SECTION III
THE ENGLISH DRAMA
FROM ITS BEGINNING TO THE PRESENT DAY
GENERAL EDITOR
GEORGE PIERCE BAKER
PROFESSOR OF ENGLISH IN
HARVARD UNIVERSITY
1 6 12, and Lady Penelope Clifton, who died in 1613. Salmacis
and Hermaphrodites, 1 602, may possibly have been written by him ;
it is so assigned in the entry of 1639 in the Stationer's Register.
In 1613, he wrote a masque for the Lady Elizabeth's marriage,
which was performed with great splendor by the gentlemen of the
Inner Temple and Gray's Inn, and published, presumably in the
same year. There is no direct evidence that he wrote anything for
the stage after 1612.
There is no doubt that Beaumont's reputation as a poet was
very high even before his death. He was buried in Westminster
Abbey close by Chaucer and Spenser j and the verses on Shakspere,
usually attributed to William Basse, bid
Renowned Spencer lye a thought more nye
To learned Chaucer, and rare Beaumont lye
A little nearer Spenser, to make roome
For Shakespeare in your threefold, fowerfold Tombe,
To lodge all fowre in one bed make a shift
Until Doomesdaye, for hardly will a fift
Betwixt this day and that by Fate be slayne
For whom your curtaines may be drawn againe.
Of Fletcher's life after Beaumont's withdrawal from the stage,
our information is derived mainly from studies of the chronology of
his plays and of his relations to collaborators. There is no trace of
any discord between him and any of his fellows ; and his continued
friendship with Ben Jonson is testified to by the latter in his Conver-
sations 'with Drummond and by the commendatory verses of William
Brome.1 In 1612-13, in the opinion of the present writer,2 he
was engaged with Shakspere in direct collaboration on Henry VIII,
the Two Noble Kinsmen, and, perhaps, the non-extant Carden'to.
From this time on, he wrote three or four plays each year, collab-
orating on many of these with Massinger. A communication of
I Prefixed to Folio, 1647.
1 The Influence of Beaumont and Fletcher on Shakspere, pp. 35-56.
v
about this date from Field, Daborne, and Massinger to Henslow
alludes to a " play of Mr. Fletcher and ours." Before 1616 he
wrote for various companies, but after that date so far as can be dis-
covered, exclusively for the King's Men. Only ten plays in which
he or Beaumont had a share were printed before his death: five
with his name, — the Faithful Shepherdess, 1609 (?); Cupid's
Revenge, 1615; the Scornful Lady, 16165 A King and No
King, 1619; Philaster, 1620, '22 (the last three uby F.
Beaumont and J. Fletcher"): four anonymously, — the Woman
Hater, 1607, the Knight of the Burning Pestle, 1613 j the
Maid's Tragedy, 1619, '22; Thierry and Theodoret, 1621 j and
one in the Shakspere Folio, 1623, Henry VIII.
There is abundant testimony to the great popularity of Fletcher's
plays during his lifetime ; and the Beaumont-Fletcher folio of
1 647, containing plays not hitherto printed, was accompanied by a
formidable array of commendatory verses. The literary reputation
of the two friends can be judged from the fact that either during
their lives or after their deaths, their praises were heralded by Jon-
son, Chapman, Webster, Waller, Denham, Lovelace, Cartwright,
Herrick, Brome, and Shirley.
The following list T includes all the plays in which either Beau-
mont or Fletcher had a share, arranged in a conjecturally chrono-
logical order. The year of the first performance is given, this co-
inciding presumably with the time of composition. The exact date
of many of the plays cannot be determined, and matters of date and
authorship are in debate. Beaumont is not generally credited by
critics with a share in any of the plays of the second period nor
with Woman 's Prize, Monsieur Thomas, or the Faithful Shep-
herdess of the first period.
I *fhe Influence of Beaumont and Fletcher on Shaksftrt, pp. 92-93.
IX
FIRST PERIOD.
Woman's Prize; or, The Tamer Tamea. 1604?
Wit at Several Weapons. First •version. 1605 ?
The Woman Hater. 1606 ?
Love's Cure, or The Martial Maid. 1606 ?
Thierry and Theodoret. 1607 ?
Monsieur Thomas. 1607—8 ?
The Knight of The Burning Pestle. 1607-8 ?
Four Play sin One. 1608 ?
The Faithful Shepherdess. 1608 ?
Philaster ; or Love lies a-bleeding. 1608?
The Coxcomb. 1 609 ?
The Maid'' s Tragedy. 1609?
Cupid's Revenge. 1609-10 ?
The Scornful Lady. 1 6 1 o-l I ?
A King and No King. 1 6 1 1
The Captain. 1611 ?
SECOND PERIOD.
The Nice Valour ; or the Passionate Madman. 1612 ? ?
The Night Walker; or the Little Thief. 1612 ? ?
The Beggar's Bush . 1 6 1 a ? ?
Cardenio. (Non-extant.) 1612—13
The Mask of The Inner Temple. 1613
The Tivo Noble Kinsmen. 1613 ?
Henry VIII. 1 613?
The Honest Man's Fortune. 1613
Wit Without Money. 1614 ?
Love1 s Pilgrimage . 1614?
The Faithful Friends. 1614?
The Chances. 1615 ?
Bonduca. 1615 ?
Valentinian. 1615—16 ?
The Jeweller of Amsterdam. 1616—17 ?
The Bloody Brother; or Rolloy Duke of Normandy. 1617 ? ?
The <%ueen of Corinth. c 1617
The Loyal Subject. 1618
The Mad Lover. c 1 6 1 8
The Knight of Malta. c 1 6 1 8
THIRD PERIOD.
The Humourous Lieutenant. c 1619 ?
Sir John van Olden Barnaveldt. 1619 ?
The Custom of the Country. c 1619
The Double Marriage. c 1619
The Laivs of Candy. c 1619
The Little French Laivyer. c 1620
The False One. c 1620
Woman Pleased. c 1620
Tht Island Princess. c 1620
The Pilgrim. c 1621
The Wild Goose Chase. c 1621
The Prophetess. 1622
The Sea Voyage. 162*
The Spanish Curate. 1622
The Maid in The Mill. 1623
The Lover's Progress (The Wandering Lovers). 1623
The Fair Maid of The Inn. 1623-4
A Wife for a Month. 1624
Rule a Wife and Have a Wife. 1 624
The Noble Gentleman. 1625 ?
Coronation. 1625??
The Elder Brother. 1624-5 -? -?
The Devil of Doivgate and the Unfortunate Piety are non-
extant and it is not certain that Fletcher had any share in them.
31tttrotittction
THE first plays by Beaumont and Fletcher were not
written earlier than 1 604, in 1612 Beaumont appar-
ently ceased to write for the stage, and in 1616 he
died. The brief period of their collaboration thus came
at the climacteric of the astonishingly rapid and varied
development of the Elizabethan drama. Thirty years
before they began, there had been no theatre ; barely
twenty years before, Shakespeare had first obtained
employment with a London company of actors ; but the
public that had then been satisfied with the doggerel
and personified abstractions of Wilson's comedies was
by 1604 able to enjoy the exquisite fun and sentiment
of Twelfth Night and the clever caricatures of Every
Man in His Humour. The same dramatist who had
compiled Titus Andronicus was writing Othello, and
the development of Shakespeare's genius had been par-
alleled by the general progress of dramatic art. The
material prosperity, social status, and literary standing
o? the drama had also greatly improved, and play-
wrights were frequently gentlemen and scholars who
brought to their work courtly or critical tastes, de-
manding new aims and new methods in art. It was
recognized that the path for future progress was illumi-
nated by the masterpieces of the past and present, but
there was no suspicion that the highest point had been
attained, rather a cry for advance and divergence.
x
The early drama had been nothing if not popular,
but "By the first decade of the seventeenth century the
dramatists themselves were chafing under the whims of an
illiterate audience and turning to the cultivated or courtly
for support. Their appeal came to be less and less to
the crowd in the pit and more to the gentles who wit-
nessed the performances at court or sat on the stage
in the public theatres. Thus Webster excuses the
defects of the White Devil as a true dramatic poem
because «' the breath that comes from the incapable
multitude is able to poison ... the most sententious
tragedy that ever was written. " So Jonson dedicates
plays to " the special fountain of manners, the Court,"
"to the noblest nurseries of humanity and liberty in
the kingdom, the Inns of Court," and "to the most
noble and most equal sisters, the two most famous uni-
versities." Instances of this sort could be multiplied
from prologues and dedications ; and further evidence
of the growing influence of courtly and cultivated pat-
ronage may be found in the success of the private theatres
with their higher prices and exclusive audiences, and
also in the influence of courtly manners and courtly
entertainments on the public stage.
In some important respects this change in the character
of patronage pointed towards decadence. In appealing
to the populace, the early drama had always been patri-
otic and usually moral, but the later drama turned to
a court that possessed neither a national spirit nor moral
decency. The vulgar crowd that delighted to see the
field of Agincourt within the wooden O was a sounder
moral guide than the wits who relished the double en-
^Introduction xiii
tendre of Beaumont and Fletcher's courtiers, and the
apprentice who approved of Old Fortunatus was per-
haps as good a guide to vital worth in literature as the
gentleman of fashion who accepted the dedication of
one of Chapman's comedies. A corrupt and shameless
court and its hangers-on was henceforth to patronize
the drama and to furnish it with both subjects for satire
and ideals of conduct, while the increasing Puritanism
was to widen the breach between the people and the
stage. The moral decadence that resulted was, how-
ever, by no means foreseen ; it was rather in desire for
both moral and aesthetic refinement that the dramatists
began to ridicule the taste of the vulgar and portray the
manners of men of the world, to refuse the plaudits
of the idle apprentices and seek those of the no less idle
young gentlemen of the Inns of Court.
The early drama again had been anything but crit-
ical. Though Plautus and Seneca were its models,
knowledge of the classical drama was not sufficiently
general or thorough to afford effectual criticism ; while
the demands of the audiences at the public theatres
forced a complete adaptation of classical models and a
neglect of classical precepts. Criticism was offered by
outsiders with literary ideals like Sidney or by moral
objecters like Gosson, but the dramatists pursued their
way unheedingly, meeting the limitations of a bare
stage, the tastes of a motley audience, and the varied
artistic impulses of the Elizabethan Renaissance by
means of the freest experimentation. The early years
were, therefore, the time of experiment, of the multi-
plication and the confusion of types, and of an increas-
xiv 3|ntroDuction
ing disregard of rule and precedent ; but by the end of
the century the knowledge of the classical drama had
increased and was possessed by men capable of apply-
ing it to their own work. The drama was established
as. a national, indigenous, and poetical form of litera-
ture ; there could be no danger, as there had been in
the days of Gorboduc, of a return to mere classical imi-
tation ; but there was opportunity for consideration,
criticism, and new departures. Jonson and Webster
recognized in their prefaces the impossibility of classical
regularity in the face of audiences accustomed to other
methods, and both paid hearty tribute to the genius of
their predecessors, but, although the merits of preceding
plays were recognized and adopted, their absurdities
were by this time apparent and were to be hooted out
of court. Instead of a hap-hazard representation of life,
the drama was henceforth to be supplied with definite
aims and definite methods and rules. This criticism
prepared the way for a loss of spontaneity and initiative,
but no decadence was manifest in the ideals proposed
by Jonson ; and it was as his disciples that Beaumont
and Fletcher began their work. They and the other
dramatists were charged by Jonson to be conscious
of high aims and of their duty as artists, to be able to
declare with him in his dedication of Volpone : "I
have laboured for their instruction and amendment, to
reduce not only the ancient forms, but manners of the
scene, the easiness, the propriety, the innocence, and
last, the doctrine, which is the principle end of poesie,
to inform men in the best reason of living. ' * Working
still for a popular stage and limited by the demands of
^Introduction xv
the theatres, they were to study past achievement crit-
ically, attend to purpose, method, and rule, and advance
to new achievement with a finer and more thorough
realization of their duties and opportunities than their
predecessors had known.
Gentlemen by birth, attached to the court rather
than the people, trained by their own education and
their association with Jonson to a consciousness of their
art, Beaumont and Fletcher naturally viewed the plays of
their predecessors with critical, though doubtless appre-
ciative minds. That they admired much is indicated
by the freedom with which they borrowed situations,
ideas, or types of character from Jonson, Shakespeare,
or another ; but, though they did not remain JonsonianT
realists or pay over-much heed to classical rules or
precedents, there can be no doubt that they were in
full sympathy with the struggle for a more cultivated
audience and a more critical art. The importance of ?
their relation to this new movement may be seen by
reference to certain types of plays which they avoided
as well as by reference to those types that they intro-
duced or developed.
Chronicle-history plays were condemned by the
critical group because of their absurd violations of the
unities and because of the incongruities between their
material, — battles, pageants, coronations, depositions,
— and the inadequate facilities and few actors of the
Elizabethan theatre. Chronicle-history in fact had run
its course and was approaching a natural death. In the
prologue to Henry V Shakespeare frankly acknowledged
the absurdities of the genre at the same time that Jon-
xvi ^Introduction
son was vigorously ridiculing it in the prologue of
Every Man in His Humour. These two critical de-
clarations were its valedictory, although Shakespeare
himself, working with stories from English chronicles
and employing many of the methods which he had
used earlier, developed the chronicle-history into Mac-
beth and Lear, and later joined with Fletcher in a
revival of the old type in Henry VIII. Beaumont and
Fletcher in their collaboration made no use of the
matter of the chronicles or of the methods or spectacles
of the chronicle play.
In a similar way the revenge tragedy reached its
culmination at the time when the critical were ready to
scoff at it. The story of blood vengeance, directed by
a ghost and performed with hesitation and bewilder-
ment by a philosophically inclined protagonist, had
been introduced and popularized by Kyd in the Spanish
Tragedy, but the dramatists themselves did not awake
to the crudities of the type until many of them had
used it and Shakespeare had transformed it into Hamlet.
Then Ben Jonson was ready to ridicule the raging
Hieronimo,1 to whose part he had previously, in his
additions to Kyd's play, given a serious interpretation
and magnificent poetry. Hieronimo and Hamlet, too,
became the butts of good-natured fun from Beaumont
and Fletcher as representatives of a class of plays that
fed the taste of the vulgar.
In comedy also they departed from the fashion of
1 See Inductions to Cynthia 's Revels, 1601, and Bartholomew
Fair, 1631, acted 1614. See also the jokes on Hamlet in East-
ward Hoe, 1605.
3IntroOuct(on
XVll
an earlier day. The formless combination of a dozen
genres into something songful, witty, and entertaining,
by no means answered the views of Jonson :
But deeds and language such as men do use,
And persons such as comedy would choose,
When she would shew an image of the times,
And sport with human follies, not with crimes.
The mixture of monsters, mythologies, sentimental
couples, marvellous escapes, and witty dialogues, such
as had been furnished by plays like Friar Bacon and
Friar Bungay, the Old Wives Tale, or the Woman in
the Moon, was held contrary to law and order ; the
comedy of Lyly, Peele, and Greene, which had made
possible and conditioned the alluring romance of Arden
and Illyria, was going out of fashion and giving place
to the realistic and satirical comedies of Jonson and
Middleton. It was this realistic comedy that Beaumont
and Fletcher took as a point of departure for their sub-
sequent innovations.
Some of their earliest plays were experiments that
still further attest their attitude. Beaumont's Woman
Hater is a comedy in Jonson' s manner, and his Knight
of the Burning Pestle, * written under the inspiration of
Don Quixote, is a burlesque on contemporary plays
of adventure. Fletcher's Faithful Shepherdess is an
attempt to replace the abortive pastorals of earlier play-
wrights by a genuine and elaborate pastoral tragi-
comedy on the model of // Pastor Fido. These plays
won the praise of the critical, but the inimitable grace
1 For a discussion of these plays see the volume on Beaumont
of the Belles Lettres Series, Professor R. M. Alden.
^Introduction
and sweetness of the Faithful Shepherdess and the
abounding drollery and verve of the Burning Pestle
were alike impotent to avert the disapproval of a public
all unused to such innovations.
Perhaps the failure of these plays taught the young
poets their lesson. At all events their other plays,
though they are not less novel in character and likewise
show an attachment to contemporary foreign literature,
especially Spanish novels, are characterized by an inti-
mate knowledge of stage-craft and a constant attention
to theatrical effectiveness. While they afforded full
scope for the authors' dramatic ingenuity and poetical
imagination, they also succeeded in captivating the
public. These successes resulted after further develop-
ment in two distinct classes of plays, the comedies and
the heroic romances, both of which proved of vast im-
portance in the later history of the drama.
Their comedy — of which the Scornful Lady is per-
haps the best representative of their collaboration and
the Wild Goose Chase of Fletchers later development
— has its resemblances and connections with preceding
and contemporary plays, but it is a distinct departure
from the humoristic drama, and it marks out a new
line of development followed to the close of the Re-
storation. It is a comedy of lively plot, dealing with
love as a game and woman as the quarry, and present-
ing the manners of the day, an overflowing wit, and
no morals. Its full development belongs to Fletcher's
later years.1
1 For a discussion of this comedy see the volume, Fletcher y in
the Belles Lettres Series.
31ntroDuetion *ix
The romances, sometimes tragic and sometimes
tragic-comic, likewise drew much from the contempo-
rary drama, but they also mark important innovations.
The years 1601—1608, the period of Shakespeare's
tragedies, were also, as has been noted, the time of the
prevalence of the realistic drama and of the absence of
sentimental or romantic comedy or tragi-comedy.
The return to romance, heralded probably by Phil-
aster^ resulted in six plays resembling one another and
forming the most distinctive product of Beaumont and
Fletcher's collaboration. Other plays of the collabora-
tion and many later plays by Fletcher might be grouped
with these, but the six will serve to define the type with
distinctness. The six plays, Four_PJ$$± in One, Thierry
and Theodoret, Pbilaster, the Maid's Tragedy, Cu-
pid's Revenge, and A King and No King, resemble
one another so closely in material, construction, char-
acterization, and style that a single analysis will serve
for all.
Their plots, largely invented, are ingenious and com-
plicated. They deal with royal or noble persons, with
heroic actions, and are placed in foreign localities. The
conquests, usurpations, and passions that ruin kingdoms
are their themes, there are no battles or pageants, and
the action is usually confined to the rooms of the palace
or its immediate neighborhood. Usually contrasting a
story of gross sensual passion with one of idyllic love,
they introduce a great variety of incidents and aim at
constant but varied excitement. Some of the situations
1 See The Influence of Beaumont and Fletcher on SAakspere, A. H.
Thorndike, 1901.
xx 3|ntroOuction
that they use more than once, indicate their general
character, — a girl, disguised as a boy, is stabbed by
the man whom she loves ; a woman convicted of adul-
tery brazenly defies her accusers ; the hero is saved
from the tyrant by a timely insurrection of the turbu-
lent populace. The tragic, idyllic, and sensational ma-
terial is skilfully constructed into a number of theatrically
telling situations, which lead by a series of surprises
to very effective climaxes or catastrophes. All signs of
the epic methods of construction found in the early
drama have disappeared ; there is usually a chance
until the last moment for either a happy or an unhappy
ending, and in every case the denouement or catastro-
phe is elaborately prepared for and complicated. The
dramatis person ae belong to impossible and romantic
situations rather than to life, and are usually of certain
types, — the sentimental or violent hero ; his faithful
friend, a blunt, outspoken soldier ; the sentimental
heroine, often a love-lorn maiden disguised as a page
that she may serve the hero ; the evil woman defiant in
her crimes ; and the poltroon, usually a comic person-
age. With the addition of a king, some gentlemen and
ladies of the court, and a few persons from the lower
ranks, the cast is complete. The plays depend for in-
terest not on their observation or revelation of human
nature, or the development of character, but on the
variety of situations, the clever construction that holds
the interest through one suspense to another up to the
unravelling at the very end, and on the naturalness,
felicity, and vigor of the poetry.
Such a summary is perhaps enough to suggest both
3InttoDuction xxi
the authors' indebtedness to preceding drama and their
departures and contributions. Their indebtedness may
be seen in some of their situations and types of charac-
ter. The quarrel between Melantius and Amintor in
the Maid's Tragedy must have been suggested by that
of Brutus and Cassius in Julius C&sar ; and in the
beginning of Pbilaster, the hero has marked resem-
blances to Hamlet. The sentimental heroines, who
play such important parts in the romances, offer re-
semblances to Shakespeare's, and to other representa-
tives of this type from the day of Greene's Dorothea.
The indebtedness of the six plays to preceding drama
extends, indeed, beyond details. Like all tragedies
from the time of Gorboduc and Cambyses, the tragedies
of Beaumont and Fletcher dealt with kings and nobles,
with marked reversals of fortune, with sensational
crimes, and with numerous deaths. Like all preceding
tragi-comedies, Pbilaster presents a happy conclusion
and a general reconciliation after a succession of cir-
cumstances of a tragic cast, intermingled with others to
supply comic relief. Even in their departures from pre-
cedent, Beaumont and Fletcher owe something to their
predecessors. In breaking away from the realistic tend-
encies of Jonson, they availed themselves of some of
the traits of earlier romantic comedy. On the other
hand, in their abandonment of certain types of drama,
and in their avoidance of extreme violations of time and
place, and in their consequently more coherent struc-
ture, they profited from Jonson' s counsel. Their fond-
ness for fixed types of character may also possibly be
taken as a sign of Jonson' s influence.
3f|ntroimctiott
The contribution of the heroic romances to the
drama can be understood by a comparison of the char-
acteristics just enumerated as defining the type with
those of prevailing types of tragedy and tragi-comedy.
Beaumont and Fletcher, as has been stated, forsook
tragical chronicle-history with its inevitable accompani-
ment of armies and battles, and also the Kydian type
of revenge tragedy, variously developed by Marston,
Shakespeare, Chapman, and Webster. They forsook
also the Marlowe type with its central protagonist and
his dominant passion, a type that conditioned the su-
preme efforts of Shakespeare in Lear and Othello.
Their tragedies differ from these classes of tragedies in
their stories, situations, and characters. They differ
almost as saliently in their methods of structure. Beau-
mont and Fletcher did not, like most of their predeces-
sors, turn to English or Roman history for their plots,
nor did they adhere closely to any given narratives.
They either, as apparently in Phi taster, the Maid's
Tragedy, and A King and No King, invented their
plots entirely ; or, as in Thierry and Theodoret and
Cupid's Revenge, they used old stories merely as a
basis for their favorite characters and situations. Nar-
rative and expository scenes, the accompaniments of
the old chronicle or epic method of structure, disap-
peared in their facile development of incidents into tell-
ing situations, and in their clever entanglement of varied
situations leading to surprising and theatrically effective
catastrophes and denouements. Antony and Cleopatra,
with its numerous narrative scenes and its cumbersome
structure, illustrates the survival of the epic method, as
31ntroDuction
the Maid1 s Tragedy, with its rapidity of surprise, illus-
trates the abandonment. *^*
In tragi-comedy Beaumont and Fletcher's departure
from preceding plays is distinguished by the same in-
novations in material and structure as in tragedy, and
especially by the constant emphasis they place on the
contrast between the tragic and the idyllic elements of
their plots and by their use of surprising and compli-
cated denouements. Measure for Measure, a tragi-
comedy preceding Pbilaster by only a few years, illus-
trates this departure. In Pbilaster, the idyllic element,^
neglected in the Mariana story of Measure for Measure, \
receives full treatment in constant contrast with the /
tragic ; and the denouement, which in Measure for*
Measure is only a long explanation of what every one
knows, carries us rapidly from the tragic crisis to a
happy ending through a series of telling situations.
This achievement of theatrical effectiveness even at the
cost of plausibility and consistency of character is per- i / S*
haps the chief contribution of Beaumont and Fletcher \'^/
to dramatic art and the most striking characteristic of
both their comedies and their romances.
Both classes of plays pleased their own age. By
1612, when Beaumont was twenty-six and Fletcher
thirty-three, and their work together was finished, they
were established among the poets of the highest rank
in both critical and popular estimation. Evidence has
elsewhere been advanced to show that their heroic
plays had an influence on Shakespeare's change from
tragedy to romance and on the material and structure
of his latest plays, and that Pbilaster led somewhat di-
31ntroDuction
rectly to Cymbeline.1- At all events there can be no
doubt that both comedies and romances marked out
pathways much frequented by dramatists of the next
thirty years. The paths led possibly to the ruin of the
drama through a less formal versification, an emphasis
on stage situation rather than interpretation of character,
a heedlessness of moral taste, and a fondness for abnor-
mally sensational themes ; but what is worthy as well
as what is unworthy in the plays of Massinger, Shirley,
and even the Restoration writers, owes much to Beau-
mont and Fletcher. In 1647, when their plays were
first collected, nearly all of the poets of the day joined
in commendatory verses expressing admiration without
bounds. They were ranked above Jonson and Shake-
speare ; and, if we make all due allowance for adula-
tion, there remains an unquestionable sincerity in the
preference that most of the verses accord them. An
archaicism in language and taste and an unevenness of
style are charged to Shakespeare, and a heaviness and
laboriousness to Jonson, while the modernity and nat-
uralness of the younger men receive contrasted praise.
The Restoration found their plays the favorites of the
theatre, though the genius of Betterton discovered its
best opportunities in the great parts of Shakespeare's
tragedies ; and Dryden only summed up the critical
opinion of the day in his masterly analyses that ranked
them with Shakespeare and Jonson. By the beginning of
the eighteenth century, Pseudo-classicism brought them
into disrepute with the critical, and a chastened stage
1 The Influence of Beaumont and Fletcher on Sbakspere, A. H.
Thorndike, 1901.
jflntro&uetion xxv
saw their plays but seldom. During the two centuries
since, they have never recovered their former popu-
larity, yet they have never been long without favor
from the reading public, as the various editions of their
plays testify, and one may doubt whether their influ-
ence on the stage has ever been quite lost.
To-day, however, it is only by recalling their posi-
tion and relations in the history of the drama in the
seventeenth century that we are likely to form a gener-
ous estimate of their genius and art or a just appreciation
of the plays that best represent their combined endea-
vors, the heroic romances. On reading them, one's first
admiration is doubtless for the astonishing cleverness of
the invention and construction. Since their day we have
had romances and melodramas in multitudes, both in
dramas and novels; and devices for exciting the reader's
attention and holding him in a suspense to be ended by
a surprise and a fresh suspense have been multiplied and
elaborated indefinitely. Yet few works of fiction secure
the reader's attention to the story with the power of
the Maid1 s Tragedy. There are faults and conventions,
to be sure, that would not be repeated to-day. The
masque in it is an interlude, a piece of stage decoration
and vocalism, peculiar to the period ; and the idyl of
Aspatia, though it affords an opportunity for exquisite
poetry, is again not altogether to our taste. The lady
who accompanies Melantius to the masque is introduced
with a good deal of flourish but to no purpose ; and
the sudden conversion of Evadne from the merciless
and shameless taunter of Amintor into his penitent
lover and avenger, is a sheer impossibility. This last
defect, however, illustrates both the method and the
power of the authors. The difficulty is one not infre-
quent in romance : a sensational plot requires an incred-
ible revolution in the character of one of the actors.
Evadne has to be converted, and her conversion must
take place on the stage, and the agent cannot be the
frantic Amintor but must be her brother, the blunt and
unyielding Melantius. Given the situation — Melan-
tius is to cow and convert Evadne — and how could
it be managed with greater theatrical effectiveness or
indeed with more vivid suggestion of reality than in the
unrelenting tirades that Fletcher has written ? Our
authors never hesitated to face impossibilities, least of all
incredible changes in character ; they simply sat firm in
the saddle and spurred their Pegasus for the jump.
That some of the scenes act with unparalleled stage
effect, we have the testimony of seventeenth century play-
goers and of some few amateurs who have undertaken
the play in recent years. The rnurder of the king would
surely thrill the spectator as few stage murders do.
With what extraordinary vividness the whole scene
comes before even a reader's eyes, — the smirking jests
of the gentlemen-in-waiting, the half-lit room, the
stealthy binding of the king, his slow awakening, his
confused impotent interruptions of Evadne' s unflinch-
ing recital, the uplifted knife, the groans for pity, the
terrible stabs —
Hell take me then ! This for my Lord Amintor !
This for my noble brother ! And this stroke
For the most wronged of women !
She glides across the stage — the bloody knife uncon-
cealed — and the smirking gentlemen enter again.
3|ntroDuction
The particular kingdom in the world of romance to
which Beaumont and Fletcher introduce us is not a
happy or a healthy one, but it does not lack excite-
ment. It is no place for meditation over life's purposes,
or for observation of human motives, and none is per-
mitted. We are given seats in an ante-room of the
palace, and at once the flow of events engrosses us, —
conspiracies and imprisonments, insurrections and wars,
adultery, seduction and murder, the talk of courtiers,
gossip of women, banquets of the monarch, tempests
of passion, and the laments of the love-lorn. A few
hours, and kingdoms have trembled in the balance ; the
heroine has been proved guilty and innocent again ;
the murdered have come to life ; and the lover has been
ecstatic, jealous, frantic, implacable, forgiving, and
serene at last. Yet all is plausible enough in the brilliant
flow of the verse ; or if part of it is incredible, it all
passes on so rapidly that there is no time for doubt.
This land of romance is a land of thrills, and thrills
of many sorts. It is not_altogether given up to violence;
it has its idyls and sentiments. Near the palace is a
forest, where now and then after a tumultuous hour
we may retire to cool our harried senses, and where
the lovers wander to forget their misfortunes and by its
fountains weave their sighs into lyrical garlands. For
even in this realm love is often innocent and young.
Athwart the path of the murderous Evadne comes the
melancholy and tender Aspatia ; and amid the corrup-
tion of the court of Iberia there has grown the pure
devotion of a Bellario. Beaumont and Fletcher did
nothing by halves. If a man is a coward, he endures a
31nttoUuctton
thousand kicks ; if a woman sins, she multiplies adultery
by murder ; if a woman is pure and gentle, she finds
her sweetest pleasure in dying by the hand of the man
she loves. On their idyls they lavished all the graces of
their art. Their maidens suffer, serve, and weep, love,
forgive, and die in lines that somehow preserve the grace
of simplicity though they wear all the jewels of imagery
and allusion that the authors possess. The portraits of
these martyrs in love are far from life-like ; they belong
to the idyllic forest of the court-romance ; they seem
to be made in response to a challenge, — " Paint me
tenderness, sweetness, feminine perfection." Yet one
will not read the plays without falling now and again
under the charm of the lovely verses that tell of wo-
man's love — often indeed with fine dramatic insight,
with consummate fitness of language, and an imaginat-
ive ideality. Recall Bellario and Ordella facing death
for their beloved.
Bellario. Alas, my lord, my life is not a thing
Worthy your noble thoughts ! 'tis not a life,
'Tis but a piece of childhood thrown away.1
Ordella. 'Tis of all sleeps the sweetest ;
Children begin it to us, strong men seek it,
And kings from height of all their painted glories
Fall like spent exhalations to this centre :
And those are fools that fear it, or imagine,
A few unhandsome pleasures, or life's profits,
Can recompense this place ; and mad that stay it
Till age blow out their lights, or rotten humours
Bring them dispersed to earth.2
After all one rejoices that this Camel ot has its Astolat
and one regrets that the forests and fountains could not
1 Pbilaster, v, 2. * Thierry and Theodoret, iv, I.
3flntr0Duction
be kept sacred to true love and its lyrics. But the forest
is close to the palace, and the shouting and tumult are
carried from the one to the other. The various persons
introduce one another in long descriptions, and after an
introductory speech, the character remains fixed except
as the shifting situations demand some unexpected
change. There is no shading or subtlety in the char-
acterization, little discrimination or individuality in the
different representatives of their favorite types, who,
however, are not at all wanting in originality. The miles
gloriosus, for example, becomes in their hands a very
different person from Falstaff or Bobadill ; he displays
new resources of vanity and meets exposure with new
feats of audacity ; he is perfectly distinct and ingen-
iously comic, at least as a stage figure. So, too, the con-
ventional type of the querulous old man becomes a
source of fresh comedy in Calianax, and the old cap-
tain who leads the insurrection in Pbilaster is conceived
with audacious humor and abundant spirit. And if
our poets do not reveal the depths or complexities of
human nature, they have the power of rising to a situ-
ation and of expressing dramatic emotion. So their
type of evil woman acquires tremendous force in the
great scenes where Evadne plays her part, and their
type of female saintliness becomes human and sincere
in the white light of Ordella's devotion.
Moreover their men and women talk like real per-
sons. Dryden declared that they understood and imi-
tated the conversation of gentlemen much better than
Shakespeare, and in some respects this distinction is clear
enough to-day. The men of the early tragedies, by
xxx 3|ntrotiuction
Marlowe, Kyd, Marston, or Shakespeare, had spoken
a language elevated and removed from ordinary dis-
course. The bombastic vein finds repeated illustration
in Shakespeare's early plays ; as in the opening lines
of Henry PI, —
Hung be the heavens with black ! yield day to night ! etc.
Or of Richard III, —
Now is the winter of our discontent
Made glorious summer by this sun of York —
Nor did the effort for a declamatory and sententious
tragic style fail to leave an impression on the works of
his maturer genius. The very style of phrase that comes
from Coriolanusy Lear, or Othello removes the speakers
from the manners of the age and the habits of the audit-
ors. Coriolanus begins, —
Thanks. What 's the matter you disentious rogues,
That, rubbing the poor itch of your opinion,
Make yourselves scabs ?
And Othello, —
Let him do his spite :
My services which I have done the signiory
Shall out-tongue his complaints. 'Tis yet to know, —
Which, when I know that boasting is an honour,
I shall promulgate —
Compare these speeches with the opening words of
Melantius, and there can be no doubt that the phrases
of Beaumont and Fletcher have the advantage in natur-
alness. Or compare them with the opening boast of
the most ranting of their kings, Arbaces —
Thy sadness, brave Tigranes, takes away
From my full victory : am I become
Of so small fame, that any man should grieve
When I o'ercome him ?
^Introduction
The vaunt is melodramatic, but the language is keyed
to ordinary speech.
Such talk as this makes the thrilling events and the
exaggerated types of character seem plausible. The
method of Shakespeare is reversed. We accept his
land of romance, but it is far from the world of the day,
and we have a sense of being conveyed thither. So
the opening dialogue of Theseus and Hippolyta bears
us one stage from reality toward fairy-land, and the
opening lines of the Duke in Twelfth Nigbt prepare
us for an Illyria of sunshine, sentiment, and song. The
poetry of Beaumont and Fletcher, on the contrary,
does not carry us to romance, it brings romance to us.
We are introduced into a court, which despite the for-
eign names much resembles the court of James I; there
is some gossip or compliment among a few gentlemen,
and there is no elevation of language, the phrases are
not heavy with premonitions of disaster ; in compar-
ison with preceding Elizabethan tragedies, the diction
is natural, clear, and modern. The spectators at Black-
friars must have felt that they were viewing men and
women like themselves, and thereby have been inclined
to accept the marvels and horrors that followed. The
trick has since become common in romance ; a clever
young American invades a marvellous toy kingdom in
central Europe, foils conspiracies, marries the princess,
and accomplishes all sorts of upsets and escapes, — and
we accept everything as we read because the persons
appear and talk like acquaintances. Similarly a lack of
archaicism or remoteness in speech goes far to make
Beaumont and Fletcher's romances plausible.
3|ntronuctton
Perhaps the happiest result of their introduction of
a gentleman of 1610 into a romantic orgy is found in
the character of Melantius. Theatre-goers had been
long used to a central figure in tragedy, vehement,
ranting, eloquent, and passionate, with a part full of
violent action and sounding declamation ; as, Tambur-
laine, Hieronimo, Richard III, Othello, or Lear.
Melantius is of a different sort ; he does not tear a
passion to tatters in sounding polysyllables ; or go in-
sane ; or invoke earth and heaven and their mysteries
in his midnight meditations. He talks without infla-
tus, periphrasis, or aphorism, like a gentleman of the
day ; yet how he talks ! His gift of blunt, soldierly
conversation wins the keys of the castle from his bitter-
est enemy, wrings the secret of his sister's dishonor
from the wronged Amintor, and converts that sister
from a brazen sinner into a penitent martyr. The pro-
tagonist must still excel in talk, but his talk is different,
and his character as well. The protagonist is no
longer the creature of a mysterious fate, a self-revealing
villain, or a victim of his own overpowering passion,
but he is the beau ideal of the seventeenth century
gentleman, clever, daring, indomitable, never at a loss,
fastidious of honor, and above all a loyal and efficient
friend. His loyalty appeals to our sympathies less
deeply than Kent's and his avowals of friendship have
the taint of exaggeration, but perhaps the well-worn
stage type of the faithful friend has never been drawn
with greater distinctness and enthusiasm.
In the main, however, what existence the characters
have outside of the situations in which they are placed,
introduction
what reality they retain in our memories, is due to the
power of the verse to reflect clearly the emotions of the
moment. There is, as has been said, an absence of -j
that tragic inflatus made so effective in Marlowe, *
striven after by many imitators, and not wanting even
in Shakespeare's masterpieces. There is a notable ab- ;,
sence of the merely sonorous, the turgid declamation, *
the mouthing of strange words ; that sort of style is
ridiculed in Pharamond and Bessus. The style of the
romances is marked, too, by an absence of overcrowd-
ing thought, such as seems sometimes striven after in
Marston or Chapman, and such as sometimes makes
Shakespeare's lines a puzzle. Beaumont and Fletcher — '
have no emotions too fleeting or too profound for utter-
ance, no perplexing tangle of thought that defies ex-
pression in decasyllabics ; and they had no desire to
make their style sententious, weighty, philosophical.
They had no doubt about what they wanted to say,
and they said it clearly and rapidly. They had room
for ornament and rhetorical device but none for eccen-
tricity or obscurity. Dry den's remark that they per- ^
fected the English language deserves consideration as the
view of a century later, and can be appreciated to-day.
After the tragedies of Jonson, Marston, Marlowe,
Chapman, Webster, or Tourneur, one escapes with an
elation of temper to the unpuzzling verse of the Maid 's
Tragedy and Pbilaster. One misses with a sense of
joy the entanglement and doubt felt in the others, and
"often enough, too, in Shakespeare.
Such traits of style as have been noticed are common
to both men, and seem due — so far as they are con-
31tttro&uctiott
scious at all — to an effort to make dramatic style cor-
respond as nearly as possible to natural speech. This
seems particularly true of Fletcher, who is the more
revolutionary of the two in his innovations and the
more persistent in his mannerisms. His structure is
loose and conversational ; parentheses and colloquial-
isms abound ; and his blank verse breaks down the
barriers of the rigid pentameter and approaches the
irregular rhythm of prose. Added syllables are numer-
ous, and feminine endings usurp a large majority of the
lines. Beaumont differs from Fletcher in his use of
feminine endings and end-stopt lines, using far fewer
of either than Fletcher, but he too imitates the broken
and unpremeditated effect of ordinary speech and, like
Fletcher, avoids unusual words and obscure construc-
tions. In long speeches or in descriptive or lyrical
passages, the structure naturally becomes more periodic,
the rhythm more sustained, and the imagery more elab-
orate ; and it is in such passages that Beaumont is
often at his best. He is free, too, from the annoying
faults of Fletcher, who is careless and monotonous in
rhythm and structure. But both writers rise now and
then to an intensely imaginative phrase or a beautifully
wrought description, and the chief merit of their style
is its constant power to suit itself to the ever-shifting
action and emotion. The style of neither is suggestive of
the intricacies of human feeling or the splendor of hu-
man intellect, but the style of both, of Fletcher preemi-
nently, reveals a fertility of imagination and an astonish-
ing mobility of words. For what it attempts, it is sur-
prisingly competent. In its lyric moments, it sings ; in
^Introduction xxxv
the conversation of gentlemen, it is deft and rapid ; in
the crises of passion, thrilling ; in its idyls, melodious
and sweet ; and it is always copious and lucid.
It is these extraordinary merits of style that gave
Beaumont and Fletcher their seventeenth century reputa-
tion and have attracted readers in the generations since.
Ethical objections to their plays drove them finally from
the stage and continue to disturb readers to-day.
One ethical charge, fathered by Coleridge and often
repeated, calls for defence. Coleridge denounced them
as servile, divino j ure, royalists, and Professor Ward,
though he instances the climax of the Maid's Tragedy
to the contrary, declares that their sentiment of loyalty
" means the abandonment of the aspiration for freedom
as part of the sense of manhood ; — it is slavery drap-
ing itself with chivalrous dignity in the cloak of ' the
Emperor's loyal general.' ' A belief in divine right
may naturally have been acquired and possibly retained
by Beaumont and Fletcher as well as by most drama-
tists of the day. They certainly make use of the sanct-
ity of the king's person as a motive intelligible to their
audiences and of importance to the persons in the
drama ; but the " servility " and " slavery " are hardly
apparent. Both Phi/aster and the Maid's Tragedy,
Jiaving plots of the authors' invention, deaL_with suc-
cessful insurrections against royal power, and .in the
Maid 's Tragedy the leader of the insurrection induces \
his. sister to murder the king. When we recall that in !
1 60 1 actors were punished for performing Richard II
with the deposition of the king, and that the scene was
omitted from the first two editions of the play, and
^Introduction
when we recall that an alteration of the Maid1 s
Tragedy, omitting the murder of the king, was deemed
necessary in the reign of Charles II, the attitude of
Beaumont and Fletcher seems daring rather than ser-
vile. Still farther, they are no great respecters of
royal worth. Their monarchs are weak, corrupt, lust-
ful ; and the most vigorous of them all, Arbaces, is
not of royal birth and has no divine right. It has
been argued that Shakespeare was a democrat because
in opposition to current laudation of royalty he repre-
sented kings with the weaknesses and crimes of ordi-
nary men ; and if this argument be allowed weight,
Beaumont and Fletcher were democrats and revolution-
ists. Perhaps it is fairer to judge them as literary artists
and not as political theorists. Their tragedies, as all
Elizabethan tragedies, dealt with kings ; dealing with
kings, they naturally made divine right play an important
part ; they emphasized the sentiment of royal sanctity
in order to make royal weakness more effective dramat-
ically, — in order to make the assassination of a king
more theatrically sensational. They wrote as drama-
tists, described kings as both good and bad, but gener-
ally bad, and if necessary they murdered them without
pity.
Other ethical objections to their plays, however, are
less easily refuted. Beaumont and Fletcher depict love
of many kinds and they present its abnormal or sensa-
tional aspects with an outspokenness that is offensive to
modern refinement and reveals an absence of moral
taste on the part of the authors. In view of the char-
acter of the court of James I and the contemporary ex-
3|ntroOuction
posure of the career of Frances Howard, it must be
admitted that the dramatists represented faithfully the
loose manners and flagrant immorality of their age ;
but the representation is without apology or satire and
apparently without consciousness of its grossness. The
atmosphere is never quite pure. A model of feminine
purity may kiss and be kissed by the suitors she resists,
and an ideal of innocence join unabashed in jests that
to-day would be unpardonable. The themes of their
plays are hardly more sensational than those of many
recent novels, and their outspokenness might possibly
be defended in comparison with modern reticence and
suggestion, but it must be confessed that the whole
tone of their work is less pure and healthy than of any
dramatist preceding them, and that it opens the way
to the lewdness of the Restoration.
No one indeed will care to claim much credit for
Beaumont and Fletcher as moral teachers. Unlike some
of their contemporaries, they did not seek to discover
and chastise the follies and excesses of their time ; and
their conception of drama did not involve the study of
human motives in the light of moral law. They dealt
with themes that would please their audience and pat-
rons and would offer a sufficient range of emotions for
the exhibition of the authors' poetic powers. Of many
modern romanticists and sentimentalists little more can
be said ; like them, Beaumont and Fletcher were fond
of love and lovers and sought to present many varieties,
but their imaginations kept too frequent company with
the gross and unhealthy. With no distinct moral pur-
pose, without imaginations that touched spiritual heights
xxxviii ^Introduction
or penetrated to the real significance of moral conflict,
they entered unhesitatingly on the task of holding up
a mirror to a society loose in manners and unprincipled
in morals. They are not so much guilty of intentional
immorality as impotent to produce moral effect. But
something must be added on the other side. If their
imaginations run loose in a corrupt society, they also
seek at times the sweeter and the nobler aspects of life.
What won for their ethics high laudation from con-
temporary critics and may carry to us at least a partial
justification for their lapses, were their rhetorical and
dramatic adulation of innocence and purity, and, as it
seems to us, their more sincere and not less enthusiastic
exaltation of generosity, friendship, and devotion. The
critic of their ethics should not forget Melantius and
Ordella.
If little enlightenment for the moral perceptions
comes from reading their plays, there will surely be
astonishment and admiration for the triumphant flow of
verse, scene, and plot ; and by the historical student,
a recognition of the freshness and importance of their
art in its own day. In all the marvellous story of the
Elizabethan drama few chapters captivate the fancy
more delightfully than the one that tells of their pre-
cocious success. At the time when Jonson and Shake-
speare were at their best, these two striplings began.
The critical, humorous, and imaginative Beaumont and
the witty, irresponsible, and extraordinarily clever
Fletcher somehow harmonized their differences and
united their powers. They wrote plays as plays, poems
as poems, mindful of the courtly public, mindful of the
^Introduction xxxix
critics, heedless of the moralists. They were neither
psychologists nor preachers ; they did not harness philo-
sophy to the drama ; they had none of that high serious-
ness, which Matthew Arnold says is necessary to great
poetry and which has certainly spoiled a great deal of
poetry,. Their view of life was that of the wits, gal-
lants, and poets of the Mermaid tavern. To be generous,
courtly, loyal in friendship, was enough of a creed ; their
aspiration was artistic rather than ethical, — "to put
their whole wit in a jest,'* their whole genius in a play.
Their genius to be sure has sometimes the appearance of
sowing its wild oats ; but with the faults of youth, it
has some of the virtues. If it has no power to widen
the reader's horizon, to stimulate a finer and kindlier
interest in life, or to purify the passions through a re-
velation of their torments, it has certainly the power to
excite, fascinate, thrill, and delight us. If their presen-
tation of life lacks a sustained suggestiveness of reality,
that is a fault of immaturity ; if their poetry responds
to every challenge of their subject, that is the triumph
of prodigal genius.
Let us not emphasize unduly their spontaneity and
cleverness at the expense of their artistic endeavor.
They were artists coming late in a great creative period,
aware of the greatness of what had preceded and also
of its irregularities and excesses. They used the dra-
matic form with copious invention and an unrivalled
perception of dramatic possibilities in story or scene.
They added new types of plays and they developed
these with the zest and freedom of genius and the care
of constructive artists. They subdued their ingenuity
xl 3|ntroDuction
to the requirements of the stage and they made their
blank verse a pellucid mirror of the situations and emo-
tions that they conceived.
After all, the plays of their collaboration are the ex-
periments of men in their twenties. Perhaps, if Beau-
mont had lived, their brotherly cooperation would have
resulted in maturer and nobler achievement. As it is,
their plays, with their excitement and surprises, their
heroisms and their wit, disclose an imagination that can
often pierce to the heart of a passion or reveal anew
the beauty of language ; and they bring before us an
age with manners and morals far removed from our
own, an age brutal, passionate, unreserved, quick and
indiscriminate in its emotions, but an age still cherishing
its ideals of magnanimity and its dreams of idyllic love
and courageous friendship.
THE AUTHORSHIP OF THE MAID'S TRAGEDY
AND PHILASTER
The division of the plays of Beaumont and Fletcher
between the two authors has been much discussed, and
substantial agreement in regard to their respective shares
has been reached through the application of verse-tests by
Mr. Fleay, Mr. Boyle, and Mr. Oliphant. x The verse of
XF. G. Fleay: Transactions N. S. S., 1874; Chronicle of
the English Drama, 1891.
R. Boyle : Englische Studien, v, vn, vm, ix, x ; Trans.
N. S. 5., 1886.
E. F. Oliphant : Englische Studien, xiv, xv, xvi.
See also Francis Beaumont, a critical study, G. C. Macaulay,
^Introduction xli
Fletcher has certain marked traits that render it easily
recognizable, for instance, a large proportion of feminine
endings, often 60 to 70%, and a small proportion of
run-over lines, i o to zo % ; Beaumont's verse has a small
proportion of feminine endings, 10 to 15 %, and a larger
proportion (about 25 <?£,) of run-over lines than Fletcher's.
The verse of Fletcher, in plays of which he was the sole
author, exhibits these percentages with constancy $ for
Beaumont's verse we have a less certain criterion since
we have no external evidence that any play was the re-
sult of his unaided effort. The metrical tests, however,
furnish in a large number of scenes a certain means for
distinguishing the work of the two authors. When, for
example, every 20 lines of a scene have a majority of
double endings, the scene is Fletcher's 5 when every
20 lines have but two or three feminine endings, the
scene is certainly not Fletcher's but Beaumont's.
Some difficulties, however, counsel caution. The
verse-tests are applicable when the collaboration is after
the usual Elizabethan manner, each author taking certain
scenes or divisions of the play and writing these with
little or no intervention from his collaborator ; but if
two writers worked in more intimate cooperation on a
scene, verse-tests might fail to indicate their shares.
Again, many passages evidently written as verse are
printed as prose in the early editions, and the division
into verse is the work of modern editors ; and other pass-
ages that are still printed as prose seem likely to have
been written as verse. Prose passages and songs offer no
1883, London, and the article on Fletcher by A. H. Bullen in
the Diet. Nat. Biog.
For detailed treatment of the verse-tests for Beaumont and
Fletcher, see the volumes of the Belles Lettrcs Series dealing with
each dramatist.
xlii Jlntrolmction
opportunity for verse-tests j and although prose is usually
assigned to Beaumont, such assignment rests mainly on
the fact that there is almost no prose in plays by Fletcher
alone. In the case of the two plays in this book, there
are some further considerations. There are few places
where the percentage of double endings runs as high as in
Fletcher's later or even in his other early plays, as, for
example, the last two of the Four Plays in One. On the
other hand, in the scenes usually assigned to Beaumont the
percentage of feminine endings occasionally exceeds his
average. There is always the possibility that Fletcher
discarded for a time his mannerisms, as he did in the
Faithful Shepherdess, which differs entirely in versification
from the rest of his plays ; and one may suspect him of
attuning himself more closely to Beaumont in these two
plays than elsewhere. But in view of all these considera-
tions, the fact that the verse-tests reveal decisive and con-
sistent differences goes far to establish their reliability.
In the case of the Maid""* Tragedy, critics are practically
agreed, and a careful application of verse-tests by the
present editor suggests little amendment. To Fletcher
may be assigned : ii, 2 j iv, i ; v, i, 2 (i. e. i, 2, 3,
as printed in other editions). The close of v, i, after the
exit of Evadne, is given by Fleay and Oliphant to Beau-
mont, and the metrical characteristics are certainly not
Fletcher's. Act i, scene 2, contains some prose and the
masque, and cannot be assigned by verse-tests. The re-
mainder of the play — i, ij ii, i; iii, i, 2; iv, 2; v, 3
(4, in other editions) — is given by all critics to Beau-
mont, and contains no trace of Fletcher, except possibly
in i, i.
Philaster offers a more difficult problem. About one
fourth of the play is in prose, the assignment of which is
precarious 5 and several of the verse-scenes exhibit some
^Introduction xiiii
of the qualities of both poets and a percentage of double
endings too small for Fletcher and too large for Beau-
mont. Their contributions cannot always be distinctly
separated. Evidence of Fletcher's hand seems apparent to
the present editor in — i, ib (after entry of king) ; ii, 2
(mostly prose) ; ii, 4b (from reentry of Dion) ; iii, 2
(traces, passim) $ v, 3, 4. This assignment agrees with
that made by Oliphant ; Fleay gives Fletcher all of act i,
scene i, and v, 3, 45 Boyle, only v, 3, 4. The following
scenes are wholly or largely prose, and their assignment
to Beaumont by the critics rests on no very conclusive
evidence — i, la (to entry of king) ; iv, i; v, i. The
remainder of the play is assigned to Beaumont by all
critics — i, 25 ii, i, 3, 43 (to reentry of Dion) 5 iii, i, a
(in part); iv, 2, 3, 4 ; v, 2, 5.
The separation of the verse of the two authors by no
means determines the exact share of each in the total cre-
ative work. Who invented ? who suggested ? and who
corrected ? are questions that even they themselves
might have found it difficult to answer. In Philaster, one
of the earliest of the joint plays, there are indications
that the two poets worked on the same scenes in a way
that baffles exact analysis to-day j but here Fletcher's
share seems subsidiary and supplementary. He wrote at
least a part of the first scene, contributed parts of the
Megra-Pharamond story, and the lively account of the
insurrection, but had little to do with the development
of the main action or with the most important situations ;
none of the scenes indeed seem absolutely free from
Beaumont's hand. In the Maid ^s Tragedy, the collabor-
ation was more distinct ; and there, though Beaumont's
share is much the larger, Fletcher' s scenes are among the
most important in the play and present Aspatia, Evadne,
and Philaster in some of their most characteristic mo-
xliv 31ntrotmetion
ments. In these two plays and in the other heroic ro-
mances Beaumont's share seems predominant, and from
these plays, together with the Knight of the Burning
Pestle, we draw most of our inferences in respect to the
qualities of his genius. The two friends, however, har-
monized their sentiments, modes of thought, and inter-
pretations of character better than their methods of versi-
fication j and any attempts to restrict a particular mental
attitude to the one is likely to be frustrated by its appear-
ance in verse unmistakably by the other. Each doubtless
deserves, what each has long received, a share in the
credit for the plot, situations, characters, style, and senti-
ments of Philaster and the Maid's Tragedy.
TEXT
The first quarto, 1619, presents an abbreviated, mangled, and evi-
dently unauthorized text. The second quarto, 1622, " Newly pe-
rused, augmented and inlarged," is much less corrupt, but contains
some verbal alterations that are not improvements on Qi. The
third quarto, 1630, presents for the first time the names of the au-
thors and the " Censure " of the stationer, Richard Hawkins. A
few of its corrections have been approved by modern editors. Four
other quartos, in the main agreeing with Q3, were published before
1679, when the play was included in the Second Folio, reprinted
apparently from Q6. No edition, it will be noted, was printed during
Beaumont's lifetime : none for some ten years after the play was
written, circa 1 609 ; and apparently none received any direct re-
vision from either author, though Qz undoubtedly is the best au-
thority. Under these circumstances an edition of the play must be
eclectic, based on the first three quartos, and availing itself of correc-
tions in the later quartos and folio and in the editions of modern ed-
itors, Theobald (Th), Weber (W), Dyce (D), and Daniel in the
recent variorum edition under the general supervision of Mr. A. H.
Bullen (B).
The present edition follows Q2, but frequently readings from Qi
have been adopted, and all variants that have any claim to recog-
nition have been given in the notes, especially those of Qi and Q%.
The variants of Leonhardt and of Daniel have been compared with
the original editions, and a number of minor corrections have been
made in their records of the quartos. The variants of the later
quartos, the folio, and the modern editors are recorded only when
of importance to the text ; in the case of accepted emendations,
usually only the name of the editor responsible has been given, but
the variants of Dyce and Daniel from the present text are specific-
ally noted. The arrangement of the verse lines is based on Dyce.
The quartos are here very uncertain guides, but important devia-
tions from Q2, D, or B, are recorded in the notes. In accord with
the practice of the Belles-Lettres Series, the spelling of Q2 has been
xlvi
kept, all additions to its text or stage-directions are enclosed in
brackets, and all variations from the letter of that edition except
obvious misprints are noted. The punctuation and capitalization have
been modernized, but the old punctuation has been retained when
possible, and the old abbreviations, involving apostrophes, have
been preserved. The past participles in -ed, -'d, -t, have also been
retained as in Qa, even when a different pronunciation of the final
syllable is rendered necessary by the versification. Any stage-direc-
tions which seem in the early editions to have been placed merely
where the length of the lines permit, have been placed where the
indicated actions should occur, with a note among the variants on
the original position. Aside, often printed at the end of a line or
speech, is uniformly placed before its line or speech. Explanation of
the abbreviations used in referring to the various editions will be found
in the Bibliography.
The Maids Tragedie.
AS IT HATH BEENE
diuers times Aded at the 'Slack-Friers by
the Kings Maieflies Seruants.
Newly perufcd, augmented, and inlarged, This fecond Impreffion.
LONDON,
Printed for Francis Conftable, and are
to be fold at the White L i o N in
Church-yard. 1611.
SOURCES
There is nothing to add to Dyce's statement in his collective
edition that ( ' the source from which the incidents of this drama
were derived, has not been discovered." He noted a resemblance
between Aspatia's duel with Amintor and the combat between
Parthenia and Amphialus in the third book of Sidney's Arcadia.
The quarrel of Melantius and Amintor in Act in owes something
to that of Brutus and Cassius in Julius Caesar. The character and
story of Aspatia are to some extent paralleled by those of Bellario in
Philaster and Urania in Cupid's Revenge ; and other parallelisms in
characters and situations can be traced with the other romances of
Beaumont and Fletcher.
SPEAKERS.
KING. *
LISIPPUS, bjother to the KING.
AMINTOR, [a noble Gentleman.]
EVADNE, wife to AMINTOR.
Di^HiL™8' ( br°thers to EVADNE-
ASPATIA, troth-plight wife to AMINTOR. ' '
CA'LLIANAX, an old humorous Lord, and father to ASPATIA.
DjA, a Lady
NIGHT, \
ClNTHIA, I
NEPTUNE, f
EOLUS, J
DIAGORAS, a ser/ant.
vraiting Gentlewomen to ASPATIA.
vr,Bi,-r.
Maskers-
[Sea Gods, Winds,
Lords, Gentlemen, Servants, &c.
} SCENE, RHODES.]
[THE STATIONERS CENSURE.
Good wjne requires no bush, they say,
And 7, no prologue such a play :
The makers therefore did forebeare
To have that grace prefixed here.
But cease here, Censure, least the buyer
Hold thee in this a vaine supplyer.
My office is to set it forth,
Where fame applauds its reale worth.]
a noble Gentleman. Added in Q j.
Sea Gods . . . Rhodes. Supplied by modern editors.
Censure. The lines, not in Qi and Qa, are in QJ-Q6 printed after the
Dramatis Pcrsonae.
ACTUS I. SCAEN I.
\An Apartment in the PalaceJ\
Enter Cleon, Strata, Lisippus, Dipbilus.
Clean. The rest are making ready, sir.
Lysippus. So let them ; theres time enough.
Diphilus. You are the brother to the King,
my lord ;
Weele take your word.
Lys. Strato, thou hast some skill in poetrie;
What think'st fthou] of the mask ? will it be
well ?
Strato. As well as masks can be.
Lys. As masks can be !
