SCENE II.[4224

_Loud music_. _Enter_ GRONEAS _and_ HEMOPHIL, _leading_ EUPHRANEA; CHRISTALLA _and_ PHILEMA, _leading_ PROPHILUS; NEARCHUS _supporting_ CALANTHA; CROTOLON _and_ AMELUS. _Cease loud music; all make a stand._

_Cal._ We miss our servant Ithocles and Orgilus; On whom attend they?

_Crot._ My son, gracious princess, Whisper’d some new device, to which these revels Should be but usher: wherein I conceive Lord Ithocles and himself are actors. 5

_Cal._ A fair excuse for absence: as for Bassanes, Delights to him are troublesome: Armostes Is with the king?

_Crot._ He is.

_Cal._ On to the dance!— Dear cousin, hand you the bride; the bridegroom must be Intrusted to my courtship. Be not jealous, 10 Euphranea; I shall scarcely prove a temptress.— Fall to our dance.

MUSIC.

NEARCHUS _dances with_ EUPHRANEA, PROPHILUS _with_ CALANTHA, CHRISTALLA _with_ HEMOPHIL, PHILEMA _with_ GRONEAS.

_They dance the first change: during which_ ARMOSTES _enters._

_Arm._ (_in_ Calantha’s _ear_.) The king your father ’s dead.

_Cal._ To the other change.

_Arm._ Is ’t possible? _They dance again._

_Enter_ BASSANES.

_Bass._ [_whispers_ CALANTHA.] O, madam! Penthea, poor Penthea ’s starved.

_Cal._ Beshrew thee!— Lead to the next.

_Bass._ Amazement dulls my senses. 15

_They dance again._

_Enter_ ORGILUS.

_Org._ [_whispers_ CALANTHA.] Brave Ithocles is murder’d, murder’d cruelly.

_Cal._ How dull this music sounds! Strike up more sprightly; Our footings are not active like our heart, Which treads the nimbler measure.

_Org._ I am thunderstruck. _The last change. Cease music._

_Cal._ So! let us breathe awhile.—Hath not this motion, 20 Rais’d fresher colour on your cheeks?

_Near._ Sweet princess, A perfect purity of blood enamels The beauty of your white.

_Cal._ We all look cheerfully; And, cousin, ’t is, methinks, a rare presumption In any who prefer our lawful pleasures 25 Before their own sour censure, t’ interrupt The custom of this ceremony bluntly.

_Near._ None dares, lady.

_Cal._ Yes, yes; some hollow voice deliver’d to me How that the king was dead.

_Arm._ The king is dead: 30 That fatal news was mine; for in mine arms He breath’d his last, and with his crown bequeath’d ye Your mother’s wedding ring; which here I tender.

_Crot._ Most strange!

_Cal._ Peace crown his ashes! We are queen, then. 35

_Near._ Long live Calantha! Sparta’s sovereign queen!

_All._ Long live the queen!

_Cal._ What whispered Bassanes?

_Bass._ That my Penthea, miserable soul, Was starv’d to death.

_Cal._ She ’s happy; she hath finish’d A long and painful progress.—A third murmur Pierc’d mine unwilling ears.

_Org._ That Ithocles 41 Was murder’d;—rather butcher’d, had not bravery Of an undaunted spirit, conquering terror, Proclaim’d his last act triumph over ruin.

_Arm._ How! murder’d!

_Cal._ By whose hand?

_Org._ By mine; this weapon 45 Was instrument to my revenge: the reasons Are just, and known; quit him of these, and then Never liv’d gentleman of greater merit, Hope or abiliment[4225] to steer a kingdom.

_Crot._ Fie, Orgilus!

_Euph._ Fie, brother!

_Cal._ You have done it? 50

_Bass._ How it was done let him report, the forfeit Of whose allegiance to our laws doth covet Rigour of justice; but that done it is, Mine eyes have been an evidence of credit Too sure to be convinc’d.[4226] Armostes, rent not Thine arteries with hearing the bare circumstances 56 Of these calamities; thou ’st lost a nephew, A niece, and I a wife: continue man still; Make me the pattern of digesting evils, Who can outlive my mighty ones, not shrinking 60 At such a pressure as would sink a soul Into what ’s most of death, the worst of horrors. But I have seal’d a covenant with sadness, And enter’d into bonds without condition, To stand these tempests calmly; mark me, nobles, 65 I do not shed a tear, not for Penthea! Excellent misery!

_Cal._ We begin our reign With a first act of justice: thy confession, Unhappy Orgilus, dooms thee a sentence; But yet thy father’s or thy sister’s presence 70 Shall be excus’d.—Give, Crotolon, a blessing To thy lost son;—Euphranea, take a farewell;— And both be gone.

