 | A King, and no King |  |
Actus Quartus.
Enter Gobrias, Panthea, and Spaconia.Gob.
Have you written Madam?
Pan.
Yes, good Gobrias.
Gob.
And with a kindness, and such winning words
As may provoke him, at one instant feel
His double fault, your wrong, and his own rashness?
Pan.
I have sent words enough, if words may win him
From his displeasure; and such words I hope,
As shall gain much upon his goodness, Gobrias.
Yet fearing they are many, and a womans,
A poor belief may follow, I have woven
As many truths within 'em to speak for me,
That if he be but gracious, and receive 'em—
Gob.
Good Lady be not fearful, though he should not
Give you your present end in this, believe it,
You shall feel, if your vertue can induce you
To labour on't, this tempest which I know,
Is but a poor proof 'gainst your patience:
All those contents, your spirit will arrive at,
Newer and sweeter to you; your Royal brother,
When he shall once collect himself, and see
How far he has been asunder from himself;
What a meer stranger to his golden temper:
Must from those roots of vertue, never dying,
Though somewhat stopt with humour, shoot again
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High as our hopes can look at, straight as justice,
Loaden with ripe contents; he loves you dearly,
I know it, and I hope I need not farther
Win you to understand it.
Pan.
I believe it.
But howsoever, I am sure I love him dearly:
So dearly, that if any thing I write
For my enlarging should beget his anger,
Heaven be a witness with me and my faith,
I had rather live intomb'd here.
Gob.
You shall not feel a worse stroke than your grief,
I am sorry 'tis so sharp, I kiss your hand,
And this night will deliver this true story,
With this hand to your Brother.
Pan.
Peace go with you, you are a good man.
[Exit Gob.
My Spaconia, why are you ever sad thus?
Spa.
O dear Lady.
Pan.
Prethee discover not a way to sadness,
Nearer than I have in me, our two sorrows
Work like two eager Hawks, who shall get highest;
How shall I lessen thine? for mine I fear
Is easier known than cur'd.
Spa.
Heaven comfort both,
And give you happy ends, however I
Fall in my stubborn fortunes.
Pan.
This but teaches
How to be more familiar with our sorrows,
That are too much our masters: good Spaconia
How shall I do you service?
Spa.
Noblest Lady,
You make me more a slave still to your goodness,
And only live to purchase thanks to pay you,
For that is all the business of my life: now
I will be bold, since you will have it so,
To ask a noble favour of you.
Pan.
Speak it, 'tis yours, for from so sweet a vertue,
No ill demand has issue.
Spa.
Then ever vertuous, let me beg your will
In helping me to see the Prince Tigranes,
With whom I am equal prisoner, if not more.
Pan.
Reserve me to a greater end Spaconia;
Bacurius cannot want so much good manners
As to deny your gentle visitation,
Though you came only with your own command.
Spa.
I know they will deny me gracious Madam,
Being a stranger, and so little fam'd,
So utter empty of those excellencies
That tame Authority; but in you sweet Lady,
All these are natural; beside, a power
Deriv'd immediate from your Royal brother,
Whose least word in you may command the Kingdom.
Pan.
More than my word Spaconia, you shall carry,
For fear it fail you.
Spa.
Dare you trust a Token?
Madam I fear I am grown too bold a begger.
Pan.
You are a pretty one, and trust me Lady
It joyes me, I shall do a good to you,
Though to my self I never shall be happy:
Here, take this Ring, and from me as a Token
Deliver it; I think they will not stay you:
So all your own desires go with you Lady.
Spa.
And sweet peace to your Grace.
Pan.
Pray Heaven I find it.
[Exeunt.
Enter Tigranes, in prison.
Tigr.
Fool that I am, I have undone my self,
And with my own hand turn'd my fortune round,
That was a fair one: I have childishly
Plaid with my hope so long, till I have broke it,
And now too late I mourn for't; O Spaconia!
