they saw Philaster ride through the streets pleased and without a guard; at which they threw their hats and their arms from them; some to make bonfires, some to drink, all for his deliverance: which, wise men say, is the cause the King labours to bring in the power of a foreign nation to awe his own with.

Enter GALATEA, a Lady, and MEGRA.

Thra. See, the ladies! What's the first?

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Dion. A wise and modest gentlewoman that attends the princess.

Cle. The second?

Dion. She is one that may stand still discreetly enough, and ill-favouredly dance her measure; simper when she is courted by her friend, and slight her husband.

Cle. The last?

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Dion. Marry, I think she is one whom the state keeps for the agents of our confederate princes: she'll cog1 and lie with a whole army, before the league shall break. Her name is common through the kingdom, and the trophies of her dishonour advanced beyond Hercules' Pillars.

Cle. She's a profitable member.

Lady. Peace, if you love me: you shall see these gentlemen stand their ground and not court us.

Gal. What if they should?

Megra. What if they should!

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Lady. Nay, let her alone. - What if they should! Why, if they should, I say they were never abroad: what foreigner would do so? it writes them directly untravelled.

Gal. Why, what if they be?

Megra. What if they be !

1 Cheat, cajole.

Lady. Good madam, let her go on.-What if they be! why, if they be, I will justify, they cannot maintain discourse with a judicious lady, nor make a leg1nor say excuse me." Gal. Ha, ha, ha !

Lady. Do you laugh, madam?

Dion. Your desires upon you, ladies!
Lady. Then you must sit beside us.

Dion. I shall sit near you then, lady.

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Lady. Near me, perhaps; but there's a lady endures no stranger; and to me you appear a very strange fellow. Megra. Methinks he's not so strange; he would quickly be acquainted.

Thra. Peace, the King!

Enter KING, PHARAMOND, ARETHUSA, and Attendants.

King. To give a stronger testimony of love Than sickly promises (which commonly

In princes find both birth and burial

In one breath) we have drawn you, worthy sir,
To make your fair endearments to our daughter,
And worthy services known to our subjects,
Now loved and wondered at; next, our intent
To plant you deeply, our immediate heir
Both to our blood and kingdoms.
(The best part of your life, as you confirm me,
And I believe,) though her few years and sex
Yet teach her nothing but her fears and blushes,
Desires without desire, discourse and knowledge

Only of what herself is to herself,

For this lady,

Make her feel moderate health; and when she sleeps,
In making no ill day, knows no ill dreams :

1 Bow.

Think not, dear sir, these undivided parts,
That must mould up a virgin, are put on
To show her so, as borrowed ornaments,
To speak her perfect love to you, or add
An artificial shadow to her nature

No, sir; I boldly dare proclaim her yet

No woman. But woo her still, and think her modesty
A sweeter mistress than the offered language

Of any dame, were she a queen, whose eye
Speaks common loves and comforts to her servants.1
Last, noble son (for so I now must call you),
What I have done thus public, is not only
To add a comfort in particular

To you or me, but all; and to confirm

The nobles and the gentry of these kingdoms
By oath to your succession, which shall be
Within this month at most.

Thra. This will be hardly done.

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

Dion. When 'tis at best, 'twill be but half done, whilst

So brave a gentleman is wronged and flung off.

Thra. I fear.

Cle. Who does not?

Dion. I fear not for myself, and yet I fear too :

Well, we shall see, we shall see. No more.

Pha. Kissing your white hand, mistress, I take leave

To thank your royal father; and thus far

To be my own free trumpet. Understand,

Great King, and these your subjects, mine that must be,
(For so deserving you have spoke me, sir,
And so deserving I dare speak myself,)

1 Suitors.

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ΙΙΟ

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To what a person, of what eminence,

Ripe expectation, of what faculties,

Manners and virtues, you would wed your kingdoms;
You in me have your wishes. Oh, this country!
By more than all my hopes, I hold it happy:
Happy in their dear memories that have been
Kings great and good; happy in yours that is;
And from you (as a chronicle to keep

Your noble name from eating age) do I
Opine myself most happy. Gentlemen,
Believe me in a word, a prince's word,
There shall be nothing to make up a kingdom
Mighty and flourishing, defencèd, feared,
Equal to be commanded and obeyed,
But through the travails of my life I'll find it,
And tie it to this country. And I vow
My reign shall be so easy to the subject,
That every man shall be his prince himself
And his own law- yet I his prince and law.
And, dearest lady, to your dearest self

(Dear in the choice of him whose name and lustre
Must make you more and mightier) let me say,
You are the blessed'st living; for, sweet princess,
You shall enjoy a man of men to be

Your servant; you shall make him yours, for whom
Great queens must die.

Thra. Miraculous!

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

Dion. I wonder what's his price; for certainly
He'll sell himself, he has so praised his shape.
But here comes one more worthy those large speeches,

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150

Enter PHILASTER.

Than the large speaker of them.

Let me be swallowed quick, if I can find,
In all the anatomy of yon man's virtues,

One sinew sound enough to promise for him,

He shall be constable. By this sun, he'll ne'er make king Unless it be for trifles, in my poor judgment.

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Phi. (kneeling). Right noble sir, as low as my obedience, And with a heart as loyal as my knee,

I beg your favour.

King. Rise; you have it, sir.

[PHILASTER rises.

Dion. Mark but the King, how pale he looks with fear!

Oh, this same nettle conscience, how it jades us!

King. Speak your intents, sir.

Phi. Shall I speak 'em freely?
Be still my royal sovereign.
King. As a subject,

We give you freedom.

Dion. Now it heats.

Phi. Then thus I turn

My language to you, prince; you, foreign man!
Ne'er stare nor put on wonder, for you must

Endure me, and shall. This earth you tread upon

you

(A dowry, as you hope, with this fair princess),

By my dead father (oh, I had a father,
Whose memory I bow to !) was not left
To your inheritance, and I up and living-
Having myself about me and my sword,
The souls of all my name and memories,
These arms and some few friends beside the gods -
To part so calmly with it, and sit still

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