 | The Partiall Law |  |
Actus Secundus
Scena Prima.
Lucina, Philocres.Luc.
This your misfortune Sr. in being unhors't,
And that so unluckily by Bellamour,
Will more estrange your mistrisse heart from you,
And settle it more firme on him;
Therefore at length be wise and leave to follow
An untam'd savage beauty, which the more
You doe pursue, the more obdurate growes;
And chuse some other Mistrisse: some who may
Without or cost of sigh, or losse of teare
Be wrought unto your will, some one who will
24
The pleasure is the same, the payne far less.
Phil.
(to himself)
She's strucke already, fastned in the net.
And if I draw her not to land, and make
Her serve for baite to catch more gudgions by
My cunning fayles me.
Luc.
Sir, did you but know
The sweetes of love, the delicates thereof,
When two breasts fully fraught, doe intershocke
And meet each other; vying which of them
Should outdoe other in expressions
Not only verball but reallityes;
You would repent you had so late embrac't
My wholesome counsell, and be sorry for
Your time misspent.
Trye it but once; you know not what it is
Till you have triall made; if try'de you like
It not, with ease you may fall off againe.
Phil.
There's none but common flesh will care for me,
Such as will play the after game, as well
With footboyes, as with me the foregame,
Now that I have been baffl'd, beate to ground
By Bellamour.
Luc.
Sir, you do injure much
Your selfe, and those that as your servants love you,
By ballancing your selfe with Bellamour.
'Tis true h'ath had the better of the day,
But you may have the better of the night.
I know a Lady (though myselfe doe say't)
25
Then all the world together put, and you
Exempted thence, then as you'd pitty moove
In other's breast, let it moove first in your's.
Phil.
Why that Parenthesis? why (though yourselfe doe say't?)
'Twill not prove you, deare Madame? will't? say.
Luc.
Alas! alas! I have at unawares
Betray'd my self, but what remedy? fire
Will out, and though long time rak't up in ashes
It inwardly doeth burne the more; and doeth
When it breakes forth break forth in greater flame.
Sir, 'tis too late to cloake my love, since you
Have gues't at it aright; 'tis I that am
The party speaking, and the spoken for.
Nor doe I blush at it; men are not deem'd
For wise nor provident, who in a case
That much concerns them, when they may themselves
Without controll have their accesse unto
The Judge or Prince's eares doe though employ
Some other on their errand; y'are my Prince
The Judge fore whom my cause is to be heard
And censured; in your hands doeth lye
The only power to bid me live or dye.
Why then should I be blamed, or any one
For doing that, to do the contrary
To which were folly and they fooles that doe it.
Phil.
Madame, I'm much bound to your Courtesie,
I wish I may deserve it; but so soone
Quite to forget my Florabella seemes
26
Luc.
Pish! thinke I am she
And 'twill be e'ne as good as if I were.
Pil.
In troth you say aright, 'tis all but thought,
A very meere imagination.
Y'have therefore wonne me, Madame, I am yours,
Yet one thing as a favour, I would faine
Begge at your hand.
Luc.
Speake freely and command.
Phil.
That when you please t'appoint a time of meeting
You'd doe your best in all your actions,
Behaviour and gesture to imitate
My once-loved Florabell; that so I may
Deceive my selfe, and whils't that I doe passe
The time away in dalliance with you,
May thinke it done with her.
Luc.
All this and more:
I'le put on her apparell, the same cloathes
And knots she wore the day before; for as
Her bed-fellow I well enough may doe't.
Phil.
(to himselfe)
How she outrunnes me, she'll not suffer me
To speake, she's surely of the plot
And I not know it; the successe muste needes
Be good, the entrance thereunto's so happy.
Luc.
What's that you mutter to yourselfe my Lord?
Phil.
I say the entrance is so happy as
There's nought but good which can preceede thereon.
But, Madame, say what time will you appoint
And place, for now methinks already
27
And fixes here.
Luc.
Name you the place and time.
Phil.
