path: root/50096-0.txt

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 50096 ***

                           FRANCIS BEAUMONT

                               Born 1584
                               Died 1616

                             JOHN FLETCHER

                               Born 1579
                               Died 1625




                        _BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER_

                         THIERRY AND THEODORET

                            THE WOMAN-HATER

                              NICE VALOUR

                       THE HONEST MAN'S FORTUNE

                    THE MASQUE OF THE GENTLEMEN OF
                    GRAYS-INNE AND THE INNER-TEMPLE

                          FOUR PLAYS OR MORAL
                        REPRESENTATIONS IN ONE


                          THE TEXT EDITED BY

                           A.R. WALLER, M.A.

                            [Illustration]

                              Cambridge:

                        at the University Press

                                 1912

                      CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSITY PRESS

                       London: FETTER LANE, E.C.

                          C. F. CLAY, MANAGER

                            [Illustration]

                    Edinburgh: 100, PRINCES STREET

                       Berlin: A. ASHER AND CO.

                       Leipzig: F. A. BROCKHAUS

                     New York: G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS

             Bombay and Calcutta: MACMILLAN AND CO., LTD.

                         _All rights reserved_




PREFACE


In 1905, the Syndics of the University Press asked me to complete, upon
the lines laid down in the preface to volume I, the editing of the
reprint of the Second Folio of the works of Beaumont and Fletcher which
had been begun by Arnold Glover. The present volume sees the end of the
task. In 1906, it was announced that a volume or, possibly, two volumes
of notes would follow the text. These, together with a critical text of
the scattered poems, must be left to other hands. I hoped, at one time,
to undertake this additional burden myself, but that seems now to have
become impossible.

                          A. R. WALLER

  _21 May 1912_




CONTENTS


                                                                     PAGE

    Thierry and Theodoret                                               1

    The Woman-Hater                                                    71

    Nice Valour, or The Passionate Mad-man                            143

    Mr. Francis Beaumonts Letter to Ben.
    Johnson                                                           199

    The Honest Man's Fortune                                          202

    The Masque of the Gentlemen of Grays-Inne
    and the Inner-Temple                                              281

    Four Plays or Moral Representations in
    One                                                               287

    Appendix                                                          365




THE TRAGEDY

OF

Thierry and Theodoret.




_Actus Primus. Scæna Prima._


                _Enter Theodoret, Brunhalt, Bawd[b]er._

                    BRUNHALT.

    Taxe me with these hot tainters?

    _Theodoret._ You are too sudain;
    I doe but gently tell you what becomes you
    And what may bend your honor! how these courses
    Of loose and lazie pleasures; not suspected
    But done and known, your mind that grants no limit
    And all your Actions follows, which loose people
    That see but through a mist of circumstance
    Dare term ambitious; all your wayes hide sores
    Opening in the end to nothing but ulcers.
    Your instruments like these may call the world
    And with a fearfull clamor, to examine
    Why, and to what we govern. From example
    If not for vertues sake ye may be honest:
    There have been great ones, good ones, and 'tis necessary
    Because you are your self, and by your self
    A self-peece from the touch of power and Justice,
    You should command your self, you may imagine
    Which cozens all the world, but chiefly women
    The name of greatness glorifies your actions
    And strong power like a pent-house, promise[s]
    To shade you from opinion; Take heed mother,
    And let us all take heed these most abuse us
    The sins we doe, people behold through opticks,
    Which shews them ten times more than common vices,
    And often multiplys them: Then what justice
    Dare we inflict upon the weak offenders
    When we are theeves our selves?

    _Brun._ This is, _Martell_,
    Studied and pen'd unto you, whose base person
    I charge you by the love you owe a mother
    And as you hope for blessings from her prayers,
    Neither to give belief to, nor allowance,
    Next I tell you Sir, you from whom obedience
    Is so far fled, that you dare taxe a mother;
    Nay further, brand her honor with your slanders,
    And break into the treasures of her credit,
    Your easiness is abused, your faith fraited
    With lyes, malitious lyes, your merchant mischief,
    He that never knew more trade then Tales, and tumbling
    Suspitious into honest hearts; What you or he,
    Or all the world dare lay upon my worth,
    This for your poor opinions: I am shee,
    And so will bear my self, whose truth and whiteness
    Shall ever stand as far from these detections
    As you from dutie, get you better servants
    People of honest actions without ends,
    And whip these knaves away, they eat your favours,
    And turn 'em unto poysons: my known credit
    Whom all the Courts o' this side _Nile_ have envied,
    And happy she could site me, brought in question
    Now in my hours of age and reverence,
    When rather superstition should be rendred
    And by a Rush that one days warmth
    Hath shot up to this swelling; Give me justice,
    Which is his life.

    _Theod._ This is an impudence, and he must tell you, that till now
    mother brought ye a sons obedience, and now breaks it Above the
    sufferance of a Son.

    _Bawd._ Bless us!

    For I doe now begin to feel my self
    Turning into a halter, and the ladder
    Turning from me, one pulling at my legs too.

    _Theod._ These truths are no mans tales, but all mens troubles,
    They are, though your strange greatness would out-stare u'm:
    Witness the daily Libels, almost Ballads
    In every place, almost in every Province,
    Are made upon your lust, Tavern discourses,
    Crowds cram'd with whispers; Nay, the holy Temples,
    Are not without your curses: Now you would blush,
    But your black tainted blood dare not appear
    For fear I should fright that too.

    _Brun._ O ye gods!

    _Theod._ Do not abuse their names: They see your actions
    And your conceal'd sins, though you work like Moles,
    Lies level to their justice.

    _Brun._ Art thou a Son?

    _Theod._ The more my shame is of so bad a mother,
    And more your wretchedness you let me be so;
    But woma[n], for a mothers name hath left me
    Since you have left your honor; Mend these ruins,
    And build again that broken fame, and fairly;
    Your most intemperate fires have burnt, and quickly
    Within these ten days take a Monasterie,
    A most strickt house; a house where none may whisper,
    Where no more light is known but what may make ye
    Believe there is a day where no hope dwells,
    Nor comfort but in tears.

    _Brun._ O miserie!

    _Theod._ And there to cold repentance, and starv'd penance
    Tye your succeeding days; Or curse me heaven
    If all your guilded knaves, brokers, and bedders,
    Even he you built from nothing, strong _Protal[dy]e_,
    Be not made ambling Geldings; All your maids,
    If that name doe not shame 'em, fed with spunges
    To suck away their ranckness; And your self
    Onely to empty Pictures and dead Arras
    Offer your old desires.

    _Brun._ I will not curse you,
    Nor lay a prophesie upon your pride,
    Though heaven might grant me both: unthankfull, no,
    I nourish'd ye, 'twas I, poor I groan'd for you,
    'Twas I felt what you suffer'd, I lamented
    When sickness or sad hours held back your swe[e]tness;
    'Twas I pay'd for your sleeps, I watchd your wakings:
    My daily cares and fears, that rid, plaid, walk'd,
    Discours'd, discover'd, fed and fashion'd you
    To what you are, and I am thus rewarded.

    _Theod._ But that I know these tears I could dote on 'em,
    And kneell to catch 'em as they fall, then knit 'em
    Into an Armlet, ever to be honor'd;
    But woman they are dangerous drops, deceitfull,
    Full of the weeper, anger and ill nature.

    _Brun._ In my last hours despis'd.

    _Theod._ That Text should tell
    How ugly it becomes you to err thus;
    Your flames are spent, nothing but smoke maintains ye;
    And those your favour and your bounty suffers
    Lye not with you, they do but lay lust on you
    And then imbrace you as they caught a palsie;
    Your power they may love, and like spanish Jennetts
    Commit with such a gust.

    _Bawd._ I would take whipping,
    And pay a fine now.                                 [_Exit Bawdber._

    _Theod._ But were ye once disgraced,
    Or fallen in wealth, like leaves they would flie from you,
    And become browse for every beast; You will'd me
    To stock my self with better friends, and servants,
    With what face dare you see me, or any mankind,
    That keep a race of such unheard of relicks,
    Bawds, Leachers, Letches, female fornications,
    And children in their rudiments to vices,
    Old men to shew examples: and lest Art
    Should loose her self in act, to call back custome,
    Leave these, and live like _Niobe_. I told you how
    And when your eyes have dropt away remembrance
    Of what you were. I 'm your Son! performe it.

    _Brun._ Am I a woman, and no more power in me,
    To tye this Tyger up, a soul to no end,
    Have I got shame and lost my will? _Brunhalt_
    From this accursed hour, forget thou bor'st him,
    Or any part of thy blood gave him living,
    Let him be to thee an Antipathy,
    A thing thy nature sweats at, and turns backward:
    Throw all the mischiefs on him that thy self,
    Or woman worse than thou art, have invented,
    And kill him drunk, or doubtfull.

               _Enter Bawd[b]er_, _Protaldie_, _Lecure_.

    _Bawd._ Such a sweat,
    I never was in yet, clipt of my minstrels,
    My toyes to prick up wenches withall; Uphold me,
    It runs like snow-balls through me.

    _Brun._ Now my varlets,
    My slaves, my running thoughts, my executions.

    _Baw._ Lord how she looks!

    _Brun._ Hell take ye all.

    _Baw._ We shall be gelt.

    _Brun._ Your Mistress,
    Your old and honor'd Mistress, you tyr'd curtals
    Suffers for your base sins; I must be cloyster'd,
    Mew'd up to make me virtuous who can help this?
    Now you stand still like Statues; Come _Protaldye_,
    One kiss before I perish, kiss me strongly,
    Another, and a third.

    _Lecure._ I fear not gelding
    As long [as] she holds this way.

    _Brun._ The young courser
    That unli[c]kt lumpe of mine, will win thy Mistriss;
    Must I be chast _Protaldye_?

    _Pro._ Thus and thus Lady.

    _Brun._ It shall be so, let him seek fools for Vestalls,
    Here is my Cloyster.

    _Lecure._ But what safety Madam
    Find you in staying here?

    _Brun._ Thou hast hit my meaning,
    I will to _Thierry_ Son of my blessings,
    And there complain me, tell my tale so subtilly,
    That the cold stones shall sweat; And Statues mourn,
    And thou shall weep _Protaldye_ in my witness,
    And there forswear.

    _Bawd._ Yes, any thing but gelding,
    I'm not yet in quiet Noble Lady,
    Let it be done to night, for without doubt
    To morrow we are capons.

    _Brun._ Sleep shall not seize me,
    Nor any food befriend me but thy kisses,
    E're I forsake this desart, I live honest;
    He may as well bid dead men walk, I humbled,
    Or bent below my power; let night-dogs tear me,
    And goblins ride me in my sleep to jelly,
    Ere I forsake my sphear.

    _Lecure._ This place you will.

    _Brun._ What's that to you, or any,
    Ye doss, you powder'd pigsbones, rubarbe glister:
    Must you know my designs? a colledge on you,
    The proverbe makes but fools.

    _Prota._ But Noble Lady.

    _Brun._ You a sawcie ass too, off I will not,
    If you but anger me, till a sow-gelder
    Have cut you all like colts, hold me and kiss me,
    For I'm too much troubled; Make up my treasure,
    And get me horses private, come about it.                 [_Exeunt._


[_Act. I. Scæ. 2._]

                    _Enter Theodoret, Martell, &c._

    _Theod._ Though I assure my self (_Martell_) your counsell
    Had no end but allegeance and my honor:
    Yet [I am] jealous, I have pass'd the bounds
    Of a sons duty; For suppose her worse
    Than you report, not by bare circumstance,
    But evident proof confirm'd has given her out:
    Yet since all weakness[es] in a kingdome, are
    No more to be severely punished than
    The faults of Kings are by the Thunderer
    As oft as they offend, to be reveng'd:
    If not for piety, yet for policie,
    Since some are of necessitie to be spar'd,
    I might, and now I wish I had not look'd
    With such strict eyes into her follies.

    _Mart._ Sir, a duty well discharg'd is never follow'd
    By sad repentance, nor did your Highness ever
    Make payment of the debt you ow'd her, better
    Than in your late reproofs not of her, but
    Those crimes that made her worthy of reproof.
    The most remarkeable point in which Kings differ
    From private men, is that they not alone
    Stand bound to be in themselves innocent,
    But that all such as are allyed to them
    In nearness, [or] dependance, by their care
    Should be free from suspition of all crime;
    And you have reap'd a double benefit
    From this last great act: first in the restraint
    Of her lost pleasures, you remove th' example
    From others of the like licentiousness,
    Then when 'tis known that your severitie
    Extended to your mother, who dares hope for
    The least indulgence or connivence in
    The easiest slips that may prove dangerous
    To you, or to the Kingdome?

    _Theod._ I must grant
    Your reason[s] good (_Martell_) if as she is
    My mother, she had been my subject, or
    That only here she could make challenge to
    A place of Being; But I know her temper
    And fear (if such a word become a King,)
    That in discovering her, I have let lo[o]se
    A Tygress, whose rage being shut up in darkness,
    Was grievous only to her self; Which brought
    Into the view of light, her cruelty,
    Provok'd by her own shame, will turn on him
    That foolishly presum'd to let her see
    The loath'd shape of her own deformitie.

    _Mart._ Beasts of that nature, when rebellious threats
    Begin to appear only in their eyes,
    Or any motion that may give suspition
    Of the least violence should be chain'd up;
    Their fangs and teeth, and all their means of hurt,
    Par'd off, and knockt out, and so made unable
    To do ill; They would soon begin to loath it.
    I'll apply nothing: but had your Grace done,
    Or would doe yet, what your less forward zeal
    In words did only threaten, far less danger
    Would grow from acting it on her, than may
    Perhaps have Being from her apprehension
    Of what may once be practis'd: For believe it,
    Who confident of his own power, presumes
    To spend threats on an enemy, that hath means
    To shun the worst they can effect, gives armor
    To keep off his own strength; Nay more, disarms
    Himself, and lyes unguarded 'gainst all harms,
    Or doubt, or malice may produce.

    _Theod._ 'Tis true.
    And such a desperate cure I would have us'd,
    If the intemperate patient had not been
    So near me as a mother; but to her,
    And from me gentle unguents only were
    To be appli'd: and as physitians
    When they are sick of fevers, eat themselves
    Such viands as by their directions are
    Forbid to others though alike diseas'd;
    So she considering what she is, may challenge
    Those cordialls to restore her, by her birth,
    And priviledge, which at no suit must be
    Granted to others.

    _Mart._ May your pious care
    Effect but what it aim'd at, I am silent.

                           _Enter Devitry._

    _Theod._ What laught you at Sir?

    _Vitry._ I have some occasion,
    I should not else; And the same cause perhaps
    That makes me do so, may beget in you
    A contrary effect.

    _Theod._ Why, what's the matter?

    _Vitry._ I see and joy to see that sometimes poor men,
    (And most of [such] are good) stand more indebted
    For [meanes] to breathe to such as are held vitious,
    Than those that wear, like Hypocrites on their foreheads,
    Th'ambitious titles of just men and vertuous.

    _Mart._ Speak to the purpose.

    _Vitry._ Who would e'er have thought
    The good old Queen, your Highness reverend mother,
    Into whose house (which was an Academ,)
    In which all principles of lust were practis'd:
    No soldier might presume to set his foot;
    At whose most blessed intercession
    All offices in the state, were charitably
    Confer'd on Panders, o'erworn chamber wrestlers,
    And such physitians as knew how to kill
    With safety under the pretence of saving,
    And such like children of a monstrous peace,
    That she I say should at the length provide
    That men of war, and honest younger brothers,
    That would not owe their feeding to their cod-peece,
    Should be esteem'd of more than mothers, or drones,
    Or idle vagabonds.

    _Theod._ I am glad to hear it,
    Prethee what course takes she to doe this?

    _Vitry._ One that cannot fail, she and her virtuous train,
    With her jewels, and all that was worthy the carrying,
    The last night left the court, and, as 'tis more
    Than said, for 'tis confirm'd by such as met her,
    She's fled unto your brother.

    _Theod._ How?

    _Vitry._ Nay storm not,
    For if that wicked tongue of hers hath not
    Forgot [its] pace, and _Thierry_ be a Prince
    Of such a fiery temper, as report
    Has given him out for; You shall have cause to use
    Such poor men as my self; And thank us too
    For comming to you, and without petitions;
    Pray heaven reward the good old woman for't.

    _Mart._ I foresaw this.

    _Theod._ I hear a tempest comming,
    That sings mine & my kingdomes ruin: haste,
    And cause a troop of horse to fetch her back:
    Yet stay, why should I use means to bring in
    A plague that of her self hath left me? Muster
    Our Soldiers up, we'll stand upon our guard,
    For we shall be attempted; Yet forbear
    The inequality of our powers will yield me
    Nothing but loss in their defeature: something
    Must be done, and done suddainly, save your labor,
    In this I'll use no counsell but mine own,
    That course though dangerous is best. Command
    Our daughter be in readiness, to attend us:
    _Martell_, your company, and honest _Vitry_,
    Thou wilt along with me.

    _Vitry._ Yes any where,
    To be worse than I 'm here, is past my fear.              [_Exeunt._




_Actus Secundus. Scæna Prima._


            _Enter Thierry, Brunhalt, Bawdber, Lecure, &c._

    _Thier._ You are here in a sanctuary; and that viper
    (Who since he hath forgot to be a Son,
    I much disdain to think of as a brother)
    Had better, in despight of all the gods,
    To have raiz'd their Temples, and spurn'd down their Altars,
    Than in his impious abuse of you,
    To have call'd on my just anger.

    _Brun._ Princely Son;
    And in this, worthy of a near name
    I have in the relation of my wrongs,
    Been modest, and no word my tongue deliver'd
    T'express my insupportable injuries,
    But gave my heart a wound: Nor has my grief
    Being from what I suffer; But that he,
    Degenerate as he is, should be the actor
    Of my extremes; And force me to divide
    The [fires] of brotherly affection,
    Which should make but one flame.

    _Thier._ That part of his
    As it deserves shall burn no more: [if or]
    The tears of Orphans, Widows, or all such
    As dare acknowledge him to be their Lord,
    Joyn'd to your wrongs, with his heart blood have power
    To put it out: and you, and these your servants,
    Who in our favours shal find cause to know
    In that they left not you, how dear we hold them;
    Shal[l] give _Theodoret_ to understand,
    His ignorance of the prizeless Jewel, which
    He did possess in you, mother in you,
    Of which I am more proud to be the donor,
    Than if th' absolute rule of all the world
    Were offer'd to this hand; Once more you are welcome,
    Which with all ceremony due to greatness
    I would make known, but that our just revenge
    Admits not of delay; Your hand Lord Generall.

                   _Enter Protaldie, with soldiers._

    _Brun._ Your favor and his merit I may say
    Have made him such, but I am jelous how
    Your subjects will receive it.

    _Thier._ How my subjects?
    What doe you make of me? Oh heaven! My subjects!
    How base should I esteem the name of Prince
    If that poor dust were any thing before
    The whirle-wind of my absolute command?
    Let 'em be happy and rest so contented:
    They pay the tribute of their hearts & knees,
    To such a Prince that not alone has power,
    To keep his own but to increase it; That
    Although he hath a body may add to
    The fam'd night labor of strong _Hercules_:
    Yet is the master of a continence
    That so can temper it, that I forbear
    Their daughters, and their wives, whose hands though strong,
    As yet have never drawn by unjust mean
    Their proper wealth into my treasury,
    But I grow glorious, and let them beware
    That in their least repining at my pleasures,
    They change not a mild Prince, (for if provok'd
    I dare and will be so) into a Tyrant.

    _Brun._ You see there's hope that we shall rule again,
    And your fal'n fortunes rise.

    _Bawd._ I hope your Highness
    Is pleas'd that I should still hold my place with you;
    For I have been so long us'd to provide you
    Fresh bits of flesh since mine grew stale, that surely
    If cashir'd now, I shall prove a bad Cator
    In the Fish-market of cold chastity.

    _Lecure._ For me I am your own, nor since I first
    Knew what it was to serve you, have remembred
    I had a soul, but such [a] one whose essence
    Depended wholy on your Highness pleasure,
    And therefore Madam--

    _Brun._ Rest assur'd you are
    Such instruments we must not lose.

    _Lecure. Bawd._ Our service.

    _Thier._ You have view'd them then, what's your opinion of them?
    In this dull time of peace, we have prepar'd 'em
    Apt for the war. Ha?

    _Prota._ Sir, they have limbs
    That promise strength sufficient, and rich armors
    The Soldiers best lov'd wealth: More, it appears
    They have been drill'd, nay very pretily drill'd:
    For many of them can discharge their muskets
    Without the danger of throwing off their heads,
    Or being offensive to the standers by,
    By sweating too much backwards; Nay I find
    They know the right, and left hand file, and may
    With some impulsion no doubt be brought
    To pass the _A_, _B_, _C_, of war, and come
    Unto the Horn-book.

    _Thier._ Well, that care is yours;
    And see that you effect it.

    _Prota._ I am slow
    To promise much; But if within ten days,
    By precepts and examples, not drawn from
    Worm-eaten presidents of the _Roman_ wars
    But from mine own, I make them not transcend
    All that e'er yet bore armes, let it be said,
    _Protaldye_ brags, which would be unto me
    As hatefull as to be esteem'd a coward:
    For Sir, few Captaines know the way to win [him],
    And make the soldiers valiant. You shall [see me]
    Lie with them in their trenches, talk, and drink,
    And be together drunk; And, what seems stranger,
    We'll sometimes wench together, which once practis'd
    And with some other care and hidden acts,
    They being all made mine, I'll breath[e] into them
    Such fearless resolution and such fervor,
    That though I brought them to beseige a fort,
    Whose walls were steeple high, and cannon proof,
    Not to be undermin'd, they should fly up,
    Like swallows: and the parapet once won,
    For proof of their obedience, if I will'd them
    They should leap down again, and what is more,
    By some directions they should have from me,
    Not break their necks.

    _Thi._ This is above belief.

    _Brun._ Sir, on my knowledg[e] though he hath spoke much,
    He's able to do more.

    _Lecure._ She means on her.

    _Brun._ And howsoever in his thankfulness,
    For some few favors done him by my self,
    He left _Austracia_, not _Theodoret_,
    Though he was chiefly aim'd at, could have laid
    With all his Dukedomes power, that shame upon him,
    Which in his barborous malice to my honor,
    He swore with threats to effect.

    _Thier._ I cannot but
    Believe you Madam, thou art one degree
    Grown nearer to my heart, and I am proud
    To have in thee so glorious a plant
    Transported hither; In thy conduct, we
    Go on assur'd of conquest; our remove
    Shall be with the next Sun.

            _Enter Theod[o]ret, Memberge, Martell, Devitry._

    _Lecure._ Amazement leave me, 'tis he.

    _Bawd._ We are again undone.

    _Prot._ Our guilt hath no assurance nor defence.

    _Bawd._ If now your ever ready wit fail to protect us,
    We shall be all discover'd.

    _Brun._ Be not so
    In your amazement and your foolish fears,
    I am prepared for't.

    _Theod._ How? Not one poor welcome,
    In answer of so long a journey made
    Only to see your brother.

    _Thier._ I have stood
    Silent thus long, and am yet unresolv'd
    Whether to entertaine thee on my sword,
    As fits a parricide of a mothers honor;
    Or whether being a Prince, I yet stand bound
    (Though thou art here condemn'd) to give thee hearing
    Before I execute. What foolish hope,
    (Nay pray you forbear) or desperate madness rather,
    (Unless thou com'st assur'd, I stand in debt
    As far to all impiety as thy self)
    Has made thee bring thy neck unto the axe?
    Since looking only here, it cannot but
    Draw fresh blood from thy sear'd up conscience,
    To make thee sensible of that horror, which
    They ever bear about them, that like _Nero_,
    Like said I? Thou art worse: since thou darest strive
    In her defame to murther thine alive.

    _Theod._ That she that long since had the boldness to
    Be a bad woman, (though I wish some other
    Should so report her) could not want the cunning,
    (Since they go hand in hand) to lay fair colo[u]rs
    On her black crimes, I was resolv'd before,
    Nor make I doubt, but that she hath impoyson'd
    Your good opinion of me, and so far
    Incens'd your rage against me, that too late
    I come to plead my innocence.

    _Brun._ To excuse thy impious scandalls rather.

    _Prot._ Rather forc'd with fear to be compel'd to come.

    _Thierry._ Forbear.

    _Theod._ This moves not me, and yet had I not been
    Transported on my own integrity,
    I neither am so odious to my subjects,
    Nor yet so barren of defence, but that
    By force I could have justified my guilt,
    Had I been faulty, but since innocence
    Is to it self an hundred thousand gards,
    And that there is no Son, but though he owe
    That name to an ill mother, but stands bound
    Rather to take away with his own danger
    From the number of her faults, than for his own
    Security, to add unto them. This,
    This hath made me to prevent th'expence
    Of bloud on both sides, the injuries, the rapes,
    (Pages, that ever wait upon the war:)
    The account of all which, since you are the cause,
    Believe it, would have been required from you;
    Rather I say to offer up my daughter,
    Who living onely could revenge my death,
    With my heart blood a sacrifice to your anger
    Than that you should draw on your head more curses
    Than yet you have deserved.

    _Thier._ I do begin
    To feel an alteration in my nature,
    And in his full sail'd confidence, a showre
    Of gentle rain, that falling on the fire
    Of my hot rage hath quenched it, ha! I would
    Once more speak roughly to him, and I will,
    Yet there is something whispers to me, that
    I have said too much. How is my heart devided
    Between the duty of a Son, and love
    Due to a brother! yet I am swayed here,
    And must aske of you, how 'tis possible
    You can effect me that have learned to hate,
    Where you should pay all love?

    _Theod._ Which joyn'd with duty,
    Upon my knees I should be proud to tender,
    Had she not us'd her self so many swords
    To cut those bonds that tide me to it.

    _Thier._ Fie no more of that.

    _Theod._ Ala[s] it is a theme,
    I take no pleasure to discourse of; Would
    It could assoon be buried to the world,
    As it should die to me: nay more, I wish
    (Next to my part of heaven) that she would spend
    The last part of her life so here, that all
    Indifferent Judges might condemn me, for
    A most malicious slanderer, nay texde it
    Upon my forehead, if you hate me mother,
    Put me to such a shame, pray you do, believe it
    There is no glory that may fall upon me,
    Can equall the delight I should receive
    In that disgrace; provided the repeal
    Of your long banish'd virtues, and good name,
    Usher'd me to it.

    _Thier._ See, she shews her self
    An e[a]sie mother, which her tears confirme.

    _Theod._ 'Tis a good sign, the comfortablest rain
    I ever saw.

    _Thier._ Embrace: Why this is well,
    May never more but love in you, and duty
    On your part rise between you.

    _Bawd._ Do you hear Lord Generall,
    Does not your new stamp'd honor on the suddain
    Begin to grow sick?

    _Prota._ Yes I find it fit,
    That putting off my armor I should think of
    Some honest hospitall to retire to.

    _Bawd._ Sure although I am a bawd, yet being a Lord,
    They cannot whip me for't, what's your opinion?

    _Lecure._ The beadle will resolve you, for I cannot,
    There is something that more near concerns my self,
    That calls upon me.

    _Mart._ Note but yonder scarabs,
    That liv'd upon the dung of her base pleasures,
    How from the fear that she may yet prove honest
    Hang down their wicked heads.

    _Vitry._ What is that to me?
    Though they and all the pol[e]cats of the Court,
    Were trust together, I perceive not how
    It can advantage me a cardekue,
    To help to keep me honest.                                [_A horn._

                            _Enter a Post._

    _Thier._ How, from whence?

    _Post._ These letters will resolve your grace.

    _Thier._ What speak they?                                  [_Reads._
    How all things meet to make me this day happy?
    See mother, brother, to your reconcilement
    Another blessing almost equall to it,
    Is coming towards me; My contracted wife
    _Ordella_, daughter of wise _Datarick_,
    The King of _Aragon_ is on our confines;
    Then to arrive at such a time, when you
    Are happily here to honor with your presence
    Our long defer'd, but much wish'd nuptiall,
    Falls out above expression; Heaven be pleas'd
    That I may use these blessings powr'd on me
    With moderation.

    _Brun._ Hell and furies ayd me,
    That I may have power to avert the plagues
    That press upon me.

    _Thier._ Two dayes journy sayest thou,
    We will set forth to meet her: in the mean time
    See all things be prepar'd to entertain her;
    Nay let me have your companies, there's a Forrest
    In the midway shall yeild us hunting sport,
    To ease our travel, I'll not have a brow
    But shall wear mirth upon it, therefore clear them.
    We'll wash away all sorrow in glad feasts;
    And the war we mean to men, we'll make on beasts.

                [_Exeunt omnes, præter Brun. Bawdber, Portaldy, Lecure._

    _Brun._ Oh that I had the Magick to transforme you
    Into the shape of such, that your own hounds
    Might tear you peece-meale; Are you so stupid?
    No word of comfort? have I fed you mothers
    From my excess of moysture, with such cost
    And can you yeild no other retribution,
    But to devour your maker, pandar, sponge,
    Impoysoner, all grown barren?

    _Prota._ You your self
    That are our mover, and for whom alone
    We live, have fail'd your self in giving way
    To the reconcilement of your [sonnes].

    _Lecure._ Which if
    You had prevented, or would teach us how
    They might again be sever'd, we could easily
    Remove all other hind'rances that stop
    The passage of your pleasures.

    _Baud._ And for me,
    If I fail in my office to provide you
    Fresh delicat[e]s, hang me.

    _Brun._ Oh you are dull, and find not
    The cause of my vexation; Their reconcilement
    Is a mock castle built upon the sand
    By children, which when I am pleas'd to o'rethrow,
    I can with ease spurn down.

    _Lecure._ If so, from whence
    Grows your affliction?

    _Brun._ My grief comes along
    With the new Queen, in whose grace all my power
    Must suffer shipwrack: for me now,
    That hitherto have kept the first, to know
    A second place, or yeeld the least precedence
    To any other ['s] death; To have my sleeps
    Less enquir'd after, or my rising up
    Saluted with less reverence, or my gates
    Empty of suitors, or the Kings great favours
    To pass through any hand but mine, or he
    Himself to be directed by another,
    Would be to me: doe you understand me, yet
    No meanes to prevent this.

    _Prota._ Fame gives her out
    To be a woman of [a] chastity
    Not to be wrought upon; and therefore Madam
    For me, though I have pleas'd you, to attempt her
    Were to no purpose.

    _Brun._ Tush, some other way.

    _Baud._ Faith I know none else, all my bringing up
    Aim'd at no other learning.

    _Lecure._ Give me leave,
    If my art fail me not, I have thought on
    A speeding project.

    _Brun._ What [ist]? but effect it,
    And thou shalt be my _Æsculapius_,
    Thy image shall be set up in pure gold,
    To which I'll fall down and worship it.

    _Lecure._ The Lady is fair.

    _Brun._ Exceeding fair.

    _Lecure._ And young.

    _Brun._ Some fifteen at the most.

    _Lecure._ And loves the King with equall ardor.

    _Brun._ More, she dotes on him.

    _Lecure._ Well then, [what] think you if I make a drink
    Which given unto him on the bridall night
    Shall for five days so rob his faculties,
    Of all ability to pay that duty,
    Which new made wives expect, that she shall swear
    She is not match'd to a man.

    _Prota._ 'Twere rare.

    _Lecure._ And then,
    If she have any part of woman in her,
    She'll or fly out, or at least give occasion
    Of such a breach which nere can be made up,
    Since he that to all else did never fail
    Of as much as could be perform'd by man
    Proves only Ice to her.

    _Brun._ 'Tis excellent.

    _Bawd._ The Physitian
    Helps ever at a dead lift; a fine calling,
    That can both raise, and take down, out upon thee.

    _Brun._ For this one service [I am] ever thine,
    Prepare it; I'll give it him my self, for you _Protaldye_,
    By this kiss, and our promis'd sport at night,
    Doe conjure you to bear up, not minding
    The opposition of _Theodoret_,
    Or any of his followers; What so ere
    You are, yet appear valiant, and make good
    The opinion that is had of you: For my self
    In the new Queens remove, being made secure,
    Fear not, I'll make the future building sure.             [_Exeunt._

                                                          [_Wind horns._

                      _Enter Theodoret, Thierry._

    _Theod._ This Stag stood well, and cunningly.

    _Thierry._ My horse,
    I'm sure, has found it, for her sides are
    Blooded from flank to shoulder, where's the troop?

                            _Enter Martell._

    _Theodoret._ Past homeward, weary and tir'd as we are,
    Now _Martell_, have you remembred what we thought of?

    _Mart._ Yes Sir, I have snigled him, and if there be
    Any desert in his blood, beside the itch,
    Or manly heat, but what decoctions
    Leaches, and callises have cram'd into him,
    Your Lordship shall know perfect.

    _Thier._ What's that, may not I know too?

    _Theod._ Yes Sir,
    To that end we cast the project.

    _Thierry._ What [ist]?

    _Mart._ A desire Sir,
    Upon the gilded flag your Graces favor
    Has stuck up for a Generall, and to inform you,
    For this hour he shall pass the test, what valour,
    Staid judgement, soul, or safe discretion
    Your mothers wandring eyes, and your obedience
    Have flung upon us, to assure your knowledge,
    He can be, dare be, shall be, must be nothing,
    Load him with piles of honors; Set him off
    With all the cunning foyls that may deceive us:
    But a poor, cold, unspirited, unmanner'd,
    Unhonest, unaffected, undone, fool,
    And most unheard of coward, a meer lump
    Made to loade beds withall, and like a night-mare,
    Ride Ladies that forget to say their prayers,
    One that dares only be diseas'd, and in debt,
    Whose body mewes more plaisters every month,
    Than women doe old faces.

    _Thier._ No more, I know him,
    I now repent my error, take your time
    And try him home, ever thus far reserv'd,
    You tie your anger up.

    _Mart._ I lost it else Sir.

    _Thier._ Bring me his sword fair taken without violence,
    For that will best declare him.

    _Theod._ That's the thing.

    _Th[ie]r._ And my best horse is thine.

    _Mart._ Your Graces servant.                                [_Exit._

    _Theod._ [You'le] hunt no more Sir.

    _Thier._ Not to day, the weather
    Is grown too warm, besides the dogs are spent,
    We'll take a cooler morning, let's to horse,
    And hollow in the troop.                      [_Exeunt. Wind horns._

                          _Enter 2 Huntsmen._

    _1._ I marry Twainer,
    This woman gives indeed, these are the Angels
    That are the keepers saints.

    _2._ I like a woman
    That handles the deers dowsets with discretion;
    And payes us by proportion.

    _1._ 'Tis no treason
    To think this good old Lady has a stump yet
    That may require a corrall.

    _2._ And the bells too.

                           _Enter Protaldye._

    Shee has lost a friend of me else, but here's the clark,
    No more for feare o'th' bell ropes.

    _Prota._ How now Keepers,
    Saw you the King?

    _1._ Yes Sir, he's newly mounted,
    And as we take 't ridden home.

    _Pro._ Farew[e]ll then.                             [_Exit Keepers._

                            _Enter Martell._

    My honour'd Lord, Fortune has made me happy
    To meet with such a man of men to side me.

    _Protald._ How Sir? I know ye not
    Nor what your fortune means.

    _Mart._ Few words shall serve, I am betrai'd Sir:
    Innocent and honest; malice and violence,
    Are both against me, basely and foully layd for;
    For my life Sir, danger is now about me,
    Now in my throat Sir.

    _Protald._ Where Sir?

    _Mart._ Nay I fear not,
    And let it now powr down in storms upon me,
    I have met with a noble guard.

    _Prot._ Your meaning Sir,
    For I have present business.

    _Mart._ O my Lord,
    Your honor cannot leave a gentleman
    At least a fair design of this brave nature,
    To which your worth is wedded, your profession
    Hatcht in, and made one peece in such a perill,
    There are but six my Lord.

    _Prot._ What six?

    _Mart._ Six villains sworn, and in pay to kill me.

    _Protaldye._ Six?

    _Mart._ Alas Sir, what can six do, or sixscore, now you are present?
    Your name will blow 'em off: say they have shot too,
    Who dare present a peece? your valour's proof Sir.

    _Prot._ No, I'll assure you Sir, nor my discretion
    Against a multitude; 'Tis true, I dare fight
    Enough, and well enough, and long enough:
    But wisedome Sir, and weight of what is on me,
    In which I am no more mine own, nor yours Sir,
    Nor as I take it any single danger,
    But what concerns my place, tel[l]s me directly,
    Beside my person, my fair reputation,
    If I thrust into crowds, and seek occasions
    Suffers opinion, six? Why _Hercules_
    Avoyded two men, yet not to give example;
    But only for your present dangers sake Sir,
    Were there but four Sir, I car'd not if I kill'd them,
    They will serve to whet my sword.

    _Mart._ There are but four Sir,
    I did mistake them; but four such as _Europe_,
    Excepting your great valour.

    _Prot._ Well consider'd,
    I will not meddle with 'em, four in honor,
    Are equall with fourscore, besides they're people
    Only directed by their fury.

    _Mart._ So much nobler shall be your way of justice.

    _Prot._ That I find not.

    _Mart._ You will not leave me thus?

    _Prot._ I would not leave you, but look you Sir,
    Men of my place and business, must not
    Be question'd thus.

    _Mart._ You cannot pass Sir,
    Now they have seen me with you without danger.
    They are here Sir, within hearing, take but two.

    _Prot._ Let the law take 'em; take a tree Sir
    I'll take my horse, that you may keep with safety,
    If they have brought no hand-saws, within this hour
    I'll send you rescue, and a toyl to take 'em.

    _Mart._ You shall not goe so poorly, stay but one Sir.

    _Prot._ I have been so hamper'd with these rescues,
    So hew'd an[d] tortur'd, that the truth is Sir,
    I have mainly vowd against 'em, yet for your sake,
    If as you say there be but one, I'll stay,
    And see fair play o' both sides.

    _Mart._ There is no
    More Sir, and as I doubt a base one too.

    _Prot._ Fie on him, goe lug him out by th' ears.

    _Mart._ Yes,
    This is he Sir, the basest in the kingdome.

    _Prot._ Do you know me?

    _Mart._ Yes, for a generall fool,
    A knave, a coward, and upstart stallion baw[d],
    Beast, barking puppy, that dares not bite.

    _Prot._ The best man best knows patience.

    _Mart._ Yes,
    This way Sir, now draw your sword, and right you,
    Or render it to me, for one you shall doe.

    _Pro._ If wearing it may do you any honor,
    I shall be glad to grace you, there it is Sir.

    _Mart._ Now get you home, and tell your Lady Mistris,
    Shee has shot up a sweet mushrum; quit your place too,
    And say you are counsel'd well, thou wilt be beaten else
    By thine own lanceprisadoes; when they know thee,
    That tuns of oyl of roses will not cure thee;
    Goe get you to your foyning work at Court,
    And learn to sweat again, and eat dry mutton;
    An armor like a frost will search your bones
    And make you roar you rogue; Not a reply,
    For if you doe, your ears goe off.

    _Prot._ Still patience.                                   [_Exeunt._

                                      [_Loud musick, A Banquet set out._

         _Enter Thierry, Ordella, Brunhalt, Theodoret, Lecure,_
                            _Bawd[b]er, &c._

    _Thier._ It is your place, and though in all things else
    You may and ever shall command me, yet
    In this I'll be obeyed.

    _Ordella._ Sir, the consent,
    That made me yours, shall never teach me to
    Repent I am so; yet be you but pleas'd
    To give me leave to say so much; The honor
    You offer me were better given to her,
    To whom you owe the power of giving.

    _Thier._ Mother,
    You hear this and rejoyce in such a blessing
    That payes to you so large a share of duty,
    But fie no more, for as you hold a place
    Nearer my heart than she, you must sit nearest
    To all those graces, that are in the power
    Of Majesty to bestow.

    _Brun._ Which I'll provide,
    Shall be short liv'd _Lecure_.

    _Lecure._ I have it ready.

    _Brun._ 'Tis well, wait on our cup.

    _Lecure._ You honor me.

    _Thier._ We are dull,
    No object to provoke mirth.

    _Theod. Martell_,
    If you remember Sir, will grace your Feast,
    With some thing that will yield matter of mirth,
    Fit for no common view.

    _Thier._ Touching _Protaldye_.

    _Theod._ You have it.

    _Brun._ What of him? I fear his baseness                   [_aside._
    In spight of all the titles that my favours
    Have cloth'd him, which will make discovery
    Of what is yet conceal'd.

                            _Enter Martell._

    _Theod._ Look Sir, he has it,
    Nay we shall have peace when so great a soldier
    As the renoun'd _P[ro]taldye_, will give up
    His sword rather then use it.

    _Brun._ 'Twas thy plot,
    Which I will turn on thine own head.                       [_aside._

    _Thie._ Pray you speak,
    How won you him to part from't?

    _Mart._ Won him Sir,
    He would have yielded it upon his knees
    Before he would have hazarded the exchange
    Of a phil[l]ip of the forehead: had you will'd me
    I durst have undertook he should have sent you
    His Nose, provided that the loss of it
    Might have sav'd the rest of his face: he is, Sir
    The most unutterable coward that e'er nature
    Blest with hard shoulders, which were only given him,
    To the ruin of bastinados.

    _Thier._ Possible?

    _Theod._ Observe but how she frets.

    _Mart._ Why believe it:
    But that I know the shame of this disgrace,
    Will make the beast to live with such, and never
    Presume to come more among men; I'll hazard
    My life upon it, that a boy of twelve
    Should scourge him hither like a Parish Top,
    And make him dance before you.

    _Brun._ Slave thou liest,
    Thou dar'st as well speak Treason in the hearing
    Of those that have the power to punish it,
    As the least syllable of this before him,
    But 'tis thy hate to me.

    _Martel._ Nay, pray you Madam,
    I have no ears to hear you, though a foot
    To let you understand what he is.

    _Brun._ Villany.

    _Theod._ You are too violent.

                           _Enter_ Protaldye.

    The worst that can come
    Is blanketing; for beating, and such virtues
    I have been long acquainted with.

    _Mart._ Oh strange!

    _Bawdb._ Behold the man you talk of.

    _Brun._ Give me leave,
    Or free thy self, (think in what place you are)
    From the foul imputation that is laid
    Upon thy valour (be bold, I'll protect you)
    Or here I vow (deny it or forswear it)
    These honors which thou wear'st unworthily,
    Which be but impudent enough, and keep them,
    Shall be torn from thee with thy eyes.

    _Prot._ I have it,
    My v[a]lour! is there any here beneath,
    The stile of King, dares question it?

    _Thier._ This is rare.

    _Prot._ Which of [my] actions, which have still been noble,
    Has rend'rd me suspected?

    _Thier._ Nay _Martel[l]_
    You must not fall off.

    _Mart._ Oh Sir, fear it not,
    Doe you know this sword?

    _Prot._ Yes.

    _Mart._ Pray you on what terms
    Did you part with it?

    _Prot._ Part with it say you?

    _Mart._ So.

    _Thier._ Nay, study not an answer, confess freely.

    _Prot._ Oh I remember't now at the Stags [fall],
    As we to day were hunting, a poor fellow,
    And now I view you better, I may say
    Much of your pitch: this silly wretch I spoke of
    With his petition falling at my feet,
    (Which much against my Will he kist,) desir'd
    That as a special means for his preferment
    I would vouchsafe to let him use my sword,
    To cut off the Stags head.

    _Brun._ Will you hear that?

    _Bawdb._ This Lye bears a similitude of Truth.

    _Prot._ I ever courteous, (a great weakness in me)
    Granted his humble suit.

    _Mart._ Oh impudence!

    _Thier._ This change is excellent.

    _Mart._ A word with you,
    Deny it not, I was that man disguis'd,
    You know my temper, and as you respect
    A daily cudgeling for one whole year,
    Without a second pulling by the ears,
    Or tweaks by th' nose, or the most precious balm
    You us'd of patience, patience do you mark me,
    Confess before these Kings with what base fear
    Thou didst deliver it.

    _Prot._ Oh, I sh[all] burst,
    And if I have not instant liberty
    To tear this fellow limb by limb, the wrong
    Will break my heart, although _Herculean_,
    And somewhat bigger; there's my gage, pray you he[re],
    Let me redeem my credit.

    _Thier._ Ha, ha, forbear.

    _Mart._ Pray you let me take it up, and if I do not,
    Against all odds of Armor and of Weapons,
    With this make him confess it on his knees
    Cut off my head.

    _Prot._ No, that's my office.

    _Bawdb._ Fie, you take the Hangmans place.

    _Ordel._ Nay, good my Lord
    Let me attone this difference, do not suffer
    Our bridal night to be the Centaurs Feast.
    [You are] a Knight, and bound by oath to grant
    All just suits unto Ladies; for my sake
    Forget your suppos'd wrong.

    _Prot._ Well let him thank you,
    For your sake he shall live, perhaps a day,
    And may be, on submission longer.

    _Theod._ Nay _Martel[l]_ you must be patient.

    _Mart._ I am yours,
    And this slave shall be once more mine.

    _Thier._ Sit all;
    One health, and so to bed, for I too long
    Deferr my choicest delicates.

    _Brun._ Which if poison
    Have any power, thou shalt like _Tantalus_
    Behold and never taste, be careful.

    _Lecu._ Fear not.

    _Brun._ Though it be rare in our Sex, yet for once
    I will begin a health.

    _Thier._ Let it come freely.

    _Brun. Lecure_, the cup; here to the son we hope
    This night shall be an Embrion.

    _Thier._ You have nam'd
    A blessing that I most desir'd, I pledge you;
    Give me a larger cup, that is too little
    Unto so great a god.

    _Brun._ Nay, then you wrong me,
    Follow as I began.

    _Thier._ Well as you please.

    _Brun._ Is't done?

    _Lecu._ Unto your wish I warrant you,
    For this night I durst trust him with my Mother.

    _Thier._ So 'tis gone round, lights.

    _Brun._ Pray you use my service.

    _Ordel._ 'Tis that which I shall ever owe you, Madam,
    And must have none from you, pray [you] pardon me.

    _Thier._ Good rest to all.

    _Theod._ And to [you] pleasant labour. _Mart[ell]_
    Your company, Madam, good night.

                    [_Exeunt all but_ Brunhalt, Protal, Lecure, Bawdber.

    _Brun._ Nay, you have cause to blush, but I will hide it,
    And what's more, I forgive you; is't not pity
    That thou that art the first to enter combate
    With any Woman, and what is more, o'ercome her,
    In which she is best pleas'd, should be so [fearefull]
    To meet a man.

    _Prot._ Why would you have me lose
    That bloud that is dedicated to your service
    In any other quarrel?

    _Brun._ No, reserve it,
    As I will study to preserve thy credit:
    You sirrah, be't your care to find out one
    That is poor, though valiant, that at any rate
    Will, to redeem my servants reputation,
    Receive a publique baffling.

    _Bawdb._ Would your Highness
    Were pleas'd to inform me better of your purpose.

    _Brun._ Why one, Sir, that would thus be box'd
    Or kick'd, do you apprehend me now?

    _Bawdb._ I feel you Madam,
    The man that shall receive this from my Lord,
    Shall have a thousand crowns.

    _Pro._ He shall.

    _Bawdb._ Besides
    His day of bastinadoing past o'er,
    He shall not lose your grace, nor your good favour?

    _Brun._ That shall make way to it.

    _Bawdb._ It must be a man
    Of credit in the Court, that is to be
    The foil unto your v[a]lour.

    _Prot._ True, it should.

    _Bawdb._ And if he have place there, 'tis not the worse.

    _Brun._ 'Tis much the better.

    _Bawdb._ If he be a Lord,
    'Twill be the greater grace.

    _Brun._ Thou art in the right.

    _Bawdb._ Why then behold that valiant man and Lord,
    That for your sake will take a cudgeling:
    For be assur'd, when it is spread abroad
    That you have dealt with me, they'll give you out
    For one of the Nine Worthies.

    _Brun._ Out you pandar,
    Why, to beat thee is only exercise
    For such as do affect it, lose not time
    In vain replies, but do it: come my solace
    Let us to bed, and our desires once quench'd
    We'll there determine of _Theodorets_ death
    For he's the Engine us'd to ruin us;
    Yet one wor[d] more, _Lecure_, art thou assur'd
    The potion will work?

    _Lecure._ My life upon it.

    _Brun._ Come my _Protaldye_, then glut me with
    Those best delights of man, that are deny'd
    To her that does expect them, being a Bride.




_Actus Tertius. Scæna Prima._


             _Enter_ Thierry, _and_ Ordella, _as from bed_.

    _Thier._ Sure I have drunk the bloud of Elephants:
    The tears of Mandrake, and the Marble dew,
    Mixt in my draught, have quencht my natural heat,
    And left no spark of fire, but in mine eyes,
    With which I may behold my miseries:
    Ye wretched flames which play upon my sight,
    Turn inward, make me all one piece, though earth.
    My tears shall over-whelm you else too.

    _Or._ What moves my Lord to this strange sadness?
    If any late discerned want in me,
    Give cause to your repentance, care and duty
    Shall find a painful way to recompence.

    _Thier._ Are you yet frozen veins, feel you a breath,
    Whose temperate heat would make the North Star reel,
    Her Icy pillars thaw'd, and do you not melt?
    Draw nearer, yet nearer,
    That from thy barren kiss thou maist confess
    I have not heat enough to make a blush.

    _Ordel._ Speak nearer to my understanding, like a Husband.

    _Thier._ How should he speak the language of a Husband,
    Who wants the tongue and organs of his voice?

    _Ordel._ It is a phrase will part with the same ease
    From you, with that you now deliver.

    _Thier._ Bind not his ears up with so dull a charm
    Who hath no other sense left open, why should thy words
    Find more restraint than thy free speaking actions,
    Thy close embraces, and thy midnight sighs
    The silent Orators to slow desire?

    _Ordel._ Strive not to win content from ignorance
    Which must be lost in knowledge: heaven can witness
    My farthest hope of good, reacht at your pleasure,
    Which seeing alone, may in your look be read:
    Add not a doubtful comment to a text
    That in it self is direct and easie.

    _Thier._ Oh thou hast drunk the juyce of hemlock too,
    Or did upbraided nature make this pair
    To shew she had not quite forgot her first
    Justly prais'd Workmanship, the first chast couple
    Before the want of joy, taught guilty sight
    A way through shame and sorrow to delight:
    Say, may we mix, as in their innocence
    When Turtles kist, to confirm happiness,
    Not to beget it.

    _Ordel._ I know no bar.

    _Thier._ Should I believe thee, yet thy pulse beats, woman,
    And says the name of Wife did promise thee
    The blest reward of duty to thy mother,
    Who gave so often witness of her joy,
    When she did boast thy likeness to her Husband.

    _Ordel._ 'Tis true, that to bring forth a second to your self,
    Was only worthy of my Virgin loss;
    And should I prize you less, unpattern'd Sir?
    Then being exemplify'd, is't not more honor
    To be possessor of unequall'd virtue,
    Than what is paralell'd? give me belief,
    The name of mother knows no way of good,
    More than the end in me: who weds for Lust
    Is oft a widow: when I married you,
    I lost the name of Maid to gain a Title
    Above the wish of change, which that part can
    Only maintain, is still the same in man,
    His virtue and his calm society,
    Which no gray hairs can threaten to dissolve
    Nor wrinkles bury.

    _Thier._ Confine thy self to silence, lest thou take
    That part of reason from me, is only left
    To give perswasion to me, I'm a man:
    Or say thou hast never seen the Rivers haste
    With gladsome speed, to meet th' amorous sea.

    _Ordel._ We are but to praise the coolness of their streams.

    _Thier._ Nor view'd the Kids, taught by their lustful [s]ires,
    Pursue each other through the wanton lawns,
    And lik'd the sport.

    _Ordel._ As it made way unto their envied rest
    With weary knots, binding their harmless eyes.

    _Thier._ Nor do you know the reason why the Dove,
    One of the pair, your hands wont hourly feed,
    So often clipt and kist her happy mate.

    _Ordel._ Unless it were to welcome his wish'd sight,
    Whose absence only gave her mourning voice.

    _Thier._ And you could, Dove-like to a single object,
    Bind your loose spirits to one, nay, such a one
    Whom only eyes and ears must flatter good,
    Your surer sence made useless, my self, nay
    As in my all of good, already known.

    _Ordel._ Let proof plead for me; let me be mew'd up
    Where never eye may reach me, but your own;
    And when I shall repent, but in my looks, if sigh.

    _Thier._ Or shed a tear that's warm.

    _Ordel._ But in your sadness.

    _Thier._ Or when you hear the birds call for their mates,
    Ask if it be _St. Valentine_, their coupling day.

    _Ordel._ If any thing may make a thought suspected
    Of knowing any happiness but you,
    Divorce me, by the Title of Most Falshood.

    _Thier._ Oh, who would know a wife, that might have such a friend?
    Posterity henceforth, lose the name of blessing
    And leave the earth inhabited to people heaven.

            _Enter_ Theodoret, Brunhalt, Martel, Protaldye.

    _Mart._ All happiness to _Thierry_ and _Ordella_.

    _Thier._ 'Tis a desire but borrowed from me, my happiness
    Shall be the period of all good mens wishes,
    Which friends, nay dying Fathers shall bequeath,
    And in my one give all: is there a duty
    Belongs to any power of mine, or love
    To any virtue I have right to? here, place it here,
    _Ordella's_ name shall only bear command,
    Rule, Title, Sovereignty.

    _Brun._ What passion sways my Son?

    _Thier._ Oh Mother, she has doubled every good
    The travel of your bloud made possible
    To my glad being.

    _Prot._ He should have done
    Little to her, he is so light hearted.

    _Thier._ Brother, friends, if honor unto shame
    If wealth to want inlarge the present sense,
    My joyes are unbounded, instead of question
    Let it be envy, not bring a present
    To the high offering of our mirth, Banquets, and Masques;
    Keep waking our delights, mocking nights malice,
    Whose dark brow would fright pleasure from us,
    Our Court be but one st[a]ge of Revels, and each [e]ye
    The Scene where our content moves.

    _Theod._ There shall want
    Nothing to express our shares in your delight, Sir.

    _Mart._ Till now I ne'er repented the estate
    Of Widower.

    _Thier._ Musick, why art thou so slow voic'd? it staies thy presence
    My _Ordella_, this chamber is a sphere
    Too narrow for thy all-moving virtue.
    Make way, free way I say;
    Who must alone, her Sexes want supply,
    Had need to have a room both large and high.

    _Mart._ This passion's above utterance.

    _Theod._ Nay, credulity.          [_Exit all but_ Thierry, Brunhalt.

    _Brun._ Why Son what mean you, are you a man?

    _Thier._ No Mother I am no man, were I a man,
    How could I be thus happy?

    _Brun._ How can a wife be author of this joy then?

    _Thier._ That being no man, I am married to no woman;
    The best of men in full ability,
    Can only hope to satisfie a wife,
    And for that hope ridiculous, I in my want
    And such defective poverty, that to her bed
    From my first Cradle brought no strength but thought,
    Have met a temperance beyond hers that rockt me,
    Necessity being her bar; where this
    Is so much sensless of my depriv'd fire;
    She knows it not a loss by her desire.

    _Brun._ It is beyond my admiration.

    _Thier._ Beyond your sexes faith,
    The unripe Virgins of our age, to hear't
    Will dream themselves to women, and convert
    Th' example to a miracle.

    _Brun._ Alas, 'tis your defect moves my amazement,
    But what [i]ll can be separate from ambition?
    Cruel _Theodoret_.

    _Thier._ What, of my brother?

    _Brun._ That to his name your barrenness adds rule;
    Who loving the effect, would not be strange
    In favouring the cause; look on the profit,
    And gain will quickly point the mischief out.

    _Thier._ The name of Father, to what I possess
    Is shame and care.

    _Brun._ Were we begot to single happiness
    I grant you; but from such a wife, such virtue
    To get an heir, what hermet would not find
    Deserving argument to break his vow
    Even in his age of chastity?

    _Thier._ You teach a deaf man language.

    _Brun._ The cause found out, the malady may cease,
    Have you heard of one _Forts_?

    _Thier._ A learned Astronomer, great Magician,
    Who lives hard by retir'd.

    _Brun._ Repair to him, with the just hour and place
    Of your nativity; fools are amaz'd at fate,
    Griefs but conceal'd are never desperate.

    _Thier._ You have timely waken'd me, nor shall I sleep
    Without the satisfaction of his Art.                [_Exit_ Thierry.

                            _Enter_ Lecure.

    _Brun._ Wisdom prepares you to't, _Lecure_, met happily.

    _Lecure._ The ground answers your purpose, the conve[iance]
    Being secure and easie, falling just
    Behind the state set for _Theodoret_.

    _Brun._ 'Tis well, your trust invites you to a second charge,
    You know _Leforte's_ Cell.

    _Lecure._ Who constellated your fair birth.

    _Brun._ Enough, I see thou know'st him, where's _Bawdber_?

    _Lec._ I left him careful of the project cast,
    To raise _Protaldie's_ credit.

    _Brun._ A sore that must be plaister'd, in whose wound
    Others shall find their graves, think themselves sound,
    Your ear, and quickest apprehension.                      [_Exeunt._

                    _Enter_ Bawdber _and a servant_.

    _Bawdb._ This man of war will advance.

    _Lecu._ His hour's upon the stroke.

    _Bawdb._ Wind him back, as you favour my ears,
    I [lo]ve no noise in my head, my brains have hitherto
    Been imploy'd in silent businesses.

                            _Enter_ Devitry.

    _Lecu._ The Gentleman is within your reach Sir.             [_Exit._

    _Bawdb._ Give ground, whilst I drill my wits to the encounter,
    _Devitry_, I take it.

    _Devi._ All's that left of him.

    _Bawdb._ Is there another parcel of you, if it be at pawn
    I will gladly redeem it, to make you wholly mine.

    _Vitry._ You seek too hard a pennyworth.

    _Bawdb._ You too ill to keep such distance; your parts have been
             long known
    To me, howsoever you please to forget acquaintance.

    _Vit._ I must confess I have been subject to lewd company.

    _Bawdb._ Thanks for your good remembrance,
    You have been a soldier _Devitry_ and born[e] Arms.

    _Vit._ A couple of unprofitable ones, that have only serv'd
    to get me a stomach to my dinner.

    _Bawdb._ Much good may it do you, Sir.

    _Vitry._ You sh[ould] have heard me say I had din'd first, I
    have built on an unwholsome ground, rais'd up a house, before
    I knew a Tenant, matcht to meet weariness, sought to find
    want and hunger.

    _Bawdb._ It is time you put up your sword, and run away
    for meat, Sir, nay, if I had not withdrawn e'r now, I might
    have kept thee; fast with you: but since the way to thrive
    is never late, what is the nearest course to profit think you?

    _Vitry._ It may be your worship will say bawdry.

    _Bawdb._ True sense, bawdry.

    _Vitry._ Why, is the[re] five kinds of them, I never knew
    but one.

    _Bawdb._ I'll shew you a new way of prostitution, fall back,
    further yet, further, there is fifty crowns, do but as much
    to _Protaldye_ the Queens favorite, they are doubled.

    _Vitry._ But thus much.

    _Bawdb._ Give him but an affront as he comes to the presence,
    and in his drawing make way, like a true bawd to his
    valour, the s[um]'s thy own; if you take a scratch in the arm
    or so, every drop of bloud weighs down a ducket.

    _Vitry._ After that rate, I and my friends would begger the
    kingdom. Sir, you have made me blush to see my want,
    whose cure is such a cheap and easie purchase, this is Male-bawdry
    belike.

               _Enter_ Protaldy, _a Lady, and Revellers_.

    _Bawdb._ See, you shall not be long earning your wages, your work's
    before your eyes.

    _Vitry._ Leave it to my handling, I'll fall upon't instantly.

    _Bawdb._ What opinion will the managing of this affair

    Bring to my wisdom? my invention tickles
    With apprehension on't:

    _Pro._ These are the joyes of marriage, Lady,
    Whose sights are able to dissolve Virginity.
    Speak freely, do you not envy the Brides felicity?

    _Lady._ How should I, being partner of't?

    _Pro._ What you enjoy is but the Banquets view,
    The taste stands from your pallat; if he impart
    By day so much of his content, think what night gave?

    _Vitry._ Will you have a relish of wit, Lady?

    _Bawdb._ This is the man.

    _Lady._ If it be not dear, Sir.

    _Vitry._ If you affect cheapness, how can you prize this sullied
    ware so much? mine is fresh, my own, not retail'd.

    _Pro._ You are saucy, sirrah.

    _Vitry._ The fitter to be in the dish with such dry Stock-fish as
    you are, how, strike?

    _Bawdb._ Remember the condition as you look for payment.

    _Vitry._ That box was left out of the bargain.

    _Pro._ Help, help, help.

    _Bawdb._ Plague of the Scriveners running hand,
    What a blow is this to my reputation!

             _Enter_ Thierry, Theodoret, Brunhalt, Ordella,
                           Memberge, Martell.

    _Thier._ What villain dares this outrage?

    _Devitry._ Hear me, Sir, this creature hir'd me with fifty crowns
    in hand, to let _Protaldye_ have the better of me at single Rapier
    on a made quarrel; he mistaking the weapon, laies me over the chops
    with his club fist, for which I was bold to teach him the Art of
    memory.

    _Omnes._ Ha, ha, ha, ha.

    _Theo._ Your General, Mother, will display himself.
    'Spight of our Peace I see.

    _Thier._ Forbear these civil jars, fie _Protaldy_,
    So open in your projects, avoid our presence, sirrah.

    _Devi._ Willingly; if you have any more wages to earn,
    You see I can take pains.

    _Theo._ There's somewhat for thy labour,
    More than was promis'd, ha, ha, ha.

    _Bawdb._ Where could I wish my self now? in the _Isle of Dogs_.
    So I might scape scratching, for I see by her Cats eyes
    I shall be claw'd fearfully.

    _Thier._ We'll hear no more on't,                    [_Soft Musick._
    Musick drown all sadness;
    Command the Revellers in, at what a rate I do purchase
    My Mothers absence, to give my spleen full liberty.

    _Brun._ Speak not a thoughts delay, it names thy ruin.

    _Pro._ I had thought my life had born[e] more value with you.

    _Brun._ Thy loss carries mine with't, let that secure thee.
    The vault is ready, and the door conveys to't
    Falls just behind his chair, the blow once given,
    Thou art unseen.

    _Pro._ I cannot feel more than I fear, I'm sure.       [_Withdraws._

    _Brun._ Be gone, and let them laugh their own destruction.

    _Thier._ You will add unto her rage.

    _Theod._ 'Foot, I shall burst, unless I vent my self, ha, ha, ha.

    _Brun._ Me Sir, you never could
    Have found a time to invite more willingness
    In my dispose to pleasure.

    _Memb._ Would you would please to make some other choise.

    _Revel._ 'Tis a disgrace would dwell upon me, Lady,
    Should you refuse.

    _Memb._ Your reason conquers; my Grandmothers looks
    Have turn'd all air to earth in me, they sit
    Upon my heart like night-charms, black and heavy.

                                                          [_They Dance._

    _Thier._ You are too much libertine.

    _Theod._ The fortune of the fool perswades my laughter
    More than his cowardize; was ever Rat
    Ta'en by the tail thus? ha, ha, ha.

    _Thier._ Forbear I say.

    _Prot._ No eye looks this way, I will wink and strike,
    Lest I betray my self.          [_Behind the State stabs_ Theodoret.

    _Theo._ Ha, did you not see one near me?

    _Thier._ How near you, why do you look so pale, brother?
    Treason, treason.

    _Memb._ Oh my presage! Father.

    _Ordella._ Brother.

    _Mart._ Prince, Noble Prince.

    _Thier._ Make the gates sure, search into every angle
    And corner of the Court, oh my shame! Mother,
    Your Son is slain, _Theodoret_, noble _Theodoret_,
    Here in my arms, too weak a Sanctuary
    'Gainst treachery and murder, say, is the Traitor taken?

