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Go
seek out some forgotten place to die. Exit
Bell.
Are.
Peace guide thee, th'ast overthrown me once,
Yet if I had another
Troy to lose,
Thou or another
villain with thy looks,
Might talk me out
of it, and send me naked,
My hair dishevel'd
through the fiery streets.
Enter
a Lady.
La.
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, let
me discover thee
Bathing, and turn
me to a fearful Hind,
That I may die pursu'd
by cruel Hounds,
And have my story
written in my wounds. [Exeunt.
Actus
Quartus. Scena
Prima.
Enter
King, Pharamond, Arethusa, Galatea, Megra,
Dion, Cleremont,
Thrasilin, and Attendants.
| K. |
W
|
Hat, are the
Hounds before, and all the woodmen?
Our horses
ready, and our bows bent? |
Di.
All Sir.
King.
Y'are cloudy Sir, come we have forgotten
Your venial trespass,
let not that sit heavy
Upon your spirit,
none dare utter it.
Di.
He looks like an old surfeited Stallion after his
leap
ing, dull as a Dormouse.
see how he sinks; the wench has
shot him between
wind and water, and I hope sprung a leak.
Thra.
He needs no teaching, he strikes sure enough, his
greatest fault is,
he Hunts too much in the Purlues, would
he would leave off
Poaching.
Di.
And for his horn, has left it at the Lodge where he
lay late, Oh, he's
a precious Lime-hound; turn him loose
upon the pursuit
of a Lady, and if he lose her, hang him
up i'th' slip. When
my Fox-bitch Beauty grows proud, I'le
borrow him.
King. Is your Boy turn'd
away?
Are.
You did command Sir, and I obey you.
King.
'Tis well done: Hark ye further.
Cle.
Is't possible this fellow should repent? Me thinks
that were not noble
in him: and yet he looks like a mortifi-
ed member, as if
he had a sick mans Salve in's mouth. If a
worse man had done
this fault now, some Physical Justice
or other, would
presently (without the help of an Almanack)
have opened the
obstructions of his Liver, and let him bloud
with a Dog whip.
Di.
See, see, how modestly your Lady looks, as if she
came from Churching
with her Neighbour; why, what a
Devil can a man
see in her face, but that she's honest?
Pha.
Troth no great matter to speak of, a foolish twink-
ling with the eye,
that spoils her Coat, but he must be a
cunning Herald that
finds it.
Di.
See how they Muster one another! O there's a Rank
Regiment where the
Devil carries the Colours, and his Dam
Drum major, now
the world and the flesh come behind with
the Carriage.
Cle.
Sure this Lady has a good turn done her against her
will. before she
was common talk, now none dare say, Can-
tharides can stir
her, her face looks like a Warrant, willing
and commanding all
Tongues, as they will answer it, to be
tied up and bolted
when this Lady means to let her self loose.
As I live she has
got her a goodly protection, and a gracious;
and may use her
body discreetly, for her healths sake, once
a week, excepting
Lent and Dog-days: Oh if they were to
be got for mony,
what a great sum would come out of the
City for these Licences?
King.
To horse, to horse, we lose the morning, Gentlemen.
[Exeunt.
Enter
two Woodmen. [4.2]
1
Wood. What, have you lodged the Deer? |
2
Wood. Yes, they are ready for the Bow.
1
Wood. Who shoots?
2
Wood. The Princess.
1
Wood. No she'l Hunt.
2
Wood. She'l take a Stand I say.
1
Wood. Who else?
2
Wood. Why the young stranger Prince.
1
Wood. He shall Shoot in a Stone-bow for me. I never
lov'd his beyond
sea-ship, since he forsook the Say, for pay
ing Ten shillings:
he was there at the fall of a Deer, and
would needs (out
of his mightiness) give Ten groats for the
Dowcers; marry the
Steward would have had the Velvet
head into the bargain,
to Turf his Hat withal: I think he
should love Venery,
he is an old Sir Tristram; for if you be
remembred, he forsook
the Stagg once, to strike a Rascal
Milking in a Medow,
and her he kill'd in the eye. Who
shoots else?
2 Wood. The Lady Galatea.
1
Wood. That's a good wench, and she would not chide
us for tumbling
of her women in the Brakes. She's liberal,
and by my Bow they
say she's honest, and whether that be
a fault, I have
nothing to do. There's all?
2
Wood. No, one more, Megra.
1
Wood. That's a firker I'faith boy; there's a wench
will
Ride her Haunces
as hard after a Kennel of Hounds, as a
Hunting-faddle;
and when she comes home, get 'em clapt,
and all is well
again. I have known her lose her self three
times in one Afternoon
(if the Woods had been answerable)
and it has been
work enough for one man to find her, and
he has sweat for
it. She Rides well, and she payes well.
Hark, let's go.
[Exeunt.
Enter
Philaster. [4.3]
Phi.
Oh, that I had been nourished in these woods
With Milk of Goats,
and Acorns, and not known
The right of Crowns,
nor the dissembling Trains
Of Womens looks;
but dig'd my self a Cave,
Where I, my Fire,
my Cattel, and my Bed
Might have been
shut together in one shed;
And then had taken
me some Mountain Girl,
Beaten with Winds,
chast as the hardened Rocks
Whereon she dwells;
that might have strewed my Bed
With leaves, and
Reeds, and with the Skins of beasts
Our Neighbours;
and have born at her big breasts (on
My large course
issue. This had been a life free from vexati
Enter
Bellario.
Bell.
Oh wicked men!
An innocent man
may walk safe among beasts,
Nothing assaults
me here. See, my griev'd Lord
Sits as his soul
were searching out a way,
To leave his body.
Pardon me that must
Break thy last commandment;
For I must speak;
You that are griev'd
can pity; hear my Lord.
Phi.
Is there a Creature yet so miserable,
That I can pity?
Bell.
Oh my Noble Lord,
View my strange
fortune, and bestow on me,
According to your
bounty (if my service
Can merit nothing)
so much as may serve
To keep that little
piece I hold of life
From cold and hunger.
Phi.
Is it thou? be gone:
Go sell those misbeseeming
Cloaths thou wear'st,
And feed thy self
with them.
Bell.
Alas! my Lord, I can get nothing for them:
The silly Country
people think 'tis Treason
To touch such gay
things
Phi.
Now by my life this is
Unkindly done, to
vex me with thy sight,
Th'art faln again
to thy dissembling trade:
How should'st thou
think to cozen me again?
Remains there yet
a plague untri'd for me?
Even so thou wept'st
and spok'st when first
I took thee up;
curse on the time. If thy
Commanding tears
can work on any other,
Use thy art,
I'le not betray it. Which way
Wilt
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| © Twilight
Pictures, April
2001. This text
is freely available for educational, non-profit uses only. Please
report any errors or suggestions to
Drew Whitehead. |
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