What thinke you on to-morrow night, the place
The Antichamber to the Princess' lodging.
'Tis not amisse; you easily may finde
Some cause of rising from her, there put on
Her cloathes i'th'outward chamber; where perhaps
They're usually lay'd, where I'll not fayle
To meete you.
Luc.
I, but how will you get thither?
Her maydes lye alwayes in the inner roome
And locke the doores when we are both in bed.
Phil.
For that take you no care, 'tis not the first
Love-theft that I have made; as I remember
There's a Balconye-window in that roome
Which looks upon the water; be you there
'Twixt twelve and one at night, and I'll provide
A silken ladder made for such-like feates,
Which you when I am come shall cast me down,
(Always provided th'one-end be made fast
Unto the window) thereby I will climbe
My tower of blisse wherein my Helene is.
Luc.
You must be sure to come alone, I'de not
For all the world have any other know it.
Phil.
Thinke me not so profuse of what's so much
By women valued, reputation.
The Moone shines bright about that hour, yet least
Or you or I may be mistaken when
I'm underneath your window, to my self
28
If you be there and all things as they ought
Your answer is, much about two o'clocke,
Thus we are safe, and none can us descry.
Luc.
It seems you are well-practis'd, you so well
Provide for everything thereto belonging;
But if all be agreed clap hands upon't.
Phil.
And lips too, Lady.
Luc.
So, all's very well.
I'le in least this my absence breede suspition:
Stay you a while behinde.
(Exit.
Phil.
Is not this better
Then storming rage? in which perhaps myselfe
Might share as bad as he: thus without noyse
I'll take revenge on Bellamour, and on
His Florabella too in such a sort
As they shall have small cause to thanke me for't.
Scena Secunda.
Philocres, Bellamour.Phil.
And see where luckily comes Bellamour.
Bell.
Who knowes but that my yesterdaye's good luck
May be an omen of succeeding blisse?
As such a one I take it: I will in
To my fayre Florabella, she I'm sure
Partakes a larger share of true content
Than I my selfe, in all that me befalls
Of good or glory.
29
Sr. a word with you
Before you passe to your fayre Florabell,
As you are pleased to terme her. Faith Sr. say
Are you so proud of the successe you had
In tilting yesterday, as nought can serve,
No meaner fortune recompense you for't
Than Florabella's favour!
Bell.
I'm betray'd,
But come what will come, since I'm thus farre gone
I will go through.
Phil.
Sr. by your leave
You shall not 'lesse you make your way through me.
Bell.
Were you tenne thousand men, and she my quarrell
I'd make my way through all of you.
(They fight.
Enter King, Montalto, Garamont, Arnaldo.
(They part them.
King.
Now by my soule Sir, this is not fayre play
Nor does it with your reputation sit
Thus to revenge your selfe by private Duell,
For what in publicke fayrely was perform'd,
And we ourselfe spectatour.
Phil.
Mighty Sir,
Your Majesty's mistaken, and since 'twas
My fortune to receive the worst I'm glad
'Twas by the means of Bellamour, my friend,
Whom I so love as I am not ashamed,
Nor sorry for the blurre which I sustaine
Since that it addes unto his glory; we
Not dreaming of your Majestye's approach
30
To try which was the better for defense
And which the best to passe upon.
King.
What say you, Bellamour? I'le take your word.
Was there no other matter in't?
Bell.
Sir, no.
King.
That No came dryly out, but I'le not presse
Further into particulars; quarrells
Are oft renew'd, friendship is seldome made
By repetitions; let it then suffise,
My pleasure is that all disputes heere ended
You two shake hands and vowe a hearty true
Reconciliation.
Bell.
Sr. 'tis more then needes.
King.
Give me your hand I say, your's too, Philochres,
So, sweare a perfect love and amity,
The which if either of you violate
Know my displeasure hangs thereon.
Phil.
I sweare
By this Majesticke hand, which thus I kisse,
Never for ought that is already past
To question Bellamour.
