Chapter II: Part 2

_Di_. I, and 'tis the gods
That rais'd this Punishment to scourge the King
With his own issue: Is it not a shame
For us, that should write noble in the land;
For us, that should be freemen, to behold
A 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 cast
Into the hands of that lascivious Lady,
That lives in lust with a smooth boy, now to be
Married to yon strange Prince, who, but that people
Please 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 aid _Philaster_, let the gods forget,
That such a Creature walks upon the earth.

_Cle_. _Philaster_ is too backward in't 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 mov'd
With a stiff gale, their heads bow all one way.

_Di_. 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'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.

[ _Enter_ Philaster.

_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 know
Lives in your breast, forth, rise, and make a head,
The Nobles, and the people are all dull'd
With this usurping King: and not a man
That ever heard the word, or knew such a thing
As vertue, but will second your attempts.

_Phi_. How honourable is this love in you
To me that have deserv'd none? Know my friends
(You that were born to shame your poor _Philaster_,
With too much courtesie) I could afford
To melt my self in thanks; but my designs
Are not yet ripe, suffice it, that ere long
I shall imploy your loves: but yet the time is short of
what I would.

_Di_. The time is fuller Sir, than you expect;
That which hereafter will not perhaps be reach'd
By 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 mind
Had been of honour; thus to rob a Lady
Of 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 sown
Amongst the people, fruitful to increase
All evil they shall hear. Let me alone,
That I may cut off falshood, 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.

_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 you
Why 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 been
As 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 one
Should 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 sword
To 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 answer
The readiest way.

_Di_. All the gods direct you.

_Thra_. He was extream impatient.

_Cle_. It was his vertue and his noble mind.

[_Exeunt_ Di. Cle. _and_ Thra.

_Phi_. I had forgot to ask him where he took them,
I'le follow him. O 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.
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 once
Their spleens away; and they will fall again
Unto 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,

[_Enter_ Bellario.

He walks still; and the face you let him wear
When he was innocent, is still the same,
Not blasted; is this justice? Do you mean
To intrap mortality, that you allow
Treason so smooth a brow? I cannot now
Think he is guilty.

_Bell_. Health to you my Lord;
The Princess doth commend her love, her life,
And this unto you.

_Phi_. Oh _Bellario_,
Now I perceive she loves me, she does shew it
In 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 women
That love black deeds, learn to dissemble here,
Here, by this paper she does write to me,
As if her heart were Mines of Adamant
To 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 were
Something allied to her; or had preserv'd
Her 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 youth
With all her loving secrets; and does call me
Her pretty servant, bids me weep no more
For leaving you: shee'l see my services
Regarded; and such words of that soft strain,
That I am nearer weeping when she ends
Than ere she spake.

_Phi_. This is much better still.

_Bell_. Are you ill my Lord?

_Phi_. Ill? No _Bellario_.

_Bell_. Me thinks your words
Fall 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 charms
Of love between us, by the hope of peace
We should enjoy, to yield thee all delights
Naked, as to her bed: I took her oath
Thou should'st enjoy her: Tell me gentle boy,
Is she not paralleless? Is not her breath
Sweet as _Arabian_ winds, 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 thoughts
Were so perplext. When first I went to her,
My heart held augury; you are abus'd,
Some villain has abus'd you; I do see
Whereto 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; Come
Thou 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 aid
Her base desires; but what I came to know
As servant to her, I would not reveal, to make
my 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 least
That dwells within thee, or will rip thy heart
To 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 Hell
And 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 curse
thee now.

_Bell_. If you do hate you could not curse me worse;
The gods have not a punishment in store
Greater 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 lie
To save my life, may I live long and loath'd.
Hew me asunder, and whilst I can think
I'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 then
Thy 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 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
So earnestly, that if it were not true,
The gods would not endure him. Rise _Bellario_,
Thy protestations are so deep; and thou
Dost look so truly, when thou utterest them,
That though I [know] 'em false, as were my hopes,
I cannot urge thee further; but thou wert
To blame to injure me, for I must love
Thy honest looks, and take no revenge upon
Thy tender youth; A love from me to thee
Is firm, what ere thou dost: It troubles me
That I have call'd the blood out of thy cheeks,
That did so well become thee: but good boy
Let 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 far
As there is morning, ere I give distaste
To that most honour'd mind. But through these tears
Shed at my hopeless parting, I can see
A 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 be
A tear shed from you in my memorie,
And I shall rest at peace.

