University of Virginia Library

Act IV.

Scene I.

Enter Philander.
Phil.
Oh that I had been nourish'd in these Woods
With Milk of Goats and Acorns, and not known
The Right of Crowns, nor the dissembling Trains
Of Women's Looks; but dig'd my self a Cave,
Where I my Fire, my Cattle and my Bed
Might have been shut together in one Shed;
And then have taken me some Mountain Girl,
Beaten with Winds, chaste as the hardned Rocks
Whereon she dwells; that might have strew'd my Bed
With Leaves and Reeds, and with the Skins of Beasts,
And born at her big Breasts my large course Issue.
This had been a Life free from Vexation.

Enter Endymion.
End.
Oh wicked Men! an Innocent may walk
Safe among Beasts; nothing assaults me here.
See! there my troubled Lord sits, as his Soul
Were searching out a way to leave his Body.
It grieves me that I'm forc'd to disobey
His lasts Commands; but 'tis not in my Pow'r
To forbear speaking, when I look on him.
I'll make as if I wanted, tho' Heav'n knows
I can't, because I do not wish to live.
You that are griev'd can pity; hear, my Lord.

Phil.
Is there a Creature yet so miserable
That I can pity?

End.
Oh, my noble Lord,
View my strange Fortune, and bestow on me
Out of good Nature (if my Services
Can merit nothing) so much as may help
To keep this little piece I hold of Life
From Cold and Hunger.

Phil.
Is it thou? Go sell,
For shame, those misbecoming Cloaths thou wear'st,
And feed thy self with them.

End.
Alas, my Lord,
I can get nothing for them; People here
Think it were Treason for them but to touch
Such gay, fine things.

Phil.
Now, by my Life, this is
Unkindly done to vex me with thy Sight;
Thou'rt fallen back to thy dissembling Trade.
How should'st thou think to cozen me again?
Remains there yet a Plague untry'd for me?
Ev'n so thou wept'st when first I took thee up;
Wretch that I was to do so; if thy Tears
Can work on any other, use thy Art,
I'll not betray it. Which Way wilt thou take?
That I may shun thee? for thy Eyes to mine
Are Poison; and I'm loth to grow in Rage:
Say, which way wilt thou take?

End.
Which way you please:
Since I can't go with you, I have no Choice;
But I'm resolv'd where'er I go to have
That Path in chase which leads unto my Grave.

[Exeunt severally.
Enter Cleon, and the Woodmen.
Cleon.
This is the strangest sudden Change! You Woodmen.

1 Wood.
My Lord Cleon.

Cleon.

Saw you a Lady come this Way on a sable
Horse, and stubb'd with Stars of white?

2 Wood.

Was she not young and tall?

Cleon.

Yes. Rode she to the Wood or the to Plain?

2 Wood.

Faith, my Lord, we saw none.

[Ex. Woodmen.
Enter Agremont.
Cleon.

Pox o' your Questions then. What is she
found?

Agr.

Nor will be, I think.

Cleon.

Let him seek his Daughter himself? she cannot
stir about a little necessary Business, but the whole
Court must be in Arms; when she has done, we shall
have Peace.

Agr.

There's already a thousand fatherless Tales amongst
us; some say her Horse run away from her;
some a Wolf pursu'd her; others it was a Plot to kill
her; and that arm'd Men were seen in the Wood; but
questionless she rode away willingly.

Enter King and Adelard.
King.
Where is she?

Agr.
Sir, I cannot tell.

King.
How's that?
If thou dost answer so—

Agr.
Sir, shall I lie?

King.
Yes, and be damn'd, rather than tell me that;
I say again, where is she? Mutter not;
Sir, speak you where she is.

Cleon.
I do not know.

King.
Speak that again so boldly, and by Heav'n
It is thy last; you, fellows, answer me;
Where is she? Mark me all, I am your King;
I wish to see my Daughter, shew me her,
I do command you all, as you are Subjects,
To shew her me: What am I not your King?
And are you not t' obey what I command.

Cleon.
Yes; if the thing be possible and honest.

King.
Be possible and honest? Hear me, thou,
Thou Traytor, that confin'st thy King to what
Is possible and honest; shew her me.

Cleon.
Indeed I can't, till I know where she is.

King.
You have betray'd me; you have lost my Life,
The Jewel of my Life; go, bring her me,
And set her here before me; 'tis the King
Will have it so; whose Breath can still the Winds,
Uncloud the Sun, charm down the swelling Seas,
And stop the Floods of Heav'n: Can't it? Speak.

