Chapter XC: Act II: Scene I.3196

_Enter_ PHILASTER _and_ BELLARIO.

_Phi._ And thou shalt find her honourable, boy;
Full of regard unto thy tender youth,
For thine own modesty; and, for my sake,
Apter to give than thou wilt be to ask,
Ay, or deserve.

_Bel._ Sir, you did take me up 5
When I was nothing; and only yet am something
By being yours. You trusted me unknown;
And that which you were apt to conster[3197]
A simple innocence in me, perhaps
Might have been craft, the cunning of a boy 10
Hard’ned in lies and theft: yet ventur’d you
To part my miseries and me: for which,
I never can expect to serve a lady
That bears more honour in her breast than you.

_Phi._ But, boy, it will prefer[3198] thee. Thou art young, 15
And bear’st a childish overflowing love
To them that clap thy cheeks and speak thee fair yet;
But when thy judgment comes to rule those passions,
Thou wilt remember best those careful friends
That plac’d thee in the noblest way of life. 20
She is a princess I prefer thee to.

_Bel._ In that small time that I have seen the world,
I never knew a man hasty to part
With a servant he thought trusty. I remember,
My father would prefer the boys he kept 25
To greater men than he; but did it not
Till they were grown too saucy for himself.

_Phi._ Why, gentle boy, I find no fault at all
In thy behaviour.

_Bel._ Sir, if I have made
A fault in ignorance, instruct my youth: 30
I shall be willing, if not apt, to learn;
Age and experience will adorn my mind
With larger knowledge; and if I have done
A wilful fault, think me not past all hope
For once. What master holds so strict a hand 35
Over his boy, that he will part with him
Without one warning? Let me be corrected
To break my stubbornness, if it be so,
Rather than turn me off; and I shall mend. 39

_Phi._ Thy love doth plead so prettily to stay,
That, trust me, I could weep to part with thee.
Alas, I do not turn thee off! Thou knowest
It is my business that doth call thee hence;
And when thou art with her, thou dwell’st with me,
Think so, and ’t is so; and when time is full, 45
That thou hast well discharg’d this heavy trust,
Laid on so weak a one, I will again
With joy receive thee; as I live, I will!
Nay, weep not, gentle boy. ’T is more than time
Thou didst attend the princess.

_Bel._ I am gone. 50
But since I am to part with you, my lord,
And none knows whether I shall live to do
More service for you, take this little prayer:
Heaven bless your loves, your fights, all your designs! 54
May sick men, if they have your wish, be well;
And Heaven hate those you curse, though I be one! _Exit._

_Phi._ The love of boys unto their lords is strange;
I have read wonders of it: yet this boy
For my sake (if a man may judge by looks
And speech) would out-do story. I may see 60
A day to pay him for his loyalty. _Exit._

[SCENE II.][3199]

_Enter_ PHARAMOND.

_Pha._ Why should these ladies stay so long? They must come this way.
I know the queen employs ’em not; for the reverend mother[3200] sent
me word they would all be for the garden. If they should all prove
honest[3201] now, I were (5) in a fair taking; I was never so long
without sport in my life, and, in my conscience, ’t is not my fault.
Oh, for our country ladies!
_Enter_ GALATEA.
Here ’s one bolted; I ’ll hound at her.—Madam!

_Gal._ Your grace!

_Pha._ Shall I not be a trouble?

_Gal._ Not to me, sir. 11

_Pha._ Nay, nay, you are too quick. By this sweet hand——

_Gal._ You’ll be forsworn, sir; ’t is but an old glove.
If you will talk at distance, I am for you:
But, good prince, be not bawdy, nor do not brag; 15
These two I bar;
And then, I think, I shall have sense enough
To answer all the weighty apophthegms
Your royal blood shall manage.

