University of Virginia Library

ACT I.

SCENE I.

Enter Dion, Cleremont, and Tharselin.
Cler.

Here's no Lords nor Ladies.

Dion.

Credit me, Gentlemen, I wonder at it! They receiv'd
strict Charge from the King to attend here. Besides,
it was boldly publish'd, that no Officer should forbid any
Gentleman that desir'd, to Attend and Hear.

Cler.

Can you guess the Cause?

Dion.

Sir, 'tis plain, about the Spanish Prince, that's come to marry our
Kingdom's Heir, and be our Soveraign.

Thra.

Many (that will seem to know much) say,
She looks not on him like a Maid in Love.

Dion.

Faith, Sir, the Multitude (that seldom know any thing but their
own Opinions) speak that they would have. But the Prince, before his own
Approach, receiv'd so many confident Messages from the State, that I think
she's resolv'd to be rul'd.

Cler.

Sir, it is thought, with her, he shall enjoy both these Kingdoms of
Sicily and Calabria.

Dion.

Sir, it is, without Controversie, so meant. But 'twill be a troublesome
Labour for him to possess both these

Kingdoms with Honour and with Safety,
Whilst our brave General, the Prince of Arragon,
The Conquerour of one of those fair Crowns,
Is living; and living too so virtuously,
The common Darling of the Peoples Love,
His glorious Services so well remember'd,
And all his Injuries so much lamented.

Cler.
Our brave Philaster.

Dion.
Yes, that Galant Hero,
Who in our late Calabrian Wars, when our
Inglorious King in two set Battels lost,
Our Armies broken, and our Glory tottering,
Was sent by Heaven our Champion and Protector;
Took up the falling Sword our feeble Monarch dropt,
And led us on to that prodigious Victory,
As washt off all our Stains, and more than heal'd
Our Nation's Bleeding Honour.

Thra.
Ay, my Lord,
There spoke the Voice of Truth. The bold Philaster,
Whose Sword has planted us those Fields of Lawrel,
No less a Trophy than the fair Calabrian Diadem
Laid at the Feet of this ungrateful King.

Cler.
Troth, Gentlemen, my Ignorance in State Politicks
Will not let me know, why our forgetful King,
When this most generous Stranger,
The Atlas of our Kingdom, had not only
Repar'd our Loss, retriev'd our Fame, won him
A Crown, and shielded ev'n the very Head that wore it.
Our King, I say, in a Return for all
This Prodigy of Obligations, shou'd refuse him
So reasonable and modest a Request,
As only lending him part of those Forces,
For the recovery of his lost Arragon,
Which his own Hand had taught the Trade of War,
Torn from him in his weak and sleeping Infancy
By Spain's encroaching Monarch. Nay, and still
Our King to heap those daily Slights upon him,
Making his Services so poor a Payment,
As if he studied to inform the World
He never ow'd him any thing.

Dion.
Right, Sir.
Philaster won him a Crown; and still the old Custom,
The Founder of the Feast has least part of the Banquet.
But, Gentlemen, you have not nickt the Mark yet.
For his refusing him to lend him Arms
For the recovery of his lost Arragon,
There's twenty State Excuses: As perhaps,
He was not willing to provoke a Neighbour
So Potent as the Spaniard. Or what not!
But here's a Slight a hundred times more barbarous.
Who must he choose a Husband for his Daughter,
The Heir of both those Crowns, but this young Spaniard?
All the Proud Trophies of Philaster's Sword,
Made the fair Prize of his insulting Enemy,
Such an Affront! Indignity like this,
Not all the whole State-Rhetorick can soften.

Cler.
But, Sir, how does the wrong'd Philaster bear it!

Dion.
But ill enough, no doubt; I must confess,
His Modesty and Virtue are too Dumb
Complainants: Yet, his Murmurs have but whisper'd.
But when th'Alarm of our Cries shall wake him,
We hope to see that Day, when we shall teach him
To make his Wrongs talk louder.

