PHILOCLES

Envy will say she's rare, then truth must vow, She is beyond compare, sith in her looks, Each motion hath a speaking majesty, She is herself, compared with her self: For but her self, she hath no companion. But when I think of beauty, wit and grace, The elements of active delicacy, Those all eie-pleasing harmonies of sighed Which do inchant men's fancies, and stir up The life blood of dull earth, Oh then methinks, Fair Mariana hath and equal place And if not outshine, it shows more beautiful. More in the gloss of beauty, less in worth, Of wisdom and great thoughts, the one I find was made for wonder, th'other for admire. I am less then my thoughts, more then my self, Yet nothing but the creature of my fate, By name my nature only is obscured, And yet the world baptised me Philocles. My entrance here is proof of holy zeal, And to maintain that no severe disdain, False shape of chastity, nor woman's will, Neglective petula ̄ ce, or uncertain hope, Foul vizard coins, nor seducing fame Should rob the royal temper of true love From the desired aim of his desires, Which my best blood shall witness, or this field Entomb my body made a recreant. I crave the Queens conditions, or this blow Sends this afflicted soul to heaven or hell. Speak madame, will you yield or shall he die? Oh t'is but glass, And cannot bear this axes massiness. Duke, thy brave words that second thy brave deeds, Fills me with emulation, only we two Stand equal victor's; then if thou hast that tie And bound of well knit valour, which unites Virtue and same together, let us restore Our captives unto freedom, and we two, In single combat try out the mastery. Where whoso falls each other, shall subscribe To every clause in each condition. What says his majesty? My stars are writ in heaven, nor death nor fate Are slaves to fear, to hope or human state. Alphonso, here my hand, Thy fortune lends thy peace no infamy. And now thou glorious issue of Jove's brain, That burned the Telamonian Ravisher, Look from thy sphere, and if my heart contain And impure thought of lust, send thy monsters forth And make me more then earthly miserable. Yield, recant or die. Night clad in black mourns for the lose of day, And hides the silver spangle's of the air, That not a spark is left to light the world, Whilst quiet sleep the nourisher of life Takes full possession on mortality. All creatures take their rest in soft repose Save malecontents, and we accursed lovers, Whose thoughts perturbed, makes us passion slave: And robs us of the juice of happiness. Dear Mariana, shaped in and Angels mould, Thou thral'st my senses, and inflamest my blood, Love, power, by wisdom cannot be withstood. But see the morning star breaks from the East, To tell the world her great eye is awaked To take his journey to the western vales: And now the court begins to rise with him. There goes the Physician, the waiting maid, And a fine straight leg'd Gentleman Usher, The preface to a kirtill all puff passed. One that writes sonnets in his Ladies praise, And hides her crimes with flattering poesy. But peace amazement, see the day of life, Nature's best work, the world's chief paragon. Madame one word. You do mistake me. Dear Lady lend and ear unto my voice Sith each were made for others happiness: My tong's not oiled with courtly flatterings, Nor can I paint my passion to the life; But by that power which shaped this heavenly form, I am your bondslave, forced by loves command, Then let soft pity with such beauty dwell. Madame I love you. But Madame whom? But will you love me? I hope you do but jest. Judge not so hard of all for some offenders; For you are subject to the self same crimes, Of men and women always have be had Some good of each. That humour Like a flower soon will fade, Once did mine own thoughts sing to that delight, Till love and you reformed my barbarousness: Therefore deer Lady, pity my wounded heart. Quite thorough my heart. Dearer then my soul. Madame so you may. Oh do not leave me, grant me but one request, And here I vow by that divinest power, The salt-seas glorious issue, whose bright sphere Rules my sick heart, and knows my chased intent, That if you please t'impose on me that task Which neither men nor monster can achieve, Which even Angels have a dread to touch, Deeds which outstretch all possibility, 'Sfoot more then can be thought, and i'll effect, Or else i'll perish in accomplishment. T'is but a kiss I ask, a minutes joy. I have obtained my heaven, and