A King, and No King, Francis Beaumont & John Fletcher [best books for 20 year olds .TXT] 📗

you, I would speak with you anon.

Bes.

When you please, I will attend your Lordship.

Bac.

Madam, I'le take my leave too.

Pan.

Good Bacurius.

[Exeunt Bes. and Bac.

Gob.

Madam what writes his Majesty to you?

Pan.

O my Lord, the kindest words, I'le keep 'em whilst I live, here in my bosom, there's no art in 'em, they lie disordered in this paper, just as hearty nature speaks 'em.

Gob.

And to me he writes what tears of joy he shed to hear how you were grown in every vertues way, and yields all thanks to me, for that dear care which I was bound to have in training you, there is no Princess living that enjoys a brother of that worth.

Pan.

My Lord, no maid longs more for any thing, And feels more heat and cold within her breast, Than I do now, in hopes to see him.

Gob.

Yet I wonder much At this he writes, he brings along with him A husband for you, that same Captive Prince, And if he loves you as he makes a shew, He will allow you freedom in your choice.

Pan.

And so he will my Lord, I warrant you, he will but offer and give me the power to take or leave.

Gob.

Trust me, were I a Lady, I could not like that man were bargain'd with before I choose him.

Pan.

But I am not built on such wild humours, if I find him worthy, he is not less because he's offer'd.

Spa.

'Tis true, he is not, would he would seem less.

Gob.

I think there's no Lady can affect Another Prince, your brother standing by; He doth Eclipse mens vertues so with his.

Spa.

I know a Lady may, and more I fear Another Lady will.

Pan.

Would I might see him.

Gob.

Why so you shall, my businesses are great, I will attend you when it is his pleasure to see you.

Pan.

I thank you good my Lord.

Gob.

You will be ready Madam.

[Exit Gob.

Pan.

Yes.

Spa.

I do beseech you Madam, send away Your other women, and receive from me A few sad words, which set against your joyes May make 'em shine the more.

Pan.

Sirs, leave me all.

[Exeunt Women.

Spa.

I kneel a stranger here to beg a thing Unfit for me to ask, and you to grant, 'Tis such another strange ill-laid request, As if a begger should intreat a King To leave his Scepter, and his Throne to him And take his rags to wander o're the world Hungry and cold.

Pan.

That were a strange request.

Spa.

As ill is mine.

Pan. Then do not utter it.

Spa.

Alas 'tis of that nature, that it must Be utter'd, I, and granted, or I die: I am asham'd to speak it; but where life Lies at the stake, I cannot think her woman

That will not take something unreasonably to hazard saving of it: I shall seem a strange Petitioner, that wish all ill to them I beg of, e're they give me ought; yet so I must: I would you were not fair, nor wise, for in your ill consists my good: if you were foolish, you would hear my prayer, if foul, you had not power to hinder me: he would not love you.

Pan.

What's the meaning of it.

Spa.

Nay, my request is more without the bounds Of reason yet: for 'tis not in the power Of you to do, what I would have you grant.

Pan.

Why then 'tis idle, pray thee speak it out.

Spa.

Your brother brings a Prince into this land, Of such a noble shape, so sweet a grace, So full of worth withal, that every maid That looks upon him, gives away her self To him for ever; and for you to have He brings him: and so mad is my demand That I desire you not to have this man, This excellent man, for whom you needs must die, If you should miss him. I do now expect You should laugh at me.

Pan.

Trust me I could weep rather, for I have found him In all thy words a strange disjoynted sorrow.

Spa.

'Tis by me his own desire so, that you would not love him.

Pan.

His own desire! why credit me Thalestris, I am no common wooer: if he shall wooe me, his worth may be such, that I dare not swear I will not love him; but if he will stay to have me wooe him, I will promise thee, he may keep all his graces to himself, and fear no ravishing from me.

Spa.

