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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 41930 ***
+
+    A SELECT COLLECTION
+
+    OF
+
+    OLD ENGLISH PLAYS.
+
+    ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED BY ROBERT DODSLEY
+    IN THE YEAR 1744.
+
+    _FOURTH EDITION._
+
+    NOW FIRST CHRONOLOGICALLY ARRANGED, REVISED AND ENLARGED
+    WITH THE NOTES OF ALL THE COMMENTATORS,
+    AND NEW NOTES
+
+    BY
+
+    W. CAREW HAZLITT.
+
+    BENJAMIN BLOM, INC.
+
+    [Illustration]
+
+    New York
+
+
+
+
+A WOMAN IS A WEATHERCOCK.
+
+
+
+
+_EDITION._
+
+
+    _A Woman is a Weather-cocke. A New Comedy. As it was acted
+    before the King in White-Hall. And diuers times Priuately at the
+    White-Friers, by the Children of her Maiesties Reuels. Written
+    by Nat: Field._ Si natura negat, faciat indagnatio [sic] versum.
+    _Printed at London, for Iohn Budge, and are to be sold at the
+    great South doore of Paules, and at Brittaines Bursse._ 1612.
+    4º.
+
+The old copy is very carelessly printed, and nearly all the corruptions
+and mistakes were retained in the former edition (1828).
+
+
+
+
+[MR COLLIER'S PREFACE.]
+
+
+Considering the celebrity that Nathaniel Field has acquired in
+consequence of his connection with Massinger in writing "The Fatal
+Dowry," it is singular that the two plays in which he was unaided by any
+contemporary dramatist should not yet have been reprinted, if only to
+assist the formation of a judgment as to the probable degree of
+Massinger's obligation. "A Woman is a Weathercock" and its sequel,
+"Amends for Ladies," are the productions of no ordinary poet. In comic
+scenes Field excels Massinger, who was not remarkable for his success in
+this department of the drama; and in those of a serious character he may
+be frequently placed on a footing of equality.[1]
+
+Reed was of opinion that Field the actor was not the same person who
+joined Massinger in "The Fatal Dowry," and who wrote the two plays above
+mentioned; but the discovery of Henslowe's MSS. shows that they were
+intimately connected in authorship and misfortune. The joint letter of
+Nathaniel Field, Rob. Daborne, and Philip Massinger to Henslowe,
+soliciting a small loan to relieve them from temporary imprisonment, has
+been so often republished (see Malone's Shakespeare, by Boswell, iii.
+337) that it is unnecessary to repeat it here.[2] Field, who penned the
+whole body of the letter, speaks in it of himself, both as an author and
+as an actor. It is without date, and Malone conjectured that it was
+written between 1612 and 1615. But from the Dedication to "A Woman is a
+Weathercock," we should conclude that in 1612 Field was not distressed
+for money. He there tells "any woman that hath been no weathercock" that
+he "cared not for forty shillings," the sum then usually given by the
+person to whom the play was inscribed. This assertion, perhaps, was only
+a vain boast, while the fact might be, either that he could not get
+anybody to patronise "so fameless a pen," or that, although he might not
+just at that moment be in want of "forty shillings," he might stand in
+need of it very soon afterwards, according to the customary irregular
+mode of living of persons of his pursuits and profession.
+
+It might be inferred from a passage in the address "to the Reader," that
+"A Woman is a Weathercock"[3] was written some time before it was
+printed; and from the dedication of the same play, we learn that Field's
+"Amends for Ladies," if not then also finished, was fully contemplated
+by the author under that title. An allusion to the Gunpowder Treason of
+1605 is made in the first act of "A Woman is a Weathercock;" but it
+could not have been produced so early.
+
+Nathaniel Field was originally one of the Children of Queen Elizabeth's
+Chapel. Malone tells us that he played in "Cynthia's Revels" in 1601;
+but we have it on the authority of Ben Jonson himself, in the folio of
+1616, that that "comical satire" was acted in 1600. In 1601 Field
+performed in "The Poetaster," and in 1608 he appeared in "Epicæne,"
+which purports to have been represented by the "Children of her
+Majesty's Revels," for so those of Queen Elizabeth's Chapel were then
+called. In 1600 Field was, perhaps, one of the younger children, for in
+1609 all the names of the company but his own were changed, many no
+doubt having outgrown their situations. He was, therefore, evidently a
+very young man when he published his "Woman is a Weathercock" in 1612.
+Only one edition of it is known, but "Amends for Ladies" was twice
+published by the same stationer, viz., in 1618 and 1639. Mr Gifford
+conjectured very reasonably that Field had assisted Massinger in writing
+"The Fatal Dowry" before 1623.[4] He belonged to the Blackfriars
+company, and Fleckno speaks of him as a performer of great
+distinction.[5] According to the portrait in Dulwich College, he had
+rather a feminine look, and early in his career undertook female parts,
+which he afterwards abandoned, and obtained much celebrity as the hero
+of Chapman's "Bussy d'Ambois," originally brought out in 1607. In a
+prologue to the edition of 1641, Field is spoken of as the player "whose
+action _first_ did give it name." It has also been supposed that he was
+dead in 1641, because in the same prologue, it is asserted "Field is
+gone," but the expression is equivocal. The probability seems to be that
+he quitted the profession early, and in the address to "A Woman is a
+Weathercock," he gives a hint that he will only be heard of in it "for a
+year or two, and no more."[6]
+
+"Amends for Ladies" will be found, on the whole, a superior performance
+to "A Woman is a Weathercock," and if the order of merit only had been
+consulted, it ought to have been first reprinted in this collection.
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+  [1] Mr Gifford, with that zeal for the author under his hands which
+  always distinguished him (and without a single reference to Field's
+  unassisted comedies which, in fact, have remained unnoticed by
+  everybody), attributes to Field, in "The Fatal Dowry," all that he
+  thinks unworthy his notion of Massinger. We are to recollect, however,
+  that Field continued one of the Children of the Revels as late as
+  1609, and that when "A Woman is a Weathercock" was printed in 1612, he
+  must have been scarcely of age.
+
+  [2] Two other letters from Field to Henslowe are printed for the first
+  time in Malone's Shakespeare, by Boswell, xxi. 395 and 404. One is
+  subscribed "Your loving and obedient son," and the other "Your loving
+  son," and both request advances of money; the first on a play, in the
+  writing of which Field was engaged with Robert Daborne, and the
+  second, in consequence of Field having been "taken on an execution of
+  £30." They have no dates, but others with which they are found are in
+  1613.
+
+  [3] It is tolerably clear that the drama was written in 1609. See the
+  allusion to the war in Cleveland, as then going on, at p. 28.
+
+  [4] Mr Gifford also states (Massinger, i. 67), that he joined Heminge
+  and Condell in the publication of the folio Shakespeare of 1623.
+
+  [5] Ben Jonson, in his "Bartholomew Fair," act v. sc. 3, couples him
+  with Burbage, and speaks of him as the "best actor" of the day. This
+  play was produced in 1614.
+
+  [6] Taylor the Water-poet, in his "Wit and Mirth," introduces a
+  supposed anecdote of "Master Field the player," which is only a pun
+  upon the word _post_, and that not made by Field. Taylor had it,
+  probably, from some earlier collection of jokes, and the compiler of
+  Hugh Peters' Jests, 1660, had it from Taylor, and told it of his hero.
+
+
+
+
+TO ANY WOMAN THAT HATH BEEN NO WEATHERCOCK.
+
+
+I did determine not to have dedicated my play to anybody, because forty
+shillings I care not for![7] and above few or none will bestow on these
+matters, especially falling from so fameless a pen as mine is yet. And
+now I look up, and find to whom my dedication is, I fear I am as good as
+my determination: notwithstanding, I leave a liberty to any lady or
+woman, that dares say she hath been no weathercock, to assume the title
+of patroness to this my book. If she have been constant, and be so, all
+I will expect from her for my pains is that she will continue so but
+till my next play be printed, wherein she shall see what amends I have
+made to her and all the sex,[8] and so I end my epistle without a Latin
+sentence.
+
+    N.F.
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+  [7] Malone, in his "History of the Stage," quotes this passage to show
+  that such was, in Field's day, the ordinary price of the dedication of
+  a play. Malone's Shakespeare, by Boswell, iii. 164.
+
+  [8] Referring to his "Amends for Ladies," first printed in 1618, and
+  afterwards in 1639.
+
+
+
+
+TO THE READER.
+
+
+Reader, the saleman swears you'll take it very ill, if I say not
+something to you too. In troth, you are a stranger to me: why should I
+write to you? you never writ to me, nor I think will not answer my
+epistle. I send a comedy to you here, as good as I could then make; nor
+slight my presentation, because it is a play; for I tell thee, reader,
+if thou be'st ignorant, a play is not so idle a thing as thou art, but a
+mirror of men's lives and actions; nor, be it perfect or imperfect, true
+or false, is the vice or virtue of the maker. This is yet, as well as I
+can, _qualis ego vel Cluvienus_. Thou must needs have some other
+language than thy mother-tongue, for thou think'st it impossible for me
+to write a play, that did not use a word of Latin, though he had enough
+in him. I have been vexed with vile plays myself a great while, hearing
+many; now I thought to be even with some, and they should hear mine too.
+Fare thee well: if thou hast anything to say to me, thou know'st where
+to hear of me for a year or two, and no more, I assure thee.
+
+    N.F.
+
+
+
+
+TO HIS LOVED SON,[9] NAT. FIELD, AND HIS WEATHERCOCK WOMAN.
+
+
+    To many forms, as well as many ways,
+      Thy active muse turns like thy acted woman:
+    In which disprais'd inconstancy turns praise;
+      Th' addition being, and grace of Homer's seaman,
+    In this life's rough seas toss'd, yet still the same:
+      So turns thy wit, inconstancy to stay,
+    And stay t' inconstancy. And as swift Fame
+      Grows as she goes, in Fame so thrive thy play,
+    And thus to standing turn thy woman's fall:
+    Wit, turn'd to everything, proves stay in all.
+
+    GEORGE CHAPMAN.
+
+  [9] It was not unusual for elder poets to call the younger their
+  _sons_. Ben Jonson allowed this title to Randolph, Howell, and others.
+  Field also subscribes himself to old Henslowe the manager, "your
+  loving _son_."
+
+
+
+
+DRAMATIS PERSONÆ
+
+
+    COUNT FREDERICK.
+    SIR JOHN WORLDLY.
+    NEVILL.
+    SCUDMORE.
+    STRANGE.
+    PENDANT.
+    CAPTAIN POUTS.
+    SIR INNOCENT NINNY.
+    SIR ABRAHAM NINNY.
+    BELLAFRONT.
+    KATHERINE.
+    LUCIDA.
+    LADY NINNY.
+    MISTRESS WAGTAIL
+    _A Priest._
+    _A Page._
+    _Servants._
+
+
+
+
+A WOMAN IS A WEATHERCOCK.
+
+
+
+
+ACT I., SCENE 1.
+
+
+_Enter_ SCUDMORE, _as in his chamber in a morning, half-ready, reading a
+letter_.
+
+    SCUD. _legit_. "Whereas you write, my fortune and my birth,
+    Made above yours, may be a real cause
+    That I must leave you, know, thou worthiest man,
+    Thou hast a soul whose plenteous wealth supplies
+    All the lean wants blind chance hath dealt to thee.
+    Yet could I think the gods from all their store,
+    Who ne'er knew indigence unto their will,
+    Would out of all their stock of virtue left,
+    Or out of all new graces they can make,
+    Make such another piece as Scudmore is,
+    Then might he justly fear; but otherwise
+    Sooner the masculine element of fire
+    Shall flame his pyramids down to the earth;
+    Sooner her mountains shall swell up to heaven,
+    Or softest April showers quench fires in hell:
+    Sooner shall stars from this circumference
+    Drop like false fiery exhalation,
+    Than I be false to vows made unto thee,
+    In whom aught near a fault I ne'er could see,
+    But that you doubted once my constancy.
+      Yours through the world, and to the end of time.
+                                           BELLAFRONT."
+
+    SCUD. _Loqui, ut raptus_. If what I feel I could express in words,
+    Methinks I could speak joy enough to men
+    To banish sadness from all love for ever!
+    O thou, that reconcil'st the faults of all
+    That frothy sex, and in thy single self
+    Confin'st--nay, hast engross'd, virtue enough
+    To frame a spacious world of virtuous women,
+    Hadst thou been the beginning of thy sex,
+    I think the devil in the serpent's skin
+    Had wanted cunning to o'ercome thy goodness,
+    And all had liv'd and died in innocency--
+    The white original creation!               [_Knocking within._
+    Who's there? Come in.
+
+_Enter_ NEVILL.
+
+    NEV. What, up already, Scudmore! Ne'er a wench
+    With thee? Not [e'en] thy laundress?
+
+    SCUD. Good morrow, my dear Nevill.
+
+    NEV. What's this? A letter? Sure, it is not so--
+    A letter written to Hieronimo.[10]
+
+    SCUD. By heaven! you must excuse me. Come, I know,
+    You will not wrong my friendship and your manners
+    To tempt me so.
+
+    NEV. Not for the world, my friend.
+    Farewell, good morrow.                            [_Exiturus._
+
+    SCUD. Nay, sir, neither must you
+    Depart in anger from this friendly hand.
+    I swear I love you better than all men,
+    Equally with all virtue in the world;
+    Yet this would be a key to lead you to
+    A prize of that importance----
+
+    NEV. Worthy friend,
+    I leave you not in anger: what d'ye mean?
+    Nor am I of that inquisitive nature fram'd
+    To thirst to know your private businesses.
+    Why, they concern not me: if they be ill
+    And dangerous, 'twould grieve me much to know 'em;
+    If good, they be so, though I know 'em not.
+    Nor would I do your love so gross a wrong
+    To covet to participate affairs
+    Of that near touch, which your assured love
+    Doth think not fit, or dares not trust me with.
+
+    SCUD. How sweetly does your friendship play with mine,
+    And with a simple subtlety steals my heart
+    Out of my bosom. By the holiest love
+    That ever made a story, you're a man
+    With all good so replete, that I durst trust you
+    Ev'n with this secret, were it singly mine.
+
+    NEV. I do believe you. Farewell, worthy friend.
+
+    SCUD. Nay, look you; this same fashion does not please me:
+    You were not wont to make your visitation
+    So short and careless.
+
+    NEV. 'Tis your jealousy
+    That makes you think so; for, by my soul,
+    You have given me no distaste by keeping from me
+    All things that might be burthenous, and oppress me.
+    In troth, I am invited to a wedding,
+    And the morn faster goes away from me,
+    Than I go toward it; and so, good morrow.
+
+    SCUD. Good morrow, sir: think I durst show it you.
+
+    NEV. Now, by my life, I not desire it, sir,
+    Nor ever lov'd these prying, listening men,
+    That ask of others' states and passages:
+    Not one among a hundred but proves false,
+    Envious, and slanderous, and will cut that throat
+    He twines his arms about. I love that poet,
+    That gave us reading[11] not to seek ourselves
+    Beyond ourselves. Farewell.
+
+    SCUD. You shall not go:
+    I cannot now redeem the fault I have made
+    To such a friend, but in disclosing all.
+
+    NEV. Now, if you love me, do not wrong me so.
+    I see you labour with some serious thing,
+    And think (like fairy's treasure) to reveal it,
+    Will cause it vanish; and yet to conceal it,
+    Will burst your breast: 'tis so delicious,
+    And so much greater than the continent.
+
+    SCUD. O! you have pierc'd my entrails with your words,
+    And I must now explain all to your eyes.
+    Read, and be happy in my happiness.
+
+    NEV. Yet think on't: keep thy secret and thy friend
+    Sure and entire. O, give not me the means
+    To become false hereafter! or thyself
+    A probable reason to distrust thy friend,
+    Though he be ne'er so true. I will not see't.
+
+    SCUD. I die, by heaven, if you deny again.
+    I starve for counsel: take it: look upon it.
+    If you do not, it is an equal plague,
+    As if it had been known and published.
+    For God's sake, read! but with this caution--
+    By this right hand, by this yet unstain'd sword.
+    Were you my father flowing in these waves,
+    Or a dear son exhausted out of them,
+    Should you betray this soul of all my hopes,
+    Like the two brethren (though love made 'em stars)
+    We must be never more seen both together.[12]
+
+    NEV. I read it fearless of the forfeiture;
+    Yet warn you, be as cautelous not to wound
+    My integrity with doubting[13] likelihoods,
+    From misreport; but first exquire the truth.
+                 [_Legit_ NEVILL, SCUDMORE _aliquando respiciens_.
+
+    SCUD. Read, whilst I tell the story of my love,
+    And sound the truth of her heroic spirit,
+    Whom eloquence could never flatter yet,
+    Nor the best tongue of praises reach unto.
+    The maid there nam'd I met once on a green,
+    Near to her father's house: methought she show'd--
+    For I did look on her, indeed no eye
+    That ow'd a sensible member, but must dwell
+    A while on such an object:
+    The passing horses and the feeding kine
+    Stood still, and left their journeys and their food:
+    The singing birds were in contention,
+    Which should 'light nearest her; for her clear eyes
+    Deceiv'd even men, they were so like bright skies.
+    Near, in a rivulet, swam two beauteous swans,
+    Whiter than anything but her neck and hands,
+    Which they left straight to comfort her: a bull
+    Being baiting on the green for the swains' sport,
+    She walking toward it: the vex'd savage beast
+    Ceas'd bellowing, the snarling dogs were mute,
+    And had enough to do to look on her,
+    Whose face brought concord and an end of jars,
+    Though nature made 'em ever to have wars,
+    Had there been bears and lions, when she spake,
+    They had been charm'd too; for Grecian's lute
+    Was rustic music to her heavenly tongue,
+    Whose sweetness e'en cast slumbers on mine eyes,
+    Soft as content, yet would not let me sleep.
+
+    NEV. "Yours through the world, and to the end of time
+                                               BELLAFRONT."
+
+    Which Bellafront? rich Sir John Worldly's daughter?
+
+    SCUD. She is the food, the sleep, the air I live by.
+
+    NEV. O heaven! we speak like gods and do like dogs.
+
+    SCUD. What means my----
+
+    NEV. This day this Bellafront, the rich heir,
+    Is married unto Count Frederick,
+    And that's the wedding I was going to.
+
+    SCUD. I prythee, do not mock me. Married!
+
+    NEV. It is no matter to be play'd withal,
+    But even as true, as women all are false.
+
+    SCUD. O, that this stroke were thunder to my breast;
+    For, Nevill, thou hast spoke my heart in twain,
+    And with the sudden whirlwind of thy breath
+    Hast ravish'd me out of a temperate soil,
+    And set me under the red burning zone.
+
+    NEV. For shame! return thy blood into thy face.
+    Know'st not how slight a thing a woman is?
+
+    SCUD. Yes, and how serious too. Come! I'll t' the Temple:
+    She shall not damn herself for want of counsel.
+
+    NEV. O, prythee, run not thus into the streets!
+    Come, dress you better: so. Ah! yes,[14] thy clothes
+    Are, like thy mind, too much disordered.
+    How strangely is this tide turn'd! For a world,
+    I would not but have call'd here as I went.
+    Collect thy spirits: we will use all means
+    To check this black fate flying toward thee. Come!
+    If thou miscarriest, 'tis my day of doom.
+
+    SCUD. Yes--now I'm fine. Married! It may be so;
+    But, women, look to't: if she prove untrue,
+    The devil take you all, that are his due!           [_Exeunt._
+
+
+SCENE II.
+
+_Enter_ COUNT FREDERICK, _a tailor trussing him; attended by a page_.
+
+    C. FRED. Is Sir John Worldly up, boy?
+
+    BOY. No, my Lord.
+
+    C. FRED. Is my bride up yet?
+
+    BOY. No.
+
+    C. FRED. No! and the morn so fair?
+
+_Enter_ PENDANT.
+
+PEN. Good morrow, my thrice honoured and heroic lord.
+
+BOY. Good morrow, your lord and master, you might say, for brevity sake.
+
+                                                         [_Aside._
+
+    C. FRED. Thou'st a good tailor, and art very fine.
+
+    PEN. I thank your lordship.
+
+    BOY. Ay, you may thank his lordship indeed.          [_Aside._
+
+    PEN. 'Fore God, this doublet sets in print, my lord;
+    And the hose excellent; the pickadel[15] rare.
+
+    BOY. He'll praise himself in trust with my lord's tailor.
+    For the next St George's suit.
+
+    C. FRED. O, good morrow, tailor;
+    I abhor bills in a morning.
+
+    PEN. Your honour says true:
+    Their knavery will be discern'd by daylight;
+    But thou may'st watch at night with bill in hand,
+    And no man dares find fault with it.
+
+TAILOR. A good jest, i' faith. Good morrow to your lordship. A very
+good jest.
+
+                                                    [_Exit_ TAILOR.
+
+ C. FRED. I wonder my invited guests are so tardy. What's o'clock?
+
+ PEN. Scarce seven, my lord.
+
+    C. FRED. And what news, Pendant?
+    What think'st thou of my present marriage?
+    How shows the beauty to thee I shall wed?
+
+    PEN. Why, to all women like Diana among her nymphs.
+
+    BOY. There's all his reading.                        [_Aside._
+
+    PEN. A beauty of that pureness and delight,
+    That none is worthy of her but my lord,
+    My honourable lord.
+
+    C. FRED. But then her fortune,
+    Match'd with her beauty, makes her up a match.
+
+    PEN. By heaven, unmatchable!--for none fit but lords,
+    And yet for no lord fit but my good lord.
+
+    C. FRED. And that her sister, then, should love me too,
+    Is it not strange?
+
+    PEN. Strange? no, not strange at all.
+    By Cupid, there's no woman in the world
+    But must needs love you, doat, go mad for you.
+    If you vouchsafe reflection, 'tis a thing
+    That does it home: thus much reflection
+    Catches 'em up by dozens like wild fowl.
+
+    BOY. Now, ye shall taste the means, by which he eats.    [_Aside._
+
+    PEN. Nature herself, having made you, fell sick
+    In love with her own work, and can no more
+    Make man so lovely, being diseas'd with love.
+    You are the world's minion, of a little man.
+    I'll say no more: I would not be a woman
+    For all has been got by them.
+
+    C. FRED. Why, man, why?
+
+    PEN. Heart! I should follow you like a young rank whore,
+    That runs proud of her love; pluck you by the sleeve,
+    Whoe'er were with you, in the open street,
+    With the impudency of a drunken oyster-wife;
+    Put on my fighting waistcoat and the ruff,
+    That fears no tearing; batter down the windows,
+    Where I suspected you might lie all night;
+    Scratch faces, like a wild-cat of Pick'd-hatch.[16]
+
+    C. FRED. Pendant, thou'lt make me doat upon myself.
+
+    PEN. Narcissus, by this hand, had far less cause.
+
+    C. FRED. How know'st thou that?
+
+    BOY. They were all one, my lord.
+
+    PEN. How do I know? I speak my conscience:
+    His beauties were but shadows to my lord.
+    Why, boy, his presence would enkindle sin
+    And longing thoughts in a devoted nun.
+    O foot! O leg! O hand! O body! face!
+    By Jove, it is a little man of wax.
+
+    C. FRED. Thou'rt a rare rascal: 'tis not for nothing
+    That men call thee my Commendations.
+
+    BOY. For nothing? no; he would be loth it should.
+
+_Enter_ CAPTAIN POUTS.
+
+    C. FRED. Good morrow, and good welcome, Captain Pouts.
+
+    CAPT. POUTS. _Good morning to your honour, and all joy
+    Spring from this match, and the first year a boy!_
+    I commanded[17] these two verses o' purpose to salute your honour.
+
+C. FRED. But how haps it, Captain, that your intended marriage with my
+father-in-law's third daughter is not solemnised to-day?
+
+PEN. My lord tells you true, Captain; it would have saved meat.
+
+CAPT. POUTS. Faith, I know not. Mistress Kate likes me not; she says I
+speak as if I had pudding in my mouth, and I answered her, if I had, it
+was a white pudding,[18] and then I was the better armed for a woman;
+for I had a case about me. So one laughed, and the other cried fie: the
+third said I was a bawdy captain; and there was all I could get of them.
+
+C. FRED. See, boy, if they be up yet: maids are long liers, I perceive.
+
+BOY. How if they will not admit me, my lord.
+
+C. FRED. Why, should they not admit you, my lord, you cannot commit with
+'em, my lord.
+
+    BOY. Marry, therefore, my lord.                   [_Exit_ BOY.
+
+C. FRED. But what should be the reason of her so sudden alteration? she
+listened to thee once, ha?
+
+PEN. Have you not heard, my lord, or do ye not know?
+
+C. FRED. Not I, I swear.
+
+PEN. Then you know nothing that is worth the knowing.
+
+CAPT. POUTS. That's certain: he knows you.
+
+PEN. There's a young merchant, a late suitor, that deals by wholesale,
+and heir to land, well-descended, of worthy education, beholding to
+nature.
+
+C. FRED. O, 'tis young Strange.
+
+CAPT. POUTS. Is't he that looks like an Italian tailor out of the lac'd
+wheel?[19] that wears a bucket on his head?
+
+C. FRED. That is the man: yet believe me, captain, it is a noble
+sprightly citizen.
+
+CAPT. POUTS. Has he money?
+
+C. FRED. Infinitely wealthy.
+
+CAPT. POUTS. Then, captain, thou art cast. Would I had gone to
+Cleveland! Worldly loves money better than I love his daughter. I'll to
+some company in garrison. Good bye.
+
+    C. FRED. Nay, ye shall dedicate this day to me.
+    We speak but by the way, man: ne'er despair;
+    I can assure you, she is yet as free as air.
+
+    PEN. And you may kill the merchant with a look:
+    I'd threaten him to death. My honor'd lord
+    Shall be your friend: go to, I say he shall:
+    You shall have his good word. Shall he, my lord?
+
+    C. FRED. 'Sfoot! he shall have my bond to do him good.
+
+    PEN. La! 'tis the worthiest lord in Christendom.
+    O captain, for some fourscore brave spirits, once
+    To follow such a lord in some attempt!
+
+    CAPT. POUTS. A hundred, sir, were better.
+
+_Enter_ OLD SIR INNOCENT NINNY, MY LADY NINNY, SIR ABRAHAM, _and_
+MISTRESS WAGTAIL.
+
+    C. FRED. Here's more guests.
+
+    CAPT. POUTS. Is that man and wife?
+
+    PEN. It is Sir Innocent Ninny: that's his lady,
+    And that Sir Abraham, their only son.
+       [_Count Frederick discoursing with Sir Innocent and Lady: Abraham
+         looking about._
+
+CAPT. POUTS. But did that little old dried neat's tongue, that eel-skin,
+get him?
+
+PEN. So 'tis said, captain.
+
+CAPT, POUTS. Methinks he in his lady should show like a needle in a
+bottle of hay.
+
+PEN. One may see by her nose what pottage she loves.
+
+CAPT. POUTS. Is your name Abraham? Pray, who dwells in your mother's
+backside,[20] at the sign of the aqua-vitæ bottle?
+
+    PEN. God's precious! Save you, Mistress Wagtail.
+                                             [_Pulls her by the sleeve._
+
+WAG. Sweet Master Pendant.
+
+ABRA. Gentlemen, I desire your better acquaintance. You must pardon my
+father; he's somewhat rude, and my mother grossly brought up, as you may
+perceive.
+
+    C. FRED. Young Master Abraham! cry ye mercy, sir.
+
+    ABRA. Your lordship's poor friend, and Sir Abraham Ninny.
+    The dub-a-dub of honour, piping hot
+    Doth lie upon my worship's shoulder-blade.
+
+SIR INN. Indeed, my lord, with much cost and labour we have got him
+knighted; and being knighted under favour, my lord, let me tell ye he'll
+prove a sore knight, as e'er run at ring. He is the one and only Ninny
+of our house.
+
+    L. NIN. He has cost us something, ere he came to this.
+    Hold up your head, Sir Abraham.
+
+    ABRA. Pish, pish, pish, pish!
+
+    C. FRED. D'ye hear how--
+
+    PEN. O my lord.
+
+    CAPT. POUTS. I had well hoped she could not have spoke, she is so
+      fat.
+
+    C. FRED. Long may'st thou wear thy knighthood; and thy spurs
+    Prick thee to honour on, and prick off curs.
+
+ABRA. Sir Abraham thanks your honour, and I hope your lordship will
+consider the simplicity of parents: a couple of old fools, my lord, and
+I pray so take 'em.
+
+OMNES. Ha! ha! ha!
+
+ABRA. I must be fain to excuse you here: you'll be needs coming abroad
+with me. If I had no more wit than you now, we should be finely laughed
+at.
+
+SIR INN. By'r lady, his worship says well: wife, we'll trouble him no
+longer. With your honour's leave, I'll in and see my old friend Sir
+John, your father that shall be.
+
+    L. NIN. I'll in, too, and see if your bride need no dressing.
+                                  [_Exeunt_ SIR INNOCENT _and lady_.[21]
+
+    C. FRED. 'Sfoot, as much as a tripe, I think:
+    Haste them, I pray. Captain, what thinkest thou
+    Of such a woman in a long sea voyage,
+    Where there were a dearth of victuals?
+
+CAPT. POUTS. Venison, my lord, venison.
+
+PEN. I'faith, my lord, such venison as a bear is.
+
+CAPT. POUTS. Heart! she looks like a black bombard[22] with a pint pot
+waiting upon it.
+
+                                              [_Exit_ MRS WAGTAIL.
+
+C. FRED. What countrymen were your ancestors, Sir Abraham?
+
+ABRA. Countrymen! they were no countrymen: I scorn it. They were
+gentlemen all: my father is a Ninny, and my mother was a Hammer.
+
+CAPT. POUTS. You should be a knocker, then, by the mother's side.
+
+ABRA. I pray, my lord, what is yon gentleman? He looks so like a Saracen
+that, as I am a Christian, I cannot endure him.
+
+C. FRED. Take heed what you say, sir; he's a soldier.
+
+PEN. If you cross him, he'll blow you up with gunpowder.
+
+ABRA. In good faith, he looks as if he had had a hand in the
+treason.[23] I'll take my leave.
+
+C. FRED. Nay, good Sir Abraham, you shall not leave us.
+
+PEN. My lord shall be your warrant.
+
+ABRA. My lord shall be my warrant? Troth, I do not see that a lord's
+warrant is better than any other man's, unless it be to lay one by the
+heels. I shall stay here, and ha' my head broke, and then I ha' my
+mends in my own hands; and then my lord's warrant will help me to a
+plaister, that's all.
+
+C. FRED. Come, come; captain, pray shake the hand of acquaintance with
+this gentleman: he is in bodily fear of you.
+
+CAPT. POUTS. Sir, I use not to bite any man.
+
+ABRA. Indeed, sir, that would show you are no gentleman. I would you
+would bid me be covered. I am a knight. I was knighted o'purpose to come
+a-wooing to Mistress Lucida, the middle sister, Sir John Worldly's
+second daughter, and she said she would have me, if I could make her a
+lady, and I can do't now. O, here she comes.
+
+_Enter_ SIR JOHN WORLDLY, MASTER STRANGE, KATE, _and_ LUCIDA _with a
+   willow garland_.
+
+C. FRED. My bride will never be ready, I think. Here are the other
+sisters.
+
+PEN. Look you, my lord: there's Lucida wears the willow garland for you,
+and will so go to church, I hear. And look you, captain, that's the
+merchant.
+
+    ABRA. Now doth the pot of love boil in my bosom:
+    Cupid doth blow the fire; and----
+    I cannot rhyme to bosom; but I'll go reason with her.
+
+SIR J. WOR. You'll make her jointure of that five hundred, you say, that
+is your inheritance, Master Strange?
+
+    STRANGE. Sir, I will.
+
+    SIR J. WOR. Kate, do you love him?
+
+    KATE. Yes, faith, father, with all my heart.
+
+    SIR J. WOR. Take hands: kiss him. Her portion is four thousand.
+    Good morrow, my son Count: you stay long for your bride;
+    But this is the day that sells her, and she
+    Must come forth like my daughter and your wife.
+    I pray, salute this gentleman as your brother;
+    This morn shall make him so, and though, his habit
+    But speak him citizen, I know his worth
+    To be gentle in all parts. Captain!
+
+    CAPT. POUTS. Sir.
+
+    SIR J. WOR. Captain, I could have been contented well,
+    You should have married Kate.
+
+    KATE. So could not Kate.      [_Aside._]
+
+    SIR J. WOR. You have an honourable title.
+    A soldier is a very honourable title:
+    A captain is a commander of soldiers;
+    But look you, captain; captains have no money;
+    Therefore the Worldlys must not match with captains.
+
+    CAPT. POUTS. So, sir, so.
+
+    SIR J. WOR. There are brave wars.
+
+    CAPT. POUTS. Where?
+
+    SIR J. WOR. Find them out, brave captain.
+    Win honour and get money; by that time
+    I'll get a daughter for my noble captain.
+
+    CAPT. POUTS. Good, sir, good.
+
+    SIR J. WOR. Honour is honour, but it is no money.
+    This is the tumbler, then, must catch the coney.
+                                                   [_Aspiciens_ STRANGE.
+
+    CAPT. POUTS. Thou art an old[24] fellow. Are you a merchant, sir?
+
+    STRANGE. I shame not to say yes. Are you a soldier, sir?
+
+    ABRA. A soldier, sir? O God! Ay, he is a captain.
+
+    STRANGE. He may be so, and yet no soldier, sir;
+    For as many are soldiers, that are no captains,
+    So many are captains, that are no soldiers.
+
+    CAPT. POUTS. Right, sir: and as many are citizens that are no
+    cuckolds----
+
+    STRANGE. So many are cuckolds that are no citizens. What ail you,
+    sir, with your robustious looks?
+
+    CAPT. POUTS. I would be glad to see for my money: I have paid for my
+    standing.
+
+    STRANGE. You are the nobler captain, sir;
+    For I know many that usurp that name,
+    Whose standings pay for them.
+
+    CAPT. POUTS. You are a peddler.
+
+    STRANGE. You are a pot-gun.
+
+    CAPT. POUTS. Merchant, I would thou hadst an iron tail,
+    Like me.
+
+    C. FRED. Fie, captain! You are to blame.
+
+    PEN. Nay, God's will! You are to blame indeed, if my lord say so.
+
+    CAPT. POUTS. My lord's an ass, and you are another.
+
+    ABRA. Sweet Mistress Luce, let you and I withdraw:
+    This is his humour. Send for the constable!
+
+    CAPT. POUTS. Sirrah, I'll beat you with a pudding on the 'Change.
+
+    STRANGE. Thou dar'st as well kiss the wide-mouthed cannon
+    At his discharging, as perform as much
+    As thou dar'st speak; for, soldier, you shall know,
+    Some can use swords, that wear 'em not for show.
+
+KATE. Why, captain, though ye be a man of war, you cannot subdue
+affection. You have no alacrity in your eye, and you speak as if you
+were in a dream. You are of so melancholy and dull a disposition, that
+on my conscience you would never get children; nay, nor on my body
+neither; and what a sin were it in me, and a most pregnant sign of
+concupiscence, to marry a man that wants the mettle of generation, since
+that is the blessing ordained for marriage, procreation the only end of
+it. Besides, if I could love you, I shall be here at home, and you in
+Cleveland abroad--I among the bold Britons, and you among the hot-shots.
+
+    SIR J. WOR. No more puffing, captain;
+    Leave batteries with your breath: the short is this.
+    This worthy count this morning makes my son,
+    And with that happy marriage this proceeds.
+    Worldly's my name, worldly must be my deeds.
+
+    CAPT. POUTS. I will pray for civil wars, to cut thy throat
+    Without danger, merchant. I will turn pirate,
+    But I'll be reveng'd on thee.
+
+    STRANGE. Do, captain, do:
+    A halter will take up our quarrel then.
+
+    CAPT. POUTS. 'Swounds! I'll be reveng'd upon ye all!
+    The strange adventure thou art now to make
+    In that small pinnace, is more perilous
+    Than any hazard thou could'st undergo.
+    Remember, a scorn'd soldier told thee so.     [_Exit_ CAPTAIN POUTS.
+
+    STRANGE. Go, walk the captain, good Sir Abraham.
+
+    ABRA. Good faith, sir, I had rather walk your horse.
+    I will not meddle with him. I would not keep
+    Him company in his drink for a world.
+
+    SIR J. WOR. But
+    What good do you, Sir Abraham, on my daughter?
+    I could be e'en content, my Lucida
+    Would skip your wit and look upon your wealth,
+    And this one day let Hymen crown ye all.
+
+    ABRA. O no, she laughs at me and scorns my suit:
+    For she is wilder and more hard withal,
+    Than beast or bird, or tree, or stony wall.
+
+    KATE. Ha! God-a-mercy, old Hieronimo.[25]
+
+    ABRA. Yet she might love me for my lovely eyes.
+
+    C. FRED. Ay, but perhaps your nose she doth despise.
+
+    ABRA. Yet might she love me for my dimpled chin.
+
+    PEN. Ay, but she sees your beard is very thin.
+
+    ABRA. Yet might she love me for my proper body.
+
+    STRANGE. Ay, but she thinks you are an errant noddy.
+
+    ABRA. Yet might she love me, 'cause I am an heir.
+
+    SIR J. WOR. Ay, but perhaps she doth not like your ware.
+
+    ABRA. Yet might she love me in despite of all.
+
+    LUC. Ay, but indeed I cannot love at all.
+
+    SIR J. WOR. Well, Luce, respect Sir Abraham, I charge you.
+
+    LUC. Father, my vow is pass'd: whilst the earl lives,
+    I ne'er will marry, nor will pine for him.
+    It is not him I love now, but my humour;
+    But since my sister he hath made his choice,
+    This wreath of willow, that begirds my brows,
+    Shall never cease to be my ornament,
+    'Till he be dead, or I be married to him.
+
+    PEN. Life! my lord; you had best marry 'em all three. They'll never
+    be content else.
+
+    C. FRED. I think so, too.
+
+    SIR J. WOR. These are impossibilities. Come, Sir Abraham.
+    A little time will wear out this rash vow.
+
+    ABRA. Shall I but hope?
+
+    LUC. O, by no means. I cannot endure these round breeches: I am
+    ready to swoon at them.
+
+    KATE. The hose are comely.
+
+    LUC. And then his left leg: I never see it, but I think on a
+    plum-tree.
+
+    ABRA. Indeed, there's reason there should be some difference in my
+    legs, for one cost me twenty pounds more than the other.
+
+    LUC. In troth, both are not worth half the money.
+
+    C. FRED. I hold my life, one of them was broke, and cost so much the
+    healing.
+
+    ABRA. Right hath your lordship said; 'twas broke indeed
+    At foot-ball in the university.
+
+    PEN. I know he is in love by his verse-vein.
+
+    STRANGE. He cannot hold out on't: you shall hear.
+
+    ABRA. Well, since I am disdain'd, off garters blue!
+    Which signify Sir Abram's love was true;
+    Off, cypress black! for thou befits not me;
+    Thou art not cypress of the cypress-tree,
+    Befitting lovers. Out, green shoe-strings, out!
+    Wither in pocket, since my Luce doth pout.
+    Gush, eyes; thump, hand; swell, heart; buttons, fly open!
+    Thanks, gentle doublet, else my heart had broken.
+    Now to thy father's country house at Babram
+    Hide post; there pine and die, poor, poor Sir Abram.
+
+    OMNES. O doleful dump!                         [_Music plays._
+
+    SIR J. WOR. Nay, you shall stay the wedding. Hark, the music!
+    Your bride is ready.
+
+    C. FRED. Put spirit in your fingers! louder still,
+    And the vast air with your enchantments fill.   [_Exeunt omnes._
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+  [10] An allusion (one out of hundreds in our old plays) to "The
+  Spanish Tragedy," act iii., where Hieronimo finds a letter, and taking
+  it up, exclaims--
+
+      "What's here? A letter! Tush, it is not so--
+      A letter written to Hieronimo."
+
+  --[v. 68.]
+
+  [11] [Advice.]
+
+  [12] [Old copy, _again_.]
+
+  [13] [Old copy, _doubt on_.]
+
+  [14] [Old copy, _as_.]
+
+  [15] Cotgrave tells us that "_piccadilles_ are the several divisions
+  or pieces fastened together about the brim of the collar of a
+  doublet." They are mentioned over and over again in old plays, as by
+  Field himself (probably) in "The Fatal Dowry," act iv. sc. 1: "There's
+  a shoulder-piece cut, and the base of a _pickadille_ in _puncto_." A
+  _pickadel_ is spoken of in "Northward Ho!" sig. D 3, as part of the
+  dress of a female. See Gifford's Ben Jonson, v. 55, for the origin and
+  application of the word.
+
+  [16] A place notorious for prostitutes, often mentioned.
+
+  [17] [Ordered them to be made, not being a poet or verse writer
+  himself. Old copy, _commend_.]
+
+  [18] [Usually, a kind of sausage; but here it seems to have an
+  indelicate sense, which may be readily conjectured.]
+
+  [19] From this passage it should seem that Italian tailors in Field's
+  time wore peculiarly wide and stiff ruffs, like a _wheel_ of lace
+  round their necks. Nothing on the point is to be found in R. Armin's
+  "Italian Taylor and his Boy," 1609. The Tailor in "Northward Ho!"
+  1607, sig. D 3, speaks of "a Cathern (Katherine) _wheel_ farthingale,"
+  but the farthing-gale was a hoop for the petticoats.
+
+  [20] [_Backyard_ usually, but here the phrase seems to mean rather a
+  house in the rear.]
+
+  [21] The old stage direction here is only _Exit Inno_.
+
+  [22] _Bombard_ strictly means a piece of artillery, but it was
+  metaphorically applied to large vessels containing liquor: in this
+  sense it may be frequently found in Shakespeare and other dramatists
+  of his day.
+
+  [23] _i.e._, The gunpowder treason of 5th Nov. 1605.
+
+  [24] [Meaning, a character. _Old_ is frequently used in this sort of
+  sense.]
+
+  [25] Sir Abraham quotes from "The Spanish Tragedy," and Kate detects
+  his plagiarism; [but the passage in that drama is itself a quotation.
+  See vol. v.p. 36.]
+
+
+
+
+ACT II., SCENE 1.
+
+
+_Enter_ NEVILL, _like a parson_.
+
+    NEV. Thus for my friend's sake have I taken orders,
+    And with my reason and some hire beside
+    Won the known priest, that was to celebrate
+    This marriage, to let me assume his place;
+    And here's the character of his face and beard.
+    By this means, when my friend confronts the maid
+    At the church-door (where I appointed him
+    To meet him like myself; for this strange shape
+    He altogether is unwitting of),
+    If she (as one vice in that sex alone
+    Were a great virtue) to inconstancy past
+    Join impudency, and slight him to his face,
+    Showing a resolution to this match,
+    By this attempt it will be frustrate,
+    And so we have more time, though but 'till night,
+    To work, to speak with her, or use violence;
+    For both my blood and means are at his service.
+    The reason, too, I do this past his knowledge
+    Is, that his joy may be the more complete;
+    When being resolv'd she's married and gone,
+    I can resolve him otherwise. Thus I know
+    Good deeds show double that are timely done,
+    And joy that comes past expectation.
+
+_Enter_ SCUDMORE _in tawny_.
+
+    Yonder he comes, dead in his melancholy.
+    I'll question him, and see if I can raise
+    His spirit from that it restless rests upon:
+    He cannot know me. Ho! good morrow, sir.
+
+    SCUD. Good morrow to no living thing but one,
+    And that is Nevill. O, the vows, the vows,
+    The protestations and becoming oaths,
+    Which she has utter'd to me!--so sweet, so many,--
+    As if she had been covetous not to leave
+    One word for other lovers, which I pitied:
+    She said indeed I did deserve 'em all.
+    Her lips made swearings sound of piety,
+    So sweet and prettily they came from her;
+    And yet this morn she's married to a lord.
+    Lord! lord! how often has she kiss'd this hand,
+    Lost herself in my eyes, play'd with my hair,
+    And made me (a sin I am not subject to)
+    Go away proud, improved by her favours;
+    And yet this morn she's married to a lord--
+    The bells were ringing as I came along.
+
+    NEV. Yes, sir; 'tis for the great marriage 'twixt----
+
+    SCUD. Pray, hold there; I know it too-too well.
+    The tokens and the letters I have still.
+    The dangers I have pass'd for her dear sake
+    By day and night, to satisfy her wishes!
+    That letter I so lately did receive,
+    And yet this morn she's married to a lord!
+    O memory, thou blessing to all men,
+    Thou art my curse and cause of misery,
+    That tell'st me what I have been in her eyes,
+    And what I am! As it is impossible
+    To find one good in the whole world of women--
+    But how I lose myself and the remembrance
+    Of my dear friend who said he would meet me here.
+    What is this priest, that walks before the church?
+    Why walk you here so early, sir?
+
+    NEV. I am appointed
+    Here to attend the coming of the brides,
+    Old Sir John Worldly's daughters.
+
+    SCUD. Are there two?
+
+    NEV. Yes, sir: the eldest marries Count Frederick.
+
+    SCUD. O!
+
+    NEV. The middlemost wears willow for his sake;
+    The youngest marries the rich merchant Strange.
+
+    SCUD. He is right worthy, and my well-known friend.
+    But, parson, if you marry Bellafront,
+    The horror of thy conscience shall exceed
+    A murderer's. Thou shalt not walk alone,
+    Nor eat nor sleep, but a sad lover's groans
+    And curses shall appear and fright thy soul.
+    I tell thee, priest, they're sights more terrible
+    Than ghosts or sprites, of which old wives tell tales.
+    Thou shalt run mad! thou shalt be damn'd indeed!
+
+    NEV. Now God forfend! the reason, sir, I pray?
+
+    SCUD. She is contracted, sir--nay, married
+    Unto another man, though it want form:
+    And such strange passages and mutual vows,
+    'Twould make your short hair start through your black cap
+    Should you but hear it!
+
+    NEV. Sir, I'll take no notice
+    Of things I do not know: the injur'd gentleman
+    May bring 'em after into the spiritual court,
+    And have a fair pull on't--a poor gentleman
+    (For so I take him by his being deceiv'd)
+    'Gainst a great count and an old wealthy knight.
+
+    SCUD. Thou Pancridge parson![26] O, for my friend Nevill!
+    Some wile or other might remove this priest,
+    And give us[27] breathing to cross their intent.     [_Aside._
+
+    NEV. Alas! my dear friend.                           [_Aside._
+
+    SCUD. Sir, do but you refuse to join them.
+
+    NEV. Upon what acquaintance, sir?
+    They are great persons, and I mean to rise:
+    I hope in time to have three livings, man;
+    And this were not the way, I take it, sir.
+
+    SCUD. Why, look thee; there is gold.
+
+    NEV. O, by no means.
+
+    SCUD. I seldom knew't refus'd yet by thy coat,
+    But where it would have been a cause of good.
+
+    NEV. But look ye; you shall see, I'm a divine
+    Of conscience quite opposite to a lawyer:
+    I'll give you counsel, sir, without a fee.
+    This way they are to come; if you dare do't,
+    Challenge her as your own at the church-door:
+    I will not hinder you.                         [_Music plays._
+
+    SCUD. O, hark! they come.
+    Nevill, my friend! well, I must something do.
+    O, why should music, which joys every part,
+    Strike such sharp killing discords to my heart!
+
+_Music. Enter_ SIR JOHN WORLDLY, _who meets the parson, and entertains
+him_; COUNT FREDERICK, BELLAFRONT, STRANGE, KATHERINE, LUCIDA _with
+willow_; PENDANT, SIR INNOCENT NINNY, LADY NINNY, MRS WAGTAIL, SIR
+ABRAHAM _melancholy_. W.P.[28] _walk gravely afore all softly on_.
+SCUDMORE _stands before, and a boy sings to the tuned music_.
+
+_The Song._
+
+    _They that for worldly wealth do wed,
+    That buy and sell the marriage-bed,
+    That come not warm'd with the true fire,
+    Resolv'd to keep this vow entire,
+        Too soon find discontent:
+        Too soon shall they repent.
+    But, Hymen, these are no such lovers,
+    Which thy burning torch discovers.
+    Though they live, then, many a year,
+    Let each day as new appear
+        As this first; and delights
+        Make of all bridal nights.
+    Iö, Hymen! give consent
+    Bless'd are the marriages that ne'er repent._
+
+    C. FRED. How now! who's this?
+
+    PEN. Young Scudmore.
+
+    OMNES. 'Tis young Scudmore!
+
+    SCUD. Canst thou this holy church enter a bride,
+    And not a corse, meeting these eyes of mine?
+
+    BEL. Yes, by my troth: what are your eyes to me,
+    But grey ones, as they are to everybody.
+    [_To the rest._] The gentleman I do a little know:
+    He's frantic, sure! Forward, a' God's name, there!
+
+    LUC. Sister, this is not well, and will be worse.
+
+    SCUD. O, hold thy thunder fast!
+
+    C. FRED. What is the matter?
+
+    PEN. I'll ask, my lord. What is the matter, sir?
+
+    SIR J. WOR. Some idle words, my lord, 't may be, have pass'd
+    'Twixt Scudmore and my daughter heretofore;
+    But he has dreamt 'em things of consequence.
+
+    PEN. Pish! nothing else? set forward.
+
+    NEV. By your leave.
+
+    SCUD. Can there be such a soul in such a shape?
+    My love is subject of such misery,
+    Such strange impossibilities and misfortune,
+    That men will laugh at me, when I relate
+    The story of it, and conceive I lie.
+    Why, madam that shall be--lady in _posse_--do titles,
+    Honours, and fortunes make you so forgetful?
+
+    BEL. You are insolent--nay, strangely saucy, sir,
+    To wrong me in this public fashion.
+
+    SIR. J. WOR. Sirrah, go to: there's law.
+
+    SCUD. There is, indeed,
+    And conscience too: old Worldly, thou hast one;
+    But for the other, wild Virginia,
+    Black Afric, or the shaggy Scythia,
+    Must send it over as a merchandise,
+    Ere thou show any here.
+
+    PEN. My honour'd lord,
+    Say but the word, I'll force him from the door.
+
+    C. FRED. I say the word: do it.
+
+    SCUD. You, my lord's fine fool!
+
+    ABRA. Ay, he, sir?
+
+    SCUD. No! nor you, my lord's fool's fool.
+
+    SIR INN. 'Ware, boy: come back.
+
+    L. NIN. Come back, I say, Sir Abraham.
+
+    STRANGE. 'Tis such a forward child.    [_Intrant Templum._[29]
+
+    SCUD. My passion and my cause of griefs so great,
+    That it hath drown'd all worthy parts in me;
+    As drink makes virtue useless in a man,
+    And with too much kills natural heat in him,
+    Or else I could not stand thus coldly tame,
+    And see them enter, but with my drawn sword
+    Should hale her by the hair unto the altar.
+    And sacrifice her heart to wronged love.             [_Aside._
+
+    KATH. On my life, it is so.[30]
+
+    STRANGE. Worthy friend,
+    I am exceeding sorry to see this,
+    But cannot help it.
+
+    SCUD. I'll follow, and unfold all in the church.
+    Alas! to what end, since her mind is chang'd?
+    Had she been loyal, all the earthly lords
+    Could not have borne her so! what heinous sin
+    Hath she committed, God should leave her then?
+    I never dreamt of lying with my mother,
+    Nor wish'd my father's death, nor hated brothers;
+    Nor did betray trust, nor lov'd money better
+    Than an accepted friend--no such base thought
+    Nor act unnatural possess'd this breast.
+    Why am I thus rewarded?--women! women!
+    He's mad, by heaven, that thinks you anything
+    But sensual monsters, and is never wise
+    Nor good, but when he hates you, as I now.
+    I'll not come near one--none of your base sex
+    Shall know me from this time; for all your virtues
+    Are like the buzzes[31] growing in the fields,
+    So weakly fasten'd t' ye by nature's hand,
+    That thus much wind blows all away at once.
+    Ye fillers of the world with bastardy,
+    Worse than diseases ye are subject to,
+    Know, I do hate you all: will write against you,
+    And fight against you: I will eat no meat
+    Dress'd by a woman, old or young, nor sleep
+    Upon a bed made by their stallion[32] hands.
+    Yet once more I will see this feminine devil,
+    When I will look her dead, speak her to hell!
+    I'll watch my time this day to do't, and then
+    I'll be in love with death, and readier still
+    His mortal stroke to take, than he to kill.
+                                       [_Cornets. Exit_ SCUDMORE.
+
+_Loud music. Enter, as from the church_, SIR JOHN WORLDLY, NEVILL, _like
+the parson_; COUNT FREDERICK, BELLAFRONT, STRANGE, KATHERINE; SIR
+INNOCENT NINNY, LADY NINNY, SIR ABRAHAM; LUCIDA, WAGTAIL, PENDANT.
+
+    C. FRED. Sweet is the love purchas'd with difficulty.
+
+    BEL. Then, this cross accident doth relish ours.
+
+    STRANGE. I rather think ours happier, my fair Kate, Where all is
+    smooth, and no rub checks our course.
+
+    _Enter_ CAPTAIN POUTS.
+
+    CAPT. POUTS. Are ye married?
+
+    C. FRED. Yes.
+
+CAPT. POUTS. The devil dance at your wedding! But for you, I have
+something else to say. Let me see: here are reasonable good store of
+people. Know, all my beloved brethren (I speak it in the face of the
+congregation), this woman I have lain with oftener----
+
+OMNES. How!
+
+L. NIN. Before God, you are a wicked fellow to speak on't in this
+manner, if you have.
+
+    STRANGE. Lain with her?
+
+    CAPT. POUTS. Yes. Good morrow. God give ye joy.
+                                            [_Exit_ CAPTAIN POUTS.
+
+    SIR J. WOR. I am speechless with my anger. Follow him!
+    If it be true, let her be prov'd a whore:
+    If false, he shall abide the slander dearly.
+
+    ABRA. Follow that list: I will not meddle with him.
+
+    SIR J. WOR. Why speak'st not thou to reconcile those looks,
+    That fight stern battles in thy husband's face?
+
+    KATH. Thou art not so unworthy to believe him.
+    If I did think thou didst, I would not open
+    My lips to satisfy so base a thought,
+    Sprung from the slander of so base a slave.
+
+    STRANGE. It cannot be! I'll tell you by to-morrow.
+    I am no fool, Kate. I will find some time
+    To talk with this same captain. Pouts d'ye call him?
+    I'll be wi' ye to-night.
+
+    KATH. Sir, you shall not.
+    What stain my honour hath received by this
+    Base villain, all the world takes notice of.
+    Mark what I vow, and if I keep it not,
+    May I be so given o'er, to let this rogue
+    Perform his slander. Thou that wert ordained,
+    And in thy cradle mark'd to call me wife,
+    And in that title made as my defence,
+    Yet sufferedst him to go away with life,
+    Wounding my honour dead before thy face;
+    Redeem it on his head, and his own way,
+    Ev'n by the sword, his long profession,
+    And bring it on thy neck out of the field,
+    And set it clear amongst the tongues of men,
+    That all eyes may discern it slandered,
+    Or thou shalt ne'er enjoy me as a wife.
+    By this bright sun, thou shalt not! Nay, I'll think
+    As abjectly of thee as any mongrel
+    Bred in the city: such a citizen
+    As the plays flout still, and is made the subject
+    Of all the stages. Be this true or no,
+    'Tis thy best course to fight.
+
+    SIR J. WOR. Why, Kate, I say----
+
+    KATH. Pray, pardon me: none feels the smart but I.
+    'Tis thy best course to fight: if thou be'st still,
+    And like an honest tradesmen eat'st this wrong,
+    O, may thy spirit and thy state so fall,
+    Thy first-born child may come to the hospital.
+
+    STRANGE. Heaven, I desire thee, hear her last request,
+    And grant it too, if I do slack the first!
+    By thy assured innocency I swear,
+    Thou hast lost me half the honour I shall win
+    In speaking my intent. Come, let's to dinner.
+
+    KATH. I must not eat nor sleep, [but] weep,
+    Till it be done.
+
+    BEL. Sister, this resolution is not good:
+    Ill thrives that marriage that begins in blood.
+
+    KATH. Sister, inform yourself I have no ladyship
+    To gild my infamy, or keep tongues in awe.
+    If God love innocency, I am sure
+    He shall not lose in this action.
+
+    STRANGE. Nor is't the other's life
+    Can give her to the world my perfect wife,
+    But what I do conceive. It is not blood, then,
+    Which she requires, but her good name again;
+    And I will purchase it; for, by heaven, thou art
+    The excellent'st new-fashion'd maid in this,
+    That ever ear shall hear a tale told of.
+
+    OMNES. But hear ye.
+
+    STRANGE. Good [people], save your labours, for by heaven
+    I'll do it: if I do't not, I shall be pointed at,
+    Proclaim'd the grand rich cuckold of the town;
+    Nay, wittol, even by them are known for both.
+
+    SIR J. WOR. Take your revenge by law.
+
+    STRANGE. It will be thought
+    Your greatness and our money carries it:
+    For some say some men on the back of law
+    May ride and rule it like a patient ass,
+    And with a golden bridle in the mouth
+    Direct it unto anything they please.
+    Others report it is a spider's web,
+    Made to entangle the poor helpless flies,
+    Whilst the great spiders that did make it first,
+    And rule it, sit i' th' midst secure, and laugh.
+    My law in this shall only be my sword;
+    But, peradventure, not this month or two.
+
+    KATH. This month or two?
+
+    C. FRED. I'll be your second, then.
+
+    STRANGE. You proffer too much honour, my good lord.
+
+    PEN. And I will be your third.
+
+    ABRA. I'll not be fourth or fifth,
+    For the old proverb's good, which long hath been,
+    Says safest 'tis sleeping in a whole skin.
+
+    LUC. God-a-mercy, Nab, I'll ha' thee, and be but for thy manhood.
+
+    SIR INN. Wife, my Lady Ninny, do you hear your son? He speaks
+    seldom, but when he speaks----
+
+    LUC. He speaks proverbs, i' faith.
+
+    L. NIN. O, 'tis a pestilence knight, Mistress Lucida.
+
+    LUC. Ay, and a pocky.
+
+    KATH. This month or two! D'ye love me? not before?
+    It may be I will live so long Fame's whore!
+                                                [_Exit_ KATHERINE.
+
+    SIR J. WOR. What lowering star rul'd my nativity!
+    You'll come to dinner?
+
+    STRANGE. Yes.
+
+    C. FRED. Good morrow, brother.
+    Come, let's be merry in despite of all,
+    And make this day (as't should be) festival.
+
+    SIR J. WOR. This sour thwart beginning may portend
+    Good, and be crown'd with a delicious end.
+                                        [_Exeunt all but_ STRANGE.
+
+    STRANGE. So; I'll not see you, till my task be done:
+    So much false time I set to my intent,
+    Which instantly I mean to execute,
+    To cut off all means of prevention,
+    Which if they knew my day, they would essay.
+    Now for the merchant's honour. Hit all right:
+    Kate, your young Strange will lie with you to-night.    [_Exit._
+
+_Enter WAGTAIL; the_ PAGE, _stealing after her, conceals himself_.
+
+WAG. What a stir is here made about lying with a gentlewoman! I have
+been lain with a hundred, and a hundred times, and nothing has come
+on't! but--hawk, hum! hawk, hum! O, O! Thus have I done for this month
+or two--hawk, hum! [_Coughs and spits._]
+
+PAGE. Ah! God's will, are you at it? You have acted your name too much,
+sweet Mistress Wagtail. This was wittily, though somewhat knavishly
+followed on me.
+
+WAG. Umph! O' my conscience, I am peppered. Well, thou tumblest not for
+nothing, for he dances as well that got thee, and plays as well on the
+viol, and yet he must not father thee. I have better men. Let me
+remember them, and here, in my melancholy, choose out one rich enough
+to reward this my stale virginity, or fit enough to marry my little
+honesty. Hawk, hawk! [_Coughs and spits._]
+
+PAGE. She has a shrewd reach, I see that. What a casting she keeps.
+Marry, my comfort is, we shall hear by and by who has given her the
+casting-bottle.
+
+WAG. Hawk, hawk, hawk! bitter, bitter! Pray God, I hurt not the babe.
+Well, let me see, I'll begin with knights: _imprimis_, Sir John
+Do't-well and Sir William Burn-it.
+
+PAGE. A hot knight, by my faith; Do't-well and Burn-it too.
+
+WAG. For old Sir Innocent Ninny, my master, if I speak my conscience,
+look ye, I cannot directly accuse him. Much has he been about, but done
+nothing. Marry, for Sir Abraham, I will not altogether 'quit him. Let me
+see, there's four knights: now for gentlemen----
+
+PAGE. And so she'll come down to the footmen.
+
+WAG. Master Love-all, Master Liveby't, and Master Pendant. Hawk, hi'up,
+hi'up!
+
+PAGE. By this light, I have heard enough. Shall I hold your belly too,
+fair maid of the fashion? [_Comes forward._
+
+WAG. What say ye, Jack Sauce?
+
+PAGE. O fie, ill-mutton! you are too angry. Why, look ye; I am my lord's
+page, and you are my lady's gentlewoman: we should agree better; and I
+pray, whither are you riding with this burthen in your dosser.[33]
+
+WAG. Why, sir, out of town. I hope 'tis not the first time you have seen
+a child carried out of town in a dosser for fear of the plague.
+
+PAGE. You have answered me, I promise you: but who put it in, I pray?
+
+WAG. Not you, sir, I know, by your asking.
+
+PAGE. I, alas! I know that by my talent; for I remember thus much
+philosophy of my school-masters, _ex nihilo nihil fit_. But come,
+setting this duello of wit aside, I have overheard your confession and
+your casting about for a father, and in troth, in mere charity, came in
+to relieve you. In the scroll of beasts, horses and asses, that have fed
+upon this common of yours, you named one Pendant: faith, wench, let him
+be the father. He is a very handsome gentleman, I can tell you, in my
+lord's favour. I'll be both secret and your friend to my lord. Let it be
+him; he shall either reward thee bountifully, or marry thee.
+
+WAG. Sir, you speak like an understanding young gentleman, and I
+acknowledge myself much bound to you for your counsel.
+
+PEN. (_Within_). Will, Will!
+
+PAGE. My lord hath sent him to call me. Now I hold a wager on't, if thou
+be'st not a fool, as most waiting-women are, thou'lt use him in his
+kind.
+
+_Enter_ PENDANT.
+
+PEN. Why, Will, I say! Go; my lord calls extremely.
+
+PAGE. Did not I say so? Come, this is but a trick to send me off, sir.
+
+                                                     [_Exit_ PAGE.
+
+    PEN. A notable little rascal.
+    Pretty Mistress Wagtail, why d'ye walk so melancholy?
+    I sent him hence o' purpose. Come, shall's do?
+
+    WAG. Do! what would you do? You have done too much already.
+
+    PEN. What's the matter?
+
+    WAG. I am with child by you.
+
+    PEN. By me? Why, by me? A good jest, i' faith.
+
+    WAG. You'll find it, sir, in earnest.
+
+    PEN. Why, do you think I am such an ass to believe nobody has
+    meddled with you but I?
+
+    WAG. Do you wrong me so much to think otherwise?
+    Thus 'tis for a poor damsel like myself
+    To yield her honour and her youth to any,
+    Who straight conceives she does so unto many:
+    And as I have a soul to save, 'tis true.
+
+PEN. Pray, do not swear. I do not urge you to't. 'Swounds, now I am
+undone! You walk somewhat round. Sweetheart, has nobody been tampering
+with you else? Think on't, for by this light, I am not worth the estate
+of an apple-wife. I do live upon commending my lord, the Lord of Hosts
+knows it, and all the world besides. For me to marry thee will undo thee
+more,
+
+    And that thou may'st keep me, keep thee in fashion,
+    Sell thee to English, French, to Scot, and all,
+    Till I have brought thee to an hospital;
+    And there I leave you. Ha' you not heard nor read
+    Of some base slave that, wagging his fair head,
+    Does whistling at one end of his shop-walk,
+    Whilst some gay man doth vomit bawdy talk
+    In his wife's ears at the other? Such a rogue
+
+Or worse shall I be; for look ye, Mistress Wagtail, I do live like a
+chameleon upon the air, and not like a mole upon the earth. Land I have
+none. I pray God send me a grave, when I am dead.
+
+WAG. It's all one. I'll have you for your qualities.
+
+PEN. For my good ones, they are altogether unknown, because they have
+not yet been seen, nor ever will be, for they have no being. In plain
+terms, as God help me, I have none.
+
+WAG. How came you by your good clothes?
+
+PEN. By undoing tailors; and then, my lord (like a snake) casts a suit
+every quarter, which I slip into: therefore thou art worse than mad if
+thou wilt cast away thyself upon me.
+
+WAG. Why, what 'mends will you make me? can you give me some sum of
+money to marry me to some tradesman, as the play says?
+
+PEN. No, by my troth. But tell me this, has not Sir Abraham been
+familiar with you?
+
+WAG. Faith, not enough to make up a child.
+
+PEN. Couldst be content to marry him?
+
+WAG. Ay, by my troth, and thank ye, too.
+
+PEN. Has he but kissed thee?
+
+WAG. Yes; and something more beside that.
+
+PEN. Nay, and there ha' been any jot of the thing, beside that, I'll
+warrant thee, lay the child to him--
+
+    Stand stifly to it, leave the rest to me;
+    By that fool thou shalt save thy honesty.           [_Exeunt._
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+  [26] Or "Pancras parson," a term of contempt for the convenient
+  clergymen of that day.
+
+  [27] The old copy reads, _And give up breathing to cross their
+  intent_.
+
+  [28] What is the meaning of these initials must be left to the
+  conjecture of the reader: perhaps _waits playing_, in reference to the
+  attendant musicians.
+
+  [29] _i.e._, All but Kate, Strange, and Scudmore enter the church.
+  Strange and Kate follow immediately, and leave Scudmore _solus_.
+
+  [30] [Referring to what Strange has said a little before, not to
+  Scudmore's speech, which is spoken aside.]
+
+  [31] [Gossamers.]
+
+  [32] [Old copies and former edits., _still given_, which appears to be
+  meaningless. The word substituted is not satisfactory, but it is the
+  most likely one which has occurred to me, and the term is employed by
+  our old playwrights rather more widely than at present.]
+
+  [33] _Dosser_ is used for a basket generally, but as it means
+  strictly a pannier for the back (from the Fr. _dossier_), it is here
+  used very inappropriately with reference to the burden Mrs Wagtail
+  carries before her. We have it in the modern sense of pannier in "The
+  Merry Devil of Edmonton"--
+
+      "The milkmaids' cuts shall turn the wenches off,
+      And lay their _dossers_ tumbling in the dust."
+
+  --[x. 224.]
+
+
+
+
+ACT III., SCENE I.
+
+
+_Enter_ STRANGE, _knocking at a door_.
+
+STRANGE. Lies Captain Pouts here, pray?
+
+_Enter a_ SERVINGMAN.
+
+SER. Sir, he does.
+
+STRANGE. I prythee, tell him here's a gentleman would speak with him.
+
+SER. What may I call your name, sir?
+
+STRANGE. No matter for my name.
+
+SER. Troth, sir, the Captain is somewhat doubtful of strangers; and
+being, as most captains are, a little in debt, I know he will not speak
+with you, unless you send your name.
+
+    STRANGE. Tell him my name is Strange; that I am come
+    About that business he spake of to-day.       [_Exit_ SERVANT.
+    To have sent a formal challenge by a gentleman,
+    He being to choose his time, might peradventure
+    Have made him shift himself the sooner over.
+
+_Enter_ POUTS _above_.
+
+CAPT. POUTS. Sir, I know your business. You are come to serve a warrant
+or a citation: I will not speak with you; and get you gone quickly too,
+or I may happen send a bullet through your mazzard. [_Exit._
+
+    STRANGE. Strange cross! past expectation! well, I'll try;
+    My other course may speed more happily.               [_Exit._
+
+
+SCENE II.
+
+_Music. Enter with table-napkins_, COUNT FREDERICK, SIR JOHN WORLDLY,
+NEVILL, PENDANT, SIR INNOCENT NINNY, LADY NINNY, SIR ABRAHAM. _Servants
+with wine, plate, tobacco, and pipes._
+
+    SIR J. WOR. Sir, had you borne us company to church,
+    You had been the better welcome.
+
+    C. FRED. Faith, you had; I must needs say so too.
+
+    PEN. And I must needs say as my lord says.
+
+    NEV. Sir John, I thank you and my honour'd lord:
+    But I am sorry for this other news
+    Concerning Mistress Kate and my good friend.
+
+    SIR J. WOR. Tis certain true: he keeps his word well too!
+    He said he would come to dinner.
+
+L. NIN. All we cannot get Mistress Katherine out of her chamber.
+
+SIR J. WOR. O good old woman, she is top-shackled.
+
+L. NIN. 'Tis pestilence sack and cruel claret: knight, stand to me,
+knight, I say: up, a cold stomach! give me my aqua-vitæ bottle.
+
+SIR INN. O Guiniver! as I am a justice of peace and quorum, 'twere a
+good deed to commit thee. Fie, fie, fie!
+
+ABRA. Why, alas! I cannot help this, and I should be hanged: she'll be
+as drunk as a porter. I'll tell you, my lord, I have seen her so be-piss
+the rushes, as she has danced at a wedding. Her belly and that aqua-vitæ
+bottle have almost undone my father. Well, I think in conscience she is
+not my natural-begotten mother.
+
+OMNES. Ha, ha, ha!
+
+NEV. Well said, my wise Sir Abraham.[34]
+
+    C. FRED. O, this music
+    And good wine is the soul of all the world.
+
+    SIR J. WOR. Come, will your lordship make one at primero,
+    Until your bride come forth?
+
+NEV. You can play well, my lord.
+
+C. FRED. Who, I?
+
+PEN. Who? my lord? the only player at primero i' the court.
+
+ABRA. I'd rather play at bowls.
+
+PEN. My lord's for you for that, too: the only bowler in London that is
+not a churchwarden.
+
+NEV. Can he fence well, too, Master Pendant?
+
+PEN. Who? my lord? the only fencer in Christendom. He'll hit you.
+
+ABRA. He shall not hit me, I assure you, now.
+
+NEV. Is he good at the exercise of drinking, sir?
+
+PEN. Who? my lord? the only drunkard i' th' world--drinker, I would say.
+
+ABRA. God-a-mercy for that.
+
+NEV. I would he heard him.
+
+ABRA. I know a better whoremaster than he.
+
+NEV. O fie! no: none so good as my lord.
+
+PEN. Hardly, by'r Lady, hardly.
+
+C. FRED. How now! who's this?
+
+_Enter_ SCUDMORE, _like a servingman, with a letter_.
+
+SIR J. WOR. What would you?
+
+SCUD. I would speak with the Lady Bellafront from the young Lady Lucy.
+
+SIR J. WOR. You had best send in your letter; she is withdrawn.
+
+SCUD. My lady gave me charge of the delivery, And I must do't myself, or
+carry it back.
+
+SIR J. WOR. A trusty servant. That way leads you to her.
+
+    C. FRED. This trust in servants is a jewel. Come,
+    Let us to bowls i' th' garden.                      [_Exeunt._
+
+    SCUD. Blessed fate!
+
+      [SCUDMORE _passeth one door, and entereth the other, where_
+      BELLAFRONT _sits asleep in a chair, under a taffata canopy_.
+
+    SCUD. O thou, whose words and actions seem'd to me
+    As innocent as this smooth sleep which hath
+    Lock'd up thy powers! Would thou hadst slept, when first
+    Thou sent'st and profferedst me beauty and love!
+    I had been ignorant, then, of such a loss.
+    Happy's that wretch, in my opinion,
+    That never own'd scarce jewels or bright sums:
+    He can lose nothing but his constant wants;
+    But speakless is his plague, that once had store,
+    And from superfluous state falls to be poor.
+    Such is my hell-bred hap! could nature make
+    So fair a superficies to enclose
+    So false a heart? This is like gilded tombs,
+    Compacted of jet pillars, marble stones,
+    Which hide from 's stinking flesh and rotten bones.
+    Pallas so sat (methinks) in Hector's tent.
+    But time, so precious and so dangerous,
+    Why do I lose thee? Madam, my lady, madam.
+
+    BEL. Believe me, my dear friend, I was enforc'd.
+    Ha! I had a dream as strange as thou art, fellow.
+    How cam'st thou hither? what's thy business?
+
+    SCUD. That letter, madam, tells you.
+
+    BEL. Letter? ha!
+    What, dost thou mock me? here is nothing writ.
+
+    SCUD. Can you read anything, then, in this face?
+
+    BEL. O basilisk! remove thee from my sight,
+    Or thy heart's blood shall pay thy rash attempt!
+    Ho! who attends us there?
+
+    SCUD. Stir not a foot,
+    And stop your clamorous acclamations,
+    Or, by the bitterness of my fresh wrongs,
+    I'll send your ladyship to the devil quick!
+    I know the hazard I do undergo,
+    And whatsoe'er after becomes of me,
+    I'll make you sure first. I am come to speak--
+    And speak I will freely--and to bring back
+    Your letters and such things you sent; and then
+    I'll ne'er see those deceiving eyes again.
+
+    BEL. O, I am sick of my corruption!
+    For God's sake, do not speak a word more to me.
+
+    SCUD. Not speak? yes, woman, I will roar aloud:
+    Call thee the falsest fair that ever breath'd;
+    Tell thee, that in this marriage thou hast drown'd
+    All virtue left to credit thy weak sex,
+    Which being (as 'twere) committed to thy trust,
+    Thou traitorously hast betray'd it thus!
+    Did I entice, or ever send thee gifts,
+    To allure thee to reflect a beam on me?
+    Nay, didst not thou thyself send and invent,
+    Past human wit, our means of intercourse?
+    Why dost thou then prove base unto thyself,
+    Perjur'd and impious? know, the good thou hast lost
+    In my opinion, doth outvalue far
+    The airy honours thou art married to.
+
+    BEL. O, peace! for you speak sharpness to my soul,
+    More torturous than hell's plagues to the damn'd.
+    For love's sake, hear me speak!
+
+    SCUD. For love's sake? no:
+    Love is my surfeit, and is turn'd in me
+    To a disease.
+
+    BEL. Tyrant! my knees shall beg,
+    Till they get liberty for my tongue to speak,
+    Drown'd, almost, in the rivers of mine eyes.
+
+    SCUD. What canst thou say? art thou not married?
+
+    BEL. Alas! I was enforc'd; first by the threats
+    Of a severe father, that in his hand
+    Did gripe my fortunes: next to that, the fame
+    Of your neglect and liberal-talking tongue,
+    Which bred my honour an eternal wrong.
+
+    SCUD. Pish! these are painted causes. Till this morn
+    He liv'd not in this land, that durst accuse
+    My integrity of such an ignorance.
+    But take your letters here, your paper vows,
+    Your picture and your bracelets; and if ever
+    I build again upon a woman's faith,
+    May sense forsake me! I will sooner trust
+    Dice or a reconciled enemy: O God!
+    What an internal joy my heart has felt,
+    Sitting at one of these same idle plays,
+    When I have seen a maid's inconstancy
+    Presented to the life! how my glad eyes
+    Have stole about me, fearing lest my looks
+    Should tell the company convented there
+    The mistress that I had free of such faults.
+
+    BEL. O, still retain her so! dear Scudmore, hear me.
+
+    SCUD. Retain thee so? it is impossible!
+    Art thou not married? 'tis impossible!
+    O no! I do despise thee, and will fly
+    As far on earth as to the Antipodes,
+    And by some learn'd magician, whose deep art
+    Can know thy residence on this hemisphere,
+    There I'll be plac'd, my feet just against thine,
+    To express the opposite nature, which our hearts
+    Must henceforth hold.
+
+    BEL. O, rather shoot me, friend,
+    Than let me hear thee speak such bitterness!
+    O, pity me! redeem me from the hell,
+    That in this marriage I am like to feel!
+    I'll rather fly to barren wildernesses,
+    And suffer all wants with thee, Scudmore, than
+    Live with all plenty in this husband's arms.
+    Thou shalt perceive I am not such a woman,
+    That is transported with vain dignities.
+    O, thy dear words have knock'd at my heart's gates,
+    And enter'd. They have pluck'd the devil's vizard
+    (That did deform this face, and blind my soul)
+    Off, and thy Bellafront presents herself,
+    Lav'd in a bath of contrite virginal tears:
+    Cloth'd in the original beauty that was thine!
+    Now, for thy love to God, count this not done:
+    Let time go back, and be as when before it,
+    Or from thy memory rase it for ever!
+
+    SCUD. Ha, ha! heart! was there ever such strange creatures fram'd?
+    Why dost thou speak such foolish, senseless things?
+    Can thy forsaking him redeem thy fault?
+    No, I will never mend an ill with worse.
+    Why, thy example will make women false,
+    When they shall hear it, that before were true;
+    For after ill examples we do fly,
+    But must be vow'd to deeds of piety.
+    O woman, woman, woman, woman, woman!
+    The cause of future and original sin,
+    How happy (had you not) should we have been!
+    False, where you kiss, but murdering in your ire;
+    Love all can woo, know all men you desire:
+    Ungrateful, yet most impudent to crave,
+    Torturous as hell, insatiate as the grave:
+    Lustful as monkeys, grinning in your ease,
+    Whom if we make not idols, we ne'er please:
+    More vainly proud than fools, as ignorant;
+    Baser than parasites: witches that enchant
+    And make us senseless, to think death or life
+    Is yours to give, when only our belief
+    Doth make you able to deceive us so:
+    Begot by drunkards to breed sin and woe;
+    As many foul diseases hide your veins,
+    As there are mischiefs coin'd in your quick brains:
+    Not quick in wit, fit to perform least good,
+    But to subvert whole states, shed seas of blood:
+    Twice as deceitful as are crocodiles,
+    For you betray both ways, with tears and smiles.
+    Yet questionless there are as good, as bad.
+    Hence! let me go.
+
+    BEL. Hear me, and thou shalt go.
+    I do confess I do deserve all this,
+    Have wounded all the faith my sex doth owe,
+    But will recover it, or pay my life.
+    Strive not to go, for you shall hear me first.
+    I charge thee, Scudmore, thou hard-hearted man,
+    Upon my knees--                                    [_Kneels._]
+    Thou most implacable man, since penitence
+    And satisfaction too gets not thy pardon,
+    I charge thee use some means to set me free,  [_Rises again._]
+    Before the revels of this night have end.
+    Prevent my entering to this marriage-bed;
+    Or by the memory of Lucretia's knife,
+    Ere morn I'll die a virgin, though a wife.            [_Exit._
+
+    SCUD. Pish! do: the world will have one mischief less.
+                                                          [_Exit._
+
+
+SCENE III.
+
+_Enter_ SIR ABRAHAM NINNY, _throwing down his bowl_.
+
+    ABRA. Bowl they that list, for I will bowl no more.
+    Cupid, that little bowler, in my breast
+    Rubs at my heart, and will not let me rest.
+                                [_Within: Rub, rub, fly, fly._[35]
+    Ay, ay, you may cry _Rub, fly_, to your bowls,
+    For you are free: love troubles not your jowls,
+    But from my head to heel, from heel to heart:
+    Behind, before, and roundabout I smart.
+    Then in this arbour, sitting all alone,
+    In doleful ditty let me howl my moan.
+    O boy![36] leave pricking, for I vail my bonnet:[37]
+    Give me but breath, while I do write a sonnet.
+
+_Enter_ PENDANT.
+
+PEN. I have lost my money, and Sir Abraham too. Yonder he sits at his
+muse, by heaven, drowned in the ocean of his love. Lord! how he labours,
+like a hard-bound poet whose brains had a frost in 'em. Now it comes.
+
+    ABRA. _I die, I sigh_.
+
+    PEN. What, after you are dead? very good.
+
+    ABRA. _I die, I sigh, thou precious stony jewel_.
+
+    PEN. Good; because she is hard-hearted.
+
+    ABRA. _I die_.                                       [_Write._
+
+    PEN. He has died three times, and come again.
+
+    ABRA. ----_I sigh, thou precious stony jewel.
+    Wearing of silk, why art thou still so cruel_.       [_Write._
+
+    PEN. O Newington conceit!
+    And quieting eke.[38]
+
+    ABRA. _Thy servant, Abraham, sends this foolish ditty_.
+
+    PEN. You say true, in troth, sir.
+
+    ABRA. _Thy servant, Abraham, sends this foolish dit-
+    Ty unto thee, pity both him and it_.                 [_Write._
+
+    PEN. _Ty unto thee:_ well, if she do not pity both, 'tis pity she
+    should live.
+
+    ABRA. _But if thou still wilt poor Sir Abraham frump,
+    Come, grim death, come! here give thy mortal thump_. [_Write._
+    So; now I'll read it together.
+    _I die, I sigh, thou precious stony jewel,
+    O, wherefore wear'st thou silk, yet art so cruel?
+    To thee thy Ninny sends this foolish dit-
+    Ty, and                pity both him and it._[39]
+    _If thou deny, and still Sir Abraham frump,
+    Come, grim death, come! here give thy mortal thump._
+    Let me see, who shall I get now to set it to a dumpish note.
+
+PEN. In good faith, I do not know; but nobody that is wise, I am sure of
+that. It will be an excellent matter sung to the knacking of the tongs.
+But to my business. God save thee, worthy and right worshipful Sir
+Abraham! what, musing and writing? O, this love will undo us all, and
+that made me prevent love, and undo myself. But what news of Mistress
+Lucida? ha! will she not come off, nor cannot you come on, little
+Abraham?
+
+ABRA. Faith, I have courted her, and courted her; and she does, as
+everybody else does, laughs at all I can do or say.
+
+PEN. Laughs; why that's a sign she is pleased. Do you not know, when a
+woman laughs, she's pleased?
+
+ABRA. Ay, but she laughs most shamefully and most scornfully.
+
+PEN. Scornfully! hang her, she's but a bauble.
+
+ABRA. She's the fitter for my turn, sir; for they will not stick to say,
+I am a fool, for all I am a knight.[40]
+
+PEN. Love has made you witty, little Nab; but what a mad villain art
+thou, a striker, a fiftieth part of Hercules, to get one wench with
+child, and go a-wooing to another.
+
+ABRA. With child! a good jest, i' faith: whom have I got with child?
+
+PEN. Why, Mistress Wagtail is with child, and will be deposed 'tis
+yours. She is my kinswoman, and I would be loth our house should suffer
+any disgrace in her; if there be law in England, which there should be,
+if we may judge by their consciences, or if I have any friends, the
+wench shall take no wrong. I cannot tell: I think my lord will stick to
+me.
+
+ABRA. D'ye hear? talk not to me of friends, law, or conscience: if your
+kinswoman say she is with child by me, your kinswoman is an errant
+whore. Od's will, have you nobody to put your gulls upon but knights?
+That Wagtail is a whore, and I'll stand to it.
+
+PEN. Nay, you have stood to it already. But to call my cousin whore! you
+have not a mind to have your throat cut, ha' you?
+
+ABRA. Troth, no great mind, sir.
+
+    PEN. Recant your words, or die.            [_Draws his sword._
+
+    ABRA. Recant? O, base! out, sword, mine honour keep:
+    Love, thou hast made a lion of a sheep.
+
+PEN. But will you fight in this quarrel?
+
+ABRA. I am resolved.
+
+PEN. Heart! I have pulled an old house over my head: here's like to be a
+tall fray. I perceive a fool's valianter than a knave at all times.
+Would I were well rid of him: I had as lief meet Hector, God knows, if
+he dare fight at all: they are all one to me; or, to speak more
+modernly, with one of the roaring boys. [_Aside._
+
+ABRA. Have you done your prayers?
+
+PEN. Pray give me leave, sir: put up, an't please you. Are you sure my
+cousin Wagtail is a whore?
+
+ABRA. With sword in hand I do it not recant.
+
+PEN. Well, it shall never be said Jack Pendant would venture his blood
+in a whore's quarrel. But, whore or no whore, she is most desperately in
+love with you: praises your head, your face, your nose, your eyes, your
+mouth: the fire of her commendations makes the pot of your good parts
+run over; and to conclude, if the whore have you not, I think the pond
+at Islington will be her bathing-tub, and give an end to mortal misery.
+But if she belie you----pray, put up, sir; she is an errant whore, and
+so let her go.
+
+ABRA. Does she so love me, say you?
+
+PEN. Yes, yes: out of all question, the whore does love you abominable.
+
+    ABRA. No more of these foul terms: if she do love me,
+    That goes by fate, I know it by myself.
+    I'll not deny but I have dallied with her.
+
+    PEN. Ay, but hang her, whore; dallying will get no children.
+
+    ABRA. Another _whore_, and draw! Where is the girl?
+
+    PEN. Condoling her misfortune in the gallery;
+    Upon the rushes sitting all alone,
+    And for Sir Abraham's love venting her moan.
+
+    ABRA. I know not what to say: fate's above all.
+    Come, let's go overbear her. Be this true,
+    Welcome, my Wagtail: scornful Luce, adieu.            [_Exit._
+
+    PEN. One way it takes yet. 'Tis a fool's condition,
+    Whom none can love, out of his penury
+    To catch most greedily at any wench
+    That gives way to his love, or feigns her own
+    First unto him: and so Sir Abraham now,
+    I hope, will buy the pool where I will fish.
+    Thus a quick knave makes a fat fool his dish.         [_Exit._
+
+_Enter_ CAPTAIN POUTS.
+
+CAPT. POUTS. I have played the melancholy ass, and partly the knave, in
+this last business, but as the parson said that got the wench with
+child, "'Tis done now, sir; it cannot be undone, and my purse or I must
+smart for it."
+
+_Enter_ SERVANT.
+
+SER. Your trunks are shipped, and the tide falls out about twelve
+to-night.
+
+CAPT. POUTS. I'll away. This law is like the basilisk, to see it first
+is the death on't.[41] This night and, noble London, farewell; I will
+never see thee more, till I be knighted for my virtues. Let me see, when
+shall I return? and yet I do not think, but there are a great many
+dubbed for their virtues; otherwise, how could there be so many poor
+knights?[42]
+
+_Enter_ STRANGE, _like a soldier, amazedly_.
+
+What art thou? what's thy news?
+
+STRANGE. 'Zoons; a man is fain to break open doors, ere he can get in
+to you. I would speak with a general sooner.
+
+CAPT. POUTS. Sir, you may: he owes less, peradventure; or if more, he is
+more able to pay't. What art?
+
+STRANGE. A soldier; one that lives upon this buff jerkin: 'twas made of
+Fortunatus's pouch; and these are the points I stand upon. I am a
+soldier.
+
+CAPT. POUTS. A counterfeit rogue you are.
+
+STRANGE. As true a rogue as thyself. Thou wrong'st me. Send your man
+away: go to, I have strange and welcome business to impart. The merchant
+is dead for shame: let's walk into the fields: send away your man.
+
+CAPT. POUTS. How?
+
+    STRANGE. Here is a letter from the lusty Kate,
+    That tells you all: I must not give it you,
+    But upon some conditions. Let us walk,
+    And send away your man.
+
+    CAPT. POUTS. Go, sirrah, and bespeak supper at the Bear, and provide
+    oars: I'll see Gravesend to-night.            [_Exit_ SERVANT.
+
+    STRANGE. The gentlewoman will run mad after you then. I'll tell you
+    more: let's walk.                                   [_Exeunt._
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+  [34] This remark, and a question below, in the old copy are given to
+  Luce; but Lucida is not upon the stage, and could not be there, as
+  Scudmore afterwards enters, pretending to be the bearer of a letter
+  from her. The name of _Nevill_ has been substituted for Luce, and at
+  least there is no impropriety in assigning what is said to him. Two
+  other speeches, attributed to her, obviously belong to Sir Abraham.
+
+  [35] The exclamations of the bowlers, whom Sir Abraham has just
+  quitted.
+
+  [36] [Addressing Cupid.]
+
+  [37] The French phrase is _avaler le bonnet_, _i.e._, to lower the
+  bonnet. The etymology of _avaler_ is disputed; but our _vale_, or as
+  it is usually spelt, _vail_, is from _avaler_.
+
+  [38] This was probably a hit at the sort of "_worsted_ conceits" in
+  plays represented at the old Newington theatre, which appears at one
+  time to have been under the management of Philip Henslowe.
+
+  [39] There is a blank in this line in the old copy. Sir Abraham seems
+  as fastidious as most versifiers, and it will be observed, that in
+  reading over his "sonnet" he makes a variety of alterations. Perhaps
+  the blank was left to show that he could not fill it up to his
+  satisfaction, not liking the line as it stood, when he first committed
+  it to paper--
+
+      "Ty _unto thee_, pity both him and it."
+
+  [40] Alluding to the _bauble_ or truncheon, usually with a head carved
+  at the top of it, part of the _insignia_ of the ancient licensed fool
+  or jester.
+
+  [41] Should we not read "is the death on us," or "of us?"
+
+  [42] This is one out of innumerable hits, in our old dramatists, at
+  the indiscriminate creation of knights by James I. Their poverty was a
+  constant subject of laughter. See Ben Jonson's "Alchemist," act ii.;
+  Chapman's "Monsieur d'Olive," act i., and "Widows' Tears," act iv.;
+  Barry's "Ram Alley," act i.; and Middleton's "Mad World, my Masters,"
+  act i., &c. Field's satire is as pungent as that of the best of them.
+
+
+
+
+ACT IV., SCENE I.
+
+
+_Enter_ SCUDMORE _and_ NEVILL.
+
+    I see great'st spirits[43] can serve to their own ends.
+    Were you the seeming servingman that pass'd by?
+
+    SCUD. By my sad heart, I was; and not a tittle
+    Of my relation to thee wrong or feign'd.
+
+    NEV. In troth you were to blame to venture so.
+    Mischiefs find us: we need not mischiefs seek.
+
+    SCUD. I am not tied to that opinion,[44]
+    They are like women, which do always shun
+    Their lovers and pursuers, and do follow
+    With most rank appetites them that do fly:
+    All mischief that I had is but one woman,
+    And that one woman all mischance to me:
+    Who speaks worst of them, there's[45] the best of men.
+    They are like shadows: mischiefs are like them.
+    Death fears me, for in troth I seek him out.
+    The sun is stale to me; to-morrow morn,
+    As this, 'twill rise: I see no difference.
+    The night doth visit me but in one robe,
+    She brings as many thoughts as she wears stars,
+    When she is pleasant, but no rest at all.
+    For what new strange thing should I covet life, then?
+    Is not she false, whom only I thought true?
+    Shall time to show his strength make Scudmore live,
+    Till (perish the vicious thought!) I love not thee,
+    Or thou, dear friend, remove thy heart from me?
+
+    NEV. Time is as weak for that, as he is old.
+    Take comfort, and attend this counsel, friend:
+    This match is neither sacred nor [is] sure;
+    Close fate annihilates what opinion makes,
+    And since she is resolved this night to die,
+    If you do not redeem her, give the means,
+    Or her blood (credit me) will spring heavier griefs.
+    Sorer and stranger, in thy oppressed heart,
+    Than her false love before. Besides, 'tis you,
+    My Scudmore, that are false, if you will not
+    Consent to let her make vows good, which were
+    But in a possibility to be broke.
+    This her repentance casts her vice quite off,
+    And if you leave her now, you take it on.
+    Nay, you incur a bloody mortal sin:
+    You do become an actual murderer.
+    If you neglect her, she will kill herself
+    This night by poison, knife, or other means.
+    God gives you power to cross her desperate will,
+    And if you save not, where you may, you kill.
+
+    SCUD. Why, can my noble and wise friend think still
+    That what a woman says her heart doth mean?
+    Can you believe that she will kill herself?
+    'Tis a full hour, since she spake the word,
+    And God forbid, that any woman's mind
+    Should not be chang'd and chang'd in a long hour.
+    She is by this time in her lordly arms,
+    And, like pleas'd Juno clasp'd by Jupiter,
+    Forgets the plaints of poor mortality:
+    Such state, such pride, as poets show her in,
+    Incens'd with Jove's loose 'scapes upon the earth,
+    She cast on me at our encountering.
+    As cold and heavy as a rock of ice,
+    In her love to me, which while I there stay'd,
+    My bitter and hot words resolv'd[46] a little:
+    Just as the sun doth ice I soften'd her,
+
+    And made her drown her fault in her own tears.
+    But think you she holds this flexible vein?
+    No, I'm remov'd, and she's congeal'd again.
+
+    NEV. How well does Scudmore speak ill for himself!
+    Wit's a disease that fit employment wants;
+    Therefore we see those happiest in best parts,
+    And fortunes under-born unto their merits,[47]
+    Grow to a sullen envy, hate, and scorn
+    Of their superiors; and at last, like winds,
+    Break forth into rebellious civil wars
+    Or private treasons: none so apt for these
+    As melancholy wits, fetter'd with need.
+    How free's the rustic swain from these assaults!
+    He never feels a passion all his life,
+    But when he cannot sleep, or hunger gripes;
+    And though he want reason, wit, art--nay, sense,
+    Is not so senseless to capitulate,
+    And ask God why he made not him as great
+    As that same foolish lord or that rich knave?
+    His brain with nothing does negotiate,
+    But his hard husbandry, which makes him live.
+    But have we worthy gifts, as judgment, learning,
+    Ingenious sharpness (which wise God indeed
+    Doth seldom give out of His equal hand,
+    But join'd with poverty, to make it even
+    With riches, which he clogs with ignorance),
+    We vent our blessing in profane conceits,
+    Foul bawdry, or strong arguments against
+    Ourselves,[48] and stark blindly hold it best
+    Rather to lose a soul than lose a jest.
+
+    SCUD. Ill terms my friend this wit in any man;
+    For that, but season'd with discretion,
+    Holds him in awe of all these blemishes
+    Frees him of envy, doth philosophise
+    His spirit, that he makes no difference
+    'Twixt man and man, 'twixt fortunes high and low,
+    But as the thicker they with virtues grow.
+    Freedom and bondage wit can make all one;
+    So 'twould by being left and being lov'd,
+    If I had any of it temper'd so.
+    But you have spoke all this, condemning me
+    For having wit to speak against myself,
+    But I'll be rul'd by you in all.
+
+    NEV. Then thus.
+    To-night by promise I do give a masque,
+    As to congratulate the bridal day,
+    In which the Count, Pendant, and the wise knight
+    Will be most worthy dancers: sir, you shall
+    Learn but my part, which I will teach you too,
+    As nimbly as the usher did teach me,
+    And follow my further directions.
+    Though I, i' th' morn, were [no][49] prodigious wight,
+    I'll give thee Bellafront in thine arms to-night.
+
+    SCUD. I am your property, my enginer.[50]
+    Prosper your purposes! shine, thou eye of heaven.
+    And make thy lowering morn a smiling even!          [_Exeunt._
+
+
+SCENE II.
+
+_Enter_ CAPTAIN POUTS, _with a letter, and_ STRANGE, _like a soldier_.
+
+    STRANGE. O, these are Lambeth fields.
+
+    CAPT. POUTS. Strange murder'd on the weddingday by you,
+    At his own bride's appointment, for my sake?
+
+    STRANGE. As dead as charity.
+
+    CAPT. POUTS. This sounds not well.
+
+    STRANGE. 'Zoons! you may say as well I am the man,
+    As doubt he lives. A plague of your belief!
+    D'ye know this bloody ruff, which she has sent,
+    Lest you should be incredulous, and this ring
+    Which you have seen her wear.
+
+    CAPT. POUTS. I know the ring,
+    And I have seen the ruff about his neck.
+    This comes of enforc'd marriages. Where was't done?
+    And how escap'd you?
+
+    STRANGE. Sir, receive it briefly.
+    I am her kinsman, and being newly come
+    Over, and not intending to stay long,
+    Took this day to go see my cousin Worldly
+    (For so my name is), where I found all of them
+    So deeply drenched in the bridal cup,
+    That sleep had ta'en possession of their eyes.
+    Bacchus had given them such an overthrow,
+    Their bodies lay like slaughtered carcases;
+    One here, one there, making such antic faces,
+    As drunkenness had mock'd at drunkenness.
+    In troth, their postures and their sleep, like death
+    (For theirs was liker death than sober sleep),
+    Remember'd me of body-scatter'd fields,
+    After the bloody battles I have seen.
+    'Twas such a season, to make short my tale,
+    As fate had said, "Now murders may be done
+    And ne'er reveal'd." Approaching further, I
+    Lighted upon a chamber, where your love
+    Sat by this merchant, cast drunk on the bed--
+    She weeping and lamenting her mishap,
+    Assur'd both, of my daring and my trust,
+    Fell flat upon the ground, then rais'd herself,
+    Hung on my neck, then sunk down to my legs,
+    Told all things pass'd to-day, and never ceas'd,
+    Till I had ta'en life from that half-dead man
+    Before, whom straight I strangled with this rope.
+
+    CAPT. POUTS. You have show'd some kindness to me:
+    I must love you, sir. What did you with his body?
+
+    STRANGE. Having first,
+    By her direction, put on these his clothes,
+    That like the murder'd man the safelier
+    I might pass with her, being her husband's shape,
+    If any of the servants had been wak'd,
+    She show'd me to a necessary vault,
+    Within a closet in the chamber too,
+    And there I threw the body.
+
+    CAPT. POUTS. Whence this blood?
+
+    STRANGE. That she herself first let out of his veins;
+    Wherein she dipp'd the ruff about his neck,
+    And said, "Go, bear this ensign of my love,
+    To assure him what I dar'd for his dear sake."
+
+    CAPT. POUTS. Where is the maid?
+
+    STRANGE. Captain, a maid for you!
+    (But well you know, I hope, she is no maid)
+    But maid or no maid, she is at my mother's,
+    Whence I will bring her whither you'll appoint
+    To-night; and let this tide convey all hence,
+    For staying will be something perilous.
+
+    CAPT. POUTS. I will kill two men for you; till then
+    I owe my life to you, and if ever racks,
+    Strappadoes, wheel, or any torturous engine,
+    Even from the Roman yoke to the Scotch boot,[51]
+    Force me discover you or her to law,
+    Pray God the merchant may respire again.
+    But what a villain have I been to wrong her!
+    Did she not tell you how I injur'd her?
+
+    STRANGE. She said you challeng'd her, and publicly
+    Told you had lain with her; but truth's no wrong.
+
+    CAPT. POUTS. Truth! 'twas more false than hell, and you shall see me
+    (As well as I can repent of any sin)
+    Ask her forgiveness for wounding of her name,
+    And 'gainst the world recover her lost fame.
+    Kind soul! would I could weep to make amends!
+    Why, I did slander her at the church-door.
+
+    STRANGE. The more base villain thou.            [_Strike him._
+
+    CAPT. POUTS. Ha! what's the news?
+
+    STRANGE. Thou unspeakable rascal! thou, a soldier!
+    A captain of the suburbs, a poor foist,[52]
+    That with thy slops and cat-a-mountain face,
+    Thy bladder-chops and thy robustious words,
+    Fright'st the poor whore, and terribly dost exact
+    A weekly subsidy, twelvepence apiece,
+    Whereon thou liv'st; and on my conscience,
+    Thou snapp'st besides with cheats and cutpurses.
+
+    CAPT. POUTS. Heart! this is some railing poet.
+    Why, you rogue!
+
+    STRANGE. Thou rogue--far worse than rogues--thou slanderer!
+
+    CAPT. POUTS. Thou worse than slanderous rogues; thou murderer!
+
+    STRANGE. 'Tis well-remember'd: I will cut thy throat,
+    To appease that merchant's soul, which ne'er will rest
+    Till some revenge be taken on thy tongue.
+
+    CAPT. POUTS. I'll kill thee first, and in thy vital flood
+    Wash my hands clean of that young merchant's blood.  [_Fight._
+
+    STRANGE. You fight, as if you had fought afore.
+    I can still hold my sword: come on, sir.
+
+    CAPT. POUTS. 'Zoons! can you ward so well? I think you are
+    One of the noble science of defence.
+
+    STRANGE. True, o' th' science of noble defence I am,
+    That fight in safeguard of a virtuous name.
+                                           [_Cadit_ CAPTAIN POUTS.
+
+    CAPT. POUTS. O, now I understand you, and you stand over me. My
+    hurts are not mortal, but you have the better. If your name be
+    Worldly, be thankful for your fortune.
+
+    STRANGE. Give me thy sword, or I will kill thee.
+
+    CAPT. POUTS. Some wiser than some! I love my reputation well, yet I
+    am not so valiant an ass but I love my life better. There's my
+    sword.
+
+    STRANGE. Then get upon my back: come, all shall be well. I'll carry
+    thee unto a surgeon first, And then unto thy wench. Come, we are
+    friends.
+
+    CAPT. POUTS. God-a-mercy. 'Zoons! methinks I see myself in
+    Moorfields, upon a wooden leg, begging threepence.[53]
+
+    STRANGE. I thank thee, heaven, for my success in this.
+    To what perfection, is my business grown!
+    Seldom or never is right overthrown.
+                         [_Exit with_ CAPTAIN POUTS _on his back_.
+
+_Enter_ PENDANT, _and_ MISTRESS WAGTAIL _with work, sewing a purse_.
+
+PEN. They say every woman has a springe to catch a woodcock: remember my
+instructions, and let me see what a paradise thou canst bring this fool
+into. Fifteen hundred a year, wench, will make us all merry; but a fool
+to boot! why, we shall throw the house out at window. Let me see, there
+are two things in this foolish, transitory world which should be
+altogether regarded: profit and pleasure, or pleasure and profit--I know
+not which to place first, for indeed they are twins, and were born
+together. For profit, this marriage (God speed it!) marries you to it;
+and for pleasure, if I help you not to that as cheap as any man in
+England, call me cut.[54] And so remember my instructions, for I'll go
+fetch Sir Abraham. [_Exit._
+
+WAG. Your instructions! Nay, faith, you shall see I have as fruitful a
+brain as a belly: you shall hear some additions of my own. My fantasy
+even kicks like my bastard: well, boy, for I know thou art masculine,
+neither thy father nor thy mother had any feminine quality but one, and
+that was to take a good thing when it was proffered. When thou
+inherit'st land, strange both to thy father and grandfather, and rid'st
+in a coach, it may be thy father, an old footman, will be running by
+thy side. But yonder comes the gentle knight and my squire.
+
+_Enter SIR ABRAHAM and PENDANT stealing.[55]_
+
+    WAG. Unfortunate damsel! why dost thou love
+    Where thou hast sworn it never to reveal?
+    Maybe he would vouchsafe to look on thee.
+    Because he is a knight, is it thy terror?
+    Why, peradventure, he is Knighthood's Mirror[56].
+
+    PEN. D'ye hear, Sir Abraham?
+
+    ABRA. Yes, with standing tears.
+
+    WAG. Bevis[57] on Arundel, with Morglay in hand,
+    Near to my knight in prowess doth not stand.
+    They say Sir Bevis slew both boar and dragon,
+    My knight for that can drink up a whole flagon,
+    A thing as famous now amongst our men,
+    As killing monsters was accounted then.
+    'Tis not thy leg, no, were it twice as good,
+    Throws me into this melancholy mood;
+    Yet let me say and swear, in a cross-garter
+    Paul's never show'd to eyes a lovelier quarter.
+
+    ABRA. Ay, but all this while she does not name me: she may mean
+    somebody else.
+
+    PEN. Mean somebody else! you shall hear her name you by and by.
+
+    WAG. Courteous Sir Abraham.
+
+    PEN. La ye there!
+
+    WAG. O, thy very name,
+    Like to a hatchet, cleaves my heart in twain.
+    When first I saw thee in those little breeches,
+    I laugh'd for joy, but when I heard thy speeches,
+    I smil'd downright, for I was almost frantic,
+    A modern knight should be so like an antic
+    In words and deeds. Those pinken-eyes[58] of thine,
+    For I shall ne'er be blest to call them mine----
+
+    ABRA. Say not so, sweetheart.
+
+    WAG. How they did run, not rheumaticly run,
+    But round about the room, one over one!
+    That wide mouth? no, small: no, but middle-size,
+    That nose dominical, that head, like----wise.
+
+    PEN. Very good: d'ye mark that head likewise?
+
+    ABRA. She has an excellent wit.
+
+PEN. I'll now into her, sir: observe what follows. Now, turtle, mourning
+still for the party? for whom are you working that purse?
+
+ABRA. For me, I warrant her. [_Aside._]
+
+WAG. What news, good cousin? I hope you have not revealed my love.
+
+PEN. Yes, faith, I have acquainted the knight with all; and thou may'st
+be ashamed to abuse a gentleman so slanderously. He swears he ne'er lay
+with you.
+
+WAG. Lie with me? alas! no, I say not so, nor no man living; but there
+was one night above the rest, that I dreamt he lay with me; and did you
+ne'er hear of a child begot in a dream.
+
+ABRA. By this light, that very night I dreamt she lay with me.
+
+                                                           [_Aside._]
+
+PEN. Ay, but Sir Abraham is no dreaming knight: in short, he contemns
+you, he scorns you at his heels.
+
+ABRA. By God, so he lies. I have the most ado to forbear, but that I
+would hear a little more.
+
+PEN. And has sent this halter. You may hang yourself, or you may cut
+your throat: here's a knife, too.
+
+    WAG. Well, I will love him in despite of all,
+    Howe'er he uses me! 'tis not the shame
+    Of being examin'd or the fear of whipping----
+
+    PEN. Make as if thou wouldst kill thyself.          [_Aside._]
+
+    WAG. ----should move me, would but he vouchsafe his love.
+    Bear him this purse, fill'd with my latest breath. [_Blows in it._
+    I lov'd thee, Abraham Ninny, even in death. [_Offers to stab._
+
+    ABRA. Hold! hold! thy knight commands thee for to hold.
+    I sent no halter. Poor soul, how it pants!
+    Take courage, look up.
+
+    PEN. Look, Sir Abraham in person comes to see you.
+
+    WAG. O, let me die, then, in his worship's arms!
+
+    ABRA. Live long and happy to produce thy baby:
+    I am thy knight, and thou shalt be my lady.
+    Frown, dad, fret, mother, so my love look cheerly:
+    Thou hast my heart, and thou hast bought it dearly;
+    And for your pains, if Abraham live t' inherit,
+    He will not be unmindful of your merit.
+    Wear thou this ring, whilst I thy labours task.
+    This purse wear in my cap, anon i' th' masque[59].
+
+    WAG. O happy woman!
+
+    ABRA. To supper let's, and merry be as may be.
+
+    PEN. Now, God send every wise knight such a lady.   [_Exeunt._
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+  [43] The word _spirit_ in our old poets was often pronounced as one
+  syllable, and hence, in fact, the corruption _sprite_. This line is
+  not measure without so reading it.
+
+  [44] This is the first line of Scudmore's answer; but in the old copy
+  that and the eighteen lines following it are given to Nevill.
+
+  [45] [Old copy, _then_.]
+
+  [46] See note to "Hamlet," act i. sc. 2, for a collection of instances
+  in which _resolve_ means _dissolve_. Probably the latest example is to
+  be found in Pope's "Homer"--
+
+      "The phantom said, then vanish'd from his sight,
+      _Resolves_ to air, and mixes with the night."
+
+  --"Iliad," b. ii.
+
+  In some recent editions it has been thought an improvement to alter
+  _resolves_ to _dissolves_.
+
+  [47] [Old copy, _under-born fortunes under their merits_.]
+
+  [48] [Old copy reads--
+
+      "Or in strange arguments against ourselves,
+      Foul bawdry, and stark," &c.]
+
+  [49] [Old copy, _a_.]
+
+  [50] The old word for engineer: so in Heywood's "Edward IV.,
+  Part II.," 1600, sig. M 3--
+
+                    "But it was not you
+      At whom the fatal _enginer_ did aim."
+
+  Ben Jonson uses it in his "Cataline," act iii. sc. 4--
+
+      "The _enginers_ I told you of are working."
+
+
+  [51] A well-known instrument of torture.
+
+  [52] Dekker, in his "Bellman of London," sig. H 2, explains _foist_ to
+  be a pickpocket; and instances of the use of it in this sense, and as
+  a rogue and cheater, may be found in many of our old writers.
+
+  [53] It will be recollected that Brainworm, in "Every Man in his
+  Humour," is represented upon a wooden leg, begging in Moorfields, like
+  an old soldier. [See further in Hazlitt's "Popular Poetry," iv.
+  38-40.]
+
+  [54] This passage, among others, is quoted by Steevens in a note to
+  "Twelfth Night," to show that _cut_, which also means a _horse_, was
+  employed as a term of abuse. In "Henry IV., Part I.," Falstaff, for
+  the same purpose, uses _horse_ as synonymous with _cut:_ "Spit in my
+  face, and call me _horse_."
+
+  [55] [_i.e._, Furtively.]
+
+  [56] [An allusion to the romance entitled "The Mirror of Knighthood."]
+
+  [57] She has just referred to the well-known work "The Mirror of
+  Knighthood," and by _Bevis_ she means Bevis of Hampton. _Arundel_ was
+  the name of his horse, and _Morglay_ of his sword. Morglay is often
+  used for a sword in general.
+
+  [58] In the old copy it is printed _pinkanies_, and from what follows
+  it seems that the expression has reference to the redness of Sir
+  Abraham's eyes from soreness. The following passage is to the same
+  effect: "'Twould make a horse break his bridle to hear how the youth
+  of the village will commend me: 'O the pretty little _pinking nyes_ of
+  Mopsa!' says one: 'O the fine fat lips of Mopsa!' says
+  another."--Day's "Isle of Gulls," 1606, sig. D 4.
+
+  Shakespeare ("Antony and Cleopatra," act ii. sc. 7), speaks of "plumpy
+  Bacchus with _pink eyne;_" and Lodge, in "The Wounds of Civil War,"
+  has _pinky neyne_, [vii. 167.] In both these instances drinking is
+  supposed to have occasioned the redness.
+
+
+
+
+ACT V., SCENE 1.
+
+
+_Enter_ BELLAFRONT.
+
+    BEL. Titles and state, d'ye call it? O content!
+    Thou art both beauty, means, and all in marriage.
+    Joy dwells not in the princes' palaces:
+    They that envy 'em do not know their cares.
