Are. The king. Phi. Oh, my fortune! Then 'tis no idle jealousy. Let him go. Are. Oh, cruel! are you hard-hearted too? Who shall now tell you, how much I loved you? Who shall swear it to you, and weep the tears I send? Who shall now bring you letters, rings, bracelets? Lose his health in service? Wake tedious nights Under a woman's falsehood? Oh, that boy, Are. Nay, then I am betrayed: I feel the plot cast for my overthrow. Phi. Now you may take that little right I have There dig a cave, and preach to birds and beasts, What woman is, and help to save them from you: How Heaven is in your eyes, but, in your hearts, More hell than hell has: How your tongues, like scorpions, Both heal and poison: How your thoughts are Woven With thousand changes in one subtle web, [Exit Phi. Are. Be merciful, ye gods, and strike me dead! Are. Oh, never, never such a boy again, as my What way have I deserved this? Make my breast Bellario! Phi. 'Tis but your fond affection. Are. With thee, my boy, farewell for ever All secrecy in servants! Farewell faith! And all desire to do well for itself! Let all, that shall succeed thee for thy wrongs, Sell and betray chaste love! Phi. And all this passion for a boy? Are. He was your boy, and you put him to me, And the loss of such must have a mourning for. Phi. Oh, thou forgetful woman! Are. How, my lord? Phi. False Arethusa ! Hast thou a medicine to restore my wits, Are. Do what, sir? Would you sleep? Transparent as pure crystal, that the world, And guiltily, methinks, that boy looks now! Fooled by her passion; but the conquest is Let my command force thee to that, which shame Why, thou wouldst hide thee under heaps of hills, Bel. Oh, what god, Angry with men, hath sent this strange disease Of Women's looks; but digged myself a cave, Where I, my fire, my cattle, and my bed,, Might have been shut together in one shed; And then had taken me some mountain girl, King. WHAT, are the hounds before, and all Beaten with winds, chaste as the hardened rocks, the woodmen; 2 Wood. Why, the young stranger prince. 1 Wood. He shall shoot in a stone bow for me. I never loved his beyond-sea-ship, since he forsook the say, for paying ten shillings: He was there at the fall of a deer, and would needs (out of his mightiness) give ten groats for the dowcets; marry, the steward would have the velvet-head into the bargain, to tuft his hat withal. Who shoots else? 2 Wood. The lady Galatea. 1 Wood. She's liberal, and, by my bow, they say, she's honest; and whether that be a fault, I have nothing to do. There's all? 2 Wood. No, one more; Megra. 1 Wood. That's a firker, i'faith, boy. She rides well, and she pays well. Hark! let's go. [Exeunt. Enter PHILASTER. Phi. Oh, that I had been nourished in these woods, With milk of goats, and acorns, and not known The right of crowns, nor the dissembling trains Whereon she dwells; that might have strewed my bed With leaves, and reeds, and with the skins of An innocent may walk safe among beasts ; Nothing assaults me here. See, my grieved lord Sits as his soul were searching out a way To leave his body. Pardon me, that must Bel. Oh, my noble lord! View my strange fortune; and bestow on me Phi. Is it thou? Begone! Bel. Alas! my lord, I can get nothing for The silly country people think 'tis treason Phi. Now, by my life, this is I took thee up: Curse on the time! If thy For thine eyes are poison to mine; and I Enter DION and the Woodmen. Dion. This is the strangest sudden chance! You, Woodman! 1 Wood. My lord Dion! Dion. Saw you a lady come this way, on a sa ble horse studded with stars of white? 2 Wood. Was she not young and tall? That must be just. King. Alas! what are we kings? Why do you, gods, place us above the rest, Dion. Yes. Rode she to the wood or to the To be served, flattered, and adored, till we plain? 2 Wood. Faith, my lord, we saw none. [Exeunt Wood. Enter CLEREMONT. Believe we hold within our hands your thunder; Dion. Pox of your questions then! What, is Yet would not thus be punished. Let me chuse she found? Cle. Nor will be, I think. Dion. Let him seek his daughter himself. 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? King. Yes, lie and damn, rather than tell me My way, and lay it on. Dion. He articles with the gods : 'Would somebody would draw bonds, for the performance of covenants betwixt them! Enter PHARAMOND, GALATEA, and MEGRA. Pha. No; we have ta'en her horse: 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. You're all cunning to obey us, for our hurt; But I will have her. Pha. If I have her not, King. Speak that again so boldly, and by By this hand, there shall be no more Sicily. Heaven, It is thy last. You, fellows, answer me; Dion. Yes, if you command things possible and King. Things possible and honest? Hear me, thou, Thou traitor! that dar'st confine thy king to things Possible and honest; shew her me, Or, let me perish, if I cover not All Sicily with blood! Dion. Indeed I cannot, unless you tell me where she is. King. You have betrayed me; have let me lose The jewel of my life: Go, bring her me, And set her