Volume Xi Part 137 (2/2)

KING. Yet pity me, Leucothoe; cure the wound Thine eyes have made: pity a begging king!

Uncharm the charms of thy bewitching face, Or thou wilt leave me dead. Will nothing move thee?

Thou art a witch, a traitor: thou hast sought By unresisted spells thy sovereign's life.

Who are about us? Call in the lords again.

_Enter_ POLYMETES, VIRRO, EUPHUES, &c.

Lord Polymetes, take your daughter to you, Keep her at home.

POL. I will, my liege; Roscio, see her there.

I wonder what is done. [_Aside._]

KING. Euphues, I have ta'en a solemn oath Never to grant a pardon to thy son.

EUPH. O, say not so, my liege; your grace, I know, Has mercy for a greater fault than this.

KING. My oath is pa.s.s'd, and cannot be recall'd.

POL. This is beyond our wishes. [_Aside._]

VIR. What made him swear this, I wonder?

EUPH. A heavy oath to me, and most unlook'd for.

Your justice, sir, has set a period Unto a loyal house, a family That have been props of the Sicilian crown, That with their bloods in many an honour'd field, 'Gainst the hot French and Neapolitan, Have serv'd for you and your great ancestors: Their children now can never more do so.

Farewell, my sovereign! whilst I in tears Spend the sad remnant of my childless age, I'll pray for your long life and happy reign, And may your grace and your posterity At need find hands as good and hearts as true, As ours have ever been!

KING. Farewell, good old man.

EUPH. For you, my lord, your cruelty has deserv'd A curse from me, but I can utter none: Your daughter's goodness has weigh'd down your malice, Heaven prosper her! [_Exit_ EUPHUES.

POL. Amen.

KING. He is an honest man, and truly n.o.ble.

O my rash oath! my l.u.s.t that was the cause: Would any price would buy it in again!

VIR. Your majesty is just.

POL. 'Tis a happy land, Where the king squares his actions by the law.

KING. Away! you are base and b.l.o.o.d.y, That feed your malice with pretence of justice.

'Tis such as you make princes tyrannous, And hated of their subjects: but look to't, Look your own heads stand fast; for if the law Do find a hole in your coats, beg no mercy.

VIR. Pardon us, my lord, we were wrong'd.

POL. And sought redress but by a lawful course.

KING. Well, leave me alone.

VIR. Farewell, my liege. Now let him chafe alone.

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