A King, and No King - Francis Beaumont & John Fletcher (book series for 10 year olds TXT) 📗
- Author: Francis Beaumont & John Fletcher
Book online «A King, and No King - Francis Beaumont & John Fletcher (book series for 10 year olds TXT) 📗». Author Francis Beaumont & John Fletcher
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Lig.
Madam I should have scene you.
Spa.
O good Sir forgive me.
Lig.
Forgive you, why I am no kin to you, am I?
Spa.
Should it be measur'd by my meane deserts, Indeed you are not.
Lig.
Thou couldst prate unhappily Ere thou couldst goe, would thou couldst doe as well. And how does your custome hold out here. Spa. Sir.
Lig.
Are you in private still, or how?
Spa.
What doe you meane?
Lig.
Doe you take money? are you come to sell sinne yet? perhaps I can helpe you to liberall Clients: or has not the King cast you off yet? O thou wild creature, whose best commendation is, that thou art a young Whore. I would thy Mother had liv'd to see this: or rather would I had dyed ere I had seene it: why did'st not make me acquainted when thou wert first resolv'd to be a Whore? I would have seene thy hot lust satisfied more privately. I would have kept a dancer, and a whole consort of Musitions in mine owne house, onely to fiddle thee. Spa. Sir I was never whore.
Lig.
If thou couldst not say so much for thy selfe thou shouldst be Carted.
Tig.
Ligones I have read it, and like it, You shall deliver it.
Lig.
Well Sir I will: but I have private busines with you.
Tig.
Speake, what ist?
Lig.
How has my age deserv'd so ill of you, That you can picke no strumpets in the Land, But out of my breed.
Tig.
Strumpets good Ligones?
Lig.
Yes, and I wish to have you know, I scorne To get a Whore for any Prince alive, And yet scorne will not helpe me thinkes: My daughter Might have beene spar'd, there were enough beside.
Tig.
May I not prosper, but Shee's innocent As morning light for me, and I dare sweare For all the world.
Lig.
Why is she with you then? Can she waite on you better then your men, Has she a gift in plucking off your stockings, Can she make Cawdles well, or cut your Comes, Why doe you keepe her with you? For your Queene I know you doe contemne her, so should I And every Subject else thinke much at it.
Tig.
Let um thinke much, but tis more firme then earth Thou seest thy Queene there.
Lig.
Then have I made a faire hand, I cald her Whore, If I shall speake now as her Father, I cannot chuse But greatly rejoyce that she shall be a Queene: but if I should speake to you as a Statesman shee were more fit To be your Whore.
Tig.
Get you about your businesse to Arbaces, Now you talke idlie.
Lig.
Yes Sir, I will goe. And shall she be a Queene, she had more wit Then her old Father when she ranne away: Shall shee be a Queene, now by my troth tis fine, Ile dance out of all measure at her wedding: Shall I not Sir?
Tigr.
Yes marrie shalt thou.
Lig.
He make these witherd Kexes beare my bodie Two houres together above ground.
Tigr.
Nay, goe, my businesse requires haste.
Lig.
Good God preserve you, you are an excellent King.
Spa.
Farewell good Father.
Lig.
Farewell sweete vertuous Daughter; I never was so joyfull in my life, That I remember: shall shee be a Queene? Now I perceive a man may weepe for joy, I had thought they had lied that said so.
Exit.
Tig.
Come my deare love.
Spa.
But you may see another May alter that againe.
Tigr.
Urge it no more; I have made up a new strong constancie, Not to be shooke with eyes; I know I have The passions of a man, but if I meete With any subject that shall hold my eyes More firmely then is fit; Ile thinke of thee, and runne away from it: let that suffice.
Exeunt.
Enter Bacurius, and a servant.
Bac.
Three gentlemen without to speake with me?
Ser.
Yes Sir.
Bac.
Let them come in.
Ser.
They are enterd Sir already.
Enter Bessus, and Swordmen.
Bac.
Now fellowes, your busines, are these the Gentlemen.
Bess.
My Lord I have made bold to bring these Gentlemen my Friends ath' sword along with me.
Bac.
I am afraid youle fight then.
Bes.
My good Lord I will not, your Lordship is mistaken, Feare not Lord.
Bac.
Sir I am sorrie fort.
Bes.
I can aske no more in honor, Gentlemen you heare my Lord is sorrie.
Bac.
