Speak boldly to me; for I am a man,
And dare not quarrel with Divinity;
And do not think to cozen me with this.
I see, you are all mute and stand amazed,
Fearful to answer me. It is too true;
A decreed instant cuts off every life,
For which to mourn, is to repine. She died
A virgin though, more innocent than sleep,
As clear as her own eyes; and blessedness
Eternal waits upon her where she is.

I know, she could not make a wish to change
Her state for new; and you shall see me bear
My crosses like a man. We all must die,
And she hath taught us how.

Arb. Away!

No more of this! Here I pronounce him traitor,
The direct plotter of my death, that names
Or thinks her for my sister: 'Tis a lye,
The most malicious of the world, invented
To mad your king. He that will say so next,
Let him draw out his sword and sheath it here;
It is a sin fully as pardonable.

She is no kin to me, nor shall she be :
If she were ever, I create her none.

And which of you can question this? My power
Is like the sea, that is to be obey'd,
And not disputed with. I have decreed her
As far from having part of blood with me,
As the naked Indians. Come and answer me,
He that is boldest now! Is that my sister?
Mar. Oh, this is fine!

Bes. No, marry, she is not, an't please your
majesty.

I never thought she was; she's nothing like you.
Arb. No; 'tis true, she is not.
Mar. Thou should'st be hang'd.

Pan. Sir, I will speak but once: By the same
power

You make my blood a stranger unto yours,
You may command me dead; and so much love
A stranger may importune; pray you, do.
If this request appear too much to grant,
Adopt me of some other family,

By your unquestion'd word; else I shall live
Like sinful issues, that are left in streets
By their regardless mothers, and no name
Will be found for me.

Arb. I will hear no more.

Why should there be such music in a voice,
And sin for me to hear it? All the world
May take delight in this; and 'tis damnation
For me to do so. You are fair, and wise,
And virtuous, I think; and he is bless'd
That is so near you as a brother is ;
But you are nought to me but a disease;
Continual torment without hope of ease.
Such an ungodly sickness I have got,
That he, that undertakes my cure, must first
O'erthrow divinity, all moral laws,

And leave mankind as unconfin'd as beasts;
Allowing 'em to do all actions,

As freely as they drink when they desire.
Let me not hear you speak again; yet so
I shall but languish for the want of that,
The having which would kill me. No man here
Offer to speak for her; for I consider
As much as you can say; I will not toil
My body and my mind too; rest thou there;
Here's one within will labour for you both.
Pan. I would I were past speaking!
Gob. Fear not, madam;

The king will alter: 'Tis some sudden rage,
And you
shall see it end some other way.

Pan. Pray Heaven it do!

Tigr. Though she to whom I swore be here, I

Mar. Pray you, go rest yourself.

Enter a Gentleman.

Gent. Good-morrow, captain Bessus.
Bes. Good-morrow, sir.

Gent. I come to speak with you

Bes. You're very welcome.

Gent. From one that holds himself wrong'd

Bes. They talk of Fame; I have gotten it in the wars, and will afford any man a reasonable pennyworth. Some will say, they could be content to have it, but that it is to be atchieved with danger; but my opinion is otherwise: For if I might stand still in cannon-proof, and have Fame fall upon me, I would refuse it. My reputation came principally by thinking to run away, which nobody knows but Mardonius; and, I think, he conceals it to anger me. Before I went to the wars, I came to the town a young fellow, without means or parts to deserve friends; and my empty guts persuaded me to lie, and abuse people, for my meat; which I did, and they beat me. Then would I fast two days, till my hunger cried out on me, 'Rail still:" Then, methought, I had a monstrous stomach to abuse 'em again, and did it. In this state I continued, till they hung me up by th' heels, and beat me wi' hasle-sticks, as if they would have baked me, and have cozen'd some body wi' me for venison. After this I rail'd, and eat quietly: For the whole kingdom took notice of me for a baffled whip'd fellow, and what I said was remembered in mirth, but never in anger, of which I was glad. I would it were at that pass again! After this, Heaven call'd an aunt of mine, that left two hundred pounds in a cousin's hand for me; who, taking me to be a gallant young spirit, raised a company for me with the money, and sent me into Armenia with 'em. Away I would have run from them, but that I could get no company; and alone I durst not run. I was never at battle but once, and there I was running, but Mardonius cudgel'd me: Yet I got loose at last, but was so afraid that I saw no more than my shoulders do; but fled with my whole company amongst mine enemies, and overthrew 'em: Now the report of my valour is come over before me, and they say I was a raw young fellow, but now I am improv'd: A plague on their eloquence! 'twill cost me many a beating; and Mardonius might help this too, if he would; for now they think to get honour on me, and all the men I have abused call me freshly to account, (worthily, as they call it) by the way of challenge.

says, is fam'd, and he doth nothing doubt but you will do him right, as beseems a soldier.

