The Project Gutenberg eBook of A King, and No King, by Francis Beaumont and John Fletcher

Bessus, the King has made a fair hand on't, he has ended the Wars at a blow, would my sword had a close basket hilt to hold Wine, and the blade would make knives, for we shall have nothing but eating and drinking.

Faith Bessus, such Commanders as thou may; I had as lieve set thee Perdue for a pudding i'th' dark, as Alexander the Great.

I think thou lov'st 'em better than quarrelling Bessus, I'le say so much i'thy behalf, and yet thou 'rt valiant enough upon a retreat, I think thou wouldst kill any man that stopt thee if thou couldst.

Well, I believe there are better souldiers than I, that never saw two Princes fight in lists.

By my troth I think so too Bessus, many a thousand, but certainly all that are worse than thou have seen as much.

Yes, if he had not ended the wars: I'me glad thou dar'st talk of such dangerous businesses.

See how thy blood curdles at this, I think thou couldst be contented to be beaten i'this passion.

Let me not live, if I do not think 'tis a braver piece of service than that I'me so fam'd for.

I'me e'en heartily glad on't, I have been with thee e're since thou cam'st to th'wars, and this is the first word that ever I heard on't, prethee who fames thee.

I do not know how thou mayst wait of a man in's Chamber, or thy agility of shifting of a Trencher, but otherwise no service good Bessus.

If I were not a very merrily dispos'd man, what would become of thee? one that had but a grain of choler in the whole composition of his body, would send thee of an errand to the worms for putting thy name upon that field: did not I beat thee there i'th' head o'th' Troops with a Trunchion, because thou wouldst needs run away with thy company, when we should charge the enemy?

Thou knowest, and so do I, thou meanedst to flie, and thy fear making thee mistake, thou ranst upon the enemy, and a hot charge thou gav'st, as I'le do thee right, thou art furious in running away, and I think, we owe thy fear for our victory; If I were the King, and were sure thou wouldst mistake alwaies and run away upon th' enemy, thou shouldst be General by this light.

No more such words dear Bessus, for though I have ever known thee a coward, and therefore durst never strike thee, yet if thou proceedest, I will allow thee valiant, and beat thee.

He is so Bessus, I wonder how thou cam'st to know it. But if thou wer't a man of understanding, I would tell thee, he is vain-glorious, and humble, and angry, and patient, and merry and dull, and joyful and sorrowful in extremity in an hour: Do not think me thy friend for this, for if I ear'd who knew it, thou shouldst not hear it Bessus. Here he is with his prey in his foot.

  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'recome him? They that plac'd me here,
  Intended it an honour large enough, (though he
  For the most valiant living, but to dare oppose me single,
  Lost the day. What should afflict you, you are as free as I,
  To be my prisoner, is to be more free
  Than you were formerly, and never think
  The man I held worthy to combate me
  Shall be us'd servilely: Thy ransom is
  To take my only Sister to thy Wife.
  A heavy one Tigranes, for she is
  A Lady, that the neighbour Princes send
  Blanks to fetch home. I have been too unkind
  To her Tigranes, she but nine years old
  I left her, and ne're saw her since, your wars
  Have held me long and taught me though a youth,
  The way to victory, she was a pretty child,
  Then I was little better, but now fame
  Cries loudly on her, and my messengers
  Make me believe she is a miracle;
  She'l make you shrink, as I did, with a stroak
  But of her eye Tigranes.

  Is't the course of Iberia to use their prisoners thus?
  Had fortune thrown my name above Arbace,
  I should not thus have talk'd Sir, in Armenia
  We hold it base, you should have kept your temper
  Till you saw home again, where 'tis the fashion
  Perhaps to brag.

  Be you my witness earth, need I to brag,
  Doth not this captive Prince speak
  Me sufficiently, and all the acts
  That I have wrought upon his suffering Land;
  Should I then boast! where lies that foot of ground
  Within his whole Realm, that I have not past,
  Fighting and conquering; Far then from me
  Be ostentation. I could tell the world
  How I have laid his Kingdom desolate
  By this sole Arm prop't by divinity,
  Stript him out of his glories, and have sent
  The pride of all his youth to people graves,
  And made his Virgins languish for their Loves,
  If I would brag, should I that have the power
  To teach the Neighbour world humility,
  Mix with vain-glory?

Tigranes, Nay did I but take delight To stretch my deeds as others do, on words, I could amaze my hearers.

  But he shall wrong his and my modesty,
  That thinks me apt to boast after any act
  Fit for a good man to do upon his foe.
  A little glory in a souldiers mouth
  Is well-becoming, be it far from vain.

  I offer you my Sister, and you answer
  I do insult, a Lady that no suite
  Nor treasure, nor thy Crown could purchase thee,
  But that thou fought'st with me.

  Though this be worse
  Than that you spake before, it strikes me not;
  But that you think to overgrace me with
  The marriage of your Sister, troubles me.
  I would give worlds for ransoms were they mine,
  Rather than have her.

  See if I insult
  That am the Conquerour, and for a ransom
  Offer rich treasure to the Conquered,
  Which he refuses, and I bear his scorn:
  It cannot be self-flattery to say,
  The Daughters of your Country set by her,
  Would see their shame, run home and blush to death,
  At their own foulness; yet she is not fair,
  Nor beautiful, those words express her not,
  They say her looks have something excellent,
  That wants a name: yet were she odious,
  Her birth deserves the Empire of the world,
  Sister to such a brother, that hath ta'ne
  Victory prisoner, and throughout the earth,
  Carries her bound, and should he let her loose,
  She durst not leave him; Nature did her wrong,
  To Print continual conquest on her cheeks,
  And make no man worthy for her to taste
  But me that am too near her, and as strangely
  She did for me, but you will think I brag.

I do I'le be sworn. Thy valour and thy passions sever'd, would have made two excellent fellows in their kinds: I know not whether I should be sorry thou art so valiant, or so passionate, wou'd one of 'em were away.

  Do I refuse her that I doubt her worth?
  Were she as vertuous as she would be thought,
  So perfect that no one of her own sex
  Could find a want, had she so tempting fair,
  That she could wish it off for damning souls,
  I would pay any ransom, twenty lives
  Rather than meet her married in my bed.
  Perhaps I have a love, where I have fixt
  Mine eyes not to be mov'd, and she on me,
  I am not fickle.

  Is that all the cause?
  Think you, you can so knit your self in love
  To any other, that her searching sight
  Cannot dissolve it? So before you tri'd,
  You thought your self a match for me in [f]ight,
  Trust me Tigranes, she can do as much
  In peace, as I in war, she'l conquer too,
  You shall see if you have the power to stand
  The force of her swift looks, if you dislike,
  I'le send you home with love, and name your ransom
  Some other way, but if she be your choice,
  She frees you: To Iberia you must.

  Sir, I have learn'd a prisoners sufferance,
  And will obey, but give me leave to talk
  In private with some friends before I go.

  Some to await him forth, and see him safe,
  But let him freely send for whom he please,
  And none dare to disturb his conference,
  I will not have him know what bondage is,

  Till he be free from me. This Prince, Mardonius,
  Is full of wisdom, valour, all the graces
  Man can receive.

  And yet I conquer'd him, and could have don't
  Hadst thou joyn'd with him, though thy name in Arms
  Be great; must all men that are vertuous
  Think suddenly to match themselves with me?
  I conquered him and bravely, did I not?

That you would not have spy'd your best advantages, for your Majesty in my opinion lay too high, methinks, under favour, you should have lain thus.

And then, if please your Majesty to remember, at one time, by my troth I wisht my self wi'you.

To put your Majesty in mind of an occasion; you lay thus, and Tigranes falsified a blow at your Leg, which you by doing thus avoided; but if you had whip'd up your Leg thus, and reach'd him on the ear, you had made the Blood-Royal run down his head.

  Talkt enough?
  Will you confine my word? by heaven and earth,
  I were much better be a King of beasts
  Than such a people: if I had not patience
  Above a God, I should be call'd a Tyrant
  Throughout the world. They will offend to death
  Each minute: Let me hear thee speak again,
  And thou art earth again: why this is like
  Tigranes speech that needs would say I brag'd.
  Bessus, he said I brag'd.

  Why dost thou laugh?
  By all the world, I'm grown ridiculous
  To my own Subjects: Tie me in a Chair
  And jest at me, but I shall make a start,
  And punish some that others may take heed
  How they are haughty; who will answer me?
  He said I boasted, speak Mardonius,
  Did I? He will not answer, O my temper!
  I give you thanks above, that taught my heart
  Patience, I can endure his silence; what will none
  Vouchsafe to give me answer? am I grown
  To such a poor respect, or do you mean
  To break my wind? Speak, speak, some one of you,
  Or else by heaven.

  Monstrous,
  I cannot be heard out, they cut me off,
  As if I were too saucy, I will live
  In woods, and talk to trees, they will allow me
  To end what I begin. The meanest Subject
  Can find a freedom to discharge his soul
  And not I, now it is a time to speak,
  I hearken.

  I mean not you,
  Did not I stop you once? but I am grown
  To balk, but I defie, let another speak.

  Thou drawest thy words,
  That I must wait an hour, where other men
  Can hear in instants; throw your words away,
  Quick, and to purpose, I have told you this.

  Wilt thou devour me? this is such a rudeness
  As you never shew'd me, and I want
  Power to command too, else Mardonius
  Would speak at my request; were you my King,
  I would have answered at your word Mardonius,
  I pray you speak, and truely, did I boast?

You take all great care what will offend me,
When you dare to utter such things as these.

  You told Tigranes, you had won his Land,
  With that sole arm propt by Divinity:
  Was not that bragging, and a wrong to us,
  That daily ventured lives?

  O that thy name
  Were as great, as mine, would I had paid my wealth,
  It were as great, as I might combate thee,
  I would through all the Regions habitable
  Search thee, and having found thee, wi'my Sword
  Drive thee about the world, till I had met
  Some place that yet mans curiosity
  Hath mist of; there, there would I strike thee dead:
  Forgotten of mankind, such Funeral rites
  As beasts would give thee, thou shouldst have.

  There I would make you know 'twas this sole arm.
  I grant you were my instruments, and did
  As I commanded you, but 'twas this arm
  Mov'd you like wheels, it mov'd you as it pleas'd.
  Whither slip you now? what are you too good
  To wait on me (puffe,) I had need have temper
  That rule such people; I have nothing left
  At my own choice, I would I might be private:
  Mean men enjoy themselves, but 'tis our curse,
  To have a tumult that out of their loves
  Will wait on us, whether we will or no;
  Go get you gone: Why here they stand like death,
  My words move nothing.

  I pray you leave me Sirs, I'me proud of this,
  That you will be intreated from my sight:
  Why now the[y] leave me all: Mardonius.

  Will you leave me quite alone? me thinks
  Civility should teach you more than this,
  If I were but your friend: Stay here and wait.

  Why, you would now think much
  To be denied, but I can scar[c]e intreat
  What I would have: do, speak.

Sir, that I have ever lov'd you, my sword hath spoken for me; that I do, if it be doubted, I dare call an oath, a great one to my witness; and were you not my King, from amongst men, I should have chose you out to love above the rest: nor can this challenge thanks, for my own sake I should have done it, because I would have lov'd the most deserving man, for so you are.

  Alas Mardonius, rise you shall not kneel,
  We all are souldiers, and all venture lives:
  And where there is no difference in mens worths,
  Titles are jests, who can outvalue thee?
  Mardonius thou hast lov'd me, and hast wrong,
  Thy love is not rewarded, but believe
  It shall be better, more than friend in arms,
  My Father, and my Tutor, good Mardonius.

And so I will; speak freely, for from thee
Nothing can come but worthy things and true.

Though you have all this worth, you hold some qualities that do
Eclipse your vertues.

Yes, your passions, which are so manifold, that they appear even in this: when I commend you, you hug me for that truth: but when I speak your faults, you make a start, and flie the hearing but.

When you commend me? O that I should live To need such commendations: If my deeds Blew not my praise themselves about the earth, I were most wretched: spare your idle praise: If thou didst mean to flatter, and shouldst utter Words in my praise, that thou thoughtst impudence, My deeds should make 'em modest: when you praise I hug you? 'tis so [false], that wert thou worthy thou shouldst receive a death, a glorious death from me: but thou shalt understand thy lies, for shouldst thou praise me into Heaven, and there leave me inthron'd, I would despise thee though as much as now, which is as much as dust because I see thy envie.

I will, and after call unto the winds, for they shall lend as large an ear as I to what you utter: speak.

Would you but leave these hasty tempers, which I do not say take from you all your worth, but darken 'em, then you will shine indeed.

Yet I would have you keep some passions, lest men should take you for a God, your vertues are such.

I never understood the word, were you no King, and free from these moods, should I choose a companion for wit and pleasure, it should be you; or for honesty to enterchange my bosom with, it should be you; or wisdom to give me counsel, I would pick out you; or valour to defend my reputation, still I should find you out; for you are fit to fight for all the world, if it could come in question: Now I have spoke, consider to your self, find out a use; if so, then what shall fall to me is not material.

Is not material? more than ten such lives, as mine, Mardonius: it was nobly said, thou hast spoke truth, and boldly such a truth as might offend another. I have been too passionate and idle, thou shalt see a swift amendment, but I want those parts you praise me for: I fight for all the world? Give me a sword, and thou wilt go as far beyond me, as thou art beyond in years, I know thou dar'st and wilt; it troubles me that I should use so rough a phrase to thee, impute it to my folly, what thou wilt, so thou wilt par[d]on me: that thou and I should differ thus!

Faith but it is, but thou dost ever take all things I do, thus patiently, for which I never can requite thee, but with love, and that thou shalt be sure of. Thou and I have not been merry lately: pray thee tell me where hadst thou that same jewel in thine ear?

Wench! they respect not me, I'm old and rough, and every limb about me, but that which should, grows stiffer, I'those businesses I may swear I am truly honest: for I pay justly for what I take, and would be glad to be at a certainty.

Bessus, I thought you had been in Iberia by this, I bad you hast; Gobrias will want entertainment for me.

And if I can prefer her to the Lady Pentha your Majesties Sister, to learn fashions, as her friends term it, it will be worth something to me.

Why thou shalt bid her entertain her from me, so thou wilt resolve me one thing.

If I do not make my back-biters eat it to a knife within this week, say I am not valiant.

Take that for thy good news. A trustier servant to his Prince there lives not, than is good Gobrias.

The hand of Heaven is on me, be it far from me to struggle, if my secret sins have pull'd this curse upon me, lend me tears now to wash me white, that I may feel a child-like innocence within my breast; which once perform'd, O give me leave to stand as fix'd as constancy her self, my eyes set here unmov'd, regardless of the world though thousand miseries incompass me.

Alas she's not so happy, thou dost know how she hath laboured since my Father died to take by treason hence this loathed life, that would but be to serve her, I have pardoned, and pardoned, and by that have made her fit to practise new sins, not repent the old: she now had stirr'd a slave to come from thence, and strike me here, whom Gobrias sifting out, took and condemn'd and executed there, the carefulst servant: Heaven let me but live to pay that man; Nature is poor to me, that will not let me have as many deaths as are the times that he hath say'd my life, that I might dye 'em over all for him.

  What will the world
  Conceive of me? with what unnatural sins
  Will they suppose me loaden, when my life
  Is sought by her that gave it to the world?
  But yet he writes me comfort here, my Sister,
  He saies, is grown in beauty and in grace.
  In all the innocent vertues that become
  A tender spotless maid: she stains her cheeks
  With morning tears to purge her mothers ill,
  And 'mongst that sacred dew she mingles Prayers
  Her pure Oblations for my safe return:
  If I have lost the duty of a Son,
  If any pomp or vanity of state
  Made me forget my natural offices,
  Nay farther, if I have not every night
  Expostulated with my wandring thoughts,
  If ought unto my parent they have err'd,
  And call'd 'em back: do you direct her arm
  Unto this foul dissembling heart of mine:
  But if I have been just to her, send out
  Your power to compass me, and hold me safe
  From searching treason; I will use no means
  But prayer: for rather suffer me to see
  From mine own veins issue a deadly flood,
  Than wash my danger off with mothers blood.

  Nay let me stay alone,
  And when you see Armenia again,
  You shall behold a Tomb more worth than I;
  Some friend that ever lov'd me or my cause,
  Will build me something to distinguish me
  From other women, many a weeping verse
  He will lay on, and much lament those maids,
  That plac'd their loves unfortunately high,
  As I have done, where they can never reach;
  But why should you go to Iberia?

  Alas, that thou wilt ask me, ask the man
  That rages in a Fever why he lies
  Distempered there, when all the other youths
  Are coursing o're the Meadows with their Loves?
  Can I resist it? am I not a slave
  To him that conquer'd me?

  That conquer'd thee Tigranes! he has won
  But half of thee, thy body, but thy mind
  May be as free as his, his will did never
  Combate thine, and take it prisoner.

But if he by force convey my body hence,
What helps it me or thee to be unwilling?

  O Tigranes, I know you are to see a Lady there,
  To see, and like I fear: perhaps the hope
  Of her make[s] you forget me, ere we part,
  Be happier than you know to wish; farewel.

  Spaconia, stay and hear me what I say:
  In short, destruction meet me that I may
  See it, and not avoid it, when I leave
  To be thy faithful lover: part with me
  Thou shalt not, there are none that know our love,
  And I have given gold unto a Captain
  That goes unto Iberia from the King,
  That he will place a Lady of our Land
  With the Kings Sister that is offered me;
  Thither shall you, and being once got in
  Perswade her by what subtil means you can
  To be as backward in her love as I.

  Can you imagine that a longing maid
  When she beholds you, can be pull'd away
  With words from loving you?

  Why, I had rather lose you: can my heart
  Consent to let my tongue throw out such words,
  And I that ever yet spoke what I thought,
  Shall find it such a thing at first to lie?

Sweet Lady, by your leave, I co[u]ld wish my self more full of
Courtship for your fair sake.

Lady, you must hast, I have received new letters from the King that require more hast than I expected, he will follow me suddenly himself, and begins to call for your Majesty already.

I will not take upon me to govern your tongue Sir, you shall call me what you please.

Enter Gobrias, Bacurius, Arane, Panthe, and Mandane, Waiting-women with Attendants.

My Lord Bacurius, you must have regard unto the Queen, she is your prisoner, 'tis at your peril if she make escape.

My Lord, I know't, she is my prisoner from you committed; yet she is a woman, and so I keep her safe, you will not urge me to keep her close, I shall not shame to say I sorrow for her.

So do I my Lord; I sorrow for her, that so little grace doth govern her: that she should stretch her arm against her King, so little womanhood and natural goodness, as to think the death of her own Son.

