And I must sleep: bear me, thou gentle bank,
For ever, if thou wilt; you sweet ones all,
Let me unworthy press you: I cou'd wish,
I rather were a corse strew'd over with you,
Than quick above you.
"Dulness shuts mine eyes,
"And I am giddy." Oh! that I could take
So sound a sleep, that I might never wake.

Enter PHILASTER.

Phi. I have done ill; my conscience calls me false. What strike at her, that would not strike at me! When I did fight, methought, I heard her pray The gods to guard me.

And I a loathed villain.

She may be abus'd,

If she be,

She'll not discover me; the slave has wounds,
And cannot follow, neither knows he me.
Who's this? Bellario sleeping! If thou beest

Guilty, there is no justice that thy sleep

Should be so sound; and mine, whom thou hast wrong'd,

So broken.

Bel. Who is there? My lord Philaster!

[A cry within. Hark! You are pursu'd; fly, fly my lord! and save Yourself.

Phi. How's this! would'st thou I should be safe? Bel. Else were it vain for me to live. Oh, seize, My lord, this offer'd means of your escape! The princess, I am sure, will ne'er reveal you; They have no mark to know you, but your wounds; G

I, coming in betwixt the boor and you,

Was wounded too. To stay the loss of blood

I did bind on this scarf, which thus

I tear away. Fly! and 'twill be believed 'Twas I assail'd the princess.

Phi. O heavens!

What hast thou done? Art thou then true to me?

Bel. Or let me perish loath'd! Come, my good lord, Creep in amongst those bushes. Who does know, But that the gods may save your much-lov'd breath? Phi. Oh, I shall die for grief! What wilt thou do? Bel. Shift for myself well: peace, I hear 'em come! Within. Follow, follow, follow; that way they went. Bel. With my own wounds I'll bloody my own sword!

I need not counterfeit to fall; Heav'n knows
That I can stand no longer.

Enter PHARAMOND, DION, CLEREMONT, THRA-
SILINE, &C..

Pha. To this place we have track'd him by his blood.
Cler. Yonder, my lord, creeps one away.

Dion. Stay, sir, what are you?

Bel. A wretched creature wounded in these woods By beasts! relieve me, if your names be men,

Or I shall perish!

Dion. This is he, my lord,

Upon my soul, assail'd her; 'tis the boy,

That wicked boy, that serv'd her.

Pha. Oh, thou wretch!

What cause could'st thou shape
To hurt the princess?

Bel. Then I am betray'd.

Dion. Betray'd! no, apprehended.

Bel. I confess,

Urge it no more, that, big with evil thoughts,
I set upon her, and did make my aim

Her death.

For charity, let fall at once

The punishment you mean, and do not load

This weary flesh with tortures!

Pha. I will know

Who hir'd thee to this deed.

Bel. My own revenge.

Pha. Revenge! for what?

Bel. It pleas'd her to receive

Me as her page, and, when my fortunes ebb'd,
That men strid o'er them careless, she did shower
Her welcome graces on me, and did swell
My fortunes, till they overflow'd their banks,
Threat'ning the men that crost 'em; when, as swift
As storms arise at sea, she turn'd her eyes
To burning suns upon me, and did dry

The streams she had bestow'd, leaving me worse,
And more contemn'd than other little brooks,
Because I had been great. In short, I knew
I could not live, and therefore did desire
To die reveng❜d.

Pha. If tortures can be found,

Long as thy natural life, prepare to feel
The utmost rigour.

Cle. Help to lead him hence.

PHILASTER comes forth.

Phi. Turn back, you ravishers of innocence!

Know

ye the price of that

So rudely?

Pha. Who's that?

you bear away

Dion. 'Tis the lord Philaster.

Phi. 'Tis not the treasure of all kings in one,
The wealth of Tagus, nor the rocks of pearl
That pave the court of Neptune, can weigh down
That virtue. It was I assail'd the princess.
Place me, some god, upon a pyramid,

Higher than hills of earth, and lend a voice
Loud as your thunder to me, that from thence
I may discourse to all the under-world

The worth that dwells in him!

Pha. How's this?

Bel. My lord, some man

Weary of life, that would be glad to die.

Phi. Leave these untimely courtesies, Bellario.
Bel. Alas! he's mad; come, will you lead me on?
Phi. By all the oaths that men ought most to keep,
And gods do punish most when men do break,
He touch'd her not. Take heed, Bellario,

How thou dost drown the virtues thou hast shown,
With perjury. By all that's good, 'twas I;
You know she stood betwixt me and my right.
Pha. Thy own tongue be thy judge.

Cler. It was Philaster.

Dion. Is't not a brave boy?

Well, sirs, I fear me, we are all deceiv'd.

Phi. Have I no friend here?

Dion. Yes.

Phi. Then shew it; some

Good body lend a hand to draw us nearer.

die?

Would you have tears shed for you when you
Then lay me gently on his neck, that there
I may weep floods, [They lead him to Bellario] and
breathe out my spirit;

'Tis not the wealth of Plutus, nor the gold

You hard-hearted men,

Lock'd in the heart of earth, can buy away
This arm-full from me.
More stony than these mountains, can you see
Such clear, pure blood drop, and not cut your flesh
To stop his life? To bind whose bitter wounds,
Queens ought to tear their hair, and with their tears
Bathe them. Forgive me, thou that art the wealth
poor Philaster!

Of

Enter KING, ARETHUSA, and a guard.

King. Is the villain ta’en ?

Pha. Sir, here be two confess the deed; but say it was Philaster.

Phi. Question it no more, it was.

King. The fellow that did fight with him will

tell us.

Are. Ah, me! I know he will.

King. Did not you know him?

Are. No, sir; if it was he, he was disguised.