University of Virginia Library

SCENE VIII.

Arsinoe and Egysthus.
ARSINOE.
Presume not thou, though need has made it so—
And I must wear a masque before the king,
That I will light thee to her couch again.
Thy nights of majesty are all departed;
So hie thee hence to graze as thou wert wont,
And with some blouzy mate of thy degree,
Forget the dalliance of a royal bed.

EGYSTHUS.
Gentle, Arsinoe; ill words feed strife.
Our fates are mingled, and we should be friends.
If I am made of coarser stuff than kings,
And to be such is fault; is the fault mine?
If I was mother'd, like a whelp, in straw,
Say good Arsinoe if the sin was mine?
For well I wot, that to be lowly born,
Makes half a traitor of a man at court.
Pray what am I, that I should be so scorn'd;
Mulct of the grace that nature gave my form,
And spurn'd at as a draggled kennel cur.
What are you all that wear these lofty looks,
But blow flies, feeding on the state's sore back?
Have I not learnt the secrets of your game,
And known that with your stately stepping pride,
Ye are gynecocratic puppets all?
Taunt me no more, my haughty headed dame.
What, if I turn on you, and on the queen!
I stand in peril, but I know the worst;
And will no longer wheedle nor petition.

ARSINOE.
Did I not see, or was it but a dream,
You, you, Egysthus, cringing for my mercy?

EGYSTHUS.
But then, I thought not that your courtly craft
Would crush the friendless, to escape yourself.
My eyes are opened now to all your guile,
And I can look at death, with eye as firm
As he of Troy. But life is sweet to all;
As sweet to him that on the stirrup tends,
As to the monarch that bestrides the steed;
And my sweet life I will not cheaply lose.

ARSINOE.
Art thou, Egysthus, that light-hearted lad,
Who blush'd and linger'd, and was loath to come
To share the love and splendour of a queen?

EGYSTHUS.
Thy masque, Arsinoe; the king is here!