GOBRIAS

MY Lord Bacurius, you must have regard Unto the Queen, she is your prisoner, 'Tis at your peril if she make escape. So do I my Lord. I sorrow for her that so little grace Does govern her, that she should stretch her arm Against her King, so little womanhood And natural goodness, as to think the death Of her own Son. There is a Lady takes not after you, Her Father is within her, that good man Whose tears paid down his sins, mark how she weeps, How well it does become her; and if you Can find no disposition in your self To sorrow, yet by gracefulness in her Find out the way, and by your reason weep: All this she does for you, and more she needs, When for your self you will not loose a tear, Think how this want of grief discredits you, And you will weep, because you cannot weep: I know it is not: Why, is not all that's passed beyond your help? Nay, should you publish it Before the world, think you 'twill be believed? Nay, should I join with you, Should we not both be torn? and yet both die Uncredited? Why then Take you such violent courses? as for me, I do but right in saving of the King From all your plots. I bade you rest with patience, and a time Would come for me To reconcile all to your own content: But by this way you take away my power, And what was done unknown, was not by me, But you, your urging, being done, I must preserve mine own; but time may bring All this to light, and happily for all. Yes, 'tis most certain. The King is well, and will be here to morrow. Bacurius, I must ease you of your charge: Madam, the wonted mercy of the King That overtakes your faults, has met with this, And struck it out; he has forgiven you freely, Your own will is your Law, be where you please You will be ready To wait upon his Majesty to morrow? Good Captain Bessus, tell us the discourse Between Tigranes and our King, and how We God the victory. Captain, without the manner of your hurt be much material to this business, weel hear it some other time. Madam, what writes his Majesty to you? And to me He writes, what tears of joy he shed to hear How you were grown in every virtuous way, And yields all thanks to me, for that deer care Which I was bound to have in training you: There is no Princes living that enjoys A Brother of that worth. Yet I wonder much at this, he writes he brings a long with him a husband for you, that same Captive Prince; And if he love you as he makes a show, He will allow you freedom in your choice. Trust me, were I a Lady I could not Like That man were bargained with before I choose him. I think there is no Lady can affect Another Prince, your Brother standing by; He does eclipse men's virtues so with this. Why so you shall: my businesses are great, I will attend you when it is his pleasure To see you Madam. You will be ready Madam: Not very ill, Something unkindly she does take it Sir, To have her Husband chosen to her hands. Oh she is far from any stubbornness, You much mistake her, and no doubt will Like Where you will have her; but when you behold her, You will be loath to partly with such a Jewel. Sir, I know she is: But it were pity to make poor our Land With such a beauty, to enrich another. I think she will Sir. Heaven bring my purpose luckily to pass, You know 'tis joust: Sir, sheele not need constraint, She loves you so. She loves you more then people love their health That live by labour; more then I could love A man that died for me, if he could live again. Oh no, when you were in Armenia, I durst not let her know when you were hurt: For at the first on every little scratch, She kept her chamber, wept, and would not eat, Till you were well; and many times the news was so long coming, that before we herd, She was as near her death, as you your health. Sir, I have. why does not your Majesty speak? To the Princess. Sir, you should speak to her. Sir. Who Sir? Your Sister Sir? Some one that has a wit, answer; where is she? Where? There, where? No Sir. Thats she. Sir it is she: Is it? Do not mistake, And vex your self for nothing; for her death Is a long life of I hope: 'Tis she, And if my speech deserve not faith, lay death Upon me, and my latest words shall force A credit from you. That Lady Sir. Fear not Madam, The King will altar, 'tis some sudden change, And you shall see it end some other way. You will not let your sister Depart thus discontented from you Sir? Nay, 'tis well the King is pleased with it. Have you written Madam? And with a kindness, and sum h winning words As may provoke him at one instant fee e His double fault, your wrong, and his own rashness. Good Lady, be not fearful; if he should not Gi e vou your present end in this believe it You sha l feel (if your virtue can induce you To labour out this tem est, which I know Is but a poor proof gainst your patience ) All those contents your spirit will