Run into whey! It stood upon his brow, Like a cold winter dew. Phi. Gentlemen, You have no suit to me? I am no minion: If you could well be flattered at a price And so well, that, if the king please, I find Dion. The king must please, Whilst we know what you are, and who you are, Phi. Friends, no more; Our ears may be corrupted: 'Tis an age We dare not trust our wills to. Do you love me? You had a virtuous gentlewoman called you father; Is she yet alive? Dion. Most honoured sir, she is: And, for the penance but of an idle dream, Has undertook a tedious pilgrimage. Lady. If you be called Philaster, 'tis to you. Phi. Kiss her fair hand, and say I will attend her. Dion. Do you know what you do? Phi. Yes; go to see a woman. Cle. But do you weigh the danger you are in? Phi. Danger in a sweet face! By Jupiter, I must not fear a woman. Thra. But are you sure it was the princess sent? It may be some foul train to catch your life. Phi. I do not think it, gentlemen; she's noble; Her eye may shoot me dead, or those true red And white friends in her face may steal my out: soul I am forgetful, and my woman's strength How looked he, when he told thee he would come? Are. And not a little fearful? Lady. Fear, madam? sure, he knows not what it is. Are. Ye are all of his faction; the whole court Is bold in praise of him; whilst I May live neglected, and do noble things, more Are. Of love? to whom? to you! Lady. Madam, I mean to you. Are. Of love to me? alas! thy ignorance Lets thee not see the crosses of our births. Nature, that loves not to be questioned Why she did this, or that, but has her ends, And knows she does well, never gave the world Two things so opposite, so contrary, As he and I am: If a bowl of blood, Drawn from this arm of mine, would poison thee, A draught of his would cure thee. Of love to me? Lady. Madam, I think I hear him. Are. Bring him in. Phi. Madam, your messenger Made me believe you wished to speak with me. Are. 'Tis true, Philaster; but the words are such I have to say, and do so ill beseem The mouth of woman, that I wish them said, And yet am loth to speak them. Have you known, That I have ought detracted from your worth? Have I in person wronged you? or have set My baser instruments, to throw disgrace Phi. Never, madam, you. Are. Why, then, should you, in such a public Injure a princess, and a scandal lay Foolish: But, for your fair and virtuous self, Are. Philaster, know, I must enjoy these kingdoms. Are. Both, or I die: By fate, I die, Philaster, If I not calmly may enjoy them both. Phi. I would do much to save that noble life: Yet would be loth to have posterity Find in our stories, that Philaster gave His right unto a sceptre, and a crown, To save a lady's longing. Are. Nay then, hear! I must and will have them, and more- Are. Or lose that little life the gods prepared, Are. Turn, then, away thy face. Phi. No, Are. Do. Phi. I can't endure it. Turn away my face? I never yet saw enemy, that looked So dreadfully, but that I thought myself As great a basilisk as he; or spake So horribly, but that I thought my tongue Bore thunder underneath, as much as his; Nor beast, that I could turn from: Shall I then Begin to fear sweet sounds? a lady's voice, Whom I do love? Say, you would have my life; Why, I will give it you; for it is to me A thing so loathed, and unto you, that ask, Of so poor use, that I will make no price: If you entreat, I will unmovedly hear. Are. Yet, for my sake, a little bend thy looks. Phi. I do. Are. Then know, I must have them, and thee. Phi. And me? Are. Thy love; without which, all the land, Discovered yet, will serve me for no use, But to be buried in. Phi. Is't possible? Are. With it, it were too little to bestow On thee. Now, though thy breath do strike me dead, (Which, know, it may) I have unript my breast. Phi. Madam, you are too full of noble thoughts, To lay a train for this contemned life, Which you may have for asking: To suspect Were base, where I deserve no ill. Love you, By all my hopes, I do above my life: VOL. I. spirit, Than this thy breath. But spend not hasty time Is mingled with it. Let us leave, Lest some unwelcome guest should fall betwixt us. Phi. 'Twill be ill I should abide here long. Are. 'Tis true; and worse You should come often. How shall we devise Phi. I have a boy, Sent by the gods, I hope, to this intent, read Though I do reverence, yet I hide me not; And shall a stranger prince have leave to brag Unto a foreign nation, that he made Philaster hide himself? Are. He cannot know it. Pha. You are gone: By Heaven, I'll fetch you back. Phi. You shall not need. Phu. What now? Phi. Know, Pharamond, Phi. Though it should sleep for ever to the I loath to brawl with such a blast as thou, world, Who art nought but a valiant voice: But, if Thou shalt provoke me further, men shall say "Thou wert," and not lament it. Pha. Do you slight My greatness so, and in the chamber of the prin cess? Enter PHILASTER and BELLARIO. ACT II. Phi. AND thou shalt find her honourable, boy, Full of regard unto thy tender youth, For thine own modesty; and, for my sake, Apter to give than thou wilt be to ask, Ay, or deserve. Bel. Sir, you did take me up, when I was nothing; And only yet am something, by being yours. You trusted me unknown; and that, which you were apt To construe a simple innocence in me, Hardened in lies and theft: Yet ventured you young, And bear'st a childish overflowing love Bel. Sir, if I have made A fault of ignorance, instruct my youth: Phi. Thy love doth plead so prettily to stay, That, trust me, I could weep to part with thee. me. Think so, and 'tis so. And, when time is full, With joy