    _1 Guard._ No man hath past the chamber on my life Sir.

    _Thier._ Set present fire unto the place, that all unseen
    May perish in this mischief, who moves slow to't,
    Shall add unto the flame.

    _Brun._ What mean you? give me your private hearing.

    _Thier._ Perswasion is a partner in the crime,
    I will renounce my claim unto a mother,
    If you make offer on't.

    _Brun._ E'er a Torch can take flame, I will produce
    The author of the fact.

    _Thier._ Withdraw but for your Lights.

    _Memb._ Oh my too true suspition.

                                              [_Exeunt_ Martel, Memberg.

    _Thier._ Speak, where's the Engine to this horrid act?

    _Brun._ Here you do behold her; upon whom make good
    Your causeless rage; the deed was done by my incitement,
    Not yet repented.

    _Thier._ Wh[i]ther did nature start, when you conceiv'd?
    A birth so unlike woman? say, what part
    Did not consent to make a son of him,
    Reserv'd it self within you to his ruine.

    _Brun._ Ha, ha, a son of mine! doe not dissever
    Thy fathers dust, shaking his quiet urn,
    To which [thy] breath would send so foul an issue.
    My Son, thy Brother?

    _Thier._ Was not _Theodoret_ my brother, or is thy tongue
    Confederate with thy heart, to speak and do
    Only things monstrous?

    _Brun._ Hear me and thou shalt make thine own belief,
    Thy, still with sorrow mention'd, father liv'd
    Three careful years, in hope of wished heirs,
    When I conceiv'd, being from his jealous fear
    Injoyn'd to quiet home, one fatal day:
    Transported with my pleasure to the chase,
    I forc'd command, and in pursuit of game
    Fell from my horse, lost both my child and hopes.
    Despair which only in his love saw life
    Worthy of being, from a Gard'ners Arms
    Snatcht this unlucky brat, and call'd it mine,
    When the next year repaid my loss with thee:
    But in thy wrongs preserv'd my misery,
    Which that I might diminish, though not end,
    My sighs, and wet eies from thy Fathers Will,
    Bequeath this largest part of his Dominions
    Of _France_ unto thee, and only left
    _Austracia_ unto that changling, whose life affords
    Too much of ill 'gainst me to prove my words,
    And call him stranger.

    _Thier._ Come, doe not weep, I must, nay do believe you.
    And in my fathers satisfaction count it
    Merit, not wrong, or loss:

    _Brun._ You doe but flatter, there's anger yet flames
    In your eyes.

    _Thier._ See, I will quench it, and confess that you
    Have suffer'd double travel for me.

    _Brun._ You will not fire the house then?

    _Thier._ Rather reward the author who gave cause
    Of knowing such a secret, my oath and duty
    Shall be assurance on't.

    _Brun. Protaldye_, rise good faithful servant, heaven knows
    How hardly he was drawn to this attempt.

                           _Enter_ Protaldye.

    _Thier. Protaldye?_ he had a Gard'ners fa[t]e I'll swear:
    [F]ell by thy hand, Sir, we doe owe unto you for this service.

    _Brun._ Why lookest thou so dejected?

                            _Enter_ Martel.

    _Prot._ I want a little shift, Lady, nothing else.

    _Mart._ The fires are ready, please it your grace withdraw,
    Whilst we perform your pleasure.

    _Thier._ Reserve them for the body; since he had the fate
    To live and die a Prince, he shall not lose
    The Title in his Funeral.                                   [_Exit._

    _Mart._ His fate to live a Prince,
    Thou old impiety, made up by lust and mischief,
    Take up the body.                  [_Exeunt with the body of_ Theod.

                    _Enter_ Lecure _and a Servant_.

    _Lecu._ Dost think _Leforte's_ sure enough?

    _Serv._ As bonds can make him, I have turn'd his eyes to the East;
    and left him gaping after the Morning star, his head is a meer
    Astrolobe, his eyes stand for the Poles, the gag in his mouth
    being the Coachman, his five teeth have the nearest resemblance to
    _Charles Wain._

    _Lecure._ Thou hast cast a figure which shall raise thee, direct my
    hair a little: and in my likeness to him, read a fortune suiting
    thy largest hopes.

    _Ser._ You are so far 'bove likeness, you are the same,
    If you love mirth, perswade him from himself.
    'Tis but an Astronomer out of the way,
    And lying, will bear the better place for't.

    _Lecure._ I have profitabler use in hand, haste to the Queen
    And tell her how you left me chang'd.               [_Exit Servant._
    Who would not serve this virtuous active Queen?
    She that loves mischief 'bove the man that does it,
    And him above her pleasure, yet knows no heaven else.

                            _Enter_ Thierry.

    _Thier._ How well this loan[es] suits the Art I seek,
    Discovering secret, and succeeding Fate,
    Knowledge that puts all lower happiness on,
    With a remiss and careless hand,
    Fair peace unto your meditations, father.

    _Lecure._ The same to you, you bring, Sir.

    _Thier._ Drawn by your much fam'd skill, I come to know
    Whether the man who owes [t]his character,
    Shall e'er have issue.

    _Lecure._ A resolution falling with most ease,
    Of any doubt you could have nam'd, he is a Prince
    Whose fortune you enquire.

    _Thie._ He is nobly born.

    _Lecure._ He had a Dukedom lately fall'n unto him,
    By one, call'd Brother, who has left a Daughter.

    _Thier._ The question is, of Heirs, not Lands.

    _Lecure._ Heirs, yes, he shall have Heirs.

    _Thier._ Begotten of his body, why look'st thou pale?
    Thou canst not suffer in his want.

    _Lecure._ Nor thou, I neither can nor will
    Give farther knowledge to thee.

    _Thier._ Thou must, I am the man my self,
    Thy Sovereign, who must owe unto thy wisdom
    In the concealing of my barren shame.

    _Lecure._ Your Grace doth wrong your Stars; if this be yours,
    You may have children.

    _Thier._ Speak it again.

    _Lecure._ You may have fruitful issue.

    _Thier._ By whom? when? how?

    _Lecure._ It was the fatal means first struck my bloud
    With the cold hand of wonder, when I read it
    Printed upon your birth.

    _Thier._ Can there be any way unsmooth, has end
    So fair and good?

    _Lecure._ We that behold the sad aspects of Heaven,
    Leading sence blinded, men feel grief enough
    To know, though not to speak their miseries.

    _Thier._ Sorrow must lose a name, where mine finds life;
    If not in thee, at least ease pain with speed,
    Which must know no cure else.

    _Lecure._ Then thus,
    The first of Females which your eye shall meet
    Before the Sun next rise, coming from out
    The Temple of _Diana_ being slain, you live
    Father of many sons.

    _Thier._ Call'st thou this sadness, can I beget a Son?
    Deserving less than to give recompence
    Unto so poor a loss? what e'er thou art,
    Rest peaceable blest creature, born to be
    Mother of Princes, whose grave shall be more fruitful
    Than others marriage beds: methinks his Art
    Should give her form and happy figure to me,
    I long to see my happiness, he is gone,
    As I remember, he nam'd my brothers Daughter,
    Were it my Mother, 'twere a gainful death
    Could give _Ordella_'s virtue living breath.              [_Exeunt._




_Actus Quartus. Scæna Prima._


                     _Enter_ Thierry _and_ Martel.

    _Mart._ Your Grace is early stirring.

    _Thier._ How can he sleep,
    Whose happiness is laid up in an hour
    He knows comes stealing towar[d] him, Oh _Martel_!
    Is't possible the longing Bride, whose wishes
    Out-runs her fears, can on that day she is married
    Consume in slumbers, or his Arms rust in ease,
    That hears the charge, and sees the honor'd purchase
    Ready to [gild] his valour? Mine is more
    A power above these passions; this day _France_,
    _France_ that in want of issue withers with us;
    And like an aged River, runs his head
    Into forgotten ways, again I ransome,
    And his fair course turn right: this day _Thierry_,
    The Son of _France_, whose manly powers like prisoners
    Have been tied up, and fetter'd, by one death
    Give life to thousand ages; this day beauty
    The envy of the world, Pleasure the glory,
    Content above the world, desire beyond it
    Are made mine own, and useful.

    _Mart._ Happy Woman
    That dies to do these things.

    _Thier._ But ten times happier
    That lives to do the greater; oh _Martel_,
    The gods have heard me now, and those that scorn'd me,
    Mothers of many children, and blest fathers
    That see their issues like the Stars un-number'd,
    Their comfort more than them, shall in my praises
    Now teach their Infants songs; and tell their ages
    From such a Son of mine, or such a Queen,
    That chaste _Ordella_ brings me blessed marriage
    The chain that links two Holy Loves together
    And in the marriage, more than blest _Ordella_,
    That comes so near the Sacrament it self,
    The Priests doubt whether purer.

    _Mart._ Sir, y'are lost.

    _Thier._ I prethee let me be so.

    _Mart._ The day wears,
    And those that have been offering early prayers,
    Are now retiring homeward.

    _Thier._ Stand and mark then.

    _Mart._ Is it the first must suffer.

    _Thier._ The first Woman.

    _Mart._ What hand shall do it, Sir?

    _Thier._ This hand _Martell_,
    For who less dare presume to give the gods
    An incense of this offering?

    _Mart._ Would I were she,
    For such a way to die, and such a blessing
    Can never crown my parting.

                     _Enter two men passing over._

    _Thier._ What are those?

    _Mart._ Men, men, Sir, men.

    _Thier._ The plagues of men light on 'em,
    They cross my hopes like Hares, who's that?

                           _Enter a Priest._

    _Mart._ A Priest, Sir.

    _Thier._ Would he were gelt.

    _Mart._ May not these rascals serve, Sir,
    Well hang'd and quarter'd?

    _Thier._ No.

    _Mart._ Here comes a woman.

                       _Enter_ Ordella _veil'd_.

    _Thier._ Stand and behold her then.

    _Mart._ I think a fair one.

    _Thier._ Move not whilst I prepare her: may her peace
    Like his whose innocence the gods are pleas'd with,
    And offering at their Altars, gives his soul
    Far purer than those fires; pull heaven upon her,
    You holy powers, no humane spot dwell in her,
    No love of any thing, but you and goodness,
    Tie her to earth, fear be a stranger to her,
    And all weak blouds affections, but thy hope
    Let her bequeath to Women: hear me heaven,
    Give her a spirit masculine, and noble,
    Fit for your selves to ask, and me to offer.
    Oh let her meet my blow, doat on her death;
    And as a wanton Vine bows to the pruner,
    That by his cutting off, more may increase,
    So let her fall to raise me fruit; hail woman.
    The happiest, and the best (if the dull Will
    Do not abuse thy fortune) _France_ e'er found yet.

    _Ordel._ Sh' is more than dull, Sir, less, and worse than Woman,
    That may inherit such an infinite
    As you propound, a greatness so near goodness;
    And brings a Will to rob her.

    _Thier._ Tell me this then,
    Was there e'er woman yet, or may be found,
    That for fair Fame, unspotted memory,
    For virtues sake, and only for it self sake
    Has, or dare make a story?

    _Ordel._ Many dead Sir,
    Living I thin[ke] as many.

    _Thier._ Say, the kingdom
    May from a womans Will receive a blessing,
    The King and kingdom, not a private safety.
    A general blessing, Lady.

    _Ordel._ A general curse
    Light on her heart, denies it.

    _Thier._ Full of honor;
    And such examples as the former ages
    Were but dim shadows of, and empty figures.

    _Ordel._ You strangely stir me, Sir, and were my weakness
    In any other flesh but modest womans,
    You should not ask more questions, may I do it?

    _Thier._ You may, and which is more, you must.

    _Ordel._ I joy in't,
    Above a moderate gladness, Sir, you promise
    It shall be honest.

    _Thier._ As ever time discover'd.

    _Ordel._ Let it be what it may then, what it dare,
    I have a mind will hazard it.

    _Thier._ But hark ye,
    What may that woman merit, makes this blessing!

    _Ordel._ Only her duty, Sir.

    _Thier._ 'Tis terrible.

    _Ordel._ 'Tis so much the more noble.

    _Thier._ 'Tis full of fearful shadows.

    _Ordel._ So is sleep, Sir.
    Or any thing that's meerly ours, and mortal,
    We were begotten gods else; but those fears
    Feeling but once the fires of nobler thoughts,
    Flie, like the shapes of clouds we form, to nothing.

    _Thier._ Suppose it death.

    _Ordel._ I do.

    _Thier._ And endless parting
    With all we can call ours, with all our sweetness,
    With youth, strength, pleasure, people, time, nay reason:
    For in the silent grave, no conversation,
    No joyful tread of friends, no voice of Lovers,
    No careful Fathers counsel, nothing's h[e]ard,
    Nor nothing is, but all oblivion,
    Dust and an endless darkness, and dare you woman
    Desire this place?

    _Ord[e]l._ 'Tis of all sleeps the sweetest,
    Children begin it to us, strong men seek it,
    And Kings from heighth of all their painted glories
    Fall like spent exhalations, to this centre:
    And those are fools that fear it, or imagine
    A few unhandsome pleasures, or lifes profits
    Can recompence this place; and mad that staies it,
    Till age blow out their lights, or rotten humors,
    Bring them dispers'd to th' earth.

    _Thier._ Then you can suffer?

    _Ordel._ As willingly as say it.

    _Thier. Martell_, a wonder,
    Here's a woman that dares die, yet tell me,
    Are you a Wife?

    _Ordel._ I am Sir.

    _Thier._ And have children?
    She sighs and weeps.

    _Ordel._ Oh none Sir.

    _Thier._ Dare you venture
    For a poor barren praise you ne'er shall hear,
    To part with these sweet hopes?

    _Ordel._ With all but Heaven,
    And yet die full of children; he that reads me
    When I am ashes, is my Son in wishes,
    And those chaste dames that keep my memory,
    Singing my yearly requiems, are my Daughters.

    _Thier._ Then there is nothing wanting but my knowledg[e].
    And what I must doe, Lady?

    _Ordel._ You are the King, Sir,
    And what you do I'll suffer, and that blessing
    That you desire, the gods showr on the Kingdom.

    _Thier._ Thus much before I strike then, for I must kill you,
    The gods have will'd it so, they're made the blessing
    Must make _France_ young again, and me a man,
    Keep up your strength still nobly.

    _Ordel._ Fear me not.

    _Thier._ And meet death like a measure.

    _Ordel._ I am stedfast.

    _Thier._ Thou shalt be sainted woman, and thy Tomb
    Cut out in Chrystal, pure and good as thou art;
    And on it shall be graven every age,
    Succeeding Peers of _France_ that rise by thy fall,
    Tell thou liest there like old and fruitful nature.
    Darest thou behold thy happiness?

    _Ordel._ I dare Sir.

    _Thier._ Ha?      [_Pul[l]s off her veil, lets fall his sword._

    _Mar._ Oh Sir, you must not doe it.

    _Thier._ No, I dare not.
    There is an Angel keeps that Paradice,
    A fiery Angel friend; oh virtue, virtue,
    Ever and endless virtue.

    _Ordel._ Strike, Sir, strike;
    And if in my poor death fair _France_ may merit,
    Give me a thousand blows, be killing me
    A thousand days.

    _Thier._ First let the earth be barren,
    And man no more remembred, rise _Ordella_,
    The nearest to thy maker, and the purest
    That ever dull flesh shewed us,--oh my heart-strings.       [_Exit._

    _Mart._ I see you full of wonder, therefore noblest,
    And truest amongst Women, I will tell you
    The end of this strange accident.

    _Ordel._ Amazement
    Has so much wove upon my heart, that truly
    I feel my self unfit to hear, oh Sir,
    My Lord has slighted me.

    _Mart._ Oh no sweet Lady.

    _Ordel._ Robb'd me of such a glory by his pity,
    And most unprovident respect.

    _Mart._ Dear Lady,
    It was not meant to you.

    _Ordel._ Else where the day is,
    And hours distinguish time, time runs to ages,
    And ages end the world, I had been spoken.

    [_Mart._] I'll tell you what it was, if but your patience
    Will give me hearing.

    _Ordel._ If I have transgrest,
    Forgive me, Sir.

    _Mart._ Your noble Lord was counsel'd,
    Grieving the barrenness between you both,
    And all the Kingdom with him, to seek out
    A man that knew the secrets of the gods,
    He went, found such [a] one, and had this answer,
    That if he wou'd have issue, on this morning,
    For this hour was prefixt him, he should kill
    The first he met, being Female, from the Temple;
    And then he should have children, the mistake
    Is now too perfect, Lady.

    _Ordel._ Still 'tis I, Sir,
    For may this work be done by common women?
    Durst any but my self that knew the blessing,
    And felt the benefit, assume this [dying]
    In any other, 't'ad been lost, and nothing,
    A curse and not a blessing; I was figur'd;
    And shall a little fondness barr my purchase?

    _Mart._ Where should he then seek children?

    _Ordel._ Where they are
    In wombs ordain'd for issues, in those beauties
    That bless a marriage-bed, and makes it proceed
    With kisses that conceive, and fruitful pleasures;
    Mine like a grave, buries those loyal hopes,
    And to a grave it covets.

    _Mart._ You are too good,
    Too excellent, too honest; rob not us
    And those that shall hereafter seek example,
    Of such inestimable worthies in woman.
    Your Lord of such obedience, all of honor
    In coveting a cruelty is not yours,
    A Will short of your Wisdom; make not error
    A Tomb-stone of your virtues, whose fair life
    Deserves a constellation: your Lord dare not;
    He cannot, ought not, must not run this hazard,
    He makes a separation, nature shakes at,
    The gods deny, and everlasting justice
    Shrinks back, and sheaths her sword at.

    _Ordel._ All's but talk, Sir,
    I find to what I am reserv'd, and needful,
    And though my Lord's compassion makes me poor,
    And leaves me in my best use, yet a strength
    Above mine own, or his dull fondness finds me;
    The gods have given it to me.                      [_Draws a knife._

    _Mart._ Self-destruction!
    Now all good Angels bless thee, oh sweet Lady,
    You are abus'd, this is a way to shame you,
    And with you all that knows you, all that loves you,
    To ruin all you build, would you be famous?
    Is that your end?

    _Ordel._ I would be what I should be.

    _Mart._ Live and confirm the gods then, live and be loaden
    With more than Olive[s]bear, or fruitful Autumn;
    This way you kill your merit, kill your cause,
    And him you would raise life to, where, or how
    Got you these bloudy thoughts? what Devil durst
    Look on that Angel face, and tempt? doe you know
    What is't to die thus, how you strike the Stars,
    And all good things above, do you feel
    What follows a self-bloud, whether you venture,
    And to what punishment? excellent Lady,
    Be not thus cozen'd, do not fool your self,
    The Priest was never his own sacrifice,
    But he that thought his hell here.

    _Ordel._ I am counsell'd.

    _Mart._ And I am glad on't, lie, I know you dare not.

    _Ordel._ I never have done yet.

    _Mart._ Pray take my comfort,
    Was this a soul to lose? two more such women
    Would save their sex; see, she repents and prayes,
    Oh hear her, hear her, if there be a faith
    Able to reach your mercies, she hath sent it.

    _Ordel._ Now good _Martel_ confirm me.

    _Mart._ I will Lady,
    And every hour advise you, for I doubt
    Whether this plot be heavens, or hells; your mother
    And I will find it, if it be in mankind
    To search the center of it: in the mean time
    I'll give you out for dead, and by your self,
    And shew the instrument, so shall I find
    A joy that will betray her.

    _Ordel._ Do what's fittest;
    And I will follow you.

    _Mart._ Then ever live
    Both able to engross all love, and give.                  [_Exeunt._

                      _Enter_ Brunhalt, Protaldye.

    _Brun._ I'm in labour
    To be deliver'd of that burthenous project
    I have so long gone with; ha, here's the Midwife,
    Or life, or death.

                            _Enter_ Lecure.

    _Lecu._ If in the supposition
    Of her death in whose life you die, you ask me,
    I think you are safe.

    _Brun._ Is she dead?

    _Lecu._ I have us'd
    All means to make her so, I saw him waiting
    At the Temple door, and us'd such Art within,
    That only she of all her Sex was first
    Giv'n up unto his fury.

    _Brun._ Which if love
    Or fear made him forbear to execute
    The vengeance he determin'd, his fond pity
    Shall draw it on himself, for were there left
    Not any man but he, to serve my pleasures,
    Or from me to receive commands, which are
    The joyes for which I love life, he should be
    Remov'd, and I alone left to be Queen
    O'er any part of goodness that's left in me.

    _Lecu._ If you are so resolv'd, I have provided
    A means to s[h]ip him hence: look upon this,
    But touch it sparingly, for this once us'd,
    Say but to dry a tear, will keep the eye-lid
    From closing, until death perform that office.

    _Brun._ Give't me, I may have use [of 't], and on you
    I'll make the first experiment: if one sigh
    Or heavy look beget the least suspition,
    Childish compassion can thaw the Ice
    Of your so long congeal'd and flinty hardness.
    Slight, go on constant, or I shall.

    _Prot._ Best Lady,
    We have no faculties which are not yours.

    _Lecu._ Nor will be any thing without you.

    _B[r]un._ Be so, and we will stand or fall together, for
    Since we have gone so far, that death must stay
    The journey, which we wish should never end;
    And innocent, or guilty, we must die,
    When we do so, let's know the reason why.

                    _Enter_ Thierry _and_ Courtiers.

    _Lecu._ The King.

    _Thier._ We'll be alone.

    _Prot._ I would I had
    A Convoy too, to bring me safe off.
    For rage although it be allai'd with sorrow,
    Appears so dreadful in him, that I shake
    To look upon't.

    _Brun._ Coward I will meet it,
    And know from whence 't has birth: Son, kingly _Thierry_.

    _Thier._ Is cheating grown so common among men?
    And thrives so well here, that the gods endeavour
    To practise it above?

    _Brun._ Your Mother.

    _Thier._ Ha! or are they only careful to revenge,
    Not to reward? or when, for your offences
    We study satisfaction, must the cure
    Be worse than the disease?

    _Brun._ Will you not hear me?

    _Thier._ To lose th' ability to perform those duties
    For which I entertain'd the name of Husband,
    Ask'd more than common sorrow; but t'impose
    For the redress of that defect, a torture
    In marking her to death, for whom alone
    I felt that weakness as a want, requires
    More than the making the head bald: or falling
    Thus flat upon the earth, or cursing that way,
    Or praying this, oh such a Scene of grief,
    And so set down, (the world the stage to act on)
    May challenge a Tragedian better practis'd
    Than I am to express it; for my cause
    Of passion is so strong, and my performance
    So weak, that though the part be good, I fear
    Th'ill acting of it, will defraud it of
    The poor reward it may deserve, mens pity.

    _Brun._ I have given you way thus long, a King, and what
    Is more, my Son, and yet a slave to that
    Which only triumphs over cowards sorrow,
    For shame look up.

    _Thier._ Is't you, look down on me:
    And if that you are capable to receive it,
    Let that return to you, that have brought forth
    One mark'd out only for it: what are these?
    Come they upon your privilege to tread on
    The Tomb of my afflictions?

    _Prot._ No, not we Sir.

    _Thier._ How dare you then omit the ceremony
    Due to the funeral of all my hopes,
    Or come unto the marriage of my sorrows,
    But in such colours as may sort with them?

    _Prot._ Alas; we will wear any thing.

    _Brun._ This is madness
    Take but my counsel.

    _Thier._ Yours? dare you again
    Though arm'd with th' authority of a mother,
    Attempt the danger that will fall on you
    If such another syllable awake it?
    Goe, and with yours be safe, I have such cause
    Of grief, nay more, to love it, that I will not
    Have such as these be sharers in it.

    _Lecu._ Madam.

    _Prot._ Another time were better.

    _Brun._ Do not sti[r],
    For I must be resolv'd, and will, be statues.

                            _Enter_ Martel.

    _Thier._ I, thou art welcome, and upon my soul
    Thou art an honest man, do you see, he has tears
    To lend to him whom prodigal expence
    Of sorrow, has made bankrupt of such treasure,
    Nay, thou dost well.

    _Mart._ I would it might excuse
    The ill I bring along.

    _Thier._ Thou mak'st me smile
    I[n] the heighth of my calamities, as if
    There could be the addition of an Atome,
    To the gyant-body of my miseries.
    But try, for I will hear thee, all sit down, 'tis death
    To any that shall dare to interrupt him
    In look, gesture, or word.

    _Mart._ And such attention
    As is due to the last, and the best story
    That ever was deliver'd, will become you,
    The griev'd _Ordella_, (for all other titles
    But take away from that) having from me
    Prompted by your last parting groan, enquir'd,
    What drew it from you, and the cause soon learn'd:
    For she whom barbarism could deny nothing,
    With such prevailing earnestness desir'd it,
    'Twas not in me, though it had been my death,
    To hide it from her, she I say, in whom
    All was, that _Athens_, _Rome_, or warlike _Sparta_,
    Have registred for good in their best Women:
    But nothing of their ill, knowing her self
    Mark'd out, (I know not by what power, but sure
    A cruel one) to dye, to give you children;
    Having first with a setled countenance
    Look'd up to Heaven, and then upon her self,
    (It being the next best object) and then smil'd,
    As if her joy in death to do you service,
    Would break forth, in despight of the much sorrow
    She shew'd she had to leave you: and then taking
    Me by the hand, this hand which I must ever
    Love better than I have done, since she touch'd it,
    Go said she, to my Lord, (and to goe to him
    Is such a happiness I must not hope for)
    And tell him that he too much priz'd a trifle
    Made only worthy in his love, and her
    Thankful acceptance, for her sake to rob
    The Orphan Kingdom of such guardians, as
    Must of necessity descend [from] him;
    And therefore in some part of recompence
    Of his much love, and to shew to the world
    That 'twas not her fault only, but her fate,
    That did deny to let her be the mother
    Of such most certain blessings: yet for proof,
    She did not envy her, that happy her,
    That is appointed to them, her [q]uick end
    Should make way for her, which no sooner spoke,
    But in a moment this too ready engine
    Made such a battery in the choisest Castle
    That ever nature made to defend life,
    That strait it shook, and sunk.

    _Thier._ Stay, dares any
    Presume to shed a tear before me? or
    Ascribe that worth unto themselves to merit:
    To do so for her? I have done, now on.

    _Mart._ Fall'n thus, once more she smil'd, as if that death
    For her had studied a new way to sever
    The soul and body, without sense of pain;
    And then tell him (quoth she) what you have seen,
    And with what willingness 'twas done: for which
    My last request unto him is, that he
    Would instantly make choice of one (most happy
    In being so chosen) to supply my place,
    By whom if heaven bless him with a daughter,
    In my remembrance let it bear my name
    Which said she dy'd.

    _Thier._ I hear this, and yet live;
    Heart! art thou thunder proof, will nothing break thee?
    She's dead, and what her entertainment may be
    In th'other world without me is uncertain,
    And dare I stay here unresolv'd?

    _Mart._ Oh Sir!

    _Brun._ Dear son.

    _Prot._ Great King.

    _Thier._ Unhand me, am I fall'n
    So low, that I have lost the power to be
    Disposer of my own life?

    _Mart._ Be but pleas'd
    To borrow so much time of sorrow, as
    To call to mind her last request, for whom
    (I must confess a loss beyond expression)
    You turn your hand upon your self, 'twas hers
    And dying hers, that you should live and happy
    In seeing little models of your self,
    By matching with another, and will you
    Leave any thing that she desir'd ungranted?
    And suffer such a life that was [l]aid down
    For your sake only to be fruitless?

    _Thier._ Oh thou dost throw charms upon me, against which
    I cannot stop my ears, bear witness heaven
    That not desire of life, nor love of pleasure[s]
    Nor any future comforts, but to give
    Peace to her blessed spirit in satisfying
    Her last demand, makes me defer our meeting,
    Which in my choice, and suddain choice shall be
    To all apparent.

    _Brun._ How? doe I remove one mischief
    To draw upon my head a greater?

    _Thier._ Go, thou only good man, to whom for her self
    Goodness is dear, and prepare to interr it
    In her that was; oh my heart! my _Ordella_,
    A monument worthy to be the casket
    Of such a jewel.

    _Mart._ Your command that makes way
    Unto my absence is a welcome one,
    For but your self there's nothing here _Martel_,
    Can take delight to look on; yet some comfort
    Goes back with me to her, who though she want it
    Deserves all blessings.                                     [_Exit._

    _Brun._ So soon to forget
    The loss of such a wife, believe it will
    Be censur'd in the world.

    _Thier._ Pray you no more,
    There is no arg[u]ment you can use to cross it,
    But does increase in me such a suspition
    I would not cherish--who's that?

                           _Enter_ Memberge.

    _Memb._ One, no guard
    Can put back from access, whose tongue no threats
    Nor praises can silence, a bold suitor, and
    For that which if you are your self, a King,
    You were made so to grant it, Justice, Justice.

    _Thier._ With what assurance dare you hope for that
    Which is deny'd to me? or how can I
    Stand bound to be just, unto such as are
    Beneath me, that find none from those that are
    Above me?

    _Memb._ There is justice, 'twere unfit
    That any thing but vengeance should fall on him,
    That by his giving way to more than murther,
    (For my dear fathers death was parricide)
    Makes it his own.

    _Brun._ I charge you hear her not.

    _Memb._ Hell cannot stop just prayers from ent'ring heaven,
    I must and will be heard Sir; but remember
    That he that by her plot fell, was your brother,
    And the place where, your Palace, against all
    Th' inviolable rites of hospitality,
    Your word, a Kings word, given up for his safety,
    His innocence, his protection, and the gods
    Bound to revenge the impious breach of such
    So great and sacred bonds; and can you wonder,
    (That in not punishing such a horrid murther
    You did it) that heavens favour is gone from you?
    Which never will return, until his bloud
    Be wash'd away in hers.

    _Brun._ Drag hence the wretch.

    _Thier._ Forbear, with what variety
    Of torments do I meet! oh thou hast open'd
    A Book, in which writ down in bloudy Letters,
    My conscience finds that I am worthy of
    More than I undergoe, but I'll begin
    For my _Ordella_'s sake, and for thine own
    To make less heavens great anger: thou hast lost
    A father, I to thee am so; the hope
    Of a good Husband, in me have one; nor
    Be fearful I am still no man, already
    That weakness is gone from me.

    _Brun._ That it might                                      [_Aside._
    Have ever grown inseparably upon thee,
    What will you do? Is such a thing as this
    Worthy the lov'd _Ordella_'s place, the daughter
    Of a poor Gardener?

    _Memb._ Your Son.

    _Thier._ The power
    To take away that lowness is in me.

    _Brun._ Stay yet, for rather than [that] thou shalt add
    Incest unto thy other sins, I will
    With hazard of my own life, utter all,
    _Theodoret_ was thy Brother.

    _Thier._ You deny'd it
    Upon your oath, nor will I now believe you,
    Your Protean turnings cannot change my purpose.

    _Memb._ And for me, be assur'd the means to be
    Reveng'd on thee, vile hag, admits no thought,
    But what tends to it.

    _Brun._ Is it come to that?
    Then have at the last refuge: art thou grown
    Insensible in [i]ll, that thou goest on
    Without the least compunction? there, take that
    To witness, that thou hadst a mother, which
    Foresaw thy cause of grief, and sad repentance,
    That so soon after blest _Ordella_'s death
    Without a tear thou canst imbrace another,
    Forgetful man.

    _Thier._ Mine eyes when she is nam'd
    Cannot forget their tribute, and your gift
    Is not unuseful now.

    _Lecu._ He's past all cure, that only touch is death.

    _Thier._ This night I'll keep it,
    To morrow I will send it you, and full of my affliction.

                                                        [_Exit_ Thierry.

    _Brun._ Is the poison mortal?

    _Lecu._ Above the help of Physick.

    _Brun._ To my wish,
    Now for our own security, you _Protaldye_
    Shall this night post towards _Austracia_,
    With Letters to _Theodorets_ bastard son,
    In which we will make known what for his rising
    We have done to _Thierry_: no denial,
    Nor no excuse in such acts must be thought of,
    Which all dislike, and all again commend
    When they are brought unto a happy end.                   [_Exeunt._




_Actus Quintus. Scæna Prima._


                  _Enter_ Devitry _and four Soldiers_.

    _Devi._ No War, no Money, no Master; banish'd the Court, not
    trusted in the City, whipt out of the Countrey, in what a triangle
    runs our misery: let me hear which of you has the best voice to
    beg in, for other hopes or fortunes I see you have not; be not
    nice, nature provided you with tones for the purpose, the peoples
    charity was your heritage, and I would see which of you deserves
    his birth-right.

    _Omnes._ We understand you not Captain.

    _Devit._ You see this cardicue, the last, and the only quintessence
    of 50 Crowns, distill'd in the limbeck of your gardage, of which
    happy piece thou shalt be treasurer: now he that can soonest
    perswade him to part with't, enjoyes it, possesses it, and with it,
    me and my future countenance.

    _1._ If they want Art to perswade it, I'll keep it my self.

    _Devit._ So you be not a partial judge in your own cause, you shall.

    _Omnes._ A match.

    _2._ I'll begin to you, brave Sir; be proud to make him happy by
    your liberality, whose tongue vouchsafes now to petition, was never
    heard before less than to command. I am a Soldier by profession, a
    Gentleman by birth, and an Officer by place, whose poverty blushes
    to be the cause, that so high a virtue should descend to the pity
    of your charity.

    _1._ In any case keep your high stile, it is not charity to shame
    any man, much less a virtue of your eminence, wherefore preserve
    your worth, and I'll preserve my money.

    _3._ You perswade? you are shallow, give way to merit: ah by the
    bread of [God] man, thou hast a bonny countenance and a blith,
    promising mickle good to a sicker womb, that has trode a long and
    a sore ground to meet with friends, that will owe much to thy
    reverence, when they shall hear of thy courtesie to their wandring
    countreyman.

    _1._ You that will use your friends so hardly to bring them in
    debt, Sir, will deserve worse of a stranger, wherefore pead on,
    pead on, I say.

    _4._ It is the Welch must do't, I see, comrade man of urship, _St.
    Tavy_ be her Patron, the gods of the mountains keep her cow and her
    cupboard; may she never want the green of the Leek, [nor] the fat
    of the Onion, if she part with her bounties to him, that is a great
    deal away from her cozines, and has two big suits in law to recover
    her heritage.

    _1._ Pardon me Sir, I will have nothing to do with your suits, it
    comes within the statute of maintenance: home to your cozines, and
    so[w]e garlick and hempseed, the one will stop your hunger; the
    other end your suits, _gammawash comrade, gammawash_.

    _4._ 'Foot he'll hoord all for himself.

    _Vitry._ Yes, let him; now comes my turn, I'll see if he can answer
    me: save you Sir, they say, you have that I want, Money.

    _1._ And that you are like to want, for ought I perceive yet.

    _Vitry._ Stand, deliver.

    _1._ 'Foot what mean you, you will not rob the Exchequer?

    _Vitry._ Do you prate?

    _1._ Hold, hold, here Captain.

    _2._ Why I could have done this before you.

    _3._ And I.

    _4._ And I.

    _Vit._ You have done this, brave man be proud to make him happy, by
    the bread of God man, thou hast a bonny countenance, comrade man
    of urship, _St. Tavy_ be her patron, out upon you, you uncurried
    colts, walking cans that have no souls in you, but a little Rosin
    to keep your ribs sweet, and hold in liquor.

    _Omnes._ Why, what would you have us to do Captain?

    _Devit._ Beg, beg, and keep Constables waking, wear out stocks
    and whipcord, maunder for butter-milk, dye of the Jaundice, yet
    have the cure about you, Lice, large Lice, begot of your own dust,
    and the heat of the Brick-kills, may you starve, and fear of the
    gallows, which is a gentle consumption to't, only preferr it, or
    may you fall upon your fear, and be hanged for selling those purses
    to keep you from famine, whose monies my valour empties, and be
    cast without other evidence; here is my Fort, my Castle of defence,
    who comes by shall pay me toll, the first purse is your mitimus
    slaves.

    _2._ The purse, 'foot we'll share in the money Captain, if any come
    within a furlong of our fingers.

    _4._ Did you doubt but we could steal as well as your self, did not
    I speak Welsh?

    _3._ We are thieves from our cradles, and will dye so.

    _Vit._ Then you will not beg again.

    _Omnes._ Yes, as you did, stand, and deliver.

    _2._ Hark, here comes handsel, 'tis a Trade quickly set up, and as
    soon cast down.

    _Vitry._ Have goodness in your minds varlets, and to't like men; he
    that has more money than we, cannot be our friend, and I hope there
    is no law for spoiling the enemy.

    _3._ You need not instruct us farther, your example pleads enough.

    _Devitry._ Disperse your selves, and as their company is, fall on.

    _2._ Come, there are a band of 'em, I'll charge single.       [_Exit
    Soldier[s]._

                           _Enter_ Protaldye.

    _Prot._ 'Tis wonderful dark, I have lost my man, and dare not
    call for him, lest I should have more followers than I would pay
    wages to; what throws am I in, in this travel! these be honourable
    adventures; had I that honest bloud in my veins again Queen, that
    your feats and these frights have drain'd from me, honor should
    pull hard, e'r it drew me into these brakes.

    _Devitry._ Who goes there?

    _Prot._ Hey ho, here's a pang of preferment.

    _Devi._ 'Heart, who goes there?

    _Prot._ He that has no heart to your acquaintance, what shall I do
    with my Jewels and my Letter, my codpiece that's too loose, good,
    my boots, who is't that spoke to me? here's a friend.

    _Devit._ We shall find that presently, stand, as you love your
    safety, stand.

    _Prot._ That unlucky word of standing, has brought me to all this,
    hold, or I shall never stand you.

    _Devit._ I should know that voice, deliver.

                           _Enter Soldiers._

    _Prot._ All that I have is at your service Gentlemen, and much good
    may it do you.

    _Devit._ Zones down with him, do you prate?

    _Prot._ Keep your first word as you are Gentlemen, and let me
    stand, alas, what do you mean?

    _2._ To tye you to us Sir, bind you in the knot of friendship.

    _Prot._ Alas Sir, all the physick in _Europe_ cannot bind me.

    _Devit._ You should have jewels about you, stones, precious stones.

    _1._ Captain away, there's company within hearing, if you stay
    longer, we are surpriz'd.

    _Devit._ Let the Devil come, I'll pillage this Fregat a little
    better yet.

    _2._ 'Foot we are lost, they are upon us.

    _Devit._ Ha, upon us, make the least noise, 'tis thy parting gaspe.

    _3._ Which way shall we make Sir?

    _Devit._ Every man his own; do you hear, only bind me, bind me
    before you goe, and when the company's past, make to this place
    again, this karvel should have better lading in him, you are slow,
    why do you not tye harder?

    _1._ You are sure enough I warrant you Sir.

    _Devit._ Darkness befriend you, away.              [_Exit Soldiers._

    _Prot._ What tyrants have I met with, they leave me alone in the
    dark, yet would not have me cry. I shall grow wondrous melancho[l]y
    if I stay long here without company; I was wont to get a nap with
    saying my prayers, I'll see if they will work upon me now; but
    then, if I should talk in my sleep, and they hear me, they would
    make a Recorder of my windpipe, slit my throat: heaven be prais'd,
    I hear some noise, it may be new purchase, and then I shall have
    fellows.

    _Devit._ They are gone past hearing, now to taske _Devitry_, help,
    help, as you are men help; some charitable hand, relieve a poor
    distressed miserable wretch, thieves, wicked thieves have robb'd
    me; bound me.

    _Prot._ 'Foot, would they had gagg'd you too, your noise will
    betray us, and fetch them again.

    _Devit._ What blessed tongue spake to me, where, where where are
    you Sir?

    _Prot._ A plague of your bawling throat, we are well enough if you
    have the grace to be thankful for't, do but snore to me, and 'tis
    as much as I desire, to pass away time with, till morning, then
    talk as loud as you please Sir, I am bound not to stir, therefore
    lie still and snore I say.

    _Devit._ Then you have met with thieves too I see.

    _Prot._ And desire to meet with no more of them.

    _Devit._ Alas, what can we suffer more? they are far enough by this
    time; have they not all, all that we have Sir?

    _Prot._ No by my faith have they not Sir; I gave them one trick to
    boot for their learning, my Boots Sir, my Boots, I have sav'd my
    stock, and my jewels in them, and therefore desire to hear no more
    of them.

    _Devit._ Now blessing on your wit, Sir, what a dull slave was I,
    dreamt not of your conveyance, help to unbind me Sir, and I'll
    undoe you, my life for yours, no worse thief than my self meets you
    again this night.

    _Prot._ Reach me thy hands.

    _Devit._ Here Sir, here, I could beat my brains out, that could not
    think of boots, boots Sir, wide topt boots, I shall love them the
    better whilst I live; but are you sure your Jewels are here Sir?

    _Prot._ Sure sayst thou? ha, ha, ha.

    _Devit._ So ho, illo ho.                         [_Within Soldiers._
    Here Captain, here.

    _Prot._ 'Foot what do you mean Sir?

                           _Enter Soldiers._

    _Devit._ A trick to boot, say you; here you dull slaves, purchase,
    purchase the soul of the Rock, Diamonds, sparkling Diamonds.

    _Prot._ I'm betraid, lost, past recovery, lost, as you are men.

    _Devit._ Nay rook, since you will be prating, we'll share your
    carrion with you, have you any other conveyance now Sir?

    _1._ 'Foot here are Letters, Epistles, familiar Epistles, we'll see
    what treasure is in them, they are seal'd sure.

    _Prot._ Gentlemen, as you are Gentlemen spare my Letters, and take
    all willingly, all: I'll give you a release, a general release, and
    meet you here to morrow with as much more.

    _Devit._ Nay, since you have your tricks, and your conveyances, we
    will not leave a wrinkle of you unsearcht.

    _Prot._ Hark, there comes company, you will be betraid, as you love
    your safeties, beat out my brains, I shall betray you else.

    _Devit._ Treason, unheard of Treason, monstrous, monstrous
    villanies.

    _Prot._ I confess my self a Traitor, shew your selves good
    subjects, and hang me up for't.

    _1._ If it be treason, the discovery will get our pardon, Captain.

    _Devit._ Would we were all lost, hang'd, quarter'd, to save this
    one, one innocent Prince; _Thierry_'s poison'd, by his mother
    poison'd, the Mistriss to this stallion, who by that poison ne'er
    shall sleep again.

    _2._ 'Foot let us mince him by piece-meal[e], till he eat himself
    up.

    _3._ Let us dig out his heart with needles, and half broil him like
    a Mussel.

    _Prot._ Such another and I prevent you, my bloud's setled already.

    _Devit._ Here's that shall remove it, toad, viper, drag him unto
    _Martel_, unnatural par[r]icide, cruel, bloudy woman.

    _Omnes._ On you dogfish, leech, caterpillar.

    _Devit._ A longer sight of him will make my rage turn pity, and
    with his suddain end, prevent revenge and torture, wicked, wicked
    _Brunhalt_.                                                 [_Exit._

                 _Enter_ Bawdber _and three Courtiers_.

    _1._ Not sleep at all, no means.

    _2._ No Art can do it.

    _Bawdb._ I will assure you, he can sleep no more
    Than a hooded Hawk[e], a centinel to him,
    Or one of the City Constables are tops.

    _3._ How came he so?

    _Bawdb._ They are too wise that dare know,
    Something's amiss, heaven help all.

    _1._ What cure has he?

    _Bawdb._ Armies of those we call Physitians, some with glisters,
    Some with Lettice-caps, some posset-drinks, some Pills,
    Twenty consulting here about a drench,
    [As many here to blood him;
    Then comes a Don of _Spaine_, and he prescribes
    More cooling opium then would kill a turke,
    Or quench a whore ith dogdayes; after him
    A wise Italian, and he cries, tie unto him
    A woman of fourescore, whose bones are marble,
    Whose bloud snow water, not so much heate about her
    As may conceive a prayer: after him
    An English Doctor, with a bunch of pot hearbes;
    And he cries out Endiffe and suckery,
    With a few mallow rootes and butter milke,
    And talkes of oyle made of a churchmans charity,
    Yet still he wakes.

    _1._ But your good honor
    Has a praye[r] in store if all should faile.

    _Bawdb._ I could have prayed, and handsomely,
    But age and an ill memory.

    _3._ Has spoyl'd your primmer.

    _Bawdb._ Yet if there be a man of faith i'the Court,
    And can pray for a pension.

        _Enter Thierry, on a bed, with Doctors and attendants._

    _2._ Here's the King Sir,
    And those that will pray without pay.

    _Bawdb._ Then pray for me too.

    _1 Doct._ How does your grace now feele your selfe?

    _Thier._ What's that?

    _1 Doct._ Nothing at all Sir, but your fancy.

    _Thier._ Tell me,
    Can ever these eyes more shut up in slumbers,
    Assure my soule there is sleepe? is there night
    And rest for humane labors? do not you
    And all the world as I do, out stare time,
    And live like funerall lampes never extinguisht?
    Is there a grave, and do not flatter me,
    Nor feare to tell me truth; and in that grave
    Is there a hope I shall sleepe, can I die,
    Are not my miseries immortall? o
    The happinesse of him that drinkes his water
    After his weary day, and sleepes for ever,
    Why do you crucifie me thus with faces,
    And gaping strangely upon one another,
    When shall I rest?

    _2 Doct._ O Sir, be patient.

    _Thier._ Am I not patient? have I not endur'd
    More then a maingy dog among your dosses?
    Am I not now your patient? yee can make
    Unholesome fooles sleepe for a garded foote-cloth;
    Whores for a hot sin offering; yet I must crave
    That feede ye, and protect ye, and proclame ye,
    Because my powre is far above your searching,
    Are my diseases so? can ye cure none
    But those of equall ignorance, dare ye kill me?

    _1 Doct._ We do beseech your grace be more reclam'd,
    This talke doth but distemper you.

    _Thier._ Well, I will die
    In spight of all your potions; one of you sleepe,
    Lie downe and sleepe here, that I may behold
    What blessed rest it is my eyes are robde of:
    See, he can sleepe, sleepe any where, sleepe now,
    When he that wakes for him can never slumber,
    I'st not a dainty ease?

    _2 Doct._ Your grace shall feele it.

    _Thier._ O never I, never, the eyes of heaven
    See but their certaine motions, and then sleepe,
    The rages of the _Ocean_ have their slumbers,
    And quiet silver calmes; each violence
    Crownes in his end a peace, but my fixt fires
    Shall never, never set, who's that?

             _Enter Martell, Brunhalt, Devitry, souldiers._

    _Mart._ No woman,
    Mother of mischiefe, no, the day shall die first,
    And all good things live in a worse then thou art,
    Ere thou shalt sleepe, doest thou see him?

    _Brun._ Yes, and curse him,
    And all that love him foole, and all live by him.

    _Mart._ Why art thou such a monster?

    _Brun._ Why art thou
    So tame a knave to aske me?

    _Mart._ Hope of hell,
    By this faire holy light, and all his wrongs
    Which are above thy yeares, almost thy vices,
    Thou shalt not rest, not feele more what is pitty,
    Know nothing necessary, meete no society,
    But what shall curse and crucifie thee, feele in thy selfe
    Nothing but what thou art, bane, and bad conscience,
    Till this man rest; but for whose reverence
    Because thou art his mother, I would say
    Whore, this shall be, do ye nod? ile waken ye
    With my swords point.

    _Brun._ I wish no more of heaven,
    Nor hope no more, but a sufficient anger
    To torture thee.

    _Mart._ See, she that makes you see Sir,
    And to your misery still see, your mother,
    The mother of your woes Sir, of your waking,
    The mother of your peoples cries, and curses,
    Your murdering mother, your malicious mother:

    _Thier._ Phisitians, halfe my state to sleepe an houre now;
    Is it so mother?

    _Brun._ Yes it is so sonne;
    And were it yet againe to do, it should be.

    _Mart._ She nods againe, swing her.

    _Thier._ But mother,
    For yet I love that reverence, and to death
    Dare not forget you have bin so; was this,
    This endlesse misery, this curelesse malice,
    This snatching from me all my youth together,
    All that you made me for, and happy mothers
    Crownde with eternall time are proud to finish,
    Done by your will?

    _Brun._ It was, and by that will.

    _Thier._ O mother, do not lose your name, forget not
    The touch of nature in you, tendernes
    'Tis all the soule of woman, all the sweetnesse;
    Forget not I beseech you what are children,
    Nor how you [have] gron'd for um, to what love
    They are borne inheritors, with what care kept,
    And as they rise to ripenesse still remember
    How they impe out your age; and when time calls you,
    That as an Autum flower you fall, forget not
    How round about your hearse they hang like penons.

    _Brun._ Holy foole,
    Whose patience to prevent my wrongs has kill'd thee,
    Preach not to me of punishments, or feares,
    Or what I ought to be, but what I am,
    A woman in her liberall will defe[at]ed,
    In all her greatnesse crost, in pleasure blasted,
    My angers have bin laught at, my ends slighted,
    And all those glories that had crownd my fortunes,
    Suffer'd by blasted vertue to be scatter'd,
    I am the fruitefull mother of these angers,
    And what such have done, reade, and know thy ruine.

    _Thier._ Heaven forgive you.

    _Mart._ She tells you true, for milions of her mischiefes
    Are now apparent, _Protaldye_, we have taken
    An equall agent with her, to whose care
    After the damnde defeate on you, she trusted.

                           _Enter Messenger._

    The bringing in of _Leonor_ the bastard
    Son to your murther'd brother, her Physitian
    By this time is attacht to that damn'd devil.

    _Mess._ 'Tis like he will be so, for e'er we came
    Fearing an equal justice for his mischiefs,
    He drencht himself.

    _Brun._ He did like one of mine then.

    _Thier._ Must I still see these miseries, no night
    To hide me from their horrors, that _Protaldy_
    See justice fall upon.

    _Brun._ Now I could sleep too.

                            _Enter_ Ordella.

    _Mart._ I'll give you yet more Poppy, bring the Lady
    And heaven in her embraces; gives him quiet,
    Madam, unveil yourself.

    _Ordel._ I do forgive you,
    And though you sought my bloud, yet I'll pray for you.

    _Brun._ Art thou alive?

    _Mart._ Now could you sleep?

    _Brun._ For ever.

    _Mart._ Go carry her without wink of sleep, or quiet,
    Where her strong knave _Protaldye_'s broke o'th' wheel,
    And let his cries and roars be musick to her,
    I mean to waken her.

    _Thier._ Do her no wrong.

    _Mart._ Nor right, as you love justice.

    _Brun._ I will think,
    And if there be new curses in old nature,
    I have a soul dare send them.

    _Mart._ Keep her waking.                           [_Exit_ Brunhalt.

    _Thier._ What's that appears so sweetly? there's that face.

    _Mart._ Be moderate, Lady.

    _Thier._ That Angels face.

    _Mart._ Goe nearer.

    _Thier. Martel_, I cannot last long, see the soul,
    I see it perfectly of my _Ordella_,
    The heavenly figure of her sweetness there,
    Forgive me gods, it comes, Divinest substance,
    Kneel, kneel, kneel every one, Saint of thy Sex,
    If it be for my cruelty thou comest,
    Do ye see her hoe?

    _Mart._ Yes Sir, and you shall know her.

    _Thier._ Down, down again, to be reveng'd for bloud,
    Sweet Spirit I am ready, she smiles on me,
    O blessed sign of Peace.

    _Mart._ Goe nearer Lady.

    _Ordel._ I c[o]me to make you happy.

    _Thier._ Hear you that, Sir?
    She comes to crown my soul: away, get sacrifice
    Whilst I with holy Honors.

    _Mart._ She's alive, Sir.

    _Thier._ In everlasting life, I know it friend,
    Oh happy, happy soul.

    _Ordel._ Alas, I live Sir,
    A mortal woman still.

    _Thier._ Can spirits weep too?

    _Mart._ She's no spirit Sir, pray kiss her, Lady,
    Be very gentle to him.

    _Thier._ Stay, she is warm,
    And by my life the same lips tell me brightness,
    Are you the same _Ordella_ still?

    _Mart._ The same, Sir,
    Whom heavens and my good Angel staid from ruin.

    _Thier._ Kiss me again.

    _Ordel._ The same still, still your servant.

    _Thier._ 'Tis she, I know her now _Martel_; sit down sweet.
    Oh blest and happiest woman, a dead slumber
    Begins to creep upon me, oh my jewel!

                    _Enter Messenger and_ Memberge.

    _Ordel._ Oh sleep my Lord.

    _Thier._ My joyes are too much for me.

    _Mess. Brunhalt_ impatient of her constraint to see
    _Protaldye_ tortur'd, has choak'd her self.

    _Mart._ No more, her sins go with her.

    _Thier._ Love, I must die, I faint, close up my glasses.

    _1 Doct._ The Queen faints too, and deadly.

    _Thier._ One dying kiss.

    _Ordel._ My last Sir, and my dearest, and now
    Close my eyes too.

    _Thier._ Thou perfect woman.
    _Martel_, the Kingdom's yours, take _Memberge_ to you,
    And keep my line alive; nay, weep not, Lady,
    Take me, I go.

    _Ordel._ Take me too, farewel honour.                   [_Die both._

    _2 Doct._ They are gone for ever.

    _Mart._ The peace of happy souls go after them,
    Bear them to their last beds, whilst I study
    A Tomb to speak their loves; whilst old time laste[t]h
    I am your King in sorrows.

    _Omnes._ We your subjects.

    _Mart. Devitry_, for your service, be near us,
    Whip out these instruments of this mad mother
    From Court, and all good people; and because
    She was born Noble, let that Title find her
    A private grave, but neither tongue nor honor:
    And now lead on, they that shall read this story,
    Shall find that Virtue lives in Good, not Glory.

                                                        [_Exeunt Omnes._




The Woman-Hater.




PROLOGUE.


    _Gentlemen, Inductions are out of date, and a Prologue in Verse,
    is as stale as a black Velvet Cloak, and a Bay Garland: therefore
    you shall have it plain Prose, thus: If there be any amongst you,
    that come to hear lascivious Scenes, let them depart: for I do
    pronounce this, to the utter discomfort of all twopenny Gallery
    men, you shall have no bawdery in it: or if there be any lurking
    amongst you in corners, with Table-books, who have some hope to
    find fit matter to feed his ---- ---- malice on, let them claspe
    them up, and slink away, or stay and be converted. For he that
    made this Play, means to please Auditors so, as he may be an
    Auditor himself hereafter, and not purchase them with the dear
    [losse] of his [e]ares: I dare not call it_ Comedy _or_ Tragedy;
    _'tis perfectly neither: A Play it is, which was meant to make you_
    _laugh, how it [will] please you, is not written in my Part: for_
    _though you should like it to day, perhaps your selves know not
    how you should digest it to morrow: Some things in it you may
    meet with, which are out of the common road: a Duke there is,
    and the Scæne lies in Italy, as those two things lightly we never
    miss. But you shall not find in it the ordinary and over-worn
    Trade of jesting at Lords and Courtiers, and Citizens, without
    taxation of any particular or new vice by them found out, but at
    the persons of them; such, he, that made this, thinks vile, and
    for his own part vows; That he did never think, but that a [Lord]
    born might be a wise man, and a Courtier an honest man._




_Actus Primus. Scæna Prima._


      _Enter Duke of_ Millain, Arrigo, Lucio, _and two Courtiers_.

    Tis now the sweetest time for sleep, the night is scarce
    spent; _Arrigo_, what's a clock?

    _Arri._ Past four.

    _Duke._ Is it so much, and yet the morn not up?
    See yonder where the shamefac'd Maiden comes
    Into our sight, how gently doth she slide,
    Hiding her chaste cheeks, like a modest Bride,
    With a red veil of blushes; as [is] she,
    Even such all modest virtuous Women be.
    Why thinks your Lordship I am up so soon?

    _Lucio._ About some weighty State plot.

    _Duke._ And what thinks your knighthood of it?

    _Arr._ I do think to cure some strange corruptions in the
             Common-wealth.

    _Duke._ Y'are well conceited of your selves to think
    I chuse you out to bear me company
    In such affairs and business of state:
    For am not I a pattern for all Princes,
    That break my soft sleep for my subjects good?
    Am I not careful? very provident?

    _Luc._ Your Grace is careful.

    _Arri._ Very provident.

    _Duke._ Nay, knew you how my serious working plots,
    Concern the whole Estates of all my subjects,
    I, and their lives; then _Lucio_ thou wouldst swear,
    I were a loving Prince.

    _Luc._ I think your Grace intends to walk the publick
    streets disguis'd, to see the streets disorders.

    _Duke._ It is not so.

    _Arri._ You secretly will cross some other states, that do
    conspire against you.

    _Duke._ Weightier far:
    You are my friends, and you shall have the cause;
    I break my sleeps thus soon to see a wench.

    _Luc._ Y'are wond'rous careful for your subjects good.

    _Arri._ You are a very loving Prince indeed.

    _Duke._ This care I take for them, when their dull eyes,
    Are clos'd with heavy slumbers.

    _Arri._ Then you rise to see your wenches?

    _Luc._ What _Milan_ beauty hath the power, to charme her
    Sovereign eyes, and break his sleeps?

    _Duke._ Sister to Count _Valore_, she's a Maid
    Would make a Prince forget his throne, and sta[t]e,
    And lowly kneel to her: the general fate
    Of all mortality, is hers to give;
    As she disposeth, so we die and live.

    _Luc._ My Lord, the day grows clear, the Court will rise.

    _Duk._ We stay too long, is the _Umbranoes_ head as we commanded,
    sent to the sad _Gondarino_, our General?

    _Arr._ 'Tis sent.

    _Duke._ But stay, where shines that light?

    _Arri._ 'Tis in the chamber of _Lazarello_.

    _Duke. Lazarillo?_ what is he?

    _Arri._ A Courtier my Lord, and one that I wonder your Grace knows
    not: for he hath followed your Court, and your last predecessors,
    from place to place, any time this seven year[e], as faithfully as
    your Spits and your Dripping-pans have done, and almost as greasily.

    _Duke._ Oh we know him, as we have heard, he keeps a Kalender of
    all the [famous] dishes of meat, that have been in the Court, ever
    since our great Grandfathers time; and when he can thrust in at no
    Table, he makes his meat of that.

    _Lucio._ The very same my Lord.

    _Duk[e]._ A Courtier call'st thou him?
    Believe me _Lucio_, there be many such
    About our Court, respected, as they think,
    Even by our self; with thee I will be plain:

    We Princes do use, to preferre many for nothing, and to take
    particular and free knowledg[e], almost in the nature of
    acquaintance of many; whom we do use only for our pleasures, and
    [d]o give largely to numbers; more out of policy to be thought
    liberal, and by that means to make the people strive to deserve
    our Love; than to reward any particular desert of theirs, to whom
    we give: and do suffer our selves to hear flatterers, more for
    recreation

    Than for love of it, though we seldom hate it:
    And yet we know all these, and when we please,
    Can touch the wheel, and turn their names about.

    _Luc._ I wonder they that know their states so well, should fancy
    such base slaves.

    _Duke._ Thou wond'rest _Lucio_,
    Dost not thou think, if thou wert Duke of _Milan_,
    Thou should'st be flattered?

    _Luc._ I know my Lord, I would not.

    _Duke._ Why so, I thought till I was Duke, I thought I should have
    left me no more flatterers, than there are now Plain-dealers; and
    yet for all this my resolution, I am most palpably flattered: the
    poor man may loath covetousness and flattery, but fortune will
    alter the mind when the wind turns: there may be well a little
    conflict, but it will drive the billows before it.

    _Arrigo_ it grows late, for see, fair _Thetis_ hath undone the barrs
    To _Phebus_ team; and his unrival'd light,
    Hath cha[s]'d the mornings modest blush away:
    Now must we to our love, bright _Paphian_ Queen;
    Thou _Cytherean_ goddess, that delights
    In stirring glances, and art still thy self,
    More toying than thy team of Sparrows be;
    Thou laughing _Errecina_, oh inspire
    Her heart with love, or lessen my desire.                 [_Exeunt._


_Scæna Secunda._

                    _Enter_ Lazarillo _and his boy_.

    _Laz._ Go run, search, pry in every nook and angle of the Kitchins,
    Larders, and Pasteries, know what meat's boil'd, bak'd, rost,
    stew'd, fri'd, or sous'd, at this dinner to be serv'd directly, or
    indirectly, to every several Table in the Court, be gone.

    _Boy._ I run, but not so fast as your mouth will do upon the stroke
    of Eleven.                                              [_Exit Boy._

    _Laz._ What an excellent thing did God bestow upon man, when he
    [did give] him a good stomach! what unbounded graces there are
    pour'd upon them that have the continual command of the very best
    of these blessings! 'tis an excellent thing to be a Prince; he is
    serv'd with such admirable variety of Fare; such innumerable choice
    of Delicates; his Tables are full fraught with most nourishing
    food, and his Cubbards heavy laden with rich Wines; his Court
    is still filled with most [pleasing varieties]: In the Summer,
    his Palace is full of Green Geese; and in Winter it [swarmeth]
    Woodcocks,

    Oh thou goddess of Plenty
    Fill me this day with some rare delicates
    And I will every year most constantly,
    As this day celebrate a sumptuous Feast,
    If thou wilt send me victuals in thine honor;
    And to it shall be bidden for thy sake,
    Even all the valiant stomachs in the Court:
    All short-cloak'd Knights, and all cross-garter'd Gentlemen;
    All pump and pantofle, foot-cloth riders;
    With all the swarming generation
    Of long stocks, short pain'd hose, and huge stuff'd doublets:
    All these shall eat, and which is more than yet
    Hath e'er been seen, they shall be satisfied.
    I wonder my Ambassador returns not!

                              _Enter Boy._

    _Boy._ Here I am Master.

    _Laza._ And welcome:
    Never did that sweet Virgin in her smock,
    Fair-cheek'd _Andromeda_, when to the rock
    Her Ivorie limbs were chain'd, and straight before
    A huge Sea-monster, tumbling to the shore,
    To have devour'd her, with more longing sight
    Expect the coming of some hardy Knight,
    That might have quell'd his pride, and set her free,
    Than I with longing sight have look'd for thee.

    _Boy._ Your _Perseus_ is come Master, that will destroy him,
    The very comfort of whose presence shuts
    The monster hunger from your yelping guts.

    _Laza._ Brief boy, brief, discourse the service of each several
    Table compendiously.

    _Boy._ Here's a Bill of all Sir.

    _Laza._ Give it me, a Bill of all the several services this day
    appointed for every Table in the Court,

    I, this is it on which my hopes relye,
    Within this paper all my joyes are clos'd:
    Boy, open it, and read it with reverence.

    _Boy._ For the Captain of the Guards Table, three chines of Beef,
    and two jo[l]ls of Sturgeon.

    _Laza._ A portly service, but gross, gross, proceed to the Dukes
    own Table, dear boy, to the Dukes own Table.

    _Boy._ For the Dukes own Table, the head of an _Umbrana_.

    _Laza._ Is't possible? can Heaven be so propitious to the Duke?

    _Boy._ Yes, I'll assure you Sir, 'tis possible, Heaven is so
    propitious to him.

    _Laza._ Why then he is the richest Prince alive:
    He were the wealthiest Monarch in all _Europe_,
    Had he no other Territories, Dominions, Provinces, Seats,
    No[r] Palaces, but only that _Umbrana_'s head.

    _Boy._ 'Tis very fresh and sweet, Sir, the fish was taken but
    this night, and the head, as a rare novelty, appointed by special
    commandement for the Dukes own Table, this dinner.

