Chapter XCIII: Act V: Scene I.3259

_Enter_ DION, CLEREMONT, _and_ THRASILINE.

_Thra._ Has the King sent for him to death?

_Dion._ Yes; but the King must know ’t is not in his power to war
with Heaven.

_Cle._ We linger time; the King sent for Philaster and the headsman
an hour ago. 5

_Thra._ Are all his wounds well?

_Dion._ All; they were but scratches; but the loss of blood made him
faint.

_Cle._ We dally, gentlemen.

_Thra._ Away! 10

_Dion._ We’ll scuffle hard before we perish.
_Exeunt._

[SCENE II.][3260]

_Enter_ PHILASTER, ARETHUSA, _and_ BELLARIO.

_Are._ Nay, faith, Philaster, grieve not; we are well.

_Bel._ Nay, good my lord, forbear; we’re wondrous well.

_Phi._ Oh, Arethusa, oh, Bellario,
Leave to be kind!
I shall be shut from Heaven, as now from earth,
If you continue so. I am a man 6
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, 10
And then forget me! And for thee, my boy,
I shall deliver words will mollify
The hearts of beasts to spare thy innocence.

_Bel._ Alas, my lord, my life is not a thing
Worthy your noble thoughts! ’T is not a life, 15
’T is but a piece of childhood thrown away.
Should I outlive you, I should then outlive
Virtue and honour; and when that day comes,
If ever I shall close these eyes but once,
May I live spotted for my perjury, 20
And waste my limbs to nothing!

_Are._ And I (the woful’st maid that 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. 25

_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.
Enjoy your kingdoms peacably, whilst I
For ever sleep forgotten with my faults. 30
Every just servant, every maid in love,
Will have a piece of me, if you be true.

_Are._ My dear lord, say not so.

_Bel._ A piece of you!
He was not born of woman that can cut
It and look on. 35

_Phi._ Take me in tears betwixt you, for my heart
Will break with shame and sorrow.

_Are._ Why, ’t is well.

_Bel._ Lament no more.

_Phi._ Why, what would you have done
If you had wrong’d me basely, and had found
Your[3261] life no price compar’d to mine?[3261] For love, sirs, 40
Deal with me truly.

_Bel._ ’T was mistaken, sir.

_Phi._ Why, if it were?

_Bel._ Then, sir, we would have ask’d
You pardon.

_Phi._ And have hope to enjoy it?

_Are._ Enjoy it! ay.

_Phi._ Would you indeed? Be plain.

_Bel._ We would, my lord.

_Phi._ Forgive me, then.

_Are._ So, so. 45

_Bel._ ’T is as it should be now.

_Phi._ Lead to my death. _Exeunt._

[SCENE III.][3262]

_Enter_ KING, DION, CLEREMONT, THRASILINE [_and_ Attendants].

_King._ Gentlemen, who saw the prince?

_Cle._ So please you, sir, he’s gone to see the city
And the new platform, with some gentlemen
Attending on him.

_King._ Is the princess ready
To bring her prisoner out?

_Thra._ She waits your grace. 5

_King._ Tell her we stay. _Exit_ THRASILINE.

_Dion._ [_Aside._] King, you may be deceiv’d yet.
The head you aim at cost more setting on
Than to be lost so lightly. If it must off,—
Like a wild overflow, that swoops before him
A golden stack, and with it shakes down bridges, 10
Cracks the strong hearts of pines, whose cable-roots
Held out a thousand storms, a thousand thunders,
And, so made mightier, takes whole villages
Upon his back, and in that heat of pride 14
Charges 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.

_Enter_ ARETHUSA, PHILASTER, BELLARIO _in a robe and garland_ [_and_ THRASILINE].

_King._ How now? What masque is this? 20

_Bel._ Right royal sir, I should
Sing you an epithalamion of these lovers,
But having lost my best airs with my fortunes,
And wanting a celestial harp to strike
This blessed union on, thus in glad story 25
I give you all. These two fair cedar-branches,
The noblest of the mountain where they grew,
Straightest and tallest, under whose still shades
The worthier beasts have made their lairs, and slept
Free from the fervour of the Sirian star 30
And 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, 35
Base under-brambles, to divorce these branches;
And for a while they did so, and did reign
Over the mountain, and choke up his beauty
With brakes, rude thorns and thistles, till the sun
Scorcht them even to the roots and dried them there. 40
And now a gentle gale hath blown again,
That made these branches meet and twine together,
Never to be divided. The god that sings
His holy numbers over marriage-beds
Hath knit their noble hearts; and here they stand 45
Your 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 become
My keeper, and through all the bitter throes 50
Your jealousies and his ill fate have wrought him,
Thus nobly hath he struggled, and at length
Arrived here my dear husband.

