A King, and No King by Francis Beaumont & John Fletcher (read me like a book TXT) 📖

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Hast thou no greater sense of such a sin? Thou art too wicked for my company, Though I have hell within me, thou may'st yet Corrupt me further: pray thee answer me, How do I shew to thee after this motion?

Bes.

Why your Majesty looks as well in my opinion, as ever you did since you were born.

Arb.

But thou appear'st to me after thy grant, The ugliest, loathed detestable thing That I ever met with. Thou hast eyes Like the flames of Sulphur, which me thinks do dart Infection on me, and thou hast a mouth Enough to take me in where there do stand Four rows of Iron Teeth.

Bes.

I feel no such thing, but 'tis no matter how I look, Pie do my business as well as they that look better, and when this is dispatch'd, if you have a mind to your Mother, tell me, and you shall see I'le set it hard.

Arb.

My Mother! Heaven forgive me to hear this, I am inspir'd with horrour: now I hate thee Worse than my sin, which if I could come by Should suffer death Eternal ne're to rise In any breast again. Know I will die Languishing mad, as I resolve, I shall, E're I will deal by such an instrument: Thou art too sinful to imploy in this; Out of the World, away.

Bes.

What do you mean, Sir?

Arb.

Hung round with Curses, take thy fearful flight Into the Desarts, where 'mongst all the Monsters If thou find'st one so beastly as thy self, Thou shalt be held as innocent.

Bes.

Good Sir.

Arb.

If there were no such instruments as thou, We Kings could never act such wicked deeds: Seek out a man that mocks Divinity, That breaks each precept both of God and man, And natures too, and does it without lust, Meerly because it is a law, and good, And live with him: for him thou canst not spoil. Away I say, I will not do this sin.

[Exit Bessus.

I'le press it here, till it do break my breast, It heaves to get out, but thou art a sin, And spight of torture I will keep thee in.



ACTUS QUARTUS.

Enter Gobrias, Panthea, and Spaconia.

Gob.

Have you written Madam?

Pan.

Yes, good Gobrias.

Gob.

And with a kindness, and such winning words As may provoke him, at one instant feel His double fault, your wrong, and his own rashness?

Pan.

I have sent words enough, if words may win him From his displeasure; and such words I hope, As shall gain much upon his goodness, Gobrias. Yet fearing they are many, and a womans, A poor belief may follow, I have woven As many truths within 'em to speak for me, That if he be but gracious, and receive 'em--

Gob.

Good Lady be not fearful, though he should not Give you your present end in this, believe it, You shall feel, if your vertue can induce you To labour on't, this tempest which I know, Is but a poor proof 'gainst your patience: All those contents, your spirit will arrive at, Newer and sweeter to you; your Royal brother, When he shall once collect himself, and see How far he has been asunder from himself; What a meer stranger to his golden temper: Must from those roots of vertue, never dying, Though somewhat stopt with humour, shoot again Into a thousand glories, bearing his fair branches High as our hopes can look at, straight as justice, Loaden with ripe contents; he loves you dearly, I know it, and I hope I need not farther Win you to understand it.

Pan.

I believe it. But howsoever, I am sure I love him dearly: So dearly, that if any thing I write For my enlarging should beget his anger, Heaven be a witness with me and my faith, I had rather live intomb'd here.

Gob.

You shall not feel a worse stroke than your grief, I am sorry 'tis so sharp, I kiss your hand, And this night will deliver this true story, With this hand to your Brother.

Pan.

Peace go with you, you are a good man.

[Exit Gob.

My Spaconia, why are you ever sad thus?

Spa.

O dear Lady.

Pan.

Prethee discover not a way to sadness, Nearer than I have in me, our two sorrows Work like two eager Hawks, who shall get highest; How shall I lessen thine? for mine I fear Is easier known than cur'd.

Spa.

Heaven comfort both, And give you happy ends, however I Fall in my stubborn fortunes.

Pan.

This but teaches How to be more familiar with our sorrows, That are too much our masters: good Spaconia How shall I do you service?

Spa.

Noblest Lady, You make me more a slave still to your goodness, And only live to purchase thanks to pay you, For that is all the business of my life: now I will be bold, since you will have it so, To ask a noble favour of you.

Pan.

Speak it, 'tis yours, for from so sweet a vertue, No ill demand has issue.

Spa.

