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A King, and No King
by Francis Beaumont and John Fletcher
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A KING, AND NO KING.

By Francis Beaumont and John Fletcher



Persons Represented in the Play.

Arbaces, King of Iberia.

Tigranes, King of Armenia.

Gobrias, Lord Protector, and Father of Arbaces.

Bacurius, another Lord.

Mardonius.) Bessus, ) Two Captains

Ligo[n]es, Father of Spaconia.

Two Gentlemen.

Three Men and a Woman.

Philip, a servant, and two Citizens Wives.

A Messenger.

A Servant to Bacurius.

Two Sword-men.

A Boy.

Arane, ) The [Queen-Mother.

Panthea,) Her Daughter.

Spaconia,) A Lady Daughter of Ligones

Mandane,) A waiting woman, and other attendants.

* * * * *



Actus primus. Scena prima.

* * * * *

Enter Mardonius and Bessus, Two Captains.

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'le say so much i'thy behalf, and yet thou 'rt valiant enough upon a retreat, I think thou wouldst kill any man that stopt thee if thou couldst.

Bes.

But was not this a brave Combate Mardonius?

Mar.

Why, didst thou see't?

Bes.

You stood wi'me.

Mar.

I did so, but me thought thou wink'dst every blow they strook.

Bes.

Well, I believe there are better souldiers than I, that never saw two Princes fight in lists.

Mar.

By my troth I think so too Bessus, many a thousand, but certainly all that are worse than thou have seen as much.

Bes.

'Twas bravely done of our King.

Mar.

Yes, if he had not ended the wars: I'me glad thou dar'st talk of such dangerous businesses.

Bes.

To take a Prince prisoner in the heart of's own Country in single combat.

Mar.

See how thy blood curdles at this, I think thou couldst be contented to be beaten i'this passion.

Bes.

Shall I tell you truly?

Mar.

I.

Bes.

I could willingly venture for't.

Mar.

Um, no venture neither Bessus.

Bes.

Let me not live, if I do not think 'tis a braver piece of service than that I'me so fam'd for.

Mar.

Why, art thou fam'd for any valour?

Bes.

Fam'd! I, I warrant you.

Mar.

I'me e'en heartily glad on't, I have been with thee e're since thou cam'st to th'wars, and this is the first word that ever I heard on't, prethee who fames thee.

Bes.

The Christian world.

Mar.

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

Bes.

Yes, I ha' don good service.

Mar.

I do not know how thou mayst wait of a man in's Chamber, or thy agility of shifting of a Trencher, but otherwise no service good Bessus.

Bes.

You saw me do the service your self.

Mar.

Not so hasty sweet Bessus, where was it, is the place vanish'd?

Bes.

At Bessus desp'rate redemption.

Mar.

At Bessus desp'rate redemption, where's that?

Bes.

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

Mar.

Pray thee, who Christened it?

Bes.

The Souldiers.

Mar.

If I were not a very merrily dispos'd man, 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 Trunchion, 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 I not up when the day was gone, and redeem'd all?

Mar.

Thou knowest, and so do I, thou meanedst to flie, and thy fear making thee mistake, thou ranst upon the enemy, and a hot charge thou gav'st, as I'le 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 alwaies and run away upon th' enemy, thou shouldst be General by this light.

Bes.

You'l 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 proceedest, 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 cam'st to know it. But if thou wer't 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 extremity in an hour: Do not think me thy friend for this, for if I ear'd who knew it, thou shouldst not hear it Bessus. Here he is with his prey in his foot.

Enter &c. Senet Flourish.

Enter Arbaces and Tigranes, Two Kings and two Gentlemen.

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'recome him? They that plac'd me here, Intended it an honour large enough, (though he For the most valiant living, but to dare oppose me single, 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 combate me Shall be us'd 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're 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'l make you shrink, as I did, with a stroak But of her eye Tigranes.

Tigr.

Is't the course of Iberia to use their prisoners thus? Had fortune thrown my name above Arbace, I should not thus have talk'd Sir, 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. I could tell the world How I have laid his Kingdom desolate By this sole Arm prop't by divinity, Stript him out of his glories, and have sent The pride of all his youth to people graves, And made his Virgins languish for their Loves, If I would brag, should I that have the power To teach the Neighbour world humility, Mix with vain-glory?

Mar.

Indeed this is none.

_Arb.

Tigranes, Nay did I but take delight To stretch my deeds as others do, on words, I could amaze my hearers.

Mar.

So you do.

Arb.

But he shall wrong his and my modesty, That thinks me apt to boast after any act Fit for a good man to do upon his foe. A little glory in a souldiers mouth Is well-becoming, be it far from vain.

Mar.

'Tis pity that valour should be thus drunk.

Arb.

I offer you my Sister, and you answer I do insult, a Lady that no suite Nor treasure, nor thy Crown could purchase thee, But that thou fought'st with me.

Tigr.

Though this be worse Than that you spake before, it strikes me not; But that you think to overgrace 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 Conquerour, 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 to death, At their own foulness; yet she is not fair, 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'ne 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 taste But me that am too near her, and as strangely She did for me, but you will think I brag.

Mar.

I do I'le be sworn. Thy valour and thy passions sever'd, would have made two excellent fellows in their kinds: I know not whether I should be sorry thou art so valiant, or so passionate, wou'd one of 'em were away.

Tigr.

Do I refuse her that I doubt her worth? Were she as vertuous as she would be thought, So perfect that no one of her own sex Could find a want, had she 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 fixt Mine eyes not to be mov'd, and she on me, I am not fickle.

Arb.

Is that all the cause? Think you, you can so knit your self in love To any other, that her searching sight Cannot dissolve it? So before you tri'd, You thought your self a match for me in [f]ight, Trust me Tigranes, she can do as much In peace, as I in war, she'l conquer too, You shall see if you have the power to stand The force of her swift looks, if you dislike, I'le send you home with love, and name your ransom Some other way, but if she be your choice, She frees you: To Iberia you must.

Tigr.

Sir, I have learn'd a prisoners sufferance, And will obey, but give me leave to talk In private with some friends before I go.

Arb.

Some to await him forth, and see him safe, But let him freely send for whom he please, And none dare to disturb his conference, I will not have him know what bondage is,

[Exit Tigranes.

Till he be free from me. This Prince, Mardonius, Is full of wisdom, valour, all the graces Man can receive.

Mar.

And yet you conquer'd him.

Arb.

And yet I conquer'd him, and could have don't Hadst thou joyn'd with him, though thy name in Arms Be great; must all men that are vertuous Think suddenly to match themselves with me? I conquered him and bravely, did I not?

Bes.

And please your Majesty, I was afraid at first.

Mar.

When wert thou other?

Arb.

Of what?

Bes.

That you would not have spy'd your best advantages, for your Majesty in my opinion lay too high, methinks, under favour, you should have lain thus.

Mar.

Like a Taylor at a wake.

Bes.

And then, if please your Majesty to remember, at one time, by my troth I wisht my self wi'you.

Mar.

By my troth thou wouldst ha' stunk 'em both out o'th' Lists.

Arb.

What to do?

Bes.

To put your Majesty in mind of an occasion; you lay thus, and Tigranes falsified a blow at your Leg, which you by doing thus avoided; but if you had whip'd up your Leg thus, and reach'd him on the ear, you had made the Blood-Royal run down his head.

Mar.

What Country Fence-school learn'st thou at?

Arb.

Pish, did not I take him nobly?

Mar.

Why you did, and you have talked enough on't.

Arb.

Talkt enough? Will you confine my word? by heaven and earth, I were much better be a King of beasts Than such a people: if I had not patience Above a God, I should be call'd a Tyrant Throughout the world. They will offend to death Each minute: Let me hear thee speak again, And thou art earth again: why this is like Tigranes speech that needs would say I brag'd. Bessus, he said I brag'd.

Bes.

Ha, ha, ha.

Arb.

Why dost thou laugh? By all the world, I'm grown ridiculous To my own Subjects: Tie me in a Chair And jest at me, but I shall make a start, And punish some that others may take heed How they are haughty; who will answer me? He said I boasted, speak Mardonius, Did I? He will not answer, O my temper! I give you thanks above, that taught my heart Patience, I can endure his silence; what will none Vouchsafe to give me answer? am I grown To such a poor respect, or do you mean To break my wind? Speak, speak, some one of you, Or else by heaven.

1 Gent.

So please your.

Arb.

Monstrous, I cannot be heard out, they cut me off, As if I were too saucy, I will live In woods, and talk to trees, they will allow me To end what I begin. The meanest Subject Can find a freedom to discharge his soul And not I, now it is a time to speak, I hearken.

1 Gent.

May it please.

Arb.

I mean not you, Did not I stop you once? but I am grown To balk, but I defie, let another speak.

2 Gent.

I hope your Majesty.

Arb.

Thou drawest thy words, That I must wait an hour, where other men Can hear in instants; throw your words away, Quick, and to purpose, I have told you this.

Bes.

And please your Majesty.

Arb.

Wilt thou devour me? this is such a rudeness As you never shew'd me, and I want Power to command too, else Mardonius Would speak at my request; were you my King, I would have answered at your word Mardonius, I pray you speak, and truely, did I boast?

Mar.

Truth will offend you.

Arb.

You take all great care what will offend me, When you dare to utter such things as these.

Mar.

You told Tigranes, you had won his Land, With that sole arm propt by Divinity: Was not that bragging, and a wrong to us, That daily ventured lives?

Arb.