    _Laza._ If poor unworthy I may come to eat
    Of this most sacred dish, I here do vow
    (If that blind Huswife, Fortune will bestow
    But means on me) to keep a sumptuous house,

    A board groaning under the heavy burden of the beasts that cheweth
    the cudd, and the Fowl that cutteth the Air: I shall not like the
    Table of a countrey Justice, besprinkled over with all manner of
    cheap Sallads, sliced Beef, Giblets, and Petitoes, to fill up room,
    nor should there stand any great, cumbersom, un-cut-up pies, at
    the nether end fill'd with moss and stones, partly to make a shew
    with and partly to keep the lower Mess from eating, nor shall my
    meat come in sneaking, like the City service, one dish a quarter
    of an hour after another, and gone, as if they had appointed to
    meet there, and had mistook the hour, nor should it, like the new
    Court service, come in in haste, as if it fain would be gone again,
    all courses at once, like a hunting breakfast, but I would have
    my several courses, and my dishes well fill'd, my first course
    should be brought in after the antient manner, by a score of old
    bleer-ey'd Serving-men, in long blew coats, (marry they shall buy
    Silk, Facing, and Buttons themselves) but that's by the way.

    _Boy._ Master the time calls on, will you be walking?   [_Exit Boy._

    _Laza._ Follow boy, follow, my guts were half an hour since in the
    privy Kitchin.                                            [_Exeunt._


_Scæna Tertia._

                 _Enter Count, and his Sister_ Oriana.

    _Oria._ Faith brother, I must needs go yonder.

    _Count._ And faith Sister what will you do yonder?

    _Oria._ I know the Lady _Honoria_ will be glad to see me.

    _Count._ Glad to see you? faith the Lady _Honoria_ cares for you
    as she doth for all other young Ladies, she's glad to see you, and
    will shew you the Privy Garden, and tell you how many Gowns the
    Duchess had; Marry if you have ever an old Uncle, that would be a
    Lord, or ever a kinsman that hath done a murther, or committed a
    robbery, and will give good store of Money to procure his pardon,
    then the Lady _Honoria_ will be glad to see you.

    _Oria._ I, but they say one shall see fine sights at the Court.

    _Count._ I'll tell you what you shall see, you shall see many faces
    of mans making, for you shall find very few as God left them: and
    you shall see many legs too; amongst the rest you shall behold one
    pair, the feet of which, were in times past, sockless, but are now
    through the change of time (that alters all things) very strangely
    become the legs of a Knight and a Courtier; another pair you shall
    see, that were heir apparent legs to a Glover, these legs hope
    shortly to be honourable; when they pass by they will bow, and the
    mouth to these legs, will seem to offer you some Courtship; it
    [will] swear, but [it] will lye, hear it not.

    _Oria._ Why, and are not these fine sights?

    _Count._ Sister, in seriousness you yet are young
    And fair, a fair young Maid, and apt.

    _Oria._ Apt?

    _Count._ Exceeding apt[, apt] to be drawn to.

    _Oria._ To what?

    _Count._ To that you should not be, 'tis no dispraise,
    She is not bad that hath desire to ill,
    But she that hath no power to rule that Will:
    For there you shall be wooed in other kinds
    Than yet your years have known, the chiefest men
    Will seem to throw themselves
    As vassals at your [service], kiss your hand,
    Prepare [you] Banquets, Masques, Shews, all inticements
    That Wit and Lust together can devise,
    To draw a Lady from the state of Grace
    To an old Lady widdows Gallery;
    And they will praise your virtues, beware that,
    The only way to turn a Woman whore,
    Is to commend her chastity: you'll goe?

    _Oria._ I would go, if it were but only to shew you, that I could
    be there, and be mov'd with none of these tricks.

    _Count._ Your servants are ready?

    _Oria._ An hour since.

    _Count._ Well, if you come off clear from this hot service, Your
    praise shall be the greater. Farewel Sister.

    _Oria._ Farewel Brother.

    _Count._ Once more, if you stay in the presence till candle-light,
    keep on the foreside o'th' Curtain; and do you hear, take heed
    of the old Bawd, in the cloth of Tissue sleeves, and the knit
    Mittines. Farewel Sister.                              [_Exit_ Oria.

    Now am I idle, I would I had been a Scholar, that I might a studied
    now: the punishment of meaner men is, they have too much to do;
    our only misery is, that without company we know not what to do;
    I must take some of the common courses of our Nobility; which is
    thus: if I can find no company that likes me, pluck off my Hatband,
    throw an old Cloak over my face, and as if I would not be known,
    walk hastily through the streets, till I be discovered; then there
    goes Count such a one, says one; there goes Count such a one, says
    another: Look how fast he goes, says a third; there's some great
    matters in hand questionless, says a fourth; when all my business
    is to hav[e] them say so: this hath been used; or if I can find any
    company, I'll after dinner to the Stage, to see a Play; where, when
    I first enter, you shall have a murmure in the house, every one
    that does not know cries, What Nobleman is that? all the Gallants
    on the Stage rise, vail to me, kiss their hand, offer me their
    places: then I pick out some one, whom I please to grace among the
    rest, take his seat, use it, throw my cloak over my face, and laugh
    at him: the poor Gentleman imagines himself most highly grac'd,
    thinks all the Auditors esteem him one of my bosom friends; and
    in right special regard with me. But here comes a Gentleman, that
    I hope will make me better sport, than either street and stage
    fooleries.

                      _Enter_ Lazarello _and Boy_.

    This man loves to eat good meat, always provided, he do not pay for
    it himself, he goes by the name of the _Hungry Courtier_, marry,
    because I think that name will not sufficiently distinguish him,
    for no doubt he hath more fellows there, his name is _Lazarello_,
    he is none of these [same] ordinary eaters, that will devour three
    breakfasts, and as many dinners, without any prejudice to their
    Beavers, Drinkings, or Suppers; but he hath a more courtly kind
    of hunger, and doth hunt more after novelty, than plenty, I'll
    overhear him.

    _Laza._ Oh thou most itching kindly appetite,
    Which every creature in his stomach feels;
    Oh leave, leave yet at last thus to torment me.
    Three several Sallads have I sacrific'd,
    Bedew'd with precious oil and vinegar
    Already to appease thy greedy wrath. Boy.

    _Boy._ Sir.

    _Laza._ Will the Count speak with me?

    _Boy._ One of his Gentlemen is gone to inform him of your coming,
    Sir.

    _Laza._ There is no way left for me to compass th[is] Fish-head,
    but by being presently made known to the Duke.

    _Boy._ That will be hard Sir.

    _Laza._ When I have tasted of this sacred dish,
    Then shall my bones rest in my Fathers tomb
    In peace; then shall I dye most willingly,
    And as a dish be serv'd to satisfie,
    Deaths hunger, and I will be buried thus:
    My Bier shall be a charger born by four,
    The Coffin where I lye, a powd'ring-tub,
    Bestrew'd with Lettice, and cool Sallad herbs,
    My Winding-sheet of Tansies, the black Guard
    Shall be my solemn Mourners, and instead
    Of ceremonies, wholsom burial Prayers:
    A printed dirge in rhyme, shall bury me.
    Instead of tears, let them pour Capon sauce upon my hearse,
    And salt instead of dust, Manchets for stones, for other glorious
             shields
    Give me a Voider; and above my Hearse
    For a Trutch sword, my naked knife stuck up.

                                         [_The Count discovers himself._

    _Boy._ Master, the Count's here.

    _Laza._ Where? my Lord I do beseech you.

    _Count._ Y'are very welcome Sir, I pray you stand up, you shall
    dine with me.

    _Laza._ I do beseech your Lordship by the love I still have born to
    your honourable house.

    _Count._ Sir, what need all this? you shall dine with me, I pray
    rise.

    _Laza._ Perhaps your Lordship takes me for one of these same
    fellows, that do as it were respect victuals.

    _Count._ Oh Sir by no means.

    _Laza._ Your Lordship has often promised, that whensoever I should
    affect greatness, your own hand should help to raise me.

    _Count._ And so much still assure your self of.

    _Laza._ And though I must confess, I have ever shun'd popularity,
    by the example of others, yet I do now feel my self a little
    ambitious, your Lordship is great, and though young, yet a Privy
    Counsellor.

    _Count._ I pray you Sir leap into the matter, what would You have
    me do for you?

    _Laza._ I would intreat your Lordship to make me known to the Duke.

    _Count._ When Sir?

    _Laza._ Suddainly my Lord, I would have you present me unto him
    this morning.

    _Count._ It shall be done, but for what virtues, would you have him
    take notice of you?

    _Laza._ Your Lordship shall know that presently.

    _Count._ 'Tis pity of this fellow, he is of good wit, and
    sufficient understanding, when he is not troubled with this greedy
    worm.

    _Laza._ 'Faith, you may intreat him to take notice of me for
    any thing; for being an excellent Farrier, for playing well at
    Span-counter, or sticking knives in walls, for being impudent, or
    for nothing; why may not I be a Favorite on the suddain? I see
    nothing against it.

    _Count._ Not so Sir, I know you have not the face to be a Favourite
    on the suddain.

    _Laz._ Why then you shall present me as a Gentleman well qualified,
    or one extraordinary seen in divers strange mysteries.

    _Count._ In what Sir? as how?

    _Laz._ Marry as thus--

                        _Enter [I]ntelligencer._

    _Count._ Yonder's my old Spirit, that hath haunted me daily, ever
    since I was a privy Counsellor, I must be rid of him, I pray you
    stay there, I am a little busie, I will speak with you presently.

    _Laza._ You shall bring me in, and after a little other talk taking
    me by the hand, you shall utter these words to the Duke: May it
    please your grace, to take note of a Gentleman, well read, deeply
    learned, and throughly grounded in the hidden knowledge of all
    Sallads and Pot-herbs whatsoever.

    _Count._ 'Twill be rare, if you will walk before, Sir, I will
    overtake you instantly.

    _Laza._ Your Lordships ever.

    _Count._ This fellow is a kind of an informer, one that lives in
    Alehouses and Taverns, and because he perceives some worthy men in
    this Land, with much labour and great expence, to have discovered
    things dangerously hanging over the State; he thinks to discover
    as much out of the talk of drunkards in Tap-houses: he brings me
    informations, pick'd out of broken words, in mens common talk,
    which, with his malicious mis-application, he hopes will seem
    dangerous, he doth besides, bring me the names of all the young
    Gentlemen in the City, that use Ordinaries, or Taverns, talking
    (to my thinking) only as the freedom of their youth teach them,
    without any further ends; for dangerous and seditious spirits;
    he is besides, an arrant whoremaster, as any is in _Milan_, of a
    Lay-man; I will not meddle with the Clergy: he is parcel Lawyer,
    and in my conscience much of their religion, I must put upon him
    some piece of service; come hither Sir, what have you to do with me?

    _Int._ Little my Lord, I only come to know how your Lordship would
    employ me.

    _Count._ Observed you that Gentleman, that parted from me but now?

    _Int._ I saw him now my Lord.

    _Count._ I was sending for you, I have talked with this man, and I
    do find him dangerous.

    _Int._ Is your Lordship in good earnest?

    _Count._ Hark you Sir, there may perhaps be some within ear-[shot].
    [_He whispers with him._

                    _Enter_ Lazarello _and his Boy_.

    _Laz._ Sirrah, will you venture your life, the Duke hath sent the
    Fish-head to my Lord?

    _Boy._ Sir if he have not, kill me, do what you will with me.

    _Laz._ How uncertain is the state of all mortal things! I have
    these crosses from my Cradle, from my very Cradle, insomuch that
    I do begin to grow desperate: Fortune I do despise thee, do thy
    worst; yet when I do better gather my self together, I do find
    it is rather the part of a wise man, to prevent the storms of
    Fortune by stirring, than to suffer them by standing still, to pour
    themselves upon his naked body. I will about it.

    _Count._ Who's within there?

                         _Enter a Servingman._

    Let this Gentleman out at the back door, forget not my
    instructions, if you find any thing dangerous; trouble not
    your self to find out me, but carry your informations to the
    Lord _Lucio_, he is a man grave, and well experienced in these
    businesses.

    [_Int._ Your Lordships Servant.]            [_Exit Intelligencer and
    Servingman._

    _Laz._ Will it please your [worship walke]?

    _Count._ Sir I was coming, I will overtake you.

    _Laz._ I will attend you over against the Lord _Gonderinoes_ house.

    _Count._ You shall not attend there long.

    _Laz._ Thither must I to see my Loves face, the chaste
    Virgin head
    Of a dear Fish, yet pure and undeflowred,
    Not known of man no rough bred countrey hand,
    Hath once toucht thee, no Pandars withered paw,
    Nor an un-napkin'd Lawyers greasie fist,
    Hath once slubbered thee: no Ladies supple hand,
    Wash'd o'er with Urine, hath yet seiz'd on thee
    With her two nimble talents: no Court hand,
    Whom his own natural filth, or change of air,
    Hath bedeck'd with scabs, hath marr'd thy whiter grace:
    Oh let it be thought lawful then for me,
    To crop the flower of thy Virginity.              [_Exit_ Lazarello.

    _Count._ This day I am for fools, I am all theirs,
    Though like to our young wanton cocker'd heirs,
    Who do affect those men above the rest,
    In whose base company they still are best:
    I do not with much labour strive to be
    The wisest ever in the company:
    But for a fool, our wisdom oft amends,
    As enemies do teach us more than friends.             [_Exit Count._




_Actus Secundus. Scæna Prima._


                  _Enter Gondarino and his servants._

    _Serv._ My Lord:

    _Gond._ Ha!

    _Serv._ Here's one hath brought you a present.

    _Gond._ From whom? from a woman? if it be from a woman, bid him
    carrie it back, and tell her she's a whore; what is it?

    _Serv._ A Fish head my Lord.

    _Gond._ What Fish head?

    _Serv._ I did not aske that my Lord.

    _Gond._ Whence comes it?

    _Ser._ From the Court.

    _Gond._ O 'tis a Cods-head.

    _Serv._ No my Lord, 'tis some strange head, it comes from the Duke.

    _Gond._ Let it be carried to my Mercer, I doe owe him money for
    silks, stop his mouth with that.                       [_Exit Serv._

    Was there ever any man that hated his wife after death but I?
    and for her sake all women, women that were created only for the
    preservation of little dogs.

                            _Enter Servant._

    _Serv._ My Lord the Count's sister being overtaken in the streets,
    with a great hail-storm, is light at your gate, and desires [room]
    till the storm be overpast.

    _Gond._ Is she a woman?

    _Serv._ I my Lord I think so.

    _Gond._ I have none for her then: bid her get her gone, tell her
    she is not welcome.

    _Serv._ My Lord, she is now comming up.

    _Gond._ She shall not come up, tell her any thing; tell her I have
    but one great room in my house, and I am now in it at the close
    stool.

    _Serv._ She's here my Lord.

    _Gond._ O impudence of women: I can keep dogs out of my house, or I
    can defend my house against theeves, but I cannot keep out women.

             _Enter_ Oriana, _a waiting woman, and a Page_.

    Now Madam, what hath your Ladyship to say to me?

    _Oria._ My Lord, I was bold to crave the help of your house against
    the storm.

    _Gond._ Your Ladyships boldness in coming will be impudence in
    staying; for you are most unwelcome.

    _Oriana._ Oh my Lord!

    _Gond._ Doe you laugh? by the hate I bear to you, 'tis true.

    _Orian._ Y'are merry my Lord.

    _Gond._ Let me laugh to death if I be, or can be whilst thou art
    here, or livest; or any of thy sex.

    _Oriana._ I commend your Lordship.

    _Gond._ Doe you commend me? why doe you commend me? I give you no
    such cause: thou art a filthy impudent whore; a woman, a very woman.

    _Oria._ Ha, ha, ha.

    _Gond._ Begot when thy father was drunk.

    _Orian._ Your Lordship hath a good wit.

    _Gond._ How? what have I a good wit?

    _Orian._ Come my Lord, I have heard before of your Lordships merry
    vain in jesting against our Sex, which I being desirous to hear,
    made me rather choose your Lordships house, than any other, but I
    know I am welcome.

    _Gond._ Let me not live if you be: me thinks it doth not become
    you, to come to my house being a stranger to you, I have no woman
    in my house, to entertain you, nor to shew you your chamber; why
    should you come to me? I have no Galleries, nor banqueting houses,
    nor bawdy pictures to shew your Ladyship.

    _Orian._ Believe me this your Lordships plain[n]ess makes me think
    my self more welcome, than if you had sworn by all the pretty Court
    oaths that are, I had been welcomer than your soul to your body.

    _Gond._ Now she's in, talking treason will get her out, I durst
    sooner undertake to talk an Intelligencer out of the room, and
    speak more than he durst hear, than talk a woman out of my company.

                           _Enter a Servant._

    _Serv._ My Lord the Duke being in the streets, and the storm
    continuing, is entred your gate, and now coming up.

    _Gond._ The Duke! now I know your Errand Madam; you have plots and
    private meetings in hand: why doe you choose my house? are you
    asham'd to goe to't in the old coupling place, though it be less
    suspicious here; for no Christian will suspect a woman to be in
    my house? yet you may do it cleanlyer there, for there is a care
    had of those businesses; and wheresoever you remove, your great
    maintainer and you shall have your lodgings directly opposite, it
    is but putting on your night-gown, and your s[l]ippers; Madam, you
    understand me?

    _Orian._ Before I would not understand him, but now he speaks
    riddles to me indeed.

                  _Enter the Duke, Arrigo, and Lucio._

    _Duke._ 'Twas a strange hail-storm.

    _Lucio._ 'Twas exceeding strange.

    _Gond._ Good morrow to your grace.

    _Duke._ Good morrow _Gonderino_.

    _Gond._ Justice great Prince.

    _Duke._ Why should you beg for justice, I never did you wrong;
    What's the offendor?

    _Gond._ A woman.

    _Duke._ I know your ancient quarrell against that Sex; but what
    hainous crime hath she committed?

    _Gond._ She hath gone abroad.

    _Duke._ What? it cannot be.

    _Gond._ She hath done it.

    _Duke._ How? I never heard of any woman that did so before.

    _Gond._ If she have not laid by that modesty
    That should attend a Virgin, and, quite void
    Of shame, hath left the house where she was born,
    As they should never doe; let me endure
    The pains that she should suffer.

    _Duke._ Hath she so? Which is the woman?

    _Gond._ This, this.

    _Duke._ How! _Arrigo? Lucio?_

    _Gond._ I then it is a plot, no Prince alive
    Shall force me make my house a Brothell house;
    Not for the sins, but for the womans sake,
    I will not have her in my doors so long:
    Will they make my house as bawdy as their own are?

    _Duke._ Is it not _Oriana_?

    _Lucio._ 'Tis.

    _Duke._ Sister to Count _Valero_?

    _Arri._ The very same.

    _Duke._ She that I love?

    _Lucio._ She that you love.

    _Duke._ I do suspect.

    _Lucio._ So doe I.

    _Duke._ This fellow to be but a counterfeit,
    One that doth seem to loath all woman-kind,
    To hate himself, because he hath some part
    Of woman in him; seems not to endure
    To see, or to be seen of any woman,
    Only, because he knows it is their nature
    To wish to tast that which is most forbidden:
    And with this shew he may the better compass
    (And with far less suspition) his base ends.

    _Lucio._ Upon my life 'tis so.

    _Duke._ And I doe know,
    Before his slain wife gave him that offence,
    He was the greatest servant to that Sex
    That ever was: what doth this Lady here
    With him alone? why should he rail at her to me?

    _Lucio._ Because your grace might not suspect.

    _Duke._ 'Twas so: I doe love her strangely:
    I would fain know the truth: counsell me.     [_They three whisper._

                 _Enter Count, Lazarello, and his boy._

    _Count._ It falls out better than we could expect Sir, that we
    should find the Duke and my Lord _Gondarino_ together; both which
    you desire to be acquainted with.

    _Laz._ 'Twas very happy: Boy, goe down into the kitchen, and see if
    you can spy that same; I am now in some hope: I have me thinks a
    kind of fever upon me.                                  [_Exit Boy._

    A certain gloominess within me, doubting as it were, betwixt two
    passions: there is no young maid upon her wedding night, when
    her husband sets first foot in the bed, blushes, and looks pale
    again, oftner than I doe now. There is no Poet acquainted with
    more shakings and quakings, towards the latter end of [his] new
    play, when he's in that case, that he stands peeping betwixt [the]
    Curtains, so fearfully that a Bottle of Ale cannot be opened, but
    he thinks some body hisses, than I am at this instant.

    _Count._ Are they in consultation? If they be, either my young Duke
    hath gotten some Bastard, and is persuading my Knight yonder to
    father the child, and marry the wench, or else some Cock-pit is to
    be built.

    _Laz._ My Lord! what Nobleman's that?

    _Count._ His name is _Lucio_, 'tis he that was made a Lord at the
    request of some of his friends for his wives sake: he affects to
    be a great States-man, and thinks it consists in night-caps and
    jewells, and tooth-picks.

    _Laz._ And what's that other?

    _Count._ A Knight Sir, that pleaseth the Duke to favour, and to
    raise to some extraordinary fortunes, he can make as good men as
    himself, every day in the week, and doth--

    _Laz._ For what was he raised?

    _Count._ Truely Sir, I am not able to say directly, for what; But
    for wearing of red breeches as I take it; he's a brave man, he will
    spend three Knighthoods at a Supper without Trumpets.

    _Laza._ My Lord I'll talk with him, for I have a friend, that would
    gladly receive the humor.

    _Count._ If he have the itch of Knighthood upon him, let him repair
    to that Physitian, he'll cure him: but I will give you a note; is
    your friend fat or lean?

    _Laz._ Something fat.

    _Count._ 'Twill be the worse for him.

    _Laza._ I hope that's not material.

    _Count._ Very much, for there is an impost set upon Knighthoods, &
    your friend shall pay a Noble in the pound.

    _Duke._ I doe not like examinations,
    We shall find out the truth more easily,
    Some other way less noted, and that course,
    Should not be us'd, till we be sure to prove
    Some thing directly, for when they perceive
    Themselves suspected, they will then provide
    More warily to answer.

    _Luc._ Doth she know your Grace doth love her?

    _Duke._ She hath never heard it.

    _Luc._ Then thus my Lord.                            [_They whisper_

    _Laz._ What's he that walks                                 [_again_
    alone so sadly with his hands behind him?

    _Count._ The Lord of the house, he that you desire to be acquainted
    with, he doth hate women for the same cause that I love them.

    _Laz._ What's that?

    _Count._ For that which Apes want: you perceive me Sir?

    _Laz._ And is he sad? Can he be sad that hath so rich a gem under
    his roof, as that which I doe follow. What young Lady's that?

    _Count._ Which? Have I mine eye-sight perfect, 'tis my sister:
    did I say the Duke had a Bastard? What should she make here with
    him and his Councell? She hath no papers in her hand to petition
    to them, she hath never a husband in prison, whose release she
    might sue for: That's a fine trick for a wench; to get her husband
    clapt up, that she may more freely, and with less suspition, visit
    the private studies of men in authority. Now I doe discover their
    consultation, yon fellow is a Pander without all salvation: But let
    me not condemn her too rashly without weighing the matter; she's a
    young Lady, she went forth early this morning with a waiting woman,
    and a Page, or so: This is no garden house; in my conscience she
    went forth with no dishonest intent: for she did not pretend going
    to any Sermon in the further end of the City: Neither went she
    to see any odd old Gentlewoman, that mourns for the death of her
    husband, or the loss of her friend, and must have young Ladys come
    to comfort her: those are the damnable Bawds: 'Twas no set meeting
    certainly; for there was no wafer-woman with her these three days
    on my knowledge: I'll talk with her; Good morrow my Lord.

    _Gond._ Y'are welcome Sir: here's her brother come now to doe a
    kind office for his sister; is it not strange?

    _Count._ I am glad to meet you here sister.

    _Orian._ I thank you good brother: and if you doubt of the cause of
    my coming I can satisfie you.

    _Count._ No faith, I dare trust thee, I doe suspect thou art
    honest; for it is so rare a thing to be honest amongst you, that
    some one man in an age, may perhaps suspect some two women to be
    honest, but never believe it verily.

    _Luci._ Let your return be suddain.

    _Arri._ U[n]suspected by them.

    _Duke._ It shall; so shall I best perceive their Love, if there be
    any; Farewell.

    _Count._ Let me entreat your grace to stay a little,
    To know a gentleman, to whom your self
    Is much beholding; he hath made the sport
    For your whole Court these eight years, on my knowledge.

    _Duke._ His name?

    _Count. Lazarello._

    _Duke._ I heard of him this morning, which is he?

    _Count. Lazarello_, pluck up thy spirits, thy [Fortuns are] now
    raising, the Duke calls for thee, and thou shalt be acquainted with
    him.

    _Laz._ He's going away, and I must of necessity stay here upon
    business.

    _Count._ 'Tis all one, thou shalt know him first.

    _Laz._ Stay a little, if he should offer to take me away with him,
    and by that means I should loose that I seek for; but if he should
    I will not goe with him.

    _Count. Lazarello_, the Duke stayes, wilt thou lose this
    opportunity?

    _Laz._ How must I speak to him?

    _Count._ 'Twas well thought of: you must not talk to him as you doe
    to an ordinary man, honest plain sence, but you must wind about
    him: for example, if he should aske you what a clock it is, you
    must not say; If it please your grace 'tis nine; but thus; thrice
    three a clock, so please my Sovereign: or thus;

    Look how many Muses there doth dwell
    Upon the sweet banks of the learned Well;
    And just so many stroaks the clock hath struck,
    And so forth; And you must now and then enter into a description.

    _Laz._ I hope I shall doe it.

    _Count._ Come: May it please your grace to take note of a
    Gentleman, wel seen, deeply read, and throughly grounded in the
    hidden knowledge of all sallets and potherbs whatsoever.

    _Duke._ I shall desire to know him more inwardly.

    _Laz._ I kiss the Oxe-hide of your graces foot.

    _Count._ Very well: will your grace question him a little?

    _Duke._ How old are you?

    _Laz._ Full eight and twenty several Almanacks
    Have been compiled, all for several years
    Since first I drew this breath, four prentiships
    Have I most truely served in this world:
    And eight and twenty times hath _Phœbus_ Car
    Run out his yearly course since.

    _Duke._ I understand you Sir.

    _Luci._ How like an ignorant Poet he talks.

    _Duke._ You are eight and twenty year[e] old? what time of the day
    doe you hold it to be?

    _Laz._ About the time that mortals whet their knives
    On thresholds, on their shooe sol[e]s, and on stairs,
    New bread is grating, and the testy Cook
    Hath much to doe now, now the Tables all.

    _Duk._ 'Tis almost dinner time?

    _Laz._ Your grace doth apprehend me very rightly.

    _Count._ Your grace shall find him in your further conference
    Grave, wise, courtly, and scholar like, understandingly read
    In the necessities of the life of man.
    He knows that man is mortal by his birth;
    He knows that man must dye, and therefore live;
    He knows that [man] must live, and therefore eat,

    And if it shall please your grace, to accompany your self with
    him, I doubt not, but that he will, at the least, make good my
    commendations.

    _Duk._ Attend us _Lazarello_, we doe want
    Men of such Action, as we have received you
    Reported from your honorable friend.

    _Laza._ Good my Lord stand betwixt me and my overthrow, you know
    I'm ti'd here, and may not depart, my gracious Lord, so waightie
    are the businesses of mine own, which at this time do call upon me,
    that I will rather chuse to die, than to neglect them.

    _Count._ Nay you shall [well] perceive, besides the virtues that I
    have alreadie inform'd you of, he hath a stomach which will stoop
    to no Prince alive.

    _Duk._ Sir at your best leisure, I shall thirst to see you.

    _Laza._ And I shall hunger for it.

    _Duk._ Till then farewell all.

    _Gon. Count._ Long life attend your Grace.

    _Duk._ I doe not tast this sport, _Arrigo, Lucio._

    _Arrigo. Luci._ We doe attend.        [_Exeunt Duke, Arrigo, Lucio._

    _Gond._ His grace is gone, and hath left his _Hellen_ with me, I'm
    no pander for him, neither can I be won with the hope of gain, or
    the itching desire of tasting my Lords lecherie to him, to keep her
    at (my house) or bring her in disguise, to his bed Chamber.

    The twyns of Adders, and of Scorpions
    About my naked brest, will seem to me
    More tickling than those claspes, which men adore;
    The lustfull, dull, ill spirited embraces
    Of women; The much praysed _Amazones_,
    Knowing their own infirmities so well,
    Made of themselves a people, and what men
    They take amongst them, they condemne to die,
    Perceiving that their folly made them fit
    To live no longer that would willingly
    Come in the worthless presence of a woman.
    I will attend, and see what my young Lord will doe with his sister.

                        _Enter Lazarilloes Boy._

    _Boy._ My Lord; The fish head is gone again.

    _Count._ W[h]ither?

    _Boy._ I know whither my Lord.

    _Count._ Keep it from _Lazarillo_: Sister shall I confer with you
    in private, to know the cause of the Dukes coming hither, I know he
    makes you acquainted with his business of State.

    _Oria._ I'll satisfie you brother, for I see you are jealous of me.

    _Gond._ Now there shall be some course taken for her conveiance.

    _Laza. Lazarillo_, thou art happy, thy carriage hath begot love,
    and that love hath brought forth fruits; thou art here in the
    company of a man honorable, that will help thee to tast of the
    bounties of the Sea, and when thou hast so done thou shalt retire
    thy self unto the court, and there tast of the delicates of the
    earth, and be great in the eyes of thy Soveraign: now no more shalt
    thou need to scramble for thy meat, nor remove thy stomach with
    the Court; But thy credit shall command thy hearts desire, and all
    novelties shall be sent as presents unto thee.

    _Count._ Good Sister, when you see your own time, wil[l] you return
    home.

    _Oria._ Yes brother, and not before.

    _Laza._ I will grow popular in this State, and overthrow the
    fortunes of a number, that live by extortion.

    _Count. Lazarello_, bestirr thy self nimbly and sodainly, and
    hear me with patience [to hear].

    _Laza._ Let me not fall from my self; Speak I'm bound.

    _Count._ So art thou to revenge, when thou shalt hear the fish head
    is gone, and we know not whither.

    _Laza._ I will not curse, nor swear, nor rage, nor rail,
    Nor with contemptuous tongue, accuse my Fate;
    Though I might justly doe it, nor will I
    Wish my self uncreated for this evil:
    Shall I entreat your Lordship to be seen
    A little longer in the company
    Of a man cross'd by Fortune?

    _Count._ I hate to leave my friend in his extremities.

    _Laza._ 'Tis noble in you, then I take your hand,
    And doe protest, I doe not follow this
    For any malice or for private ends,
    But with a love, as gentle and as chast,
    As that a brother to his sister bears:
    And if I see this fish head yet unknown;
    The last words that my dying father spake,
    Before his eye strings brake, shall not of me
    So often be remembred, as our meeting:
    Fortune attend me, as my ends are just,
    Full of pure love, and free from servile lust.

    _Count._ Farwell my Lord, I was entreated to invite your Lordship
    to a Lady's upsiting.

    _Gond._ O my ears, why Madam, will not you follow your brother? you
    are waited for by great men, heel bring you to him.

    _Oria._ I'm very well my Lord, you doe mistake me, if you think I
    affect greater company than your self.

    _Gond._ What madness possesseth thee, that thou canst imagine me a
    fit man to entertain [Ladies]; I tell thee, I doe use to tear their
    hair, to kick them, and [to] twindge their noses, if they be not
    carefull in avoiding me.

    _Oria._ Your Lordship may discant upon your own behavior as please
    you, but I protest, so sweet and courtly it appeares in my eye,
    that I mean not to leave you yet.

    _[Go]nd._ I shall grow rough.

    _Oria._ A rough carriage is best in a man,
    I'll dine with you my Lord.

    _Gond._ Why I will starve thee, thou shalt have nothing.

    _Oria._ I have heard of your Lordships nothing, I'll put that to
    the venture.

    _Gond._ Well thou shalt have meat, I'll send it to thee.

    _Oria._ I'll keep no state my Lord, neither doe I mourn, I'll dine
    with you.

    _Gond._ Is such a thin[g] as this allowed to live?
    What power hath let the[e] loose upon the earth
    To plague us for our Sins? Out of my doors.

    _Oria._ I would your Lordship did but see how well
    This fury doth become you, it doth shew
    So neer the life, as it were natural.

    _Gond._ O thou damn'd woman, I will flie the vengeance
    That hangs above thee, follow if thou dar'st.     [_Exit Gondarino._

    _Oria._ I must not leave this fellow, I will torment him to madness,
    To teach his passions against kind to move,
    The more he hates, the more I'll seem to love.

                                              [_Exeunt Oriana and Maid._

                  _Enter Pandar and Mercer a citizen._

    _Pand._ Sir, what may be done by art shall be done, I wear no[t]
    this black cloak for nothing.

    _Mer._ Perform this, help me to this great heir by learning, and
    you shall want no black cloaks; taffaties, silkgrogra[m]s, sattins
    and velvets are mine, they shall be yours; perform what you have
    promis'd, and you shall make me a lover of Sciences, I will study
    the learned languages, and keep my shop-book in Latine.

    _Pand._ Trouble me not now, I will not fail you within this hour at
    your shop.

    _Mer._ Let Art have her course.                      [_Exit Mercer._

                           _Enter Curtezan._

    _Pand._ 'Tis well spoken, _Madona_.

    _Mad._ Hast thou brought me any customers.

    _Pan._ No.

    _Ma._ What the devil do'st thou in black?

    _Pa._ As all solemn professors of setled courses, doe cover my
    knavery with it: will you marry a citizen; Reasonably rich, and
    unreasonably foolish, silks in his shop, mony in his purse, and no
    wit in his head?

    _Ma._ Out upon him, I could have [bin] otherwise than so, there was
    a Knight swore he would have had me, if I would have lent him but
    forty shillings to have redeem'd his cloak, to goe to Church in.

    _Pan._ Then your wastcote wayter shall have him, call her in!

    _Ma. Francessina!_

    _Fr._ Anon!

    _Ma._ Get you to the Church, and shrive your self,
    For you shall be richly marryed anon.

    _Pan._ And get you after her, I will work upon my citizen whilst
    he is warm, I must not suffer him to consult with his neighbours,
    the openest fools are hardly cousened, if they once grow jealous.
    [_Exeunt._




_Actus Tertius. Scæna Prima._


                   _Enter Gondarino flying the Lady._

    _Gond._ Save me ye better powers, let me not fall
    Between the lo[o]se embracements of a woman:
    Heaven, if my Sins be ripe grown to a head,
    And must attend your vengeance: I beg not to divert my fate,
    Or to reprive a while thy punishment
    Only I crave, and hear me equall heavens,
    Let not your furious rod, that must afflict me
    Be that imperfect peece of nature,
    That art makes up, woman, unsatiate woman.
    Had we not knowing souls, at first infus'd
    To teach a difference, 'twixt extremes and goods?
    Were we not made our selves, free, unconfin'd
    Commanders of our own affections?
    And can it be, that this most perfect creature,
    This image of his maker, well squar'd man,
    Should leave the handfast, that he had of grace,
    To fall into a womans easie armes.

                            _Enter Oriana._

    _Orian._ Now _Venus_, be my speed, inspire me with all the severall
    subtil temptations, that thou hast already given, or hast in store
    heareafter to bestow upon our Sex: grant that I may apply that
    Physick that is most apt to work upon him: whether he will soonest
    be mov'd with wantonness, singing, dancing; or being passionate,
    with scorn; or with sad and serious looks, cunningly mingled with
    sighs, with smiling, lisping, kissing the hand, and making short
    curt'sies, Or with whatsoever other nimble power, he may be caught,
    doe thou infuse into me, and when I have him, I will sacrifice him
    up to thee.

    _Gond._ It comes again; New apparitions,
    And tempting spirits: Stand and reveal thy self,
    Tell why thou followest me! I fear thee
    As I fear the place thou cam'st from: Hell.

    _Orian._ My Lord, I 'm a woman, and such a one--

    _Gond._ That I hate truely, thou hadst better bin a devill.

    _Orian._ Why my unpatient Lord?

    _Gond._ Devils were once good, there they excell'd you wom[e]n.

    _Orian._ Can ye be so uneasie, can ye freeze, and
    Such a summers heat so ready
    To dissolve? nay gentle Lord, turn not away in scorn,
    Nor hold me less fair than I am: look on these cheeks,
    They have yet enough of nature, true complexion,
    If to be red and white, a forehead high,
    An easie melting lip, a speaking eye,
    And such a tongue, whose language takes the ear
    Of strict religion, and men most austere:
    If these may hope to please, look here.

    _Gond._ This woman with entreaty wo'd show all,
    Lady there lies your way, I pray ye farewell.

    _Orian._ Y'are yet too harsh, too dissonant,
    There's no true musick in your words, my Lord.

    _Gond._ What shall I give thee to be gone?

    Here's ta, and tha wants lodging, take my house, 'tis big enough,
    'tis thine own, 'twill hold five leacherous Lords, and their
    lackies without discovery: there's stoves and bathing tubs.

    _Orian._ Dear Lord: y'are too wild.

    _Gond._ Shalt have a Doctor too, thou shalt, 'bout six and twentie,
    'tis a pleasing age; Or I can help thee to a handsome Usher: or if
    thou lack'st a page, I'll give thee one, preethee keep house, and
    leave me.

    _Oria._ I doe confess I'm too easie, too much woman,
    Not coy enough to take affection,
    Yet I can frown and nip a passion,
    Even in the bud: I can say
    Men please their present heats; Then please to leave us.
    I can hold off, and, by my Chymick power,
    Draw Sonnets from the melting lovers brain;
    _Ayme's_, and _Elegies_: yet to you my Lord
    My Love, my better self, I put these off,
    Doing that office, not befits our sex,
    Entreat a man to love;
    Are ye not yet relenting? ha'ye blood and Spirit
    In those veins? ye are no image, though ye be as hard
    As marble: sure ye have no liver, if ye had,
    'Twould send a lively and desiring heat
    To every member; Is not this miserable?
    A thing so truely form'd, shapt out by Symetry,
    Has all the organs that belong to man,
    And working too, yet to shew all these
    Like dead motions moving upon wyers?
    Then good my Lord, leave off what you have been,
    And freely be what you were first intended for, a man.

    _Gond._ Thou art a precious peece of slie damnation,
    I will be deaf, I will lock up my ears,
    Tempt me not, I will not love; If I doe.

    _Oria._ Then I'll hate you.

    _Gond._ Let me be 'nointed with hony, and turn'd into the Sun,
    To be stung to death with horse-flies,
    Hear'st thou, thou breeder, here I'll sit,
    And, in despight of thee, I will say nothing.

    _Oria._ Let me with your fair patience, sit beside you.

    _Gond._ Madam, Lady, tempter, tongue, woman, ayr.
    Look to me, I shall kick; I say again,
    Look to me I shall kick.

    _Oria._ I cannot think your better knowledg[e] can use a woman so
    uncivilly.

    _Gond._ I cannot think, I shall become a coxcombe,
    To ha'my hair curl'd, by an idle finger,
    My cheeks turn Tabers, and be plaid upon,
    Mine eyes lookt babies in, and my nose blowd to my hand,
    I say again I shall kick, sure I shall.

    _Oria._ 'Tis but your outside that you shew, I know your mind
    Never was guilty of so great a weakness,
    Or could the to[n]gues of all men joyn'd together.
    Possess me with a thought of your dislike
    My weakness were above a womans, to fall off
    From my affection, for one crack of thunder,
    O wo'd you could love, my Lord.

    _Gond._ I wo'd thou wouldst sit still, and say nothing: what
    mad-man let thee lo[o]se to do more mischief than a dousen
    whirlwinds, keep thy hands in thy muff, and warm the idle worms in
    thy fingers ends: will ye be doing still? will no entreating serve
    ye? no lawfull warning? I must remove and leave your Ladyship; Nay
    never hope to stay me, for I will run, from that Smooth, Smiling,
    Witching, Cousening, Tempting, Damning face of thine, as far as I
    can find any land, where I will put my self into a daily course of
    Curses for thee, and all thy Familie.

    _Oria._ Nay good my Lord sit still, I'll promise peace
    And fold mine Armes up, let but mine eye discourse;
    Or let my voyce, set to some pleasing cord, sound out
    The sullen strains of my neglected love.

    _Gond._ Sing till thou crack thy treble-string in peeces,
    And when thou hast done, put up thy pipes and walk,
    Doe any thing, sit still and tempt me not.

    _Oria._ I had rather sing at doors for bread, than sing to this
    fellow, but for hate: if this should be told in the Court, that I
    begin to woe Lords, what a troop of the untrust nobilitie should I
    have at my lodging to morrow morning.

                      SONG.

    _Come sleep, and with th[y] sweet deceiving,_
    _Lock me in delight a while,_
    _Let some pleasing Dreams beguile_
    _All my fancies; That from thence,_
    _I may feel an influence,_
    _All my powers of care bereaving._
    _Though but a shadow, but a sliding,_
    _Let me know some little Joy,_
    _We that suffer long anoy_
    _Are contented with a thought_
    _Through an idle fancie wrought_
    _O let my joyes, have some abiding._

    _Gond._ Have you done your wassayl? 'tis a handsome drowsie dittie
    I'll assure ye, now I had as leave hear a Cat cry, when her tail
    is cut off, as hear these lamentations, these lowsie love-layes,
    these bewailements: you think you have caught me Lady, you think I
    melt now, like a dish of May butter, and run, all into brine, and
    passion, yes, yes, I 'm taken, look how I cross my arms, look pale,
    and dwyndle, and wo'd cry, but for spoyling my face; we must part,
    nay we'll avoyd all Ceremony, no kissing Lady, I desire to know
    your Ladiship no more; death of my soul the Duke!

    _Oria._ God keep your Lordship.

    _Gond._ From thee and all thy sex.

    _Oria._ I'll be the Clark, and crie, _Amen_,
    Your Lordships ever assured enemie _Oriana_.

                                       [_Exit. Oriana, Manet Gondarino._


_Actius Tertius. Scæna Secunda._

                      _Enter Duke, Arrigo, Lucia._

    _Gond._ All the days good, attend your Lordship.

    _Duk._ We thank you _Gondarino_, is it possible?
    Can belief lay hold on such a miracle,
    To see thee, one that hath cloyst'red up all passion,
    Turn'd wilfull votary, and forsworn converse with women, in
    company and fair discourse, with the best beauty of _Millain_?

    _Gon._ 'Tis true, and if your Grace that hath the sway
    Of the whole State, will suffer this lude sex,
    These women, to pursue us to our homes,
    Not to be prayd, no[r] to be rail'd away,
    But they will woe, and dance, and sing,
    And, in a manner, looser than they are
    By nature (which should seem impossible)
    To throw their armes, on our unwilling necks.

    _Duk._ No more, I can see through your vissore, dissemble it no more.
    Doe not I know thou hast us'd all Art,
    To work upon the poor simplicitie
    Of this yong Maid, that yet hath known none ill?
    Thinkest that damnation will fright those that wooe
    From oaths, and lies? But yet I think her chast,
    And will from thee, before thou shalt apply
    Stronger temptations, bear her hence with me.

    _Gond._ My Lord, I speak not this to gain new grace,
    But howsoever you esteeme my words,
    My love and dutie will not suffer me
    To see you favour such a prostitute,
    And I stand by dumb; Without Rack, Torture,
    Or Strappado, I[le] unrip my self:

    I doe confess I was in company with that pleasing peece of
    frailtie, that we call woman; I doe confess after a long and
    tedious seige, I yielded.

    _Duke._ Forward.

    _Gond._ Faith my Lord to come quickly to the point, the woman you
    saw with me is a whore; An arrant whore.

    _Duke._ Was she not Count _Valores_ Sister?

    _Gond._ Yes, that Count _Valores_ Sister is naught.

    _Duk._ Thou dar'st not say so.

    _Gond._ Not if it be distasting to your Lordship, but give me
    freedome, and I dare maintain, she ha's imbrac'd this body, and
    grown to it as close, as the hot youthfull vine to the elme.

    _Duk._ Twice have I seen her with thee, twice my thoughts were
    prompted by mine eye, to hold thy strictness false and imposterous:
    Is this your mewing up, your strict retirement, your bitterness
    and gaul against that sex? Have I not heard thee say, thou wouldst
    sooner meet the _Basilisks_ dead doing eye, than meet a woman for
    an object? Look it be true you tell me, or by our countries Saint
    your head goes off: if thou prove a whore, no womans face shall
    ever move me more.                       [_Exeunt. Manet Gondarino._

    _Gond._ So, so, 'tis as 't should be, are women grown so mankind?
    Must they be wooing, I have a plot shall blow her up, she flyes,
    she mounts; I'll teach her Ladyship to dare my fury, I will be
    known, and fear'd, and more truely hated of women than an Eunuch.

                            _Enter Oriana._

    She's here again, good gaul be patient, for I must dissemble.

    _Orian._ Now my cold, frosty Lord, my woman-Hater, you that have
    sworn an everlasting hate to all our sex: by my troth good Lord,
    and as I'm yet a maid, my thought 'twas excellent sport to hear
    your honor swear out an Alphabet, chafe nobly like a Generall, kick
    like a resty Jade, and make ill faces: Did your good Honor think I
    was in love? where did I first begin to take that heat? From those
    two radiant eyes, that piercing sight? oh they were lovely, if the
    balls stood right; and there's a leg made out of a dainty staff.
    Where, the Gods be thanked, there is calf enough.

    _Gond._ Pardon him Lady, that is now a convert[ite].
    Your beauty, like a Saint hath wrought this wonder.

    _Oriana._ Alass, ha's it been prick'd at the heart? is the stomach
    come down? will it rail no more at women, and call 'em Divells, she
    Cats, and Goblins?

    _Gond._ He that shall marry thee, had better spend the poor
    remainder of his days in a dung-barge, for two pence a week, and
    find him self.

    Down again Spleen, I prethee down again, shall I find favour Lady?
    shall at length my true unfeigned penitence get pardon for my harsh
    unseasoned follies? I'm no more an Atheist, no I doe acknowledge,
    that dread powerfull Deity, and his all quic'kning heats burn in
    my breast: oh be not as I was, hard unrelenting; but as I [am], be
    partner of my fires.

    _Oria._ Sure we [shall] have store of Larks, the Skies will not
    hold up long, I should have look'd as soon for Frost in the dog
    days, or another Inundation, as hop'd this strange conversion above
    miracle: let me look upon your Lordship; is your name _Gondarino_?
    are you _Millains_ Generall, that great Bugbear bloody-bones, at
    whose name all women, from the Lady to the Landress, shake like a
    cold fit?

    _Gond._ Good patience help me, this Fever will inrage my blood
    again: Madam I'm that man; I'm even he that once did owe
    unreconcil'd hate to you, and all that bear the name of woman: I'm
    the man that wrong'd your Honor to the Duke: [I am hee] that said
    you were unchast, and prostitute, yet I'm he that dare deny all
    this.

    _Orian._ Your big Nobility is very merry.

    _Gond._ Lady 'tis true that I have wrong'd you thus,
    And my contritio[n] is as true as that,
    Yet have I found a means to make all good again,
    I doe beseech your beautie, not for my self,
    My merits are yet in conception,
    But for your honors safety and my zeal
    Retire a while, while I unsay my self unto the Duke,
    And cast out that [evill] Spirit I have possest him with,
    I have a house conveniently private.

    _Ori._ Lord, thou hast wrong'd my innocence, but thy confession
    hath gain'd thee faith.

    _Gond._ By the true honest service, that I owe th[o]se eyes
    My meaning is as spotless as my faith.

    _Oria._ The Duke doubt mine honor? a may judge [strangely,]
    'Twill not be long, before I'll be enlarg'd again.

    _Gond._ A day or two.

    _Orian._ Mine own servants shall attend me.

    _Gond._ Your Ladyships command is good.

    _Orian._ Look you be true.                           [_Exit Oriana._

    _Gond._ Else let me lose the hopes my soul aspires to: I will be
    a scourge to all females in my life, and after my death, the name
    of _Gondarino_ shall be terrible to the mighty women of the earth;
    They shall shake at my name, and at the sound of it, their knees
    shall knock together; And they shall run into Nunneries, for they
    and I are beyond all hope irreconcilable: for if I could endure an
    ear with a hole in't, or a pleated lock, or a bare headed Coachman,
    that sits like a sign where great Lad[ie]s are to be sold within;
    agreement betwixt us, were not to be dispaired of; if I could be
    but brought to endure to see women, I would have them come all once
    a week, and kiss me, [where] Witches doe the devill, in token of
    homage: I must not live here; I will to the Court, and there pursue
    my plot; when it hath took, women shall stand in awe, but of my
    look.                                                       [_Exit._


_Actus Tertius. Scæna Tertia._

         _Enter two Intelligencers, discovering treason in the_
                           _Courtiers words._

    _1 Intel._ There take your standing, be close and vigilant, here
    will I set my self, and let him look to his language, a shall know
    the Duke has more ears in Court than two.

    _2 Int._ I'll quote him to a tittle, let him speak wisely, and
    plainly, and as hidden as a can, or I shall crush him, a shall not
    scape charracters, though a speak Babel, I shall crush him: we have
    a Fortune by this service hanging over us, that within this year
    or two, I hope we shall be called to be examiners, wear politick
    gowns garded with copper lace, making great faces full of fear and
    office, our labors may deserve this.

    _1 Int._ I hope it shall: why has not many men been raised from
    this worming trade, first to gain good access to great men, then to
    have commissions out for search, and lastly, to be worthily nam'd
    at a great Arraignment: yes, and why not we? They that endeavor
    well deserve their Fee. Close, close, a comes: mark well, and all
    goes well.

                 _Enter Count, Lazarello, and his Boy._

    _Laz._ Farewell my hopes, my Anchor now is broken,
    Farewell my _quondam_ joys, of which no token
    Is now remaining, such is the sad mischance,
    Where Lady Fortune leads the slipp'ry dance.
    Yet at the length, let me this favour have,
    Give me my wishes, or a wished grave.

    _Count._ The gods defend so brave and valiant maw,
    Should slip into the never satiate jaw
    Of black Despair; no, thou shalt live and know
    Thy full desires, hunger thy ancient foe,
    Shall be subdued; those guts that daily tumble
    Through ayr and appetite, shall cease to rumble:
    And thou shalt now at length obtain thy dish,
    That noble part, the sweet head of a fish.

    _Laz._ Then am I greater than the Duke.

    _2 Int._ There, there's a notable peece of treason, greater than
    the Duke, mark that.

    _Count._ But how, or where, or when this shall be compas'd, is yet
    out of my reach.

    _Laz._ I am so truely miserable, that might
    I be now knockt oth' head, with all my heart
    I would forgive a dog-killer.

    _Count._ Yet doe I see through this confusedness some little com[f]ort.

    _Laz._ The plot my Lord, as er'e you came of a woman, discover.

    _1 Int._ Plots, dangerous plots, I will deserve by this most liberally.

    _Count._ 'Tis from my head again.

    _Laz._ O that it would stand me, that I might fight, or have
    some venture for it, that I might be turn'd loose, to try my
    fortune amongst the whole frie in a Colledge, or an Inn of
    Court; or scramble with the prisoners in the dungeon; nay
    were it set down in the [owter] court,
    And all the Guard about it in a ring,
    With their knives drawn, which were a dismall sight,
    And after twenty leisurely were told,
    I to be let loose only in my shirt,
    To trie the valour, how much of the spoyl,
    I would recover from the enemies mouths:
    [I would accept the challenge.

    _Count._ Let it go: hast not thou beene held
    To have some wit in the Court, and to make fine jests]
    Upon country people in progress time, and
    Wilt thou lose this opinion, for the cold head of a Fish?
    I say, let it goe: I'll help thee to as good a dish of meat.

    _Laz._ God let me not live, if I doe not wonder,
    Men should talk so profanely:
    But it is not in the power of loose words,
    Of any vain or misbeleeving man,
    To make me dare to wrong thy purity.
    Shew me but any Lady in the Court,
    That hath so full an eye, so sweet a breath,
    So soft and white a flesh: this doth not lie
    In almond gloves, nor ever hath bin washt
    In artificiall baths: no traveller
    That hath brought doctor home with him, hath dar'd
    With all his waters, powders, Fucusses,
    To make thy lovely corps sophisticate.

    _Count._ I have it, 'tis now infus'd, be comforted.

    _Laz._ Can there be that little hope yet left in nature? shall I
    once more erect up Trophies? Shall I enjoy the sight of my dear
    Saint, and bless my pallate with the best of creatures, ah good my
    Lord, by whom I breathe again, shall I receive this Being?

    _Count._ Sir I have found by certain calculation, and setled
    revolution of the stars, the Fish is sent by the Lord _Gondarino_
    to his Mercer, now 'tis a growing hope to know where 'tis.

    _Laz._ O 'tis far above the good of women, the _Pathick_ cannot
    yield more pleasing titilation.

    _Count._ But how to compass it, search, cast about, and bang your
    brai[n]s, _Lazarello_, thou art too dull and heavy to deserve a
    blessing.

    _Laz._ My Lord, I will not be idle; now _Lazarello_, think, think,
    think.

    _Count._ Yonder's my informer
    And his fellow with table books, they nod at me
    Upon my life, they have poor _Lazarello_, that beats
    His brains about no such waighty matter, in for
    Treason before this--

    _Laz._ My Lord, what doe you think, if I should shave my self,
    Put on midwives apparell, come in with a hand-kercher,
    And beg a piece for a great bellied woman, or a sick child?

    _Count._ Good, very good.

    _Laz._ Or corrupt the waiting prentise to betray the reversion.

    _1 Inte._ There's another point in's plot, [corrupt] with money; to
    betray: sure 'tis some Fort a means: mark, have a care.

    _Laz._ And 'twere the bare vinegar 'tis eaten with, it would in
    some sort satisfie nature: but might I once attain the dish it
    self, though I cut out my means through sword[s] and fire, through
    poison, through any thing that may make good my hopes.

    _2 Int._ Thanks to the gods, and our officiousness, the plots
    discover'd, fire, steel, and poison, burn the Palace, kill the Duke
    and poison his privie Councell.

    _Count._ To the mercers, let me see: how, if before we can attain
    the means, to make up our acquaintance, the fish be eaten?

    _Laz._ If it be eaten, here he stands, that is the most dejected,
    most unfortunate, miserable, accursed, forsaken slave this Province
    yields: I will not sure outlive it, no I will dye bravely, and like
    a Roman; and after death, amidst the Elizian shades, I'll meet my
    love again.

    _1 In._ I will dye bravely, like a Roman: have a care, mark that,
    when he hath done all, he will kill himself.

    _Count._ Will nothing ease your appetite but this?

    _Laz._ No could the Sea throw up his vastness,
    And offer free his best inhabitants: 'twere not so much as
    a bare temptation to me.

    _Count._ If you could be drawn to affect Beef, Venison,
    or Fowl, 'twould be far the better.

    _Laza._ I doe beseech your Lordships patience,
    I doe confess that in this heat of blood,
    I have contemn'd all dull and grosser meats,
    But I protest I doe honor a Chine of Beef,
    I doe reverence a loyn of Veal,
    But good my Lord, give me leave a little to adore this:
    But my good Lord, would your Lordship, under color of
    taking up some silks, goe to the Mercers, I would in all
    humilitie attend your honor, where we may be invited, if
    Fortune stand propitious.

    _Count._ Sir you shall work me as you please.

    _Laza._ Let it be suddenly, I doe beseech your Lordship, 'tis now
    upon the point of dinner time.

    _Count._ I am all yours.              [_Exeunt Lazarello and Count._

    _1 In._ Come let us confer, Imprimis he saith, like a blasphemous
    villain, he's greater than the Duke, this peppers him, and there
    were nothing else.

    _2 In._ Then he was naming plots; did you not hear?

    _1 In._ Yes but he fell from that unto discovery, to corrupt by
    money, and so attain.

    _2 In._ I, I, he meant some Fort, or Cyttadell the Duke hath, his
    very face betraid his meaning, O he is [a] very subtile and a
    dangerous knave, but if he deal a Gods name, we shall worm him.

    _1 In._ But now comes the Stroak, the fatall blow, Fire, Sword and
    Poyson, O Canibal, thou bloody Canibal.

    _2 In._ What had become of this poor state, had [not we] been?

    _1 In._ Faith it had lyen buried in his own ashes; had not a
    greater hand been in't.

    _2 In._ But note the rascalls resolution, after th'acts done,
    because he wo'd avoid all fear of torture, and cousen the Law, he
    wo'd kill himself; was there ever the like danger brought to light
    in this age? sure we shall merit much, we shall be able to keep
    two men a peece, and a two handsword between us, we will live in
    favour of the State, betray our ten or twelve treasons a week, and
    the people shall fear us: come, to the Lord _Lucio_, the Sun shall
    not goe down till he be hang'd.                           [_Exeunt._


_Actus Tertius. Scæna Quarta._

                            _Enter Mercer._

    _Mer._ Look to my shop, and if there come ever a Scholar in black,
    let him speak with me; we that are shopkeepers in good trade, are
    so pester'd, that we can scarce pick out an hour for our mornings
    meditation: and howsoever we are all accounted dull, and common
    jesting stocks for your gallants; There are some of us doe not
    deserve it: for, for my own part, I doe begin to be given to my
    book, I love a scholar with my heart, for questionless there are
    merveilous things to be done by Art: why Sir, some of them will
    tell you what is become of horses, and silver spoons, and will make
    wenches dance naked to their beds: I am yet unmarried, and because
    some of our neighbours are said to be Cuckolds, I will never
    [marrie] without the consent of some of these scholars, that know
    what will come of it.

                            _Enter Pander._

    _Pan._ Are you busie Sir?

    _Mer._ Never to you Sir, nor to any of your coat. Sir is there any
    thing to be done by Art, concerning the great heir we talk'd on?

    _Pan._ Will she, nill she: she shall come running into my house at
    the farther corner, in Sa. Marks street, betwixt three and four.

    _Mer._ Betwixt three and four? she's brave in cloaths, is she not?

    _Pan._ O rich! rich! where should I get cloaths to dress her in?
    Help me invention: Sir, that her running through the street may
    be less noted, my Art more shown, and your fear to speak with her
    less, she shall come in a white wastcoat, And--

    _Mer._ What shall she?

    _Pan._ And perhaps torn stockings, she hath left her old wont else.

                           _Enter Prentice._

    _Pren._ Sir my Lord _Gond._ hath sent you a rare fish head.

    _Mer._ It comes right, all things sute right with me since I began
    to love scholars, you shall have it home with you against she come:
    carrie it to this Gentleman's house.

    _Pan._ The fair white house at the farther corner at S. Marks
    street, make haste, I must leave you too Sir, I have two hours to
    study; buy a new Accedence, and ply your book, and you shall want
    nothing that all the scholars in the Town can doe for you.    [_Exit
    Pander._

    _Mer._ Heaven prosper both our studies, what a dull slave was I
    before I fell in love with this learning! not worthy to tread upon
    the earth, & what fresh hopes it hath put in to me! I doe hope
    within this twelve-month to be able by Art to serve the Court with
    silks, and not undoe my self; to trust Knights, and yet get in my
    money again; to keep my wife brave, and yet she keep no body else
    so.

                     _Enter Count, and Lazarello._

    Your Lordship is most honourably welcome in regard of your
    Nobility; but most especialy in regard of your scholarship: did
    your Lordship come openly?

    _Count._ Sir this cloak keeps me private, besides no man will
    suspect me to be in the company of this Gentleman, with whom, I
    will desire you to be acquainted, he may prove a good customer to
    you.

    _Laza._ For plain silks and velvets.

    _Mer._ Are you scholasticall?

    _Laza._ Something addicted to the Muses.

    _Count._ I hope they will not dispute.

    _Mer._ You have no skill in the black Art.

                          _Enter a Prentice._

    _Pren._ Sir yonder's a Gentleman enquires hastily for Count
    _Valore_.

    _Count._ For me? what is he?

    _Pren._ One of your followers my Lord I think.

    _Count._ Let him come in.

    _Mer._ Shall I talk with you in private Sir?

       _Enter a Messenger with a Letter to the Count, he reads._

    _Count._ Count, _come to the Court your business calls you
    thither_, I will goe, farewell Sir, I will see your silks some
    other time: Farewell _Lazarillo_.

    _Mer._ Will not your Lordship take a piece of Beef with me?

    _Count._ Sir I have greater business than eating; I will leave this
    Gentleman with you.                          [_Exeunt Count. & Mes._

    _Laza._ No, no, no, no: now doe I feel that strain'd strugling
    within me, that I think I could prophesie.

    _Mer._ The Gentleman is meditating.

    _Laza._ Hunger, valour, love, ambition are alike pleasing, and let
    our Philosophers say what they will, are one kind of heat, only
    hunger is the safest: ambition is apt to fall; love and valour are
    not free from dangers; only hunger, begotten of some old limber
    Courtier, in pan'de hose, and nurs'd by an Attourneys wife; now so
    thriven, that he need not fear to be of the great Turks guard: is
    so free from all quarrels and dangers, so full of hopes, joyes, and
    ticklings, that my life is not so dear to me as his acquaintance.

                        _Enter Lazarello's boy._

    _Boy._ Sir the Fish head is gone.

    _Laza._ Then be thou henceforth dumb, with thy ill-boding voice.
    Farewell _Millain_, farewell Noble Duke,
    Farewell my fellow Courtiers all, with whom,
    I have of yore made many a scrambling meal
    In corners, behind Arasses, on stairs;
    And in the action oftentimes have spoil'd,
    Our Doublets and our Hose with liquid stuff:
    Farewell you lusty Archers of the Guard,
    To whom I now doe give the bucklers up,
    And never more with any of your coat
    Will eat for wagers, now you happy be,
    When this shall light upon you, think on me:
    You sewers, carvers, ushers of the court
    Sirnamed gentle for your fair demean,
    Here I doe take of you my last farewell,
    May you stand stifly in your proper places, and execute your offices
             aright.
    Farewell you Maidens, with your mother eke,
    Farewell you courtly Chaplains that be there
    All good attend you, may you never more
    Marry your Patrons Ladys wayting-woman,
    But may you raised be by this my fall
    May _Lazarillo_ suffer for you all.

    _Merc._ Sir I was hearkning to you.

    _Laz._ I will hear nothing, I will break my knife, the Ensign of
    my former happy state, knock out my teeth, have them hung at a
    Barbers, and enter into Religion.

    _Boy._ Why Sir, I think I know whither it is gone.

    _Laza._ See the rashness of man in his nature, whither? I do unsay
    all that I have said, go on, go on: Boy, I humble my self and
    follow thee; Farewell Sir.

    _Mer._ Not so Sir, you shall take a piece of Beef with me.

    _Laz._ I cannot stay.

    _Mer._ By my fay but you shall Sir, in regard of your love to
    learning, and your [s]kill in the black Art.

    _Laz._ I do hate learning, and I have no skill in [the] black Art,
    I would I had.

    _Mer._ Why your desire is sufficient to me, you shall stay.

    _Laz._ The most horrible and detested curses that can be imagined,
    light upon all the professors of that Art; may they be drunk, and
    when they goe to conjure, and reel in the Circle, may the spirits
    by them rais'd, tear 'em in pieces, and hang their quarters on old
    broken walls and Steeple tops.

    _Mer._ This speech of yours, shews you to have some skill in the
    Science, wherefore in civilitie, I may not suffer you to depart
    empty.

    _Laz._ My stomach is up, I cannot endure it, I will fight in this
    quarrell as soon as for my Prince.

                          _Draws his Rapier._           [_Exeunt Omnes._

    Room, make way:
    Hunger commands, my valour must obey.




_Actus_ [iiii]. _Scæna Prima._


                       _Enter Count and Arrigo._

    _Count._ Is the Duke private?

    _Arr._ He is alone, but I think your Lordship may enter.

                                                          [_Exit Count._

                           _Enter Gondarino._

    _Gond._ Who's with the Duke?

    _Arr._ The Count is new gone in; but the Duke will come forth,
    before you can be weary of waiting.

    _Gond._ I will attend him here.

    _Arr._ I must wait without the door.                 [_Exit_ Arrigo.

