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Enter
King, Dion, Cleremont, and Thrasiline. [5.3]
King.
Gentlemen, who saw the Prince?
Cle.
So please you Sir, he's gone to see the City,
And the new Platform, with some
Gentlemen
Attending on him.
King. Is the Princess ready,
To bring her prisoner out?
Thra. She waits your Grace.
King.
Tell her we stay.
Di.
King, you may be deceiv'd yet:
The head you aim at cost more
setting on
Than to be lost so slightly:
If it must off
Like a wild overflow, that soops
before him
A golden Stack, and with it
shakes down Bridges,
Cracks the strong hearts of
Pines, whose Cable roots
Held out a thousand Storms,
a thousand Thunders,
And so made mightier, takes
whole Villages
Upon his back, and in that heat
of pride,
Charges strong Towns, Towers,
Castles, Palaces,
And layes them desolate: so
shall thy head,
Thy noble head, bury the lives
of thousands
That must bleed with thee like
a sacrifice,
In thy red ruines.
Enter
Phil. Are. and Bell. in a Robe and Garland.
King.
How now, what Mask is this?
Bell.
Right Royal Sir, I should
Sing you an Epithalamium of
these lovers,
But having lost my best ayres
with my fortunes,
And wanting a celestial Harp
to strike
This blessed union on; thus
in glad story
I give you all. These two fair
Cedar-branches,
The noblest of the Mountain,
where they grew
Straightest and tallest, under
whose still shades
The worthier beasts have made
their layers, and slept
Free from the Syrian
Star, and the fell Thunder-stroke,
Free from the Clouds, when they
were big with humour,
And delivered in thousand spouts,
their issues to the earth:
[end column one, page 36]
O there was none but silent
quiet there!
Till never pleas'd fortune shot
up shrubs,
Base under brambles to divorce
these branches;
And for a while they did so,
and did raign
Over the Mountain, and choakt
up his beauty
With Brakes, rude Thornes and
Thistles, till thy Sun
Scorcht them even to the roots,
and dried them there:
And now a gentle gale hath blown
again
That made these branches meet,
and twine together,
Never to be divided: The god
that sings
His holy numbers over marriage
beds,
Hath knit their noble hearts,
and here they stand
Your Children mighty King, and
I have done.
King.
How, how?
Are.
Sir, if you love it in plain truth,
For there is no Masking in't;
This Gentleman
The prisoner that you gave me
is become
My keeper, and through all the
bitter throws
Your jealousies and his ill
fate have wrought him,
Thus nobly hath he strangled,
and at length
Arriv'd here my dear Husband.
King.
Your dear Husband! call in
The Captain of the Cittadel;
There you shall keep
Your Wedding. I'le provide a
Mask shall make
Your Hymen turn his Saffron
into a sullen Coat,
And sing sad Requiems to your
departing souls:
Bloud shall put out your Torches,
and instead
Of gaudy flowers about your
wanton necks,
An Ax shall hang like a prodigious
Meteor
Ready to crop your loves sweets.
Hear you gods:
From this time do I shake all
title off,
Of Father to this woman, this
base woman,
And what there is of vengeance,
in a Lion
Cast amongst Dogs, or rob'd
of his dear young,
The same inforc't more terrible,
more mighty,
Expect from me.
Are. Sir,
By that little life I have left
to swear by,
There's nothing that can stir
me from my self.
What I have done, I have done
without repentance,
For death can be no Bug-bear
unto me,
So long as Pharamond
is not my headsman.
Di.
Sweet peace upon thy soul, thou worthy maid
When ere thou dyest; for this
time I'le excuse thee,
Or be thy Prologue.
Phi. Sir, let me speak next,
And let my dying words be better
with you
Than my dull living actions;
if you aime
At the dear life of this sweet
Innocent,
Y'are a Tyrant and a savage
Monster;
Your memory shall be as soul
behind you
As you are living, all your
better deeds
Shall be in water writ, but
this in Marble:
No Chronicle shall speak you,
though your own,
But for the shame of men. No
Monument
(Though high and big as Pelion)
shall be able
To cover this base murther;
make it rich
With Brass, with purest Gold,
and shining Jasper,
Like the Pyramids, lay on Epitaphs,
Such as make great men gods;
my little marble
(That only cloaths my ashes,
not my faults)
Shall far out shine it: And
for after issues
Think not so madly of the heavenly
wisdoms,
That they will give you more,
for your mad rage
To cut off, unless it be some
Snake, or something
Like your self, that in his
birth shall strangle you.
Remember, my Father, King; there
was a fault,
But I forgive it: let that sin
perswade you
To love this Lady. If you have
a soul,
Think, save her, and be saved,
for my self,
I have so long expected this
glad hour,
So languisht under you, and
daily withered,
That heaven knows it is my joy
to dye,
I find a recreation in't,
[end page 36, signature [F2v], catchword: Enter]
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.
[end column one, page 37]
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. |
| © Twilight
Pictures, March
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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