Act 4 — [Scene II.][3239]
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[Scene II.][3239]
Enter two Woodmen.
1 Wood. What, have you lodged the deer?
2 Wood. Yes, they are ready for the bow.
1 Wood. Who shoots?
2 Wood. The princess.
1 Wood. No, she ’ll hunt.
2 Wood. She ’ll take a stand, I say.
1 Wood. Who else?
2 Wood. Why, the young stranger-prince.
1 Wood. He shall shoot in a stone-bow[3240] for me. I never lov’d his beyond-sea-ship since10 he forsook the say,[3241] for paying ten shillings. He was there at the fall of a deer, and would needs (out of his mightiness) give ten groats for the dowcets; marry, his steward would have the velvet-head[3242] into the bargain, to15 turf[3243] his hat withal. I think he should love venery; he is an old Sir Tristrem; for, if you be rememb’red, he forsook the stag once to strike a rascal[3244] miching[3245] in a meadow, and her he kill’d in the eye. Who shoots else?20
2 Wood. The Lady Galatea.
1 Wood. That ’s a good wench, an she would not chide us for tumbling of her women in the brakes. She ’s liberal, and by the Gods, they say she ’s honest, and whether that be a25 fault, I have nothing to do. There ’s all?
2 Wood. No, one more; Megra.
1 Wood. That ’s a firker,[3246] i’ faith, boy. There ’s a wench will ride her haunches as hard after a kennel of hounds as a hunting30 saddle, and when she comes home, get ’em clapt, and all is well again. I have known her lose herself three times in one afternoon (if the woods have been answerable),[3247] and it has been work enough for one man to find her, and35 he has sweat for it. She rides well and she pays well. Hark! let’s go.
Exeunt.
Enter Philaster.
Phi. Oh, that I had been nourish’d in these woods With milk of goats and acorns, and not known The right of crowns nor the dissembling trains Of women’s looks; but digg’d myself a cave41 Where I, my fire, my cattle, and my bed, Might have been shut together in one shed; And then had taken me some mountain-girl, Beaten with winds, chaste as the hard’ned rocks45 Whereon she dwelt, that might have strewed my bed With leaves and reeds, and with the skins of beasts, Our neighbours, and have borne at her big breasts My large coarse issue! This had been a life Free from vexation.
Enter Bellario.
Bel. Oh, wicked men!50 An innocent may walk safe among beasts; Nothing assaults me here. See, my griev’d lord Sits as his soul were searching out a way To leave his body!—Pardon me, that must Break thy last commandment; for I must speak.55 You that are griev’d can pity; hear, my lord! Phi. Is there a creature yet so miserable, That I can pity? Bel. Oh, my noble lord, View my strange fortune, and bestow on me, According to your bounty (if my service60 Can merit nothing), so much as may serve To keep that little piece I hold of life From cold and hunger! Phi. Is it thou? Be gone! Go, sell those misbeseeming clothes thou wear’st, And feed thyself with them.65 Bel. Alas, my lord, I can get nothing for them! The silly country-people think ’t is treason To touch such gay things. Phi. Now, by the gods, this is Unkindly done, to vex me with thy sight. Thou ’rt fallen again to thy dissembling trade; How shouldest thou think to cozen me again?71 Remains there yet a plague untried for me? Even so thou wept’st, and lookt’st, and spok’st when first I took thee up. Curse on the time! If thy commanding tears75 Can work on any other, use thy art; I ’ll not betray it. Which way wilt thou take, That I may shun thee, for thine eyes are poison To mine, and I am loth to grow in rage? This way, or that way?80 Bel. Any will serve; but I will choose to have That path in chase that leads unto my grave. Exeunt severally.
Enter [on one side] Dion, and [on the other] the two Woodmen.
Dion. This is the strangest sudden chance!—You, woodmen! 1 Wood. My lord Dion? Dion. Saw you a lady come this way on a sable horse studded with stars of white?85 1 Wood. Was she not young and tall? Dion. Yes. Rode she to the wood or to the plain? 2 Wood. Faith, my lord, we saw none. Exeunt Woodmen. Dion. Pox of your questions then! Enter Cleremont. What, is she found? Cle. Nor will be, I think.90
Dion. Let him seek his daughter himself. She cannot stray about a little necessary natural business, but the whole court must be in arms. When she has done, we shall have peace.
Cle. There’s already a thousand fatherless 95 tales amongst us. Some say, her horse ran away with her; some, a wolf pursued her; others, ’t was a plot to kill her, and that arm’d men were seen in the wood: but questionless she rode away willingly. 100
Enter King and Thrasiline.
King. Where is she? Cle. Sir, I cannot tell. King. How’s that? Answer me so again! Cle. Sir, shall I lie? King. Yes, lie and damn, rather than tell me that, I say again, where is she? Mutter not!— Sir, speak you; where is she? Dion. Sir, I do not know.105 King. Speak that again so boldly, and, by Heaven, It is thy last!—You, fellows, answer me; Where is she? Mark me, all; I am your king: I wish to see my daughter; show her me; I do command you all, as you are subjects,110 To show her me! What! am I not your king? If ay, then am I not to be obeyed? Dion. Yes, if you command things possible and honest. King. Things possible and honest! Hear me, thou,— Thou traitor, that dar’st confine thy King to things115 Possible and honest! Show her me, Or, let me perish, if I cover not All Sicily with blood! Dion. Faith, I cannot, Unless you tell me where she is. King. You have betray’d me; you have let me lose120 The jewel of my life. Go, bring her to me, And set her here before me. ’Tis the king Will have it so; whose breath can still the winds, Uncloud the sun, charm down the swelling sea, And stop the floods of heaven. Speak, can it not?125 Dion. No. King. No! cannot the breath of kings do this? Dion. No; nor smell sweet itself, if once the lungs Be but corrupted. King. Is it so? Take heed! Dion. Sir, take you heed how you dare the powers That must be just. King. Alas! what are we kings!130 Why do you gods place us above the rest, To be serv’d, flatter’d, and ador’d, till we Believe we hold within our hands your thunder? And when we come to try the power we have, There’s not a leaf shakes at our threat’nings. I have sinn’d, ’tis true, and here stand to be punish’d;136 Yet would not thus be punish’d. Let me choose My way, and lay it on!
Dion. [Aside.] He articles with the gods. Would somebody would draw bonds for the performance of covenants betwixt them! 141
Enter Pharamond, Galatea, and Megra.
King. What, is she found? Pha. No; we have ta’en her horse; He gallopt empty by. There is some treason. You, Galatea, rode with her into the wood; Why left you her? Gal. She did command me.145 King. Command! you should not. Gal. ’Twould ill become my fortunes and my birth To disobey the daughter of my king. King. You ’re all cunning to obey us for our hurt; But I will have her. Pha. If I have her not,150 By this hand, there shall be no more Sicily. Dion. [Aside.] What, will he carry it to Spain in ’s pocket? Pha. I will not leave one man alive, but the king, A cook, and a tailor.154
Dion. [Aside.] Yes; you may do well to spare your lady-bedfellow; and her you may keep for a spawner.
King. [Aside.] I see the injuries I have done must be reveng’d. Dion. Sir, this is not the way to find her out. King. Run all, disperse yourselves. The man that finds her,160 Or (if she be kill’d) the traitor, I’ll make him great. Dion. I know some would give five thousand pounds to find her. Pha. Come, let us seek. King. Each man a several way; here I myself.
Dion. Come, gentlemen, we here. 165
Cle. Lady, you must go search too.
Meg. I had rather be search’d myself.
Exeunt [severally].