Pha. Good gods, consider me! I shall be tortured.

1 Cit. Captain, I'll give you the trimmings of your two-hand sword,

And let me have his skin to make false scabbards.
2 Cit. He has no horns, sir, has he?
Cap. No, sir, he's a pollard. What wouldst
With horns?

[thou do 1 Cit. Oh, if he had, I would have made Rare hafts and whistles of 'em ; but his shin-bones, If they be sound, shall serve me.

Is it peace,

Thou Mars of men? is the king sociable,
And bids thee live? art thou above thy foemen,
And free as Phoebus? Speak. If not, this stand
Of royal blood shall be abroach, a-tilt,
And run even to the lees of honour.

Phi. Hold, and be satisfied; I am myself;
Free as my thoughts are: By the gods, I am.
Cap. Art thou the dainty darling of the king?
Art thou the Hylas to our Hercules?
Do the lords bow, and the regarded scarlets
Kiss their gumm'd golls, and cry,
66 we are your
servants?"

Is the court navigable, and the presence stuck With flags of friendship? If not, we are thy castle, And this man sleeps.

Phi. I am what I do desire to be, your friend; I am what I was born to be, your prince.

Pha. Sir, there is some humanity in you; You have a noble soul; forget my name, And know my misery: Set me safe aboard From these wild cannibals, and, as I live, I'll quit this land for ever. There is nothing, Perpetual 'prisonment, cold, hunger, sickness Of all sorts, of all dangers, and all together, The worst company of the worst men, madness, age, To be as many creatures as a woman, And do as all they do; nay, to despair; But I would rather make it a new nature, And live with all those, than endure one hour Amongst these wild dogs.

Phi. I do pity you.-Friends, discharge your Deliver me the prince: I'll warrant you, [fears; I shall be old enough to find my safety.

3 Cit. Good sir, take heed he does not hurt you: He is a fierce man, I can tell you, sir.

Cap. Prince. by your leave, I'll have a surcingle, And mail you like a hawk.

[He stirs.

Continue still your love; and, for an earnest,
Drink this.

All. Long may'st thou live, brave prince! bray prince! brave prince!

[Exeunt PHILASTER and PHARAMON Cap. Go thy ways! Thou art the king of courtes -Fall off again, my sweet youths. Come, And every man trace to his house again, And hang his pewter up; then to the tavern, And bring your wives in muffs. We will have musi And the red grape shall make us dance, and ris boys. [Exem

SCENE V.-The Palace.

Enter KING, ARETHUSA, GALATEA, MEGRA, CLEREMON DION, THRASILINE, Bellario, and Attendants. King. Is it appeas'd?

Dion. Sir, all is quiet as the dead of night, As peaceable as sleep. My lord Philaster Brings on the prince himself.

King. Kind gentleman!

I will not break the least word I have given
In promise to him: I have heap'd a world
Of grief upon his head, which yet I hope
To wash away.

Enter PHILASTER and PHARAMOND.
Cle. My lord is come.

King. My son !

Blest be the time, that I have leave to call
Such virtue mine! Now thou art in mine arms
Methinks I have a salve unto my breast,
For all the stings that dwell there. Streams of gr
That I have wrong'd thee, and as much of joy
That I repent it, issue from mine eyes :

Let them appease thee. Take thy right; take he
She is thy right too; and forget to urge
My vexed soul with that I did before.

Phi. Sir, it is blotted from my memory,
Past and forgotten.-For you, prince of Spain,
Whom I have thus redeem'd, you have full lea
To make an honourable voyage home.
And if you would go furnish'd to your realm
With fair provision, I do see a lady,
Methinks, would gladly bear you company :
How like you this piece?

Meg. Sir, he likes it well;

For he hath tried it, and found it worth
His princely liking. We were ta'en a-bed;
I know your meaning. I am not the first
That Nature taught to seek a fellow forth:
Can shame remain perpetually in me,
And not in others? or, have princes salves
To cure ill names, that meaner people want?
Phi. What mean you?

Meg. You must get another ship,

To bear the princess and her boy together.
Dion. How now!

Meg. Others took me, and I took her and h At that all women may be ta'en some time. Ship us all four, my lord; we can endure Weather and wind alike.

King. Clear thou thyself, or know not me father.

Are. This earth, how false it is! What m is left for me

To clear myself? It lies in your belief.
My lords, believe me; and let all things else
Struggle together to dishonour me.

Bel. Oh, stop your ears, great king, that I may speak

As freedom would ; then I will call this lady
As base as are her actions! Hear me, sir:
Believe your heated blood when it rebels
Against your reason, sooner than this lady.

