Philaster - Francis Beaumont and John Fletcher
_Bell_. No by my life.
_Phi_. Why then she does not love me; come, she does,
I had her do it; I charg'd her by all charms
Of love between us, by the hope of peace
We should enjoy, to yield thee all delights
Naked, as to her bed: I took her oath
Thou should'st enjoy her: Tell me gentle boy,
Is she not paralleless? Is not her breath
Sweet as _Arabian_ winds, when fruits are ripe?
Are not her breasts two liquid Ivory balls?
Is she not all a lasting Mine of joy?
_Bell_. I, now I see why my disturbed thoughts
Were so perplext. When first I went to her,
My heart held augury; you are abus'd,
Some villain has abus'd you; I do see
Whereto you tend; fall Rocks upon his head,
That put this to you; 'tis some subtil train,
To bring that noble frame of yours to nought.
_Phi_. Thou think'st I will be angry with thee; Come
Thou shalt know all my drift, I hate her more,
Than I love happiness, and plac'd thee there,
To pry with narrow eyes into her deeds;
Hast thou discover'd? Is she fain to lust,
As I would wish her? Speak some comfort to me.
_Bell_. My Lord, you did mistake the boy you sent:
Had she the lust of Sparrows, or of Goats;
Had she a sin that way, hid from the world,
Beyond the name of lust, I would not aid
Her base desires; but what I came to know
As servant to her, I would not reveal, to make
my life last ages.
_Phi_. Oh my heart; this is a salve worse than the main disease.
Tell me thy thoughts; for I will know the least
That dwells within thee, or will rip thy heart
To know it; I will see thy thoughts as plain,
As I do know thy face.
_Bell_. Why, so you do.
She is (for ought I know) by all the gods,
As chaste as Ice; but were she foul as Hell
And I did know it, thus; the breath of Kings,
The points of Swords, Tortures nor Bulls of Brass,
Should draw it from me.
_Phi_. Then 'tis no time to dally with thee;
I will take thy life, for I do hate thee; I could curse
thee now.
_Bell_. If you do hate you could not curse me worse;
The gods have not a punishment in store
Greater for me, than is your hate.
_Phi_. Fie, fie, so young and so dissembling;
Tell me when and where thou di[d]st enjoy her,
Or let plagues fall on me, if I destroy thee not.
_Bell_. Heaven knows I never did: and when I lie
To save my life, may I live long and loath'd.
Hew me asunder, and whilst I can think
I'le love those pieces you have cut away,
Better than those that grow: and kiss these limbs,
Because you made 'em so.
_Phi_. Fearest thou not death?
Can boys contemn that?
_Bell_. Oh, what boy is he
Can be content to live to be a man
That sees the best of men thus passionate, thus
without reason?
_Phi_. Oh, but thou dost not know what 'tis to die.
_Bell_. Yes, I do know my Lord;
'Tis less than to be born; a lasting sleep,
A quiet resting from all jealousie;
A thing we all pursue; I know besides,
It is but giving over of a game that must be lost.
_Phi_. But there are pains, false boy,
For perjur'd souls; think but on these, and then
Thy heart will melt, and thou wilt utter all.
_Bell_. May they fall all upon me whilst I live,
If I be perjur'd, or have ever thought
Of that you charge me with; if I be false,
Send me to suffer in those punishments you speak of;
kill me.
_Phi_. Oh, what should I do?
Why, who can but believe him? He does swear
So earnestly, that if it were not true,
The gods would not endure him. Rise _Bellario_,
Thy protestations are so deep; and thou
Dost look so truly, when thou utterest them,
That though I [know] 'em false, as were my hopes,
I cannot urge thee further; but thou wert
To blame to injure me, for I must love
Thy honest looks, and take no revenge upon
Thy tender youth; A love from me to thee
Is firm, what ere thou dost: It troubles me
That I have call'd the blood out of thy cheeks,
That did so well become thee: but good boy
Let me not see thee more; something is done,
That will distract me, that will make me mad,
If I behold thee: if thou tender'st me,
Let me not see thee.
_Bell_. I will fly as far
As there is morning, ere I give distaste
To that most honour'd mind. But through these tears
Shed at my hopeless parting, I can see
A world of Treason practis'd upon you,
And her and me. Farewel for evermore;
If you shall hear, that sorrow struck me dead,
And after find me Loyal, let there be
A tear shed from you in my memorie,
And I shall rest at peace.