Enter Gallatea, Megra, and Ladies.
Thra.

See, the Ladies! By this good Light a jolly Troop of fair ones.
What's the first?

Dion.

A wise and modest Gentlewoman, that attends the Princess.

Cler.

The Second?

Dion.

Faith, I think she is one whom the State keeps for the Agents of our
Confederate Princes: Her Name is common through the Kingdom, and the
Trophies of her Dishonour, advanc'd beyond Hercules's Pillars. She loves to
try the several Constitutions, of Mens Bodies, for the good of the Commonwealth.

Cler.

She's a profitable Member.

Meg.

Peace, if you love me; you shall see these Gentlemen stand their
Ground, and not Court us.

Gal.

What if they should?

Meg.

What if they should? Why, if they should, I say, they were never
abroad; what Forreigner would do so? It writes them directly
untravell'd.

Cler.

Madam, your best Desires attend you.

Gal.

So attended, my Train's a very fair one.

Cler.

How fair, Madam?

Gal.

As Virgin Innocence, Sir.

Cler.

O fye! such blooming Youth, and smiling Charms,
And sleep in melancholy Virgin-Sheets!
It is a Fault, sweet Lady.

Gal.

That you would mend, sweet Lord.

Cler.

With all my Soul, dear Angel.

[Offering to embrace her.
Gal.

Nay, hold Sir, Distance and cool Air are Summer Blessings,
and I shall be very angry if you rob me of them.

Cler.
By this right Hand, a Gypsie.

Gal.
What! for telling you your slender Fortune. Sir?

Thra.
Why, Cleremont, look to your self, she'll be too hard for you.

Gal.
Not too easie, Sir, and the other Fault's more pardonable.

Meg.
Why how now, Gallatea, all the Hearts your own?
We shall grow envious presently, indeed we shall.
'Tis you that carry the whole Court away.

Gal.
As much of it as I can bear, Madam; and truly
A very little tires me. But envious Madam,
Not quite to lose your Kindness,
Nor engross all the Love; my tender Weakness
Is ready to resign the heavier weight of it,
To your more able strength.

Meg.
Say you so, pert one?
You are very brisk, methinks, but I shall match you.

Gal.
At your own Play, no doubt; for I am no Gamester.

Meg.
Well, well, the time may come—

Gal.

When you and I may laugh together: You at making the Jest, and I
at marring it.

Thra.
But see the King.

Enter King, Pharamond, Arethusa, Guards, &c.
King.
To give a stronger Testimony of our Love,
Than sickly Promises (which commonly
In Princes find both Birth and Burial
In one Breath,) we have drawn you worthy, Sir,
To make your fair Indearments to our Daughter;
And worthy Services known to our Subjects:
Now lov'd, and wonder'd at. Next, our Intent,
To plant you deeply, our immediate Heir,
Both to our Blood and Kingdoms. For this Lady,
(The best part of your Life, as you confirm me,
And I believe you) her few Years, and Sex,
Yet teach her nothing but her Fears and Blushes,
Desires without Desire, Discourse and Knowledge,
Only of what her self, is to her self,
Make her feel moderate Health: And when she Sleeps,
In making no ill Day, knows no ill Dreams.
Last, Noble Son, (for so I now must call you)
What I have done thus publick, is not only
To add a Comfort in particular,
To you or me, but all; and to confirm
The Nobles and the Gentry of these Kingdoms,
By Oath to your Succession, which shall be
Within this Month at most.

Thra.
This will be hardly done.

Cler.
It must be ill done, if it be done.

Dion.
When 'tis at best, 'twill be but half done,
Whilst so brave a Gentleman is wrong'd and flung off.

Thra.
I fear.

Cler.
Who does not?

Dion.
I fear not for my self, and yet I fear too:
Well, we shall see, we shall see: no more.

