Act 5 — [Scene V.][3308]

King. Is it appeas’d? Dion. Sir, all is quiet as this dead of night, As peaceable as sleep. My lord Philaster Brings on the prince himself. King. Kind gentleman! I will not break the least word I have given5 In promise to him. I have heap’d a world Of grief upon his head, which yet I hope To wash away.

Cle. My lord is come. King. My son! Blest be the time that I have leave to call Such virtue mine! Now thou art in mine arms, Methinks I have a salve unto my breast11 For all the stings that dwell there. Streams of grief That I have wrong’d thee, and as much of joy That I repent it, issue from mine eyes; Let them appease thee. Take thy right; take her;15 She is thy right too; and forget to urge My vexed soul with that I did before. Phi. Sir, it is blotted from my memory, Past and forgotten.—For you, prince of Spain, Whom I have thus redeem’d, you have full leave20 To make an honourable voyage home. And if you would go furnish’d to your realm With fair provision, I do see a lady, Methinks, would gladly bear you company. How like you this piece? Meg. Sir, he likes it well,25 For he hath tried it, and hath found it worth His princely liking. We were ta’en abed; I know your meaning. I am not the first That nature taught to seek a fellow forth; Can shame remain perpetually in me,30 And not in others? Or have princes salves To cure ill names, that meaner people want? Phi. What mean you? Meg. You must get another ship, To bear the princess and her boy together. Dion. How now!35 Meg. Others took me, and I took her and him At that all women may be ta’en sometime. Ship us all four, my lord; we can endure Weather and wind alike. King. Clear thou thyself, or know not me for father.40 Are. This earth, how false it is! What means is left for me To clear myself? It lies in your belief. My lords, believe me; and let all things else Struggle together to dishonour me. Bel. Oh, stop your ears, great King, that I may speak45 As freedom would! Then I will call this lady As base as are her actions. Hear me, sir; Believe your heated blood when it rebels Against your reason, sooner than this lady. Meg. By this good light, he bears it handsomely.50 Phi. This lady! I will sooner trust the wind With feathers, or the troubled sea with pearl, Than her with any thing. Believe her not. Why, think you, if I did believe her words, I would outlive ’em? Honour cannot take55 Revenge on you; then what were to be known But death? King. Forget her, sir, since all is knit Between us. But I must request of you One favour, and will sadly[3309] be denied. Phi. Command, whate’er it be. King. Swear to be true60 To what you promise. Phi. By the powers above, Let it not be the death of her or him, And it is granted! King. Bear away that boy To torture; I will have her clear’d or buried. Phi. Oh, let me call my word back, worthy sir! Ask something else: bury my life and right66 In one poor grave; but do not take away My life and fame at once. King. Away with him! It stands irrevocable. Phi. Turn all your eyes on me. Here stands a man,70 The falsest and the basest of this world. Set swords against this breast, some honest man, For I have liv’d till I am pitied! My former deeds were hateful; but this last Is pitiful, for I unwillingly75 Have given the dear preserver of my life Unto his torture. Is it in the power Of flesh and blood to carry this, and live? Offers to stab himself. Are. Dear sir, be patient yet! Oh, stay that hand! King. Sirs, strip that boy. Dion. Come, sir; your tender flesh80 Will try your constancy. Bel. Oh, kill me, gentlemen! Dion. No.—Help, sirs. Bel. Will you torture me? King. Haste there; Why stay you? Bel. Then I shall not break my vow, You know, just gods, though I discover all. King. How’s that? Will he confess? Dion. Sir, so he says.85 King. Speak then. Bel. Great King, if you command This lord to talk with me alone, my tongue Urg’d by my heart, shall utter all the thoughts My youth hath known; and stranger things than these You hear not often. King. Walk aside with him.90 [Dion and Bellario walk apart.] Dion. Why speak’st thou not? Bel. Know you this face, my lord? Dion. No. Bel. Have you not seen it, nor the like? Dion. Yes, I have seen the like, but readily I know not where. Bel. I have been often told In court of one Euphrasia, a lady,95 And daughter to you; betwixt whom and me They that would flatter my bad face would swear There was such strange resemblance, that we two Could not be known asunder, drest alike. Dion. By Heaven, and so there is! Bel. For her fair sake,100 Who now doth spend the spring-time of her life In holy pilgrimage, move to the King, That I may scape this torture. Dion. But thou speak’st As like Euphrasia as thou dost look. How came it to thy knowledge that she lives105 In pilgrimage? Bel. I know it not, my lord; But I have heard it, and do scarce believe it. Dion. Oh, my shame! is it possible? Draw near, That I may gaze upon thee. Art thou she, Or else her murderer?