Bes. A pox on 'em, so they cry all!

Gent. And a slight note I have about me for you, for the delivery of which you must excuse me: It is an office that friendship calls upon me to do, and no way offensive to you; since I desire but right on both sides.

Bes. 'Tis a challenge, sir, is it not?
Gent. 'Tis an inviting to the field.

Bes. An inviting? Oh, cry you mercy! what a compliment he delivers it with! he might, as agreeably to my nature, present me poison with such a speech. Um, um, um-Reputation-um, um, um-call you to account-um, um, um forced to this-um, um, um-with my swordum, um, um-like a gentleman-um, um, umdear to me-um, um, um-satisfaction. 'Tis very well, sir; I do accept it; but he must await an answer this thirteen weeks.

Gent. Why, sir, he would be glad to wipe off his stain as soon as he could.

Bes. Sir, upon my credit, I am already engaged to two hundred and twelve; all which must have their stains wip'd off, if that be the word, before him.

Gent. Sir, if you be truly engag'd but to one, he shall stay a competent time.

Bes. Upon my faith, sir, to two hundred and twelve: And I have a spent body, too much bruis'd in battle; so that I cannot fight, I must be plain, above three combats a-day. All the kindness I can shew him, is to set him resolvedly in my roll, the two hundred and thirteenth man, which is something: for, I tell you, I think there will be more after him than before him; I think so. Pray you commend me to him, and tell him this.

Gent. I will, sir.

Good-morrow to you.

[Exit Gentleman. Bes. Good-morrow, good sir. Certainly, my safest way were to print myself a coward, with a discovery how I came by my credit, and clap it upon every post. I have received above thirty challenges within this two hours: Marry, all but the first I put off with engagement; and, by good fortune, the first is no madder of fighting than I; so that that's referred. The place where it must be ended is four days journey off, and our arbitrators are these; he has chosen a gentleman in travel, and I have a special friend with a quartain ague, like to hold him this five years, for mine; and when his man comes home, we are to expect my friend's health. If they would send me challenges thus thick, as long as I liv'd, I

would have no other living: I can make seven shillings a-day o' th' paper to the grocers. Yet I learn nothing by all these, but a little skill in comparing of styles: I do find evidently, that there is some one scrivener in this town, that has a great hand in writing of challenges, for they are all of a cut, and six of 'em in a hand; and they all end, My reputation is dear to me, and I must require satisfaction.' Who's there? more paper, I hope. No; 'tis my lord Bacurius. I fear, all is not well betwixt us.

Bac. Tell not me of your engagements, captain Bessus! It is not to be put off with an excuse. For my own part, I am none of the multitude that believe your conversion from coward.

Bes. My lord, I seek not quarrels, and this belongs not to me; I am not to maintain it. Buc. Who, then, pray

y?

Bes. Bessus the coward wrong'd you.
Buc. Right.

Bes. And shall Bessus the valiant maintain what Bessus the coward did?

Bac. I prithee leave these cheating tricks! I swear thou shall fight with me, or thou shalt be beaten extremely, and kick'd.

Bes. Since you provoke me thus far, my lord, I will fight with you; and, by my sword, it shall cost me twenty pounds, but I will have my leg well a week sooner purposely.

Buc. Your leg? why, what ails your leg? I'll do a cure on you. Stand up!

Bes. My lord, this is not noble in you. Buc. What dost thou with such a phrase in thy mouth? I will kick thee out of all good words before I leave thee.

Bes. My lord, I take this as a punishment for the offence I did when I was a coward.

Bac. When thou wert? confess thyself a coward still, or, by this light, I'll beat thee into

sponge.

Bes. Why, I am one.

Bac. Are you so, sir? and why do you wear a sword then? Come, unbuckle! quick! Bes. My lord?

Bac. Unbuckle, I say, and give it me; or, as I live, thy head will ache extremely.

Bes. It is a pretty hilt; and if your lordship take an affection to it, with all my heart I present it to you, for a new-year's-gift.

Bac. I thank you very heartily, sweet captain! Farewell.

Bes. One word more: I beseech your lordship to render me my knife again.

Bac. Marry, by all means, captain. Cherish yourself with it, and eat hard, good captain! we cannot tell whether we shall have any more such. Adieu, dear captain! [Exit BAC.

Bes. I will make better use of this, than of my sword. A base spirit has this 'vantage of a brave one; it keeps always at a stay, nothing brings it down, not beating. I remember I promised the king, in a great audience, that I would make my back-biters eat my sword to a knife: How to get another sword I know not; nor know any means left for me to maintain my credit, but impudence: Therefore I will out-swear him and all his followers, that this is all that's left uneaten of my sword. [Exit BESSUS.

