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calls you,

Thi. Well, I will die,

The touch of nature in you, tenderness! In spite of all your potions ! One of you sleep; 'Tis all the soul of woman, all the sweetness: Lie down and sleep here, that I may behold Forget not, I beseech you, what are children, What blessed rest it is my eyes are robb’d of! Nor how you have groan'd for them; to what See, he can sleep, sleep any where, sleep now,

love When he that wakes for him can never slumber ! They are born inheritors, with what care kept; Is't not a dainty case?

And, as they rise to ripeness, still remember 2 Doctor. Your grace shall feel it.

How they imp out your age! and when time Thi. Oh, never, never I! The eyes of Heaven See but their certain motions, and then sleep; That as an autumn flower you fall, forget not The rages of the ocean have their slumbers, How round about your hearse they hang, like And quiet silver calms; each violence

penons ! Crowns in his end a peace; but my fix'd fires Brun. Holy fool, Shall never, never set!--Who's that?

Whose patience to prevent my wrongs has kill'd

thee, Enter MARTELL, BRUNHALT, DE VITRY, and

Preach not to me of punishments or fears,
Soldiers.

Or what I ought to be; but what I am,
Mart. No, woman,

A woman in her liberal will defeated, Mother of mischief, no! the day shall die first, In all her greatness cross’d, in pleasure blasted! And all good things live in a worse than thou art, My angers have been laugh'd at, my ends slighted, Ere thou shalt sleep! Dost thou see him? And all those glories that had crown'd my forBrun. Yes, and curse him;

tunes, And all that love him, fool, and all live by him. Suffer’d by blasted virtue to be scatter'd: Mart. Why art thou such a monster?

I am the fruitful mother of these angers, Brun. Why art thou

And what such have done, read, and know thy So tame a knave to ask me?

ruin ! Jlart. Hope of hell,

Thi. Heav'n forgive you ! By this fair holy light, and all his wrongs,

Mart. She tells you true; for millions of her Which are above thy years, almost thy vices,

mischiefs Thou shalt not rest, not feel more what is pity, Are now apparent: Protaldye we have taken, Know nothing necessary, meet no society An equal agent with her, to whose care, But what shall curse and crucify thee, feel in thy- After the damn'd defeat on you, she trusted self

Enter Messenger. Nothing but what thou art, bane and bad conscience,

The bringing-in of Leonor the bastard, 'Till this man rest; but for whose reverence, Son to your

murder'd brother : Her physician Because thou art his mother, I would say, By this time is attach'd to that damn'd devil. Whore, thus shall be! Do you nod? I'll waken Mess. 'Tis like he will be so; for ere we came, you

Fearing an equal justice for his mischiefs, With my sword's point.

He drench'd himself. Brun. I wish no more of Heaven,

Brun. He did like one of mine then! Nor hope no more, but a sufficient anger

Thi. Must I still see these miseries? no night To torture thee!

To hide me from their horrors? That Protaldye Mart. See, she that makes you see, sir ! See justice fall upon! And to your misery, still see your mother, Brun. Now I could sleep too. The mother of your woes, sir, of your waking,

Mart. I'll give you yet more poppy: Bring The mother of your peoples' cries and curses,

the lady, Your murdering mother, your malicious mother!

Enter ORDELLA. Thi. Physicians, half my state to sleep an hour now !

And Heav'n in her embraces give himn quiet! Is it so, mother?

Madam, unveil yourself. Brun. Yes, it is so, son;

Orá. I do forgive you ; And, were it yet again to do, it should be. And tho' you sought my blood, yet I'll pray

for Mart. She nods again; swinge her!

you. Thi. But, mother,

Brun. Art thou alive?
For yet I love that reverence, and to death Murt. Now could you sleep?
Dare not forget you have been so) was this, Brun. For ever.
This endless misery, this cureless malice,

Mart. Go carry her without wink of sleep, or This snatching from me all my youth together,

quiet, All that you made me for, and happy mothers Where her strong knave Protaldye's broke o’th' Crown'd with eternal time are proud to finish,

wheel, Done by your will ?

And let his cries and roars be musick to her! Brun. It was, and by that will

I mean to waken her.
Thi. Oh, mother, do not lose your name! for- Thi. Do her no wrong!

Mart. Nor right, as you love justice !

get not

Brun. I will think ;

Thi. Kiss me again! And if there be new curses in old nature,

Ord. The same still, still your servant. I have a soul dare send them!

