As use to pay lust, recompence thy deed!
Gob. You do not know why you curse thus.
Arb. 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 a law,
As they.

Ara. You spend your rage and words in vain, And rail upon a guess; hear us a little.

Arb. No, I will never hear, but talk away My breath, and die.

Gob. Why, but you are no bastard.

Arb. How's that!

Ara. Nor child of mine.

Arb. Still you go on

In wonders to me.

Gob. Pray you, be more patient;

I may bring comfort to you.

Arb. I will kneel,

And hear with the obedience of a child.
Good father, speak! I do acknowledge you,
So you bring comfort.

Gob. First know, our last king, your supposed
father,

Was old and feeble when he married her,
And almost all the land, as she, past hope
Of issue from him.

Arb. Therefore she took leave

To play the whore, because the king was old: Is this the comfort?

Ara. 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 whore!

Gob. Forbear 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.

Arb. Bring it out, good father.
I'll lie, and listen here as reverently
As to an angel: If I breathe too loud,
Tell me; for I would be as still as night.

Gob. 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 watch'd so narrowly,
And had so slender opportunities,

She hardly could have been: But yet her cunning

Found out this way; she feign'd herself with child,

And posts were sent in haste throughout the land,

And God was humbly thank'd in ev'ry church, That so had bless'd the queen; and prayers were

made

For her safe going and delivery.

She feign'd now to grow bigger; and perceiv'd

A far more large respect from every man,
And saw her power encrease, and was resolv'd,
Since she believ'd she could not have't indeed,
At least she would be thought to have a child.

Arb. Do I not hear it well? Nay, I will make No noise at all; but pray you to the point, Quick as you can.

Gob. 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 well would tie
My secrecy: 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 be

lieve

She was deliver'd of you. You grew up,
As the king's son, till you were six years old;
Then did the king die, and did leave to me
Protection of the realm; and, contrary
To his own expectation, left this queen
Truly 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 traitor; and her tale would have been thought
Madness, or any thing rather than truth.
This was the only cause why she did seek
To poison 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.

Arb. 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.

Gob. This is all.

Arb. And is it true, say you too, madam ?
Ara. Yes, Heaven knows, it is most true.
Arb. Panthea, then, is not my sister.
Gob. No.

Arb. But can you prove this?
Gob. If you'll give consent,
Else who dares go about it?

Arb. Give consent?

Why, I will have 'em all that know it rack'd
To get this from 'em. All that wait without,
Come in, whate'er you be, come in, and be
Partakers of my joy! Oh, you are welcome!
Enter BESSUS Gentlemen, MARDONIUS, and
other Attendants

Mardonius, the best news! Nay, draw no nearer;
They all shall hear it: I am found No King.
Mar. Is that so good news?
Ar'. Yes, the happiest news
That e'er was heard.

Mar. Indeed, 'twere well for

you

What fury's this?

Gob. Believe me, 'tis no fury;

All that he says is truth.

Mar. 'Tis very strange.

Arb. 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.

Mar. We will. You are not found
So mean a man, but that you may be cover'd
As well as we; may you not?

Arb. Oh, not here!

You may, but not I, for here is my father In presence.

Mar. Where?

Arb. Why, there. Oh, the whole story
Would be a wilderness, to lose thyself
For ever. Oh, pardon me, dear father,
For all the idle and unreverend 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.

Bes. Why, if you remember, fellow-subject Arbaces, I told you once she was not your sister: Ay, and she look'd nothing like you.

Arb. I think you did, good captain Bessus. Bes. Here will arise another question now amongst the sword-men, whether I be to call him to account for beating me, now he is prov'd No King.

Enter LYGONES.

Mar. Sir, here's Lygones, the agent for the Armenian state.

Arb. Where is he? I know your business, good Lygones.

Lyg. We must have our king again, and will. Arb. 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.

[Exe. two gentlemen.

Lyg. 'Tis Spaconia.
Arb. Ay, ay, Spaconia.
Lyg. She is my daughter.

Arb. She is so. I could now tell any thing

I never heard. Your king shall go so home, As never man went.

