Chapter 5

_Phi_. Oh, that I had been nourished in these woods With Milk of Goats, and Acorns, and not known The right of Crowns, nor the dissembling Trains Of Womens looks; but dig'd my self a Cave, Where I, my Fire, my Cattel, and my Bed Might have been shut together in one shed; And then had taken me some Mountain Girl, Beaten with Winds, chast as the hardened Rocks Whereon she dwells; that might have strewed my Bed With leaves, and Reeds, and with the Skins of beasts Our Neighbours; and have born at her big breasts My large course issue. This had been a life free from vexation.

[ _Enter_ Bellario.

_Bell_. Oh wicked men! An innocent man may walk safe among beasts, Nothing assaults me here. See, my griev'd Lord Sits as his soul were searching out a way, To leave his body. Pardon me that must Break thy last commandment; For I must speak; You that are griev'd can pity; hear my Lord.

_Phi_. Is there a Creature yet so miserable, That I can pity?

_Bell_. Oh my Noble Lord, View my strange fortune, and bestow on me, According to your bounty (if my service Can merit nothing) so much as may serve To keep that little piece I hold of life From cold and hunger.

_Phi_. Is it thou? be gone: Go sell those misbeseeming Cloaths thou wear'st, And feed thy self with them.

_Bell_. Alas! my Lord, I can get nothing for them: The silly Country people think 'tis Treason To touch such gay things.

_Phi_. Now by my life this is Unkindly done, to vex me with thy sight, Th'art fain again to thy dissembling trade: How should'st thou think to cozen me again? Remains there yet a plague untri'd for me? Even so thou wept'st and spok'st when first I took thee up; curse on the time. If thy Commanding tears can work on any other, Use thy art, I'le not betray it. Which way Wilt thou take, that I may shun thee; For thine eyes are poyson to mine; and I Am loth to grow in rage. This way, or that way?

_Bell_. Any will serve. But I will chuse to have That path in chase that leads unto my grave.

[_Exeunt_ Phil. _and_ Bell. _severally_.

_Enter_ Dion _and the_ Woodmen.

_Di_. This is the strangest sudden change! You _Woodman_.

_1 Wood_. My Lord _Dion_.

_Di_. Saw you a Lady come this way on a Sable-horse stubbed with stars of white?

_2 Wood_. Was she not young and tall?

_Di_. Yes; Rode she to the wood, or to the plain?

_2 Wood_. Faith my Lord we saw none.

[_Exeunt_ Wood.

_Enter_ Cleremont.

_Di_. Pox of your questions then. What, is she found?

_Cle_. Nor will be I think.

_Di_. Let him seek his Daughter himself; she cannot stray about a little necessary natural business, but the whole Court must be in Arms; when she has done, we shall have peace.

_Cle_. There's already a thousand fatherless tales amongst us; some say her Horse run away with her; some a Wolf pursued her; others, it was a plot to kill her; and that Armed men were seen in the Wood: but questionless, she rode away willingly.

_Enter_ King, _and_ Thrasiline.

_King_. Where is she?

_Cle_. Sir, I cannot tell.

_King_. How is that? Answer me so again.

_Cle_. Sir, shall I lie?

_King_. Yes, lie and damn, rather than tell me that; I say again, where is she? Mutter not; Sir, speak you where is she?

_Di_. Sir, I do not know.

_King_. Speak that again so boldly, and by Heaven It is thy last. You fellows answer me, Where is she? Mark me all, I am your King. I wish to see my Daughter, shew her me; I do command you all, as you are subjects, To shew her me, what am I not your King? If I, then am I not to be obeyed?

_Di_. Yes, if you command things possible and honest.

_King_. Things possible and honest! Hear me, thou, Thou Traytor, that darest confine thy King to things Possible and honest; shew her me, Or let me perish, if I cover not all _Cicily_ with bloud.

_Di_. Indeed I cannot, unless you tell me where she is.