Bell.
On the same booke
The self same oath take I for what concernes
Philocres the Majorcan Prince.
King.
This
Affayre's well ended, looke you both observe
The oath y'have ta'ne.
Both.
Assuredly we will Sr.
King.
Then Garamont, and you my other Lords
31
And sure ere this the hawkes are sharpe, we shall
I trust see sport.
Gar.
I, such my Liedge,
As well befits a King to be spectatour.
Methinks I doe already see i'th'ayre
Your Tarsell gentle lessened to a larke
Shoote like a thunderbolt upon his prey.
Mont.
'Tis true, the sight's delightful, but the flight
Best fits a king to see is when the Heron
Wrought up by Teesars, the stout Gerfaulcon
Is whistl'd off from fist, to see how first she sweepes
The earth with wings, and seems to steere her flight
A cleane contrary way, till by and by
You see her come about, and worke herselfe
By inch-meale up till she be got above
The lofty Hearne; to see her when she's there
Come powd'ring downe, till grappl'd with her prey,
They tumbling in the ayre come both to ground.
King.
Will you, Philocres, goe along and you
Good Bellamour? perhaps you have not seen
In your Majorca, nor in Italy
Such Hawkes as our's are.
Phil.
Sr. I'le forthwith wayte
Upon your Majesty; I'le stay but till
My horse be come, then haste and overtake you.
Bell.
I'le tarry Sr. and wayte upon the Prince.
King.
I pray make haste, at least wise that you may
See th'evening flight, the which doth crowne the day.
(Exeunt all but Philocres and Bellamour.
32
Friend Bellamour: for so I now must terme you,
And truth to say, did ever hold you such,
Let's calmly talke together, and though I
Might take it ill that you would goe about
To interrupt me in my love-affayres
With Princesse Florabella, (for 'tis like
You are not ignorant of my addresses)
Especially at this time, when I meane
For wife her of her father to demand,
Yet such is the respect I have always borne you
That setting by my quality of Prince,
And therein sure a fitter match for her,
I'le as your equall commune with you, and
Acquaint you with those reasons which doe moove
Me to pursue her love; doe you the like
To me, and if your reasons better be,
More prevalent, of greater force than mine,
Take't on a Prince's word, I'le not pursue
My suite one minute further; but sit downe
To you; marry I then will look for like
Respect from you
Bell.
'Tis reason, good my Lord,
And since y'are pleased to make so fair an offer,
I willingly doe entertayne the match,
And by th'faith of a Gentleman, which tyes
As much t'observance as a Prince's word,
I now, if your Highnesse shew me reasons why
You rather should or doe hope to enjoy
Her love than I, I'le not alone sit downe
To you, but doe the best lies in my power
33
Alwayes provided you doe nothing say
But truth entire, and thereto take an oath.
Phil.
Most willingly, and to this oath we will
Insert a clause of secrecy, that what
Soe're it be, is, or by you or me
Made known, shall by the other passe no further,
But rest with him, as if it were untold.
Bell.
Then heere, upon these hilts, I swear by all
That sacred is, by all that is divine,
By th'honour of a Gentleman, by all
My hopes (and in them may I prosper so
As I doe keepe this vow which now I make)
By fairest Florabella's eyes, and by
Her love (which said, I'le say no more)
That if Philocres doe to me make know'n
Good reason why he rather should presume
On Florabella's love than I; and doe
Therein say nought but what is certaine truth,
As I for my part heere doe vow to do,
I'le cease from ever further seeking to
Enjoy her love, and doe my best to helpe
Him to his wish't desire; I further vow
By all that formerly is said never
To let ought I shall now from him receive
Concerning this passe further then my selfe.
Phil.
A better oath I cannot thinke upon.
