Philaster; Or, Love Lies a Bleeding. Beaumont Francis

have cause of present Counsel with you.

      Pha. If your Grace please to use me, I'le attend you

                      To your Chamber.

                                                                [Pha. below.

      King. No, 'tis too late Prince, I'le make bold with yours.

      Pha. I have some private reasons to my self,

                      Makes me unmannerly, and say you cannot;

                      Nay, press not forward Gentlemen, he must come

                      Through my life, that comes here.

      King. Sir be resolv'd, I must and will come. Enter.

      Pha. I will not be dishonour'd;

                      He that enters, enters upon his death;

                      Sir, 'tis a sign you make no stranger of me,

                      To bring these Renegados to my Chamber,

                      At these unseason'd hours.

      King. Why do you

                      Chafe your self so? you are not wrong'd, nor shall be;

                      Onely I'le search your lodging, for some cause

                      To our self known: Enter I say.

      Pha. I say no.

                                                              [Meg. Above.

      Meg. Let 'em enter Prince,

                      Let 'em enter, I am up, and ready; I know their business,

                      'Tis the poor breaking of a Ladies honour,

                      They hunt so hotly after; let 'em enjoy it.

                      You have your business Gentlemen, I lay here.

                      O my Lord the King, this is not noble in you

                      To make publick the weakness of a Woman.

      King. Come down.

      Meg. I dare my Lord; your whootings and your clamors,

                      Your private whispers, and your broad fleerings,

                      Can no more vex my soul, than this base carriage;

                      But I have vengeance yet in store for some,

                      Shall in the most contempt you can have of me,

                      Be joy and nourishment.

      King. Will you come down?

      Meg. Yes, to laugh at your worst: but I shall wrong you, If my skill fail me not.

      King. Sir, I must dearly chide you for this looseness, You have wrong'd a worthy Lady; but no more, Conduct him to my lodging, and to bed.

      Cle. Get him another wench, and you bring him to bed in deed.

      Di. 'Tis strange a man cannot ride a Stagg

                      Or two, to breath himself, without a warrant:

                      If this geer hold, that lodgings be search'd thus,

                      Pray heaven we may lie with our own wives in safety,

                      That they be not by some trick of State mistaken.

      [ Enter with Megra.

      King. Now Lady of honour, where's your honour now?

                      No man can fit your palat, but the Prince.

                      Thou most ill shrowded rottenness; thou piece