The King.

Philaster, Heir to the Crown.

Pharamond, Prince of Spain.

Dion, a Lord.

Cleremont } Noble Gentlemen his

Thrasiline } Associates.

Arethusa, the King's Daughter.

Galatea, a wise modest Lady attending the Princess.

Megra, a lascivious Lady.

An old wanton Lady, or Croan.

Another Lady attending the Princess.

Eufrasia, Daughter of Dion, but disguised like a

Page, and called Bellario.

An old Captain.

Five Citizens.

A Countrey fellow.

Two Woodmen.

The Kings Guard and Train.

* * * * *

Actus primus. Scena prima

_Enter Dion, Cleremont, and Thrasiline.

Cler. Here's not Lords nor Ladies.

Dion. Credit me Gentlemen, I wonder at it. They receiv'd strict charge from the King to attend here: Besides it was boldly published, that no Officer should forbid any Gentlemen that desire to attend and hear.

Cle. Can you guess the cause?

Di. Sir, it is plain about the Spanish Prince, that's come
to marry our Kingdoms Heir, and be our Soveraign.

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

Di. O Sir, the multitude (that seldom know any thing but their own opinions) speak that they would have; but the Prince, before his own approach, receiv'd so many confident messages from the State, that I think she's resolv'd to be rul'd.

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

Di. Sir, it is (without controversie) so meant. But 'twill be a troublesome labour for him to enjoy both these Kingdoms, with safetie, the right Heir to one of them living, and living so vertuously, especially the people admiring the bravery of his mind, and lamenting his injuries.

Cle. Who, Philaster?

Di. Yes, whose Father we all know, was by our late
                King of Calabria, unrighteously deposed from his
                fruitful Cicilie. My self drew some blood in those
               Wars, which I would give my hand to be washed from.

Cle. Sir, my ignorance in State-policy, will not let me know why Philaster being Heir to one of these Kingdoms, the King should suffer him to walk abroad with such free liberty.

Di. Sir, it seems your nature is more constant than to enquire after State news. But the King (of late) made a hazard of both the Kingdoms, of Cicilie and his own, with offering but to imprison Philaster. At which the City was in arms, not to be charm'd down by any State-order or Proclamation, till they saw Philaster ride through the streets pleas'd, and without a guard; at which they threw their Hats, and their arms from them; some to make bonefires, some to drink, all for his deliverance. Which (wise men say) is the cause, the King labours to bring in the power of a Foreign Nation to aw his own with.

[ Enter Galatea, Megra, and a Lady.

Thra. See, the Ladies, what's the first?

Di. A wise and modest Gentlwoman that attends the Princess.

Cle. The second?

Di. She is one that may stand still discreetly enough, and ill favour'dly Dance her Measure; simper when she is Courted by her Friend, and slight her Husband.

Cle. The last?

Di. Marry I think she is one whom the State keeps for the Agents of our confederate Princes: she'll cog and lie with a whole army before the League shall break: her name is common through the Kingdom, and the Trophies of her dishonour, advanced beyond Hercules-pillars. She loves to try the several constitutions of mens bodies; and indeed has destroyed the worth of her own body, by making experiment upon it, for the good of the Common-wealth.

Cle. She's a profitable member.

La. Peace, if you love me: you shall see these Gentlemen stand their ground, and not Court us.

Gal. What if they should?

Meg. What if they should?

La. Nay, let her alone; what if they should? why, if they should, I say, they were never abroad: what Foreigner would do so? it writes them directly untravel'd.

Gal. Why, what if they be?

Meg. What if they be?

La. Good Madam let her go on; what if they be? Why if they be I will justifie, they cannot maintain discourse with a judicious Lady, nor make a Leg, nor say Excuse me.

Gal. Ha, ha, ha.

La. Do you laugh Madam?

Di. Your desires upon you Ladies.

La. Then you must sit beside us.

Di. I shall sit near you then Lady.

La. Near me perhaps: But there's a Lady indures no
stranger; and to me you appear a very strange fellow.

Meg. Me thinks he's not so strange, he would quickly be
acquainted.

Thra. Peace, the King.

[ Enter King, Pharamond, Arethusa, and Train.

