A King, and No King

Lig.

Indeed I should have told you that first.

Bess.

I take it so.

1.

Captaine, a should indeed, he is mistaken:

Lig.Sir you shall have it quickly, and more beating,You have stolne away a Lady Captaine Coward,And such a one.Bes.Hold, I beseech you, hold Sir,I never yet stole any living thingThat had a tooth about it.Lig.Sir I know you dare lieWith none but Summer Whores upon my life Sir.Bes.My meanes and manners never could attemptAbove a hedge or hey-cocke.Lig.Sirra that quits not me, where is this Ladie,Doe that you doe not use to doe, tell truth,Or by my hand Ile beat your Captaines braines out.Wash um, and put um in againe, that will I.Bes.There was a Ladie Sir, I must confesseOnce in my charge: the Prince Tigranes gave herTo my guard for her safetie, how I usd herShe may her selfe report, shee's with the Prince now:I did but waite upon her like a Groome,Which she will testifie I am sure: If not,My braines are at your service when you please Sir,And glad I have um for you?Lig.This is most likely, Sir I aske your pardon,And am sorrie I was so intemperate.Bes.Well, I can aske no more, you would thinke it strangeNow to have me beat you at first sight.Lig.Indeed I would but I know your goodnes can forgetTwentie beatings. You must forgive me.Bes.Yes, ther's my hand, goe where you will, I shall thinkeYou a valiant fellow for all this.Lig.My daughter is a Whore,I feele it now too sencible; yet I will see her,Discharge my selfe of being Father to her,And then backe to my Countrie, and there die;Farewell Captaine.

Exit.

Bes.

Farewell Sir, farewell, commend me to the Gentlewoman I praia.

1.How now Captaine, beare up man.Bes.Gentlemen ath' sword your hands once more, I haveBeene kickt againe, but the foolish fellow is penitent,Has ask't me mercy, and my honor's safe.2.We knew that, or the foolish fellow had better a kick'tHis Grandsire.Confirme, confirme I pray.1.There be our hands againe.2.Now let him come, and say he was not sorry,And he sleepes for it.Bes.Alas good ignorant old man, let him goe,Let him goe, these courses will undoe him.

Exeunt.

Enter Ligones, and Bacurius.

Bac.

My Lord your authoritie is good, and I am glad it is so, for my consent would never hinder you from seeing your owne King. I am a Minister, but not a governour of this state; yonder is your King, Ile leave you.

Exit.

Lig.There he is indeed, Enter Tig. and Spaco.And with him my disloyall childe.Tig.I doe perceive my fault so much, that yetMe thinkes thou shouldst not have forgiven me.Lig.Health to your Maiestie.Tig.What? good Ligones, welcome; what businesse brought thee hether?Lig.Severall Businesses.My publique businesse will appeare by this:I have a message to deliver, whichIf it please you so to authorise, isAn embassage from the Armenian state,Unto Arbaces for your libertie:The offer's there set downe, please you to read it.Tig.There is no alteration happenedSince I came thence?Lig.None Sir, all is as it was.Tig.And all our friends are well.Lig.All verie well.Spa.Though I have done nothing but what was good,I dare not see my Father: it was faultEnough not to acquaint him with that good.Lig.Madam I should have scene you.Spa.O good Sir forgive me.Lig.Forgive you, why I am no kin to you, am I?Spa.Should it be measur'd by my meane deserts,Indeed you are not.Lig.Thou couldst prate unhappilyEre thou couldst goe, would thou couldst doe as well.And how does your custome hold out here.Spa.Sir.Lig.Are you in private still, or how?Spa.What doe you meane?

Lig.

Doe you take money? are you come to sell sinne yet? perhaps I can helpe you to liberall Clients: or has not the King cast you off yet? O thou wild creature, whose best commendation is, that thou art a young Whore. I would thy Mother had liv'd to see this: or rather would I had dyed ere I had seene it: why did'st not make me acquainted when thou wert first resolv'd to be a Whore? I would have seene thy hot lust satisfied more privately. I would have kept a dancer, and a whole consort of Musitions in mine owne house, onely to fiddle thee. Spa. Sir I was never whore.

Lig.

If thou couldst not say so much for thy selfe thou shouldst be Carted.

