_Bell_. No by my life.

_Phi_. Why then she does not love me; come, she does, I had her do it; I charg'd her by all charms Of love between us, by the hope of peace We should enjoy, to yield thee all delights Naked, as to her bed: I took her oath Thou should'st enjoy her: Tell me gentle boy, Is she not paralleless? Is not her breath Sweet as _Arabian_ winds, when fruits are ripe?

Are not her b.r.e.a.s.t.s two liquid Ivory b.a.l.l.s?

Is she not all a lasting Mine of joy?

_Bell_. I, now I see why my disturbed thoughts Were so perplext. When first I went to her, My heart held augury; you are abus'd, Some villain has abus'd you; I do see Whereto you tend; fall Rocks upon his head, That put this to you; 'tis some subtil train, To bring that n.o.ble frame of yours to nought.

_Phi_. Thou think'st I will be angry with thee; Come Thou shalt know all my drift, I hate her more, Than I love happiness, and plac'd thee there, To pry with narrow eyes into her deeds; Hast thou discover'd? Is she fain to l.u.s.t, As I would wish her? Speak some comfort to me.

_Bell_. My Lord, you did mistake the boy you sent: Had she the l.u.s.t of Sparrows, or of Goats; Had she a sin that way, hid from the world, Beyond the name of l.u.s.t, I would not aid Her base desires; but what I came to know As servant to her, I would not reveal, to make my life last ages.

_Phi_. Oh my heart; this is a salve worse than the main disease.

Tell me thy thoughts; for I will know the least That dwells within thee, or will rip thy heart To know it; I will see thy thoughts as plain, As I do know thy face.

_Bell_. Why, so you do.

She is (for ought I know) by all the G.o.ds, As chaste as Ice; but were she foul as h.e.l.l And I did know it, thus; the breath of Kings, The points of Swords, Tortures nor Bulls of Bra.s.s, Should draw it from me.

_Phi_. Then 'tis no time to dally with thee; I will take thy life, for I do hate thee; I could curse thee now.

_Bell_. If you do hate you could not curse me worse; The G.o.ds have not a punishment in store Greater for me, than is your hate.

_Phi_. Fie, fie, so young and so dissembling; Tell me when and where thou di[d]st enjoy her, Or let plagues fall on me, if I destroy thee not.

_Bell_. Heaven knows I never did: and when I lie To save my life, may I live long and loath'd.

Hew me asunder, and whilst I can think I'le love those pieces you have cut away, Better than those that grow: and kiss these limbs, Because you made 'em so.

_Phi_. Fearest thou not death?

Can boys contemn that?

_Bell_. Oh, what boy is he Can be content to live to be a man That sees the best of men thus pa.s.sionate, thus without reason?

_Phi_. Oh, but thou dost not know what 'tis to die.

_Bell_. Yes, I do know my Lord; 'Tis less than to be born; a lasting sleep, A quiet resting from all jealousie; A thing we all pursue; I know besides, It is but giving over of a game that must be lost.

_Phi_. But there are pains, false boy, For perjur'd souls; think but on these, and then Thy heart will melt, and thou wilt utter all.

_Bell_. May they fall all upon me whilst I live, If I be perjur'd, or have ever thought Of that you charge me with; if I be false, Send me to suffer in those punishments you speak of; kill me.

_Phi_. Oh, what should I do?

Why, who can but believe him? He does swear So earnestly, that if it were not true, The G.o.ds would not endure him. Rise _Bellario_, Thy protestations are so deep; and thou Dost look so truly, when thou utterest them, That though I [know] 'em false, as were my hopes, I cannot urge thee further; but thou wert To blame to injure me, for I must love Thy honest looks, and take no revenge upon Thy tender youth; A love from me to thee Is firm, what ere thou dost: It troubles me That I have call'd the blood out of thy cheeks, That did so well become thee: but good boy Let me not see thee more; something is done, That will distract me, that will make me mad, If I behold thee: if thou tender'st me, Let me not see thee.

_Bell_. I will fly as far As there is morning, ere I give distaste To that most honour'd mind. But through these tears Shed at my hopeless parting, I can see A world of Treason practis'd upon you, And her and me. Farewel for evermore; If you shall hear, that sorrow struck me dead, And after find me Loyal, let there be A tear shed from you in my memorie, And I shall rest at peace.

[_Exit_ Bel.

_Phi_. Blessing be with thee, What ever thou deserv'st. Oh, where shall I Go bath thy body? Nature too unkind, That made no medicine for a troubled mind!

[_Exit_. Phi.

_Enter_ Arethuse.

_Are_. I marvel my boy comes not back again; But that I know my love will question him Over and over; how I slept, wak'd, talk'd; How I remembred him when his dear name Was last spoke, and how, when I sigh'd, wept, sung, And ten thousand such; I should be angry at his stay.

[_Enter _King.

_King_. What are your meditations? who attends you?

_Are_. None but my single self, I need no Guard, I do no wrong, nor fear none.

_King_. Tell me: have you not a boy?

_Are_. Yes Sir.

_King_. What kind of boy?

_Are_. A Page, a waiting boy.

_King_. A handsome boy?

_Are_. I think he be not ugly: Well qualified, and dutiful, I know him, I took him not for beauty.

_King_. He speaks, and sings and plays?

_Are_. Yes Sir.

_King_. About Eighteen?

_Are_. I never ask'd his age.

_King_. Is he full of service?

_Are_. By your pardon why do you ask?

_King_. Put him away.

_Are_. Sir?

_King_. Put him away, h'as done you that good service, Shames me to speak of.

_Are_. Good Sir let me understand you.

_King_. If you fear me, shew it in duty; put away that boy.

_Are_. Let me have reason for it Sir, and then Your will is my command.

_King_. Do not you blush to ask it? Cast him off, Or I shall do the same to you. Y'are one Shame with me, and so near unto my self, That by my life, I dare not tell my self, What you, my self have done.

_Are_. What have I done my Lord?