_King._ Your dear husband!—
Call in the Captain of the Citadel—
There you shall keep your wedding. I’ll provide 55
A masque shall make your Hymen turn his saffron
Into a sullen coat, and sing sad requiems
To your departing souls.
Blood shall put out your torches; and, instead
Of gaudy flowers about your wanton necks, 60
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 off
Of father to this woman, this base woman;
And what there is of vengeance in a lion 65
Chaft 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, 69
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, 75
Or be thy prologue.

_Phi._ Sir, let me speak next;
And let my dying words be better with you
Than my dull living actions. If you aim
At the dear life of this sweet innocent,
You are a tyrant and a savage monster, 80
[That feeds upon the blood you gave a life to;][3263]
Your memory shall be as foul behind you,
As you are living; all your better deeds
Shall be in water writ, but this in marble; 84
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
To cover this base murder: make it rich
With brass, with purest gold, and shining jasper,
Like the Pyramides; lay on epitaphs 90
Such as make great men gods; my little marble,
That 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 rage 95
To cut off, unless it be some snake, or something
Like yourself, that in his birth shall strangle you.
Remember my father, King! There was a fault,
But I forgive it. Let that sin persuade you
To love this lady; if you have a soul, 100
Think, save her, and be saved. For myself,
I have so long expected this glad hour,
So languisht under you, and daily withered,
That, Heaven knows, it is a joy to die;
I find a recreation in’t. 105

_Enter a_ Messenger.

_Mess._ Where is the King?

_King._ Here.

_Mess._ Get you to your strength,
And rescue the Prince Pharamond from danger;
He’s taken prisoner by the citizens,
Fearing[3264] the Lord Philaster.

_Dion._ [_Aside._] Oh, brave followers!
Mutiny, my fine dear countrymen, mutiny! 110
Now, my brave valiant foremen, shew your weapons
In honour of your mistresses!

_Enter a_ Second Messenger.

_2 Mess._ Arm, arm, arm, arm!

_King._ A thousand devils take ’em!

_Dion._ [_Aside._] A thousand blessings on ’em!

_2 Mess._ Arm, O King! The city is in mutiny, 116
Led by an old gray ruffian, who comes on
In rescue of the Lord Philaster.

_King._ Away to the citadel! I’ll see them safe,
And then cope with these burghers. Let the guard 120
And all the gentlemen give strong attendance.

_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, 125
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, ’t will but lose time. 129

_Dion._ You say true. Are your swords sharp? —Well, my dear
countrymen What-ye-lacks,[3265] 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 (135) in new brave ballads, that all tongues shall troll
you in _saecula saeculorum_, my kind can-carriers.

_Thra._ What, if a toy[3266] take ’em i’ th’ heels now, and they run
all away, and cry, “the devil take the hindmost”? 140

_Dion._ Then the same devil take the foremost too, and souse him for
his breakfast! If they all prove cowards, my curses fly among them,
and be speeding! May they have murrains reign to keep the gentlemen
at home unbound (145) in easy frieze! May the moths branch[3267]
their velvets, and their silks only be worn before sore eyes! May
their false lights undo ’em, and discover presses,[3268] holes,
stains, and oldness in their stuffs, and make them shop-rid! 150
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 (155) their parcels, unless it be the goatish Latin they write in
their bonds—and may they write that false, and lose their debts!

_Re-enter_ KING.

_King._ Now the vengeance of all the gods confound them! How they
swarm together! (160) 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. ’T is Philaster, none but Philaster, must allay this heat.
They will not hear me speak, but (166) 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 (170) 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[3269] you every
long vacation a brace of foremen,[3270] (176) that at Michaelmas
shall come up fat and kicking.

_King._ What they will do with this poor prince, the gods know, and I
fear. 180

_Dion._ [_Aside._] Why, sir, they’ll flay him, and make
church-buckets 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 make 185
Your 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, 190
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, 195
I will not do your greatness so much wrong,
As not to make your word truth. Free the princess
And the poor boy, and let me stand the shock
Of this mad sea-breach, which I’ll either turn,
Or perish with it.

_King._ Let your own word free them. 200

_Phi_ Then thus I take my leave, kissing your hand,
And hanging on your royal word. Be kingly,
And be not mov’d, sir. I shall bring you peace
Or never bring myself back.