Thi. 'Tis she! I know her now, Martell. Sit Mart. Keep her waking ! [Erit BRUN.

down, sweet! Thi. What's that appears so sweetly? There's Oh, bless’d and happiest woman !-A dead slumthat face-

ber Mart. Be moderate, lady!

Begins to creep upon me: Oh, my jewel!
Thi. That angel's face-
Mart. Go nearer.

Enter Messenger and MEMBERGE.
Thi. Martell, I cannot last long! See the soul Ord. Oh, sleep, my lord !
(I see it perfectly) of my Ordella,

Thi. My joys are too much for me! The heav'nly figure of her sweetness, there! Mess. Brunhalt, impatient of her constraint Forgive me, gods! it comes ! Divinest substance!

to see Kneel, kneel, kneel, every one! Saint of thy sex, Protaldye tortur'd, has choak'd herself. If it be for my cruelty thou comest

Mart. No more!
Do ye see her, hoa?

Her sins go with her!
Mart. Yes, sir ; and you shall know her. Thi. Love, I must die; I faint:
Thi. Down, down again !--To be reveng'd for Close up my glasses !
blood !

i Doctor. The queen faints too, and deadly. Sweet spirit, I am ready. She smiles on me! Thi. One dying kiss! Oh, blessed sign of peace !

Ord. My last, sir, and my dearest! Mart. Go nearer, lady.

And now, close my eyes too! Ord. I come to make you happy.

Thi. Thou perfect woman !Thi. Hear you that, sirs ?

Martell, the kingdom's yours : Take Memberge She comes to crown my soul: Away, get sacri

to you, fice!

And keep my line alive :-Nay, weep not, lady! Whilst I with holy honours

Take me! I go. Mart. She's alive, sir.

Ord. Take me too! Farewell, Honour ! Thi. In everlasting life; I know it, friend :

(Die both. Oh, happy, happy soul !

2 Doctor. They're gone for ever. Ord. Alas, I live, sir;

Mart. The peace of happy souls go after them A mortal woman still.

Bear them unto their last beds, whilst I study Thi. Can spirits weep too?

A tomb to speak their loves whilstold Time lasteth. Mart. She is no spirit, sir ; pray kiss her. I am your king in sorrows. Lady,

Omnes. We your subjects ! Be very gentle to him!

Mart. De Vitry, for your services, be near us. Thi. Stay! She's warm ;

Whip out these instruments of this mad mother And, by my life, the same lips! Tell me, bright- From court, and all good people; and, because ness,

She was born noble, let that title find her Are you the same Ordella still ?

A private grave, but neither tongue nor honour Mart. The same, sir,

And now leadon !--They that shall read this story, Whom beav'ns and my good angel stay'd from Shall find that virtụe lives in good, not glory. ruin.

(Exeunt omnes.

PHILASTER;

OR

LOVE LIES A-BLEEDING.

BY

BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER.

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

cess.

The king's guard and train.
MEN.

WOMEN.
KING.
PHILASTER, heir to the crown.

ARETHUSA, the king's daughter.
PHARAMOND, prince of Spain.

GALATEA, a wise modest Lady, attending the prinDion, a lord. CLEREMONT,

MEGRA, a lascivious lady. THRASILINE, noble gentlemen, his associates.

An old Wanton Lady, or crone, attending the An old captain.

princess. Fire citizens.

Another Lady attending the princess. A country fellow.

EUPHRASIA, daughter of Dion, but disguised like Two woodmen.

a page, and called Bellario. SCENE,-Sicily.

}

ACT I.

Dion. Sir, it is, without controversy, so meant. Enter Dion, CLEREMONT, and THRASILINE.

But 'twill be a troublesome labour for him to Cle. Here's nor lords nor ladies!

enjoy both these kingdoins with safety, the right Dion. Credit me, gentlemen, I wonder at it. heir to one of them living, and living so virtuThey received strict charge from the king to at- ously; especially, the people admiring the bratend here. Besides, it was boldly published, that very of his mind, and lamenting his injuries. no officer should forbid any gentlemen, that de- Cle. Who? Philaster? sire to attend and hear.

