Volume Vi Part 36 (1/2)

What, you would not? i'faith, you look not with the face: When you have the skin, sir, what will you do with the case?

But, master prince, since you are come to this travailation, I'll bring you to my old master's convoculation, Where he hides himself, when I ran away: It's not far within these woods. How think you, sir, I pray?

PHIZANTIES.

Lead on the way, and I will follow thee.

LENTULO.

Why, then, come on, my valiant hearts, march on and follow me.

But I'll make this bargain first: hear you me what I say?

When I come home, you shall not let my master beat me for running away.

PHIZANTIES.

He shall not, I warrant thee.

LENTULO.

Why, then, my n.o.ble youths of oak, pluck up your hearts with me.

Will you come, sir I come on, i'faith: keep in order you thereby.

We shall find her i'faith, master prince, anon, I know, And then I'll trounce him for running away with another man's wife, I trow.

PENULO.

Stand, sir. Who lives a-sunning yonder? can you tell?

LENTULO.

It's a beggar with a rogue.

PHIZANTIES.

It is my daughter, I see full well.

HERMIONE.

Fidelia, be content: shrink not at all.

PHIZANTIES.

Strike not a stroke, my son.

PENULO.

For help I shall go run and call.

PHIZANTIES.

And art thou found, false traitor and untrue, Traitor to him that dealt so well with thee?

Did I devise to stop that would ensue, And found my cares such issue as I see?

I see I am abused too-too much, And too much sufferance is cause of this abuse: This high abuse of yours, as being such, Affords no cloak nor colour of excuse.

O, where is thankfulness and love become?

Where is the fear of princes' wrath exil'd?

Even this is the unhappiness of some, To be of them they trusted most beguil'd; But sometime pardon breeds a second ill.

Thou shameless wench, and thou false-hearted knight, By your unhappy deeds I learn this skill; But yet I list not kill thee, as I might.

Her will I have, and keep her as I may.

On pain of death I charge thee, hence away!

HERMIONE.

O prince, this sentence hath his force and strength, And dead I am that here appear to live; For how, alas! can this my life have length When she is hence, that life and sense doth give?

But since, alas! I must be only he, Whom Fortune vows to make a common game, Armenio, my foe, do this for me-- With my revenge to end my open shame.