Pun. i prithee do;

And if my brother were in any danger,
Let not thy tale make him abide there long,
Before thou bring him off; for all that while
My heart will beat.

Bes. Madam, let what will beat, I must tell the truth, and thus it was: They fought single in lists, but one to one. As for my own part, I was dangerously hurt but three days before; else, perhaps, we had been two to two; I cannot tell, some thought, we had. And the occasion of my hurt was this; the enemy had made trenches

Gob. Captain, without the manner of your hurt be much material to this business, we'll hear't some other time.

Pan. I prithee, leave it, and go on with my brother.

Bes. I will; but 'twould be worth your hearing. To the lists they came, and single sword and gauntlet was their fight.

Pan. Alas!

Bes. Without the lists there stood some dozen captains of either side mingled, all which were sworn, and one of those was I and 'twas my chance to stand next a captain o' the enemies' side, call'd Tiribasus; valiant, they said, he was. Whilst these two kings were stretching themselves, this Tiribasus cast something a scornful look on me, and ask'd me, whom I thought would overcome? I smil'd, and told him, if he would fight with me, he should perceive by the event of that whose king would win. Something he answer'd, and a scuffle was like to grow, when one Zipetus offered to help him: I

Pan. All this is of thyself: I pray thee, Bes

sus,

Tell something of my brother; did he nothing? Bes. Why, yes: I'll tell your grace. They were not to fight till the word given; which, for

my own part, by my troth, I confess, I was not to give.

Pan. See, for his own part!

Bac. I fear, yet, this fellow's abus'd with a good report.

Bes. But I

Pan. Still of himself!

Bes. Cry'd, Give the word;' when, as some of them say, Tigranes was stooping; but the word was not given then; yet one Cosroes, of the enemies' part, held up his finger to me, which is as much, with us martialists, as, ' I will fight with you?' I said not a word, nor made sign during the combat; but that once donePan. He slips o'er all the fight.

Bes. I call'd him to me; Cosroes, said I—
Pan. I will hear no more.
Bes. No, no, I lye.

Bac. I dare be sworn thou dost.
Bes Captain, said I; so it was.

Pan. I tell thee, I will hear no further.
Bes. No? Your grace will wish you had.
Pan. I will not wish it. What, is this the lady
My brother writes to me to take?

Bes. An't please your grace, this is she;
Charge, will you come near the princess?
Pun. You're welcome from your country;
and this land

Shall shew unto you all the kindnesses
That I can make it. What's your name?
Spa. Thalestris.
Pan. You're very welcome: You have got a

letter

To put you to me, that has power enough
To place mine enemy here; then much more you,
That are so far from being so to me,
That you ne'er saw me.

Bes. Madam, I dare pass my word for her
truth.
Spa. My truth?

Pan. Why, captain, do you think I am afraid she'll steal?

Bes. I cannot tell; servants are slippery; but I dare give my word for her And for honesty, she came along with me, and many favours she did me by the way; but, by this light, none but what she might do with modesty, to a man of my rank.

Pan. Why, captain, here's nobody thinks otherwise.

Bes. Nay, if you should, your grace may think your pleasure; but I am sure I brought her from Armenia, and in all that way, if ever I touch'd any bare of her above her knee, I pray God I may sink where I stand.

Spa. Above my knee ?

Bes. No, you know I did not; and if any man will say I did, this sword shall answer. Nay, I'll defend the reputation of my Charge, whilst I live. Your grace shall understand, I am secret in these businesses, and know how to defend a lady's honour.

Spa. I hope your grace knows him so well already, I shall not need to tell you he's vain and foolish.

Bes. Ay, you may call me what you please,

Longs more for any thing, and feels more heat
And cold within her breast, than I do now,
In hope to see him.

Gob. Yet I wonder much

At this: He writes, he brings along with him
A husband for you, that same captive prince;
And if he love you, as he makes a shew,
He will allow you freedom in a choice.

Pan. And so he will, my lord, I warrant you;
He will but offer, and give me the power
To take or leave.

Gob. Trust me, were I a lady,

I could not like that man were bargain'd with, Before I chose him.

Pan. But I am not built

On such wild humours; If I find him worthy, He is not less because he's offered.

Spa. 'Tis true he is not; 'would, he would seem less!