_King._ All the gods go with thee. _Exeunt._

[SCENE IV.][3271]

_Enter an old_ Captain _and_ Citizens _with_ PHARAMOND.

_Cap._ Come, my brave myrmidons, let us fall on.
Let your caps swarm, my boys, and your nimble tongues
Forget your mother-gibberish of “what do you lack?”
And set your mouths ope, children, till your palates
Fall frighted half a fathom past the cure 5
Of bay-salt and gross pepper, and then cry
“Philaster, brave Philaster!” Let Philaster
Be deeper in request, my ding-dongs,[3272]
My pairs of dear indentures,[3273] kings of clubs,[3273]
Than your cold water-camlets,[3274] or your paintings 10
Spitted with copper.[3275] Let not your hasty silks,
Or your branch’d cloth of bodkin,[3276] or your tissues,
Dearly belov’d of spiced cake and custards,
Your Robin Hoods, Scarlets, and Johns, tie your affections
In darkness to your shops. No dainty duckers,[3277]
Up with your three-pil’d spirits, your wrought valours;[3278] 16
And let your uncut cholers[3279] make the King feel
The measure of your mightiness. Philaster!
Cry, my rose-nobles,[3280] cry!

_All._ Philaster! Philaster!

_Cap._ How do you like this, my lord prince?
These are mad boys, I tell you; these are things 21
That will not strike their top-sails to a foist,[3281]
And let a man of war, an argosy,
Hull[3282] and cry cockles.[3283]

_Pha._ Why, you rude slave, do you know what you do? 25

_Cap._ My pretty prince of puppets, we do know;
And give your greatness warning that you talk
No more such bug’s-words,[3284] or that solder’d crown
Shall be scratch’d with a musket.[3285] Dear prince Pippin,
Down with your noble blood, or, as I live, 30
I ’ll have you coddled.[3286]—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?) 35
I could hulk[3287] your grace, and hang you up cross-legg’d,
Like a hare at a poulter’s, and do this with this wiper.[3288]

_Pha._ You will not see me murder’d, wicked villains?

_1 Cit._ Yes, indeed, will we, sir; we have not seen one
For a great while.

_Cap._ He would have weapons, would he? 40
Give him a broadside, my brave boys, with your pikes;
Branch me his skin in flowers like a satin,
And between every flower a mortal cut.—
Your royalty shall ravel![3289]—Jag him, gentlemen;
I’ll have him cut to the kell,[3290] then down the seams. 45
O for a whip to make him galloon-laces![3291]
I’ll have a coach-whip.

_Pha._ Oh, spare me, gentlemen!

_Cap._ Hold, hold;
The man begins to fear and know himself.
He shall for this time only be seel’d up,[3292] 50
With a feather through his nose, that he may only
See 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,[3293] 55
Thou slight prince of single sarcenet,[3294]
Thou royal ring-tail,[3295] fit to fly at nothing
But poor men’s poultry, and have every boy
Beat thee from that too with his bread and butter!

_Pha._ Gods keep me from these hell-hounds!

_1 Cit._ Shall’s geld him, captain? 61

_Cap._ No, you shall spare his dowcets, my dear donsels;[3296]
As you respect the ladies, let them flourish.
The curses of a longing woman kill
As speedy as a plague, boys. 65

_1 Cit._ I’ll have a leg, that’s certain.

_2 Cit._ I’ll have an arm.

_3 Cit._ I’ll have his nose, and at mine own charge build
A college and clap ’t upon the gate.[3297]

_4 Cit._ I’ll have his little gut to string a kit[3298] with;
For certainly a royal gut will sound like silver.

_Pha._ Would they were in thy belly, and I past 71
My pain once!

_5 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. 75

_1 Cit._ Captain, I’ll give you the trimming of your two-hand sword,
And let me have his skin to make false scabbards.

_2 Cit._ He had no horns, sir, had he?

_Cap._ No, sir, he ’s a pollard.[3299]
What wouldst thou do with horns?

_2 Cit._ Oh, if he had had, 80
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 these
Rude weapons brought abroad, to teach your hands 85
Uncivil trades?