Tig.Ligones I have read it, and like it,You shall deliver it.Lig.Well Sir I will: but I have private busines with you.Tig.Speake, what ist?Lig.How has my age deserv'd so ill of you,That you can picke no strumpets in the Land,But out of my breed.Tig.Strumpets good Ligones?Lig.Yes, and I wish to have you know, I scorneTo get a Whore for any Prince alive,And yet scorne will not helpe me thinkes: My daughterMight have beene spar'd, there were enough beside.Tig.May I not prosper, but Shee's innocentAs morning light for me, and I dare sweareFor all the world.Lig.Why is she with you then?Can she waite on you better then your men,Has she a gift in plucking off your stockings,Can she make Cawdles well, or cut your Comes,Why doe you keepe her with you? For your QueeneI know you doe contemne her, so should IAnd every Subject else thinke much at it.Tig.Let um thinke much, but tis more firme then earthThou seest thy Queene there.Lig.Then have I made a faire hand, I cald her Whore,If I shall speake now as her Father, I cannot chuseBut greatly rejoyce that she shall be a Queene: but ifI should speake to you as a Statesman shee were more fitTo be your Whore.Tig.Get you about your businesse to Arbaces,Now you talke idlie.Lig.Yes Sir, I will goe.And shall she be a Queene, she had more witThen her old Father when she ranne away:Shall shee be a Queene, now by my troth tis fine,Ile dance out of all measure at her wedding:Shall I not Sir?Tigr.Yes marrie shalt thou.Lig.He make these witherd Kexes beare my bodieTwo houres together above ground.Tigr.Nay, goe, my businesse requires haste.Lig.Good God preserve you, you are an excellent King.Spa.Farewell good Father.Lig.Farewell sweete vertuous Daughter;I never was so joyfull in my life,That I remember: shall shee be a Queene?Now I perceive a man may weepe for joy,I had thought they had lied that said so.

Exit.

Tig.Come my deare love.Spa.But you may see anotherMay alter that againe.Tigr.Urge it no more;I have made up a new strong constancie,Not to be shooke with eyes; I know I haveThe passions of a man, but if I meeteWith any subject that shall hold my eyesMore firmely then is fit; Ile thinke of thee,and runne away from it: let that suffice.

Exeunt.

Enter Bacurius, and a servant.

Bac.Three gentlemen without to speake with me?Ser.Yes Sir.Bac.Let them come in.Ser.They are enterd Sir already.

Enter Bessus, and Swordmen.

Bac.Now fellowes, your busines, are these the Gentlemen.Bess.My Lord I have made bold to bring these Gentlemen myFriends ath' sword along with me.Bac.I am afraid youle fight then.Bes.My good Lord I will not, your Lordship is mistaken,Feare not Lord.Bac.Sir I am sorrie fort.Bes.I can aske no more in honor, Gentlemen you heare my Lord is sorrie.

Bac.

Not that I have beaten you, but beaten one that will be beaten: one whose dull bodie will require launcing: As surfeits doe the diet, spring and full. Now to your swordmen, what come they for good Captaine Stock-fish?

Bes.

It seemes your Lordship has forgot my name.

Bac.

No, nor your nature neither, though they are things fitter I confesse for anything, then my remembrance, or anie honestmans, what shall these billets doe, be pilde up in my Wood-yard?

Bes.

Your Lordship holds your mirth still, God continue it: but for these Gentlemen they come.

Bac.

To sweare you are a Coward, spare your Booke, I doe beleeve it.

Bes.

Your Lordship still drawes wide, they come to vouch under their valiant hands, I am no Coward.

Bac.

That would be a shew indeed worth seeing: sirra be wise and take money for this motion, travell with it, and where the name of Bessus has been knowne, or a good Coward stirring, twill yeeld more then a tilting. This will prove more beneficiall to you, if you be thriftie, then your Captaineship, and more naturall; Men of most valiant hands is this true?

2.It is so most renowned,Tis somewhat strange.

1.

Lord, it is strange, yet true; wee have examined from your Lordships foote there to this mans head, the nature of the beatings; and we doe find his honour is come off cleane, and sufficient: This as our swords shall helpe us.

Bac.

You are much bound to you bilbow-men, I am glad you are straight again Captaine: twere good you would thinke some way to gratifie them, they have undergone a labour for you Bessus, would have puzzled hercules, with all his valour.

2.

Your Lordship must understand we are no men ath' Law, that take pay for our opinions: it is sufficient wee have cleer'd our friend.

Bac.

Yet here is something due, which I as toucht in conscience will discharge Captaine; Ile pay this rent for you.

Bess.

Spare your selfe my good Lord; my brave friends aime at nothing but the vertue.

Bac.

Thats but a cold discharge Sir for their paines.

2.

O Lord, my good Lord.

Bac.

Be not so modest, I will give you something.

Bes.

They shall dine with your Lordship, that's sufficient.

Bac.

Something in hand the while; ye rogues, ye apple-squiers: doe you come hether with your botled valour, your windie frothe, to limit out my beatings.

