_King_. Is it appeas'd? _Di_. Sir, all is quiet as this dead of night, As peaceable as sleep, my Lord _Philaster_ Brings on the Prince himself. _King_. Kind Gentlemen! I will not break the least word I have given In promise to him, I have heap'd a world Of grief upon his head, which yet I hope To wash away. _Enter_ Philaster _and_ Pharamond. _Cle_. My Lord is come. _King_. My Son! Blest be the time that I have leave to call Such vertue mine; now thou art in mine arms, Me thinks I have a salve unto my breast For all the stings that dwell there, streams of grief That I have wrought thee, and as much of joy That I repent it, issue from mine eyes: Let them appease thee, take thy right; take her, She is thy right too, and forget to urge My vexed soul with that I did before. _Phi_. Sir, [it is] blotted from my memory, Past and forgotten: For you Prince of _Spain_, Whom I have thus redeem'd, you have full leave To make an honourable voyage home. And if you would go furnish'd to your Realm With fair provision, I do see a Lady Me thinks would gladly bear you company: How like you this piece? _Meg_. Sir, he likes it well, For he hath tried it, and found it worth His princely liking; we were ta'ne a bed, I know your meaning, I am not the first That Nature taught to seek a fellow forth: Can shame remain perpetually in me, And not in others? or have Princes salves To cure ill names that meaner people want? _Phi_. What mean you? _Meg_. You must get another ship To clear the Princess and the boy together. _Di_. How now! _Meg_. Others took me, and I took her and him At that all women may be ta'ne sometimes: Ship us all four my Lord, we can endure Weather and wind alike. _King_. Clear thou thy self, or know not me for Father. _Are_. This earth, How false it is? what means is left for me To clear my self? It lies in your belief, My Lords believe me, and let all things else Struggle together to dishonour me. _Bell_. O stop your ears great King, that I may speak As freedom would, then I will call this Lady As base as be her actions, hear me Sir, Believe [y]our hated bloud when it rebels Against your reason sooner than this Lady. _Meg_. By this good light he bears it hansomely.