Pha.
Kissing your white Hand (Mistress) I take leave,
To thank your Royal Father: And thus far,
To be my own free Trumpet. Understand,
Great King, and these your Subjects, mine that must be,
(For so deserving you have spoke me, Sir,
And so deserving I dare speak my self)
To what a Person, of what Eminence,
Ripe Expectation, of what Faculties,
Manners and Virtues, you would wed your Kingdoms;
You in me have your Wishes. Gentlemen,
Believe me in a Word, a Prince's Word,
There shall be nothing to make up a Kingdom
Mighty and flourishing, defenc'd, and feard,
Equal to be Commanded and Obey'd;
But through the Travels of my Life I'll find it,
And tye it to this Country.
And, dearest Lady, to your dearest self,
(Dear in the choice of him, whose Name and Lustre
Must make you more and mightier) Let me say,
You are the Blessed'st living; for, sweet Princess,
You shall enjoy a Man of Men to be
Your Servant, you shall make him yours, for whom
Ev'n Queens must die.

Thra.
Miraculous!

Cler.

This Speech calls him Spaniard, being nothing but a large Inventory
of his own Commendations.

Enter Philaster.
Dion.

I wonder what's his Price? for certainly he'll sell himself, he has
so prais'd his Shape: But here comes one more worthy those large Speeches,
than the large Speaker of them: Let me be swallow'd quick, if I can find
in all the Anatomy of yon Man's Virtues, one Sinnew sound enough to promise
for him, He shall be Constable. By this Sun, he'll ne're make King,
unless it be of Trifles, in my poor Judgment.

Phi.
Right noble Sir, as low as my Obedience,
I bend to beg your Favour.

K.
Sir, you have it.

Dion.
Mark but the King, how pale he looks, he fears!
Oh! this same whoreson Conscience, how it jades us!

K.
Speak your Intents, Sir.

Phi.
Shall I speak 'em freely?

K.
Free as good Manners will allow, you may.

Phi.
Then, Sir, if Truth without the Sin of Vanity
May be its own Remonstrance, I come
To tell you (not that I upbraid, or boast)
That I have serv'd you, King. And tho' the fair
Calabrian Diadem was that poor Offering,
That the Acceptance more than paid the Present:
However, Sir, the humblest Modesty
May claim this Merit from a conquer'd Crown,
To say, 'twas hard, from the adoring World
To choose no Homager for those fair Eyes,
But th'only Person of the whole Creation
Th'ungrateful Object of my deepest Hate:
Not that I think the Man he wears about him
Is worth my Angry Thought: But as the Spaniard,
The Son and Heir of that low Spirited Father
That took th'Advantage of my sleeping Cradle,
To dispossess me of my native Arragon;
Him to be call'd to wear my Wreaths, my Trophies:
Oh! King, this is too cruel!

Dion.
Now it heats.

Phi.
And now, Sir, for you, Prince, you Forreign Man:
Ne're stare, nor put on wonder; for you must
Endure me, and you shall. This Earth you tread on,
A Dowry as you hope with this fair Princess,
Whose Name I bow to) is a Soyl too Rich
For thy Inheritance, and I up, and living,
Having my self about me, and my Sword,
The Souls of all my Name, and Memories;
These Arms, and some few Friends, besides the Gods,
To see thee calmly reap the Royal Harvest
My Sweat and Blood have planted. I tell thee, Pharamond,
When thou art King, look I be Dead and Rotten,
And my Name Ashes: For hear me, Pharamond,
This very Ground thou goest on; this fat Earth,
I and my Friends made Fertile with their Faiths,
Before that Day of Shame, shall gape and swallow
Thee and thy Nation, like a hungry Grave,
Into her hidden Bowels: Prince it shall;
By the just Gods it shall.

Pha.
He's Mad, beyond cure, Mad.

Dion.
Here's a Fellow has some Fire in's Veins:
The Out-landish Prince looks like a Tooth-drawer.

Phi.
Sir Prince of Popinjayes, I'll make it well appear
To you, I am not Mad.

