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ACTUS III, SCENA i
LYCOPHRON, PHILARCHES, EUETAERUS, SYMPHILUS
LYC. Why we have kept younge courte with much more ease
Then they that sweate in hot ambitious fire,
Close envies moldring heate and wraths swift blast
Our last nights long discourse had all the rules 840
Of excellent observation without aime
Of foule obliquity and secret reach,
Our diet pleasang and our quiet sweete.
Is this the end of bannishement from courte?
Then let me never see the courte againe 845
Unles it be to teach the courte this vaine.
SYM. My lord, the coach is ready. Will you please
To spend this afternoone among my walks?
Aristaeus a Periandro missus.
AR. My wishes, good my lorde, are as your owne,
Thoughe heavy language sit uppon my tongue. 850
LYC. Speake, man. ’Tis from my father that you come.
AR. Your enemy could not send a sadder doome.
LYC. Cannot the world example it? Yf it can,
Then I can beare it as light as any man.
Is it a newe invention worse then worst? 855
Then ’tis my glory that I beare it first.
Strike, man. Thou can’st not hurte me.
AR. Thus, my lorde.
First I must separate theis gentlemen
By speciall. Then the world on the deare loss
Of all their state, suspension of their lives, 860
Vow’d to Apollo for a sacrifice
That dare releive you or but speake to you.
LYC. What? Is this all? Then farewell, gentlemen.
Nay nowe ’tis time to parte. I hold you deare.
Ile steal away, renounce yea if yea followe. 865
Can Periander in his bosome beare
So huge an heape of torment as I knowe
Racks his best powers and will confound him to,
And cannot Lycophron a little starvinge
And fewe daies silence? Gentlemen, farewell, 870
Farewell, farewell. And yet I do bethinke me.
Nay weep not out your eyes, do not hurte them.
For I will hover still about your gates
And Perianders to, where yea shall see me,
And I see you, and Periander to, 875
And heavens see all.
Crumenas singulis porrigentibus.
Oh endles love yet fruiteles.
No I’le obey my father, bargain’s releife.
And Il’e not buy meate. Ther’s the sun yet shines
And that will drive out clouds, and thei’l give rayne
That will preserve the springs, and thei’l yeild water 880
And that sweet sun will helpe me to digest them.
That sun shall pay no mulct, suspend no life.
Farewell. Ile find helpe where there is no strife.
Exeunt, illi deiectis capitibus plorentes. Manet Lycophron.
ACTUS III, SCENA ij
EUG. Stay, Lycophron. The sad commaunds extent
Cannot take hold on me. I’le send you hence 885
To a deare friend I have and secret true.
LYC. Good sister, kinde Eugenia, one at once,
Wilbe enoughe t’offend and smart for’t too.
Your love is not the lesse if I refuse it
Nor could my thanks be greater if I tooke it. 890
EUG. (Lachrymans.) Where will you sup to night?
LYC. Marry in your presence
With mine owne father.
EUG. I hope you shall againe.
Where must you lodge?
LYC. Under one canopy,
Both he and I.
EUG. Why, brother, doe you mock mee?
LYC. Sister, looke up.
EUG. Alas what shall I doe? 895
LYC. Faith daunce, and singe, and laughe, and paynt, and kisse.
EUG. I love you better then to mock you so.
LYC. To love me so is but to mocke thy selfe.
EUG. I care not, brother. Let him bannish me,
I will not see you want. Pray take this gold. 900
LYC. Why do’st not beare my angry fathers stampe?
EUG. What els?
LYC. I dare not meddle with it then.
His coine bought theis good clothes, my misery
Is all to fine. Ile chaunge them with some swane.
EUG. Then, Lycophron, I must commaund you take it. 905
He sent me secretly to give it you
As from my selfe, and therewithall he told me
Hee’d love the man did with wise secresy
Give you good entertainement.
LYC. Sweete kinde sister
Thy love is better then thy providence. 910
We have to much of good Melissa in us.
But shewe it not, Eugenia, shewe it not.
Be sterne, respectles, skornefull.
EUG. To my brother?