1.

I doe beseech your Lordship.

2.

O good Lord.

Bac.

Sfoote, what a many of beaten slaves are here? get me a cudgell sirra, and a tough one.

2.

More of your foot, I doe beseech your Lordship.

Bac.

You shall, you shall dog, and your fellow beagle.

1.

A this side good my Lord.

Bac.

Off with your swords, for if you hurt my foote, Ile have you fleade you rascals.

1.

Mines off my Lord.

2.

I beseech your Lordship stay a little, my strap's tied to my codpiece point: Now when you please.

Bac.

Captaine, these are your valiant friends, you long for a little too?

Bess.

I am verie well, I humblie thanke your Lordship.

Bac.

Whats that in your pocket slave, my key you mungrell? thy buttocks cannot be so hard, out with't quicklie.

2.

Here tis Sir, a small piece of Artillerie, that a gentleman a deare friend of your Lordships sent me with to get it mended Sir; for it you marke, the nose is somewhat loose.

Bac.

A friend of mine you rascall, I was never wearier of doing nothing, then kicking these two foote-bals.

Ser.

Heres a good cudgell Sir.

Bac.

It comes too late; I am wearie, prethee doe thou beate um.

2.My Lord this is foule play ifaith, to put a fresh man upon us;Men, are but men.

Bac.

That jest shall save your bones, up with your rotten regiment, and be gone; I had rather thresh, then be bound to kicke these raskals, till they cride hold: Bessus you may put your hand to them now, and then you are quit. Farewell, as you like this, pray visit mee againe, twill keepe me in good breath.

2.

Has a divellish hard foote, I never felt the like.

1.

Nor I, and yet Ime sure I ha felt a hundred.

2.

If he kicke thus ith dog-daies, he will be drie founderd: what cure now Captaine, besides oyle of bayes?

Bess.

Why well enough I warrant you, you can goe.

2.

Yes, God be thanked; but I feele a shrewd ach, sure he has sprang my huckle bone.

1.

I ha lost a haunch.

Bess.

A little butter friend, a little butter; butter and parselie is a soveraigne matter: probatum est.

1.

Captaine, we must request your hands now to our honours.

Bess.

Yes marrie shall ye, and then let all the world come, we are valiant to our selves, and theres an end.

1.

Nay, then we must be valiant; O my ribbes.

2.

O my small guts, a plague upon these sharpe toe'd shooes, they are murderers.

Exeunt.

Enter Arbaces with his Sword drawne.

Arb.It is resolv'd, I bore it whilst I could,I can no more, Hell open all thy gates,And I will thorough them; if they be shut,Ile batter um, but I will find the placeWhere the most damn'd have dwelling; ere I end,Amongst them all they shall not have a sinne,But I may call it mine: I must beginneWith murder of my friend, and so goe onTo an incestuous ravishing, and endMy life and sinnes with a forbidden blowUpon my selfe.

Enter Mardonius.

Mardo.What Tragedie is here?That hand was never wont to draw a Sword,But it cride dead to something:

Arb.

Mar. have you bid Gobrius come?

Mar.

How doe you Sir?

Arb.

Well, is he comming?

Mar.Why Sir are you thus?Why does your hand proclaime a lawlesse warreAgainst your selfe?Arb.Thou answerest me one question with another,Is Gobrius comming?Mar.Sir he is.Arb.Tis well.Mar.I can forbeare your questions then, be goneSir, I have markt.Arb.Marke lesse, it troubles you and me.Mar.You are more variable then you were.Arb.It may be so.Mar.To day no Hermit could be humblierThen you were to us all.Arb.And what of this?Mar.And now you take new rage into your eies,As you would looke us all out of the Land.Arb.I doe confesse it, will that satisfie,I prethee get thee gone.Mar.Sir I will speake.Arb.Will ye?Mar.It is my dutie,I feare you will kill your selfe: I am a subject,And you shall doe me wrong in't: tis my cause,And I may speake.Arb.Thou art not traind in sinne,It seemes Mardonius: kill my selfe, by heavenI will not doe it yet; and when I will,Ile tell thee then: I shall be such a creature,That thou wilt give me leave without a word.There is a method in mans wickednesse,It growes up by degrees; I am not comeSo high as killing of my selfe, there areA hundred thousand sinnes twixt me and it,Which I must doe, I shall come toot at last;But take my oath not now, be satisfied,And get thee hence.Mar.I am sorrie tis so ill.Arb.Be sorrie then,True sorrow is alone, grieve by thy selfe.Mar.I pray you let mee see your sword put upBefore I goe; Ile leave you then.Arb.Why so?What follie is this in thee? is it notAs apt to mischiefe as it was before?Can I not reach it thinkest thou? these are toyesFor children to be pleas'd with, and not men;Now I am safe you thinke: I would the bookeOf Fate were here, my sword is not so sure,But I should get it out, and mangle thatThat all the destinies should quite forgetTheir fix't decrees, and hast to make us newFarre other Fortunes mine could not be worse,Wilt thou now leave me?Mar.God put into your bosome temperate thoughts,He leave you though I feare.

