A King, and No King - Francis Beaumont & John Fletcher (book series for 10 year olds TXT) 📗

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.

Bes.

Be wise, and speak truth, my first doubt is, My beating by my Prince.

1.

Stay there a little Sir, do you doubt a beating? Or have you had a beating by your Prince?

Bes.

Gentlemen o'th' Sword, my Prince has beaten me.

2.

Brother, what think you of this case?

1.

If he has beaten him, the case is clear.

2.

If he have beaten him, I grant the case; But how? we cannot be too subtil in this business, I say, but how?

Bes.

Even with his Royal hand.

1.

Was it a blow of love, or indignation?

Bes.

'Twas twenty blows of indignation, Gentlemen, Besides two blows o'th face.

2.

Those blows o'th' face have made a new cause on't, The rest were but an horrible rudeness.

1.

Two blows o'th' face, and given by a worse man, I must confess, as the Sword-men say, had turn'd the business: Mark me brother, by a worse man; but being by his Prince, had they been ten, and those ten drawn teeth, besides the hazard of his nose for ever;