¶Enter KING, DION, CLEREMONT, THRASILINE, [and Attendants]
¶King. Gentlemen, who saw the prince?Cle. So please you, sir, he's gone to see the cityAnd the new platform, with some gentlemenAttending on him.King. Is the princess readyTo bring her prisoner out?Thra. She waits your grace.King. Tell her we stay. Exit THRASILINE.Dion. [Aside.] King, you may be deceiv'd yet.The head you aim at cost more setting onThan to be lost so lightly. If it must off,—Like a wild overflow, that swoops before himA golden stack, and with it shakes down bridges,Cracks the strong hearts of pines, whose cable-rootsHeld out a thousand storms, a thousand thunders,And, so made mightier, takes whole villagesUpon his back, and in that heat of prideCharges strong towns, towers, castles, palaces,And lays them desolate; so shall thy head,Thy noble head, bury the lives of thousands,That must bleed with thee like a sacrifice,In thy red ruins.
p. 734¶Enter ARETHUSA, PHILASTER, BELLARIO in a robe and garland, [and
Thrasiline.]
¶King. How now? What masque is this?Bel. Right royal sir, I shouldSing you an epithalamion of these lovers,But having lost my best airs with my fortunes,And wanting a celestial harp to strikeThis blessed union on, thus in glad storyI give you all. These two fair cedar-branchesThe noblest of the mountain where they grew,Straightest and tallest, under whose still shadesThe worthier beasts have made their lairs, and sleptFree from the fervour of the Sirian starAnd the fell thunder-stroke, free from the clouds,When they were big with humour, and deliver'd,In thousand spouts their issues to the earth;Oh, there was none but silent quiet there!Till never-pleased Fortune shot up shrubs,Base under-brambles, to. divorce these branches;And for a while they did so, and did reignOver the mountain, and choke up his beautyWith brakes, rude thorns and thistles, till the sunScorch'd them even to the roots and dried them there.And now a gentle gale hath blown again,That made these branches meet and twine together,Never to be divided. The god that singsHis holy numbers over marriage-bedsHath knit their noble hearts; and here they standYour children, mighty King: and I have done.King. How, how ?Are. Sir, if you love it in plain truth,(For now there is no masquing in't,) this gentleman,The prisoner that you gave me, is becomeMy keeper, and through all the bitter throesYour jealousies and his ill fate have wrought him,Thus nobly hath he struggled, and at length[735]Arrived here my dear husband.King. Your dear husband!—Call in the Captain of the Citadel.—There you shall keep your wedding. I'll provideA masque shall make your Hymen turn his saffronInto a sullen coat, and sing sad requiemsTo your departing souls.Blood shall put out your torches; and, insteadOf gaudy flowers about your wanton necks,An axe shall hang, like a prodigious meteor,Ready to crop your loves' sweets. Hear, you gods!From this time do I shake all title offOf father to this woman, this base woman;And what there is of vengeance in a lionChaf'd among dogs or robb'd of his dear young,The same, enforc'd more terrible, more mighty,Expect from me!Are. Sir, by that little life I have left to swear by,There's nothing that can stir me from myself.What I have done, I have done without repentance,For death can be no bugbear unto me,So long as Pharamond is not my headsman.Dion. [Aside.] Sweet peace upon thy soul, thou worthy maid,Whene'er thou diest! For this time I'll excuse thee,Or be thy prologue.Phi. Sir, let me speak next;And let my dying words be better with youThan my dull living actions. If you aimAt the dear life of this sweet innocent,You are a tyrant and a savage monster,That feeds upon the blood you gave a life to;Your memory shall be as foul behind you,As you are living; all your better deedsShall be in water writ, but this in marble;No chronicle shall speak you, though your own,But for the shame of men. No monument,Though high and big as Pelion, shall be able[736]To cover this base murder: make it richWith brass, with purest gold and shining jasper,Like the Pyramides; lay on epitaphsSuch as make great men gods; my little marbleThat only clothes my ashes, not my faults,Shall far outshine it. And for after-issues,Think not so madly of the heavenly wisdoms,That they will give you more for your mad rageTo cut off, unless it be some snake, or somethingLike yourself, that in his birth shall strangle you.Remember my father, King! There was a fault,But I forgive it. Let that sin persuade youTo love this lady; if you have a soul,Think, save her, and be saved. For myself,I have so long expected this glad hour,So languish'd under you, and daily withered,That, Heaven knows, it is a joy to die;I find a recreation in't.