And therefore in the selfe same words doe vow
By all that's sacred, all that is divine,
By th'honour of a Gentleman, by all
34
As I doe keepe the vow I now doe make)
By fayrest Florabella's eyes, and by
Her love (which said, I'le say no more)
That if that Bellamour to me make know'n
Good reason why he rather should presume
On Florabella's love than I, and doe
Therein say nought but what is certaine truth,
As I for my part heere doe vow to do,
I'le cease from ever further seeking to
Enjoy her love, and do my best to helpe
Him to his wish't desire. I further vow
By all that formerly is said, never
To let ought I shall now from him receive
Concerning this, passe further then my selfe.
Bell.
To witnesse I beleeve you, and beleeve
You'll punctually observe the oath y'have ta'ne,
Know what I know will trouble you to know;
Yet be not you thereat with me offended,
For Charity (men say) begins at home.
Know then, that though I may be justly blam'd
For having placed my affection
So high, (and yet Love's bounds are ever boundlesse)
I still have met such correspondency
In all my love-affayres as would inflame
A heart, less subject to take fire than mine,
Nor should I e're have dared to make know'n
My passions, but have rather chose to dye
And smother out my heate in swep't up ashes,
Than suffer them to breathe forth to a flame,
35
As prone for birth in my fayre Florabell.
This graunted, I have not forborne to use
The best meanes lay in me to blow the coale,
By whose sole heate my soule receiv'd her being,
And have at last brought it to such a height
Of heate, not to be quench't but by the like,
As she hath freely given her consent
To marry me, nay, runne away with me,
For not without good reason, she dispayres
Ever to get the King her father's liking,
To this, (I must confesse) unworthy match,
She two days since bestowed on me this chayne,
Willing me weare it for her sake, as that
She held most dearest, left her by her mother.
This and much more of like I could informe,
But heere's enough, I doubt not, to put down
All you can boast of; I doe therefore crave
The true performance of your vow.
Phil.
Is this
All you can say? if more you have, speak on,
Or else for ever after hold your peace; for I
Am next to speake, you must no more reply.
Bell.
What more can fall within the heart of man?
Outdoe you this, and take her for your paynes.
Phil.
I aske no more: but see you now put on
As great a patience to heare what I
Shall say, and beare it full as patiently
As I have done
Bell.
I should be else to blame.
36
Then know I knew as much as this before,
God knowes full many a time hathe she of this
To passe away the time discours't with me,
Alledging she did all this, only to
Set off our future blessings: to be briefe
I know her carnally.
Bell.
Thou ly'est, false slave.
Phil.
Is this the patience you promised?
Bell.
'Tis past all patience to heare her fame
Set as a pattern to all women else
Thus blister'd by thy base, false, venemous tongue.
Phil.
Hold, you by this see I dare fight, and in
(They fight.
A cause so just as this feare not th'issue,
Yet can I not blame you for what you doe,
Nor am I thereat angry; but when this
Is made apparent, when as you your selfe
Shall see this done, shall see me lye with her,
You'll then beleeve it, and perhaps you'll then
Repent this violence offer'd to a Prince
Who freely hath unbosoméd himself
After a solemne oath of secrecy.
Bell.
'Tis false, 'tis more than false; it cannot be,
When I see that, may I ne're after see.
Phil.
Dispense but with your fury for a while,
For some few houres, I'le aske no longer time
Than this next night, and if I bring you not
Where you shall see all I have said made good
Resume your anger centuply'de and I'le
Ingage my honour, more I cannot gage,
37
Bell.
This very night? Dispense, my purest saint,
My this night's loytering; I to-morrow will
Make ample satisfaction, when he
Shall not have face enough to looke on me
Who now spues slaunder on thy spotlesse fame.
Phil.
All this I heare, and once more vow to meete
You heere to morrow 'bout seven in the morne,
Where you may take your due revenge if I
Not this night shew you all that I have said.
Bell.
Shall I then sheathe my sword? I must, I must,
Or in not doing it prove too unjust.
Sir, I accept your offer, which you'd best
Make good (yet were you better damn'd than doe't)
Or I'le make you serve for a president
To all backbiters, fowle-mouthed slaunderers.
Phil.