O that thy name Were as great, as mine, would I had paid my wealth, It were as great, as I might combate thee, I would through all the Regions habitable Search thee, and having found thee, wi'my Sword Drive thee about the world, till I had met Some place that yet mans curiosity Hath mist of; there, there would I strike thee dead: Forgotten of mankind, such Funeral rites As beasts would give thee, thou shouldst have.

Bes.

The King rages extreamly, shall we slink away? He'l strike us.

2 Gent.

Content.

Arb.

There I would make you know 'twas this sole arm. I grant you were my instruments, and did As I commanded you, but 'twas this arm Mov'd you like wheels, it mov'd you as it pleas'd. Whither slip you now? what are you too good To wait on me (puffe,) I had need have temper That rule such people; I have nothing left At my own choice, I would I might be private: Mean men enjoy themselves, but 'tis our curse, To have a tumult that out of their loves Will wait on us, whether we will or no; Go get you gone: Why here they stand like death, My words move nothing.

1 Gent.

Must we go?

Bes. I know not.

Arb.

I pray you leave me Sirs, I'me proud of this, That you will be intreated from my sight: Why now the[y] leave me all: Mardonius.

[Exeunt all but Arb. and Mar.

Mar.

Sir.

Arb.

Will you leave me quite alone? me thinks Civility should teach you more than this, If I were but your friend: Stay here and wait.

Mar.

Sir shall I speak?

Arb.

Why, you would now think much To be denied, but I can scar[c]e intreat What I would have: do, speak.

Mar.

But will you hear me out?

Arb.

With me you Article to talk thus: well, I will hear you out.

Mar.

Sir, that I have ever lov'd you, my sword hath spoken for me; that I do, if it be doubted, I dare call an oath, a great one to my witness; and were you not my King, from amongst men, I should have chose you out to love above the rest: nor can this challenge thanks, for my own sake I should have done it, because I would have lov'd the most deserving man, for so you are.

Arb.

Alas Mardonius, rise you shall not kneel, We all are souldiers, and all venture lives: And where there is no difference in mens worths, Titles are jests, who can outvalue thee? Mardonius thou hast lov'd me, and hast wrong, Thy love is not rewarded, but believe It shall be better, more than friend in arms, My Father, and my Tutor, good Mardonius.

Mar.

Sir, you did promise you would hear me out.

Arb.

And so I will; speak freely, for from thee Nothing can come but worthy things and true.

Mar.

Though you have all this worth, you hold some qualities that do Eclipse your vertues.

Arb.

Eclipse my vertues?

Mar.

Yes, your passions, which are so manifold, that they appear even in this: when I commend you, you hug me for that truth: but when I speak your faults, you make a start, and flie the hearing but.

Arb.

When you commend me? O that I should live To need such commendations: If my deeds Blew not my praise themselves about the earth, I were most wretched: spare your idle praise: If thou didst mean to flatter, and shouldst utter Words in my praise, that thou thoughtst impudence, My deeds should make 'em modest: when you praise I hug you? 'tis so [false], that wert thou worthy thou shouldst receive a death, a glorious death from me: but thou shalt understand thy lies, for shouldst thou praise me into Heaven, and there leave me inthron'd, I would despise thee though as much as now, which is as much as dust because I see thy envie.

Mar.

However you will use me after, yet for your own promise sake, hear me the rest.

Arb.

I will, and after call unto the winds, for they shall lend as large an ear as I to what you utter: speak.

Mar.

Would you but leave these hasty tempers, which I do not say take from you all your worth, but darken 'em, then you will shine indeed.

Arb.

Well.

Mar.

Yet I would have you keep some passions, lest men should take you for a God, your vertues are such.

Arb.

Why now you flatter.

Mar.

I never understood the word, were you no King, and free from these moods, should I choose a companion for wit and pleasure, it should be you; or for honesty to enterchange my bosom with, it should be you; or wisdom to give me counsel, I would pick out you; or valour to defend my reputation, still I should find you out; for you are fit to fight for all the world, if it could come in question: Now I have spoke, consider to your self, find out a use; if so, then what shall fall to me is not material.

Arb.

Is not material? more than ten such lives, as mine, Mardonius: it was nobly said, thou hast spoke truth, and boldly such a truth as might offend another. I have been too passionate and idle, thou shalt see a swift amendment, but I want those parts you praise me for: I fight for all the world? Give me a sword, and thou wilt go as far beyond me, as thou art beyond in years, I know thou dar'st and wilt; it troubles me that I should use so rough a phrase to thee, impute it to my folly, what thou wilt, so thou wilt par[d]on me: that thou and I should differ thus!

Mar.

Why 'tis no matter Sir.

Arb.

Faith but it is, but thou dost ever take all things I do, thus patiently, for which I never can requite thee, but with love, and that thou shalt be sure of. Thou and I have not been merry lately: pray thee tell me where hadst thou that same jewel in thine ear?

Mar.

Why at the taking of a Town.

Arb.

A wench upon my life, a wench Mardonius gave thee that jewel.

Mar.

Wench! they respect not me, I'm old and rough, and every limb about me, but that which should, grows stiffer, I'those businesses I may swear I am truly honest: for I pay justly for what I take, and would be glad to be at a certainty.

Arb.

Why, do the wenches encroach upon thee?

Mar.

I by this light do they.

Arb.

Didst thou sit at an old rent with 'em?

Mar.

Yes faith.

Arb.

And do they improve themselves?

Mar.

I ten shillings to me, every new young fellow they come acquainted with.

Arb.

How canst live on't?

Mar.

Why I think I must petition to you.

Arb.

Thou shalt take them up at my price.

Enter two Gentlemen and Bessus.

Mar.

Your price?

Arb.

I at the Kings price.

Mar.

That may be more than I'me worth.

2 Gent.

Is he not merry now?

1 Gent.

I think not.

Bes.

He is, he is: we'l shew our selves.

Arb.

Bessus, I thought you had been in Iberia by this, I bad you hast; Gobrias will want entertainment for me.

Bes.

And please your Majesty I have a sute.

Arb.

Is't not lousie Bessus, what is't?

Bes.

I am to carry a Lady with me.

Arb.

Then thou hast two sutes.

Bes.

And if I can prefer her to the Lady Pentha your Majesties Sister, to learn fashions, as her friends term it, it will be worth something to me.

Arb.

So many nights lodgings as 'tis thither, wilt not?

Bes.

I know not that Sir, but gold I shall be sure of.

Arb.

Why thou shalt bid her entertain her from me, so thou wilt resolve me one thing.

Bes.

If I can.

Arb.

Faith 'tis a very disputable question, and yet I think thou canst decide it.

Bes.

Your Majesty has a good opinion of my understanding.

Arb.

I have so good an opinion of it: 'tis whether thou be valiant.

Bes.

Some body has traduced me to you: do you see this sword Sir?

Arb.

Yes.

Bes.

If I do not make my back-biters eat it to a knife within this week, say I am not valiant.

Enter a Messenger.

Mes.

Health to your Majesty.

Arb.

From Gobrias?

Mes.

Yes Sir.

Arb.

How does he, is he well?

Mes.

In perfect health.

Arb.

Take that for thy good news. A trustier servant to his Prince there lives not, than is good Gobrias.

1 Gent.

The King starts back.

Mar.

His blood goes back as fast.

2 Gent. And now it comes again.

Mar.

He alters strangely.

Arb.

The hand of Heaven is on me, be it far from me to struggle, if my secret sins have pull'd this curse upon me, lend me tears now to wash me white, that I may feel a child-like innocence within my breast; which once perform'd, O give me leave to stand as fix'd as constancy her self, my eyes set here unmov'd, regardless of the world though thousand miseries incompass me.

Mar.

This is strange, Sir, how do you?

Arb.

Mardonius, my mother.

Mar.

Is she dead?

Arb.

Alas she's not so happy, thou dost know how she hath laboured since my Father died to take by treason hence this loathed life, that would but be to serve her, I have pardoned, and pardoned, and by that have made her fit to practise new sins, not repent the old: she now had stirr'd a slave to come from thence, and strike me here, whom Gobrias sifting out, took and condemn'd and executed there, the carefulst servant: Heaven let me but live to pay that man; Nature is poor to me, that will not let me have as many deaths as are the times that he hath say'd my life, that I might dye 'em over all for him.

Mar.

Sir let her bear her sins on her own head, Vex not your self.

Arb.

What will the world Conceive of me? with what unnatural sins Will they suppose me loaden, when my life Is sought by her that gave it to the world? But yet he writes me comfort here, my Sister, He saies, is grown in beauty and in grace. In all the innocent vertues that become A tender spotless maid: she stains her cheeks With morning tears to purge her mothers ill, And 'mongst that sacred dew she mingles Prayers Her pure Oblations for my safe return: If I have lost the duty of a Son, If any pomp or vanity of state Made me forget my natural offices, Nay farther, if I have not every night Expostulated with my wandring thoughts, If ought unto my parent they have err'd, And call'd 'em back: do you direct her arm Unto this foul dissembling heart of mine: But if I have been just to her, send out Your power to compass me, and hold me safe From searching treason; I will use no means But prayer: for rather suffer me to see From mine own veins issue a deadly flood, Than wash my danger off with mothers blood.

Mar.

I n'ere saw such suddain extremities.

[Exeunt.

Enter Tigranes and Spaconia.

Tigr.

Why? wilt thou have me die Spaconia. What should I do?

Spa.

Nay let me stay alone, And when you see Armenia again, You shall behold a Tomb more worth than I; Some friend that ever lov'd me or my cause, Will build me something to distinguish me From other women, many a weeping verse He will lay on, and much lament those maids, That plac'd their loves unfortunately high, As I have done, where they can never reach; But why should you go to Iberia?

Tigr.

