Pha. I will know Who hired thee to this deed. Bel. Mine own revenge. Me as her page, and, when my fortunes ebbed, As storms arise at sea, she turned her eyes Pha. If tortures can be found, The utmost rigour. [Philaster creeps out of a bush. Phi. Turn back, ye ravishers of innocence! 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. Pha. How's this? Bel. My lord, some man Weary of life, that would be glad to die. Phi. Leave these untimely courtesies, Bellario. Bel. Alas, he's mad! Come, will you lead me on? Phi. By all the oaths, that men ought most to keep, And gods to punish most, when men do break, Dion. Is't not a brave boy? Well, sirs, I fear me, we were all deceived. Dion. 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 gently on his neck, that there I may weep floods, and breathe out my spirit. 'Tis not the wealth of Plutus, nor the gold Locked in the heart of earth, can buy away This armful from me: This had been a ransom. To have redeemed the great Augustus Cæsar, Had he been taken. You hard-hearted men, More stony than these mountains, can you see Such clear pure blood drop, and not cut your flesh To stop his life? To bind whose bitter wounds, Queens ought to tear their hair, and with their Are. Ah 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! Are. Sir, they did plot together to take hence I shall be shot from Heaven, as now from earth, you continue so. I am a man, If False to a pair of the most trusty ones, Bel. Alas, my lord, my life is not a thing, Are. And I (the woful'st maid that ever was, Forced 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 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 If row. Are. Why, 'tis well. Bel. Lament no more. Phi. What would you have done, 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? Bel. Then, sir, we would have asked you par don. Phi. And have hope to enjoy it? Phi. Would you, indeed? Be plain. Phi. Forgive me, then. Are. So, so. Bel. 'Tis as it should be now. Phi. Lead to my death. [Exeunt. Enter KING, DION, CLEREMONT, and King. Gentlemen, who saw the prince? city, And the new platform, with some gentlemen King. Is the princess ready Dion. King, you may be deceived yet: The head, you aim at, cost more setting on Than to be lost so lightly. If it must off, Like a wild overflow, that swoops 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 Enter PHILASTER, ARETHUSA, and BELLARIO King. How now! what masque is this? Sing you an epithalamium of these lovers, But, having lost my best airs with my fortunes, 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 to❘ Oh, there was none but silent quiet there! And now a gentle gale hath blown again, 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 gods! Hear, ye From this time do I shake all title off Are. Sir, by that little life I have left to swear There's nothing that can stir me from myself. What I have done, I've done without repentance; So long as Pharamond is not my headsman. Whene'er thou diest! For this time I'll excuse Or be thy prologue. Phi. Sir, let me speak next; And let my dying words be better with you Manent DION, CLEREMONT, THRASILINE. Oh, I could beat myself! or, do you beat me, Dion. You say true. Are your swords sharp? Well, my dear countrymen What-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, un'wound 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 Gothick 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 hum they raise! Devils choke your wild throats! 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, aud 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. 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 do you 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 three-piled spirits, your wrought valours; and let your uncut choler make the king feel the measure of your mightiness. Philaster! cry, my rosenobles, 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 scams. Oh, for a whip to make him galloon-laces! I'll have a coach-whip. 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! 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. tured. 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? Uncivil trades? Cap. My royal Rosiclear, We are thy myrmidons, thy guard, thy roarers! Phi. Hold, and be satisfied: I am myself; 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 gummed golls, and cry, we are your servants?' 6 Is the court navigable, and the presence stuck With flags of friendship? If not, we are thy. castle, And this man sleeps. Phi. I am what I do 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 cannibals, and, as I live, There is nothing, I'll quit this land for ever. Perpetual imprisonment, cold, hunger, sickness Of all sorts, of all dangers, and all together, The worst company of the worst men, madness, |