_King_. You have betray'd me, y'have, let me lose The Jewel of my life, go; bring her me, And set her before me; 'tis the King Will have it so, whose breath can still the winds, Uncloud the Sun, charm down the swelling Sea, And stop the Flouds of Heaven; speak, can it not?

_Di_. No.

_King_. No, cannot the breath of Kings do this?

_Di_. No; nor smell sweet it self, if once the Lungs Be but corrupted.

_King_. Is it so? Take heed.

_Di_. Sir, take you heed; how you dare the powers That must be just.

_King_. Alas! what are we Kings? Why do you gods place us above the rest; To be serv'd, flatter'd, and ador'd till we Believe we hold within our hands your Thunder, And when we come to try the power we have, There's not a leaf shakes at our threatnings. I have sin'd 'tis true, and here stand to be punish'd; Yet would not thus be punish'd; let me chuse My way, and lay it on.

_Di_. He Articles with the gods; would some body would draw bonds, for the performance of Covenants betwixt them.

_Enter_ Pha. Galatea, _and_ Megra.

_King_. What, is she found?

_Pha_. No, we have ta'ne her Horse. He gallopt empty by: there's some Treason; You _Galatea_ rode with her into the wood; why left you her?

_Gal_. She did command me.

_King_. Command! you should not.

_Gal_. 'Twould ill become my Fortunes and my Birth To disobey the Daughter of my King.

_King_. Y'are all cunning to obey us for our hurt, But I will have her.

_Pha_. If I have her not, By this hand there shall be no more _Cicily_.

_Di_. What will he carry it to _Spain_ in's pocket?

_Pha_. I will not leave one man alive, but the King, A Cook and a Taylor.

_Di_. Yet you may do well to spare your Ladies Bed-fellow, and her you may keep for a Spawner.

_King_. I see the injuries I have done must be reveng'd.

_Di_. Sir, this is not the way to find her out.

_King_. Run all, disperse your selves: the man that finds her, Or (if she be kill'd) the Traytor; I'le [make] him great.

_Di_. I know some would give five thousand pounds to find her.

_Pha_. Come let us seek.

_King_. Each man a several way, here I my self.

_Di_. Come Gentlemen we here.

_Cle_. Lady you must go search too.

_Meg_. I had rather be search'd my self.

[_Exeunt omnes_.

_Enter_ Arethusa.

_Are_. Where am I now? Feet find me out a way, Without the counsel of my troubled head, I'le follow you boldly about these woods, O're mountains, thorow brambles, pits, and flouds: Heaven I hope will ease me. I am sick.

_Enter_ Bellario.

_Bell_. Yonder's my Lady; Heaven knows I want nothing; Because I do not wish to live, yet I Will try her Charity. Oh hear, you that have plenty, From that flowing store, drop some on dry ground; see, The lively red is gone to guard her heart; I fear she faints. Madam look up, she breaths not; Open once more those rosie twins, and send Unto my Lord, your latest farewell; Oh, she stirs: How is it Madam? Speak comfort.

_Are_. 'Tis not gently done, To put me in a miserable life, And hold me there; I pray thee let me go, I shall do best without thee; I am well.

_Enter_ Philaster.

_Phil_. I am to blame to be so much in rage, I'le tell her coolely, when and where I heard This killing truth. I will be temperate In speaking, and as just in hearing. Oh monstrous! Tempt me not ye gods, good gods Tempt not a frail man, what's he, that has a heart But he must ease it here?

_Bell_. My Lord, help the Princess.

_Are_. I am well, forbear.

_Phi_. Let me love lightning, let me be embrac'd And kist by Scorpions, or adore the eyes Of Basilisks, rather than trust to tongues, And shrink these veins up; stick me here a stone Lasting to ages in the memory Of this damn'd act. Hear me you wicked ones, You have put the hills on fire into this breast, Not to be quench'd with tears, for which may guilt Sit on your bosoms; at your meals, and beds, Despair await you: what, before my face? Poyson of Aspes between your lips; Diseases Be your best issues; Nature make a Curse And throw it on you.