Stra. Yes ; they must commend their king,
& speake in praise
Of the assembly, blesse the bride and bride-
groome
In person of some god : they'r tied to rules
Of flatterie.
Cle. See, good my lord, who is returned !
2 Lysippus, Qi. Q2-F, Stra.
6 tbou, Qi. the mask. Qq, F, a mask, corrected by Seward.
Qfyt spaces tErage&E [ACT i
Enter Me Ian tins.
Lys. Noble Melantius, the land by me
Welcomes thy vertues home to Rhodes ;
Thou that with blood abroad buyest our peace !
The breath of kings is like the breath of gods; 15
My brother wisht thee here, and thou art here ;
He will be too kind, and wearie thee
With often welcomes ; but the time doth give
thee
A welcome above his or all the worlds.
Melantius. My lord, my thankes ; but these
scratcht limbes of mine 20
Have spoke my love and truth unto my friends
More then my tongue ere could. My mind's
the same
It ever was to you ; where I finde worth,
I love the keeper till he let it goe,
And then I follow it.
Diph. Haile, worthy brother; 25
He that rejoyces not at your returne
In safety is mine enemie forever.
Mel. I thanke thee, Diphilus. But thou art
faultie ;
I sent for thee to exercise thine armes
13 to Rhodes. Qi and B omit.
17 be too kind. Qi, be kind. B, be too-too kind.
23 It. The scene from the beginning through this word is
printed as prose in Qq an^ F. It continues as prose through 1. 24
in Q6 and F.
SCENE I.]
With me at Patria ; thou cam'st not, Diphilus ; 30
Twas ill.
Diph. My noble brother, my excuse
Is my king's strict command, which you, my
lord,
Can witnesse with me.
Lys. Tis [most] true, Melantius ;
He might not come till the solemnities
Of this great match were past.
Diph. Have you heard of it ? 35
Mel. Yes, and have given cause to those
that here
Envy my deeds abroad to call me gamesome.
I have no other businesse heere at Rhodes.
Lys. We have a maske to-night, and you
must tread
A souldiers measure. 4°
Mel. These soft and silken wars are not for
me ;
The musicke must be shrill and all confus'd
That stirres my bloud ; and then I dance with
armes.
But is Amintor wed ?
Diph. This day.
32 strict. Qi, straight.
33 most, Qi. Omitted in Qz et al.
34 solemnities, Qj. Solemnitie in other Qq and F.
36 Tes . . . here. So in Qi. Qz, Yes I have given cause to
those that.
Qfyt spaces! ®rage&£ [ACT i.
Mel. All joyes upon him ! for he is my
friend. 45
Wonder not that I call a man so young my
friend :
His worth is great ; valiant he is and temperate ;
And one that never thinkes his life his owne,
If his friend neede it. When he was a boy,
As oft as I returned (as, without boast, 50
I brought home conquest), he would gaze upon
me
And view me round, to finde in what one limbe
The vertue lay to doe these things he heard ;
Then would he wish to see my sword, and feele
The quicknesse of the edge, and in his hand 55
Weigh it : he oft would make me smile at this.
His youth did promise much, and his ripe yeares
Will see it all performd.
Enter Aspatia, passing by.
Haile, maid and wife !
Thou faire Aspatia, may the holy knot,
That thou hast tied to-day, last till the hand 60
Of age undoe't ! mayst thou bring a race
Unto Amintor, that may fill the world
Successively with souldiers !
Aspatia. My hard fortunes
Deserve not scorne, for I was never proud
When they were good. Exit Aspatia.
Enter . . . by. Qi, Enter Aspatia passing with attendance.
SCENE I.]
Mel. Howes this ?
Lys. You are mistaken, sir ; 65
She is not married.
Mel. You said Amintor was.
Diph. Tis true ; but —
Mel. Pardon me; I did receive
Letters at Patria from my Amintor,
That he should marrie her.
Diph. And so it stood
In all opinion long ; but your arrivall 70
Made me imagine you had heard the change.
Mel. Who hath he taken then ?
Lys. A ladie, sir,
That beares the light above her, and strikes dead
With flashes of her eye ; the faire Evadne,
Your vertuous sister.
Mel. Peace of heart betwixt them ! 75
But this is strange.
Lys. The King, my brother, did it
To honor you, and these solemnities
Are at his charge.
Mel. Tis royall like himselfe. But I am sad,
My speech beares so unfortunate a sound 80
To beautifull Aspatia. There is rage
Hid in her fathers breast, Calianax,
Bent long against me ; and he should not thinke,
6 5 sir> Qi- Q2> for.
73 above. Qi,abouej Q2, about. See note.
8 Ww spaces ®rage&p [ACT L
If I could call it backe, that I would take
So base revenges as to scorne the state 85
Of his neglected daughter. Holds he still
His greatnesse with the King?
Lys. Yes. But this lady
Walkes discontented, with her watrie eies
Bent on the earth. The unfrequented woods
Are her delight ; where, when she sees a bancke 90
Stucke full of flowers, shee with a sigh will tell
Her servants what a prittie place it were
To burie lovers in ; and make her maids
Pluck 'em and strow her over like a corse.
She carries with her an infectious griefe 95
That strikes all her beholders. She will sing
The mournfulst things that ever eare hath heard,
And sigh, and sing againe ; and when the rest
Of our young ladyes, in their wanton bioud,
Tell mirthfull tales in course, that fill the roomeioo
With laughter, she will with so sad a looke
Bring forth the story of the silent death
Of some forsaken virgin, which her griefe
Will put in such a phrase that, ere she end,
Shee'le send them weeping one by one away. 105
Mel. She has a brother under my command,
Like her, a face as womanish as hers,
But with a spirit that hath much outgrowne
The number of his yeares.
84 If I could. Qi , B, Could I but. 90 ivAere, Qi . Qa-F, and.
SCENE I.]
Enter Amintor.
Gle. My lord the bridegroome 1
Mel. I might runne fiercely, not more
hastily, no
Upon my foe. I love thee well, Amintor;
My mouth is much too narrow for my heart ;
I joy to looke upon those eies of thine;
Thou art my friend, but my disordered speech
Cuts off* my love.
Amintor. Thou art Melantius; 115
All love is spoke in that. A sacrifice,
To thanke the gods Melantius is returned
In safety ! Victory sits on his sword
As she was wont. May she build there and
dwell;
And may thy armour be, as it hath beene, 120
Only thy valor and thine innocence !
What endlesse treasures would our enemies give
That I might hold thee still thus !
Mel. I am poore
In words ; but credit me, young man, thy mother
Could [do] no more but weep for joy to see thee 1*5
After long absence. All the wounds I have,
Fetcht not so much away, nor all the cries
Of widowed mothers. But this is peace,
And that was warre.
109 My lord the. Th, D, comma after lord, no fiercely.
Coleridge, more fiercely. 123-125 That . . . tbee. So arranged
by Th. Qq and F end lines with thus . . . man . . . tbee.
125 do. Only in Qi. 126 have. B, gave.
io f&ty spaces t^rageu^ [ACT i.
Amin. Pardon, thou holy god
Of mariage-bed, and frowne not; I am forc'd, 130
In answer of such noble teares as those,
To weepe upon my wedding-day !
Mel. I feare thou art growne too fickle, for I
heare
A lady mournes for thee, men say, to death,
Forsaken of thee, on what termes I know not. 135
Amin. She had my promise; but the King
forbade it,
And made me make this worthy change, thy
sister,
Accompanied with graces [far] above her,
With whom I long to lose my lusty youth
And grow old in her armes.
Mel. Be prosperous ! 14°
Enter Messenger.
Messenger. My lord, the maskers rage for you.
Lys. We are gone. —
Cleon, Strato, Diphilus !
Amin. Weele all attend you. —
[Exeunt Lysippus, Cleon , Strato, Dipbilus,
and Messenger. ~\
We shall trouble you
With our solemnities.
131 those. Q I, these. 133 fickle. Qi, cruell ; Q3-F, sicke.
138 far above, Th. Qi, Qz, about ; £3, above.
141 Messenger. Qi, Amint. Qz to F, Serv.
Exeunt . . . Messenger. This stage-direction is found only in
Qi, which omits and Messenger.
SCENE II.] f&ty tyW*t$ f&W%tty 1 1
Mel. Not so, Amintor ;
But if you laugh at my rude cariage 145
In peace, I'll do as much for you in warre,
When you come thither. But I have a mistresse
To bring to your delights ; rough though I am,
I have a mistresse, and she has a heart,
She saies ; but, trust me, it is stone, no better; 150
There is no place that I can challenge in't.
But you stand still, and here my way lies.
Exeunt.
[SCENE II. A Hall in the Palace, with a Gallery
full of Spectators. ]
Enter Calianax with Diagoras.
Calianax. Diagoras, looke to the doores bet-
ter, for shame ! you let in all the world, and
anone the King will raile at me. Why, very
well said. By Jove, the King will have the
show i' th' court. 5
Diagoras. Why doe you sweare so, my lord ?
you know heele have it heere.
Cal. By this light, if he be wise, he will not.
Dlag. And if he will not be wise, you are
forsworne. 10
Cal. One may weare his heart out with
151 H»V, Qj to F. Qi, challenge gentlemen. Qz omits.
Exeunt. Qa, Exit. 5 /" th\ Qz misprints i' th the.
1 1 may iveare his heart out, so F 5 Qa, may sweare out his heart j
Qi, must sweat out his heart.
12 Wsyt $paj>&e0 (Etage&p [ACT i.
swearing, and get thankes on no side. He be
gone, look too't who will.
Diag. My lord, I shall never keepe them out.
Pray stay ; your lookes will terrific them. i,
Cat. My looks terrific them, you coxcombly
asse, you ! He be judge [d] by all the company
whether thou hast not a worse face then I.
Diag. I meane because they know you and
your office. ao
Cal. Office ! I would I could put it off! I am
sure I sweat quite through my office. I might
have made roome at my daughters wedding ; —
they ha nere kild her amongst them, and now
I must doe service for him that hath forsaken 25
her. Serve that will ! Exit Calianax.
Diag. Hee's so humorous since his daughter
was forsaken! (Knocke within.) Harke, harke !
there, there ! so, so ! codes, codes ! What now.
Melantius (within). Open the doore. 30
Diag. Who's there ?
Mel. [within]. Melantius.
Diag. I hope your lordship brings no troope
with you ; for, if you doe, I must returne them.
[Opens the door."]
Enter Melantius and a Lady.
Mel. None but this lady, sir. 35
Diag. The ladies are all plac'd above, save
17 judged, Q4 et al. Q2, £3, judge. Ql, iudgde. 28 Knocke
within, 30 'within. Qq, F, print after 1. 29, ivithin Knocke ivithin.
13
those that come in the Kings troope ; the best
of Rhodes sit there, and theres roome.
Mel. I thanke you, sir. — When I have scene
you placed, madam, I must attend the King; 40
but the maske done, He waite on you againe.
Diag. \_opening another door~\. Stand backe
there! Roome for my lord Melantius ! \ExitMe-
lantius^ Lady, other doore.~\ — Pray beare backe —
this is no place for such youth and their truls — let 45
the dores shut agen. — No ! — do your heads itch ?
He scratch them for you. [Shuts the door.~\ —
So, now thrust and hang. [Knocking within^ —
Againe ! Who is't now ? — I cannot blame my
Lord Calianax for going away. Would he were 5°
here ! he would run raging amongst them and
breake a dozen wiser heads than his own in the
twinckling of an eie. — Whats the newes now ?
\_foice~\ within. I pray you, can you helpe
mee to the speech of the master-cooke ? 55
Diag. If I open the dore, He cooke some of
your calves-heads. Peace rogues! \_Knockingwith-
in.~] — Againe! who is't ?
Mel. (within). Melantius.
Enter Calianax, to Melantius.
Cal. Let him not in. 6o
43 Exit . . . doore. Only in Ql, which places the exit after 1. 41.
46 No, Qi. Qz et al, , I. 52 'wiser. Qi omits.
59 ivitbin. After Melantius in Qq.
[ACT i.
Diag. O, my lord, a must. [Opening the door.~\
— Make roome there for my lord. — Is your
lady plac't ?
[Enter Melantius."^
Mel. Yes, sir.
I thanke you. — My Lord Calianax, well met. 65
Your causelesse hate to me I hope is buried.
Cal. Yes, I doe service for your sister here,
That brings mine owne poore child to timelesse
death ; >•
She loves your friend Amintor ; such another
False-hearted lord as you.
MeL You doe me wrong, 70
A most unmanly one, and I am slow
Jn taking vengeance ; but be well advis'd.
Cal. It may be so. Who plac'd the lady there
So neere the presence of the King ?
Mel. I did.
Cal. My lord, she must not sit there.
Mel. Why? 75
Cal. The place is kept for women of more
worth.
Mel. More worth than she ! It misbecomes
your age
And place to be thus womanish : forbeare !
What you have spoke, I am content to thinke
The palsey shooke your tongue to.
Enter Melantius. Only in Ql.
SCENE II.] {frfy ^3^00 tErageD£ 15
Cal. Why, tis well, 80
If I stand here to place mens wenches.
Mel. I
Shall [quite] forget this place, thy age, my
safety,
And, through all, cut that poor sickly weeke
Thou hast to live away from thee.
Cal. Nay, I know you can fight for your
whore. 85
Mel. Bate [me] the King, and, be hee flesh
and blood,
A lies that says it ! Thy mother at fifteene
Was blacke and sinfull to her.
Diag. Good my lord —
Mel. Some god pluck threescore yeeres from
that fond man,
That I may kill him, and not staine mine honor ! 90
It is the curse of souldiers, that in peace
They shall be braved by such ignoble men,
As, if tlie land were troubled, would with teares
And knees beg succor from 'em. Would that
blood,
That sea of blood, that I have lost in fight, 95
Were running in thy veines, that it might make
thee
Apt to say lesse, or able to maintaine,
82 quite. Only in Q i. 83 through. Theobald, thorough.
86 me. Only in Qi. 94 that. Qi, D, B, the.
1 6 Wqt pastes ®rage&E [ACT i.
Should'st thou say more ! This Rhodes, I see, is
nought
But a place priviledg'd to do men wrong.
CaL I, you may say your pleasure. i°°
Enter Amintor.
Amintor. What vilde injurie
Has sturd my worthy friend, who is as slow
To fight with words as he is quick of hand ?
Mel. That heape of age, which I should rev-
erence
If it were temperate, but testie yeeres 105
Are most contemptible.
Amin. Good sir, forbeare.
CaL There is just such another as yourselfe.
Amin. He will wrong you, or me, or any
man,
And talke as if he had no life to lose,
Since this our match. The King is comming in ; no
I would not for more wealth than I enjoy
He should perceive you raging ; he did heare
You were at difference now, which hastned him.
Hoboyes play within.
CaL Make roome there !
Enter King, Evadne, Aspatia, Lords and Ladies.
King. Melantius, thou art welcome, and my
love 115
Is with thee still ; but this is not a place
To brabble in. — Calianax, joyne hands.
103 hand. Qi, B, hands.
XL]
Cal. Hee shall not have mine hand.
King. This is no time
To force you too't. I do love you both : —
Calianax, you looke well to your office ; — 120
And you, Melantius, are welcome home. —
Begin the maske.
Mel. Sister, I joy to see you and your choyse.
You lookt with my eies when you tooke that
man ;
Be happy in him ! Recorders.
Evadne. O, my deerest brother, 1x5
Your presence is more joyful then this day
Can be unto me.
THE MASKE
Night rises in mists.
Night. Our reigne is come ; for in the raging sea
The sun is drownd, and with him fell the Day.
Bright Cinthia, heare my voice ! I am the Night, 1 30
For whom thou bearst about thy borrowed light.
Appeare ! no longer thy pale visage shrowde,
But strike thy silver homes quite through a cloud,
And send a beame upon my swarthie face,
By which I may discover all the place 1 3 5
And persons, and how many longing eies
Are come to waite on our solemnities.
Enter Cynthia.
How dull and blacke am I ! I could not finde
This beautie without thee, I am so blinde.
128 raging. Qi, quenching.
1 8 (Eljr spaces ®rageu^ [ACT i.
Methinkes they shew like to those easterne streakes, 140
That warne us hence before the morning breakes.
Back, my pale servant! for these eies know how
To shoote farre more and quicker rayes then thou.
Cynthia. Great queen, they be a troope for whom alone
One of my clearest moones I have put on j 145
A troope that lookes as if thyselfe and I
Had pluckt our reines in and our whips laid by,
To gaze upon these mortals, that appeare
Brighter than we.
Night. Then let us keepe 'em here,
And never more our chariots drive away, 150
But hold our places and outshine the Day.
Cynth. Great queene of shaddowes, you are pleasde to
speake
Of more then may be done j we may not breake
The gods decrees j but, when our time is come,
Must drive away, and give the Day our roome. 155
Yet, whilst our raigne lasts, let us stretch our power
To give our servants one contented houre,
With such unwonted solemne grace and state,
As may for ever after force them hate
Our brothers glorious beames, and wish the Night, 160
Crown' d with a thousand starres and our cold light j
For almost all the world their service bend
To Phoebus, and in vaine my light I lend,
Gaz'd on unto my setting from my rise
Almost of none but of unquiet eyes. 165
Night. Then shine at full, faire queene, & by thy
power
Produce a birth, to crowne this happy houre,
151 hold. So F and Qq, except Qa, which misprints, keepe.
156 ivhiht. Qa, whil'st. Qi omits lines 156-165.
1 60 wwA, Q3-F. Qz, with.
SCENE II.] t $&£&£$ m%tty 1 9
Of nymphes and shepheards ; let their songs discover,
Easie and sweete, who is a happy lover 5
Or, if thou woo't, then call thine owne Endimion 170
From the sweete flowrie bed he lies upon,
On Latmus' top, thy pale beames drawne away,
And of his long night let him make a day.
Cynth. Thou dreamst, darke queene ; that faire boy
was not mine,
Nor went I downe to kisse him. Ease and wine i?5
Have bred these bold tales ; poets, when they rage,
Turne gods to men, and make an houre an age.
But I will give a greater state and glory,
And raise to time a noble [r] memory
Of what these lovers are. — Rise, rise, I say, 180
Thou power of deepes, thy surges laid away,
Neptune, great king of waters, and by me
Be proud to be commanded !
Neptune rises.
Neptune. Cinthia, see,
Thy word hath fetcht me hither j let me know
Why I ascend.
Cynth. Doth this majesticke show 185
Give thee no knowledge yet ?
Nep. Yes, now I see
Something entended, Cinthia, worthy thee.
Go on ; He be a helper.
Cynth. Hie thee, then,
And charge the Winde flie from his rockie den,
170 ivoo^t. Qz, w'oo't. then call. Qi, B, omit.
171 bed. Qi, banck. 172 top. Qi, B, brow.
173 And of bis ... a day, so D. Qz, this long night . .
this day ; Qi, his ... thy ; £3, this ... a.
179 nobler, so Qi.
i«9 A Q3-F- Qi, Qa, goe.
20 t&ty $We$ tCrage&E [ACT i.
Let loose his subjects ; onely Boreas, 190
Too foule for our intentions as he was,
Still keep him fast chaind : we must have none here
But vernall blasts and gentle winds appeare,
Such as blow flowers and through the glad bowes sing
Many soft welcomes to the lusty spring ; 195
These are our musicke. Next, thy watrie race
Bring on in couples (we are pleasd to grace
This noble night), each in their richest things
Your owne deepes or the broken vessell brings.
Be prodigall, and I shall be as kind 2
And shine at full upon you.
Nep. Oh, the Wind !
Commanding Eolus !
Enter Eolus out of a Rocke.
JEolus. Great Neptune !
Kept. He.
j£ol. What is thy will ?
Nep. We doe command thee, free
Favonius and thy milder winds to waite
Upon our Cinthia ; but tie Boreas straight, 205
Hee's too rebellious.
jEol. I shall doe it.
Nep. Doe. [Exit &olus.~\
[/Eolus, within. ~] Great master of the floud and all
below,
190 his, Qi. £2, thy.
196-97 These . . . couples. Qi reads:
Bid them draw neere to have thy watrie race
Led on in couples, we are pleas'd to grace
See Notes for proposed emendations.
201 Oh. Qi, See; £3, Hoe. Wind I So Dyce. Theo,
W, and B insert a hyphen after wind; no punctuation in Qq, F.
204 Favonius. Q2, Fanonius.
207-08 Great ... 0, the. This arrangement of the text is due to
Theobald. In Qi, Q2, bolus's speech begins with, 0, the Maine .'
SCENE II.] Qfyt tytybtti Klge&P 21
Thy full command has taken. — O, the Maine!
Neptune !
Nep. Heere.
[Re-enter jEolus, followed by Fa<voniusand other WmdsJ\
JEoL Boreas has broke his chaine
And, strugling with the rest, has got away. 210
Nep. Let him alone j He take him up at sea }
He will not long be thence. Goe once againe,
And call out of the bottomes of the maine
Blew Proteus and the rest j charge them put on
Their greatest pearles, and the most sparkling stone 215
The beaten rocke breeds j tell this night is done
By me a solemne honor to the Moone.
Flie, like a full saile.
&ol. I am gone. [Exit."]
Cyntb. Darke Night,
Strike a full silence, doe a thorow right
To this great chorus, that our musicke may 220
Touch high as Heaven, and make the east breake day
At midnight. Musicke.
[FIRST] SONG.
[During 'which Proteus and other Sea-deities enter.]
Cinthia, to thy power and thee
We obey.
Joy to this great company! 225
And no day
Come to steale this night away,
Till the rites of love are ended,
And the lusty bridegroome say,
Welcome, light, of all befriended! 230
212 He. Qi, D, B, I.
216 <«//, Mason, D. Qq, F, till.
22 $t ^ap&es {Erage&E [ACT i.
Pace out, you watery powers below j
Let your feete,
Like the gallies when they row,
Even beate.
Let your unknowne measures, set 235
To the still windes, tell to all,
That gods are come, immortall, great,
To honor this great nuptiall.
The Measure.
SECOND SONG.
Hold backe thy houres, darke Night, till we have done :
The day will come too soone : 240
Young maydes will curse thee, if thou steal' st away
And leav'st their losses open to the day :
Stay, stay and hide
The blushes of the bride.
Stay, gentle Night, and with thy darknesse cover 245
The kisses of her lover j
Stay, and confound her teares and her shrill cryings }
Her weake denials, vows, and often-dyings j
Stay, and hide all ;
But helpe not, though she call. 250
Nep. Great queene of us and heaven, hear what I bring
To make this houre a full one, if not her measure.
Cynth. Speak, seas king.
242 louts, Ql. Q2-F, blushes.
252 if not her measure. Fleay suggests, <{ Another measure."
Qi has a stage-direction after the second song, " Maskers daunce,
Neptune leads it," — followed by ^Eolus's speech (1. 266). It
omits the third song and the three speeches preceding. See Notes.
SCENE II.] $$%$*& W%tty 2$
Nep. The tunes my Amphitrite joyes to have
When she will dance upon the rising wave, 255
And court me as she sayles. My Tritons, play
Musicke to lay a storme. He lead the way. Measure.
[THIRD] SONG.
To bed, to bed ! Come, Hymen, lead the bride
And lay her by her husbands side j
Bring in the virgins every one a 60
That greeve to lie alone,
That they may kiss while they may say a maid j
To-morrow 'twill be other kist and said.
Hesperus, be long a-shining
Whilst these lovers are a-t wining. 265
jEol. [fwithin]. Ho, Neptune!
Nep. Eolus !
[Re-enter JEolus.~\
JEol. The sea goes hie j
Boreas hath rais'd a storme ; goe and apply
Thy trident ; else, I prophesie, ere day
Many a tall ship will be cast away.
Descend with all the gods and all their power, 270
To strike a calme. [Exit.]
Cynth. [We thanke you for this houre }
My favour to you all.] To gratulate
So great a service, done at my desire,
Ye shall have many floods, fuller and higher
Than you have wisht for, [and] no ebb shall dare 275
254 The. Q2, Thy. Amphitritt* Qj. Q2, Amphitrites.
255 she, Seward. Q2, they.
259 lay, Heath, D. Q2, lead.
271-72 PVe thanke you . . . you all, so Ql. Q2, A thanks
to every one, and. 275 and. Only in Ql.
[ACT i.
To let the day see where your d welling [s] are.
Now back unto your government in hast,
Lest your proud charge should swell above the wast
And win upon the iland.
Nep. We obay.
Neptune descends and the Sea Gods. [Exeunt
Favonius and other Winds. ~\
Cynth. Hold up thy head, dead Night ; seest thou not
Day ? 280
The east begins to lighten ; I must downe
And give my brother place.
Night. Oh, I could frowne
To see the Day, the Day that flings his light
Upon my kingdomes and contemnes old Night !
Let him goe on and flame ! I hope to see 285
Another wild-fire in his axel-tree.
And all fall drencht. But I forget : speake queene.
The Day growes on j I must no more be scene.
Cynth. Heave up thy drowsie head agen and see
A greater light, a greater majestic
Between our set and us ! Whip up thy team :
The Day breakes here, and yon same flashing streame
Shot from the south. Say, which way wilt thou goe ?
Night. He vanish into mists.
Cyntb. I into Day.
Exeunt [Night and Cynthia"].
Finis Maske.
276 dwellings. Only Q2 reads, dwelling.
277 government. Ql, governments.
Neptune . . . Sea Gods. After this line Ql has stage-direction,
Exeunt Maskers Descend.
291 set. Seward's correction for Qq, F, sect. Whip. Qi,Lash.
292 same flashing. Ql, D, B, sun-flaring.
293 Say . . . goe. D, making a rhyming couplet, Which
way wilt thou goe, say. 294 I into Day. Qi adds, Adew.
SCENE II.] t tytybt* WRtty 25
King. Take lights there! — Ladies, get the
bride to bed. — *95
We will not see you laid ; good night, Amintor ;
Weele ease you of that tedious ceremonie.
Were it my case, I should thinke time runne
slow.
If thou beest noble, youth, get me a boy
That may defend my kingdomes from my foes. 3°°
Amin. All happinesse to you !
King. Good night, Melantius.
Exeunt.
ACTUS SECUNDUS.
[SCENE I. Ante-room to Evadnis Bed-chamber.]
Enter Evadne, Aspatia, Dula, and other Ladyes.
Dula. Madam, shall we undresse you for this
fight?
The wars are nak't that you must make to-night.
Evadne. You are very merry, Dula.
Dul. I should be
Far merrier, madam, if it were with me
As it is with you.
\Evad. Howes that ?
Dul. That I might goe 5
To bed with him wi'th' credit that you doe.]
Evad. Why, how now, wench ?
Dul. Come, ladies, will you helpe ?
Evad. I am soone undone.
Dul. And as soone done ;
Good store of clothes will trouble you at both.
Evad. Art thou drunke, Dula ?
Dul. Why, heeres none but we. 10
Evad. Thou thinkst belike there is no mod-
esty
When we are alone.
5— 6 Hoivcsthat . . . doe. Evadne's speech and Dula's reply are
only in Qi.
SCENE I.]
27
DuL I, by my troth, you hit my thoughts
aright.
Evad. You pricke me, lady.
ist Lady. Tis against my will.
DuL Anon you must indure more and lie still ; 15
You're best to practise.
Evad. Sure, this wench is mad.
DuL No faith, this is a tricke that I have had
Since I was foureteene.
Evad. Tis high time to leave it.
DuL Nay, now He keepe it till the trick
leave me.
A dozen wanton words put in your head ao
Will make you livelier in your husbands bed.
Evad. Nay, faith, then take it.
DuL Take it, madam ; where ?
We all, I hope, will take it that are here.
Evad. Nay, then, He give you ore.
DuL So will I make
The ablest man in Rhodes, or his heart ake. as
Evad. Wilt take my place to-night ?
DuL lie hold your cards
Against any two I know.
Evad. What wilt thou doe ?
DuL Madam, weele doo Jt, and make Jm leave
play too.
14 ist Lady. Qa, Dul.
27 Against. Th, D, 'Gainst.
26 take. Qi, lie in.
28 ®ty tywnts tCrageop [ACT
Evad. Aspatia, take her part.
Dul. I will refuse it ;
She will plucke downe a side ; she does not use it. 30
Evad. Why, doe, [I prethee.]
Dul. You will find the play
Quickly, because your head lies well that way.
Evad. I thanke thee, Dula. Would thou
couldst instill
Some of thy mirth into Aspatia !
Nothing but sad thoughts in her brest doe dwell ; 35
Methinkes a meane betwixt you would doe well.
Dul. She is in love : hang me, if I were so,
But I could run my countrey. I love too
To doe those things that people in love doe.
Aspatia. It were a timelesse smile should prove
my cheeke. 40
It were a fitter houre for me to laugh,
When at the altar the religious priest
Were pacifying the offended powers
With sacrifice, then now. This should have
beene
My rite ; and all your hands have bin imploy'd 45
In giving me a spotlesse offering
To young Amintors bed, as we are now
For you. Pardon, Evadne : would my worth
Were great as yours, or that the King, or he,
31 I prethee. Only in Ql. 38 could. B queries, would.
40 cheeke. Qz, cheeke.
45 rite, so D. Qi, right j Qz and other Qq and F, night.
SCENE I.] t $^0*0 W%tty 29
Or both, thought so. Perhaps he found me
worthlesse ; 50
But till he did so, in these eares of mine,
These credulous eares, he powred the sweetest
words
That art or love could frame. If he were false,
Pardon it, Heaven ! and, if I did want
Vertue, you safely may forgive that too ; 55
For I have lost none that I had from you.
Evad. Nay, leave this sad talke, madame.
Asp. Would I could !
Then I should leave the cause.
Evad. See, if you have not spoild all Dulas
mirth !
Asp. Thou thinkst thy heart hard ; but if
thou beest caught, 60
Remember me ; thou shalt perceive a fire
Shot suddenly into thee.
Dul. Thats not so good ;
Let 'em shoot anything but fire, I feare 'em not.
Asp. Well, wench, thou maist be taken.
Evad. Ladies, good-night ; lie doe the rest
myselfe. 65
Dul. Nay, let your lord doe some.
Asp. [singing].
Lay a garland on my hearse
Of the dismall yew —
56 lost. Q5-F, left. 58 I should. Q3~F, should I.
63 I feare. Qi, B, and I fear.
67-90 Lay . . . Madame. Qi omits.
30 w tywbt& rage&E [ACT n.
Evad. Thats one of your sad songs, madame.
Asp. Beleeve me, tis a very prety one. 70
Evad. How is it, madame ?
Asp.
SONG.
Lay a garland on my hearse
Of the dismall yew j
Maidens, willow-branches beare,
Say I died true. 75
My love was false, but I was firme
From my houre of birth j
Upon my buried body lie
Lightly, gentle earth !
Evad. Fie ont, madame, the words are so
strange, they 80
Are able to make one dreame of hobgoblines. —
" I could never have the power " — sing that,
Dula.
Dul. [singing].
I could never have the power
To love one above an houre,
But my heart would prompt mine eie 85
On some other man to flie.
Venus, fix mine eies fast,
Or, if not, give me all that I shall see at last !
78/«,Th. 2q,F, lay.
79 g"*l*> Q4-F. Q*, Q3> §ently-
80-82 Fie . . . Dula. Qq, F, B print as prose.
SCENE I.]
Evad. So, leave me now.
Dul. Nay, we must see you laid.
Asp. Madame, good night. May all the mar-
iage joyes 9°
That longing maids imagine in their beds
Prove so unto you ! May no discontent
Grow twixt your love and you ! but, if there
doe,
Enquire of me, and I will guide your mone ;
Teach you an artificiall way to grieve, 95
To keepe your sorrow waking. Love your lord
No worse than I ; but, if you love so well,
Alas, you may displease him ; so did I.
This is the last time you shall looke on me. —
Ladies, farewell. As soone as I am dead, 100
Come all and watch one night about my hearse ;
Bring each a mournefull story and a teare,
To offer at it when I goe to earth ;
With flattering ivy claspe my coffin round ;
Write on my brow my fortune ; let my beere 105
Be borne by virgins, that shall sing by course
The truth of maides and perjuries of men.
Evad. Alas, I pittie thee. Exit Evadne.
Omnes. Madame, good night.
ist Lady. Come, weele let in the bridegroome.
Dul. Where's my lord ?
1st Lady. Heere, take this light.
95 TeacA, £3. Qi, Qa, and teach.
32 W$t $)a#)e0 ®rageU^ [ACT n.
Enter Amintor.
Dul. You'le finde her in the darke.no
1st Lady. Your ladye's scarce a-bed yet j you
must helpe her.
Asp. Goe, and be happy in your ladies love.
May all the wrongs that you have done to me
Be utterly forgotten in my death !
He trouble you no more, yet I will take 115
A parting kisse, and will not be denied.
[Kisses Amintor. ,]
You'le come, my lord, and see the virgins weepe
When I am laid in earth, though you yourselfe
Can know no pitty. Thus I winde myselfe
Into this willow-garland, and am prouder 1*0
That I was once your love, though now refus'd,
Then to have had another true to me.
So with [my] praiers I leave you, and must trie
Some yet unpractis'd way to grieve and die.
Exit Aspatia.
Dul. Come, ladies, will you go ?
Omnes. Good night, my lord. "5
Amintor. Much happinesse unto you all !
Exeunt [Dula and] Ladies.
I did that lady wrong. Methinkes I feele
A griefe shoot suddenly through all my veines ;
Mine eyes raine ; this is strange at such a time.
It was the King first mov'd me too't ; but he 13°
no Toule. Qi, D, B, Heele. 123 my, £3.
iz8 A, Ql. Qz, Her. 129 raine, Qi. Qz, runne.
SCENE I.] tyXfflttt WQtty 33
Has not my will in keeping. — Why doe I
Perplex myselfe thus ? Something whispers me,
Goe not to bed. My guilt is not so great
As mine owne conscience (too sensible)
Would make me thinke ; I onely brake a pro-
mise, 135
And twas the King that forst me. Timorous
flesh,
Why shak'st thou so ? Away, my idle feares !
Enter Evadne.
Yonder she is, the luster of whose eie
Can blot away the sad remembrance
Of all these things. — Oh, my Evadne, spare 14°
That tender body ; let it not take cold !
The vapors of the night will not fall here.
To bed, my love ; Hymen will punish us
For being slacke performers of his rites.
Camst thou to call me ?
Evad. No.
Amin. Come, come, my love, 145
And let us lose ourselves to one another.
Why art thou up so long ?
Evad. I am not well.
jfmin. To bed then ; let me winde thee in
these armes
Till I have banisht sicknesse.
136 that forst. Qi, inforst j D, enforc'd.
14* will, gi, D, B, shall.
34 Qfyt spaces tErage&£ [ACT n.
Evad. Good my lord,
I cannot sleepe.
Amin. Evadne, weele watch ; 150
I meane no sleeping.
Evad. He not goe to bed.
Amin. I prethee, do.
Evad. I will not for the world.
Amin. Why, my deere love ?
Evad. Why ? I have sworne I will not.
Amin. Sworne !
Evad. I.
Amin. How ? sworne, Evadne !
Evad. Yes, sworne, Amintor; and will
sweare again, 155
If you will wish to heare me.
Amin. To whom have you sworne this ?
Evad. If I should name him, the matter were
not great.
Amin. Come, this is but the coynesse of a
bride.
Evad. The coynesse of a bride !
Amin. How pretilyi6o
That frowne becomes thee !
Evad. Doe you like it so ?
Amin. Thou canst not dresse thy face in such
a looke
But I shall like it.
Evad. What looke likes you best ?
164 likes. Qi, B, will like.
SCENE I.]
35
Amin. Why doe you aske ?
Evad. That I may shew you one lesse pleas-
ing to you. 165
Amin. Howes that ?
Evad. That I may show you one lesse pleas-
ing to you.
Amin. I prethee, put thy jests in milder
lookes ;
It shewes as thou wert angry.
Evad. So perhaps
I am indeede.
Amin. Why, who has done thee wrong ? 170
Name me the man, and by thyselfe I sweare,
Thy yet unconquered self, I will revenge thee !
Evad. Now I shall trie thy truth. If thou
doest love me,
Thou weighest not anything compared with me :
Life, honour, joyes eternall, all delights 175
This world can yeeld, or hopefull people faine,
Or in the life to come, are light as aire
To a true lover when his lady frownes,
And bids him, " Doe this." Wilt thou kill this
man ?
Sweare, my Amintor, and Fie kisse the sin 180
Off from thy lips.
Amin. I wonnot sweare, sweet love,
Till I do know the cause.
Evad. I wood thou wouldst.
36 ®be $$Wbt# tCrageu^ [ACT n.
Why, it is thou that wrongst me ; I hate thee ;
Thou should'st have kild thyselfe.
Amin. If I should know that, I should quickly
kill 185
The man you hated.
Evad. Know it, then, and doo't.
Amin. Oh, no ! what look so ere thou shalt
put on
To trie my faith, I shall not think thee false j
I cannot finde one blemish in thy face
Where falsehood should abide. Leave, and to
bed. 190
If you have sworne to any of the virgins
That were your old companions, to preserve
Your maidenhead a night, it may be done
Without this meanes.
Evad. A maidenhead, Amintor,
At my yeares !
Amin. Sure she raves; this cannot be 195
Thy natural temper. — Shall I call thy maides ?
Either thy healthfull sleepe hath left thee long,
Or else some feaver rages in thy blood.
Evad. Neither, Amintor : thinke you I am
mad
Because I speake the truth ?
Amin. [Is this the truth ?] 200
Will you not lie with me to-night ?
196 Thy. Ql, B, Her. 200 Is this the truth? Only in Ql.
SCENE I.] Qfyt 9B0K0 tBtagelty 37
Evad. To-night !
You talke as if [you thought] I would hereafter.
Amin. Hereafter ! yes, I doe.
Evad. You are deceiv'd.
Put off amazement & with patience marke
What I shall utter, for the oracle 205
Knowes nothing truer. Tis not for a night
Or two that I forbeare thy bed, but ever.
Amin. I dreame. Awake, Amintor !
Evad. You heare right :
I sooner will find out the beds of snakes,
And with my youthful bloud warme their cold
flesh, aio
Letting them curie themselves about my limbes,
Then sleepe one night with thee. This is not
faind,
Nor sounds it like the coynesse of a bride.
Amin. Is flesh so earthly to endure all this ?
Are these the joys of mariage ? Hymen, keepe ais
This story (that will make succeeding youth
Neglect thy ceremonies) from all eares;
Let it not rise up, for thy shame and mine,
To after ages. We will scorne thy laws,
If thou no better blesse them. Touch the heart 220
Of her that thou hast sent me, or the world
Shall know ; there's not an altar that will smoke
202 you thought. Only in Qi. 207 ever. Q4-F, forever.
222 Shall knoiv ; there's not an altar. Qit Shall know this,
not an altar then will smoake — adopted by B. Q2 has no punc-
tuation after know.
38 W$t spapfceg ®rage&£ [ACT n.
In praise of thee ; we will adopt us sons ;
Then vertue shall inherit, and not blood.
If we doe lust, wee'le take the next we meet, 225
Serving ourselves as other creatures doe ;
And never take note of the female more,
Nor of her issue. — I doe rage in vaine ;
She can but jest. — Oh, pardon me, my love !
So deare the thoughts are that I hold of thee, *3<>
That I must breake forth. Satisfie my feare;
It is a paine, beyond the hand of death,
To be in doubt : confirme it with an oath,
If this be true.
Evad. Doe you invent the forme ;
Let there be in it all the binding words *35
Divels and conjurers can put together,
And I will take it. I have sworne before,
And here by all things holy doe againe,
Never to be acquainted with thy bed.
Is your doubt over now ? 240
Amtn. I know too much : would I had
doubted still !
Was ever such a mariage-night as this !
You powers above, if you did ever meane
Man should be us'd thus, you have thought a
way
How he may beare himselfe and save his honour : 245
Instruct me in it ; for to my dull eyes
There is no meane, no moderate course to runne ;
SCENE I.] {£1)0 $^0$ m%tty 39
I must live scorn'd, or be a murderer:
Is there a third ? Why is this night so calme ?
Why does not Heaven speake in thunder to us 250
And drowne her voice ?
Evad. This rage will doe no good.
Amin. Evadne, heare me. Thou has tane an
oath,
But such a rash one, that to keepe it were
Worse then to sweare it : call it backe to thee ;
Such vowes as those never ascend the Heaven ; 255
A teare or two will wash it quite away.
Have mercy on my youth, my hopefull youth,
If thou be pittifull ! for, without boast,
This land was proud of me : what lady was there,
That men cald faire and vertuous in this isle, 260
That would have shund my love ? It is in thee
To make me hold this worth. Oh, we vaine men,
That trust [out] all our reputation
To rest upon the weake and yeelding hand
Of feeble woman ! But thou art not stone ; 265
Thy flesh is soft, and in thine eyes doth dwell
The spirit of love ; thy heart cannot be hard.
Come, lead me from the bottome of despaire
To all the joyes thou hast ; I know thou wilt ;
And make me carefull lest the sudden change 270
Orecome my spirits.
155 those. Qi, Th, D, B, that. 263 o«f, Q$.
266 dotby £3. Qz, doe.
40 i&ty spaces ®rage&£ [ACT n.
Evad. When I call backe this oath,
The paines of hell inviron me !
Amin. I sleepe, and am too temperate. Come
to bed !
Or, by those haires, which, if thou ha[d] st a soule
Like to thy locks, were threads for kings to
weare 275
About their armes —
Evad. Why, so perhaps they are.
Amin. He dragge thee to my bed and make
thy tongue
Undoe this wicked oath, or on thy flesh
He print a thousand wounds to let out life !
Evad. I feare thee not ; do what thou dar'st
to me ! 180
Every ill-sounding word or threatning look
Thou shewest to me will be reveng'd at full.
Amin. It will not sure, Evadne ?
Evad. Do not you hazard that.
Amin. Ha ye your champions ?
Evad. Alas, Amintor, thinkst thou I for-
beare 485
To sleepe with thee, because I have put on
A maidens strictnesse ? Looke upon these
cheekes,
And thou shalt finde the hot and rising blood
Unapt for such a vow. No ; in this heart
274 badtt, Th.
i.] t spaces age&i? 41
There dwels as much desire and as much will 290
To put that wisht act in practice as ever yet
Was knowne to woman ; and they have been
showne
Both. But it was the folly of thy youth
To think this beauty, to what land soere
It shall be cald, shall stoope to any second. *95
I doe enjoy the best, and in that height
Have sworne to stand or die : you guesse the
man.
Amln. No ; let me know the man that wrongs
me so,
That I may cut his body into motes,
And scatter it before the northren winde. 300
Evad. You dare not strike him.
Amln. Doe not wrong me so :
Yes, if his body were a poysonous plant
That it were death to touch, I have a soule
Will throw me on him.
Evad. Why tis the King.
Amln. The King!
Evad. What will you doe now ?
Amln. Tis not the King ! 3°5
Evad. What did he make this match for,
dull Amintor ?
291 ivhbt. Qi, B, wished. ever. D, e'er.
294 land. B conjectures hand, observing that Evadne is cm-
ploying the language of falconry.
42 tEtye spaces ®rage&£ [ACT n.
Amln. Oh, thou hast nam'd a word that
wipes away
All thoughts revengefull ! In that sacred name,
" The King," there lies a terror. What fraile
man
Dares lift his hand against it ? Let the gods 310
Speake to him when they please : till when, let us
Suffer and waite.
Evad. Why should you fill yourselfe so full
of heate
And haste so to my bed ? I am no virgin.
Amln. What divell put it in thy fancy, then, 3*5
To mary me ?
Evad. Alas, I must have one
To father children and to beare the name
Of husband to me, that my sinne may be
More honorable !
Amln. What a strange thing am I !
Evad. A miserable one, one that myselfe 320
Am sory for.
Amln. Why, shew it then in this :
If thou hast pittie, though thy love be none,
Kill me ; and all true lovers, that shall live
In after ages crost in their desires,
Shall blesse thy memory and call thee good, 315
Because such mercy in thy heart was found,
To rid a lingring wretch.
308 name. Qi, Th, D, B, word. 319 a. Qi, B, omit.
SCENE I.] Qfyt tyWflt* ®W%tty 43
Evad. I must have one
To fill thy roome again, if thou wert dead ;
Else, by this night, I would ! I pitty thee.
Amin. These strange and sudden injuries have
falne 330
So thicke upon me, that I lose all sense
Of what they are. Methinkes I am not wrong'd ;
Nor is it ought, if from the censuring world
I can but hide it. — Reputation,
Thou art a word, no more ! — But thou hast
showne 335
An impudence so high that to the world
I feare thou wilt betray or shame thyselfe.
Evad. To cover shame, I tooke thee ; never
feare
That I would blaze myselfe.
Amin. Nor let the King
Know I conceive he wrongs me; then mine
honor 34<>
Will thrust me into action ; that my flesh
Could beare with patience. And it is some ease
To me in these extremes, that I know this
Before I toucht thee ; else, had all the sinnes
Of mankinde stood betwixt me and the King, 345
I had gone through Jem to his heart and thine.
I have lost one desire : tis not his crowne
341 that. Edd. 1778, W, tho'. 343 know. £4, knew.
347 lost, gi, left.
44 t $)a#)f 0 tErage&p [ACT n.
Shall buy me to thy bed, now I resolve
He has dishonoured thee. Give me thy hand ;
Be carefull of thy credit, and sin close ; 35°
Tis all I wish. Upon thy chamber-floure
He rest to-night that morning visiters
May thinke we did as married people use :
And prethee, smile upon me when they come,
And seeme to toy as if thou hadst beene pleased 35 5
With what we did.
Evad. Feare not ; I will doe this.
Amin. Come, let us practise ; and, as wan-
tonly
As ever loving bride and bridegroome met,
Lets laugh and enter here.
Evad. I am content.
Amin. Downe all the swellings of my troubled
heart! 360
When we walke thus intwin'd, let all eies see
If ever lovers better did agree. Exeunt.
[SCENE II. An Apartment in the House of Ca liana #.]
Enter Aspatia, Antipbilay and Olimpias.
Aspatia. Away, you are not sad ; force it no
further.
Good gods, how well you looke ! Such a full
colour
358 loving. Qi, B, longing. Exeunt. Qz, Exit.
ii.] e spaces rage&E 45
Yo [u] ng bashfull brides put on ; sure, you are
new marled !
Antiphila. Yes, madame, to your griefe.
Asp. Alas, poor wenches !
Goe learn to love first 5 learne to lose your-
selves ; 5
Learne to be flattered, and beleeve and blesse
The double tongue that did it ; make a faith
Out of the miracles of ancient lovers,
Such as speake truth and died in't ; and, like me,
Beleeve all faithful, and be miserable. 10
Did you nere love yet, wenches ? Speake, Olim-
pias :
Thou hast an easie temper, fit for stamp.
Olimpias. Never.
Asp. Nor you, Antiphila ?
Ant. Nor I.
Asp. Then, my good girls, be more than
women, wise ;
At least bee more than I was; and be sure 15
You credit anything the light gives life to,
Before a man. Rather beleeve the sea
9 speake. Th, D, spake. died. Qz, di'd.
u Did . . . Olimpias. In all early editions except Qi, this line
follows 1. 8 5 the transposition was made by Theobald.
Qi, The double tongue that did it,
Did you ere love yet wenches, speake Olimpas,
Thou hast a metled temper, fit for stamp.
15-27 and be sure . . . beast man. Qi omits. Qa-F, as prose.
1 6 life, £2. Q3-F, light.
46 {Eije spaces ®rage&p [ACT n.
Weepes for the ruin'd marchant, when he rores ;
Rather, the wind courts but the pregnant sailes,
When the strong cordage crackes ; rather, the
sunne ao
Comes but to kisse the fruit in wealthy autumne,
When all falles blasted. If you needs must love,
(Forc'd by ill fate) take to your maiden bosomes
Two dead-cold aspicks, and of them make
lovers :
They cannot flatter nor forsweare ; one kisse 25
Makes a long peace for all. But man —
Oh, that beast man ! Come, lets be sad, my
girles :
That downe-cast of thine eie, Olimpias,
Shewes a fine sorrow. — Marke, Antiphila ;
Just such another was the nymph ^Enones, 30
When Paris brought home Hellen. — Now, a
teare ;
And then thou art a piece expressing fully
The Carthage queene, when from a cold sea-
rocke,
Full with her sorrow, she tied fast her eyes
To the faire Trojan ships; and having lost
them, 35
Just as thine does, downe stole a teare. : — An-
tiphila,
24 dead-cold. Qa, dead cold j corrected by Th.
30 jEnones. F, GEnone.
36 thine does. £3, thine eyes does j Q4-F, D, thine eyes do.
47
What would this wench doe, if she were Aspa-
tia ?
Here she would stand till some more pittying god
Turnd her to marble ! — Tis enough, my
wench ! —
Shew me the peece of needleworke you wrought. 40
Ant. Of Ariadne, madam ?
Asp. . Yes, that peece. —
This should be Theseus; h'as a cousening
face. —
You meant him for a man ?
Ant. He was so, madame.
Asp. Why, then, tis well enough. — Never
looke backe ;
You have a full winde and a false heart,
Theseus. — 45
Does not the story say, his keele was split,
Or his masts spent, or some kinde rocke or other
Met with his vessell ?
Ant. Not as I remember.
Asp. It should ha beene so. Could the gods
know this,
And not, of all their number, raise a storme ? 50
But they are all as evil. This false smile
Was well exprest ; just such another caught
me. —
51-54 But they . . . quicksand. The division of lines follows D.
In Qi lines end with exprest, dntiphila, quicksand.
51 evil, D. Qq, F, ill
48 Qfyt spaces ®rage&£ [ACT n.
You shall not goe so. —
Antiphila, in this place worke a quicksand,
And over it a shallow smiling water, 55
And his ship ploughing it ; and then a Feare :
Doe that Feare to the life, wench.
Ant. Twill wrong the storie
Asp. Twill make the story, wrong* d by
wanton poets,
Live long and be beleev'd. But wheres the lady ?
Ant. There, madame. 60
Asp. Fie, you have mist it here, Antiphila ;
You are much mistaken, wench :
These colours are not dull and pale enough
To shew a soule so full of misery
As this sad ladies was. Doe it by me, 65
Doe it againe by me, the lost Aspatia ;
And you shall finde all true but the wilde iland.
I stand upon the sea-breach now ; and thinke
Mine armes thus, and mine haire blowne with
the wind,
Wilde as that desart ; and let all about me 70
Tell that I am forsaken. Doe my face
(If thou hadst ever feeling of a sorrow)
Thus, thus, Antiphila : strive to make me looke
57/0 the life. Qi, bravely.
68 and thinke, Qi and D omit. Ql, D, B, Suppose I stand
upon the sea-breach now.
71 Tell that I am forsaken. Qi substitutes, Be teares of my
story ; Theobald, Be teachers, etc.
SCENE II.] Qfyt $$Wbt8 1&W%tty 49
Like Sorrowes monument ; and the trees about
me,
Let them be dry and leaveless ; let the rocks 75
Groane with continuall surges ; and behind me,
Make all a desolation. Looke, looke, wenches,
A miserable life of this poore picture !
Olim. Deere madam !
Asp. I have done. Sit downe, and let us
Upon that point fixe all our eyes, that point
there. 80
Make a dull silence, till you feel a sudden sad-
nesse
Give us new soules.
Enter Calianax.
Calianax. The King may doe this, and he
may not doe it :
My child is wrongd, disgrac'd. — Well, how
now, huswives ?
What, at your ease ! is this a time to sit still ? 85
Up, you young lazie whores, up, or He swenge
you !
Olim. Nay, good my lord —
CaL You'l lie downe shortly. Get you in, and
worke !
What, are you growne so reasty you want
heates ?
77 Looke, looke. Qi,D, B, See, see.
8 1 dull, £>3 et al. ; &., Qz, dumbe.
89 reasty. Qi, rusty. £5, resty.
50 Wqt spaces ®rageu^ [ACT n.
We shall have some of the court-boyes doe that
office. 9°
Ant. My lord, we doe no more than we are
charg'd :
It is the ladies pleasure we be thus
In griefe, shee is forsaken.
Cal. Theres a rogue too,
A young dissembling slave ! — Well, get you
in. —
He have a bout with that boy. Tis hie time 95
Now to be valiant : I confesse my youth
Was never prone that way. What, made an
asse !
A court-stale ! Well, I will be valiant,
And beate some dozen of these whelps ; I will !
And theres another of 'em, a trim cheating soul-
dier ; I0°
He maule that rascall ; has out-brav'd me twice ;
But now, I thanke the gods, I am valiant. —
Goe, get you in. — He take a course with all.
Exeunt Qm\nes\*
90 doe that office. Qi, D, B, heat you shortly.
93 In griefe, shee is forsaken. Dyce omits comma 5 Mason, B,
omit comma and put semi-colon after thus. Qi— Q5 print in
griefe in the preceding line.
ACTUS TERTIUS.
[SCENE I. Ante-room to Evadne* s Bed-chamber.]
Enter Cleon, Strato, and Dipbilus.
Cleon. Your sister is not up yet.
Diphilus. Oh, brides must take their morn-
ings rest ; the night is troublesome.
Strata. But not tedious.
Diph. What ods, hee has not my sisters maid- 5
enhead to-night ?
Stra. None; its ods against any bridegrome
living, he nere gets it while he lives.
Dlpb. Y'are merry with my sister; you'le
please to allow me the same freedome with your 10
mother.
Stra. Shees at your service.
Diph. Then shees merry enough of herselfe ;
shee needs no tickling. Knocke at the dore.
Stra. We shall interrupt them. 15
Diph. No matter ; they have the yeare before
them. [Strata knocks.]
Good morrow, sister. Spare yourselfe to-day ;
The night will come againe.
Enter Amintor
Amintor. Whose there ? my brother ! I'm no
readier yet. *o
Your sister is but now up.
7 None, Qi. Qa, No.
52 $t $a£&e$ rage&E [ACT m.
Dipb. You looke as you had lost your eyes
to-night :
I thinke you ha not slept.
Amin. I faith I have not.
Diph. You have done better, then.
Amin. We ventured for a boy ; when he is
twelve,
A shall command against the foes of Rhodes.
Shall we be merry ?
Stra. You cannot ; you want sleepe.
Amin. Tis true. — (Aside .) But she,
As if she had drunke Lethe, or had made
Even with Heaven, did fetch so still a sleepe,
So sweet and sound —
Dipb. Whats that ?
Amin. Your sister frets
This morning, and does turn her eyes upon me,
As people on their headsman. She does chafe
And kisse, and chafe againe, and clap my
cheekes ;
Shees in another world.
Dipb. Then I had lost : I was about to lay
You had not got her maidenhead to-night.
Amin. \aside\ . Ha ! he does not mocke me ? —
Y'ad lost indeed ;
I doe not use to bungle.
Cleon. You doe deserve her.
38 be Joes not mocke. Qi, D, B, does he not mocke.
SCENE I.] 0 $&£&*$ m%tty 53
Amin. (aside). I laid my lips to hers, and that
wild breath, 4«>
That was so rude and rough to me last night,
Was sweet as Aprill. He be guilty too,
If these be the effects.
Enter Melantius.
Melantius. Good day, Amintor ; for to me the
name
Of brother is too distant ; we are friends, 45
And that is nearer.
Amin. Deare Melantius !
Let me behold thee. — Is it possible ?
Mel. What sudden gaze is this ?
Amin. Tis wondrous strange !
Mel. Why does thine eye desire so strict a view
Of that it knowes so well ? Theres nothing heere 50
That is not thine.
Amin. I wonder much, Melantius,
To see those noble lookes, that made me thinke
How vertuous thou art ; and, on the sudden,
Tis strange to me thou shouldst have worth and
honour j
Or not be base, and false, and trecherous, 55
And every ill. But —
Mel. Stay, stay, my friend ;
I feare this sound will not become our loves :
No more ; embrace me !
58 No more ,• embrace me. Qq and D read, No more embrace
me. F has comma after more.
54 ®i)e Sprues tErageDy [ACT m.
Amin. Oh, mistake me not !
I know thee to be full of all those deeds
That we fraile men call good ; but by the course 60
Of nature thou shouldst be as quickly chang'd
As are the windes, dissembling as the sea,
That now weares browes as smooth as virgins be,
Tempting the merchant to invade his face,
And in an houre cals his billows up, 65
And shoots em at the sun, destroying all
A carries on him. — (Aside?) Oh, how nere am I
To utter my sicke thoughts !
Mel. But why, my friend, should I be so by
nature ?
Amin. I have wed thy sister, who hath vertu-
ous thoughts 70
Enow for one whole family ; and it is strange
That you should feele no want.
Mel. Beleeve me, this is complement too
cunning for me.
Dip}). What should I be then by the course
of nature,
They having both robd me of so much vertue ?
Stra. Oh, call the bride, my lord Amintor,
That wee may see her blush, and turne her eies
downe :
It is the pritiest sport.
Amin. Evadne !
73 this Is complement. D, this compliment's.
SCENE I.] {£*}£ tyZtfX* 1&m%tty 55
Evadne (within). My lord ?
Amin. Come forth, my love :
Your brothers do attend to wish you joy. 80
Evad. [within] . I am not ready yet.
Amin. Enough, enough.
Evad. ]witbin\ . They'le mock me.
Amin. Faith, thou shalt come in.
Enter Evadne.
Mel. Good morrow, sister. He that under-
stands
Whom you have wed, neede not to wish you joy ;
You have enough ; take heede you be not proud. 85
Dipb. Oh, sister, what have you done ?
Evad. I done ! Why, what have I done ?
Stra. My lord Amintor sweares you are no
maid now.
Evad. Push!
Stra. I faith, he does.
Evad. I knew I should be mockt. 90
Dipb. With a truth.
Evad. If twere to doe againe,
In faith I would not mary.
Amin. (aside). Nor I, by Heaven !
Dipb. Sister, Dula sweares
Shee heard you cry two roomes off.
Evad. Fie, how you talke !
86-102, Oh, sister . . . the other 'way. The arrangement of
lines is based on that of Dyce. B prints as prose.
56 1&ty Spaces tlfrageDp [ACT m.
Diph. Lets see you walke. 95
Evad. By my troth y'are spoild.
Mel. Amintor. —
Amin. Ha!
Mel. Thou art sad.
Amin. Who, I ? I thanke you for that.
Shall Diphilus, thou, and I sing a catch ?
Mel. How ? ioo
Amin. Prethee, lets.
Mel. Nay, that's too much the other way.
Amin. I am so lightned with my happi-
nesse ! —
How dost thou, love ? Kisse me.
