Philaster; Or, Love Lies a Bleeding

King. Sir, I must dearly chide you for this looseness, You have wrong'd a worthy Lady; but no more, Conduct him to my lodging, and to bed.

Cle. Get him another wench, and you bring him to bed in deed.Di. 'Tis strange a man cannot ride a Stagg                Or two, to breath himself, without a warrant:                If this geer hold, that lodgings be search'd thus,                Pray heaven we may lie with our own wives in safety,                That they be not by some trick of State mistaken.

[ Enter with Megra.

King. Now Lady of honour, where's your honour now?                No man can fit your palat, but the Prince.                Thou most ill shrowded rottenness; thou piece                Made by a Painter and a Pothecary;                Thou troubled sea of lust; thou wilderness,                Inhabited by wild thoughts; thou swoln cloud                Of Infection; them ripe Mine of all Diseases;                Thou all Sin, all Hell, and last, all Devils, tell me,                Had you none to pull on with your courtesies,                But he that must be mine, and wrong my Daughter?                By all the gods, all these, and all the Pages,                And all the Court shall hoot thee through the Court,                Fling rotten Oranges, make ribald Rimes,                And sear thy name with Candles upon walls:                Do you laugh Lady Venus?Meg. Faith Sir, you must pardon me;                I cannot chuse but laugh to see you merry.                If you do this, O King; nay, if you dare do it;                By all these gods you swore by, and as many                More of my own; I will have fellows, and such                Fellows in it, as shall make noble mirth;                The Princess, your dear 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;                Nay will dishonour her. I know the boy                She keeps, a handsome boy; about eighteen:                Know what she does with him, where, and when.                Come Sir, you put me to a womans madness,                The glory of a fury; and if I do not                Do it to the height?King. What boy is this she raves at?Meg. Alas! good minded Prince, you know not these things?                I am loth to reveal 'em. Keep this fault                As you would keep your health from the hot air                Of the corrupted people, or by heaven,                I will not fall alone: what I have known,                Shall be as publick as a print: all tongues                Shall speak it as they do the language they                Are born in, as free and commonly; I'le set it                Like a prodigious star for all to gaze at,                And so high and glowing, that other Kingdoms far                and Forreign                Shall read it there, nay travel with it, till they find                No tongue to make it more, nor no more people;                And then behold the fall of your fair Princess.King. Has she a boy?Cle. So please your Grace I have seen a boy wait                On her, a fair boy.King. Go get you to your quarter:                For this time I'le study to forget you.Meg. Do you study to forget me, and I'le study                To forget you.

[Ex. King, Meg. and Guard.

Cle. Why here's a Male spirit for Hercules, if ever there be nine worthies of women, this wench shall ride astride, and be their Captain.

Di. Sure she hath a garrison of Devils in her tongue, she uttereth such balls of wild-fire. She has so netled the King, that all the Doctors in the Country will scarce cure him. That boy was a strange found out antidote to cure her infection: that boy, that Princess boy: that brave, chast, vertuous Ladies boy: and a fair boy, a well spoken boy: All these considered, can make nothing else—but there I leave you Gentlemen.

Thra. Nay we'l go wander with you.[Exeunt

Actus Tertius. Scena Prima

_Enter _Cle. Di. _and _Thra.

Cle. Nay doubtless 'tis true.Di. I, and 'tis the gods                That rais'd this Punishment to scourge the King                With his own issue: Is it not a shame                For us, that should write noble in the land;                For us, that should be freemen, to behold                A man, that is the bravery of his age,                Philaster, prest down from his Royal right,                By this regardless King; and only look,                And see the Scepter ready to be cast                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 born a slave,                In that which should be his most noble part,                His mind?Thra. That man that would not stir with you,                To aid Philaster, let the gods forget,                That such a Creature walks upon the earth.Cle. Philaster is too backward in't himself;                The Gentry do await it, and the people                Against their nature are all bent for him,                And like a field of standing Corn, that's mov'd                With a stiff gale, their heads bow all one way.Di. The only cause that draws Philaster back                From this attempt, is the fair Princess love,                Which he admires and we can now confute.Thra. Perhaps he'l not believe it.Di. Why Gentlemen, 'tis without question so.

Cle. I 'tis past speech, she lives dishonestly. But how shall we, if he be curious, work Upon his faith?

Thra. We all are satisfied within our selves.

Di. Since it is true, and tends to his own good, I'le make this new report to be my knowledge, I'le say I know it, nay, I'le swear I saw it.

Cle. It will be best.Thra. 'Twill move him.

[ Enter Philaster.

Di. Here he comes. Good morrow to your honour, We have spent some time in seeking you.