Then ever vertuous, let me beg your will In helping me to see the Prince Tigranes, With whom I am equal prisoner, if not more.

Pan.

Reserve me to a greater end Spaconia; Bacurius cannot want so much good manners As to deny your gentle visitation, Though you came only with your own command.

Spa.

I know they will deny me gracious Madam, Being a stranger, and so little fam'd, So utter empty of those excellencies That tame Authority; but in you sweet Lady, All these are natural; beside, a power Deriv'd immediate from your Royal brother, Whose least word in you may command the Kingdom.

Pan.

More than my word Spaconia, you shall carry, For fear it fail you.

Spa.

Dare you trust a Token? Madam I fear I am grown too bold a begger.

Pan.

You are a pretty one, and trust me Lady It joyes me, I shall do a good to you, Though to my self I never shall be happy: Here, take this Ring, and from me as a Token Deliver it; I think they will not stay you: So all your own desires go with you Lady.

Spa.

And sweet peace to your Grace.

Pan.

Pray Heaven I find it.

[Exeunt.

Enter Tigranes, in prison.

Tigr.

Fool that I am, I have undone my self, And with my own hand turn'd my fortune round, That was a fair one: I have childishly Plaid with my hope so long, till I have broke it, And now too late I mourn for't; O Spaconia! Thou hast found an even way to thy revenge now, Why didst thou follow me like a faint shadow, To wither my desires? But wretched fool, Why did I plant thee 'twixt the Sun and me, To make me freeze thus? Why did I prefer her To the fair Princess? O thou fool, thou fool, Thou family of fools, live like a slave still, And in thee bear thine own hell and thy torment, Thou hast deserv'd: Couldst thou find no Lady But she that has thy hopes to put her to, And hazard all thy peace? None to abuse, But she that lov'd thee ever? poor Spaconia, And so much lov'd thee, that in honesty And honour thou art bound to meet her vertues: She that forgot the greatness of her grief And miseries, that must follow such mad passions, Endless and wild as women; she that for thee And with thee left her liberty, her name, And Country, you have paid me equal, Heavens, And sent my own rod to correct me with; A woman: for inconstancy I'le suffer, Lay it on justice, till my soul melt in me For my unmanly, beastly, sudden doting Upon a new face: after all my oaths Many and strange ones, I feel my old fire flame again and burn So strong and violent, that should I see her Again, the grief and that would kill me.

Enter Bacurius And Spaconia.

Bac.

Lady, your token I acknowledge, you may pass; There is the King.

Spa.

I thank your Lordship for it.

[Exit Bac.

Tigr.

She comes, she comes, shame hide me ever from her, Would I were buried, or so far remov'd Light might not find me out, I dare not see her.

Spa.

Nay never hide your self; or were you hid Where earth hides all her riches, near her Center; My wrongs without more day would light me to you: I must speak e're I die; were all your greatness Doubled upon you, y'are a perjur'd man, And only mighty in your wickedness Of wronging women. Thou art false, false Prince; I live to see it, poor Spaconia lives To tell thee thou art false; and then no more; She lives to tell thee thou art more unconstant, Than all ill women ever were together. Thy faith is firm as raging over-flowes, That no bank can command; as lasting As boyes gay bubbles, blown i'th' Air and broken: The wind is fixt to thee: and sooner shall The beaten Mariner with his shrill whistle Calm the loud murmur of the troubled main, And strike it smooth again; than thy soul fall To have peace in love with any: Thou art all That all good men must hate; and if thy story Shall tell succeeding ages what thou wert, O let it spare me in it, lest true lovers In pity of my wrong, burn thy black Legend, And with their curses, shake thy sleeping ashes.

Tigr.

Oh! oh!

Spa.

The destinies, I hope, have pointed out Our ends, that thou maist die for love, Though not for me; for this assure thy self, The Princess hates thee deadly, and will sooner Be won to marry with a Bull, and safer Than such a beast as thou art: I have struck, I fear, too deep; beshrow me for't; Sir, This sorrow works me like a cunning friendship, Into the same piece with it; 'tis asham'd, Alas, I have been too rugged: Dear my Lord, I am sorry I have spoken any thing, Indeed I am, that may add more restraint To that too much you have: good Sir, be pleas'd To think it was a fault of love, not malice; And do as I will do, forgive it Prince. I do, and can forgive the greatest