+    Were I the queen of gold, it could not buy
+    An hour's ease for my oppressed heart.
+    O, were this wedlock knot to tie again,
+    Not all the state and glory it contains,
+    Join'd with my father's fury, should enforce
+    My rash consent! but, Scudmore, thou shalt see
+    This false heart (in my death) most true to thee.
+                            [_Shows a knife hanging by her side._
+    My lord, my father, all the company,
+    Did note my sudden sadness now at supper;
+    Yet came I out, and put on feigned mirth,
+    And mean to sit out this night's revels, too,
+    To avoid all suspect may grow in 'em,
+    Lest my behaviour should my intent reveal:
+    Our griefs, like love, we hardly can conceal[60].
+    Yon come my sisters. Are the masquers ready?
+
+_Enter_ LUCIDA, _with her willow garland on, and_ KATHERINE.
+
+    LUC. They are gone to dress themselves. Master Nevill's come.
+    I would I had not vow'd to live a maid!
+    I am a little taken with that gentleman,
+    And yet if marriage be so full of ill,
+    Let me be married to my garland still.
+
+    KATH. In troth, thy state is happier much than ours.
+    Were never two like us unfortunate!
+
+    LUC. Thy case indeed I needs must pity much,
+    Because I think thy virtue slandered;
+    But for my lady sister, if she reap
+    Sad discontent, 'tis none's but her own fault:
+    I knew the passages 'twixt her and Scudmore.
+
+    BEL. Sister, I wonder you will name a man,
+    I think not on: he was no match for me.
+    Why d'ye blame me, that should rather blame
+    Your wandering eye, to love a man lov'd me?
+
+    LUC. Well, 'tis too late now to expostulate.
+    But, my poor little Kate, where is thy man?
+
+    KATH. Lost, lost, in troth: to-morrow I shall hear,
+    I make account, he's gone some five-years' voyage,
+    Till this disgrace of ours be overblown;
+    And for my Captain Pouts, by this time he
+    Is ten mile on the river toward Gravesend.
+
+_Enter_ SIR JOHN WORLDLY _with_ SERVANTS, _with torches and cudgels_.
+
+    SIR J. WOR. Stand you two there. Sirrah, go you with me.
+    Why, how now, girls! here still? what, and your ladyship?
+    Away! away, I say: go take your places.
+    Some torches for my lady! You sirrah,
+                               [_Exeunt_ BELLAFRONT, LUCIDA, KATE.
+    Is my Lady Ninny awake yet?[61]
+
+    SER. Yes, sir, she is awake, but she is scant sober: the first thing
+    she called for was her aqua-vitæ bottle.
+
+    SIR J. WOR. Who is with her?
+
+    SER. The good Sir Innocent and her gentlewoman.
+
+    SIR J. WOR. Go, tell 'em I desire their company,
+    The masque stays on 'em, say; and d'ye hear,
+    The sides of one o' th' chairs must be let out
+    For her great ladyship.
+
+    SER. Marry, shall it, sir.                    [_Exit_ SERVANT.
+
+_Enter_ NEVILL, COUNT, PENDANT, _and_ SIR ABRAHAM, _in their masquing
+robes;_ SIR ABRAHAM _gnawing on a capon's leg_.
+
+NEV. Soul! man, leave eating now: look, look! you have all dropped o'
+your suit.
+
+ABRA. O sir, I was in love to-day, and could not eat; but here's one
+knows the case is altered. Lend me but a handkerchief to wipe my mouth,
+and I ha' done.
+
+NEV. Soul! how this rascal stays with the rest of our things.
+
+SIR J. WOR. How now, son Count? what, ready, Master Nevill?
+
+NEV. All ready, ready; only we tarry for our vizards and our caps: I put
+'em to a knave to do,[62] because I would have 'em the better done.
+
+ABRA. If you put 'em to a knave, you are like to have 'em the worse
+done.
+
+NEV. Your wit is most active: I called him knave in regard of his long
+stay, sir, not his work.
+
+ABRA. But, d'ye hear, Master Nevill? did you bespeak a vizard with a
+most terrible countenance for me?
+
+NEV. A very devil's face: I fear nothing, but that it will fright the
+women.
+
+ABRA. I would it would. And a huge moustachio?[63]
+
+NEV. A very Turk's.
+
+ABRA. Excellent!
+
+C. FRED. But do you think he will come at all?
+
+OMNES. O, there he is.
+
+SCUD. (_Within_). By your leave! stand back, by your leave!
+
+_Enter_ SCUDMORE, _like a vizard-maker_.
+
+Nothing can be done to-night, if I enter not.
+
+2D SER. Stand back there, or I'll burn you.
+
+SCUD. 'Twere but a whorish trick, sir.
+
+3D SER. O sir, is't you? Heart! you will be kill'd.
+
+SCUD. Marry, God forbid, sir.
+
+NEV. Pray, forbear; let me speak to him. O, you use us very well.
+
+SCUD. In good faith, I have been so troubled about this gentleman's
+scurvy face (I take it), 'tis wonderful.
+
+ABRA. Well, are you fitted now?
+
+NEV. Fitted at all points.
+
+C. FRED. Where are the caps?
+
+SCUD. Here, sir.
+
+PEN. Let me see mine.
+
+C. FRED. Come, help me on with mine.
+
+ABRA. This is a rare face to fright the maids i' th' country! Here now
+I'll pin my purse. Come, help me on.
+
+NEV. So, so, away! mine being on, I'll follow you.
+
+    OMNES. Pray, make haste.
+                [_Exeunt_ SIR JOHN WORLDLY, SIR ABRAHAM, COUNT, PENDANT.
+
+    NEV. So, that door's fast, and they are busied
+    About their charge. On with this robe of mine,
+    This vizard and this cap: help me a little.  [_Change habits._
+
+    SCUD. At first change I must tell her who I am.
+
+    NEV. Right; 'tis agreed, I (leading of the masque)
+    Should dance with Bellafront.
+
+    SCUD. And at the second,
+    I come away with her, and leave them dancing,
+    And shall find you at the back door.
+
+    NEV. The rest,
+    That follows, is digested in my breast.
+
+    SER. What would you do I stand back,
+    Unless you can eat torches!
+
+_Enter_ COUNT, PENDANT, SIR ABRAHAM, _in their masquing robes_.
+
+    C. FRED. Come, come! away for shame!
+
+    SCUD. 'Tis such a tedious rascal. So ha' wi' ye. [_Exeunt masquers._
+
+    SIR J. WOR. Thou hast well fitted 'em, though thou mad'st 'em stay.
+
+    NEV. I forbid any man to mend 'em, sir. Good night unto your
+    worship.
+
+    SIR J. WOR. Wilt not stay?
+
+    NEV. Alas, sir! I have another to set forth
+    This very night. By your leave, my masters.
+                                    [_Exit_ NEVILL _through them_.
+
+    2D SER. By your leave! by your leave! you'll let a man go out?
+
+    SIR J. WOR. Now, go with me, and let all in that will.
+   [_Exit_ SIR JOHN WORLDLY _with them, and run in three or four_.
+
+
+SCENE II.
+
+_Enter two or three, setting three or four chairs and four or five
+stools. Loud music; in which time enter_ SIR JOHN WORLDLY, SIR INNOCENT,
+BELLAFRONT, LUCIDA, KATE, _my_ LADY NINNY, MISTRESS WAGTAIL. _They seat
+themselves_. LADY NINNY _offers at two or three chairs; at last finds
+the great one; they point at her and laugh. As soon as she is set, she
+drinks of her bottle. The music plays, and they enter. After one strain
+of the music_, SCUDMORE _takes_ BELLAFRONT, _who seems unwilling to
+dance_. COUNT _takes_ LUCIDA; PENDANT, KATE; SIR ABRAHAM, MISTRESS
+WAGTAIL: SCUDMORE, _as they stand (the other courting too), whispers as
+follows:_--
+
+    SCUD. I am your Scudmore.                       [_Soft music._
+
+    BEL. Ha!
+
+    SCUD. By heaven, I am.
+    Be rul'd by me in all things.
+
+    BEL. Even to death.
+
+    ABRA. 'Sfoot! Did you not know me by my purse?
+
+    WAG. I should ne'er have known you by that, for you wear it on your
+    head, and other folks in their pockets.
+
+    L. NIN. Which is my lord, I pray?
+
+    SIR J. WOR. The second man:
+    Young Nevill leads.
+
+    SIR INN. And where's Sir Abraham?
+
+    SIR J. WOR. He with the terrible visage.
+
+    L. NIN. Now, out upon him to disfigure himself so:
+    And 'twere not for my bottle, I should swoon.
+              [_Music, and they dance the second strain, in which_
+                SCUDMORE _goes away with_ BELLAFRONT.
+
+    OMNES SPECTATORES. Good, very good!
+           [_The other four dance another strain, honour and end._
+
+    C. FRED. But where's the bride and Nevill?
+
+    OMNES. Ha!
+
+    ABRA. 'Ware tricks!
+
+    SIR J. WOR. O, there they come: it was their parts to do so.
+
+_Enter_ SCUDMORE _unvizarded_, BELLAFRONT, _with pistols and the right
+Parson_.
+
+    C. FRED. This Nevill? This is Scudmore.
+
+    OMNES. How?
+
+    C. FRED. But here's my lady.
+
+    SCUD. No, my gentlewoman.
+
+    ABRA. 'Zoons! treason! I smell powder.
+
+    BEL. In short, know,
+    That I am married to this gentleman,
+    To whom I was contracted long ago.
+    This priest the inviolable knot hath tied.
+    What ease I find being unladified!                  [_Aside._]
+
+    C. FRED. What riddle's this?
+
+    SIR INN. 'Ware the last statute of two husbands.
+
+    SCUD. and BEL. Pish!
+
+    C. FRED. This is the very priest that married me:
+    Is it not, sister?
+
+_Enter_ NEVILL, _like the Parson too_.
+
+    NEV. No.
+
+    ABRA. Lord bless us! here is conjuring!
+    Lend me your aqua-vitæ bottle, good mother.
+
+    SIR J. WOR. Heyday!
+    The world's turn'd upside down. I have heard and seen
+    Two or three benefices to one priest, or more,
+    But two priests to one benefice ne'er before.
+
+    PEN. Married not you the earl?
+
+    PAR. _Bona fide_, no.
+
+    SIR J. WOR. You did, then?
+
+    NEV. Yes.
+
+    C. FRED. I have the privilege, then?
+
+    SIR J. WOR. Right, you were married first.
+
+    SCUD. Sir John, you doat,
+    This is a devil in a parson's coat.
+                   [NEVILL _puts off the Priest's weeds, and has a
+                            devil's robe under_.
+
+    OMNES. A pretty emblem!
+
+    NEV. Who married her, or would have caus'd her marry,
+    To any man but this, no better was;
+    Let circumstances be examined.
+    Yet here's one more: and now I hope you all
+    Perceive my marrying not canonical. [_Slips off his devil's weeds._
+
+    OMNES. Nevill, whoop!
+
+C. FRED. Heart! what a deal of knavery a priest's cloak can hide. If it
+be not one of the honestest, friendliest cozenages that 'ere I saw, I am
+no lord.
+
+KATH. Life! I am not married, then, in earnest.
+
+NEV. So, Mistress Kate, I kept you for myself.
+
+SIR J. WOR. It boots not to be angry.
+
+SIR INN. _and_ LADY. No, faith, Sir John.
+
+_Enter_ STRANGE, _with_ POUTS _on his back_.
+
+2D. SER. Whither will you go with your calf on your back, sir?
+
+SIR J. WOR. Now, more knavery yet?
+
+    STRANGE. Prythee, forbear, or I shall do thee mischief.
+    By your leave, here is some sad to your merriment.
+    Know you this captain?
+
+OMNES. Yes, very well.
+
+KATH. O sister, here's the villain slander'd me.
+
+STRANGE. You see he cannot stand to't.
+
+ABRA. Is he hurt in the arm, too?
+
+STRANGE. Yes.
+
+ABRA. Why, then, by God's-lid, thou art a base rogue. I knew I should
+live to tell thee so.
+
+L. NIN. Sir Abraham, I say!
+
+OMNES. Heaven is just.
+
+    CAPT. POUTS. What a rogue are you!
+    Is this the surgeon you would carry me to?
+
+    STRANGE. Confess your slander, and I will, I swear.
+
+    CAPT. POUTS. Nay, 'tis no matter, I'll cry quittance with you.
+    Forgive me, Mistress Kate, and know, all people,
+    I lied not with her, but belied her once;
+    And to my recantation that same soldier
+    Enforc'd my hand.
+
+    STRANGE. Yes, here 'tis, Mistress Kate.
+                                    [_They all look on the paper._
+
+    CAPT. POUTS. I see now how I am cheated. Love him well.
+    He has redeem'd your honour with his sword.
+
+    Sir J. Wor. But where is Strange my son? O, were he here,
+    He should be married new to make all sure.
+
+    KATH. O my divining spirit, he's gone to sea!
+
+    CAPT. POUTS. This cunning in her is exceeding good.
+    Your son--your husband Strange is murdered.
+
+    OMNES. How?
+
+    STRANGE. Peace, peace! For heaven's sake, peace!
+    Come, sir, I'll carry you to a surgeon.
+    Here's gold to stop thy throat. For God's sake, peace!
+
+    CAPT. POUTS. Sirrah, you have brought me to a surgeon already:
+    I'll be even with you.
+
+    KATH. Of all men living I could marry thee,
+    Were not my heart given to another man.
+    Sir, you did speak of Strange?
+
+    CAPT. POUTS. These women are as crafty as the devil.
+    Yes, I did speak of him: Sir John, my lord,
+    Know Strange is murder'd by that villain's hand,
+    And by his wife's consent.
+
+    OMNES. How?
+
+    SIR J. WOR. God forbid!
+
+    CAPT. POUTS. Search presently the closet and the vault,
+    There you shall find his body: 'tis too true.
+    The reason all may guess: her husband, wanting
+    Spirit to do on me what he hath done,
+    In hope to marry her, he hath murder'd him.
+
+    KATH. To marry me! No, villain: I do hate him
+    On this report worse than I do thyself;
+    And may the plagues and tortures of a land
+    Seize me if this be not an innocent hand.
+
+    SIR J. WOR. 'Fore God, 'tis most like truth.
+    Son Scudmore, pray
+    Look to this fellow: gentlemen, assist.
+    Torches! some torches! I'll go search myself.
+
+    SIR INN. I will assist you.
+
+    C. FRED. But I pray, sir, how came you unto this knowledge?
+
+    CAPT. POUTS. From his mouth.
+
+    STRANGE. I'll save your labour, and discover all.
+    Thou perjur'd villain, didst not swear thou wouldst not
+    Discover me?
+
+    CAPT. POUTS. I but swore in jest.
+
+    STRANGE. Nay, but remember, thou didst wish Strange living,
+    If ever thou didst tell.
+
+    CAPT. POUTS. Sir, all is true,[64]
+    And would my punishment would ease my conscience.
+
+    SIR J. WOR. To Newgate with him! hence! take her along.
+    Out, murderers! whore, thou art no child of mine!
+    Fetch constable and officers. Away!
+
+    STRANGE. Sir, do but hear me speak.
+
+    SIR J. WOR. Fetch officers!
+
+    CAPT. POUTS. Go fetch a surgeon.
+
+    STRANGE. Sir, you are then too violent. I will bail her.
+                                             [_Discovers himself._
+
+    KATH. O my dear Strange!
+
+    SIR J. WOR. My son!
+
+    SCUD., LUC., BEL. Brother!
+
+    OMNES. Young Strange!
+
+    CAPT. POUTS. Heart! I was never sick before: help me now to a
+    surgeon, or I shall swoon instantly.
+                                        [_As two lead him, he speaks._
+    Thou wert born a woman-citizen; fare thee well.
+    And farewell, love and women, ye diseases:
+    My horse and sword shall be my mistresses,
+    My horse I'll court, my sword shall lie with me.      [_Exit._
+
+STRANGE. The way to cure lust is to bleed, I see.
+
+C. FRED. Tell him all, Scudmore, whilst I go a-wooing again. Sir John,
+will you go along, and my two worshipful elders, I pray, be your
+witnesses. Priest, go not you away. Heart! I have so ruminated on a
+wife, that I must have one this night, or I shall run proud.[65]
+
+    [NEVILL, SCUDMORE, BELLAFRONT, STRANGE, KATHERINE, _whisper in
+     one part_. PENDANT, SIR ABRAHAM, _and_ WAGTAIL _in another_.
+
+Mistress Lucida, you did once love me; if you do still, no more words,
+but give me your hand. Why are ye doubtful?
+
+ABRA. Ne'er look upon me, Mistress Lucida; time was, time is, and time's
+pass'd. I'll none of you now: I am otherwise provided.
+
+    PEN. Well spoken, brazen-head![66] now or never, Sir Abraham.
+
+    ABRA. Then first, as duty binds, I crave consent
+    Of my two parents dear: if ay, say so;
+    If not, I'll ha' her, whether you will or no.
+
+    SIR INN. How? how?
+
+    L. NIN. I hope you will not.
+
+ABRA. Ma'am, I am resolved: you have a humour of your aqua-vitæ bottle,
+why should not I have a humour in a wife?
+
+SIR J. WOR. An old man were a fitter match for her: He would make much
+of her.
+
+ABRA. Much on her? I know not what ye call much making on her, I am
+sure I have made two on her.
+
+    PEN. And that an old man cannot do, I hope.
+
+    NEV. O thou beyond Lawrence of Lancashire.[67]
+
+    SIR INN. Come, come, you shall not.
+
+    ABRA. Speak not in vain; I am too sure to change,
+    For hand and heart are sure: _Ecce signum_.
+    And this have I done, and never lay with her.
+
+    SIR J. WOR. Nay, then, 'tis too late;
+    'Tis sure: 'tis vain to cross the will of fate.
+
+    SIR INN. _and_ LADY. Well, well, God bless you.
+                                   [ABRAHAM _and_ WAGTAIL _kneel_.
+
+    ABRA. Thanks, reverend couple, and God bless withal
+    The little Ninny that herein doth sprawl.
+    Parson, you shall despatch us presently:
+    Lord, how soberly you stand!
+
+    PAR. Now truly I could ne'er stand drunk in my life.
+
+    STRANGE. Strange and most fortunate, we must have a new Tuck then.
+
+    C. FRED. Is it a match?
+
+    LUC. 'Tis done.
+
+    C. FRED. Then Bacchus squeeze grapes with a plenteous hand.
+    Parson, you'll take some pains with us to-night.
+    Come, brothers, come: fly, willow, to the woods,
+    And, like the sea, for healths let's drink whole floods.
+
+    STRANGE. I consecrate my deed unto the city,
+    And hope to live myself to see the day,
+    It shall be shown to people in a play.
+
+    SCUD. And may all true love have like happy end.
+    Women, forgive me; men, admire my friend.
+
+    SIR J. WOR. On, parson, on; and, boy, outvoice the music.[68]
+    Ne'er was so much (what cannot heavenly powers?)
+    Done and undone, and done in twelve short hours.    [_Exeunt._
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+  [59] [See _post_.]
+
+  [60] The difficulty of concealing love has been the origin of a
+  humorous proverb in Italian. In Pulci's "Morgante Maggiore," iv. 38,
+  Rinaldo thus taunts the most sentimental of the Paladins, Oliver, when
+  he becomes enamoured of Florisena--
+
+      "_Vero è pur che l'uom non possa,_
+      _Celar per certo l'amore e la tossa._"
+
+  [See Hazlitt's "Proverbs," 1869, p. 269.]
+
+  Franco Sacchetti, in his sixteenth novel, expressly tells us that it
+  was a proverb. _Perchè ben dice il proverbio, che l'amore e la tossa
+  non si puo celare mai._
+
+  [61] The question
+
+              "You, sirrah,
+      Is my Lady Ninny awake yet?"
+
+  is given in the old 4º to Scudmore, but it belongs to Sir John
+  Worldly. Scudmore is not on the stage.
+
+  [62] Old copy, _doing_.
+
+  [63] Old copy, _moustachios_.
+
+  [64] [The old copy and Collier give this speech to Strange.]
+
+  [65] [In the sense of _hot_, salacious.]
+
+  [66] An allusion to the well-known story of Friar Bacon and his brazen
+  head, which spoke three times, but was not attended to by his man
+  Miles. See Greene's "Friar Bacon and Friar Bungay," [in Dyce's edits,
+  of Greene, and the prose narrative in Thoms's Collection, 1828.]
+
+  [67] A boisterous, clownish character in the play of "The Lancashire
+  Witches," by Heywood and Brome. It was not printed until 1634. Either
+  Lawrence was a person who figured in that transaction, and whose name
+  is not recorded, or (which is not impossible) the play was written
+  very long before it was printed.
+
+  [68] Perhaps the play originally ended with a song by a boy, in which
+  the rest joined chorus.
+
+
+
+
+AMENDS FOR LADIES.
+
+
+
+
+_EDITIONS._
+
+
+_Amends for Ladies. A Comedie. As it was acted at the Blacke-Fryers,
+both by the Princes Servants, and the Lady Elizabeths. By Nat. Field.
+London: Printed by G. Eld, for Math. Walbancke, and are to be sold at
+his Shop at the new Gate of Grayes Inne, or at the old._ 1618. 4º.
+
+_Amends for Ladies. With the merry prankes of Moll Cut-Purse, Or, the
+humour of roaring: A Comedy full of honest mirth and wit. As it was
+Acted at the Blacke-Fryers both by the Princes Servants and the Lady
+Elizabeths. By Nath. Field. London, Printed by Io. Okes, for Math.
+Walbancke, and are to be sold at his Shop at Grayes-Inne Gate._ 1639. 4º.
+
+
+
+
+INTRODUCTION.
+
+
+This excellent old comedy seems to have been deservedly popular on its
+performance by two different companies at the Black Friars Theatre
+before 1618, and it was twice printed. It is not easy to decide whether
+the comic or the serious scenes are the best; although the first are not
+without some of the coarseness which belonged to the manners of the age.
+The language is generally well-chosen. Some passages are of the higher
+order of poetry, and from them we may judge that Field was capable of
+writing other parts of "The Fatal Dowry" than those which Mr Gifford, in
+his just admiration of Massinger, was willing to assign to him. The
+characters are numerous, varied, and well-distinguished.
+
+The object of the play was to vindicate the female sex, attacked in
+"Woman is a Weathercock;" and it is accomplished amply and happily in
+the persons of the Maid, Wife, and Widow. The plot is threefold,
+applying to each of them, but the incidents are interwoven with
+ingenuity, and concluded without confusion. In several of our old plays,
+husbands become, or endeavour to become, the instruments of the
+dishonour of their wives. Middleton was too fond of incidents of this
+odious kind, which are to be found in his "Chaste Maid in Cheapside,"
+1630, and in "Anything for a Quiet Life," 1662;[69] but in both cases
+the purpose of the husband was to profit by his own disgrace. In
+Field's "Amends for Ladies," the husband only resorts to this expedient
+to put his wife's fidelity to the test. This portion of the play was
+borrowed, in several of its preliminary circumstances, from the novel of
+the "Curioso Impertinente" in "Don Quixote;" but it would not have
+accorded with Field's design of making amends to the fair sex that
+Subtle should have met with the same success as Lothario. The attempt of
+Bold in disguise upon the Widow was taken from an incident apparently
+well known about the date when the play was written, and referred to in
+it. The original of that part of the comedy which relates to Ingen and
+the Lady Honour has not been found, and perhaps it was the invention of
+the poet.
+
+The two editions of this play in 1618 and 1639 do not materially vary,
+although the difference between the title-pages might lead to the
+supposition that "the merry pranks of Moll Cut-purse" and the "humour of
+roaring" were new in the latter copy. It seldom happens that faith is to
+be put in attractive changes of title-pages. Middleton and Rowley's
+"Fair Quarrel" is, indeed, an instance to the contrary; for the edition
+of 1622 contains a good deal of curious matter connected with the
+manners of the times, promised in "the fore-front of the book," and not
+found in the copy of 1617. In "Amends for Ladies," Moll Cut-purse only
+appears in one scene. The variations between the impressions are errors
+of the press, some of which are important of their kind, and such as
+rendered a careful collation absolutely necessary.
+
+It may here, perhaps, be worth while to place in one view the scanty and
+scattered information regarding Mary Frith (_alias_ Moll Cut-purse), the
+Roaring Girl. She was a woman who commonly dressed like a man, and
+challenged several male opponents, bearing, during her life, the
+character of a bully, a thief, a bawd, a receiver of stolen goods,
+&c.[70] She appears to have been the daughter of a shoemaker, born in
+1584, dead in 1659, and buried in what is now called St Bride's Church.
+In February 1611-12, she did penance at Paul's Cross, but the
+letter mentioning this fact, which is in the British Museum, does not
+state for what offence. Among other daring exploits, she robbed, or
+assisted in robbing, General Fairfax on Hounslow Heath, for which she
+was sent to Newgate, but afterwards liberated without trial. The
+immediate cause of her death was a dropsy, and she seems then to have
+been possessed of property. She lived in her own house in Fleet Street,
+next the Globe Tavern, and left £20 that the conduit might run wine on
+the expected return of Charles II. Besides the comedy by Middleton and
+Dekker [printed in the works of Middleton], John Day wrote "a book of
+the mad pranks of Merry Moll of the Bankside." It was entered at
+Stationers' Hall in 1610, and perhaps the play of which she is the
+heroine was founded upon it. Another account of her life was printed in
+1662, shortly after her decease. She is supposed to be alluded to by
+Shakespeare in "Twelfth Night," act i. sc. 3, and obtained such "bad
+eminence," in point of notoriety, that it is not surprising (according
+to the evidence of the authors of "The Witch of Edmonton," act v. sc.
+1), that some of the dogs at Paris Garden, used in baiting bulls and
+bears, were named after her.
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+  [69] [Although the printed copies bear the date here given, the plays
+  in question were written many years before, Middleton having probably
+  died in 1626.]
+
+  [70] She is the "honest Moll" alluded to by City-wit in R. Brome's
+  "Court Beggar," act ii. sc. 1, to whom he is to go for the recovery of
+  his purse, after he had had his pocket picked while looking at the
+  news in the window of "the _Coranto_ shop." He afterwards states that
+  she "deals in private for the recovery of such goods."
+
+
+
+
+DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.[71]
+
+
+    COUNT, _father of Lord Feesimple_.
+
+    LORD FEESIMPLE.
+
+    LORD PROUDLY.
+
+    SIR JOHN LOVE-ALL, _called Husband_.
+
+    SUBTLE, _his friend_.
+
+    INGEN, _in love with Lady Honour_.
+
+    FRANK, _his younger brother_.
+
+    BOLD, _in love with Lady Bright_.
+
+    WELLTRIED, _his friend_.
+
+    SELDOM, _a citizen_.
+
+
+    WHOREBANG, }
+     BOTS,     }
+                } _Roarers_.
+    TEARCHAPS, }
+    SPILLBLOOD,}
+
+    PITTS, }
+            }_Serjeants_.
+    DONNER,}
+
+          _Page, Drawer, &c._
+
+    LADY HONOUR ,}          {_Maid_,
+    LADY PERFECT,} _called_ {_Wife_.
+    LADY BRIGHT, }          {_Widow_.
+
+    GRACE SELDOM.
+
+    MOLL CUT-PURSE.
+
+  [71] Neither of the old editions has a list of characters prefixed.
+
+
+
+
+AMENDS FOR LADIES.
+
+ACT I., SCENE 1.
+
+
+_Enter the_ LADY HONOUR, _the_ LADY PERFECT, _the_ LADY BRIGHT.
+
+    MAID.[72] A wife the happiest state? It cannot be.
+
+    WIFE. Yes, such a wife as I, that have a man
+    As if myself had made him: such a one
+    As I may justly say, I am the rib
+    Belonging to his breast. Widow and maid,
+    Your lives compared to mine are miserable,
+    Though wealth and beauty meet in each of you.
+    Poor virgin, all thy sport is thought of love
+    And meditation of a man; the time
+    And circumstance, ere thou canst fix thy thoughts
+    On one thy fancy will approve.
+
+    MAID. That trouble
+    Already may be pass'd.
+
+    WIFE. Why, if it be,
+    The doubt he will not hold his brittle faith,
+    That he is not a competible choice,
+    And so your noble friends will cross the match,
+    Doth make your happiness uncertain still;
+    Or say, you married him? what he would prove.
+    Can you compare your state, then, to a wife?
+
+    MAID. Nay, all the freedom that a virgin hath
+    Is much to be preferr'd. Who would endure
+    The humours of so insolent[73] a thing
+    As is a husband? Which of all the herd
+    Runs not possess'd with some notorious vice,
+    Drinking or whoring, fighting, jealousy,
+    Even of a page at twelve or of a groom
+    That rubs horse-heels? Is it not daily seen,
+    Men take wives but to dress their meat, to wash
+    And starch their linen: for the other matter
+    Of lying with them, that's but when they please:
+    And whatsoe'er the joy be of the bed,
+    The pangs that follow procreation
+    Are hideous, or you wives have gull'd your husbands
+    With your loud shriekings and your deathful throes.
+    A wife or widow to a virgin's life!
+
+    WID. Why should the best of you think ye enjoy
+    The roost[74] and rule, that a free widow doth?
+    I am mine own commander, and the bliss
+    Of wooers and of each variety
+    Frequents me, as I were a maid. No brother
+    Have I to dice my patrimony away, as you,
+    My maiden-madam, may. No husband's death
+    Stand I in doubt on; for thanks be to heaven,
+    If mine were good, the grievous loss of him
+    Is not to come; if he were bad, he's gone,
+    And I no more embrace my injury.
+    But be yours ill, you nightly clasp your hate;
+    Or good--why, he may die or change his virtue.
+    And thou, though single, hast a bed-fellow
+    As bad as the worst husband--thought of one;
+    And what that is men with their wives do do,
+    And long expectance till the deed be done.
+    A wife is like a garment us'd and torn:
+    A maid like one made up, but never worn.
+
+    MAID. A widow is a garment worn threadbare,
+    Selling at second-hand, like broker's ware.
+    But let us speak of things the present time
+    Makes happy to us, and see what is best.
+    I have a servant then, the crown of men,
+    The fountain of humanity, the prize
+    Of every virtue, moral and divine;
+    Young, valiant, learned, well-born, rich, and shap'd,
+    As if wise Nature, when she fashion'd him,
+    Had meant to give him nothing but his form;
+    Yet all additions are conferr'd on him,
+    That may delight a woman: this same youth
+    To me hath sacrific'd his heart, yet I
+    Have check'd his suit, laugh'd at his worthy service,
+    Made him the exercise of my cruelty,
+    Whilst constant as the sun, for all these clouds,
+    His love goes on.
+
+_Enter_ INGEN.
+
+    WID. Peace, here's the man you name.
+
+    WIFE. Widow, we'll stand aside.
+
+    INGEN. Good morrow to the glory of our age,
+    The Lady Perfect and the Lady Bright,
+                                [_Meeting the Wife and Widow._[75]
+    The virtuous wife and widow; but to you,
+    The Lady Honour and my mistress,
+    The happiness of your wishes.
+
+    MAID. By this light,
+    I never heard one speak so scurvily,
+    Utter such stale wit, and pronounce so ill.
+    "But to you, my Lady Honour and my mistress,
+    The happiness of your wishes!"
+
+    INGEN. Stop your wit;
+    You would fain show these ladies, what a hand
+    You hold over your servant: 't shall not need;
+    I will express your tyranny well enough,
+    I have lov'd this lady since I was a child,
+    Since I could construe _Amo:_ now she says
+    I do not love her, 'cause I do not weep,
+    Lay mine arms o'er my heart, and wear no garters,
+    Walk with mine eyes in my hat, sigh and make faces
+    For all the poets in the town to laugh at.
+    Pox o' this howling love! 'tis like a dog
+    Shut out at midnight. Must love needs be powder'd,
+    Lie steep'd in brine, or will it not keep sweet?
+    Is it like beef in summer?
+
+    MAID. Did you ever
+    Hear one talk fustian like a butcher thus?
+
+    INGEN. 'Tis foolish, this same telling folks we love:
+    It needs no words, 'twill show itself in deeds;
+    And did I take you for an entertainer,
+    A lady that will wring one by the finger,
+    Whilst on another's toes she treads, and cries
+    "By gad, I love but one, and you are he,"
+    Either of them thinking himself the man,
+    I'd tell you in your ear, put for the business,
+    Which granted or denied, "Madam, God be wi' ye."
+
+    MAID. Come, these are daily slanders that you raise
+    On our infirm and unresisting sex:
+    You never met, I'm sure, with such a lady.
+
+    INGEN. O, many, by this light. I've seen a chamber
+    Frequented like an office of the law:
+    Clients succeed at midnight one another,
+    Whilst the poor madam hath been so distress'd
+    Which of her lovers to show most countenance to,
+    That her dull husband has perceiv'd her wiles.
+
+    MAID. Nay, perhaps taught her: many of those husbands
+    Are base enough to live upon't.
+
+    INGEN. I have seen another of 'em
+    Cheat, by this light, at cards, and set her women
+    To talk to the gentlemen that play'd,
+    That, so distracted, they might oversee.
+
+    MAID. O, fie upon ye! I dare swear you lie.
+
+    INGEN. Do not, fair mistress; you will be forsworn.
+
+    MAID. You men are all foul-mouth'd: I warrant, you
+    Talk thus of me and other ladies here
+    Because we keep the city.
+
+    INGEN. O, profane!
+    That thought would damn me. Will you marry yet?
+
+    MAID. No, I will never marry.
+
+    INGEN. Shall we then
+    Couple unlawfully? for indeed this marrying
+    Is but proclaiming what we mean to do;
+    Which may be done privately in civil sort,
+    And none the wiser; and by this white hand,
+    The rack, strappado, or the boiling boot[76]
+    Should never force me tell to wrong your honour.
+
+    MAID. May I believe this?
+
+    INGEN. Let it be your creed.
+
+    MAID. But if you should prove false? Nay, ne'er unhang
+    Your sword, except you mean to hang yourself.
+    Why, where have you been drinking? 'sfoot, you talk
+    Like one of these same rambling boys that reign
+    In Turnbull Street.[77]
+
+    INGEN. How do you know?
+
+    MAID. Indeed, my knowledge is but speculative,
+    Not practic there; I have it by relation
+    From such observers as yourself, dear servant.
+    I must profess I did think well of thee,
+    But get thee from my sight, I never more
+    Will hear or see thee, but will hate thee deadly,
+    As a man-enemy, or a woman turn'd.
+    Ladies, come forth.
+
+_Enter_ WIDOW, WIFE.
+
+    See, sir, what courtesy
+    You have done to me: a strange praise of you
+    Had newly left my lips just as you enter'd,
+    And how you have deserv'd it with your carriage!
+    Villain! thou hast hurt mine honour to these friends,
+    For what can they imagine but some ill
+    Hath pass'd betwixt us by thy broad discourse?
+    Were my case theirs, by virgin chastity,
+    I should condemn them. Hence! depart my sight!
+
+    INGEN. Madam, but hear me. O, that these were men,
+    And durst but say or think you ill for this!
+    I have so good a cause upon my side
+    That I would cut their hearts out of their breasts,
+    And the thoughts out of them that injur'd you.
+    But I obey your hest, and for my penance
+    Will run a course never to see you more:
+    And now I lose you, may I lose the light,
+    Since in that beauty dwelt my day or night.     [_Exit_ INGEN.
+
+    WID. Is this the virtuous youth?
+
+    WIFE. Your happiness?
+
+    WID. Wherein you thought your seat so far[78] 'bove ours.
+
+    MAID. If one man could be good, this had been he.
+    See, here come all your suitors and your husband;
+    And, room for laughter! here's the Lord Feesimple.
+    What gentlewoman does he bring along?
+
+_Enter_ HUSBAND, _embracing_ SUBTLE; _the_ LORD FEESIMPLE, _with young_
+BOLD _like a waiting gentlewoman, and_ WELLTRIED. WELLTRIED, HUSBAND,
+_and_ SUBTLE, _talk with_ WIFE.
+
+FEE. One-and-thirty good morrows to the fairest, wisest, richest widow
+that ever conversation coped withal.
+
+    WID. Threescore and two unto the wisest lord
+    That ever was train'd in university.
+
+FEE. O courteous, bounteous widow! she has outbid me thirty-one good
+morrows at a clap.
+
+WELL. But, my Lord Feesimple, you forget the business imposed on you.
+
+FEE. Gentlewoman, I cry thee mercy; but 'tis a fault in all lords, not
+in me only: we do use to swear by our honours, and as we are noble, to
+despatch such a business for such a gentleman; and we are bound, even by
+the same honours we swear by, to forget it in a quarter of an hour, and
+look as if we had never seen the party when we meet next, especially if
+none of our gentlemen have been considered.
+
+WELL. Ay, but all yours have, for you keep none, my lord: besides,
+though it stands with your honour to forget men's businesses, yet it
+stands not with your honour if you do not do a woman's.
+
+FEE. Why then, madam, so it is that I request your ladyship to accept
+into your service this gentlewoman. For her truth and honesty I will be
+bound; I have known her too long to be deceived. This is the second time
+I have seen her. [_Aside._]
+
+MAID. Why, how now, my lord! a preferrer of gentlewomen to service, like
+an old knitting-woman? where hath she dwelt before?
+
+FEE. She dwelt with young Bold's sister, he that is my corrival in your
+love. She requested me to advance her to you, for you are a dubbed lady;
+so is not she yet.
+
+WELL. But now you talk of young Bold--when did you see him, lady?
+
+    WID. Not this month, Master Welltried.
+    I did conjure him to forbear my sight;
+    Indeed, swore if he came, I'd be denied.
+    But 'tis strange you should ask for him: ye two
+    Were wont never to be asunder.
+
+    WELL. Faith, madam, we never were together, but
+    We differ'd on some argument or other;
+    And doubting lest our discord might at length
+    Breed to some quarrel, I forbear him too.
+
+FEE. He quarrel? Bold? hang him, if he durst have quarrelled, the world
+knows he's within a mile of an oak has put him to't, and soundly. I
+never cared for him in my life, but to see his sister: he's an ass,
+pox! an arrant ass; for do you think any but an arrant ass would offer
+to come a-wooing where a lord attempts? He quarrel!--he dares not
+quarrel.
+
+    WELL. But he dares fight, my lord, upon my knowledge:
+    And rail no more, my lord, behind his back,
+    For if you do, my lord, blood must ensue.            [_Draws._
+
+    FEE. O, O, my honour dies! I am dead.               [_Swoons._
+
+    WELL. Ud's light, what's the matter? wring him by the nose.
+
+    WID. A pair of riding spurs, now, were worth gold.
+
+    MAID. Pins are as good. Prick him, prick him.
+
+    FEE. O, O!
+
+    WIFE. He's come again. Lift him up.
+
+    OMNES. How fares your lordship?
+
+    FEE. O friends, you have wrong'd my spirit to call it back:
+    I was ev'n in Elysium at rest.
+
+WELL. But why, sir, did you swoon?
+
+FEE. Well, though I die, Mister Welltried, before all these I do forgive
+you, because you were ignorant of my infirmity. O sir! is't not up yet?
+I die again! Put up, now, whilst I wink, or I do wink for ever.
+
+WELL. 'Tis up, my lord; ope your eyes: but I pray, tell me, is this
+antipathy 'twixt bright steel and you natural, or how grew it.
+
+FEE. I'll tell you, sir: anything bright and edged works thus strongly
+with me. Your hilts, now, I can handle as boldly, look you else.
+
+HUS.[79] Nay, never blame my lord, Master Well-tried, for I know a
+great many will swoon at the sight of a shoulder of mutton or a quarter
+of lamb. My lord may be excused, then, for a naked sword.
+
+WELL. This lord and this knight in dog-collars would make a fine brace
+of beagles.
+
+MAID. But, on my faith, 'twas mightily over-seen of your father, not to
+bring you up to foils--or if he had bound you 'prentice to a cutler or
+an ironmonger.
+
+FEE. Ha, pox! hang him, old gouty fool! He never brought me up to any
+lordly exercise, as fencing, dancing, tumbling, and such like; but,
+forsooth, I must write and read, and speak languages, and such base
+qualities, fit for none but gentlemen. Now, sir, would I tell him,
+"Father, you are a count, I am a lord. A pox o' writing and reading, and
+languages! Let me be brought up as I was born."
+
+SUB. But how, my lord, came you first not to endure the sight of steel?
+
+FEE. Why, I'll tell you, sir. When I was a child, an infant, an
+innocent[80]--
+
+MAID. 'Twas even now. [_Aside._]
+
+FEE. I being in the kitchen, in my lord my father's house, the cook was
+making minced pies: so, sir, I standing by the dresser, there lay a heap
+of plums. Here was he mincing: what did me I, sir, being a notable
+little witty coxcomb, but popped my hand just under his chopping-knife,
+to snatch some raisins, and so was cut o'er the hand, and never since
+could I endure the sight of any edge-tool.
+
+WID. Indeed, they are not fit for you, my lord. And now you are all so
+well satisfied in this matter, pray, ladies, how like you this my
+gentlewoman?
+
+MAID. In troth, madam, exceedingly well, I. If you be provided, pray,
+let me have her.
+
+WIFE. It should be my request, but that I am full.
+
+WID. What can you do? What's her name, my lord?
+
+FEE. Her name? I know not. What's her name, Master Welltried?
+
+WEL. Her name? 'Slid, tell my lady your name.
+
+BOLD. Mistress Mary Princox, forsooth.
+
+WID. Mistress Mary Princox. She has wit, I perceive that already.
+Methinks she speaks as if she were my lord's brood.
+
+BOLD. Brood, madam? 'Tis well known I am a gentlewoman. My father was a
+man of five hundred per annum, and he held something _in capite_ too.
+
+WEL. So does my lord something.
+
+FEE. Nay, by my troth, what I hold _in capite_ is worth little or
+nothing.
+
+BOLD. I have had apt breeding, however, my misfortune now makes me
+submit myself to service; but there is no ebb so low, but hath his tide
+again. When our days are at worst, they will mend in spite of the
+frowning destinies, for we cannot be lower than earth; and the same
+blind dame that hath cast her blear eyes hitherto upon my occasions may
+turn her wheel, and at last wind them up with her white hand to some
+pinnacle that prosperously may flourish in the sunshine of promotion.
+
+FEE. O mouth, full of agility! I would give twenty marks now to any
+person that could teach me to convey my tongue (_sans_ stumbling) with
+such dexterity to such a period. For her truth and her honesty I am
+bound before, but now I have heard her talk, for her wit I will be bound
+body and goods.
+
+WID. Ud's light, I will not leave her for my hood. I never met with one
+of these eloquent old gentlewomen before. What age are you, Mistress
+Mary Princox?
+
+BOLD. I will not lie, madam. I have numbered fifty-seven summers, and
+just so many winters have I passed.
+
+SUB. But they have not passed you; they lie frozen in your face.
+
+BOLD. Madam, if it shall please you to entertain me, so; if not, I
+desire you not to misconstrue my goodwill. There's no harm done; the
+door's as big as it was, and your ladyship's own wishes crown your
+beauty with content. As for these frumping gallants, let them do their
+worst. It is not in man's power to hurt me. 'Tis well known I come not
+to be scoffed. A woman may bear and bear, till her back burst. I am a
+poor gentlewoman, and since virtue hath nowadays no other companion but
+poverty, I set the hare's head unto the goose giblets, and what I want
+one way, I hope I shall be enabled to supply the other.
+
+FEE. An't please God, that thou wert not past children.
+
+WID. Is't even so, my lord? Nay, good Princox, do not cry. I do
+entertain you. How do you occupy? What can you use?
+
+BOLD. Anything fit to be put into the hands of a gentlewoman.
+
+WID. What are your qualities?
+
+BOLD. I can sleep on a low stool. If your ladyship be talking in the
+same room with any gentleman, I can read on a book, sing love-songs,
+look up at the loover light,[81] hear and be deaf, see and be blind, be
+ever dumb to your secrets, swear and equivocate, and whatsoever I spy,
+say the best.
+
+WID. O rare crone, how art thou endued! But why did Master Bold's sister
+put you away?
+
+BOLD. I beseech you, madam, to neglect that desire: though I know your
+ladyship's understanding to be sufficient to partake, or take in, the
+greatest secret can be imparted, yet----
+
+WID. Nay, prythee, tell the cause. Come, here's none but friends.
+
+BOLD. Faith, madam, heigho! I was (to confess truly) a little foolish in
+my last service to believe men's oaths, but I hope my example, though
+prejudicial to myself, will be beneficial to other young gentlewomen in
+service. My mistress's brother (the gentleman you named even now--Master
+Bold), having often attempted my honour, but finding it impregnable,
+vowed love and marriage to me at the last. I, a young thing and raw,
+being seduced, set my mind upon him, but friends contradicting the
+match, I fell into a grievous consumption; and upon my first recovery,
+lest the intended sacred ceremonies of nuptials should succeed, his
+sister, knowing this, thought it fit in her judgment we should be
+farther asunder, and so put me out of her service.
+
+    OMNES. Ha, ha, ha!
+
+    WID. God-a-mercy for this discovery, i' faith.
+    O man, what art thou when thy cock is up?
+    Come, will your lordship walk in? 'tis dinner-time.
+
+_Enter hastily_ SELDOM, _with papers on his arm_.
+
+OMNES. Who's this? who's this?
+
+MAID. This is our landlord, Master Seldom, an exceeding wise citizen, a
+very sufficient understanding man, and exceeding rich.
+
+OMNES. Miracles are not ceased.
+
+WID. Good morrow, landlord. Where have you been sweating?
+
+SEL. Good morrow to your honours: thrift is industrious. Your ladyship
+knows we will not stick to sweat for our pleasures: how much more ought
+we to sweat for our profits! I am come from Master Ingen this morning,
+who is married, or to be married; and though your ladyship did not
+honour his nuptials with your presence, he hath by me sent each of you a
+pair of gloves, and Grace Seldom, my wife, is not forgot. [_Exit._
+
+    OMNES. God give him joy, God give him joy.      [_Exeunt._[82]
+
+    MAID. Let all things most impossible change now!
+    O perjur'd man! oaths are but words, I see.
+    But wherefore should not we, that think we love
+    Upon full merit, that same worth once ceasing,
+    Surcease our love too, and find new desert?
+    Alas! we cannot; love's a pit which, when
+    We fall into, we ne'er get out again:
+    And this same horrid news which me assaults,
+    I would forget: love blanches blackest faults.
+    O, what path shall I tread for remedy
+    But darkest shades, where love with death doth lie!   [_Exit._
+
+_Manent_ HUSBAND, WIFE, SUBTLE.
+
+    WIFE. Sir, I have often heard my husband speak
+    Of your acquaintance.
+
+    HUS. Nay, my virtuous wife,
+    Had it been but acquaintance, this his absence
+    Had not appear'd so uncouth: but we two
+    Were school-fellows together, born and nurs'd,
+    Brought up, and liv'd since, like the Gemini:
+    Had but one suck: the tavern or the ordinary,
+    Ere I was married, that saw one of us
+    Without the other, said we walk'd by halves.
+    Where, dear--dear friend, have you been all this while?
+
+    SUB. O most sweet friend, the world's so vicious,
+    That had I with such familiarity
+    Frequented you, since you were married,
+    Possess'd and us'd your fortunes as before,
+    As in like manner you commanded mine,
+    The deprav'd thoughts of men would have proclaim'd
+    Some scandalous rumours from this love of ours,
+    As saying mine reflected on your lady;
+    And what a wound had that been to our souls,
+    When only friendship should have been the ground
+    To hurt her honour and your confident peace,
+    Spite of mine own approv'd integrity?
+
+    HUS. Wife, kiss him, bid him welcome: pox o' th' world!
+    Come, come, you shall not part from me in haste.
+    I do command thee use this gentleman
+    In all things like myself: if I should die,
+    I would bequeath him in my will to thee.[83]
+
+    WIFE. Sir, you are most welcome, and let scandalous tongues
+    No more deter you: I dare use you, sir,
+    With all the right belonging to a friend,
+    And what I dare, I dare let all men see.
+    My conscience, rather than men's thoughts, be free.
+
+    HUS. Will you look in? We'll follow you.         [_Exit_ WIFE.
+
+    Now, friend,
+    What think you of this lady?
+
+    SUB. Why, sweet friend,
+    That you are happy in her: she is fair,
+    Witty, and virtuous, and was rich to you.
+    Can there be an addition to a wife?
+
+    HUS. Yes, constancy; for 'tis not chastity
+    That lives remote, from all attempters free,
+    But there 'tis strong and pure, where all that woo
+    It doth resist,[84] and turns them virtuous too.
+    Therefore, dear friend, by this, love's masculine kiss,
+    By all our mutual engagements pass'd,
+    By all the hopes of amity to come,
+    Be you the settler of my jealous thoughts,
+    And make me kill my fond suspect of her
+    By assurance that she is loyal, otherwise
+    That she is false; and then, as she's past cure,
+    My soul shall ever after be past care.
+    That you are fittest for this enterprise,
+    You must needs understand; since, prove she true
+    In this your trial, you (my dearest friend).
+    Whom only rather than the world besides,
+    I would have satisfied of her virtue, shall see[85]
+    And best conceal my folly. Prove she weak,
+    'Tis better you should know't than any man,
+    Who can reform her, and do me no wrong.
+    Chemical metals, and bright gold itself,
+    By sight are not distinguish'd, but by th' test:
+    Thought makes good wives, but trial makes the best.
+    To the unskilful owner's eyes alike
+    The Bristow sparkles as the diamond,[86]
+    But by a lapidary the truth is found--
+    Come, you shall not deny me.
+
+    SUB. Do not wrong
+    So fair a wife, friend, and so virtuous,
+    Whose good name is a theme unto the world:
+    Make not a wound with searching, where was none.
+    Misfortune still such projects doth pursue;
+    He makes a false wife that suspects a true.
+    Yet since you so importune, give me leave
+    To ruminate awhile, and I will straight
+    Follow, and give you an answer.
+
+    HUS. You must do it.                                  [_Exit._
+
+    SUB. Assure yourself, dear coxcomb, I will do't,
+    Or strangely be denied. All's as I wish'd;
+    This was my aim, although I have seem'd strange.
+    I know this fellow now to be an ass,
+    A most unworthy husband, though in view
+    He bear himself thus fair; she knows this too,
+    Therefore the stronger are my hopes to gain her;
+    And, my dear friend, that will have your wife tried,
+    I'll try her first, then trust her, if I can;
+    And, as you said most wisely, I hope to be
+    Both touchstone to your wife and lapidary.            [_Exit._
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+  [72] The Lady Honour is called _Maid_, the Lady Perfect _Wife_, and
+  the Lady Bright _Widow_.
+
+  [73] The 2d edit. reads _excellent_ for _insolent_.
+
+  [74] Edits., _rest_.
+
+  [75] They retire soon afterwards, but the _exit_ is not marked.
+
+  [76] In his "Woman is a Weathercock," Field has already mentioned
+  these instruments of torture in conjunction with some others, and to a
+  similar import: what he here calls _the boiling boot_ he there terms
+  _the Scotch boot;_ but they were probably the same thing, in the one
+  case, hot oil or water supplying the place of wedges in the latter
+  instance.
+
+  [77] _Turnbull_ Street was sometimes spelt _Turnball_ Street, and
+  sometimes (as Field himself gives it in another part of this play)
+  _Turnbole_ Street. It was situated between Cow Cross and Clerkenwell
+  Green, and is celebrated by many of our old dramatists as the
+  residence of ruffians, thieves, and prostitutes. Its proper name was
+  _Turnmill_ Street. See Stow's "Survey," 1599, p. 12.
+
+  [78] The later copy spoils the measure by omitting the words _so far_.
+
+  [79] Elsewhere in this play he is merely called _Husband_, though
+  before this speech in the old copies _Knight_ is inserted. It
+  afterwards appears that such is his rank.
+
+  [80] The word _innocent_ was used of old sometimes as synonymous with
+  _fool_, as in the following passage--
+
+      "Nay, God forbid ye shoulde do so,
+      for he is but an _innocent_, lo,
+      In manner of a _fole_."
+
+  --"Int. of the Four Elements" [i. 42].
+
+  [81] _i.e._, Skylight, [See vol. viii. p. 320].
+
+  [82] That is, all but Lady Honour, Lady Perfect, the Husband, and
+  Subtle.
+
+  [83] Ought we not rather to read--
+
+      "I would bequeath _thee_ in my will to _him_?"
+
+  [84] The second 4º reads _consist_.
+
+  [85] [Old copies, _be_.]
+
+  [86] The second 4º has this line--
+
+      "The Bristow sparkles _are as_ diamond."
+
+  The meaning is evident.
+
+
+
+
+ACT II., SCENE 1.
+
+
+_Enter_ SELDOM _[and] his wife_ GRACE, _working as in their shop_.
+
+GRACE. Husband, these gloves are not fit for my wearing; I'll put 'em
+into the shop, and sell 'em: you shall give me a plain pair for them.
+
+SEL. This is wonderful, wonderful! this is thy sweet care and judgment
+in all things: this goodness is not usual in our wives. Well, Grace
+Seldom, that thou art fair is nothing, that thou art well-spoken is
+nothing, that thou art witty is nothing, that thou art a citizen's wife
+is nothing; but, Grace, that thou art fair, that thou art well-spoken,
+that thou art witty, that thou art a citizen's wife, and that thou art
+honest, I say--and let any man deny it that can, it is something, it is
+something; I say, it is Seldom's something, and for all the sunshine of
+my joy, mine eyes must rain upon thee.
+
+_Enter_ MOLL CUT-PURSE, _with a letter_.
+
+MOLL. By your leave, Master Seldom, have you done the hangers I bespake
+for the knight?
+
+SEL. Yes, marry have I, Mistress _hic_ and _hæc;_[87] I'll fetch 'em to
+you. [_Exit._
+
+MOLL. Zounds! does not your husband know my name? if it had been
+somebody else, I would have called him cuckoldy slave.
+
+GRACE. If it had been somebody else, perhaps you might.
+
+MOLL. Well, I may be even with him; all's clear. Pretty rogue, I have
+longed to know thee this twelve months, and had no other means but this
+to speak with thee. There's a letter to thee from the party.
+
+GRACE. What party?
+
+MOLL. The knight, Sir John Love-all.
+
+    GRACE. Hence, lewd impudent!
+    I know not what to term thee, man or woman,
+    For, Nature, shaming to acknowledge thee
+    For either, hath produc'd thee to the world
+    Without a sex: some say thou art a woman,
+    Others a man: and many, thou art both
+    Woman and man, but I think rather neither,
+    Or man and horse, as the old centaurs were feign'd.
+
+MOLL. Why, how now, Mistress What-lack-ye? are you so fine, with a pox?
+I have seen a woman look as modestly as you, and speak as sincerely, and
+follow the friars as zealously,[88] and she has been as sound a jumbler
+as e'er paid for't: 'tis true, Mistress Fi'penny, I have sworn to leave
+this letter.
+
+GRACE. D'ye hear, you Sword-and-target (to speak in your own key), Mary
+Ambree, Long Meg.[89]
+
+    Thou that in thyself, methinks, alone
+    Look'st like a rogue and whore under a hedge;
+    Bawd, take your letter with you, and begone,
+    When next you come, my husband's constable,
+    And Bridewell is hard by: you've a good wit,
+    And can conceive----
+
+_Enter_ SELDOM, _with hangers_.
+
+    SEL. Look you, here are the hangers.
+
+    MOLL. Let's see them.
+    Fie, fie! you have mistook me quite,
+    They are not for my turn. B'w'ye, Mistress Seldom.    [_Exit._
+
+_Enter_ LORD PROUDLY.
+
+    GRACE. Here's my Lord Proudly.
+
+    PROUDLY. My horse, lackey! is my sister Honour above?
+
+    SEL. I think her ladyship, my lord, is not well, and keeps her
+      chamber.
+
+    PROUDLY. All's one, I must see her: have the other ladies dined?
+
+    GRACE. I think not, my lord.
+
+PROUDLY. Then I'll take a pipe of tobacco here in your shop, if it be
+not offensive. I would be loth to be thought to come just at
+dinner-time. [_To his servant_] Garçon! fill, sirrah.
+
+_Enter_ PAGE, _with a pipe of tobacco_.
+
+What said the goldsmith for the money?
+
+         [SELDOM, _having fetched a candle, walks off at the other
+          end of the shop_. LORD PROUDLY _sits by his wife_.
+
+PAGE. He said, my lord, he would lend no man money that he durst not
+arrest.
+
+    PROUDLY. How got that wit into Cheapside, trow? He is a cuckold. Saw
+    you my lady to-day? hat says she?            [_Takes tobacco._
+
+PAGE. Marry, my lord, she said her old husband had a great payment to
+make this morning, and had not left her so much as a jewel.
+
+    PROUDLY. A pox of her old cat's chaps! The teeth she had
+    Have made a transmigration into hair:
+    She hath a bigger beard than I, by this light.
+                                        [LORD _whispers to_ GRACE.
+
+    SEL. This custom in us citizens is good:
+    Thus walking off, when men talk with our wives;
+    It shows us courteous and mannerly.
+    Some count it baseness; he's a fool that does so.
+    It is the highest point of policy,
+    Especially when we have virtuous wives.
+
+    GRACE. Fie, fie! you talk uncivilly, my lord.
+
+PROUDLY. Uncivilly, mew! Can a lord talk uncivilly? I think you, a
+finical taffata pipkin, may be proud I'll sit so near it. Uncivilly,
+mew!
+
+GRACE. Your mother's cat has kittened in your mouth, sure.
+
+PROUDLY. Prythee, but note yon fellow. Does he not walk and look as if
+he did desire to be a cuckold?
+
+GRACE. But you do not look as if you could make him one. Now they have
+dined, my lord.
+
+_Enter_ LORD FEESIMPLE _and_ WELLTRIED.
+
+    FEE. God save your lordship.
+
+    PROUDLY. How dost thou, coz? Hast thou got any more wit yet?
+
+    FEE. No, by my troth, I have
+    But little money with that little wit I have,
+    And the more wit ever the less money;
+    Yet as little as I have of either,
+    I would give something that I durst but quarrel:
+    I would not be abus'd thus daily as I am.
+
+    WELL. Save you, my lord.
+
+PROUDLY. Good Master Welltried, you can inform me: pray, how ended the
+quarrel betwixt young Bold and the other gentleman?
+
+WELL. Why, very fairly, my lord; on honourable terms. Young Bold was
+injured and did challenge him, fought in the field, and the other gave
+him satisfaction under his hand. I was Bold's second, and can show it
+here.
+
+    PROUDLY. 'Tis strange there was no hurt done, yet I hold
+    The other gentleman far the better man.
+
+    WELL. So do not I.
+
+PROUDLY. Besides, they say the satisfaction that walks in the ordinaries
+is counterfeit.
+
+    WELL. He lies that say so, and I'll make it good.
+    And for I know my friend is out of town,
+    What man soever wrongs him is my foe.
+    I say he had full satisfaction,
+    Nay, that which we may call submission;
+    That the other sought peace first; and who denies this,
+    Lord, knight or gentleman: English, French or Scot,
+    I'll fight and prove it on him with my sword.
+
+FEE. No, sweet Master Welltried, let's have no fighting, till (as you
+have promised) you have rid me from this foolish fear, and taught me to
+endure to look upon a naked sword.
+
+WELL. Well, and I'll be as good as my word.
+
+FEE. But do you hear, cousin Proudly? They say my old father must marry
+your sister Honour, and that he will disinherit me, and entail all his
+lordships on her and the heir he shall beget on her body. Is't true or
+not?
+
+    PROUDLY. There is such a report.
+
+    FEE. Why, then I pray God he may die an old cuckoldy slave.
+    O world, what art thou? where is parent's love?
+    Can he deny me for his natural child?
+    Yet see (O fornicator!) old and stiff,
+    Not where he should be, that's my comfort yet.
+    As for you, my lord, I will send to you as soon as
+    I dare fight, and look upon steel; which, Master
+    Welltried (I pray) let be with all possible speed.
+
+    PROUDLY. What d'ye this afternoon?
+
+FEE. Faith, I have a great mind to see Long Meg and the Ship at the
+Fortune.[90]
+
+PROUDLY. Nay, i' faith, let's up and have a rest at primero.
+
+WELL. Agreed, my lord; and toward the evening I'll carry you to the
+company.
+
+    FEE. Well, no more words.
+      [_Exeunt_ LORD PROUDLY, LORD FEESIMPLE, _and_ WELLTRIED.[91]
+
+GRACE. I wonder, sir, you will walk so, and let anybody sit prating to
+your wife. Were I a man, I'd thrust 'em out o' th' shop by the head and
+shoulders.
+
+SEL. There were no policy in that, wife; so should I lose my custom. Let
+them talk themselves weary, and give thee love-tokens--still I lose not
+by it.
+
+    Thy chastity's impregnable, I know it.
+    Had I a dame, whose eyes did swallow youth,
+    Whose unchaste gulf together did take in
+    Masters and men, the footboys and their lords,
+    Making a gallimaufry in her blood,
+    I would not walk thus then: but, virtuous wife,
+    He that in chaste ears pours his ribald talk
+    Begets hate to himself, and not consent;
+    And even as dirt, thrown hard against a wall,
+    Rebounds and sparkles in the thrower's eyes,
+    So ill words, utter'd to a virtuous dame,
+    Turn and defile the speaker with red shame.         [_Exeunt._
+
+
+SCENE II.
+
+_Enter_ HUSBAND _and_ WIFE.
+
+    HUS. Zounds! you're a whore; though I entreat him fair
+    Before his face, in compliment or so,
+    I not esteem him truly as this rush.
+    There's no such thing as friendship in the world,
+    And he that cannot swear, dissemble, lie,
+    Wants knowledge how to live, and let him die.
+
+    WIFE. Sir, I did think you had esteem'd of him,
+    As you made show; therefore I us'd him well,
+    And yet not so, but that the strictest eye
+    I durst have made a witness of my carriage.
+
+    HUS. Plague o' your carriage! why, he kiss'd your hand,
+    Look'd babies in your eyes, and wink'd and pink'd.
+    You thought I had esteem'd him! 'Sblood. you whore!
+    Do not I know that you do know you lie?
+    When didst thou hear me say and mean one thing?
+    O, I could kick you now, and tear your face,
+    And eat thy breasts like udders.
+
+    WIFE. Sir, you may,
+    But if I know what hath deserv'd all this,
+    I am no woman: 'cause he kiss'd my hand
+    Unwillingly?
+
+    HUS. A little louder, pray.
+
+    WIFE. You are a base fellow, an unworthy man,
+    As e'er poor gentlewoman match'd withal.
+    Why should you make such show of love to any
+    Without the truth? thy beastly mind is like
+    Some decay'd tradesman, that doth make his wife
+    Entertain those for gain he not endures.
+    Pish! swell and burst: I had rather with thy sword
+    Be hew'd to pieces, than lead such a life.
+    Out with it, valiant sir: I hold you for
+    A drawer upon women, not on men.
+    I will no more conceal your hollow heart,
+    But e'en report you as you are in truth.
+
+    HUS. This is call'd marriage. Stop your mouth, you whore.
+
+    WIFE. Thy mother was a whore, if I be one.
+
+    HUS. You know there's company in the house.
+
+_Enter_ SUBTLE.
+
+    Sweet friend, what, have you writ your letter?
+
+    SUB. Tis done, dear friend: I have made you stay too long;
+    I fear you'll be benighted.
+
+    HUS. Fie! no, no.
+    Madam and sweetest wife, farewell; God bless us.
+    Make much of Master Subtle here, my friend,     [_Kisses her._
+    Till my return, which may be ev'n as't happens,
+    According as my business hath success.                [_Exit._
+
+    SUB. How will you pass the time now, fairest mistress?
+
+    WIFE. In troth, I know not: wives without their husbands,
+    Methinks, are low'ring days.
+
+    SUB. Indeed, some wives
+    Are like dead bodies in their husbands' absence.
+
+    WIFE. If any wife be, I must needs be so,
+    That have a husband far above all men;
+    Untainted with the humours others have,
+    A perfect man, and one that loves you truly:
+    You see the charge he left of your good usage.
+
+    SUB. Pish! he's an ass, I know him; a stark ass,
+    Of a most barbarous condition,
+    False-hearted to his friend, rough unto you;
+    A most dissembling and perfidious fellow.
+    I care not if he heard me: this I know,
+    And will make good upon him with my sword,
+    Or any for him--for he will not fight.
+
+    WIFE. Fie, servant! you show small civility
+    And less humanity: d'ye requite
+    My husband's love thus ill? for what d'ye think
+    Of me, that you will utter to my face
+    Such harsh, unfriendly, slanderous injuries
+    Even of my husband? Sir, forbear, I pray,
+    My ears or your own tongue: I am no house-wife
+    To hear my husband's merit thus deprav'd.
+
+    SUB. His merit is a halter, by this light.
+    You think he's out of town now; no such matter:
+    But gone aside, and hath importun'd me
+    To try your chastity.
+
+    WIFE. It cannot be.
+    Alas! he is as free from jealousy,
+    And ever was, as confidence itself.
+    I know he loves me too-too heartily
+    To be suspicious, or to prove my truth.
+
+    SUB. If I do feign in ought, ne'er may I purchase
+    The grace I hope for! and, fair mistress,
+    If you have any spirit, or wit, or sense,
+    You will be even with such a wretched slave.
+    Heaven knows I love you as the air I draw!
+    Think but how finely you may cuckold him,
+    And safely, too, with me, who will report
+    To him, that you are most invincible,
+    Your chastity not to be subdu'd by man.
+
+    WIFE. When you know I'm a whore?
+
+    SUB. A whore? fie! no;
+    That you have been kind, or so: your whore doth live
+    In Pickt-hatch,[92] Turnbull Street.
+
+    WIFE. Your whore lives there! [_Aside._]
+    Well, servant, leave me to myself awhile:
+    Return anon; but bear this hope away,
+    'T shall be with you, if I at all do stray.    [_Exit_ SUBTLE.
+    Why, here's right wordly[93] friendship! ye're well-met.
+    O men! what are you? why is our poor sex
+    Still made the disgrac'd subjects in these plays
+    For vices, folly, and inconstancy:
+    When, were men look'd into with such critical eyes
+    Of observation, many would be found
+    So full of gross and base corruption,
+    That none (unless the devil himself turn'd writer)
+    Could feign so badly to express them truly?
+    Some wives that had a husband now, like mine,
+    Would yield their honours up to any man:
+    Far be it from my thoughts! O, let me stand,
+    Thou God of marriage and chastity,
+    An honour to my sex! no injury
+    Compel the virtue of my breast to yield!
+    It's not revenge for any wife to stain
+    The nuptial bed, although she be yok'd ill.
+    Who falls, because her husband so hath done,
+    Cures not his wound, but in herself makes one.   [_Exit_ WIFE.
+
+
+SCENE III.
+
+_Enter_ INGEN, _reading a letter; sits down in a chair, and stamps with
+his foot; to him a_ SERVANT.
+
+    INGEN. Who brought this letter?
+
+    SER. A little Irish footboy, sir:
+    He stays without for an answer.
+
+    INGEN. Bid him come in. Lord!
+    What deep dissemblers are these females all.
+    How far unlike a friend this lady us'd me,
+    And here how like one mad in love she writes.
+
+_Enter_ MAID, _like an Irish footboy, with a dart,[94] gloves in her
+pocket, and a handkerchief_.
+
+    So bless me, heaven, but thou art the prettiest boy
+    That e'er ran by a horse! hast thou dwelt long
+    With thy fair mistress?
+
+    MAID. I came but this morning, sir.
+
+    INGEN. How fares thy lady, boy?
+
+    MAID. Like to a turtle that hath lost her mate,
+    Drooping she sits; her grief, sir, cannot speak.
+    Had it a voice articulate, we should know
+    How and for what cause she suffers; and perhaps--
+    But 'tis unlikely--give her comfort, sir.
+    Weeping she sits, and all the sound comes from her
+    Is like the murmur of a silver brook,
+    Which her tears truly would make there about her,
+    Sat she in any hollow continent.
+
+    INGEN. Believe me, boy, thou hast a passionate tongue,
+    Lively expression, or thy memory
+    Hath carried thy lesson well away.
+    But wherefore mourns thy lady?
+
+    MAID. Sir, you know,
+    And would to God I did not know myself!
+
+    INGEN. Alas! it cannot be for love to me.
+    When last I saw her, she revil'd me, boy,
+    With bitterest words, and wish'd me never more
+    To approach her sight; and for my marriage now
+    I do sustain it as a penance due
+    To the desert that made her banish me.
+
+    MAID. Sir, I dare swear, she did presume no words,
+    Nor dangers had been powerful to restrain
+    Your coming to her, when she gave the charge--
+    But are you married truly?
+
+    INGEN. Why, my boy,
+    Dost think I mock myself? I sent her gloves.
+
+    MAID. The gloves she has return'd you, sir, by me,
+    And prays you give them to some other lady,
+    That you'll deceive next, and be perjured to.
+    Sure, you have wrong'd her: sir, she bad me tell you,
+    She ne'er thought goodness dwelt in many men,
+    But what there was of goodness in the world,
+    She thought you had it all; but now she sees
+    The jewel she esteem'd is counterfeit;
+    That you are but a common man yourself--
+    A traitor to her and her virtuous love;
+    That all men are betrayers, and their breasts
+    As full of dangerous gulfs as is the sea,
+    Where any woman, thinking to find harbour,
+    She and her honour are precipitated,
+    And never to be brought with safety off.
+    Alas, my hapless lady desolate!
+    Distress'd, forsaken virgin!
+
+    INGEN. Sure, this boy
+    Is of an excellent nature who, so newly
+    Ta'en to her service, feels his mistress' grief,
+    As he and they were old familiar friends.
+    Why weep'st thou, gentle lad?
+
+    MAID. Who hath one tear,
+    And would not save't from all occasions,
+    From brothers' slaughters and from mothers' deaths,
+    To spend it here for my distressed lady?
+    But, sir, my lady did command me beg
+    To see your wife, that I may bear to her
+    The sad report. What creature could make you
+    Untie the hand fast pledged unto her?
+
+    INGEN. Wife, wife, come forth! now, gentle boy, be judge,
+
+_Enter_ INGEN'S BROTHER, _like a woman, masked_. INGEN _kisses her_.
+
+    If such a face as this, being paid with scorn
+    By her I did adore, had not full power
+    To make me marry.
+
+    MAID. By the God of love,
+    She's a fair creature, but faith, should be fairer.
+    My lady, gentle mistress, one that thought
+    She had some interest in this gentleman,
+    (Who now is only yours) commanded me
+    To kiss your white hand, and to sigh and weep,
+    And wish you that content she should have had
+    In the fruition of her love you hold.
+    She bad me say, God give you joy, to both;
+    Yet this withal (if ye were married):
+    No one her footsteps ever more should meet,
+    Nor see her face but in a winding-sheet.
+
+    BRO. Alas, poor lady! faith, I pity her,
+    And, but to be i' th' same state, could forego
+    Anything I possess to ease her woe.
+
+    MAID. Love's blessing light upon thy gentle soul!
+    Men rail at women, mistress, but 'tis we
+    Are false and cruel, ten times more unkind;
+    You are smoother far and of a softer mind.
+    Sir, I have one request more.
+
+    INGEN. Gentle lad,
+    It must be one of a strange quality
+    That I deny thee: both thy form and mind
+    Inform me that thy nurture hath been better,
+    Than to betray thee to this present life.
+
+    MAID. 'Tis, that you would vouchsafe to entertain me.
+    My feet do tremble under me to bear
+    My body back unto my uncouth lady,
+    To assure her grief. What heart so hard would owe
+    A tongue to tell so sad a tale to her?
+    Alas! I dare not look upon her eyes,
+    Where wronged love sits like the basilisk.
+    And, sure, would kill me for my dire report:
+    Or rather should not I appear like death,
+                                           [_Holding up his dart._
+    When every word I spake shot through her heart
+    More mortally than his unsparing dart.
+
+    BRO. Let me speak for the boy.
+
+    INGEN. To what end, love?
+    No, I will sue to him to follow me.
+    In troth, I love thy sweet condition,
+    And may live to inform thy lady of thee.
+    Come in; dry, dry thine eyes, respite thy woe;
+    The effects of causes[95] crown or overthrow.
+
+
+SCENE IV.
+
+_Enter_ LORD PROUDLY, LORD FEESIMPLE, WELLTRIED, SELDOM, WIDOW, BOLD
+_pinning in a ruff_, WIFE.
+
+    PROUDLY. 'Slight, what should be become of her? you swear
+    She pass'd not forth of doors, and i' th' house she is not?
+
+    WID. Did you not see her, Princox?
+
+    PROUDLY. This same bawd
+    Has brought her letters from some younger brother,
+    And she is stolen away.
+
+    BOLD. Bawd! I defy you.
+    Indeed, your lordship thinks you may make bawds
+    Of whom you please. I'll take my oath upon a book,
+    Since I met her in the necessary house i' th' morning,
+    I ne'er set eye on her.
+
+GRACE. She went not out of doors.
+
+PROUDLY. Sure, she has an invisible ring.
+
+FEE. Marry, she's the honester woman, for some of their rings are
+visible enough, the more shame for them, still say I. Let the pond at
+Islington be searched: go to, there's more have drowned themselves for
+love this year than you are aware of.
+
+PROUDLY. Pish! you are a fool.
+
+WELL. 'Sheart! call him fool again.
+
+FEE. By this light, and I will, as soon as ever you have showed me the
+Swaggerers.[96]
+
+WIFE. Her clothes are all yonder, my lord.
+
+GRACE. And even those same she had on to-day.
+
+PROUDLY. Madam, where is your husband?
+
+WIFE. Rid into the country.
+
+FEE. O' my conscience, rid into France with your sister.
+
+OMNES. Away, away; for shame!
+
+FEE. Why, I hope she is not the first lady that has ran away with other
+women's husbands.
+
+WELL. It may be she's stolen out to see a play.
+
+PROUDLY. Who should go with her, man?
+
+WID. Upon my life, you'll hear of her at Master Ingen's house: some
+love pass'd betwixt them, and we heard that he was married to-day to
+another.
+
+  PROUDLY. 'Sheart! I'll go see.             [_Exit_ LORD PROUDLY.
+
+WELL. Come to the Swaggerers.
+
+FEE. Mercy upon me! a man or a--Lord now?
+
+                              [_Exeunt_ LORD FEESIMPLE, WELLTRIED.
+
+OMNES. Here's a coil with a lord and his sister.
+
+WID. Princox, hast not thou pinned in that ruff yet? ha! how thou
+fumblest!
+
+BOLD. Troth, madam, I was ne'er brought up to it; 'tis chambermaid's
+work, and I have ever lived gentlewoman, and been used accordingly.
+
+                                                        [_Exeunt._
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+  [87] In reference to her female sex and male attire.
+
+  [88] These words contain an allusion to Blackfriars as a common
+  residence of the Puritans. The Widow subsequently refers to the same
+  circumstance, when in act iii. she asks Bold: "Precise and learned
+  Princox, dost thou not go to Blackfriars." That Blackfriars, although
+  the play-house was there, was crowded with Puritans may be proved by
+  many authorities.
+
+  [89] Two celebrated English heroines. The achievements of Mary Ambree
+  at the siege of Ghent, in 1584, are celebrated in a ballad which goes
+  by her name in Percy's "Reliques," ii. 239, edit. 1812. She is
+  mentioned by Fletcher, Ben Jonson, and many other dramatists; some of
+  whom were her contemporaries. Dr Percy conjectured that the "English
+  Mall" of Butler was the same female soldier, but he probably alluded
+  to Mall or Moll Cut-purse who forms a character in this play. Long Meg
+  is Long Meg of Westminster, also a masculine lady of great notoriety,
+  and after whom a cannon in Dover Castle, and a large flagstone in the
+  cloisters of Westminster Abbey are still called. Her life and "merry
+  pranks" were detailed in a pamphlet dated in [1582], and reprinted
+  [from a later edition] in 1816. It is conjectured that she was dead in
+  1594, but she is often spoken of in our old writers. It will be seen
+  by a subsequent note that Long Meg was the heroine of a play which has
+  not survived.
+
+  [90] It is tolerably evident that two plays (one called "Long Meg,"
+  and the other "The Ship"), and not one with a double title, are here
+  intended to be spoken of. This may seem to disprove Malone's assertion
+  ("Shakespeare" by Boswell, iii. 304), that only one piece was
+  represented on one day. By Henslowe's Diary it appears that "Longe
+  Mege of Westminster" was performed at Newington in February 1594, and,
+  according to Field, it must have continued for some time popular.
+  Nothing is known of a dramatic piece of that date called "The Ship."
+  It may have been only a jig, often given at the conclusion of plays.
+  [Compare p. 136.]
+
+  [91] The second edition misprints this stage direction, _Enter Lord_.
+
+  [92] A noted and often-mentioned purlieu, the resort and residence of
+  prostitutes, &c. See "Merry Wives of Windsor," act i. sc. 2, where
+  enough, and more than enough, is said upon the subject. Turnbull
+  Street has been already mentioned.
+
+  [93] [_i.e._, Worldly.]
+
+  [94] It seems to have been the custom to employ the Irish as lackeys
+  or footmen at this period. R. Brathwaite, in his "Time's Curtaine
+  Drawne," 1621, speaking of the attendants of a courtier, mentions "two
+  _Irish_ lacquies" as among them. The _dart_ which, according to this
+  play, and Middleton and Rowley's "Faire Quarrel" (edit. 1622), they
+  carried, was perhaps intended as an indication of the country from
+  which they came, as being part of the accoutrements of the native
+  Irish: thus, in the description of the dumb show preceding act ii. of
+  "The Misfortunes of Arthur," we find the following passage: "After
+  which there came a man bareheaded with long black shagged hair down to
+  his shoulders, apparaled with an Irish jacket and shirt, having an
+  Irish dagger by his side and a _dart_ in his hand" [iv. 279]. The
+  _shirt_ in our day seldom forms part of the dress of the resident
+  Irish. [George Richardson] wrote a tract called "The Irish Footman ['s
+  Poetry," 1641, in defence of Taylor the Water-poet.]
+
+  [95] The second 4º has it _the effects of pauses_, which, if not
+  nonsense, is very like it.
+
+  [96] [_i.e._, The roaring boys, who are introduced a little later in
+  the play.]
+
+
+
+
+ACT III., SCENE 1.
+
+
+_Enter_ HUSBAND _and_ SUBTLE.
+
+    SUB. She's a rare wife, believe it, sir: were all such,
+    We never should have false inheritors.
+
+    HUS. Pish! friend, there is no woman in the world
+    Can hold out in the end, if youth, shape, wit,
+    Met in one subject, do assault her aptly;
+    For failing once, you must not faint, but try
+    Another way: the paths of women's minds
+    Are crooked and diverse; they have byways
+    To lead you to the palace of their pleasures,
+    And you must woo discreetly. First, observe
+    The disposition of her you attempt:
+    If she be spriteful and heroical,
+    Possess her that you are valiant, and have spirit:
+    Talk nothing but of beating every man,
+    That is your hinderance; though you do not do it,
+    Or dare not, 'tis no matter. Be she free
+    And of a liberal soul, give bounteously
+    To all the servants; let your angels fly
+    About the room, although you borrow'd 'em.
+    If she be witty, so must your discourse:
+    Get wit, what shift soe'er you make for it,
+    Though't cost you all your land; and then a song
+    Or two is not amiss, although you buy 'em:
+    There's many in the town will furnish you.
+
+    SUB. But still, I tell you, you must use her roughly.
+    Beat her face black and blue, take all her clothes,
+    And give them to some punk: this will be ground
+    For me to work upon.
+
+    HUS. All this I have done.
+    I have left her now as bare that, should I die,
+    Her fortune, o' my conscience, would be
+    To marry some tobacco-man: she has nothing
+    But an old black-work waistcoat, which would serve
+    Exceeding well to sit i' th' shop, and light
+    Pipes for the lousy footmen. And, sweet friend,
+    First here's a jewel to present her; then,
+    Here is a sonnet writ against myself,
+    Which as thine own thou shalt accost her with.
+    Farewell, and happy success attend thee!              [_Exit._
+
+    SUB. Ha, ha, ha!                                  [_He reads._
+      _Fairest, still wilt thou be true_
+      _To man so false to thee?_
+      _Did he lend a husband's due,_
+      _Thou didst owe him loyalty;_
+      _But will curses, wanton[97] blows_
+      _Breed no change in thy white soul?_
+      _Be not a fool to thy first vows,_
+      _Since his first breach doth thy faith control._
+      _No beauty else could be so chaste;_
+      _Think not thou honour'st woman then,_
+      _Since by thy conscience all disgrac'd_
+      _Are robb'd of the dear loves of men._
+      _Then grant me my desire, that vow to prove_
+      _A real husband, his adulterate love."_
+
+    Took ever man more pains to be a cuckold!
+    O monstrous age, where men themselves, we see,
+    Study and pay for their own infamy.
+
+
+SCENE II.
+
+_Enter_ INGEN, MAID, LORD PROUDLY, BROTHER _like a woman: swords drawn_.
+
+    PROUDLY. Give me my sister! I'll have her forth thy heart.
+
+    INGEN. No earthly lord can pull her out of that,
+    Till he have pluck'd my heart first out. My lord,
+    Were't not inhospitable, I could wrong you here
+    In my own house. I am so full of woe
+    For your lost sister, that by all my joys
+    Hoped for in her, my heart weeps tears of blood:
+    A whiter virgin and a worthier
+    Had ne'er creation; Leda's swan was black
+    To her virginity and immaculate thoughts.
+
+    PROUDLY. Where hast thou hid her? give her me again;
+    For, by the God of vengeance, be she lost,
+    The female hate shall spring betwixt our names
+    Shall never die, while one of either house
+    Survives: our children shall, at seven years old,
+    Strike knives in one another.
+
+    INGEN. Let hell gape
+    And take me quick, if I know where she is;
+    But am so charg'd with sorrow for her loss,
+    Being the cause of it (as no doubt I am),
+    That I had rather fall upon my sword
+                                      [_Offering to kill himself._
+    Than breathe a minute longer.
+
+    BRO. O sir! hold.
+
+    PROUDLY. Thou shalt not need; I have a sword to bathe
+    In thy false blood, inhumane murderer.
+
+    MAID. Good sir, be pacified: I'll go, I'll run
+    Many a mile to find your sister out.
+    She never was so desperate of grace
+    By violence to rob herself of life,
+    And so her soul endanger. Comfort, sir;
+    She's but retired somewhere, on my life.
+
+    INGEN. Prythee, let me alone--
+                                                [_To his brother._
+    Do I stand to defend that wretched life,
+    That is in doubt of hers? here, worthy lord,
+    Behold a breast fram'd of thy sister's love;
+    Hew it, for thou shalt strike but on a stock,
+    Since she is gone that was the cause it liv'd.
+
+    PROUDLY. Out, false dissembler! art not married?
+
+    INGEN. No; behold it is my younger brother dress'd;
+                                       [_Plucks of his head-tire._
+    A man, no woman, that hath gull'd the world,
+    Intended for a happier event
+    Than this that follow'd, that she now is gone.
+    O fond experiments of simple man!
+    Fool to thy fate, since all thy project, meant
+    But mirth, is now converted unto death.
+
+    MAID. O, do not burst me, joy! that modesty          [_Aside._
+    Would let me show myself to finish all!
+
+    PROUDLY. Nay, then thou hast my sister somewhere, villain!
+    'Tis plain now thou wilt steal thy marriage.
+    She is no match for thee, assure thyself.
+    If all the law in England or my friends
+    Can cross it, 't shall not be.
+
+    INGEN. Would 'twere so well,
+    And that I knew the lady to be safe!
+    Give me no ill-words. Sir, this boy and I
+    Will wander like two pilgrims till we find her.
+    If you do love her as you talk, do so:
+    The love or grief that is express'd in words,
+    Is slight and easy; 'tis but shallow woe
+    That makes a noise; deep'st waters stillest go.
+    I love her better than thy parents did,
+    Which is beyond a brother.
+
+    PROUDLY. Slave! thou liest.
+
+    INGEN. Zounds!                             [_About to strike._
+
+    BRO. Kill him!
+
+    MAID. O, hold! Sir, you dishonour much your brother
+    To counsel him 'gainst hospitality
+    To strike in his own house.
+
+    INGEN. You, lord insolent, I will fight with you:
+    Take this as a challenge, and set your time.
+
+    PROUDLY. To-morrow morning, Ingen;
+    'Tis that I covet, and provoke thee for.
+
+    BRO. Will you not strike him now?
+
+    INGEN. No; my good boy
+    Is both discreet and just in his advice.
+    Thy glories are to last but for a day:
+    Give me thy hand;
+    To-morrow morning thou shalt be no lord.
+
+    PROUDLY. To-morrow noon thou shalt not be at all.
+
+    INGEN. Pish! why should you think so? have not I arms,
+    A soul as bold as yours, a sword as true?
+    I do not think your honour in the field,
+    Without your lordship's liveries, will have odds.
+
+    PROUDLY. Farewell, and let's have no excuses, pray.
+                                                  [_Exit_ PROUDLY.
+
+    INGEN. I warrant you. Pray, say your prayers to-night,
+    And bring an[98] inkhorn w' ye, to set your hand to
+    A satisfactory recantation.                           [_Exit._
+
+    MAID. O wretched maid! whose sword can I pray for?
+    But by the other's loss I must find death.
+    O odious brother, if he kill my love!
+    O bloody love, if he should kill my brother!
+    Despair on both sides of my discontent
+    Tells me no safety rests but to prevent.              [_Exit._
+
+
+SCENE III.
+
+_Enter_ WIDOW _and_ BOLD _like_ PRINCOX.
+
+    WID. What's o'clock, Princox?
+
+    BOLD. Bedtime, an't please you, madam.
+
+    WID. Come, undress me. Would God had made me a man!
+
+    BOLD. Why, madam?
+
+    WID. Because
+    I would have been in bed as soon as they.
+    We are so long unpinning and unlacing.
+
+BOLD. Yet many of us, madam, are quickly undone sometime: but herein we
+have the advantage of men, though they can be abed sooner than we, it's
+a great while, when they are abed, ere they can get up.
+
+WID. Indeed, if they be well-laid, Princox, one cannot get them up again
+in haste.
+
+BOLD. O God! madam, how mean you that? I hope you know, ill things taken
+into a gentlewoman's ears are the quick corrupters of maiden modesty. I
+would be loth to continue in any service unfit for my virgin estate, or
+where the world should take any notice of light behaviour in the lady I
+follow; for, madam, the main point of chastity in a lady is to build the
+rock of a good opinion amongst the people by circumstances, and a fair
+show she must make. _Si non caste, tamen caute_, madam; and though wit
+be a wanton, madam, yet I beseech your ladyship, for your own credit
+and mine, let the bridle of judgment be always in the chaps of it, to
+give it head or restrain it, according as time and place shall be
+convenient.
+
+WID. Precise and learned Princox, dost not thou go to Blackfriars?
+
+BOLD. Most frequently, madam, unworthy vessel that I am to partake or
+retain any of the delicious dew that is there distilled.
+
+WID. But why shouldst thou ask me, what I meant e'en now? I tell thee,
+there's nothing uttered but carries a double sense,[99] one good, one
+bad; but if the hearer apply it to the worst, the fault lies in his or
+her corrupt understanding, not in the speaker; for to answer your Latin,
+_pravis omnia prava_. Believe me, wench, if ill come into my fancy, I
+will purge it by speech: the less will remain within. A pox of these
+nice-mouthed creatures! I have seen a narrow pair of lips utter as broad
+a tale as can be bought for money. Indeed, an ill tale unuttered is like
+a maggot in a nut, it spoils the whitest kernel.
+
+BOLD. You speak most intelligently, madam.
+
+WID. Hast not done yet? Thou art an old fumbler, I perceive. Methinks
+thou dost not do things like a woman.
+
+BOLD. Madam, I do my endeavour, and the best can do no more; they that
+could do better, it may be would not, and then 'twere all one. But
+rather than be a burthen to your ladyship, I protest sincerely, I would
+beg my bread; therefore I beseech you, madam, to hold me excused, and
+let my goodwill stand for the action.
+
+WID. Let thy goodwill stand for the action? If goodwill would do it,
+there's many a lady in this land would be content with her old lord; and
+thou canst not be a burthen to me, without thou lie upon me, and that
+were preposterous in thy sex. Take no exceptions at what I say. Remember
+you said _stand_ even now. There was a word for one of your coat,
+indeed!
+
+BOLD. I swear, madam, you are very merry. God send you good luck. Has
+your ladyship no waters that you use at bedtime?
+
+WID. No, in troth, Princox.
+
+BOLD. No complexion!
+
+WID. None but mine own, I swear. Didst thou ever use any?
+
+BOLD. No, indeed, madam; now and then a piece of scarlet, or so; a
+little white and red ceruse; but, in troth, madam, I have an excellent
+receipt for a nightmask as ever you heard.
+
+WID. What is it?
+
+BOLD. Boar's grease one ounce; Jordan almonds, blanched and ground, a
+quartern; red rosewater, half a pint; mare's urine, newly covered, half
+a score drops.
+
+WID. Fogh! no more of thy medicine, if thou lovest me. Few of our
+knights-errant, when they meet a fair lady-errant in a morning, would
+think her face had lain so plastered all night. Thou hast had some
+apothecary to thy sweetheart. But, leaving this face-physic (for, by my
+troth, it may make others have good ones, but it makes me a scurvy one),
+which of all the gallants in the town wouldst thou make a husband of, if
+thou mightst have him for thy choosing?
+
+BOLD. In troth, madam, but you'll say I speak blindly, but let my love
+stand aside----
+
+WID. I think it not fit, indeed, your love should stand in the middle.
+
+BOLD. I say, Master Bold. O, do but mark him, madam; his leg, his hand,
+his body, and all his members stand in print.
+
+WID. Out upon thee, Princox! No. Methinks Welltried's a handsome fellow.
+I like not these starched gallants: masculine faces and masculine
+gestures please me best.
+
+BOLD. How like you Master Pert?
+
+WID. Fie upon him! when he is in his scarlet clothes, he looks like a
+man of wax, and I had as lief have a dog o' wax: I do not think but he
+lies in a case o' nights. He walks as if he were made of gins[100]--as
+if Nature had wrought him in a frame: I have seen him sit discontented a
+whole play, because one of the purls of his band was fallen out of his
+reach to order again.[101]
+
+BOLD. Why, Bold, madam, is clean contrary.
+
+WID. Ay, but that's as ill: each extreme is alike vicious; his careful
+carelessness is his study. He spends as much time to make himself
+slovenly, as the other to be spruce. His garters hang over upon the
+calves of his legs, his doublet unbuttoned, and his points untrussed;
+his hair in's eyes like a drunkard, and his hat, worn on the[102]
+hinder-part of his head, as if he cared more for his memory than his
+wit, makes him look as if he were distracted. Princox, I would have you
+lie with me: I do not love to lie alone.
+
+BOLD. With all my heart, madam.
+
+WID. Are you clean-skinned?
+
+BOLD. Clean-skinned, madam? there's a question! do you think I have the
+itch? I am an Englishwoman: I protest, I scorn the motion.
+
+WID. Nay, prythee, Princox, be not angry: it's a sign of honesty, I can
+tell you.
+
+BOLD. Faith, madam, I think 'tis but simple honesty that dwells at the
+sign of the scab.
+
+    WID. Well, well, come to bed, and we'll talk further of all these
+    matters.                                              [_Exit._
+
+    BOLD. Fortune, I thank thee; I will owe thee eyes
+    For this good turn! now is she mine indeed.
+    Thou hast given me that success my project hop'd.
+    Off, false disguise, that hast been true to me,
+    And now be Bold, that thou may'st welcome be.         [_Exit._
+
+
+SCENE IV.
+
+_Enter_ WHOREBANG, BOTS,[103] TEARCHAPS, SPILLBLOOD, _and_ DRAWER:
+_several patches on their faces_.
+
+TEAR. Damn me, we will have more wine, sirrah, or we'll down into the
+cellar, and drown thee in a butt of Malmsey, and hew all the hogsheads
+in pieces.
+
+WHORE. Hang him, rogue! shall he die as honourable as the Duke of
+Clarence? by this flesh, let's have wine, or I will cut thy head off,
+and have it roasted and eaten in Pie Corner next Bartholomew-tide.
+
+DRAWER. Gentlemen, I beseech you consider where you are--Turnbull
+Street--a civil place: do not disturb a number of poor gentlewomen.
+Master Whorebang, Master Bots, Master Tearchaps, and Master Spillblood,
+the watch are abroad.
+
+SPILL. The watch! why, you rogue, are not we kings of Turnbull?
+
+DRAWER. Yes, marry are ye, sir: for my part, if you'll be quiet, I'll
+have a sign made of ye, and it shall be called the four kings of
+Turnbull.
+
+BOTS. Will you fetch us wine?
+
+WHORE. And a whore, sirrah?
+
+DRAWER. Why, what d'ye think of me? am I an infidel, a Turk, a pagan, a
+Saracen? I have been at Bess Turnup's, and she swears all the
+gentlewomen went to see a play at the Fortune,[104] and are not come in
+yet, and she believes they sup with the players.
+
+TEAR. Damn me, we must kill all those rogues: we shall never keep a
+whore honest for them.
+
+BOTS. Go your ways, sirrah. We'll have but a gallon apiece, and an ounce
+of tobacco.
+
+DRAWER. I beseech you, let it be but pottles.[105]
+
+    SPILL. 'Sheart! you rogue.                     [_Exit_ DRAWER.
+
+_Enter_ WELLTRIED _and_ LORD FEESIMPLE.
+
+WHORE. Master Welltried! welcome as my soul.
+
+_Enter_ DRAWER, _with wine, plate and tobacco_.
+
+BOTS. Noble lad, how dost thou?
+
+SPILL. As welcome as the tobacco and the wine, boy.
+
+TEAR. Damn me, thou art.
+
+FEE. Bless me (save you, gentlemen), they have not one face among 'em! I
+could wish myself well from them: from them: I would I had put out
+something upon my return; I had as lief be at Barmuthoes.[106]
+
+WELL. Pray, welcome this gentleman.
+
+    SPILL. Is he valiant?                                [_Aside._
+
+WELL. Faith, he's a little faulty that way; somewhat of a bashful and
+backward nature, yet I have brought him amongst you, because he hath a
+great desire to be fleshed.
+
+                                                         [_Aside._
+
+FEE. Yes, faith, sir, I have a great desire to be fleshed; now Master
+Welltried said he would bring me to the only fleshmongers in the town.
+
+    WELL. Sir, he cannot endure the sight of steel.      [_Aside._
+
+    WHORE. Not steel? zounds!   [_Claps his sword over the table._
+
+    FEE. Now I am going!                                [_Faints._
+
+BOTS. Here's to you, sir. I'll fetch you again with a cup of sack.
+
+FEE. I pledge you, sir, and begin to you in a cup of claret.
+
+WELL. Hark you, my lord: what will you say if I make you beat all these
+out of the room?
+
+                                                         [_Aside._
+
+FEE. What will I say? why, I say it is impossible; 'tis not in mortal
+man.
+
+                                                        [_Aside._]
+
+WELL. Well, drink apace: if any brave you, outbrave him; I'll second
+you. They are a company of cowards, believe me.
+
+                                                        [_Aside._]
+
+FEE. By this light, I would they were else: if I thought so, I would be
+upon the jack[107] of one of 'em instantly, that same little Damn me.
+But, Master Welltried, if they be not very valiant, or dare not fight,
+how came they by such cuts and gashes, and such broken faces? [_Aside._]
+
+WELL. Why, their whores strike 'em with cans and glasses, and
+quart-pots: if they have nothing by 'em, they strike 'em with the pox,
+and you know that will lay one's nose as flat as a basket-hilt dagger.
+
+                                                        [_Aside._]
+
+    FEE. Well, let me alone.                            [_Aside._]
+
+TEAR. This bully dares not drink.
+
+FEE. Dare I not, sir?
+
+WELL. Well said; speak to him, man.
+
+FEE. You had best try me, sir.
+
+SPILL. We four will drink four healths to four of the seven deadly sins,
+pride, drunkenness, wrath, and lechery.
+
+FEE. I'll pledge 'em, and I thank you; I know 'em all. Here's one.
+
+WHORE. Which of the sins?
+
+FEE. By my troth, even to pride.
+
+WELL. Why, well said; and in this do not you only pledge your mistress's
+health, but all the women's in the world.
+
+FEE. So: now this little cup to wrath, because he and I are strangers.
+
+TEAR. Brave boy! damn me, he shall be a roarer.
+
+FEE. Damn me, I will be a roarer, or't shall cost me a fall.
+
+BOTS. The next place that falls, pray, let him have it.
+
+FEE. Well, I have two of my healths to drink yet--lechery and
+drunkenness, which even shall go together.
+
+WELL. Why, how now, my lord, a moralist?
+
+BOTS. Damn me, art thou a lord? what virtues hast thou?
+
+FEE. Virtues? enough to keep e'er a damn-me company in England: methinks
+you should think it virtue enough to be a lord.
+
+WHORE. Will not you pledge these healths, Master Welltried? we'll have
+no observers.
+
+WELL. Why, Monsieur Whorebang? I am no playmaker[108], and, for pledging
+your healths, I love none of the four you drank to so well.
+
+SPILL. Zounds! you shall pledge me this.
+
+WELL. Shall I?
+
+FEE. What's the matter? dost hear, Master Welltried, use thine own
+discretion; if thou wilt not pledge him, say so, and let me see if e'er
+a damn-me of 'em all will force thee.
+
+SPILL. Puff! will your lordship take any tobacco? you lord with the
+white face.
+
+BOTS. Heart! he cannot put it through his nose.
+
+FEE. Faith, you have ne'er a nose to put it through; d'ye hear I blow
+your face, sirrah.
+
+TEAR. You'll pledge me, sir?
+
+WELL. Indeed, I will not.
+
+FEE. Damn me, he shall not then.[109]
+
+TEAR. Lord, use your own words, _damn me_ is mine; I am known by it all
+the town o'er, d'ye hear?
+
+FEE. It is as free for me as you, d'ye hear, Patch?[110]
+
+TEAR. I have paid more for't.
+
+WELL. Nay, I'll bear him witness in a truth: his soul lies for't,[111]
+my lord.
+
+SPILL. Welltried, you are grown proud since you got good clothes and
+have followed your lord.
+
+                                     [_Strikes, and they scuffle._
+
+WHORE. I have known you lousy, Welltried.
+
+WELL. Roarer, you lie. [_Draw and fight; throw pots and stools._
+
+DRAWER. O Jesu!
+
+ALL SWAGGERERS. Zounds! cleave or be cleft: pell-mell: slash arms and
+legs.
+
+FEE. Heart! let me alone with 'em.
+
+                      [_Break off, and exeunt all the_ SWAGGERERS.
+
+WELL. Why, now thou art a worthy wight, indeed, a Lord of Lorn.[112]
+
+FEE. I am a madman: look, is not that one of their heads?
+
+WELL. Fie! no, my lord.
+
+FEE. Damn me, but 'tis; I would not wish you to cross me a'purpose: if
+you have anything to say to me, so--I am ready.
+
+WELL. O brave lord! many a roarer thus is made by wine. Come, it is one
+of their heads, my lord.
+
+FEE. Why so, then, I will have my humour. If you love me, let's go break
+windows somewhere.
+
+WELL. Drawer, take your plate. For the reckoning there's some of their
+cloaks: I will be no shot-log to such.
+
+DRAWER. God's blessing o' your heart for thus ridding the house of them.
+
+                                                        [_Exeunt._
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+  [97] [Old copy, _wants, and_.]
+
+  [98] [Old copy, _no_.]
+
+  [99] Both the old copies read, _that carries a double sense_, but it
+  is clearly a misprint.
+
+  [100] The Widow means that Master Pert walks as if he were made of
+  _wires_, and _gins_ were usually composed of wire.
+
+  [101] So in "The Fatal Dowry," Liladam exclaims, "Uds light! my lord,
+  one of the purls of your band is, without all discipline, fallen out
+  of his rank," act ii. sc. 2. These little phrases may assist in
+  tracing the authorship of different parts of a play by distinct
+  authors.
+
+  [102] [Old copy, _his_.]
+
+  [103] [This name, given to one of the _roarers_, is a corruption of
+  _pox_. We often meet with the form in the old plays.]
+
+  [104] The _Fortune_ Theatre [in Golden Lane] was built in 1599 by
+  Edward Allen, the founder of Dulwich College, at an expense of £520,
+  and in the Prologue of Middleton and Dekker's "Roaring Girl" it is
+  called "a _vast_ theatre." It was eighty feet square, and was consumed
+  by fire in 1621.
+
+  [105] A pottle was half a gallon.
+
+  [106] He means that he wishes he had _insured_ his return, as he would
+  as willingly be at the Bermudas, or (as it was then called) "The Isle
+  of Devils." In a note on "the still vexed Barmoothes" ("Tempest," act
+  i. sc. 2), it is shown that _the Bermudas_ was a cant name for the
+  privileged resort of such characters as Whorebang and his companions.
+
+  The notions entertained by our ancestors of the Bermudas is distinctly
+  shown in the following extract from Middleton's "Anything for a Quiet
+  Life," 1662, act v.; [Dyce's edit., iv. 499.] _Chamlet_ is troubled
+  with a shrewish wife, and is determined to leave England and go
+  somewhere else. He says--
+
+      "The place I speak of has been kept with thunder,
+      With frightful lightnings' amazing noises;
+      But now (the enchantment broke) 'tis the land of peace,
+      Where hogs and tobacco yield fair increase. . .
+      Gentlemen, fare you well, I am for the Bermudas."
+
+  [107] "The _jack_, properly, is a coat of mail, but it here means a
+  buff _jacket_ or _jerkin_ worn by soldiers or pretended soldiers."
+
+  [108] These words have reference, perhaps, to Middleton and Rowley's
+  curious old comedy of manners, "A Faire Quarrel," 1617 and 1622. The
+  second edition contains "new additions of Mr Chaugh, and Trimtram's
+  _roaring_." These two persons, empty pretenders to courage, set up a
+  sort of academy for instruction in the art and mystery of _roaring_ or
+  bullying, and much of the piece is written in ridicule of it and its
+  riotous professors. Whorebang calls these playmakers _observers_, as
+  if suspecting that Welltried and Feesimple came among them for the
+  purpose of making notes for a play. In Webster and Rowley's "Cure for
+  a Cuckold," 1661, act iv. sc. 1, there is another allusion to the
+  "Faire Quarrel," where Compass uses the words _Tweak_ and
+  _Bronstrops_, adding, "I learnt that name in a play." Chaugh and
+  Trimtram, in the "Faire Quarrel," undertake also to give lessons in
+  the _cant_ and _slang_ of the time. In other respects, excepting as a
+  picture of the manners of the day, that play possesses little to
+  recommend it.
+
+  [109] In both the old copies this remark is erroneously given to
+  Tearchaps.
+
+  [110] _Patch_ and _fool_ are synonymous in old writers. Feesimple
+  alludes also to the patch on the face of Tearchaps.
+
+  [111] That is, his soul _lies in pawn_ for employing the oath.
+
+  [112] [The hero of an early heroic ballad so called. See Hazlitt,
+  in _v_.]
+
+
+
+
+ACT IV., SCENE 1.
+
+
+_Enter_ WIDOW _undressed, a sword in her hand; and_ BOLD _in his shirt,
+as started from bed_.
+
+    WID. Uncivil man! if I should take thy life,
+    It were not to be weigh'd with thy attempt.
+    Thou hast for ever lost me.
+
+    BOLD. Madam, why?
+    Can love beget loss? Do I covet you
+    Unlawfully? Am I an unfit man
+    To make a husband of? Send for a priest;
+    First consummate the match, and then to bed
+    Without more trouble.
+
+    WID. No, I will not do't.
+
+    BOLD. Why, you confess'd to me (as your gentlewoman)[113]
+    I was the man your heart did most affect;
+    That you did doat upon my mind and body.
+
+    WID. So, by the sacred and inviolate knot
+    Of marriage, I do; but will not wed thee.
+
+    BOLD. Why, yet enjoy me now. Consider, lady,
+    That little but bless'd time I was in bed,
+    Although I lay as by my sister's side,
+    The world is apt to censure otherwise:
+    So, 'tis necessity that we marry now.
+
+    WID. Pish! I regard not at a straw the world.
+    Fame from the tongues of men doth injury
+    Oft'ner than justice; and as conscience
+    Only makes guilty persons, not report,
+    (For show we clear as springs unto the world,
+    If our own knowledge do not make us so,
+    That is no satisfaction to ourselves),
+    So stand we ne'er so leprous to men's eye,
+    It cannot hurt heart-known integrity.
+    You have trusted to that fond opinion,
+    This is the way to have a widowhood,
+    By getting to her bed.[114] Alas! young man,
+    Shouldst thou thyself tell thy companions
+    Thou hast dishonour'd me (as you men have tongues
+    Forked and venom'd 'gainst our subject sex);
+    It should not move me, that know 'tis not so:
+    Therefore depart. Truth be my virtuous shield.
+
+    BOLD. Few widows would do thus.
+
+    WID. All modest would.
+
+    BOLD. To be in bed, and in possession
+    Even of the mark I aim'd at, and go off
+    Foil'd and disgrac'd! Come, come, you'll laugh at me
+    Behind my back; publish I wanted spirit,
+    And mock me to the ladies; call me child,
+    Say you denied me but to try the heat
+    And zeal of my affection toward you,
+    Then clapp'd up with a rhyme; as for example--
+
+        _He coldly loves retires for one vain trial,
+         For we are yielding when we make denial._
+
+    WID. Servant, I make no question, from this time
+    You'll hold a more reverent opinion
+    Of some that wear long coats; and 'tis my pride
+    To assure you that there are amongst us good,
+    And with this continency. If you go away,
+    I'll be so far from thinking it defect,
+    That I will hold you worthiest of men.
+
+    BOLD. 'Sheart! I am Tantalus: my long'd-for fruit
+    Bobs at my lips, yet still it shrinks from me.
+    Have not I that, which men say never fails
+    To o'ercome any, opportunity?[115]
+    Come, come; I am too cold in my assault.
+    By all the virtues that yet ever were
+    In man or woman, I with reverence
+    Do love thee, lady, but will be no fool
+    To let occasion slip her foretop from me.
+
+    WID. You will fail this way too. Upon my knees
+    I do desire thee to preserve thy virtues,
+    And with my tears my honour: 'tis as bad
+    To lose our worths to them, or to deceive
+    Who have held worthy opinions of us,
+    As to betray trust. All this I implore
+    For thine own sake, not mine: as for myself,
+    If thou be'st violent, by this stupid night
+    And all the mischiefs her dark womb hath bred,
+    I'll raise the house; I'll cry a rape.
+
+    BOLD. I hope
+    You will not hang me: that were murder, lady,
+    A greater sin than lying with me, sure.
+
+    WID. Come, flatter not yourself with argument.
+    I will exclaim: the law hangs you, not I;
+    Or if I did, I had rather far confound
+    The dearest body in the world to me,
+    Than that that body should confound my soul.
+
+    BOLD. Your soul? alas! mistress, are you so fond
+    To think her general destruction
+    Can be procur'd by such a natural act,
+    Which beasts are born to, and have privilege in?
+    Fie, fie! if this could be, far happier
+    Are insensitive[116] souls in their creation
+    Than man, the prince of creatures. Think you, heaven
+    Regards such mortal deeds, or punisheth
+    Those acts for which he hath ordained us?
+
+    WID. You argue like an atheist: man is never
+    The prince of creatures, as you call him now,
+    But in his reason; fail that, he is worse
+    Than horse, or dog, or beast of wilderness;
+    And 'tis that reason teacheth us to do
+    Our actions unlike them: then, that which you
+    Termed in them a privilege beyond us,
+    The baseness of their being doth express,
+    Compar'd to ours: horses, bulls and swine
+    Do leap their dams; because man does not so,
+    Shall we conclude his making[117] happiless?
+
+    BOLD. You put me down--yet will not put me down.
+    I am too gentle: some of you, I have heard,
+    Love not these words, but force; to have it done,
+    As they sing prick-song, ev'n at the first sight.
+
+    WID. Go to: keep off; by heaven and earth, I'll call else!
+
+    BOLD. How, if nobody hear you?
+
+    WID. If they do not,
+    I'll kill you with mine own hand; never stare:
+    Or failing that, fall on this sword myself.
+
+    BOLD. O widow wonderful! if thou be'st not honest,
+    Now God forgive my mother and my sisters.
+    Think but how finely, madam, undiscover'd
+    For ever I[118] might live: all day your gentlewoman
+    To do you service, but all night your man
+    To do you service: newness of the trick,
+    If nothing else, might stir ye.
+
+    WID. 'Tis a stale one,
+    And was done in the Fleet ten years ago.
+    Will you begone? the door is open for you.
+
+    BOLD. Let me but tarry till the morning, madam,
+    To send for clothes. Shall I go naked home?
+
+    WID. 'Tis best time now; it is but one o'clock,
+    And you may go unseen: I swear, by heaven,
+    I would spend all the night to sit and talk w' ye,
+    If I durst trust you: I do love you so.
+    My blood forsakes my heart now you depart.
+
+    BOLD. 'Sheart! will you marry me hereafter, then?
+
+    WID. No, you are too young, and I am much too old;
+    Ay, and unworthy, and the world will say,
+    We married not for love. Good morrow, servant.  [_Exit_ WIDOW.
+
+BOLD. Why so: these women are the errantest jugglers in the world: the
+wry-legged fellow is an ass to 'em. Well, I must have this widow,
+what-e'er come on't. Faith, she has turned me out of her service very
+barely. Hark, what's here? music?
+
+_Enter_ SUBTLE _with a paper, and his_ BOY _with a cloak_.
+
+    SUB. [_Reads._] "Rise, lady mistress, rise,
+     The night hath tedious been;
+     No sleep hath fallen into my eyes,
+     Nor slumbers made me sin.
+     Is not she a saint, then say,
+     Thought of whom keeps sin away?