_Crot._ [_to_ ORGILUS.] Confirm thee, noble sorrow, In worthy resolution!

_Euph._ Could my tears speak, My griefs were slight.

_Org._ All goodness dwell amongst ye! 75 Enjoy my sister, Prophilus: my vengeance Aim’d never at thy prejudice.

_Cal._ Now withdraw. _Exeunt_ CROTOLON, PROPHILUS, _and_ EUPHRANEA. Bloody relater of thy stains in blood, For that thou hast reported him, whose fortunes And life by thee are both at once snatch’d from him, 80 With honourable mention, make thy choice Of what death likes thee best; there ’s all our bounty.— But to excuse delays, let me, dear cousin, Intreat you and these lords see execution Instant before ye part.

_Near._ Your will commands us. 85

_Org._ One suit, just queen, my last: vouchsafe your clemency, That by no common hand I be divided From this my humble frailty.

_Cal._ To their wisdoms Who are to be spectators of thine end I make the reference. Those that are dead 90 Are dead; had they not now died, of necessity They must have paid the debt they ow’d to nature One time or other.—Use dispatch, my lords; We ’ll suddenly prepare our coronation. _Exeunt_ CALANTHA, PHILEMA, _and_ CHRISTALLA.

_Arm._ ’T is strange these tragedies should never touch on 95 Her female pity.

_Bass._ She has a masculine spirit; And wherefore should I pule, and, like a girl, Put finger in the eye? Let ’s be all toughness, Without distinction betwixt sex and sex.

_Near._ Now, Orgilus, thy choice?

_Org._ To bleed to death. 100

_Arm._ The executioner?

_Org._ Myself, no surgeon; I am well skill’d in letting blood. Bind fast This arm, that so the pipes may from their conduits Convey a full stream; here ’s a skilful instrument. [_Shows his dagger._] Only I am a beggar to some charity 105 To speed me in this execution By lending th’ other prick to th’ tother arm, When this is bubbling life out.

_Bass._ I am for ye; It most concerns my art, my care, my credit.— Quick, fillet both his arms.

_Org._ Gramercy, friendship! 110 Such courtesies are real which flow cheerfully Without an expectation of requital. Reach me a staff in this hand. [_They give him a staff._] —If a proneness Or custom in my nature from my cradle Had been inclin’d to fierce and eager bloodshed, 115 A coward guilt, hid in a coward quaking, Would have betray’d fame to ignoble flight And vagabond pursuit of dreadful safety: But look upon my steadiness, and scorn not The sickness of my fortune, which, since Bassanes 120 Was husband to Penthea, had lain bed-rid. We trifle time in words:—thus I show cunning In opening of a vein too full, too lively. [_Pierces the vein with his dagger._]

_Arm._ Desperate courage!

[_Near._][4227] Honourable infamy!

_Hem._ I tremble at the sight.

_Gro._ Would I were loose! 125

_Bass._ It sparkles like a lusty wine new broacht; The vessel must be sound from which it issues.— Grasp hard this other stick—I ’ll be as nimble— But prithee, look not pale—have at ye! stretch out Thine arm with vigour and [with][4228] unshook virtue. [_Opens the vein._] Good! O, I envy not a rival, fitted 131 To conquer in extremities. This pastime Appears majestical; some high-tun’d poem Hereafter shall deliver to posterity The writer’s glory and his subject’s triumph. 135 How is ’t, man? Droop not yet.

_Org._ I feel no palsies. On a pair-royal do I wait in death; My sovereign, as his liegeman; on my mistress, As a devoted servant; and on Ithocles, As if no brave, yet no unworthy enemy. 140 Nor did I use an engine to entrap His life, out of a slavish fear to combat Youth, strength, or cunning;[4229] but for that I durst not Engage the goodness of a cause on fortune, By which his name might have outfac’d my vengeance. 145 O, Tecnicus, inspir’d with Phoebus’ fire! I call to mind thy augury, ’t was perfect; _Revenge proves its own executioner_. When feeble man is bending to his mother, The dust ’a was first fram’d on, thus be totters.

_Bass._ Life’s fountain is dri’d up.

_Org._ So falls the standard 151 Of my prerogative in being a creature! A mist hangs o’er mine eyes, the sun’s bright splendour Is clouded in an everlasting shadow; Welcome, thou ice, that sitt’st about my heart No heat can ever thaw thee. _Dies._

_Near._ Speech hath left him. 156

_Bass._ ’A has shook hands with time; his funeral urn Shall be my charge: remove the bloodless body. The coronation must require attendance; That past, my few days can be but one mourning. _Exeunt._ 160