[_Exit_ Bel.

_Phi_. Blessing be with thee,
What ever thou deserv'st. Oh, where shall I
Go bath thy body? Nature too unkind,
That made no medicine for a troubled mind!

[_Exit_. Phi.

_Enter_ Arethuse.

_Are_. I marvel my boy comes not back again;
But that I know my love will question him
Over and over; how I slept, wak'd, talk'd;
How I remembred him when his dear name
Was 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 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. Y'are one
Shame 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.

[_Exit_ King.

_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 nourishment
Out of defamings, grow upon disgraces,
And when they see a vertue fortified
Strongly above the battery of their tongues;
Oh, how they cast to sink it; and defeated
(Soul sick with Poyson) strike the Monuments
Where noble names lie sleeping: till they sweat,
And the cold Marble melt.

_Enter_ Philaster.

_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 Crystals
Run 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 nights
In stories of your praise? Who shall sing
Your crying Elegies? And strike a sad soul
Into senseless Pictures, and make them mourn?
Who shall take up his Lute, and touch it, till
He crown a silent sleep upon my eye-lid,
Making me dream and cry, Oh my dear, dear _Philaster_.

_Phi_. Oh my heart!
Would he had broken thee, that made thee know
This Lady was not Loyal. Mistress, forget
The boy, I'le get thee a far better.

_Are_. Oh never, never such a boy again, as my _Bellario_.

_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_. False _Arethusa_!
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 ever _Arethusa_. Oh you gods,
Give me a worthy patience; Have I stood
Naked, alone the shock of many fortunes?
Have I seen mischiefs numberless, and mighty
Grow li[k]e a sea upon me? Have I taken
Danger 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 languishing
Hears his sad Bell, and sees his Mourners? Do I
Bear all this bravely, and must sink at length
Under a womans falshood? Oh that boy,
That cursed boy? None but a villain boy, to ease
your 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 have
To 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 woven
With 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 a _Chaos_,
That love cannot distinguish. These sad Texts
Till my last hour, I am bound to utter of you.
So farewel all my wo, all my delight.

[_Exit_ Phi.

_Are_. Be merciful ye gods and strike me dead;
What way have I deserv'd this? make my breast
Transparent as pure Crystal, that the world
Jealous of me, may see the foulest thought
My heart holds. Where shall a woman turn her eyes,
To find out constancy? Save me, how black,

[_Enter_ Bell.

And guilty (me thinks) that boy looks now?
Oh thou dissembler, that before thou spak'st
Wert in thy cradle false? sent to make lies,
And betray Innocents; thy Lord and thou,
May glory in the ashes of a Maid
Fool'd by her passion; but the conquest is
Nothing so great as wicked. Fly away,
Let my command force thee to that, which shame
Would do without it. If thou understoodst
The loathed Office thou hast undergone,
Why, thou wouldst hide thee under heaps of hills,
Lest men should dig and find thee.

_Bell_. Oh what God
Angry with men, hath sent this strange disease
Into the noblest minds? Madam this grief
You add unto me is no more than drops
To 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 gods
Assist you in your sufferings; hasty time
Reveal the truth to your abused Lord,
And mine: That he may know your worth: whilst I
Go seek out some forgotten place to die.

[_Exit_ Bell.

_Are_. Peace guide thee, th'ast overthrown me once,
Yet if I had another _Troy_ to 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 a_ Lady

_La_. Madam, the King would hunt, and calls for you
With earnestness.

_Are_. I am in tune to hunt!
_Diana_ if 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_.

_Enter_ King, 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 forgotten
Your venial trespass, let not that sit heavy
Upon 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 shot
him between wind and water, and I hope sprung a leak.

_Thra_. He needs no teaching, he strikes sure enough; his
greatest 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 came
from Churching with her Neighbour; why, what a Devil
can a man see in her face, but that she's honest?

_Pha_. Troth no great matter to speak of, a foolish twinkling
with the eye, that spoils her Coat; but he must be a
cunning 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 two_ Woodmen.

_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 Sir
_Tristram_; 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 Lady _Galatea_.

_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_.

_Enter_ Philaster.