King. To give a stronger testimony of love
                Than sickly promises (which commonly
                In Princes find both birth and burial
                In one breath) we have drawn you worthy Sir,
                To make your fair indearments to [our] daughter,
                And worthy services known to our subjects,
                Now lov'd and wondered at. Next, our intent,
                To plant you deeply, our immediate Heir,
                Both to our Blood and Kingdoms. For this Lady,
                (The best part of your life, as you confirm me,
                And I believe) though her few years and sex
                Yet teach her nothing but her fears and blushes,
                Desires without desire, discourse and knowledge
                Only of what her self is to her self,
                Make her feel moderate health: and when she sleeps,
                In making no ill day, knows no ill dreams.
                Think not (dear Sir) these undivided parts,
                That must mould up a Virgin, are put on
                To shew her so, as borrowed ornaments,
                To speak her perfect love to you, or add
                An Artificial shadow to her nature:
                No Sir; I boldly dare proclaim her, yet
                No Woman. But woo her still, and think her modesty
                A sweeter mistress than the offer'd Language
                Of any Dame, were she a Queen whose eye
                Speaks common loves and comforts to her servants.
                Last, noble son, (for so I now must call you)
                What I have done thus publick, is not only
                To add a comfort in particular
                To you or me, but all; and to confirm
                The Nobles, and the Gentry of these Kingdoms,
                By oath to your succession, which shall be
                Within this month at most.

Thra. This will be hardly done.

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

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

Thra. I fear.

Cle. Who does not?

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

Pha. Kissing your white hand (Mistress) I take leave,
                To thank your Royal Father: and thus far,
                To be my own free Trumpet. Understand
                Great King, and these your subjects, mine that must be,
                (For so deserving you have spoke me Sir,
                And so deserving I dare speak my self)
                To what a person, of what eminence,
                Ripe expectation of what faculties,
                Manners and vertues you would wed your Kingdoms?
                You in me have your wishes. Oh this Country,
                By more than all my hopes I hold it
                Happy, in their dear memories that have been
                Kings great and good, happy in yours, that is,
                And from you (as a Chronicle to keep
                Your Noble name from eating age) do I
                Opine myself most happy. Gentlemen,
                Believe me in a word, a Princes word,
                There shall be nothing to make up a Kingdom
                Mighty, and flourishing, defenced, fear'd,
                Equall to be commanded and obey'd,
                But through the travels of my life I'le find it,
                And tye it to this Country. And I vow
                My reign shall be so easie to the subject,
                That every man shall be his Prince himself,
                And his own law (yet I his Prince and law.)
                And dearest Lady, to your dearest self
                (Dear, in the choice of him, whose name and lustre
                Must make you more and mightier) let me say,
                You are the blessed'st living; for sweet Princess,
                You shall enjoy a man of men, to be
                Your servant; you shall make him yours, for whom
                Great Queens must die.

Thra. Miraculous.

Cle. This speech calls him Spaniard, being nothing but A large inventory of his own commendations.

[Enter Philaster.

Di. I wonder what's his price? For certainly he'll tell himself he has so prais'd his shape: But here comes one more worthy those large speeches, than the large speaker of them? let me be swallowed quick, if I can find, in all the Anatomy of yon mans vertues, one sinew sound enough to promise for him, he shall be Constable. By this Sun, he'll ne're make King unless it be for trifles, in my poor judgment.

Phi. Right Noble Sir, as low as my obedience, And with a heart as Loyal as my knee, I beg your favour.

King. Rise, you have it Sir.

Di. Mark but the King how pale he looks with fear. Oh! this same whorson Conscience, how it jades us!

King. Speak your intents Sir.

Phi. Shall I speak 'um freely?
                Be still my royal Soveraign.

King. As a subject
                We give you freedom.

Di. Now it heats.

Phi. Then thus I turn
                My language to you Prince, you foreign man.
                Ne're stare nor put on wonder, for you must
                Indure me, and you shall. This earth you tread upon
                (A dowry as you hope with this fair Princess,
                Whose memory I bow to) was not left
                By my dead Father (Oh, I had a Father)
                To your inheritance, and I up and living,
                Having my self about me and my sword,
                The souls of all my name, and memories,
                These arms and some few friends, besides the gods,
                To part so calmly with it, and sit still,
                And say I might have been! I tell thee Pharamond,
                When thou art King, look I be dead and rotten,
                And my name ashes; For, hear me Pharamond,
                This very ground thou goest on, this fat earth,
                My Fathers friends made fertile with their faiths,
                Before that day of shame, shall gape and swallow
                Thee and thy Nation, like a hungry grave,
                Into her hidden bowels: Prince, it shall;
                By Nemesis it shall.

