Act 4 — Scene I.[4196]

Ith. Forbear your inquisition: curiosity Is of too subtle and too searching nature, In fears of love too quick, too slow of credit.— I am not what you doubt me. Arm. Nephew, be, then, As I would wish;—all is not right.—Good heaven5 Confirm your resolutions for dependence On worthy ends, which may advance your quiet! Ith. I did the noble Orgilus much injury, But griev’d Penthea more: I now repent it,— Now, uncle, now; this “now” is now too late. So provident is folly in sad issue,11 That after-wit, like bankrupts’ debts, stands tallied, Without all possibilities of payment. Sure, he’s an honest, very honest gentleman; A man of single[4197] meaning. Arm. I believe it:15 Yet, nephew, ’tis the tongue informs our ears; Our eyes can never pierce into the thoughts, For they are lodg’d too inward:—but I question No truth in Orgilus.—The princess, sir. Ith. The princess! ha! Arm. With her the Prince of Argos.20

Near. Great fair one, grace my hopes with any instance Of livery,[4198] from the allowance of your favour; This little spark— [Attempts to take a ring from her finger.] Cal. A toy! Near. Love feasts on toys, For Cupid is a child;—vouchsafe this bounty: It cannot be deni’d. Cal. You shall not value,25 Sweet cousin, at a price, what I count cheap; So cheap, that let him take it who dares stoop for ’t, And give it at next meeting to a mistress: She’ll thank him for ’t, perhaps. Casts the ring to Ithocles. Ame. The ring, sir, is The princess’s; I could have took it up.30 Ith. Learn manners, prithee.—To the blessed owner, Upon my knees— Kneels and offers it to Calantha. Near. Y’ are saucy. Cal. This is pretty! I am, belike, “a mistress”—wondrous pretty! Let the man keep his fortune, since he found it; He’s worthy on ’t.—On, cousin! Ith. [to Amelus.] Follow, spaniel;35 I’ll force ye to a fawning else. Ame. You dare not. Exeunt. Manent Ith. and Arm. Arm. My lord, you were too forward. Ith. Look ye, uncle, Some such there are whose liberal contents Swarm without care in every sort of plenty; Who after full repasts can lay them down40 To sleep; and they sleep, uncle: in which silence Their very dreams present ’em choice of pleasures, Pleasures—observe me, uncle—of rare object; Here heaps of gold, there increments of honours, Now change of garments, then the votes of people;45 Anon varieties of beauties, courting, In flatteries of the night, exchange of dalliance: Yet these are still but dreams. Give me felicity Of which my senses waking are partakers, A real, visible, material happiness;50 And then, too, when I stagger in expectance Of the least comfort that can cherish life.—— I saw it, sir, I saw it; for it came From her own hand. Arm. The princess threw it t’ ye. Ith. True; and she said—well I remember what—55 Her cousin prince would beg it. Arm. Yes, and parted In anger at your taking on ’t. Ith. Panthea, O, thou hast pleaded with a powerful language! I want a fee to gratify thy merit; But I will do— Arm. What is ’t you say? Ith. In anger!60 In anger let him part; for could his breath, Like whirlwinds, toss such servile slaves as lick The dust his footsteps print into a vapour, It durst not stir a hair of mine, it should not; I’d rend it up by th’ roots first. To be anything65 Calantha smiles on, is to be a blessing More sacred than a petty prince of Argos Can wish to equal, or in worth or title. Arm. Contain yourself, my lord: Ixion, aiming To embrace Juno, bosom’d but a cloud,70 And begat Centaurs; ’t is an useful moral. Ambition hatch’d in clouds of mere opinion Proves but in birth a prodigy. Ith. I thank ye; Yet, with your licence, I should seem uncharitable To gentler fate, if, relishing the dainties75 Of a soul’s settled peace, I were so feeble Not to digest it. Arm. He deserves small trust Who is not privy-counsellor to himself.