_Phi_. Oh, that I had been nourished in these woods
With Milk of Goats, and Acorns, and not known
The right of Crowns, nor the dissembling Trains
Of Womens looks; but dig'd my self a Cave,
Where I, my Fire, my Cattel, and my Bed
Might have been shut together in one shed;
And then had taken me some Mountain Girl,
Beaten with Winds, chast as the hardened Rocks
Whereon she dwells; that might have strewed my Bed
With leaves, and Reeds, and with the Skins of beasts
Our Neighbours; and have born at her big breasts
My large course issue. This had been a life free
from vexation.

[ _Enter_ Bellario.

_Bell_. Oh wicked men!
An innocent man may walk safe among beasts,
Nothing assaults me here. See, my griev'd Lord
Sits as his soul were searching out a way,
To leave his body. Pardon me that must
Break 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?

_Bell_. Oh my Noble Lord,
View my strange fortune, and bestow on me,
According to your bounty (if my service
Can merit nothing) so much as may serve
To keep that little piece I hold of life
From cold and hunger.

_Phi_. Is it thou? be gone:
Go sell those misbeseeming Cloaths thou wear'st,
And feed thy self with them.

_Bell_. Alas! my Lord, I can get nothing for them:
The silly Country people think 'tis Treason
To touch such gay things.

_Phi_. Now by my life this is
Unkindly done, to vex me with thy sight,
Th'art fain again to thy dissembling trade:
How should'st thou think to cozen me again?
Remains there yet a plague untri'd for me?
Even so thou wept'st and spok'st when first
I took thee up; curse on the time. If thy
Commanding tears can work on any other,
Use thy art, I'le not betray it. Which way
Wilt thou take, that I may shun thee;
For thine eyes are poyson to mine; and I
Am loth to grow in rage. This way, or that way?

_Bell_. Any will serve. But I will chuse to have
That path in chase that leads unto my grave.

[_Exeunt_ Phil. _and_ Bell. _severally_.

_Enter_ Dion _and the_ Woodmen.

_Di_. This is the strangest sudden change! You _Woodman_.

_1 Wood_. My Lord _Dion_.

_Di_. Saw you a Lady come this way on a Sable-horse
stubbed with stars of white?

_2 Wood_. Was she not young and tall?

_Di_. Yes; Rode she to the wood, or to the plain?

_2 Wood_. Faith my Lord we saw none.

[_Exeunt_ Wood.

_Enter_ Cleremont.

_Di_. Pox of your questions then. What, is she found?

_Cle_. Nor will be I think.

_Di_. Let him seek his Daughter himself; she cannot stray
about a little necessary natural business, but the
whole Court must be in Arms; when she has done, we
shall have peace.

_Cle_. There's already a thousand fatherless tales amongst
us; some say her Horse run away with her; some a Wolf
pursued her; others, it was a plot to kill her; and that
Armed men were seen in the Wood: but questionless, she
rode away willingly.

_Enter_ King, _and_ Thrasiline.

_King_. Where is she?

_Cle_. Sir, I cannot tell.

_King_. How is that? Answer me so again.

_Cle_. Sir, shall I lie?

_King_. Yes, lie and damn, rather than tell me that;
I say again, where is she? Mutter not;
Sir, speak you where is she?

_Di_. Sir, I do not know.

_King_. Speak that again so boldly, and by Heaven
It is thy last. You fellows answer me,
Where is she? Mark me all, I am your King.
I wish to see my Daughter, shew her me;
I do command you all, as you are subjects,
To shew her me, what am I not your King?
If I, then am I not to be obeyed?

_Di_. Yes, if you command things possible and honest.

_King_. Things possible and honest! Hear me, thou,
Thou Traytor, that darest confine thy King to things
Possible and honest; shew her me,
Or let me perish, if I cover not all _Cicily_ with bloud.

_Di_. Indeed I cannot, unless you tell me where she is.

_King_. You have betray'd me, y'have, let me lose
The Jewel of my life, go; bring her me,
And set her before me; 'tis the King
Will have it so, whose breath can still the winds,
Uncloud the Sun, charm down the swelling Sea,
And stop the Flouds of Heaven; speak, can it not?

_Di_. No.

_King_. No, cannot the breath of Kings do this?

_Di_. No; nor smell sweet it self, if once the Lungs
Be but corrupted.

_King_. Is it so? Take heed.

_Di_. Sir, take you heed; how you dare the powers
That must be just.

