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LYC. Nowe, brother, has not sea and wind done well? 495
Have we not fl0wne to Corinth?
CYP. Done well, say you?
Ile never goe to sea and winde againe.
Oh I was monstrous sicke.
LYC. But nowe y’are well.
CYP. I knowe not. Am I, think you? But ’tis no matter.
My f ther he has good physitians 500
And they shall make me well. Shall we make hast?
LYC. Go to, mad crafty brother. Now you have heard
Our mother’s dead, you thinke our father too
Will shortly dy, and then you must have all.
CYP. Must I? And what must you have then?
LYC. I knowe not. 505
All at your mercy.
CYP. Faith, Ile use you kindly.
LYC. Or I must to my grandfather againe
For one of his old blessings.
CYP. I protest
Ile love you beyond measure. You shalbe
My chiefest counsayler, and as w’have plaide 510
At every thing togeather, so wee’l both
Be kings together.
LYC. Would every eldest brother
Would say so to.
CYP. Nay they will say so to
But not at all be as I meane to be.
LYC. And God forbid they should, thoughe many be. 515
All Greece knowes we are Perianders sonnes,
A wise and potent kings two happy sonnes,
And you are eldest.
CYP. Faith all’s one to me.
Let me be merry, eat and drinke and sleepe,
I care not whose sonne nor whose eldest brother, 520
Yet I wilbe his sonne your eldest brother.
LYC. Turne and returne. Could any but a kinge
And Periander get so free a spirit?
CYP. Come come, I longe to see my father, I.
LYC. Doe you knowe him if you see him?
CYP. I shall guesse. 525
LYC. So we have got the hill. Our horses, boyes.
Our hobby horses, boyes. To Corinth come.
ACTUS II, SCENA ij
LYSIMACHUS cum aliis
LYS. Y’are well encountered, noble princes both.
I have an old remembrance of this person.
LYC. You are of Corinth and a courtier, sir. 530
LYS. Lysimachus, from Periander sent
To meete his heard-of home returning sonnes.
To both I heer present his princely welcome.
Of both your lineaments (only extended
By natures bounty) these fewe-many years 535
Have not yet dispossest my memory.
CYP. We thanke you, sir. Do you knowe which is which?
Know you who’s eldest, and most like his father?
LYS. Cypselus by his marke uppon his temples,
And Lycophron resembles him a little. 540
CYP. But I am likest.
Ingediuntur Philarches, Euetaerus, Symphilus.
LYC. Who are these, my lord,
So hot with hast?
LYS. Sonnes of three counsailers
And three companions whom the court hopes well of,
Philarches, Euetaerus, Symphilus.
LYC. We once all five were little plaifellowes. 545
Kind gentlemen, I’m glad we live together.
My good Philarches.
LYS. Will you please to horse?
LYC. We are almost straungers on this country, sir.
LYS. We shall. Lead on, sir, company growes on.
Ere we shall enter Corinth walles thei’l throng 550
To sight of their young princes.
ACTUS II, SCENA iij
CIVES II togati, nitiduli
CIV. 1 God save prince Cypselus, prince Lycophron.
God save them both.
LYC. Thanks to our countrymen.
Exeunt omnes, manent cives.
CIV. 1 This is the usuall benefit of absence
Of tyraunts heires. Their dispositions 555
Being yet unknowne, first presence winds them love
Which falls and rises with their after meritts.
CIV. 2 If but a little better hop’t of then the sire,
They have the generall welcome and good wishes
Else partial, factious. If it must excell 560
The burdensome satiety of the present,
Their hearts are ready to make way for change.
CIV. 1 Sure there are countryes where their kings are good,
Loving, belov’d, just, peaceful, wise and stronge,
Where by-loves do not staine the royal pair, 565
CIV. 2 Where faire Mellisas are not spurn’d downe staires
Being big with child, nor wher the mother queene
Unnaturally loves her naturall sonne,
And many things that reverent silence hides.
But we are sure that state is far from Corinth. 570
CIV. 1 We are to bold, thoughe Periander be
An heavy tyraunt, drinking the dear blood
Of hyest peeres and numbers of poor commons,
Yet our poor harts must be these murders graves,
Our toungs neere ring the knel. Close requiem 575
We may allowe, but without sound or light,
While more and more dear lives are filtcht away.
CIV. 2 ’Tis well we talke thus in the open aire.
And yet sometimes I am almost perswaded
The verie aire is sensible animate 580
And each kings secret true intelligencer,
Such strang abstruse center-deep secrecies
Find passage to their knowledge.
