It is my business that doth call thee hence; And when thou art with her thou dwell'st with me: With joy receive thee; as I live, I will; Nay, weep not, gentle boy; 'tis more than time Bell. I am gone; T But since I am to part with you, my lord, I have read wonders of it: yet this boy, A day to pay him for his loyalty. Philaster is jealous of Bellario : Bell. Health to you, my lord; may see The princess doth commend her love, her life, Phi. O, Bellario! Now I perceive she loves me, she doth show it:... Bell. My lord, she has attired me past my wish, Phi. Thou art grown courtly, boy. O let all women, Here by this paper she does write to me As if her heart were mines of adamant [Exit. Tell me, my boy, how doth the princess use thee? Bell. Scarce like her servant, but as if I were As I'd use one that's left unto my trust, For whom my life should pay if he met harm, Phi. Why, this is wond'rous well: But what kind language does she feed thee with? Her pretty servant, bids me weep no more Phi. This is much better still. Bell. Are you ill, my lord? Phi. Ill? No, Bellario. Bell. Methinks your words Fall not from off your tongue so evenly, Nor is there in your looks that quietness, That I was wont to see. Phi. Thou art deceived, boy.—And she strokes thy head? Bell. O, what boy is he Can be content to live to be a man, That sees the best of men thus passionate, 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 jealousy; A thing we all pursue; I know besides That must be lost. Phi. But there are pains, false boy, For perjured 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, Of that you charge me with; if I be false, Phi. O, what should I do? Why, who can but believe him? He does swear So earnestly, that if it were not true, The gods would not endure him. Rise, Bellario, Thy protestations are so deep, and thou Dost look so truly when thou utter'st them, That though I know them false, as were my hopes, Bell. I will fly as far As there is morning, ere I give distaste To that most honour'd mind. But through these tears, A world of treason practised upon you, And her, and me. Farewell 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 memory, And I shall rest at peace. The page throws off her disguise, and confesses the motive of her conduct : My father would oft speak Your worth and virtue, and as I did grow That when I made discovery of my sex Whilst there was hope to hide me from men's eyes, King. Search out a match Within our kingdom, where and when thou wilt, Wilt well deserve him. Bell. Never, Sir, will I Marry; it is a thing within my vow: But if I may have leave to serve the princess, 214.-MIRTH. ARCHDEACON HARE. [THE following extract is from a remarkable work, 'Guesses at Truth, by Two Brothers.' (3rd edit.) Those brothers are Julius and Augustus Hare. Augustus "has been raised from the earth to the full fruition of that truth of which he had first been the earnest seeker, and then the dutiful servant and herald." Julius lives to benefit the world by the exercise of his rare talents as a writer, and the discharge of his sacred duties as a pastor.] Ridentem dicere verum quid vetat? * In the first place, all the sour faces in the world, stiffening into a yet more rigid asperity at the least glimpse of a smile. I have seen faces, too, which, so long as you let them lie in their sleepy torpor, unshaken and unstirred, have a creamy softness and smoothness, and might beguile you into suspecting their owners of being gentle: but, if they catch the sound * What forbids one to say what is true in a laughing manner? |