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

At a Bawdy-house.

1 Cit.

I you're full of your Roguery; but if I do meet you it shall cost me a fall.

Flourish. Enter one running.

4

The King, the King, the King. Now, now, now, now.

Flourish. Enter Arb. Tigr. The two Kings and Mardonius.

All.

God preserve your Majesty.

Arb.

I thank you all, now are my joyes at full, when I behold you safe, my loving Subjects; by you I grow, 'tis your united love that lifts me to this height: all the account that I can render you for all the love you have bestowed on me, all your expences to maintain my war, is but a little word, you will imagine 'tis slender paiment, yet 'tis such a word, as is not to be bought but with your bloods, 'tis Peace.

All.

God preserve your Majesty.

Arb.

Now you may live securely i'your Towns, Your Children round about you; may sit Under your Vines, and make the miseries Of other Kingdoms a discourse for you, And lend them sorrows; for your selves, you may Safely forget there are such things as tears, And you may all whose good thoughts I have gain'd, Hold me unworthy, where I think my life A sacrifice too great to keep you thus In such a calm estate.

All.

God bless your Majesty.

Arb.

See all good people, I have brought the man whose very name you fear'd, a captive home; behold him, 'tis Tigranes; in your heart sing songs of gladness, and deliverance.

1 Cit.

Out upon him.

2 Cit.

How he looks.

3 Wom.

Hang him, hang him.

Mar.

These are sweet people.

Tigr.

Sir, you do me wrong, to render me a scorned spectacle to common people.

Arb.

It was so far from me to mean it so: if I have ought deserv'd, my loving Subjects, let me beg of you, not to revile this Prince, in whom there dwells all worth of which the name of a man is capable, valour beyond compare, the terrour of his name has stretcht it self where ever there is sun; and yet for you I fought with him single, and won him too; I made his valour stoop, and brought that name soar'd to so unbeliev'd a height, to fall beneath mine: this inspir'd with all your loves, I did perform, and will for your content, be ever ready for a greater work.

All.

The Lord bless your Majesty.

Tigr.

So he has made me amends now with a speech in commendation of himself: I would not be so vain-glorious.

Arb.

If there be any thing in which I may Do good to any creature, here speak out; For I must leave you: and it troubles me, That my occasions for the good of you, Are such as call me from you: else, my joy Would be to spend my days among you all. You shew your loves in these large multitudes That come to meet me, I will pray for you, Heaven prosper you, that you may know old years, And live to see your childrens children sit At your boards with plenty: when there is A want of any thing, let it be known To me, and I will be a Father to you: God keep you all.

[ Flourish. Exeunt Kings and their Train.

All.

God bless your Majesty, God bless your Majesty.

1.

Come, shall we go? all's done.

Wom.

I for God sake, I have not made a fire yet.

2.

Away, away, all's done.

3.

Content, farewel Philip.

1 Cit.

Away you halter-sack you.

2.

Philip will not fight, he's afraid on's face.

Phil.

I marry am I afraid of my face.

3.

Thou wouldst be Philip if thou sawst it in a glass; it looks so like a Visour.

[Exeunt 2., 3., and Woman.

1 Cit.

You'l be hang'd sirra: Come Philip walk before us homewards; did not his Majesty say he had brought us home Pease for all our money?

2 Cit.

Yes marry did he.

1 Cit.

They're the first I heard of this year by my troth, I longed for some of 'em: did he not say we should have some?

2 Cit.

Yes, and so we shall anon I warrant you have every one a peck brought home to our houses.



Actus Tertius.

Enter Arbaces and Gobrias.

Arb.

My Sister take it ill?

Gob.

Not very ill. Something unkindly she does take it Sir to have Her Husband chosen to her hands.

Arb.

Why Gobrias let her, I must have her know, my will and not her own must govern her: what will she marry with some slave at home?

Gob.

O she is far from any stubbornness, you much mistake her, and no doubt will like where you would have her, but when you behold her, you will be loth to part with such a jewel.

Arb.