Pha. He's mad beyond cure, mad.

Di. Here's a fellow has some fire in's veins:
                The outlandish Prince looks like a Tooth-drawer.

Phi. Sir, Prince of Poppingjayes, I'le make it well appear
                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 born without passion,
                A faint shadow, that every drunken cloud sails over,
                And makes nothing.

King. I do not fancy this,
                Call our Physicians: sure he is somewhat tainted.

Thra. I do not think 'twill prove so.

Di. H'as given him a general purge already, for all the right he has, and now he means to let him blood: Be constant Gentlemen; by these hilts I'le run his hazard, although I run my name out of the Kingdom.

Cle. Peace, we are one soul.

Pha. What you have seen in me, to stir offence,
                I cannot find, unless it be this Lady
                Offer'd into mine arms, with the succession,
                Which I must keep though it hath pleas'd your fury
                To mutiny within you; without disputing
                Your Genealogies, or taking knowledge
                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 sun
                Shine upon any but thine: were Pharamond
                As truly valiant, as I feel him cold,
                And ring'd among the choicest of his friends,
                Such as would blush to talk such serious follies,
                Or back such bellied commendations,
                And from this present, spight of all these bugs,
                You should hear further from me.

King. Sir, you wrong the Prince:
                I gave you not this freedom to brave our best friends,
                You deserve our frown: go to, be better temper'd.

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

Gal. Ladyes,
                This would have been a pattern of succession,
                Had he ne're met this mischief. By my life,
                He is the worthiest the true name of man
                This day within my knowledge.

Meg. I cannot tell what you may call your knowledge,
                But the other is the man set in mine eye;
                Oh! 'tis a Prince of wax.

Gal. A Dog it is.

King. Philaster, tell me,
                The injuries you aim at in your riddles.

Phi. If you had my eyes Sir, and sufferance,
                My griefs upon you and my broken fortunes,
                My want's great, and now nought but hopes and fears,
                My wrongs would make ill riddles to be laught at.
                Dare you be still my King and right me not?

King. Give me your wrongs in private.

[They whisper.

Phi. Take them, and ease me of a load would bow strong Atlas.

Di. He dares not stand the shock.

Di. I cannot blame, him, there's danger in't. Every man in this age, has not a soul of Crystal for all men to read their actions through: mens hearts and faces are so far asunder, that they hold no intelligence. Do but view yon stranger well, and you shall see a Feaver through all his bravery, and feel him shake like a true Tenant; if he give not back his Crown again, upon the report of an Elder Gun, I have no augury.

King. Go to:
                Be more your self, as you respect our favour:
                You'I stir us else: Sir, I must have you know
                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 not wrong'd: I carry all about me,
                My weak stars led me to all my weak fortunes.
                Who dares in all this presence speak (that is
                But man of flesh and may be mortal) tell me
                I do not most intirely love this Prince,
                And honour his full vertues!

King. Sure he's possest.

Phi. Yes, with my Fathers spirit; It's here O King!
                A dangerous spirit; now he tells me King,
                I was a Kings heir, bids me be a King,
                And whispers to me, these be all my Subjects.
                'Tis strange, he will not let me sleep, but dives
                Into my fancy, and there gives me shapes
                That kneel, and do me service, cry me King:
                But I'le suppress him, he's a factious spirit,
                And will undo me: noble Sir, [your] hand, I am your
                servant.

King. Away, I do not like this:
                I'le make you tamer, or I'le dispossess you
                Both of life and spirit: For this time
                I pardon your wild speech, without so much
                As your imprisonment.

[Ex. King, Pha. and Are.

Di. I thank you Sir, you dare not for the people.

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

Meg. A pretty talking fellow, hot at hand; but eye yon stranger, is not he a fine compleat Gentleman? O these strangers, I do affect them strangely: they do the rarest home things, and please the fullest! as I live, could love all the Nation over and over for his sake.

Gal. Pride comfort your poor head-piece Lady: 'tis a weak one, and had need of a Night-cap.

Di. See how his fancy labours, has he not spoke
                Home, and bravely? what a dangerous train
                Did he give fire to! How he shook the King,
                Made his soul melt within him, and his blood
                Run into whay! it stood upon his brow,
                Like a cold winter dew.

Phi. Gentlemen,
                You have no suit to me? I am no minion:
                You stand (methinks) like men that would be Courtiers,
                If you could well be fiatter'd at a price,
                Not to undo your Children: y'are all honest:
                Go get you home again, and make your Country
                A vertuous Court, to which your great ones may,
                In their Diseased age, retire, and live recluse.