Mar. Shall he go on's head?

Arb. He shall have chariots easier than air, That I will have invented; and ne'er think He shall pay any ransom! And thyself, That art the messenger, shall ride before him On a horse cut out of an entire diamond, That shall be made to go with golden wheels, I know not how yet.

Lyg. Why, I shall be made

For ever! They bely'd this king with us,
And said he was unkind.

Arb. And then, thy daughter;

She shall have some strange thing; we'll have the kingdom

Sold utterly, and put into a toy,

Which she shall wear about her carelessly, Somewhere or other. See, the virtuous queen! Behold the humblest subject that you have, Kneel here before you.

Enter PANTHEA and 1 Gentleman. Pan. Why kneel you to me,

That am your vassal?

Arb. Grant me one request.

Pan. Alas! what can I grant you? what I can I will.

Arb. That you will please to marry me, If I can prove it lawful.

Pan. Is that all!

Cleon. The rest are making ready, sir. Lys. So let them; there is time enough. Diph. You are the brother to the king, my lord; and we'll take your word.

Lys. Strato, thou hast some skill in poetry: What think'st thou of the masque? Will it be well?

Strat. As well as masque can be.
Lys. As masque can be?

Strat. Yes; they must commend their king, and speak in praise of the assembly; bless the bride and bridegroom, in person of some god. They are tied to rules of flattery.

Cle. See, good my lord, who is returned !
Enter MELANTIUS.

Lys. Noble Melantius! the land, by me,

Welcomes thy virtues home to Rhodes.
Thou, that with blood abroad buyest us our peace!
The breath of kings is like the breath of gods;
My brother wished thee here, and thou art here.
He will be too kind, and weary thee with
Often welcomes. But the time doth give thee
A welcome above his, or all the world's.

Mel. My lord, my thanks; but these scratch'd

limbs of mine

Have spoke my love and truth unto my friends, More than my tongue e'er could. My mind's the same

It ever was to you: Where I find worth
I love the keeper till he let it go,
And then I follow it.

Diph. Hail, worthy brother!
He, that rejoices not at your return
In safety, is mine enemy for ever.

Mel. I thank thee, Diphilus. But thou art faulty;

Diph. My noble brother, my excuse

Mel. Peace of heart betwixt them! But this is strange.

Lys. The king my brother did it To honour you; and these solemnities

ford,

Mel. 'Tis royal, like himself. But I am sad My speech bears so unfortunate a sound To beautiful Aspatia. There is rage Hid in her father's breast, Calianax,

Bent long against me; and he should not think,
If I could call it back, that I would take
So base revenges, as to scorn the state
Of his neglected daughter. Holds he still
His greatness with the king?

Lys. Yes. But this lady

Walks discontented, with her watery eyes Bent on the earth. The unfrequented woods

me:

The music must be shrill, and all confused,
That stirs my blood; and then I dance with arms.
But is Amintor wed?

Diph. This day.

Mel. All joys upon him! for he is my friend. Wonder not that I call a man so young my friend: His worth is great; valiant he is, and temperate; And one that never thinks his life his own, If his friend need it. When he was a boy, As oft as I returned (as, without boast, I brought home conquest) he would gaze upon me, And view me round, to find in what one limb The virtue lay to do those things he heard. Then would he wish to see my sword, and feel The quickness of the edge, and in his hand Weigh it: He oft would make me smile at this. His youth did promise inuch, and his ripe years Will see it all performed.

Enter ASPATIA, passing by.

Hail, maid and wife !

Thou fair Aspatia, may the holy knot,

That thou hast tied to-day, last till the hand
Of age undo it! mayest thou bring a race
Unto Amintor, that may fill the world
Successively with soldiers!

Asp. My hard fortunes

Deserve not scorn; for I was never proud,

When they were good.

Mel. How is this?

Lys. You are mistaken,

For she is not married.

Mel. You said Amintor was.

Diph. 'Tis true; but

Mel. Pardon me, I did receive

Letters at Patria from my Amintor,
That he should marry her.