_King_. Alas! what are we Kings?
Why do you gods place us above the rest;
To be serv'd, flatter'd, and ador'd till we
Believe we hold within our hands your Thunder,
And when we come to try the power we have,
There's not a leaf shakes at our threatnings.
I have sin'd 'tis true, and here stand to be punish'd;
Yet would not thus be punish'd; let me chuse
My way, and lay it on.

_Di_. He Articles with the gods; would some body would
draw bonds, for the performance of Covenants
betwixt them.

_Enter_ Pha. Galatea, _and_ Megra.

_King_. What, is she found?

_Pha_. No, we have ta'ne her Horse.
He gallopt empty by: there's some Treason;
You _Galatea_ rode with her into the wood; why left
you her?

_Gal_. She did command me.

_King_. Command! you should not.

_Gal_. 'Twould ill become my Fortunes and my Birth
To disobey the Daughter of my King.

_King_. Y'are all cunning to obey us for our hurt,
But I will have her.

_Pha_. If I have her not,
By this hand there shall be no more _Cicily_.

_Di_. What will he carry it to _Spain_ in's pocket?

_Pha_. I will not leave one man alive, but the King,
A Cook and a Taylor.

_Di_. Yet you may do well to spare your Ladies Bed-fellow,
and her you may keep for a Spawner.

_King_. I see the injuries I have done must be reveng'd.

_Di_. Sir, this is not the way to find her out.

_King_. Run all, disperse your selves: the man that finds her,
Or (if she be kill'd) the Traytor; I'le [make] him great.

_Di_. I know some would give five thousand pounds to find her.

_Pha_. Come let us seek.

_King_. Each man a several way, here I my self.

_Di_. Come Gentlemen we here.

_Cle_. Lady you must go search too.

_Meg_. I had rather be search'd my self.

[_Exeunt omnes_.

_Enter_ Arethusa.

_Are_. Where am I now? Feet find me out a way,
Without the counsel of my troubled head,
I'le follow you boldly about these woods,
O're mountains, thorow brambles, pits, and flouds:
Heaven I hope will ease me. I am sick.

_Enter_ Bellario.

_Bell_. Yonder's my Lady; Heaven knows I want nothing;
Because I do not wish to live, yet I
Will try her Charity. Oh hear, you that have plenty,
From that flowing store, drop some on dry ground; see,
The lively red is gone to guard her heart;
I fear she faints. Madam look up, she breaths not;
Open once more those rosie twins, and send
Unto my Lord, your latest farewell; Oh, she stirs:
How is it Madam? Speak comfort.

_Are_. 'Tis not gently done,
To put me in a miserable life,
And hold me there; I pray thee let me go,
I shall do best without thee; I am well.

_Enter_ Philaster.

_Phil_. I am to blame to be so much in rage,
I'le tell her coolely, when and where I heard
This killing truth. I will be temperate
In speaking, and as just in hearing.
Oh monstrous! Tempt me not ye gods, good gods
Tempt not a frail man, what's he, that has a heart
But he must ease it here?

_Bell_. My Lord, help the Princess.

_Are_. I am well, forbear.

_Phi_. Let me love lightning, let me be embrac'd
And kist by Scorpions, or adore the eyes
Of Basilisks, rather than trust to tongues,
And shrink these veins up; stick me here a stone
Lasting to ages in the memory
Of this damn'd act. Hear me you wicked ones,
You have put the hills on fire into this breast,
Not to be quench'd with tears, for which may guilt
Sit on your bosoms; at your meals, and beds,
Despair await you: what, before my face?
Poyson of Aspes between your lips; Diseases
Be your best issues; Nature make a Curse
And throw it on you.

_Are_. Dear _Philaster_, leave
To be enrag'd, and hear me.

_Phi_. I have done;
Forgive my passion, not the calm'd sea,
When _Æolus_ locks up his windy brood,
Is less disturb'd than I, I'le make you know it.
Dear _Arethusa_, do but take this sword,
And search how temperate a heart I have;
Then you and this your boy, may live and raign
In lust without control; Wilt thou _Bellario_?
I prethee kill me; thou art poor, and maist
Nourish ambitious thoughts, when I am dead:
This way were freer; Am I raging now?
If I were mad I should desire to live;
Sirs, feel my pulse; whether have you known
A man in a more equal tune to die?

_Bel_. Alas my Lord, your pulse keeps madmans time,
So does your tongue.

