be charmed down by any state order or proclamation, till they saw Philaster ride through the streets pleased, and without a guard; at which they threw their hats, and their arms from them; some to make bonfires, some to drink, all for his deliverance. Which, wise men say, is the cause, the king labours to bring in the power of a foreign nation, to awe his own with.

Enter KING, PHARAMOND, ARETHUSA, and train.
King. To give a stronger testimony of love
Than sickly promises (which commonly
In princes find both birth and burial

In one breath), we have drawn you, worthy sir,
To make your fair endearments to our daughter,
And worthy services known to our subjects,
Now loved and wondered at. Next, our intent,
To plant you deeply, our immediate heir,
Both to our blood and kingdoms. For this lady
(The best part of your life, as you confirm me,
And I believe) though her few years and sex,
Yet teach her nothing but her fears and blushes,
Desires without desire, discourse and knowledge
Only of what herself is to herself,

Make her feel moderate health; and when she sleeps,

In making no ill day, knows no ill dreams.
Think not, dear sir, these undivided parts,
That must mould up a virgin, are put on
To shew her so, as borrowed ornaments,
To speak her perfect love to you, or add
An artificial shadow to her nature :
No, Sir; I boldly dare proclaim her, yet
No woman. But woo her still, and think her

modesty

A sweeter mistress than the offered language
Of any dame, were she a queen, whose eye
Speaks common loves and comforts to her servants.
Last, noble son (for so I now must call you),
What I have done thus public, is not only
To add a comfort in particular
To you or me, but all; and to confirm
The nobles, and the gentry of these kingdoms,
By oath to your succession, which shall be
Within this month at most.

Thra. This will be hardly done.
Cle. It must be ill done, if it be done.
Dion. When 'tis at best, 'twill be but
half done, whilst

So brave a gentleman's wronged, and flung
off.

Thra. I fear.

Cle. Who does not?

Dion. I fear not for myself, and yet I

fear too.

Well, we shall see, we shall see. No more. J

Aside.

Pha. Kissing your white hand, mistress, I take leave

To thank your royal father; and thus far
To be my own free trumpet. Understand,
Great king, and these your subjects, mine that
must be,

(For so deserving you have spoke me, sir,

And so deserving I dare speak myself)
To what a person, of what eminence,
Ripe expectation, of what faculties,
Manners and virtues, you would wed your king-
doms:

You in me have your wishes. Oh, this country!
By more than all my hopes I hold it happy;
Happy, in their dear memories, that have been
And from you (as a chronicle to keep
Kings great and good; happy in yours, that is;
Your noble name from eating age) do I
Open myself, most happy. Gentlemen,
Believe me in a word, a prince's word,
There shall be nothing to make up a kingdom
Mighty, and flourishing, defenced, feared,
Equal to be commanded and obeyed,
But through the travels of my life I'll find it,
And tie it to this country. And I vow
My reign shall be so easy to the subject,
That every man shall be his prince himself,
And his own law (yet I his prince and law).
And, dearest lady, to your dearest self
(Dear, in the choice of him whose name and lustre
Must make you more and mightier) let me say,
You are the blessedest living; for, sweet princess,
You shall make him yours, for whom
Great queens must die.

Thra. Miraculous!

Dion. I wonder what's his price? For certainly He'll sell himself, he has so praised his shape. But here comes one, more worthy those large speeches,

Than the large speaker of them.

Let me be swallowed quick, if I can find,
In all the anatomy of yon man's virtues,
One sinew sound enough to promise for him,
He shall be constable.

By this sun, he'll never make a king
Unless it be for trifles, in my poor judgment.
Phi. Right noble sir, as low as my obedience,
And with a heart as loyal as my knee,
I beg your favour.

King. Rise; you have it, sir.

Dion. Mark but the king, how pale he looks

with fear!

Oh! this same whorson conscience, how it jades us! King. Speak your intents, sir.

Phi. Shall I speak them freely? Be still my royal sovereign.

King. As a subject,

We give you freedom.

Dion. Now it heats.