Diph. And so it stood

In all opinion long; but your arrival

Stuck full of flowers, she, with a sigh, will tell
Her servants, what a pretty place it were
To bury lovers in; and make her maids
Pluck them, and strew her over like a corse.
She carries with her an infectious grief,
That strikes all her beholders; she will sing
The mournfull'st things, that ever ear hath heard,
And sigh, and sing again; and, when the rest
Of our young ladies, in their wanton blood,
Tell mirthful tales in course, that fill the room
With laughter, she will, with so sad a look,
Bring forth a story of the silent death
Of some forsaken virgin, which her grief
Will put in such a phrase, that, ere she end,
She'll send them weeping one by one away.

Mel. She has a brother under my command,
Like her; a face as womanish as hers;
But with a spirit, that hath much out-grown
The number of his years.

Made me imagine, you had heard the change. Mel. Who hath he taken then?

Lys. A lady, sir,

That bears the light above her, and strikes dead
With flashes of her eye: the fair Evadne,
Your virtuous sister.

VOL. I.

But if you laugh at my rude carriage
In peace, I'll do as much for you in war,
When you come thither. Yet I have a mistress
To bring to your delights; rough though I am,
I have a mistress, and she has a heart,
She says; but, trust me, it is stone, no better;
There is no place, that I can challenge in't.
But you stand still, and here my way lies.

Enter CALIANAX with DIAGORAS. Cal. Diagoras, look to the doors better, for shame! you let in all the world, and anon the king will rail at me-why, very well said-by Jove, the king will have the show in the court. Diag. Why do you swear so, my lord? You know, he will have it here.

Cal. By this light, if he be wise, he will not. Diag. And, if he will not be wise, you are forsworn.

Cal. One may wear out his heart with swearing, and get thanks on no side. I'll be gonelook to it, who will.

Diag. My lord, I shall never keep them out. Pray, stay; your looks will terrify them.

Cal. My looks terrify them, you coxcombly ass, you! I will be judged by all the company, whether thou hast not a worse face than I. Diug. I mean, because they know you and your office.

Cal. Office! I would I could put it off: I am sure I sweat quite through my office. I might have made room at my daughter's wedding: they have near killed her among them; and now I must do service for him, that hath forsaken her. Serve, that will. [Exit.

Diag. He is so humourous since his daughter was forsaken. Hark, hark! there, there! so, so, Codes, Codes! [Knock within.] What now? Mel. [Within.] Open the door. Diag. Who's there?

Mel. [Within.] Melantius.

Diag. I hope your lordship brings no troop with you; for, if you do, I must return them.

Enter MELANTIUS and a Lady.

Mel. None but this lady, sir.

Diag. The ladies are all placed above, save those, that come in the king's troop: The best of Rhodes sit there, and there's room.

Mel. I thank you, sir.--When I have seen you placed, madam, I must attend the king; but, the masque done, I'll wait on you again.

Diag. Stand back there-room for my lord Melantius-pray, bear back-this is no place for such youths and their trulls-let the doors shut again.-No!-do your heads itch! I will scratch them for you.-So, now thrust and hang.Again! who is it now?-I cannot blame my ford Calianax for going away: Would he were here! he would run raging among them, and break a dozen wiser heads than his own, in the twinkling of an eye.-What's the news now?

Within.] I pray you, can you help me to the speech of the master-cook?

Diag. If I open the door, I will cook some of your calves heads. Peace, rogues !-Again! who is it?

Mel. [Within.] Melantius.

Enter CALIANAX.

your age,

And place, to be thus womanish. Forbear!
What you have spoke, I am content to think
The palsy shook your tongue to.

Cal. Why, it is well, if I stand here to place men's wenches.

Mel. I shall forget this place, thy age, my safety,

And, thorough all, cut that poor sickly week,
Thou hast to live, away from thee.

Cal. Nay, I know you can fight for your whore.
Mel. Bate the king, and be he flesh and blood
He lyes, that says it! Thy mother at fifteen
Was black and sinful to her.