Chapter XCI: Act III: Scene I.3220

_Enter_ DION, CLEREMONT, _and_ THRASILINE.

_Cle._ Nay, doubtless, ’t is true.

_Dion._ Ay; and ’t is 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, 5
For us that should he 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 sceptre ready to be cast 10
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, 15
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, 20
Against their nature, are all bent for him,
And like a field of standing corn, that ’s moved
With a stiff gale, their heads bow all one way.

_Dion._ The only cause that draws Philaster back
From this attempt is the fair princess’ love, 25
Which he admires, and we can now confute.

_Thra._ Perhaps he ’ll not believe it.

_Dion._ Why, gentlemen, ’t is without question so.

_Cle._ Ay, ’t is past speech she lives dishonestly.
But how shall we, if he be curious,[3221] work 30
Upon his faith?

_Thra._ We all are satisfied within ourselves.

_Dion._ Since it is true, and tends to his own good,
I’ll make this new report to be my knowledge;
I’ll say I know it; nay, I ’ll swear I saw it. 35

_Cle._ It will be best.

_Thra._ ’T will move him.

_Enter_ PHILASTER.

_Dion._ 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 40
On men disgrac’d for virtue, a good day
Attend you all! What service may I do
Worthy your acceptation?

_Dion._ My good lord,
We come to urge that virtue, which we know
Lives in your breast, forth. Rise, and make a head;[3222] 45
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 virtue, but will second your attempts.

_Phi._ How honourable is this love in you 50
To me that have deserv’d none! Know, my friends,
(You, that were born to shame your poor Philaster
With too much courtesy.) I could afford
To melt myself in thanks: but my designs
Are not yet ripe. Suffice it, that ere long 55
I shall employ your loves; but yet the time
Is short of what I would.

_Dion._ 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, 60
You know the people have long hated him;
But now the princess, whom they lov’d——

_Phi._ Why, what of her?

_Dion._ Is loath’d as much as he.

_Phi._ By what strange means?

_Dion._ She ’s known a whore.

_Phi._ Thou liest.

_Dion._ My lord——- 65

_Phi._ Thou liest,
_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, 70
’T will 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 falsehood whilst it springs!
Set hills on hills betwixt me and the man 75
That utters this, and I will scale them all,
And from the utmost top fall on his neck,
Like thunder from a cloud.

_Dion._ This is most strange:
Sure, he does love her.

_Phi._ I do love fair truth.
She is my mistress, and who injures her 80
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 show you
Why he utter’d this.

_Phi._ I ask your pardon, sir; 85
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.

_Dion._ But this, my lord, is truth.

_Phi._ Oh, say not so! 90
Good sir, forbear to say so: ’t is then truth,
That womankind is false: urge it no more;
It is impossible. Why should you think
The princess light?

_Dion._ Why, she was taken at it. 94

_Phi._ ’T is false! by Heaven, ’t is false! It cannot be!
Can it? Speak, gentlemen; for God’s love, speak!
Is ’t possible? Can women all be damn’d?

_Dion._ Why, no, my lord.

_Phi._ Why, then, it cannot be.

_Dion._ And she was taken with her boy.

_Phi._ What boy? 99

_Dion._ A page, a boy that serves her.

_Phi._ Oh, good gods!
A little boy?

_Dion._ Ay; know you him my lord?

_Phi._ [_Aside._] Hell and sin know him!—Sir, you are deceiv’d:
I’ll 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 105
Should meet her thoughts and know the sin he acts,
Which is the great delight of wickedness.
You are abus’d,[3223] and so is she, and I.

_Dion._ How you, my lord?

_Phi._ Why, all the world ’s abus’d 109
In an unjust report.

_Dion._ Oh, noble sir, your virtues
Cannot look into the subtle thoughts of woman!
In short, my lord, I took them; I myself.

_Phi._ Now, all the devils, thou didst! Fly from my rage!
Would thou hadst ta’en devils engend’ring plagues,
When thou did’st take them! Hide thee from mine eyes! 115
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 120
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 thorough?

_Dion._ Why, my lord, are you
So mov’d at this?

_Phi._ When any fall from virtue, 125
I am distract; I have an interest in ’t.

_Dion._ But, good my lord, recall yourself, and think
What’s best to be done.

_Phi._ I thank you; I will do it.
Please you to leave me; I’ll consider of it.
To-morrow I will find your lodging forth, 130
And give you answer.

_Dion._ All the gods direct you
The readiest way!

_Thra._ He was extreme impatient.

_Cle._ It was his virtue and his noble mind.
_Exeunt_ DION, CLEREMONT, _and_ THRASILINE.