Thou hast found an even way to thy revenge now,
Why didst thou follow me like a faint shadow,
To wither my desires? But wretched fool,
Why did I plant thee 'twixt the Sun and me,
To make me freeze thus? Why did I prefer her
To the fair Princess? O thou fool, thou fool,
Thou family of fools, live like a slave still,
And in thee bear thine own hell and thy torment,
Thou hast deserv'd: Couldst thou find no Lady
But she that has thy hopes to put her to,
And hazard all thy peace? None to abuse,
But she that lov'd thee ever? poor Spaconia,
And so much lov'd thee, that in honesty
And honour thou art bound to meet her vertues:
She that forgot the greatness of her grief
And miseries, that must follow such mad passions,
Endless and wild as women; she that for thee
And with thee left her liberty, her name,
And Country, you have paid me equal, Heavens,
And sent my own rod to correct me with;
A woman: for inconstancy I'le suffer,
Lay it on justice, till my soul melt in me
For my unmanly, beastly, sudden doting
Upon a new face: after all my oaths
Many and strange ones,
I feel my old fire flame again and burn
So strong and violent, that should I see her
Again, the grief and that would kill me.
Enter Bacurius and Spaconia.
Bac.
Lady, your token I acknowledge, you may pass;
There is the King.
Spa.
I thank your Lordship for it.
[Exit Bac.
Tigr.
She comes, she comes, shame hide me ever from her,
Would I were buried, or so far remov'd
Light might not find me out, I dare not see her.
Spa.
Nay never hide your self; or were you hid
Where earth hides all her riches, near her Center;
My wrongs without more day would light me to you:
I must speak e're I die; were all your greatness
Doubled upon you, y'are a perjur'd man,
And only mighty in your wickedness
Of wronging women. Thou art false, false Prince;
I live to see it, poor Spaconia lives
To tell thee thou art false; and then no more;
She lives to tell thee thou art more unconstant,
Than all ill women ever were together.
Thy faith is firm as raging over-flowes,
That no bank can command; as lasting
As boyes gay bubbles, blown i'th' Air and broken:
The wind is fixt to thee: and sooner shall
The beaten Mariner with his shrill whistle
Calm the loud murmur of the troubled main,
And strike it smooth again; than thy soul fall
To have peace in love with any: Thou art all
That all good men must hate; and if thy story
Shall tell succeeding ages what thou wert,
O let it spare me in it, lest true lovers
In pity of my wrong, burn thy black Legend,
And with their curses, shake thy sleeping ashes.
Tigr.
Oh! oh!
Spa.
The destinies, I hope, have pointed out
Our ends, that thou maist die for love,
Though not for me; for this assure thy self,
The Princess hates thee deadly, and will sooner
Be won to marry with a Bull, and safer
Than such a beast as thou art: I have struck,
I fear, too deep; beshrow me for't; Sir,
This sorrow works me like a cunning friendship,
Into the same piece with it; 'tis asham'd,
Alas, I have been too rugged: Dear my Lord,
I am sorry I have spoken any thing,
Indeed I am, that may add more restraint
To that too much you have: good Sir, be pleas'd
To think it was a fault of love, not malice;
And do as I will do, forgive it Prince.
I do, and can forgive the greatest sins
To me you can repent of; pray believe.
54
O my Spaconia! O thou vertuous woman!
Spa.
Nay, more, the King Sir.
Enter Arbaces, Bacurius, Mardonius.
Arb.
Have you been carefull of our noble Prisoner,
That he want nothing fitting for his greatness?
Bac.
I hope his grace will quit me for my care Sir.
Arb.
'Tis well, royal Tigranes, health.
Tigr.
More than the strictness of this place can give Sir,
I offer back again to great Arbaces.
Arb.
We thank you worthy Prince, and pray excuse us,
We have not seen you since your being here,
I hope your noble usage has been equall
With your own person: your imprisonment,
If it be any, I dare say is easie,
And shall not last too dayes.
Tigr.
I thank you;
My usage here has been the same it was,
Worthy a royal Conqueror. For my restraint,
It came unkindly, because much unlook'd for;
But I must bear it.
Arb.
What Lady's that? Bacurius?
Bac.
One of the Princess women, Sir.
Arb.
I fear'd it, why comes she hither?
Bac.
To speak with the Prince Tigranes.