+
+     "Rise, madam, rise and give me light,
+     Whom darkness still will cover,
+     And ignorance, darker than night,
+     Till thou smile on thy lover.
+     All want day, till thy beauty rise,
+     For the grey morn breaks from thine eyes!"[119]
+     Now sing it, sirrah.             [_The song sung by the_ BOY.
+
+    SUB. 'Sfoot, who's this? young Master Bold! God save you; you are an
+    early stirrer.
+
+    BOLD. You say true, Master Subtle, I have been early up,
+    But, as God help me, I was never the near.[120]
+
+SUB. Where have you been, sir?
+
+BOLD. What's that to you, sir? at a woman's labour?
+
+SUB. Very good: I ne'er took you for a man-midwife[121] before.
+
+BOLD. The truth is, I have been up all night at dice, and lost my
+clothes. Good morrow, Master Subtle. Pray God the watch be broke up: I
+thank you for my music.
+
+                                                          [_Exit._
+
+SUB. 'Tis palpable, by this air: her husband being abroad, Bold has lain
+with her, and is now conveyed out of doors. Is this the Lady Perfect,
+with a pox? The truth is, her virtuous chastity began to make me make a
+miracle of her still holding out to me, notwithstanding her husband's
+most barbarous usage of her; but now, indeed, 'tis no marvel, since
+another possesses her.
+
+    Well, madam, I will go find out your cuckold;
+    I'll be reveng'd on you, and tell a tale
+    Shall tickle him. This is a cheat in love
+    Not to be borne: another to beguile
+    Me of the game I play'd for all this while.           [_Exit._
+
+
+SCENE II.
+
+_Enter_ WELLTRIED, _and_ BOLD _putting on his doublet;_ FEESIMPLE
+_asleep on a bed, as in_ BOLD'S _chamber_.
+
+WELL. You see, we made bold with your lodging: indeed, I did assure
+myself you were fast for this night.
+
+BOLD. But how the devil came this fool in your company?
+
+WELL. 'Sfoot, man, I carried him last night among the roarers to flesh
+him; and, by this light, he got drunk, and beat 'em all.
+
+BOLD. Why, then he can endure the sight of a drawn sword now?
+
+WELL. O God, sir, I think in my conscience he will eat steel shortly. I
+know not how his conversion will hold after this sleep; but, in an hour
+or two last night, he was grown such a little damn-me, that I protest I
+was afraid of the spirit that I myself had raised in him. But this
+other matter--of your expulsion thus, mads me to the heart. Were you in
+bed with her?
+
+BOLD. In bed, by heaven.
+
+WELL. I'll be hanged, if you were not busy too soon: you should have let
+her slept first.
+
+BOLD. Zounds! man, she put her hand to my breasts, and swore I was no
+maid: now I, being eager to prove her words true, took that hint, and
+would violently have thrust her hand lower, when her thought, being
+swifter than my strength, made her no sooner imagine that she was
+betrayed, but she leaps out of the bed, whips me down a sword that hung
+by, and, as if fortitude and justice had met to assist her, spite of all
+argument, fair or foul, she forced me away.
+
+WELL. But is it possible thou shouldst have no more wit? wouldst thou
+come away upon any terms but sure ones, having night, her chamber, and
+herself naked in thine arms? By that light, if I had a son of fourteen,
+whom I had helped thus far, that had served me so, I would breech
+him.[122]
+
+BOLD. 'Sheart! what would you have me done?
+
+WELL. Have done? done? done twice at least.
+
+BOLD. Have played Tarquin, and ravished her?
+
+WELL. Pish! Tarquin was a blockhead: if he had had any wit and could
+have spoke, Lucrece had never been ravished; she would have yielded, I
+warrant thee, and so will any woman.
+
+BOLD. I was such an erroneous heretic to love and women as thou art,
+till now.
+
+WELL. God's precious! it makes me mad when I think on't. Was there ever
+such an absurd trick! now will she abuse thee horribly, say thou art a
+faint-hearted fellow, a milksop, and I know not what, as indeed thou
+art.
+
+BOLD. Zounds! would you had been in my place.
+
+WELL. Zounds! I would I had, I would have so jumbled her honesty.
+Wouldst thou be held out at stave's end with words? dost thou not know a
+widow's a weak vessel, and is easily cast, if you close.
+
+BOLD. Welltried, you deal unfriendly.
+
+WELL. By this light, I shall blush to be seen in thy company.
+
+BOLD. Pray, leave my chamber.
+
+    WELL. Pox upon your chamber!
+    I care not for your chamber nor yourself,
+    More than you care for me.
+
+    BOTS. 'Sblood! I as little for you.
+
+    WELL. Why, fare you well.
+
+    BOTS. Why, fare well. Yet, Welltried,[123] I prythee, stay:
+    Thou know'st I love thee.
+
+    WELL. 'Sheart! I love you as well;
+    But for my spleen or choler, I think I have
+    As much as you.
+
+    BOTS. Well, friend,
+    This is the business you must do for me.
+    Repair unto the widow, where give out,
+    To-morrow morn I shall be married:
+    Invite her to the wedding. I have a trick
+    To put upon this lord, too, whom I made
+    My instrument to prefer me.
+
+    WELL. What shall follow
+    I will not ask, because I mean[124] to see't.
+    The jars 'twixt friends still keeps their friendship sweet.
+                                                          [_Exit._
+
+FEE. [_waking_.] Why, Welltried, you rogue! what's that? a vision?
+
+BOLD. Why, how now, my lord? whom do you call rogue? The gentleman you
+name is my friend. If you were wise, I should be angry.
+
+FEE. Angry with me? why, damn me, sir, and you be, out with your sword.
+It is not with me, I tell you, as it was yesterday; I am fleshed, man,
+I. Have you anything to say to me?
+
+BOLD. Nothing but this: how many do you think you have slain last night?
+
+FEE. Why, five; I never kill less.
+
+BOLD. There were but four. My lord, you had best provide yourself and
+begone; three you have slain stark dead.
+
+FEE. You jest!
+
+BOLD. It is most true. Welltried is fled.
+
+FEE. Why, let the roarers meddle with me another time: as for flying, I
+scorn it; I killed 'em like a man. When did you ever see a lord hang for
+anything? We may kill whom we list. Marry, my conscience pricks me. Ah!
+plague a' this drink! what things it makes us do! I do no more remember
+this now than a puppy-dog.
+
+O bloody lord, that art bedaub'd with gore!
+
+Vain world, adieu, for I will roar no more.
+
+BOLD. Nay, stay, my lord: I did but try the tenderness of your
+conscience. All this is nothing so; but, to sweeten the tale I have for
+you, I foretold you this feigned mischance.
+
+FEE. It is a tale belonging to the widow.
+
+BOLD. I think you are a witch.
+
+FEE. My grandmother was suspected.
+
+BOLD. The widow has desired you by me to meet her to-morrow morning at
+church in some unknown disguise, lest any suspect it; for, quoth she,
+
+    Long hath he held me fast in his moist hand,
+    Therefore I will be his in nuptial band.
+
+FEE. Bold, I have ever taken you to be my friend. I am very wise now and
+valiant; if this be not true, damn me, sir, you are the son of a whore,
+and you lie, and I will make it good with my sword.
+
+BOLD. I am whate'er you please, sir, if it be not true. I will go with
+you to the church myself. Your disguise I have thought on. The widow is
+your own. Come, leave your fooling.
+
+    FEE. _If this be true, thou little boy Bold,_       [_Cantat._
+            _So true, as thou tell'st to me,_
+          _To-morrow morn, when I have the widow,_
+            _My dear friend shall thou be_.[125]        [_Exeunt._
+
+
+SCENE III.
+
+_Enter_ MAID, _like the footboy;_ SELDOM _with_ PITTS _and_ DONNER, _a
+couple of serjeants_.
+
+    MAID. Sir, 'tis most true, and in this shall you be
+    Unlike to other citizens, that arrest
+    To undo gentlemen: your clemency here,
+    Perchance, saves two lives: one from the other's sword,
+    The other from the law's. This morn they fight,
+    And though your debtor be a lord, yet should he
+    Miscarry, certainly your debt were lost.
+
+    SEL. Dost thou serve the Lord Proudly?
+
+    MAID. Sir, I do.
+
+    SEL. Well, such a boy as thou is worth more money
+    Than thy lord owes me. 'Tis not for the debt
+    I do arrest him, but to end this strife,
+    Which both may lose my money and his life.
+
+_Enter_ LORD PROUDLY, _with a riding-rod_.
+
+    PROUDLY. My horse there! Zounds! I would not for the world
+    He should alight before me in the field;
+    My name and honour were for ever lost.
+
+    SEL. Good morrow to your honour. I do hear
+    Your lordship this fair morning is to fight,
+    And for your honour: did you never see
+    The play where the fat knight, hight Oldcastle,
+    Did tell you truly what his honour was?[126]
+
+    PROUDLY. Why, how now, good man flatcap,
+       "what-d'ye-lack?"[127]
+    Whom do you talk to, sirrah?
+
+    1ST SER. We arrest you.
+
+    PROUDLY. Arrest me, rogue? I am a lord, ye curs,
+    A parliament man.
+
+    2D SER. Sir, we arrest you, though.
+
+    PROUDLY. At whose suit?
+
+    SEL. At mine, sir.
+
+    PROUDLY. Why, thou base rogue! did not I set thee up,
+    Having no stock but thy shop and fair wife?[128]
+
+
+    SEL. Into my house with him!
+
+    MAID. Away with him! away with him!
+
+    PROUDLY. A plot, a trick, by heaven! See, Ingen's footboy:
+    'Tis by his master's means. O coward slave!
+    I'll put in bail, or pay the debt.
+
+    SEL. Ay, ay, ay; we'll talk with you within--thrust him in.
+                                                        [_Exeunt._
+
+_Enter_ INGEN _looking on his sword, and bending it; his brother like a
+man_.[129]
+
+    INGEN. If I miscarry, Frank, I prythee see
+    All my debts paid: about five hundred pounds
+    Will fully satisfy all men;[130] and my land,
+    And what I else possess, by Nature's right
+    And thy descent, Frank, I make freely thine.
+
+    BRO. I know you do not think I wish you dead
+    For all the benefit: besides, your spirit's
+    So opposite to counsel to avert
+    Your resolution, that I save my breath,
+    Which would be lost in vain, to expire and spend
+    Upon your foe, if you fall under him.
+
+    INGEN. Frank, I protest, you shall do injury
+    Upon my foe, and much disturbance too
+    Unto my soul departing, die I here
+    Fairly, and on my single enemy's sword,
+    If you should not let him go off untouch'd.
+    Now, by the master of thy life and mine,
+    I love thee, boy, beyond any example,
+    As well as thou dost me; but should I go
+    Thy second to the field, as thou dost mine,
+    And if thine enemy kill'd thee like a man,
+    I would desire never to see him more,
+    But he should bear himself off with those wounds
+    He had receiv'd from thee, from that time safe
+    And without persecution by the law;
+    For what hap is our foe's might be our own,
+    And no man's judgment sits in justice' place,
+    But weighing other men's as his own case.
+
+    BRO. He has the advantage of you, being a lord;
+    For should you kill him, you are sure to die,
+    And by some lawyer with a golden tongue,
+    That cries for right (ten angels on his side),
+    Your daring meet him call'd presumption:
+    But kill he you, he and his noble friends
+    Have such a golden snaffle for the jaws
+    Of man-devouring Pythagorean law,
+    They'll rein her stubborn chaps ev'n to her tail:
+    And (though she have iron teeth to meaner men),
+    So master her, that, who displeas'd her most,
+    She shall lie under like a tired jade;
+    For small boats on rough seas are quickly lost,
+    But ships ride safe, and cut the waves that tost.
+
+    INGEN. Follow what may, I am resolv'd, dear brother.
+    This monster valour, that doth feed on men,
+    Groans in me for my reputation.
+    This charge I give thee, too--if I do die,
+    Never to part from the young boy which late
+    I entertain'd, but love him for my sake.
+    And for my mistress, the Lady Honour,
+    Whom to deceive I have deceiv'd myself,
+    If she be dead, pray God I may give up
+    My life a sacrifice on her brother's sword;
+    But if thou liv'st to see her, gentle brother:
+    If I be slain, tell her I died, because
+    I had transgressed against her worthy love--
+    This sword is not well-mounted; let's see thine.
+
+_Enter_ MAID, _like a footboy_.
+
+    MAID. Your staying, sir, is in vain, for my Lord Proudly,
+    Just at his taking horse to meet you here,
+    At Seldom's suit (the citizen) was arrested
+    Upon an action of two hundred pounds.
+    I saw it, sir; 'tis true.
+
+    INGEN. O scurvy lord!
+    It had been a cleanlier shift than this to have had
+    It hinder'd by command, he being a lord.
+    But I will find him.
+
+_Enter_ LORD PROUDLY.
+
+    PROUDLY. You see, valiant sir, I have got loose
+    For all your stratagem. O rogue! are you there?
+                                      [PROUDLY _stabs his sister_.
+
+    INGEN. Most ignoble lord!
+    [INGEN _stabs_ PROUDLY _in the left arm_.
+
+    PROUDLY. Coward! thou didst this,
+    That I might be disabled for the fight,
+    Or that thou mightst have some excuse to shun me,
+    But 'tis my left arm thou hast lighted on.
+    I have no second: here are three of you.
+    If all do murder me, your consciences
+    Will more than hang you, damn you. Come, prepare!
+
+    INGEN. Brother, walk off, and take the boy away.
+    Is he hurt much?
+
+    BRO. Nothing, or very little.  [PROUDLY _thrusts the boy out_.
+
+    INGEN. I'll bind your wound up first: your loss of blood
+    May sooner make you faint.
+
+    PROUDLY. Ingen, thou art
+    A worthy gentleman: for this courtesy,
+    Go to, I'll save thy life. Come on, sir!     [_A pass or two._
+    I'll cut your codpiece point, sir, with this thrust,
+    And then down go your breeches.
+
+    INGEN. Your lordship's merry.                         [_Pass._
+    I had like to have spoil'd your cutwork band.
+
+_Enter_ MAID, _like a footboy, running;_ BROTHER _after her;_ MAID
+_kneels betwixt them_.
+
+    MAID. O master, hold your hand! my lord, hold yours,
+    Or let your swords meet in this wretched breast!
+    Yet you are both well; what blood you have lost,
+    Give it as for the injury you did,
+    And now be friends.
+
+    PROUDLY. 'Sheart! 'tis a loving rogue.
+
+    INGEN. Kind boy, stand up: 'tis for thy wound he bleeds;
+    My wrong is yet unsatisfied.
+
+    PROUDLY. Hence! away! It is a sister's loss that whets my sword.
+
+    MAID. O, stay, my lord! behold your sister here.
+                                             [_Discovers herself._
+    Bleeding by your hand: servant, see your mistress
+    Turn'd to thy servant, running by thy horse;
+    Whose meaning 'twas[131] to have prevented this,
+    But all in vain.
+
+    BRO. O noble lady!
+
+    INGEN. Most worthy pattern of all womenkind!
+
+    PROUDLY. Ingen, I am satisfied; put up your sword.
+    Sister, you must with me: I have a husband,
+    The Lord Feesimple's father, old, but rich.
+    This gentleman is no match for you: kneel not.
+    That portion of yours I have consum'd!
+    Thus marrying, you shall never come to want.
+
+    MAID. O sweet my lord, my brother! do not force me
+    To break my faith, or to a loathed bed.
+
+    INGEN. Force you he shall not: brother, bear her hence.
+    She is my wife, and thou shalt find my cause
+    Ten times improv'd now.
+
+    PROUDLY. O, have at you, sir.                         [_Pass._
+
+    MAID. Hold, hold, for heaven's sake! was e'er wretched lady
+    Put to this hazard? Sir, let me speak
+    But one word with him, and I'll go with you,
+    And undergo whatever you command.
+
+    PROUDLY. Do't quickly, for I love no whispering,
+    'Tis strange to see you, madam, with a sword!
+    You should have come hither in your lady's clothes.
+
+    MAID. Well, as you please, my lord: you are witness,
+    Whatsoe'er before
+    Hath pass'd betwixt us, thus I do undo.
+    Were not I mad to think thou couldst love me,
+    That wouldst have slain my brother.
+
+    PROUDLY. Say'st true, sister?
+
+    INGEN. O, thou fair creature! wilt thou be as false
+    As other ladies?
+
+    MAID. Thou art my example.
+    I'll kiss thee once: farewell for ever. Come, my lord, now
+    Match me, with whom you please--a tumbler.
+    I must do this, else had they fought again.
+
+    PROUDLY. Mine own best sister! Farewell, Master Ingen.
+                                     [_Exeunt_ PROUDLY _and_ MAID.
+
+    BRO. O ancient truth! to be denied of no man:
+    An eel by the tail's held surer than a woman.       [_Exeunt._
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+  [113] The second edit. reads, _as your a gentlewoman_, but Bold means
+  that the Widow confessed to him when he was disguised as her
+  gentlewoman. The first edit. warrants this interpretation.
+
+  [114] [He refers to the common proverb. See Hazlitt, p. 191-2; and
+  Dodsley, x. 306.]
+
+  [115]   "O opportunity, thy guilt is great," &c.
+
+  --Shakespeare's "Lucrece," [Dyce's edit, 1868, viii. 312.]
+
+  [116] [Old copy, _sensitive_.]
+
+  [117] [Mating.]
+
+  [118] [Old copy, _you and I_.]
+
+  [119] The concluding thought of this pretty song has been in request
+  by many poets of all countries: Eustachio Manfredi has carried it to
+  an extreme that would seem merely absurd, but for the grace of the
+  expression of his sonnet, _Il primo albor non appariva ancora_.
+  Appended to "The Fatal Dowry" is "a dialogue between a man and a
+  woman" which commences with it, and which we may therefore assign to
+  Field.
+
+  [120] [An allusion to the proverb.]
+
+  [121] _Man_ omitted in the second edit.
+
+  [122] Flog him.
+
+  [123] [Edits., _you_. _Welltried_.]
+
+  [124] [Edits., _meant_.]
+
+  [125] [These lines appear to be taken from some song of "Little Boy
+  Blue."]
+
+  [126] This passage has been adduced by Dr Farmer to show that Falstaff
+  was originally called by Shakespeare _Oldcastle_, according to the
+  tradition mentioned by Rowe, and supported by Fuller in his
+  "Worthies," and by other authorities. The point is argued at great
+  length in Malone's Shakespeare by Boswell, xvi. 410, _et seq._, and
+  the decisions of the learned have been various; but the balance of
+  evidence is undoubtedly in favour of the opinion that Shakespeare made
+  the change, perhaps to avoid the confusion of his very original
+  character with the mere fat buffoon of the old play of "Henry V.," a
+  point not adverted to in the discussion. Field's testimony seems
+  tolerably decisive.
+
+  [127] Citizens and apprentices were called in derision _flatcaps_ and
+  _what-d'ye-lacks_ in reference to their dress and occupation.
+
+  [128] [Edits., _fair shop and wife_.]
+
+  [129] [_i.e._, a servant.]
+
+  [130] _Will satisfy all men_, in the second edition.
+
+  [131] [Edits., _means it_.]
+
+
+
+
+ACT V., SCENE I.
+
+
+_Enter_ SUBTLE, _with_ HUSBAND.
+
+    SUB. She is not to be cast.
+
+    HUS. It cannot be:
+    Had you a wife, and I were in your case,
+    I would be hang'd even at the chamber-door,
+    Where I attempted, but I'd lay her flat.
+
+    SUB. Why, tell me truly, would it please you best,
+    To have her remain chaste or conquered?
+
+    HUS. O friend, it would do me good at the heart
+    To have her overcome: she does so brag,
+    And stand upon her chastity, forsooth.
+
+    SUB. Why, then, in plain terms, sir, the fort is mine:
+    Your wife has yielded; _up-tails_ is her song.
+    The deed is done. Come now, be merry, man.
+
+    HUS. Is the deed done indeed? Come, come, you jest.
+    Has my wife yielded? is _up-tails_ her song?
+    Faith, come to[132] prose: how got you to the matter first, ha?
+    Pish! you are so bashful now----
+
+SUB. Why, by my troth, I'll tell you, because you are my friend;
+otherwise you must note, it is a great hurt to the art of whoremastery
+to discover; besides, the skill was never mine o' th' price.
+
+HUS. Very good; on, sir.
+
+SUB. At the first she was horrible stiff against me; then, sir, I took
+her by the hand, which I kissed.
+
+HUS. Good, sir.
+
+SUB. And I called her pretty rogue, and I thrust my finger betwixt her
+breasts, and I made lips. At last, I pulled her by the chin to me, and I
+kissed her.
+
+HUS. Hum!--very good.
+
+SUB. So at the first she kissed very strangely, close and untoward. Then
+said I to her, think but upon the wrongs, the intolerable wrongs, the
+rogue your husband does you.
+
+HUS. Ay, that was very good: what said she to you then, sir?
+
+SUB. Nay, I went on. First, quoth I, think how he hath used you--left
+you no means, given all your clothes to his punks; struck you, turned
+your grey eyes into black ones, but yet----
+
+HUS. A pretty conceit!
+
+SUB. Quoth I, these things are nothing in the rascal: think but what a
+base whoremaster the rascal is.
+
+HUS. Did you call me rascal so often, are you sure?
+
+SUB. Yes, and oftener; for, said I, none comes amiss to the rogue. I
+have known him, quoth I, do three lousy beggars under hedges in the
+riding of ten mile, and I swore this too.
+
+HUS. 'Twas very well; but you did lie. On, pray.
+
+SUB. Pish! one must lie a little. Now, sir, by this time she began to
+kiss somewhat more openly and familiarly, her resistance began to
+slacken, and my assault began to stiffen. The more her bulwark decayed,
+the more my battery fortified. At last, sir, a little fumbling being
+passed to make the conquest more difficult, she perceiving my
+artillery[133] mounted, falls me flat upon her back, cries me out
+aloud--
+
+    Alas! I yield. Use me not roughly, friend;
+    My fort that, like Troy town, ten years hath stood
+    Besieg'd and shot at, did remain unwon;
+    But now 'tis conquer'd. So the deed was done.
+
+    HUS. Then came the hottest service. Forward with your tale, sir.
+
+    SUB. Nay,
+
+    _Cætera quis nescit? lassi requievimus ambo:
+    Proveniant medii sic mihi sæpe dies_.[134]
+
+HUS. Which is as much as to say I am a cuckold in all languages! But
+sure, 'tis not so? it is impossible my wife should yield.
+
+SUB. Heyday! ev'n now it was impossible she should hold out, and now it
+is impossible she should yield. Stay you but here, and be an ear-witness
+to what follows. I'll fetch your wife. [_Aside._] I know he will not
+stay.
+
+                                                          [_Exit._
+
+    HUS. Good faith, sir, but he will.
+    I do suspect some knavery in this.
+    Here will I hide myself; when thought as gone,
+    If they do ought unfitting, I will call
+    Witness, and straightway sue [for] a divorce.   [_Aside. Exit._
+
+_Enter_ WIFE _and_ SUBTLE.
+
+    SUB. I knew he would not stay. Now, noble mistress,
+    I claim your promise.
+
+    WIFE. What was that, good servant?
+
+    SUB. That you would lie with me.
+
+    WIFE. If with any man--
+    But, prythee, first consider with thyself,
+    If I should yield to thee, what a load thy conscience
+    Would bear about it; for I wish quick thunder
+    May strike me, if I yet have lost the truth,
+    Or whiteness of the hand I gave in church:
+    And 'twill not be thy happiness (as thou think'st)
+    That thou alone shouldst make a woman fall,
+    That did resist all else; but to thy soul
+    A bitter corrosive, that thou didst stain
+    Virtue that else had stood immaculate.
+    Nor speak I this as yielding unto thee,
+    For 'tis not in thy power, wert thou the sweet'st
+    Of nature's children and the happiest,
+    To conquer me, nor in mine own to yield;
+    And thus it is with every pious wife.
+    Thy daily railing at my absent husband
+    Makes me endure thee worse; for let him do
+    The most preposterous, ill-relishing things.
+    To me they seem good, since my husband does 'em.
+    Nor am I to revenge or govern him:
+    And thus it should be with all virtuous wives.
+
+    SUB. Pox o' this virtue and this chastity!
+    Do you [not] know, fair mistress, a young gentleman
+    About this town called Bold? Where did he lie
+    Last night, sweet mistress? O, O! are you catch'd?
+    I saw him slip out of the house this morn,
+    As naked as this truth; and for this cause
+    I have told your husband that you yielded to me,
+    And he, I warrant you, will blaze it thoroughly.
+    As good do now, then, as be thought to do.
+
+    WIFE. No, 'twill not be yet. Thou injurious man!
+    How wilt thou right me in my husband's thoughts,
+    That on a false surmise and spite hast told
+    A tale to breed incurable discontent?
+    Bold was that old wench that did serve the widow,
+    And thinking by this way to gain her love,
+    Miss'd of his purpose, and was thus cashier'd;
+    Nor cares she to proclaim it to the world.
+
+    SUB. Zounds! I have wrong'd you, mistress, on my knees
+                                                        [_Kneels._
+    I ask you pardon, and will nevermore
+    Attempt your purity, but neglect all things
+    Till that foul wrong I have bred in your knight
+    I have expell'd, and set your loves aright.
+
+_Enter_ HUSBAND.
+
+    HUS. Which now is done already. Madam, wife,        [_Kneels._
+    Upon my knees with weeping eyes, heav'd hands,
+    I ask thy pardon. O sweet, virtuous creature!
+    I prythee, break my head.
+
+    WIFE. Rise, rise, sir, pray.
+    You have done no wrong to me--at least, I think so:
+    Heaven hath prevented all my injury.
+    I do forgive, and marry you anew.
+    Come, we are all invited to the weddings:
+    The Lady Honour and the old rich Count,
+    Young Bold unto another gentlewoman:
+    We and the widow are invited thither.
+    Embrace and love henceforth more really,
+    Not so like worldlings.
+
+    HUS. Here then ends all strife.
+    Thus false friends are made true by a true wife.    [_Exeunt._
+
+
+SCENE II.[135]
+
+_Enter old_ COUNT, _wrapped in furs; the_ LADY HONOUR, _dressed like a
+bride; the_ LORD PROUDLY, WELLTRIED, BOLD, _leading_ FEESIMPLE _like a
+lady masqued;_ HUSBAND, WIFE, SUBTLE, WIDOW; _to them_ BROTHER, _with a
+letter;_[136] SELDOM _with his wife_.
+
+    BRO. Health and all joy unto this fair assembly.
+    My brother, who last tide is gone for France,
+    A branch of willow feathering his hat,
+    Bad me salute you, lady, and present you
+    With this same letter written in his blood.
+    He prays no man, for his sake, evermore
+    To credit woman, nor no lady ever
+    To believe man; so either sex shall rest
+    Uninjur'd by the other. This is all,
+    And this I have deliver'd.
+
+    PROUDLY. Ay, and well.
+    You pronounce rarely, did you never play?
+
+    BRO. Yes, that I have--the fool, as some lords do.
+
+    WELL. Set forward there.
+
+    COUNT. O, O, O! a pox o' this cold!
+
+    WELL. A cold o' this pox, you might say, I am afraid.
+
+    MAID. How full of ghastly wounds this letter shows.
+    O, O!                                               [_Swoons._
+
+    PROUDLY. Look to my sister.
+
+    BOLD. 'Sheart! the lady swoons.
+
+    WIFE. Strong water there.
+
+    FEE. If strong breath would recover her, I am for her.
+
+    COUNT. Alas, good lady! hum, hum, hum.  [_Coughs perpetually._
+
+    SUB. He has fetch'd her again with coughing.
+
+    MAID. Convey me to my bed; send for a priest
+    And a physician; your bride, I fear,
+    Instead of epithalamions shall need
+    A dirge or epitaph. O, lead me in:
+    My body dies for my soul's perjur'd sin.
+                     [_Exeunt_ MAID, GRACE, WIFE, HUSBAND, SUBTLE.
+
+    BOLD. Hymen comes towards us in a mourning robe.
+
+    WELL. I hope, friend, we shall have the better day.
+
+    PROUDLY. I'll fetch the parson and physician.
+                                             [_Exit_ LORD PROUDLY.
+
+    BRO. They are both ready for you.             [_Exit_ BROTHER.
+
+    WELL. Madam, this is the gentlewoman
+    Who, something bashful, does desire your pardon,
+    That she does not unmask.
+
+    WID. Good Master Welltried,
+    I would not buy her face; and for her manners,
+    If they were worse, they shall not displease me.
+
+    WELL. I thank your ladyship.
+
+FEE. Look how the old ass, my father, stands: he looks like the bear in
+the play; he has killed the lady with his very sight.[137] As God help
+me, I have the most to do to forbear unmasking me, that I might tell him
+his own, as can be.
+
+    BOLD. Fie! by no means. The widow comes towards you.
+
+    COUNT. O, O, O, O!
+
+    WID. Servant, God give you joy; and, gentlewoman
+    Or lady, as full joy I wish to you:
+    Nor doubt that I will hinder you your love,
+    But here am come to do all courtesy
+    To your fair self, and husband that shall be.
+
+    FEE. I thank you heartily.
+
+    WELL. 'Sheart! speak smaller, man.
+
+    FEE. I thank you heartily.
+
+    COUNT. You're going to this gear too, Master Bold?
+    Um, um, um!
+
+    BOLD. Not to your coughing[138] gear,
+    My lord. Though I be not so old or rich
+    As your lordship, yet I love a young wench as well.
+
+    WELL. As well as my lord? nay by my faith,
+    That you do not love a young wench as well as he:
+    I wonder you will be unmannerly to say so.
+
+COUNT. Faith, Master Welltried, troth is I love them well, but they love
+not me, um, um. You see what ill-luck I have with them, um, um. A pox o'
+this cold, still say I.
+
+WELL. Where got you this cold, my lord? it can get in nowhere, that I
+can see, but at your nostrils or eyes; all the other parts are so
+barricadoed with fur.
+
+    FEE. It got
+    In at his eyes, and made that birdlime there,
+    Where Cupid's wings do hang entangled.
+
+    COUNT. Is this your wife, that, um, um, um--shall be?
+    Master Bold, I'll be so bold as kiss her.
+                                [WIDOW _and_ BOLD _whisper aside_.
+
+FEE. Sir, forbear: I have one bold enough to kiss my lips. O old
+coxcomb! kiss thine own natural son: 'tis worse than a Justice's lying
+with his own daughter. But, Master Welltried, when will the widow break
+this matter to me? [COUNT _sits in a chair, and falls asleep_.
+
+WELL. Not till the very close of all: she dissembles it yet, because my
+lord, your father, is here, and her other suitor Bold.
+
+    FEE. That's all one; he's o' th' plot o' my side.
+
+    WID. 'Tis needless, Master Bold; but I will do
+    Anything you require to satisfy you.
+    Why should you doubt I will forbid the banns,
+    For so your friend here told me? I should rather
+    Doubt that you will not marry.
+
+    BOLD. Madam, by heaven,
+    As fully I am resolv'd to marry now,
+    And will too, if you do not hinder it,
+    As ever lover was; only because
+    The world has taken notice of some passage
+    'Twixt you and me, and then to satisfy
+    My sweetheart here, who (poor soul!) is afraid,
+    To have some public disgrace put upon her,
+    I do require some small thing at your hands.
+
+    WID. Well, I will do it; and this profess besides;
+    Married, you shall as welcome be to me
+    As mine own brother; and yourself, fair lady,
+    Even as myself, both to my board and bed.
+
+    WELL. Ah, ah! how like you that?
+
+    FEE. Now she begins.
+    Abundant thanks unto your widowhood.
+    Zounds! my father's asleep on's wedding-day:
+    I wonder'd, where his cough was all this while.
+
+_Enter_ INGEN, _like a doctor: a_ PARSON, BROTHER, LORD PROUDLY, SELDOM,
+MISTRESS SELDOM, HUSBAND, WIFE, _and_ SUBTLE.
+
+    INGEN. I pray, forbear the chamber: noise does hurt her;
+    Her sickness I guess rather of the mind
+    Than of her body, for her pulse beats well;
+    Her vital functions not decay'd a whit,
+    But have their natural life and operation.
+    My lord, be cheer'd, I have an ingredient
+    About me shall make her well, I doubt not.
+    In, master parson: it shall be yours to[139] pray;
+    The soul's physician should have still the way.
+                           [_Exit_ INGEN; PARSON _shuts the door_.
+
+    WID. How cheers she, pray?
+
+    WIFE. In troth, exceeding ill.
+
+    MRS SEL. A very weak woman indeed she is, and surely I think cannot
+    'scape it.
+
+    HUS. Did you mark how she eyed the physician?
+
+    WIFE. O God, ay, she is very loth to die.
+
+    MRS SEL. Ay; that's ne'er the better sign, I can tell you.
+
+    SUB. And when the parson came to her, she turned
+    Away, and still let the physician hold
+    Her by the hand.
+
+    BOLD. But see what thought the bridegroom takes.
+    My conscience knows, now, this is
+    A most preposterous match; yet for the commodity,
+    We wink at all inconveniency.
+    My lord! my lord!
+
+COUNT. Um, um, um! I beshrew you for waking of me; now shall I have such
+a fit of coughing, um, um!--
+
+BOLD. O hapless wife, that shall have thee, that either must let thee
+sleep continually, or be kept waking herself by the cough.
+
+WID. You have a proper gentleman to your son, my lord: he were fitter
+for this young lady than you.
+
+WELL. D'ye mark that again?
+
+FEE. O sweet widow!
+
+COUNT. He a wife! he a fool's head of his own.
+
+FEE. No, of my father's.
+
+COUNT. What should he do with a ---- um, um!
+
+WIFE. What, with a cough? why, he would spit, and that's more than you
+can do.
+
+PROUDLY. Your bride, my lord, is dead.
+
+COUNT. Marry, ev'n God be with her; grief will not help it: um, um, um!
+
+    BRO. A most excellent spouse.
+
+    PROUDLY. How fares she, master doctor?
+    Zounds! what's here?
+
+    BOLD, WID., WELL., FEE. Heyday!
+
+    HUS., WIFE, SEL., MRS SEL., SUB. How now?
+                                      [_Looking in at the window._
+
+FEE. Look, look! the parson joins the doctor's hand and hers: now the
+doctor kisses her, by this light! [_Omnes whoop._] Now goes his gown
+off. Heyday! he has red breeches on. Zounds! the physician is got o' th'
+top of her: belike, it is the mother she has. Hark! the bed creaks.[140]
+
+PROUDLY. 'Sheart, the door's fast! break 'em open! We are betrayed.
+
+    BRO. No breaking open doors: he that stirs first,
+                                  [_Draws and holds out a pistol._
+    I'll pop a leaden pill into his guts,
+    Shall purge him quite away. No haste, good friends:
+    When they have done what's fit, you shall not need
+    To break the door; they'll open it themselves.
+
+                       [_A curtain drawn, a bed discovered:_ INGEN
+                        _with his sword in his hand and a pistol:
+                         the lady in her petticoat: the_ PARSON.
+
+    PROUDLY. Thy blood, base villain, shall answer this.
+                                 [_The brothers set back to back._
+    I'll dye thy nuptial bed in thy heart's gore.
+
+    INGEN. Come, come, my lord; 'tis not so easily done.
+    You know it is not. Forgive[141] this my attempt
+    Upon your sister; before God and man
+    She was my wife, and ne'er a bedrid gout
+    Shall have my wench to get diseases on.
+
+    PROUDLY. Well may'st thou term her so, that has consented
+    Even with her will to be dishonoured.
+
+    INGEN. Not so, yet have I lain with her--
+
+    MAID. But first,
+    Witness this priest, we both were married.
+
+    PRIEST. True it is, Domine;
+    Their contract's run into a marriage,
+    And that, my lord, into a carriage.
+
+    PROUDLY. I will undo thee, priest.
+
+    PRIEST. It is too late. I am undone
+    Already [by] wine and tobacco. I defy thee,
+    Thou temporal lord: perdy, thou never shalt
+    Keep me in jail, and hence springs my reason:
+    My act is neither felony nor treason.
+
+    FEE. Ay, sir; but you do not know what kindred she may have.
+
+    OMNES. Come, come, there is no remedy.
+
+    WIFE. And weigh't right,
+    In my opinion, my honour'd lord,
+    And everybody's else, this is a match,
+    Fitter ten thousand times than your intent.
+
+    OMNES. Most certain 'tis.
+
+    WID. Besides, this gentleman
+    Your brother-in-law['s] well-parted and fair-mean'd;
+    And all this come about (you must conceive)
+    By your own sister's wit, as well as his.
+
+    INGEN. Come, come, 'tis but getting of me knighted, my lord, and I
+    shall become your brother well enough.
+
+    PROUDLY. Brother, your hand. Lords may have projects still,
+    But there's a greater Lord will have his will.
+
+    BOLD. This is despatch, Now, madam, is the time,
+    For I long to be at it. Your hand, sweetheart.
+
+    FEE. Now, boys.
+
+    WID. My lord and gentlemen, I crave your witness,
+    To what I now shall utter. 'Twixt this gentleman and myself
+    There have been some love-passages, from which
+    Here I do free him, and [he] take this lady----[142]
+
+    WELL. La ye! and pray him take this lady.
+
+    WID. Which with a mother's love I give to him,
+    And wish all joy may crown their marriage.
+
+    BOLD. Nay, madam, yet she is not satisfied.
+           [BOLD _gives her a ring, and she puts it on her thumb_.
+
+    WID. Further, before ye all I take this ring,
+    As an assumpsit, by the virtue of which
+    I bind myself in all my lands and goods,
+    That in his choice I'll be no hindrance;
+    Or by forbidding banns, or claiming him
+    Myself for mine, but let the match go on
+    Without my check, which he intendeth now:
+    And once again I say, I bind myself.
+
+    BOLD. Then, once again I say, widow, thou'rt mine!
+    Priest, marry us: this match I did intend:
+    Ye all are witnesses; if thou hinder it,
+    Widow, your lands and goods are forfeit mine.
+
+    WID. Ha! nay, take me too, since there's no remedy.
+    Your widow (without goods) sells scurvily.
+
+    OMNES. Whoop! God give you joy.
+
+COUNT. 'Slight! I am cosened of all sides; I had good hope of the widow
+myself; but now I see everybody leaves me, saving um, um, um!
+
+    BOLD. Troth, my lord, and that will stick by you, I warrant.
+
+    WID. But how, sir, shall we salve this gentlewoman?
+
+    BOLD. Hang her, whore.
+
+    WELL. Fie! you are too uncivil.
+
+    FEE. Whore in thy face, I do defy thy taunts.
+
+    BOLD. Nay, hold, fair lady: now I think upon't,
+    The old Count has no wife; let's make a match.
+
+    OMNES. If he be so contented.
+
+    COUNT. With all my heart.
+
+    BOLD. Then kiss your spouse.
+
+    COUNT. 'Sfoot! she has a beard. How now! my son?
+
+    OMNES. 'Tis the Lord Feesimple!          [FEESIMPLE _unmasks_.
+
+FEE. Father, lend me your sword. You and I are made a couple of fine
+fools, are we not? If I were not valiant now, and meant to beat 'em all,
+here would lie a simple disgrace upon us, a Feesimple one, indeed. Mark
+now, what I'll say to 'em. D'ye hear me, my masters? Damn me, ye are all
+the son of a whore, and ye lie, and I will make it good with my sword.
+This is called roaring, father.
+
+    SUB. I'll not meddle with you, sir.
+
+    PROUDLY. You are my blood.
+
+    WELL. And I flesh'd you, you know.
+
+    BOLD. And I have a charge coming, I must not fight now.
+
+    FEE. Has either of you anything to say to me?
+
+    HUS. Not we, sir.
+
+    FEE. Then have I something to say to you.
+    Have you anything to say to me?
+
+    BRO. Yes, marry have I, sir.
+
+FEE. Then I have nothing to say to you, for that's the fashion. Father,
+if you will come away with your cough, do. Let me see, how many
+challenges I must get writ. You shall hear on me, believe it.
+
+    PROUDLY. Nay, we'll not now part angry: stay the feasts,
+    That must attend the weddings. You shall stay.
+
+FEE. Why, then, all friends. I thought you would not have had the
+manners to bid us stay dinner neither.
+
+    HUS. Then all are friends: and lady-wife, I crown
+    Thy virtues with this wreath, that 't may be said,
+    There's a good wife.
+
+    BOLD. A widow.
+
+    INGEN. And a maid.        [_They set garlands on their heads._
+
+    WIFE. Yet mine is now approv'd the happiest life,
+    Since each of you hath chang'd to be a wife.        [_Exeunt._
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+  [132] [Edits., _in_.]
+
+  [133] _Readiness_, second edit.
+
+  [134] Ovid. "Amor." lib. i. el. 5.
+
+  [135] In the old copies, by an error, act v. is said again to begin
+  here; it is in fact the second scene of the last act.
+
+  [136] The old stage direction states that Subtle enters, _with a
+  letter_, but the words have been misplaced, and should have followed
+  _Brother_, who delivers it to the Lady Honour.
+
+  [137] This refers, no doubt, to the scene in the old "most pleasant
+  comedy of 'Mucedorus,'" 1598, when Amadine is pursued by the bear,
+  [vii. 208.]
+
+  [138] Old copies, _couching_.
+
+  [139] Edits., _I_.
+
+  [140] In the margin, opposite what Feesimple says, are inserted the
+  words _Pistols for Bro._, meaning merely to remind the keeper of the
+  properties that at this point it was necessary that Frank, the
+  brother, should be provided with pistols.
+
+  [141] [Edits., _For_.]
+
+  [142] Old copies read--
+
+                             "'Twixt this gentleman
+      There have been some love-passages, and myself,
+      Which here I free him, and take this lady."
+
+
+
+
+GREEN'S TU QUOQUE;
+
+OR,
+
+THE CITY GALLANT.
+
+
+
+
+_EDITIONS._
+
+
+(1.) _Greenes Tu quoque, Or, the Cittie Gallant. As it hath beene diuers
+times acted by the Queenes Maiesties Seruants. Written by Io. Cooke
+Gent. Printed at London for Iohn Trundle. 1614. 4º. Woodcut on title._
+
+(2.) _Greenes Tu quoque, Or the Cittie Gallant ... Printed at London for
+Thomas Dewe and are to be sold at his Shop in Saint Dunstons Church-yard
+in Fleetstreet. 1622. 4º._
+
+(3.) _Greenes Tu Quoque, Or, the Cittie Gallant. As it hath beene divers
+times acted by the Queenes Majesties Servants. Written by Jo. Cooke
+Gent. Printed at London by M. Flesher. 4º_.[143]
+
+  [143] This edition, without a date, was obviously printed after that
+  of 1614, although it has been hitherto placed first on the list of
+  editions, as if it might be that mentioned by Chetwood, and supposed
+  to have been published in 1599.--_Collier._ [Mr Collier does not cite
+  the 4º of 1622.]
+
+
+
+
+INTRODUCTION.
+
+
+John Cook, the author of this play, is totally unknown. No contemporary
+writer has taken the least notice of him, nor has any biographer since
+given the slightest account of his life. All that we are informed of is,
+that he wrote the following dramatic performance. Langbaine,[144] and
+the writers since, ascribe the first title of it to the excellent
+performance of Thomas Green in the part of Bubble, whose universal
+repartee to all compliments is _Tu quoque_. Green was both a writer and
+actor,[145] and with great probability[146] is supposed to have been a
+relation of Shakespeare's, and the person by whom he was introduced to
+the theatre. He was born at Stratford-upon-Avon, which is ascertained by
+the following lines,[147] spoken by him in one of the old comedies, in
+the character of a clown:--
+
+    "I prattled poesy in my nurse's arms,
+    And, born where late our swan of Avon sung,
+    In Avon's streams we both of us have lav'd,
+    And both came out together."
+
+This passage is quoted by Chetwood from the "Two Maids of Moreclack,"
+where it is not to be found, though it seems to be a genuine extract;
+and the writer, by whom it was produced, had perhaps forgotten whence he
+transcribed it. Heywood, who published this play, says in the preface to
+it:--"As for Master Greene, all that I will speak of him (and that
+without flattery) is this: there was not an actor of his nature in his
+time of better ability in performance of what he undertook, more
+applauded by the audience, of greater grace at the court, or of more
+general love in the city." From this preface it appears Green was dead
+when it was written, and Oldys[148] says there are three epitaphs upon
+him in Braithwaite's "Remains after Death," 1618, by which it seems that
+he died after being newly arrived from sea.[149] He was the author of "A
+Poets Vision and a Princes Glorie. Dedicated to the high and mightie
+Prince James, King of England, Scotland, France, and Ireland," 4º,
+1603; and some verses prefixed to [the reprint in octavo of] Drayton's
+poem on the Barons' Wars. I have seen only two editions of this comedy,
+one without a date, and the other in 1614, which I apprehend was about
+the time it was originally published. Chetwood, upon whom no dependence
+is to be had with respect to dates, asserts it was printed in 1599.[150]
+As it is said to have been acted by the Queen's servants, it probably
+appeared on the stage in the reign of Queen Elizabeth. [There is an
+entry in the office-book of the Master of the Revels under date of
+Twelfth Night, 1624, showing that "the masque being put off, and the
+Prince only there," Tu Quoque, "by the Queen of Bohemia's servants, was
+acted in its stead."[151]] Langbaine says it was revived after the
+Restoration at the theatre in Little Lincoln's-Inn-Fields.
+
+"Green's Tu Quoque" is mentioned in "The World's Folly," by I. H., 1615,
+which contains a general attack on the stage. It would also seem, from
+the subsequent passage, as if Green the actor had performed the part of
+a baboon:--
+
+"'Vos quoque' *[or, 'Tu quoque,' opposite the asterisk in the margin]
+and you also who, with Scylla-barking, Stentor-throated bellowings,
+flash-choaking squibbles of absurd vanities into the nosthrils of your
+spectators; barbarously diverting nature and defacing Gods owne image by
+metamorphosing humane shape* [_Greenes Baboon_ in the margin opposite
+the asterisk] into bestiall forme."
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+  [144] P. 73.
+
+  [145] He was an actor at the Red Bull Theatre, as appears by a rather
+  curious scene in the course of this play, where Green is spoken of by
+  name--
+
+      "GERALDINE. Why then we'll go to the Red Bull: they say Green's
+      a good clown.
+
+      BUBBLE. Green! Green's an ass.
+
+      SCATTERGOOD. Wherefore do you say so?
+
+      BUBBLE. Indeed. I ha' no reason; for they say he is as like me
+      as ever he can look."
+
+  There seems every probability that the play when originally produced
+  had some other title, until the excellence of Green's performance, and
+  his mode of delivering _Tu quoque_, gave it his name. It could
+  scarcely be brought out in the first instance under the appellation of
+  "Green's 'Tu Quoque,'" before it was known how it would succeed, and
+  how his acting would tell in the part of Bubble. In this respect
+  perhaps Langbaine was mistaken.--_Collier._ [It appears likely that
+  the title under which the piece was originally brought on the stage
+  was simply _The City Gallant_.]
+
+  [146] "Attempt to Ascertain the Order of Shakespeare's Plays," by Mr
+  Malone, p. 275. [See Dyce's "Shakespeare," 1868, i. 114, 115. There
+  seems to be some confusion between two persons of the name of Green,
+  living at this time, one an actor and the author of a little poem
+  printed in 1603, the other a relation to Shakespeare, and clerk to the
+  corporation of Stratford.]
+
+  [147] "The British Theatre," p. 9.
+
+  [148] MSS. additions to Langbaine, p. 73.
+
+  [149] The following are the epitaphs mentioned by Oldys, from
+  Braithwaite's Remains--
+
+  "_Upon an actor now of late deceased: and upon his action Tu Quoque:
+  and first upon his travel._
+
+        Hee whom this mouldered clod of earth doth hide,
+        New come from sea, made but one face and dide.
+
+    _Upon his creditors._
+
+        His debtors now no fault with him can finde,
+        Sith he has paid to nature all's behinde.
+
+    _Upon his fellow actors._
+
+        What can you crave of your poore fellow more?
+        He does but what _Tu Quoque_ did before:
+        Then give him dying, actions second wreath,
+        That second'd him in action and in death."
+
+    In actorem Mimicum cui vix parem cernimus superstitem.
+            _Quæcunque orta sunt occidunt_. Sallust.
+
+        Ver vireat quod te peperit (viridissima proles)
+          Quæque tegit cineres, ipsa virescat humus.
+        Transis ab exiguis nunquam periture theatris
+          Ut repetas sacri pulchra theatru Jovis
+
+  --"Remains after Death," 8vo. 1618, Sig. G 5.
+
+  [150] Heywood speaks of it as "just published in print." The date of
+  his epistle "to the Reader," however, may be older than 1614, the year
+  of the earliest printed copy now known.--_Collier._ [Heywood merely
+  says that he was "in the way just when this play was to be published
+  in print."]
+
+  [151] [Mr Collier's addition.]
+
+
+
+
+TO THE READER
+
+
+To gratulate the love and memory of my worthy friend the author, and my
+entirely beloved fellow the actor, I could not choose, being in the way
+just when this play was to be published in print, but to prefix some
+token of my affection to either in the frontispiece of the book. For the
+gentleman that wrote it, his poem itself can better speak his praise
+than any oratory from me. Nor can I tell whether this work was divulged
+with his consent or no; but, howsoever, it hath passed the test of the
+stage with so general an applause, pity it were but it should likewise
+have the honour of the press. As for Master Green, all that I will speak
+of him (and that without flattery) is this (if I were worthy to
+censure), there was not an actor of his nature, in his time, of better
+ability in performance of what he undertook, more applauded by the
+audience, of greater grace at the court, or of more general love in the
+city: and so with this brief character of his memory I commit him to his
+rest.
+
+THOMAS HEYWOOD.
+
+
+UPON THE DEATH OF THOMAS GREEN.
+
+    How fast bleak Autumn changeth Flora's dye!
+    What yesterday was Green, now's sear and dry.
+
+    W.R.[152]
+
+  [152] Probably William Rowley.
+
+
+
+
+DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.
+
+
+    SIR LIONEL RASH.}    {  FOX.
+    OLD GERALDINE.  }    {  GATHERSCRAP.
+    GERALDINE.      }    {  BASKETHILT.
+    WILL RASH.      }    {  SPRINKLE.
+    SPENDALL.       }    {  PRISONERS.
+    STAINES.        }    {  DRAWERS, _&c._
+    BUBBLE.         }    {
+    LONGFIELD.       }  {   WOMEN.
+    BALANCE.        }    {
+    SCATTERGOOD.    }    {  GERTRUDE.
+    NINNIHAMMER.    }    {  JOYCE.
+    MASTER BLANK.   }    {  PHILLIS.
+    PURSENET.       }    {  WIDOW.
+    LODGE.          }    {  SWEATMAN, _a bawd_.
+    HOLDFAST.       }    {  NAN TICKLEMAN, _a whore_.
+
+
+
+
+THE CITY GALLANT.
+
+
+    _A mercer's shop discovered_, GERTRUDE _working in it;_ SPENDALL
+    _walking by the shop_. MASTER BALANCE _walking over the stage.
+    After him_ LONGFIELD _and_ GERALDINE.
+
+SPEND. What lack you, sir? fair stuffs or velvets?
+
+BAL. Good morrow, Frank.
+
+SPEND. Good morrow, Master Balance.
+
+GERA. Save you, Master Longfield.
+
+LONG. And you, sir. What business draws you towards this end o' th'
+town?
+
+GERA. Faith, no great serious affairs; only a stirring humour to walk,
+and partly to see the beauties of the city: but it may be you can
+instruct me. Pray, whose shop's this?
+
+LONG. Why, 'tis Will Rash's father's: a man you are well acquainted
+with.
+
+_Enter a_ WENCH _with a basket of linen_.
+
+GERA. As with yourself: and is that his sister?
+
+LONG. Marry, is it, sir?
+
+GERA. Pray, let us walk: I would behold her better.
+
+WENCH. Buy some coifs, handkerchiefs, or very good bonelace, mistress?
+
+GERT. None.
+
+WENCH. Will you buy any handkerchiefs, sir?
+
+SPEND. Yes. Have you any fine ones?
+
+WENCH. I'll show you choice: please you look, sir?
+
+SPEND. How now! what news?
+
+WENCH. Mistress Tickleman has sent you a letter, and expects your
+company at night: and entreats you to send her an angel, whether you can
+come, or whether you cannot.
+
+                                                      [SPENDALL _reads_.
+
+_Sweet rascal; if your love be as earnest as your protestation, you will
+meet me this night at supper: you know the rendezvous. There will be
+good company; a noise of choice fiddlers;[153] a fine boy with an
+excellent voice; very good songs, and bawdy; and, which is more, I do
+purpose myself to be exceeding merry; but if you come not, I shall pout
+myself sick, and not eat one bit to-night,_
+
+    _Your continual close friend_,
+      NAN TICKLEMAN.
+
+    _I pray send me an angel by the bearer, whether
+          ye can come, or whether ye cannot._
+
+SPEND. What's the price of these two?
+
+WENCH. Half a crown, in truth.
+
+SPEND. Hold thee; there's an angel, and commend me to my delight; tell
+her I will not fail her, though I lose my freedom by't. [_Aside._
+
+WENCH. I thank you, sir. Buy any fine handkerchiefs?
+
+                                                    [_Exit_ WENCH.
+
+LONG. You are taken, sir, extremely: what's the object?
+
+GERA. She's wondrous fair.
+
+LONG. Nay, and your thoughts be on wenching, I'll leave you.
+
+    GERA. You shall not be so unfriendly; pray, assist me:
+    We'll to the shop, and cheapen stuffs or satins.
+
+SPEND. What lack you, gentlemen? fine stuffs, velvets, or satins? pray,
+come near.
+
+GERA. Let me see a good satin.
+
+SPEND. You shall, sir. What colour?
+
+GERA. Faith, I am indifferent. What colour most affects you, lady?
+
+GERT. Sir!
+
+GERA. Without offence, fair creature, I demand it.
+
+    GERT. Sir, I believe it; but I never did
+    Tie my affection unto any colour.
+
+    GERA. But my affection, fairest, is fast tied
+    Unto the crimson colour of your cheek.
+
+GERT. You relish too much courtier, sir.
+
+LONG. What's the price of this?
+
+SPEND. Fifteen,[154] indeed, sir.
+
+LONG. You set a high rate on't; it had need be good.
+
+SPEND. Good! if you find a better i' th' town, I'll give you mine for
+nothing. If you were my own brother, I'd put it into your hands. Look
+upon't; 'tis close-wrought, and has an excellent gloss.
+
+LONG. Ay, I see't.
+
+SPEND. Pray, sir, come into the next room: I'll show you that of a lower
+price shall perhaps better please you.
+
+LONG. This fellow has an excellent tongue: sure, he was brought up in
+the Exchange.
+
+SPEND. Will you come in, sir?
+
+LONG. No; 'tis no matter, for I mean to buy none.
+
+GERA. Prythee, walk in; what you bargain for, I'll discharge.
+
+    LONG. Say so? fall to your work, I'll be your chapman.
+                                    [_Exeunt_ SPENDALL, LONGFIELD.
+
+    GERA. Why do you say I flatter?
+
+    GERT. Why! you do;
+    And so do all men when they women woo.
+
+    GERA. Who looks on heaven, and not admires the work?
+    Who views a well-cut diamond does not praise
+    The beauty of the stone? if these deserve
+    The name of excellent, I lack a word
+    For thee, which merit'st more--
+    More than the tongue of man can attribute.
+
+    GERT. This is pretty poetry: good fiction, this.
+    Sir, I must leave you.
+
+    GERA. Leave with me first some comfort.
+
+    GERT. What would you crave?
+
+    GERA. That which I fear you will not let me have.
+
+    GERT. You do not know my bounty. Say what 'tis?
+
+    GERA. No more, fair creature, than a modest kiss.
+
+    GERT. If I should give you one, would you refrain,
+    On that condition, ne'er to beg again?
+
+    GERA. I dare not grant to that.
+
+    GERT. Then't seems you have,
+    Though you get nothing, a delight to crave.
+    One will not hurt my lip, which you may take,
+    Not for your love, but for your absence sake.
+    So farewell, sir.                            [_Exit_ GERTRUDE.
+
+    GERA. O, fare thee well, fair regent of my soul!
+    Never let ill sit near thee, unless it come
+    To purge itself. Be, as thou ever seemest,
+    An angel of thy sex, born to make happy
+    The man that shall possess thee for his bride.
+
+_Enter_ SPENDALL _and_ LONGFIELD.
+
+SPEND. Will you have it for thirteen shillings and sixpence? I'll fall
+to as low a price as I can, because I'll buy your custom.
+
+LONG. How now, man? what, entranced?
+
+GERA. Good sir, ha' you done?
+
+LONG. Yes, faith, I think as much as you, and 'tis just nothing. Where's
+the wench?
+
+GERA. She's here, sir, here.
+
+                                           [_Points to his heart._
+
+LONG. Ud's pity! unbutton, man, thou'lt stifle her else.
+
+GERA. Nay, good sir, will you go?
+
+LONG. With all my heart; I stay but for you.
+
+SPEND. Do you hear, sir?
+
+LONG. What say you?
+
+SPEND. Will you take it for thirteen?
+
+LONG. Not a penny more than I bid. [_Exeunt_ GERALDINE _and_ LONGFIELD.
+
+SPEND. Why, then, say you might have had a good bargain. Where's this
+boy to make up the wares? Here's some ten pieces opened, and all to no
+purpose.
+
+_Enter_ BOY.
+
+BOY. O Frank! shut up shop, shut up shop!
+
+SPEND. Shut up shop, boy? Why?
+
+BOY. My master is come from the court knighted, and bid us; for he says
+he will have the first year of the reign of his knighthood kept holiday:
+here he comes.
+
+_Enter_ SIR LIONEL RASH.
+
+SPEND. God give your worship joy, sir.
+
+SIR L. RASH. O Frank! I have the worship now in the right kind; the
+sword of my knighthood sticks still upon my shoulders, and I feel the
+blow in my purse; it has cut two leather bags asunder. But all's one,
+honour must be purchased. I will give over my city coat, and betake
+myself to the court jacket. As for trade, I will deal in't no longer; I
+will seat thee in my shop, and it shall be thy care to ask men what
+they lack: my stock shall be summed up, and I will call thee to an
+account for it.
+
+    SPEND. My service, sir, never deserved so much;
+    Nor could I ever hope so large a bounty
+    Could spring out of your love.
+
+    SIR L. RASH. That's all one.
+    I do love to do things beyond men's hopes.
+    To-morrow I remove into the Strand:
+    There for this quarter dwell, the next at Fulham.
+    He that hath choice, may shift; the whilst shalt thou
+    Be master of this house, and rent it free.
+
+    SPEND. I thank you, sir.
+
+    SIR L. RASH. To-day I'll go dine with my Lord Mayor,
+    To-morrow with the sheriffs, and next day
+    With th' aldermen. I will spread the ensign
+    Of my knighthood over the face of the city,
+    Which shall strike as great a terror to my enemies
+    As ever Tamerlane [did] to the Turks.
+    Come, Frank, come in with me, and see the meat,
+    Upon the which my knighthood first shall eat. [_Exeunt omnes._
+
+_Enter_ STAINES.
+
+STAINES. There is a devil has haunted me these three years, in likeness
+of an usurer: a fellow that in all his life never ate three groat loaves
+out of his own purse, nor ever warmed him but at other men's fires;
+never saw a joint of mutton in his own house these four-and-twenty
+years, but always cosened the poor prisoners, for he always bought his
+victuals out of the alms-basket; and yet this rogue now feeds upon
+capons, which my tenants send him out of the country; he is landlord,
+forsooth, over all my possessions. Well, I am spent; and this rogue has
+consumed me. I dare not walk abroad to see my friends, for fear the
+serjeants should take acquaintance of me: my refuge is Ireland or
+Virginia:[155] necessity cries out, and I will presently to West
+Chester.
+
+_Enter_ BUBBLE.
+
+    How now, Bubble! hast thou pack'd up all thy things?
+    Our parting-time is come: nay, prythee, do not weep.
+
+BUB. Affection, sir, will burst out.
+
+STAINES. Thou hast been a faithful servant to me. Go to thy uncle, he'll
+give thee entertainment: tell him, upon the stony rock of his merciless
+heart my fortunes suffer shipwreck.
+
+BUB. I will tell him he is an usuring rascal, and one that would do the
+commonwealth good if he were hanged.
+
+STAINES. Which thou hast cause to wish for; thou art his heir, my
+affectionate Bubble.
+
+BUB. But, master, wherefore should we be parted?
+
+STAINES. Because my fortunes are desperate, thine are hopeful.
+
+BUB. Why, but whither do you mean to go, master?
+
+STAINES. Why, to sea.
+
+BUB. To sea! Lord bless us, methinks I hear of a tempest already. But
+what will you do at sea?
+
+STAINES. Why, as other gallants do that are spent, turn pirate.
+
+BUB. O master, have the grace of Wapping before your eyes, remember a
+high tide;[156] give not your friends cause to wet their handkerchiefs.
+Nay, master, I'll tell you a better course than so; you and I will go
+and rob my uncle; if we 'scape, we'll domineer together; if we be taken,
+we'll be hanged together at Tyburn; that's the warmer gallows of the
+two.
+
+_Enter_ MESSENGER.
+
+MES. By your leave, sir, whereabouts dwells one Master Bubble?
+
+BUB. Do you hear, my friend? do you know Master Bubble, if you do see
+him?
+
+MES. No, in truth, do I not.
+
+BUB. What is your business with Master Bubble?
+
+MES. Marry, sir, I come with welcome news to him.
+
+BUB. Tell it, my friend: I am the man.
+
+MES. May I be assured, sir, that your name is Master Bubble?
+
+BUB. I tell thee, honest friend, my name is Master Bubble, Master
+Bartholomew Bubble.
+
+MES. Why then, sir, you are heir to a million; for your uncle, the rich
+usurer, is dead.
+
+BUB. Pray thee, honest friend, go to the next haberdasher's, and bid him
+send me a new melancholy hat, and take thou that for thy labour.
+
+    MES. I will, sir.                                     [_Exit._
+
+_Enter another_ MESSENGER _hastily, and knocks_.
+
+BUB. Umh. umh, umh!
+
+STAINES. I would the news were true: see how my little Bubble is blown
+up with't!
+
+BUB. Do you hear, my friend; for what do you knock there?
+
+2D MES. Marry, sir, I would speak with the worshipful Master Bubble.
+
+BUB. The worshipful! and what would you do with the worshipful Master
+Bubble? I am the man.
+
+2D MES. I cry your worship mercy then: Master Thong, the belt-maker,
+sent me to your worship, to give you notice that your uncle is dead, and
+that you are his only heir. [_Exit._
+
+    BUB. Thy news is good, and I have look'd for't long;
+    Thanks unto thee, my friend, and goodman Thong.
+
+_Enter_ MASTER BLANK.
+
+STAINES. Certainly this news is true; for see another: by this light,
+his scrivener! Now, Master Blank, whither away so fast?
+
+BLANK. Master Staines, God save you. Where is your man?
+
+STAINES. Why, look you, sir; do you not see him?
+
+BLANK. God save the right worshipful Master Bubble; I bring you heavy
+news with a light heart.
+
+BUB. What are you?
+
+BLANK. I am your worship's poor scrivener.
+
+BUB. He is an honest man, it seems, for he hath both his ears.
+
+BLANK. I am one that your worship's uncle committed some trust in for
+the putting out of his money, and I hope I shall have the putting out of
+yours.
+
+BUB. The putting out of mine! Would you have the putting out of my
+money?
+
+BLANK. Yea, sir.
+
+BUB. No, sir, I am old enough to put out my own money.
+
+BLANK. I have writings of your worship's.
+
+STAINES. As thou lov'st thy profit, hold thy tongue; thou and I will
+confer. [_Aside._]
+
+BUB. Do you hear, my friend? Can you tell me when and how my uncle died?
+
+BLANK. Yes, sir; he died this morning, and he was killed by a butcher.
+
+BUB. How! by a butcher?
+
+BLANK. Yes indeed, sir; for going this morning into the market to
+cheapen meat, he fell down stark dead, because a butcher asked him four
+shillings for a shoulder of mutton.
+
+BUB. How, stark dead! and could not _aqua vitæ_ fetch him again?
+
+BLANK. No, sir; nor _rosa solis_ neither; and yet there was trial made
+of both.
+
+BUB. I shall love _aqua vitæ_ and _rosa solis_ the better while I live.
+
+                                                         [_Aside._
+
+STAINES. Will it please your worship to accept of my poor service? you
+know my case is desperate; I beseech you that I may feed upon your
+bread, though it be of the brownest, and drink of your drink, though it
+may be of the smallest; for I am humble in body and dejected in mind,
+and will do your worship as good service for forty shillings a year as
+another shall for three pounds.
+
+BUB. I will not stand with you for such a matter, because you have been
+my master; but otherwise I will entertain no man without some knight's
+or lady's letter for their behaviour. Gervase, I take it, is your
+Christian name?
+
+STAINES. Yes, if it please your worship.
+
+BUB. Well, Gervase, be a good servant, and you shall find me a dutiful
+master; and because you have been a gentleman, I will entertain you for
+my tutor in behaviour. Conduct me to my palace.
+
+                                                  [_Exeunt omnes._
+
+_Enter_ GERALDINE, _as in his study, reading_.
+
+    GERA. _As little children love to play with fire,
+    And will not leave till they themselves do burn;
+    So did I fondly dally with desire,
+    Until love's flame grew hot; I could not turn,
+    Nor well avoid, but sigh, and sob, and mourn,
+    As children do, when as they feel the pain,
+    Till tender mothers kiss them whole again._
+    Fie! what unsavoury stuff is this! but she,
+    Whose mature judgment can distinguish things,
+    Will thus conceit: tales, that are harshest told,
+    Have smoothest meanings, and to speak are bold.
+    It is the first-born sonnet of my brain;
+    Why[157] suck'd a white leaf from my black-lipp'd pen
+    So sad employment?
+
+_Enter_ WILL RASH _and_ LONGFIELD.
+
+    Yet the dry paper drinks it up as deep,
+    As if it flow'd from Petrarch's cunning quill.
+
+W. RASH. How now! what have we here? a sonnet and a satire, coupled
+together like my lady's dog and her monkey?
+
+_As little children, &c._
+
+GERA. Prythee, away: by the deepest oath that can be sworn, thou shalt
+not read it; by our friendship I conjure thee! prythee, let go.
+
+W. RASH. Now, in the name of Cupid, what want'st thou? a pigeon, a dove,
+a mate, a turtle? Dost thou love fowl, ha?
+
+    _O no; she's fairer thrice than is the queen,_
+    _Who beauteous Venus called is by name._
+
+Prythee, let me know what she is thou lovest, that I may shun her if I
+should chance to meet her.
+
+LONG. Why, I'll tell you, sir, what she is, if you do not know.
+
+W. RASH. No, not I, I protest.
+
+LONG. Why, 'tis your sister.
+
+W. RASH. How! my sister?
+
+LONG. Yes, your eldest sister.
+
+W. RASH. Now God bless the man: he had better choose a wench that has
+been bred and born in an alley: her tongue is a perpetual motion;
+thought is not so swift as it is; and, for pride, the woman that had her
+ruff poked by the devil is but a puritan to her.[158] Thou couldst never
+have fastened thy affection on a worse subject; she'll flout faster
+than a court waiting-woman in progress[159]; any man that comes in the
+way of honesty does she set her mark upon, that is, a villanous jest;
+for she is a kind of poetess, and will make ballads upon the calves of
+your legs. I prythee, let her alone, she'll never make a good wife for
+any man, unless it be a leather-dresser; for perhaps he in time may turn
+her.
+
+    GERA. Thou hast a privilege to utter this:
+    But, by my life, my own blood could not 'scape
+    A chastisement for thus profaning her
+    Whose virtues sit above men's calumnies.
+    Had mine own brother spoke thus liberally,[160]
+    My fury should have taught him better manners.
+
+LONG. No more words, as you fear a challenge.
+
+W. RASH. I may tell thee in thine ear, I am glad to hear what I do; I
+pray God send her no worse husband, nor he no worse wife.
+
+    Do you hear, love, will you take your cloak and rapier,
+    And walk abroad into some wholesome air?
+    I do much fear thy infection: good counsel,
+    I see, will do no good on thee; but pursue the end,
+    And to thy thoughts I'll prove a faithful friend.   [_Exeunt._
+
+_Enter_ SPENDALL, NAN TICKLEMAN, SWEATMAN, PURSENET, _and a_ DRAWER.
+
+SPEND. Here's a spacious room to walk in: sirrah, set down the candle,
+and fetch us a quart of ipocras[161], and so we'll part.
+
+SWEAT. Nay, faith, son, we'll have a pottle; let's ne'er be covetous in
+our young days.
+
+SPEND. A pottle, sirrah; do you hear?
+
+DRAWER. Yes, sir, you shall.
+
+SPEND. How now, wench! how dost?
+
+TICKLE. Faith, I am somewhat sick; yet I should be well enough if I had
+a new gown.
+
+SPEND. Why, here's my hand; within these three days thou shalt have one.
+
+SWEAT. And will you, son, remember me for a new forepart? by my troth,
+my old one is worn so bare, I am ashamed anybody should see't.
+
+SPEND. Why, did I ever fail of my promise?
+
+SWEAT. No, in sincerity, didst thou not.
+
+_Enter_ DRAWER.
+
+    DRAWER. Here's a cup of rich ipocras.                 [_Exit._
+
+SPEND. Here, sister, mother, and Master Pursenet: nay, good sir, be not
+so dejected; for, by this wine, to-morrow I will send you stuff for a
+new suit, and as much as shall line you a cloak clean through.
+
+PURSE. I thank you, and shall study to deserve----
+
+SPEND. Here, boy, fill, and hang that curmudgeon, that's good for nobody
+but himself.
+
+PURSE. Heroicly spoken, by this candle! 'tis pity thou wert not made a
+lord.
+
+SPEND. A lord? by this light, I do not think but to be Lord Mayor of
+London before I die, and have three pageants carried before me, besides
+a ship and an unicorn. 'Prentices may pray for that time; for whenever
+it happens, I will make another Shrove Tuesday[162] for them.
+
+_Enter_ DRAWER.
+
+DRAWER. Young Master Rash has sent you a quart of Malaga[163].
+
+SPEND. Master Rash! zounds! how does he know that I am here?
+
+DRAWER. Nay, I know not, sir.
+
+SPEND. Know not! it comes through you and your rascally glib-tongued
+companions. 'Tis my master's son: a fine gentleman he is, and a boon
+companion: I must go see him.
+
+                                                 [_Exit_ SPENDALL.
+
+SWEAT. Boy, fill us a cup of your malaga, we'll drink to Master Spendall
+in his absence: there's not a finer spirit of a citizen within the
+walls. Here, Master Pursenet, you shall pledge him.
+
+PURSE. I'll not refuse it, were it puddle: by Styx, he is a bountiful
+gentleman, and I shall report him so. Here, Mistress Tickleman, shall I
+charge you?
+
+TICKLE. Do your worst, serjeant: I'll pledge my young Spendall a whole
+sea, as they say: fa, la, la, la, la! Would the music were here again; I
+do begin to be wanton. Ipocras, sirrah, and a dry biscuit! Here, bawd, a
+carouse!
+
+SWEAT. Bawd, i' faith! you begin to grow light i' the head. I pray no
+more such words; for, if you do, I shall grow into distempers.
+
+TICKLE. Distempers! hang your distempers; be angry with me, and thou
+dar'st. I pray, who feeds you, but I? who keeps thy feather-beds from
+the brokers, but I? 'tis not your sausage-face, thick, clouted[164]
+cream-rampallion[165] at home, that snuffles in the nose like a decayed
+bagpipe.
+
+PURSE. Nay, sweet Mistress Tickleman, be concordant; reverence
+antiquity.
+
+_Enter_ RASH, LONGFIELD, _and_ SPENDALL.
+
+RASH. Save you, sweet creatures of beauty, save you: how now, old
+Beelzebub, how dost thou?
+
+SWEAT. Beelzebub! Beelzebub in thy face!
+
+SPEND. Nay, good words, Mistress Sweatman: he's a young gallant; you
+must not weigh what he says.
+
+RASH. I would my lamentable complaining lover had been here: here had
+been a supersedeas for his melancholy; and, i' faith, Frank, I am glad
+my father has turned over his shop to thee. I hope I, or any friend of
+mine, shall have so much credit with thee, as to stand in thy books for
+a suit of satin.
+
+SPEND. For a whole piece, if you please; any friend of yours shall
+command me to the last remnant.
+
+RASH. Why, God-a-mercy, Frank; what, shall's to dice?
+
+SPEND. Dice or drink: here's forty crowns: as long as that will
+last--anything.
+
+RASH. Why, there spoke a gingling boy.
+
+SPEND. A pox of money! 'tis but rubbish; and he that hoards it up is but
+a scavenger. If there be cards i' the house, let's go to primero.
+
+RASH. Primero! why, I thought thou hadst not been so much gamester as to
+play at it.
+
+SPEND. Gamester! to say truth, I am none; but what is it I will not be
+in good company? I will fit myself to all humours; I will game with a
+gamester, drink with a drunkard, be civil with a citizen, fight with a
+swaggerer, and drab with a whoremaster.
+
+_Enter a_ SWAGGERER, _puffing_.
+
+RASH. An excellent humour, i' faith.
+
+LONG. Zounds! what have we here?
+
+SPEND. A land-porpoise, I think.
+
+RASH. This is no angry, nor no roaring boy, but a blustering boy: now,
+Æolus defend us! what puffs are these?
+
+SWAG. I do smell a whore.
+
+DRAWER. O gentlemen, give him good words; he's one of the roaring boys.
+
+SWAG. Rogue!
+
+DRAWER. Here, sir.
+
+SWAG. Take my cloak, I must unbuckle; my pickled oysters work; puff,
+puff!
+
+SPEND. Puff, puff!
+
+SWAG. Dost thou retort--in opposition stand?
+
+SPEND. Out, you swaggering rogue! zounds, I'll kick him out of the room!
+
+                                                [_Beats him away._
+
+TICKLE. Out, alas! their naked tools are out.
+
+SPEND. Fear not, sweetheart; come along with me. [_Exeunt omnes._
+
+_Enter_ GERTRUDE _sola_.
+
+    GERT. Thrice-happy days they were, and too soon gone,
+    When as the heart was coupled with the tongue;
+    And no deceitful flattery or guile
+    Hung on the lover's tear-commixed smile.
+    Could women learn but that imperiousness,
+    By which men use to stint our happiness,
+    When they have purchas'd us for to be theirs
+    By customary sighs and forced tears:
+    To give us bits of kindness, lest we faint,
+    But no abundance that we ever want,
+    And still are begging; which too well they know
+    Endears affection, and doth make it grow:
+    Had we these sleights, how happy were we then,
+    That we might glory over lovesick men!
+    But arts we know not, nor have any skill
+    To feign a sour look to a pleasing will;
+
+_Enter_ JOYCE.
+
+    Nor couch a secret love in show of hate:
+    But, if we like, must be compassionate.
+    Yet I will strive to bridle and conceal
+    The hid affection which my heart doth feel.
+
+JOYCE. Now the boy with the bird-bolt[166] be praised! Nay, faith,
+sister, forward: 'twas an excellent passion.[167] Come, let's hear, what
+is he? If he be a proper man, and have a black eye, a smooth chin, and a
+curled pate, take him, wench; if my father will not consent, run away
+with him, I'll help to convey you.
+
+GERT. You talk strangely, sister.
+
+JOYCE. Sister, sister, dissemble not with me, though you do mean to
+dissemble with your lover. Though you have protested to conceal your
+affection, by this tongue, you shall not; for I'll discover all, as soon
+as I know the gentleman.
+
+GERT. Discover! what will you discover?
+
+JOYCE. Marry, enough, I'll warrant thee. First and foremost, I'll tell
+him thou read'st love-passions in print, and speakest every morning
+without book to thy looking-glass: next, that thou never sleepest till
+an hour after the bellman: that, as soon as thou art asleep, thou art in
+a dream, and in a dream thou art the kindest and comfortablest
+bed-fellow for kissings and embracings: by this hand, I cannot rest for
+thee: but our father----
+
+_Enter_ SIR LIONEL.
+
+SIR LIONEL. How now! what are you two consulting on? On husbands? You
+think you lose time, I am sure; but hold your own a little, girls; it
+shall not be long ere I'll provide for you: and for you, Gertrude, I
+have bethought myself already.
+
+    Whirlpit, the usurer, is late deceas'd:
+    A man of unknown wealth, which he has left
+    Unto a provident kinsman, as I hear,
+    That was once servant to that unthrift Staines.
+    A prudent gentleman they say he is,
+    And, as I take it, called Master Bubble.
+
+    JOYCE. Bubble!                         [_She makes a grimace._
+
+    SIR LIONEL. Yes, nimble-chaps; what say you to that?
+
+    JOYCE. Nothing; but that I wish his Christian name were Water.[168]
+
+    GERT. Sir, I'm at your disposing; but my mind
+    Stands not as yet towards marriage.
+    Were you so pleas'd, I would a little longer
+    Enjoy the quiet of a single bed.
+
+    SIR LIONEL. Here's the right trick of them all: let a man
+    Be motion'd to 'em, they could be content
+    To lead a single life, forsooth: when the harlots
+    Do pine and run into diseases,
+    Eat chalk and oatmeal, cry and creep in corners,
+    Which are manifest tokens of their longings;
+    And yet they will dissemble. [_Aside._] But, Gertude,
+    As you do owe me reverence, and will pay it,
+    Prepare yourself to like this gentleman,
+    Who can maintain thee in thy choice of gowns,
+    Of tires, of servants, and of costly jewels;
+    Nay for a need, out of his easy nature,
+    May'st draw him to the keeping of a coach
+    For country, and caroch[169] for London:
+    Indeed, what might'st thou not?
+
+_Enter a_ SERVANT.
+
+    SER. Sir, here's one come from Master Bubble.
+    To invite you to the funeral of his uncle.
+
+    SIR LIONEL. Thank the messenger, and make him drink.
+    Tell him, I will not fail to wait the corse:
+    Yet stay, I will go talk with him myself.
+    Gertrude, think upon what I have told you,
+    And let me, ere it be long, receive your answer.
+                               [_Exeunt_ SIR LIONEL _and_ SERVANT.
+
+JOYCE. Sister, sister!
+
+GERT. What say you, sister?
+
+JOYCE. Shall I provide a cord?
+
+GERT. A cord! what to do?
+
+JOYCE. Why, to let thee out at the window. Do not I know that thou wilt
+run away with the gentleman for whom you made the passion, rather than
+endure this same Bubble that my father talks of? 'Twere good you would
+let me be of your counsel, lest I break the neck of your plot.
+
+    GERT. Sister, [you] know I love thee,
+    And I'll not think a thought thou shalt not know.
+    I love a gentleman, that answers me
+    In all the rights of love as faithfully:
+    Has woo'd me oft with sonnets and with tears:
+    Yet I seem still to slight him. Experience tells,
+    The jewel that's enjoy'd is not esteem'd;
+    Things hardly got are always highest deem'd.
+
+JOYCE. You say well, sister; but it is not good to linger out too long;
+continuance of time will take away any man's stomach in the world. I
+hope the next time that he comes to you I shall see him.
+
+GERT. You shall.
+
+JOYCE. Why, go to then: you shall have my opinion of him. If he deserve
+thee, thou shalt delay him no longer; for if you cannot find in your
+heart to tell him you love him, I'll sigh it out for you. Come, we
+little creatures must help one another. [_Exeunt._
+
+_Enter_ GERALDINE.
+
+    GERA. How cheerfully things look in this place!
+    'Tis always spring-time here; such is the grace
+    And potency of her who has the bliss
+    To make it still Elysium where she is.
+    Nor doth the king of flames in's golden fires,
+    After a tempest, answer men's desires,
+    When as he casts his comfortable beams
+    Over the flowery fields and silver streams,
+    As her illustrate beauty strikes in me,
+    And wraps my soul up to felicity.
+
+_Enter_ GERTRUDE _and_ JOYCE _aloft_.
+
+JOYCE. Do you hear, sir?
+
+GERT. Why, sister, what will you do?
+
+JOYCE. By my maidenhead, an oath which I ne'er took in vain, either go
+down and comfort him, or I'll call him up and disclose all. What, will
+you have no mercy, but let a proper man, that might spend the spirit of
+his youth upon yourself, fall into a consumption? for shame, sister!
+
+GERT. You are the strangest creature--what would you have me do?
+
+JOYCE. Marry, I would have you go to him, take him by the hand, and
+gripe him; say, You are welcome, I love you with all my heart, you are
+the man must do the feat; and take him about the neck, and kiss upon the
+bargain.
+
+    GERT. Fie, how you talk! 'tis mere immodesty;
+    The common'st strumpet would not do so much.
+
+    JOYCE. Marry, the better; for such as are honest
+    Should still do what the common strumpet will not.
+    Speak, will you do it?
+
+GERT. I'll lose his company for ever first.
+
+JOYCE. Do you hear, sir? here is a gentlewoman would speak with you.
+
+GERT. Why, sister! pray, sister----
+
+JOYCE. One that loves you with all her heart, yet is ashamed to confess
+it.
+
+GERT. Good sister, hold your tongue: I will go down to him.
+
+JOYCE. Do not jest with me; for, by this hand, I'll either get him up,
+or go down myself, and read the whole history of your love to him.
+
+GERT. If you forbear to call, I will go down.
+
+JOYCE. Let me see your back, then; and hear you, do not use him
+scurvily: you were best unset all your tyrannical looks, and bid him
+lovingly welcome, or, as I live, I'll stretch out my voice again. Ud's
+foot, I must take some pains, I see, or we shall never have this gear
+cotten;[170] but, to say truth, the fault is in my melancholy monsieur;
+for if he had but half so much spirit as he has flesh, he might have
+boarded her by this. But see, yonder she marches; now a passion on his
+side of half an hour long: his hat is off already, as if he were begging
+one poor pennyworth of kindness.
+
+_Enter_ GERTRUDE _below_.
+
+GERA. Shall I presume, fair mistress, on your hand to lay my unworthy
+lip?
+
+JOYCE. Fie upon him! I am ashamed to hear him; you shall have a country
+fellow at a maypole go better to his work. He had need to be constant,
+for he is able to spoil as many maids as he shall fall in love withal.
+
+GERT. Sir, you profess love unto me; let me entreat you it may appear
+but in some small request.
+
+GERA. Let me know it, lady, and I shall soon effect it.
+
+GERT. But for this present to forbear this place, Because my father is
+expected here.
+
+GERA. I am gone, lady.
+
+JOYCE. Do you hear, sir?
+
+GERA. Did you call?
+
+JOYCE. Look up to the window.
+
+GERA. What say you, gentlewoman?
+
+GERT. Nay, pray sir, go; it is my sister calls to hasten you.
+
+JOYCE. I call to speak with you; pray, stay a little.
+
+GERA. The gentlewoman has something to say to me.
+
+GERT. She has nothing. I do conjure you, as you love me, stay not.
+
+                                                    [_Exit_ JOYCE.
+
+GERA. The power of magic cannot fasten me; I am gone.
+
+    GERT. Good sir, look back no more, what voice e'er call you.
+    Imagine going from me, you were coming,
+    And use the same speed, as you love my safety.
+                                                [_Exit_ GERALDINE.
+    Wild-witted sister, I have prevented you:
+    I will not have my love yet open'd to him.
+    By how much longer 'tis, ere it be known,
+    By so much dearer 'twill be when 'tis purchas'd.
+    But I must use my strength to stop her journey,
+    For she will after him: and see, she comes.
+
+_Enter_ JOYCE _below_.
+
+    Nay, sister, you are at farthest.
+
+    JOYCE. Let me go, you were best;
+    For if you wrestle with me, I shall throw you.
+    Passion! come back, fool; lover, turn again,
+    And kiss your bellyful;
+    For here she is will stand you, do your worst.
+    Will you let me go?
+
+GERT. Yes, if you'll stay.
+
+JOYCE. If I stir a foot, hang me; you shall come together yourselves,
+and be naught. Do what you will; for if e'er I trouble myself again, let
+me want help in such a case when I need.
+
+GERT. Nay, but prythee, sister, be not angry.
+
+JOYCE. I will be angry. Ud's foot! I cannot endure such foolery, I! Two
+bashful fools that would couple together, and yet ha' not the faces.
+
+GERT. Nay, prythee, sweet sister!
+
+JOYCE. Come, come, let me go. Birds, that want the use of reason and
+speech, can couple together in one day; and yet you, that have both,
+cannot conclude in twenty.
+
+GERT. Why, what good would it do you to tell him?
+
+JOYCE. Do not talk to me, for I am deaf to anything you say. Go, weep
+and cry.
+
+    GERT. Nay, but sister----                           [_Exeunt._
+
+_Enter_ STAINES _and_ DRAWER _with wine_.
+
+    STAINES. Drawer, bid them make haste at home.
+    Tell them they are coming from church.
+
+    DRAWER. I will, sir.                           [_Exit_ DRAWER.
+
+STAINES. That I should live to be a serving-man! a fellow which scalds
+his mouth with another man's porridge; brings up meat for other men's
+bellies, and carries away the bones for his own; changes his clean
+trencher for a foul one, and is glad of it. And yet did I never live so
+merry a life when I was my master's master as now I do, being man to my
+man. And I will stand to't, for all my former speeches, a serving-man
+lives a better life than his master; and thus I prove it: The saying is,
+the nearer the bone the sweeter the flesh; then must the serving-man
+needs eat the sweeter flesh, for he always picks the bones. And again,
+the proverb says, the deeper the sweeter. There has the serving-man the
+advantage again, for he drinks still in the bottom of the pot. He fills
+his belly, and never asks what's to pay; wears broadcloth, and yet dares
+walk Watling Street,[171] without any fear of his draper. And for his
+colours, they are according to the season; in the summer, he is
+apparelled (for the most part) like the heavens, in blue; in winter,
+like the earth, in frieze.
+
+_Enter_ BUBBLE, SIR LIONEL LONGFIELD, _and_ SPRINKLE.
+
+But see, I am prevented in my encomium. I could have maintained this
+theme this two hours.
+
+SIR LIONEL. Well, God rest his soul, he is gone, and we must all follow
+him.
+
+BUB. Ay, ay, he's gone, Sir Lionel, he's gone.
+
+SIR LIONEL. Why, though he be gone, what then? 'Tis not you that can
+fetch him back again, with all your cunning. It must be your comfort
+that he died well.
+
+BUB. Truly, and so it is. I would to God I had e'en another uncle that
+would die no worse; surely I shall weep again, if I should find my
+handkerchief.
+
+LONG. How now! what are these, onions?
+
+BUB. Ay, ay, Sir Lionel, they are my onions; I thought to have had them
+roasted this morning for my cold. Gervase, you have not wept to-day;
+pray, take your onions. Gentlemen, the remembrance of death is sharp,
+therefore there is a banquet within to sweeten your conceits. I pray,
+walk in, gentlemen, walk you in; you know I must needs be melancholy,
+and keep my chamber. Gervase, usher them to the banquet.
+
+    STAINES. I shall, sir. Please you, Sir Lionel?
+
+    SIR LIONEL. Well, Master Bubble, we'll go in and taste of your
+      bounty.
+    In the meantime, you must be of good cheer.
+
+                                [GENTLEMEN _and_ GERVASE _go out_.
+
+BUB. If grief take not away my stomach, I will have good cheer, I
+warrant you. Sprinkle!
+
+    SPRIN. Sir.
+
+    BUB. Had the women puddings to their dole?[172]
+
+    SPRIN. Yes, sir.
+
+    BUB. And how did they take 'em?
+
+    SPRIN. Why, with their hands. How should they take 'em?
+
+    BUB. O thou Hercules of ignorance! I mean, how were they satisfied?
+
+    SPRIN. By my troth, sir, but so-so; and yet some of them had two.
+
+BUB. O insatiable women, whom two puddings would not satisfy! But
+vanish, Sprinkle; bid your fellow Gervase come hither.
+
+                                                 [_Exit_ SPRINKLE.
+
+    And off, my mourning-robes: grief, to the grave,
+    For I have gold, and therefore will be brave:[173]
+    In silks I'll rattle it of every colour,
+    And, when I go by water, scorn a sculler.
+
+_Enter_ STAINES.
+
+    In black carnation velvet I will cloak me,
+    And when men bid God save me, cry, _Tu quoque_.
+
+It is needful a gentleman should speak Latin sometimes, is it not,
+Gervase?
+
+STAINES. O, very graceful, sir; your most accomplished gentlemen are
+known by it.
+
+BUB. Why, then will I make use of that little I have upon times and
+occasions. Here, Gervase, take this bag, and run presently to the
+mercer's; buy me seven ells of horse-flesh-coloured taffata, nine yards
+of yellow satin, and eight yards of orange-tawny velvet. Then run to
+the tailor's, the haberdasher's, the sempster's, the cutler's, the
+perfumer's, and to all trades whatsoever, that belong to the making up
+of a gentleman; and, amongst the rest, let not the barber be forgotten:
+and look that he be an excellent fellow, and one that can snap his
+fingers with dexterity.[174]
+
+STAINES. I shall fit you, sir.
+
+BUB. Do so, good Gervase: it is time my beard were corrected, for it is
+grown so saucy, as it begins to play with my nose.
+
+STAINES. Your nose, sir, must endure it; for it is in part the fashion.
+
+BUB. Is it in fashion? why, then my nose shall endure it, let it tickle
+his worst.
+
+STAINES. Why, now y' are i' the right, sir; if you will be a true
+gallant, you must bear things resolute. As thus, sir; if you be at an
+ordinary, and chance to lose your money at play, you must not fret and
+fume, tear cards, and fling away dice, as your ignorant gamester or
+country-gentleman does; but you must put on a calm, temperate action,
+with a kind of careless smile in contempt of fortune, as not being able
+with all her engines to batter down one piece of your estate, that your
+means may be thought invincible. Never tell your money: nor what you
+have won, nor what you have lost. If a question be made, your answer
+must be: What I have lost, I have lost; what I have won, I have won. A
+close heart and free hand make a man admired: a testern or a shilling to
+a servant that brings you a glass of beer, binds his hands to his lips:
+you shall have more service of him than his master; he will be more
+humble to you than a cheater before a magistrate.
+
+BUB. Gervase, give me thy hand: I think thou hast more wit than I, that
+am thy master; and for this speech only I do here create thee my
+steward. I do long, methinks, to be at an ordinary: to smile at fortune,
+and to be bountiful. Gervase, about your business, good Gervase, whilst
+I go and meditate upon a gentleman-like behaviour. I have an excellent
+gait already, Gervase, have I not?
+
+STAINES. Hercules himself, sir, had never a better gait.
+
+BUB. But despatch, Gervase: the satin and the velvet must be thought
+upon, and the _Tu quoque_ must not be forgotten; for whensoever I give
+arms, that shall be my motto. [_Exit_ BUBBLE.
+
+STAINES. What a fortune had I thrown upon me when I preferred myself
+into this fellow's service! Indeed, I serve myself, and not him; for
+this gold here is my own, truly purchased: he has credit, and shall run
+i' th' books for't. I'll carry things so cunningly, that he shall not be
+able to look into my actions. My mortgage I have already got into my
+hands: the rent he shall enjoy awhile, till his riot constrain him to
+sell it; which I will purchase with his own money. I must cheat a
+little: I have been cheated upon. Therefore I hope the world will a
+little the better excuse me. What his uncle craftily got from me, I will
+knavishly recover of him. To come by it, I must vary shapes, and my
+first shift shall be in satin.
+
+    Proteus, propitious be to my disguise,
+    And I shall prosper in my enterprise.                 [_Exit._
+
+_Enter_ SPENDALL, PURSENET, _and a_ BOY _with rackets_.
+
+    SPEND. A rubber, sirrah.
+
+    BOY. You shall, sir.
+
+    SPEND. And bid those two men you said would speak with me come in.
+
+    BOY. I will, sir.                                 [_Exit_ BOY.
+
+    SPEND. Did I not play this set well?
+
+_Enter_ BLANK _and another_.
+
+PURSE. Excellent well: by Phaeton, by Erebus, it went as if it had cut
+the line.
+
+    BLANK. God bless you, sir.
+
+    SPEND. Master Blank, welcome.
+
+    BLANK. Here's the gentleman's man, sir, has brought the money.
+
+    SER. Will't please you tell it, sir?
+
+    SPEND. Have you the bond ready, Master Blank?
+
+    BLANK. Yes, sir.
+
+    SPEND. 'Tis well. Pursenet, help to tell--10, 11, 12.
+    What time have you given?
+
+    BLANK. The thirteenth of the next month.
+
+    SPEND. 'Tis well: here's light gold.
+
+    SER. 'Twill be the less troublesome to carry.
+
+    SPEND. You say well, sir; how much hast thou told?
+
+    PURSE. In gold and silver, here is twenty pounds.
+
+    BLANK. 'Tis right, Master Spendall, I'll warrant you.
+
+    SPEND. I'll take your warrant, sir, and tell no farther.
+    Come, let me see the condition of this obligation.
+
+    PURSE. A man may win from him that cares not for't.
+    This royal Cæsar doth regard no cash;
+    Has thrown away as much in ducks and drakes,
+    As would have bought some 50,000 capons.            [_Aside._]
+
+    SPEND. 'Tis very well; so lend me your pen.
+
+    PURSE. This is the captain of brave citizens;
+    The Agamemnon of all merry Greeks.
+    A Stukeley or a Sherley for his spirit,[175]
+    Bounty and royalty to men-at-arms.
+
+    BLANK. You give this as your deed?
+
+    SPEND. Marry do I, sir.
+
+    BLANK. Pleaseth this gentleman to be a witness?
+
+    SPEND. Yes, marry shall he. Pursenet, your hand.
+
+    PURSE. My hand is at thy service, noble Brutus.
+
+    SPEND. There's for your kindness, Master Blank.
+
+    BLANK. I thank you, sir.
+
+    SPEND. There's for your pains.                 [_To_ SERVANT.]
+
+    SER. I thank you, sir.                               [_Exit._]
+
+    BLANK. I'll take my leave of you.[176]
+
+    SPEND. What, must you be gone too, Master Blank?
+
+    BLANK. Yes, indeed, sir; I must to the Exchange.      [_Exit._
+
+    SPEND. Farewell to both. Pursenet,
+    Take that twenty pounds, and give it Mistress Sweatman:
+    Bid her pay her landlord and apothecary,
+    And let her butcher and her baker stay;
+    They're honest men, and I'll take order with them.
+
+    PURSE. The butcher and the baker then shall stay.
+
+    SPEND. They must, till I am somewhat stronger pursed.
+
+    PURSE. If this be all, I have my errand perfect.
+                                                 [_Exit_ PURSENET.
+
+    SPEND. Here, sirrah, here's for balls; there's for yourself.
+
+    BOY. I thank your worship.
+
+    SPEND. Commend me to your mistress.                   [_Exit._
+
+BOY. I will, sir. In good faith, 'tis the liberall'st gentleman that
+comes into our court: why, he cares no more for a shilling than I do for
+a box o' th' ear, God bless him. [_Exit._
+
+_Enter_ STAINES _gallant_, LONGFIELD, _and a_ SERVANT.
+
+STAINES. Sirrah, what o'clock is't?
+
+SER. Past ten, sir.
+
+STAINES. Here will not be a gallant seen this hour.
+
+SER. Within this quarter, sir, and less: they meet here as soon as at
+any ordinary in th' town.
+
+STAINES. Hast any tobacco?
+
+SER. Yes, sir.
+
+STAINES. Fill.
+
+LONG. Why, thou report'st miracles, things not to be believed: I protest
+to thee, hadst thou not unripped thyself to me, I should never have
+known thee.
+
+STAINES. I tell you true, sir; I was so far gone, that desperation
+knocked at my elbow, and whispered news to me out of Barbary.[177]
+
+    LONG. Well, I am glad so good an occasion stay'd thee at home.
+    And may'st thou prosper in thy project, and go on
+    With best success of thy invention.
+
+    STAINES. False dice say amen; for that's my induction:
+    I do mean to cheat to-day without respect of persons.
+    When saw'st thou Will Rash?
+
+    LONG. This morning at his chamber; he'll be here.
+
+STAINES. Why, then, do thou give him my name and character, for my aim
+is wholly at my worshipful master.
+
+LONG. Nay, thou shalt take another into him: one that laughs out his
+life in this ordinary, thanks any man that wins his money: all the while
+his money is losing, he swears by the cross of this silver; and, when it
+is gone, he changeth it to the hilts of his sword.
+
+_Enter_ SCATTERGOOD _and_ NINNIHAMMER.
+
+STAINES. He'll be an excellent coach-horse for my captain.
+
+SCAT. Save you, gallants, save you.
+
+LONG. How think you now? have I not carved him out to you?
+
+STAINES. Thou hast lighted me into his heart; I see him thoroughly.
+
+SCAT. Ninnihammer!
+
+NIN. Sir.
+
+SCAT. Take my cloak and rapier also: I think it be early. Gentlemen,
+what time do you take it to be?
+
+STAINES. Inclining to eleven, sir.
+
+SCAT. Inclining! a good word. I would it were inclining to twelve, for
+by my stomach it should be high noon. But what shall we do, gallants?
+shall we to cards till our company come?
+
+LONG. Please you, sir.
+
+SCAT. Harry, fetch some cards; methinks 'tis an unseemly sight to see
+gentlemen stand idle. Please you to impart your smoke?
+
+LONG. Very willingly, sir.
+
+SCAT. In good faith, a pipe of excellent vapour.
+
+LONG. The best the house yields.
+
+SCAT. Had you it in the house? I thought it had been your own: 'tis not
+so good now as I took it to be.[178] Come, gentlemen, what's your game?
+
+STAINES. Why, gleek; that's your only game.
+
+SCAT. Gleek let it be, for I am persuaded I shall gleek some of you.
+Cut, sir.
+
+LONG. What play we? twelvepence gleek?
+
+SCAT. Twelvepence? a crown: ud's foot! I will not spoil my memory for
+twelvepence.
+
+LONG. With all my heart.
+
+STAINES. Honour.
+
+SCAT. What is't, hearts?
+
+STAINES. The king! what say you?
+
+LONG. You must speak, sir.
+
+SCAT. Why, I bid thirteen.
+
+STAINES. Fourteen.
+
+SCAT. Fifteen.
+
+STAINES. Sixteen.
+
+LONG. Sixteen, seventeen.
+
+STAINES. You shall ha't for me.
+
+SCAT. Eighteen.
+
+LONG. Take it to you, sir.
+
+SCAT. Ud's life! I'll not be outbraved.
+
+STAINES. I vie it.
+
+LONG. I'll none of it.
+
+SCAT. Nor I.
+
+STAINES. Give me a murnival of aces and a gleek of queens.
+
+LONG. And me a gleek of knaves.
+
+SCAT. Ud's life! I'm gleeked this time.
+
+_Enter_ WILL RASH.
+
+STAINES. Play.
+
+W. RASH. Equal fortunes befall you, gallants.
+
+SCAT. Will Rash: well, I pray see what a vile game I have.
+
+W. RASH. What's your game--gleek?
+
+SCAT. Yes, faith, gleek; and I have not one court card but the knave of
+clubs.
+
+W. RASH. Thou hast a wild hand, indeed. Thy small cards show like a
+troop of rebels, and the knave of clubs their chief leader.
+
+SCAT. And so they do, as God save me: by the cross of this silver, he
+says true.
+
+_Enter_ SPENDALL.
+
+STAINES. Pray, play, sir.
+
+LONG. Honour.
+
+W. RASH. How go the stocks, gentlemen? what's won or lost?
+
+STAINES. This is the first game.
+
+SCAT. Yes, this is the first game; but, by the cross of this silver,
+here's all of five pounds.
+
+SPEND. Good day to you, gentlemen.
+
+W. RASH. Frank, welcome, by this hand; how dost, lad?
+
+SPEND. And how does thy wench, faith?
+
+W. RASH. Why, fat and plump, like thy geldings; thou giv'st them both
+good provender, it seems. Go to, thou art one of the madd'st wags of a
+citizen i' th' town: the whole company talks of thee already.
+
+SPEND. Talk! why, let 'em talk; ud's foot! I pay scot and lot, and all
+manner of duties else, as well as the best of 'em. It may be they
+understand I keep a whore, a horse, and a kennel of hounds; what's that
+to them? no man's purse opens for it but mine own; and so long my hounds
+shall eat flesh, my horse bread, and my whore wear velvet.
+
+W. RASH. Why, there spoke a courageous boy.
+
+SPEND. Ud's foot! shall I be confined all the days of my life to walk
+under a pent-house? No, I'll take my pleasure whilst my youth affords
+it.
+
+SCAT. By the cross of these hilts, I'll never play at gleek again,
+whilst I have a nose on my face: I smell the knavery of the game.
+
+SPEND. Why, what's the matter? who has lost?
+
+SCAT. Marry, that have I. By the hilts of my sword, I have lost forty
+crowns in as small time almost as a man might tell it.
+
+SPEND. Change your game for dice: we are a full number for Novem.[179]
+
+SCAT. With all my heart. Where's Master Ambush the broker? Ninnihammer.
+
+NIN. Sir.
+
+SCAT. Go to Master Ambush, and bid him send me twenty marks upon this
+diamond.
+
+_Enter_ BUBBLE.
+
+NIN. I will, sir.
+
+LONG. Look ye, to make us merrier, who comes here?
+
+W. RASH. A fresh gamester? Master Bubble, God save you.
+
+BUB. _Tu quoque_.
+
+STAINES. Save you, sir.
+
+BUB. _Et tu quoque_.
+
+LONG. Good Master Bubble.
+
+BUB. _Et tu quoque_.
+
+SCAT. Is your name Master Bubble?
+
+BUB. Master Bubble is my name, sir.
+
+SCAT. God save you, sir.
+
+BUB. _Et tu quoque_.
+
+SCAT. I would be better acquainted with you.
+
+BUB. And I with you.
+
+SCAT. Pray, let us salute again.
+
+BUB. With all my heart, sir.
+
+LONG. Behold yonder the oak and the ivy, how they embrace.
+
+W. RASH. Excellent acquaintance! they shall be the Gemini.
+
+BUB. Shall I desire your name, sir.
+
+SCAT. Master Scattergood.
+
+BUB. Of the Scattergoods of London.
+
+SCAT. No indeed, sir. Of the Scattergoods of Hampshire.
+
+BUB. Good Master Scattergood.
+
+STAINES. Come, gentlemen, here's dice.
+
+SCAT. Please you, advance to the table?
+
+BUB. No indeed, sir.
+
+SCAT. Pray, will you go?
+
+BUB. I will go, sir, over the world for your sake, but in courtesy I
+will not budge a foot.
+
+_Enter_ NINNIHAMMER.
+
+NIN. Here is the cash you sent me for: and, Master Rash, here is a
+letter from one of your sisters.
+
+SPEND. I have the dice; set, gentlemen.
+
+LONG. From which sister?
+
+W. RASH. From the madcap, I know by the hand.
+
+SPEND. For me, six.
+
+OMNES. And six that.
+
+STAINES. Nine; 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, and 8: eighteen shillings.
+
+SPEND. What's yours, sir?
+
+SCAT. Mine's a baker's dozen. Master Bubble, tell your money.
+
+BUB. In good faith, I am but a simple gamester, and do not know what to
+do.
+
+SCAT. Why, you must tell your money, and he'll pay you.
+
+BUB. My money! I do know how much my money is, but he shall not pay me;
+I have a better conscience than so: what, for throwing the dice twice?
+i' faith, he should have but a hard bargain of it.
+
+W. RASH. Witty rascal! I must needs away.
+
+LONG. Why, what's the matter?
+
+W. RASH. Why, the lovers cannot agree: thou shalt along with me, and
+know all.
+
+LONG. But first let me instruct thee in the condition of this gentleman:
+whom dost thou take him to be?
+
+W. RASH. Nay, he's a stranger, I know him not.
+
+LONG. By this light, but you do, if his beard were off: 'tis Staines.
+
+W. RASH. The devil it is as soon! and what's his purpose in this
+disguise?
+
+LONG. Why, cheating; do you not see how he plays upon his worshipful
+master and the rest?
+
+W. RASH. By my faith, he draws apace.
+
+SPEND. A pox upon these dice! give's a fresh bale.[180]
+
+BUB. Ha, ha! the dice are not to be blamed; a man may perceive this is
+no gentlemanly gamester, by his chafing. Do you hear, my friend? fill me
+a glass of beer, and there's a shilling for your pains.
+
+DRAWER. Your worship shall, sir.
+
+W. RASH. Why, how now, Frank! what hast lost?
+
+SPEND. Fifteen pounds and upwards: is there never an honest fellow?
+
+AMB. What, do you lack money, sir?
+
+SPEND. Yes, canst furnish me?
+
+AMB. Upon a sufficient pawn, sir.
+
+SPEND. You know my shop; bid my man deliver you a piece of three-pile
+velvet, and let me have as much money as you dare adventure upon't.
+
+AMB. You shall, sir.
+
+SPEND. A pox of this luck! it will not last [for] ever. Play, sir, I'll
+set you.
+
+W. RASH. Frank, better fortune befall thee; and, gentlemen, I must take
+my leave, for I must leave you.
+
+SCAT. Must you needs be gone?
+
+W. RASH. Indeed I must.
+
+BUB. _Et tu quoque?_
+
+LONG. Yes, truly.
+
+SCAT. At your discretions, gentlemen.
+
+W. RASH. Farewell. [_Exeunt_ RASH _and_ LONGFIELD.
+
+STAINES. Cry you mercy, sir. I am chanced with you all. Gentlemen: here
+I have 7, here 7, and here 10.
+
+SPEND. 'Tis right, sir, and ten that.
+
+BUB. And nine that.
+
+STAINES. Two fives at all. [_Draws all._
+
+BUB. One and five that.
+
+SPEND. Hum! and can a suit of satin cheat so grossly? By this light,
+there's nought on one die but fives and sixes. I must not be thus
+gulled. [_Aside._
+
+BUB. Come, Master Spendall, set.
+
+SPEND. No, sir, I have done.
+
+SCAT. Why, then let us all leave, for I think dinner's near ready.
+
+DRAWER. Your meat's upon the table.
+
+SCAT. On the table! come, gentlemen, we do our stomachs wrong. Master
+Bubble, what have you lost.
+
+BUB. That's no matter: what I have lost, I have lost; nor can I choose
+but smile at the foolishness of the dice.
+
+STAINES. I am but your steward, gentlemen; for after dinner I may
+restore it again.
+
+BUB. Master Scattergood, will you walk in?
+
+SCAT. I'll wait upon you, sir. Come, gentlemen, will you follow?
+
+                                                        [_Exeunt._
+
+ _Manent_ SPENDALL _and_ STAINES.
+
+    STAINES. Yes, sir, I'll follow you.
+
+    SPEND. Hear you, sir, a word.
+
+    STAINES. Ten, if you please.
+
+    SPEND. I have lost fifteen pounds.
+
+    STAINES. And I have found it.
+
+    SPEND. You say right; found it you have, indeed,
+    But never won it. Do you know this die?
+
+    STAINES. Not I, sir.
+
+    SPEND. You seem a gentleman, and you may perceive
+    I have some respect unto your credit
+    To take you thus aside. Will you restore
+    What you have drawn from me unlawfully?
+
+    STAINES. Sirrah, by your outside you seem a citizen,
+    Whose cock's-comb I were apt enough to break,
+    But for the law. Go, y' are a prating jack:
+    Nor is't your hopes of crying out for clubs
+    Can save you from my chastisement, if once
+    You shall but dare to utter this again.
+
+    SPEND. You lie; you dare not.
+
+    STAINES. Lie! nay, villain, now
+    Thou tempt'st me to thy death.
+
+    SPEND. Soft, you must buy it dearer;
+    The best blood flows within you is the price.
+
+    STAINES. Dar'st thou resist? thou art no citizen.
+
+    SPEND. I am a citizen.
+
+    STAINES. Say thou art a gentleman, and I am satisfied;
+    For then I know thou'lt answer me in field.
+
+    SPEND. I'll say directly what I am, a citizen;
+    And I will meet thee in the field as fairly
+    As the best gentleman that wears a sword.[181]
+
+    STAINES. I accept it: the meeting-place?
+
+    SPEND. Beyond the Maze in Tuttle.[182]
+
+    STAINES. What weapon?
+
+    SPEND. Single rapier.
+
+    STAINES. The time?
+
+    SPEND. To-morrow.
+
+    STAINES. The hour?
+
+    SPEND. 'Twixt nine and ten.
+
+    STAINES. 'Tis good; I shall expect you. Farewell.
+
+    SPEND. Farewell, sir.                         [_Exeunt omnes._
+
+_Enter_ WILL RASH, LONGFIELD, _and_ JOYCE.
+
+W. RASH. Why, I commend thee, girl; thou speak'st as thou think'st. Thy
+tongue and thy heart are relatives; and thou wert not my sister, I
+should at this time fall in love with thee.
+
+JOYCE. You should not need, for, and you were not my brother, I should
+fall in love with you, for I love a proper man with my heart, and so
+does all the sex of us, let my sister dissemble never so much. I am out
+of charity with these nice and squeamish tricks. We were born for men,
+and men for us; and we must together.
+
+W. RASH. This same plain-dealing is a jewel in thee.
+
+JOYCE. And let me enjoy that jewel, for I love plain-dealing with my
+heart.
+
+W. RASH. Th' art a good wench, i' faith. I should never be ashamed to
+call thee sister, though thou shouldst marry a broom-man. But your
+lover, methinks, is over-tedious.
+
+_Enter_ GERALDINE.
+
+JOYCE. No, look ye, sir; could you wish a man to come better upon his
+cue?[183] Let us withdraw.
+
+W. RASH. Close, close, for the prosecution of the plot, wench. See, he
+prepares.
+
+    JOYCE. Silence.
+
+    GERA. The sun is yet wrapp'd in Aurora's arms,
+    And, lull'd with her delight, forgets us[184] creatures.