_Phi._ I had forgot to ask him where he took them;
I’ll follow him. Oh that I had a sea 135
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 ’t is done;
And he that tells me this is honourable, 140
As far from lies as she is far from truth.
Oh, that, like beasts, we could not grieve ourselves
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 145
Their spleens away; and they will fall again
Unto to their pastures, growing fresh and fat,
And taste the waters of the springs as sweet
As ’t was before, finding no start in sleep; 149
But miserable man——
_Enter_ BELLARIO.
See, see, you gods,
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 155
Think he is guilty.

_Bel._ Health to you, my lord!
The princess doth commend her love, her life,
And this, unto you. _Gives a letter._

_Phi._ Oh, Bellario,
Now I perceive she loves me: she does show it
In loving thee, my boy, she has made thee brave. 160

_Bel._ My lord, she has attir’d 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.—Oh, let all women, 164
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? 170
For I shall guess her love to me by that.

_Bel._ 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, 175
As I ’d 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?

_Bel._ Why, she does tell me she will trust my youth 180
With all her loving secrets, and does call me
Her pretty servant; bids me weep no more
For leaving you; she ’ll see my services
Regarded: and such words of that soft strain
That I am nearer weeping when she ends 185
Than ere she spake.

_Phi._ This is much better still.

_Bel._ Are you not ill, my lord?

_Phi._ Ill? No, Bellario.

_Bel._ Methinks your words
Fall not from off your tongue so evenly.
Nor is there in your looks that quietness 190
That I was wont to see.

_Phi._ Thou art deceiv’d, boy:
And she strokes thy head?

_Bel._ Yes.

_Phi._ And she does clap thy cheeks?

_Bel._ She does, my lord.

_Phi._ And she does kiss thee, boy? ha!

_Bel._ How, my lord? 194

_Phi._ She kisses thee?

_Bel._ Never, my lord, by heaven.

_Phi._ That ’s strange, I know she does.

_Bel._ No, by my life.

_Phi._ Why then she does not love me. Come, she does.
I bade 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 200
Naked as to her bed; I took her oath
Thou shouldst enjoy her. Tell me, gentle boy,
Is she not parallelless? Is not her breath
Sweet as Arabian winds when fruits are ripe?
Are not her breasts two liquid ivory balls? 205
Is she not all a lasting mine of joy?

_Bel._ Ay, now I see why my disturbed thoughts
Were so perplex’d. When first I went to her,
My heart held augury. You are abus’d;
Some villain has abus’d you; I do see 210
Whereto you tend. Fall rocks upon his head
That put this to you! ’T is some subtle train
To bring that noble frame of yours to nought.

_Phi._ Thou think’st I will be angry with thee. Come, 214
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 discovered? Is she fallen to lust,
As I would wish her? Speak some comfort to me.

_Bel._ My lord, you did mistake the boy you sent. 220
Had she the lust of sparrows or of goats,
Had she a sin that way, bid 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, 225
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 230
As I do now thy face.

_Bel._ Why, so you do.
She is (for aught 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, 235
Should draw it from me.

_Phi._ Then it is no time
To dally with thee; I will take thy life,
For I do hate thee. I could curse thee now.

_Bel._ If you do hate, you could not curse me worse;
The gods have not a punishment in store 240
Greater for me than is your hate.

_Phi._ Fie, fie,
So young and so dissembling! Tell me when
And where thou didst enjoy her, or let plagues
Fall on me, if I destroy thee not! _Draws his sword._

_Bel._ By heaven, I never did; and when I lie 245
To save my life, may I live long and loath’d!
Hew me asunder, and, whilst I can think,
I’ll love those pieces you have cut away
Better than those that grow, and kiss those limbs 249
Because you made ’em so.

_Phi._ Fear’st thou not death?
Can boys contemn that?

_Bel._ 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 ’t is to die.

_Bel._ Yes, I do know, my lord: 255
’T is less than to be born; a lasting sleep;
A quiet resting from all jealousy,
A thing we all pursue. I know, besides,
It is but giving over a game 259
That must be lost.

_Phi._ But there are pains, false boy,
For perjur’d souls. Think but on those, and then
Thy heart will melt, and thou wilt utter all.

_Bel._ 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, 265
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: 270
Thy protestations are so deep, and thou
Dost look so truly when thou utter’st 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 275
Thy honest looks, and take no revenge upon
Thy tender youth. A love from me to thee
Is firm, whate’er 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 281
That will distract me, that will make me mad,
If I behold thee. If thou tender’st me,
Let me not see thee.

_Bel._ I will fly as far
As there is morning, ere I give distaste 285
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. Farewell for evermore! 289
If you shall hear that sorrow struck me dead,
And after find me loyal, let there be
A tear shed from you in my memory,
And I shall rest in peace. _Exit._

_Phi._ Blessing be with thee,
Whatever thou deserv’st! Oh, where shall I
Go bathe this body? Nature too unkind; 295
That made no medicine for a troubled mind! _Exit._

[SCENE II.][3224]

_Enter_ ARETHUSA.

_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 rememb’red him when his dear name
Was last spoke, and how when I sigh’d, wept, sung, 5
And ten thousand such,—I should be angry at his stay.