¶Enter a MessengerMess. Where is the King?King. Here.Mess. Get you to your strengthAnd rescue the Prince Pharamond from danger;He's taken prisoner by the citizens,Fearing1 the Lord Philaster.Dion. [Aside.] Oh, brave followers!Mutiny, my fine dear countrymen, mutiny!Now, my brave valiant foremen, shew your weaponsIn honour of your mistresses! [Aside.]
¶Enter a Second Messenger2nd Mess. Arm, arm, arm, arm!King. A thousand devils take 'em!Dion. [Aside.] A thousand blessings on 'em![737]2nd Mess. Arm, O King! The city is in mutiny,Led by an old grey ruffian, who comes onIn rescue of the Lord Philaster.King. Away to the citadel! I'll see them safe,And then cope with these burghers. Let the guardAnd all the gentlemen give strong attendance.
p. 737¶Exeunt all except DION, CLEREMONT, and THRASILINE.
¶Cle. The city up! this was above our wishes.
¶Dion. Ay, and the marriage too. By my life,
¶This noble lady has deceiv'd us all.
¶A plague upon myself, a thousand plagues,
¶For having such unworthy thoughts of her dear honour!
¶Oh, I could beat myself! Or do you beat me,
¶And I'll beat you; for we had all one thought.
¶Cle. No, no, 'twill but lose time.
¶Dion. You say true. Are your swords sharp?—Well, my dear countrymen What-ye-lacks, 2 if you continue, and fall not back upon the first broken skin, I'll have you chronicled and chronicled, and cut and chronicled, and all-to-be-prais'd and sung in sonnets, and bawled in new brave ballads, that all tongues shall troll you in sxcula sxculorum, my kind can-carriers.
¶Thra. What, if a toy 3 take 'em i' the heels now, and they run all away, and cry, "the devil take the hindmost"?
¶Dion. Then the same devil take the foremost too, and souse him for his breakfast! If they all prove cowards, my curses fly amongst them, and be speeding! May they have murrains reign to keep the gentlemen at home unbound in easy frieze! May the moths branch 4 their velvets, and their silks only to be worn before sore eyes! May their false lights undo 'em, and discover presses, 5 holes, stains, and oldness in their stuffs, and make them shop-rid! May they keep whores and horses, and break; and live mewed up with necks of beef and turnips! May they have many children, and none like the father! May they know no language but that gibberish they prattle to their parcels, unless it be the goatish Latin they write in their bonds—and may they write that false, and lose their debts!
¶King. Now the vengeance of all the gods confound them! How they swarm together! What a hum they raise!—Devils choke your wild throats! If a man had need to use their valours, he must pay a brokage for it, and then bring 'em on, and they will fight like sheep. 'Tis Philaster, none but Philaster, must allay this heat. They will not hear me speak, but fling dirt at me and call me tyrant. Oh, run, dear friend, and bring the Lord Philaster! Speak him fair; call him prince; do him all the courtesy you can; commend me to him. Oh, my wits, my wits! Exit CLEREMONT.
¶Dion. [Aside.] Oh, my brave countrymen! as I live, I will not buy a pin out of your walls for this. Nay, you shall cozen me, and I'll thank you, and send you brawn and bacon, and soil 6 you every long vacation a brace of foremen, 7 that at Michaelmas shall come up fat and kicking.
¶King. What they will do with this poor prince, the gods know, and I fear.
¶Dion. [Aside.] Why, sir, they'll flay him, and make churchbuckets on's skin, to quench rebellion; then clap a rivet in's sconce, and hang him up for a sign.