Enter MARDONIUS.

Mar. I'll move the king; he is most strangely alter'd: I guess the cause, I fear, too right. Heaven has some secret end in't, and 'tis a scourge, no question, justly laid upon him. He has follow'd me through twenty rooms; and ever, when I stay to wait his command, he blushes like a girl, and looks upon me as if modesty kept in his business; so turns away from me; but, if I go on, he follows me again.

Enter ARBACES.

See, here he is. I do not use this, yet, I know not how, I cannot choose but weep to see him : His very enemies, I think, whose wounds have bred his fame, if they should see him now, would find tears i' their eyes.

Arb. I cannot utter it! Why should I keep A breast to harbour thoughts I dare not speak? Darkness is in my bosom; and there lie A thousand thoughts that cannot brook the light. How wilt thou vex me, when this deed is done, Conscience, that art afraid to let me name it! Mar. How do you, sir?

Arb. Why, very well, Mardonius: How dost thou do?

Mar. Better than you, I fear.

Arb. I hope, thou art; for, to be plain with
thee,

Thou art in hell else! Secret scorching flames,
That far transcend earthly material fires,
Are crept into me, and there is no cure.
Is it not strange, Mardonius, there's no cure?
Mar. Sir, either I mistake, or there is some-
thing hid, that you would utter to me.

Arb. So there is; but yet I cannot do it. Mar. Out with it, sir. If it be dangerous, I will not shrink to do you service: I shall not esteem my life a weightier matter than indeed it is. I know 'tis subject to more chances than it has hours; and I were better lose it in my king's cause, than with an ague, or a fall, or (sleeping) to a thief; as all these are probable enough. Let me but know what I shall do for you.

Arb. It will not out! Were you with Gobrias, And bade him give my sister all content The place affords, and give her leave to send

Arb. Not a word:

But, if thou lov'st me, find some subtle way
To make her understand by signs.

Mar. But what shall I make her understand? Arb. Oh, Mardonius, for that I must be pardon'd.

Mar. You may; but I can only see her then. Arb. 'Tis true!

Bear her this ring, then; and, on more advice, Thou shalt speak to her: Tell her I do love My kindred all; wilt thou?

Mar. Is there no more?

Arb. Oh, yes! And her the best; Better than any brother loves his sister: That is all.

Mar. Methinks, this need not have been deliver'd with such a caution. I'll do it.

Arb. There is more yet: Wilt thou be faithful

to me?

Mar. Sir, if I take upon me to deliver it after I hear it, I'll pass thro' fire to do it.

Arb. I love her better than a brother ought. Dost thou conceive me?

Mar. I hope you do not, sir.

Arb. No! thou art dull. Kneel down before her,

And ne'er rise again, 'till she will love me.
Mar. Why, I think she does.

Arb. But, better than she does; another way; As wives love husbands.

Mar. Why, I think there are few wives that love their husbands better than she does you.

Arb. Thou will not understand me! Is it fit This should be utter'd plainly? Take it, then, Naked as 'tis: I would desire her love Lasciviously, lewdly, incestuously,

To do a sin that needs must damn us both;
And thee too. Dost thou understand me now?
Mar. Yes; there's your ring again. What have
I done

Dishonestly, in my whole life, name it,
That you should put so base a business to me?
Arb. Didst thou not tell me, thou wouldst do
it?

Mar, Yes, if I undertook it: But if all
My hairs were lives, I would not be engag'd
In such a cause to save my last life.

Arb. Oh, guilt, how poor and weak a thing art thou!

VOL. I.

This man, that is my servant, whom my breath
Might blow about the world, might beat me here,
Having this cause; whilst I, press'd down with
sin,

Could not resist him. Hear, Mardonius!
It was a motion mis-beseeming man,
And I am sorry for it.

Mar. Heav'n grant you may be so! You must understand, nothing that you can utter can re move my love and service from my prince; but, otherwise, I think, I shall not love you more: For you are sinful, and, if you do this crime, you ought to have no laws; for, after this, it will be great injustice in you to punish any offender, for any crime. For myself, I find my heart too big; I feel, I have not patience to look on, whilst you run these forbidden courses. Means I have none but your favour; and I am rather glad that I shall lose 'em both together, than keep 'em with such conditions. I shall find a dwelling amongst some people, where, though our garments perhaps be coarser, we shall be richer far within, and harbour no such vices in 'em. The gods preserve and mend you!

Arb. Mardonius! Stay, Mardonius! for, tho' My present state requires nothing but knaves To be about me, such as are prepar'd For every wicked act, yet who does know, But that my loathed fate may turn about, And I have use for honest men again? I hope, I may; I prithee leave me not. Enter BESSUS.

Bes. Where is the king?

Mar. There.