+    Awake, thou god of heat,
+    I call thee up, and task[185] thee for thy slowness.
+    Point all thy beams through yonder flaring glass,
+    And raise a beauty brighter than thyself.            [_Music._
+    Musicians, give each instrument a tongue,
+    To breathe sweet music in the ears of her
+    To whom I send it as a messenger.
+
+_Enter_ GERTRUDE _aloft_.
+
+GERT. Sir, your music is so good, that I must say I like it: but the
+bringer so ill-welcome, that I could be content to lose it. If you
+played for money, there 'tis; if for love, here's none; if for goodwill,
+I thank you, and, when you will, you may be gone.
+
+    GERA. Leave me not entranc'd; sing not my death;
+    Thy voice is able to make satyrs tame,
+    And call rough winds to her obedience.
+
+    GERT. Sir, sir, our ears itch not for flattery.
+    Here you besiege my window, and[186] I dare not
+    Put forth myself to take the gentle air,
+    But you are in the fields, and volley out
+    Your woes, your plaints, your loves, your injuries.
+
+    GERA. Since you have heard, and know them, give redress;
+    True beauty never yet was merciless.
+
+GERT. Sir, rest thus satisfied; my mind was never woman, never altered;
+nor shall it now begin: so fare you well.
+
+                                                 [_Exit_ GERTRUDE.
+
+W. RASH. 'Sfoot, she plays the terrible tyrannising Tamberlane over him.
+This it is to turn Turk; from a most absolute, complete gentleman to a
+most absurd, ridiculous, and fond lover. [_Aside._]
+
+LONG. O, when a woman knows the power and authority of her eye!----
+
+                                                        [_Aside._]
+
+JOYCE. Fie upon her! she's good for nothing then, no more than a jade
+that knows his own strength. The window is clasped; now, brother,
+pursue your project, and deliver your friend from the tyranny of my
+domineering sister. [_Aside._]
+
+W. RASH. Do you hear, you drunkard in love? Come into us, and be ruled.
+You would little think that the wench that talked so scurvily out of the
+window there is more enamoured on thee than thou on her. Nay, look you
+now: see if he turn not away, slighting our good counsel. I am no
+Christian if she do not sigh, whine, and grow sick for thee. Look you,
+sir: I will bring you in good witness against her.
+
+    JOYCE. Sir, you are
+    My brother's friend, and I'll be plain with you.
+    You do not take the course to win my sister,
+    But indirectly go about the bush; you come
+    And fiddle here, and keep a coil in verse;
+    Hold off your hat, and beg to kiss her hand;
+    Which makes her proud.
+    But, to be short; in two lines, thus it is--
+      Who most doth love, must seem most to neglect it;
+      For those that show most love, are least respected.
+
+    LONG. A good observation, by my faith.
+
+    W. RASH. Well, this instruction comes too late now.
+    Stand you close, and let me prosecute my invention.--[187]
+    Sister, O sister! wake, arise, sister.
+
+_Enter_ GERTRUDE _above_.
+
+    GERT. How now, brother; why call you with such terror?
+
+    W. RASH. How can you sleep so sound, and hear such groans,
+    So horrid and so tedious to the ear, that I
+    Was frighted hither by the sound? O sister,
+    Here lies a gentleman that lov'd you too dearly
+    And himself too ill, as by his death appears.
+    I can report no farther without tears.
+    Assist me now.                          [_Aside to_ LONGFIELD.
+
+    LONG. When he came first, death startled in his eyes;
+    His hand had not forsook the dagger-hilt,
+    But still he gave it strength, as if he fear'd
+    He had not sent it home unto his heart.
+
+    GERT. Enough, enough!
+    If you will have me live, give him no name;
+    Suspicion tells me 'tis my Geraldine:
+    But be it whom it will, I'll come to him,
+    To suffer death as resolute as he.           [_Exit_ GERTRUDE.
+
+    W. RASH. Did not I tell you 'twould take?
+    Down, sir, down.[188]
+
+    GERA. I guess what you'd have me do.
+
+    LONG. O, for a little blood to besprinkle him!
+
+W. RASH. No matter for blood, I'll not suffer her to come near him till
+the plot have ta'en his full height.
+
+    GERA. A scarf o'er my face, lest I betray myself.
+
+_Enter_ GERTRUDE _below_.
+
+    W. RASH. Here, here, lie still, she comes.
+    Now, Mercury, be propitious.
+
+    GERT. Where lies this spectacle of blood?
+    This tragic scene?
+
+    W. RASH. Yonder lies Geraldine.
+
+    GERT. O, let me see him with his face of death!
+    Why do you stay me from my Geraldine?
+
+    W. RASH. Because, unworthy as thou art, thou shalt not see
+    The man now dead, whom living thou didst scorn.
+    The worst part that he had deserv'd thy best;
+    But yet contemn'd, deluded, mock'd, despis'd by you,
+    Unfit for aught but for the general work
+    Which you were made for, man's creation.
+
+    GERT. Burst not my heart, before I see my love,
+    Brother, upon my knees, I beg your leave,
+    That I may see the wound of Geraldine:
+    I will embalm his body with my tears,
+    And carry him unto his sepulchre.
+    From whence I'll never rise, but be interr'd
+    In the same dust he shall be buried in.
+
+    LONG. I do protest she draws sad tears from me.
+    I prythee, let her see her Geraldine.                [_Aside._
+
+    GERT. Brother, if e'er you lov'd me as a sister,
+    Deprive me not the sight of Geraldine.
+
+    W. RASH. Well, I am contented you shall touch his lips,
+    But neither see his face nor yet his wound.
+
+    GERT. Not see his face?
+
+    W. RASH. Nay, I have sworn it to the contrary:
+    Nay, hark you, farther yet.
+
+    GERT. What now?
+
+    W. RASH. But one kiss--no more.
+
+    GERT. Why, then, no more.
+
+    W. RASH. Marry, this liberty I'll give you:
+    If you intend to make any speech of repentance
+    Over him, I am content, so it be short.
+
+    GERT. What you command is law, and I obey.
+
+    JOYCE. Peace, give ear to the passion.              [_Aside._]
+
+    GERT. Before I touch thy body, I implore
+    Thy discontented ghost to be appeas'd.
+    Send not unto me, till I come myself;
+    Then shalt thou know how much I honour'd thee,
+    O, see the colour of his coral lip
+    Which, in despite of death, lives full and fresh,
+    As when he was the beauty of his sex!
+    'Twere sin worthy the worst of plagues to leave thee;
+    Not all the strength and policy of man
+    Shall snatch me from thy bosom.
+
+    LONG. Look, look; I think she'll ravish him!         [_Aside._
+
+    W. RASH. Why, how now, sister?
+
+    GERT. Shall we have both one grave; here I am chain'd;
+    Thunder nor earthquakes shall e'er shake me off.
+
+W. RASH. No? I'll try that. [_Aside._] Come, dead man, awake! up with
+your bag and baggage, and let's have no more fooling.
+
+    GERT. And lives my Geraldine?
+
+    W. RASH. Live! faith, ay;
+    Why should he not? he was never dead
+    That I know on.
+
+    GERA. It is no wonder Geraldine should live,
+    Though he had emptied all his vital spirits.
+    The lute of Orpheus spake not half so sweet,
+    When he descended to th' infernal vaults,
+    To fetch again his fair Eurydice,
+    As did thy sweet voice unto Geraldine.
+
+    GERT. I'll exercise that voice, since it doth please
+    My better self, my constant Geraldine.
+
+    JOYCE. Why so, la, here's an end of an old song!
+    Why could not this have been done before,
+    I pray?
+
+    GERT. O, y' are a goodly sister, this is your plot.
+    Well, I shall live one day to requite you.
+
+JOYCE. Spare me not: for wheresoever I set my affection, although it be
+upon a collier, if I fall back, unless it be in the right kind, bind me
+to a stake, and let me be burned to death with charcoal.
+
+W. RASH. Well, thou art a mad wench, and there's no more to be done at
+this time, but, as we brought you together, so to part you: you must not
+lie at rack and manger; there be those within that will forbid the
+banns: time must shake good-fortune by the hand before you two must be
+great; 'specially you, sister. Come, leave swearing.
+
+GERT. Must we then part?
+
+W. RASH. Must you part! why, how think you? ud's foot! I do think we
+shall have as much to do to get her from him as we had to bring her to
+him. This love of women is of strange quality, and has more tricks than
+a juggler. [_Aside._]
+
+    GERT. But this, and then farewell.
+
+    GERA. Thy company[189] is heaven, thy absence hell.
+
+    W. RASH. Lord, who'd think it?                      [_Aside._]
+
+    JOYCE. Come, wench.                           [_Exeunt omnes._
+
+_Enter_ SPENDALL _and_ STAINES. _Tothill Fields_.
+
+    SPEND. This ground is firm and even, I'll go no farther.
+
+    STAINES. This be the place then; and prepare you, sir;
+    You shall have fair play for your life of me,
+    For, look, sir, I'll be open-breasted to you.
+
+    SPEND. Shame light on him that thinks
+    His safety lieth in a French doublet.
+    Nay, I would strip myself, would comeliness
+    Give sufferance to the deed, and fight with thee
+    As naked as a Mauritanian Moor.
+
+    STAINES. Give me thy hand; by my heart, I love thee.
+    Thou art the highest-spirited citizen
+    That ever Guildhall took notice of.
+
+    SPEND. Talk not what I am, until you have tried me.
+
+    STAINES. Come on, sir.                          [_They fight._
+
+    SPEND. Now, sir, your life is mine.
+
+    STAINES. Why then, take it, for I'll not beg it of thee.
+
+    SPEND. Nobly resolv'd, I love thee for those words.
+    Here, take thy arms again, and, if thy malice
+    Have spent itself like mine, then let us part
+    More friendly than we met at first encounter.
+
+    STAINES. Sir, I accept
+    This gift of you, but not your friendship,
+    Until I shall recover 't with my honour.
+
+    SPEND. Will you fight again, then?
+
+    STAINES. Yes.
+
+    SPEND. Faith, thou dost well, then,
+    Justly to whip my folly. But come, sir.
+
+    STAINES. Hold: y' are hurt, I take it.
+
+    SPEND. Hurt! where? zounds, I feel it not.
+
+    STAINES. You bleed, I am sure.
+
+    SPEND. 'Sblood, I think you wear a cat's-claw upon your rapier's
+      point:
+    I am scratched indeed: but, small as 'tis,
+    I must have blood for blood.
+
+    STAINES. Y' are bent to kill, I see.
+
+    SPEND. No, by my hopes; if I can 'scape that sin,
+    And keep my good name, I'll never offer't.
+
+    STAINES. Well, sir, your worst.
+
+    SPEND. We both bleed now, I take it;
+    And, if the motion may be equal thought
+    To part with clasp'd hands, I shall first subscribe.
+
+    STAINES. 'Twere unmanliness in me to refuse
+    The safety of us both; my hand shall never fall
+    From such a charitable motion.
+
+    SPEND. Then join we both, and here our malice ends:
+    Though foes we came to th' field, we'll depart friends.
+                                                        [_Exeunt._
+
+_Enter_ SIR LIONEL _and a_ SERVANT.
+
+SIR LIONEL. Come, come, follow me, knave, follow me; I have the best
+nose i' the house, I think: either we shall have rainy weather, or the
+vault's unstopped. Sirrah, go see; I would not have my guests smell out
+any such inconvenience. Do you hear, sirrah Simon?
+
+SER. Sir.
+
+SIR LIONEL. Bid the kitchen-maid scour the sink, and make clean her
+backside, for the wind lies just upon't.
+
+SER. I will, sir.
+
+SIR LIONEL. And bid Anthony put on his white fustian doublet, for he
+must wait to-day. [_Exit_ SERVANT.] It doth me so much good to stir and
+talk, to place this and displace that, that I shall need no
+apothecaries' prescriptions. I have sent my daughter this morning as far
+as Pimlico,[190] to fetch a draught of Derby ale,[191] that it may
+fetch a colour in her cheeks: the puling harlotry looks so pale, and it
+is all for want of a man, for so their mother would say (God rest her
+soul) before she died. [_Exit._
+
+_Enter_ BUBBLE, SCATTERGOOD, STAINES, _and_ SERVANT.
+
+SER. Sir, the gentlemen are come already.
+
+SIR LIONEL. How, knave? the gentlemen?
+
+SER. Yes, sir: yonder they are.
+
+SIR LIONEL. God's precious! we are too tardy: let one be sent presently
+to meet the girls, and hasten their coming home quickly. How, dost thou
+stand dreaming! [_Exit_ SERVANT.] Gentlemen, I see you love me, you are
+careful of your hour; you may be deceived in your cheer, but not in your
+welcome.
+
+BUB. Thanks, and _Tu quoque_ is a word for all.
+
+SCAT. A pretty concise room; Sir Lionel, where are your daughters?
+
+SIR LIONEL. They are at your service, sir, and forthcoming.
+
+BUB. God's will, Gervase! how shall I behave myself to the gentlewomen?
+
+STAINES. Why, advance yourself toward them with a comely step; and in
+your salute be careful you strike not too high nor too low: and
+afterward, for your discourse, your _Tu quoque_ will bear you out.
+
+BUB. Nay, and that be all, I care not, for I'll set a good face on't,
+that's flat: and for my nether parts, let them speak for themselves.
+Here's a leg; and ever a baker in England show a better, I'll give him
+mine for nothing.
+
+STAINES. O, that's a special thing that I must caution you of.
+
+BUB. What, sweet Gervase?
+
+STAINES. Why, for commending yourself: never, whilst you live, commend
+yourself; and then you shall have the ladies themselves commend you.
+
+BUB. I would they would else.
+
+STAINES. Why, they will, I'll assure you, sir; and the more vilely you
+speak of yourself, the more will they strive to collaud you.
+
+_Enter_ GERTRUDE _and_ JOYCE.
+
+BUB. Let me alone to dispraise myself: I'll make myself the errantest
+coxcomb within a whole country.
+
+    SIR LIONEL. Here come the gipsies, the sun-burnt girls,
+    Whose beauties will not utter them alone;
+    They must have bags, although my credit crack for't.
+
+    BUB. Is this the eldest, sir?
+
+    SIR LIONEL. Yes, marry is she, sir.
+
+    BUB. I'll kiss the youngest first, because she likes me best.[192]
+
+SCAT. Marry, sir, and whilst you are there, I'll be here. [_Kisses the
+elder._] O delicious touch! I think in conscience her lips are lined
+quite through with orange-tawny velvet.
+
+BUB. They kiss exceeding well; I do not think but they have been brought
+up to't. I will begin to her, like a gentleman, in a set speech. Fair
+lady, shall I speak a word with you?
+
+    JOYCE. With me, sir?
+
+    BUB. With you, lady;--this way,--a little more,--
+    So, now 'tis well; umh--
+    Even as a drummer,--or a pewterer----
+
+    JOYCE. Which of the two, no matter,
+    For one beats on a drum, t'other a platter.
+
+    BUB. In good faith, sweet lady, you say true;
+    But pray, mark me farther: I will begin again.
+
+    JOYCE. I pray, sir, do.
+
+    BUB. Even as a drummer, as I said before,
+    Or as a pewterer----
+
+    JOYCE. Very good, sir.
+
+    BUB. Do--do--do.
+
+    JOYCE. What do they do?
+
+    BUB. By my troth, lady, I do not know; for to say truth, I am a kind
+    of an ass.
+
+    JOYCE. How, sir? an ass?
+
+    BUB. Yes, indeed, lady.
+
+    JOYCE. Nay, that you are not.
+
+    BUB. So God ha' me, I am, lady: you never saw
+    An erranter ass in your life.
+
+    JOYCE. Why, here's a gentleman, your friend, will not say so.
+
+    BUB. I' faith, but he shall: how say you, sir? Am not I an ass?
+
+    SCAT. Yes, by my troth, lady, is he. Why, I'll say anything my
+      brother
+    Bubble says. [_Aside._]
+
+    GERT. Is this the man my father chose for me,
+    To make a husband of? O God, how blind
+    Are parents in our loves! so they have wealth,
+    They care not to what things they marry us.
+
+    BUB. Pray, look upon me, lady.
+
+    JOYCE. So I do, sir.
+
+    BUB. Ay, but look upon me well, and tell me if ever you saw any man
+    look so scurvily as I do?
+
+    JOYCE. The fellow, sure, is frantic.                [_Aside._]
+
+    BUB. You do not mark me.
+
+    JOYCE. Yes, indeed, sir.
+
+    BUB. Ay, but look upon me well:
+    Did you ever see a worse-timber'd leg?
+
+    JOYCE. By my faith, 'tis a pretty four-square leg.
+
+    BUB. Ay, but your four-square legs are none of the best. O Gervase,
+    Gervase!                                            [_Aside._]
+
+    STAINES. Excellent well, sir.
+
+    BUB. What say you now to me, lady? Can you find
+    E'er a good inch about me?
+
+    JOYCE. Yes, that I can, sir.
+
+    BUB. Find it and take it, sweet lady. There I think I bobbed her,
+    Gervase.                                            [_Aside._]
+
+    JOYCE. Well, sir, disparage not yourself so:
+    For, if you were the man you'd make yourself,
+    Yet out of your behaviour and discourse
+    I could find cause enough to love you.
+
+BUB. Ah! now she comes to me. [_Aside._] My behaviour! alas, alas! 'tis
+clownical; and my discourse is very bald--bald; you shall not hear me
+break a good jest in a twelvemonth.
+
+JOYCE. No, sir? why, now you break a good jest.
+
+BUB. No, I want the _bon jour_ and the _Tu quoques_ which yonder
+gentleman has. There's a bob for him too. [_Aside._] There's a
+gentleman, an you talk of a gentleman!
+
+JOYCE. Who, he? he's a coxcomb, indeed.
+
+BUB. We are sworn brothers, in good faith, lady.
+
+_Enter_ SERVANT.
+
+SCAT. Yes, in truth, we are sworn brothers, and do mean to go both
+alike, and to have horses alike.
+
+JOYCE. And they shall be sworn brothers, too?
+
+SCAT. If it please them, lady.
+
+SER. Master Balance the goldsmith desires to speak with you.
+
+SIR LIONEL. Bid him come, knave.
+
+SCAT. I wonder, Sir Lionel, your son, Will Rash, is not here.
+
+SIR LIONEL. Is he of your acquaintance, sir?
+
+SCAT. O, very familiar: he struck me a box o' th' ear once, and from
+thence grew my love to him.
+
+_Enter_ BALANCE.
+
+SIR LIONEL. It was a sign of virtue in you, sir; but he'll be here at
+dinner. Master Balance, what makes you so strange? Come, you're welcome;
+what's the news?
+
+    BAL. Why, sir, the old news: your man Francis riots still;
+    And little hope of thrift there is in him.
+    Therefore I come to advise your worship
+    To take some order while there's something left:
+    The better part of his best ware's consum'd.
+
+    SIR LIONEL. Speak softly, Master Balance.
+    But is there no hope of his recovery?
+
+    BAL. None at all, sir; for he's already laid to be arrested by some
+    that I know.
+
+    SIR LIONEL. Well, I do suffer for him, and am loth
+    Indeed to do what I'm constrain'd to do:
+    Well, sir, I mean to seize on what is left.
+    And, hark ye--one word more.                      [_Whispers._
+
+    JOYCE. What heinous sin has yonder man committed,
+    To have so great a punishment, as wait
+    Upon the humours of an idle fool?
+    A very proper fellow, good leg, good face,
+    A body well-proportioned; but his mind
+    Bewrays he never came of generous kind.
+
+_Enter_ WILL RASH _and_ GERALDINE.
+
+    SIR LIONEL. Go to; no more of this at this time.
+    What, sir, are you come?
+
+W. RASH. Yes, sir; and have made bold to bring a guest along.
+
+SIR LIONEL. Master Geraldine's son of Essex?
+
+GERA. The same, sir.
+
+SIR LIONEL. You're welcome, sir; when will your father be in town?
+
+GERA. 'Twill not be long, sir.
+
+SIR LIONEL. I shall be glad to see him when he comes.
+
+GERA. I thank you, sir.
+
+SIR LIONEL. In the meantime, you're welcome; pray, be not strange. I'll
+leave my son amongst you, gentlemen. I have some business. Hark you,
+Master Balance--Dinner will soon be ready. One word more----
+
+                               [_Exeunt_ SIR LIONEL _and_ BALANCE.
+
+W. RASH. And how does my little Asinus and his _Tu quoque_, here? O, you
+pretty sweet-faced rogues! that for your countenances might be Alexander
+and Lodwick.[193] What says the old man to you! will't be a match?
+shall we call brothers?
+
+SCAT. I' faith, with all my heart: if Mistress Gertrude will, we will be
+married to-morrow.
+
+BUB. 'Sfoot, if Mistress Joyce will, we'll be married to-night.
+
+W. RASH. Why, you courageous boys, and worthy wenches made out of wax!
+But what shall's do when we have dined? shall's go see a play?
+
+SCAT. Yes, faith, brother, if it please you: let's go see a play at the
+Globe.
+
+BUB. I care not; any whither, so the clown have a part; for, i' faith, I
+am nobody without a fool.
+
+GERA. Why, then, we'll go to the Red Bull: they say Green's a good
+clown.
+
+BUB. Green! Green's an ass.
+
+SCAT. Wherefore do you say so?
+
+BUB. Indeed, I ha' no reason; for they say he is as like me as ever he
+can look.
+
+SCAT. Well, then, to the Bull.
+
+W. RASH. A good resolution!--continue it: nay, on.
+
+BUB. Not before the gentlewomen; not I, never.
+
+W. RASH. O, while you live, men before women: custom hath placed it so.
+
+BUB. Why, then, custom is not so mannerly as I would be.
+
+                               [_Exeunt_ BUBBLE _and_ SCATTERGOOD.
+
+W. RASH. Farewell, Master Scattergood. Come, lover, you're too busy
+here. I must tutor ye: cast not your eye at the table on each other; my
+father will spy you without spectacles; he is a shrewd observer. Do you
+hear me?
+
+GERA. Very well, sir.
+
+W. RASH. Come, then, go we together; let the wenches alone. Do you see
+yonder fellow?
+
+    GERA. Yes; prythee, what is he?
+
+    W. RASH. I'll give you him within: he must
+    Not now be thought on; but you shall know him.
+                              [_Exeunt_ WILL RASH _and_ GERALDINE.
+
+    GERT. I have observ'd my sister, and her eye
+    Is much inquisitive after yond' fellow;
+    She has examin'd him from head to foot:
+    I'll stay and see the issue.           [_Withdraws a little._]
+
+    JOYCE. To wrastle 'gainst the stream of our affection,
+    Is to strike air, or buffet with the wind
+    That plays upon us. I have striv'd to cast
+    This fellow from my thoughts, but still he grows
+    More comely in my sight: yet [is] a slave,
+    Unto one worse-condition'd than a slave.
+    They are all gone; here's none but he and I:
+    Now I will speak to him--and yet I will not.
+    O, I [do] wrong myself; I will suppress
+    That insurrection love hath train'd in me,
+    And leave him as he is. Once my bold spirit
+    Had vow'd to utter all my thoughts to him,
+    On whom I settled my affection,
+    And why retires it now?
+
+    STAINES. Fight, love, on both sides; for on me thou strik'st
+    Strokes that have beat my heart into a flame.
+    She hath sent amorous glances from her eye,
+    Which I have back return'd as faithfully.
+    I would make to her, but these servile robes
+    Curb that suggestion, till some fitter time
+    Shall bring me more persuadingly unto her.           [_Aside._
+
+    JOYCE. I wonder why he stays; I fear he notes me,
+    For I have publicly betray'd myself
+    By too much gazing on him. I will leave him.         [_Aside._
+
+    GERT. But you shall not: I'll make you speak to him
+    Before you go. Do you hear, sir?
+
+    JOYCE. What mean you, sister?
+
+    GERT. To fit you in your kind, sister. Do you remember
+    How you once tyrannis'd o'er me?
+
+JOYCE. Nay, prythee, leave this jesting; I am out of the vein.[194]
+
+GERT. Ay, but I am in. Go and speak to your lover.
+
+JOYCE. I'll first be buried quick.
+
+GERT. How! ashamed? 'Sfoot, I trow, "if I had set my affection on a
+collier, I'd ne'er fall back, unless it were in the right kind: if I
+did, let me be tied to a stake, and burnt to death with charcoal."[195]
+
+JOYCE. Nay, then, we shall have't.
+
+GERT. Yes, marry shall you, sister: will you speak to him?
+
+JOYCE. No.
+
+GERT. Do you hear, sir? here's a gentlewoman would speak with you.
+
+JOYCE. Why, sister! I pray, sister----
+
+GERT. One that loves you with all her heart, yet is ashamed to confess
+it.
+
+STAINES. Did you call, ladies?
+
+JOYCE. No, sir; here's no one called.
+
+GERT. Yes, sir, 'twas I; I called to speak with you.
+
+JOYCE. My sister's somewhat frantic; there's no regard to be had unto
+her clamours. Will you yet leave? I' faith, you'll anger me.
+
+GERT. Passion: "come back, fool; lover, turn again and kiss your
+bellyful; here's one will stand ye."[196]
+
+STAINES. What does this mean, trow?
+
+JOYCE. Yet is your humour spent?
+
+GERT. Come, let me go: "birds that want the use of reason and of speech
+can couple together in one day; and yet you, that have both, cannot
+conclude in twenty."[197] Now, sister, I am even with you, my venom is
+spit. As much happiness may you enjoy with your lover as I with mine.
+And droop not, wench, nor never be ashamed of him; the man will serve
+the turn, though he be wrapped in a blue coat, I'll warrant him; come.
+
+    JOYCE. You are merrily disposed, sister.    [_Exeunt wenches._
+
+    STAINES. I needs
+    Must prosper: fortune and love work for me.
+    Be moderate, my joys; for, as you grow
+    To your full height, so Bubble's waxeth low.          [_Exit._
+
+_Enter_ SPENDALL, SWEATMAN, _and_ TICKLEMAN.
+
+TICKLE. Will my sweet Spendall be gone, then?
+
+SPEND. I must, upon promise; but I'll be here at supper: therefore,
+Mistress Sweatman, provide us some good cheer.
+
+SWEAT. The best the market will yield.
+
+SPEND. Here's twenty shillings; I protest I have left myself but a crown
+for my spending-money: for indeed I intend to be frugal, and turn good
+husband.
+
+TICKLE. Ay, marry will you; you'll to play again and lose your money,
+and fall to fighting; my very heart trembles to think on it; how, if you
+had been killed in the quarrel? of my faith, I had been but a dead
+woman.
+
+    SPEND. Come, come, no more of this; thou dost but dissemble.
+
+    TICKLE. Dissemble! do not you say so; for if you do,
+    God is my judge, I'll give myself a gash.
+
+    SPEND. Away, away; prythee, no more. Farewell.
+
+    TICKLE. Nay, buss first; well,
+    There's no adversity in the world shall part us.
+
+    SPEND. Thou art a loving rascal; farewell.
+
+    SWEAT. You will not fail supper?
+
+    SPEND. You have my word; farewell.                    [_Exit._
+
+_The street. Enter_ SERJEANTS.
+
+    1ST SER. Sir, we arrest you.
+
+    SPEND. Arrest me! at whose suit?
+
+    2D SER. Marry, there's suits enough against you, I'll warrant you.
+
+    1ST SER. Come, away with him.
+
+    SPEND. Stay, hear me a word.
+
+    2D SER. What do you say?
+
+    SWEATMAN'S _house. Another part of the street_.
+
+_Enter_ PURSENET.
+
+    TICKLE. How now, Pursenet? why com'st in such haste?
+
+    PURSE. Shut up your doors, and bar young Spendall out;
+    And let him be cashier'd your company.
+    He's turn'd bankrout; his wares are seiz'd on;
+    And's shop shut up.
+
+    TICKLE. How! his ware seized on? Thou dost but jest, I hope.
+
+    PURSE. What this tongue doth report, these eyes have seen;
+    It is no Æsop's fable that I tell;
+    But it is true, as I am faithful pander.
+
+    SWEAT. Nay, I did ever think the prodigal would prove
+    A bankrupt: but, hang him, let him rot
+    In prison; he comes no more within these doors,
+    I warrant him.
+
+    TICKLE. Come hither! I would he would but offer it;
+    We'll fire him out, with a pox to him.
+
+    SPEND. Will you do it?
+    To carry me to prison but undoes me.
+
+1ST SER. What say you, fellow Gripe, shall we take his forty shillings?
+
+2D SER. Yes, faith; we shall have him again within this week. [_Aside._
+
+1ST SER. Well, sir, your forty shillings; and we'll have some compassion
+on you.
+
+    SPEND. Will you but walk with me unto that house,
+    And there you shall receive it.
+
+    SER. What, where the women are?
+
+    SPEND. Yes, sir.
+                               [_They walk together to the house._
+
+SWEAT. Look yonder, if the ungracious rascal be not coming hither
+betwixt two serjeants: he thinks, belike, that we'll relieve him; let us
+go in and clap the doors against him.
+
+    PURSE. It is the best course, Mistress Tickleman.
+
+    TICKLE. But I say no, you shall not stir a foot;
+    For I will talk with him.
+
+    SPEND. Nan, I am come,
+    Even in the minute that thou didst profess
+    Kindness unto me, to make trial of it.
+    Adversity, thou seest, lays hands upon me:
+    But forty shillings will deliver me.
+
+    TICKLE. Why, you impudent rogue, do you come to me for money?
+    Or do I know you? what acquaintance, pray,
+    Hath ever pass'd betwixt yourself and me?
+
+    SER. Zounds, do you mock us, to bring us to these women, that do not
+    know you?
+
+    SWEAT. Yes, in good sooth (officers, I take't you are)
+
+    He's a mere stranger here; only in charity
+    Sometimes we have reliev'd him with a meal.
+
+    SPEND. This is not earnest in you? Come, I know,
+    My gifts and bounty cannot so soon be buried.
+    Go, prythee, fetch forty shillings.
+
+    TICKLE. Talk not to me, you slave, of forty shillings;
+    For by this light that shines, ask it again,
+    I'll send my knife of an errand in your guts.
+    A shameless rogue, to come to me for money!
+
+    SWEAT. Is he your prisoner, gentlemen?
+
+    SER. Yes, marry is he.
+
+    SWEAT. Pray, carry him then to prison, let him smart for't:
+    Perhaps 'twill tame the wildness of his youth,
+    And teach him how to lead a better life.
+    He had good counsel here, I can assure you,
+    And if he would have took it.
+
+    PURSE. I told him still myself what would ensue.
+
+    SPEND. Furies break loose in me: serjeants, let me go;
+    I'll give you all I have to purchase freedom
+    But for a lightning while, to tear yond whore,
+    Bawd, pander, and in them the devil; for there's
+    His hell, his local habitation;
+    Nor has he any other place.[198]
+
+    SER. No, sir, we'll take no bribes.
+                                      [_Takes_ SPENDALL'S _cloak_.
+
+    SPEND. Honest serjeants, give me leave to unlade
+    A heart o'ercharg'd with grief; as I have a soul,
+    I'll not break from you.                   [_They loose him._]
+    Thou strumpet, that wert born to ruin me,[199]
+    My fame and fortune, be subject to my curse,
+    And hear me speak it. May'st thou in thy youth
+    Feel the sharp whip, and in thy beldam age
+    The cart: when thou art grown to be
+    An old upholster unto venery,
+    (A bawd, I mean, to live by feather-beds)
+    May'st thou be driven to sell all thou hast,
+    Unto thy _aqua-vitæ_ bottle (that's the last
+    A bawd will part withal) and live so poor
+    That, being turn'd forth thy house, may'st die at door!
+
+    SER. Come, sir, ha' you done?
+
+    SPEND. A little farther give me leave, I pray;
+    I have a charitable prayer to end with.
+    May the French cannibal[200] eat into thy flesh,
+    And pick thy bones so clean, that the report
+    Of thy calamity may draw resort
+    Of all the common sinners in the town,
+    To see thy mangl'd carcass; and that then
+    They may upon't turn honest; bawd, say amen.          [_Exit._
+
+    SWEAT. Out upon him, wicked villain, how he blasphemes!
+
+    PURSE. He will be damn'd for turning heretic.
+
+    TICKLE. Hang him, bankrout rascal, let him talk in prison,
+    The whilst we'll spend his goods; for I did never
+    Hear that men took example by each other.
+
+SWEAT. Well, if men did rightly consider't, they should find that whores
+and bawds are profitable members in a commonwealth; for indeed, though
+we somewhat impair their bodies, yet we do good to their souls; for I am
+sure, we still bring them to repentance.
+
+PURSE. By Dis, and so we do.
+
+SWEAT. Come, come, will you dis before? thou art one of them that I
+warrant thee will, be hanged, before thou wilt repent. [_Exeunt._
+
+_Enter_ WILL RASH, STAINES, _and_ GERALDINE.
+
+W. RASH. Well, this love is a troublesome thing. Jupiter, bless me out
+of his fingers; there's no estate can rest for him: he runs through all
+countries, will travel through the Isle of Man in a minute; but never is
+quiet till he comes into Middlesex, and there keeps his Christmas: 'tis
+his habitation, his mansion, from whence he'll never out till he be
+fired.
+
+GERA. Well, do not tyrannise too much, lest one day he make you know his
+deity, by sending a shaft out of a sparkling eye shall strike so deep
+into your heart, that it shall make you fetch your breath short again.
+
+W. RASH. And make me cry, _O eyes, no eyes, but two celestial
+stars!_[201] A pox on't, I'd as lief hear a fellow sing through the
+nose. How now, wench?
+
+_Enter_ GERTRUDE.
+
+GERT. Keep your station: you stand as well for the encounter as may be:
+she is coming on; but as melancholy as a bass-viol in concert.
+
+W. RASH. Which makes thee as sprightly as the treble. Now dost thou play
+thy prize: here's the honourable science, one against another. Do you
+hear, lover; the thing is done you wot of; you shall have your wench
+alone without any disturbance; now if you can do any good, why so; the
+silver game be yours; we'll stand by and give aim,[202] and halloo, if
+you hit the clout.
+
+    STAINES. 'Tis all the assistance I request of you.
+    Bring me but opportunely to her presence,
+    And I desire no more; and if I cannot win her,
+    Let me lose her.
+
+    GERT. Well, sir, let me tell you, perhaps you undertake
+    A harder task than yet you do imagine.
+
+STAINES. A task! what, to win a woman, and have opportunity? I would
+that were a task, i' faith, for any man that wears his wits about him.
+Give me but half an hour's conference with the coldest creature of them
+all; and if I bring her not into a fool's paradise, I'll pull out my
+tongue, and hang it at her door for a draw-latch. Ud's foot! I'd ne'er
+stand thrumming of caps for the matter; I'll quickly make trial of her.
+If she love to have her beauty praised, I'll praise it; if her wit, I'll
+commend it; if her good parts, I'll exalt them. No course shall 'scape
+me; for to whatsoever I saw her inclined, to that would I fit her.
+
+W. RASH. But you must not do thus to her; for she's a subtle, flouting
+rogue, that will laugh you out of countenance, if you solicit her
+seriously. No, talk me to her wantonly, slightly, and carelessly, and
+perhaps so you may prevail as much with her as wind does with a
+sail--carry her whither thou wilt, bully.
+
+_Enter_ JOYCE.
+
+STAINES. Well, sir, I'll follow your instruction.
+
+W. RASH. Do so: and see, she appears. Fall you two off from us; let us
+two walk together.
+
+    JOYCE. Why did my inquiring eye take in this fellow,
+    And let him down so easy to my heart,
+    Where, like a conqueror, he seizes on it,
+    And beats all other men out of my bosom?
+
+W. RASH. Sister, you're well met. Here's a gentleman desires to be
+acquainted with you.
+
+JOYCE. See, the servingman is turned a gentleman! That villanous wench,
+my sister, has no mercy. She and my brother have conspired together to
+play upon me; but I'll prevent their sport; for, rather than my tongue
+shall have scope to speak matter to give them mirth, my heart shall
+break. [_Aside._]
+
+    W. RASH. You have your desire, sir; I'll leave you;
+    Grapple with her as you can.                  [_Aside. Exit._]
+
+    STAINES. Lady, God save you.--
+    She turns back upon the motion;
+    There's no good to be done by praying for her,
+    I see that; I must plunge into a passion:
+    Now for a piece of Hero and Leander;
+    'Twere excellent, and (praise be to my memory),
+    It has reach'd half a dozen lines for the purpose:
+    Well, she shall have them--
+    "One is no number, maids are nothing, then,[203]
+    Without the sweet society of men.
+    Wilt thou live single still? one shalt thou be,
+    Though never singling Hymen couple thee.
+    Wild savages, that drink of running springs,
+    Think water far excels all earthly things:
+    But they that daily taste neat wine, despise it.
+    Virginity, albeit some highly prize it,
+    Compar'd with marriage, had you tried them both,
+    Differs as much as wine and water doth."
+    No? Why then, have at you in another kind.
+
+"By the faith of a soldier, lady, I do reverence the ground that you
+walk upon. I will fight with him that dares say you are not fair; stab
+him that will not pledge your health, and with a dagger pierce a
+vein,[204] to drink a full health to you; but it shall be on this
+condition, that you shall speak first." Ud's foot! if I could but get
+her to talk once half my labour were over; but I'll try her in another
+vein. "What an excellent creature is a woman without a tongue! but what
+a more excellent creature is a woman that has a tongue, and can hold her
+peace! but how much more excellent and fortunate a creature is that man
+that has that woman to his wife!" This cannot choose but mad her; and if
+anything make a woman talk, 'tis this. It will not do, though, yet. I
+pray God they have not gulled me. But I'll try once again--"When will
+that tongue take liberty to talk? Speak but one word, and I'm satisfied:
+Or do but say but mum, and I am answer'd." No sound? no accent? Is there
+no noise in women? Nay, then without direction I ha' done. I must go
+call for help. [_Leaves her._
+
+W. RASH. How! not speak?
+
+STAINES. Not a syllable. Night nor sleep is not more silent. She's as
+dumb as Westminster Hall in the long vacation.
+
+W. RASH. Well, and what would you have me do?
+
+STAINES. Why, make her speak.
+
+W. RASH. And what then?
+
+STAINES. Why, let me alone with her.
+
+W. RASH. Ay, so you said before; give you but opportunity, and let you
+alone--you'd desire no more. But come, I'll try my cunning for you; see
+what I can do. How do you, sister? I am sorry to hear you are not well.
+This gentleman tells me you have lost your tongue; I pray, let's see. If
+you can but make signs whereabout you lost it, we'll go and look for't.
+In good faith, sister, you look very pale; in my conscience, 'tis for
+grief. Will you have any comfortable drinks sent for? This is not the
+way [_aside_]; come, walk, seem earnest in discourse, cast not an eye
+towards her, and you shall see weakness work itself.
+
+    JOYCE. My heart is swoll'n so big that it must vent,
+    Or it will burst. [_Aside._] Are you a brother?
+
+    W. RASH. Look to yourself, sir;
+    The brazen head has spoke,[205] and I must leave you.
+
+    JOYCE. Has shame that power in him, to make him fly,
+    And dare you be so impudent to stand
+    Just in the face of my incensed anger?
+    What are you? why do you stay? who sent for you?
+    You were in garments yesterday, befitting
+    A fellow of your fashion: has a crown
+    Purchased that shining satin of the brokers?
+    Or is't a cast suit of your goodly master's?
+
+    STAINES. A cast suit, lady?
+
+    JOYCE. You think it does become you? Faith, it does not.
+    A blue coat[206] with a badge does better with you.
+    Go, untruss your master's points, and do not dare
+    To stop your nose when as his worship stinks:
+    'T has been your breeding.
+
+    STAINES. Ud's life! this is excellent: now she talks. [_Aside._
+
+    JOYCE. Nay, were you a gentleman, and (which is more)
+    Well-landed, I should hardly love you;
+    For, for your face, I never saw a worse:
+    It looks as if 'twere drawn with yellow ochre
+    Upon black buckram; and that hair
+    That's on your chin looks not like beard,
+    But as if't had been smear'd with shoemakers' wax.
+
+    STAINES. Ud's foot! she'll make me out of love with myself.
+                                                           [_Aside._
+
+    JOYCE. How dares your baseness once aspire unto
+    So high a fortune, as to reach at me?
+    Because you have heard that some have run away
+    With butlers, horsekeepers, and their father's clerks,
+    You, forsooth, cocker'd with your own suggestion,
+    Take heart upon't, and think me (that am meet,
+    And set up for your master) fit for you.
+
+    STAINES. I would I could get her now to hold her tongue. [_Aside_
+
+    JOYCE. Or, 'cause sometimes as I have pass'd along,
+    And have return'd a courtesy for your hat,
+    You, as the common trick is, straight suppose
+    'Tis love (sir reverence, which makes the word more beastly).
+
+    STAINES. Why, this is worse than silence.            [_Aside._
+
+    JOYCE. But we are fools, and in our reputations
+    We find the smart on't:
+    Kindness is termed lightness in our sex;
+    And when we give a favour or a kiss,
+    We give our good names too.
+
+    STAINES. Will you be dumb again?
+
+    JOYCE. Men you are call'd, but you're a viperous brood,
+    Whom we in charity take into our bosoms,
+    And cherish with our heart; for which you sting us.
+
+    STAINES. Ud's foot! I'll fetch him that wak'd your tongue,
+    To lay it down again.                    [_Fetches_ WILL RASH.
+
+    W. RASH. Why, how now, man?
+
+    STAINES. O, relieve me, or I shall lose my hearing!
+    You have rais'd a fury up into her tongue:
+    A parliament of women could not make
+    Such a confused noise as that she utters.
+
+    W. RASH. Well, what would you have me do?
+
+    STAINES. Why, make her hold her tongue.
+
+    W. RASH. And what then?
+
+    STAINES. Why, then, let me alone again.
+
+W. RASH. This is very good, i' faith: first give thee but opportunity,
+and let thee alone; then make her but speak, and let thee alone; now
+make her hold her tongue, and then let thee alone By my troth, I think
+I were best to let thee alone indeed: but come, follow me; the wild cat
+shall not carry it so away. Walk, walk, as we did.
+
+    JOYCE. What, have you fetched your champion? What can he do?
+    Not have you nor himself from out the storm
+    Of my incensed rage: I will thunder into your ears
+    The wrongs that you have done an innocent maid:
+    O, you're a couple of sweet----what shall I call you?
+    Men you are not; for, if you were,
+    You would not offer this unto a maid.
+    Wherein have I deserved it at your hands?
+
+Have I not been always a kind sister to you, and in signs and tokens
+showed it? Did I not send money to you at Cambridge, when you were but a
+freshman? wrought you purses and bands; and since you came to th'
+inns-o'-court, a fair pair of hangers? Have you not taken rings from me,
+which I have been fain to say I have lost when you had pawned them; and
+yet was never beholden to you for a pair of gloves?
+
+    W. RASH. A woman's tongue, I see, is like a bell,
+    That, once being set agoing, goes itself.
+
+JOYCE. And yet you, to join with my sister against me, send one here to
+play upon me, whilst you laugh and leer, and make a pastime on me. Is
+this brotherly done? No, it is barbarous; and a Turk would blush to
+offer it to a Christian. But I will think on't, and have it written in
+my heart, when it hath slipped your memories.
+
+    W. RASH. When will your tongue be weary?
+
+    JOYCE. Never.
+
+    W. RASH. How! never? Come, talk, and I'll talk with you:
+    I'll try the nimble footmanship of your tongue;
+    And if you can out-talk me, your's be the victory.
+                     [_Here they two talk and rail what they list;
+                       and then_ WILL RASH _speaks to_ STAINES.
+
+    ALL SPEAK. Ud's foot! dost thou stand by, and do nothing?
+    Come, talk, and drown her clamours.
+              [_Here they all three, talk, and_ JOYCE _gives over,
+                weeping, and Exit_.
+
+_Enter_ GERTRUDE _and_ GERALDINE.
+
+GERA. Alas! she's spent, i' faith: now the storm's over.
+
+W. RASH. Ud's foot! I'll follow her, as long as I have any breath.
+
+GERT. Nay, no more now, brother; you have no compassion; you see she
+cries.
+
+STAINES. If I do not wonder she could talk so long, I am a villain. She
+eats no nuts, I warrant her; 'sfoot, I am almost out of breath with that
+little I talked: well, gentle brothers, I might say (for she and I must
+clap hands upon't) a match for all this. Pray, go in; and, sister, salve
+the matter, collogue with her again, and all shall be well: I have a
+little business that must be thought upon, and 'tis partly for your
+mirth, therefore let me not (though absent) be forgotten: farewell.
+
+W. RASH. We will be mindful of you, sir; fare you well.
+
+GERA. How now, man! what, tired, tired?
+
+W. RASH. Zounds, and you had talked as much as I did, you would be
+tired, I warrant. What, is she gone in? I'll to her again, whilst my
+tongue is warm: and if I thought I should be used to this exercise, I
+would eat every morning an ounce of licorish.[207] [_Exeunt._
+
+_Enter_ LODGE, _the master of the prison, and_ HOLDFAST, _his man_.
+
+LODGE. Have you summed up those reckonings?
+
+HOLD. Yes, sir.
+
+LODGE. And what is owing me?
+
+HOLD. Thirty-seven pound, odd money.
+
+LODGE. How much owes the Frenchman?
+
+HOLD. A fortnight's commons.
+
+LODGE. Has Spendall any money?
+
+HOLD. Not any, sir; and he has sold all his clothes.
+
+_Enter_ SPENDALL.
+
+    LODGE. That fellow would waste millions if he had 'em:
+    Whilst he has money, no man spends a penny.
+    Ask him money, and if he say he has none,
+    Be plain with him, and turn him out o' th' ward.
+                                                    [_Exit_ LODGE.
+
+HOLD. I will, sir. Master Spendall, my master has sent to you for money.
+
+SPEND. Money! why does he send to me? Does he think I have the
+philosopher's stone, or I can clip, or coin? How does he think I can
+come by money?
+
+HOLD. Faith, sir, his occasions are so great, that he must have money,
+or else he can buy no victuals.
+
+SPEND. Then we must starve, belike. Ud's foot, thou see'st I have
+nothing left that will yield me two shillings.
+
+HOLD. If you have no money, you'd best remove into some cheaper ward.
+
+SPEND. What ward should I remove in?
+
+HOLD. Why, to the twopenny ward; it's likeliest to hold out with your
+means; or, if you will, you may go into the hole, and there you may
+feed, for nothing.
+
+SPEND. Ay, out of the alms-basket, where charity appears in likeness of
+a piece of stinking fish, such as they beat bawds with when they are
+carted.
+
+HOLD. Why, sir, do not scorn it; as good men as yourself have been glad
+to eat scraps out of the alms-basket.
+
+    SPEND. And yet, slave, thou in pride wilt stop thy nose,
+    Screw, and make faces, talk contemptibly of it,
+    And of the feeders, surly groom.
+
+_Enter_ FOX.
+
+    HOLD. Well, sir, your malapertness will get you nothing.--Fox!
+
+FOX. Here.
+
+HOLD. A prisoner to the hole: take charge of him, and use him as
+scurvily as thou canst. You shall be taught your duty, sir, I warrant
+you.
+
+    SPEND. Hence, slavish tyrants, instruments of torture!
+    There is more kindness yet in whores than you;
+    For when a man hath spent all, he may go
+    And seek his way, they'll kick him out of doors,
+    Not keep him in as you do, and enforce him
+    To be the subject of their cruelty.
+    You have no mercy; but be this your comfort,
+    The punishment and tortures which you do
+    Inflict on men, the devils shall on you.
+
+HOLD. Well, sir, you may talk, but you shall see the end, and who shall
+have the worst of it.
+
+                                                 [_Exit_ HOLDFAST.
+
+    SPEND. Why, villain, I shall have the worst, I know it,
+    And am prepar'd to suffer like a stoic;
+    Or else (to speak more properly) like a stock;
+    For I have no sense left. Dost thou think I have?
+
+    FOX. Zounds, I think he's mad.
+
+    SPEND. Why, thou art in the right; for I am mad, indeed,
+    And have been mad these two years. Dost thou think
+    I could have spent so much as I have done
+    In wares and credit, had I not been mad?
+    Why, thou must know, I had a fair estate
+    Which, through my riot, I have torn in pieces,
+    And scatter'd amongst bawds, buffoons, and whores,
+    That fawn'd on me, and by their flatteries
+    Rock'd all my understanding faculties
+    Into a pleasant slumber; where I dreamt
+    Of nought but joy and pleasure: never felt
+    How I was lull'd in sensuality,
+    Until at last affliction waked me,
+    And, lighting up the taper of my soul,
+    Led me unto myself, where I might see
+    A mind and body rent with misery.        [_A prisoner within._
+
+    PRIS. Harry Fox! Harry Fox!
+
+    FOX. Who calls?
+
+_Enter_ PRISONER.
+
+PRIS. Here's the bread-and-meat-man come.
+
+FOX. Well, the bread-and-meat-man may stay a little.
+
+PRIS. Yes, indeed, Harry, the bread-and-meat-man may stay; but you know
+our stomachs cannot stay.
+
+_Enter_ GATHERSCRAP _with the basket_.
+
+FOX. Indeed your stomach is always first up.
+
+PRIS. And therefore by right should be first served: I have a stomach
+like _aqua fortis_, it will eat anything; O father Gatherscrap, here are
+excellent bits in the basket.
+
+FOX. Will you hold your chaps farther? By and by, you'll drivel into the
+basket.
+
+PRIS. Perhaps it may do some good; for there may be a piece of powdered
+beef that wants watering.
+
+FOX. Here, sir, here's your share.
+
+PRIS. Here's a bit indeed: what's this to a Gargantua stomach?
+
+FOX. Thou art ever grumbling.
+
+PRIS. Zounds! it would make a dog grumble to want his victuals: I pray,
+give Spendall none; he came into the hole but yesternight.
+
+FOX. What, do you refuse it?
+
+SPEND. I cannot eat, I thank you.
+
+PRIS. No, no, give it me, he's not yet seasoned for our company.
+
+    FOX. Divide it then amongst you.
+                                       [_Exit_ FOX _and_ PRISONER.
+
+    SPEND. To such a one as these are must I come;
+    Hunger will draw me into their fellowship,
+    To fight and scramble for unsavoury scraps,
+    That come from unknown hands, perhaps unwash'd:
+    And would that were the worst; for I have noted
+    That nought goes to the prisoners, but such food
+    As either by the weather has been tainted,
+    Or children, nay, sometimes full-paunched dogs
+    Have overlick'd; as if men had determin'd
+    That the worst sustenance which is God's creatures'--
+    However they're abus'd--is[208] good enough
+    For such vild creatures as abuse themselves.
+    O, what a slave was I unto my pleasures!
+    How drown'd in sin, and overwhelm'd in lust!
+    That I could write my repentance to the world,
+    And force th' impression of it in the hearts
+    Of you of[209] my acquaintance: I might teach them
+    By my example, to look home to thrift,
+    And not to range abroad to seek out ruin.
+    Experience shows, his purse shall soon grow light,
+    Whom dice wastes in the day, drabs in the night.
+    Let all avoid false strumpets, dice and drink;
+    For he that leaps i' th' mud, shall quickly sink.
+
+_Enter_ FOX _and_ LONGFIELD.
+
+    FOX. Yonder's the man.
+
+    LONG. I thank you.
+    How is it with you, sir? What, on the ground?
+    Look up, there's comfort towards you.
+
+    SPEND. Belike, some charitable friend has sent a shilling.
+    What is your business?
+
+    LONG. Liberty.
+
+    SPEND. There's virtue in that word; I'll rise up to you.
+    Pray, let me hear that cheerful word again.
+
+    LONG. The able and well-minded widow Raysby,
+    Whose hand is still upon the poor man's box,
+    Hath in her charity remember'd you;
+    And, being by your master seconded,
+    Hath taken order with your creditors
+    For day and payment; and freely from her purse,
+    By me her deputy, she hath discharg'd
+    All duties in the house: besides, to your necessities
+    This is bequeath'd, to furnish you with clothes.
+
+    SPEND. Speak you this seriously?
+
+    LONG. 'Tis not my practice to mock misery.
+
+    SPEND. Be ever praised that divinity,
+    That has to my oppressed state rais'd friends,
+    Still be his blessings pour'd upon their heads.
+    Your hand, I pray,
+    That have so faithfully perform'd their wills.
+    If e'er my industry, join'd with their loves,
+    Shall raise me to a competent estate,
+    Your name shall ever be to me a friend.
+
+    LONG. In your good wishes you requite me amply.
+
+    SPEND. All fees, you say, are paid? There's for your love.
+
+    FOX. I thank you, sir, and am glad you are releas'd.  [_Exeunt._
+
+_Enter_ BUBBLE, _gallanted_.
+
+BUB. How apparel makes a man respected! the very children in the street
+do adore me: for if a boy, that is throwing at his jack-a-lent,[210]
+chance to hit me on the shins, why, I say nothing but _Tu quoque_,
+smile, and forgive the child with a beck of my hand, or some such like
+token: so by that means I do seldom go without broken shins.
+
+_Enter_ STAINES, _like an Italian_.
+
+    STAINES. The blessings of your mistress fall upon you;
+    And may the heat and spirit of her lip
+    Endue her with matter above her understanding,
+    That she may only live to admire you, or, as the Italian says:
+    _Que que dell fogo Ginni coxcombie_.
+
+    BUB. I do wonder what language he speaks.
+    Do you hear, my friend; are not you a conjuror?
+
+STAINES. I am, sir, a perfect traveller, that have trampled over the
+face of the universe, and can speak Greek and Latin as promptly as my
+own natural language. I have composed a book, wherein I have set down
+all the wonders of the world that I have seen, and the whole scope of my
+journeys, together with the miseries and lousy fortunes I have endured
+therein.[211]
+
+BUB. O Lord, sir, are you the man? give me your hand: how do ye? in good
+faith, I think I have heard of you.
+
+STAINES. No, sir, you never heard of me; I set this day footing upon the
+wharf; I came in with the last peal of ordnance, and dined this day in
+the Exchange amongst the merchants. But this is frivolous, and from the
+matter: you do seem to be one of our gentile spirits that do affect
+generosity: pleaseth you to be instituted in the nature, garb, and habit
+of the most exactest nation in the world, the Italian? whose language is
+sweetest, clothes neatest, and behaviour most accomplished. I am one
+that have spent much money, and time, which to me is more dear than
+money, in the observation of these things: and, now I am come, I will
+sit me down and rest; and make no doubt but to purchase and build, by
+professing this art or human science (as I may term it) to such
+honourable and worshipful personages as mean to be peculiar.
+
+BUB. This fellow has his tongue at his fingers' ends. But, hark ye, sir;
+is your Italian the finest gentleman?
+
+STAINES. In the world, signior; your Spaniard is a mere bumbard to him:
+he will bounce, indeed, but he will burst. But your Italian is smooth
+and lofty, and his language is cousin-german to the Latin.
+
+BUB. Why, then he has his _Tu quoque_ in his salute?
+
+STAINES. Yes, sir, for it is an Italian word as well as a Latin, and
+enfolds a double sense; for one way spoken, it includes a fine
+gentleman, like yourself; and another way it imports an ass, like whom
+you will.
+
+BUB. I would my man Gervase were here, for he understands these things
+better than I. [_Aside._] You will not serve?
+
+STAINES. Serve! no, sir; I have talked with the great Sophy.
+
+BUB. I pray, sir, what's the lowest price of being Italianated?
+
+STAINES. Sir, if it please you, I will stand to your bounty: and, mark
+me, I will set your face like a grand signior's, and you shall march a
+whole day, until you come opunctly[212] to your mistress, and not
+disrank one hair of your physiognomy.
+
+BUB. I would you would do it, sir; if you will stand to my bounty, I
+will pay you, as I am an Italian, _Tu quoque_.
+
+STAINES. Then, sir, I will first disburthen you of your cloak; you will
+be the nimbler to practise. Now, sir, observe me: go you directly to the
+lady to whom you devote yourself.
+
+BUB. Yes, sir.
+
+STAINES. You shall set a good staid face upon the matter then. Your band
+is not to your shirt, is it?
+
+BUB. No, sir, 'tis loose.
+
+STAINES. It is the fitter for my purpose. I will first remove your hat.
+It has been the fashion (as I have heard) in England to wear your hat
+thus, in your eyes; but it is gross, naught, inconvenient, and
+proclaims with a loud voice that he that brought it up first stood in
+fear of serjeants. Your Italian is contrary: he doth advance his hat,
+and sets it thus.
+
+BUB. Excellent well: I would you would set it on my head so.
+
+STAINES. Soft; I will first remove your band, and set it out of the
+reach of your eyes; it must lie altogether backward. So: your band is
+well.
+
+BUB. Is it as you would have it?
+
+STAINES. It is as I would wish; only, sir, this I must caution you of,
+in your affront[213] or salute, never to move your hat; but here, here
+is your courtesy.
+
+BUB. Nay, I warrant you; let me alone, if I perceive a thing once, I'll
+carry it away. Now, pray, sir, reach my cloak.
+
+STAINES. Never, whilst you live, sir.
+
+BUB. No! what, do you Italians wear no cloaks!
+
+STAINES. Your signiors, never: you see I am unfurnished myself.
+
+_Enter_ Sir Lionel, WILL RASH, GERALDINE, WIDOW, GERTRUDE, _and_ JOYCE.
+
+BUB. Say ye so? prythee, keep it, then. See! yonder's the company that I
+look for; therefore, if you will set my face of any fashion, pray do it
+quickly.
+
+STAINES. You carry your face as well as e'er an Italian in the world;
+only enrich it with a smile, and 'tis incomparable: and thus much
+more--at your first appearance, you shall perhaps strike your
+acquaintance into an ecstasy, or perhaps a laughter; but 'tis ignorance
+in them, which will soon be overcome, if you persevere.
+
+BUB. I will persevere, I warrant thee: only do thou stand aloof, and be
+not seen; because I would not have them think but I fetch it out of my
+own practice.
+
+    STAINES. Do not you fear; I'll not be seen, I warrant you. [_Exit._
+
+    SIR LIONEL. Now, widow, you are welcome to my house,
+    And to your own house too, so you may call it;
+    For what is mine is yours: you may command here
+    As at home, and be as soon obey'd.
+
+    WID. May I deserve this kindness of you, sir?
+
+    BUB. Save you, gentlemen. I salute you after the Italian fashion.
+
+    W. RASH. How! the Italian fashion? Zounds! he has dressed him
+      rarely.
+
+    SIR LIONEL. My son Bubble, I take it?
+
+    W. RASH. The nether part of him I think is he;
+    But what the upper part is, I know not.
+    [GER.] By my troth, he's a rare fellow.
+
+    BUB. He said true;
+    They are all in an ecstasy.                         [_Aside._]
+
+    GERT. I think he's mad.                             [_Aside._]
+
+JOYCE. Nay, that cannot be; for they say, they that are mad lose their
+wits, and I am sure he had none to lose. [_Aside._]
+
+_Enter_ SCATTERGOOD.
+
+    SIR LIONEL. How now, son Bubble? how come you thus attir'd?
+    What! do you mean to make yourself a laughing-stock, ha?
+
+    BUB. Um! Ignorance, ignorance.                      [_Aside._]
+
+    GERA. For the love of laughter, look yonder:
+    Another herring in the same pickle.
+
+    W. RASH. T'other hobby-horse, I perceive, is not forgotten.[214]
+
+    BUB. Ha, ha, ha, ha!
+
+    SCAT. Ha, ha, ha, ha!
+
+    BUB. Who has made him such a coxcomb, trow?
+    An Italian _Tu quoque_?
+
+    SCAT. I salute you according to the Italian fashion.
+
+    BUB. Puh! the Italian fashion! The tattered-demalian fashion he
+      means.
+
+    SCAT. Save you, sweet bloods, save you.
+
+    SIR LIONEL. Why, but what jig is this?
+
+SCAT. Nay, if I know, father, would I were hanged. I am e'en as innocent
+as the child new-born.
+
+    SIR LIONEL. Ay, but son Bubble, where did you two buy your felts?
+
+    SCAT. Felts! By this light, mine is a good beaver:
+    It cost me three pounds this morning upon trust.
+
+SIR LIONEL. Nay, I think you had it upon trust, for no man that has any
+shame in him would take money for it. Behold, sir.
+
+    BUB. Ha, ha, ha!
+
+    SIR LIONEL. Nay, never do you laugh, for you're i' th' same block.
+
+    BUB. Is this the Italian fashion?
+
+    SCAT. No, it is the fool's fashion:
+    And we two are the first that follow it.
+
+BUB. _Et tu quoque_. Are we both cosened? Then let's show ourselves
+brothers in adversity, and embrace.
+
+SIR LIONEL. What was he that cheated you?
+
+BUB. Marry, sir, he was a knave that cheated me.
+
+SCAT. And I think he was no honest man that cheated me.
+
+SIR LIONEL. Do you know him again if you see him?
+
+_Enter_ STAINES [_in his own costume._]
+
+BUB. Yes, I know him again, if I see him; but I do not know how I should
+come to see him. O Gervase, Gervase! Do you see us two, Gervase?
+
+STAINES. Yes, sir, very well.
+
+BUB. No, you do not see us very well, for we have been horribly abused.
+Never were Englishmen so gulled in Italian as we have been.
+
+STAINES. Why, sir, you have not lost your cloak and hat?
+
+BUB. Gervase, you lie; I have lost my cloak and hat; and therefore you
+must use your credit for another.
+
+SCAT. I think my old cloak and hat must be glad to serve me till next
+quarter-day.
+
+    SIR LIONEL. Come, take no care for cloaks: I'll furnish you.
+    To-night you lodge with me; to-morrow morn,
+    Before the sun be up, prepare for church;
+    The widow and I have so concluded on't.
+    The wenches understand not yet so much,
+    Nor shall not until bedtime: then will they
+    Not sleep a wink all night for very joy.
+
+SCAT. And I'll promise the next night they shall not sleep for joy
+neither. [_Aside._]
+
+    SIR LIONEL. O Master Geraldine, I saw you not before:
+    Your father now is come to town, I hear.
+
+    GERA. Yes, sir.
+
+    SIR LIONEL. Were not my business earnest, I would see him:
+    But pray entreat him break an hour's sleep
+    To-morrow morn t'accompany me to church;
+    And come yourself, I pray, along with him.
+
+_Enter_ SPENDALL.
+
+    GERA. Sir, I thank you.
+
+    SIR LIONEL. But look, here comes one,
+    That has but lately shook off his shackles.--
+    How now, sirrah! wherefore come you?
+
+    SPEND. I come to crave a pardon, sir, of you;
+    And with hearty and zealous thanks
+    Unto this worthy lady, that hath given me
+    More than I e'er could hope for--liberty.
+
+    WID. Be thankful unto heaven and your master:
+    Nor let your heart grow bigger than your purse,
+    But live within a limit, lest you burst out
+    To riot and to misery again:
+    For then 'twould lose the benefit I mean it.
+
+    SIR LIONEL. O, you do graciously; 'tis good advice:
+    Let it take root, sirrah, let it take root.
+    But come, widow, come and see your chamber:
+    Nay, your company too, for I must speak with you.   [_Exeunt._
+
+    SPEND. 'Tis bound unto you, sir.
+
+    BUB. And I have to talk with you too, Mistress Joyce. Pray, a word.
+
+    JOYCE. What would you, sir?
+
+BUB. Pray, let me see your hand. The line of your maidenhead is out. Now
+for your fingers. Upon which finger will you wear your wedding-ring?
+
+    JOYCE. Upon no finger.
+
+    BUB. Then I perceive you mean to wear it on your thumb.
+    Well, the time is come, sweet Joyce; the time is come.
+
+    JOYCE. What to do, sir?
+
+    BUB. For me to tickle thy _Tu quoque;_ to do the act
+    Of our forefathers: therefore prepare, provide,
+    To-morrow morn to meet me as my bride.                [_Exit._
+
+    JOYCE. I'll meet thee like a ghost first.
+
+    GERT. How now, what matter have you fished out of that fool?
+
+    JOYCE. Matter as poisoning as corruption,
+    That will without some antidote strike home,
+    Like blue infection, to the very heart.
+
+    W. RASH. As how, for God's sake?
+
+    JOYCE. To-morrow is the appointed wedding-day.
+
+    GERT. The day of doom, it is?
+
+    GERA. 'Twould be a dismal day indeed to some of us.
+
+    JOYCE. Sir, I do know you love me; and the time
+    Will not be dallied with: be what you seem,
+    Or not the same; I am your wife, your mistress,
+    Or your servant--indeed, what you will make me.
+    Let us no longer wrangle with our wits,
+    Or dally with our fortunes; lead me hence,
+    And carry me into a wilderness:
+    I'll fast with you, rather than feast with him.
+
+    STAINES. What can be welcomer unto these arms?
+    Not my estate recover'd is more sweet,
+    Nor strikes more joy in me than does your love.
+
+    W. RASH. Will you both kiss then upon the bargain?
+    Here's two couple on you, God give you joy;
+    I wish well to you,
+    And I see 'tis all the good that I can do you:
+    And so to your shifts I leave you.
+
+JOYCE. Nay, brother, you will not leave us thus, I hope.
+
+W. RASH. Why, what would you have me do? you mean to run away together:
+would you have me run with you, and so lose my inheritance? no, trudge,
+trudge with your backs to me, and your bellies to them. Away!
+
+    GERA. Nay, I prythee, be not thus unseasonable:
+    Without thee we are nothing.
+
+W. RASH. By my troth, and I think so too. You love one another in the
+way of matrimony, do you not?
+
+GERA. What else, man?
+
+W. RASH. What else, man? Why, 'tis a question to be asked; for I can
+assure you, there is another kind of love. But come, follow me; I must
+be your good angel still: 'tis in this brain how to prevent my father
+and his brace of beagles; you shall none of you be bid to-night: follow
+but my direction, if I bring you not, _To have and to hold, for better
+for worse_, let me be held an eunuch in wit, and one that was never
+father to a good jest.
+
+    GERT. We'll be instructed by you.
+
+    W. RASH. Well, if you be, it will be your own another day.
+    Come, follow me.
+          [SPENDALL _meets them, and they look strangely upon him,
+           and go off_.
+
+    SPEND. How ruthless men are to adversity!
+    My acquaintance scarce will know me; when we meet,
+    They cannot stay to talk, they must be gone,
+    And shake me by the hand as if I burnt them.
+    A man must trust unto himself, I see;
+    For if he once but halt in his estate,
+    Friendship will prove but broken crutches to him.
+    Well, I will lean to none of them, but stand
+    Free of myself: and if I had a spirit
+    Daring to act what I am prompted to,
+    I might thrust out into the world again,
+    Full-blossom'd, with a sweet and golden spring.
+    It was an argument of love in her
+    To fetch me out of prison; and this night
+    She clasp'd my hand in hers, as who should say,
+    Thou art my purchase, and I hold thee thus.
+    The worst is but repulse, if I attempt it.
+    I am resolv'd: my genius whispers to me,
+    Go on, and win her; thou art young and active,
+    Which she is apt to catch at; for there's nought
+    That's more unsteadfast than a woman's thought.       [_Exit._
+
+_Enter_ SIR LIONEL, WILL RASH, SCATTERGOOD, BUBBLE, WIDOW, GERTRUDE,
+JOYCE, PHILLIS, _and_ SERVANT.
+
+    SIR LIONEL. Here's ill-lodging, widow; but you must know,
+    If we had better, we'd afford it you.
+
+    WID. The lodging, sir, might serve better guests.
+
+    SIR LIONEL. Not better, widow, nor yet welcomer:
+    But we will leave you to it and the rest.
+    Phillis, pray let your mistress not want anything.
+    Once more, good night; I'll leave a kiss with you,
+    As earnest of a better gift to-morrow.
+    Sirrah, a light.
+
+    WID. Good rest to all.
+
+    BUB. _Et tu quoque_, forsooth.
+
+    SCAT. God give you good night, forsooth,
+    And send you an early resurrection.
+
+    WID. Good night to both.
+
+    SIR LIONEL. Come, come away, each bird unto his nest;
+    To-morrow night's a time of little rest.
+    [_Exeunt. Manent_ WIDOW _and_ PHILLIS.
+
+    WID. Here, untie: soft, let it alone;
+    I have no disposition to sleep yet:
+    Give me a book, and leave me for a while,
+    Some half-hour hence look in to me.
+
+    PHIL. I shall, forsooth.                      [_Exit_ PHILLIS.
+
+_Enter_ SPENDALL.
+
+    WID. How now! what makes this bold intrusion?
+
+    SPEND. Pardon me, lady, I have business to you.
+
+    WID. Business! from whom? Is it of such importance,
+    That it craves present hearing?
+
+    SPEND. It does.
+
+    WID. Then speak it, and be brief.
+
+    SPEND. Nay, gentle widow, be more pliant to me:
+    My suit is soft and courteous; full of love.
+
+    WID. Of love?
+
+    SPEND. Of love.
+
+    WID. Why, sure, the man is mad! bethink thyself;
+    Thou hast forgot thy errand.
+
+    SPEND. I have indeed, fair lady; for my errand
+    Should first have been deliver'd on your lips.
+
+    WID. Why, thou impudent fellow, unthrift of shame,
+    As well as of thy purse. What has mov'd thee
+    To prosecute thy ruin? hath my bounty,
+    For which thy master was an orator,
+    Importun'd thee to pay me with abuse?
+    Sirrah, retire, or I will, to your shame,
+    With clamours raise the house, and make your master
+    For this attempt return you to the dungeon,
+    From whence you came.
+
+    SPEND. Nay, then I must be desperate:
+    Widow, hold your clapdish,[215] fasten your tongue
+    Unto your roof, and do not dare to call;
+    But give me audience with fear and silence.
+    Come, kiss me--No?
+    This dagger has a point, do you see it?
+    And be unto my suit obedient,
+    Or you shall feel it too:
+    For I will rather totter, hang in clean linen,
+    Than live to scrub it out in lousy linings.
+    Go to, kiss: you will! why, so: again, the third time;
+    Good; 'tis a sufficient charm: now hear me.
+    You are rich in money, lands, and lordships,
+    Manors and fair possessions, and I have not so much
+    As one poor copyhold to thrust my head in.
+    Why should you not then have compassion
+    Upon a reasonable handsome fellow,
+    That has both youth and liveliness upon him,
+    And can at midnight quicken and refresh
+    Pleasures decay'd in you? You want children;
+    And I am strong, lusty, and have a back
+    Like Hercules; able to get them
+    Without the help of muscadine and eggs,
+    And will you then, that have enough,
+    Take to your bed a bundle of diseases,
+    Wrapp'd up in threescore years, to lie a-hawking,
+    Spitting and coughing backwards and forwards,
+    That you shall not sleep; but, thrusting forth
+    Your face out of the bed, be glad to draw
+    The curtains, such a steam shall reek
+    Out of this dunghill? Now, what say you?
+    Shall we, without farther wrangling, clap it up,
+    And go to bed together?
+
+    WID. Will you hear me?
+
+    SPEND. Yes, with all my heart,
+    So the first word may be, untruss your points--
+    Zounds, one knocks; do not stir, I charge you,
+                                                  [_Knock within._
+    Nor speak, but what I bid you:
+    For, by these lips which now in love I kiss,
+    If you but struggle or but raise your voice,
+    My arm shall rise with it, and strike you dead.
+    Go to, come on with me, and ask who's there!
+
+    WID. It is my maid.
+
+    SPEND. No matter; do as I bid you: say, who's there?
+
+    WID. Who's there?
+
+    PHIL. (_Within._) 'Tis I, forsooth.
+
+    SPEND. If it be you, forsooth, then pray you stay,
+    Till I shall call upon you.
+
+    WID. [_Repeats._] If it be you, forsooth, then pray you stay,
+    Till I shall call upon you.
+
+    SPEND. Very well: why, now I see
+    Thou'lt prove an obedient wife. Come, let's undress.
+
+    WID. Will you put up your naked weapon, sir?
+
+    SPEND. You shall pardon me, widow, I must have you grant first.
+
+    WID. You will not put it up?
+
+    SPEND. Not till I have some token of your love.
+
+    WID. If this may be a testimony, take it.       [_Kisses him._
+    By all my hopes, I love thee: thou art worthy
+    Of the best widow living: thou tak'st the course:
+    And those that will win widows must do thus.
+
+SPEND. Nay, I knew what I did when I came with my naked weapon in my
+hand; but come, unlace.
+
+    WID. Nay, my dear love: know that I will not yield
+    My body unto lust, until the priest
+    Shall join us in Hymen's sacred nuptial rites.
+
+    SPEND. Then set your hand to this: nay, 'tis a contract
+    Strong and sufficient, and will hold in law.
+    Here, here's pen and ink; you see I come provided.
+
+    WID. Give me the pen.
+
+    SPEND. Why, here's some comfort.
+    Yet write your name fair, I pray, and at large.
+    Why, now 'tis very well. Now, widow,
+    You may admit your maid,
+    For i' th' next room I'll go fetch a nap.
+
+    WID. Thou shalt not leave me so: come, prythee, sit,
+    We'll talk awhile, for thou hast made my heart
+    Dance in my bosom, I receive such joy.
+
+    SPEND. Thou art a good wench, i' faith; come, kiss upon't.
+
+    WID. But will you be a loving husband to me?
+    Avoid all naughty company, and be true
+    To me and to my bed?
+
+    SPEND. As true to thee as steel to adamant.
+                                         [_Binds him to the post._
+
+    WID. I'll bind you to your word: see that you be,
+    Or I'll conceal my bags. I have kinsfolk,
+    To whom I'll make't over, you shall not have a penny.
+
+    SPEND. Pish, prythee, do not doubt me.
+    How now! what means this?
+
+    WID. It means my vengeance; nay, sir, you are fast,
+    Nor do not dare to struggle: I have liberty
+    Both of my tongue and feet; I'll call my maid.
+
+_Enter_ PHILLIS.
+
+    Phillis, come in, and help to triumph
+    Over this bold intruder. Wonder not, wench,
+    But go unto him, and ransack all his pockets,
+    And take from thence a contract which he forc'd
+    From my unwilling fingers.
+
+    SPEND. Is this according to your oath?
+
+    PHIL. Come, sir, I must search you.
+
+    SPEND.                             I prythee, do.
+    And when thou tak'st that from me, take my life too.
+
+    WID. Hast thou it, girl?
+
+    PHIL. I have a paper here.
+
+    WID. It is the same: give it me. Look you, sir,
+    Thus your new-fancied hopes I tear asunder.
+    Poor wretched man! thou'st had a golden dream,
+    Which gilded over thy calamity;
+    But, being awake, thou find'st it ill-laid on,
+    For with one finger I have wip'd it off.
+    Go, fetch me hither the casket that contains
+    My choicest jewels, and spread them here before him.
+    Look you, sir;
+    Here's gold, pearls, rubies, sapphires, diamonds;
+    These would be goodly things for you to pawn,
+    Or revel with amongst your courtesans,
+    Whilst I and mine did starve. Why dost not curse,
+    And utter all the mischiefs of thy heart,
+    Which I know swells within thee? pour it out,
+    And let me hear thy fury.
+
+    SPEND. Never, never!
+    Whene'er my tongue shall speak but well of thee,
+    It proves no faithful servant to my heart.
+
+    WID. False traitor to thy master and to me,
+    Thou liest, there's no such thing within thee.
+
+    SPEND. May I be burn'd to ugliness, to that
+    Which you and all men hate, but I speak truth.
+
+    WID. May I be turn'd a monster, and the shame
+    Of all my sex, and if I not believe thee.
+    Take me unto thee: these and all that's mine.
+    Were it thrice trebled, thou wert worthy all.
+    And do not blame this trial, 'cause it shows
+    I give myself unto thee, am not forc'd,
+    And with it love, that ne'er shall be divorc'd.
+
+    SPEND. I am glad 'tis come to this; yet, by this light,
+    Thou putt'st me into a horrible fear.
+    But this is my excuse: know that my thoughts
+    Were not so desperate as my action seem'd;
+    For, 'fore my dagger should ha' drawn one drop
+    Of thy chaste blood, it should have sluic'd out mine,
+    And the cold point stuck deep into my heart.
+    Nor better be my fate, if I shall move
+    To any other pleasure but thy love.
+
+    WID. It shall be in my creed: but let's away.
+    For night with her black steeds draws up the day.   [_Exeunt._
+
+_Enter_ WILL RASH, STAINES, GERALDINE, GERTRUDE, JOYCE, _and a boy with
+a lanthorn_.
+
+W. RASH. Softly, boy, softly; you think you are upon firm ground; but it
+is dangerous. You'll never make a good thief, you rogue, till you learn
+to creep upon all four. If I do not sweat with going this pace!
+everything I see, methinks, should be my father in his white beard.
+
+    STAINES. It is the property of that passion; for fear
+    Still shapes all things we see to that we fear.
+
+W. RASH. Well said, logic: sister, I pray, lay hold of him; for the man,
+I see, is able to give the watch an answer if they should come upon him
+with interrogatories.
+
+_Enter_ SPENDALL, WIDOW, _and_ PHILLIS.
+
+Zounds, we are discovered! boy, come up close, and use the property of
+your lanthorn. What dumb show should this be?
+
+GERA. They take their way directly, [and] intend nothing against us.
+
+STAINES. Can you not discern who they are?
+
+JOYCE. One is Spendall.
+
+GERT. The other is the widow, as I take it.
+
+STAINES. 'Tis true, and that's her maid before her.
+
+W. RASH. What a night of conspiracy is here! more villany? there's
+another goodly mutton going: my father is fleeced of all; grief will
+give him a box, i' faith--but 'tis no great matter; I shall inherit the
+sooner. Nay, soft, sir; you shall not pass so current with the matter,
+I'll shake you a little. Who goes there?
+
+SPEND. Out with the candle [_Aside._]: who's that asks the question?
+
+W. RASH. One that has some reason for't.
+
+SPEND. It should be, by the voice, young Rash. Why, we are honest folks.
+
+W. RASH. Pray, where do you dwell? Not in town, I hope?
+
+SPEND. Why, we dwell--zounds! where do we dwell? I know not where.
+
+W. RASH. And you'll be married, you know not when--zounds, it were a
+Christian deed to stop thee in thy journey: hast thou no more spirit in
+thee, but to let thy tongue betray thee? Suppose I had been a constable,
+you had been in a fine taking, had you not?
+
+    SPEND. But, my still worthy friend,
+    Is there no worse face of ill bent towards me
+    Than that thou merrily putt'st on?
+
+W. RASH. Yes, here's four or five faces more, but ne'er an ill one,
+though never an excellent good one. Boy, up with your lanthorn of light,
+and show him his associates, all running away with the flesh, as thou
+art. Go, yoke together, you may be oxen one day, and draw altogether in
+a plough; go, march together, the parson stays for you; pay him royally.
+Come, give me the lanthorns, for you have light sufficient, for night
+has put off his black cap, and salutes the morn. Now farewell, my little
+children of Cupid, that walk by two and two, as if you went a-feasting:
+let me hear no more words, but be gone.
+
+SPEND. _and_ STAINES. Farewell.
+
+GERT. _and_ JOYCE. Farewell, brother.
+
+                                       [_Exeunt. Manet_ WILL RASH.
+
+W. RASH. Ay, you may cry farewell; but if my father should know of my
+villany, how should I fare then? But all's one, I ha' done my sisters
+good, my friends good, and myself good; and a general good is always to
+be respected before a particular. There's eightscore pounds a year saved
+by the conveyance of this widow. I hear footsteps: now, darkness, take
+me into thy arms, and deliver me from discovery. [_Exit._
+
+_Enter_ SIR LIONEL.
+
+SIR LIONEL. Lord, Lord, what a careless world is this! neither bride nor
+bridegroom ready; time to go to church, and not a man unroosted: this
+age has not seen a young gallant rise with a candle; we live drowned in
+feather-beds, and dream of no other felicity. This was not the life when
+I was a young man. What makes us so weak as we are now? A feather-bed.
+What so unapt for exercise? A feather-bed. What breeds such pains and
+aches in our bones? why, a feather-bed or a wench--or at least a wench
+in a feather-bed. Is it not a shame that an old man as I am should be up
+first, and in a wedding-day? I think, in my conscience, there's more
+mettle in lads of threescore than in boys of one-and-twenty.
+
+_Enter_ BASKETHILT.
+
+    Why, Baskethilt!
+
+    BAS. Here, sir.
+
+    SIR LIONEL. Shall I not be trussed to-day?
+
+    BAS. Yes, sir; but I went for water.
+
+    SIR LIONEL. Is Will Rash up yet?
+
+    BAS. I think not, sir; for I heard nobody stirring in the house.
+
+    SIR LIONEL. Knock, sirrah, at his chamber.    [_Knock within._
+
+    The house might be pluck'd down and builded again
+    Before he'd wake with the noise.           [WILL RASH _aloft_.
+
+    W. RASH. Who's that keeps such a knocking; are you mad?
+
+    SIR LIONEL. Rather thou art drunk, thou lazy slouch,
+    That mak'st thy bed thy grave, and in it buryest
+    All thy youth and vigour: up, for shame.
+
+W. RASH. Why, 'tis not two a-clock yet.
+
+SIR LIONEL. Out, sluggish knave; 'tis nearer unto five: The whole house
+has outslept themselves, as if they had drunk wild poppy. Sirrah, go you
+and raise the maids, and let them call upon their mistresses.
+
+    BAS. Well, sir, I shall.                              [_Exit._
+
+_Enter_ SCATTERGOOD _and_ BUBBLE.
+
+SCAT. Did I eat any lettuce to supper last night, that I am so sleepy? I
+think it be daylight, brother Bubble.
+
+    BUB. What sayest thou, brother? heigh-ho!
+
+    SIR LIONEL. Fie, fie! not ready yet? what sluggishness
+    Hath seiz'd upon you? why, thine eyes are close still.
+
+BUB. As fast as a Kentish oyster. Surely I was begotten in a plum-tree,
+I ha' such a deal of gum about mine eyes.
+
+    SIR LIONEL. Lord, how you stand! I am asham'd to see
+    The sun should be a witness of your sloth.
+
+[_Enter_ BASKETHILT.]
+
+    Now, sir, your haste?
+
+    BAS. Marry, sir, there are guests coming to accompany you to church.
+
+    SIR LIONEL. Why, this is excellent; men, whom it not concerns,
+    Are more respective than we, that are main actors.
+
+    BUB. Father Rash, be not so outrageous: we
+    will go in and buckle ourselves all in good time.
+    How now! what's this about my shins?
+
+_Enter_ OLD GERALDINE _and_ LONGFIELD.
+
+SCAT. Methought our shanks were not fellows: we have metamorphosed our
+stockings for want of splendour.
+
+    BUB. Pray, what's that _splendour_?
+
+    SCAT. Why, 'tis the Latin word for a Christmas candle.  [_Exeunt._
+
+SIR LIONEL. O gentlemen, you love, you honour me. Welcome, welcome, good
+Master Geraldine; you have taken pains to accompany an undeserving
+friend.
+
+_Enter_ PHILLIS.
+
+    OLD GERA. You put us to a needless labour, sir,
+    To run and wind about for circumstance;[216]
+    When the plain word, "I thank you," would have serv'd.
+
+    SIR LIONEL. How now, wench; are the females ready yet?
+    The time comes on upon us, and we run backward:
+    We are so untoward in our business,
+    We think not what we have to do, nor what we do.
+
+PHIL. I know not, sir, whether they know what to do; but I am sure they
+have been at church well-nigh an hour. They were afraid you had got the
+start of them, which made them make such haste.
+
+    SIR LIONEL. Is't possible? what think you, gentlemen,
+    Are not these wenches forward? is there not virtue in a man
+    Can make young virgins leave their beds so soon?
+    But is the widow gone along with them?
+
+    PHIL. Yes, sir; why, she was the ringleader.
+
+    SIR LIONEL. I thought as much, for she knows what belongs to't.
+    Come, gentlemen; methinks 'tis sport to see
+    Young wenches run to church before their husbands.
+
+_Enter_ WILL RASH.
+
+    Faith, we shall make them blush for this ere night.
+    Ah, sirrah, are you come? why, that's well-said:
+    I marl'd indeed that all things were so quiet,
+    Which made me think th' had not unwrapp'd their sheets;
+
+_Enter Servant, with a cloak._
+
+    And then were they at church, I hold my life:
+    Maids think it long, till each be made a wife.
+    Hast thou my cloak, knave? well-said, put it on;
+    We'll after them: let me go, hasten both,
+    Both the bridegrooms forward; we'll walk a little
+    Softly on afore. But see, see, if they be not come
+    To fetch us now! We come, we come.
+    Bid them return, and save themselves this labour.
+
+_Enter_ SPENDALL, STAINES, GERALDINE, WIDOW, GERTRUDE, _and_ JOYCE.
+
+W. RASH. Now have I a quartan ague upon me.
+
+SIR LIONEL. Why, how now! why come you from church to kneel thus
+publicly? what's the matter?
+
+GERA. We kneel, sir, for your blessing.
+
+SIR LIONEL. How! my blessing? Master Geraldine, is not that your son?
+
+OLD GERA. Yes, sir; and that, I take it, is your daughter.
+
+SIR LIONEL. I suspect knavery. What are you? Why do you kneel
+hand-in-hand with her?
+
+STAINES. For a fatherly blessing too, sir.
+
+SIR LIONEL. Heyday! 'tis palpable, I am gull'd, and my sons Scattergood
+and Bubble fooled. You are married.
+
+    SPEND. Yes, sir, we are married.
+
+    SIR LIONEL. More villany! everything goes the wrong way.
+
+    SPEND. We shall go the right way anon, I hope.
+
+    SIR LIONEL. Yes, marry shall you; you shall e'en to the
+    Compter again, and that's the right way for you.
+
+    WID. O, you are wrong;
+    The prison that shall hold him are these arms.
+
+SIR LIONEL. I do fear that I shall turn stinkard, I do smell such a
+matter. You are married then?
+
+_Enter_ SCATTERGOOD _and_ BUBBLE.
+
+    SPEND. _Ecce signum!_ here's the wedding-ring t' affirm it.
+
+    SIR LIONEL. I believe the knave has drunk ipocras,
+    He is so pleasant.
+
+    SCAT. Good-morrow, gentlemen.
+
+    BUB. _Tu quoque_ to all: what, shall we go to church?
+    Come, I long to be about this gear.
+
+SIR LIONEL. Do you hear me; will you two go sleep again I take out the
+t'other nap; for you are both made coxcombs, and so am I.
+
+    SCAT. How! coxcombs?
+
+    SIR LIONEL. Yes, coxcombs.
+
+    SCAT. Father, that word coxcomb goes against my stomach.
+
+    BUB. And against mine; a man might ha' digested a woodcock better.
+
+    SIR LIONEL. You two come now to go to church to be married;
+    And they two come from church, and are married.
+
+    BUB. How! married? I would see that man durst marry her.
+
+    GERA. Why, sir, what would you do?
+
+    BUB. Why, sir, I would forbid the banns.
+
+    SCAT. And so would I.
+
+SIR LIONEL. Do you know that youth in satin? he's the pen that belongs
+to that inkhorn.
+
+    BUB. How! let me see; are not you my man Gervase?
+
+    STAINES. Yes, sir.
+
+    _Enter a_ SERJEANT.
+
+    BUB. And have you married her?
+
+    STAINES. Yes, sir.
+
+    BUB. And do you think you have us'd me well?
+
+    STAINES. Yes, sir.
+
+BUB. O intolerable rascal! I will presently be made a justice of peace,
+and have thee whipped. Go, fetch a constable.
+
+STAINES. Come, y' are a flourishing ass: serjeant, take him to thee, he
+has had a long time of his pageantry.
+
+SIR LIONEL. Sirrah, let him go; I'll be his bail for all debts which
+come against him.
+
+    STAINES. Reverend sir, to whom I owe the duty of a son,
+    Which I shall ever pay in my obedience;
+    Know, that which made him gracious in your eyes,
+    And gilded over his imperfections,
+    Is wasted and consumed even like ice,
+    Which by the vehemence of heat dissolves,
+    And glides to many rivers: so his wealth,
+    That felt a prodigal hand, hot in expense,
+    Melted within his gripe, and from his coffers
+    Ran like a violent stream to other men's.
+    What was my own, I catch'd at.
+
+    SIR LIONEL. Have you your mortgage in?
+
+    STAINES. Yes, sir.
+
+    SIR LIONEL. Stand up: the matter is well amended.
+    Master Geraldine, give you sufferance to this match?
+
+    OLD GERA. Yes, marry do I, sir; for, since they love,
+    I'll not have the crime lie on my head,
+    To divide man and wife.
+
+    SIR LIONEL. Why, you say well: my blessing fall upon you.
+
+    WID. And upon us that love, Sir Lionel.
+
+    SIR LIONEL. By my troth, since thou hast ta'en the young knave,
+    God give thee joy of him, and may he prove
+    A wiser man than his master.
+
+    STAINES. Serjeant, why dost not carry him to prison?
+
+    SER. Sir Lionel Rash will bail him.
+
+    SIR LIONEL. I bail him, knave! wherefore should I bail him?
+    No, carry him away, I'll relieve no prodigals.
+
+BUB. Good Sir Lionel, I beseech you, sir! gentlemen, I pray, make a
+purse for me.
+
+SER. Come, sir, come, are you begging?
+
+BUB. Why, that does you no harm. Gervase--master, I should say--some
+compassion.
+
+    STAINES. Serjeants, come back with him. Look, sir, here is
+    Your livery;
+    If you can put off all your former pride,
+    And put on this with that humility
+    That you first wore it, I will pay your debts,
+    Free you of all encumbrances,
+    And take you again into my service.
+
+BUB. Tenterhook, let me go. I will take his worship's offer without
+wages, rather than come into your clutches again: a man in a blue coat
+may have some colour for his knavery; in the Compter he can have none.
+
+SIR LIONEL. But now, Master Scattergood, what say you to this?
+
+SCAT. Marry, I say, 'tis scarce honest dealing, for any man to
+coneycatch another man's wife: I protest we'll not put it up.
+
+    STAINES. No! which _we_?
+
+    SCAT. Why, Gertrude and I.
+
+    STAINES. Gertrude! why, she'll put it up.
+
+    SCAT. Will she?
+
+    GERA. Ay, that she will, and so must you.
+
+    SCAT. Must I?
+
+    GERA. Yes, that you must.
+
+    SCAT. Well, if I must, I must; but I protest I would not,
+    But that I must: so _vale, vale: et tu quoque_.       [_Exit._
+
+    SIR LIONEL. Why, that's well said:
+    Then I perceive we shall wind up all wrong.
+    Come, gentlemen, and all our other guests,
+    Let our well-temper'd bloods taste Bacchus' feasts;
+    But let us know first how these sports delight,
+    And to these gentlemen each bid good night.[217]
+
+    W. RASH. Gentles, I hope, that well my labour ends;
+    All that I did was but to please my friends.
+
+    GERA. A kind enamoret I did strive to prove,
+    But now I leave that and pursue your love.
+
+    GERT. My part I have performed with the rest,
+    And, though I have not, yet I would do best.
+
+    STAINES. That I have cheated through the play, 'tis true:
+    But yet I hope I have not cheated you.
+
+    JOYCE. If with my clamours I have done you wrong,
+    Ever hereafter I will hold my tongue.
+
+    SPEND. If through my riot I have offensive been,
+    Henceforth I'll play the civil citizen.
+
+    WID. Faith, all that I say is, howe'er it hap,
+    Widows, like maids, sometimes may catch a clap.
+
+    BUB. To mirth and laughter henceforth I'll provoke ye,
+    If you but please to like of Green's _Tu quoque_.[218]
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+  [153]: See note 76 to "The Ordinary," [vol. xii.]
+
+  [154] [_i.e._, shillings. See the next page.]
+
+  [155] At the time this play was written, the same endeavours were
+  used, and the same lures thrown out, to tempt adventurers to migrate
+  to each of these places.
+
+  [156] Pirates are always hanged at Execution Dock, Wapping; and at the
+  moment when the tide is at the [ebb].--_Steevens_.
+
+  The following passage is from Stow's "Survey," vol. ii. b. 4, p. 37,
+  edit. 1720: "From this Precinct of St Katharine to Wappin in the Wose,
+  and Wappin it self, the usual Place of Execution for hanging of
+  Pirates and Sea-Rovers _at the low-Water Mark_, there to remain till
+  three Tides had overflowed them, was never a House standing within
+  these Forty Years (_i.e._, from the year 1598), but (since the Gallows
+  being after removed further off) is now a continual Street, or rather
+  a filthy straight Passage, with Lanes and Alleys of small Tenements or
+  Cottages, inhabited by Saylors and Victuallers along by the River of
+  Thames almost to Radcliff, a good Mile from the Tower."
+
+  [157] The old copies give it--
+
+      "_We_ suck'd a white leaf from my black-lipp'd pen."
+
+  --_Collier._
+
+  [158] The story here alluded to (for the notice of which I am obliged
+  to the kindness of Mr Steevens) is to be found in Stubbes's "Anatomie
+  of Abuses," 1595, p. 43. The reader will excuse the length of the
+  quotation. "But amongst many other fearful examples of Gods wrath
+  against pride, I would wish them to set before their eies the fearful
+  judgment of God showed upon a gentlewoman of Antwerpe of late, even
+  the 27 of Maie, 1582, the fearful sound whereof is blowne through all
+  the world, and is yet fresh in every mans memory. This gentlewoman,
+  being a very rich merchantmans daughter, upon a time was invited to a
+  bridal or wedding, which was solemnised in that towne, against which
+  day she made great preparation for the pluming of herself in gorgeous
+  aray: that as her body was most beautiful, faire, and proper, so her
+  attire in every respect might be answerable to the same. For the
+  accomplishment whereof, she curled her haire, she died her lockes, and
+  laid them out after the best manner: she colloured her face with
+  waters and ointments; but in no case could she get any (so curious and
+  dainty she was) that could startch and set her ruffes and neckerchers
+  to her minde: wherefore she sent for a couple of laundresses, who did
+  the best they could to please her humors, but in any wise they could
+  not: then fell she to sweare and teare, to curse and ban, casting the
+  ruffes under feete, and wishing that the devill might take her when
+  shee did weare any neckerchers againe. In the meane time (through the
+  sufferance of God) the devill transforming himselfe into the shape of
+  a young man, as brave and proper as she in every point, in outward
+  appearance, came in, faining himself to be a woer or sutor unto her:
+  and seeing her thus agonized, and in such a pelting chafe, he
+  demaunded of her the cause thereof, who straight way told him (as
+  women can conceal nothing that lieth upon their stomacks) how she was
+  abused in the setting of her ruffes; which thing being heard of him,
+  he promissed to please her mind, and so tooke in hande the setting of
+  her ruffes, which he performed to her great contentation and liking;
+  insomuch as she, looking herselfe in a glasse (as the devill bad her)
+  became greatly inamoured with him. This done, the young man kissed
+  her, in the doing whereof, hee writh her neck in sunder, so she dyed
+  miserably; her body being straight waies changed into blew and black
+  colours, most ugglesome to beholde, and her face (which before was so
+  amorous) became most deformed and fearfull to looke upon. This being
+  knowne in the cittie, great preparation was made for her buriall, and
+  a rich coffin was provided, and her fearfull body was laid therein,
+  and covered very sumptuously. Foure men immediately assayed to lift up
+  the corpes, but could not moove it; then sixe attempted the like, but
+  could not once stirre it from the place where it stood. Whereat the
+  standers by marvelling, caused the coffin to be opened to see the
+  cause thereof: where they found the body to be taken away, and a
+  blacke catte, very leane and deformed, sitting in the coffin, setting
+  of great ruffes, and frizling of haire, to the greate feare and
+  woonder of all the beholders."--_Reed._ [Stubbes was fond of these
+  examples. Compare "Shakespeare Society's Papers," iv. 71-88.]
+
+  [159] _i.e._, During the Court's progress, when the king or queen
+  visited the different counties.--_Steevens._
+
+  [160] _i.e._, Licentiously.
+
+  [161] A wine mentioned in the metrical romance of the "Squyr of Low
+  Degre"--
+
+                                  "Malmesyne,
+      Both _ypocrasse_ and vernage wine."
+
+  --_Steevens._ [See Hazlitt's "Popular Poetry," ii. 51.]
+
+  [162] _Shrove Tuesday_ was formerly a holiday for apprentices. So in
+  Ben Jonson's "Epicæne," act i. sc. 1, it is said of Morose, "he would
+  have hanged a pewterer's _'prentice_ on a _Shrove Tuesday's_ riot, for
+  being o' that trade, when the rest were quit."
+
+  On _Shrove Tuesday_ in the County of Sussex (and I suppose in many
+  others) apprentices are always permitted to visit their families or
+  friends, to eat pancakes, &c. This practice is called _shroving_.
+  "Apollo Shroving" is the name of an old comedy, written by a
+  schoolmaster in Suffolk [William Hawkins], to be performed by his
+  scholars on _Shrove Tuesday_, Feb. 6, 1626-7.
+
+  See note 6 to "The Hog hath lost his Pearl," _post_. The custom in
+  London, I believe, is almost abolished; it is, however, still retained
+  in many parts of the kingdom. [See "Popular Antiquities of Great
+  Britain," by Hazlitt, i. 47, where it is said] that "at Newcastle upon
+  Tyne the great bell of St Nicholas' Church is tolled at twelve o'clock
+  at noon on this day; shops are immediately shut up, offices closed,
+  and all kinds of business ceases; a sort of little carnival ensuing
+  for the remaining part of the day." Again: the custom of frying
+  pancakes (in turning of which in the pan there is usually a good deal
+  of pleasantry in the kitchen) is still retained in many families in
+  the north, but seems, if the present fashionable contempt of old
+  custom continues, not likely to last another century. The apprentices
+  whose particular holiday this day is now called, and who are on
+  several accounts so much interested in the observation of it, ought,
+  with that watchful jealousy of their ancient rights and liberties
+  (typified here by pudding and play) which becomes young Englishmen, to
+  guard against every infringement of its ceremonies, and transmit them
+  entire and unadulterated to posterity!" [A copious account of this
+  subject will be found in "Popular Antiquities of Great Britain," i.
+  37-54.]
+
+  [163] [Edits., here and below, _Mal go_.]
+
+  [164] [Clotted].
+
+  [165] A term of vulgar abuse. So Falstaff says, "Away, you scullion!
+  you _rampallian_! you fustilarian!"--"2d Part of Henry IV." act ii.
+  sc. i. See also Mr Steevens's note on the passage.
+
+  [166] _i.e._, Cupid. "_The bird-bolt_," Mr Steevens observes (note on
+  "Much Ado about Nothing," act i. sc. 1), "is a short, thick arrow,
+  without point, and spreading at the extremity so much as to leave a
+  flat surface, about the breadth of a shilling. Such are to this day in
+  use to kill rooks with, and are shot from a cross-bow."
+
+  [167] A _passion_ was formerly a name given to love-poems of the
+  plaintive species. Many of them are preserved in the miscellanies of
+  the times. See in "England's Helicon," 1600, "The Shepherd Damon's
+  _Passion_," and others.
+
+  [168] [A common form of _Walter_ in old plays and poetry. Joyce
+  intends, of course, a _jeu-de-mot_.]
+
+  [169] [This passage seems to fix with tolerable clearness the meaning
+  of the word _caroch_ and the kind of vehicle which was intended.
+  Compare Nares, 1859, in _v._]
+
+  [170] [_i.e._, This business succeed.]
+
+  [171] This street, Stow observes, in his time, was inhabited by
+  wealthy drapers, retailers of woollen cloths, both broad and narrow,
+  of all sorts, more than any one of the city.
+
+  [172] "_Dole_ was the term for the allowance of provision given to the
+  poor in great families" (Mr Steevens's note to "The Winter's Tale,"
+  act i. sc. 1). See also the notes of Sir John Hawkins and Mr Steevens
+  to "The First Part of King Henry IV.," act ii. sc. 2. Of this kind of
+  charily we have yet some remains, particularly, as Dr Ducarel
+  observes, "at Lambeth Palace, where thirty poor persons are relieved
+  by an alms called the DOLE, which is given three times a week to ten
+  persons at a time, alternately; each person then receiving upwards of
+  two pounds weight of beef, a pitcher of broth, a half quartern loaf,
+  and twopence in money. Besides this _dole_, there are always, on the
+  days it is given at least thirty other pitchers, called by-pitchers,
+  brought by other neighbouring poor, who partake of the remaining
+  broth, and the broken victuals that is at that time distributed.
+  Likewise at Queen's College in Oxford, provisions are to this day
+  frequently distributed to the poor at the door of their hall, under
+  the denomination of a DOLE."--[_Ducarel's_] "_Anglo-Norman
+  Antiquities, considered in a Tour through part of Normandy_," p. 81.
+
+  [173] Fine.
+
+  [174] So in Ben Jonson's "Epicæne," act i. sc. 2, one of the negative
+  qualities which Morose approved in Cutbeard was _that he had not the
+  knack with his shears or his fingers_, which, says Clerimont, "in a
+  barber, he (Morose) thinks so eminent a virtue, as it has made him
+  chief of his council."
+
+  [175] The spirit of enterprise which had been raised and encouraged in
+  the reign of Elizabeth was extremely favourable to the reputation of
+  those adventurers who sought to mend their fortunes by encountering
+  difficulties of any kind in a foreign country. Stukeley and the
+  Sherleys appear to have been held in great estimation by the people in
+  general. The former was a dissolute wretch, born in Devonshire, who
+  squandered away his property in riot and debauchery; then left the
+  kingdom, and signalised his valour at the battle fought at Alcazar in
+  Barbary, in August 1578, where he was killed. See an account of him in
+  a ballad, published in Evans's "Collection," 1777, ii. 103; also the
+  old play [by Peele] entitled, "The Battle of Alcazar, with the death
+  of Captain Stukeley," 4º, 1594. Of the Sherleys there were three
+  brothers, Sir Anthony, Sir Robert, and Mr. Robert; Sir Anthony was one
+  of those gallant spirits who went to annoy the Spaniards in their West
+  Indian settlements during the reign of Queen Elizabeth. He afterwards
+  travelled to Persia, and returned to England in the quality of
+  ambassador from the Sophy, in 1612. The next year he published an
+  account of his travels. He was by the emperor of Germany raised to the
+  dignity of a count; and the king of Spain made him admiral of the
+  Levant Sea. He died in Spain after the year 1630. Sir Robert was
+  introduced to the Persian court by his brother Sir Anthony; and was
+  also sent ambassador from the Sophy to James I., but did not arrive
+  until the accession of his successor; when, on his first audience with
+  the king (February, 1626), the Persian ambassador, then resident in
+  England, in the king's presence, snatched the letters which were
+  brought by him out of his hands, tore them to pieces, and struck him a
+  blow on the face; at the same time declaring him an impostor and the
+  letters forgeries. Charles, being unable to discover the truth of
+  these charges, sent both the ambassadors back to Persia, with another
+  from himself; but all three died in the course of the voyage. The
+  eldest brother was unfortunate.
+
+  [176] [In the edits, this passage is thus exhibited--
+
+      "SPEND. For your pains.
+
+      SER. I'll take my leave of you.
+
+      SPEND. What, must you be gone too, Master Blank?"
+
+  [177] Alluding to Stukeley's desperate condition when he quitted
+  England. [I think it alludes to nothing of the kind, but to the
+  numerous pamphlets which were printed about this time on the state of
+  Barbary, and Staines's idea of emigrating there and enlisting as a
+  soldier. A MS. note in former edit, says, in fact: "_i.e._, suggested
+  to me the necessity of making my fortune in Barbary, being no longer
+  able to stay here."]
+
+  [178] [A hit. Scattergood thought it was some superior tobacco brought
+  by Longfield from home.]
+
+  [179] [See Dyce's "Shakespeare Glossary," 1868, _v._ Novum, and
+  "Popular Antiquities of Great Britain," ii. 323. Edits., _Novum_ (a
+  common corruption).]
+
+  [180] A _bale of dice_ is the same as a _pair of dice_. So in Ben
+  Jonson's "New Inn," act i. sc. 3--
+
+      "For exercise of arms a _bale of dice_,
+      Or two or three packs of cards, to show the cheat,
+      And nimbleness of hand."
+
+  And in Marston's "What You Will," act iii. sc. 1--
+
+        "Marquesse of Mumchance, and sole regent over a _bale of false
+         dice_."
+
+  [181] Thus we learn from Melvil's Memoirs, p. 165, edit. 1735, that
+  the Laird of Grange offered to fight Bothwell, who answered that he
+  was neither earl nor lord, but a baron, and so was not his equal. The
+  like answer made he to Tullibardine. Then my Lord Lindsey offered to
+  fight him, which he could not well refuse. But his heart failed him,
+  and he grew cold on the business.--_Reed._
+
+  [182] _i.e._, Tothill Fields.--_Steevens._
+
+  [183] A _cue_, in stage cant, is the last words of the preceding
+  speech, and serves as a hint to him who is to speak next. See Mr
+  Steevens's note on "A Midsummer's Night's Dream," act iii. sc. 1. [But
+  here it means the plot which has been concerted between Geraldine and
+  the others (including Joyce), for inducing Gertrude to relent.
+
+  [184] [Edits., _his_.]
+
+  [185] Query, _Tax_.--_Gilchrist._
+
+  [186] [Old copy, _that_.]
+
+  [187] [Rash must be supposed to have conferred with Geraldine, and to
+  have arranged with him the device, which they here proceed to
+  execute.]
+
+  [188] [Geraldine is to feign death.]
+
+  [189] So Otway, in "The Orphan"--
+
+      "'Tis heaven to have thee, and without thee hell.
+
+  --_Steevens._
+
+  [190] At Hoxton. There is a tract entitled, "Pimlyco, or, Runne Red
+  Cap. 'Tis a Mad World at Hogsdon," 1609.
+
+  By the following passage in "The Alchemist," act v. sc. 2, it seems as
+  though _Pimlico_ had been the name of a person famous as the seller of
+  ale--
+
+                    "Gallants, men and women,
+      And of all sorts tag rag, been seen to flock here
+      In threaves these ten weeks as to a _second Hogsden_
+      In days of _Pimlico_ and Eye-bright."
+
+  --[Gifford's edit., 1816, v. 164.]
+
+  Pimlico, near Westminster, was formerly resorted to on the same
+  account as the former at Hoxton.
+
+  [191] Derby ale has ever been celebrated for its excellence. Camden,
+  speaking of the town of Derby, observes that "its present reputation
+  is for the assizes for the county, which are held here, and from the
+  _excellent ale brewed in it_." In 1698 Ned Ward published a poem
+  entitled, "Sots' Paradise, or the Humours of a Derby Alehouse; with a
+  Satire upon Ale."
+
+  [192] _i.e._, Pleases me. See note to "Cornelia" [v. 188.]
+
+  [193] Henslowe, in his Diary, mentions a play [by Martin Slaughter]
+  called "Alexander and Lodwicke," under date of 14th Jan. 1597, and in
+  Evans's "Collection of Old Ballads," 1810, there is a ballad with the
+  same title, and no doubt upon the same story.--_Collier._ [It is the
+  same tale as "Amis and Amiloun." See Hazlitt's "Shakespeare's
+  Library," 1875, introd. to "Pericles."]
+
+  [194] So in "King Richard III."--
+
+      "Thou troublest me: I am not in the vein."
+
+  --_Steevens._
+
+  [195] [Compare pp. 230-1.]
+
+  [196] [Compare p. 206.]
+
+  [197] [Compare p 206.]
+
+  [198] [The author had a well-known passage in Shakespeare in his
+  recollection when he wrote this. The edits, read--
+
+      "His hell, his habitation; nor has he
+      Any other local place."]
+
+  [199] [Edits., _men_.]
+
+  [200] [_i.e._, The pox.]
+
+  [201] Reed observes: "A parody on a line from 'The Spanish Tragedy'--
+
+      "'O eyes! no eyes; but fountains fraught with tears,'"
+
+  on which Mr Collier writes: "If a parody be intended, it is not a very
+  close one. The probability is, that the line is quoted by Rash from
+  some popular poem of the day."
+
+  It would be just as reasonable to call the following opening of a
+  sonnet by Sir P. Sidney a parody upon a line in the "Spanish
+  Tragedy"--
+
+      "O tears! no tears; but rain from beauty's skies."
+
+  In fact, it was a common mode of expression at the time. Thus in
+  "Albumazar," we have this exclamation--
+
+      "O lips! no lips; but leaves besmeared with dew."
+
+  [202] See note to "Cornelia," [_v._ 225.]
+
+  [203] These lines are taken from Marlowe's "Hero and Leander," 4º
+  1600, sig. B 3, [or Dyce's Marlowe, iii. 15.]
+
+  [204] Again, in "Cynthia's Revels," act v. sc. 3: "From _stabbing of
+  arms_, flapdragons, healths, whiffs, and all such swaggering humours,
+  good Mercury defend us," [edit. 1816, ii. 380.
+
+  This custom continued long after the writing of this play. The writer
+  of "The Character of England" [Evelyn], 1659, p. 37, speaking of the
+  excessive drinking then in use, adds, "Several encounters confirmed me
+  that they were but too frequent, and that there was a sort of perfect
+  debauchees, who style themselves Hectors; that, in their mad and
+  unheard-of revels, _pierce their own veins, to quaff their own blood_,
+  which some of them have drunk to that excess that they have died of
+  the intemperance."--_Reed._
+
+  [205] Alluding to the story of Friar Bacon's brazen head.--_Collier._
+
+  [206] The colour of servants' clothes.
+
+  [207] ["This is a most spirited and clever scene, and would act
+  capitally."--_MS. note in one of the former edits._]
+
+  [208] [Edits., _are_.]
+
+  [209] [Edits., _and_.]
+
+  [210] A Jack o' Lent was a puppet which was thrown at in _Lent_, like
+  Shrovetide cocks. See Mr Steevens's notes on "The Merry Wives of
+  Windsor," act iii. sc. 3, and act v. sc. 5.