Alas, that thou wilt ask me, ask the man That rages in a Fever why he lies Distempered there, when all the other youths Are coursing o're the Meadows with their Loves? Can I resist it? am I not a slave To him that conquer'd me?

Spa.

That conquer'd thee Tigranes! he has won But half of thee, thy body, but thy mind May be as free as his, his will did never Combate thine, and take it prisoner.

Tigr.

But if he by force convey my body hence, What helps it me or thee to be unwilling?

Spa.

O Tigranes, I know you are to see a Lady there, To see, and like I fear: perhaps the hope Of her make[s] you forget me, ere we part, Be happier than you know to wish; farewel.

Tigr.

Spaconia, stay and hear me what I say: In short, destruction meet me that I may See it, and not avoid it, when I leave To be thy faithful lover: part with me Thou shalt not, there are none that know our love, And I have given gold unto a Captain That goes unto Iberia from the King, That he will place a Lady of our Land With the Kings Sister that is offered me; Thither shall you, and being once got in Perswade her by what subtil means you can To be as backward in her love as I.

Spa.

Can you imagine that a longing maid When she beholds you, can be pull'd away With words from loving you?

Tigr.

Dispraise my health, my honesty, and tell her I am jealous.

Spa.

Why, I had rather lose you: can my heart Consent to let my tongue throw out such words, And I that ever yet spoke what I thought, Shall find it such a thing at first to lie?

Tigr.

Yet do thy best.

Enter Bessus.

Bes.

What, is your Majesty ready?

Tigr.

There is the Lady, Captain.

Bes.

Sweet Lady, by your leave, I co[u]ld wish my self more full of Courtship for your fair sake.

Spa.

Sir I shall feel no want of that.

Bes.

Lady, you must hast, I have received new letters from the King that require more hast than I expected, he will follow me suddenly himself, and begins to call for your Majesty already.

Tigr.

He shall not do so long.

Bes.

Sweet Lady, shall I call you my Charge hereafter?

Spa.

I will not take upon me to govern your tongue Sir, you shall call me what you please.



Actus Secundus.

Enter Gobrias, Bacurius, Arane, Panthe, and Mandane, Waiting-women with Attendants.

Gob.

My Lord Bacurius, you must have regard unto the Queen, she is your prisoner, 'tis at your peril if she make escape.

Bac.

My Lord, I know't, she is my prisoner from you committed; yet she is a woman, and so I keep her safe, you will not urge me to keep her close, I shall not shame to say I sorrow for her.

Gob.

So do I my Lord; I sorrow for her, that so little grace doth govern her: that she should stretch her arm against her King, so little womanhood and natural goodness, as to think the death of her own Son.

Ara.

Thou knowst the reason why, dissembling as thou art, and wilt not speak.

Gob.

There is a Lady takes not after you, Her Father is within her, that good man Whose tears weigh'd down his sins, mark how she weeps, How well it does become her, and if you Can find no disposition in your self To sorrow, yet by gracefulness in her Find out the way, and by your reason weep: All this she does for you, and more she needs When for your self you will not lose a tear, Think how this want of grief discredits you, And you will weep, because you cannot weep.

Ara.

You talk to me as having got a time fit for your purpose; but you should be urg'd know I know you speak not what you think.

Pan.

I would my heart were Stone, before my softness Against my mother, a more troubled thought No Virgin bears about; should I excuse My Mothers fault, I should set light a life In losing which, a brother and a King Were taken from me, if I seek to save That life so lov'd, I lose another life That gave me being, I shall lose a Mother, A word of such a sound in a childs ears That it strikes reverence through it; may the will Of heaven be done, and if one needs must fall, Take a poor Virgins life to answer all.

Ara.

But Gobrias let us talk, you know this fault Is not in me as in another Mother.

Gob.

I know it is not.

Ara.

Yet you make it so.

Gob.

Why, is not all that's past beyond your help?

Ara.

I know it is.

Gob.

Nay should you publish it before the world, Think you 'twould be believ'd?

Ara.

I know it would not.

Gob.

Nay should I joyn with you, should we not both be torn and yet both die uncredited?

Ara.

I think we should. Gob.

Why then take you such violent courses? As for me I do but right in saving of the King from all your plots.

Ara.

The King?

Gob.

I bad you rest with patience, and a time Would come for me to reconcile all to Your own content, but by this way you take Away my power, and what was done unknown, Was not by me but you: your urging being done I must preserve my own, but time may bring All this to light, and happily for all.

Ara.

Accursed be this over curious brain That gave that plot a birth, accurst this womb That after did conceive to my disgrace.

Bac.

My Lord Protector, they say there are divers Letters come from Armenia, that Bessus has done good service, and brought again a day, by his particular valour, receiv'd you any to that effect?

Gob.

Yes, 'tis most certain.

Bac.

I'm sorry for't, not that the day was won, But that 'twas won by him: we held him here A Coward, he did me wrong once, at which I laugh'd, And so did all the world, for nor I, Nor any other held him worth my sword.

Enter Bessus and Spaconia.

Bes.

Health to my Protector; from the King These Letters; and to your grace Madam, these.

Gob.

How does his Majesty?

Bes.

As well as conquest by his own means and his valiant C[o]mmanders can make him; your letters will tell you all.

Pan.

I will not open mine till I do know My Brothers health: good Captain is he well?

Bes.

As the rest of us that fought are.

Pan.

But how's that? is he hurt?

Bes.

He's a strange souldier that gets not a knock.

Pan.

I do not ask how strange that souldier is That gets no hurt, but whether he have one.

Bes.

He had divers.

Pan.

And is he well again?

Bes.

Well again, an't please your Grace: why I was run twice through the body, and shot i'th' head with a cross-arrow, and yet am well again.

Pan.

I do not care how thou do'st, is he well?

Bes.

Not care how I do? Let a man out of the mightiness of his spirit, fructifie Foreign Countries with his blood for the good of his own, and thus he shall be answered: Why I may live to relieve with spear and shield, such a Lady as you distressed.

Pan.

Why, I will care, I'me glad that thou art well, I prethee is he so?

Gob.

The King is well and will be here to morrow.

Pan.

My prayer is heard, now will I open mine.

Gob.

Bacurius, I must ease you of your charge: Madam, the wonted mercy of the King, That overtakes your faults, has met with this, And struck it out, he has forgiven you freely, Your own will is your law, be where you please.

Ara.

I thank him.

Gob.

You will be ready to wait upon his Majesty to morrow?

Ara.

I will.

[Exit Arane.

Bac.

Madam be wise hereafter; I am glad I have lost this Office.

Gob.

Good Captain Bessus, tell us the discourse betwixt Tigranes and our King, and how we got the victory.

Pan.

I prethee do, and if my Brother were In any danger, let not thy tale make Him abide there long before thou bring him off, For all that while my heart will beat.

Bes.

Madam let what will beat, I must tell the truth, and thus it was; they fought single in lists, but one to one; as for my own part, I was dangerously hurt but three days before, else, perhaps, we had been two to two, I cannot tell, some thought we had, and the occasion of my hurt was this, the enemy had made Trenches.

Gob.

Captain, without the manner of your hurt be much material to this business, we'l hear't some other time.

Pan.

I prethee leave it, and go on with my Brother.

Bes.

I will, but 'twould be worth your hearing: To the Lists they came, and single-sword and gantlet was their fight.

Pan.

Alas!

Bes.

Without the Lists there stood some dozen Captains of either side mingled, all which were sworn, and one of those was I: and 'twas my chance to stand next a Captain o'th' enemies side, called Tiribasus; Valiant they said he was; whilst these two Kings were streaching themselves, this Tiribasus cast something a scornful look on me, and ask't me who I thought would overcome: I smil'd and told him if he would fight with me, he should perceive by the event of that whose King would win: something he answered, and a scuffle was like to grow, when one Zipetus offered to help him, I—

Pan.

All this is of thy self, I pray thee Bessus tell something of my Brother, did he nothing?

Bes.

Why yes, I'le tell your Grace, they were not to fight till the word given, which for my own part, by my troth I confess I was not to give.

Pan.

See for his own part.

Bac.

I fear yet this fellow's abus'd with a good report.

Bes.

But I—

Pan.

Still of himself.

Bes.

Cri'd give the word, when as some of them say, Tigranes was stooping, but the word was not given then, yet one Cosroes of the enemies part, held up his finger to me, which is as much with us Martialists, as I will fight with you: I said not a word, nor made sign during the combate, but that once done.

Pan.

He slips o're all the fight.

Bes.

I call'd him to me, Cosroes said I.

Pan.

I will hear no more.

Bes.

No, no, I lie.

Bac.

I dare be sworn thou dost.

Bes.

Captain said I, so it was.

Pan.

I tell thee, I will hear no further.

Bes.

No? Your Grace will wish you had.

Pan.

I will not wish it, what is this the Lady My brother writes to me to take?

Bes.

And please your Grace this is she: Charge, will you come near the Princess?

Pan.

You'r welcome from your Country, and this land shall shew unto you all the kindness that I can make it; what's your name?

Spa.

Thalectris.

Pan.

Y'are very welcome, you have got a letter to put you to me, that has power enough to place mine enemy here; then much more you that are so far from being so to me that you ne're saw me.

Bes.

Madam, I dare pass my word for her truth.

Spa.

My truth?

Pan.

Why Captain, do you think I am afraid she'l steal?

Bes.

I cannot tell, servants are slippery, but I dare give my word for her, and for honesty, she came along with me, and many favours she did me by the way, but by this light none but what she might do with modesty, to a man of my rank.

Pan.

Why Captain, here's no body thinks otherwise.

Bes.

