Enter Gobrias, Panthea, and Spaconia.
Gob.
Have you written Madam?
Pan.
Yes, good Gobrias.
Gob.
And with a kindness, and such winning words
As may provoke him, at one instant feel
His double fault, your wrong, and his own rashness?
Pan.
I have sent words enough, if words may win him
From his displeasure; and such words I hope,
As shall gain much upon his goodness, Gobrias.
Yet fearing they are many, and a womans,
A poor belief may follow, I have woven
As many truths within 'em to speak for me,
That if he be but gracious, and receive 'em--
Gob.
Good Lady be not fearful, though he should not
Give you your present end in this, believe it,
You shall feel, if your vertue can induce you
To labour on't, this tempest which I know,
Is but a poor proof 'gainst your patience:
All those contents, your spirit will arrive at,
Newer and sweeter to you; your Royal brother,
When he shall once collect himself, and see
How far he has been asunder from himself;
What a meer stranger to his golden temper:
Must from those roots of vertue, never dying,
Though somewhat stopt with humour, shoot again
Into a thousand glories, bearing his fair branches
High as our hopes can look at, straight as justice,
Loaden with ripe contents; he loves you dearly,
I know it, and I hope I need not farther
Win you to understand it.
Pan.
I believe it.
But howsoever, I am sure I love him dearly:
So dearly, that if any thing I write
For my enlarging should beget his anger,
Heaven be a witness with me and my faith,
I had rather live intomb'd here.
Gob.
You shall not feel a worse stroke than your grief,
I am sorry 'tis so sharp, I kiss your hand,
And this night will deliver this true story,
With this hand to your Brother.
Pan.
Peace go with you, you are a good man.
[Exit Gob.
My Spaconia, why are you ever sad thus?
Spa.
O dear Lady.
Pan.
Prethee discover not a way to sadness,
Nearer than I have in me, our two sorrows
Work like two eager Hawks, who shall get highest;
How shall I lessen thine? for mine I fear
Is easier known than cur'd.
Spa.
Heaven comfort both,
And give you happy ends, however I
Fall in my stubborn fortunes.
Pan.
This but teaches
How to be more familiar with our sorrows,
That are too much our masters: good Spaconia
How shall I do you service?
Spa.
Noblest Lady,
You make me more a slave still to your goodness,
And only live to purchase thanks to pay you,
For that is all the business of my life: now
I will be bold, since you will have it so,
To ask a noble favour of you.
Pan.
Speak it, 'tis yours, for from so sweet a vertue,
No ill demand has issue.
Spa.
Then ever vertuous, let me beg your will
In helping me to see the Prince Tigranes,
With whom I am equal prisoner, if not more.
Pan.
Reserve me to a greater end Spaconia;
Bacurius cannot want so much good manners
As to deny your gentle visitation,
Though you came only with your own command.
Spa.
I know they will deny me gracious Madam,
Being a stranger, and so little fam'd,
So utter empty of those excellencies
That tame Authority; but in you sweet Lady,
All these are natural; beside, a power
Deriv'd immediate from your Royal brother,
Whose least word in you may command the Kingdom.
Pan.
More than my word Spaconia, you shall carry,
For fear it fail you.
Spa.
Dare you trust a Token?
Madam I fear I am grown too bold a begger.
Pan.
You are a pretty one, and trust me Lady
It joyes me, I shall do a good to you,
Though to my self I never shall be happy:
Here, take this Ring, and from me as a Token
Deliver it; I think they will not stay you:
So all your own desires go with you Lady.
Spa.
And sweet peace to your Grace.
Pan.
Pray Heaven I find it.
[Exeunt.
Enter Tigranes, in prison.
Tigr.
Fool that I am, I have undone my self,
And with my own hand turn'd my fortune round,
That was a fair one: I have childishly
Plaid with my hope so long, till I have broke it,
And now too late I mourn for't; O Spaconia!
Thou hast found an even way to thy revenge now,
Why didst thou follow me like a faint shadow,
To wither my desires? But wretched fool,
Why did I plant thee 'twixt the Sun and me,
To make me freeze thus? Why did I prefer her
To the fair Princess? O thou fool, thou fool,
Thou family of fools, live like a slave still,
And in thee bear thine own hell and thy torment,
Thou hast deserv'd: Couldst thou find no Lady
But she that has thy hopes to put her to,
And hazard all thy peace? None to abuse,
But she that lov'd thee ever? poor Spaconia,
And so much lov'd thee, that in honesty
And honour thou art bound to meet her vertues:
She that forgot the greatness of her grief
And miseries, that must follow such mad passions,
Endless and wild as women; she that for thee
And with thee left her liberty, her name,
And Country, you have paid me equal, Heavens,
And sent my own rod to correct me with;
A woman: for inconstancy I'le suffer,
Lay it on justice, till my soul melt in me
For my unmanly, beastly, sudden doting
Upon a new face: after all my oaths
Many and strange ones,
I feel my old fire flame again and burn
So strong and violent, that should I see her
Again, the grief and that would kill me.