Dion, Yes; whose father, we all know, was Cle. Can you guess the cause?

by our late king of Calabria unrighteously depoDion. Sir, it is plain, about the Spanish prince, sed from his fruitful Sicily. Myself drew some that's come to marry our kingdom's heir, and be lood in those wars, which I would give my hand our sovereign.

to be washed from. Thra. Many, that will seem to know much, Cle. Sir, my ignorance in state policy will not say, she looks not on him like a maid in love, let me know, why, Philaster being heir to one of

Dion. Oh, sir, the multitude (that seldom know these kingdoms, the king should suffer him to any thing but their own opinions) speak that, walk abroad with such free liberty. they would have; but the prince, before his own Dion. Sir, it seems your nature is more conapproach, received so many confident messages stant than to enquire after state news. But the from the state, that I think she's resolved to be king, of late, made a hazard of both the kingdoms, ruled.

of Sicily and his own, with offering but to impriCle. Sir, it is thought, with her he shall enjoy son Philaster. At which the city was in arins, both these kingdoms of Sicily and Calabria. not to be charmed down by any state order or

vants.

proclamation, till they saw Philaster ride through | To plant you deeply, our immediate heir, the streets pleased, and without a guard; at which Both to our blood and kingdoms. For this lady they threw their hats, and their arins from them; (The best part of your life, as you confirm me, some to make bonfires, some to drink, all for his And I believe) though her few years and sex deliverance. Which, wise men say, is the cause, Yet teach her nothing but her fears and blushes, the king labours to bring in the power of a foreign Desires without desire, discourse and knowledge nation, to awe his own with.

Only of what herself is to herself,

Make her feel moderate health; and when she Enter GALATEA, MEGRA, and a Lady.

sleeps, Thra. See, the ladies. What's the first? In making no ill day, knows no ill dreams.

Dion. A wise and modest gentlewoman that Think not, dear sir, these undivided parts, attends the princess.

That must mould up a virgin, are put on Cle. The second ?

To shew her so, as borrowed ornaments, Dion. She is one that may stand still discreet- To speak her perfect love to you, or add ly enough, and ill-favour’dly dance her measure;

An artificial shadow to her nature : simper when she is courted by her friend, and No, sir; I boldly dare proclaim her, yet slight her husband.

No woman.

But woo her still, and think her Cle. The last ?

modesty Dion. Marry, I think she is one whom the A sweeter mistress than the offered language state keeps for the agents of our confederate Of any dame, were she a queen, whose eye princes. She'll cog and lye with a whole army, Speaks common loves and comforts to her serbefore the league shall break: Her name is common through the kingdom, and the trophies of Last, noble son (for so I now must call you), her dishonour advanced beyond Hercules' pillars. What I have done this public, is not only She loves to try the several constitutions of men's To add a comfort in particular bodies; and indeed, has destroyed the worth of To you or me, but all; and to confirm her own body, by making experiments upon it, The nobles, and the gentry of these kingdoms, for the good of the commonwealth,

By oath to your succession, which shall be
Cle. She is a profitable member.

Within this month at most.
La. Peace, if you love me! shall sec these Thra. This will be hardly done.
gentlemen stand their ground, and not court us. Cle. It must be ill done, if it be done.
Gal. What if they should ?

Dion. When 'tis at best, 'twill be but
Meg. What if they should?

half done, whilst La. Nay, let her alone. What if they should? So brave a gentleman's wronged, and Why, if they should, I say they were never a

flung off.

>Aside. broad.

Thra. I fear.
What foreigner would do so ? it writes them Cle. Who does not ?
Directly untravelled.

Dion. I fear not for myself, and yet I
Gal. Why, what if they be?

fear too. Mey. What if they be?

Well, we shall see, weshall see. Nomore. Lu. Good madam, let her go on. What if Pha. Kissing your white hand, mistress, I take they be? Why if they be, I will justify, they can

leave not maintain discourse with a judicious lady, nor To thank your royal father; and thus far make a leg, nor say excuse me.

To be my own free trumpet. Understand, Gal. Ha, ha, ha!

Great king, and these your subjects, mine that La. Do you laugh, madam?

must be, Dion. Your desires upon you, ladies.

(For so deserving you have spoke me, sir, La. Then you must sit beside us.

And so deserving I dare speak myself) Dion. I shall sit near you then, lady.

To what a person, of what eminence, . La. Near me, perhaps: But there's a lady en- Ripe expectation, of what faculties, dures no stranger; and to me you appear a very

Manners and virtues, you would wed your kingstrange fellow,

doms: Meg. Methinks, he's not so strange; he would You in me have your wishes. Oh, this country! quickly be acquainted.

By more than all my hopes I hold it happy; Thra. Peace, the king.

Happy, in their dear memories, that have been Enter KING, PHARAMOND, ARETHUSA, and

Kings great and good; happy in, yours, that is;

And from you (as a chronicle to keep train. .

