PHILASTER; OR, LOVE LIES A BLEEDING. TRAGI-COMEDY. BY FRANCIS AND JOHN FLETCHER. A BEAUMONT Philaster tells the Princess Arethusa how he first found the boy Bellario, I have a boy sent by the gods, Not yet seen in the court; hunting the buck, Of which he borrow'd some to quench his thirst, Which gave him roots; and of the crystal springs, Exprest his grief: and to my thoughts did read That could be wish'd, so that, methought, I could That ever master kept him will I send To wait on you, and bear our hidden love. Philaster prefers Bellario to the Service of the Princess Phi. And thou shalt find her honourable, boy, For thine own modesty; and for my sake, Apter to give, than thou wilt be to ask, aye, or deserve. Bell. 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 are apt To construe a simple innocence in me, Perhaps might have been craft, the cunning of a boy Harden'd in lies and theft; yet ventur'd you To part my miseries and me: for which, I never can expect to serve a lady That bears more honour in her breast than you. Phi. But, boy, it will prefer thee; thou art young, And bear'st a childish overflowing love To them that clap thy cheeks and speak thee fair yet. She is a princess I prefer thee to. Bell. In that small time that I have seen the world, I never knew a man hasty to part With a servant he thought trusty; I remember, To greater men than he, but did it not Bell. Sir, if I have made A fault of ignorance, instruct my youth; For For once; what master holds so strict a hand Phi. Thy love doth plead so prettily to stay, And when thou art with her thou dwell'st with me: With joy receive thee; as I live, I will; Bell. I am gone; But since I am to part with you, my lord, And none knows whether I shall live to do Are. Sir, you are sad to change your service, is't not so? To do him service. Are. Thou disclaim'st in me; Tell me thy name. Bell. Bellario. Are. Thou can'st sing and play? Bell. If grief will give me leave, madam, I can. Are. Alas! what kind of grief can thy years know? Had'st thou a curst master when thou went'st to school? Thou art not capable of any other grief; Care Care seeks out wrinkled brows, and hollow eyes, Come, sir, tell me truly, does your lord love me ? Are. Canst thou know grief, and never yet knew'st love Bell. If it be love, To forget all respect of his own friends, Or kill'd, because it might have been your chance; Philaster is jealous of Bellario with the Princess. The princess doth commend her love, her life, Phi. O Bellario, Now I perceive she loves me, she does shew it 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 Το 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? Bell. Scarce like her servant, but as if I were As mothers fond do use their only sons; Phi. Why this is wond'rous 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 Phi. This is much better still. Bell. Are you ill, my lord? Phi. Ill? No, Bellario. Bell. Methinks 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 strokes 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? Phi. Come, come, I know she does. Aye, |