Cleon.
No.

King.
No? Cannot the Breath of Kings do this?

Cleon.
No; nor smell sweet it self, if once the Lungs
Be but corrupted.

King.
Is it so? Take heed.

Cleon.
Sir, take you heed you do not dare the Pow'rs
That must be just.

King.
Alas, what are we Kings?
Why do you, Gods, place us above the rest
To be serv'd, flatter'd, and ador'd, till we
Believe we hold within our Hands your Thunder;
And when we come to try the Pow'r we have,
There's not a single Leaf shakes at our Threatning?
I've sinn'd, 'tis true, and here stand to be punish'd;
Yet would not thus be punish'd: Let me chuse
My Way, and lay it on.

Cleon.

He articles with Heav'n; would somebody
would draw the Bonds for the Performance of Covenants
betwixt them.

Enter Thrasomond, Melesinda, and Alga.
King.
What, is she found?

Thras.
No; we have ta'en her Horse,
He gallop'd empty by.

King.
You, Melesinda, rode with her into
The Wood: Why left you her?

Mel.
She bid me do't.

King.
What if she did? You should not have obey'd.

Mel.
'Twould ill become my Fortunes and my Birth
To disobey the Daughter of my King.

King.
Y'are willing to obey us for our Hurt;
But I will have her.

Thras.
If I have her not,
There shall be no more Sicily by Heav'n.

Cleon.
Why, what will he carry it away in's Pocket?

King.
I see the Injuries I've done must be
Reveng'd.

Cleon.
But this will never find her out.

King.
Run all; disperse your selves; whoe'er he be,
That can but bring her to me shall be happy.

Thras.
Come, let us seek.

Cleon.
Each Man a several Way.

[Exeunt.
Enter a Country Fellow.
Clown.

I'll see the King if he be in the Forest; I
have hunted him these two Hours; if I should go
home, and not see him, my Sister would laugh at
me. I can meet with nothing but People better hors'd
than my self, that outride me; nor can I hear any
thing but shouting: These Kings had need of good
Brains? this whooping is able to put a mean Man out
of his Wit. Well, I'll about it again.

[Exit.
Enter Araminta.
Ara.
Where am I now? Feet, find me out a Way,
Without the Counsel of my troubled Head;
I'll trust you boldly amidst all these Woods;
O'er Mountains, thorough Brambles, Pits, and Floods.
Heaven I hope will ease me: I am sick.

Enter Endymion.
End.
Yonder's my honour'd Lady, fast asleep:
I fear she faints; the lovely red is gone
To guard her Heart: She breaths not. Madam,
Open once more those rosie Twins, and send
To my dear Lord your last Farewel. She stirs.
How is it, Madam, pray?

Ara.
'Tis not well done
To put me in a miserable Life,
And hold me there: I pray thee let me go;
I shall do best without thee: I am well.

Enter Philander.
Phil.
I was to blame to be so much in Rage;
I'll tell her truly when and where I heard
This killing Truth; I will be temperate
In speaking, and as just in hearing too.
Oh monstrous! Tempt me not, you Gods; good Gods,
Tempt not a frail Man: What's he that has a Heart,
But he must ease it here?

End.
Are you not better yet?

Ara.
I'm well forbear.

Phil.
Let me love Lightning, let me be embrac'd
And kiss'd by Vipers rather than bear this.
Despair dwell with you; what before my Face?
Nature invent a Curse, and throw it on you:
May Poison grow between your Lips, Diseases
Be your Brood: I'll part you once at least.

[Runs at Endymion, and hurts Araminta.
Ara.
Oh, dear Philander, leave to be inrag'd,
And hear me.

Phil.
I have done; not the calm Sea,
When Æolus locks up his windy Crew,
Is less disturb'd than I: Thus you shall know it;
Dear Araminta, do but take this Sword,
And feel how temperate a Heart I have;
Then you, and this your Boy, may live and reign
In Lust, without controul. Wilt thou, Endymion?
I prithee kill me: Thou art poor, and may'st
Nourish ambitious Thoughts; were I but dead
There would be nothing then to hinder thee.
Am I mad now? Pray speak: I'm sure I were
If after all the Wrongs I have receiv'd,
I should desire to live: You will not kill
Me then?

End.
Not for a World.