Your noble name from eating age) do I King. To give a stronger testimony of love Open myself most happy. Gentlemen, Than sickly promises (which commonly

Believe me in a word, a prince's word, In princes find both birth and burial

There shall be nothing to make up a kingdom In one breath), we have drawn you, worthy sir, Mighty and flourishing, defenced, feared, To make your fair endearments to our daughter, Equal to be commanded and obeyed, And worthy services known to our subjects, But through the travels of my life I'll find it, Now loved and wondered at. Next, our intent, 'And tie it to this country. And I vow.

well appear

My reign shall be so easy to the subject, Into her hidden bowels. Prince, it shall ;
That every man shall be his prince himself,

By Nemesis, it shall !
And his own law (yet I his prince and law). Pha. He's mad; beyond cure, mad.
And, dearest lady, to your dearest self

Dion. Here is a fellow has some fire in his veins : (Dear, in the choice of him whose name and lus- The outlandish prince looks like a tooth-drawer. tre

Phi. Sir prince of poppingjays, I'll make it Must make you more and mightier) let me say, You are the blessed'st living; for, sweet princess, To you, I am not mad. You shall enjoy a man of men, to be

King. You displease us : Your servant;

You are too bold. You shall make him yours, for whom

Phi. No, sir, I am too tame, Great queens must die.

Too much a turtle, a thing born without passion, Thru. Miraculous !

A faint shadow, that every drunken cloud sails Cle. This speech calls him Spaniard,

Aside.

over, being nothing but a large inventory of

And makes nothing. his own commendations.

King. I do not fancy this.

Call our physicians: Sure he is somewhat tainted. Enter PullASTER.

Thra. I do not think 'twill prove so. Dion. I wonder what's his price? For certainly Dion. He has given him a general purge already, He'll sell himself, he has so praised his shape.- for all the right he has; and now he means to But here comes one, more worthy those large let him blood. Be constant, gentlemen : By these speeches,

hilts, I'll run his hazard, although I run my name Than the large speaker of them.

out of the kingdom. Let me be swallowed quick, if I can find,

Cle. Peace, we are all one soul. In all the anatomy of yon man's virtues,

Pha. What you have seen in me, to stir offence, One sinew sound enough to promise for him, I cannot find ; unless it be this lady, He shall be constable.

Offered into mine arins, with the succession : By this sun, he'll never make king

Which I must keep, though it hath pleased your Unless it be for trifles, in my poor judgment.

fury Phi. Right noble sir, as low as my obedience, To mutiny within you; without disputing And with a heart as loyal as my knee,

Your genealogies, or taking knowledge I beg your favour.

Whose branch you are. The king will leave it hing. Rise; you have it, sir.

me; Dion. Mark but the king, how pale he looks And I dare make it mine. You have your answer. with fear!

Phi. If thou wert sole inheritor to him, Oh! this same whorson conscience, how it jades That made the world his, and couldst see no sun us!

Shine upon any thing but thine; were Pharamond King. Speak your intents, sir.

As truly valiant as I feel him cold, Phi. Shall I speak them freely?

And ringed among the choicest of his friends Be still my royal sovereign

(Such as would blush to talk such serious follies, king. As a subject,

Or back such bellied commendations,) We give you freedom.

And from this presence, spite of all these bugs, Dwn. Now it heats.

You should hear further from me. Phi. Then thus I turn

King. Sir, you wrong the prince : My language to you, prince; you, foreign man! I gave you not this freedom to brave our best Ne'er stare, nor put on wonder, for you must

friends. Endure me, and you shall. This earth you tread You deserve our frown. Go to; be better temupon

pered. (A dowry, as you hope, with this fair princess) Phi. It must be, sir, when I am nobler used. By my dead father (oh, I had a father,

Gal. Ladies, Whose memory I bow to !) was not left This would have been a pattern of succession, To your inheritance, and I up and living ; Had'he ne'er met this mischief. By my life, Having myself about me, and my sword,

He is the worthiest the true name of man The souls of all my name, and memories, This day within my knowledge. These arins, and some few friends, besides the Meg. I cannot tell what you may call your gods;

knowledge; To part so calmly with it, and sit still,

But th other is the man set in

my eye. And say, “ I might have been.' I tell thee, Pha-Oh, 'tis a prince of wax ! ramond,

Gal. A dog it is. When thou art king, look I be dead and rotten, King. Philaster, tell me And my name ashes : For, hear me, Pharamond! | The injuries you aim at, in your riddles. This very ground, thou goest on, this fat earth, Phi. If you had my eyes, sir, and sufferance, My father's friends made fertile with their faiths, My griefs upon you, and my broken fortunes, Before that day of shame, shall gape and swallow My wants great, and now nought but hopes and Thee and thy nation, like a hungry grave,

fears,

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