Arb.
From whom, Bacurius?
Bac.
From the Princess, Sir.
Arb.
I knew I had seen her.
Mar.
His fit begins to take him now again,
'Tis a strange Feaver, and 'twill shake us all anon, I fear,
Would he were well cur'd of this raging folly:
Give me the warrs, where men are mad, and may talk
what they list, and held the bravest fellows; This pelting
prating peace is good for nothing: drinking's a vertue to't.
Arb.
I see there's truth in no man, nor obedience,
But for his own ends, why did you let her in?
Bac.
It was your own command to barr none from him,
Besides, the Princess sent her ring Sir, for my warrant.
Arb.
A token to Tigranes, did she not?
Sir tell truth.
Bac.
I do not use to lie Sir,
'Tis no way I eat or live by, and I think,
This is no token Sir.
Mar.
This combat has undone him: if he had been well
beaten, he had been temperate; I shall never see him handsome
again, till he have a Horse-mans staffe yok'd thorow
his shoulders, or an arm broken with a bullet.
Arb.
I am trifled with.
Bac.
Sir?
Arb.
I know it, as I know thee to be false.
Mar.
Now the clap comes.
Bac.
You never knew me so, Sir I dare speak it,
And durst a worse man tell me, though my better—
Mar.
'Tis well said, by my soul.
Arb.
Sirra, you answer as you had no life.
Bac.
That I fear Sir to lose nobly.
Arb.
I say Sir, once again.
Bac.
You may say what yon please, Sir,
Would I might do so.
Arb.
I will, Sir, and say openly, this woman carries letters,
By my life I know she carries letters, this woman does it.
Mar.
Would Bessus were here to take her aside and search
her, He would quickly tell you what she carried Sir.
Arb.
I have found it out, this woman carries letters.
Mar.
If this hold, 'twill be an ill world for Bawdes,
Chamber-maids and Post-boyes, I thank heaven I have none
but his letters patents, things of his own enditing.
Arb.
Prince, this cunning cannot do't.
Tigr.
Doe, What Sir? I reach you not.
Arb.
It shall not serve your turn, Prince.
Tigr.
Serve my turn Sir?
Arb.
I Sir, it shall not serve your turn.
Tigr.
Be plainer, good Sir.
Arb.
This woman shall carry no more letters back to your
Love Panthea, by Heaven she shall not, I say she shall not.
Mar.
This would make a Saint swear like a souldier.
Tigr.
This beats me more, King, than the blowes
you gave me.
Arb.
Take 'em away both, and together let them prisoners
be, strictly and closely kept, or Sirra, your life shall answer
it, and let no body speak with 'em hereafter.
Tigr.
Well, I am subject to you,
And must indure these passions:
This is the imprisonment I have look'd for always.
And the dearer place I would choose.
[Exeunt Tigr. Spa. Bac.
Mar.
Sir, you have done well now.
Arb.
Dare you reprove it?
Mar.
No.
Arb.
You must be crossing me.
Mar.
I have no letters Sir to anger you,
But a dry sonnet of my Corporals
To an old Suttlers wife, and that I'll burn, Sir.
'Tis like to prove a fine age for the Ignorant.
Arb.
How darst thou so often forfeit thy life?
Thou know'st 'tis in my power to take it.
Mar.
Yes, and I know you wo' not, or if you doe, you'll
miss it quickly.
Arb.
Why?
Mar.
Who shall tell you of these childish follies
When I am dead? who shall put to his power
To draw those vertues out of a flood of humors,
When they are drown'd, and make 'em shine again?
No, cut my head off:
Then you may talk, and be believed, and grow worse,
And have your too self-glorious temper rot
Into a deep sleep, and the Kingdom with you,
Till forraign swords be in your throats, and slaughter
Be every where about you like your flatterers.
Do, kill me.
Arb.
Prethee be tamer, good Mardonius,
Thou know'st I love thee, nay I honour thee,
Believe it good old Souldier, I am thine;
But I am rack'd clean from my self, bear with me,
Woot thou bear with me my Mardonius?
Enter Gobrias.
Mar.
