REGAN

Not all the world could lay a better plot, I long till it be put in practice. Oh, that my simple utterance could suffice, To tell the true intention of my heart, Which burns in zeal of duty to your grace, And never can be quenched, but by desire To show the same in outward for wardnesse. O, that there were some other maid that durst But make a challenge of her love with me Idem make her soon confess she never loved Her father half so well as I do you. I then, my deeds should prove in plainer case. How much my zeal aboundeth to your grace: But for them all, let this one mean suffice, To ratify my love before your eyes: I have right noble Suitors to my love, No worse then Kings, and happily I love one: Yet, would you have me make my choice anew, Idem bridle fancy, and be ruled by you. Dost thou not blush, proud Peacock as thou art, To make our father such a slight reply? Nay, here is one, that will confirm as much As she hath said, both for my self and her. I say, thou dost not wish my father's good. I was not much behind to do the Like. In truth, I think, the same that moves you; Because she does surpass us both in beauty. But we will keep her low enough, I warrant, And clip her wings for mounting up too hie. She were right fit to make a Parsons wife: For they, men say, do love fair women well, And many times do marry them with nothing. I mean, no money. As gold is welcome to the covetous eye, As sleep is welcome to the Traveller, As is fresh water to sea-beaten men, Or moistened showers unto the parched ground, Or any thing more welcomer then this, So and more welcome lovely Morgan is. How may I bless the hour of my nativity, Which bodeth unto me such happy Stars! How may I thank kind fortune, that vouchsafes To all my actions, such desired event! I rule the King of Cambria as I please: The States are all obedient to my will; And look what ere I say, it shall be so; Not any one, that dareth answer no. My eldest sister lives in royal state, And wants nothing fitting her degreet Yet hath she such a cooling carded withal, As that her honey savoureth much of gall, My father with her is quartermaster still, And many times restrains her of her will: But if he were with me, and served me so, Idem send him packing some where else to go, Idem entertain him with such slender cost, That he should quickly wish to change his host. No, I mistake not, sure it is my father: I must dissemble kindness now of force. Father, I bid you welcome, full of grief, To see your Grace used thus unworthily, And ill befitting for your reverend age, To come on foot a journey so endurable. O, what disaster chance hath been the cause, To make your cheeks so hollow, spare and lean? He cannot speak for weeping: for Gods love, come. Let us refresh him with some needful things, And at more leisure we may better know, Whence springs the ground of this unlooked for woe. Comes he to me with finger in the eye, To tell a tale against my sister here? Whom I do know, he greatly hath abused: And now Like a contentious crafty wretch, He first begins for to complain himself, When as himself is in the greatest fault. I'll not be partial in my sisters cause, Nor yet believe his doting vain reports: Who for a trifle (safely) I dare say, Upon a spleen is stolen thence away: And here (forsooth) he hopeth to have harbour, And to be moaned and made on Like a child: But ere't be long, his coming he shall curse, And truly say, he came from bade to worse: Yet will I make fair weather, to procure Convenient means, and then isle strike it sure. How fares our royal sister? Alas, poor soul, and hath he used her thus And is he now come hither, with intent To set divorce betwixt my Lord and me? Does he give out, that he does hear repore, That I do rule my husband as I list, And therefore means to altar so the case, That I shall know my Lord to be my head Well, it were best for him to take good heed, Or I will make him hop without a head, For his presumption, dotard that he is. In Cornwall he hath made such mutinies, First, setting of the King against the Queen; Then stirring up the Commons against the King; That had he there continued any longer, He had been called in question for his fact. So upon that occasion thence he fled, And comes thus slily stealing unto us: And now already since his coming hither, My Lord and he are grown in such a league, That I can have no conference with his Grace: I fear, he does already intimate Some forged cauillations'gainst my state: 'Tis therefore best to cut him off in time, Lest slanderous rumours once abroad dispersed, It is too late for them to be reversed. Friend, as the tennour of these letters shows, My sister puts great confidence in thee. Hast thou the heart to act a stratagem, And give a stab or two, if needs require? It is enough, we make no doubt of thee: Meet us to morrow here, at Nine a clock: Mean while, farewell, and drink that for my sake. My friend, I see thou mindest thy promise well, And art before me here, me thinks, to day. I. And yet that is not all. Thou must kill that old man that came with him. And for eke hand here is a recompense To morrow morning ere the break of day, I by a wile will send them to the thicket, That is about some two miles from the Court, And promise them to meet them there my self, Because I must have private conference, About some news I have received from Cornwall. This is enough, I know, they will not fail, And then be ready for to play thy partly: Which done, thou mayest right easily escape, And no man once mistrust thee for the fact: But yet, before thou prosecute the act, Show him the letter, which my sister sent, There let him read his own indictment first, And then proceed to exertion: But see thou faint not; for they will speak fair. About it then, and when thou hast dispatched, I'll find a means to send thee after him. All sorrow is but counterfeit