[3310] Where wert thou born?110 Bel. In Syracusa. Dion. What’s thy name? Bel. Euphrasia. Dion. Oh, ’t is just, ’t is she! Now I do know thee. Oh, that thou hadst died, And I had never seen thee nor my shame! How shall I own thee? Shall this tongue of mine115 E’er call thee daughter more? Bel. Would I had died indeed! I wish it too; And so I must have done by vow, ere publish’d What I have told, but that there was no means To hide it longer. Yet I joy in this,120 The princess is all clear. King. What, have you done? Dion. All is discovered. Phi. Why then hold you me? All is discovered! Pray you, let me go. Offers to stab himself. King. Stay him. Are. What is discovered? Dion. Why, my shame. It is a woman; let her speak the rest.125 Phi. How? That again! Dion. It is a woman. Phi. Blest be you powers that favour innocence! King. Lay hold upon that lady. [Megra is seized.] Phi. It is a woman, sir!—Hark, gentlemen, It is a woman!—Arethusa, take130 My soul into thy breast, that would be gone With joy. It is a woman! Thou art fair, And virtuous still to ages, in despite Of malice. King. Speak you, where lies his shame? Bel. I am his daughter.135 Phi. The gods are just. Dion. I dare accuse none; but, before you two, The virtue of our age, I bend my knee For mercy. [Kneels.] Phi. [raising him.] Take it freely; for I know, Though what thou didst were undiscreetly done,140 ’T was meant well. Are. And for me, I have a power to pardon sins, as oft As any man has power to wrong me. Cle. Noble and worthy! Phi. But, Bellario, (For I must call thee still so,) tell me why145 Thou didst conceal thy sex. It was a fault, A fault, Bellario, though thy other deeds Of truth outweigh’d it: all these jealousies Had flown to nothing if thou hadst discovered What now we know. Bel. My father oft would speak150 Your worth and virtue; and, as I did grow More and more apprehensive,[3311] I did thirst To see the man so prais’d. But yet all this Was but a maiden-longing, to be lost As soon as found; till, sitting in my window,155 Printing my thoughts in lawn, I saw a god, I thought, (but it was you,) enter our gates. My blood flew out and back again, as fast As I had puft it forth and suckt it in159 Like breath. Then was I call’d away in haste To entertain you. Never was a man, Heav’d from a sheep-cote to a sceptre, rais’d So high in thoughts as I. You left a kiss Upon these lips then, which I mean to keep From you for ever. I did hear you talk,165 Far above singing. After you were gone, I grew acquainted with my heart, and search’d What stirr’d it so: alas, I found it love! Yet far from lust; for, could I but have liv’d In presence of you, I had had my end.170 For this I did delude my noble father With a feign’d pilgrimage, and drest myself In habit of a boy; and, for I knew My birth no match for you, I was past hope Of having you; and, understanding well175 That when I made discovery of my sex I could not stay with you, I made a vow, By all the most religious things a maid Could call together, never to be known, Whilst there was hope to hide me from men’s eyes,180 For other than I seem’d, that I might ever Abide with you. Then sat I by the fount, Where first you took me up. King. Search out a match Within our kingdom, where and when thou wilt, And I will pay thy dowry; and thyself185 Wilt well deserve him. Bel. Never, sir, will I Marry; it is a thing within my vow: But, if I may have leave to serve the princess, To see the virtues of her lord and her, I shall have hope to live. Are. I, Philaster,190 Cannot be jealous, though you had a lady Drest like a page to serve you; nor will I Suspect her living here.—Come, live with me; Live free as I do. She that loves my lord, Curst be the wife that hates her!195 Phi. I grieve such virtue should be laid in earth Without an heir.—Hear me, my royal father: Wrong not the freedom of our souls so much, To think to take revenge of that base woman; Her malice cannot hurt us. Set her free200 As she was born, saving from shame and sin. King. Set her at liberty.—But leave the court; This is no place for such.—You, Pharamond, Shall have free passage, and a conduct home Worthy so great a prince. When you come there,205 Remember ’t was your faults that lost you her, And not my purpos’d will. Pha. I do confess, Renowned sir. King. Last, join your hands in one. Enjoy, Philaster, This kingdom, which is yours, and, after me,210 Whatever I call mine. My blessing on you! All happy hours be at your marriage-joys, That you may grow yourselves, over all lands, And live to see your plenteous branches spring Wherever there is sun! Let princes learn215 By this to rule the passions of their blood; For what Heaven wills can never be withstood. Exeunt omnes.