Cle. How do you worthy Sir?

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

Di. The King must please,
                Whilst we know what you are, and who you are,
                Your wrongs and [injuries]: shrink not, worthy Sir,
                But add your Father to you: in whose name,
                We'll waken all the gods, and conjure up
                The rods of vengeance, the abused people,
                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 years may he corrupted: 'Tis an age
                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 call'd you Father;
                Is she yet alive?

Di. Most honour'd Sir, she is:
                And for the penance but of an idle dream,
                Has undertook a tedious Pilgrimage.

[ Enter a Lady.

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

La. To you, brave Lord; the Princess would intreat Your present company.

Phi. The Princess send for me! y'are mistaken.

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

Phi. Kiss her hand, and say I will attend her.

Di. Do you know what you do?

Phi. Yes, go to see a woman.

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

Phi. Danger in a sweet face?
                 By Jupiter I must not fear a woman.

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

Phi. I do not think it Gentlemen: she's noble,
                Her eye may shoot me dead, or those true red
                And white friends in her face may steal my soul out:
                There's all the danger in't: but be what may,
                Her single name hath arm'd me.

[Ex. Phil.

Di. Go on:
                And be as truly happy as thou art fearless:
                Come Gentlemen, let's make our friends acquainted,
                Lest the King prove false.

[Ex. Gentlemen.

Enter Arethusa and a Lady.

Are. Comes he not?

La. Madam?

Are. Will Philaster come?

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

Are. But didst thou tell me so?
                I am forgetful, and my womans strength
                Is so o'recharg'd with danger like to grow
                About my Marriage that these under-things
                Dare not abide in such a troubled sea:
                How look't he, when he told thee he would come?

La. Why, well.

Are. And not a little fearful?

La. Fear Madam? sure he knows not what it is.

Are. You are all of his Faction; the whole Court
                Is bold in praise of him, whilst I
                May live neglected: and do noble things,
                As fools in strife throw gold into the Sea,
                Drown'd in the doing: but I know he fears.

La. Fear? Madam (me thought) his looks hid more
                Of love than fear.

Are. Of love? To whom? to you?
                Did you deliver those plain words I sent,
                With such a winning gesture, and quick look
                That you have caught him?

La. Madam, I mean to you.

Are. Of love to me? Alas! thy ignorance
                Lets thee not see the crosses of our births:
                Nature, that loves not to be questioned
                Why she did this, or that, but has her ends,
                And knows she does well; never gave the world
                Two things so opposite, so contrary,
                As he and I am: If a bowl of blood
                Drawn from this arm of mine, would poyson thee,
                A draught of his would cure thee. Of love to me?

La. Madam, I think I hear him.

Are. Bring him in:
                You gods that would not have your dooms withstood,
                Whose holy wisdoms at this time it is,
                To make the passion of a feeble maid
                The way unto your justice, I obey.

[ Enter Phil.

La. Here is my Lord Philaster.

Are. Oh! 'tis well:
                Withdraw your self.

Phi. Madam, your messenger
                Made me believe, you wisht to speak with me.

Are. 'Tis true Philaster, but the words are such,
                I have to say, and do so ill beseem
                The mouth of woman, that I wish them said,
                And yet am loth to speak them. Have you known
                That I have ought detracted from your worth?
                Have I in person wrong'd you? or have set
                My baser instruments to throw disgrace
                Upon your vertues?

Phi. Never Madam you.

Are. Why then should you in such a publick place,
                Injure a Princess and a scandal lay
                Upon my fortunes, fam'd to be so great:
                Calling a great part of my dowry in question.

Phi. Madam, this truth which I shall speak, will be
                Foolish: but for your fair and vertuous self,
                I could afford my self to have no right
                To any thing you wish'd.

Are. Philaster, know
                I must enjoy these Kingdoms.

Phi. Madam, both?

Are. Both or I die: by Fate I die Philaster,
                If I not calmly may enjoy them both.

Phi. I would do much to save that Noble life:
                Yet would be loth to have posterity
                Find in our stories, that Philaster gave
                His right unto a Scepter, and a Crown,
                To save a Ladies longing.

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

Phi. What more?

Are. Or lose that little life the gods prepared, To trouble this poor piece of earth withall.

Phi. Madam, what more?

Are. Turn then away thy face.

Phi. No.