LYC. To Lycophron but not to Cypselus.
EUG. To Cypselus, that silly man of cloutes 915
Whose brooch is ten times dearer then his braines.
LYC. Sister, beware offence.
EUG. Beware a fig.
If you be blind and mad, I’le wait on you
Like poore Ismene on her Oedipus.
I will not leave you nowe, I’le beg for you. 920
I will not more be Perianders daughter
Till I heare him call Lycophron his sonne.
I doe not thinke that he did love Melissa
To use her children thus.
LYC. Not love Melissa!
EUG. I cannot tell, they say shee fell downe staires 925
And that he was hard by. But still, you knowe,
We must knowe least. Come, come sweete brother, come,
Wee’l both go on our knees and aske him pardon.
Ile speake and weepe for both. Yf he be sterne
We will conjure him by Melissa’s soule 930
And then we shall discover howe he lov’d her.
LYC. Such tender sweetness in a tyraunts breed?
Sister, thou counsailst well, but my rude presence
Will steel him ’gainst thy prayers. Yet thou shalt beare
This ringe from me to good Lysimachus. 935
Let him be mediatour whilst thou speakst.
No — I beare peece of Periander to.
My best Melissa gave me, but my will
And resolution he has backt me too.
Ile use no mediatour. Sister, I’me sorry. 940
I am so poore to so many deare loves
I meete with every hower. But sweete farewell,
I love thee as my soule. Briefly, farewell. (Exit)
EUG. Trecotius, hither. Followe, watch him close
And find some meanes to send continuall message 945
Whither he goes, what kindeness you see done him.
Heer use thy best discretion yf he want.
He is thy mistres brother. Passe no words,
Change habit nowe and then, as you see time.
Meane while I’le use some meanes. Poor Lycophron,
I see thy misery but cause see none. (Exit.) 950
ACTUS III, SCENA iij
PERIANDER, ARISTAEUS et alii
PER. What, are they shipt?
AR. And have a nimble gale.
PER. Then, Procles, say I, make a ritch exchaunge,
Fifteene tall ships for one, ten thousand men
Are bringing you tuition for my sonnes,
My two unaequall young proficients. 955
You hastend one to fast, held backe the other.
You have made young Lycophron subtile and stoute,
Poore Cypselus comes home an idiot.
That’s all the fault I finde, thanks for the rest.
If they can bringe the grave philosopher 960
Alive to Corinth we shall teach him rules
Of such highe contemplation that shall make him
Abjure his kingdome. Nowe Melissae’s dead,
Her father holds no leagued affinity.
Must he returne my sonnes with caveats, 965
To out-face me with sterne silence and contempt?
To steale the duty of the best from me?
To fyre him from his Epidaurian towers
Il’e arme the verie schooleboyes of my land
And snatch young virgins from contracting hands. 970
My wrath divided were enough to fire
Armies of captaines, and to bid the world
A generall battalyle, but it burnes me up. (Musica intus.)
I must forget it. Nowe, Arion, please me,
And Syracusian banquetters joyn hands 975
With Tarentines to feast me faire tonighte,
To turne the course of spleen that still fumes up.
Her waving mists about my madded braine.
But contraries joyn hands and freinds againe. (Exit.)
ACTUS III, SCENA iiij
PHILARCHES, EUETAERUS, SYMPHILUS audita ab intus musica.
PHIL. What project might this bee?
EU. Madnes, meere madnes 980
That knowes not where to rest. In midst of sporte
His blacke thoughts will returne unles he drowne them,
And then his dreames will make him sweat and quake.
SYM. Now growes the ripenes of his tyranny
To its confusion. Periander t’was 985
That learn’d of Thrasibulus of Miletus
To whip of heads of supereminent growth.
PHIL. And nowe that lesson he’s most cunning in.
Besides a number of deserving peeres
His wife, her father, and his wisest sonne,
Shee past, they comming to this furious blocke, 990
Where in the end he will behead himselfe
Not for the wante but hate of enemies.
EU. The hope we had was all on Lycophron.