_Are_. Dear _Philaster_, leave To be enrag'd, and hear me.

_Phi_. I have done; Forgive my passion, not the calm'd sea, When _Æolus_ locks up his windy brood, Is less disturb'd than I, I'le make you know it. Dear _Arethusa_, do but take this sword, And search how temperate a heart I have; Then you and this your boy, may live and raign In lust without control; Wilt thou _Bellario_? I prethee kill me; thou art poor, and maist Nourish ambitious thoughts, when I am dead: This way were freer; Am I raging now? If I were mad I should desire to live; Sirs, feel my pulse; whether have you known A man in a more equal tune to die?

_Bel_. Alas my Lord, your pulse keeps madmans time, So does your tongue.

_Phi_. You will not kill me then?

_Are_. Kill you?

_Bell_. Not for a world.

_Phi_. I blame not thee, _Bellario_; thou hast done but that, which gods Would have transform'd themselves to do; be gone, Leave me without reply; this is the last Of all our meeting. Kill me with this sword; Be wise, or worse will follow: we are two Earth cannot bear at once. Resolve to do, or suffer.

_Are_. If my fortunes be so good to let me fall Upon thy hand, I shall have peace in death. Yet tell me this, will there be no slanders, No jealousies in the other world, no ill there?

_Phi_. No.

_Are_. Shew me then the way.

_Phi_. Then guide My feeble hand, you that have power to do it, For I must perform a piece of justice. If your youth Have any way offended Heaven, let prayers Short and effectual reconcile you to it.

_Are_. I am prepared.

_Enter a_ Country-fellow.

_Coun_. I'le see the King if he be in the Forest, I have hunted him these two hours; if I should come home and not see him my Sisters would laugh at me; I can see nothing but people better horst than my self, that outride me; I can hear nothing but shouting. These Kings had need of good brains, this whooping is able to put a mean man out of his wits. There's a Courtier with his sword drawn, by this hand upon a woman, I think.

_Phi_. Are you at peace?

_Are_. With Heavens and Earth.

_Phi_. May they divide thy soul and body?

_Coun_. Hold dastard, strike a Woman! th'art a craven I warrant thee, thou wouldst be loth to play half a dozen of venies at wasters with a good fellow for a broken head.

_Phi_. Leave us good friend.

_Are_. What ill bred man art thou, to intrude thy self Upon our private sports, our recreations?

_Coun_. God 'uds, I understand you not, but I know the Rogue has hurt you.

_Phi_. Pursue thy own affairs: it will be ill To multiply bloud upon my head; which thou wilt force me to.

_Coun_. I know not your Rhetorick, but I can lay it on if you touch the woman.

[_They fight_.

_Phi_. Slave, take what thou deservest.

_Are_. Heavens guard my Lord.

_Coun_. Oh do you breath?

_Phi_. I hear the tread of people: I am hurt. The gods take part against me, could this Boor Have held me thus else? I must shift for life, Though I do loath it. I would find a course, To lose it, rather by my will than force.

[_Exit_ Phil.

_Coun_. I cannot follow the Rogue. I pray thee wench come and kiss me now.

_Enter_ Phara. Dion, Cle. Thra. _and_ Woodmen.

_Pha_. What art thou?

_Coun_. Almost kil'd I am for a foolish woman; a knave has hurt her.

_Pha_. The Princess Gentlemen! Where's the wound Madam? Is it dangerous?

_Are_. He has not hurt me.

_Coun_. I'faith she lies, has hurt her in the breast, look else.

_Pha_. O sacred spring of innocent blood!

_Di_. 'Tis above wonder! who should dare this?

_Are_. I felt it not.

_Pha_. Speak villain, who has hurt the Princess?

_Coun_. Is it the Princess?

_Di_. I.

