If thou didst mean to flatter, and shouldst utter Words in my praise, that thou thought'st impudence,

My deeds should make 'em modest. When you

praise,

I hug you? 'Tis so false, that, wert thou worthy, Thou shouldst receive a death, a glorious death, From me! But thou shalt understand thy lyes; For, shouldst thou praise me into Heav'n, and there

Leave me inthron'd, I would despise thee then As much as now, which is as much as dust, Because I see thy envy.

Mar. However you will use me after, yet for your own promise sake, hear me the rest.

Arb. I will, and after call unto the winds;
For they shall lend as large an ear as I
To what you utter. Speak!

Mar. Would you but leave these hasty tempers, which I do not say take from you all your worth, but darken it, then you will shine indeed. Arb. Well.

Mar. Yet I would have you keep some passions, lest men should take you for a god, your virtues are such.

Arb. Why, now you flatter.

Mar. I never understood the word. Were you no king, and free from these moods, should I chuse a companion for wit and pleasure, it should be you; or for honesty to interchange my bosom with, it should be you; or wisdom to give me counsel, I would pick out you; or valour to defend my reputation, still I should find you out; for you are fit to fight for all the world, if it could come in question. Now I have spoke: Consider to yourself; find out a use; if so, then what shall fall to me is not material.

Arb. Is not material? More than ten such
lives

As mine, Mardonius! It was nobly said;
Thou hast spoke truth, and boldly such a truth
As might offend another. I have been
Too passionate and idle; thou shalt see

A swift amendment. But I want those parts
You praise me for: I fight for all the world!
Give thee a sword, and thou wilt go as far
Beyond me, as thou art beyond in years;
I know thou dar'st and wilt. It troubles me
That I should use so rough a phrase to thee:
Impute it to my folly, what thou wilt,
So thou wilt pardon me. That thou and I
Should differ thus !

Mar. Why, 'tis no matter, sir.

Arb. Faith, but it is: But thou dost ever take All things I do thus patiently; for which I never can requite thee, but with love;

And that thou shalt be sure of. Thou and I Have not been merry lately: Prithee tell me, Where hadst thou that same jewel in thine ear? Mar. Why, at the taking of a town.

Arb. A wench, upon my life, a wench, Mardonius, gave thee that jewel.

Mar. Wench! They respect not me; I'm old and rough, and every limb about me, but that which should, grows stiffer. I' those businesses,

I may swear I am truly honest; for I pay justly for what I take, and would be glad to be at a certainty.

Arb. Why, do the wenches encroach upon thee?

Mar. Ay, by this light, do they.

Arb. Didst thou sit at an old rent with 'em? Mar. Yes, faith.

Arb. And do they improve themselves? Mar. Ay, ten shillings to me, every new young fellow they come acquainted with.

Arb. How canst live on't?

Mar. Why, I think, I must petition to you.
Arb. Thou shalt take them up at my price.

Enter two Gentlemen and BESSUS.
Mar. Your price?

Arb. Ay, at the king's price.

Mar. That may be more than I'm worth. 2 Gent. Is he not merry now?

1 Gent. I think not.

Bes. He is, he is: We'll shew ourselves.

Arb. Bessus! I thought you had been in Iberia by this; I bade you haste; Gobrias will want entertainment for me.

Bes. An please your majesty, I have a suit,
Arb. Is't not lousy, Bessus? What is't?
Bes. I am to carry a lady with me.
Arb. Then thou hast two suits.

Bes. And if I can prefer her to the lady Panthea, your majesty's sister, to learn fashions, as her friends term it, it will be worth something

to me.

Arb. So many nights' lodgings as 'tis thither; will't not?

Bes. I know not that, sir; but gold I shall be sure of.

Arb. Why, thou shalt bid her entertain her from me, so thou wilt resolve me one thing. Bes. If I can.

Arb. Faith, 'tis a very disputable question; and yet, I think, thou canst decide it.

Bes. Your majesty has a good opinion of my understanding.

