A King, and No King. Beaumont Francis

know I am unworthy, yet not ill arm'd, with which innocence here I will kneel, till I am one with earth, but I will gain some words and kindness from you.

      Tigr.

      Will you speak Sir?

      Arb.

      Speak, am I what I was?

      What art thou that dost creep into my breast,

      And dar'st not see my face? shew forth thy self:

      I feel a pair of fiery wings displai'd

      Hither, from hence; you shall not tarry there,

      Up, and be gone, if thou beest Love be gone:

      Or I will tear thee from my wounded breast,

      Pull thy lov'd Down away, and with thy Quill

      By this right arm drawn from thy wonted wing,

      Write to thy laughing Mother i'thy bloud,

      That you are powers bely'd, and all your darts

      Are to be blown away, by men resolv'd,

      Like dust; I know thou fear'st my words, away.

      Tigr.

      O misery! why should he be so slow?

      There can no falshood 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

      Poyson'd with anger, that it may strike me dead.

      Mar.

      Have you no life at all? for man-hood sake

      Let her not kneel, and talk neglected thus;

      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 sute 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.

      S'light, 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,

      Speak boldly to me; for I am a man,

      And dare not quarrel with Divinity;

      And do not think to cozen me with this:

      I see you all are mute and stand amaz'd,

      Fearful to answer me; it is too true,

      A decreed instant cuts off ev'ry life,