'Tis yet his own desire, but when he sees your face, I fear it will not be; therefore I charge you as you have pity, stop these tender ears from his enchanting voice, close up those eyes, that you may neither catch a dart from him, nor he from you; I charge you as you hope to live in quiet; for when I am dead, for certain I will walk to visit him if he break promise with me: for as fast as Oaths without a formal Ceremony can make me, I am to him.

Pan.

Then be fearless; For if he were a thing 'twixt God and man, I could gaze on him; if I knew it sin To love him without passion: Dry your eyes, I swear you shall enjoy him still for me, I will not hinder you; but I perceive You are not what you seem, rise, rise Thalestris, If your right name be so.

Spa.

Indeed it is not, Spaconia is my name; but I desire not to be known to other.

Pan.

Why, by me you shall not, I will never do you wrong, what good I can, I will, think not my birth or education such, that I should injure a stranger Virgin; you are welcome hither, in company you wish to be commanded, but when we are alone, I shall be ready to be your servant.

[Exeunt.

Enter three Men and a Woman.

1.

Come, come, run, run, run.

2.

We shall out-go her.

3.

One were better be hang'd than carry out women fidling to these shews.

Wom.

Is the King hard by?

1.

You heard he with the Bottles said, he thought we should come too late: What abundance of people here is!

Wom.

But what had he in those Bottles?

3.

I know not.

2.

Why, Ink goodman fool.

3.

Ink, what to do?

1.

Why the King look you, will many times call for these Bottles, and break his mind to his friends.

Wom.

Let's take our places, we shall have no room else.

2.

The man told us he would walk o' foot through the people.

3.

I marry did he.

1.

Our shops are well look't to now.

2.

'Slife, yonder's my Master, I think.

1.

No 'tis not he.

Enter a man with two Citizens-wives.

1 Cit.

Lord how fine the fields be, what sweet living 'tis in the Country!

2 Cit.

I poor souls, God help 'em; they live as contentedly as one of us.

1 Cit.

My husbands Cousin would have had me gone into the Country last year, wert thou ever there?

2 Cit.

I, poor souls, I was amongst 'em once.

1 Cit.

And what kind of creatures are they, for love of God?

2 Cit.

Very good people, God help 'em.

1 Cit.

Wilt thou go down with me this Summer when I am brought to bed?

2 Cit.

Alas, it is no place for us.

1 Cit.

Why, pray thee?

2 Cit.

Why you can have nothing there, there's no body cryes brooms.

1 Cit.

No?

2 Cit.

No truly, nor milk.

1 Cit.

Nor milk, how do they?

2 Cit.

They are fain to milk themselves i'th' Country.

1 Cit.

Good Lord! but the people there, I think, will be very dutiful to one of us.

2 Cit.

I God knows will they, and yet they do not greatly care for our husbands.

1 Cit.

Do they not? Alas! I'good faith I cannot blame them: for we do not greatly care for them our selves. Philip, I pray choose us a place.

Phil.

There's the best forsooth.

1 Cit.

By your leave good people a little.

3.

What's the matter?

Phil.

I pray you my friend, do not thrust my Mistress so, she's with Child.

2.

Let her look to her self then, has she not had showing enough yet? if she stay shouldring here, she may haps go home with a cake in her belly.

3.

How now, goodman squitter-breech, why do you lean on me?

Phi.

Because I will.

3.

Will you Sir sawce-box?

1 Cit.

Look if one ha'not struck Philip, come hither Philip, why did he strike thee?

Phil.

For leaning on him.

1 Cit.

Why didst thou lean on him?

Phil.

I did not think he would have struck me.

1 Cit.

As God save me la thou'rt as wild as a Buck, there's no quarel but thou'rt at one end or other on't.

3.

It's at the first end then, for he'l ne'r stay the last.

1 Cit.

Well slip-string, I shall meet with you.

3.

When you will.

1 Cit.

I'le give a crown to meet with you.

3.