  There is a Lady takes not after you,
  Her Father is within her, that good man
  Whose tears weigh'd down his sins, mark how she weeps,
  How well it does become her, and if you
  Can find no disposition in your self
  To sorrow, yet by gracefulness in her
  Find out the way, and by your reason weep:
  All this she does for you, and more she needs
  When for your self you will not lose a tear,
  Think how this want of grief discredits you,
  And you will weep, because you cannot weep.

You talk to me as having got a time fit for your purpose; but you should be urg'd know I know you speak not what you think.

  I would my heart were Stone, before my softness
  Against my mother, a more troubled thought
  No Virgin bears about; should I excuse
  My Mothers fault, I should set light a life
  In losing which, a brother and a King
  Were taken from me, if I seek to save
  That life so lov'd, I lose another life
  That gave me being, I shall lose a Mother,
  A word of such a sound in a childs ears
  That it strikes reverence through it; may the will
  Of heaven be done, and if one needs must fall,
  Take a poor Virgins life to answer all.

But Gobrias let us talk, you know this fault
Is not in me as in another Mother.

Nay should I joyn with you, should we not both be torn and yet both die uncredited?

Why then take you such violent courses? As for me I do but right
in saving of the King from all your plots.

  I bad you rest with patience, and a time
  Would come for me to reconcile all to
  Your own content, but by this way you take
  Away my power, and what was done unknown,
  Was not by me but you: your urging being done
  I must preserve my own, but time may bring
  All this to light, and happily for all.

  Accursed be this over curious brain
  That gave that plot a birth, accurst this womb
  That after did conceive to my disgrace.

My Lord Protector, they say there are divers Letters come from Armenia, that Bessus has done good service, and brought again a day, by his particular valour, receiv'd you any to that effect?

  I'm sorry for't, not that the day was won,
  But that 'twas won by him: we held him here
  A Coward, he did me wrong once, at which I laugh'd,
  And so did all the world, for nor I,
  Nor any other held him worth my sword.

Health to my Protector; from the King
These Letters; and to your grace Madam, these.

As well as conquest by his own means and his valiant
C[o]mmanders can make him; your letters will tell you all.

I will not open mine till I do know
My Brothers health: good Captain is he well?

I do not ask how strange that souldier is
That gets no hurt, but whether he have one.

Well again, an't please your Grace: why I was run twice through the body, and shot i'th' head with a cross-arrow, and yet am well again.

Not care how I do? Let a man out of the mightiness of his spirit, fructifie Foreign Countries with his blood for the good of his own, and thus he shall be answered: Why I may live to relieve with spear and shield, such a Lady as you distressed.

  Bacurius, I must ease you of your charge:
  Madam, the wonted mercy of the King,
  That overtakes your faults, has met with this,
  And struck it out, he has forgiven you freely,
  Your own will is your law, be where you please.

Good Captain Bessus, tell us the discourse betwixt Tigranes and our King, and how we got the victory.

  I prethee do, and if my Brother were
  In any danger, let not thy tale make
  Him abide there long before thou bring him off,
  For all that while my heart will beat.

Madam let what will beat, I must tell the truth, and thus it was; they fought single in lists, but one to one; as for my own part, I was dangerously hurt but three days before, else, perhaps, we had been two to two, I cannot tell, some thought we had, and the occasion of my hurt was this, the enemy had made Trenches.

Captain, without the manner of your hurt be much material to this business, we'l hear't some other time.

I will, but 'twould be worth your hearing: To the
Lists they came, and single-sword and gantlet was their fight.

Without the Lists there stood some dozen Captains of either side mingled, all which were sworn, and one of those was I: and 'twas my chance to stand next a Captain o'th' enemies side, called Tiribasus; Valiant they said he was; whilst these two Kings were streaching themselves, this Tiribasus cast something a scornful look on me, and ask't me who I thought would overcome: I smil'd and told him if he would fight with me, he should perceive by the event of that whose King would win: something he answered, and a scuffle was like to grow, when one Zipetus offered to help him, I—

All this is of thy self, I pray thee Bessus tell something of my Brother, did he nothing?

Why yes, I'le tell your Grace, they were not to fight till the word given, which for my own part, by my troth I confess I was not to give.

Cri'd give the word, when as some of them say, Tigranes was stooping, but the word was not given then, yet one Cosroes of the enemies part, held up his finger to me, which is as much with us Martialists, as I will fight with you: I said not a word, nor made sign during the combate, but that once done.

You'r welcome from your Country, and this land shall shew unto you all the kindness that I can make it; what's your name?

Y'are very welcome, you have got a letter to put you to me, that has power enough to place mine enemy here; then much more you that are so far from being so to me that you ne're saw me.

I cannot tell, servants are slippery, but I dare give my word for her, and for honesty, she came along with me, and many favours she did me by the way, but by this light none but what she might do with modesty, to a man of my rank.

Nay, if you should, your Grace may think your pleasure; but I am sure I brought her from Armenia, and in all that way, if ever I touch'd any bare of her above her knee, I pray God I may sink where I stand.

No, you know I did not, and if any man will say, I did, this sword shall answer; Nay, I'le defend the reputation of my charge whilst I live, your Grace shall understand I am secret in these businesses, and know how to defend a Ladies honour.

I hope your Grace knows him so well already, I shall not need to tell you he's vain and foolish.

I you may call me what you please, but I'le defend your good name against the world; and so I take my leave of your Grace, and of you my Lord Protector; I am likewise glad to see your Lordship well.

O my Lord, the kindest words, I'le keep 'em whilst I live, here in my bosom, there's no art in 'em, they lie disordered in this paper, just as hearty nature speaks 'em.

And to me he writes what tears of joy he shed to hear how you were grown in every vertues way, and yields all thanks to me, for that dear care which I was bound to have in training you, there is no Princess living that enjoys a brother of that worth.

  My Lord, no maid longs more for any thing,
  And feels more heat and cold within her breast,
  Than I do now, in hopes to see him.

  Yet I wonder much
  At this he writes, he brings along with him
  A husband for you, that same Captive Prince,
  And if he loves you as he makes a shew,
  He will allow you freedom in your choice.

And so he will my Lord, I warrant you, he will but offer and give me the power to take or leave.

Trust me, were I a Lady, I could not like that man were bargain'd with before I choose him.

But I am not built on such wild humours, if I find him worthy, he is not less because he's offer'd.

  I think there's no Lady can affect
  Another Prince, your brother standing by;
  He doth Eclipse mens vertues so with his.

Why so you shall, my businesses are great,
I will attend you when it is his pleasure to see you.

  I do beseech you Madam, send away
  Your other women, and receive from me
  A few sad words, which set against your joyes
  May make 'em shine the more.

  I kneel a stranger here to beg a thing
  Unfit for me to ask, and you to grant,
  'Tis such another strange ill-laid request,
  As if a begger should intreat a King
  To leave his Scepter, and his Throne to him
  And take his rags to wander o're the world
  Hungry and cold.

  Alas 'tis of that nature, that it must
  Be utter'd, I, and granted, or I die:
  I am asham'd to speak it; but where life
  Lies at the stake, I cannot think her woman

That will not take something unreasonably to hazard saving of it: I shall seem a strange Petitioner, that wish all ill to them I beg of, e're they give me ought; yet so I must: I would you were not fair, nor wise, for in your ill consists my good: if you were foolish, you would hear my prayer, if foul, you had not power to hinder me: he would not love you.

  Nay, my request is more without the bounds
  Of reason yet: for 'tis not in the power
  Of you to do, what I would have you grant.

  Your brother brings a Prince into this land,
  Of such a noble shape, so sweet a grace,
  So full of worth withal, that every maid
  That looks upon him, gives away her self
  To him for ever; and for you to have
  He brings him: and so mad is my demand
  That I desire you not to have this man,
  This excellent man, for whom you needs must die,
  If you should miss him. I do now expect
  You should laugh at me.

Trust me I could weep rather, for I have found him
In all thy words a strange disjoynted sorrow.

His own desire! why credit me Thalestris, I am no common wooer: if he shall wooe me, his worth may be such, that I dare not swear I will not love him; but if he will stay to have me wooe him, I will promise thee, he may keep all his graces to himself, and fear no ravishing from me.

'Tis yet his own desire, but when he sees your face, I fear it will not be; therefore I charge you as you have pity, stop these tender ears from his enchanting voice, close up those eyes, that you may neither catch a dart from him, nor he from you; I charge you as you hope to live in quiet; for when I am dead, for certain I will walk to visit him if he break promise with me: for as fast as Oaths without a formal Ceremony can make me, I am to him.

  Then be fearless;
  For if he were a thing 'twixt God and man,
  I could gaze on him; if I knew it sin
  To love him without passion: Dry your eyes,
  I swear you shall enjoy him still for me,
  I will not hinder you; but I perceive
  You are not what you seem, rise, rise Thalestris,
  If your right name be so.

Why, by me you shall not, I will never do you wrong, what good I can, I will, think not my birth or education such, that I should injure a stranger Virgin; you are welcome hither, in company you wish to be commanded, but when we are alone, I shall be ready to be your servant.

You heard he with the Bottles said, he thought we should come too late: What abundance of people here is!

Why the King look you, will many times call for these
Bottles, and break his mind to his friends.

My husbands Cousin would have had me gone into the Country last year, wert thou ever there?

Do they not? Alas! I'good faith I cannot blame them: for we do not greatly care for them our selves. Philip, I pray choose us a place.

Let her look to her self then, has she not had showing enough yet? if she stay shouldring here, she may haps go home with a cake in her belly.

Look if one ha'not struck Philip, come hither Philip, why did he strike thee?

As God save me la thou'rt as wild as a Buck, there's no quarel but thou'rt at one end or other on't.

I thank you all, now are my joyes at full, when I behold you safe, my loving Subjects; by you I grow, 'tis your united love that lifts me to this height: all the account that I can render you for all the love you have bestowed on me, all your expences to maintain my war, is but a little word, you will imagine 'tis slender paiment, yet 'tis such a word, as is not to be bought but with your bloods, 'tis Peace.

  Now you may live securely i'your Towns,
  Your Children round about you; may sit
  Under your Vines, and make the miseries
  Of other Kingdoms a discourse for you,
  And lend them sorrows; for your selves, you may
  Safely forget there are such things as tears,
  And you may all whose good thoughts I have gain'd,
  Hold me unworthy, where I think my life
  A sacrifice too great to keep you thus
  In such a calm estate.

See all good people, I have brought the man whose very name you fear'd, a captive home; behold him, 'tis Tigranes; in your heart sing songs of gladness, and deliverance.

It was so far from me to mean it so: if I have ought deserv'd, my loving Subjects, let me beg of you, not to revile this Prince, in whom there dwells all worth of which the name of a man is capable, valour beyond compare, the terrour of his name has stretcht it self where ever there is sun; and yet for you I fought with him single, and won him too; I made his valour stoop, and brought that name soar'd to so unbeliev'd a height, to fall beneath mine: this inspir'd with all your loves, I did perform, and will for your content, be ever ready for a greater work.

So he has made me amends now with a speech in commendation of himself: I would not be so vain-glorious.

  If there be any thing in which I may
  Do good to any creature, here speak out;
  For I must leave you: and it troubles me,
  That my occasions for the good of you,
  Are such as call me from you: else, my joy
  Would be to spend my days among you all.
  You shew your loves in these large multitudes
  That come to meet me, I will pray for you,
  Heaven prosper you, that you may know old years,
  And live to see your childrens children sit
  At your boards with plenty: when there is
  A want of any thing, let it be known
  To me, and I will be a Father to you:
  God keep you all.

Thou wouldst be Philip if thou sawst it in a glass; it looks so like a Visour.

You'l be hang'd sirra: Come Philip walk before us homewards; did not his Majesty say he had brought us home Pease for all our money?

They're the first I heard of this year by my troth, I longed for some of 'em: did he not say we should have some?

Yes, and so we shall anon I warrant you have every one a peck brought home to our houses.

  Not very ill.
  Something unkindly she does take it Sir to have
  Her Husband chosen to her hands.

Why Gobrias let her, I must have her know, my will and not her own must govern her: what will she marry with some slave at home?

O she is far from any stubbornness, you much mistake her, and no doubt will like where you would have her, but when you behold her, you will be loth to part with such a jewel.

Sir, I know she is: but it were pity to make poor our Land, with such a beauty to enrich another.

Were she my Father and my Mother too, and all the names for which we think folks friends, she should be forc't to have him when I know 'tis fit: I will not hear her say she's loth.

Heaven bring my purpose luckily to pass, you know 'tis just, she will not need constraint she loves you so.

She loves you more than people love their health, that live by labour; more than I could love a man that died for me, if he could live again.

  O no, when you were in Armenia,
  I durst not let her know when you were hurt:
  For at the first on every little scratch,
  She kept her Chamber, wept, and could not eat,
  Till you were well, and many times the news
  Was so long coming, that before we heard
  She was as near her death, as you your health.

  Alas poor soul, but yet she must be rul'd;
  I know not how I shall requite her well.
  I long to see her, have you sent for her,
  To tell her I am ready?

  Good Gobrias bring 'em in.
  Tigranes, you will think you are arriv'd
  In a strange Land, where Mothers cast to poyson
  Their only Sons; think you you shall be safe?

Enter Gobrias, Arane, Panthea, Spaconia, Bacurius, Mardonius and Bessus, and two Gentlemen.

  As low as this I bow to you, and would
  As low as is my grave, to shew a mind
  Thankful for all your mercies.

  O stand up,
  And let me kneel, the light will be asham'd
  To see observance done to me by you.

  You are my Mother, rise;
  As far be all your faults from your own soul,
  As from my memory; then you shall be
  As white as innocence her self.

  I came
  Only to shew my duty, and acknowledge
  My sorrows for my sins; longer to stay
  Were but to draw eyes more attentively
  Upon my shame, that power that kept you safe
  From me, preserve you still.

  Now let me die, since I have seen my Lord the King
  Return in safetie, I have seen all good that life
  Can shew me; I have ne're another wish
  For Heaven to grant, nor were it fit I should;
  For I am bound to spend my age to come,
  In giving thanks that this was granted me.

  Alas Sir, I am fearful, you do look
  On me, as if I were some loathed thing
  That you were finding out a way to shun.

I know I am unworthy, yet not ill arm'd, with which innocence here I will kneel, till I am one with earth, but I will gain some words and kindness from you.

  Speak, am I what I was?
  What art thou that dost creep into my breast,
  And dar'st not see my face? shew forth thy self:
  I feel a pair of fiery wings displai'd
  Hither, from hence; you shall not tarry there,
  Up, and be gone, if thou beest Love be gone:
  Or I will tear thee from my wounded breast,
  Pull thy lov'd Down away, and with thy Quill
  By this right arm drawn from thy wonted wing,
  Write to thy laughing Mother i'thy bloud,
  That you are powers bely'd, and all your darts
  Are to be blown away, by men resolv'd,
  Like dust; I know thou fear'st my words, away.

  O misery! why should he be so slow?
  There can no falshood come of loving her;
  Though I have given my faith; she is a thing
  Both to be lov'd and serv'd beyond my faith:
  I would he would present me to her quickly.

  Will you not speak at all? are you so far
  From kind words? yet to save my modesty,
  That must talk till you answer, do not stand
  As you were dumb, say something, though it be
  Poyson'd with anger, that it may strike me dead.

  Have you no life at all? for man-hood sake
  Let her not kneel, and talk neglected thus;
  A tree would find a tongue to answer her,
  Did she but give it such a lov'd respect.

You mean this Lady: lift her from the earth; why do you let her kneel so long? Alas, Madam, your beauty uses to command, and not to beg. What is your sute to me? it shall be granted, yet the time is short, and my affairs are great: but where's my Sister? I bade she should be brought.

No Sir? why, do you mock me? I can see
No other here, but that petitioning Lady.

  As hell, by Heaven, as false as hell,
  My Sister: is she dead? if it be so,
  Speak boldly to me; for I am a man,
  And dare not quarrel with Divinity;
  And do not think to cozen me with this:
  I see you all are mute and stand amaz'd,
  Fearful to answer me; it is too true,
  A decreed instant cuts off ev'ry life,
  For which to mourn, is to repine; she dy'd
  A Virgin, though more innocent than sheep,
  As clear as her own eyes, and blessedness
  Eternal waits upon her where she is:
  I know she could not make a wish to change
  Her state for new, and you shall see me bear
  My crosses like a man; we all must die,
  And she hath taught us how.

  Do not mistake,
  And vex your self for nothing; for her death
  Is a long life off, I hope: 'Tis she,
  And if my speech deserve not faith, lay death
  Upon me, and my latest words shall force
  A credit from you.

  That Lady Sir,
  She is your Sister, and she is your Sister
  That loves you so, 'tis she for whom I weep,
  To see you use her thus.

  Pish, this is tedious,
  I cannot hold, I must present my self,
  And yet the sight of my Spaconia
  Touches me, as a sudden thunder-clap
  Does one that is about to sin.

  Away,
  No more of this; here I pronounce him Traytor,
  The direct plotter of my death, that names
  Or thinks her for my Sister, 'tis a lie,
  The most malicious of the world, invented
  To mad your King; he that will say so next,
  Let him draw out his sword and sheath it here,
  It is a sin fully as pardonable:
  She is no kin to me, nor shall she be;
  If she were ever, I create her none:
  And which of you can question this? My power
  Is like the Sea, that is to be obey'd,
  And not disputed with: I have decreed her
  As far from having part of blood with me,
  As the nak'd indians; come and answer me,
  He that is boldest now; is that my Sister?

No marry, she is not, an't please your Majesty,
I never thought she was, she's nothing like you.

  Sir, I will speak but once; by the same power
  You make my blood a stranger unto yours,
  You may command me dead, and so much love
  A stranger may importune, pray you do;
  If this request appear too much to grant,
  Adopt me of some other Family,
  By your unquestion'd word; else I shall live
  Like sinfull issues that are left in streets
  By their regardless Mothers, and no name
  Will be found for me.

  I will hear no more,
  Why should there be such musick in a voyce,
  And sin for me to hear it? All the world
  May take delight in this, and 'tis damnation
  For me to do so: You are fair and wise
  And vertuous I think, and he is blest
  That is so near you as my brother is;
  But you are nought to me but a disease;
  Continual torment without hope of ease;
  Such an ungodly sickness I have got,
  That he that undertakes my cure, must first
  O'rethrow Divinity, all moral Laws,
  And leave mankind as unconfin'd as beasts,
  Allowing 'em to do all actions
  As freely as they drink when they desire.
  Let me not hear you speak again; yet see
  I shall but lang[u]ish for the want of that,
  The having which, would kill me: No man here
  Offer to speak for her; for I consider
  As much as you can say; I will not toil
  My body and my mind too, rest thou there,
  Here's one within will labour for you both.