While Periander feasts and revells it,
Howe shall we give attendance to them both? 995
SYM. The first of night must Perianders be.
After for Lycophron as our men give word.
PHIL. We must keepe factious watch. Yet yf there be
Any lesst love in roughe humanity
Theil understand us.
EU. We must venture nowe. 1000
Our cause is good, thoughe tyranny say no.
The night’s allready cold and darke.
PHIL. Alls one.
Some stars will peepe in love of Lycophron.
Exeunt Crataeam videntes. Ingreditur Crataea.
CRAT. Let them be Jupiter and Venus then,
I should have call’d them honest gentlemen 1005
But that I feare all attributes of goodnes.
Messaean bloud so scortcht not Hercules,
Nor Aetnae’s talk’t of bowells halfe so hot.
No rage of youth above my appetite.
This night’s highe hope has giv’n it violent breath. 1010
Twice in his best sobriety was he yieldinge.
Now he prepares himselfe, and knowes it not.
Musique and wine steale reason from itselfe,
Make it resigne to passion, which the eye
Must usher for. Ther’s Aristaeus daughter 1015
Amongst this little troope of revellers.
Nowe his undaring glaunces fly at her.
Shee shall give fire which Bacchus shall maintaine,
Drowning his other scowting faculties
While I watch time to take my parte of spoile. 1020
Crataea. Ad hanc Eugenia, Larissaea (soror Philarchis), Aerope (Aristaei filia), post has Aristaeus aliunde.
AR. Madame, the kinge wants company and wonders
Whether you are withdrawn. And, madam, you
Are call’d for to. His mirth would have bin higher
But that he mist you both.
CRAT. Good Aristaeus,
I was not well.
EUG. And, madame, you sent me 1025
For my Aerope who complayn’d so to,
Els we had stayd it out.
CRAT. Come, ’tis not late
And Periander for this many months
Was not so jolly sett. He wants it much
And we performe faire duty to assist. 1030
Come, sweete Aerope, you can foot it well.
EUG. I and shee knowes it too.
AER. My best tricke, madam,
I learn’d of you.
EUG. Go to. You turne to fast
For me, Aerope.
AER. Wee have kept some time. (Exeunt foeminae.)
AR. Is it to ease his load of discontent 1035
Or to dissemble it? Or to try the freinds
And patience of poore Lycophron this night?
Sure ’tis but painted sunshine.
ACTUS III, SCENA v
Good night. I have my leave and am all sleepe.
The kinge himselfe will presently to bed. 1040
AR. Good night, Philarches. Y’are to hot at hand.
You thinke your young blood never can be tam’d.
PHIL. I must maintein a longer course to night
And dance in boots too, and without all light.
Yet some god send or bee’t but mutuall voice 1045
That wee may heare our poore Prince Lycophron.
Yet in this treasure richer then his father,
Cleere and not starting.
ACTUS III, SCENA vj
PHIL. Well said, well said, sirs.
Met you not Aristaeus?
EU. Not since you went.
PHIL. ’Tis well. We would not have them talke of us. 1050
Wellcome we may be souldiers one day, sirs,
To walke darke roind, eeves-drop an enemies camp.
Thoughe we come halting home for’t, we must venture.
SYM. ’Tis late, Philarches. Shall wee forward?
Whatever rest our Periander have. 1055
God speed us, and our good, good prince God save.
ACTUS III, SCENA vij
MELISSAE umbra per scenam furtivo passu obambulans tandem ad lectum Periandri se convertit.
Heere, Periander. Where you cald Melissa.
Lectum introspiciens et territam fugientemque Crataeam cernens pergit. Paulo remotior ipsa tanquam attonita.
Fy, fy, incestuous kinge in boundles lust.
Gyant in villany, that mountainstd up
Horrid offence against the trembling stars. 1060
I had forgot Pornaeas and Zonas wrongs,
And that one stroke that kickt away two lives
From poore Melissa and her unborne babe.
But when I heard of my young Lycophron
Bannisht your court, and Procles my poore father 1065
Proclaim’d an enemy, then my greived soul
Got leave to aske fair pardon for them both.