Phi. My worthy friends,                You that can keep your memories to know                Your friend in miseries, and cannot frown                On men disgrac'd for vertue: A good day                Attend you all. What service may I do worthy your                acceptation?Di. My good Lord,                We come to urge that vertue which we know                Lives in your breast, forth, rise, and make a head,                The Nobles, and the people are all dull'd                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.Phi. How honourable is this love in you                To me that have deserv'd none? Know my friends                (You that were born to shame your poor Philaster,                With too much courtesie) I could afford                To melt my self in thanks; but my designs                Are not yet ripe, suffice it, that ere long                I shall imploy your loves: but yet the time is short of                what I would.Di. The time is fuller Sir, than you expect;                That which hereafter will not perhaps be reach'd                By violence, may now be caught; As for the King,                You know the people have long hated him;                But now the Princess, whom they lov'd.Phi. Why, what of her?Di. Is loath'd as much as he.Phi. By what strange means?Di. She's known a Whore.Phi. Thou lyest.Di. My Lord—Phi. Thou lyest,

[Offers to draw and is held.

                And thou shalt feel it; I had thought thy mind                Had been of honour; thus to rob a Lady                Of her good name, is an infectious sin,                Not to be pardon'd; be it false as hell,                'Twill never be redeem'd, if it be sown                Amongst the people, fruitful to increase                All evil they shall hear. Let me alone,                That I may cut off falshood, whilst it springs.                Set hills on hills betwixt me and the man                That utters this, and I will scale them all,                And from the utmost top fall on his neck,                Like Thunder from a Cloud.Di. This is most strange;                Sure he does love her.Phi. I do love fair truth:                She is my Mistress, and who injures her,                Draws vengeance from me Sirs, let go my arms.Thra. Nay, good my Lord be patient.Cle. Sir, remember this is your honour'd friend,                That comes to do his service, and will shew you                Why he utter'd this.Phi. I ask you pardon Sir,                My zeal to truth made me unmannerly:                Should I have heard dishonour spoke of you,                Behind your back untruly, I had been                As much distemper'd, and enrag'd as now.Di. But this my Lord is truth.Phi. O say not so, good Sir forbear to say so,                'Tis the truth that all womenkind is false;                Urge it no more, it is impossible;                Why should you think the Princess light?Di. Why, she was taken at it.

Phi. 'Tis false, O Heaven 'tis false: it cannot be, Can it? Speak Gentlemen, for love of truth speak; Is't possible? can women all be damn'd?

Di. Why no, my Lord.Phi. Why then it cannot be.Di. And she was taken with her boy.Phi. What boy?Di. A Page, a boy that serves her.Phi. Oh good gods, a little boy?Di. I, know you him my Lord?Phi. Hell and sin know him? Sir, you are deceiv'd;                I'le reason it a little coldly with you;                If she were lustful, would she take a boy,                That knows not yet desire? she would have one                Should meet her thoughts and knows the sin he acts,                Which is the great delight of wickedness;                You are abus'd, and so is she, and I.Di. How you my Lord?

Phi. Why all the world's abus'd In an unjust report.

Di. Oh noble Sir your vertues Cannot look into the subtil thoughts of woman. In short my Lord, I took them: I my self.

Phi. Now all the Devils thou didst flie from my rage, Would thou hadst ta'ne devils ingendring plagues: When thou didst take them, hide thee from my eyes, Would thou hadst taken Thunder on thy breast, When thou didst take them, or been strucken dumb For ever: that this foul deed might have slept in silence.

Thra. Have you known him so ill temper'd?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,                Kiss not a chaste one. What friend bears a sword                To run me through?Di. Why, my Lord, are you so mov'd at this?Phi. When any falls from vertue I am distract,                I have an interest in't.Di. But good my Lord recal your self,                And think what's best to be done.Phi. I thank you. I will do it;                Please you to leave me, I'le consider of it:                Tomorrow I will find your lodging forth,                And give you answer                The readiest way.Di. All the gods direct you.Thra. He was extream impatient.Cle. It was his vertue and his noble mind.

[Exeunt Di. Cle. and Thra.

Phi. I had forgot to ask him where he took them,                I'le follow him. O that I had a sea                Within my breast, to quench the fire I feel;                More circumstances will but fan this fire;                It more afflicts me now, to know by whom                This deed is done, than simply that 'tis done:                And he that tells me this is honourable,                As far from lies, as she is far from truth.                O that like beasts, we could not grieve our selves,                With that we see not; Bulls and Rams will fight,                To keep their Females standing in their sight;                But take 'em from them, and you take at once                Their spleens away; and they will fall again                Unto their Pastures, growing fresh and fat,                And taste the waters of the springs as sweet,                As 'twas before, finding no start in sleep.                But miserable man; See, see you gods,

[Enter Bellario.