  Fear not Madam,
  The King will alter, 'tis some sudden rage,
  And you shall see it end some other way.

  Though she to whom I swore, be here, I cannot
  Stifle my passion longer; if my father
  Should rise again disquieted with this,
  And charge me to forbear, yet it would out.
  Madam, a stranger, and a pris'ner begs
  To be bid welcome.

  You are welcome, Sir,
  I think, but if you be not, 'tis past me
  To make you so: for I am here a stranger,
  Greater than you; we know from whence you come,
  But I appear a lost thing, and by whom
  Is yet uncertain, found here i'th' Court,
  And onely suffer'd to walk up and down,
  As one not worth the owning.

  O, I fear
  Tigranes will be caught, he looks, me-thinks,
  As he would change his eyes with her; some help
  There is above for me, I hope.

  Why do you turn away, and weep so fast,
  And utter things that mis-become your looks,
  Can you want owning?

  Perhaps I told you so,
  If I had sworn it, had you so much folly
  To credit it? The least word that she speaks
  Is worth a life; rule your disordered tongue,
  Or I will temper it.

  Temper my tongue! such incivilities
  As these, no barbarous people ever knew:
  You break the lawes of Nature, and of Nations,
  You talk to me as if I were a prisoner
  For theft: my tongue be temper'd? I must speak
  If thunder check me, and I will.

  Fear not my frown? but that 'twere base in me
  To fight with one I know I can o'recome,
  Again thou shouldst be conquer'd by me.

He has one ransome with him already; me-thinks
'T were good to fight double, or quit.

  Away with him to prison: Now Sir, see
  If my frown be regardless; Why delay you?
  Seise him Bacurius, you shall know my word
  Sweeps like a wind, and all it grapples with,
  Are as the chaffe before it.

  Justice, thou ought'st to give me strength enough
  To shake all these off; This is tyrannie,
  Arbaces, sutler than the burning Bulls,
  Or that fam'd Titans bed. Thou mightst as well
  Search i'th' deep of Winter through the snow
  For half starv'd people, to bring home with thee,
  To shew 'em fire, and send 'em back again,
  As use me thus.

  I ne're rejoyc'd at any ill to him,
  But this imprisonment: what shall become
  Of me forsaken?

  By no means Gobrias, I have done her wrong,
  And made my self believe much of my self,
  That is not in me: You did kneel to me,
  Whilest I stood stubborn and regardless by,
  And like a god incensed, gave no ear
  To all your prayers: behold, I kneel to you,
  Shew a contempt as large as was my own,
  And I will suffer it, yet at the last forgive me.

  If you be in earnest,
  Stand up and give me but a gentle look,
  And two kind words, and I shall be in heaven.

  Rise you then to hear; I acknowledge thee
  My hope, the only jewel of my life,
  The best of Sisters, dearer than my breath,
  A happiness as high as I could think;
  And when my actions call thee otherwise,
  Perdition light upon me.

  This is better
  Than if you had not frown'd, it comes to me,
  Like mercie at the block, and when I leave
  To serve you with my life, your curse be with me.

  Then thus I do salute thee, and again,
  To make this knot the stronger, Paradise
  Is there: It may be you are yet in doubt,
  This third kiss blots it out, I wade in sin,
  And foolishly intice my self along;
  Take her away, see her a prisoner
  In her own chamber closely, Gobrias.

  I will not hear you speak,
  Away with her, let no man think to speak
  For such a creature; for she is a witch,
  A prisoner, and a Traitor.

  Bessus, go you along too with her; I will prove
  All this that I have said, if I may live
  So long; but I am desperately sick,
  For she has given me poison in a kiss;
  She had't betwixt her lips, and with her eyes
  She witches people: go without a word.

  Why should you that have made me stand in war
  Like fate it self, cutting what threds I pleas'd,
  Decree such an unworthy end of me,
  And all my glories? What am I, alas,
  That you oppose me? if my secret thoughts
  Have ever harbour'd swellings against you,
  They could not hurt you, and it is in you
  To give me sorrow, that will render me
  Apt to receive your mercy; rather so,
  Let it be rather so, than punish me
  With such unmanly sins: Incest is in me
  Dwelling already, and it must be holy
  That pulls it thence, where art Mardonius?

  Why, my legs
  Refuse to bear my body; O Mardonius,
  Thou hast in field beheld me, when thou knowst
  I could have gone, though I could never run.

  Wilt thou hereafter when they talk of me,
  As thou shalt hear nothing but infamy,
  Remember some of those things?

They talk of fame, I have gotten it in the wars; and will afford any man a reasonable penny-worth: some will say, they could be content to have it, but that it is to be atchiev'd with danger; but my opinion is otherwise: for if I might stand still in Cannon-proof, and have fame fall upon me, I would refuse it: my reputation came principally by thinking to run away, which no body knows but Mardonius, and I think he conceals it to anger me. Before I went to the warrs, I came to the Town a young fellow, without means or parts to deserve friends; and my empty guts perswaded me to lie, and abuse people for my meat, which I did, and they beat me: then would I fast two days, till my hunger cri'd out on me, rail still, then me-thought I had a monstrous stomach to abuse 'em again, and did it. I, this state I continu'd till they hung me up by th' heels, and beat me wi' hasle sticks, as if they would have baked me, and have cousen'd some body wi'me for Venison: After this I rail'd, and eat quietly: for the whole Kingdom took notice of me for a baffl'd whipt fellow, and what I said was remembred in mirth but never in anger, of which I was glad; I would it were at that pass again. After this, heaven calls an Aunt of mine, that left two hundred pound in a cousins hand for me, who taking me to be a gallant young spirit, raised a company for me with the money and sent me into Armenia with 'em: Away I would have run from them, but that I could get no company, and alone I durst not run. I was never at battail but once, and there I was running, but Mardonius cudgel'd me; yet I got loose at last, but was so fraid, that I saw no more than my shoulders doe, but fled with my whole company amongst my Enemies, and overthrew 'em: Now the report of my valour is come over before me, and they say I was a raw young fellow, but now I am improv'd, a Plague on their eloquence, 't will cost me many a beating; And Mardonius might help this too, if he would; for now they think to get honour on me, and all the men I have abus'd call me freshly worthily, as they call it by the way of challenge.

From one that holds himself wrong'd by you some three years since: your worth he says is fam'd, and he doth nothing doubt but you will do him right, as beseems a souldier.

And a slight note I have about me for you, for the delivery of which you must excuse me; it is an office that friendship calls upon me to do, and no way offensive to you; since I desire but right on both sides.

An inviting? O Sir your Mercy, what a Complement he delivers it with? he might as agreeable to my nature present me poison with such a speech: um um um reputation, um um um call you to account, um um um forc'd to this, um um um with my Sword, um um um like a Gentleman, um um um dear to me, um um um satisfaction: 'Tis very well Sir, I do accept it, but he must await an answer this thirteen weeks.

Sir upon my credit I am already ingag'd to two hundred, and twelve, all which must have their stains wip'd off, if that be the word, before him.

Upon my faith Sir, to two hundred and twelve, and I have a spent body, too much bruis'd in battel, so that I cannot fight, I must be plain, above three combats a day: All the kindness I can shew him, is to set him resolvedly in my rowle, the two hundred and thirteenth man, which is something, for I tell you, I think there will be more after him, than before him, I think so; pray you commend me to him, and tell him this.

Good morrow good Sir. Certainly my safest way were to print my self a coward, with a discovery how I came by my credit, and clap it upon every post; I have received above thirty challenges within this two hours, marry all but the first I put off with ingagement, and by good fortune, the first is no madder of fighting than I, so that that's referred, the place where it must be ended, is four days journey off, and our arbitratours are these: He has chosen a Gentleman in travel, and I have a special friend with a quartain ague, like to hold him this five years, for mine: and when his man comes home, we are to expect my friends health: If they would finde me challenges thus thick, as long as I liv'd, I would have no other living; I can make seven shillings a day o'th' paper to the Grocers: yet I learn nothing by all these but a little skill in comparing of stiles. I do finde evidently, that there is some one Scrivener in this Town, that has a great hand in writing of Challenges, for they are all of a cut, and six of 'em in a hand; and they all end, my reputation is dear to me, and I must require satisfaction: Who's there? more paper I hope, no, 'tis my Lord Bacurius, I fear all is not well betwixt us.

Now Captain Bessus, I come about a frivolous matter, caus'd by as idle a report: you know you were a coward.

But now people will call you valiant, desertlesly I think, yet for their satisfaction, I will have you fight with me.

Tell not me of your Engagements, Captain Bessus, it is not to be put off with an excuse: for my own part, I am none of the multitude that believe your conversion from Coward.

My Lord, I seek not Quarrels, and this belongs not to me, I am not to maintain it.

I pray thee leave these cheating tricks, I swear thou shalt fight with me, or thou shall be beaten extreamly, and kick'd.

Since you provoke me thus far, my Lord, I will fight with you, and by my Sword it shall cost me twenty pound, but I will have my Leg well a week sooner purposely.

What dost thou with such a phrase in thy mouth? I will kick thee out of all good words before I leave thee.

When thou wert? Confess thy self a Coward still, or by this light, I'le beat thee into Spunge.

It is a pretty Hilt, and if your Lordship take an affection to it, with all my heart I present it to you for a New-years-gift.

Marry by all means Captain; cherish your self with it, and eat hard, good Captain; we cannot tell whether we shall have any more such: Adue dear Captain.

I will make better use of this, than of my Sword: A base spirit has this vantage of a brave one, it keeps alwayes at a stay, nothing brings it down, not beating. I remember I promis'd the King in a great Audience, that I would make my back-biters eat my sword to a knife; how to get another sword I know not, nor know any means left for me to maintain my credit, but impudence: therefore I will out-swear him and all his followers, that this is all that's left uneaten of my sword.

I'le move the King, he is most strangely alter'd; I guess the cause I fear too right, Heaven has some secret end in't, and 'tis a scourge no question justly laid upon him: he has followed me through twenty Rooms; and ever when I stay to wait his command, he blushes like a Girl, and looks upon me, as if modesty kept in his business: so turns away from me, but if I go on, he follows me again.

See, here he is. I do not use this, yet I know not how, I cannot chuse but weep to see him; his very Enemies I think, whose wounds have bred his fame, if they should see him now, would find tears i'their eyes.

  I cannot utter it, why should I keep
  A breast to harbour thoughts? I dare not speak.
  Darkness is in my bosom, and there lie
  A thousand thoughts that cannot brook the light:
  How wilt thou vex 'em when this deed is done,
  Conscience, that art afraid to let me name it?

  I hope thou art; for to be plain with thee,
  Thou art in Hell else, secret scorching flames
  That far transcend earthly material fires
  Are crept into me, and there is no cure.
  Is it not strange Mardonius, there's no cure?

Out with it Sir, if it be dangerous, I will not shrink to do you service, I shall not esteem my life a weightier matter than indeed it is, I know it is subject to more chances than it has hours, and I were better lose it in my Kings cause, than with an ague, or a fall, or sleeping, to a Thief; as all these are probable enough: let me but know what I shall do for you.

  It will not out: were you with Gobrias,
  And bad him give my Sister all content
  The place affords, and give her leave to send
  And speak to whom she please?

  O say not so,
  You had an answer of this before;
  Besides I think this business might
  Be utter'd more carelesly.

  Come thou shalt have it out, I do beseech thee
  By all the love thou hast profest to me,
  To see my Sister from me.

  Not a word;
  But if thou lovest me, find some subtil way
  To make her understand by signs.

  'Tis true;
  Bear her this Ring then, and
  One more advice, thou shall speak to her:
  Tell her I do love My kindred all: wilt thou?

Sir, if I take upon me to deliver it, after I hear it, I'le pass through fire to do it.

No, thou art dull, kneel down before her,
And ne'r rise again, till she will love me.

Why, I think there are few Wives that love their
Husbands better than she does you.

  Thou wilt not understand me: is it fit
  This should be uttered plainly? take it then
  Naked as it is: I would desire her love
  Lasciviously, lewdly, incestuously,
  To do a sin that needs must damn us both,
  And thee too: dost thou understand me now?

  Yes, there's your Ring again; what have I done
  Dishonestly in my whole life, name it,
  That you should put so base a business to me?

  Yes; if I undertook it, but if all
  My hairs were lives, I would not be engag'd
  In such a case to save my last life.

  O guilt! ha how poor and weak a thing art thou!
  This man that is my servant, whom my breath
  Might blow upon the world, might beat me here
  Having this cause, whil'st I prest down with sin
  Could not resist him: hear Mardonius,
  It was a motion mis-beseeming man,
  And I am sorry for it.

Heaven grant you may be so: you must understand, nothing that you can utter, can remove my love and service from my Prince. But otherwise, I think I shall not love you more. For you are sinful, and if you do this crime, you ought to have no Laws. For after this, it will be great injustice in you to punish any offender for any crime. For my self I find my heart too big: I feel I have not patience to look on whilst you run these forbidden courses. Means I have none but your favour, and I am rather glad that I shall lose 'em both together, than keep 'em with such conditions; I shall find a dwelling amongst some people, where though our Garments perhaps be courser, we shall be richer far within, and harbour no such vices in 'em: the Gods preserve you, and mend.

  Mardonius, stay Mardonius, for though
  My present state requires nothing but knaves
  To be about me, such as are prepar'd
  For every wicked act, yet who does know
  But that my loathed Fate may turn about,
  And I have use for honest men again?
  I hope I may, I prethee leave me not.

Vanities! I'me no honest man, if my enemies have not brought it to this, what, do you think I lie?

If your enemies brought it to this, your enemies are Cutlers, come leave the King.

  No, let him stay Mardonius, let him stay,
  I have occasion with him very weighty,
  And I can spare you now.

Do't for you? by this Air I will do any thing without exception, be it a good, bad, or indifferent thing.

Why I would have thee get my Sister for me?
Thou understandst me, in a wicked manner.

Wilt thou, do'st thou make no more on't? Bes. More? no, why is there any thing else? if there be, it shall be done too.

  Hast thou no greater sense of such a sin?
  Thou art too wicked for my company,
  Though I have hell within me, thou may'st yet
  Corrupt me further: pray thee answer me,
  How do I shew to thee after this motion?

Why your Majesty looks as well in my opinion, as ever you did since you were born.

  But thou appear'st to me after thy grant,
  The ugliest, loathed detestable thing
  That I ever met with. Thou hast eyes
  Like the flames of Sulphur, which me thinks do dart
  Infection on me, and thou hast a mouth
  Enough to take me in where there do stand
  Four rows of Iron Teeth.

I feel no such thing, but 'tis no matter how I look, Pie do my business as well as they that look better, and when this is dispatch'd, if you have a mind to your Mother, tell me, and you shall see I'le set it hard.

  My Mother! Heaven forgive me to hear this,
  I am inspir'd with horrour: now I hate thee
  Worse than my sin, which if I could come by
  Should suffer death Eternal ne're to rise
  In any breast again. Know I will die
  Languishing mad, as I resolve, I shall,
  E're I will deal by such an instrument:
  Thou art too sinful to imploy in this;
  Out of the World, away.

  Hung round with Curses, take thy fearful flight
  Into the Desarts, where 'mongst all the Monsters
  If thou find'st one so beastly as thy self,
  Thou shalt be held as innocent.

  If there were no such instruments as thou,
  We Kings could never act such wicked deeds:
  Seek out a man that mocks Divinity,
  That breaks each precept both of God and man,
  And natures too, and does it without lust,
  Meerly because it is a law, and good,
  And live with him: for him thou canst not spoil.
  Away I say, I will not do this sin.

  I'le press it here, till it do break my breast,
  It heaves to get out, but thou art a sin,
  And spight of torture I will keep thee in.

ACTUS QUARTUS.

  And with a kindness, and such winning words
  As may provoke him, at one instant feel
  His double fault, your wrong, and his own rashness?

  I have sent words enough, if words may win him
  From his displeasure; and such words I hope,
  As shall gain much upon his goodness, Gobrias.
  Yet fearing they are many, and a womans,
  A poor belief may follow, I have woven
  As many truths within 'em to speak for me,
  That if he be but gracious, and receive 'em—

  Good Lady be not fearful, though he should not
  Give you your present end in this, believe it,
  You shall feel, if your vertue can induce you
  To labour on't, this tempest which I know,
  Is but a poor proof 'gainst your patience:
  All those contents, your spirit will arrive at,
  Newer and sweeter to you; your Royal brother,
  When he shall once collect himself, and see
  How far he has been asunder from himself;
  What a meer stranger to his golden temper:
  Must from those roots of vertue, never dying,
  Though somewhat stopt with humour, shoot again
  Into a thousand glories, bearing his fair branches
  High as our hopes can look at, straight as justice,
  Loaden with ripe contents; he loves you dearly,
  I know it, and I hope I need not farther
  Win you to understand it.

  I believe it.
  But howsoever, I am sure I love him dearly:
  So dearly, that if any thing I write
  For my enlarging should beget his anger,
  Heaven be a witness with me and my faith,
  I had rather live intomb'd here.

   You shall not feel a worse stroke than your grief,
  I am sorry 'tis so sharp, I kiss your hand,
  And this night will deliver this true story,
  With this hand to your Brother.

  Prethee discover not a way to sadness,
  Nearer than I have in me, our two sorrows
  Work like two eager Hawks, who shall get highest;
  How shall I lessen thine? for mine I fear
  Is easier known than cur'd.

  Heaven comfort both,
  And give you happy ends, however I
  Fall in my stubborn fortunes.

  This but teaches
  How to be more familiar with our sorrows,
  That are too much our masters: good Spaconia
  How shall I do you service?

  Noblest Lady,
  You make me more a slave still to your goodness,
  And only live to purchase thanks to pay you,
  For that is all the business of my life: now
  I will be bold, since you will have it so,
  To ask a noble favour of you.

  Then ever vertuous, let me beg your will
  In helping me to see the Prince Tigranes,
  With whom I am equal prisoner, if not more.

  Reserve me to a greater end Spaconia;
  Bacurius cannot want so much good manners
  As to deny your gentle visitation,
  Though you came only with your own command.

  I know they will deny me gracious Madam,
  Being a stranger, and so little fam'd,
  So utter empty of those excellencies
  That tame Authority; but in you sweet Lady,
  All these are natural; beside, a power
  Deriv'd immediate from your Royal brother,
  Whose least word in you may command the Kingdom.

  You are a pretty one, and trust me Lady
  It joyes me, I shall do a good to you,
  Though to my self I never shall be happy:
  Here, take this Ring, and from me as a Token
  Deliver it; I think they will not stay you:
  So all your own desires go with you Lady.