    _Gond._ Doth he hope to clear his Sister? she will come no more to
    my house, to laugh at me: I have sent her to a habitation, where
    when she shall be seen, it will set a gloss upon her name; yet upon
    my soul I have bestow'd her amongst the purest hearted creatures of
    her sex, and the freest from dissimulation; for their deeds are all
    alike, only they dare speak, what the rest think: the women of this
    age, if there be any degrees of comparison amongst their sex, are
    worse than those of former times; for I have read of women, of that
    truth, spirit, and constancy, that were they now living, I should
    endure to see them: but I fear the writers of the time belied them,
    for how familiar a thing is it with the Poets of our age, to extoll
    their whores, which they call Mistresses, with heavenly praises!
    but I thank their furies, and their craz'd brains, beyond belief:
    nay, how many that would fain seem serious, have dedicated grave
    Works to Ladies, toothless, hollow-ey'd, their hair shedding,
    purple fac'd, their nails apparently coming off; and the bridges
    of their noses broken down, and have call'd them the choice handy
    works of nature, the patterns of perfection, and the wonderment of
    Women. Our Women begin to swarm like Bees [in] Summer: as I came
    hither, there was no pair of stairs, no entry, no lobby, but was
    pestred with them: methinks there might be some course taken to
    destroy them.

         _Enter_ Arrigo, _and an old deaf countrey Gentlewoman
                         suitor to the Duke_.

    _Arri._ I do accept your money, walk here, and when the Duke comes
    out, you shall have fit opportunity to deliver your petition to him.

    _Gentlew._ I thank you heartily, I pray you who's he that walks
    there?

    _Ar._ A Lord, and a Soldier, one in good favour with the Duke; if
    you could get him to deliver your Petition--

    _Gentlew._ What do you say, Sir?

    _Ar._ If you could get him to deliver your petition for you, or to
    second you, 'twere sure.

    _Gentlew._ I hope I shall live to requite your kindness.

    _Ar._ You have already.                                [_Exit_ Arri.

    _Gentlew._ May it please your Lordship--

    _Gond._ No, no.

    _Gentlew._ To consider the estate--

    _Gond._ No.

    _Gentlew._ Of a poor oppressed countrey Gentlewoman.

    _Gond._ No, it doth not please my Lordship.

    _Gentlew._ First and formost, I have had great injury, then I have
    been brought up to the Town three times.

    _Gond._ A pox on him, that brought thee to the Town.

    _Gentlew._ I thank your good Lordship heartily; though I cannot
    hear well, I know it grieves you; and here we have been delaid, and
    sent down again, and fetch'd up again, and sent down again, to my
    great charge: and now at last they have fetch'd me up, and five of
    my daughters--

    _Gond._ Enough to damn five worlds.

    _Gentlew._ Handsome young women, though I say it, they are all
    without, if it please your Lordship I'll call them in.

    _Gond._ Five Women! how many of my sences should I have left me
    then? call in five Devils first.

    _No, I will rather walk with thee alone,_
    _And hear thy tedious tale of injury,_
    _And give thee answers; whisper in thine ear,_
    _And make thee understand through thy French hood:_
    _And all this with tame patience._

    _Gentlew._ I see your Lordship does believe, that they are without,
    and I perceive you are much mov'd at our injury: here's a paper
    will tell you more.

    _Gond._ Away.

    _Gentlew._ It may be you had rather hear me tell it _viva voce_,
    as they say.

    _Gond._ Oh no, no, no, no, I have heard it before.

    _Gentlew._ Then you have heard of enough injury, for a poor
    Gentlewoman to receive.

    _Gond._ Never, never, but that it troubles my conscience, to wish
    any good to these women; I could afford them to be valiant, and
    able, that it might be no disgrace for a Soldier to beat them.

    _Gentlew._ I hope your Lordship will deliver my petition to his
    grace, and you may tell him withal--

    _Gond._ What? I will deliver any thing against my self, to be rid
    on thee.

    _Gentlew._ That yesterday about three a clock in the after noon, I
    met my adversary.

    _Gond._ Give me thy paper, he can abide no long tales.

    _Gentlew._ 'Tis very short my Lord, and I demanding of him--

    _Gond._ I'll tell him that shall serve thy turn.

    _Gentlew._ How?

    _Gond._ I'll tell him that shall serve thy turn, begone: man never
    doth remember how great his offences are, till he do meet with one
    of you, that plagues him for them: why should Women [only] above
    all other creatures that were created for the benefit of man, have
    the use of speech? or why should any deed of theirs, done by their
    fleshly appetites, be disgraceful to their owners? nay, why should
    not an act done by any beast I keep, against my consent, disparage
    me as much as that of theirs?

    _Gentlew._ Here's some few Angels for your Lordship.

    _Gond._ Again? yet more torments?

    _Gentlew._ Indeed you shall have them.

    _Gond._ Keep off.

    _Gentlew._ A small gratuity for your kindness.

    _Gond._ Hold away.

    _Gentlew._ Why then I thank your Lordship, I'll gather them up
    again, and I'll be sworn, it is the first money that was refus'd
    since I came to the Court.

    _Gond._ What can she devise to say more?

    _Gentlew._ Truly I would have willingly parted with them to your
    Lordship.

    _Gond._ I believe it, I believe it.

    _Gentlew._ But since it is thus--

    _Gond._ More yet.

    _Gentlew._ I will attend without, and expect an answer.

    _Gond._ Do, begone, and thou shalt expect, and have any thing, thou
    shalt have thy answer from him; and he were best to give thee a
    good one at first, for thy deaf importunity, will conquer him too,
    in the end.

    _Gentlew._ God bless your Lordship, and all tha[t] favour a poor
    distressed countrey Gentlewoman.                    [_Exit Gentlew._

    _Gond._ All the diseases of man light upon them that doe, and upon
    me when I do. A week of such days, would either make me stark mad
    or tame me: yonder other woman that I have sure enough, shall
    answer for thy sins: dare they incense me still, I will make them
    fear as much to be ignorant of me and my moods, as men are to be
    ignorant of the law they live under. Who's there? My bloud grew
    cold, I began to fear my Suiters return; 'tis the Duke.

                    _Enter the Duke and the Count._

    _Count._ I know her chaste, though she be young and free,
    And is not of that forc'd behaviour
    That many others are, and that this Lord,
    Out of the boundless malice to the sex,
    Hath thrown this scandal on her.

    _Gond._ Fortune befriended me against my Will, with this good old
    countrey gentlewoman; I beseech your grace, to view favourably the
    petition of a wronged Gentlewoman.

    _Duke._ What _Gondarino_, are you become a petitioner for your
    enemies?

    _Gond._ My Lord, they are no enemies of mine, I confess, the better
    to [cover] my deeds, which sometimes were loose enough, I pretended
    it, as it is wisdom, to keep close our incontinence, but since you
    have discover'd me, I will no more put on that vizard, but will as
    freely open all my thoughts to you, as to my Confessor.

    _Duke._ What say you to this?

    _Count._ He that confesses he did once dissemble,
    I'll never trust his words: can you imagine
    A Maid, whose beauty could not suffer her
    To live thus long untempted, by the noblest,
    Richest, and cunningst Masters in that Art
    And yet hath ever held a fair repute;
    Could in one morning, and by him be brought,
    To forget all her virtue, and turn whore?

    _Gond._ I would I had some other talk in hand,
    Than to accuse a Sister to her Brother:
    Nor do I mean it for a publick scandal,
    Unless by urging me you make it so.

    _Duke._ I will read this at better leisure:   [_Gondarino_, where is
    the Lady?]

    _Count._ At his house.

    _Gond._ No, she is departed thence.

    _Count._ Whither?

    _Gond._ Urge it not thus, or let me be excus'd,
    If what I speak betray her chastity,
    And both increase my sorrow, and your own?

    _Count._ Fear me not so, if she deserve the fame
    Which she hath gotten, I would have it publisht,
    Brand her my self, and whip her through the City:
    I wish those of my bloud that doe offend,
    Should be more strictly punish[t], than my foes.
    Let it be prov'd.

    _Duke. Gondarino_, thou shalt prove it, or suffer worse than
    she should do.

    _Gond._ Then pardon me, if I betray the faults
    Of one, I love more dearly than my self,
    Since opening hers, I shall betray mine own:
    But I will bring you where she now intends
    Not to be virtuous: pride and wantonness,
    That are true friends indeed, though not in shew,
    Have entr'd on her heart, there she doth bathe,
    And sleek her hair, and practise cunning looks
    To entertain me with; and hath her thoughts
    As full of lust, as ever you did think
    Them full of modesty.

    _Duke. Gondarino_, lead on, we'll follow thee.            [_Exeunt._


_Actus Quartus. Scæna Secunda._

                            _Enter_ Pandar.

    _Pan._ Here hope I to meet my Citizen, and [here] hopes he to meet
    his [Scholar]; I am sure I am grave enough, to his eyes, and knave
    enough to deceive him: I am believ'd to conjure, raise storms, and
    devils, by whose power I can do wonders; let him believe so still,
    belief hurts no man; I have an honest black cloak, for my knavery,
    and a general pardon for his foolery, from this present day, till
    the day of his breaking. Is't not a misery, and the greatest of our
    age, to see a handsome, young, fair enough, and well mounted wench,
    humble her self, in an old stammel petticoat, standing possest of
    no more fringe, than the street can allow her: her upper parts so
    poor and wanting, that ye may see her bones through her bodies:
    shooes she would have, if [her] Captain were come over, and is
    content the while to devote her self to antient slippers. These
    premisses well considered, Gentlemen, will move, they make me melt
    I promise ye, they stirr me much: and wer't not for my smooth,
    soft, silken Citizen, I would quit this transitory Trade, get me
    an everlasting Robe, sear up my conscience, and turn Serjeant.
    But here he comes, is mine as good as prize: Sir _Pandarus_ be my
    speed, ye are most fitly met Sir.

                            _Enter Mercer._

    _Mer._ And you as well encount'red, what of this heir? hath your
    Books been propitious?

    _Pan._ Sir, 'tis done, she's come, she's in my house, make your
    self apt for Courtship, stroke up your stockings, loose not an inch
    of your legs goodness; I am sure ye wear socks.

    _Mer._ There your Books fail ye Sir, in truth I wear no socks.

    _Pand._ I would you had, Sir, it were the sweeter grace for your
    legs; get on your Gloves, are they perfum'd?

    _Mer._ A pretty wash I'll assure you.

    _Pand._ 'Twill serve: your offers must be full of bounty, Velvets
    to furnish a Gown, Silks for Peticoats and Foreparts, Shag for
    lining; forget not some pretty Jewel to fasten, after some little
    compliment: if she deny this courtesie, double your bounties, be
    not wanting in abundance, fulness of gifts, link'd with a pleasing
    tongue, will win an Anchorite. Sir, ye are my friend, and friend to
    all that professes good Letters; I must not use this office else,
    it fits not for a Scholar, and a Gentleman: those stockin[g]s are
    of _Naples_, they are silk?

    _Mer._ Ye are again beside your Text, Sir, they're of the best of
    Wooll, and [they cleeped] Jersey.

    _Pan._ Sure they are very dear.

    _Mer._ Nine shillings, by my love to learning.

    _Pan._ Pardon my judgement, we Scholars use no other objects, but
    our Books.

    _Mer._ There is one thing entomb'd in that grave breast, that makes
    me equally admire it with your Scholarship.

    _Pand._ Sir; but that in modesty I am bound not to affect mine own
    commendation, I would enquire it of you.

    _Merc._ Sure you are very honest; and yet ye have a kind of modest
    fear to shew it: do not deny it, that face of yours is a worthy,
    learned modest face.

    _Pand._ Sir, I can blush.

    _Mer._ Virtue and grace are always pair'd together: but I will
    leave to stirr your bloud Sir, and now to our business.

    _Pand._ Forget not my instructions.

    _Mer._ I apprehend ye Sir, I will gather my self together with my
    best phrases, and so I shall discourse in some sort takingly.

    _Pand._ This was well worded Sir, and like a Scholar.

    _Mer._ The Muses favour me as my intents are virtuous;
    Sir, ye shall be my Tutor, 'tis never too late Sir, to love
    Learning.
    When I can once speak true Latine--

    _Pand._ What do you intend Sir?

    _Mer._ Marry I will then begger all your bawdy Writers, and
    undertake, at the peril of my own invention, all Pageants, Poesies
    for Chimneys, Speeches for the Dukes entertainment, whensoever and
    whatsoever; nay I will build, at mine own charge, an Hospital, to
    which shall retire all diseased opinions, all broken Poets, all
    Prose-men that are fall'n from small sence, to meer Letters; and it
    shall be lawful for a Lawyer, if he be a civil man, though he have
    undone others and himself by the language, to retire to this poor
    life, and learn to be honest.

    _Pand._ Sir, ye are very good, and very charitable: ye are a true
    pattern for the City Sir.

    _Merc._ Sir, I doe know sufficiently, their Shop-books cannot save
    them, there is a farther end--

    _Pand._ Oh Sir, much may be done by manuscript.

    _Mer._ I do confess it Sir, provided still they be Canonical, and
    [have] some worthy hands set to 'um for probation: but we forget
    our selves.

    _Pand._ Sir, enter when you please, and all good language tip your
    tongue.

    _Merc._ All that love Learning pray for my good success.

                                                         [_Exit Mercer._


_Actus Quartus. Scæna Tertia._

                    _Enter_ Lazarello _and his Boy_.

    _Laz._ [Boy, whereabouts] are we?

    _Boy._ Sir, by all tokens this is the house, bawdy I am sure, [by]
    the broken windows, the Fish head is within; if ye dare venture,
    here you may surprize it.

    _Laz._ The misery of man may fitly be compar'd to a Didapper, who
    when she is under water, past our sight, and indeed can seem no
    more to us, rises again; shakes but her self, and is the same she
    was, so is it still with transitory man, this day: oh but an hour
    since, and I was mighty, mighty in knowledge, mighty in my hopes,
    mighty in blessed means, and was so truly happy, that I durst have
    said, live _Lazarello_, and be satisfied: but now--

    _Boy._ Sir, ye are yet afloat, and may recover, be not your own
    wreck, here lies the harbor, goe in and ride at ease.

    _Laz._ Boy, I am receiv'd to be a Gentleman, a Courtier, and a man
    of action, modest, and wise, and be it spoken with thy reverence,
    Child, abounding virtuous; and wouldst thou have a man of these
    choise habits, covet the cover of a bawdy-house? yet if I goe not
    in, I am but--

    _Boy._ But what Sir?

    _Laz._ Dust boy, but dust, and my soul unsatisfied shall haunt the
    keepers of my blessed Saint, and I will appear.

    _Boy._ An ass to all men; Sir, these are no means to stay your
    appetite, you must resolve to enter.

    _Laz._ Were not the house subject to Martial Law--

    _Boy._ If that be all, Sir, ye may enter, for ye can know nothing
    here that the Court is ignorant of, only the more eyes shall look
    upon you, for there they wink one at anothers faults.

    _Laz._ If I doe not.

    _Boy._ Then ye must beat fairly back again, fall to your physical
    mess of porridge, and the twice sack'd carkass of a Capon: Fortune
    may favour you so much, to send the bread to it: but it's a mee[re]
    venture, and money may be put out upon it.

    _Laz._ I will go in and live; pretend some love to the Gentlewoman,
    screw my self in affection, and so be satisfied.

    _Pan._ This Fly is caught, is mash'd already, I will suck him, and
    lay him by.

    _Boy._ Muffle your self in your cloak by any means, 'tis a receiv'd
    thing among gallants, to walk to their leachery, as though they had
    the rheum, 'twas well you brought not your horse.

    _Laz._ Why Boy?

    _Boy._ Faith Sir, 'tis the fashion of our Gentry, to have their
    horses wait at door like men, while the beasts their Masters, are
    within at rack and manger, 'twould have discover'd much.

    _Laz._ I will lay by these habits, forms, and grave respects of
    what I am, and be my self; only my appetite, my fire, my soul, my
    being, my dear appetite shall go along with me, arm'd with whose
    strength, I fearless will attempt the greatest danger dare oppose
    my fury: I am resolv'd where ever that thou art, most sacred dish,
    hid from unhallow'd eyes, to find thee out.

    Be'st thou in Hell, rap't by _Proserpina_,
    To be a rival in black _Pluto's_ love;
    Or mov'st thou in the heavens, a form Divine:
    Lashing the lazie Sphear[s],
    Or if thou be'st return'd to thy first Being,
    Thy mother Sea, the[re] will I seek thee forth.
    Earth, Air, nor Fire,
    Nor the black shades below shall bar my sight
    So daring is my powerful appetite.

    _Boy._ Sir, you may save this long voyage, and take a shorter
    cut: you have forgot your self, the fish head's here, your own
    imaginations have made you mad.

    _Laz._ Term it a jealous fury, good my boy.

    _Boy._ Faith Sir term it what you will, you must use other terms
    [ere] you can get it.

    _Laz._ The looks of my sweet love are fair,
    Fresh and feeding as the air.

    _Boy._ Sir, you forget your self.

    _Laz._ Was never seen so rare a head,
    Of any Fish alive or dead.

    _Boy._ Good Sir remember: this is the house, Sir.

    _Laz._ Cursed be he that dare not venture.

    _Boy._ Pity your self, Sir, and leave this fury.

    _Laz._ For such a prize, and so I enter.

                                            [_Exit_ Lazarello _and Boy_.

    _Pan._ Dun's i'th' mire, get out again how he can:
    My honest gallant, I'll shew you one trick more
    Than e'er the fool your father dream'd of yet.
    _Madona Julia_?

                    _Enter_ Madona Julia, _a Whore_.

    _Julia._ What news my sweet rogue, my dear sins-broker, what? good
    news?

    _Pan._ There is a kind of ignorant thing,
    Much like a Courtier, now gone in.

    _Jul._ Is he gallant?

    _Pan._ He shines not very gloriously, nor does he wear one skin
    perfum'd to keep the other sweet; his coat is not in _Or_, nor
    does the world run yet on wheels with him; he's rich enough, and
    has a small thing follows him, like to a boat tyed to a tall ships
    tail: give him entertainment, be light, and flashing like a Meteor,
    hug him about the neck, give him a kiss, and lisping cry, good
    Sir; and he's thine own, as fast as he were tied to thine arms by
    Indenture[s].

    _Jul._ I dare doe more than this, if he be o'th' true Court cut;
    I'll take him out a lesson worth the Learning: but we are but their
    Apes; what's he worth?

    _Pan._ Be he rich, or poor; if he will take thee with him, thou
    maist use thy trade [free] from Constables, and Marshals: who hath
    been here since I went out?

    _Jul._ There is a Gentlewoman sent hither by a Lord, she's a piece
    of dainty stuff my rogue, smooth and soft, as new Sattin; she was
    never gumm'd yet boy, nor fretted.

    _Pan._ Where lies she?

    _Jul._ She lies above, towards the street, not to be spoke with,
    but by [the] Lord that sent her, or some from him, we have in
    charge from his servants.

                           _Enter_ Lazarello.

    _Pan._ Peace, he comes out again upon discovery; up with all your
    Canvas, hale him in; and when thou hast done, clap him aboard
    bravely, my valiant Pinnace.

    _Jul._ Begone, I shall doe reason with him.

    _Laz._ Are you the special beauty of this house?

    _Jul._ Sir, you have given it a more special regard by your good
    language, than these black brows can merit.

    _Laz._ Lady, you are fair.

    _Jul._ Fair Sir? I thank ye; all the poor means I have left to be
    thought grateful, is but a kiss, and ye shall have it Sir.

    _Laz._ Ye have a very moving lip.

    _Jul._ Prove it again Sir, it may be your sense was set too high,
    and so over-wrought it self.

    _Laz._ 'Tis still the same: how far may ye hold the time to be
    spent Lady?

    _Jul._ Four a clock, Sir.

    _Laz._ I have not eat to day.

    _Jul._ You will have the better stomach to your supper; in the mean
    time I'll feed you with delight.

    _Laz._ 'Tis not so good upon an empty stomach: if it might be
    without the trouble of your house, I would eat?

    _Jul._ Sir, we can have a Capon ready.

    _Laz._ The day?

    _Jul._ 'Tis Friday, Sir.

    _Laz._ I do eat little flesh upon these days.

    _Jul._ Come sweet, ye shall not think on meat; I'll drown it with a
    better appetite.

    _Laz._ I feel it work more strangely, I must eat.

    _Jul._ 'Tis now too late to send; I say ye shall not think on meat:
    if ye do, by this kiss I'll be angry.

    _Laz._ I could be far more sprightful, had I eaten, and more
    lasting.

    _Jul._ What will you have Sir? name but the Fish, my Maid shall
    bring it, if it may be got.

    _Laz._ Methinks your house should not be so unfurnish'd, as not to
    have some pretty modicum.

    _Jul._ It is [so] now: but you'd ye stay till supper?

    _Laz._ Sure I have offended highly, and much, and my [infl]ictions
    makes it manifest, I will retire henceforth, and keep my chamber,
    live privately, and dye forgotten.

    _Jul._ Sir, I must crave your pardon, I had forgot my self; I have
    a dish of meat within, and it is fish; I think this Dukedom holds
    not a daintier: 'tis an _Umbranoes_ head.

    _Laz._ [Lady, this] kiss is yours, and this.

    _Jul._ Hoe! within there! cover the board, and set the Fish head on
    it.

    _Laz._ Now am I so truly happy, so much above all fate and fortune,
    that I should despise that man, durst say, remember _Lazarello_,
    thou art mortal.

                  _Enter Intelligencers with a Guard._

    _2 Int._ This is the villain, lay [hands] on him.

    _Laz._ Gentlemen, why am I thus intreated? what is the nature of my
    crime?

    _2 Int._ Sir, though you have carried it a great while privately,
    and (as you think) well; yet we have seen you Sir, and we do know
    thee _Lazarello_, for a Traitor.

    _Laz._ The gods defend our Duke.

    _2 Int._ Amen, Sir, Sir, this cannot save that stiff neck from the
    halter.

    _Jul._ Gentlemen, I am glad you have discover'd him, he should not
    have eaten under my roof for twenty pounds; and surely I did not
    like him, when he call'd for Fish. _Laz._ My friends, will ye let
    me have that little favour--

    _1 Int._ Sir, ye shall have Law, and nothing else.

    _Laz._ To let me stay the eating of a bit or two, for I protest I
    am yet fasting.

    _Jul._ I'll have no Traitor come within my house.

    _Laz._ Now could I wish my self I had been a Traitor, I have
    strength enough for to endure it, had I but patience: Man thou art
    but grass, thou art a bubble, and thou must perish.

    Then lead along, I am prepar'd for all:
    Since I have lost my hopes, welcome my fall.

    _2 Int._ Away Sir.

    _Laz._ As thou hast hope of man, stay but this dish this two hours,
    I doubt not but I shall be discharged: by this light I will marry
    thee.

    _Jul._ You shall marry me first then.

    _Laz._ I do contract my self unto thee now, before these Gentlemen.

    _Jul._ I'll preserve it till you be hang'd or quitted.

    _Laz._ Thanks, thanks.

    _2 Int._ Away, away, you shall thank her at the gallows.

    _Laz._ Adieu, adieu.              [_Exeunt_ Laz. _2 Int. and Guard._

    _Jul._ If he live I'll have him, if he be hang'd, there's no loss
    in it.                                                      [_Exit._

    _Enter_ Oriana _and her waiting woman, looking out at a window_.

    _Orian._ Hast thou provided one to bear my Letter to my brother?

    _Wait._ I have enquir'd, but they of the house will suffer no
    Letter nor message to be carried from you, but such as the Lord
    _Gondarino_ shall be acquainted with: truly Madam I suspect the
    house to be no better than it should be.

    _Ori._ What dost thou doubt?

    _Wait._ Faith I am loth to tell it, Madam.

    _Ori._ Out with it, 'tis not true modesty to fear to speak that
    thou dost think.

    _Wait._ I think it [be] one of these [same] Bawdy houses.

    _Ori._ 'Tis no matter wench, we are warm in it, keep thou thy mind
    pure, and upon my word, that name will do thee no hurt: I cannot
    force my self yet to fear any thing; when I do get out, I'll [have]
    another encounter with my Woman-Hater. Here will I sit. I may get
    sight of some of my friends, it must needs be a comfort to them to
    see me here.

                _Enter_ Duke, Gondarino, Count, Arrigo.

    _Gond._ Are we all sufficiently disguis'd? for this house where she
    attends me, is not to be visited in our own shapes.

    _Duke._ We are not our selves.

    _Arr._ I know the house to be sinful enough, yet I have been
    heretofore, and durst now, but for discovering of you, appear here
    in my own likeness.

    _Duke._ Where's _Lucio_?

    _Arri._ My Lord, he said the affairs of the Common-wealth would not
    suffer him to attend always.

    _Duke._ Some great ones questionless that he will handle.

    _Count._ Come, let us enter.

    _Gond._ See how Fortune strives to revenge my quarrel upon these
    women, she's in the window, were it not to undoe her, I should not
    look upon her.

    _Duke._ Lead us _Gondarino_.

    _Gond._ Stay; since you force me to display my shame,
    Look there, and you my Lord, know you that face?

    _Duke._ Is't she?

    _Count._ It is.

    _Gond._ 'Tis she, whose greatest virtue ever was
    Dissimulation; she that still hath strove
    More to sin cunningly, than to avoid it:
    She that hath ever sought to be accounted
    Most virtuous, when she did deserve most scandal:
    'Tis she that itches now, and in the height
    Of her intemperate thoughts, with greedy eyes
    Expects my coming to allay her Lust:
    Leave her; forget she's thy sister.

    _Count._ Stay, stay.

    _Duke._ I am as full of this, as thou canst be,
    The memory of this will easily
    Hereafter stay my loose and wandring thought[s]
    From any Woman.

    _Count._ This will not down with me, I dare not trust this fellow.

    _Duke._ Leave her here, that only shall be her punishment, never to
    be fetcht from hence; but let her use her trade to get her living.

    _Count._ Stay good my Lord, I do believe all this, as great men as
    I, have had known whores to their Sisters, and have laught at it:
    I would fain hear how she talks, since she grew thus light: will
    your grace make him shew himself to her, as if he were now come
    to satisfie her longing? whilst we, unseen of her, over-hear her
    wantonness, let's make our best of it now, we shall have good mirth.

    _Duke._ Do it _Gondarino_.

    _Gond._ I must; fortune assist me but this once.

    _Count._ Here we shall stand unseen, and near enough.

    _Gond._ Madam, _Oriana_.

    _Oria._ Who's that? oh! my Lord?

    _Gond._ Shall I come up?

    _Oria._ Oh you are merry, shall I come down?

    _Gond._ It is better there.

    _Oria._ What is the confession of the lye you made to the Duke,
    which I scarce believe, yet you had impudence enough to do? did it
    not gain you so much faith with me, as that I was willing to be at
    your Lordships bestowing, till you had recover'd my credit, and
    confest your self a lyar, as you pretended to do? I confess I began
    to fear you, and desir'd to be out of your house, but your own
    followers forc'd me hither.

    _Gond._ 'Tis well suspected, dissemble still, for there are some
    may hear us.

    _Oria._ More tricks yet, my Lord? what house this is I know not, I
    only know my self: it were a great conquest, if you could fasten
    a scandal upon me: 'faith my Lord, give me leave to write to my
    brother?

    _Duke._ Come down.

    _Count._ Come down.

    _Arr._ If it please your Grace, there's a back door.

    _Count._ Come meet us there then.

    _Duke._ It seems you are acquainted with the house.

    _Arr._ I have been in it.

    _Gond._ She saw you and dissembled.

    _Duke._ Sir, we shall know that better.

    _Gond._ Bring me unto her, if I prove her not
    To be a strumpet, let me be contemn'd
    Of all her sex.                                           [_Exeunt._




_Actus Quintus. Scæna Prima._


                             _Enter_ Lucio.

    _Luc._ Now whilst the young Duke follows his delights,
    We that do mean to practise in the State,
    Must pick our times, and set our faces in,
    And nod our heads as it may prove most fit
    For the main good of the dear Common-wealth:
    Who's within there?

                           _Enter a Servant._

    _Serv._ My Lord?

    _Luc._ Secretary, fetch the Gown I use to read Petitions in,
    and the Standish I answer French Letters with: and call in the
    Gentleman that attends:                                [_Exit Serv._

    Little know they that do not deal in State,
    How many things there are to be observ'd,
    Which seem but little; yet by one of us
    (Whose brains do wind about the Common-wealth)
    Neglected, cracks our credits utterly.

                    _Enter Gentleman and a Servant._

    Sir, but that I do presume upon your secresie, I would not have
    appear'd to you thus ignorantly attir'd without a tooth-pick in a
    ribbond, or a Ring in my bandstring[s].

    _Gent._ Your Lordship sen[t] for me?

    _Luc._ I did: Sir, your long practice in the State, under a great
    man, hath led you to much experience.

    _Gent._ My Lord.

    _Luc._ Suffer not your modesty to excuse it: in short, and in
    private, I desire your direction, I take my study already to be
    furnisht after a grave and wise method.

    _Gent._ What will this Lord do?

    _Luc._ My Book-strings are sutable, and of a reaching colour.

    _Gent._ How's this?

    _Luc._ My Standish of Wood, strange and sweet, and my fore-flap
    hangs in the right place, and as near _Machiavel's_, as can be
    gathered by tradition.

    _Gent._ Are there such men as will say nothing abroad, and play
    the fools in their Lodgings? this Lord must be followed: and hath
    your Lordship some new made words to scatter in your speeches in
    publick, to gain note, that the hearers may carry them away, and
    dispute of them at dinner?

    _Luc._ I have Sir: and besides, my several Gowns and Caps agreeable
    to my several occasions.

    _Gent._ 'Tis well, and you have learn'd to write a bad hand, that
    the Readers may take pains for it.

    _Luc._ Yes Sir, and I give out I have the palsie.

    _Gent._ Good, 'twere better though, if you had it: your Lordship
    hath a Secretary, that can write fair, when you purpose to be
    understood.

    _Luc._ 'Faith Sir I have one, there he stands, he hath been my
    Secretary these seven years, but he hath forgotten to write.

    _Gen._ If he can make a writing face, it is not amiss, so he keep
    his own counsel: your Lordship hath no hope of the Gout?

    _Luc._ Uh, little Sir, since the pain in my right foot left me.

    _Gent._ 'Twill be some scandal to your wisdom, though I see your
    Lordship knows enough in publick business.

    _Luc._ I am not imploy'd (though to my desert) in occasions
    forreign, nor frequented for matters domestical.

    _Gent._ Not frequented? what course takes your Lordship?

    _Luc._ The readiest way, my door stands wi[de], my Secretary knows
    I am not denied to any.

    _Gent._ In this (give me leave) your Lordship is out of the way:
    make a back door to let out Intelligencers; seem to be ever busie,
    and put your door under keepers, and you shall have a troop of
    Clients sweating to come at you.

    _Luc._ I have a back door already, I will henceforth be busie,
    Secretary, run and keep the door.                 [_Exit Secretary._

    _Gent._ This will fetch 'um?

    _Luc._ I hope so.

                           _Enter Secretary._

    _Secr._ My Lord, there are some require access to you, about
    weighty affairs of State.

    _Luc._ Already?

    _Gent._ I told you so.

    _Luc._ How weighty is the business?

    _Secr._ Treason my Lord.

    _Luc._ Sir, my debts to you for this are great.

    _Gent._ I will leave your Lordship now.

    _Luc._ Sir, my death must be suddain, if I requite you not: at the
    back door good Sir.

    _Gent._ I will be your Lordships Intelligencer for once.      [_Exit
    Gentleman._

                           _Enter Secretary._

    _Secr._ My Lord.

    _Luc._ Let 'em in, and say I am at my study.

              _Enter_ Lazarello, _and two Intelligencers_,
                      Lucio _being at his study_.

    _1 Int._ Where is your Lord?

    _Secr._ At his study, but he will have you brought in.

    _Laza._ Why Gentlemen, what will you charge me withal?

    _2 Int._ Treason, horrible treason, I hope to have the leading of
    thee to prison, and prick thee on i'th' arse with a Halbert: to
    have him hang'd that salutes thee, and call all those in question
    that spit not upon thee.

    _Laz._ My thred is spun, yet might I but call for this dish of meat
    at the gallows, instead of a Psalm, it were to be endur'd: the
    Curtain opens, now my end draws on.

                                         [_Secretary draws the Curtain._

    _Luc._ Gentlemen, I am not empty of weighty occasions at this time;
    I pray you your business.

    _1 Int._ My Lord, I think we have discover'd one of the most bloudy
    Traitors, that ever the world held.

    _Luc._ Signior _Lazarillo_, I am glad ye are one of this discovery,
    give me your hand.

    _2 Int._ My Lord, that is the Traitor.

    _Luc._ Keep him off, I would not for my whole estate have touchd
    him.

    _Laz._ My Lord.

    _Luc._ Peace Sir, I know the devil is at your tongue's end, to
    furnish you with speeches: what are the particulars you charge him
    with?

                          [_They deliver a paper to_ Lucio, _who reads_.

    _Both Int._ We [have] conferr'd our Notes, and have extracted that,
    which we will justifie upon our oaths.

    _Luc._ That he would be greater than the Duke, that he had cast
    plots for this, and meant to corrupt some to betray him, that he
    would burn the City, kill the Duke, and poison the Privy Council;
    and lastly kill himself. Though thou deserv'st justly to be hang'd
    with silence, yet I allow thee to speak, be short.

    _Laz._ My Lord, so may my greatest wish succeed,
    So may I live, and compass what I seek,
    As I had never treason in my thoughts,
    Nor ever did conspire the overthrow
    Of any creatures but of brutish beasts,
    Fowls, Fishes, and such other humane food,
    As is provided for the good of man.
    If stealing Custards, Tarts, and Florentines
    By some late Statute be created Treason;
    How many fellow-Courtiers can I bring,
    Whose long attendance and experience,
    Hath made them deeper in the plot than I?

    _Luc._ Peace, such hath ever been the clemency of my gracious
    Master the Duke, in all his proceedings, that I had thought, and
    thought I had thought rightly; that malice would long e'r this
    have hid her self in her Den, a[n]d have turn'd her own sting
    against her own heart: but I well [now] perceive, that so froward
    is the disposition of a deprav'd nature, that it doth not only seek
    revenge, where it hath receiv'd injury, but many times thirst after
    their destruction, where it hath met with benefits.

    _Laz._ But my good Lord--

    _2 Int._ Let's gagg him.

    _Luc._ Peace again, but many times thirst after destruction, where
    it hath met with benefits; there I left: Such, and no better are
    the business that we have now in hand.

    _1 Int._ He's excellently spoken.

    _[2] Int._ He'll wind a Traitor I warrant him.

    _Luc._ But surely methinks, setting aside the touch of conscience,
    and all [other] inward convulsions.

    _2 Int._ He'll be hang'd, I know by that word.

    _Laz._ Your Lordship may consider--

    _Luc._ Hold thy peace: thou canst not answer this speech: no
    Traitor can answer it: but because you cannot answer this speech, I
    take it you have confess'd the Treason.

    _1 Int._ The Count _Valore_ was the first that discover'd him, and
    can witness it; but he left the matter to your Lordship's grave
    consideration.

    _Luc._ I thank his Lordship, carry him away speedily to the Duke.

    _Laz._ Now _Lazarillo_ thou art tumbl'd down
    The hill of fortune, with a violent arm;
    All plagues that can be, Famine, and the Sword
    Will light upon thee, black despair will boil
    In thy despairing breast, no comfort by,
    Thy friends far off, thy enemies are nigh.

    _Luc._ Away with him, I'll follow you, look you pinion him, and
    take his money from him, lest he swallow a shilling, and kill
    himself.

    _2 Int._ Get thou on before.                              [_Exeunt._


_Actus Quintus. Scæna [2]._

         _Enter the Duke, the Count_, Gondarino, _and_ Arrigo.

    _Duke._ Now _Gondarino_, what can you put on now
    That may [again] deceive us?
    Have ye more strange illusions, yet more mists,
    Through which, the weak eye may be led to error:
    What can ye say that may do satisfaction
    Both for her wrong'd honor, and your ill?

    _Gond._ All I can say, or may, is said already:
    She is unchaste, or else I have no knowledge,
    I do not breathe, nor have the use of sense.

    _Duke._ Dare ye be yet so wilful, ignorant of your own
    nakedness? did not your servants
    In mine own hearing confess
    They brought her to that house we found her in,
    Almost by force: and with a great distrust
    Of some ensuing hazard?

    _Count._ He that hath begun so worthily,
    It fits not with his resolution
    To leave off thus, my Lord, I know these are but idle proofs.
    What says your Lordship to them?

    _Gond._ Count, I dare yet pronounce again, thy Sister is not honest.

    _Count._ You are your self my Lord, I like your setledness.

    _Gond._ Count, thou art young, and unexperienc'd in the dark,
    hidden ways of Women: Thou dar'st affirm with confidence, a Lady of
    fifteen may be a Maid.

    _Count._ Sir, if it were not so, I have a Sister would set near my
    heart.

    _Gond._ Let her sit near her shame, it better fits her: call back
    the bloud that made our stream in nearness, and turn the Current to
    a better use; 'tis too much mudded, I do grieve to know it.

    _Duke._ Dar'st thou make up again, dar'st thou turn face, knowing
    we know thee, hast thou not been discover'd openly? did not our
    ears hear her deny thy courtings? did we not see her blush with
    modest anger, to be so overtaken by a trick; can ye deny this Lord?

    _Gond._ Had not your Grace, and her kind brother
    Been within level of her eye,
    You should have had a hotter volley from her,
    More full of bloud and fire, ready to leap the window where she stood.
    So truly sensual is her appetite.

    _Duke._ Sir, Sir, these are but words and tricks, give me the proof.

    _Count._ What need a better proof than your Lordship?
    I am sure ye have lain with her my Lord.

    _Gond._ I have confest it Sir.

    _Duke._ I dare not give thee credit without witness.

    _Gond._ Does your grace think we carry seconds with us, to search
    us, and see fair play: your Grace hath been ill tutor'd in the
    business; but if you hope to try her truly, and satisfy your self
    what frailty is, give her the Test: do not remember Count she is
    your Sister; nor let my Lord the Duke believe she is fair; but put
    her to it without hope or pity, then ye shall see that golde[n]
    form flie off, that all eyes wonder at for pure and fixt, and
    under't base blushing Copper; metall not worth the meanest honor:
    you shall behold her then my Lord transparent, look through her
    heart, and view the spirits how they leap, and tell me then I did
    belie the Lady.

    _Duke._ It shall be done: come _Gondarino_ bear us company,
    We do believe thee: she shall die, and thou shalt see it.

          _Enter_ Lazarello, _two Intelligencers, and Guard_.

    How now my friends, [whome] have you guarded hither?

    _2 Int._ So please your Grace we have discover'd a villain and a
    Traitor: the Lord _Lucio_ hath examin'd him, and sent him to your
    Grace for Judgement.

    _Count._ My Lord, I dare absolve him from all sin of Treason: I
    know his most ambition is but a dish of meat; which he hath hunted
    with so true a scent, that he deserveth the Collar not the Halter.

    _Duke._ Why do they bring him thus bound up? the poor man had more
    need [of] some warm meat, to comfort his cold stomach.

    _Count._ Your Grace shall have the cause hereafter, when you [may]
    laugh more freely:

    But these are call'd Informers: men that live by Treason, as
    Rat-catchers do by poison.

    _Duke._ Would there were no heavier prodigies hung over us,
    than this poor fellow, I durst redeem all perils ready to pour
    themselves upon this State, with a cold Custard.

    _Count._ Your Grace might do it without danger to your person.

    _Laz._ My Lord, if ever I intended treason against your Person,
    or the State, unless it were by wishing from your Table some dish
    of meat, which I must needs confess, was not a subjects part: or
    coveting by stealth, sups from those noble bottles, that no mouth,
    keeping allegiance true, should dare to taste: I must confess, with
    more than covetous eye, I have beheld those dear conceal'd dishes,
    that have been brought in by cunning equipage, to wait upon your
    Graces pallat: I do confesse, out of this present heat, I have had
    Stratagems and Ambuscado's; but God be thank'd they have never took.

    _Duke._ Count, this business is your own; when you have done,
    repair to us.                                          [_Exit Duke._

    _Count._ I will attend your Grace: _Lazarello_, you are at liberty,
    be your own man again; and if you can be master of your wishes, I
    wish it may be so.

    _Laz._ I humbly thank your Lordship: I must be unmannerly, I have
    some present business, once more I heartily thank your Lordship.
    [_Exit_ Lazarillo.

    _Count._ Now even a word or two to you, and so farewell; you think
    you have deserv'd much of this State by this discovery: y'are a
    slavish people, grown subject to the common course of all men.
    How much unhappy were that noble spirit, could work by such baser
    gains? what misery would not a knowing man put on with willingness,
    e'r he see himself grown fat and full fed, by fall of those you
    rise by? I do discharge ye my attendance; our healthful State needs
    no such Leeches to suck out her bloud.

    _1 Int._ I do beseech your Lordship.

    _2 Int._ Good my Lord.

    _Count._ Go learn to be more honest, [when] I see you work your
    means from honest industry,                     [_Exeunt Informers._

    I will be willing to accept your labours:
    Till then I will keep back my promis'd favours:
    Here comes another remnant of folly:

                             _Enter_ Lucio.

    I must dispatch him too. Now Lord _Lucio_, what business [bring]
    you hither?

    _Luc._ Faith Sir, I am discovering what will become of that notable
    piece of treason, intended by that Varlet _Lazarillo_; I have sent
    him to the Duke for judgement.

    _Count._ Sir, you have perform'd the part of a most careful
    Statesman, and let me say it to your face, Sir, of a Father to
    this State: I would wish you to retire, and insconce your self in
    study: for such is your daily labour, and our fear, that our loss
    of an hour may breed our overthrow.

    _Luc._ Sir, I will be commanded by your judgement, and though I
    find it a trouble scant to be waded through, by these weak years:
    yet for the dear care of the Commonwealth, I will bruise my brains,
    and confine my self to much vexation.

    _Count._ Go, and maist thou knock down Treason like an Ox.

    _Luc._ Amen.

                                                              [_Exeunt._

                  _Enter Mercer, Pandar, Francissina._

    _Mer._ Have I spoke thus much in the honor of Learning? learn'd the
    names of the seven liberal Sciences, before my marriage; and since,
    have in haste written Epistles congratulatory, to the Nine Muses,
    and is she prov'd a Whore and a Begger?

    _Pan._ 'Tis true, you are not now to be taught, that no man can be
    learn'd of a suddain; let not your first project discourage you,
    what you have lost in this, you may get again in Alchumie.

    _Fran._ Fear not Husband, I hope to make as good a wife, as the
    best of your neighbors have, and as honest.

    _Mer._ I will goe home; good Sir, do not publish this, as long as
    it runs amongst our selves; 'tis good honest mirth: you'll come
    home to supper; I mean to have all her friends, and mine, as ill as
    it goes.

    _Pan._ Do wisely Sir, and bid your own friends, your whole wealth
    will scarce feast all hers, neither is it for your credit, to walk
    the streets with a woman so noted; get you home and provide her
    cloaths: let her come an hour hence with an Hand-basket, and shift
    her self, she'll serve to sit at the upper end of the Table, and
    drink to your customers.

    _Mer._ Art is just, and will make me amends.

    _Pan._ No doubt Sir.

    _Mer._ The chief note of a Scholar you say, is to govern his
    passions; wherefore I do take all patiently; in sign of which, my
    [most] dear Wife, I do kiss thee, make haste home after me, I shall
    be in my study.

                                                         [_Exit Mercer._

    _Pan._ Go, avaunt, my new City Dame, send me what you promis'd me
    for consideration; and may'st thou prove a Lady.

    _Fran._ Thou shalt have it, his Silks shall flie for it.  [_Exeunt._

                    _Enter_ Lazarello _and his boy_.

    _Laz._ How sweet is a Calm after a Tempest, what is there now that
    can stand betwixt me and felicity? I have gone through all my
    crosses constantly; have confounded my enemies, and know where to
    have my longing[s] satisfied: I have my way before me, there's the
    door, and I may freely walk into my delights: knock boy.

    _Jul._ Who's there?                                       [_Within._

    _Laz. Madona_, my Love, not guilty, not guilty, open the door.

                             _Enter_ Julia.

    _Jul._ Art thou come sweet-heart?

    _Laz._ Yes, to [thy] soft embraces, and the rest of my over-flowing
    blisses; come, let us in and swim in our delights: a short Grace as
    we go, and so to meat.

    _Jul._ Nay my dear Love, you must bear with me in this; we'll to
    the Church first.

    _Laz._ Shall I be sure of it then?

    _Jul._ By my love you shall.

    _Laz._ I am content, for I do now wish to hold off longer, to whet
    my appetite, and do desire to meet with more troubles, so I might
    conquer them:

    And as a holy Lover that hath spent
    The tedious night with many a sigh and tears;
    Whilst he pursu'd his wench: and hath observ'd
    The smiles, and frowns, not daring to displease
    When at last, hath with his service won
    Her yielding heart; that she begins to dote
    Upon him, and can hold no longer out,
    But hangs about his neck, and wooes him more
    Than ever he desir'd her love before:
    Then begins to flatter his desert,
    And growing wanton, needs will cast her off;
    Try her, pick quarrels, to breed fresh delight,
    And to increase his pleasing appetite.

    _Jul._ Come Mouse will you walk?

    _Laz._ I pray thee let me be deliver'd of the joy I am so big with,
    I do feel that high heat within me, that I begin to doubt whether I
    be mortal:

    How I contemn my fellows in the Court,
    With whom I did but yesterday converse?
    And in a lower, and an humbler key
    Did walk and meditate on grosser meats?
    There are they still poor rogues, shaking their chops,
    And sneaking after Cheeses, and do run
    Headlong in chace, of every Jack of Beer
    That crosseth them, in hope of some repast,
    That it will bring them to, whilst I am here,
    The happiest wight that ever set his tooth
    To a dear novelty: approach my love,
    Come, let's go to knit the True Loves knot,
    That never can be broken.

    _Boy._ That is to marry a whore.

    _Laz._ When that is done, then will we taste the gift,
    Which Fates have sent my Fortunes up to lift.

    _Boy._ When that is done, you'll begin to repent upon a full
    stomach; but I see, 'tis but a form in destiny, not to be alter'd.
    [_Exeunt._

                      _Enter_ Arrigo _and Oriana_.

    _Oria._ Sir, what may be the current of your business, that thus
    you single out your time and place?

    _Arri._ Madam, the business now impos'd upon me, concerns you
    nearly, I wish some worser man might finish it.

    _Ori._ Why are ye chang'd so? are ye not well Sir?

    _Arr._ Yes Madam, I am well, wo'd you were so.

    _Oria._ Why Sir, I feel my self in perfect health.

    _Arri._ And yet ye cannot live long, Madam.

    _Oria._ Why good _Arrigo_?

    _Arr._ Why? ye must dye.

    _Oria._ I know I must, but yet my fate calls not upon me.

    _Arr._ It does; this hand the Duke commands shall give you death.

    _Oria._ Heaven, and the powers Divine, guard well the innocent.

    _Arr._ Lady, your Prayers may do your soul some good,
    That sure your body cannot merit by 'em:
    You must prepare to die.

    _Orian._ What's my offence? what have these years committed,
    That may be dangerous to the Duke, or State?
    Have I conspir'd by poison, have I giv'n up
    My honor to some loose unsetl'd bloud
    That may give action to my plots?
    Dear Sir, let me not dye ignorant of my faults?

    _Arr._ Ye shall not.
    Then Lady, you must know, you're held unhonest;
    The Duke, your Brother, and your friends in Court,
    With too much grief condemn ye: though to me,
    The fault deserves not to be paid with death.

    _Orian._ Who's my accuser?

    _Arri._ Lord _Gondarino_.

    _Orian. Arrigo_, take these words, and bear them to the Duke,
    It is the last petition I shall ask thee:
    Tell him the child this present hour brought forth
    To see the world has not a soul more pure, more white,

    More Virgin than I have; Tell him Lord _Gondarino's_ Plot, I suffer
    for, and willingly: tell him it had been a greater honor, to have
    sav'd than kill'd: but I have done: strike, I am arm'd for heaven.
    Why, stay you? is there any hope?

    _Arri._ I would not strike.

    _Orian._ Have you the power to save?

    _Arri._ With hazard of my life, if it should be known.

    _Orian._ You will not venture that?

    _Arri._ I will Lady: there is that means yet to escape your death,
    if you can wisely apprehend [it].

    _Orian._ Ye dare not be so kind?

    _Arri._ I dare, and will, if you dare but deserve't.

    _Ori._ If I should slight my life, I were [to] blame.

    _Arri._ Then Madam, this is the means, or else you die: I love you.

    _Orian._ I shall believe it, if you save my life.

    _Arri._ And you must lie with me.

    _Orian._ I dare not buy my life so.

    _Arri._ Come, ye must resolve, say yea or no.

    _Orian._ Then no; nay, look not ruggedly upon me, I am made up too
    strong to fear such looks: Come, do your Butchers part: before I
    would wish life, with the dear loss of honour, I dare find means to
    free my self.

    _Arr._ Speak, will ye yield?

    _Orian._ Villain, I will not; Murtherer, do thy worst, thy base
    unnoble thoughts dare prompt thee to; I am above thee slave.

    _Arri._ Wilt thou not be drawn to yield by fair perswasions?

    _Orian._ No, nor by--

    _Arri._ Peace, know your doom then; your Ladyship must remember,
    you are not now at home, where you dare [jeast at] all that come
    about you: but you are fallen under my mercy, which shall be but
    small; if thou refuse to yield: hear what I have sworn unto my
    self; I will enjoy thee, though it be between the parting of thy
    soul and body; yield yet and live.

    _Orian._ I'll guard the one, let Heaven guard the other.

    _Arri._ Are you so resolute then?

    [_Duke from above._ Hold, hold I say.]

    _Orian._ What [have] I? yet more terror to my tragedy?

    _Arri._ Lady, the Scene of bloud is done; ye are now as free from
    scandal, as from death.

                  _Enter Duke, Count, and_ Gondarino.

    _Duke._ Thou Woman which wert born to teach men virtue,
    Fair, sweet, and modest Maid, forgive my thoughts,
    My trespass was my love.
    Seize _Gondarino_, let him wait our dooms.

    _Gond._ I do begin a little to love this woman; I could endure her
    already twelve miles off.

    _Count._ Sister, I am glad you have brought your honor off so
    fairly, without loss: you have done a work above your sex, the Duke
    admires it: give him fair encounter.

    _Duke._ Best of all comforts, may I take this hand, and call it
    mine?

    _Ori._ I am your Graces handmaid.

    _Duke._ Would ye had sed my self: might it not be so Lady?

    _Count._ Sister, say I, I know you can afford it.

    _Ori._ My Lord, I am your subject, you may command me, provided
    still, your thoughts be fair and good.

    _Duke._ Here I am yours, and when I cease to be so,
    Let heaven forget me: thus I make it good.

    _Ori._ My Lord, I am no more mine own.

    _Count._ So, this bargain was well driven.

    _Gond._ Duke, thou hast sold away thy self to all perdition; thou
    art this present hour becomming Cuckold: methinks I see thy gaul
    grate through thy veins, and jealousie seize thee with her talons:
    I know that womans nose must be cut off, she cannot scape it.

    _Duke._ Sir, we have punishment for you.

    _Orian._ I do beseech your Lordship, for the wrongs this man hath
    done me, let me pronounce his punishment.

    _Duke._ Lady, I give't to you, he is your own.

    _Gond._ I do beseech your Grace, let me be banisht with all the
    speed that may be.

    _Count._ Stay still, you shall attend her sentence.

    _Orian._ Lord _Gondarino_, you have wrong'd me highly; yet since it
    sprung from no peculiar hate to me, but from a general dislike unto
    all women, you shall thus suffer for it; _Arrigo_, call in some
    Ladies to assist us; will your Grace [t]ake your State?

    _Gond._ My Lord, I do beseech your Grace for any punishment saving
    this woman, let me be sent upon discovery of some Island; I do
    desire but a small Gondela, with ten Holland Cheeses, and I'll
    undertake it.

    _Oria._ Sir, ye must be content, will ye sit down? nay, do it
    willingly: _Arrigo_, tie his Arms close to the chair, I dare not
    trust his patience.

    _[G]ond._ Mayst thou be quickly old and painted; mayst thou dote
    upon some sturdy Yeoman of the Wood-yard, and he be honest; mayst
    thou be barr'd the lawful lechery of thy Coach, for want of
    instruments; and last, be thy womb unopen'd.

    _Duke._ This fellow hath a pretty gaul.

    _Count._ My Lord, I hope to see him purg'd e'r he part.

                            _Enter Ladies._

    _Oria._ Your Ladyships are welcome: I must desire your helps,
    though you are no Physitians, to do a strange cure upon this
    Gentleman.

    _Ladies._ In what we can assist you Madam, ye may command us.

    _Gond._ Now do I sit like a Conjurer within my circle, and these
    the Devils that are rais'd about me, I will pray that they may have
    no power upon me.

    _Oria._ Ladies, fall off in couples, then with a [s]oft still
    march, with low demeanors, charge this Gentleman, I'll be your
    Leader.

    _Gond._ Let me be quarter'd Duke quickly, I can endure it: these
    women long for Mans flesh, let them have it.

    _Duke._ Count, have you ever seen so strange a passion? what would
    this fellow do, if he should find himself in bed with a young Lady?

    _Count._ 'Faith my Lord, if he could get a knife, sure he wou'd cut
    her throat, or else he wou'd do as _Hercules_ did by _Lycas_, swing
    out her soul: h'as the true hate of a woman in him.

    _Oria._ Low with your Cursies Ladies.

    _Gond._ Come not too near me, I have a breath will poison ye,
    my lungs are rotten, and my stomach is raw: I am given much to
    belching: hold off, as you love sweet airs; Ladies, by your first
    nights pleasure, I conjure you, as you wou'd have your Husbands
    proper men, strong backs, and little legs, as you would have 'em
    hate your Waiting-women.

    _Oria._ Sir, we must court ye, till we have obtain'd some little
    favour from those gracious eyes, 'tis but a kiss a piece.

    _Gond._ I pronounce perdition to ye all; ye are a parcel of that
    damned crew that fell down with _Lucifer_, and here ye staid on
    earth to plague poor men; vanish, avaunt, I am fortified against
    your charms; heaven grant me breath and patience.

    _1 Lady._ Shall we not kiss then?

    _Gond._ No sear my lips with hot irons first, or stitch them up
    like a Ferrets: oh that this brunt were over!

    _2 Lady._ Come, come, little rogue, thou art too maidenly by my
    troth, I think I must box thee till thou be'st bolder; the more
    bold, the more welcome: I prethee kiss me, be not afraid.      [_She
    sits on his knee._

    _Gond._ If there be any here, that yet have so much of the fool
    left in them, as to love their mothers, let them [looke] on her,
    and loath them too.

    _2 Lady._ What a slovenly little villain art thou, why dost thou
    not stroke up thy hair? I think thou ne'er comb'st it: I must have
    it lie in better order; so, so, so, let me see thy hands, are they
    wash'd?

    _Gond._ I would th[e]y were loose for thy sake.

    _Duke._ She tortures him admirably.

    _Count._ The best that ever was.

    _2 Lady._ Alas, how cold they are, poor golls, why dost thee not
    get thee a Muff?

    _Arri._ Madam, here's an old Countrey Gentlewoman at the door, that
    came nodding up for justice, she was with the Lord _Gondarino_ to
    day, and would now again come to the speech of him, she says.

    _Oria._ Let her in, for sports sake, let her in.

    _Gond._ Mercy, oh Duke, I do appeal to thee: plant Canons there,
    and discharge them against my breast rather: nay, first let this
    she-fury sit still where she does, and with her nimble fingers
    stroke my hair, play with my fingers ends, or any thing, until my
    panting heart have broke my breast.

    _Duke._ You must abide her censure. [_The Lady rises from his knee._

                        _Enter old Gentlewoman._

    _Gond._ I see her come, unbutton me, for she will speak.

    _Gentlew._ Where is he Sir?

    _Gond._ Save me, I hear her.

    _Ar._ There he is in state to give you audience.

    _Gentlew._ How does your [good] Lordship?

    _Gond._ Sick of the spleen.

    _Gentlew._ How?

    _Gond._ Sick.

    _Gentlew._ Will you chew a Nutmeg, you shall not refuse it, it is
    very comfortable.

    _Gond._ Nay, now thou art come, I know it
    Is the Devils Jubile, Hell is broke loose:
    My Lord, if ever I have done you service,
    Or have deserv'd a favour of your Grace,
    Let me be turn'd upon some present action,
    Where I may sooner die, than languish thus;
    Your Grace hath her petition, grant it her, and ease me now at last.

    _Duke._ No Sir, you must endure.

    _Gentlew._ For my petition, I hope your Lordship hath remembred me.

    _Oria._ 'Faith I begin to pity him, _Arrigo_, take her off, bear
    her away, say her petition is granted.

    _Gentlew._ Wh[i]ther do you draw me Sir? I know it is not my Lords
    pleasure I should be thus used, before my business be dispatched?

    _Arr._ You shall know more of that without.

    _Oria._ Unbind him Ladies, but before he go, this he shall promise;
    for the love I bear to our own sex, I would have them still hated
    by thee, and injoyn thee as a punishment, never hereafter willingly
    to come in the presence, or sight of any woman, nor never to seek
    wrongfully the publick disgrace of any.

    _Gond._ 'Tis that I would have sworn, and do: when I [meddle] with
    them, for their good, or their bad; may Time [call] back this day
    again, and when I come in their companies, may I catch the pox, by
    their breath, and have no other pleasure for it.

    _Duke._ Ye are [too] merciful.

    _Oria._ My Lord, I shew'd my sex the better.

    _Gond._ All is over-blown Sister: y'are like to have a fair night
    of it, and a Prince in your Arms: let's goe my Lord.

    _Duke._ Thus through the doubtful streams of joy and grief, True
    Love doth wade, and finds at last relief.           [_Exeunt omnes._




NICE VALOUR.

A Comedy.


The Persons represented in the Play.

  Duke _of_ Genova.
  Shamont _his Favourite, a superstitious lover of reputation._
  A passionate Lord, _the Duke's distracted kinsman._
  A Soldier, _brother to_ Shamont.
  Lapet, _the cowardly Monsieur of_ Nice Valour.
  A Gallant _of the same Temper._
  Pultrot,   }  _Two Mushroom_
  Mombazon,  }  _Courtiers._
  Two Brothers _to the Lady, affecting the passionate Lord_.
  Four Courtiers.
  Jester.
  A Priest   }  _In a Masque._
  Six Women  }
  Galoshio, _a Clown, such another try'd piece of Man's flesh_.

                                  WOMEN.

  Lady, _Sister to the Duke_, Shamont's _beloved_.
  Lapet's _Wife_.
  A Lady, _personating_ Cupid, _Mistriss to the mad Lord_.

                           The Scene Genova.




The PROLOGUE at the reviving of this Play.


    _It's grown in fashion of late in these days,_
    _To come and beg a suff[eranc]e to our Plays_
    _'Faith Gentlemen, our Poet ever writ_
    _Language so good, mixt with such sprightly wit,_
    _He made the Theatre so Sovereign_
    _With his rare Scænes, he scorn'd this crouching vein:_
    _We stabb'd him with keen daggers when we pray'd_
    _Him write a Preface to a Play well made._
    _He could not write these toyes, 'tw[a]s easier far,_
    _To bring a Felon to appear at th' Barr_
    _So much he hated baseness; which this day,_
    _His Scænes will best convince you of in's Play._




_Actus Primus. Scæna Prima._


             _Enter Duke_, Shamount, _and four Gentlemen_.

    _Duke. Shamount_, welcome; we have mist thee long,
    Though absent but two days: I hope your sports
    Answer your time and wishes.

    _Sham._ Very nobly Sir;
    We found game, worthy your delight my Lord,
    It was so royal.

    _Duke._ I've enough to hear on't.
    Prethee bestow't upon me in discourse.

    _1 Gent._ What is this Gentleman, Coz? you are a Courtier,
    Therefore know all their insides.

    _2 Gent._ No farther than the Taffaty goes, good Coz.
    For the most part, which is indeed the best part
    Of the most general inside; marry thus far
    I can with boldness speak this one mans character,
    And upon honor, pass it for a true one;
    He has that strength of manly merit in him,
    That it exceeds his Sovereigns power of gracing;
    He's faithfully true to valour, that he hates
    The man from _Cæsar's_ time, or farther off,
    That ever took disgrace unreveng'd:
    And if he chance to read his abject story,
    He tears his memory out; and holds it virtuous,
    Not to let shame have so much life amongst us;
    There is not such a curious piece of courage
    Amongst mans fellowship, or one so jealous
    Of honors loss, or repu[t]ations glory:
    There's so much perfect of his growing story.

    _1 Gent._ 'Twould make one dote on virtue as you tell it.

    _2 Gent._ I have told it to much loss, believe it Coz.

    _3 Gent._ How the Duke graces him! what is he brother?

    _4 Gent._ Do you not yet know him? a vain-glorious coxcomb,
    As proud as he that fell for't:
    Set but aside his valour, no virtue,
    Which is indeed, not fit for any Courtier;
    And we his fellows are as good as he,
    Perhaps as capable of favour too,
    For one thing or another, if 'twere look'd into:
    Give me a man, were I a Sovereign now
    Has a good stroke [a]t _Tennis_, and a stiff one,
    Can play at _Æquinoctium_ with the Line,
    As even, as the thirteenth of _September_,
    When day and night lie in a scale together:
    Or may I thrive, as I deserve at _Billiards_;
    No otherwise at _Chesse_, or at _Primero_:
    These are the parts requir'd, why not advanc'd?

    _Duke._ Trust me, it was no less than excellent pleasure,
    And I'm right glad 'twas thine. How fares our kinsman?
    Who can resolve us best?

    1 _Gent._ I can my Lord.

    _Duke._ There, if I had a pity without bounds,
    It might be all bestowed----A man so lost
    In the wild ways of passion, that he's sensible
    Of nought, but what torments him?

    _1 Gent._ True my Lord,
    He runs through all the Passions of mankind,
    And shifts 'em strangely too: one while in love,
    And that so violent, that for want of business,
    He'll court the very Prentice of a Laundress,
    Though she have kib'd heels: and in's melancholly agen,
    He will not brook an Empress though thrice fairer
    Than ever _Maud_ was; or higher spirited
    Than _Cleopatra_, or your _English_ Countess:
    Then on a suddain he's so merry again,
    Out-laughs a Waiting-woman before her first Child:
    And turning of a hand, so angry--
    Has almost beat the Northern fellow blind;
    That is for that use only; if that mood hold my Lord,
    Had need of a fresh man; I'll undertake,
    He shall bruise three a month.

    _Duke._ I pity him dearly:
    And let it be your charge, with his kind brother
    To see his moods observ'd; let every passion
    Be fed ev'n to a surfet, which in time
    May breed a loathing: let him have enough
    Of every object, that his sence is wrapt with;
    And being once glutted, then the taste of folly
    Will come into his rellish.                                 [_Exit._

    _1 Gent._ I shall see
    Your charge my Lord, most faith[fully] effected:
    And how does noble _Shamount_?

    _Sham._ Never ill man
    Until I hear of baseness, then I sicken:
    I am the healthfull'st man i'th' kingdom else.

                             _Enter_ Lapet.

    _1 Gent._ Be armed then for a fit,
    Here comes a fellow
    Will make you sick at heart, if baseness do't.

    _Sha._ Let me be gone: what is he?

    _1 Gent._ Let me tell you first,
    It can be but a qualm: pray stay it out Sir,
    Come, y'ave born more than this.

    _Sha._ Born? never any thing
    That was injurious.

    _2 Gent._ Ha, I am far from that.