There comes a good man, love him too, he's temperate,
You may live to have need of such a vertue,
Rage is not still in fashion.
Arb.
Welcome good Gobrias.
Gob.
My service and this letter to your Grace.
Arb.
From whom?
Gob.
From the rich Mine of vertue and beauty,
Your mournfull Sister.
Arb.
She is in prison, Gobrias, is she not?
Gob.
She is Sir, till your pleasure to enlarge her,
Which on my knees I beg. Oh 'tis not fit,
That all the sweetness of the world in one,
The youth and vertue that would tame wild Tygers,
And wilder people, that have known no manners,
Should live thus cloistred up; for your loves sake,
If there be any in that noble heart,
To her a wretched Lady, and forlorn,
Or for her love to you, which is as much
As nature and obedience ever gave,
Have pity on her beauties.
Arb.
Pray thee stand up; 'Tis true, she is too fair,
And all these commendations but her own,
Would thou had'st never so commended her,
Or I nere liv'd to have heard it Gobrias;
If thou but know'st the wrong her beautie does her,
Thou wouldst in pity of her be a lyar,
Thy ignorance has drawn me wretched man,
Whither my self nor thou canst well tell: O my fate!
I think she loves me, but I fear another
Is deeper in her heart: How thinkst thou Gobrias?
Gob.
I do beseech your Grace believe it not,
For let me perish if it be not false. Good Sir, read her Letter.
Mar.
This Love, or what a devil it is I know not, begets
more mischief than a Wake. I had rather be well beaten,
starv'd, or lowsie, than live within the Air on't. He that
55
but t'other day, and look upon him now, will ne'r believe
his eyes again: if he continue thus but two days more, a
Taylor may beat him with one hand tied behind him.
Arb.
Alas, she would be at liberty.
And there be a thousand reasons Gobrias,
Thousands that will deny 't:
Which if she knew, she would contentedly
Be where she is: and bless her vertues for it,
And me, though she were closer, she would, Gobrias,
Good man indeed she would.
Gob.
Then good Sir, for her satisfaction,
Send for her and with reason make her know
Why she must live thus from you.
Arb.
I will; go bring her to me.
[Exeunt all.
Enter Bessus, and two Sword-men, and a Boy.
Bes.
Y'are very welcome both; some stools boy,
And reach a Table; Gentlemen o'th' Sword,
Pray sit without more complement; be gone child.
I have been curious in the searching of you,
Because I understand you wise and valiant persons.
1
We understand our selves Sir.
Bes.
Nay Gentlemen, and dear friends o'th' Sword,
No complement I pray, but to the cause
I hang upon, which in few, is my honour.
2
You cannot hang too much Sir, for your honour,
But to your cause.
Bes.
Be wise, and speak truth, my first doubt is,
My beating by my Prince.
1
Stay there a little Sir, do you doubt a beating?
Or have you had a beating by your Prince?
Bes.
Gentlemen o'th' Sword, my Prince has beaten me.
2
Brother, what think you of this case?
1
If he has beaten him, the case is clear.
2
If he have beaten him, I grant the case;
But how? we cannot be too subtil in this business,
I say, but how?
Bes.
Even with his Royal hand.
1
Was it a blow of love, or indignation?
Bes.
'Twas twenty blows of indignation, Gentlemen,
Besides two blows o'th' face.
2
Those blows o'th' face have made a new cause on't,
The rest were but an horrible rudeness.
1
Two blows o'th' face, and given by a worse man, I
must confess, as the Sword-men say, had turn'd the business:
Mark me brother, by a worse man; but being by his Prince,
had they been ten, and those ten drawn teeth, besides the
hazard of his nose for ever; all this had been but favours:
this is my flat opinion, which I'le die in.
2
The King may do much Captain, believe it; for had
he crackt your Scull through, like a bottle, or broke a Rib
or two with tossing of you, yet you had lost no honour:
This is strange you may imagine, but this is truth now
Captain.
Bes.
I will be glad to embrace it Gentlemen;
But how far may he strike me?