Evad. I cannot love you, you tell tales of me. 105
Amin. Nothing but what becomes us. —
Gentlemen,
Would you had all such wives, — and all the
world,
That I might be no wonder ! — Y'are all sad :
What, doe you envie me ? I walke, methinks,
On water, and nere sinke, I am so light. no
Mel. Tis well you are so.
Amin. Well, how can I be other,
When shee lookes thus ? — Is there no musicke
there ?
Lets dance.
95-96 Diph. Lets . . . spoild. Edd. 1778, W, and B, read:
Diph. Let's see you walk, Evadne. By my troth, y'are spoiTd.
SCENE I.] t ^3^Uf0 m%tty 57
Mel. Why this is strange, Amintor !
Amin. I doe not know myselfe ; yet I could
wish
My joy were lesse. 115
Diph. He mary too, if it will make one thus.
Evad. (aside). Amintor, harke.
Amin. What saies my love ? — I must obey.
Evad. You doe it scurvily ; twill be perceiv'd.
Clean. My lord, the King is here. iao
Enter King and Lisip\_pus~\.
Amin. Where ?
Stra. And his brother.
King. Good morrow, all ! —
Amintor, joy on joy fall thicke upon thee ! —
And, madame you are alterd since I saw you ; 125
I must salute you ; you are now anothers.
How lik't you your nights rest ?
Evad. Ill, sir.
Amin. Indeed,
She tooke but little.
Lysippus. You'le let her take more,
And thanke her too, shortly.
King. Amintor, wert thou truely honest till 13°
Thou wert maried ?
Amin. Yes, sir.
King. Tell me, then, how shews
The sport unto thee ?
Amin. Why, well.
58 Qfyt spaces tErageap [ACT m.
King. What did you doe ?
Amin. No more, nor lesse then other couples
use;
You know what tis ; it has but a coarse name.
King. But, prethee, I should thinke by her
blacke eie 135
And her red cheeke, shee should be quicke and
stirring
In this same businesse, ha ?
Amin. I cannot tell ;
I nere tried other, sir ; but I perceive
She is as quicke as you delivered.
King. Well, youle trust me then, Amintor, to
choose 140
A wife for you agen ?
Amin. No, neve^ sir.
King. Why, like you this so ill ?
Amin. So well I like her.
For this I bow my knee in thanks to you,
And unto Heaven will pay my gratefull tribute
Hourely ; and doe hope we shall draw out 145
A long contented life together here,
And die, both full of gray haires, in one day :
For which the thanks is yours. But if the powers
That rule us please to call her first away,
Without pride spoke, this world holds not a
wife 150
Worthy to take her roome.
SCENE I.] £ ty^t* t%%tty 59
King. I doe not like this. — All forbeare the
roome,
But you, Amintor, and your lady.
[Exeunt all but the King, Amintor, and Evadne.~\
I have some speech with you that may concerne
Your after living well. 155
Amin. [aside] . A will not tell me that he lies
with her !
If he doe, something heavenly stay my heart,
For I shall be apt to thrust this arme of mine
To acts unlawfull !
King. You will suffer me
To talke with her, Amintor, and not have 160
A jealous pang ?
Amin. Sir, I dare trust my wife
With whom she dares to talke, and not be jeal-
ous. [Retires."]
King. How doe you like Amintor ?
Evad. As I did, sir.
King. Howes that ?
Evad. As one that, to fulfil your will and
pleasure, 165
I have given leave to call me wife and love.
King. I see there is no lasting faith in sin ;
They that breake word with Heaven will breake
agen
With all the world, and so doest thou with me ?
165 your 'will. Qi omits.
60 t&ty spaces ®rage&£ [ACT m.
Evad. How, sir?
King. This subtle womans ignorance 170
Will not excuse you : thou hast taken oathes,
So great, methought, they did misbecome
A womans mouth, that thou wouldst nere injoy
A man but me.
Evad. I never did sweare so ;
You doe me wrong.
King. Day and night have heard it. 1 75
Evad. I swore indeed that I would never love
A man of lower place ; but, if your fortune
Should throw you from this height, I bade you
trust
I would forsake you, and would bend to him
That won your throne : I love with my ambition, 1 80
Not with my eies. But, if I ever yet
Toucht any other, leprosie light here
Upon my face ! which for your royalty
I would not staine.
King. Why, thou dissemblest, and
It is in me to punish thee.
Evad. Why, it is in me, 185
Then, not to love you, which will more afflict
Your body then your punishment can mine.
King. But thou hast let Amintor lie with thee.
Evad. I hannot.
171 methought, Q3~F. Qi, Qa, that methought.
misbecome. £3— F, D, B, not well become.
i.] Wqt spaces tErage&E 61
King. Impudence ! he sales himselfe so.
Evad. A lies.
King. A does not.
Evad. By this light, he does, 190
Strangely and basely ! and lie prove it so.
I did not only shun him for a night,
But told him I would never close with him.
King. Speake lower; tis false.
Evad. I am no man
To answere with a blow; or if I were, J95
You are the King. But urge [me] not ; tis most
true.
King. Doe not I know the uncontrouled
thoughts
That youth brings with him when his blood is
high
With expectation and desire of that
He long hath waited for ? Is not his spirit, »oo
Though he be temperate, of a valiant straine
As this our age hath knowne ? What could he
doe,
If such a suddaine speech had met his blood,
But ruine thee forever, if he had not kild
thee?
He could not beare it thus : he is as we, 205
Or any other wrong'd man.
Evad. It is dissembling.
196 me, £3. Qi, Qz, omit.
62 tTOlje spaces ®rage&i? [ACT m.
King. Take him ! farewel ; henceforth I am
thy foe;
And what disgraces I can blot thee with, looke
for.
Evad. Stay, sir. — Amintor ! — You shall
heare. — Amintor !
Amln. [coming forward] . What, my love ? aio
Evad. Amintor, thou hast an ingenious look,
And shouldst be vertuous : it amazeth me
That thou canst make such base malicious lies.
Amin. What, my deere wife ?
Evad. Deere wife ! I doe despise thee.
Why, nothing can be baser then to sow **5
Dissention amongst lovers.
Amin. Lovers, who ?
Evad. The King and me.
Amin. Oh, God !
Evad. Who should live long and love with-
out distast,
Were it not for such pickthanks as thyselfe.
Did you lie with me? sweare now, and be punishtazo
In hell for this.
Amin. The faithlesse sin I made
To faire Aspatia is not yet reveng'd ;
It followes me. — I will not lose a word
212 sbouldst. Q2, should'st. 213 canst. £2, can'st.
217 Godj Qz. Later editions change to Heaven, and so through-
out the play. 223 lose. Q6, F, D, B. Qi-Qs, loose.
SCENE I.] 1&ty ty&tftt* 1&m%tty 63
To this vilde woman : but to you, my King,
The anguish of my soule thrusts out this truth, 115
Y'are a tyrant ! and not so much to wrong
An honest man thus, as to take a pride
In talking with him of it.
Evad. Now, sir, see
How loud this fellow lied !
Amin. You that can know to wrong, should
know how men 230
Must right themselves. What punishment is due
From me to him that shall abuse my bed ?
Is it not death ? Nor can that satisfie,
Unlesse I send your lives through all the land,
To shew how nobly I have freed myselfe. »35
King. Draw not thy sword ; thou know'st I
cannot feare
A subjects hand ; but thou shall feele the weight
Of this, if thou doest rage.
Amin. The weight of that !
If you have any worth, for Heavens sake, thinke
I feare not swords ; for, as you are meere man, 240
I dare as easily kill you for this deed,
As you dare thinke to doe it. But there is
Divinitie about you that strikes dead
My rising passions : as you are my King,
I fall before you and present my sword 245
224 v//<&, D. Qq, F, wild. 233 Lit, Edd. 1778. £>q, F, It is.
234 fives. Sympson, D, limbs.
64 ®t)e $paj?D£0 ®rage&£ [ACT m.
To cut mine owne flesh, if it be your will.
Alas, I am nothing but a multitude
Of wa [1] king griefes ! Yet, should I murder
you,
I might before the world take the excuse
Of madnesse : for, compare my injuries, *50
And they will well appeare too sad a weight
For reason to endure. But fall I first
Amongst my sorrowes, ere my treacherous hand
Touch holy things ! But why (I know not what
I have to say) why did you choose out me *ss
To make thus wretched ? There were thou-
sands, fooles,
Easie to worke on, and of state enough,
Within the iland.
Evad. I would not have a foole ;
It were no credit for me.
Amin. Worse and worse !
Thou that dar'st talke unto thy husband thus, 260
Professe thyselfe a whore, and, more then so,
Resolve to be so still ! — It is my fate
To beare and bo we beneath a thousand griefes,
To keepe that little credit with the world ! —
But there were wise ones too; you might have
tane 265
Another.
248 'walking : so Qq, except Qa, which misprints, waking.
256 thousands. Comma inserted by B. F, D, thousand fooles.
SCENE I.] tyty $ai>&** ®m%tty 65
King. No, for I beleve[d] thee honest
As thou wert valiant.
Amin. All the happinesse
Bestow'd upon me turnes into disgrace.
Gods, take your honesty againe, for I
Am loaden with it ! — Good my lord the King, 370
Be private in it.
King. Thou maist live, Amintor,
Free as thy King, if thou wilt winke at this
And be a meanes that we may meet in secret.
Amin. A baud ! Hold, hold, my brest ! A
bitter curse
Seize me if I forget not all respects »75
That are religious, on another word
Sounded like that ; and through a sea of sinnes
Will wade to my revenge, though I should call
Paines heere and after life upon my soule !
King. Well, I am resolute you lay not with
her ; *8o
And so I leave you. Exit King.
Evad. You must needs be prating;
And see what follows !
Amin. Prethe, vex me not.
Leave me. I am afraid some sudden start
Will pull a murther on me.
Evad. I am gone ;
I love my life well. Exit Evadne.
a66 bele'ved. Corrected by D.
66 Wyt spaces QfrageOE [ACT m.
Amin. I hate mine as much. 185
This tis to breake a troth ! I should be glad
If all this tide of griefe would make me mad.
Exit.
[SCENE II. A Room in the Palace. ~\
Enter Melantius.
Melantius. He know the cause of all Amintors
griefes,
Or friendship shall be idle.
Enter Calianax.
Calianax. Oh, Melantius,
My daughter will die !
Mel. Trust me, I am sorry ;
Would thou hadst tane her roome !
Gal. Thou art a slave,
A cut-throat slave, a bloody treacherous slave ! 5
Mel. Take heed, old man ; thou wilt be heard
to rave,
And lose thine offices.
CaL I am valiant growne
At all these yeares, and thou art but a slave !
MeL Leave!
Some company will come, and I respect 10
Thy yeares, not thee, so much that I could wish
To laugh at thee alone.
CaL He spoile your mirth :
SCENE II.] t&ty $&£&£$ ®tagetl^ 67
I meane to fight with thee. There lie, my
cloake !
This was my fathers sword, and he durst fight.
Are you prepar'd ?
Mel. Why, wilt thou doate thyselfe 15
Out of thy life ? Hence, get thee to bed,
Have carefull looking-to, and eate warme things,
And trouble not mee : my head is full of thoughts
More waighty then thy life or death can be.
Cal. You have a name in warre, where you
stand safe ao
Amongst a multitude ; but I will try
What you dare doe unto a weake old man
In single fight. You'le give ground, I feare.
Come, draw.
Mel. I will not draw, unlesse thou pulst thy
death »5
Upon thee with a stroke. Theres no one blow
That thou canst give hath strength enough to
kill me.
Tempt me not so far, then ; the power of earth
Shall not redeeme thee.
Cal. \aside\ . I must let him alone ;
Hees stout and able ; and, to say the truth, 30
However I may set a face and talke,
I am not valiant. When I was a youth,
I kept my credit with a testie tricke
I had amongst cowards, but durst never fight.
34 amongst. Qi, mongst.
68 Wqt spaces tErage&E [ACT m.
Mel. I will not promise to preserve your life, 35
If you doe stay.
' Cal. [aside']. I would give halfe my land
That I durst fight with that proud man a little.
If I had men to hold him, I would beate him
Till he aske me mercy.
Mel. Sir, wil you be gone ?
Cal. [aside~\ . I dare not stay j but I will goe
home and beat 40.
My servants all over for this. Exit Calianax.
Mel. This old fellow haunts me.
But this distracted carriage of mine Amintor
Takes deepely on me. I will finde the cause :
I fear his conscience cries, he wrong'd Aspatia. 45
Enter Amintor.
Amintor \asidi\ . Mens eyes are not so sub-
till to perceive
My inward miserie : I beare my griefe
Hid from the world. How art thou wretched
then ?
For ought I know, all husbands are like me;
And every one I talke with of his wife 50
Is but a well dissembler of his woes,
As I am. Would I knew it ! for the rarenesse
Afflicts me now.
Mel. Amintor, we have not enjoy'd our
39 aske. Qi, askt.
54—63 Amintor . . . to mee. As prose Qq, F, B. The orig-
inal may have been in verse, but its restoration seems impossible.
Weber and Dyce have made attempts.
SCENE II.] ®^ ^3^000 1&W%tty 69
friendship of late, for we were wont to change 55
our soules in talke.
Amin. Melantius, I can tell thee a good jest
of Strato and a lady the last day.
Mel. How wast ?
Amin. Why such an odde one ! 60
Mel. I have longd to speake with you ; not of
an idle jest that's forc'd, but of matter that you
are bound to utter to mee.
Amin. What is that, my friend ?
Mel. I have observ'd your words fall from
your tongue 65
Wildly ; and all your carriage
Like one that strove to shew his merry mood,
When he were ill disposed : you were not wont
To put such scorne into your speech, or weare
Upon your face ridiculous jollitie.
Some sadnesse sits here, which your cunning
would
Cover ore with smiles, and twill not be. What
is it ?
Amin. A sadnesse here ! what cause
Can fate provide for me to make me so ?
Am I not lov'd through all this isle ? The King 75
55 change, Th. Qq, F, charge.
65—66 I have . . . carriage, so Qq, F, B. Edd. 1778^ al.
end first line, "words.
73 A sadnesse here! ivbat cause. D, A sadnesse here, Melan-
tius ! what cause.
70 e spaces rage&£ [ACT m.
Raines greatnesse on me. Have I not received
A lady to my bed, that in her eie
Keepes mounting fire, and on her tender cheekes
Inevitable colour, in her heart
A prison for all vertue ? Are not you, 80
Which is above all joyes, my constant friend ?
What sadnesse can I have ? No ; I am light
And feele the courses of my bloud more warme
And stirring than they were. Faith, mary too;
And you will feel so unexprest a joy 85
In chaste embraces that you will indeed
Appeare another.
MeL You may shape, Amintor,
Causes to cozen the whole world withall,
And you yourselfe too ; but tis not like a friend
To hide your soule from me. Tis not your
nature 9°
To be thus idle : I have scene you stand
As you were blasted midst of all your mirth ;
Call thrice aloud, and then start, faining joy
So coldly ! — World, what doe I here ? a friend
Is nothing ! Heaven, I would ha told that man 95
My secret sinnes ! He search an unknowne
land,
And there plant friendship; all is withered here.
Come with a complement ! I would have fought,
Or told my friend a lied, ere soothd him so.
Out of my bosome ! 100
79
SCENE II.] 0 ^^t& W%tty 7 1
Amin. But there is nothing.
Mel. Worse and worse ! farewell.
From this time have acquaintance, but no friend.
Amin. Melantius, stay ; you shall know what
that is.
Mel. See ; how you plaid with friendship ! be
advis'd
How you give cause unto yourselfe to say 105
You ha lost a friend.
Amin. Forgive what I ha done ;
For I am so oregone with injuries
Unheard of, that I lose consideration
Of what I ought to doe. — Oh ! — Oh !
Mel. Doe not weepe. no
What ist ? May I once but know the man
Hath turn'd my friend thus !
Amin. I had spoke at first,
But that —
Mel. But what ?
Amin. I held it most unfit
For you to know. Faith, doe not know it yet.
Mel. Thou seest my love, that will keepe
company 115
With thee in teares; hide nothing, then, from
me ;
For when I know the cause of thy distemper,
1 04 See ; Aoiv you plaid. No punctuation after See in Qq, F.
B conjectures, See how you play. Qi has plead for plaid.
72 e spaces rage&p [ACT m.
With mine old armour He adorne myselfe,
My resolution, and cut through thy foes,
Unto thy quiet, till I place thy heart 120
As peaceable as spotlesse innocence.
What is it ?
Amm. Why, tis this — it is too bigge
To get out — let my teares make way awhile.
Mel. Punish me strangely, Heaven, if he es-
cape
Of life or fame, that brought this youth to this ! "5
Amm. Your sister —
Mel. Well sayd.
Amm. You'l wish't unknowne,
When you have heard it.
Mel. No.
Amin. Is much to blame,
And to the King has given her honour up,
And lives in whoredome with him.
Mel. How's this ?
Thou art run mad with injury indeed; 130
Thou couldst not utter this else. Speake againe,
For I forgive it freely ; tell thy griefes.
Amm. Shees wanton; I am loth to say, a
whore,
Though it be true.
Mel. Speake yet againe, before mine anger grow 135
Up beyond throwing downe : what are thy
griefes ?
SCENE II.] Qt $$%&)& QZ>W%tty 73
Amin. By all our friendship, these.
Mel. What, am I tame?
After mine actions, shall the name of friend
Blot all our family, and strike the brand
Of whore upon my sister, unreveng'd ? 140
My shaking flesh, be thou a witnesse for me
With what unwillingnesse I goe to scourge
This rayler, whom my folly hath cald friend.
I will not take thee basely : thy sword
\_Draws bis szuord,~\
Hangs neere thy hand ; draw it that I may whip 145
Thy rashnesse to repentance ; draw thy sword !
Amin. Not on thee, did thy anger goe as hie
As troubled waters. Thou shouldst do me ease
Here and eternally, if thy noble hand
Would cut me from my sorrows.
Mel. This is base 150
And fearefull. They that use to utter lies
Provide not blowes but words to qualifie
The men they wrong'd. Thou hast a guilty
cause.
Amin. Thou pleasest me ; for so much more
like this
Will raise my anger up above my griefes *55
(Which is a passion easier to be borne)
And I shall then be happy.
139 strike. Qi, stick. 147 goe. £3, swell.
148 troubled waters, Qi, Qa. (£3, D, B, the wilde surges.
74 Wqt
MeL Take, then, more
To raise thine anger : tis meere cowardise
Makes thee not draw; and I will leave thee
dead,
However. But if thou art so much prest 160
With guilt and feare as not to dare to fight,
He make thy memory loath'd and fixe a scandall
Upon thy name for ever.
Amin. Then I draw,
As justly as our magistrates their swords
To cut offenders off. I knew before 165
Twould grate your eares ; but it was base in you
To urge a waighty secret from your friend
And then rage at it. I shall be at ease,
If I be kild ; and, if you fall by me,
I shall not long outlive you.
Mel. Stay awhile. — 170
The name of friend is more than family
Or all the world besides : I was a foole.
Thou searching humane nature that didst wake
To doe me wrong, thou art inquisitive,
And thrusts me upon questions that will take 175
My sleepe away. Would I had died, ere knowne
This sad dishonour ! — pardon me, my friend.
[Sheaths his sword.]
If thou wilt strike, here is a faithfull heart ;
Pierce it, for I will never heave my hand
To thine. Behold the power thou hast in me ! 180
SC.NE ii.] Je g^Des rageai? 75
I doe beleeve my sister is a whore,
A leprous one. Put up thy sword, young man.
Amin. How should I beare it, then, she being
so?
I feare, my friend, that you will lose me shortly,
[Sheaths his sword^
And I shall doe a foule act on myselfe, 185
Through these disgraces.
Mel. Better halfe the land
Were buried quick together. No, Amintor,
Thou shalt have ease. Oh, this adulterous King,
That drew her too't ! where got he the spirit
To wrong me so ?
Amin. What is it, then, to me, 190
If it be wrong to you ?
Mel. Why, not so much :
The credit of our house is throwne away.
But from his iron den He waken Death,
And hurle him on this King : my honestie
Shall steele my sword ; and on its horrid point 195
He weare my cause, that shall amaze the eyes
Of this proud man, and be too glittring
For him to looke on.
Amin. I have quite undone my fame.
Mel. Drie up thy watrie eyes, 200
And cast a manly looke upon my face,
For nothing is so wilde as I thy friend
'95 '«, Ql- Q', £*> my.
76 tro&e ^a^De0 Qfrageap
Till I have freed thee : still this swelling brest.
I goe thus from thee, and will never cease
My vengeance till I finde thy heart at peace. 205
Amin. It must not be so. Stay ! Mine eies
would tell
How loth I am to this ; but, love and teares,
Leave me awhile ! for I have hazarded
All that this world cals happy. — Thou hast
wrought
A secret from me, under name of friend, "o
Which art could nere have found, or torture
wrung
From out my bosome. Give it me agen;
For I will find it where soere it lies,
Hid in the mortal'st part : invent a way
To give it backe.
Mel. Why would you have it backe
I will to death pursue him with revenge.
Amin. Therefore I call it backe from thee ;
for I know
Thy blood so high that thou wilt stir in this,
And shame me to posterity. 'Take to thy
weapon. [Draws bis swordJ^
Mel. Heare thy friend that beares more yeares
then thou.
Amin. I will not heare : but draw, or I —
Mel. Amintor !
a°5 tby, Q1
77
Amin. Draw, then : for I am full as resolute
As fame and honour can inforce me be :
I cannot linger. Draw !
Mel. I doe. But is not
My share of credit equall with thine, 225
If I doe stir ?
Amin. No : for it will be cald
Honor in thee to spill thy sisters blood,
If she her birth abuse ; and, on the King
A brave revenge : but on me, that have walkt
With patience in it, it will fixe the name 23°
Of fearefull cuckold. O, that word ! Be quicke !
Mel. Then, joyne with me.
Amin. I dare not doe a sinne,
Or else I would. Be speedy.
Mel. Then, dare not fight with me ; for that's
a sin. —
His griefe distracts him. — Call thy thoughts
agen, 235
And to thyselfe pronounce the name of friend,
And see what that will worke. I will not fight.
Amin. You must.
Mel. [sheathing his sword] . I will be kild first.
Though my passions
Offered the like to you, tis not this earth
225 thine. D suggest3, thine own.
232-233 I . . . speedy. The division of lines is by editor.
Qq, F, D, B, end lines with me, would, speedy.
78 W$t 9Dai?ae0 ®rage&p [ACT m.
Shall buy my reason to it. Thinke awhile, 240
For you are (I must weepe when I speake that)
Almost besides yourselfe.
Amin. [sheathing his sword~\ . Oh, my soft tem-
per !
So many sweet words from thy sisters mouth,
I am afraid would make me take her to
Embrace, and pardon her. I am mad indeed *45
And know not what I doe. Yet have a care
Of me in what thou doest.
Mel. Why, thinks my friend
I will forget his honor ? or, to save
The bravery of our house, will lose his fame,
And feare to touch the throne of majestic ? *5°
Amin. A curse will follow that ; but rather
live
And suffer with me.
Mel. I will doe what worth
Shall bid me, and no more.
Amin. Faith, I am sicke,
And desperately I hope ; yet, leaning thus,
I feele a kind of ease.
Mel. Come, take agen 255
Your mirth about you.
Amin. I shall never doo't.
Mel. I warrant you ; looke up ; weele walke
together ;
Put thine arme here ; all shall be well agen ?
SCENE XL] je $&a£Ue$ rage&E 79
Amin. Thy love (oh, wretched !) I, thy love,
Melantius ;
Why I have nothing else.
Mel. Be merry then. 260
Exeunt.
Enter Melantius agen.
Mel. This worthy yong man may doe vio-
lence
Upon himselfe, but I have cherisht him
To my best power, and sent him smiling from
me,
To counterfeit againe. Sword, hold thy edge;
My heart will never faile me.
Enter Diphilus.
Diphilus ! 265
Thou comst as sent.
Diphilus. Yonder has bin such laughing.
Mel. Betwixt whom ?
Dipb. Why, our sister and the King.
I thought their spleenes would breake; they
laught us all
Out of the roome.
Mel. They must weepe, Diphilus.
Diph. Must they ?
Mel. They must. 270
Thou art my brother ; &, if I did beleeve
463 To my best power, £>3 et al. Qi, Qa, As well as I could.
Enter Diphilus. This follows Thou comst as sent, in Qz.
8o Wqt saces ®rage&i? [ACT m.
Thou hadst a base thought, I would rip it out,
Lie where it durst.
Diph. You should not ; I would first
Mangle myselfe and finde it.
Mel. That was spoke
According to our straine. Come, joyne thy
hands to mine, 275
And sweare a firmnesse to what project I
Shall lay before thee.
Dlph. You doe wrong us both :
People hereafter shall not say there past
A bond, more than our loves, to tie our lives
And deaths together. 280
Mel. It is as nobly said as I would wish.
Anon He tell you wonders : we are wrong'd.
Diph. But I will tell you now, weele right
ourselves.
Mel. Stay not : prepare the armour in my
house ;
And what friends you can draw unto our side, 285
Not knowing of the cause, make ready too.
Haste, Diph [ilus] , the time requires it, haste ! —
Exit Dipbilus.
I hope my cause is just ; I know my blood
Tels me it is ; and I will credit it.
To take revenge, and lose myself withall, 290
Were idle; and to scape impossible,
475 to mine. Ql, Th, B, omit.
SCENE II.] Qfyt tyW*** 1&W%tty 8 1
Without I had the fort, which (miserie ! )
Remaining in the hands of my old enemy,
Calianax — but I must have it. See,
Enter Calianax.
Where he comes shaking by me ! — Good my
lord, 295
Forget your spleene to me; I never wrong' d you,
But would have peace with every man.
Gal Tis well ;
If I durst fight, your tongue would lie at quiet.
MeL Y'are touchie without all cause.
Cat. Doe, mocke me.
MeL By mine honor, I speake truth.
CaL Honor ! where ist ? 300
Mel. See, what starts you make
Into your [idle] hatred to my love
And freedome to you. I come with resolution
To obtaine a sute of you.
Gal. A sute of me !
Tis very like it should be granted, sir. 305
Mel. Nay, goe not hence :
Tis this ; you have the keeping of the fort,
And I would wish you, by the love you ought
To beare unto me, to deliver it
Into my hands.
CaL I am in hope thou art mad, 310
To talke to me thus.
299 all. Mermaid ed. omits. 3oz idle. Only in Qi.
82 w$t $)ai?ae0 tltrageu^ [ACT m.
MeL But there is a reason
To move you to it : I would kill the King,
That wrong* d you and your daughter.
Gal. Out, traitor !
Mel. Nay, but stay : I cannot scape, the deed
once done,
Without I have this fort.
CaL And should I helpe thee?3is
Now thy treacherous mind betraies itselfe.
Mel. Come, delay me not ;
Give me a sudden answere, or already
Thy last is spoke ! Refuse not offered love
When it comes clad in secrets.
CaL [aside'] . If I say 3*°
I will not, he will kill me ; I doe see't
Writ in his lookes ; and should I say I will,
Heele run and tell the King. — I doe not shun
Your friendship, deere Melantius, but this cause
Is weighty : give me but an houre to thinke. 325
MeL Take it. — \Aside^\ I know this goes
unto the King ;
But I am arm'd. Exit Melantius.
CaL Methinks I feele myselfe
But twenty now agen. This fighting foole
Wants policie : I shall revenge my girle,
And make her red againe. I pray my legges 330
Will last that pace that I will carry them ;
I shall want breath before I find the King.
Exit.
ACTUS QUARTUS.
[SCENE I. An Apartment of Evadne. ~\
Enter Melantius, Evadne, and a Lady.
Melantius. Save you
Evadne. Save you, sweet brother.
Mel. In my blunt eie, methinks, you looke,
Evadne —
Evad. Come, you would make me blush.
Mel. I would, Evadne ;
I shall displease my ends else.
Evad. You shall, if you
Commend me; I am bashfull. Come, sir, how
doe
I looke ?
Mel. I would not have your women heare me
Break into commendations of you ; tis not
Seemely.
Evad. Goe waite me in the gallery.
Exeunt Ladies.
Now speake.
Mel. He locke the dore first.
Evad. Why ?
5 Commend. Qq, Command. Corrected by Th.
Exeunt Ladies. Qq, F, print this after the dore first. The in-
consistency between Ladies and a Lady at the opening of the act
has been corrected by modern editors.
84 tEtfie spaces tErage&E [ACT iv.
Mel. I will not have your guilded things, that
dance 10
In visitation with their Millan skins,
Choake up my businesse.
Evad. You are strangely dispos'd, sir.
Mel. Good madame, not to make you merry.
Evad. No, if you praise me, twill make me
sad.
Mel. Such a sad commendation I have for
you. 15
Evad. Brother,
The court has made you wittie, and learne to
riddle.
Mel. I praise the court for't : has it learnd
you nothing ?
Evad. Me!
Mel. I, Evadne, thou art young and han-
some,
A lady of a sweet complexion, 20
And such a flowing carriage that it cannot
Chuse but inflame a kingdome.
Evad. Gentle brother !
Mel. Tis yet in thy repentance, foolish
woman,
To make me gentle.
Evad. How is this ?
Mel. Tis base,
15 commendation, Q6. Qa, commendations.
SCENE I.] Qfyt $$&$)& 1&m%tty 85
And I could blush at these yeeres, through all »5
My honord scars, to come to such a parly.
Evad. I understand ye not.
Mel. You dare not, foole !
They that commit thy faults flie the remem-
brance.
Evad. My faults, sir ! I would have you
know, I care not
If they were written here, here in my forehead. 3°
Mel. Thy body is too little for the story ;
The lusts of which would fill another woman,
Though she had twins within her.
Evad. This is saucie :
Looke you intrude no more. There [lies] your
way.
Mel. Thou art my way, and I will tread upon
thee, 35
Till I find truth out.
Evad. What truth is that you looke for ?
Mel. Thy long-lost honour. Would the gods
had set mee
Rather to grapple with the plague, or stand
One of their loudest bolts ! Come, tell me
quickly ;
Doe it without inforcement, and take heed 40
You swell me not above my temper.
25 through. £>3, thorough.
34 There lies, £3. Qi, Q2, Theres.
86 Wfyt $DaE&e0 ®rage&£ [ACT iv
Evad. How sir !
Where got you this report ?
Mel. Where there was people,
In every place.
Evad. They and the seconds of it
Are base people ; beleeve them not ; they lied.
Mel. Do not play with mine anger ; doe not,
wretch ! 45
I come to know that desperate foole that drew
thee
From thy faire life : be wise and lay him open.
Evad. Unhand me, and learne manners ! such
another
Forgetfulnesse forfets your life.
Mel. Quench me this mighty humour, and
then tell me 5o
Whose whore you are; for you are one, I know it.
Let all mine honors perish but He find him,
Though he lie lockt up in thy bloud ! Be sudden ;
There is no facing it ; and be not flattered ;
The burnt aire where the Dog raignes is not
fouler 55
Than thy contagious name, till thy repentance
(If the gods grant thee any) purge thy sicknesse.
Evad. Begone ! you are my brother ; thats
your safety.
Mel. He be a wolfe first : tis, to be thy brother,
An infamy below the sinne of coward. 60
SCENE I.] ®^0 tytybtS ®m%tty 87
I am as far from being part of thee
As them art from thy vertue : seeke a kindred
Mongst sensuall beasts, and make a goat thy
brother ;
A goat is cooler. Will you tell me yet ?
Evad. If you stay here and raile thus, I shall
tell you 65
He ha you whipt. Get you to your command,
And there preach to your centinels, and tell them
What a brave man you are : I shall laugh at you.
Mel. Y'are growne a glorious whore ! Where
be your fighters ?
What mortall foole durst raise thee to this
daring, 70
And I alive ! By my just sword, h'ad safer
Bestrid a billow when the angry North
Plowes up the sea, or made Heavens fire his foe !
Worke me no hier. Will you discover yet ?
Evad. The fellowes mad. Sleepe, and speake
sense. 75
Mel. Force my swolne heart no further : I
would save thee.
Your great maintainers are not here ; they dare
not:
Would they were all, and armed ! I would
speake loud :
72 Bestrid. Qz, Bestride. 73 foe. Only in Qi. £2, food.
76—85 Force . . . canker. Prose in Qq and F.
88 Ww spaces tErage&p [ACT iv.
Heres one should thunder to Jem ! Will you tell
me ? —
Thou hast no hope to scape : he that dares most 8<?
And dams away his soule to doe thee service,
Will sooner snatch meat from a hungry lyon
Then come to rescue thee ; thou hast death
about thee —
Has undone thine honour, poyson'd thy vertue,
And, of a lovely rose, left thee a canker. 85
Evad. Let me consider.
Mel. Doe, whose childe thou wert,
Whose honour thou hast murdered, whose grave
opened,
And so puPd on the gods that in their justice
They must restore him flesh agen and life,
And raise his dry bones to revenge this scandall. 9°
Evad. The gods are not of my minde ; they
had better
Let Jem lie sweet still in the earth ; they'l stinke
here.
Mel. Doe you raise mirth out of my easinesse ?
Forsake me, then, all weaknesses of nature,
That make men women ! Speake, you whore,
speake truth, 95
Or, by the deare soule of thy sleeping father,
This sword shall be thy lover ! Tell, or He kill
thee;
And, when thou hast told all, thou wilt deserve it.
84 Has. F, H'as ; D, He has.
SCENE I.] Qfyt ty^t* ®m%tty 89
Evad. You will not murther me ?
Mel. No ; tis a. justice, and a noble one, 100
To put the light out of such base offenders.
Evad. Helpe !
Mel. By thy foule selfe, no humane helpe
shal help thee,
If thou criest ! When I have kild thee, as I
Have vow'd to doe, if thou confesse not, naked 105
As thou hast left thine honor, will I leave thee,
That on thy branded flesh the world may read
Thy blacke shame and my justice. Wilt thou
bend yet ?
Evad. Yes.
Mel. Up, and begin your storie.
Evad. Oh, I am miserable ! no
Mel. Tis true, thou art. Speake truth still.
Evad. I have offended : noble sir, forgive me !
Mel. With what secure slave ?
Evad. Doe not ask me, sir;
Mine owne remembrance is a miserie
Too mightie for me.
Mel. Do not fall back agen; 115
My sword's unsheathed yet.
Evad. What shall I doe ?
Mel. Be true, and make your fault lesse.
Evad. I dare not tell.
Mel. Tell, or He be this day a-killing thee.
Evad. Will you forgive me, then ?
90 w$t spaces 3frage&E [ACT iv.
Mel. Stay ; I must aske mine honor first. 120
I have too much foolish nature in me. Speake.
Evad. Is there none else here ?
Mel. None but a fearefull conscience ; thats
too many.
Who ist ?
Evad. Oh, heare me gently ! It was the
King.
Mel. No more. My worthy fathers and my
services 1*5
Are liberally rewarded ! King, I thanke thee !
For all my dangers and my wounds thou hast
paid me
In my owne metall : these are souldiers
thanks! —
How long have you lived thus, Evadne ?
Evad. Too long.
Mel. Too late you find it. Can you be sorry ? 130
Evad. Would I were halfe as blamelesse !
Mel. Evadne, thou wilt to thy trade againe.
Evad. First to my grave.
Mel. Would gods thou hadst beene so
blest !
Dost thou not hate this King now ? prethe hate
him.
129—130 Too . . . sorry.
Ql, Evad. Too long, too late I finde it.
Mel. Can you be very sorry ?
SCENE i.] {E^e ^a^De0 ®rage&£ 91
Could'st thou not curse him ? I command thee,
curse him ; 135
Curse till the gods heare, and deliver him
To thy just wishes. Yet I feare, Evadne,
You had rather play your game out.
Evad. No ; I feele
Too many sad confusions here, to let in
Any loose flame hereafter. 140
Mel. Dost thou not feele amongst all those,
one brave anger
That breakes out nobly and directs thine arme
To kill this base King ?
Evad. All the gods forbid it !
Mel. No, all the gods require it !
They are dishonored in him.
Evad. Tis too fearefull. 145
Mel. Y'are valiant in his bed, and bold
enough
To be a stale whore, and have your madams
name
Discourse for groomes and pages ; and hereafter,
When his coole majestic hath laid you by,
To be at pension with some needie sir 150
For meat and courser cloathes ; thus far you
know
No feare. Come, you shall kill him.
135 Could *st thou not curse him f Qi , Has sunke thy faire soule.
151 know. Qi, had. £3, knew.
92 $t spaces raget)£ [ACT iv.
Evad. Good sir !
Mel. An twere to kisse him dead, thoudst
smoother him :
Be wise, and kill him. Canst thou live, and
know
What noble minds shall make thee, see thyselfe^S
Found out with every finger, made the shame
Of all successions, and in this great ruine
Thy brother and thy noble husband broken ?
Thou shalt not live thus. Kneele and sweare to
helpe me,
When I shall call thee to it; or, by all 160
Holy in Heaven and earth, thou shalt not live
To breath a full houre longer ; not a thought !
Come, tis a righteous oath. Give me thy
hand[s],
And, both to Heaven held up, swear, by that
wealth
This lustfull theefe stole from thee, when I say it, 165
To let his foule soule out.
Evad. Here I sweare it ; [Kneels.']
And, all you spirits of abused ladies,
Helpe me in this performance !
Mel. [raising her] . Enough ! This must be
knowne to none
But you and I, Evadne, not to your lord, 17°
155 make tbet, see tbyselfe. Qa, make thee see thyselfe.
163 Aantts, Edd. 1778.
SCENE I.] fyt ^3^000 U%tty 93
Though he be wise and noble, and a fellow
Dares step as farre into a worthy action
As the most daring, I, as farre as justice.
Aske me not why. Farewell. Exit Mel\_antius\ .
Evad. Would I could say so to my blacke
disgrace ! 175
Oh, where have I beene all this time? how
friended
That I should lose myselfe thus desperately,
And none for pittie shew me how I wandred ?
There is not in the compasse of the light
A more unhappy creature : sure I am mon-
strous; 1 80
For I have done those follies, those mad mis-
chiefes,
Would dare a woman. Oh, my loaden soule,
Be not so cruell to me ; choake not up
The way to my repentance !
Enter Amintor.
Oh, my lord !
Amin. How now ?
Evad. My much abused lord ! [KneelsJ]
Amin. This cannot be ! 185
Evad. I doe not kneele to live; I dare not
hope it ;
The wrongs I did are greater. Looke upon me,
Though I appeare with all my faults.
Enter Amintor. In Qz this follows 1. 183.
94 vC^ Spa^wfltf (E'ragfllE [ACT iv.
Amin. Stand up.
This is a new way to beget more sorrow :
Heaven knowes I have too many. Doe not
mocke me : 190
Though I am tame and bred up with my
wrongs,
Which are my foster-brothers, I may leape,
Like a hand-wolf, into my naturall wildnesse,
And doe an outrage : prethee, doe not mocke me.
Evad. My whole life is so leaprous, it infects 195
All my repentance. I would buy your pardon,
Though at the highest set, even with my life 2
That sleight contrition, that [Js] no sacrifice
For what I have committed.
Amln. Sure, I dazle :
There cannot be a faith in that foule woman, 200
That knowes no god more mighty than her
mischiefes.
Thou doest still worse, still number on thy faults,
To presse my poore heart thus. Can I beleeve
Theres any seed of vertue in that woman
Left to shoot up, that dares goe on in sinne, 205
Knowne, and so knowne as thine is ? Oh,
Evadne !
Would there were any safetie in thy sex,
189 a. Only in Qi. Qa, no. sorrow. Ql, sorrows.
198 that's no, Q6-B. Qi, Qa, that ; no. £3, Q4» f^ats > no-
Oc. thats no.
SCENE I.] fty tyW*t8 m%tty 95
That I might put a thousand sorrowes off,
And credit thy repentance ! but I must not.
Thou hast brought me to that dull calamitie, aio
To that strange misbeleefe of all the world
And all things that are in it, that I feare
I shall fall like a tree, and find my grave,
Only remembring that I grieve.
Evad. My lord,
Give me your griefes ; you are an innocent, 215
A soule as white as Heaven ; let not my sinnes
Perish your noble youth. I doe not fall here
To shadow by dissembling with my teares
(As all say women can) or to make lesse
What my hot will hath done, which Heaven &
you aao
Knowes to be tougher than the hand of time
Can cut from mans remembrance; no, I doe
not;
I doe appeare the same, the same Evadne,
Drest in the shames I liv'd in, the same mon-
ster.
But these are names of honour to what I am ; 2*5
I doe present myself the foulest creature,
Most poisonous, dangerous, and despisde of men,
Lerna ere bred or Nilus. I am hell,
Till you, my deare lord, shoot your light into me,
The beames of your forgivenesse ; I am soule-
sicke, 430
96 ®tir spaces {Eragefcp [ACT iv.
And wither with the feare of one condemned,
Till I have got your pardon.
Amin. Rise, Evadne ;
Those heavenly powers that put this good into
thee
Grant a continuance of it ! I forgive thee ;
Make thyselfe worthy of it, and take heed, 235
Take heed, Evadne, this be serious.
Mocke not the powers above that can and dare
Give thee a great example of their justice
To all insuing eies, if thou plai'st
With thy repentance, the best sacrifice. 240
Evad. I have done nothing good to win be-
leefe,
My life hath been so faithlesse. All the crea-
tures,
Made for Heavens honors, have their ends,
and good ones,
All but the cousening crocodiles, false women :
They reigne here like those plagues, those kill-
ing sores, 245
Men pray against j and when they die, like tales
111 told and unbeleev'd, they passe away,
And goe to dust forgotten. But, my lord,
Those short daies I shall number to my rest
(As many must not see me) shall, though too
late, 250
239 eies. W, D, B, ages.
SCENE L] t $$S$)t8 W%tty 97
Though in my evening, yet perceive a will,
Since I can doe no good, because a woman,
Reach constantly at something that is neere it :
I will redeeme one minute of my age,
Or, like another Niobe, He weepe 255
Till I am water.
Amin. I am now dissolved ;
My frozen soule melts. May each sin thou hast
Finde a new mercy ! Rise ; I am at peace.
Hadst thou beene thus, thus excellently good,
Before that devill-king tempted thy frailty, »6o
Sure thou hadst made a star. Give me thy hand :
From this time I will know thee ; and, as far
As honor gives me leave, be thy Amintor.
When we meet next, I will salute thee fairely,
And pray the gods to give thee happy daies ; 165
My charity shall goe along with thee,
Though my embraces must be far from thee.
I should ha' kild thee, but this sweet repentance
Lockes up my vengeance ; for which thus I kisse
thee —
The last kisse we must take : and would to
Heaven 27°
The holy priest that gave our hands together
Had given us equall vertues ! Goe, Evadne ;
The gods thus part our bodies. Have a care
My honour falles no farther : I am well, then.
Evad. All the deare joys here, and above
hereafter, *75
98 w$t spaces? tErage&E [ACT iv.
Crowne thy faire soule ! Thus I take leave, my
lord;
And never shall you see the foule Evadne,
Till she have tried all honoured meanes that may
Set her in rest and wash her staines away.
Exeunt.
[SCENE II. A hall in the Palace.}
Banquet. Enter King, Calianax. Ho boy es play within.
King. I cannot tell how I should credit this
From you that are his enemie.
Calianax. I am sure
He said it to me ; and He justifie it
What way he dares oppose — but with my
sword.
King. But did he breake, without all circum-
stance,
To you, his foe, that he would have the fort,
To kill me and then scape I
Cal. If he denie it,
He make him blush.
King. It sounds incredibly.
Cal. I, so does everything I say of late.
King. Not so, Calianax.
Cal. Yes, I should sit
Mute, whilst a rogue with strong armes cuts
your throat.
SCENE II.] f&ty tyWfit* 1&W%tty 99
King. Well, I will trie him ; and, if this be
true,
He pawn my life He find it ; if Jt be false
And that you cloath your hate in such a lie,
You shall hereafter doate in your owne house, 15
Not in the court.
Gal. Why, if it be a lie,
Mine eares are false, for He be sworne I heard
it.
Old men are good for nothing : you were best
Put me to death for hearing, and free him
For meaning it. You would a trusted me 20
Once, but the time is altered.
King. And will still,
Where I may doe with justice to the world ;
You have no witnesse.
CaL Yes, myselfe.
King. No more,
I meane, there were that heard it.
CaL How ? no more !
Would you have more ? why, am not I enough 25
To hang a thousand rogues ?
King. But so you may
Hang honest men too, if you please.
CaL I may !
Tis like I will doe so : there are a hundred
Will sweare it for a need too, if I say it —
13 '/''• Q^ift.
i oo t spaces rage&i? [ACT iv.
King. Such witnesses we need not.
Cal. And tis hard 30
If my word cannot hang a boisterous knave.
King. Enough. — Where's Strato ?
Enter Strat[p].
Strato. Sir ?
King. Why, wheres all the company ? Call
Amintor in ;
Evadne. Wheres my brother and Melantius ?
Bid him come too, and Diphilus. Call all 35
That are without there. — (Exit Strat[o~\.} If
he should desire
The combat of you, tis not in the power
Of all our lawes to hinder it, unlesse
We meane to quit 'em.
Cal. Why, if you doe thinke
Tis fit an old man and a counsellor 40
To fight for what he saies, then you may grant it.
Enter Amint\pr~\, Evad\ne~\, Melant\_ius~\y Dipb-
\ilus\y Lisip\_pus]y Cle[pn~\, Stra\_to, and~\
Diag [oras] .
King. Come, sirs ! — Amintor, thou art yet a
bridegroome,
And I will use thee so ; thou shalt sit downe. —
Evadne, sit ; — and you, Amintor, too ;
This banquet is for you, sir. — Who has brought 45
A merry tale about him to raise laughter
Enter Strato. In Qz this follows Sir.
ii.] yt spaces? rased 101
Amongst our wine ? Why, Strato, where art
thou ?
Thou wilt chop out with them unseasonably,
When I desire 'em not.
Stra. Tis my ill lucke, sir, so to spend them,
then. 50
King. Reach me a boule of wine. — Melan-
tius, thou
Art sad.
\_Melantius. ~\ I should be, sir, the merriest here,
But I ha nere a story of mine own
Worth telling at this time.
King. Give me the wine. —
Melantius, I am now considering 55
How easie twere for any man we trust
To poyson one of us in such a boule.
Mel. I thinke it were not hard, sir, for a
knave.
Cat. ^aside\ . Such as you are.
King. I faith, twere easie. It becomes us
well 60
To get plaine dealing men about ourselves ;
Such as you all are here. — Amintor, to thee ;
And to thy faire Evadne.
Mel. (aside). Have you thought
Of this, Calianax ?
Cal. Yes, marry, have I.
52 Melantius. Only Qi. Qa-F,
102 yt $Dai?ae0 trage&p [ACT iv.
Mel. And whats your resolution ?
Cal. Ye shall have it — 65
[jfside.~\ Soundly, I warrant you.
King. Reach to Amintor, Strato.
Amintor. Here, my love :
\_Drinks, and bands the cup to Evadne."]
This wine will doe thee wrong, for it will set
Blushes upon thy cheekes ; and, till thou dost
A fault, twere pitty.
King. Yet I wonder much 70
[At] the strange desperation of these men
That dare attempt such acts here in our state :
He could not scape that did it.
Mel. Were he knowne,
Unpossible.
King. It would be knowne, Melantius.
Mel. It ought to be. If he got then away, 75
He must weare all our lives upon his sword :
He need not flie the island ; he must leave
No one alive.
King. No; I should thinke no man
Could kill me and scape cleare, but that old man.
Cal. But I ! Heaven blesse me ! I ! should
I, my liege ? 80
King. I doe not think thou wouldst, but yet
thou mightst,
For thou hast in thy hands the meanes to scape,
71 At, Th-B. Qq, F, Of.
SCENE II.]
By keeping of the fort. — He has, Melantius,
And he has kept it well.
Mel. From cobwebs, sir;
Tis clean swept : I can find no other art 85
In keeping of it now : twas nere besieg'd
Since he commanded.
Gal. I shall be sure
Of your good word: but I have kept it safe
From such as you.
Mel. Keepe your ill temper in ;
I speake no malice ; had my brother kept it, 90
I should ha sed as much.
King. You are not merry.
Brother, drinke wine. Sit you all still ? — (Aside)
Calianax,
I cannot trust this ; 1 have throwne out words,
That would have fetcht warme blood upon the
cheekes
Of guilty men, and he is never mov'd ; 95
He knowes no such thing.
Cal. Impudence may scape,
When feeble vertue is accus'd.
King. A must,
If he were guilty, feele an alteration
At this our whisper, whilst we point at him :
You see he does not.
Cal. Let him hang himselfe ; 100
What care I what he does ? this he did say.
93 this, D. Qq, F, thus.
104
[ACT iv.
King. Melan [tius] , you can easily conceive
What I have meant; for men that are in fault
Can subtly apprehend when others aime
At what they doe amisse : but I forgive
Freely before this man, — Heaven doe so too!
I will not touch thee, so much as with shame
Of telling it. Let it be so no more.
Cal. Why, this is very fine !
Mel. I cannot tell
What tis you meane ; but I am apt enough
Rudely to thrust into [an] ignorant fault.
But let me know it : happily tis nought
But misconstruction ; and, where I am cleare,
I will not take forgivenesse of the gods,
Much less of you.
King . Nay, if you stand so stifle,
I shall call back my mercy.
Mel. I want smoothnes
To thanke a man for pardoning of a crime
I never knew.
King. Not to instruct your knowledge, but
to show you
My eares are everywhere ; you meant to kill me,
And get the fort to scape.
Mel. Pardon me, sir;
My bluntnesse will be pardoned. You preserve
A race of idle people here about you,
III an. Inserted by Th.
105
no
115
SCENE ii.]
105
Facers and talkers, to defame the worth
Of those that doe things worthy. The man that
uttered this "5
Had perisht without food, bee't who it will,
But for this arme, that fenst him from the foe :
And if I thought you gave a faith to this,
The plainnesse of my nature would speake more.
Give me a pardon (for you ought to doo't) 130
To kill him that spake this.
Cat. [aside] . I, that will be
The end of all ; then I am fairely paide
For all my care and service.
Mel. That old man,
Who cals me enemy, and of whom I
(Though I will never match my hate so low) 135
Have no good thought, would yet, I thinke,
excuse me,
And sweare he thought me wrong' d in this.
CaL Who, I ?
Thou shamelesse fellow ! didst thou not speake
to me
Of it thyselfe ?
Mel. O, then it came from him !
Cat. From me ! who should it come from but
from me ? 140
Mel. Nay, I beleeve your malice is enough :
But I ha lost my anger. — Sir, I hope
You are well satisfied.
124 Facers, Qi. Qa et a/., Eaters.
io6 Wqt 3&a£&£0 ®rage&t> [ACT iv.
King. Lisip [pus] , cheare
Amintor & his lady : theres no sound
Comes from you; I will come and doo't myselfe. 145
Amin. You have done already, sir, for me, I
thanke you.
King. Melantius, I doe credit this from him,
How sleight so ere you mak't.
MeL Tis strange you should.
Cat. Tis strange a should beleeve an old
mans word
That never lied ins life !
Mel. I talke not to thee. — 150
Shall the wilde words of this distempered man,
Franticke with age and sorrow, make a breach
Betwixt your majestic and me ? Twas wrong
To harken to him; but to credit him,
As much at least as I have power to beare. 155
But pardon me, (whilst I speake onely truth,
I may commend myselfe) I have bestowd
My carelesse blood with you, and should be loth
To thinke an action that would make me lose
That and my thankes too. When I was a boy, 1 60
I thrust myselfe into my countries cause
And did a deed that pluckt five yeares from time
And stil'd me man then. And for you, my King,
Your subjects all have fed by vertue of
My arme; this sword of mine hath plowd the
ground 165
SCENE II.] f&ty tyWflt8 ®W%tty IOJ
And reapt the fruit in peace ;
And you yourselfe have liv'd at home in ease.
So terrible .1 grew, that without swords
My name hath fetcht you conquest : and my heart
And limmes are still the same, my will as great 170
To doe you service. Let me not be paid
With such a strange distrust.
King. Melant [ius] ,
I held it great injustice to beleeve
Thine enemie, and did not ; if I did,
I doe not; let that satisfie. — What, strucke 175
With sadnesse all ? More wine !
Cat. A few fine words
Have overthrowne my truth. Ah, th'art a vil-
laine !
Mel. (aside). Why, thou wert better let me
have the fort :
Dotard, I will disgrace thee thus for ever ;
There shall no credit lie upon thy words : 180
Thinke better, and deliver it.
Cat. My leige,
Hees at me now agen to doe it. — Speake ;
Denie it, if thou canst. — Examine him
Whilst he is hot, for if hee coole agen,
He will forsweare it.
King. This is lunacie, 185
I hope, Melantius.
177 Ah, F. Qq, A.
io8 gnje saces ®rage&£ [ACT iv.
Mel. He hath lost himselfe
Much, since his daughter mist the happinesse
My sister gaind ; and, though he call me foe,
I pittie him.
Cat. Pittie ! a pox upon you !
Mel. Marke his disordered words : and at the
maske J9°
Diagoras knows he rag'd and raild at me,
And cald a lady " whore," so innocent
She understood him not. But it becomes
Both you and me too to forgive distraction :
Pardon him, as I doe.
Cat. He not speake for thee, *95
For all thy cunning. — If you will be safe,
Chop off his head, for there was never knowne
So impudent a rascall.
King. Some that love him
Get him to bed. Why, pittie should not let
Age make itselfe contemptible ; wee must be 200
All old. Have him away.
Mel. \asidi\. Calianax,
The King beleeves you; come, you shall go home
And rest ; you ha done well. Youle give it up
When I have us'd you thus a month, I hope.
Cal. Now, now, tis plaine, sir; he does
move me still : 205
189 Pittie. £2, A pittie. 191 Diagoras . . . at me. Qi,
Qa, print Mel. before this line.
SCENE II.] f&ty tytytitti f&Wi%tty IO<)
He sales he knowes He give him up the fort,
When he has usd me thus a month. I am mad,
Am I not, still ?
Omnes. Ha, ha, ha !
Cal. I shall be mad indeed, if you doe thus.
Why should you trust a sturdie fellow there aio
(That has no vertue in him, als in his sword)
Before me ? Doe but take his weapons from
him,
And hees an asse ; and I am a very foole,
Both with him and without him, as you use me.
Omnes. Ha, ha, ha ! ai$
King. Tis well, Cal[ianax] : but if you use
This once agen, I shall intreat some other
To see your offices be well discharg'd. —
Be merry, gentlemen. — It growes somewhat
late. —
Amintor, thou wouldst be a-bed agen. aao
Amin. Yes, sir.
King. And you, Evadne. — Let me take
Thee in my armes, Melantius, & beleeve
Thou art, as thou deservest to be, my friend
Still and for ever. — Good Cal[ianax],
Sleepe soundly ; it will bring thee to thyselfe. "5
Exeunt omnes. Manent Mel\antius\ & Cal\tanax\.
Cal. Sleepe soundly ! I sleepe soundly now,
I hope ;
214 with him and 'without him. D, B, with 'em and without 'em.
1 1 o qt $)apue0 rage&£ [ ACT iv.
I could not be thus else. — How dar'st thou
stay
Alone with me, knowing how thou hast used me ?
Mel. You cannot blast me with your tongue,
and thats
The strongest part you have about you.
Cal I 230
Doe looke for some great punishment for this ;
For I begin to forget all my hate,
And tak't unkindly that mine enemie
Should use me so extraordinarily scurvily.
Mel. I shall melt too, if you begin to take 235
Unkindnesses : I never meant you hurt.
Cal. Thoult anger me agen. Thou wretched
roague,
Meant me no hurt ! disgrace me with the King !
Lose all my offices ! This is no hurt,
Is it ? I prethee, what dost thou call hurt ? 240
Mel. To poyson men, because they love me
not;
To call the credit of mens wives in question ;
To murder children betwixt me and land ;
This I call hurt.
Cal. All this thou thinkst is sport,
For mine is worse ; but use thy will with me, 245
For betwixt griefe and anger I could crie.
Mel. Be wise, then, and be safe ; thou mai'st
revenge —
SCENE II.] ^f $$Wbt& W%tty 1 1 1
CaL I, o th' King. I would revenge of thee.
MeL That you must plot yourselfe.
CaL I am a fine plotter.
MeL The short is, I will hold thee with the
King 250
In this perplexity, till peevishnesse
And thy disgrace have laid thee in thy grave :
But if thou wilt deliver up the fort,
He take thy trembling body in my armes,
And beare thee over dangers : thou shalt hold 255
Thy wonted state.
CaL If I should tell the King,
Canst thou deni't agen ?
MeL Trie, and beleeve.
CaL Nay, then, thou canst bring anything
about.
[Melantius], thou shalt have the fort.
MeL Why, well.
Here let our hate be buried ; and this hand 260
Shall right us both. Give me thy aged brest
To compasse.
CaL Nay, I doe not love thee yet ;
I cannot well endure to looke on thee ;
And if I thought it were a curtesie,
Thou shouldst not have it. But I am disgrac't ; 265
My offices are to be taen away ;
And if I did but hold this fort a day,
259 Melantius. Only Qi.
1 2 Wyt 9agfte0 ®ragrt)E [ACT iv.
I doe beleeve the King would take it from me,
And give it thee, things are so strangely carried.
Nere thanke me for't j but yet the King shall
know 27^
There was some such thing in't I told him of,
And that I was an honest man.
Mel. Heele buy
That knowledge very deerely.
Enter Dipbilus.
Diph [ilus] ,
What newes with thee ?
Dipbilus. This were a night indeed
To doe it in ; the King hath sent for her. 275
Mel. Shee shall performe it, then. — Goe,
Diph [ilus] ,
And take from this good man, my worthy friend,
The fort ; heele give it thee.
Diph. Ha you got that ?
Gal. Art thou of the same breed ? Canst thou
denie
This to the King too ?
Dipb. With a confidence 280
As great as his.
Cal. Faith, like enough.
Mel. Away, and use him kindly.
Cal. Touch not me;
I hate the whole straine. If thou follow me
A great way off, He give thee up the fort ;
And hang yourselves.
SCENE II.]
Mel. Begone !
Diph. Hees finely wrought. 285
Exeunt Cal\tanax and~\ Dipb \ilus\ .
MeL This is a night, spight of astronomers,
To doe the deed in. I will wash the staine
That rests upon our house off with his bloud.
Enter Amin tor.
Amin. Melantius, now assist me; if thou
beest
That which thou saist, assist me. I have lost 290
All my distempers and have found a rage
So pleasing. Helpe me !
Mel. [aside] . Who can see him thus,
And not sweare vengeance ? — Whats the mat-
ter, friend ?
