Chapter 2

_Are_. 'Tis true _Philaster,_ but the words are such, I have to say, and do so ill beseem The mouth of woman, that I wish them said, And yet am loth to speak them. Have you known That I have ought detracted from your worth? Have I in person wrong'd you? or have set My baser instruments to throw disgrace Upon your vertues?

_Phi_. Never Madam you.

_Are_. Why then should you in such a publick place, Injure a Princess and a scandal lay Upon my fortunes, fam'd to be so great: Calling a great part of my dowry in question.

_Phi_. Madam, this truth which I shall speak, will be Foolish: but for your fair and vertuous self, I could afford my self to have no right To any thing you wish'd.

_Are. Philaster,_ know I must enjoy these Kingdoms.

_Phi_. Madam, both?

_Are_. Both or I die: by Fate I die _Philaster,_ If I not calmly may enjoy them both.

_Phi_. I would do much to save that Noble life: Yet would be loth to have posterity Find in our stories, that _Philaster_ gave His right unto a Scepter, and a Crown, To save a Ladies longing.

_Are_. Nay then hear: I must, and will have them, and more.

_Phi_. What more?

_Are_. Or lose that little life the gods prepared, To trouble this poor piece of earth withall.

_Phi_. Madam, what more?

_Are_. Turn then away thy face.

_Phi_. No.

_Are_. Do.

_Phi_. I cannot endure it: turn away my face? I never yet saw enemy that lookt So dreadful, but that I thought my self 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 Ladies voice, Whom I do love? Say you would have my life, Why, I will give it you; for it is of me A thing so loath'd, and unto you that ask Of so poor use, that I shall make no price If you intreat, I will unmov'dly 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 doth 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: love you! By all my hopes I do, above my life: 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 fill'd 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 and kiss, Lest some unwelcome guest should fall betwixt us, And we should part without it. _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 lovers, 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 borrow'd 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 mystick order, that the rareness Delighted me: but ever when he turned His tender eyes upon 'um, he would weep, As if he meant to make 'um grow again. Seeing such pretty helpless innocence Dwell in his face, I ask'd him all his story; He told me that his Parents gentle dyed, 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 thank'd him, yielded him his light, Then took he up his Garland and did shew, What every flower as Country people hold, Did signifie: and how all ordered thus, Exprest his grief: and to my thoughts did read The prettiest lecture of his Country Art That could be wisht: so that, me thought, I could Have studied it. I gladly entertain'd him, Who was glad to follow; and have got The trustiest, loving'st, and the 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.

_La_. Madam, the Prince is come to do his service.

_Are_. What will you do _Philaster_ with your self?

_Phi_. Why, that which all the gods have appointed out for me.

_Are_. Dear, hide thy self. Bring in the Prince.

_Phi_. Hide me from _Pharamond!_ When Thunder speaks, which is the voice of _Jove,_ Though I do reverence, yet I hide me not; And shall a stranger Prince have leave to brag Unto a forreign Nation, that he made _Philaster_ hide himself?

_Are_. He cannot know it.

_Phi_. Though it should sleep for ever to the world, It is a simple sin to hide my self, Which will for ever on my conscience lie.

_Are_. Then good _Philaster,_ give him scope and way In what he saies: for he is apt to speak What you are loth to hear: for my sake do.

_Phi_. I will.

[ _Enter_ Pharamond.

_Pha_. My Princely Mistress, as true lovers ought, I come to kiss these fair hands; and to shew In outward Ceremonies, the dear love Writ in my heart.

_Phi_. If I shall have an answer no directlier, I am gone.

_Pha_. To what would he have an answer?

_Are_. To his claim unto the Kingdom.

_Pha_. Sirrah, I forbear you before the King.

_Phi_. Good Sir, do so still, I would not talk with you.

_Pha_. But now the time is fitter, do but offer To make mention of right to any Kingdom, Though it be scarce habitable.

_Phi_. Good Sir, let me go.

_Pha_. And by my sword.