    _Sham._ He looks as like a man as I have seen one:
    What would you speak of him? speak well I prethee,
    Even for humanities cause.

    _1 Gent._ You'd have it truth though?

    _Sham._ What else Sir? I have no reason to wrong heav'n
    To favour nature; let her bear her own shame
    If she be faulty.

    _1 Gent._ Monstrous faulty there Sir.

    _Sham._ I'm ill at ease already.

    _1 Gent._ Pray bear up Sir.

    _Sham._ I prethee let me take him down with speed then;
    Like a wild object that I would not look upon.

    _1 Gent._ Then thus: he's one that will endure as much
    As can be laid upon him.

    _Sham._ That may be noble:
    I'm kept too long from his acquaintance.

    _1 Gent._ Oh Sir,
    Take heed of rash repentance, y'are too forward
    To find out virtue where it never setl'd:
    Take the particulars first, of what he endures;
    _Videlicet_, Bastinadoes by the great.

    _Sham._ How!

    _1 Gent._ Thumps by the dozen, and your kicks by wholesale.

    _Sham._ No more of him.

    _1 Gent._ The twinges by the nostril he snuffs up,
    And holds it the best remedy for sneezing.

    _Sham._ Away.

    _1 Gent._ H'as been thrice switch'd from 7 a clock till 9.
    Yet with a Cart-Horse stomach, fell to breakfast;
    Forgetful of his smart.

    _Sham._ Nay, the disgrace on't;
    There's no smart but that: base things are felt
    More by their shames than hurts, Sir. I know you not.
    But that you live an injury to nature:
    I'm heartily angry with you.

    _Lap._ Pray give your blow or kick, and begone then:
    For I ne'er saw you before; and indeed,
    Have nothing to say to you, for I know you not.

    _Sham._ Why wouldst thou take a blow?

    _Lap._ I would not Sir,
    Unless 'twere offer'd me; and if from an enemy--
    I'd be loth to deny it from a stranger.

    _Sham._ What, a blow?
    Endure a blow? and shall he live that gives it?

    _Lap._ Many a fair year----why not Sir?

    _Sham._ Let me wonder!
    As full a man to see to, and as perfect--
    I prethee live not long--

    _Lap._ How?

    _Sham._ Let me intreat it:
    Thou dost not know what wrong thou dost mankind,
    To walk so long here; not to dye betimes.
    Let me advise thee, while thou hast to live here,
    Ev'n for man's honour sake, take not a blow more.

    _Lap._ You should advise them not to strike me then Sir,
    For I'll take none I assure you, 'less they are given.

    _Sham._ How fain would I preserve mans form from shame
    And cannot get it done! however Sir,
    I charge thee live not long.

    _Lap._ This is worse than beating.

    _Sham._ Of what profession art thou, tell me Sir,
    Besides a Tailor? for I'll know the truth.

    _Lap._ A Tailor? I'm as good a Gentleman--
    Can shew my Arms and all.

    _Sham._ How black and blew they are!
    Is that your manifestation? upon pain
    Of pounding thee to dust, assume not wrongfully
    The name of Gentleman, because I'm one,
    That must not let thee live.

    _Lap._ I have done, I have done Sir.
    If there be any harm, beshrew the Herald,
    I'm sure I ha' not been so long a Gentleman,
    To make this anger: I have nothing no where,
    But what I dearly pay for.                                  [_Exit._

    _Sham._ Groom begone;
    I never was so heart-sick yet of man.

            _Enter Lady, the Duke's Sister_, Lapet's _wife_.

    _1 Gent._ Here comes a cordial, Sir, from th'other sex,
    Able to make a dying face look chearful.

    _Sham._ The blessedness of Ladies--.

    _Lady._ Y'are well met Sir.

    _Sham._ The sight of you has put an evil from me,
    Whose breath was able to make virtue sicken.

    _Lady._ I'm glad I came so fortunately. What was't Sir?

    _Sham._ A thing that takes a blow, lives, and eats after it,
    In very good health; you ha' not seen the like, Madam,
    A Monster worth your sixpence, lovely worth.

    [_1 Gent._] Speak low Sir; by all likely-hoods 'tis her Husband, Lady,
    That now bestow'd a visitation on me. Farewel Sir.          [_Exit._

    _Sham._ Husband? is't possible that he has a wife?
    Would any creature have him? 'tis some forc'd match,
    If he were not kick'd to th' Church o' th' wedding day,
    I'll never come at Court. Can be no otherwise:
    Perhaps he was rich, speak mistriss _Lapet_, was't not so?

    _Wife._ Nay, that's without all question.

    _Sh._ O ho, he would not want kickers enow then;
    If you are wise, I much suspect your honesty;
    For wisdom never fastens constantly,
    But upon merit: if you incline to fool,
    You are alike unfit for his society;
    Nay, if it were not boldness in the man
    That honors you, to advise you, troth his company
    Should not be frequent with you.

    _Wife._ 'Tis good counsel Sir.

    _Sham._ Oh, I am so careful where I reverence,
    So just to goodness, and her precious purity,
    I'm as equally jealous, and as fearful,
    That any undeserved stain might fall
    Upon her sanctified whiteness, as of the sin
    That comes by wilfulness.

    _Wife._ Sir, I love your thoughts,
    And honor you for your counsel and your care.

    _Sham._ We are your servants.

    _Wife._ He's but a Gentleman o'th' chamber; he might have kist me:
    Faith, where shall one find less courtesie, than at Court?
    Say I have an undeserver to my Husband:
    That's ne'er the worse for him: well strange lip'd men,
    'Tis but a kiss lost, there'll more come agen.              [_Exit._

         _Enter the passionate Lord, the Dukes kinsman, makes_
                     _a congie or two to nothing._

    _1 Gent._ Look, who comes here Sir, his love-fit's upon him:
    I know it, by that sett smile, and those congies.
    How courteous he's to nothing! which indeed,
    Is the next kin to woman; only shadow
    The elder Sister of the twain, because 'tis seen too.
    See how it kisses the fore-finger still;
    Which is the last edition, and being come
    So near the thumb, every Cobler has got it.

    _Sham._ What a ridiculous piece, humanity
    Here makes it self!

    _1 Gent._ Nay good give leave a little, Sir,
    Y'are so precise a manhood--

    _Sham._ It afflicts me
    When I behold unseemliness in an Image
    So near the Godhead, 'tis an injury
    To glorious Eternity.

    _1 Gent._ Pray use patience, Sir.

    _Pas._ I do confess it freely, precious Lady,
    And loves suit is so, the longer it hangs
    The worse it is; better cut off, sweet Madam;
    Oh, that same drawing in your neather Lip there,
    Fore-shews no goodness, Lady; make you question on't?
    Shame on me, but I love you.

    _1 Gent._ Who is't Sir,
    You are at all this pains for? may I know her?

    _Pas._ For thee thou fairest, yet the falsest woman,
    That ever broke man's heart-strings.

    _1 Gent._ How? how's this Sir?

    _Pas._ What the old trick of Ladies? man's apparel,
    Will't ne'er be left amongst you? steal from Court in't?

    _1 Gent._ I see the Fit grows stronger.

    _Pas._ Pray let's talk a little.

    _Sham._ I can endure no more.

    _1 Gent._ Good, let's alone a little:
    You are so exact a work: love light things somewhat, Sir.

    _Sham._ Th'are all but shames.

    _1 Gent._ What is't you'd say to me, Sir?

    _Pas._ Can you be so forgetful to enquire it Lady?

    _1 Gent._ Yes truely, Sir.

    _Pas._ The more I admire your flintiness:
    What cause have I given you, illustrious Madam,
    To play this strange part with me?

    _1 Gent._ Cause enough,
    Do but look back Sir, into your memory,
    Your love to other women, oh lewd man:
    'Tas almost kill'd my heart, you see I'm chang'd with it,
    I ha' lost the fashion of my Sex with grief on't,
    When I have seen you courting of a Dowdie;
    Compar'd with me, and kissing your fore-finger
    To one o'th' Black-Guards Mistresses: would not this
    Crack a poor Ladies heart, that believ'd love,
    And waited for the comfort? but 'twas said, Sir,
    A Lady of my hair cannot want pittying:
    The Countrey's coming up, farewel to you Sir.

    _Pas._ Whither intend you, Sir?

    _1 Gent._ A long journey, Sir:
    The truth is, I'm with child, and goe to travel.

    _Pas._ With child? I never got it.

    _1 Gent._ I heard you were busie
    At the same time, Sir, and was loth to trouble you.

    _Pas._ Why, are not you a whore then, excellent Madam?

    _1 Gent._ Oh by no means, 'twas done Sir in the state
    Of my belief in you, and that quits me;
    It lies upon your falshood.

    _Pas._ Does it so?
    You shall not carry her though Sir, she's my contract.

    _Sham._ I prethee, thou four Elements ill brued,
    Torment none but thy self; away I say
    Thou beast of passion, as the drunkard is
    The beast of Wine; dishonor to thy making,
    Thou man in fragments.

    _Pas._ Hear me, precious Madam.

    _Sham._ Kneel for thy wits to Heaven.

    _Pas._ Lady, I'll father it,
    Who e'er begot it: 'tis the course of greatness.

    _Sham._ How virtue groans at this!

    _Pas._ I'll raise the Court, but I'll stay your flight.

    _Sham._ How wretched is that piece!                [_Ex. Pas. Lord._

    _1 Gent._ He's the Dukes kinsman, Sir.

    _Sham._ That cannot take a passion away, Sir,
    Nor cut a Fit, but one poor hour shorter,
    He must endure as much as the poorest begger,
    That cannot change his money; there's th' equality
    In our impartial Essence:
    What's the news now?

                           _Enter a Servant._

    _Ser._ Your worthy brother, Sir, 'has left his charge,
    And come to see you.

                _Enter_ Shamount's _brother, a Soldier_.

    _Sham._ Oh the noblest welcome
    That ever came from man, meet thy deservings:
    Methinks I've all joyes treasure in mine arms now.

    _Sold._ You are so fortunate in prevention, brother,
    You always leave the answerer barren, Sir,
    You comprehend in few words so much worth--

    _Sham._ 'Tis all too little for thee: come th'art welcome,
    So I include all: take especial knowledge pray,
    Of this dear Gentleman, my absolute friend,
    That loves a Soldier far above a Mistriss,
    Thou excellently faithful to 'em both.
    But love to manhood, owns the purer troth.                [_Exeunt._




_Actus Secundus. Scæna Prima._


           _Enter_ Shamont's _brother, a Soldier and a Lady,_
                          _the Dukes Sister_.

    _Lady._ There should be in this Gallery--oh th'are here,
    Pray sit down, believe me Sir, I'm weary.

    _Sold._ It well becomes a Lady to complain a little
    Of what she never feels: your walk was short, Madam,
    You can be but afraid of weariness;
    Which well employs the softness of your Sex,
    As for the thing it self, you never came to't.

    _La._ You're wond'rously well read in Ladies, Sir.

    _Sold._ Shall I think such a creature as you Madam,
    Was ever born to feel pain, but in Travel?
    There's your full portion,
    Besides a little tooth-ach in the breeding,
    Which a kind Husband too, takes from you, Madam.

    _La._ But where do Ladies, Sir, find such kind Husbands?
    Perhaps you have heard
    The Rheumatick story of some loving Chandler now,
    Or some such melting fellow that you talk
    So prodigal of mens kindness: I confess Sir,
    Many of those wives are happy, their ambition
    Does reach no higher, than to Love and Ignorance,
    Which makes an excellent Husband, and a fond one:
    Now Sir, your great ones aim at height, and cunning,
    And so are oft deceiv'd, yet they must venture it;
    For 'tis a Ladies contumely, Sir,
    To have a Lord an Ignorant; then the worlds voice
    Will deem her for a wanton, e'r she taste on't:
    But to deceive a wise man, to whose circumspection,
    The world resigns it self, with all his envy;
    'Tis less dishonor to us [then] to fall,
    Because his believ'd wisdom keeps out all.

    _Sold._ Would I were the man, Lady, that should venture
    His wisdom to your goodness.

    _La._ You might fail
    In the return, as many men have done, Sir:
    I dare not justifie what is to come of me,
    Because I know it not, though I hope virtuously;
    Marry what's past, or present, I durst put
    Into a good mans hand, which if he take
    Upon my word for good, it shall not cozen him.

    _Sol._ No, nor hereafter?

    _La._ It may hap so too, Sir:
    A womans goodness, when she is a wife,
    Lies much upon a mans desert, believe it Sir,
    If there be fault in her, I'll pawn my life on't,
    'Tis first in him, if she were ever good,
    That makes one; knowing not a Husband yet,
    Or what he may be: I promise no more virtues,
    Than I may well perform, for that were cozenage.

    _Sol._ Happy were he that had you with all fears,
    That's my opinion, Lady.

              _Enter_ Shamount _and a servant list'ning_.

    _Serv._ What say you now, Sir?
    Dare you give confidence to your own eyes?

    _Sham._ Not yet I dare not.

    _Serv._ No?

    _Sham._ Scarce yet, or yet:
    Although I see 'tis he. Why can a thing,
    That's but my self divided, be so false?

    _Serv._ Nay, do but mark how the chair plays hi[s] part too:
    How amoro[u]sly 'tis bent.

    _Sh[a]m._ Hell take thy bad thoughts,
    For they are strange ones. Never take delight
    To make a torment worse. Look on 'em heaven,
    For that's a brother: send me a fair enemy,
    And take him; for a fouler Fiend there breathes not:
    I will not sin to think there's ill in her,
    But what's of his producing.
    Yet goodness, whose inclosure is but flesh,
    Holds out oft times but sorrily. But as black Sir,
    As ever kindred was: I hate mine own bloud,
    Because i[t] is so near thine. Live without honesty,
    And mayst thou dye with an unmoist'ned eye,
    And no tear follow thee.                  [_Ex._ Shamont, _Servant_.

    _La._ Y'are wond'rous merry Sir; I would your Brother heard you.

    _Sold._ Oh my Sister,
    I would not out o'th' way, let fall my words Lady,
    For the precisest humor.

                        _Enter passionate Lord._

    _Pas._ Yea, so close.

    _Sold._ Th'are merry, that's the worst you can report on 'em:
    Th'are neither dangerous, nor immodest.

    _Pas._ So Sir,
    Shall I believe you, think you?

    _Sold._ Who's this Lady?

    _La._ Oh the Dukes Cosin, he came late from travel, Sir.

    _Sold._ Respect belongs to him.

    _Pas._ For as I said, Lady,
    Th'are merry, that's the worst you can report of 'em:
    Th'are neither dangerous, nor immodest.

    _Sold._ How's this?

    _Pas._ And there I think I left.

    _Sold._ Abuses me.

    _Pas._ Now to proceed, Lady; perhaps I swore I lov'd you,
    If you believe me not, y'are much the wiser.

    _Sold._ He speaks still in my person, and derides me.

    _Pas._ For I can cog with you.

    _La._ You can all do so:
    We make no question of mens promptness that way.

    _Pas._ And smile, and wave a chair with comely grace too,
    Play with our Tastle gently, and do fine things,
    That catch a Lady sooner than a virtue.

    _Sold._ I never us'd to let man live so long
    That wrong'd me.

    _Pas._ Talk of Battalions, wooe you in a skirmish;
    Divine my mind to you Lady; and being sharp set,
    Can court you at Half pike: or name your weapon,
    We cannot fail you Lady.

                          _Enter 1 Gentleman._

    _Sold._ Now he dies:
    Were all succeeding hopes stor'd up within him.

    _1 Gent._ Oh fie, i'th' Court, Sir?

    _Sold._ I most dearly thank you; Sir.

    _1 Gent._ 'Tis rage ill spent upon a passionate mad man.

    _Sold._ That shall not priviledge him for ever, Sir:
    A mad man call you him? I have found too much reason
    Sound in his injury to me, to believe him so.

    _1 Gent._ If ever truth from mans lips may be held
    In reputation with you, give this confidence;
    And this his Love-fit, which we observe still,
    By's flattering and his fineness: at some other time,
    He'll go as slovenly as heart can wish.
    The love and pity that his Highness shews to him,
    Makes every man the more respectful of him:
    Has never a passion, but is well provided for,
    As this of Love, he is full fed in all
    His swinge, as I may tearm it: have but patience,
    And ye shall witness somewhat.

    _Sold._ Still he mocks me:
    Look you, in action, in behaviour, Sir;
    Hold still the chair, with a grand mischief to you,
    Or I'll let so much strength upon your heart, Sir--

    _Pas._ I feel some power has restrain'd me Lady:
    If it be sent from Love, say, I obey it,
    And ever keep a voice to welcome it.

                        SONG.

        _Thou Deity, swift winged Love,_
        _Sometimes below, sometimes above,_
        _Little in shape, but great in power,_
        _Thou that mak'st a heart thy Tower,_
        _And thy loop-holes Ladies eyes,_
        _From whence thou strik'st the fond and wise._
        _Did all the Shafts in thy fair Quiver_
        _Stick fast in my ambitious Liver;_
        _Yet thy power would I adore._
        _And call upon thee to shoot more,_
                              _Shoot more, shoot more._

         _Enter one like a_ Cupid, _offering to shoot at him_.

    _Pas._ I prethee hold though, sweet Celestial boy;
    I'm not requited yet with love enough,
    For the first Arrow that I have within me;
    And if thou be an equal Archer _Cupid_,
    Shoot this Lady, and twenty more for me.

    _La._ Me Sir?

    _1 Gent._ 'Tis nothing but device, fear it not Lady;
    You may be as good a Maid after that shaft, Madam,
    As e'er your mother was at twelve and a half:
    'Tis like the boy that draws it, 'tas no sting yet.

    _Cup._ 'Tis like the miserable Maid that draws it--_Aside._
    That sees no comfort yet, seeing him so passionate.

    _Pas._ Strike me the Duchess of _Valois_ in love with me,
    With all the speed thou canst, and two of her Women.

    _Cu._ You shall have more.                                  [_Exit._

    _Pas._ Tell 'em I tarry for 'em.

    _1 Gent._ Who would be angry with that walking trouble now?
    That hurts none but it self?

    _Sold._ I am better quieted.

    _Pas._ I'll have all women-kind struck in time for me
    After thirteen once:
    I see this _Cupid_ will not let me want,
    And let him spend his forty shafts an hour,
    They shall be all found from the Dukes Exchequer;
    He's come already.

    _Enter again the same_ Cupid, _two Brothers, six Women Maskers_,
        Cupid's _Bow bent all the way towards them, the first woman
        singing and playing, a Priest_.

                SONG.

        _Oh turn thy bow,_
        _Thy power we feel and know,_
        _Fair_ Cupid _turn away thy Bow:_
        _They be those golden Arrows,_
        _Bring Ladies all their sorrows,_
        _And till there be more truth in men,_
        _Never shoot at Maid agen._

    _Pas._ What a felicity of whores are here!
    And all my Concubines struck bleeding new:
    A man can in his life time make but one woman,
    But he may make his fifty Queans a month.

    _Cu._ Have you remembred a Priest, honest brothers?

    _1 Bro._ Yes Sister, and this is the young Gentleman,
    Make you no question of our faithfulness.

    _2 Bro._ His growing shame, Sister, provokes our care:

    _Priest._ He must be taken in this fit of Love, Gentlemen.

    _1 Bro._ What else Sir, he shall do't.

    _2 Bro._ Enough.

    _1 Bro._ Be chearful wench.             [_A dance._ Cupid _leading_.

    _Pas._ Now by the stroke of pleasure, a deep oath,
    Nimbly hopt Ladies all; what height they bear too!
    A story higher than your common statures;
    A little man must go up stairs to kiss 'em:
    What a great space there is
    Betwixt Loves Dining Chamber, and his Garret!
    I'll try the utmost height--the Garret stoops methinks;
    The rooms are made all bending, I see that,
    And not so high as a man takes 'em for.

    _Cu._ Now if you'll follow me Sir, I've that power,
    To make them follow you.

    _Pas._ Are they all shot?

    _Cu._ All, all Sir, every mothers daughter of 'em.

    _Pas._ Then there's no fear of following; if they be once shot
    They'll follow a man to th' devil--As for you, Sir--

                                  [_Ex. with the Lady and the Masquers._

    _Sold._ Me Sir?

    _1 Gent._ Nay sweet Sir.

    _Sold._ A noise, a threatening, did you not hear it Sir?

    _1 Gent._ Without regard, Sir, so would I hear you.

    _Sold._ This must come to something, never talk of that Sir.
    You never saw it otherwise.

    _1 Gent._ Nay dear merit--

    _Sold._ Me above all men?

    _1 Gent._ Troth you wrong your anger.

    _Sold._ I will be arm'd, my honourable Letcher.

    _1 Gent._ Oh fie sweet Sir.

    _Sold._ That devours womens honesties by lumps,
    And never chaw'st thy pleasure:

    _2 Gent._ What do you mean, Sir?

    _Sold._ What does he mean t'ingross all to himself?
    There's others love a whore as well as he Sir.

    _1 Gent._ Oh, if that be part o' th' fury, we have a City
    Is very well provided for that case;
    Let him alone with her, Sir, we have Women
    Are very charitable to proper men,
    And to a Soldier that has all his limbs;
    Marry the sick and lame gets not a penny:
    Right womens charity, and the Husbands follow't too:
    Here comes his Highness Sir.

                        _Enter Duke and Lords._

    _Sold._ I'll walk to cool my self.                          [_Exit._

    _Duke._ Who's that?

    _1 Gent._ The brother of _Shamont_.

    _Duke._ He's Brother then
    To all the Courts love, they that love discreetly,
    And place their friendliness upon desert:
    As for the rest, that with a double face
    Look upon merit much like fortunes visage,
    That looks two ways, both to life's calms and storms,
    I'll so provide for him, chiefly for him,
    He shall not wish their loves, nor dread their envies.
    And here comes my _Shamont_.

                            _Enter_ Shamont.

    _Sham._ That Ladies virtues are my only joyes,
    And he to offer to lay siege to them?

    _Duke. Shamont._

    _Sham._ Her goodness is my pride: in all discourses,
    As often as I hear rash tongu'd gallants,
    Speak rudely of a woman, presently
    I give in but her name, and th'are all silent:
    Oh who would loose this benefit?

    _Duke._ Come hither Sir.

    _Sham._ 'Tis like the Gift of Healing, but Diviner;
    For that but cures diseases in the body,
    This works a cure on Fame, on Reputation:
    The noblest piece of Surgery upon earth.

    _Duke. Shamont_; he minds me not.

    _Sham._ A Brother do't?

    _Duke. Shamont_ I say.         [_Gives him a touch with his switch._

    _Sham._ Ha?
    If he be mortal, by this hand he perishes;                 [_Draws._
    Unless it be a stroke from heaven, he dies for't.

    _Duke._ Why, how now Sir? 'twas I.

    _Sham._ The more's my misery.

    _Duke._ Why, what's the matter prethee?

    _Sham._ Can you ask it, Sir?
    No man else should; stood forty lives before him,
    By this I would have op'd my way to him;
    It could not be you Sir, excuse him not,
    What e'er he be, as y'are dear to honor,
    That I may find my peace agen.

    _Duke._ Forbear I say,
    Upon my love to truth, 'twas none but I.

    _Sham._ Still miserable?

    _Duke._ Come, come, what ails you Sir?

    _Sham._ Never sate shame cooling so long upon me,
    Without a satisfaction in revenge,
    And heaven has made it here a sin to wish it.

    _Duke._ Hark you Sir!

    _Sham._ Oh y'ave undone me.

    _Duke._ How?

    _Sham._ Cruelly undone me;
    I have lost my peace and reputation by you:
    Sir, pardon me, I can never love you more.                  [_Exit._

    _Duke._ What language call you this Sirs?

    _1 Gent._ Truth my Lord, I've seldom heard a stranger--

    _2 Gent._ He is a man of a most curious valour,
    Wondrous precise, and punctual in that virtue.

    _Duke._ But why to me so punctual? my last thought
    Was most intirely fixt on his advancement
    Why, I came now to put him in possession
    Of his fair fortunes: what a mis-conceiver 'tis!
    And from a Gentleman of our Chamber meerly,
    Made him Vice-Admiral: I was setled in't.
    I love him next to health: call him Gentlemen;
    Why would not you, or you, ha' taken as much,
    And never murmur'd?                                  [_Exit 1 Gent._

    _2 Gent._ Troth, I think we should, my Lord,
    And there's a fellow walks about the Court,
    Would take a hundred of 'em.

    _Duke._ I hate you all for't,
    And rather praise his high pitch'd fortitude,
    Though in extreams for niceness: now I think on't,
    I would I had never done't--Now Sir, where is he?

                          _Enter 1 Gentleman._

    _1 Gent._ His sute is only Sir, to be excus'd.

    _Duke._ He shall not be excus'd, I love him dearlier:
    Say we intreat him; goe, he must not leave us [_Exit two Gentlemen._
    So virtue bless me, I ne'er knew him paralell'd;
    Why, he's more precious to me now, than ever.

                  _Enter two Gentlemen, and_ Shamont.

    _2 Gent._ With much fair language w'ave brought him.

    _Duke._ Thanks----Where is he?

    _2 Gent._ Yonder Sir.

    _Duke._ Come forward man.

    _Sham._ Pray pardon me, I'm asham'd to be seen Sir.

    _Duke._ Was ever such a touchie man heard of?
    Prethee come nearer.

    _Sham._ More into the light?
    Put not such cruelty into your requests my Lord,
    First to disgrace me publickly, and then draw me
    Into mens eye-sight, with the shame yet hot
    Upon my reputation.

    _Duke._ What disgrace, Sir?

    _Sham._ What?
    Such as there can be no forgiveness for,
    That I can find in honour.

    _Duke._ That's most strange, Sir.

    _Sham._ Yet I have search'd my bosom to find one,
    And wrestled with my inclination,
    But 'twill not be: would you had kill'd me Sir.
    With what an ease had I forgiven you then!
    But to endure a stroke from any hand
    Under a punishing Angel, which is justice,
    Honor disclaim that man, for my part chiefly:
    Had it been yet the malice of your sword,
    Though it had cleft me, 't had been noble to me;
    You should have found my thanks paid in a smile
    If I had fell unworded; but to shame me,
    With the correction that your horse should have,
    Were you ten thousand times my royal Lord,
    I cannot love you never, nor desire to serve you more.
    If your drum call me, I am vowed to valour,
    But peace shall never know me yours agen,
    Because I've lost mine own, I speak to dye Sir;
    Would you were gracious that way to take off shame,
    With the same swiftness as you pour it on:
    And since it is not in the power of Monarchs
    To make a Gentleman, which is a substance
    Only begot of merit, they should be careful
    Not to destroy the worth of one so rare,
    Which neither they can make; nor lost, repair.              [_Exit._

    _Duke._ Y'ave set a fair light Sir before my judgement,
    Which burns with wondrous clearness; I acknowledge it,
    And your worth with it: but then Sir, my love,
    My love--what gone agen?

    _1 Gen._ And full of scorn, my Lord.

    _Duke._ That language will undoe the man that keeps it.
    Who knows no diff'rence 'twixt contempt and manhood.
    Upon your love to goodness, Gentlemen,
    Let me not lose him long: how now?

                          _Enter a Huntsman._

    _Hunts._ The game's at height my Lord.

    _Duke._ Confound both thee and it: hence break it off;
    He hates me brings me news of any pleasure:
    I felt not such a conflict since I cou'd;
    Distinguish betwixt worthiness and bloud.                     [_Ex._




_Actus Tertius. Scæna Prima._


         _Enter the two Brothers, 1 Gentleman, with those that_
                  _were the Masquers, and the_ Cupid.

    _1 Gent._ I heartily commend your project, Gentlemen,
    'Twas wise and virtuous.

    _1 Bro._ 'Twas for the safety
    Of precious honour Sir, which near bloud binds us to:
    He promis'd the poor easie fool there, marriage,
    There was a good Maiden-head lost i'th' belief on't,
    Beshrew her hasty confidence.

    _1 Gent._ Oh no more, Sir,
    You make her weep agen; alas poor _Cupid_:
    Shall she not shift her self?

    _1 Bro._ Oh by no means Sir:
    We dare not have her seen yet, all the while
    She keeps this shape, 'tis but thought device,
    And she may follow him so without suspition,
    To see if she can draw all his wild passions,
    To one point only, and that's love, the main point:
    So far his Highness grants, and gave at first,
    Large approbation to the quick conceit,
    Which then was quick indeed.

    _1 Gent._ You make her blush insooth.

    _1 Bro._ I fear 'tis more the flag of shame, than grace Sir.

    _1 Gent._ They both give but one kind of colour, Sir:
    If it be bashfulness in that kind taken,
    It is the same with grace; and there she weeps agen.
    In truth y'are too hard, much, much too bitter Sir,
    Unless you mean to have her weep her eyes out,
    To play a _Cupid_ truly.

    _1 Bro._ Come ha' done then:
    We should all fear to sin first; for 'tis certain,
    When 'tis once lodg'd, though entertain'd in mirth,
    It must be wept out, if it e'er come forth.

    _1 Gent._ Now 'tis so well, I'll leave you.

    _1 Bro._ Faithfully welcome, Sir,
    Go _Cupid_ to your charge; he's your own now;
    If he want love, none will be blam'd but you.

    _Cu._ The strangest marriage, and unfortunat'st Bride
    That ever humane memory contain'd;
    I cannot be my self for't.                                  [_Exit._

                           _Enter the Clown._

    _Clow._ Oh Gentlemen?

    _1 Bro._ How now, Sir, what's the matter?

    _Clo._ His melancholly passion is half spent already,
    Then comes his angry fit at the very tail on't,
    Then comes in my pain, gentlemen; h'as beat me e'en to a
    Cullis. I am nothing, right worshipful, but very pap,
    And jelly: I have no bones, my body's all one business,
    They talk of ribs and chines most freely abroad i'th' world,
    Why, I have no such thing; who ever lives to see me dead,
    Gentlemen, shall find me all mummie good to fill Gallipots,
    And long dildo glasses: I shall not have a bone to throw
    At a dog.

    _Omnes._ Alas poor vassal; how he goes!

    _Clo._ Oh Gentlemen,
    I am unjoynted, do but think o' that:
    My breast is beat into my maw, that what I eat,
    I am fain to take't in all at mouth with spoons;
    A lamentable hearing; and 'tis well known, my belly
    Is driven into my back.
    I earn'd four Crowns a month most dearly Gentlemen,
    And one he must have when the fit's upon him,
    The Privy-purse allows it, and 'tis thriftiness,
    He would break else s[o]me forty pounds in Casements,
    And in five hundred years undo the Kingdom:
    I have cast it up to a quarrel.

    _1 Bro._ There's a fellow kickt about Court, I would
    He had his place, brother, but for one fit of his indignation.

    _2 Bro._ And suddainly I have thought upon a means for't.

    _1 Bro._ I prethee how?

    _2 Bro._ 'Tis but preferring, Brother
    This stockfish to his service, with a Letter
    Of commendations, the same way he wishes it,
    And then you win his heart: for o' my knowledge
    He has laid wait this half year for a fellow
    That will be beaten, and with a safe conscience
    We may commend the carriage of this man in't;
    Now servants he has kept, lusty tall feeders,
    But they have beat him, and turn'd themselves away:
    Now one that would endure, is like to stay,
    And get good wages of him; and the service too
    Is ten times milder, Brother, I would not wish it else.
    I see the fellow has a sore crush'd body,
    And the more need he has to be kick'd at ease.

    _Clow._ I sweet Gentlemen, a kick of ease, send me to such a Master.

    _2 Bro._ No more I say, we have one for thee, a soft footed Master,
    One that wears wooll in's toes.

    _Clow._ Oh Gentlemen, soft garments may you wear,
    Soft skins may you wed,
    But as plump as pillows, both for white and red.
    And now will I reveal a secret to you,
    Since you provide for my poor flesh so tenderly,
    Has hir'd meer rogues out of his chamber window,
    To beat the Soldier, Monsieur _Shamont_'s Brother:

    _1 Bro._ That nothing concerns us, Sir.

    _Clow._ For no cause, Gentlemen,
    Unless it be for wearing Shoulder-points,
    With longer taggs than his.

    _2 Bro._ Is not that somewhat?
    Birlakin Sir, the difference of long taggs,
    Has cost many a man's life, and advanc'd other some,
    Come follow me.

    _Clow._ See what a gull am I:
    Oh every man in his profession;
    I know a thump now as judiciously,
    As the proudest he that walks, I'll except none;
    Come to a tagg, how short I fall! I'm gone                [_Exeunt._

                             _Enter_ Lapet.

    _Lap._ I have been ruminating with my self,
    What honor a man loses by a kick:
    Why; what's a kick? the fury of a foot,
    Whose indignation commonly is stampt
    Upon the hinder quarter of a man:
    Which is a place very unfit for honor,
    The world will confess so much:
    Then what disgrace I pray, does th[a]t part surfer
    Where honor never comes, I'de fain know that?
    This being well forc'd, and urg'd, may have the power
    To move most Gallants to take kicks in time,
    And spurn out the duelloes out o' th' kingdom,
    For they that stand upon their honor most,
    When they conceive there is no honor lost,
    As by a Table that I have invented
    For that purpose alone, shall appear plainly,
    Which shews the vanity of all blows at large.
    And with what ease they may be took of all sides,
    Numbring but twice o'er the Letters patience
    From _C. P._ to _E._ I doubt not but in small time
    To see a dissolution of all bloud-shed,
    If the reform'd _Kick_ do but once get up:
    For what a lamentable folly 'tis,
    If we observe't, for every little justle,
    Which is but the ninth part of a sound thump,
    In our meek computation, we must fight forsooth, yes,
    If I kill, I'm hang'd; if I be kill'd my self,
    I dye for't also: is not this trim wisdom?
    Now for the _Con_, a ma[n] may be well beaten,
    Yet pass away his fourscore years smooth after:
    I had a Father did it, and to my power
    I will not be behind him.

                            _Enter_ Shamont.

    _Sham._ Oh well met.

    _Lap._ Now a fine _punch_ or two, I look for't duly.

    _Sham._ I've been to seek you.

    _Lap._ Let me know your Lodging, Sir,
    I'll come to you once a day, and use your pleasure, Sir.

    _Sham._ I'm made the fittest man for thy society:
    I'll live and dye with thee, come shew me a chamber;
    There is no house but thine, but only thine,
    That's fit to cover me: I've took a blow, sirrah.

    _Lap._ I would you had indeed: why, you may see, Sir;
    You'll all come to't in time, when my Book's out.

    _Sham._ Since I did see thee last, I've took a blow.

    _Lap._ Pha Sir, that's nothing: I ha' took forty since.

    _Sham._ What? and I charg'd thee thou shouldst not?

    _Lap._ I Sir, you might charge your pleasure.
    But they would give't me, whether I would or no.

    _Sham._ Oh, I walk without my peace, I've no companion now;
    Prethee resolve me, for I cannot aske
    A man more beaten to experience,
    Than thou art in this kind, what manner of blow
    Is held the most disgraceful, or distasteful?
    For thou dost only censure 'em by the hurt,
    Not by the shame they do thee: yet having felt
    Abuses of all kinds, thou may'st deliver,
    Though't be by chance, the most injurious one.

    _Lap._ You put me to't, Sir; but to tell you truth,
    They're all as one with me, little exception.

    _Sham._ That little may do much, let's have it from you.

    _Lap._ With all the speed I may, first then, and foremost,
    I hold so reverently of the _Bastinado_, Sir,
    That if it were the dearest friend i'th' world,
    I'de put it into his hand.

    _Sham._ Go too, I'll pass that then.

    _Lap._ Y'are the more happy, Sir,
    Would I were past it too:
    But being accustom'd to't. It is the better carried.

    _Sham._ Will you forward?

    _Lap._ Then there's your _souce_, your _wherit_ and your _dowst_,
    _Tugs_ on the hair, your _bob_ o'th' lips, a whelp on't,
    I ne'er could find much difference: Now your _thump_,
    A thing deriv'd first from your Hemp-beaters,
    Takes a mans wind away, most spitefully:
    There's nothing that destroys a Collick like it,
    For't leaves no wind i'th' body.

    _Sham._ On Sir, on.

    _Lap._ Pray give me leave, I'm out of breath with thinking on't.

    _Sham._ This is far off yet.

    _Lap._ For the _twinge_ by th' nose,
    'Tis certainly unsightly, so my [Table] says,
    But helps against the head-ach, wond'rous strangely.

    _Sham._ Is't possible?

    _Lap._ Oh your _crush'd nostrils_ slakes your _opilation_,
    And makes your pent powers flush to wholsome sneezes.

    _Sham._ I never thought there had been half that virtue
    In a wrung nose before.

    _Lap._ Oh plenitude, Sir:
    Now come we lower to our _modern Kick_,
    Which has been mightily in use of late,
    Since our young men drank _Coltsfoot_: and I grant you,
    'Tis a most scornful wrong, cause the foot plays it;
    But mark agen, how we that take't, requite it
    With the like scorn, for we receive it backward;
    And can there be a worse disgrace retorted?

    _Sham._ And is this all?

    _Lap._ All but a _Lug by th' ear_,
    Or such a trifle.

    _Sham._ Happy sufferer,
    All this is nothing to the wrong I bear:
    I see the worst disgrace, thou never felt'st yet;
    It is so far from thee tho[u] canst not think on't;
    Nor dare I let thee know, it is so abject.

    _Lap._ I would you would though, that I might prepare for't
    For I shall ha't at one time or another:
    If't be a _thwack_, I make account of that;
    There's no new fashion'd swap that e'er came up yet,
    But I've the first on 'em, I thank 'em for't.

                     _Enter the Lady and Servants._

    _La._ Hast thou enquir'd?

    _1 Serv._ But can hear nothing, Madam.

    _Sham._ If there be but so much substance in thee
    To make a shelter for a man disgrac'd,
    Hide my departure from that glorious woman
    That comes with all perfection about her:
    So noble, that I dare not be seen of her,
    Since shame took hold of me: upon thy life
    No mention of me.

    _Lap._ I'll cut out my tongue first,
    Before I'll loose my life, there's more belongs to't.

    _Lad._ See there's a Gentleman, enquire of him.

    _2 Ser._ For Monsieur _Shamont_, Madam?

    _Lad._ For whom else, Sir?

    _1 Serv._ Why, this fellow dares not see him.

    _Lad._ How?

    _1 Serv. Shamont_, Madam?
    His very name's worse than a Feaver to him,
    And when he cries, there's nothing stills him sooner;
    Madam, your Page of thirteen is too hard for him,
    'Twas try'd i'th' wood-yard.

    _Lad._ Alas poor grieved Merit!
    What is become of him? if he once fail,
    Virtue shall find small friendship: farewel then
    To Ladies worths, for any hope in men,
    He lov'd for goodness, not for Wealth, or Lust,
    After the world's foul dotage, he ne'er courted
    The body, but the beauty of the mind,
    A thing which common courtship never thinks on:
    All his affections were so sweet and fair,
    There is no hope for fame if he despair.

                                                  [_Exit Lady and Serv._

                   _Enter the Clown. He kicks_ Lapet.

    _Lap._ Good morrow to you agen most heartily, Sir,
    Cry you mercy, I heard you not, I was somewhat busie.

    _Clow._ He takes it as familiarly, as an Ave,
    Or precious salutation: I was sick till I had one,
    Because I am so us'd to't.

    _Lap._ However you deserve, your friends and mine, here
    Give you large commendations i'this Letter,
    They say you will endure well.

    _Clow._ I'de be loath
    To prove 'em liers: I've endur'd as much
    As mortal pen and ink can set me down for.

    _Lap._ Say you me so?

    _Clow._ I know and feel it so, Sir,
    I have it under Black and White already;
    I need no Pen to paint me out.

    _Lap._ He fits me,
    And hits my wishes pat, pat: I was ne'er
    In possibility to be better mann'd,
    For he's half lam['d] already, I see't plain,
    But take no notice on't, for fear I make
    The rascal proud, and dear, to advance his wages;
    First, let me grow into particulars with you;
    What have you endured of worth? let me hear.

    _Clow._ Marry Sir, I'm almost beaten blind.

    _Lap._ That's pretty well for a beginning,
    But many a Mill-horse has endur'd as much.

    _Clow._ Shame o'th' Millers heart for his unkindness then.

    _Lap._ Well Sir, what then?

    _Clow._ I've been twice thrown down stairs, just before supper.

    _Lap._ Puh, so have I, that's nothing.

    _Clow._ I but Sir,
    Was yours pray before supper?

    _Lap._ There thou posest me.

    _Clow._ I marry, that's it, 't had been less grief to me,
    Had I but fill'd my belly, and then tumbled,
    But to be flung down fasting, there's the dolour.

    _Lap._ It would have griev'd me, that indeed: proceed Sir.

    _Clo._ I have been pluck'd and tugg'd by th' hair o'th' head
    About a Gallery, half an Acre long.

    _Lap._ Yes, that's a good one, I must needs confess,
    A principal good one that, an absolute good one,
    I have been trode upon, and spurn'd about,
    But never tugg'd by th' hair, I thank my fates.

    _Clow._ Oh 'tis a spiteful pain.

    _Lap._ Peace, never speak on't,
    For putting men in mind on't.

    _Clow._ To conclude,
    I'm bursten Sir: my belly will hold no meat.

    _Lap._ No? that makes amends for all.

    _Clow._ Unless 't be puddings,
    Or such fast food, any loose thing beguiles me, I'm ne'er the better
             for't.

    _Lap._ Sheeps-heads will stay with thee?

    _Clo._ Yes Sir, or Chaldrons.

    _Lap._ Very well sir:
    Your bursten fellows must take heed of surfets:
    Strange things it seems, you have endur'd;

    _Clo._ Too true Sir.

    _Lap._ But now the question is, what you will endure
    Hereafter in my service?

    _Clo._ Anything
    That shall be reason Sir, for I'm but froth;
    Much like a thing new calv'd, or come more nearer Sir,
    Y'ave seen a cluster of Frog-spawns in _April_,
    E'en such a starch am I, as weak and tender
    As a green woman yet.

    _Lap._ Now I know this,
    I will be very gently angry with thee,
    And kick thee carefully.

    _Clow._ Oh I, sweet Sir.

    _Lap._ Peace, when thou art offer'd well, lest I begin now.
    Your friends and mine have writ here for your truth,
    They'll pass their words themselves, and I must meet 'em.

    _Clow._ Then have you all:                                  [_Exit._
    As for my honesty, there is no fear of that,
    For I have ne'er a whole bone about me.                     [_Exit._

_Musick. Enter the passionate Cosin, rudely, and carelesly apparrell'd,_
           _unbrac'd, and untruss'd. The_ Cupid _following_.

    _Cup._ Think upon love, which makes all creatures handsome,
    Seemly for eye-sight; goe not so diffusedly,
    There are great Ladies purpose Sir to visit you.

    _Pas._ Grand plagues, shut in my casements, that the breaths
    Of their Coach-mares reek not into my nostrils;
    Those beasts are but a kind of bawdy fore-runners.

    _Cup._ It is not well with you,
    When you speak ill of fair Ladies.

    _Pas._ Fair mischiefs, give me a nest of Owls and take 'em;
    Happy is he, say I, whose window opens
    To a brown Bakers chimney, he shall be sure there
    To hear the Bird sometimes after twilight:
    What a fine thing 'tis methinks to have our garments
    Sit loose upon us thus, thus carelesly,
    It is more manly, and more mortifying;
    For we're so much the readier for our shrouds:
    For how ridiculous wer't, to have death come,
    And take a fellow, pinn'd up like a Mistriss!
    About his neck a Ruff, like a pinch'd Lanthorn,
    Which School-boys make in winter; and his doublet
    So close and pent, as if he fear'd one prison
    Would not be strong enough, to keep his soul in;
    But's Tailor makes another:
    And trust me; (for I know't when I lov'd _Cupid_,)
    He does endure much pain, for the poor praise
    Of a neat sitting suit.

    _Cup._ One may be handsome, Sir,
    And yet not pain'd, nor proud.

    _Pas._ There you lie _Cupid_,
    As bad as _Mercury_: there is no handsomness,
    But has a wash of Pride and Luxury,
    And you go there too _Cupid._ Away dissembler,
    Thou tak'st the deeds part, which befools us all;
    Thy Arrow heads shoot out sinners: hence away,
    And after thee I'll send a powerful charm,
    Shall banish thee for ever.

    _Cup._ Never, never,
    I am too sure thine own.                                    [_Exit._

                          Pas. Sings.

        _Hence all you vain Delights,_
        _As short as are the nights,_
            _Wherein you spend your folly,_
        _There's nought in this life sweet,_
        _If man were wise to see't_,
                    _But only melancholly,_
                    _Oh sweetest melancholly._
        _Welcome folded Arms, and fixed Eyes,_
        _A sigh that piercing mortifies,_
        _A look that's fastened to the ground,_
        _A tongue chain'd up without a sound._

        _Fountain heads, and pathless Groves,_
        _Places which pale passion loves:_
        _Moon-light walks, when all the Fowls_
        _Are warmly hous'd, save Bats and Owls;_
                    _A mid-night Bell, a parting groan,_
                    _These are the sounds we feed upon;_
        _Then stretch our bones in a still gloomy valley,_
        _Nothing's so dainty sweet, as lovely melancholly._     [_Exit._

        _Enter at another door_ Lapet, _the_ Cupid_'s Brothers_
                         _watching his coming_.

    _1 Bro._ So, so, the Woodcock's ginn'd;
    Keep this door fast brother.

    _2 Bro._ I'll warrant this.

    _1 Bro._ I'll goe incense him instantly;
    I know the way to't.

    _2 Bro._ Will't not be too soon think you,
    And make two fits break into one?

    _1 Bro._ Pah, no, no; the tail of his melancholy
    Is always the head of his anger, and follows as close,
    As the Report follows the powder.

    _Lap._ This is the appointed place, and the hour struck,
    If I can get security for's truth,
    I'll never mind his honesty, poor worm,
    I durst lay him by my wife, which is a benefit
    Which many Masters ha' not: I shall ha' no Maid
    Now got with child, but what I get my self,
    And that's no small felicity: in most places
    Th'are got by th' Men, and put upon the Masters,
    Nor shall I be resisted when I strike,
    For he can hardly stand; these are great blessings.

    _Pas._ I want my food, deliver me a Varlet.               [_Within._

    _Lap._ How now, from whence comes that?

    _Pas._ I am allow'd a carkass to insult on;
    Where's the villain?

    _Lap._ He means not me I hope.

    _Pas._ My maintenance rascals; my bulk, my exhibition.

    _[L]ap._ Bless us all,
    What names are these? Would I were gone agen.

         _The passionate man enters in fury with a Truncheon._

                    He Sings.

        _A curse upon thee for a slave,_
        _Art thou here, and heardst me rave?_
        _Fly not sparkles from mine eye,_
        _To shew my indignation nigh?_
        _Am I not all foam, and fire,_
        _With voice as hoarse as a Town-crier?_
        _How my back opes and shuts together,_
        _With fury, as old mens with weather!_
        _Could'st thou not hear my teeth gnash hither?_

    _Lap._ No truly, Sir, I thought 't had been a Squirrel,
    Shaving a Hazel-nut.

    _Pas._ Death, Hell, Fiends, and darkness.
    I will thrash thy maungy carkass.

    _Lap._ Oh sweet Sir.

    _Pas._ There cannot be too many tortures,
    Spent upon those louzie Quarters.

    _Lap._ Hold, oh.                             [_Falls down for dead._

    _Pas._ Thy bones shall rue, thy bones shall rue.

                Sings again.

        _Thou nasty, scurvy, mongril Toad,_
            _Mischief on thee;_
            _Light upon thee,_
            _All the plagues_
            _That can confound thee_
            _Or did ever raign abroad:_
        _Better a thousand lives it cost,_
        _Than have brave anger spilt or lost._                  [_Exit._

    _Lap._ May I open mine eyes yet, and safely peep:
    I'll try a groon first--oh--Nay then he's gone.
    There was no other policy but to dy,
    He would ha' made me else. Ribs are you sore?
    I was ne'er beaten to a tune before.

                       _Enter the two Brothers._

    _1 Bro. Lapet._

    _Lap._ Agen?                                         [_Falls again._

    _1 Bro._ Look, look, he's flat agen,
    And stretched out like a Coarse, a handful longer
    Than he walks, trust me brother. Why _Lapet_
    I hold my life we shall not get him speak now:
    Monsieur _Lapet_; it must be a privy token,
    If any thing fetch him, he's so far gone.
    We come to pass our words for your mans truth.

    _Lap._ Oh Gentlemen y'are welcome: I have been thrash'd i' faith.

    _2 Bro._ How? thrash'd Sir?

    _Lap._ Never was Shrove-tuesday Bird
    So cudgell'd, Gentlemen.

    _1 Bro._ Pray how? by whom Sir?

    _Lap._ Nay, that I know not.

    _1 Bro._ Not who did this wrong?

    _Lap._ Only a thing came like a Walking Song.

    _1 Bro._ What beaten with a Song?

    _Lap._ Never more tightly, Gentlemen:
    Such crotchets happen now and then, methinks
    He that endures well, of all waters drinks.               [_Exeunt._




_Actus Quartus. Scæna Prima._


       _Enter_ Shamont's _Brother, the Soldier, and 1 Gentleman_.

    _Sold._ Yes, yes, this was a Madman, Sir, with you,
    A passionate Mad-man.

    _1 Gen._ Who would ha' lookt for this, Sir?

    _Sold._ And must be priviledg'd: a pox priviledge him:
    I was never so dry beaten since I was born,
    And by a litter of rogues, meer rogues, the whole twenty
    Had not above [nine] elbows amongst 'em all too:
    And the most part of those left-handed rascals,
    The very vomit, Sir, of Hospitals,
    Bridewels, and Spittle-houses; such nasty smellers,
    That if they'd been unfurnish'd of Club-Truncheons,
    They might have cudgell'd me with their very stinks,
    It was so strong, and sturdy: and shall this,
    This filthy injury, be set off with madness?

    _1 Gen._ Nay, take your own blouds counsel, Sir, hereafter,
    I'll deal no further in't: if you remember,
    It was not come to blows, when I advis'd you.

    _Sold._ No, but I ever said, 'twould come to something,
    And 'tis upon me, thank him: were he kin
    To all the mighty Emperors upon earth,
    He has not now in life three hours to reckon;
    I watch but a free time.

                            _Enter_ Shamont.

    _1 Gent._ Your noble brother, Sir, I'll leave you now.        [_Ex._

    _Sham._ Soldier, I would I could perswade my thoughts
    From thinking thee a brother, as I can
    My tongue from naming on't: thou hast no friend here,
    But fortune and thy own strength, trust to them.

    [_Sold._ How? what's the incitement, sir?]

    _Sham._ Treachery to virtue;
    Thy treachery, thy faithless circumvention:
    Has Honor so few daughters, never fewer,
    And must thou aim thy treachery at the best?
    The very front of virtue, that blest Lady? the Dukes Sister?
    Created more for admirations cause,
    Than for loves ends; whose excellency sparkles
    More in Divinity, than mortal beauty;
    And as much difference 'twixt her mind and body,
    As 'twixt this earths poor centre, and the Sun:
    And could'st thou be so injurious to fair goodness,
    Once to attempt to court her down to frailty?
    Or put her but in mind that there is weakness,
    Sin, and desire, which she should never hear of?
    Wretch, thou'st committed worse than Sacriledge,
    In the attempting on't, and ought'st to dye for't.

    _Sold._ I rather ought to do my best, to live, Sir.
    Provoke me not; for I've a wrong sits on me,
    That makes me apt for mischief; [I] shall lose
    All respects suddainly of friendship, Brother-hood,
    Or any sound that way.

    _Sham._ But 'ware me most;
    For I come with a two-edg'd injury;
    Both my disgrace, and thy apparent falshood,
    Which must [b]e dangerous.

    _Sold._ I courted her, Sir;
    Love starve me with delays, when I confess it not.

    _Sham._ There's nothing then but death
    Can be a pennance fit for that confession.

    _Sold._ But far from any vitious taint.

    _Sham._ Oh Sir,
    Vice is a mighty stranger grown to courtship.

    _Sold._ Nay, then the fury of my wrong light on thee.

                    _Enter 1 Gentleman, and others._

    _1 Gen._ Forbear, the Duke's at hand.
    Here, hard at hand, upon my reputation.

    _Sold._ I must do something now.                        [_Ex. Sold._

    _Sham._ I'll follow you close Sir.

    _1 Gen._ We must intreat you must not; for the Duke
    Desires some conference with you.

    _Sham._ Let me go,
    As y'are Gentlemen.

    _2 Gent._ Faith we dare not Sir.

    _Sham._ Dare ye be false to honor, and yet dare not
    Do a man justice? give me leave--

    _1 Gent._ Good sweet Sir.
    H'as sent twice for you.

    _Sham._ Is this brave, or manly?

    _1 Gent._ I prethee be conform'd.

    _Sham._ Death--

                             _Enter Duke._

    _2 Gent._ Peace, he's come in troth.

    _Sham._ Oh have you betraid me to my shame afresh?
    How am I bound to loath you!

    _Duke. Shamont_, welcome,
    I sent twice.

    _2 Gent._ But my Lord, he never heard on't.

    _Sham._ Pray pardon him, for his falseness, I did Sir,
    Both times; I'd rather be found rude, than faithless.

    _Duke._ I love that bluntness dearly: h'as no vice,
    But is more manly than some others virtue,
    That lets it out only for shew or profit.

    _Sham._ Will't please you quit me, Sir, I've urgent business?

    _Duke._ Come, you're so hasty now, I sent for you
    To a better end.

    _Sham._ And if it be an end,
    Better or worse, I thank your goodness for't.

    _Duke._ I've ever kept that bounty in condition,
    And thankfulness in bloud, which well becomes
    Both Prince and Subject, that where any wrong
    Bears my impression, or the hasty figure
    Of my repented anger, I'm a Law
    Ev'n to my self, and doom my self most strictly
    To Justice, and a noble satisfaction:
    So that, what you, in tenderness of honor,
    Conceive to be loss to you, which is nothing
    But curious opinion, I'll restore agen,
    Although I give you the best part of _Genoa_,
    And take to boot but thanks for your amends.

    _Sham._ Oh miserable satisfaction,
    Ten times more wretched than the wrong it self;
    Never was ill better made good with worse:
    Shall it be said, that my posterity
    Shall live the sole heir[es] of their fathers shame?
    And raise their wealth and glory from my stripes?
    You have provided nobly, bounteous Sir,
    For my disgrace, to make it live for ever,
    Out-lasting Brass or Marble:
    This is my fears construction, and a deep one,
    Which neither argument nor time can alter:
    Yet I dare swear, I wrong your goodness in't Sir,
    And the most fair intent on't, which I reverence
    With admiration, that in you a Prince,
    Should be so sweet and temperate a condition,
    To offer to restore where you may ruine,
    And do't with justice, and in me a servant,
    So harsh a disposition, that I cannot
    Forgive where I should honor, and am bound to't.
    But I have ever had that curiosity
    In bloud, and tenderness of reputation
    Such an antipathy against a blow,
    I cannot speak the rest: Good Sir discharge me,
    It is not fit that I should serve you more,
    Nor come so near you; I'm made now for privacy,
    And a retir'd condition, that's my suit:
    To part from Court for ever, my last suit;
    And as you profess bounty, grant me that Sir.

    _Duk[e]._ I would deny thee nothing.

    _Sham._ Health reward you, Sir.                             [_Exit._

    _Duke._ He's gone agen already, and takes hold
    Of any opportunity: not riches
    Can purchase him, nor honors, peaceably,
    And force were brutish: what a great worth's gone with him,
    And but a Gentleman? well, for his sake,
    I'll ne'er offend more, those I cannot make;
    They were his words, and shall be dear to memory.
    Say I desire to see him once agen;
    Yet stay, he's so well forward of his peace,
    'Twere pity to disturb him: he would groan
    Like a soul fetch'd agen; and that were injury,
    And I've wrong'd his degree too much already.
    Call forth the Gentlem[e]n of our chamber instantly.

    _1 Serv._ I shall my Lord.                                [_Within._

    _Duke._ I may forget agen,
    And therefore will prevent: the strain of this
    Troubles me so, one would not hazard more.

                   _Enter 1 Gent, and divers others._

    _Gent._ Your Will my Lord?

    _Duke._ Yes; I discharge you all.

    _2 Gent._ My Lord--

    _Duke._ Your places shall be otherwise dispos'd of.

    _4 Gent._ Why Sir?

    _Duke._ Reply not, I dismiss you all:
    Y'are Gentlemen, your worths will find you fortunes;
    Nor shall your farewell taxe me of ingratitude.
    I'll give you all noble remembrances,
    As testimonies 'gainst reproach and malice,
    That you departed lov'd.

    _3 Gen._ This is most strange, Sir.

    _1 Gent._ But how is your Grace furnish'd, these dismiss'd?

    _Duke._ Seek me out Grooms.
    Men more insensible of reputation,
    Less curious and precise in terms of honor,
    That if my anger chance let fall a stroke,
    As we are all subject to impetuous passions,
    Yet it may pass unmurmur'd, undisputed;
    And not with braver fury prosecuted.                        [_Exit._

    _1 Gent._ It shall be done, my Lord.

    _3 Gent._ Know you the cause, Sir?

    _1 Gent._ Not I kind Gentlemen, but by conjectures,
    And so much shall be yours when you please.

    _4._ Thanks Sir.

    _3 Gent._ We shall i'th mean time think our selves guilty
    Of some foul fault, through ignorance committed.

    _1 Gent._ No, 'tis not that, nor that way.

    _4 Gent._ For my part,
    I shall be dis-inherited, I know so much.

    _1 Gent._ Why Sir, for what?

    _4 Gent._ My Sire's of a strange humor,
    He'll form faults for me, and then swear 'em mine,
    And commonly the first begins with leachery,
    He knows his own youths trespass.

    _1 Gent._ Before you go,
    I'll come and take my leave, and tell you all Sirs.

    _3 Gent._ Thou wert ever just and kind.                     [_Exit._

    _1 Gent._ That's my poor virtue, Sir,
    And parcel valiant; but it's hard to be perfect:
    The choosing of these fellows now will puzle me,
    Horribly puzle me; and there's no judgement
    Goes true upon mans outside, there's the mischief:
    He must be touch'd, and try'd, for gold or dross;
    There is no other way for't, and that's dangerous too;
    But since I'm put in trust, [I] will attempt it:
    The Duke shall keep one daring man about him.

                           _Enter a Gallant._

    Soft, who comes here? a pretty bravery this:
    Every one goes so like a Gentleman,
    'Tis hard to find a difference, but by th' touch.
    I'll try your mettal sure.

    _Gal._ Why what do you mean Sir?

    _1 Gent._ Nay, and you understand it not, I do not.

    _Gal._ Yes, would you should well know,
    I understand it for a box o'th' ear Sir.

    _1 Gent._ And o'my troth, that's all I gave it for.

    _Gal._ 'Twere best it be so.

    _1 Gent._ This is a brave Coward,
    A jolly threat'ning Coward; he shall be Captain:
    Sir, let me meet you an hour hence i'th' Lobby.

    _Gal._ Meet you? the world might laugh at [me] then i'faith.

    _1 Ge._ Lay by your scorn and pride, they're scurvy qualities,
    And meet me, or I'll box you while I have you,
    And carry you gambril'd thither like a Mutton.

    _Gal._ Nay, and you be in earnest, here's my hand.
    I will not fail you.

    _1 Gent._ 'Tis for your own good.

    _Gal._ Away.

    _1 Gent._ Too much for your own good, Sir, a pox on you.

    _Gal._ I prethee curse me all day long so.

    _1 Gent._ Hang you.

    _Gal._ I'll make him mad: he's loth to curse too much to me;
    Indeed I never yet took box o'th' ear,
    But it redounded, I must needs say so--

    _1 Gent._ Will you be gone?

    _Gal._ Curse, curse, and then I goe.
    Look how he grins, I've anger'd him to th' kidneys.           [_Ex._

    _1 Gen._ Was ever such a prigging coxcomb seen?
    One might have beat him dumb now in this humor,
    And he'd ha' grin'd it out still:

                        _Enter a plain fellow._

    Oh, here's one made to my hand,
    Methinks looks like a Craven;
    Less pains will serve his trial: some slight justle.

    _Plain._ How? take you that Sir:
    And if that content you not--

    _1 Gent._ Yes very well, Sir, I desire no more.

    _Plain._ I think you need not;
    For you have not lost by't.                                 [_Exit._

    _1 Gent._ Who would ha' thought this would have prov'd a Gentleman?
    I'll never trust long chins and little legs agen,
    I'll know 'em sure for Gentlemen hereafter:
    A gristle but in shew, but gave his cuff
    With such a fetch, and reach of gentry,
    As if h' had had his arms before the floud;
    I have took a villanous hard taske upon me;
    Now I begin to have a feeling on't.

        _Enter_ Lapet, _and Clown his servant, and so habited_.

    Oh, here comes a try'd piece, now, the reformed kick.
    The millions of punches, spurns, and nips
    That he has endur'd! his buttock's all black Lead,
    He's half a _Negro_ backward; he was past a _Spaniard_
    In Eighty eight, and more _Ægyptian_ like;
    His Table and his Book come both out shortly,
    And all the cowards in the Town expect it;
    So, if I fail of my full number now,
    I shall be sure to find 'em at Church corners,
    Where _Dives_, and the suff'ring Ballads hang.

    _Lap._ Well, since thou art of so mild a temper,
    Of so meek a spirit, thou mayst live with me,
    Till better times do smile on thy deserts.
    I am glad I am got home again.

    _Clow._ I am happy in your service, Sir,
    You'll keep me from the Hospital.

    _Lap._ So, bring me the last proof, this is corrected.

    _Clow._ I, y'are too full of your correction, Sir.

    _Lap._ Look I have perfect Books within this half hour.

    _Clow._ Yes Sir.

    _Lap._ Bid him put all the Thumps in _Pica Roman_.
    And with great T's, (you vermin) as Thumps should be.

    _Clow._ Then in what Letter will you have your Kicks?

    _Lap._ All in _Italica_, your backward blows
    All in _Italica_, you _Hermaphrodite_:
    When shall I teach you wit?

    _Clow._ Oh let it alone,
    Till you have some your self, Sir.

    _Lap._ You mumble?

    _Clow._ The victuals are lockt up;
    I'm kept from mumbling.                                     [_Exit._

    _Lap._ He prints my blows upon Pot Paper too, the rogue,
    Which had been proper for some drunken Pamphlet.

    _1 Gent._ Monsieur _Lapet_? how the world rings of you, Sir!
    Your name sounds far and near.

    _Lap._ A good report it bears, for an enduring name--

    _1 Gent._ What luck have you Sir?

    _Lap._ Why, what's the matter?

    _1 Gent._ I'm but thinking on't.
    I've heard you wish these five years for a place.
    Now there's one fall'n, and freely without money too;
    And empty yet, and yet you cannot have't.

    _Lap._ No? what's the reason? I'll give money for't,
    Rather than go without Sir.

    _1 Gen._ That's not it Sir:
    The troth is, there's no Gentleman must have it
    Either for love or money, 'tis decreed so;
    I was heartily sorry when I thought upon you,
    Had you not been a Gentleman, I had fitted you.

    _Lap._ Who I a Gentleman? a pox I'm none, Sir.

    _1 Gent._ How?

    _Lap._ How? why did you ever think I was?

    _1 Gent._ What? not a Gentleman?

    _Lap._ I would thou'dst put it upon me i'faith;
    Did not my Grand-father cry Cony-skins?
    My Father _Aquavitæ_? a hot Gentleman:
    All this I speak on, i' your time and memory too;
    Only a rich Uncle dy'd, and left me chattels,
    You know all this so well too--

    _1 Gent._ Pray excuse me, Sir, ha' not you Arms?

    _Lap._ Yes, a poor couple here,
    That serve to thrust in wild-Fowl.

