Philaster; Or, Love Lies a Bleeding. Beaumont Francis
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Название: Philaster; Or, Love Lies a Bleeding
Автор: Beaumont Francis
Издательство: Public Domain
Жанр: Драматургия
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'Tis strange, he will not let me sleep, but dives
Into my fancy, and there gives me shapes
That kneel, and do me service, cry me King:
But I'le suppress him, he's a factious spirit,
And will undo me: noble Sir, [your] hand, I am your
servant.
King. Away, I do not like this:
I'le make you tamer, or I'le dispossess you
Both of life and spirit: For this time
I pardon your wild speech, without so much
As your imprisonment.
[Ex. King, Pha. and Are.
Di. I thank you Sir, you dare not for the people.
Gal. Ladies, what think you now of this brave fellow?
Meg. A pretty talking fellow, hot at hand; but eye yon stranger, is not he a fine compleat Gentleman? O these strangers, I do affect them strangely: they do the rarest home things, and please the fullest! as I live, could love all the Nation over and over for his sake.
Gal. Pride comfort your poor head-piece Lady: 'tis a weak one, and had need of a Night-cap.
Di. See how his fancy labours, has he not spoke
Home, and bravely? what a dangerous train
Did he give fire to! How he shook the King,
Made his soul melt within him, and his blood
Run into whay! it stood upon his brow,
Like a cold winter dew.
Phi. Gentlemen,
You have no suit to me? I am no minion:
You stand (methinks) like men that would be Courtiers,
If you could well be fiatter'd at a price,
Not to undo your Children: y'are all honest:
Go get you home again, and make your Country
A vertuous Court, to which your great ones may,
In their Diseased age, retire, and live recluse.
Cle. How do you worthy Sir?
Phi. Well, very well;
And so well, that if the King please, I find
I may live many years.
Di. The King must please,
Whilst we know what you are, and who you are,
Your wrongs and [injuries]: shrink not, worthy Sir,
But add your Father to you: in whose name,
We'll waken all the gods, and conjure up
The rods of vengeance, the abused people,
Who like to raging torrents shall swell high,
And so begirt the dens of these Male-dragons,
That through the strongest safety, they shall beg
For mercy at your swords point.
Phi. Friends, no more,
Our years may he corrupted: 'Tis an age
We dare not trust our wills to: do you love me?
Thra. Do we love Heaven and honour?
Phi. My Lord Dion, you had
A vertuous Gentlewoman call'd you Father;
Is she yet alive?
Di. Most honour'd Sir, she is:
And for the penance but of an idle dream,
Has undertook a tedious Pilgrimage.
[ Enter a Lady.
Phi. Is it to me, or any of these Gentlemen you come?
La. To you, brave Lord; the Princess would intreat Your present company.
Phi. The Princess send for me! y'are mistaken.
La. If you be call'd Philaster, 'tis to you.
Phi. Kiss her hand, and say I will attend her.
Di. Do you know what you do?
Phi. Yes, go to see a woman.
Cle. But do you weigh the danger you are in?
Phi. Danger in a sweet face?
By Jupiter I must not fear a woman.
Thra. But are you sure it was the Princess sent?
It may be some foul train to catch your life.
Phi. I do not think it Gentlemen: she's noble,
Her eye may shoot me dead, or those true red
And white friends in her face may steal my soul out:
There's all the danger in't: but be what may,
Her single name hath arm'd me.
[Ex. Phil.
Di. Go on:
And be as truly happy as thou art fearless:
Come Gentlemen, let's make our friends acquainted,
Lest the King prove false.
[Ex. СКАЧАТЬ