But as I silent to the knowne bed came,
I that had lost all passion with my fleshe,
Which nowe offensive putrefaction keepes, 1070
Recoild uppon my selfe. But, conquerour growne,
I stole the heaving of a curtaine up
Which shew’d me — oh — Crataea and her sonne.
But, Periander, I am all a cold.
My garments buryed with me warme me not. 1075
To the neglected Venus sacrifice
And in the consecrated fire burne
Those murder lust-staind garments. This way turne, (Misere concusso et attonito illi.)
That thy Melissa no illusion speakes.
Remember when into an oven cold 1080
You set unwellcome and abused mold (Exit.)
ACTUS III, SCENA viij
PHILARCHES, EUETAERUS, SYMPHILUS cum pallio cibis et puto Lycophrona quaerentes
PHIL. ’This villanous senceless obduration.
This vulgar has in causes they thinke strong.
Let understanding ingenuity
Woo them with secrett signes, hammer with words. 1085
They are not malleable ductile stuffe.
I wonder more at them then at this tempest.
EU. They see us passe and do suspect our ends
To bringe releife to poore Prince Lycophron.
Yet still the uncharitable dullards crosse us. 1090
I thinke it is theire punnishement not his
That it should thunder, raine, and lighten thus.
SYM. But raine and flash, wee’l stand it out the more
To exercise theire fetherbed-fat sides
And gowty feet that never felt like night. 1095
PHIL. I’m wet to the skin.
EU. And I’le wade to the chin,
But I will make them dance throughe thicke and thin.
ACTUS III, SCENA viiij
LYC. No, cittizens, I’le live a courtier still
And rather dy under a kings highe wrath
Then have it told me that your pitty sav’d mee. 1100
Borne in this courte (I thinke I poynt right to it)
And dy on citty bulkes? No night bird, sirs,
And yet those citty watchmen groping followe
To arrest all charity that would releife mee.
PHIL. His voice.
EU. Close, then.
ACTUS III, SCENA x
Ingredientibus vigilibus cuivis recurrunt.
SYM. This lightning blast them all. 1105
Pertranseuntibus cum levi murmure scenam totam, et egredientibus.
I on severity walke out your roome.
I have descryed a little shelter heere
Under Gorgias my absent uncles house
Thanks to the hand that built it out so farre.
Now, maisters, use your best descretion. 1110
Revertuntur vigiles et scenam iterum pertranseunt.
VIG. 1 We must not be farre of.
VIG. 2 Twise I have heard
Some trampling neere us.
VIG. 3 Would they had our roomes.
VIG. 1 I would this prince were warme in my best bed.
So I were well to.
LYC. Kinde condition,
Good citizen, still sibi proximus. 1115
ACTUS III, SCENA xj
NEOTINUS principis Lycophrontis pedisequus
NEO. Maister, kind maister, sweete prince Lycophron.
Y’are not far of. O heare me. I am sicke,
Yet I will followe. Philarchus lockt me up,
But his kinde windowe let me scape to find you.
I do not care for Perianders chiding. 1120
I will steale through this fearfull tempest too
All wet and dirty, yet my hart is good.
Good maister, speake. Your voice will make me well.
Ile starve and dy but I will find you out.
ACTUS iii, SCENA iij
LYC. And heavn thus angry too? Then powre your wrath 1125
Downe at one clap. Sparing the harmeles flocks
And goodly trees which nowe yea blast and tear,
Mold all your thunder stuffe into one bolt
To end this tempest on poore Lycophron.
With churlishe porters turne me from their doores 1130
In this sad night for feare of highe displeasure.
Their verie dogs wer enowe affraid to chide,
And yet they would. Are these court neighborers?
Do but suppose a new catastophe
Of Periander reconcil’d, then dead, 1135
And Lycophron proclaim’d his lawfull heire.
How would they run and strive to teare their throats
With acclamation! Yet amongst the rest
By the kind faire light of a trembling flashe
(Which but for feare of treason would have staid) 1140
I could descry my kind Philarches twise
Approaching me, but by the dogging watch
Was still kept of, and others mustled past.
