Enter
a Messenger.
Mess.
Where's 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 the Lord
Philaster. Di.
Oh brave followers;
Mutiny, my fine
dear Country-men, mutiny,
Now my brave valiant
foremen, shew your weapons
In honour of your
Mistresses.
Enter
another Messenger.
Mess.
Arm, arm, arm.
King.
A thousand devils take 'em.
Di.
A thousand blessings on 'em.
Mess.
Arm O King, the City is in mutiny,
Led by an old Gray
Ruffin, who comes on
In rescue of the
Lord Philaster. [Exit
with Are. Phi. Bell.
King.
Away to the Cittadel, I'le see them safe,
And then cope with
these Burgers: Let the Guard
And all the Gentlemen
give strong attendance. [Ex.
King.
[Manent Dion,
Cleremont, Thrasiline.
Cle.
The City up! this was above our wishes.
Di.
I and the Marriage too; by my life,
This noble Lady
has deceiv'd us all, a plague upon my self;
a thousand plagues,
for having such unworthy thoughts of
her dear honour:
O I could beat my self, or do you beat me
and I'le beat you,
for we had all one thought.
Cle.
No, no, 'twill but lose time.
Di.
You say true, are your swords sharp? Well my dear
Country-men, what
ye lack, if you continue and fall not
back upon the first
broken shin, I'le have you chronicled,
and chronicled,
and cut and chronicled and all to be prais'd,
and sung in Sonnets,
and bath'd in new brave Ballads, that
all tongues shall
troule you in Sæcula Sæculorum my kind
Can carriers.
Thra.
What if a toy take 'em i'th' heels now, and they
run all away, and
cry the Devil take the hindmost?
Di.
Then the same Devil take the foremost too, and
sowce him for his
breakfast; if they all prove Cowards, my
curses fly amongst
them and be speeding. May they have
Murreins raign to
keep the Gentlemen at home unbound in
easie freez: May
the Moths branch their Velvets, and their
Silks only be worn
before sore eyes. May their false lights
undo 'em, and discover
presses, holes, stains, and oldness
in their Stuffs,
and make them shop-rid: May they keep
Whores and Horses,
and break; and live mued 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
goarish Latine they
write in their bonds, and may they
write that false,
and lose their debts.
Enter
the King.
King.
Now the vengeance of all the gods confound them;
how they swarm together!
what a hum they raise; Devils
choak your wilde
throats; If a man had need to use their
valours, he must
pay a Brokage for it, and then bring 'em
on, they will fight
like sheep. 'Tis Philaster, none but Phi-
laster 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 courtesie you can, commend me to
him. Oh my wits,
my wits!
[Exit
Cle.
Di.
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'le thank you;
and send you Brawn and Bacon, and
soil you every long
vacation a brace of foremen, that at Mi-
chaelmas shall
come up fat and kicking.
King.
What they will do with this poor Prince, the gods
know, and I fear.
Di.
Why Sir: they'l flea him, and make Church Buck-
ets on's skin to
squench rebellion, then clap a rivet in's
sconce, and hang
him up for a sign. |
Enter
Cleremont with Philaster.
King.
O worthy Sir forgive me, do not make
Your miseries and
my faults meet together,
To bring a greater
danger. Be your self,
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, and 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,
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'le 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 your peace,
Or never bring my
self back.
King.
All the gods go with thee.
[Exeunt Omnes.
Enter
an old Captain and Citizens with Pharamond. [5.4]
Cap.
Come my brave Mirmidons let's fall on, let our caps
Swarm my boys, and
you nimble tongues forget your mothers
Gibberish, of what
do you lack, and set your mouths
Up Children, till
your Pallats fall frighted hail a
Fathom, past the
cure of Bay-salt and gross Pepper.
And then cry Philaster,
brave Philaster,
Let Philaster
be deeper in request, my ding dongs,
My pairs of dear
Indentures, King of Clubs,
Than your cold water
Chamblets or your paintings
Spitted with Copper;
let not your hasty Silks,
Or your branch'd
Cloth of Bodkin, or your Tishues,
Dearly belov'd of
spiced Cake and Custard,
Your Robin-hoods
scarlets and Johns, tie your affections
In darkness to your
shops; no, dainty Duckers,
Up with your three
pil'd spirits, your wrought valours.
And let your un-cut
Coller make the King feel
The measure of your
mightiness Philaster.
Cry my Rose nobles,
cry. All.
Philaster, Philaster.
Cap.
How do you like this my Lord Prince, these are mad
boys, I tell you,
these are things that will not strike their
top-sayles to a
Foist. And let a man of war, an Argosie
hull and cry Cockles.
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 talk
No more such Bugs-words,
or that soldred Crown
Shall be scratch'd
with a Musket: Dear Prince Pippen,
Down with your noble
bloud; or as I live,
I'le have you codled:
let him lose 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 it,
And with this swashing
blow, do you swear Prince;
I could hulk your
Grace, and hang you up cross leg'd,
Like a Hare at a
Poulters, and do this with this wiper.
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.
Capt.
He would have weapons would he? give him a
Broad-side my brave
boyes with your pikes, branch me his
skin in Flowers
like a Satin, and between every Flower a
mortal cut, your
Royalty shall ravel, jag him Gentlemen, I'le
have him cut
to the kell, then down the seames, oh for a whip
To make him Galoone-Laces,
I'le have a Coach-whip.
Phi.
O spare me Gentlemen.
Cap.
Hold, hold, the man begins to fear and know himself
He
|