1
There is another: a new cause rising from the time
and distance, in which I will deliver my opinion: he may
strike, beat, or cause to be beaten: for these are natural
to man: your Prince, I say, may beat you, so far forth as
his dominion reacheth, that's for the distance; the time,
ten miles a day, I take it.
2
Brother, you err, 'tis fifteen miles a day,
His stage is ten, his beatings are fifteen.
Bes.
'Tis the longest, but we subjects must—
1
Be subject to it; you are wise and vertuous.
Bes.
Obedience ever makes that noble use on't,
To which I dedicate my beaten body;
I must trouble you a little further, Gentlemen o'th' Sword.
2
No trouble at all to us Sir, if we may
Profit your understanding, we are bound
By vertue of our calling to utter our opinions,
Shortly, and discreetly.
Bes.
My sorest business is, I have been kick'd.
2
How far Sir?
Bes.
Not to flatter my self in it, all over, my sword
forc'd but not lost; for discreetly I rendred it to save that
imputation.
1
It shew'd discretion, the best part of valour.
2
Brother, this is a pretty cause, pray ponder on't;
Our friend here has been kick'd.
1
Ho has so, brother.
2
Sorely he saies: Now, had he set down here
Upon the meer kick, 't had been Cowardly.
1
I think it had been Cowardly indeed.
2
But our friend has redeem'd it in delivering
His sword without compulsion; and that man
That took it of him, I pronounce a weak one,
And his kicks nullities.
He should have kick'd him after the delivering
Which is the confirmation of a Coward.
1
Brother, I take it, you mistake the question;
For, say that I were kick'd.
2
I must not say so;
Nor I must not hear it spoke by the tongue of man.
You kick'd, dear brother! you're merry.
1
But put the case I were kick'd?
2
Let them put it that are things weary of their lives,
and know not honour; put the case you were kick'd?
1
I do not say I was kickt.
2
Nor no silly creature that wears his head without a
Case, his soul in a Skin-coat: You kickt dear brother?
Bes.
Nay Gentlemen, let us do what we shall do,
Truly and honesty; good Sirs to the question.
1
Why then I say, suppose your Boy kick't, Captain?
2
The Boy may be suppos'd is liable.
1
A foolish forward zeal Sir, in my friend;
But to the Boy, suppose the Boy were kickt.
Bes.
I do suppose it.
1
Has your Boy a sword?
Bes.
Surely no; I pray suppose a sword too.
1
I do suppose it; you grant your Boy was kick't then.
2
By no means Captain, let it be supposed still; the
word grant, makes not for us.
1
I say this must be granted.
2
This must be granted brother?
1
I, this must be granted.
2
Still this must?
1
I say this must be granted.
2
I, give me the must again, brother, you palter.
1
I will not hear you, wasp.
2
Brother, I say you palter, the must three times together;
I wear as sharp Steel as another man, and my Fox
bites as deep, musted, my dear brother.
Bes.
Nay look you Gentlemen.
2
In a word, I ha' done.
1
A tall man but intemperate, 'tis great pity;
Once more suppose the Boy kick'd.
2
Forward.
1
And being thorowly kick'd, laughs at the kicker.
2
So much for us; proceed.
1
And in this beaten scorn, as I may call it,
Delivers up his weapon; where lies the error?
Bes.
It lies i'th' beating Sir, I found it four dayes since.
2
The error, and a sore one as I take it,
Lies in the thing kicking.
Bes.
I understand that well, 'tis so indeed Sir.
1
That is according to the man that did it.
2
There springs a new branch, whose was the foot?
Bes.
A Lords.
1
The cause is mighty, but had it been two Lords,
And both had kick'd you, if you laugh, 'tis clear.
Bes.
I did laugh,
But how will that help me, Gentlemen?
2
Yes, it shall help you if you laught aloud.
Bes.
As loud as a kick'd man could laugh, I laught Sir.
1
My reason now, the valiant man is known
56
Enough of both, and you are valiant.
2
If he be sure he has been kick'd enough:
For that brave sufferance you speak of brother,
Consists not in a beating and away,
But in a cudgell'd body, from eighteen
To eight and thirty; in a head rebuk'd
With pots of all size, degrees, stools, and bed-staves,
This showes a valiant man.