_Cap._ My royal Rosicleer,[3300]
We are thy myrmidons, thy guard, thy roarers;[3301]
And when thy noble body is in durance,
Thus do we clap our musty murrions[3302] on,
And trace the streets in terror. Is it peace, 90
Thou Mars of men? Is the King sociable,
And bids thee live? Art thou above thy foe-men,
And free as Phoebus? Speak. If not, this stand[3303]
Of royal blood shall he abroach, a-tilt,
And run even to the lees of honour. 95

_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[3304]
Kiss their gumm’d golls,[3305] and cry, “We are your servants”? 101
Is the court navigable and the presence stuck
With 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. 106

_Pha._ Sir, there is some humanity in you;
You have a noble soul. Forget my name,
And know my misery; set me safe aboard
From these wild cannibals, and as I live, 110
I ’ll quit this land for ever. There is nothing,—
Perpetual prisonment, cold, hunger, sickness
Of all sorts, of all dangers, and all together,
The worst company of the worst men, madness, age,
To be as many creatures as a woman, 115
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 hour
Amongst these wild dogs.

_Phi._ I do pity you.—Friends, discharge your fears; 120
Deliver me the prince. I ’ll warrant you
I shall be old enough to find my safety.

_3 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,[3306] 125
And make[3307] 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. 130
Good my friends, go to your houses,
And by me have your pardons and my love;
And know there shall be nothing in my power
You 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, 136
Drink this. [_Gives money._]

_All._ Long mayst thou live, brave prince, brave prince, brave prince!
_Exeunt_ PHIL. _and_ PHAR.

_Cap._ Go thy ways, thou art the king of courtesy!
Fall off again, my sweet youths. Come, 140
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._

[SCENE V.][3308]

_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 Philaster
Brings on the prince himself.

_King._ Kind gentleman!
I will not break the least word I have given 5
In promise to him. I have heap’d a world
Of grief upon his head, which yet I hope
To wash away.

_Enter_ PHILASTER _and_ PHARAMOND.

_Cle._ My lord is come.

_King._ My son!
Blest be the time that I have leave to call
Such virtue mine! Now thou art in mine arms,
Methinks I have a salve unto my breast 11
For all the stings that dwell there. Streams of grief
That I have wrong’d thee, and as much of joy
That I repent it, issue from mine eyes;
Let them appease thee. Take thy right; take her; 15
She is thy right too; and forget to urge
My 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 leave 20
To make an honourable voyage home.
And if you would go furnish’d to your realm
With fair provision, I do see a lady,
Methinks, would gladly bear you company.
How like you this piece?

_Meg._ Sir, he likes it well, 25
For he hath tried it, and hath found it worth
His princely liking. We were ta’en abed;
I know your meaning. I am not the first
That nature taught to seek a fellow forth;
Can shame remain perpetually in me, 30
And not in others? Or have princes salves
To 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! 35

_Meg._ Others took me, and I took her and him
At that all women may be ta’en sometime.
Ship us all four, my lord; we can endure
Weather and wind alike.

_King._ Clear thou thyself, or know not me for father. 40

_Are._ This earth, how false it is! What means is left for me
To clear myself? It lies in your belief.
My lords, believe me; and let all things else
Struggle together to dishonour me.

_Bel._ Oh, stop your ears, great King, that I may speak 45
As freedom would! Then I will call this lady
As base as are her actions. Hear me, sir;
Believe your heated blood when it rebels
Against your reason, sooner than this lady.

_Meg._ By this good light, he bears it handsomely. 50

_Phi._ This lady! I will sooner trust the wind
With 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 take 55
Revenge on you; then what were to be known
But death?

_King._ Forget her, sir, since all is knit
Between us. But I must request of you
One favour, and will sadly[3309] be denied.

_Phi._ Command, whate’er it be.

_King._ Swear to be true 60
To what you promise.

_Phi._ By the powers above,
Let it not be the death of her or him,
And it is granted!

_King._ Bear away that boy
To 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 right 66
In one poor grave; but do not take away
My life and fame at once.

_King._ Away with him! It stands irrevocable.

_Phi._ Turn all your eyes on me. Here stands a man, 70
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 last
Is pitiful, for I unwillingly 75
Have given the dear preserver of my life
Unto his torture. Is it in the power
Of 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 flesh 80
Will 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. 85

_King._ Speak then.

_Bel._ Great King, if you command
This lord to talk with me alone, my tongue
Urg’d by my heart, shall utter all the thoughts
My youth hath known; and stranger things than these
You hear not often.

_King._ Walk aside with him. 90
[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 readily
I know not where.

_Bel._ I have been often told
In court of one Euphrasia, a lady, 95
And daughter to you; betwixt whom and me
They that would flatter my bad face would swear
There was such strange resemblance, that we two
Could not be known asunder, drest alike.

_Dion._ By Heaven, and so there is!

_Bel._ For her fair sake, 100
Who now doth spend the spring-time of her life
In holy pilgrimage, move to the King,
That I may scape this torture.