Not that I have beaten you, but beaten one that will be beaten: one whose dull bodie will require launcing: As surfeits doe the diet, spring and full. Now to your swordmen, what come they for good Captaine Stock-fish?
Bes.
It seemes your Lordship has forgot my name.
Bac.
No, nor your nature neither, though they are things fitter I confesse for anything, then my remembrance, or anie honestmans, what shall these billets doe, be pilde up in my Wood-yard?
Bes.
Your Lordship holds your mirth still, God continue it: but for these Gentlemen they come.
Bac.
To sweare you are a Coward, spare your Booke, I doe beleeve it.
Bes.
Your Lordship still drawes wide, they come to vouch under their valiant hands, I am no Coward.
Bac.
That would be a shew indeed worth seeing: sirra be wise and take money for this motion, travell with it, and where the name of Bessus has been knowne, or a good Coward stirring, twill yeeld more then a tilting. This will prove more beneficiall to you, if you be thriftie, then your Captaineship, and more naturall; Men of most valiant hands is this true?
2.
It is so most renowned, Tis somewhat strange.
1.
Lord, it is strange, yet true; wee have examined from your Lordships foote there to this mans head, the nature of the beatings; and we doe find his honour is come off cleane, and sufficient: This as our swords shall helpe us.
Bac.
You are much bound to you bilbow-men, I am glad you are straight again Captaine: twere good you would thinke some way to gratifie them, they have undergone a labour for you Bessus, would have puzzled hercules, with all his valour.
2.
Your Lordship must understand we are no men ath' Law, that take pay for our opinions: it is sufficient wee have cleer'd our friend.
Bac.
Yet here is something due, which I as toucht in conscience will discharge Captaine; Ile pay this rent for you.
Bess.
Spare your selfe my good Lord; my brave friends aime at nothing but the vertue.
Bac.
Thats but a cold discharge Sir for their paines.
2.
O Lord, my good Lord.
Bac.
Be not so modest, I will give you something.
Bes.
They shall dine with your Lordship, that's sufficient.
Bac.
Something in hand the while; ye rogues, ye apple-squiers: doe you come hether with your botled valour, your windie frothe, to limit out my beatings.
1.
I doe beseech your Lordship.
2.
O good Lord.
Bac.
Sfoote, what a many of beaten slaves are here? get me a cudgell sirra, and a tough one.
2.
More of your foot, I doe beseech your Lordship.
Bac.
You shall, you shall dog, and your fellow beagle.
1.
A this side good my Lord.
Bac.
Off with your swords, for if you hurt my foote, Ile have you fleade you rascals.
1.
Mines off my Lord.
2.
I beseech your Lordship stay a little, my strap's tied to my codpiece point: Now when you please.
Bac.
Captaine, these are your valiant friends, you long for a little too?
Bess.
I am verie well, I humblie thanke your Lordship.
Bac.
Whats that in your pocket slave, my key you mungrell? thy buttocks cannot be so hard, out with't quicklie.
2.
Here tis Sir, a small piece of Artillerie, that a gentleman a deare friend of your Lordships sent me with to get it mended Sir; for it you marke, the nose is somewhat loose.
Bac.
A friend of mine you rascall, I was never wearier of doing nothing, then kicking these two foote-bals.
Ser.
Heres a good cudgell Sir.
Bac.
It comes too late; I am wearie, prethee doe thou beate um.
2.
My Lord this is foule play ifaith, to put a fresh man upon us; Men, are but men.
Bac.
That jest shall save your bones, up with your rotten regiment, and be gone; I had rather thresh, then be bound to kicke these raskals, till they cride hold: Bessus you may put your hand to them now, and then you are quit. Farewell, as you like this, pray visit mee againe, twill keepe me in good breath.
2.
Has a divellish hard foote, I never felt the like.
1.
Nor I, and yet Ime sure I ha felt a hundred.
2.
If he kicke thus ith dog-daies, he will be drie founderd: what cure now Captaine, besides oyle of bayes?
Bess.
Why well enough I warrant you, you can goe.
2.
Yes, God be thanked; but I feele a shrewd ach, sure he has sprang my huckle bone.
1.
I ha lost a haunch.
Bess.
A little butter friend, a little butter; butter and parselie is a soveraigne matter: probatum est.
1.
Captaine, we must request your hands now to our honours.
Bess.
