You make me guilty, and a murderer,
For I first brought him hither; to my hands
He did commit his life, being a child,

When on the plains of Thrace I took him up;
Let him not lose it at a holy altar;

And princes' courts are such, and should maintain
As divine privilege as sanctuary;

For kings that circle in themselves with death, Poison the air in which themselves draw breath.

Lil. Bless'd be that orator! gracious fatherK. Afr. Let her not speak, her words confirm suspect:

Bear her away unto her private chamber,
There let her be confin'd a prisoner,

Till we determine further.

1 Moor. It shall be done.

[Exit Guard with Lillia.

K. Afr. Sophos, his life is thine, but not his freedom.

Eus. Durance? Worse than death!

K. Afr. No: banishment:

Save Africa make all the world thine own.

Soph. The king's all mercy.

Eus. I'll proclaim as much.

1 Moor. Ay, but, my lord, what safety for

life,

Which he so much hath threaten'd?

my

Eus. I scorn to touch thy life, thou timorous

slave:

But traitors are all cowards: fare thee well;
And my dear foster-father, wanting whom
I lose my better part: thus they thrive,
That cannot flatter kings; feel death alive.
[Exit Eusanius.

K. Afr. Nay, Sophos, be not sad; · 'Tis thy pretended good that we pursue:

The girl was wanton, and the boy was young, And love is kindled by desire as soon,

In one poor minute, as an age of time:

We banish'd him, that she might fancy thee,
Whom we intend shall have her; it is true
As we are royal, if you please to accept her.
Soph. 'Tis an honour that I shall never merit,
To spouse a princess of her excellency;
For I have nothing worthy her affection :
She cannot give consent to love a man
That's banish'd from his land and native soil:
I have no titles for to honour her,

And that's a thing that women most affect.

K. Afr. Sir, you inherit virtue; that's a thing No mortal can restore; all other state

We will invest you with; the crown of Thrace
Shall be your own, or cost ten thousand lives:
Our sable ensigns, never yet before

Displayed beyond the Mediterranean sea,
Shall now be seen to fly; men have livers there
Pale as their faces, and when we appear
Will frighted run from such a golden soil:
Our home-bred fear have end; foreign foes
Must be our conquest now.

Come, my best Sophos, ere the next moon spring,
My child shall call thee husband, Thrace her king.

Flourish of trumpets. Exeunt.

་

ACT IV. SCENE I.

Enter PHEANDER in a Pilgrim's Habit alone, reading the Oracle.

Phean. Content shall keep in town and field, &c. I know not in what sense to apprehend it, So intricate this matter seems to me; Yet in these latter lines I read a comfort: Then shall the shepherd from the plain, Restore your health and crown again. There is a sign of truth already past, For when Apollo did pronounce this doom, I was a king, and did enjoy my crown, And I must be deposed before restored. But then the man-ay, there's the doubt of all ; For ever since I took this pilgrim's habit

I have wandered up and down to find this shepherd;

Wandered indeed! for in the search of him,

I have lost myself: sitting upon the plain,

I saw a face of such surpassing beauty,

That Jove and Nature, should they both contend To make a shape of their mix'd purity,

Could not invent a sky-born form so beautiful: Be she a mortal, and a shepherdess,

Her beauty may become a prince's court.

Why may not I, wedding this shepherd's queen,
Beget an heir that may restore my crown?
I'll lay my life the oracle meant so.

The stars from earthly humours gain their light, Our humours from their lights possess their

powers.

But now the means for to obtain this prize?
I'll send a private messenger to court,
To bid Pallatio, with a well-arm'd troop,
At such a certain hour to meet me here,
And lie in secret ambush 'bout the house.
I will conceal myself, and watch a time
To bear away this wonder of our clime.
[Stands aside.

Enter ARIADNE, and TITYRUS after her singing,

&c.

Tit. Oh stay, oh turn, oh pity me,

That sighs, that sues for love of thee!
Oh lack! I never loved before,

If you deny, I'll ne'er love more.

No hope, no help, then wretched I

Must lose, must lack, must pine, and die;
Since you neglect when I implore,
Farewell hard, I'll ne'er love more.

Enter PALEMON franticly habited; ANTIMON dressed like a Performer in an Antic Dance; and the CLOWN dressed like Maid Marian*: after dancing some time in a wild and disorderly Manner, they dance off the Stage.

Tit. Here's a sight gives a fresh wound unto my love-sick heart: to think a man that was re

* « Maid Marian" was the lady of the morris-dance. The reader may collect some curious particulars from the notes on the "First Part of Henry IV."

puted wise, should lose himself in a Dedalion maze, and run mad for a woman; woman, that's the cause; it is indeed, happy remembrance! in searching out his wound, I have cured myself: shall I see my brother's wits caught in a pursenet, and run my head into the same noose? then count me for a woodcock; no, I am now the man I was, and will still say,

There is not any wise man,
That fancy can a woman;
Then never turn your eyes on
A thing that is so common:
For be they foul or fair,
They tempting devils are,
Since they first fell;

They that love do live in hell,

And therefore, men, beware.

[Exit.

Ariad. What a distraction is this! Was ever

seen

So strange a dotage? not in him alone,

But 'tis in general: that did not grief Usurp too much upon a heart oppress'd *, "Twere mirth would move to laughter.

Enter EUSANIUS like a Shepherd.

This is no lover sure; I know him not;
Yet I mistrust the hanging of his head:
I'll note him further; 'tis a handsome fellow.

Eus. This habit is most frequent in this place, I'll wear it for fashion sake; 't may be a means

• The quarto reads, "supprest."