Phi. Then thus I turn

My language to you, prince; you, foreign man! Ne'er stare, nor put on wonder, for you must Endure me, and you shall. This earth you tread

upon

(A dowry, as you hope, with this fair princess)
By my dead father (oh, I had a father,
Whose memory I bow to!) was not left
To your inheritance, and I up and living;
Having myself about me, and my sword,
The souls of all my name, and memories,
These arms, and some few friends, besides the gods;
To part so calmly with it, and sit still,

And say, I might have been.' I tell thee, Pharamond,

When thou art king, look I be dead and rotten,
And my name ashes: For, hear me, Pharamond!
This very ground, thou goest on, this fat earth,
My father's friends made fertile with their faiths,
Before that day of shame, shall gape and swallow
Thee and thy nation, like a hungry grave,
Into her hidden bowels. Prince, it shall;
By Nemesis, it shall !

Pha. He's mad; beyond cure, mad.

Dion. Here is a fellow has some fire in his veins: The outlandish prince looks like a tooth-drawer. Phi. Sir, prince of poppingjays, I'll make it well appear

Το

you, I am not mad. King. You displease us:

You are too bold.

Phi. No, sir, I am too tame,

Too much a turtle, a thing, born without passion, A faint shadow, that every drunken cloud sails

over,

And makes nothing.

King. I do not fancy this.

Call our physicians: Sure he is somewhat tainted. Thra. I do not think 'twill prove so.

Dion. He has given him a general purge already, for all the right he has; and now he means to let him blood. Be constant, gentlemen: By these hilts, I'll run his hazard, although I run my name out of the kingdom.

Cle. Peace, we are all one soul.

Pha. What you have seen in me, to stir offence,
I cannot find; unless it be this lady,
Offered into mine arms, with the succession;
Which I must keep, though it hath pleased your
fury

To mutiny within you; without disputing
Your genealogies, or taking knowledge
Whose branch you are. The king will leave it

me;

And I dare make it mine. You have your answer.
Phi. If thou wert sole inheritor to him,
That made the world his, and couldst see no sun
Shine upon any thing but thine; were Pharamond
As truly valiant as I feel him cold,
And ringed among the choicest of his friends
(Such as would blush to talk such serious follies,
Or back such bellied commendations),

And from this presence, spite of all these bugs,
You should hear further from me.

King. Sir, you wrong the prince :

You deserve our frown. Go to; be better tempered.

Phi. It must be, sir, when I am nobler used.
King. Philaster, tell me

The injuries you aim at, in your riddles.

Phi. If you had my eyes, sir, and sufferance, My griefs upon you, and my broken fortunes, My wants great, and now nought but hopes and

fears,

My wrongs would make ill riddles to be laughed at.
Dare you be still my king, and right me not?
King. Give me your wrongs in private.
[They whisper.

Phi. Take them,
And ease me of a load would bow strong Atlas.
Cle. He dares not stand the shock.

Dion. I cannot blame him: there's danger in't. Every man in this age has not a soul of crystal, for all men to read their actions through: Men's hearts and faces are so far asunder, that they hold no intelligence. Do but view yon stranger well, and you shall see a fever through all his bravery, and feel him shake like a true recreant. If he give not back his crown again, upon the report of an elder gun, I have no augury.

King. Go to!

Be more yourself, as you respect our favour; You'll stir us else. Sir, I must have you know, That you are, and shall be, at our pleasure, what fashion we

Will put upon you. Smooth your brow, or by the gods

Phi. I am dead, sir; you are my fate. It was not I

Said, I was wronged: I carry all about me,
My weak stars lead me to, all my weak fortunes.
Who dares in all this presence speak (that is
But man of flesh, and may be mortal) tell me,
I do not most entirely love this prince,
And honour his full virtues!

King. Sure, he's possessed.

