Adam. If we shall have a pot of ale, let's have it; here's money; hold, tapster, take my purse.
Smith. Come, then, with me, the pot stands full in the house.
Adam. I am for you, let's go, th'art an honest tapster: we'll drink six pots ere we part. [Exeunt Smith, Adam; and Attendants with the dead body.]
Rasni. Beauteous, more bright than beauty in mine eyes,
Tell me, fair sweeting, want'st thou anything
Contain'd within the threefold circle of the world,
That may make Alvida live full content?
Alvi. Nothing, my lord; for all my thoughts are pleas'd,
Whenas mine eye surfeits with Rasni's sight.
Enter the King of Paphlagonia malcontent.
Rasni. Look how thy husband haunts our royal court,
How still his sight breeds melancholy storms.
O, Alvida, I am passing passionate,
And vex'd with wrath and anger to the death!
Mars, when he held fair Venus on his knee,
And saw the limping smith come from his forge,
Had not more deeper furrows in his brow
Than Rasni hath to see this Paphlagon.
Alvi. Content thee, sweet, I'll salve thy sorrow straight;
Rest but the ease of all thy thoughts on me,
And if I make not Rasni blithe again,
Then say that women's fancies have no shifts.
K. of Paph. Sham'st thou not, Rasni, though thou be'st a king,
To shroud adultery in thy royal seat?
Art thou arch-ruler of great Nineveh,
Who shouldst excel in virtue as in state,
And wrong'st thy friend by keeping back his wife?
Have I not battled in thy troops full oft,
'Gainst Ægypt, Jewry, and proud Babylon,
Spending my blood to purchase thy renown,
And is the guerdon of my chivalry
Ended in this abusing of my wife?
Restore her me, or I will from thy court,
And make discourse of thy adulterous deeds.
Rasni. Why, take her, Paphlagon, exclaim not, man;
For I do prize mine honour more than love.—
Fair Alvida, go with thy husband home.
Alvi. How dare I go, sham'd with so deep misdeed?
Revenge will broil within my husband's breast,
And when he hath me in the court at home,
Then Alvida shall feel revenge for all.
Rasni. What say'st thou, King of Paphlagon, to this?
Thou hear'st the doubt thy wife doth stand upon.
If she hath done amiss, it is my fault;
I prithee, pardon and forget [it] all.
K. of Paph. If that I meant not, Rasni, to forgive,
And quite forget the follies that are past,
I would not vouch her presence in my court;
But she shall be my queen, my love, my life,
And Alvida unto her Paphlagon,
And lov'd, and more belovèd than before.
Rasni. What say'st thou, Alvida, to this?
Alvi. That, will he swear it to my lord the king,
And in a full carouse of Greekish wine
Drink down the malice of his deep revenge,
I will go home and love him new again.
Rasni. What answers Paphlagon?
K. of Paph. That what she hath requested I will do.
Alvi. Go, damosel, fetch me that sweet wine
That stands within my closet on the shelf;
Pour it into a standing-bowl of gold,
But, on thy life, taste not before the king:
Make haste.
[Exit Female Attendant.
Why is great Rasni melancholy thus?
If promise be not kept, hate all for me.
[Wine brought in by Female Attendant.
Here is the wine, my lord: first make him swear.
K. of Paph. By Nineveh's great gods, and Nineveh's great king,
My thoughts shall never be to wrong my wife!
And thereon here's a full carouse to her. [Drinks.
Alvi. And thereon, Rasni, here's a kiss for thee;
Now may'st thou freely fold thine Alvida.
K. of Paph. O, I am dead! obstruction's of my breath!
The poison is of wondrous sharp effect.
Cursèd be all adulterous queans, say I!
And cursing so, poor Paphlagon doth die. [Dies.
Alvi. Now, have I not salv'd the sorrows of my lord?
Have I not rid a rival of thy loves?
What say'st thou, Rasni, to thy paramour?
Rasni. That for this deed I'll deck my Alvida
In sendal and in costly sussapine,[86]
Border'd with pearl and India diamond.
I'll cause great Æol perfume all his winds
With richest myrrh and curious ambergris.
Come, lovely minion, paragon for fair,
Come, follow me, sweet goddess of mine eye,
And taste the pleasures Rasni will provide.
[Exeunt.
Oseas. Where whoredom reigns, there murder follows fast,
As falling leaves before the winter blast.
A wicked life, train'd up in endless crime,
Hath no regard unto the latter time,
When lechers shall be punish'd for their lust,
When princes plagu'd because they are unjust.
Foresee in time, the warning bell doth toll;
Subdue the flesh, by prayer to save the soul:
London, behold the cause of others' wrack,
And see the sword of justice at thy back:
Defer not off, to-morrow is too late;
By night he comes perhaps to judge thy state.