Philaster - 2nd Folio Edition (1679)

Enter Arethusa and a Lady. [2.3]

Are. Where's the boy? La. Within Madam.

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    Are. Gave you him gold to buy him cloaths?
    La. I did.     Are. And has he don't?
    La. Yes Madam.
    Are. 'Tis a pretty sad talking boy, is it not?
Askt you his name?     La. No Madam.

    Enter Galatea.

    Are. O you are welcome, what good news?
    Gal. As good as any one can tell your Grace,
That saies she hath done that you would have wish'd.
    Are. Hast thou discovered?

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    Gal. I have strained a point of modesty for you.
    Are. I prethee how?
    Gal. In listning after bawdery; I see, let a Lady live ne
ver so modestly, she shall be sure to find a lawful time, to
harken after bawdery; your Prince, brave Pharamond, was
so hot on't.     Are. With whom?           (place.
    Gal. Why, with the Lady I suspect: I can tell the time and
    Are. O when, and where?
    Gal. To night, his Lodging.
    Are. Run thy self into the presence, mingle there again

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With other Ladies, leave the rest to me:
If destiny (to whom we dare not say,
Why thou didst this) have not decreed it so
In lasting leaves (whose smallest Characters
Were never altered:) yet, this match shall break.
Where's the boy?     La. Here Madam.

    Enter Bellario.

    Are. Sir, you are sad to change your service, is't not so?
    Bell. Madam, I have not chang'd; I wait on you,
To do him service.     Are. Thou disclaim'st in me;

[end page 26, signature E1^v, catchword: Tell]

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Tell me thy name.     Bell.     Bellario.
    Are. Thou canst sing, and play?
    Bell. If grief will give me leave, Madam, I can.
    Are. Alas! what kind of grief can thy years know?
Hadst thou a curst master, when thou went'st to School?
Thou art not capable of other grief;
Thy brows and cheeks are smooth as waters be,
When no dreath troubles them: believe me boy,
Care seeks out wrinkled brows, and hollow eyes,
And builds himself caves to abide in them.

800

Come Sir, tell me truly, does your Lord love me?
    Bell. Love Madam? I know not what it is.
    Are. Canst thou know grief, and never yet knew'st love?
Thou art deceiv'd boy, does he speak of me
As if he wish'd me well?     Bell. If it be love,
To forget all respect of his own friends,
In thinking of your face; if it be love
To sit cross arm'd and sigh away the day,
Mingled with starts, crying your name as loud
And hastily, as men i'the streets do fire:

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If it be love to weep himself away,
When he but hears of any Lady dead,
Or kill'd, because it might have been your chance;
If when he goes to rest (which will not be)
'Twixt every prayer he saies, to name you once
As others drop a bead, be to be in love;
Then Madam, I dare swear he loves you.
Are. O y'are a cunning boy, and taught to lie,
For your Lords credit; but thou knowest, a lie,
That bears this sound, is welcomer to me,

820

Than any truth that saies he loves me not.
Lead the way Boy: Do you attend me too;
'Tis thy Lords business hasts me thus; Away. [Exeunt.