_Pha._ Dear lady, can you love? 20

_Gal._ Dear prince! how dear? I ne’er cost you a coach yet, nor put
you to the dear repentance of a banquet. Here’s no scarlet, sir, to
blush the sin out it was given for. This wire mine own hair covers;
and this face has (25) been so far from being dear to any, that it
ne’er cost penny painting; and, for the rest of my poor wardrobe,
such as you see, it leaves no hand[3202] behind it, to make the
jealous mercer’s wife curse our good doings. 30

_Pha._ You mistake me, lady.

_Gal._ Lord, I do so; would you or I could help it!

[_Pha._ You’re very dangerous bitter, like a potion.

_Gal._ No, sir, I do not mean to purge you, though
I mean to purge a little time on you.][3203] 35

_Pha._ Do ladies of this country use to give
No more respect to men of my full being?

_Gal._ Full being! I understand you not, unless your grace means
growing to fatness; and then your only remedy (upon my knowledge, 40
prince) is, in a morning, a cup of neat white wine brewed with
carduus,[3204] then fast till supper; about eight you may eat; use
exercise, and keep a sparrow-hawk; you can shoot in a tiller:[3205]
but, of all, your grace must fly phlebotomy,[3206] (45) fresh pork,
conger,[3207] and clarified whey; they are all duller of the vital
spirits.

_Pha._ Lady, you talk of nothing all this while.

_Gal._ ’T is very true, sir; I talk of you. 49

_Pha._ [_Aside._] This is a crafty wench; I like her wit well; ’t
will be rare to stir up a leaden appetite. She’s a Danaë, and must be
courted in a shower of gold.—Madam, look here; all these, and more
than—— 54

_Gal._ What have you there, my lord? Gold! now, as I live, ’t is fair
gold! You would have silver for it, to play with the pages. You could
not have taken me in a worse time; but, if you have present use, my
lord, I’ll send my man with silver and keep your gold for you. 60

_Pha._ Lady, lady!

_Gal._ She’s coming, sir, behind, will take white money.—
[_Aside._] Yet for all this I’ll match ye. _Exit behind the hangings._

_Pha._ If there be but two such more in this kingdom, and near the
court, we may even (65) hang up our harps. Ten such camphire[3208]
constitutions as this would call the golden age again in question,
and teach the old way for every ill-fac’d husband to get his own
children; and what a mischief that would breed, let all consider! 71
_Enter_ MEGRA.
Here’s another: if she be of the same last, the devil shall pluck her
on.—Many fair mornings, lady!

_Meg._ As many mornings bring as many days,
Fair, sweet and hopeful to your grace! 76

_Pha._ [_Aside._] She gives good words yet; sure this wench is
free.—[3209]
If your more serious business do not call you,
Let me hold quarter with you; we will talk
An hour out quickly.

_Meg._ What would your grace talk of? 80

_Pha._ Of some such pretty subject as yourself:
I’ll go no further than your eye, or lip;
There ’s theme enough for one man for an age.

_Meg._ Sir, they stand right, and my lips are yet even,
Smooth, young enough, ripe enough, and red enough, 85
Or my glass wrongs me.

_Pha._ Oh, they are two twinn’d cherries dy’d in blushes
Which those fair suns above with their bright beams
Reflect upon and ripen. Sweetest beauty,
Bow down those branches, that the longing taste 90
Of the faint looker-on may meet those blessings.
And taste and live. _They kiss._

_Meg._ [_Aside._] Oh, delicate sweet prince!
She that hath snow enough about her heart
To take the wanton spring of ten such lines off,
May be a nun without probation.—Sir, 95
You have in such neat poetry gathered a kiss,
That if I had but five lines of that number,
Such pretty begging blanks,[3210] I should commend
Your forehead or your cheeks, and kiss you too.

_Pha._ Do it in prose; you cannot miss it, madam. 100

_Meg._ I shall, I shall.

_Pha._ By my life, but you shall not;
I’ll prompt you first. [_Kisses her._] Can you do it now?

_Meg._ Methinks ’t is easy, now you ha’ done ’t before me;
But yet I should stick at it. [_Kisses him._]

_Pha._ Stick till to-morrow;
I’ll ne’er part you, sweetest. But we lose time:
Can you love me? 106

_Meg._ Love you, my lord! How would you have me love you?