_Coun_. Then I have seen something yet.

_Pha_. But who has hurt her?

_Coun_. I told you a Rogue I ne're saw him before, I.

_Pha_. Madam who did it?

_Are_. Some dishonest wretch, Alas I know him not, And do forgive him.

_Coun_. He's hurt too, he cannot go far, I made my Fathers old Fox flie about his ears.

_Pha_. How will you have me kill him?

_Are_. Not at all, 'tis some distracted fellow.

_Pha_. By this hand, I'le leave ne'er a piece of him bigger than a Nut, and bring him all in my Hat.

_Are_. Nay, good Sir; If you do take him, bring him quick to me, And I will study for a punishment, Great as his fault.

_Pha_. I will.

_Are_. But swear.

_Pha_. By all my love I will: Woodmen conduct the Princess to the King, and bear that wounded fellow to dressing: Come Gentlemen, we'l follow the chase close.

[_Ex_. Are. Pha. Di. Cle. Thra. _and_ 1 Woodman.

_Coun_. I pray you friend let me see the King.

_2 Wood_.That you shall, and receive thanks.

[_Exeunt_.

_Coun_. If I get clear with this, I'le go see no more gay sights.

_Enter_ Bellario.

_Bell_. A heaviness near death sits on my brow, And I must sleep: Bear me thou gentle bank, For ever if thou wilt: you sweet ones all, Let me unworthy press you: I could wish I rather were a Coarse strewed o're with you, Than quick above you. Dulness shuts mine eyes, And I am giddy; Oh that I could take So sound a sleep, that I might never wake.

_Enter_ Philaster.

_Phi_. I have done ill, my conscience calls me false, To strike at her, that would not strike at me: When I did fight, me thought I heard her pray The gods to guard me. She may be abus'd, And I a loathed villain: if she be, She will conceal who hurt her; He has wounds, And cannot follow, neither knows he me. Who's this; _Bellario_ sleeping? If thou beest Guilty, there is no justice that thy sleep

[_Cry within_.

Should be so sound, and mine, whom thou hast wrong'd, So broken: Hark I am pursued: you gods I'le take this offer'd means of my escape: They have no mark to know me, but my wounds, If she be true; if false, let mischief light On all the world at once. Sword, print my wounds Upon this sleeping boy: I ha' none I think Are mortal, nor would I lay greater on thee.

[_Wounds him_.

_Bell_. Oh death I hope is come, blest be that hand, It meant me well; again, for pities sake.

_Phi_. I have caught my self,

[Phi. _falls_.

The loss of bloud hath stayed my flight. Here, here, Is he that stroke thee: take thy full revenge, Use me, as I did mean thee, worse than death: I'le teach thee to revenge this luckless hand Wounded the Princess, tell my followers Thou didst receive these hurts in staying me, And I will second thee: Get a reward.

_Bell_. Fly, fly my Lord and save your self.

_Phi_. How's this? Wouldst thou I should be safe?

_Bell_. Else it were vain For me to live. These little wounds I have, Ha' not bled much, reach me that noble hand, I'le help to cover you.

_Phi_. Art thou true to me?

_Bell_. Or let me perish loath'd. Come my good Lord, Creep in amongst those bushes: who does know But that the gods may save your (much lov'd) breath?

_Phi_. Then I shall die for grief, if not for this, That I have wounded thee: what wilt thou do?

_Bell_. Shift for my self well: peace, I hear 'em come.

_Within_. Follow, follow, follow; that way they went.

_Bell_. With my own wounds I'le bloudy my own sword. I need not counterfeit to fall; Heaven knows, That I can stand no longer.

_Enter_ Pha. Dion, Cle. _and_ Thra.

_Pha_. To this place we have tract him by his bloud.

_Cle_. Yonder, my Lord, creeps one away.

_Di_. Stay Sir, what are you?

_Bell_. A wretched creature wounded in these Woods By Beasts; relieve me, if your names be men, Or I shall perish.

