SCENE III.--_A Street near the_ King's _Palace.

_Enter_ ADAM _and his crew of_ Ruffians _drunk._

_Adam._ Farewell, gentle tapster.--Masters, as good ale as ever was tapt; look to your feet, for the ale is strong.--Well, farewell, gentle tapster.

_First Ruf._ [_to Second Ruf._] Why, sirrah slave, by heaven's maker, thinkest thou the wench loves thee best because she laughed on thee? give me but such another word, and I will throw the pot at thy head.

_Adam._ Spill no drink, spill no drink, the ale is good: I'll tell you what, ale is ale, and so I'll commend me to you with hearty commendations.--Farewell, gentle tapster.

_Second Ruf._ Why, wherefore, peasant, scornest thou that the wench should love me? look but on her, and I'll thrust my dagger in thy bosom.

_First Ruf._ Well, sirrah, well, tha'rt as tha'rt, and so I'll take thee.

_Second Ruf._ Why, what am I?

_First Ruf._ Why, what thou wilt; a slave.

_Second Ruf._ Then take that, villain, and learn how thou use me another time. [_Stabs_ First Ruf.

_First Ruf._ O, I am slain! [_Dies._

_Second Ruf._ That's all one to me, I care not. Now will I in to my wench, and call for a fresh pot. [_Exit: followed by all except_ ADAM.

_Adam._ Nay, but hear ye, take me with ye, for the ale is ale.--Cut a fresh toast, tapster, fill me a pot; here is money, I am no beggar, I'll follow thee as long as the ale lasts.--A pestilence on the blocks for me, for I might have had a fall: well, if we shall have no ale, I'll sit me down: and so farewell, gentle tapster. [_Here he falls over the dead man._

_Enter_ RASNI, ALVIDA, _the_ KING OF CILICIA, Lords, _and_ Attendants.

_Rasni._ What slaughter'd wretch lies bleeding here his last, So near the royal palace of the king? Search out if any one be biding nigh, That can discourse the manner of his death.-- Seat thee, fair Alvida, the fair of fairs; Let not the object once offend thine eyes.

_First Lord._ Here's one sits here asleep, my lord.

_Rasni._ Wake him, and make inquiry of this thing.

_First Lord._ Sirrah, you! hearest thou, fellow?

_Adam._ If you will fill a fresh pot, here's a penny, or else farewell, gentle tapster.

_First Lord._ He is drunk, my lord.

_Rasni._ We'll sport with him, that Alvida may laugh.

_First Lord._ Sirrah, thou fellow, thou must come to the king.

_Adam._ I will not do a stroke of work to-day, for the ale is good ale, and you can ask but a penny for a pot, no more by the statute.

_First Lord._ Villain, here's the king; thou must come to him.

_Adam._ The king come to an ale-house!--Tapster, fill me three pots.--Where's the king? is this he?--Give me your hand, sir: as good ale as ever was tapt; you shall drink while your skin crack.

_Rasni._ But hearest thou, fellow, who killed this man?

_Adam._ I'll tell you, sir,--if you did taste of the ale,--all Nineveh hath not such a cup of ale, it flowers in the cup, sir; by my troth, I spent eleven pence, beside three races of ginger--

_Rasni._ Answer me, knave, to my question, how came this man slain?

_Adam._ Slain! why [the] ale is strong ale, 'tis huffcap;[85] I warrant you, 'twill make a man well.--Tapster, ho! for the king a cup of ale and a fresh toast; here's two races more.

_Alvi._ Why, good fellow, the king talks not of drink; he would have thee tell him how this man came dead.

_Adam._ Dead! nay, I think I am alive yet, and will drink a full pot ere night: but hear ye, if ye be the wench that filled us drink, why, so, do your office, and give us a fresh pot; or if you be the tapster's wife, why, so, wash the glass clean.

_Alvi._ He is so drunk, my lord, there is no talking with him.

_Adam._ Drunk! nay, then, wench, I am not drunk: th'art shitten quean to call me drunk; I tell thee I am not drunk, I am a smith, I.

_Enter the_ Smith.

_First Lord._ Sir, here comes one perhaps that can tell.

_Smith._ God save you, master.

_Rasni._ Smith, canst thou tell me how this man came dead?

_Smith._ May it please your highness, my man here and a crew of them went to the ale-house, and came out so drunk that one of them killed another; and now, sir, I am fain to leave my shop, and come to fetch him home.

_Rasni._ Some of you carry away the dead body: drunken men must have their fits; and, sirrah smith, hence with thy man.

_Smith._ Sirrah, you, rise, come go with me.

_Adam._ If we shall have a pot of ale, let's have it; here's money; hold, tapster, take my purse.