Nay, if you should, your Grace may think your pleasure; but I am sure I brought her from Armenia, and in all that way, if ever I touch'd any bare of her above her knee, I pray God I may sink where I stand.

Spa.

Above my knee?

Bes.

No, you know I did not, and if any man will say, I did, this sword shall answer; Nay, I'le defend the reputation of my charge whilst I live, your Grace shall understand I am secret in these businesses, and know how to defend a Ladies honour.

Spa.

I hope your Grace knows him so well already, I shall not need to tell you he's vain and foolish.

Bes.

I you may call me what you please, but I'le defend your good name against the world; and so I take my leave of your Grace, and of you my Lord Protector; I am likewise glad to see your Lordship well.

Bac.

O Captain Bessus, I thank you, I would speak with you anon.

Bes.

When you please, I will attend your Lordship.

Bac.

Madam, I'le take my leave too.

Pan.

Good Bacurius.

[Exeunt Bes. and Bac.

Gob.

Madam what writes his Majesty to you?

Pan.

O my Lord, the kindest words, I'le keep 'em whilst I live, here in my bosom, there's no art in 'em, they lie disordered in this paper, just as hearty nature speaks 'em.

Gob.

And to me he writes what tears of joy he shed to hear how you were grown in every vertues way, and yields all thanks to me, for that dear care which I was bound to have in training you, there is no Princess living that enjoys a brother of that worth.

Pan.

My Lord, no maid longs more for any thing, And feels more heat and cold within her breast, Than I do now, in hopes to see him.

Gob.

Yet I wonder much At this he writes, he brings along with him A husband for you, that same Captive Prince, And if he loves you as he makes a shew, He will allow you freedom in your choice.

Pan.

And so he will my Lord, I warrant you, he will but offer and give me the power to take or leave.

Gob.

Trust me, were I a Lady, I could not like that man were bargain'd with before I choose him.

Pan.

But I am not built on such wild humours, if I find him worthy, he is not less because he's offer'd.

Spa.

'Tis true, he is not, would he would seem less.

Gob.

I think there's no Lady can affect Another Prince, your brother standing by; He doth Eclipse mens vertues so with his.

Spa.

I know a Lady may, and more I fear Another Lady will.

Pan.

Would I might see him.

Gob.

Why so you shall, my businesses are great, I will attend you when it is his pleasure to see you.

Pan.

I thank you good my Lord.

Gob.

You will be ready Madam.

[Exit Gob.

Pan.

Yes.

Spa.

I do beseech you Madam, send away Your other women, and receive from me A few sad words, which set against your joyes May make 'em shine the more.

Pan.

Sirs, leave me all.

[Exeunt Women.

Spa.

I kneel a stranger here to beg a thing Unfit for me to ask, and you to grant, 'Tis such another strange ill-laid request, As if a begger should intreat a King To leave his Scepter, and his Throne to him And take his rags to wander o're the world Hungry and cold.

Pan.

That were a strange request.

Spa.

As ill is mine.

Pan. Then do not utter it.

Spa.

Alas 'tis of that nature, that it must Be utter'd, I, and granted, or I die: I am asham'd to speak it; but where life Lies at the stake, I cannot think her woman

That will not take something unreasonably to hazard saving of it: I shall seem a strange Petitioner, that wish all ill to them I beg of, e're they give me ought; yet so I must: I would you were not fair, nor wise, for in your ill consists my good: if you were foolish, you would hear my prayer, if foul, you had not power to hinder me: he would not love you.

Pan.

What's the meaning of it.

Spa.

Nay, my request is more without the bounds Of reason yet: for 'tis not in the power Of you to do, what I would have you grant.

Pan.

Why then 'tis idle, pray thee speak it out.

Spa.

Your brother brings a Prince into this land, Of such a noble shape, so sweet a grace, So full of worth withal, that every maid That looks upon him, gives away her self To him for ever; and for you to have He brings him: and so mad is my demand That I desire you not to have this man, This excellent man, for whom you needs must die, If you should miss him. I do now expect You should laugh at me.

Pan.

Trust me I could weep rather, for I have found him In all thy words a strange disjoynted sorrow.

Spa.

'Tis by me his own desire so, that you would not love him.

Pan.

His own desire! why credit me Thalestris, I am no common wooer: if he shall wooe me, his worth may be such, that I dare not swear I will not love him; but if he will stay to have me wooe him, I will promise thee, he may keep all his graces to himself, and fear no ravishing from me.

Spa.

'Tis yet his own desire, but when he sees your face, I fear it will not be; therefore I charge you as you have pity, stop these tender ears from his enchanting voice, close up those eyes, that you may neither catch a dart from him, nor he from you; I charge you as you hope to live in quiet; for when I am dead, for certain I will walk to visit him if he break promise with me: for as fast as Oaths without a formal Ceremony can make me, I am to him.

Pan.

Then be fearless; For if he were a thing 'twixt God and man, I could gaze on him; if I knew it sin To love him without passion: Dry your eyes, I swear you shall enjoy him still for me, I will not hinder you; but I perceive You are not what you seem, rise, rise Thalestris, If your right name be so.

Spa.

Indeed it is not, Spaconia is my name; but I desire not to be known to other.

Pan.

Why, by me you shall not, I will never do you wrong, what good I can, I will, think not my birth or education such, that I should injure a stranger Virgin; you are welcome hither, in company you wish to be commanded, but when we are alone, I shall be ready to be your servant.

[Exeunt.

Enter three Men and a Woman.

1.

Come, come, run, run, run.

2.

We shall out-go her.

3.

One were better be hang'd than carry out women fidling to these shews.

Wom.

Is the King hard by?

1.

You heard he with the Bottles said, he thought we should come too late: What abundance of people here is!

Wom.

But what had he in those Bottles?

3.

I know not.

2.

Why, Ink goodman fool.

3.

Ink, what to do?

1.

Why the King look you, will many times call for these Bottles, and break his mind to his friends.

Wom.

Let's take our places, we shall have no room else.

2.

The man told us he would walk o' foot through the people.

3.

I marry did he.

1.

Our shops are well look't to now.

2.

'Slife, yonder's my Master, I think.

1.

No 'tis not he.

Enter a man with two Citizens-wives.

1 Cit.

Lord how fine the fields be, what sweet living 'tis in the Country!

2 Cit.

I poor souls, God help 'em; they live as contentedly as one of us.

1 Cit.

My husbands Cousin would have had me gone into the Country last year, wert thou ever there?

2 Cit.

I, poor souls, I was amongst 'em once.

1 Cit.

And what kind of creatures are they, for love of God?

2 Cit.

Very good people, God help 'em.

1 Cit.

Wilt thou go down with me this Summer when I am brought to bed?

2 Cit.

Alas, it is no place for us.

1 Cit.

Why, pray thee?

2 Cit.

Why you can have nothing there, there's no body cryes brooms.

1 Cit.

No?

2 Cit.

No truly, nor milk.

1 Cit.

Nor milk, how do they?

2 Cit.

They are fain to milk themselves i'th' Country.

1 Cit.

Good Lord! but the people there, I think, will be very dutiful to one of us.

2 Cit.

I God knows will they, and yet they do not greatly care for our husbands.

1 Cit.

Do they not? Alas! I'good faith I cannot blame them: for we do not greatly care for them our selves. Philip, I pray choose us a place.

Phil.

There's the best forsooth.

1 Cit.

By your leave good people a little.

3.

What's the matter?

Phil.

I pray you my friend, do not thrust my Mistress so, she's with Child.

2.

Let her look to her self then, has she not had showing enough yet? if she stay shouldring here, she may haps go home with a cake in her belly.

3.

How now, goodman squitter-breech, why do you lean on me?

Phi.

Because I will.

3.

Will you Sir sawce-box?

1 Cit.

Look if one ha'not struck Philip, come hither Philip, why did he strike thee?

Phil.

For leaning on him.

1 Cit.

Why didst thou lean on him?

Phil.

I did not think he would have struck me.

1 Cit.

As God save me la thou'rt as wild as a Buck, there's no quarel but thou'rt at one end or other on't.

3.

It's at the first end then, for he'l ne'r stay the last.

1 Cit.

Well slip-string, I shall meet with you.

3.

When you will.

1 Cit.

I'le give a crown to meet with you.

3.

At a Bawdy-house.

1 Cit.

I you're full of your Roguery; but if I do meet you it shall cost me a fall.

Flourish. Enter one running.

4

The King, the King, the King. Now, now, now, now.

Flourish. Enter Arb. Tigr. The two Kings and Mardonius.

All.

God preserve your Majesty.

Arb.

I thank you all, now are my joyes at full, when I behold you safe, my loving Subjects; by you I grow, 'tis your united love that lifts me to this height: all the account that I can render you for all the love you have bestowed on me, all your expences to maintain my war, is but a little word, you will imagine 'tis slender paiment, yet 'tis such a word, as is not to be bought but with your bloods, 'tis Peace.

All.

God preserve your Majesty.

Arb.

Now you may live securely i'your Towns, Your Children round about you; may sit Under your Vines, and make the miseries Of other Kingdoms a discourse for you, And lend them sorrows; for your selves, you may Safely forget there are such things as tears, And you may all whose good thoughts I have gain'd, Hold me unworthy, where I think my life A sacrifice too great to keep you thus In such a calm estate.

All.

God bless your Majesty.

Arb.

See all good people, I have brought the man whose very name you fear'd, a captive home; behold him, 'tis Tigranes; in your heart sing songs of gladness, and deliverance.

1 Cit.

Out upon him.

2 Cit.

How he looks.

3 Wom.

Hang him, hang him.

Mar.

These are sweet people.

Tigr.