Meg. By this good light, he bears it handsomely.
Phi. This lady? I will sooner trust the wind
With feathers, or the troubled sea with pearl,
Than her with any thing. Believe her not!
Why, think you, if I did believe her words,
I would outlive 'em? Honour cannot take
Revenge on you; then, what were to be known
But death?

King. Forget her, sir, since all is knit
Between us. But I must request of you
One favour, and will sadly be denied.
Phi. Command, whate'er it be.
King. Swear to be true

To what you promise.

Phi. By the powers above,

Let it not be the death of her or him,
And it is granted.

King. Bear away that boy

To torture: I will have her clear'd or buried.

Phi. Oh, let me call my words back, worthy sir! Ask something else! Bury my life and right In one poor grave; but do not take away My life and fame at once.

[man,

King. Away with him! It stands irrevocable.
Phi. Turn all your eyes on me: Here stands a
The falsest and the basest of this world.
Set swords against this breast, some honest man,
For I have lived till I am pitied!

My former deeds were hateful, but this last
Is pitiful; for I, unwillingly,

Have given the dear preserver of my life
Unto his torture! Is it in the power

Of flesh and blood to carry this, and live?
[Offers to kill himself.
Are. Dear sir, be patient yet! Oh, stay that
King. Sirs, strip that boy.

Dion. Come, sir; your tender flesh

Will try your constancy.

Bel. Oh, kill me, gentlemen!

Dion. No!-Help, sirs.

Bel. Will you torture me?

King. Haste there!

Why stay you?

Bel. Then I shall not break my vow,

You know, just gods, though I discover all.

King. How's that? will he confess?

Dion. Sir, so he says.

King. Speak then.

Bel. Great king, if you command

[hand.

This lord to talk with me alone, my tongue,
Urged by my heart, shall utter all the thoughts

My youth hath known; and stranger things than
You hear not often.

King. Walk aside with him.

Dion. Why speak'st thou not?

Bel. Know you this face, my lord?

Dion. No.

[these

There was such strange resemblance, that we two Could not be known asunder, dress'd alike.

Dion. By heaven, and so there is.

Bel. For her fair sake,

Who now doth spend the spring-time of her life
In holy pilgrimage, move to the king,
That I may 'scape this torture.

Dion. But thou speak'st

As like Euphrasia, as thou dost look.
How came it to thy knowledge that she lives
In pilgrimage?

Bel. I know it not, my lord;

But I have heard it; and do scarce believe it.
Dion. Oh, my shame! Is it possible? Draw
That I may gaze upon thee. Art thou she, [near,
Or else her murderer? Where wert thou born?

Bel. In Siracusa.

Dion. What's thy name?

Bel. Euphrasia.

Dion. Oh, 'tis just, 'tis she!

Now I do know thee. Oh, that thou hadst died,
And I had never seen thee nor my shame!
How shall I own thee? shall this tongue of mine
E'er call thee daughter more?

Bel. 'Would I had died indeed; I wish it too:
And so I must have done by vow, ere published
What I have told, but that there was no means
To hide it longer. Yet I joy in this,
The princess is all clear.

King. What have you done?
Dion. All is discover'd.
Phi. Why then hold you me ?

[He offers to stab himself. All is discover'd! Pray you, let me go. King. Stay him.

Are. What is discover'd?
Dion. Why, my shame!

It is a woman: Let her speak the rest.
Phi. How? that again!

Dion. It is a woman.

I have a power to pardon sins, as oft As any man has power to wrong me. Cle. Noble and worthy!

Phi. But, Bellario,

(For I must call thee still so) tell me why Thou didst conceal thy sex? It was a fault;

A fault, Bellario, though thy other deeds

Of truth outweigh'd it: All these jealousies Had flown to nothing, if thou hadst discover'd What now we know.

Bel. My father oft would speak

Your worth and virtue; and, as I did grow More and more apprehensive, I did thirst To see the man so praised; but yet all this Was but a maiden longing, to be lost

As soon as found; till sitting in my window,
Printing my thoughts in lawn, I saw a god,
I thought, (but it was you) enter our gates.
My blood flew out, and back again as fast,
As I had puff'd it forth and suck'd it in
Like breath: Then was I call'd away in haste
To entertain you. Never was a man,
Heaved from a sheep-cote to a sceptre, raised
So high in thoughts as I: You left a kiss
Upon these lips then, which I mean to keep
From you for ever. I did hear you talk,
Far above singing! After you were gone,
I grew acquainted with my heart, and search'd
What stirr'd it so: Alas! I found it love;
Yet far from lust; for could I but have lived
In presence of you, I had had my end.
For this I did delude my noble father
With a feign'd pilgrimage, and dress'd myself
In habit of a boy; and, for I knew
My birth no match for you, I was past hope
Of having you: and understanding well,
That when I made discovery of my sex,
I could not stay with you, I made a vow,
By all the most religious things a maid
Could call together, never to be known,

Whilst there was hope to hide me from men's eyes,
For other than I seem'd, that I might ever
Abide with you: Then sat I by the fount,
Where first you took me up.