Phi. Yes, with my father's spirit: It is here, O king! A dangerous spirit. Now he tells me, king, I was a king's heir, bids me be a king; And whispers to me, these are all my subjects. 'Tis strange he will not let me sleep, but dives Into my fancy, and there gives me shapes, That kneel, and do me service, cry 66 But I'll suppress him; he's a factious spirit, And will undo me. Noble sir, your hand : I am your servant.

me king:"

Made his soul melt within him, and his blood

Run into whey! It stood upon his brow,

Like a cold winter dew.

Phi. Gentlemen,

You have no suit to me? I am no minion:

You stand, methinks, like men, that would be courtiers,

If you could well be flattered at a price
Not to undo your children. You are all honest:
Go, get you home again, and make your country
A virtuous court; to which your great ones may,
In their diseased age, retire, and live recluse.
Cle. How do you, worthy sir?

Phi. Well, very well;

And so well, that, if the king please, I find
I may live many years.

Dion. The king must please,

Whilst we know what you are, and who you are,
Your wrongs and injuries. Shrink not, worthy sir,
But add your father to you: In whose name,
We'll waken all the gods, and conjure up
The rods of vengeance, the abused people;
Who, like to raging torrents, shall swell high,
And so begirt the dens of these male-dragons,
That, through the strongest safety, they shall beg
For mercy at your sword's point.

Phi. Friends, no more;

Our cars may be corrupted: 'Tis an age

Phi. My lord Dion,

Are. Of love? to whom? to you! Did you deliver those plain words, I sent,

ther;

Is she yet alive?

Dion. Most honoured sir, she is: And, for the penance but of an idle dream, Has undertook a tedious pilgrimage.

Enter a Lady.

Phi. Is it to me, or any of these gentlemen, you come?

Lady. To you, brave lord: The princess would entreat your present company.

Phi. The princess send for me! You are mistaken.

Lady. If you be called Philaster, 'tis to you. Phi. Kiss her fair hand, and say I will attend her.

Dion. Do you know what you do?

Phi. Yes; go to see a woman.

Cle. But do you weigh the danger you are in? Phi. Danger in a sweet face!

By Jupiter, I must not fear a woman.

Thra. But are you sure it was the princess sent? It may be some foul train to catch your life.

Phi. I do not think it, gentlemen; she's noble; Her eye may shoot me dead, or those true red And white friends in her face may steal my soul

That you have caught him?

Lady. Madam, I mean to you.

Are. Of love to me? alas! thy ignorance

Lets thee not see the crosses of our births.
Nature, that loves not to be questioned
Why she did this, or that, but has her ends,
And knows she does well, never gave the world
Two things so opposite, so contrary,
As he and I am: If a bowl of blood,
Drawn from this arm of mine, would poison thee,
A draught of his would cure thee. Of love to me?
Lady. Madam, I think I hear him.

Are. Bring him in.

Phi. No.

Are. Do.

Phi. I can't endure it. Turn away my face? I never yet saw enemy, that looked So dreadfully, but that I thought myself As great a basilisk as he; or spake So horribly, but that I thought my tongue Bore thunder underneath, as much as his; Nor beast, that I could turn from: Shall I then Begin to fear sweet sounds? a lady's voice, Whom I do love? Say, you would have my life; Why, I will give it you; for it is to me A thing so loathed, and unto you, that ask, Of so poor use, that I will make no price: If you entreat, I will unmovedly hear. Are. Yet, for my sake, a little bend thy looks. Phi. I do.

Are. Then know, I must have them, and thee. Phi. And me?

Are. Thy love; without which, all the land, Discovered yet, will serve me for no use, But to be buried in.

Phi. Is't possible?

Are. With it, it were too little to bestow On thee. Now, though thy breath do strike me dead,

(Which, know, it may) I have unript my breast.
Phi. Madam, you are too full of noble thoughts,
To lay a train for this contemned life,
Which you may have for asking: To suspect
Were base, where I deserve no ill.

By all my hopes, I do above my life :
VOL. I.

Love you,

But how this passion should proceed from you
So violently, would amaze a man,
That would be jealous.