    _1 Gent._ Heralds Arms,
    Symbols of Gentry, Sir: you know my meaning;
    They've been shewn and seen.

    _Lap._ They have.

    _1 Gen._ I fex have they.

    _Lap._ Why I confess, at my wives instigation once,
    (As Women love these Heralds kickshawes naturally)
    I bought 'em: but what are they think you? puffs.

    _1 Gent._ Why, that's proper to your name being _Lapet_.
    Which is _La fart_, after the _English_ Letter.

    _Lap._ The Herald, Sir, had much adoe to find it.

    _1 Gent._ And can you blame him?
    Why, 'tis the only thing that puzles the devil.

    _Lap._ At last he lookt upon my name agen,
    And having well compar'd it, this he gave me,
    The two Cholliques playing upon a wind Instrument.

    _1 Gent._ An excellent proper one; but I pray tell me,
    How does he express the Cholliques?
    They are hard things.

    _Lap._ The Cholliques? with hot trenchers at their bellies;
    There's nothing better, Sir, to blaze a Chollique.

    _1 Gent._ And are not you a Gentleman by this Sir?

    _Lap._ No, I disclaim't: no belly-ake upon earth
    Shall make me one: he shall not think
    To put his gripes upon me,
    And wring out gentry so, and ten pound first.
    If the wind Instrument will make my wife one,
    Let her enjoy't, for she was a Harpers Grand-child:
    But Sir, for my particular, I renounce it.

    _1 Gent._ Or to be call'd so?

    _Lap._ I Sir, or imagin'd.

    _1 Gent._ None fitter for the place: give me thy hand.

    _Lap._ A hundred thousand thanks, beside a Bribe, Sir.

    _1 Gent._ Yo[u] must take heed
    Of thinking toward a Gentleman, now.

    _Lap._ Pish, I am not mad, I warrant you: nay, more Sir,
    If one should twit me i'th' teeth that I'm a Gentleman,
    Twit me their worst, I am but one since _Lammas_,
    That I can prove, if they would see my heart out.

    _[1] Gen._ Marry, in any case keep me that evidence.

                             _Enter Clown._

    _Lap._ Here comes my Servant; Sir, _Galoshio_,
    Has not his name for nought, he will be trode upon:
    What says my Printer now?

    _Clow._ Here's your last Proof, Sir.
    You shall have perfect Books now in a twinkling.

    _Lap._ These marks are ugly.

    _Clow._ He says, Sir, they're proper:
    Blows should have marks, or else they are nothing worth.

    _La._ But why a Peel-crow here?

    _Clow._ I told 'em so Sir:
    A scare-crow had been better.

    _Lap._ How slave? look you, Sir,
    Did not I say, this _Whirrit_, and this _Bob_,
    Should be both _Pica Roman_.

    _Clow._ So said I, Sir, both _Picked Romans_,
    And he has made 'em _Welch_ Bills,
    Indeed I know not what to make on 'em.

    _Lap._ Hay-day; a _Souse_, _Italica_?

    _Clow._ Yes, that may hold, Sir,
    _Souse_ is a _bona roba_, so is _Flops_ too.

    _Lap._ But why stands _Bastinado_ so far off here?

    _Clow._ Alas, you must allow him room to lay about him, Sir.

    _La._ Why lies this _Spurn lower_ than that _Spurn_, Sir?

    _Clow._ Marry, this signifies one kick[t] down stairs, Sir,
    The other in a Gallery: I asked him all these questions.

    _1 Gent._ Your Books name?
    Prethee _Lapet_ mind me, you never told me yet.

    _La._ Marry but shall Sir: 'tis call'd the Uprising of the _kick_;
    And the downfall of the _Duello_.

    _1 Gent._ Bring that to pass, you'll prove a happy member,
    And do your Countrey service: your young blouds
    Will thank you then, why they see fourscore.

    _Lap._ I hope
    To save my hundred Gentlemen a month by't,
    Which will be very good for the private house.

    _Clow._ Look you, your Table's finish'd, Sir, already.

    _Lap._ Why then behold my Master-piece: see, see, Sir,
    Here's all your Blows, and Blow-men whatsoever;
    Set in their lively colours, givers, and takers.

    _1 Gent._ Troth wondrous fine, Sir.

    _Lap._ Nay, but mark the postures,
    The standing of the takers, I admire more than the givers;
    They stand scornfully, most contumeliously, I like not them,
    Oh here's one cast into a comely Figure.

    _Clow._ My Master means him there that's cast down headlong.

    _Lap._ How sweetly does this fellow take his _Dowst_!
    Stoops like a _Cammel_, that Heroick beast,
    At a great load of Nutmegs; and how meekly
    This other fellow here receives his _Whirrit_!

    _Clow._ Oh Master, here's a fellow stands most gallantly,
    Taking his _kick_ in private, behind the hangings,
    And raising up his hips to't. But oh, Sir,
    How daintily this man lies trampled on!
    Would I were in thy place, what e'er thou art:
    How lovely he endures it!

    _1 Gent._ But will not these things, Sir, be hard to practice, think
             you?

    _Lap._ Oh, easie, Sir: I'll teach 'em in a Dance.

    _1 Gent._ How? in a dance?

    _Lap._ I'll lose my new place else,
    What e'er it be; I know not what 'tis yet.

    _1 Gent._ And now you put me in mind, I could employ it well,
    For your grace, specially: For the Dukes Cosin
    Is by this time in's violent fit of mirth,
    And a device must be sought out for suddainly,
    To over-cloy the passion.

    _Lap._ Say no more, Sir,
    I'll fit you with my Scholars, new practitioners,
    Endurers of the time.

    _Clow._ Whereof I am one Sir.

    _1 Gent._ You carry it away smooth; give me thy hand, Sir. [_Exeunt._




_Actus Quintus. Scæna Prima._


                       _Enter the two Brothers._

    _Pas._ Ha, ha, ha.                                        [_Within._

    _2 Bro._ Hark, hark, how loud his fit's grown.

    _Pas._ Ha, ha, ha.

    _1 Bro._ Now let our Sister lose no time, but ply it
    With all the power she has.

    _2 Bro._ Her shame grows big, brother;
    The _Cupid_'s shape will hardly hold it longer,
    'Twould take up half an Ell of _China_ Damask more,
    And all too little: it struts per'lously:
    There is no tamp'ring with these _Cupids_ longer,
    The meer conceit with Woman-kind works strong.

    _Pas._ Ha, ha, ha.

    _2 Bro._ The laugh comes nearer now,
    'Twere good we were not seen yet.                        [_Ex. Bro._

                 _Enter Passion, and Base, his jester._

    _Pas._ Ha, ha, ha,
    And was he bastinado'd to the life? ha, ha, ha.
    I prethee say, Lord General, how did the rascals
    Entrench themselves?

    _Base._ Most deeply, politickly, all in ditches.

    _Pas._ Ha, ha, ha.

    _Bas._ 'Tis thought he'll ne'r bear Arms [ith'] field agen,
    Has much ado to lift 'em to his head, Sir.

    _Pas._ I would he had.

    _Bas._ On either side round Truncheons plaid so thick,
    That Shoulders, Chines, nay Flanks were paid to th' quick.

    _Pas._ Well said Lord-General: ha, ha, ha.

    _Bas._ But pray how grew the diff'rence first betwixt you?

    _Pas._ There was never any, Sir; there lies the jest man;
    Only because he was taller than his brother;
    There's all my quarrel, to him; and methought
    He should be beaten for't, my mind so gave me, Sir,
    I could not sleep for't: Ha, ha, ha, ha.
    Another good jest quickly, while 'tis hot now;
    Let me not laugh in vain: ply me, oh ply me,
    As you will answer't to my cosin Duke.

    _Bas._ Alas, who has a good jest?

    _Pas._ I fall, I dwindle in't.

    _Bas._ Ten Crowns for a go[o]d jest: ha' you a good jest, Sir?

                            _Enter Servant._

    _Serv._ A pretty moral one.

    _Bas._ Let's ha't, what e'er it be.

    _Serv._ There comes a _Cupid_
    Drawn by six fools.

    _Bas._ That's nothing.

    _Pas._ Help it, help it then.

    _Bas._ I ha' known six hundred fools drawn by a _Cupid_.

    _Pas._ I that, that, that's the smarter Moral: ha, ha, ha.
    Now I begin to be Song-ripe methinks.

    _Bas._ I'll sing you a pleasant Air Sir, before you ebb.

                      SONG.

    Pas. _Oh how my Lungs do tickle! ha, ha, ha._

    _Bas. Oh how my Lungs do tickle! oh, oh, ho, ho._

                      Pas. Sings.

    _Set a sharp Jest_
    _Against my breast,_
    _Then how my Lungs do tickle!_
          _As Nightingales,_
          _And things in Cambrick rails,_
          _Sing best against a prickle,_
          _Ha, ha, ha, ha._

    Bas. _Ho, ho, ho, ho, ha._

    Pas. _Laugh._

    Bas. _Laugh._

    Pas. _Laugh._

    Bas. _Laugh._

    Pas. _Wide._

    Bas. _Loud._

    Pas. _And vary._

    Bas. _A smile is for a simpering Novice._

    Pas. _One that ne'er tasted Caveare._

    Bas. _Nor knows the smack of dear Anchovis._

    Pas. _Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha._

    Bas. _Ho, ho, ho, ho, ho._

    Pas. _A gigling waiting wench for me,_
    _That shews her teeth how white they be._

    Bas. _A thing not fit for gravity,_
    _For theirs are foul, and hardly three._

    Pas. _Ha, ha, ha._

    Bas. _Ho, ho, ho._

    Pas. Democritus, _thou antient Fleerer,_
    _How I miss thy laugh, and ha' since_.

    Bas. _There you nam'd the famous Jeerer,_
    _That ever jeer'd in_ Rome, _or_ Athens.

    Pas. _Ha, ha, ha._

    Bas. _Ho, ho, ho._

    Pas. _How brave lives he that keeps a fool,_
    _Although the rate be deeper!_

    [B]as. _But he that is his own fool, Sir,_
    _Does live a great deal cheaper._

    Pas. _Sure I shall burst, burst, quite break, thou art so witty._

    Bas. _'Tis rare to break at Court, for that belongs to th' City._

    Pas. _Ha, ha, my spleen is almost worn to the last laughter._

    Bas. _Oh keep a corner for a friend, a jest may come hereafter._

    _Enter_ Lapet _and_ Clown, _and four other like fools, dancing,_
        _the_ Cupid _leading, and bearing his Table, and holding it_
        _up to_ Lapet _at every strain, and acting the postures_.

    _Lap._ Twinge all now, twinge I say.
                                                 2 Strain.
    Souse upon Souse.
                                                 3 Strain.
    Douses single.
                                                 4 Strain.
    Justle sides.
                                                 5 Strain.
    Knee Belly.
                                                 6 Strain.
    Kicksee Buttock.
                                                 7 Strain.

    _La._ Downderry.

         _Enter Soldier_, Shamont_'s brother; his sword drawn_.

    _Sol._ Not angry Law, nor doors of Brass shall keep me,
    From my wrongs expiation to thy Bowels,
    I return my disgrace; and after turn
    My face to any death that can be sentenc'd.

    _Base._ Murder, oh murder, stop the murderer there--

    _Lap._ I am glad he's gone; h'as almost trode my guts out;
    Follow him who list for me, I'll ha' no hand in't.

    _Clo._ Oh 'twas your luck and mine to be squelch'd, Mr.
    H'as stamp'd my very Puddings into Pancakes.

    _Cup._ Oh brothers, oh, I fear 'tis mortal: help, oh help,
    I'm made the wretchedst woman by this accident,
    That ever love beguil'd.

                         _Enter two Brothers._

    _2 Bro._ We are undone Brother,
    Our shames are too apparent: Away receptacle
    Of Luxury, and dishonor, most unfortunate,
    To make thy self but lucky to thy spoil,
    After thy Sexes manner: lift him up Brother;
    He breaths not to our comfort, he's too wasted
    Ever to cheer us more: A Chirurgeon speedily;
    Hence; the unhappiest that e'er stept aside,
    She'll be a Mother, before she's known a Bride.

    _Cup._ Thou hadst a most unfortunate conception,
    What e'er thou prov'st to be; in midst of mirth
    Comes ruine, for a welcome, to thy birth.                 [_Exeunt._


_Scæna Secunda._

                            _Enter_ Shamont.

    _Sham._ This is a beautiful life now; privacy
    The sweetness and the benefit of Essence:
    I see there is no man, but may make his Paradice;
    And it is nothing but his love, and dotage
    Upon the worlds foul joyes, that keeps him out on't:
    For he that lives retir'd in mind, and spirit,
    Is still in Paradice, and has his innocence,
    Partly allow'd for his companion too,
    As much as stands with justice: here no eyes
    Shoot their sharp pointed scorns upon my shame;
    They know no terms of reputation here,
    No punctual limits, or precise dimensions:
    Plain down-right honesty is all the beauty
    And elegancy of life, found amongst Shepheards;
    For knowing nothing nicely, or desiring it,
    Quits many a vexation from the mind,
    With which our quainter knowledge does abuse us;
    The name of envy is a stranger here,
    That dries mens blouds abroad, robs Health and Rest,
    Why here's no such fury thought on: no, nor falshood,
    That brotherly disease, fellow-like devil,
    That plays within our bosom, and betrays us.

                            _Enter 1 Gent._

    _1 Gent._ Oh are you here?

    _Sham. La Nove_, 'tis strange to see thee.

    _1 Gent._ I ha' rid one horse to death,
    To find you out, Sir.

    _Sham._ I am not to be found of any man
    That saw my shame, nor seen long.

    _1 Gent._ Good, your attention:
    You ought to be seen now, and found out, Sir,
    If ever you desire before your ending
    To perform one good office, nay, a dear one,
    Mans time can hardly match it.

    _Sham._ Be't as precious
    As reputation; if it come from Court
    I will not hear on't.

    _1 Gent._ You must hear of this, Sir.

    _Sham._ Must?

    _1 Gent._ You shall hear it.

    _Sham._ I love thee, that thou'lt dye.

    _1 Gent._ 'Twere nobler in me,
    Than in you living: you will live a murderer,
    If you deny this office.

    _Sham._ Even to death, Sir.

    _1 Gent._ Why then you'll kill your brother.

    _Sham._ How?

    _1 Gent._ Your Brother, Sir:
    Bear witness heaven, this man destroys his Brother
    When he may save him, his least breath may save him:
    Can there be wilfuller destruction?
    He was forc'd to take a most unmanly wrong,
    Above the suff'ring virtue of a Soldier,
    Has kill'd his injurer, a work of honor;
    For which, unless you save him, he dies speedily
    My conscience is discharg'd, I'm but a friend,
    A Brother should go forward where I end.                    [_Exit._

    _Sham._ Dyes?
    Say he be naught, that's nothing to my goodness,
    Which ought to shine through use, or else it loses
    The glorious name 'tis known by: he's my brother;
    Yet peace is above bloud: Let him go; I,
    But where's the nobleness of affection then?
    That must be car'd for too, or I'm imperfect,
    The same bloud that stood up in wrath against him,
    Now in his misery, runs all to pity;
    I'd rather dye than speak one syllable
    To save my self, but living as I am,
    There's no avoiding on't, the worlds humanity
    Expects it hourly from me: curse of fortune,
    I took my leave so well too: Let him dye,
    'Tis but a brother lost; so pleasingly,
    And swiftly I came off, 'twere more than irksomness,
    To tread that path agen; and I shall never
    Depart so handsomely: but then where's posterity?
    The consummation of our house and name?
    I'm torn in pieces betwixt love and shame.                  [_Exit._


_Scæna Tertia._

            _Enter_ Lapet, Clown, Poultrot, Moulbazon, _and_
                   _others, the new Court Officers_.

    _Lap._ Good morrow fellow _Poltrot_, and _Moulbazon_,
    Good morrow fellows all.

    _Pol._ Monsieur _Lapet_?

    _Lap._ Look, I've remembred you, here's books apiece for you.

    _Moul._ Oh Sir, we dearly thank you.

    _Lap._ So you may:
    There's two impressions gone already, Sirs.

    _Pol._ What no? in so short a time?

    _Lap._ 'Tis as I tell you, Sir.
    My Kick sells gallantly, I thank my stars.

    _Clow._ So does your Table; you may thank the Moon too.

    _Lap._ 'Tis the Book sells the Table.

    _Clow._ But 'tis the Bookseller
    That has the money for 'em, I'm sure o' that.

    _Lap._ 'Twill much enrich the Company of Stationers,
    'Tis thought 'twill prove a lasting benefit,
    Like the _Wise Masters_, and the _Almanacks_,
    The hundred _Novels_, and the Book of _Cookery_,
    For they begin already to engross it,
    And make it a Stock-book, thinking indeed
    'Twill prove too great a benefit, and help,
    For one that's new set up: they know their way,
    And make him Warden, e'r his beard be gray.

    _Moul._ Is't possible such virtue should lye hid,
    And in so little Paper?

    _Lap._ How? why there was the Carpenter,
    An unknown thing; an odoriferous Pamphlet,
    Yet no more Paper, by all computation,
    Than _Ajax Telamon_ would use at once,
    Your Herring prov'd the like, able to buy
    Another _Fishers_ Folly, and your _Pasquil_
    Went not below the mad-caps of that time,
    And shall my elaborate _Kick_ come behind, think you?

    _Clow._ Yes, it must come behind, 'tis in _Italica_ too,
    According to your humor.

    _Lap._ Not in sale, Varlet.

    _Clow._ In sale, Sir? it shall sail beyond 'em all I tro.

    _Lap._ What have you there now? oh Page 21.

    _Clow._ That Page is come to his years, he should be a Serving man.

    _Lap._ Mark how I snap up the _Duello_ there:
    One would not use a dog so,
    I must needs say; but's for the common good.

    _Clow._ Nay Sir, your Commons seldom fight at sharp,
    But buffet in a Warehouse.

    _Lap._ This will save
    Many a Gentleman of good bloud from bleeding, Sirs,
    I have a curse from many a Barber-Surgeon;
    They'd give but too much money to call't in;
    Turn to Page 45. see what you find there.

    _Clow._ Oh, out upon him,
    Page 45. that's an old thief indeed.

               _Enter Duke, the Lady his Sister, 1 Gent._

    _Lap._ The Duke, clap down your Books; away _Galoshio_.

    _Clow._ Indeed I am too foul to be i' th' presence,
    They use to shake me off at the chamber door still.           [_Ex._

    _Lady._ Good my Lord, grant my suit: let me not rise
    Without the comfort on't: I have not often
    Been tedious in this kind.

    _Duke._ Sister, you wrong your self,
    And those great virtues that your Fame is made of,
    To waste so much breath for a murderers life.

    _Lad._ You cannot hate th' offence more than I do, Sir,
    Nor the offender, the respect I owe
    Unto his absent brother, makes me a suitor,
    A most importunate Sister, make me worthy
    But of this one request.

    _Duke._ I am deaf
    To any importunacy, and sorry
    For your forgetfulness; you never injur'd
    Your worth so much, you ought to be rebuk'd for't:
    Pursue good ways, end as you did begin,
    'Tis half the guilt to speak for such a sin.

    _La._ This is loves beggery right, that now is ours,
    When Ladies love, and cannot shew their powers.               [_Ex._

    _Du. La Nove?_

    _1 Gent._ My Lord.

    _Duke._ Are these our new Attendants?

    _Lap._ We are my Lord, and will endure as much
    As better men, my Lord, and more I trust.

    _Duke._ What's he?

    _1 Gent._ My Lord, a decay'd Gentleman,
    That will do any service.

    _Duke._ A decay'd one?

    _1 Gent._ A renounc'd one indeed: for this place only.

    _Duke._ We renounce him then; go, discharge him instantly.
    He that disclaims his gentry for meer gains,
    That man's too base to make a vassal on.

    _Lap._ What says the Duke?

    _1 [Gent.]_ Faith little to your comfort, Sir,
    You must be a Gentleman agen.

    _Lap._ How?

    _1 Gent._ There's no remedy.

    _Lap._ Marry, the fates forefend: ne'r while I breathe, Sir.

    _1 Gent._ The Duke will have it so, there's no resisting,
    He spy'd it i' your forehead.

    _Lap._ My wife's doing.
    She thought she should be put below her betters now,
    And su'd to ha' me a Gentleman agen.

    _1 Gent._ And very likely, Sir,
    Marry, I'll give you this comfort when all's done,
    You'll never pass but for a scurvy one,
    That's all the help you have: come shew your pace.

    _Lap._ The heaviest Gentleman that e'er lost place;
    Bear witness, I am forc'd to't.                             [_Exit._

    _Duke._ Though you have a courser Title yet upon you,
    Than those that left your places, without blame,
    'Tis in your power to make your selves the same:
    I cannot make you Gentlemen, that's a work
    Rais'd from your own deservings, merit, manners,
    And in-born virtue does it. Let your own goodness
    Make you so great, my power shall make you greater;
    And more t'encourage you, this I add agen,
    There's many Grooms, now exact Gentlemen.

                            _Enter_ Shamont.

    _Sham._ Methinks 'tis strange to me to enter here:
    Is there in nature such an awful power,
    To force me to this place? and make me do this?
    Is mans affection stronger than his Will?
    His resolution? was I not resolv'd
    Never to see this place more? Do I bear
    Within my breast one bloud that confounds th' other?
    The bloud of Love, and Will, and the last weakest?
    Had I ten Millions, I would give it all now,
    I were but past it, or 'twould never come;
    For I shall never do't, or not do't well,
    But spoil it utterly betwixt two passions,
    Yonder's the Duke himself, I will not do't now,
    Had twenty lives their several sufferings in him.           [_Exit._

    _Duke._ Who's that went out now?

    _Pol._ I saw none my Lord.

    _Duke._ Nor you?

    _Moul._ I saw the glimpse of one my Lord.

    _Duke._ What e'er it was, methought it pleas'd me strangely
    And suddenly my joy was ready for't.
    Did you not mark it better?

    _Pol. & Moul._ Troth my Lord,
    We gave no great heed to't.

                            _Enter_ Shamont.

    _Sham._ 'Twill not be answer'd,
    It brings me hither still; by main force hither:
    Either I must give over to profess humanity,
    Or I must speak for him.

    _Duke._ 'Tis here agen:
    No marvel 'twas so pleasing, 'tis delight
    And worth it self, now it appears unclouded.

    _Sham._ My Lord--
    He turns away from me: by this hand
    I am ill-us'd of all sides: 'tis a fault
    That fortune ever had t'abuse a goodness.

    _Duke._ Methought you were saying somewhat.

    _Sham._ Mark the Language,
    As coy as fate; I see 'twill ne'er be granted.

    _Duke._ We little look'd in troth to see you here yet.

    _Sham._ Not till the day after my brother's death, I think.

    _Duke._ Sure some great business drew you.

    _Sham._ No insooth, Sir,
    Only to come to see a brother dye, Sir,
    That I may learn to go too; and if he deceive me not,
    I think he will do well in't of a soldier,
    Manly, and honestly: and if he weep then,
    I shall not think the worse on's manhood for't,
    Because he's leaving of that part that has it.

    _Duke._ Has slain a noble Gentleman, think on't, Sir.

    _Sham._ I would I could not, Sir.

    _Duke._ Our kinsman too.

    _Sham._ All this is but worse, Sir.

    _Duke._ When 'tis at worst,
    Yet seeing thee, he lives.

    _Sham._ My Lord--

    _Duke._ He lives,
    Believe it as thy bliss, he dies not for't:
    Will this make satisfaction for things past?

    _Sham._ Oh my Lord--

    _Duke._ Will it? speak.

    _Sham._ With greater shame to my unworthiness.

    _Duke._ Rise then, we're even: I never found it harder
    To keep just with a man: my great work's ended.
    I knew your brother's pardon was your suit, Sir.
    How ever your nice modesty held it back.

    _Sham._ I take a joy now, to confess it, Sir.

                            _Enter 1 Gent._

    _1 Gent._ My Lord--

    _Duke._ Hear me first, Sir, what e'er your news be:
    Set free the Soldier instantly.

    _1 Gent._ 'Tis done, my Lord.

    _Duke._ How?

    _1 Gent._ In effect: 'twas part of my news too,
    There's fair hope of your noble kinsman's life, Sir.

    _Duke._ What sayst thou?

    _1 Gent._ And the most admired change
    That living flesh e'r had; he's not the man my Lord;
    Death cannot be more free from passions, Sir,
    Than he is at this instant: he's so meek now,
    He makes those seem passionate, was never thought of:
    And for he fears his moods have oft disturb'd you, Sir,
    He's only hasty now for his forgiveness,
    And here behold him, Sir.

            _Enter Passion, the_ Cupid, _and two Brothers_.

    _Duke._ Let me give thanks first: our worthy Cosin--

    _Pas._ Your unworthy trouble, Sir;
    For which, with all acknowledg'd reverence,
    I ask your pardon; and for injury
    More known and wilful, I have chose a wife,
    Without your counsel, or consent, my Lord.

    _Duke._ A wife? where is she, Sir?

    _Pas._ This noble Gentlewoman.

    _Duke._ How?

    _Pas._ Whose honor my forgetful times much wrong'd.

    _Duke._ He's madder than he was.

    _1 Gent._ I would ha' sworn for him.

    _Duke._ The _Cupid_, Cosin?

    _Pas._ Yes, this worthy Lady, Sir.

    _Duke._ Still worse and worse.

    _1 Bro._ Our Sister under pardon, my Lord.

    _Duke._ What?

    _2 Bro._ Which shape Love taught her to assume.

    _Duke._ Is't truth then?

    _1 Gent._ It appears plainly now, below the waste, my Lord.

    _Duke. Shamont_, didst ever read of a She-_Cupid_?

    _Sham._ Never in fiction yet: but it might hold, Sir;
    For desire is of both Genders.

                       _Enter the Dukes Sister._

    _Duke._ Make that good here:            [_He joyns_ Shamont's _hand_
    I take thee at thy word, Sir.                    [_and his Sisters_.

    _Sham._ Oh my Lord,
    Love would appear too bold, and rude from me,
    Honour and admiration are her rights,
    Her goodness is my Saint, my Lord.

    _Duke._ I see,
    Y'are both too modest to bestow your selves:
    I'll save that virtue still, 'tis but my pains: come,
    It shall be so.

    _Sham._ This gift does but set forth my poverty.

    _La._ Sir, that which you complain of, is my riches.

                _Enter_ Shamont's _brother the Soldier_.

    _Duke._ Soldier, now every noise sounds peace, th'art welcome.

    _Sol._ Sir, my repentance sues for your blest favour,
    Which once obtain'd, no injury shall lose it;
    I'll suffer mightier wrongs.

    _Duke._ Rise, lov'd and pardon'd:
    For where Hope fail'd, nay Art it self resign'd,
    Thou'st wrought that cure, which skill could never find;
    Nor did there cease, but to our peace extend;
    Never could wrongs boast of a nobler end.                 [_Exeunt._




EPILOGUE.


    _Our Poet bid us say for his own part,_
    _He cannot lay too much forth of his Art:_
    _But fears our over-acting passions may,_
    _As not adorn, deface his labour'd Play,_
    _Yet still he's resolute, for what is writ_
    _Of Nicer valour, and assumes the wit:_
    _But for the Love-Scænes which he ever meant_,
    Cupid _in's Peticoat should represent,_
    _He'll stand no shock of censure; the Play's good,_
    _He says he knows it, (if well understood.)_
      _But we (blind god) beg, if thou art Divine,_
      _Thou'lt shoot thy Arrows round, this Play was thine._




Mr. _Francis Beaumonts_ Letter to _Ben. Johnson_, written before he and
Mr. _Fletcher_ came to _London_, with two of the precedent Comedies
then not finish'd, which deferr'd their merry meetings at the _Mermaid_.


    _The Sun which doth the greatest comfort bring_
    _To absent friends, because the self-same thing_
    _They know they see however absent, is,_
    _Here our best Hay-make[r] forgive me this,_
    _It is our Countreys stile. In this warm shine,_
    _I l[y]e and dream of your full Mermaid Wine._
    _Oh we have water mixt with Claret Lees,_
    _Drink apt to bring in dryer Heresies_
    _Than Beer, good only for the Sonnets strain,_
    _With fustian Metaphors to stuff the brain,_
    _So mixt, that given to the thirstiest one,_
    _'Twill not prove Alms, unless he have the stone:_
    _I think with one draught mans invention fades,_
    _Two Cups had quite spoil'd_ Homers Illiads;
    _'Tis Liquor that will find out_ Sutcliff's _wit,_
    _Lye where he will, and make him write worse yet;_
    _Fil'd with such moisture in most grievous qualms;_
    _Did_ Rob[ert] Wisdom _write his Singing Psalms;_
    _And so must I do this, and yet I think_
    _It is a potion sent us down to drink,_
    _By special Providence keeps us from fights,_
    _Makes us not laugh, when we make legs to knights._
    _'Tis this that keeps our minds fit for our States,_
    _A Medicine to obey our Magistrates_:
    _For we do live more free than you, no hate,_
    _No envy at one anothers_ [happy] _State_
    _Moves us, we are all equal every whit:_
    _Of Land that God gives men here is their wit:_
    _If we consider fully, for our best,_
    _And gravest men will with his main house jest,_
    _Scarce please you; we want subtilty to do_
    _The City tricks, lye, hate, and flatter too:_
    _Here are none that can bear a painted show,_
    _Strike when you winch, and then lament the blow:_
    _Who like Mills set the right way for to grind,_
    _Can make their gains alike with every wind:_
    _Only some fellows with the subtil'st pate_
    _Amongst us, may perchance equivocate_
    _At selling of a Horse, and that's the most._
    _Methinks the little wit I had is lost_
    _Since I saw you, for Wit is like a Rest_
    _Held up at Tennis, which men do the best,_
    _With the best gamesters: what things have we seen,_
    _Done at the_ Mermaid! _heard words that have been_
    _So nimble, and so full of subtil flame,_
    _As if that every one from whence they came,_
    _Had meant to put his whole wit in a jest,_
    _And had resolv'd to live a fool, the rest_
    _Of his dull life; then when there hath been thrown_
    _Wit able enough to justifie the Town_
    _For three days past, wit that might warrant be_
    _For the whole City to talk foolishly_
    _Till that were cancell'd, and when that was gone,_
    _We left an Air behind us, which alone,_
    _Was able to make the two next Companies_
    _Right witty; though but downright fools, more wise._
    _When I remember this, and see that now_
    _The Countrey Gentlemen begin to allow_
    _My wit for dry bobs, then I needs must cry,_
    _I see my days of Ballating grow nigh;_
    _I can already Riddle, and can Sing_
    _[Ca]tches, sell bargains, and I fear shall bring_
    _My self to speak the hardest words I find,_
    _Over, as oft as any, with one wind,_
    _That takes no medicines: But one thought of thee_
    _Makes me remember all these things to be_
    _The wit of our young men, fellows that show_
    _No part of good, yet utter all they know:_
    _Who like trees of the Guard, have growing souls._
    _Only strong destiny, which all controuls,_
    _I hope hath left a better fate in store,_
    _For me thy friend, than to live ever poor,_
    _Banisht unto this home; fate once again_
    _Bring me to thee, who canst make smooth and plain_
    _The way of Knowledge for me, and then I,_
    _Who have no good but in thy company,_
    _Protest it will my greatest comfort be_
    _To acknowledge all I have to flow from thee_.

    Ben. _when these_ Scænes _are perfect, we'll taste wine;_
    _I'll drink thy Muses health, thou shalt quaff mine_.




The Honest Man's Fortune.

A TRAGI-COMEDY.


The Persons represented in the Play.

  Duke of _Orleans, a spleenful detracting Lord_.
             {  _Brother-in-law to_ Orleans,
  Earl of    {  _a noble accomplish'd_
  _Amiens_,  {  _Gentleman, servant to_
             {  Lamira.
  Mountague, _an honest Lord_.
  Du-boys,      }  _Two faithful followers_
  Longueville,  }  _of_ Mountague.
  Voramer, _the loving and loyal Page of_ Mountague.
  La Verdine, _a knavish Courtier_.
  La Poop, _a foisting Captain_.
  Mallicorn, _a sharking Citizen_.
  Two Lawyers.
  Two Creditors.
  Officers.
  Servants.

                                  WOMEN.

  Duchess of  {  _a virtuous Lady, and_
  _Orleans_,  {  _chaste, (but suspected)_
              {  _wife to the Duke_.
  Lamira, _a modest Virgin, and a Lady, rich and noble_.
  Charlotte, Lamira's _Woman_.

                           The Scene France.

                       The Principal Actors were

  _Nathan Field_,
  _Rob. Benfield_,
  _Emanuel Read_,
  _Joseph Taylor_,
  _Will. Eglestone_,
  _Thomas Basse_.




_Actus Primus. Scæna Prima._


        _Enter the Duke of_ Orleance, _and the Earl of_ Amiens,
                          _at several doors_.

    _Amiens._ Morrow, my Lord of _Orleans_.

    _Orl._ You salute me like a stranger; brother _Orleance_ were to me
    a Title more belonging, whom you call the Husband of your Sister.

    _Ami._ Would the circumstances of your brotherhood had never
    offer'd cause to make our conversation less familiar: I meet you
    like a hindrance in your way: your great Lawsuit is now upon the
    tongue, and ready for a judgement.

    _Orl._ Came you from the Hall now?

    _Ami._ Without stay; the Court is full, and such a press of people
    does attend the issue, as if some great man were brought to his
    arraignment.

    _Orl._ Every mothers son of all that multitude of hearers, went to
    be a witness of the misery your Sisters fortunes must have come to,
    if my adversary who did love her first, had been her Husband.

    _Ami._ The success may draw a testimony from them, to confirm the
    same opinion, but they went prepar'd with no such hope or purpose.

    _Orl._ And did you intreat the number of them, that are come with
    no such hope or purpose.

    _Ami._ Tush, your own experience of my heart can answer ye.

    _Orl._ This doubtful, makes me clearly understand your disposition.

    _Ami._ If your cause be just,
    I wish you a conclusion like your cause.

    _Orl._ I can have any common charity to such a Prayer
    From a friend I would expect a love to prosper in;
    Without exceptions such a love as might
    Make all my undertakings thankful to't;
    Precisely just is seldom faithful in our wishes
    To another mans desires: Farewel.                       [_Exit_ Orl.

        _Enter_ Montague _having a Purse_, Duboys, Longueville,
              _and_ Voramer _the Page, with two Caskets_.

    _Dub._ Here comes your adversarie's brother-in-law.

    _Long._ The Lord of _Amiens_.

    _Dub._ From the Hall I think.

    _Ami._ I did so: save your Lordship.

    _Mount._ That's a wish my Lord, as courteous to my present state,
    As ever honest mind was thankful for;
    For now my safety must expose it self
    To question: yet to look for any free
    Or hearty salutation (Sir) from you
    Would be unreasonable in me.

    _Ami._ Why?

    _Mont._ Your Sister is my adversarie's wife;
    That nearness needs must consequently draw
    Your inclination to him.

    _Ami._ I will grant
    Him all the nearness his alliance claims,
    And yet be nothing less impartial,
    My Lord of _Montague_.

    _Mont._ Lord of _Montague_ yet:
    But (Sir) how long the dignity or state
    Belonging to it will continue, stands
    Upon [t]he dangerous passage of this hour.
    Either for evermore to be confirm'd,
    Or like the time wherein 'twas pleaded, gone:
    Gone with it, never to be call'd again.

    _Ami._ Justice direct your process to the end;
    To both your persons my respect shall still
    Be equal; but the righteous cause is that
    Which bears my wishes to the side it holds,
    Where, ever may it prosper.                          [_Exit_ Amiens.

    _Mont._ Then my thanks
    Are proper to you, if a man may raise
    A confidence upon a lawful ground
    I have no reason to be once perplex'd
    With any doubtful motion, _Longue[v]ille_,
    That Lord of _Amiens_, (didst observe him?) has
    A worthy nature in him.

    _Long._ Either 'tis his nature or his cunning.

    _Mont._ That's the vizard of most mens actions,
    Whose dissembled lives
    Do carry only the similitude
    Of goodness on 'em: but for him
    Honest [b]ehaviour makes a true report,
    What disposition does inhabit him,
    Essential virtue.

    _Long._ Then 'tis pity that
    Injurious _Orleans_ is his brother.

    _Dub._ He is but his brother-in-law.

    _Long._ Law? that's as bad.

    _Dub._ How is your Law as bad? I rather wish
    The hangman thy Executor than that
    Equivocation should be ominous.

                _Enter two Lawyers, and two Creditors._

    _Long._ Some of your Lawyers--

    _1 Law._ What is ominous?

    _2 Law._ Let no distrust trouble your Lordships thought.

    _1 Law._ The evidences of your question'd Land
    Ha' not so much as any literal
    Advantage in 'em to be made against
    Your Title.

    _2 Law._ And your Council understands
    The business fully.

    _1 Law._ Th'are industrious, just.

    _2 Law._ And very confident.

    _1 Law._ Your state endures
    A voluntary trial; like a man
    Whose honors are maliciously accus'd.

    _2 Law._ The accusation serves to clear his cause.

    _1 Law._ And to approve his truth more.

    _2 Law._ So shall all
    Your adversarie's pleadings strengthen your
    Possession.

    _1 Law._ And be set upon record
    To witness the hereditary right
    Of you and yours.

    _2 Law._ Courage, you have the law.

    _Long._ And you the profits.

    _Mont._ If discouragement
    Could work upon me, your assurances
    Would put me strongly into heart again;
    But I was never fearful: and let fate
    Deceive my expectation, yet I am
    Prepared against dejection.

    _1 Cre._ So are we.

    _2 Cre._ We have received a comfortable hope
    That all will speed well.

    _Long._ What is he _Duboys_?

    _Dub._ A Creditor.

    _Long._ I thought so, for he speaks
    As if he were a partner in his state.

    _Mont._ Sir, I am largely indebted to your loves.

    _Long._ More to their purses.

    _M[o]nt._ Which you shall not lose.

    _1 Cred._ Your Lordship.

    _Dub._ That's another creditor.

    _1 Cred._ Has interest in me.

    _Long._ You have more of him.

    _1 Cred._ And I have had so many promises
    From these, and all your learned Counsellors;
    How certainly your cause will prosper: that--

    _Long._ You brought no Serjeants with you?

    _Dub._ To attend his ill success.

    _Mont._ Good Sir, I will not be
    Unthankful either to their industries
    Or your affections.

    _1 Law._ All your Land (my Lord)
    Is at the barr now, give me but ten Crowns
    I'll save you harmless.

    _Long._ Take him at his word;
    If he does lose, you're sav'd by miracle,
    For I never knew a Lawyer yet undone.

    _1 Law._ Then now you shall, Sir, if this prospers not.

    _Long._ Sir, I beseech you do not force your voice
    To such a loudness, but be thrifty now;
    Preserve it till you come to plead at bar
    It will be much more profitable in
    The satisfaction than the promise.

    _1 Law._ Is not this a satisfaction to engage
    My self for this assurance, if he--

    _Mont._ No Sir, my ruin never shall import
    Anothers loss, if not by accident,
    And that my purpose is not guilty of:
    You [are] engag'd in nothing but your care.              [_Ex. Law._
    Attend the Procurator to the Court,
    Observe how things incline, and bring me word.

    _Long._ I dare not, Sir, if I be taken there,
    Mine ears will be in danger.

    _Mont._ Why? hast thou
    Committed something that deserves thine ears?

    _Long._ No, but I fear the noise; my hearing will be
    Perished by the noise; 'tis as good 't want
    [A member, as to loose the use--]

    _Mont._ The ornament is excepted.

    _Long._ Well my Lord
    I'll put 'em to the hazard.                            [_Exit_ Long.

    _1 Cred._ Your desires be prosperous to you.

    _2 Cred._ Our best Prayers wait
    Upon your fortune.                                   [_Exeunt_ Cred.

    _Dub._ For your selves, not him.

    _Mont._ Thou canst not blame 'em: I am in their debts.

    _Ver._ But had your large expence (a part whereof
    You owe 'em) for unprofitable Silks
    And Laces, been bestowed among the poor,
    That would have prayed the right way for you:
    Not upon you.

    _Mont._ For unprofitable Silks
    And Laces? now believe me honest boy
    Th'ast hit upon a reprehension that belongs
    Unto me.

    _Ver._ By ---- my Lord,
    I had not so unmannerly a thought,
    To reprehend you.

    _Mont._ Why I love thee for't.
    Mine own acknowledgement confirms thy words:
    For once I do remember, comming from
    The Mercers, where my Purse had spent it self
    On those unprofitable toys thou speak'st of,
    A man half naked with his poverty
    Did meet me, and requested my relief:
    I wanted whence to give it, yet his eyes
    Spoke for him, those I could have satisfied
    With some unfruitful sorrow, (if my tears
    Would not have added rather to his grief,
    Than eas'd it) but the true compassion that
    I should have given I had not: this began
    To make me think how many such mens wants
    The vain superfluous cost I wore upon
    My outside would have clothed, and left my self
    A habit as becomming: to increase
    This new consideration there came one
    Clad in a garment plain and thrifty, yet
    As decent as these fair dear follies; made
    As if it were of purpose to despise
    The vanity of shew: his purse had still
    The power to do a charitable deed,
    And did it.

    _Dub._ Yet your inclination, Sir,
    Deserv'd no less to be commended, than his action.

    _Mont._ Prethee do not flatter me;
    He that intends well, yet deprives himself
    Of means, to put his good thoughts into deed,
    Deceives his purpose of the due reward
    That goodness merits: oh antiquity
    Thy great examples of Nobility
    Are out of imitation, or at least
    So lamely follow'd, that thou art as much
    Before this age in virtue, as in time.

    _Dub._ Sir, it must needs be lamely followed, when
    The chiefest men love to follow it
    Are for the most part cripples.

    _Mont._ Who are they?

    _Dub._ Soldiers, my Lord, soldiers.

    _Mont._ 'Tis true _Duboys_: but if the law disables me no more
    For Noble actions, than good purposes,
    I'll practice how to exercise the worth
    Commended to us by our ancestors;
    The poor neglected soldier shall command
    Me from a Ladies Courtship, and the form
    I'll study shall no more be taught me by
    The Taylor, but the Scholar; that expence
    Which hitherto has been to entertain
    Th' intemperate pride and pleasure of the taste
    Shall fill my Table more to satisfie,
    And less to surfeit.
    What an honest work it would be; when we find
    A Virgin in her poverty, and youth
    Inclining to be tempted, to imploy
    As much perswasion, and as much expence
    To keep her upright, as men use to do upon her falling.

    _Dub._ 'Tis charity that many Maids will be unthankful for,
    And some will rather take it for a wrong,
    To buy 'em out of their inheritance,
    The thing that they were born to.

                          _Enter_ Longueville.

    _Mont. Longueville_, thou bringst a chearful promise in thy face.
    There stands no pale report upon thy cheek,
    To give me fear or knowledge of my loss, 'tis red and lively.
    How proceeds my suit?

    _Long._ That's with leave, Sir, a labour that to those of _Hercules_,
    May add another; or (at least) be call'd
    An imitation of his burning shirt:
    For 'twas a pain of that [un]merciful
    Perplexity, to shoulder through the throng
    Of people that attended your success:
    My sweaty linnen fixt upon my skin,
    Still as they pull'd me, took that with it; 'twas
    A fear I should have left my flesh among 'em:
    Yet I was patient, for (methought) the toil
    Might be an emblem of the difficult
    And weary passage to get out of Law.
    And to make up the dear similitude,
    When I was forth seeking my handkerchief
    To wipe my sweat off, I did find a cause
    To make me sweat more, for my Purse was lost
    Among their fingers.

    _Dub._ There 'twas rather found.

    _Long._ By them.

    _Dub._ I mean so.

    _Mont._ Well, I will restore
    Thy damage to thee: how proceeds my suit?

    _L[o]ng._ Like one at Brokers; I think forfeited.
    Your promising Counsel at the first
    Put strongly forward with a labour'd speed,
    And such a violence of pleading, that
    His Fee in Sugar-candy scarce will make
    His throat a satisfaction for the hurt
    He did it, and he carried the whole cause
    Before him, with so clear a passage, that
    The people in the favour of your side
    Cried _Montague, Montague_: in the spight of him
    That cryed out silence, and began to laugh
    Your adversaries advocate to scorn:
    Who like a cunning Footman set me forth
    With such a temperate easie kind of course
    To put him into exercise of strength,
    And follow'd his advantages so close,
    That when your hot mouth'd pleader thought h' had won,
    Before he reacht it, he was out of breath,
    And then the other stript him.

    _Mont._ So all is lost.

    _Long._ But how I know not; for, (methought) I stood
    Confounded with the clamour of the Court,
    Like one embark'd upon a storm at Sea,
    Where the tempestuous noise of Thunder mixt
    With roaring of the billows, and the thick,
    Imperfect language of the Sea-men, takes
    His understanding and his safety both
    Together from him.

    _Mont._ Thou dost bring ill news.

    _Long._ Of what I was unwilling to have been
    The first reporter.

    _Mont._ Didst observe no more?

    _Long._ At least no better.

    _Mont._ Then th'art not inform'd
    So well as I am; I can tell thee that
    Will please thee, for when all else left my cause,
    My very adversaries took my part.

    _Long._ --Whosoever told you that, abused you.

    _Mont._ Credit me, he took my part
    When all forsook me.

    _Long._ Took it from you.

    _Mont._ Yes I mean so, and I think he had just cause
    To take it, when the verdict gave it him.

    _Dub._ His Spirit would ha' sunk him, e'r he could
    Have carried an ill fortune of this weight so lightly.

    _Mont._ Nothing is a misery, unless our weakness apprehend it so;
    We cannot be more faithful to our selves
    In any thing that's manly, than to make
    Ill fortune as contemptible to us
    As it makes us to others.

                            _Enter Lawyers._

    _Long._ Here come they
    Whose very countenances will tell you how
    Contemptible it is to others.

    _Mont._ Sir?

    _Long._ The Sir of Knighthood may be given him, e'r
    They hear you now?

    _Mont._ Good Sir but a word.

    _Dub._ How soon the loss of wealth makes any man
    Grow out of knowledge.

    _Long._ Let me see, I pray, Sir,
    Never stood you upon the Pillory?

    _1 Law._ The Pillory?

    _Long._ Oh now I know you did not.
    Y'ave ears, I thought ye had lost 'em; pray observe,
    Here's one that once was gracious in your eyes.

    _1 Law._ Oh my Lord, have an eye upon him.

    _Long._ But ha' you ne'er a Counsel to redeem
    His Land yet from the judgement?

    _2 Law._ None but this, a Writ of error to remove the cause.

    _Long._ No more of error, we have been in that too much already.

    _2 Law._ If you will reverse the judgement, you must trust to that
    delay.

    _Long._ Delay? indeed he's like to trust to that,
    With you has any dealing.

    _2 Law._ E'r the Law proceeds to an _Habere facias possessionem_.

    _Dub._ That's a language Sir, I understand not.

    _Long._ Th'art a very strange unthankful fellow to have taken Fees
    of such a liberal measure, and then give a man hard words for's
    money.

    _1 Law._ If men will hazard their salvations,
    What should I say? I've other business.

    _Mont._ Y'are i'th' right;
    That's it you should say, now prosperity has left me.

                         _Enter two Creditors._

    _1 Cred._ Have an eye upon him; if
    We lose him now, he's gone for ever; stay
    And dog him: I'll go fetch the Officers.

    _Long._ Dog him you Bloud-hound: by this point thou shalt more
    safely dog an angry Lion, than attempt him.

    _Mont._ What's the matter?

    _Long._ Do but stir to fetch a Serjeant; and besides your loss
    Of labour, I'll have you beaten, till
    Those casement in your faces be false lights.

    _Dub._ Falser than those you sell by.

    _Mont._ Who gave you Commission to abuse my friends thus?

    _Lon._ Sir, are those your friends that would betray you?

    _Mont._ 'Tis to save themselves rather than betray me.

    _1 Cred._ Your Lordship makes a just construction of it.

    _2 Cred._ All our desire is but to get our own.

    _Long._ Your wives desires and yours do differ then.

    _Mont._ So far as my ability will go
    You shall have satisfaction _Longeville_.

    _Long._ And leave your self neglected; every man
    Is first a debtor to his own demands, being honest.

    _Mont._ As I take it, Sir, I did
    Not entertain you for my Counselor.

    _Long._ Counsel's the office of a servant,
    When the master falls upon a danger; as
    Defence is; never threaten with your eyes,
    They are no cockatrices; do you hear?
    Talk with [a] Girdler, or [a] Mill'ner,
    He can inform you of a kind of men
    That first undid the profit of those trades
    By bringing up the form of carrying
    Their _Morglays_ in their hands: with some of those
    A man may make himself a priviledge
    To ask a question at the prison gates
    Without your good permission.

    _2 Cred._ By your leave.

    _Mont._ Stay Sir, what one example since the time
    That first you put your hat off to me, have
    You noted in me to encourage you
    To this presumption? by the justice now
    Of thine own rule, I should begin with thee,
    I should turn thee away ungratified
    For all thy former kindness, forget
    Thou ever didst me any service: 'tis not fear
    Of being arrested, makes me thus incline
    To satisfy you; for you see by him,
    I lost not all defences with my state;
    The curses of a man to whom I am
    Beholding terrify me more, than all
    The violence he can pursue me with.
    _Duboys_, I did prepare me for the worst;
    These two small Cabinets do comprehend
    The sum of all the wealth that it hath pleased
    Adversity to leave me, one as rich
    As th'other, both in Jewels; take thou this,
    And as the Order put within it shall
    Direct thee, distribute it half between
    Those Creditors, and th' other half among
    My servants: for (Sir) they are my Creditors
    As well as you are, they have trusted me
    With their advancement: if the value fail,
    To please you all, my first increase of means
    Shall offer you a fuller payment; be content
    To leave me something, and imagine that
    You put a new beginner into credit.

    _Cred._ So prosper our own blessings, as we wish you to
    your merit.

    _Mont._ Are you[r] silences of discontent, or of sorrow?

    _Dub._ Sir, we would not leave you.

    _Long._ Do but suffer us to follow you, and what our present
    means, or industries hereafter can provide, shall serve you.

    _Mont._ Oh desire me not to live
    To such a baseness, as to be maintained
    By those that serve me; pray begone, I will
    Defend your honesties to any man
    That shall report you have forsaken me;
    I pray begone.                     [_Exeunt Servants and Creditors._
    Why, dost thou weep my boy,
    Because I do not bid thee go to[o]?

    _Ver._ No, I weep (my Lord) because I would not go;
    I fear you will command me.

    _Mont._ No my child,
    I will not; that would discommend th' intent
    Of all my other actions: thou art yet
    Unable to advise thy self a course,
    Should I put thee to seek it; after that
    I must excuse, or at the least forgive
    Any [un]charitable deed that can be done against my self.

    _Ver._ Every day (my Lord) I tarry with you, I'll account
    A day of blessing to me; for I shall
    Have so much less time left me of my life
    When I am from you: and if misery
    Befall you (which I hope so good a man
    Was never born to) I will take my part,
    And make my willingness increase my strength
    To bear it. In the Winter I will spare
    Mine own cloth[e]s from my self to cover you;
    And in the Summer, carry some of yours
    To ease you: I'll doe any thing I can.

    _Mont._ Why, thou art able to make misery
    Ashamed of hurting, when thy weakness can
    Both bear it, and despise it: Come my boy
    I will provide some better way for thee
    Than this thou speakst of: 'tis the comfort that
    [Ill] fortune has undone me into the fashion:
    For now in this age most men do begin,
    To keep but one boy, that kept many men.                  [_Exeunt._

            _Enter Orleans, a Servant, his Lady following._

    _Orl._ Where is she? call her.

    _Lady._ I attend you Sir.

    _Orl._ Your friend sweet Madam.

    _Lady._ What friend, good my Lord?

    _Orl._ Your _Montague_, Madam, he will shortly want
    Those Courtly graces that you love him for;
    The means wherewith he purchased this, and this;
    And all his own provisions to the least
    Proportion of his feeding, or his clothes,
    Came out of that inheritance of land
    Which he unjustly lived on: but the law
    Has given me right in't, and possession; now
    Thou shalt perceive his bravery vanish, as
    This Jewell does from thee now, and these Pearls
    To him that owes 'em.

    _Lady._ Ye are the owner Sir of every thing that does belong to me.

    _Orl._ No, not of him, sweet Lady.

    _Lady._ O good [God]!

    _Orl._ But in a while your mind will change, and be
    As ready to disclaim him; when his wants
    And miseries have perish'd his good face,
    And taken off the sweetness that has made
    Him pleasing in a womans understanding.

    _La._ O Heaven, how gratious had Creation been
    To women, who are born without defence,
    If to our hearts there had been doors through which
    Our husbands might have lookt into our thoughts,
    And made themselves undoubtfull.

    _Orl._ Made 'em mad.

    _La._ With honest women.

    _Orl._ Thou dost still pretend
    A title to that virtue: prethee let
    Thy honesty speak freelie to me now.
    Thou know'st that _Montague_, of whose Land
    I [a]m the master, did affect thee first,
    And should have had thee, if the strength of friends
    Had not prevail'd above thine own consent.
    I have undone him; tell me how thou dost
    Consider his ill fortune and my good.

    _La._ I'll tell you justly his undoing is
    An argument for pity and for tears
    In all their dispositions that have known
    The honor and the goodness of his life:
    Yet that addition of prosperity,
    Which you have got by't, no indifferent man
    Will malice or repine at, if the Law
    Be not abused in't; howsoever since
    You have the upper fortune of him, 'twill
    Be some dishonor to you to bear your self
    With any pride or glory over him.

    _Orl._ This may be truely spoken, but in thee
    It is not honest.

    _La._ Yes, so honest, that I care not if the chast _Penelope_
    Were now alive to hear me.

                            _Enter Amiens._

    _Orl._ Who comes there?

    _La._ My brother.

    _Am._ Save ye.

    _Orl._ Now Sir, you have heard of prosperous _Montague_.

    _Am._ No Sir, I have heard of _Montague_,
    But of your prosperity.

    _Orl._ Is he distracted.

    _Am._ He does bear his loss with such a noble strength
    Of patience that,
    Had fortune eyes to see him, she would weep
    For having hurt him, and pretending that
    Shee did it but for triall of his worth:
    Hereafter ever love him.

    _Orl._ I perceive you love him, and because (I must confess)
    He does deserve that though for some respects,
    I have not given him that acknowledgement,
    Yet in mine honor I did still conclude to use him nobly.

    _Am._ Sir, that will become your reputation and make me
    grow proud of your alliance.

    _Orl._ I did reserve the doing of this friendship till I had
    His fortunes at my mercy, that the world
    May tell him 'tis a willing courtesie.

    _La._ This change will make me happy.

    _Orl._ 'Tis a change; thou shalt behold it: then observe me when
    That _Montague_ had possession of my Land,
    I was his rivall, and at last obtain'd
    This Lady who, by promise of her own
    Affection to him, should ha' bin his wife;
    I had her, and withheld her like a pawn,
    Till now my Land is rend'red to me again,
    And since it is so, you shall see I have
    The conscience not to keep her--give him her--             [_draws._

    For by the faithfull temper of my sword, she shall not tarry with
    me.

    _Am._ Give me way--                                        [_draws._
    Thou most unworthy man--give me way;
    Or by the wrong he does the Innocent,
    I'll end thy misery and his wickedness, together.

    _Lady._ Stay and let me justifie
    My husband in that, I have wrong'd his bed.       [_Exeunt Am. Orl._

       _Enter Orleans in amazement, the servants following him._

    Never--all shames that can afflict me fall
    Upon me if I ever wrong'd you;

    _Orl._ Didst thou not confess it;

    _La._ 'Twas to save your blood from shedding, that has
    Turn'd my brothers edge;
    He that beholds our thoughts as plainely as
    Our faces, knowes it, I did never hurt
    My honesty but by accusing it.

    _Orl._ Womens consents are sooner credited
    Than their denials: and I'll never trust
    Her body that prefers any defence
    Before the safety of her honor--here

                            _Enter Servant._

    Show forth that stranger--give me not a word.
    Thou seest a danger readie to be tempted.

    _La._ Cast that upon me rather than my shame,
    And as I am now dying I will vow
    That I am honest.

    _Orl._ Put her out of dores; but that I fear my land
    May go again to _Montague_, I would kill thee, I am loth,
    To make a beggar of him that way; or else--
    Go now you have the liberty of flesh,
    And you may put it to a double use,
    One for your pleasure, th'other to maintain
    Your wellbeloved, he will want.                        [_Exit Lady._
    In such a charitable exercise
    The virtue will excuse you for the vice.            [_Exit Orleans._

            _Enter Amiens drawn, Montague, Veramor meeting._

    _Mont._ What means your Lordship?

    _Ver._ For the love of [God].

    _Am._ Thou hast advantage of me, cast away this buckler.

    _Mont._ So he is Sir, for he lives
    With one that is undone--avoyd us boy.

    _Ver._ I'll first avoid my safety,
    Your Rapier shall be button'd with my head, before it touch
    my Master.

    _Am. Montague?_

    _Mont._ Sir.

    _Am._ You know my sister?

    _Mont._ Yes Sir.

    _Am._ For a whore?

    _Mont._ You lye, and shall lie lower if you dare abuse her honor.

                             _Enter Lady._

    _La._ I am honest.

    _Am._ Honest!

    _La._ Upon my faith I am.

    _Am._ What did then p[e]rsuade thee to condemn thy self?

    _La._ Your safety.

    _Am._ I had rather be expos'd
    To danger, than dishonor; th'ast betray'd
    The reputation of my familie
    More basely by the falseness of that word,
    Than if thou hadst delivered me asleep
    Into the hands of base enemies.
    Relief will never make thee sensible
    Of thy disgraces; let thy wants compell thee to it.         [_Exit._

    _La._ O I am a miserable woman.

    _Mont._ Why Madam? are you utterly without means to relieve you?

    _La._ I have nothing Sir, unless by changing of these cloaths for
    worse, and then at last the worst for nakedness.

    _Mont._ Stand off boy, nakedness would be a change
    To please us Madam, to delight us both.

    _La._ What nakedness Sir?

    _Mont._ Why the nakedness of body Madam, we were Lovers once.

    _La._ Never dishonest Lovers.

    _Mont._ Honestie has no allowance now to give our selves.

    _La._ Nor you allowance against honestie.

    _Mont._ I'll send my Boy hence, opportunitie
    Shall be our servant, come and meet me first
    With kisses like a stranger at the door,
    And then invite me nearer to receive
    A more familiar inward wellcome; where,
    Instead of tapers made of Virgins wax
    Th'increasing flames of our desires shall light
    Us to a banquet: and before the taste
    Be dull with satisfaction, I'll prepare
    A nourishment compos'd of every thing
    That bears a naturall friendship to the blood,
    And that shall set another edge upon 't,
    Or else between the courses of the feast
    We'll dallie out an exercise of time,
    That ever as one appetite expires another may succeed it.

    _La._ O my Lord, how has your nature lost her worthiness!
    When our affections had their liberty,
    Our kisses met as temperatelie as
    The hands of sisters, or of brothers, that
    Our bloods were then as moving; then you were
    So noble, that I durst have trusted your
    Embraces in an opportunity
    Silent enough to serve a ravisher,
    And yet come from you--undishonor'd--how
    You think me altered, that you promise your
    Attempt success I know not; but were all
    The sweet temptations that deceive us set
    On this side, and [on] that side all the waiters,
    These neither should p[e]rsuade me, nor these force.

    _Mont._ Then misery may waste your body.

    _Lady._ Yes, but lust shall never.

    _Mont._ I have found you still as uncorupted as I left you first
    Continue so; and I will serve you with
    As much devotion as my word, my hand
    Or purse can show you; and to justifie
    That promise, here is half the wealth I have,
    Take it, you owe me nothing, till you fall
    From virtue, which the better to protect
    I have bethought me of a present means:
    Give me the Letter; this commends my Boy
    Into the service of a Lady, whose
    Free goodness you have bin acquainted with, _Lamira_.

    _Lady._ Sir I know her.

    _Mont._ Then believe her entertainment will be noble to you;
    My boy shall bring you thither: and relate
    Your manner of misfortune if your own
    Report needs any witness: so I kiss your hand good Lady.

    _Lady._ Sir, I know not how to promise, but I cannot be unthankfull.

    _Mont._ All that you can implore in thankfulness
    Be yours, to make you the more prosperous.
    Farwell my boy,--I am not yet oppress'd.          [_Exit Lady Vere._
    Having the power to helpe one that's distress'd.          [_Exeunt._




_Actus Secundi. Scæna Prima._


                     _Enter Longaville and Dubois._

    _Long._ What shall we do now: swords are out of use,
    And words are out of credit.

    _Dub._ We must serve.

    _L[o]ng._ The means to get a service will first spend
    Our purses; and except we can allow
    Our selves an entertainment, service will
    Neglect us; now 'tis grown into a doubt
    Whether the Mr. or the servants gives the countenance.

    _Dub._ Then fall in with Mistresses.

    _Long._ They keep more servants now (indeed) than men,
    But yet the age is grown so populous
    Of those attendants, that the women are
    Grown full too.

    _Dub._ What shall we propound our selves?

    _Long._ I'll think on't.

    _Dub._ Do; Old occupations have too many setters up to
    prosper, some uncommon trade would thrive now.

    _Long._ Wee'll e'en make up some half a dozen proper men.
    And should not we get more
    Than all your female sinners?

    _Dub._ If the house be seated as it should be privately.

    _Long._ I, but that would make a multitude of witches.

    _Dub._ Witches? how prethee?

    _Long._ Thus the bauds would all turn witches to revenge
    Themselves upon us, and the women that
    Come to us, for disguises must wear beards,
    And that's they say, a token of a witch.

    _Dub._ What shall we then do.

    _Long._ We must study on't
    With more consideration; stay _Duboyes_
    Are not the Lord of _Orleans_ and the Lord
    Of _Amiens_ enemies?

    _Dub._ Yes, what of that.

    _Long._ Methinks the factions of two such great men.
    Should give a promise of advancement now
    To us that want it.

    _Dub._ Let the plot be thine, and in the enterprize I'll second thee.

    _Long._ I have it, we will first set down our selves
    The Method of a quarrell; and make choyce
    Of some frequented Tavern; or such a place
    Of common notice, to perform it in
    By way of undertaking to maintain
    The severall honors of those enemies.
    Thou for the Lord of _Orleans_; I for _Amiens_.

    _Dub._ I like the project, and I think 'twill take
    The better, since their difference first did rise
    From his occasion whom we followed once.

    _Long._ We cannot hope less after the report,
    Than entertainment or gratuity,
    Yet those are ends, I do not aim at most;
    Great spirits that are needy, and will thrive,
    Must labour whiles such troubles are alive.               [_Exeunt._

                    _Enter Laverdine and La-poope._

    _La-p._ Slander is sharper than the sword. I have fed this three
    dayes upon leaf _Tobacco_, for want of other Victuals.

    _Lav._ You have liv'd the honester Captain; but be not so dejected,
    but hold up thy head, and meat will sooner fall i'thy mouth.

    _La-p._ I care not so much for meat, so I had but good liquor, for
    which my guts croak like so many Frogs for rain.

    _Lav._ It seems, you are troubled with the wind-Collick, Captain,
    swallow a bullet: 'tis present remedy I'll assure you.

    _La-p._ A bullet? I'll tell you Sir, my panch is nothing but a pile
    of bullets; when I was in any service I stood between my Generall
    and the shot, like a mud-wall; I am all lead, from the crown of the
    head to the soal of the foot, not a sound bone about me.

    _La[v]._ It seems you have bin in terrible hot service Captain.