Enter Bacurius And Spaconia.
Bac.
Lady, your token I acknowledge, you may pass;
There is the King.
Spa.
I thank your Lordship for it.
[Exit Bac.
Tigr.
She comes, she comes, shame hide me ever from her,
Would I were buried, or so far remov'd
Light might not find me out, I dare not see her.
Spa.
Nay never hide your self; or were you hid
Where earth hides all her riches, near her Center;
My wrongs without more day would light me to you:
I must speak e're I die; were all your greatness
Doubled upon you, y'are a perjur'd man,
And only mighty in your wickedness
Of wronging women. Thou art false, false Prince;
I live to see it, poor Spaconia lives
To tell thee thou art false; and then no more;
She lives to tell thee thou art more unconstant,
Than all ill women ever were together.
Thy faith is firm as raging over-flowes,
That no bank can command; as lasting
As boyes gay bubbles, blown i'th' Air and broken:
The wind is fixt to thee: and sooner shall
The beaten Mariner with his shrill whistle
Calm the loud murmur of the troubled main,
And strike it smooth again; than thy soul fall
To have peace in love with any: Thou art all
That all good men must hate; and if thy story
Shall tell succeeding ages what thou wert,
O let it spare me in it, lest true lovers
In pity of my wrong, burn thy black Legend,
And with their curses, shake thy sleeping ashes.
Tigr.
Oh! oh!
Spa.
The destinies, I hope, have pointed out
Our ends, that thou maist die for love,
Though not for me; for this assure thy self,
The Princess hates thee deadly, and will sooner
Be won to marry with a Bull, and safer
Than such a beast as thou art: I have struck,
I fear, too deep; beshrow me for't; Sir,
This sorrow works me like a cunning friendship,
Into the same piece with it; 'tis asham'd,
Alas, I have been too rugged: Dear my Lord,
I am sorry I have spoken any thing,
Indeed I am, that may add more restraint
To that too much you have: good Sir, be pleas'd
To think it was a fault of love, not malice;
And do as I will do, forgive it Prince.
I do, and can forgive the greatest sins
To me you can repent of; pray believe.
Tigr.
O my Spaconia! O thou vertuous woman!
Spa.
Nay, more, the King Sir.
Enter Arbaces, Bacurius, Mardonius.
Arb.
Have you been carefull of our noble Prisoner,
That he want nothing fitting for his greatness?
Bac.
I hope his grace will quit me for my care Sir.
Arb.
'Tis well, royal Tigranes, health.
Tigr.
More than the strictness of this place can give Sir,
I offer back again to great Arbaces.
Arb.
We thank you worthy Prince, and pray excuse us,
We have not seen you since your being here,
I hope your noble usage has been equall
With your own person: your imprisonment,
If it be any, I dare say is easie,
And shall not last t[w]o dayes.
Tigr.
I thank you;
My usage here has been the same it was,
Worthy a royal Conqueror. For my restraint,
It came unkindly, because much unlook'd for;
But I must bear it.
Arb.
What Lady's that? Bacurius?
Bac.
One of the Princess women, Sir.
Arb.
I fear'd it, why comes she hither?
Bac.
To speak with the Prince Tigranes.
Arb.
From whom, Bacurius?
Bac.
From the Princess, Sir.
Arb.
I knew I had seen her.
Mar.
His fit begins to take him now again,
'Tis a strange Feaver, and 'twill shake us all anon, I fear,
Would he were well cur'd of this raging folly:
Give me the warrs, where men are mad, and may talk what they
list, and held the bravest fellows; This pelting prating peace is
good for nothing: drinking's a vertue to't.
Arb.
I see there's truth in no man, nor obedience,
But for his own ends, why did you let her in?
Bac.
It was your own command to barr none from him,
Besides, the Princess sent her ring Sir, for my warrant.
Arb.
A token to Tigranes, did she not?
Sir tell truth.
Bac.
I do not use to lie Sir,
'Tis no way I eat or live by, and I think,
This is no token Sir.
Mar.
This combat has undone him: if he had been well beaten, he had
been temperate; I shall never see him handsome again, till he
have a Horse-mans staffe yok'd thorow his shoulders, or an arm
broken with a bullet.
Arb.
I am trifled with.
Bac.
Sir?
Arb.
I know it, as I know thee to be false.
Mar.
Now the clap comes.
Bac.
You never knew me so, Sir I dare speak it,
And durst a worse man tell me, though my better--
Mar.
'Tis well said, by my soul.
Arb.
Sirra, you answer as you had no life.
Bac.
That I fear Sir to lose nobly.
Arb.
I say Sir, once again.
Bac.
You may say what yo[u] please, Sir,
Would I might do so.
Arb.
I will, Sir, and say openly, this woman carries letters,
By my life I know she carries letters, this woman does it.
Mar.
Would Bessus were here to take her aside and search her, He
would quickly tell you what she carried Sir.
Arb.
I have found it out, this woman carries letters.
Mar.