[_Exit_ Bel.
_Phi_. Blessing be with thee,
What ever thou deserv'st. Oh, where shall I
Go bath thy body? Nature too unkind,
That made no medicine for a troubled mind!
[_Exit_. Phi.
_Enter_ Arethuse.
_Are_. I marvel my boy comes not back again;
But that I know my love will question him
Over and over; how I slept, wak'd, talk'd;
How I remembred him when his dear name
Was last spoke, and how, when I sigh'd, wept, sung,
And ten thousand such; I should be angry at his stay.
[_Enter _King.
_King_. What are your meditations? who attends you?
_Are_. None but my single self, I need no Guard,
I do no wrong, nor fear none.
_King_. Tell me: have you not a boy?
_Are_. Yes Sir.
_King_. What kind of boy?
_Are_. A Page, a waiting boy.
_King_. A handsome boy?
_Are_. I think he be not ugly:
Well qualified, and dutiful, I know him,
I took him not for beauty.
_King_. He speaks, and sings and plays?
_Are_. Yes Sir.
_King_. About Eighteen?
_Are_. I never ask'd his age.
_King_. Is he full of service?
_Are_. By your pardon why do you ask?
_King_. Put him away.
_Are_. Sir?
_King_. Put him away, h'as done you that good service,
Shames me to speak of.
_Are_. Good Sir let me understand you.
_King_. If you fear me, shew it in duty; put away that boy.
_Are_. Let me have reason for it Sir, and then
Your will is my command.
_King_. Do not you blush to ask it? Cast him off,
Or I shall do the same to you. Y'are one
Shame with me, and so near unto my self,
That by my life, I dare not tell my self,
What you, my self have done.
_Are_. What have I done my Lord?
_King_. 'Tis a new language, that all love to learn,
The common people speak it well already,
They need no Grammer; understand me well,
There be foul whispers stirring; cast him off!
And suddenly do it: Farewel.
[_Exit_ King.
_Are_. Where may a Maiden live securely free,
Keeping her Honour safe? Not with the living,
They feed upon opinions, errours, dreams,
And make 'em truths: they draw a nourishment
Out of defamings, grow upon disgraces,
And when they see a vertue fortified
Strongly above the battery of their tongues;
Oh, how they cast to sink it; and defeated
(Soul sick with Poyson) strike the Monuments
Where noble names lie sleeping: till they sweat,
And the cold Marble melt.
_Enter_ Philaster.
_Phi_. Peace to your fairest thoughts, dearest Mistress.
_Are_. Oh, my dearest servant I have a War within me.
_Phi_. He must be more than man, that makes these Crystals
Run into Rivers; sweetest fair, the cause;
And as I am your slave, tied to your goodness,
Your creature made again from what I was,
And newly spirited, I'le right your honours.
_Are_. Oh, my best love; that boy!
_Phi_. What boy?
_Are_. The pretty boy you gave me.
_Phi_. What of him?
_Are_. Must be no more mine.
_Phi_. Why?
_Are_. They are jealous of him.
_Phi_. Jealous, who?
_Are_. The King.
_Phi_. Oh, my fortune,
Then 'tis no idle jealousie. Let him go.
_Are_. Oh cruel, are you hard hearted too?
Who shall now tell you, how much I lov'd you;
Who shall swear it to you, and weep the tears I send?
Who shall now bring you Letters, Rings, Bracelets,
Lose his health in service? wake tedious nights
In stories of your praise? Who shall sing
Your crying Elegies? And strike a sad soul
Into senseless Pictures, and make them mourn?
Who shall take up his Lute, and touch it, till
He crown a silent sleep upon my eye-lid,
Making me dream and cry, Oh my dear, dear _Philaster_.
_Phi_. Oh my heart!
Would he had broken thee, that made thee know
This Lady was not Loyal. Mistress, forget
The boy, I'le get thee a far better.
_Are_. Oh never, never such a boy again, as my _Bellario_.
_Phi_. 'Tis but your fond affection.
_Are_. With thee my boy, farewel for ever,
All secrecy in servants: farewel faith,
And all desire to do well for it self:
Let all that shall succeed thee, for thy wrongs,
Sell and betray chast love.
