Philaster | Page 9

when--
Pha. Till when, this, and my heart go with thee.
[_Ex. several ways_.
_Enter _Galatea from behind the hangings.
Gal. Oh thou pernicious Petticoat Prince, are these your vertues? Well, if I do not lay a train to blow your sport up, I am no woman; and Lady Towsabel I'le fit you for't.
[Exit Gal.
_Enter _Arethusa and a Lady.
Are. Where's the boy?
La. Within Madam.
Are. Gave you him gold to buy him cloaths?
La. I did.
Are. And has he don't?
La. Yes Madam.
Are. 'Tis a pretty sad talking lad, is it not? Askt you his name?
La. No Madam.
[ _Enter _Galatea.
Are. O you are welcome, what good news?
Gal. As good as any one can tell your Grace, That saies she hath done that you would have wish'd.
Are. Hast thou discovered?
Gal. I have strained a point of modesty for you.
Are. I prethee how?
Gal. In listning after bawdery; I see, let a Lady live never so modestly, she shall be sure to find a lawful time, to harken after bawdery; your Prince, brave Pharamond, was so hot on't.
Are. With whom?
Gal. Why, with the Lady I suspect: I can tell the time and place.
Are. O when, and where?
Gal. To night, his Lodging.
Are. Run thy self into the presence, mingle there again With other Ladies, leave the rest to me: If destiny (to whom we dare not say, Why thou didst this) have not decreed it so In lasting leaves (whose smallest Characters Were never altered:) yet, this match shall break. Where's the boy?
La. Here Madam.
[ _Enter _Bellario.
Are. Sir, you are sad to change your service, is't not so?
Bell. Madam, I have not chang'd; I wait on you, To do him service.
Are. Thou disclaim'st in me; Tell me thy name.
Bell. Bellario.
Are. Thou canst sing, and play?
Bell. If grief will give me leave, Madam, I can.
Are. Alas! what kind of grief can thy years know? Hadst thou a curst master, when thou went'st to School? Thou art not capable of other grief; Thy brows and cheeks are smooth as waters be, When no [b]reath troubles them: believe me boy, Care seeks out wrinkled brows, and hollow eyes, And builds himself caves to abide in them. Come Sir, tell me truly, does your Lord love me?
Bell. Love Madam? I know not what it is.
Are. Canst thou know grief, and never yet knew'st love? Thou art deceiv'd boy; does he speak of me As if he wish'd me well?
Bell. If it be love, To forget all respect of his own friends, In thinking of your face; if it be love To sit cross arm'd and sigh away the day, Mingled with starts, crying your name as loud And hastily, as men i'the streets do fire: If it be love to weep himself away, When he but hears of any Lady dead, Or kill'd, because it might have been your chance; If when he goes to rest (which will not be) 'Twixt every prayer he saies, to name you once As others drop a bead, be to be in love; Then Madam, I dare swear he loves you.
Are. O y'are a cunning boy, and taught to lie, For your Lords credit; but thou knowest, a lie, That bears this sound, is welcomer to me, Than any truth that saies he loves me not. Lead the way Boy: Do you attend me too; 'Tis thy Lords business hasts me thus; Away.
[Exeunt.
_Enter _Dion, Cleremont, Thrasilin, Megra _and _Galatea.
Di. Come Ladies, shall we talk a round? As men Do walk a mile, women should take an hour After supper: 'Tis their exercise.
Gal. Tis late.
Meg. 'Tis all My eyes will do to lead me to my bed.
Gal. I fear they are so heavy, you'l scarce find The way to your lodging with 'em to night.
[ Enter Pharamond.
Thra. The Prince.
Pha. Not a bed Ladies? y'are good sitters up; What think you of a pleasant dream to last Till morning?
Meg. I should choose, my Lord, a pleasing wake before it.
[_Enter _Arethusa _and _Bellario.
Are. 'Tis well my Lord y'are courting of Ladies. Is't not late Gentlemen?
Cle. Yes Madam.
Are. Wait you there. [_Exit _Arethusa.
Meg. She's jealous, as I live; look you my Lord, The Princess has a Hilas, an Adonis.
Pha. His form is Angel-like.
Meg. Why this is he, must, when you are wed, Sit by your pillow, like young Apollo, with His hand and voice, binding your thoughts in sleep; The Princess does provide him for you, and for her self.
Pha. I find no musick in these boys.
Meg. Nor I. They can do little, and that small they do, They have not wit to hide.
Di. Serves he the Princess?
Thra. Yes.
Di. 'Tis a sweet boy, how brave she keeps him!
Pha. Ladies all good rest; I mean to kill a Buck To morrow morning, ere y'ave done your dreams.
Meg. All happiness attend your Grace, Gentlemen good rest, Come shall we to bed?
Gal. Yes, all good night.
[Ex.