_Enter_ KING.

_King._ What, at 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. 10

_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. 15

_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, I say.
H’as done you that good service shames me to speak of. 20

_Are._ Good sir, let me understand you.

_King._ If you fear me,
Show 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, 25
Or I shall do the same to you. You’re one
Shame with me, and so near unto myself,
That, by my life, I dare not tell myself
What you, myself, have done.

_Are._ What have I done, my lord? 30

_King._ ’T is a new language, that all love to learn:
The common people speak it well already;
They need no grammar. Understand me well;
There be foul whispers stirring. Cast him off,
And suddenly. Do it! Farewell. _Exit._ 35

_Are._ Where may a maiden live securely free,
Keeping her honour fair? Not with the living.
They feed upon opinions, errors, dreams,
And make ’em truths; they draw a nourishment
Out of defamings, grow upon disgraces, 40
And, when they see a virtue fortified
Strongly above the batt’ry of their tongues,
Oh, how they cast[3225] to sink it! and, defeated,
(Soul-sick with poison) strike the monuments 44
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,[3226] I have a war within me!

_Phi._ He must be more than man that makes these crystals
Run into rivers. Sweetest fair, the cause? 50
And, as I am your slave, tied to your goodness,
Your creature, made again from what I was
And newly-spirited, I’ll right your honour.

_Are._ Oh, my best love, that boy?

_Phi._ What boy?

_Are._ The pretty boy you gave me——

_Phi._ What of him? 55

_Are._ Must be no more mine.

_Phi._ Why?

_Are._ They are jealous of him.

_Phi._ Jealous! Who?

_Are._ The King.

_Phi._ [_Aside._] Oh, my misfortune!
Then ’tis no idle jealousy.—Let him go.

_Are._ Oh, cruel!
Are you hard-hearted too? Who shall now tell you 60
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 now sing your crying elegies, 65
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-lids, making me dream, and cry,
“Oh, my dear, dear Philaster!”

_Phi._ [_Aside._] Oh, my heart! 70
Would he had broken thee, that made me know
This lady was not loyal!—Mistress,
Forget the boy; I’ll get thee a far better.

_Are._ Oh, never, never such a boy again
As my Bellario!

_Phi._ ’Tis but your fond affection. 75

_Are._ With thee, my boy, farewell for ever
All secrecy in servants! Farewell, faith,
And all desire to do well for itself!
Let all that shall succeed thee for thy wrongs
Sell and betray chaste love! 80

_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._ Oh, thou forgetful woman!

_Are._ How, my lord?

_Phi._ False Arethusa! 85
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, 90
Naked, alone, the shock of many fortunes?
Have I seen mischiefs numberless and mighty
Grow like a sea upon me? Have I taken
Danger as stern as death into my bosom,
And laught upon it, made it but a mirth, 95
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 woman’s falsehood? Oh, that boy, 100
That cursed boy! None but a villain boy
To ease your lust?

_Are._ Nay, then, I am betrayed:
I feel the plot cast for my overthrow.
Oh, I am wretched!

_Phi._ Now you may take that little right I have 105
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[3227] bursting with her poisons, must I seek,
And live to curse you; 110
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 poison;[3228] how your thoughts are woven 115
With thousand changes in one subtle web,
And worn so by you; how that foolish man,
That reads the story of a woman’s face
And dies believing it, is lost for ever;
How all the good you have is but a shadow, 120
I’ the 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 mere confusion, and so dead a chaos, 125
That love cannot distinguish. These sad texts,
Till my last hour, I am bound to utter of you.
So, farewell all my woe, all my delight! _Exit._

_Are._ Be merciful, ye gods, and strike me dead!
What way have I deserv’d this? Make my breast 130
Transparent as pure crystall, 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?
_Enter_ BELLARIO.
Save me, how black
And guiltily, methinks, that boy looks now! 135
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 140
Nothing so great as wicked. Fly away!
Let my command force thee to that which shame
Would do without it. If thou understood’st
The loathed office thou hast undergone,
Why, thou wouldst hide thee under heaps of hills, 145
Lest men should dig and find thee.

_Bel._ 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 149
To seas, for which they are not seen to swell.
My lord hath struck his anger through my heart,
And let out all the hope of future joys.
You need not bid me fly; I came to part,
To take my latest leave. Farewell for ever!
I durst not run away in honesty 155
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 160
Go seek out some forgotten place to die! _Exit._

_Are._ Peace guide thee! Thou hast overthrown me once;
Yet, if I had another Troy to lose,
Thou, or another villain with thy looks, 164
Might talk me out of it, and send me naked,
My hair dishevell’d, through the fiery streets.

_Enter a_ Lady.

_Lady._ 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,[3229] let me discover thee 170
Bathing, and turn me to a fearful hind,
That I may die pursued by cruel hounds,
And have my story written in my wounds! _Exeunt._