What, you would not? i'faith, you look not with the face: When you have the skin, sir, what will you do with the case?
But, master prince, since you are come to this travailation, I'll bring you to my old master's convoculation, Where he hides himself, when I ran away: It's not far within these woods. How think you, sir, I pray?
PHIZANTIES.
Lead on the way, and I will follow thee.
LENTULO.
Why, then, come on, my valiant hearts, march on and follow me.
But I'll make this bargain first: hear you me what I say?
When I come home, you shall not let my master beat me for running away.
PHIZANTIES.
He shall not, I warrant thee.
LENTULO.
Why, then, my noble youths of oak, pluck up your hearts with me.
Will you come, sir I come on, i'faith: keep in order you thereby.
We shall find her i'faith, master prince, anon, I know, And then I'll trounce him for running away with another man's wife, I trow.
PENULO.
Stand, sir. Who lives a-sunning yonder? can you tell?
LENTULO.
It's a beggar with a rogue.
PHIZANTIES.
It is my daughter, I see full well.
HERMIONE.
Fidelia, be content: shrink not at all.
PHIZANTIES.
Strike not a stroke, my son.
PENULO.
For help I shall go run and call.
PHIZANTIES.
And art thou found, false traitor and untrue, Traitor to him that dealt so well with thee?
Did I devise to stop that would ensue, And found my cares such issue as I see?
I see I am abused too-too much, And too much sufferance is cause of this abuse: This high abuse of yours, as being such, Affords no cloak nor colour of excuse.
O, where is thankfulness and love become?
Where is the fear of princes' wrath exil'd?
Even this is the unhappiness of some, To be of them they trusted most beguil'd; But sometime pardon breeds a second ill.
Thou shameless wench, and thou false-hearted knight, By your unhappy deeds I learn this skill; But yet I list not kill thee, as I might.
Her will I have, and keep her as I may.
On pain of death I charge thee, hence away!
HERMIONE.
O prince, this sentence hath his force and strength, And dead I am that here appear to live; For how, alas! can this my life have length When she is hence, that life and sense doth give?
But since, alas! I must be only he, Whom Fortune vows to make a common game, Armenio, my foe, do this for me-- With my revenge to end my open shame.
To help thee to digest thine injury, Appease thee with Hermione's tragedy.
FIDELIA.
Far be the thought of that accursed deed, O sweet Hermione, my sweet Hermione!
Foul be his fall that makes thy body bleed, O sweet Hermione, my sweet Hermione!
And, father, this I vow: forgive it me, 1 will be sacrifice for this offence, And or I will have my Hermione, My chosen love, or never part from hence.
Him hath the destinies ordained mine, Most worthy me, your daughter, every way; Nor he to any will his choice resign-- No more my troubled thoughts will let me say.
PHIZANTIES.
What wilt thou, foolish girl and obstinate?
Say'st thou this treason is devis'd by fate?
That shall we try. Despatch her hence away.
Let's see who dares our princely will gainsay.
PENULO.
Sir, and you'll have us carry her, here be them come of the carriers.
LENTULO.
And you'll have us marry her, here be them come of the marriers.
PENULO.
Lord! I marvel to whose share this lady will fall: I am sure my part in her will be least of all.
VENUS _and_ FORTUNE _show themselves, and speak to_ PHIZANTIES, _while_ HERMIONE _standeth in amaze_.
VENUS.
High time it is that now we did appear, If we desire to end their misery.
FORTUNE.
Phizanties, stay, and unto us give ear.
What thou determin'st performed cannot be.
PHIZANTIES.
Dread goddess whatsoever of this place, If I herein have disobeyed thy grace, Of favour grant for to remit the same: Let me not suffer undeserved blame.
VENUS.
Phizanties, stand up; be of good cheer.
None but thy friends are met together here-- Thy friends, though goddesses in other things-- Yet interchange an alteration brings.
And now, whereas you seek in what you can To let your child to marry with this man, Know that it is the pleasure of our will, That they together be conjoined still.
For 'tis not so--he is not born so base As you esteem, but of a noble race.
His father is the good Bomelio, That sleepeth here oppress'd with woe, Whom Phalaris thy father, on a false report, In wrath and anger banished his court: But this is he, to whom thou wishest oft good, And this his son, born of a noble blood.
Think it no scorn to thee or thine hereafter To have his son espoused to thy daughter.
PHIZANTIES.
Right gracious goddess, if this be true indeed, As I believe, because from you it doth proceed, Then pardon me, for had I known it so, His son had never tasted of this woe.
Unwitting of his lineage till this time, Not,[134] presumed, sprung of a noble line.
Put[135] hence, and please your deities, my grief, Because my son is dumb without relief.
PENULO.