Enter CLEREMONT with PHILASTER
¶King. Oh, worthy sir, forgive me! Do not makeYour miseries and my faults meet together,To bring a greater danger. Be yourself,Still sound amongst diseases. I have wrong'd you;And though I find it last, and beaten to it,Let first your goodness know it. Calm the people,And be what you were born to. Take your love,And with her my repentance, all my wishes,And all my prayers. By the gods, my heart speaks this;And if the least fall from me not perform'd,May I be struck with thunder!Phi. Mighty sir,[739]I will not do your greatness so much wrong,As not to make your word truth. Free the princessAnd the poor boy, and let me stand the shockOf this mad sea-breach, which I'll either turn,Or perish with it.King. Let your own word free them.Phi. Then thus I take my leave, kissing your hand,And hanging on your royal word. Be kingly,And be not moved, sir. I shall bring you peaceOr never bring myself back.King. All the gods go with thee. Exeunt.
p. 739¶[SCENE IV. A street]Enter an old Captain and Citizens with PHARAMONDCap. Come, my brave myrmidons, let us fall on.Let your caps swarm, my boys, and your nimble tonguesForget your mother-gibberish of "what do you lack?"And set your mouths ope, children, till your palatesFall frighted half a fathom past the cureOf bay-salt and gross pepper, and then cry"Philaster, brave Philaster!" Let PhilasterBe deeper in request, my ding-dongs, 1My pairs of dear indentures, 2 kings of clubs, 2Than your cold water-camlets, 3 or your paintingsSpitted with copper. 4 Let not your hasty silks,Or your branch'd cloth of bodkin, 5 or your tissues,Dearly beloved of spiced cake and custard,Your Robin Hoods, Scarlets, and Johns, tie your affectionsIn darkness to your shops. No, dainty duckers 6Up with your three-piled spirits, your wrought valours; 7And let your uncut cholers 8 make the King feel[740]The measure of your mightiness. Philaster!Cry, my rose-nobles, 9 cry!All. Philaster! Philaster!Cap. How do you like this, my lord-prince?These are mad boys, I tell you; these are thingsThat will not strike their top-sails to a foist, 10And let a man of war, an argosy,
p. 740¶Hull 1 1 and cry cockles. 12
¶Pha. Why, you rude slave, do you know what you do?Cap. My pretty prince of puppets, we do know;And give your greatness warning that you talkNo more such bug's-words, 13 or that solder'd crownShall be scratch'd with a musket." Dear prince Pippin,Down with your noble blood, or, as I live,I'll have you coddled. 15—Let him loose, my spirits:Make us a round ring with your bills, my Hectors,And let us see what this trim man dares do.Now, sir, have at you! here I lie;And with this swashing blow (do you see, sweet prince?)I could hulk 1 6 your grace, and hang you up cross-legg'd,Like a hare at a poulter's, and do this with this wiper. 1'Pha. You will not see me murder'd, wicked villains?ist Cit. Yes, indeed, will we, sir; we have not seen oneFor a great while.Cap. He would have weapons, would he?Give him a broadside, my brave boys, with your pikes;Branch 18 me his skin in flowers like a satin,And between every flower a mortal cut.—Your royalty shall ravel!—Jag him, gentlemen;I'll have him cut to the kell, 19 then down the seams.O for a whip to make him galloon-laces! 20I'll have a coach-whip.Pha. Oh, spare me, gentlemen![741]Cap. Hold, hold;The man begins to fear and know himself.He shall for this time only be seel'd up, 21With a feather through his nose, that he may onlySee heaven, and think whither he is going.Nay, my beyond-sea sir, we will proclaim you:You would be king!Thou tender heir apparent to a church-ale, 22Thou slight prince of single sarcenet, 23Thou royal ring-tail, 24 fit to fly at nothingBut poor men's poultry, and have every boyBeat thee from that too with his bread and butter!Pha. Gods keep me from these hell-hounds!1st Cit. I'll have a leg, that's certain.2nd Cit. I'll have an arm.yd Cit. I'll have his nose, and at mine own charge buildA college and clap't upon the gate. 254th Cit. I'll have his little gut to string a kit 2 6 with;For certainly a royal gut will sound like silver.Pha. Would they were in thy belly, and I pastMy pain once!5th Cit. Good captain, let me have his liver to feed ferrets.Cap. Who will have parcels else? Speak.Pha. Good gods, consider me! I shall be tortur'd.1st Cit. Captain, I'll give you the trimming of your two-handsword,And let me have his skin to make false scabbards.2nd Cit. He had no horns, sir, had he?Cap. No, sir, he's a pollard. 27What wouldst thou do with horns ?2nd Cit. Oh, if he had had,I would have made rare hafts and whistles of 'em;But his shin-bones, if they be sound, shall serve me.