K.
You displease us,
You are too bold.

Phi.
No, Sir, I am too tame,
Too much a Turtle, a thing born without Passion,
A faint Shadow, that every drunken Cloud sails over,
And makes nothing.

K.
I do not fancy this,
Call our Phisicians? Sure he's somewhat tainted.

Thra.
I do not think 'twill prove so.

Dion.

Does he intend to give him a general Purge for all the Pains he
suffers, or means to let him Blood? Be constant, Gentlemen, by Heaven
I'll run his Hazard, although I run my Name out of the Kingdom.

Cler.
Peace, we are all one Soul.

Pha.
What you have seen in me, to stir Offence,
I cannot find, unless it be this Lady,
Offer'd into my Arms, with the Succession,
Which I must keep: tho' it hath pleas'd your Fury
To mutiny within you: 'Tis sufficient,
The King will leave it me,
And I dare make it mine: You have your Answer.

Phi.
If thou wert sole Inheritor to him
That made the World his; and couldst see no Sun
Shine upon any thing, but thine: were Pharamond
As truly Valiant, as I feel him cold,
And ring'd amongst the choicest of his Friends,
And from this Presence: Spight of all these Boasts,
You should hear farther from me.

K.
Sir, you wrong the Prince:
I gave you not this Freedom, to brave our best Friends;
You deserve our Frown: Go to, be better temper'd.

Phi.
It must be, Sir, when I am nobler us'd.

Gal.
Ladies,
This would have been a Pattern of Succession,
Could Merit but claim Diadems. By my Life,
He is the worthiest the true Name of Man,
This Day, within my Knowledge.

Meg.
I cannot tell what you may call your Knowledge,
But the other is the Man set in my Eye:
Oh! 'tis a Prince of Wax.

Gal.
A Dog, it is.

Phi.
Oh! King! my Griefs and Sufferance.

K.
Give me your Grievances in private.

[They Whisper.
Phi.
Take them,
And ease me of a Load, would bow strong Atlas.

Cler.
He dares not stand the Shock.

Dion.

I cannot blame him, There's Danger in't. Every Man in this Age
has not a Soul of Chrystal, for all Men to read their Actions through
Mens Hearts and Faces are so far asunder, that they hold no Intelligence.
Do but view yon Stranger well, and you shall see a Feaver through all his
Bravery, and feel him shake; if he give not back his Crown again, upon the
report of an Elder Gun, I have no Augury.

K.
Go to:
Be more yourself, as you respect our Favour;
You'll stir us else: Smooth your Brow, or by the Gods—

Phi.
I am dead, Sir, y'are my Fate: It was not I
Said I was wrong'd: I carry all about me,
My weak Stars led me to, all my weak Fortunes.
Who dares in all this Presence speak (that is
But Man of Flesh, and may be Mortal) tell me
I do not most intirely love this Prince,
And honour his full Virtues?

K.
Sure he's possest!

Phi.
Yes, with my Father's Spirit: It's here, O King,
A dangerous Spirit: now he tells me, King,
I was a King's Heir, bids me be a King,
And whispers to me, I was born to Empire.
'Tis strange he will not let me sleep, but dives
Into my Fancy, and there gives me shapes,
That kneel, and do me service, cry me King:
Tho' that Proud Daw struts in my borrow'd Plumes.
What tho' I've fixt a Crown on other's Brows,
And want an aiding Hand to claim my own?
What tho' ungrateful Man denies me Justice:
Yet there are Gods will hear, and do me Right.
But I'll suppress him, he's a factious Spirit,
And will undo me; noble Sir, your Hand,
I am your Servant.

K.
Away, I do not like this:
I'll make you tamer, or I'll dispossess you you
Both of Life and Spirit.

[Exeunt K. Pha. Are.
Dion.
I thank you, Sir, you dare not for the People.

Gal.
Ladies, what think you now of this brave Fellow?

Meg.