Amin. Out with thy sword; and, hand in
hand with mee,
Rush to the chamber of this hated King, 295
And sinke him with the weight of all his sinnes
To hell for ever.
Mel. Twere a rash attempt,
Not to be done with safety. Let your reason
Plot your revenge, and not your passion.
Amin. If thou refusest me in these extremes, 300
Thou art no friend. He sent for her to me ;
By Heaven, to me, myselfe ! and, I must tell
7e>
I love her as a stranger : there is worth
1 14 &e spaces rage&£ [ACT iv.
In that vild woman, worthy things, Melantius,
And she repents. He doo't myselfe alone, 3°5
Though I be slaine. Farewell.
Mel. [aside]. Heele overthrow
My whole designe with madnes. — Amintor,
Thinke what thou doest : I dare as much as
valour :
But tis the King, the King, the King, Amintor,
With whom thou fightest ! — (Aside?) I know
hees honest, 310
And this will worke with him.
Amin. I cannot tell
What thou hast said ; but thou hast charm' d my
sword
Out of my hand, and left me shaking here,
Defenselesse.
MeL I will take it up for thee.
Amin. What a wild beast is uncollected man ! 315
The thing that we call honor beares us all
Headlong unto sinne, and yet itselfe is nothing.
Mel. Alas, how variable are thy thoughts !
Amin. Just like my fortunes. I was run to
that
I purposed to have chid thee for. Some plot, 3*0
I did distrust, thou hadst against the King,
By that old fellowes carriage. But take heede ;
Theres not the least limbe growing to a king
But carries thunder in't.
SCENE II.] faty ^3^000 Gtage&l? 1 15
Mel. I have none
Against him.
Amin. Why, come then, and still remember 325
Wee may not thinke revenge.
Mel. I will remember.
Exeunt.
ACTUS 5
[SCENE I. A Room in the Palace.]
Enter Evadne and a Gentleman \oftbe Bed-chamber.]
Evadne. Sir, is the King a-bed ?
Gentleman. Madame, an houre agoe.
Evad. Give me the key then, and let none
be neere.
Tis the Kings pleasure.
Gent. I understand you, madame; would
twere mine !
I must not wish good rest unto your ladiship.
Evad. You talke, you talke.
Gent. Tis all I dare doe, madame ; but the
King
Will wake, and then, [methinks — ]
Evad. Saving your imagination, pray, good
night, sir.
Gent. A good night be it then, and a long one,
madam.
I am gone. Exit.
Evad. The night growes horrible ; and all
about me,
Like my blacke purpose. Oh, the conscience
King abed.
8 metbinks. Only Qi. 1 1 Exit, so Qi, Qa. Q3~F, mark
no exit. W, D, B, begin a new scene here.
SCENE i.] qt SpaEDe* {Erased 1 1 7
Of 2. lost virgin, whither wilt thou pull me ?
To what things dismall as the depth of hell 15
Wilt thou provoke me ? Let no woman dare
From this houre be disloyall, if her heart be
flesh,
If she have blood and can feare. Tis a daring
Above that desperate fooles that left his peace,
And went to sea to fight : tis so many sins, ao
An age cannot repent 'm ; and so great
The gods want mercy for. Yet I must through
'm:
I have begun a slaughter on my honour,
And I must end it there. — A sleepes. Good
Heavens !
Why give you peace to this untemperate beast, 15
That hath so long transgrest you ? I must kill
him,
And I will doo't bravely : the meere joy
Tels me, I merit in it. Yet I must not
Thus tamely doe it as he sleepes — that were
To rock him to another world : my vengeance 30
Shall take, him waking, and then lay before him
The number of his wrongs and punishments :
He shape his sins like Furies, till I waken
His evill angell, his sicke conscience,
14 -virgin. Qi, B, virtue.
zi repent. Only Qi. Q2 et al.t prevent.
24 Good Heavens! Qi, B, Oh God!
1 1 8 tEfje lapses {Erases [ACT v.
And then He strick him dead. King, by your
leave — Ties bis armes to the bed. 35
I dare not trust your strength ; you [r] grace
and I
Must grapple upon even tearmes no more.
So, if he raile me not from my resolution,
I shall be strong enough. — My lord, the King !
My lord ! — A sleepes as if he meant to wake 40
No more. — My lord ! — Is he not dead already ?
Sir;! My lord !
King. Whose that ?
Evad. Oh, you sleepe soundly, sir !
King. My deare Evadne,
I have been dreaming of thee : come to bed.
Evad. I am come at length, sir; but how
welcome ? 45
King. What prettie new device is this,
Evadne ?
What, doe you tie me to you ? By my love,
This is a queint one. Come, my deare, and
kisse me ;
He be thy Mars ; to bed, my queene of love :
38-39 So, if ... the King ! Qi reads : —
So if he raile me not from my resolution,
As I beleeve I shall not, I shall fit him.
My lord, the King ! etc.
39-42 The arrangement of the verse follows D and Th. Qq,
F, B, end the verse lines with enough . . . sleepes . . . lord
. . . lord.
SCENE i.] ^e ^a^Deflf tErage&E 1 19
Let us be caught together, that the gods 50
May see and envie our embraces.
Evad. Stay, sir, stay ;
You are too hot, and I have brought you physick
To temper your high veines.
King. Prethee, to bed, then ; let me take it
warme ;
There thou shalt know the state of my body
better. 55
Evad. I know you have a surfeited foule
body;
And you must bleed. [Draws a knife.~\
King. Bleed !
Evad. I, you shall bleed. Lie still ; and, if
the devill,
Your lust, will give you leave, repent. This
steele
Comes to redeeme the honor that you stole, 60
King, my faire name ; which nothing but thy
death
Can an s were to the world.
King. How's this, Evadne ?
Evad. I am not she; nor beare I in this breast
So much cold spirit to be cald a woman •
I am a tiger ; I am anything 65
That knowes not pittie. Stirre not: if thou
doest,
He take thee unprepar'd, thy feares upon thee,
1 20 W$t spaces ageap [ACT v.
That make thy sins looke double, and so send
thee
(By my revenge, I will!) to looke those tor-
ments
Prepared for such blacke soules. 70
King. Thou doest not meane this; tis im-
possible ;
Thou art too sweet and gentle.
Evad. No, I am not ;
I am as foule as thou art, and can number
As many such hels here. I was once faire,
Once I was lovely ; not a blowing rose 75
More chastly sweet, till thou, thou, thou foule
canker,
(Stirre not) didst poison me. I was a world of
vertue
Till your curst court and you (Hell blesse you
for't)
With your temptations on temptations
Made me give up mine honour; for which, King, 80
I am come to kill thee.
King. No !
Evad. I am.
King. Thou art not!
I prethee speake not these things: thou art
gentle,
And wert not meant thus rugged.
Evad. Peace, and heare me.
SCENE I.] Qfyt ^^t& t!tage&£ 121
Stirre nothing but your tongue, and that for
mercy
To those above us ; by whose lights I vow, 85
Those blessed fires that shot to see our sinne,
If thy hot soule had substance with thy bloud,
I would kill that too, which being past my steele,
My tongue shall reach. Thou art a shamelesse
villaine ;
A thing out of the overcharge of nature, 90
Sent, like a thicke cloud, to disperse a plague
Upon weake catching women ; such a tyrant
That for his lust would sell away his subjects,
I, all his Heaven hereafter !
King. Heare, Evadne,
Thou soule of sweetnesse, heare ! I am thy King. 95
Evad. Thou art my shame ! Lie still ; theres
none about you,
Within your cries ; all promises of safety
Are but deluding dreames. Thus, thus, thou
foule man,
Thus I begin my vengeance ! Stabs him.
King. Hold, Evadne !
I do command thee hold.
Evad. I doe not meane, sir, 100
To part so fairely with you ; we must change
More of these love trickes yet.
King. What bloudie villaine
Provok't thee to this murther?
122 $t spaces rageto£ [ACTV.
Evad. Thou, thou monster !
King. Oh!
Evad. Thou keptst me brave at court, and
whorde me, King; 105
Then married me to a young noble gentleman,
And whorde me still.
King. Evadne, pittie me !
Evad. Hell take me, then ! This for my lord
Amintor !
This for my noble brother ! And this stroke
For the most wrong' d of women ! Kits him.
King. Oh ! I die. "o
Evad. Die all our faults together ! I forgive
thee. Exit.
Enter two [Gentlemen~\ of the Bed-chamber.
ist Gentleman. Come, now shees gone, lets
enter; the King expects it and will be angry.
2nd Gentleman. Tis a fine wench ; weele have
a snap at her one of these nights as she goes 115
from him.
ist Gent. Content. How quickly hee had
done with her ! I see kings can do no more that
way than other mortall people.
2d Gent. How fast he is ! I cannot heare him 1*0
breathe.
ist Gent. Either the tapers give a feeble light,
Or hee lookes very pale.
Exit. Qz, Exeunt.
SCENE i.] i&ty tywfit* {Erage&£ 1 23
2d Gent. And so he does :
Pray Heaven he be well ; lets looke — Alas !
Hees stiffe, wounded, and dead ! Treason, trea-
son ! 145
1st Gent. Run forth and call.
2d Gent. Treason, treason !
Exit [Second] Gent\_leman~].
ist Gent. This will be laid on us :
Who can beleeve a woman could doe this ?
Enter Clean and Lisippus.
Clean. How now ! wheres the traitor ?
ist Gent. Fled, fled away ! but there her woe-
full act 130
Lies still.
Clean. Her act ! a woman !
Lysippus. Wheres the body ?
ist Gent. There.
Lys. Farewell, thou worthy man ! there were
two bonds
That tied our loves, a brother and a king,
The least of which might fetch a floud of teares 5135
But such the miserie qf greatnesse is,
They have no time to mourne ; then, pardon me !
Sirs, which way went she ?
Enter Strata.
Strata. Never follow her ;
For she, alas ! was but the instrument.
Exit Gentleman. In Qz, after 1. ia6.
1 24 W$t spaces tEragrtJi? [ACT v.
Newes is now brought in that Melantius 140
Has got the fort, and stands upon the wall,
And with a loud voice cals those few that passe
At this dead time of night, delivering
The innocence of this act.
Lys. Gentlemen,
I am your King.
Strat. We doe acknowledge it. 145
Lys. I would I were not ! Follow all ; for this
Must have a sudden stop. Exeunt.
[SCENE II. Before the Fort.'}
Enter Me Ian t \_ius~} y Diph[ilus, and} Cal\_ianax~\, on
the Walls.
Melantius. If the dull people can beleeve I
am arm'd,
(Be constant, Diph[ilus],) now we have time
Either to bring our banisht honors home,
Or create new ones in our ends.
Diphilus. I feare not ;
My spirit lies not that way. — Courage, Cal-
ianax ! 5
Calianax. Would I had any ! You should
quickly know it.
Mel. Speake to the people ; thou art eloquent.
Gal. Tis a fine eloquence to come to the gal-
lowes :
SCENE II.] Qfyt $$*$*& 1&W%tty 12$
You were born to be my end ; the devill take
you !
Now must I hang for companie. Tis strange, 10
I should be old and neither wise nor valiant.
Enter Lisip]j>us\y Diag\orai\y Cleon , Strat[o, and]
Guard.
Lysippus. See where he stands, as boldly con-
fident
As if he had his full command about him.
Strata. He lookes as if he had the better cause,
sir;
Under your gracious pardon, let me speake it. 15
Though he be mighty-spirited and forward
To all great things, to all things of that danger
Worse men shake at the telling of, yet certainly
I doe beleeve him noble, and this action
Rather puld on then sought : his mind was ever ao
As worthy as his hand.
Lys. Tis my feare too.
Heaven forgive all ! — Summon him, Lord
Cleon.
Cleon. Ho, from the wals there !
Mel. Worthy Cleon, welcome :
We could have wisht you here, lord ; you are
honest.
Cal. (aside). Well, thou art as flattering a
knave, though 25
I dare not tell thee so —
1 26 Wqt spaces ®rage&2 [ACT v.
Lys. Melantius !
Mel. Sir?
Lys. I am sorry that we meet thus ; our old
love
Never requir'd such distance. Pray [to] Heaven,
You have not left yourselfe and sought this
safety
More out of feare than honor ! You have lost 30
A noble master; which your faith, Melantius,
Some thinke might have preserved ; yet you
know best.
Cal. \aside\. When time was, I was mad*
some that dares fight,
I hope will pay this rascall.
Mel. Royall young man ; those teares looke
lovely on thee : 35
Had they beene shed for a deserving one,
They had beene lasting monuments. Thy bro-
ther,
WhiPst he was good, I cald him King, and
serv'd him
With that strong faith, that most unwearied
valour
Puld people from the farthest sunne to seeke him, 40
And buy his friendship. I was then his souldier.
a8 to. Only in Qi.
3 a Some . . . best. Qi, I'm sure might have preserved.
41 buy. £i, D, B, beg.
SCENE II. ] Qfyt $$%&)*& Q£m%tty 1 2 7
But since his hot pride drew him to disgrace me,
And brand my noble actions with his lust,
(That never cur'd dishonor of my sister,
Base staine of whore, and, which is worse, the
joy 45
To make it still so) like myselfe, thus I
Have flung him off with my allegeance ;
And stand here, mine owne justice, to revenge
What I have suffered in him, and this old man
Wrong' d almost to lunacie.
Cal. Who, I ? 50
You wud draw me in. I have had no wrong ;
I doe disclaime ye all.
Mel. The short is this.
Tis no ambition to lift up myselfe
Urgeth me thus ; I doe desire againe
To be a subject, so I may be free; 55
If not, I know my strength, and will unbuild
This goodly towne. Be speedy and be wise
In a reply.
Strat. Be sudden, sir, to tie
All up againe. What's done is past recall,
And past you to revenge; and there are thou-
sands 60
That wait for such a troubled houre as this.
Throw him the blanke.
45-47 Base . . . allegeance, the verse division of D. Qq, F,
B, end lines with worse . . . myselfe . . . allegeance.
128 Wyt spaces ®rage&p [ACT v
Lys. Melantius, write in that
Thy choice : my scale is at it.
[Throws a paper to Melantius.~\
Mel. It was our honours drew us to this act,
Not gaine ; and we will only worke our pardons. 65
Cat. Put my name in too.
Dipb. You disclaimed us all
But now, Calianax.
CaL Thats all one ;
He not be hangd hereafter by a tricke ;
He have it in.
Mel. You shall, you shall —
Come to the backe gate, and weele call you
King, 70
And give you up the fort.
Lys. Away, away !
Exeunt Omnes.
III. Ante-room to Amintor* s ApartmentsJ\
Enter Aspatia, in mans apparell, \and with artificial
scars on her face."]
Aspatia. This is my fatall houre. Heaven
may forgive
My rash attempt, that causelessly hath laid
Grifes on me that will never let me rest,
And put a womans hart into my breast.
It is more honor for you that I die ;
SCENE III.] Qfyt tyWfrt* &W%tty 1 29
For she that can endure the misery
That I have on me, and be patient too,
May live and laugh at al that you can doe. —
God save you, sir !
Enter Servant.
Servant. And you, sir ! Whats your busi-
nesse ?
Asp. With you, sir, now ; to doe me the faire
office 10
To helpe me to your lord.
Ser. What, would you serve him ?
Asp. He doe him any service ; but, to haste,
For my affaires are ernest, I desire
To speake with him.
Ser. Sir, because you are in such haste,
would 15
Bee loth to delay you longer : you can not.
Asp. It shall become you, though, to tell your
lord.
Ser. Sir, he will speake with nobody ;
[But in particular, I have in charge,
About no waightie matters.]
Asp. This is most strange, ao
Art thou gold-proofe ? theres for thee ; helpe me
to him.
Ser. Pray be not angry, sir ; He doe my best.
Exit.
9 God. Qi misprints Cod.
19-20 But in particular .... matters. Only in Ql.
130 $t spaces rageai? [ACT v.
Asp. How stubbornly this fellow answer' d
me !
There is a vild dishonest tricke in man,
More then in women. All the men I meet *5
Appeare thus to me, are harsh and rude,
And have a subtletie in every thing,
Which love could never know ; but we fond
women
Harbour the easiest and the smoothest thoughts,
And thinke all shall goe so. It is unjust 3°
That men and women should be matcht together.
Enter Amintor and bis man.
Amintor. Where is he ?
Ser. There, my lord.
Amin. What would you, sir ?
Asp. Please it your lordship to command your
man
Out of the roome, I shall deliver things
Worthy your hearing.
Amin. Leave us. [Exit Servant.]
Asp. (aside). Oh, that that shape 35
Should bury falsehood in it !
Amin. Now your will, sir.
Asp. When you know me, my lord, you needs
must ghesse
My businesse ; and I am not hard to know ;
For, till the chance of warre markt this smooth
face
25 women. Q 1661, woman.
in. ] t^Je spaces ® rage&E 131
With these few blemishes, people would call me 40
My sisters picture, and her mine. In short,
I am the brother to the wrong'd Aspatia.
Amin. The wrong'd Aspatia ! would thou
wert so too
Unto the wrong'd Amintor ! Let me kisse
That hand of thine, in honour that I beare 45
Unto the wrong'd Aspatia. Here I stand
That did it. Would he could not ! Gentle youth,
Leave me ; for there is something in thy lookes
That cals my sinnes in a most hideous forme
Into my mind ; and I have griefe enough 50
Without thy helpe.
Asp. I would I could with credit !
Since I was twelve yeeres old, I had not scene
My sister till this houre I now arriv'd:
She sent for me to see her manage ;
A wofull one ! but they that are above 55
Have ends in everything. She us'd few words,
But yet enough to make me understand
The basenesse of the injuries you did her.
That little trayning I have had is war;
I may behave myselfe rudely in peace ; 60
I would not, though. I shall not need to tell
you,
I am but young and would be loth to lose
Honour, that is not easily gain'd againe.
58 injuries. Q6t F, D, injurie.
1 32 $t £0a^De0 rage&E [ACT v.
Fairely I meane to deale : the age is strict
For single combats ; and we shall be stopt, 65
If it be publisht. If you like your sword,
Use it ; if mine appeare a better to you,
Change ; for the ground is this, and this the time,
To end our difference. [Draws."}
Amtn. Charitable youth,
If thou beest such, think not I will maintaine 70
So strange a wrong ; and, for thy sisters sake,
Knowe, that I could not thinke that desperate
thing
I durst not doe ; yet, to injoy this world,
I would not see her; for, beholding thee,
I am I know not what. If I have ought 75
That may content thee, take it and begone,
For death is not so terrible as thou ;
Thine eies shoot guilt into me.
jfsp. Thus, she swore,
Thou wouldst behave thyselfe, and give me
words
That would fetch teares into my eies; and so 80
Thou dost indeed. But yet she bad me watch
Lest I weare cossen'd, and be sure to fight
Ere I returned.
Amin. That must not be with me.
For her He die directly ; but against her
Will never hazard it.
80 my. Q4-F, D, B, mine.
s«NE in.] qt spaces ragefc£ 133
Asp. You must be urg'd. 85
I doe not deale uncivilly with those
That dare to fight ; but such a one as you
Must be usd thus. Sbee strikes him.
Amin. I prethee, youth, take heed.
Thy sister is a thing to me so much
Above mine honour that I can indure 90
All this — Good gods ! a blow I can indure ;
But stay not, lest thou draw a timelesse death
Upon thyselfe.
Asp. Thou art some prating fellow,
One that hath studied out a tricke to talke
And move soft hearted people ; to be kickt, 95
She kickes him.
Thus to be kickt ! — (Aside.) Why should he be
so slow
In giving me my death ?
Amin. A man can beare
No more, and keepe his flesh. Forgive me, then !
I would indure yet, if I could. Now shew
_
The spirit thou pretendest, and understand
Thou hast no houre to live. ( They Jight.) What
dost thou meane ?
Thou canst not fight ; the blowes thou makst
at me
101-105 What . . . dcfencelesse. In Qq and F, lines end
with fig At . . . besides . . . armes . . . defence/else.
1 34 ®i)* spaces ®rage&£ [ACT v.
Are quite besides ; and those I offer at thee,
Thou spread'st thine armes and takst upon thy
brest,
Alas, defencelesse !
Asp. I have got enough, 105
And my desire. There is no place so fit
For me to die as here. [Falls. .]
Enter Evadne, her bands bloudy, with a knife.
Evadne. Amintor, I am loaden with events,
That flie to make thee happy ; I have joyes,
That in a moment can call backe thy wrongs no
And settle thee in thy free state againe.
It is Evadne still that followes thee,
But not her mischiefes.
Amin. Thou canst not foole me to beleeve
agen;
But thou hast looks and things so full of newes"5
That I am staid.
Evad. Noble Amintor, put off thy amaze, .
Let thine eies loose and speake. Am I not
faire ?
Lookes not Evadne beautious with these rites
now ?
Were those houres halfe so lovely in thine
eies 120
When our hands met before the holy man ?
I was too foule within to looke faire then ;
Since I knew ill, I was not free till now.
in.] qfyt $papae0 ragea£ 135
Amin. There is presage of some important
thing
About thee, which, it seemes, thy tongue hath lost; 125
Thy hands are bloudy, and thou hast a knife.
Evad. In this consists thy happinesse and
mine :
Joy to Amintor ! for the King is dead.
Amin. Those have most power to hurt us,
that we love ;
We lay our sleeping lives within their armes. 130
Why, thou hast raisd up mischiefe to his height,
And found one to out-name thy other faults ;
Thou hast no intermission of thy sinnes,
But all thy life is a continued ill ;
Blacke is thy colour now, disease thy nature. 135
Joy to Amintor ! Thou hast toucht a life,
The very name of which had power to chaine
Up all my rage, and calme my wildest wrongs.
Evad. Tis done; and, since I could not find
a way
To meet thy love so cleere as through his life, 140
I cannot now repent it.
Amin. Couldst thou procure the gods to
speake to me,
To bid me love this woman and forgive,
Ithinke I should fall out with them. Behold,
Here lies a youth whose wounds bleed in my
brest, 145
136 w$t spaces ®rage&i? [ACT v.
Sent by a violent fate to fetch his death
From my slow hand ! And, to augment my woe,
You now are present, stain'd with a kings bloud
Violently shed. This keepes night here
And throwes an unknown wildernesse about me. 150
Asp. Oh, oh, oh !
Amin. No more; pursue me not.
Evad. Forgive me, then,
And take mee to thy bed : wee may not part.
[Kneels.]
Amin. Forbeare, be wise, and let my rage goe
this way.
Evad. Tis you that I would stay, not it.
Amin. Take heed, 155
It will returne with me.
Evad. If it must be,
I shall not feare to meete it. Take me home.
Amin. Thou monster of crueltie, forbeare !
Evad. For Heavens sake, looke more calme !
thine eies are sharper
Then thou canst make thy sword.
Amin. Away, away ! 160
Thy knees are more to mee than violence ;
I am worse then sicke to see knees follow me
For that I must not grant. For Gods sake, stand !
Evad. Receive me, then.
Amin. I dare not stay thy language;
158 of crueltie. Th, B, of all cruelty.
SCENE III.] $$&£&# m%tty 137
In midst of all my anger and my griefe, 165
Thou doest awake something that troubles me,
And saies, I lov'd thee once. I dare not stay ;
There is no end of womans reasoning.
Leaves her.
Evad. [rising] . Amintor, thou shalt love me
now againe !
Go; I am calme. Farewell, and peace for ever! 170
Evadne, whom thou hat'st, will die for thee !
Kills berselfe.
Amin. I have a little humane nature yet,
Thats left for thee, that bids me stay thy hand.
Re turn es.
Evad. Thy hand was welcome, but it came
too late.
Oh, I am lost ! the heavie sleepe makes haste. 175
She dies.
Asp. Oh, oh, oh !
Amin. This earth of mine doth tremble, and
I feele
A stark affrighted motion in my bloud ;
My soul growes wearie of her house, and I
All over am a trouble to myselfe. 180
There is some hidden power in these dead things
That calls my flesh unto 'em ; I am cold :
Be resolute and beare em company.
Theres something yet which I am loth to leave :
Qi, selfe. unto, Qi, Q$. Q 2, into.
138 w$t spaces ®rage&p [ACT v.
Theres man enough in me to meet the feares 185
That death can bring; and yet would it were
done !
I can finde nothing in the whole discourse
Of death, I durst not meet the bouldest way ;
Yet still, betwixt the reason and the act,
The wrong I to Aspatia did stands up ; 190
I have not such another fault to answere:
Though she may justly arme herselfe with scorne
And hate of me, my soule will part lesse troubled,
When I have paid to her in teares my sorrow :
I will not leave this act unsatisfied, 195
If all thats left in me can answer it.
Asp. Was it a dreame ? there stands Amintor
still ;
Or I dreame still.
Amm. How doest thou ? speake ; receive my
love & helpe.
Thy bloud climbes up to his old place againe ; 200
Theres hope of thy recoverie.
Asp. Did you not name Aspatia ?
Amm. I did.
Asp. And talkt of teares and sorrow unto her ?
Amm. Tis true ; and till these happie signes
in thee
Did stay my course, it was thither I was going. 205
Asp. Thou art there already, and these wounds
are hers :
205 Did stay, £3. Qi, Qa, staid.
SCENE III.] f&ty $Pa#)fg f&Wi%tty 139
Those threats I brought with me sought not
revenge,
But came to fetch this blessing from thy hand :
I am Aspatia yet.
Amin. Dare my soule ever looke abroad agen ? 210
Asp. I shall sure live, Amintor ; I am well ;
A kinde of healthfull joy wanders within me.
Amin. The world wants lives to excuse thy
losse ;
Come, let me bare thee to some place of helpe.
Asp. Amintor, thou must stay ; I must rest
here ; 215
My strength begins to disobey my will.
How dost thou, my best soule ? I would faine
live
Now, if I could. Wouldst thou have loved me,
then ?
Amin. Alas,
All that I am's not worth a haire from thee ! 220
Asp. Give me thine hand ; mine hands grope
up & down,
And cannot finde thee ; I am wondrous sicke :
Have I thy hand, Amintor ?
Amin. Thou greatest blessing of the world,
thou hast.
Asp. I doe beleeve thee better then my sense. 225
Oh, I must goe ! farewell ! Dies.
213 lives. Qq, F, lines, to excuse. Th, B, to expiate.
220 ami's, Q4-F. Qi-Q3> ams.
140 tElje spaces rage&£ [ACT v.
Amin. She sounds. — Aspatia! — Helpe ! for
Gods sake, water,
Such as may chaine life ever to this frame ! —
Aspatia, speake ! — What, no helpe yet ? I foole !
He chafe her temples. Yet theres nothing
stirs : 430
Some hidden power tell her, Amintor cals,
And let her answere me! — Aspatia, speake ! —
I have heard, if there be any life, but bow
The body thus, and it will shew itselfe.
Oh, she is gone ! I will not leave her yet. 235
Since out of justice we must challenge nothing,
He call it mercy, if youle pitty me,
You heavenly powers, and lend for some few
yeeres
The blessed soule to this faire seat againe !
No comfort comes ; the gods denie me too ! 240
He bow the body once againe — Aspatia ! —
The soule is fled forever, and I wrong
Myselfe so long to loose her company.
Must I talke now ? Heres to be with thee, love !
Kils himself e.
Enter Servant.
Servant. This is a great grace to my lord, 10245
have the new King come to him ; I must tell
him he is entring. — Oh, God ! — Helpe, helpe !
227 sounds. F, swounds.
230 tAeres, Q4-F. Qi-3, there.
in.] tE^c ^a^oe0 3frageD£ 141
Enter Lisipfyus], Melant\iui\, Cal\ianax\, Clean,
Dipb[ilus, an<f] Strata.
Lysippus. Wheres Amintor ?
Strata. Oh, there, there !
Lys. How strange is this !
Calianax. What should we doe here ?
Melantius. These deaths are such acquainted
things with me 250
That yet my heart dissolves not. May I stand
Stiffe here for ever ! — Eies, call up your teares !
This is Amintor. Heart, he was my friend ;
Melt ! now it flowes. — Amintor, give a word
To call me to thee. 255
Amin. Oh !
Mel. Melantius cals his friend Amintor. Oh,
Thy armes are kinder to me then thy tongue !
Speake, speake !
Amin. What? a6o
MeL That little word was worth all the
sounds
That ever I shall heare againe.
Diph. Oh, brother,
Here lies your sister slaine ! You lose yourselfe
In sorrow there.
Mel. Why, Dip [hilus] , it is
A thing to laugh at in respect to this : 265
Here was my sister, father, brother, sonne,
448 Strata. Edd. 1778 changed to Serv.t so D.
142 Wyt spaces ®rage&£ [ACT v.
All that I had. — Speake once againej what
youth
Lies slaine there by thee ?
Amin. Tis Aspatia.
My last is said. Let me give up my soule
Into thy bosome. [Z>/V/.]z7o
CaL Whats that f whats that ? Aspatia ?
Mel. I never did
Repent the greatnesse of my heart till now ;
It will not burst at need.
CaL My daughter dead here too ! And you
have all fine new trickes to grieve, but I nere*75
knew any but direct crying.
Mel. I am a pratler : but, no more !
[Offers to stab himself.']
Diph. Hold, brother !
Lis. Stop him.
Diph. Fie, how unmanly was this offer in
you !
Does this become our straine ? 280
CaL I know not what the matter is, but I
am growne very kinde, and am friends with you
[all now] . You have given me that among you
will kill me quickly ; but He go home and live
as long as I can. [£*•;/.] ^85
Mel. His spirit is but poore that can be kept
269 My last is said. £3, My senses fade.
283 all noiv. Only in Qi.
SCENE III.] fyt tyW*t8 m%tty H3
From death for want of weapons.
Is not my hands a weapon sharpe enough
To stop my breath ? or, if you tie downe those,
I vow, Amintor, I will never eat, 290
Or drinke, or sleepe, or have to doe with that
That may preserve life ! This I sweare to
keepe.
Lys. Look to him, though, and beare those
bodies in.
May this a faire example be to me,
To rule with temper, for on lustfull kings 295
Unlookt-for sudden deaths from God are sent,
But curst is he that is their instrument.
[Exeunt.]
288 hands. Q6, F, hand, sbarpe, Qi-Q3- £4 - F, D
B, good.
FINIS.
to
For the meaning of single words see the Glossary.
DATE. This play, licensed, April 4, 1619, to R. Higginbotham
and F. Constable, was evidently written before October 31, 1 6 1 1 ,
on which day a play was licensed by Sir George Buc, and endorsed,
" This second maiden's tragedy." It was first printed in 1619, for
F. Constable. For other editions see Bibliography. There is no
certain early limit, but 1 609 is a reasonable conjecture for the date
of the first production.
STAGE HISTORY. The play was first acted at either the Globe
or the Blackfriars theatre by the King's men, and probably while
Shakespeare was still an active member of that company. Burbadge
played Melantius, and the play was popular until the closing of the
theatres. A droll, the Testy Lord, based on the scenes dealing with
Calianax, was played at the Red Bull during the suppression of the
theatres, and the play was revived on Nov. 17, 1660. Pepys saw
it in the following year, and it was popular during the Restoration,
as is evinced by Dryden's criticisms and Rymer's attack in his Trage-
dies of the Last Age Considered. An alteration of the play, or rather
a new fifth act, without the murder of the king, was written by
Waller, and two versions were printed ; but it does not appear
that either of these versions for any long time supplanted the orig-
inal play on the stage. In 1703 it was revived at Drury Lane,
where it had not been acted for twelve years; in 1706, at the
Haymarket, Evadne was played by Mrs. Barry, Aspatia by Mrs.
Bracegirdle, and Melantius by Betterton ; and Melantius was the
last part acted by Betterton three days before his death in ij>io.
The play appeared occasionally until the middle of the century j
then it seems to have been laid aside until 1837, when, with alter-
ations by Macready and three new scenes by Sheridan Knowles, it
was revived as the Bridal.
7, 73. That beares the light above her. Weber
to ^e ^a'0 rage&p 145
adopted about of Qa and understood light to stand for lightning.
Dyce took ^«r to refer to Aspatia and understood the passage to
mean, has greater distinction than Aspatia. Daniel (B) suggested
' ' blears * ' for beares, — ' ' Evadne makes dim the very light of
heaven that is above her, by her superior brilliancy." Dyce' s inter-
pretation seems the most satisfactory. A similar uncertainty of the
quartos between above and about is found in 1. 138.
8, loo. in course. In turn. See u, i, 106.
II. Scene II. Compare Henry VIII, v, 4, and the Induc-
tion to Four Plays in One, for similar scenes.
11, 4. well said. Here, as frequently, equivalent to "well
done."
12, ai. Office! "The syllable off reminds the testy states-
man of his robe, and he carries on the image." Coleridge, cited
by D and B.
X3> 52- breake a dozen wiser heads than his own,
etc. At Shirley's masque, the Triumph of Peace, at court, in
1633, Lord Pembroke broke his staff over the shoulders of Thomas
May, the poet. Osborne in his Traditional Memoirs relates the
story, observing in the very words of the text that Pembroke " did
not refraine, whilst he was chamberlaine, to break many wiser
heads than his owne." This coincidence was noted by Weber j
and Dyce, quoting Weber's note, which he queries as by Sir Walter
Scott, added that in a copy of the quarto of 1638 in his possession,
" Pembroke " was written in the margin opposite this passage.
J7> J39- This beautie. The beauty of the court, disclosed
by the entrance of Cynthia, is referred to. The mists, mentioned
in the stage-direction, doubtless disappeared.
20, 196-198. These . . . things. Daniel (B) believes Qa
a bungling attempt to correct the certainly corrupt Qi, and pro-
poses to read :
These are our music : next, thy watery race
Led on in couples, we are pleased to grace
This noble night;
Bid them draw near, each in their richest things.
Dyce suggested "Lead" for Bring in 1. 197.
21, 214. Blew Proteus. Blue, because a sea-deity.
22,252. if not her measure. Theobald omitted ; Seward
146 j^otes to
altered to "If not o'er measure" ; Dyce retained the reading of
Q2, and explained, " though perhaps what I bring may not com-
pletely fill up her [this hour] measure." Fleay {Chron. Eng.
Drama, i, 193 ) suggested that the words are merely the misprint of
a stage-direction, — " Another measure. ' ' His suggestion is doubt-
less correct and is adopted by Daniel (B). In Qi there are but two
songs and two dances ; Qz provides three songs and three accom-
panying dances.
24, 292. yon same flashing streame. This is the ef-
fulgence of the court, shot from the south. A greater light ', a greater
majesty, than that of the daybreak in the east.
27, 22. take it. Contradistinctive to leave it, ofl. 1 8 j //
refers to trick in 1. 17.
28, 30. Plucke downe a side. To set up a side meant, to
be partners in a game j to pluck down a side, to cause the loss of a
game.
28, 38. But I could run my countrey. But I could
(B, qy., would) drive my country at a hot pace.
29, 56. lost. Left of Q5-F has the same meaning as lost;
the two were used interchangeably. See 1. 347.
43, 341. that my flesh could beare with patience.
Dyce notes : " If the text be right [that] must refer to
Nor let the king
Know I conceive he wrongs me"; [11. 339, 340.]
— that concealment would enable me to bear my injury with
patience."
48, 67. the wilde Hand. Naxos.
49, 78. A miserable life of this poore picture !
A living representation of the pitiful scene depicted in this needle-
work.
64, 264. that little credit. The force of that is intensive,
— such little credit.
79, 260. Enter Melantius agen. Daniel (B) notes,
" Perhaps a new scene should be marked here." No change of
place is intended ; and only a very brief interval of time can be
supposed to have intervened between the exit and the reentry of
Melantius.
to Wsp $Dato'0 {Erageap 147
79, 266. as sent. "As if you were sent on purpose."
Mason.
83, 2- you looke, Evadne. Dyce remarks that modern
editors (punctuating as in the text) strangely misunderstand the
line ; but his interpretation — you look or seem to be Evadne —
can be justified only if Evadne is supposed to misunderstand her bro-
ther, and even then is not supported by Melantius' succeeding lines.
The punctuation of Theobald, retained in the text, requires less re-
finement in interpretation.
84, 11. Mil Ian skins. "Fine gloves manufactured at
Milan." Nares.
85, 32. fill. " As a sheet of paper is fill' d or covered with
writing." Daniel (B).
86, 55. where the Dog raignes. The dog star, Sirius,
which gave the name to the dog-days, and was associated with the
hottest and most unhealthful weather.
95, 228. Lerna. The name of a marsh and a lake in Ar-
golis, famous in Greek mythology as the abode of the Lernean
Hydra, slain by Hercules in the accomplishment of one of his
twelve labors.
96, 239. if thou plai'st with thy repentance, the
best sacrifice. If thou mak'st thy repentance, the most ac-
ceptable sacrifice you can offer, merely a mockery and sport.
IOO, 39. Quit 'em. Abandon them, forsake them.
1 13, 286. astronomers. " When astrologer and astronomer
began to be differentiated, the relation between them was, at first,
the converse of the present usage." N. E. D.
1 1 6. King abed. The stage-directions indicate the business
on the Elizabethan stage. At the rear of the stage was a bed with
closed curtains j or the bed was placed in the inner stage and cur-
tains concealed it from the front. Evadne remained on the stage
from the opening of the scene to line 1 1 1 j and there was nothing to
indicate the change of scene at line 1 1 , marked by Theobald and
other modern editors.
117, 19. that desperate fooles. The reference has not
been identified.
121, 86. Those blessed fires that shot. Meteors.
126, 33. When time was. From the beginning.
129, 12. but, to haste. But, to make haste.
148 ^otea to Wqt gate's
But in particular, I have in charge,
129, i >. About no waightie matters.
I have in charge that he will speake with nobody, especially if
they wish to speake on weighty matters.
135, 142-43. Couldst thou . . . this woman. Dan-
iel's suggestion of " thee, woman," avoids the confusion of the
change from the personal to the demonstrative pronoun. The
change, however, seems natural to Amin tor's passion.
TEXT
The first quarto, published in 1620, some twelve years after the
play was first acted, presents an evidently corrupt and unauthorized
text, differing utterly at the beginning and the end from the 'other
quartos, and in the remaining portion of the play apparently based
on a copy made by some scribe in the audience. The passages at
the beginning and the end were in the opinion of Dyce, supplied
" by some hireling writer," and they certainly cannot have been
the work of Beaumont or Fletcher. They may possibly have been
alterations made for some theatrical performance, but their contents
offer no support for Fleay's conjecture (Chron. Eng. Drama, i,
189) that they were made for the presentation at court, 1612-
13. The main body of the text, though presenting many readings
due to the inaccurate hearing of the scribe and though carelessly
printed with little regard to the division of verse-lines, often sup-
plies corrections for the corruptions of later quartos. Walkeley, the
publisher of Qi, brought out the second quarto in 1622, to which
he prefixed an Address to the Reader, disclaiming for himself or the
printer any blame for the errors of Qi and promising their reforma-
tion. By whom he was supplied with a corrected text cannot be
known. Beaumont had been dead six years ; and though Fletcher
was still alive, there is nothing to indicate that he supplied or revised
the text. Walkeley had printed an anonymous edition of Thierry
and Theodoret in 1621, and the first quarto of A King and No
King with the authors' names in 1619; the manuscript for the
latter he had obtained from Sir Henry Nevill, and he had now secured
from some source a good copy of Philaster.
Q2 is our chief authority for the text. £3, 1630, follows it in
the main, but £4, 1634, presents many changes especially in the
oaths, and these changes have been generally preserved in subsequent
quartos, the Folio of 1679, anc^ by modern editors up to Dyce, and
even he often retains the modified oaths. The later quartos repeat
the text of Q4'34; Q5a has many errors of its own; and F,
printed from Q6, reproduces the accumulated errors, though it adds
a few corrections that are improvements.
150
The present edition is based on Cjz, its spelling is retained, and
all departures from its letter are noted. Readings from other quartos
have occasionally been adopted. In view of the peculiar relation of
Qi to Qz, and the fact that the full variants for Qi have never
been printed except in the recent Bullen Variorum edition, and there
not with entire accuracy, it has been thought best to include full
variants of Qi, even when of the slightest significance. Similarly,
full variants of the later Qq and F are given. Variants of modern
editors are given only when of importance to the text j but all de-
viations of Dyce or Daniel ( B ) from the present text are specifically
noted. The arrangement of verse-lines in Qa is followed in the
main ; that of Dyce is sometimes preferred, when the reading of
Qa is given in the notes. Variations in the verse-lines of Qi are
not in general given. In all other respects except those just noted,
the text follows the methods specified in the textual note to the
MaicTs Tragedy,
Professor J. W. Cunliffe transcribed the text of Qa from the
copy in the Bodleian Library, and collated it with £3. Professor
G. P. Baker collated the text with the Locker-Lampson copy of
Qi now in the library of Mr. Robert Hoe, of New York. The
authorities of the Cambridge University Press, through the kind
intervention of the Master of Peterhouse and Mr. A. R. Waller,
supplied the advance sheets of the edition of Philaster which Mr.
Waller is editing for their "Cambridge English Classics." These
sheets furnished a basis for the collation of the Qq and F, and
a comparison of their variants with those of Leonhardt and Daniel
(B). For the great kindness and important services of these gen-
tlemen, the editor would offer his grateful acknowledgements.
THE BLACKFRIARS' THEATRE
Reproduced by permission from the collection of
E. Gardner, Esq., London.
PHIL ASTER.
0%
Lone lies a Bleeding.
at the Globe, andJJlacke-Fricrs, by
h'u Mtitjkie* Seruants*
Written by? and
Thefccondlmpreffion, corrc^lcd^and
amended*
LONDOJT.
Printed for T H o M A s W A IK LEY, and are to
be(oldc at his fhoppe, at the figne of the
Eagle and. Guide,, in Brittacnts Bwffc*
1622.
SOURCES
The plot seems to have been the invention of the authors. Stories
of a devoted heroine who disguises herself as a page were common
in contemporary fiction and drama, and the similarity of the story
of Euphrasia to that of Viola in Tiuelftb Night and to the tale of
Felismena and Don Felix in the Diana of Montemayor has been
frequently noted. The situation of Philaster as a son revenging
a father is also found not only in Hamlet but in various other Eliza-
bethan plays. More notable are the resemblances between Phi/aster
and Cymbeline ; but in the opinion of the present editor, Shakspere
was in this case the borrower. A number of the situations and types
of character employed in Phi/aster reappear in other plays by Beau-
mont and Fletcher, especially Cupid's Revenge and the Maid's
Tragedy.
TO THE READER.
Courteous Reader. Phi/aster , and Arethusa his love,
have laine so long a bleeding, by reason of some danger-
ous and gaping wounds which they received in the first
impression, that it is wondered how they could goe abroad
so long, or travaile so farre as they have done. Although
they were hurt neither by me, nor the printer j yet I
knowing and finding by experience how many well-
wishers they have abroad, have adventured to bind up
their wounds & to enable them to visite upon better
tearmes such friends of theirs as were pleased to take
knowledge of them so mained and deformed as they at
the first were j and if they were then gracious in your
sight, assuredly they will now finde double favour, being
reformed, and set forth suteable to their birth and
breeding.
By your serviceable
friend,
Thomas Walkley.
ft the Reader, etc. Only in Qz. mained. i. e., maimed.
[THE STATIONER
TO
THE UNDERSTANDING
GENTRIE
This play so affectionatly taken and approoved by the
seeing auditors or hearing spectators, (of which sort I
take or conceive you to bee the greatest part) hath received
(as appeares by the copious vent of two editions) no lesse
acceptance with improovement of you likewise the readers,
albeit the first impression swarm'd with errors, proov-
ing it selfe like pure gold, which the more it hath beene
tried and refined, the better is esteemed j the best poems
of this kind, in the first presentation, resemble that all
tempting minerall newly digged up, the actors being
onely the labouring miners, but you the skilfull triers and
refiners: now considering how currant this hath passed,
under the infallible stampe of your judicious censure and
applause, and (like a gainefull office in this age) eagerly
sought for, not onely by those that have heard & scene
it, but by others that have meerely heard thereof; here you
behold me acting the merchant-adventurers part, yet as
well for their satisfaction as mine owne benefit, and if
my hopes (which I hope shall never lye like this LOVE
A BLEEDING) doe fairely arrive at their intended haven, I
shall then be ready to lade a new bottome, and set foorth
againe, to gaine the good- will both of you and them.
To whom respectively I convey this hearty greeting:
ADIEU.]
The Stationer, etc., Qj, and with variations of spelling, Q4-Q6.
[The Scene being in Cicilie.
The Persons Represented in the Play are these, viz:
The KING.
PHILASTER, Heire to the Crowne.
PHARAMOND, Prince of Spaine.
DION, a Lord.
CLEREMONT, ) Noble Gentlemen,
THRASALINE, j his Associates.
ARETHUSA, the Kings Daughter.
GALLATEA, a wise Modest Lady at-
tending the Princesse.
MEGRA, a Lascivious Lady.
An old Wanton Lady, or Croane.
Another Lady attending the Prin-
cesse.
EUFRASIA, Daughter of Dion, but
disguised like a Page, and called
An old Captaine.
Five Citizens.
A countrey fellow.
Two woodmen.
The Kings Guard and Traine.]
The Scene, etc., Qj ; and with variations of spelling, Galatea^ Thrasilint, Q4-F.
Q2 omits. Qi substitutes :
THE ACTORS NAMES.
King of Cecely.
Arathusa, the Princesse.
Phylaster.
Pharamont, a Spanish Prince.
Leon, a Lord.
Bellario a Page, Leon's daughter.
Callatea, a Lady of Honor.
Megra, another Lady.
A Waiting Gentlewoman.
Two Woodmen.
A Countrey Gallant.
An Old Captaine.
And Souldiers.
A Messenger.
Qi has Leon, or Lytn. throughout the play in place of Dion of later eds. ;
and in stage-directions or prefixes to speeches, Prin. or Princesse for Arethusa
throughout, and Boy for Bellario until the last scene, Gleremon and Callatea
are misprints not found elsewhere.
ACTUS I. SCENA I.
[The Presence Chamber in the Pa lace. ,]
Enter Dion, Cleremont, and Tbrasiline.
Cleremont. Here's nor lords nor ladyes.
Dion. Credit me, gentlemen, I wonder at it.
They receiv'd strickt charge from the King to
atend here : besides, it was boldly published that
no officer should forbid any gentleman that
desired to attend and hear.
Cle. Can you ghesse the cause ?
Dion. Sir, it is plaine, about the Spanish prince
that's come to marry our kingdomes heir, and
be our soveraigne.
Tbrasiline. Many, that will seeme to know
Actus I. For the text of Qi from the beginning of the play
through 1. I a I, see Notes, p. 318. Variants from Qi are not given
until after 1. 121.
The Presence Chamber, etc. The names of localities and the divi-
sions of scenes (after Act I, Sc. i) are from D, unless otherwise
noted.
Thrasiline. QZ spells Trasiline or Trasilin, and abbreviates Tra.
throughout the play.
I nor lords. Q5~F, not lords.
6 desired. Q4~F, desire.
158 Blaster
much, say she lookes not on him like a maide
in love.
Dion. Faith, sir, the multitude (that seldome
know any thing but their owne opinions) speake 15
that they would have. But the prince, before
his own approach, receiv'd so many confident
messages from the state, that I thinke shee's
resolv'd to be ruFd.
Cle. Sir, it is thought, with her hee shall en- ao
joy both these kingdomes of Cicilie and Cala-
bria.
Dion. Sir, it is, without controversie, so meant.
But 'twill bee a troublesome labour for him to
enjoy both these kingdomes with safety, the right 25
heire to one of them living, and living so vertu-
ously ; especially, the people admiring the bravery
of his minde and lamenting his injuries.
Cle. Who, Philaster ?
Dion. Yes; whose father, we all know, was 30
by our late king of Calabria unrighteously de-
posed from his fruitful Cicilie. My selfe drew
some blood in those warres, which I would give
my hand to be washed from.
Cle. Sir, my ignorance in state-policie will not 35
let mee know why, Philaster being heire to one
of these kingdomes, the King should suffer him
to walke abroad with such free liberty.
14 Faith. &4-F, O.
SCENE I.] ^tylZtittt 159
Dion. Sir, it seemes your nature is more con-
stant then to enquire after state newes. But the 40
King, of late, made a hazard of both the king-
domes, of Cicilie and his owne, with offering
but to imprison Philaster. At which the city
was in armes, not to bee charm'd downe by any
state-order or proclamation, till they saw Philas- 45
ter ride through the streetes pleasde and without
a guard ; at which they threw their hats and
their armes from them ; some to make bonfires,
some to drinke, all for his deliverance. Which,
wise men say, is the cause the King labors to 5°
bring in the power of a forraigne nation to awe
his owne with.
Enter Galatea, a Lady, and Megra.
Thra. See, the ladyes ! What's the first ?
Dion. A wise and modest gentlewoman that
attends the princesse. 55
Cle. The second ?
46-47 pleasde . . . threw. D, released . . . threw. Mit-
ford, conj., without a guard ; and pleased at which they threw.
Enter Galatea, a Lady, and Megra. Qq and F read, "Enter
Galatea (Qi, Gallatea) Megra and a Lady" ; and in the dialogue
preceding the entrance of the King, they assign to ' ' La " the
speeches now given to " Meg," and to " Meg" those now given
to ' ' La. ' ' The transpositions were first suggested by Seward and
have been followed by all modern editors.
Galatea. Qi spells Gallatea and abbreviates Gall, throughout the
play.
160 Blaster [ACTI.
Dion. She is one that may stand still dis-
creetely enough, and ill-favour'dly dance her
measure ; simper when shee is courted by her
friend, and slight her husband. 60
Cle. The last ?
Dion. Faith, I thinke she is one whom the
state keepes for the agents of our confederate
princes ; she'll cog and lie with a whole army,
before the league shall break, Her name is com- 65
mon through the kingdome, and the trophies of
her dishonour advanced beyond Hercules pillars.
She loves to try the severall constitutions of
mens bodyes ; and, indeede, has destroyed the
worth of her owne body by making experiment 70
upon it for the good of the commonwealth.
Cle. She's a profitable member.
Megra. Peace, if you love me : you shall see
these gentlemen stand their ground and not court
us. 75
Galatea. What if they should ?
Lady. What if they should !
Meg. Nay, let her alone. — What if they
should ? Why, if they should, I say they were
never abroad. What forraigner would doe so ? go
it writes them directly untravelPd.
Gal. Why, what if they be ?
La. What if they be !
62 Faith. Q4-F, Marry.
SCENE I.] tylSitittt l6l
Meg. Good madam, let her go on. — What
if they be ? Why if they be, I will justifie, they 85
cannot maintaine discourse with a judicious lady,
nor make a leg, nor say, u excuse me."
Gal. Ha, ha, ha !
Meg. Doe you laugh, madam ?
Dion. Your desires upon you, ladyes. 90
Meg. Then you must sit beside us.
Dion. I shall sit neere you then, lady.
Meg. Neare me, perhaps : but there's a lady
endures no stranger ; and to me you appeare a
very strange fellow. 95
La. Me thinkes he's not so strange; he would
quickly bee acquainted.
Tbra. Peace, the King.
Enter King, Pharamond, Aretbusa, and Traine.
King. To give a stronger testemony of love
Then sickly promises (which commonly 100
In princes finde both birth and buriall
In one breath) we have drawne you, worthy sir,
To make your faire indearements to our daugh-
ter,
And worthy services knowne to our subjects,
97 quickly bee, Q3~ F. Q2, quickly to bee.
Aretbusa. Qz spells Arathusa and abbreviates Ara. throughout
the play.
99 stronger. Q^.— F, stranger.
103 our. Q5-F, your. 104 our. £3, £4, your.
1 62
Now lov'd and wondered at ; next, our intent, 105
To plant you deepely, our immediate heire,
Both to our blood and kingdomes. For this lady,
(The best part of your life, as you confirme me,
And I beleeve) though her few yeeres and sex
Yet teach her nothing but her feares and blushes, no
Desires without desire, discourse and know-
ledge
Onely of what her selfe is to her selfe,
Make her feele moderate health; and when she
sleepes,
In making no ill day, knowes no ill dreames.
Thinke not, deare sir, these undivided parts, "5
That must mould up a virgin, are put on
To shew her so, as borrowed ornaments,
To speake her perfect love to you, or adde
An artificiall shaddow to her nature —
No sir, I boldly dare proclaime her yet 120
No woman. But wooe her still, and thinke her
modesty,
A sweeter mistrisse then the offer* d language
Of any dame, were she a queene, whose eye
Speaks common loves and comforts to her serv-
ants.
Last, noble sonne, (for so I now must call you) 125
What I have done thus publique, is not onely
118 speake, Q3~F. Qa, talke of.
124 comforts. Qi, comfort. 126 onely. Qi omits.
SCENE I.] ^i^ttt 163
To adde [a] comfort in particular
To you or me, but all ; and to confirme
The nobles, and the gentry of these kingdomes,
By oath to your succession, which shall be 130
Within this moneth, at most.
Thra. This will be hardly done.
Cle. It must be ill done, if it be done.
Dion. When tis at best, twill be but halfe
done,
Whilst so brave a gentleman is wrong' d and
flung off. 135
Thra. I feare.
Cle. Who does not ?
Dion. I feare not for my selfe, and yet I feare
too.
Well, we shall see, we shall see. No more.
Pharamond. Kissing your white hand, mis-
trisse, I take leave 140
To thanke your royall father ; and thus farre,
To be my owne 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 speake my self) 145
To what a person, of what eminence,
Ripe expectation, of what faculties,
127 adde a, Q3~F. Qa omits a.
129 these kingdomes. Qi, our kingdonie. 134 tis. Qi, it is.
164 pilaster [ACT i.
Manners and vertues, you would wed your king-
domes ;
You in me have your wishes. Oh, this countrey !
By more then all the gods I hold it happy; I50
Happy, in their deare memories that have bin
Kings great and good ; happy in yours, that is ;
And from you (as a chronicle to keepe
Your noble name from eating age) doe I
Opine my selfe most happy. Gentlemen, 155
Beleeve me in a word, a princes word,
There shall be nothing to make up a kingdome
Mighty, and flourishing, defenced, fear'd,
Equall to be commanded and obeyed,
But through the travells of my life Fie finde it,i6o
And tye it to this countrey. By all the gods,
My reigne shall be so easie to the subject,
That every man shall be his prince himselfe,
And his owne lawe ; yet I his prince and law.
And, deerest lady, to your deerest selfe, 165
(Deere, in the choyce of him, whose name and
lustre
Must make you more and mightier) let me say,
149 You in me. Qi, and in me. your. Qz misprints, you.
1 50 all the gods. Q4~ F, all my hopes.
152 happy. Q5-F omit.
154 eating. Qi, rotting. 155 Opine, F. Qq, Open.
1 60 travells. Mod. Edd., travails. finde it. Ql, finde it out.
161 By all the gods. Q4-F, And I vow.
162 jo ... subject. Qi, as . . . subjects.
SCENE i.] pliitoter 165
You are the blessedst living ; for, sweete prin-
cesse,
You shall injoy a man of men to be
Your servant ; you shall make him yours, for
whom 170
Great queenes must die.
Thra. Miraculous !
Cle. This speech calls him Spaniard, beeing
nothing but a large inventory of his owne com-
mendations. 175
Dion. I wonder what's his price? for cer-
tainely
Hee'll sell himselfe, he has so praisde his shape.
Ent\_er~\ Pbilaster.
But heere comes one more worthy those large
speeches
Than the large speaker of them ;
Let mee bee swallowed quicke, if I can finde, 180
In all the anatomy of yon mans vertues,
One sinnew sound enough to promise for him,
172 Miraculous! Qi, Miracles.
176—185 I •wonder . . . judgement. Qq and F print as prose j
verse first in ed. 1711.
177 sell. Q6, F, tell, bimselfe . . . praised. Qi, him . . .
be praised.
Enter Pbilaster , so placed in Qi ; in Qz, after line 175-
178 speeches. Qi, praises.
181-182 In . . . enough. Qi, all the Anatomy of yon man's
vertues unseene to sound enough.
1 66 Blaster [ACTI.
He shall be constable. By this sunne,
Hee'll ne're make king, unlesse it be of trifles,
In my poore judgement. !85
Pbilaster. Right noble sir, as low as my obe-
dience,
And with a heart as loyall as my knee,
I beg your favour.
King. Rise, you have it sir.
Dion. Marke but the King how pale he lookes,
he feares !
Oh, this same whoreson conscience, how it jades
us ! i9o
King. Speake your intents sir.
Phi. Shall I speake um freely ?
Be still my royall Soveraigne.
King. As a subject
We give you freedome.
Dion. Now it heates.
Phi. Then thus I turne
My language to you, prince, you forraigne man !
Ne're stare, nor put on wonder, for you must 195
183-185 He . . . judgement, division of lines as in B ; D prints
as two lines, ending the first with king.
1 84 of trifles. Q4-F, D, for trifles.
187 And. Ql omits. 188 your. Qi, for.
189 lookes, be feares! Q4-F, D, looks with fear.
190 Ob . . . boiv. Qi, And . . . ah how.
191 intents. Qz, intent. um. Qi, on.
193 turne. Q5, turnd.
195 for. Qi omits.
SCENE L] y&tyl&8ttt 167
Indure me, and you shall. This earth you tread
upon
(A dowry as you hope with this faire princesse),
By my dead father (oh, I had a father
Whose memory I bow to !) was not left
To your inheritance, and I up and living, — Z0o
Having my selfe about me, and my sword,
The soules of all my name, and memories,
These armes, and some few friends, beside the
gods,-
To part so calmely with it, and sit still,
And say, u I might have beene." I tell thee,
Pharamond, 205
When thou art king, looke I be dead and rotten,
And my name ashes, as I : for, heare me, Phara-
mond,
This very ground thou goest on, this_,£at earth,
My fathers friends made fertile with their faiths,
Before that day of shame, shall gape and swallow aio
Thee and thy nation, like a hungry grave,
Into her hidden bowells : prince, it shall ;
By the just gods it shall.
Pka. He's mad beyond cure, mad.
197 faire. Q I, sweet.
198-199 By . . . left. Qq and F transpose these two lines; the
order in the text is due to Th.
203 beside, Qz, £3. Ql et a!., besides.
207 as I. Q4~F, D, omit. 212 her. Qi, his.
213 By the just gods. Q4~ F, D, By Nemesis.
1 68 pilaster CACTI.
Dion. Here's a fellow has some fire in's vaines :
The outlandish prince lookes like a tooth-
drawer. 215
Phi. Sir, prince of poppingjayes, Tie make it
well appeare
To you, I am not mad.
King. You displease us,
You are too bold.
