Act V. Scene II. Open Place Near The Court Of The King Of Arragon.

[Enter the King and Collen.]

Break, heart, and end my paled woes,
My Amadine, the comfort of my life,
How can I joy except she were in sight?
Her absence breeds sorrow to my soul
And with a thunder breaks my heart in twain.

Forbear those passions, gentle King,
And you shall see twill turn unto the best,
And bring your soul to quiet and to joy.

Such joy as death, I do assure me that,
And naught but death, unless of her I hear,
And that with speed; I cannot sigh thus long--
But what a tumult do I hear within?

[The cry within, 'joy and happiness!']

I hear a noise of over-passing joy
Within the court; my Lord, be of good comfort--
And here comes one in haste.

[Enter the Clown running.]

A King! a King! a King!

Why, how now, sirra? what's the matter?

O, tis news for a king, 'tis worth money.

Why, sirra, thou shalt have silver and gold if it be

O, tis good, tis good. Amadine--

Oh, what of her? tell me, & I will make thee a knight.

How a spright? no, by lady, I will not be a spright.
Masters, get ye away; if I be a spright, I shall be so lean
I shall make you all afraid.

Thou sot, the King means to make thee a gentleman.

Why, I shall want parrell.

Thou shalt want for nothing.

Then stand away, trick up thy self: here they come.

[Enter Segasto, Mucedorus, and Amadine.]

My gratious father, pardon thy disloyal daughter.

What do mine eyes behold? my daughter Amadine?
Rise up, dear daughter & let these, my embracing arms,
Show some token of thy father's joy,
Which ever since thy departure hath languished in sorrow.

Dear father, never were your sorrows
Greater than my griefs,
Never you so desolate as I comfortless;
Yet, nevertheless, acknowledging my self
To be the cause of both, on bended knees
I humbly crave your pardon.

I'll pardon thee, dear daughter: but as for him--

Ah, father, what of him?

As sure as I am a king, and wear the crown,
I will revenge on that accursed wretch.

Yet, worthy prince, work not thy will in wrath;
Show favour.

Aye, such favour as thou deservest.

I do deserve the daughter of a king.

Oh, impudent! a shepherd and so insolent!

No shepherd I, but a worthy prince.

In fair conceit, not princely born.

Yes, princely born: my father is a king,
My mother Queen, and of Valentia both.

What, Mucedorus! welcome to our court.
What cause hadst thou to come to me disguised?

No cause to fear; I caused no offence
But this:
Desiring thy daughter's virtues for to see
Disguised my self from out my father's court.
Unknown to any, in secret I did rest,
And passed many troubles near to death;
So hath your daughter my partaker been,
As you shall know hereafter more at large,
Desiring you, you will give her to me,
Even as mine own and sovereign of my life;
Then shall I think my travels are well spent.

With all my heart, but this--
Segasto claims my promise made to fore,
That he should have her as his only wife,
Before my counsel when we came from war.
Segasto, may I crave thee let it pass,
And give Amadine as wife to Mucedorus?

With all my heart, were it far a greater thing,
And what I may to furnish up there rites
With pleasing sports and pastimes you shall see.

Thanks, good Segasto, I will think of this.

Thanks, good my Lord, & while I live
Account of me in what I can or may.

And, good Segasto, these great courtesies
Shall not be forgot.

Why, hark you, master: bones, what have you
done? What, given away the wench you made
me take such pains for? you are wise indeed!
mas, and I had known of that I would have had
her my self! faither, master, now we may go to
breakfast with a woodcoke pie.

Go, sir, you were best leave this knavery.

Come on, my Lords, let's now to court,
Where we may finish up the joyfullest day
That ever hapt to a distressed King.
Were but thy Father, the Valencia Lord,
Present in view of this combining knot.

[A shout within. Enter a Messenger.]

What shout was that?

My Lord, the great Valencia King,
Newly arrived, entreats your presence.

My Father?

Prepared welcomes give him entertainment:
A happier Planet never reigned than that,
Which governs at this hour.

