John Fletcher - Philaster; Or, Love Lies a Bleeding

Thra . I fear.

Cle . Who does not?

Di . I fear not for my self, 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 my self)
To what a person, of what eminence,
Ripe expectation of what faculties,
Manners and vertues you would wed your Kingdoms?
You in me have your wishes. Oh this Country,
By more than all my hopes I hold it
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 Princes word,
There shall be nothing to make up a Kingdom
Mighty, and flourishing, defenced, fear'd,
Equall to be commanded and obey'd,
But through the travels of my life I'le find it,
And tye it to this Country. And I vow
My reign shall be so easie 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.

King . Rise, you have it Sir.

King . Speak your intents Sir.

Phi . Shall I speak 'um freely?
Be still my royal Soveraign.

King . As a subject
We give you freedom.

Di . Now it heats.

Phi . Then thus I turn
My language to you Prince, you foreign man.
Ne're stare nor put on wonder, for you must
Indure me, and you shall. This earth you tread upon
(A dowry as you hope with this fair Princess,
Whose memory I bow to) was not left
By my dead Father (Oh, I had a Father)
To your inheritance, and I up and living,
Having my self 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 Fathers 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.

Pha . He's mad beyond cure, mad.

Di . Here's a fellow has some fire in's veins:
The outlandish Prince looks like a Tooth-drawer.

Phi . Sir, Prince of Poppingjayes, I'le make it well appear
To you I am not mad.

King . You 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 makes nothing.

King . I do not fancy this,
Call our Physicians: sure he is somewhat tainted.

Thra . I do not think 'twill prove so.

Cle . Peace, we are one soul.

Pha . What you have 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; without disputing
Your Genealogies , or taking knowledge
Whose branch you are. The King will leave it me;
And I dare make it mine; you have your answer.

Phi . If thou wert sole inheritor to him,
That made the world his; and couldst see no sun
Shine upon any but thine: were Pharamond
As truly valiant, as I feel him cold,
And ring'd among the choicest of his friends,
Such as would blush to talk such serious follies,
Or back such bellied commendations,
And from this present, spight of all these bugs,
You should hear further from me.

King . Sir, you wrong the Prince:
I gave you not this freedom to brave our best friends,
You deserve our frown: go to, be better temper'd.

Phi . It must be Sir, when I am nobler us'd.

Gal . Ladyes,
This would have been a pattern of succession,
Had he ne're met this mischief. By my life,
He is the worthiest the true name of man
This day within my knowledge.

Meg . I cannot tell what you may call your knowledge,
But the other is the man set in mine eye;
Oh! 'tis a Prince of wax.

Gal . A Dog it is.

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 want's great, and now nought but hopes and fears,
My wrongs would make ill riddles to be laught at.
Dare you be still my King and right me not?

King . Give me your wrongs in private.

Phi . Take them, and ease me of a load would bow strong Atlas.

Di . He dares not stand the shock.