    _La-p._ It has ever bin the fate of the low Country wars to spoil
    many a man, I ha' not bin the first nor shall not be the last: but
    I'll tell you Sir, (hunger has brought it in to mind) I served once
    at the Siege of _Braste_, 'tis memorable to this day, where we were
    in great distress for victuals, whole troops fainted more for want
    of food then for blood, and died, yet we were resolved to stand it
    out; I my self was but then Gentleman of a Company, and had as much
    need as any man, and indeed I had perished had not a miraculous
    providence preserved me.

    _Lav._ As how good Captain?

    _La-p._ Marry Sir, e'en as I was fainting and falling down for want
    of sustenance, the enemy made a shot at me, and struck me full ith'
    paunch with a penny loaf.

    _Lav._ Instead of a bullet!

    _La-p._ In stead of a bullet.

    _Lav._ That was miraculous indeed; and that loaf sustained you.

    _La-p._ Nourished me or I had famished with the rest.

    _Lav._ You have done worthy acts being a soldier, and now you shall
    give me leave to requite your tale, and to acquaint you with the
    most notorious deeds that I have done being a Courtier. I protest
    Captain I will lie no more than you have done.

    _La-p._ I can indure no lies.

    _Lav._ I know you cannot Captain, therefore I'll only tell you
    of strange things: I did once a deed of charity for it self; I
    assisted a poor widow in a sute, and obtained it, yet I protest I
    took not a penny for my labor.

    _La-p._ 'Tis no such strange thing.

    _Lav._ By _Mars_ Captain, but it is, and a very strange thing too
    in a Courtier, it may take the upper hand of your penny loaf for a
    miracle. I could ha' told you how many Ladyes have languished for
    my love, and how I was once sollicited by the mother, the daughter,
    and grand-mother; out of the least of which I might have digg'd
    my self a fortune; they were all great Ladyes, for two of them
    were so big I could hardly embrace them: but I was sluggish in
    my rising courses, and therefore let them pass; what means I had
    is spent upon such as had the wit to cheat me; That wealth being
    gone, I have only bought experience with it, with a strong hope
    to cheat others; but see here comes the much declined _Montague_,
    who had all the Manor houses, which were the body of his estate,
    overthrowen by a great wind.

                     _Enter Montague, Mallicorne._

    _La-p._ How by a great wind? was he not overthrown by law?

    _Lav._ Yes, marry was he: but there was terrible puffing and
    blowing before he was overthrown, if you observ'd, and believe it
    Captain, there's no wind so dangerous to a building as a lawyers
    breath.

    _La-p._ What's he with him?

    _Lav._ An eminent Citizen, Mounsier _Mallicorne_, let's stand a
    side and listen their design.

    _Mal._ Sir, profit is the Crown of labor, it is the life, the soul
    of the industrious Merchant, in it he makes his paradise, and for
    it neglects Wife, Children, Friends, Parents, nay all the world,
    and delivers up himself to the violence of storms, and to be tos'd
    into unknown ayrs; as there is no faculty so perillous, so there's
    none so worthy profitable.

    _Mont._ Sir, I am very well possest of it, and what of my poore
    fortunes remaines, I would gladly hazard upon the Sea: it cannot
    deal worse with me than the Land, though it sink or throw it in
    the hands of Pirats. I have yet five hundred pounds left, and your
    honest and worthy acquaintance may make me a young Merchant; th'one
    moity of what I have I would gladly adventure.

    _Mal._ How adventure? you shall hazard nothing: you shall only joyn
    with me in certain commodities that are safe arrived unto the Key;
    you shall neither be in doubt of danger nor dammage; But so much
    money disburst, so much receive; Sir, I would have you conceive I
    pursue it not for any good your money will do me, but meerly out of
    mine own freeness and courtesie to pleasure you.

    _Mont._ I can believe no less, and you express a noble nature,
    seeking to build up a man so ruin'd as my self.

    _Lav._ Captain here is subject for us to work upon if we have wit;
    you hear that there is money yet left, and it is going to be layd
    out in Rattels, Bels, Hobby-Horses, brown paper, or some such like
    sale commodities; now it would do better in our purses, upon our
    backs in good Gold-lace, and Scarlat, and then we might pursue
    our projects, and our devices towards my Lady _Annabella_; go to,
    there's a conceit newly landed, heark I stand in good reputation
    with him, and therefore may the better cheat him: Captain, take a
    few instructions from me.

    _Mont._ What monies I have is at your disposing, and upon twelve I
    will meet you at the Pallace with it.

    _Mal._ I will there expect you, and so I take my leave.     [_Exit._

    _Lav._ You apprehend me?

    _La-p._ Why do ye think I am a dunce?

    _Lav._ Not a dunce Captain, but you might give me leave to misdoubt
    that pregnancy in a Soldier, which is proper and hereditary to a
    Courtier; but prosecute it, I will both second, and give credit
    to it. Good Mounsier _Montague_, I would your whole revenues lay
    within the circuit of mine armes, that I might as easily bestow, or
    restore it unto you as my curtesie.

    _La-p._ My zealous wishes Sir, do accompany his for your good
    fortunes.

    _Lav._ Believe it Sir, our affection towards you is a strong band
    of friendship.

    _Mont._ To which I shall most willingly seal. But believe me
    Gentlemen in a broken estate, the bond of friendship oft is
    forfeited, but that it is your free and ingenuous nature to renew
    it.

    _Lav._ Sir, I will amply extend my self to your use, and am very
    zealously afflicted as not one of your least friends for your
    crooked fate; But let it not seise you with any dejection, you have
    as I hear a sufficient competency left, which well disposed may
    erect you as high in the worlds account as ever.

    _Mont._ I cannot live to hope it, much less injoy it, nor is it any
    part of my endeavor; my study is to render every man his own, and
    to contain my self within the limits of a Gentleman.

    _Lav._ I have the grant of an Office given me by some noble
    favorites of mine in Court, there stands but a small matter between
    me and it, if your ability be such to lay down the present summ,
    out of the love I bear you, before any other man, it shall be
    confirmed yours.

    _Mont._ I have heard you often speak of such a thing; If it be
    assur'd to you I will gladly deal in it: that portion I have, I
    would not hazard upon one course, for I see the most certain is
    incertain.

    _La-p._ Having money Sir, you could not light upon men that could
    give better direction; there is at this time a friend of mine upon
    the Seas; to be plain with you, he is a pyrate, that hath wrote
    to me to work his fredom, and by this Gentlemans means, whose
    acquaintance is not small at Court; we have the word of a worthy
    man for it, only there is some money to be suddainly disburst, and
    if your happiness be such to make it up you shall receive treble
    gain by it, and good assurance for it.

    _Mont._ Gentlemen, out of the weakness of my estate you seem (to
    have some knowledge of my brest) that wou'd if it were possible
    advance my declined fortunes, to satisfie all men of whom I have
    had credit, and I know no way better than these which you propose;
    I have some money ready under my command, some part of it is
    already promis'd, but the remainder is yours to such uses as are
    propounded.

    _Lav._ Appoint some certain place of meeting, for these affaires
    require expedition.

    _Mount._ I will make it my present business: at twelve, I am to
    meet _Mallicorne_, the Marchant at the Pallace, you know him Sir,
    about some negotiation of the same nature, there I will be ready to
    tender you that money, upon such conditions as we shall conclude of.

    _Lav._ The care of it be yours, so much as the affair concerns you.

    _Mont._ Your caution is effectuall, and till then I take my leave.

    _Lav._ Good Mr _Montague_.                                  [_Exit._

    _W[i]thin a clamor, down with their weapons._

           _Enter Longavile, and Dubois, their swords drawn,
                  servants and others between them._

    _Ser._ Nay Gentlemen what mean you? pray be quiet, have some
    respect unto the house.

    _Long._ A treacherous slave.

    _Du._ Thou dost revile thy self base _Longavile_.

    _Long._ I say thou art a villain, and a corrupt one, that hast some
    seven years fed on thy masters trencher, yet never bredst good
    blood towards him: for if thou hadst, thou'dst have a sounder heart.

    _Du._ So Sir, you can use your tongue something nimbler than your
    sword.

    _Long._ Wou'd you cou'd use your tongue well of your Master, friend
    you might have better imployment for your sword.

    _Du._ I say again, and I will speak it loud and often, that
    _Orleans_ is a noble Gentleman with whom _Amiens_ is too light to
    poyse the scale.

    _Long._ He is the weaker for taking of a prayse out of thy mouth.

    _Du._ This hand shall seal his merit at thy heart.

    _Lav._ Part them my masters, part them.

    _Ser._ Part them Sir, why do you not part them, you stand by with
    your sword in your hand, and cry part 'em.

    _Lav._ Why you must know my friend my cloaths are better than
    yours, and in a good suit, I do never use to part any body.

    _La-p._ And it is discretion.

    _Lav._ I marry is it Captain.

    _Long. Dubois_ though this place priviledge thee, know where
    next we meet, the blood which at thy heart flows drops at thy feet.

               _Enter Amience in haste, his sword drawn._

    _Du._ I would not spend it better than in this quarrell, and on
    such a hazard.

    _Ami._ What uprore's this, must my name here be question'd in
    Tavern brawls, and by affected Ruffins?

    _Lav._ Not we indeed Sir.

    _Du._ Fear cannot make me shrink out of your fury, though you were
    greater than your name doth make you, I am one, and the opposer; if
    your swoln rage have ought in malice to inforce express it.

    _Ami._ I seek thee not, nor shalt thou ever gain
    That credit, which a blow from me wou'd give thee,
    By my ---- I more detest that fellow
    Which took my part than thee, that he durst offer
    To take my honor in his feeble armes,
    And spend it in a drinking room; which way went he?

    _Lav._ That way Sir, I wou'd you wou'd after; for I do fear we
    shall have some more scuffling.

    _Ami._ [I]'ll follow him, and if my speed o'er take him, I shall
    ill thank him, for his forwardness.                         [_Exit._

    _Lav._ I am glad he's gone, for I doe not love to see a sword drawn
    in the hand of a man that lookes so furious, there's no jesting
    with edge tooles, how say you Captain?

    _Cap._ I say 'tis better jesting than to be in earnest with them.

                           _Enter Orleance._

    _Orl._ How now? what's the difference? they say there have bin
    swords drawn, and in my quarrell: let me know that man, whose love
    is so sincere to spend his blood for my sake, I will bounteously
    requite him.

    _Lav._ We were all of your side, but there he stands begun it.

    _Orl._ What's thy name?

    _Dub. Duboyes._

    _Orl._ Give me thy hand, [thou] hast received no hurt?

    _Dub._ Not any, nor were this body stuck full of wounds, I should
    not count them hurts, being taken in so honorable a cause as the
    defence of my most worthy Lord.

    _Orl._ The dedication of thy love to me requires my ample bounty,
    thou art mine, for I do find thee made unto my purposes: Mounsieur
    _Laverdine_, pardon my neglect I not observed you, and how runs
    rumour?

    _Lav._ Why, it runs my Lord like a foot-man without a cloak, to
    show that what's once rumour'd it cannot be hid.

    _Or[l]._ And what say the rable, am not I the subject of their talk?

    _Lav._ Troth my Lord the common mouth speaks foul words.

    _Orl._ Of me, for turning away my wife, do they not?

    _Lav._ Faith the men do a little murmure at it and say, 'tis an ill
    president in so great a man, marry the women they rayl out right.

    _Orl._ Out upon them rampallions. I'll keep my self safe enough out
    of their fingers, but what say my pritty jolly composed gallants
    that censure every thing more desperate than it is dangerous; what
    say they?

    _Lav._ Marry they are laying wagers, what death you shall die; one
    offers to lay five hundred pounds; And yet he had but a groat about
    him, & that was in two twopences too to any man that wou'd make
    it up a shilling; that you were kil'd with a Pistoll charg'd with
    white Powder; another offerd to pawn his soul for five shillings,
    and yet no body wou'd take him, that you were stab'd to death, and
    shou'd die with more wounds than _Cæsar_.

    _Orl._ And who shou'd be the Butchers that shou'd do it? _Montague_
    and his associates?

    _Lav._ So 'tis conjectured.

    _La-p._ And believe it, sweet Prince, it is to be feared, and
    therefore prevented.

    _Orl._ By turning his purpose on himself, were not that the way?

    _Lav._ The most direct path for your safety. For where doth danger
    sit more furious than in a desperate man?

    _La-p._ And being you have declined his means, you have increast
    his malice.

    _Lav._ Besides the generall report that steems in every mans
    breath, and stains you all over with infamy, that Time the devourer
    of all things cannot eat out.

    _La-p._ I, for that former familiarity, which he had with your Lady.

    _Lav._ Men speak it as boldly as words of compliment; good morrow,
    good even, or [God] save you Sir, are not more usuall; if the word
    cuckold had been written upon your forehead in great Capitall
    Letters, it could not have been dilated with more confidence.

    _Orl._ He shall not sleep another night, I will have his blood,
    though it be required at my hands again.

    _Lav._ Your Lordship may, and without hazarding your own person;
    here's a Gentleman in whose looks I see a resolution to perform it.

    _Dub._ Let his Lordship give me but his honorable word for my life,
    I'll kill him as he walks.

    _Lav._ Or pistoll him as he sits at meat.

    _La-p._ Or at game.

    _Lav._ Or as he is drinking.

    _Dub._ Any way.

    _Orl._ Wou't thou? call what is mine thine own, thy reputation
    shall not be brought in question for it, much less thy life; it
    shall be nam'd a deed of valour in thee, not murder: Farewell.
    [_Exit._

    _Dub._ I need no more encouragement, it is a work I will persuade
    my self that I was born to.

    _Laver._ And you may persuade your self too that you shall be sav'd
    by it, being that it is for his honorable Lordship.

    _Dub._ But you must yield me means, how, when and where.

    _Lav._ That shall be our tasks;
    Nay more, we will be agents with thee:
    This hour we are to meet him, on the receipt of certain moneys,
    Which indeed we purpose honestly to cheat him of,
    And that's the main cause I wou'd have him slain,
    Who works with safety makes a double gain.                [_Exeunt._

               _Enter Longaville, Amiens following him._

    _Ami._ Stay Sir, I have took some pains to overtake you.--Your name
    is _Longaville_.

    _Long._ I have the word of many honest men for't, I crave your
    Lordships pardon, your sudden apprehension on my steps made me to
    frame an answer unwitting and unworthy your respect.

    _Ami._ Doe you know me?

    _Long._ Yes, my Lord.

    _Ami._ I know not you; nor am I well pleased to make this time, as
    the affair now stands, the induction of your acquaintance; you are
    a fighting fellow.

    _Long._ How my Lord?

    _Ami._ I think I too much grace you; rather you are a fellow
    dares not fight, but spit and puffe and make a noyse, whilst your
    trembling hand draws out your Sword, to lay it upon andirons,
    stools or tables, rather than on a man.

    _Long._ Your honor may best speak this; yet ---- with little
    safety, if I thought it serious.

    _Ami._ Come, you are a verie braggart, and you have given me cause
    to tell you so: what weakness have you ever seen in me to prompt
    your self, that I could need you help; or what other reason[s]
    could induce you to it? you never yet had a meals meat from my
    Table, nor as I remember from my Wardrop any cast Suit.

    _Lon._ 'Tis true, I never durst yet have such a servile spirit,
    to be the minion of a full swoln Lord; but alwaies did detest
    such slavery: a meals meat, or a cast Suit? I wou'd first eat the
    stones, and from such rags the dunghils doe afford, pick me a
    garment.

    _Ami._ I have mistook the man, his resolute spirit
    Proclaimes him generous, he has a noble heart
    As free to utter good deeds as to act them;
    For had he not been right, and of one piece,
    He would have crumpled, curled, and struck himself
    Out of the shape of man into a shaddow.
    But prethee tell me, if no such fawning hope
    Did lead thee on to hazard life for my sake;
    What was it that incited thee?
    Tell me; speak it without the imputation of a Sycophant.

    _Long._ Your own desert, and with it was joyn'd the unfained
    friendship that I judged you ever held unto my former Lord.

    _Ami._ The noble _Montague_?

    _Long._ Yes, the noble and much injured _Montague_.

    _Ami._ To such a man as thou art, my heart shall be
    A Casket: I will lock thee up there,
    And esteem thee as a faithfull friend,
    The richest Jewell that a man enjoyes;
    And being thou didst follow once my friend,
    And in thy heart still dost, not with his fortunes casting him off,
    Thou shalt go hand in hand with me, and share
    As well in my ability as love; 'tis not my end
    To gain men for my use, but a true friend.                [_Exeunt._

                            _Enter Duboys._

    _Dub._ There's no such thriving way to live in grace,
    As to have no sence of it; his back nor belly
    Shall not want warming that can practise me mischief;
    I walk now with a full purse, grow high and wanton,
    Prune and briske my self in the bright shine
    Of his good Lordships favours; and for what virtue?
    For fashioning my self a murderer.
    O noble _Montague_, to whom I owe my heart,
    With all my best thoughts, though my tongue have promis'd
    To exceed the malice of thy destiny,
    Never in time of all my service knew I
    Such a sin tempt thy bounty; those that did feed
    Upon thy charge had merit or else need.

            _Enter Laverdine, and La-poope, with disguises._

    _Lav. Duboys_, most prosperously met.

    _Dub._ How now? will he come this way?

    _La._ This way, immediately; therefore thy assistance, dear
    _Duboys_.

    _Dub._ What have you cheated him of the money you spoke of?

    _Lav._ Fough, as easily as a silly Countrey wench of her
    maydenhead; we had it in a twinkling.

    _Dub._ 'Tis well Captain, let me help you, you must be our leader
    in this action.

    _La-p._ Tut, fear not, I'll warrant you if my Sword hold, we'll
    make no sweating sickness of it.

    _Dub._ Why that's well said, but let's retire a little, that we may
    come on the more bravely; this way, this way.             [_Exeunt._

    _Enter Montague in the hands of three Officers, and three
    Creditors._

    _1 Cre._ Officers look to him, and be sure you take good security
    before he part from you.

    _Mont._ Why but my friends, you take a strange course with me; the
    sums I owe you are rather forgetfulness, they are so slight, than
    want of will or honesty to pay you.

    _1 Cred._ I Sir, it may be so; but we must be paid, and we will be
    paid before you scape: we have wife and children, and a charge, and
    you are going down the wind, as a man may say; and therefore it
    behooves us to look to't in time.

    _2 Cred._ Your cloak here wou'd satisfie me, mine's not above a
    three pound matter, besides the arrest.

    _3 Cred._ 'Faith and mine is much about that matter too; your
    Girdle and Hangers, and your Beaver, shall be sufficient bail for't.

    _1 Cred._ If you have ever a plain black sute at home, this Silken
    one, with your Silke-stockings, Garters, and Roses shall pacifie me
    too; for I take no delight, if I have a sufficient pawn, to cast
    any Gentleman in prison; therefore 'tis but an untrussing matter:
    and you are free, we are no unreasonable creatures you see; for
    mine own part, I protest I am loth to put you to any trouble for
    security.

    _Mont._ Is there no more of you? he wou'd next demand my skin.

    _1 Cred._ No Sir, here's no more of us, nor do any of us demand
    your skin, we know not what to do with it: but it may be if you
    ow'd your Glover any money, he knew what use to make of it.

    _Mont._ Ye dregs of baseness, vultures amongst men,
    That tyre upon the hearts of generous spirits.

    _1 Cred._ You do us wrong Sir, we tyre no generous spirits, we tyre
    nothing but our hackneys.

                          _Enter Mallicorne._

    _Mont._ But here comes one made of another piece;
    A man well meriting that free born name
    Of Citizen; welcome my deliverer, I am falen
    Into the hands of blood-hounds, that for a sum
    Lesser than their honesties, which is nothing,
    Wou'd tear me out of my skin.

    _Mal._ Why Sir, what's the matter?

    _1 Cre._ Why Sir the matter is, that we must have our money, which
    if we cannot have, we'll satisfie our selves with his carcass,
    and be payd that wayes: you had as good Sir, not have been so
    peremptory. Officer, hold fast.

    _1 Offi._ The strenuous fist of vengeance now is clutcht; therefore
    fear nothing.

    _Mal._ What may be the debt in gross?

    _Mont._ Some forty Crowns, nay rather not so much, 'tis quickly
    cast.

    _Mal._ 'Tis strange to me, that your estate shou'd have so low an
    ebb, to stick at such sleight sums: why my friends, you are too
    strict in your accounts, and call too sudden on this Gentleman, he
    has hopes left yet to pay you all.

    _1 Cred._ Hopes? I marry; bid him pay his friends with hopes,
    and pay us with currant Coyn: I knew a gallant once that fed his
    creditors still with hopes, and bid 'em they shou'd fear nothing,
    for he had 'em tyed in a string; and trust me so he had indeed, for
    at last he and all his hopes hopt in a halter.

    _Mont._ Good Sir, with what speed you may, free me out of the
    company of these slaves, that have nothing but their names to show
    'em men.

    _Mal._ What wou'd you wish me do Sir? I protest I ha' not the
    present sum (small as it is) to lay down for you; and for giving my
    word, my friends no later than yesternight made me take bread and
    eat it, that I shou'd not do it for any man breathing i'th' world;
    therefore I pray hold me excused.

    _Mont._ You do not speak this seriously?

    _Mal._ As ever I said my prayers, I protest to you.

    _Mont._ What may I think of this?

    _Mal._ Troth Sir thought is free for any man; we abuse our betters
    in it, I have done it my self.

    _Mont._ Trust me, this speech of yours doth much amaze me; pray
    leave this language, and out of that same sum you lately did
    receive of me, lay down as much as may discharge me.

    _Mal._ You are a merry man Sir, and I am glad you take your crosses
    so temperately; fare you well Sir, and yet I have something more
    to say to ye, a word in your ear I pray; to be plain with you I did
    lay this plot to arrest you to enjoy this money I have of yours,
    with the more safety. I am a fool to tel[l] you this now; but in
    good faith I could not keep it in. And the money wou'd a done me
    little good else. An honest Citizen cannot wholly enjoy his own
    wife for you, they grow old before they have true use of them,
    which is a lamentable thing, and truely much hardens the hearts of
    us Citizens against you: I can say no more, but am heartily sorry
    for your heaviness, and so I take my leave.      [_Exit Mallycorne._

    _1 Cred._ Officers take hold on him again, for Mounsier
    _Mallycorne_ will do nothing for him I perceive.

                _Enter Duboys, Lapoope, and Laverdine._

    _Dub._ Nay come my masters, leave dancing of the old measures, and
    let's assault him bravely.

    _Lav._ By no means; for it goes against my stomach to kill a man in
    an unjust quarrell.

    _La-p._ It must needs be a clog to a mans conscience all his life
    time.

    _Lav._ It must indeed Captain: besides doe ye not see he has gotten
    a guard of friends about him, as if he had some knowledge of our
    purpose?

    _Dub._ Had he a guard of Devils, as I think them little better, my
    Sword should doe the message that it came for.

    _Lav._ If you will be so desperate, the blood lie upon your own
    neck, for we'll not meddle in't.

        _Duboys runs upon Montague, and strugling yields him his Sword;
            the Officers draw, Laverdine and La-poope in the scuffling
            retire, Montague chaseth them off the Stage, himself
            wounded._

    _Dub._ I am your friend and servant.
    Struggle with me and take my Sword;
    Noble Sir, make your way, you have slain an Officer.

    _Mont._ Some one of them has certainly
    Requited me; for I doe lose much blood.

    _1 Offic._ Udsprecious, we have lost a brother, pursue the
    Gentleman.

    _2 Offic._ I'll not meddle with him: you see what comes on't;
    besides I know he will be hang'd ere he be taken.

    _1 Offic._ I tell thee yeoman he must be taken ere he be hanged; he
    is hurt in the guts, run afore therefore and know how his wife will
    rate his Sawsages a pound.

    _3 Offic._ Stay brother, I may live, for surely I find I'm but hurt
    in the leg, a dangerous kick on the shin-bone.            [_Exeunt._




_Actus Tertius. Scæna Prima._


           _Enter Madam Lamira, Madam le Orleans, Veramour._

    _Lam._ You see Lady
    What harmless sports ou[r] Countrey life affords;
    And though you meet not here with City dainties,
    Or Courtly entertainment, what you have
    Is free and hearty.

    _L. Orl._ Madam, I find here
    What is a stranger to the Court, content,
    And receive curtesies done for themselves,
    Without an expectation of return,
    Which binds me to your service.

    _Lam._ Oh your love;
    My homely house built more for use than shew
    Observes the Golden mean equally distant
    From glittering pomp, and sordid avarice;
    For Maskes, we will observe the works of nature,
    And in the place of visitation, read:
    Our Physick shall be wholsome walks, our viands,
    Nourishing, not provoking: for I find
    Pleasures are tortures that leave stings behind.

    _L. Orl._ You have a great estate.

    _Lam._ A competency
    Sufficient to maintain me and my rank,
    Nor am I, I thank Heaven, so Courtly bred
    As to imploy the utmost of my Rents
    In paying Tailors for phantastick Robes;
    Or rather than be second in the fashion,
    Eat out my Officers and my Revenues
    With grating usury; my back shall not
    Be the base on which your soothing Citizen
    Erects his Summer-houses; nor on th' other side
    Will I be so penuriously wise,
    As to make money (that's my slave) my Idoll,
    Which yet to wrong, merits as much reproof,
    As to abuse our servant.

    _L. Orl._ Yet with your pardon
    I think you want the Crown of all contentment.

    _Lam._ In what good Madam?

    _L. Orl._ In a worthy husband.

    _Lam._ ---- It is strange the galley-slave should praise
    His Oar, or stroaks; or you, that have made shipwrack
    Of all delight upon this Rock, cal'd marriage,
    Should sing _Encomions_ on't.

    _L. Orl._ Madam, though one fall
    From his horse and break his neck, will you
    Conclude from that it is unfit to ride?
    Or must it follow, because _Orleans_
    My Lord's pleased to make his passionate triall
    Of my suspected patience, that my brother,
    (Were he not so, I might say, worthy _Amiens_)
    Will imitate his ills, that cannot fancy
    What's truely Noble in him?

    _Lam._ I must grant
    There's as much worth in him as can be lookt for
    From a young Lord, but not enough to make
    Me change my golden liberty and consent
    To be a servant to it, as wives are
    To the Imperious humors of their Lords:
    Me thinks I'm well, I rise and goe to bed
    When I think fit, eat what my appetite
    Desires without controle, my servants study
    Is my contentment, and to make me merry
    Their farthest ayms; my sleeps are enquired after,
    My rising up saluted with respect:
    Command and liberty now wait upon
    My Virgin state; what would I more; change all,
    And for a husband? no; these freedoms die,
    In which they live with my Virginity;
    'Tis in their choice that's rich to be a wife,
    But not being yoakt to chuse the single life.

    _Ver._ Madam.

    _Lam._ How like you the Countrey?

    _Ver._ I like the ayr of it well Madam, and the rather because,
    as on _Irish_ Timber your Spider will not make his web, so for
    ought I see yet your Cheater, Pander, and Informer being in their
    dispositions too foggy for this piercing climate, shun it, and
    chose rather to walk in mists in the City.

    _Lam._ Who did you serve first boy?

    _Ver._ A rich Merchants widow, and was by her preferred to a young
    Court-Lady.

    _L. Orl._ And what difference found you in their service?

    _Ver._ Very much: for look how much my old City Madam gave to
    her young visitants, so much my Lady received from her hoary
    Court-servants.

    _Lam._ And what made you to leave her?

    _Ver._ My father (Madam) had a desire to have me a tall-man, took
    me from thence.

    _Lam._ Well, I perceive you inherit the wag, from your father.

    _Ver._ Doves beget Doves; and Eagles, Eagles, Madam: A Citizen
    here, tho left never so rich, seldome at the best proves a
    Gentleman: the son of an Advocate, tho dub'd like his father, will
    shew a relish of his descent, and the fathers thriving practice,
    as I have heard: she that of a Chambermayd is metamorphosed into
    a Madam, will yet remember how oft her daughter by her mother
    ventured to lie upon the rushes before she could get in that which
    makes many Ladyes.

    _L. Orl._ But what think you of your late Master?

    _Ver._ Oh Madam--                                          [_Sighs._

    _Lam._ Why doe you sigh? you are sorry that you left him,
    He made a wanton of you.

    _Ver._ Not for that:
    Or if he did, for that my youth must love him.
    Oh pardon me, if I say liberty
    Is bondage, if compar'd with his kind service;
    And but to have power now to speak his worth
    To its desert; I should be well content
    To be an old man when his praise were ended:
    And yet, if at this instant you were pleased,
    I should begin, the livery of age
    Would take his lodging upon this head
    Ere I should bring it to a period.
    In brief he is a man (for [God] forbid
    That I should ever live to say he was
    Of such a shape as would make one beloved,
    That never had good thought;) and to his body
    He hath a mind of such a constant temper
    In which virtues throng to have a room:
    Yet 'gainst this noble Gentleman, this _Montague_,
    For in that name I comprehend all goodness,
    Wrong, and the wrested law, false witnesses,
    And envy sent from hell, have rose in Armes,
    And though not pierc'd, batter'd his honor'd shield.
    What shall I say? I hope you will forgive me,
    That if you were but pleas'd to love,
    I know no _Juno_ worthy such a _Jove_.

                     _Enter Charlot with a letter._

    _Lam._ 'Tis well yet that I have the second place
    In your affection: From whence?

    _Charl._ From the Lord _Amiens_, Madam.

    _Lam._ 'Tis wellcome, though it bear his usual language:
    I thought so much, his love-suit speaks his health.
    What's he that brought it?

    _Charl._ A Gentleman of good rank, it seems.

    _Lam._ Where is he?

    _Charl._ Receiving entertainment in your house
    Sorting with his degree.

    _Lam._ 'Tis well.

    _Charl._ He waits your Ladyships pleasure.

    _Lam._ He shall not wait long:
    I'll leave you for a while; nay stay you boy,
    Attend the Lady.                               [_Exeunt Lam. Charl._

    _Vir._ Would I might live once
    To wait on my poor Master.

    _L. Orl._ That's a good boy:
    This thankfulness looks lovely on thy forehead,
    And in it, as a book, me thinks I read
    Instructions for my self, that am his debtor,
    And wou'd do much that I might be so happy
    To repair that which to our grief is ruin'd.

    _Vir._ It were a work a King might glory in,
    If he saw with my eyes: If you please Madam,
    For sure to me you seem unapt to walk,
    To sit, although the churlish Birds deny
    To give us musick in this grove, where they
    Are prodigall to others: I'll strain my voyce
    For a sad Song, the place is safe and private.

    _L. Orl._ 'Twas my desire; begin good _Viramour_.

           _Musick, a Song, at the end of it enter Montague,_
                      _fainting, his Sword drawn._

    _L. Orl._ What's he _Viramour_?

    _Vir._ A goodly personage.

    _Mont._ Am I yet safe? or is my flight a dream?
    My wounds and hunger tell me that I wake:
    Whither have my fears born me? no matter where,
    Who hath no place to goe to, cannot err:
    What shall I do? cunning calamity!
    That others gross wits uses to refine,
    When I most need it duls the edg of mine.

    _L. Orl._ Is not this _Montagues_ voyce?

    _Vir._ My Masters? fie.

    _Mont._ What sound was that, 'pish,
    Fear makes the wretch think every leaf oth' Jury:
    What course to live, 'beg? better men have done it,
    But in another kind: steal? _Alexander_
    Though stil'd a Conqueror, was a proud thief,
    Though he rob'd with an Army; fie how idle
    These meditations are: though thou art worse
    Than sorrows tongue can speak thee, thou art still,
    Or shouldst be, honest _Montague_.

    _L. Orl._ 'Tis too true.

    _Vir._ 'Tis he: what villains hands did this? oh that my flesh
    Were Balm; in faith Sir, I would pluck it off
    As readily as this; pray you accept
    My will to do you service: I have heard
    The Mouse once sav'd the Lyon in his need,
    As the poor Scarab spild the Eagles seed.

    _L. Orl._ How do you?

    _Mont._ As a forsaken man.

    _L. Orl._ Do not say so, take comfort,
    For your misfortunes have been kind in this,
    To cast you on a hospitable shoar,
    Where dwels a Lady--

    _Vir._ She to whom, good Master,
    You prefer'd me.

    _L. Orl._ In whose house, whatsoere
    Your dangers are, I'll undertake your safety.

    _Mont._ I fear that I am pursued, and doubt that I,
    In my defence have kild an Officer.

    _Vir._ Is that all? there's no law under the Sun
    But will I hope confess, one drop of blood
    Shed from this arme is recompence enough
    Though you had cut the throats of all the Catchpoles
    In _France_, nay in the world.

    _Mont._ I would be loth
    To be a burthen, or feed like a drone
    On the industrious labor of a Bee,
    And baser far I hold it to owe for
    The bread I eat, what's not in me to pay;
    Then since my full fortunes are declin'd,
    To their low ebb I'll fashion my high mind.
    It was no shame to _Hecuba_, to serve
    When Troy was fir'd: if't be in your power
    To be a means to make her entertainment,
    And far from that I was; but to supply
    My want with habit fit for him that serves,
    I shall owe much to you.

    _L. Orl._ Leave that care to me.

    _Vir._ Good Sir, lean on my shoulder; help good Madam: oh that I
    were a horse for half an hour, that I might carry you home on my
    back: I hope you w[i]ll love me still?

    _Mont._ Thou dost deserve it boy, that I should live
    To be thus troublesome.

    _L. Orl._ Good Sir, 'tis none.

    _Vir._ Trouble? most willingly I would be chang'd
    Like _Apuleius_, weare his Asses ears,
    Provided I might still this burthen bear.

    _L. Orl._ 'Tis a kind boy.

    _Mont._ I find true proof of it.                          [_Exeunt._

             _Enter Amiens, and Longeville, with a Paper._

    _Ami._ You'll carry it.

    _Long._ As I live although my packet were like _Bellerophon's_,
    what have you seen in me or my behavior since your favors so
    plentifully showr'd upon my wants, that may beget distrust of my
    p[er]formance?

    _Ami._ Nay, be not angry, if I entertained
    But the least scruple of your love, or courage,
    I would make choyce of one which my estate
    Should do me right in this, nor can you blame me
    If in a matter of such consequence
    I am so importunate.

    _Long._ Good my Lord let me prevent your farther conjurations
    To rayse my spirit, I know this is a challenge
    To be delivered unto _Orlean[c]e_ hand,
    And that my undertaking ends not there,
    But I must be your second, and in that
    Not alone search your enemy, measure weapons,
    But stand in all your hazards, as our blouds
    Ran in the self-same veins, in which if I
    Better not your opinion, as a limb
    That's putrifi'd and useless, cut me off,
    And underneath the Gallows bury it.

    _Ami._ At full you understand me, and in this
    Bind me, and what's mine to you and yours,
    I will not so much wrong you as to add
    One syllable more, let it suffice I leave
    My honor to your guard: and in that prove,
    You hold the first place in my heart and love.           [_Ex. Ami._

    _Long._ The first place in a Lords affection? very good; and how
    long doth that last? perhaps the changing of some three shirts in
    the Tennis-Court; well, it were very necessary that an order were
    taken (if it were possible,) that younger brothers might have more
    wit, or more money: for now, however the fool hath long been put
    upon him that inherits, his revenue hath bought him a spunge, and
    wip't off the imputation, and for the understanding of the younger,
    let him get as much Rhetorick as he can, to grace his language.

                            _Enter_ Dubois.

    They will see, he shall have gloss little enough to set out his
    Bark; stand _Dubois_, look about, 's all safe?

    _Dub._ Approach not near me but with reverence Lawrel and
    adorations, I have done more than deserves a hundred thanks.

    _Long._ How now, what's the matter?

    _Dub._ With this hand, only aided by this brain,
    Without an _Orpheus_ Harp redeem'd from Hells
    Three headed Porter, our _Euridice_.

    _Long._ Nay, prethee speak sence, this is like the stale bragart in
    a Play.

    _Dub._ Then in plain Prose thus, and with as little action as
    thou canst desire, the three headed Porter, were three unexorable
    Catch-poles, out of whose jaws without the help of _Orpheus_ Harp,
    bait or bribe; for those two strings make the Musick, that molifies
    those flinty furies, I rescued our _Euridice_, I mean my old Master
    _Montague_.

    _Long._ And is this all? a poor rescue; I thought thou hadst
    revers'd the judgement for his overthrow in his sute, or wrought
    upon his adversary _Orleance_, taken the shape of a Ghost, frighted
    his mind into distraction, and for the appeasing of his conscience,
    forc'd him to make restitution of _Montague's_ Lands, or such
    like rescue; S'light I would have hired _Acrocheture_ for two
    _Cardekues_, to have done so much with his whip.

    _Dub._ You wood Sir, and yet 'tis more than three on their
    foot-cloaths durst do for a sworn Brother, in a Coach.

    _Long._ Besides, what proof's of it? for ought I know, this may be
    a trick, I had rather have him a prisoner, where I might visit him,
    and do him service, than not at all, or I know not where.

    _Dub._ Well Sir, the end will shew it, what's that, a challenge?

    _Long._ Yes, where's _Orleance_? though we fight in jest, he must
    meet with _Amiens_ in earnest,--fall off, we are discovered; my
    horse _garson_; ha!

    _Dub._ Were it not in a house, and in his presence,
    To whom I owe all duty--

    _Long._ What would it do? prate as it does? but be as far from
    striking, as he that owes it _Orleance_.

    _Dub._ How?

    _Long._ I think thou art his Porter,
    Set here to answer creditors, that his Lordship
    Is not within, or takes the diet: I am sent,
    And will grow here until I have an answer,
    Not to demand a debt of money, but
    To call him to a strict account for wrong
    Done to the honors of a Gentleman,
    Which nothing but his heart-bloud shall wash off.

    _Dub._ Shall I hear this?

    _Long._ And more, that if [I] may not
    Have access to him, I will fix this here
    To his disgrace and thine.

    _Dub._ And thy life with it.

    _Long._ Then have the copies of it pasted on posts,
    Like Pamphlet Titles, that sue to be sold;
    Have his disgrace talk for Tobacco-shops,
    His picture baffled.

    _Dub._ All respect away, wer't in a Church--           [_draw both._

    _Long._ This is the Book I pray with.

                           _Enter Orleance._

    _Orl._ Forbear upon your lives.

    _Long._ What are you rouz'd? I hope your Lordship can read (though
    he stain not his birth with Scholar-ship) doth it not please you
    now? if you are a right _Mounsieur_, muster up the rest of your
    attendance, which is a Page, a Cook, a Pander, Coach-man, and
    a Footman, in these days a great Lords train, pretending I am
    unworthy to bring you a challenge, instead of answering it, have me
    kick'd.

    _Dub._ If he does, thou deserv'st it.

    _Long._ I dare you all to touch me, I'll not stand still,
    What answer?

    _Orl._ That thou hast done to _Amiens_
    The office of a faithful friend, which I
    Would cherish in thee, were he not my foe,
    How ever since on honourable terms
    He calls me forth, say I will meet with him,
    And by _Dubois_ e'r Sun-set make him know
    The time and place, my swords length, and what ever
    Scruple of circumstance he can expect.

    _Long._ This answer comes unlookt for, fare you well,
    Finding your temper thus, wou'd I had said less.            [_Exit._

    _Orl._ Now comes thy love to the test.

    _Dub._ My Lord, 'twill hold,
    And in all dangers prove it self true Gold.               [_Exeunt._

            _Enter_ Laverdine, La-poop, Malicorn, _servant_.

    _Ser._ I will acquaint my Lady with your coming.
    Please you repose your selves here.

    _Mal._ There's a Tester, nay, now I am a wooer, I must be bountiful.

    _Ser._ If you would have two three-pences for it Sir, To give some
    of your kindred as you ride, I'll see if I can get them; we use not
    (tho servants) to take bribes.                                [_Ex._

    _Lav._ Then thou art unfit to be in office, either in Court or City.

    _La-p._ Indeed, corruption is a Tree, whose branches are of
    an unmeasurable length, they spread every where, and the dew,
    that drops from thence, hath infected some chairs and stools of
    authority.

    _Mal._ Ah Captain! lay not all the fault upon Officers, you know
    you can shark, tho you be out of action, witness _Montague_.

    _Lav._ Hang him, he's safe enough; you had a hand in it too, and
    have gained by him; but I wonder you Citizens, that keep so many
    books, and take such strict accounts for every farthing due to you
    from others, reserve not so much as a memorandum for the courtesies
    you receive.

    _Mal._ Would you have a Citizen book those? thankfulness is a
    thing, we are not sworn to in our Indentures: you may as well urge
    conscience.

    _Lav._ Talk no more of such vanities, _Mountague_ is irrecoverably
    sunk, I would we had twenty more to send after him; the Snake that
    would be a Dragon, and have wings, must eat; and what implies that,
    but this, that in this _Cannibal_ age, he that would have the sute
    of wealth, must not care ---- whom he feeds on? and as I have
    heard, no flesh battens better, then that of a profest friend;
    and he that would mount to honor, must not make dainty to use the
    head of his mother, back of his Father, or neck of his Brother, for
    ladders to his preferment; for, but observe, and you shall find for
    the most part, cunning villany sit at a Feast as principal guest,
    and innocent honesty wait as a contemn'd servant with a trencher.

    _La-p._ The Ladies.

             _Enter_ Montague _bare-headed_, Lamira, _Lady_
                Orleance, Charlotte _a[n]d_ V[e]ramour.

    _Mont._ Do ye smell nothing?

    _Char._ Not I Sir.

    _Mont._ The carrion of knaves is very strong in my nostrils.

    _Lav._ We came to admire, and find Fame was a niggard,
    Which we thought prodigal in our report
    Before we saw you.

    _Lam._ Tush Sir, this Courtship's old.

    _La-p._ I'll fight for thee, sweet wench,
    This is my tongue, and woes for me.

    _Lam._ Good man of War,
    Hands off; if you take me, it must be by siege,
    Not by an onset; and for your valour, I
    Think that I have de[ser]ved few enemies,
    And therefore need it not.

    _Mal._ Thou need'st nothing, sweet Lady, but an obsequious husband,
    and where wilt thou find him, if not in the City? We are true
    _Muscovites_ to our Wives, and are never better pleased, than when
    they use us as slaves, bridle and Saddle us; Have me, thou shalt
    command all my wealth as thine own, thou shalt sit like a Queen in
    my Ware-house; And my Factors at the return with my ships, shall
    pay thee tribute of all the rarities of the earth; thou shalt wear
    gold, feed on delicates, the first Peascods, Strawberries, Grapes,
    Cherries shall--

    _Lam._ Be mine; I apprehend what you would say,
    Those dainties which the City pays so dear for,
    The Countrey yields for nothing, and as early;
    And, credit me, your far-fet viands please not
    My appetite better than those that are near hand.
    Then for your promis'd service and subjection
    To all my humors, when I am your wife,
    Which [as] it seems, is frequent in the City,
    I cannot find what pleasure they receive
    In using their fond Husbands like their Maids;
    But of this, more hereafter: I accept
    Your proffer kindly, and yours; my house stands open
    To entertain you, take your pleasure in it,
    And ease after your journey.

    _La. Orl._ Do you note the boldness of the fellows?

    _Lam._ Alas Madam, a Virgin must in this be like a Lawyer,
    And as he takes all Fees; she must hear all suitors; the
    One for gain, the other for her mirth; stay with the
    Gentlemen, we'll to the Orchards.

                   [_Exeunt_ Lamira, _Lady_ Orleance, Vera. _and_ Charl.

    _La-p._ ---- What art thou?

    _Mont._ An honest man, though poor;
    And look they like to monsters, are they so rare?

    _Lav._ Rose from the dead.

    _Mal._ Do you hear Monsieur _Serviture_, didst thou never hear of
    one _Montague_, a prodigal gull, that lives about _Paris_?

    _Mont._ So Sir.

    _Lav._ One that after the loss of his main estate in a Lawsute,
    bought an Office in the Court.

    _La-p._ And should have Letters of _Mart_, to have the _Spanish_
    treasure as it came from the _Indies_; were not thou and he twins?
    put off thy Hat, let me see thy Fore-head.

    _Mont._ Though you take priviledge to use your tongue[s],
    I pray you hold your fingers,
    'Twas your base cozenag[e] made me as I am:
    And were you somewhere else, I would take off
    This proud film from your eyes, that will not let you,
    Know I am _Montague_.

                   _Enter_ Lamira _behind the Arras_.

    _Lam._ I will observe this better.

    _Lav._ And art thou he? I will do thee grace; give me thy hand: I
    am glad thou hast taken so good a course; serve God, and please thy
    Mistriss; if I prove to be thy Master, as I am very like[l]y, I
    will do for thee.

    _Mal._ Faith the fellow's well made for a Serving-man, and will no
    doubt, carry a chine of Beef with a good grace.

    _La-p._ Prethee be careful of me in my chamber, I will remember
    thee at my departure.

    _Mont._ All this I can endure under this roof,
    And so much owe I her, whose now I am,
    That no wrong shall incense me to molest,
    Her quiet house, while you continue here,
    I will not be ashamed to do you service
    More than to her, because such is her pleasure.
    But you that have broke thrice, and fourteen times
    Compounded for two shillings in the pound,
    Know I dare kick you in your shop; do you hear?
    If ever I see _Paris_, though an Army
    Of musty Murrions, rusty brown Bills and Clubs,
    Stand for your guard--I have heard of your tricks,
    And you that smell of Amber at my charge,
    And triumph in your cheat; well, I may live
    To meet thee, be it among a troop of such
    That are upon the fair face of the Court
    Like running Ulcers, and before thy whore
    Trampel upon thee.

    _La-p._ This a language for a Livery? take heed, I am a Captain.

    _Mont._ A Coxcomb are you not? that thou and I,
    To give proof, which of us dares most, were now
    In midst of a rough Sea, upon a piece
    Of a split Ship, where only one might ride,

                                               [Lamira _from the Arras_.

    I would--but foolish anger makes me talk
    Like a Player.

    _Lam._ Indeed you act a part
    Doth ill become you my servant; is this your duty?

    _Mont._ I crave your pardon, and will hereafter be more circumspect.

    _Lav._ Oh the power of a Womans tongue: it hath done more than we
    three with our swords durst undertake; put a mad man to silence.

    _Lam._ Why sirrah, these are none of your comrades
    To drink with in the Cellar; one of them
    For ought you know, may live to be your Master.

    _La-p._ There's some comfort yet.

    _Lam._ Here's choice of three, a wealthy Merchant.

    _Mal._ Hem, she's taken, she hath spy'd my good Calf,
    And many Ladies chuse their Husbands by that.

    _Lam._ A Courtier that's in grace, a valiant Captain,
    And are these mates for you, away, begone.

    _Mont._ I humbly pray you will be pleased to pardon,
    And to give satisfaction to you Madam,
    (Although I break my heart) I will confess
    That I have wrong'd them too, and make submission.

    _Lam._ No I'll spare that; go bid the Cook haste supper. [_Exit_ Mont.

    _La-p._ Oh brave Lady, thou art worthy to have servants, to be
    commandress of a Family, that knowest how to use and govern it.

    _Lav._ You shall have many Mistresses that will so mistake, as to
    take their Horse-keepers, and Footmen instead of their Husbands,
    thou art none of those.

    _Mal._ But she that can make distinction of men, and knows when she
    hath gallants, and fellows of rank and quality in her house--

    _Lam._ Gallants indeed, if it be the Gallants fashion
    To triumph in the miseries of a man,
    Of which they are the cause: one that transcends
    (In spight of all that fortune hath, or can be done)
    A million of such things as you, my doors
    Stand open to receive all such as wear
    The shape of Gentlemen, and my gentl[i]er nature
    (I might say weaker) weighs not the expence
    Of entertainment; think you I'll forget yet
    What's due unto my self? do not I know,
    That you have dealt with poor _Montague_, but like
    Needy Commanders, cheating Citizens,
    And perjur'd Courtiers? I am much mov'd, else use not
    To say so much, if you will bear your selves
    As fits such, you would make me think you are,
    You may stay; if not, the way lies before you.              [_Exit._

    _Mal._ What think you of this Captain?

    _La-p._ That this is a bawdy-house, with Pinacles and Turrets, in
    which this disguised _Montague_ goes to Rut _gratis_, and that this
    is a landed pandress, and makes her house a brothel for charity.

    _Mal._ Come, that's no miracle; but from whence derive you the
    supposition?

    _Lav._ Observe but the circumstance; you all know that in the
    height of _Mountagues_ prosperity, he did affect, and had his love
    return'd by this Lady _Orleans_; since her divorcement, and his
    decay of estate, it is known they have met, not so much as his boy
    [is] wanting; and that this can be any thing else than a meer plot
    for their night-work, is above my imagination to conceive.

    _Mal._ Nay, it carries probability, let us observe it better, but
    yet with such caution, as our prying be not discovered; here's all
    things to be had without cost, and therefore good staying here.

    _La-p._ Nay, that's true, I would we might wooe her twenty years,
    like _Penelopes_ sutors; come _Laverdine_.

                                               [_Exeunt_ Malli. La Poop.

    _Lav._ I follow instantly, yonder he is.

                            _Enter_ Viramor.

    The thought of this boy hath much cool'd my affection to his Lady,
    and by all conjectures, this is a disguised whore; I will try if I
    can search this Mine, Page--

    _Ver._ Your pleasure, Sir?

    _Lav._ Thou art a pretty boy.

    _Ver._ And you a brave man: now I am out of your debt.

    _Lav._ Nay, prethee stay.

    _Ver._ I am in haste, Sir.

    _Lav._ By the faith of a Courtier.

    _Ver._ Take heed what you say, you have taken a strange oath.

    _Lav._ I have not seen a youth that hath pleased me better; I would
    thou couldst li[k]e me, so far as to leave thy Lady and wait on me,
    I would maintain thee in the bravest cloaths.

    _Ver._ Though you took them up on trust, or bought 'em at the
    Brokers.

    _Lav._ Or any way: then thy imployments should be so neat and
    cleanly, thou shouldst not touch a pair of pantables in a month,
    and thy lodging--

    _Ver._ Should be in a brothel.

    _Lav._ No, but in mine arms.

    _Ver._ That may be the circle of a Bawdy-house, or worse.

    _Lav._ I mean thou should'st lye with me.

    _Ver._ Lie with you? I had rather lye with my Ladies Monkey;
    'twas never a good world, since our French Lords learned of the
    _Neapolitans_, to make their Pages their Bed-fellows, doth more
    hurt to the Suburb Ladies, than twenty dead vacations; 'Tis supper
    time, Sir.                                            [_Exit_ Veram.

    _Lav._ I thought so, I know by that 'tis a woman, for because,
    peradventure she hath made trial of the Monkey, she prefers him
    before me, as one unknown; well, these are standing creatures, and
    have strange desires; and men must use strange means to quenc[h]
    strange fires.                                              [_Exit._




_Actus Quartus. Scæna Prima._


                _Enter_ Montague _alone in mean habit_.

    _Mont._ Now _Montague_, who discerns thy spirit now?
    Thy breeding, or thy bloud? here's a poor cloud
    Eclipseth all thy splendor; who can read
    In thy pale face, dead eye, or _lenten shute_,
    The liberty thy ever-giving hand
    Hath bought for others, manacling it self
    In gyves of parchment indissoluble?
    The greatest hearted man supplyed with means,
    Nobility of birth and gentlest parts,
    I thought the right hand of his Sovereign,
    If virtue quit her seat in his high soul,
    Glitters but like a Palace set on fire,
    Whose glory whilst it shines, but ruins him,
    And his bright show each hour to ashes tending
    Shall at the last be rak'd up like a sparkle,
    Unless mens lives and fortunes feed the flame.
    Not for my own wants, though blame I my Stars,
    But suffering others to cast love on me,
    When I can neither take, nor thankful be.
    My Ladies woman, fair and virtuous
    Young as the present month, sollicites me
    For love and marriage now being nothing worth--

                           _Enter_ Veramour.

    _Ver._ Oh! Master, I have sought you a long hour,
    Good faith, I never joy'd out of your sight;
    For Heavens sake, Sir, be merry, or else bear
    The buffets of your fortunes with more scorn;
    Do but begin to rail, teach me the way,
    And I'll sit down, and help your anger forth:
    I have known you wear a suit; full worth a Lordship,
    Give to a man whose need ne'er frighted you
    From calling of him friend, five hundred Crowns
    E'er sleep had left your sences to consider
    Your own important present uses; yet
    Since I have seen you with a t[r]encher wait,
    Void of all scorn, therefore I'll wait on you.

    _Mont._ Would [God] thou wert less honest.

    _Ver._ Would to [God] you were less worthy: I am ev'n w'e Sir.

    _Mon._ Is not thy Master strangely fall'n, when thou
    Servest for no wages, but for charity?
    Thou dost surcharge me with thy plenteous love:
    The goodness of thy virtue shown to me,
    More opens still my disability
    To quit thy pains: credit me loving boy,
    A free and honest nature may be opprest,
    Tir'd with courtesies from a liberal spirit,
    When they exceed his means of gratitude.

    _Ver._ But 'tis a due in him that to that end
    Extends his love or duty.

    _Mont._ Little world
    Of virtue, why dost love and follow me?

    _Ver._ I will follow you through all Countreys,
    I'll run (fast as I can) by your horse side,
    I'll hold your stirrop when you do alight,
    And without grudging, wait till you return:
    I'll quit offer'd means, and expose my self
    To cold and hunger, still to be with you;
    Fearless I'll travel through a wilderness,
    And when you are weary, I will lay me down
    That in my bosom you may rest your head,
    Where whilst you sleep, I'll watch, that no wild beast
    Shall hurt or trouble you: and thus we'll breed a story
    To make every hearer weep,
    When they disco[u]rse our fortunes and our loves.

    _Mont._ Oh what a scoff might men of women make,
    If they did know this boy? but my desire
    Is, that thou wouldest not (as thou usest still:
    When like a servant, I 'mong servants sit)
    Wait on my Trencher, fill my cups with Wine:
    Why should'st thou do this boy? prethee consider,
    I am not what I was.

    _Ver._ Curst be the day when I forget that _Montague_ was my Lord,
    or not remember him my Master still.

    _Mont._ Rather curse me, with whom thy youth hath spent,
    So many hours, and yet untaught to live
    By any worldly quality.

    _Ver._ Indeed you never taught me how to handle Cards
    To cheat and cozen men with oaths and lies:
    Those are the worldly qualities to live:
    Some of our scarlet Gallants teach their boys
    These worldly qualities.
    Since stumbling fortune then leaves virtue thus
    Let me leave fortune, e'r be vicious.

    _Mon._ Oh lad, thy love will kill me.

    _Ver._ In truth, I think in conscience [I] shall dye for you:
    Good Master weep not, do you want aught, Sir?
    Will you have any money, here's some Silver;
    And here's a little Gold, 'twill serve to play,
    And put more troublesome thoughts out of your mind:
    I pray Sir take it, I'll get more with singing.
    And then I'll bring it you, my Lady ga't me,
    And--it was not covetousness,
    But I forgot to tell you sooner on't.

    _Mont._ Alas boy, thou art not bound to tell it me,
    And less to give it, buy thee Scarfs and Garters,
    And when I have money, I will give thee a sword:
    Nature made thee a beauteous Cabinet
    To lock up [all] the goodness of the earth.

                           _Enter Charlote._

    _Ver._ I have lost my voice with the very sight of this
    Gentlewoman: good Sir steal away, you were wont to be a curious
    avoider of womens company.

    _Mont._ Why boy, thou dar'st trust me any where, dar'st thou not?

    _Ver._ I had rather trust you by a roaring Lion, than a ravening
    woman.

    _Mont._ Why boy?

    _Ver._ Why truly she devours more mans flesh--

    _Mont._ I, but she roars not boy.

    _Ver._ No Sir, why she is never silent but when her mouth is full.

    _Charl._ Monsieur _Montague_.

    _Mont._ My sweet fellow, since you please to call me so.

    _Ver._ Ah my conscience, she wou'd be pleas'd well enough to call
    you bed-fellow: oh Master, do not hold her by the hand so: a woman
    is a Lime-bush, that catcheth all she toucheth.

    _Charl._ I do most dangerously suspect this boy to be a wench; art
    thou not one? come hither, let me feel thee.

    _Ver._ With all my heart.

    _Charl._ Why dost thou pull off thy Glove?

    _Ver._ Why, to feel whether you be a boy, or no.

    _Charl._ Fie boy, go too. I'll not look your head, nor comb your
    locks any more, if you talk thus.

    _Ver._ Why, I'll sing to you no more then.

    _Charl._ Fie upon't, how sad you are! a young Gentleman that was
    the very Sun of _France_.

    _Mont._ But I am in the eclipse now.

    _Cha[r]l._ Suffer himself to be over-run with a Lethargy of
    melancholy and discontent! rouze up thy spirit, man, and shake it
    off:

    A Noble Soul is like a Ship at Sea,
    That sleeps at Anchor when the Ocean's calm;
    But when she rages, and the wind blows high,
    He cuts his way with skill and Majesty.
    I would turn a Fool, or Poet, or any thing, or marry, to
    make you merry; prethee let's walk: good _Veramour_, leave
    thy Master and me, I have earnest business with him.

    _Ver._ Pray do you leave my Master, and me: we were very merry
    before you came, he does not covet womens company.

    What have you to do with him? come Sir will you go?
    And I'll sing to you again:

    I'faith his mind is stronger than to credit Womens vows, and too
    pure to be capable of their loves.

    _Charl._ The boy is jealo[u]s, sweet lad leave us: my Lady call'd
    for you I swear: that's a good child, there's a piece of Gold for
    thee, go buy a Feather.

    _Ver._ There's two pieces for you, do you go and buy one, or what
    you will, or nothing, so you go. Nay then I see you would have me
    go, Sir; why, I'faith I will, now I perceive you love her better
    than you do me; but [God] bless you whatever you do, or intend, I
    know you are a very honest man.                             [_Exit._

    _Charl._ Still [shall] I wooe thee, whilst thy ears reply
    I cannot, or I will not marry thee?
    Why hast thou drawn the bloud out of my cheeks,
    And given a quicker motion to my heart?
    Oh thou hast bred a Feaver in my veins
    Call'd love, which no Physitian can cure;
    Have mercy on a Maid, whose simple youth--

    _Mont._ How your example, fairest, teacheth me
    A ceremonious Idolatry!                                   [_Kneels._
    By all the joy of love, I love thee better,
    Than I or any man can tell another;
    And will express the mercy which thou crav'st,
    I will forbear to marry thee: consider
    Thou art Nature's heir in feature, and thy parents,
    In fair Inheritances; rise with these thoughts,
    And look on me; but with a womans eye,
    A decaid fellow, void of means and spirit.

    _Charl._ Of spirit?

    _Mont._ Yes, could I tamely live,
    Forget my Fathers bloud, wait, and make legs,
    Stain my best breeches, with the servile drops
    That fall from others draughts.

    _Charl._ This vizard wherewith thou wouldst hide thy spirit,
    Is perspective, to shew it plainlier.
    This undervalue of thy life, is but
    Because I should not buy thee, what more speaks
    Greatness of man, than valiant patience,
    That shrinks not under his fates strongest strokes?
    These _Roman_ deaths, as falling on a sword,
    Opening of veins, with poison quenching thirst,
    (Which we erroneously do stile the deeds
    Of the heroick and magnanimous man)
    Was dead-ey'd cowardize, and white-cheek'd fear,
    Who doubting tyranny, and fainting under
    Fortunes false Lottery, desperately run
    To death, for dread of death; that soul's most stout,
    That bearing all mischance, dares last it out;
    Will you perform your word, and marry me,
    When I shall call you to't?

                _Enter_ Longueville _with a riding-rod_.

    _Mont._ I'faith I will.

    _Charl._ Who's this alights here?

    _Long._ With leave, fair creature, are you the Lady Mistriss of the
    house?

    _Charl._ Her servant, Sir.

    _Long._ I pray then favour me, to inform your Lady, and Duke
    _Orleans_ wife,

    A business of import awaits 'em here,
    And craves for speedy answer.

    _Charl._ Are you in post, Sir?

    _Long._ No, I am in Satin, Lady; I would you would be in post.

    _Charl._ I will return, Sweet.                              [_Exit._

    _Long._ Honest friend, do you belong to the house? I pray be
    covered.

    _Mont._ Yes Sir, I do.

    _Long._ Ha, dream'st thou _Longaville_? sure 'tis not he: Sir I
    should know you.

    _Mont._ So should I you, but that I am asham'd.
    But though thou know'st me, prethee _Longaville_,
    Mock not my poverty, pray remember your self;
    Shows it not strangely for thy cloaths to stand
    Without a Hat to mine? mock me no more.

    _Long._ The ---- embroider me all over, Sir,
    If ever I began to mock you yet.
    The ---- on me, why should I wear Velvet
    And Silver Lace? ---- I will tear it off.

    _Mont._ Why Mad-man?

    _Long._ Put on my Hat? yes, when I am hang'd I will:
    ---- I could break my head.
    For holding eyes that knew not you at first:
    But time and fortune run your courses with him,
    He'll laugh and storm you, when you shew most hate.

          _Enter_ Lamira, Orlean's _Lady_, Laverdine, La Poop,
                      Malycorn, Veramour, Charlot.

    _Lam._ You're a fair Mounsieur.

    _Long._ Do you mock me, Lady?

    _Lam._ Your business, Sir, I mean.

    _Lady._ Regard your self good Mounsieur _Longueville_.

    _Lam._ You are too negligent of your self and place,
    Cover your head sweet Mounsieur.

    _Long._ Mistake me not fair Ladies,
    'Tis not to you, nor you, that I stand bare.

    _Lav._ Nay sweet dear Mounsieur, let it not be to us then.

    _La Poop._ ---- A compliment.

    _Mal._ And ---- of manners.
    Pray hide your head, your gallants use to do't.

    _Long._ And you your foreheads, why you needful accessary rascals,
    That cannot live without your mutual knaveries,
    More than a Bawd, a Pandor, or a Whore
    From one another; how dare you suspect
    That I stand bare to you? what make you here?
    Shift your house, Lady of 'em, for I know 'em,
    They come to steal Napkins, and your Spoons;
    Look to your Silver-bodkin, (Gentlewoman)
    'Tis a dead _Utensil_, and Page 'ware your pockets;
    My reverence is unto this man, my Master,
    Whom you, with protestations, and oaths
    As high as Heaven, as deep as Hell, which would
    Deceive the wisest man of honest nature,
    Have cozen'd and abus'd; but I may meet you,
    And beat you one with th' other.

    _Mont._ Peace, no more.

    _Long._ Not a word, Sir.

    _Lav._ I am something thick of hearing; what said he?

    _La poop._ I hear him, but regard him not.

    _Mal._ Nor I, I am never angry fasting.

    _Long._ My love keeps back my duty, noblest Lady;
    If Husband or brother merit love from you,
    Prevent their dangers, this hour brings to trial
    Their hereto sleeping hates; by this time each
    Within a yard is of the others heart,
    And met to prove their causes and their spirits
    With their impartial swords points; haste and save,
    Or never meet them more, but at the grave.

    _Lady._ Oh my distracted heart, that my wrackt honor
    Should for a Brothers, or a Husbands life, through thy undoing, die.

    _Lam. Amiens_ engag'd; if he miscarry all my hopes and joys,
    I now confess it loudly, are undone:
    Caroch, and haste, one minute may betray
    A life more worth than all time can repay.

                                              [_Exeunt Ladies and_ Mont.

    _Mal._ Hump: Monsieur _Laverdine_ pursues this boy extreamly,
    Captain, what will you do?

    _La p._ Any thing but follow to this Land-service; I am a
    Sea-Captain you know, and to offer to part 'em, without we could
    do't like Watermen with long staves, a quarter of a mile off, might
    be dangerous.

    _Mal._ Why then let's retire and pray for 'em, I am resolv'd to
    stop your intent; abus'd more than we have been we cannot be,
    without they fall to flat beating on's.

                                                [_Exeunt_ Maly, La-poop.

    _Lav._ And that were unkindly done i'faith.