Gob. I think there is no lady can affect Another prince, your brother standing by ; He doth eclipse mens' virtues so with his.

Spa. I know a lady may, and more, I fear Another lady will.

Pan. 'Would I might see him!

Gob. Why so you shall. My businesses are great:

I will attend you when it is his pleasure to see

To leave his sceptre and his throne to him,
And take his rags to wander o'er the world,
Hungry and cold.

Pan. That were a strange request.
Spa. As ill is mine.

Pan. Then do not utter it.

Spa. Alas, 'tis of that nature, that it must Be utter'd, ay, and granted, or I die! I am ashamed to speak it; but where life Lies at the stake, I cannot think her woman, That will not talk something unreasonably To hazard saving of it. I shall seem A strange petitioner, that wish all ill To them I beg of, ere they give me aught; Yet so I must: I would you were not fair, Nor wise, for in your ill consists my good: If you were foolish, you would hear my prayer; If foul, you had not power to hinder me; He would not love you.

Pan. What's the meaning of it?

Spa. Nay, my request is more without the bounds

Of reason yet; for 'tis not in the power
Of you to do, what I would have you grant.
Pun. Why, then, 'tis idle. Prithee, speak it

Spa. 'Tis yet

His own desire; but when he sees your face,
I fear, it will not be; therefore I charge you,
As you have pity, stop those tender ears
From his enchanting voice; close up those eyes,
That you may neither catch a dart from him,
Nor he from you. I charge you, as you hope
To live in quiet; for when I am dead,
For certain I will walk to visit him,
If he break promise with me: For as fast
As oaths, without a formal ceremony,
Can make me, I am to him.

Pan. Then be fearless;

For if he were a thing 'twixt God and man,

Enter three Men and a Woman.

1 Man. Come, come, run, run, run. 2 Man, We shall out-go her.

3 Man. One were better be hang'd than carry out women fiddling to these shows.

Wom. Is the king hard by?

What

1 Man. You heard he with the bottles said, he thought we should come too late. abundance of people here is !

Wom. But what had he in those bottles?

3 Man. I know not.

2 Man. Why, ink, goodman fool.

3 Man. Ink, what to do?

1 Man. Why, the king, look you, will many times call for those bottles, and break his mind to his friends.

Wom. Let's take our places; we shall have no room else.

2 Man. The man told us, he would walk o' foot through the people.

3 Man. Ay, marry, did be.

1 Man. Our shops are well look'd-to now. 2 Man. 'Slife, yonder's my master, I think. 1 Man. No, 'tis not he.

Enter PHILIP, with two Citizens' Wives.

1 Cit. Lord, how fine the fields be. What sweet living 'tis in the country!

2 Cit. Ay, poor souls, God help 'em, they live as contentedly as one of us.

1 Cit. My husband's cousin would have had me gone into the country last year. Wert thou ever there?

2 Cit. Ay, poor souls, I was amongst 'em once. 1 Cit. And what kind of creatures are they, for love of God?

2 Cit. Very good people, God help 'em. 1 Cit. Wilt thou go down with me this summer when I am brought to-bed?

2 Cit. Alas, it is no place for us. 1 Cit. Why, prithee?

Cit. They are fain to milk themselves i' the country.

1 Cit. Good lord! But the people there, I think, will be very dutiful to one of us.

2 Cit. Ay, God knows will they; and yet they do not greatly care for our husbands.

1 Cu. Do they not? alas! i' good faith, I cannot blame them: For we do not greatly care for them ourselves. Philip, I pray, chuse us a place.

Phil. There's the best, forsooth.

1 Cit. By your leave, good people, a little. 3 Man. What's the matter?

Phil. I pray you, my friend, do not thrust my mistress so; she's with child.

2 Man. Let her look to herself then; has she not had thrusting enough yet! If she stay shouldering here, she may, haps, go home with a cake in her belly.

3 Man. How now, goodman Squitter-breech! why do you lean on me?

Phil. Because I will.

3 Man. Will you, Sir Sauce-box?

1 Cit. Look, if one ha' not struck Philip. Come hither, Philip; why did he strike thee? Phil. For leaning on him.

1 Cit. Why didst thou lean on him?

Phil. I did not think he would have struck me. 1 Cit. As God save me, la, thou'rt as wild as a buck; there's no quarrel, but thou'rt at one end or other on't.