here, before me: 'Tis the king Will have it so; whose breath can still the winds, I'll follow you, boldly, about these woods, O'er mountains, thorough brambles, pits, floods. Heaven, I hope, will ease me. I am sick. Enter BELLARIO. Nourish ambitious thoughts, when I am dead: Bel. Yonder's my lady: Heaven knows I want nothing, Because I do not wish to live; yet I Will try her charity. Oh, hear, you that have From that flowing store, drop some on dry ground. The lively red is gone to guard her heart! I fear she faints. Madam, look up! She breathes not. Open once more those rosy twins, and send Are. Tis not gently done, And hold me there: I prithee, let me go; Enter PHILASter. Phi. I am to blame to be so much in rage: Oh, monstrous! Tempt me not, ye gods! good Tempt not a frail man! What's he, that has heart, But he must ease it here? Bel. My lord, help the princess. Are. I am well: Forbear. Bel. Alas, my lord, your pulse keeps madman's time, So does your tongue. Phi. You will not kill me, then? Bel. Not for a world. Phi. I blame not thee, Bellario: Thou hast done but that, which gods Would have transformed themselves to do. Be gone; Leave me without reply; this is the last Of all our meeting. Kill me with this sword; : Be wise, or worse will follow: We are two Earth cannot bear at once. Resolve to do, or suffer. a Phi. Let me love lightning, let me be embraced Of this damned act! Hear me, you wicked ones! Sit on your bosoms! at your meals, and beds, Are. Dear Philaster, leave Phi. I have done; Forgive my passion. Not the calmed sea, Are. If my fortune be so good to let me fall Are. Shew me then the way. My feeble hand, you, that have power to do it, Are. I am prepared. Enter a country fellow. Coun. I'll see the king, if he be in the forest; I have hunted him these two hours; if I should come home and not see him, my sisters would laugh at me. I can see nothing but people better horsed than myself, that out-ride me; I can hear nothing but shouting. These kings had need of good brains; this whooping is able to put a mean man out of his wits. There's a courtier with his sword drawn; by this hand, upon a woman, I think. Phi. Are you at peace? Are. With heaven and earth. Phi. May they divide thy soul and body! a craven, I warrant thee: Thou would'st be loth Phi. Leave us, good friend. Are. What ill-bred man art thou, to intrude thyself Upon our private sports, our recreations? Coun. God uds, I understand you not; but, I Is less disturbed than I: I'll make you know it. know, the rogue has hurt you. Dear Arethusa, do but take this sword, Phi. Pursue thy own affairs: It will be ill Coun. I know not your rhetorick; but I can lay it on, Phi. Slave, take what thou deservest. Phi. I hear the tread of people. I am hurt: For ever, if thou wilt. You sweet ones all, Phi. I have done ill; my conscience calls me false, Enter PHARAMOND, DION, CLEREMONT, THRA- | To strike at her, that would not strike at me. SILINE, and Woodmen. Pha. What art thou? Coun. Almost killed I am for a foolish woman; Coun. Then I have seen something yet. Coun. I told you, a rogue; I ne'er saw him Pha. Madam, who did it? Are. Some dishonest wretch; Alas! I know him not, and do forgive him. Coun. He's hurt too; he cannot go far; I made my father's old fox fly about his ears. Pha. How will you have me kill him? 'Tis some distracted fellow. Pha. By this hand, I'll leave ne'er a piece of him bigger than a nut, And bring him all in Are. Nay, good sir, my hat. If you do take him, bring him quick to me, And I will study for a punishment, Great as his fault. Pha. I will. Are. But swear. Pha. By all my love, I will. Woodmen, conduct the princess to the king, and bear that wounded fellow to dressing. Come, gentlemen, we'll follow the chase close. When I did fight, methought I heard her pray She will conceal, who hurt her. He has wounds, wounds Upon this sleeping boy! I have none, I think, Are mortal, nor would I lay greater on thee. [Wounds him. Bel. Oh! Death, I hope, is come: Blest be that hand! It meant me well. Again, for pity's sake! Phi. I have caught myself: [Phi. falls. The loss of blood hath stayed my flight. Here, here, Is he that struck thee: Take thy full revenge; Bel. Fly, fly, my lord, and save yourself. 'Wouldst thou I should be safe? Bel. Else were it vain For me to live. These little wounds I have Phi. Art thou true to me? Bel. Or let me perish loathed! Come, my good lord, Creep in among those bushes: Who does know, that the gods may save your much-loved breath? [Exeunt Are. Pha. Dion, Cle. Thra, and 1 Wood-But man. Coun. I pray you, friend, let me see the king. 2 Wood. That you shall, and receive thanks. Coun. If I get clear with this, I'll go to see no more gay sights. [Exeunt. 'Enter BELLARIO. Bel. A heaviness near death sits on my brow, And I must sleep. Bear me, thou gentle bank, Phi. Then I shall die for grief, if not for this, That I have wounded thee. What wilt thou do? Bel. Shift for myself well. Peace! I hear them come. Within. Follow, follow, follow! that way they went. Bel. With my own wounds I'll bloody my own sword. |