                He walks still; and the face you let him wear                When he was innocent, is still the same,                Not blasted; is this justice? Do you mean                To intrap mortality, that you allow                Treason so smooth a brow? I cannot now                Think he is guilty.Bell. Health to you my Lord;                The Princess doth commend her love, her life,                And this unto you.Phi. Oh Bellario,                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 attired me past my wish,                Past my desert, more fit for her attendant,                Though far unfit for me, who do attend.Phi. Thou art grown courtly boy. O let all women                That love black deeds, learn 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,                A maiden snow that melted with my looks.                Tell me my boy how doth the Princess use thee?                For I shall guess her love to me by that.Bell. Scarce like her servant, but as if I were                Something allied to her; or had preserv'd                Her life three times by my fidelity.                As mothers fond do use their only sons;                As I'de use one, that's left unto my trust,                For whom my life should pay, if he met harm,                So she does use me.Phi. Why, this is wondrous well:                But what kind language does she feed thee with?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 weep no more                For leaving you: shee'l see my services                Regarded; and such words of that soft strain,                That I am nearer weeping when she ends                Than ere she spake.Phi. This is much better still.Bell. Are you ill my Lord?Phi. Ill? No Bellario.Bell. Me thinks your words                Fall not from off your tongue so evenly,                Nor is there in your looks that quietness,                That I was wont to see.Phi. Thou art deceiv'd boy:                And she stroakes thy head?Bell. Yes.Phi. And she does clap thy cheeks?Bell. She does my Lord.Phi. And she does kiss thee boy? ha!Bell. How my Lord?Phi. She kisses thee?Bell. Not so my Lord.Phi. Come, come, I know she does.Bell. No by my life.Phi. Why then she does not love me; come, she does,                I had her do it; I charg'd her by all charms                Of love between us, by the hope of peace                We should enjoy, to yield thee all delights                Naked, as to her bed: I took her oath                Thou should'st enjoy her: Tell me gentle boy,                Is she not paralleless? Is not her breath                Sweet 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,                My heart held augury; you are abus'd,                Some villain has abus'd you; I do see                Whereto you tend; fall Rocks upon his head,                That put this to you; 'tis some subtil train,                To bring that noble frame of yours to nought.Phi. Thou think'st I will be angry with thee; Come                Thou shalt know all my drift, I hate her more,                Than I love happiness, and plac'd thee there,                To pry with narrow eyes into her deeds;                Hast thou discover'd? Is she fain to lust,                As I would wish her? Speak some comfort to me.Bell. My Lord, you did mistake the boy you sent:                Had she the lust of Sparrows, or of Goats;                Had she a sin that way, hid from the world,                Beyond the name of lust, I would not aid                Her base desires; but what I came to know                As servant to her, I would not reveal, to make                my life last ages.Phi. Oh my heart; this is a salve worse than the main disease.                Tell me thy thoughts; for I will know the least                That dwells within thee, or will rip thy heart                To know it; I will see thy thoughts as plain,                As I do know thy face.Bell. Why, so you do.                She is (for ought I know) by all the gods,                As chaste as Ice; but were she foul as Hell                And I did know it, thus; the breath of Kings,                The points of Swords, Tortures nor Bulls of Brass,                Should draw it from me.Phi. Then 'tis no time to dally with thee;                I will take thy life, for I do hate thee; I could curse                thee now.Bell. If you do hate you could not curse me worse;                The gods have not a punishment in store                Greater for me, than is your hate.Phi. Fie, fie, so young and so dissembling;                Tell me when and where thou di[d]st enjoy her,                Or let plagues fall on me, if I destroy thee not.Bell. Heaven knows 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 think                I'le love those pieces you have cut away,                Better than those that grow: and kiss these limbs,                Because you made 'em so.Phi. Fearest thou not death?                Can boys contemn that?

Bell. Oh, what boy is he Can be content to live to be a man That sees the best of men thus passionate, thus without reason?