CIV. 1’Tis even true.
I have knowne discourse among th’ Antipodes
Far brought with th’ wind to them it neere concern’d 585
And punnish heer.
CIV. 2 Then let our toungs give over
And followe on to give our silent eyes
Their glad employment at the cittie gates.
Fooles chat the privates of superior states. (Exeunt.)
ACTUS II, SCENA iiij
PERIANDER, LYCOPHRON, CYPSELUS, LYSIMACHUS, ARISTAEUS, PHILARCHES, EUTAERUS, SYMPHILUS &c.
PER. Of this day as your birth day, glad and proud, 590
We give you welcome, having often heard
Of Procles your old princely grandfather,
Howe well he tutord yea, and what scenes
Of noble rancke in the Epidaurian courte
Yea have had bettering by.
CYP. I truly, father, 595
There are both noblemen and gentlemen
Of excellent fashion there and gallant spirit.
But churles ther’s none of them would come with us
But these two kind and learned gentlemen,
One a ritch citizens sonne, tother a knights, 600
Created the past progresse.
PHIL. Created then
To his first being.
PER. Howe nowe, Lycophron.
You are growne a passing rider, I heare say,
And mould your selfe to be a martialist,
Which holds great parte of Periander’s love. 605
Periander expectat ut Lycophron resalutet, sed tacet.
Why howe nowe, man? What passion clouds that browe?
Who knowes of any wrong to Lycophron?
His millenary family shall rue it.
Speake them thy selfe, heere are thy peeres and justice.
What? Silent still?
LYS. ’Tis straunge.
PER. Who understands it? 610
Is it a gladness passion? Is’t disease?
CYP. Father, I’le hold my life
He had studyed some set speech to put me downe
With his fine eloquence, and nowe hast lost it
And himselfe too.
PHIL. Wel bob’d, apparant foole. 615
If he should search your braines to find it out
Hee’d lose his labour.
PER. Heed me, Lycophron,
If thou have sense and filial respect,
By Perianders love, his wrath, his crowne,
I charge, adjure thee to discover thee 620
And meete our loves in correspondency.
LYS. Great kinge, give this straungenes time
Till we may make some use on’t.
PER. Tell me pray
Howe found y’him when you met him on the way?
LYS. Moderately pleasaunt, wel languag’d.
PER. For whose person 625
A God’s name growes this?
LYS. But deliberate.
It may be discontent, t’may be disease.
’Tis but a budde, and ripenes will disclose it.
With violence nip’t ’tis lost.
CYP. Pray, brother, speake.
You see my father’s angry, I’m sure enoughe. 630
You chatted fast enoughe, and in the ship
Could flowte and jest for life when I was sicke.
LYS. My lord, he weepes.
PER. Then we shall see the sun.
Lysamichus and the rest, give him retirement
And leave us. Cypselus?
CYP. I and’t please you, father. 635
PER. Knowe you this sadnes?
CYP. By my troth not I.
PER. What privatenes in h’s journey hath he us’d
Or any time before?
CYP. Never from me.
PER. Writing or reading letters have you seene him?
CYP. No, in good faith.
PER. Tell me what words were past 640
Betwixt him and your graundfather at parting.
CYP. Troth none but ordinary farewell blessing.
PER. (Exiturus.) No? I must find it out. I will find it out.
CYP. Ha, father, once again. I doe remember
Something about my mother that he said 645
(How do’s shee?). Oh there ’tis. Is shee not dead?
PER. Dead, poore Melissa, dead.
CYP. Oh nowe I have it.
And this it was, and straunge methought it was,
But this it was, the very last he spake,
Remember who it was that kill’d your mother. 650
PER. There ’tis. Well advis’d, Procles. Sh’ was your daughter.
Come, Cypselus, once more welcome to our courte,
Reporte not our discourse to him or any. (Exeunt.)
ACTUS II, SCENA v
LYSIMACHUS, LYCOPHRON &c.
LYS. Why, good my lorde, as you drewe onward hither
You were all decent mirth, be as you were. 655
LYC. Why, good Lysimachus, it concern’d you not,
Therefore you had my mirth. Dispose your selfe
To any kind againe, and I am ready.
Let me be only free from question
What my thoughts are, they have no touch of wrong 660
To any person.
ARIST.Shall I pardond be
And speake my soveraignes will to Lycophron?