_Pha._ I’ll teach you in a short sentence, ’cause I will not load
your memory; this is all: love me, and lie with me. 110

_Meg._ Was it “lie with you” that you said? ’T is impossible.

_Pha._ Not to a willing mind, that will endeavour. If I do not teach
you to do it as easily in one night as you’ll go to bed, I’ll lose my
royal blood for ’t. 116

_Meg._ Why, prince, you have a lady of your own
That yet wants teaching.

_Pha._ I’ll sooner teach a mare the old measures[3211] than teach her
anything belonging to (120) the function. She’s afraid to lie with
herself if she have but any masculine imaginations about her. I know,
when we are married, I must ravish her.

_Meg._ By mine honour, that’s a foul fault, indeed; 125
But time and your good help will wear it out, sir.

_Pha._ And for any other I see, excepting your dear self, dearest
lady, I had rather be Sir Tim the schoolmaster, and leap a
dairy-maid, madam. 130

_Meg._ Has your grace seen the court-star, Galatea?

_Pha._ Out upon her! She’s as cold of her favour as an apoplex; she
sail’d by but now.

_Meg._ And how do you hold her wit, sir? 135

_Pha._ I hold her wit? The strength of all the guard cannot hold it,
if they were tied to it; she would blow ’em out of the kingdom. They
talk of Jupiter; he’s but a squib-cracker to her: look well about
you, and you may find a tongue-bolt. (140) But speak, sweet lady,
shall I be freely welcome.

_Meg._ Whither?

_Pha._ To your bed. If you mistrust my faith, you do me the unnoblest
wrong. 145

_Meg._ I dare not, prince, I dare not.

_Pha._ Make your own conditions, my purse shall seal ’em, and what
you dare imagine you can want, I’ll furnish you withal. Give two
hours to your thoughts every morning about it. Come I know you are
bashful; 151
Speak in my ear, will you be mine? Keep this,
And with it, me: soon I will visit you.

_Meg._ My lord, my chamber’s most unsafe; but when ’tis night, 154
I’ll find some means to slip into your lodging;
Till when——

_Pha._ Till when, this and my heart go with thee!
_Exeunt several ways._

_Re-enter_ GALATEA _from behind the hangings._

_Gal._ Oh, thou pernicious petticoat prince! are these your virtues?
Well, if I do not lay a train to blow your sport up, I am no woman:
and, Lady Towsabel, I’ll fit you for ’t. _Exit._ 160

[SCENE III.][3212]

_Enter_ ARETHUSA _and a_ Lady.

_Are._ Where’s the boy?

_Lady._ Within, madam.

_Are._ Gave you him gold to buy him clothes?

_Lady._ I did.

_Are._ And has he done ’t? 5

_Lady._ Yes, madam.

_Are._ ’Tis a pretty sad-talking boy, is it not?
Asked you his name?

_Lady._ No, madam. 9

_Enter_ GALATEA.

_Are._ Oh, you are welcome. What good news?

_Gal._ As good as any one can tell your grace,
That says she has done that you would have wish’d.

_Are._ Hast thou discovered?

_Gal._ I have strain’d a point of modesty for you.

_Are._ I prithee, how? 15

_Gal._ In list’ning after bawdry. I see, let a lady live never so
modestly, she shall be sure to find a lawful time to hearken after
bawdry. Your prince, brave Pharamond, was so hot on ’t! 20

_Are._ With whom?

_Gal._ Why, with the lady I suspected. I can tell the time and place.

_Are._ Oh, when, and where?

_Gal._ To-night, his lodging. 25

_Are._ Run thyself into the presence; mingle there again
With other ladies; leave the rest to me. [_Exit_ Galatea.]
If destiny (to whom we dare not say,
“Why didst thou this?”) have not decreed it so,
In lasting leaves (whose smallest characters 30
Were never alter’d yet), this match shall break.—
Where’s the boy?