Arb. I have so good an opinion of it: 'Tis, whether thou be valiant.

Bes. Somebody has traduced me to you: Do you see this sword, sir?

Arb. Yes.

Bes. If I do not make my back-biters eat it to a knife within this week, say I am not valiant. Enter a Messenger.

Mes. Health to your majesty!
Arb. From Gobrias?
Mes. Yes, sir.

Arb. How does he? is he well?
Mes. In perfect health.

Arb. Take that for thy good news.
A trustier servant to his prince there lives not,
Than is good Gobrias.

1 Gent. The king starts back. Mar. His blood goes back as fast. 2 Gent. And now it comes again. Mar. He alters strangely.

Arb. The hand of Heaven is on me: Be it far
From me to struggle! If my secret sins
Have pull'd this curse upon me, lend me tears
Enow to wash me white, that I may feel
A child-like innocence within my breast!
Which, once perform'd, oh, give me leave to
stand

As fix'd as constancy herself; my eyes
Set here unmov'd, regardless of the world,
Though thousand miseries encompass me!
Mar. This is strange! Sir, how do you?
Arb. Mardonius! my mother-
Mar. Is she dead?

Arb. Alas, she's not so happy! Thou dost know

How she hath labour'd, since my father died,
To take by treason hence this loathed life,
That would but be to serve her. I have par-
don'd,

And pardon'd, and by that have made her fit
To practise new sins, not repent the old.
She now had hir'd a slave to come from thence,
And strike me here; whom Gobrias, sifting out,
Took, and condemn'd, and executed there.
The careful'st servant! Heav'n, let me but live
To pay that man! Nature is poor to me,
That will not let me have as many deaths
As are the times that he hath sav'd my life,
That I might die 'em over all for him.

Mur. Sir, let her bear her sins on her own
head;

Vex not yourself.

Arb. What will the world

Conceive of me? with what unnatural sins
Will they suppose me loaden, when my life
Is sought by her, that gave it to the world?
But yet he writes me comfort here: My sister,
He says, is grown in beauty and in grace;
In all the innocent virtues that become
A tender spotless maid: She stains her cheeks
With mourning tears, to purge her mother's ill;
And 'mongst that sacred dew she mingles pray'rs,
Her pure oblations, for my safe return.
If I have lost the duty of a son;
If any pomp or vanity of state
Made me forget my natural offices;
Nay, further, if I have not every night
Expostulated with my wand'ring thoughts,
If aught unto my parent they have err'd,
And call'd 'em back; do you direct her arm
Unto this foul dissembling heart of mine.
But if I have been just to her, send out
Your pow'r to compass me, and hold me safe
From searching treason; I will use no means
But prayer: For, rather suffer me to see
From mine own veins issue a deadly flood,
Than wash my danger off with mother's blood.
Mar. I never saw such sudden extremities.
[Exeunt.

Enter TIGRANES and SPACONIA.
Tigr. Why, wilt thou have me die, Spaconia?
What should I do?

Spa. Nay, let me stay alone; And when you see Armenia again,

And I have given gold unto a captain,
That goes unto Iberia from the king,
That he will place a lady of our land
With the king's sister that is offer'd me;
Thither shall you, and, being once got in,
Persuade her, by what subtle means you can,
To be as backward in her love as I.

Spa. Can you imagine that a longing maid,
When she beholds you, can be pull'd away
With words from loving you?

Tigr. Dispraise my health,
My honesty, and tell her I am jealous.

Spa. Why, I had rather lose you: Can my

Bes. What, is your majesty ready? Tigr. There is the lady, captain. Bes. Sweet lady, by your leave. I could wish myself more full of courtship for your fair sake. Spa. Sir, I shall feel no want of that.

Bes. Lady, you must haste; I have receiv'd new letters from the king, that require more haste than I expected; he will follow me suddenly himself; and begins to call for your majesty already.

Tigr. He shall not do so long.

Bes. Sweet lady, shall I call you my Charge hereafter?

Spa. I will not take upon me to govern your tongue, sir: You shall call me what you please.