_Smith._ Come, then, with me, the pot stands full in the house.

_Adam._ I am for you, let's go, th'art an honest tapster: we'll drink six pots ere we part. [_Exeunt_ Smith, ADAM; _and_ Attendants _with the dead body._]

_Rasni._ Beauteous, more bright than beauty in mine eyes, Tell me, fair sweeting, want'st thou anything Contain'd within the threefold circle of the world, That may make Alvida live full content?

_Alvi._ Nothing, my lord; for all my thoughts are pleas'd, Whenas mine eye surfeits with Rasni's sight.

_Enter the_ KING OF PAPHLAGONIA _malcontent._

_Rasni._ Look how thy husband haunts our royal court, How still his sight breeds melancholy storms. O, Alvida, I am passing passionate, And vex'd with wrath and anger to the death! Mars, when he held fair Venus on his knee, And saw the limping smith come from his forge, Had not more deeper furrows in his brow Than Rasni hath to see this Paphlagon.

_Alvi._ Content thee, sweet, I'll salve thy sorrow straight; Rest but the ease of all thy thoughts on me, And if I make not Rasni blithe again, Then say that women's fancies have no shifts.

_K. of Paph._ Sham'st thou not, Rasni, though thou be'st a king, To shroud adultery in thy royal seat? Art thou arch-ruler of great Nineveh, Who shouldst excel in virtue as in state, And wrong'st thy friend by keeping back his wife? Have I not battled in thy troops full oft, 'Gainst Ægypt, Jewry, and proud Babylon, Spending my blood to purchase thy renown, And is the guerdon of my chivalry Ended in this abusing of my wife? Restore her me, or I will from thy court, And make discourse of thy adulterous deeds.

_Rasni._ Why, take her, Paphlagon, exclaim not, man; For I do prize mine honour more than love.-- Fair Alvida, go with thy husband home.

_Alvi._ How dare I go, sham'd with so deep misdeed? Revenge will broil within my husband's breast, And when he hath me in the court at home, Then Alvida shall feel revenge for all.

_Rasni._ What say'st thou, King of Paphlagon, to this? Thou hear'st the doubt thy wife doth stand upon. If she hath done amiss, it is my fault; I prithee, pardon and forget [it] all.

_K. of Paph._ If that I meant not, Rasni, to forgive, And quite forget the follies that are past, I would not vouch her presence in my court; But she shall be my queen, my love, my life, And Alvida unto her Paphlagon, And lov'd, and more belovèd than before.

_Rasni._ What say'st thou, Alvida, to this?

_Alvi._ That, will he swear it to my lord the king, And in a full carouse of Greekish wine Drink down the malice of his deep revenge, I will go home and love him new again.

_Rasni._ What answers Paphlagon?

_K. of Paph._ That what she hath requested I will do.

_Alvi._ Go, damosel, fetch me that sweet wine That stands within my closet on the shelf; Pour it into a standing-bowl of gold, But, on thy life, taste not before the king: Make haste. [_Exit_ Female Attendant. Why is great Rasni melancholy thus? If promise be not kept, hate all for me. [_Wine brought in by_ Female Attendant. Here is the wine, my lord: first make him swear.

_K. of Paph._ By Nineveh's great gods, and Nineveh's great king, My thoughts shall never be to wrong my wife! And thereon here's a full carouse to her. [_Drinks._

_Alvi._ And thereon, Rasni, here's a kiss for thee; Now may'st thou freely fold thine Alvida.

_K. of Paph._ O, I am dead! obstruction's of my breath! The poison is of wondrous sharp effect. Cursèd be all adulterous queans, say I! And cursing so, poor Paphlagon doth die. [_Dies._

_Alvi._ Now, have I not salv'd the sorrows of my lord? Have I not rid a rival of thy loves? What say'st thou, Rasni, to thy paramour?

_Rasni._ That for this deed I'll deck my Alvida In sendal and in costly sussapine,[86] Border'd with pearl and India diamond. I'll cause great Æol perfume all his winds With richest myrrh and curious ambergris. Come, lovely minion, paragon for fair, Come, follow me, sweet goddess of mine eye, And taste the pleasures Rasni will provide. [_Exeunt._

_Oseas._ Where whoredom reigns, there murder follows fast, As falling leaves before the winter blast. A wicked life, train'd up in endless crime, Hath no regard unto the latter time, When lechers shall be punish'd for their lust, When princes plagu'd because they are unjust. Foresee in time, the warning bell doth toll; Subdue the flesh, by prayer to save the soul: London, behold the cause of others' wrack, And see the sword of justice at thy back: Defer not off, to-morrow is too late; By night he comes perhaps to judge thy state.

ACT THE THIRD