_Lady._ Here, madam.

_Enter_ BELLARIO.

_Are._ Sir, you are sad to change your service; is ’t not so?

_Bel._ Madam, I have not chang’d; I wait on you, 35
To do him service.

_Are._ Thou disclaim’st in me.
Tell me thy name.

_Bel._ Bellario.

_Are._ Thou canst sing and play?

_Bel._ If grief will give me leave, madam, I can. 40

_Are._ Alas, what kind of grief can thy years know?
Hadst thou a curst master when thou went’st to school?
Thou art not capable of other grief:
Thy brows and cheeks are smooth as waters be
When no breath troubles them. Believe me, boy, 45
Care seeks out wrinkled brows and hollow eyes,
And builds himself caves, to abide in them
Come, sir, tell me truly, doth your lord love me?

_Bel._ Love, madam! I know not what it is.

_Are._ Canst thou know grief, and never yet knew’st love? 50
Thou art deceiv’d, boy. Does he speak of me
As if he wish’d me well?

_Bel._ If it be love
To forget all respect of his own friends
With thinking of your face; if it be love
To sit cross-arm’d and sigh away the day, 55
Mingled with starts, crying your name as loud
And hastily as men i’ the streets do fire;
If it be love to weep himself away
When he but hears of any lady dead
Or kill’d, because it might have been your chance; 60
If, when he goes to rest (which will not be),
’Twixt every prayer he says, to name you once,
As others drop a bead, be to be in love.
Then, madam, I dare swear he loves you.

_Are._ Oh you’re a cunning boy, and taught to lie 65
For your lord’s credit! But thou know’st a lie
That bears this sound is welcomer to me
Than any truth that says he loves me not.
Lead the way, boy.—[_To_ Lady.] Do you attend me too.— 69
’T is thy lord’s business hastes me thus. Away! _Exeunt._

[SCENE IV.][3213]

_Enter_ DION, CLEREMONT, THRASILINE, MEGRA, _and_ GALATEA.

_Dion._ Come, ladies, shall we talk a round? As men
Do walk a mile, women should talk an hour
After supper: ’tis their exercise.

_Gal._ ’T is late.

_Meg._ ’T is all 5
My eyes will do to lead me to my bed.

_Gal._ I fear, they are so heavy, you’ll scarce find
The way to your own lodging with ’em to-night.

_Enter_ PHARAMOND.

_Thra._ The prince!

_Pha._ Not a-bed, ladies? You’re good sitters-up. 10
What think you of a pleasant dream, to last
Till morning?

_Meg._ I should choose, my lord, a pleasing wake before it.

_Enter_ ARETHUSA _and_ BELLARIO.

_Are._ ’T is well, my lord; you’re courting of these ladies.—
Is ’t not late, gentlemen? 15

_Cle._ Yes, madam.

_Are._ Wait you there. _Exit._

_Meg._ [_Aside._] She’s jealous, as I live.—Look you, my lord.
The princess has a Hylas, an Adonis.

_Pha._ His form is angel-like. 20

_Meg._ Why, this is he that must, when you are wed,
Sit by your pillow, like young Apollo, with
His hand and voice binding your thoughts in sleep,
The princess does provide him for you and for herself.

_Pha._ I find no music in these boys.

_Meg._ Nor I: 25
They can do little, and that small they do,
They have not wit to hide.

_Dion._ Serves he the princess?

_Thra._ Yes.

_Dion._ ’T is a sweet boy: how brave[3214] she keeps him!

_Pha._ Ladies all, good rest; I mean to kill a buck
To-morrow morning ere you’ve done your dreams. 30

_Meg._ All happiness attend your grace!
[_Exit_ PHARAMOND.] Gentlemen, good rest.–
Come, shall we go to bed?

_Gal._ Yes.—All good night.

