The Mad Lover - LightNovelsOnl.com
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_Chi._ Fie, fie, no.
_Fool._ Be-lee me, Sir.
_Chi._ I wou'd I cou'd, Sir.
_Fool._ I will satisfie ye.
_Chi._ But I will not content you; alas poor Boy, Thou shew'st an honest Nature, weepst for thy Master, There's a red Rogue to buy thee Handkerchiefs.
_Fool._ He was an honest Gentleman, I have lost too.
_Chi._ You have indeed your labour, Fool; but _Stremon_, Dost thou want money too? no Vertue living?
No firking out at fingers ends?
_Strem._ It seems so.
_Chi._ Will ye all serve me?
_Strem._ Yes, when ye are Lord General, For less I will not go.
_Chi._ There's Gold for thee then, Thou hast a Souldiers mind. Fool--
_Fool._ Here, your first man.
_Chi._ I will give thee for thy Wit, for 'tis a fine wit, A dainty diving Wit, hold up, just nothing, Go graze i' th' Commons, yet I am merciful-- There's six-pence: buy a Saucer, steal an old Gown, And beg i' th' Temple for a Prophet, come away Boys, Let's see how things are carried, Fool, up Sirrah, You may chance get a dinner: Boy, your preferment I'll undertake, for your brave Masters sake, You shall not perish.
_Fool._ _Chilax._
_Chi._ Please me well, Fool.
And you shall light my pipes: away to the Temple.
But stay, the King's here, sport upon sport, Boys.
_Enter King, Lords_, Siphax _kneeling_, Cloe _with a Vail_.
_King._ What would you have, Captain?
Speak suddenly, for I am wondrous busie.
_Si._ A pardon, Royal Sir.
_King._ For what?
_Si._ For that Which was Heaven's Will, should not be mine alone, Sir; My marrying with this Lady.
_King._ It needs no pardon, For Marriage is no Sin.
_Si._ Not in it self, Sir; But in presuming too much: yet Heaven knows, So does the Oracle that cast it on me, And----the Princess, royal Sir.
_King._ What Princess?
_Si._ O be not angry my dread King, your Sister.
_King._ My Sister; she's i' th' Temple, Man.
_Si._ She is here, Sir.
_Lord._ The Captain's mad, she's kneeling at the Altar.
_King._ I know she is; with all my heart good Captain, I do forgive ye both: be unvail'd, Lady. [_Puts off her Vail._ Will ye have more forgiveness? the man's frantick, Come let's go bring her out: G.o.d give ye joy, Sir.
_Si._ How, _Cloe_? my old _Cloe_? [_Ex. King, Lords._
_Clo._ Even the same, Sir.
_Chi._ G.o.ds give your manhood much content.
_Strem._ The Princess Looks something musty since her coming over.
_Fool._ 'Twere good you'd brush her over.
_Si._ Fools and Fidlers Make sport at my abuse too?
_Fool._ O 'tis the Nature Of us Fools to make bold with one another, But you are wise, brave sirs.
_Chi._ Cheer up your Princess, Believe it Sir, the King will not be angry, Or say he were; why, 'twas the Oracle.
The Oracle, an't like your Grace, the Oracle.
_Strem._ And who, most mighty _Siphax_?
_Siph._ With mine own wh.o.r.e.
_Cloe._ With whom else should ye marry, speak your conscience, Will ye transgress the law of Arms, that ever Rewards the Souldier with his own sins?
_Siph._ Devils.
_Cloe._ Ye had my maiden-head, my youth, my sweetness, Is it not justice then?--
_Siph._ I see it must be, But by this hand, I'le hang a lock upon thee.
_Cloe._ You shall not need, my honesty shall doe it.
_Siph._ If there be wars in all the world--
_Cloe._ I'le with ye, For you know I have been a Souldier, Come, curse on: when I need another Oracle.
_Chi._ Send for me _Siphax_, I'le fit ye with a Princess, And so to both your honours.
_Fool._ And your graces.