+
+  [211] The whole of this scene seems levelled at Coriat.--_Gilchrist._
+
+  [212] Opportunely.--_Steevens._
+
+  [213] Meeting. So in "Hamlet," act iii. sc. 1--
+
+      "That he, as 'twere by accident, may here
+      _Affront_ Ophelia."
+
+  [214] An allusion, probably, to some old ballad. "Hamlet," act iii.
+  sc. 2, refers to the same, and appears to repeat the identical line,
+  which is also introduced in "Love's Labour's Lost," act iii. sc. 1.
+  Bishop Warburton observes that "amongst the country May-games there
+  was an hobby-horse which, when the puritanical humour of those times
+  opposed and discredited these games, was brought by the poets and
+  ballad-makers, as an instance of the ridiculous zeal of the sectaries"
+  (Note to "Hamlet.") See also Mr Steevens's note on the same passage.
+
+  Again, in Massinger's "Very Woman," act iii. sc. 1--
+
+      "How like an everlasting Morris dance it looks;
+      Nothing but _hobby-horse_ and Maid Marian."
+
+  The _hobby-horse_ was also introduced into the Christmas diversions,
+  as well as the May-games. In "A True Relation of the Faction begun at
+  Wisbich, by Fa. Edmonds, alias Weston, a Jesuite," 1595, &c., 4º,
+  1601, p. 7, is the following passage: "He lifted up his countenance,
+  as if a new spirit had bin put into him, and tooke upon him to
+  controll and finde fault with this and that (_as the comming into the
+  hall of a hobby-horse in Christmas_), affirming that he would no
+  longer tolerate these and those so grosse abuses, but would have them
+  reformed."
+
+  Whatever the allusion in the text be, the same is also probably made
+  in Drue's "Dutchess of Suffolk," 1631--
+
+        "CLUNIE. Answer me, _hobbihorse;_
+      Which way cross'd he you saw now?
+
+      JENKIN. Who do you speake to, sir?
+      _We have forgot the hobbihorse_."
+
+  --Sig. C 4.--_Gilchrist._
+
+  [215] See Dyce's Middleton, ii. 169.
+
+  [216] This line very strongly resembles another in "The Merchant of
+  Venice:"
+
+                                "You spend but time,
+      _To wind about_ my love with _circumstance_."
+
+  --_Steevens._
+
+  [217] "Is this the origin of epilogues by the characters?"--_MS. note
+  in former edit._
+
+  [218] "This is a very lively and pleasant comedy; crude and careless,
+  but full of life, humour, &c."--_MS. note in former edit._
+
+
+
+
+ALBUMAZAR.
+
+
+
+
+_EDITIONS._
+
+
+(1.) _Albumazar. A Comedy presented before the Kings Maiestie at
+Cambridge, the ninth of March, 1614. By the Gentlemen of Trinitie
+Colledge. London, Printed by Nicholas Okes for Walter Burre, and are to
+be sold at his Shop, in Pauls Church-yard._ 1615. 4º.
+
+(2.) _Albumazar. A Comedy presented before the Kings Maiesty at
+Cambridge. By the Gentlemen of Trinity Colledge. Newly revised and
+corrected by a speciall Hand. London, Printed by Nicholas Okes_ 1634.
+4º.
+
+[There is a third 4º printed in 1668, with an epilogue by Dryden.]
+
+
+[REEDS PREFACE.]
+
+[John] Tomkis,[219] [or Tomkins, son of Thomas Tomkins, a celebrated
+musician of the reign of James I.], the author of this play, was of
+Trinity College, Cambridge.
+
+In what part of the kingdom he was born, and what became of him after he
+quitted the University, are all circumstances alike unknown. That no
+memorials should remain of a person to whom the world is obliged for a
+performance of so much merit as "Albumazar" is allowed to possess,
+cannot but create surprise, and at the same time will demonstrate that
+genius is not always sufficient to excite the attention of
+contemporaries or the curiosity of posterity. Dryden [whose ignorance of
+our earlier literature is well known] not only seems to have been
+unaware to whom the world owed this piece, but also the time in which it
+was first represented. He has without any authority asserted that Ben
+Jonson--
+
+                                 "Chose this
+    As the best model of his masterpiece.
+    _Subtle_ was got by our _Albumazar_,
+    That _Alchymist_ by this _Astrologer;_
+    Here he was fashion'd, and, we may suppose,
+    He lik'd the fashion well who wore the cloaths."
+
+But in this particular he was certainly mistaken. The "Alchemist" was
+printed in 1612, and "Albumazar" was not performed until the year 1614,
+as will appear from the following particulars:--
+
+"King James," says a writer in the _Gentleman's Magazine_ for May 1756,
+p. 224, "made a progress to Cambridge and other parts in the winter of
+the year 1614, as is particularly taken notice of by Rapin, vol. ii. p.
+156, who observes that the play called 'Ignoramus' was then acted before
+his Majesty at Cambridge, and gave him infinite pleasure. I found in the
+library of Sir Edward Deering a minute in manuscript of what passed at
+Cambridge for the five days the king stayed there, which I shall here
+transcribe, for it accords perfectly with the account given by the
+historian, both of the king's progress and the play entitled
+"Ignoramus," and at the same time will afford us the best light to the
+matter in hand:--
+
+"On Tuesday the 7th of March 1614, was acted before the King, in Trinity
+College Hall--
+
+"1. Æmilia: A Latin Comedy, made by Mr Cecill Johannis.
+
+"On Wednesday night--
+
+"2. Ignoramus the Lawyer[220]: Latine and part English. Composed by Mr
+Ruggle Clarensis.
+
+"On Thursday--
+
+"3. Albumazar the Astronomer, in English. By Mr Tomkis, Trinit.
+
+"On Friday--
+
+"4. Melanthe[221]: A Latin Pastoral. Made by Mr [S.] Brookes (mox
+doctor) Trinitatis.
+
+"On the next Monday--
+
+"5. The Piscatory, an English Comedy, was acted before the University,
+in King's College, which Master Fletcher[222] of that College had
+provided, if the King should have tarried another night."
+
+Part of the above account is confirmed in a letter from John Chamberlain
+to Sir Dudley Carlton, at Turin, dated 16th March 1614, lately printed
+in "Miscellaneous State Papers, from 1501 to 1726," i. 395: "The King
+and Prince lay at Trinity College, where the plays were represented; and
+the hall so well ordered for room, that above 2000 persons were
+conveniently placed. The first night's entertainment was a comedy, and
+acted by St John's men, the chief part consisting of a counterfeit Sir
+Edward Ratcliffe, a foolish tutor of physic, which proved but a lean
+argument; and, though it were larded with pretty shows at the beginning
+and end, and with somewhat too broad speech for such a presence, yet it
+was still dry. The second night was a comedy of Clare Hall, with the
+help of two or three good actors from other houses, wherein David
+Drummond, in a hobby-horse, and Brakin the recorder of the town, under
+the name of Ignoramus,[223] a common lawyer, bare great parts. The thing
+was full of mirth and variety, with many excellent actors (among whom
+the Lord Compton's son,[224] though least, was not worst), but more than
+half marred with extreme length. The third night was an English comedy
+called ALBUMAZAR, of Trinity College's action and invention; but there
+was no great matter in it, more than one good clown's part. The last
+night was a Latin Pastoral, of the same house, excellently written, and
+as well acted, which gave great contentment, as well to the King as to
+the rest."
+
+After the Restoration, "Albumazar" was revived, and Mr Dryden wrote a
+prologue to it, which is printed in every edition of his works.
+
+Although it does not appear to have been upon the list of acting plays,
+yet the reputation which it had obtained induced Mr Ralph to build upon
+it a comedy which, after ten years' application, was performed at Drury
+Lane in 1744, under the title of "The Astrologer." It was acted,
+however, only one night, when the receipts of the house amounted but to
+twenty-one pounds. On the second night, the manager was obliged to shut
+up his doors for want of an audience. (See advertisement prefixed to the
+play.)
+
+It cannot be denied that "Albumazar" has not been a favourite play with
+the people in general. About the year 1748, soon after Mr Garrick became
+manager of Drury Lane Theatre, he caused it to be revived, and gave it
+every advantage which could be derived from the assistance of the best
+performers; but though admirably acted, it does not appear to have met
+with much success. It was again revived at the same theatre in 1773,
+with some alterations, and was again coldly received, though supported
+by the best comic performers of the times. The piece, on this revival,
+received some alterations from the pen of Mr Garrick, and was published
+in 8º, 1773.
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+  [219] This is the name given to the author of "Albumazar" in the MS.
+  of Sir Edward Deering. I am, however, of opinion that it should be
+  written TOMKINS, and that he is the same person who is addressed by
+  Phineas Fletcher by the names of Mr _Jo. Tomkins_, in a copy of
+  verses, wherein he says--
+
+      "To thee I here bequeath the courtly joyes,
+     _Seeing to court my Thomalin is bent:_
+      Take from thy Thirsil these his idle toyes;
+      Here I will end my looser merriment."
+
+  --"Poetical Miscellanies," printed at the end of "The Purple Island,"
+  1633, p. 69.
+
+  If this conjecture is allowed to be founded in probability, the author
+  of "Albumazar" may have been John Tomkins, bachelor of music, who,
+  Wood says, "was one of the organists of St Paul's Cathedral, and
+  _afterwards gentleman of the Chapel Royal_, then in high esteem for
+  his admirable knowledge in the theoretical and practical part of his
+  faculty. At length, being translated to the celestial choir of angels,
+  on the 27th Sept. an. 1626, aged 52, was buried in the said
+  cathedral." It may be added that Phineas Fletcher, who wrote a play to
+  be exhibited in the same week with "Albumazar," celebrates his friend
+  Tomkins's skill in music as well as poetry.
+
+  [220] I have seen no earlier edition of this play than one in 12º,
+  1630--"Ignoramus Comoedia coram Regia Majestate Jacobi Regis Angliæ,
+  &c. Londini Impensis, I.S. 1630." The names of the original actors are
+  preserved in the Supplement to Granger's "Biographical History of
+  England," p. 146.
+
+  [221] "Melanthe, fabula pastoralis, acta cum Jacobus, Magnæ Brit.
+  Franc. et Hiberniæ Rex, Cantabrigiam suam nuper inviserat, ibidemque
+  musarum atque animi gratia dies quinque commoraretur. Egerunt Alumni
+  Coll. San. et individuæ Trinitatis Cantabrigiæ, 1615."
+
+  [222] This was Phineas Fletcher, son of Dr Giles Fletcher, and author
+  of "The Purple Island," an allegorical poem, 4º, 1633; "Locustæ vel
+  Pietas Jesuitica," 4º, 1627; "Piscatory Eclogues;" and other pieces.
+  The play above-mentioned was, I believe, not published until 1631,
+  when it appeared under the title of "Sicelides, a Piscatory, as it
+  hath beene acted in King's College, in Cambridge."
+
+  [223] The list printed by Mr Granger assigns this part to Mr
+  Perkinson, of Clare Hall.
+
+  [224] Mr Compton of Queen's College performed the part of _Vince_. See
+  Granger.
+
+
+
+
+DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.
+
+
+    ALBUMAZAR,[225] _an astrologer_.
+    RONCA,   }
+    HARPAX,  }  _thieves_.
+    FURBO,   }
+    PANDOLFO, _an old gentleman_.
+    CRICCA, _his servant_.
+    TRINCALO, _Pandolfo's farmer_.
+    ARMELLINA, _Antonio's Maid_.
+    LELIO, _Antonio's son_.
+    EUGENIO, _Pandolfo's son_.
+    FLAVIA, _Antonio's daughter_.
+    SULPITIA, _Pandolfo's daughter_.
+    BEVILONA, _a courtesan_.
+    ANTONIO, _an old gentleman_.
+
+  [225] "Albumazar" is the name of a famous Persian astrologer viz., Abu
+  ma shar.--"Universal History," v. 413; Collier's "Dictionary," _in
+  voce_.--_Pegge._
+
+
+
+
+THE PROLOGUE.
+
+
+    The brightness of so great and fair a presence,
+    They say, strikes cold amazement. But I feel
+    Contrary effects. For from the gracious centre
+    O' the honourable assembly some secret power
+    Inflames my courage; and methinks I am grown
+    Taller by th' virtue of this audience.
+    And yet, thus rais'd, I fear there's no retiring.
+    Ladies, whose beauties glad the whole assembly,
+    Upon your favours I impose my business.
+    If't be a fault to speak this foreign language,
+    (For Latin is our mother tongue)[226] I must entreat you
+    To frame excuses for us; for whose sake
+    We now speak English. All the rest we hope
+    Come purposely to grace our poor endeavours,
+    As we to please. In whose fair courtesy
+    We trust, not in our weak ability.
+
+  [226] It is observed by the writer in the _Gentleman's Magazine_,
+  1756, p. 225, that "the exercises of the University were not only
+  performed in Latin; but the plays, written in this and the former
+  reign, for the entertainment of the Court, whenever it removed, either
+  to Oxford or Cambridge, were generally composed in that language. Thus
+  'Æmilia,' 'Ignoramus,' and 'Melanthe,' all acted at the same time with
+  'Albumazar,' were in Latin. Both King James and Queen Elizabeth were
+  Latinists."
+
+
+
+
+ALBUMAZAR.[227]
+
+
+
+
+ACT I, SCENE 1.
+
+
+_Enter_ ALBUMAZAR, HARPAX, RONCA.
+
+    ALB. Come, brave mercurials, sublim'd in cheating;
+    My dear companions, fellow-soldiers
+    I' th' watchful exercise of thievery:
+    Shame not at your so large profession,
+    No more than I at deep astrology;
+    For in the days of old, _Good morrow, thief_,
+    As welcome was received, as now _your worship_.
+    The Spartans held it lawful,[228] and the Arabians;[229]
+    So grew Arabia felix, Sparta valiant.
+
+
+    RON. Read on this lecture, wise Albumazar.
+
+    ALB. Your patron, Mercury, in his mysterious character
+    Holds all the marks of the other wanderers,[230]
+    And with his subtle influence works in all,
+    Filling their stories full of robberies.
+    Most trades and callings must participate
+    Of yours, though smoothly gilt with th' honest title
+    Of merchant, lawyer, or such like--the learned
+    Only excepted, and he's therefore poor.
+
+    HAR. And yet he steals, one author from another.
+    This poet is that poet's plagiary.
+    And he a third's, till they end all in Homer.
+
+    ALB. And Homer filch'd all from an Egyptian priestess,[231]
+    The world's a theatre of theft. Great rivers[232]
+    Rob smaller brooks, and them the ocean;
+    And in this world of ours, this microcosm,
+    Guts from the stomach steal, and what they spare,
+    The meseraics filch, and lay't i' the liver:
+    Where, lest it should be found, turn'd to red nectar,
+    'Tis by a thousand thievish veins convey'd,
+    And hid in flesh, nerves, bones, muscles, and sinews:
+    In tendons, skin, and hair; so that, the property
+    Thus alter'd, the theft can never be discover'd.
+    Now all these pilf'ries, couch'd and compos'd in order,
+    Frame thee and me. Man's a quick mass of thievery.
+
+    RON. Most philosophical Albumazar!
+
+    HAR. I thought these parts had lent and borrowed mutual.
+
+    ALB. Say, they do so: 'tis done with full intention
+    Ne'er to restore, and that's flat robbery.
+    Therefore go on: follow your virtuous laws,
+    Your cardinal virtue, _great necessity;_
+    Wait on her close with all occasions;
+    Be watchful, have as many eyes as heaven,
+    And ears as harvest: be resolv'd and impudent:
+    Believe none, trust none; for in this city
+    (As in a fought field, crows and carcases)
+    No dwellers are but cheaters and cheatees.
+
+    RON. If all the houses in the town were prisons,
+    The chambers cages, all the settles[233] stocks,
+    The broad-gates, gallowses, and the whole people
+    Justices, juries, constables, keepers, and hangmen,
+    I'd practise, spite of all; and leave behind me
+    A fruitful seminary of our profession,
+    And call them by the name of Albumazarians.
+
+    HAR. And I no less, were all the city thieves
+    As cunning as thyself.
+
+    ALB. Why, bravely spoken:
+    Fitting such generous spirits! I'll make way
+    To your great virtue with a deep resemblance
+    Of high astrology. Harpax and Ronca,
+    List to our project:[234] I have new-lodg'd a prey
+    Hard by, that (taken) is, so fat and rich,
+    'Twill make us leave off trading, and fall to purchase.
+
+    HAR. Who is't? speak quickly.
+
+    RON. Where, good Albumazar?
+
+    ALB. 'Tis a rich gentleman, as old as foolish;
+    The poor remnant of whose brain, that age had left him,
+    The doting love of a young girl hath dried:
+    And, which concerns us most, he gives firm credit
+    To necromancy and astrology.
+
+_Enter_ FURBO.
+
+    Sending to me, as one, that promise both.
+    Pandolfo is the man.
+
+    HAR. What, old Pandolfo?
+
+    ALB. The same: but stay, yon's Furbo, whose smooth[235] brow
+    Shines with good news, and's visage promises
+    Triumphs and trophies to's.                    [FURBO _plays_.
+
+    RON. On my life
+    He has learnt out all; I know it by his music.[236]
+
+_Then_ FURBO _sings this song_.
+
+    _Bear up thy learned brow, Albumazar;_
+    _Live long, of all the world admir'd,_
+    _For art profound and skill retir'd,_
+    _To cheating by the height of star:[237]_
+    _Hence, gipsies, hence; hence, rogues of baser strain,_
+    _That hazard life for little gain:_
+    _Stand off and, wonder, gape and gaze afar_
+    _At the rare skill of great Albumazar._
+
+    FUR. Albumazar,
+    Spread out thy nets at large, here's fowl abundance:
+    Pandolfo's ours; I understand his business,
+    Which I filch'd closely[238] from him, while he reveal'd
+    T' his man his purposes and projects.
+
+    ALB. Excellent!
+
+    FUR. Thanks to this instrument: for, in pretence
+    Of teaching young Sulpitia, th' old man's daughter,
+    I got access to th' house, and while I waited
+    Till she was ready, overheard Pandolfo
+    Open his secrets to his servant. Thus 'tis:
+    Antonio, Pandolfo's friend and neighbour,
+    Before he went to Barbary, agreed
+    To give in marriage----
+
+    ALB. Furbo, this is no place
+    Fit to consider curious points of business:
+    Come, let's away, I'll hear't at large above.
+    Ronca, stay you below, and entertain him
+    With a loud noise, of my deep skill in art;
+    Thou know'st my rosy[239] modesty cannot do it.
+    Harpax, up you, and from my bedchamber,
+    Where all things for our purposes are ready,
+    Second each beck and nod, and word of ours.
+    You know my meaning?
+
+    HAR. Yes, yes.
+
+    FUR. Yes, sir.
+
+             [FURBO _goes out singing, Fa la la, Pandolfo's ours_.
+
+
+SCENE II.
+
+RONCA, PANDOLFO, CRICCA.
+
+    RON. There's old Pandolfo, amorous as youthful May,
+    And grey as January: I'll attend him here.
+
+    PAN. Cricca, I seek thy aid, not thy cross counsel;
+    I am mad in love with Flavia, and must have her:
+    Thou spend'st thy reasons to the contrary,
+    Like arrows 'gainst an anvil: I love Flavia,
+    And must have Flavia.
+
+    CRI. Sir, you have no reason;
+    She's a young girl of sixteen, you of sixty.
+
+    PAN. I have no reason, nor spare room for any.
+    Love's harbinger hath chalk'd upon my heart,
+    And with a coal writ on my brain, for Flavia;[240]
+    This house is wholly taken up for Flavia.
+    Let reason get a lodging with her wit:
+    Vex me no more, I must have Flavia.
+
+    CRI. But, sir, her brother Lelio, under whose charge
+    She's now after her father's death, sware boldly,
+    Pandolfo never shall have Flavia.
+
+    PAN. His father, ere he went to Barbary,
+    Promis'd her me: who, be he live or dead,
+    Spite of a list[241] of Lelios, Pandolfo
+    Shall enjoy Flavia.
+
+    CRI. Sir, y' are too old.
+
+    PAN. I must confess, in years about threescore,
+    But in tough strength of body four-and-twenty,
+    Or few[242] months less. Love of Young Flavia,
+    More powerful than Medea's drugs, renews
+    All decay'd parts of man: my arteries,
+    Blown full with youthful spirits, move the blood
+    To a new business: my wither'd nerves grow plump
+    And strong, longing for action. Hence, thou poor prop
+    Of feebleness and age! walk with such sires,
+    [_Throws away his staff._]
+    As with cold palsies shake away their strength,
+    And lose their legs with cureless gouts. Pandolfo
+    New-moulded is for revels, masques and music. Cricca,
+    String my neglected lute, and from my armoury
+    Scour my best sword, companion of my youth,
+    Without which I seem naked.
+
+    CRI. Your love, sir, like strong water
+    To a deplor'd sick man, quicks your feeble limbs
+    For a poor moment; but, after one night's lodging,
+    You'll fall so dull and cold, that Flavia
+    Will shriek, and leap from bed as from a sepulchre.
+    Shall I speak plainer, sir? she'll cuckold you--
+    Alas! she'll cuckold you.
+
+    PAN. What, me! a man of known discretion;
+    Of riches, years, and this grey gravity?
+    I'll satisfy'r with gold, rich clothes, and jewels.
+
+    CRI. Were't not far fitter urge your son Eugenio
+    To woo her for himself?
+
+    PAN. Cricca, begone!
+    Touch no more there: I will and must have Flavia.
+    Tell Lelio, if he grant m' his sister Flavia,
+    I'll give my daughter to him in exchange.
+    Begone, and find me here within this half-hour.
+
+
+SCENE III
+
+RONCA, PANDOLFO.
+
+    RON. 'Tis well that servant's gone: I shall the easier
+    Wind up his master to my purposes.
+
+    PAN. Sure, this some novice of th' artillery,
+    That winks and shoots: sir, prime your piece anew,
+    The powder's wet.                       [_Knocks at the door._
+
+    RON. A good ascendant:[243] bless me, sir, are you frantic?
+
+    PAN. Why frantic? are not two knocks the lawful courses
+    To open doors and ears?
+
+
+    RON. Of vulgar men and houses.
+
+    PAN. Whose lodging's this? is't not the astrologer's?
+
+    RON. His lodging! no: 'tis the learn'd frontisterion[244]
+    Of most divine Albumazar.
+
+    PAN. Good sir,
+    If the door break, a better shall redeem it.
+
+    RON. How! all your land, sold at a hundred years' purchase,
+    Cannot repair the damage of one poor rap:
+    To thunder at the frontisterion
+    Of great Albumazar!
+
+    PAN. Why, man, what harm?
+
+    RON. Sir, you must know my master's heavenly brain,
+    Pregnant with mysteries of metaphysics,
+    Grows to an embryo of rare contemplation
+    Which, at full time brought forth, excels by far
+    The armed fruit of Vulcan's midwif'ry,
+    That leap'd from Jupiter's mighty cranium.
+
+    PAN. What of all this?
+
+    RON. Thus: one of your bold thunders may abortive,
+    And cause that birth miscarry, that might have prov'd
+    An instrument of wonders, greater and rarer
+    Than Apollonius the magician wrought.[245]
+
+    PAN. Are you your master's countryman?
+
+    RON. Yes; why ask you?
+
+    PAN. Then must I get an interpreter for your language.
+
+    RON. You need not;
+    With a wind-instrument my master made,
+    In five days you may breathe ten languages,
+    As perfect as the devil or himself.
+
+    PAN. When may I speak with him?
+
+    RON. When't please the stars.
+    He pulls you not a hair, nor pares a nail,
+    Nor stirs a foot, without due figuring
+    The horoscope.  Sit down awhile, and't please you,
+    I see the heavens incline to his approach.
+
+    PAN. What's this, I pray you?
+
+    RON. An engine to catch stars,
+    A mace to arrest such planets as have lurk'd
+    Four thousand years under protection
+    Of Jupiter and Sol.
+
+    PAN. Pray you, speak English.
+
+    RON. Sir, 'tis a perspicil,[246] the best under heaven:
+    With this I'll read a leaf of that small Iliad
+    That in a walnut-shell was desk'd, as plainly
+    Twelve long miles off, as you see Paul's from Highgate.
+
+    PAN. Wonderful workman of so rare an instrument!
+
+    RON. 'Twill draw the moon so near, that you would swear
+    The bush of thorns in't pricks your eyes: the crystal
+    Of a large arch multiplies millions,
+    Works more than by point-blank, and by refractions
+    Optic and strange searcheth, like the eye of truth,
+    All closets that have windows. Have at Rome!
+    I see the pope, his cardinals and his mule,
+    The English college and the Jesuits,
+    And what they write and do.
+
+    PAN. Let me see, too.
+
+    RON. So far you cannot: for this glass is fram'd
+    For eyes of thirty; you are nigh threescore.
+    But for some fifty miles 'twill serve you,
+    With help of a refractive glass that's yonder.
+    For trial, sir; where are you now?
+
+    PAN. In London.
+
+    RON. Ha' you found the glass within that chamber?
+
+    PAN. Yes.
+
+    RON. What see you?
+
+    PAN. Wonders! wonders! I see, as in a landscape,
+    An honourable throng of noble persons,
+    As clear as I were under the same roof:
+    Seems by their gracious brows and courteous looks
+    Something they see, which if it be indifferent,
+    They'll fav'rably accept: if otherwise,
+    They'll pardon: who or what they be, I know not.
+
+    RON. Why, that's the court at Cambridge, forty miles hence.
+    What else?
+
+    PAN. A hall thrust full of bare heads, some bald, some bush'd,
+    Some bravely branch'd.[247]
+
+    RON. That's the university,
+    Larded with townsmen.  Look you there, what now?
+
+    PAN. Who? I see Dover Pier, a man now landing.
+    Attended by two porters, that seem to groan
+    Under the burden of two loads of paper.
+
+    RON. That's Coriatus Persicus[248] and's observations
+    Of Asia and Afric.
+
+    PAN. The price?
+
+    RON. I dare not sell't;
+    But here's another of a stranger virtue.
+    The great Albumazar, by wondrous art,
+    In imitation of this perspicil,
+    Hath fram'd an instrument that magnifies
+    Objects of hearing, as this doth of seeing;
+    That you may know each whisper from Prester John
+    Against the wind, as fresh as 'twere delivered
+    Through a trunk or Gloucester's list'ning wall.[249]
+
+    PAN. And may I see it, sir? Bless me once more.
+
+    RON. 'Tis something ceremonious; but you shall try't.
+    Stand thus. What hear you?
+
+    PAN. Nothing.
+
+    RON. Set your hands thus,
+    That the vertex of the organ may perpendicularly
+    Point at our zenith. What hear you now?    [_Laughing within._
+
+    PAN. A humming noise of laughter.
+
+    RON. Why, that's the court
+    And university, that now are merry
+    With an old gentlemen in a comedy. What now?
+
+    PAN. Celestial music; but it seems far off.
+    List, list! 'tis nearer now.
+
+    RON. Tis music 'twixt the acts. What now?
+
+    PAN. Nothing.
+
+    RON. And now?
+
+    PAN. Music again, and strangely delicate, O, most angelical!
+
+    RON. And now?                       [_They sing[250] within._]
+    _Sing sweetly, that our notes may cause_
+    _The heavenly orbs themselves to pause:_
+    _And at our music stand as still_
+    _As at Jove's amorous will.[251]_
+    _So now release them as before,_
+    _Th' have waited long enough; no more._
+
+    PAN. 'Tis gone, give me't again. O, do not so.
+
+    RON. What hear you now?
+
+    PAN. No more than a dead oyster.
+    O, let me see this wond'rous instrument.
+
+    RON. Sir, this is called an autocousticon.[252]
+
+    PAN. Autocousticon![253]
+    Why, 'tis a pair of ass's ears, and large ones.
+
+    RON. True; for in such a form the great Albumazar
+    Hath fram'd it purposely, as fitt'st receivers
+    Of sounds, as spectacles like eyes for sight.
+
+    PAN. What gold will buy't?
+
+    RON. I'll sell't you when 'tis finish'd.
+    As yet the epiglottis[254] is unperfect.
+
+    PAN. Soon as you can; and here's ten crowns in earnest.
+    For when 'tis done, and I have purchas'd it,
+    I mean t' entail it on my heirs-male for ever,
+    Spite of the ruptures of the common law.
+
+    RON. Nay, rather giv't to Flavia for her jointure:
+    For she that marries you deserves it richly.
+
+
+SCENE IV.
+
+CRICCA, PANDOLFO, RONCA.
+
+    CRI. Sir, I have spoke with Lelio, and he answers----
+
+    PAN. Hang Lelio and his answers. Come hither, Cricca,
+    Wonder for me, admire, and be astonish'd;
+    Marvel thyself to marble at these engines,
+    These strange Gorgonian instruments.
+
+    CRI. At what?
+
+    PAN. At this rare perspicil and autocousticon:
+    For with these two I'll hear and see all secrets;
+    Undo intelligencers. Pray, let my man see
+    What's done in Rome; his eyes are just as yours are.
+
+    RON. Pandolfo, are you mad? be wise and secret;
+    See you the steep danger you are tumbling in?
+    Know you not that these instruments have power
+    To unlock the hidden'st closets of whole states?
+    And you reveal such mysteries to a servant?
+    Sir, be advis'd, or else you learn no more
+    Of our unknown philosophy.
+
+    PAN.                                    Enough.
+    What news from Lelio? Shall I have his sister?
+
+    CRI. He swears and vows he never will consent.
+    She shall not play with worn antiquities,
+    Nor lie with snow and statues; and such replies
+    That I omit for reverence of your worship.
+
+    PAN. Not have his sister! Cricca, I will have Flavia,
+    Maugre his head:[255] by means of this astrologer,
+    I'll enjoy Flavia. Are the stars yet inclin'd
+    To his divine approach?
+
+    RON. One minute brings him.
+
+    CRI. What 'strologer?
+
+    PAN. The learned man I told thee,
+    The high Almanac of Germany; an Indian
+    Far beyond Trebisond and Tripoli,
+    Close by the world's end: a rare conjuror
+    And great astrologer. His name, pray, sir?
+
+    RON. Albumazarro Meteoroscopico.
+
+    CRI. A name of force to hang him without trial.
+
+    PAN. As he excels in science, so in title.
+    He tells of lost plate, horses, and stray'd cattle
+    Directly, as he had stol'n them all himself.
+
+    CRI. Or he or some of his confederates.
+
+    PAN. As thou respect'st thy life, look to thy tongue;
+    Albumazar has an autocousticon.
+    Be silent, reverent, and admire his skill.
+    See what a promising countenance appears!
+    Stand still and wonder--wonder and stand still.
+
+
+SCENE V.
+
+ALBUMAZAR, RONCA, PANDOLFO, CRICCA.
+
+    ALB. Ronca, the bunch of planets new found out,
+    Hanging at the end of my best perspicil,
+    Send them to Galileo at Padua:[256]
+    Let him bestow them where he please. But the stars,
+    Lately discover'd 'twixt the horns of Aries,
+    Are as a present for Pandolfo's marriage,
+    And hence styl'd Sidera Pandolfaea.
+
+    PAN. My marriage, Cricca! he foresees my marriage:
+    O most celestial Albumazar!
+
+    CRI. And sends y' a present from the head of Aries.[257]
+
+    ALB. My almanac, made for the meridian
+    And height of Japan, give't th' East India Company;
+    There may they smell the price of cloves and pepper,
+    Monkeys and china dishes, five years ensuing.
+    And know the success of the voyage of Magores;[258]
+    For, in the volume of the firmament,
+    We children of the stars read things to come,
+    As clearly as poor mortals stories pass'd
+    In Speed or Holinshed. The perpetual motion[259]
+    With a true 'larum in't, to run twelve hours
+    'Fore Mahomet's return,[260] deliver it safe
+    To a Turkey factor: bid him with care present it
+    From me to the house of Ottoman.
+
+    RON. I will, sir.
+
+    CRI. Pray you, stand here, and wonder now for me;
+    Be astonish'd at his jargon,[261] for I cannot.
+    I'll pawn[262] my life he proves a mere impostor.    [_Aside._
+
+    PAN. Peace, not a word, be silent and admire.
+
+    ALB. As for the issue of the next summer's wars.
+    Reveal't to none, keep it to thyself in secret,
+    As touchstone of my skill in prophecy. Begone.
+
+    RON. I go, sir.                                       [_Exit._
+
+    ALB. Signior Pandolfo, I pray you, pardon me,
+    Exotical despatches of great consequence
+    Stay'd me; and casting the nativity
+    O' th' Cham of Tartary, and a private conference
+    With a mercurial intelligence.
+    Y' are welcome in a good hour, better minute,
+    Best second, happiest third, fourth, fifth, and scruple.
+    Let the twelve houses of the horoscope
+    Be lodg'd with fortitudes and fortunates,[263]
+    To make you bless'd in your designs, Pandolfo.
+
+    PAN. Were't not much trouble to your starry employments,
+    I, a poor mortal, would entreat your furtherance
+    In a terrestrial business.
+
+    ALB. My ephemeris[264] lies,
+    Or I foresee your errand. Thus, 'tis thus.
+    You had a neighbour call'd Antonio,
+    A widower like yourself, whose only daughter,
+    Flavia, you love, and he as much admir'd
+    Your child Sulpitia. Is not this right?
+
+    PAN. Yes, sir: O strange! Cricca, admire in silence.
+
+    ALB. You two decreed a countermatch betwixt you,
+    And purposed to truck daughters. Is't not so?
+
+    PAN. Just as you say't. Cricca, admire and wonder.
+
+    CRI. This is no such secret: look to yourself; he'll cheat you.
+                                                        [_Aside._]
+
+    ALB. Antonio, after this match concluded,
+    Having great sums of gold in Barbary,
+    Desires of you, before he consummate
+    The rites of matrimony, he might go thither
+    For three months; but as now 'tis three and three,
+    Since he embark'd, and is not yet return'd;
+    Now, sir, your business is to me to know
+    Whether Antonio be dead or living.
+    I'll tell you instantly.
+
+    PAN. Hast thou reveal'd it?
+    I told it none but thee.
+
+    CRI. Not I.
+
+    PAN. Why stare you?
+    Are you not well?
+
+    ALB. I wander 'twixt the poles
+    And heavenly hinges, 'mongst excentricals,
+    Centres, concentrics, circles, and epicycles,
+    To hunt out an aspect fit for your business.
+
+    CRI. Mean ostentation! For shame, awake yourself.    [_Aside._
+
+    ALB. And, since the lamp of heaven is newly enter'd
+    To Cancer, old Antonio is stark dead,
+    Drown'd in the sea, stone dead; for _radius directorius_
+    In the sixth house, and the waning moon by Capricorn;
+    He's dead, he's dead.
+
+    CRI. 'Tis an ill time to marry.
+    The moon grows fork'd, and walks with Capricorn.
+
+    PAN. Peace, fool! these words are full of mysteries.
+
+    ALB. What ominous face and dismal countenance,
+    Mark'd for disasters, hated of all the heavens,
+    Is this that follows you?
+
+    PAN. He is my servant;
+    A plain and honest speaker, but no harm in him.
+
+    CRI. What see you in my face?
+
+    ALB. Horror and darkness, death and gallowses:
+    I'd swear thou'rt hang'd, stood'st thou but two foot higher;
+    But now thy stars threaten a nearer death.
+    Sir, send to toll his knell.
+
+    PAN. What, is he dead?
+
+    ALB. He shall be by the dint of many stabs;
+    Only I spy a little hope of 'scaping
+    Thorough the clouds and foul aspects of death.
+
+    CRI. Sir, pray give no credit to this cheater;
+    Or with his words of art he'll make you doat
+    As much on his feign'd skill, as on fair Flavia.
+
+
+SCENE VI.
+
+_Enter_ HARPAX _and_ FURBO.
+
+    HAR. Stay, villain, stay! though safety 'tself defend thee,
+    Thou diest.
+
+    FUR. Come, do thy worst; thrust sure, or die.
+
+    CRI. For heaven's sake, gentlemen, stay your hands: help, help!
+    Help, Albumazar!
+
+    HAR. Thus to the hinderer
+    Of my revenge.
+
+    CRI. Save me, Albumazar.
+
+    FUR. And thus, and thus, and thus.
+
+    CRI. Master, I die, I die.
+
+    HAR.                              Fliest thou,
+    Base coward?  Tis not thy heels can save thee.      [_Exeunt._
+
+
+SCENE VII.
+
+ALBUMAZAR, PANDOLFO, CRICCA.
+
+    CRI. O, O!
+
+    PAN. What ails thee, Cricca?
+
+    CRI. I am dead, I am dead.
+    Trouble yourself no more.
+
+    PAN. What! dead, and speak'st?
+
+    CRI. Only there's left a little breath to tell you.
+
+    PAN. Why, where art hurt?
+
+    CRI. Stabb'd with a thousand daggers;
+    My heart, my lights, my liver, aud my skin,
+    Pierc'd like a sieve.
+
+    PAN. Here's not a wound: stand up,
+    'Tis but thy fear.
+
+    CRI. 'Tis but one wound all over:
+    Softly, O, softly! You have lost the truest servant.--
+    Farewell, I die.
+
+    ALB. Live by my courtesy; stand up and breathe.
+    The dangerous and malignant influence is pass'd:
+    But thank my charity, that put by the blows,
+    The least of which threaten'd a dozen graves.
+    Now learn to scoff [no more] divine astrology,
+    And slight her servants!
+
+    CRI. A surgeon, good sir, a surgeon.
+
+    ALB. Stand up, man, th' hast no harm; my life for thine.
+
+    PAN. Th' art well, th' art well.
+
+    CRI. Now I perceive I am:
+    I pray you pardon me, divine astrologer.
+
+    ALB. I do: but henceforth laugh [not] at astrology,
+    And call her servants cheaters.
+
+    PAN. Now to our business. On, good Albumazar.
+
+    ALB. Now, since the moon passeth from Capricorn,
+    Through Aquarius, to the wat'ry sign of Pisces,
+    Antonio's drown'd, and is devour'd by fishes.
+
+    PAN. Is't certain?
+
+    ALB. Certain.
+
+    PAN. Then let my earnestness
+    Entreat your skill a favour.
+
+    ALB. It shall; but first
+    I'll tell you what you mean to ask me.
+
+    PAN. Strange!
+
+    ALB. Antonio dead, that promis'd you his daughter:
+    Your business is to entreat me raise his ghost,
+    And force it stay at home, till it have perform'd
+    The promise pass'd, and so return to rest.
+
+    PAN. That, that; ye have hit it, most divine Albumazar.
+
+    ALB. 'Tis a hard thing; for _de privatione ad habitum non datur
+           regressus_.
+    O, what a business, what a masterpiece
+    'Tis to raise up his ghost whose body's eaten
+    By fish! This work desires a planetary intelligence
+    Of Jupiter and Sol; and these great spirits
+    Are proud, fantastical. It asks much charges,
+    To entice them from the guiding of their spheres
+    To wait on mortals.
+
+    PAN. So I may have my purpose, spare for no cost.
+
+    ALB. Sir, spare your purse; I'll do it an easier way;
+    The work shall cost you nothing.
+    We have an art is call'd præstigiatory,[265]
+    That deals with spirits and intelligences
+    Of meaner office and condition,
+    Whose service craves small charges: with one of these
+    I'll change some servant[266] or good friend of yours
+    To the perfect shape of this Antonio:
+    So like in face, behaviour, speech, and action,
+    That all the town shall swear Antonio lives.
+
+    PAN. Most necromantical astrologer!
+    Do this, and take me for your servant ever.
+    And, for your pains, after the transformation,
+    This chain is yours:[267] it cost two hundred pound,
+    Beside the jewel.
+
+    ALB. After the work is finish'd, then--how now?
+    What lines are these, that look sanguineous,
+    As if the stars conjur'd to do you mischief?
+
+    PAN. How! mean you me?
+
+    ALB. They're dusky marks of Saturn:
+    It seems some stone shall fall upon your head,
+    Threat'ning a fracture of the pericranium.
+
+    PAN. Cricca, come hither; fetch me my staff again;
+    Threescore and ten's return'd: a general palsy
+    Shakes out the love of Flavia with a fear.
+    Is there no remedy?
+
+    ALB. Nothing but patience.
+    The planet threatens so, whose prey you are.
+    The stars and planets daily war together;
+    For, should they stand at truce but one half-hour,
+    This wond'rous machine of the world would ruin:
+    Who can withstand their powerful influence?
+
+    PAN. You with your wisdom, good Albumazar.
+
+    ALB. Indeed, th' Egyptian, Ptolemy the  Wise,
+    Pronounc'd it as an oracle of truth,
+    _Sapiens dominabitur astris_.
+    Who's above there? Ronca, bring down the cap,
+    Made in the point of Mercury being ascendant.
+    Here, put it on; and in your hand this image,
+    Fram'd on a Tuesday, when the fierce god of war
+    Mounted th' horizon in the sign of Aries.
+    With these walk as unwounded as Achilles,
+    Dipp'd by his mother Thetis.
+
+    PAN. You bind me to your service.
+
+    ALB. Next get the man you purpose to transform,
+    And meet me here.
+
+    PAN. I will not fail to find you.
+
+    ALB. Meanwhile, with sciotherical[268] instrument,
+    By way of azimuth[269] and almicantarath,[270]
+    I'll seek some happy point in heaven for you.
+
+    PAN. I rest your servant, sir.
+
+    ALB. Let all the stars
+    Guide you with most propitious influence.
+
+
+SCENE VIII.
+
+PANDOLFO, CRICCA.
+
+    PAN. Here's a strange man indeed, of skill profound!
+    How right he knew my business, 'fore he saw me!
+    And how thou scoff'st him, when we talk'd in private!
+    'Tis a brave instrument, his autocousticon.
+
+    CRI. In earnest, sir, I took him for a cheater;
+    As many, under name of cunning men,
+    With promise of astrology much abuse
+    The gaping vulgar, wronging that sacred skill,
+    That in the stars reads all our actions.
+
+    PAN. Are there no arches o'er our heads? Look, Cricca.
+
+    CRI. None but the arch of heaven, that cannot fall.
+
+    PAN. Is not that made of marble? I have read
+    A stone dropp'd from the moon;[271] and much I fear
+    The fit should take her now, and void another.
+
+    CRI. Fear nothing, sir; this charm'd mercurial cap
+    Shields from the fall of mountains: 'tis not a stone
+    Can check his art: walk boldly.
+
+    PAN. I do. Let's in.                                [_Exeunt._
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+  [227] This play seems to have been planned on "L'Astrologo" of Giam
+  Battista della Porta.--_Pegge._
+
+  Battista Porta was the famous physiognomist of Naples. His play was
+  printed at Venice in 1606. See Mr Steevens's note on "Timon of
+  Athens," act iv. sc. 3.
+
+  [228] The Spartans held stealing lawful, and encouraged it as a piece
+  of military exercise; but punished it very severely if it was
+  discovered. See Stanyan's "Grecian History," i. 80.
+
+  [229] Mr Sale (p. 30 of "Preliminary Discourse to his Translation of
+  the Koran," 4º edit.) says, "The frequent robberies committed by these
+  people on merchants and travellers have rendered the name of an Arab
+  almost infamous in Europe: this they are sensible of, and endeavour to
+  excuse themselves by alleging the hard usage of their father Ishmael
+  who, being turned out of doors by Abraham, had the open plains and
+  deserts given him by God for his patrimony, with permission to take
+  whatever he could find there; and, on this account, they think they
+  may, with a safe conscience, indemnify themselves as well as they can,
+  not only on the posterity of Isaac, but also on everybody else; always
+  supposing a sort of kindred between themselves and those they plunder.
+  And in relating their adventures of this kind, they think it
+  sufficient to change the expression, and, instead of _I robbed a man
+  of such or such a thing_, to say, _I gained it_. We must not, however,
+  imagine that they are the less honest for this among themselves, or
+  towards those whom they receive as friends; on the contrary, the
+  strictest probity is observed in their camp, where everything is open,
+  and nothing ever known to be stolen."
+
+  [230] The _wanderers_ are the _planets_, called by the Greeks
+  _planetæ_, from their moving or wandering, and by the Latins,
+  from the same notion, _stellæ errantes;_ as on the contrary the
+  fixed stars are termed by them _stellæ inerrantes_. The
+  character appropriated by astronomers and astrologers to the
+  planet Mercury, is this [Symb. of Mercury], which may be
+  imagined to contain in it something of the characters of all
+  the other planets [Symb. of Saturn] [Symb. of Jupiter] [Symb.
+  of Mars] [Symb. of Sun] [Symb. of Venus] [Symb. of First
+  Quarter Moon]. The history of the heathen deities, whose names
+  were assigned to the several planets, is full of tricks and
+  robberies, to say no worse, as is remarked by the apologetical
+  fathers, who are perpetually inveighing against them on that
+  account; and to this mythological history the poet here
+  alludes.--_Pegge._
+
+  [231] Phantasia of Memphis, as Ptolemeus Hephestion tells us, in
+  Photius, Cod. 190. See Fabricius "Biblioth," gr. i. p. 152. This comes
+  excellently well out of the mouth of such a consummate villain as
+  Albumazar.--_Pegge._
+
+  See also Blackwell's "Inquiry into the Life and Writings of Homer,"
+  1736, p. 135.
+
+  [232] So Shakespeare, in "Timon of Athens," act iv. sc. 3--
+
+                        "I'll example you with thievery.
+      The sun's a thief, and with his great attraction
+      Robs the vast sea: the moon's an arrant thief,
+      And her pale fire she snatches from the sun;
+      The sea's a thief, whose liquid surge resolves
+      The moon into salt tears; the earth's a thief.
+      That feeds and breeds, by a composture stolen
+      From general excrement: each thing's a thief;
+      The laws, your curb and whip, in their rough power
+      Have uncheck'd theft."
+
+  See also the 19th Ode of Anacreon.
+
+  [233] A _settle_ is a wooden bench with a back to it, and capable of
+  holding several people. These kind of seats are only to be found in
+  ancient halls, or the common drinking-rooms in the
+  country.--_Steevens._
+
+  [234] [Edits., _profit_.]
+
+  [235] Edits., _smoothest_. The versification of this play in general
+  is regular and without hemistiches, were the measure properly attended
+  to.
+
+  [236] [Steevens's emendation. Edits, have--
+
+      "My life h'as learnt out all, I know't by's music."
+
+  [237] The quartos read, _by the height of stars_, but the rhyme
+  requires the alteration.--_Collier._
+
+  [238] _Closely_ is _privately_, as in act iii. sc. 1--
+
+      "I'll entertain him here, meanwhile steal you
+      _Closely_ into the room."
+
+  Again, in "The Spanish Tragedy"--
+
+      "Boy, go, convoy this purse to Pedringano;
+      Thou knowest the prison, _closely_ give it him."
+
+  And again, _ibid._--
+
+      "Wise men will take their opportunity
+      _Closely_ and safely, fitting things to time."
+
+  --_Pegge._
+
+  [239] [Blushing.]
+
+  [240] Alluding to the custom of the harbingers, who in the royal
+  progresses were wont to mark the lodgings of the several officers of
+  the Court. _For Flavia_ should therefore be in italics. We now
+  commonly write harbinger with the first vowel; but the ancients
+  applied the second, which is more agreeable to the etymology. See
+  Junius _v._ Harbour.--_Pegge._
+
+  To this explanation I shall only add that the office of harbinger
+  remains to this day, and that the part of his duty above alluded to
+  was performed in the latter part of the 17th century. Serjeant
+  Hawkins, in his life of Bishop Ken, observes that when, on the removal
+  of the Court to pass the summer at Winchester, that prelate's house,
+  which he held in the right of his prebend, _was marked by the
+  harbinger_ for the use of Mrs Eleanor Gwyn, he refused to grant her
+  admittance; and she was forced to seek for lodgings in another
+  place.--_Reed._
+
+  [241] The 4º of 1615 reads--
+
+      "Spight of a _last_ of Lelios."
+
+  [242] [Edits., _two_.]
+
+  [243] A term of astrology.--_Pegge._
+
+  "_Ascendant_ in astrology denotes the horoscope, or the degree of the
+  ecliptic which rises upon the horizon at the time of the birth of any
+  one. This is supposed to have an influence on his life and fortune, by
+  giving him a bent to one thing more than another."--_Chambers's
+  Dictionary._
+
+  [244] [Entrance to a house.]
+
+  [245] Cornelius Agrippa, on "The Vanitie and Uncertaintie of Artes and
+  Sciences," 4º, 1569, p. 55, mentions _Apollonius:_ "They saie that
+  Hierome made mention thereof, writinge to Paulinus, where he saithe,
+  that _Apollonius Tianeus_ was a magitien, or a philosopher, as the
+  Pithagoreans were." He is also noticed among those who have written on
+  the subject of magic. Apollonius was born at Tyana about the time our
+  Saviour appeared in the world. He died at the age of near or quite 100
+  years, in the reign of Nerva. By the enemies of Christianity he was
+  reported to have worked miracles in the same manner as the Founder of
+  our religion, and in the works of Dr Henry More is inserted a parallel
+  between them. The degree of credit which the pagan miracles are
+  entitled to is very clearly shown in Dr Douglas's learned work,
+  entitled, "The Criterion, or Miracles Examined," 8º, 1757, p. 53. See
+  a further account of Apollonius in Blount's translation of "The Two
+  First Books of Philostratus, concerning the Life of Apollonius
+  Tyaneus," fol., 1680, and Tillemont's "Account of the Life of
+  Apollonius Tyaneus," translated by Dr Jenkin, 8º, 1702.
+
+  [246] Telescope.
+
+  [247] A stroke of satire in regard to cuckoldom: there are others
+  afterwards in this act.--_Pegge._
+
+  [248] Coriat the traveller.
+
+  [249] Before the rebuilding of St Paul's Cathedral, the wall at
+  Gloucester, here alluded to, was much more celebrated than it is at
+  present. Camden, in his "Britannia," i. 275, edit. 1722, speaking of
+  it, says: "Beyond the quire, in an arch of the church, there is a
+  _wall_, built with so great artifice, in the form of a semicircle with
+  corners, that if any one whisper very low at one end, and another lay
+  his ear to the other end, he may easily hear every syllable distinct."
+
+  [250] [In the edits, this direction is made part of the text.]
+
+  [251] Alluding to the following passage in the Amphitruo of Plautus,
+  where the night is lengthened, that Jupiter may continue the longer
+  with Alcmena. Mercury says--
+
+      "Et meus pater nunc intus hie cum ilia cubat;
+      Et haec ob eam rem nox est facta longior,
+      Dum ille, quaquam volt, voluptatem capit."
+
+  --"Prolog. Amphitr." 112.--_Pegge._
+
+  [252] An instrument to aid and improve the sense of hearing.
+
+  [253] [Edits., _A cousticon. Autocousticon_ is] a repetition, by way
+  of admiration, of the word in the preceding line; for it is plain it
+  was not intended by the poet that Pandolfo should blunder through
+  ignorance, because he has it right in the next scene, and Ronca has
+  never repeated the word in the interim.--_Pegge._
+
+  [254] The flap or cover of the windpipe.--_Steevens._ Ronca here
+  blunders _comicé_, and on purpose; for the _epiglottis_ is the cover
+  or lid of the larynx, and has no connection with the ear.--_Pegge._
+
+  [255] _i.e._, In spite of his head.--_Steevens._
+
+  [256] Galileo, the inventor of the telescope, was born February 19,
+  1564, according to some writers, at Pisa, but more probably at
+  Florence. While professor of mathematics at Padua, he was invited by
+  Cosmo the Second, Duke of Tuscany, to Pisa, and afterwards removed to
+  Florence. During his residence at the latter place, he ventured to
+  assert the truth of the Copernican system; which gave so much offence
+  to the Jesuits that, by their procurement, he was ever after harassed
+  by the Inquisition. He suffered very frequent and long imprisonments
+  on account of his adherence to the opinions he had formed, and never
+  obtained his liberty without renouncing his sentiments, and
+  undertaking not to defend them either by word or writing. His
+  assiduity in making discoveries at length proved fatal to him. It
+  first impaired his sight, and at length totally deprived him of it. He
+  died at Arcetre, near Florence, January 8, 1642, N.S., in the 78th
+  year of his age, having been for the last three years of his life
+  quite blind. See a comparison between him and Bacon in Hume's "History
+  of England," vi. 133, 8º, edit. 1763.
+
+  [257] [A horn.]
+
+  [258] To the great Mogul's country, who was then called
+  _Maghoore_.--Howes' "Continuation of Stowe's Chronicle," p. 1003,
+  where he esteems it a corruption to call him _Mogul_.
+
+  [259] [Edits, give this and next two lines, down to _return_, to
+  Ronca.]
+
+  [260: There was an opinion pretty current among Christians that the
+  Mahometans were in expectation of their prophet's return; and what
+  gave occasion to that was the 16th sign of the resurrection, the
+  coming of the Mohdi or director; concerning whom Mahomet prophesied
+  that the world should not have an end till one of his own family
+  should govern the Arabians, whose name should be the same with his own
+  name, and whose father's name should also be the same with his
+  father's name, and who should fill the earth with righteousness.
+  Sale's "Preliminary Discourse to the Koran," 4º, edit. 82.
+
+  [261] [Edits., _gorgon_.]
+
+  [262] [Edits., _Upon_.]
+
+  [263] Terms of astrology meaning, be they inhabited by the best and
+  most fortunate planets.--_Pegge._
+
+  [264] A book of astronomy, in use among such as erect figures to cast
+  men's nativities, by which is shown how all the planets are placed
+  every day and hour of the year.
+
+  [265] _i.e._, Juggling or deceiving.
+
+  [266] So in Jeffrey of Monmouth's History, 1718, p. 264, Merlin
+  changes _Uther, Ulfin_, and _himself_, into the shapes of _Gorlois_,
+  _Jordan of Tintagel_, and _Bricet_, by which means _Uther_ obtains the
+  possession of _Igerna_, the wife of Gorlois.--_Pegge._
+
+  [267] People of rank and condition generally wore chains of gold at
+  this time. Hence Trincalo says that, when he was a gentleman, he would
+
+      "Wear a gold chain at every quarter sessions."
+
+  --_Pegge._ Many instances of this fashion are to be met with in these
+  volumes. The Lord Mayor and Aldermen of London wear chains of gold on
+  public days at this time.
+
+  [268] Belonging to a sundial.--_Johnson's Dictionary._
+
+  [269] Azimuths, called also vertical circles, are great circles
+  intersecting each other in the zenith and nadir, and cutting the
+  horizon at right angles, in all the points thereof.--_Chambers's
+  Dictionary._
+
+  [270] An Arabic word, written variously by various authors, and
+  signifies a circle drawn parallel to the horizon. It is generally used
+  in the plural, and means a series of parallel circles, drawn through
+  the several degrees of the meridian.--_Johnson's Dictionary._
+
+  [271] See Bishop Wilkins's "Voyage to the Moon," p. 110.--_Pegge._
+
+
+
+
+ACT II., SCENE I.
+
+TRINCALO, ARMELLINA.
+
+
+TRIN. He that saith I am not in love, he lies _de cap-a-pie;_ for I am
+idle, choicely neat in my clothes, valiant, and extreme witty. My
+meditations are loaded with metaphors, songs, and sonnets; not a cur
+shakes his tail but I sigh out a passion:[272] thus do I to my mistress;
+but, alas! I kiss the dog, and she kicks me. I never see a young wanton
+filly, but say I, there goes Armellina; nor a lusty strong ass, but I
+remember myself, and sit down to consider what a goodly race of mules
+would inherit, if she were willing: only I want utterance--and that's a
+main mark of love too.
+
+ARM. Trincalo, Trincalo!
+
+TRIN. O, 'tis Armellina! Now, if she have the wit to begin, as I mean
+she should, then will I confound her with compliments drawn from the
+plays I see at the Fortune and Red Bull,[273] where I learn all the
+words I speak and understand not.
+
+ARM. Trincalo, what price bears wheat and saffron, that your band's so
+stiff and yellow?[274]--not a word? Why, Trincalo, what business in
+town? how do all at Totnam? grown mute? What do you bring from the
+country?
+
+TRIN. There 'tis. Now are my floodgates drawn, and I'll surround her.
+[_Aside._] What have I brought? sweet bit of beauty, a hundred thousand
+salutations o' th' elder-house to your most illustrious honour and
+worship.
+
+ARM. To me these titles! Is your basket full of nothing else?
+
+TRIN. Full of the fruits of love, most resplendent lady: a present to
+your worthiness from your worship's poor vassal Trincalo.
+
+ARM. My life on't, he scrap'd these compliments from his cart the last
+load he carried for the progress.[275] What ha' you read, that makes you
+grow so eloquent?
+
+TRIN. Sweet madam, I read nothing but the lines of your ladyship's
+countenance; and desire only to kiss the skirts of your garment, if you
+vouchsafe me not the happiness of your white hands.
+
+ARM. Come, give's your basket, and take it.
+
+TRIN. O, sweet! now will I never wash my mouth after, nor breathe but at
+my nostrils, lest I lose the taste of her finger. Armellina, I must tell
+you a secret, if you'll make much on't.
+
+ARM. As it deserves. What is't?
+
+TRIN. I love you, dear morsel of modesty, I love; and so truly, that
+I'll make you mistress of my thoughts, lady of my revenues, and commit
+all my movables into your hands; that is, I'll give you an earnest kiss
+in the highway of matrimony.
+
+ARM. Is this the end of all this business?
+
+TRIN. This is the end of all business, most beautiful, and
+most-worthy-to-be-most beautiful, lady.
+
+ARM. Hence, fool, hence!
+
+                                                         [_Exit._
+
+TRIN. Why, now she knows my meaning, let it work She put up the fruit in
+her lap, and threw away the basket: 'tis a plain sign she abhors the
+words, and embraces the meaning.
+
+    O lips, no lips,[276] but leaves besmear'd' with mildew!
+    O dew, no dew, but drops of honey-combs!
+    O combs, no combs, but fountains full of tears!
+    O tears, no tears, but----
+
+
+SCENE II.
+
+PANDOLFO, TRINCALO.
+
+    PAN. Cricca denies me: no persuasions,
+    Proffers, rewards, can work him to transform.
+    Yonder's my country farmer Trincalo.
+    Never in fitter time, good Trincalo.
+
+    TRIN. Like a lean horse t' a fresh and lusty pasture.
+
+    PAN. What rent dost pay me for thy farm at Totnam?
+
+    TRIN. Ten pound, and find it too dear a penny-worth.
+
+    PAN. My hand here. Take it rent-free for three lives,
+    To serve me in a business I'll employ thee.
+
+    TRIN. Serve you! I'll serve, reserve, conserve, preserve,
+    Deserve, you for th' one half. O Armellina;
+    A jointure, ha, a jointure! [_Aside._] What's your employment?
+
+    PAN. Here's an astrologer has a wondrous secret,
+    To transform men to other shapes and persons.
+
+    TRIN. How! transform things to men? I'll bring nine tailors,
+    Refus'd last muster, shall give five marks apiece
+    To shape three men of service out of all,
+    And grant him th' remnant shreds above the bargain.
+
+    PAN. Now, if thou'lt let him change thee, take this lease,
+    Drawn ready; put what lives thou pleasest.
+
+    TRIN. Stay, sir.
+    Say I am transform'd--who shall enjoy the lease,
+    I or the person I must turn to?
+
+    PAN.                       Thou,
+    Thou. The resemblance lasts but one whole day:
+    Then home true farmer, as thou wert before.
+
+    TRIN. Where shall poor Trincalo be? How's this! transform'd!
+    Transmuted, how? not I. I love myself
+    Better than so: there's your lease.
+    I'd not venture For th' whole fee-simple.
+
+    PAN. Tell me the difference
+    Betwixt a fool and a wise man.
+
+    TRIN. Faith, as much
+    As 'twixt your worship and myself.
+
+    PAN. A wise man
+    Accepts all fair occasions of advancement;
+    Flies no commodity for fear of danger,
+    Ventures and gains, lives easily, drinks good wine,
+    Fares neatly, is richly cloth'd, in worthiest company;
+    While your poor fool and clown, for fear of peril,
+    Sweats hourly for a dry brown crust to bedward,[277]
+    And wakes all night for want of moisture.
+
+    TRIN. Well, sir,
+    I'd rather starve in this my loved image,
+    Than hazard thus my life for others' looks.
+    Change is a kind of death; I dare not try it.
+
+    PAN. Tis not so dangerous as thou tak'st it; we'll only
+    Alter thy count'nance for a day. Imagine
+    Thy face mask'd only; or that thou dream'st all night
+    Thou wert apparell'd in Antonio's form;
+    And (waking) find'st thyself true Trincalo.
+
+    TRIN. T' Antonio's form! Was not Antonio a gentleman?
+
+    PAN. Yes, and my neighbour; that's his house.
+
+    TRIN. O, O!
+    Now do I smell th' astrologer's trick: he'll steep me
+    In soldier's blood, or boil me in a caldron
+    Of barbarous law French; or anoint me over
+    With supple oil of great men's services;
+    For these three means raise yeomen to the gentry.
+    Pardon me, sir: I hate those medicines. Fie!
+    All my posterity will smell and taste on't,
+    Long as the house of Trincalo endures.
+
+    PAN. There's no such business; thou shalt only seem so,
+    And thus deceive Antonio's family.
+
+    TRIN. Are you assur'd? 'Twould grieve me to be bray'd[278]
+    In a huge mortar, wrought to paste, and moulded
+    To this Antonio's mould. Grant, I be turn'd; what then?
+
+    PAN. Enter his house, be reverenc'd by his servants,
+    And give his daughter Flavia to me in marriage.
+    The circumstances I'll instruct thee after.
+
+    TRIN. Pray, give me leave: this side says do't; this, do not.
+    Before I leave you, Tom Trincalo, take my counsel:
+    Thy mistress Armellina is Antonio's maid,
+    And thou, in his shape, may'st possess her: turn.
+    But if I be Antonio, then Antonio
+    Enjoys that happiness, not Trincalo.
+    A pretty trick, to make myself a cuckold!
+    No, no; there, take your lease. I'll hang first. Soft,
+    Be not so choleric, Thomas. If I become Antonio,
+    Then all his riches follow. This fair occasion
+    Once vanish'd, hope not the like; of a stark clown,
+    I shall appear a speck-and-span new gentleman.[279]
+    A pox of ploughs and carts, and whips and horses.
+    Then Armellina shall be given to Trincalo,
+    Three hundred crowns her portion. We'll get a boy,
+    And call him Transformation Trincalo.
+    I'll do't, sir.
+
+    PAN. Art resolv'd?
+
+    TRIN. Resolv'd! 'Tis done--
+    With this condition: after I have given your worship
+    My daughter Flavia, you shall then move my worship,
+    And much entreat me, to bestow my maid
+    Upon myself--I should say Trincalo.
+
+    PAN. Content; and for thy sake will make her portion
+    Two hundred crowns.
+
+    TRIN. Now are you much deceiv'd:
+    I never meant it.
+
+    PAN. How!
+
+    TRIN. I did but jest;
+    And yet, my hand, I'll do't: for I am mutable,
+    And therefore apt to change. Come, come, sir, quickly,
+    Let's to the astrologer, and there transform,
+    Reform, conform, deform me at your pleasure.
+    I loathe this country countenance. Despatch: my skin
+    Itches like a snake's in April to be stripp'd off.
+    Quickly, O, quickly! as you love Flavia, quickly.
+
+
+SCENE III.
+
+ALBUMAZAR, PANDOLFO, RONCA, TRINCALO.
+
+    ALB. Signior Pandolfo, y' arrive in happiest hour:
+    If the seven planets were your nearest kindred,
+    And all the constellations your allies;
+    Were the twelve houses and the inns o' th' zodiac
+    Your own fee-simple, they could ne'er ha' chosen
+    A fitter place to favour your designs.
+    For the great luminaries look from Helic[280]
+    And midst of heaven, in angles, conjunctions,
+    And fortunate aspects of trine and sextile,
+    Ready to pour propitious influences.
+
+    PAN. Thanks to your pow'r and court'sy, that so plac'd them.
+    This is the man that's ready for the business.
+
+    ALB. Of a most happy count'nance and timber fit
+    To square to th' gentry: his looks as apt for changing,
+    As he were cover'd with chameleons' skins.
+
+    TRIN. Except my hands; and 'twill be troublesome
+    To fit these fingers to Antonio's gloves:           [_Aside._]
+
+    PAN. Pray let's about the work as soon as may be.
+
+    ALB. First, choose a large low room, whose door's full east,
+    Or near inclining: for the oriental quarter's
+    Most bountiful of favours.
+
+    PAN. I have a parlour
+    Of a great square, and height as you desire it.
+
+    ALB. Southward must look a wide and spacious window:
+    For howsoever Omar, Alchabitius,
+    Hali, Abenezra, seem something to dissent;
+    Yet Zoroastres, son of Oromasus,
+    Hiarcha, Brachman, Thespion, Gymnosophist,
+    Gebir, and Budda Babylonicus,[281]
+    With all the subtle Cabalists and Chaldees,
+    Swear the best influence for our metamorphosis,
+    Stoops from the south, or, as some say, southeast.
+
+    PAN. This room's as fit as you had made it of purpose.
+
+    TRIN. Now do I feel the calf of my right leg
+    Twingle and dwindle to th' smallness of a bed-staff:
+    Such a speech more turns my high shoes strait boots.[282]
+
+    RON. Ne'er were those authors cited to better purpose,
+    For through that window all Pandolfo's treasures
+    Must take their flight, and fall upon my shoulders.
+
+    ALB. Now if this light meridional had a large casement,
+    That overlook'd some unfrequented alley,
+    'Twere much more proper; for th' Intelligences
+    Are nice and coy, scorning to mix their essence
+    With throng'd disturbance of cross multitudes.
+
+    RON. Spoken by art, Albumazar; a provident setter;
+    For so shall we receive what thou hand'st out,
+    Free from discovery. But, in my conscience,
+    All windows point full south for such a business.
+
+    PAN. Go to my house, satisfy your curious choice:
+    But, credit me, this parlour's fit; it neighbours
+    To a blind alley, that in busiest term-time
+    Feels not the footing of one passenger.
+
+    ALB. Now, then, declining from Theourgia,
+    Artenosaria[283] Pharmacia rejecting
+    Necro-puro-geo-hydro-cheiro-coscinomancy,[284]
+    With other vain and superstitious sciences,
+    We'll anchor at the art prestigiatory,
+    That represents one figure for another,
+    With smooth deceit abusing th' eyes of mortals.
+
+    TRIN. O my right arm! 'tis alter'd, and, methinks,
+    Longs for a sword. These words have slain a ploughman.
+
+    ALB. And, since the moon's the only planet changing,[285]
+    For from the Neomenia in seven days
+    To the Dicotima, in seven more to the Panselinum,[286]
+    And in as much from Plenilunium
+    Thorough Dicotima to Neomenia,
+    'Tis she must help us in this operation.
+
+    TRIN. What towns are these? The strangeness of these names
+    Hath scal'd the marks of many a painful harvest,
+    And made my new-pil'd finger itch for dice.
+
+    PAN. Deeply consider'd, wondrous Albumazar!
+    O, let me kiss those lips that flow with science.
+
+    ALB. For by her various looks she intimates
+    To understanding souls, that only she
+    Hath power t' effect a true formation.
+    Cause then your parlour to be swept carefully
+    Wash'd, rubb'd, perfum'd, hang'd round, from top to bottom,
+    With pure white lunary tap'stry or needlework;
+    But if 'twere cloth of silver, 'twere much better.
+
+    RON. Good, good! a rich beginning: good!--what's next?
+
+    ALB. Spread all the floor with finest Holland sheets,
+    And over them, fair damask tablecloths;
+    Above all these draw me chaste virgins' aprons:
+    The room, the work, and workman must be pure.
+
+    TRIN. With virgins' aprons! the whole compass of this city
+    Cannot afford a dozen.                               [_Aside._
+
+    RON. So: there's shirts
+    And bands[287] to furnish all on's for a twelvemonth.
+
+    ALB. An altar in the midst, loaded with plate
+    Of silver basins, ewers, cups, [and] candlesticks,
+    Flagons and beakers; salts, chargers, casting-bottles.[288]
+    'Twere not amiss to mix some bowls of gold,
+    So they be massy, the better to resemble
+    The lovely brotherhood of Sol and Luna:
+    Also some diamonds for Jupiter.
+    For by the whiteness and bright sparkling lustres
+    We allure the intelligence to descend.
+
+    RON. Furbo and I are those intelligences
+    That must attend upon the magistery.                 [_Aside._
+
+    ALB. Now, for the ceremonious sacrifice,
+    Provide such creatures as the moon delights in:
+    Two sucking lambs, white as the Alpine snow;
+    Yet if they have a mole or two, 'twill pass;
+    The moon herself wants not her spots.
+
+    PAN. 'Tis true.
+
+    RON. Were they hell-black, we'd make a shift to eat them.
+                                                         [_Aside._
+
+    ALB. White capons, pheasants, pigeons; one little blackbird
+    Would stain and spoil the work. Get several wines
+    To quench the holy embers: Rhenish, Greek wine,
+    White muscadel, sherry, and rich canary,
+    So't be not grown too yellow; for the quicker,
+    Brisker and older, the better for these ceremonies:
+    The more abundance, sooner shall we finish.
+    For 'tis our rule in suchlike businesses,
+    Who spares most, spends most. Either this day must do't,
+    Or th' revolution of five hundred years
+    Cannot: so fit are all the heavens to help us.
+
+    RON. A thousand thanks! thou'lt make a complete cheat.
+    Thus, loaded with this treasure, cheer'd with wine,
+    Strengthen'd with meat, we'll carry thee in triumph,
+    As the great General of our atchievement.
+
+    PAN. Sir, for rich plate and jewels I have store;
+    But know not how to furnish you with hangings.
+
+    ALB. Cannot you borrow from the shops? four hours
+    Shall render all as fair as you receiv'd it.
+
+    PAN. That can I easily do.
+
+    ALB. And hear you, sir:
+    If you chance meet with boxes of white comfits,
+    Marchpane, dry sucket, macaroons, and diet-bread,
+    'Twill help on well----
+
+    RON. To furnish out our banquet.
+
+    ALB. I had clean forgot; we must have ambergris,[289]
+    The greyest can be found, some dozen ounces:
+    I'll use but half a drachm; but 'tis our fashion
+    T' offer a little from a greater lump.
+
+    PAN. All shall be done with expedition.
+
+    ALB. And when your man's transform'd, the chain you promis'd.
+
+    PAN. My hand: my deeds shall wait upon my promise.
+
+    ALB. Lead then with happy foot to view the chamber.
+
+    PAN. I go, sir. Trincalo, attend us here,
+    And not a word, on peril of thy life.
+
+    TRIN. Sir, if they kill me, I'll not stir a foot;
+    And if my tongue's pull'd out, not speak a word.
+
+
+SCENE IV.
+
+TRINCALO, CRICCA.
+
+    TRIN. O, what a business 'tis to be transform'd!
+    My master talks of four-and-twenty hours:
+    But, if I mew these flags[290] of yeomanry,
+    Gild in the sear,[291] and shine in bloom of gentry,
+    'Tis not their 'strology nor sacrifice
+    Shall force me cast that coat. I'll ne'er part with't,
+    Till I be sheriff of th' county, and in commission
+    Of peace and quorum. Then will I get m' a clerk,
+    A practis'd fellow, wiser than my worship,
+    And domineer amongst my fearful neighbours.
+    And feast them bountifully with their own bribes.
+
+    CRI. Trincalo!
+
+    TRIN. Wear a gold chain at every quarter sessions,
+    Look big and grave, and speak not one wise word.
+
+    CRI. Trincalo!
+
+    TRIN. Examine wenches got with child, and curiously
+    Search all the circumstances: have blank mitti-muses
+    Printed in readiness; breathe nought but, _Sirrah_,
+    _Rogue, ha? ho? hum? Constable, look to your charge;_
+    Then vouch a statute and a Latin sentence,
+    Wide from the matter.
+
+    CRI. Trincalo!
+
+    TRIN. License all ale-houses;
+    Match my son Transformation t' a knight's daughter,
+    And buy a bouncing pedigree of a Welsh herald:
+    And then----
+
+    CRI. What! In such serious meditations?
+
+    TRIN. Faith, no; but building castles in the air
+    While th' weather's fit: O Cricca, such a business!
+
+    CRI. What is't?
+
+    TRIN. Nay, soft; they're secrets of my master,
+    Lock'd in my breast: he has the key at's purse-strings.[292]
+
+    CRI. My master's secret! keep it, good farmer, keep it;
+    I would not lend an ear to't, if thou'dst hire me.
+    Farewell.
+
+    TRIN. O, how it boils and swells! if I keep't longer,
+    'Twill grow t' impostume in my breast, and choke me. Cricca!
+
+    CRI. Adieu, good Trincalo; the secrets of our betters
+    Are dangerous: I dare not know't.
+
+    TRIN. But, hear'st thou!
+    Say, I should tell, can'st keep as close as I do?
+
+    CRI. Yes: but I had rather want it. Adieu.
+
+    TRIN. Albumazar----
+
+    CRI. Farewell.
+
+    TRIN. Albumazar----
+
+    CRI. Prythee.
+
+    TRIN. Albumazar,
+    Th' astrologer, hath undertook to change me
+    T' Antonio's shape: this done, must I give Flavia
+    To my old master, and his maid to Trincalo.
+
+    CRI. But where's Pandolfo and Albumazar?
+
+    TRIN. Gone newly home to choose a chamber fitting
+    For transmutation. So: now my heart's at ease.
+
+    CRI. I fear the skill and cunning of Albumazar
+    With his black art, by whom Pandolfo seeks
+    To compass Flavia, spite of her brother Lelio
+    And his own son Eugenio, that loves her dearly.
+    I'll lose no time, but find them, and reveal
+    The plot, and work to cross this accident.          [_Aside._]
+    But, Trincalo, art thou so rash and vent'rous
+    To be transform'd with hazard of thy life?
+
+    TRIN. What care I for a life, that have a lease
+    For three: but I am certain there's no danger in't.
+
+    CRI. No danger! cut thy finger, and that pains thee;
+    Then what will't do to shred and mince thy carcase,
+    Bury't in horse-dung, mould it new, and turn it
+    T' Antonio? and, when th' art chang'd, if Lelio
+    Smell out your plot, what worlds of punishment
+    Thou must endure! Poor Trincalo! the desire
+    Of gains abuses thee: be not transform'd.
+
+    TRIN. Cricca, thou understand'st not: for Antonio,
+    Whom I resemble, suffers all, not I.
+
+    CRI. Yonder they come; I'll hence, and haste to Lelio.  [_Exit._
+
+
+SCENE V.
+
+ALBUMAZAR, PANDOLFO, TRINCALO.[293]
+
+    ALB. The chamber's fit: provide the plate and hangings,
+    And other necessaries: give strict order
+    The room be cleans'd, perfum'd, and hang'd; meanwhile,
+    With astrolabe[294] and meteoroscope,[295]
+    I'll find the cusp[296] and alfridaria,[297]
+    And know what planet is in cazimi.[298]
+
+    PAN. All shall be ready, sir, as you command it.
+
+    TRIN. Doctor Albumazar, I have a vein of drinking;
+    An[299] artery of lechery runs through my body:
+    Pray, when you turn me, gentlemen, preserve
+    Those two, if't may be done with reputation.
+
+    ALB. Fear not; I'll only call the first good fellowship,[300]
+    And th' other civil recreation.
+
+    TRIN. And when you come
+    To th' heart, spoil not the love of Armellina;
+    And in my brain leave as much discretion
+    As may spy falsehood in a tavern reckoning;
+    And let me alone for bounty to wink and pay't;
+    And if you change me perfectly,
+    I'll bring y' a dozen knights for customers.
+
+    ALB. I warrant thee. Sir, are you well instructed
+    In all these necessaries?
+
+    PAN. They're in my table-book.
+
+    ALB. Forget not clothes for th' new transform'd, and robes
+    For me to sacrifice--you know the fashion.
+    I'll rather change five, than apparel one:
+    For men have living souls--clothes are unanimate.
+
+    PAN. Here, take this ring, deliver it to my brother,
+    An officer in the Wardrobe; he'll furnish you
+    With robes and clothes of any stuff or fashion.
+
+    ALB. Almuten Alchochoden[301] of the stars attend you.
+
+    PAN. I kiss your hands, divine astrologer.
+
+
+SCENE VI.
+
+PANDOLFO, TRINCALO.
+
+    PAN. Up quickly, Trincalo, to my child Sulpitia;
+    Bid her lay out my fairest damask tablecloths,
+    The fairest Holland sheets, all the silver plate,
+    Two gossip's cups of gold, my greatest diamonds:
+    Make haste.
+
+    TRIN. As fast as Alchochoden and Almuten
+    Can carry me; for (sure) these two are devils.
+
+    PAN. This is that blessed day I so much long'd for.
+    Four hours' attendance, till my man be chang'd,
+    Fast locks me in the lovely arms of Flavia.
+    Away, Trincalo! how slow the day
+    Slides on! when we desire time's haste,
+    It seems to lose a match with lobsters;
+    And when we wish him stay, he imps his wings
+    With feathers plum'd with thought.[302] Why, Trincalo!
+
+    TRIN. Here, sir.
+
+    PAN. Come, let's away for cloth of silver,
+    Wine, and materials for the sacrifice.              [_Exeunt._
+
+
+SCENE VII.
+
+LELIO, EUGENIO, CRICCA.
+
+    LEL. Eugenio, these words are wonders past belief.
+    Is your old father of so poor a judgment,
+    To think it in the power of man to turn
+    One person to another?
+
+    EUG. Lelio, his desire
+    T' enjoy your sister Flavia begets hope,
+    Which, like a waking dream, makes false appearance
+    Lively as truth itself.
+
+    LEL. But who's the man
+    That works these miracles?
+
+    EUG. An astrologer.
+
+    LEL. How deals astrology with transmutation?
+
+    CRI. Under the veil and colour of astrology,
+    He clouds his hellish skill in necromancy.
+    Believe it, by some art or false imposture,
+    He'll much disturb your love, and yours, Eugenio.
+
+    LEL. Eugenio, 'tis high time for us t' awake;
+    And, as you love our Flavia, and I
+    Your sister, fair Sulpitia, let's do something
+    Worthy their beauties. Who falls into a sea
+    Swoll'n big with tempest, but he boldly beats
+    The waves with arms and legs to save his life?
+    So let us strive 'gainst troublous storms of love
+    With our best power, lest after we ascribe
+    The loss to our dull negligence, not fortune.
+
+    EUG. Lelio, had I no interest in your sister,
+    The holy league of friendship should command me,
+    Besides the seconding Sulpitia's love,
+    Who to your nobleness commends her life.
+
+    LEL. She cannot outlove me,[303] nor you outfriend me;
+    For th' sacred name whereof I have rejected
+    Your father's offers, importunities,
+    Letters, conditions, servants, friends, and, lastly,
+    His tender of Sulpitia in exchange
+    For Flavia. But though I love your sister
+    Like mine own soul, yet did the laws of friendship
+    Master that strong affection, and deni'd him.
+
+    EUG. Thanks ever, and as long shall my best service
+    Wait on your will. Cricca, our hope's in thee;
+    Thou must instruct us.
+
+    CRI. You must trust in fortune,
+    That makes or mars the wisest purposes.
+
+    LEL. What say'st? what think'st?
+
+    CRI. Here's no great need of thinking
+    Nor speech; the oil of scorpions cures their poison.
+    The thing itself that's bent to hurt and hinder you,
+    Offers a remedy: 'tis no sooner known,
+    But th' worst on't is prevented.
+
+    EUG. How, good Cricca?
+
+    CRI. Soon as you see this false Antonio
+    Come near your doors, with speeches made of purpose,
+    Full of humility and compassion;
+    With long narrations, how he 'scap'd from shipwreck,
+    And other feign'd inventions of his dangers,
+    Bid him begone; and if he press to enter,
+    Fear not the reverence of your father's looks;
+    Cudgel him thence.
+
+    LEL. But were't not better, Cricca,
+    Keep him fast lock'd, till his own shape return;
+    And so by open course of law correct him.
+
+    CRI. No. For my master would conceive that counsel
+    Sprung from my brains, and so should I repent it.
+    Advise no more, but home, and charge your people
+    That, if Antonio come, they drive him thence
+    With threat'ning words--and blows, if need be.
+
+    LEL. 'Tis done.
+    I kiss your hands, Eugenio.
+
+    EUG. Your servant, sir.                         [_Exit_ LELIO.
+
+
+SCENE VIII.
+
+EUGENIO, CRICCA, FLAVIA.
+
+    EUG. Cricca, commend my service to my mistress.
+
+    CRI. Commend it to her yourself. Mark'd you not, while
+    We talk'd, how through the window she attended,
+    And fed her eyes on you? there she is.
+
+    EUG. 'Tis true:
+    And, as from nights of storms the glorious sun
+    Breaks from the east, and chaseth thence the clouds
+    That chok'd the air with horror, so her beauty
+    Dispels sad darkness from my troubled thoughts,
+    And clears my heart.
+
+    FLA. Life of my soul, well met.
+
+    EUG. How is't, my dearest Flavia?
+
+    FLA. Eugenio,
+    As best becomes a woman most unfortunate--
+    That, having lov'd so long, and been persuaded
+    Her chaste affection was by yours requited,
+    Have by delays been famish'd. Had I conceal'd
+    Those flames your virtue kindled, then y' had sued,
+    Entreated, sworn, and vow'd, and, long ere this,
+    Wrought all means possible to effect our marriage.
+    But now----
+
+    EUG. Sweet soul, despair not; weep not thus,
+    Unless you wish my heart should lifeblood drop,
+    Fast as your eyes do tears. What is't you fear?
+
+    FLA. First, that you love me not.
+
+    EUG. Not love my Flavia!
+    Wrong not your judgment: rip up this amorous breast,
+    And in that temple see a heart that burns
+    I' th' vestal sacrifice of chastest love
+    Before your beauty's deity.
+
+    FLA. If so,
+    Whence grows this coldness in soliciting
+    My brother to the match?
+
+    EUG. Consider, sweetest,
+    I have a father, rival in my love;
+    And though no duty, reverence, nor respect,
+    Have power to change my thoughts; yet 'tis not comely
+    With open violence to withstand his will;
+    But by fair courses try to divert his mind[304]
+    From disproportioned affections.
+    And if I cannot, then nor fear of anger,
+    Nor life, nor lands, shall cross our purposes.
+    Comfort yourself, sweet Flavia; for your brother
+    Seconds our hopes with his best services.
+
+    FLA. But other fears oppress me: methinks I see
+    Antonio, my old father, new-return'd,
+    Whom all intelligence gave drown'd this three months,[305]
+    Enforcing me to marry th' fool Pandolfo,
+    Thus to obtain Sulpitia for himself;
+    And so last night I dream'd, and ever since
+    Have been so scar'd, that, if you haste[n] not,
+    Expect my death.
+
+    EUG. Dreams flow from thoughts of things we most desire
+    Or fear; and seldom prove true prophets; would they did!
+    Then were I now in full possession
+    Of my best Flavia, as I hope I shall be.
+
+    CRI. Sir, pray take your leave: this is to no end,
+    'Twill but increase your grief and hers.
+
+    EUG. Farewell,
+    Sweet Flavia; rest contented with assurance
+    Of my best love and service.
+
+    FLA. Farewell, Eugenio.        [_Exeunt_ EUGENIO _and_ CRICCA.
+
+
+SCENE IX.
+
+SULPITIA, FLAVIA.
+
+    SUL. Flavia, I kiss your hands.
+
+    FLA. Sulpitia,
+    I pray you pardon me; I saw you not.
+
+    SUL. I' faith, you have
+    Some fixed thoughts draw your eyes inward,
+    When you see not your friends before you.
+
+    FLA. True; and, I think, the same that trouble you.
+
+    SUL. Then 'tis the love of a young gentleman,
+    And bitter hatred of an old dotard.
+
+FLA. 'Tis so. Witness your brother Eugenio, and the rotten carcase of
+Pandolfo. Had I a hundred hearts, I should want room to entertain his
+love and the other's hate.
+
+SUL. I could say as much, were't not sin to slander the dead. Miserable
+wenches! How have we offended our fathers, that they should make us the
+price of their dotage, the medicines of their griefs, that have more
+need of physic ourselves? I must be frostbitten with the cold of your
+dad's winter, that mine may thaw his old ice with the spring of your
+sixteen. I thank my dead mother, that left me a woman's will in her last
+testament. That's all the weapons we poor girls can use, and with that
+will I fight 'gainst father, friends, and kindred, and either enjoy
+Lelio, or die in the field in his quarrel.
+
+FLA. Sulpitia, you are happy that can withstand your fortune with so
+merry a resolution.
+
+SUL. Why should I twine mine arms to cables,[306] and sigh my soul to
+air? Sit up all night like a watching-candle,[307] and distil my brains
+through my eyelids. Your brother loves me, and I love your brother; and
+where these two consent, I would fain see a third to hinder us.
+
+FLA. Alas! our sex is most wretched, nursed up from infancy in continual
+slavery. No sooner able to prey for ourselves, but they brail and hud
+us[308] so with sour awe of parents, that we dare not offer to bate[309]
+at our own desires. And whereas it becomes men to vent their amorous
+passions at their pleasure, we (poor souls) must rake up our affections
+in the ashes of a burnt heart, not daring to sigh without excuse of the
+spleen or fit of the mother.
+
+SUL. I plainly will profess my love of Lelio. 'Tis honest, chaste, and
+stains not modesty. Shall I be married to Antonio, that hath been a
+soused sea-fish these three months? And if he be alive, comes home with
+as many impairs as a hunting gelding or a fallen pack-horse. No, no;
+I'll see him freeze to crystal first. In other things, good father, I am
+your most obedient daughter, but in this a pure woman. 'Tis your part to
+offer--mine to refuse, if I like not. Lelio's a handsome gentleman,
+young, fresh, rich, and well-fashioned; and him will Sulpitia have, or
+die a maid. And, i' faith, the temper of my blood tells me I never was
+born to so cold a misfortune. Fie, Flavia! fie, wench! [labour] no more
+with tears and sighs; cheer up. Eugenio, to my knowledge, loves you, and
+you shall have him; I say, you shall have him.
+
+FLA. I doubt not of his love, but know no means how he dares work
+against so great a rival. Your father, in a spleen, may disinherit him.
+
+SUL. And give't to whom? H' has none but him and me. What though he doat
+awhile upon your beauty, he will not prove unnatural to his son. Go to
+your chamber. My genius whispers in my ear, and swears this night we
+shall enjoy our loves, and with that hope farewell.
+
+    FLA. Farewell, Sulpitia.                            [_Exeunt._
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+  [272] See note to "Green's Tu quoque," p. 200.
+
+  [273] Two playhouses. The _Fortune_ belonged to the celebrated Edward
+  Alleyn, and stood in Whitecross Street. The _Red Bull_ was situated in
+  St John Street.
+
+  [274] This alludes to the fashion then much followed, of wearing bands
+  washed and dyed with _yellow starch_. The inventress of them was Mrs
+  Turner, a woman of an infamous character; who, being concerned in the
+  murder of Sir Thomas Overbury, was executed at Tyburn in a lawn ruff
+  of her favourite colour. "With her," says Howell, in his "Letters," p.
+  19, edit. 1754, "I believe that yellow starch, which so much
+  disfigured our nation, and rendered them so ridiculous and fantastic,
+  will receive its funeral." And of the same opinion was Sir Simonds
+  D'Ewes who, in [his "Autobiography," edit. Halliwell, p. 79], says,
+  "Mrs Turner had first brought upp that vaine and foolish use of
+  _yellow starch_, ... and therefore, when shee was afterwards executed
+  at Tiburne, the hangman had his _bande_ and cuffs of the same couler,
+  which made many, after that day, of either sex, to forbeare the use of
+  that _coulered starch_, till at last it grew generallie to bee
+  detested and disused." This execution happened in the year 1615; but
+  the reformation predicted by Howell, and partly asserted by D'Ewes to
+  have happened, was not the consequence, as will appear from the
+  following passage, extracted from a pamphlet called "The Irish Hubbub,
+  or the English Hue and Crie," by Barnaby Rich, 4º, 1622, p. 40: "Yet
+  the open exclamation that was made by Turner's wife at the houre of
+  her death, in the place where shee was executed, cannot be hidden,
+  when, before the whole multitude that were there present, she so
+  bitterly protested against the vanitie of those _yellow starcht
+  bands_, that her outcries (as it was thought) had taken such
+  impression in the hearts of her hearers, that _yellow starcht bands_
+  would have been ashamed (for ever after to have shewed themselves
+  about the neckes, either of men that were wise, or women that were
+  honest) but we see our expectations have failed us, for _they beganne
+  even then to be more generall than they were before_." Again, p. 41:
+  "You knowe tobacco is in great trading, but you shall be merchants,
+  and onely for egges: for whereas one pipe of tobacco will suffice
+  three or four men at once; now ten or twenty eggs will hardly suffice
+  to starch one of these _yellow bands:_ a fashion that I thinke shortly
+  will be as conversant amongst taylors, tapsters, and tinkers, as now
+  they have brought tobacco. But a great magistrate, to disgrace it,
+  enjoyned the hangman of London to become one of that fraternitie, and
+  to follow the fashion; and, the better to enable him, he bestowed of
+  him some benevolence to pay for his laundry: and who was now so
+  briske, with a yellow feather in his hat, and a _yellow starcht band_
+  about his necke, walking in the streets of London, as was master
+  hangman? so that my young masters, that have sithence fallen into that
+  trimme, they doe but imitate the hangman's president, the which, how
+  ridiculous a matter it is, I will leave to themselves to thinke on."
+  And that the fashion prevailed some years after Mrs Turner's death may
+  be proved from Sir Simon D'Ewes's relation of the procession of King
+  James from Whitehall to the Parliament House, Westminster, 30th
+  January 1620 [_i.e._, 1621]: "In the king's short progresse from
+  Whitehall to Westminster, these passages following were accounted
+  somewhat remarkable--And fourthlie, that, looking upp to one window,
+  as he passed, full of gentlewomen or ladies, all in _yellow bandes_,
+  he cried out aloud, 'A pox take yee, are yee ther?' at which, being
+  much ashamed, they all withdrew themselves suddenlie from the window."
+
+  [275] When the king visited the different parts of the country.
+
+  When the court made those excursions, which were called Progresses, to
+  the seats of the nobility and gentry, waggons and other carriages were
+  impressed for the purpose of conveying the king's baggage,
+  &c.--_Pegge._
+
+  This privilege in the crown was continued until the civil wars in the
+  reign of Charles the First, and had been exercised in a manner very
+  oppressive to the subject, insomuch that it frequently became the
+  object of Parliamentary complaint and regulation. During the
+  suspension of monarchy it fell into disuse, and King Charles II at the
+  Restoration consented, for a consideration, to relinquish this as well
+  as all other powers of purveyance and pre-emption. Accordingly, by
+  stat. 12, Car. II. c. xxiv. s. 12, it was declared that no officer
+  should in future take any cart, carriage, or other thing, nor summon
+  or require any person to furnish any horses, oxen, or other cattle,
+  carts, ploughs, wains, or other carriages, for any of the royal
+  family, without the full consent of the owner. An alteration of this
+  act was made the next year, wherein the rates were fixed which should
+  be paid on these occasions, and other regulations were made for
+  preventing the abuse of this prerogative.
+
+  [276] A burlesque on the speech of Hieronimo in "The Spanish Tragedy."
+  See also note to "Green's Tu quoque," and the addition to it [xi.
+  248.]
+
+  [277] _i.e._, Towards bedtime. So in "Coriolanus"--
+
+      "And tapers burn'd to _bedward_."
+
+  --_Steevens._
+
+  [278] Pounded. See note to "The Ordinary," act v. sc. 4, [vol. xii.]
+
+  [279] [Edits., _appear speck and span gentlemen_.] _Speck and span
+  new_ is a phrase not yet out of use; _span new_ occurs in Chaucer's
+  "Troilus and Creseide," bk. iii. l. 1671--
+
+      "This tale was aie _span newe_ to beginne,
+      Til that the night departed 'hem at winne."
+
+  This is thought a phrase of some difficulty. It occurs in Fuller's
+  "Worthies," Herefordshire, p. 40, where we read of _spick and span new
+  money_. A late friend of mine was willing to deduce it from spinning,
+  as if it were a phrase borrowed from the clothing art, _quasi_ new
+  spun from the spike or brooche. It is here written _speck and span_,
+  and in all cases means _entire_. I deem it tantamount to every _speck
+  and every span, i.e._, all over.--_Pegge._
+
+  In "Hudibras," Part I. c. 3, l. 397, are these lines--
+
+      "Then, while the honour thou hast got
+      Is _spick and span new_, piping hot," &c.
+
+  Upon which Dr Grey has this note: "Mr Ray observes ('English
+  Proverbs,' 2d edit. p. 270), that this proverbial phrase, according to
+  Mr Howel, comes from _spica_, an ear of corn: but rather, says he, as
+  I am informed from a better author, _spike_ is a sort of _nail_, and
+  _spawn_ the _chip_ of a boat; so that it is all one as to say, every
+  _chip_ and _nail_ is new. But I am humbly of opinion that it rather
+  comes from _spike_, which signifies a _nail_, and a _nail_ in measure
+  is the 16th part of a yard; and _span_, which is in measure a quarter
+  of a yard, or nine inches; and all that is meant by it, when applied
+  to a new suit of clothes, is that it has been just measured from the
+  piece by the _nail_ and _span_." See the expression in Ben Jonson's
+  "Bartholomew Fair," act iii. sc. 5. [See Nares, edit. 1859; Hazlitt's
+  "Proverbs," 1869; and Wedgwood's "Dictionary of English Etymology,"
+  all in _v._]
+
+  [280] [Edits., _Hilech_.] The name of Ursa Major in Greek.--_Pegge._
+
+  [281] A famous Indian philosopher (Fabricius, p. 281); but why he
+  terms him a Babylonian I cannot conceive.--_Pegge._
+
+  [282] See [Suckling's Works, by Hazlitt, ii. 4.]
+
+  [283] I believe this word should be Artenosoria, the doctrine of
+  Antidotes; unless we should read Artenasoria in allusion to
+  Tallicotius and his method of making supplemental noses, referred to
+  by Butler in "Hudibras."--_Pegge._
+
+  [284] Coskinomancy is the art of divining by a sieve.--_Pegge._
+
+  [285] It was not known then, I presume, that Venus had her increase
+  and decrease.--_Pegge._
+
+  [286] The Greek word for _Plenilunium_.--_Pegge._
+
+  [287] All people then wore bands.--_Pegge._
+
+  [288] i.e., Bottles out of which liquid perfumes were anciently cast
+  or thrown.--_Steevens._ They are mentioned in "Lingua," [ix. 419.]
+
+  [289] See note to the "Antiquary," [act iv. sc. 1, vol. xiii.]
+
+  [290] These, and what follows are terms of falconry; _flags_, in
+  particular, are the second and baser order of feathers in the hawk's
+  wing (Chambers's "Dictionary").--_Pegge._
+
+  [291] The _sear_ is the yellow part between the beak and the eyes of
+  the hawk.--_Pegge._
+
+  [292] They usually carried the keys of their cabinets there.--_Pegge._
+
+  [293] The first 4º inserts the name of _Cricca_ for that of Trincalo,
+  which is decidedly wrong.--_Collier._
+
+  [294] An instrument chiefly used for taking the altitude of the pole,
+  the sun, or stars, at sea.
+
+  [295] A name given to such instruments as are used for observing and
+  determining the distances, magnitudes, and places of the heavenly
+  bodies.
+
+  [296] A term to express the points or horns of the moon, or other
+  luminary.
+
+  [297] With astrologers, is a temporary power they imagine the planets
+  have over the life of any person.
+
+  [298] The centre of the sun. A planet is said to be in _cazimi_ when
+  it is not above 70 degrees distant from the body of the sun.
+
+  [299] [Old copy, _And_.]
+
+  [300] Sir Thomas Wyat, in his celebrated letter to John Poines, has a
+  passage much in point--
+
+      "To ioyne the meane with ech extremitie,
+      With nearest vertue ay to cloke the vice.
+      And as to purpose likewise it shall fall
+      To presse the vertue that it may not rise,
+      As _dronkennesse good-felowship to call_."
+
+  --_Collier._
+
+  [301] _Almuten,_ with astronomers, is the lord of a figure, or the
+  strongest planet in a nativity. _Alchochoden_ is the giver of life or
+  years, the planet which bears rule in the principal places of an
+  astrological figure when a person is born; so that his life may be
+  expected longer or shorter, according to the station, &c., of this
+  planet.
+
+  [302] "To _impe_," says Blount, "is a term most usual among falconers,
+  and is when a feather in a hawkes wing is broken, and another piece
+  imped or graffed on the stump of the old." "_Himp_ or _imp,_ in the
+  British language, is _surculus_ a young graffe or twig; thence
+  _impio_, the verb to innoculate or graff. Hence the word to _imp_ is
+  borrowed by the English; first, surely, to graff trees, and thence
+  translated to _imping_ feathers." See also Mr Steevens's note on "King
+  Richard II.," act ii. sc. 1.
+
+  [303] _Me_ is omitted in the two quartos.--_Collier._
+
+  [304] _To_, the sign of the infinitive, is often omitted, and the
+  verse requires it should be expunged here.--_Pegge._ Both the quartos
+  read as in the text.--_Reed._
+
+  [305] Mr Reed allowed this line to stand--
+
+      "Whom all intelligence _have_ drown'd this three months."
+
+  The restoration of the true reading also restores the grammar of the
+  passage.--_Collier._
+
+  [306] The same thought occurs in Shakespeare's "Love's Labour's Lost,"
+  act iv. sc. 3--
+
+      "O me! with what strict patience have I sat,
+      To see a king transformed _to a knot_!"
+
+  [307] Mr Steevens, in his note to "King Richard III.," act v. sc. 3,
+  observes there was anciently a particular kind of candle, called a
+  _watch_ because, being marked out into sections, each of which was a
+  certain portion of time in burning, it supplied the place of the more
+  modern instrument by which we measure the hours. He also says these
+  candles are represented with great nicety in some of the pictures of
+  Albert Durer.
+
+  [308] These words, as here printed, may be the pure language of
+  falconry, like _bate_, which follows, and signifies to _flutter_. Yet
+  I suspect that for _brail_ we should read _berail_, and for _hud_ us,
+  _hood_ us.
+
+  [309] Latham calls it _bat_, and explains it to be "when a hawke
+  fluttereth with her wings, either from the pearch, or the man's fist,
+  striving, as it were, to flie away or get libertie."
+
+
+
+
+ACT III, SCENE 1.
+
+PANDOLFO, CRICCA.
+
+
+    PAN. While the astrologer hews out Trincalo,
+    Squaring and framing him t' Antonio,
+    Cricca, I'll make thee partner of a thought,
+    That something troubles me.
+
+    CRI. Say, sir, what is't?
+
+    PAN. I have no heart to give Albumazar
+    The chain I promis'd him.
+
+    CRI. Deliver it me,
+    And I'll present it to him in your name.
+
+    PAN. 'T has been an heirloom[310] to our house four hundred years,
+    And, should I leave it now, I fear good fortune
+    Would fly from us, and follow it.
+
+    CRI. Then give him
+    The price in gold.
+
+    PAN. It comes to a hundred pounds;[311]
+
+    And how would that, well-husbanded, grow in time?
+    I was a fool to promise, I confess it;
+    I was too hot and forward in the business.
+
+    CRI. Indeed I wonder'd that your wary thriftiness,
+    Not wont to drop one penny in a quarter
+    Idly, would part with such a sum so easily.
+
+    PAN. My covetous thrift aims at no other mark
+    Than in fit time and place to show my bounty.
+    Who gives continually may want at length
+    Wherewith to feed his liberality.
+    But, for the love of my dear Flavia,
+    I would not spare my life, much less my treasure.
+    Yet if with honour I can win her cheaper,
+    Why should I cast away so great a sum?
+
+    CRI. True: I have a trick now hatching in my brain,
+    How you may handsomely preserve your credit,
+    And save the chain.
+
+    PAN. I would gladly do it,
+    But fear he understands us what we say.
+
+    CRI. What can you lose to try't? If it take,
+    There's so much sav'd, if otherwise, nothing lost.
+
+    PAN. What is't, good Cricca?
+
+    CRI. Soon as Albumazar comes, loaded with news
+    Of th' transmutation of your servant Trincalo,
+    I'll entertain him here; meanwhile, steal you
+    Closely into the room, and quickly hide
+    Some special piece of plate: then run out amaz'd,
+    Roaring, that all the street may know y' are robb'd.
+    Next threaten to attach him, and accuse him
+    Before a justice; and in th' end agree,
+    If he restore the plate, you'll give the chain,
+    Otherwise not.
+
+    PAN. But if we be discover'd!
+    For by his instruments and familiars
+    He can do much.
+
+    CRI. Lay all the fault on Trincalo.
+    But here's the main point. If you can dissemble
+    Cunningly, and frame your countenance to express
+    Pity and anger, that so learn'd a man
+    Should use his friend so basely--if you can call
+    An outcry well, roar high and terrible.
+
+    PAN. I'll fetch a cry from th' bottom of my heels,
+    But I'll roar loud enough; and thou must second me
+    With wonder at the sudden accident.
+
+    CRI. But yours is the main part; for, as you play't,
+    You win or lose the chain.
+
+    PAN. No more, no more; he comes.
+
+
+SCENE II.
+
+ALBUMAZAR, PANDOLFO, CRICCA.
+
+    ALB. Signior Pandolfo, three-quarters of an hour
+    Renders your servant perfectly transform'd.
+                                              [PANDOLFO _retires_.
+
+    CRI. Is he not wholly chang'd? What parts are wanting?
+
+    ALB. Antonio's shape hath cloth'd his bulk[312] and visage;
+    Only his hands and feet, so large and callous,
+    Require more time to supple.
+
+    CRI. Pray you, sir,
+    How long shall he retain this metamorphosis?
+
+    ALB. The complete circle of a natural day.
+
+    CRI. A natural day! are any days unnatural?
+
+    ALB. I mean the revolution of th' first mover,
+    Just twice twelve hours, in which period the rap'd motion
+    Rolls all the orbs from east to occident.
+
+PAN. [_Returning._] Help, help! thieves, thieves! neighbours, I am
+robb'd: thieves, thieves!
+
+    CRI. What a noise make you, sir.
+
+    PAN. Have I not reason,
+    That thus am robb'd? Thieves, thieves! call constables,
+    The watch and serjeants, friends and constables;
+    Neighbours, I am undone.
+
+    CRI. This is well begun,
+    So he hold out still with a higher strain.           [_Aside._
+    What ails you, sir?
+
+    PAN. Cricca, my chamber's spoil'd
+    Of all my hangings, clothes, and silver plate.
+                                                [_Exit_ ALBUMAZAR.
+
+    CRI. Why, this is bravely feign'd; continue, sir.
+
+    PAN. Lay all the goldsmiths, keepers, marshals, bailiffs.
+
+    CRI. Fie, sir, your passion falls; cry louder--roar,
+    That all the street may hear.
+
+    PAN. Thieves, thieves, thieves!
+    All that I had is gone, and more than all.
+
+    CRI. Ha, ha, ha! hold out; lay out a lion's throat;
+    A little louder.
+
+    PAN. I can cry no longer,
+    My throat's sore; I am robb'd, I am robb'd, all's gone,
+    Both my own treasure, and the things I borrow'd.
+    Make thou an outcry, I have lost my voice:
+    Cry fire, and then they'll hear thee.
+
+    CRI. Good, good: thieves!
+    What have you lost?
+
+    PAN. Wine, jewels, tablecloths,
+    A cupboard of rich plate.
+
+    CRI. Fie! you'll spoil all.
+    Now you outdo it. Say but a bowl or two.
+
+    PAN. Villain, I say all's gone; the room's as clean
+    As a wip'd looking-glass: O me, O me!
+
+    CRI. What, in good earnest?
+
+    PAN. Fool, in accursed earnest.
+
+    CRI. You gull me, sure.
+
+    PAN. The window towards the south stands ope, from whence
+    Went all my treasure. Where's the astrologer?
+
+    ALB. Here, sir;
+    And hardly can abstain from laughing, to see you vex
+    Yourself in vain.
+
+    PAN. In vain, Albumazar?
+    I left my plate with you, and 'tis all vanish'd;
+    And you shall answer it.
+
+    ALB. O, were it possible
+    By power of art to check what art hath done,
+    Your man should ne'er be chang'd: to wrong me thus
+    With foul suspicion of flat felony!
+    Your plate, your cloth of silver, wine and jewels,
+    Linen, and all the rest, I gave to Trincalo,
+    And for more safety lock'd them in the lobby.
+    He'll keep them carefully. But, as you love your mistress,
+    Disturb him not this half-hour, lest you'll have him
+    Like to a centaur, half-clown, half-gentleman.
+    Suffer his foot and hand, that's yet untouch'd,
+    To be ennobled like his other members.
+
+    PAN. Albumazar, I pray you pardon me,
+    Th' unlooked-for bareness of the room amaz'd me.
+
+    ALB. How! think you me so negligent, to commit
+    So rich a mass of treasure to th' open danger
+    Of a large casement and suspicious alley?
+    No, sir; my sacrifice no sooner done,
+    But I wrapp'd all up safe, and gave it Trincalo.
+    I could be angry, but that your sudden fear
+    Excuses you. Fie! such a noise as this,
+    Half an hour pass'd, had scar'd the intelligences,
+    And spoil'd the work: but no harm done. Go walk
+    Westward, directly westward, one half-hour;
+    Then turn back, and take your servant turn'd t' Antonio,
+    And, as you like my skill, perform your promise,
+    I mean the chain.
+
+    PAN. Content, let's still go westward----
+    Westward, good Cricca, still directly westward.
+                                  [_Exeunt_ PANDOLFO _and_ CRICCA.
+
+
+SCENE III.
+
+ALBUMAZAR, RONCA, HARPAX, FURBO.
+
+    ALB. Harpax, Furbo, and Ronca, come out: all's clear.
+    Why, here's a noble prize, worth vent'ring for.
+    Is not this braver than sneak all night in danger,
+    Picking of locks, or hooking clothes at windows?
+    Here's plate, and gold, and cloth, and meat, and wine,
+    All rich and eas'ly got. Ronca, stay hereabout.
+    And wait till Trincalo come forth; then call him
+    With a low reverence Antonio;
+    Give him this gold with thanks; tell him he lent it,
+    Before he went to Barbary.
+
+    RON. How! lose ten pieces?
+
+    ALB. There's a necessity in't: devise some course
+    To get't again; if not, our gain's sufficient
+    To bear that loss. Furbo, find out Bevilona
+    The courtesan; let her feign herself a gentlewoman
+    Enamour'd of Antonio; bid her invite him
+    To banquet with her, and by all means possible
+    Force him stay there two hours.
+
+    HAR. Why two hours?
+
+    ALB. That in that time thou mayest convey
+    Our treasure to the inn, and speak a boat
+    Ready for Gravesend, and provide a supper,
+    Where with those precious liquors and good meats
+    We'll cheer ourselves; and thus, well fed and merry,
+    Take boat by night.
+
+    FUR. And what will you do?
+
+    ALB. First in, and usher out our changeling, Trincalo.
+    Then finish up a business of great profit,
+    Begun with a rich merchant, that admires
+    My skill in alchemy. I must not lose it.
+
+    RON. Harpax, bestow the plate: Furbo, our beards,
+    Black patches for our eyes, and other properties,[313]
+    And at the time and place meet all at supper.       [_Exeunt._
+
+
+SCENE IV.
+
+ALBUMAZAR, TRINCALO.
+
+    ALB. Stand forth, transformed Antonio, fully mued
+    From brown soar feathers[314] of dull yeomanry,
+    To th' glorious bloom of gentry: prune yourself sleek;[315]
+    Swear boldly y' are the man you represent
+    To all that dare deny it.
+
+    TRIN. I find my thoughts
+    Most strangely alter'd; but methinks my face
+    Feels still like Trincalo.
+
+    ALB. You imagine so.
+    Senses are oft deceiv'd. As an attentive angler,
+    Fixing his steady eyes on the swift streams
+    Of a steep tumbling torrent, no sooner turns
+    His sight to land, but (giddy) thinks the firm banks
+    And constant trees more like the running water;
+    So you, that thirty years have liv'd in Trincalo.
+    Chang'd suddenly, think y' are so still; but instantly
+    These thoughts will vanish.
+
+    TRIN. Give me a looking-glass
+    To read your skill in these new lineaments.
+
+    ALB. I'd rather give you poison; for a glass,
+    By secret power of cross reflections
+    And optic virtue, spoils the wond'rous work
+    Of transformation; and in a moment turns you,
+    Spite of my skill, to Trincalo as before.
+    We read that Apuleius[316] was[317] by a rose
+    Chang'd from an ass to man: so by a mirror
+    You'll lose this noble lustre, and turn ass.
+    I humbly take my leave; but still remember
+    T' avoid the devil and a looking-glass.
+    Newborn Antonio, I kiss your hands.
+
+    TRIN. Divine Albumazar, I kiss your hands.  [_Exit_ ALBUMAZAR.
+
+
+SCENE V.
+
+TRINCALO, RONCA.
+
+    TRIN. Now am I grown a gentleman and a fine one,
+    I know't by th' kissing of my hands so courtly.
+    My courteous knees bend in so true a distance,
+    As if my foot walk'd in a frame on purpose.
+    Thus I accost you; or thus, sweet sir, your servant:
+    Nay, more, your servant's servant: that's your grandservant.
+    I could descend from the top of Paul's to th' bottom,
+    And on each step strew parting compliments;
+    Strive for a door, while a good carpenter
+    Might make a new one. I am your shadow, sir,
+    And bound to wait upon you; i' faith, I will not:
+    Pray, sir, &c. O brave Albumazar!
+
+    RON. Just Æsop's crow, trink'd up in borrow'd feathers.
+
+    TRIN. My veins are fill'd with newness: O, for a chirurgeon
+    To ope this arm, and view my gentle blood,
+    To try if't run two thousand pounds a year.