_Phi_. And all this passion for a boy?
_Are_. He was your boy, and you put him to me,
And the loss of such must have a mourning for.
_Phi_. O thou forgetful woman!
_Are_. How, my Lord?
_Phi_. False _Arethusa_!
Hast thou a Medicine to restore my wits,
When I have lost 'em? If not, leave to talk, and do thus.
_Are_. Do what Sir? would you sleep?
_Phi_. For ever _Arethusa_. Oh you gods,
Give me a worthy patience; Have I stood
Naked, alone the shock of many fortunes?
Have I seen mischiefs numberless, and mighty
Grow li[k]e a sea upon me? Have I taken
Danger as stern as death into my bosom,
And laught upon it, made it but a mirth,
And flung it by? Do I live now like him,
Under this Tyrant King, that languishing
Hears his sad Bell, and sees his Mourners? Do I
Bear all this bravely, and must sink at length
Under a womans falshood? Oh that boy,
That cursed boy? None but a villain boy, to ease
your lust?
_Are_. Nay, then I am betray'd,
I feel the plot cast for my overthrow; Oh I am wretched.
_Phi_. Now you may take that little right I have
To this poor Kingdom; give it to your Joy,
For I have no joy in it. Some far place,
Where never womankind durst set her foot,
For bursting with her poisons, must I seek,
And live to curse you;
There dig a Cave, and preach to birds and beasts,
What woman is, and help to save them from you.
How heaven is in your eyes, but in your hearts,
More hell than hell has; how your tongues like Scorpions,
Both heal and poyson; how your thoughts are woven
With thousand changes in one subtle webb,
And worn so by you. How that foolish man,
That reads the story of a womans face,
And dies believing it, is lost for ever.
How all the good you have, is but a shadow,
I'th' morning with you, and at night behind you,
Past and forgotten. How your vows are frosts,
Fast for a night, and with the next sun gone.
How you are, being taken all together,
A meer confusion, and so dead a _Chaos_,
That love cannot distinguish. These sad Texts
Till my last hour, I am bound to utter of you.
So farewel all my wo, all my delight.
[_Exit_ Phi.
_Are_. Be merciful ye gods and strike me dead;
What way have I deserv'd this? make my breast
Transparent as pure Crystal, that the world
Jealous of me, may see the foulest thought
My heart holds. Where shall a woman turn her eyes,
To find out constancy? Save me, how black,
[_Enter_ Bell.
And guilty (me thinks) that boy looks now?
Oh thou dissembler, that before thou spak'st
Wert in thy cradle false? sent to make lies,
And betray Innocents; thy Lord and thou,
May glory in the ashes of a Maid
Fool'd by her passion; but the conquest is
Nothing so great as wicked. Fly away,
Let my command force thee to that, which shame
Would do without it. If thou understoodst
The loathed Office thou hast undergone,
Why, thou wouldst hide thee under heaps of hills,
Lest men should dig and find thee.
_Bell_. Oh what God
Angry with men, hath sent this strange disease
Into the noblest minds? Madam this grief
You add unto me is no more than drops
To seas, for which they are not seen to swell;
My Lord had struck his anger through my heart,
And let out all the hope of future joyes,
You need not bid me fly, I came to part,
To take my latest leave, Farewel for ever;
I durst not run away in honesty,
From such a Lady, like a boy that stole,
Or made some grievous fault; the power of gods
Assist you in your sufferings; hasty time
Reveal the truth to your abused Lord,
And mine: That he may know your worth: whilst I
Go seek out some forgotten place to die.
[_Exit_ Bell.
_Are_. Peace guide thee, th'ast overthrown me once,
Yet if I had another _Troy_ to lose,
Thou or another villain with thy looks,
Might talk me out of it, and send me naked,
My hair dishevel'd through the fiery streets.
[ _Enter a_ Lady
_La_. Madam, the King would hunt, and calls for you
With earnestness.
_Are_. I am in tune to hunt!
_Diana_ if thou canst rage with a maid,
As with a man, let me discover thee
Bathing, and turn me to a fearful Hind,
That I may die pursu'd by cruel Hounds,
And have my story written in my wounds.
[_Exeunt_.
_Actus Quartus. Scena Prima_.