in this touch, I feel the breath of all delitiousnesse: Then freely give the sentence of my work, Muster up all the engines of your wit, Teach Juno rules beyond malitiousnesse, What ear it be, i'll die but i'll perform it. Let it have passage, madame give me my doom. Be heaven and earth a witness of my vow, And mine eternal silence, I am dumb. Hold, or thine own hand shall be thine own destruction. Madame to save your life I kill my soul: And speckle that which was immaculate. Black perjury that open eyed disease, Which is the plague soar of society, Brands me with mischief, and protests I hold Nothing within me but unworthiness: And all these ils are your creation. But not me my thrice royal sovereign. I'll rather wed a sooty blackamoor, A Leaper, monster, Incubus or hag, A wretch deformed in nature, loathed of men Then her that hath bemonstered my pure soul, Her scorn and pride had almost lost her life, A maid so faulted, seldom proues' good wife. Not that I love her less, but rather more, Run I this backward course; only my vow, Sith unperformed craves satisfaction; Which thus I reconcile, when this fair maid, Shall with as strong a love, as firm a zeal, A Faith as constant, and a shame as strong, Requited my care, and show as ample proof In mine extremes, as I have in her death, Then will I love, enjoy and honour her. Till when, I will not think a loving thought; Or give the easy temper of my mind To lovesick passion, or delitiousnesse. Only with those which do adore the sun, I'll give her all respect and reverence, Madam methinks this change is better then the first. I pleased, let us proceed. I would feign hear that Faith. Which kept from use is good though never so old. What your highness will command. Unto what end? Faith, & play never relished worse within my thoughts, I know not how, but loaded heaviness Draws me to be in love with melancholy. 'Tis true, & therefore shall your counsel tutor me, Where is her Majesty? I will attend her presently. And here are mine, at what game will your Majesty play? A royal game, and worthy of the name, And meetest even for Saints to exercise: Sure it was of a woman's first invention. True, for amongst millions hardly is found one saint And Actium most, most proper to your sex. Your highness servant, but misfortunes slave. Nothing in show, yet somewhat in account, Madam I am blank. Four Kings as I imagine. Indeed mine are 2 Queens, & one I'll throw away. Can you decard Madam? But spare not any to confirm your game. He lies that says I ever knew the word. Madam be patient, that we do not know, We have no cause to grieve at, as for envies toil, Let her even break her own gall with desire, Our innocence is our prevention. Be cheerful Madam, 'tis but some villains found, Made only to amaze, not to confound. And what must we do my Lord? Then lead the way; he hath of grief no sense, Whose conscience does not know of his offence. Madame my soul cannot consent to leave Your life in this great hazard, nor can death Carry such ugly shape as does the thought That you are left in this extremity: Indeed I will not leave you. Farewell fair Prince; thanks M Jailer and a kind commend. They are. Thou art my slave, either confess or die. No it from me that still am Philocles. Yet mai't be bent and suppled with extremes, Sith few dare see the end of violence What makes the skilful Leech to use the fire, Or war her engines, or states policy, But to recover things most desperate? Revolt is recreant when pursuit is brave, Never to faint does purchase what we crave 'Sfoot king, shalt not forsake them: this I see, Love, fight, and death, are ruled by destiny. Although my first creation and my birth, My thoughts and other tempers of my souls, Took all their noble beings from the sword, And made me only for the use of wars: Yet in this combat, something methinks appears, Greater then greatest glory, and does raise My mind beyond her self, 'Sfoot methinks Casars Pharsalia, Nor Scipios Carthage, nor Emilia's acts, Were worthy chairs of triumph, they over men's Poor mangled bodies, and fire-wasted climes, Made their triumphant passage, but we two Must conquer thoughts and love, more then the gods can do. Do, and you do us grace; and now thou sun, That art the eye of heaven, whose pure sighed, Shall be our guide, and Jove's great Chronicler, Look from thy sphere, No gilded of pride, of malice or of blood, Puts on our armour, only pure naked love Tutors our Hope's, and does our actions move.