Are. Do.

Phi. I cannot endure it: turn away my face?
                I never yet saw enemy that lookt
                So dreadful, but that I thought my self
                As great a Basilisk as he; or spake
                So horribly, but that I thought my tongue
                Bore Thunder underneath, as much as his:
                Nor beast that I could turn from: shall I then
                Begin to fear sweet sounds? a Ladies voice,
                Whom I do love? Say you would have my life,
                Why, I will give it you; for it is of me
                A thing so loath'd, and unto you that ask
                Of so poor use, that I shall make no price
                If you intreat, I will unmov'dly hear.

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

Phi. I do.

Are. Then know I must have them and thee.

Phi. And me?

Are. Thy love: without which, all the Land Discovered yet, will serve me for no use, But to be buried in.

Phi. Is't possible?

Are. With it, it were too little to bestow
                On thee: Now, though thy breath doth strike me dead
                (Which know it may) I have unript my breast.

Phi. Madam, you are too full of noble thoughts,
                To lay a train for this contemned life,
                Which you may have for asking: to suspect
                Were base, where I deserve no ill: love you!
                By all my hopes I do, above my life:
                But how this passion should proceed from you
                So violently, would amaze a man, that would be jealous.

Are. Another soul into my body shot,
                Could not have fill'd me with more strength and spirit,
                Than this thy breath: but spend not hasty time,
                In seeking how I came thus: 'tis the gods,
                The gods, that make me so; and sure our love
                Will be the nobler, and the better blest,
                In that the secret justice of the gods
                Is mingled with it. Let us leave and kiss,
                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
                To hold intelligence? That our true lovers,
                On any new occasion may agree, what path is best to
                tread?

Phi. I have a boy sent by the gods, I hope to this intent,
                Not yet seen in the Court; hunting the Buck,
                I found him sitting by a Fountain side,
                Of which he borrow'd some to quench his thirst,
                And paid the Nymph again as much in tears;
                A Garland lay him by, made by himself,
                Of many several flowers, bred in the bay,
                Stuck in that mystick order, that the rareness
                Delighted me: but ever when he turned
                His tender eyes upon 'um, he would weep,
                As if he meant to make 'um grow again.
                Seeing such pretty helpless innocence
                Dwell in his face, I ask'd him all his story;
                He told me that his Parents gentle dyed,
                Leaving him to the mercy of the fields,
                Which gave him roots; and of the Crystal springs,
                Which did not stop their courses: and the Sun,
                Which still, he thank'd him, yielded him his light,
                Then took he up his Garland and did shew,
                What every flower as Country people hold,
                Did signifie: and how all ordered thus,
                Exprest his grief: and to my thoughts did read
                The prettiest lecture of his Country Art
                That could be wisht: so that, me thought, I could
                Have studied it. I gladly entertain'd him,
                Who was glad to follow; and have got
                The trustiest, loving'st, and the gentlest boy,
                That ever Master kept: Him will I send
                To wait on you, and bear our hidden love.

[ Enter Lady.

Are. 'Tis well, no more.

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

Are. What will you do Philaster with your self?

Phi. Why, that which all the gods have appointed out for me.

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

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

Are. He cannot know it.

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

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

Phi. I will.

[ Enter Pharamond.

Pha. My Princely Mistress, as true lovers ought,
                I come to kiss these fair hands; and to shew
                In outward Ceremonies, the dear love
                Writ in my heart.

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

Pha. To what would he have an answer?

Are. To his claim unto the Kingdom.

Pha. Sirrah, I forbear you before the King.

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

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

Phi. Good Sir, let me go.

Pha. And by my sword.

Phi. Peace Pharamond: if thou—

Are. Leave us Philaster.

Phi. I have done.

Pha. You are gone, by heaven I'le fetch you back.

Phi. You shall not need.

Pha. What now?

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

Pha. Do you slight
                My greatness so, and in the Chamber of the Princess!

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

[Exit Phi.

Pha. 'Tis an odd fellow Madam, we must stop His mouth with some Office, when we are married.

Are. You were best make him your Controuler.

Pha. I think he would discharge it well. But Madam,
                I hope our hearts are knit; and yet so slow
                The Ceremonies of State are, that 'twill be long
                Before our hands be so: If then you please,
                Being agreed in heart, let us not wait
                For dreaming for me, but take a little stoln
                Delights, and so prevent our joyes to come.

Are. If you dare speak such thoughts,
                I must withdraw in honour.