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Actus Tertius.
Scena Prima.
Enter
Cle Di. and Thra.
| Cle. |
N |
AY doubtless
'tis true.
Di
I, and 'tis the gods |
That rais'd this Punishment
to scourge the King
With his own issue: Is it not
a shame
For us, that should write noble
in the land;
For us, that should be freemen,
to behold
A man, that is the bravery of
his age,
Philaster,
prest down from his Royal right,
By this regardless King; and
only look,
And see the Scepter ready to
be cast
Into the hands of that lascivious
Lady,
That lives in lust with a smooth
boy, now to be
Married to yon strange Prince,
who, but that people
Please to let him be a Prince,
is born a slave,
In that which should be his
most noble part,
His mind?
Thra. That man that would not stir
with you,
To aid Philaster, let
the gods forget,
That such a Creature walks upon
the earth.
Cle.
Philaster is too backward in't
himself;
The Gentry do await it, and
the people
Against their nature are all
bent for him,
And like a field of standing
Corn, that's mov'd
With a stiff gale, their heads
bow all one way.
Di.
The only cause that draws Philaster back
From this attempt, is the fair
Princess love,
Which he admires and we can
now confute.
Thra.
Perhaps he'l not believe it.
Di.
Why Gentlemen, 'tis without question so.
Cle.
I 'tis past speech, she lives dishonestly.
But how shall we, if he be curious,
work
Upon his faith?
Thra.
We all are satisfied within our selves
Di.
Since it is true, and tends to his own good,
I'le make this new report to
be my knowledge,
I'le say I know it, nay, I'le
swear I saw it.
Cle.
It will be best. Thra.
'Twill move him.
Enter
Philaster.
Di.
Here he comes. Good morrow to your honour,
We have spent some time in seeking
you.
Phi.
My worthy friends,
You that can keep your memories
to know
[end page 28, signature [E2v], catchword: Your]
Your friend in miseries, and
cannot frown
On men disgrac'd for vertue:
A good day (tion?
Attend you all. What service
may I do worthy your accepta-
Di.
My good Lord,
We come to urge that vertue
which we know
Lives in your breast, forth,
rise, and make a head,
The Nobles, and the people are
all dull'd
With this usurping King: and
not a man
That ever heard the word, or
knew such a thing
As vertue, but will second your
attempts.
Phi.
How honourable is this love in you
To me that have deserv'd none?
Know my friends
(You that were born to shame
your poor Philaster,
With too much courtesie) I could
afford
To melt my self in thanks; but
my designs
Are not yet ripe, suffice it,
that ere long (would
I shall imploy your loves: but
yet the time is short of what I
Di.
The time is fuller Sir, than you expect;
That which hereafter will not
perhaps be reach'd
By violence, may now be caught;
As for the King,
You know the people have long
hated him;
But now the Princess, whom they
lov'd.
Phi.
Why, what of her?
Di.
Is loath'd as much as he.
Phi.
By what strange means?
Di.
She's known a Whore. Phi.
Thou lyest.
Di.
My Lord----
Phi.
Thou lyest, [Offers
to draw and is held.
And thou shalt feel it; I had
thought thy mind
Had been of honour; thus to
rob a Lady
Of her good name, is an infectious
sin,
Not to be pardon'd; be it false
as hell,
'Twill never be redeem'd, if
it be sown
Amongst the people, fruitful
to increase
All evil they shall hear. Let
me alone,
That I may cut off falshood,
whilst it springs.
Set hills on hills betwixt me
and the man
That utters this, and I will
scale them all,
And from the utmost top fall
on his neck,
Like Thunder from a Cloud.
Di. This is most strange;
Sure he does love her.
Phi. I do love fair truth:
She is my Mistress, and who
injures her,
Draws vengeance from me Sirs,
let go my arms.
Thra.
Nay, good my Lord be patient.
Cle.
Sir, remember this is your honour'd friend,
That comes to do his service,
and will shew you
Why he utter'd this.
Phi. I ask you pardon Sir,
My zeal to truth made me unmannerly:
Should I have heard dishonour
spoke of you,
Behind your back untruly, I
had been
As much distemper'd, and enrag'd
as now.
Di.
But this my Lord is truth.
Phi.