[Exeunt,

Eater GOBRIAS, BACURIUS, ARANE, Panthea, and MANDANE, waiting-woman, with attendants.

Gob. My lord Bacurius, you must have regard

Unto the queen; she is your prisoner ; 'Tis at your peril, if she make escape.

Bac. My lord, I know't; she is my prisoner, From you committed: Yet she is a woman; And, so I keep her safe, you will not urge me To keep her close. I shall not shame to say,

I sorrow for her.

Gob. So do I, my lord:

I sorrow for her, that so little grace
Doth govern her, that she should stretch her

arm

Against her king; so little womanhood
And natural goodness, as to think the death
Of her own son.

Ara. Thou know'st the reason why,
Dissembling as thou art, and wilt not speak.

Gob. There is a lady takes not after you;
Her father is within her; that good man,
Whose tears weigh'd down his sins. Mark, how
she weeps;

How well it does become her! And if you
Can find no disposition in yourself
To sorrow, yet, by gracefulness in her,
Find out the way, and by your reason weep.
All this she does for you, and more she needs,
When for yourself you will not lose a tear.
Think, how this want of grief discredits you;
And you will weep, because you cannot weep.
Ara. You talk to me, as having got a time
Fit for your purpose; but, you know, I know
You speak not what you think.

Pan. I would my heart

Were stone, before my softness should be urg'd
Against my mother! A more troubled thought
No virgin bears about! Should I excuse
My mother's fault, I should set light a life,
In losing which a brother and a king
Were taken from me: If I seek to save
That life so lov'd, I lose another life,
That gave me being; I shall lose a mother;
A word of such a sound in a child's ear,
That it strikes reverence through it. May the
will

Of Heav'n be done, and if one needs must fall,
Take a poor virgin's life to answer all!

Ara. But, Gobrias, let us talk. You know, this fault

Is not in me as in another mother.

Gob. I know it is not.

Ara. Yet you make it so.

Gob. Why, is not all that's past beyond your help?

Ara. The king!

Gob. I bade you rest

With patience, and a time would come for me
To reconcile all to your own content:
But, by this way, you take away my pow'r.
And what was done, unknown, was not by me,
But you; your urging. Being done,

I must preserve my own; but time may bring
All this to light, and happily for all.

Ara. Accursed be this over-curious brain, That gave that plot a birth! Accurs'd this womb, That after did conceive, to my disgrace!

Bac. My lord-protector, they say, there are divers letters come from Armenia, that Bessus has done good service, and brought again a day by his particular valour: Receiv'd you any to that effect?

Gob. Yes; 'tis most certain.

Bac. I'm sorry for't; not that the day was won, but that 'twas won by him. We held him here a coward: He did me wrong once, at which I laugh'd, and so did all the world; for not I, nor any other, held him worth my sword.

Enter BESSUS and SPACONIA.

Bes. Health to my lord-protector! From the king these letters; and to your grace, madam, these. Gob. How does his majesty?

Bes. As well as conquest, by his own means and his valiant commanders, can make him: Your letters will tell you all.

Pan. I will not open mine, till I do know My brother's health: Good captain, is he well? Bes. As the rest of us that fought are. Pan. But how's that? is he hurt?

Bes. He's a strange soldier that gets not a knock.

Pan. I do not ask how strange that soldier is That gets no hurt, but whether he have one. Bes. He had divers.

Pan. And is he well again?

Bes. Well again, an't please your grace. Why, I was run twice through the body, and shot i'th' head with a cross-arrow, and yet am well again. Pan. I do not care how thou do'st: Is he well?

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.

Pun. 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: IPan. 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

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—
Pun. 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 sink where I stand. Spa. Above my knee?

may

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 seeret 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,

He writes, what tears of joy he shed, to hear
How you were grown in every virtuous way;
And yields all thanks to me, for that dear care
Which I was bound to have in training you.
There is no princess living that enjoys
A brother of that worth.

Pan. My lord, no maid

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.
Pan. 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 cars
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,