_Dion._ May your dreams be true to you!—_Exeunt_ GALATEA _and_ MEGRA.
What shall we do, gallants? ’t is late. The King
Is up still: see, he comes; a guard along 35
With him.

_Enter_ KING, ARETHUSA, _and_ Guard.

_King._ Look your intelligence be true.

_Are._ Upon my life, it is; and I do hope
Your highness will not tie me to a man
That in the heat of wooing throws me off,
And takes another.

_Dion._ What should this mean? 40

_King._ If it be true,
That lady had been better have embrac’d
Cureless diseases. Get you to your rest:
You shall be righted.
_Exeunt_ ARETHUSA _and_ BELLARIO.
—Gentlemen, draw near;
We shall employ you. Is young Pharamond 45
Come to his lodging?

_Dion._ I saw him enter there.

_King._ Haste, some of you, and cunningly discover
If Megra be in her lodging. [_Exit_ DION.]

_Cle._ Sir,
She parted hence but now, with other ladies. 50

_King._ If she be there, we shall not need to make
A vain discovery of our suspicion.
[_Aside._] You gods. I see that who unrighteously
Holds wealth or state from others shall be curst
In that which meaner men are blest withal: 55
Ages to come shall know no male of him
Left to inherit, and his name shall be
Blotted from earth; if he have any child,
It shall be crossly match’d; the gods themselves
Shall sow wild strife betwixt her lord and her.
Yet, if it be your wills, forgive the sin 61
I have committed; let it not fall
Upon this understanding child of mine!
She has not broke your laws. But how can I
Look to be heard of gods that must be just, 65
Praying upon the ground I hold by wrong?

_Re-enter_ DION.

_Dion._ Sir, I have asked, and her women swear she is within; but
they, I think, are bawds. I told ’em, I must speak with her; they
laught, and said, their lady lay speechless. I said, (70) my business
was important; they said, their lady was about it. I grew hot, and
cried, my business was a matter that concern’d life and death; they
answered, so was sleeping, at which their lady was. I urg’d again,
she had scarce (75) time to be so since last I saw her: they smil’d
again, and seem’d to instruct me that sleeping was nothing but lying
down and winking.[3215] Answers more direct I could not get: in
short, sir, I think she is not there. 80

_King._ ’Tis then no time to dally.—You o’ the guard,
Wait at the back door of the prince’s lodging,
And see that none pass thence, upon your lives. [_Exeunt_ Guards.]
Knock, gentlemen; knock loud; louder yet.
[DION, CLER., &c. _knock at the door of_ PHARAMOND’S _Lodging_.]
What, has their pleasure taken off their hearing?— 85
I’ll break your meditations.—Knock again.—
Not yet? I do not think he sleeps, having this
Larum by him.—Once more.—Pharamond! prince!
PHARAMOND [_appears_] _above_.

_Pha._ What saucy groom knocks at this dead of night?
Where be our waiters? By my vexed soul, 90
He meets his death that meets me, for his boldness.

_King._ Prince, prince, you wrong your thoughts; we are your friends:
Come down.

_Pha._ The King!

_King._ The same, sir. Come down, sir:
We have cause of present counsel with you.

_Pha._ If your grace please 95
To use me, I’ll attend you to your chamber.

_Enter_ PHARAMOND _below_.

_King._ No, ’tis too late, prince; I’ll make bold with yours.

_Pha._ I have some private reasons to myself
Makes me unmannerly, and say you cannot.— _They press to come in._
Nay, press not forward, gentlemen; he must 100
Come through my life that comes here.

_King._ Sir, be resolv’d[3216] I must and will come.—Enter.

_Pha._ I will not be dishonour’d.
He that enters, enters upon his death.
Sir, ’t is a sign you make no stranger of me, 105
To bring these renegadoes to my chamber
At these unseasoned hours.

_King._ Why do you
Chafe yourself so? You are not wrong’d nor shall be;
Only I’ll search your lodging, for some cause
To ourself known.—Enter, I say.

_Pha._ I say, no. 110

_Enter_ MEGRA _above_.