Sir, you do me wrong, to render me a scorned spectacle to common people.

Arb.

It was so far from me to mean it so: if I have ought deserv'd, my loving Subjects, let me beg of you, not to revile this Prince, in whom there dwells all worth of which the name of a man is capable, valour beyond compare, the terrour of his name has stretcht it self where ever there is sun; and yet for you I fought with him single, and won him too; I made his valour stoop, and brought that name soar'd to so unbeliev'd a height, to fall beneath mine: this inspir'd with all your loves, I did perform, and will for your content, be ever ready for a greater work.

All.

The Lord bless your Majesty.

Tigr.

So he has made me amends now with a speech in commendation of himself: I would not be so vain-glorious.

Arb.

If there be any thing in which I may Do good to any creature, here speak out; For I must leave you: and it troubles me, That my occasions for the good of you, Are such as call me from you: else, my joy Would be to spend my days among you all. You shew your loves in these large multitudes That come to meet me, I will pray for you, Heaven prosper you, that you may know old years, And live to see your childrens children sit At your boards with plenty: when there is A want of any thing, let it be known To me, and I will be a Father to you: God keep you all.

[ Flourish. Exeunt Kings and their Train.

All.

God bless your Majesty, God bless your Majesty.

1.

Come, shall we go? all's done.

Wom.

I for God sake, I have not made a fire yet.

2.

Away, away, all's done.

3.

Content, farewel Philip.

1 Cit.

Away you halter-sack you.

2.

Philip will not fight, he's afraid on's face.

Phil.

I marry am I afraid of my face.

3.

Thou wouldst be Philip if thou sawst it in a glass; it looks so like a Visour.

[Exeunt 2., 3., and Woman.

1 Cit.

You'l be hang'd sirra: Come Philip walk before us homewards; did not his Majesty say he had brought us home Pease for all our money?

2 Cit.

Yes marry did he.

1 Cit.

They're the first I heard of this year by my troth, I longed for some of 'em: did he not say we should have some?

2 Cit.

Yes, and so we shall anon I warrant you have every one a peck brought home to our houses.



Actus Tertius.

Enter Arbaces and Gobrias.

Arb.

My Sister take it ill?

Gob.

Not very ill. Something unkindly she does take it Sir to have Her Husband chosen to her hands.

Arb.

Why Gobrias let her, I must have her know, my will and not her own must govern her: what will she marry with some slave at home?

Gob.

O she is far from any stubbornness, you much mistake her, and no doubt will like where you would have her, but when you behold her, you will be loth to part with such a jewel.

Arb.

To part with her? why Gobrias, art thou mad? she is my Sister.

Gob.

Sir, I know she is: but it were pity to make poor our Land, with such a beauty to enrich another.

Arb.

Pish will she have him?

Gob.

I do hope she will not, I think she will Sir.

Arb.

Were she my Father and my Mother too, and all the names for which we think folks friends, she should be forc't to have him when I know 'tis fit: I will not hear her say she's loth.

Gob.

Heaven bring my purpose luckily to pass, you know 'tis just, she will not need constraint she loves you so.

Arb.

How does she love me, speak?

Gob.

She loves you more than people love their health, that live by labour; more than I could love a man that died for me, if he could live again.

Arb.

She is not like her mother then.

Gob.

O no, when you were in Armenia, I durst not let her know when you were hurt: For at the first on every little scratch, She kept her Chamber, wept, and could not eat, Till you were well, and many times the news Was so long coming, that before we heard She was as near her death, as you your health.

Arb.

Alas poor soul, but yet she must be rul'd; I know not how I shall requite her well. I long to see her, have you sent for her, To tell her I am ready?

Gob.

Sir I have.

Enter 1 Gent, and Tigranes.

1 Gent.

Sir, here is the Armenian King.

Arb.

He's welcome.

1 Gent.

And the Queen-mother, and the Princess wait without.

Arb.

Good Gobrias bring 'em in. Tigranes, you will think you are arriv'd In a strange Land, where Mothers cast to poyson Their only Sons; think you you shall be safe?

Tigr.

Too safe I am Sir.

Enter Gobrias, Arane, Panthea, Spaconia, Bacurius, Mardonius and Bessus, and two Gentlemen.

Ara.

As low as this I bow to you, and would As low as is my grave, to shew a mind Thankful for all your mercies.

Arb.

O stand up, And let me kneel, the light will be asham'd To see observance done to me by you.

Ara.

You are my King.

Arb.

You are my Mother, rise; As far be all your faults from your own soul, As from my memory; then you shall be As white as innocence her self.

Ara.

I came Only to shew my duty, and acknowledge My sorrows for my sins; longer to stay Were but to draw eyes more attentively Upon my shame, that power that kept you safe From me, preserve you still.

Arb.

Your own desires shall be your guide.

[Exit Arane.

Pan.

Now let me die, since I have seen my Lord the King Return in safetie, I have seen all good that life Can shew me; I have ne're another wish For Heaven to grant, nor were it fit I should; For I am bound to spend my age to come, In giving thanks that this was granted me.

Gob.

Why does not your Majesty speak?

Arb.

To whom?

Gob.

To the Princess.

Pan.

Alas Sir, I am fearful, you do look On me, as if I were some loathed thing That you were finding out a way to shun.

Gob.

Sir, you should speak to her.

Arb.

Ha?

Pan.

I know I am unworthy, yet not ill arm'd, with which innocence here I will kneel, till I am one with earth, but I will gain some words and kindness from you.

Tigr.

Will you speak Sir?

Arb.

Speak, am I what I was? What art thou that dost creep into my breast, And dar'st not see my face? shew forth thy self: I feel a pair of fiery wings displai'd Hither, from hence; you shall not tarry there, Up, and be gone, if thou beest Love be gone: Or I will tear thee from my wounded breast, Pull thy lov'd Down away, and with thy Quill By this right arm drawn from thy wonted wing, Write to thy laughing Mother i'thy bloud, That you are powers bely'd, and all your darts Are to be blown away, by men resolv'd, Like dust; I know thou fear'st my words, away.

Tigr.

O misery! why should he be so slow? There can no falshood come of loving her; Though I have given my faith; she is a thing Both to be lov'd and serv'd beyond my faith: I would he would present me to her quickly.

Pan.

Will you not speak at all? are you so far From kind words? yet to save my modesty, That must talk till you answer, do not stand As you were dumb, say something, though it be Poyson'd with anger, that it may strike me dead.

Mar.

Have you no life at all? for man-hood sake Let her not kneel, and talk neglected thus; A tree would find a tongue to answer her, Did she but give it such a lov'd respect.

Arb.

You mean this Lady: lift her from the earth; why do you let her kneel so long? Alas, Madam, your beauty uses to command, and not to beg. What is your sute to me? it shall be granted, yet the time is short, and my affairs are great: but where's my Sister? I bade she should be brought.

Mar.

What, is he mad?

_Arb.

Gobrias,_ where is she?

Gob.

Sir.

Arb.

Where is she man?

Gob.

Who, Sir?

Arb.

Who, hast thou forgot my Sister?

Gob.

Your Sister, Sir?

Arb.

Your Sister, Sir? some one that hath a wit, answer, where is she?

Gob.

Do you not see her there?

Arb.

Where?

Gob.

There.

Arb.

There, where?

Mar.

S'light, there, are you blind?

Arb.

Which do you mean, that little one?

Gob.

No Sir.

Arb.

No Sir? why, do you mock me? I can see No other here, but that petitioning Lady.

Gob.

That's she.

Arb.

Away.

Gob.

Sir, it is she.

Arb.

'Tis false.

Gob.

Is it?

Arb.

As hell, by Heaven, as false as hell, My Sister: is she dead? if it be so, Speak boldly to me; for I am a man, And dare not quarrel with Divinity; And do not think to cozen me with this: I see you all are mute and stand amaz'd, Fearful to answer me; it is too true, A decreed instant cuts off ev'ry life, For which to mourn, is to repine; she dy'd A Virgin, though more innocent than sheep, As clear as her own eyes, and blessedness Eternal waits upon her where she is: I know she could not make a wish to change Her state for new, and you shall see me bear My crosses like a man; we all must die, And she hath taught us how.

Gob.

Do not mistake, And vex your self for nothing; for her death Is a long life off, I hope: 'Tis she, And if my speech deserve not faith, lay death Upon me, and my latest words shall force A credit from you.

Arb.

Which, good Gobrias? that Lady dost thou mean?

Gob.

That Lady Sir, She is your Sister, and she is your Sister That loves you so, 'tis she for whom I weep, To see you use her thus.

Arb.

It cannot be.

Tigr.

Pish, this is tedious, I cannot hold, I must present my self, And yet the sight of my Spaconia Touches me, as a sudden thunder-clap Does one that is about to sin.

Arb.

Away, No more of this; here I pronounce him Traytor, The direct plotter of my death, that names Or thinks her for my Sister, 'tis a lie, The most malicious of the world, invented To mad your King; he that will say so next, Let him draw out his sword and sheath it here, It is a sin fully as pardonable: She is no kin to me, nor shall she be; If she were ever, I create her none: And which of you can question this? My power Is like the Sea, that is to be obey'd, And not disputed with: I have decreed her As far from having part of blood with me, As the nak'd indians; come and answer me, He that is boldest now; is that my Sister?

Mar.

O this is fine.

Bes.

No marry, she is not, an't please your Majesty, I never thought she was, she's nothing like you.

Arb.

No 'tis true, she is not.

Mar.

Thou shou'dst be hang'd.

Pan.