Phil.
I blame not thee,
Endymion, thou hast done but that which Gods
Would have transform'd themselves to do: Be gone;
Leave me without Reply. This is the last
[Exit End.
Of all our Meetings; come then, kill me with
This Sword; be wise, lest worse might follow; one
Of us must die.

Ara.
Indeed I think I must;
My Wound begins to make me faint already.

Phil.
How? What Wound? Where?

Ara.
O, touch me gently, there:
I hope 'twill give me ease in t' other World,
For I could never yet find any here.

Phil.
My cruel Stars, what have you brought upon me!
Now I defy you all to do your worst.

Ara.
But tell me, pray, are there no Jealousies,
No Slanders, where I'm going? No ill there?

Phil.
O, say no more, but help to stop thy Wound;
It was not meant to thee, but to the Boy;
That vile, ungrateful Boy.

Ara.
Would you not then have kill'd me? Pray say no,
Whate'er you meant.

Phil.
Can I hear this, and live?
Why would you make me mad? Force me to do
I know not what, and hurt you? Why would you
Disgrace me thus? Why did you love the Boy?
(Curse on th' unhappy Hour when I was born!)
How could you find i' your Heart to use me so?

Ara.
Alas, my Soul doats only upon you,
And can love nothing else, whate'er you do.

Enter Clown.
Clown.
Hey day! What have we here?

Phil.
Ha! What art thou?

Clown.

Gods uds, Courtier with his naked Sword
upon a Woman! I think the Rogue has hurt her too;
I'm sure she bleeds. By'r leave, fair Lady, who has
hurt you so?

Phil.

Good honest Friend, pursue thy own Affairs.

Clown.

Friend me no Friends; I'll know who hurt
the Woman.

Phil.
Nay leave us, Sirrah, or thou shalt repent it.

Clown.
Say'st thou so, Boy, I will try that i'faith.

Phil.
Slave, dost thou dare me thus?

(They Fight.)
Ara.
Heav'ns guard my Lord.

[Clown falls.]
Phil.
The Gods take part against me sure, this Boor
[Noise within.]
Could ne'er have hurt me else. Here's People coming.
What shall I do? Alas, what shall I think?
I heard her pray for me when I was fighting.
Perhaps she may be injur'd. O my Fate!
I either am dishonour'd, or a Wretch
To be despis'd; the very worst of Men.

[Noise again.]
Ara.
Fly, fly, my Lord, or your dear Life is lost.

Phil.
D' ye think I'll leave you thus to save my Life?

Ara.
Do it then pray, Philander, to save mine;
For if you stay indeed I'll bleed to Death;
It is not hard to do: And yet methinks
My Wound is nothing now y' are sorry for't.
As soon as you are safe I shall be well.

Phil.
But I must never hope to be so more.
Kill me, and pardon me; 'tis all I beg.
Farewel then; if thou'rt true, I'll kill my self;
And tho' thou should'st deserve the worst of Thoughts,
However, I forgive thee all thy Faults.

[Exit.
Enter Thrasomond, Cleon, Agremont, Adelard, and Woodmen.
Thras.
What art thou?

Clown.

Almost kill'd I am for a foolish Woman; a
Knave has hurt her.

Thras.
The Princess, Gentlemen! where's the Wound, Madam?
Is it dangerous?

Ara.
He has not hurt me.

Clown.
I say she lyes; he has hurt her in the Side:
Look else.

Thras.
O sacred Spring of innocent Blood!

Cleon.
'Tis above Wonder who should do this.

Ara.
I feel it not.

Thras.
Speak, Villain; who has hurt the Princess?

Clown.
Is it the Princess?

Cleon.
I.

Clown.
Then I have seen something yet.

Thras.
But who has hurt her?

Clown.
I told you a Rogue: I ne'er saw him before.

Thras.
Madam, who did it?

Ara.

Some dishonest Wretch: Alas I know him not,
and do forgive him.

Clown.

He's hurt too, he cannot go far: I made my
Father's old Fox fly about his Ears.

Thras.

How will you have me kill him?

Ara.

Not at all; 'tis some distracted Fellow.

Thras.

By this Hand I'll leave ne'er a piece of him
bigger than a Nut, and bring him all in my Hat.

Ara.
Nay, good Sir, if you do take him, bring him to me
Alive; and I'll invent some Punishment
For him, great as his Fault.

Thras.
I will.

Ara.
But swear.

Thras.
Why then i'fecks I will. Wait you upon
The Princess: Woodmen, lead of this poor Man.
Come, Gentlemen, let us pursue our Chase.