'Tis a hard choise, be damn'd or done to death;
You see Sr. I am merry; 'tis my cause,
The justnesse of my cause that causes it.
Meete me this night 'twixt one a clocke and two,
O'th'water banke on which her chamber looketh,
Place your selfe there where you may see unseene
Behinde a tree just 'gainst her chamber window.
Whate're you there shall see, beare patiently,
And call to mind your vowe made solemnly,
Nought to reveale that or you heare or see.
Bell.
My vow I will not fayle t'observe, for if
(As 'tis impossible) it should prove true
I'll ne're more see, nor heare, nor her, nor you.
(Exeunt.
38
Scena Tertia.
Florabella sola.Flo.
I am resolv'd, and doubtlesse well resolv'd,
Better's a meaner life joyn'd with content
Than scepters wayted on with thorny cares,
For if well weigh'd, this worldly wealth and honour
Are burdensome; who abounds in wealth
His part thereof is least; he's thereby more possest
Than he doeth it possess: greatest tytles
As King or Queene are not true happinesse,
But rather fetters unto liberty.
The meaner subjects with more freedome doe
Their harmlesse sport enjoy than soveraignes.
But I much wonder Bellamour so long
Absents himselfe from me, he is not wont
To be so long away.
Enter Lucina.
Luc.
What! all alone
Fayre Lady? What's the businesse now in hand
That brookes no company? may I partake
Of ought that troubles you?
Flo.
I thank my fates
There's nothing troubles me, my deare Lucina.
The calmnesse of the Evening tempted me
Missing of you to take the ayre alone.
But now I'm glad w'are met: what drew you hither?
Luc.
My service to seeke out your Ladyship.
You did not see the Prince of late Philocres?
Flo.
Nor care if I ever see him: pray leave
39
Luc.
Nay Madame, rather than give you offense
In any thing I say, take heere my hand,
I'le never ope my mouth concerning him.
Flo.
On these tearmes none more wellcome than yourselfe.
Luc.
Say then, what shall we talke on? shall's discourse
Of love in generall?
Flo.
I know not what
Love meanes, if you make Love your theame
You must talke all yourselfe.
Luc.
A Lady past
Fifteen and know not what belongs to Love!
'Twere strange if true.
Flo.
'Tis not so strange as true.
Luc.
Pardon me, Madame, 'tis against my Creede,
And as a woman I must not believe it.
Flo.
Whom do you love, Lucina?
Luc.
Nay, that's more
Than I am bound to tell; but that I love
I doe not blush to say, for 'tis most true,
Once e're we dye Cupid will shew his power,
And since 'tis so decreed, 'tis better we
Give way to him whilst yong than when w'are old;
I have heard it said and do believe it true,
That there's no payne so great as when with dart
Cupid doeth pricke the aged doting heart.
Since then or first or last we must give way
To his all-swaying scepter, 'tis best betimes
When w'are fit fewell for his fire; but loe
Philocres comes.
40
And as he comes I goe.
[Exit Florabella.
Enter Philocres.
Phil.
What, all alone my deare? who was't, with whom
You now were talking, and hath left you thus
Unmannerly alone?
Luc.
Your quondam Saint,
The Princess Florabella.
Phil.
O, was't shee?
She needed not have made such haste away,
I shall not her pursue when as you stay,
So let her goe, 'tis you I come to seeke.
Luc.
Now you have found me what's the newes?
Phil.
Loe heere
The thing I told you of, take this,
And fayle not your appointed time, you know
How to behave your selfe, what's to be done.
Luc.
Let me alone, to such an enterprise
As this I neede no spurres.
Phil.
Well then begone
Yet ere you goe, know I'll come in disguise,
Least in mine own shape men might eye me more,
And dogge me as I goe,
Luc.
I understand:
You'll keepe your watchword?
Phil.
Yes.
Luc.
And I'le keepe mine.
But say, doe lovers use to part thus calmely
Without a kisse or two?
Phil.
'Twas but forgot.