_Di_. This is he my Lord, Upon my soul that hurt her; 'tis the boy, That wicked boy that serv'd her.

_Pha_. O thou damn'd in thy creation! What cause could'st thou shape to hurt the Princess?

_Bell_. Then I am betrayed.

_Di_. Betrayed! no, apprehended.

_Bell_. I confess; Urge it no more, that big with evil thoughts I set upon her, and did take my aim Her death. For charity let fall at once The punishment you mean, and do not load This weary flesh with tortures.

_Pha_. I will know who hir'd thee to this deed?

_Bell_. Mine own revenge.

_Pha_. Revenge, for what?

_Bell_. It pleas'd her to receive Me as her Page, and when my fortunes ebb'd, That men strid o're them carelesly, she did showr Her welcome graces on me, and did swell My fortunes, till they overflow'd their banks, Threatning the men that crost 'em; when as swift As storms arise at sea, she turn'd her eyes To burning Suns upon me, and did dry The streams she had bestowed, leaving me worse And more contemn'd than other little brooks, Because I had been great: In short, I knew I could not live, and therefore did desire To die reveng'd.

_Pha_. If tortures can be found, Long as thy natural life, resolve to feel The utmost rigour.

[Philaster _creeps out of a bush_.

_Cle_. Help to lead him hence.

_Phi_. Turn back you ravishers of Innocence, Know ye the price of that you bear away so rudely?

_Pha_. Who's that?

_Di_. 'Tis the Lord _Philaster_.

_Phi_. 'Tis not the treasure of all Kings in one, The wealth of _Tagus_, nor the Rocks of Pearl, That pave the Court of _Neptune_, can weigh down That vertue. It was I that hurt the Princess. Place me, some god, upon a _Piramis_, Higher than hills of earth, and lend a voice Loud as your Thunder to me, that from thence, I may discourse to all the under-world, The worth that dwells in him.

_Pha_. How's this?

_Bell_. My Lord, some man Weary of life, that would be glad to die.

_Phi_. Leave these untimely courtesies _Bellario_.

_Bell_. Alas he's mad, come will you lead me on?

_Phi_. By all the Oaths that men ought most to keep: And Gods do punish most, when men do break, He toucht her not. Take heed _Bellario_, How thou dost drown the vertues thou hast shown With perjury. By all that's good 'twas I: You know she stood betwixt me and my right.

_Pha_. Thy own tongue be thy judge.

_Cle_. It was _Philaster_.

_Di_. Is't not a brave boy? Well Sirs, I fear we were all deceived.

_Phi_. Have I no friend here?

_Di_. Yes.

_Phi_. Then shew it; Some good body lend a hand to draw us nearer. Would you have tears shed for you when you die? Then lay me gentle on his neck that there I may weep flouds, and breath out my spirit: 'Tis not the wealth of _Plutus_, nor the gold Lockt in the heart of earth, can buy away This arm-full from me, this had been a ransom To have redeem'd the great _Augustus Caesar_, Had he been taken: you hard-hearted men, More stony than these Mountains, can you see Such clear pure bloud drop, and not cut your flesh To stop his life? To bind whose better wounds, Queens ought to tear their hair, and with their tears, Bath 'em. Forgive me, thou that art the wealth of poor _Philaster_.

[_Enter_ King, Arethusa _and a_ Guard.

_King_. Is the villain ta'ne?

_Pha_. Sir, here be two confess the deed; but say it was _Philaster_.

_Phi_. Question it no more, it was.

_King_. The fellow that did fight with him will tell us.

_Are_. Ay me, I know he will.

_King_. Did not you know him?

_Are_. Sir, if it was he, he was disguised.

_Phi_. I was so. Oh my stars! that I should live still.

_King_. Thou ambitious fool; Thou that hast laid a train for thy own life; Now I do mean to do, I'le leave to talk, bear him to prison.