Philaster; Or, Love Lies a Bleeding

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 say I might have been! I tell thee Pharamond,
When thou art King, look I be dead and rotten,
And my name ashes; For, hear me Pharamond,
This very ground thou goest on, this fat earth,
My Fathers friends made fertile with their faiths,
Before that day of shame, shall gape and swallow
Thee and thy Nation, like a hungry grave,
Into her hidden bowels: Prince, it shall;
By Nemesis it shall.

Pha. He's mad beyond cure, mad.

Di. Here's a fellow has some fire in's veins:
The outlandish Prince looks like a Tooth-drawer.

Phi. Sir, Prince of Poppingjayes, I'le make it well appear
To you I am not mad.

King. You displease us.
You are too bold.

Phi. No Sir, I am too tame,
Too much a Turtle, a thing born without passion,
A faint shadow, that every drunken cloud sails over,
And makes nothing.

King. I do not fancy this,
Call our Physicians: sure he is somewhat tainted.

Thra. I do not think 'twill prove so.

Di. H'as given him a general purge already, for all the right he has, and now he means to let him blood: Be constant Gentlemen; by these hilts I'le run his hazard, although I run my name out of the Kingdom.

Cle. Peace, we are one soul.

Pha. What you have seen in me, to stir offence,
I cannot find, unless it be this Lady
Offer'd into mine arms, with the succession,
Which I must keep though it hath pleas'd your fury
To mutiny within you; without disputing
Your Genealogies, or taking knowledge
Whose branch you are. The King will leave it me;
And I dare make it mine; you have your answer.

Phi. If thou wert sole inheritor to him,
That made the world his; and couldst see no sun
Shine upon any but thine: were Pharamond
As truly valiant, as I feel him cold,