If this hold, 'twill be an ill world for Bawdes, Chamber-maids
and Post-boyes, I thank heaven I have none I but his letters
patents, things of his own enditing.
Arb.
Prince, this cunning cannot do't.
Tigr.
Doe, What Sir? I reach you not.
Arb.
It shall not serve your turn, Prince.
Tigr.
Serve my turn Sir?
Arb.
I Sir, it shall not serve your turn.
Tigr.
Be plainer, good Sir.
Arb.
This woman shall carry no more letters back to your
Love Panthea, by Heaven she shall not, I say she shall not.
Mar.
This would make a Saint swear like a souldier.
Tigr.
This beats me more, King, than the blowes you gave me.
Arb.
Take'em away both, and together let them prisoners be, strictly
and closely kept, or Sirra, your life shall answer it, and let
no body speak with'em hereafter.
Tigr.
Well, I am subject to you,
And must indure these passions:
This is the imprisonment I have look'd for always.
And the dearer place I would choose.
[Exeunt Tigr. Spa. Bac.
Mar.
Sir, you have done well now.
Arb.
Dare you reprove it?
Mar.
No.
Arb.
You must be crossing me.
Mar.
I have no letters Sir to anger you,
But a dry sonnet of my Corporals
To an old Suttlers wife, and that I'll burn, Sir.
'Tis like to prove a fine age for the Ignorant.
Arb.
How darst thou so often forfeit thy life?
Thou know'st 'tis in my power to take it.
Mar.
Yes, and I know you wo'not, or if you doe, you'll miss it
quickly.
Arb.
Why?
Mar.
Who shall tell you of these childish follies
When I am dead? who shall put to his power
To draw those vertues out of a flood of humors,
When they are drown'd, and make'em shine again?
No, cut my head off:
Then you may talk, and be believed, and grow worse,
And have your too self-glorious temper rot
Into a deep sleep, and the Kingdom with you,
Till forraign swords be in your throats, and slaughter
Be every where about you like your flatterers.
Do, kill me.
Arb.
Prethee be tamer, good Mardonius,
Thou know'st I love thee, nay I honour thee,
Believe it good old Souldier, I am thine;
But I am rack'd clean from my self, bear with me,
Woot thou bear with me my Mardonius?
Enter Gobrias.
Mar.
There comes a good man, love him too, he's temperate,
You may live to have need of such a vertue,
Rage is not still in fashion.
Arb.
Welcome good Gobrias.
Gob.
My service and this letter to your Grace.
Arb.
From whom?
Gob.
From the rich Mine of vertue and beauty,
Your mournfull Sister.
Arb.
She is in prison, Gobrias, is she not?
Gob.
She is Sir, till your pleasure to enlarge her,
Which on my knees I beg. Oh 'tis not fit,
That all the sweetness of the world in one,
The youth and vertue that would tame wild Tygers,
And wilder people, that have known no manners,
Should live thus cloistred up; for your loves sake,
If there be any in that noble heart,
To her a wretched Lady, and forlorn,
Or for her love to you, which is as much
As nature and obedience ever gave,
Have pity on her beauties.
Arb.
Pray thee stand up; 'Tis true, she is too fair,
And all these commendations but her own,
Would thou had'st never so commended her,
Or I nere liv'd to have heard it Gobrias;
If thou but know'st the wrong her beautie does her,
Thou wouldst in pity of her be a lyar,
Thy ignorance has drawn me wretched man,
Whither my self nor thou canst well tell: O my fate!
I think she loves me, but I fear another
Is deeper in her heart: How thinkst thou Gobrias?
Gob.
I do beseech your Grace believe it not,
For let me perish if it be not false. Good Sir, read her Letter.
Mar.
This Love, or what a devil it is I know not, begets more mischief
than a Wake. I had rather be well beaten, starv'd, or lowsie,
than live within the Air on't. He that had seen this brave fellow
Charge through a grove of Pikes but t'other day, and look upon
him now, will ne'r believe his eyes again: if he continue thus
but two days more, a Taylor may beat him with one hand tied
behind him.
Arb.
Alas, she would be at liberty.
And there be a thousand reasons Gobrias,
Thousands that will deny't:
Which if she knew, she would contentedly
Be where she is: and bless her vertues for it,
And me, though she were closer, she would, Gobrias,
Good man indeed she would.
Gob.
Then good Sir, for her satisfaction,
Send for her and with reason make her know
Why she must live thus from you.
Arb.
I will; go bring her to me.
[Exeunt all.
Enter Bessus, And two Sword-men, and a Boy.
Bes.
Y'are very welcome both; some stools boy,
And reach a Table; Gentlemen o'th' Sword,
Pray sit without more complement; be gone child.
I have been curious in the searching of you,
Because I understand you wise and valiant persons.
1.
We understand our selves Sir.
Bes.
Nay Gentlemen, and dear friends o'th' Sword,
No complement I pray, but to the cause
I hang upon, which in few, is my honour.
2.
You cannot hang too much Sir, for your honour,
But to your cause.