_Meg._ Let ’em enter, prince, let ’em enter;
I am up and ready:[3217] I know their business;
’Tis the poor breaking of a lady’s honour
They hunt so hotly after; let ’em enjoy it.— 114
You have your business, gentlemen; I lay here.
Oh, my lord the King, this is not noble in you
To make public the weakness of a woman!

_King._ Come down.

_Meg._ I dare, my lord. Your hootings and your clamours, 119
Your private whispers and your broad fleerings,
Can no more vex my soul than this base carriage.[3218]
But I have vengeance yet in store for some
Shall, in the most contempt you can have of me,
Be joy and nourishment.

_King._ Will you come down?

_Meg._ Yes, to laugh at your worst; but I shall wring you, 125
If my skill fail me not. [_Exit above._]

_King._ Sir, I must dearly chide you for this looseness;
You have wrong’d a worthy lady; but, no more.—
Conduct him to my lodging and to bed.
[_Exeunt_ PHARAMOND _and_ Attendants.]

_Cle._ Get him another wench, and you bring
him to bed indeed. 131

_Dion._ ’Tis strange a man cannot ride a stage
Or two, to breathe himself, without a warrant.
If his gear hold, that lodgings be search’d thus,
Pray God we may lie with our own wives in safety, 135
That they be not by some trick of state mistaken!

_Enter_ [Attendants] _with_ MEGRA [_below_].

_King._ Now, lady of honour, where ’s your honour now?
No man can fit your palate but the prince.
Thou most ill-shrouded rottenness, thou piece
Made by a painter and a ’pothecary, 140
Thou troubled sea of lust, thou wilderness
Inhabited by wild thoughts, thou swoln cloud
Of infection, thou ripe mine of all diseases,
Thou all-sin, all-hell, and last, all-devils, tell me,
Had you none to pull on with your courtesies 145
But he that must be mine, and wrong my daughter?
By all the gods, all these, and all the pages,
And all the court, shall hoot thee through the court,
Fling rotten oranges, make ribald rhymes,
And sear thy name with candles upon walls! 150
Do you laugh, Lady Venus?

_Meg._ Faith, sir, you must pardon me;
I cannot choose but laugh to see you merry.
If you do this, O King! nay, if you dare do it,
By all those gods you swore by, and as many 155
More of my own, I will have fellows, and such
Fellows in it, as shall make noble mirth!
The princess, your dear daughter, shall stand by me
On walls, and sung in ballads, any thing. 159
Urge me no more; I know her and her haunts,
Her lays, leaps, and outlays, and will discover all;
Nay, will dishonour her. I know the boy
She keeps; a handsome boy, about eighteen;
Know what she does with him, where, and when. 164
Come, sir, you put me to a woman’s madness,
The glory of a fury; and if I do not
Do ’t to the height——

_King._ What boy is this she raves at?

_Meg._ Alas! good-minded prince, you know not these things!
I am loth to reveal ’em. Keep this fault,
As you would keep your health from the hot air 170
Of the corrupted people, or, by Heaven,
I will not fall alone. What I have known
Shall be as public as a print; all tongues
Shall speak it as they do the language they
Are born in, as free and commonly; I ’ll set it,
Like a prodigious[3219] star, for all to gaze at, 176
And so high and glowing, that other kingdoms far and foreign
Shall read it there, nay, travel with it, till they find
No tongue to make it more, nor no more people;
And then behold the fall of your fair princess!

_King._ Has she a boy? 181

_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 will study to forget you.

_Meg._ Do you study to forget me, and I’ll study 185
To forget you. _Exeunt_ KING, MEGRA, _and_ Guard.

_Cle._ Why, here ’s a male spirit fit for Hercules. If ever there be
Nine Worthies of women, this wench shall ride astride and be their
captain. 190

_Dion._ Sure, she has a garrison of devils in her tongue, she
uttered 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 (195) 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. 200

_Thra._ Nay, we’ll go wander with you. _Exeunt._