PHYLANDER

Believe me fair Eurimine, my skill Is simple in discourse, and utterance ill: Orestes if he were disposed to try, Can better manage such affairs than I. Sometime there lived a Duke not far from hence, Mighty in fame, and virtues excellence, Subjects he had, as ready to obey As he to rule: beloved every way, But that which most of all he gloried in, (Hope of his age, and comfort of his kin,) Was the fruition of one only son, A gallant youth, inferior unto none For virtue, shape, or excellence of wit, That after him upon his throne might fit. This youth when once he came to perfect age, The Duke would feign have linked in marriage With diverse dams of honourable blood, But still his father's purpose he withstood. Yes apt enough, as will the sequel prove. But so the stream of his affection lay, As he did lean a quite contrary way, Disproving still the choice his father made, And oftentimes the matter had delayed: Now giving hope he would at length consent, And then again, excusing his intent. Another love, which this disorder breeds: For even at home within his father's Court The Saint was shrinde, whom he did honour most: A lovely dame, a virgin pure and chaste, And worthy of a Prince to be imbrac'te. Had but her birth (which was obscure they said) Answered her beauty, this their opinion stayed. Yet did this wilful youth affect her still, And none but she was mistress of his will. Full often did his father him dissuade, From liking such a mean and low born maid. The more his father strove to change his mind, The more the son became with fancy blind. As might even grieve the rude vnciuel'st men. When hereupon to wean his fixed heart From such dishonour, to his high desert, The Duke had laboured, but in vain did strive, Thus he began his purpose to contrive: Two of his servants of undoubted troth, He bound by virtue of a solemn oath, To train the silly damsel out of sighed, And there in secret to bereave her quite Yes Madame of her life, Which was the cause of all the former strife. You shall hear anon: The question first must be decided on In your opinion, whats your judgement? say, Who were most cruel: those that did obey, Or he that gave commandment for the fact? It is enough, we do accept your doom, To pass unblamed, what ere of you become. Eurymine, my trembling tongue does sail, My conscience irks, my fainting senses quail: My faltering speech bewrays my guilty thought, And stammers at the message we have brought. There is no remedy but you must die: By you I framed my tragic history. The Duke my master, is the man I meant, His son, the Prince, the maid of mean dissent Your self, on whom Ascanio so does dote, As for no reason may remove his thought: Your death the Duke determines by us two, To end the love betwixt his son and you: And for that cause we trainde you to this wood, Where you must sacrifice your dearest blood. We will afford that respite to your pain. O forbear thy stroke, Her piteous moan and gesture might provoke Hard flints to ruth. Forgotten it? no. A sudden terror overcomes my thought. O hold Orestes, hear my reason first. Orestes, if thou standest upon thine oath, Let me alone, to answer for us both. Nay villain, then my sword shall make me way. I will defend a woman while I live. A virgin, and and innocent beside, Therefore put up, or else thy chance abide. That will I do, if truth may be of force. A lawful oath in and unlawful cause, Is first dispensed withal, by reasons laws: Then next, respect must to the end be had, Because intent, does make it good or bade. Now here intent is murder as thou seest, Which to perform, thou on thy oath reliest: But since the cause is wicked and unjust, Effect must likewise be held odious. We swore to kill, and God forbids to kill: Shall we be ruled by him, or by men will? Beside it is a woman is condemde: And what is he that is a man indeed, That can endure to see a woman bleed? Why now thou seemest to be of humane mould. But on our grant fair maid that you shall live, Will you to us your faithful promise give, Henceforth t'abandon this your Country quite, And never more return into the sighed Of fierce Telemachus, the angry Duke, Whereby we may be void of all rebuke? Now wants there nothing, but a fit excuse, To sooth the Duke, in his conceived abuse: That he may be persuaded she is slain, And we our wonted favour still maintain. Then likewise take this Lawn, Which well Telemachus did know she wore: And let it be all spotted too with gore. How say you mistress, will you spare that vale? I would it were within my power, I wis, To do you greater courtesy then this: But what we cannot by our deeds express In heart we wish to ease your heaviness. Nor yet our death, if he in danger stood: And mistress, so good fortune be your guide. What is it thou? now by my troth well met. I little thought I should a found thee here. I prithee speak, what cheer? My meaning is, I feign would hear thee say, How thou dost man, why thou takest this another way. Believe me Ioculo, reasonable hard cheer. Shortly, now I have found thee. To whom? What shall it be? What meanest thou by that? Good words Ioculo, of your Lord & mine. Indifferently well. How? Dost thou wish so, for ought that he hath done? He's grown of late, as fatherly and mild, As ever father was unto his child: And sent me forth to search the coast about, If so my hap might be to find him out. And if Eurymine alive remain, To bring them both unto the Court again. Where is thy master? O that his Love Eurymine were found. My Lord & Madam, to requite your pain, Telemachus hath sent for you again. All former quarrels now are trodden down, And he does smile, that heretofore did frown. But Lady, first ere you your journey take, Vouchsafe at my request, one grant to make. Nay mistress, then since he denies the task My self will strait complish what you ask: And though the pleasure in my tale be small, Yet may it serve to pass the time withal.