LYC. It is no worse then what I sorrow for,
Then speake it. I am a man, and not with child,
And feare no breake, spurne, or tumbling downe. 665
Melissa was my mother.
ARIST. My lorde, we dare not
Skarse thinke against great Perianders will.
LYC. Shall no man dare? Let him a tyraunt be,
Heavens and nature their fowle wrongs can see.
ARIST. His streight commaund hath bannisht you his courte. 670
LYC. For Gods sake thanke him. I’m afraide to live in’t.
I would not learne his feares, yet I am cleere
Of hate and lust. H’has one to be his heir
Will serve the turne, and perhaps better to.
He hath not with enoughe to be a tyraunt. 675
Farewell, Lysimachus. I am sound of limme,
I can deserve my food. Heavens forgive him.
Exeunt Lysimachus, Aristaeus. Ingreditur Ph7ilarches.
PHIL. My lorde, I must not leave you.
LYC. Why, Philarches?
PHIL. You love me.
LYC. Therefore ’tis that I would leave thee.
Thou seest howe plaine I have bin with my father, 680
How quicke he followes me. Philarches, stay.
My love’s worth’s lost. Make much of Cypselus,
Observe him well, and quickly, loose no time.
I will not have thee bannisht to, so much I love thee.
PHIL. Each butterfly is seene when sun shines warme — 685
LYC. I prethee leave thine honest similies,
Il’e be alone.
PHIL. Why then, you’le bannish me,
Your presence is my courte. I will not censure
The father kinge or th’ heir apparant sonne.
My meanes are well already, and I’le loose them 690
Eare weakely leave my kind Prince Lycophron.
Ile page you in what ever misery.
But this is but a storme, and throughe the thickest
Of this cloudes dulnes I have seene such hope
As either you dissemble or neglect. 695
My fathers howse is neere, where you may learne
Hoe his affection alters.
LYC. Thanks, Philarches,
Thy love is strong and true. Let us retire.
This common passage is to neere my sire.
PHIL. Come, good my lorde, your freinds will followe you, 700
And they are many too, good freinds indeed.
LYC. Wee’l be the privater. Philarches, then
I must not have to many. I’le rather loose them
Then they shall loose themselves by loving me.
Come nowe, I am thy prisoner.
PHIL. Good my lorde, 705
Hee’ll find himselfe neede that you be restor’d. (Exeunt.
ACTUS II, SCENA vj
SYM. Nowe, Euetaerus, which way blowes the wind?
EU. Not for our sayles, I’m sure. Poor Lycophron
Is bannisht from the courte ere he came to’ t.
SYM. Some depth of reason sure the good Prince has, 710
Or ’tis the straungest passion I ere heard of.
Hee’l speake to any man but to his father
That may commaund his tongue, and head, and all,
And yet he will imparte himselfe to no man.
EU. Tush, man. ’Tis common guesse ’tis for his mother, 715
In plain tearmes lately murdred by his father.
SYM, Newes, newes to Symphilus. Shall we seeke him out
And study our young braines to give him counsaile.
EU. Faith I was even nowe uppon the question.
I will not loose his love for all the courte, 720
For ’tis but misery to have the love
Of Periander and poore Cypselus.
Though eldest, none but knaves and fooles attend him.
SYM. The last I saw about him was Philarches 725
And he, I’m sure, is not about the presence.
EU. To him then t’may be h’has made use of his neereness. (Exeunt.)
ACTUS II, SCENA vij
LYS. At the bay windowe in the gallery
I sawe him with Philarches in his garden.
PER. Let him be calld againe. Once more Il’e yeild 730
To that high stomacke which my selfe have given him. (Exit Lysimachus.)
But do the commons, that huge brainles beast,
Enter so far into my actions?
Must they talke of Melissa? Have they leasure
On market benches to neglect their owne 735
And with familiar boldnes censure us?
And even the very basest of the swarme?
I’le prsently give order for them all,
That not the best mechanicall under value
Of full five hundred crownes shall keepe a man, 740
But do his sweating busines by himselfe.
Their phlegmatique hummes at every period
Of their bold treason turn’d to empty sighes,
And that luxuriant moisture glib’d their toungs,
There pores and eyes shall sluce in sweate and teares. 745
The superfluity of casheerd slaves
Shall goe against my father in lawe old Procles
For his kind lesson to my Lycophron.