3 Man. It's at the first end then, for he'll ne'er stay the last.

1 Cit. Well, Slip-string, I shall meet with you. 3 Man. When you will.

1 Cit. I'll give a crown to meet with you. 3 Man. At a bawdy-house.

Cit. Ay, you're full of your roguery; but if I do meet you, it shall cost me a fall.

Flourish. Enter one running.

4 Man. The king, the king, the king, the king! Now, now, now, now!

Flourish. Enter ARBACES, TIGRANES, and MARDONIUS.

All. God preserve your majesty !

Arb. I thank you all. Now are my joys at full,
When I behold you safe, my loving subjects.
By you I grow; 'tis your united love
That lifts me to this height.

All the account that I can render you
For all the love you have bestow'd on me,
All your expences to maintain my war,
Is but a little word: You will imagine
'Tis slender payment; yet 'tis such a word
As is not to be bought but with your bloods:
'Tis peace!

All. God preserve your majesty!

Arb. Now you may live securely i' your towns,

there's nobody cries brooms.

1 Cit. No?

2 Cit. No truly, nor milk.

1 Cit. Nor milk! how do they?

Safely forget there are such things as tears:
And you may all, whose good thoughts I have
gain'd,

Hold me unworthy, when I think my life
A sacrifice too great to keep you thus
In such a calm estate!

All God bless your majesty!

Arb. See, all good people; I have brought the

man,

Whose very name you fear'd, a captive home.
Behold him; 'tis Tigranes! In your hearts
Sing songs of gladness and deliverance.
1 Cit. Out upon him!

2 Cit. How he looks.

s Wom. Hang him, hang him!
Mar. These are sweet people.
Tigr. Sir, you do me wrong,
To render me a scorned spectacle
To common people.

Arb. It was far from me

To mean it so. If I have aught deserv'd,

My loving subjects, let me beg of you

Not to revile this prince, in whom there dwells
All worth, of which the nature of a man
Is capable; valour beyond compare:
The terror of his name has stretch'd itself
Where-ever there is sun: And yet for you
I fought with him single, and won him too.
I made his valour stoop, and brought that name,
Soar'd to so unbeliev'd a height, to fall
Beneath mine. This, inspir'd with all your loves,
I did perform; and will, for your content,
Be ever ready for a greater work.

All. The Lord bless your majesty ! Tigr. So, he has made me amends now with a speech in commendation of himself: I would not be so vain-glorious.

Arb. If there be any thing in which I may Do good to any creature here, speak out;

For I must leave you: And it troubles me,
That my occasions, for the good of you,
Are such as call me from you: Else, my joy
Would be to spend my days among you all.
You shew your loves in these large multitudes
That come to meet me. I will pray for you. ▾
Heaven prosper you, that you may know old

years,

And live to see your childrens children

Sit at your boards with plenty! When there is
A want of any thing, let it be known
To me, and I will be a father to you.
God keep you all!

[Flourish. Exeunt Kings and their Train. All. God bless your majesty, God bless your majesty !

1 Man. Come, shall we go? all's done.
Wom. Ay, for God's sake: I have not made a
fire yet.

2 Man. Away, away! all's done.
3 Man. Content. Farewell, Philip.
1 Cit. Away, you halter-sack, you!

2 Man. Philip will not fight; he's afraid on's

face.

Phil. Ay, marry; am I afraid of my face? 3 Man. Thou wouldst be, Philip, if thou saw'st it in a glass; it looks so like a visor.

[Exeunt the three men and woman.

1 Cit. You'll be hang'd, sirrah. Come, Philip, walk before us homewards. Did not his majesty say he had brought us home peas for all our money?

2 Cit. Yes, marry, did he.

Cit. They're the first I heard of this year, by my troth. I long'd for some of 'em. Did he not say, we should have some?

2 Cit. Yes, and so we shall anon, I warrant you, have every one a peck brought home to our houses.

[Exeunt.

Enter ARBACES and GOBRIAS.

Arb. My sister take it ill?
Gob. Not very ill:

Something unkindly she does take it, sir,
To have her husband chosen to her hands.
Arb. Why, Gobrias, let her: I must have her
know,

My will, and not her own, must govern her.
What, will she marry with some slave at home?

