                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. Gentlemen.

Enter Arethusa and a Lady.

Are. Comes he not?

La. Madam?

Are. Will Philaster come?

La. Dear Madam, you were wont
                To credit me at first.

Are. But didst thou tell me so?
                I am forgetful, and my womans strength
                Is so o'recharg'd with danger like to grow
                About my Marriage that these under-things
                Dare not abide in such a troubled sea:
                How look't he, when he told thee he would come?

La. Why, well.

Are. And not a little fearful?

La. Fear Madam? sure he knows not what it is.

Are. You are all of his Faction; the whole Court
                Is bold in praise of him, whilst I
                May live neglected: and do noble things,
                As fools in strife throw gold into the Sea,
                Drown'd in the doing: but I know he fears.

La. Fear? Madam (me thought) his looks hid more
                Of love than fear.

Are. Of love? To whom? to you?
                Did you deliver those plain words I sent,
                With such a winning gesture, and quick look
                That you have caught him?

La. Madam, I mean to you.

Are. Of love to me? Alas! thy ignorance
                Lets thee not see the crosses of our births:
                Nature, that loves not to be questioned
                Why she did this, or that, but has her ends,
                And knows she does well; never gave the world
                Two things so opposite, so contrary,
                As he and I am: If a bowl of blood
                Drawn from this arm of mine, would poyson thee,
                A draught of his would cure thee. Of love to me?

La. Madam, I think I hear him.

Are. Bring him in:
                You gods that would not have your dooms withstood,
                Whose holy wisdoms at this time it is,
                To make the passion of a feeble maid
                The way unto your justice, I obey.

[ Enter Phil.

La. Here is my Lord Philaster.

Are. Oh! 'tis well:
                Withdraw your self.

Phi. Madam, your messenger
                Made me believe, you wisht to speak with me.

Are. 'Tis true Philaster, but the words are such,
                I have to say, and do so ill beseem
                The mouth of woman, that I wish them said,
                And yet am loth to speak them. Have you known
                That I have ought detracted from your worth?
                Have I in person wrong'd you? or have set
                My baser instruments to throw disgrace
                Upon your vertues?

Phi. Never Madam you.

Are. Why then should you in such a publick place,
                Injure a Princess and a scandal lay
                Upon my fortunes, fam'd to be so great:
                Calling a great part of my dowry in question.

Phi. Madam, this truth which I shall speak, will be
                Foolish: but for your fair and vertuous self,
                I could afford my self to have no right
                To any thing you wish'd.

Are. Philaster, know
                I must enjoy these Kingdoms.

Phi. Madam, both?

Are. Both or I die: by Fate I die Philaster,
                If I not calmly may enjoy them both.

Phi. I would do much to save that Noble life:
                Yet would be loth to have posterity
                Find in our stories, that Philaster gave
                His right unto a Scepter, and a Crown,
                To save a Ladies longing.

Are. Nay then hear:
                I must, and will have them, and more.

Phi. What more?

Are. Or lose that little life the gods prepared, To trouble this poor piece of earth withall.

Phi. Madam, what more?

Are. Turn then away thy face.

Phi. No.

Are. Do.

Phi. I cannot endure it: turn away my face?
                I never yet saw enemy that lookt
                So dreadful, but that I thought my self
                As great a Basilisk as he; or spake
                So horribly, but that I thought my tongue
                Bore Thunder underneath, as much as his:
                Nor beast that I could turn from: shall I then
                Begin to fear sweet sounds? a Ladies voice,
                Whom I do love? Say you would have my life,
                Why, I will give it you; for it is of me
                A thing so loath'd, and unto you that ask
                Of so poor use, that I shall make no price
                If you intreat, I will unmov'dly hear.

Are. Yet for my sake a little bend thy looks.

Phi. I do.

Are. Then know I must have them and thee.

Phi. And me?

Are. Thy love: without which, all the Land Discovered yet, will serve me for no use, But to be buried in.

Phi. Is't possible?

Are. With it, it were too little to bestow
                On thee: Now, though thy breath doth strike me dead
                (Which know it may) I have unript my breast.

Phi. Madam, you are too full of noble thoughts,
                To lay a train for this contemned life,
                Which you may have for asking: to suspect
                Were base, where I deserve no ill: love you!
                By all my hopes I do, above my life:
                But how this passion should proceed from you
                So violently, would amaze a man, that would be jealous.