41
Till it meet soone with more delicious fare.
Scena Quarta.
Three Men, three Women.1. Man.
Hark y'Sirras, I have been with my neighbour the
woman you wot of, that fell to my share yesterday, where I
have seen a very pearle of womenkind, of countrey lasses I
meane.
2. Man.
Who was't you saw? her daughter she talk't of?
1. Man.
Who else? she hath a lippe man, melts in your
mouth like so much suger or honey when you kisse her.
3. Man.
Why then you have tasted her lips.
1. Man.
I, and may live to taste her hips too, but no more
of that till time serve: Mumme and catch a mouse, I love not
these prating companions; they talke of twenty they never
durst so much as dreame of, when your slye fellow talkes of
none, and yet does more than dreame with twenty.
3. Man.
Methinks a pretty dreame though doeth sometimes
not amisse, but let that passe; hath she made you a promise?
hath she given you a Rendezvous? a place where? a time
when?
1. Man.
Not too fast deare dapper Dicky, for feare of
stumbling, she hath promis'd me to meete me much about
this houre in this very place, and to bring two of her neighbours
along with her, and a Tabor and Pipe, to give me
and any two I shall bring with me a meeting where we may
42
and occasion rest contented.
3. Man.
Shall I be one, deare Hodge?
2. Man.
And I, my lad of gold?
1. Man.
To what end brought I you hither else? hearke,
I thinke I heare them coming: see whether she be not a wench
of her word or no.
2. Man.
Is that first she?
1. Man.
I marry is't.
2. Man.
I like the second as well.
3. Man.
And I the third.
1. Man.
Why then we are likely all to be pleas'd.
1. Wom.
You see, Sir, I'm a woman of my word, I love to
say and hold, to doe as I would be done by.
3. Man.
Marry, he that would doe by you, as you would
be done by, may have his belly full of doing, I warrant him.
But what say you, pretty mayde.
3. Wom.
I'm come along with my neighbour heere, as you
see, she said she would bring us, where we should see fine
Courtnols.
2. Wom.
I can daunce with them too; are you they, I pray
you? if you be, we have brought a very feat Tabourer along
with us.
2. Man.
That you may know, pretty mayde, that we be
the men you looke for, command your Tabourer to strike up,
and we two to any two of them.
3. Wom.
Nay, we'll all daunce, that's sure, we'll none sit by
for looker's on.
3. Man.
Then let me take you by the hand, whil'st the
other two make the last couple in hell.
43
What daunce shall's have? An old man's a
bagge full of bones?
1. Wom.
I never lov'd to have to doe with old men's bones.
Play me The souldier's delight.
1. Man.
Why then, you must play your selfe pretty one,
for to my knowledge who have beene a souldier, their delight
lyes most in such as you are.
2. Wom.
Nay, that's as old as the beginning of the world,
or Tarlton's Trunk-hose. Let's have Rose is red, and rose is
white, and rose is wonderous bonny.
2. Man.
For a wager your name is Rose, is it not?
2. Wom.
It is indeede Sir.
2. Man.
Why then, let us have it.
3. Wom.
Nay, by your leave Sir, why rather that than
Peggy Ramsey for my sake, or Joane's ale's new, for my other
neighbour heere, whose name is Joane.
2. Wom.
Then to end the strife, least we fall out before we
fall in, let's have the new Daunce made at our last wake.
All.
A match, a match.
(The musicke playes, and they daunce, which done they goe away in couples.
Scena Quinta.
Philocres, Bellamour.Phil.
'Tis now friend Bellamour that you must trye
Your manhood, valour does consist no lesse
In suffering than doing; then put on
44
For I shall put you to't.
Bell.
Sir you may spare
Your counsell; busy yourself about
The making good your word, and be advis'd
In what you take in hand. Love hath sharpe eyes,
And is not easily deluded; you
Perhaps doe hope to put some tricke upon me,
But if you do, (for I shall soone perceive it)
Thinke not to 'scape my hands.