arrive at Newer and sweeter to you; your royal brother (When he shall once collect himself, and see How far e been asunder from himself, What a mere stranger to his golden temper) M st from those roots of virtue, (never dying Though somewhat stopped with humour) shoot again Into a thousand glories bearing his fa re branches High as our Hope's can look at straight as Justice, Laden with ri e contents: he loves you dearly, I know it, and I hope I need not further Win you to understand it. You shall not feel a vorse stroke then your grief, I am sorr 'tis so sharp: I kiss your hand, and this night will deliver this true story with this hand to your bro there. My service, and this letter to your grace. She is Sir till your pleasure do enlarge her, Which on my knees I beg; Oh 'tis not fit That all the sweetness of the world in one; The youth, and virtue, that would have wild Tigers And wilder people, that have known no manners Should live thus Cloysterd up, For your loves sake (If there be any in that Noble heart) To her a wretched Lady, and forlorn, Or for her love to you, (which is as much As Nature, and obedience ever gave) Have pity on her beauty's. I do beseech your Grace believe it not, For let me perish if it be not false: Good Sir read her letter. Then good Sir for her satisfaction Send for her, and with reason make her know Why she must live thus from you. Sir hers the Princess. Why Sir do you curse me thus? How Sir? Have I preserved you from a child, From all the arrows, malice or ambition Could shoot at you, and have I this for pay? What do you mean? This is true. This I grant, I think I was the cause. Sir I have a lie As I love God and honesty, I did: It was my meaning. Why Sir to die? Why wouldst thou live, was ever yet offendor So impudent, that had a thought of mercy After confession of a crime Like this? Get out I cannot, where thou hurlest me in, But I can take revenge, that's all the sweetness Left for me. Now is the time, hear me but speak. Sir, you shall know your sins before you do um If you kill me. Know you kill your Father. You kill your Father. I will tell you that shall heighten you again, I am thy Father, I charge thee hear me. You do not know why you curse thus. Why but you are no Baftard. Pray be more patient, I may bring comfort to you. First know our last King your supposed Father Was old and feeble when he married her, And almost all the Land as she passed hope Of issue from him. Forbear these starts, Or I will leave you wedded to despair, As you are now: if you can find a temper, My breath shall be a pleasant western wind, That cools, and blasts not. Our King I say was old, and this our Queen Desired to bring and heir; but yet her husband She thought was passed it, and to be dishonest I think she would not; if she would have been, The truth is, she was watched so narrowly, And had so slender opportunity, She hardly could have been: But yet her cunning Found out this way; she feigned her self with child, And posts were sent in haste throughout the Land, And God was humbly thanked in every Church, That so had blessed the Queen, and prayers were made For her safe going, and delivery: She feigned now to grow bigger, and perceived This hope of issue made her feared, and brought A far more large respect from every man, And saw her power increase, and was resolved, Since she believed she could not haue't indeed; At least she would be thought to have a child. Believe me 'tis no fury, All that he says is truth. There is the King, now it is ripe. Now when the time was full, She should be brought abed; I had a son Born, which was you: This the Queen hearing of, Moved me to let her have you, and such reasons She showed me as she knew would tie My secrecy: she sware you should be King; And oh be short, did deliue you Unto her, and pretended you we e dead; And in mine own house kept a Funeral, And had and emprie coffin put in earth: That night the Queen feigned hastily to labour, And by a pair of women of her own. Which she had charmed, she made the world believe She was delivered of you: you grew up As the Kings son till you were six year old; Then did the King die, and did leave to me Protection of the Realm; and contrary To his own expectation, left this Queen Truly with child indeed of the fair Princess Panthaea: Then she could have torn her heir, And did alone to me yet durst not speak In publi e; for she knew she should be found A Traitor, and her talk would have been thought Madness or any thing rather then truth: This was the only cause why she did seek To poison you, and I to keep you safe: And this the reason why I sought to kindle Some spark of love in you to fair Panthaea, That she might get partly of her right again. This is all. No. How does his Majesty? From the rich mine of virtue, and all beauty, Your mournful Sister.