_Phi_. You will not kill me then?

_Are_. Kill you?

_Bell_. Not for a world.

_Phi_. I blame not thee,
_Bellario_; thou hast done but that, which gods
Would have transform'd themselves to do; be gone,
Leave me without reply; this is the last
Of all our meeting. Kill me with this sword;
Be wise, or worse will follow: we are two
Earth cannot bear at once. Resolve to do, or suffer.

_Are_. If my fortunes be so good to let me fall
Upon thy hand, I shall have peace in death.
Yet tell me this, will there be no slanders,
No jealousies in the other world, no ill there?

_Phi_. No.

_Are_. Shew me then the way.

_Phi_. Then guide
My feeble hand, you that have power to do it,
For I must perform a piece of justice. If your youth
Have any way offended Heaven, let prayers
Short and effectual reconcile you to it.

_Are_. I am prepared.

_Enter a_ Country-fellow.

_Coun_. I'le see the King if he be in the Forest, I have hunted
him these two hours; if I should come home and not
see him my Sisters would laugh at me; I can see nothing
but people better horst than my self, that outride
me; I can hear nothing but shouting. These Kings had
need of good brains, this whooping is able to put a mean
man out of his wits. There's a Courtier with his sword
drawn, by this hand upon a woman, I think.

_Phi_. Are you at peace?

_Are_. With Heavens and Earth.

_Phi_. May they divide thy soul and body?

_Coun_. Hold dastard, strike a Woman! th'art a craven I
warrant thee, thou wouldst be loth to play half a dozen
of venies at wasters with a good fellow for a broken head.

_Phi_. Leave us good friend.

_Are_. What ill bred man art thou, to intrude thy self
Upon our private sports, our recreations?

_Coun_. God 'uds, I understand you not, but I know the
Rogue has hurt you.

_Phi_. Pursue thy own affairs: it will be ill
To multiply bloud upon my head; which thou wilt
force me to.

_Coun_. I know not your Rhetorick, but I can lay it on
if you touch the woman.

[_They fight_.

_Phi_. Slave, take what thou deservest.

_Are_. Heavens guard my Lord.

_Coun_. Oh do you breath?

_Phi_. I hear the tread of people: I am hurt.
The gods take part against me, could this Boor
Have held me thus else? I must shift for life,
Though I do loath it. I would find a course,
To lose it, rather by my will than force.

[_Exit_ Phil.

_Coun_. I cannot follow the Rogue. I pray thee wench
come and kiss me now.

_Enter_ Phara. Dion, Cle. Thra. _and_ Woodmen.

_Pha_. What art thou?

_Coun_. Almost kil'd I am for a foolish woman; a knave
has hurt her.

_Pha_. The Princess Gentlemen! Where's the wound Madam?
Is it dangerous?

_Are_. He has not hurt me.

_Coun_. I'faith she lies, has hurt her in the breast, look else.

_Pha_. O sacred spring of innocent blood!

_Di_. 'Tis above wonder! who should dare this?

_Are_. I felt it not.

_Pha_. Speak villain, who has hurt the Princess?

_Coun_. Is it the Princess?

_Di_. I.

_Coun_. Then I have seen something yet.

_Pha_. But who has hurt her?

_Coun_. I told you a Rogue I ne're saw him before, I.

_Pha_. Madam who did it?

_Are_. Some dishonest wretch, Alas I know him not,
And do forgive him.

_Coun_. He's hurt too, he cannot go far, I made my Fathers
old Fox flie about his ears.

_Pha_. How will you have me kill him?

_Are_. Not at all, 'tis some distracted fellow.

_Pha_. By this hand, I'le leave ne'er a piece of him bigger
than a Nut, and bring him all in my Hat.

_Are_. Nay, good Sir;
If you do take him, bring him quick to me,
And I will study for a punishment,
Great as his fault.

_Pha_. I will.

_Are_. But swear.

_Pha_. By all my love I will: Woodmen conduct the Princess
to the King, and bear that wounded fellow to dressing:
Come Gentlemen, we'l follow the chase close.

[_Ex_. Are. Pha. Di. Cle. Thra. _and_ 1 Woodman.

_Coun_. I pray you friend let me see the King.

_2 Wood_.That you shall, and receive thanks.

[_Exeunt_.

_Coun_. If I get clear with this, I'le go see no more gay sights.

_Enter_ Bellario.