A pretty talking Fellow, hot at hand: but eye yon Stranger, is
he not a fine compleat Gentleman? O these Strangers, I do affect them
strangely; as I live, I could love all the Nation over and over for his sake.

Gal.
Comfort your poor Head-piece, Lady, 'tis a weak one.

[Exeunt Ladies.
Dion.
See how his Fancy labours, has he not
Spoke home and bravely? what a dangerous Train
Did he give fire to? How he shook the King,
Made his Soul melt within him, and his Blood
Run into Whay; it stood upon his Brow,
Like a cold Winter Dew.

Phi.
Gentlemen,
You have no suit to me? I am no Minion:

Cle.
How do you, worthy Sir?

Phi.
Well, very well;
And so well, that if the King please I find
I may live many Years.

Di.
The King must please,
Whilst we know what you are, and who you are,
Your Wrongs and Injuries: Shrink not, worthy Sir,
But add the Merit of your Glories to you,
In whose fair Name we'll waken all the Gods,
To arm for your Protection.

Phi.
Friends, no more;
Our Ears may be corrupted:
Do you love me?

Thra.
Do we love Heav'n, and Honour?

Phi.
My Lord Dion, you had
A vertuous Gentlewoman, call'd you Father,
Is she yet alive?

Dion.
Most honour'd Sir, she is:
But for the Penance of an idle Dream,
Has undertook a tedious Pilgrimage.

Enter Galatea.
Phi.
Is it to me, or any of these Gentlemen you come?

Gal.
To you, my Lord: The Princess would intreat
Your present Company.

Phi.
The Princess send for me? You are mistaken.

Gal.
If you be call'd Philaster, 'tis to you.

[Ex. Gal.
Phi.
Kiss her fair Hand, and say I will attend her.

Dion.
Do you know what you do?

Phi.
Yes, go to see a Woman.

Cler.
But do you weigh the danger you are in?

Phi.
Danger in a sweet Face!
By Jupiter I must not fear a Woman.

Thra.
But are you sure it was the Princess sent?
It may be some foul Train to catch your Life.

Phi.
I do not think it, Gentlemen: She's Noble.
Hear Eye may shoot me Dead, or those true red
And white Fiends in her Face may steal my Soul out:
There's all the Danger in't: but be what may,
Her single name has arm'd me.

[Exit Phi.
Dion.
Go on:
And be as truly Happy, as th'art Fearless.

[Exeunt.
Enter Arethusa and Galatea.
Are.
Comes he not?

Gal.
Madam?

Are.
Will Philaster come?

Gal.
Dear, Madam, you were wont
To credit me at first.

Are.
But didst thou tell me so?
I am forgetful, and my Womans Strength
Is so o'recharg'd with Dangers like to grow
About my Marriage, that these Under-things
Dare not abide in such a troubled Sea.
How lookt he, when he told thee he would come?

Gal.
Why, well.

Are.
And not a little fearful?

Gal.
Fear, Madam! sure he knows not what it is.

Are.
You all are of his Faction; the whole Court
Is bold in Praise of him; whilst I
May live neglected, and do noble things,
As Fools in Strife throw Gold into the Sea,
Drowned in the doing: But I know he fears.

Gal.
Fear, Madam! (methought) his looks had more
Of Love than Fear.

Are.
Of Love? To whom? To you?
Did you deliver those plain Words I sent
With such a winning Gesture, and quick Look,
That you have caught him!

Gal.
Madam, I mean to you.

Are.
Of Love to me? Alas! thy Ignorance
Lets thee not see the Crosses of our Births:
Nature that loves not to be questioned
Why she did this, or that; but has her Ends,
And knows she does well, never gave the World
Two things so opposite, so contrary
As he and I am: If a Bowl of Blood
Drawn from this Arm of mine would poyson thee,
A Draught of his would cure thee. Love to me!

Gal.
Madam, I think I hear him.

Are.
Bring him in.
You Gods that would not have your Dooms withstood,
Whose holy Wisdoms at this time it is,
To make the Passions of a feeble Maid
The way to your bright Justice; I Obey.