Are. Another soul into my body shot,
                Could not have fill'd me with more strength and spirit,
                Than this thy breath: but spend not hasty time,
                In seeking how I came thus: 'tis the gods,
                The gods, that make me so; and sure our love
                Will be the nobler, and the better blest,
                In that the secret justice of the gods
                Is mingled with it. Let us leave and kiss,
                Lest some unwelcome guest should fall betwixt us,
                And we should part without it.
                Phi. 'Twill be ill
                I should abide here long.

Are. 'Tis true, and worse
                You should come often: How shall we devise
                To hold intelligence? That our true lovers,
                On any new occasion may agree, what path is best to
                tread?

Phi. I have a boy sent by the gods, I hope to this intent,
                Not yet seen in the Court; hunting the Buck,
                I found him sitting by a Fountain side,
                Of which he borrow'd some to quench his thirst,
                And paid the Nymph again as much in tears;
                A Garland lay him by, made by himself,
                Of many several flowers, bred in the bay,
                Stuck in that mystick order, that the rareness
                Delighted me: but ever when he turned
                His tender eyes upon 'um, he would weep,
                As if he meant to make 'um grow again.
                Seeing such pretty helpless innocence
                Dwell in his face, I ask'd him all his story;
                He told me that his Parents gentle dyed,
                Leaving him to the mercy of the fields,
                Which gave him roots; and of the Crystal springs,
                Which did not stop their courses: and the Sun,
                Which still, he thank'd him, yielded him his light,
                Then took he up his Garland and did shew,
                What every flower as Country people hold,
                Did signifie: and how all ordered thus,
                Exprest his grief: and to my thoughts did read
                The prettiest lecture of his Country Art
                That could be wisht: so that, me thought, I could
                Have studied it. I gladly entertain'd him,
                Who was glad to follow; and have got
                The trustiest, loving'st, and the gentlest boy,
                That ever Master kept: Him will I send
                To wait on you, and bear our hidden love.

[ Enter Lady.

Are. 'Tis well, no more.

La. Madam, the Prince is come to do his service.

Are. What will you do Philaster with your self?

Phi. Why, that which all the gods have appointed out for me.

Are. Dear, hide thy self. Bring in the Prince.

Phi. Hide me from Pharamond! When Thunder speaks, which is the voice of Jove, Though I do reverence, yet I hide me not; And shall a stranger Prince have leave to brag Unto a forreign Nation, that he made Philaster hide himself?

Are. He cannot know it.

Phi. Though it should sleep for ever to the world,
                It is a simple sin to hide my self,
                Which will for ever on my conscience lie.

Are. Then good Philaster, give him scope and way
                In what he saies: for he is apt to speak
                What you are loth to hear: for my sake do.

Phi. I will.

[ Enter Pharamond.

Pha. My Princely Mistress, as true lovers ought,
                I come to kiss these fair hands; and to shew
                In outward Ceremonies, the dear love
                Writ in my heart.

Phi. If I shall have an answer no directlier,
                I am gone.

Pha. To what would he have an answer?

Are. To his claim unto the Kingdom.

Pha. Sirrah, I forbear you before the King.

Phi. Good Sir, do so still, I would not talk with you.

Pha. But now the time is fitter, do but offer To make mention of right to any Kingdom, Though it be scarce habitable.

Phi. Good Sir, let me go.

Pha. And by my sword.

Phi. Peace Pharamond: if thou—

Are. Leave us Philaster.

Phi. I have done.

Pha. You are gone, by heaven I'le fetch you back.

Phi. You shall not need.

Pha. What now?

Phi. Know Pharamond,
                I loath to brawl with such a blast as thou,
                Who art nought but a valiant voice: But if
                Thou shalt provoke me further, men shall say
                Thou wert, and not lament it.

Pha. Do you slight
                My greatness so, and in the Chamber of the Princess!

Phi. It is a place to which I must confess
                I owe a reverence: but wer't the Church,
                I, at the Altar, there's no place so safe,
                Where thou dar'st injure me, but I dare kill thee:
                And for your greatness; know Sir, I can grasp
                You, and your greatness thus, thus into nothing:
                Give not a word, not a word back: Farewell.

[Exit Phi.

Pha. 'Tis an odd fellow Madam, we must stop His mouth with some Office, when we are married.

Are. You were best make him your Controuler.

Pha. I think he would discharge it well. But Madam,
                I hope our hearts are knit; and yet so slow
                The Ceremonies of State are, that 'twill be long
                Before our hands be so: If then you please,
                Being agreed in heart, let us not wait
                For dreaming for me, but take a little stoln
                Delights, and so prevent our joyes to come.

Are. If you dare speak such thoughts,
                I must withdraw in honour.