Enter PHILASTER
¶All. Long live Philaster, the brave Prince Philaster!Phi. I thank you, gentlemen. But why are theseRude weapons brought abroad, to teach your handsUncivil trades?Cap. My royal Rosicleer, 28We are thy myrmidons, thy guard, thy roarers; 29And when thy noble body is in durance,Thus do we clap our musty murrions 30 on,And trace the streets in terror. Is it peace,Thou Mars of men ? Is the King sociable,And bids thee live ? Art thou above thy foemen,And free as Phoebus ? Speak. If not, this stand 31Of royal blood shall be abroach, a-tilt,And run even to the lees of honour.Phi. Hold, and be satisfied. I am myself;Free as my thoughts are; by the gods, I am!Cap. Art thou the dainty darling of the King?Art thou the Hylas to our Hercules?Do the lords bow, and the regarded scarlets 32Kiss their gummed golls, 33 and cry, "We are your servants" ?Is the court navigable, and the presence stuckWith flags of friendship ? If not, we are thy castle,And this man sleeps.Phi. I am what I desire to be, your friend;I am what I was born to be, your prince.Pha. Sir, there is some humanity in you;You have a noble soul. Forget my name,And know my misery; set me safe aboardFrom these wild cannibals, and, as I live,I'll quit this land for ever. There is nothing,—Perpetual prisonment, cold, hunger, sicknessOf all sorts, of all dangers, and all together,The worst company of the worst men, madness, age,[743]To be as many creatures as a woman,And do as all they do, nay, to despair,—But I would rather make it a new nature,And live with all these, than endure one hourAmongst these wild dogs.Phi. I do pity you.—Friends, discharge your fears;Deliver me the prince. I'll warrant youI shall be old enough to find my safety.yd Cit. Good sir, take heed he does not hurt you;He is a fierce man, I can tell you, sir.Cap. Prince, by your leave, I'll have a surcingle, 34And make 35 you like a hawk. [PHAR.] strives.Phi. Away, away, there is no danger in him:Alas, he had rather sleep to shake his fit off!Look you, friends, how gently he leads! Upon my word,He's tame enough, he needs no further watching.Good my friends, go to your houses,And by me have your pardons and my love;And know there shall be nothing in my powerYou may deserve, but you shall have your wishes.To give you more thanks, were to flatter you.Continue still your love; and, for an earnest,Drink this. [Gives money.]All. Long mayst thou live, brave prince, brave prince, braveprince! Exeunt PHIL, and PHAR.Cap. Go thy ways, thou art the king of courtesy!Fall off again, my sweet youths. Come,And every man trace to his house again,And hang his pewter up; then to the tavern,And bring your wives in muffs. We will have music;And the red grape shall make us dance and rise, boys. Exeunt.[744][SCENE V. An apartment in the palace]
p. 744¶Enter KING, ARETHUSA, GALATEA, MEGRA, DION, CLEREMONT,
¶THRASILINE, BELLARIO, and Attendants
¶King. Is it appeas'd?Dion. Sir, all is quiet as this dead of night,As peaceable as sleep. My lord PhilasterBrings on the prince himself.King. Kind gentleman!I will not break the least word I have givenIn promise to him. I have heap'd a worldOf grief upon his head, which yet I hopeTo wash away.