  Fool that I am, I have undone my self,
  And with my own hand turn'd my fortune round,
  That was a fair one: I have childishly
  Plaid with my hope so long, till I have broke it,
  And now too late I mourn for't; O Spaconia!
  Thou hast found an even way to thy revenge now,
  Why didst thou follow me like a faint shadow,
  To wither my desires? But wretched fool,
  Why did I plant thee 'twixt the Sun and me,
  To make me freeze thus? Why did I prefer her
  To the fair Princess? O thou fool, thou fool,
  Thou family of fools, live like a slave still,
  And in thee bear thine own hell and thy torment,
  Thou hast deserv'd: Couldst thou find no Lady
  But she that has thy hopes to put her to,
  And hazard all thy peace? None to abuse,
  But she that lov'd thee ever? poor Spaconia,
  And so much lov'd thee, that in honesty
  And honour thou art bound to meet her vertues:
  She that forgot the greatness of her grief
  And miseries, that must follow such mad passions,
  Endless and wild as women; she that for thee
  And with thee left her liberty, her name,
  And Country, you have paid me equal, Heavens,
  And sent my own rod to correct me with;
  A woman: for inconstancy I'le suffer,
  Lay it on justice, till my soul melt in me
  For my unmanly, beastly, sudden doting
  Upon a new face: after all my oaths
  Many and strange ones,
  I feel my old fire flame again and burn
  So strong and violent, that should I see her
  Again, the grief and that would kill me.

  She comes, she comes, shame hide me ever from her,
  Would I were buried, or so far remov'd
  Light might not find me out, I dare not see her.

  Nay never hide your self; or were you hid
  Where earth hides all her riches, near her Center;
  My wrongs without more day would light me to you:
  I must speak e're I die; were all your greatness
  Doubled upon you, y'are a perjur'd man,
  And only mighty in your wickedness
  Of wronging women. Thou art false, false Prince;
  I live to see it, poor Spaconia lives
  To tell thee thou art false; and then no more;
  She lives to tell thee thou art more unconstant,
  Than all ill women ever were together.
  Thy faith is firm as raging over-flowes,
  That no bank can command; as lasting
  As boyes gay bubbles, blown i'th' Air and broken:
  The wind is fixt to thee: and sooner shall
  The beaten Mariner with his shrill whistle
  Calm the loud murmur of the troubled main,
  And strike it smooth again; than thy soul fall
  To have peace in love with any: Thou art all
  That all good men must hate; and if thy story
  Shall tell succeeding ages what thou wert,
  O let it spare me in it, lest true lovers
  In pity of my wrong, burn thy black Legend,
  And with their curses, shake thy sleeping ashes.

  The destinies, I hope, have pointed out
  Our ends, that thou maist die for love,
  Though not for me; for this assure thy self,
  The Princess hates thee deadly, and will sooner
  Be won to marry with a Bull, and safer
  Than such a beast as thou art: I have struck,
  I fear, too deep; beshrow me for't; Sir,
  This sorrow works me like a cunning friendship,
  Into the same piece with it; 'tis asham'd,
  Alas, I have been too rugged: Dear my Lord,
  I am sorry I have spoken any thing,
  Indeed I am, that may add more restraint
  To that too much you have: good Sir, be pleas'd
  To think it was a fault of love, not malice;
  And do as I will do, forgive it Prince.
  I do, and can forgive the greatest sins
  To me you can repent of; pray believe.

Have you been carefull of our noble Prisoner,
That he want nothing fitting for his greatness?

More than the strictness of this place can give Sir,
I offer back again to great Arbaces.

  We thank you worthy Prince, and pray excuse us,
  We have not seen you since your being here,
  I hope your noble usage has been equall
  With your own person: your imprisonment,
  If it be any, I dare say is easie,
  And shall not last t[w]o dayes.

  I thank you;
  My usage here has been the same it was,
  Worthy a royal Conqueror. For my restraint,
  It came unkindly, because much unlook'd for;
  But I must bear it.

  His fit begins to take him now again,
  'Tis a strange Feaver, and 'twill shake us all anon, I fear,
  Would he were well cur'd of this raging folly:

  Give me the warrs, where men are mad, and may talk what they
  list, and held the bravest fellows; This pelting prating peace is
  good for nothing: drinking's a vertue to't.

I see there's truth in no man, nor obedience,
But for his own ends, why did you let her in?

It was your own command to barr none from him,
Besides, the Princess sent her ring Sir, for my warrant.

  I do not use to lie Sir,
  'Tis no way I eat or live by, and I think,
  This is no token Sir.

This combat has undone him: if he had been well beaten, he had been temperate; I shall never see him handsome again, till he have a Horse-mans staffe yok'd thorow his shoulders, or an arm broken with a bullet.

You never knew me so, Sir I dare speak it,
And durst a worse man tell me, though my better—

I will, Sir, and say openly, this woman carries letters,
By my life I know she carries letters, this woman does it.

Would Bessus were here to take her aside and search her, He would quickly tell you what she carried Sir.

If this hold, 'twill be an ill world for Bawdes, Chamber-maids and Post-boyes, I thank heaven I have none I but his letters patents, things of his own enditing.

This woman shall carry no more letters back to your
Love Panthea, by Heaven she shall not, I say she shall not.

Take'em away both, and together let them prisoners be, strictly and closely kept, or Sirra, your life shall answer it, and let no body speak with'em hereafter.

  Well, I am subject to you,
  And must indure these passions:
  This is the imprisonment I have look'd for always.
  And the dearer place I would choose.

  I have no letters Sir to anger you,
  But a dry sonnet of my Corporals
  To an old Suttlers wife, and that I'll burn, Sir.
  'Tis like to prove a fine age for the Ignorant.

How darst thou so often forfeit thy life?
Thou know'st 'tis in my power to take it.

  Who shall tell you of these childish follies
  When I am dead? who shall put to his power
  To draw those vertues out of a flood of humors,
  When they are drown'd, and make'em shine again?
  No, cut my head off:
  Then you may talk, and be believed, and grow worse,
  And have your too self-glorious temper rot
  Into a deep sleep, and the Kingdom with you,
  Till forraign swords be in your throats, and slaughter
  Be every where about you like your flatterers.
  Do, kill me.

  Prethee be tamer, good Mardonius,
  Thou know'st I love thee, nay I honour thee,
  Believe it good old Souldier, I am thine;
  But I am rack'd clean from my self, bear with me,
  Woot thou bear with me my Mardonius?

  There comes a good man, love him too, he's temperate,
  You may live to have need of such a vertue,
  Rage is not still in fashion.

  She is Sir, till your pleasure to enlarge her,
  Which on my knees I beg. Oh 'tis not fit,
  That all the sweetness of the world in one,
  The youth and vertue that would tame wild Tygers,
  And wilder people, that have known no manners,
  Should live thus cloistred up; for your loves sake,
  If there be any in that noble heart,
  To her a wretched Lady, and forlorn,
  Or for her love to you, which is as much
  As nature and obedience ever gave,
  Have pity on her beauties.

  Pray thee stand up; 'Tis true, she is too fair,
  And all these commendations but her own,
  Would thou had'st never so commended her,
  Or I nere liv'd to have heard it Gobrias;
  If thou but know'st the wrong her beautie does her,
  Thou wouldst in pity of her be a lyar,
  Thy ignorance has drawn me wretched man,
  Whither my self nor thou canst well tell: O my fate!
  I think she loves me, but I fear another
  Is deeper in her heart: How thinkst thou Gobrias?

I do beseech your Grace believe it not,
For let me perish if it be not false. Good Sir, read her Letter.

This Love, or what a devil it is I know not, begets more mischief than a Wake. I had rather be well beaten, starv'd, or lowsie, than live within the Air on't. He that had seen this brave fellow Charge through a grove of Pikes but t'other day, and look upon him now, will ne'r believe his eyes again: if he continue thus but two days more, a Taylor may beat him with one hand tied behind him.

  Alas, she would be at liberty.
  And there be a thousand reasons Gobrias,
  Thousands that will deny't:
  Which if she knew, she would contentedly
  Be where she is: and bless her vertues for it,
  And me, though she were closer, she would, Gobrias,
  Good man indeed she would.

  Then good Sir, for her satisfaction,
  Send for her and with reason make her know
  Why she must live thus from you.

  Y'are very welcome both; some stools boy,
  And reach a Table; Gentlemen o'th' Sword,
  Pray sit without more complement; be gone child.
  I have been curious in the searching of you,
  Because I understand you wise and valiant persons.

  Nay Gentlemen, and dear friends o'th' Sword,
  No complement I pray, but to the cause
  I hang upon, which in few, is my honour.

Stay there a little Sir, do you doubt a beating?
Or have you had a beating by your Prince?

  If he have beaten him, I grant the case;
  But how? we cannot be too subtil in this business,
  I say, but how?

Those blows o'th' face have made a new cause on't,
The rest were but an horrible rudeness.

Two blows o'th' face, and given by a worse man, I must confess, as the Sword-men say, had turn'd the business: Mark me brother, by a worse man; but being by his Prince, had they been ten, and those ten drawn teeth, besides the hazard of his nose for ever; all this had been but favours: this is my flat opinion, which I'le die in.

The King may do much Captain, believe it; for had he crackt your Scull through, like a bottle, or broke a Rib or two with tossing of you, yet you had lost no honour: This is strange you may imagine, but this is truth now Captain.

There is another: a new cause rising from the time and distance, in which I will deliver my opinion: he may strike, beat, or cause to be beaten: for these are natural to man: your Prince, I say, may beat you, so far forth as his dominion reacheth, that's for the distance; the time, ten miles a day, I take it.

Brother, you err, 'tis fifteen miles a day,
His stage is ten, his beatings are fifteen.

  Obedience ever makes that noble use on't,
  To which I dedicate my beaten body;
  I must trouble you a little further, Gentlemen o'th' Sword.

  No trouble at all to us Sir, if we may
  Profit your understanding, we are bound
  By vertue of our calling to utter our opinions,
  Shortly, and discreetly.

Not to flatter my self in it, all over, my sword forc'd but not lost; for discreetly I rendred it to save that imputation.

Brother, this is a pretty cause, pray ponder on't;
Our friend here has been kick'd.

Sorely he saies: Now, had he set down here
Upon the meer kick, 't had been Cowardly.

  But our friend has redeem'd it in delivering
  His sword without compulsion; and that man
  That took it of him, I pronounce a weak one,
  And his kicks nullities.
  He should have kick'd him after the delivering
  Which is the confirmation of a Coward.

  I must not say so;
  Nor I must not hear it spoke by the tongue of man.
  You kick'd, dear brother! you're merry.

Let them put it that are things weary of their lives, and know not honour; put the case you were kick'd?

Nor no silly creature that wears his head without a Case, his soul in a Skin-coat: You kickt dear brother?

Nay Gentlemen, let us do what we shall do,
Truly and honest[l]y; good Sirs to the question.

A foolish forward zeal Sir, in my friend;
But to the Boy, suppose the Boy were kickt.

By no means Captain, let it be supposed still; the word grant, makes not for us.

Brother, I say you palter, the must three times together; I wear as sharp Steel as another man, and my Fox bites as deep, musted, my dear brother. But to the cause again.

And in this beaten scorn, as I may call it,
Delivers up his weapon; where lies the error?

The cause is mighty, but had it been two Lords,
And both had kick'd you, if you laugh, 'tis clear.

  My reason now, the valiant man is known
  By suffering and contemning; you have
  Enough of both, and you are valiant.

  If he be sure he has been kick'd enough:
  For that brave sufferance you speak of brother,
  Consists not in a beating and away,
  But in a cudgell'd body, from eighteen
  To eight and thirty; in a head rebuk'd
  With pots of all size, degrees, stools, and bed-staves,
  This showes a valiant man.

  Then I am valiant, as valiant as the proudest,
  For these are all familiar things to me;
  Familiar as my sleep, or want of money,
  All my whole body's but one bruise with beating,
  I think I have been cudgell'd with all nations,
  And almost all Religions.

  Sir, the world has taken notice what we have done,
  Make much of your body, for I'll pawn my steel,
  Men will be coyer of their legs hereafter.

I must request you goe along and testife to the Lord Bacurius, whose foot has struck me, how you find my cause.

We will, and tell that Lord he must be rul'd,
Or there are those abroad, will rule his Lordship.

  Leave us then alone,
  For the main cause of her imprisonment
  Must not be heard by any but her self.

  You're welcome Sister, and would to heaven
  I could so bid you by another name:
  If you above love not such sins as these,
  Circle my heart with thoughts as cold as snow
  To quench these rising flames that harbour here.

  Please me?
  I, more than all the art of musick can,
  Thy speech doth please me, for it ever sounds,
  As thou brought'st joyfull unexpected news;
  And yet it is not fit thou shouldst be heard.
  I pray thee think so.

   Be it so, I will.
  Am I the first that ever had a wrong
  So far from being fit to have redress,
  That 'twas unfit to hear it? I will back
  To prison, rather than disquiet you,
  And wait till it be fit.

  No, do not goe;
  For I will hear thee with a serious thought:
  I have collected all that's man about me
  Together strongly, and I am resolv'd
  To hear thee largely, but I do beseech thee,
  Do not come nearer to me, for there is
  Something in that, that will undoe us both.

  Yes, to me;
  Though of thy self I think thee to be
  In equall degree of heat or cold,
  As nature can make: yet as unsound men
  Convert the sweetest and the nourishing'st meats
  Into diseases; so shall I distemper'd,
  Do thee, I pray thee draw no nearer to me.

  Sir, this is that I would: I am of late
  Shut from the world, and why it should be thus,
  Is all I wish to know.

  Why credit me Panthea,
  Credit me that am thy brother,
  Thy loving brother, that there is a cause
  Sufficient, yet unfit for thee to know,
  That might undoe thee everlastingly,
  Only to hear, wilt thou but credit this?
  By Heaven 'tis true, believe it if thou canst.

  Children and fools are ever credulous,
  And I am both, I think, for I believe;
  If you dissemble, be it on your head;
  I'le back unto my prison: yet me-thinks
  I might be kept in some place where you are;
  For in my self, I find I know not what
  To call it, but it is a great desire
  To see you often.

  Fie, you come in a step, what do you mean?
  Dear sister, do not so: Alas Panthea,
  Where I am would you be? Why that's the cause
  You are imprison'd, that you may not be
  Where I am.

  Nay, you shall hear the case in short Panthea,
  And when thou hear'st it, thou wilt blush for me,
  And hang thy head down like a Violet
  Full of the mornings dew: There is a way
  To gain thy freedome, but 'tis such a one
  As puts thee in worse bondage, and I know,
  Thou wouldst encounter fire, and make a proof
  Whether the gods have care of innocence,
  Rather than follow it: Know that I have lost,
  The only difference betwixt man and beast,
  My reason.

  Nay 'tis gone;
  And I am left as far without a bound,
  As the wild Ocean, that obeys the winds;
  Each sodain passion throwes me where it lists,
  And overwhelms all that oppose my will:
  I have beheld thee with a lustfull eye;
  My heart is set on wickedness to act
  Such sins with thee, as I have been afraid
  To think of, if thou dar'st consent to this,
  Which I beseech thee do not, thou maist gain
  Thy liberty, and yield me a content;
  If not, thy dwelling must be dark and close,
  Where I may never see thee; For heaven knows
  That laid this punishment upon my pride,
  Thy sight at some time will enforce my madness
  To make a start e'ne to thy ravishing;
  Now spit upon me, and call all reproaches
  Thou canst devise together, and at once
  Hurle'em against me: for I am a sickness
  As killing as the plague, ready to seize thee.

  Far be it from me to revile the King:
  But it is true, that I shall rather choose
  To search out death, that else would search out me,
  And in a grave sleep with my innocence,
  Than welcome such a sin: It is my fate,
  To these cross accidents I was ordain'd,
  And must have patience; and but that my eyes
  Have more of woman in 'em than my heart,
  I would not weep: Peace enter you again.

  Farwell, and good Panthea pray for me,
  Thy prayers are pure, that I may find a death
  However soon before my passions grow
  That they forget what I desire is sin;
  For thither they are tending: if that happen,
  Then I shall force thee tho' thou wert a Virgin
  By vow to Heaven, and shall pull a heap
  Of strange yet uninvented sin upon me.

  Sir, I will pray for you, yet you shall know
  It is a sullen fate that governs us,
  For I could wish as heartily as you
  I were no sister to you, I should then
  Imbrace your lawfull love, sooner than health.

  So perfectly,
  That as it is, I ne're shall sway my heart,
  To like another.

  Then I curse my birth,
  Must this be added to my miseries
  That thou art willing too? is there no stop
  To our full happiness, but these meer sounds
  Brother and Sister?

  There is nothing else,
  But these alas will separate us more
  Than twenty worlds betwixt us.

  I have liv'd
  To conquer men and now am overthrown
  Only by words Brother and Sister: where
  Have those words dwelling? I will find 'em out,
  And utterly destroy 'em; but they are
  Not to be grasp'd: let 'em be men or beasts,
  And I will cut 'em from the Earth, or Towns,
  And I will raze 'em, and the[n] blow 'em up:
  Let 'em be Seas, and I will drink 'em off,
  And yet have unquencht fire left in my breast:
  Let 'em be any thing but meerly voice.

  Accursed man,
  Thou bought'st thy reason at too dear a rate,
  For thou hast all thy actions bounded in
  With curious rules, when every beast is free:
  What is there that acknowledges a kindred
  But wretched man? Who ever saw the Bull
  Fearfully leave the Heifer that he lik'd
  Because they had one Dam?

  I will not be so foolish as I was,
  Stay, we will love just as becomes our births,
  No otherwise: Brothers and Sisters may
  Walk hand in hand together; so will we,
  Come nearer: is there any hurt in this?

  Faith there is none at all:
  And tell me truly now, is there not one
  You love above me?

  But is there nothing else,
  That we may do, but only walk? methinks
  Brothers and Sisters lawfully may kiss.

  And so they may Panthea, so will we,
  And kiss again too; we were too scrupulous,
  And foolish, but we will be so no more.

  If you have any mercy, let me go
  To prison, to my death, to any thing:
  I feel a sin growing upon my blood,
  Worse than all these, hotter than yours.

Sir, the King has seen your Commission, and believes it, and freely by this warrant gives you power to visit Prince Tigranes, your Noble Master.

You serve a worthy person, and a stranger I am sure you are; you may imploy me if you please without your purse, such Offices should ever be their own rewards.

  I may have need of you, and then this courtesie,
  If it be any, is not ill bestowed;
  But may I civilly desire the rest?
  I shall not be a hurter if no helper.

  Sir you shall know I have lost a foolish Daughter,
  And with her all my patience, pilfer'd away
  By a mean Captain of your Kings.