Enter Philaster.
Gal.
Here is my Lord Philaster.

Are.
Oh, 'tis well.
Withdraw your self.

[Exit Galatea.
Phi.
Madam, your Messenger
Made me believe you wish'd to speak with me.

Are.
'Tis true, Philaster; but the Words are such
I have to say, and do so ill beseem
The Mouth of Woman, that I wish them said,
And yet am loth to speak them. Oh! Philaster,
Tho' by my own rich Veins born Heir to this
Fair Cicily, and by thy richer Glories
Intituled to the no less Fair Calabria,
Yet that unsatisfied Ambition haunts me,
And whispers me, I must enjoy thy Arragon.

Phi.
My Arragon!

Are.
Thine, or I die, by Heaven I die, Philaster,
If I not calmly may enjoy thy Right.

Phi.
I would do much to save that Noble Life:
Yet would be loth to have Posterity
Find in our Stories that Philaster gave
His Right to a Royal Scepter, tho' a broken one,
To save a Ladies longing.

Are.
Nay then hear:
I must and will have that, and more.

Phi.
What more?

Are.
Or lose that little Life the Gods prepared,
To trouble this poor piece of Earth withal.

Phi.
Madam what more?

Are.
Turn then away thy Face.

Phi.
No.

Are.
Do.

Phi.
Turn away my Face!
I never yet saw Enemy that lookt
So dreadfully, but that I thought my self
As great a Basalisk as he; or spake
So horrible, but that I thought my Tongue
Bore Thunder underneath as much as his:
Nor Beast that I could turn from: Shall I then
Begin to fear sweet Sounds? a Ladies Voice,
Whom I do love? Say you would have my Life,
Why, I will give it you; for 'tis of me
A thing so loath'd, and to your self that ask,
Of so poor use, that I shall make no Price.
If you intreat, I will unmov'dly hear.

Are.
Yet for my sake a little bend thy looks.

Phi.
I do.

Are.
Then Know I must have that, and thee.

Phi.
And me?

Are.
Thy Love: without which all the Land
Discover'd yet, will serve me for no use,
But to be buried in.

Phi.
Is't possible?

Are.
Now, my Philaster, if my blushing Weakness,
Has not made cheap the easy Heart I've given thee,
I have unript my Breast.

Phi.
Madam, you are too full of noble thoughts,
To lay a Train for so contemn'd a Life,
Which you may have for asking: to suspect
Were base, where I deserve no ill; love you!
By all my Hopes I do, above my Life:
But how this generous Goodness should proceed
From you, those lovely Eyes to smile so kind,
And shine so warm upon the lost Philaster,
By Heav'n, is all amazing!

Are.
Another Soul into my Body shot,
Could not have fill'd me with more Strength and Spirit,
Than this thy Breath: But spend not hasty time
In seeking how I came thus: 'Tis the Gods,
The Gods, that make me so; and sure our Love
Will be the nobler, and the better blest,
In that the secret Justice of Heaven
Is mingled with it. Thou hast been wrong'd Philaster,
And fated by the Powers that reward Vertue,
'Tis I am born to right thee.

Phi.
Brightest Excellence!
From those dear Charms there pours such Blessings on me,
Thus kneeling let me catch the golden Shower.

Are.
Rise, my Philaster, and forgive the Cruelty
Of our hard Stars, when I am forc'd to tell you,
That there's a thousand dangerous Eyes upon us:
Nor must we give our Foes the Power to hurt us.
Since then our happy Meetings must be few:
Say, how shall we devise
To hold Intelligence? That our true Loves
On any new Occasion may consult
What Path is best to tread?