to mine, Whose lips are almost sealed up with grief: Mine is the substance, while they do but seem To weep the less, which tears cannot redeem. Oh, never was herd so strange a misadventure, A thing so far beyond the reach of sense, Since no men reason in the cause can enter. What hath removed my father thus from hence? Oh, I do fear some charm or invocation Of wicked spirits, or infernal fiends, Stirred by Cordella, moves this innovation, And brings my father timeless to his end. But might I know, that the detested Witch Were certain cause of this uncertain ill, Myself to France would go in some disguise, And with these nails scratch out her hateful eyes: For since I am deprived of my father, I loath my life, and wish my death the rather. Frenchman, what is thy message to my father? Hence, saucy mate, reply no more to us; For law of Arms shall not protect thy tongue. How shall I live, to suffer this disgrace, At every base and vulgar peasants hands? It ill befitteth my imperial state, To be thus used, and no man take my partly. Nay, if you put up this, be sure, ere long, Now that my father thus is made away. Sheele come & claim a third partly of your Crown, As endue unto her by inheritance. I feel a hell of conscience in my breast, Tormenting me with horror for my fact, And makes me in and agony of doubt, For fear the world should find my dealing out. The slave whom I appointed for the act, I never set eye upon the peasant since: Oh, could I get him for to make him sure, My doubts would cease, and I should rest secure. But if the old men, with persuasive words, Have saved their lives, and made him to relent; Then are they fled unto the Court of France, And Like a Trumpet manifest my shame. A shame on these white-liuerd slaves, say I, That with fair words so soon are overcome. Oh God, that I had been but made a man; Or that my strength were equal with my will! These foolish men are nothing but mere pity, And melt as butter does against the Sun. Why should they have preeminence over us, Since we are creatures of more brave resolve? I swear, I am quite out of charity With all the heartless men in Christendom. A pox upon them, when they are afraid To give a stab, or slit a paltry Windpipe, Which are so easy matters to be done. Well, had I thought the slave would serve me so, My self would hau ̄ e been executioner: 'Tis now undone, and if that it be known, I'll make as good shift as I can for one. He that repines at me, how ere it stands, 'Twere best for him to keep him from my hands. 'Tis merely forged for a colours sake, To set a gloss on your invasion. Me thinks, and old man ready for to die, Should be ashamed to breach so foul a lie. I never herd a fouler spoken man. Think you to outface me with your paltry scrolls? You come to driven my husband from his right, Under the colour of a forged letter. What hours? what thicket? Alas, you are grown a child again with age, Or else your senses dote for want of sleep. What should I do? would it were in my power, To find a cure for this contagious ill: Some desperate medicine must be soon applied, To dim the glory of her mounting fame; Else ere't belong, shee'le have both prick and praise, And we must be set by for working days. Do you not see what several choice of Suitors She daily hath, and of the best degree? Say, amongst all, she hap to fancy one, And have a husband when as we have none: Why then, by right, to her we must give place, Though it be never so much to our disgrace. Swear not so deeply (sister) here continued ̄ meth my L. Skalliger Something his hasty coming does import. For Gods sake tell us what it is, my Lord, I am with child until you utter it. Oh that I had some pleasing Mermaids voice, For to inchant his senseless senses with! Now have we fit occasion offered us, To be revenged upon her vnperceyu'd. I'll say the Like: for I am well assured; What ever I say to please the old men mind. Who dotes, as if he were a child again; I shall enjoy the noble Cambrian Prince: Only, to feed his humour, will ffice, To say, I am content with any one Whom heel appoint me; this will please him more. Then ever Apollo's music pleased Jove. Plain dealing, sister: your beauty is so sheen, You needs no dowry, to make you be a Queen. Since time my father warned her from his presence, I never saw her, that I can remember. God giver her joy of her surpassing beauty; I think, her dowry will be small enough. In faith, poor soul, I pity her a little. Would she were less fair, or more fortunate. Well, I think long until I see my Morgan, The gallant Prince of Cambria, here arrive. Thanks, good my friend; but what imports thy message message Well, keep thy word with me, & thou shalt see, That of a poor man I will make thee rich. It is a thing of right strange consequence, And well I cannot utter it in words. Ah, good my friend, that I should have thee do, Is such a thing, as I do shame to speak; Yet it must needs be done. Oh, but my grief, Like to a swelling tied, Exceeds the bounds of common patience: Nor can I moderate my tongue so much, To conceal them, whom I hold in susect. In his absence you may trust us with your letters. There is good packing betwixt your King and you: You needs not hither come to ask for him, You know where he is better then our selves. Hath the young murdresse, your outrageous Queen, No means to colour her detested deeds, In finishing my guiltless father's days, (Because he gave her nothing to her dowry) But by the colour of a feigned Ambassage, To send him letters hither to our Court? Go carry them to them that sent them hither, And bid them keep their scrolls unto themselves: They cannot blind us with such slight excuse, To smother up so monstrous vild abuse. And were it not, it is against law of Arms, To offer violence to a Messenger, We would inflict such torments on thy self, As should enforce thee to reveal the truth.