Sir, I will speak but once; by the same power You make my blood a stranger unto yours, You may command me dead, and so much love A stranger may importune, pray you do; If this request appear too much to grant, Adopt me of some other Family, By your unquestion'd word; else I shall live Like sinfull issues that are left in streets By their regardless Mothers, and no name Will be found for me.

Arb.

I will hear no more, Why should there be such musick in a voyce, And sin for me to hear it? All the world May take delight in this, and 'tis damnation For me to do so: You are fair and wise And vertuous I think, and he is blest That is so near you as my brother is; But you are nought to me but a disease; Continual torment without hope of ease; Such an ungodly sickness I have got, That he that undertakes my cure, must first O'rethrow Divinity, all moral Laws, And leave mankind as unconfin'd as beasts, Allowing 'em to do all actions As freely as they drink when they desire. Let me not hear you speak again; yet see I shall but lang[u]ish for the want of that, The having which, would kill me: No man here Offer to speak for her; for I consider As much as you can say; I will not toil My body and my mind too, rest thou there, Here's one within will labour for you both.

Pan.

I would I were past speaking.

Gob.

Fear not Madam, The King will alter, 'tis some sudden rage, And you shall see it end some other way.

Pan.

Pray heaven it do.

Tig.

Though she to whom I swore, be here, I cannot Stifle my passion longer; if my father Should rise again disquieted with this, And charge me to forbear, yet it would out. Madam, a stranger, and a pris'ner begs To be bid welcome.

Pan.

You are welcome, Sir, I think, but if you be not, 'tis past me To make you so: for I am here a stranger, Greater than you; we know from whence you come, But I appear a lost thing, and by whom Is yet uncertain, found here i'th' Court, And onely suffer'd to walk up and down, As one not worth the owning.

Spa.

O, I fear Tigranes will be caught, he looks, me-thinks, As he would change his eyes with her; some help There is above for me, I hope.

Tigr.

Why do you turn away, and weep so fast, And utter things that mis-become your looks, Can you want owning?

Spa.

O 'tis certain so.

Tigr.

Acknowledge your self mine.

Arb.

How now?

Tigr.

And then see if you want an owner.

Arb.

They are talking.

Tigr.

Nations shall owne you for their Queen.

Arb.

Tigranes, art not thou my prisoner?

Tigr.

I am.

Arb.

And who is this?

Tigr.

She is your Sister.

Arb.

She is so.

Mar.

Is she so again? that's well.

Arb.

And then how dare you offer to change words with her?

Tigr.

Dare do it! Why? you brought me hither Sir, To that intent.

Arb.

Perhaps I told you so, If I had sworn it, had you so much folly To credit it? The least word that she speaks Is worth a life; rule your disordered tongue, Or I will temper it.

Spa.

Blest be the breath.

Tigr.

Temper my tongue! such incivilities As these, no barbarous people ever knew: You break the lawes of Nature, and of Nations, You talk to me as if I were a prisoner For theft: my tongue be temper'd? I must speak If thunder check me, and I will.

Arb.

You will?

Spa.

Alas my fortune.

Tigr.

Do not fear his frown, dear Madam, hear me.

Arb.

Fear not my frown? but that 'twere base in me To fight with one I know I can o'recome, Again thou shouldst be conquer'd by me.

Mar.

He has one ransome with him already; me-thinks 'T were good to fight double, or quit.

Arb.

Away with him to prison: Now Sir, see If my frown be regardless; Why delay you? Seise him Bacurius, you shall know my word Sweeps like a wind, and all it grapples with, Are as the chaffe before it.

Tigr.

Touch me not.

Arb.

Help there.

Tigr.

Away.

1 Gent.

It is in vain to struggle.

2 Gent.

You must be forc'd.

Bac.

Sir, you must pardon us, we must obey.

Arb.

Why do you dally there? drag him away By any thing.

Bac.

Come Sir.

Tigr.

Justice, thou ought'st to give me strength enough To shake all these off; This is tyrannie, Arbaces, sutler than the burning Bulls, Or that fam'd Titans bed. Thou mightst as well Search i'th' deep of Winter through the snow For half starv'd people, to bring home with thee, To shew 'em fire, and send 'em back again, As use me thus.

Arb.

Let him be close, Bacurius.

[Exeunt Tigr. And Bac.

Spa.

I ne're rejoyc'd at any ill to him, But this imprisonment: what shall become Of me forsaken?

Gob.

You will not let your Sister Depart thus discontented from you, Sir?

Arb.

By no means Gobrias, I have done her wrong, And made my self believe much of my self, That is not in me: You did kneel to me, Whilest I stood stubborn and regardless by, And like a god incensed, gave no ear To all your prayers: behold, I kneel to you, Shew a contempt as large as was my own, And I will suffer it, yet at the last forgive me.

Pan.

O you wrong me more in this, Than in your rage you did: you mock me now.

Arb.

Never forgive me then, which is the worst Can happen to me.

Pan.

If you be in earnest, Stand up and give me but a gentle look, And two kind words, and I shall be in heaven.

Arb.

Rise you then to hear; I acknowledge thee My hope, the only jewel of my life, The best of Sisters, dearer than my breath, A happiness as high as I could think; And when my actions call thee otherwise, Perdition light upon me.

Pan.

This is better Than if you had not frown'd, it comes to me, Like mercie at the block, and when I leave To serve you with my life, your curse be with me.

Arb.

Then thus I do salute thee, and again, To make this knot the stronger, Paradise Is there: It may be you are yet in doubt, This third kiss blots it out, I wade in sin, And foolishly intice my self along; Take her away, see her a prisoner In her own chamber closely, Gobrias.

Pan.

Alas Sir, why?

Arb.

I must not stay the answer, doe it.

Gob.

Good Sir.

Arb.

No more, doe it I say.

Mard.

This is better and better.

Pan.

Yet hear me speak.

Arb.

I will not hear you speak, Away with her, let no man think to speak For such a creature; for she is a witch, A prisoner, and a Traitor.

Gob.

Madam, this office grieves me.

Pan.

Nay, 'tis well the king is pleased with it.

Arb.

Bessus, go you along too with her; I will prove All this that I have said, if I may live So long; but I am desperately sick, For she has given me poison in a kiss; She had't betwixt her lips, and with her eyes She witches people: go without a word.

[Exeunt Gob. Pan. Bes. And Spaconia.

Why should you that have made me stand in war Like fate it self, cutting what threds I pleas'd, Decree such an unworthy end of me, And all my glories? What am I, alas, That you oppose me? if my secret thoughts Have ever harbour'd swellings against you, They could not hurt you, and it is in you To give me sorrow, that will render me Apt to receive your mercy; rather so, Let it be rather so, than punish me With such unmanly sins: Incest is in me Dwelling already, and it must be holy That pulls it thence, where art Mardonius?

Mar.

Here Sir.

Arb.

I pray thee bear me, if thou canst, Am I not grown a strange weight?

Mar.

As you were.

Arb.

No heavier?

Mar.

No Sir.

Arb.

Why, my legs Refuse to bear my body; O Mardonius, Thou hast in field beheld me, when thou knowst I could have gone, though I could never run.

Mar.

And so I shall again.

Arb.

O no, 'tis past.

Mar.

Pray you go rest your self.

Arb.

Wilt thou hereafter when they talk of me, As thou shalt hear nothing but infamy, Remember some of those things?

Mar.

Yes I will.

Arb.

I pray thee do: for thou shalt never see me so again.

[Exeunt.

Enter Bessus alone.

Bes.

They talk of fame, I have gotten it in the wars; and will afford any man a reasonable penny-worth: some will say, they could be content to have it, but that it is to be atchiev'd with danger; but my opinion is otherwise: for if I might stand still in Cannon-proof, and have fame fall upon me, I would refuse it: my reputation came principally by thinking to run away, which no body knows but Mardonius, and I think he conceals it to anger me. Before I went to the warrs, I came to the Town a young fellow, without means or parts to deserve friends; and my empty guts perswaded me to lie, and abuse people for my meat, which I did, and they beat me: then would I fast two days, till my hunger cri'd out on me, rail still, then me-thought I had a monstrous stomach to abuse 'em again, and did it. I, this state I continu'd till they hung me up by th' heels, and beat me wi' hasle sticks, as if they would have baked me, and have cousen'd some body wi'me for Venison: After this I rail'd, and eat quietly: for the whole Kingdom took notice of me for a baffl'd whipt fellow, and what I said was remembred in mirth but never in anger, of which I was glad; I would it were at that pass again. After this, heaven calls an Aunt of mine, that left two hundred pound in a cousins hand for me, who taking me to be a gallant young spirit, raised a company for me with the money and sent me into Armenia with 'em: Away I would have run from them, but that I could get no company, and alone I durst not run. I was never at battail but once, and there I was running, but Mardonius cudgel'd me; yet I got loose at last, but was so fraid, that I saw no more than my shoulders doe, but fled with my whole company amongst my Enemies, and overthrew 'em: Now the report of my valour is come over before me, and they say I was a raw young fellow, but now I am improv'd, a Plague on their eloquence, 't will cost me many a beating; And Mardonius might help this too, if he would; for now they think to get honour on me, and all the men I have abus'd call me freshly worthily, as they call it by the way of challenge.

Enter a Gent.

3 Gent.

Good morrow, Captain Bessus.

Bes.

Good morrow Sir.

3 Gent.

I come to speak with you.

Bes.

You're very welcome.

3 Gent.

From one that holds himself wrong'd by you some three years since: your worth he says is fam'd, and he doth nothing doubt but you will do him right, as beseems a souldier.

Bes.

A pox on 'em, so they cry all.

3 Gent.

And a slight note I have about me for you, for the delivery of which you must excuse me; it is an office that friendship calls upon me to do, and no way offensive to you; since I desire but right on both sides.