Phi. No sir, I am too tame,
Too much a turtle, a thing borne without pas-
sion,
A faint shaddow, that every drunken clo^d
sayles over 220
And makes nothing.
King. I doe not fancie this.
Call our physitions : sure he's somewhat tainted.
Tbra. I doe not thinke twill prove so.
Dion. H'as given him a generall purge already,
For all the right he has, and now he meanes 225
To let him blood. Be constant, gentlemen,
By heaven, Pie run his hazard,
Although I run my name out of the kingdome.
216 Sir . . . poppingjayes, I* lc. Qi, I . . . popines, I will.
219 turtle. Qi, turcle. 221 makes. Qi, make.
221—222 fancie this . . . sure. Qi, fancy this choller, Sure.
224 H' as. Q2, Has.
224—228 H^as . .' . kingdome, as verse first by W.
226—227 Be . . . run. Q i, be constant gentle heavens, I'll run.
227 By heaven. Q4-D, by these hilts.
SCENE i.] ^tteter 169
Cle. Peace, we are all one soule.
Pha. What you have scene in me to stirre
offence, 230
I cannot finde, unlesse it be this lady,
Offer'd into mine armes, with the succession,
Which I must keepe (though it hath pleasd your
fury
To muteny within you) without disputing
Your geneolegies, or taking knowledge 235
Whose branch you are. 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
sunne
Shine upon anything but thine ; were Pharamonda4o
As truely valiant as I feele him cold,
And ringd amongst the choycest of his friends,
Such as would blush to talke such serious follies,
Or backe such bellied commendations,
And from this presence, — spight of [all] these
bugs, 245
You should heare further from me.
229 all. Q4'39~F omit. 236 it me. Qi, it to me.
238 ivert. Q4, Q5b, were.
240 anything. Q$b, any thine; Q6, F, any.
244 bellied, Q3-F. Qi, Q2, belied.
245 this presence. Ql, his presence; Q5~F, this present.
spigbt . . . bugs, Q3-F. Qi, Spit all those bragges. Qz omits all.
170
King. Sir, you wrong the prince :
I gave you not this freedome to brave our best
friends ;
You deserve our frowne. Go to, be better
tempered.
Phi. It must be, sir, when I am nobler usde.j^o
Gal. Ladyes,
This would have beene a patterne of succession,
Had he ne're met this mischiefe. By my life,
He is the worthiest the true name of man
This day within my knowledge. 255
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.
King. Philaster, tell me,
The injuries you aime at in your riddles. 26o
Phi. If you had my eyes, sir, and sufferance,
My griefes upon you, and my broken fortunes,
My wants great, and now nought but hopes and
feares,
248—249 to brave . . . frowne. Ql omits.
250 nobler. Qi, noblier.
251 Gal. Ladyes, etc. Qi gives this speech to Leon (Dion).
253 nire. Qi, never.
254 He is. Qi, this is. 256 your. Qi omits.
257 the other is. Qi , I'm sure tothers. my. Q6, F, Th, D, mine.
262 griefes. Qi, griefe.
263 wants. Q2, want's, nought buty Q4~F. Qi-Q3, nothing.
SCENE I.] Ptjatfttt 1 71
My wrongs would make ill riddles to be laught
at.
Dare you be still my king and right me not ? 265
King. Give me your wrongs in private.
Phi. Take them ;
And ease me of a load would bow strong Atlas.
They whisper.
Cle. He dares not stand the shock.
Dion. I cannot blame him, there's danger in't.
Every man in this age has not a soule of christall,z7o
for all men to reade their actions through : mens
hearts and faces are so farre asunder that they
hold no intelligence. Doe but view yon stranger
well, and you shall see a feaver through all his
bravery, and feele him shake like a true tenant ; 275
if he give not back his crowne againe upon the
report of an elder gun, I have no augury.
King. Goe to :
Be more your selfe, as you respect our favour ;
You'l stirre us else; sir I must have you know, 280
265 not. Qi, Q2, omit.
266-267 ZVate . . . Atlas. Qi omits.
They whisper. Qq, F, after private, 1. 266.
270-272 has . . . faces. Qi, has a soule of Christall, to read
their actions, though men's faces.
273 Doe. Qi omits. yon. Qi, the.
274 through. Qi, throw.
275 bravery. Qi, braveries. true tenant. Q I, true truant.
See Notes.
280 have. Qi, am.
172 pl)ilas?ter [ACTI.
That y'are, and shall be, at our pleasure, what
fashion we
Will put upon you. 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 weake stars leade me to ; all my weake for-
tunes. 2g5
Who dares in all this presence speake, (that is
But man of flesh, and may be mortall) tell me,
I doe npt most intirely love this prince,
And honour his full vertues !
King. Sure hee's possest.
Phi. Yes, with my fathers spirit. It's here,
O King, 29°
A dangerous spirit ! now he tells me, King,
I was a kings heire, bids me be a king,
And whispers to me, these are all my subjects.
Tis strange, he will not let me sleepe, but dives
281 y'are. Qi, W, D, you are.
281-282 That . . . gods. D prints as three lines, ending,
what, brow, gods.
282 brow, or. Qi, selfe, ore. 284 I was. £4- F, I was not.
285 leade. Q5~F, led. to. Qi-Q4, too.
286 dares. Qi, dare. £2 includes speake in the parentheses;
Ql omits the parentheses.
287 man. £2, men. 289 Sure. Qi omits.
290 spirit. It's here. Qi, spirit is.
291 now. Qit and now. 292 be. Q5-F, are.
SCENE i.] pilaster 173
Into my fancy, and there gives me shapes 295
That kneele, and doe me service, cry me
king:
But Tie suppresse him, he's a factious spirit,
And will undoe me. — \To Phar^\ Noble sir,
your hand,
I am your servant.
King. Away, I doe not like this :
Fie make you tamer, or Tie dispossesse you 300
Both of [your] life and spirit. For this time
I pardon your wild speech, without so much
As your imprisonment.
Exeunt K\_ing~\, Pba\ramond~\, Are\tku-
sat and Attendants] .
Dion. I thanke you, sir, you dare not for the
people.
Gal. Ladyes, what thinke you now of this
brave fellow ? 305
Meg. A pretty talking fellow, hot at hand.
But eye yon stranger ; is he not a fine compleate
gentleman ? O these strangers, I doe affect them
strangely : they doe the rarest home things, and
please the fullest! As I live, I could love all thes10
nation over and over for his sake.
301 your, Qi. Qz— F omit. 302 your. Qi omits.
305 Gal. Ladyes, etc. Qi gives this speech to Tra. (Thrasiline).
307 be not. Q6, F, not he. 310 I could. Q6, F, could I.
310-311 the nation. Qi, their nation.
174 Blaster [ACTI.
Gal. Gods comfort your poore head-peece,
lady, tis a weake one, and had need of a night
cap. Exit Ladyes.
Dion. See how his fancy labours, has he not 315
Spoke home, and bravely ? what a dangerous
traine
Did he give fire to \ How he shooke the King,
Made his soule melt within him, and his blood
Run into whay ! It stood upon his brow
Like a cold winter dew.
Phi. Gentlemen, 3ao
You have no suite to me ? I am no minion :
You stand (me thinkes) like men that would be
courtiers,
If I could well be flatter' d at a price,
Not to undoe your children. Y'are all honest :
Goe, get you home againe, and make your
countrey 32,5
A vertuous court, to which your great ones
may,
In their diseased age, retire and live recluse.
Cle. How doe you, worthy sir?
31* Gal. Gods, etc. Qi gives this speech to "Lad."
Gods. Q4-F, Pride. 313 lady. Qi omits, bad. Qi, has.
315 Qq and F end this line with spoke ; the division in the text
is due to Th.
323 /, W, D, B. Qq, F, you. See Notes.
324 T'are. Qi, you are. 327 recluse. Qi, recluses.
328 worthy. Qi, worth.
SCENE I.] ^ilatftet 1 75
Phi. Well, very well ;
And so well, that if the King please, I finde
I may live many yeares.
Dion The King must please, 330
Whilst we know what you are, and who you
are,
Your wrongs and vertues. Shrinke not, worthy
sir,
But ad your father to you ; in whose name,
Wee'll waken all the gods, and conjure up
The rods of vengeance, the abused people, 335
Who, like to raging torrents, shall swell high,
And so begirt the dens of these Male-dragons,
That through the strongest safety, they shall beg
For mercy at your swords point.
Phi. Friends, no more ;
Our eares may be corrupted : tis an age 34°
We dare not trust our wills to. Do you love me ?
Thra. Do we love heaven and honour ?
Phi. My Lord Dion, you had
A vertuous gentlewoman cald you father;
Is she yet alive ?
Dion. Most honor' d sir, she is ; 345
329 J finde. Qi omits. 330 The. Qi, Sir, the.
331 'what . . . ivbo. Qi, who . . . what.
332 -vertues, Qi, D, B. Qa-F, injuries.
333 a^' Q1* call- 336 to. Qi omits.
339 Friends. Qi, Friend. 340 eares. Q4'39~F, years.
343 Dion. Qi, Lyon.
176 Blaster [ACT i.
And for the penance but of an idle dreame,
Has undertooke a tedious pilgrimage.
Enter a Lady.
Phi. Is it to me, or any of these gentlemen
you come ?
Lady. To you, brave lord j the princesse
would intreate
Your present company. 350
Phi. The princesse send for me ? you are
mistaken.
La. If you be cald Philaster, tis to you.
Phi. Kisse her faire hand, and say I will attend
her. [Exit Lady.]
Dion. Doe you know what you doe ?
Phi. Yes, goe to see a woman. 355
Cle. But doe you weigh the danger you are in ?
Phi. Danger in a sweete face?
By Jupiter, I must not feare a woman.
Thra. But are you sure it was the princesse
sent ?
It may be some foule traine to catch your life. 360
346 the. Qi, a.
Enter a Lady. Qi has after 1. 344, Enter a Gentlewoman ; and
at 11. 349, 352, for La. reads, Gent- Woo.
348 Is . . . these. Qi, I' st to me, or to any of these. D, B,
begin a new verse -line with Or.
351 you are, Qi. Qa-F, Y'are.
352/0. Qi omits. 353 faire. Q4-F omit.
Exit Lady. Qi, Exit Gent-Woo; Qz-F omit.
SCENE II.] ptjtlatftet 177
Phi. I doe not thinke it, gentlemen ; she's
noble.
Her eye may shoote me dead, or those true red
And white friends in her cheekes may steale my
soul out ;
There's all the danger in't : but be what may,
Her single name hath arm'd me.
Exit Pbil\_aster] .
Dion. Goe on : 365
And be as truely happy as th'art fearelesse ! —
Come, gentlemen, let's make our friends ac-
quainted,
Least the King prove false. Exit Gentlemen.
[SCENE II.
Arethusa? s Apartment in the Pa/ace."]
Enter Aretbusa and a Lady.
Aretbusa. Comes he not ?
Lady. Madam ?
Are. Will Philaster come ?
La. Deare madam, you were wont
To credit me at first.
361 doe. Qi, dare.
363 friends. Qi, fiend friends. cbeekes, Qi. Qa-F, face.
366 tb'art. Qi, Q6, F, thou art.
Enter . . . Lady. Qi, Enter Princesse and her Gentlewoman.
Qi throughout the scene reads " Prin " for Are., and " Woo"
for La. 3 atjirst. Qi, at the first.
178 Blaster
Are. But didst thou tell me so ?
I am forgetfull, and my womans strength 5
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 ?
La. Why, well. I0
Are. And not a little fearfull ?
La. Feare, madam ! sure, he knowes 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 doe noble things, 15
As fooles in strife throw gold into the sea,
Drownd in the doing. But I know he feares ?
La. Feare, madam ! me thought his lookes
hid more
Of love than feare.
Are. Of love? To whom ? To you ?
Did you deliver those plaine words I sent, 20
With such a winning jeasture and quicke looke,
That you have caught him ?
6 dangers. F, danger. 8 Dare. Ql, dares.
1 3 all are. Q4-F, are all.
1 8 Feare. Qi omits. me thought. Ql mee thoughts.
21 'winning. Qi, woing. looke. Ql, looks.
22 him. Qi omits.
SCENE II.] ^HSi^ttt 179
La. Madam, I meane 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 25
Why she did this, or that, but has her ends,
And knowes she does well, never gave the world
Two things so opposite, so contrary,
As he and I am. If a bowle of blood
Drawne from this arme of mine would poyson
thee,
A draught of his would cure thee. Of love to
me !
La. Madam, I think I heare him.
Are. Bring him in. [Exit Lady.~\
You gods that would not have your doomes
withstood,
Whose holy wisdomes at this time it is,
To make the passions of a feeble maide, 35
The way unto your justice ; I obay.
La. Here is my Lord Philaster.
Enter Phil[aster] .
Are. Oh, tis well :
Withdraw your selfe.
26 her. Qi, his.
a8 Tivo. Qi, To. contrary. Qi, bound to put.
30 of mine. Qi omits. 31 Of. Qi omits.
33 would. Qi, will. doomes. Qi, dens.
35 passions. Q4-F, passion.
36 unto. Qi, into. 37 tis. Qi, Q2, it is.
1 80 ptjilastrr [ACT i.
Pkilaster. Madam, your messenger
Made me beleeve, you wish'd to speake with me.
Are. Tis true, Philaster ; but the words are
such, 40
I have to say, and doe so ill beseeme
The mouth of woman, that I wish them sayd,
And yet am loth to speake them. Have you
knowne,
That I have ought detracted from your worth ?
Have I in person wrong' d you ? or have set 45
My baser instruments to throw disgrace
Upon your vertues ?
Phi. Never, madam, you.
Are. Why then should you in such a publike
place,
Injure a princesse, and a scandall lay
Upon my fortunes, fam'd to be so great, 50
Calling a great part of my dowry in question ?
Phi. Madam, this truth which I shall speake
will be
Foolish : but, for your faire and vertuous selfe,
I could affoord my selfe to have no right
To any thing you wish'd.
Are. Philaster, know, 55
I must enjoy these kingdomes.
Pbt. Madam, both ?
41 doe. Qi, dos. beseeme. Qi, become.
49 Injure. Qi, Injury. 50 fam 'd. Qi, found.
53 and. Qi omits.
SCENE II.] tyl8i$tet l8l
Are. Both, or I dye : by heaven I die, Philas-
ter,
If I not calmly may enjoy them both.
Phi. I would doe much to save that noble life ;
Yet would be loth to have posterity 60
Find in our stories that Philaster gave
His right unto a scepter and a crowne,
To save a ladies longing.
Are. Nay then, heare .
I must and will have them, and more —
Phi. What, more ?
Are. Or lose that little life the gods prepared 65
To trouble this poore peece of earth withall.
Phi. Madam, what more ?
Are. Turne then away thy face.
Phi. No.
Are. Doe.
Phi. I can indure it. Turne away my face ? 70
I never yet saw enemy that lookt
So dreadfully but that I thought my selfe
As great a basiliske as he ; or spake
So horrible but that I thought my tongue
Bore thunder underneath, as much as his ; 75
Nor beast that I could turne from : shall I then
57 <fye- QT> do. heaven. Q3~F, Fate.
58 may. Qi, die. 70 can. &3-F, W, cannot.
71 yet saw. Qi, saw, yet. 72, dreadfully. F, dreadful.
73 spake. Qi, speake.
74 horrible. Q3~F, horribly.
1 82 Blaster [ACTI.
Beginne to feare sweete sounds ? a ladies voyce,
Whom I doe love ? Say you would have my
life;
Why, I will give it you, for it is of me
A thing so loath'd, and unto you that aske 80
Of so poore use, that I shall make no price.
If you intreate, I will unmov'dly heare.
Are. Yet, for my sake, a little bend thy lookes.
Phi. I doe.
Are. Then know I must have them, and
thee,
Phi. And me_?
Are. Thy love : without which, all the
land 85
Discovered yet, will serve me for no use
But to be buried in.
Phi. 1st possible ?
Are. With it, it were too little to bestow
On thee. Now, though thy breath doe strike me
dead
(Which, know, it may) I have unript my brest. 9°
Phi. Madam, you are too full of noble thoughts,
To lay a traine for this contemned life,
Which you may have for asking : to suspect
77 a ladies voyce. Qi, a womans tongue.
80 aske. Qi, beg. 81 no price. Q5, unprice.
85 Tty. Q5a> t116- 89 doe- G1 omits i Q5~F> doth-
93 may have. Qi, might have.
SCENE II.] %ty\Z*ttt 183
Were base, where I deserve no ill. Love you !
By all my hopes, I doe, above my life ! 95
But how this passion should proceed from you,
So violently, would amaze a man
That would be jealous.
Are. Another soule into my body shot,
Could not have fild me with more strength and
spirit, IOQ
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 the gods 105
Is mingled with it. Let us leave and kisse,
Lest some unwelcome guest should fall betwixt
us,
And we should part without it.
Phi. Twill be ill,
I should abide here long.
Are. Tis true ; and worse,
You should come often. How shall we devise no
To hold intelligence that our true loves,
On any new occasion may agree
What path is best to tread ?
Phi. I have a boy,
103 The gods. Qi omits.
104 nobler. Qi, worthier. 107 unwelcome. Qi, unwelcom'd.
in loves. Q6, F, lovers. nz any. Qi, an.
1 84 ljiiatfter CACTI.
Sent by the gods, I hope to this intent,
Not yet seen in the court. Hunting the bucke, 115
I found him, sitting by a fountaine side,
Of which he borrow'd some to quench his thirst,
And payd the nymph againe as much in teares ;
A garland lay him by, made by himselfe,
Of many severall flowers, bred in the vayle, 120
Stucke in that mysticke order, that the rarenesse
Delighted me ; but ever when he turnd
His tender eyes upon um, he would weepe,
As if he meant to make um grow againe.
Seeing such pretty helplesse innocence 125
Dwell in his face, I ask'd him all his story.
He told me that his parents gentle dyed,
Leaving him to the mercy of the fields,
Which gave him rootes ; and of the christall
springs,
Which did not stop their courses; and the sun, 130
Which still, he thank' d him, yielded him his
light.
Then tooke he up his garland, and did shew,
What every flower as countrey people hold,
Did signifie, andjiow^all, ordered thus,
116 fountains, Qi, F. Q2-Q6, fountaines.
Il8 againe as much. Qi, as much againe.
120 <vay/e, Qi. Q2-F, bay. 123 eyes. Qi, eye.
124 um. Qi, them.
130 their courses. Qi, the course.
131 him . . . light. Qi, it ... life.
SCENE II.] $ty\Z$ttt 185
Exprest his griefe ; and, to my thoughts, did reade 135
The prettiest lecture of his countrey art
That could be wisht ; so that, me thought, I could
Have studied it. I gladly entertaind
Him who was glad to follow; and have got
The trustiest, lovingst, and the gentlest boy, 140
That ever maister kept. Him will I send
To waite on you, and beare our hidden love.
Are. Tis well, no more.
Enter Lady.
La. Madam, the prince is come to doe his
service.
Are. What will you doe, Philaster, with your
selfe ? 145
Phi. Why, that which all the gods have
pointed out for me.
Are. Deare, hide thy self. —
Bring in the prince. [Exit Lady.~\
Phi. Hide me from Pharamond ?
When thunder speakes, which is the voyce of
God,
137 me thought. Ql, me thoughts.
138-139 Have . . . got, D's arrangement of lines. Qa-F
end first line with Aim ; Qi prints as prose.
139 who. Qi, whom. Enter Lady. Qi, Enter woman.
145 Joe, Phi/aster. Qi, Phylaster doe.
146 pointed out, W, D, B. Qq, F, appointed out.
147-148 Deare . . . prince. Qq, F, as one line.
149 God. Q4-F,Jove.
186 pilaster CACTI.
Though I doe reverence, yet I hide me not; 150
And shall a stranger prince have leave to brag
Unto a forraigne nation, that he made
Philaster hide himselfe.
Are. He cannot know it.
Phi. Though it should sleepe for ever to the
world,
It is a simple sinne to hide my selfe, 155
Which will for ever on my conscience lie.
Are. Then, good Philaster, give him scope and
way
In what he sayes ; for he is apt to speake
What you are loth to heare : for my sake, doe.
Phi. I will. ,60
Enter Pbaramond.
Pbaramond. My princely mistrisse, as true
lovers ought,
I come to kisse these faire hands, and to shew,
In outward ceremonies, the deare love
Writ in my heart.
Phi. If I shall have an answer no directlier, 165
I am gone.
150 yet . . . not. Ql, yet I doe not hide my selfe.
159 for my sake, doe. Qi omits.
Enter Pbaramond. Qi, Enter Pharamont and a woman. D, B,
Reenter Lady with Pharamond ; and after 1. 162., Exit Lady.
164 Writ in. Qi, within.
165 no directlier. Qi, or no, derectly.
SCENE II.] ^tyl&tttt 187
Pba . To what would he have answer ?
Are. To his claime unto the kingdome.
Pha. Sirra, I forbare you before the King. —
Phi. Good sir, doe so still ; I would not talke
with you. 170
Pha. But now the time is fitter, doe but offer
To make mention of right to any kingdome,
Though it be scarce habitable —
Phi. Good sir, let me goe.
Pha. And by the gods —
Phi. Peace Pharamond ! if thou —
Are. Leave us, Philaster.
Phi. I have done. 175
Pha. You are gone : by heaven Fie fetch you
backe.
Phi. You shall not need.
Pha. What now ?
Phi. Know, Pharamond,
I loathe to brawle with such a blast as thou,
Who art nought but a valiant voyce ; but if
Thou shalt provoke me further, men shall say, 180
Thou wert, and not lament it.
1 67 lubat loould. Qi , what ? what would, answer. Q5~ F,
an answer.
173 be. Qi, lie.
174 the gods. Q4—D, my sword, tbou. Qi, then.
176 Pba. You . . . backe. Qi omits; though " Pha. You"
appear as catch- words at the bottom of the page.
179 nought. Qi, nothing.
1 88 Blaster on.
Pha. Doe you slight
My greatnesse so ? and in the chamber of the
princesse ?
Phi. It is a place to which, I must confesse,
I owe a reverence : but wer't the church,
I, at the altar, there's no place so safe, 185
Where thou darst injure me, but I dare kill thee :
And for your greatnesse, know sir, I can graspe
You and your greatnesse thus, thus into nothing.
Give not a word, not a word backe ! Farewell.
Exit [Pbilaster].
Pha. Tis an odd fellow, madam, we must stop 190
His mouth with some office when we are married.
Are. You were best make him your con-
trowler.
Pba. I thinke 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 195
Before our hands be so. If then you please,
Being agreed in heart, let us not wayte
For dreaming forme, but take a little stolne
Delights, and so prevent pur joyes to come.
353
182 so. Qi, so much.
184-185 but . . . altar. Qi, but wert the Church at the high
Altar.
1 86 injure. Qi, injurie. 187 sir. Qi omits.
193 But. Qi omits. 194 but yet. Q4— F, D, B, and yet.
196 bands. Qi, hearts. If then. Qi, then if.
198 forme. F, for me.
.] }at)ila0ter 189
Are. If you dare speake such thoughts, .
I must withdraw in honour. Exit Are\_thusa\.
Pha. The constitution of my body will
never hold out till the wedding ; I must seeke
elsewhere. — Exit Pb \aramond~\ .
zoo such. Qij your.
ACTUS 2. SCCENA I.
\_An Apartment in the Palace.]
Enter Pbilaster and Bellario.
Phi/aster. And thou shalt finde her honourable,
boy,
Full of regard unto thy tender youth ;
For thine owne modesty, and for my sake,
Apter to give then thou wilt be to aske,
I, or deserve.
Bellario. Sir, you did take me up 5
When I was nothing ; and onely yet am some-
thing,
By being yours. You trusted me unknowne,
And that which you were apt to conster
A simple innocence in me, perhaps,
Might have been craft, the cunning of a boy 10
Hardned in lies and theft ; yet venter' d you,
To part my miseries and me ; for which,
I never can expect to serve a lady
That beares more honour in her breast then you.
and Bellario. Qi, and his boy called Bellario. Qi has
" Boy " for Bell, or Bellario throughout the play.
4—10 Apter . . . boy. Th's division, followed by D and B.
Qq and F end lines with deserve, nothing, yours, apt, in me, boy.
6 and onely yet am. Qi, And I am onely yet.
8 -were. F, are. IO craft. Qi, crafty.
SCENE I.] P&UatfteT 1 9!
Phi. But, boy, it will preferre thee. Thou art
young, 15
And bear'st a childish overflowing love
To them that clap thy cheekes, and speake thee
v faire yet ;
^But when thy judgement comes to rule those
passions,
Thou wilt remember best those carefull friends
That plac'd thee in the noblest way of life : 20
She is a princesse I preferre thee to.
Bell. In that small time that I have scene the
world,
I never knew a man hasty to part
With a servant he thought trusty : I remember,
My father would preferre the boyes he kept 25
To greater men then he, but did it not
Till they were growne too sawcy for himselfe.
Phi. Why, gentle boy, I finde no fault at all
In thy behaviour.
Bell. Sir, if I have made
A fault of ignorance, instruct my youth : 30
I shall be willing, if not apt, to learne ;
Age and experience will adorne my mind
With larger knowledge ; and if I have done
1 6 bear*st, Qi. Qa-F, bearest.
17 clap. Qi, claps. yet. Qi omits.
1 8 thy. Qi omits. to. Qi, no.
23-24 / never . . . remember. Th, D, end 1. 23 with
27 growne. Qi omits.
1 92 pilaster [ACTH.
A wilful fault, thinke me not past all hope
For once. What master holds so strict a hand 35
Over his boy, that he will part with him
Without one warning? Let me be corrected,
To breake my stubbornnesse, if it be so,
Rather then turn me off ; and I shall mend.
Phi. Thy love doth plead so prettily to stay, 40
That (trust me) I could weepe to part with
thee.
Alas, I doe not turne thee off: thou knowest
It is my businesse that doth call thee hence ;
And when thou art with her, thou dwellest with
me.
Thinke so, and tis so : and when time is full, 45
That thou hast well discharged this heavy trust,
Laid on so weake a one, I will againe
With joy receive thee ; as I live, I will.
Nay, weepe not, gentle boy. Tis more then
time
Thou didst attend the princesse.
Bell. I am gone. 50
But since I am to part with you, my lord,
And none knowes whether I shall live to doe
More service for you, take this little praier :
39 Rather. Qz misprints, Rathet. 40 doth. Qi, dos.
41 trust. Qz misprints, tust. 42 knowest. Qi, knowst.
43 doth. Qi, dos.
44 dwellest. Qi, dwest ; Q3~F, dwel'st.
] pt)tla0ter 193
Heaven blesse your loves, your fights, all your
designes ;
May sicke men, if they have your wish, be well ; 55
And heaven hate those you curse, though I be
one ! Exit.
Phi. The love of boyes unto their lords is
strange ;
I have read wonders of it ; yet this boy
For my sake (if a man may judge by lookes
And speech) would out-doe story. I may see 60
A day to pay him for his loyalty.
Exit Pbi[Iaster\.
[SCENE II.
A Gallery in the Pa lace. ~]
Enter Pbaramond,
Pbaramond. Why should these ladyes stay so
long ? They must come this way ; I know the
queene imployes um not, for the reverend mo-
ther sent mee word they would all bee for the
garden. If they should all prove honest now, I 5
were in a faire taking; I was never so long
without sport in my life, and, in my conscience,
tis not my fault. Oh, for our countrey ladyes !
54 fights. Qi, sighes. 56 heaven. Qi, F, Heavens.
57 lords. Q3, Lord. 60 may. Qi, must.
7 sport. Qi, sport before.
194 pljilatfter [ACTH.
Enter Galatea.
Heere's one boulted; Fie hound at her. — [Ma-
dam!]
Galatea. Your grace ! 10
Pba. Shall I not be a trouble ?
Gal. Not to me sir.
Pha. Nay, nay, you are too quicke ; by this
sweete hand —
Gal. You'l be forsworn, sir; tis but an old
glove.
If you will talke at distance, I am for you :
But, good prince, be not bawdy, nor doe not
brag: 15
These two I barre,
And then I thinke, I shall have sence enough,
To answer all the waighty apothegmes
Your roiall blood shall manage.
Pba. Deare lady, can you love ? 20
Gal. Deare prince, how deare ? I ne're cost
you a coach yet, nor put you to the deare re-
pentance of a banquet. Heere's no scarlet, sir,
Enter Galatea, placed as in Qi. Q2-F place after at her.
9 one . . . hound. Q5a, on ... bound. Madam. Only Qi.
12 you are. Qi, y'are.
13-19 You" I be . . . manage. Division of lines as in Th, D,
B ; Qq, F, print as prose.
15 But. Qi omits. 1 6 / barre. Qi, I onely barre.
22 coach. Qi, couch.
23 a banquet. Qi, a play and a banquet.
SCM«II.] pilaster 195
to blush the sinne out it was given for. This
wyer mine owne haire covers ; and this face has 25
beene so farre from beeing deare to any, that it
ne're cost penny painting; and for the rest of
my poore wardrobe, such as you see, it leaves
no hand behind it, to make the jealous mercers
wife curse our good doings. 30
Pha. You mistake me, lady.
Gal. Lord, I doe so : would you or I could
helpe it !
[Pha. Y'are very dangerous bitter, like a po-
tion.
Gal. No, sir, I do not mean to purge you,
Though I meane to purge a little time on you.] 35
Pha. Do ladyes of this countrey use to give
No more respect to men of my full being ?
Gal. Full being ? I understand you not, un-
lesse your grace meanes growing to fatnesse ;
and then your onely remedy (upon my know- 40
24-25 to blush . . . face. Qi, to make you blush, this is my
owne hay re, and this face.
27 penny. Qi, &5a, a peny.
28 wardrobe. Qi, Q6 wardrop ; Q5b, wardrope.
29 mercers. Qi, silke-mans.
30 our good doings. Qi, our doing.
31 mistake. Qi, much mistake. 32 Gal. F misprints " Pha."
33-35 Pka. . . .you. Only in Qi ; there as prose; verse-
division by D.
36-37 Do ... being. Verse-division by Th, D, B ; prose in
196 pilaster [ACTII.
ledge, prince) is, in a morning, a cuppe of neate
white wine, brewd with carduus ; then fast till
supper ; about eight you may eate : use exercise,
and keepe a sparrow-hawke, — you can shoot in
a tiller : but of all, your grace must flie phlebo- 45
tomie, fresh porke, conger, and clarified whay;
they are all dullers of the vitall spirits.
Pha. Lady, you talke of nothing all this while.
Gal. .Tis very true, sir, I talke of you.
Pha. This is a crafty wench ; I like her wit 50
well ; twill bee rare to stirre up a leaden appe-
tite: she's a Danae, and must be courted in a
showre of gold. — Madam, look here, all these,
and more, then —
Gal. What have you there, my lord ? Gold ! 55
Now, as I live, tis faire gold : you would have
silver for it to play with the pages ; you could
not have taken me in a worse time ; but if you
have present use, my lord, Pie send my man
with silver, and keepe your gold for you. 60
Pha. Lady, lady !
42 carduus. Qi, Qz, cardus. 43 eight. Qi, five.
46 conger. Qi, and Conger.
47 are all. Qi, are. spirits. Qi, anymales.
48 while. Qi, time.
52, a Danae. Qi, daintie. in. Qi, with.
54 more, then — . D, B, more than — . 55 have. Qi, ha.
56—57 you would . . .for it. Qi, you'd . . . fort.
58 time. Qi, time sir. 60 gold for. Qi, B, gold safe for.
Qi adds, She slips behind the Orras.
197
Gal. She's comming, sir, behind, will take
white mony.
Yet for all this He match yee.
Exit Gal\atea\ behind the hangings*
Pha. If there be but two such more in this
kingdome, and neere the court, we may even 65
hang up our harpes : ten such camphier consti-
tutions as this would call the golden age againe
in question, and teach the old way for every ill
fac't husband to get his owne children ; and
what a mischiefe that would breed, let all con- ?0
sider.
Enter Megra.
Heere's another : if she be of the same last, the
devill shall plucke her on. — Many faire morn-
ings, lady !
Megra. As many mornings bring as many
daies, 75
Faire, sweete, and hopefull to your grace.
Pha. \_aside~] . She gives good words yet : sure
this wench is free. —
If your more serious businesse doe not call you,
62—63 Gal. She's comming . . . hangings. Ql reads :
Shes comming sir behind,
Will ye take white money yet for all this. Exit.
64-65 but . . . kingdome. Qi, but two such in this Kingdome
more j F omits but.
65 even. Qi, ene. 67 ivould, Qi. Qz-F, will.
78 call you. Qi, call you Lady.
198
Let me hold quarter with you ; wee'll talke an
houre
Out quickly.
Meg. What would your grace talke of? 80
Pha. Of some such pretty subject as your
selfe.
Pie go no further then your eye, or lip;
There's theame enough for one man for an age.
Meg. Sir, they stand right, and my lips are
yet even,
Smooth, young enough, ripe enough, and red
enough, 85
Or my glasse wrongs me.
Pba. O, they are two twind cherries died in
blushes,
Which those faire sunnes above with their bright
beames
Reflect upon and ripen ! Sweetest beauty,
Bow down those branches, that the longing taste 90
Of the faint looker on may meete those blessings,
And taste, and live. [They kisse.~\
Meg. O delicate sweete Prince !
She that hath snow enough about her heart
79 talke. Qa, Q6, F, take. D ends line with talke.
82 or. Qi, your. 83 theame. Qi, time.
85 and. Q4*39-F omit. 87 blushes. Qi, blush.
88 bright. Qi, deepe.
91 faint. Qi, sweete. those. Qi, these.
They kisse. Only in Qi.
SCENE II.] tytylXtittt 1 99
To take the wanton spring of ten such lynes off,
May be a nunne without probation. 95
Sir, you have in such neate poetry gathered a
kisse,
That if I had but five lines of that number,
Such pretty begging blankes, I should commend
Your forehead, or your cheekes, and kisse you
too.
Pha. Doe it in prose ; you cannot misse it,
madam, 100
Meg. I shall, I shall.
Pha. By my life [but] you shall not :
Pie prompt you first. [Kisses herJ\ Can you doe
it now ?
Meg. Me thinkes tis easie, now you ha don't
before [me] .
But yet I should sticke at it — [Kisses bim.~\
Pha. Sticke till to morrow ;
Fie ne're part you, sweetest. But we lose time; 105
Can you love me ?
94 °ff- Q1 omits.
95 May . . . probation. Qi, it may be a number without
Probatum.
95—96 May . . . kisse. Verse-division as in Qq and Fj modern
eds. end the first line with Sir ; Qi prints speech as prose.
100 in. Qi, by. 101 but, Qi.
loa Kisses her, W, D, B.
103 now . . . me, Qi, D, B ; Qa-F, now I ha don't before.
104 But. Qi, And. / should. B, should I.
Kisses him, editor. 105 ne're. Qi, never.
200 {^flatter [ACT n.
Meg. Love you, my lord ? How would you
have me love you ?
Pba. I'le teach you in a short sentence, 'cause
I will not load your memory ; this is all : love
me, and lye with me. no
Meg. Was it lie with you that you sayd ? Tis
impossible.
Pba. Not to a willing minde, that will en-
deavor; if I doe not teach you to doe it as
easily in one night as you'l goe to bed, Fie loosens
my royall blood for't.
Meg. Why, prince, you have a lady of your
owne that yet wants teaching.
Pba. Fie sooner teach a mare the old meas-
ures then teach her any thing belonging to the 120
function : she's afraid to lie with her selfe, if
she have but any masculine imaginations about
her. I know, when we are married, I must rav-
ish her.
Meg. By mine honor, that's a foule fault 115
indeed, but time and your good helpe will weare
it out, sir.
107 me love you. Qi, me love ye. The line is printed as prose
in Qq, F.
1 1 7-1 1 8 Why . . . teaching. D, B, two verse lines, beginning
the second with That.
122 any . . . imaginations. Qi, my . . . imagination.
125-127 By . . . sir. Qi, D, B, print as verse beginning
second line with But.
125 mine, only £)2 ; Qq, F, D, B, my. that's. D, that is.
SCENE II.] Ji^tlatfter 201
Pba. And for any other I see, excepting your
deare selfe, dearest lady, I had rather be Sir Tim
the schoolemaster, and leape a dairye maid, 130
madam.
Meg. Has your grace scene the court-starre,
Galatea ?
Pba. Out upon her ! She's as could of her
favour as an appoplex : she saild by but now. 135
Meg. And how doe you hold her wit, sir ?
Pba. I hold her wit ! The strength of all the
guard cannot hold it ; if they were tied to it,
she would blow um out of the kingdome. They
talke of Jupiter, he's but a squib cracker to 140
her : looke well about you, and you may finde a
tongue-bolt. But speake, sweete lady, shall I be
freely welcome ?
Meg. Whither?
Pba. To your bed ; if you mistrust my faith, 145
you doe mee the unnoblest wrong.
Meg. I dare not, prince, I dare not.
Pba. Make your owne conditions, my purse
128 any. Qi, my. 129 Tim the. Qi, Timen a.
130 leape. Qi, keepe.
131 madam, only Q2 and £3. D and B omit.
136 And Aoiv . . . loity sir. Qi, how . . . wit.
138 to it. Qi, toot.
141-142 looke . . . bolt. Qi omits.
144 Whither? Qi, Q2, whether.
146 unnoblest. Qi, most unnoblest.
147 / dare not. Qi omits.
202 ljilatfter [ACT n.
shall seal um, and what you dare imagine you
can want, Tie furnish you withall. Give two 150
houres to your thoughts every morning about it.
Come, I know you are bashful ;
Speake in my eare, will you be mine ? Keepe
this,
And with it, me : soone I will visit you.
[Gives money. ,]
Meg. My Lord, my chamber's most unsafe,
but when tis night 155
He finde some means to slippe into your lodg-
ing :
Till when —
Pha. Till when, this, and my heart goe
with thee ! Exeunt [several ways.]
Enter Galatea from behind the hangings.
Gal. Oh thou pernitious petticote prince, are
these your vertues ? Well, if I doe not lay a
traine to blow your sport up, I am no woman :i 60
and, Lady Towsabell, He fit you for't.
Exit Gal[atea~\.
150—151 tioo houres. Qi, worship. i$zyouare. Qi,y'are.
153-157 Speake . . . thee. D's division ; prose in Qq and F.
154 / will. Qi, I shall.
Gives money, editor. W, D, B, Gives a ring.
155 unsafe. Qi, uncertaine.
157 several ways, Q3~F. Qi, Exit ambo.
hangings. Qi, orras.
161 Toivsabell. Qi, Dowsabell. for't. Qi,forit.
SCENE III.] ^ft$ttt 203
[SCENE III.
Arethusa's Apartment in the Palace.~\
Enter Arethusa and a Lady.
Arethusa. Where's the boy ?
Lady. Within, madam.
Are. Gave you him gold to buy him cloathes ?
La. I did.
Are. And has he don't ? 5
La. Yes, madam.
Are. Tis a pretty sad-talking boy, is it not ?
Asked you his name ?
La. No, madam.
Enter Galatea.
Are. O you are welcome, what good newes ? 10
Gal. As good as any one can tell your grace,
That sayes she has done that you would have
wish'd.
Are. Hast thou discovered ?
Gal. I have strain'd a point of modesty for
you.
Are. I preethee how ? 15
Enter . . . Lady. Qi, Enter Princesse and her Gentle-
woman. Qi abbreviates " Prin" and "Wo" throughout the
scene.
2 madam. Qi omits. 7 is it. Qi, i'st.
I^ has. Q6, F, hath.
1 3-1 5 Hast . . . hoiv. D as two lines, ending first with point.
204 Blaster [ACT n.
Gal. In listning after bawdery. I see, let a
lady live never so modestly, shee shall bee sure
to finde a lawfull time to barken after bawdery ;
your prince, brave Pharamond, was so hot on't.
Are. With whom ? 20
Gal. Why, with the lady I suspected : I can
tell the time and place.
Are. O when, and where ?
Gal. To-night, his lodging.
Are. Runne thy selfe into the presence ; min-
gle there again e 25
With other ladies ; leave the rest to me.
[Exit Galatea.']
If Desteny (to whom we dare not say,
" Why didst thou this ") have not decreed it so
In lasting leaves (whose smallest carracters
Was never alterd yet), this match shall breake. — 30
Where's the boy ?
La. Here, madam.
Enter Bellario.
Are. Sir, you are sad to change your service,
ist not so ?
16-19 In . . . on't. D as four lines, ending lady, finde,
baivdery, on't.
17 shee. Qi, they. a I suspected. Q4~F, suspect.
25 presence. Qi, presents.
28 Why didst thou this, Th, W, B. Qq, F, D, Why thou
didst this.
30 Was. F, D, B, Were. altered, Qz misprints, atltered.
33 you are. Qi, your.
SCENE III.] ^H^ttt 205
Eellario. Madam, I have not chang'd ; I wayte
on you,
To doe him service.
Are. Thou disclaimst in me; 35
Tell me thy name.
Bell. Bellario.
Are. Thou canst sing and play ?
Bell. If griefe will give me leave, madam,! can.
Are. Alas, what kinde of griefe can thy yeares
know ? 40
Hadst thou a curst master when thou wentst to
schoole ?
Thou art not capable of other griefe ;
Thy browes and cheekes are smooth as waters be
When no breath troubles them : believe me, boy,
Care seekes out wrinckled browes and hollow
eyes, 45
And builds himselfe caves to abide in them.
Come, sir, tell me truely, doth your lord love
me ?
Bell. Love, madam ! I know not what it is.
Are. Canst thou know griefe, and never yet
knewest love ?
35 Thou disclaimst in me. Qi, Then trust in me.
41 curst master. Qi, crosse schoole-maister.
43 'waters. Ql, water.
44 troubles. £5, Q6, trouble. 45 out. Qi omits.
46 himselfe. Qi, itselfe. 47 doth. Q4-F, does.
48 madam ! I know not. Qi, I know not Madame.
206 pilaster [ACT ii.
Thou art deceived, boy ; does he speake of me 50
As if he wish'd me well ?
Bell. If it be love,
To forget all respect to his owne friends,
With thinking of your face ; if it be love,
To sit crosse arm'd and thinke away the day,
Mingled with starts, crying your name as loud 55
And hastily, as men i'the streetes doe fire ;
If it be love, to weepe himselfe away,
When he but heares of any lady dead
Or kil'd, because it might have beene your
chance ;
If, when he goes to rest (which will not be), 60
Twixt every prayer he saies, to name you once,
As others drop a bead, be to be in love ;
Then, madam, I dare sweare he loves you.
Are. O, y'are a cunning boy, and taught to
lie 65
For your lords credit ; but thou knowest, a lie
That beares this sound is welcomer to me
Then any truth that saies he loves me not.
50 deceived. Qi, deceiv'd. 52 to his. Q4-F, of his.
53 With. Q4-F, In. 54 thinke. Q4-F, sigh.
55 Mingled 'with starts. Qi, with mingling starts and.
56 And hastily. Qi omits. i'the. Qi, in.
58 lady. Qi, woman.
62 a bead. Qi, beades. Q2 misprints, beard.
63 you. Qi, ye. 64-65 to lie For your. Qi, to your.
65 knowest. Qi, know'st.
iv.] ^ilatfter 207
Leade the way, boy. — [To Lady.~\ Doe you
attend me too. —
Tis thy lords businesse hastes me thus. Away !
Exeunt.
[SCENE IV.
Before Pbaramond's Lodging in the Court of the
Palace.]
Enter Dion, Cleremont, Tbrasilin, Megra, Galatea.
Dion. Come, ladyes, shall we talke a round ?
As men
Doe walke a mile, women should talke an houre
After supper ; tis their exercise.
Galatea. Tis late.
Megra. Tis all
My eyes will doe to lead me to my bed.
Gal. I feare they are so heavy, you'll scarce
finde
The way to your owne lodging with um to-night,
Enter Pbaramond.
Thrasiline. The prince!
69 thus. A<way. Qi, thus away.
Enter, etc. Qi, Enter the three Gentlewomen, Megra, Galla-
tea, and another Lady.
I Dion. Qi, "Tra." talke. Q6, F, take.
7 they are. Qi, theyre. you'll. Qa, theile.
8 oiune. Q3~ F omit.
Enter Pharamond. Qi, Enter Pharamont, the Princesse boy,
and a woman. Qi gives " Prin." for Are. throughout scene.
208 J^t)ila0ter [ACT n.
Pbaramond. Not abed, ladyes ? y'are good sit-
ters-up ; I0
What thinke you of a pleasant dreame to last
Till morning.
Meg. I should chose, my lord, a pleasing wake
before it.
Enter Aretbusa and Be liar to.
Aretbusa. Tis well, my lord : y'are courting
of these ladyes.
1st not late, gentlemen ? 15
Cleremont. Yes, madam.
Are. Waite you there. Exit Aretbusa.
Meg. \aside\ . She's jealous, as I live. — Looke
you, my lord,
The princess has a Hilas, an Adonis.
Pha. His forme is angell-like. 20
Meg. Why, this is he must, when you are wed,
Sit by your pillow, like young Apollo, with
His hand and voyce binding your thoughts in
sleep :
The princesse does provide him for you, and
for her selfe.
II pleasant. Qi, pleasing. 13 should. Ql, shall.
Enter, etc. Ql omits.
14 my lord. Qi omits. these. Qj— F omit.
1 6 Cleremont. Ql, " Gall." 18 you. Ql omits.
19 has. Qi omits. Hilas. Qi, Hilus.
21 this is he must. Qi, this is that j D, B, this is he that.
SCENE IV.]
Pha. I finde no musique in these boyes.
Meg. Nor I. 25
They can doe little, and that small they doe,
They have not wit to hide.
Dion. Serves he the princesse ?
Thra. Yes.
Dion. Tis a sweete boy; how brave
she keepes him !
Pha. Ladyes all, good rest ; I meane to kill
a bucke
To morrow morning, ere y'ave done your
dreames. 30
Meg. All happinesse attend your grace.
\_Exit Pharamond."^
Gentlemen, good rest. —
Come shall we to bed ?
Gal. Yes, — all good night.
Exit Gal\_atea and] Meg[ra],
Dion. May your dreames be true to you. —
What shall we doe, gallants ? Tis late ; the King
Is up still : see he comes, a guard along 35
With him.
Enter King, Aretbusa and Guard.
King. Looke your intelligence be true.
27 hide. Qi, hide it. 30 y'ave. Qi, you have j Q6, y'are.
32 Come. Qi omits. Exit, etc. Qi omits.
Enter . . . Guard. Qi has after late (1. 34), Enter the King,
the Princesse, and a guard. 36 your. Qi omits.
210 Blaster [ACT n.
Are. Upon my life it is : and I doe hope
Your highnesse will not tie me to a man
That in the heate of wooing throwes me off,
And takes another.
Dion. What should this meane ? 40
King. If it be true,
That lady had been better have embrac'd
Cureless diseases ; get you to your rest ;
Ex\eunt\ Are \tbus a and~\Bell\_ario\.
You shall be righted. Gentlemen, draw neere,
We shall imploy you. Is young Pharamond 45
Come to his lodging ?
Dion. I saw him enter there.
King. Haste some of you, and cunningly dis-
cover,
If Megra be in her lodging. [Exit Dion.]
Cle. Sir,
She parted hence but now with other ladyes. 50
King. If she be there, we shall not need to
make
A vaine discovery of our suspition.
[Aside.~\ You gods, I see that who unrighteously
Holds wealth or state from others, shall be curst
i In that which meaner men are blest withall : 55
Ages to come shall know no male of him
Left to inherit, and his name shall be
4Z have. Qi omits. Exeunt, etc. Qi omits.
45 you. Qi,ye. Exit Dion. Qi has " Exit Leon"
after 1. 50. 49 Cle. Qi, "Leon."
SCENE IV.] P^tlatfter 2 1 1
Blotted from earth ; if he have any child,
It shall be crossely match'd ; the gods themselves
Shall sow wilde strife betwixt her lord and her. 60
Yet, if it be your wills, forgive the sinne
I have committed; let it not fall
Upon this understanding child of mine !
She has not broke your lawes. But how can I
Looke to be heard of gods that must be just, 65
Praying upon the ground I hold by wrong ?
Enter Dion.
Dion. Sir, I have asked, and her women
sweare she is within ; but they, I thinke, are
bawdes. I told um, I must speake with her ;
they laught, and said their lady lay speechlesse. 70
I said, my business was important ; they said,
their lady was about it. I grew hot, and cryed,
my businesse was a matter that concern'd life
and death ; they answered, so was sleeping, at
which their lady was. I urg'd againe, shee had 75
scarce time to bee so since last I saw her ; they
smilde againe, and seem'd to instruct mee that
sleeping was nothing but lying downe and wink-
ing. Answers more direct I could not get : in
short, sir, I thinke she is not there. 80
58 earth. Qi, the earth. 63 understanding. Q I, undeserving.
64 She. Qi,ifshe. can. Q I, could. 66 by. Qi, in.
79 get- Q1) 8et fr°m them.
%Q I thinke. Q I omits. she is. Qi, shee's.
212 Blaster [ACTH.
King. Tis then no time to dally. — You o'th
guard,
Waite at the backe dore of the princes lodging,
And see that none passe thence upon your lives.
Knocke, gentlemen ; knocke loud ; lowder yet :
What, has their pleasure taken off their hear-
ing ? — 85
Pie breake your meditations. — Knocke againe.
— Not yet ? I doe not thinke he sleepes, having
this
Larum by him. — Once more, Pharamond! prince !
Pbaramond above.
Pha. What sawcy groome knocks at this
dead of night ?
Where be our waiters ? By my vexed soule, 90
He meetes his death that meetes me, for this
boldnesse.
King. Prince, [prince,] you wrong your
thoughts, we are your friends :
Come downe.
Pba. The King !
8 1 no time. ££53, not time. o"th. Qi, a'th.
84 loivder yet. Qi omits.
85 their . . . their. Qi, your . . . your.
86 meditations. Qi, meditation.
againe. Qi, again, and louder.
87—88 this Larum, £3— F. Qi,such larumes. Qz, his Larum.
88 prince. Q i omits, and adds stage-direction, "They knock."
92 Prince, prince, Qi. Ql-F, Prince.
SCENE IV.] tytylmtt 213
King. The same, sir ; come downe ;
We have cause of present counsell with you.
Pha. If your grace please to use me, Fie
attend you 95
To your chamber. Pba[ramond~\ below.
King. No, tis too late, prince ; Fie make bold
with yours.
Pha. I have some private reasons to my selfe,
Makes me unmannerly, and say you cannot. —
\_Tbey prease to come /#.]
Nay, prease not forward, gentlemen ; he must
come 100
Through my life that comes here.
King. Sir, be resolv'd, I must and will come.
— Enter !
Pha. I will not be dishonor' d :
He that enters, enters upon his death.
Sir, tis a signe you make no stranger of me, 105
To bring these renegades to my chamber,
At these unseasoned hours.
King. Why doe you
93 The same, sir; come detune, Qi-F. Qi, D, The same, sir.
Come down sir ; B, The same. Come down, sir.
98 some. Qi, certaine. my selfe. Qi, my selfe sir.
They prease to come in, Qi. 100 gentlemen. Qi omits.
loz resoled, I must . . . Enter, Qz, £3, D, B. Qi, re-
solved, I must come, and will come enter. £4— F misprint Enter at
end of preceding line.
103 dishonored. Qi, dishonoured thus.
106 renegados. Qi, runagates.
214 pilaster [ACT ii.
Chafe your selfe so ? you are not wrong'd, nor
shall be ;
Onely Fie search your lodging, for some cause
To our selfe knowne. — Enter, I say.
Pha. I say no. no
Meg\ra\ above.
Meg. Let um enter, prince, let um enter ;
I am up and ready : I know there businesse ;
Tis the poore breaking of a ladies honour,
They hunt so hotly after ; let um enjoy it. —
You have your businesse, gentlemen; I lay
here. — "5
O, my lord the King, this is not noble in you,
To make publique the weakenesse of a woman.
King. Come downe.
Meg. I dare, my lord : your whootings and
your clamors,
Your private whispers and your broad fleerings, 120
Can no more vex my soule then this base car-
riage ;
But I have vengance yet in store for some
Shall, in the most contempt you can have of me,
Be joy and nourishment.
1 08 so. Qi omits. 109 Tie. Qi omits.
no knoivne. Qi omits. say no. Qi, so no.
in-iia Let um . . . businesse. Verse-division of D.
Qi ends first line with «/>, omitting and ready, and printing the rest
of the speech as prose. Qi— F end first line with prince.
116 the. Qi, a. 119 tvhootings. Qi, whoting 5 D, hootings.
122, yet. Qi, still.
SCENE IV.]
King. Will you come downe ?
Meg. Yes, to laugh at your worst; but I
shall wring you, I4j
If my skill faile me not. [Exit Megra above.]
King. Sir, I must dearely chide you for this
loosenesse ;
You have wrong' d a worthy lady; but, no
more. —
Conduct him to my lodging, and to bed.
\_Exeunt Pbaramond and Attendants^
Cle. Get him another wench, and you bring
him to bed in deed. 130
Dion. Tis strange a man cannot ride a stage
Or two, to breathe himselfe, without a warrant
If this geere hold, that lodgings be searched thus,
Pray God we may lie with our owne wives in
safety,
That they be not by some tricke of state mistaken! 135
Enter [Attendants'] with Megra [below].
King. Now lady of honour, where's your
honour now ?
125 wring. Q5a, Q6, F, wrong.
127 dearely chide you. Qi, chide you dearly.
128 ivorthy. Qi omits. 129 my. Ql, his.
Exeunt . . . Attendants, D.
131-135 Tis . . . mistaken. Verse-division as in Q2-F. Ql
ends lines two, hold, lie, be not, mistaken.
131 stage, Qi. Q2-F, Stagg or Stagge.
134 God. Q4-F, heaven. Enter . . . below. Qi omits,
but has in margin, " they come downe to the King."
216 &iiawr [ACT ii.
No man can fit your pallat but the prince.
Thou most ill shrowded rottennesse, thou piece
Made by a painter and a pothicary,
Thou troubled sea of lust, thou wildernesse 140
Inhabited by wild thoughts, thou swolne clowd
Of infection, thou ripe mine of all diseases :
Thou all-sinne, all-hell, and last, all-divells, tell
me,
Had you none to pull on with your courtesies,
But he that must be mine, and wrong my
daughter? I45
By all the gods, all these, and all the pages,
And all the court shall hoote thee through the
court,
Fling rotten oranges, make riba'd rimes,
And scare thy name with candles upon walls !
Doe ye laugh, lady Venus ? 150
Meg. Faith, sir, you must pardon me ;
I cannot chuse but laugh to see you merry.
If you doe this, O King, nay, if you dare doe it,
By all those gods you swore by, and as many
More of my owne, I will have fellowes, and
•such 155
Fellowes in it as shall make noble mirth :
139 a pothicary. Qi, Apothecaries.
143 all-hell. Qi, and hell. Hyphens in this line inserted by D.
146 and. Qi omits. 148 riba" d. Qi, reball ; Q3-F, ribald.
150^- Q',Q4'39-F> y°u-
154 those. Q6, F, these. as. Qi, that.
iv.] ^ila0ter 217
The princesse, your deare daughter, shall stand
by me
On walls, and sung in ballads, any thing.
Urge me no more ; I know her, and her haunts,
Her layes, leaps, and outlayes, and will discover
all ; 1 60
Nay, will dishonor her. I know the boy
She keepes, a handsome boy, about eighteene ;
Know whal.she does with him, where, and when.
Come sir, you put me to a womans madnesse,
The glory of a fury; and if I doe not 165
Doe it to the height —
King. What boy is this she raves at ?
Meg. Alas, good-minded prince, you know
not these things ;
I am loath to reveale um. Keepe this fault
As you would keepe your health from the hot
aire
Of the corrupted people; or, by heaven, I70
I will not fall alone. What I have knowne,
Shall be as publique as a print ; all tongues
Shall speake it as they doe the language they
Are borne in, as free and commonly ; Tie set it
158 On. Qi, Upon. any. Qi, or any.
1 60 layes . . . outlayes. Qi, fayre leaps And out-lying.
161 Nay. Qi, and.
163 Know. Qi, Knowes. and". Qi omits.
1 66 this. Qi, that. 171 fall. Qi, sinke.
172 a. Qi, in. 173-174 they Are. Qi, they're.
Like a prodigious starre for all to gaze at, 175
And so high and glowing that other kingdomes
far and forraigne
Shall reade it there, nay, travaile with it, till they
finde
No tongue to make it more, nor no more people ;
And then behold the fall of your faire princesse.
King. Has she a boy ? 180
Cle. So please your grace, I have scene a boy
wayte
On her, a faire boy.
King. Go, get you to your quarter :
For this time Fie studdy to forget you.
Meg. Do you studdy to forget me, and Fie
studdy
To forget you. 185
Ex\euni\ K\ing\y Meg\ra\, \and~\ Guard.
Cle. Why here's a male spirit fit for Hercu-
les, if ever there bee nine worthies of women, this
wench shall ride astride, and be their captaine.
Dion. Sure, she has a garrison of di veils in her
tongue, shee uttered such balls of wild-fire. She 190
176 And • . . forraigne. Th omits And and other.
177 nay. Qi omits.
181 Cle. Qi, "Leon." D, B, end line with on her.
182 quarter. Qi, quarters. 183 fie. W, D, B, I will.
184-185 Do . . . forget you. Qi, Do so, and i'le forget
your — . 1 86 Why. Qi omits. fit. Q3-F omit.
187 worthies. Qi, worthy. 'women. £3, woman.
1 88 astride. Qi, aside.
189 has. F, hath. 190 uttered. F, uttereth.
SCENE IV.] P&tlatftfl: 2 1 9
has so netled the King, that all the doctors in the
countrey will scarce cure him. That boy was a
strange-found-out antidote to cure her infection ;
that boy, that princesse* boy ; that brave, chaste,
vertuous ladies boy; and a faire boy, a well 195
spoken boy ! All these considered, can make
nothing else — but there I leave you, gentlemen.
Thra. Nay, weele goe wander with you.
Exeunt.
191 netled, Qi, £>4~F. Qz, Q3, metled.
192 scarce. Qi, not.
193 infection, Q4-F. Qi-Q3, infections.
194 brave, chaste. Qi, chast, brave.
197 you. £i, yee.
ACTUS 3. SCOENA I.
[The Court of tbe Palace.~\
Enter Cle\_remont~\, Di\pn and~\ Tbra[silini\.
Cleremont. Nay, doubtlesse tis true.
