As I'de use one,
that's left unto my trust,
For whom my life
should pay, if he met harm,
So she does use
me. Phi.
Why, this is wondrous well:
But what kind language
does she feed thee with?
Bell.
Why, she does tell me, she will trust my youth
With all her loving
secrets; and does call me
Her pretty servant,
bids me weep no more
For leaving you:
shee'l see my services
Regarded; and such
words of that soft strain,
That I am nearer
weeping when she ends
Than ere she spake.
Phi.
This is much better still.
Bell
Are you ill my Lord?
Phi.
Ill? No Bellario.
Bell
Me thinks your words
Fall not from off
your tongue so evenly,
Nor is there in
your looks that quietness,
That I was wont
to see.
Phi
Thou art deceiv'd boy:
And she stroakes
thy head? Bell.
Yes.
Phi.
And she does clap thy cheeks?
Bell.
She does my Lord.
Phi.
And she does kiss thee boy? ha!
Bell.
How my Lord?
Phi.
She kisses thee? Bell.
Not so my Lord.
Phi.
Come, come, I know she does.
Bell.
No by my life.
Phi.
Why then she does not love me; come, she does,
I bad her do it;
I charg'd her by all charms
Of love between
us, by the hope of peace
We should enjoy,
to yield thee all delights
Naked, as to her
bed: I took her oath
Thou should'st enjoy
her: Tell me gentle boy,
Is she not paralleless?
Is not her breath
Sweet as Arabian
winds, when fruits are ripe?
Are not her breasts
two liquid Ivory balls?
Is she not all a
lasting Mine of joy?
Bell.
I, now I see why my disturbed thoughts
Were so perplext.
When first I went to her;
My heart held augury,
you are abus'd,
Some villain has
abus'd you; I do see
Whereto you tend;
fall Rocks upon his head,
That put this to
you; 'tis some subtil train,
To bring that noble
frame of yours to nought.
Phi.
Thou think'st I will be angry with thee; Come
Thou shalt know
all my drift, I hate her more,
Than I love happiness,
and plac'd thee there,
To pry with narrow
eyes into her deeds;
Hast thou discover'd?
Is she faln to lust,
["to lust" blacked out in the MS,
and some illegible words in their place]
As I would wish
her? Speak some comfort to me.
Bell.
My Lord, you did mistake the boy you sent:
Had she the lust
of Sparrows, or of Goats;
[The above line is completely blacked
out in the MS]
Had she a sin that
way, hid from the world,
Beyond the name
of lust, I would not aid
["Beyond the name of lust" blacked
out in MS]
Her base desires;
but what I came to know
As servant to her,
I would not reveal, to make my life last ages
Phi.
Oh my heart; this is a salve worse than the main disease.
Tell me thy thoughts;
for I will know the least
That dwells within
thee, or will rip thy heart
To know it, I will
see thy thoughts as plain,
As I do know thy
face. Bell
Why, so you do.
She is (for ought
I know) by all the gods,
As chaste as Ice;
but were she foul as Hell
And I did know it,
thus; the breath of Kings,
The points of Swords,
Tortures nor Bulls of Brass,
Should draw it from
me.
Phi.
Then 'tis no time to dally with thee;
I will take thy
life, for I do hate thee; I could curse thee now.
Bell.
If you do hate you could not curse me worse;
The gods have not
a punishment in store
Greater for me,
than is your hate.
Phi.
Fie, fie, so young and so dissembling,
Tell me when and
where thou dist enjoy her,
Or let plagues fall
on me, if I destroy thee not,
Bell.
Heaven knows I never did: and when I lie |
To
save my life, may I live long and loath'd.
Hew me asunder,
and whilst I can think
I'le love those
pieces you have cut away,
Better than those
that grow: and kiss these limbs,
Because you made
'em so.
Phi.
Fearest thou not death?
Can boys contemn
that? Bell.
Oh, what boy is he
Can be content to
live to be a man
That sees the best
of men thus passionate, thus without reason?
Phi.
Oh, but thou dost not know what 'tis to die.
Bell.
Yes, I do know my Lord;
'Tis less than to
be born; a lasting sleep,
A quiet resting
from all jealousie;
A thing we all pursue;
I know besides,
It is but giving
over of a game that must be lost.
Phi.
But there are pains, false boy,
For perjur'd souls;
think but on these, and then
Thy heart will melt,
and thou wilt utter all.
Bell.
May they fall all upon me whilst I live,
If I be perjur'd,
or have ever thought
Of that you charge
me with; if I be false,
Send me to suffer
in those punishments you speak of; kill me.
Phi.
Oh, what should I do?
Why, who can but
believe him? He does swear
So earnestly, that
if it were not true,
The gods would not
endure him. Rise Bellario,
Thy protestations
are so deep; and thou
Dost look so truly,
when thou utterest them,
That though I known
'em false, as were my hopes,
I cannot urge thee
further; but thou wert
To blame to injure
me, for I must love
Thy honest looks,
and take no revenge upon
Thy tender youth;
A love from me to thee
Is firm, what ere
thou dost: It troubles me
That I have call'd
the blood out of thy cheeks,
That did so well
become thee: but good boy
Let me not see thee
more; something is done,
That will distract
me, that will make me mad,
If I behold thee:
if thou tender'st me,
Let me not see thee.
Bell.
I will fly as far
As there is morning,
ere I give distaste
To that most honour'd
mind. But through these tears
Shed at my hopeless
parting, I can see
A world of Treason
practis'd upon you,
And her and me.
Farewel for evermore;
If you shall hear,
that sorrow struck me dead,
And after find me
Loyal, let there be
A tear shed from
you in my memorie.
And I shall rest
at peace. [Exit
Bel.
Phi.
Blessing be with thee,
What ever thou deserv'st.
Oh, where shall I
Go bath thy body?
Nature too unkind,
That made no medicine
for a troubled mind! [Ex.
Phi.
Enter
Arethuse. [3.2]
Are.
I marvel my boy comes not back again;
But that I know
my love will question him
Over and over; how
I slept, wak'd, talk'd;
How I remembred
him when his dear name
Was last spoke,
and how, when I sigh'd, wept, sung,
And ten thousand
such; I should be angry at his stay.
Enter
King.
King.
What are your meditations? who attends you?
Are.
None but my single self, I need no Guard,
I do no wrong, nor
fear none.
King.
Tell me: have you not a boy?
Are. Yes Sir.
King.
What kind of boy?
Are.
A Page, a waiting boy.
King.
A handsome boy?
Are.
I think he be not ugly:
Well qualified,
and dutiful, I know him,
I took him not
for beauty.
King.
He speaks, and sings and plays?
Are.
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