KING. I'll pardon thee, dear daughter: but as for him--
AMADINE. Ah, father, what of him?
KING. As sure as I am a king, and wear the crown, I will revenge on that accursed wretch.
MUCEDORUS. Yet, worthy prince, work not thy will in wrath; Show favour.
KING. Aye, such favour as thou deservest.
MUCEDORUS. I do deserve the daughter of a king.
KING. Oh, impudent! a shepherd and so insolent!
MUCEDORUS. No shepherd I, but a worthy prince.
KING. In fair conceit, not princely born.
MUCEDORUS. Yes, princely born: my father is a king, My mother Queen, and of Valentia both.
KING. What, Mucedorus! welcome to our court. What cause hadst thou to come to me disguised?
MUCEDORUS. No cause to fear; I caused no offence But this: Desiring thy daughter's virtues for to see Disguised my self from out my father's court. Unknown to any, in secret I did rest, And passed many troubles near to death; So hath your daughter my partaker been, As you shall know hereafter more at large, Desiring you, you will give her to me, Even as mine own and sovereign of my life; Then shall I think my travels are well spent.
KING. With all my heart, but this-- Segasto claims my promise made to fore, That he should have her as his only wife, Before my counsel when we came from war. Segasto, may I crave thee let it pass, And give Amadine as wife to Mucedorus?
SEGASTO. With all my heart, were it far a greater thing, And what I may to furnish up there rites With pleasing sports and pastimes you shall see.
KING. Thanks, good Segasto, I will think of this.
MUCEDORUS. Thanks, good my Lord, & while I live Account of me in what I can or may.
AMADINE. And, good Segasto, these great courtesies Shall not be forgot.
MOUSE. Why, hark you, master: bones, what have you done? What, given away the wench you made me take such pains for? you are wise indeed! mas, and I had known of that I would have had her my self! faither, master, now we may go to breakfast with a woodcoke pie.
SEGASTO. Go, sir, you were best leave this knavery.
KING. Come on, my Lords, let's now to court, Where we may finish up the joyfullest day That ever hapt to a distressed King. Were but thy Father, the Valencia Lord, Present in view of this combining knot.
[A shout within. Enter a Messenger.]
What shout was that?
MESSENGER. My Lord, the great Valencia King, Newly arrived, entreats your presence.
MUCEDORUS. My Father?
KING OF ARRAGON. Prepared welcomes give him entertainment: A happier Planet never reigned than that, Which governs at this hour.
[Sound. Enter the King of Valencia, Anselmo, Rodrigo, Borachius, with others; the King runs and embraces his Son.]
KING OF VALENCIA. Rise, honour of my age, food to my rest: Condemn not mighty King of Aragon My rude behaviour, so compelled by Nature, That manners stood unknowledged.
KING OF ARRAGON. What we have to recite would tedious prove By declaration; therefore, in, and feast: To morrow the performance shall explain, What Words conceal; till then, Drums speak, Bells ring, Give plausive welcomes to our brother King.
[Sound Drums and Trumpets. Exeunt omnes.]
EPILOGUE.
[Enter Comedy and Envy.]
COMEDY. How now, Envy? what, blushest thou all ready? Peep forth, hide not thy head with shame, But with a courage praise a woman's deeds. Thy threats were vain, thou couldst do me no hurt. Although thou seemdst to cross me with despite, I overwhelmed, and turned upside down thy block And made thy self to stumble at the same.
ENVY. Though stumbled, yet not overthrown. Thou canst not draw my heart to mildness; Yet must I needs confess thou hast done well, And played thy part with mirth and pleasant glee: Say all this, yet canst thou not conquer me; Although this time thou hast got--yet not the conquest neither-- A double revenge another time I'll have.
COMEDY. Envy, spit thy gall; Plot, work, contrive; create new fallacies, Teem from thy Womb each minute a black Traitor, Whose blood and thoughts have twins conception: Study to act deeds yet unchronicled, Cast native Monsters in the molds of Men, Case vicious Devils under sancted Rochets, Unhasp the Wicket where all perjureds roost, And swarm this Ball with treasons: do thy worst; Thou canst not hell-hound cross my star to night, Nor blind that glory, where I wish delight.