_Bell_. 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 Coarse strewed o're with you,
Than quick above you. 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:
When I did fight, me thought I heard her pray
The gods to guard me. She may be abus'd,
And I a loathed villain: if she be,
She will conceal who hurt her; He has wounds,
And cannot follow, neither knows he me.
Who's this; _Bellario_ sleeping? If thou beest
Guilty, there is no justice that thy sleep

[_Cry within_.

Should be so sound, and mine, whom thou hast wrong'd,
So broken: Hark I am pursued: you gods
I'le take this offer'd means of my escape:
They have no mark to know me, but my wounds,
If she be true; if false, let mischief light
On all the world at once. Sword, print my wounds
Upon this sleeping boy: I ha' none I think
Are mortal, nor would I lay greater on thee.

[_Wounds him_.

_Bell_. Oh death I hope is come, blest be that hand,
It meant me well; again, for pities sake.

_Phi_. I have caught my self,

[Phi. _falls_.

The loss of bloud hath stayed my flight. Here, here,
Is he that stroke thee: take thy full revenge,
Use me, as I did mean thee, worse than death:
I'le teach thee to revenge this luckless hand
Wounded the Princess, tell my followers
Thou didst receive these hurts in staying me,
And I will second thee: Get a reward.

_Bell_. Fly, fly my Lord and save your self.

_Phi_. How's this?
Wouldst thou I should be safe?

_Bell_. Else it were vain
For me to live. These little wounds I have,
Ha' not bled much, reach me that noble hand,
I'le help to cover you.

_Phi_. Art thou true to me?

_Bell_. Or let me perish loath'd. Come my good Lord,
Creep in amongst those bushes: who does know
But that the gods may save your (much lov'd) breath?

_Phi_. Then I shall die for grief, if not for this,
That I have wounded thee: what wilt thou do?

_Bell_. Shift for my self well: peace, I hear 'em come.

_Within_. Follow, follow, follow; that way they went.

_Bell_. With my own wounds I'le bloudy my own sword.
I need not counterfeit to fall; Heaven knows,
That I can stand no longer.

_Enter_ Pha. Dion, Cle. _and_ Thra.

_Pha_. To this place we have tract him by his bloud.

_Cle_. Yonder, my Lord, creeps one away.

_Di_. Stay Sir, what are you?

_Bell_. A wretched creature wounded in these Woods
By Beasts; relieve me, if your names be men,
Or I shall perish.

_Di_. This is he my Lord,
Upon my soul that hurt her; 'tis the boy,
That wicked boy that serv'd her.

_Pha_. O thou damn'd in thy creation!
What cause could'st thou shape to hurt the Princess?

_Bell_. Then I am betrayed.

_Di_. Betrayed! no, apprehended.

_Bell_. I confess;
Urge it no more, that big with evil thoughts
I set upon her, and did take my aim
Her death. For charity let fall at once
The punishment you mean, and do not load
This weary flesh with tortures.

_Pha_. I will know who hir'd thee to this deed?

_Bell_. Mine own revenge.

_Pha_. Revenge, for what?

_Bell_. It pleas'd her to receive
Me as her Page, and when my fortunes ebb'd,
That men strid o're them carelesly, she did showr
Her welcome graces on me, and did swell
My fortunes, till they overflow'd their banks,
Threatning the men that crost 'em; when as swift
As storms arise at sea, she turn'd her eyes
To burning Suns upon me, and did dry
The streams she had bestowed, leaving me worse
And more contemn'd than other little brooks,
Because I had been great: In short, I knew
I could not live, and therefore did desire
To die reveng'd.

_Pha_. If tortures can be found,
Long as thy natural life, resolve to feel
The utmost rigour.

[Philaster _creeps out of a bush_.

_Cle_. Help to lead him hence.

_Phi_. Turn back you ravishers of Innocence,
Know ye the price of that you bear away so rudely?

_Pha_. Who's that?

_Di_. '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 vertue. It was I that hurt the Princess.
Place me, some god, upon a _Piramis_,
Higher than hills of earth, and lend a voice
Loud as your Thunder to me, that from thence,
I may discourse to all the under-world,
The worth that dwells in him.

_Pha_. How's this?

_Bell_. My Lord, some man
Weary of life, that would be glad to die.

_Phi_. Leave these untimely courtesies _Bellario_.

