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Cler. This speech calls him Spaniard, being now
A large inventory of his own commendations,
But here comes one more worthy those large speeches
Than the large speaker of them.
Phi. Right noble sir, as low as my obedience,
And with a heart as loyal as my knee,
1 beg your favour.
King. Rise ; you have it, sir,
Speak your intents, sir.
Phi. Shall I speak then, 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 Indure me, and you shall. This earth you tread on, (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, besides the gods, To part so calmly with it, and sit still, And say, I might have been. I tell thee, Pharamond,
When thou art king, look I be dead and rotten,
And my name ashes. For, hear me, Pharamond,
This very ground thou goest on, this fat earth,
My father's friends made fertile with their faiths,
Before that day of shame, shall gape, and swallow
Thee and thy nation, like a hungry grave,
Into her hidden bowels. Prince, it shall;
By Nemesis, it shall.
King. You do displease us.
You are too bold.
Phi. No, sir, I am too tame, Too much a turtle, a thing born without passion, A faint shadow, that every drunken cloud sails over, And maketh nothing.
Pha. What have you seen in me to stir offence
I cannot find, unless it be this lady,
Offer'd into mine arms, with the succession,
Which I must keep, though it hath pleas'd your fury
To mutiny within you. The king grants it,
And I dare make it mine. You have your answer.
Phi. If thou wert sole inheritor to him
That made the world his, and were Pharamond
As truly valiant as I feel him cold,
And ring'd among the choicest of his friends,
And from this presence, spite of all these stops,
You should hear further from me.
King. Sir, you wrong the prince.
I gave you not this freedom to brave our best friends;
You do deserve our frown. Go to; be better tema
Phi. It must be, sir, when I am nobler us’d.
King. Philaster, tell me
The injuries you aim at in your riddles.
Phi. If you had my eyes, sir, and sufferance,
My griefs upon you, and my broken fortunes,
My wants great, and now nought but hopes and fears,
My wrongs would make ill riddles to be laughed at.
Dare you be still my king, and right me not?
King. Go to;
Be more yourself, as you respect our favour;
You'll stir us else. Sir, I must have you know
That you're, and shall be, at our pleasure, “ what
« fashion we
“Will put upon you.” Smooth your brow, or, by
Phi. I am dead, sir; you're my fate. It was not I
Said I was wrong’d. I carry all about me
My weak stars led me to, all my weak fortunes.
Who dares in all this presence speak, (that is
But man of Alesh, and may be mortal) tell me,
I do not most entirely love this prince,
And honour his full virtues ?
King. Sure he's possess'd!
Phi. Yes, with my father's spirit. It's here, O
A dangerous spirit; now he tells me, king,
I was a king's heir, bids me be a king,
And whispers to me, these be all my subjects.
'Tis strange, he will not let me sleep, but dives
Into my fancy, and there gives me shapes
That kneel, ånd do me service, cry me king.
But I'll suppress him ; he's a faction's 'spirit,
And will undo me. Noble sir, your hand;
I am your servant.
King. Away; I do not like this.
For this time I pardon your wild speech.
[-Exeunt King, Pha. Are. and train.
Dion. See how his fancy labours. Has he not
Spoke home, and bravely? What a dangerous train
Did he give fire tol How He shook the king !
Made his soul melt within him, and his blood
Run into 'whey! It stood upon his brow,
Like a cold winter dew.
You have no suit to me; I am no minton.
You stand, methinks, like men that would be cöur.
If you could well be flatter'd at that price,
Not to undo your children. You're all Woniest.
Go, get you home again, and make your country
A virtuous court, tò which your great ones máy,
In their diseased age, retire, and live recluse.
Cler. How do you, worthy sir ?
Phi. Well, very well,
And so well, that, if the king please, I find
live many years.
Dion. The king must please,
Whilst we know what you are, and who you are,
Your wrongs and injuries, Shrink not, worthy sir,
But add your father to you ; in whose name
We'll waken all the gods, and conjure up
The rods of vengeance, the abused people
Who, like to raging torrents, shall swell high,
And so begirt the dens of these male-dragons,
That, through the strongest safety, they shall beg
For mercy at your sword's point.
Phi. Friends, no more ;
Our ears may be corrupted. 'Tis an age
We dare not trust our wills to. Do you love me?
Thra. Do we love Heav'n and honour?
Phi. My lord Dion,
You had a virtuous gentlewoman call'd you father:
Is she yet alive?
Dion. Most honour'd sir, she is ;
And for the penance but of an idle dream,
Has undertook a tedious pilgrimage.
Enter a lady. Phi. Is it to me, or any of these gentlemen you come?
Lady. To you, brave lord ; the princess would intreat your present company.
Phi. Kiss her fair hand, and say, I will attend her.
Dion. Do you know what you do?
Phi. Yes; go to see a woman.
Cler. But do you weigh the danger you are in ?
Phi. Danger in a sweet face !
eye may shoot me dead, or those true red And white friends in her face may steal my soul out; There's all the danger in’t. But be what may, Her single name hath armed me.