Phi.
I have a Boy
Sent by the Gods, I hope, to this intent,
Not yet seen in the Court. Hunting the Buck,
I found him sitting by a Fountain side,
Of which he borrow'd some to quench his Thirst,
And paid the Nymph again as much in Tears;
By him a Garland lay, made by himself,
Of many several Flowers, bred in the Bay,
Stuck in that mystick Order, that the rareness
Delighted me: But ever when he turned
His tender Eyes upon 'em, he would weep,
As if he meant to make 'em grow again.
Seeing such pretty helpless Innocence
Dwell in his Face, I ask'd him all his Story.
He told me that his Parents gentle died,
Leaving him to the Mercy of the Fields,
Which gave him Roots; and of the Crystal Springs,
Which did not stop their Courses; and the Sun,
Which still, he thank'd him, yielded him his Light.
Then took he up his Garland, and did shew,
What every Flower, as Country-people hold,
Did signifie; and how all ordered thus,
Exprest his Grief: And to my thoughts did read
The prettiest Lecture of his Country Art,
That could be wish'd. I gladly entertain'd him,
Who was as glad to follow; and have got
The trustiest, lovingst, and the gentlest Boy,
That ever Master kept. Him will I send
To wait on you, and bear our hidden love.

Enter a Lady.
Are.
'Tis well, no more.

La.
Madam, the Prince is come to do his Service.

Are.
What will you do, Philaster, with your self?

Phi.
Why, that which all the Gods appoint out for me.

Are.
Dear, hide thy self:
Bring in the Prince.

Phi.
Hide me from Pharamond?
When Thunder speaks, which is the Voice of Jove,
Though I do reverence, yet I hide me not;
And shall a Stranger Prince have leave to brag.
To a Foreign Nation, that he made
Philaster hide himself?

Are.
He cannot know it.

Phi.
Though it should sleep for ever to the World,
It is a simple sin to hide my self,
Which will for ever on my Conscience lie.

Are.
Then, good Philaster, give him scope and way
In what he says; for he is apt to speak
What you are loth to hear: For my sake do.

Phi.
I will.

Enter Pharamond.
Pha.
My Princely Mistress, as true Lovers ought,
I come to kiss these fair hands; and to shew
In outward Ceremonies, the dear Love
Writ in my Heart.

Phi.
If I shall have an answer no directlier,
I am gone.

Pha.
To what would he have answer?

Are.
To his Claim to the Crown of Arragon.

Pha.
Sir I forbore you before the King.

Phi.
Good Sir, do so still, I would not talk with you.

Pha.
But now the time is fitter, do but offer
To make mention of Right to any Kingdom,
Tho' it be scarce habitable.

Phi.
Good Sir, let me go.

Pha.
And, by the Gods!

Phi.
Peace, Pharamond: If thou—

Are.
Leave us, Philaster.

Phi.
I have done.

Pha.
You are Gone: by Heaven I'll fetch you back.

Phi.
You shall not need.

Pha.
What now?

Phi.
Know, Pharamond,
I loath to brawl with such a blast as thou,
Who art nought but a valiant Voice: But if
Thou shalt provoke me farther, Men shall say,
Thou wert, and not lament it.

Pha.
Do you slight
My Greatness so? and in the Chamber of the Princess?

Phi.
It is a Place to which I must confess
I owe a Reverence: But wer't the Church;
I, at the Altar, there's no Place so safe
Where thou dar'st injure me, but I dare kill thee:
And for your Greatness, know, Sir, I can grasp
You and your Greatness thus, thus into nothing;
Give not a Word, not a Word back: Farewell.

[Exit.
Pha.
'Tis an odd Fellow, Madam, we must stop
His Mouth with some Office, when we are married.

Are.
You were best make him your Controuler.

Pha.
I think he would discharge it well. But, Madam,
I hope our Hearts are knit; but yet so slow
The Ceremonies of State are, that 'twill be long
Before our Hands be so: A Month, an Age!
So long a Fast, and not one Taste of Love.

Are.
If you dare speak such Thoughts,
I must withdraw in Honour.

[Exit Are.
Pha.
The Constitution of my Body will never hold out till the Wedding:
I must seek out elsewhere.

[Exit Pha.