Wilt
thou take, that I may shun thee;
For thine eyes are
poyson to mine; and I
Am loth to grow
in rage. This way, or that way?
Bell.
Any will serve. But I will chuse to have
That path in chase
that leads unto my grave.
Exeunt Phil. and Bell. severally.
Enter
Dion and the Woodmen. [4.4]
Di.
This is the strangest sudden change! You Woodman.
1
Wood. My Lord Dion.
Di.
Saw you a Lady come this way on a Sable horse stub
bed with stars of
white?
2
Wood. Was she not young and tall?
Di.
Yes; Rode she to the wood, or to the plain?
2
Wood. Faith my Lord we saw none. [Exeunt
Wood.
Enter
Cleremont.
Di.
Pox of your questions then. What, is she found?
Cle.
Nor will be I think.
Di.
Let him seek his Daughter himself; she cannot stray
about a little necessary
natural business, but the whole
Court must be in
Arms; when she has done, we shall have
peace.
Cle.
There's already a thousand fatherless tales amongst
us; some say her
Horse run away with her; some a Wolf
pursued her; others,
it was a plot to kill her; and that
Armed men were seen
in the Wood: but questionless, she
rode away willingly.
Enter
King, and Thrasiline.
King.
Where is she? Cle.
Sir, I cannot tell.
King.
How is that? Answer me so again.
Cle.
Sir, shall I lie?
King.
Yes, lie and damn, rather than tell me that;
I say again, where
is she? Mutter not;
Sir, speak you where
is she? Di.
Sir, I do not know.
King.
Speak that again so boldly, and by Heaven
It is thy last.
You fellows answer me,
Where is she? Mark
me all, I am your King.
I wish to see my
Daughter, shew her me;
I do command you
all, as you are subjects,
To shew her me,
what am I not your King?
If I, then am I
not to be obeyed?
Di.
Yes, if you command things possible and honest.
King.
Things possible and honest! Hear me, thou,
Thou Traytor, that
darest confine thy King to things
Possible and honest,
shew her me,
Or let me perish,
if I cover not all Cicily with bloud.
Di.
Indeed I cannot, unless you tell me where she is.
King.
You have betray'd me, y'have, let me lose
The Jewel of my
life, go; bring her me,
And set her before
me; 'tis the King
Will have it so,
whose breath can still the winds,
Uncloud the Sun,
charm down the swelling Sea,
And stop the Flouds
of Heaven; speak, can it not?
Di.
No. King.
No, cannot the breath of Kings do this?
Di.
No; nor smell sweet it self, if once the Lungs
Be but corrupted.
King.
Is it so? Take heed.
Di.
Sir, take you heed; how you dare the powers
That must be just.
King.
Alas! what are we Kings?
Why do you gods
place us above the rest;
To be serv'd, flatter'd,
and ador'd till we
Believe we hold
within our hands your Thunder,
And when we come
to try the power we have,
There's not a leaf
shakes at our threatnings.
I have sin'd 'tis
true, and here stand to be punish'd;
Yet would not thus
be punish'd; let me chuse
My way, and lay
it on.
Di.
He Articles with the gods; would some body would
draw bonds, for
the performance of Covenants betwixt
them.
Enter
Pha. Galatea, and Megra.
King.
What, is she found?
Pha.
No, we have ta'ne her Horse. |
He
gallopt empty by: there's some Treason;
You Galatea
rode with her into the wood; why left you her?
Gal.
She did command me.
King.
Command! you should not.
Gal.
'Twould ill become my Fortunes and my Birth
To disobey the Daughter
of my King.
King.
Y'are all cunning to obey us for our hurt,
But I will have
her. Pha.
If I have her not,
By this hand there
shall be no more Cicily.
Di.
What will he carry it to Spain in's pocket?
Pha.
I will not leave one man alive, but the King,
A Cook and a Taylor.
Di.
Yet you may do well to spare your Ladies Bed fellow,
and her you may
keep for a Spawner.
King.
I see the injuries I have done must be reveng'd.
Di.
Sir, this is not the way to find her out.
King.
Run all, disperse your selves: the man that finds
her,
Or (if she be kill'd)
the Traytor; I'le may him great.
["may"
underlined and "make" written in margin]
Di.
I know some would give five thousand pounds to find
Pha.
Come let us seek.
(her.
King.
Each man a several way, here I my self.
Di.
Come Gentlemen we here.
Cle.
Lady you must go search too.
Meg.
I had rather be search'd my self. [Exeunt
omnes.
Enter
Arethusa. [4.5]
Are.
Where am I now? Feet find me out a way,
Without the counsel
of my troubled head,
I'le follow you
boldly about these woods,
O're mountains,
thorow brambles, pits, and flouds:
Heaven I hope will
ease me. I am sick.
Enter
Bellario.
Bell.
Yonder's my Lady; Heaven knows I want nothing;
Because I do not
wish to live, yet I
Will try her Charity.
O hear, you that have plenty,
From that flowing
store, drop some on dry ground; see,
The lively red is
gone to guard her heart;
I fear she faints.
Madam look up, she breaths not;
Open once more those
rosie twins, and send
Unto my Lord, your
latest farewell; Oh, she stirs:
How is it Madam?
Speak comfort.
Are.
'Tis not gently done,
To put me in a miserable
life,
And hold me there,
I pray thee let me go,
I shall do best
without thee; I am well.
Enter
Philaster.
Phil.
I am to blame to be so much in rage,
I'le tell her coolely,
when and where I heard
This killing truth
I will be temperate
In speaking, and
as just in hearing.
Oh monstrous! Tempt
me not ye gods, good gods
Tempt not a frail
man, what's he, that has a heart
But he must ease
it here?
Bell.
My Lord, help the Princess.
Are.
I am well, forbear.
Phi.
Let me love lightning, let me be embrac'd
And kist by Scorpions,
or adore the eyes
Of Basilisks, rather
that trust to tongues,
And shrink these
veins up; stick me here a stone
Lasting to ages
in the memory
Of this damn'd act.
Hear me you wicked ones,
You have put the
hills on sire into this breast,
Not to be quench'd
with tears, for which may guilt
Sit on your bosoms;
at your meals, and beds,
Despair await you:
what, before my face?
Poyson of Aspes
between your lips; Diseases
Be your best issues,
Nature make a Curse
And throw it on
you. Are.
Dear Philaster, leave
To be enrag'd,
and hear me. Phi.
I have done,
Forgive my passion,
not the calm'd sea,
When Æolus
locks up his windy brood,
Is less disturb'd
than I, I'le make you know it.
F
Dear
|