Bes.

'Tis a challenge Sir, is it not?

3 Gent.

'Tis an inviting to the field.

Bes.

An inviting? O Sir your Mercy, what a Complement he delivers it with? he might as agreeable to my nature present me poison with such a speech: um um um reputation, um um um call you to account, um um um forc'd to this, um um um with my Sword, um um um like a Gentleman, um um um dear to me, um um um satisfaction: 'Tis very well Sir, I do accept it, but he must await an answer this thirteen weeks.

3 Gent.

Why Sir, he would be glad to wipe off his stain as soon as he could.

Bes.

Sir upon my credit I am already ingag'd to two hundred, and twelve, all which must have their stains wip'd off, if that be the word, before him.

3 Gent.

Sir, if you be truly ingag'd but to one, he shall stay a competent time.

Bes.

Upon my faith Sir, to two hundred and twelve, and I have a spent body, too much bruis'd in battel, so that I cannot fight, I must be plain, above three combats a day: All the kindness I can shew him, is to set him resolvedly in my rowle, the two hundred and thirteenth man, which is something, for I tell you, I think there will be more after him, than before him, I think so; pray you commend me to him, and tell him this.

3 Gent.

I will Sir, good morrow to you.

[Exit 3 Gent.

Bes.

Good morrow good Sir. Certainly my safest way were to print my self a coward, with a discovery how I came by my credit, and clap it upon every post; I have received above thirty challenges within this two hours, marry all but the first I put off with ingagement, and by good fortune, the first is no madder of fighting than I, so that that's referred, the place where it must be ended, is four days journey off, and our arbitratours are these: He has chosen a Gentleman in travel, and I have a special friend with a quartain ague, like to hold him this five years, for mine: and when his man comes home, we are to expect my friends health: If they would finde me challenges thus thick, as long as I liv'd, I would have no other living; I can make seven shillings a day o'th' paper to the Grocers: yet I learn nothing by all these but a little skill in comparing of stiles. I do finde evidently, that there is some one Scrivener in this Town, that has a great hand in writing of Challenges, for they are all of a cut, and six of 'em in a hand; and they all end, my reputation is dear to me, and I must require satisfaction: Who's there? more paper I hope, no, 'tis my Lord Bacurius, I fear all is not well betwixt us.

Enter Bacurius.

Bac.

Now Captain Bessus, I come about a frivolous matter, caus'd by as idle a report: you know you were a coward.

Bes.

Very right.

Bac.

And wronged me.

Bes.

True my Lord.

Bac.

But now people will call you valiant, desertlesly I think, yet for their satisfaction, I will have you fight with me.

Bes.

O my good Lord, my deep Engagements.

Bac.

Tell not me of your Engagements, Captain Bessus, it is not to be put off with an excuse: for my own part, I am none of the multitude that believe your conversion from Coward.

Bes.

My Lord, I seek not Quarrels, and this belongs not to me, I am not to maintain it.

Bac.

Who then pray?

Bes.

Bessus the Coward wrong'd you.

Bac.

Right.

Bes.

And shall Bessus the Valiant, maintain what Bessus the Coward did?

Bac.

I pray thee leave these cheating tricks, I swear thou shalt fight with me, or thou shall be beaten extreamly, and kick'd.

Bes.

Since you provoke me thus far, my Lord, I will fight with you, and by my Sword it shall cost me twenty pound, but I will have my Leg well a week sooner purposely.

Bac.

Your Leg? Why, what ailes your Leg? i'le do a cure on you, stand up.

Bes.

My Lord, this is not Noble in you.

Bac.

What dost thou with such a phrase in thy mouth? I will kick thee out of all good words before I leave thee.

Bes.

My Lord, I take this as a punishment for the offence I did when I was a Coward.

Bac.

When thou wert? Confess thy self a Coward still, or by this light, I'le beat thee into Spunge.

Bes.

Why I am one.

Bac.

Are you so Sir? And why do you wear a Sword then? Come unbuckle.

Bes.

My Lord.

Bac.

Unbuckle I say, and give it me, or as I live, thy head will ake extreamly.

Bes.

It is a pretty Hilt, and if your Lordship take an affection to it, with all my heart I present it to you for a New-years-gift.

Bac.

I thank you very heartily, sweet Captain, farewel.

Bes.

One word more, I beseech your Lordship to render me my knife again.

Bac.

Marry by all means Captain; cherish your self with it, and eat hard, good Captain; we cannot tell whether we shall have any more such: Adue dear Captain.

[Exit Bac.

Bes.

I will make better use of this, than of my Sword: A base spirit has this vantage of a brave one, it keeps alwayes at a stay, nothing brings it down, not beating. I remember I promis'd the King in a great Audience, that I would make my back-biters eat my sword to a knife; how to get another sword I know not, nor know any means left for me to maintain my credit, but impudence: therefore I will out-swear him and all his followers, that this is all that's left uneaten of my sword.

[Exit Bessus.

Enter Mardonius.

Mar.

I'le move the King, he is most strangely alter'd; I guess the cause I fear too right, Heaven has some secret end in't, and 'tis a scourge no question justly laid upon him: he has followed me through twenty Rooms; and ever when I stay to wait his command, he blushes like a Girl, and looks upon me, as if modesty kept in his business: so turns away from me, but if I go on, he follows me again.

Enter Arbaces.

See, here he is. I do not use this, yet I know not how, I cannot chuse but weep to see him; his very Enemies I think, whose wounds have bred his fame, if they should see him now, would find tears i'their eyes.

Arb.

I cannot utter it, why should I keep A breast to harbour thoughts? I dare not speak. Darkness is in my bosom, and there lie A thousand thoughts that cannot brook the light: How wilt thou vex 'em when this deed is done, Conscience, that art afraid to let me name it?

Mar.

How do you Sir?

Arb.

Why very well Mardonius, how dost thou do?

Mar.

Better than you I fear.

Arb.

I hope thou art; for to be plain with thee, Thou art in Hell else, secret scorching flames That far transcend earthly material fires Are crept into me, and there is no cure. Is it not strange Mardonius, there's no cure?

Mar.

Sir, either I mistake, or there is something hid That you would utter to me.

Arb.

So there is, but yet I cannot do it.

Mar.

Out with it Sir, if it be dangerous, I will not shrink to do you service, I shall not esteem my life a weightier matter than indeed it is, I know it is subject to more chances than it has hours, and I were better lose it in my Kings cause, than with an ague, or a fall, or sleeping, to a Thief; as all these are probable enough: let me but know what I shall do for you.

Arb.

It will not out: were you with Gobrias, And bad him give my Sister all content The place affords, and give her leave to send And speak to whom she please?

Mar.

Yes Sir, I was.

Arb.

And did you to Bacurius say as much About Tigranes?

Mar.

Yes.

Arb.

That's all my business.

Mar.

O say not so, You had an answer of this before; Besides I think this business might Be utter'd more carelesly.

Arb.

Come thou shalt have it out, I do beseech thee By all the love thou hast profest to me, To see my Sister from me.

Mar.

Well, and what?

Arb.

That's all.

Mar.

That's strange, I shall say nothing to her?

Arb.

Not a word; But if thou lovest me, find some subtil way To make her understand by signs.

Mar.

But what shall I make her understand?

Arb.

O Mardonius, for that I must be pardon'd.

Mar.

You may, but I can only see her then.

Arb.

'Tis true; Bear her this Ring then, and One more advice, thou shall speak to her: Tell her I do love My kindred all: wilt thou?

Mar.

Is there no more?

Arb.

O yes and her the best; Better than any Brother loves his Sister: That's all.

Mar.

Methinks this need not have been delivered with such a caution; I'le do it.

Arb.

There is more yet, Wilt thou be faith[f]ul to me?

Mar.

Sir, if I take upon me to deliver it, after I hear it, I'le pass through fire to do it.

Arb.

I love her better than a Brother ought; Dost thou conceive me?

Mar.

I hope you do not Sir.

Arb.

No, thou art dull, kneel down before her, And ne'r rise again, till she will love me.

Mar.

Why, I think she does.

Arb.

But better than she does, another way; As wives love Husbands.

Mar.

Why, I think there are few Wives that love their Husbands better than she does you.

Arb.

Thou wilt not understand me: is it fit This should be uttered plainly? take it then Naked as it is: I would desire her love Lasciviously, lewdly, incestuously, To do a sin that needs must damn us both, And thee too: dost thou understand me now?

Mar.

Yes, there's your Ring again; what have I done Dishonestly in my whole life, name it, That you should put so base a business to me?

Arb.

Didst thou not tell me thou wouldst do it?

Mar.

Yes; if I undertook it, but if all My hairs were lives, I would not be engag'd In such a case to save my last life.

Arb.

O guilt! ha how poor and weak a thing art thou! This man that is my servant, whom my breath Might blow upon the world, might beat me here Having this cause, whil'st I prest down with sin Could not resist him: hear Mardonius, It was a motion mis-beseeming man, And I am sorry for it.

Mar.

Heaven grant you may be so: you must understand, nothing that you can utter, can remove my love and service from my Prince. But otherwise, I think I shall not love you more. For you are sinful, and if you do this crime, you ought to have no Laws. For after this, it will be great injustice in you to punish any offender for any crime. For my self I find my heart too big: I feel I have not patience to look on whilst you run these forbidden courses. Means I have none but your favour, and I am rather glad that I shall lose 'em both together, than keep 'em with such conditions; I shall find a dwelling amongst some people, where though our Garments perhaps be courser, we shall be richer far within, and harbour no such vices in 'em: the Gods preserve you, and mend.