King. Search out a match

Within our kingdom, where and when thou wilt,
And I will pay thy dowry; and thyself
Wilt well deserve him.

Cannot be jealous, though you had a lady
Dress'd like a page to serve you; nor will I
Suspect her living here.-Come, live with me;
Live free as I do. She that loves my lord,
Curst be the wife that hates her!

Phi. I grieve such virtues should be laid in earth
Without an heir. Hear me, my royal father:
Wrong not the freedom of our souls so much,
To think to take revenge of that base woman;
Her malice cannot hurt us. Set her free
As she was born, saving from shame and sin.
King. Set her at liberty; but leave the court;
This is no place for such! You, Pharamond,
Shall have free passage, and a conduct home
Worthy so great a prince.—When you come there
Remember, 'twas your faults that lost you her,
And not my purposed will.

BESSUS,

two Captains.

LYGONES, Father of Spaconia.

Three Gentlemen.

Two Swordmen.

Three Men.

PHILIP, a Servant.
A Messenger.

A Servant to Bacurius.
A Boy.

SCENE I.-The Camp of Arbaces, on the Frontiers of Armenia.

Enter MARDONIUS and Bessus.

Mar. Bessus, the king has made a fair hand on't; he has ended the wars at a blow. 'Would my sword had a close basket hilt, to hold wine, and the blade would make knives; for we shall have nothing but eating and drinking.

Bes. We, that are commanders, shall do well enough.

Mar. 'Faith, Bessus, such commanders as thou may: I had as lieve set thee perdue for a pudding i' th' dark, as Alexander the Great.

Bes. I love these jests exceedingly.

Mar. I think thou lov'st 'em better than quarrelling, Bessus; I'll say so much in thy behalf. And yet thou'rt valiant enough upon a retreat: I think thou would'st kill any man that stopp'd thee, an thou couldst.

Bes. But was not this a brave combat, Mardonius?

Mar. Why, didst thou see it?

Bes. You stood with me.

Bes. I could willingly venture for it. Mar. Hum! no venture neither, good Bessus. Bes. Let me not live, if I do not think it is a braver piece of service than that I'm so famed for. Mar. Why, art thou famed for any valour? Bes. I famed? Ay, I warrant you.

Mar. I am very heartily glad on't: I have been with thee ever since thou cam'st to the wars, and this is the first word that ever I heard on't. Pr'ythee, who fames thee?

Bes. The Christian world.

Mar. 'Tis heathenishly done of 'em ; in my conscience, thou deserv'st it not.

Bes. I ha' done good service.

Mar. I do not know how thou may'st wait of a man in's chamber, or thy agility in shifting a trencher; but otherwise no service, good Bessus. Bes. You saw me do the service yourself. Mar. Not so hasty, sweet Bessus! Where was it? is the place vanish'd?

Bes. At Bessus' Desperate Redemption, Mar. At Bessus' Desperate Redemption! where's that?

Bes. There, where I redeem'd the day; the place bears my name.

Mar. Pr'ythee who christen'd it?

Bes. The soldier.

man,

* Mar. If I were not a very merrily disposed what would become of thee? One that had but a grain of choler in the whole composition of his body, would send thee of an errand to the worms, for putting thy name upon that field: Did not I beat thee there, i' th' head o' th' troops, with a truncheon, because thou wouldst needs run away with thy company, when we should charge the enemy?

Bes. True; but I did not run.

Mar. Right, Bessus: I beat thee out on't. Bes. But came not I up when the day was gone, and redeem'd all?

Mar. Thou knowest, and so do I, thou meant'st

fly, and thy fear making thee mistake, thou ran'st upon the enemy; and a hot charge thou gavest; as, I'll do thee right, thou art furious in running away; and, I think, we owe thy fear for our victory. If I were the king, and were sure thou wouldst mistake always, and run away upon the enemy, thou shouldst be general, by this light. Bes. You'll never leave this till I fall foul. Mar. No more such words, dear Bessus; for though I have ever known thee a coward, and therefore durst never strike thee, yet if thou proceed'st, I will allow thee valiant, and beat thee.