But who I knowe not, kind freinds I suppose,
That durst adventure in this horrid night. 1145
I, a kings sonne, thus hungry, colde, and wett
So neere th’ abundance and the warmth of courte.
Fortune can turne her wheele about apace
Within this howre the fourth daies morne wilbe
Since sleeples, foodles, howseles I have walkt, 1150
Worse then a thousand pestilentiall ills
Declin’d of all. And yet before these gates
Where I was borne great Perianders sonne
Some fowre daies more Ile breath, then farewell, Lycophron.
Philarches et Symphilus gladiis districtis cibos et pallium subito offerentes.
PHIL. His name and voice.
LYC. Whose there? Sighe, man? Kind silence. 1155
What, gone again? Then heavens love them both. (Exeunt.)
Alas I have forgotten howe to feed.
Euetaerus utrem dans.
EU. This way, I take it. (Exit.)
LYC. Who? Forgive me, freinds,
I knowe not whome to thanke. Are Argus eyes
Nowe fall’n a sleepe that such abundance comes? 1160
Well watcht on all sides, stormes shall end with fair weather.
Neotimus, audiente Lycophrone.
NEO. O God! Not heare me? Would to God ’twere day
As it is neere. This lightning do’s but mocke mee.
It shews me walking men, but silent all.
Most unkind men, not pitty me this night? 1165
Yet sure my good prince would, for he can tell
What misiry is better then I, good soule.
Ile cry out on these men, make them asham’d.
Who heares me? For shame, pitty Lycophron.
Pitty his halfe dead page Neotinus. 1170
This tempest makes them hide them in their beds.
Dastard unkindnes. What, not one good hearte
Dares ope a casement to my princes name?
Corinthians, citizens, courtiers, cowards all.
LYC. Whose there?
NEO. Neotinus the prince’s page. 1175
Who are you? Come let’s meete. For all the world’s
Strucke dead but you and I. For Gods sake speake,
Give me your hand. — And nowe your tongue, I pray.
Who are you? Speake?
LYC. I cannot, boy, for weeping.
NEO. O God, my maister! Out alasse, all wett. 1180
LYC. Howe durst thou swim throughe fire and water thus?
Each flashe had fire enoughe to blast thee, boy.
Each dashe enoughe to drowne thee.
NEO. Oh, I live,
I live, sweete maister, nowe alls well.
LYC. Thus are we seasoned souldiers that can fast, 1185
And watch, and feareles gaze on hideous night,
Stand bare upright to tempest. Wellcome, morne.
Day makes forgett what a sad night has borne. (Exeunt.)
DET. I pray, sir, tell me, do’s your story say
That he was watcht thus all the night and day? 1190
Heeres boldnes of a barren poet to,
To faine a tempest. Iudgement, shall this goe?
RES. Sir, thus the scant and scattered story saies,
That wether, greife and hunger in four daies
Did pine and spend him to a feare of death, 1195
That his industrious freinds successively
Attempted to releife him, but an eye
From every corner flue that kept them by.
DET. ’This very likely that the citty watch
Should be so sterne.
RES. There’s a juditious catch. 1200
Who cannot say howe peremptory stand
The mooveable stated citizens when command
With threatned life flyes to them from their kinge?
DET. Beside all harpe upon a common stringe,
The liberty of adding that yee take 1205
Poore imitations of all heapes to make.
RES. These is some stuffe in this objection,
But where discovered your imitation?
DET. In all cleane through.
RES. I’de gladly knowe the man
That bragge of absolute invention can. 1210
But have you read the story?
DET. Troth, sir, no.
RES. Then what’s inserted, sir, you cannot shew.
Ther’s not a man in all this company
But knowes some parrallel parte of history
Which yet perhaps we never sawe nor heard. 1215
DET. Nay, by no meanes wish I yea should be bar’d
Of your inventions praise.
RES. Preethee sit still,
Heare all, then speake with thy best skill or will.
DES. Blest be the time, you are so ritch in rime.
RES. Curst be the season that rob’d thee of reason. 1220
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