Philaster; Or, Love Lies a Bleeding. Beaumont Francis

Woman. But woo her still, and think her modesty

                      A sweeter mistress than the offer'd Language

                      Of any Dame, were she a Queen whose eye

                      Speaks common loves and comforts to her servants.

                      Last, noble son, (for so I now must call you)

                      What I have done thus publick, is not only

                      To add a comfort in particular

                      To you or me, but all; and to confirm

                      The Nobles, and the Gentry of these Kingdoms,

                      By oath to your succession, which shall be

                      Within this month at most.

      Thra. This will be hardly done.

      Cle. It must be ill done, if it be done.

      Di. When 'tis at best, 'twill be but half done, Whilst so brave a Gentleman's wrong'd and flung off.

      Thra. I fear.

      Cle. Who does not?

      Di. I fear not for my self, and yet I fear too:

                      Well, we shall see, we shall see: no more.

      Pha. Kissing your white hand (Mistress) I take leave,

                      To thank your Royal Father: and thus far,

                      To be my own free Trumpet. Understand

                      Great King, and these your subjects, mine that must be,

                      (For so deserving you have spoke me Sir,

                      And so deserving I dare speak my self)

                      To what a person, of what eminence,

                      Ripe expectation of what faculties,

                      Manners and vertues you would wed your Kingdoms?

                      You in me have your wishes. Oh this Country,

                      By more than all my hopes I hold it

                      Happy, in their dear memories that have been

                      Kings great and good, happy in yours, that is,

                      And from you (as a Chronicle to keep

                      Your Noble name from eating age) do I

                      Opine myself most happy. Gentlemen,

                      Believe me in a word, a Princes word,

                      There shall be nothing to make up a Kingdom

                      Mighty, and flourishing, defenced, fear'd,

                      Equall to be commanded and obey'd,

                      But through the travels of my life I'le find it,

                      And tye it to this Country. And I vow

                      My reign shall be so easie to the subject,

                      That every man shall be his Prince himself,

                      And his own law (yet I his Prince and law.)

                      And dearest Lady, to your dearest self

                      (Dear, in the choice of him, whose name and lustre

                      Must make you more and mightier) let me say,

                      You are the blessed'st living; for sweet Princess,

                      You shall enjoy a man of men, to be

                      Your servant; you shall make him yours, for whom

                      Great Queens must die.

      Thra. Miraculous.

      Cle. This speech calls him Spaniard, being nothing but A large inventory of his own commendations.

      [Enter Philaster.

      Di. I wonder what's his price? For certainly he'll tell himself he has so prais'd his shape: But here comes one more worthy those large speeches, than the large speaker of them? let me be swallowed quick, if I can find, in all the Anatomy of yon mans vertues, one sinew sound enough to promise for him, he shall be Constable. By this Sun, he'll ne're make King unless it be for trifles, in my poor judgment.

      Phi. Right Noble Sir, as low as my obedience, And with a heart as Loyal as my knee, I beg your favour.

      King. Rise, you have it Sir.

      Di. Mark but the King how pale he looks with fear. Oh! this same whorson Conscience, how it jades us!

      King. Speak your intents Sir.

      Phi. Shall I speak 'um freely?

                      Be still my royal Soveraign.

      King. As a subject

                      We give you freedom.

      Di. Now it heats.

      Phi. Then thus I turn

                      My language to you Prince, you foreign man.

                      Ne're stare nor put on wonder, for you must

                      Indure me, and you shall. This earth you tread upon

                      (A dowry as you hope with this fair Princess,

                      Whose memory I bow to) was not left

                      By my dead Father (Oh, I had a Father)

                      To your inheritance, and I up and living,

                      Having my self about me and my sword,

                      The souls of all my name, and memories,

                      These arms and some few friends, besides the gods,

                      To part so calmly with it, and sit still,

                      And