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Whereto you tend. Fall rocks upon his head
That put this to you! 'tis some subtle train

To bring that noble frame of yours to nought.
Phi. Thou think'st I will be angry with thee. Come,
Thou shalt know all my drift: I hate her more 201
Than I love happiness, and placed thee there
To pry with narrow eyes into her deeds.

Hast thou discovered? is she fallen to lust,

As I would wish her? Speak some comfort to


Bel. My lord, you did mistake the boy you sent :
Had she the lust of sparrows or of goats,
Had she a sin that way, hid from the world,
Beyond the name of lust, I would not aid
Her base desires: but what I came to know
As servant to her, I would not reveal,
To make my life last ages.



Oh, my heart!


This is a salve worse than the main disease.
Tell me thy thoughts; for I will know the least
[Draws his sword.

That dwells within thee, or will rip thy heart
To know it: I will see thy thoughts as plain
As I do now thy face.

Why, so you do.
She is (for aught I know) by all the gods, [Kneels.
As chaste as ice! but were she foul as hell,
And I did know it thus, the breath of kings,



The points of swords, tortures, nor bulls of brass,
Should draw it from me.

Then it is no time

To dally with thee; I will take thy life,

For I do hate thee: I could curse thee now.
Bel. If you do hate, you could not curse me worse;
The gods have not a punishment in store
Greater for me than is your hate.

Fie, fie,
So young and so dissembling! Tell me when
And where thou didst enjoy her, or let plagues
Fall on me, if I destroy thee not!

Bel. By Heaven I never did; and when I lie

To save my life, may I live long and loathed!
Hew me asunder, and, whilst I can think,
I'll love those pieces you have cut away

Better than those that grow, and kiss those limbs
Because you made 'em so.


Fear'st thou not death?


Can boys contemn that?


Oh, what boy is he

Can be content to live to be a man,

That sees the best of men thus passionate,

Thus without reason?


What 'tis to die.


Oh, but thou dost not know


Yes, I do know, my lord : 'Tis less than to be born; a lasting sleep;


A quiet resting from all jealousy,

A thing we all pursue; I know, besides,
It is but giving over of a game

That must be lost.

But there are pains, false boy, For perjured souls: think but on these, and then Thy heart will melt, and thou wilt utter all. Bel. May they fall all upon me whilst I live, If I be perjured, or have ever thought Of that you charge me with! If I be false, Send me to suffer in those punishments You speak of; kill me!


Oh, what should I do?
Why, who can but believe him? he does swear
So earnestly, that if it were not true,


The gods would not endure him. [Sheathes his sword.
Rise, Bellario:

[Bellario rises.

Thy protestations are so deep, and thou

Dost look so truly when thou utter'st them,
That, though I know 'em false as were my hopes,
I cannot urge thee further. But thou wert
To blame to injure me, for I must love
Thy honest looks, and take no revenge upon
Thy tender youth: a love from me to thee
Is firm, whate'er thou dost : it troubles me
That I have called the blood out of thy cheeks,
That did so well become thee. But, good boy,
Let me not see thee more: something is done


That will distract me, that will make me mad,

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Shed at my hopeless parting, I can see

A world of treason practised upon you,

And her, and me. Farewell for evermore!

If you shall hear that sorrow struck me dead,
And after find me loyal, let there be
A tear shed from you in my memory,
And I shall rest at peace.


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Whatever thou deserv'st!

where shall I

Go bathe this body? Nature too unkind,
That made no medicine for a troubled mind!

Blessing be with thee,
[Exit Bellario.]—Oh,




Arethusa's Apartment in the Palace.

Enter Arethusa.

Are. I marvel my boy comes not back again :
But that I know my love will question him

Over and over,—how I slept, waked, talked,
How I remembered him when his dear name
Was last spoke, and how when I sighed, wept, sung,
And ten thousand such,—I should be angry at his

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King. What, at your meditations! Who attends you? Are. None but my single self: I need no guard;

I do no wrong, nor fear none.
King. Tell me, have you not a boy?

King. What kind of boy?

King. A handsome boy?


Yes, sir.


A page, a waiting-boy.

I think he be not ugly :

Well qualified and dutiful I know him ;
I took him not for beauty.

King. He speaks and sings and plays?

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Are. By your pardon, why do you ask?
King. Put him away.

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