[Exeunt Thras. Cleon, Agr. Adel.
[1 Wood. and Araminta.
Clown.
I pray you, Freind, let me see the King.

2 Wood.
That you shall, and receive Thanks.

Clown.

If I get clear with this, I'll go no more to
gay Sights in haste.

[Exeunt.
Enter Endymion.
End.
A Heaviness near Death sits on my Brow,
And I must sleep; bear me, thou gentle Bank
For ever if thou wilt; you sweet ones all,
Let me unworthy press you; I could wish,
I rather were a Coarse strew'd o'er with you
Than quick above you: Dulness shuts my Eyes,
And I am giddy: O, that I could take
So sound a Sleep as I might never wake.

Enter Philander.
Phil.
Whither shall I go now, or rather why
Should I go any farther? True, I'll end
My Journey here. What should I travel for
With such an odious, tiresom Load upon me,
As now, alas, my Life is grown? And which
I must not hope to save whate'er falls out:
For if she's false, I'm sure I cannot live;
And if she should prove true, I'd scorn to do't,
After the Injuries I've basely done her.
Oh why should we thus madly be inclin'd
To think the worse of those we love the most?
Ye Gods, it is too great a Tyranny to plague
Mankind at once with Love and Jealousie.
Who's this? Endymion sleeping? 'Tis unjust
Thy Sleep should be so sound, and mine, whom thou
Hast wrong'd, so broken. I hope he will not wake;
I'm very loth to kill him, but I feel
Something within me that would force me to't:
If I should but once more behold his Eyes,
They are the Cause of all my Miseries.
Yet she did vow to me she loves him not;
But who is he dares trust to Women's Tongues?
They are so us'd to talk before they think,
They know not how to mean one Word they say.
I'm sure I saw him take her in his Arms;
And he deserves to lose his Life for that.

[Endymion wakes.]
End.
I cannot sleep, my Heart's too full of Grief;
No sooner are my Eye-lids clos'd, but straight
Methinks I see Philander in a Rage,
Ready to strike me dead. Sure there he stands:
It must be he, for none was ever like him:
I cannot bear his Hatred any longer;
I'll speak, tho' he should kill me for't. Can you
My Lord, be angry with me still?

Phil.
Forbear;
If thou com'st near thou wilt compel me to
An Act I would avoid.

End.
Pray hear me first.

Phil.
Begone.

End.
I can't.

Phil.
Then take what thou deserv'st.

[Wounds him.]
End.
Blest be that Hand: Again, for Pity's Sake.

Phil.
My Legs now fail me quite with Loss of Blood;
Take your Revenge; I'll teach you Cruelty:
It was this luckless Hand that hurt the Princess.
Tell my Pursuers, you receiv'd your Wound
In staying me, and I will second it.

[Noise without.
End.
Oh, fly, and save your self, my Lord.

Phil.
How's this?
Would'st thou I should be safe?

End.
Else it were vain
For me to live: The Wound you gave me has
Not yet bled much; reach me that noble Hand,
I'll help to cover you.

Phil.
Art thou then true?

End.
Or let me perish loath'd; Come, my good Lord,
Creep in among these Bushes; who does know,
But that the Gods may save your precious Life?

Phil.
Then shall I die for Grief, if not for this,
That I have wounded thee; what wilt thou do?

End.
Shift well enough for one, I warrant you.

Within.

Follow, follow; that way they went.

End.
With my own Wound I'll bloody my own Sword,
I need not counterfeit to fall; Heav'n knows,
That I can stand no longer.

Enter Thrasomond, Cleon, Agremont, and Adelard,
Thras.
I'm sure,
To this Place we have track'd him by his Blood.

Agr.
Yonder creeps one away.

Cleon.
Stay, what are you?

End.
A wretched Creature, wounded in these Woods
By Beasts; relieve me, if your Names be Men,
Or I shall perish.

Cleon.
This is he, my Lord,
Upon my Soul, that hurt her; 'tis the Boy
That serv'd her.

Thras.
O thou damn'd in thy Creation,
What Cause hadst thou to hurt the Princess? speak.

End.
Then I'm betray'd.

Cleon.
No, apprehended, Sir.

End.
Well, I confess the Fact, urge it no more.
I set upon the Princess, and design'd
Her Death: For Charity, let fall at once
The Punishment you mean, and do not load
This weary'd Flesh with Tortures.

Thras.
I will know
Who hir'd thee to this.

End.
My own Revenge.