To part with her? why Gobrias, art thou mad? she is my Sister.

Gob.

Sir, I know she is: but it were pity to make poor our Land, with such a beauty to enrich another.

Arb.

Pish will she have him?

Gob.

I do hope she will not, I think she will Sir.

Arb.

Were she my Father and my Mother too, and all the names for which we think folks friends, she should be forc't to have him when I know 'tis fit: I will not hear her say she's loth.

Gob.

Heaven bring my purpose luckily to pass, you know 'tis just, she will not need constraint she loves you so.

Arb.

How does she love me, speak?

Gob.

She loves you more than people love their health, that live by labour; more than I could love a man that died for me, if he could live again.

Arb.

She is not like her mother then.

Gob.

O no, when you were in Armenia, I durst not let her know when you were hurt: For at the first on every little scratch, She kept her Chamber, wept, and could not eat, Till you were well, and many times the news Was so long coming, that before we heard She was as near her death, as you your health.

Arb.

Alas poor soul, but yet she must be rul'd; I know not how I shall requite her well. I long to see her, have you sent for her, To tell her I am ready?

Gob.

Sir I have.

Enter 1 Gent, and Tigranes.

1 Gent.

Sir, here is the Armenian King.

Arb.

He's welcome.

1 Gent.

And the Queen-mother, and the Princess wait without.

Arb.

Good Gobrias bring 'em in. Tigranes, you will think you are arriv'd In a strange Land, where Mothers cast to poyson Their only Sons; think you you shall be safe?

Tigr.

Too safe I am Sir.

Enter Gobrias, Arane, Panthea, Spaconia, Bacurius, Mardonius and Bessus, and two Gentlemen.

Ara.

As low as this I bow to you, and would As low as is my grave, to shew a mind Thankful for all your mercies.

Arb.

O stand up, And let me kneel, the light will be asham'd To see observance done to me by you.

Ara.

You are my King.

Arb.

You are my Mother, rise; As far be all your faults from your own soul, As from my memory; then you shall be As white as innocence her self.

Ara.

I came Only to shew my duty, and acknowledge My sorrows for my sins; longer to stay Were but to draw eyes more attentively Upon my shame, that power that kept you safe From me, preserve you still.

Arb.

Your own desires shall be your guide.

[Exit Arane.

Pan.

Now let me die, since I have seen my Lord the King Return in safetie, I have seen all good that life Can shew me; I have ne're another wish For Heaven to grant, nor were it fit I should; For I am bound to spend my age to come, In giving thanks that this was granted me.

Gob.

Why does not your Majesty speak?

Arb.

To whom?

Gob.

To the Princess.

Pan.

Alas Sir, I am fearful, you do look On me, as if I were some loathed thing That you were finding out a way to shun.

Gob.

Sir, you should speak to her.

Arb.

Ha?

Pan.

I know I am unworthy, yet not ill arm'd, with which innocence here I will kneel, till I am one with earth, but I will gain some words and kindness from you.

Tigr.

Will you speak Sir?

Arb.

Speak, am I what I was? What art thou that dost creep into my breast, And dar'st not see my face? shew forth thy self: I feel a pair of fiery wings displai'd Hither, from hence; you shall not tarry there, Up, and be gone, if thou beest Love be gone: Or I will tear thee from my wounded breast, Pull thy lov'd Down away, and with thy Quill By this right arm drawn from thy wonted wing, Write to thy laughing Mother i'thy bloud, That you are powers bely'd, and all your darts Are to be blown away, by men resolv'd, Like dust; I know thou fear'st my words, away.

Tigr.

O misery! why should he be so slow? There can no falshood come of loving her; Though I have given my faith; she is a thing Both to be lov'd and serv'd beyond my faith: I would he would present me to her quickly.

Pan.

Will you not speak at all? are you so far From kind words? yet to save my modesty, That must talk till you answer, do not stand As you were dumb, say something, though it be Poyson'd with anger, that it may strike me dead.

Mar.

Have you no life at all? for man-hood sake Let her not kneel,