O say not so, good Sir forbear to say so,
'Tis the truth that all womenkind
is false;
Urge it no more, it is impossible;
Why should you think the Princess
light?
Di.
Why, she was taken at it.
Phi.
'Tis false, O Heaven 'tis false: it cannot be,
Can it? Speak Gentlemen, for
love of truth speak;
Is't possible? can women all
be damn'd?
Di.
Why no, my Lord.
Phi.
Why then it cannot be.
Di.
And she was taken with her boy.
Phi.
What boy? Di.
A Page, a boy that serves her.
Phi.
Oh good gods, a little boy?
Di.
I, know you him my Lord?
Phi.
Hell and sin know him? Sir, you are deceiv'd;
I'le reason it a little coldly
with you;
If she were lustful, would she
take a boy,
That knows not yet desire? she
would have one
Should meet her thoughts and
knows the sin he acts,
Which is the great delight of
wickedness;
You are abus'd, and so is she,
and I.
Di.
How you my Lord?
[end column one, page 29]
Phi.
Why all the world's abus'd
In an unjust report.
Di. Oh noble Sir your vertues
Cannot look into the subtil
thoughts of woman.
In short my Lord, I took them:
I my self.
Phi.
Now all the Devils thou didst flie from my rage,
Would thou hadst ta'ne devils
ingendring plagues
When thou didst take them, hide
thee from my eyes,
Would thou hadst taken Thunder
on thy breast,
When thou didst take them, or
been strucken dumb
For ever: that this foul deed
might have slept in silence.
Thra.
Have you known him so ill temper'd?
Cle.
Never before.
Phi.
The winds that are let loose,
From the four several corners
of the earth,
And spread themselves all over
sea and land,
Kiss not a chaste one. What
friend bears a sword
To run me through?
Di.
Why, my Lord, are you so mov'd at this?
Phi.
When any falls from vertue I am distract,
I have an interest in't.
Di.
But good my Lord recal your self,
And think what's best to be
done.
Phi.
I thank you I will do it;
Please you to leave me, I'le
consider of it:
Tomorrow I will find your lodging
forth,
And give you answer
The readiest way.
Di. All the gods direct you
Thra.
He was extream impatient
Cle.
It was his vertue and his noble mind.
[Exeunt
Di Cle and Thra
Phi.
I had forgot to ask him where he took them,
I'le follow him. O that I had
a sea
Within my breast, to quench
the fire I feel;
More circumstances will but
fan this sire;
It more afflicts me now, to
know by whom
This deed is done, than simply
that 'tis done:
And he that tells me this is
honourable,
As far from lies, as she is
far from truth.
O that like beasts, we could
not grieve our selves,
With that we see not, Bulls
and Rams will fight,
To keep their Females standing
in their sight,
But take 'em from them, and
you take at once
Their spleens away; and they
will fall again
Unto their Pastures, growing
fresh and fat,
And taste the waters of the
springs as sweet,
As 'twas before, finding no
start in sleep.
But miserable man; See, see
you gods,
Enter
Bellario.
He walks still; and the face
you let him wear
When he was innocent is still
the same,
Not blasted; is this justice?
Do you mean
To intrap mortality, that you
allow
Treason so smooth a brow? I
cannot now
Think he is guilty.
Bell. Health to you my Lord,
The Princess doth commend her
love, her life,
And this unto you.
Phi. Oh Bellario,
Now I perceive she loves me,
she does shew it
In loving thee my boy, she has
made thee brave.
Bell.
My Lord she has attired me past my wish,
Past my desert, more fit for
her attendant,
Though far unfit for me, who
do attend.
Phi.
Thou art grown courtly boy. O let all women
That love black deeds, learn
to dissemble here,
Here, by this paper she does
write to me,
As if her heart were Mines of
Adamant
To all the world besides, but
unto me,
A maiden snow that melted with
my looks.
Tell me my boy how doth the
Princess use thee?
For I shall guess her love to
me by that
Bell.
Scarce like her servant, but as if I were
Something allied to her; or
had preserv'd
Her life three times by my fidelity.
As mothers sond do use their
only sons;
[end page 29, signature [E3], catchword: As]
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
[end column one, page 30]
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. |
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Pictures, March
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