Phil. Let it have passage, madam: give me my doom.
Mar. Then, Philocles, knit silence to my words,
And mark thy doom; for thus my stricter will
Loads grief upon thy vainer levity.
Hence, for the space and compass of one year,
Thou shalt abjure the liberty of speech;
Thou shalt not speak for fully twelvemonth's space,
For friend nor foe, for danger nor for death;
But live, like air, with silent emptiness.
Break thou this vow, I'll hold thee for a villain:
And all the world shall know thy perjury.
Phil. Be heaven and earth a witness of my vow
And mine eternal silence!—I am dumb.
Mar. Why so, now shall I not be troubled with vain chat
Or idle prate of idle wantonness:
For love I cannot, therefore 'tis in vain;
Would all my suitors' tongues I thus could rein!
Then should I live free from feign'd sighs and groans,
With, O, take pity, 'tis your servant moans,
And such harsh stuff, that frets me to the heart;
And sonnets made of Cupid's burning dart,
Of Venus' lip, and Juno's majesty;
Then were I freed from fools and foolery.
In May the cuckoo sings: then she'll come hither.
Her voice and yours will rarely tune together.
[Exit Mariana.
Enter Florio.
Flo. Prince Philocles, the king would speak with you.
[Speaks louder and louder.
Prince Philocles, the king would speak with you.
Prince Philocles, the king would speak with you.
[Philocles strikes Florio, and fells him.