Are. Another soul, into my body shot, Could not have filled me with more strength and spirit,

Than this thy breath. But spend not hasty time
In seeking how I came thus: 'Tis the gods,
The gods, that make me so; and, sure, our love
Will be the nobler, and the better blest,
In that the secret justice of the gods

Is mingled with it. Let us leave,

Lest some unwelcome guest should fall betwixt us. Phi. Twill be ill

I should abide here long.

Are. 'Tis true; and worse

You should come often. How shall we devise
To hold intelligence, that our true loves,
On any new occasion, may agree
What path is best to tread?

Phi. I have a boy,

Sent by the gods, I hope, to this intent,
Not yet seen in the court. Hunting the buck,
I found him sitting by a fountain side,

Of which he borrowed some to quench his thirst,
And paid the nymph again as much in tears.
A garland lay him by, made by himself,
Of many several flowers, bred in the bay,
Stuck in that mystic order, that the rareness
Delighted me: But ever when he turned
His tender eyes upon them, he would weep,
As if he meant to make them grow again.
Secing such pretty helpless innocence
Dwell in his face, I asked him all his story.
He told me, that his parents gentle died,
Leaving him to the mercy of the fields,
Which gave him roots; and of the crystal springs,
Which did not stop their courses; and the sun,
Which still, he thanked him, yielded him his light.
Then took he up his garland, and did shew
What every flower, as country people hold,
Did signify; and how all, ordered thus,
Expressed his grief: And, to my thoughts, did
read

The prettiest lecture of his country art,
That could be wished; so that, methought, I could
Have studied it. I gladly entertained him,
Who was as glad to follow; and have got
The trustiest, lovingest, and gentlest boy,
That ever master kept. Him will I send
To wait on you, and bear our hidden love.
Enter Lady.

Are. 'Tis well; no more.
Lady. Madam, the prince is come to do his
service.

Are. What will you do, Philaster, with yourself?
Phi. Why, that, which all the gods have ар-
pointed out for me.

Are. Dear, hide thyself. Bring in the prince. Phi. Hide me from Pharamond! When thunder speaks, which is the voice of Jove

C

Though I do reverence, yet I hide me not; And shall a stranger prince have leave to brag Unto a foreign nation, that he made · ́ Philaster hide himself?

Are. He cannot know it.

Pha. You are gone: By Heaven, I'll fetch you back.

Phi. You shall not need.
Pha. What now?

Phi. Know, Pharamond,

world,

Who art nought but a valiant voice: But, ifThou shalt provoke me further, men shall say "Thou wert," and not lament it.

Phi. AND thou shalt find her honourable, boy, Full of regard unto thy tender youth, For thine own modesty; and, for my sake, Apter to give than thou wilt be to ask, Ay, or deserve.

Bel. Sir, you did take me up, when I was nothing;

And only yet am something, by being yours. You trusted me unknown; and that, which you were apt

To construe a simple innocence in me,
Perhaps, might have been craft; the cunning of a
boy

Hardened in lies and theft: Yet ventured you
To part my miseries and me; for which
I never can expect to serve a lady
That bears more honour in her breast than
Phi. But, boy, it will prefer thee. Thou art
young,

you.

And bear'st a childish overflowing love
To them, that clap thy cheeks, and speak thee fair.
But, when thy judgment comes to rule those pas-
sions,

[Exeunt at different sides.

Thou wilt remember best those careful friends, That placed thee in the noblest way of life. She is a princess I prefer thee to.

Bel. In that small time that I have seen the world,

I never knew a man hasty to part
With a servant, he thought trusty: I remember,
My father would prefer the boys he kept
To greater men than he; but did it not,
Till they were grown too saucy for himself.
Phi. Why, gentle boy, I find no fault at all
In thy behaviour.

Bel. Sir, if I have made

A fault of ignorance, instruct my youth:
I shall be willing, if not apt, to learn;
Age and experience will adorn my mind
With larger knowledge: And, if I have done
A wilful fault, think me not past all hope
For once. What master holds so strict a hand
Over his boy, that he will part with him
Without one warning? Let me be corrected,
To break my stubbornness, if it be so,
Rather than turn me off; and I shall mend.
Phi. Thy love doth plead so prettily to stay,