  Stay there Sir:
  If he have reacht the Noble worth of Captain,
  He may well claim a worthy Gentlewoman,
  Though she were yours, and Noble.

  I grant all that too: but this wretched fellow
  Reaches no further than the empty name
  That serves to feed him; were he valiant,
  Or had but in him any noble nature
  That might hereafter promise him a good man,
  My cares were so much lighter, and my grave
  A span yet from me.

  I confess such fellows
  Be in all Royal Camps, and have and must be,
  To make the sin of Coward more detested
  In the mean souldier that with such a foil
  Sets off much valour. By description
  I should now guess him to you, it was Bessus,
  I dare almost with confidence pronounce it.

  Captain do you call him?
  Believe me Sir, you have a misery
  Too mighty for your age: A pox upon him,
  For that must be the end of all his service:
  Your Daughter was not mad Sir?

I would fain counsel you, but to what I know not, he's so below a beating, that the Women find him not worthy of their Distaves, and to hang him were to cast away a Rope; he's such an Airie, thin unbodyed Coward, that no revenge can catch him: I'le tell you Sir, and tell you truth; this Rascal fears neither God nor man, he has been so beaten: sufferance has made him Wainscot: he has had since he was first a slave, at least three hundred Daggers set in's head, as little boys do new Knives in hot meat, there's not a Rib in's body o' my Conscience that has not been thrice broken with dry beating: and now his sides look like two Wicker Targets, every way bended; Children will shortly take him for a Wall, and set their Stone-bows in his forehead, he is of so base a sense, I cannot in a week imagine what shall be done to him.

  Sure I have committed some great sin
  That this fellow should be made my Rod,
  I would see him, but I shall have no patience.

'Tis no great matter if you have not: if a Laming of him, or such a toy may do you pleasure Sir, he has it for you, and I'le help you to him: 'tis no news to him to have a Leg broken, or Shoulder out, with being turn'd o'th' stones like a Tansie: draw not your Sword if you love it; for on my Conscience his head will break it: we use him i'th' Wars like a Ram to shake a wall withal. Here comes the very person of him, do as you shall find your temper, I must leave you: but if you do not break him like a Bisket, you are much to blame Sir.

Then Ca[p]tain Bessus, you are a rank rascall, without more exordiums, a durty frozen slave; and with the favor of your friends here I will beat you.

Sir, you shall have it quickly, and more beating, you have stoln away a Lady, Captain coward, and such an one.

Hold, I beseech you, hold Sir, I never yet stole any living thing that had a tooth about it.

With none but Summer Whores upon my life Sir, my means and manners never could attempt above a hedge or hay-cock.

Sirra, that quits not me, where is this Lady? do that you do not use to do; tell truth, or by my hand, I'le beat your Captains brains out, wash'em, and put 'em in again, that will I.

There was a Lady Sir, I must confess, once in my charge: the Prince Tigranes gave her to my guard for her safety, how I us'd her, she may her self report, she's with the Prince now: I did but wait upon her like a groom, which she will testife I am sure: if not, my brains are at your service when you please Sir, and glad I have 'em for you.

Well I can ask no more, you will think it strange not to have me beat you at first sight.

Indeed I would, but I know your goodness can forget twenty beatings, you must forgive me.

Yes there's my hand, go where you will, I shall think you a valiant fellow for all this.

My da[u]ghter is a Whore, I feel it now too sensible; yet I will see her, discharge my self from being father to her, and then back to my Country, and there die, farwell Captain.

Gentlemen o'th'sword, your hands once more; I have been kickt agen, but the foolish fellow is penitent, has askt me Mercy, and my honour's safe.

There be our hands agen, now let him come and say he was not sorry, and he sleeps for it.

Alas good ignorant old man, let him go, let him go, these courses will undo him.

  My Lord, your authority is good, and I am glad it is so, for my
  consent would never hinder you from seeing your own King, I am a
  Minister, but not a governor of this State, yonder is your King,
  I'le leave you.

I do perceive my fault so much, that yet me thinks thou shouldst not have forgiven me.

Several businesses. My publick businesses will appear by this, I have a message to deliver, which if it please you so to authorize, is an embassage from the Armenian State, unto Arbaces for your liberty: the offer's there set down, please you to read it.

Though I have done nothing but what was good, I dare not see my
Father, it was fault enough not to acquaint him with that good.

Thou couldest prate unhappily ere thou couldst go, would thou couldst do as well, and how does your custome hold out here?

Do you take mony? are you come to sell sin yet? perhaps I can help you to liberal Clients: or has not the King cast you off yet? O thou vile creature, whose best commendation is, that thou art a young whore, I would thy Mother had liv'd to see this, or rather that I had died ere I had seen it; why didst not make me acquainted when thou wert first resolv'd to be a whore, I would have seen thy hot lust satisfied more privately: I would have kept a dancer and a whole consort of musicians in my own house only to fiddle thee.

Lyg. How has my age deserv'd so ill of you, that you can pick no strumpets i'th' land, but out of my breed?

Yes, and I wish to have you know, I scorn to get a whore for any prince alive, and yet scorn will not help methinks: my Daughter might have been spar'd, there were enow besides.

May I not prosper but she's innocent as morning light for me, and
I dare swear for all the world.

Why is she with you then? can she wait on you better than your man, has she a gift in plucking off your stockings, can she make Cawdles well or cut your cornes? Why do you keep her with you? For a Queen I know you do contemn her, so should I, and every subject else think much at it.

Then have I made a fair hand, I call'd her Whore. If I shall speak now as her Father, I cannot chuse but greatly rejoyce that she shall be a Queen: but if I shall speak to you as a States-man, she were more fit to be your whore.

Yes Sir, I will go, and shall she be a Queen? she had more wit than her old Father, when she ran away: shall she be Queen? now by my troth 'tis fine, I'le dance out of all measure at her wedding: shall I not Sir?

Farwell sweet vertuous Daughter, I never was so joyfull in all my life, that I remember: shall she be a Queen? Now I perceive a man may weep for joy, I had thought they had lyed that said so.

Urge it no more, I have made up a new strong constancy, not to be shook with eyes: I know I have the passions of a man, but if I meet with any subject that should hold my eyes more firmly than is fit, I'le think of thee, and run away from it: let that suffice.

My Lord, I have made bold to bring these Gentlemen, my friends o'th' Sword along with me.

Not that I have beaten you, but beaten one that will be beaten: one whose dull body will require a laming, as Surfeits do the diet, spring and fall; now to your Sword-men; what come they for, good Captain Stock-fish?

No, nor your nature neither, though they are things fitter I must confess for any thing, than my remembrance, or any honest mans: what shall these Billets do; be pil'd up in my wood-yard?

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

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

That would be a show indeed worth seeing: sirra be wise, and take Mony for this motion, travel with it, and where the name of Bessus has been known or a good Coward stirring, 'twill yield more than a tilting. This will prove more beneficial to you, if you be thrifty, than your Captainship, and more natural: men of most valiant hands is this true?

Lord, it is strange, yet true; we have examined from your Lordships foot there, to this mans head, the nature of the beatings; and we do find his honour is come off clean and sufficient: this as our swords shall help us.

You are much bound to your Bil-bow-men, I am glad you are straight again Captain; 'twere good you would think on some way to gratifie them, they have undergone a labour for you, Bessus would have puzl'd hercules with all his valour.

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

Yet there is something due, which I as toucht in Conscience will discharge Captain; I'le pay this Rent for you.

Something in hand the while, you Rogues, you Apple-squires: do you come hither with your botled valour, your windy froth, to limit out my beatings?

S'foot-what a heavy of beaten slaves are here! get me a Cudgel sirra, and a tough one.

I beseech your Lordship stay a little, my strap's tied to my Cod piece-point: now when you please.

What's that in your pocket, hurts my Toe you Mungril? Thy
Buttocks cannot be so hard, out with it quickly.

Here 'tis Sir, a small piece of Artillery, that a Gentleman a dear friend of your Lordships sent me with, to get it mended Sir, for if you mark, the nose is somewhat loose.

A friend of mine you Rascal? I was never wearier of doing any thing, than kicking these two Foot-balls.

My Lord, this is foul play i'faith, to put a fresh man upon us, men are but men Sir.

That jest shall save your bones; Captain, Rally up your rotten Regiment and be gone: I had rather thrash than be bound to kick these Rascals, till they cry'd ho; Bessus you may put your hand to them now, and then you are quit. Farewel, as you like this, pray visit me again, 'twill keep me in good health.

If he kick thus i'th' Dog-daies, he will be dry foundred: what cure now Captain besides Oyl of Baies?

Yes, heaven be thanked; but I feel a shrowd ach, sure h'as sprang my huckle-bone.

A little butter, friend a little butter, butter and parseley and a soveraign matter: probatum est.

Yes marry shall ye, and then let all the world come, we are valiant to our selves, and there's an end.

It is resolv'd, I bare it whilst I could, I can no more, I must begin with murther of my friends, and so go on to that incestuous ravishing, and end my life and sins with a forbidden blow, upon my self.

What Tragedy is near? That hand was never wont to draw a sword, but it cry'd dead to something.

Why Sir, are you thus? why do your hands proclaim a lawless War against your self?

And now you take new rage into your eyes, as you would look us all out of the Land.

It is my duty. I fear you will kill your self: I am a subject, and you shall do me wrong in't: 'tis my cause, and I may speak.

Thou art not train'd in sin, it seems Mardonius: kill my self! by Heaven I will not do it yet; and when I will, I'le tell thee then: I shall be such a creature, that thou wilt give me leave without a word. There is a method in mans wickedness, it grows up by degrees: I am not come so high as killing of my self, there are a hundred thousand sins 'twixt me and it, which I must doe, and I shall come to't at last; but take my oath not now, be satisfied, and get thee hence.

Why so? what folly is this in thee, is it not as apt to mischief as it was before? can I not reach it thinkst thou? these are toyes for Children to be pleas'd with, and not men, now I am safe you think: I would the book of fate were here, my Sword is not so sure but I would get it out and mangle that, that all the destinies should quite forget their fixt decrees, and hast to make us new, for other fortunes, mine could not be worse, wilt thou now leave me?

Go, thou art honest, why should the hasty error of my youth be so unpardonable to draw a sin helpless upon me?

Draw near thou guilty man, that art the authour of the loathedst crime five ages have brought forth, and hear me speak; curses more incurable, and all the evils mans body or his Spirit can receive be with thee.

Why do I curse thee? if there be a man subtil in curses, that exceeds the rest, his worst wish on thee, thou hast broke my heart.

How Sir, have I preserv'd you from a child, from all the arrows, malice, or ambition could shoot at you, and have I this for my pay?

'Tis true, thou didst preserve me, and in that wert crueller than hardned murtherers of infants and their Mothers! thou didst save me only till thou hadst studied out a way how to destroy me cunningly thy self: this was a curious way of torturing.

Thou knowst the evils thou hast done to me; dost thou remember all those witching letters thou sent'st unto me to Armenia, fill'd with the praise of my beloved Sister, where thou extol'st her beauty, what had I to do with that? what could her beauty be to me? and thou didst write how well she lov'd me, dost thou remember this? so that I doted something before I saw her.

Is it? and when I was return'd thou knowst thou didst pursue it, till thou woundst me into such a strange and unbeliev'd affection, as good men cannot think on.

Be thine own sad judge, a further condemnation will not need, prepare thy self to dy.

Why shouldst thou live? was ever yet offender so impudent, that had a thought of Mercy after confession of a crime like this? get out I cannot where thou hurl'st me in, but I can take revenge, that's all the sweetness left for me.

No, yet I will be far more mercifull than thou wert to me; thou didst steal into me and never gav'st me warning: so much time as I give thee now, had prevented thee for ever. Notwithstanding all thy sins, if thou hast hope, that there is yet a prayer to save thee, turn and speak it to thy self.

My Father? though I know't for a lie, made out of fear to save thy stained life; the very reverence of the word comes cross me, and ties mine arm down.

I will tell you that shall heighten you again, I am thy Father, I charge thee hear me.

If it should be so, as 'tis most false, and that I should be found a Bastard issue, the despised fruit of lawless lust, I should no more admire all my wild passions: but another truth shall be wrung from thee: if I could come by the Spirit of pain, it should be poured on thee, till thou allow'st thy self more full of lies than he that teaches thee.

I will turn to thee, hear me thou Strumpet; I have blotted out the name of Mother, as thou hast thy shame.

My shame! thou hast less shame than any thing; why dost thou keep my Daughter in a prison? why dost thou call her Sister, and do this?

Cease thy strange impudence, and answer quickly if thou contemnest me, this will ask an answer, and have it.

Guilt [dare] not help guilt though they grow together in doing ill, yet at the [punishment] they sever, and each flies the noise of other, think not of help, answer.

To such a thing, as if it be a truth think what a creature thou hast made thy self, that didst not shame to do, what I must blush only to ask thee: tell me who I am, whose son I am without all circumstance, be thou as hasty as my Sword will be if thou refusest.

Then art thou all that ever was known bad, now is the cause of all my strange mis-fortunes come to light: what reverence expectest thou from a child, to bring forth which thou hast offended heaven, thy husband, and the Land? adulterous witch, I know now why thou wouldst have poyson'd me, I was thy lust which thou wouldst have forgot: then wicked Mother of my sins, and me, show me the way to the inheritance I have by thee: which is a spacious world of impious acts, that I may soon possess it: plagues rot thee, as thou liv'st, and such diseases, as use to pay lust, recompence thy deed.

Too well; you are a pair of Vipers; and behold the Serpent you have got; there is no beast but if he knew it, has a pedigree as brave as mine, for they have more descents, and I am every way as beastly got, as far without the compass of Law as they.

I will kneel, and hear with the obedience of a child; good Father speak, I do acknowledge you, so you bring comfort.

First know, our last King, your supposed Father was old and feeble when he married her, and almost all the Land thought she was past hope of issue from him.

Therefore she took leave to play the whore, because the King was old: is this the comfort?

What will you find out to give me satisfaction, when you find how you have injur'd me? let fire consume me, if ever I were a whore.

For-bear these starts, or I will leave you wedded to despair, as you are now: if you can find a temper, my breath shall be a pleasant western wind that cools and blasts not.

Bring it out good Father. I'le lie, and listen here as reverently as to an Angel: if I breath too loud, tell me; for I would be as still as night.

Our King I say, was old, and this our Queen desir'd to bring an heir, but yet her husband she thought was past it, and to be dishonest I think she would not: if she would have been, the truth is, she was watcht so narrowly, and had so slender opportunities, she hardly could have been: but yet her cunning found out this way; she feign'd her self with child, and posts were sent in hast throughout the Land, and humble thanks was given in every Church, and prayers were made for her safe going and delivery: she feign'd now to grow bigger, and perceiv'd this hope of issue made her fear'd, and brought a far more large respect from every man, and saw her power increase, and was resolv'd, since she believ'd, she could not hav't indeed, at least she would be thought to have a child.

Do I not hear it well? nay I will make no noise at all; but pray you to the point, quickly as you can.

Now when the time was full, she should be brought to bed, I had a Son born, which was you, this the Queen hearing of mov'd me to let her have you; and such reasons she shewed me, as she knew would tie my secrecie, she swore you should be King, and to be short, I did deliver you unto her, and pretended you were dead, and in mine own house kept a funeral, and had an empty coffin put in Earth, that night this Queen feign'd hastily to labour and by a pair of women of her own, which she had charm'd, she made the world believe she was delivered of you. You grew up as the Kings Son, till you were six years old; then did the King dye, and did leave to me Protection of the Realm; and contrary to his own expectation, left this Queen truely with child indeed, of the fair Princess Panthea: then she could have torn her hair and did alone to me, yet durst not speak in publick, for she knew she should be found a traytor: and her tale would have been thought madness, or any thing rather than truth. This was the only cause why she did seek to poyson you, and I to keep you safe; and this the reason, why I sought to kindle some sparks of love in you to fair Panthea, that she might get part of her right again.

And have you made an end now? is this all? if not,
I will be still till I be aged, till all my hairs be Silver.

Give consent? why I will have 'em all that know it rackt, to get this from 'em, all that wait without, come in, what ere you be, come in and be partakers of my joy, O you are welcome.

The Queen Mardonius, Panthea is the Queen and I am plain Arbaces; go some one, she is in Gobrias house, since I saw you there are a thousand things delivered to me, you little dream of.

Why do you keep your hats off Gentlemen? is it to me? I swear it must not be; nay, trust me, in good faith it must not be; I cannot now command you, but I pray you for the respect you bare me, when you took me for your King, each man clap on his hat at my desire.

We will, you are not found so mean a man, but that you may be cover'd as well as we, may you not?

Why there: O the whole story would be a wilderness to lose thy self for ever: O pardon me dear Father for all the idle and unreverent words that I have spoke in idle moods to you: I am Arbaces, we all fellow-subjects, nor is the Queen Panthea now my Sister.

Why if you remember fellow-subject Arbaces; I told you once she was not your sister: I, and she lookt nothing like you.

Here will arise another question now amongst the Sword-men, whether I be to call him to account for beating me, now he is proved no King.

I knew that was your business: you shall have your King again, and have him so again as never King was had, go one of you and bid Bacurius bring Tigranes hither; and bring the Lady with him, that Panthea, the Queen Panthea sent me word this [morning], was brave Tigranes mistress.

She is so: I could now tell any thing I never heard: your King shall go so home, as never man went.

He shall have chariots easier than air that I will have invented; and ne're think one shall pay any ransome, and thy self that art the messenger, shalt ride before him on a horse cut out of an intire Diamond, that shall be made to go with golden wheeles, I know not how yet.

Why I shall be made for ever? they beli'd this King with us, and said he was unkind.

And then thy Daughter, she shall have some strange thing, wee'l have the Kingdom sold utterly, and put into a toy which she shall wear about her carelesly some where or other. See the vertuous Queen; behold the humblest subject that you have kneel here before you.

Sir, Tigranes is coming though he made it strange at first, to see the Princess any more.

The Queen thou meanest, O my Tigranes. Pardon me, tread on my neck, I freely offer it, and if thou beest so given take revenge, for I have injur'd thee.

No, I forgive, and rejoyce more that you have found repentance, than I my liberty.

Mayest thou be happy in thy fair choice, for thou art temperate. You owe no ransom to the state, know that I have a thousand joyes to tell you of, which yet I dare not utter till I pay my thanks to Heaven for 'em: Will you go with me and help me? pray you do.

Take then your fair one with you; and you Queen of goodness and of us, O give me leave to take your arm in mine: come every one that takes delight in goodness, help to sing loud thanks for me, that I am prov'd no King.

On the back of the last page is printed a list of books printed or sold by William Leake.

A contains on the title-page a wood-cut representing Arbaces with his crown partly lifted from his head by a hand emerging from a cloud.