Thras.
Revenge! for what?

End.
It pleas'd her to receive
Me for her Page, and when my Fortunes ebb'd,
(As Rivers being unsupply'd grow dry)
And Men strid o'er them carelesly; She pour'd
Her welcome Graces on my Wants, and swell'd
My Streams so high, that they o'erflow'd their Banks.
Threatning Destruction to whoe'er durst cross 'em.
But then as swift as Storms rise at Sea,
She cast her fiery Eyes like Lightning on me,
And in an instant blasted all my Hopes;
And left me worse, and more contemn'd by far
Than other little Brooks, because I had
Been great: In short I knew I could not live,
And therefore did desire to die reveng'd.

Thras.
I'll torture ye i'fecks.

Agr.
Come lead him hence.

[Philander creeps out.]
Phil.
Turn back, you Ravishers of Innocence:
Know you the Price of that you bear away
So rudely?

Adel.
Who is this?

Cleon.
The Lord Philander.

Phil.
'Tis not the Treasure of all Kings in one,
The Wealth of Tagus, nor the Rocks of Pearl
That pave the Court of Neptune, can weigh down
This Virtue: It was I that hurt the Princess.
Place me some God upon a Pyramis,
Higher than Hills of Earth, and lend a Voice
Loud as your Thunder to me; that from thence
I may declare to all the under World
The Worth that dwells in him.

Thras.
Who's this?

End.
My Lord, some Man that's weary of his Life.

Phil.
Leave these untimely Courtesies, Endymion.

End.
Alas, he's mad; come, will you lead me on?

Phil.
By all the Oaths that Men ought most to keep,
And Gods do punish most when they are broken,
He touch'd her not. Take heed, Endymion,
How thou dost drown the Virtues thou hast shewn
With Perjury: By all that's good, 'twas I;
You know she stood betwixt me and my Right.

Agr.
It was Philander.

Cleon.
'Tis a brave Boy.

Adel.
I fear,
We were all deceiv'd.

Phil.
Have I no Friend here?

Cleon.
Yes.

Phil.
Pray shew it then,
Somebody lend a Hand to draw me near him?
Would you have Tears shed for you when you die?
Then lay me gently on his Neck, that there
I may weep Floods, and breath my Spirit out.
'Tis not the Wealth of Plutus, nor the Gold
Lock'd in the Heart of Earth, can buy away
This armful from me: You hard-hearted Men,
More stony than these Mountains, can you see
Such pure Blood drop, and not cut off your Flesh
To stop it with? Queens ought to tear their Hair
To bind these Wounds, and bathe them with their Tears.
If I had Strength, I'd pluck my Heart out. Oh,
Endymion! Thou that art the Wealth of poor
Philander, and that I have us'd so ill;
Pray let my Crimes be punish'd as they ought,
And don't forgive me, I deserve it not.

Enter King, &c.
King.
What is the Villain ta'en?

Thras.
Both these confess the Deed.

Phil.
Sir, question it no more, 'twas I.

King.
The Fellow that did fight with him will tell.

Ara.
Ay me! I know he will.

King.
You know him sure.

Ara.
No, Sir; if it was he, he was disguis'd.

Phil.
I was so. Oh why am I not yet dead?

King.
Thou vain, ambitious Fool; thou that hast laid
A Train for thy own Life; now I do mean
To do; I'll leave to talk: Bear him to Prison.

Ara.
Sir, they did plot together to take hence
This harmless Life; should it pass unreveng'd,
I should to Earth go weeping; grant me then
(By all the Love a Father bears his Child)
Their Custody, and that I may appoint
Their Tortures, and the Way they are to die.

King.
'Tis granted; take 'em to you with a Guard.
Come, Princely Thrasomond, this Business past,
We may with more Security go on
To our intended Match.

[Exeunt all but Cleon and Agremont.
Agr.
This Action of Philander, I'm afraid,
Will lose the People's Hearts.

Cleon.
No; fear it not:
Their Subtilty will think it but a Trick.

Enter Adelard.
Agr.
How are his Wounds?

Adel.
They are but Scratches; it
Was only Loss of Blood that made him faint.

Cleon.
Come, let's go see him.

Adel.
No, not yet; The King
Has told the Princess he'll be with her straight,
And that he will examine there Philander,
About this Plot; and his Confederates.

Cleon.
Sure if he had a Plot, he'd tell us on't.
But what a Devil made him hurt the Princess,
I can't imagine what all this should mean.