Exit.

Arb.Goe, thou art honest,Why should the hastie errors of my youthBe so unpardonable, to draw a sinneHelpelesse upon me?

Enter Gobrius.

Gob.There is the King, now it is ripe.Arb.Draw neere thou guiltie man,That are the author of the loathedst crimeFive ages have brought forth, and heare me speakeCurses incurable, and all the evilsMans bodie or his spirit can receiveBe with thee.Gob.Why Sir doe you curse me thus?Arb.Why doe I curse thee, if there be a manSubtill in curses, that exceedes the rest,His worst wish on thee. Thou hast broke my hart.Gob.How Sir? Have I preserv'd you from a childe,From all the arrowes, malice or ambitionCould shoot at you, and have I this for pay?Arb.Tis true thou didst preserve me, and in thatWert crueller then hardned murderersOf infants and their mothers; thou didst save meOnely till thou hadst studdied out a wayHow to destroy me cunningly thy selfe:This was a curious way of torturing.Gob.What doe you meane?Arb.Thou knowst the evils thou hast done to me,Dost thou remember all those witching lettersThou sentst unto me to Armenia,Fild with the praise of my beloved Sister,Where thou extolst her beautie; what had ITo doe with that, what could her beautie beTo me, and thou didst write how well shee lov'd me,Doest thou remember this: so that I doatedSomething before I saw her.Gob.This is true.Arb.Is it, and I when I was returnd thou knowstThou didst pursue it, till thou woundst mee intoSuch a strange, and unbeleev'd affection,As good men cannot thinke on.Gob.This I grant, I thinke I was the cause.Arb.Wert thou? Nay more, I thinke thou meantst it.Gob.Sir I hate a lie.As I love God and honestie, I did:It was my meaning.Arb.Be thine owne sad Judge,A further condemnation will not need:Prepare thy selfe to die.Gob.Why Sir to die?Arb.Why wouldst thou live, was ever yet offenderSo impudent, that had a thought of mercyAfter confession of a crime like this?Get out I cannot, where thou hurlst me in,But I can take revenge, that's all the sweetnesseLeft for me.Gob.Now is the time, heare me but speake.Arb.No, yet I will be farre more mercifullThen thou wert to me; thou didst steale into me,And never gavest me warning: so much timeAs I give thee now, had prevented theeFor ever. Notwithstanding all thy sinnes,If thou hast hope, that there is yet a prayerTo save thee, turne, and speake it to your selfe.Gob.Sir, you shall know your sinnes before you doe umIf you kill me.Arb.I will not stay then.Gob.Know you kill your Father.Arb.How?Gob.You kill your Father.Arb.My Father? though I know it for a lieMade out of feare to save thy stained life:The verie reverence of the word comes crosse me,And ties mine arme downe.Gob.I will tell you that shall heighten you againe, I am thyFather, I charge thee heare me.Arb.If it should be so,As tis most false, and that I should be foundA bastard issue, the dispised fruiteOf lawlesse lust, I should no more admireAll my wilde passions: but another truthShall be wrung from thee: If I could come byThe spirit of paine, it should be powr'd on thee,Till thou allowest thy selfe more full of liesThen he that teaches thee.

Enter Arane.