+    I feel my understanding is enlarg'd
+    With the rare knowledge of this latter age:
+    A sacred fury oversways me. Prime!
+    Deal quickly, play, discard, I set ten shillings and sixpence.
+    You see't? my rest, five-and-fifty.[318] Boy, more cards!
+    And, as thou go'st, lay out some roaring oaths
+    For me; I'll pay thee again with interest.
+    O brave Albumazar!
+
+    RON. How his imagination
+    Boils, and works in all things he ever saw or heard!
+
+    TRIN. At gleek? content.
+    A murnival of aces, gleek of knaves:
+    Just nine apiece. Sir, my grey Barbary
+    'Gainst your dun cow, three train cents and th' course,
+    For fifty pound. As I am a gentleman,
+    I'll meet next cocking, and bring a haggard[319] with me,
+    That stoops as free as lightning,[320] strikes like thunder.
+    I lie? my reputation, you shall hear on't.
+    O brave Albumazar!
+
+    RON. He'll grow stark mad, I fear me.
+
+    TRIN. Now I know
+    I am perfectly transform'd; my mind incites me
+    To challenge some brave fellow for my credit;
+    And, for more safety, get some friend in private
+    To take the business up in peace and quiet.
+
+    RON. Signior Antonio!
+
+    TRIN. There's not a crumb of Trincalo
+    In all this frame but the love of
+    Armellina: Were't not for thee, I'd travel, and [come] home again,
+    As wise as I went over.
+
+    RON. Signior Antonio! welcome ten thousand times:
+    Bless'd be the heavens and seas for your return.
+
+    TRIN. I thank you, sir: Antonio is your servant,
+    I am glad to see you well--
+    Fie! I kiss your hands, and thus accost you.
+
+    RON. This three months all your kindred, friends, and children,
+    Mourn'd for your death.
+
+    TRIN. And so they well might do,
+    For five days I was under water; and, at length,
+    Got up and spread myself upon a chest,
+    Rowing with arms, and steering with my feet;
+    And thus, in five days more, got land. Believe it,
+    I made a most incredible escape
+    And safe return from Barbary. At your service.
+
+    RON. Welcome ten thousand times from Barbary;
+    No friend more glad to see Antonio
+    Than I: nor am I thus for hope of gain;
+    But that I find occasion to be grateful
+    By your return. Do you remember, sir,
+    Before you went, as I was once arrested,
+    And could not put in bail, you, passing by,
+    Lent me ten pound, and so discharg'd the debt?
+
+    TRIN. Yes, yes, as well as 'twere but yesterday.
+
+    RON. Oft have I waited at your house with money
+    And many thanks; but you were still beyond seas.
+    Now am I happy of this fair occasion
+    To testify my honest care to you;
+    For you may need it.
+
+    TRIN. Sir, I do indeed,
+    Witness my treasure cast away by shipwreck.
+
+    RON. Here, sir.
+
+    TRIN. Is the gold good? for mine was good I lent you.
+
+    RON. It was, and so is this. Signior Antonio, for this courtesy
+    Call me your servant.                                 [_Exit._
+
+TRIN. Farewell, good servant; ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! I know not so much as
+his name! Ten pound! This change is better than my birth; for, in all
+the years of my yeomanry, I could never yoke two crowns, and now I
+have herded ten fair twenty-shilling pieces. Now will I go to this
+astrologer, and hire him to turn my cart to a caroch, my four jades to
+two pair of Dutch mares, my Mistress Armellina to a lady, my ploughboy
+Dick to two garded footmen[321]. Then will I hurry myself to the
+mercer's books, wear rich clothes, be called Tony by a great man, sell
+my lands, pay no debts, hate citizens, and beat Serjeants: and when all
+fails, sneak out of Antonio with a twopenny looking-glass, and turn as
+true Trincalo as ever.
+
+
+SCENE VI.
+
+HARPAX, TRINCALO.
+
+    HAR. Signior Antonio, welcome.
+
+    TRIN. My life, here's ten pound more,
+    I thank you heartily.
+
+    HAR. Never in fitter season could I find you.
+    If you remember, sir, before you went
+    To Barbary, I lent you ten pound in gold.
+
+    TRIN. Faith, I remember no such thing, excuse me.
+    What may I call your name?
+
+    HAR. My name is Harpax,
+    Your friend and neighbour, of your old acquaintance.
+
+    TRIN. What, Harpax! I am your servant; I kiss your hands.
+    You must excuse me; you never lent me money.
+
+    HAR. Sir, as I live, ten twenty-shilling pieces.
+
+    TRIN. Dangers at sea, I find, have hurt my memory.
+
+    HAR. Why, here's your own handwriting, seal'd and sign'd
+    In presence of your cousin Julio.
+
+    TRIN. 'Tis true, 'tis true; but I sustain'd great losses
+    By reason of the shipwreck. Here's five pieces;
+    Will that content you? and to-morrow morning
+    Come to my house and take the rest.
+
+    HAR. Well, sir,
+    Though my necessity would importune you
+    For all, yet, on your worship's word, the rest
+    I'll call for in the morning. Farewell, Antonio.      [_Exit._
+
+    TRIN. I see we gentlemen can sometimes borrow
+    As well as lend; and are as loth to pay
+    As meaner men. I'll home, lest other creditors
+    Call for the rest.
+
+
+SCENE VII.
+
+RONCA, TRINCALO.
+
+    RON. Signior Antonio! I saw you as you landed,
+    And in great haste follow'd, to congratulate
+    Your safe return with these most wish'd embraces.
+
+    TRIN. And I accept your joy with like affection.
+    How do you call yourself?
+
+    RON. Have you forgot
+    Your dear friend Ronca, whom you lov'd so well?
+
+    TRIN. O, I remember now, my dear friend Ronca.
+
+    RON. Thanks to the fortune of the seas, that sav'd you.
+
+    TRIN. I fear I owe him money.
+    How shall I shift him?                              [_Aside._]
+    How does your body, Ronca?
+
+    RON. My dear Antonio,
+    Never so well as now I have the power
+    Thus to embrace my friend, whom all th' Exchange
+    Gave drown'd for three whole months. My dear Antonio!
+
+    TRIN. I thank you, sir.
+
+    RON. I thank you.
+
+    TRIN. While my dear Ronca
+    Clipp'd me,[322] my purse shook dangerously; yet both his arms
+    And hands embrac'd my neck. Here's none behind me.
+    How can this be?
+
+    RON. Most dear Antonio,
+    Was not your passage dangerous from Barbary?
+    We had great winds and tempests; and, I fear me,
+    You felt the force at sea.
+
+    TRIN. Yes, dearest Ronca.
+    How's this? I see his hands, and yet my purse is gone!
+
+    RON. Signior Antonio, I see your mind's much troubl'd
+    About affairs of worth; I take my leave,
+    And kiss your hands of liberality.
+
+    TRIN. And kiss my hands of liberality!
+    I gave him nothing. O, my purse, my purse!
+    Dear Master Ronca.
+
+    RON. What's your pleasure, sir?
+
+    TRIN. Show me your hand.
+
+    RON. Here 'tis.
+
+    TRIN. But where's th' other?
+
+    RON. Why, here.
+
+    TRIN. But I mean, where's your other hand?
+
+    RON. Think you me the giant with a hundred hands?
+
+    TRIN. Give me your right.
+
+    RON. My right?
+
+    TRIN. Your left.
+
+    RON. My left?
+
+    TRIN. Now both.
+
+    RON. There's both, my dear Antonio.
+    Keep yourself dark; eat broth. Your fearful passage
+    And want of natural rest hath made you frantic.       [_Exit._
+
+    TRIN. Villain, rogue, cutpurse, thief! [_Aside._] Dear Ronca, stay.
+    He's gone--
+    I' th' devil's name, how could this fellow do it?
+    I felt his hands fast lock'd about my neck;
+    And still he spoke. It could not be his mouth:
+    For that was full of dear Antonio.
+    My life! he stole't with his feet. Such a trick more
+    Will work worse with me than a looking-glass:
+    To lose five pounds in court'sy, and the rest
+    In salutation!
+
+_Re-enter_ RONCA, _disguised_.
+
+    RON. Signior Antonio,
+    What ails you?
+
+    TRIN. Ronca, a rogue, a cutpurse,
+    Hath robb'd me of five twenty-shilling pieces.
+
+    RON. What kind of man was he--something like me?
+
+    TRIN. H' had such a thievish countenance as your own,
+    But that he wore a black patch o'er his eye.
+
+    RON. Met you with Ronca? 'Tis the cunning'st nimmer
+    Of the whole company of Cut-purse Hall:
+    I am sorry I was not here to warn you of him.         [_Exit._
+
+
+SCENE VIII.
+
+FURBO, BEVILONA, TRINCALO.
+
+    BEV. Furbo, no more, unless thy words were charms
+    Of power to revive him. Antonio's dead;
+    He's dead, and in his death hath buried
+    All my delights: my ears are deaf to music
+    That sounds of pleasure. Sing, then, the dolfull'st notes
+    That e'er were set by melancholy: O Antonio!
+
+FURBO _sings this song_.
+
+    _Flow, streams of liquid salt from my sad eyes,
+    To celebrate his mournful exequies.
+    Antonio's dead; he's dead, and I remain
+    To draw my poor life in continual pain,
+    Till it have paid to his sad memory
+    Duty of love: O, then most willingly
+    Drown'd with my tears, as he with waves, I die._
+
+    BEV. Break thy sad strings, sad[323] instrument--
+       O, strange, he's here!
+    Signior Antonio! my heart's sweet content!
+    My life and better portion of my soul!
+    Are you return'd, and safe? for whose sad death
+    I spent such streams of tears and gusts of sighs?
+    Or is't my love, that to my longing fancy
+    Frames your desired shape, and mocks my senses?
+
+    TRIN. Whom do you talk withal, fair gentlewoman?
+
+    BEV. With my best friend, commander of my life,
+    My most belov'd Antonio.
+
+    TRIN. With me!
+    What's your desire with me, sweet lady?
+
+    BEV. Sir, to command me, as you have done ever,
+    To what you please: for all my liberty
+    Lies in your service.
+
+    TRIN. Now I smell the business.
+    This is some gentlewoman enamour'd
+    With him whose shape I bear. Fie, what an ass
+    Was I to strange myself, and lose the occasion
+    Of a good banquet and her company.
+    I'll mend it as I can. [_Aside._] Madam, I did but jest,
+    To try if absence caus'd you to forget
+    A friend that lov'd you ever.
+
+    BEV. Forget Antonio,
+    Whose dear remembrance doth inform the soul
+    Of your poor servant, Bevilona! No,
+    No; had you died, it had not quench'd one spark
+    Of th' sweet affection which your love hath kindl'd
+    In this warm breast.
+
+    TRIN. Madam, the waves had drown'd me,
+    But that your love held up my chin.
+
+    BEV. Will't please you
+    Enter, and rest yourself, refresh the weariness
+    Of your hard travel; I have good wine and fruits:
+    My husband's out of town; you shall command
+    My house, and all that's in't.
+
+    TRIN. Why, are you married?
+
+    BEV. Have you forgot my husband, an angry roarer?
+
+    TRIN. O, I remember him: but if he come?
+
+    BEV. Whence grows this fear? how come you so respectful?
+    You were not wont be numb'd with such a coldness.
+    Go in, sweet life, go in.
+
+    TRIN. I remember while I liv'd in Barbary,
+    A pretty song the Moors sing to a gridiron:
+    Sweet, madam, by your favour, I'll sing to this.
+
+      _Alcoch dolash_, &c. Thus 'tis in English--
+        _My heart in flames doth fry
+        Of thy beauty,
+        While I Die.
+        Fie!
+        And why
+        Shouldst thou deny
+        Me thy sweet company?
+        My brains to tears do flow,
+        While all below
+        Doth glow.
+        O!
+        Foe,
+        If so,
+        How canst thou go
+        About to say me no?_
+
+    This the Moors call two wings[324] upon a gridiron;
+    But it goes sweeter far o' th' iron instrument.
+
+    RON. There's one within my kitchen, ready-strung: go in.
+
+    TRIN. Sweet lady, pardon me, I'll follow you.
+    Happy Antonio in so rare a mistress!
+    But happier I, that in his place enjoy her:
+    I say still, there's no pleasure like transforming.
+
+
+SCENE IX.
+
+BEVILONA _and_ TRINCALO; _to them_ RONCA.
+
+    RON. Now is the ass expecting of a banquet,
+    Ready to court, embrace, and kiss his mistress.
+    But I'll soon stave him. What ho!       [_Knocks at the door._
+
+    BEV. Who's that so boldly knocks? I am not within--
+    Or busy. Why so importunate? who is't?
+
+    RON. 'Tis I.
+
+    BEV. Your name?
+
+    RON. Thomas ap William ap Morgan ap Davy ap Roger, &c.
+
+    TRIN. Spinola's camp's broke loose: a troop of soldiers!
+
+    BEV. O me! my husband! O me, wretch! 'tis my husband.
+
+    TRIN. One man, and wear so many names!
+
+    BEV. O sir,
+    H' has more outrageous devils in his rage
+    Than names. As you respect your life, avoid him:
+    Down at that window----
+
+    TRIN. 'Tis as high as Paul's;
+    Open the garden door.
+
+    BEV. He has the keys.
+    Down at some window, as you love your life,
+    Tender my honour, and your safety.
+
+    RON. Bevilona!
+    Down, or I'll break the doors, and with the splinters
+    Beat all thy bones to pieces: down, you whore.
+
+    BEV. Be patient but a little; I come instantly.
+
+    TRIN. Ha' you no trunk nor chest to hide me?
+
+    BEV. None, sir.
+    Alas, I am clean undone! it is my husband.
+
+    RON. Doubtless this whore hath some of her companions,
+    That wrong me thus. But if I catch the villain,
+    I'll bathe my hungry sword and sharp revenge
+    In his heart-blood. Come down!
+
+    BEV. I cannot. [_To_ TRINCALO.] Stay;
+    There stands an empty hogshead with a false bottom
+    To ope and shut at pleasure; come hither; in,
+    In, as you love your life.
+
+    TRIN. But hear you, madam,
+    Is there no looking-glass within't? for I hate glasses
+    As naturally as some do cats or cheese.
+
+    BEV. In, in, there's none.
+
+    RON. Who now? is the ass pass'd?
+
+    BEV. I tunn'd him up, ha, ha, ha! I fear he'll fall aworking.
+
+    RON. Second me handsomely, we'll entertain him
+    An hour or two, and laugh, and get his clothes
+    To make our sport up. [_Aside._] Wife, where's the empty hogshead,
+    That wont to stand under the stairs?
+
+    BEV. There still.
+
+    RON. Out with it quickly: I must have it fill'd.
+
+    BEV. Not to-day, good sir; to-morrow will serve as well.
+
+    RON. Out with it quickly: I must have it fill'd.
+
+    BEV. Not to-day, good sir; to-morrow will serve as well.
+
+    RON. I must ha't now.
+
+    BEV. 'Tis more than I can carry.
+
+    RON. I'll help thee: so, so. Foh! this vessel's musty.
+    Fetch out some water.
+
+    BEV. Fetch't out yourself.
+
+    TRIN. Pox of all transmutation, I am smother'd.
+    Lady, as you love me, give the hogshead vent,
+    The beer that's in't will work and break the vessel.
+
+    BEV. Signior Antonio, as you love your life,
+    Lie still and close, for, if you stir, you die.
+
+    RON. So, so; now shake it; so, so.
+
+    TRIN. O! I am drown'd! I drown!
+
+    RON. When comes this hollow sound?
+
+    TRIN. I drown! I smother!
+
+    RON. My life, 'tis Trincalo; for I have heard that coxcomb,
+    That ass, that clown, seeks to corrupt my wife,
+    Sending her[325] fruit and dainties from the country.
+    O, that 'twere he! how would I use the villain!
+    First crop his ears, then slit his nose, and geld him.
+    And with a red-hot iron sear his raw wounds;
+    Then barrel him again, and send the eunuch
+    To the great Turk to keep his concubines.
+    Tick, tock, who is within here?          [_Knocks on the tub._
+
+    BEV. One that you dare not touch.
+
+    RON. One that I dare not?               [TRINCALO _comes out_.
+
+    Out, villain, out--Signior Antonio!
+    Had it been any but yourself, he had died,
+    But, as you sav'd my life, before you went,
+    So now command mine in your services.
+    I would have sworn y' had drown'd in Barbary.
+
+    TRIN. 'Twas a hard pass;[326] but not so dangerous
+    As was this vessel. Pray you, conceive no ill;
+    I meant no harm, but call'd of your wife to know
+    How my son Lelio did, and daughter Flavia.
+
+    RON. Sir, I believe you.
+
+    TRIN. But I must tell you one thing:
+    You must not be so jealous; on my honour,
+    She's very honest.
+
+    RON. For you I make no question;
+    But there's a rogue called Trincalo, whom if I catch,
+    I'll teach him.
+
+    TRIN. Who? you mean Pandolfo's farmer.
+    Alas, poor fool, he's a stark ass, but harmless.
+    And though she talk with him, 'tis but to laugh,
+    As all the world does at him. Come, be friends
+    At my entreaty.
+
+    RON. Sir, for your sake.
+
+    BEV. I thank you.
+
+    TRIN. Let's have a fire; and, while I dry myself,
+    Provide good wine and meat. I'll dine with you.
+    I must not home thus wet. I am something bold with you.
+
+    RON. My house and self are at your service.
+
+    TRIN. Lead in.
+    Alas, poor Trincalo, hadst thou been taken,
+    Thou hadst been tunn'd for Turkey.
+    Ha, ha, ha, ha! fair fall Antonio's shape.
+    What a notorious wittol's this! ha, ha, ha!         [_Exeunt._
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+  [310] "_Heirlooms_ are such goods and personal chattels as, contrary
+  to the nature of chattels, shall go by special custom to the heir,
+  along with the inheritance, and not to the executor of the last
+  proprietor. The termination, _loom_, is of Saxon original, in which
+  language it signifies a limb or member of the
+  inheritance."--Blackstone's "Commentaries," ii. 427.
+
+  [311] In act i. sc. 7, he says that _it cost two hundred pounds_.
+
+  [312] _i.e._, Body.
+
+  [313] Properties are whatever little articles are wanted for the
+  actors, according to their respective parts, dresses and scenes
+  excepted. The person who delivers them out is to this day called the
+  _property man_. See Mr Steevens's note to "Midsummer Night's Dream,"
+  act i. sc. 2.
+
+  [314] The late ingenious Mr Robert Dodsley, whose modest merit is well
+  known to those who were acquainted with him, had little skill in our
+  ancient language, and therefore permitted many uncommon terms to be
+  exchanged for others, to the no small detriment of the scenes which he
+  undertook to publish. We had here a proof of the unpardonable licence,
+  where a word of no meaning, _soak_, was given instead of a technical
+  term belonging to falconry, in the language of which the present
+  metaphor is carried on. A young hawk, like a young deer, was called a
+  _soar_ or _soare:_ so that the brown _soar_ feathers are the remains
+  of its first plumage, or such feathers as resemble it in colour. These
+  birds are always mewed while they were moulting, to facilitate the
+  growth of fresh plumes, more strong and beautiful than those which
+  dropped off. Without this restoration and explanation, the passage
+  before us is unintelligible.--_Steevens._
+
+  Latham, in his book of falconry, says: "A _sore hawke_, is from the
+  first taking of her from the eiry, till she have mewed her feathers."
+  The error introduced into the play by Mr Dodsley is continued by Mr
+  Garrick who, in his alteration, reads brown _soak_ feathers.
+
+  Trincalo has already used a phrase that seems to be equivalent, in act
+  ii. sc. 4, where he says--
+
+      "But if I _mew_ these _flags of yeomanry_
+      Gild in the _sear_," &c.
+
+  See the explanatory notes, where _flags_ are called "the baser order
+  of feathers," and _sear_, we are told, is "the yellow part between the
+  beak and the eyes of the hawk." After all, _sear_ may be a misprint
+  for _soar_, and this would make the resemblance in the two passages
+  the stronger.--_Collier._
+
+  [315] The metaphor is taken from a cock, who in his pride _prunes
+  himself_, that is, picks off the loose feathers to smooth the rest.
+  See notes by Dr Johnson and Mr Steevens to "First Part of King Henry
+  IV.," act i. sc. 1.
+
+  The previous metaphors and phrases are from _falconry_, and probably
+  the allusion is meant to be continued here: a _hawk_ may be said to
+  _prune itself sleek_ just as well as a _cock_.--_Collier._
+
+  [316] See a translation of Apuleius's "Golden Asse," by William
+  Adlington, 4º, 1566.
+
+  [317] The 4º of 1615 omits _was_.--_Collier._
+
+  [318] This appears to be the same as if, in modern language, he had
+  said, _I stand_ at so many, a term still used at the game of
+  _commerce_, and once perhaps current at many others; for it is not
+  very certain at what particular game the deluded Trincalo supposes
+  himself to be playing.--_Steevens._
+
+  The terms in the text appear to have been used at primero. I believe,
+  therefore, Trincalo imagines himself to be playing at that game. It
+  appears from a passage in "Nugæ Antiquæ," that fifty-five was esteemed
+  a number which might safely be relied on. See note to "Lingua," [ix.
+  387, 388.]
+
+  [319] See note to "The City Nightcap," [act iv. sc. 4, vol. xiii.; and
+  Dyce's "Shakespeare Glossary," _v._ Haggard.]
+
+  [320] "_Stooping_," says Latham, "is when a hawke, being upon her
+  wings at the height of her pitch, bendeth violently down to strike the
+  fowle, or any other prey." So in "The Alchymist," act v. sc. 5--
+
+      "Here stands my dove: _stoop_ at her if you dare."
+
+  "Again, Milton, in "Paradise Lost," bk. xi. 1. 185.
+
+      "The bird of Jove, _stoop'd_ from his aery tour,
+      Two birds of gayest plume before him drove."
+
+  [321] _i.e._, Two footmen in _garded_ or _laced_ liveries. So
+  in "The Merchant of Venice," act ii. sc. 2--
+
+              "Give him a livery
+      More _garded_ than his fellows."
+
+  --_Steevens._
+
+  [322] _i.e._, Embraced me.
+
+  [323] [Old copy, _and_.]
+
+  [324] The two stanzas decrease and then increase, after the manner of
+  wings. See the Greek poet Simmias Rhodius.--_Pegge._
+
+  [325] [Old copy, _his_.]
+
+  [326] Hitherto the reading has been--
+
+      "'Twas a hard passage; but not so dangerous
+      As was this vessel."
+
+  The true word and the measure have been restored from the old
+  copy.--_Collier._
+
+
+
+
+ACT IV., SCENE I.
+
+[ANTONIO _solus_.]
+
+
+    ANT. Thus, by great favour of propitious stars,
+    From fearful storms, shipwreck and raging billows,
+    [And] merciless jaws of death, am I return'd
+    To th' safe and quiet bosom of my country
+    And wish'd embracements of my friends and kindred.
+    The memory of these misfortunes pass'd
+    Seasons the welcome, and augments the pleasure
+    I shall receive of my son Lelio
+    And daughter Flavia. So doth alloy
+    Make gold, that else were useless, serviceable;
+    So the rugg'd forehead of a threat'ning mountain
+    Heightens[327] the smoothness of a smiling valley.
+
+
+SCENE II.
+
+_Enter_ CRICCA.
+
+    CRI. What do I see? Is not this Trincalo,
+    Transform'd t' Antonio? 'tis: and so perfectly
+    That, did the right Antonio now confront him,
+    I'd swear they both were true, or both were false.
+
+    ANT. This man admires the unexpectedness
+    Of my return.
+
+    CRI. O wondrous power of stars,
+    And skill of art t' apply't! You that are married
+    May justly fear, lest this astrologer
+    Clothe your wives' servants in your shape, and use you
+    As Jupiter did Amphitryo. You, that are rich,
+    In your own form may lose your gold.
+
+    ANT. 'Tis Cricca.
+
+    CRI. He seems so just the man he represents,
+    That I dare hardly use him as I purpos'd.
+
+    ANT. Cricca, well-met; how fares my friend Pandolfo?
+
+    CRI. Your friend Pandolfo! how are your means improv'd,
+    To style familiarly your master friend?
+
+    ANT. What say'st thou?
+
+    CRI. That I rejoice your worship's safe return
+
+    From your late drowning. Th' Exchange hath giv'n you lost,
+    And all your friends worn mourning three months past.
+
+    ANT. The danger of the shipwreck I escap'd
+    So desperate was, that I may truly say
+    I am new-born, not sav'd.
+
+    CRI. Ha, ha, ha! through what a grace
+    And goodly countenance the rascal speaks!
+    What a grave portance! could Antonio
+    Himself outdo him? O you notorious villain!
+    Who would have thought thou couldst have thus dissembled?
+
+    ANT. How now! a servant thus familiar? Sirrah,
+    Use your companions so: more reverence
+    Becomes you better.
+
+    CRI. As though I understood not
+    The end of all this plot and goodly business.
+    Come, I know all. See! this untill'd clod of earth
+    Conceits his mind transform'd as well as body.
+    He wrings and bites his lips for fear of laughing.
+    Ha, ha, ha!
+
+    ANT. Why laugh you, sirrah?
+
+    CRI. Sirrah, to see thee chang'd
+    So strangely, that I cannot spy an inch
+    Of thy old clownish carcase: ha, ha!
+
+    ANT. Laughter proceeds
+    From absurd actions that are harmless.
+
+    CRI. Ha, ha, ha!
+    Sententious blockhead!
+
+    ANT. And y' are ill-advis'd
+    To jest instead of pity. Alas! my miseries,
+    Dangers of death, slav'ry of cruel Moors
+    And tedious journeys, might have easily alter'd
+    A stronger body, much more this decay'd vessel,
+    Out-worn with age, and broken by misfortunes.
+
+    CRI. Leave your set speeches. Go to Antonio's house,
+    Effect your business; for, upon my credit,
+    Th' art so well-turn'd, they dare not but accept thee.
+
+    ANT. Where should I hope for welcome, if not there--
+    From my own house, children, and family?
+
+    CRI. Is't possible this coxcomb should conceive
+    His mind transform'd? How gravely he continues
+    The countenance he began! ha, ha! Why, blockhead,
+    Think'st to deceive me too? Why, Trincalo!
+
+    ANT. I understand you not. Hands off.
+
+    CRI. Art not thou Trincalo,
+    Pandolfo's man?
+
+    ANT. I not so much as know him.
+
+    CRI. Dar'st thou deny't to me?
+
+    ANT. I dare, and must
+    To all the world, long as Antonio lives.
+
+    CRI. You arrant ass! have I not known thee serve
+    My master in his farm this thirteen years?
+
+    ANT. By all the oaths that bind men's consciences
+    To truth, I am Antonio, and no other.
+
+
+SCENE III.
+
+_Enter_ PANDOLFO.
+
+    PAN. What means this noise? O Cricca! what's the matter?
+
+    CRI. Sir, here's your farmer Trincalo, transform'd
+    So just, as he were melted, and new-cast
+    In the true mould of old Antonio.
+
+    PAN. Th' right eye's no liker to the left, than he
+    To my good neighbour. Divine Albumazar!
+    How I admire thy skill! Just so he look'd,
+    And thus he walk'd: this is his face, his hair:
+    His eyes and countenance. If his voice be like,
+    Then is th' astrologer a wonder-worker.
+
+    ANT. Signior Pandolfo, I thank the heavens as much
+    To find you well, as for my own return.
+    How does your daughter and my love Sulpitia?
+
+    PAN. Well, well, sir.
+
+    CRI. This is a good beginning:
+    How naturally the rogue dissembles it!
+    With what a gentle garb and civil grace
+    He speaks and looks! How cunningly Albumazar
+    Hath for our purpose suited him in Barbary clothes!
+    I'll try him further, sir; we heard
+    You were drown'd; pray you, how 'scap'd you shipwreck?
+
+    ANT. No sooner was I shipp'd for Barbary,
+    But fair wind follow'd, and fair weather led us.
+    When, enter'd in the straits of Gibraltar,
+    The heavens, and seas, and earth conspir'd against us;
+    The tempest tore our helm, and rent our tackles,
+    Broke the mainmast, while all the sea about us
+    Stood up in wat'ry mountains to o'erwhelm us,
+    And struck's against a rock, splitting the vessel
+    T' a thousand splinters. I, with two mariners,
+    Swam to the coast, where by the barbarous Moors
+    We were surpris'd, fetter'd, and sold for slaves.
+
+    CRI. This tale th' astrologer penn'd, and he hath conn'd it.
+
+    ANT. But by a gentleman of Italy,
+    Whom I had known before----
+
+    PAN. No more; this taste
+    Proves thou canst play the rest. For this fair story,
+    My hand; I make thy ten pounds twenty marks,
+    Thou look'st and speak'st so like Antonio.
+
+    ANT. Whom should I look and speak like, but myself?
+
+    CRI. Good still!
+
+    PAN. But now, my honest Trincalo,
+    Tell me where's all the plate, the gold, and jewels,
+    That the astrologer, when he had transform'd thee,
+    Committed to thy charge? are they safe-lock'd?
+
+    ANT. I understand you not.
+
+    PAN. The jewels, man;
+    The plate and gold th' astrologer that chang'd thee
+    Bad thee lay up.
+
+    ANT. What plate? What gold? What jewels?
+    What transformation? What astrologer?
+
+    CRI. Leave off Antonio now, and speak like Trincalo.
+
+    ANT. Leave off your jesting. It neither fits your place
+    Nor age, Pandolfo, to scoff your ancient friend.
+    I know not what you mean by gold and jewels,
+    Nor by th' astrologer, nor Trincalo.
+
+    CRI. Better and better still. Believe me, sir,
+    He thinks himself Antonio, and ever shall be,
+    And so possess your plate. Art thou not Trincalo,
+    My master's farmer?
+
+    ANT. I am Antonio,
+    Your master's friend, if he teach you more manners.
+
+    PAN. Humour of wiving's gone. Farewell, good Flavia.
+    Three thousand pound must not be lost so slightly.
+    Come, sir; we'll drag you to th' astrologer,
+    And turn you to your ragged bark of yeomanry.
+
+    ANT. To me these terms?
+
+    PAN. Come, I'll not lose my plate.
+
+    CRI. Stay, sir, and take my counsel. Let him still
+    Firmly conceit himself the man he seems:
+    Thus he, himself deceiv'd, will far more earnestly
+    Effect your business, and deceive the rest.
+    There's a main difference 'twixt a self-bred action
+    And a forc'd carriage. Suffer him, then, to enter
+    Antonio's house, and wait th' event: for him,
+    He cannot 'scape: what you intend to do,
+    Do't, when he has serv'd your turn. I see the maid;
+    Let's hence, lest they suspect our consultations.
+
+    PAN. Thy counsel's good: away.
+
+    CRI. Look, Trincalo,
+    Yonder's your beauteous mistress Armellina,
+    And, [sir, your] daughter Flavia. Courage, I warrant thee.
+                                  [_Exeunt_ PANDOLFO _and_ CRICCA.
+
+    ANT. Bless'd be the heav'ns that rid me of this trouble;
+    For with their farmer and astrologer,
+    Plate and gold, they have almost madded me.
+
+
+SCENE IV.
+
+FLAVIA, ARMELLINA, ANTONIO.
+
+    FLA. Armellina.
+
+    ARM. Mistress.
+
+    FLA. Is the door fast?
+
+    ARM. Yes, as an usurer's purse.
+
+    FLA. Come hither, wench.
+    Look here; there's Trincalo, Pandolfo's farmer,
+    Wrapp'd in my father's shape: prythee, come quickly,
+    And help me to abuse him.
+
+    ARM. Notorious clown!
+
+    ANT. These are my gates, and that's the cabinet,
+    That keeps my jewels, Lelio and his sister.
+
+    FLA. Never was villainy so personate
+    In seemly properties of gravity.            [ANTONIO _knocks_.
+
+    FLA. Who's he that knocks so boldly?
+
+    ARM. What want you, sir?
+
+    ANT. O my fair daughter Flavia! let all the stars
+    Pour down full blessings on thee. Ope the doors.
+
+    FLA. Mark! his fair daughter Flavia, ha, ha, ha!
+    Most shameless villain, how he counterfeits!
+
+    ANT. Know'st not thy father, old Antonio?
+    Is all the world grown frantic?
+
+    FLA. What, Antonio?
+
+    ANT. Thy loving father, Flavia.
+
+    FLA. My father!
+    Would thou wert in his place. Antonio's dead,
+    Dead, under water drown'd.
+
+    ANT. That dead and drown'd
+    Am I.
+
+    FLA. I love not to converse with dead men.
+
+    ANT. Ope the door, sweet Flavia.
+
+    FLA. Sir, I am afeard;
+    Horror incloses me, my hairs stand up,
+    I sweat to hear a dead man speak: you smell
+    Of putrefaction; fie! I feel't hither.
+
+    ANT. Th' art much abus'd; I live. Come down, and know me.
+
+    ARM. Mistress, let me have some sport too.
+    Who's there?
+
+    ANT. Let me come in.
+
+    ARM. Soft, soft, sir; y' are too hasty.
+
+    ANT. Quickly, or else----
+
+    ARM. Good words, good words, I pray, sir,
+    In strangers' houses! were the doors your own,
+    You might be bolder.
+
+    ANT. I'll beat the doors and windows
+    About your ears.
+
+    ARM. Are you so hot? We'll cool you.
+    Since your late drowning, your grey and reverend head
+    Is smear'd with ooze, and stuck with cockle-shells:
+    This is to wash it.                    [_Throws water on him._
+
+    ANT. Impudent whore!
+
+    ARM. Out, carter:
+    Hence, dirty whipstock,[328] hence,
+    You foul clown; begone, or all the water
+    I can make or borrow shall once more drown you.
+
+
+SCENE V.
+
+LELIO, ANTONIO, ARMELLINA.
+
+    LEL. Armellina, whom do you draw your tongue upon so sharply?
+
+    ARM. Sir, 'tis your father's ghost, that strives by force
+    To break the doors, and enter.
+
+    LEL. This! his grave looks!
+    In every lineament himself no liker.
+    Had I not happily been advertised,
+    What could have forc'd me think 'twere Trincalo?
+    Doubtless th' astrologer hath rais'd a ghost,
+    That walks in th' reverend shape of my dead father.
+
+    ANT. These ghosts, these Trincalos, and astrologers,
+    Strike me beside myself. Who will receive me,
+    When mine own son refuseth? O Antonio!
+
+    LEL. Infinite power of art! who would believe
+    The planets' influence could transform a man
+    To several shapes? I could now beat him soundly,
+    But that he wears the awful countenance
+    Of my dead father, whose memory I reverence.
+
+    ANT. If I be chang'd beyond thy knowledge, son,
+
+    Consider that th' excess of heat in Barbary,
+    The fear of shipwreck, and long tedious journeys,
+    Have tann'd my skin, and shrunk my eyes and cheeks;
+    Yet still this face, though alter'd, may be known:
+    This scar bears witness; 'twas the wound thou cur'dst
+    With thine own hands.
+
+    LEL. He that chang'd Trincalo
+    T' Antonio's figure omitted not the scar
+    As a main character.
+
+    ANT. I have no other marks
+    Or reasons to persuade thee: methinks these words,[329]
+    _I am thy father_, were argument sufficient
+    To bend thy knees, and creep to my embracement.
+
+    LEL. A sudden coldness strikes me: my tender heart[330]
+    Beats with compassion of I know not what.
+    Sirrah, begone; truss up your goodly speeches,
+    Sad shipwrecks and strange transformations;
+    Your plot's discover'd, 'twill not take: thy impudence
+    For once I pardon. The pious reverence
+    I owe to th' grave resemblance of my father
+    Holds back my angry hands. Hence! if I catch you
+    Haunting my doors again, I'll bastinado you
+    Out of Antonio's skin. Away.
+
+    ANT. I go, sir;
+    And yield to such cross fortune as thus drives me.  [_Exeunt._
+
+
+SCENE VI.
+
+TRINCALO, _and_ BEVILONA _dressing him_.
+
+    TRIN. When this transformed substance[331] of my carcase
+    Did live imprison'd in a wanton hogshead,
+    My name was Don Antonio, and that title
+    Preserv'd my life, and chang'd my suit of clothes.
+    How kindly the good gentlewoman used me!
+    With what respect and careful tenderness!
+
+[BEV.] Your worship, sir, had ever a sickly constitution, and I fear
+much more now, since your long travel. As you love me, off with these
+wet things, and put on the suit you left with me, before you went to
+Barbary. Good sir, neglect not your health; for, upon my experience,
+there is nothing worse for the rheum than to be drenched in a musty
+hogshead.
+
+[TRIN.] Pretty soul! such another speech would have drawn off my legs
+and arms, as easily as hose and doublet. Had I been Trincalo, I'd have
+sworn th' had cheated: but, fie! 'tis base and clownish to suspect, and
+['tis] a gentleman's freeness to part with a cast suit. Now to the
+business: I'll into my own house, and first bestow Armellina upon
+Trincalo; then try what can be done for Pandolfo: for 'tis a rule I want
+t' observe, first do your own affairs, and next your master's. This word
+master makes me doubt I am not changed as I should be. But all's one:
+I'll venture, and do something worthy Antonio's name while I have it.
+
+
+SCENE VII.
+
+ANTONIO, TRINCALO.
+
+    ANT. Wretched Antonio! hast been preserv'd so strangely
+    From foreign miseries, to be wrong'd at home?
+    Barr'd from thy house by the scorn of thine own children?
+                                               [TRINCALO _knocks_.
+    But stay, there's one knocks boldly; 't may be some friend.
+                                         [TRINCALO _knocks again_.
+    Dwell you here, gentleman?
+
+    TRIN. He calls me gentleman:
+    See th' virtue of good clothes! All men salute,
+    Honour, respect, and reverence us.
+
+    ANT. Young gentleman,
+    Let me without offence entreat your name,
+    And why you knock?
+
+    TRIN. How, sirrah saucebox, my name!
+    Or thou some stranger art or grossly ignorant,
+    That know'st not me. Ha! what art thou that ask'st it?
+
+    ANT. Be not in choler, sir.
+
+    TRIN. Befits it me,
+    A gentleman of public reputation,
+    To stoop so low as satisfy the questions
+    Of base and earthly pieces like thyself?
+    What art thou? ha?
+
+    ANT. Th' unfortunate possessor of this house.
+
+    TRIN. Thou liest, base sycophant, my worship owes[332] it.
+
+    ANT. May be, my son hath sold it in my absence,
+    Thinking me dead. How long has't call'd you master?
+
+    TRIN. 'Long as Antonio possess'd it
+
+    ANT. Which Antonio?
+
+    TRIN. Antonio Anastasio.
+
+    ANT. That Anastasio,
+    That was drown'd in Barbary?
+
+    TRIN. That Anastasio,
+    That selfsame man, am I: I 'scap'd by swimming,
+    And now return to keep my former promise
+    Of Flavia to Pandolfo; and, in exchange,
+    To take Sulpitia to my wife.
+
+    ANT. All this
+    I intended 'fore I went: but, sir, if I
+    Can be no other than myself, and you
+    Are that Antonio, you and I are one.
+
+    TRIN. How? one with thee? speak such another syllable, [_Draws._
+    And, by the terror of this deadly steel,
+    That ne'er saw light, but sent to endless darkness
+    All that durst stand before't, thou diest.
+
+    ANT. Alas! My weakness, grown by age and pains of travel,
+    Disarms my courage to defend myself;
+    I have no strength, but patience.
+
+    TRIN. What art now?                          [_Threatens him._
+
+    ANT. Peter and Thomas, William, what you please.
+
+    TRIN. What boldness madded thee to steal my name?
+
+    ANT. Sir, heat of wine.
+
+    TRIN. And, sirrah, when y' are drunk,
+    Is there no person to put on but mine,
+    To cover your intended villanies?
+
+    ANT. But, good sir, if I be not I, who am I?
+
+    TRIN. An ox, an ass, a dog.
+
+    ANT. Strange negligence
+    To lose myself! methinks I live and move--
+    Remember. Could the fearful apprehension
+    Or[333] th' ugly fear of drowning so transform me?
+    Or did I die, and by Pythagoras' rule,
+    My soul's provided of another lodging?
+
+    TRIN. Be what thou wilt, except Antonio:
+    'Tis death to touch that name.
+
+    ANT. Dangers at sea
+    Are pleasures, weigh'd with these home-injuries.
+    Was ever man thus scar'd beside himself?
+    0 most unfortunate Antonio!
+    At sea thou suffer'dst shipwreck of thy goods,
+    At land of thine own self. Antonio--
+    Or what name else they please--fly, fly to Barbary!
+    And rather there endure the foreign cruelty
+    Of fetters, whips, and Moors, than here at home
+    Be wrong'd and baffled by thy friends and children.
+
+    TRIN. How! prating still? why, Timothy, begone,
+    Or draw, and lay Antonio down betwixt us?
+    Let fortune of the fight decide the question.
+    Here's a brave rogue, that in the king's highway
+    Offers to rob me of my good name. Draw!
+
+    ANT. These wrongs recall my strength, I am resolv'd:
+    Better die once, than suffer always. Draw!
+
+    TRIN. Stay: understand'st thou well nice points of duel?
+    Art born of gentle blood and pure descent?[334]
+    Was none of all thy lineage hang'd or cuckold,
+    Bastard or bastinado'd? Is thy pedigree
+    As long, as wide, as mine? for otherwise
+    Thou wert most unworthy; and 'twere loss of honour
+    In me to fight. More, I have drawn five teeth:[335]
+    If thine stand sound, the terms are much unequal.
+    And, by strict laws of duel, I am excus'd
+    To fight on disadvantage.
+
+    ANT. This is some ass!
+
+    TRIN. If we concur in all, write a formal challenge,
+    And bring thy second: meanwhile, I make provision
+    Of Calais sand,[336] to fight upon securely. Ha!
+                                                  [_Exit_ ANTONIO.
+
+
+SCENE VIII.
+
+LELIO, CRICCA, TRINCALO.
+
+    LEL. Am I awake? or do deceitful dreams
+    Present to my wild fancy things I see not?
+
+    CRI. Sir, what amazement's this? Why wonder you?
+
+    LEL. See'st thou not Trincalo and Antonio?
+
+    CRI. O, strange! they're both here.
+
+    LEL. Didst not thou inform me
+    That Trincalo was turn'd to Antonio?
+    Which I believing, like a cursed son,
+    With most reproachful threats drove mine old father
+    From his own doors; and yet rest doubtful whether
+    This be the true Antonio: maybe, th' astrologer
+    Hath chang'd some other, and not Trincalo.
+
+    CRI. No, fear it not, 'tis plain: Albumazar
+    Hath cheated my old master of his plate.
+    For here's the farmer, as like himself as ever;
+    Only his clothes excepted. Trincalo.
+
+    TRIN. Cricca, where's Trincalo? Dost see him here?
+
+    CRI. Yes, and as rank an ass as e'er he was.
+
+    TRIN. Thou'rt much deceiv'd: thou neither see'st nor know'st me.
+    I am transform'd, transform'd.
+
+    CRI. Th' art still thyself.
+    Lelio, this farmer's half a fool, half knave;
+    And as Pandolfo did with much entreaty
+    Persuade him to transform, so, as much labour
+    Will hardly bring the coxcomb to himself,
+    That ne'er was out on't. Who art, if not he?
+
+    TRIN. My name is Don Antonio: I am now going
+    To my own house, to give Pandolfo Flavia,
+    And Armellina to his farmer Trincalo.
+    How dar'st thou, Cricca (but a meaner servant),
+    Resemble me (a man of worth and worship),
+    To such a clown as Trincalo, a branded fool,
+    An ass, a laughing-stock to town and country?
+    Art not asham'd to name him with Antonio?
+
+    LEL. Do not thy actions, with thy rude behaviour,
+    Proclaim thee what thou art?
+
+    CRI. Notorious clown!                            [_Beats him._
+
+    TRIN. Villain! th' hast broke my shoulders.
+
+    LEL. O, didst feel him?
+
+    TRIN. Ay, with a pox.
+
+    LEL. Then th' art still Trincalo,
+    For, hadst thou been Antonio, he had smarted.
+
+    TRIN. I feel it, as I am Antonio.
+
+    CRI. Fool! who loves Armellina?
+
+    TRIN. 'Tis I, 'tis I.
+
+    CRI. Antonio never lov'd his kitchen-maid.
+
+    TRIN. Well, I was taken for Antonio,
+    And in his name receiv'd ten pound in gold,
+    Was by his mistress entertain'd; but thou
+    Envy'st my happiness: if thou hast th' ambition
+    To rise as I have done, go to Albumazar,
+    And let him change thee to a knight or lord.
+
+    CRI. Note the strange power of strong imagination.
+
+    TRIN. A world of engines cannot wrest my thoughts
+    From being a gentleman: I am one, and will be:
+    And, though I be not, yet will think myself so,
+    And scorn thee, Cricca, as a slave and servant.       [_Exit._
+
+
+SCENE IX.
+
+CRICCA, LELIO, ANTONIO.
+
+    CRI. 'Tis but lost labour to dissuade his dulness.
+    Believe me, that's your father.
+
+    LEL. When I drove him hence,
+    Spite of my blood, his reverend countenance
+    Struck me t' a deep compassion. To clear all,
+    I'll ask one question. Signior Antonio,
+    What money took you when you went your voyage?
+
+    ANT. As I remember, fourscore and fifteen pound
+    In Barbary gold. Had Lucio kept his word,
+    I had carried just a hundred.
+
+    LEL. Pardon me, father;
+    'Twas my blind ignorance, not want of duty,
+    That wrong'd you; all was intended for a farmer,
+    Whom an astrologer, they said, transform'd.
+
+    ANT. How, an astrologer?
+
+    LEL. When you parted hence,
+    It seems you promis'd Flavia to Pandolfo.
+    News of your death arriving, th' old gentleman
+    Importunes me to second what you purpos'd.
+    Consulting therefore with my friends and kindred:
+    Loth my young sister should be buried quick
+    I' th' grave of threescore years; by their advice
+    I fully did deny him. He chafes and storms,
+    And finds at length a cunning man, that promis'd
+    To turn his farmer to your shape, and thus
+    Possess your house, and give him Flavia:
+    Whereof I, warn'd, wrong'd you instead of Trincalo.
+
+    ANT. Then hence it came they call'd me Trincalo,
+    And talk'd of an astrologer; which names
+    Almost enrag'd me past myself and senses.
+    'Tis true I promis'd, but have oft repented it;
+    And much more since he goes about to cheat me.
+    He must not have her, sir.
+
+    LEL. I am glad y' are so resolv'd.
+    And since with us you find that match unequal,
+    Let's all entreat you to bestow your daughter
+    Upon his son Eugenio.
+
+    ANT. Son, at your pleasure,
+    Dispose of Flavia with my full consent.
+
+    LEL. And as you judge him worthy your daughter Flavia,
+    Think me no less of his Sulpitia.
+
+    ANT. I do, and ever had desire to match
+    Into that family; and now I find myself
+    Old, weak, unfit for marriage, you shall enjoy her,
+    If I can work Pandolfo by entreaty.
+
+    CRI. To deal with him with reason and entreaties,
+    Is to persuade a madman: for his love
+    Makes him no less. All speeches opposite
+    T' his fix'd desire and love-corrupted judgment
+    Seem extreme fooleries. Will he consent
+    To give his daughter to your son, and you
+    Deny him Flavia? Shall Eugenio
+    Expect or land or love from old Pandolfo,
+    Being his open rival? 'Tis impossible.
+    He sought to cosen you; therefore resolve
+    To pay him in's own money. Be but advis'd
+    By my poor counsel, and one stroke shall cut
+    The root of his designs, and with his arrows
+    Strike his own plot so dead, that ev'n Albumazar,
+    With all his stars and instruments, shall never
+    Give it fresh motion.
+
+    ANT. Cricca, to thy direction
+    We yield ourselves; manage us at thy pleasure.
+
+    LEL. Speak quickly, Cricca.
+
+    CRI. The ground of all this business
+    Is to catch Trincalo, and lock him fast,
+    Till I release him: next, that no man whisper
+    Th' least word of your return. Then will I home,
+    And with a cheerful look tell my old master,
+    That Trincalo--but stay, look where he comes!
+    Let's in, and there at leisure I'll inform you
+    From point to point. Lelio, detain him here,
+    Till I send Armellina down to second you.
+    Cross him in nothing; call him Antonio,
+    And good enough.
+
+    LEL. Fear not: let me alone.   [_Exeunt_ CRICCA _and_ ANTONIO.
+
+
+SCENE X.
+
+TRINCALO, LELIO.
+
+    TRIN. This rascal Cricca, with his arguments
+    Of malice, so disturbs my gentle thoughts,
+    That I half doubt I am not what I seem:
+    But that will soon be clear'd; if they receive me
+    In at Antonio's house, I am Antonio.
+
+    LEL. Signior Antonio, my most loving father!
+    Bless'd be the day and hour of your return.
+
+    TRIN. Son Lelio! a blessing on my child; I pray thee, tell me
+    How fares my servant Armellina? well?
+
+    LEL. Have you forgot my sister Flavia?
+
+    TRIN. What, my dear daughter Flavia? No: but first
+    Call Armellina; for this day we'll celebrate
+    A gleek of marriages:[337] Pandolfo and Flavia,
+    Sulpitia and myself, and Trincalo
+    With Armellina. Call her, good Lelio, quickly.         [_Exit._
+
+    TRIN. So: this is well, that Lelio
+    Confesses me his father. Now I am perfect--
+    Perfect Antonio.
+
+
+SCENE XI.
+
+ARMELLINA, TRINCALO.
+
+    ARM. Signior Antonio!
+    My long-expected master!
+
+    TRIN. O Armellina!
+    Come, let me kiss thy brow[338] like my own daughter.
+
+    ARM. Sir, 'tis too great a favour. I kiss your foot.
+    What, fall'n? alas! how feeble you are grown
+    With your long travel!
+
+    TRIN. True, and being drown'd,
+    Nothing so griev'd me as to lose thy company:
+    But, since I am safe return'd, for thy good service
+    I'll help thee to a husband.
+
+    ARM. A husband, sir?
+    Some young and lusty youth, or else I'll none.
+
+    TRIN. To one that loves thee dearly, dearly, wench:
+    A goodly man, like me in limbs and fashion.
+
+    ARM. Fie, an old man! how! cast myself away,
+    And be no nurse but his?
+
+    TRIN. He's not like me
+    In years and gravity, but fair proportion;
+    A handsome, well-set man as I.
+
+    ARM. His name?
+
+    TRIN. 'Tis Tom Trincalo of Totnam.
+
+    ARM. Signior Pandolfo's lusty farmer?
+
+    TRIN. That's he.
+
+    ARM. Most unexpected happiness! 'tis the man
+    I more esteem than my own life: sweet master,
+    Procure that match, and think me satisfied
+    For all my former service without wages.
+    But, ah! I fear you jest. My poor unworthiness
+    Hopes not so great a fortune as sweet Trincalo.
+    No, wretched Armellina, in and despair:
+    Back to thy mournful dresser; there lament
+    Thy flesh to kitchen-stuff, and bones to ashes,
+    For love of thy sweet farmer.
+
+    TRIN. Alas! poor soul,
+    How prettily she weeps for me! Wilt see him?
+
+    ARM. My soul waits in my eyes, and leaves my body
+    Senseless.
+
+    TRIN. Then swear to keep my counsel.
+
+    ARM. I swear
+    By th' beauteous eyes of Trincalo.
+
+    TRIN. Why, I am Trincalo.
+
+    ARM. Your worship, sir! why do you flout your servant,
+    Right worshipful Antonio, my reverend master?
+
+    TRIN. Pox of Antonio! I am Tom Trincalo.
+    Why laugh'st thou?
+
+    ARM. 'Tis desire and joy
+    To see my sweetest.
+
+    TRIN. Look upon me, and see him.
+
+    ARM. I say I see Antonio, and none other.
+
+    TRIN. I am within, thy love; without, thy master.
+    Th' astrologer transform'd me for a day.
+
+    ARM. Mock not your poor maid, pray you, sir.
+
+    TRIN. I do not.
+    Now would I break this head against the stones,
+    To be unchang'd; fie on this gentry! it sticks
+    Like birdlime or the pox. I cannot part with't:
+    Within I am still thy farmer Trincalo.
+
+    ARM. Then must I wait, till old Antonio
+    Be brought to bed of a young[339] Trincalo;
+    Or flay you, and strip you to yourself again.
+
+    TRIN. Carry me to your chamber. Try me there.
+
+    ARM. O, sir, by no means; but with my lovely farmer
+    I'd stay all night, and thank him.
+
+    TRIN. Cross misfortune!
+    Accurs'd Albumazar and mad Pandolfo!
+    To change me thus, that, when I most desire
+    To be myself, I cannot. Armellina,
+    Fetch me a looking-glass.
+
+    ARM. To what end?
+
+    TRIN. Fetch one.
+    Let my old master's business sink or swim,
+    This sweet occasion must not be neglected.
+    Now shall I know th' astrologer's skill.[340] O wonderful!
+    Admir'd Albumazar in two transmutations!
+    Here's my old farmer's face. How in an instant
+    I am unchang'd, that was so long a-changing!
+    Here's my flat nose again, &c.
+    Now, Armellina, take thy lov'd Trincalo
+    To thy desired embracements; use thy pleasure,
+    Kiss him thy bellyful.
+
+    ARM. Not here in public.
+    T' enjoy too soon what pleaseth, is unpleasant:
+    The world would envy that my happiness.
+    Go in, I'll follow you, and in my bedchamber
+    We'll consummate the match in privacy.
+
+    TRIN. Was not the face I wore far worse than this?
+    But for thy comfort, wench, Albumazar
+    Hath dyed my thoughts so deep i' th' grain of gentry,
+    'Tis not a glass can rob me of my good fashions
+    And gentleman-like garb. Follow, my dear.
+
+    ARM. I'll follow you. So, now y' are fast enough.
+
+    TRIN. Help, Armellina, help! I am fall'n i' th' cellar:
+    Bring a fresh plantain leaf,[341] I have broke my shin.
+
+    ARM. Thus have I caught m' a husband in a trap,
+    And in good earnest mean to marry him.
+    'Tis a tough clown, and lusty: he works day and night;
+    And rich enough for me, that have no portion
+    But my poor service. Well, he's something foolish;
+    The better can I domineer, and rule him
+    At pleasure. That's the mark and utmost height
+    We women aim at. I am resolv'd I'll have him.
+
+
+SCENE XII.
+
+LELIO, CRICCA.
+
+    LEL. In, Armellina; lock up Trincalo.
+
+    ARM. I will, sir.                                     [_Exit._
+
+    LEL. Cricca, for this thy counsel, if't succeed,
+    Fear not thy master's anger: I'll prefer thee,
+    And count thee as my genius or good fortune.
+
+    CRI. It cannot choose but take. I know his humour;
+    And can at pleasure feather him with hopes,
+    Making him fly what pitch I wish, and stoop,[342]
+    When I show fowl.
+
+    LEL. But for the suit of clothes?
+
+    CRI. I'll throw them o'er your garden-wall. Away.
+    Haste to Eugenio and Sulpitia,
+    Acquaint them with the business.
+
+    LEL.                  I go.
+
+
+SCENE XIII.
+
+LELIO, SULPITIA.
+
+    LEL. The hopeful issue of thy counsel, Cricca,
+    Brightens this ev'ning, and makes it more excel
+    The clearest day, than a grey morning doth
+    The blindest midnight, raising my amorous thoughts
+    To such a pitch of joy, that riches, honour,
+    And other pleasures, to Sulpitia's love
+    Appear like mole-hills to the moon.
+
+    SUL. Lelio!
+
+    LEL. O, there's the voice that in one note contains
+    All chords of music: how gladly she'll embrace
+    The news I give her and the messenger!
+
+    SUL. Soft, soft, y' are much mistaken; for in earnest,
+    I am angry, Lelio, and with you.
+
+    LEL. Sweetest, those flames
+    Rise from the fire of love, and soon will quench
+    I' th' welcome news I bring you.
+
+    SUL. Stand still, I charge you
+    By th' virtue of my lips; speak not a syllable,
+    As you expect a kiss should close my choler;
+    For I must chide you.
+
+    LEL. O my Sulpitia!
+    Were every speech a pistol charg'd with death,
+    I'd stand them all in hope of that condition.
+
+    SUL. First, sir, I hear you teach Eugenio
+    Too grave a wariness in your sister's love,
+    And kill his honest forwardness of affection
+    With your far-fet[343] respects, suspicions, fears:
+    You have your maybes--"This is dangerous:
+    That course were better; for if so, and yet
+    Who knows? the event is doubtful; be advis'd,
+    'Tis a young rashness: your father is your father;
+    Take leisure to consider." Thus y' have consider'd
+    Poor Flavia almost to her grave. Fie, Lelio!
+    Had this my smallness undertook the business,
+    And done no more in four short winter's days
+    Than you in four months, I'd have vowed my maidenhead
+    To th' living tomb of a sad nunnery;
+    Which for your sake I loathe.
+
+    LEL. Sweet, by your favour----
+
+    SUL. Peace, peace: now y' are so wise, as if ye had eaten
+    Nothing but brains and marrow of Machiavel:
+    You tip your speeches with Italian _motti_,[344]
+    Spanish _refranes_,[345] and English _quoth he's_. Believe me,
+    There's not a proverb salts your tongue, but plants
+    Whole colonies of white hairs. O, what a business
+    These hands must have when you have married me,
+    To pick out sentences that over-year you!
+
+    LEL. Give me but leave.
+
+    SUL. Have I a lip? and you
+    Made sonnets on't? 'tis your fault, for otherwise
+    Your sister and Eugenio had been sure
+    Long time ere this.
+
+    LEL. But----
+
+    SUL. Stay, your cue's not come yet.
+    I hate as perfectly this grey-green of yours,
+    As Old Antonio's green-grey. Fie! wise lovers
+    Are most absurd. Were I not full resolved,
+    I should begin to cool mine own affection.
+    For shame, consider well your sister's temper.
+    Her melancholy may much hurt her. Respect her,
+    Or, spite of mine own love, I'll make you stay
+    Six months before you marry me.             [LELIO _whispers_.
+    This your so happy news? return'd, and safe?
+    Antonio yet alive?                          [LELIO _whispers_.
+    And what then?                              [LELIO _whispers_.
+    Well; all your business must be compassed
+    With winding plots and cunning stratagems.
+    Look to't; for if we be not married ere next morning,
+    By the great love that's hid in this small compass,
+    Flavia and myself will steal you both away,
+    To your eternal shame and foul discredit.             [_Exit._
+
+    LEL. How prettily this lovely littleness
+    In one breath pleads her own cause and my sister's!
+    Chides me, and loves. This is that pleasing temper
+    I more admire than a continued sweetness
+    That over-satisfies: 'tis salt I love, not sugar.     [_Exit._
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+  [327] _Threatens_ in both the editions. Pegge suggested _sweetens_.
+
+  [328] See note to "The Spanish Tragedy," [v. 95.]
+
+  [329] The quartos read _this word_.
+
+  [330] The whole of what follows, to the word _away_, is given in the
+  4º of 1615 as part of the speech of Antonio.--_Collier._
+
+  [331] A parody on the speech of the Ghost of Andrea, in "The Spanish
+  Tragedy."
+
+  [332] _i.e._, Owns. See note to "Cornelia," [v. 232.]
+
+  [333] [Edits., _Of_.]
+
+  [334] It appears from Segar ("Honour, Military and Civil," fol. 1602,
+  p. 122), that a person of superior birth might not be challenged by an
+  inferior, or, if challenged, might refuse the combat. Alluding to this
+  circumstance, Cleopatra says--
+
+      "These hands do lack nobility, that they strike
+      A meaner than myself."
+
+  --Act ii. sc. 5.
+
+  [335] This seems intended to ridicule some of the punctilios of
+  duelling, and probably the author had in his mind the following
+  passage in Ferne's "Blazon of Gentrie," 1586, p. 319: "But if it so
+  happen that the defendour is lame of a legge, or of an arme, or that
+  hee bee blinde of an eye, he may take such armes and weapons, as be
+  most fitte for his owne bodye; and he shall offer such to the
+  approover as shall impeache the like member, or part of the approovers
+  bodye from his dutye and office in the combate, so that he shall be
+  deprived of the use of that member in the combate, even as wel as the
+  defender is through his infirmity of lamenes, or other defect of
+  nature."
+
+  [336] Duellists being punished by law in England, it has been usual
+  for them to go over to _Calais_, as one of the nearest ports of
+  France, to decide their quarrel out of the reach of justice. Trincalo
+  is pleasant on this subject.--_Steevens._
+
+  This custom is mentioned in an epigram in Samuel Rowlands's "Good
+  Newes and Bad Newes," 1622, sig. F 2--
+
+      "Gilbert, this glove I send thee from my hand,
+      And challenge thee to meet on _Callis sand:_
+      On this day moneth resolve I will be there,
+      Where thou shalt finde my flesh I will not feare.
+      My cutler is at work," &c.
+
+  [337] _i.e._, Three. A metaphor taken from the game at cards called
+  _Gleek_, where a _gleek_ of knaves is three.--_Pegge._
+
+  [338] It is observed by Mr Steevens, that "it was formerly the fashion
+  to kiss the eyes, as a mark of extraordinary tenderness." See note to
+  "The Winter's Tale," act iv. sc. 3, where several instances are
+  produced.
+
+  Again, in Marston's "Dutch Courtesan," act ii. sc. 1--
+
+                         "Your onely voice
+      Shall cast a slumber on my listning sense
+      _You with soft lip shall only ope mine eyes,
+      And suck their lids asunder_, only you
+      Shall make me wish to live, and not feare death."
+
+  [339] Hitherto printed by Mr Reed--
+
+      "Be brought to bed of a _fair_ Trincalo;"
+
+  a reading not supported by the old copies, which have it
+  _young_.--_Collier._
+
+  [340] It must be supposed that Armellina brings a looking-glass, as
+  desired.--_Collier._
+
+  [341] Dr Grey observes from Tackius, that a toad, before she engages
+  with a spider, will fortify herself with some of this plant; and that
+  if she comes off wounded, she cures herself afterwards with it. Mr
+  Steevens says it is a blood-stauncher, and was formerly applied to
+  green wounds. See note on "Romeo and Juliet," act i. sc. 2.
+
+  [342] See note [at p. 364 _suprâ_.]
+
+  [343] _i.e._, Far-fetched. See note to "Gammer Gurton's Needle," [iii.
+    223.]
+
+  [344] Shrewd or witty sayings. See Florio's "Dictionary."
+
+  [345] _i.e._, Proverbs; a _referendo_, because it is often repeated.
+  See Stevens's "Spanish Dictionary," 1705.
+
+
+
+
+ACT V., SCENE I.
+
+ALBUMAZAR, RONCA, FURBO, HARPAX.
+
+
+    ALB. How? not a single share of this great prize,
+    That have deserv'd the whole? was't not my plot
+    And pains, and you mere instruments and porters?
+    Shall I have nothing?
+
+    RON. No, not a silver spoon.
+
+    FUR. Nor cover of a trencher-salt.[346]
+
+    HAR. Nor table-napkin.
+
+    ALB. Friends, we have kept an honest truth and faith
+    Long time amongst us: break not the sacred league,
+    By raising civil theft: turn not your fury
+    'Gainst your own bowels. Rob your careful master!
+    Are you not asham'd?
+
+    RON. 'Tis our profession,
+    As yours astrology. "And in the days of old,
+    _Good morrow, thief_, as welcome was receiv'd,
+    As now _Your worship_." 'Tis your own instruction.[347]
+
+    FUR. "The Spartans held it lawful, and th' Arabians,
+    So grew Arabia happy, Sparta valiant."
+
+    HAR. "The world's a theatre of theft: great rivers
+    Rob smaller brooks; and them the ocean."
+
+    ALB. Have not I wean'd you up from petty larceny,
+    Dangerous and poor, and nurs'd you to full strength
+    Of safe and gainful theft? by rules of art
+    And principles of cheating made you as free
+    From taking as you went invisible;
+    And do ye thus requite me? this the reward
+    For all my watchful care?
+
+    RON. We are your scholars,
+    Made by your help and our own aptness able
+    To instruct others. 'Tis the trade we live by.
+    You that are servant to divine astrology,
+    Do something worth her livery: cast figures,
+    Make almanacs for all meridians.
+
+    FUR. Sell perspicils and instruments of hearing:
+    Turn clowns to gentlemen; buzzards to falcons,
+      'ur-dogs to greyhounds; kitchen-maids to ladies.
+
+    HAR. Discover more new stars and unknown planets:
+    Vent them by dozens, style them by the names
+    Of men that buy such ware. Take lawful courses,
+    Rather than beg.
+
+    ALB. Not keep your honest promise?
+
+    RON. "Believe none, credit none: for in this city
+    No dwellers are but cheaters and cheatees."
+
+    ALB. You promis'd me the greatest share.
+
+    RON. Our promise!
+    If honest men by obligations
+    And instruments of law are hardly constrain'd
+    T' observe their word, can we, that make profession
+    Of lawless courses, do't?
+
+    ALB. Amongst ourselves!
+    Falcons, that tyrannise o'er weaker fowl,
+    Hold peace with their own feathers.
+
+    HAR. But when they counter
+    Upon one quarry,[348] break that league, as we do.
+
+    ALB. At least restore the ten pound in gold I lent you.
+
+    RON. "'Twas lent in an ill second, worser third,
+    And luckless fourth:" 'tis lost, Albumazar.
+
+    FUR. Saturn was in ascension, Mercury
+    Was then combust, when you delivered it.
+    'Twill never be restor'd.
+
+    RON. "Hali, Abenezra,
+    Hiarcha, Brachman, Budda Babylonicus,"
+    And all the Chaldees and the Cabalists,
+    Affirm that sad aspect threats loss of debts.
+
+    HAR. Frame by your azimuth Almicantarath,
+    An engine like a mace, whose quality
+    Of strange retractive virtue may recall
+    Desperate debts, and with that undo serjeants.
+
+    ALB. Was ever man thus baited by's own whelps?
+    Give me a slender portion, for a stock
+    To begin trade again.
+
+    RON. 'Tis an ill course,
+    And full of fears. This treasure hath enrich'd us,
+    And given us means to purchase and live quiet
+    Of th' fruit of dangers past. When I us'd robbing,
+    All blocks before me look'd like constables,
+    And posts appear'd in shape of gallowses;
+    Therefore, good tutor, take your pupil's counsel:
+    'Tis better beg than steal; live in poor clothes
+    Than hang in satin.
+
+    ALB. Villains, I'll be reveng'd,
+    And reveal all the business to a justice!
+
+    RON. Do, if thou long'st to see thy own anatomy.
+
+    ALB. This treachery persuades me to turn honest.
+
+    FUR. Search your nativity; see if the Fortunates
+    And Luminaries be in a good aspect,
+    And thank us for thy life. Had we done well,
+    We had cut thy throat ere this.
+
+    ALB. Albumazar,
+    Trust not these rogues: hence, and revenge.
+
+    RON. Fellows, away; here's company. Let's hence.    [_Exeunt._
+
+
+SCENE II.
+
+CRICCA, PANDOLFO.
+
+    CRI. Now, Cricca, mask thy countenance in joy;
+    Speak welcome language of good news, and move
+    Thy master, whose desires are credulous,
+    To believe what thou giv'st him. If thy design
+    Land at the haven 'tis bound for, then Lelio,
+    Eugenio, and their mistresses, are oblig'd
+    By oath t' assure a state of forty pounds
+    Upon thee for thy life.
+
+    PAN. I long to know
+    How my good farmer speeds; how Trincalo
+    Hath been receiv'd by Lelio.
+
+    CRI. Where shall I find him?
+    What we most seek still flies us; what's avoided,
+    Follows or meets us full. I am emboss'd[349]
+    With trotting all the streets to find Pandolfo,
+    And bless him with good news.
+
+    PAN. This haste of Cricca
+    Abodes some good: doubtless my Trincalo,
+    Receiv'd for Antonio, hath given me Flavia.
+    Cricca!
+
+    CRI. Neither in Paul's,[350] at home, nor in the Exchange,
+    Nor where he uses to converse! he's lost,
+    And must be cried.
+
+    PAN. Turn hither, Cricca; Cricca,
+    Seest me not?
+
+    CRI. Sir, the news, and haste to tell it,
+    Had almost blinded me. 'Tis so fortunate,
+    I dare not pour it all at once upon you,
+    Lest you should faint, and swoon away with joy:
+    Your transform'd Trincalo----
+
+    PAN. What news of him?
+
+    CRI. Enter'd as owner in Antonio's house----
+
+    PAN. On.
+
+    CRI. Is acknowledg'd by his daughter Flavia
+    And Lelio for their father.
+
+    PAN. Quickly, good Cricca!
+
+    CRI. And hath sent me in haste to bid you----
+
+    PAN. What?
+
+    CRI. Come with your son Eugenio----
+
+    PAN. And then?
+
+    CRI. That he may be a witness of your marriage.
+    But, sir, I see no signs of so large gladness
+    As I expected and this news deserv'd.
+
+    PAN. 'Tis here, 'tis here, within: all outward symptoms
+    And characters of joy are poor expressions
+    Of my great inward happiness. My heart's full,
+    And cannot vent the passions. Run, Cricca, run:
+    Run, as thou lov'st me; call Eugenio,
+    And work him to my purpose: thou canst do it.
+    Haste, call him instantly.
+
+    CRI. I fly, sir.                                      [_Exit._
+
+
+SCENE III.[351]
+
+PANDOLFO.
+
+    How shall I recompense this astrologer,
+    This great Albumazar, through whose learned hands
+    Fortune hath prov'd[352] th' effect of my best wishes,
+    And crown'd my hopes? Give him this chain?
+        Alas!
+    'Tis a poor thanks, short by a thousand links
+    Of his large merit. No, he must live with me
+    And my sweet Flavia at his ease and pleasure,
+    Wanting for nothing: and this very night
+    I'll get a boy, and he erect a figure
+    To calculate his fortunes. So, there's Trincalo
+    Antoniated, or Antonio Intrinculate.
+
+
+SCENE IV.
+
+ANTONIO, PANDOLFO, LELIO, EUGENIO.
+
+    ANT. Signior Pandolfo! welcome.
+
+    LEL. Your servant, sir.
+
+    PAN. Well-met, Antonio; my prayers and wishes
+    Have waited on you ever.
+
+    ANT. Thanks, dearest friend.
+    To speak my danger pass'd were to discourse
+    Of dead men at a feast. Such sad relations
+    Become not marriages. Sir, I am here
+    Return'd to do you service. Where's your son?
+
+    PAN. He'll wait upon you presently.
+
+    EUG. Signior Antonio!
+    Happily welcome.
+
+    ANT. Thanks, Eugenio.
+    How think you, gentlemen: were it amiss
+    To call down Flavia and Sulpitia,
+    That what we do may with a full consent
+    Be entertain'd of all?
+
+    PAN. 'Tis well-remember'd.
+    Eugenio, call your sister.
+
+    ANT. Lelio, call my daughter.   [_Exeunt_ LELIO _and_ EUGENIO.
+
+
+SCENE V.
+
+PANDOLFO, ANTONIO.
+
+    PAN. Wisely consider'd, Trincalo; 'tis a fair prologue
+    To the comedy ensuing. Now I confess
+    Albumazar had equal power to change
+    And mend thy understanding with thy body.
+    Let me embrace and hug thee for this service:
+    'Tis a brave onset: O my sweet Trincalo!
+
+    ANT. How like you the beginning?
+
+    PAN. 'Tis o' th' further side
+    All expectation.
+
+    ANT. Was't not right, and spoken
+    Like old Antonio?
+
+    PAN.[353] 'Tis most admirable!
+    Were't he himself that spoke, he could not better't.
+    And for thy sake I wish Antonio's shape
+    May ever be thy house, and's wit thy inmate.
+    But where's my plate and cloth of silver?
+
+    ANT. Safe.
+
+    PAN. They come. Keep state, keep state, or all's discover'd.
+
+
+SCENE VI.
+
+ANTONIO, PANDOLFO, EUGENIO, LELIO, FLAVIA, SULPITIA.
+
+    ANT. Eugenio, Flavia, Lelio, and Sulpitia,
+    Marriages, once confirm'd and consummate,
+    Admit of no repentance. Therefore 'tis fitting
+    All parties with full freedom speak their pleasure,
+    Before it be too late.
+
+    PAN. Good! excellent!
+
+    ANT. Speak boldly, therefore. Do you willingly
+    Give full authority, that what I decree
+    Touching these businesses, you'll all perform?
+
+    EUG. I rest as you dispose: what you determine,
+    With my best power I ratify; and Sulpitia,
+    I dare be bold to promise, says no less.
+
+    SUL. Whate'er my father, brother, and yourself
+    Shall think convenient, pleaseth me.
+
+    LEL. In this,
+    As in all other service, I commit myself
+    To your commands; and so, I hope, my sister.
+
+    FLA. With all obedience: sir, dispose of me
+    As of a child that judgeth nothing good,
+    But what you shall approve.
+
+    ANT. And you, Pandolfo?
+
+    PAN. I, most of all. And for you know[354] the minds
+    Of youth are apt to promise, and as prone
+    To repent after, 'tis my advice they swear
+    T' observe, without exception, your decree.
+
+    FLA. Content.
+
+    SUL. Content.
+
+    PAN. By all the powers that hear
+    Oaths, and rain vengeance upon broken faith,
+    I promise to confirm and ratify
+    Your sentence.
+
+    LEL. Sir, I swear no less.
+
+    EUG. Nor I.
+
+    FLA. The selfsame oath binds me.
+
+    SUL. And me the same.
+
+    PAN. Now, dear Antonio, all our expectation
+
+    Hangs at your mouth. None of us can appeal
+    From you to higher courts.
+
+    ANT. First, for preparative
+    Or slight præludium to the greater matches,
+    I must entreat you, that my Armellina
+    Be match'd with Trincalo. Two hundred crowns
+    I give her for her portion.
+
+    PAN. 'Tis done. Some relics
+    Of his old clownery and dregs o' th' country
+    Dwell in him still. How careful he provides
+    For himself first. [_Aside._] Content: and more, I grant him
+    A lease for twenty pounds a year.
+
+    ANT. I thank you.
+    Gentlemen, since I feel myself much broken
+    With age and my late miseries, and too cold
+    To entertain new heat, I freely yield
+    Sulpitia, whom I lov'd, to my son Lelio.
+
+    PAN. How cunningly hath the farmer provided
+    T' observe the 'semblance of Antonio's person,
+    And keep himself still free for Armellina!
+
+    ANT. Signior Pandolfo, y' are wise, and understand
+    How ill hot appetites of unbridled youth
+    Become grey hairs. How grave and honourable
+    Were't for your age to be enamour'd
+    With the fair shape of virtue and the glory
+    Of our forefathers! Then would you blush to think
+    How by this dotage and unequal love
+    You stain their honour and your own. Awake!
+    Banish those wild affections, and by my example
+    Turn t' your reposed self.
+
+    PAN. To what purpose, pray you,
+    Serves this long proem? on to th' sentence.
+
+    ANT. Sir,
+    Conformity of years, likeness of manners,
+    Are Gordian knots that bind up matrimony:
+    Now, betwixt seventy winters and sixteen
+    There's no proportion, nor least hope of love.
+    Fie! that a gentleman of your discretion,
+    Crown'd with such reputation in your youth,
+    Should in your western days[355] lose th' good opinion
+    Of all your friends, and run to th' open danger
+    Of closing the weak remnant of your days
+    With discontentment[356] unrecoverable.
+
+    PAN. Rack me no more; pray you, let's hear the sentence.
+    Note how the ass would fright me, and endear
+    His service: intimating that his pow'r
+    May overthrow my hopes. [_Aside._] Proceed to th' sentence.
+
+    ANT. These things consider'd, I bestow my daughter
+    Upon your son Eugenio, whose constant love,
+    With his so modest carriage, hath deserv'd her;
+    And, that you freeze not for a bed-fellow,
+    I marry you with patience.
+
+    PAN. Treacherous villain!
+    Accursed Trincalo! [_Aside._] I'll---- But this no place;
+    He's too well back'd; but shortly, when the date
+    Of his Antonioship's expir'd, revenge
+    Shall sweeten this disgrace.
+
+    ANT. Signior Pandolfo,
+    When you recover yourself, lost desperately
+    In disproportion'd dotage, then you'll thank me
+    For this great favour. Be not obstinate:
+    Disquiet not yourself.
+
+    PAN. I thank you, sir.             [_Exeunt all but_ PANDOLFO.
+
+
+SCENE VII.
+
+PANDOLFO.
+
+    _And that you freeze not for a bed-fellow,
+    I marry you with patience!_ Traitorous villain!
+    Is't not enough to wrong me and betray me,
+    But 't must be done with scoffs? accursed Trincalo!
+    And me most miserable that, when I thought
+    T' embrace young Flavia, see her before my face
+    Bestow'd upon my son! my son--my rival!
+    This is Eugenio's plot and his friend Lelio's;
+    Who, with my servant Cricca, have conspir'd,
+    And suborn'd Trincalo to betray his master.
+    Why do I rage 'gainst any but myself,
+    That have committed such a serious business
+    To th' hands of a base clown and ignorant?
+    I see mine error, but no means to help it.
+    Only the sweetness of revenge is left me,
+    Which I must execute: th' hours of's gentry
+    Are now clean spent. I'll home, and there attend him.   [_Exit._
+
+
+SCENE VIII.
+
+TRINCALO _drunk, but something recovered_.
+
+TRIN. Welcome, old trusty Trincalo; good farmer, welcome! Give me thy
+hand; we must not part hereafter. Fie, what a trouble 'tis to be out of
+a man's self! If gentlemen have no pleasure but what I felt to-day, a
+team of horses shall not drag me out of my profession. There's nothing
+amongst them but borrowing, compounding for half their debts, and have
+their purse cut for the rest; cozened by whores, frighted with husbands,
+washed in wet hogsheads, cheated of their clothes, and falling in
+cellars for conclusion.
+
+
+SCENE IX.
+
+PANDOLFO _at the window_, TRINCALO.
+
+    PAN. O precious piece of villany! are you unchang'd?
+    How confident the rogue dares walk the streets!
+
+TRIN. And then such quarrelling! never a suit I wore to-day but hath
+been soundly basted: only this faithful country-case 'scaped fist-free;
+and, be it spoken in a good hour, was never beaten yet, since it came
+from fulling.
+
+    PAN. Base, treacherous villain!                  [_Beats him._
+
+    TRIN. Is this the recompense of my day's work?
+
+    PAN. You marry me to patience! there's patience,
+    And that you freeze not, there's warm patience,
+    She's a good bed-fellow: have patience.
+
+    TRIN. You'll beat me out on't, sir. How have
+    I wrong'd you?
+
+    PAN. So as deserves th' expression of my fury,
+    With th' cruel'st tortures I can execute.
+
+    TRIN. You kill me, sir.
+
+    PAN. Have patience.
+
+    TRIN. Pray you, sir!
+
+    PAN. Seek not by humble penitence t' appease me:
+    Nothing can satisfy.
+
+    TRIN. Farewell, humility;
+    Now am I beaten sober.       [_Takes away_ PANDOLFO's _staff_.
+    Shall age and weakness master my youth and strength?
+    Now speak your pleasure: what's my fault?
+
+    PAN. Dar'st deny
+    Thy own act, done before so many witnesses,
+    Suborn'd by others, and betray my confidence
+    With such a stony impudence?
+
+    TRIN. I have been faithful
+    In all you trusted me.
+
+    PAN. To them, not me.
+    O, what a proem, stuff'd with grave advice
+    And learned counsel, you could show'r upon me
+    Before the thunder of your deadly sentence!
+    And give away my mistress with a scoff!
+
+    TRIN. I give your mistress?
+
+    PAN. Didst not thou decree,
+    Contrary t' our compact, against my marriage?
+
+    TRIN. Why, when was I your judge?
+
+    PAN. Just now here.
+
+    TRIN. See your error!
+    Then was I fast lock'd in Antonio's cellar:
+    Where, making virtue of necessity,
+    I drank stark drunk, and waking, found myself
+    Cloth'd in this farmer's suit, as in the morning.
+
+    PAN. Didst not thou swear to enter Antonio's house,
+    And give me Flavia for my wife, and after,
+    Before my own face, gav'st her to my son?
+
+    TRIN. Ha, ha, ha!
+              [_Whilst_ TRINCALO _laughs and lets fall the staff_,
+                PANDOLFO _recovers it, and beats him_.
+
+    PAN. Canst thou deny it?
+
+    TRIN. Ha, ha, ha!
+    Have you got Mistress Patience? Ha, ha, ha!
+
+    PAN. Is not this true?
+
+    TRIN. Ha, ha, ha!
+
+    PAN. Answer me.
+
+    TRIN. Ha, ha, ha wan!
+
+    PAN. Was't not thus?
+
+    TRIN. I answer: first,
+    I never was transform'd,
+    But gull'd, as you were, by th' astrologer,
+    And those that called me Antonio. To prove
+    This true, the gentleman you spoke with was Antonio--
+    The right Antonio, safely return'd from Barbary.
+
+    PAN. O me, what's this?
+
+    TRIN. Truth itself.
+
+    PAN. Was't not thou that gav'st the sentence?
+
+    TRIN. Believe me, no such matter:
+    I ne'er was gentleman, nor otherwise
+    Than what I am, unless 'twere when I was drunk.
+
+    PAN. How have I been deceiv'd! good Trincalo,
+    Pardon me, I have wrong'd thee.
+
+    TRIN. Pardon you?
+    When you have beaten me to paste, _Good Trincalo,
+    Pardon me!_
+
+    PAN. I am sorry for't; excuse me.
+
+    TRIN. I am sorry I can't[357] excuse you. But I pardon you.
+
+    PAN. Now tell me, where's the plate and cloth of silver,
+    The gold and jewels, that the astrologer
+    Committed to thy keeping?
+
+    TRIN. What plate, what jewels?
+    He gave me none. But, when he went to change me,
+    After a thousand circles and ceremonies,
+    He binds me fast upon a form, and blinds me
+    With a thick table-napkin. Not long after
+    Unbinds my head and feet, and gives me light;
+    And then I plainly saw that I saw nothing:
+    The parlour was clean swept of all was in't.
+
+    PAN. O me! O me!
+
+    TRIN. What ails you, sir? what ails you?
+
+    PAN. I am undone! I have lost my love, my plate,
+    My whole estate, and with the rest myself.
+
+    TRIN. Lose not your patience too. Leave this lamenting,
+    And lay the town; you may recover it.
+
+    PAN. 'Tis to small purpose. In, and hold thy peace.
+                                                 [_Exit_ TRINCALO.
+
+
+SCENE X.
+
+CRICCA, PANDOLFO.
+
+    CRI. Where shall I find my master, to content him
+    With welcome news? he's here. News, news?
+    News of good fortune, joy, and happiness!
+
+    PAN. Cricca, my sadness is uncapable
+    Of better tidings: I am undone! most miserable!
+
+    CRI. Offend not your good luck, y' are now more fortunate
+    Than when you rose this morning: be merry, sir,
+    Cheer up yourself; y' have what you wish'd, fear nothing.
+
+    PAN. Maybe, Antonio newly repents himself,
+    With purpose to restore my Flavia.
+    Cricca, what is't? where's all this happiness?
+
+    CRI. Lock'd in Antonio's closet.
+
+    PAN. All alone?
+    Sure, that's my Flavia. Is not Eugenio
+    Suffer'd to enter?
+
+    CRI. Antonio keeps the key:
+    No creature enters but himself: all's safe,
+    And shall be so restor'd.
+
+    PAN. O my sweet Cricca!
+
+    CRI. And they that wrong'd you most extremely sorry,
+    Ready to yield you any satisfaction.
+
+    PAN. Is't possible they should so soon repent them,
+    That injur'd me so lately? tell me the manner
+    That caus'd them see their error.
+
+    CRI. I'll tell you, sir:
+    Being just now at old Antonio's house,
+    One thunders at the back-door, enters, presses
+    To speak in private with young Lelio;
+    Was instantly admitted: and think you, who?
+    'Twas your astrologer Albumazar.
+    When he had spoke awhile, Lelio and Antonio
+    In haste command me fetch a constable.
+
+    PAN. How can this story touch my happiness?
+
+    CRI. I up and down, through slimy ale-houses,
+    Cloudy tobacco-shops and vapouring taverns,
+    My mouth full of inquiry, at last found one.
+
+    PAN. What of all this? Is't possible a constable
+    Concerns my good?
+
+    CRI. And, following my directions,
+    Went to a tippling-house, where we took drinking
+    Three handsome fellows with a great chest, attach'd them,
+    And brought all to Antonio.
+
+    PAN. Well, what then?
+
+    CRI. These were the astrologer's intelligences that
+    Robb'd you through the south window.
+
+    PAN. I thought thou hadst spoke
+    Of Flavia's restoring.
+
+    CRI. I mean your plate
+    And treasure. Pray you, sir, is't not great happiness
+    To reobtain three thousand pounds in value,
+    Desperately lost? and you still doat and dream
+    Of Flavia who, by your own consent
+    And oath, is promised to your son Eugenio.
+
+    PAN. Forward.
+
+    CRI. Within this chest Antonio found your plate,
+    Gold jewels, cloth of silver, nothing perish'd,
+    But all safe lock'd, till you acknowledge it.
+    And since Albumazar of his own accord
+    Freely confess'd, and safe restor'd your treasure;
+    Since 'tis a day of jubilee and marriage,
+    Antonio would entreat you to release
+    And pardon the astrologer: thanking your fortune,
+    That hath restor'd you to your wealth and self.
+    Both which were lost i' th' foolish love of Flavia.
+
+    PAN. Reason hath clear'd my sight, and drawn the veil,
+    Of dotage, that so dark'd my understanding.
+    I clearly see the slavery of affections;
+    And how unsuitable my declining years
+    Are for the dawning youth of Flavia.
+    Let the best joys of Hymen compass her
+    And her young husband (my Eugenio),
+    With full content. And since Albumazar
+    By accident caus'd all this happiness,
+    I freely pardon him and his companions;
+    And haste to assist the marriages and feasts.
+
+    CRI. Why, now you show yourself a worthy gentleman.
+                                                 [_Exit_ PANDOLFO.
+
+
+SCENE XI.
+
+TRINCALO, CRICCA.
+
+    TRI. Cricca, I overheard your news: all parts are pleas'd
+    Except myself. Is there no news for Trincalo?
+
+    CRI. Know'st it not? in and see: Antonio
+    Hath given thee Armellina with a portion--
+    Two hundred crowns; and old Pandolfo bound
+    By oath t' assure thee twenty pounds a year
+    For three lives.
+
+    TRIN. Ha!
+
+    CRI. Come in.
+
+    TRIN. I'll follow.
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+  [346] The salt-cellar which used to be set on tables was generally
+  large. Sometimes, however, a smaller sort would be used, and then
+  several were employed, which were set nearer the trenchers, and
+  therefore called _trencher-salts_, as here.--_Pegge._
+
+  [347] [Compare p. 302.]
+
+  [348] A term of falconry. Latham says, "It is taken for the fowle
+  which is flowne at and slaine at any time."
+
+  [349] This is a term of the chase. Gascoigne, in his book of hunting,
+  1575, p. 242, enumerates it among "other generall termes of the hart
+  and his properties. When he (the hart) is foamy at the mouth, we saye
+  that _he is embost_." So in "The Shoemakers' Holiday; or, The Gentle
+  Craft," 1610, sig. C 3--
+
+      "Besides, the miller's boy told me even now,
+      He saw him take soile, and he hallowed him,
+      Affirming him so _embost_,
+      That long he could not hold."
+
+  See also Mr Steevens's note to "All's Well that Ends Well," act iii.
+  sc. 6.
+
+  [350] St Paul's, at this time, was constantly open, and the resort
+  equally of the busy and the idle. A contemporary writer thus describes
+  _Paul's Walke:_ It "is the land's epitome, or you may call it the
+  lesser ile of Great Brittaine. It is more than this, the whole world's
+  map, which you may here discerne in it's perfect'st motion, justling
+  and turning. It is a heape of stones and men, with a vast confusion of
+  languages; and, were the steeple not sanctified, nothing liker Babel.
+  The noyse in it is like that of bees, a strange humming or buzze, mixt
+  of walking, tongues, and feet. It is a kind of still roare, or loud
+  whisper. It is the great exchange of all discourse, and no busines
+  whatsoever but is here stirring and afoot. It is the synod of all
+  pates politicke, joynted and laid together in the most serious
+  posture; and they are not halfe so busie at the Parliament. It is the
+  anticke of tailes to tailes, and backes to backes, and for vizards,
+  you need goe no further than faces. It is the market of young
+  lecturers, whom you may cheapen here at all rates and sizes. It is the
+  generall mint of all famous lies, which are here, like the legends
+  popery first coyned and stampt in the church. All inventions are
+  emptyed here, and not few pockets. The best signe of a temple in it
+  is, that it is the theeves sanctuary, which robbe more safely in the
+  croud then a wildernesse, whilst every searcher is a bush to hide
+  them. It is the other expence of the day, after playes, taverne, and a
+  baudy house, and men have still some oathes left to sweare here. It is
+  the eares brothell, and satisfies their lust and ytch. The visitants
+  are all men, without exceptions; but the principall inhabitants and
+  possessors are stale knights, and captaines out of service; men of
+  long rapiers and breeches, which after all turne merchants here, and
+  trafficke for newes. Some make it a preface to their dinner, and
+  travell for a stomacke: but thriftier men make it their ordinarie, and
+  boord here verie cheape. Of all such places it is least haunted with
+  hobgoblins, for if a ghost would walke more, he could not."--_Earle's
+  "Microcosmographie_," 1628.
+
+  [351] The division of this scene is not marked in the old copies, but
+  it is decidedly right, and the numbers of the scenes in the quartos
+  are from two to four, omitting three.--_Collier._
+
+  [352] [Old copy, _powr'd._]
+
+  [353] Pandolfo's name is omitted in the quartos before the following
+  lines, which are certainly meant to be spoken by him.--_Collier._
+
+  [354] _i.e._, Because you know--a very common mode of expression.
+
+  [355] _i.e._, When you are declining like the sun, which sets in the
+  west.--_Steevens._
+
+  [356] The instances are very numerous throughout this play where Mr
+  Dodsley, and after him Mr Reed, omitted syllables, and thereby spoiled
+  the measure: thus this line ran till now--
+
+      "With discontent unrecoverable,"
+
+  instead, of _discontentment_.
+
+  [357] Old copy, _must_.
+
+
+
+
+EPILOGUE
+
+
+[_Spoken by Trincalo_].
+
+    Two hundred crowns? and twenty pound a year
+    For three good lives? Cargo[358] hai, Trincalo!
+    My wife's extremely busy, dressing the supper
+    For these great marriages, and I not idle,
+    So that I cannot entertain you here,
+    As I would elsewhere. But if you come to Totnam
+    Some four days hence, and ask for Trincalo,
+    At th' sign o' th' Hogshead, I'll mortgage all my lives
+    To bid you welcome. You that love Trincalo,
+    And mean to meet, clap hands, and make 't a bargain.[359]
+
+  [358] A corruption of _corragio!_ Ital. courage! a hortatory
+  exclamation.--_Steevens._
+
+  A cant word, meaning a good round sum of money. "Canting Dictionary,"
+  _in voce_.--_Pegge._
+
+  [359] Thus in "A Woman Kill'd with Kindness," 1607, the first scene we
+  have, on a wager being laid--
+
+          "What, _clap ye hands_,
+      Or is't no bargain?"
+
+  --_Collier._
+
+
+
+
+THE HOG HATH LOST HIS PEARL.
+
+
+
+
+_EDITION._
+
+
+    _The Hogge hath lost his Pearle. A Comedy. Divers times
+    Publicely acted, by certaine London Prentices. By Robert Tailor.
+    London, Printed for Richard Redmer, and are to be solde at the
+    West-dore of Paules at the of the Starre._ 1614. 4º.
+
+
+
+
+INTRODUCTION.
+
+
+Robert Tailor, the author of this play, is entirely unknown[360]. The
+title-page of it says it was divers times publicly acted by certain
+London Prentices; and Sir Henry Wotton[361], in a letter to Sir Edmund
+Bacon, dated 1612-13, gives the following account of its first
+performance: "On Sunday last at night, and no longer, some sixteen
+Apprentices (of what sort you shall guess by the rest of the Story),
+having secretly learnt a new play without book, intituled, _The Hog hath
+lost His Pearl;_ took up the _White Fryers_ for their Theater: and
+having invited thither (as it should seem) rather their Mistresses than
+their Masters, who were all to enter _per buletini_ for a note of
+distinction from ordinary Comedians. Towards the end of the Play, the
+sheriffs (who by chance had heard of it) came in (as they say) and
+carried some six or seven of them to perform the last Act at _Bridewel;_
+the rest are fled. Now it is strange to hear how sharp-witted the City
+is, for they will needs have Sir _John Swinerton_, the Lord Major, be
+meant by the _Hog_, and the late Lord Treasurer by the _Pearl_." [362]
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+  [360] In addition to this play, Robert Tailor was author of "Sacred
+  Hymns," 4º, 1615.--_Gilchrist._ [No. This was a different person. But
+  the author of the present play has some complimentary lines before
+  Taylor the Water-poet's "Whipping and Snipping of Abuses," 1614.]
+
+  [361] "Reliquiæ Wottonianæ," fourth edit., 1685, p. 402.
+
+  [362] [A story perhaps originating in Swinnerton's name.
+
+  W. Smith dedicates his "Hector of Germaine; or, The Palsgrave Prince
+  Elector," 1615, "To the right worshipfull the great Favourer of the
+  Muses, Syr John Swinnerton, Knight, sometimes Lord Mayor of this
+  honourable Cittie of London." He adds that the play was expressly
+  written for citizens.--_Collier._
+
+
+
+
+THE ACTORS' NAMES.
+
+
+    OLD LORD WEALTHY.
+    YOUNG LORD, _his son_.
+    MARIA, _his daughter_.
+    CARRACUS, }
+                       } _two gentlemen, near friends_.
+    ALBERT,   }
+    LIGHTFOOT, _a country gentleman_.
+    HADDIT, _a youthful gallant_.
+    HOG, _an usurer_.
+    REBECCA, _his daughter_.
+    PETER SERVITUDE, _his man_.
+    ATLAS, _a porter_.
+    _A Priest._
+    _A Player._
+    _A Serving-man._
+    _A Nurse._
+
+
+
+
+PROLOGUE
+
+
+    Our long-time-rumour'd Hog, so often cross'd
+    By unexpected accidents, and toss'd
+    From one house to another: still deceiving
+    Many men's expectations, and bequeathing
+    To some lost labour: is at length got loose,
+    Leaving his servile yoke-stick to the goose;
+    Hath a knight's license, and may range at pleasure,
+    Spite of all those that envy our Hog's treasure.
+    And thus much let me tell you, that our swine
+    Is not, as divers critics did define,
+    Grunting at state-affairs, or invecting
+    Much at our city vices; no, nor detecting
+    The pride or fraud in it; but, were it now
+    He had his first birth, wit should teach him how
+    To tax these times' abuses, and tell some
+    How ill they did in running oft from home;
+    For to prevent (O men more hard than flint!)
+    A matter, that shall laugh at them in print.
+    Once to proceed in this play we were mindless,
+    Thinking we liv'd 'mongst Jews, that lov'd no swine's flesh:
+    But now that trouble's past, if it deserve a hiss
+    (As questionless it will through our amiss),
+    Let it be favour'd by your gentle sufferance:
+    Wise men are still indu'd with patience:
+    We are not half so skill'd as strolling players,
+    Who could not please here, as at country fairs:
+    We may be pelted off, for aught we know,
+    With apples, eggs, or stones, from thence below;
+    In which we'll crave your friendship, if we may,
+    And you shall have a dance worth all the play:
+    And if it prove so happy as to please,
+    We'll say 'tis fortunate, like Pericles.[363]
+
+  [363] _i.e._, The play of that name attributed to Shakespeare.
+  Perhaps a sneer was designed. To say that a dramatic piece was
+  _fortunate_, is not to say that it was _deserving;_ and why of all the
+  pieces supposed to be written by our great author was this
+  particularised?--_Steevens._
+
+  There is good reason to dispute this interpretation of the word
+  _fortunate_, but Mr Steevens seems to have discovered many sneers at
+  Shakespeare that were never intended. Mr Malone, quoting the two last
+  lines from the above prologue, observes: "By _fortunate_ I understand
+  _highly successful_," and he is warranted in this understanding by the
+  following passage directly in point, which he might have quoted from
+  lines prefixed by Richard Woolfall to Lewis Sharpe's "Noble Stranger,"
+  1640--
+
+                "Yet do not feare the danger
+      Of critick readers, since thy 'Noble Stranger,'
+      With pleasing strains has smooth'd the rugged fate
+      Of oft cram'd Theatres, and prov'd _fortunate_."
+
+  --_Collier._
+
+  Malone, after quoting a passage from "Pymlico or Runne Red-cap," 1609,
+  disputes the notion that a sneer at "Pericles" was intended by Tailor.
+  It appears that "Pericles" drew crowds, and that it was as successful
+  as a play called "Shore." See Malone's Shakespeare, xxi. p. 4, edit.
+  1821.--_Idem_ (_additional notes to Dodsley_).
+
+
+
+
+THE HOG HATH LOST HIS PEARL.
+
+
+
+
+ACTUS PRIMI, SCENA PRIMA.
+
+
+_Enter_ LIGHTFOOT, _a country gentleman, passing over the stage, and
+knocks at the other door_.
+
+LIGHT. Ho! who's within here?
+
+_Enter_ ATLAS, _a porter_.
+
+ATLAS. Ha' ye any money to pay, you knock with such authority, sir?
+
+LIGHT. What if I have not? may not a man knock without money, sir?
+
+ATLAS. Seldom; women and servants will not put it up so, sir.
+
+LIGHT. How say you by that, sir? but, I prythee, is not this one Atlas's
+house, a porter?
+
+ATLAS. I am the rent-payer thereof.
+
+LIGHT. In good time, sir.
+
+ATLAS. Not in good time neither, sir, for I am behind with my landlord a
+year and three-quarters at least.
+
+LIGHT. Now, if a man would give but observance to this fellow's prating,
+he would weary his ears sooner than a barber. Do y' hear, sir? lies
+there not one Haddit, a gentleman, at this house?
+
+ATLAS. Here lies such a gentleman, sir, whose clothes (were they not
+greasy) would bespeak him so.
+
+LIGHT. Then I pray, sir, when your leisure shall permit, that you would
+vouchsafe to help me to the speech of him.
+
+ATLAS. We must first crave your oath, sir, that you come not with intent
+to molest, perturb, or endanger him; for he is a gentleman, whom it hath
+pleased fortune to make her tennis-ball of, and therefore subject to be
+struck by every fool into hazard.
+
+LIGHT. In that I commend thy care of him, for which friendship here's a
+slight reward; tell him a countryman of his, one Lightfoot, is here,
+and[364] [he] will not any way despair of his safety.
+
+ATLAS. With all respect, sir; pray, command my house. [_Exit_ ATLAS.
+
+LIGHT. So now I shall have a sight of my cousin gallant: he that hath
+consumed £800 a year in as few years as he hath ears on his head: he
+that was wont never to be found without three or four pair of red
+breeches running before his horse or coach: he that at a meal hath had
+more several kinds than, I think, the ark contained: he that was admired
+by niters[365] for his robes of gallantry, and was indeed all that an
+elder brother might be--prodigal; yet he, whose unthriftiness kept many
+a house, is now glad to keep house in a house that keeps him, the poor
+tenant of a porter. And see his appearance! I'll seem strange to him.
+
+_Enter_ HADDIT, _in poor array_.
+
+HAD. Cousin Lightfoot, how dost? welcome to the city.
+
+LIGHT. Who calls me cousin? where's my cousin Haddit? he's surely
+putting on some rich apparel for me to see him in. I ha' been thinking
+all the way I came up, how much his company will credit me.
+
+HAD. My name is Haddit, sir, and your kinsman, if parents may be
+trusted; and therefore you may please to know me better when you see me
+next.
+
+LIGHT. I prythee, fellow, stay: is it possible thou shouldst be he? why,
+he was the generous spark of men's admiration.
+
+    HAD. I am that spark, sir, though now raked up in ashes;
+    Yet when it pleaseth fortune's chaps to blow
+    Some gentler gale upon me, I may then
+    From forth of embers rise and shine again.
+
+LIGHT. O, by your versifying I know you now, sir: how dost? I knew thee
+not at first, thou'rt very much altered.
+
+HAD. Faith, and so I am, exceeding much since you saw me last--about
+£800 a year; but let it pass, for passage[366] carried away the most
+part of it: a plague of fortune.
+
+LIGHT. Thou'st more need to pray to Fortune than curse her: she may be
+kind to thee when thou art penitent: but that, I fear, will be never.
+
+HAD. O, no, if she be a woman, she'll ever love those that hate her.
+But, cousin, thou art thy father's firstborn; help me but to some means,
+and I'll redeem my mortgag'd lands, with a wench to boot.
+
+LIGHT. As how, I pray thee?
+
+HAD. Marry thus: Hog the usurer hath one only daughter.
+
+LIGHT. Is his name Hog? It fits him exceeding well; for as a hog in his
+lifetime is always devouring, and never commodious in aught till his
+death; even so is he, whose goods at that time may be put to many good
+uses.
+
+HAD. And so I hope they shall before his death. This daughter of his
+did, and I think doth, love me; but I, then thinking myself worthy of an
+empress, gave but slight respect unto her favour, for that her parentage
+seemed not to equal my high thoughts, puffed up----
+
+LIGHT. With tobacco, surely.
+
+HAD. No; but with as bad a weed--vainglory.
+
+LIGHT. And you could now be content to put your lofty spirits into the
+lowest pit of her favour. Why, what means will serve, man? 'Sfoot, if
+all I have will repair thy fortune, it shall fly at thy command.
+
+HAD. Thanks, good coz, the means shall not be great, only that I may
+first be clad in a generous outside, for that is the chief attraction
+that draws female affection. Good parts, without habiliments of
+gallantry, are no more set by in these times than a good leg in a
+woollen stocking. No, 'tis a glistering presence and audacity brings
+women into fool's felicity.
+
+LIGHT. You've a good confidence, coz; but what do ye think your brave
+outside shall effect?
+
+HAD. That being had, we'll to the usurer, where you shall offer some
+slight piece of land to mortgage, and if you do it to bring ourselves
+into cash, it shall be ne'er the farther from you, for here's a project
+will not be frustrate of this purpose.
+
+LIGHT. That shall be shortly tried. I'll instantly go seek for a habit
+for thee, and that of the richest too; that which shall not be subject
+to the scoff of any gallant, though to the accomplishing thereof all my
+means go. Alas! what's a man unless he wear good clothes?
+
+                                                [_Exit_ LIGHTFOOT.
+
+HAD. Good speed attend my suit! Here's a never-seen nephew kind in
+distress; this gives me more cause of admiration than the loss of
+thirty-five settings together at passage. Ay, when 'tis performed--but
+words and deeds are now more different than puritans and players.
+
+_Enter_ ATLAS.
+
+ATLAS. Here's the player would speak with you.
+
+HAD. About the jig I promised him. My pen and ink! I prythee, let him
+in, there may be some cash rhymed out of him.
+
+_Enter_ PLAYER.
+
+PLAYER. The Muses assist you, sir: what, at your study so early?
+
+HAD. O, chiefly now, sir: for _Aurora Musis amica_.
+
+PLAYER. Indeed, I understand not Latin, sir.
+
+HAD. You must then pardon me, good Master Change-coat; for I protest
+unto you, it is so much my often converse that, if there be none but
+women in my company, yet cannot I forbear it.
+
+PLAYER. That shows your more learning, sir; but, I pray you, is that
+small matter done I entreated for?
+
+HAD. A small matter! you'll find it worth Meg of Westminster,[367]
+although it be but a bare jig.
+
+PLAYER. O Lord, sir, I would it had but half the taste of garlic.[368]
+
+HAD. Garlic stinks to this; if it prove that you have not more whores
+than e'er garlic had, say I am a boaster of my own works, disgrace me on
+the open stage, and bob me off with ne'er a penny.
+
+PLAYER. O Lord, sir, far be it from us to debar any worthy writer of his
+merit; but I pray you, sir, what is the title you bestow upon it?
+
+HAD. Marry, that which is full as forcible as garlic: the name of it is,
+_Who buys my four ropes of hard onions?_ by which four ropes is meant,
+four several kind of livers; by the onions, hangers-on--as at some
+convenient time I will more particularly inform you in so rare a hidden
+and obscure mystery.
+
+PLAYER. I pray, let me see the beginning of it. I hope you have made no
+dark sentence in't; for, I'll assure you, our audience commonly are very
+simple, idle-headed[369] people, and if they should hear what they
+understand not, they would quite forsake our house.
+
+HAD. O, ne'er fear it; for what I have writ is both witty to the wise,
+and pleasing to the ignorant: for you shall have those laugh at it far
+more heartily that understand it not, than those that do.
+
+PLAYER. Methinks the end of this stave is a foot too long.
+
+HAD. O no, sing it but in tune, and I dare warrant you.
+
+    PLAYER. Why, hear ye.                             [_He sings._
+    _And you that delight in trulls and minions,
+    Come buy my four ropes of hard St Thomas's onions_.[370]
+
+Look ye there, _St Thomas_ might very well have been left out; besides,
+_hard_ should have come next the _onions_.
+
+HAD. Fie! no; the dismembering of a rhyme to bring in reason shows the
+more efficacy in the writer.
+
+PLAYER. Well, as you please; I pray you, sir, what will the gratuity be?
+I would content you as near hand as I could.
+
+HAD. So I believe. [_Aside._] Why, Master Change-coat, I do not suppose
+we shall differ many pounds; pray, make your offer: if you give me too
+much, I will, most doctor-of-physic-like, restore.
+
+PLAYER. You say well; look you, sir, there's a brace of angels, besides
+much drink of free-cost, if it be liked.
+
+HAD. How, Master Change-coat! a brace of angels, besides much drink of
+free-cost, if it be liked! I fear you have learned it by heart; if you
+have powdered up my plot in your sconce, you may home, sir, and instruct
+your poet over a pot of ale the whole method on't. But if you do so
+juggle, look to't. Shrove-Tuesday[371] is at hand, and I have some
+acquaintance with bricklayers and plasterers.
+
+PLAYER. Nay, I pray, sir, be not angry; for as I am a true
+stage-trotter, I mean honestly; and look ye, more for your love than
+otherwise, I give you a brace more.
+
+HAD. Well, good words do much; I cannot now be angry with you, but see
+henceforward you do like him that would please a new-married wife, show
+your most at first, lest some other come between you and your desires;
+for I protest, had you not suddenly shown your good-nature, another
+should have had it, though it had been for nothing.
+
+PLAYER. Troth, I'm sorry I gave you such cause of impatiency; but you
+shall see hereafter, if your invention take, I will not stand off for a
+brace more or less, desiring I may see your works before another.
+
+HAD. Nay, before all others; and shortly expect a notable piece of
+matter, such a jig whose tune, with the natural whistle of a carman,
+shall be more ravishing to the ears of shopkeepers than a whole consort
+of barbers at midnight.
+
+PLAYER. I am your man for't; I pray you, command all the kindness
+belongs to my function, as a box for your friend at a new play, although
+I procure the hate of all my company.
+
+HAD. No, I'll pay for it rather; that may breed a mutiny in your whole
+house.
+
+PLAYER. I care not, I ha' played a king's part any time these ten years;
+and if I cannot command such a matter, 'twere poor, faith.
+
+HAD. Well, Master Change-coat, you shall now leave me, for I'll to my
+study; the morning hours are precious, and my Muse meditates most upon
+an empty stomach.
+
+PLAYER. I pray, sir, when this new invention is produced, let me not be
+forgotten.
+
+HAD. I'll sooner forget to be a jig-maker. [_Exit_ PLAYER.] So, here's
+four angels I little dreamt of. Nay, and there be money to be gotten by
+foolery, I hope fortune will not see me want. Atlas, Atlas!
+
+_Enter_ ATLAS.
+
+What, was my country coz here since?
+
+ATLAS. Why, did he promise to come again, seeing how the case stood wi'
+ye?
+
+HAD. Yea, and to advance my downfallen fortunes, Atlas.
+
+ATLAS. But ye are not sure he meant it ye, when he spake it.
+
+HAD. No, nor is it in man to conjecture rightly the thought by the
+tongue.
+
+ATLAS. Why, then, I'll believe it when I see it. If you had been in
+prosperity when he had promised you this kindness----
+
+HAD. I had not needed it.
+
+ATLAS. But being now you do, I fear you must go without it.
+
+HAD. If I do, Atlas, be it so: I'll e'en go write this rhyme over my
+bed's head--
+
+    _Undone by folly; fortune, lend me more.
+    Canst thou, and wilt not? pox on such a whore!_
+
+and so I'll set up my rest. But see, Atlas, here's a little of that that
+damns lawyers; take it in part of a further recompense.
+
+ATLAS. No, pray keep it; I am conceited of your better fortunes, and
+therefore will stay out that expectation.
+
+HAD. Why, if you will, you may; but the surmounting of my fortunes is as
+much to be doubted as he whose estate lies in the lottery--desperate.
+
+ATLAS. But ne'er despair. 'Sfoot, why should not you live as well as a
+thousand others that wear change of taffata, whose means were never
+anything?
+
+HAD. Yes, cheating, theft and panderising, or, maybe, flattery: I have
+maintained some of them myself. But come, hast aught to breakfast?
+
+ATLAS. Yes, there's the fag-end of a leg of mutton.
+
+HAD. There cannot be a sweeter dish; it has cost money the dressing.
+
+    ATLAS. At the barber's, you mean.                   [_Exeunt._
+
+_Enter_ ALBERT _solus_.
+
+    ALB. This is the green, and this the chamber-window:
+    And see, the appointed light stands in the casement,
+    The ladder of ropes set orderly; yet he
+    That should ascend, slow in his haste, is not
+    As yet come hither.