To the Right Worshipfull and Worthie Knight, Sir Henrie Nevill. Worthy Sir, I Present, or rather returne unto your view, that which formerly hath beene received from you, hereby effecting what you did desire: To commend the worke in my unlearned method, were rather to detract from it, then to give it any luster. It sufficeth it hath your Worships approbation and patronage, to the commendation of the Authors, and incouragement of their further labours: and thus wholy committing my selfe and it to your Worships dispose I rest, ever readie to doe you service, not onely in the like, but in what I may.

p. 149, l. 4. A and B omit the List of Persons Represented in the Play. C—F] The Personated Persons. G] The Persons Represented. G omits] in the Play. G includes in its List of The Persons Represented the names of the players of the chief parts, viz.] Arbaces, Mr Hart; Tigranes, Mr Kynaston; Gobrias, Mr Wintershall; Bacurius, Mr Lydall; Mardonius, Mr Mohun; Bessus, Mr Lacy, or Mr Shottrell; Lygones, Mr Cartwright; Two Sword-men, Mr Watson, Mr Haynes; Arane, Mrs Corey; Panthea, Mrs Cox; Spaconia, Mrs Marshall. l. 12. Folio misprints] Ligoces. l. 21. C—G and Folio] The Queenes Mother. l. 27. A—G omit] Actus primus. Scena prima. G] Act I. l. 29. A omits] he. ll. 35 and 36. B] had's.

p. 150, l. 2. A] them. l. 3. A] thou art. l. 5. A] and thou couldst. l. 8. A] with me. l. 9. A—F] winkst. G] winkedst. l. 10. A] strake. 1. 17. A] I am glad. l. 19. A] of his owne. l. 21. A] cruddles. B and G] crudles. l. 22. A] wouldst. A] in this passion. l. 25. A] for it. I. 26. A] neither good Bessus. l. 27. A] it is. l.30. A] I famed, I, I warrant you. I. 31. A] I am verie heartily. I. 32. A] ever. A] ath' warres. B—G omit] is. l. 39. A, B and G] in shifting a.

p. 151, 11. 4 and 5. A] desperate. l. 5. A omits] At. l. 8. A] Prethee. l. 9. A, B and G] The Souldier. l. 10. A] meerely. l. 12. E] compasion. F] compassion. l. 14. B—F] a'th. l. 19. A, B and G] not I. l. 21. A] mean'st. B, C and G] meant'st. D, E and F] meanest. l. 26. A] the enemie. B] shouldest. l. 31. A—G] proceedst. l. 33. A] Come, come. l. 34. A] comst. l. 37. A] extreamities. l. 40. A] the prey.

p. 152, ll. 1 and 2. In place of these lines A] Enter Arbaces and Tigranes, with attendants. l. 2. B and C] two Kings, &c. The two Gentlemen. l. 4. A] fall victorie. l. 9. A—G] are free as I. l. 18. A, B, C and G] yeare. l. 27. A omits] Tigr. l. 28. A—D and G] Arbaces. l. 29. A] talkt: for in Armenia.

p. 153, l. 11. A] Tigranes, no. l. 16. A] an Act. l. 17. A and G] Fit for a God. B—F omit] man. l. 20. A] Its. l. 26. A] spoke. A] not mee. l. 40. A] are something.

p. 154, l. 8. A] to take. B and G] her for to take. l. 17. A] no owne of. l. 18. A] Would finde. l. 19. A] off her damning. l. 20. A] twenty times. l. 29. Folio] sight. l. 40. A] Some two.

p. 155, l. 3. For Exit Tigranes A] Exe. l. 8. B and G omit] don't. A] don. l. 20. A] ift. l. 21. A and G] with you. l. 22. A] sunke. l. 28. A] th' eare. l. 29. B and G] runne about his head. A] bloud runne abouts head. l. 30. A] didst thou learn that at. B—F] learn'st that at. G] learn'st thou that at. l. 31. A] Pust, did I not. l. 33. A—F] Talke. l. 34. A] While you. A—G] words.

p. 156, l. 6. A] to a chaire. l. 8. A—F] other. A] will take. l. 14. A] give mee audience. G omits] me. l. 16. A] soone one of you. ll. 29 and 30. G omits] but I am grown To balk, but I defie. l. 30. A] but I desire, let. l. 32. B, C and G] draulst. D] drawlst. l. 34. G] in an instant. l. 36. A] An't. l. 38. A, B and G] As yet you. l. 39. A] command mee else.

p. 157, l. 11. B, C and G] Were great as. l. 12. A] that I might. l. 14. A] with. l. 28. A omits] puffe. B and G omit the bracket, and print 'puffe' in roman type as part of the speech. l. 29. D, E and F] rules. l. 34. A] Will you be gone. l. 35. A] My word mooves. C—F] My words moves. l. 36. A] 2 Gent. l. 39. A] That they will. B omits] you. A omits] Exeunt all but Arb. and Mar. l. 40. Folio] the.

p. 158, l. 7. Folio] scare. l. 17. A] doted, because. B—F omit] it. l. 35. A omits] but. A] of your faults. l. 39. A] above the earth.

p. 159, l. 4. Folio] safe. l. 15. A, B and G] would. l. 21. A] these wilde moodes. l. 22. A] honest. l. 23. A, B and G] would. l. 25. A] would. l. 34. A, B, C and G] Give thee. l. 37. Folio misprints] paron. l. 40. C] doest. F omits] I.

p. 160, l. 4. B, C and D] i' thine eare. F] thy eare. l. 10. A] Ith those. G] in those. l. 12. B] they wenches. l. 18. B by mistake Adds] Enter Bessus, and the two Gent. l. 22. A omits this stage-direction. l. 25. A] I am. l. 26. A] 1 Gent. l. 27. A] 2 Gent. l. 30. A] I bad you; halfe. l. 31. A] An't. l. 35. A] Panthan. l. 38. A] will not. l. 39. A omits] Sir.

p. 161, l. 6. E and F] a good an opinion. l. 15. A omits] a. G] Enter a Messenger, with a Packet. l. 21. A] Thanke thee for. l. 29. A] teares enough. B—F] tears I'now. G] tears Enow. l. 32. C—F] set her.

p. 162, l. 2. A] now has hired. l. 7. F] them. l. 12. A] laden. l. 16. E and F] that come. l. 18. A—D and G] mourning. l. 19. A] her sacred dew. l. 32. A] prayers. l. 34. A] dangers. l. 35. A omits] Exeunt.

p. #163#, l. 3. A, B and G] either loves. l. 7. A—G] place. A] unfortunately too light. l. 17. A omits] thee. l. 24. Folio] make. l. 31. B and G] gi'n. A, B and G] to. l. 33. A] would place.

p. #164#, l. 11. Folio misprints] could. l. 15. A—G] requires. A] more speed. l. 18. B] He shall not doe so Lord. l. 21. A Adds] Finis Actus Primi. B and C Add] The end of the First Act. l. 24. A] attendance. G Adds] and Guards.

p. #165#, l. 5. A] paid downe. l. 20. A] let light. l. 25. A—D] eare. l. 30. A] another woman. l. 36. A] twill. F] 'twood not. l. 37. F omits] not.

p. #, l. 9. A] mine own. l. 21. B—F] a did. l. 23. A] held time. l. 25. A—G with variations in spelling] my Lord Protectour. l. 29. Folio misprints] Cammanders.

p. #167#, l. 7. A omits] as you. l. 12. A, B and G] prayers are. A] I will. l. 20. A omits] Arane. l. 23. A] Betweene. l. 36. A] heare it. l. 37. A] I, I prethee.

p. #168#, l. 1. F] Captain. l. 3. A] neere a Captaine. l. 4. A] of the. l. 7. A—G] whom. l. 11. A] prethee. l. 14. F] was given. l. 18. A] I, but I. l. 20. A] saide. ll. 21 and 22. A] when one. l. 23. A] Marshallists. l. 30. F] doest. l. 31. A] twas so. B—G] so 'twas. l. 36. A] An't. l. 37. A and B] neerer. G] nearer. l. 39. A] kindnesses.

p. #169#, l. 1. A and G] Thalestris. l. 10. A] for her honestie. l. 17. A] on her. l. 33. A Adds] Exit. B—G with various abbreviations Add] Exit Bessus. l. 34. A, B and G Add] Exit. l. 35. A—G omit stage-direction. l. 39. F] speeks them.

p. #170#, l. 1. A] vertuous. l. 6. A] or feeles. l. 7. A—G] hope. l. 11. A—D and G] love. l. 16. E and F] where bargain'd. l. 18. A] find time worthy. l. 20. A, B and G] there is. l. 22. A] with this. l. 27. A] to see you Madam. l. 29. A omits] Gob. l. 35. A omits] Exeunt Women.

p. #171#, l. 9. F] a stake. l.14. F] if foole. l. 20. A] prethee. l.22. F] noble sharp. l. 33. A] desire too. E and F] his one desire.

p. #172#, l. i. A—D and G] those tender. l. 4. A, B and G] I shall. l. 13. B, C and F] Thalectris. l. 16. B, C and G] others. l. 26. A, B and G] women out. l. 29. A] say. l. 35. A—D and G] those. l. 37. A] places quickly. l. 38. A, D and F] a foote. B, C and E] afoote. G] afoot.

p. #173#, l. 2. A] looke. l. 5. A] Enter two Citizens wives, and Philip. l. 15. A, B and G] with me downe. l. 16. A] abed. l. 17. A] tis. l. 18. A] prethee. l. 29. A] In good faith. l.34. A] I. l. 35. A omits] you. l. 37. A] had thrusting. G] shoving. l. 38. A] hap to go.

p. #174#, l. 2. A] so on me. l. 5. A] have not. l. 10. A] law, thou art. A] there is. l. 11. A] thou art. A] of it. l. 12. A] he will never. l. 13. A] stripling. l. 17. A] you are. l. 18. B—F] cast. l. 19. A omits this line. l. 20. A—D and G] The King, the King, the King, the King. l. 21. A omits] Flourish. A] Enter Arbaces, Tigranes, Mardonius, and others. l. 23. E and F] I think. l. 29. A] without our blouds. B and G] but with our. G] bloud. l. 31. A] in your Townes. l. 32. A—D and G] about you; you may sit. l. 37. A, B and G] may you. F] you may fall. l. 38. A, B and G] when I.

p. 175, l. 5. E and F] beheld. l. 6. A] hearts. l. 9. A] Hang him, hang him, hang him. l. 13. A, B and G] was farre. l. 14. E and F] nor to revile. l. 15. A—D and G] the nature. l. 19. A] made that name. l. 21. C and D] and well for. l. 22. B—G] word. l. 25. A] commendations. l. 29. A] Thus my. l. 30. A] calles. l. 36. A] Eate at. l. 40. In place of this line A] Exeunt.

p. 176, l. 1. A omits one 'God bless your Majesty.' l. 7. A] n*. l. 10. A omits] so. B, C, D and G] women. A] Exeunt 1, 2, 3, and Women. l. 11. A—G] afore. l. 12. A] homeward. l. 13. A omits] all. l. 15. A] They are. A—G] heard on. l. 18. A Adds] Finis Actus Secundi. B and C Add] The end of the Second Act. l. 19. A] Actus Tertii Scaena Prima. l. 23. A] doth. l. 29. A—D and G] where you will have her. l. 37. A omits] I do hope she will not.

p. 177, l. 6. A] Sir, sheele not. l. 15. B and G] would. l. 18. C—F omit] you. l. 24. A omits] I Gent. and. l. 25. A] here's. l. 29. A] them. B and G Add] Exit Gobrias. l. 35. A omits] and two Gentlemen. G Adds] Attendants, and Guards.

p. 178, l. 11. A, B and G] sorrow. l. 14. A Adds] Exit. l. 15. A omits] Exit Arane. l. 32. G] words and kind ones. l. 35. C] doest. l. 36. D] forth my selfe. l. 38. A and G] thence. l. 40. A] wounded flesh.

p. 179, l. 1. A, B and G] a quill. l. 2. A, B, C and G] wanton wing. l. 3. A] in thy bloud. l. 16. A, B and G omit] it. l. 33. A by mistake gives the words 'some one that hath [A has] a wit, answer, where is she' to Gobrias, with the result that the names of the speakers of the following four speeches are transposed.

p. 180, l. 18. A] sleepe. l. 27. A] Is a long life of yet, I hope. l. 31. C, D and E] doest. ll. 33—35. A omits these lines.

p. 181, l. 11. A] If shee were any. l.14. D] dispute. l. 16. F and G] naked. l. 19. A, B and G] is she not. l. 39. A, B and G] your brother.

p. 182, l. 6. A] them. l. 8. A] yet so. l. 9. Folio prints] langish. l. 17. A] sudden change. l. 19. A, B and G] Pray God it doe. l. 24. A] prisoner. l. 31. A] in the.

p. 183, l. 13. A, B and G] And how dare you then. C and D] And how then dare you. l. 21. A, B and G] that breath. l. 24. A] law.

p. 184, l. 11*. A] subtiller. G] subtiler. l. 13. A and G] Tyrants. B] Tirants. F] mightest. l. 14. A] in the depth. B] i' the depth. C and G] i' the deepe. l. 18. A omits] Exeunt Tigr. and Bac. l. 21. G Adds] Exit Spaconia. l. 39. A and B] then to; here I. G] then too; here I.

p. 185, l. 11. A] still in doubt. l. 12. A] This, this third. l. 25. A, B, C and G] A poysoner. l. 26. A by mistake gives this speech to Bacurius and the following one to Gobrias. l. 32. A] had it twixt. A] Exeunt omnes, prae. Ar. Mar. G] Exeunt Gob. Pan. and Bes.

p. 186, l. 9. A] I prethee. l. 10. B and G] Am not I. l. 19. F] O do. l. 25. A] I prethee. l. 26. A Adds] Mar. I warrant ye. l. 28. G] of game. l. 30. B and G omit] it.

p. 187, l. 2. A] them. l. 3. A] In this state (omits I). B, C, D and G] I' this state. l. 4. B—F] b' the. A] with. l. 5. A] with. l. 10. A, B and G with variations of spelling] God cald. C and D] heaven cald. l. 11. A] pounds. l. 17. A and G] afraid. l. 21. G] A pox. A—G] of their. l. 23. A] of me. l. 24. A] freshly to account, worthily. l. 25. B and G omit] the. l. 26. A omits] a. l. 27. Here and throughout the scene '3 Gent' is in A described as 'Gent.' l. 30. A] you are. l. 32. A] he nothing doubts.

p. 188, l. 2. A—D, F and G with variations of spelling] O cry you mercie. E] O cir you mercy. l. 3. A, B, C and G with variations of spelling] agreeablie. l. 4. Here and in the following three lines A reads only one 'um' in place of three. l. 12. A by mistake omits] Bes. l. 19. A] plaine with you. l. 20. A] can doe him. A] resolutely. l. 21. B and C] hundreth. l. 22. F] no more. l. 23. A] pray ye. l. 26. A simply] Exit. l. 30. D] these two houres. l. 32. F omits] that. A] reserv'd. l. 34. A] are there. l. 35. A] likely to hold him this time here for mine. l. 36. B, C and G] yeare. D] these five yeares. l. 37. A] send me.

p. 189, l. 27. A] I prethee. l. 28. A—D and G] beate. l. 31. A] pounds. l. 32. A omits] well. F] well and walk sooner. l. 33. C] I do. l. 36. C] doest.

p. 190, l. 5. A—G] Come, unbuckle, quicke. l. 7. C—F] Unbuckle say. l. 17. A omits] Bac. l. 24. A] will I. l. 25. A] that this is all is left. G] that is left. l. 26. A omits] Bessus. l. 28. G] he's. l. 32. A, B and G] await. l. 35. A omits this stage-direction. l. 39. A] in their eyes.

p. 191, l. 3. A—G] lies. l. 5. A—G] vex me. l. 6. G] thou art. l. 8. A omits] do. l. 12. F] fire. l. 14. A, B and G] is not that. G] there is. l. 18. A, B and G] I shall not. l. 20. A—G] I know 'tis. l. 21. A] hath … 22. A] or fall. l. 34. A] of all this.

p. 192, l. 2. A, B and G] shall I. l. 6. A] But what, what should. B and G] should. l. 11. A, B and G] on more advice. l. 17. A omits] a. l. 19. Folio misprints] faithul. l. 21. F] doe't. l. 23. C—F] doest. l. 24. A, B and G] I hope I. l. 37. E and F] doest.

p. 193, l. 4. A, B and G] cause. l. 5. A, B, C and G omit] ha. l. 7. A, B, C and G] blow about the world. l. 8. A, B and G] his cause. l. 9. A] deare Mardonius. l. 12. A, B and G] Pray God you. l. 24. A, B and G] God preserve you, and mend you. l. 26. A, B and G] require. l. 30. A, B and G] use of. l. 32. A Adds] to them.

p. 194, l. 2. A] I am. l. 4. A, B, F and G] I am. A includes the words 'I am glad on't' in the following speech of Mardonius. l. 5. A, B and G] to that. ll. 7—9. A omits these lines. l. 11. A, B and G] occasions. l. 15. A, B, C and G] to the. l. 16. A—D and G] for his. l. 17. A omits] Mar. l. 19. A] Doe for. The letters 'ith' are in C cut off at the end of the line. l. 23. A, B and G] a thing. l. 26. G] would fain have thee. l. 27. A] understands. G] understandest. l. 30. A] dost make. l. 32. A, B and G] tell me, it shall. C has the same reading, though the word 'tell' is by mistake cut off from the end of the line. A omits] too. l. 35. A, B and C] and mayst yet.

p. 195, l. 2. A—D and G] that I have ever. l. 3. A, B and G omit] the. l. 8. A, B, C and G] your businesse. l. 12. A, B and G omit] now. l. 29. A—F] Gods and mans. l. 30. G] nature. l. 36. A Adds] Finis Actus Tertii. B and C Add] The end of the Third Act.

p. 196, l. 1. A] Actus Quarti Scaena Prima. l. 2. A—G omit] and. l. 11. A, B, C and G] Yet fearing since they. A] th' are many. l. 13. F] them. l. 14. F] them. l. 15. A] fearefull; if he. l. 18. A] labour out this. l. 19. A] against. ll. 25 and 26. A encloses the words 'never … humour' within brackets. l. 26. D, E and F] shot. l. 30. F] no farther. l. 33. A omits] But.

p. 197, l. 3. A Adds] Exit. l. 4. A omits] Exit Gob. l. 13. A] yours. l. 29. G] I'm. A] if no more. l. 36. B—G] these. l. 37. A] That have Authority. l. 38. F] besides.