Phil.
I crave no mercy,
See, heere's the place where you must stand, to see
What will to you be poyson, baulme to me.
(Exit.
Bell.
He's very confident, and did I thinke
He could effect that which he boasteth of,
I would not live to see the triall made.
But who knowes? he perhaps may have some plot
Upon my life, and by some treachery
May meane to kill me, now that he hath draw'en
Me out alone at this so late an houre.
'Twas well imagin'd, sure it must be so,
But I'le prevent him; Mines must be blow'ne up
With countermines; and see where luckily
(Enter Garamont with a closed lantern.)
Comes Garamont, the man of all the world
I should have chosen in a case of neede.
He's stoute and valiant, trusty to his friend,
And I for such a one have ever found him.
I'le trye his friendship now, and if I winne
45
Bring twenty with him; better are two true men
Than twenty knaves; their oddes i'th'cause
Is greater than the other's in their number.
Whether so late, Lord Garamont?
Gar.
Who's that?
Bell.
'Tis I Sir.
Gar.
You, Sir, who are you? some knave
Lying in wayte for cloake or hattes?
Bell.
Nay Sir
When you shall know who 'tis you injure thus
You'll sorry be; know you not Bellamour?
Gar.
I crave your pardon Sir.
Bell.
There's no harme done,
But faith, say whether, at this time of night?
Some Mistrisse heere about, some dainty wench,
Some such affayre, I'le lay my life on't, is't not?
Gar.
'Tis hard to halt before a cripple, you
By your owne errand guesse at what's another's.
Bell.
Then Sir, let me obtayne a favour from you,
A great one too, which must not be deny'de.
Gar.
'Tis graunted e're demanded; I'le not fayle
To wayte on you to morrow, to receive
All your commands.
Bell.
My suite brookes no delay,
'Tis forthwith to be done.
Gar.
So I shall make
My mistresse wayte in vayne.
Bell.
I know you doe
Preferre a pleasure done unto a friend
46
And least whil'st we dispute, I should let slip
The opportunity wherein I am
To use your friendship, ask no questions,
Nor why? nor what? but doe your candle out,
And stir not from this place, unlesse you heare
Me call, which if you do, with sword in hand
Make haste unto me; this is all I crave,
And one halfe houre will end the businesse.
Gar.
Mistresse, then by your leave; Sir, I am your's,
And for I see the businesse is of moment
I rest the more indebted, that you'll please
To use my service in't; heere I'le stay,
And with implicite faith wayte your Commands.
Bell.
Thankes noble Garamont, but as you prize
My friendship, stir not one foot further, till
You heare me call.
Gar.
Your will serves for a Law.
Bell.
Then thus, like him who grovells in the Darke
I seeke for what I would not find. 'Twas heere
He bade me stay, he'll not be long a comming.
Gar.
Nor why? nor what? and come with sword in hand;
These words implye not nothing; thus far off
He may receive some injury e're I
Can get up to him; pardon Bellamour
If I a little doe transgresse. The Gods
Doe know my heart; my meaning is the best.
So now I'm neere enough; heere I may see
What passes, and be readyer to helpe
If neede requires. I wonder what he meanes.
47
Phil.
So thus far all is well; see where he stands,
Now if Lucina play her part as well
As I have mine, the sequele will applaud
Mine industry. I wonder what's a clocke.
Luc.
Sure 'tis Philocres, 'tis nigh two a clocke.
Bell.
Sleep I or do I wake? Sure 'tis no dreame.
The rascall cringes, she fawneth from above,
And I looke on; curst be mine eyes which serve
For Conduits to convey so fowle a sight
Into my soule: ô that I had been borne
Blinde, or indeed never been borne at all.
I should not then have felt such paynes as doe
Surpasse the tortures Hell inflicts on those
Who false like her, have falsifi'de their faith.
Since then there is no payne can equalize
My present torments why should I deferre
My lesse of paynes, if not my more of blisse?