Let every petty subject a king be red
As well as dare to teach highe majesty. 750
ACTUS II, SCENA viij
Ingediuntur LYCOPHRON et LYSIMACHUS, pergit PERIANDER
Have you yet purgd that overflowe of spleene
That darkt those eyes of reason and fair duty?
Our hand of wrath is heavy, bend betimes
And loose that stubborne organ of dark thoughts
To better tune of deprecation 755
And kind obedience, or we warne no more —
No? — I expect no more. Let no man dare
To entertayne him publiquely or private.
To Procles, if you will. Yet thither to
Will daungerous be, even in Corinth pine, 760
A spectacle of disobedience
And misery. (Exit Periander.)
ACTUS II, SCENA viiij
PHILARCHES ad LYCOPHRONEM
PHIL. God save Prince Lycoprhron.
LYC. And Godamercy to, for still thou speak’st
From love and hope, not foul derision.
PHIL. My lorde, I have heer eeves-dropt and heard all.
A prohibition I did heare him breath, 765
But without mulct or a particular daunger.
And yet your enterteinement shalbe private,
We must not front great anger.
ACTUS II, SCENA x
SYMPHILUS, EUETAERUS ad LYCOPHRONEM et PHILARCHEN
SYM. How, Euetaerus?
Not entertaine him? Yes by heaven I will.
EU. And beshrewe all my fortunes if I doe not. 770
Methinks ’twere rather treason not to do it.
SYM. After a reconcilement we shall stand
As fair and highe in Perianders love
As they that do it not.
EU. Bee’t howe it will,
Our youth loves him. Hees gentler then his father, 775
And better by ten thousand fair degrees.
Let’s on to seeke him out.
LYC. Wee’l save you labour.
My thanks are toungles yet. Nay, gentle sirs,
Your worths are far above poore mind. For Gods love leave
This scenicall respect, time bids you do it. 780
Your loves are greater than my fellowshippe.
Lets steale hence, thoughe all place be daungerous
For you, hopeless for me. Yet if yea’l venture
W’are nowe on going to Philarches howse.
EU. It is to neere the hot court, my lorde. 785
Yf we but whisper we are thither heard.
My chamber is remoter and more private.
SYM. Mine, good my lord, hath better prospects far,
And is indeed the privat’st of them all.
I have conveyances if need should be. 790
PHIL. But by your favours, first, beside the wrong
To drawe him from his purpose, mine is safer
Because ’tis neerer. In the silent night
Or dull mid-time of day, when table talke
Makes common passe, neglected we may slip 795
On each occasion nimbly from court hither
And back againe unseene, or convey groomes,
Tickets and windowe signes, being so neere
Where in long distance we shall seldome misse
One spy or other, and want many meanes. 800
EU. Mine is far better.
SYM. Mine is good, my lorde.
PHIL. My entertainement is as good as both.
EU. Our severall safenes has no difference.
SYM. ’Twere better farder of.
LYC. Kinde gentlemen,
First to Philarches I was all endebted. 805
Yet love and thankfulnes extend themselves
But so far too that I have lost my selfe
In meditation howe to thanke you all.
Lets study nowe for safenes, not for words.
If never I, then may the genius 810
Of the empires guardian recompence you all. (Exeunt.)
DET. Nowe judgment, judgement, judgement, gentlemen.
Was’t not a poore colde Acte? Were not the princes
A pretty while entring the citty gates?
Did not the eldest fool it handsomely? 815
Did not the youngest to too slightly stoope
To popularity and base observaunce?
Sibilantibus e turba nonnullis pergit.
Fy, fy. Will no man hisse? Y’are partiall.
Where? Where? Freinds, brothers, out with’t, out with’t.
Let’s never keepe it for a private fire. 820
These fellowes have opinion of themselves.
RES. What wilt thou breath, Detraction? For thy paines
To wrong good judgment and kind audience
Thou wilt be hist away thy selfe anon.
This Acte I’le sweare was reasonable well. 825
More I presume anon thy selfe can tel.
If all the actors daily paines and cost
Hold this proportion ’tis not meerely lost.
Silence shall aunswere thy objections nowe.
Thou catchest where thou canst, yet car’st not howe. 830
Detraction, ’tis thy custome faulte to finde
Where thy skill’s none, or where thou com’st behind.
DET. When impudent opynion beares the name
Of Resolution, judgement beares the shame.
I’le pick my teeth and heare another Acte. 835
RES. If thou shouldst sleepe too, dreaming thou’dst detract.
Go to Act III