p. 198, l. 1. A] words. l. 4. A] Ime. l. 12. A, B and G] Pray God. l. 13. A omits] in prison. l. 15. A and F] mine. A] turne. l. 27. A, B and G] deserv'd it. l. 33. A] griefes. l. 35. A] womans. F] woman. l. 36. A] lost. l. 39. G] unconstancy.

p. 199, l. 7. A] kill me Ladie. l. 9. A omits] Lady. l. 15. A] for were. l. 20. A] in the. l. 26. A, B and G] is as firme. l. 27. A] and as lasting. l. 28. A, B and G] in the. C] in th' ayre. l. 31. A] murmurs. l. 37. A—D and G] wrongs.

p. 200, l. 1. A by mistake omits] Spa. l. 2. A, B, C and G] Our ends alike. l. 9. A] hee's asham'd. l. 17. A] pray believe me. l. 19. A, B and G] No more. l. 20. A] and Mardonius. l. 32. A—G] outlast. Folio misprints] too. l. 38. A] is that.

p. 201, l. 5. A] know. l. 10. A] pratling. l. 11. A] to it. l. 15. A—G] Beside. l. 17. A] Sirra. l. 23. A] Staffe poak't. A, B, C and G] through. F] throw. l. 24. A—D and G] broke. l. 25. D, E and F] stifled with. l. 30. F] worst. l. 35. A] you may say Sir what. Folio misprints] you. l. 36. A gives this line to Mardonius.

p. 202, l. 3. A, B and G] I thank God. l. 5. A] doe it. l. 6. A omits] Doe. l. 13. A Adds] and a Souldier like a termogant. l. 16. A] let um be prisoners. l. 18. F] them. ll. 19 and 20. A gives these lines to Bacurius. ll. 21 and 22. A and G give these lines to Spaconia. l. 22. A, B, C and G] deare. l. 23. A] Ex. Bacu. with Tig. and Spa. l. 24. A, B, C and G] have you. l. 25. F] prove. l. 30. A] Sadlers. l. 32. A, D and F] darest. l. 33. A] knowest. l. 34. G] will not. l. 37. A] shall then tell. B] of this. l. 40. A] Where. F] them.

p. 203, l. 1. A Adds after off] doe, kill me. l. 2. A omits] worse. l. 4. A, B, C and G] a dead sleepe. l. 5. A] Like forraigne swords. l. 10. A] all thine. l. 12. G] Wilt. A] with me good Mardonius. l. 20. A, B and G] and all beautie. l. 22. F] she is not. l. 23. A] doe enlarge her. l. 26. A] that would have. l. 29. E and F] heat. l. 30. E] To here wretched. F omits] a. l. 38. A] knew of. B, C and D] knewst the.

p. 204, l. 7. A] is it. l. 15. A—D and G omit] a. l. 16. A omits] Thousands. E and F] Thousand. A] denie it. l. 18. A, B and G] vertue. l. 24. A omits] all. l. 26. A—G] stooles there boy. l. 32. A, B and G] and my deare. l. 33. B, C and G] to th' cause. l. 35. F omits this line. l. 37. A prints the words 'be wise, and speake truth' as the conclusion of the second Sword-man's speech.

p. 205, l. 4. A] If he have. l. 5. B—E] If a have. F] If I have. l. 12. A] case. l. 13. A, B and G] an honourable. l. 15. A, B and G] we Sword-men. l. 17. A, B and G] drawne ten teeth. A—G] beside. l. 18. A] all these. l. 21. B—E] a crackt. l. 22. A] with crossing. l. 26. A—G] There's. l. 30. A, B, C and G] mile. l. 32. A—G] mile. l. 34. A, B and C] 'Tis a the longest. G] o' the longest. l. 35. A by mistake gives this line to Bessus and the following speech to the first Sword-man.

p. 206, ll. 5 and 6. F] word forc'd. l. 9. A—D and G] case. l. 12. A] sit. G] sat. l. 13. A] it had. l. 15. E and F] delivery. l. 19. B—E] A should. F] And should. A—D and G] deliverie. l. 24. A] by th'. l. 25. A] you are. l. 28. A omits] the. l. 32. B and G] that we. l. 33. Folio misprints] honesty. A] good Sir to th'. l. 35. A] The boy may be supposd, hee's lyable; but kicke my brother.

p. 207, l. 7. A] Still the must. l. 9. A—D and G omit] I. A] againe, againe. l. 12. F omits] my. l. 20. A] at the kicke. l. 22. F] baren scorn, as I will call it. l. 27. A—G] sore indeed Sir. l. 29. A] the foole. l. 30. A] Ah Lords. l. 32. A, B, C and G] laught.

p. 208, l. 5. A—G] size, daggers. F] sizes. l. 16. A] To abide upon't. l. 20. A, B, C and G omit] me. F] Both get me. l. 21. F] cleane. l. 22. G] what you have done. l. 27. F] Go will, and tell. l. 28. A—D] Or there be. l. 29. A omits and before Gob. l. 33. A omits] Exit Gob. l. 34. A] you are. A, B, C and G] and I would. A, B and G] to God. l. 38. G] the rising. l. 39. B, C and G] I shall. l. 40. Folio misprints] Ban.

p. 209, l. 3. A] does. l. 6. A] I prethee. l. 8. A, B and G] I am. l. 23. A, B and G] In as equal a degree. C and D] In equal a degree. l. 27. A] I prethee. l. 33. C, D and E] and there is. E] no cause. F] and there is none can see.

p. 210, l. 6. D, E and F] stop. l. 11. A, B and G] God keepe you. l. 12. A, B and G] cause. l. 19. A] innocents. l. 20. A, B and G omit] that. l. 24. A, B and G] it is. l. 27. A, B and G] as it lists. l. 33. A encloses 'Which I beseech thee doe not' within brackets. l. 36. A, B and G] For God knows. l. 39. A] start eye to.

p. 211, l. 2. F] them. l. 5. A] should. l. 11. F] them. l. 20. A, B and G] sinnes. l. 32. A] no steppe.

p. 212, ll. 1-6 and 8. F] them. l. 2. A] them. l. 5. Folio] and them. l. 6. A] drinke them off. l. 25. A gives this line to Panthea. l. 27. D, E and F] brother. l. 29. B] i' this. l. 35. A omits] Why. l. 38. A, B and G] I know thou.

p. 213, l. 4. A, B and G omit too before scrupulous. ll. 8 and 9. In place of these lines G reads] I dare no longer stay. l. 9. A and B] hotter I feare then yours. l. 11. A, B and G] for God's sake. l. 14. A omits stage-direction. B and G omit] several wayes. A Adds] Finis Actus Quarti. B and C Add] The end of the Fourth Act. l. 15. A] Actus Quinti Scaena Prima. l. 19. A] leave to visit. l. 20. A] hands. l. 26. A] officers.

p. 214, l. 3. B—F] were a valiant. l. 6. A] something lighter. l. 28. A—D omit] he. G] h'as. l. 29. B—F] a was. l. 30. A] in his. E and F] in in's. l. 31. A—E] a my. F] in my. G] i'my. l. 33. A, B and G] like to wicker Targets. l. 35. A omits] he. A] so low a sence. l. 36. A] should. l. 38. A, B and G] That this strange fellow.

p. 215, l. 3. A—D and G] broke. A—G] or a shoulder out. A—F] ath' stones. l. 4. A] of my. l. 10. A omits] the. l. 13. Folio misprints] Catain. l. 16. A omits] Sword. l. 19. A] thus kicke you, and thus. B and G] thus kicke, and thus. l. 21. A—D and G] told you that. l. 23. A omits] Sword. A—F] a should. l. 25. A, B, C and G] a one. l. 26. A omits] beats him. l. 29. A, B and G] Sir I know. l. 30. A prints 'Bes.' at the beginning of the following line, thus making this line part of Lygones' speech.

p. 216, l. 6. A, B and G] you would. l. 7. A, B, C and G] strange now to have. l. 12. Folio misprints] danghter. l. 13. A, B and G] of being. l. 15. A omits] Lygo. l. 18. A omits] Sword. l. 19. A] ath' sword. l. 20. G] h'as. l. 23. A] a kick't. l. 24. A omits 'Bes.,' thus making this line part of the second Sword-man's speech. l. 25. A omits] Sword. A gives the words 'Now let him come and say he was not sorry, And he sleepes for it' to '2,' i.e., the second Sword-man. l. 26. B—F] a was not. B—F] a sleepes. l. 28. A omits] clear. G] Exeunt omnes. l. 34. A prints this stage-direction after the words 'There he is indeed' in l. 35.

p. 217, l. 3. A, B, C and G] businesse will. l. 5. B] the Armenia state. l. 9. F omits] is. l. 20. A—G] couldst prate. l. 28. A] vild. B and C] vilde. B—F] commendations. l. 30. A, B and G] or rather would I. l. 34. A and F] mine own. l. 38. A] and like it.

p. 218, l. 3. A] in the. B, C, D and G] i' the. l. 6. B misprints] my Prince. l. 8. A] beside. l. 12. A] men. l. 13. C] Cawdle. l. 14. A] your Queene. l. 21. A] should speake. l. 27. A] a Queene. l. 33. A, B and G] Good God. l. 37. A, B and G omit] all.

p. 219, l. 4. A] that shall. l. 6. A omits] all. l. 7. A] a servant. l. 11. A] and Swordmen. In A this stage-direction is printed after the following line. l. 15. A—F] ath' sword. l. 17. A—D and G omit] much. l. 20. A] I can aske. l. 23. A] will require launcing. l. 24. A] and full. l. 28. A omits] must. l. 31. A, B and G] God continue it. l. 32. F misprints] they to it.

p. 220, l. 5. The two Sword-men are throughout the scene referred to in A as '2' or '1.' l. 6. A omits 'Bac.,' thus giving the line to the second Sword-man. l. 13. A—G omit] on. F] them, that have. l. 16. A—F] ath' law. l. 22. F] That is. A] their paines. l. 26. A] ye rogues, ye apple-squiers. l. 31. A] a many of. F] a beautie of. l. 33. E] I do beseech. l. 35. A—F] A this side.

p. 221, l. 4. A] in your pocket slave, my key you. B and G] in your pocket slave, my toe. l. 5. A] with't. l. 11. A—G] doing nothing. l. 12. A omits this stage-direction. B] Enter Servant, Will. Adkinson. l. 13. A—D] Here's. l. 14. A] I am. A] prethee. l. 15. A] beate um. l. 17. A omits] Sir. l. 18. A omits] Captain, Rally. A] up with your. F] rally upon. l. 20. A] cride hold. l. 22. E and F] vit me. l. 23. A, B and G] breath. A omits] Exit Bac. l. 25. A] Ime sure I ha. l. 26. B—F] a kicke. B—F] a will. l. 27. C—F] beside. l. 29. A, B and G] yes, God be thanked. l. 33. A, B, C and G] is a. l. 34. A] hands.

p. 222, l. 2. A omits] clear. G] Exeunt omnes. l. 4. A—D and G] bore. After this line A Adds]—Hell open all thy gates, And I will thorough them; if they be shut, Ile batter um, but I will find the place Where the most damn'd have dwelling; ere I end, Amongst them all they shall not have a sinne, But I will call it mine: l. 5. A—D and G] friend. A, B and G] to an. l. 13. B, C and D] a comming. l. 14. A—G] does your hand. l. 19. This line from 'I can' and the next line are given by A to Mardonius. l. 24. A] humblier.

p. 223, l. 4. A, B and G omit] and. l. 12. A] thinkest. l. 13. G] these are tales. l. 15. A—D and G] should get. l. 17. A] Farre other Fortunes. l. 19. A, B and G] God put. G] temporall. l. 20. A Adds] Exit. B and. G Add] Exit Mar. l. 21. A—D and G] errors. l. 27. A, B and G omit] more. l. 35. A—D and G omit] my.

p. 224, l. 4. F] knowest. l. 9. A] doest. l. 12. A] and I when I. F] knowest. l. 16. B and F] meanst. l. 17. A, B, C and G] a lie. A, B and G] God and. l. 22. A, B and G] wouldst. l. 28. A] gavest. l. 31. A] your selfe. B and G] it thy selfe. l. 38. A and G] know it. l. 39. E and F] staind.

p. 225, l. 7. A, B, C and G] allowest. l. 15. C—F] doest … doest. l. 17. A—D and G] Cease thou strange. l. 18. A] contemn'st. ll. 20 and 21. Folio misprints] dear … punishnment. l. 35. A and C] expects. B] expectes. D] expectst. G] expect'st. l. 39. A] thou wicked.

p. 226, l. 10. A, B, C and G] of a law. l. 19. A omits] you. ll. 25 and 26. A—G] Land as she. l. 29. A misprints] Arb. l. 31. A—D and G omit] a.

p. 227, l. 2. A] opportunitie. ll. 4 and 5. A, B and G] and God was humbly thankt in every Church, That so had blest the Queene, and prayers etc. l. 12. A—D and G] quicke. l. 14. A] abed. l. 16. A] sware. l. 20. A] the Queene. l. 23. A—G] yeare. l. 28. A] her talke. l. 32. A] sparke. l. 35. A, B and G] till I am. A] are silver. l. 37. A omits] too. I. 38. A, B and G] yes God knowes.

p. 228, l. 2. A by mistake omits] Gob. A] dare. l, 3. A] them. l. 4. A—G] waites. l. 7. A] Ent. Mar. Bessus, and others. l. 8. A omits] Arb. A] Mardonius, the best. B misprints] Mar. l. 11. E and F] happie. l. 14. A] On, call. l. 19. A omits] Exit a Gent. l. 24. A omits] I swear it must not be; nay, trust me. l. 26. B and C] beare. l. 28. A] but you are not.

p. 229, l. 1. A] I say she. l. 8. A] Armenian king. I. 15. Folio misprints] morrning. l. 16. A omits this stage-direction. l. 24. A and G] He shall. B] A shall. C] An shall. l. 25. A—G] shall. l. 26. F omits] that. l. 31. A misprints] thinke. l. 35. In place of this stage-direction A after the word 'Queen' in l. 33 reads] Enter Pan.

p. 230, l. 6. A gives this speech to Mardonius. l. 7. A omits] at first. l. 8. In A this stage-direction occurs after 'Queen' in the following line. l. 14. A and F] Maist. G] May'st. l. 17. F] them. l. 20. A—G] your Queene. l. 23. A—G Add] Finis.

A KING AND NO KING. VERSE AND PROSE VARIATIONS [1].

p. 152, ll. 8 and 9. A—D and G] 3 ll. dare, day, I. l. 27. A] 2 ll. of, thus. ll. 33—35. A] 3 ll. Earth, Prince, Acts.

p. 159, ll. 3—8. A—D and G] 8 ll. praise, worthy, death, lies, there, though, dust, envy. ll. 11 and 12. A—D and G] 3 ll. windes, I, speake. ll. 29—38. A—D and G] 14 ll. lives, said, truth, bin, see, parts, world, farre, yeares, mee, thee, wilt, I, thus. l. 40 and p. 160, ll. 1—4. A—D and G] 6 ll. Take, which, love, I, mee, eare.

p. 161, ll. 21 and 22. A—D and G] 3 ll. newes, not, Gobrias. ll. 27—33. A—D and G] 9 ll. farre, sinnes, teares, feele, brest, stand, eyes, world, me. ll. 37—39 and p. 162, ll. 1—7. A—D and G] 14 ll. know, died, life, pardon'd, fit, olde, thence, out, there, live, me, deathes, life, him.

p. 163, ll. 16—22. A, B, C and G] 9 ll. of (C = halfe), free, thine, prisoner, force, me, unwilling, Tigranes, there. D] 7 ll. halfe, free, thine, force, me, Tigranes, there.

p. 164, ll. 1 and 2. A—D and G] 2 ll. health, jealous. ll. 25—35 and p. 165, ll. 1 and 2. A—D and G] 16 ll. regard, prisoner, escape, prisoner, woman, me, say, her, Lord, grace, arme, womanhood, death, sonne, why, speake.

p. 165, ll. 14—17. A—D and G] 5 ll. Time, know, thinke, heart, urgd. ll. 35 and 36. A—D and G] 2 ll. it, believ'd. ll. 38 and 39. A—D and G] 3 ll. you, die, uncredited (D = should).

p. 166, ll. I and 2. A—D and G] 4 ll. Then, me, King, plots (D adds l. 3). ll. 5—8. A—D and G] 5 ll. me, content, power, me, done. ll. 19—23. A—and G] Prose. ll. 25 and 26. A] These, these.

p. 167, ll. 9 and 10. A] 2 ll. well, so. l. 19. A—D and G] 2 ll. readie, morrow. ll. 21—28. A] 10 ll. hereafter, office, discourse, how, victorie, doe, danger, long, while, beate. ll. 21—24. B—D and G] 4 ll. hereafter, office, discourse, victory. ll. 25—28. B—D and G] Prose.

p. 168, ll. 11 and 12. A—D and G] 2 ll. Bessus, nothing. ll. 39 and 40. A—D and G] 2 ll. kindnesses, name.

p. 169, ll. 2—5. A—D and G] 5 ll. letter, enough, you, me, me. ll. 25 and 26. A and G] 2 ll. Already, foolish. ll. 37—40 and p. 170, ll. 1—4. A—D and G] 12 ll. Lord, live, um, Just, um, mee, heare, way, care, you, enjoyes, worth.

p. 170, ll. 5—10. A—D and G] Prose. ll. 13—18. A—D and G] 8 ll. you, power, leave, like, him, humours, lesse, offer'd. ll. 27—29. A] 2 ll. pleasure, Madam.

p. 171, ll. 10—15. A—D and G] 9 ll. unreasonably, seeme, ill, ought, faire, good, prayer, me, you. ll. 31—40 and p. 172, ll. 1—6. A—D] 24 ll. weepe, words, sorrow, me, him, Thalestris, me, sweare, slay, thee, himselfe, me, yet, face, you, eares, eyes, him, hope, dead, him, fast, ceremony, him.

p. 172, ll. 15—21. A—D and G] 11 ll. not, desire, others, me (or not), wrong, birth, injure, hither, commanded, ready, servand.

p. 174, l. 20. A—D] 2 ll. king, now. ll. 23—29. A—D and G] 11 ll. full, subjects, love, height, you, me, warre, imagine, word, blouds, peace.

p. 175, ll. 4—6. A—D and G] 4 ll. man, home, hearts, deliverance. ll. 11—22. A—D and G] 17 ll. wrong, spectacle, people, me, deserved, you, dwels, man, compare, selfe, you, too, name, fall, loves, content, worke. ll. 35 and 36. A—D and G] 2 ll. Children, is.

p. 176, ll. 23—35. A—D and G] 14 ll. Sir, hands, know, her, home, stubbornnesse, like, her, Jewell, mad, sister, is, Land, another.

p. 177, ll. 1—10. A—D and G] 11 ll. Too, friends, know, loth, passe, constraint, so, speake, health, love, againe.

p. 178, ll. 16 and 17. A—D and G] 3 ll. die, returne, life. ll. 30—32. A—D and G] 4 ll. ill, kneele, gaine, you.

p. 179, ll. 21—25. A—D and G] 7 ll. earth, alas, command, me, short, sister brought.

p. 192, ll. 9—12. E and F] 3 ll. And, love, thou. ll. 10—12.
A—D and G] 3 ll. Advice, love, thou. ll. 16 and 17. A—D and
G] 3 ll. This, caution, it (G Adds l. 18). ll. 20 and 21.
A—D and G] 2 ll. it, it.

p. 194, ll. 5 and 6. A] 2 ll. cutlers, King. l. 22. A] 2 ll. will, whatsoever.

p. 199, ll. 9 and 10. B—D and G] 3 ll. Ladie, passe, King. ll. 12 and 13. A and G] 2 ll. from, remov'd.

p. 201, ll. 7 and 8. A] 2 ll. All, folly. l. 15. A] 2 ll. Sir, warrant. ll. 39 and 40.

p. 204, l. 6. A—D and G] 2 ll. false, letter. ll. 36—38. A] 2 ll. Truth, Prince.

p. 207, ll. 11—13. A—D and G] 3 ll. Toge-, man, brother. I. 24. A—D and G] 2 ll. Sir, since.

p. 212, ll. ii and 12. A] 3 ll. Panthea, gaze, out. ll. 23 and 24. A] 2 ll. you, gone.