Near. Brave me! Org. Your excellence mistakes his temper; For Ithocles in fashion of his mind80 Is beautiful, soft, gentle, the clear mirror Of absolute perfection. Ame. Was ’t your modesty Term’d any of the prince’s servants “spaniel”? Your nurse, sure, taught you other language. Ith. Language! Near. A gallant man-at-arms is here, a doctor85 In feats of chivalry, blunt and rough-spoken, Vouchsafing not the fustian of civility, Which [less][4199] rash spirits style good manners! Ith. Manners! Org. No more, illustrious sir; ’tis matchless Ithocles. Near. You might have understood who I am. Ith. Yes.90 I did; else—but the presence calm’d th’ affront— Y’ are cousin to the princess. Near. To the king, too; A certain instrument that lent supportance To your colossic greatness—to that king too, You might have added. Ith. There is more divinity In beauty than in majesty.96 Arm. O fie, fie! Near. This odd youth’s pride turns heretic in loyalty. Sirrah! low mushrooms never rival cedars. Exeunt Nearchus and Amelus. Ith. Come back!—What pitiful dull thing am I So to be tamely scolded at! come back!—100 Let him come back, and echo once again That scornful sound of mushroom! painted colts— Like heralds’ coats gilt o’er with crowns and sceptres— May bait a muzzled lion. Arm. Cousin, cousin, Thy tongue is not thy friend. Org. In point of honour105 Discretion knows no bounds. Amelus told me ’T was all about a little ring. Ith. A ring The princess threw away, and I took up. Admit she threw ’t to me, what arm of brass Can snatch it hence? No; could he grind the hoop110 To powder, ’a might sooner reach my heart Than steal and wear one dust on ’t.—Orgilus, I am extremely wrong’d. Org. A lady’s favour Is not to be so slighted. Ith. Slighted! Arm. Quiet These vain unruly passions, which will render ye115 Into a madness. Org. Griefs will have their vent.

Arm. Welcome; thou com’st in season, reverend man, To pour the balsam of a suppling[4200] patience Into the festering wound of ill-spent fury. Org. [Aside.] What makes he here? Tec. The hurts are yet but[4201] mortal,120 Which shortly will prove deadly. To the king, Armostes, see in safety thou deliver This seal’d-up counsel; bid him with a constancy Peruse the secrets of the gods.—O Sparta, O Lacedaemon! double-nam’d, but one125 In fate: when kingdoms reel,—mark well my saw,— Their heads must needs be giddy. Tell the king That henceforth he no more must inquire after My aged head; Apollo wills it so: I am for Delphos. Arm. Not without some conference130 With our great master? Tec. Never more to see him: A greater prince commands me.—Ithocles, When youth is ripe, and age from time doth part, The lifeless trunk shall wed the broken heart. Ith. What ’s this, if understood? Tec. List, Orgilus;135 Remember what I told thee long before, These tears shall be my witness. Arm. ’Las, good man! Tec. Let craft with courtesy a while confer, Revenge proves its own executioner. Org. Dark sentences are for Apollo’s priests; I am not Oedipus. Tec. My hour is come;141 Cheer up the king; farewell to all.—O Sparta, O Lacedaemon! Exit. Arm. If prophetic fire Have warm’d this old man’s bosom, we might construe His words to fatal sense. Ith. Leave to the powers145 Above us the effects of their decrees; My burthen lies within me: servile fears Prevent no great effects.—Divine Calantha! Arm. The gods be still propitious! Exeunt Ithocles and Armostes. Org. Something oddly The book-man prated, yet ’a talk’d it weeping; Let craft with courtesy a while confer,151 Revenge proves its own executioner. Con it again;—for what? It shall not puzzle me; ’T is dotage of a withered brain.—Penthea Forbade me not her presence; I may see her, And gaze my fill. Why see her, then, I may,156 When, if I faint to speak—I must be silent. Exit.