Bes.
Then I am valiant; as valiant as the proudest,
For these are all familiar things to me;
Familiar as my sleep, or want of money,
All my whole body's but one bruise with beating,
I think I have been cudgell'd with all nations,
And almost all Religions.
2
Embrace him brother, this man is valiant,
I know it by my self, he's valiant.
1
Captain, thou art a valiant Gentleman,
To bide upon, a very valiant man.
Bes.
My equall friends o'th'Sword, I must request your
hands to this.
2
'Tis fit it should be.
Bes.
Boy, get me some wine, and pen and Ink within:
Am I clear, Gentlemen?
1
Sir, the world has taken notice what we have done,
Make much of your body, for I'll pawn my steel,
Men will be coyer of their legs hereafter.
Bes.
I must request you goe along and testife to the Lord
Bacurius, whose foot has struck me, how you find my cause.
2
We will, and tell that Lord he must be rul'd,
Or there are those abroad, will rule his Lordship.
[Exeunt.
Enter Arbaces at one door, and Gob. and Panthea at another.
Gob.
Sir, here's the Princess.
Arb.
Leave us then alone,
For the main cause of her imprisonment
Must not be heard by any but her self.
[Exit Gob.
You're welcome Sister, and would to heaven
I could so bid you by another name:
If you above love not such sins as these,
Circle my heart with thoughts as cold as snow
To quench these rising flames that harbour here.
Pan.
Sir, does it please you I should speak?
Arb.
Please me?
I, more than all the art of musick can,
Thy speech doth please me, for it ever sounds,
As thou brought'st joyfull unexpected news;
And yet it is not fit thou shouldst be heard.
I pray thee think so.
Pan.
Be it so, I will.
Am I the first that ever had a wrong
So far from being fit to have redress,
That 'twas unfit to hear it? I will back
To prison, rather than disquiet you,
And wait till it be fit.
Arb.
No, do not goe;
For I will hear thee with a serious thought:
I have collected all that's man about me
Together strongly, and I am resolv'd
To hear thee largely, but I do beseech thee,
Do not come nearer to me, for there is
Something in that, that will undoe us both.
Pan.
Alas Sir, am I venome?
Arb.
Yes, to me;
Though of thy self I think thee to be
In equall degree of heat or cold,
As nature can make: yet as unsound men
Convert the sweetest and the nourishing'st meats
Into diseases; so shall I distemper'd,
Do thee, I pray thee draw no nearer to me.
Pan.
Sir, this is that I would: I am of late
Shut from the world, and why it should be thus,
Is all I wish to know.
Arb.
Why credit me Panthea,
Credit me that am thy brother,
Thy loving brother, that there is a cause
Sufficient, yet unfit for thee to know,
That might undoe thee everlastingly,
Only to hear, wilt thou but credit this?
By Heaven 'tis true, believe it if thou canst.
Pan.
Children and fools are ever credulous,
And I am both, I think, for I believe;
If you dissemble, be it on your head;
I'le back unto my prison: yet me thinks
I might be kept in some place where you are;
For in my self, I find I know not what
To call it, but it is a great desire
To see you often.
Arb.
Fie, you come in a step, what do you mean?
Dear sister, do not so: Alas Panthea,
Where I am would you be? Why that's the cause
You are imprison'd, that you may not be
Where I am.
Pan.
Then I must indure it Sir, Heaven keep you.
Arb.
Nay, you shall hear the case in short Panthea,
And when thou hear'st it, thou wilt blush for me,
And hang thy head down like a Violet
Full of the mornings dew: There is a way
To gain thy freedome, but 'tis such a one
As puts thee in worse bondage, and I know,
Thou wouldst encounter fire, and make a proof
Whether the gods have care of innocence,
Rather than follow it: Know that I have lost,
The only difference betwixt man and beast,
My reason.
Pan.
Heaven forbid.
Arb.