_Phi_. Peace _Pharamond:_ if thou--

_Are_. Leave us Philaster.

_Phi_. I have done.

_Pha_. You are gone, by heaven I'le fetch you back.

_Phi_. You shall not need.

_Pha_. What now?

_Phi_. Know Pharamond, I loath to brawl with such a blast as thou, Who art nought but a valiant voice: But if Thou shalt provoke me further, men shall say Thou wert, and not lament it. _Pha_. Do you slight My greatness so, and in the Chamber of the Princess!

_Phi_. It is a place to which I must confess I owe a reverence: but wer't the Church, I, at the Altar, there's no place so safe, Where thou dar'st injure me, but I dare kill thee: And for your greatness; know Sir, I can grasp You, and your greatness thus, thus into nothing: Give not a word, not a word back: Farewell.

[_Exit_ Phi.

_Pha_. 'Tis an odd fellow Madam, we must stop His mouth with some Office, when we are married.

_Are_. You were best make him your Controuler.

_Pha_. I think he would discharge it well. But Madam, I hope our hearts are knit; and yet so slow The Ceremonies of State are, that 'twill be long Before our hands be so: If then you please, Being agreed in heart, let us not wait For dreaming for me, but take a little stoln Delights, and so prevent our joyes to come.

_Are_. If you dare speak such thoughts, I must withdraw in honour.

[_Exit_ Are.

_Pha_. The constitution of my body will never hold out till the wedding; I must seek elsewhere.

[_Exit_ Pha.

_Actus Secundus. Scena Prima_.

_Enter_ Philaster _and_ Bellario.

_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, I, or deserve.

_Bell_. Sir, you did take me up when I was nothing; And only yet am something, by being yours; You trusted me unknown; and that which you are apt To conster a simple innocence in me, Perhaps, might have been craft; the cunning of a boy Hardened in lies and theft; yet ventur'd you, To part my miseries and me: for which, I never can expect to serve a Lady That bears more honour in her breast than you.

_Phi_. But boy, it will prefer thee; thou art young, And bearest a childish overflowing love To them that clap thy cheeks, and speak thee fair yet: But when thy judgment comes to rule those passions, Thou wilt remember best those careful friends That plac'd thee in the noblest way of life; She is a Princess I prefer thee to.

_Bell_. In that small time that I have seen the world, I never knew a man hasty to part With a servant he thought trusty; I remember My Father would prefer the boys he kept To greater men than he, but did it not, Till they were grown too sawcy for himself.

_Phi_. Why gentle boy, I find no fault at all in thy behaviour.

_Bell_. 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, That (trust me) I could weep to part with thee. Alas! I do not turn thee off; thou knowest It is my business that doth call thee hence, And when thou art with her thou dwel'st with me: Think so, and 'tis so; and when time is full, That thou hast well discharged this heavy trust, Laid on so weak a one, I will again With joy receive thee; as I live, I will; Nay weep not, gentle boy; 'Tis more than time Thou didst attend the Princess.

_Bell_. I am gone; But since I am to part with you my Lord, And none knows whether I shall live to do More service for you; take this little prayer; Heaven bless your loves, your fights, all your designs. May sick men, if they have your wish, be well; And Heavens hate those you curse, though I be one.

[_Exit_.

_Phi_. The love of boyes unto their Lords is strange, I have read wonders of it; yet this boy For my sake, (if a man may judge by looks, And speech) would out-do story. I may see A day to pay him for his loyalty.

[_Exit_ Phi.

_Enter_ Pharamond.

_Pha_. Why should these Ladies stay so long? They must come this way; I know the Queen imployes 'em not, for the Reverend Mother sent me word they would all be for the Garden. If they should all prove honest now, I were in a fair taking; I was never so long without sport in my life, and in my conscience 'tis not my fault: Oh, for our Country Ladies! Here's one boulted, I'le hound at her.

_Enter_ Galatea.

_Gal_. Your Grace!

_Pha_. Shall I not be a trouble?

_Gal_. Not to me Sir.

_Pha_. Nay, nay, you are too quick; by this sweet hand.