Arb.

Mardonius, stay Mardonius, for though My present state requires nothing but knaves To be about me, such as are prepar'd For every wicked act, yet who does know But that my loathed Fate may turn about, And I have use for honest men again? I hope I may, I prethee leave me not.

Enter Bessus.

Bes.

Where is the King?

Mar.

There.

Bes.

An't please your Majesty, there's the knife.

Arb.

What knife?

Bes.

The Sword is eaten.

Mar.

Away you fool, the King is serious, And cannot now admit your vanities.

Bes.

Vanities! I'me no honest man, if my enemies have not brought it to this, what, do you think I lie?

Arb.

No, no, 'tis well Bessus, 'tis very well I'm glad on't.

Mar.

If your enemies brought it to this, your enemies are Cutlers, come leave the King.

Bes.

Why, may not valour approach him?

Mar.

Yes, but he has affairs, depart, or I shall be something unmannerly with you.

Arb.

No, let him stay Mardonius, let him stay, I have occasion with him very weighty, And I can spare you now.

Mar.

Sir?

Arb.

Why I can spare you now.

Bes.

Mardonius give way to these State affairs.

Mar.

Indeed you are fitter for this present purpose.

[Exit Mar.

Arb.

Bessus, I should imploy thee, wilt thou do't?

Bes.

Do't for you? by this Air I will do any thing without exception, be it a good, bad, or indifferent thing.

Arb.

Do not swear.

Bes.

By this light but I will, any thing whatsoever.

Arb.

But I shall name the thing, Thy Conscience will not suffer thee to do.

Bes.

I would fain hear that thing.

Arb.

Why I would have thee get my Sister for me? Thou understandst me, in a wicked manner.

Bes.

O you would have a bout with her? I'le do't, I'le do't, I'faith.

Arb.

Wilt thou, do'st thou make no more on't? Bes. More? no, why is there any thing else? if there be, it shall be done too.

Arb.

Hast thou no greater sense of such a sin? Thou art too wicked for my company, Though I have hell within me, thou may'st yet Corrupt me further: pray thee answer me, How do I shew to thee after this motion?

Bes.

Why your Majesty looks as well in my opinion, as ever you did since you were born.

Arb.

But thou appear'st to me after thy grant, The ugliest, loathed detestable thing That I ever met with. Thou hast eyes Like the flames of Sulphur, which me thinks do dart Infection on me, and thou hast a mouth Enough to take me in where there do stand Four rows of Iron Teeth.

Bes.

I feel no such thing, but 'tis no matter how I look, Pie do my business as well as they that look better, and when this is dispatch'd, if you have a mind to your Mother, tell me, and you shall see I'le set it hard.

Arb.

My Mother! Heaven forgive me to hear this, I am inspir'd with horrour: now I hate thee Worse than my sin, which if I could come by Should suffer death Eternal ne're to rise In any breast again. Know I will die Languishing mad, as I resolve, I shall, E're I will deal by such an instrument: Thou art too sinful to imploy in this; Out of the World, away.

Bes.

What do you mean, Sir?

Arb.

Hung round with Curses, take thy fearful flight Into the Desarts, where 'mongst all the Monsters If thou find'st one so beastly as thy self, Thou shalt be held as innocent.

Bes.

Good Sir.

Arb.

If there were no such instruments as thou, We Kings could never act such wicked deeds: Seek out a man that mocks Divinity, That breaks each precept both of God and man, And natures too, and does it without lust, Meerly because it is a law, and good, And live with him: for him thou canst not spoil. Away I say, I will not do this sin.

[Exit Bessus.

I'le press it here, till it do break my breast, It heaves to get out, but thou art a sin, And spight of torture I will keep thee in.



ACTUS QUARTUS.

Enter Gobrias, Panthea, and Spaconia.

Gob.

Have you written Madam?

Pan.

Yes, good Gobrias.

Gob.

And with a kindness, and such winning words As may provoke him, at one instant feel His double fault, your wrong, and his own rashness?

Pan.

I have sent words enough, if words may win him From his displeasure; and such words I hope, As shall gain much upon his goodness, Gobrias. Yet fearing they are many, and a womans, A poor belief may follow, I have woven As many truths within 'em to speak for me, That if he be but gracious, and receive 'em—

Gob.

Good Lady be not fearful, though he should not Give you your present end in this, believe it, You shall feel, if your vertue can induce you To labour on't, this tempest which I know, Is but a poor proof 'gainst your patience: All those contents, your spirit will arrive at, Newer and sweeter to you; your Royal brother, When he shall once collect himself, and see How far he has been asunder from himself; What a meer stranger to his golden temper: Must from those roots of vertue, never dying, Though somewhat stopt with humour, shoot again Into a thousand glories, bearing his fair branches High as our hopes can look at, straight as justice, Loaden with ripe contents; he loves you dearly, I know it, and I hope I need not farther Win you to understand it.

Pan.

I believe it. But howsoever, I am sure I love him dearly: So dearly, that if any thing I write For my enlarging should beget his anger, Heaven be a witness with me and my faith, I had rather live intomb'd here.

Gob.

You shall not feel a worse stroke than your grief, I am sorry 'tis so sharp, I kiss your hand, And this night will deliver this true story, With this hand to your Brother.

Pan.

Peace go with you, you are a good man.

[Exit Gob.

My Spaconia, why are you ever sad thus?

Spa.

O dear Lady.

Pan.

Prethee discover not a way to sadness, Nearer than I have in me, our two sorrows Work like two eager Hawks, who shall get highest; How shall I lessen thine? for mine I fear Is easier known than cur'd.

Spa.

Heaven comfort both, And give you happy ends, however I Fall in my stubborn fortunes.

Pan.

This but teaches How to be more familiar with our sorrows, That are too much our masters: good Spaconia How shall I do you service?

Spa.

Noblest Lady, You make me more a slave still to your goodness, And only live to purchase thanks to pay you, For that is all the business of my life: now I will be bold, since you will have it so, To ask a noble favour of you.

Pan.

Speak it, 'tis yours, for from so sweet a vertue, No ill demand has issue.

Spa.

Then ever vertuous, let me beg your will In helping me to see the Prince Tigranes, With whom I am equal prisoner, if not more.

Pan.

Reserve me to a greater end Spaconia; Bacurius cannot want so much good manners As to deny your gentle visitation, Though you came only with your own command.

Spa.

I know they will deny me gracious Madam, Being a stranger, and so little fam'd, So utter empty of those excellencies That tame Authority; but in you sweet Lady, All these are natural; beside, a power Deriv'd immediate from your Royal brother, Whose least word in you may command the Kingdom.

Pan.

More than my word Spaconia, you shall carry, For fear it fail you.

Spa.

Dare you trust a Token? Madam I fear I am grown too bold a begger.

Pan.

You are a pretty one, and trust me Lady It joyes me, I shall do a good to you, Though to my self I never shall be happy: Here, take this Ring, and from me as a Token Deliver it; I think they will not stay you: So all your own desires go with you Lady.

Spa.

And sweet peace to your Grace.

Pan.

Pray Heaven I find it.

[Exeunt.

Enter Tigranes, in prison.

Tigr.

Fool that I am, I have undone my self, And with my own hand turn'd my fortune round, That was a fair one: I have childishly Plaid with my hope so long, till I have broke it, And now too late I mourn for't; O Spaconia! Thou hast found an even way to thy revenge now, Why didst thou follow me like a faint shadow, To wither my desires? But wretched fool, Why did I plant thee 'twixt the Sun and me, To make me freeze thus? Why did I prefer her To the fair Princess? O thou fool, thou fool, Thou family of fools, live like a slave still, And in thee bear thine own hell and thy torment, Thou hast deserv'd: Couldst thou find no Lady But she that has thy hopes to put her to, And hazard all thy peace? None to abuse, But she that lov'd thee ever? poor Spaconia, And so much lov'd thee, that in honesty And honour thou art bound to meet her vertues: She that forgot the greatness of her grief And miseries, that must follow such mad passions, Endless and wild as women; she that for thee And with thee left her liberty, her name, And Country, you have paid me equal, Heavens, And sent my own rod to correct me with; A woman: for inconstancy I'le suffer, Lay it on justice, till my soul melt in me For my unmanly, beastly, sudden doting Upon a new face: after all my oaths Many and strange ones, I feel my old fire flame again and burn So strong and violent, that should I see her Again, the grief and that would kill me.

Enter Bacurius And Spaconia.

Bac.

Lady, your token I acknowledge, you may pass; There is the King.

Spa.

I thank your Lordship for it.

[Exit Bac.

Tigr.

She comes, she comes, shame hide me ever from her, Would I were buried, or so far remov'd Light might not find me out, I dare not see her.

Spa.

Nay never hide your self; or were you hid Where earth hides all her riches, near her Center; My wrongs without more day would light me to you: I must speak e're I die; were all your greatness Doubled upon you, y'are a perjur'd man, And only mighty in your wickedness Of wronging women. Thou art false, false Prince; I live to see it, poor Spaconia lives To tell thee thou art false; and then no more; She lives to tell thee thou art more unconstant, Than all ill women ever were together. Thy faith is firm as raging over-flowes, That no bank can command; as lasting As boyes gay bubbles, blown i'th' Air and broken: The wind is fixt to thee: and sooner shall The beaten Mariner with his shrill whistle Calm the loud murmur of the troubled main, And strike it smooth again; than thy soul fall To have peace in love with any: Thou art all That all good men must hate; and if thy story Shall tell succeeding ages what thou wert, O let it spare me in it, lest true lovers In pity of my wrong, burn thy black Legend, And with their curses, shake thy sleeping ashes.

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