Dion. I, and tis the gods
That raisde this punishment to scourge the King
With his own issue. Is it not a shame
For us that should write noble in the land, 5
For us that should be freemen, to behold
A man that is the bravery of his age,
Philaster, prest downe from his royall right
By this regardlesse king ? and only looke,
And see the scepter ready to be cast 10
Into the hands of that lascivious lady
That lives in lust with a smooth boy, now to be
Married to yon strange prince ; who, but that
people
Please to let him be a prince, is borne a slave
In that which should be his most noble part, 15
His minde.
Tkrastline. That man that would not stirre
with you
Enter, etc. Q I, Enter three Gentlemen. I Nay. Ql, And.
5 For us. Qi, for all us. should. Qi omits.
I a— 14 That . . . stave. W, D, B, end lines with married, please.
14 prince. Ql, thing.
SCENE I.] &tylS&ttt 221
To aide Philaster, let the gods forget
That such a creature walkes upon the earth !
Cle. Philaster is too backward in't himselfe ;
The gentry doe awaite it, and the people, 20
Against their nature, are all bent for him,
And like a field of standing corne, that's moved
With a stiffe gale, their heads bow all one way.
Dion. The onely cause that drawes Philaster
backe
prom this attempt, is the faire princesse' love, 25
Which he admires, and we can now confute.
Tbra. Perhaps he'le not beleeve it.
Dion. Why, gentlemen, tis without question
so.
Cle. I, tis past speech, she lives dishonestly.
But how shall we, if he be curious, worke 30
Upon his faith ?
Tbra. We all are satisfied within our selves.
Dion. Since it is true, and tends to his owne
good,
Fie make this new report to be my knowledge ;
I'le say I know it; nay, Pie sweare I saw it. 35
19 Philaster . . . himselfe. Qi omits. 21 bent. Qi omits.
22 of. Qi, if. thafs. Ql omits. 24 draives. Qi, draweth.
26 confute. Qi, comfort. 27 it. Ql omits.
27-31 Perhaps . . . faith. D ends lines with gentlemen,
speech, shall ive, faith.
28 Dion. Qi, "Cle." 29 Cle. Qi, "Leon."
31 Upon his faith. Qi, on his beleefe.
33 tends. Qi, Lords. 35 nay. Qi omits.
222 p#la0tnr [ACT in.
Cle. It will be best.
Tbra. Twill move him
Enter Pbilas[ter\.
Dion. Here he comes.
Good morrow to your honor : we have spent
Some time in seeking you.
Phi/aster. My worthy friends,
You that can keepe your memories to know
Your friend in miseries, and cannot frowne 40
On men disgrac'd for vertue, a good day
Attend you all. What service may I do
Worthy your acceptation ?
Dion. My good lord,
We come to urge that vertue, which we know
Lives in your breast, forth. Rise, and make a
head ; 45
The nobles and the people are all dulPd
With this usurping king; and not a man
That ever heard the word, or knew such a thing
As vertue, but will second your attempts.
36-38 It 'will . . . friends. B's verse-division. Qq, F, end
lines with best, him, honor, you, friends.
Enter Philaster. Qi-Q4 print after be best.
36 Dion. Qi, "Cle."
40-41 froivne . . . disgraced. Qi, frame . . . disgrace.
43 good. Qi omits.
45 breast, forth. Rise. Qq, F, breast, forth, rise.
46 duird. Qi, dull.
48 or knew, Q3~F. Qi, knowes j Q2, or knowne ; B (qy.),
or knows.
SCENE I.] tytyl&Xttt 22$
Phi. How honourable is this love in you 50
To me that have deserv'd none ! Know, my
friends,
(You that were borne to shame your poore Phi-
laster,
With too much courtesie) I could affoord
To melt my selfe in thankes ; hut my
Are not yet ripe. Suffice it, that ere long 55
I shall imploy your loves : but yet the time
Is short of what I would.
Dion. The time is fuller, sir, then you expect ;
That which hereafter will not, perhaps, be
reached
By violence, may now be caught. As for the
King, 60
You know the people have long hated him ;
But now the princesse, whom they lov'd —
Phi. Why, what of her ?
Dion. Is loath'd as much as he.
Phi. By what strange meanes ?
Dion. She's knowne a whore.
Phi. Thou liest !
Dion. My lord — 65
51 deserved none. Qi, deserved more.
54 in thankes, Q4-F. Qi, Qz, to thankes j Q3, in thlnkes.
55 Suffice it. Qi, sufficient. 58 sir. Qi omits.
59 ivill not. Qi omits.
6 1 have long. Q I, long have. 63 Dion. Qi, " Tra."
64 Phi. Thou. Q2 misprints Dt. Thou.
224 pilaster [ACT m.
Phi. Thou liest, Offers to draw, and is held.
And thou shalt feele it ! I had thought thy minde
Had beene of honour. Thus to rob a lady
Of her good name, is an infectious sinne,
Not to be pardon'd. Be it false as hell, 70
Twill never be redeem'd, if it be sowne
Amongst the people, fruitfull to increase
All evill they shall heare. Let me alone,
That I may cut off falshood whilst it springs !
Set hills on hills betwixt me and the man 75
That utters this, and I will scale them all,
And from the utmost top fall on his necke
Like thunder from a clowd.
Dion. This is most strange ;
Sure he does love her.
Phi. I doe love faire truth :
She is my mistrisse, and who injures her 80
Drawes vengeance from me. Sirs, let goe my
armes.
Thra. Nay, good my lord, be patient.
Cle. Sir, remember this is your honored friend,
That comes to doe his service, and will shew you
Why he utter'd this.
Phi. I aske you pardon, sir, 85
68 Thus. Q I, then. 72 fruitful/. Qi, faithfull.
74 off . . . springs. Qi, out falsehood where it growes.
75 the. Qi, that.
80 injures. Qi, injuries. 85 you. Qi, your.
SCENE I.] $tyh*ttt 22$
My zeale to truth made me unmannerly :
Should I have heard dishonour spoke of you,
Behind your backe untruely, I had beene
As much distemperd and enrag'd as now.
Dion. But this, my lord, is truth. 90
Phi. O, say not so, good sir, forbeare to say so;
Tis then truth that woman-kind is false ;
Urge it no more, it is impossible.
Why should you thinke the princesse light ?
Dion. Why, she was taken at it. 95
Phi. Tis false ! by heaven, tis false ! it can-
not be !
Can it ? Speake, gentlemen ; for Gods love,
speake !
1st possible ? can women all be damn'd ?
Dion. Why no, my lord.
Phi. Why then, it cannot be.
Dion. And she was taken with her boy.
Phi. What boy ? 100
Dion. A page, a boy that serves her.
86 made. Qi, makes. 88 backe. Qi, backs.
90—95 But this . . . at it. Verse-division of Qz—Y. W, D,
end lines with not so, truth, no more, thinke, at it.
92 Tis . . . false. Qi, tis then truth that women all are
false. Q4'34, thee truth. Q4'39~F, all womenkind.
93 lt "• QIJ ^8. 96 by. Q4-F, O.
97—98 for . . . possible. Qi omits.
97 Gods love. Q4-F, D, love of truth.
99 Dion. Why . . . lord. Qi omits this speech and gives the
next to "Tra." 100 Dion. Qi,"Cle."
226 ^ilatfter [ACT m
Phi. Oh, good gods !
A little boy ?
Dion. I, know you him, my lord ?
Phi. Hell and sinne know him! — Sir, you are
deceiv'd :
Tie reason it a little coldly with you ;
If she were lustfull, would she take a_ boy, I05
That knowes not yet desire ? she would have
one
Should meete her thoughts, and know the sinne
he acts,
Which is the great delight of wickednesse.
You are abusd, and so is she, and I.
Dion. How you, my lord ?
Phi. Why, all the world's abusdeno
In an unjust report.
Dion. Oh, noble sir, your vertues
Cannot looke into the subtle thoughts of woman.
In short, my lord, I tooke them ; I my selfe.
Phi. Now all the divells thou didst ! Flie from
my rage !
Would thou hadst tane divells ingendring plagues, 115
When thou didst take them ! Hide thee from
mine eyes ;
104 coldly. Qi, milder. 106 desire. Qi, desires.
107 know. Q4-F, knows. he. Qi, she.
no Dion. Qi, "Cle." na woman. Qi, women.
116 mine. Q3~ F, my.
SCENE I.] $)8i$ttt 22J
Would thou hadst taken thunder on thy breast,
When thou didst take them ; or been strucken
dumbe
For ever ; that this foule deed might have slept
In silence !
Thra. Have you knowne him so ill tem-
perd ? 120
Cle. Never before.
Phi. The winds that are let loose,
From the four several corners of the earth,
And spread themselves all over sea and land,
Kisse not a chaste one. What friend beares a
sword
To runne me through ? 125
Dion. Why, my lord, are you so mov'd at
this?
Phi. When any fall from vertue, I am dis-
tracted ;
I have an interest in't.
117 taken. Q2, tane. thunder on. Qi, daggers in.
118 didst. Q3, did. strucken. Qi, stuacke.
119 foule deed. Q i , fault.
120-121 Thra. . . . Cle. Qi transposes the speakers.
122, several. Qi omits.
123 spread themselves. Qi, spreads them selfe.
124 Kisse not a chaste one. Qi, Meetes not a fayre on.
125—8 To runne . . in't. D ends lines with are you, vertue, in't.
125 through. Qi, thorow } D, B, thorough.
126 Dion. Qi, "Tra."
1 27 fall. Q4'39-F, falls. distracted. Q4-F, D, distract.
128 an. Qi omits.
228
Dion. But, good my lord, recall your selfe,
and thinke
What's best to be done.
Phi. I thank youe j I will doe it. 130
Please you to leave me, I'le consider e£ it :
Tomorrow I will finde your lodging forth,
And give you answer.
Dion. All the gods direct you
The readiest way !
Thra. He was extreame impatient.
Cle. It was his vertue and his noble minde. 135
Exit Di [0/7] Cle \remont and~\ Thra \_siline~\ .
Phi. I had forgot to aske him where he took
them ;
Fie follow him. O that I had a sea
Within my breast, to quench the fire I feele !
More circumstances will but fan this fire :
It more afflicts me now, to know by whom 140
This deed is done, then simply that tis done ;
129-130 But . . . done. Verse-division of W, D, B. Qq, F,
end 1. 129 with your selfe.
130 doe it. Qi, do't.
132 I will. Qi,Ile. lodging. Q I, lodgings, forth. Q I omits.
133-134 Dion. All . . . iv ay. Qi has " Omnes " for Dion,
and adds "Exit Three Gent." Q4'39~F print:
The readiest way.
Di. All the gods direct you.
134-135 Thra. . . . minde. Qi omits.
136 him. Qi, urn. them.' Qi, her.
139 ivill but fan. Qi, would but flame.
141 This. Qi, the. tis. Qi, it is.
SCENE i.] |Bt)ila$ter 229
And he that tells me this, is honourable,
As farre from lies as she is farre from truth.
O that, like beasts, we could not grieve our selves
With that we see not ! Bulls and rams will fight 145
To keepe their females, standing in their sight ;
But take um from them, and you take at once
Their spleenes away ; and they will fall againe
Unto their pastures, growing fresh and fat,
And taste the waters of the springs as sweete 150
As twas before ; finding no start in sleepe.
But miserable man —
Enter Bellario
See, see, you gods !
He walkes still ; and the face you let him weare
When he was innocent is still the same,
Not blasted. Is this justice ? Doe you meane 155
To entrap mortality, that you allow
Treason so smooth a brow ? I cannot now
Thinke he is guilty.
Bellario. Health to you, my lord !
The princesse doth commend her love, her life,
And this, unto you. [He gives him a letter, .]
Phi. Oh, Bellario, 160
147 um. Qi, them. 150 springs. £53, spring.
Enter Bellario. Qz-F print after gods. Qi, "Enter boy"
after man.
155 blasted. Qi, blush.
He gives . . . letter. Only Qi.
230 Blaster [ACT m.
Now I perceive she loves me ! she does shew it
In loving thee, my boy ; she has made thee brave.
Bell. My lord, she has attir'd me past my wish,
Past my desert ; more fit for her attendant,
Though far unfit for me who doe attend. 165
Phi. Thou art growne courtly, boy. — O, let
all women
That love blacke deeds learne to dissemble here,
Here, by this paper ! She does write to me
As if her heart were mines of adamant
To all the world besides ; but unto me, 170
A maiden snow that melted with my lookes.
Tell me, my boy, how doth the princesse use
thee ?
For I shall guesse her love to me by that.
Bell. Scarce like her servant, but as if I were
Something allyed to her, or had preserved *75
Her life three times by my fidelity ;
As mothers fond doe use there onely sonnes,
As Pde use one that's left unto my trust,
For whom my life should pay if he met harme,
So she does use me.
Phi. Why, this is wondrous well : 1 80
But what kinde language does she feede thee with ?
163 my. Qi omits. 165 Though. Qi, But. 'who. Qi, that.
166 boy. Qi, my boy. 168 by. Qi, with.
169 mines. Qi, twines. iya doth. Qi, dos.
173 For . . . that. Qi omits. 179 met. Qi, meete.
1 80 this is. Qi, tis.
SCENE I.] $\)l\Z8ttt 231
Bell. Why, she does tell me, she will trust
my youth
With all her loving secrets, and does call me
Her pretty servant ; bids me weepe no more
For leaving you ; sheele see my services 185
Regarded ; and such words of that soft strain,
That I am neerer weeping when she ends
Than ere she spake.
Phi. This is much better still.
Bell. Are you not ill, my lord ?
Phi. 111? No, Bellario.
Bell. Me thinkes your words 19°
Fall not from off your tongue so evenly,
Nor is there in your lookes that quietnesse
That I was wont to see.
Phi. Thou art deceivd, boy :
And she strokes thy head ?
Bell. Yes.
Phi. And she does clap thy cheekes ?
Bell. She does, my lord. 195
Phi. And she does kisse thee, boy ? ha ?
Bell. How, my lord ?
183 loving secrets. Qi, maiden store.
185 services. Qi, service. 1 86 Regarded. Qi, rewarded.
1 88 spake. Qi, speakes.
189 not ill. Qi, not well. Q6, F, omit not.
191 Fall . . . evenly. Qi,fall out from your tongue, so unevenly.
192 quietnesse. Qi, quicknesse.
193 deceived, Qi. Q2.-F, deceiv'd.
232 pilaster ACT m.
Phi. She kisses thee ?
Bell. Never, my lord, by heaven !
Phi. That's strange : I know she does.
Bell. No, by my life !
Phi. Why then she does not love me. Come,
she does :
I bad her doe it. I charg'd her by all charmes 200
Of love betweene us, by the hope of peace
We should enjoy, to yeeld thee all delights
Naked as to her bed : I tooke her oath
Thou shouldst enjoy her. Tell me, gentle boy,
Is she not parrallesse ? Is not her breath 205
Sweete as Arabian winds when fruits are ripe?
Are not her breasts two liquid ivory balls ?
Is she not all a lasting mine of joy ?
Bell. I, now I see why my disturbed thoughts
Were so perplext. When first I went to her, 210
My heart held augury. You are abusde,
Some villaine has abusde you : I doe see
Whereto you tend. Fall rocks upon his head
That put this to you ! tis some subtile traine
To bring that noble frame of yours to nought. 215
197 Never . . . hea-ven. Q4~F, D, Not so, my lord.
198 That's strange. Q4~F, D, Come, come.
200 bad. Qi, bid. doe it. Qi, do't.
202 delights. Qi, delight. 203 bed. Qi, Lord.
205 parrallesse. Qi, paradise; Q6, F, paralleless.
209 /. Qi, Yes. disturbed. Qi, discurled.
211 augury. Qi, auguries.
213 Whereto. Qi, where. 215 frame. Qi, friend.
SCENE i.] p^ila0ter 233
Phi. Thou thinkst I will be angry with thee.
Come,
Thou shalt know all my drift ; I hate her more
Than I love happinesse, and placed thee there
To prye with narrow eyes into her deeds.
Hast thou discovered ? Is she falne to lust, 220
As I would wish her ? Speake some comfort to
me.
Bell. My lord, you did mistake the boy you
sent :
Had she the lust of sparrowes, or of goates ;
Had she a sinne that way, hid from the world,
Beyond the name of lust, I would not aide 225
Her base desires : but what I came to know
As servant to her, I would not reveale,
To make my life last ages.
Phi. Oh, my heart !
This is a salve worse then the maine disease. —
Tell me thy thoughts ; for I will know the least 230
That dwells within thee, or will rip thy heart
To know it ; I will see thy thoughts as plaine
As I doe now thy face.
Bell. Why, so you doe.
She is (for ought I know), by all the gods,
As chaste as ice ; but were she foule as hell, 235
219 narrow. Qi, sparrowes. 223 or. Qi, and.
224 way, Aid. Qi, weighed. 226 came. Qi, come.
229 disease. Qi, deceit. 233 now. F, know.
234 Blaster [ACT m.
And I did know it thus, the breath of kings,
The points of swords, tortures, nor buls of
brasse,
Should draw it from me.
Phi. Then it is no time
To dally with thee ; I will take thy life,
For I doe hate thee : I could curse thee now. 240
Bell. If you doe hate, you could not curse me
worse ;
The gods have not a punishment in store
Greater for me then is your hate.
Phi. Fie, fie,
So young and so dissembling ! tell me when
And where thou didst enjoy her, or let plagues 245
Fall upon me, if I destroy thee not !
[//<? frames bis sword.~^
Bell. By heaven, I never did : and when I lie
To save my life, may I live long and loath'd !
Hew me asunder, and whilst I can thinke
238-240 Should . . . now. Verse-division of Th, W, D, B.
Qi ends lines with from me, life, now ,• Qi— Q4, from me, 'with
thee, hate thee, now ,• Q5, Q6, with thee, now ,• ¥,from me, with
thee, now.
238 draw. Qi, wrack. it is, Qi. Q^-F, tis.
241 hate. Qi, hate me.
243 Greater. Qi omits. for. Qi, to.
243-246 Fie . . . thee not. Verse-division of Th, W, D, B.
Qi ends lines with where, upon me, not $ Q2— F, dissembling, her,
not.
246 upon, Qi, D. Qa-F, on. He . . . sword, only Qi.
247 By heaven. Q4-F, Heaven knows.
i.] pilaster 235
Fie love those pieces you have cut away 250
Better than those that grow, and kisse those
limbes
Because you made um so.
Phi. Fearst thou not death ?
Can boyes contemne that ?
Bell. Oh, what boy is he
Can be content to live to be a man,
That sees the best of men thus passionate, 255
Thus without reason ?
Phi. Oh, but thou doest not know
What tis to dye.
Bell. Yes, I doe know, my lord :
Tis lesse then to be borne ; a lasting sleepe,
A quiet resting from all jealousie,
A thing we all persue : I know, besides, *6o
It is but giving over of a game
That must be lost.
Phi. But there are paines, false boy,
For perjur'd soules ; thinke but on those, and
then
Thy heart will melt, and thou wilt utter all.
251 those limbs. Q6, F, these limbs.
252 Fearst. Q4'39~F, Fearest. 254 Can. Qi, could.
256 but. Qi omits. Qq, F, end line with dye. doest, only
Q2. Qq, F, dost.
261 over of a game. Qi, ore agame.
263 those. Q4-F, D, these.
264 and thou. Qi, and then thou.
236 pl)ila0ter [ACT m.
Bell. May they fall all upon me whilst I live, 265
If I be perjur'd, or have ever thought
Of that you charge me with ! If I be false,
Send me to suffer in those punishments
You speak of: kill me !
[Phi.] Oh, what should I doe ?
Why, who can but beleeve him ? He does sweare 270
So earnestly, that if it were not true,
The gods would not endure him. Rise, Bellario :
Thy protestations are so deepe, and thou
Doest looke so truely when thou utterst them,
That, though I know um false as were my hopes, 275
I cannot urge thee further. But thou wert
Too blame to injure me, for I must love
/Thy honest lookes, and take no revenge upon
\ Thy tender youth. A love from me to thee
lls firme, what e're thou doest : it troubles me 280
That I have call'd the blood out of thy cheekes,
That did so well become thee. But, good boy,
Let me not see thee more ; something is done
That will distract me, that will make me mad,
If I behold thee. If thou tenderst me, 285
Let me not see thee.
269 Phi. Q^ omits by mistake.
274 Doest. Qi, Q5, Q6, F, dost. utterst, Q2, Q6, uttrest.
Other Qq, F, utterest.
275 know. F, known. 279 tender youth. Q I , honest lookes.
280 doest, only Q2. Other Qq, F, dost.
281 the blood. Q I, thy blood, 282 thee. B(qy.), them.
285 tenderst. Qi, tenderest.
SCENE II.] $ty\Z$ttt 237
Bell. I will flie as farre
As there is morning, ere I give distaste
To that most honor'd mind. But through these
teares
Shed at my hopelesse parting, I can see
A* world of treason practisde upon you, 290
And her, and me. Farewel for ever more !
If you shall heare that sorrow strucke me dead,
And after finde me loyall, let there be
A teare shed from you in my memory,
And I shall rest at peace. Exit Bell\ario\.
Phi. Blessing be with thee,295
What ever thou deservest ! — Oh, where shall I
Qoe bathe this body ? Nature too unkinde,
I That made no medicine for a troubled minde !
Ex\it] Pbi[laster\.
[SCENE II.
Arethusa's Apartment in the Palace.~\
Enter Arethusa.
Aretbusa. I marvaile my boy comes not backe
againe ;
288 mind. Qi, frame.
289 hopelesse. Qi, haplesse. 292 sorroiv. Qi, sorrowes.
296 ever. Qi, ere. deservest, Qi-Q3- QSaj deserv'd.
Q4, Q5b, Q6, F, deserv'st.
297 bathe. Q4-F, bath. this. Q6, F, thy.
298 made. Qi, mad'st. for. Qi, to.
Enter Arethusa. Qi, Princesse, and u Prin " for Are. through-
out the scene. I againe. Qi omits.
238 J&liilastrr [ACT m.
But that I know my love will question him
Over and over, how I slept, wak'd, talk'd ;
How I remembred him when his deare name
Was last spoke, and how, when I sigh'd, wept,
sung, 5
And ten thousand such ; I should be angr^ at
his stay.
Enter King.
King. What, at your meditations ? Who at-
tends you ?
Are. None but my single selfe ; I neede no
guard;
I doe no wrong, nor feare none.
King. Tell me, have you not a boy ?
Are. Yes sir. 10
King. What kinde of boy ?
Are. A page, a wayting boy.
King. A handsome boy ?
Are. I thinke he be not ugly :
Well quallified, and dutifull, I know him ;
I tooke him not for beauty.
King. He speakes, and sings and playes ?
Are. Yes sir. 15
3 ivaVd, talk'd. Qi, make talke.
4 remembred. Qi, remember.
5 spoke . . . sung. Qi, spoken, And how spoke when I sight
song.
7 at. Qi, in; Q5a, of; Q6, F, are.
12 ugly. Qi, B, ugly, sir.
] |&t)ila$ter 239
King. About eighteene ?
Are. I never ask'd his age.
King. Is he full of service ?
Are. By your pardon, why doe you aske ?
King. Put him away.
Are. Sir ?
King. Put him away I say.
H'as done you that good service shames me to
speake of.
Are. Good sir, let me understand you.
King. If you feare me,
Shew it in duty ; put away that boy.
Are. Let me have reason for it, sir, and then
Your will is my command.
King. Doe not you blush to aske it ? Cast
him off,
Or I shall doe the same to you. Y'are one
Shame with me, and so neere unto my selfe,
That, by my life, I dare not tell my selfe,
What you, my selfe, have done.
Are. What have I done, my lord ?
King. Tis a new language, that all love to
learn :
19 I say, only Qi, Qa. 23 sir. Qi omits.
24 my. Qi,a.
26 the same. Qi, that shame. Y* are, Qi, ye are.
27 unto. Qi omits.
28 my life. Qi, the gods. I dare. Qi, I'd dare.
30 have /, Qi, Q3-F. Q2, I have. my lord. Qi omits.
240 Blaster [ACT m.
The common people speake it well already ;
They need no grammer. Understand me well,
There be foule whispers stirring. Cast him off,
And suddenly ; doe it ! Farewell. Exit King. 35
Are. Where may a maiden live securely free,
Keeping her honour faire ? Not with the living ;
They feede upon opinions, errours, dreames,
And make um truths ; they draw a nourishment
Out of defamings, grow upon disgraces, 40
And when they see a vertue fortefied
Strongly above the battry of their tongues,
Oh, how they cast to sinke it ! and defeated,
(Soule sicke with poison) strike the monuments
Where noble names lie sleeping, till they sweat, 45
And the cold marble melt.
Enter Pbilaster.
Philaster. Peace to your fairest thoughts, deer-
est mistresse.
Are. Oh, my deerest servant, I have a warre
within me.
Phi. He must be more then man that makes
these christals
Run into rivers. Sweetest faire, the cause ? 50
And as I am your slave, tied to your goodnesse,
36 maiden. Qi, maid. 37 faire. Q4-F, safe.
39 truths. Qi, truth. 43 cast. Qi, mind.
44 Soule. Qi, foule. strike the monuments. Qi, stricke
the mountaines.
45 lie. Qi, be. 47 deerest. Th, B, my dearest.
SCENE II.] ^tiatftfl: 241
Your creature, made againe from what I was,
And newly spirited, Fie right your honor.
Are. Oh, my best love, that boy !
Phi. What boy ?
Are. The pretty boy you gave me.
Phi. What of him ? 55
Are. Must be no more mine.
Phi Why ?
Are. They are jealous of him.
Phi. Jealous, who ?
Are. The King.
Phi. \aside\ . Oh, my misfortune !
Then tis no idle jealousie. — Let him goe.
Are. Oh, cruel !
Are you hard hearted too ? who shall now tell
you, 6o
How much I lovd you ? who shal sweare it to
you,
And weepe the teares I send ? Who shall now
bring you
Letters, rings, bracelets ? loose his health in
service ?
53 I'k' Q4'39~Q*>, He. honor. Q6, F, honours.
57 my misfortune, Qi, B. Q3, my my fortune j Q4~ F, D, my
fortune.
58 him. Q5a, me.
59-69 Oh, cruel . . . Philaster. Verse-division as in Th, W,
D, B. Qq, F, end lines with too, you, send, bracelets, nights, sing,
soule, mourne, ill, eye-lids, Philaster.
62 you. Q6, your.
242 {^flatter [ACT m.
Wake tedious nights in stories of your praise ?
Who shall [now] sing your crying elegies ? 65
And strike a sad soule into senseless pictures,
And make them mourne ? Who shall take up
his lute,
And touch it, till he crowne a silent sleepe
Upon my eye-lids, making me dreame, and cry,
" Oh my deere, deare Philaster " ?
Phi. [aside] . Oh my heart ! 70
Would he had broken thee, that made thee
know
This lady was not loyall ! — Mistrisse,
Forget the boy, Fie get thee a farre better.
Are. Oh never, never such a boy againe
As my Bellario !
Phi. Tis but your fond affection. 75
Are. With thee, my boy, farewel for ever
All secrecy in servants ! Farewel faith,
And all desire to doe well for it selfe !
Let all that shall succeed thee, for thy wrongs,
Sell and betray chaste love. 80
Phi. And all this passion for a boy ?
64 Wake, Qi, make. 65 noiu, Qi, D, B.
67 mourne. Qi, warme. 69 eye-lids. Q4-F, eye-lid.
69 making. Qi, make.
72-73 This lady . . . better. Dyce's division. Q2— F end
1. 72 with forget. Qi ends 1. 72 with loyally and 1. 73 with thee.
73 thee. Qi, you. 77 secrecy. Qi, service.
78 desire . . . it selfe. Qi, desires to doe well, for thy sake.
SCENE II.] ^Si^ttt 243
Are. He was your boy, and you put him to
me,
And the losse of such must have a mourning for.
Phi. O thou forgetful] woman !
Are. How, my lord ?
Phi. False Arethusa ! 85
Hast thou a medicine to restore my wits,
When I have lost um ? If not, leave to talke
And doe thus.
Are. Doe what, sir ? would you sleepe ?
Phi. For ever, Arethusa. Oh you gods,
Give me a worthy patience ! Have I stood 90
Naked, alone, the shocke of many fortunes ?
Have I scene mischiefes numberlesse and
mighty
Growe like a sea upon me ? Have I taken
Danger as stern as death into my bosome,
And laught upon it, made it but a mirth, 95
And flung it by ? Do I live now like him,
Under this tyrant King, that languishing
Hears his sad bell and sees his mourners ? Doe I
Beare all this bravely, and must sinke at length
82 to. Qi, unto.
89 Phi. Qi omits by mistake. you gods. Q I, ye gods, ye
gods.
90 worthy. Qi, wealthy. 91 alone. Qi, Above.
92 mischiefes. Qi, mischiefe. 93 like. F, live.
94 stern. Qi, deepe. 96 flung. Qi, flowing.
98 Hears. Qi, heare. 99 must. Qi omits.
244 Blaster [ACT m.
Under a. womans falshood ? Oh that boy, 100
That cursed boy ? None but a villaine boy
To ease your lust ?
Are. Nay, then I am betrayed.
I feele the plot cast for my overthrow.
Oh, I am wretched !
Phi. Now you may take that little right I have 105
To this poor kingdome : give it to your joy,
For I have no joy in it. Some farre place,
Where never woman kinde durst set her foote
For bursting with her poisons, must I seeke,
And live to curse you : "o
There dig a cave, and preach to birds and beasts
What woman is, and helpe to save them from
you;
How heaven is in your eyes, but in your hearts
More hell then hell has ; how your tongues,
like scorpions,
Both heale and poyson ; how your thoughts are
woven "5
With thousand changes in one subtle webbe,
And worne so by you ; how that foolish man,
That reades the story of a womans face,
109 poisons. Qi, poyson.
in There. Qi, and there. birds and beasts. Qi, beasts
and birds.
112 'woman is. Qi, women are. and helpe . . .you. Qi
omits.
117 50. Qi omits. man. Qi, men.
118 reades. Qi, reade.
SCENE II.] y&tyl%8ttt 245
And dies beleeving it, is lost for ever ;
How all the good you have is but a shaddow, 120
I'th morning with you, and at night behind you,
Past and forgotten j how your vowes are frosts,
Fast for a night, and with the next sun gone ;
How you are, being taken all together,
A meere confusion, and so dead a chaos, 125
That love cannot distinguish. These sad texts,
Till my last houre, I am bound to utter of you.
So farewell all my woe, all my delight !
Exit Pbi[laster\.
Are. Be mercifull, ye gods, and strike me dead !
What way have I deserv'd this ? Make my
breast 130
Transparant as pure christal, that the world,
Jealous of me, may see the foulest thought
My heart holds. Where shall a woman turne
her eyes,
To finde out constancy ?
Enter £ett[ario.']
Save me, how blacke
And guiltily, me thinkes that boy lookes now ! 135
Oh, thoujjissembler, that before thou spak'st
1 22 frosts. Q I, frost. 129 ye. Qi, you ; Q5a omits.
131 as pure c Arista!. Ql omits j Q3, as a pure christal.
133 a 'woman turne her. Qi, women turne their.
134 Enter Bellario, placed as in Qi, which has, " Enter boy."
— F place entry at end of the line.
135 guiltily. Qi, vile; Q3-F, guilty.
136 spak'st. Qi,spokst; Q6, speak'st.
246 gjitoter [ACT in.
Wert in thy cradle false ! sent to make lies,
And betray innocents ! thy lord and thou
May glory in the ashes of a maid
Foold by her passion ; but the conquest is 140
Nothing so great as wicked. Flie away !
Let my command force thee to that which
shame
Would do without it. If thou understoodst
The loathed office thou hast undergone,
Why, thou wouldst hide thee under heapes of hills, H5
Least men should dig and finde thee.
Bellario. Oh, what god,.
Angry with men, hath sent this strange disease
Into the noblest minds ? Madam, this griefe
You adde unto me is no more than drops
To seas, for which they are not scene to swell : 150
My Lord hath strucke his anger through my
heart,
And let out all the hope of future joyes.
You need not bid me flye ; I came to part,
To take my latest leave. Farewell for ever !
I durst not runne away in honesty 155
From such a lady, like a boy that stole,
Or made some grievous fault. The power of gods
138 betray innocents. Qi, to betray innocence.
139 May. Qi, Maist. 144 undergone. Qi, undertooke.
146 men. Qi, we. 147 men. Qi, me.
151 hath. Qi, has j F, had.
153 You. Qi, Ye. 157 grievous. Qi, greater.
SCENE II.] ^tylMttt 247
Assist you in your sufferings ! Hasty time
Reveale the truth to your abused lord
And mine, that he may know your worth ;
whilst I 160
Goe seeke out some forgotten place to dye !
Exit Bell\ario\.
Are. Peace guide thee ! Thou hast over-
throwne me once ;
Yet if I had another Troy to lose,
Thou, or another villaine with thy lookes,
Might talke me out of it, and send me naked, 165
My haire disheveld, through the fiery streetes.
Enter a Lady.
Lady. Madam, the King would hunt, and
calls for you
With earnestnesse.
Are. I am in tune to hunt !
Diana, if thou canst rage with a maid
As with a man, let me discover thee 170
Bathing, and turne me to a fearefull hynde,
That I may dye persued by cruell hounds,
And have my story written in my wounds.
Exeunt.
158 sufferings. Qi, suffering.
162 Thou hast, Qi. Q2-F, th'ast.
163 Tet . . . Troy. Qi, but ... time.
165 talke. Qi, take.
ACTUS 4. SCCENA I.
[Before the Palace.]
Enter King, Pbaramond, Are thus a, Galatea, Megra,
Dion, Cleremont, Tbrasilin, and Attendants.
King. What, are the hounds before, and all
the woodmen ?
Our horses ready, and our bowes bent ?
Dion. All, sir.
King [to Pharamond~\. Y'are clowdy, sir;
come, we have forgotten
Your veniall trespasse ; let not that sit heavy
Upon your spirit ; heres none dare utter it. 5
Dion. He lookes like an old surfeited stallion
after his leaping, dull as a dormouse : see how
he sinks ; the wench has shot him betweene
winde and water, and I hope sprung a leake.
ThrasUine. He needes no teaching, he strikes 10
sure enough : his greatest fault is, he hunts too
much in the purlues ; would hee wod leave off
poaching !
Dion. And for his home, has left it at the
and Attendants. Qi, and two Wood-men.
3 to Pharamond, D, B. T^are. Qi, you are.
4 trespasse. Qi, trespasses.
5 heres. Q4-F omit. dare. Qi, dares.
6 Dion. Qi, "Cle." 9 leake. Q I, lake.
SCENE I.] y&\)i\Z8ttt 249
lodge where he lay late. Oh, hee's a pretious 15
lyme-hound ! turne him loose upon the pursuit
of a lady, and if he lose her, hang him up i'th
slip. When my fox-bitch Bewty growes proud,
Tie borrow him.
King. Is your boy turn'd away ? 20
Aretbusa. You did command sir, and I obeyd
you.
King. Tis well done. Harke ye furder.
Cleremont. Is't possible this fellow should re-
pent ? Mee thinkes that were not noble in him ; 25
and yet he lookes like a mortefied member, as
if hee had a sicke mans salve in's mouth. If
a worse man had done this fault now, some
physicall justice or other would presently (with-
out the helpe of an almanacke) have opened the 3°
abstructions of his liver, and let him blood with
a dogge-whippe.
Dion. See, see, how modestly yon lady lookes,
as if she came from churching with her neigh-
bours ! Why, what a divell can a man see in her 35
face, but that shee's honest ?
15 pretious. Qi, pernitious.
1 6 loose. Qi omits. pursuit. Qi-Q3, pursue.
17 a. Qi, any.
20—23 Is . . . furder. D prints as two verse-lines, ending the
first with sir. 2 1 obeyd. F, obey.
24 Cleremont. Qi, "Leon," and the next speech to "Tra."
33 y°n- Q5b-F> vour' 34 neighbours. Q3~F, neighbour.
35 a man. Qi, you.
250 laster [ACT iv
Tbra. Faith, no great matter to speake of; a
foolish twinckling with the eye, that spoiles her
coate ; but hee must be a cunning harald that
findes it. 40
Dion. See how they muster one another ! O
there's a rancke regiment, where the divell car-
ries the colours, and his dam drum-major ! now
the world and the flesh come behinde with the
carriage. 45
Cle. Sure this lady has a good turne done her
against her will ; before she was common talke,
now none dare say cantharides can stirre her.
Her face lookes like a warrant, willing and com-
manding all tongues, as they will answer it, to 50
bee tied up and bolted when this lady meanes
to let her selfe loose. As I live, shee has got her
a goodly protection, and a gracious ; and may
use her body discreetely, for her health sake,
once a weeke, excepting Lent and Dog-dayes. 55
Oh, if they were to bee got for money, what a
37 Thra. Qi, "Cle."j Q4-F, "Pha." Faith. Q4-F,
Troth.
41 Dion. Qi, "Tra." and the following speech to "Leon."
one. Qi, on.
42 regiment. Qi, regient. 43 dam. Qi, damn'd.
44 the ivorld and the flesh. Qi, the flesh and the world.
46 done her. Qi omits her. 48 dare. Qi, dares.
52 her. Qi omits.
54 health. Q4*39-F, D, B, health's.
55 excepting. Qi, except.
ii]. tiilaster 251
large sum would come out of the city for these
licences !
King. To horse, to horse ! we loose the
morning, gentlemen. Exeunt. 60
[SCENE II.
A Forest.]
Enter two Woodmen.
ist Woodman. What, have you lodged the
deere ?
2d Woodman. Yes, they are ready for the bow.
ist Wood. Who shootes ?
2nd Wood. The princesse. 5
ist Wood. No shee'l hunt.
2nd Wood. Shee'l take a stand, I say.
ist Wood. Who else ?
2nd Wood. Why, the young stranger prince.
1st Wood. Hee shall shoote in a stone bow 10
for me. I never lov'd his beyond-sea-ship since
hee forsooke the say, for paying ten shillings.
He was there at the fall of a deere, and would
needes (out of his mightinesse) give ten groates
for the dowcets ; marry, his steward would have 15
57 targe, Qi, Qz. Q3-F, D, B, great.
Exeunt. Qi, Exit King and Lords, Manet Wood-men.
2 deere. Qi, Deere below. 9 stranger. Qi, strange.
15 dowcets. Qi, docetsj Q4*39-F, dowcers.
^"j Q1- GZ~F> the. would have. Q5~F, would have had.
252 Blaster [ACTIV.
the velvet head into the bargaine, to turfe his
hat withall : I thinke he should love venery, he
is an old Sir Tristram ; for if you be remem-
bred, he forsooke the stagge once to strike a
raskall miching in a medow, and her he kild in 20
the eye. Who shootes else ?
2nd Wood. The lady Galatea.
ist Wood. That'£_a_gp^_jyench, and shee
would not chide us for tumbling of her women
in the brakes. She's liberall, and, by the gods, 25
they say she's honest, and whether that be a
fault [or no,] I have nothing to doe. There's
all?
2nd Wood. No, one more, Megra.
ist Wood. That's a firker, I faith, boy. There's 30
'a wench will ride her haunches as hard after
a kennell of hounds as a hunting saddle; and
when she comes home, get um clapt, and all is
well againe. I have knowne her lose her selfe
three times in one afternoone (if the woods have 35
beene answerable), and it has been worke enough
for one man to finde her, and he has sweat for
1 8 is an. Qi, and. you, Qi, ye. 19 the. Qi, a.
20 miching) Th. Qq, F, milking, which Boas retains. B (qy. ),
walking. 23 and. Qi, an.
25 the gods. Q4-F, D, my bow. she's. Qi omits.
27 or no, only Qi. 34. have. Qi, Q6, F, had.
36 it. Qi omits.
37 &*• Q i omits. for it. Qi, for't.
SCENE II.] $tylSi$ttt 253
it. She rides well, and she payes well. Harke,
let's goe. Exeunt.
Enter Pbilaster.
Philaster. Oh, that I had beene nourished in
these woods 40
With milke of goates and akrons, and not
knowne
The right of crownes, nor the dissembling traines
Of womens lookes ; but dig'd my selfe a cave,
Where I, my fire, my cattell, and my bed
Might have been shut together in one shed ; 45
And then had taken me some moujitajne^girle,
Beaten with winds, chaste as the hardned rocks
Whereon she dwelt, that might have strewed my
bed
With leaves, and reedes, and with the skins of
beasts,
Our neighbours, and have borne at her big
breasts 5°
My large course issue. This had beene a life
Free from vexation.
Enter Bellario.
Eellario. Oh wicked men !
An innocent may walke safe among beasts ;
38-39 Harke , let's goe. Qi, Hark else.
40 these. Qi, the. 41 akrons. Qi, acrons.
43 ivomens lookes. Qi, cruell love.
47 hardned rocks. Qi, rocke. 48 dwelt, Qi. Q^-F,
dwells. 50 borne at her. Qi, borne out her.
53 innocent. F, innocent man.
254 laster [ACT iv.
Nothing assaults me here. See, my grieved lord
Sits as his soule were searching out a way 55
To leave his body ! — Pardon me that must
Breake thy last commandement ; for I must
speake :
You that are griev'd can pitty ; heare, my lord !
Phi. Is there a creature yet so miserable,
That I can pity ?
Bell. Oh, my noble lord, 60
View my strange fortune, and bestow on me,
According to your bounty (if my service
Can merrit nothing), so much as may serve
To keepe that little piece I hold of life
From cold and hunger.
Phi. Is it thou ? be gone ! 65
Go sell those misbeseeming cloathes thou wear-
est,
And feed thy selfe with them.
Bell. Alas, my lord, I can get nothing for
them :
The silly countrey people thinke tis treason
To touch such gay things.
Phi. Now, by the gods, this is 70
Unkindly done, to vex me with thy sight ;
54 See. Qi, I see. 56 must. Qi omits.
6 1 fortune. Qi, fortunes.
65-70 Phi. hit . . . gay things. Qi omits.
66 ivearest. Q4'39~F, wear' st.
70 by the gods. Q4-F, D, my life.
SCENE II.] y&ty\a#ttK 255
Th'art falne againe to thy dissembling trade.
How shouldst thou thinke to cozen me againe ?
Remaines there yet a plague untride for me ?
Even so thou wepst, and lookst,and spokst, when
first 75
I tooke thee up : curse on the time ! If thy
Commanding teares can work on any other,
Use thy art ; Fie not betray it. Which way
Wilt thou take, that I may shun thee ?
For thine eyes are poison to mine ; and I 80
Am loth to grow in rage. This way, or that
way ?
Bell. Any will serve, but I will chuse to have
That path in chase that leades unto my grave.
Exit Pbi\laster and] Bell\ario~\ severally.
Enter Dion and the Woodmen.
Dion. This is the strangest suddaine chance !
— You woodman !
1st Woodman. My Lord Dion ? 85
Dion. Saw you a lady come this way on a
sable horse studded with starres of white ?
72, Thwart. Qi, thou art.
75 lookst, and. Q4~F omit. first I. Qi, I first.
76-81 / tooke . . . that ivay. Verse-division of Qi-F. B
transfers -which 'way from 1. 78 to 1. 79 and follows Th, in changing
to of 1. 80 to "unto." W, D, make seven lines, ending uft
teares, art, take, poison, rage, 'way. 76 up. Qi omits.
Enter, etc. Qi, Enter Leon, Cle. and Wood-men.
84 chance. Q6, F, change. 85 ist Woodman. Ql, "Cle."
87 studded. Qi, starre-dyed ; Q6, F, stubbed.
256 J9t)iia0ter [ACT iv.
2nd Woodman, Was she not young and tall ?
Dion. Yes. Rode she to the wood, or to the
plaine ?
2nd Wood. Faith, my lord, we saw none. 9°
Exit Woodmen.
Dion. Poxe of your questions then ! —
Enter Cleremont.
What, is she found ?
Cleremont. Nor will be, I thinke.
Dion. Let him seeke his daughter himselfe :
shee cannot stray about a little necessary naturall
businesse, but the whole court must be in armes ; 95
when she has done, we shall have peace.
Cle. There's already a thousand fatherlesse
tales amongst us ; some say her horse ran away
with her ; some, a wolfe persued her ; others,
t'was a plot to kill her, and that arm'd men 100
were scene in the wood ; but questionlesse, she
rode away willingly.
Enter King, and Tbrasiline.
King. Where is she ?
Cle. Sir, I cannot tell.
King. How' s that ?
Answer me so againe.
Cle. Sir, shall I lie ?
88 2nd Woodman. Ql, " I Wood." 91 your. Qz, you.
Enter Cleremont. Ql omits. 98 ran. Qi, Q5b-F, run.
100 fioas. Q3, it was. arm'd. Qi, armed.
103 Hollo's. Q3-F, How is. 104 Cle. Qi, "Leon."
SCENE II.]
King. Yes, lie and damne, rather then tell me
that. i°5
I say againe, where is she ? Mutter not ! —
Sir, speake you, where is she ?
Dion. Sir, I doe not know.
King. Speake that againe so boldly, and, by
heaven,
It is thy last. — You fellowes, answer me,
Where is she ? Marke me all, I am your king, no
I wish to see my daughter ; shew her me ;
I doe command you all, as you are subjects,
To shew her me. What ! am I not your king ?
If I, then am I not to be obeyed ?
Dion. Yes, if you command things possible
and honest. "5
King. Things possible and honest ! Heare
me, thou, —
Thou traytor, that dar'st confine thy king to
things
Possible and honest ; shew her me,
Or let me perish, if I cover not
All Cicilie with blood.
Dion. Faith, I cannot, 120
Unlesse you tell me where she is.
114 then. Qi, why then.
116-117 Heare . . . traytor. Qi, heare me then, thou traytor.
117-118 things . . . honest. Qi, possible and honest, things.
lao Faith. Q4-F, D, Ii
ia I you. Qi, you'le.
258 Blaster
King. You have betrayed me; you have let
me loose
The Jewell of my life : goe, bring her me,
And set her here before me : tis the King
Will have it so, whose breath can still the
winds,
Unclowd the sun, charme downe the swelling
sea,
And stop the flouds of heaven. Speake, can it
not?
Dion. No.
King. No ? Cannot the breath of kings
doe this ?
Dion. No ; nor smell sweete it selfe, if once
the lungs
Be but corrupted.
King. Is it so? Take heed ! 130
Dion. Sir, take you heed how you dare the
powers
That must be just.
King. Alas, what are we kings ?
Why doe you gods place us above the rest,
To be serv'd, flatter'd, and ador'd, till we
Beleeve we hold within our hands your thunder ? *35
122 you have, Qi. Q2-F, y'have.
I»4 here. Q6, F, omit. l?,8 kings. Qi, a King.
129 Dion. Qi, "Cle." No; nor. Qi, no more.
130 Is it so. Qi omits. Take. Qi, Take you.
131 Sir. Ql omits. 134 till. Qi, still.
SCENE II.] H&^ttt 259
And when we come to try the power we have,
here's not a leaf shakes at our threatnings.
have sind 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. 140
Dion. He articles with the gods ; would
some body would draw bonds for the perform-
ance of covenants betwixt them !
Enter Pha\_ramond~\, Galatea, and Megra.
King. What, is she found ?
Pharamond. No, we have tane her horse,
He gallopt empty by. There's some treason : 145
You, Galatea, rode with her into the wood ;
Why left you her ?
Galatea. She did command me.
King. Command ! you should not.
Gal. T' would ill become my fortunes and
my birth
To disobey the daughter of my king. 150
King. Y'are all cunning to obey us for our hurt,^
But I will have her.
Pba. If I have her not,
By this hand, there shall be no more Cicilie.
136 <wt have. Qi, we thinke we have.
138 stand. Qi, I stand.
139 thus. Qi, these. 143 covenants. Q I, covenant.
146 with her into the wood. Qi, into the Wood with her.
148 King. Qi, "Pha." 151 Y* are. Ql, O y'are. hurt.
Qi, hurts. 153 hand. Qi, sword.
260 pilaster [ACT iv.
Dion. What, will he carry it to Spaine in's
pocket ?
Pha. I will not leave one man alive, but the
King, 155
A cooke, and a taylor.
Dion. Yes, you may do well to spare your
lady bedfellow, and her you may keep for a
spawner.
King. I see the injuries I have done must be
reveng'd. 160
Dion. Sir, this is not the way to finde her out.
King. Run all, disperse your selves. The
man that findes her,
Or (if she be kild) the traytor, Fie make him
great.
Dion. I know some would give five thousand
pounds to finde her. 165
Pka. Come, let us seeke.
King. Each man a severall way, here I my
selfe.
Dion. Come gentlemen, we here.
Cle. Lady, you must goe search too.
Megra. I had rather be search* d my selfe. 170
Exit omnes.
157 Tes. Q4-F, D, Yet. spare. Qi, leave.
158 lady. Q6, F, ladies. and her . . . spaivner. Qi, here
for a spincer. 164 I know some. Qi, I, some.
1 66-1 67 Pha. King. Qi gives these speeches to ' ' King ' ' and
" Pha." respectively.
170 Megra. Qi, " Gal." be search" d. Qi, the search.
SCENE in.] pilaster 261
[SCENE III.
Another Part of the Forest.]
Enter Aretbusa.
Arethusa. Where am I now ? Feete finde me
out a way,
Without the counsell of my troubled head.
I'le follow you boldly about these woods,
O're mountaines, thorow brambles, pits, and
flouds.
Heaven I hope will ease me. I am sicke.
[She sits down.~^
Enter Bellario.
Eellario. Vender's my lady. God knowes I
want nothing,
Because I doe not wish to live ; yet I
Will try her charity. — Oh heare, you that have
plenty,
From that flowing store, drop some on drie
ground. — See,
The lively red is gone to guard her heart !
I feare she faints : — Madam, looke up ! — She
breathes not. —
I finde . . . 'way. Qi, finde out the way.
4 O're. Qi,or. Morow, Q4'39-F. Ql-Q4'34, through.
She sits down, Qi.
6-14 Tender's . . . comfort, line-division Qa-F. D ends lines
with 'want, live, hear, store, red, faints, more, lord, is it, comfort.
6 Yonder* s my lady. Q I, Yonder my lady is. God. Q I, gods;
Q3-F, D, Heaven. 9 ground. Qi, grounds.
262 tyilatfter [ACT iv.
Open once more those rosie twins, and send
Unto my lord your latest farewell ! — Oh, she
stirres ! —
How is it, madam ? Speake comfort.
Are. Tis not gently done, 15
To put me in a miserable life,
And hold me there. I prethee, let me goe,
I shall doe best without thee ; I am well.
Enter Pbilaster.
Philaster. I am too blame to be so much in
ragej
Fie tell her coolely, when and where I heard 20
This killing truth. I will be temperate
In speaking, and as just in hearing.
Oh monstrous ! Tempt me not, you gods ! good
gods,
Tempt not a fraile man ! — What's he, that has
a heart,
But he must ease it here ! *5
Bell. My lord, helpe, helpe the princesse.
Are. I am well : forbeare.
Phi. Let me love lightning, let me be embrac't
I a more. Qi omits. twins. Qi, twines.
13 Oh. Q5b, I Oh. she. Q6, he.
14 is it. Qi, is't. 1 8 lam well. Qi omits.
23 you. F, D, ye. 24 What's. Qi, Who's.
25 here. Qi, with his tongue.
a6 helpe, helpe tAe, Qi-Qs, B. Q4-Q6, help j F, help the j
D, help, help! The. 28 lightning. Qi, lightnings.
SCENE HI.] ^HS^ttK 263
And kist by scorpions, or adore the eyes
Of basalisks, rather than trust the tongues 3°
Of hell-bred women ! Some good god looke
downe
And shrinke these veins up ; stick me here a stone
Lasting to ages in the memory
Of this damned act ! — Heare me, you wicked
ones,
You have put hills of fire into this breast, 35
Not to be quench'd with teares ; for which, may
guilt
Sit on your bosomes ! at your meales, and beds,
Dispaire awayte you ! What, before my face ?
Poyson of aspes between your lips ! Deseases
Be your best issues ! Nature make a curse 40
And throw it on you !
Are. Dear Philaster, leave
To be enrag'd, and heare me.
Phi. I have done ;
Forgive my passion. Not the calmecTsea^
When Eolus locksTTp his windy brood,
Is lesse disturbed then I. Pie make you know't : 45
30 the. Q4-F, to.
31 Of . . . downe. Q4-F omit. women. Qa, woman.
33 ages in the. Qi omits.
35 hills of. Q6, F, the hills on. this. Qi, my.
40 make. Q4-Q5, makes.
41 throiv. Qz misprints, through.
42 To be enrag'd. Qi, To inrage.
45 know't, Q2. Q3-F, D, B, know it. Qi, know.
264 tiitoter [ACT iv.
Dear Arethusa, doe but take this sword,
And search how temperate a heart I have ;
Then you and this your boy may live and
raigne
In lust without controle. — Wilt thou, Bellario ?
I prethee kill me ; thou art poore, and maist 50
Nourish ambitious thoughts ; when I am dead,
Thy way were freer. Am I raging now ?
If I were mad I should desire to live.
Sirs, feele my pulse ; whether have you knowne
A man in a more equall tune to die ? 55
Bell. Alas, my lord, your pulse keepes mad-
mans time !
So does your tongue.
Phi. You will not kill me then ?
Are. Kill you ? ,
Bell. Not for the world.
Phi. I blame not thee,
Bellario : thou hast done but that which gods
Would have transform'd themselves to do. Be
gone ! 60
Leave me without reply; this is the last
45 Q I adds stage-direction, offers his drawn sword.
46 doe but. Qi omits.
51 TAy, Qi. Qa-F, This.
54 have you. Qi, D, you have. 55 a. Qi omits.
56 Bell. Qi, " Prin., "/'.*., Arethusa. madman*. Qi, mad-
mens.
58 Are . . . Bell. Qi, "Boy." ..." Prin." the. Q4-
F,a.
SCENE HI.] fjtiatfttf 265
Of all our meetings. (Exit Bell\ario.'\} Kill me
with this sword ;
Be wise, or worse will follow j we are two
Earth cannot beare at once. Resolve to doe,
Or suffer. 65
Are. If my fortune be so good, to let me fall
Upon thy haid, I shall have peace in death.
Yet tell me this, will there be no slanders,
No jealousie in the other world, no ill there ?
Phi. No. 70
Are. Shew me then the way.
Phi. Then guide my feeble hand,
You that have power to doe it, for I must
Performe a peece of justice. — If your youth
Have any way offended heaven, let prayers 75
Short and effectuall reconcile you to it.
Are. I am prepared.
Enter a Countrey Fellow.
Country Fellow. Tie see the King, if he be in
the forrest ; I have hunted him these two houres.
If I should come home and not see him, my go
62 meetings, Qi. Qz-F, meeting.
66 fortune. Qi, F, fortunes. 67 in death. Qi, with earth.
68 -will there. Qi, Qz, there will.
69 jealousie, Qi-Q4- Q5~F, D, B, jealousies.
there. Qi, here.
71 Sheiv . . . way. Qi, Shew me the way to joy.
76 to it. Qi, to't.
Enter . . Fellow. Qi, Enter . . Gallant. 78 Vie. Qi, I will.
79 these. Qi, this. houres. £3, £4, houre.
a66 tjilastor [ACT iv.
sisters would laugh at me. I can see nothing but
people better horst then my selfe, that outride
me ; I can heare nothing but showting. These
kings had need of good braines ; this whooping
is able to put a meane man out of his wits. 85
There's a courtier with his sword drawn ; by
this hand, upon a woman I thinke.
Phi. Are you at peace ?
Are. With heaven and earth.
Phi. May they divide thy soule and body !
\_Wounds her.]
Coun. Hold, dastard, strike a woman ! Th'art 90
a craven, I warrant thee ; thou wouldst bee loth
to play halfe a dozen venies at wasters with a
good fellow for a broken head.
Phi. Leave us, goo_d friend.
Are. What ill-bred man art thou, to intrude
thy selfe 95
Upon our private sports, our recreations.
8z then. Qa misprints, then then. outride. Q4'39,
Q6, outrid.
84 good. Qi, strong. this. Qi, the.
85 is . . . man. Qi, would put a man.
88 Are . . . earth. B includes May they in this line.
heaven. F, Heavens.
89 May. Qi, Nay.
Wounds her. Qi, " Phy. wounds her " after peace, 1. 88.
91 thou vuou/dst. Qi, thou d'st ; Qs~ Q6, thou wouldest.
92 dozen. Q4-F, dozen of. venies. Qz, Q3, spell, veines.
93 good fellow. Qi, man.
SCENE HI.] $\)Ua$ttt 267
Coun. God uds me, I understand you not ;
but I know the rogue has hurt you.
Phi. Persue thy owne affaires ; it will be ill
To multiply blood upon my head, which thou 100
Wilt force me to.
Coun. I know not your rethoricke, but I can
lay it on if you touch the woman. They fight.
Phi. Slave, take what thou deservest !
Are. Heaven guard my lord !
Coun. Oh, doe you breathe ? 105
Phi. I heare the tread of people. I am hurt ;
The gods take part against me ; could this boore
Have held me thus else ? I must shift for life,
Though I doe loathe it. I would finde a course
To lose it rather by my will then force. no
Exit Philaster.
Coun. I cannot follow the rogue : I preethee
wench, come kisse me now.
Enter Pbara^montT], Dion, Cle\remoni\y Tbrasi[tine]
and Woodmen.
Pharamond. What art thou ?
Coun. Almost kild I am for a foolish woman ;
a knave has hurt her. 115
97 uds me. Qi, judge me j Q4-F, uds.
98 you. Qi, ye. 102 rethoricke. Qi, Rethrack.
104 Heaven. Qi, Gods; Q4-F, D, Heavens.
107 could. Qi, would. 109 loathe. Qi, lose.
112 come kisse, Qi, B. Qi-F, D, come and kiss.
113 Pharamond. Qi, "Leon."
268 Blaster [ACT iv.
Pha. The princesse, gentlemen ! Where's
the wound madam ? Is it dangerous ?
Are. He has not hurt me.
Coun. By God, she lies; has hurt her in the
breast,
Look else.
Pka. O sacred spring of innocent blood ! iao
Dion. Tis above wonder ! who should dare
this ?
Are. I felt it not.
Pha. Speake villaine, who has hurt the prin-
cesse ?
Coun. Is it the princesse ?
Dion. I. 125
Coun. Then I have scene something yet.
Pba. But who has hurt her ?
Coun. I told you, a rogue ; I ne're saw him
before, I.
Pha. Madam, who did it ?
Are. Some dishonest wretch ;
Alas, I know him not, and doe forgive him. 130
Coun. Hee's hurt too ; he cannot goe farre; I
made* my fathers olde foxe flie about his eares.
