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: and This way were freer. Am I raging now? If I were mad, I should desire to live. Sirs, feel my pulse: Whether have you known A man in a more equal tune to die? 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 plenty! From that flowing store, drop some on dry ground. See, 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, To put me in a miserable life, And bold 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 gods, 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 Forgive my passion. Not the calmed sea, Is less disturbed than I: I'll make you know it. 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, 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! Coun. Hold, dastard, strike a woman! Thou'rt a craven, I warrant thee: Thou would'st be loth to play half a dozen of venies at wasters with a good fellow for a broken head. 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 know, the rogue has hurt you. Phi. Pursue thy own affairs: It will be ill Coun. I know not your rhetorick; but I can lay it on, if you touch the woman. [They fight. 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 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; a knave has hurt her. Pha. The princess, gentlemen! Where's the wound, madam? Is it dangerous? Are. He has not hurt me. Coun. I'faith, she lies; he has hurt her in the breast; look else. Pha. Oh, sacred spring of innocent blood! Pha. Speak, villain, who has hurt the princess? Dion. Ay. 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, 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, Bel. Oh! Death, I hope, is come: Blest be It meant me well. Again, for pity's sake! here, Is he that struck thee: Take thy full revenge; I'll leave ne'er a piece of him bigger than a nut, And I will second thee: Get a reward. And bring him all in my hat. Are. Nay, good sir, If you do take him, bring him quick to me, 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. 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, I need not counterfeit to fall; Heaven knows Enter PHARAMOND, DION, CLEREMONT, and Pha. To this place we have tracked him by his blood. Cle. Yonder, my lord, creeps one away. Bel. A wretched creature, wounded in these woods By beasts: Relieve me, if your names be men, Or I shall perish. Dion. This is he, my lord, Upon my soul, that hurt her: 'Tis the boy, Pha. Oh, thou damned in thy creation! What cause could'st thou shape to hurt the princess? Bel. Then I am betrayed. Dion. Betrayed! no, apprehended. Bel. I confess, Urge it no more, that, big with evil thoughts, I set upon her, and did take my aim, Her death. For charity, let fall at once The punishment you mean, and do not load This weary flesh with tortures. Pha. I will know Who hired thee to this deed. Bel. Mine own revenge. Me as her page, and, when my fortunes ebbed, As storms arise at sea, she turned her eyes Pha. If tortures can be found, Long as thy natural life, resolve to feel The utmost rigour. [Philaster creeps out of a bush. Phi. Turn back, ye ravishers of innocence! Pha. Who's that? Dion. 'Tis the lord Philaster. Phi. 'Tis not the treasure of all kings in one, That virtne! It was I, that hurt the princess. I may discourse to all the under-world The worth, that dwells in him! Pha. How's this? Bel. My lord, some man Weary of life, that would be glad to die. Phi. Leave these untimely courtesies, Bellario. Bel. Alas, he's mad! Come, will you lead me on? Phi. By all the oaths, that men ought most to keep, And gods to punish most, when men do break, Dion. Is't not a brave boy? Well, sirs, I fear me, we were all deceived. Dion. Yes. Phi. Then shew it: Some good body lend a hand to draw us nearer. To stop his life? To bind whose bitter wounds, tears Bathe them. Forgive me, thou, that art the wealth Of poor Philaster. Enter KING, ARETHUSA, and a Guard. King. Is the villain taken? Pha. Sir, here be two confess the deed; but, say it was Philaster? "Phi. Question it no more; it was. King. The fellow, that did fight with him, will tell us that. Are. Ah me! I know he will. King. Did not you know him? Are. Sir, if it was he, he was disguised. Phi. I was so. Oh, my stars! that I should live still. King. Thou ambitious fool! Thou, that hast laid a train for thy own life! Are. Sir, they did plot together to take hence Enter PHILASTER, ARETHUSA, and BELLARIO. Are. Nay, dear Philaster, grieve not; we are well. Bel. Nay, good my lord, forbear; we are wondrous well. Phi. Oh, Arethusa! oh, Bellario! leave to be kind: I shall be shot from Heaven, as now from earth, Bel. Alas, my lord, my life is not a thing, Are. And I (the woful'st maid that ever was, Forced with my hands to bring my lord to death) Do, by the honour of a virgin, swear To tell no hours beyond it. Phi. Make me not hated so. Are. Come from this prison, all joyful to our deaths. Phi. People will tear me, when they find ye true To such a wretch as I; I shall die loathed. Bel. A piece of you? He was not born of woman, that can cut It, and look on. Phi. Take me in tears betwixt you, [Exeunt. For else my heart will break with shame and sor If row. Are. Why, 'tis well. Bel. Lament no more. Phi. What would you have done, you had wronged me basely, and had found My life no price, compared to yours? For love, sirs, Deal with me truly. Bel. Twas mistaken, sir. Phi. Why, if it were? Bel. Then, sir, we would have asked you par don. Enter KING, DION, CLEREMONT, and King. Gentlemen, who saw the prince? And the new platform, with some gentlemen King. Is the princess ready Dion. King, you may be deceived yet The head, you aim at, cost more setting on Than to be lost so lightly. If it must off, Like a wild overflow, that swoops 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 Enter PHILASTER, ARETHUSA, and BELLARIO in a robe and garland. King. How now! what masque is this? Sing you an epithalamium of these lovers, But, having lost my best airs with my fortunes, Free from the Sirian star, and the fell thunderstroke, Free from the clouds, when they were big with humour, And delivered, in thousand spouts, their issues to the earth: Oh, there was none but silent quiet there! 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 Hath knit their noble hearts, and here they stand Are. Sir, if you love it in plain truth, (For there's no masquing in't) this gentleman, The prisoner that you gave me, is become My keeper, and through all the bitter throes Your jealousies and his ill fate have wrought him, Thus nobly hath he struggled, and at length Arrived here, my dear husband. King. Your dear husband! Call in The captain of the citadel; there you shall keep Your wedding. I'll provide a masque shall make Your Hymen turn his saffron into a sullen coat, And sing sad requiems to your departing souls: Blood shall put out your torches; and, instead Of gaudy flowers about your wanton necks, An axe shall hang like a prodigious meteor, Ready to crop your loves' sweets. gods! Hear, ye From this time do I shake all title off Are. Sir, by that little life I have left to swear What I have done, I've done without repentance; For death can be no bugbear unto me, So long as Pharamond is not my headsman. Dion. Sweet peace upon thy soul, thou worthy maid, Whene'er thou diest! For this time I'll excuse thee, Or be thy prologue. Phi. Sir, let me speak next; And let my dying words be better with you |