Act 5 is in verse in Quartos A, B, C and D, in prose in Quartos E and F from p. 214, I. 22. As the Second Folio also prints it in prose it has been decided to give here the verse of Quarto A (1619) in full.

Sir, the King has seene your Commission, and beleeves it, and freely by this warrant gives you leave to visit Prince Tigranes your noble Master.

You serve a worthy person, and a stranger I am sure you are; you may imploy mee if you please, without your purse, such Officers should ever be their owne rewards.

  I may have neede of you, and then this curtesie,
  If it be any, is not ill bestowed:
  But may I civilly desire the rest?
  I shall not be a hurter, if no helper.

  Sir, you shall know I have lost a foolish daughter,
  And with her all my patience; pilferd away
  By a meane Captaine of your Kings.

  Stay there Sir:
  If he have reacht the noble worth of Captaine,
  He may well claime a worthy gentlewoman,
  Though shee were yours, and noble.

  I grant all that too: but this wretched fellow
  Reaches no further then the emptie name,
  That serves to feede him; were he valiant,
  Or had but in him any noble nature,
  That might hereafter promise him a good man;
  My cares were something lighter, and my grave
  A span yet from me.

  I confesse such fellowes
  Be in all royall Campes, and have, and must be
  To make the sinne of coward more detested
  In the meane Souldier, that with such a foyle
  Sets of much valour: By description
  I should now guesse him to you. It was Bessus,
  I dare almost with confidence pronounce it.

  Captaine, doe you call him?
  Beleeve me Sir, you have a miserie
  Too mighty for your age: A pox upon him,
  For that must be the end of all his service:
  Your daughter was not mad Sir?

  I would faine counsell you; but to what I know not:
  Hee's so below a beating, that the women
  Find him not worthy of their distaves; and
  To hang him, were to cast away a rope,
  Hee's such an ayrie thin unbodied coward,
  That no revenge can catch him:
  He tell you Sir, and tell you truth; this rascall
  Feares neither God nor man, has beene so beaten:
  Sufferance has made him wanscote; he has had
  Since hee was first a slave, at least three hundred daggers
  Set in his head, as little boyes doe new knives in hot meat;
  Ther's not a rib in's bodie a my conscience,
  That has not beene thrice broken with drie beating;
  And now his sides looke like to wicker targets,
  Everie way bended:
  Children will shortly take him for a wall,
  And set their stone-bowes in his forhead: is of so low a sence,
  I cannot in a weeke imagine what should be done to him.

  Sure I have committed some great sinne,
  That this strange fellow should be made my rod:
  I would see him, but I shall have no patience:

Tis no great matter if you have not, if a laming of him, or such a toy may doe you pleasure Sir, he has it for you, and Ile helpe you to him: tis no newes to him to have a leg broke, or a shoulder out, with being turnd ath' stones like a Tanzie: Draw not your sword, if you love it; for my conscience his head will breake it: we use him ith' warres like a Ramme to shake a wall withall; here comes the verie person of him, doe as you shall find your temper I must leave you: but if you doe not breake him like a bisket, you are much too blame Sir. Ex. Mardo. Enter Bessus and Sword-men.

Then Captaine Bessus you are a ranke rascall, without more exordiums, a durty frozen slave; and with the favour of your friends here, I will beate you.

Thus Captaine Bessus, thus; thus twinge your nose, thus kicke you, and thus tread you.

  Sir you shall have it quickly, and more beating,
  You have stolne away a Lady Captaine Coward,
  And such a one.

  Hold, I beseech you, hold Sir,
  I never yet stole any living thing
  That had a tooth about it.

  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.

  There was a Ladie Sir, I must confesse
  Once in my charge: the Prince Tigranes gave her
  To my guard for her safetie, how I usd her
  She 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?

This is most likely, Sir I aske your pardon,
And am sorrie I was so intemperate.

Well, I can aske no more, you would thinke it strange Now to have me beat you at first sight.

Indeed I would but I know your goodnes can forget
Twentie beatings. You must forgive me.

Yes, ther's my hand, goe where you will, I shall thinke
You a valiant fellow for all this.

  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.

  Gentlemen ath' sword your hands once more, I have
  Beene kickt againe, but the foolish fellow is penitent,
  Has ask't me mercy, and my honor's safe.

  We knew that, or the foolish fellow had better a kick't
  His Grandsire.
  Confirme, confirme I pray.

Alas good ignorant old man, let him goe,
Let him goe, these courses will undoe him.

  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.

I doe perceive my fault so much, that yet
Me thinkes thou shouldst not have forgiven me.

  Severall Businesses.
  My publique businesse will appeare by this:
  I have a message to deliver, which
  If it please you so to authorise, is
  An embassage from the Armenian state,
  Unto Arbaces for your libertie:
  The offer's there set downe, please you to read it.

  Though I have done nothing but what was good,
  I dare not see my Father: it was fault
  Enough not to acquaint him with that good.

  Thou couldst prate unhappily
  Ere thou couldst goe, would thou couldst doe as well.
  And how does your custome hold out here. Spa. Sir.

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.

  How has my age deserv'd so ill of you,
  That you can picke no strumpets in the Land,
  But out of my breed.

  Yes, and I wish to have you know, I scorne
  To get a Whore for any Prince alive,
  And yet scorne will not helpe me thinkes: My daughter
  Might have beene spar'd, there were enough beside.

  May I not prosper, but Shee's innocent
  As morning light for me, and I dare sweare
  For all the world.

  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 Queene
  I know you doe contemne her, so should I
  And every Subject else thinke much at it.

  Then have I made a faire hand, I cald her Whore,
  If I shall speake now as her Father, I cannot chuse
  But greatly rejoyce that she shall be a Queene: but if
  I should speake to you as a Statesman shee were more fit
  To be your Whore.

  Yes Sir, I will goe.
  And shall she be a Queene, she had more wit
  Then 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?

  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.

  Urge it no more;
  I have made up a new strong constancie,
  Not to be shooke with eyes; I know I have
  The passions of a man, but if I meete
  With any subject that shall hold my eyes
  More firmely then is fit; Ile thinke of thee,
  and runne away from it: let that suffice.

My Lord I have made bold to bring these Gentlemen my Friends ath' sword along with me.

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?

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?

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

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

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?

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.

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.

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.

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

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.

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

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

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

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

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.

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

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

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.

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

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

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

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

  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 place
  Where 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 beginne
  With murder of my friend, and so goe on
  To an incestuous ravishing, and end
  My life and sinnes with a forbidden blow
  Upon my selfe.

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

  Why Sir are you thus?
  Why does your hand proclaime a lawlesse warre
  Against your selfe?

And now you take new rage into your eies,
As you would looke us all out of the Land.

  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.

  Thou art not traind in sinne,
  It seemes Mardonius: kill my selfe, by heaven
  I 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 come
  So high as killing of my selfe, there are
  A 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.

  Why so?
  What follie is this in thee? is it not
  As apt to mischiefe as it was before?
  Can I not reach it thinkest thou? these are toyes
  For children to be pleas'd with, and not men;
  Now I am safe you thinke: I would the booke
  Of Fate were here, my sword is not so sure,
  But I should get it out, and mangle that
  That all the destinies should quite forget
  Their fix't decrees, and hast to make us new
  Farre other Fortunes mine could not be worse,
  Wilt thou now leave me?

  Goe, thou art honest,
  Why should the hastie errors of my youth
  Be so unpardonable, to draw a sinne
  Helpelesse upon me?

  Draw neere thou guiltie man,
  That are the author of the loathedst crime
  Five ages have brought forth, and heare me speake
  Curses incurable, and all the evils
  Mans bodie or his spirit can receive
  Be with thee.

  Why doe I curse thee, if there be a man
  Subtill in curses, that exceedes the rest,
  His worst wish on thee. Thou hast broke my hart.

  How Sir? Have I preserv'd you from a childe,
  From all the arrowes, malice or ambition
  Could shoot at you, and have I this for pay?

  Tis true thou didst preserve me, and in that
  Wert crueller then hardned murderers
  Of infants and their mothers; thou didst save me
  Onely till thou hadst studdied out a way
  How to destroy me cunningly thy selfe:
  This was a curious way of torturing.

  Thou knowst the evils thou hast done to me,
  Dost thou remember all those witching letters
  Thou sentst unto me to Armenia,
  Fild with the praise of my beloved Sister,
  Where thou extolst her beautie; what had I
  To doe with that, what could her beautie be
  To me, and thou didst write how well shee lov'd me,
  Doest thou remember this: so that I doated
  Something before I saw her.

  Is it, and I when I was returnd thou knowst
  Thou didst pursue it, till thou woundst mee into
  Such a strange, and unbeleev'd affection,
  As good men cannot thinke on.

  Be thine owne sad Judge,
  A further condemnation will not need:
  Prepare thy selfe to die.

  Why wouldst thou live, was ever yet offender
  So impudent, that had a thought of mercy
  After confession of a crime like this?
  Get out I cannot, where thou hurlst me in,
  But I can take revenge, that's all the sweetnesse
  Left for me.

  No, yet I will be farre more mercifull
  Then thou wert to me; thou didst steale into me,
  And never gavest me warning: so much time
  As I give thee now, had prevented thee
  For ever. Notwithstanding all thy sinnes,
  If thou hast hope, that there is yet a prayer
  To save thee, turne, and speake it to your selfe.

  My Father? though I know it for a lie
  Made out of feare to save thy stained life:
  The verie reverence of the word comes crosse me,
  And ties mine arme downe.

I will tell you that shall heighten you againe, I am thy
Father, I charge thee heare me.

  If it should be so,
  As tis most false, and that I should be found
  A bastard issue, the dispised fruite
  Of lawlesse lust, I should no more admire
  All my wilde passions: but another truth
  Shall be wrung from thee: If I could come by
  The spirit of paine, it should be powr'd on thee,
  Till thou allowest thy selfe more full of lies
  Then he that teaches thee.

  Turne thee about,
  I come to speake to thee thou wicked man,
  Heare me thou Tyrant.

  I will turne to thee,
  Heare me thou Strumpet: I have blotted out
  The name of mother, as thou hast thy shame.

  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?

  Cease thou strange impudence, and answere quickly,
  If thou contemn'st me, this will aske an answere,
  And have it.

  Guilt dare not helpe guilt, though they grow together
  In doing ill, yet at the punishment
  They sever, and each flies the noyse of other,
  Thinke not of helpe, answere.

  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 blush
  Onely to aske thee: tell me who I am,
  Whose sonne I am, without all circumstance;
  Be thou as hastie, as my Sword will be
  If thou refusest.

  Then art thou all that ever was knowne bad. Now is
  The cause of all my strange misfortunes come to light:
  What reverence expects thou from a childe
  To bring forth which thou hast offended Heaven,
  Thy husband and the Land: Adulterous witch
  I 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 inheritance
  I have by thee: which is a spacious world
  Of impious acts, that I may soone possesse it:
  Plagues rott thee, as thou liv'st, and such diseases
  As use to pay lust, recompence thy deed.

  Too well:
  You are a paire of Vipers, and behold
  The Serpent you have got; there is no beast
  But if he knew, it has a pedigree
  As 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.

You spend your rage, and words in vaine,
And raile upon a guesse: heare us a little.

  I will kneele,
  And heare with the obedience of a childe;
  Good Father speake, I doe acknowledge you,
  So you bring comfort.

  First know our last King your supposed Father
  Was olde and feeble when he marryed her,
  And almost all the Land as shee past hope
  Of issue from him.

  Therefore shee tooke leave
  To play the whoore, because the King was old:
  Is this the comfort?

  What will you find out
  To give me satisfaction, when you find
  How you have injur'd me: let fire consume mee,
  If ever I were whore.

  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.

  Bring it out good Father,
  He lie, artd listen here as reverentlie
  As to an Angell: If I breathe too loude,
  Tell me; for I would be as still as night.

  Our King I say was old, and this our Queene
  Desired to bring an heire; but yet her husband
  Shee thought was past it, and to be dishonest
  I 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 cunning
  Found 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 made
  For her safe going, and deliverie:
  Shee fain'd now to grow bigger, and perceiv'd
  This hope of issue made her feard, and brought
  A 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.

  Doe I not heare it well: nay, I will make
  No noise at all; but pray you to the point,
  Quicke as you can.

  Now when the time was full,
  Shee should be brought abed; I had a sonne
  Borne, which was you: This the Queene hearing of,
  Mov'd me to let her have you, and such reasons
  Shee shewed me, as shee knew would tie
  My secresie: shee sware you should be King;
  And to be short, I did deliver you
  Unto 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 believe
  Shee was deliver'd of you: you grew up
  As the Kings sonne, till you were six yeere olde;
  Then did the King die, and did leave to me
  Protection of the Realme; and contrarie
  To his owne expectation, left this Queene
  Truly with Childe indeed of the faire Princesse
  Panthea: Then shee could have torne her heire,
  And did alone to me yet durst not speake
  In publike; for shee knew shee should be found
  A Traytor, and her talke would have beene thought
  Madnesse or any thing rather then truth:
  This was the onely cause why shee did seeke
  To poyson you, and I to keepe you safe:
  And this the reason why I sought to kindle
  Some sparke of love in you to faire Panthea,
  That shee might get part of her right agen.

  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.

  Give consent?
  Why I will have them all that know it rackt
  To get this from um: All that waites without
  Come in, what ere you be come in, and be
  Partakers of my Joy: O you are welcome.

Mardonius the best newes, nay, draw no neerer They all shall heare it: I am found no King.

  The Queene Mardonius, Panthea is the Queene,
  And I am plaine Arbaces, goe some one,
  She is in Gobrius house; since I saw you
  There are a thousand things delivered to me
  You little dreame of.

  Why doe you keepe your hats off Gentlemen,
  Is it to me? in good faith it must not be:
  I cannot now command you, but I pray you
  For the respect you bare me, when you tooke
  Me for your King, each man clap on his hat at my desire.

  We will: but you are not found
  So meane a man, but that you may be cover'd
  As well as we, may you not?

  Why there: O the whole storie
  Would be a wildernesse to loose thy selfe
  For ever; O pardon me deare Father,
  For all the idle, and unreverent words
  That I have spoke in idle moodes to you:
  I am Arbaces, we all fellow subjects,
  Nor is the Queene Panthea now my Sister.

Why if you remember fellow subject Arbaces, I tolde you once she was not your sister, I say she look't nothing like you.

Here will arise another question now amongst the Swordmen, whether I be to call him to account for beating me, now he's prov'd no King.

  I knew that was your businesse, you shall have
  You King againe, and have him so againe
  As never King was had. Goe one of you
  And bid Bacurius bring Tigranes hither,
  And bring the Ladie with him, that Panthea
  The Queene Panthea sent me word this morning
  Was brave Tigranes mistresse.

  Shee is so, I could now tell any thing
  I never heard; your King shall goe so home
  As never man went.

  He shall have Chariots easier than ayre
  That I will have invented; and nere thinke
  He shall pay any ransome; and thy selfe
  That art the Messenger shall ride before him
  On a Horse cut out of an entire Diamond,
  That shall be made to goe with golden wheeles,
  I know not how yet.

  Why I shall be made
  For ever, they belied this King with us
  And sayd he was unkind.

  And then thy daughter,
  She shall have some strange thinke, wele have the Kingdome
  Sold utterly, and put into a toy.
  Which she shall weare about her carelesly
  Some where or other.
  See the vertuous Queene.

  Behold the humblest subject that you have
  Kneele here before you. Pan. Why kneele you
  To me that am your vassall?

Sir, Tigranes is comming though he made it strange
To see the Princesse any more.

  Thou meanest: O my Tigranes pardon me,
  Tread on my necke I freely offer it,
  And if thou beest so given; take revenge,
  For I have injur'd thee.

  No, I forgive,
  And rejoice more that you have found repentance,
  Then I my libertie.

  Maist thou be happie
  In thy faire choice; for thou art temperate:
  You owe no ransome to the state, know that;
  I have a thousand joyes to tell you of,
  Which yet I dare not utter, till I pay
  My thankes to Heaven for um: will you goe
  With me, and helpe me; pray you doe.

  Take then your faire one with you and your Queene
  Of goodnesse, and of us; O give me leave
  To take your arme in mine: Come every one
  That takes delight in goodnesse, helpe to sing
  Loude thankes for me, that I am prov'd no King.

FINIS.

The following verse variations have also been noted between the
Act printed above from A and the quartos B, C, D and G.

p. 437, ll. 16—18. B, C, D, G] six lines, Whore, satisfied, Dancer, Musilians, thee, whore.

p. 438, ll. 40 and 41. B, C, D, G] four lines, laming, fall, Sword-men, Stock-fish.

p. 443, ll. 24 and 25. B, C, D, G] three lines, impudence, me, answere. ll. 44 and 45. Three lines, All, cause, light.

p. 446, ll. 17 and 18. B, C, D, G] one line, This. ll. 19 and 20. B, C, D, G] one line, Truth. l. 26. Two lines, hat, desire.

p. 447, ll. 16 and 17. B, C, D, G] two lines, ever, us. ll. 23 and 24. B, C, D, G] one line, Queene. ll. 29 and 30. B, C, D, G] one line, will.

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