Yes marrie shall ye, and then let all the world come, we are valiant to our selves, and theres an end.
1.
Nay, then we must be valiant; O my ribbes.
2.
O my small guts, a plague upon these
Lig.
Madam I should have scene you.
Spa.
O good Sir forgive me.
Lig.
Forgive you, why I am no kin to you, am I?
Spa.
Should it be measur'd by my meane deserts, Indeed you are not.
Lig.
Thou couldst prate unhappily Ere thou couldst goe, would thou couldst doe as well. And how does your custome hold out here. Spa. Sir.
Lig.
Are you in private still, or how?
Spa.
What doe you meane?
Lig.
Doe you take money? are you come to sell sinne yet? perhaps I can helpe you to liberall Clients: or has not the King cast you off yet? O thou wild creature, whose best commendation is, that thou art a young Whore. I would thy Mother had liv'd to see this: or rather would I had dyed ere I had seene it: why did'st not make me acquainted when thou wert first resolv'd to be a Whore? I would have seene thy hot lust satisfied more privately. I would have kept a dancer, and a whole consort of Musitions in mine owne house, onely to fiddle thee. Spa. Sir I was never whore.
Lig.
If thou couldst not say so much for thy selfe thou shouldst be Carted.
Tig.
Ligones I have read it, and like it, You shall deliver it.
Lig.
Well Sir I will: but I have private busines with you.
Tig.
Speake, what ist?
Lig.
How has my age deserv'd so ill of you, That you can picke no strumpets in the Land, But out of my breed.
Tig.
Strumpets good Ligones?
Lig.
Yes, and I wish to have you know, I scorne To get a Whore for any Prince alive, And yet scorne will not helpe me thinkes: My daughter Might have beene spar'd, there were enough beside.
Tig.
May I not prosper, but Shee's innocent As morning light for me, and I dare sweare For all the world.
Lig.
Why is she with you then? Can she waite on you better then your men, Has she a gift in plucking off your stockings, Can she make Cawdles well, or cut your Comes, Why doe you keepe her with you? For your Queene I know you doe contemne her, so should I And every Subject else thinke much at it.
Tig.
Let um thinke much, but tis more firme then earth Thou seest thy Queene there.
Lig.
Then have I made a faire hand, I cald her Whore, If I shall speake now as her Father, I cannot chuse But greatly rejoyce that she shall be a Queene: but if I should speake to you as a Statesman shee were more fit To be your Whore.
Tig.
Get you about your businesse to Arbaces, Now you talke idlie.
Lig.
Yes Sir, I will goe. And shall she be a Queene, she had more wit Then her old Father when she ranne away: Shall shee be a Queene, now by my troth tis fine, Ile dance out of all measure at her wedding: Shall I not Sir?
Tigr.
Yes marrie shalt thou.
Lig.
He make these witherd Kexes beare my bodie Two houres together above ground.
Tigr.
Nay, goe, my businesse requires haste.
Lig.
Good God preserve you, you are an excellent King.
Spa.
Farewell good Father.
Lig.
Farewell sweete vertuous Daughter; I never was so joyfull in my life, That I remember: shall shee be a Queene? Now I perceive a man may weepe for joy, I had thought they had lied that said so.
Exit.
Tig.
Come my deare love.
Spa.
But you may see another May alter that againe.
Tigr.
Urge it no more; I have made up a new strong constancie, Not to be shooke with eyes; I know I have The passions of a man, but if I meete With any subject that shall hold my eyes More firmely then is fit; Ile thinke of thee, and runne away from it: let that suffice.
Exeunt.
Enter Bacurius, and a servant.
Bac.
Three gentlemen without to speake with me?
Ser.
Yes Sir.
Bac.
Let them come in.
Ser.
They are enterd Sir already.
Enter Bessus, and Swordmen.
Bac.
Now fellowes, your busines, are these the Gentlemen.
Bess.
My Lord I have made bold to bring these Gentlemen my Friends ath' sword along with me.
Bac.
I am afraid youle fight then.
Bes.
My good Lord I will not, your Lordship is mistaken, Feare not Lord.
Bac.
Sir I am sorrie fort.
Bes.
I can aske no more in honor, Gentlemen you heare my Lord is sorrie.
Bac.
Not that I have beaten you, but beaten one that will be beaten: one whose dull bodie will require launcing: As surfeits doe the diet, spring and full. Now to your swordmen, what come they for good Captaine Stock-fish?
