Enter the Lady of GOVIANUS with a Servant.
Lady. Who is't would speak with us?
Serv. My lord, your father.
Lady. Pray make haste, he waits too long.
Intreat him hither. In despight of all
The tyrant's cruelties, we have got that friendship
E'en of the guard that he has plac'd about us,
My lord and I have free access together,
As much as I would ask of liberty;
They'll trust us largely now, and keep sometimes
Three hours from us, a rare courtesy
In jailors' children; some mild news I hope
Comes with my father.
There is some further tyranny; let it fall!
Our constant sufferings shall amaze it all.
I will not bless thee,-thy obedience
Is after custom, as most rich men pray,
Whose saint is only fashion and vain glory;
So 'tis with thee in thy dissembled duty,
There's no religion in't, no reverent love,
Only for fashion, and the praise of men.
Lady. Why should you think so, sir?
Helv. Think? I know't and see't.
I'll sooner give my blessing to a drunkard,
Whom the ridiculous power of wine makes humble,
As foolish use makes thee;-base spirited girl,
That can'st not think above disgrace and beggary,
When glory is set for thee and thy seed,
Advancement for thy father, beside joy
Able to make a latter spring in me,
In this my fourscore summer, and renew me
With a reversion yet of heat and youth!
But the dejection of thy mind and spirit
Makes me, thy father, guilty of a fault
That draws thy birth in question, and e'en wrongs
Thy mother in her ashes, being at peace
With heav'n and man; had not her life and virtues
Been seals unto her faith, I should think thee now
The work of some hir'd servant, some house tailor,
And no one part of my endeavour in thee;
Had I neglected greatness; or not rather
Pursu'd almost to my eternal hazard,
Thou'dst ne'er been a lord's daughter!
Lady. Had I been
A shepherd's, I'd been happier and more peaceful.
Helv. Thy very seed will curse thee in thy age,
When they shall hear the story of thy weakness.—
How in thy youth, thy fortunes tender'd thee
A kingdom for thy servant, which thou left'st
Basely to serve thyself; what dost thou in this,
But merely cozen thy posterity
Of royalty and succession, and thyself
Of dignity present?
Lady. Sir, your king did well
'Mongst all his nobles to pick out yourself
And send you with these words: his politic grace
Knew what he did, for well he might imagine
None else should have been heard; they'd had their answer
Before the question had been half way through.
But, dearest sir! I owe to you a reverence,
A debt which both begins and ends with life,
Never till then discharg'd, 'tis so long lasting;
Yet, could you be more precious than a father,
Which next a husband is the richest treasure
Mortality can show us, you should pardon me
And yet confess too that you found me kind,
To hear your words, though I withstood your mind.
Helv. Say you so, daughter? troth I thank you kindly, I am in hope to rise well by your means,
Or you to raise yourself; we're both beholding to you.
Well, since I cannot win you, I commend you,-
I praise your constancy and pardon you.
Take Govianus to you, make the most of him,
Pick out your husband there, so you'll but grant me
One light request that follows.
Lady. Heaven forbid else, sir!
Helv. Give me the choosing of your friend, that's all. Lady. How, sir? my friend?—a light request indeed! Somewhat too light, sir, either for my wearing,
Or your own gravity, an' you look on't well!
Helv. Pish! talk like a woman, girl, not like a fool! Thou knowest the end of greatness, and hast wit
Above the flight of twenty feather'd mistresses,
That glister in the sun of princes' favours.
Thou hast discourse in thee, fit for a king's fellowship,
A princely carriage, and astonishing presence.
What should a husband do with all this goodness?
Alas! one end on't is too much for him,
Nor is it fit a subject should be master
Of such a jewel; 'tis in the King's power
To take it for the forfeit,-but I come
To bear thee gently to his bed of honours,
All force forgotten. The king commends him to thee
With more than the humility of a servant,
That since thou wilt not yield to be his queen,
Be yet his mistress, he shall be content
With that or nothing, he shall ask no more;
And with what easiness that is perform'd,
Most of you women know, having a husband;
That kindness costs thee nothing, you've that in
All over and above to your first bargain,
And that's a brave advantage for a woman,
If she be wise, as I suspect not thee;
And having youth, and beauty, and a husband,
Thou'st all the wish of woman. Take thy time then-
Make thy best market.
Lady. Can you assure me, sir,
Whether my father spake this? or some spirit
Of evil wishing, that has for a time
Hir'd his voice of him, to beguile me that way,
Presuming on his power and my obedience :
I'd gladly know, that I might frame an answer
According to the speaker.
Helv. How now, baggage!
Am I in question with thee? does thy scorn cast
So thick an ignorance before thine eyes,
That I'm forgotten too? Who is't speaks to thee,
But I thy father?
Enter GOVIANUS, discharging a pistol.
Govi. The more monstrous he!
Art down but with the bare voice of my fury?
Up, ancient sinner! thou'rt but mock'd with death,
I miss'd thee purposely, thank this dear creature.
O had'st thou been anything beside her father,
I'd made a fearful separation on thee;
I would have sent thy soul to a darker prison
Than any made of clay, and thy dead body
As a token to the lustful king, thy master.
Art thou struck down so soon with the short sound
Of this small earthly instrument, and do'st thou
So little fear the eternal noise of hell?
What's she? does she not bear thy daughter's name?
How stirs thy blood, sir? is there a dead feeling
Of all things fatherly and honest in thee?
Say thou cou'dst be content for greatness' sake
To end the last act of thy life in pandarism,
Must it needs follow that unmanly sin
Can work upon the weakness of no woman
But her, whose name and honour natural love
Bids thee preserve more charily than eye-sight,
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