_Bell_. Alas he's mad, come will you lead me on?

_Phi_. By all the Oaths that men ought most to keep:
And Gods do punish most, when men do break,
He toucht her not. Take heed _Bellario_,
How thou dost drown the vertues thou hast shown
With perjury. By all that's good 'twas I:
You know she stood betwixt me and my right.

_Pha_. Thy own tongue be thy judge.

_Cle_. It was _Philaster_.

_Di_. Is't not a brave boy?
Well Sirs, I fear we were all deceived.

_Phi_. Have I no friend here?

_Di_. 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 gentle on his neck that there
I may weep flouds, and breath out my spirit:
'Tis not the wealth of _Plutus_, nor the gold
Lockt in the heart of earth, can buy away
This arm-full from me, this had been a ransom
To have redeem'd the great _Augustus Caesar_,
Had he been taken: you hard-hearted men,
More stony than these Mountains, can you see
Such clear pure bloud drop, and not cut your flesh
To stop his life? To bind whose better wounds,
Queens ought to tear their hair, and with their tears,
Bath 'em. Forgive me, thou that art the wealth of
poor _Philaster_.

[_Enter_ King, Arethusa _and a_ Guard.

_King_. Is the villain ta'ne?

_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.

_Are_. Ay 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;
Thou that hast laid a train for thy own life;
Now I do mean to do, I'le leave to talk, bear him
to prison.

_Are_. Sir, they did plot together to take hence
This harmless life; should it pass unreveng'd,
I should to earth go weeping: grant me then
(By all the love a Father bears his Child)
Their custodies, and that I may appoint
Their tortures and their death.

_Di_. Death? soft, our Law will not reach that, for this fault.

_King_. 'Tis granted, take 'em to you, with a Guard.
Come Princely _Pharamond_, this business past,
We may with more security go on to your intended match.

_Cle_. I pray that this action lose not _Philaster_ the hearts
of the people.

_Di_. Fear it not, their overwise heads will think it but a trick.

[_Exeunt Omnes_.

_Actus Quintus. Scena Prima_.

_Enter_ Dion, Cleremont, _and_ Thrasiline.

_Thra_. Has the King sent for him to death?

_Di_. 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?

_Di_. All they were but scratches; but the loss of bloud
made him faint.

_Cle_. We dally Gentlemen.

_Thra_. Away.

_Di_. We'l scuffle hard before he perish.

[_Exeunt_.

_Enter_ Philaster, Arethusa, _and_ Bellario.

_Are_. Nay dear _Philaster_ grieve not, we are well.

_Bell_. Nay good my Lord forbear, we are wondrous well.

_Phi_. Oh _Arethusa_! O _Bellario_! leave to be kind:
I shall be shot from Heaven, as now from
Earth, If you continue so; I am a man,
False to a pair of the most trusty ones
That ever earth bore, can it bear us all?
Forgive and leave me, but the King hath sent
To call me to my death, Oh shew it me,
And then forget me: And for thee my boy,
I shall deliver words will mollifie
The hearts of beasts, to spare thy innocence.

_Bell_. Alas my Lord, my life is not a thing
Worthy your noble thoughts; 'tis not a life,
'Tis but a piece of child-hood thrown away:
Should I out-live, I shall then out-live
Vertue and honour. And when that day comes,
If ever I should close these eyes but once,
May I live spotted for my perjury,
And waste my limbs to nothing.

_Are_. And I (the woful'st maid as ever was,
Forc'd 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 you true
To such a wretch as I; I shall die loath'd.
Injoy your Kingdoms peaceably, whil'st I
For ever sleep forgotten with my faults,
Every just servant, every maid in love
Will have a piece of me if you be true.

_Are_. My dear Lord say not so.

_Bell_. A piece of you?
He was not born of women that can cut it and look on.

_Phi_. Take me in tears betwixt you,
For my heart will break with shame and sorrow.

_Are_. Why 'tis well.

_Bell_. Lament no more.

_Phi_. What would you have done
If you had wrong'd me basely, and had found
My life no price, compar'd to yours? For love Sirs,
Deal with me truly.

_Bell_. 'Twas mistaken, Sir.

_Phi_. Why if it were?

_Bell_. Then Sir we would have ask'd you pardon.

_Phi_. And have hope to enjoy it?

_Are_. Injoy it? I.

_Phi_. Would you indeed? be plain.