Arane.Turne thee about,I come to speake to thee thou wicked man,Heare me thou Tyrant.Arb.I will turne to thee,Heare me thou Strumpet: I have blotted outThe name of mother, as thou hast thy shame.Ara.My shame, thou hast lesse shame then anything:Why dost thou keepe my daughter in a prison?Why dost thou call her Sister, and doe this?Arb.Cease thou strange impudence, and answere quickly,If thou contemn'st me, this will aske an answere,And have it.Ara.Helpe me gentle Gobrius.Arb.Guilt dare not helpe guilt, though they grow togetherIn doing ill, yet at the punishmentThey sever, and each flies the noyse of other,Thinke not of helpe, answere.Ara.I will, to what?Arb.To such a thing as if it be a truth,Thinke what a creature thou hast made thy selfe,That didst not shame to doe, what I must blushOnely to aske thee: tell me who I am,Whose sonne I am, without all circumstance;Be thou as hastie, as my Sword will beIf thou refusest.Ara.Why you are his sonne.Arb.His sonne?Sweare, sweare, thou worse then woman damn'd.Ara.By all thats good you are.Arb.Then art thou all that ever was knowne bad. Now isThe cause of all my strange misfortunes come to light:What reverence expects thou from a childeTo bring forth which thou hast offended Heaven,Thy husband and the Land: Adulterous witchI know now why thou wouldst have poyson'd me,I was thy lust which thou wouldst have forgot:Thou wicked mother of my sinnes, and me,Shew me the way to the inheritanceI have by thee: which is a spacious worldOf impious acts, that I may soone possesse it:Plagues rott thee, as thou liv'st, and such diseasesAs use to pay lust, recompence thy deed.Gob.You doe not know why you curse thus.Arb.Too well:You are a paire of Vipers, and beholdThe Serpent you have got; there is no beastBut if he knew, it has a pedigreeAs brave as mine, for they have more discents,And I am every way as beastly got,As farre without the compasse of a law,As they.Ara.You spend your rage, and words in vaine,And raile upon a guesse: heare us a little.Arb.No I will never heare, but talke awayMy breath, and die.Gob.Why but you are no Bastard.Arb.Howe's that?Ara.Nor childe of mine.Arb.Still you goe on in wonders to me.Gob.Pray be more patient, I may bring comfort to you.Arb.I will kneele,And heare with the obedience of a childe;Good Father speake, I doe acknowledge you,So you bring comfort.Gob.First know our last King your supposed FatherWas olde and feeble when he marryed her,And almost all the Land as shee past hopeOf issue from him.Arb.Therefore shee tooke leaveTo play the whoore, because the King was old:Is this the comfort?Ara.What will you find outTo give me satisfaction, when you findHow you have injur'd me: let fire consume mee,If ever I were whore.Gob.Forbeare these starts,Or I will leave you wedded to despaire,As you are now: if you can find a temper,My breath shall be a pleasant westerne wind,That cooles, and blastes not.Arb.Bring it out good Father,He lie, artd listen here as reverentlieAs to an Angell: If I breathe too loude,Tell me; for I would be as still as night.Gob.Our King I say was old, and this our QueeneDesired to bring an heire; but yet her husbandShee thought was past it, and to be dishonestI thinke shee would not; if shee would have beene,The truth is, shee was watcht so narrowlie,And had so slender opportunitie,Shee hardly could have beene: But yet her cunningFound out this way; shee fain'd her selfe with child,And postes were sent in haste throughout the Land,And God was humbly thankt in every Church,That so had blest the Queen, and prayers were madeFor her safe going, and deliverie:Shee fain'd now to grow bigger, and perceiv'dThis hope of issue made her feard, and broughtA farre more large respect from everie man.And saw her power increase, and was resolv'd,Since shee believ'd shee could not have't indeede;At least shee would be thought to have a child.Arb.Doe I not heare it well: nay, I will makeNo noise at all; but pray you to the point,Quicke as you can.Gob.Now when the time was full,Shee should be brought abed; I had a sonneBorne, which was you: This the Queene hearing of,Mov'd me to let her have you, and such reasonsShee shewed me, as shee knew would tieMy secresie: shee sware you should be King;And to be short, I did deliver youUnto her, and pretended you were dead;And in mine owne house kept a Funerall,And had an emptie coffin put in earth:That night the Queene fain'd hastilie to labour,And by a paire of women of her owne,Which shee had charm'd, shee made the world believeShee was deliver'd of you: you grew upAs the Kings sonne, till you were six yeere olde;Then did the King die, and did leave to meProtection of the Realme; and contrarieTo his owne expectation, left this QueeneTruly with Childe indeed of the faire PrincessePanthea: Then shee could have torne her heire,And did alone to me yet durst not speakeIn publike; for shee knew shee should be foundA Traytor, and her talke would have beene thoughtMadnesse or any thing rather then truth:This was the onely cause why shee did seekeTo poyson you, and I to keepe you safe:And this the reason why I sought to kindleSome sparke of love in you to faire Panthea,That shee might get part of her right agen.Arb.And have you made an end now, is this all?If not, I will be still till I am aged,Till all my heires are silver.Gob.This is all.Arb.And is it true say you Maddam?Ara.Yes, God knowes it is most true.Arb.Panthea then is not my Sister.Gob.No.Arb.But can you prove this?[Gob.]If you will give consent: else who dare goe about it.Arb.Give consent?Why I will have them all that know it racktTo get this from um: All that waites withoutCome in, what ere you be come in, and bePartakers of my Joy: O you are welcome.

Ent. Mar: Bessus, and others.