119 By God. Q3-F, D, I'faith. in the. Qi, i'the.
1 20 Look else, Qq, F, include in preceding line. 0 sacred. Qi,
oh secret. 125 Dion. I. Qi, Omnes. I.
127 Pha. Qi, "Leon." hurt her. Q I, done it.
129—130 Some . . . forgive him. Verse-division of D 5 one line
in Qq, F. 132 made. Qi, let. about his. Qi, about's.
SCENE IR] ^ilS^ttt 269
Pba. How will you have me kill him ?
Are. Not at all; tis some distracted fellow.
Pha. By this hand, Fie leave never a piece 135
of him bigger then a nut, and bring him all to
you in my hat.
Are. Nay, good sir ;
If you doe take him, bring him quicke to me,
And I will study for a punishment, 140
Great as his fault.
•Pha. I will.
Are. But sweare.
Pha. By all my love I will.
Woodmen, conduct the princesse to the King,
And beare that wounded fellow to dressing.
Come, gentlemen, wee'l follow the chase close. 145
Exit Are\_tbusa~^t Pba^ramond~^t Di[ori]t
C!e \remont\ , Tbra \_silini\ , and I Wood-
man.
Coun. I pray you, friend, let me see the King.
2nd Wood. That you shall, and receive thanks.
Coun. If I get cleare of this, Pie goe see no V
more gay sights. Exeunt. ''
135 hand. Qi, ayre. never. Q5~ F, ne'er.
136 of him. Qi omits. to you, Qi, Q4-F omit.
141 fault. Qi, sinne. 142 I will. Q5a, I will. I will.
142-145 By all . . . close. Verse-division of D. Prose in
Qq, F. 143 Woodmen. Q4-F, D, B. Qi-Q3, Woodman.
144 to. Qi, unto. Exit, etc. Qi prints simply Exit.
147 2nd Wood. Qi, "Cle."
148 of, Qi-£3- Q4-F, with. goe see, F. Qi, see j '
Q2-Q6, goe to see. Exeunt. In Qq, F, opposite 1. 147.
270
[SCENE IV.
Another Part of the Forest.']
Enter Eellario.
Bellarlo. A heavinesse neere death sits on my
brow,
And I must sleepe. Beare me, thou gentle banke,
For ever if thou wilt. You sweete ones all,
\_Lies dovunJ^
Let me unworthy presse you : I could wish
I rather were a course strewd 'ore with you 5
Then quicke above you. Dulnesse shuts mine
eyes,
And I am giddy. Oh, that I could take
So sound a sleepe that I might never wake !
[Sleeps.]
Enter Pbilaster.
Phi/aster. I have donejll; my conscience calls
me false,
To strike at her that would not strike at me. 10
When I did fight, me thought I heard her pray
The gods to guard me. She may be abusde,
And I a loathed villain : if she be,
She will conceale who hurt her. He has wounds,
And cannot follow, neither knowes he me. 15
Who's this ? Bellario sleeping ? If thou beest
I A heavinesse neere. Qi, O heavens ! heavy.
3 ones. Qi, on. Lies doiont D. 6 mine. Qi, my.
7 Oh. Qi omits* 16 beest. Qi, be'st.
SCENE IV.]
Guilty, there is no justice that thy sleepe
Should be so sound, and mine, whom thou hast
wrong'd,
So broken. (Cry within.) Hark ! I am persued.
You gods,
Fie take this offerd meanes of my escape.
They have no marke to know me but my
blood,
If she be true ; if false, let mischiefe light
On all the world at once ! Sword, print my
wounds
Upon this sleeping boy ! I ha none, I thinke,
Are mortal, nor would I lay greater on thee.
Wounds him.
Bell. Oh, death I hope is come! Blest be
that hand !
It meant me well. Againe, for pitties sake !
Phi. I have caught my selfe;
P blaster] falls.
The losse of blood hath stayed my flight. Here,
here
Is he that stroke thee ; take thy full revenge ;
Use me, as I did meane thee, worse then death ;
Pie teach thee to revenge. This lucklesse hand
Wounded the princesse ; tell my followers,
19 Cry within. So placed in Ql ; Qz-F, after I. 17.
21 blood, Qi. Qz-F, wounds.
24 this. Qi, his. boy. Qi, body. I ha. Q I, he has.
27 meant. Qi, wisht. pitties. Qi, pittie.
272 |9i)ila$trr [ACTIV.
Thou didst receive these hurts in staying me,
And I will second thee ; get a reward. 35
Bell. Fly, fly, my lord, and save your selfe.
Phi. How's this ?
Wouldst thou I should be safe ?
Bell. Else were it vaine
For me to live. These little wounds I have
Ha not bled much ; reach me that noble hand ;
He helpe to cover you.
Phi. Art thou then true to me ? 40
Bell. Or let me perish loath'd. Come, my
good lord,
Creepe in amongst those bushes ; who does know
But that the gods may save your much lov'd
breath ?
Phi. Then I shall dye for griefe, if not for
this,
That I have wounded thee. What wilt thou doe ? 45
Bell. Shift for my selfe well ; peace, I heare
um come. \_Philaster creeps into a busk.]
Within. Follow, follow, follow ! that way
they went.
36 Fly y fly. Qi, Hide, hide.
37 were it. Qi, it was j Q6, F, it were.
38 little. Qi omits. 39 Ha. Qi, has.
40 then, only Qi. 41 good. Qi omits.
42 amongst y Qi, F. Q2-Q6, among. those. Qi, these.
43 much fa* a breath. Qi, your breeth in't, Shromd.
46 Phi/aster . . . bush, W, D, B.
47 Follow, fo/Iovu, follow \ Qi, Follow, follow.
SCENE IV.]
Bell. With my owne wounds Tie bloudy my
owne sword.
I need not counterfeit to fall j heaven knowes,
That I can stand no longer. [Falls.']
Enter Pharamond, Dion, Cleremont, Tbrasiline.
Pharamond. To this place we have tract him
by his bloud.
Cleremont. Yonder, my lord, creepes one
away.
Dion. Stay sir ; what are you ?
Bell. A wretched creature wounded in these
woods
By beasts ; relieve me, if your names be men,
Or I shall perish.
Dion. This is he, my lord,
Upon my soule, that hurt her ; tis the boy,
That wicked boy that serv'd her.
Pha. O, thou damn'd in thy creation !
What cause couldst thou shape to strike the
princesse ?
Bell. Then I am betrayed.
Dion. Betrayed ! no, apprehended.
Bell. I confesse;
(Urge it no more) that, big with evill thoughts,
50 That. Qi omits. Falls, D. Qi, Boy falls downe.
51 ive have. Qi, I.
52-53 Cleremont. Dion. Qi, "Leon." " Cle."
56 Dion. Qi, "Tra." 57 tis. Qi, it is.
59 ify" Q5a> th*- ^o strike. Q3~F, D, B, hurt.
274
I set upon her, and did make my ayme
Her death. For charity, let fall at once 65
The punishment you meane, and do not load
This weary flesh with tortures.
Pha. I will know
Who hired thee to this deed.
Bell. Mine owne revenge.
Pha. Revenge, for what ?
Bell. It pleasde her to receive
Me as her page, and when my fortunes eb'd, 70
That men strid ore them carelesse, she did
showre
Her welcome graces on me, and did swell
My fortunes, till they overflowed their bankes,
Threatning the men that crost um j when, as swift
As stormes arise at sea, she turn'd her eyes 75
To burning sunnes upon me, and did dry
The streames she had bestowed, leaving me
worse
And more contemn'd then other little brookes,
Because I had beene great. In short, I knew
I could not live, and therefore did desire 80
To dye reveng'd.
Pha. If tortures can be found
64 make. Q4-F, take. 67 tortures. Qi, tortour.
67-68 I will . . . this deed. One line Qi, F.
68 Mine. Qi, My. 69 Pha. Qi, "Cle."
71 carelesse. Q4~ F, carelessly. 74 um. Qi, them.
76 sunnes. Qi, Sines.
SCENE IV.] $&$ttt 2?$
Long as thy natural life, resolve to feele
The utmost rigour.
Pbilaster creepes out of a bush.
Cle. Helpe to leade him hence.
Phi. Turne backe, you ravishers of innocence !
Know ye the price of that you beare away 85
So rudely ?
Pba. Who's that ?
Dion. Tis the Lord Philaster.
Phi. Tis not the treasure of all kings in one,
The wealth of Tagus, nor the rocks of pearle
That pave the court of Neptune, can weigh
downe
That vertue. It was I that hurt the princesse. 90
Place me, some god, upon a Piramis,
Higher then hils of earth, and lend a voyce
Loud as your thunder to me, that from thence
I may discourse to all the under-world
The worth that dwels in him !
Pba. How's this ?
Bell. My lord, some man 95
Weary of life, that would be glad to dye.
Phi. Leave these untimely courtezies, Bellario.
83 rigour. Qi, vigour. Stage-direction placed as in Qi ; after
•vigour in Qa-F. 84 innocence. Qi, innocents.
**5 ye' Q1* y°u- "&«'• QJ> what. 86 Tis the. Qi, My.
87^/7. Qi, all the. 90 that. Q6, as.
91 upon a Piramis. Qi, on a Pyramades.
93 your. Qi, you. 94 discourse to all. Qi, teach.
97 these . . . courtesies. Qi, this . . . courtcsie.
276 laster [ACTIV.
Bell. Alas, hee's mad; come, will you lead
me on ?
Phi. By all the oaths that men ought most
to keepe,
And gods to punish most when men do breake, 100
He toucht her not. — Take heede, Bellario,
How thou dost drowne the vertues thou hast
showne
With perjury. — By all the gods, twas I !
You know she stood betwixt me and my right.
Pha. Thy owne tongue be thy judge.
Cle. It was Philaster. 105
Dion. Is't not a brave boy ?
Well, sirs, I feare me, we were all deceived.
Phi. Have I no friend here ?
Dion. Yes.
Phi. Then shew it : some
Good body lend a hand to draw us neerer.
Would you have teares shed for you when you
dye? "°
Then lay me gently on his necke, that there
I may weepe flouds, and breath forth my spirit.
98 heis. Q3-Q6, he is. lead me on. Qi, beare me hence.
100 to, Qi, Edd. '78. Qa-F, D, B, doe.
101 not. Qi, nor. 103 the gods. Q4~ F, D, that's good.
105-108 Cle. . . . Phi. Qi gives these five speeches to Leon,
Thra., Boy, Leon, and Boy, respectively.
106 J*V. Q3, Is it.
107 lirif I feare me. F omits me ; Qi, I feare me, sir. all. Qi
omits. ill gently. Q6, F, gentle. 112 forth. Q3-F, out.
SCENE IV.]
Tis not the wealth of Plutus, nor the gold
Lockt in the heart of earth, can buy away
This armefull from me; this had bin a ran-
some "5
To have redeemed the great Augustus Caesar,
Had he bin taken. You hard-hearted men,
More stony than these mountaines, can you see
Such cleere pure bloud drop, and not cut your
flesh
To stop his life ? to bind whose bitter wounds, 120
Queenes ought to teare their haire, and with
their teares.
um. — Forgive me, thou that art the wealth
Of poore Philaster.
Enter King, Aretbusa, and a Guard.
King. Is the villaine taine ?
Pha . Sir, here be two confesse the deede ; but
sure
It was Philaster.
Phi. Question it no more ; it was. 125
King. The fellow that did fight with him
will tell us that.
113 Tis not. Q I, Not all. Plutus. Qi, Pluto.
119 cleere. Qi, a cleere. 120 bitter. Q4~F, better.
121 haire. Qi, haires. 122 bathe, Qi. Qa-F, bath.
124 Pha. Qi, "Leon." sure, D, B. Qi, sute. Q2-
F, W, Boas, say.
125 // -was Philaster. Qq, F, include in 1. 124. Phi. Qi,
" King."
126 King. Qi, "Pha." us that. Q4-F, us.
278
Arethusa. Ay me, I know he will.
King. Did not you know him ?
Are. Sir, if it was he, he was disguised.
Phi. I was so. Oh my stars, that I should
live still !
King. Thou ambitious foole, 13°
Thou that hast laid a traine for thy owne life !
Now I do meane to doe ; Tie leave to talke.
Beare them to prison.
Are. Sir, they did plot together, to take hence
This hannlesse-life4 should it passe unreveng'd, 135
I should to earth go weeping; grant me then,
By all the love a rather beares his child,
Their custodies, and that I may appoint
Their tortures and their deaths.
Dion. Death ? soft : pur law will not reach
that for this fault. 140
King. Tis granted ; take um to you, with a
guard. —
Come, princely Pharamond, this businesse past,
We may with more security goe on
To your intended match.
[Exeunt all except Dion, Cleremont, and
Tbrasiline~]
127 he -will. Qi, him well. 128 was he. Qi, were he.
133 them, Qi. Qz-F, him. 136 go. Qi omits.
137 love. Qi, loves. 138 and. Qi omits.
139 deaths. Q6, F, death. 140 our. Qi, your.
143 may. Qi, shall. 144 To your. Qi, with our.
Exeunt, etc., D. Qi, Exit King and Pharamont.
SCENE IV.] $&$ttt 2/9
Cle. I pray that this action lose not Philaster i45
the hearts of the people.
Dion. Feare it not ; their overwise heads will
thinke it but a tricke. Exeunt omnes.
Finis Actus quarti.
145 Cle. Qi, "Leon." 147 Dion. Qi, "Cle.1
Finis . . . quarti. Qi, F, omit.
ACTUS QUINTUS. SCENA PRIMA.
[Before the Palace.]
Enter Dion, Cleremont, Thrasiline.
Thrasiline. Has the King sent for him to
death ?
Dion. Yes, but the King must know tis not
in his power to warre with heaven.
Cleremont. We linger time ; the King sent 5
for Philaster and the headsman an houre agoe.
Thra. Are all his wounds well ?
Dion. All ; they were but scratches, but the
losse of bloud made him faint.
Cle. We dally, gentlemen. 10
Tbra. Away !
Dion. Weele skuffle hard before he perish.
Exeunt.
[SCENE II.
A Prison.~\
Enter Philaster, Arethusa, Bellario.
Arethusa. Nay, faith, Philaster, grieve not;
we are well.
Enter . . . Cleremont. Qz spells " Clerimond " throughout
Act v. I Thrasiline. Qi gives this speech and the seven
succeeding ones to Leon, Cleremont, Thrasiline, Leon, Thrasiline,
Cleremont, Leon, and Thrasiline, respectively.
I a Weele skujfte. Qi,ashufle.
Exeunt. Qi, before preceding line, Exit.
Enter, etc. Qi, Enter Phylaster, Princesse, Boy, in prison.
I faith. Q4-F, D, dear.
SCENE IL] tlatftet 28 1
Bellario. Nay, good my lord, forbeare, were
wondrous well.
Phi/aster. Oh Arethusa, O Bellario, leave to
be kind !
I shall be shut from heaven, as now from earth,
If you continue so. I am a man, 5
False to a paire of the most trusty ones
That ever earth bore : can it beare us all ?
Forgive and leave me. But the King hath sent
To call me to my death ; oh, shew it me,
And then forget me ! And for thee, my boy, 10
'I shall deliver words will mollifie
The hearts of beasts to spare thy innocence.
Bell. Alas, my lord, my life is not a thing
Worthy your noble thoughts ; tis not a life,
Tis but a peece of child-hood throwne away. 15
Should I outlive you, I should then outlive
Vertue and honour ; and when that day comes,
If ever I shall close these eyes but once,
May I live spotted for my perjury,
And waste by time to nothing ! *o
Are. And I (the wofuFst maid that ever was,
2 were, Q*. Qi, Q3-F, D, B, we are. 3 0. Qi, and.
4 shut, Qi. Qa-F, shot. as ww from earth. Qi omits.
6 most trusty. Qi, truest. 8 Forgive. Qi, forgive me.
16 you. Q6, F, omit. I should. F, I shall, then. Qi omits.
17 comes. Qi, come. 18 shall. F, should.
20 by time, Qi, B. Qz, D, by limbs; Qs-F, my limbs.
21 that. Q6, F, as. was. Qi, B, liv'd.
282
Forc't with my hands to bring my lord to death)
Doe by the honour of a virgin sweare
To tell no houres beyond it.
Phi. Make me not hated so.
Are. Come from this prison, all joyfull to our
deaths ! *5
Phi. People will teare me when they find
you true
To such a wretch as I ; I shall dye loath'd.
Injoy your kingdomes peaceably, whilst I
For ever sleepe, forgotten with my faults.
Every just servant, every maid in love, 30
Will have a peece of me, if you be true.
Are. My deere lord, say not so.
Bell. A peice of you !
He was not born of woman that can cut it
And looke on.
Phi. Take me in teares betwixt you,
For my heart will breake with shame and sor-
row. 35
Are. Why, tis well.
Bell. Lament no more.
Phi. [Why,] what would you have
done ?
If you had wrong'd me basely, and had found
24 houres beyond. Qi, houre behind.
28 kingdomes. Qi, Kingdome.
30 servant. Qi, maiden. 32 deere lord. Qi, deerest.
33 -woman, Qi. Q2-F, women. 37 Why^ only Qi.
SCENE III.] J9l)ila0tft 283
Your life no price compared to mine ? For love,
sirs,
Deale with me truely.
Bell. Twas mistaken, sir. 40
Phi. Why if it were ?
Bell. Then, sir, we would have ask'd
Your pardon.
Phi. And have hope to injoy it ?
Are. Injoy it ! I.
Phi. Would you indeed ? be plaine.
Bell. We would, my lord,
Phi. Forgive me then.
Are. So, so.
Bell. Tis as it should be now.
Phi. Lead to my death. Exeunt. 45
[SCENE III.
A Room in the Palace.]
Enter King, Dion, Cleremont, Thrasilin.
King. Gentlemen, who saw the prince ?
Cleremont. So please you, sir, hee's gone to
see the city
39 Tour . . . mine, Mason conj. W, D, B. Qz-F, My
. . . yours 5 Qi, My life no whit compared to yours,
41-42 Then . . . pardon. Qq, F, one line,
42 Tour, Q2. Qi, Q3-F, you.
44 Bell. Qi, " Prin." Enter, etc. Qi adds, and a guard.
2 Cleremont. Qi, "Leon."
284 p&tla$ter [ACT v.
And the new platforme, with some gentlemen
Attending on him.
King. Is the princesse ready
To bring her prisoner out ?
Tkrasiline. She waites your grace. 5
King. Tell her we stay. {Exit Tbrasilme.~\
Dion. King, you may be deceived yet ;
The head you aime at cost more setting on
Than to be lost, so lightly. If it must off;
Like a wilde over-flow, that scopes before him
A golden stacke, and with it shakes down
bridges, I0
Cracks the strong hearts of pines, whose cable
roots
Held out a thousand stormes, a thousand thun-
ders,
And, so made mightier, takes whole villages
Upon his back, and in that heate of pride,
Charges strong townes, towers, castles, pallaces, 15
And layes them desolate ; so shall thy head,
Thy noble head, bury the lives of thousands,
That must bleed with thee like a sacrifice,
In thy red ruines.
3 platforme. Qi, Plotforme. 5 Thrasiline. Qi, " Cle."
6 Exit Thrasiline, only Qi.
8 to be lost. Qi, to lose it. lightly. Q5~F, slightly. After
lightly ', Qi adds stage-direction, "aside."
10 stacke. Qi, stocke. 13 mightier. Qi, weightier.
14 that. Qi, the. 16 layes. Qi, leaves.
SCENE EL] ty\Z$ttt 285
Enter Pbilaster, Arethusa, Bellario, in a robe and
garland, \_and Tbrajiline.']
King. How now, what mflske'is this ? 20
Bellario. Right royall sir, I should
Sing you an epithelamion of these lovers,
But having lost my best ayres with my fortunes,
And wanting a celestiall harpe to strike
This blessed union on, thus in glad story 25
I give you all. These two fair cedar-branches,
The noblest of the mountaine, where they grew
Straightest and tallest, under whose still shades
The worthier beasts have made their layars, and
slep't
Free from [the firver of] the Sirian starre 3°
And the fell thunder-stroke, free from the clouds,
When they were big with humor, and delivered
In thousand spouts their issues to the earth :
O there was none but silent quiet there !
Till never pleased Fortune shot up shrubs, 35
Base under-brambles, to divorce these branches ;
And for a while they did so, and did raigne
in a robe and garland. Qi, with a garland of flowers on's head.
2,1 should. Qi, shal. 22 of these lovers. Ql omits.
23 having. Q5a, have. 25 on. Qi omits.
27 mountaine. Qi, mountaines.
30 thefir-ver of, only Qi.
30—33. Free from . . . earth. Line-division of D. Q2— F,
three lines, ending thunder-stroke, humor, earth.
33 deli-ver'd. Q4-F. Qi-Q3, deliver.
34 their. Qi, that. 35 pleased. Q4'39~ F, pleas'd.
36 brambles, to divorce. Qi, branches, to devour.
286 Blaster
Over the mountaine, and choake up his beauty
With brakes, rude thornes and thistles, till the
sunne
Scorcht them even to the roots and dryed them
there ; 4°
And now a gentle gale hath blowne againe,
That made these branches meete and twine to-
gether,
Never to be divided. The god that sings
His holy numbers over marriage beds
Hath knit their noble hearts, and here they stand 45
Your children, mighty King : and I have done.
King. How, how ?
Aretbusa. Sir, if you love it in plaine truth,
(For now there is no masking in't ) this gentle-
man,
The prisoner that you gave me, is become
My keeper, and through all the bitter throwes 50
Your jealousies and his ill fate have wrought
him,
38 choake. Qi, did choake j Q4'39~F, choakt.
39 rude thornes. Qi, rud, thornes. the. Q6, F, thy.
40 even. Qi omits. roots. Qi, roote. them. Qi, un.
41 a. Q5a omits, gentle. Qa, £3, gentler, hath. Qi, has.
43 divided. Qi, unmade j but D and B cite unarmde as read-
ing of Qi.
44 holy. Qi omits. numbers, Q4~ F. Qi— Q3, number.
over. Qi, ore. 45 Hath. Qi, has. noble. Q5a omits.
46 mighty. Qi, worthy. 48 noiv. Q4~ F, omit.
50 throvjes. Qi, threats} modern Edd., throes.
SCENE HI.] tytylMttt 287
Thus nobly hath he strugled ; and at length
Arrived heere my deare husband.
King. Your deere husband !
Call in the captain of the cittadell.
There you shall keepe your wedding. He provide 55
A masque shall make your Himen turne his
saffron
Into a sullen coat, and sing sad requiems
To your departing soules ;
Bloud shall put out your torches, and instead
Of gaudy flowers about your wanton necks, 60
An axe shall hang, like a prodigious meteor,
Ready to crop your loves sweetes. Heare, you
gods !
From this time do I shake all title off
Of father to this woman, this base woman j
And what there is of vengeance in a lyon, 65
Chaft among dogs, or rob'd of his deare yong,
The same in fore 't more terrible, more mighty,
Expect from me !
Are. Sir, by that little life I have left to
sweare by,
52 strugled. Q5-F, strangled.
54-58 Call in . . . soules. Line-division of D, B. Qa-F print
call in in line 53 and end the next four lines with keepe, make, coat,
soules. 55 There. Qi, where.
65 vengeance in. Qi, venge. in.
66 Chaft, Qi. Q2-Q4, Chast; Q5-F, Cast. among. Qi,
Q6, F, amongst. 68 Expect. Qi, looke.
69 Sir, included in this line in Qi, but printed on a line by
itself Qz-F.
288 Blaster [ACTV.
Theres nothing that can stirre me from my selfe. 70
What I have done, I have done without repent-
ance,
For death can be no bug-beare unto me,
So long as Pharamond is not my headsman.
Dion [aside\. Sweet peace upon thy soule,
thou worthy maid,
When ere thou dyest 5 for this time He excuse
thee, 75
Or be thy prologue.
Philaster. Sir, let me speake next,
And let my dying words be better with you
Then my dull living actions. If you ayme
At the deere life of this sweet innocent,
Y'are a tyrant and a savage monster, 80
[That feedes upon the blood you gave a life to ;]
Your memory shall be as foule behind you
As you are living ; all your better deeds
Shall be in water writ, but this in marble ;
No chronicle shall speake you, though your owne, 85
But for the shame of men. No monument
(Though high and big as Pelion) shall be able
To cover this base murther ; make it rich
70 There*. Q5a, There is. that. Qi omits.
71 can . . . me. Qi, to me can be no bug bear.
73 So. Qi, as. 76 Or be. Qi, ore by.
79 deere. Qi omits. 80 IT are. Qi, you are.
8 I That . . . to, only Qi. 86 the. Qi, a.
87 Pelion. Qa, Peleon ; £53, Pelican.
SCENE m.] t)tteter 289
With brasse, with purest gold, and shining
jasper,
Like the piramides ; lay on epitaphes, 9°
Such as make great men gods ; my little marble
(That only cloathes my ashes, not my faults)
Shall farre outshine it. And for after-issues,
Think not so madly of the heavenly wisedomes,
That they will give you more for your mad rage 95
To cut off, unlesse it be some snake, or something
Like your selfe, that in his birth shall strangle you.
Remember my father, King ! There was a fault,
But I forgive it. Let that sinne perswade you
To love this lady. If you have a soule, I0°
Thinke, save her, and be saved. For my selfe,
I have so long expected this glad houre,
So languisht under you, and dayly withered,
That, by the gods, it is a joy to die ;
I find a recreation in't. I05
Enter a Messenger.
Messenger. Wheres the King ?
King. Heere.
Mess. Get you to your strength,
And rescue the Prince Pharamond from danger ;
Hee's taken prisoner by the citizens,
Fearing the Lord Philaster.
Dion [aside]. Oh, brave followers !
89 with purest. Qi omits.
104 by the gods. Q4-F, D, heaven knows. a. Q4-F, my.
106 Wheres. D, Where is. you. Qi omits.
109 Fearing. Qi, For. followers. Qi, fellowes.
290 Blaster [ACT v.
Muteny, my fine deere countrimen, muteny! no
Now, my brave valiant foremen, shew your
weapons
In honour of your mistresses !
Enter another Messenger.
2nd Messenger. Arme, arme, arme, arme !
King. A thousand divels take [these citi-
zens ! ]
Dion \aside~\. A thousand blessings on um ! 115
2nd Mess. Arme, O King ! the citty is in
muteny,
Led by an old gray ruffin, who comes on
In rescue of the Lord Philaster.
King. Away to the cittadell ! —
Exit [Messenger] with Are\thusa\,
Phi\Jaster,~\ Be liar io.
He see them safe,
And then cope with these burgers. Let the
guard 120
And all the gentlemen give strong attendance.
Exit King.
Manent Dion, Clermont, Tbrasiline.
Cle. The citty up ! this was above our wishes.
Enter another Messenger. Qi omits j D, Enter a second gentle-
man.
113 2nd Messenger. Qi, " 2 Mes" ; Qa-F, " Mess."
arme. Qi, Q4--F, repeat only three times.
114 these citizens, Qi. Qi— F, um or 'em.
115 um. Qi, them. Exit . . . Bellario. Qi omits.
SCENE m.i Blaster 291
Dion. I, and the marriage too. By al the
gods,
This noble lady has deceiv'd us all.
A plague upon my self, a thousand plagues, 125
For having such unworthy thoughts of her
deare honour !
O, I could beat my selfe ! or do you beat me,
He beat you, for we had all one thought.
. No, no, twill but lose time.
Dion. You say true. Are your swords 130
sharpe ? — Well, my deare countrymen What-
ye-lacks, if you continue and fall not backe
upon the first broken shinne, He have ye chron-
icled, and chronicled, and cut and chronicled,
and all-to-be-praisde and sung in sonnets, and 135
bawled in new brave ballads, that all tongues
shall troule you in secula seculorum, my kind
can-carriers.
Thra. What if a toy take um ith heels now,
and they runne all away, and cry, the divell 140
take the hindmost ?
123 By al the gods, Qi, B. Qa-F, D, by my life.
124-128 This noble . . . thought. Verse-division of Edd. 1787,
W, D, B. Qq, F, prose.
131 What-ye-lacks, Q2. Hyphens added by B, who follows
Qi, what you lackes. Q3~F, what ye lacke.
133 shinne. Q I, Skin. have ye. Qi, see you; Q3-F, D,
B, have you. 135 all-to-be-praisde. Hyphens added by Th.
136 bawled, Heath conj., D, B. Qq, F, bathd.
new brave. Q I ,brave new. 138 can-carriers. Q i , Countrimen.
292
Dion. Then the same divell take the fortnost
too, and sowce him for his breakefast. If they
all prove cowards, my curses flye among jfhemt ^
and be speeding ! May they have murreins 145
raigne to keep the gentlemen at home unbound
in easie freeze ! May the mothes branch their
velvets, and their silkes only be worne before
sore eyes ! May their false lights undoe um, and
discover presses, holes, staines, and oldnesse in 150
their stuffes, and make them shop-rid ! May they
keepe whores and horses, and breake ; and live
mued up with neckes of beefe and turnups !
May they have many children, and none like
the father! May they know no language but 155
that gibberish they prattle to their parcels, un-
lesse it bee the goatish Latine they write in their
bonds, and may they write that false, and lose
their debts !
Enter the King.
King. Now the vengeance of all the gods 160
confound them ! How they swarme together !
143 sowce. Qi, sawce.
144 flye . . . speeding. Qi, flush amongst um and ill-speed-
ing. F, amongst for among.
145 murreins. Qi, murriens ; Qi, injurious.
146 unbound. Qi omits.
147 easie. Qi, rafine. mothes. Qi, moth.
153 neckes. Q5a, neck. 155 May they. Qi, And.
157 goatish, Qz, Q3. Qi, gotish j Q4-F, goarish ; Th, W,
Gothick.
SCENE HI.] y&ty\&8ttt 293
what a hum they raise ! — Divels choake your
wilde throats ! — If a man had need to use their
valours, he must pay a brokage for it, and then
bring um on, and they will fight like sheepe. Tis 165
Philaster, none but Philaster, must allay this
heate. They will not heare me speake, but
fling durt at me and call me tyrant. Oh, runne,
deare friend, and bring the Lord Philaster!
speake him faire ; call him prince ; do him all 170
the courtesie you can ; commend me to him !
Oh, my wits, my wits 1 Exit Cleremont^
Dion [aside] . Oh my brave countrymen ! L ^ ^
as I live, I will not buy a pinne out of your^
walls for this ; nay, you shall cozen me, and He 175
, thank you, and send you brawne and bacon, and
soile you every long vacation a brace of foremen,' -.;>-
that at Michaelmas shall come up fat and kick-
ing.—
King. What they will do with this pooreiSo
prince, the gods know, and I feare.
Dion [aside] . Why, sir, thei'le flea him, and
163 ivilde Qi, wide. their. Qi, your.
164 he. Qi, we. for it. Qi, for't.
165 um. Qi omits, and. Q5~F omit. they. Qi, you.
l "jo faire. Q I, well. 171 courtesie. Qi, courtesies.
173 countrymen. Qi, citizens.
177 and soile you. Qi omits. every. Qz misprints, ever.
177—179 vacation . . . kicking. Qi, vocation} and foule
shall come up fat and in brave liking. 180 this. Qi, that.
181 and. Q i omits. 182 sir. Q i omits.
294 pilaster [ACT v.
make church-buckets on's skin, to quench re-
bellion ; then clap a rivet in's sconce, and hang
him up for [a] signe. 185
Enter Cleremont with Pbilaster.
King. O, worthy sir, forgive me ; do not make
Your miseries and my faults meete together,
To bring a greater danger. Be your selfe,
Still sound amongst diseases. I have wrong' d you ;
And though I find it last, and beaten to it, 19°
Let first your goodnesse know it. Calme the
people,
And be what you were borne to. Take your love,
And with her my repentance, all my wishes,
And all my prayers. By the gods, my heart
speakes this ;
And if the least fall from me not performed, 195
May I be strooke with thunder !
Phi/aster. Mighty sir,
I will not doe your greatnesse so much wrong,
As not to make your word truth. Free the
princesse
And the poore boy, and let me stand the shock
Of this mad sea-breach, which He either turne 200
Or perish with it.
King. Let your owne word free them.
183 quench. Q6, F, squench. a, Qq, F, except Qz.
190 to it. Qi, to't. 191 first. Qi, me. it. Qi omits.
193 all. Q4-F, and. 194 speakes this. Q I , speakes all this.
199 poore. Qi omits. 201 them. Qi, her.
SCENE IV.] J£l)ila0t£t 295
Phi. Then thus I take my leave, kissing your
hand,
And hanging on your royall word. Be kingly,
And be not mooved, sir ; I shall bring you peace,
Or never bring my selfe backe. 20S
King. [Now] all the gods goe with thee.
Exeunt omnes.
[SCENE IV.
A Street.']
Enter an old Captaine and Citizens with Pbaramond.
Captain. Gome, my brave mirmidons, lets
fall on.
Let your caps swarm, my boyes, and your nim-
ble tongs
Forget your mother gibberish of " what do you
lacke."
203 royall. Q I, noble. 204 you, Qi. Qz-F, your.
206 Now, Qi, B. Exeunt omnes. Qi omits.
Scene IV. The text of Qi from this point to the end of the
play is reprinted at the beginning of the Notes to this play. After
line 37 it departs entirely from the text of Q2— F. Variants of
Qi are henceforth recorded at the foot of the page only when
of importance to the present text.
1 Come, my brave, etc. From the first line of the scene until
the entry of Philaster at line 8 1, Qq, F, present a mixture of prose
and verse, much of the latter impossible. The Edd. '78 printed
the whole as prose j Th, W, and D reduced it to verse ; and B
follows D "with some misgiving." The passage was originally
probably in verse by Fletcher j and D's division is here followed
with notes of its departure from Q2.
2 your caps, Qi. Q2-F, our caps. your nimble. Q4*39-F,
you nimble. 3 mother. Q6, F, mothers.
296 Blaster
And set your mouthes ope, children, till your
pallats
Fall frighted halfe a fathome past the cure 5
Of bay-salt and grose pepper. And then cry,
" Philaster, brave Philaster ! " Let Philaster ^
Be deeper in request, my ding-dongs, "~> ^
-+ My paires of deere indentures, kings of clubs,
* Then your cold water chamblets, or your paint-
ings 10
f- Spitted with copper. Let not your hasty silkes,
-t- Or your branched cloth of bodkin, or your tish-
ues,
, Dearely beloved of spiced cake and custards,
You Robin Hoods, Scarlets, and Johns, tye
your affections
In darknesse to your shops. No, dainty duckers, 15
Up with your three-piled spirits, your wrought
And let your uncut collers make the King feele
The measure of your mightinesse. Philaster !
Cry, my rose-nobles, cry ! fr»*+
All Philaster! Philaster!
Cap. How do you like this, my lord prince ?
4 ope, Qi. Q2-F, Up.
8 ding-dongs. D, from Ql, ding-a-dings.
9 kings. Q4-F, King. 10 your. Q5, you.
13 beloved. Q3-F, beloo'd. custards. Q4~F, custard.
14 tt», Th, B. Qi-F, D, Your.
17 collers. Q4'39~F, coller.
SCENE iv.] Jj^tlatfter 297
These are mad boyes, I tell you ; these are things
That will not strike their top-sailes to a foist,
And let a man of warre, an argosie,
Hull and cry cockles.
Pharamond. Why, you rude slave, do you
know what you doe ? 25
Cap. My pretty prince of puppets, we do
know,
And give your greatnesse warning that you talke
No more such bugs-words, or that solder' d
crowne
Shall be scratchd with a musket. Deere Prince
Pippen,
Downe with your noble bloud ; or, as I live, 30
He have you codled. — Let him lo [o] se, my
spirits;
Make us a round ring with your bills, my
Hectors,
And let me see what this trim man dares do.
Now, sir, have at you ! here I lye ;
And with this swashing blow (do you see,
sweete prince ?) 35
I could hulke your grace, and hang you up
crosse-legd,
28 solder'd. Q3~F, soldred.
33 *«• Qi, Qi- G3-F, D, B, us. 34 lye. Q6, F, it.
35 swashing. Q2, washing. see, sweete, Q,2. Q3, sweet j
Q4, Q5b, G6» sweat ; Qsa, swet ; F, swear.
36 hulke, Q2-F, Boas. Qi, D, B, hock.
298 &tiaster [ACT v.
Like a hare at a poulters, and do this with this
wiper.
Pha. You will not see me murderd, wicked
villaines ?
ist Citizen. Yes, indeed, will we, sir; we
have not seen one
For a great while.
Cap. He would have weapons, would he ? 4°
Give him a broadside, my brave boyes, with your
pikes ;
Branch mee his skin in flowers like a sattin,
And betweene every flower a mortal cut. —
Your royalty shall ravell ! — Jag him, gentlemen ;
He have him cut to the kell, then downe the
seames. 45
Oh for a whip to make him galloone-laces !
He have a coach-whip.
Pha. Oh, spare me, gentlemen !
Cap. Hold, hold ;
The man begins to feare and know himselfe ;
He shall for this time only be seald up, 50
With a feather through his nose, that he may
only
39—47 Yes . . . coach-'whip. Qz— F, as prose to 'whip in 1. 46,
then two short verse-lines ending galloone-laces, coacb-wAip.
40 For, W, D, B. Qz-F, foe.
48 Hold, hold. Q2-F include in 1. 49.
5 1-54 W"nh . . . king. Q2-Q4, verse-lines ending see, going,
you, king ,• Q$— F, three lines ending see, going, king.
SCENE IV.] ^ilS&ttt 299
See heaven, and thinke whither hee's going.
Nay, my beyond-sea sir, we will proclaime you :
You would be king !
Thou tender heire apparant to a church-ale, 55
Thou sleight prince of single scarcenet,<^rr
Thou royall ring-taile, fit to flie at nothing
But poore mens poultry, and have every boy
Beate thee from that too with his bread and butter !
Pha. Gods keepe me from these hel-hounds !
nt Cit. Shalls geld him, captaine ? 60
Cap. No, you shall spare his dowcets, my
deare donsels; -^H -f-t^^w^
As you respect the ladies, let them flourish :
The curses of a longing woman kill
As speedy as a plague, boyes.
1st Cit. He have a leg, that's certaine.
2nd Cit. He have an arme. 65
Cit. He have his nose, and at mine owne
charge build
A colledge and clap't upon the gate.
£tb Cit. I'll have his little gut to string a kit
with,
For certainely a royall gut will sound like silver.-
Pha . Would they were in thy belly, and I past 7°
My paine once !
52 heis. D, B, he is. 53 my. Q6, F, omit.
56 scarcenet. F (correctly) sarcenet. 60 1st. Q4-F, 2.
63 kill, F. Q2-Q6, kills.
63-64 The curses . . . boyes. Q5~F, as one line.
70-71 Would . . . once. Qa-F, one line.
300 p&ter [ACT v.
$th Cit. Good captaine, let me have his liver
to feed ferrets.
Cap. Who will have parcels else ? speake.
Pha. Good gods, consider me ! I shall be
tortur'd.
1st Cit. Captaine, He give you the trimming
of your two-hand sword, 75
And let me have his skinne to make false scab-
bards.
2nd Cit. He had no homes, sir, had he ?
Cap. No, sir, hee's a pollard: ^^7 **""*
What wouldst thou do with homes ?
2nd Cit. O, if he had had,
I would have made rare hafts and whistles of um ; 80
But his shin bones, if they be sound, shall serve
me.
Enter Pbilaster.
AIL Long live Philaster, the brave Prince
Philaster !
Philaster. I thanke you, gentlemen. But why
are these
Rude weapons brought abroad, to teach your
hands
Uncivil trades ?
Cap. My royall Rosicleere, 85
Ti Good. £4, Qsb, God.
75-81 Captaine . . . serve me. Qz-F, as prose.
76 two. Qa, Q3, a. Q4-F omit.
79 had had. Q4-F, had. 81 shin. Qs~Q5, skin.
SCENE IV.] $tyl8i$ttt 3OI
We are thy mirmidons, thy guard, thy rorers ;
And when thy noble body is in durance,
Thus doe we clap our musty murrians on,
And trace the streets in terrour. Is it peace,
Thou Mars of men ? is the King sociable, 90
And bids thee live ? art thou above thy foemen,
And free as Phoebus ? speak. If not, this stand
Of royall bloud shall be abroach, atilt,
And runne even to the lees of honour.
Phi. Hold, and be satisfied : I am my selfe, 95
Free as my thoughts are ; by the gods, I am !
Cap. Art thou the dainty darling of the King ?
Art thou the Hylas to our Hercules ?
Doe the lords bow, and the regarded scarlets
Kiss theire gum'd gols, and cry " We are your
servants " ? I0°
Is the court navigable, and the presence stucke
With flags of friendship ? If not, we are thy
castle,
And this man sleepes.
Phi. I am what 1 desire to be, your friend ;jJ
I am what I was borne to be, your prince. -** 105
Pha. Sir, there is some humanity in you ;
You have a noble soule : forget my name,
And know my misery ; set me safe aboord
94 And runne. Qa— F, B, include in 1. 93.
IOI stucke. Q5-F, struck.
104 / desire, F. Q2-Q6, 1 doe desire. 107 my. Q5a, thy.
302
From these wild canibals, and, as I live,
He quit this land forever. There is nothing, — no
Perpetual prisonment, cold, hunger, sicknesse
Of all sorts, all dangers, and all together,
The worst company of the worst men, madnes,
age,
To be as many creatures as a woman,
And do as all they do, nay, to despaire, — 115
But I would rather make it a new nature,
And live with all these, then endure one howre
Amongst these wild dogges.
Phi. I do pitty you. — Friends, discharge your
feares ;
Deliver me the prince. He warrant you «o
I shall be old enough to finde my safety.
jrd Cit. Good sir, take heede he does not
hurt you ;
Hee's a fierce man, I can tell you, sir.
Cap. Prince, by your leave, He have a sur-
single,
And make you like a hawke. J> He strives. 125
Phi. Away, away, there is no danger in him :
Alas, he had rather sleepe to shake his fit off!
in sicknesse. Qz— Q6 have comma after sicknesse.
112 all dangers. Qz-Q6, of all dangers. all together. Q2-
Q6, altogether.
117 these. Q4-F, D, B, those. 123 Hee's. D, He is.
125 make, Q^-Q6. F, male ; Tb, D, B, mail.
He strives. Q3-Q4, Q5b-F, He stirs.
iv.] pl)tla$ter 303
Looke you, friends, how gently he leads ! Upon
my word,
Hee's tame enough, he need[s] no further
watching.
Good my friends, goe to your houses, 13°
And by me have your pardons and my love;
And know there shall be nothing in my pawer
You may deserve, but you shall have your wishes :
To give you more thankes, were to flatter you.
Countinue still your love; and, for an earnest, 135
Drinke this. [Gives money. ]
AIL Long maist thou live, brave prince, brave
prince, brave prince !
Exit Pbilaster and Pbaramond.
Cap. Go thy wayes, thou art the king of
curtesie !
Fall off againe, my sweete youths. Come,
And every man trace to his house againe, 14°
And hang his pewter up ; then to the taverne,
And bring your wives in muffes. We will have
musicke ;
And the red grape shall make us dance and rise,
boyes. Exeunt.
Ii8 you. Q6, your. 129 needs. Qa-F, need.
130-131 Good . . . love. Verse-division of Edd. '78, W,
D» B 5 Qq» F> as Prose.
138 Go thy wayes. Q4~ F omit.
I39~I43 fa!/ . . . boyes. Verse-division of W, D, B. Qq,
F, four lines ending man, to, have, boyes.
304 pjilaster [ACT v.
[SCENE V.
An Apartment in the Palace.~\
Enter King, Aretbusa, Galatea, Megra, Cleremont,
Dion, Tbrasiline, Bellario, and Attendance.
King. Is it appeas'd ?
Dion. Sir, all is quiet as this dead of night,
As peaceable as sleepe. My Lord Philaster
Brings on the prince himselfe.
King. Kind gentleman !
I will not breake the least word I have given 5
In promise to him : I have heap'd a world
Of griefe upon his head, which yet I hope
To wash away.
Enter Phi taster and Pharamond.
Cleremont. My lord is come.
King. My sonne !
Blest be the time that I have leave to call
Such vertue mine ! Now thou art in mine armes, 10
Me thinkes I have a salve unto my brest
For all the stings that dwell there. Streames of
griefe
That I have wrong' d thee, and as much of joy
That I repent it, issue from mine eyes :
Let them appease thee. Take thy right; take
her ; 15
^ thh. Th, W, B, the.
4 gentleman, Th, W, D, B. Qq, F, gentlemen.
SCENE V.]
She is thy right too ; and forget to urge
My vexed soule with that I did before.
Phi/aster. Sir, it is blotted from my memory,
Past and forgotten. — For you, prince of Spain,
Whom I have thus redeemed, you have full
leave *°
To make an honourable voyage home.
And if you would goe furnish'd to your realme
With fair provision, I do see a lady,
Me thinkes, would gladly beare you company :
How like you this peece ?
Megra. Sir, he likes it well, »5
For he hath tryed it, and hath found it worth
His princely liking. We were tane a-bed;
I know your meaning. I am not the first
That nature taught to seeke a fellow forth ;
Can shame remain perpetually in me, 30
And not in others ? or have princes salves
To cure ill names, that meaner people want ?
Phi. What meane you ?
Meg. You must get another ship,
To beare the princesse and her boy together.
Dion. How now ! 35
Meg. Others tooke me, and I tooke her and
him
1 8 it is. F, is it. 26 hath found. Q3~F omit hatb.
28 know. Q5a, knew.
34 beare. Q6, F, clear. her. Q3-F, the.
306 Pt)ila0ter [ACT v.
At that all women may be tane sometime :
Ship us all foure, my lord ; we can indure
Weather and winde alike.
King. Cleere thou thy selfe, or know not me
for father. 40
Arethusa. This earth, how false it is ! What
means is left for me
To cleere my self ? It lies in your beleefe :
My lords, beleeve me ; and let all things else
Struggle together to dishonour me.
Bellario. O, stop your eares, great King, that
I may speake 45
As freedome would ! Then I will call this lady
As base as are her actions : heare me, sir ;
Beleeve your heated bloud when it rebels
Against your reason, sooner then this lady.
Meg. By this good light, he beares it han-
somely. 50
Phi. This lady ! I will sooner trust the wind
With feathers, or the troubled sea with pearle,
Then her with any thing. Beleeve her not.
Why, thinke you, if I did beleeve her words,
I would outlive em ? Honour cannot take 55
37 sometime. Q6, F, sometimes.
39 winde. Q4*34, wine.
41 This earth. Qz prints as a separate line.
47 are. £3 omits ; Q4~F, be.
48 your. F, hour. heated. Q3~F, hated.
59 sadly. B (qy.), hardly.
SCENE V.]
Revenge on you ; then what were to be knowne
But death ?
King. Forget her, sir, since all is knit
Betweene us. But I must request of you
One favour, and will sadly be denyed.
Phi. Command, what ere it be.
King. Sweare to be true 60
To what you j>romise.
Phi. By the powers above,
Let it not be the death of her or him,
And it is granted !
King. Beare away thatj>oy
TV torture : I will have her cleerd or buried.
Phi. O, let me call my word backe, worthy sir! 65
Aske something else ; bury my life and right
In one poore grave ; but doe not take away
My life and fame at once.
King. Away with him ! It stands irrevocable.
Phi. Turne all your eyes on me ! Heere
stands a man, 7°
The falsest and the basest of this world.
Set swords against this breast, some honest man,
For I have livd till I am pittied !
My former deedes were hateful ; but this last
Is pittifull, for I unwillingly 75
Have given the deere preserver of my life
60-6 1 Sweare . . . promise. Qz-F as one line.
63 that. F, the. 65 word. Q4-F, words.
74 ivcrt. Q6, F, are.
308 pilaster [ACT v.
Unto his torture. Is it in the power
Of flesh and bloud to carry this, and live ?
Offers to kill himself e.
Are. Dear sir, be patient yet ! Oh, stay that
hand!
King. Sirs, strip that boy.
Dion. Come, sir ; your tender flesh 80
Will try your constancie.
Bell. O, kill me, gentlemen !
Dion. No. — Helpe, sirs.
Bell. Will you torture me.
King. Hast there ;
Why stay you ?
Bell. Then I shall not breake my vow,
You know, just gods, though I discover all.
King. Hows that ? will he confesse ?
Dion. Sir, so he sayes. 85
King. Speake then.
Bell. Great King, if you command
This lord to talke with me alone, my tongue,
Urg'd by my heart, shall utter all the thoughts
My youth hath knownej and stranger things
then these
You heare not often.
King. Walk aside with him. 90
[Dion and Be liar io walk apart. ,]
79 Oh. Q4-F, or. 80 Sirs. Q5a, sir.
80-8 1 Come . . . constancy. Verse-division of W, D. Qq, F,
one line. 8 1 try. Qi, tire.
82-83 H°st • • • y°u' Q2~F> as one I"16-
SCENE V.] ^ll&tittt 309
Dion. Why speak' st thou not ?
Bell. Know you this face, my lord ?
Dion. No.
Bell. Have you not scene it, nor the like ?
Dion. Yes, I have seen the like, but readily
,1 know not where.
Bell. I have bin often told
In court of one Euphrasia, a lady, 95
And daughter to you ; betwixt whom and me
(They that would flatter my bad face would
sweare)
There was such strange resemblance, that we
two
Could not be knowne asunder, drest alike.
Dion. By heaven, and so there is !
Bell. For her fair sake, 100
Who now doth spend the spring time of her life
In holy pilgrimage, move to the King,
That I may scape this torture.
Dion. But thou speak' st
As like Euphrasia as thou dost looke.
How came it to thy knowledge that she lives 105
In pilgrimage ?
Bell. I know it not, my lord ;
But I have heard it, and doe scarce beleeve it.
Dion. Oh, my shame ! is't possible ? Draw
neere,
106 it. Q$a omits. 108 is V. Th, W, D, is it.
3io
That I may gaze upon thee. Art thou she,
Or else her murderer? where wert thou born ? no
Bell. In Siracusa.
Dion. What's thy name ?
Bell. Euphrasia.
Dion. O, tis just, tis she !
Now I doe know thee. Oh, that thou hadst
dyed,
And I had never scene thee nor my shame !
How shall I owne thee ? shall this tongue of mine 115
Ere call thee daughter more ?
Bell. Would I had died indeed ! I wish it too :
And so I must have done by vow, ere publishd
What I have told, but that there was no meanes
To hide it longer. Yet I joy in this, I2°
The princesse is all cleere.
King. What, have you done ?
Dion. Alls discovered.
Ptii. " — Why then hold you me?
All is discovered ! Pray you, let me go.
He offers to stab himself e.
King. Stay him.
Are. What is discovered ?
Dion. Why, my shame.
It is a woman : let her speake the rest. 125
118 /. Qz, Q3, omit. 122 Alls. Q6, F, D, B, All is.
123 All . . . go. Q4'39-F assign this and consequently the
marginal stage-direction to " Dion."
SCENE v.] pilaster 311
Phi. How ? that againe !
Dion. It is a woman.
Phi. Blest be you powers that favour inno-
cence !
King. Lay hold upon that lady.
[Megra is seized."]
Phi. It is a woman, sir ! — Harke, gentle-
men,
It is a woman ! — Arethusa, take 13°
My soule into thy brest, that would be gone
With joy. It is a woman ! Thou art faire,
And vertuous still to ages, in despight
Of malice.
King. Speake you, where lies his shame ?
Bell. I am his daughter. 135
Phi. The gods are just.
Dion. I dare accuse none ; but, before you two,
The vertue of our age, I bend my knee
For mercy. [Kneels.]
Phi. [raising him] . Take it freely ; for I
know,
Though what thou didst were undiscreetely
done, 140
Twas meant well.
Are. And for me,
I have a power to pardon sins, as oft
As any man has power to wrong me.
134 Of malice. Qq, F, include in preceding line.
312
Cle. Noble and worthy !
Phi. But, Bellario,
(For I must call thee still so,) tell me why 145
Thou didst conceale thy sex. It was a fault,
A fault, Bellario, though thy other deeds
Of truth outwaigh'd it. All these jealousies
Had flowne to nothing, if thou hadst discovered
What now we know.
Bell. My father oft would speake 150
Your worth and vertue ; and, as I did grow
More and more apprehensive, I did thirst
To see the man so [p] rais'd. But yet all this
Was but a mayden longing, to be lost
As soon as found j till, sitting in my window, 155
Printing my thoughts in lawne, I saw a god,
I thought, (but it was you,) enter our gates :
My bloud flue out and backe againe, as fast
As I had puft it forth and suck't it in
Like breath : then was I calPd away in hast 160
To enterteine you. Never was a man,
Heav'd from a sheep-coat to a scepter, rais'd
So high in thoughts as I : you left a kisse
Upon these lippes then, which I meane to keepe
From you for ever : I did heare you talke, 165
Farre above singing. After you were gone,
I grew acquainted with my heart, and search'd
150 oft -would. Q5-F, would oft.
153 praiid. Edd. 1711. Qq, F, rais'd.
SCENE V.] $\)i\&$ttt 313
What stir'd it so : alas, I found it love !
Yet farre from lust ; for, could I but have hVd
In presence of you, I had had my end. 170
For this I did delude my noble father
With a feign'd pilgrimage, and drest my selfe
In habit of a boy ; and, for I knew
My birth no match for you, I was past hope
Of having you ; and understanding well
That when I made discovery of my sex
I could riot stay with yoiuj^ made a v<
'By all themost religt6Tis_things_a_inaid^
^ouXd call^iogedielvnever to be knowne,
Whilst there was hope to hide me from mens eyes, 180
For other than I seem'd, that I might ever
Abide with you. Then sate I by the fount,
Where first you took me up.
King. Search out a match
Within our kingdome, where and when thou
wilt,
And I will pay thy dowry ; and thy selfe 185
Wilt well deserve him.
Bell. Never, sir, will I
Marry ; it is a thing within my vow.
But, if I may have leave to serve the princesse,
To see the vertues of her lord and her,
I shall have hope to live.
Are. I, Philaster, 190
169 but have. Q 6, F, have but. 184 thouivilt. Q5a omits.
Cannot be jealous, though you had a lady
Drest like a page to serve you ; nor will I
Suspect her living here. — Come, live with me;
Live free as I doe. She that loves my lord,
Curst be the wife that hates her ! 195
Phi. I grieve such vertue should be laid in
earth
Without an heire. — Hear me, my royall father :
Wrong not the freedome of our soules so much,
To thinke to take revenge of that base woman ;
Her malice cannot hurt us. Set her free aoo
As she was borne, saving from shame and sinne.
King. Set her at liberty. — But leave the
court ;
This is no place for such. — You, Pharamond,
Shall have free passage, and a conduct home
Worthy so great a prince. When you come
there, 405
Remember twas your faults that lost you her.
And not my purposed will.
Pbaramond. I do confess,
Renowned sir.
King. Last, joyne your hands in one. En-
joy, Philaster,
This kingdome, which is yours, and, after me, zio
What ever I call mine. My blessing on you !
All happy houres be at your marriage joyes,
196 venue. F, virtues. 200 her. £53, ua.
SCENE V.] pfjtlatfttft 315
That you may grow your selves over all lands,
And live to see your plenteous branches spring
Wherever there is sunne ! Let princes learn \
By this to rule the passions of their blood ;
For what heaven wills can never be withstood
Exeunt omnes.
213 your selves. Q5a, your self.
214 live. Qa-Q4, like.
FINIS.
to
For the meaning of single 'words see the Glossary.
DATE. In the Scourge of Folly by John Davies of Hereford, en-
tered S. R. Oct. 8, 1 6 10, occurs an epigram addressed to Fletcher,
the first words of which, "Love lies ableeding," refer to the second
title of Philaster. The play must, then, have been written and acted
before Oct. 8, 1610 ; and the date generally suggested for its first
presentation, 1608, seems a plausible conjecture.
STAGE HISTORY. Philaster was first acted by the King's Men at
either the Globe or the Blackfriars theatre, and while Shakespeare
was still writing for that company. It was acted at court 1612-13,
and was popular until the closing of the theatres in 1642. A droll,
the Club Men, based on Act v, Scene 4, was performed at the
Red Bull during the suppression of the theatres ; and the play was
revived immediately after the Restoration. Pepys saw it in 1661
and again in 1668, when Hart was playing Philaster, and Nell
Gwynne, Bellario. It was also played in Lincolns-Inn-Fields when
the women acted alone, perhaps in 1664. In I^95> Philaster,
" Revis'd and the Two last Acts new Written," by Elkanah Settle,
was produced at the Theatre Royal ; and another alteration appeared
in the works of George Villiers, Duke of Buckingham, 1714, en-
titled the Restauration. As Dyce remarks, it was probably not
written by the Duke, and never acted. In 1711, when Philaster
was revived at Drury Lane, it had not been acted there for eleven
years ; and after 1715 it was apparently not acted until 1763, when
it was revived with considerable alterations by the elder Colman.
Powell made his first appearance at this performance, and the play
scored a success. Colman's revision was printed in his Works,
1777, and was acted off and on until the end of the century.
RESEMBLANCES TO CYMBELINE. The resemblances between
Philaster and Cymbeline have been frequently noted and discussed. I
Some parallel passages may be instanced : the first sixty lines of
each play; Arethusa's speech, ni, 2, 162—166, and Imogen's,
in, 4, 60-66 ; Leonatus' soliloquy, n, 5, 8ff, and Philaster's, in,
2, 105-128 j Philaster's speech after he has been hurt by the
I Especially in Leonhardt's Ueber Bexiehungen von . . . Philaster,
Hamlet, und Cymbeline, Anglia, vol. 8, and The Influence of Beaumont
and Fletcher on Shaksfere, by the present editor, chap. 9.
to Blaster 317
country fellow, iv, 3, 105—110, and lachimo's after he has been
overcome by Leonatus, v, 2, I— 6 ; also the quibbles on strange and
stranger, Philaster y i, I, 93-97, and Cymbeline, n, I. The resem-
blances, however, are not so much in parallel passages as in situations
and characters. The relations and experiences of Leonatus and
Imogen are similar to those of Philaster and Arethusa ; while as a
page and in the country scenes Imogen resembles Bellario. In each
play the king's attempt to marry the heiress of the crown to an
unworthy braggart results in the estrangement of the true lovers and
the slander of the heroine, but tragedy is eventually averted by the
confession of the slanderer and a general forgiveness. In both plays,
an idyllic element is contrasted with the tragic and centres about a
maiden disguised as a page who suffers privations and who constantly
appeals to our sympathies through the utter devotion and ideal
tenderness of her character. The two kings are similar in character
and actions and Cloten and Pharamond are both brutish braggarts, and
each serves to supply the comic element of the play. So noticeable
are these similarities and the general resemblance of the plays in
material and construction that it seems likely that one play owes
something to the other. The probability of direct indebtedness is
increased by the fact that the two plays were acted within a year or
two of each other and by the same theatrical company. It is not
possible to determine with certainty which play was the earlier, and
the question of which author was the borrower rests on considera-
tions too complex to be treated here. To the present editor, it
seems probable that Philaster was the earlier, that in its essential
traits it was an innovation, a new type of play, and that its success
had an important influence on Shakespeare's choice and treatment
of material in Cymbeline.