+    Were't any friend that lives but Carracus,
+    I'd try the bliss which this fine time presents.
+    Appoint to carry hence so rare an heir,
+    And be so slack! 'sfoot, it doth move my patience.
+    Would any man, that is not void of sense,
+    Not have watch'd night by night for such a prize?
+    Her beauty's so attractive that, by heav'n,
+    My heart half grants to do my friend a wrong.
+    Forego these thoughts; for,[372] Albert, be not slave
+    To thy affection; do not falsify
+    Thy faith to him, whose only friendship's worth
+    A world of women. He is such a one,
+    Thou canst not live without his good:
+    A' is and was ever as thine own heart's blood.
+                               [MARIA _beckons him in the window_.
+    'Sfoot, see, she beckons me for Carracus:
+    Shall my base purity cause me neglect
+    This present happiness? I will obtain it,
+    Spite of my timorous conscience. I am in person,
+    Habit, and all so like to Carracus,
+    It may be acted, and ne'er call'd in question.
+
+    MARIA _calls_. Hist! Carracus, ascend:
+    All is as clear as in our hearts we wish'd.
+
+    ALB. Nay, if I go not now, I might be gelded, i' faith!
+            [ALBERT _ascends; and, being on the top of the ladder,
+             puts out the candle_.
+
+    MAR. O love, why do you so?
+
+    ALB. I heard the steps of some coming this way.
+    Did you not hear Albert pass by as yet?
+
+    MAR. [No;] nor any creature pass this way this hour.
+
+    ALB. Then he intends, just at the break of day,
+    To lend his trusty help to our departure.
+    'Tis yet two hours' time thither, till when, let's rest.
+    For that our speedy flight will not yield any.
+
+    MAR. But I fear,
+    We, possessing of each other's presence,
+    Shall overslip the time. Will your friend call?
+
+    ALB. Just at the instant: fear not of his care.
+
+    MAR. Come then, dear Carracus, thou now shalt rest
+    Upon that bed, where fancy oft hath thought thee;
+    Which kindness until now I ne'er did grant thee,
+    Nor would I now, but that thy loyal faith
+    I have so often tried; even now
+    Seeing thee come to that most honour'd end,
+    Through all the dangers which black night presents,
+    For to convey me hence and marry me.
+
+    ALB. If I do not do so, then hate me ever.
+
+    MAR. I do believe thee, and will hate thee never.   [_Exeunt._
+
+_Enter_ CARRACUS.
+
+    How pleasing are the steps we lovers make,
+    When in the paths of our content we pace,
+    To meet our longings! What happiness it is
+    For man to love! But O, what greater bliss
+    To love and be belov'd! O, what one virtue
+    E'er reign'd in me, that I should be enrich'd
+    With all earth's good at once! I have a friend,
+    Selected by the heavens as a gift
+    To make me happy, whilst I live on earth:
+    A man so rare of goodness, firm of faith,
+    That earth's content must vanish in his death.
+    Then for my love and mistress of my soul,
+    A maid of rich endowments, beautifi'd[373]
+    With all the virtues nature could bestow
+    Upon mortality, who this happy night
+    Will make me gainer of her heav'nly self.
+    And see, how suddenly I have attain'd
+    To the abode of my desired wishes!
+    This is the green; how dark the night appears!
+    I cannot hear the tread of my true friend.
+    Albert! hist, Albert!--he's not come as yet,
+    Nor is th' appointed light set in the window.
+    What, if I call Maria? it may be
+    She fear'd to set a light, and only hark'neth
+    To hear my steps; and yet I dare not call,
+    Lest I betray myself, and that my voice,
+    Thinking to enter in the ears of her,
+    Be of some other heard: no, I will stay,
+    Until the coming of my dear friend Albert.
+    But now think, Carracus, what the end will be
+    Of this thou dost determine: thou art come
+    Hither to rob a father of that wealth,
+    That solely lengthens his now drooping years,
+    His virtuous daughter, and all of that sex left,
+    To make him happy in his aged days:
+    The loss of her may cause him to despair,
+    Transport his near-decaying sense to frenzy,
+    Or to some such abhorred inconveniency,
+    Whereto frail age is subject. I do too ill in this,
+    And must not think, but that a father's plaint
+    Will move the heavens to pour forth misery
+    Upon the head of disobediency.
+    Yet reason tells us, parents are o'erseen,
+    When with too strict a rein they do hold in
+    Their child's affections, and control that love,
+    Which the high pow'rs divine inspire them with,
+    When in their shallowest judgments they may know,
+    Affection cross'd brings misery and woe.
+    But whilst I run contemplating on this,
+    I softly pace to my desired bliss.
+    I'll go into the next field, where my friend
+    Told me the horses were in readiness.                 [_Exit._
+
+    ALBERT _descending from_ MARIA.
+
+    MARIA. But do not stay. What, if you find not Albert?
+
+    ALB. I'll then return alone to fetch you hence.
+
+    MARIA. If you should now deceive me, having gain'd
+    What you men seek for----
+
+    ALB. Sooner I'll deceive
+    My soul--and so, I fear, I have.                     [_Aside._
+
+    MARIA. At your first call, I will descend.
+
+    ALB. Till when this touch of lips be the true pledge
+    Of Carracus' constant true devoted love.
+
+    MARIA. Be sure you stay not long; farewell;
+    I cannot lend an ear to hear you part.          [_Exit_ MARIA.
+
+    ALB. But you did lend a hand unto my entrance. [_He descends._
+    How have I wrong'd my friend, my faithful friend!
+    Robb'd him of what's more precious than his blood,
+    His earthly heaven, the unspotted honour
+    Of his soul-joying mistress! the fruition of whose bed
+    I yet am warm of; whilst dear Carracus
+    Wanders this cold night through th' unshelt'ring field,
+    Seeking me, treacherous man; yet no man neither,
+    Though in an outward show of such appearance,
+    But am a devil indeed; for so this deed
+    Of wronged love and friendship rightly makes me.
+    I may compare my friend to one that's sick,
+    Who, lying on his deathbed, calls to him
+    His dearest-thought friend, and bids him go
+    To some rare-gifted man, that can restore
+    His former health: this his friend sadly hears,
+    And vows with protestations to fulfil
+    His wish'd desires with his best performance;
+    But then, no sooner seeing that the death
+    Of his sick friend would add to him some gain,
+    Goes not to seek a remedy to save,
+    But, like a wretch, hies[374] him to dig his grave;
+    As I have done for virtuous Carracus.
+    Yet, Albert, be not reasonless, to endanger
+    What thou may'st yet secure; who can detect
+    The crime of thy licentious appetite?--
+    I hear one's pace! 'tis surely Carracus.
+
+_Enter_ CARRACUS.
+
+    CAR. Not find my friend! sure, some malignant planet
+    Rules o'er this night, and, envying the content
+    Which I in thought possess, debars me thus
+    From what is more than happy, the lov'd presence
+    Of a dear friend and love.
+
+    ALB. 'Tis wronged Carracus by Albert's baseness:
+    I have no power now to reveal myself.
+
+    CAR. The horses stand at the appointed place,
+    And night's dark coverture makes firm our safety.
+    My friend is surely fall'n into a slumber
+    On some bank hereabouts; I will call him.
+    Friend Albert, Albert!
+
+    ALB. Whate'er you are that call, you know my name.
+
+    CAR. Ay, and thy heart, dear friend.
+
+    ALB. O Carracus, you are a slow-pac'd lover!
+    Your credit had been touch'd, had I not been.
+
+    CAR. As how, I prythee, Albert?
+
+    ALB. Why, I excus'd you to the fair Maria;
+    Who would have thought you else a slack performer.
+    For coming first under her chamber-window,
+    She heard me tread, and call'd upon your name;
+    To which I answer'd with a tongue like yours,
+    And told her I would go to seek for Albert,
+    And straight return.
+
+    CAR. Whom I have found; thanks to thy faith and heav'n.
+    But had not she a light when you came first?
+
+    ALB. Yes, but hearing of some company,
+    She at my warning was forc'd to put it out.
+    And had I been so too, you and I too
+    Had still been happy.                                [_Aside._
+
+    CAR. See, we are now come to the chamber-window.
+
+    ALB. Then you must call, for so I said I would.
+
+    CAR. Maria.
+
+    MARIA. My Carracus, are you so soon return'd?
+    I see you'll keep your promise.
+
+    CAR. Who would not do so, having pass'd it thee,
+    Cannot be fram'd of aught but treachery:
+    Fairest, descend, that by our hence departing
+    We may make firm the bliss of our content.
+
+    MARIA. Is your friend Albert with you?
+
+    ALB. Yes, and your servant, honoured lady.
+
+    MARIA. Hold me from falling, Carracus.        [_She descends._
+
+    CAR. I will do now so, but not at other times.
+
+    MARIA. You are merry, sir:
+    But what d' y' intend with this your scaling-ladder,
+    To leave it thus, or put it forth of sight?
+
+    CAR. Faith, 'tis no great matter which:
+    Yet we will take it hence, that it may breed
+    Many confus'd opinions in the house
+    Of your escape. Here, Albert, you shall bear it;
+    It may be you may chance to practise that way;
+    Which when you do, may your attempts so prove,
+    As mine have done--most fortunate in love.
+
+    ALB. May you continue ever so!
+    But it's time now to make some haste to horse;
+    Night soon will vanish. O, that it had power
+    For ever to exclude day from our eyes,
+    For my looks, then, will show my villany.            [_Aside._
+
+    CAR. Come, fair Maria, the troubles of this night
+    Are as forerunners to ensuing pleasures.
+    And, noble friend, although now Carracus
+    Seems, in the gaining of this beauteous prize,
+    To keep from you so much of his lov'd treasure,
+    Which ought not to be mixed; yet this heart
+    Shall so far strive in your wish'd happiness,
+    That if the loss and ruin of itself
+    Can but avail your good----
+
+    ALB. O friend! no more; come, you are slow in haste;
+    Friendship ought never be discuss'd in words,
+    Till all her deeds be finish'd. Who, looking in a book,
+    And reads but some part only, cannot judge
+    What praise the whole deserves, because his knowledge
+    Is grounded but on part. As thine, friend, is
+    Ignorant of that black mischief I have done thee.    [_Aside._
+
+    MAR. Carracus, I am weary; are the horses far?
+
+    CAR. No, fairest, we are now even at them:
+    Come, do you follow, Albert?
+
+    ALB. Yes, I do follow; would I had done so ever,
+    And ne'er had gone before.                 [_Aside. Exeunt._
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+  [364] The pronoun _he_ seems wanting here, but the old 4º omits
+  it.--_Collier._
+
+  [365] If this be not a corrupted, it must be an affected, word, coined
+  from the Latin word _niteo_, to shine or be splendid. He was admired
+  by those who _shone_ most in the article of dress.--_Steevens._
+
+  So in Marston's "Satires," printed with "Pygmalion," 1598--
+
+      "O dapper, rare, compleat, sweet _nittie_ youth!
+      Jesu Maria! how his clothes appeare
+      Crost and re-crost with lace," &c.
+
+  _Niters_, however, may be a corruption of _niflers_. Chaucer uses
+  _nifles_ for _trifles_. See "Sompnour's Tale," Tyrwhitt's edit. v.
+  7342--
+
+      "He served him with _nifles_ and with fables."
+
+  [_Knights_ would be a bold emendation, and perhaps not very
+  successful.]
+
+  [366] "Passage is a game at dice to be played at but by two, and it is
+  performed with three dice. The caster throws continually till he hath
+  thrown dubblets under ten, and then he is out and loseth; or dubblets
+  above ten, and then he _passeth_ and wins."--_Compleat Gamester_,
+  1680, p. 119.
+
+  [367] A play called "Long Meg of Westminster," according to Henslowe,
+  was performed at Newington by the Lord Admiral's and Lord
+  Chamberlain's men, the 14th February 1594; and a ballad on the same
+  subject was entered on the Stationers' books in the same year. Meg of
+  Westminster is mentioned in "The Roaring Girl."--_Gilchrist._
+
+  The play of "Long Meg" is mentioned in Field's "Amends for Ladies,"
+  1618, with another called "The Ship," as being played at the Fortune
+  theatre. Feesimple says, "Faith, I have a great mind to see 'Long Meg'
+  and 'The Ship' at the Fortune," which would seem to show in opposition
+  to Mr Malone's opinion (see Malone's Shakespeare by Boswell, iii.
+  304), that more than one piece was played on the same occasion. Long
+  Meg of Westminster's "pranks" were detailed in a tract published in
+  [1582], and reprinted in the "Miscellanea Antiqua Anglicana." The
+  introduction contains some further notices of this conspicuous
+  damsel.--_Collier._
+
+  [368] Perhaps this was the title of some play or ballad that was very
+  successful, though it is not easy to explain the allusion. Dekker, in
+  his "If it be not good, the Devil is in it," seems to refer to the
+  same piece to nearly the same purpose. Scumbroth observes, "No, no, if
+  fortune favoured me, I should be full; but fortune favours nobody but
+  garlick, nor garlick neither now, yet she hath strong reason to love
+  it; for though garlick made her smell abominably in the nostrils of
+  the gallants, yet she had smelt and stunk worse but for garlick." It
+  may be, that such a play was produced at the Fortune theatre, and met
+  with general approbation.
+
+  This conjecture is supported by the following passage from "The
+  World's Folly; or, A Warning-Peece Discharged upon the Wickedness
+  thereof," by I.H., 1615: "I will not particularize those _blitea
+  dramata_, (as Laberius tearmes another sort), those _Fortune_-fatted
+  fooles and Times Ideots, whose garbe is the Tootheache of witte, the
+  Plague-sore of Judgement, the Common-sewer of Obscoenities, and the
+  very Traine-powder that dischargeth the roaring _Meg_ (not _Mol_) of
+  all scurrile villainies upon the Cities face; who are faine to produce
+  blinde * _Impudence_ ['Garlicke' inserted in the margin, against the
+  asterisk] to personate himselfe upon their stage, behung with chaynes
+  of garlicke, as an antidote against their owne infectious breaths,
+  lest it should kill their Oyster-crying Audience."--_Collier._
+
+  [369] [So in old copy, but query, _addle-headed_.]
+
+  [370] This was one of the cries of London at the time: "_Buy my rope
+  of onions--white Sir Thomas's onions_." It was also liable to the
+  hypercriticism of the player. What St Thomas had to do with onions
+  does not appear; but the saint here meant was perhaps St Thomas of
+  Trunnions--
+
+      "Nay, softe, my maisters, by _Saincte Thomas of Trunions_,
+      I am not disposed to buy of your _onions_."
+
+  --"Apius and Virginia," 1575, sig. E 2. These lines are spoken by
+  Haphazard, the Vice, and are used as if the expression were
+  proverbial.
+
+  [371] Shrove-Tuesday was a holiday for apprentices and working people,
+  as appears by several contemporary writers. So in Dekker's "Seven
+  Deadly Sinnes of London," 1606, p. 35: "They presently (like prentises
+  upon _Shrove-Tuesday_) take the lawe into their owne handes, and doe
+  what they list."
+
+  [372] The omission of the preposition by Mr Reed spoiled the metre of
+  the line.--_Collier._
+
+  [373] So in "Hamlet," act ii. sc. 2: "To the celestial, and my soul's
+  idol, the most _beautified_ Ophelia." See the notes of Mr Theobald, Dr
+  Johnson, and Mr Steevens, thereon. [See also Dyce's "Shakespeare
+  Glossary," 1868, _in voce_.]
+
+  [374] [Old copy, _hides_.]
+
+
+
+
+ACTUS SECUNDUS.
+
+
+_Enter_ HOG _the usurer; with_ PETER SERVITUDE, _trussing his points_.
+
+HOG. What, hath not my young Lord Wealthy been here this morning?
+
+P. SER. No, in very deed, sir; he is a towardly young gentleman; shall
+he have my young mistress, your daughter, I pray you, sir?
+
+HOG. Ay, that he shall, Peter; she cannot be matched to greater honour
+and riches in all this country: yet the peevish girl makes coy of it,
+she had rather affect a prodigal; as there was Haddit, one that by this
+time cannot be otherwise than hanged, or in some worse estate; yet she
+would have had him: but I praise my stars she went without him, though I
+did not without his lands. 'Twas a rare mortgage, Peter.
+
+P. SER. As e'er came in parchment: but see, here comes my young lord.
+
+_Enter_ YOUNG LORD WEALTHY.
+
+Y. LORD W. Morrow, father Hog; I come to tell you strange news; my
+sister is stol'n away to-night, 'tis thought by necromancy. What
+necromancy is, I leave to the readers of the "Seven Champions of
+Christendom."[375]
+
+HOG. But is it possible your sister should be stolen? sure, some of the
+household servants were confederates in't.
+
+Y. LORD W. Faith, I think they would have confessed, then; for I am sure
+my lord and father hath put them all to the bastinado twice this morning
+already: not a waiting-woman, but has been stowed, i' faith.
+
+P. SER. Trust me, he says well for the most part.
+
+HOG. Then, my lord, your father is far impatient.
+
+Y. LORD W. Impatient! I ha' seen the picture of Hector[376] in a
+haberdasher's shop not look half so furious; he appears more terrible
+than wildfire at a play. But, father Hog, when is the time your daughter
+and I shall to this wedlock-drudgery?
+
+HOG. Troth, my lord, when you please; she's at your disposure, and I
+rest much thankful that your lordship will so highly honour me. She
+shall have a good portion, my lord, though nothing in respect of your
+large revenues. Call her in, Peter; tell her my most respected Lord
+Wealthy is here, to whose presence I will now commit her [_Exit_ PETER];
+and I pray you, my lord, prosecute the gain of her affection with the
+best affecting words you may, and so I bid good morrow to your lordship.
+
+                                                      [_Exit_ HOG.
+
+Y. LORD W. Morrow,[377] father Hog. To prosecute the gain of her
+affection with the best affecting words; as I am a lord, a most rare
+phrase! well, I perceive age is not altogether ignorant, though many an
+old justice is so.
+
+_Enter_ PETER SERVITUDE.
+
+How now, Peter, is thy young mistress up yet?
+
+P. SER. Yes, indeed, she's an early stirrer; and I doubt not hereafter
+but that your lordship may say, she's abroad before you can rise.
+
+Y. LORD W. Faith, and so she may, for 'tis long ere I can get up, when I
+go foxed to bed. But, Peter, has she no other suitors besides myself?
+
+P. SER. No, and it like your lordship; nor is it fit she should.
+
+Y. LORD W. Not fit she should? I tell thee, Peter, I would give away as
+much as some knights are worth, and that's not much, only to wipe the
+noses of some dozen or two of gallants, and to see how pitifully those
+parcels of men's flesh would look, when I had caught the bird which they
+had beaten the bush for.
+
+P. SER. Indeed, your lordship's conquest would have seemed the greater.
+
+Y. LORD W. Foot, as I am a lord, it angers me to the guts, that nobody
+hath been about her.
+
+P. SER. For anything I know, your lordship may go without her.
+
+Y. LORD W. An' I could have enjoyed her to some pale-faced lover's
+distraction, or been envied for my happiness, it had been somewhat.
+
+_Enter_ REBECCA, HOG'S _daughter_.
+
+But see where she comes! I knew she had not power enough to stay another
+sending for. O lords! what are we? our names enforce beauty to fly,
+being sent for. [_Aside._] Morrow, pretty Beck: how dost?
+
+REB. I rather should enquire your lordship's health, seeing you up at
+such an early hour. Was it the toothache, or else fleas disturbed you?
+
+Y. LORD W. Do you think I am subject to such common infirmities? Nay,
+were I diseased, I'd scorn but to be diseased like a lord, i' faith. But
+I can tell you news, your fellow virgin-hole player,[378] my sister, is
+stolen away to-night.
+
+REB. In truth. I am glad on't; she is now free from the jealous eye of a
+father. Do not ye suspect, my lord, who it should be that has carried
+her away?
+
+Y. LORD W. No, nor care not; as she brews, so let her bake; so said the
+ancient proverb. But, lady, mine that shall be, your father hath
+wished[379] me to appoint the day with you.
+
+REB. What day, my lord?
+
+Y. LORD W. Why, of marriage; or as the learned historiographer[380]
+writes, Hymen's holidays, or nuptial ceremonious rites.
+
+REB. Why, when would you appoint that, my lord?
+
+Y. LORD W. Why, let me see, I think the tailor may despatch all our
+vestures in a week: therefore, it shall be directly this day se'ennight.
+
+P. SER. God give you joy!
+
+REB. Of what, I pray, you impudence? This fellow will go near to take
+his oath that he hath seen us plight faiths together; my father keeps
+him for no other cause than to outswear the truth. My lord, not to hold
+you any longer in a fool's paradise, nor to blind you with the hopes I
+never intend to accomplish, know, I neither do, can, or will love you.
+
+Y. LORD W. How! not love a lord? O indiscreet young woman! Indeed, your
+father told me how unripe I should find you: but all's one, unripe fruit
+will ask more shaking before they fall than those that are; and my
+conquest will seem the greater still. [_Aside._]
+
+P. SER. Afore God, he is a most unanswerable lord, and holds her to't,
+i' faith.
+
+Y. LORD W. Nay, you could not have pleased me better, than seeing you so
+invincible, and of such difficult attaining to. I would not give a pin
+for the society of a female that should seem willing; but give me a
+wench that hath disdainful looks;
+
+    For 'tis denial whets an appetite,
+    When proffer'd service doth allay delight.
+
+REB. The fool's well-read in vice. [_Aside._] My lord, I hope you
+hereafter will no farther insinuate in the course of your affections;
+and, for the better withdrawing from them, you may please to know, I
+have irrevocably decreed never to marry.
+
+Y. LORD W. Never to marry! Peter, I pray bear witness of her words that,
+when I have attained her, it may add to my fame and conquest.
+
+REB. Yes, indeed, an't like your lordship.
+
+Y. LORD W. Nay, ye must think, Beck, I know how to woo; ye shall find no
+bashful university-man of me.
+
+REB. Indeed, I think y' had ne'er that bringing up. Did you ever study,
+my lord?
+
+Y. LORD W. Yes, faith, that I have, and, the last week too, three days
+and a night together.
+
+REB. About what, I pray?
+
+Y. LORD W. Only to find out why a woman, going on the right side of her
+husband in the daytime, should lie on his left side at night; and, as I
+am a lord, I never knew the meaning on't till yesterday. Malapert, my
+father's butler, being a witty jackanapes, told me why it was.
+
+REB. By'r Lady, my lord, 'twas a shrewd study, and I fear hath altered
+the property of your good parts; for, I'll assure you, I loved you a
+fortnight ago far better.
+
+Y. LORD W. Nay, 'tis all one, whether you do or no: 'tis but a little
+more trouble to bring ye about again; and no question, but a man may
+do't, I am he. 'Tis true, as your father said, the black ox hath not
+trod upon that foot of yours.
+
+REB. No, but the white calf hath; and so I leave your lordship.
+
+                                                  [_Exit_ REBECCA.
+
+Y. LORD W. Well, go thy ways, th' art as witty a marmalade-eater as ever
+I conversed with. Now, as I am a lord, I love her better and better;
+I'll home and poetise upon her good parts presently. Peter, here's a
+preparative to my farther applications; and, Peter, be circumspect in
+giving me diligent notice what suitors seem to be peeping.
+
+P. SER. I'll warrant you, my lord, she's your own; for I'll give out to
+all that come near her that she is betrothed to you; and if the worst
+come to the worst, I'll swear it.
+
+    Y. LORD W. Why, godamercy;
+    And if ever I do gain my request,
+    Thou shalt in braver clothes be shortly dress'd.    [_Exeunt._
+
+_Enter_ OLD LORD WEALTHY, _solus_.
+
+    Have the fates then conspir'd, and quite bereft
+    My drooping years of all the bless'd content
+    That age partakes of, by the sweet aspect
+    Of their well-nurtur'd issue; whose obedience,
+    Discreet and duteous 'haviour, only lengthens
+    The thread of age; when on the contrary,
+    By rude demeanour and their headstrong wills,
+    That thread's soon ravell'd out. O, why, Maria,
+    Couldst thou abandon me now at this time,
+    When my grey head's declining to the grave?
+    Could any masculine flatterer on earth
+    So far bewitch thee to forget thyself,
+    As now to leave me? did nature solely give thee me,
+    As my chief, inestimable treasure,
+    Whereby my age might pass in quiet to rest;
+    And art thou prov'd to be the only curse,
+    Which heav'n could throw upon mortality?
+    Yet I'll not curse thee, though I fear the fates
+    Will on thy head inflict some punishment,
+    Which I will daily pray they may withhold.
+    Although thy disobediency deserves
+    Extremest rigour, yet I wish to thee
+    Content in love, full of tranquillity.
+
+_Enter_ YOUNG LORD WEALTHY.
+
+    But see where stands my shame, whose indiscretion
+    Doth seem to bury all the living honours
+    Of all our ancestors; but 'tis the fates' decree,
+    That men might know their weak mortality.
+
+    Y. LORD W. Sir, I cannot find my sister.
+
+    O. LORD W. I know thou canst not: 'twere too rare to see
+    Wisdom found out by ignorance.
+
+Y. LORD W. How, father! is it not possible that wisdom should be found
+out by ignorance? I pray, then, how do many magnificoes come by it?
+
+    O. LORD W. They buy it, son, as you had need to do.
+    Yet wealth without that may live more content
+    Than wit's enjoyers can, debarr'd of wealth.
+    All pray for wealth, but I never heard yet
+    Of any but one that e'er pray'd for wit.
+    He's counted wise enough in these vain times,
+    That hath but means enough to wear gay clothes,
+    And be an outside of humanity. What matters it a pin,
+    How indiscreet soe'er a natural be,
+    So that his wealth be great? that's it doth cause
+    Wisdom in these days to give fools applause.
+    And when gay folly speaks, how vain soe'er,
+    Wisdom must silent sit, and speech forbear.
+
+Y. LORD W. Then wisdom must sit as mute as learning among many
+courtiers. But, father, I partly suspect that Carracus hath got my
+sister.
+
+O. LORD W. With child, I fear, ere this.
+
+Y. LORD W. By'r Lady, and that may be true. But, whether he has or no,
+it's all one: if you please, I'll take her from under his nose, in spite
+on's teeth, and ask him no leave.
+
+    O. LORD W. That were too headstrong, son;
+    We'll rather leave them to the will of heaven,
+    To fall or prosper; and though young Carracus
+    Be but a gentleman of small revenues,
+    Yet he deserves my daughter for his virtues:
+    And, had I thought she could not be withdrawn
+    From th' affecting of him, I had, ere this,
+    Made them both happy by my free consent;
+    Which now I wish I had granted, and still pray,
+    If any have her, it may be Carracus.
+
+Y. LORD W. Troth, and I wish so too; for, in my mind, he's a gentleman
+of a good house, and speaks true Latin.
+
+    O. LORD W. To-morrow, son, you shall ride to his house,
+    And there inquire of your sister's being.
+    But, as you tender me and your own good,
+    Use no rough language savouring of distaste,
+    Or any uncivil terms.
+
+    Y. LORD W. Why, do you take me for a midwife?
+
+    O. LORD W. But tell young Carracus these words from me,
+    That if he hath, with safeguard of her honour,
+    Espons'd my daughter, that I then forgive
+    His rash offence, and will accept of him
+    In all the fatherly love I owe a child.
+
+Y. LORD W. I am sure my sister will be glad to hear it, and I cannot
+blame her; for she'll then enjoy that with quietness which many a wench
+in these days does scratch for.
+
+    O. LORD W. Come, son, I'll write
+    To Carracus, that my own hand may witness,
+    How much I stand affected to his worth.             [_Exeunt._
+
+_Enter_ HADDIT, _in his gay apparel, making him ready, and with him_
+LIGHTFOOT.
+
+HAD. By this light, coz, this suit does rarely! The tailor that made it
+may hap to be saved, an't be but for his good works: I think I shall be
+proud of 'em, and so I was never yet of any clothes.
+
+LIGHT. How! not of your clothes? why then you were never proud of
+anything, for therein chiefly consisteth pride; for you never saw pride
+pictured but in gay attire.
+
+HAD. True; but, in my opinion, pride might as well be portrayed in any
+other shape, as to seem to be an affecter of gallantry, being the causes
+thereof are so several and divers. As, some are proud of their strength,
+although that pride cost them the loss of a limb or two by over-daring;
+likewise, some are proud of their humour, although in that humour they
+be often knocked for being so; some are proud of their drink, although
+that liquid operation cause them to wear a nightcap three weeks after;
+some are proud of their good parts, although they never put them to
+better uses than the enjoying of a common strumpet's company, and are
+only made proud by the favour of a waiting-woman; others are proud----
+
+LIGHT. Nay, I prythee, coz, enough of pride; but when do you intend to
+go yonder to Covetousness the usurer, that we may see how near your plot
+will take for the releasing of your mortgaged lands?
+
+HAD. Why, now presently; and, if I do not accomplish my projects to a
+wished end, I wish my fortunes may be like some scraping tradesman, that
+never embraceth true pleasure till he be threescore and ten.
+
+LIGHT. But say Hog's daughter, on whom all your hopes depend, by this be
+betrothed to some other.
+
+HAD. Why, say she were; nay more, married to another, I would be ne'er
+the farther from effecting my intents. No, coz, I partly know her inward
+disposition; and, did I but only know her to be womankind, I think it
+were sufficient.
+
+LIGHT. Sufficient for what?
+
+HAD. Why, to obtain a grant of the best thing she had, chastity. Man,
+'tis not here as 'tis with you in the country, not to be had without
+father's and mother's goodwill; no, the city is a place of more
+traffic, where each one learns by example of their elders to make the
+most of their own, either for profit or pleasure.
+
+LIGHT. 'Tis but your misbelieving thoughts make you surmise so: if women
+were so kind, how haps you had not by their favours kept yourself out of
+the claws of poverty?
+
+HAD. O, but, coz, can a ship sail without water? had I had but such a
+suit as this to set myself afloat, I would not have feared sinking. But
+come, no more of need; now to the usurer: and though
+
+    All hopes do fail, a man can want no living,
+    So long as sweet desire reigns in women.
+
+    LIGHT. But then yourself must able be in giving.    [_Exeunt._
+
+_Enter_ ALBERT, _solus_.
+
+    Conscience, thou horror unto wicked men,
+    When wilt thou cease thy all-afflicting wrath,[381]
+    And set my soul free from the labyrinth
+    Of thy tormenting terror? O, but it fits not!
+    Should I desire redress, or wish for comfort,
+    That have committed an act so inhumane,
+    Able to fill shame's spacious chronicle?
+    Who but a damn'd one could have done like me?
+    Robb'd my dear friend, in a short moment's time,
+    Of his love's high-priz'd gem of chastity:
+    That which so many years himself hath stay'd for?
+    How often hath he, as he lay in bed,
+    Sweetly discours'd to me of his Maria?
+    And with what pleasing passions did he suffer
+    Love's gentle war-siege? Then he would relate,
+    How he first came unto her fair eyes' view;
+    How long it was ere she could brook affection;
+    And then how constant she did still abide.
+    I then, at this, would joy, as if my breast
+    Had sympathis'd in equal happiness
+    With my true friend: but now, when joy should be,
+    Who but a damn'd one would have done like me?
+    He hath been married now, at least, a month;
+    In all which time I have not once beheld him.
+    This is his house--
+    I'll call to know his health, but will not see him,
+    My looks would then betray me; for, should he ask
+    My cause of seeming sadness or the like,
+    I could not but reveal, and so pour'd on
+    Worse unto ill, which breeds confusion.          [_He knocks._
+
+_Enter_ SERVINGMAN.
+
+SER. To what intent d'ye knock, sir?
+
+ALB. Because I would be heard, sir: is the master of this house within?
+
+    SER. Yes, marry is he, sir: would you speak with him?
+
+    ALB. My business is not so troublesome:
+    Is he in health, with his late espoused wife?
+
+    SER. Both are exceeding well, sir.
+
+    ALB. I'm truly glad on't: farewell, good friend.
+
+    SER. I pray you, let's crave your name, sir; I may else have anger.
+
+ALB. You may say one Albert, riding by this way, only inquired their
+health.
+
+    SER. I will acquaint so much.              [_Exit_ SERVINGMAN.
+
+    ALB. How like a poisonous doctor have I come,
+    To inquire their welfare, knowing that myself
+    Have given the potion[382] of their ne'er recovery;
+    For which I will afflict myself with torture ever.
+    And, since the earth yields not a remedy
+    Able to salve the sores my lust hath made,
+    I'll now take farewell of society
+    And th' abode of men, to entertain a life
+    Fitting my fellowship in desert woods,
+    Where beasts like me consort; there may I live
+    Far off from wronging virtuous Carracus.
+    There's no Maria that shall satisfy
+    My hateful lust: the trees shall shelter
+    This wretched trunk of mine, upon whose barks
+    I will engrave the story of my sin.
+    And there this short breath of mortality
+    I'll finish up in that repentant state,
+    Where not th' allurements of earth's vanities
+    Can e'er o'ertake me: there's no baits for lust,
+    No friend to ruin; I shall then be free
+    From practising the art of treachery:
+    Thither then, steps, where such content abides,
+    Where penitency, not disturb'd, may grieve,
+    Where on each tree and springing plant I'll carve
+    This heavy motto of my misery,
+    _Who but a damn'd one could have done like me?_
+    Carracus, farewell, if e'er thou see'st me more,
+    Shalt find me curing of a soul-sick sore.             [_Exit._
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+  [375] A very popular book, which is still reprinted.
+
+  [376] Hector is one of the Seven Worthies. He appears as such in
+  "Love's Labour's Lost." Nothing was once more common than the
+  portraits of these heroes; and therefore they might have found their
+  way occasionally into shops which we know to have been anciently
+  decorated with pictures for the amusement of some customers whilst
+  others were served. Of the Seven Worthies, the Ten Sibyls, and the
+  Twelve Cæsars, I have seen many complete sets in old halls and on old
+  staircases.--_Steevens._
+
+  [377] The 4º reads _Moreover_. The alteration was made by Mr
+  Reed.--_Collier._
+
+  [378] A designed play on the word _virginal_, a spinnet.--_Steevens._
+
+  [379] Desired or recommended.
+
+  [380] This was Samuel Daniel, who was an historian as well as a poet.
+  The work above alluded to is probably "Hymen's Triumph," a pastoral
+  tragi-comedy, acted at the Queen's Court in the Strand, at the
+  nuptials of Lord Roxburgh.
+
+  [381] The 4º has it _all-afflicted wrath_.--_Collier._
+
+  [382] The old copy has it _portion_, which is most likely
+  wrong.--_Collier._
+
+
+
+
+ACTUS TERTIUS.
+
+
+_Enter_ CARRACUS, _driving his man before him_.
+
+    CAR. Why, thou base villain! was my dearest
+    Friend here, and couldst not make him stay?
+
+    SER. 'Sfoot, sir, I could not force him 'gainst his will:
+    An' he had been a woman----
+
+    CAR. Hence, thou untutor'd slave!             [_Exit_ SERVANT.
+
+    But couldst thou, Albert, come so near my door,
+    And not vouchsafe the comfort of thy presence?
+    Hath my good fortune caus'd thee to repine?
+    And, seeing my state so full replete with good,
+    Canst thou withdraw thy love to lessen it?
+    What could so move thee? was't because I married?
+    Didst thou imagine I infring'd my faith,
+    For that a woman did participate
+    In equal share with thee? cannot my friendship
+    Be firm to thee because 'tis dear to her?
+    Yet no more dear to her than firm to thee.
+    Believe me, Albert, thou dost little think
+    How much thy absence gives cause of discontent.
+    But I'll impute it only to neglect:
+    It is neglect indeed when friends neglect
+    The sight of friends, and say 'tis troublesome:
+    Only ask how they do, and so farewell,
+    Showing an outward kind of seeming duty,
+    Which in the rules of manhood is observ'd,
+    And think full well they have perform'd their task,
+    When of their friend's health they do only ask;
+    Not caring how they are, or how distress'd--
+    It is enough they have their loves express'd
+    In bare inquiry; and, in these times, too,
+    Friendship's so cold, that few so much will do.
+    And am not I beholden then to Albert?
+    He, after knowledge of our being well,
+    Said he was truly glad on't: O rare friend!
+    If he be unkind, how many more may mend?
+    But whither am I carried by unkindness?
+    Why should not I as well set light by friendship,
+    Since I have seen a man, whom I late thought
+    Had been compos'd of nothing but of faith,
+    Prove so regardless of his friend's content?
+
+_Enter_ MARIA.
+
+    MARIA. Come, Carracus, I have sought you all about:
+    Your servant told me you were much disquieted
+    Prythee, love, be not so; come, [come,] walk in;
+    I'll charm thee with my lute from forth disturbance.
+
+    CAR. I am not angry, sweet; though, if I were,
+    Thy bright aspect would soon allay my rage.
+    But, my Maria, it doth something move me
+    That our friend Albert so forgets himself.
+
+    MARIA. It may be, 'tis nothing else; and there's no doubt
+    He'll soon remember his accustom'd friendship.
+    He thinks as yet, peradventure, that his presence
+    Will but offend, for that our marriage rites
+    Are but so newly pass'd.
+
+    CAR. I will surmise so too, and only think
+    Some serious business hinders Albert's presence.
+    But what ring's that, Maria, on your finger?
+
+    MARIA. 'Tis one you lost, love, when I did bestow
+    A jewel of far greater worth on you.
+
+    CAR. At what time, fairest?
+
+    MARIA. As if you knew not! why d'ye make't so strange?
+
+    CAR. You are dispos'd to riddle; pray, let's see't.
+    I partly know it: where was't you found it?
+
+    MARIA. Why, in my chamber, that most gladsome night,
+    When you enrich'd your love by my escape.
+
+    CAR. How! in your chamber?
+
+    MARIA. Sure, Carracus, I will be angry with you,
+    If you seem so forgetful. I took it up,
+    Then when you left my lodge, and went away,
+    Glad of your conquest, for to seek your friend,
+    Why stand you so amaz'd, sir? I hope that kindness,
+    Which then you reap'd, doth not prevail
+    So in your thoughts, as that you think me light.
+
+    CAR. O, think thyself, Maria, what thou art!
+    This is the ring of Albert, treacherous man!
+    He that enjoy'd thy virgin chastity.
+    I never did ascend into thy chamber.
+    But all that cold night, through the frozen field,
+    Went seeking of that wretch, who ne'er sought me;
+    But found what his lust sought for, dearest thee.
+
+    MARIA. I have heard enough, my Carracus, to bereave
+    Me of this little breath.                       [_She swoons._
+
+    CAR. All breath be first
+    Extinguished. Within there, ho!
+
+_Enter_ NURSE _and_ SERVANTS.
+
+O nurse! see here, Maria says she'll die.
+
+NURSE. Marry, God forbid! O mistress, mistress, mistress! she has breath
+yet; she's but in a trance: good sir, take comfort, she'll recover by
+and by.
+
+CAR. No, no, she'll die, nurse, for she said she would, an' she had not
+said so, 't had been another matter; but you know, nurse, she ne'er told
+a lie: I will believe her, for she speaks all truth.
+
+    NURSE. His memory begin's to fail him. Come, let's bear
+    This heavy spectacle from forth his presence;
+    The heavens will lend a hand, I hope, of comfort.   [_Exeunt._
+
+CARRACUS _manet_.
+
+    CAR. See, how they steal away my fair Maria!
+    But I will follow after her, as far
+    As Orpheus did to gain his soul's delight;
+    And Pluto's self shall know, although I am not
+    Skilful in music, yet I can be mad,
+    And force my love's enjoyment, in despite
+    Of hell's black fury. But stay, stay, Carracus.
+    Where is thy knowledge and that rational sense,
+    Which heaven's great architect endued thee with?
+    All sunk beneath the weight of lumpish nature?
+    Are our diviner parts no noblier free,
+    Than to be tortur'd by the weak assailments
+    Of earthsprung griefs? Why is man, then, accounted
+    The head commander of this universe,
+    Next the Creator, when a little storm
+    Of nature's fury straight o'erwhelms his judgment?
+    But mine's no little storm, it is a tempest
+    So full of raging, self-consuming woe,
+    That nought but ruin follows expectation.
+    O my Maria, what unheard-of sin
+    Have any of thine ancestors enacted,
+    That all their shame should be pour'd thus on thee?
+    Or what incestuous spirit, cruel Albert,
+    Left hell's vast womb for to enter thee,
+    And do a mischief of such treachery?
+
+_Enter_ NURSE, _weeping_.
+
+    O nurse, how is it with Maria?
+    If e'er thy tongue did utter pleasing words,
+    Let it now do so, or hereafter e'er
+    Be dumb in sorrow.
+
+    NURSE. Good sir, take comfort; I am forced to speak
+    What will not please: your chaste wife, sir, is dead.
+
+    CAR. 'Tis dead, indeed! how did you know 'twas so, nurse?
+
+    NURSE. What, sir?
+
+    CAR. That my heart was dead: sure, thou hast serv'd
+    Dame Nature's self, and know'st the inward secrets
+    Of all our hidden powers: I'll love thee for't;
+    And, if thou wilt teach me that unknown skill,
+    Shalt see what wonders Carracus will do:
+    I'll dive into the breast of hateful Albert,
+    And see how his black soul is round encompass'd
+    By fearful fiends. O, I would do strange things!
+    I'd know to whose cause lawyers will incline
+    When they have[383] fees on both sides; view the thoughts
+    Of forlorn widows, when their knights have left them;
+    Search through the guts of greatness, and behold
+    What several sin best pleased them: thence I'd descend
+    Into the bowels of some pocky sir,
+    And tell to lechers all the pains he felt,
+    That they thereby might warned be from lust.
+    Troth, 'twill be rare! I'll study it presently.
+
+    NURSE. Alas! he is distracted! what a sin
+    Am I partaker of, by telling him
+    So curs'd an untruth? But 'twas my mistress' will.
+    Who is recovered; though her griefs never
+    Can be recover'd. She hath vow'd with tears
+    Her own perpetual banishment; therefore to him
+    Death were not more displeasing than if I
+    Had told her lasting absence.
+
+    CAR. I find my brain's too shallow far for study.
+    What need I care for being a 'rithmetician?
+    Let citizens' sons stand, an' they will, for cyphers:
+    Why should I teach them, and go beat my brains
+    To instruct unapt and unconceiving dolts;
+    And, when all's done, my art, that should be fam'd,
+    Will by gross imitation be but sham'd?
+    Your judgment, madam?
+
+    NURSE. Good sir, walk in; we'll send for learned men,
+    That can allay your frenzy.
+
+    CAR. But can Maria so forget herself,
+    As to debar us thus of her attendance?
+
+    NURSE. She's within, sir, pray you, will you walk to her?
+
+    CAR. O, is she so! Come, then, let's softly steal
+    Into her chamber; if she be asleep,
+    I'll laugh, shalt see, enough, and thou shalt weep.
+    Softly, good long-coat, softly.                     [_Exeunt._
+
+_Enter_ MARIA _in page's apparel_.
+
+    MAR. Cease now thy steps, Maria, and look back
+    Upon that place where distress'd Carracus
+    Hath his sad being; from whose virtuous bosom
+    Shame hath constrained me fly, ne'er to return.
+    I will go seek some unfrequented path
+    Either in desert woods or wilderness,
+    There to bewail my innocent mishaps,
+    Which heaven hath justly poured down on me,
+    In punishing my disobediency.
+
+_Enter_ YOUNG LORD WEALTHY.
+
+    O, see my brother!                              [_Exit_ MARIA.
+
+Y. LORD W. Ho, you three-foot-and-a-half! Why, page, I say! 'Sfoot, he
+is vanished as suddenly as a dumb show.[384] If a lord had lost his way
+now, so he had been served. But let me see: as I take it, this is the
+house of Carracus. A very fair building, but it looks as if 'twere dead;
+I can see no breath come out of the chimneys. But I shall know the
+state on't by and by, by the looks of some servingman. What ho, within
+here! [_Beats at the door._
+
+_Enter_ SERVANT.
+
+    SER. Good sir, you have your arms at liberty.
+    Wilt please you to withdraw your action of battery?
+
+Y. LORD W. Yes, indeed, now you have made your appearance. Is thy
+living-giver within, sir?
+
+SER. You mean my master, sir?
+
+Y. LORD W. You have hit it, sir, praised be your understanding. I am to
+have conference with him; would you admit my presence?
+
+SER. Indeed, sir, he is at this time not in health, and may not be
+disturbed.
+
+Y. LORD W. Sir, if he were in the pangs of childbed, I'd speak with him.
+
+_Enter_ CARRACUS.
+
+CAR. Upon what cause, gay man?
+
+Y. LORD W. 'Sfoot, I think he be disturbed indeed; he speaks more
+commanding than a constable at midnight. Sir, my lord and father, by me
+(a lord) hath sent these lines enclosed, which show his whole intent.
+
+    CAR. Let me peruse them; if they do portend
+    To the state's good, your answer shall be sudden,
+    Your entertainment friendly; but if otherwise,
+    Our meanest subject shall divide thy greatness.
+    You'd best look to't, ambassador.
+
+    Y. LORD W. Is your master a statesman, friend?
+
+    SER. Alas! no, sir; he understands not what he speaks.
+
+Y. LORD W. Ay, but when my father dies, I am to be called in for one
+myself, and I hope to bear the place as gravely as my successors have
+done before me.
+
+    CAR. Ambassador, I find your master's will
+    Treats to the good of somewhat, what it is--
+    You have your answer, and may now depart.
+
+    Y. LORD W. I will relate as much, sir; fare ye well.
+
+    CAR. But stay, I had forgotten quite our chief'st affairs:
+    Your master father writes, some three lines lower,
+    Of one Maria, that is wife to me:
+    That she and I should travel now with you
+    Unto his presence.
+
+Y. LORD W. Why, now I understand you, sir: that Maria is my sister, by
+whose conjunction you are created brother to me a lord.
+
+    CAR. But, brother lord, we cannot go this journey.
+
+    Y. LORD W. Alas! no, sir? We mean to do it.
+    My sister shall ride upon my nag.
+
+    CAR. Come, then, we'll in and strive to woo your sister.
+    I have not seen her, sir, at least these three days.
+    They keep her in a chamber, and tell me
+    She's fast asleep still: you and I'll go see.
+
+    Y. LORD W. Content, sir.
+
+    SER. Madmen and fools agree.                  [_Aside Exeunt._
+
+_Enter_ HADDIT _and_ REBECCA.
+
+REB. When you have got this prize, you mean to lose me.
+
+HAD. Nay, prythee, do not think so. If I do not marry thee this instant
+night, may I never enjoy breath a minute after! By heaven, I respect not
+his pelf thus much, but only that I may have wherewith to maintain thee.
+
+REB. O, but to rob my father, though he be bad, the world will think ill
+of me.
+
+HAD. Think ill of thee! Can the world pity him that ne'er pitied any?
+besides, since there is no end of his goods nor beginning of his
+goodness, had not we as good share his dross in his lifetime, as let
+controversy and lawyers devour it at his death?
+
+REB. You have prevailed. At what hour is't you intend to have entrance
+into his chamber?
+
+HAD. Why, just at midnight; for then our apparition will seem most
+fearful. You'll make a way that we may ascend up like spirits?
+
+REB. I will; but how many have you made instruments herein?
+
+HAD. Faith, none but my cousin Lightfoot and a player.
+
+REB. But may you trust the player?
+
+HAD. O, exceeding well. We'll give him a speech he understands not. But,
+now I think on't, what's to be done with your father's man Peter?
+
+REB. Why, the least quantity of drink will lay him dead asleep. But
+hark, I hear my father coming. Soon in the evening I'll convey you in.
+
+HAD. Till when, let this outward ceremony be a true pledge of our inward
+affections. [_Kisses her. Exit_ REBECCA.] Lo, this goes better forward
+than the plantation in Virginia: but see, here comes half the West
+Indies, whose rich mines this night I mean to be ransacking.
+
+_Enter_ HOG, LIGHTFOOT, _and_ PETER.
+
+HOG. Then you'll seal for this small lordship, you say? To-morrow your
+money shall be rightly told up for you to a penny.
+
+LIGHT. I pray, let it, and that your man may set contents upon every
+bag.
+
+HAD. Indeed, by that we may know what we steal, without labour for the
+telling on't over. [_Aside._] How now, gentlemen, are ye agreed upon
+the price of this earth and clay?
+
+HOG. Yes, faith, Master Haddit, the gentleman your friend here makes me
+pay sweetly for't; but let it go, I hope to inherit heaven, if it be but
+for doing gentlemen pleasure.
+
+HOG. Peter!
+
+P. SER. Anon, sir.
+
+HOG. I wonder how Haddit came by that gay suit of clothes; all his means
+were consumed long since.
+
+P. SER. Why, sir, being undone himself, he lives by the undoing, or (by
+Lady!) it may be by the doing, of others--or peradventure both. A
+decayed gallant may live by anything, if he keep one thing safe.
+
+HOG. Gentlemen, I'll to the scrivener's, to cause these writings to be
+drawn.
+
+LIGHT. Pray do, sir; we'll now leave you till the morning.
+
+HOG. Nay, you shall stay dinner; I'll return presently. Peter, some beer
+here for these worshipful gentlemen.
+
+                                        [_Exeunt_ HOG _and_ PETER.
+
+HAD. We shall be bold, no doubt; and that, old penny-father, you'll
+confess by to-morrow morning.
+
+LIGHT. Then his daughter is certainly thine, and condescends to all thy
+wishes?
+
+HAD. And yet you would not once believe it; as if a female's favour
+could not be obtained by any but he that wears the cap of maintenance;
+
+    When 'tis nothing but acquaintance and a bold spirit,
+    That may the chiefest prize 'mongst all of them inherit.
+
+LIGHT. Well, thou hast got one deserves the bringing home with trumpets,
+and falls to thee as miraculously as the £1000 did to the tailor. Thank
+your good fortune. But must Hog's man be made drunk?
+
+HAD. By all means; and thus it shall be effected: when he comes in with
+beer, do you upon some slight occasion fall out with him, and if you
+give him a cuff or two, it will give him cause to know you are the more
+angry, then will I slip in and take up the matter, and, striving to make
+you two friends, we'll make him drunk.
+
+LIGHT. It's done in conceit already. See where he comes.
+
+_Enter_ PETER.
+
+P. SER. Wilt please you to taste a cup of September beer, gentlemen?
+
+LIGHT. Pray, begin: we'll pledge you, sir.
+
+P. SER. It's out, sir.
+
+LIGHT. Then my hand is in, sir. [LIGHTFOOT _cuffs him_.] Why goodman
+Hobby-horse, if we out of our gentility offered you to begin, must you
+out of your rascality needs take it?
+
+HAD. Why, how now, sirs, what's the matter?
+
+P. SER. The gentleman here falls out with me upon nothing in the world
+but mere courtesy.
+
+HAD. By this light, but he shall not; why, cousin Lightfoot!
+
+P. SER. Is his name Lightfoot? a plague on him, he has a heavy hand.
+
+_Enter_ YOUNG LORD WEALTHY.
+
+Y. LORD W. Peace be here; for I came late enough from a madman.
+
+HAD. My young lord, God save you.
+
+Y. LORD W. And you also: I could speak it in Latin, but the phrase is
+common.[385]
+
+HAD. True, my lord, and what's common ought not much to be dealt withal;
+but I must desire your help, my lord, to end a controversy here between
+this gentleman my friend and honest Peter who, [_Aside_] I dare be
+sworn, is as ignorant as your lordship.
+
+Y. LORD W. That I will; but, my masters, this much I'll say unto you--if
+so be this quarrel may be taken up peaceably without the endangering of
+my own person, well and good: otherwise I will not meddle therewith, for
+I have been vexed late enough already.
+
+HAD. Why then, my lord, if it please you, let me, being your inferior,
+decree the cause between them.
+
+Y. LORD W. I do give leave or permit.
+
+HAD. Then thus I will propound a reasonable motion; how many cuffs,
+Peter, did this gentleman out of his fury make thee partaker of.
+
+P. SER. Three, at the least, sir.
+
+HAD. All which were bestowed upon you for beginning first, Peter.
+
+P. SER. Yes, indeed, sir.
+
+HAD. Why then, hear the sentence of your suffering. You shall both down
+into Master Hog's cellar, Peter; and whereas you began first to him, so
+shall he there to you; and as he gave you three cuffs, so shall you
+retort off, in defiance of him, three black-jacks, which if he deny to
+pledge, then the glory is thine, and he accounted by the wise discretion
+of my lord here a flincher.
+
+OMNES. A reasonable motion.
+
+Y. LORD W. Why so; this is better than being among madmen yet.
+
+HAD. Were you so lately with any, my lord?
+
+Y. LORD W. Yes, faith; I'll tell you all in the cellar, how I was taken
+for an ambassador; and being no sooner in the house, but the madman
+carries me up into the garret for a spy, and very roundly bad me
+untruss; and, had not a courteous servingman conveyed me away whilst he
+went to fetch whips, I think in my conscience, not respecting my honour,
+he would have breech'd me.[386]
+
+HAD. By Lady, and 'twas to be fear'd; but come, my lord, we'll hear the
+rest in the cellar.
+
+    And honest Peter, thou that hast been griev'd,
+    My lord and I will see thee well-reliev'd.          [_Exeunt._
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+  [383] Old copy, _had_.
+
+  [384] _i.e._, One of those _inexplicable dumb shows_ ridiculed by
+  "Hamlet." See edition of Shakespeare 1778, x.p. 284.--_Steevens._
+
+  [385] Alluding to the use of it in Cooke's "City Gallant," commonly
+  called "Green's Tu quoque," printed in the present volume.
+
+  [386] _i.e._, Whipped me.
+
+
+
+
+ACTUS QUARTUS.
+
+
+_Enter_ ALBERT _in the woods_.
+
+    How full of sweet content had this life been,
+    If it had been embraced but before
+    My burthenous conscience was so fraught with sin!
+    But now my griefs o'ersway that happiness.
+    O, that some lecher or accurs'd betrayer
+    Of sacred friendship might but here arrive,
+    And read the lines repentant on each tree
+    That I have carv'd t' express my misery!
+    My admonitions now would sure convert
+    The sinful'st creature; I could tell them now,
+    How idly vain those humans spend their lives
+    That daily grieve, not for offences pass'd,
+    But to enjoy some wanton's company;
+    Which when obtain'd, what is it but a blot,
+    Which their whole life's repentance scarce can clear?
+    I could now tell to friend-betraying man,
+    How black a sin is hateful treachery,
+    How heavy on their wretched souls 'twill sit,
+    When fearful death will plant his siege but near them,
+    How heavy and affrighted will their end
+    Seem to approach them, as if then they knew
+    The full beginning of their endless woe
+    Were then appointed; which astonishment,
+    O blest repentance, keep me Albert from!
+    And suffer not despair to overwhelm,
+    And make a shipwreck of my heavy soul.
+
+_Enter_ MARIA, _like a page_.
+
+    Who's here? a page? what black disastrous fate
+    Can be so cruel to his pleasing youth?
+
+    MARIA. So now, Maria, here thou must forego
+    What nature lent thee to repay to death!
+    Famine, I thank thee, I have found thee kindest;
+    Thou sett'st a period to my misery.                 [_Faints._
+
+    ALB. It is Maria, that fair innocent,
+    Whom my abhorred lust hath brought to this;
+    I'll go for sustenance: and, O ye powers!
+    If ever true repentance wan acceptance,
+    O, show it Albert now, and let him save
+    This[387] wronged beauty from untimely grave.   [_Exit_ ALBERT.
+
+    MARIA. Sure, something spake, or else my feebled sense
+    Hath lost the use of its due property;
+    Which is more likely, than that in this place
+    The voice of human creature should be heard.
+    This is far distant from the paths of men:
+    Nothing breathes here but wild and ravening beasts,
+    With airy monsters, whose shadowing wings do seem
+    To cast a veil of death on wicked livers;[388]
+    Which I live dreadless of, and every hour
+    Strive to meet death, who still unkind avoids me:
+    But that now gentle famine doth begin
+    For to give end to my calamities.
+    See, here is carv'd upon this tree's smooth bark
+    Lines knit in verse, a chance far unexpected!
+    Assist me, breath, a little to unfold
+    What they include.
+
+                   _The Writing._
+
+    _I that have writ these lines am one, whose sin
+    Is more than grievous; for know, that I have been
+    A breaker of my faith with one, whose breast
+    Was all compos'd of truth: but I digress'd,
+    And fled th' embrace[389] of his dear friendship's love,
+    Clasping to falsehood, did a villain prove;
+    As thus shall be express'd. My worthy friend
+    Lov'd a fair beauty, who did condescend
+    In dearest affection to his virtuous will;
+    He then a night appointed to fulfil
+    Hymen's bless'd rites, and to convey away
+    His love's fair person, to which peerless prey
+    I was acquainted made, and when the hour
+    Of her escape drew on, then lust did pour
+    Enraged appetite through all my veins,
+    And base desires in me let loose the reins
+    To my licentious will: and that black night,
+    When my friend should have had his chaste delight,
+    I feign'd his presence, and (by her thought him),
+    Robb'd that fair virgin of her honour's gem:
+    For which most heinous crime upon each tree
+    I write this story, that men's eyes may see
+    None but a damn'd one would have done like me._
+    Is Albert then become so penitent,
+    As in these deserts to deplore his facts,
+    Which his unfeign'd repentance seems to clear?
+    How good man is when he laments his ill!
+    Who would not pardon now that man's misdeeds,
+    Whose griefs bewail them thus? could I now live,
+    I would remit thy fault with Carracus:
+    But death no longer will afford reprieve
+    Of my abundant woes: wrong'd Carracus, farewell;
+    Live, and forgive thy wrongs, for the repentance
+    Of him that caused them so deserves from thee;
+    And since my eyes do witness Albert's grief,
+    I pardon Albert, in my wrongs the chief.
+
+_Enter_ ALBERT, _like a hermit_.
+
+    ALB. How! pardon me? O sound angelical!
+    But see, she faints. O heavens! now show your power,
+    That these distilled waters, made in grief,
+    May add some comfort to affliction:
+    Look up, fair youth, and see a remedy.
+
+    MAR. O, who disturbs me? I was hand in hand,
+    Walking with death unto the house of rest.
+
+    ALB. Let death walk by himself; if he want company,
+    There's many thousands, boy, whose aged years
+    Have ta'en a surfeit of earth's vanities;
+    They will go with him when he please to call.
+    Do drink, my boy; thy pleasing, tender youth
+    Cannot deserve to die; no, it is for us,
+    Whose years are laden by our often sins,
+    Singing the last part of our bless'd repentance,
+    Are fit for death; and none but such as we
+    Death ought to claim; for when a' snatcheth youth,
+    It shows him but a tyrant; but when age,
+    Then is he just, and not compos'd of rage.
+    How fares my lad?
+
+    MAR. Like one embracing death with all his parts,
+    Reaching at life but with one little finger;
+    His mind so firmly knit unto the first,
+    That unto him the latter seems to be,
+    What may be pointed at, but not possess'd.
+
+    ALB. O, but thou shalt possess it.
+    If thou didst fear thy death but as I do,
+    Thou wouldst take pity: though not of thyself,
+    Yet of my aged years. Trust me, my boy,
+    Thou'st struck such deep compassion in my breast,
+    That all the moisture which prolongs my life
+    Will from my eyes gush forth, if now thou leav'st me.
+
+    MAR. But can we live here in this desert wood?
+    If not, I'll die, for other places seem
+    Like tortures to my griefs. May I live here?
+
+    ALB. Ay, thou shalt live with me, and I will tell thee
+    Such strange occurrents of my fore-pass'd life,
+    That all thy young-sprung griefs shall seem but sparks
+    To the great fire of my calamities.
+
+    MAR. Then I'll live only with you for to hear,
+    If any human woes can be like mine.
+    Yet, since my being in this darksome desert,
+    I have read on trees most lamentable stories.[390]
+
+    ALB. 'Tis true indeed, there's one within these woods
+    Whose name is Albert; a man so full of sorrow,
+    That on each tree he passes by he carves
+    Such doleful lines for his rash follies pass'd,
+    That whoso reads them, and not drown'd in tears,
+    Must have a heart fram'd forth of adamant.
+
+    MAR. And can you help me to the sight of him?
+
+    ALB. Ay, when thou wilt; he'll often come to me,
+    And at my cave sit a whole winter's night,
+    Recounting of his stories. I tell thee, boy,
+    Had he offended more than did that man,
+    Who stole the fire from heaven, his contrition
+    Would appease all the gods, and quite revert
+    Their wrath to mercy. But come, my pretty boy,
+    We'll to my cave, and after some repose
+    Relate the sequel of each other's woes.             [_Exeunt._
+
+_Enter_ CARRACUS.
+
+    CAR. What a way have I come, yet I know not
+    Whither: the air's so cold this winter season,
+    I'm sure a fool--would any but an ass
+    Leave a warm-matted chamber and a bed,
+    To run thus in the cold? and (which is more)
+    To seek a woman--a slight thing call'd woman?
+    Creatures, which curious nature fram'd, as I suppose,
+    For rent-receivers to her treasury.
+    And why I think so now, I'll give you instance;
+    Most men do know that nature's self hath made them
+    Most profitable members; then if so,
+    By often trading in the commonwealth
+    They needs must be enrich'd; why, very good!
+    To whom ought beauty then repay this gain,
+    Which she by nature's gift hath profited,
+    But unto nature? why, all this I grant.
+    Why then they shall no more be called women,
+    For I will style them thus, scorning their leave,
+    Those that for nature do much rent receive.
+    This is a wood, sure; and, as I have read,
+    In woods are echoes which will answer men
+    To every question which they do propound. Echo.[391]
+
+    ECHO.                                           _Echo._
+
+    CAR. O, are you there? have at ye then, i' faith.
+    Echo, canst tell me whether men or women
+    Are for the most part damn'd?
+
+    ECHO.                               _Most part damn'd._
+
+    CAR. O,[392] both indeed; how true this echo speaks!
+    Echo, now tell me, if amongst a thousand women
+    There be one chaste or none?
+
+    ECHO.                                           _None._
+
+    CAR. Why, so I think; better and better still.
+    Now farther: Echo, in the world of men,
+    Is there one faithful to his friend, or no?
+
+    ECHO.                                             _No._
+
+    CAR. Thou speak'st most true, for I have found it so.
+    Who said thou wast a woman, Echo, lies;
+    Thou couldst not then answer so much of truth.
+    Once more, good Echo;
+    Was my Maria false by her own desire,
+    Or was't against her will?
+
+    ECHO.                               _Against her will._
+
+    CAR. Troth, it may be so; but canst thou tell,
+    Whether she be dead or not?
+
+    ECHO.                                            _Not._
+
+    CAR. Not dead!
+
+    ECHO.                                       _Not dead._
+
+    CAR. Then without question she doth surely live.
+    But I do trouble thee too much; therefore,
+    Good speak-truth, farewell.
+
+    ECHO.                                       _Farewell._
+
+    CAR. How quick it answers! O, that councillors
+    Would thus resolve men's doubts without a fee!
+    How many country clients then might rest
+    Free from undoing! no plodding pleader then
+    Would purchase great possessions with his tongue.
+    Were I some demigod, or had that power,
+    I would straight make this echo here a judge:
+    He'd spend his judgment in the open court,
+    As now to me, without being once solicited
+    In his private chamber; 'tis not bribes could win
+    Him to o'ersway men's right, nor could he be
+    Led to damnation for a little pelf;
+    He would not harbour malice in his heart,
+    Or envious hatred, base despite, or grudge,
+    But be an upright, just, and equal judge.
+    But now imagine that I should confront
+    Treacherous Albert, who hath rais'd my front!
+    But I fear this idle prate hath made me
+    Quite forget my _cinque pace_.[393]             [_He danceth._
+
+_Enter_ ALBERT.
+
+    ALB. I heard the echo answer unto one,
+    That by his speech cannot be far remote
+    From off this ground; and see, I have descri'd him:
+    O heavens! it's Carracus, whose reason's seat
+    Is now usurp'd by madness and distraction;
+    Which I, the author of confusion,
+    Have planted here by my accursed deeds.
+
+    CAR. O, are you come, sir! I was sending
+    The tavern-boy for you; I have been practising
+    Here, and can do none of my lofty tricks.
+
+    ALB. Good sir, if any spark do yet remain
+    Of your consumed reason, let me strive----
+
+    CAR. To blow it out? troth, I most kindly thank you,
+    Here's friendship to the life. But, Father Wheybeard,
+    Why should you think me void of reason's fire,
+    My youthful days being in the height of knowledge?
+    I must confess your old years gain experience;
+    But that so much o'errul'd by dotage,
+    That what you think experience shall effect,
+    Short memory destroys. What say you now, sir?
+    Am I mad now, that can answer thus
+    To all interrogatories?
+
+    ALB. But though your words do savour, sir, of judgment,
+    Yet when they derogate from the due observance
+    Of fitting times, they ought to be respected
+    No more than if a man should tell a tale
+    Of feigned mirth in midst of extreme sorrows.
+
+    CAR. How did you know
+    My sorrows, sir? what though I have lost a wife,
+    Must I be therefore griev'd? am I not happy
+    To be so freed of a continual trouble?
+    Had many a man such fortune as I,
+    In what a heaven would they think themselves,
+    Being releas'd of all those threat'ning clouds,
+    Which in the angry skies call'd women's brows
+    Sit, ever menacing tempestuous storms?
+    But yet I needs must tell you, old December,
+    My wife was clear of this; within her brow
+    She had not a wrinkle nor a storming frown:
+    But, like a smooth well-polish'd ivory,
+    It seem'd so pleasant to the looker-on:
+    She was so kind, of nature so gentle,
+    That if she'd done a fault, she'd straight go die for't:
+    Was not she then a rare one?
+    What, weep'st thou, aged Nestor?
+    Take comfort, man! Troy was ordain'd by fate
+    To yield to us, which we will ruinate.
+
+    ALB. Good sir, walk with me but where you [may] see
+    The shadowing elms, within whose circling round
+    There is a holy spring about encompass'd
+    By dandling sycamores and violets,
+    Whose waters cure all human maladies.
+    Few drops thereof, being sprinkl'd on your temples,
+    Revives your fading memory, and restores
+    Your senses lost unto their perfect being.
+
+    CAR. Is it clear water, sir, and very fresh?
+    For I am thirsty, [which] gives it a better relish
+    Than a cup of dead wine with flies in't?
+
+    ALB. Most pleasant to the taste; pray, will you go?
+
+    CAR. Faster than you, I believe, sir.               [_Exeunt._
+
+_Enter_ MARIA.
+
+    MAR. I am walk'd forth from my preserver's cave,
+    To search about these woods, only to see
+    The penitent Albert, whose repentant mind
+    Each tree expresseth. O, that some power divine
+    Would hither send my virtuous Carracus!
+    Not for my own content, but that he might
+    See how his distress'd friend repents the wrong,
+    Which his rash folly, most unfortunate,
+    Acted 'gainst him and me; which I forgive
+    A hundred times a day, for that more often
+    My eyes are witness to his sad complaints.
+    How the good hermit seems to share his moans,
+    Which in the daytime he deplores 'mongst trees,
+    And in the night his cave is fill'd with sighs;
+    No other bed doth his weak limbs support
+    Than the cold earth; no other harmony
+    To rock his cares asleep but blustering winds,
+    Or some swift current, headlong rushing down
+    From a high mountain's top, pouring his force
+    Into the ocean's gulf, where being swallow'd,
+    Seems to bewail his fall with hideous words:
+    No other sustentation to suffice,
+    What nature claims, but raw, unsavoury roots
+    With troubled waters, where untamed beasts
+    Do bathe themselves.
+
+_Enter Satyrs, dance, et exeunt._
+
+    Ah me! what things are these?
+    What pretty harmless things they seem to be!
+    As if delight had nowhere made abode,
+    But in their nimble sport.
+
+_Enter_ ALBERT [_and_ CARRACUS.]
+
+    Yonder's the courteous hermit, and with him
+    Albert, it seems. O, see, 'tis Carracus!
+    Joy, do not now confound me!
+
+    CAR. Thanks unto heavens and thee, thou holy man,
+    I have attain'd what doth adorn man's being,
+    That precious gem of reason, by which solely
+    We are discern'd from rude and brutish beasts,
+    No other difference being 'twixt us and them.
+    How to repay this more than earthly kindness
+    Lies not within my power, but in his,
+    That hath indu'd thee with celestial gifts,
+    To whom I'll pray, he may bestow on thee
+    What thou deserv'st, bless'd immortality.
+
+    ALB. Which unto you befall, thereof most worthy.
+    But, virtuous sir, what I will now request
+    From your true generous nature is, that you would
+    Be pleas'd to pardon that repentant wight,
+    Whose sinful story upon yon tree's bark
+    Yourself did read, for that you say, to you
+    Those wrongs were done.
+
+    CAR. Indeed they were, and to a dear wife lost;
+    Yet I forgive him, as I wish the heavens
+    May pardon me.
+
+    MAR. So doth Maria too.              [_She discovers herself._
+
+    CAR. Lives my Maria, then? what gracious planet
+    Gave thee safe conduct to these desert woods?
+
+    MAR. My late mishap (repented now by all,
+    And therefore pardon'd) compell'd me to fly,
+    Where I had perished for want of food,
+    Had not this courteous man awak'd my sense,
+    In which death's self had partly interest.
+
+    CAR. Alas, Maria! I am so far indebted
+    To him already for the late recovery of
+    My own weakness, that 'tis impossible
+    For us to attribute sufficient thanks
+    For such abundant good.
+
+    ALB. I rather ought to thank the heaven's Creator
+    That he vouchsaf'd me such especial grace,
+    In doing so small a good; which could I hourly
+    Bestow on all, yet could I not assuage
+    The swelling rancour of my fore-pass'd crimes.
+
+    CAR. O sir, despair not; for your course of life
+    (Were your sins far more odious than they be)
+    Doth move compassion and pure clemency
+    In the all-ruling judge, whose powerful mercy
+    O'ersways his justice, and extends itself
+    To all repentant minds. He's happier far
+    That sins, and can repent him of his sin,
+    Than the self-justifier, who doth surmise
+    By his own works to gain salvation;
+    Seeming to reach at heaven, he clasps damnation.
+    You then are happy, and our penitent friend,
+    To whose wish'd presence please you now to bring us,
+    That in our gladsome arms we may enfold
+    His much-esteemed person, and forgive
+    The injuries of his rash follies pass'd.
+
+    ALB. Then see false Albert prostrate at your feet,
+                                          [_He discovers himself._
+    Desiring justice for his heinous ill.
+
+    CAR. Is it you? Albert's self that hath preserv'd us?
+    O bless'd bewailer of thy misery!
+
+    MARIA. And wofull'st liver in calamity!
+
+    CAR. From which, right worthy friend, 'tis now high time
+    You be releas'd; come then, you shall with us.
+    Our first and chiefest welcome, my Maria,
+    We shall receive at your good father's house;
+    Who, as I do remember, in my frenzy
+    Sent a kind letter, which desir'd our presence.
+
+    ALB. So please you, virtuous pair, Albert will stay,
+    And spend the remnant of this wearisome life
+    In these dark woods.
+
+    CAR. Then you neglect the comforts heav'n doth send
+    To your abode on earth. If you stay here,
+    Your life may end in torture by the cruelty
+    Of some wild ravenous beasts; but if 'mongst men,
+    When you depart, the faithful prayers of many
+    Will much avail to crown your soul with bliss.
+
+    ALB. Lov'd Carracus, I have found in thy converse
+    Comfort so bless'd, that nothing now but death
+    Shall cause a separation in our being.
+
+    MARIA. Which heaven confirm!
+
+    CAR. Thus by the breach of faith our friendship's knit
+    In stronger bonds of love.
+
+    ALB. Heaven so continue it!                         [_Exeunt._
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+
+  [387] The 4º reads _His_.
+
+  [388] The 4º has it literally thus--
+
+      "To _taste_ a _vale_ of death _in_ wicked livers,"
+
+  which Mr Reed altered to _cast a veil_, &c; but ought we not rather to
+  read--
+
+      "To _cast_ a _veil_ of death _on_ wicked livers."
+
+  --_Collier._
+
+  [389] [Old copy, _them brats_.]
+
+  [390] These four lines, which decidedly belong to Maria, in the old
+  copy are assigned to Albert, and form a part of what he says
+  before.--_Collier._
+
+  [391: The idea of these answers from an echo seems to have been taken
+  from Lord Stirling's "Aurora," 4º, 1604, sig. K 4. One of the
+  triumvirate, Pope, Gay, or Arbuthnot, but which of them is not known,
+  in a piece printed in Swift's "Miscellanies," may have been indebted
+  for the same thought to either Lord Stirling or the present writer.
+
+  Since this note was written, I find nothing was more common than these
+  answers of echoes in the works of contemporary and earlier writers.
+  Many instances might be produced. Amongst others, those who can be
+  pleased with such kind of performances may be referred to Sir P.
+  Sidney's "Arcadia," or Lodge's "Wounds of Civil War," 1594, act iii.
+  The folly of them is admirably ridiculed by the author of
+  "Hudibras."--_Reed._
+
+  [392] [Edit., _Of_.]
+
+  [393] A dance.
+
+
+
+
+ACTUS QUINTUS.
+
+
+_Enter_ HOG _in his chamber, with_ REBECCA _laying down his bed, and,
+seeming to put the keys under his bolster, conveyeth them into her
+pocket_.
+
+    HOG. So, have you laid the keys of the outward doors
+    Under my bolster?
+
+    REB. Yes, forsooth.
+
+    HOG. Go your way to bed then.                 [_Exit_ REBECCA.
+    I wonder who did at the first invent
+    These beds, the breeders of disease and sloth:
+    He was no soldier, sure, nor no scholar,
+    And yet he might be very well a courtier;
+    For no good husband would have been so idle,
+    No usurer neither: yet here the bed affords
+                                            [_Discovers his gold._
+    Store of sweet golden slumbers unto him.
+    Here sleeps command in war; Cæsar by this
+    Obtain'd his triumphs; this will fight man's cause,
+    When fathers, brethren, and the near'st of friends
+    Leave to assist him; all content to this
+    Is merely vain; the lovers, whose affections
+    Do sympathise together in full pleasure,
+    Debarr'd of this, their summer sudden ends;
+    And care, the winter to their former joys,
+    Breathes such a cold blast on their turtles' bills:
+    Having not this, to shroud them[394] forth his storms,
+    They straight are forc'd to make a separation,
+    And so live under those that rule o'er this.
+    The gallant, whose illustrious outside draws
+    The eyes of wantons to behold with wonder
+    His rare-shap'd parts, for so he thinks they be,
+    Deck'd in the robes of glistering gallantry;
+    Having not this attendant on his person,
+    Walks with a cloudy brow, and seems to all
+    A great contemner of society;
+    Not for the hate he bears to company,
+    But for the want of this ability.
+    O silver! thou that art the basest captive
+    Kept in this prison, how many pale offenders
+    For thee have suffer'd ruin? But, O my gold!
+    Thy sight's more pleasing than the seemly locks
+    Of yellow-hair'd Apollo; and thy touch
+    More smooth and dainty than the down-soft white
+    Of lady's tempting breast: thy bright aspect
+    Dims the great'st lustre of heaven's waggoner.
+    But why go I about to extol thy worth,
+    Knowing that poets cannot compass it?
+    But now give place, my gold; for here's a power
+    Of greater glory and supremacy
+    Obscures thy being; here sits enthronis'd
+    The sparkling diamond, whose bright reflection
+    Casts such a splendour on these other gems,
+    'Mongst which he so majestical appears,
+    As if---- Now my good angels guard me!
+        [_A flash of fire, and_ LIGHTFOOT _ascends like a spirit_.
+
+    LIGHT. _Melior vigilantia somno_.
+    Stand not amaz'd, good man, for what appears
+    Shall add to thy content; be void of fears:
+    I am the shadow of rich kingly Croesus,
+    Sent by his greatness from the lower world
+    To make thee mighty, and to sway on earth
+    By thy abundant store, as he himself doth
+    In Elysium; how he reigneth there,
+    His shadow will unfold; give thou then ear.
+    In under-air, where fair Elysium stands,
+    Beyond the river styled Acheron,
+    He hath a castle built of adamant;
+    Not fram'd by vain enchantment, but there fix'd
+    By the all-burning hands of warlike spirits:
+    Whose windows are compos'd of purest crystal,
+    And deck'd within with oriental pearls:
+    There the great spirit of Croesus' royal self
+    Keeps his abode in joyous happiness.
+    He is not tortur'd there, as poets feign,
+    With molten gold and sulphury flames of fire,
+    Or any such molesting perturbation;
+    But there reputed as a demigod,
+    Feasting with Pluto and his Proserpine,
+    Night after night with all delicious cates,
+    With greater glory than seven kingdoms' states.
+    Now farther know the cause of my appearance--
+    The kingly Croesus having by fame's trump
+    Heard that thy lov'd desires stand affected
+    To the obtaining of abundant wealth,
+    Sends me, his shade, thus much to signify,
+    That if thou wilt become famous on earth,
+    He'll give to thee even more than infinite;
+    And after death with him thou shalt partake
+    The rare delights beyond the Stygian lake.
+
+    HOG. Great Croesus' shadow may dispose of me
+    To what he pleaseth.
+
+    LIGHT. So speaks obediency.
+    For which I'll raise thy lowly thoughts as high,
+    As Croesus's were in his mortality.
+    Stand then undaunted, whilst I raise those spirits,
+    By whose laborious task and industry
+    Thy treasure shall abound and multiply.
+    _Ascend, Ascarion, thou that art
+    A powerful spirit, and dost convert
+    Silver to gold; I say, ascend
+    And on me, Croesus' shade, attend,
+    To work the pleasure of his will._
+
+_The_ PLAYER _appears_.
+
+    PLAYER. What, would then Croesus list to fill
+    Some mortal's coffers up with gold,
+    Changing the silver it doth hold?
+    By that pure metal, if't be so,
+    By the infernal gates I swear,
+    Where Rhadamanth doth domineer;
+    By Croesus' name and by his castle,
+    Where winter nights he keepeth wassail;[395]
+    By Demogorgon and the fates,
+    And by all these low-country states;
+    That after knowledge of thy mind,
+    Ascarion, like the swift-pac'd wind,
+    Will fly to finish thy command.
+
+    LIGHT. Take, then, this silver out of hand,
+    And bear it to the river Tagus,
+    Beyond th' abode of Archi-Magus;
+    Whose golden sands upon it cast,
+    Transform it into gold at last:
+    Which being effected straight return,
+    And sudden, too, or I will spurn
+    This trunk of thine into the pit,
+    Where all the hellish furies sit,
+    Scratching their eyes out. Quick, begone!
+
+    PLAYER. Swifter in course than doth the sun.   [_Exit_ PLAYER.
+
+    LIGHT. How far'st thou, mortal? be not terrifi'd
+    At these infernal motions; know that shortly
+    Great Croesus' ghost shall, in the love he bears thee,
+    Give thee sufficient power by thy own worth
+    To raise such spirits.
+
+    HOG. Croesus is much too liberal in his favour
+    To one so far desertless as poor Hog.
+
+    LIGHT. Poor Hog! O, speak not that word poor again,
+    Lest the whole apple-tree of Croesus' bounty,
+    Crack'd into shivers, overthrow thy fortunes!
+    For he abhors the name of poverty,
+    And will grow sick to hear it spoke by those
+    Whom he intends to raise. But see, the twilight,
+    Posting before the chariot of the sun,
+    Brings word of his approach:
+    We must be sudden, and with speed raise up
+    The spirit Bazan, that can straight transform
+    Gold into pearl; be still and circumspect.
+    _Bazan, ascend up from the treasure
+    Of Pluto, where thou dost[396] at pleasure
+    Metamorphose all his gold
+    Into pearl, which 'bove a thousand-fold
+    Exceeds the value: quickly rise
+    To Croesus' shade, who hath a prize
+    To be performed by thy strength._
+
+[BAZAN _or_] HADDIT _ascends_.
+
+    HAD. I am no fencer, yet at length
+    From Pluto's presence and the hall,
+    Where Proserpine keeps festival,
+    I'm hither come; and now I see,
+    To what intent I'm rais'd by thee;
+    It is to make that mortal rich,
+    That at his fame men's ears may itch,
+    When they do hear but of his store.
+    He hath one daughter and no more,
+    Which all the lower powers decree,
+    She to one Wealthy wedded be;
+    By which conjunction there shall spring
+    Young heirs to Hog, whereon to fling
+    His mass of treasure when he dies;
+    Thus Bazan truly prophesies.
+    But come, my task! I long to rear
+    His fame above the hemisphere.
+
+    LIGHT. Take then the gold which here doth lie,
+    And quick return it by and by
+    All in choice pearl. Whither to go,
+    I need not tell you, for you know.
+
+    HAD. Indeed I do, and Hog shall find it so.    [_Exit_ HADDIT.
+
+    LIGHT. Now, mortal, there is nothing doth remain
+    'Twixt thee and thine abundance, only this:
+    Turn thy eyes eastward, for from thence appears
+    Ascarion with thy gold, which having brought
+    And at thy foot surrender'd, make obeisance;
+    Then turn about, and fix thy tapers westward,
+    From whence great Bazan brings thy orient pearl;
+    Who'll lay it at thy feet much like the former.
+
+    HOG. Then I must make to him obeisance thus?
+
+    LIGHT. Why, so; in meantime, Croesus' shade will rest
+    Upon thy bed: but above all, take heed
+    You suffer not your eyes to stray aside
+    From the direct point I have set thee at:
+    For though the spirit do delay the time,
+    And not return your treasure speedily----
+
+    HOG. Let the loss light on me, if I neglect
+    Or overslip what Croesus' shade commands.[397]
+
+LIGHT. [_Aside._] So, now practise standing, though it be nothing
+agreeable to your Hog's age. Let me see, among these writings is my
+nephew Haddit's mortgage; but in taking that it may breed suspect on us;
+wherefore this box of jewels will stand far better, and let that alone.
+It is now break of day, and near by this the marriage is confirmed
+betwixt my cousin and great Croesus's friend's daughter here, whom I
+will now leave to his most weighty cogitations.
+
+    So, gentle sir, adieu; time not permits
+    To hear those passions and those frantic fits
+    You're subject to, when you shall find how true
+    Great Croesus' shade hath made an ass of you.         [_Exit._
+
+HOG. Let me now ruminate to myself why Croesus should be so great a
+favourer to me. And yet to what end should I desire to know? I think it
+is sufficient it is so. And I would he had been so sooner, for he and
+his spirits would have saved me much labour in the purchasing of wealth;
+but then indeed it would have been the confusion of two or three
+scriveners which, by my means, have been properly raised. But now
+imagine this only a trick, whereby I may be gulled! But how can that
+be? Are not my doors locked? Have I not seen with my own eyes the
+ascending of the spirits? Have I not heard with my own ears the
+invocation wherewith they were raised? Could any but spirits appear
+through so firm a floor as this is? 'Tis impossible. But hark! I hear
+the spirit Ascarion coming with my gold. O bountiful Croesus! I'll build
+a temple to thy mightiness!
+
+_Enter_ YOUNG LORD WEALTHY _and_ PETER SERVITUDE.
+
+Y. LORD W. O Peter, how long have we slept upon the hogshead?
+
+P. SER. I think a dozen hours, my lord, and 'tis nothing. I'll undertake
+to sleep sixteen, upon the receipt of two cups of muskadine.[398]
+
+Y. LORD W. I marvel what's become of Haddit and Lightfoot!
+
+P. SER. Hang 'em, flinchers; they slunk away as soon as they had drank
+as much as they were able to carry, which no generous spirit would ha'
+done, indeed.
+
+Y. LORD W. Yet I believe Haddit had his part, for, to my thinking, the
+cellar went round with him when he left us. But are we come to a bed
+yet? I must needs sleep.
+
+P. SER. Come softly by any means, for we are now upon the threshold of
+my master's chamber, through which I'll bring you to Mistress Rebecca's
+lodging. Give me your hand, and come very nicely.
+
+                                     [PETER _falls into the hole_.
+
+Y. LORD W. Where art, Peter?
+
+P. SER. O, O!
+
+Y. LORD W. Where's this noise, Peter? canst tell?
+
+HOG. I hear the voice of my adopted son-in-law.
+
+Y. LORD W. Why, Peter, wilt not answer me?
+
+P. SER. O, my Lord above, stand still; I'm fallen down at least thirty
+fathom deep. If you stand not still till I recover, and have lighted a
+candle, you're but a dead man.
+
+HOG. I am robb'd, I am undone, I am deluded! Who's in my chamber?
+
+Y. LORD W. 'Tis I, the lord your son, that shall be; upon my honour, I
+came not to rob you.
+
+HOG. I shall run mad! I shall run mad!
+
+Y. LORD W. Why, then, 'tis my fortune to be terrified with madmen.
+
+_Enter_ PETER SERVITUDE, _with a candle_.
+
+P. SER. Where are you, my lord?
+
+HOG. Here, my lady. Where are you, rogue, when thieves break into my
+house?
+
+P. SER. Breaking my neck in your service--a plague on't!
+
+Y. LORD W. But are you robbed, indeed, father Hog? Of how much, I pray?
+
+HOG. Of all, of all! See here, they have left me nothing but two or
+three rolls of parchment; here they came up like spirits, and took my
+silver, gold, and jewels. Where's my daughter?
+
+P. SER. She's not in the house, sir. The street-doors are wide open.
+
+Y. LORD W. Nay, 'tis no matter where she is now. She'll scarce be worth
+a thousand pound, and that's but a tailor's prize.[399]
+
+HOG. Then you'll not have her, sir?
+
+Y. LORD W. No, as I hope to live in peace.
+
+HOG. Why, be't so, be't so; confusion cannot come in a fitter time on
+all of us. O bountiful Croesus! how fine thy shadow hath devoured my
+substance!
+
+P. SER. Good my lord, promise him to marry his daughter, or he will be
+mad presently, though you never intend to have her.
+
+Y. LORD W. Well, father Hog, though you are undone, your daughter shall
+not be, so long as a lord can stand her in any stead. Come, you shall
+with me to my lord and father, whose warrants we will have for the
+apprehending of all suspicious livers; and, though the labour be
+infinite, you must consider your loss is so.
+
+    HOG. Come, I'll do anything to gain my gold.
+
+    P. SER. Till which be had, my fare will be but cold.
+                                                        [_Exeunt._
+
+_Enter_ HADDIT, REBECCA, LIGHTFOOT, _and_ PRIEST.
+
+HAD. Now, Master Parson, we will no further trouble you; and, for the
+tying of our true love-knot, here's a small amends.
+
+    PRIEST. 'Tis more than due, sir; yet I'll take it all.
+    Should kindness be despis'd, goodwill would fall
+    Unto a lower ebb, should we detest
+    The grateful giver's gift, _verissimo est_.
+
+    HAD. It's true, indeed; good morrow, honest parson.
+
+    PRIEST. Yet, if you please, sir John will back surrender
+    The overplus of what you now did tender.
+
+    HAD. O, by no means; I prythee, friend, good morrow.
+
+    LIGHT. Why. if you please, sir John, to me restore
+    The overplus: I'll give it to the poor.
+
+    PRIEST. O, pardon, sir, for, by your worship's leave,
+    We ought to give from whence we do receive.
+
+    HAD. Why, then, to me, sir John.
+
+    PRIEST. To all a kind good-morrow.             [_Exit_ PRIEST.
+
+HAD. A most fine vicar; there was no other means to be rid of him. But
+why are you so sad, Rebecca?
+
+    REB. To think in what estate my father is,
+    When he beholds that he is merely gull'd.
+
+HAD. Nay, be not grieved for that which should rather give you cause of
+content; for 'twill be a means to make him abandon his avarice, and save
+a soul almost incurable. But now to our own affairs: this marriage of
+ours must not yet be known, lest it breed suspicion. We will bring you,
+Rebecca, unto Atlas's house, whilst we two go unto the old Lord
+Wealthy's, having some acquaintance with his son-in-law Carracus, who I
+understand is there; where no question but we shall find your father
+proclaiming his loss: thither you shall come somewhat after us, as it
+were to seek him; where I doubt not but so to order the matter, that I
+will receive you as my wife from his own hands.
+
+REB. May it so happy prove!
+
+LIGHT. Amen, say I; for, should our last trick be known, great Croesus's
+shade would have a conjured time on't.
+
+HAD. 'Tis true, his castle of adamant would scarce hold him; but come,
+this will be good cause for laughter hereafter.
+
+    Then we'll relate how this great bird was pull'd
+    Of his rich feathers, and most finely gull'd.       [_Exeunt._
+
+_Enter_ OLD LORD WEALTHY, _with_ CARRACUS, MARIA, _and_ ALBERT.
+
+    O. LORD W. More welcome, Carracus, than friendly truce
+    To a besieged city all distress'd:
+    How early this glad morning are you come
+    To make me happy? for pardon of your offence
+    I've given a blessing, which may heaven confirm
+    In treble manner on your virtuous lives!
+
+    CAR. And may our lives and duty daily strive
+    To be found worthy of that loving favour,
+    Which from your reverend age we now receive
+    Without desert or merit!
+
+_Enter_ YOUNG LORD WEALTHY, HOG, _and_ PETER.
+
+    Y. LORD W. Room for a desirer of justice! what, my sister
+    Maria! who thought to have met you here.
+
+MARIA. You may see, brother, unlooked-for guests prove often
+troublesome.
+
+Y. LORD W. Well, but is your husband there any quieter than he was?
+
+CAR. Sir, I must desire you to forget all injuries, if, in not being
+myself, I offered you any.
+
+ALB. I'll see that peace concluded.
+
+    Y. LORD W. Which I agree to;
+    For patience is a virtue, father Hog.
+
+O. LORD W. Was it you, son, that cried so loud for justice?
+
+Y. LORD W. Yes, marry was it, and this the party to whom it appertains.
+
+HOG. O, my most honoured lord, I am undone, robbed, this black night, of
+all the wealth and treasure which these many years I have hourly
+laboured for.
+
+O. LORD W. And who are those have done this outrage to you?
+
+HOG. O, knew I that, I then, my lord, were happy.
+
+O. LORD W. Come you for justice then, not knowing 'gainst whom the
+course of justice should extend itself? Nor yet suspect you none?
+
+HOG. None but the devil.
+
+Y. LORD W. I thought he was a cheater, e'er since I heard two or three
+Templars[400] swear at dice, the last Christmas, that the devil had got
+all.
+
+_Enter_ HADDIT _and_ LIGHTFOOT.
+
+HAD. My kind acquaintance, joy to thy good success.
+
+CAR. Noble and freeborn Haddit, welcome.
+
+LIGHT. Master Hog, good day.
+
+HOG. [Good day], for I have had a bad night on't.
+
+LIGHT. Sickness is incident to age: what, be the writings ready to be
+sealed we entreated last day?
+
+HOG. Yes, I think they are; would the scrivener were paid for making
+them.
+
+LIGHT. He shall be so, though I do't myself. Is the money put up, as I
+appointed?
+
+    HOG. Yes, 'tis put up: confusion seize the receivers!
+
+    LIGHT. Heaven bless us all! what mean you, sir?
+
+    HOG. O sir, I was robb'd this night of all I had;
+    My daughter too is lost, and I undone.
+
+    LIGHT. Marry, God forbid! after what manner, I pray?
+
+    HOG. O, to recount, sir, will breed more ruth
+    Than did the tale of that high Trojan duke[401]
+    To the sad-fated Carthaginian queen.
+
+    HAD. What exclamation's that?
+
+    LIGHT. What you will grieve at, coz;
+    Your worshipful friend, Master Hog, is robb'd.
+
+    HAD. Robb'd! by whom, or how?
+
+    LIGHT. O, there's the grief: he knows not whom to suspect.
+
+HAD. The fear of hell o'ertake them, whosoe'er they be. But where's your
+daughter? I hope she is safe.
+
+_Enter_ REBECCA.
+
+HOG. Thank heaven, I see she's now so. Where hast thou been, my girl?
+
+REB. Alas! sir, carried by amazement I know not where; pursued by the
+robbers, forced to fly amazed, affrighted, through the city streets, to
+seek redress; but that lay fast asleep in all men's houses, nor would
+lend an ear to the distressed.
+
+    HAD. O heavy accident! but see, you grieve too much,
+    Being your daughter's found, for th' other loss,
+    Since 'tis the will of heaven to give and take,
+    Value it as nothing: you have yet sufficient
+    To live in bless'd content, had you no more
+    But my small mortgage for your daughter here,
+    Whom I have ever lov'd in dear'st affection.
+    If so you please so much to favour me,
+    I will accept her, spite of poverty,
+    And make her jointure of some store of land,
+    Which, by the loss of a good aged friend,
+    Late fell to me: what, is't a match or no?
+
+    HOG. It is.
+
+    HAD. Then I'll have witness on't: my lord and gentlemen,
+    Please you draw near to be here witnesses
+    To a wish'd contract 'twixt this maid and I.
+
+    OMNES. We are all willing.
+
+HOG. Then, in the presence of you all, I give my daughter freely to this
+gentleman as wife; and to show how much I stand affected to him, for
+dowry with her, I do back restore his mortgaged lands; and, for their
+loves, I vow ever hereafter to detest, renounce, loathe, and abhor all
+slavish avarice,
+
+    Which doth ascend from hell, sent by the devil,
+    To be 'mongst men the actor of all evil.
+
+    OMNES. A bless'd conversion.
+
+    O. LORD W. A good far unexpected. And now, gentlemen,
+    I do invite you all to feast with me
+    This happy day, that we may all together
+    Applaud his good success: and let this day be spent
+    In sports and shows, with gladsome merriment.
+    Come, bless'd converted man,[402] we'll lead the way,
+    As unto heaven I hope we shall.
+
+    HOG. Heaven grant we may!
+
+    CAR. Come, my Maria and repentant friend,
+    We three have tasted worst of misery,
+    Which now adds joy to our felicity.
+
+    HAD. We three are happy we have gain'd much wealth,
+    And though we have done it by a trick of stealth,
+    Yet all, I trust, are pleased, and will our ills acquit,
+    Since it hath sav'd a soul was hell's by right.
+
+    Y. LORD W. To follow after, then, our lot doth fall;
+    Now rhyme it, Peter.
+
+    P. SER. A good night to all.                  [_Exeunt omnes._
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+  [394] [Old copy, _him_.]
+
+  [395] Verstegan, in his "Restitution of Decayed Intelligence," 1634,
+  p. 126, gives the following account of the origin of this term: "As
+  this Lady (_i.e._, Rowena) was very beautiful, so was she of a very
+  comely deportment, and Hingistus, having invited King Vortiger to a
+  supper at his new-builded castle, caused that after supper she came
+  foorth of her chamber into the King's presence, with a cup of gold
+  filled with wine in her hand, and making in very seemly manner a low
+  reverence unto the King, sayd, with a pleasing grace and countenance,
+  in our ancient language, _Waes heal hlaford Cyning,_ which is, being
+  rightly expounded according to our present speech, _Be of health, Lord
+  King_, for as _was_ is our verbe of the preterimperfect tense, or
+  preterperfect tense, signifying _have bin_, so _was_ being the same
+  verb in the imperative mood, and now pronounced _wax_, is as much as
+  to say _grow, be_, or _become;_ and _waes-heal_, by corruption of
+  pronunciation, afterwards became to be _wassaile_. The King not
+  understanding what shee said, demaunded it of his chamberlaine, who
+  was his interpreter, and when he knew what it was, he asked him how he
+  might againe answer her in her owne language, whereof being informed,
+  he sayd unto her _Drinc heal_, that is to say, _Drink health_."--See
+  also a note to "The Ordinary," in vol. xii.
+
+  [396] _Didst_ in the old copy, where these lines are printed as a
+  stage direction.
+
+  [397] The 4º reads--
+
+      "I overslip what Croesus _suit_ command."
+
+  --_Collier._
+
+  [398] Or muscadel. A kind of wine so called, because for sweetness and
+  smell it resembles musk. "From Bosco Helerno we soon came to
+  Montefiascone, standing upon a hill. It's a bishop's seate, and
+  _famous for excellent Muscatello wine_," &c.--Lassells' "Voiage of
+  Italy," 8º, 1670, 244.--_Gilchrist._
+
+  [399] [Referring to some tale of the day. Compare p. 468.]
+
+  [400] See note to "A Match at Midnight," act i. sc. i. (vol. xiii.)
+
+  [401] Æneas.
+
+  [402] [Meaning Hog.]
+
+
+
+
+EPILOGUE
+
+
+    Now expectation hath, at full receiv'd,
+    What we late promised; if in aught we've pleas'd,
+    'Tis all we sought t'accomplish; and much more
+    Than our weak merit dares to attribute
+    Unto itself, till you vouchsafe to deign,
+    In your kind censure, so to gratify
+    Our trivial labours.----
+    If it hath pleased the judicial ear,
+    We have our author's wish; and, void of fear,
+    Dare ignorant men to show their worst of hate,
+    It not detracts, but adds unto that state
+    Where desert flourisheth.
+    We'll rest applauded in their derogation,
+    Though with a hiss they crown that confirmation.
+    For this our author saith, if't prove distasteful,
+    He only grieves you spent two hours so wasteful;
+    But if it like,[403] and you affect his pen,
+    You may command it, when you please, again.
+
+  [403] _If it like_ is a very common old expression for _if it please;_
+  but Mr Reed allowed it to be altered to the vulgarism of _if it's
+  liked_.
+
+
+
+
+THE HEIR.
+
+
+
+
+_EDITION._
+
+
+    _The Heire. A Comedie. As it was acted by the Company of the
+    Revels. 1620. Written by T.M. London, Printed by Augustine
+    Mathewes, for Thomas Iones, and are to be sold at his shop in S.
+    Dunstans Church-yard in Fleetstreet._ 1633. 4º.[404]
+
+
+  [404] There are two title-pages to this comedy in the year 1633, but
+  they are both the same edition. The one has the words _the second
+  impression_ upon it; the other is without them; but in all other
+  respects they are precisely similar. Whether the performance did not
+  sell well in the first instance, and the stationer resorted to this
+  expedient to get rid of copies remaining on hand, must be matter of
+  conjecture only.--_Collier._
+
+
+
+
+INTRODUCTION TO THE FORMER EDITION.
+
+
+Thomas May was the son of Sir Thomas May, of Mayfield, in the county of
+Sussex, Knight, a gentleman of an ancient and honourable family.[405] He
+was born in the year 1595, and received his early education in the
+neighbourhood of his birthplace; thence he was removed to Sidney-Sussex
+College in Cambridge, and took the degree of B.A. in 1612. On the 6th of
+August 1615, he was admitted into the society of Gray's-Inn, and soon
+after became celebrated for his poetical performances.
+
+Lord Clarendon,[406] with whom he was intimately acquainted, says "that
+his father spent the fortune which he was born to, so that he had only
+an annuity left him not proportionable to a liberal education; yet,
+since his fortune could not raise his mind, he brought his mind down to
+his fortune by a great modesty and humility in his nature, which was not
+affected, but very well became an imperfection in his speech, which was
+a great mortification to him, and kept him from entering upon any
+discourse but in the company of his very friends. His parts of nature
+and art were very good, as appears by his translation of Lucan (none of
+the easiest work of that kind), and more by his Supplement to Lucan
+which, being entirely his own, for the learning, the wit and the
+language, may be well looked upon as one of the best epic poems in the
+English language. He writ some other commendable pieces of the reign of
+some of our kings. He was cherished by many persons of honour, and very
+acceptable in all places; yet (to show that pride and envy have their
+influences upon the narrowest minds, and which have the greatest
+semblance of humility) though he had received much countenance, and a
+very considerable donative from the king, upon his majesty's refusing to
+give him a small pension,[407] which he had designed and promised to
+another very ingenious person, whose qualities he thought inferior to
+his own, he fell from his duty and all his former friends, and
+prostituted himself to the vile office[408] of celebrating the infamous
+acts of those who were in rebellion against the king; which he did so
+meanly, that he seemed to all men to have lost his wits when he left his
+honesty, and shortly after died miserable and neglected, and deserves to
+be forgotten."
+
+He died suddenly on the night of the 13th of November 1650, after having
+drank his cheerful bottle as usual. The cause of his death is said to
+have arisen from the tying of his nightcap too close under his chin,
+which occasioned a suffocation when he turned himself about.
+
+He was buried, by appointment of the Parliament, in a splendid manner,
+in the south aisle of Westminster Abbey, where a monument to his memory
+was erected, with a Latin inscription thereon, composed by Marchemont
+Needham, which remained there until the Restoration, when it was
+destroyed, and his body dug up, and buried in a large pit belonging to
+St Margaret's Church, with many others who had been interred in the
+abbey during the Interregnum.
+
+He was the author of the following dramatic pieces--
+
+1. "The Tragedy of Antigone the Theban princesse." 8º. 1631.
+
+2. "The Heire: a Comedy: acted by the Company of the Revels, 1620." 4º.
+1633.
+
+3. "The Tragedy of Julia Agrippina, Empress of Rome." 12º. 1639. 12º.
+1654.
+
+4. "The Tragedy of Cleopatra, Queen of Ægypt." 12º. 1639. 12º. 1654.
+
+5. "The Old Couple: a Comedy." 4º. 1658.
+
+He also wrote "The reign of king Henry the Second," and "The victorious
+reign of Edward the Third,"[409] both in English verse; and translated,
+besides Lucan, the "Georgics" of Virgil, the "Epigrams" of Martial, the
+"Icon Animorum" by Barclay, and the verses in the "Argenis" of the same
+author. He likewise was the author of "The History of the Parliament of
+England, which began November 3, 1640, with a short and necessary view
+of some precedent years." Folio. 1647.[410]
+
+The following inscription[411] was made upon him by one of the Cavalier
+party, which he had abused--
+
+
+          Adsta, Viator, et Poetam legas
+                  Lucani interpretem,
+        Quem ita feliciter Anglicanum fecerat,
+      Ut Mayus simul et Lucanus videretur,
+          Et sane credas Metempsuchosin:
+      Nam uterque ingratus Principis sui Proditor;
+    Hic Neronis Tyranni, ille Caroli Regum optimi,
+                  At fata planè diversa;
+      Lucanum enim ante obitum poenitentem legis,
+        Mayus vero repentina morte occubuit,
+                  Ne forsan poeniteret.
+      Parliamentia Rebellis tam pertinax adstipulator,
+       Ut Musarum, quas olim religiose coluerat,
+           Sacrilegus Hostis evaserit:
+       Attamen fingendi artem non penitus amisit,
+       Nam gesta eorum scripsit et typis mandavit
+              In prosâ mendax Poeta.
+        Inter tot Heroas Poetarum, Nobiliumque,
+         Quod tam indigni sepeliantur Cineres,
+                  Videntur fiere Marmora.
+       Nec tamen mirere cum hic Rebelles posuisse,
+          Qui tot sacras Ædes, et Dei delubra,
+                  Equis fecere Stabula.
+
+[A MS. note in one of the former editions says: "This
+comedy is full of most palpable imitations of Shakespeare and others,
+but it is very pleasingly, and even elegantly, written in many parts."]
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+  [405] "Thomas May, father of the poet, purchased Mayfield Place, in
+  Sussex (formerly an archiepiscopal palace, and afterwards the seat of
+  the Greshams), of Henry Neville, of Billingbere, Berks, in 1597. He
+  was knighted at Greenwich, July 3, 1603, and died 1616. He was father
+  to Thomas May, the celebrated poet and historian, by whom Mayfield was
+  aliened from the family in 1617: his mother, Joan May, and cousin,
+  Richard May, of Islington, gent. joining with him in the conveyance to
+  John Baker, Esq., whose descendants have ever since enjoyed
+  it."--Nichols's "Leicestershire," iii. 156, note.--_Gilchrist._]
+
+  [406] Life, edit. 1759, p. 35.]
+
+  [407] Some writers suppose he was disgusted that Sir William Davenant
+  was appointed to succeed Ben Jonson as poet laureate, in the year
+  1637.]
+
+  [408] He was appointed to the post of Historiographer by the
+  Parliament.]
+
+  [409] This poem was dedicated to Charles I. in 1635; hence it appears
+  that he wrote it by command of the king. "Those defects," he says,
+  "whatsoever they be, can be imputed only to insufficiency, for neither
+  was there argument wanting nor yet endeavour, since I had the actions
+  of a great king to require my skill, and the command of a greater king
+  to oblige my care."--_Collier._]
+
+  [410] Thomas May has a complimentary poem prefixed to Pilkinton's
+  "Tournament of Tottenham," &c. 4º. 1631.--_Gilchrist._]
+
+  [411] The subsequent lines are found in "Wit's Recreations," 1641--
+
+
+                "TO MR. THOMAS MAY.
+
+      "Thou son of Mercury, whose fluent tongue
+       Made Lucan finish his Pharsalian song,
+       Thy fame is equal, better is thy fate,
+       Thou hast got Charles his love, he Nero's hate."
+
+  Of course this was before (as Lord Clarendon expresses it) "he fell
+  from his duty."--_Collier._
+
+
+
+
+THE NAMES OF THE ACTORS.
+
+
+    THE KING.
+    VIRRO, _an old rich count._
+    POLYMETES, _an old lord_.
+    EUGENIO, _his son_.
+    LEOCOTHOE, _his daughter_.
+    ROSCIO, _his man_.
+    EUPHUES, _another lord_.
+    PHILOCLES, _his son_.
+    CLERIMONT, _a gentleman, friend to Philocles_.
+    FRANKLIN, _an old rich gentleman_.
+    LUCE,[412] _his daughter_.
+    FRANCISCO, _a young man_.
+    ALPHONSO.
+    SHALLOW, _a foolish gentleman_.
+    NICANOR, _a courtier_.
+    MATHO, _a lawyer_.
+    PSECTAS,[413] _a waiting gentlewoman_.
+    _A Parson._
+    _A Sumner._
+    _A Constable and Watch._
+    _Servants._
+
+                      _Scene, Sicily._
+
+
+
+
+TO MY HONOURED FRIEND
+
+MASTER THOMAS MAY,
+
+UPON HIS COMEDY, THE HEIR.
+
+
+    The Heir being born, was in his tender age
+    Rock'd in the cradle of a private stage,
+    Where, lifted up by many a willing hand,
+    The child did from the first day fairly stand;
+    Since having gather'd strength, he dares prefer
+    His steps into the public theatre--
+    The world: where he despairs not but to find
+    A doom from men more able, not less kind.
+    I but his usher am; yet, if my word
+    May pass, I dare be bound he will afford
+    Things must deserve a welcome, if well known,
+    Such as best writers would have wish'd their own.
+    You shall observe his words in order meet,
+    And, softly stealing on with equal feet,
+    Slide into even numbers with such grace,
+    As each word had been moulded for that place.
+    You shall perceive an amorous passion, spun
+    Into so smooth a web as, had the Sun,
+    When he pursu'd the swiftly-flying maid,
+    Courted her in such language, she had stay'd:
+    A love so well express'd must be the same
+    The author felt himself from his fair flame.
+    The whole plot doth alike itself disclose
+    Through the five acts, as doth a lock, that goes
+    With letters; for, till every one be known,
+    The lock's as fast as if you had found none;
+    And, where his sportive Muse doth draw a thread
+    Of mirth, chaste matrons may not blush to read.
+    Thus have I thought it fitter to reveal
+    My want of art (dear friend) than to conceal
+    My love. It did appear I did not mean
+    So to commend thy well-wrought comic scene,
+    As men might judge my aim rather to be
+    To gain praise to myself than give it thee;
+    Though I can give thee none but what thou hast
+    Deserv'd, and what must my faint breath outlast.
+    Yet was this garment (though I skill-less be
+    To take thy measure) only made for thee;
+    And, if it prove too scant, 'tis 'cause the stuff
+    Nature allow'd me was not large enough.
+
+                                              THOMAS CAREW.[414]
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+  [412] The author calls her _Luce_ throughout, which the modern editor
+  changed to Lucy. As a matter of taste, _Lucy_ may be preferable to
+  _Luce;_ but the author ought to be allowed to judge for himself, and
+  sometimes the measure of the lines has been spoiled by the needless
+  alteration.--_Collier._
+
+  [413] _i.e., Vituperator_, which answers to her character. Former
+  editions read _Psecas_.--_Pegge._
+
+  [414] "Carew was the younger brother of a good family, and of
+  excellent parts, and had spent many years of his youth in France and
+  Italy; and, returning from travel, followed the court, which the
+  modesty of that time disposed men to do sometime, before they
+  pretended to be of it; and he was very much esteemed by the most
+  eminent persons in the court, and well looked upon by the king
+  himself, some years before he could obtain to be sewer to the king;
+  and when the king conferred that place upon him, it was not without
+  the regret even of the whole Scotch nation, which united themselves in
+  recommending another gentleman to it; and of so great value were those
+  relations held in that age, when majesty was beheld with the reverence
+  it ought to be. He was a person of a pleasant and facetious wit, and
+  made many poems, especially in the amorous way, which, for the
+  sharpness of the fancy, and the elegancy of the language in which that
+  fancy was spread, were at least equal, if not superior, to any of that
+  time; but his glory was, that after fifty years of his life, spent
+  with less severity or exactness than it ought to have been, he died
+  with the greatest remorse for that license, and with the greatest
+  manifestation of Christianity, that his best friends could
+  desire."--"Life of Clarendon," edit. 1759, i. 36. He died in the year
+  1639. [But see Hazlitt's edit. of Carew, Introductory Memoir.]
+
+
+
+
+PROLOGUS.
+
+
+    Judicious friends, if what shall here be seen
+    May taste your sense, or ope your tickled spleen,
+    Our author has his wish: he does not mean
+    To rub your galls with a satiric scene;
+    Nor toil your brains, to find the fustian sense
+    Of those poor lines that cannot recompense
+    The pains of study: Comedy's soft strain
+    Should not perplex, but recreate the brain;
+    His strain is such, he hopes it, but refers
+    That to the test of your judicious ears.
+
+
+
+
+THE HEIR.
+
+
+
+
+ACT I.
+
+
+_Enter_ POLYMETES, ROSCIO.