_Gal_. You'l be forsworn Sir, 'tis but an old glove. If you will talk at distance, I am for you: but good Prince, be not bawdy, nor do not brag; these two I bar, and then I think, I shall have sence enough to answer all the weighty _Apothegmes_ your Royal blood shall manage.

_Pha_. Dear Lady, can you love?

_Gal_. Dear, Prince, how dear! I ne're cost you a Coach yet, nor put you to the dear repentance of a Banquet; here's no Scarlet Sir, to blush the sin out it was given for: This wyer mine own hair covers: and this face has been so far from being dear to any, that it ne're cost penny painting: And for the rest of my poor Wardrobe, such as you see, it leaves no hand behind it, to make the jealous Mercers wife curse our good doings.

_Pha_. You mistake me Lady.

_Gal_. Lord, I do so; would you or I could help it.

_Pha_. Do Ladies of this Country use to give no more respect to men of my full being?

_Gal_. Full being! I understand you not, unless your Grace means growing to fatness; and then your only remedy (upon my knowledge, Prince) is in a morning a Cup of neat White-wine brew'd with _Carduus_, then fast till supper, about eight you may eat; use exercise, and keep a Sparrow-hawk, you can shoot in a Tiller; but of all, your Grace must flie _Phlebotomie_, fresh Pork, Conger, and clarified Whay; They are all dullers of the vital spirits.

_Pha_. Lady, you talk of nothing all this while.

_Gal_. 'Tis very true Sir, I talk of you.

_Pha_. This is a crafty wench, I like her wit well, 'twill be rare to stir up a leaden appetite, she's a _Danae_, and must be courted in a showr of gold. Madam, look here, all these and more, than--

_Gal_. What have you there, my Lord? Gold? Now, as I live tis fair gold; you would have silver for it to play with the Pages; you could not have taken me in a worse time; But if you have present use my Lord, I'le send my man with silver and keep your gold for you.

_Pha_. Lady, Lady.

_Gal_. She's coming Sir behind, will take white mony. Yet for all this I'le match ye.

[_Exit_ Gal. _behind the hangings_.

_Pha_. If there be two such more in this Kingdom, and near the Court, we may even hang up our Harps: ten such _Camphire_ constitutions as this, would call the golden age again in question, and teach the old way for every ill fac't Husband to get his own Children, and what a mischief that will breed, let all consider.

[ _Enter_ Megra.

Here's another; if she be of the same last, the Devil shall pluck her on. Many fair mornings, Lady.

_Meg_. As many mornings bring as many dayes, Fair, sweet, and hopeful to your Grace.

_Pha_. She gives good words yet; Sure this wench is free. If your more serious business do not call you, Let me hold quarter with you, we'll take an hour Out quickly.

_Meg_. What would your Grace talk of?

_Pha_. Of some such pretty subject as your self. I'le go no further than your eye, or lip, There's theme enough for one man for an age.

_Meg_. Sir, they stand right, and my lips are yet even, Smooth, young enough, ripe enough, red enough, Or my glass wrongs me.

_Pha_. O they are two twin'd Cherries died in blushes, Which those fair suns above, with their bright beams Reflect upon, and ripen: sweetest beauty, Bow down those branches, that the longing taste, Of the faint looker on, may meet those blessings, And taste and live.

_Meg_. O delicate sweet Prince; She that hath snow enough about her heart, To take the wanton spring of ten such lines off, May be a Nun without probation. Sir, you have in such neat poetry, gathered a kiss, That if I had but five lines of that number, Such pretty begging blanks, I should commend Your fore-head, or your cheeks, and kiss you too.

_Pha_. Do it in prose; you cannot miss it Madam.

_Meg_. I shall, I shall.

_Pha_. By my life you shall not. I'le prompt you first: Can you do it now?

_Meg_. Methinks 'tis easie, now I ha' don't before; But yet I should stick at it.

_Pha_. Stick till to morrow. I'le ne'r part you sweetest. But we lose time, Can you love me?