Nay 'tis gone;
And I am left as far without a bound,
As the wild Ocean, that obeys the winds;
Each sodain passion throwes me where it lists,
And overwhelms all that oppose my will:
I have beheld thee with a lustfull eye;
My heart is set on wickedness to act
Such sins with thee, as I have been afraid
To think of, if thou dar'st consent to this,
Which I beseech thee do not, thou maist gain
Thy liberty, and yield me a content;
If not, thy dwelling must be dark and close,
Where I may never see thee; For heaven knows
That laid this punishment upon my pride,
Thy sight at some time will enforce my madness
To make a start e'ne to thy ravishing;
Now spit upon me, and call all reproaches
Thou canst devise together, and at once
Hurle 'em against me: for I am a sickness
As killing as the plague, ready to seize thee.
Pan.
Far be it from me to revile the King:
But it is true, that I shall rather choose
To search out death, that else would search out me,
And in a grave sleep with my innocence,
Than welcome such a sin: It is my fate,
To these cross accidents I was ordain'd,
And must have patience; and but that my eyes
Have more of woman in 'em than my heart,
I would not weep: Peace enter you again.
Arb.
Farwell, and good Panthea pray for me,
Thy prayers are pure, that I may find a death
However soon before my passions grow
That they forget what I desire is sin;
For thither they are tending: if that happen,
Then I shall force thee tho' thou wert a Virgin
By vow to Heaven, and shall pull a heap
Of strange yet uninvented sin upon me.
Pan.
Sir, I will pray for you, yet you shall know
It is a sullen fate that governs us,
For I could wish as heartily as you
I were no sister to you, I should then
Imbrace your lawfull love, sooner than health.
Arb.
Couldst thou affect me then?
Pan.
So perfectly,
That as it is, I ne're shall sway my heart,
To like another.
Arb.
Then I curse my birth,
Must this be added to my miseries
57
To our full happiness, but these meer sounds
Brother and Sister?
Pan.
There is nothing else,
But these alas will separate us more
Than twenty worlds betwixt us.
Arb.
I have liv'd
To conquer men and now am overthrown
Only by words Brother and Sister: where
Have those words dwelling? I will find 'em out,
And utterly destroy 'em; but they are
Not to be grasp'd: let 'em be men or beasts,
And I will cut 'em from the Earth, or Towns,
And I will raze 'em, and them blow 'em up:
Let 'em be Seas, and I will drink 'em off,
And yet have unquencht fire left in my breast:
Let 'em be any thing but meerly voice.
Pan.
But 'tis not in the power of any force,
Or policy to conquer them.
Arb.
Panthea, What shall we do?
Shall we stand firmly here, and gaze our eyes out?
Pan.
Would I could do so,
But I shall weep out mine.
Arb.
Accursed man,
Thou bought'st thy reason at too dear a rate,
For thou hast all thy actions bounded in
With curious rules, when every beast is free:
What is there that acknowledges a kindred
But wretched man? Who ever saw the Bull
Fearfully leave the Heifer that he lik'd
Because they had one Dam?
Pan.
Sir, I disturb you and my self too;
'Twere better I were gone.
Arb.
I will not be so foolish as I was,
Stay, we will love just as becomes our births,
No otherwise: Brothers and Sisters may
Walk hand in hand together; so will we,
Come nearer: is there any hurt in this?
Pan.
I hope not.
Arb.
Faith there is none at all:
And tell me truly now, is there not one
You love above me?
Pan.
No by Heaven.
Arb.
Why yet you sent unto Tigranes, Sister.
Pan.
True, but for another: for the truth—
Arb.
No more,
I'le credit thee, thou canst not lie,
Thou art all truth.
Pan.
But is there nothing else,
That we may do, but only walk? methinks
Brothers and Sisters lawfully may kiss.
Arb.
And so they may Panthea, so will we,
And kiss again too; we were too scrupulous,
And foolish, but we will be so no more.
Pan.
If you have any mercy, let me go
To prison, to my death, to any thing:
I feel a sin growing upon my blood,
Worse than all these, hotter than yours.
Arb.
That is impossible, what shou'd we do?
Pan.
Flie Sir, for Heavens sake.
Arb.
So we must away,
Sin grows upon us more by this delay.
[Exeunt several wayes.
| A King, and no King | |