+
+    POL. Roscio.
+
+    ROS. My lord.
+
+    POL. Hast thou divulg'd the news,
+    That my son died at Athens?
+
+    ROS. Yes, my lord,
+    With every circumstance: the time, the place,
+    And manner of his death; that 'tis believed,
+    And told for news with as much confidence,
+    As if 'twere writ in Gallo-belgicus.[415]
+
+    POL. That's well, that's very well: now, Roscio,
+    Follows my part; I must express a grief
+    Not usual; not like a well-left heir
+    For his dead father, or a lusty widow
+    For her old husband, must I counterfeit:
+    But in a deeper, a far deeper strain,
+    Weep like a father for his only son.
+    Is not that hard to do, ha! Roscio?
+
+    ROS. O, no, my lord,
+    Not for your skill; has not your lordship seen
+    A player personate Hieronimo?[416]
+
+    POL. By th' mass, 'tis true, I have seen the knave paint grief
+    In such a lively colour, that for false
+    And acted passion he has drawn true tears
+    From the spectators. Ladies in the boxes
+    Kept time with sighs and tears to his sad accents,
+    As he had truly been the man he seem'd.
+    Well, then, I'll ne'er despair: but tell me thou--
+    Thou that hast still been privy to my bosom,
+    How will this project take?
+
+    ROS. Rarely, my lord,
+    Even now, methinks, I see your lordship's house
+    Haunted with suitors of the noblest rank,
+    And my young lady, your supposed heir,
+    Tir'd more with wooing than the Grecian queen[417]
+    In the long absence of her wandering lord.
+    There's not a ruinous nobility
+    In all this kingdom, but conceives a hope
+    Now to rebuild his fortunes on this match.
+
+    POL. Those are not they I look for: no, my nets
+    Are spread for other game; the rich and greedy--
+    Those that have wealth enough, yet gape for more--
+    They are for me.
+
+    ROS. Others will come, my lord:
+    All sorts of fish will press upon your nets;
+    Then in your lordship's wisdom it must lie
+    To cull the great ones, and reject the fry.
+
+    POL. Nay, fear not that; there's none shall have access
+    To see my daughter, or to speak to her,
+    But such as I approve, and aim to catch.
+
+    ROS. The jest will be, my lord, when you shall see,
+    How your aspiring suitors will put on
+    The face of greatness, and belie their fortunes,
+    Consume themselves in show, wasting (like merchants)
+    Their present wealth in rigging a fair ship
+    For some ill-ventur'd voyage that undoes 'em.
+    Here comes a youth with letters from the court,
+    Bought of some favourite, at such a price
+    As will for ever sink him; yet, alas!
+    All's to no purpose, he must lose the prize.
+
+    POL. 'Twill feed me fat with sport, that it shall make,
+    Besides the large adventures it brings home
+    Unto my daughter. How now!
+
+_Enter_ SERVANT.
+
+    SER. My lord, Count Virro is come to see you.
+
+    POL. Conduct him in. So, so, it takes already!
+    See, Roscio, see, this is the very man
+    My project aim'd at, the rich count that knows
+    No end of his large wealth, yet gapes for more.
+    There was no other loadstone could attract
+    His iron heart; for could beauty have mov'd him,
+    Nature has been no niggard to my girl.
+    But I must to my grief; here comes the count.
+
+_Enter_ COUNT VIRRO.
+
+    VIR. Is your lord asleep?
+
+    ROS. No, sir, I think not.
+    My lord, Count Virro!
+
+    VIR. How do you, sir?
+
+    POL. I do entreat your lordship pardon me:
+    Grief and some want of sleep have made me at
+    This time unmannerly, not fit to entertain
+    Guests of your worth.
+
+    VIR. Alas, sir! I know your grief.
+
+    ROS. 'Twas that that fetch'd you hither.             [_Aside._
+
+    VIR. Y' have lost a worthy and a hopeful son;
+    But heaven, that always gives, will sometimes take,
+    And that the best. There is no balsam left us
+    To cure such wounds as these but patience;
+    There is no disputing with the acts of heaven;
+    But, if there were, in what could you accuse
+    Those powers that else have been so liberal to you,
+    And left you yet one comfort in your age,
+    A fair and virtuous daughter.
+
+    ROS. Now it begins.                                  [_Aside._
+
+    VIR. Your blood is not extinct, nor your age childless:
+    From that fair branch that's left may come much fruit
+    To glad posterity: think on that, my lord.
+
+    POL. Nay, heaven forbid I should repine,
+    At what the justice of those powers ordain;
+    It has pleased them to confine my care
+    Only to one; and to see her well bestow'd
+    Is all the comfort that I now must look for;
+    But if it had pleas'd heaven that my son--
+    Ah, my Eugenio!                                   [_He weeps._
+
+    VIR. Alas, good gentleman!
+
+    ROS. 'Fore heaven, he does it rarely!                [_Aside._
+
+VIR. But, sir, remember yourself, remember your daughter; let not your
+grief for the dead make you forget the living, whose hopes and fortunes
+depend upon your safety.
+
+POL. O my good lord, you never had a son.
+
+ROS. Unless they were bastards, and for them no doubt but he has done as
+other lords do. [_Aside._
+
+    POL. And therefore cannot tell what 'tis to lose
+    A son, a good son, and an only son.
+
+    VIR. I would, my lord, I could as well redress,
+    As I can take compassion of your grief:
+    You should soon find an ease.
+
+    POL. Pray pardon me, my lord,
+    If I forget myself toward you at this time;
+    If it please you to visit my house ofter,
+    You shall be welcome.
+
+    VIR. You would fain sleep, my lord, I'll take my leave.
+    Heaven send you comfort! I shall make bold shortly
+    To visit you.
+
+    POL. You shall be wondrous welcome.
+    Wait on my lord, out there.        [_To Attend. Exit_ VIRRO.
+    So, now he's gone: how thinkest thou, Roscio,
+    Will not this gudgeon bite?
+
+    ROS. No doubt, my lord,
+    So fair a bait would catch a cunning fish.
+
+    POL. And such a one is he; he ever lov'd
+    The beauty of my girl, but that's not it
+    Can draw the earthbred thoughts of his gross soul.
+    Gold is the god of his idolatry,
+    With hope of which I'll feed him, till at length
+    I make him fasten, and, Ixion-like,
+    For his lov'd Juno grasp an empty cloud.
+
+    ROS. How stands my young lady affected to him?
+
+POL. There's all the difficulty; we must win her to love him. I doubt
+the peevish girl will think him too old; he's well near fifty. In this
+business I must leave somewhat to thy wit and care: praise him beyond
+all measure.
+
+    ROS. Your lordship ever found me trusty.
+
+    POL. If thou effect it, I will make thee happy.     [_Exeunt._
+
+_Enter_ PHILOCLES, CLERIMONT.
+
+    PHIL. Eugenio's sister, then, is the rich heir
+    By his decease?
+
+    CLER. Yes, and the fair one too:
+    She needs no gloss that fortune can set on her;
+    Her beauty of itself were prize enough
+    To make a king turn beggar for.
+
+    PHIL. Heyday!
+    What, in love, Clerimont? I lay my life 'tis so;
+    Thou couldst not praise her with such passion else.
+
+    CLER. I know not; I slept well enough last night:
+    But if thou saw'st her once, I would not give
+    A farthing for thy life; I tell thee, Philocles,
+    One sight of her would make thee cry, _ah me!_
+    Sigh, and look pale: methinks I do imagine
+    How like an idolatrous lover thou wouldst look
+    Through the eyelids; know nobody.
+
+    PHIL. 'Tis very well.
+    But how did your worship 'scape? You have seen her?
+
+    CLER. True, but I have an antidote, and I can teach it thee.
+
+    PHIL. When I have need on't, I'll desire it.
+
+CLER. And 'twill be worth thy learning, when thou shalt see the tyranny
+of that same scurvy boy, and what fools he makes of us. Shall I
+describe the beast?
+
+PHIL. What beast?
+
+CLER. A lover.
+
+PHIL. Do.
+
+CLER. Then, to be brief, I will pass over the opinion of your ancient
+fathers, as likewise those strange loves spoken of in the authentic
+histories of chivalry, Amadis de Gaul, Parismus, the Knight of the Sun,
+or the witty knight Don Quixote de la Mancha, where those brave men,
+whom neither enchantments, giants, windmills, nor flocks of sheep, could
+vanquish, are made the trophies of triumphing love.
+
+PHIL. Prythee, come to the matter.
+
+CLER. Neither will I mention the complaints of Sir Guy for the fair
+Felice, nor the travels of Parismus for the love of the beauteous
+Laurana; nor, lastly, the most sad penance of the ingenious knight Don
+Quixote upon the mountains of Sierra Morena,[418] moved by the unjust
+disdain of the lady Dulcina del Toboso. As for our modern authors, I
+will not so much as name them; no, not that excellent treatise of
+Tully's love, written by the master of art.[419]
+
+PHIL. I would thou wouldst pass over this passing over of authors, and
+speak thine own judgment.
+
+CLER. Why, then, to be brief, I think a lover looks like an ass.
+
+PHIL. I can describe him better than so myself. He looks like a man
+that had sitten up at cards all night, or a stale drunkard wakened in
+the midst of his sleep.
+
+CLER. But, Philocles, I would not have thee see this lady; she has a
+bewitching look.
+
+PHIL. How darest thou venture, man? What strange medicine hast thou
+found? Ovid ne'er taught it thee. I doubt I guess thy remedy for love:
+go to a bawdy-house or so, is it not?
+
+CLER. Faith, and that's a good way, I can tell you; we younger brothers
+are beholden to it. Alas! we must not fall in love, and choose whom we
+like best; we have no jointures for them, as you blessed heirs can have.
+
+PHIL. Well, I have found you, sir. And prythee, tell me how gettest thou
+wenches?
+
+CLER. Why, I can want no panders. I lie in the constable's house.
+
+    PHIL. And there you may whore by authority.
+    But, Clerimont, I doubt this paragon
+    That thou so praisest is some ill-favoured wench
+    Whom thou wouldst have me laugh'd at for commending.
+
+    CLER. Believe it, I spoke in earnest: trust your eyes:
+    I'll show you her.
+
+    PHIL. How canst thou do it?
+    Thou know'st this lady's father is to mine
+    A deadly enemy; nor is his house
+    Open to any of our kindred.
+
+    CLER. That's no matter:
+    My lodging's the next door to this lord's house,
+    And my back-window looks into his garden;
+    There every morning fair Leucothoë
+    (For so I hear her nam'd) walking alone
+    To please her senses, makes Aurora blush,
+    To see one brighter than herself appear.
+
+    PHIL. Well, I will see her then.                    [_Exeunt._
+
+_Enter_ FRANKLIN, FRANCISCO, _and_ LUCE _gravida_.[420]
+
+    FRANC. Yet for her sake be advis'd better, sir.
+
+    FRANK. Impudent rascal! canst look me i' th' face,
+    And know how thou hast wronged me? Thou
+    Hast dishonour'd my daughter--made a whore of her.
+
+    FRANC. Gentle sir,
+    The wrong my love has made to your fair daughter
+    'Tis now too late to wish undone again:
+    But, if you please, it may be yet clos'd up
+    Without dishonour: I wi
+
+    FRANK. Impudent rascal! canst look me i' th' face,
+    And know how thou hast wronged me? Thou
+    Hast dishonour'd my daughter--made a whore of her.
+
+    FRANC. Gentle sir,
+    The wrong my love has made to your fair daughter
+    'Tis now too late to wish undone again:
+    But, if you please, it may be yet clos'd up
+    Without dishonour: I will marry her.
+
+    FRANK. Marry her! she has a hot catch of that.
+    Marry a beggar!
+    What jointure canst thou make her?
+
+    FRANC. Sir, I am poor, I must confess;
+    Fortune has bless'd you better: but I swear
+    By all things that can bind, 'twas not your wealth
+    Was the foundation of my true-built love;
+    It was her single uncompounded self--
+    Herself without addition--that I lov'd,
+    Which shall for ever in my sight outweigh
+    All other women's fortunes and themselves;
+    And were I great, as great as I could wish
+    Myself for her advancement, no such bar
+    As fortune's inequality should stand
+    Betwixt our loves.
+
+    LUCE. Good father, hear me.
+
+    FRANK. Dost thou not blush to call me father, strumpet?
+    I'll make thee an example.
+
+    LUCE. But hear me, sir; my shame will be your own.
+
+    FRANK. No more, I say. Francisco, leave my house;
+    I charge you, come not here.
+
+    FRANC. I must obey, and will. Dear Luce, be constant.
+
+    LUCE. Till death.                           [_Exit_ FRANCISCO.
+
+FRANK. Here's a fine wedding towards! The bridegroom, when he comes for
+his bride, shall find her great with child by another man! Passion-a-me,
+minion, how have you hid it so long?
+
+LUCE. Fearing your anger, sir, I strove to hide it.
+
+FRANK. Hide it one day more, then, or be damned. Hide it till Shallow be
+married to thee, and then let him do his worst.
+
+LUCE. Sir, I should too much wrong him.
+
+FRANK. Wrong him! there be great ladies have done the like; 'tis no news
+to see a bride with child.
+
+LUCE. Good sir.
+
+FRANK. Then be wise; lay the child to him: he's a rich man, t'other's a
+beggar.
+
+LUCE. I dare not, sir.
+
+FRANK. Do it, I say, and he shall father it.
+
+LUCE. He knows he never touched me, sir.
+
+FRANK. That's all one; lay it to him, we'll out-face him 'tis his: but
+hark! he is coming, I hear the music. Swear thou wilt do thy best to
+make him think 'tis his, only for this time; swear quickly.
+
+LUCE. I do.
+
+FRANK. Go, step aside, and come when thy cue is; thou shalt hear us
+talk. [LUCE _aside_.
+
+_Enter_ SHALLOW, _with music_.
+
+SHAL. Morrow, father.
+
+FRANK. Son bridegroom, welcome; you have been looked for here.
+
+SHAL. My tailor a little disappointed me; but is my bride ready?
+
+FRANK. Yes, long ago; but you and I will talk a little. Send in your
+music.
+
+SHAL. Go, wait within. [_Exit music._] And tell me, father, did she not
+think it long till I came?
+
+FRANK. I warrant her, she did; she loves you not a little.
+
+SHAL. Nay, that I dare swear; she has given me many tastes of her
+affection.
+
+FRANK. What, before you were married?
+
+SHAL. I mean in the way of honesty, father.
+
+FRANK. Nay, that I doubt; young wits love to be trying, and, to say
+truth, I see not how a woman can deny a man of your youth and person
+upon those terms: you'll not be known on't now.
+
+SHAL. I have kissed her, or so.
+
+FRANK. Come, come; I know you are no fool, I should think you a very
+ass--nay, I tell you plainly, I should be loth to marry my daughter to
+you--if I thought you had not tried her in so long acquaintance: but you
+have tried her, and she, poor soul, could not deny you.
+
+SHAL. Ha, ha, he!
+
+FRANK. Faith, tell me, son, 'tis but a merry question: she's yours.
+
+SHAL. Upon my virginity, father----
+
+FRANK. Swear not by that, I'll ne'er believe you.
+
+SHAL. Why, then, as I am a gentleman, I never did it, that I remember.
+
+FRAN. That you remember! O, is't thereabouts?
+
+LUCE. He'll take it upon him presently. [_Aside._
+
+FRAN. You have been so familiar with her, you have forgot the times: but
+did you never come in half fuddled, and then in a kind humour--_cætera
+quis nescit?_
+
+SHAL. Indeed I was wont to serve my mother's maids so, when I came half
+foxed, as you said, and then next morning I should laugh to myself.
+
+FRANK. Why, there it goes; I thought to have chid you, son Shallow; I
+knew what you had done; 'tis too apparent: I would not have people take
+notice of it; pray God she hide her great belly, as she goes to church
+to-day.
+
+SHAL. Why, father, is she with child?
+
+FRANK. As if you knew not that! fie, fie! leave your dissembling now.
+
+SHAL. Sure, it cannot be mine.
+
+FRANK. How's this; you would not make my daughter a whore, would you?
+This is but to try if you can stir my choler: you wits have strange
+tricks, do things over night when you are merry, and then deny 'em. But
+stay, here she comes alone; step aside, she shall not see us.
+
+                                               [_They step aside._
+
+    LUCE. Ah, my dear Shallow, thou need'st not have made
+    Such haste, my heart thou know'st was firm enough
+    To thee; but I may blame my own fond love,
+    That could not deny thee.
+
+    SHAL. She's with child indeed; it swells.
+
+FRANK. You would not believe me. 'Tis a good wench: she does it
+handsomely. [_Aside._
+
+LUCE. But yet I know, if thou hadst been thyself, thou wouldst ne'er
+have offered it; 'twas drink that made thee.
+
+SHAL. Yes, sure, I was drunk when I did it, for I had forgot it. I lay
+my life 'twill prove a girl, because 'twas got in drink.
+
+LUCE. I am ashamed to see anybody.
+
+FRANK. Alas, poor wretch! go comfort her. Luce!
+
+SHAL. Sweetheart! nay, never be ashamed. I was a little too hasty, but
+I'll make thee amends; we'll be married presently.
+
+FRANK. Be cheery, Luce; you were man and wife before; it wanted but the
+ceremony of the church, and that shall be presently done.
+
+SHAL. Ay, ay, sweetheart, as soon as may be.
+
+FRANK. But now I think on't, son Shallow, your wedding must not be
+public, as we intended it.
+
+SHAL. Why so?
+
+FRANK. Because I would not have people take notice of this fault: we'll
+go to church, only we three, the minister and the clerk--that's
+witnesses enough; so, the time being unknown, people will think you were
+married before.
+
+SHAL. But will it stand with my worship to be married in private?
+
+FRANK. Yes, yes; the greatest do it, when they have been nibbling
+beforehand; there is no other way to save your bride's credit.
+
+SHAL. Come, let's about it presently.
+
+    FRANK. This is closed up beyond our wishes.         [_Exeunt._
+
+_Manet_ LUCE.
+
+    LUCE. I am undone, unless thy wit, Francisco,
+    Can find some means to free me from this fool,
+    Who would have thought the sot could be so gross
+    To take upon him what he never did,
+    To his own shame? I'll send to my Francisco,
+    And I must lose no time; for I am dead,
+    If not delivered from this loathed bed.
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+  [415] ["A celebrated political register, as Mr Chalmers aptly terms
+  it, which was now much used. Mention of it is made by almost all the
+  writers of Jonson's age. As it treated of contemporary events,
+  treaties, sieges, &c., in a dead language, it was necessarily driven
+  to the use of unknown and unwarranted terms."--_Gifford's Ben Jonson_,
+  ii. 530, _note_.
+
+  Cleveland, in the "Character of a London Diurnal," 1644, says: "The
+  original sinner of this kind was _Dutch, Gallo-belgicus_ the
+  _Protoplast:_ and the _Modern Mercuries_ but Hans en Kelders." Some
+  intelligence given by _Mercurius Gallo-belgicus_ is mentioned in
+  Carew's "Survey of Cornwall," p. 126, originally published in 1602. Dr
+  Donne, in his verses upon Thomas Coryat's "Crudities," 1611, says--
+
+              "To _Gallo Belgicus_ appear
+      As deep a statesman as a gazetteer."
+
+  [416] See the "Spanish Tragedy," vol. v.
+
+  [417] Penelope.
+
+  [418] In the 4º, 1633, it stands _Sienna Morenna_, and so Mr Reed
+  allowed it to remain.--_Collier._
+
+  [419] The work here mentioned is entitled "Tullies Love, wherein is
+  discovered the prime of 'Ciceroes youth,' &c. &c., by Robert Greene.
+  In artibus magister." I have seen no earlier edition of it than that
+  in 1616.--_Steevens._ [It was first printed in 1589.]
+
+  [420] The situation of Luce is expressed after her name in the old
+  copy by the word _gravida_, and there seems no reason for omitting it.
+  The conclusion of the play shows the necessity of making her condition
+  obvious.--_Collier._
+
+
+
+
+ACT II.
+
+
+_Enter_ PHILOCLES, _and_ CLERIMONT _at the window_.
+
+    CLER. See, Philocles, yonder's that happy shade,
+    That often veils the fair Leucothoë,
+    And this her usual hour; she'll not be long:
+    Then thou shalt tell me if so rare an object
+    E'er bless'd thine eyes before.
+
+    PHIL. Well, I would see her once,
+    Were't but to try thy judgment, Clerimont.
+
+    CLER. And when thou dost, remember what I told thee,
+    I would not be so sick;[421] but soft, look to thy heart,
+    Yonder she comes, and that's her waiting-woman.
+                         [LEUCOTHOË _and_ PSECTAS _in the garden_.
+
+    Now gaze thy fill; speak, man, how lik'st thou her?
+
+    LEU. Psectas!
+
+    PSEC. Madam.
+
+    LEU. What flower was that,
+    That thou wert telling such a story of
+    Last night to me?
+
+    PSEC. 'Tis call'd Narcissus, madam:
+    It bears the name of that too beauteous boy
+    That lost himself by loving of himself;
+    Who, viewing in a fair and crystal stream
+    Those lips that only he could never kiss,
+    Doats on the shadow, which to reach in vain
+    Striving he drowns: thus, scorning all beside,
+    For the lov'd shadow the fair substance died.
+
+    LEU. Fie, fie! I like not these impossible tales;
+    A man to fall in love with his own shadow,
+    And die for love, 'tis most ridiculous!
+
+    PSEC. Madam, I know not; I have often seen
+    Both men and women court the looking-glass
+    With so much seeming contentation,
+    That I could think this true; nay, wear it about 'em,
+    As lovers do their mistress' counterfeit.[422]
+
+    LEU. That's not for love, but to correct their beauties,
+    And draw from others admiration;
+    For all the comfort that our faces give
+    Unto ourselves, is but reflection
+    Of that fair liking that another takes.
+
+    CLER. I would we were a little nearer 'em,
+    We might but hear what talk these wenches have,
+    When they are alone; I warrant, some good stuff.
+
+    PHIL. 'Tis happiness enough for me to see
+    The motion of her lips.
+
+    CLER. I' faith, is't thereabouts?
+    Why, Philocles! what, lost already, man!
+    Struck dead with one poor glance! Look up, for shame,
+    And tell me how thou lik'st my judgment now--
+    Now thou dost see?
+
+    PHIL. Ah, Clerimont! too well;
+    Too well I see what I shall never taste,
+    Yon lady's beauty: she must needs be cruel
+    (Though her fair shape deny it) to the son
+    Of him that is her father's enemy.
+    That, Clerimont, that fatal difference
+    Checks my desire, and sinks my rising hopes;
+    But love's a torrent violent, if stopp'd,
+    And I am desperately mad: I must--
+    I must be hers, or else I must not be.
+
+    CLER. Contain that passion, that will else o'er-whelm
+    All virtue in you, all that is call'd man,
+    And should be yours; take my advice, my heart,
+    My life, to second you: let us consult;
+    You may find time to speak to her and woo her.
+
+    PHIL. Nay, nay, I will, in spite of destiny.
+    Let women and faint-hearted fools complain
+    In languishing despair; a manly love
+    Dares show itself, and press to his desires
+    Through thickest troops of horrid[423] opposites.
+    Were there a thousand waking dragons set
+    To keep that golden fruit, I would attempt
+    To pluck and taste it; 'tis the danger crowns
+    A brave achievement! What if I should go
+    And boldly woo her in her father's house
+    In spite of enmity, what could they say?
+
+    CLER. 'Twere madness that, not wisdom: rash attempts
+    Betray the means, but never work the end.
+
+    PHIL. She would not hate a man for loving her;
+    Or if she did, better be once denied
+    Than live for ever hapless.
+
+    CLER. But take time;
+    The second thoughts, our wise men say, are best.
+
+    PHIL. Delay's a double death; no, I have thought
+    A means that straight I'll put in execution:
+    I'll write a letter to her presently,
+    Take how it will.
+
+    CLER. A letter! who shall carry it?
+
+PHIL. I'll tell thee when I have done: hast thou pen and ink in thy
+chamber?
+
+CLER. Yes, there is one upon the table. I'll stay here at the window,
+and watch whether she stay or not. What a sudden change is this!
+
+    LEU. Did not Count Virro promise to be here
+    To-day at dinner?
+
+    PSEC. Yes, madam, that he did; and I dare swear
+    He will not break.
+
+LEU. He needs not, he is rich enough; unless he should break in knavery,
+as some of our merchants do nowadays.
+
+PSEC. Break promise, madam, I mean; and that he will not for your sake:
+you know his business.
+
+    LEU. I would I did not: he might spare his pains,
+    And that unusual cost that he bestows
+    In pranking up himself, and please me better.
+
+    PSEC. He would not please his tailor and his barber;
+    For they got more for your sake by their lord
+    Than they have got this twenty years before.
+
+    LEU. Ah, Psectas, Psectas! can my father think
+    That I can love Count Virro? one so old--
+    That were enough to make a match unfit--
+    But one so base; a man that never lov'd
+    For anything call'd good, but dross and pelf.
+    One that would never, had my brother liv'd,
+    Have mov'd this suit: no, I can never love him:
+    But canst thou keep a secret firmly, Psectas?
+
+    PSEC. Doubt me not, madam.
+
+    LEU. Well, I'll tell thee then.
+    I love--alas! I dare not say I love him--
+    But there's a young and noble gentleman,
+    Lord Euphues' son, my father's enemy,
+    A man whom Nature's prodigality
+    Stretch'd even to envy in the making up.
+    Once from a window my pleas'd eye beheld
+    This youthful gallant as he rode the street
+    On a curvetting courser who, it seem'd
+    Knew his fair load, and with a proud disdain
+    Check'd the base earth: my father being by,
+    I ask'd his name; he told me Philocles,
+    The son and heir of his great enemy.
+    Judge, Psectas, then, how my divided breast
+    Suffer'd between two meeting contraries,
+    Hatred and love: but Love's a deity,
+    And must prevail 'gainst mortals, whose command
+    Not Jove himself could ever yet withstand.
+
+CLER. What, is the letter done already? I see these lovers have nimble
+inventions; but how will you send it?
+
+    PHIL. What a question's that! Seest thou this stone?
+
+    CLER. Ah! then I see your drift; this stone must guide
+    Your fleeting letter in the air, and carry it
+    To that fair mark you aim.
+
+    PHIL. Hard by her.
+
+CLER. I think you would not hit her with such stones as this; lady, look
+to yourself, now it comes to proof.
+
+    PHIL. But prythee, tell me, what dost thou think this letter may do?
+
+    CLER. Well, I hope.
+    'Tis ten to one this lady oft hath seen you,
+    You never liv'd obscure in Syracuse,
+    Nor walk'd the streets unknown, and who can tell
+    What place you bear in her affections,
+    Lov'd or mislik'd? If bad, this letter sent
+    Will make her show her scorn: if otherwise,
+    Fear not a woman's wit: she'll find a time
+    To answer your kind letter, and express
+    What you desire she should; then send it boldly,
+    You have a fair mark there.
+
+    PHIL. Cupid, guide my arm!
+    O, be as just, blind god, as thou art great!
+    And with that powerful hand, that golden shaft
+    This eye was[424] wounded, wound yon tender breast!
+    There is no salve but that, no cure for me.         [_Throws._
+
+CLER. See, what a wonder it strikes 'em in, how it should come.
+
+PHIL. She'll wonder more to see what man it comes from.
+
+CLER. I like her well, she is not afraid to open it. She starts; stay,
+mark her action when she has read the letter.
+
+_She reads._
+
+    "Let it not wrong this letter, that it came
+    From one that trembled to subscribe his name,
+    Fearing your hate: O, let not hate descend,
+    Nor make you cruel to so vow'd a friend.
+    If you'll not promise love, grant but access,
+    And let me know my woes are past redress.
+    Be just, then, beauteous judge, and, like the laws,
+    Condemn me not till you have heard my cause;
+    Which, when you have, from those fair lips return
+    Either my life in love, or death in scorn.
+                             Yours or not, PHILOCLES."
+
+    Am I awake, or dream I? Is it true,
+    Or does my flattering fancy but suggest
+    What I most covet?
+
+    PSEC. Madam, the words are there;
+    I'll swear it can be no illusion.
+
+    LEU. It is too good for truth.
+
+    PHIL. Mock me not, fortune!
+    She kiss'd it; saw'st thou her? O friend, she kiss'd it!
+
+    CLER. And with a look that relish'd love, not scorn.
+
+    LEU. This letter may be forg'd, I much desire
+    To know the certainty; Psectas, thy help
+    Must further me.
+
+    PSEC. I'll not be wanting.
+
+    LEU. Here comes my father; he must not see this.
+
+    PSEC. No, nor your t'other sweetheart, he is with him yonder.
+
+_Enter_ POLYMETES, VIRRO, ROSCIO.
+
+    POL. Nay, noble count, you are too old a soldier
+    To take a maid's first no for a denial;
+    They will be nice at first: men must pursue
+    That will obtain: woo her, my lord, and take her;
+    You have my free consent, if you get hers.
+    Yonder she walks alone: go comfort her.
+
+    VIR. I'll do the best I may, but we old men
+    Are but cold comfort: I thank your lordship's love.
+
+    POL. I wonder, Roscio, that the peevish girl
+    Comes on so slowly; no persuasions
+    That I can use do move: the setting forth
+    Count Virro's greatness, wealth, and dignity,
+    Seems not to affect her, Roscio.
+
+    ROS. I doubt the cause, my lord;
+    For were 't but[425] that, I dare engage my life
+    She would be won to love him; she has plac'd
+    Already her affections on some other.
+
+    POL. How should I find it out?
+
+    Ros. Why thus, my lord.
+    There's never man nor woman that e'er lov'd,
+    But chose some bosom friend, whose close converse
+    Sweeten'd their joys, and eas'd their burden'd minds
+    Of such a working secret. Thus, no doubt,
+    Has my young lady done; and but her woman,
+    Who should it be? 'tis she must out with it:
+    Her secrecy, if wit cannot o'erreach,
+    Gold shall corrupt; leave that to me, my lord.
+    But if her lady's heart do yet stand free
+    And unbequeath'd to any, your command
+    And father's jurisdiction interpos'd
+    Will make her love the count. No kind of means
+    Must want to draw her.
+
+    POL. Thou art my oracle,
+    My brain, my soul, my very being, Roscio;
+    Walk on and speed, while I but second thee.
+
+    CLER. It is even so; Count Virro is your rival;
+    See how th' old ape smugs up his mouldy chaps
+    To seize the bit?
+
+    PHIL. He must not, if I live;
+    But yet her father brings him: he has the means
+    That I shall ever want.
+
+    CLER. If he do marry her,
+    Revenge it nobly, make him a cuckold, boy.
+
+    PHIL. Thou jest'st, that feel'st it not. Prythee, let's go.
+
+    CLER. Stay, I'll but curse him briefly for thy sake.
+    If thou dost marry her, may'st thou be made
+    A cuckold without profit, and ne'er get
+    An office by it, nor favour at the Court;
+    But may thy large ill-gotten treasury
+    Be spent in her bought lust, and thine own gold
+    Bring thee adulterers; so, farewell, good count.
+                              [_Exeunt_ PHILOCLES _and_ CLERIMONT.
+
+_Enter_ SERVANT.
+
+    SER. My lord, there's a messenger within
+    Desires access, has business of import,
+    Which to no ear but yours he must impart.
+
+_Enter_ EUGENIO, _disguised_.
+
+    POL. Admit him. Now, friend, your business with me.
+
+    SER. If you be the Lord Polymetes.
+
+    POL. The same.
+
+    EUG. My lord, I come from Athens with such news
+    As I daresay is welcome, though unlook'd for;
+    Your son Eugenio lives, whom you so long
+    Thought dead, and mourn'd for.
+
+    POL. How? lives!
+
+    EUG. Upon my life, my lord, I saw him well
+    Within these few days.
+
+    POL. Thanks for thy good news.
+    Reward him, Roscio. But now, tell me, friend,
+    Hast thou reveal'd this news to any man
+    In Syracuse but me?
+
+    EUG. To none, my lord:
+    At every place where I have stay'd in town,
+    Inquiring for your lordship's house, I heard
+    These tragic, but false, news; the contrary
+    I still conceal'd, though knew, intending first
+    Your lordship's ear should drink it.
+
+    POL. Worthy friend,
+    I now must thank your wisdom as your love,
+    In this well-carried action; I'll requite it:
+    Meantime, pray use my house, and still continue
+    Your silence in this business. Roscio, make him welcome,
+    And part as little from him as you can, for fear----
+
+    ROS. Think it done, my lord.
+
+    POL. Leucothoë,[426] come hither.
+
+    VIR. Be like yourself, let not a cruel doom
+    Pass those fair lips, that never were ordain'd
+    To kill, but to revive.
+
+    LEU. Neither, my lord, lies in their power to do.
+
+    VIR. Yes, sweet, to me,
+    Whom your scorn kills, and pity will revive.
+
+    LEU. Pity is show'd to men in misery.
+
+    VIR. And so am I, if not reliev'd by you.
+
+    LEU. 'Twere pride in me, my lord, to think it so.
+
+    VIR. I am your beauty's captive.
+
+    LEU. Then, my lord,
+    What greater gift than freedom can I give?
+    'Tis that that captives most desire, and that
+    You shall command: y' are free from me, my lord.
+
+    VIR. Your beauty contradicts that freedom, lady.
+
+POL. Come, noble count, I must for this time interrupt you; you'll find
+enough within to talk.
+
+    VIR. I'll wait upon your lordship.                  [_Exeunt._
+
+_Manet_ EUGENIO _solus_.
+
+    EUG. Thus in disguise I have discover'd all,
+    And found the cause of my reported death,
+    Which did at first amaze me; but 'tis well:
+    'Tis to draw on the match between my sister
+    And this rich count: heaven grant it be content
+    As well as fortune to her, but I fear
+    She cannot love his age: how it succeeds
+    I shall perceive, and, whilst unknown I stay,
+    I cannot hurt the project, help I may.                [_Exit._
+
+_Enter_ FRANCISCO, SUMNER.[427]
+
+FRANC. This will make good work for you in the spiritual court; Shallow
+is a rich man.
+
+SUM. Those are the men we look for; there's somewhat to be got: the
+court has many businesses at this time, but they are little worth; a few
+waiting-women got with child by servingmen or so, scarce worth citing.
+
+FRANC. Do not their masters get 'em with child sometimes?
+
+SUM. Yes, no doubt; but they have got a trick to put 'em off upon the
+men, and for a little portion save their own credits; besides, these
+private marriages are much out of our way, we cannot know when there is
+a fault.
+
+FRANC. Well, these are no starters; I warrant you, Shallow shall not
+deny it; and for the wench, she need not confess it, she has a mark
+that will betray her.
+
+SUM. I thank you, sir, for your good intelligence, I hope 'tis certain.
+
+    FRANC. Fear not that. Is your citation ready?
+
+    SUM. I have it here.
+
+    FRANC. Well, step aside, and come when I call; I hear 'em coming.
+                                                   [_Exit_ SUMNER.
+
+_Enter_ FRANKLIN, SHALLOW, LUCE, PARSON.
+
+    FRANK. Set forward there. Francisco, what make you here?
+
+    FRANC. I come to claim my right: parson, take heed.
+    Thou art the author of adultery,
+    If thou conjoin this couple; she's my wife.
+
+    FRANK. Yours, saucebox?
+
+    SHAL. Father, I thought she had been mine; I hope
+    I shall not lose her thus.
+
+    FRANK. Francisco,
+    Dare not to interrupt us, for I swear
+    Thou shalt endure the law's extremity
+    For thy presumption.
+
+    FRANC. Do your worst, I fear not; I was contracted to her.
+
+    FRANK. What witness have you?
+
+    FRAN. Heaven is my witness, whose impartial eye
+    Saw our contract.
+
+SHAL. What an ass is this to talk of contracting! He that will get a
+wench must make her bigger, as I have done, and not contract.
+
+    FRANC. Sir, you are abus'd.
+
+    SHAL. Why so?
+
+    FRANC. The wife you go to marry is with child,
+    And by another.
+
+    SHAL. A good jest, i' faith! make me believe that!
+
+    FRANC. How comes this fool possess'd? he never touch'd her,
+    I dare swear.
+
+    FRANK. No more, Francisco, as you will answer it.
+    Parson, set forward there.
+
+    FRANC. Stay.
+    If this will not suffice, Sumner, come forth.
+
+    FRANK. A sumner! we are all betray'd.
+
+_Enter_ SUMNER.
+
+    SUM. God save you all! I think you guess my business;
+    These are to cite to the spiritual court
+    You, Master Shallow, and you, Mistress Luce!
+    Ask not the cause, for 'tis apparent here,
+    A carnal copulation _ante matrimonium_.
+
+    FRANK. This was a bar unlook'd for. Spiteful Francisco!
+
+    FRANC. Injurious Franklin, could the laws divine
+    Or humane suffer such an impious act,
+    That thou shouldst take my true and lawful wife,
+    And great with child by me, to give to another,
+    Gulling his poor simplicity?
+
+    SHAL. Do you mean me, sir?
+
+    SUM. Gallants, farewell; my writ shall be obey'd?
+
+    FRANK. Sumner, it shall.                       [_Exit_ SUMNER.
+
+    PAR. I'll take my leave, there's nothing now for me to do.
+                                                   [_Exit_ PARSON.
+
+    FRANC. Farewell, good master parson.
+
+    FRANK. Francisco,
+    Canst thou say thou ever lov'dst my daughter,
+    And wouldst thou thus disgrace her openly?
+
+    FRANC. No, I would win her thus;
+    And, did you hold her credit half so dear
+    As I, or her content, you would not thus
+    Take her from me, and thrust her 'gainst her will
+    On this rich fool.
+
+    SHAL. You are very bold with me, sir.
+
+    FRANC. Let me have news what happens, dearest Luce.
+
+    LUCE. Else let me die.                      [_Exit_ FRANCISCO.
+
+FRANK. This was your doing, Luce; it had been impossible he should e'er
+have known the time so truly else; but I'll take an order next time for
+your blabbing.
+
+SHAL. What's the matter, father?
+
+FRANK. We may thank you for it; this was your haste, that will now shame
+us all; you must be doing afore your time!
+
+SHAL. 'Twas but a trick of youth, father.
+
+FRANK. And therefore now you must e'en stand in a white sheet for all to
+gaze at.
+
+SHAL. How! I would be loth to wear a surplice now. 'Tis a disgrace the
+house of the Shallows never knew.
+
+FRANK. All the hope is, officers may be bribed; and so they will. 'Twere
+a hard world for us to live in else.
+
+SHAL. You say true, father; if 'twere not for corruption, every poor
+rascal might have justice as well as one of us, and that were a shame.
+
+                                     [_Exeunt_ SHALLOW _and_ LUCE.
+
+    FRANK. This was a cunning stratagem well-laid;
+    But yet, Francisco, th' hast not won the prize.
+    What should I do? I must not let this cause
+    Proceed to trial in the open court,
+    For then my daughter's oath will cast the child
+    Upon Francisco: no, I have found a better.
+    I will before the next court-day provide
+    Some needy parson, one whose poverty
+    Shall make him fear no canons; he shall marry
+    My daughter to rich Shallow: when 'tis done,
+    Our gold shall make a silence in the court.           [_Exit._
+
+_Enter_ PHILOCLES, PSECTAS.
+
+    PSEC. I must return your answer to my lady;
+    I'll tell her you will come.
+
+    PHIL. Come!
+    And such an angel call, I should forget
+    All offices of nature, all that men
+    Wish in their second thoughts, ere such a duty.
+    Commend my service to her, and to you
+    My thanks for this kind message.              [_Exit_ PSECTAS.
+    I never breath'd till now, never till now
+    Did my life relish sweetness. Break not, heart!
+    Crack not, ye feeble ministers of nature:
+    With inundation of such swelling joy,
+    Too great to bear without expression.
+    The lady writes that she has known me long
+    By sight, and lov'd me; and she seems to thank
+    Her stars she loves and is belov'd again.
+    She speaks my very thoughts! How strange it is
+    And happy, when affections thus can meet!
+    She further writes, at such an hour to-day
+    Her father's absence, and all household spies
+    Fitly remov'd, shall give access to me
+    Unmark'd to visit her; where she alone
+    Will entertain discourse, and welcome me.
+    I hope 'tis truly meant; why should I fear?
+    But wisdom bids me fear: fie, fie! 'tis base
+    To wrong a creature of that excellence'
+    With such suspicion; I should injure her.
+    I will as soon suspect an angel false;
+    Treason ne'er lodg'd within so fair a breast.
+    No, if her hand betray me, I will run
+    On any danger: 'tis alike to me
+    To die or find her false; for on her truth
+    Hangs my chief being. Well, I'll lose no time,
+    No, not a minute: dearest love, I come!
+    To meet my sweetest wishes I will fly,
+    Heaven and my truth shield me from treachery.         [_Exit._
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+  [421] The original edition reads _sick_, which Mr Reed changed to
+  _fickle_.--_Collier._
+
+  [422] [Portrait, likeness.]
+
+  [423] [Bristling; Lat. _horridus_.]
+
+  [424] [Old copy, _That I was_.]
+
+  [425] [Old copy, were _not_.]
+
+  [426] [Old copy, _Psectas_.]
+
+  [427] Or _Sompner_, now called an _apparitor_. He is an officer, whose
+  proper business and employment are to attend the spiritual court, to
+  receive such commands as the judge shall please to issue forth; to
+  convene and cite the defendants into court; to admonish or cite the
+  parties in the production of witnesses, and the like; and to make due
+  return of the process by him executed.
+
+
+
+
+ACT III.
+
+
+_Enter_ POLYMETES, ROSCIO, EUGENIO, _and_ PSECTAS.
+
+    POL. I cannot credit it, nor think that she,
+    Of all the noble youth of Sicily,
+    Should make so strange a choice; that none but he,
+    None but the son of my vow'd enemy,
+    Must be her mate: it strikes me to amaze.
+    Minion, take heed, do not belie your mistress.
+
+    PSEC. Mercy forsake me if I do, my lord:
+    You charg'd me to confess the truth to you,
+    Which I have fully done; and presently
+    I'll bring you where (conceal'd) you shall both see
+    Their privacy, and hear their conference.
+
+    POL. Well, I believe thee, wench, and will reward
+    Thy trust[428] in this: go, get thee in again,
+    And bring me word when Philocles is come,     [_Exit_ PSECTAS.
+    Sir, you'll be secret to our purpose?
+
+    EUG. As your own breast, my lord?
+
+    POL. I shall rest thankful to you:
+    This stranger must be sooth'd, lest he mar all.
+
+ROS. This was well found out, my lord: you now have means to take your
+enemy.
+
+    POL. Which bless'd occasion I will so pursue,
+    As childless Euphues shall for ever rue.
+    Rise in thy blackest look, direst Nemesis,
+    Assistant to my purpose, help me glut
+    My thirsty soul with blood! This bold young man
+    To his rash love shall sacrifice his life.
+
+    ROS. What course do you intend to ruin him?
+
+    POL. Why, kill him presently.
+
+    ROS. O no, my lord,
+    You'll rue that action: think not that the law
+    Will let such murder sleep unpunish'd.
+
+    POL. Should I then let him go, when I have caught him?
+
+    ROS. Yes, sir; to catch him faster, and more safely.
+
+    POL. How should that be? Speak, man.
+
+    ROS. Why thus, my lord?
+    You know the law speaks death to any man
+    That steals an heir without her friend's consent:
+    Thus must he do, his love will prompt him to it.
+    For he can never hope by your consent
+    To marry her; and she, 'tis like, will give
+    Consent, for women's love is violent:
+    Then mark their passage, you shall easily find
+    How to surprise them at your will, my lord.
+
+    POL. Thou art my oracle, dear Roscio.
+
+_Enter_ PSECTAS.
+
+    Here's Psectas come again. How now, what news?
+
+    PSEC. My lord, they both are coming; please you withdraw,
+    You shall both hear and see what you desire.
+
+_Enter_ PHILOCLES _and_ LEUCOTHOË.
+
+    LEU. Y' are welcome, noble sir; and, did my power
+    Answer my love, your visitation
+    Should be more free, and your deserved welcome
+    Express'd in better fashion.
+
+    PHIL. Best of ladies,
+    It is so well, so excellently well,
+    Coming from your wish'd love, my barren thanks,
+    Want language for't! there lies in your fair looks
+    More entertainment than in all the pomp
+    That the vain Persian ever taught the world.
+    Your presence is the welcome I expected,
+    That makes it perfect.
+
+    LEU. 'Tis your noble thought
+    Makes good what's wanting here; but, gentle friend--
+    For so I now dare call you.
+
+    POL. 'Tis well, minion; you are bold enough, I see,
+    To choose your friends without my leave.             [_Aside._
+
+    PHIL. 'Tis my ambition ever to be yours.
+
+    LEU. Think me not light, dear Philocles, so soon
+    To grant thee love, that others might have sought
+    With eagerest pursuit, and not obtain'd.
+    But I was yours by fate, and long have been:
+    Before you woo'd, Leucothoë was won,
+    And yours without resistance.
+
+    PHIL. O my stars!
+    'Twas your kind influence that, whilst I slept
+    In dullest ignorance, contriv'd for me
+    The way to crown me with felicity.
+
+POL. You may be deceived, though; you have no such great reason to thank
+your stars, if you knew all. [_Aside._
+
+    PHIL. And know, fair mistress, you have met a love,
+    That time, nor fate, nor death can ever change;
+    A man that but in you can have no being.
+    Let this kiss seal my faith.
+
+    LEU. And this mine.
+
+    POL. Nay, to't again; your sweet meat shall have sour sauce.
+
+    PHIL. But, sweet, 'mongst all these roses there's one thorn
+    That pricks and galls me; our parents' enmity
+    Will cross our loves. I do assure myself
+    Thy father never will give his consent.
+
+    LEU. No, so I think; he moves me still to Virro,
+    That old craz'd count, and with such vehemency,
+    I dare scarce 'bide his presence, if I deny him;
+    Therefore we must be speedy in our course,
+    And take without his leave what he denies.
+
+    POL. I thank you for that, good daughter.           [_Aside._]
+
+    ROS. I told you, sir, 'twould come to this at last. [_Aside._]
+
+    PHIL. O, thou hast spoke my wishes, and hast show'd
+    Thyself in love as good as beautiful;
+    Then let's away, dearest Leucothoë.
+    My fortunes are not poor, then fear no want.
+    This constant love of ours may prove so happy,
+    To reconcile our parents' enmity.
+
+    LEU. Heaven grant it may!
+
+    POL. Never by this means, youngster.                [_Aside._]
+
+    LEU. But soft; now I think better on't, I'll not go.
+
+    PHIL. Why, dearest, is thy love so quickly cold?
+
+    LEU. No, but I'll not venture thee; thine is the danger.
+    Thou know'st 'tis death by law to steal an heir,
+    And my dear brother's most untimely death
+    Hath lately made me one. What, if thou shouldst be taken?
+
+    PHIL. O, fear not that; had I a thousand lives,
+    They were too small a venture for such prize.
+    I tell thee, sweet, a face not half so fair
+    As thine hath arm'd whole nations in the field,
+    And brought a thousand ships to Tenedos,
+    To sack lamented Troy; and should I fear
+    To venture one poor life, and such a life
+    As would be lost in not possessing thee?
+    Come, come, make that no scruple: when shall we go?
+
+    LEU. This present evening; for to-morrow morning
+    My father looks that I should give consent
+    To marry with the count.
+
+    PHIL. Best of all, would 'twere this present hour;
+    I'll go prepare: but shall I call thee here?
+
+    LEU. O no, we'll meet.
+
+    PHIL. Where, dearest?
+
+    LEU. East from the city, by a river's side,
+    Not distant half a mile, there stands a grove,
+    Where, often riding by, I have observ'd
+    A little hermitage; there will I stay,
+    If I be first; if you, do you the like:
+    Let th' hour be ten; then shall I best escape.
+
+    PHIL. Ne'er sweeter comfort came from angel's lips!
+    I know the place, and will be ready there
+    Before the hour. I'll bring a friend with me
+    As true as mine own heart, one Clerimont,
+    That may do us good if danger happen.
+
+    LEU. Use your pleasure.
+
+    PHIL. Dearest, farewell;
+    Hours will seem years, till we are met again.       [_Exeunt._
+
+POL. Ah, sirrah! this gear goes well. God-a-mercy, girl, for thy
+intelligence! Why, this is as much as a man could desire--the time,
+place, and everything. I warrant 'em, they pass no further. Well, go
+thou in and wait upon thy mistress; she's melancholy till she see her
+sweetheart again; but when she does, she shall not see him long. Not a
+word of what's passed among us, for your life.
+
+    PSEC. I warrant you, my lord.                         [_Exit._
+
+POL. I'll not so much as show an angry look or any token that I know of
+any of their proceedings. But, Roscio, we must lay the place strongly.
+If they should 'scape us, I were prettily fooled now, after all this.
+
+ROS. Why, 'tis impossible, my lord; we'll go strong enough: besides, I
+think it fit we took an officer along with us, to countenance it the
+better.
+
+POL. Thou sayest well; go, get one. I'll go myself along with you too; I
+love to see sport, though I am old. You'll go along with us too, sir?
+
+EUG. Ay, sir; you shall command my service when you are ready.
+
+    POL. Now, Euphues, what I did but barely act,
+    Thy bleeding heart shall feel, loss of a son,
+    If law can have his course, as who can let it?[429]
+    I know thou think'st mine dead, and in thy heart
+    Laugh'st at my falling house; but let them laugh,
+    That win the prize: things ne'er are known till ended.
+                                 [_Exeunt_ POLYMETES _and_ ROSCIO.
+
+EUGENIO _solus_.
+
+EUG. Well, I like my sister's choice; she has taken a man whose very
+looks and carriage speak him worthy: besides, he is noble, his
+fortune's sufficient, they both love each other. What can my father
+more desire, that he gapes so after this old count, that comes for the
+estate, as t'other, upon my soul, does not, but pure, spotless love? But
+now his plot is for revenge upon his old enemy. Fie, fie! 'tis bloody
+and unchristian; my soul abhors such acts. This match may rather
+reconcile our houses, and I desire, where worth is, to have friendship
+as, on my soul, 'tis there. Well, Philocles, I hope to call thee
+brother. Somewhat I'll do. I'll go persuade Count Virro not to love her.
+I know the way, and I'll but tell him truth--her brother lives; that
+will cool his love quickly. But soft! here comes the count, as fit as
+may be.
+
+_Enter_ VIRRO.
+
+VIR. She loves me not yet, but that's no matter. I shall have her; her
+father says I shall, and I dare take his word. Maids are quickly
+overruled. Ha, ha! methinks I am grown younger than I was by twenty
+years. This fortune cast upon me is better than Medea's charm to make an
+old man young again, to have a lord's estate freely bestowed, and with
+it such a beauty as would warm Nestor's blood, and make old Priam lusty.
+Fortune, I see thou lovest me now. I'll build a temple to thee shortly,
+and adore thee as the greatest deity. Now, what are you?
+
+EUG. A poor scholar, my lord; one that am little beholding to fortune.
+
+VIR. So are most of your profession. Thou shouldst take some more
+thriving occupation. Be a judge's man; they are the bravest nowadays, or
+a cardinal's pander--that were a good profession, and gainful.
+
+EUG. But not lawful, my lord.
+
+VIR. Lawful! that cardinal may come to be pope, and then he could pardon
+thee and himself too.
+
+EUG. My lord, I was brought up a scholar, and I thank you for your
+counsel, my lord: I have some for you, and therefore I came.
+
+VIR. For me! what, I prythee?
+
+EUG. 'Tis weighty, and concerns you near.
+
+VIR. Speak, what is't?
+
+EUG. My lord, you are to marry old Polymetes's daughter.
+
+VIR. And heir.
+
+EUG. No heir, my lord; her brother is alive.
+
+VIR. How! thou art mad.
+
+EUG. My lord, what I speak is true; and to my knowledge his father gives
+it out in policy to marry his daughter the better; to hook in suitors,
+and specially aimed at you, thinking you rich and covetous; and now he
+has caught you.
+
+VIR. But dost thou mock me?
+
+EUG. Let me be ever miserable if I speak not truth: as sure as I am
+here, Eugenio lives; I know it, and know where he is.
+
+VIR. Where, prythee?
+
+EUG. Not a day's journey hence, where his father enjoined him to stay
+till your match, and sends word to him of this plot: besides, I
+overheard the old lord and his man Roscio laughing at you for being
+caught thus.
+
+VIR. Why, wert thou at the house then?
+
+EUG. Yes, but had scurvy entertainment, which I have thus revenged.
+
+VIR. Beshrew my heart, I know not what to think on't. 'Tis like enough:
+this lord was always cunning beyond measure, and it amazed me that he
+should grow so extreme kind to me on the sudden, to offer me all this.
+Besides, this fellow is so confident, and on no ends of cosenage, that
+I can see. Well, I would fain enjoy her--the wench is delicate; but I
+would have the estate too, and not be gulled. What shall I do? Now,
+brains, if ever you will, help your master.
+
+EUG. It stings him. [_Aside._]
+
+VIR. Well, so, sir, what may I call your name?
+
+EUG. Irus,[430] my lord.
+
+VIR. Your name, as well as your attire, speaks you poor.
+
+EUG. I am so.
+
+VIR. And very poor.
+
+EUG. Very poor.
+
+VIR. Would you not gladly take a course to get money, and a great sum of
+money?
+
+EUG. Yes, gladly, if your lordship would but show me the way.
+
+VIR. Hark ye.[431]
+
+EUG. O, my lord, conscience!
+
+VIR. Fie! never talk of conscience; and for law, thou art free; for all
+men think him dead, and his father will be ashamed to follow it, having
+already given him for dead; and then, who can know it? Come, be wise,
+five hundred crowns I'll give.
+
+EUG. Well, 'tis poverty that does it, and not I: when shall I be paid?
+
+    VIR. When thou hast done it.
+
+    EUG. Well, give me your hand for it, my lord.
+
+    VIR. Thou shalt.
+
+    EUG. In writing, to be paid when I have poisoned him; and think it
+      done.
+
+    VIR. Now thou speak'st like thyself: come in, I'll give it thee.
+
+    EUG. And this shall stop thy mouth for ever, count.   [_Exeunt._
+
+    LEUCOTHOË [_in male attire_] _sola_.
+
+    LEU. There is no creature here; I am the first.
+    Methinks this sad and solitary place
+    Should strike a terror to such hearts as mine;
+    But love has made me bold. The time has been,[432]
+    In such a place as this I should have fear'd
+    Each rolling leaf, and trembled at a reed
+    Stirr'd in the moonshine: my fearful fancy
+    Would frame a thousand apparitions,
+    And work some fear out of my very shadow.
+    I wonder Philocles is tardy thus;
+    When last we parted, every hour (he said)
+    Would seem a year till we were met again;
+    It should not seem so by the haste he makes.
+    I'll sit and rest me; come, I know, he will.
+
+_Enter_ PHILOCLES _and_ CLERIMONT.
+
+    PHIL. This, Clerimont, this is the happy place,
+    Where I shall meet the sum of all my joys,
+    And be possess'd of such a treasury
+    As would enrich a monarch.
+
+    LEU. This is his voice! My Philocles!
+
+    PHIL. My life! my soul! what, here before me?
+    O, thou dost still outgo me, and dost make
+    All my endeavours poor in the requital
+    Of thy large favours. But I forget myself;
+    Sweet, bid my friend here welcome; this is he,
+    That I dare trust next mine own heart with secrets.
+    But why art thou disguised thus?
+
+    LEU. I durst not venture else to make escape.
+
+    PHIL. Even now, methinks, I stand as I would wish,
+    With all my wealth about me. Such a love
+    And such a friend, what can be added more
+    To make a man live happy? Thou dark grove,
+    That hast been call'd the seat of melancholy,
+    And shelter for the discontented spirits,
+    Sure, thou art wrong'd; thou seem'st to me a place
+    Of solace and content; a paradise,
+    That giv'st me more than ever court could do,
+    Or richest palace. Bless'd be thy fair shades;
+    Let birds of music ever chant it here,
+    No croaking raven or ill-boding owl
+    Make here their baleful habitation,
+    Frighting thy walks; but may'st thou be a grove
+    Where love's fair queen may take delight to sport:
+    For under thee two faithful lovers meet.
+    Why is my fair Leucothoë so sad?
+
+    LEU. I know no cause; but I would fain be gone.
+
+    PHIL. Whither, sweet?
+
+    LEU. Any whither from hence,
+    My thoughts divine of treason, whence I know not.
+    There is no creature knows our meeting here
+    But one, and that's my maid; she has been trusty,
+    And will be still, I hope; but yet I would
+    She did not know it: prythee, let's away;
+    Anywhere else we are secure from danger.
+    Then let's remove, but, prythee, be not sad.
+    What noise is that?                           [_Noise within._
+
+    LEU. Ah me!
+
+    PHIL. O, fear not, love!                             [_Draws._
+
+_Enter_ POLYMETES, ROSCIO, EUGENIO, _and_ OFFICERS.
+
+    POL. Upon 'em, officers, yonder they are.
+
+    PHIL. Thieves! villains!
+
+    POL. Thou art the thief, and the villain too.
+    Give me my daughter, thou ravisher.
+
+    PHIL. First take my life.
+
+    POL. Upon 'em, I say; knock 'em down, officers, if they resist.
+                                         [_Fight. They are taken._
+
+    LEU. O, they are lost! ah, wicked, wicked Psectas!
+
+POL. So, keep 'em fast; we'll have 'em faster shortly; and for you,
+minion, I'll tie a clog about your neck for running away any more.
+
+    LEU. Yet do but hear me, father.
+
+    POL. Call me not father, thou disobedient wretch,
+    Thou runaway; thou art no child of mine;
+    My daughter ne'er wore breeches.
+
+    LEU. O sir, my mother would have done as much
+    For love of you, if need had so requir'd:
+    Think not my mind transformed as my habit.
+
+    POL. Officers, away with him! peace, strumpet!
+    You may discharge him:[433] he's but an assistant.
+
+    LEU. O, stay and hear me yet; hear but a word,
+    And that my last, it may be: do not spill
+    The life of him in whom my life subsists;
+    Kill not two lives in one! Remember, sir,
+    I was your daughter once, once you did love me:
+    And tell me, then, what fault can be so great
+    To make a father murderer of his child?
+    For so you are in taking of his life.
+    O, think not, sir, that I will stay behind him,
+    Whilst there be asps and knives, and burning coals.
+    No Roman dame shall in her great example
+    Outgo my love.
+
+    PHIL. O, where will sorrow stay!
+    Is there no end in grief, or in my death
+    Not punishment enough for my offence,
+    But must her grief be added to afflict me?
+    Dry up those pearls, dearest Leucothoë,
+    Or thou wilt make me doubly miserable:
+    Preserve that life, that I may after death
+    Live in my better part. Take comfort, dear:
+    People would curse me if such beauty should
+    For me miscarry: no, live happy thou,
+    And let me suffer what the law inflicts.
+
+    LEU. My offence was as great
+    As thine, and why should not my punishment?
+
+    POL. Come, have you done? Officers, away with him.
+                                                [_Exit_ PHILOCLES.
+    I'll be your keeper, but I'll look better to you.
+    But, Roscio, you and I must about the business:
+    Sir, let it be your charge to watch my daughter,
+    And see she send no message any whither,
+    Nor receive any.             [_Exeunt_ POLYMETES _and_ ROSCIO.
+
+EUG. It shall, my lord; I'll be an Argus: none shall come here, I
+warrant you. My very heart bleeds to see two such lovers, so faithful,
+parted so. I must condemn my father; he's too cruel in this action; and,
+did not nature forbid it, I could rail at him--to wreak his
+long-fostered malice against Lord Euphues thus upon his son, the
+faithful lover of his own daughter, and upon her. For should it come to
+pass, as he expects it shall, I think it would kill her too, she takes
+it so. See in what strange amazement now she stands! her grief has spent
+itself so far, that it has left her senseless. It grieves me thus to see
+her; I can scarce forbear revealing of myself to her, but that I keep
+it for a better occasion, when things shall answer better to my purpose.
+Lady!
+
+    LEU. What are you?
+
+    EUG. One that my lord your father has appointed
+    To give attendance on you.
+
+    LEU. On me I alas! I need no attendance:
+    He might bestow his care better for me.
+
+    EUG. I came but lately to him, nor do I mean
+    Long to stay with him; in the meantime, lady,
+    Might I but do you any service?
+
+    LEU. All service is too late, my hopes are desperate.
+
+    EUG. Madam, I have a feeling of your woe,
+    A greater your own brother could not have;
+    And think not that I come suborn'd by any
+    To undermine your secrets: I am true--
+    By all the gods, I am! for further trial,
+    Command me anything, send me on any message,
+    I'll do it faithfully, or anything else
+    That my poor power can compass.
+
+    LEU. O strange fate!
+    Have I lost pity in a father's heart,
+    And shall I find it in a stranger? Sir,
+    I shall not live to thank you; but my prayers
+    Shall go with you.
+
+    EUG. 'Tis not for thanks or meed,
+    But for the service that I owe to virtue,
+    I would do this.
+
+    LEU. Surely this man
+    Is nobly bred, howe'er his habit give him.
+    But, sir, all physic comes to me too late;
+    There is no hope my Philocles should live.
+
+    EUG. Unless the king were pleas'd to grant his pardon.
+    'Twere good that he were mov'd.
+
+    LEU. Ah! who should do it?
+    I fear me, 'tis in vain: Count Virro
+    And my father both will cross it; but I would venture,
+    If I could but get thither.
+
+    EUG. 'Tis in my power
+    To give you liberty: your father left
+    Me to be your keeper; but in an act
+    So meritorious as this I will not hinder you;
+    Nay, I will wait upon you to the Court.
+
+    LEU. A thousand thanks to you; well, I will go.
+    Grant, O ye powers above, if [a] virgin's tears--
+    If a true lover's prayers--had ever power
+    To move compassion, grant it now to me!
+    Arm with so strong a vigour my weak words,
+    They may pierce deep into his kingly breast,
+    And force out mercy in spite of all opposers!
+
+    EUG. Come, let's away.                              [_Exeunt._
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+  [428] _i.e._, Trustiness or fidelity, or perhaps we should read
+  _truth_.--_Pegge._ [_Trust_ is right, and should not be altered. It is
+  a common form of expression.]
+
+  [429] _i.e._, Hinder it.
+
+  [430] [The name of the beggar in the "Odyssey" slain by Ullysses.]
+
+  [431] Virro here whispers the supposed Irus, and makes the proposition
+  for killing Eugenio.--_Collier._
+
+  [432] See the "Old Couple," act ii., where May has borrowed from this
+  passage the same sentiment--
+
+                  "The time has been,
+      In such a solitary place as this,
+      I should have trembled at each moving leaf;
+      But sorrow, and my miserable state,
+      Have made me bold."
+
+  [433] _i.e._, Clerimont.--_Pegge._
+
+
+
+
+ACT IV.
+
+
+_Enter_ FRANCISCO, _reading a letter_.
+
+    FRANC. My dearest Luce, were thy old sire as just
+    As thou art truly constant, our firm love
+    Had never met these oppositions.
+    All my designs as yet, all practices
+    That I have us'd, I see are frustrated;
+    For, as my fair intelligencer writes,
+    He will before the next court-day provide
+    Some careless parson, that in spite of laws
+    Shall marry her to Shallow: this being done,
+    He means to hold the court's severity
+    In by a golden bit, and so he may.
+    Alas! it is too true; I must prevent it,
+    And that in time, before it grow too far:
+    But how? there lies the point of difficulty:
+    But what strange sight is this that greets mine eyes?
+    Alphonso, my old captain! sure, 'tis he.
+
+_Enter_ ALPHONSO.
+
+    ALPH. Thus once again from twenty years' exile,
+    Toss'd by the storms of fortune to and fro,
+    Has gracious heaven given me leave to tread
+    My native earth of Sicily, and draw
+    That air that fed me in my infancy.
+
+    FRANC. 'Tis he! Most noble captain, O, what power
+    Has been so gracious as to bless mine eyes
+    Once more with sight of my most honour'd master?
+
+    ALPH. Kind youth, the tears of joy that I have spent
+    To greet my native country have quite robb'd
+    Mine eyes of moisture, and have left me none
+    To answer thy affection. But tell me--
+    Tell me how thou hast liv'd in Syracuse
+    These five years here, since that unlucky storm
+    Divided us at sea.
+
+    FRANC. Faith, poorly, sir:
+    As one that knows no kindred or alliance,
+    Unknown of any have I shifted out.
+    But I have heard you say that I was born
+    In Syracuse: tell me what stock I come of,
+    What parentage; how mean soe'er they be,
+    They cannot well be poorer than myself:
+    Speak, do you know them, sir?
+
+    ALPH. Yes; very well,
+    And I am glad the fates have brought me home,
+    For thy dear sake, that I may now disclose
+    Thy honourable birth.
+
+    FRANC. Honourable!
+
+    ALPH. Yes, noble youth, thou art the second son
+    To old Lord Euphues; a man more worthy
+    And truly noble never drew this air.
+    Thy name's Lysandro: this discovery
+    Will be as welcome to your friends as you.
+
+    FRANC. You do amaze me, sir.
+
+    ALPH. I'll tell you all.
+    It was my fortune twenty years ago,
+    Upon the Tyrrhene shore, whose sea divides
+    This isle from Italy, to keep a fort
+    Under your noble father, where yourself,
+    Then but a child, was left to my tuition:
+    When suddenly the rude assailing force
+    Of strong Italian pirates so prevail'd,
+    As to surprisal of the fort and us.
+    Your name and noble birth I then conceal'd,
+    Fearing some outrage from the enmity
+    Of those fell pirates; and since from yourself
+    I purposely have kept the knowledge of it,
+    As loth to grieve your present misery
+    With knowledge of what fortunes you had lost.
+    That this is true, you straight shall see th' effect:
+    I'll go acquaint your father with the tokens.
+    And make his o'erjoy'd heart leap to embrace
+    Thee his new-found and long-forgotten son.
+
+    FRANC. Worthy captain, your presence was always
+    Welcome to me, but this unlook'd-for news
+    I cannot suddenly digest.
+
+    ALPH. Well, I'll go to him presently.        [_Exit_ ALPHONSO.
+
+    FRANC. Now, my dear Luce, I shall find means to 'quite
+    Thy love, that couldst descend so low as I,
+    When I was nothing, and with such affection.
+    This was my suit still to the powers above,
+    To make me worthy of thy constant love.
+    But I'll about the project I intended.      [_Exit_ FRANCISCO.
+
+_Enter_ VIRRO _and_ POLYMETES.
+
+POL. Why, now, my lord, you are nearer to her love than ever you were
+yet; your rival by this accident shall be removed out of the way; for
+before the scornful girl would never fancy any man else.
+
+VIR. I conceive you, sir.
+
+POL. I laboured it for your sake as much as for my own, to remove your
+rival and my enemy: you have your love, and I have my revenge.
+
+VIR. I shall live, my lord, to give you thanks. But 'twill be after a
+strange manner, if Irus has despatched what he was hired to: then, my
+kind lord, I shall be a little too cunning for you. [_Aside._
+
+POL. My lord, you are gracious with the king.
+
+VIR. I thank his majesty, I have his ear before another man.
+
+POL. Then see no pardon be granted; you may stop anything; I know
+Euphues will be soliciting for his son.
+
+VIR. I warrant you, my lord, no pardon passes whilst I am there; I'll be
+a bar betwixt him and the king. But hark! the king approaches.
+
+_Enter_ KING, _with Attendants_.
+
+    AMBO. Health to your majesty.
+
+    KING. Count Virro and Lord Polymetes, welcome:
+    You have been strangers at the Court of late,
+    But I can well excuse you, count; you are about a wife,
+    A young one, and a fair one too, they say.
+    Get me young soldiers, count: but speak,
+    When is the day? I mean to be your guest;
+    You shall not steal a marriage.
+
+VIR. I thank your majesty; but the marriage that I intended is stolen
+to my hand, and by another.
+
+    KING. Stolen! how, man?
+
+    VIR. My promised wife
+    Is lately stol'n away by Philocles,
+    Lord Euphues' son, against her father's will;
+    Who follow'd 'em, and apprehended them:
+    The law may right us, sir, if it may have course.
+
+    KING. No reason but the law should have its course.
+
+_Enter_ EUPHUES.
+
+    EUPH. Pardon, dread sovereign, pardon for my son.
+
+    KING. Your son, Lord Euphues! what is his offence?
+
+    EUPH. No heinous one, my liege, no plot of treason
+    Against your royal person or your state:
+    These aged cheeks would blush to beg a pardon
+    For such a foul offence: no crying murder
+    Hath stain'd his innocent hands; his fault was love--
+    Love, my dear liege. Unfortunately he took
+    The daughter and heir of Lord Polymetes,
+    Who follows him, and seeks extremity.
+
+    POL. I seek but law; I am abus'd, my liege,
+    Justice is all I beg: my daughter's stol'n,
+    Staff of my age; let the law do me right.
+
+    VIR. To his just prayers do I bend my knee.
+    My promis'd wife is stol'n, and by the son
+    Of that injurious lord: justice I crave.
+
+    EUPH. Be like those powers above, whose place on earth
+    You represent; show mercy, gracious king,
+    For they are merciful.
+
+    POL. Mercy is but the king's prerogative,
+    'Tis justice is his office: doing that,
+    He can wrong no man, no man can complain;
+    But mercy show'd oft takes away relief
+    From the wrong'd party, that the law would give him.
+
+    EUPH. The law is blind, and speaks in general terms;
+    She cannot pity where occasion serves:
+    The living law can moderate her rigour,
+    And that's the king.
+
+    POL. The king, I hope, in this will not do so.
+
+    EUPH. 'Tis malice makes thee speak,
+    Hard-hearted lord. Hadst thou no other way
+    To wreak thy canker'd and long-foster'd hate
+    Upon my head but thus--thus bloodily
+    By my son's suffering, and for such a fault,
+    As thou shouldst love him rather? Is thy daughter
+    Disparag'd by his love? Is his blood base,
+    Or are his fortunes sunk? This law was made
+    For suchlike cautions to restrain the base
+    From wronging noble persons by attempts
+    Of such a kind; but where equality
+    Meets in the match, the fault is pardonable.
+
+_Enter_ LEUCOTHOË.
+
+    LEU. Mercy, my sovereign! mercy, gracious king!
+
+    POL. Minion, who sent for you? 'twere modesty
+    For you to be at home.
+
+    KING. Let her alone. Speak, lady:
+    I charge you, no man interrupt her.
+
+    LEU. If ever pity touch'd that princely breast,
+    If ever virgin's tears had power to move,
+    Or if you ever lov'd, and felt the pangs
+    That other lovers do, pity, great king--
+    Pity and pardon two unhappy lovers.
+
+    KING. Your life is not in question.
+
+    LEU. Yes, royal sir,
+    If law condemn my Philocles, he and I
+    Have but one heart, and can have but one fate.
+
+    EUPH. Excellent virtue! thou hadst not this from thy father.
+
+    KING. There's music in her voice, and in her face
+    More than a mortal beauty: O my heart!
+    I shall be lost in passion if I hear her.           [_Aside._]
+    I'll hear no more: convey her from my presence:
+    Quickly. I say.
+
+    EUPH. This is strange!
+
+    VIR. I told you what he would do; I knew
+    He would not hear of a pardon, and I against it;
+    He respects me.
+
+    POL. No doubt he does, my lord:
+    I like this passage well.
+
+    KING. But stay:
+    Stay, lady, let me hear you. Beshrew my heart,
+    My mind was running of another matter.
+
+VIR. Where the devil hath his mind been all this while? Perhaps he heard
+none of us neither; we may e'en tell our tales again.
+
+    POL. No, sure, he heard us; but 'tis very strange.
+
+    KING. 'Tis such a tempting poison I draw in,
+    I cannot stay my draught. [_Aside._] Rise up, lady.
+
+    LEU. Never, until your grace's pardon raise me.
+    There's pity in your eye: O, show it, sir.
+    Say pardon, gracious king; 'tis but a word
+    And short, but welcome as the breath of life.
+
+    KING. I'll further hear the manner of this fact.
+    Avoid the presence--all but the lady;
+    And come not, till I send.
+
+    POL. I like not this.                               [_Aside._]
+
+    VIR. Nor I; here is mad dancing.
+
+    EUPH. Heaven bless thy suit, thou mirror of thy sex,
+    And best example of true constant love,
+    That in the sea of thy transcendent virtues
+    Drown'st all thy father's malice, and redeem'st
+    More in my thoughts than all thy kin can lose!      [_Exeunt._
+
+    KING. Now, lady,
+    What would you do to save the life of him
+    You love so dearly?
+
+    LEU. I cannot think that thought I would not do.
+    Lay it in my power, and beyond my power
+    I would attempt.
+
+    KING. You would be thankful then to me,
+    If I should grant his pardon?
+
+    LEU. If ever I were thankful to the gods
+    For all that I call mine: my health and being,
+    Could I to you be unthankful for a gift
+    I value more than those, and without which
+    These blessings were but wearisome?
+
+    KING. Those that are thankful study to requite
+    A courtesy; would you do so? Would you
+    Requite this favour?
+
+    LEU. I cannot, sir;
+    For all the service I can do your grace
+    Is but my duty; you are my sovereign,
+    And all my deeds to you are debts, not merits.
+    But to those powers above that can requite,
+    That from their wasteless treasures heap rewards
+    More out of grace than merits on us mortals,
+    To those I'll ever pray, that they would give you
+    More blessings than I have skill to ask.
+
+    KING. Nay, but, Leucothoë, this lies
+    In thy power to requite: thy love will make requital;
+    Wilt thou love me?
+
+    LEU. I ever did, my lord:
+    I was instructed from my infancy
+    To love and honour you my sovereign.
+
+    KING. But in a nearer bond of love?
+
+    LEU. There is no nearer nor no truer love,
+    Than that a loyal subject bears a prince.
+
+    KING. Still thou wilt not conceive me: I must deal
+    Plain with you: wilt thou lie with me?
+    And I will seal his pardon presently;
+    Nay more, I'll heap upon you both all favours,
+    All honours that a prince can give.
+
+    LEU. O me unhappy!
+    In what a sad dilemma stands my choice,
+    Either to lose the man my soul most loves,
+    Or save him by a deed of such dishonour,
+    As he will ever loathe me for, and hate
+    To draw that breath that was so basely kept!        [_Aside._]
+
+    Name anything but that to save his life;
+    I know you do but tempt my frailty, sir.
+    I know your royal thoughts could never stoop
+    To such a foul, dishonourable act.
+
+    KING. Bethink thyself, there is no way but that.
+    I swear by heaven never to pardon him
+    But upon those conditions.
+
+    LEU. O, I am miserable!
+
+    KING. Thou art not, if not wilful; yield, Leucothoë,
+    It shall be secret: Philocles for his life
+    Shall thank thy love, but never know the price
+    Thou paid'st for it. Be wise; thou heardst me swear:
+    I cannot now show mercy, thou may'st save him,
+    And if he die, 'tis thou that art the tyrant.
+
+    LEU. I should be so, if I should save him thus.
+    Nay, I should be a traitor to your grace,
+    Betray your soul to such a foe as lust.
+    But since your oath is pass'd, dear Philocles,
+    I'll show to thee an honest cruelty,
+    And rather follow thee in spotless death,
+    Than buy with sinning a dishonour'd life.
+
+    KING. Yet pity me, Leucothoë; cure the wound
+    Thine eyes have made: pity a begging king!
+    Uncharm the charms of thy bewitching face,
+    Or thou wilt leave me dead. Will nothing move thee?
+    Thou art a witch, a traitor: thou hast sought
+    By unresisted spells thy sovereign's life.
+    Who are about us? Call in the lords again.
+
+_Enter_ POLYMETES, VIRRO, EUPHUES, &c.
+
+    Lord Polymetes, take your daughter to you,
+    Keep her at home.
+
+    POL. I will, my liege; Roscio, see her there.
+    I wonder what is done.                              [_Aside._]
+
+    KING. Euphues, I have ta'en a solemn oath
+    Never to grant a pardon to thy son.
+
+    EUPH. O, say not so, my liege; your grace, I know,
+    Has mercy for a greater fault than this.
+
+    KING. My oath is pass'd, and cannot be recall'd.
+
+    POL. This is beyond our wishes.                     [_Aside._]
+
+    VIR. What made him swear this, I wonder?
+
+    EUPH. A heavy oath to me, and most unlook'd for.
+    Your justice, sir, has set a period
+    Unto a loyal house, a family
+    That have been props of the Sicilian crown,
+    That with their bloods in many an honour'd field,
+    'Gainst the hot French and Neapolitan,
+    Have serv'd for you and your great ancestors:
+    Their children now can never more do so.
+    Farewell, my sovereign! whilst I in tears
+    Spend the sad remnant of my childless age,
+    I'll pray for your long life and happy reign,
+    And may your grace and your posterity
+    At need find hands as good and hearts as true,
+    As ours have ever been!
+
+    KING. Farewell, good old man.
+
+    EUPH. For you, my lord, your cruelty has deserv'd
+    A curse from me, but I can utter none:
+    Your daughter's goodness has weigh'd down your malice,
+    Heaven prosper her!                           [_Exit_ EUPHUES.
+
+    POL. Amen.
+
+    KING. He is an honest man, and truly noble.
+    O my rash oath! my lust that was the cause:
+    Would any price would buy it in again!
+
+    VIR. Your majesty is just.
+
+    POL. 'Tis a happy land,
+    Where the king squares his actions by the law.
+
+    KING. Away! you are base and bloody,
+    That feed your malice with pretence of justice.
+    'Tis such as you make princes tyrannous,
+    And hated of their subjects: but look to't,
+    Look your own heads stand fast; for if the law
+    Do find a hole in your coats, beg no mercy.
+
+    VIR. Pardon us, my lord, we were wrong'd.
+
+    POL. And sought redress but by a lawful course.
+
+    KING. Well, leave me alone.
+
+    VIR. Farewell, my liege. Now let him chafe alone.
+
+    POL. Now we have our ends.                          [_Exeunt._
+
+    KING. Is there no means to save him, no way
+    To get a dispensation for an oath?
+    None that I know, except the court of Rome
+    Will grant one: that's well thought on;
+    I will not spare for gold, and that will do it.
+    Nicanor!
+
+_Enter_ NICANOR.
+
+    NIC. Sir!
+
+    KING. What book is that
+    Thou hadst from Paris about the price of sins?
+
+    NIC. 'Tis called the Taxes of the Apostolical Chancery.[434]
+
+    KING. Is there a price for any sin set down?
+
+    NIC. Any, sir: how heinous e'er it be,
+    Or of what nature, for such a sum of money
+    As is set down there, it shall be remitted.
+
+    KING. That's well; go fetch the book presently.
+
+    NIC. I will, my lord.                         [_Exit_ NICANOR.
+
+    KING. Sure, there is perjury
+    Among the rest, and I shall know what rate
+    It bears, before I have committed it.
+
+
+_Re-enter_ NICANOR.
+
+    How now, hast brought it?
+
+    NIC. Yes, sir.
+
+    KING. Read; I would know the price of perjury.
+
+NIC. I shall find it quickly; here's an index. [_He reads._]
+_Imprimis_. For murder of all kinds, of a clergyman, of a layman, of
+father, mother, son, brother, sister, wife----
+
+KING. Read till you come at perjury.
+
+NIC. _Item_, for impoisoning, enchantments, witchcraft, sacrilege,
+simony, and their kind and branches.
+
+_Item, pro lapsu carnis_, fornication, adultery, incest without any
+exception or distinction; for sodomy, brutality, or any of that kind.
+
+    KING. My heart shakes with horror
+    To hear the names of such detested sins.
+    Can these be bought for any price of money?
+    Or do these merchants but deceive the world
+    With their false wares? No more of that foul book;
+    I will not now know what I came to know.
+    I would not for the world redeem my oath
+    By such a course as this. No more, Nicanor,
+    Unless thou find a price for atheism.
+    Well, this is not the way to help, I see;
+    I have thought of another that may prove
+    And both discharge my oath, and save his life.
+    Nicanor, run presently, call Matho hither--
+    Matho the lawyer: command him to make haste;
+    I long to be resolv'd.
+
+    NIC. I run, sir.
+
+    KING. He is a subtle lawyer, and may find
+    Some point, that in the law's obscurity
+    Lies hid from us--some point may do us good.
+    I have seen some of his profession
+    Out of a case as plain, as clear as day
+    To our weak judgments, and no doubt at first
+    Meant like our thoughts by those that made the law,
+    Pick out such hard, inextricable doubts,
+    That they have spun a suit of seven years long,
+    And led their hood-wink['d] clients in a wood,
+    A most irremeable labyrinth,
+    Till they have quite consum'd them. This they can do
+    In other cases: why not as well in this?
+    I have seen others could extend the law
+    Upon the rack, or cut it short again
+    To their own private profits, as that thief,
+    Cruel Procrustes, serv'd his hapless guests,
+    To fit them to his bed. Well, I shall see.
+    I would Nicanor were return'd again,
+    I would fain ease my conscience of that oath,
+    That rash and inconsiderate oath I took.
+    But see! here they are coming.
+
+_Enter_ MATHO _and_ NICANOR.
+
+    MATHO. Health to my sovereign!
+
+    KING. Matho, welcome.
+    I sent for thee about a business
+    I would entreat thy help in.
+
+    MATHO. Your highness may command my service in that,
+    Or anything lies in my power.
+
+    KING. 'Tis to decide a case that troubles me.
+
+    MATHO. If it lie within the compass of my knowledge,
+    I will resolve your highness presently.
+
+    KING. Then thus it is: Lord Euphues' son,
+    Young Philocles, has lately stol'n away
+    The daughter and heir of Lord Polymetes,
+    Who is his enemy: he, following him hard,
+    Has apprehended him, and brings him to his trial
+    To-morrow morning. Thou hast heard this news?
+
+    MATHO. I have, my liege, with every circumstance
+    That can be thought on in the business.
+
+    KING. And what will be the issue of the law?
+
+    MATHO. He must die for't; the case is plain; unless
+    Your grace will grant his pardon.
+
+    KING. But can there be no means thought upon
+    To save him by the law?
+
+    MATHO. None, my lord.
+
+    KING. Surely there may; speak, man: I'll give thee double fees.
+
+    MATHO. It cannot be, my liege; the statute is plain.
+
+    KING. Nay, now thou art too honest; thou shouldst do,
+    As other lawyers do: first take my money,
+    And then tell me thou canst do me no good.
+
+    MATHO. I dare not undertake it; could it be done,
+    I'd go as far as any man would do.
+
+    KING. Yes, if it were to cut a poor man's throat, you could;
+    For some rich griping landlord you could grind
+    The face of his poor tenant, stretch the law
+    To serve his turn, and, guided by his angels,
+    Speak oracles more than the tongues of men.
+    Then you could find exceptions, reservations,
+    Stand at a word, a syllable, a letter,
+    Go coin some scruples out of your own brains:
+    But in a case so full of equity,
+    So charitable as this, you can find nothing.
+    I shall for ever hate all your profession.
+
+    MATHO. I do beseech your highness to excuse me:
+    I cannot do more than your laws will let me;
+    Nor falsify my knowledge nor my conscience.
+
+    KING. Then I am miserable. Rise, Matho, rise,
+    I do not discommend thy honesty,
+    But blame my own hard fate. Ah, Philocles!
+    I would redeem thy life at any price;
+    But the stars cross it: cruel fate condemns thee.   [_Exeunt._
+
+_Enter_ CONSTABLE _and_ WATCH.[435]
+
+CON. Come, fellow-watchmen, for now you are my fellows.
+
+1ST WATCH. It pleases you to call us so, master constable.
+
+CON. I do it to encourage you in your office--it is a trick that we
+commanders have: your great captains call your soldiers fellow-soldiers
+to encourage them.
+
+2D WATCH. Indeed, and so they do. I heard master curate reading a
+story-book t'other day to that purpose.
+
+CON. Well, I must show now what you have to do, for I myself, before I
+came to this prefermity, was as simple as one of you: and, for your
+better destruction, I will deride my speech into two parts. First, what
+is a watchman? Secondly, what is the office of a watchman? For the
+first, if any man ask me what is a watchman, I may answer him, he is a
+man, as others are; nay, a tradesman, as a vintner, a tailor, or the
+like, for they have long bills.
+
+3D WATCH. He tells us true, neighbour, we have bills[436] indeed.
+
+CON. For the second, what is his office? I answer, he may, by virtue of
+his office, reprehend any person or persons that walk the streets too
+late at a seasonable hour.
+
+4TH WATCH. May we indeed, master constable?
+
+CON. Nay, if you meet any of those rogues at seasonable hours, you may,
+by virtue of your office, commit him to prison, and then ask him whither
+he was going.
+
+1ST WATCH. Why, that's as much as my lord mayor does.
+
+CON. True, my lord mayor can do no more than you in that point.
+
+2D WATCH. But, master constable, what, if he should resist us?
+
+CON. Why, if he do resist, you may knock him down, and then bid him
+stand, and come before the constable. So now I think you are
+sufficiently instructed concerning your office. Take your stands: you
+shall hear rogues walking at these seasonable hours, I warrant you:
+stand close.
+
+_Enter_ EUGENIO.
+
+EUG. Now do I take as much care to be apprehended as others do to 'scape
+the watch: I must speak to be overheard, and plainly too, or else these
+dolts will never conceive me.
+
+CON. Hark, who goes by?
+
+EUG. O my conscience, my conscience! the terror of a guilty conscience!
+
+CON. How, conscience talks he of! he's an honest man, I warrant him: let
+him pass.
+
+2D WATCH. Ay, ay, let him pass. Good night, honest gentleman.
+
+EUG. These are wise officers, I must be plainer yet. That gold, that
+cursed gold, that made me poison him--made me poison Eugenio.
+
+CON. How, made me poison him! he's a knave, I warrant him.
+
+3D WATCH. Master constable has found him already.
+
+CON. I warrant you, a knave cannot pass me. Go, reprehend him; I'll take
+his excommunication myself.
+
+1ST WATCH. Come afore the constable.
+
+2D WATCH. Come afore the constable.
+
+CON. Sirrah, sirrah, you would have 'scaped, would you? No, sirrah, you
+shall know the king's officers have eyes to hear such rogues as you.
+Come, sirrah, confess who it was you poisoned. He looks like a notable
+rogue.
+
+1ST WATCH. I do not like his looks.
+
+2D WATCH. Nor I.
+
+CON. You would deny it, would you, sirrah? We shall sift you.
+
+EUG. Alas, master constable! I cannot now deny what I have said: you
+overheard me; I poisoned Eugenio, son to Lord Polymetes.
+
+1ST WATCH. O rascal!
+
+2D WATCH. My young landlord!
+
+CON. Let him alone, the law shall punish him; but, sirrah, where did you
+poison him?
+
+EUG. About a day's journey hence; as he was coming home from Athens, I
+met him, and poisoned him.
+
+CON. But, sirrah, who set you a-work? Confess--I shall find out the
+whole nest of these rogues--speak.
+
+EUG. Count Virro hired me to do it.
+
+CON. O lying rascal!
+
+1ST WATCH. Nay, he that will steal will lie.
+
+2D WATCH. I'll believe nothing he says.
+
+3D WATCH. Belie a man of worship!
+
+4TH WATCH. A nobleman!
+
+CON. Away with him, I'll hear no more. Remit him to prison. Sirrah, you
+shall hear of these things to-morrow, where you would be loth to hear
+them. Come, let's go. [_Exeunt._
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+  [434] This book, entitled "The Tax of the Roman Chancery," which has
+  been several times translated into English, was first published at
+  Rome in the year [1471]. It furnishes the most flagrant instances of
+  the abominable profligacy of the Roman court at that time. Among other
+  passages in it are the following: "Absolutio a lapsu carnis super
+  quocunque actu libidinoso commisso per clericum, etiam cum monialibus,
+  intra et extra septa monasterii; aut cum consanguineis vel affinibus,
+  aut filia spirituali, aut quibusdam aliis, sive ab unoquoque de per
+  se, sive simul ab omnibus absolutio petatur cum dispensatione ad
+  ordines et beneficia, cum inhibitione tur. 36. duc. 3. Si vero cum
+  illis petatur absolutio etiam a crimine commisso contra naturam, vel
+  cum brutis, cum dispensatione ut supra, et cum inhibitione tur. 90.
+  duc. 12. car. 16. Si vero petatur tantum absolutio a crimine contra
+  naturam, vel cum brutis, cum dispensatione et inhibitione, turon 36.
+  duc. 9. Absolutio pro moniali qui se permisit pluries cognosci intra
+  vel extra septa monasterii, cum rehabilitate ad dignitates illius
+  ordinis etiam abbatialem, turon 36. duc. 9." In the edition of Bois le
+  Duc there is "Absolutio pro eo, qui interfecit patrem, matrem,
+  sororem, uxorem..... g. 5. vel. 7." See Bayle, art. Banck.
+
+  [435] This Constable and Watch are poor imitations of Shakespeare's
+  Dogberry, &c., in "Much Ado about Nothing."--_Steevens._
+
+  [436] A pun upon the word bills is here intended, by confounding the
+  _bills_ of tradesmen with the _bills_ or arms formerly carried by
+  watchmen. Thus in [Munday's] curious old comedy, obviously translated
+  from the Italian, with some adaptations to English customs, called the
+  "Two Italian Gentlemen," we meet with the following direction:--"Enter
+  Fedele with Pedante, and with them two _watchmen with bills_," act iv.
+  sc. 5, sig. F 2.--_Collier._
+
+
+
+
+ACT V.
+
+
+_Enter_ FRANKLIN, SHALLOW, LUCE, FRANCISCO _in a parson's habit, and a
+true_ PARSON _otherwise attired_.
+
+    FRANK. I'll take your counsel, sir, I'll not be seen in't,
+    But meet you when 'tis done: you'll marry them?
+
+    FRAN. Fear not that, sir; I'll do the deed.
+
+    FRANK. I shall Rest thankful to you; till then I'll leave you.
+
+SHAL. I pray, father, leave us, we know how to behave ourselves alone;
+methinks, Luce, we are too many by two yet.
+
+    LUCE. You are merry, sir.                           [_Exeunt._
+
+
+_Manet_ FRANKLIN.
+
+    FRANK. Now they are sure, or never! poor Francisco,
+    Thou mett'st thy match, when thou durst undertake
+    To o'erreach me with tricks. Where's now your sumner?
+    'Fore heaven, I cannot but applaud my brain,
+    To take my daughter even against her will,
+    And great with child by another, her shame publish'd,
+    She cited to the court, and yet bestow her
+    On such a fortune as rich Shallow is:
+    Nay, that which is the masterpiece of all,
+    Make him believe 'tis his, though he ne'er touch'd her.
+    If men ne'er met with crosses in the world,
+    There were no difference 'twixt the wise and fools.
+    But I'll go meet them; when 'tis done, I fear not.    [_Exit._
+
+_Enter_ FRANCISCO, PARSON, SHALLOW, LUCE.
+
+    FRANC. Nay, fret not now; you had been worse abus'd,
+    If you had married her: she never lov'd you.
+
+LUCE. I ever scorned thy folly, and hated thee; though sometimes afore
+my father I would make an ass of thee.
+
+SHAL. O women, monstrous women! little does her father know who has
+married her.
+
+LUCE. Yes, he knows the parson married me, and you can witness that.
+
+FRANC. And he shall know the parson will lie with her.
+
+SHAL. Well, parson, I will be revenged on all thy coat: I will not
+plough an acre of ground for you to tithe, I'll rather pasture my
+neighbour's cattle for nothing.
+
+PAR. O, be more charitable, sir; bid God give them joy.
+
+SHAL. I care not greatly if I do: he is not the first parson that has
+taken a gentleman's leavings.
+
+FRANC. How mean you, sir?
+
+SHAL. You guess my meaning. I hope to have good luck to horse flesh, now
+she is a parson's wife?
+
+FRANC. You have lain with her, then, sir.
+
+SHAL. I cannot tell you that; but if you saw a woman with child without
+lying with a man, then perhaps I have not.
+
+LUCE. Impudent coxcomb! Barest thou say that ever thou layest with me?
+Didst thou ever so much as kiss my hand in private?
+
+SHAL. These things must not be spoken of in company.
+
+LUCE. Thou know'st I ever hated thee.
+
+SHAL. But when you were i' th' good humour, you would tell me another
+tale.
+
+    LUCE. The fool is mad; by heaven, my Francisco, I am wronged!
+                                          [_He discovers himself._
+
+FRANC. Then I must change my note. Sirrah, unsay what you have spoken;
+swear here before the parson and myself you never touched her, or I'll
+cut thy throat: it is Francisco threatens thee.
+
+SHAL. I am in a sweet case, what should I do now? Her father thinks I
+have lain with her: if I deny it, he'll have a bout with me: if I say I
+have, this young rogue will cut my throat.
+
+FRANC. Come, will you swear?
+
+SHAL. I would I were fairly off; I would lose my wench with all my
+heart. I swear.
+
+FRANC. So now thou art free from any imputation that his tongue can
+stick upon thee. [_To_ LUCE.]
+
+_Enter_ FRANKLIN.
+
+FRANK. Well, now I see 'tis done.
+
+SHAL. Here's one shall talk with you.
+
+FRANK. God give you joy, son Shallow.
+
+FRANC. I thank you, father.
+
+FRANK. How's this, Francisco in the parson's habit?
+
+FRANC. I have married her, as you bad me, sir; but this was the truer
+parson of the two: he tied the knot, and this gentleman is our witness.
+
+FRANK. I am undone! strumpet, thou hast betrayed thyself to beggary, to
+shame besides, and that in open court: but take what thou hast sought:
+hang, beg, and starve, I'll never pity thee.
+
+LUCE. Good sir!
+
+SHAL. I told you what would come on't.
+
+FRANK. How did your wisdom lose her?
+
+SHAL. E'en as you see; I was beguiled, and so were you.
+
+FRANK. Francisco, take her; thou seest the portion thou art like to
+have.
+
+FRANC. 'Tis such a portion as will ever please me: but for her sake be
+not unnatural.
+
+LUCE. Do not reject me, father.
+
+FRANC. But for the fault that she must answer for, or shame she should
+endure in court, behold her yet an untouched virgin. Cushion, come
+forth; here, Signior Shallow, take your child unto you, make much of it,
+it may prove as wise as the father. [_He flings the cushion at him._
+
+    MATHO. None, my lord.
+
+    KING. Surely there may; speak, man: I'll give thee double fees.
+
+    MATHO. It cannot be, my liege; the statute is plain.
+
+FRANK. This is more strange than t'other: ah, Luce! wert thou so subtle
+to deceive thyself and me? Well, take thy fortune, 'tis thine own
+choice.
+
+FRANC. Sir, we can force no bounty from you, and therefore must rest
+content with what your pleasure is.
+
+_Enter_ EUPHUES, ALPHONSO.
+
+ALPH. Yonder he is, my lord; that's he in the parson's habit; he is thus
+disguised about the business I told you of. Lysandro, see your noble
+father.
+
+    EUPH. Welcome, my long-lost son, from all the storms
+    Of frowning fortune that thou hast endur'd,
+    Into thy father's arms.
+
+    LUCE. Is my Francisco noble?
+
+    FRANK. Lord Euphues' son! I am amaz'd.
+
+    EUPH. I hear, Lysandro, that you are married.
+
+FRANC. Yes, my lord; this is my bride, the daughter and heir of this
+rich gentleman. 'Twas only she that, when my state was nothing, my poor
+self and parentage unknown, vouchsafed to know me--nay, grace me with
+her love, her constant love.
+
+    EUPH. Such merit must not be forgot, my son.
+    Daughter, much joy attend upon your choice.
+
+    FRANC. Now wants but your consent.
+
+    FRANK. Which with a willing heart I do bestow.
+    Pardon me, worthy son, I have so long
+    Been hard to you: 'twas ignorance
+    Of what you were, and care I took for her.
+
+    FRANC. Your care needs no apology.
+
+    EUPH. But now, Lysandro, I must make thee sad
+    Upon thy wedding-day, and let thee know
+    There is no pure and uncompounded joy
+    Lent to mortality: in depth of woe
+    Thou mett'st the knowledge of thy parentage;
+    Thy elder brother Philocles must die:
+    And in his tragedy our name and house
+    Had sunk for ever, had not gracious heaven
+    Sent, as a comfort to my childless age,
+    Thy long-lost self, supporter of the name.
+
+    FRANC. But can there be no means to save his life?
+
+    EUPH. Alas! there's none--the king has taken an oath
+    Never to pardon him; but since, they say,
+    His majesty repents, and fain would save him.
+
+    FRANC. Then am I wretched: like a man long blind,
+    That comes at last to see the wish'd-for sun,
+    But finds it in eclipse: such is my case,
+    To meet in this dark woe my dearest friends.
+
+    EUPH. Had you not heard this news before, Lysandro?
+
+    FRANC. Yes, sir, and did lament
+    As for a worthy stranger, but ne'er knew
+    My sorrow stood engag'd by such a tie
+    As brotherhood. Where may we see him, sir?
+
+    EUPH. This morning he's arraigned. Put off
+    That habit you are in, and go along with me;
+    Leave your friends here awhile.
+
+    FRANC. Farewell, father; dear Luce, till soon[437] farewell:
+    Nought but so sad a chance could make me cloudy now. [_Exeunt._
+
+FRANK. Well, Luce, thy choice has proved better than we expected; but
+this cloud of grief has dimmed our mirth, but will, I hope, blow over.
+Heaven grant it may! And, Signior Shallow, though you have missed what
+my love meant you once, pray be my guest.
+
+    SHAL. I thank you, sir; I'll not be strange.        [_Exeunt._
+
+_The Court._--_Enter_ KING, NICANOR.
+
+    KING. Nicanor, I would find some privy place,
+    Where I might stand unseen, unknown of any,
+    To hear th' arraignment of young Philocles.
+
+    NIC. The judges are now entering: please you, sir,
+    Here to ascend: you may both hear and see.
+
+    KING. Well, I'll go up;
+    And, like a jealous husband, hear and see
+    That that will strike me dead. Am I a king,
+    And cannot pardon such a small offence?
+    I cannot do't, nor am I Cæsar now.
+    Lust has uncrown'd me, and my rash-ta'en oath
+    Has reft me of a king's prerogative.
+    Come, come, Nicanor, help me to ascend,
+    And see that fault that I want pow'r to mend.   [_They ascend._
+
+_Enter three_ JUDGES, VIRRO, POLYMETES, EUPHUES, FRANCISCO, LEUCOTHOË,
+CLERIMONT, ROSCIO.
+
+1ST JUDGE. Bring forth the prisoner: where are the witnesses?
+
+POL. Here, my lords. I am the wronged party, and the fact my man here,
+besides the officers that took them, can justify.
+
+2D JUDGE. That's enough.
+
+_Enter_ PHILOCLES, _with a guard_.
+
+    1ST JUDGE. Philocles, stand to the bar, and answer to such crimes,
+    As shall be here objected 'gainst thy life.
+    Read the indictment.
+
+    PHIL. Spare that labour;
+    I do confess the fact that I am charg'd with,
+    And speak as much as my accusers can--
+    As much as all the witnesses can prove.
+    'Twas I that stole away the daughter and heir
+    Of Lord Polymetes, which were't to do again,
+    Rather than lose her, I again would venture.
+    This was the fact: your sentence, honour'd fathers.
+
+    CLER. 'Tis brave and resolute.
+
+    1ST JUDGE. A heavy sentence, noble Philocles;
+    And such a one as I could wish myself
+    Off from this place some other might deliver.
+    You must die for it: death is your sentence.
+
+    PHIL. Which I embrace with willingness. Now, my lord,
+    Is your hate glutted yet, or is my life       [_To_ POLYMETES.
+    Too poor a sacrifice to appease the rancour
+    Of your inveterate malice? If it be too,[438]
+    Invent some scandal, that may after blot
+    My reputation. Father, dry your tears,          [_To_ EUPHUES.
+    Weep not for me; my death shall leave no stain
+    Upon your blood, nor blot on your fair name.
+    The honour'd ashes of my ancestors
+    May still rest quiet in their tear-wet urns
+    For any fact of mine. I might have liv'd,
+    If heaven had not prevented it, and found
+    Death for some foul dishonourable act.
+    Brother, farewell; no sooner have I found     [_To_ FRANCISCO.
+    But I must leave thy wish'd-for company.
+    Farewell, my dearest love; live thou still happy;
+    And may some one of more desert than I
+    Be bless'd in the enjoying what I lose!
+    I need not wish him happiness that has thee,
+    For thou wilt bring it; may he prove as good
+    As thou art worthy.
+
+    LEU. Dearest Philocles,
+    There is no room for any man but thee
+    Within this breast. O good my lords,
+    Be merciful, condemn us both together,
+    Our faults are both alike; why should the law
+    Be partial thus, and lay it all on him?
+
+    1ST JUDGE. Lady, I would we could as lawfully
+    Save him as you: he should not die for this.
+
+_Enter_ CONSTABLE, _leading_ EUGENIO.
+
+    How now, who's that you have brought there?
+
+    CON. A benefactor, an it please your lordships;
+    I reprehended him in my watch last night.
+
+VIR. Irus is taken.
+
+2D JUDGE. What's his offence?
+
+CON. Murder.
+
+WATCH. No, Master Constable, 'twas but poisoning of a man.
+
+CON. Go, thou art a fool.
+
+VIR. I am undone for ever; all will out.
+
+3D JUDGE. What proofs have you against him?
+
+CON. His own profession, if it please your honour.
+
+3D JUDGE. And that's an ill profession--to be a murderer. Thou meanest
+he has confessed the fact.
+
+CON. Yes, my lord, he cannot deny it.
+
+1ST JUDGE. Did he not name the party who it was that he had poisoned?
+
+CON. Marry, with reverence be it spoken, it was Eugenio, my Lord
+Polymetes' son.
+
+POL. How's this?
+
+1ST JUDGE. He died long since at Athens.
+
+    POL. I cannot tell what I should think of it:
+    This is the man that lately brought me news
+    My son was living.
+
+    2D JUDGE. Fellow, stand to the bar;
+    Thou hearest thy accusation; what canst thou say?
+
+    EUG. Ah, my good lord!
+    I cannot now deny what I have said.
+    This man o'erheard me, as my bleeding heart
+    Was making a confession of my crime.
+
+    CON. I told him, an't shall please your lordships,
+    The king's officers had eyes to hear such rascals.
+
+    1ST JUDGE. You have been careful in your office, constable;
+    You may now leave your prisoner.
+
+    CON. I'll leave the felon with your lordship.
+
+    1ST JUDGE. Farewell, good constable: murder, I see, will out.
+    Why didst thou poison him?                  [_Exit_ CONSTABLE.
+
+    EUG. I was poor, and want made me be hired.
+
+    2D JUDGE. Hired by whom?
+
+    EUG. By Count Virro; there he stands.
+
+    VIR. I do beseech your lordships not to credit
+    What this base fellow speaks. I'm innocent.
+
+    1ST JUDGE. I do believe you are. Sirrah, speak truth;
+    You have not long to live.
+
+    EUG. Please it your lordship, I may relate the manner?
+
+    3D JUDGE. Do.
+
+    EUG. Eugenio was alive, when first the news
+    Was spread in Syracuse that he was dead;
+    Which false report Count Virro crediting,
+    Became an earnest suitor to his sister,
+    Thinking her [to be's] heir; but finding afterwards
+    Her brother liv'd, and [he was] coming home,
+    Not a day's journey hence, he sent [for] me to him,
+    And with a promise of five hundred crowns
+    Hir'd me to poison him. That this is true,
+    Here's his own hand to witness it against him:
+    Please it your lordships to peruse the writing.
+
+    1ST JUDGE. This is his hand.
+
+3D JUDGE. Sure as I live, I have seen warrants from him with just these
+characters.
+
+    3D JUDGE. Besides, methinks this fellow's tale is likely.
+
+    POL. 'Tis too true;
+    This fellow's sudden going from my house
+    Put me into a fear.
+
+    1ST JUDGE. Count Virro, stand to the bar.
+    What can you say to clear you of this murder?
+
+    VIR. Nothing, my lords; I must confess the fact.
+
+    2D JUDGE. Why, then, against you both do I pronounce
+    Sentence of death.
+
+    AMBO. The law is just.
+
+    POL. Wretch that I am, is my dissembl'd grief
+    Turn'd to true sorrow? Were my acted tears
+    But prophecies of my ensuing woe,
+    And is he truly dead? O, pardon me,
+    Dear ghost of my Eugenio, 'twas my fault
+    That called this hasty vengeance from the gods,
+    And shorten'd thus thy life; for whilst with tricks
+    I sought to fasten wealth upon our house,
+    I brought a cannibal to be the grave
+    Of me and mine. Base, bloody, murderous count.
+
+    VIR. Vile cosener! cheating lord! dissembler!
+
+    1ST JUDGE. Peace! stop the mouth of malediction, there!
+    This is no place to rail in.
+
+    EUPH. Ye just powers,
+    That to the quality of man's offence
+    Shape your correcting rods, and punish there
+    Where he has sinn'd! did not my bleeding heart
+    Bear such a heavy share in this day's woe,
+    I could with a free soul applaud your justice.
+
+    POL. Lord Euphues and Philocles, forgive me.
+    To make amends I know 's impossible,
+    For what my malice wrought; but I would fain
+    Do somewhat that might testify my grief
+    And true repentance.
+
+    EUG. That is that I look'd for.                     [_Aside._]
+
+    EUPH. Y' are kind too late, my lord: had you been thus
+    When need requir'd, y' had say'd yourself and me
+    Our hapless sons; but if your grief be true,
+    I can forgive you heartily.
+
+    PHIL. And I.
+
+    EUG. Now comes my cue. [_Aside._] My Lord Polymetes,
+    Under correction, let me ask one question.
+
+    POL. What question? speak.
+
+    EUG. If this young lord
+    Should live, would you bestow your daughter willingly
+    Upon him? would you, my lord?
+
+    POL. As willingly as I would breathe myself.
+
+    EUG. Then dry [up] all your eyes,
+    There's no man here shall have a cause to weep.
+    Your life is sav'd; Leucothoë is no heir;     [_To_ PHILOCLES.
+    Her brother lives, and that clears you, Count Virro,
+    Of your supposed murder.
+
+    ALL. How! lives?
+
+    EUG. Yes, lives to call thee brother, Philocles.
+                                          [_He discovers himself._
+
+    LEU. O my dear brother!
+
+    POL. My son, welcome from death.
+
+    EUG. Pardon me, good my lord, that I thus long
+    Have from your knowledge kept myself concealed;
+    My end was honest.
+
+    POL. I see it was.
+    And now, son Philocles, give me thy hand.
+    Here take thy wife: she loves thee, I dare swear;
+    And for the wrong that I intended thee,
+    Her portion shall be double what I meant it.
+
+    PHIL. I thank your lordship.
+
+    POL. Brother Euphues,
+    I hope all enmity is now forgot
+    Betwixt our houses.
+
+    EUPH. Let it be ever so. I do embrace your love.
+
+    VIR. Well, my life is say'd yet, [al]though my wench
+    Be lost. God give you joy.
+
+    PHIL. Thanks, good my lord.
+
+    1ST JUDGE. How suddenly this tragic scene is chang'd,
+    And turn'd to comedy!
+
+    2D JUDGE. 'Tis very strange!
+
+    POL. Let us conclude within.
+
+    KING. Stay, and take my joy with you.
+                                  [_The_ KING _speaks from above_.
+
+    EUPH. His majesty is coming down: let us attend.
+
+_Enter_ KING.
+
+    KING. These jars are well clos'd up; now, Philocles,
+    What my rash oath denied me, this bless'd hour
+    And happy accident has brought to pass--
+    The saving of thy life.
+
+    PHIL. A life, my liege,
+    That shall be ever ready to be spent
+    Upon your service.
+
+    KING. Thanks, good Philocles.
+    But where's the man whose happy presence brought
+    All this unlook'd-for sport? where is Eugenio?
+
+    EUG. Here, my dread liege.
+
+    KING. Welcome to Syracuse,
+    Welcome, Eugenio; prythee, ask some boon
+    That may requite the good that thou hast done.
+
+    EUG. I thank your majesty; what I have done
+    Needs no requital; but I have a suit
+    Unto Lord Euphues, please it your majesty
+    To be to him an intercessor for me,
+    I make no question but I shall obtain.
+
+    KING. What is it? speak; it shall be granted thee.
+
+    EUG. That it would please him to bestow on me
+    His niece, the fair and virtuous Lady Leda.
+
+    EUPH. With all my heart: I know 'twill please her well:
+    I have often heard her praise Eugenio.
+    It shall be done within.
+
+    KING. Then here all strife ends.
+    I'll be your guest myself to-day, and help
+    To solemnise this double marriage.
+
+    POL. Your royal presence shall much honour us.
+
+    KING. Then lead away: the happy knot you tie,
+    Concludes in love two houses' enmity.
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+  [437] [An uncommon form of expression, equivalent to the French
+  phrase _à bientôt_.]
+
+  [438] I think we should read _go--Pegge_. The syllable _to_ is more
+  than is required either for the sense or the measure.--_Collier_. [The
+  original has _to_, as stated; but we should read _too, i.e., if_ my
+  life be too mean a sacrifice, &c.]
+
+
+THE EPILOGUE.
+
+
+    Our heir is fall'n from her inheritance,
+    But has obtain'd her love: you may advance
+    Her higher yet; and from your pleas'd hands give
+    A dowry, that will make her truly live.
+
+
+FINIS.
+
+
+------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+Transcriber notes:
+
+  P.21 footnote 19: Taken out the extra 'g' in 'farthinggale'
+  P.324 footnote 266: 'Tintagol' needs to be 'Tintagel'. Changed.
+    Tintagel is the peninsula on the northern Cornwall coast reference.
+  Fixed various punctuation problems.
+
+  Italics is displayed as _Collier_.
+  Small caps have been replaced with all caps.
+
+------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Select Collection of Old English
+Plays (11 of 15), by W. Carew Hazlitt
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 41930 ***