_Meg_. Love you my Lord? How would you have me love you?

_Pha_. I'le teach you in a short sentence, cause I will not load your memory, that is all; love me, and lie with me.

_Meg_. Was it lie with you that you said? 'Tis impossible.

_Pha_. Not to a willing mind, that will endeavour; if I do not teach you to do it as easily in one night, as you'l go to bed, I'le lose my Royal blood for't.

_Meg_. Why Prince, you have a Lady of your own, that yet wants teaching.

_Pha_. I'le sooner teach a Mare the old measures, than teach her any thing belonging to the function; she's afraid to lie with her self, if she have but any masculine imaginations about her; I know when we are married, I must ravish her.

_Meg_. By my honour, that's a foul fault indeed, but time and your good help will wear it out Sir.

_Pha_. And for any other I see, excepting your dear self, dearest Lady, I had rather be Sir _Tim _the Schoolmaster, and leap a Dairy-maid.

_Meg_. Has your Grace seen the Court-star _Galatea_?

_Pha_. Out upon her; she's as cold of her favour as an apoplex: she sail'd by but now.

_Meg_. And how do you hold her wit Sir?

_Pha_. I hold her wit? The strength of all the Guard cannot hold it, if they were tied to it, she would blow 'em out of the Kingdom, they talk of _Jupiter_, he's but a squib cracker to her: Look well about you, and you may find a tongue-bolt. But speak sweet Lady, shall I be freely welcome?

_Meg_. Whither?

_Pha_. To your bed; if you mistrust my faith, you do me the unnoblest wrong.

_Meg_. I dare not Prince, I dare not.

_Pha_. Make your own conditions, my purse shall seal 'em, and what you dare imagine you can want, I'le furnish you withal: give two hours to your thoughts every morning about it. Come, I know you are bashful, speak in my ear, will you be mine? keep this, and with it me: soon I will visit you.

_Meg_. My Lord, my Chamber's most unsafe, but when 'tis night I'le find some means to slip into your lodging: till when--

_Pha_. Till when, this, and my heart go with thee.

[_Ex. several ways_.

_Enter _Galatea _from behind the hangings_.

_Gal_. Oh thou pernicious Petticoat Prince, are these your vertues? Well, if I do not lay a train to blow your sport up, I am no woman; and Lady Towsabel I'le fit you for't.

[_Exit_ Gal.

_Enter _Arethusa _and a_ Lady.

_Are_. Where's the boy?

_La_. Within Madam.

_Are_. Gave you him gold to buy him cloaths?

_La_. I did.

_Are_. And has he don't?

_La_. Yes Madam.

_Are_. 'Tis a pretty sad talking lad, is it not? Askt you his name?

_La_. No Madam.

[ _Enter _Galatea.

_Are_. O you are welcome, what good news?

_Gal_. As good as any one can tell your Grace, That saies she hath done that you would have wish'd.

_Are_. Hast thou discovered?

_Gal_. I have strained a point of modesty for you.

_Are_. I prethee how?

_Gal_. In listning after bawdery; I see, let a Lady live never so modestly, she shall be sure to find a lawful time, to harken after bawdery; your Prince, brave _Pharamond_, was so hot on't.

_Are_. With whom?

_Gal_. Why, with the Lady I suspect: I can tell the time and place.

_Are_. O when, and where?

_Gal_. To night, his Lodging.

_Are_. Run thy self into the presence, mingle there again With other Ladies, leave the rest to me: If destiny (to whom we dare not say, Why thou didst this) have not decreed it so In lasting leaves (whose smallest Characters Were never altered:) yet, this match shall break. Where's the boy?

_La_. Here Madam.

[ _Enter _Bellario.

_Are_. Sir, you are sad to change your service, is't not so?

_Bell_. Madam, I have not chang'd; I wait on you, To do him service.

_Are_. Thou disclaim'st in me; Tell me thy name.

_Bell_. _Bellario_.

_Are_. Thou canst sing, and play?

_Bell_. If grief will give me leave, Madam, I can.