Enter PHILASTER and PHARAMOND
¶Cle. My lord is come.King. My son!Blest be the time that I have leave to callSuch virtue mine! Now thou art in mine arms,Methinks I have a salve unto my breastFor all the stings that dwell there. Streams of griefThat I have wrong'd thee, and as much of joyThat I repent it, issue from mine eyes;Let them appease thee. Take thy right; take her;She is thy right too; and forget to urgeMy vexed soul with that I did before.Phi. Sir, it is blotted from my memory,Past and forgotten.—For you, prince of Spain,Whom I have thus redeem'd, you have full leaveTo make an honourable voyage home.And if you would go furnish'd to your realmWith fair provision, I do see a lady,Methinks, would gladly bear you company.How like you this piece ?Meg. Sir, he likes it well,For he hath tried it, and hath found it worthHis princely liking. We were ta'en abed;[745]I know your meaning. I am not the firstThat nature taught to seek a fellow forth;Can shame remain perpetually in me,And not in others ? Or have princes salvesTo cure ill names, that meaner people want?Phi. What mean you?Meg. You must get another ship,To bear the princess and her boy together.Dion. How now!Meg. Others took me, and I took her and him.Ship us all four, my lord; we can endureWeather and wind alike.King. Clear thou thyself, or know not me for father.Are. This earth, how false it is! What means is left for meTo clear myself? It lies in your belief.My lords, believe me; and let all things elseStruggle together to dishonour me.Bel. Oh, stop your ears, great King, that I may speakAs freedom would! Then I will call this ladyAs base as are her actions. Hear me, sir;Believe your heated blood when it rebelsAgainst your reason, sooner than this lady.Meg. By this good light, he bears it handsomely.Phi. This lady! I will sooner trust the windWith feathers, or the troubled sea with pearl,Than her with any thing. Believe her not.Why, think you, if I did believe her words,I would outlive 'em? Honour cannot takeRevenge on you; then what were to be knownBut death?King. Forget her, sir, since all is knitBetween us. But I must request of youOne favour, and will sadly1 be denied.Phi. Command, whate'er it be.King. Swear to be trueTo what you promise.[746]Phi. By the powers above,Let it not be the death of her or him,And it is granted!King. Bear away that boyTo torture; I will have her clear'd or buried.Phi. Oh, let me call my word back, worthy sir!Ask something else: bury my life and rightIn one poor grave; but do not take awayMy life and fame at once.King. Away with him! It stands irrevocable.Phi. Turn all your eyes on me. Here stands a man,The falsest and the basest of this world.Set swords against this breast, some honest man,For I have liv'd till I am pitied!My former deeds were hateful; but this lastIs pitiful, for I unwillinglyHave given the dear preserver of my lifeUnto his torture. Is it in the powerOf flesh and blood to carry this, and live ? Offers to stab himself.Are. Dear sir, be patient yet! Oh, stay that hand!King. Sirs, strip that boy.Dion. Come, sir; your tender fleshWill try your constancy.Bel. Oh, kill me, gentlemen!Dion. No.—Help, sirs.Bel. Will you torture me?King. Haste there;Why stay you?Bel. Then I shall not break my vow,You know, just gods, though I discover all.King. How's that? Will he confess?Dion. Sir, so he says.King. Speak then.Bel. Great King, if you commandThis lord to talk with me alone, my tongue,Urg'd by my heart, shall utter all the thoughts[747]My youth hath known; and stranger things than theseYou hear not often.King. Walk aside with him.[DION and BELLARIO walk, apart.]Dion. Why speak'st thou not ?Bel. Know you this face, my lord ?Dion. No.Bel. Have you not seen it, nor the like ?Dion. Yes, I have seen the like, but readilyI know not where.Bel. I have been often toldIn court of one Euphrasia, a lady,And daughter to you; betwixt whom and meThey that would flatter my bad face would swearThere was such strange resemblance, that we twoCould not be known asunder, drest alike.Dion. By Heaven, and so there is!Bel. For her fair sake,Who now doth spend the spring-time of her lifeIn holy pilgrimage, move to the King,That I may scape this torture.Dion. But thou speak'stAs like Euphrasia as thou dost look.How came it to thy knowledge that she livesIn pilgrimage?Bel. I know it not, my lord;But I have heard it, and do scarce believe it.Dion. Oh, my shame! is it possible? Draw near,That I may gaze upon thee. Art thou she,Or else her murderer?1 Where wert thou born?Bel. In