Bes.
It seemes your Lordship has forgot my name.
Bac.
No, nor your nature neither, though they are things fitter I confesse for anything, then my remembrance, or anie honestmans, what shall these billets doe, be pilde up in my Wood-yard?
Bes.
Your Lordship holds your mirth still, God continue it: but for these Gentlemen they come.
Bac.
To sweare you are a Coward, spare your Booke, I doe beleeve it.
Bes.
Your Lordship still drawes wide, they come to vouch under their valiant hands, I am no Coward.
Bac.
That would be a shew indeed worth seeing: sirra be wise and take money for this motion, travell with it, and where the name of Bessus has been knowne, or a good Coward stirring, twill yeeld more then a tilting. This will prove more beneficiall to you, if you be thriftie, then your Captaineship, and more naturall; Men of most valiant hands is this true?
2.
It is so most renowned, Tis somewhat strange.
1.
Lord, it is strange, yet true; wee have examined from your Lordships foote there to this mans head, the nature of the beatings; and we doe find his honour is come off cleane, and sufficient: This as our swords shall helpe us.
Bac.
You are much bound to you bilbow-men, I am glad you are straight again Captaine: twere good you would thinke some way to gratifie them, they have undergone a labour for you Bessus, would have puzzled hercules, with all his valour.
2.
Your Lordship must understand we are no men ath' Law, that take pay for our opinions: it is sufficient wee have cleer'd our friend.
Bac.
Yet here is something due, which I as toucht in conscience will discharge Captaine; Ile pay this rent for you.
Bess.
Spare your selfe my good Lord; my brave friends aime at nothing but the vertue.
Bac.
Thats but a cold discharge Sir for their paines.
2.
O Lord, my good Lord.
Bac.
Be not so modest, I will give you something.
Bes.
They shall dine with your Lordship, that's sufficient.
Bac.
Something in hand the while; ye rogues, ye apple-squiers: doe you come hether with your botled valour, your windie frothe, to limit out my beatings.
1.
I doe beseech your Lordship.
2.
O good Lord.
Bac.
Sfoote, what a many of beaten slaves are here? get me a cudgell sirra, and a tough one.
2.
More of your foot, I doe beseech your Lordship.
Bac.
You shall, you shall dog, and your fellow beagle.
1.
A this side good my Lord.
Bac.
Off with your swords, for if you hurt my foote, Ile have you fleade you rascals.
1.
Mines off my Lord.
2.
I beseech your Lordship stay a little, my strap's tied to my codpiece point: Now when you please.
Bac.
Captaine, these are your valiant friends, you long for a little too?
Bess.
I am verie well, I humblie thanke your Lordship.
Bac.
Whats that in your pocket slave, my key you mungrell? thy buttocks cannot be so hard, out with't quicklie.
2.
Here tis Sir, a small piece of Artillerie, that a gentleman a deare friend of your Lordships sent me with to get it mended Sir; for it you marke, the nose is somewhat loose.
Bac.
A friend of mine you rascall, I was never wearier of doing nothing, then kicking these two foote-bals.
Ser.
Heres a good cudgell Sir.
Bac.
It comes too late; I am wearie, prethee doe thou beate um.
2.
My Lord this is foule play ifaith, to put a fresh man upon us; Men, are but men.
Bac.
That jest shall save your bones, up with your rotten regiment, and be gone; I had rather thresh, then be bound to kicke these raskals, till they cride hold: Bessus you may put your hand to them now, and then you are quit. Farewell, as you like this, pray visit mee againe, twill keepe me in good breath.
2.
Has a divellish hard foote, I never felt the like.
1.
Nor I, and yet Ime sure I ha felt a hundred.
2.
If he kicke thus ith dog-daies, he will be drie founderd: what cure now Captaine, besides oyle of bayes?
Bess.
Why well enough I warrant you, you can goe.
2.
Yes, God be thanked; but I feele a shrewd ach, sure he has sprang my huckle bone.
1.
I ha lost a haunch.
Bess.
A little butter friend, a little butter; butter and parselie is a soveraigne matter: probatum est.
1.
Captaine, we must request your hands now to our honours.
Bess.
Yes marrie shall ye, and then let all the world come, we are valiant to our selves, and theres an end.
1.
Nay, then we must be valiant; O my ribbes.
2.
O my small guts, a plague upon these
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