Phi. Oh, but thou dost not know what 'tis to die.Bell. Yes, I do know my Lord;                'Tis less than to be born; a lasting sleep,                A quiet resting from all jealousie;                A thing we all pursue; I know besides,                It is but giving over of a game that must be lost.Phi. But there are pains, false boy,                For perjur'd souls; think but on these, and then                Thy heart will melt, and thou wilt utter all.Bell. May they fall all upon me whilst I live,                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 do?                Why, who can but believe him? He does swear                So earnestly, that if it were not true,                The gods would not endure him. Rise Bellario,                Thy protestations are so deep; and thou                Dost look so truly, when thou utterest them,                That though I [know] 'em false, as were my hopes,                I cannot urge thee further; but thou wert                To blame to injure me, for I must love                Thy honest looks, and take no revenge upon                Thy tender youth; A love from me to thee                Is firm, what ere thou dost: It troubles me                That I have call'd the blood out of thy cheeks,                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 tender'st me,                Let me not see thee.Bell. I will fly as far                As there is morning, ere I give distaste                To that most honour'd mind. But through these tears                Shed at my hopeless parting, I can see                A world of Treason practis'd upon you,                And her and me. Farewel for evermore;                If you shall hear, that sorrow struck me dead,                And after find me Loyal, let there be                A tear shed from you in my memorie,                And I shall rest at peace.

[Exit Bel.

Phi. Blessing be with thee,                What ever thou deserv'st. Oh, where shall I                Go bath thy body? Nature too unkind,                That made no medicine for a troubled mind!

[Exit. Phi.

Enter Arethuse.

Are. I marvel my boy comes not back again;                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 dear name                Was last spoke, and how, when I sigh'd, wept, sung,                And ten thousand such; I should be angry at his stay.

[_Enter _King.

King. What are your meditations? who attends you?

Are. None but my single self, I need no Guard, I do no wrong, nor fear none.

King. Tell me: have you not a boy?Are. Yes Sir.King. What kind of boy?Are. A Page, a waiting boy.King. A handsome boy?

Are. I think he be not ugly: Well qualified, and dutiful, I know him, I took him not for beauty.

King. He speaks, and sings and plays?Are. Yes Sir.King. About Eighteen?Are. I never ask'd his age.King. Is he full of service?Are. By your pardon why do you ask?King. Put him away.Are. Sir?

King. Put him away, h'as done you that good service, Shames me to speak of.

Are. Good Sir let me understand you.King. If you fear 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. Do not you blush to ask it? Cast him off,                Or I shall do the same to you. Y'are one                Shame with me, and so near unto my self,                That by my life, I dare not tell my self,                What you, my self have done.Are. What have I done my Lord?King. 'Tis a new language, that all love to learn,                The common people speak it well already,                They need no Grammer; understand me well,                There be foul whispers stirring; cast him off!                And suddenly do it: Farewel.

[Exit King.

Are. Where may a Maiden live securely free,                Keeping her Honour safe? Not with the living,                They feed upon opinions, errours, dreams,                And make 'em truths: they draw a nourishment                Out of defamings, grow upon disgraces,                And when they see a vertue fortified                Strongly above the battery of their tongues;                Oh, how they cast to sink it; and defeated                (Soul sick with Poyson) strike the Monuments                Where noble names lie sleeping: till they sweat,                And the cold Marble melt.

Enter Philaster.

Phi. Peace to your fairest thoughts, dearest Mistress.Are. Oh, my dearest servant I have a War within me.Phi. He must be more than man, that makes these Crystals                Run into Rivers; sweetest fair, the cause;                And as I am your slave, tied to your goodness,                Your creature made again from what I was,                And newly spirited, I'le right your honours.Are. Oh, my best love; that boy!Phi. What boy?Are. The pretty boy you gave me.Phi. What of him?Are. Must be no more mine.Phi. Why?Are. They are jealous of him.Phi. Jealous, who?Are. The King.Phi. Oh, my fortune,                Then 'tis no idle jealousie. Let him go.Are. Oh cruel, are you hard hearted too?                Who shall now tell you, how much I lov'd you;                Who shall swear it to you, and weep the tears I send?                Who shall now bring you Letters, Rings, Bracelets,                Lose his health in service? wake tedious nights                In stories of your praise? Who shall sing                Your crying Elegies? And strike a sad soul                Into senseless Pictures, and make them mourn?                Who shall take up his Lute, and touch it, till                He crown a silent sleep upon my eye-lid,                Making me dream and cry, Oh my dear, dear Philaster.Phi. Oh my heart!                Would he had broken thee, that made thee know                This Lady was not Loyal. Mistress, forget                The boy, I'le get thee a far better.Are. Oh never, never such a boy again, as my Bellario.Phi. 'Tis but your fond affection.Are. With thee my boy, farewel for ever,                All secrecy in servants: farewel faith,                And all desire to do well for it self:                Let all that shall succeed thee, for thy wrongs,                Sell and betray chast love.Phi. And all this passion for a boy?

Are. He was your boy, and you put him to me, And the loss of such must have a mourning for.