She who alone did give me life, for whom
I onely coveted to live, hath taken
My life from me, and gives it to another.
Why then should I survive? to suffer payne
Unheard of, not to be exprest; some would
Advise revenge, and thereby heape fowle guilt
Upon my soule; but I not covet that.
May he enjoy that which she held too great
A blisse for me, and since all men must dye
48
(He offers to kill himself.
Gar.
For shame Sir, hold your hand, what doe you meane?
Is this the bravery of your mind; are you
Not able to withstand fortune's first rubbe?
This action would blurre all your former deedes,
And sullye your so fairely wonne renown.
Bell.
Insatiate death! what pleasure doest thou take
In still reserving me to misery?
Thou like the Huntsman those poore soules pursu'est
Which flye from thee, but doest not pleasure take
In seising those that offer up themselves.
And you Sr who thus hinder me from what
I gladlier would embrace than schoole-boyes doe
A play-day graunted, know if you had seene
What I have seene, and knew what I doe know
You'd be more mercifull.
Gar.
Sir I have seene
All you have seene, and know all you do know
And begge your pardon for that I doe so.
My soule propheticke whisper'd me i'th'eare,
Bade me the station leave you left me in,
And neerer draw lest mischiefe might ensue.
Since then thus dictated by my good Genius,
I hope your pardon eas'ly will be graunted;
Take better resolution then deare Sir.
If you should thus put end unto your selfe
Your death would publish forth your guilt, whereas
If you survive there's wayes enough yet left
To remedye or to revenge your griefes.
49
All remedy is vaine. As for revenge
I ayme not at it, why should I hate him
Who coveted what I myself did covet?
I rather his integrity applaude
Who dealt so freely with me; so to free
Me from those rockes on which my boate was bent.
Why should I hate him more than he hate me?
His passions are the same as mine, his fire
Equally fervent, onely heere's the oddes,
Mine doeth derive from Hell, his from the Gods,
For so the sequell shows; yet justly I
May playne of fals-hood in my Florabell.
To what end serv'd those hopes plenteously
She pamper'd me withall? yes, to set off
Her joyes with greater gust; but truth to say
'Twas Tyranny unheard of, first to cause
The flame blaze high, then thus to blow it out.
But she's a woman: henceforth may he finde
Like griefe to mine, that e're loves woman-kinde.
Gar.
Hate whom you will so as you love your selfe.
Put up your sword and cease these whining moanes.
Joyne you with me, or let me joyne with you,
And we, for all your grave Philosophy,
Will worke revenge; say what you will or can,
Nought but revenge sounds sweet in injured eares.
And whosoever't be hath done this deede
My skill shall fayle, or we'll make his heart bleede.
Bell.
Sir, thus farre to obey you.
(He puts up his sword.
Gar.
So 'tis well.
Plucke up your heart man, I'le teach Florabell
50
Bell.
Sir, as you would preserve what you have done,
As you would favour winne of God or man,
As you desire fruition where you love,
As you love me, love goodnesse, love your selfe,
Forget what you have seen or heard, and let
No creature know what none but you know yet.
There nothing now remaynes to adde unto
My tortur'd soule, fresh pangs, save onely that
The fact made knowen, she may incurre displeasure;
For had I million of lives I'de chuse
To loose them one by one rather than have
Her finger ake, or she receive a checke.
Therefore once more I you conjure by all
Your hopes of blisse you let not one word scape
Your mouth whereby her honour may be stayn'd.
Gar.
Well, I'le obey you, but then take you heede
To use no further violence on your selfe,
For if that Ague-fit returne againe
I shall not hold; murder beleeve't will out.
Bell.
You could not, possibly have found a spell
Of equall power with this; for this time Sir
You shall prevayle, but what will follow on't
'Tis hard to say, I'm sure my selfe not know.
And so Sir, fare you well.
Gar.
Nay by your leave
I will not quit you, till in better tune.
It is not fit so great a melancholly
Be left alone, for feare of future folly.
Finis Acti Secundi.
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