For I have lived till I am pitied!

My former deeds were hateful; but this last

Is pitiful, for I unwillingly

Have given the dear preserver of my life
Unto his torture. Is it in the power

Of flesh and blood to carry this, and live?

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[Offers to stab himself.

Are. Dear sir, be patient yet! Oh, stay that hand!

King. Sirs, strip that boy.

Dion. Come, sir, your tender flesh

Will try your constancy.

Bel. Oh, kill me, gentlemen!

Dion. No.- Help, sirs.

Bel. Will you torture me?

King. Haste there;

Why stay you?

Bel. Then I shall not break my vow,

You know, just gods, though I discover all.
King. How's that? will he confess?

Dion. Sir, so he says.

King. Speak then.

Bel. Great King, if you command

This lord to talk with me alone, my tongue,
Urged by my heart, shall utter all the thoughts

My youth hath known; and stranger things than these
You hear not often.

King. Walk aside with him.

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[DION and BELLARIO waik apart.

Dion. Why speak'st thou not?

Bel. Know you this face, my lord?

Dion. No.

Bel. Have you not seen it, nor the like?

Dion. Yes, I have seen the like, but readily

I know not where.

Bel. I have been often told

In court of one Euphrasia, a lady,

And daughter to you; betwixt whom and me
They that would flatter my bad face would swear
There was such strange resemblance, that we two
Could not be known asunder, drest alike.

Dion. By Heaven, and so there is!

Bel. For her fair sake,

Who now doth spend the spring-time of her life

In holy pilgrimage, move to the King,

That I may scape this torture.

Dion. But thou speak'st

As like Euphrasia as thou dost look.

How came it to thy knowledge that she lives
In pilgrimage?

Bel. I know it not, my lord;

But I have heard it, and do scarce believe it.

Dion. Oh, my shame! is it possible? Draw near, That I may gaze upon thee. Art thou she,

Or else her murderer?1 where wert thou born?

Bel. In Syracusa.

Dion. What's thy name?

Bel. Euphrasia.

Dion. Oh, 'tis just, 'tis she!

Now I do know thee. Oh, that thou hadst died,

And I had never seen thee nor my shame!

How shall I own thee? shall this tongue of mine
E'er call thee daughter more?

ΙΙΟ

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1 In some countries the superstitious believed that the murderer inherited

the form and qualities of his victim.

Bel. Would I had died indeed!

I wish it too :

And so I must have done by vow, ere published
What I have told, but that there was no means
To hide it longer. Yet I joy in this,

The princess is all clear.

King. What, have you done?

Dion. All is discovered.

Phi. Why then hold you me?

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[Offers to stab himself.

All is discovered! Pray you, let me go.

King. Stay him.

Are. What is discovered?

Dion. Why, my shame.

It is a woman: let her speak the rest.

Phi. How? that again!

Dion. It is a woman.

Phi. Blessed be you powers that favour innocence !
King. Lay hold upon that lady.

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[MEGRA is seized.

Phi. It is a woman, sir!- Hark, gentlemen,

My soul into thy breast, that would be gone

With joy. It is a woman! Thou art fair,
And virtuous still to ages, in despite

Of malice.

King. Speak you, where lies his shame?
Bel. I am his daughter.

Phi. The gods are just.

Dion. I dare accuse none; but, before you two,

The virtue of our age, I bend my knee

For mercy.

Phi. (raising him). Take it freely; for I know, Though what thou didst were undiscreetly done, 'Twas meant well.

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[Kneels.

Are. And for me,

I have a power to pardon sins, as oft
As any man has power to wrong me.
Cle. Noble and worthy!

Phi. But, Bellario,

(For I must call thee still so,) tell me why
Thou didst conceal thy sex. It was a fault,

A fault, Bellario, though thy other deeds
Of truth outweighed it: all these jealousies
Had flown to nothing, if thou hadst discovered
What now we know.

Bel. My father oft would speak

Your worth and virtue; and, as I did grow
More and more apprehensive, I did thirst
To see the man so praised. But yet all this
Was but a maiden-longing, to be lost
As soon as found; till, sitting in my window,
Printing my thoughts in lawn, I saw a god,
I thought, (but it was you,) enter our gates:
My blood flew out and back again, as fast
As I had puffed it forth and sucked it in
Like breath: then was I called away in haste
To entertain you. Never was a man,
Heaved from a sheep-cote to a sceptre, raised
So high in thoughts as I : you left a kiss
Upon these lips then, which I mean to keep
From you for ever: I did hear you talk,
Far above singing. After you were gone,
I grew acquainted with my heart, and searched
What stirred it so: alas, I found it love!
Yet far from lust; for, could I but have lived
In presence of you, I had had my end.

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For this I did delude my noble father
With a feigned pilgrimage, and dressed myself
In habit of a boy; and, for I knew

My birth no match for you, I was past hope
Of having you; and, understanding well
That when I made discovery of my sex
I could not stay with you, I made a vow,
By all the most religious things a maid
Could call together, never to be known,

Whilst there was hope to hide me from men's eyes,
For other than I seemed, that I might ever

Abide with you. Then sat I by the fount,

Where first you took me up.

King. Search out a match

Within our kingdom, where and when thou wilt,

And I will pay thy dowry; and thyself

Wilt well deserve him.

Bel. Never, sir, will I

Marry; it is a thing within my vow:

But, if I may have leave to serve the princess,

To see the virtues of her lord and her,

I shall have hope to live.

Are. I, Philaster,

Cannot be jealous, though you had a lady
Drest like a page to serve you; nor will I
Suspect her living here. Come, live with me;
Live free as I do. She that loves my lord,
Cursed be the wife that hates her!

Phi. I grieve such virtue should be laid in earth
Without an heir. — Hear me, my royal father:
Wrong not the freedom of our souls so much,
To think to take revenge of that base woman ;

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