Actus I ... Actus Quintus. Here follow the opening of
Act i, Scene i (corresponding to 11. 1—121 of the text) and the last
scene of Act v, as they appear in Qi. They are printed line for
line and literatim.
Actus I. Scoen. I.
Enter at seuerall doores Lord Lyon, Trasiline, followcs him,
Clerimon meetes them.
TRASILINE.
Well ore tane my Lord.
318 jpotes to
LYON. Noble friend welcome, and see who encoun-
ters us, honourable good Clerimon.
CLE. My good Lord Lyon, most happily met wor-
thy Trasiline,
Come gallants, what's the newes,
the season affoords us variety,
the nouilsts of our time runnes on heapes,
to glut their itching eares with airie sounds,
trotting to'th burse ; and in the Temple walke
with greater zeale to heare a nouall lye,
than pyous Anthum tho chanted by Cherubins.
TRAUS. True Sir :
and holds set counsels, to vent their braine sicke opinions
with presagements what all states shall designe.
CLE. Thats as their intelligence serues.
LYON. And that shall serue as long as inuention lastes,
there dreams they relate, as spoke from Oracles,
or if the gods should hold a synod, and make them their secritaries,
they will diuine and prophecie too : but come and speake your thoughts
of the intended marriage with the Spanish Prince,
He is come you see, and brauely entertainde.
TRAS. Hee is so, but not married yet.
CLE. But like to be, and shall have in dowry with the Princesse
this Kingdome of Cycele.
LEON. Soft and faire, there is more will forbid the baines, then
say amen to the marriage : though the King vsurped the Kingdome
during the non-age of the Prince PAy/aster, hee must not thinke to
bereaue him of it quite ; hee is now come to yeares to claime the
Crowne.
TRA. And lose his head i* the asking.
LEON. A diadem worn by a headlesse King wold be wonderous,
Phylaster is too weake in power.
CLE. He hath many friends.
LEON. And few helpers.
TRA. The people loue him.
LEON. I grant it, that the King knowes too well,
And makis this Contract to make his faction strong :
Whats a giddy-headed multitude,
That's not Disciplinde nor trainde up in Armes,
to p&ila0trr 3 1 9
To be trusted vnto ? No, he that will
Bandy for a Monarchic, must prouide
Brave marshall troopes with resolution armde,
To stand the shock of bloudy doubtful warre,
Nor danted though disastrous Fate doth frowne,
And spit all spightfull fury in their face :
Defying horror in her ugliest forme,
And growes more valiant, the more danger threats 5
Or let leane famine her affliction send,
Whose pining plagues a second hel doth bring,
Thei'le hold their courage in her height of spleene,
Till valour win plenty to supply them,
What thinke ye, would yer feast-hunting Citizens
Indure this ?
TRA. No sir, a faire march a mile out of town that their wiues may
bring them their dinners, is the hottest seruice that they are trained
vp to.
CLE. I could wish their experience answered their loues,
Then should the much too much wrongd Phylaster,
Possesse his right in spight of Don and the diuell.
TRA. My heart is with your wishes.
LEON. And so is mine,
And so should all that loues their true borne Prince,
Then let vs ioyne our Forces with our mindes,
In whats our power to right this wronged Lord,
And watch aduantage as best may fit the time
To stir the murmuring people vp,
Who is already possest with his wrongs,
And easily would in rebellion rise,
Which full well the King doth both know and feare,
But first our seruice wee'le proffer to the Prince,
And set our projects as he accepts of vs ;
But husht, the King is comming. sound musicke 'within.
Enter the King, Pharamont, the Princesse, the Lady Gallatea, the
Lady Megra, a Gentlewoman, 'with Lords attending, the King
takes his seate.
KING. Faire Prince,
Since heauens great guider furthers our intents,
320 jpotea to Blaster
And brought you with safety here to arriue
Within our Kingdome and Court of Cycele,
We bid you most welcome, Princely Pharamontj
And that our Kingly bounty shall confirme,
Euen whilst the Heauens hold so propitious aspect
Wee'le crowne your wisht desires (with our owne)
Lend me your hand sweet Prince, hereby enioy
A full fruition of your best contents,
The interest I hold I doe possesse you with,
Onely a fathers care, and prayers retaine,
That heauen may heape on blessings, take her Prince,
Actus V. Scoen V.
Enter an olde Captaine, 'with a crew of Citizens, leading PHAR-
AMONT prisoner.
CAP. Come my braue Mermedons, fal on, let your caps swarm,
& your nimble tongues forget your gibrish, of what you lack, and
set your mouthes ope' children, till your pallats fall frighted halfe a
fathom past the cure of baysalt & grosse pepper j and then crie Phy-
laster, braue Phylaster, Let Pbylaster be deep in request, my
ding-a-dings, my paire of deare Indentures : King of clubs, the
your cut -water-chamlets, and your painting : let not your hasty
silkes deerly belouers of Custards & Cheescakes, or your branch
cloth of bodkins, or your tyffenies, your robbin-hood scarlet and
lohns, tie your affections in durance to your shops, my dainty duck-
ers, vp with your three pil'd spirits, that rightvalourous, and let your
accute colours make the King to feele the measure of your might-
inesse ; Phylaster , cry, myrose nobles, cry.
OMNES. Phylaster, Phylaster.
CAP. How doe you like this, my Lord prisoner ?
TJiese are mad boyes I can tell you,
These bee things that will not strike top-sayle to a Foyst.
And let a Man of warre, an Argosea,
Stoope to carry coales.
PHAR. Why, you damn'd slaues, doe you know who I am ?
CAP. Yes, my pretie Prince of puppits, we do know, and giue
you gentle warning, you talke no more such bugs words, left that
to J^ljtteter 321
sodden Crowne should be scracht with a musket ; deare Prince pip-
pin, I'le haue you codled, let him loose my spirits, and make a ring
with your bils my hearts : Now let mee see what this braue man
dares doe : note sir, haue at you with this washing blow, here I lie,
doe you huffe sweete Prince ? I could hock your grace, and hang
you crosse leg'd like a Hare at a Poulters stall ; and do thus.
PHAR. Gentlemen, honest Gentlemen —
1 SOVL. A speakes treason Captaine, shal's knock him
downe ?
CAP. Hold, I say.
2 SOVL. Good Captaine let me haue one mal at's mazard, I
feele my stomacke strangely prouoked to bee at his Spanish pot-
no wle, shal's kill him ?
OMNES. I, kill him, kill him.
CAP. Againe I say hold.
3 SOVL. O how ranke he lookes, sweete Captaine let's geld him,
and send his dowsets for a dish to the Burdello.
4 SOVL. No, let's rather sell them to some woman Chymist,
that extractions, shee might draw an excellent prouocatiue oyle from
vseth l them, that might be very vsefull.
CAP. You see, my scuruy Don, how precious you are in es-
teem amongst vs, had you not beene better kept at home, I thinke
you had : must you needes come amongst vs, to haue your saffron
hide taw'd as wee intend it : My Don, Phylaster must suffer death
to satisfie your melancholly spleene, he must my Don, he must;
but we your Physitians, hold it fit that you bleede for it : Come my
robusticks, my braue regiment of rattle makers, let's cala common
cornuted counsell, and like graue Senators, beare vp our brancht
crests, in sitting vpon the seuerall tortures we shall put him to, and
with as little sense as may be, put your wils in execution.
SOME CRIES. Burne him, burne him.
OTHERS. Hang him, hang him. Enter PHYLASTER.
CAP. No, rather let's carbinade his cods-head, and cut him to
collops : shall I begin ?
PHI. Stay your furies my louing Countrimen.
OMNES. Phylaster is come, Phylaster, Phylaster.
I vteih, i. e., useth to make, should evidently come before extractions
in the preceding line.
322 j£ote0 to
CAP. My porcupines of spite, make roome I say, that I may
salute my braue Prince : and is Prince Phylaster at liberty ?
PHI. I am, most louing countrimen.
CAP. Then giue me thy Princely goll, which thus I kisse, to
whom I crouch and bow ; But see my royall sparke, this head-
strong swarme that follow me humming like a master Bee, haue I
led forth their Hiues, and being on wing, and in our heady flight,
haue seazed him shall suffer for thy wrongs.
OMNES. I, I, let's kill him, kill him.
PHI. But heare me, Countrimen.
CAP. Heare the Prince, I say, heare Phylaster.
OMNES. I, I, heare the Prince, heare the Prince.
PHI. My comming is to giue you thanks, my deere Countri-
men, whose powerfull sway hath curb'd the prossecuting fury of
my foes.
OMNES. We will curb vm, we will curb vm.
PHI. I finde you will,
But if my intrest in your loues be such,
As the world takes notice of, Let me craue
You would deliuer Pharamont to my hand,
And from me accept this Giues vm his purse.
Testimonie of my loue.
Which is but a pittance of those ample thankes,
Which shall redowne with showred courtesies.
CAP. Take him to thee braue Prince, and we thy bounty
thankefully accept, and will drinke thy health, thy perpetuall health
my Prince, whilst memory lasts amongst vs, we are thy Mermidons,
my Achillh : we are those will follow thee, and in thy seruice will
scowre our rusty murins and our billbow-blades, most noble Phylas-
ter, we will : Come my rowtists let's retyer till occasion calls vs to
attend the noble Phylaster.
OMNES. Phylaster, Phylaster, Phylaster.
Exit CAPTAINE, and Citizens.
PHAR. Worthy sir, I owe you a life,
For but your selfe theres nought could haue preuail'd.
PHI. Tis the least of seruice that I owe the King,
Who was carefull to preserue ye.
to pilaster 323
Enter LEON, TRASILINE, and CLERIMON.
TRA. I euer thought the boy was honest.
LEON. Well, tis a braue boy Gentlemen.
CLE. Yet you 'Id not beleeue this.
LEON. A plague on my forwardnesse, what a villaine was I, to
wrong vm so ; a mischiefe on my muddy braines, was I mad ?
TRA. A little frantick in your rash attempt, but that was your
love to Phylaster, sir.
LEON. A pox on such loue, haue you any hope my counti-
nance will ere serue me to looke on them ?
CLE. O very well Sir.
LEON. Very ill Sir, vds death, I could beate out my braines, or
hang my selfe in reuenge.
CLE. There would be little gotten by it, ene keepe you as ye are.
LEON. An excellent boy, Gentlemen beleeue it, harke the King
is comming. Cornets sounds.
Enter the King, Princesse, GALLATEA, MEGRA, BELLARIO, a Gen-
tleivoman, and other attendants.
K. No newes of his returne,
Will not this rable multitude be appeas'd ?
I feare their outrage, lest it should extend
With dangering of Pharamonts life.
Enter PHILASTER with PHARAMONT.
LEON. See Sir, Phylaster is return' d.
PHI. Royall Sir,
Receiue into your bosome your desired peace,
Those discontented mutineaeres be appeasde,
And this fortaigne Prince in safety.
K. How happie I am in thee Pbylaster ?
Whose excellent vertues begets a world of loue,
I am indebted to thee for a Kingdome.
I here surrender vp all Soueraignetie.
Raigne peacefully with thy espoused Bride, Delivers his Croiunt
Ashume my Son to take what is thy due. to him.
PHA. How Sir, yer son, what am I then, your Daughter you
gave to me.
KIN. But heauen hath made asignement vnto him,
324 jpotes to
And brought your contract to anullity :
Sir, your entertainment hath beene most faire,
Had not your hell-bred lust dride vp the spring,
From whence flow'd forth those fauours that you found :
I am glad to see you safe, let this suffice,
Your selfe hath crost your selfe.
LEON. They are married sir.
PHAR. How married? I hope your highnesse will not vse me so,
I came not to be disgraced, and returne alone.
KING. I cannot helpe it sir.
LEON. To returne alone, you neede not sir,
Here is one will beare you company.
You know this Ladies proofe, if you
Fail'd not in the say-taging.1
ME. I hold your scoffes in vildest base contempt,
Or is there said or done, ought I repent,
But can retort euen to your grinning teeths,
Your worst of spights, tho Princesse lofty steps
May not be tract, yet may they tread awry,
That boy there
BEL. If to me ye speake Lady,
I must tell you, youhaue lost your selfe
In your too much forwardnesse, and hath forgot
Both modesty and truth, with what impudence
You haue throwne most damnable aspertions
On that noble Princesse and my selfe : witnesse the world ;
Beholde me sir. Kneeles to LEON and discouers her haire.
LEON. I should know this face ; my daughter
BEL. The same sir.
PRIN. How, our sometime Page, BeHario, turn'd woman ?
BEL. Madame, the cause indue' t me to transforme my selfe,
Proceeded from a respectiue modest
Affection I bare to my my Lord,
The Prince Phylaster, to do him seruice,
As farre from any laciuious thought,
As that Lady is farre from go odnesse,
And if my true intents may be beleeued,
I say-taging. Misprint for say-taking, taking the assay.
to poster 325
And from your Highnesse Madame, pardon finde,
You haue die truth.
PRIN. I doe beleeue thee, Bellario I shall call thee still.
PHI. The faithfullest seruant that euer gaue attendance.
LEON. Now Lady lust, what say you to'th boy now j
Doe you hang the head, do ye, shame would steale
Into your face, if ye had grace to entertaine it,
Do ye slinke away ? Exit MEGRA hiding her face.
KING. Giue present order she be banisht the Court,
And straightly confinde till our further
Pleasure is knowne.
PHAR. Heres such an age of transformation, that I doe not know
how to trust my selfe, I'le get me gone to : Sir, the disparage-
ment you haue done, must be cald in question. I haue power to
right my selfe, and will. Exit PHARAMONT.
KING. We feare ye not Sir.
PHI. Let a strong conuoy guard him through the Kingdome,
With him, let's part with all our cares and feare,
And Crowne with ioy our happy loues successe.
KING. Which to make more full, Lady Gallatea
Let honour' d Clcrimont acceptance finde
In your chast thoughts.
PHI. Tis my sute too.
PRIN. Such royall spokes-men must not be deni'd.
GAL. Nor shall not, Madame.
KING. Then thus I ioyne your hands.
GAL. Our hearts were knit before. They kisse.
PHI. But tis you Lady, must make all compleat,
And giues a full perod to content,
Let your loues cordiall againe reuiue,
The drooping spirits of noble Trasi/ine.
What saies Lord Leon to it ?
LEON. Marry my Lord I say, I know she once lou'd him.
At least made shew she did,
But since tis my Lord Phylasters desire,
I'le make a surrender of all the right
A father has in her ; here take her Sir,
With all my heart, and heauen give you ioy.
326 $ot*0 to Blaster
KING. Then let vs in these nuptuall feastes to hold,
Heauen hath decreed, and Fate stands vncontrold.
FINIS.
159. Enter Galatea, a Lady, and Megra. The
transposition of Lady and Megra in the entry and in the speeches
which follow is rendered necessary by Dion's description of " the
first," " the second," and " the last " of the entering ladies, and
by our subsequent knowledge of Megra's character. This Lady
seems to be the ' ' old Wanton Lady, or Croane ' ' in the Dramatis
Personae of (£3. There is no corresponding character in the Dra-
matis Personae of Qi ; the " waiting Gentlewoman " of Qi corre-
sponding to " Another Lady attending the Princesse " of £3.
162, in. discourse and knowledge. "Where dis-
course is coupled with a word expressive of a faculty of the mind —
as thought, reason^ judgment, etc. — it is to be considered as merely
expletive ; chameleon-like taking the colour of the word to which
it is attached." Daniel (B).
168, 215. lookes like a tooth-drawer. Ray in his
Proverbs (p. 65, ed. 1768) defines this as looking " very thin and
meagre. ' '
169, 238-39. him That made the world his. Alex-
ander the Great.
170, 252. a patterne Of succession. A pattern to suc-
ceeding kings.
170, 258. a prince of wax. Perfect, as if modelled in wax.
Cf. the Nurse's description of Paris, " a man of wax " in Romeo
and Juliet^ i, iii, 76. Galatea's reply, A dog it is, refers to a cant
phrase, ** a dog of wax," found in Jonson's Tale of a Tub, 11, ii, and
in Sir John Oldcastle, n, ii, and the Miseries of Enforced Mar-
riage, i, ii. The phrase has not been explained j here Galatea
intends to say that Pharamond is a nonentity.
170, 263. and now nought but hopes and feares.
And, to supply my wants, now nought but hopes and fears. There
is, perhaps, some corruption here.
I7I» Z75- true tenant. Theobald read, true recreant; Mitford
to pilaster 327
suggested, true tyrant; Dyce noted "truant" of Qi, which had
also been conjectured by Seward ; but Dyce retained tenant, inter-
preting, "if he [shaking like a true tenant — like one who has
only temporary possession] give not back his crown." Daniel (B)
adopts "truant" of Qi, and adds that "the context might sug-
gest to a bold emendator — ' like one in a true tertian ,' or ' like as
in a true tertian.'' " Tenant seems no more objectionable than any
of the other readings.
*73> 3°6- hot at hand. Cf. Julius C<fsar, iv, ii, 23.
174, 323. I. This alteration of the text adopted by all editors
since Weber, was due to a conjecture by Mason. The meaning is :
" you would be courtiers to me if I could be induced not to hazard
the fortunes of your families by offending the king. ' '
*75> 337- Male-dragons. The old editions all capitalize
and hyphen. Male, i. e. masculine.
I93» 3- the reverend mother. The mother of the maids,
the woman in charge of the attendants of the princess.
195, 24-2,5. Thiswyer. Wire was much used in women's
head-dresses.
195, 29. no hand behind it. " No acknowledgement of
indebtedness." B.
197, 62. white mony. "A cant term for silver specie." D.
197, 66-67. camphier constitutions. " Camphor was
anciently classed among those articles of the materia medica which
were cold in an eminent degree." W.
205, 35. Thou disclaimst in me. Thou disclaim'st any
right in me to your service.
210, 42. had been better have. A common form of
expression. Daniel instances Othello, in, iii, 362. The reading
of Ql , had been better, is also not uncommon.
218, 187. nine worthies. Joshua, Judas Maccabaeus,
David, Alexander the Great, Hector, Julius Caesar, Charlemagne,
Godfrey of Bouillon, and King Arthur.
221,21. Against their nature. " Contrary to the nature
of the discordant multitude." Mason.
226, 115. di veils. Dyce thinks this may be a misprint caught
from the preceding line, and notes that in the Restauration
11 fiends " is substituted, and in Settle's alteration, " furies."
328 j£ote0 to
244,109. For bursting1. For fear of bursting.
244, 114. like scorpions. Bullen quotes the Theater of
Insects, 1658, scorpions " being laid to their own wounds they made,
they cure them, as is generally known. ' '
249, 27. sicke mans salve. An allusion to the Sicke
Man s Salve, a work by Thomas Becon, first printed in 1561, and
frequently alluded to by the dramatists. Another work, A Salve
for a Sickman, by William Perkins, was published in 1595.
249, 29. the helpe of an almanacke. Almanacs con-
tained directions for the proper times for blood-letting.
250, 38-39. that spoiles her coate. "The allusion is
to mullets, or stars, introduced into coats of arms, to distinguish the
younger branches of a family, which of course denote inferiority. ' '
Mason.
251, 12. hee forsooke the say, for paying ten shil-
lings. After the deer had been hunted down, it was customary
for the keeper to offer his knife to the man of first distinction in
the company in order that he might rip up the belly and thus take
"assay" of the fatness and quality of the game. Pharamond de-
clined the offer in order to escape the fee of ten shillings. For,
for fear of, as 244, 109.
252, 1 8. an old Sir Tristram. This hero of romance
was an especial patron of the chase.
253, Enter Philaster. Here, as Daniel notes, a new scene
should be marked 5 the division is that of Weber, followed by all
subsequent editors.
253, 40. Oh, that, etc. "This speech is beautifully imi-
tated from the opening of Juvenal's Sixth Satire." Dyce.
264, 54. Sirs. "Sir" was a term of address to women as
well as men. It is used again in v, ii, 39.
278, 129. I was SO. " I was, in a figurative sense, disguised;
the word is still applied in vulgar language to those who are dis-
ordered or deformed by drink." Dyce.
283, 39. Your life no price compar'd to mine.
Mason's emendation seems required for the sense : Philaster sup-
poses that Bellario and Arethusa have changed places with him j
the wrong has come to him from them j and their lives are of no
value compared with his ; what would they then have done ? Dyce
to pilaster 329
noted that Mason's change had been already made in the alteration
of the play called the Restauration.
285, 30- the firver of the Sirian starre. The heat
supposedly caused by the dog-star Sirius. Cf. the Maid's Tragedy,
note, 86, 55.
287, 56. saffron. Hymen appeared in saffron-colored robes
in the masques.
289, 109. Fearing. Fearing for.
292, 148-49. silkes only be worne before sore
eyes. Daniel quotes, "green sarcenet flaps for a sore eye."
Troi/us and Cressida, v, i, 36.
292, 149. false lights. Dyce quotes an illustrative passage
from Middleton's Michaelmas Term, i, i, where the woollen-draper
Quomodo addresses an assistant spirit named Falselight :
Go, make my coarse commodities look sleek ;
With subtle art beguile the honest eye ;
Be near to my trap-window, cunning Falselight.
292, 157. goatish Latine. Dyce quotes from Hermann!
Bulgaria: "The ranke savour of gates is applied to them that
will not come out of theyr baudy [i. e. foul, barbarous] fatyn."
293, 174-175. out of your walls. Outside of your shops.
296, 8. my ding-dongs. My hearties, my darlings.
296, 9. My paires of deere indentures, kings of
clubs. Allusions to the indentures by which the apprentices were
bound, and to clubs, their favorite weapons.
296, 10. cold water chamblets. Camlets, rich fabrics
of wool or silk with a wavy, watery appearance.
296,10-11. paintings, Spitted with copper. Painted
or colored cloths interstitched with copper.
296, ii. hasty silks. Silks and velvets were stiffened with
gum to make them look shiny, but in consequence the stuff wore
out quickly. See note, 301, 99-100.
296, 12. branch 'd cloth of bodkin. Embroidered cloth
of gold and silk.
296, 14. You Robin Hoods, Scarlets, and Johns.
The captain applies to his followers the names of the heroes of the
Robin Hood ballads.
296, 1 6. your three-piled spirits, your wrought
330 Jiotes to
valors. Three-piled was applied to the best velvet, and so meta-
phorically to the shop-keepers. Valors is used with a quibble on
" velure " or "valure," velvet.
296, 17. your uncut COllers. A quibble on collar and
choler.
296,19. my rose-nobles. Another pun.
297, 22-24. That •will not strike . . . and cry
cockles. That will not yield to an inferior vessel, and let a man
of war lie inactive and in base service. Foist is a small vessel, used,
perhaps, as Weber remarks, with application to Pharamond and
allusion to the Lord Mayor's gorgeous galley-foist. To cry cockles
here seems to mean, *' to engage in base traffic " ; and to be syn-
onymous with " to carry coales " of Qi. Dyce, however, notes
that according to Grose ( Class. Diet, of the Vulgar Tongue] cry
cockles means "to be hanged." If this is the meaning here, the
captain mixes his metaphors and refers to the interrupted* execution
of Philaster.
297, 28. SOlder'd crowne. Solder'd head ; but why solder d
is not clear. Ql has sodden.
297, 29. musket. A quibble on the double meaning (i) a
male sparrowhawk, (2) the weapon.
297> 36- hulke. Boas notes that " hulk, to take entrails out
of, is preferable to Aock, hough, or hamstring, which could scarcely
be used of a hare."
-298, 46. Oh for a whip to make him galloone-
laces ! O for a whip to tear him to ribbons ! The captain's rant
is more or less consistent in its metaphors. Having cut, embroid-
ered, and ravelled Pharamond, he would whip him until he was
mere ribbons of lace.
298, 50-51. seald up, With a feather through his
nose. Seeled (misspelt in the text) is a term in falconry. When
a hawk was first taken, a thread or small feather was run through
its eyelids, so that it could see little or nothing. Putting the feather
through the nose seems to have been a humorous amendment of
the captain's.
299, 55- Thou tender heire apparant to a church-
ale. In view of the character attributed to these convivial occa-
sions, this is equivalent to calling Pharamond a bastard, and a base
one at that.
to pilaster 331
299, 56. prince of single scarcenet. Daniel quotes " A
king of shreds and patches." Hamlet, m, iv, 102.
299, 66-67. lie ... gate. An allusion to Brasenose Col-
lege, Oxford.
300, 85. royall Rosicleere. Rosicleer and his brother Don-
zel de Phebo (mentioned in 1. 92), knight of the sun, are heroes
in the Spanish romance Donzel de Phebo, translated into English,
1583-1 602, under the title of the Mirrour of Knighthood, etc. The
Mirrour was a popular book and is frequently referred to by the early
dramatists. It is referred to in the Scornful Lady, iv, i, and is
constantly scoffed at and burlesqued in the Knight of the Burning
Pestle.
301, 99-100. the regarded scarlets Kiss theire
gum'd gols. The respected officers of state, clothed in scarlet,
kiss their perfumed hands. Golh is a vulgar term for hands, and
gummed seems to refer to the application of gum for perfume
or bleaching. Daniel thinks gummed is used in the sense of cor-
rupted, and quotes from the Woman Hater, iv, ii, " She 's a piece
of dainty stuff, my rogue ; smooth and soft as new satin ; she was
never gummed yet, boy, nor fretted," where the metaphorical use
of the word is quite different from its use in the present passage.
Cf. I Henry IV, n, ii, "I have removed FalstarT's horse, and he
frets like a gummed velvet ' ' 5 and hasty silks, v, iv, 1 1 , and
note for 296, 1 1 .
302, 124-25. He have a sursingle and make you
like a hawke. I '11 have a girth or band and train you like a
hawk. Make was a technical term in falconry meaning " to train,
to make obedient." " Mail" (F, male) was also a technical term
meaning "to pinion, to wrap in a cloth," but there seems no rea-
son for its adoption here by modern editors.
303, 142. your wives in muffes. One of the earliest
allusions in literature to muffs, then just coming into use.
307, 59. will sadly be denyed. Will be very sorry to be
denied.
310, no. Or else her murderer. "It was the received
opinion in some barbarous countries that the murderer was to in-
herit the qualities and shape of the person he destroyed." Mason.
The place of publication is London unless otherwise indicated.
The abbreviations to the left of the titles are those used in the
Textual Notes.
I. TEXTS
A. COLLECTIVE EDITIONS OF BEAUMONT AND
FLETCHER
1647. COMEDIES AND TRAGEDIES WRITTEN BY FRANCIS
BEAUMONT AND JOHN FLETCHER, GENTLEMEN. Never printed
before, And now published by the authours originall copies . . .
for Humphrey Robinson . . . and for Humphrey Moseley.
[This, the first Folio, contained neither the Maid"1 s Tragedy nor
PAi/aster, but all the plays, 34, and one Masque, not previously
printed except the Wild Goose Chase. ]
1679. (F. ) FIFTY COMEDIES AND TRAGEDIES. Written by
Francis Beaumont and John Fletcher, Gentlemen. All in one
volume. Published by the authors original copies, the songs to each
play being added ... for John Martyn, Henry Herringman,
Richard Marriot. [This, the second Folio, contains all the plays
of the first Folio, and eighteen others.]
I7II. 8°. THE WORKS OF BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER IN
SEVEN VOLUMES. Adorned with cuts ... for Jacob Tonson.
1750. 8°. (Th.) THE WORKS OF BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER.
Collated with all the former editions and corrected. With notes
critical and explanatory. By the late Mr. Theobald, Mr. Seward
. . . and Mr. Sympson. 10 vols.
1778. 8°. THE DRAMATICK WORKS OF BEAUMONT AND
FLETCHER . . . adorned with 54 original engravings. [Ed. by
George Colman.] 10 vols.
l8ll. 8°. THE DRAMATIC WORKS or BEN JONSON, AND
333
BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER. . . . The latter from the text and
with the notes of G. Colman. 4 vols.
l8l2. 8°. (W.) THE WORKS OF BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER
... by Henry Weber, Esq. Edinburgh. 14 vols.
1839. 8°. THE WORKS OF BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER. With
an introduction by George Darley. 2 vols. [Text is Weber's,
1812.]
1843-6. (D. ) 8°. THE WORKS OF BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER
. . . by the Rev. Alexander Dyce. 1 1 vols.
1852. 8°. THE WORKS OF BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER . . .
by the Rev. Alexander Dyce. Boston. 2 vols.
1866. 8°. THE WORKS OF BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER. With
an introduction by George Darley. A new edition. Routledge
and Sons. 2 vols.
1904-. (B.) THE WORKS OF FRANCIS BEAUMONT AND JOHN
FLETCHER. Variorum edition. [Ed. A. H. Bullen.] Vol. i con-
tains : The Maid's Tragedy, Philaster, — edited by P. A.
Daniel ; A King and No King, the Scornful Lady, the Custom
of the Country, — edited by R. Warwick Bond.
B. SELECTIONS
1768. 12°. SELECT PLAYS OF BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER.
Glasgow. 2 vols.
1808. 8°. BEAUMONT'S UNO FLETCHER'S DRAMATISCHE
WERKE herausgegeben von K. L. Kannegiesser. Berlin. 2 vols.
1808, 1813, etc. SPECIMENS OF ENGLISH DRAMATIC POETS,
who lived about the time of Shakespeare : with notes. By Charles
Lamb. [Contains selections from the Maid's Tragedy, Philaster,
and other plays of Folios.]
l8ll. 8°. THE MODERN BRITISH DRAMA. [Ed. by Sir Wal-
ter Scott.] 5 vols. [This contains the Maid's Tragedy, PAilaster,
and seven other plays from Folios.]
1819. SPECIMENS OF THE BRITISH POETS. . . . Thomas
Campbell. 7 vols. [Contains selections from the Maid's Tragedy,
Philaster, and other plays from Folios.]
1834. BEAUTIES OF BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER. By H. Guil-
ford. Birmingham.
334
l85S- BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER ; or, The finest scenes,
lyrics, and other beauties ... to the exclusion of whatever is
morally objectionable . . . with opinions of distinguished critics,
notes . . . and a general introductory preface. By Leigh Hunt.
1865. CONTEMPORAINS DE SHAKESPEARE. Beaumont Ct
Fletcher, traduits par Ernest Lafond. Paris. [This contains four
plays, but neither the Maid^s Tragedy nor PAi/aster.]
1887. THE BEST PLAYS OF THE OLD DRAMATISTS. Beau-
mont and Fletcher. Edited by J. St. Loe Strachey. 2 vols.
{Mermaid Series.} [Vol. I contains the Maid^s Tragedy, Philas-
ter, and three other plays.]
1887. THE PLAYS OF BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER (SELECTED).
Introduction by J. S. Fletcher. ( The Canterbury Poets. )
C. SEPARATE PLAYS
THE MAID'S TRAGEDY
1619. (Qi.) THE MAIDES TRAGEDY. As it hath beene
diuers times Acted at the Blacke-friers by the Kings Maiesties Ser-
uants. London Printed for Francis Constable and are to be sold
at the white Lyon ouer against the great North doore of Pauls
church. [Bodleian, Dyce, Boston Public Library.]
l622. (Q2-) THE MAIDS TRAGEDIE. As it hath beene
diuers times Acted at the Black-Friers by the Kings Maiesties Ser-
uants. Newly perused, augmented, and inlarged. This second im-
pression. London. Printed for Francis Constable, and are to be
sold at the White Lion in Pauls Church-yard. [Brit. Mus. 644.
d. 6, Bodl., Dyce, B. P. L.]
1630. (Q3-) THE MAIDS TRAGEDIE. Written by Francis
Beaumont and John Fletcher, Gentlemen. The Third Impression.
Reuised and Refined. ... for Richard Hawkins. [B. M.
1346. a. 7, Bodl., Dyce, B. P. L.]
1638. (Q4-) • • • THE MAIDES TRAGEDIE . . . The
fourth Impression ... for Henry Shepherd. [B. M. 644. d. 7,
Bodl., Dyce, University Library, Cambridge, Eng., Trinity Col-
lege, Cambridge, Eng.]
1641. (Q5-) THE MAIDS TRAGEDIE . . . The fifth Im-
pression ... for William Leake. [B. M. 644. d. 8, B. P. L.]
335
1650. (Q6.) THE MAIDS TRAGEDY . . . The sixth Im-
pression. Revised and Corrected exactly by the Original ... for
William Leake. [B. M. 644. d. 9, B. P. L.]
[These six quartos all have a wood-cut on the title-page.]
l66l. (Q.7-) THE MAIDS TRAGEDY. Sixth Impression.
[In place of the publisher's name this has only] Printed in the Year
1661. [B. M. 644. d. 10, Bodl., Dyce, Harv. Coll. Lib.]
1686. 4°. THE MAIDS TRAGEDY. As it hath been acted at
the Theatre Royal.
1704. 4°. THE MAIDS TRAGEDY.
1717. 4°. THE MAID'S TRAGEDY.
1881-84. THE MAID'S TRAGEDY. No. 1 8 of The English
Library, Zurich.
PHILASTER
l62O. (Qi.) PHYLASTER. OR, LOVE LYES A BLEEDING. Acted
at the Globe by his Maiesties Seruants. Written by Francis Bay-
mont and John Fletcher Gent. Printed at London for Thomas
Walkley, and are to be sold at his shop at the Eagle and Child.
[Wood-cut on title-page. B. M. (C. 34. f. 31,) Bodl., Dyce.]
1622. (Q2.) PHILASTER . . . The Second Impression, cor-
rected and amended. [B. M. (C. 34. c. 4.) Bodl., Dyce.]
1628. (Q3-) PHILASTER . . . The Third Impression . . .
for Richard Hawkins. [B. M. 1346. a. 6. Bodl., Dyce.]
1634. (Q4, *34«) PHILASTER . . . The Fourth Impression.
[B. M. 644. d. 19. Dyce B. P. L.]
- (Q4>'39-) PHILASTER . . . The Fourth Impression
r William Leake. [B. M. 644. d. 20. Bodl., T. C. C.,
B. P. L.]
1652. (£>5a.) PHILASTER . . . The Fifth Impression. [Or-
nament, two rows of small fleur-de-lis. B. P. L. , H. C. L.]
1652. (£>5b.) PHILASTER . . . The Fifth Impression. [But
distinct from ^53, and having for ornament a crown. On back
of title-page, it has a list of books sold by Leake. B. P. L.]
1663 ?(Q6.) PHILASTER . . . The Sixth Impression. [Not
dated, but list of books "lately come forth" fixes the date as
1663. B. M. 643. g. 23. Bodl., B. P. L.]
1(687. 4°- PHILASTER.
336
1717. 4°. PHILASTER.
1870. PHILASTER. In the Works of the British Dramatists,
etc. ByJ. S. Keltic.
1892. PHILASTER. Expurgated. In the Best Elizabethan
Plays. Ed. by W. R. Thayer. Boston.
1898. PHILASTER. Ed. Frederick S. Boas. The Temple Dra-
ft. ADAPTATIONS, ALTERATIONS, AND TRANS-
LATIONS
THE MAID'S TRAGEDY
1672. THE TESTY LORD. In the Wits, or, Sport upon Sport.
[A droll based on Calianax scene in the Maid's Tragedy.]
1690. THE SECOND PART OF MR. WALLER'S POEMS. This
contains a new fifth act of the Maid's Tragedy.
1690. THE MAID'S TRAGEDY [i. e. its fifth act] altered.
With some other pieces. By Edmund Waller, Esq. [A different
version from the preceding.]
1746. LA PUCELLE. Tragedie en un acte par Fletcher. Le
Theatre Anglais. Vol. 4.
1765. DIE BRAUT, eine tragodie. Translated into German
prose by H. W. von Gerstenberg. Kopenhagen und Leipzig.
[ ? ] THE BRIDAL. A tragedy in five acts, adapted for repre-
sentation (with three original scenes, written by James Sheridan
Knowles, Esq. ) from The Maid's Tragedy of Beaumont and
Fletcher. As performed by Mr. Macready. New York. Wil-
liam Taylor & Co. [Not dated.]
[The Bridal is also in vol. 6 of the Modern Standard Drama.
New York. Samuel French. Not dated.]
PHILASTER
1695. PHILASTER. Revised and the two last acts new written
by E. Settle.
1714. THE RESTAURATION: OR, RIGHT WILL TAKE PLACE. By
George Villiers, late Duke of Buckingham. [In the Works of
337
George Villiers ,• also see editions, 1754, 1775. An alteration of
Philaster.]
1763. PHILASTER. With alterations [and prologue by G.
Colman.]
1764. PHILASTER. With alterations [by G. Colman]. Second
edition.
I777> PHILASTER. A tragedy. With alterations. [In Dramatic
Works of G. Colman, vol. 3.]
1780. PHILASTER. Altered ... [by G. Colman.]
1791. PHILASTER. A tragedy. As altered . . . Adapted for
theatrical representation. [In Bellas British Theatre , vol. 18.]
[?] PHILASTER. ODER DIE LIEBE BLUTET. Deutsch von Adolf
Seubert. n. d. Leipzig. Universal-Bibliothek, band 1169.
II. WORKS BIOGRAPHICAL AND
CRITICAL
Besides monographs and essays devoted especially to PHILASTER
and the MAID'S TRAGEDY, this list includes such general 'works
on the drama and on Beaumont and Fletcher as are likely to prove
useful to the student or the general reader. See also the memoirs and
critical matter in the editions of the texts included in the preceding
lists.
1664. A SHORT DISCOURSE ON THE ENGLISH STAGE, in Love's
Kingdom, a pastoral tragi-comedy, Richard Flecknoe. Reprinted
in the English Drama and Stage under the Tudor and Stuart
Princes, 1553-1664, edited by W. C. Hazlitt, Roxburghe library,
1869. pp. 275-281.
1668. AN ESSAY OF DRAMATIC POESY, John Dryden. Works
of Dryden, ed. Scott-Saintsbury, xv, 282 ff.
1668. A DEFENCE OF AN ESSAY ON DRAMATIC POESY, John
Dryden. Works of Dryden, ed. Scott-Saintsbury, n, 290.
1678. THE TRAGEDIES OF THE LAST AGE, CONSIDER' D AND EX-
AMIN'D, BY THE PRACTICE OF THE ANCIENTS, AND BY THE COMMON
SENSE OF ALL AGES : IN A LETTER TO FLEETWOOD SHEPHERD, Esg.,
338
Thomas Rymer. [Contains criticisms on the Maid's Tragedy, Rol/o,
and A King and No King.] Second Edition, 1692.
1679. THE GROUNDS OF CRITICISM IN TRAGEDY (An Answer
to Rymer) , John Dryden. Works of Dryden, ed. Scott-Saintsbury,
vi, 260-283.
1691. AN ACCOUNT OF THE ENGLISH DRAMATIC POETS,
Gerard Langbaine. Reedited as THE LIVES OF THE POETS, by
Charles Gildon, 1698; THE COMPANION TO THE PLAYHOUSE,
by David Baker, 1764; BIOGRAPHIA DRAMATICA, by Isaac Reed,
1782, and by Stephen Jones, 1812.
1753. THE LIVES OF THE POETS OF GREAT BRITAIN AND
IRELAND, Theophilus Cibber and Robert Shiels. i, 154-164.
1797. COMMENTS ON THE PLAYS OF BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER,
J. Monck Mason.
l8ll. USER DRAMATISCHE KUNST UNO LITERATUR, A. W.
Schlegel. Vol. 2, Part 2, pp. 288-306. Heidelberg. Translated
by John Black as LECTURES ON DRAMATIC ART AND LITERATURE,
Philadelphia, 1833.
1814. EXPLANATIONS AND EMENDATIONS OF SOME PASSAGES IN
THE TEXT OF SHAKESPEARE AND OF BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER,
Martinus Scriblerus [pseud.]. Edinburgh.
l82I. LECTURES ON THE DRAMATIC LITERATURE OF THE AGE
OF ELIZABETH, William Hazlitt. pp. 86— 101.
1831. BEITRAGE zu EINER GENAUERN VERGLEICHUNG SHAKS-
PEARE'S MIT BEAUMONT UNO FLETCHER, Franz Horn. Skaks-
peare's Schauspiele, v, 34-72. Leipzig.
1832. SOME ACCOUNT OF THE ENGLISH STAGE, FROM THE
RESTORATION TO 1830, J. Genest. lovols. [For numerous notes
on the plays, see under their names in the index, vol. i.]
1833. A LETTER ON SHAKESPEARE'S AUTHORSHIP OF THE Two
NOBLE KINSMEN ; A DRAMA COMMONLY ASSIGNED TO JOHN
FLETCHER, William Spaulding, Edinburgh. A NEW EDITION, WITH
A LIFE OF THE AUTHOR BY JOHN HlLL BURTON, NeiV SkaksperC
Society, 1876.
1836. NOTES ON BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER, Samuel Taylor
Coleridge. The Literary Remains of S. T. Coleridge, collected and
edited by H. N. Coleridge, 11, 289-322. Also in the Complete
Works ofS. T. Coleridge, edited by Prof. Shedd; New York, 18535
339
iv, 199—220. And in Lectures and Notes on Shakspere and
other English Poets, by S. T. Coleridge ; now first collected by
T. Ashe, 1883. pp. 395-4075 425-451. [See the Index for
references to various comments on Beaumont and Fletcher from
Table Talk and elsewhere.]
1 837. LIVES OF THE MOST EMINENT LITERARY AND SCIENTIFIC
MEN OF GREAT BRITAIN, Dramatists, Robert Bell and S. A.
Dunham, i, 203—251.
1839. INTRODUCTION TO THE LITERATURE OF EUROPE IN THE
I5TH, i6TH, AND i yTH CENTURIES, Henry Hallam. HI, 337-
351. [Various later editions.]
1840. REVIEW OF DARLEY'S EDITION, " Adversaria, no. in,
Peter-see-mee, " Eraser's Magazine, August, 1840, xxn, 189—
192. Also reviewed in American Whig Review, ]uly and August,
1846, iv, 68—80, 131—146.
1841. BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER AND THEIR CONTEMPORA-
RIES, [William Spaulding,] Edinburgh Re-view, April, LXXIII, 209-
241.
1846. MEMOIRS OF THE PRINCIPAL ACTORS IN THE PLAYS OF
SHAKESPEARE, J. P. Collier, Shakespeare Society Publications.
1847. REVIEW OF DYCE'S EDITION, Edinburgh Review, July,
LXXXVI, 42—67 j Eclectic Magazine, October ; Lift ell's Living
Age, xiv, 385.
1847. " SALMACIS AND HERMAPHRODITUS," NOT BY FRANCIS
BEAUMONT: the edition of 1602, Dramaticus [pseud.]. The
Shakespeare Society's Papers, HI, 94—126.
1847. THE SHARES OF SHAKSPERE AND FLETCHER IN THE
Two NOBLE KINSMEN, Samuel Hickson, Westminster and Foreign
Quarterly Review, April, XLVII, 59—88. Reprinted, with a con-
firmation by F. G. Fleay, in New Shakspere Society's Transactions,
1874.
1848. DYCE'S AND DARLEY'S EDITIONS, Quarterly Review,
Sept. 1848, LXXXIII, 377-418.
1850. BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER, William B. Donne, Fraser's
Magazine, March, XLI, 321—332. Reprinted in ESSAYS ON THE
DRAMA AND ON POPULAR AMUSEMENTS; Second edition, 1863,
pp. 34-66.
1850. ON THE SEVERAL SHARES OF SHAKSPERE AND FLETCHER
340
IN THE PLAT OF HENRY VIII, James Spedding, the Gentleman's
Magazine, Aug. and Oct. 1850, new series, xxxiv, 115—123,
381-382. Also in New Shakspere Society's Transactions, 1874.
1856. CURSORY NOTES ON VARIOUS PASSAGES IN THE TEXT OF
BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER, AS EDITED BY THE REV. ALEXANDER
DYCE, etc. , John Mitford.
1856. STUDIEN UBER DAS ENGLISCHE THEATER, V, FLETCHER,
Moritz Rapp, Archiv fur das Studium der neuern Sprachen und
Literaturen, xx, 1—37.
1858. CYCLOPEDIA OF ENGLISH LITERATURE, William and
Robert Chambers, 1858, i, 218-225. Revised Edition, 1901, i,
468-478.
1864. CONTEMPORAINS ET SucCESSEURS DE SHAKESPEARE,
Alfred Mezieres. 2d Edition, n, 21-211. Paris.
1864. SHAKESPEARE AND JONSON. DRAMATIC VERSUS WIT-
COMBATS. AUXILIARY FORCES: BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER, MAR-
STON, DECKER, CHAPMAN, AND WEBSTER. Unsigned.
1869. THE LITERATURE OF THE AGE OF ELIZABETH, E. P.
Whipple, pp. 157-177. Boston.
1871. ON THE COMIC WRITERS OF ENGLAND, ra, BEAUMONT
AND FLETCHER. Charles Cowden Clarke, Gentleman's Magazine,
June. Entirely New Series, vn, 27-48.
1874* FLETCHER AND BEAUMONT, Unsigned, Temple Bar,
Nov., XLII, 460-471.
1874. ON METRICAL TESTS AS APPLIED TO DRAMATIC PO-
ETRY, F. G. Fleay. PART n. FLETCHER, BEAUMONT, MASSINGER,
WITH ILLUSTRATIVE PASSAGES AND A DISCUSSION. NeiU Shakspere
Society's Transactions, pp. 51—84. Also in Shakspere Manual,
1876, pp. 151-174-
1875* A HISTORY OF ENGLISH DRAMATIC LITERATURE TO THE
DEATH OF QUEEN ANNE, A. W. Ward, 2 vols., n, 155-248.
Revised ed., 3 vols., 1899, n, 643-763.
1875* A NOTE ON CERVANTES AND BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER,
C. J., Fraser's Magazine, May, xci, 592—597.
1876. BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER, Unsigned, National Quar-
terly Review, Sept., xxxni, 302-330.
1879. HISTORY OF ENGLISH DRAMATIC POETRY, etc., J. P.
Collier. 3 vols.
341
1881-1887. BEAUMONT, FLETCHER, AND MASSINGER, Robert
Boyle, Englische Studten, — v, 74-96; vil, 66-87; VIII> 39~6iJ
ix, 209—239; x, 380—412. See vols. v and vn for P At/aster and
the Maid's Tragedy.
1883. FRANCIS BEAUMONT: A CRITICAL STUDY, G. C.
Macaulay. Reviewed in the Athenaeum, Feb. 2, 1884 ; the
Academy, Dec. 22, 1883 ; the Spectator, Aug. 2, 1884.
1884. CHAPTERS IN THE HISTORY OF ENGLISH LITERATURE
FROM 1509 TO THE CLOSE OF THE ELIZABETHAN PERIOD, Ellen
Crofts, ch. 9, pp. 258-283.
1885- FRANCIS BEAUMONT, A. B. Grosart, Dictionary of
National Biography.
1885. ON THE CHRONOLOGY OF THE PLAYS OF FLETCHER AND
MASSINGER, F. G. Fleay, Englische Studien, 1885—6, ix, 12—35.
[The substance of this paper is embodied in the author's Chronicle
of the English Drama, 1891, q. •».]
1885. UBER BEZIEHUNGEN VON BEAUMONT UNO FLETCHER'S
PHILASTER, OR LOVE LIES A-BLEEDING, zu SHAKESPEARE'S
HAMLET UNO CYMBELINE, B. Leonhardt, Anglia, vin, 424-
447-
1886. BEAUMONT, FLETCHER, AND MASSINGER, Robert Boyle,
pp. 579—628. [A summary of papers under the same title in
Englische Studien, 1881-87.]
1886. GESCHICHTE DES DRAMAS, J. L. Klein. 13 vols.
English drama, vols. 12, 13. Leipsic.
1886. SOME ETHICAL ASPECTS OF LATER ELIZABETHAN
TRAGEDY, J. Rose Colby. Dissertation, pp. 23-37, University of
Michigan, Ann Arbor.
1887. BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER, Algernon Charles Swin-
burne, Encyclopedia Britannica, 9th ed., in, 469-474.
1887. A HISTORY OF ELIZABETHAN LITERATURE, George
Saintsbury, pp. 254—266.
1889. JOHN FLETCHER, A. H. Bullen, Dictionary of National
Biography.
1890. A BIBLIOGRAPHY OF BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER, Alfred
C. Potter, Bibliographical Contributions, Library of Harvard Uni-
versity, no. 39. Cambridge, U. S. A.
1890-92. THE WORKS OF BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER, E. F.
342
Oliphant, Englische Studien : xiv, 53—945 xv, 341—360; xvi,
1 80-200. See vol. xiv for Philaster and the Maid's Tragedy.
1891. A BIOGRAPHICAL CHRONICLE OF THE ENGLISH DRAMA,
F. G. Fleay. a vols. Beaumont and Fletcher, i, 164—229.
1892. THE OLD DRAMATISTS, James Russell Lowell. Boston.
1893. DIE ENGLISCHEN DRAMATIKER VOR, NEBEN, UNO NACH,
SHAKESPEARE, A. F. von Schack. Stuttgart.
1893. SPANISCHE QUELLEN DER DRAMATISCHEN LITTERATUR,
BESONDERS ENGLANDS ZU SHAKESPEARES ZEIT, LeO Bahlsen, Zeit-
tchrift fur •vergleichende Litteraturgeschichte. Neue Folge, vi, pp.
151-159. Berlin- Weimar .
1895. QUELLEN-STUDIEN ZUDEN DRAMEN BENJONSON'S, JOHN
MARSTON'S, UNO BEAUMONT'S UNO FLETCHER'S, Emil Koeppel,
Miinchener Beitrage. Leipzig.
1896. DIE TEXT-VARIANTEN VON BEAUMONT'S UNO FLETCH-
ER'S PHILASTER, etc., B. Leonhardt, Anglia, xix, xx, xxm, xxiv,
xxvi. Philaster, xix, 34-74. Maid's Tragedy, xxin, 14-66.
1896. THE OLD DRAMATISTS, CONJECTURAL READINGS, K.
Deighton. Beaumont and Fletcher, pp. 30-88.
1901. THE INFLUENCE OF BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER ON
SHAKSPERE, A. H. Thorndike. Worcester, Mass.
1903. A HISTORY OF ENGLISH POETRY, W. G. Courthope.
4 vols. published, 1895-1903. iv, 304-348.
1904. THE TEMPER OF THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY IN
ENGLISH LITERATURE, Barrett Wendell. New York.
1905. SPANISH INFLUENCE ON ENGLISH LITERATURE, Martin
A. Hume, p. 276 ff.
1905. JOHN WEBSTER, E. E. Stoll. [Contains a discussion of
the influence of Beaumont and Fletcher on Webster.] Cambridge,
U. S. A.
abusde, deceived. P. ni, i,
no.
answerable, suitable, con-
venient. P. iv, ii, 36.
apprehensive, capable of
understanding. P. v, v, 152.
beaten (beaten rockc], overlaid
or inlaid with precious metal.
M. T. i, ii, 216.
bill, a kind of pike, used by
watchmen. P. v, iv, 32.
blankes, blank-verses. P. n,
ii, 98.
bodkin, baudkin, a rich stuff
of gold and silk. P. v, iv, 12.
bowes (boughs). M. T. i, ii,
194.
branch, to form patterns. P.
v, iv, 12, 42.
brave, finely dressed. P. ii,
iv, 28, etc.
bravery, ostentation. P. i, i,
275.
bugs, bugbears, objects of ter-
ror. P. i, i, 245.
bugs - words, swaggering
words. P. v, iv, 28.
Canker, a wormy disease, a
corroding evil. M. T. iv, i,
85 j v, i, 76.
cantharides, the dried Span-
ish fly, used as a drug. P.
iv, i, 48.
Carduus, a genus of herbs re-
sembling the thistle and for-
merly esteemed as a remedy for
all kinds of diseases. P. ii,
ii, 4*.
carriage, baggage. P. iv, i,
45 j behavior. P. ii, iv,
121, etc
chamblets, camlets, rich fa-
brics of wool or silk with a
wavy, watered appearance. P.
v, iv, 10.
church-ale, a convivial meet-
ing on occasion of a church
festival. P. v, iv, 55.
codes, a corruption of God's.
M. T. i, ii, 29.
COg, cheat, cajole. P. i, i, 64,
etc.
conger, cucumber. P. ii, ii,
46.
curious, scrupulous. P. in,
i> 30-
curst, cross, shrewish. P. H,
iii, 41.
dare, amaze, terrify. M. T.
iv, i, 182.
dazle, to be stupefied. M. T.
iv, i, 199.
donsels, young gentlemen, not
344
yet admitted to knighthood.
P. v, iv, 61.
dowcets, testes. P. iv, ii, 15;
v, iv, 6 1.
duckers, cringers, bowers ;
or, perhaps, duck-hunters,
alluding to a favorite sport of
the citizens. P. v, iv, 15.
dullnesse, sleepiness. P. iv,
iv, 6.
face, pretend, lie with effront-
ery. M. T. iv, i, 54.
facers, shameless persons. M.
T. iv, ii, 124.
firker, a rouser, a fast one. P.
iv, ii, 30.
foist, a small vessel. P. v, iv,
22.
followers, pursuers. P. iv,
iv, 33-
foxe, a broad sword. P. iv,
iii, 132.
foremen, cant name for geese.
P. v, iii, 175.
galloone-laces, worsted laces
woven in narrow ribbon or
tape for binding. P. v, iv, 46.
goatish, rank, coarse, barbar-
ous. P. v, iii, 157.
gols, go/hj hands. P. v, iv,
zoo.
hand-wolf, tamed wolf. M.
T. iv, i, 193.
honest, chaste. P. n, ii, 5 j
iv, ii, 26.
hull, to lie inactive with no
sails set. P. v, iv, 24.
humane, human. M. T. m,
", 173-
humourous, moody. M. T.
i, ii, 27.
inevitable, irresistible. M. T.
in, ii, 79.
ingenious, ingenuous. M. T.
in, i, 211.
jades, spurns, maltreats. P.
i, i, 190.
jag, cut or slash. P. v, iv, 44.
jealous, suspicious. P. ii, iv,
1 8, etc.
kell, caule about the hart's
paunch. P. v, iv, 45.
kit, cittern, a kind of guitar.
P. v, iv, 68.
layars, lairs. P. v, iii, 29.
leg, a bow. P. i, i, 87.
lyme-hound, a hound of the
chase so-called from the lime
or leash by which it was led.
P. iv, i, 1 6.
lodged, brought to covert. P.
make, to train a hawk. P. v,
iv, 125.
miching, mitcAing, creeping,
sneaking. P. iv, ii, 20.
mued, mewed up. P. v, iii,
'53-
345
murrains, plagues. P. v, iii,
murrian, morion, a helmet.
P. v, iv, 88.
phlebotomie, blood letting.
P. ii, ii, 45.
physicall, good for the health.
P. iv, i, 29.
pickthanks, a tale - teller,
" barbateur, a sicophant, a
pickthanke, a privie whis-
perer, a close detractor, a se-
cret tale-teller," Cotgrave
(B) j M. T. m, i, 219.
pollard, an animal, stag or ox,
without horns. P. v, iv, 78.
popping] ayes, parrots. P.
i, i, 216.
presses, creases. P. v, iii,
150.
prevent, anticipate. P. i, ii,
199.
prodigious, portentous. P. ii,
iv, 175 ; v, iii, 61.
piramis, pyramid. P. iv, iv,
91.
raskall, rascal, a lean doe or
deer. P. iv, ii, 20.
readier, more ready, more
dressed. M. T. in, i, 20.
resolute, convinced. M. T.
in, i, 280.
resolve, convince. P. ii, iv,
102 ; am convinced. M. T.
n, i, 348.
rid, despatch. M. T. ii, i, 327.
ring-taile, an inferior sort of
kite. P. v, iv, 57.
rose-noble, gold coin stamped
with rose. P. v, iv, 19.
roarer, roaring boy, bully. P.
v, iv, 86.
SCarcenet, sarcenet, soft silk
fabric. P. v, iv, 56.
sea-breach, sea-beach. M.T.
ii, ii, 68 j irruption of the sea.
P. v, iii, 200.
Servant, lover, the titie con-
ferred by ladies on their au-
thorized admirers. P. i, i,
^ 124, etc.
single, weak, feeble. P. v,
iv, 56.
sounds, swoons. M. T. v,
Hi, 227.
soile, to fatten. P. v, iii,
177.
Stand, a cask or the quantity
of liquor that it contains. P.
v, iv, 92.
Stone-bow, cross-bow that
shoots stones. P. iv, ii, 10.
Sullen, dark. P. v, iii, 57.
sursingle, band, girth. P.
v, iv, 124.
tainted, affected in mind. P.
i, i, 222.
three -piled, of the finest
quality (of velvet). P. v, iv,
16.
tiller, cross-bow. P. H, ii,
45-
346
timelesse, untimely. M. T. i,
ii, 68, etc.
Towsabel, Dowsabel. P. H,
ii, 161.
toy, whim. P. v, iii, 139.
tract, tracked. P. iv, iv, 51.
travells, labors. P. i, i, 1 60.
troule, to sing a catch. P. v,
iii, 137.
turfe, cover a hat with fur or
silk. P. iv, ii, 1 6.
turtle, dove. P. i, i, 219.
uds, corruption for judge in the
expletive God's uds. P. iv,
iii, 97.
uncollected, not having con-
trol of one's mental faculties.
M. r. iv, ii, 315.
unexprest, not to be ex-
pressed. M. T. HI, ii, 85.
velvet-head, the hart's horns
(head) when first appearing
are covered with russet pile
(velvet). P. iv, ii, 16.
venies, bouts. P. iv, iii, 92.
vild, vile ; the tivo words are
used indifferently.
wasters, cudgels. P. iv, Hi,
92.
what-you-lacks, a nick-
name for shop-keepers who
thus addressed passers-by. P.
v, iii, 1 3 i.
wildernesse, wildness. M.T.
v, iii, 150.
winke, close the eyes. M. T.
in, i, 272.
wiper, a steel instrument for
cleaning the bore of a musket.
P. v, iv, 37.
I
VI*} ;,
PR Beaumont, Francis
2422 The maidfs tragedy
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