[Sound. Enter the King of Valencia, Anselmo, Rodrigo,
Borachius, with others; the King runs and embraces
his Son.]

Rise, honour of my age, food to my rest:
Condemn not mighty King of Aragon
My rude behaviour, so compelled by Nature,
That manners stood unknowledged.

What we have to recite would tedious prove
By declaration; therefore, in, and feast:
To morrow the performance shall explain,
What Words conceal; till then, Drums speak,
Bells ring,
Give plausive welcomes to our brother King.

[Sound Drums and Trumpets. Exeunt omnes.]


[Enter Comedy and Envy.]

How now, Envy? what, blushest thou all ready?
Peep forth, hide not thy head with shame,
But with a courage praise a woman's deeds.
Thy threats were vain, thou couldst do me no hurt.
Although thou seemdst to cross me with despite,
I overwhelmed, and turned upside down thy block
And made thy self to stumble at the same.

Though stumbled, yet not overthrown.
Thou canst not draw my heart to mildness;
Yet must I needs confess thou hast done well,
And played thy part with mirth and pleasant glee:
Say all this, yet canst thou not conquer me;
Although this time thou hast got--yet not the conquest
A double revenge another time I'll have.

Envy, spit thy gall;
Plot, work, contrive; create new fallacies,
Teem from thy Womb each minute a black Traitor,
Whose blood and thoughts have twins conception:
Study to act deeds yet unchronicled,
Cast native Monsters in the molds of Men,
Case vicious Devils under sancted Rochets,
Unhasp the Wicket where all perjureds roost,
And swarm this Ball with treasons: do thy worst;
Thou canst not hell-hound cross my star to night,
Nor blind that glory, where I wish delight.

I can, I will.

Nefarious Hag, begin,
And let us tug, till one the mastery win.

Comedy, thou art a shallow Goose;
I'll overthrow thee in thine own intent,
And make thy fall my Comic merriment.

Thy policy wants gravity; thou art
Too weak. Speak, Fiend, as how?

Why, thus:
From my foul Study will I hoist a Wretch,
A lean and hungry Meager Cannibal,
Whose jaws swell to his eyes with chawing Malice:
And him I'll make a Poet.

What's that to th' purpose?

This scrambling Raven, with his needy Beard,
Will I whet on to write a Comedy,
Wherein shall be compos'd dark sentences,
Pleasing to factious brains:
And every other where place me a Jest,
Whose high abuse shall more torment than blows:
Then I my self (quicker than Lightning)
Will fly me to a puissant magistrate,
And weighting with a Trencher at his back,
In midst of jollity, rehearse those gauls,
(With some additions)
So lately vented in your Theater.
He, upon this, cannot but make complaint,
To your great danger, or at least restraint.

Ha, ha, ha! I laugh to hear thy folly;
This is a trap for Boys, not Men, nor such,
Especially desertful in their doings,
Whose stay'd discretion rules their purposes.
I and my faction do eschew those vices.
But see, O see! the weary Sun for rest
Hath lain his golden compass to the West,
Where he perpetual bide and ever shine,
As David's off-spring, in his happy Clime.
Stoop, Envy, stoop, bow to the Earth with me,
Let's beg our Pardons on our bended knee.

[They kneel.]

My Power has lost her Might; Envy's date's expired.
Yon splendant Majesty hath felled my sting,
And I amazed am.

[Fall down and quake.]

Glorious and wise Arch-Caesar on this earth,
At whose appearance, Envy's stroken dumb,
And all bad things cease operation:
Vouchsafe to pardon our unwilling error,
So late presented to your Gracious view,
And we'll endeavour with excess of pain,
To please your senses in a choicer strain.
Thus we commit you to the arms of Night,
Whose spangled carcass would, for your delight,
Strive to excell the Day; be blessed, then:
Who other wishes, let him never speak.

To Fame and Honour we commend your rest;
Live still more happy, every hour more blest.
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