_Dion._ But thou speak’st
As like Euphrasia as thou dost look.
How came it to thy knowledge that she lives 105
In 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?[3310] Where wert thou born? 110

_Bel._ In Syracusa.

_Dion._ What’s thy name?

_Bel._ Euphrasia.

_Dion._ Oh, ’t is just, ’t is she!
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 mine 115
E’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’d
What I have told, but that there was no means
To hide it longer. Yet I joy in this, 120
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. 125

_Phi._ How? That again!

_Dion._ It is a woman.

_Phi._ Blest 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, take 130
My soul into thy breast, that would be gone
With joy. It is a woman! Thou art fair,
And virtuous still to ages, in despite
Of malice.

_King._ Speak you, where lies his shame?

_Bel._ I am his daughter. 135

_Phi._ The gods are just.

_Dion._ I dare accuse none; but, before you two,
The virtue of our age, I bend my knee
For mercy. [_Kneels._]

_Phi._ [_raising him._] Take it freely; for I know,
Though what thou didst were undiscreetly done, 140
’T was meant well.

_Are._ And for me,
I have a power to pardon sins, as oft
As any man has power to wrong me.

_Cle._ Noble and worthy!

_Phi._ But, Bellario,
(For I must call thee still so,) tell me why 145
Thou didst conceal thy sex. It was a fault,
A fault, Bellario, though thy other deeds
Of truth outweigh’d it: all these jealousies
Had flown to nothing if thou hadst discovered
What now we know.

_Bel._ My father oft would speak 150
Your worth and virtue; and, as I did grow
More and more apprehensive,[3311] I did thirst
To see the man so prais’d. But yet all this
Was but a maiden-longing, to be lost
As soon as found; till, sitting in my window, 155
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 fast
As I had puft it forth and suckt it in 159
Like breath. Then was I call’d away in haste
To entertain you. Never was a man,
Heav’d from a sheep-cote to a sceptre, rais’d
So high in thoughts as I. You left a kiss
Upon these lips then, which I mean to keep
From you for ever. I did hear you talk, 165
Far above singing. After you were gone,
I grew acquainted with my heart, and search’d
What stirr’d it so: alas, I found it love!
Yet far from lust; for, could I but have liv’d
In presence of you, I had had my end. 170
For this I did delude my noble father
With a feign’d pilgrimage, and drest myself
In habit of a boy; and, for I knew
My birth no match for you, I was past hope
Of having you; and, understanding well 175
That when I made discovery of my sex
I could not stay with you, I made a vow,
By all the most religious things a maid
Could call together, never to be known,
Whilst there was hope to hide me from men’s eyes, 180
For other than I seem’d, that I might ever
Abide with you. Then sat I by the fount,
Where first you took me up.

_King._ Search out a match
Within our kingdom, where and when thou wilt,
And I will pay thy dowry; and thyself 185
Wilt well deserve him.

_Bel._ Never, sir, will I
Marry; 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, 190
Cannot be jealous, though you had a lady
Drest like a page to serve you; nor will I
Suspect her living here.—Come, live with me;
Live free as I do. She that loves my lord,
Curst be the wife that hates her! 195

_Phi._ I grieve such virtue should be laid in earth
Without 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 free 200
As 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 home
Worthy so great a prince. When you come there, 205
Remember ’t was 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,
This kingdom, which is yours, and, after me, 210
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 spring
Wherever there is sun! Let princes learn 215
By this to rule the passions of their blood;
For what Heaven wills can never be withstood. _Exeunt omnes._

THE MAID’S TRAGEDY

BY FRANCIS BEAUMONT AND JOHN FLETCHER

[DRAMATIS PERSONAE.]

KING.
LYSIPPUS, brother to the King.
AMINTOR, [a noble Gentleman.]
MELANTIUS, }
DIPHILUS, } brothers to Evadne.
CALIANAX, an old humorous Lord, and father to Aspatia.
CLEON, }
STRATO, } Gentlemen.
DIAGORAS, a servant.
[Lords, Gentlemen, Servants, etc.]
EVADNE, wife to Amintor.
ASPATIA, troth-plight wife to Amintor.
ANTIPHILA, }
OLYMPIAS, } waiting gentlewomen to Aspatia.
DULA, a Lady, [attendant on Evadne.]
[Ladies.]

MASQUERS.

Night, Cynthia, Neptune, Aeolus, [Sea Gods, Winds.]

[SCENE.—_The City of Rhodes._]