Gob. Oh, she is far from any stubbornness ; You much mistake her; and, no doubt, will like Where you will have her. But, when you behold

Arb. Were she my father, and my mother too, And all the names for which we think folks friends, She should be forced to have him, when I know 'Tis fit. I will not hear her say, she's loth.

Gob. Heaven, bring my purpose luckily to pass!

You know 'tis just.—She will not need constraint, She loves you so.

Arb. How does she love me? Speak.

Gob. She loves you more than people love their health,

That live by labour; more than I could love
A man that died for me, if he could live
Again.

Arb. She is not like her mother, then.
Gob. Oh, no! When you were in Armenia,
I durst not let her know when you were hurt :
For at the first, on every little scratch,

She kept her chamber, wept, and could not eat,
Till you were well; and many times the news
Was so long coming, that, before we heard,
She was as near her death, as you your health.
Arb. Alas, poor soul! But yet she must be
rul'd.

I know not how I shall requite her well.
I long to see her: Have you sent for her,
To tell her I am ready?

Gob. Sir, I have.

Enter 1 Gentleman and TIGRANES.

1 Gent. Sir, here is the Armenian king. Arb. He's welcome.

1 Gent. And the queen-mother and the princess wait

Without.

Arb. Good Gobrias, bring 'em in.

[Erit GOBRIAS. Tigranes, you will think you are arrived In a strange land, where mothers cast to poison Their only sons: Think you, you shall be safe? Tigr. Too safe I am, sir.

Enter GOBRIAS, ARANE, PANTHEA, SPACONIA, BACURIUS, MARDONIUS, BESSUS, and two Gentlemen.

Tigr. Will you speak, sir?

Arb. Speak! am I what I was?
What art thou, that dost creep into my breast
And darʼst not see my face? Shew forth thyself.
I feel a pair of fiery wings display'd

Hither, from thence. You shall not tarry there!
Up, and be gone; if thou be'st love, be gone!
Or I will tear thee from my wounded breast,
Pull thy loved down away, and with a quill
By this right arm drawn from thy wanton wing,
Write to thy laughing mother i' thy blood,
That you are powers bely'd, and all your darts
Are to be blown away, by men resolved,
Like dust. I know thou fear'st my words; away!

Tigr. Oh, misery! why should he be so slow!
There can no falsehood come of loving her.
Though I have given my faith, she is a thing
Both to be lov'd and serv'd beyond my faith.
I would, he would present me to her quickly.

Pan. Will you not speak at all? Are you so

far

From kind words? Yet, to save my modesty,
That must talk till you answer, do not stand
As you were dumb; say something, though it be
Poison'd with anger that may strike me dead.

Mar. Have you no life at all? For manhood sake,

Thankful for all your mercies.

Arb. Oh, stand up,

And let me kneel! the light will be ashamed
To see observance done to me by you.
Ara. You are my king.

Arb. You are my mother. Rise!

As far be all your faults from your own soul,
As from my memory; then you shall be
As white as Innocence herself.

A tree would find a tongue to answer her,
Did she but give it such a lov'd respect.

Arb. You mean this lady. Lift her from the earth:

Why do you let her kneel so long? Alas!
Madam, your beauty uses to command,
And not to beg. What is your suit to me?
It shall be granted; yet the time is short,
And my affairs are great. But where's my sister?
I bade, she should be brought.

Mar. What, is he mad?

Arb. Gobrias, where is she?

Gob. Sir!

Arb. Where is she, man?

Gob. Who, sir?

Arb. Who? hast thou forgot my sister?
Gob. Your sister, sir?

Arb. Your sister, sir? Some one that hath a wit, Answer, where is she?

Gob. Do you not see her there?
Arb. Where?

Gob. There.

Arb. There? where?

Mar. 'Slight there! are you blind?

Arb. Which do you mean? That little one? Gob. No, sir.

Arb. No, sir? Why, do you mock me? I can

see

No other here, but that petitioning lady. Gob. That's she.

Arb. Away!

Gob. Sir, it is she.

Arb. 'Tis false.

Gob. Is it?

Arb. As Hell! By Heaven, as false as Hell! My sister!-Is she dead? If it be so,