English drama; Kings and rulers -- Succession -- Drama; Love -- Drama; Sicily (Italy) -- Drama; Tragicomedy
PHA. How Sir, yer son, what am I then, your Daughter you gave to
me.
KIN. But heaven hath made asignement unto him,
And brought your contract to anullity:
Sir, your entertainment hath beene most faire,
Had not your hell-bred lust dride up the spring,
From whence flow'd forth those favours that you found:
I am glad to see you safe, let this suffice,
Your selfe hath crost your selfe.
LEON. They are married sir.
PHAR. How married? I hope your highnesse will not use me so,
I came not to be disgraced, and returne alone.
KING. I cannot helpe it sir.
LEON. To returne alone, you neede not sir,
Here is one will beare you company.
You know this Ladies proofe, if you
Fail'd not in the say-taging.
ME. I hold your scoffes in vildest base contempt,
Or is there said or done, ought I repent,
But can retort even to your grinning teeths,
Your worst of spights, tho Princesse lofty steps
May not be tract, yet may they tread awry,
That boy there--
BEL. If to me ye speake Lady,
I must tell you, you have lost your selfe
In your too much forwardnesse, and hath forgot
Both modesty and truth, with what impudence
You have throwne most damnable aspertions
On that noble Princesse and my selfe: witnesse the world;
Behold me sir.
[_Kneeles to_ LEON, _and discovers her haire_.
LEON. I should know this face; my daughter.
BEL. The same sir.
PRIN. How, our sometime Page, _Bellario_, turn'd woman?
BEL. Madame, the cause induc't me to transforme my selfe,
Proceeded from a respective modest
Affection I bare to my my Lord,
The Prince _Phylaster_, to do him service,
As farre from any lacivious thought,
As that Lady is farre from goodnesse,
And if my true intents may be beleeved,
And from your Highnesse Madame, pardon finde,
You have the truth.
PRIN. I doe beleeve thee, _Bellario_ I shall call thee still.
PHI. The faithfullest servant that ever gave attendance.
LEON. Now Lady lust, what say you to'th boy now;
Doe you hang the head, do ye, shame would steale
Into your face, if ye had grace to entertaine it,
Do ye slinke away?
[ _Exit_ MEGRA _hiding her face_,
KING. Give present order she be banisht the Court,
And straightly confinde till our further
Pleasure is knowne.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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