Syracusa.Dion. What's thy name ?Bel. Euphrasia.Dion. Oh, 'tis just, 'tis she![748]Now I do know thee. Oh, that thou hadst died,And I had never seen thee nor my shame!How shall I own thee ? Shall this tongue of mineE'er call thee daughter more ?Bel. Would I had died indeed! I wish it too;And so I must have done by vow, ere publish'dWhat I have told, but that there was no meansTo hide it longer. Yet I joy in this,The princess is all clear.King. What, have you done?Dion. All is discovered.Phi. Why then hold you me?All is discovered! Pray you, let me go. Offers to stab himself.King. Stay him.Are. What is discovered?Dion. Why, my shame.It is a woman: let her speak the rest.Phi. How? That again!Dion. It is a woman.Phi. Blessed be you powers that favour innocence!King. Lay hold upon that lady. [MEGRA is seized.]Phi. It is a woman, sir!—Hark, gentlemen,It is a woman!—Arethusa, takeMy soul into thy breast, that would be goneWith joy. It is a woman! Thou art fair,And virtuous still to ages, in despiteOf malice.King. Speak you, where lies his shame ?Bel. I am his daughter.Phi. The gods are just.Dion. I dare accuse none; but, before you two,The virtue of our age, I bend my kneeFor mercy. [Kneels.]'Phi. [raising him] Take it freely; for I know,Though what thou didst were undiscreetly done,'Twas meant well.Are. And for me,I have a power to pardon sins, as oft[749]As any man has power to wrong me.Cle. Noble and worthy!Phi. But, Bellario,(For I must call thee still so,) tell me whyThou didst conceal thy sex. It was a fault,A fault, Bellario, though thy other deedsOf truth outweigh'd it: all these jealousiesHad flown to nothing, if thou hadst discoveredWhat now we know.Bel. My father oft would speakYour worth and virtue; and, as I did growMore and more apprehensive,1 I did thirstTo see the man so prais'd. But yet all thisWas but a maiden-longing, to be lostAs soon as found; till, sitting in my window,Printing my thoughts in lawn, I saw a god,I thought, (but it was you,) enter our gates.My blood flew out and back again, as fastAs I had puff'd it forth and suck'd it inLike breath. Then was I called away in hasteTo entertain you. Never was a man,Heav'd from a sheep-cote to a sceptre, rais'dSo high in thoughts as I. You left a kissUpon these lips then, which I mean to keepFrom you for ever. I did hear you talk,Far above singing. After you were gone,I grew acquainted with my heart, and search'dWhat stirred it so: alas, I found it love!Yet far from lust; for, could I but have liv'dIn presence of you, I had had my end.For this I did delude my noble fatherWith a feign'd pilgrimage, and dress'd myselfIn habit of a boy; and, for I knewMy birth no match for you, I was past hopeOf having you; and, understanding wellThat when I made discovery of my sexI could not stay with you, I made a vow,[750]By all the most religious things a maidCould call together, never to be known,Whilst there was hope to hide me from men's eyes,For other than I seem'd, that I might everAbide with you. Then sat I by the fount,Where first you took me up.King. Search out a matchWithin our kingdom, where and when thou wilt,And I will pay thy dowry; and thyselfWilt well deserve him.Bel. Never, sir, will IMarry; it is a thing within my vow:But, if I may have leave to serve the princess,To see the virtues of her lord and her,I shall have hope to live.Are. I, Philaster,Cannot be jealous, though you had a ladyDrest like a page to serve you; nor will ISuspect her living here.—Come, live with me;Live free as I do. She that loves my lord,Curs'd be the wife that hates her!Phi. I grieve such virtue should be laid in earthWithout an heir.—Hear me, my royal father:Wrong not the freedom of our souls so much,To think to take revenge of that base woman;Her malice cannot hurt us. Set her freeAs she was born, saving from shame and sin.King. Set her at liberty.—But leave the court;This is no place for such.—You, Pharamond,Shall have free passage, and a conduct homeWorthy so great a prince. When you come there,Remember 'twas your faults that lost you her,And not my purpos'd will.Pha. I do confess,Renowned sir.King. Last, join your hands in one. Enjoy, Philaster,[751]This kingdom, which is yours, and, after me,Whatever I call mine. My blessing on you!All happy hours be at your marriage-joys,That you may grow yourselves over all lands,And live to see your plenteous branches springWherever there is sun! Let princes learnBy this to rule the passions of their blood;For what Heaven wills can never be withstood. Exeunt omnes.