Bes. Come, our king's a brave fellow.

Mar. He is so, Bessus; I wonder how thou com'st to know it. But, if thou wert a man of understanding, I would tell thee, he is vain-glorious and humble, and angry and patient, and merry and dull, and joyful and sorrowful, in extremities, in an hour. Do not think me thy friend, for this; for if I cared who knew it, thou shouldst not hear it, Bessus. Here he is, with the prey in his foot.

Enter ARBACES, TIGRANES, two Gentlemen, and
Attendants.

Arb. Thy sadness, brave Tigranes, takes away From my full victory: Am I become

Of so small fame, that any man should grieve
When I o'ercome him? They that placed me here,
Intended it an honour, large enough
For the most valiant living, but to dare
Oppose me single, though he lost the day.
What should afflict you? You are as free as I.
To be my prisoner, is to be more free
Than you were formerly. And never think,
The man,
I held worthy to combat me,
Shall be used servilely. Thy ransom is,
To take my only sister to thy wife:
A heavy one, Tigranes; for she is

A lady, that the neighbour princes send

Blanks to fetch home. I have been too unkind
To her, Tigranes: She, but nine years old,

I left her, and ne'er saw her since: Your wars
Have held me long, and taught me, though a youth,
The way to victory. She was a pretty child;
Then, I was little better; but now fame
Cries loudly on her, and my messengers
Make me believe she is a miracle.

She'll make you shrink, as I did, with a stroke
But of her eye, Tigranes.

Tigr. Is it the course of

Iberia to use her prisoners thus ?

Had fortune thrown my name above Arbaces',
I should not thus have talk'd; for in Armenia,
We hold it base. You should have kept your

temper

Till you saw home again, where 'tis the fashion,
Perhaps, to brag.

Arb. Be you my witness, earth,
Need I to brag? Doth not this captive prince
Speak me sufficiently, and all the acts

That I have wrought upon his suffering land? Should I then boast? Where lies that foot of ground,

Within his whole realm, that I have not past,
Fighting and conquering: Far then from me
Be ostentation. could tell the world,
How I have laid his kingdom desolate,
By this sole arm, propp'd by divinity;
Stript him out of his glories; and have sent
The pride of all his youth to people graves;

Arb. But he shall wrong his and my modesty,
That thinks me apt to boast: After an act
Fit for a god to do upon his foe,

A little glory in a soldier's mouth
Is well-becoming; be it far from vain.

Mar. 'Tis pity, that valour should be thus drunk
[Asid
Arb. I offer you my sister, and you answer,
I do insult: A lady that no suit,
Nor treasure, nor thy crown, could purchase the
But that thou fought'st with me.

Tigr. Though this be worse

Than that you spoke before, it strikes not me ;
But, that you think to over-grace me with
The marriage of your sister, troubles me.

I would give worlds for ransoms, were they mine.
Rather than have her.

Arb. See, if I insult,

That am the conqueror, and for a ransom
Offer rich treasure to the conquered,
Which he refuses, and I bear his scorn!
It cannot be self-flattery to say,

The daughters of your country, set by her,
Would see their shame, run home, and blush
At their own foulness. Yet she is not fair, [deat
Nor beautiful; those words express her not:
They say, her looks have something excellent,
That wants a name yet. Were she odious,
Her birth deserves the empire of the world:
Sister to such a brother; that hath ta'en
Victory prisoner, and throughout the earth
Carries her bound, and should he let her loose.
She durst not leave him. Nature did her wrong
To print continual conquest on her cheeks,
And make no man worthy for her to take,
But me, that am too near her; and as strangely
She did for me: But you will think I brag.

Mar. I do, I'll be sworn. Thy valour and t passions severed, would have made two excelle fellows in their kinds. I know not, whether should be sorry thou art so valiant, or so passio ate: 'Would one of 'em were away!

Tigr. Do I refuse her, that I doubt her wort Were she as virtuous as she would be thought; So perfect, that no one of her own sex Could find a want she had; so tempting fair, That she could wish it off, for damning souls; I would pay any ransom, twenty lives, Rather than meet her married in my bed. Perhaps, I have a love, where I have fix'd Mine eyes, not to be moved, and she on me; I am not fickle.

Arb. Is that all the cause?

Think you, you can so knit yourself in love
To any other, that her searching sight
Cannot dissolve it? So, before you tried,
You thought yourself a match for me in fight.
Trust me, Tigranes, she can do as much
In peace, as I in war; she'll conquer too.
You shall see, if you have the power to stand
The force of her swift looks. If you dislike,