Methinks I have a falve unto my breaft

For all the ftings that dwell there: Streams of grief
That I have wrong'd thee, and as much of joy
That I repent it, iffue from mine eyes:

Let them appease thee; take thy right; take her,
She is thy right too, and forget to urge
My vexed foul with that I did before.

Phi. Sir, it is blotted from my memory,

Past and forgotten. For you, prince of Spain,
Whom I have thus redeem'd, you have full leave
To make an honourable voyage home.

And if you would go furnish'd to your realm
With fair provifion, I do fee a lady,
Methinks, would gladly bear you company.
Meg. Shall I then alone

Be made the mark of obloquy and scorn?
Can fhame remain perpetually in me,
And not in others? or have princes falves

To cure ill names, that meaner people want?
Phi. What mean you?

Meg. You must get another ship

To bear the princefs and the boy together.

Dion. How now!

Meg. I have already publish'd both their shames.

Ship us all four, my lord; we can endure

Weather and wind alike.

King. Clear thou thyself, or know not me for

father.

Are. This earth, how falfe it is! what means is left For me to clear myfelf? It lies in your belief. My lord, believe me, and let all things elfe Struggle together to dishonour me.

Bel. Oh, ftop your ears, great king, that I may speak

As freedom would: Then I will call this lady
As bafe as be her actions. Hear me, Sir;
Believe your hated blood when it rebels
Against your reafon, fooner than this lady.

Phi. This lady? I will sooner trust the wind
With feathers, or the troubled fea with pearl,
Than her with any thing: Beliève her not?
Why, think you, if I did believe her words,
I would outlive 'em? Honour cannot take
Revenge on you; then what were to be known
But death?

King. Forget her, Sir, since all is knit
Between us: But I must request of you
One favour, and will fadly be denied.
Phi. Command, whate'er it be.
King. Swear to be true

To what you promise.

Phi. By the pow'rs above,

Let

Let it not be the death of her or him,

And it is granted.

King. Bear away the boy

To torture. I will have her clear'd or buried.

Phi. Oh, let me call my words back, worthy Sir; Ask something else: Bury my life and right In one poor grave; but do not take away My life and fame at once.

King. Away with him; it ftands irrevocable. Bel. Oh, kill me, gentlemen!

Dion. No help, Sirs.

Bel. Will you torture me?

King. Hafte there; why stay you?

Bel. Then I fhall not break my vow,

You know, just gods, though I discover all.
King. How's that? will he confefs?

Dion. Sir, fo he fays.

King. Speak then.

Bel. Great king, if you'll command

This lord to talk with me alone, my tongue,

Urg'd by my heart, fhall utter all the thoughts My youth hath known,`and stranger things than thefe

You hear not often.

King. Walk afide with him.

[Dion and Bell. walk afide together.

Dion. Why speak'st thou not?

Bel. Know you this face, my lord?
Dion. No.

Bel. Have you not seen it, nor the like?
Dion. Yes, I have feen the like, but readily
I know not where.

Bel. I have been often told

In court of one Euphrafia, a lady,

And daughter to you; betwixt whom and me, They, that would flatter my bad face, would fwear There was fuch ftrange resemblance, that we two Could not be known asunder, dreft alike.

Dion. By Heav'n, and fo there is.

Bel. For her fair fake,

Who now doth spend the spring-time of her life

In holy pilgrimage, move to the king,

That I may 'scape this torture.

Dion. But thou speak'ft

As like Euphrafia, as thou doft look.

How came it to thy knowledge that fhe lives

In pilgrimage?

Bel. I know it not, my lord;

But I have heard it, and do fcarce believe it.

Dion. Oh, my fhame, is it poffible? draw near,

That I may gaze upon thee: Art thou fhe?
Or else her murderer? where wert thou born?

Bel,

94

Bel. In Siracufa.

Dion. What's thy name?
Bel. Euphrafia.

Dion. 'Tis juft; 'tis fhe; now I do know thee. Oh, That thou hadft died, and I had never seen

Thee nor my fhame!

Bel. 'Would I had died, indeed! I wifh it too; And fo I must have done by vow, ere publish'd What I have told; but that there was no means To hide it longer; yet I joy in this, The princess is all clear.

King. What have you done?

Dion. All is difcover'd.

Are. What is difcover'd?

Dion. Why, my fhame;

It is a woman; let her speak the reft.

Phi. How! that again.

Dion. It is a woman.

Phi. Bleft be you pow'rs that favour innocence! It is a woman, Sir! hark, gentlemen!

It is a woman. Arethufa, take

My foul into thy breast, that would be gone
With joy: It is a woman-thou art fair,
And virtuous ftill to ages, 'fpite of malice.
King. Speak you; where lies his shame?
Bel. I am his daughter.