! I'll have a coachwhip. Pha. Oh, spare me, gentlemen! Cap. Hold, hold; the man begins to fear, and know himself; he shall for this time only be seeled up, with a feather through his nose, that he may only see heaven, and think whither he is going. Nay, my beyond-sea sir, we will proclaim you: You would be king! Thou tender heir-apparent to a church-ale, thou slight 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'll have a leg, that's certain. 3 Cit. I'll have his nose, and at mine own charge build a college, and clap it upon the gate. 4 Cit. I'll 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 at 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 tortured. 1 Cit. Captain, I'll give you the trimming of your two-hand sword, and let me have his skin to make false scabbards. 2 Cit. He has no horns, sir, has he? Cap. No, sir, he's a pollard. What would'st thou do with horns? 2 Cit. Oh, if he had, I would have made rare hafts and whistles of them; but his shin-bones, if they be sound, shall serve me. |