receive thee; as I live, I will. Bel. I am gone. But since I am to part with you, my lord, May sick men, if they have your wish, be well; Enter PHARAMOND. [Erit Phi. Pha. Why should these ladies stay so long? They must come this way: I know the queen employs them not; for the reverend mother sent me word, they would be all for the garden. If they should all prove honest now, I were in a fair taking. Here's one bolted. Enter GALATEA. Gal. Your grace! Pha. Shall I not be a trouble? Pha. Nay, nay, you are too quick. By this sweet hand Gal. You'll be forsworn, sir; 'tis but an old glove. If y you will talk at distance, I am for you: And then, I think, I shall have sense enough to answer all the weighty apothegms your royal blood shall manage. Pha. Dear lady, can you love? Gal. Dear, prince! how dear? I ne'er cost you a coach yet, nor put you to the dear repentance of a banquet. Here's no scarlet, sir, to blush the sin out it was given for. This wire mine own hair covers; and this face has been so far from being dear to any, that it ne'er cost penny painting: And, for the rest of my poor wardrobe, such as you see, it leaves no hand behind it, to make the jealous mercer's wife curse our good doings. Pha. You mistake me, lady. Gal. Lord, I do so: 'Would you, or I, could help it! Pha. Do ladies of this country use to give no more respect to men of my full being? Gal. Full being! I understand you not, unless your grace means growing to fatness; and then your only remedy (upon my knowledge, prince) is, in a morning, a cup of neat white-wine, brewed with carduus; then fast till supper; about eight you may eat; use exercise, and keep a sparrowhawk; you can shoot in a tiller: But, of all, your grace must fly phlebotomy, fresh pork, conger, and clarified whey: They are all dullers of the vital spirits. Pha. Lady, you talk of nothing all this while. Gal. 'Tis very true, sir; I talk of you. Pha. This is a crafty wench; I like her wit well; 'twill be rare to stir up a leaden appetite. She's a Danäe, and must be courted in a shower of gold. Madam, look here: All these, and more than Gal. What have you there, my lord? Gold! Now, as I live, 'tis fair gold! You would have silver for it, to play with the pages: You could not have taken me in a worse time; but, if you have present use, my lord, I'll send my man with silver, and keep your gold for you. Pha. Lady, lady! Gal. She's coming, sir, behind, will take white money. Yet, for all this I'll match you. [Exit Gal. behind the hangings. Pha. If there be but two such more in this kingdom, and near the court, we may even hang up our harps. Enter MEGRA. Here's another: If she be of the same last, the devil shall pluck her on. Many fair mornings, lady. Meg. As many mornings bring as many days, Fair, sweet, and hopeful to your grace. Pha. She gives good words yet; If your more serious business do not call you, Let me hold quarter with you; we'll talk an hour Out quickly. Meg. What would your grace talk of? Pha. Of some such pretty subject as yourself. I'll go no further than your eye, or lip; There's theme enough for one man for an age. Meg. Sir, they stand right, and my lips are yet Which those fair suns above, with their bright beams, Reflect upon and ripen. Sweetest beauty, Meg. Oh, delicate sweet prince! You have, in such neat poetry, gathered a kiss, That if I had but five lines of that number, Such pretty begging blanks, I should commend Your forehead, or your cheeks, and kiss you too. Pha. Do it in prose; you cannot miss it, madam. Meg. I shall, I shall. Pha. By my life, you shall not. But we lose time. Can you love? Meg. Love you, my lord? How would you have me love you? Has your grace seen the courtstar, Galatea? Pha. Out upon her! She's as cold of her favour as an apoplex: She sailed by but now. Meg. And how do you hold her wit, sir? Pha. I hold her wit? The strength of all the guard cannot hold it, if they were tied to it; she would blow them out of the kingdom. They talk of Jupiter; he is but a squib-cracker to her: Look well about you, and you may find a tongue-bolt. But speak, sweet lady, shall I be freely welcome? Meg. Whither? Pha. Make your own conditions, my purse shall seal them; and what you dare imagine you can want, I'll furnish you withal: Give two hours to your thoughts every morning about it. Come, I know you are bashful; speak in my ear, will you be mine? Keep this, and with it me: Soon I will visit you. Meg. My lord, my chamber's most unsafe; but when 'tis night, I'll find some means to slip into your lodging; till when Pha. Till when, this, and my heart go with thee! [Exeunt several ways. Enter GALATEA from behind the hangings. Gal. Oh, thou pernicious petticoat-prince! are these your virtues? Well, if I do not lay a train to blow your sport up, I am no woman: And, lady Dowsabel, I'll fit you for't. Enter ARETHUSA and a Lady. Are. Where's the boy? Lady. Within, madam. [Exit. Are. Gave you him gold to buy him cloaths? Lady. I did. Are. And has he done it? Lady. Yes, madam. Hadst thou a curst master, when thou went'st to school? Thou art not capable of other grief. Thou art deceived, boy. Does he speak of me, Bel. If it be love, To forget all respect of his own friends, Or killed, because it might have been your chance; Are. Oh, you're a cunning boy, and taught to lie, For your lord's credit; but thou know'st a lie, That bears this sound, is welcomer to me Than any truth, that says, he loves me not. Lead the way, boy. Do you attend me too. 'Tis thy lord's business hastes me thus. Away. [Exeunt. Enter DION, CLEREMONT, THRASILINE, MEGRA, and GALATEA. Dion. Come, ladies, shall we talk a round? As |