_Enter_ King, Pharamond, Arethusa, Galatea, Megra,
Dion, Cleremont, Thrasilin, _and Attendants_.
_K_. What, are the Hounds before, and all the woodmen?
Our horses ready, and our bows bent?
_Di_. All Sir.
_King_. Y'are cloudy Sir, come we have forgotten
Your venial trespass, let not that sit heavy
Upon your spirit; none dare utter it.
_Di_. He looks like an old surfeited Stallion after his leaping,
dull as a Dormouse: see how he sinks; the wench has shot
him between wind and water, and I hope sprung a leak.
_Thra_. He needs no teaching, he strikes sure enough; his
greatest fault is, he Hunts too much in the Purlues,
would he would leave off Poaching.
_Di_. And for his horn, has left it at the Lodge where he
lay late; Oh, he's a precious Lime-hound; turn him loose
upon the pursuit of a Lady, and if he lose her, hang him
up i'th' slip. When my Fox-bitch Beauty grows proud, I'le
borrow him.
_King_. Is your Boy turn'd away?
_Are_. You did command Sir, and I obey you.
_King_. 'Tis well done: Hark ye further.
_Cle_. Is't possible this fellow should repent? Me thinks that
were not noble in him: and yet he looks like a mortified
member, as if he had a sick mans Salve in's mouth. If
a worse man had done this fault now, some Physical
Justice or other, would presently (without the help of
an Almanack) have opened the obstructions of his
Liver, and let him bloud with a Dog-whip.
_Di_. See, see, how modestly your Lady looks, as if she came
from Churching with her Neighbour; why, what a Devil
can a man see in her face, but that she's honest?
_Pha_. Troth no great matter to speak of, a foolish twinkling
with the eye, that spoils her Coat; but he must be a
cunning Herald that finds it.
_Di_. See how they Muster one another! O there's a Rank
Regiment where the Devil carries the Colours, and his Dam
Drum major, now the world and the flesh come behind with
the Carriage.
_Cle_. Sure this Lady has a good turn done her against her
will: before she was common talk, now none dare say,
Cantharides can stir her, her face looks like a Warrant,
willing and commanding all Tongues, as they will answer it,
to be tied up and bolted when this Lady means to let her
self loose. As I live she has got her a goodly protection,
and a gracious; and may use her body discreetly, for her
healths sake, once a week, excepting Lent and Dog-days:
Oh if they were to be got for mony, what a great sum would
come out of the City for these Licences?
_King_. To horse, to horse, we lose the morning, Gentlemen.
[_Exeunt_.
_Enter two_ Woodmen.
_1 Wood_.What, have you lodged the Deer?
_2 Wood_. Yes, they are ready for the Bow.
_1 Wood_. Who shoots?
_2 Wood_. The Princess.
_1 Wood_. No she'l Hunt.
_2 Wood_. She'l take a Stand I say.
_1 Wood_. Who else?
_2 Wood_. Why the young stranger Prince.
_1 Wood_. He shall Shoot in a Stone-bow for me. I never
lov'd his beyond-sea-ship, since he forsook the Say,
for paying Ten shillings: he was there at the fall of a
Deer, and would needs (out of his mightiness) give Ten
groats for the Dowcers; marry the Steward would have
had the Velvet-head into the bargain, to Turf his Hat
withal: I think he should love Venery, he is an old Sir
_Tristram_; for if you be remembred, he forsook the
Stagg once, to strike a Rascal Milking in a Medow, and
her he kill'd in the eye. Who shoots else?
_2 Wood_. The Lady _Galatea_.
_1 Wood_. That's a good wench, and she would not chide us
for tumbling of her women in the Brakes. She's liberal,
and by my Bow they say she's honest, and whether that
be a fault, I have nothing to do. There's all?
_2 Wood_. No, one more, _Megra_.
_1 Wood_. That's a firker I'faith boy; there's a wench will
Ride her Haunces as hard after a Kennel of Hounds, as a
Hunting-saddle; and when she comes home, get 'em clapt,
and all is well again. I have known her lose her self
three times in one Afternoon (if the Woods had been
answerable) and it has been work enough for one man
to find her, and he has sweat for it. She Rides well, and
she payes well. Hark, let's go.
[_Exeunt_.
_Enter_ Philaster.
_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?