    _Ver._ But you are the trou[b]lesomest Ass that e'er I met with;
    retire, you smell like a womans chamber, that's newly up, before
    she have pinsht her vapours in with her cloaths.

    _Lav._ I will haunt thee like thy Grandames Ghost, thou shalt never
    rest for me.

    _Ver._ Well, I perceive 'tis vain to conceal a secret from you:
    believe it Sir, indeed I am a woman.

    _Lav._ Why la; I knew't, this Prophetical tongue of mine never
    fail'd me; my mother was half a witch, never any thing that she
    forespake, but came to pass: a woman? how happy am I! now we may
    lawfully come together without fear of hanging; sweet wench, be
    gracious, in honourable sort I woe, no otherwise.

    _Ver._ Faith, the truth is, I have loved you long.

    _Lav._ See, see.

    _Ver._ But durst not open it.

    _Lav._ ---- I think so.

    _Ver._ But briefly, when you bring it to the test, if there be not
    one Gentleman in this house, will challenge more interest in me,
    than you can, I am at your disposure.                       [_Exit._

    _Lav._ Oh _Fortunatus_, I envy thee not
    For Cap, or pouch, this day I'll prove my Fortune,
    In which your Lady doth elect her Husband,
    Who will [b]e _Amiens_, 'twill save my wedding dinner,
    _Povera_, _La Poop_, and _Malicorn_: if all fail,
    I will turn Citizen, a beauteous wife
    Is the Horn-book to the richest Tradesmans life.          [_Exeunt._

          _Enter_ Duboys, Orleans, Longueville, Amiens, _two_
                  _Lacques, a Page with two Pistols_.

    _Dub._ Here's a good even piece of ground my Lords:
    Will you fix here?

    _Orl._ Yes, any where; Lacquey, take off my spurs;
    Upon a bridge, a rail, but my swords breadth upon a battlement,
    I'll fight this quarrel.

    _Dub._ O' the Ropes, my Lord.

    _Orl._ Upon a Line.

    _Dub._ So all our Countrey Duels are carried, like a firework on a
    thred.

    _Orl._ Go now, stay with the horses, and, do you hear?
    Upon your lives, till some of us come to you,
    Dare not to look this way.

    _Dub._ Except you see strangers or others that by chance or purpose
    are like to interrupt us.

    _Orl._ Then give warning.

    _Long._ Who takes a sword? the advantage is so small,
    As he that doubts, hath the free leave to choose.

    _Orl._ Come, give me any, and search me; 'tis not
    The ground, weapon, or seconds that can make
    Odds in those fatal trials: but the cause.

    _Ami._ Most true, and, but it is no time to wish
    When men are come to do, I would desire
    The cause 'twixt us were other than it is;
    But where the right is, there prevail our Swords.
    And if my Sister have out-liv'd her honor,
    I do not pray I may out-live her shame.

    _Orl._ Your Sister _Amiens_, is a whore, at once.

    _Ami._ You oft have spoke that sence to me before,
    But never in th[i]s language _Orleance_;
    And when you spoke it fair, and first, I told you
    That it was possible you might be abus'd:
    But now, since you forget your manners, you shall find,
    If I transgress my custom, you do lye,
    And are a villain, which I had rather yet
    My sword had prov'd, than I been forc'd to speak:
    Nay, give us leave, and since you stand so haughtily
    And highly on your cause, let you and I,
    Without engaging these two Gentlemen, singly determine it.

    _Long._ My Lord, you'll pardon us.

    _Dub._ I trust your Lordships may not do us that affront.

    _Ami._ As how?

    _Dub._ We kiss your Lordships hand, and come to serve you here with
    swords.

    _Long._ My Lord, we understand our selves.

    _Dub._ We have had the honor to be call'd unto the business, and we
    must not now quit it on terms.

    _Ami._ Not terms of reason?

    _Long._ No, no [r]eason for the quitting of our calling.

    _Dub._ True, if I be call'd to't I must ask no reason.

    _Long._ Nor hear none neither, which is less:
    It is a favour, if my throat be cut,
    Your Lordship does me; which I never can,

                        [_A noise-within, crying down with your swords._

    Nor must have hope how to requite: what noise?
    What cry is that my Lord upon your guard?
    So[me] treachery is a foot.

                _Enter Lady_ Orleans, Lamira, Montague.

    _Lady._ Oh here they are:
    My Lord (dear Lady help me) help me all;
    I have so woful interest in both,
    I know not which to fear for most: and yet
    I must prefer my Lord. Dear brother,
    You are too understanding, and too noble
    To be offended, when I know my duty,
    Though scarce my tears will let me so to do it.

    _Orl._ Out loathed strumpet.

    _Lady._ Oh my dearest Lord,
    If words could on me cast the name of whore,
    I then were worthy to be loath'd; but know,
    Your unkindness cannot make me wicked;
    And therefore should less use that power upon me.

    _Orl._ Was this your Art to make these Actors come,
    To make this interlude? withdraw, cold man,
    And if thy spirit be not frozen up,
    Give me one stroke yet at thee for my vengeance.

    _Ami._ Thou shalt have strokes, and strokes, thou glorious man,
    Till thou breath'st thinner air than that thou talkest.

    _Lam._ My Lord, Count _Amiens_.

    _Lady._ Princely Husband.

    _Orl._ Whore.

    [_Lam._] You wrong her impudent Lord; oh that I had the bulk
    Of those dull men; look how they stand, and no man
    Will revenge an innocent Lady.

    _Ami._ You hinder it Madam.

    _Lam._ I would hinder you; is there none else to kill him?

    _Lady._ Kill him, Madam? have you learn'd that bad language? oh repent,
    And be the motive, rather both kill me.

    _Orl._ Then d[i]e my infamy.

    _Mont._ Hold bloody man.

    _Orl._ Art thou there Basilisk?

    _Mont._ To strike thee dead, but that thy fate deserves some
    weightier hand.

    _Dub._ Sweet my Lord.

    _Orl._ Oh here's a plot; you bring your champions with you; the
    adultress with the adulterer: Out howling--

    _Dub._ Good my Lord.

    _Orl._ Are you her Graces countenancer, Lady, the receiver to the
    poor vicious couple.

    _Dub._ Sweet my Lord.

    _Orl._ Sweet rascal, didst not tho[u] tell me, false fellow,
    This _Montague_ here was murdered?

    _Dub._ I did so; but he was falser, and a worthless Lord,
    Like thy foul self that would have had it so.

    _Long. Orleance_ 'tis true, and shall be prov'd upon thee.

    _Mont._ Thy malice Duke, and this thy wicked nature, are all as
    visible as thou; but I born to contemn thy injuries, do know, that
    though thy greatness may corrupt a Jury, and make a Judge afraid,
    and carry out a world of evils with thy Title: yet thou art not
    quiet at home, thou bearest about thee that, that doth charge thee,
    and condemn thee too. The thing that grieves me more, and doth
    indeed displease me, is, to think that so much baseness stands here
    to have encountred so much honor: Pardon me my Lord, what late my
    passion spake, when you provok'd my innocence.

    _Orl._ Yes, do, oh! flattery becomes him better than the suit he
    wears; give him a new one, _Amiens_.

    _Ami. Orleance_, 'tis here no time nor place, to jest or rail
    Poorly with you, but I will find a time to
    Whisper you forth to this, or some fit place,
    As shall not hold a second interruption.

    _Mont._ I hope your Lordships honor, and your life
    Are destined unto higher hazards; this is of
    A meaner arm.

    _Dub._ Yes faith, or none.

    _Long._ He is not fit to fall by an honest Sword,
    A Prince and lye!

    _Dub._ And slander, and hire men
    To publish the false rumours he hath made.

    _Long._ And stick 'em on his friends, and innocents.

    _Dub._ And practice against their lives after their fames.

    _Long._ In men that are the matter of all lewdness,
    Bawds, Thieves, and Cheaters, it were monstrous.

    _Dub._ But in a man of bloud, how more conspicuous!

    _Ami._ Can this be?

    _Lady._ They do slander him.

    _Orl._ Hang them, a pair of railing hangbies.

    _Long._ How? stand _Orleance_; stay, give me my Pistols boy,
    Hinder me not, by----
    I will kill him.

    _Lady._ Oh, stay his fury.

    _Ami. Longueville_, my friend.

    _Long._ Not for my self, my Lord, but for mankind,
    And all that have an interest to virtue,
    Or title unto innocence.

    _Ami._ Why hear me.

    _Long._ For justice sake.

    _Ami._ That cannot be.

    _Long._ To punish his wives, your honor, and my Lords wrongs here,
    whom I must ever call so; for your loves I'll swear I'll sacrifice--

    _Ami. Longueville_, I did not think you a murtherer before.

    _Long._ I care not what you thought me.

    _Ami._ By ---- If thou attempt
    His life, thy own is forfeit.

    _Mont._ Foolish frantick man, the murder will be of us, not him.

    _Lady._ Oh [God]!

    _Mont._ We could have kill'd him, but we would not take
    The justice out of fates.--
    Sindge but a hair of him, thou diest.

    _Long._ No matter, shoot.

    _Ami._ Villain.

    _Dub._ My Lord, your Sister is slain.

    _Ami. Biancha?_

    _Mont._ Oh hapless, and most wretched chance.

    _Lam._ Standst thou looking upon the mischief thou hast made?
    Thou godless man, feeding thy blood-shot eyes
    With the red spectacle, and art not turn'd to stone
    With horror? Hence, and take the wings of thy black
    Infamy, to carry thee beyond the shoot of looks,
    Or sound of curses, which will pursue thee still:
    Thou hast out-fled all but thy guilt.

    _Orl._ Oh wish it off again, for I am crack'd
    Under the burden, and my heart will break.
    How heavy guilt is, when men come to feel
    If you could know the mountain I sustain
    With horror, you would each take off your part,
    And more, to ease me: I cannot stand,
    Forgive where I have wrong'd, I pray.

    _Ami._ Look to him _Montague_.

    _Long._ My Lords and Gentlemen, the Lady is well, but for fear,
    Unless that have shot her;
    I have the worst on't, that needs would venture
    Upon a trick had like to ha' cost my guts:
    Look to her, she'll be well, it was but Powder
    I charg'd with, thinking that a guilty man
    Would have been frighted sooner; but I'm glad
    He's come at last.

    _La[m]._ How is _Byancha_? well?

    _Ami._ Lives she? see Sister, doth she breathe?

    _Lady._ Oh Gentlemen, think you I can breathe,
    That am restored to the hateful sense
    Of feeling in me my dear husbands death?
    Oh no, I live not; life was that I left;
    And what you have call'd me to, is death indeed:
    I cannot weep so fast as he doth bleed.

    _Dub._ Pardon me, Madam, he is well.

    _Lady._ Ha my Husband.

    _Orl._ I cannot speak whether my joy or shame
    Be greater, but I thank the Heavens for both.
    Oh look not black upon me, all my friends,
    To whom I will be reconcil'd, or grow unto
    This earth, till I have wept a trench
    That shall be great enough to be my grave,
    And I will think them too most manly tears,
    If they do move your pities: it is true,
    Man should do nothing that he should repent;
    But if he have, and say that he is sorry,
    It is a worse fault, if he be not truly.

    _Lam._ My Lord, such sorrow cannot be suspected:
    Here take your honoured wife, and joyn your hands.
    ----She hath married you again:
    And Gentlemen, I do invite you all,
    This night to take my house, where on the morrow,
    To heighten more the reconciling feast,
    I'll make my self a Husband and a guest.                  [_Exeunt._




_Actus Quintus. Scæna Prima._


                   _Enter_ Montague, _and_ Charlotte.

    _Charl._ Well now I am sure you are mine.

    _Mont._ I am sure I am glad
    I have one to own then; you'll find me honest
    As these days go, enough; poor without question,
    Which beggars hold a virtue; give me meat, and I
    Shall do my work, else knock my shooes off,
    And turn me out again.

    _Char._ You are a merry fellow.

    _Mont._ I have no great cause.

    _Char._ Yes, thy love to me.

    _Mont._ That's as we make our game.

    _Char._ Why, you repent then?

    _Mont._ Faith no worse than I am I cannot be;
    Much better I expect not: I shall love you,
    And when you bid me go to bed, obey,
    Lie still or move, as you shall minister;
    Keep a four-Nobles Nag, and a _Jack_
    _Merling_, learn to love Ale, and play at Two-hand _Irish_,
    And there's then all I aim at.

    _Char._ Nay sweet fellow, I'll make it something better.

    _Mont._ If you do, you'll make me worse:
    Now I am poor, and willing to do well,
    Hold me in that course; of all the Kings creatures,
    I hate his coin, keep me from that, and save me;
    For if you chance out of your housewivery
    To leave a hundred pound or two, bestow it
    In Plumb-broth e'r I know it, else I take it;
    Seek out a hundred men that want this money,
    Share it among 'em, they'll cry noble _Montague_,
    And so I stand again at livery.

    _Char._ You have pretty fancies, Sir, but married once,
    This charity will fall home to your self.

    _Mont._ I would it would, I am afraid my looseness
    Is yet scarce stopt, though it have nought to work on
    But the meer air of what I have had.

    _Char._ Pretty.

    _Mont._ I wonder sweet heart why you'll marry me,
    I can see nothing in my self deserves it,
    Unless the handsome wearing of a band,
    For that's my stock now, or a pair of garters;
    Necessity will not let me loose.

    _Char._ I see Sir, a great deal more, a handsome man, a Husband,
    To make a right good woman truly happy.

    _Mont._ Lord, where are my eyes, either you are foolish
    As wenches once a year are, or far worse,
    Extreamly virtuous, can you love a poor man
    That relies on cold meat, and cast stockings,
    One only suit to his back, which now is mewing?
    But what will be the next coat will pose _Tristram_.
    If I should leavy from my friends a fortune:
    I could not raise ten groats to pay the Priest now.

    _Char._ I'll do that duty; 'tis not means nor money
    Makes me pursue your love; were your mind bankrupt,
    I would never love you.

                            _Enter_ Lamira.

    _Mont._ Peace wench, here's my Lady.

    _Lam._ Nay, never shrink i'th' wetting, for my presence;
    D'ye find her willing _Montague_?

    _Mont._ Willing Madam?

    _Lam._ How dainty you make of it, do not I know
    You two love one another?

    _Mont._ Certain Madam, I think ye'ave revelations of these matters:
    Your Ladyship cannot tell me when I kist her.

    _Lam._ But she can, Sir.

    _Mont._ But she will not Madam;
    For when they talk once, 'tis like Fairy-Money,
    They get no more close kisses.

    _Lam._ Thou art wanton.

    _Mont._ [God] knows I need not, yet I would be lusty:
    But ---- my Provender scarce pricks me.

    _Lam._ It shall be mended _Montague_, I am glad you are
    grown so merry.

    _Mont._ So am I too Madam.

    _Lam._ You two will make a pretty handsome Consort.

    _Mont._ Yes Madam, if my Fiddle fail me not.

    _Lam._ Your Fiddle? why your Fiddle? I warrant thou
    meanest madly:

    _Mont._ Can you blame me? alas I am in love.

    _Char._ 'Tis very well, Sir.

    _Lam._ How long have you been thus?

    _Mont._ How thus in love?

    _Lam._ You are very quick, Sir: no, I mean thus pleasant.

    _Mont._ --Ever since I was poor.

    _Lam._ A little wealth would change you then?

    _Mont._ Yes Lady, into another suit, but never more
    Into another man: I'll bar that mainly,
    The wealth I get hence-forward shall be charm'd
    For ever hurting me, I'll spend it fasting:
    As I live noble Lady, there is nothing
    I have found directly, cures the melancholy,
    But want and wedlock; when I had store of money,
    I simper'd sometime, and spoke wondrous wise,
    But never laught out-right; now I am empty,
    My heart sounds like a Bell, and strikes at both sides.

    _Lam._ You are finely temper'd, _Montague_.

    _Mont._ Pardon Lady, if any way my free mirth have offended,
    'Twas meant to please you: if it prove too saucy,
    Give it a frown, and I am ever silenc'd.

    _Lam._ I like it passing well; pray follow it:
    This is my day of choice, and shall be yours too,
    'Twere pity to delay ye: call to the Steward,
    And tell him 'tis my pleasure he should give you
    Five hundred Crowns: make your self handsome _Montague_,
    Let none wear better cloaths, 'tis for my credit;
    But pray be merry still.

    _Mont._ If I be not, and make a fool of twice as many hundreds,
    Clap me in Canvas, Lady.                                  [_Exeunt._

              _Enter_ La-poop, Laverdine, _and_ Malycorne.

    _Lav._ I am strangely glad, I have found the mystery
    Of this disguised boy out: I ever trusted
    It was a woman; and how happily
    I have found it so; and for my self, I am sure,
    One that would offer me a thousand pound now
    (And that's a pretty sum to make one stagger)
    In ready Gold for this concealment, could not
    Buy my hope of her, she's a dainty wench,
    And such a one I find I want extreamly,
    To bring me into credit: beauty does it.

    _Mal._ Say we should all meach here, and stay the Feast, now, what
    can the worst be? we have plaid the knaves, that's without question.

    _La-p._ True, and as I take it, this is the first truth
    We told these ten years, and for any thing
    I know, may be the last: but grant we are knaves,
    Both base and beastly knaves--

    _Mal._ Say so then.

    _Lav._ Well.

    _La-p._ And likewise let it be considered, we have wrong'd,
    And most maliciously, this Gentlewoman
    We cast to stay with, what must we expect now?

    _Mal._ I, there's the point, we would expect good eating.

    _La-p._ I know we would, but we may find good beating.

    _Lav._ You say true Gentlemen, and by----
    Though I love meat as well as any man,
    I care not what he be, if a eat a Gods name;
    Such a crab-sauce to my meat will turn my pallate.

    _Mal._ There's all the hazard, for the frozen _Montague_
    Has now got spring again, and warmth in him,
    And without doubt, dares beat us terribly.
    For not to mint the matter, we are cowards,
    And have, and shall be beaten, when men please
    To call us into cudgeling.

    _La-p._ I feel we are very prone that way.

    _Lav._ The sons of _Adam_.

    _La-p._ Now, here then rests the state o'th' question;
    Whether we yield our bodies for a dinner
    To a sound dog-whip, for I promise ye,
    If men be given to correction,
    We can expect no less; or quietly
    Take a hard Egg or two, and ten mile hence
    Bait in a ditch, this we may do securely;
    For, to stay hereabout will be all one,
    If once our moral mischiefs come in memory.

    _Mal._ But pray ye hear me, is not this the day
    The Virgin Lady doth elect her Husband?

    _Lav._ The dinner is to that end.

    _Mal._ Very well then, say we all stay, and say we all scape this
    whipping, and be well entertained, and one of us carry the Lady.

    _La-p._ 'Tis a seemly saying, I must confess, but if we stay, how fitly
    We may apply it to our selves (i'th' end)
    Will ask a _Christian_ fear; I cannot see,
    If I say true, what special ornaments
    Of Art or Nature, (lay aside our lying
    Whoring and drinking, which are no great virtues)
    We are endued withal, to win this Lady.

    _Mal._ Yet Women go not by the best parts ever; that I have found
    directly.

    _Lav._ Why should we fear then? they choose men
    As they feed; sometimes they settle
    Upon a White broth'd face, a sweet smooth gallant,
    And him they make an end of in a night;
    Sometimes a Goose, sometimes a grosser meat,
    A rump of Beef will serve 'em at some season,
    And fill their bellies too, though without doubt
    They are great devourers: Stock-fish is a dish,
    If it be well drest, for the tuffness sake
    Will make the proud'st of 'em long and leap for't.
    They'll run mad for a Pudding, e'r they'll starve.

    _La-p._ For my own part I care not, come what can come,
    If I be whipt, why so be it; if cudgell'd,
    I hope I shall out-live it, I am sure
    'Tis not the hundredth time I have been serv'd so,
    And yet I thank [God] I am here.

    _Mal._ Here's resolution.

    _La-p._ A little patience, and a rotten Apple
    Cures twenty worse diseases; what say you, Sir?

    _Lav._ Marry I say Sir, if I had been acquainted
    With lamming in my youth, as you have been
    With whipping, and such benefits of nature,
    I should do better: as I am, I'll venture,
    And if it be my luck to have the Lady,
    I'll use my fortune modestly; if beaten,
    You shall not hear a word, one I am sure of,
    And if the worst fall, she shall be my Physick.
    Lets go then, and a merry wind be with us.

    _Mal._ Captain, your shooes are old, pray put 'em off,
    And let one fling 'em after us; be bold, Sirs,
    And howsoever our fortune falls, lets bear
    An equal burden; if there be an odd lash,
    We'll part it afterwards.

    _La-p_. I am arm'd at all points.                         [_Exeunt._

                   _Enter four serving in a Banquet._

    _1._ Then my Lady will have a bedfellow to night.

    _2._ So she says; Heaven! what a dainty arm-full shall he enjoy,
    that has the launching of her, what a fight she'll make.

    _3._ I marry boys, there will be sport indeed, there will be
    grapling, she has a murderer lies in her prow, I am afraid will
    fright his main Mast, _Robin_.

    _4._ Who dost thou think shall have her of thy conscience, thou art
    a wise man?

    _3._ If she go the old way, the way of lot, the longest cut sweeps
    all without question.

    _1._ She has lost a friend of me else; what think ye of the
    Courtier?

    _2._ Hang him Hedge-hog: h'as nothing in him but a piece of
    _Euphues_, and twenty dozen of twelvepenny ribond, all about him,
    he is but one _Pedlers_ shop of Gloves and Garters, pick-teeth and
    pomander.

    _3._ The Courtier, marry God bless her _Steven_, she is not mad
    yet, she knows that trindle-tail too well, he's crestfall'n, and
    pin-buttock't, with leaping Landresses.

    _4._ The Merchant, sure she will not be so base to have him.

    _1._ I hope so _Robin_, he'll sell us all to the Moors to make
    Mummy; nor the Captain.

    _4._ Who _Potgun_? that's a sweet youth indeed, will he stay, think
    ye?

    _3._ Yes, without question, and have halfe din'd too, e'r the Grace
    be done; he's good for nothing in the world but eating, lying and
    sleeping; what other men devour in drink, he takes in potage, they
    say h'as been at Sea, a Herring-fishing, for without doubt he dares
    not hale an Eel-boat i'th' way of War.

    _2._ I think so, they would beat him off with Butter.

    _3._ When he brings in a prize, unless it be Cockles, or _Callis_
    sand to scour with, I'll renounce my Five Mark a year, and all
    the hidden Art I have in carving, to teach young Birds to whistle
    _Walsingham_; leave him to the Lime-Boats; now, what think you of
    the brave _Amiens_?

    _1._ That's a thought indeed.

    _2._ I marry, there's a person fit to feed upon a dish so dainty,
    and he'll do't I warrant him i'th' nick boys, has a body world
    without end.

    _4._ And such a one my Lady will make no little of; but is not
    _Montague_ married to day?

    _3._ Yes faith, honest _Montague_ must have his bout too.

    _2._ He's as good a lad as ever turn'd a trencher; must we leave
    him?

    _3._ He's too good for us, _Steven_, I'll give him health to his
    good luck to night i'th' old Beaker, and it shall be Sack too.

    _4._ I must have a Garter; and boys I have bespoke a Posset, some
    body shall give me thanks fort, 'tas a few toys in't will rase
    commotions in a bed, lad.

    _1._ Away; my Lady.                                       [_Exeunt._

    _Enter_ Orleance _and his Lady, arm in arm_, Amiens, Lamira,
        Charlotte, _like a Bride_, Montague _brave_, Laverdine,
        Longaville, Dubois, Mallycorn, La-poop.

    _Lam._ Seat your selves noble Lords and Gentlemen,
    You know your places; many royal welcomes
    I give your Grace; how lovely shews this change!
    My house is honor'd in this reconcilement.

    _Orl._ Thus Madam must you do, my Lady now shall see
    You made a Woman;
    And give you some short lessons for your voyage.
    Take her instructions Lady, she knows much.

    _Lam._ This becomes you, Sir.

    _L[a]._ My Lord must have his Will.

    _Orl._ 'Tis all I can do now, sweet-heart, fair Lady;
    This to your happy choice, brother _Amiens_,
    You are the man I mean it to.

    _Ami._ I'll pledge you.

    _Orl._ And with my heart.

    _Ami._ With all my love I take it.

    _Lam._ Noble Lords, I am proud ye have done this day, so much
    content, and me such estimation, that this hour (In this poor
    house) shall be a league for ever, For so I know ye mean it.

    _Ami._ I do Lady.

    _Orl._ And I my Lord.

    _Omnes._ Y'ave done a work of honor.

    _Ami._ Give me the Cup, where this health stops, let
    That man be either very sick, or very simple;
    Or I am very angry; Sir, to you;
    Madam, methinks this Gentleman might sit too;
    He would become the best on's.

    _Orl._ Pray sit down, Sir, I know the Lady of the Feast expects not
    this day so much old custom.

    _Ami._ Sit down _Montague_; nay, never blush for the matter.

    _Mont._ Noble Madam, I have t[w]o reasons [a]gainst it, and I dare
    not; duty to you first, as you are my Lady, and I your poorest
    servant; next the custom of this days ceremony.

    _Lam._ As you are my servant, I may command you then.

    _Mont._ To my life, Lady.

    _Lam._ Sit down, and here, I'll have it so.

    _Ami._ Sit down man, never refuse so fair a Ladies offer.

    _Mont._ It is your pleasure, Madam, not my pride,
    And I obey; I'll pledge ye now my Lord, Monsieur _Longaville_.

    _Long._ I thank you, Sir.

    _Mont._ This to my Lady, and her fair choice to day, and happiness.

    _Lon._ 'Tis a fair health, I'll pledge you though I sink for't.

    _Lam. Montague_ you are too modest; come, I'll add a little more
    wine t'yee, 'twill make you merry, this to the good I wish.----

    _Mont._ Honour'd Lady, I shall forget my self with this great
    bounty.

    _Lam._ You shall not Sir, give him some Vine.

    _Ami._ By Heaven you are a worthy woman, and that
    Man is blest can come near such a Lady.

    _Lami._ Such a blessing wet weather washes.

    _Mont._ At all, I will not go a lip less, my Lord.

    _Orl._ 'Tis well cast, Sir.

    _Mal._ If _Montague_ get more Wine, we are all like to hear on't.

    _Lav._ I do not like that sitting there.

    _Mal._ Nor I, methinks he looks lik[e] a Judge.

    _La-p._ Now have I a kind of grudging of a beating on me, I fear my
    hot fit:

    _Mal._ Drink apace, there's nothing allays a cudgel like it.

    _Lami. Montague_, now I'll put my choice to you; who do you hold
    in all this honor'd company a Husband fit to enjoy thy Lady? speak
    directly.

    _Mont._ Shall I speak, Madam?

    _Lami. Montague_ you shall.

    _Mont._ Then as I have a soul, I'll speak my conscience,
    Give me more Wine, in _vino veritas_,
    Here's to my self, and _Montague_ have a care.

    _Lami._ Speak to th' cause.

    _Mont._ Yes Madam, first I'll begin to thee.

    _Lav._ Have at us.

    _La-p._ Now for a Psalm of mercy.

    _Mont._ You good Monsieur, you that belye the noble name of
    Courtier, and think your claim good here, hold up your hand; your
    Worship is endited here, for a vain glorious fool.

    _Lav._ Good, oh Sir.

    _Mont._ For one whose wit
    Lies in a ten pound wastcoat; yet not warm;
    Ye have travell'd like a Fidler to make faces,
    And brought home nothing but a case of tooth-picks.
    You would be married, and no less than Ladies,
    And of the best sort can serve you; thou Silk-worm,
    What hast thou in thee to deserve this woman?
    Name but the poorest piece of man, good manners,
    There's nothing sound about thee, faith, th'ast none,
    It lies pawn'd at thy Silk-man's, for so much Lace;
    Thy credit with his wife cannot redeem it,
    Thy cloaths are all the soul thou hast, for so
    Thou sav'st them handsome for the next great tilting,
    Let who will take the t'other, thou wert never christen'd
    (Upon my conscience) but in Barbers water;
    Thou art never out o'th' Bason, thou art rotten,
    And if thou dar'st tell truth, thou wilt confess it;
     ---- Thy skin
    Looks of a Chesnut colour, greaz'd with Amber,
      All women that on earth do dwell, thou lov'st,
    Yet none that understand love thee again,
    But those that love the Spittle; get thee home
    Poor painted Butter-flie, th[y] Summers past;
    Go sweat, and eat dry Mutton, thou may'st live
    To do so well yet; a bruis'd Chamber-Maid
    May fall upon thee, and advance thy follies.
    You have your sentence; now it follows Captain,
    I treat of you.

    _La-p._ Pray [God] I may deserve it.

    _Orl._ Beshrew my heart, he speaks plain.

    _Ami._ That's plain dealing.

    _Mont._ You are a rascal Captain.

    _La-p._ A fine Calling.

    _Mont._ A Water-coward.

    _Ami._ He would make a pretty stuff.

    _Mont._ May I speak freely, Madam?

    _Lami._ Here's none ties you.

    _Mont._ Why shouldst thou dare come hither with a thought
    To find a wife here fit for thee? are all
    Thy single money whores that fed on Carrots,
    And fill'd the high Grass with familiars
    Fall'n off to Footmen; prethee tell me truly,
    For now I know thou dar'st not lie, couldst thou not
    Wish thy self beaten well with all thy heart now,
    And out of pain? say that I broke a rib,
    Or cut thy nose off, wer't not merciful for this ambition?

    _La-p._ Do your pleasure, Sir, beggars must not be choosers.

    _Orl._ He longs for beating.

    _Mont._ But that I have nobler thoughts possess my soul,
    Than such brown Bisket, such a piece of Dog-fish,
    Such a most maungy Mackril eater as thou art,
    That dares do nothing that belongs to th' Sea,
    But spue, and catch Rats, and fear men of War,
    Though thou hast nothing in the world to loose
    Aboord thee, but one piece of Beef, one Musket
    Without a cock for peace sake, and a Pitch-barrel,
    I'll tell thee, if my time were not more pretious
    Than thus to loose it, I would rattle thee,
    It may be beat thee, and thy pure fellow,
    The Merchant there of Catskins, till my words,
    Or blows, or both, made ye two branded wretches
    To all the world hereafter; you would fain to
    Venture your Bils of lading for this Lady;
    What would you give now for her? some five frayl
    Of rotten Figs, good Godson, would you not, Sir?
    Or a Parrot that speaks _High Dutch_? can all thou ever saw'st
    Of thine own fraughts from Sea, or cosenage
    (At which thou art as expert as the Devil)
    Nay, sell thy soul for wealth to, as thou wilt do,
    Forfeit thy friends, and raise a mint of Money,
    Make thee dream all these double, could procure
    A kiss from this good Lady? canst thou hope
    She would lye with such a nook of Hell as thou art,
    And hatch young Merchant-furies? oh ye dog-bolts!
    That fear no [God] but _Dunkirk_, I shall see you
    Serve in a lowsy Lime-boat, e'r I dye,
    For mouldy Cheese and Butter, _Billingsgate_
    Would not endure, or bring in rotten Pippins
    To cure blew eyes, and swear they came from _China_.

    _Lami._ Vex 'em no more, alas they shake:

    _Mont._ Down quickly on your marrow-bones, and thank this Lady.
    I would not leave you thus else, there are blankets,
    And such delights for such knaves; but fear still;
    'Twill be revenge enough to keep you waking.
    Ye have no mind of marriage, ha' ye?

    _La-p._ Surely no great mind now.

    _Mont._ Nor you.

    _Mal._ Nor I, I take it.

    _Mont._ Two eager suitors.

    _L[a]v._ Troth 'tis wondrous hot, [God] bless us from him.

    _Lami._ You have told me _Montag[u]e_
    Who are not fit to have me, let me know
    The man you would point out for me.

    _Mont._ There he sits; my Lord of _Amiens_, Madam, is my choice,
    he's noble every way, and worthy a wife with all the dowries of--

    _Ami._ Do you speak Sir, out of your friendship to me?

    _Mont._ Yes my Lord, and out of truth, for I could never flatter.

    _Ami._ I would not say how much I owe you for it,
    For that were but a promise, but I'll thank ye,
    As now I find you, in despite of fortune,
    A fair and noble Gentleman.

    _Lami._ My Lords, I must confess the choice this man hath made
    Is every way a great one, if not too great,
    And no way to be slighted: yet because
    We love to have our own eyes sometimes n[o]w,
    Give me a little liberty to see,
    How I could fit my self, if I were put to't.

    _Ami._ Madam we must.

    _Lami._ Are ye all agreed?

    _Omnes._ We be.

    _Lami._ Then as I am a Maid, I shall choose here.
    _Montague_ I must have thee.

    _Mont._ Why Madam, I have learnt to suffer more
    Than you can (out of pity) mock me with this way especially.

    _Lami._ Thou think'st I jest now;
    But by the love I bear thee, I will have thee.

    _Mont._ If you could be so weak to love a fall'n man,
    He must deserve more than I ever can,
    Or ever shall (dear Lady;) look but this way
    Upon that Lord, and you will tell me then
    Your eyes are no true choosers of good men.

    _Ami._ Do you love him truly?

    _Lam._ Yes my Lord, I will obey him truly, for I'll marry him, and
    justly think he that has so well serv'd me with his obedience,
    being born to greatness, must use me nobly of necessity, when I
    shall serve him.

    _Ami._ 'Twere a deep sin to cross ye, noble _Montague_,
    I wish ye all content, and am as happy
    In my friends good as it were meerly mine.

    _Mont._ Your Lordship does ill to give up your right;
    I am not capable of this great goodness,
    There sits my wife that holds my troth.

    _Cha._ I'll end all, I wooed you for my Lady, and now give up my
    Title, alas poor wench, my aims are lower far.

    _Mont._ How's this sweet-heart?

    _Lami._ Sweet-heart 'tis so, the drift was mine to hide
    My purpose till it struck home.

    _Omnes._ [God g]ive you joy.

    _Lami._ Prethee leave wondring, by this kiss I'll have thee.

    _Mont._ Then by this kiss, and this, I'll ever serve ye.

    _Long._ This Gentleman and I Sir, must needs hope once more to
    follow ye.

    _Mont._ As friends and fellows, never as servants more.

    _Long. Dub._ You make us happy.

    _Orl._ Friend _Montague_, ye have taught me so much honor, I have
    found a fault in my self, but thus I'll purge my conscience of
    it, the late Land I took by false play, from you, with as much
    contrition, and entireness of affection to this most happy day
    again, I render; be master of your own, forget my malice, and make
    me worthy of your love, L. _Montague_.

    _Mont._ You have won me and honor to your name.

    _Mal._ Since your Lordship has begun good deeds, we'll follow; good
    Sir forgive us, we are now those men fear you for goodness sake;
    those sums of money unjustly we detain from you, on your pardon
    shall be restor'd again, and we your servants.

    _La-p._ You are very forward Sir, it seems you have money, I pray
    you lay out, I'll pay you, or pray for you, as the Sea works.

    _Lav._ Their pennance Sir, I'll undertake, so please ye
    To grant me one concealment.

    _Long._ A right Courtier, still a begging.

    _Mont._ What is it Sir?

    _Lav._ A Gentlewoman.

    _Mont._ In my gift?

    _Lav._ Yes Sir, in yours.

    _Mont._ Why, bring her forth, and take her.

    _Lami._ What wench would he have?

    _Mont._ Any wench I think.

            _Enter_ Laverdine _and_ Veramour _like a woman_.

    _Lav._ This is the Gentlewoman.

    _Mont._ 'Tis my Page, Sir.

    _Ver._ No Sir, I am a poor disguis'd Lady,
    That like a Page have followed you full long for love god-wot.

    _Omnes._ A Lady--_Laverdine_--yes, yes, 'tis a Lady.

    _Mont._ It may be so, and yet we have lain together,
    But by my troth I never found her, Lady.

    _L. Orl._ Why wore you boys cloaths?

    _Ver._ I'll tell you, Madam,
    I took example by two or three Plays, that methought
    Concerned me.

    _Mont._ Why made you not me acquainted with it?

    _Ver._ Indeed Sir, I knew it not my self,
    Until this Gentleman open'd my dull eyes,
    And by perswasion made me see it.

    _Ami._ Could his power in words make such a change?

    _Ver._ Yes, as truly woman as your self, my Lord.

    _Lav._ Why, but hark you, are not you a woman?

    _Ver._ If hands and face make it not evident, you shall see more.

    _Mai._ Breeches, breeches, _Laverdine_.

    _La-p._ 'Tis not enough, women may wear those cases.
    Search further Courtier.

    _Omnes._ Ha, ha, ha.

    _La-p._ Oh thou fresh-water Gudgeon, wouldst thou come
    To point of Marriage with an _Ignoramus_?
    Thou shouldst have had her Urin to the Doctors,
    The foolishest Physitian could have made plain
    The liquid _Epicæne_; a blind man by the hand
    Could have discovered the ring from the stone.
    Boy, come, to Sea with me, I'll teach thee to climb,
    And come down by the Rope, nay to eat Rats.

    _Ver._ I shall devour my Master before the prison then,
    Sir, I have began my Trade.

    _Mal._ Trade? to the City, child, a flat-cap will become thee.

    _Mont._ Gentlemen, I beseech you molest your selves no further,
    For his preferment it is determin'd.

    _Lav._ I am much ashamed, and if my cheek
    Gives not satisfaction, break my head.

    _Mont._ Your shame's enough, Sir.

    _Ami. Montague_, much joy attend thy marriage-bed;
    By thy example of true goodness, envy is exil'd,
    And to all honest men that truth intend,
    I wish good luck, fair fate be still thy friend.          [_Exeunt._




Upon an Honest Man's Fortune.

By Mr. _JOHN FLETCHER_.


    _You that can look through Heaven, and tell the Stars,_
    _Observe their kind conjunctions, and their wars;_
    _Find out new Lights, and give them where you please,_
    _To those men honors, pleasures, to those ease;_
    _You that are God's Surveyers, and can show_
    _How far, and when, and why the wind doth blow;_
    _Know all the charges of the dreadful thunder,_
    _And when it will shoot over, or fall under:_
    _Tell me, by all your Art I conjure ye,_
    _Yes, and by truth, what shall become of me?_
    _Find out my Star, if each one, as you say,_
    _Have his peculiar Angel, and his way;_
    _Observe my fate, next fall into your dreams,_
    _Sweep clean your houses, and new line your Sceames,_
    _Then say your worst: or have I none at all?_
    _Or is it burnt out lately? or did fall?_
    _Or am I poor? not able, no full flame?_
    _My Star, like me, unworthy of a name?_
    _Is it your Art can only work on those,_
    _That deal with dangers, dignities, and cloaths?_
    _With Love, or new Opinions? you all lye,_
    _A Fish-wife hath a fate, and so have I,_
    _But far above your finding; he that gives,_
    _Out of his providence, to all that lives,_
    _And no man knows his treasure, no, not you:_
    _He that made_ Egypt _blind, from whence you grew_
    _Scabby and lowzie, that the world might see_
    _Your Calculations are as blind as ye:_
    _He that made all the Stars, you daily read,_
    _And from thence filtch a knowledge how to feed;_
    _Hath hid this from you, your conjectures all_
    _Are drunken things, not how, but when they fall:_
    _Man is his own Star, and the soul that can_
    _Render an honest, and a perfect man,_
    _Commands all light, all influence, all fate,_
    _Nothing to him falls early, or too late._
    _Our Acts our Angels are, or good or ill,_
    _Our fatal shadows that walk by us still,_
    _And when the Stars are labouring, we believe_
    _It is not that they govern, but they grieve_
    _For stuborn ignorance; all things that are_
    _Made for our general uses, are at war,_
    _Even we among our selves, and from the strife,_
    _Tour first unlike opinions got a life._
    _Oh man! thou Image of thy Makers good,_
    _What canst thou fear, when breathed into thy bloud,_
    _His spirit is, that built thee? what dull sence_
    _Makes thee suspect, in need, that Providence?_
    _Who made the morning, and who plac'd the light_
    _Guide to thy labours? who call'd up the night,_
    _And bid her fall upon thee like sweet showers_
    _In hollow murmurs, to lock up thy powers?_
    _Who gave thee knowledge, who so trusted thee,_
    _To let thee grow so near himself, the Tree?_
    _Must he then be distrusted? shall his frame_
    _Discourse with him, why thus, and thus I am?_
    _He made the Angels thine, thy fellows all,_
    _Nay, even thy servants, when Devotions call._
    _Oh! canst thou be so stupid then, so dim,_
    _To seek a saving influence, and loose him?_
    _Can Stars protect thee? or can poverty,_
    _Which is the light to Heaven, put out his eye?_
    _He is my Star, in him all truth I find,_
    _All influence, all fate, and when my mind_
    _Is furnish'd with his fullness, my poor story_
    _Shall out-live all their age, and all their glory,_
    _The hand of danger cannot fall amiss,_
    _When I know what, and in whose power it is._
    _[N]or want, the cause of man, shall make me groan,_
    _A Holy Hermit is a mind alone._
    _Doth not experience teach us all we can,_
    _To work our selves into a glorious man?_
    _Love's but an exhalation to best eyes_
    _The matter spent, and then the fools fire dies?_
    _Were I in love, and could that bright Star bring_
    _Increase to Wealth, Honor, and every thing:_
    _Were she as perfect good, as we can aim,_
    _The first was so, and yet she lost the Game._
    _My Mistriss then be knowledge and fair truth;_
    _So I enjoy all beauty and all youth,_
    _And though to time her Lights, and Laws she lends,_
    _She knows no Age, that to corruption bends._
    _Friends promises may lead me to believe,_
    _But he that [is] his own friend, knows to live._
    _Affliction, when I know it is but this,_
    _A deep allay, whereby man tougher is_
    _To [b]ear the hammer, and the deeper still,_
    _We still arise more image of his Will._
    _Sickness, an humorous cloud 'twixt us and light_
    _And death, at longest but another night._
    _Man is his own Star, and that soul that can_
    _Be honest, is the only perfect man._


                                 FINIS.




THE

MASQUE of the Gentlemen

OF

_GRAYS-INNE_ and the _INNER-TEMPLE_;

    _Performed before the KING in the_ Banqueting-House _in_
        White-Hall, at the Marriage of the Illustrious _Frederick_ and
        _Elizabeth_, Prince and Princess Palatine of the _Rhine_.

                   Written by _FRANCIS BEAMONT_ Gent.

 _Enter_ Iris _running_, Mercury _following, and catching hold of her_.

    _Mercury._
    Stay Light-[f]oot _Iris_, for thou striv'st in vain,
    My wings are nimbler than thy feet.

    _Iris._ Away,
    Dissembling _Mercury_, my messages
    Ask honest haste, not like those wanton ones,
    Your thundering Father sends.

    _Mer._ Stay foolish Maid,
    Or I will take my rise upon a hill,
    When I perceive thee seated in a cloud,
    In all the painted glory that thou hast,
    And never cease to clap my willing wing[s],
    Till I catch hold o[f] thy discolour'd Bow,
    And shiver it beyond the angry power
    Of your [curst] Mistriss to make up again.

    _Iris. Hermes_ forbear, _Juno_ will chide and strike;
    Is great _Jove_ jealous that I am imploy'd
    On her Love-errands? she did never yet
    Claspe weak mortality in her white arms,
    As he has often done; I only come
    To celebrate the long wish'd Nuptials
    Here in _Olympia_, which are now perform'd
    Betwixt two goodly Rivers, [which] have mixt
    Their gentle [ris]ing waves, and are to grow
    Into a thousand streams, great as themselves.
    I need not name them, for the sound is loud
    In Heaven and Earth, and I am sent from her
    The Queen of marriage, that was present here,
    And smil'd to see them joyn, and hath not chid
    Since it was done. Good _Hermes_ let me goe.

    _Merc._ Nay, you must stay, _Jove's_ message is the same;
    Whose eyes are lightning, and whose voice is thunder,
    Whose breath is a[n]y wind, he will, who knows
    How to be first [o]n Earth, as well as Heaven.

    _Iris._ But what hath he to do with Nuptial rites?
    Let him [keepe state] upon his Starry throne,
    And fright poor mortals with his Thunder-bolts,
    Leaving to us the mutual darts of eyes.

    _Merc._ Alas, when ever offer'd he t'abridge
    Your Ladies power, but only now in these,
    Whose match concerns [his] general government?
    Hath not each God a part in these high joyes?
    And shall not he the King of gods presume
    Without proud _Juno's_ licence? let her know,
    That when enamour'd _Jove_ fir[st] gave her power
    To link soft hearts in undissolv[ed] b[o]nds,
    He then foresaw, and to himself reserv'd
    The honor of this marriage: thou shalt stand
    Still as a Rock, while I to bless this Feast
    Will summon up with mine all-charming rod
    The Nymphs of Fountains, from whose watry locks,
    (Hung with the dew of blessing and increase)
    The greedy Rivers take their nourishment.
    Y[ou] Nymphs, who bathing in your loved Springs,
    Beheld these Rivers in their infancy.
    And joy'd to see them, when their circled heads
    Refresh'd the Air, and spread the ground with Flowers;
    Rise from your Wells, and with your nimble feet
    Perform that office to this happy pair,
    Which in these Plains you to _Alpheus_ did,
    When passing hence, through many Seas unmixt,
    He gain'd the favour of his _Arethuse_.

    [_The Nymphs rise, and dance a little, and then make a stand._

    _Iris._ Is _Hermes_ grown a Lover? by what power
    Unknown to us, calls he the [Naiades]?

    _Merc._ Presumptuous _Iris_, I could make thee dance,
    Till thou forgetst thy Ladies messages,
    And rann'st back crying to her; thou shalt know
    My power is more, only my breath, and this
    Shall move fix'd Stars, and force the Firmament
    To yield the Hyades, who govern showers,
    And dewy clouds, in whose dispersed drops
    Thou form'st the shape of thy deceitful Bow.
    Y[ou] Maids, who yearly at appointed times
    Advance with kindly tears, the gentle floods
    Discend, and pour your blessing on these streams,
    Which rolling down from Heaven-aspiring hills,
    And now united in the fruitful vales,
    Bear all before them, ravish'd with their joy,
    And swell in glory, till they know no bounds.

    [_The Cloud discends with the Hyades, at which the Maids seem to
    be rejoyced; they all dance a while together, then make another
    stand, as if they wanted something._

    _Iris._ Great Wit and Power hath _Hermes_ to contrive
    A livel[esse] dance, which of one sex consists.

    _Merc._ Alas poor _Iris_! _Venus_ hath in store
    A secret ambush of her winged boys,
    Who lurking long within these pleasant groves,
    First stuck these Lovers with their equal darts;
    Those _Cupids_ shall come forth, and joyn with these,
    To honor that which they themselves began.

    [_The_ Cupids _come forth and dance, they are weary with their
    blind pursuing the Nymphs, and th[e] Nymphs weary with flying
    them_.

    _Iris._ Behold the Statues which wild Vulcan plac'd
    Under the Altar of Olympian _Jove_,
    And gave to them an artificial life:
    [Shall daunce for joy of these great Nuptialls:]
    See how they move, drawn by this Heavenly joy,
    Like the wild Trees, which followed _Orpheus_ Harp.

    [_The Statues come down, and they all dance, till the Nymphs
    out-run them, and lose them, then the_ Cupids _go off, and last the
    Statues_.

    _Merc._ And what will _Juno's Iris_ do for her?

    _Iris._ Just match this shew, or m[y] inventio[n] fail[es],
    Had it been worthier, I would have invok'd
    The blazing Comets, Clouds, and falling Stars,
    And all my kindred Meteors of the air,
    To have excell'd it; but I now must strive
    To imitate confusion; therefore thou
    Delightful _Flora_; if thou ever feltst
    Increase of sweetness in those blooming Plants,
    On which the horns of my fair Bow decline,
    Send hither all th[e] rural company,
    Which deck the May-games with their [Countrey] sports;
    _Juno_ will have it so.

    [_The second Anti-Masque [rush] in, [dance] their measure, and as
    rudely depart._

    _Merc. Iris_, we strive
    Like winds at liberty, who should do worst
    E'r we return. If _Juno_ be the Queen
    Of Marriages, let her give happy way
    To what is done in honor of the State
    She governs.

    _Iris. Hermes_, so it may be done
    Meerly in honor of the State, and th[e]se
    That now have prov'd it; not to satisfy
    The lust of _Jupiter_, in having thanks
    More than his _Juno_; if thy Snaky rod
    Have power to search the Heaven, or sound the Sea,
    Or call together all the ends of earth,
    To bring [in] any thing that may do grace
    To us, and these, do it, we shall be pleas'd.

    _Merc._ Then know that from the mouth of _Jove_ himself,
    Whose words have wings, and need not to be born,
    I took a message, and I b[a]re it through
    A thousand yielding clouds, and never staid
    Till his high Will was done: the _Olympian_ games,
    Which long ha[ve] slept, at these wish'd Nuptials,
    He pleas'd to have renew'd, and all his Knights
    Are gather'd hither, who within their Tents
    Rest on this hill, upon whose rising head

    [_The Altar is discovered with the Pri[e]sts about it, and the
    Statues under it, and the Knights lying in their Tents on each
    side, near the top of the hill._

    Behold _Jove's_ Altar, and his blessed Priests
    Moving about it; come you Holy men,
    And with your voices draw these youths along,
    That till _Jove's_ Musick call them to their games.
    Their active sports may give a blest content
    To those, for whom they are again begun.

    The first Song, when the Priests descend, and the Knights follow
        them.

        _Shake off your heavy trance,_
          _and leap into a dance,_
        _Such as no mortals use to tread,_
          _fit only for_ Apollo
        _To play to, for the Moon to lead,_
          _And all the Stars to follow_.

    The second Song at the end of the first Dance.

        _On blessed youths, for_ Jove _doth pause,_
        _Laying aside his graver Laws_
            _For this device:_
        _And at the wedding such a pair,_
        _Each dance is taken for a prayer,_
            _Each Song a Sacrifice._

    The third Song, after their many Dances, when they are to take out
        the Ladies.

                        Single.

        _More pleasing were these sweet delights,_
        _If Ladies mov'd as well as Knights_;
        _Run every one of you and catch_
        _A Nymph, in honor of his match;_
        _And whisper boldly in her ear,_
        Jove _will but laugh, if you forswear._

                            All.

        _And this days sins he doth resolve,_
        _That we his Priests should all absolve._

    The fourth Song, when they have parted with the Ladies, a shrill
        Musick sounds, supposed to be that which calls them to the
        Olympian games, at which they all make a seeming preparation to
        depart.

      _Y[e] should stay longer if we durst,_
      _Away, alas! that he that first_
      _Gave time wild wings to fly away,_
      _H[ath] now no power to make him stay._
      _[But] though these games must needs be plaid,_
      _I would th[is] pair, when they are laid,_
          _And not a creature nigh 'em,_
      _[Could] catch his sithe, as he doth pass,_
      _And [cut] his wings, and break his glass,_
          _And keep him ever by 'em._

    The fifth Song, when all is done, as they ascend

      _Peace and silence be the guide_
      _To the Man, and to the Bride:_
      _If there be a joy y[e]t new_
      _In marriage, let it fall on you,_
          _That all the world may wonder:_
      _If we should stay, we should do worse,_
      _And turn our blessings to a curse,_
          _By keeping you asunder._




Four PLAYS in One.


The Persons represented in the Play.

  Emanuel, _King of_ Portugal, & Castile.
  Isabella, _his Queen_.
  Lords.
  Frigoso, _a Courtier_.        }  _Spectators of the Play at the_
  Rinaldo, _his acquaintance_.  }  _celebration of their Nuptials._


The Triumph of Honor.

  Martius, _a Roman General_.
  Valerius, _his Brother_.
  Nicodemus, _a cowardly Corporal_.
  Cornelius, _a wittal Sutler_.
  Captain.
  Sophocles, _Duke of_ Athens.

                                  WOMEN.

  Diana.
  Dorigen, Sophocles _wife, the example of Chastity_.
  Florence, _Wife to_ Cornelius.


The Triumph of Love.

  Cupid.
  Rinaldo, _Duke of_ Milan.
  Benvoglio,  }  _Brothers, Lords of_
  Randulpho,  }  Milan
  Gerard,      }  _Sons of the Duke, supposed_
  Ferdinand,   }  _lost._

                                  WOMEN.

  Angelina, _Wife to_ Benvoglio.
  Violante, _her Daughter_, Gerard's _Mistriss_.
  Dorothea, Violante's _Attendant_.
  Cornelia, _the obscured Duchess_.


The Triumph of Death.

  Duke _of_ Anjou.
  Lavall, _his lustful Heir_.
  Gentille, _a Courtier, Father to_ Perolot.
  Perolot, _contracted to_ Gabriella.
  Two Gentlemen.
  A Spirit.
  Shalloone, _servant to_ Lavall.

                                  WOMEN.

  Gabriella, _the despised wife of_ Lavall.
  Hellena, _his second wife_.
  Casta, _Daughter to_ Gentille.
  Maria, _a servant attending on_ Gabriella.


The Triumph of Time.

  Jupiter.
  Mercurie.
  Plutus.
  Time.
  Atropos.
  Desire.
  Vain Delight.
  Bounty.
  Poverty.
  Honesty.
  Simplicity.
  Fame.




Four

PLAYS

OR

Moral Representations

IN ONE.


                          _Enter Don_ Frigozo.

    _Frig._   [_Noise within._ Away with those bald-pated Rascals there,
    their wits are bound up in Vellom, they are not currant here. Down
    with those City-Gentlemen, &c. Out with those ---- I say, and in
    with their wives at the back door. Worship and place, I am weary of
    ye, ye lye on my shoulders lik a load of Gold on an Asses back. A
    man in Authority, is but as a candle in the wind, sooner wasted or
    blown out, than under a bushel. How now, what's the matter?

    Who are you, Sir?

                            _Enter_ Rinaldo.

    _Rin._ Who am I, Sir? why, do y' not know me?

    _Frig._ No by my ---- do I not.

    _Rin._ I am sure we din'd together to day.

    _Frig._ That's all one: as I din'd with you in the City, and as you
    paid for my dinner there, I do know you, and am beholding to you:
    But as my mind is since transmigrated into my office, and as you
    come to Court to have me pay you again, and be beholding to me, I
    know you not, I know you not.

    _Rin._ Nay, but look ye, Sir.

    _Frig._ Pardon me: If you had been my bed-fellow these seven
    years, and lent me money to buy my place, I must not transgress
    principles: This very talking with you is an ill example.

    _Rin._ Pish, you are too punctual a Courtier, Sir: why, I am a
    Courtier too, yet never understood the place or name to be so
    infectious to humanity and manners, as to cast a man into a burning
    pride and arrogance, for which there is no cure. I am a Courtier,
    and yet I will know my friends, I tell you.

    _Frig._ And I tell you, you will thrive accordingly, I warrant you.

    _Rin._ But hark ye, Signior _Frigozo_, you shall first understand,
    I have no friends with me to trouble you.

    _Frig._ Humh: That's a good motive.

    _Rin._ No[r] to borrow money of you.

    _Frig._ That's an excellent motive.

    _Rin._ No my sweet Don, nor to ask what you owe me.

    _Frig._ Why, that is the very motive of motives, why I ought and
    will know thee: and if I had not wound thee up to this promise, I
    would not have known thee these fifteen years, no more than the
    errantst, or most founder'd _Castillian_ that followed our new
    Queens Carriages a-foot.

    _Rin._ Nor for any thing, dear Don, but that you would place me
    conveniently to see the Play to night.

    _Frig._ That shall I, Signior _Rinaldo_: but would you had come
    sooner: you see how full the Scaffolds are, there is scant room for
    a Lovers thought here. Gentlewomen sit close for shame: Has none of
    ye a little corner for this Gentleman? I'll place ye, fear not. And
    how did our brave King of _Portugal_, _Emanuel_, bear himself to
    day? You saw the solemnity of the marriage.

    _Rin._ Why, like a fit Husband for so gracious and excellent a
    Princess, as his worthy mate _Isabella_, the King of _Castiles_
    Daughter doth in her very external li[ne]aments, mixture of
    colours, and joyning Dove-like behaviour assure her self to be.
    And I protest (my dear Don) seriously, I can sing prophetically
    nothing but blessed Hymns, and happy occasions to this sacred union
    of _Portugal_ and _Castile_, which have so wisely and mutually
    conjoyned two such virtuous and beautiful Princes as these are; and
    in all opinion like to multiply to their very last minute.

    _Frig._ The King is entring: Signior, hover here about, and as soon
    as the Train is set, clap into me, we'll stand near the State. If
    you have any Creditors here, they shall renew bonds a Twelvemonth
    on such a sight: but to touch the pomel of the King's Chair in
    the sight of a Citizen, is better security for a thousand double
    Duckets, than three of the best Merchants in _Lisbon_. Besides,
    Signior, we will censure, not only the King in the Play here, that
    Reigns his two hours; but the King himself, that is to rule his
    life time: Take my counsel: I have one word to say to this noble
    Assembly, and I am for you.

    _Rin._ Your method shall govern me.

    Frig. _Prologues are bad Huishers before the wise;_
    _Why may not then an Huisher Prologize?_
    _Here's a fair sight, and were ye oftner seen_
    _Thus gather'd here, 'twould please our King and Queen_
    _Upon my conscience, ye are welcome all_
    _To_ Lisbon, _and the Court of_ Portugal;
    _Where your fair eyes shall feed on no worse sights_
    _Than preparations made for Kings delights._
    _We wish to men content, the manliest treasure,_
    _And to the Women, their own wish'd for pleasure._        [Flourish.

             _Enter King and Queen, Emanuel and Isabella,_
                        _Lords and attendants._

    _Em._ Fair fountain of my life, from whose pure streams
    The propagation of two Kingdoms flowes,
    Never contention rise in eithers brest,
    But contestation whose love shall be best.

    _Isab._ Majestick Ocean, that with plenty feeds
    Me, thy poor tributary Rivolet,
    Sun of my beauty, that with radiant beams
    Dost gild, and dance upon these humble streams,
    Curst be my birth-hour, and my ending day,
    When back your love-floods I forget to pay:
    Or if this brest of mine, your crystall brook,
    Ever take other form in, other look
    But yours, or ere produce unto your grace
    A strange reflection, or anothers face,
    But be your love-book clasp'd, open'd to none
    But you, nor hold a storie, but your own;
    A water fix'd, that ebbs nor floods pursue,
    Frozen to all, onely dissolv'd to you.

    _Em._ O, who shall tel the sweetness of our love
    To future times, and not be thought to lye?
    I look through this hour like a perspective,
    And far off see millions of prosperous seeds,
    That our reciprocall affection breeds.
    Thus my white rib, close in my brest with me,
    Which nought shall tear hence, but mortalitie.

    _Lords._ Be Kingdoms blest in you, you blest in them.

    _Frig._ Whist, Seignior; my strong imagination shews me
    Love (me thinks) bathing in milk, and wine in her cheeks:
    O! how she clips him, like a plant of Ivie.

    _Rin._ I; Could not you be content to be an Owl in such an
    ivie-bush, or one of the Oaks of the City to be so clipt?

    _Frig._ Equivocal Don, though I like the clipping well, I could not
    be content either to be your Owl, or your Ox of the City. The Play
    begins.                                                 [_Flourish._

                     _Enter a Poet with a garland._

    Poet Prologue. _Low at your sacred feet our poor Muse layes_
        _Her, and her thunder-fearless virdant Bayes._
        _Four severall_ Triumphs _to your Princely eyes,_
        _Of_ Honor, Love, Death, _and_ Time _do rise_
        _From our approaching subject, which we move_
        _Towards you with fear, since that a sweeter_ Love,
        _A brighter_ Honor, _purer_ Chastitie
        _March in your brests this day triumphantly,_
        _Then our weak Scenes can show: then how dare we_
        _Present like Apes and Zanies, things that be_
        _Exemplifi'd in you, but that we know,_
        _We ne'r crav'd grace, which you did not bestow_?

    _Enter in triumph with Drums, Trumpets, Colours_, Martius,
        Valerius, Sophocles _bound_, Nicodemus, Cornelius, _Captains
        and Soldiers_.

    _Mar._ What means proud _Sophocles_?

    _Soph._ To go even with _Martius_,
    And not to follow him like his Officer:
    I never waited yet on any man.

    _Mar._ Why poor _Athenian_ Duke, thou art my slave,
    My blows have conquerd thee.

    _Soph._ Thy slave? proud _Martius_,
    _Cato_ thy countrey-man (whose constancie,
    Of all the Romans, I did honor most)
    Rip'd himself twice to avoid slavery,
    Making himself his own Anatomie.
    But look thee _Martius_, not a vein runs here
    From head to foot, but _Sophocles_ would unseame, and
    Like a spring garden shoot his scornfull blood
    Into their eyes, durst come to tread on him:
    As for thy blows, they did [not] conquer me:
    Seven Battailes have I met thee face to face,
    And given thee blow for blow, and wound for wound,
    And till thou taught'st me, knew not to retire;
    Thy sword was then as bold, thy arm as strong;
    Thy blows then _Martius_, cannot conquer me.

    _Val._ What is it then?

    _Soph._ Fortune.

    _Val._ Why, yet in that
    Thou art the worse man, and must follow him.

    _Soph._ Young Sir, you erre: If Fortune could be call'd
    Or his, or your's, or mine, in good or evill
    For any certain space, thou hadst spoke truth:
    But she but jests with man, and in mischance
    Abhors all constancie, flowting him still
    With some small touch of good, or seeming good
    Midst of his mischief: which vicissitude
    Makes him strait doff his armour, and his fence
    He had prepar'd before, to break her strokes.
    So from the very Zenith of her wheel,
    When she has dandled some choice favorite,
    Given him his boons in women, honor, wealth,
    And all the various delecacies of earth;
    That the fool scorns the gods in his excess,
    She whirls, and leaves him at th' _Antipodes_.

    _Mar._ Art sure we have taken him? Is this _Sophocles_?
    His fettred arms say no; his free soul, I.
    This _Athens_ nurseth Arts, as well as Arms.

    _Soph._ Nor glory _Martius_, in this day of thine,
    'Tis behind yesterday, but before to morrow:
    Who knows what Fortune then will do with thee?
    She never yet could make the better man,
    The better chance she has: the man that's best
    She still contends with, and doth favor least.

    _Mar._ Me thinks a graver thunder then the skies
    Breaks from his lips; I am amaz'd to hear,
    And _Athens_ words, more then her swords doth fear.

    _Soph. Martius_, slave _Sophocles_, couldst thou acquire
    (And did thy Roman gods so love thy prayers,
    And solemn sacrifice, to grant thy suit)
    To gather all the valour of the _Cæsars_
    Thy Predecessors, and what is to come,
    And by their influence fling it on thee now,
    Thou couldst not make my mind go less, not pare
    With all their swords one virtue from my soul:
    How am I vassall'd then? Make such thy slaves,
    As dare not keep their goodness past their graves.
    Know General, we two are chances on
    The die of Fate; now thrown, thy six is up,
    And my poor one beneath thee, next th[y] throw
    May set me upmost, and cast thee below.

    _Mar._ Yet will I trie thee more: Calamitie
    Is mans true touchstone: Listen insolent Prince,
    That dar'st contemn the Master of thy life,
    Which I will force here 'fore thy City walls
    With barbarous crueltie, and call thy wife
    To see it, and then after send her--

    _Soph._ Ha, ha, ha.

    _Mar._ And then demolish _Athens_ to the ground,
    Depopulate her, fright away her fame,
    And leave succession neither stone nor name.

    _Soph._ Ha, ha, ha.

    _Mar._ Dost thou deride me?

    _Val._ Kneel, ask _Martius_
    For mercy, _Sophocles_, and live happy still.

    _Soph._ Kneel, and ask mercie? (_Roman_) art a god?
    I never kneel'd, or begg'd of any else.
    Thou art a fool, and I will loose no more
    Instructions on thee: now I find thy eares         [_Solemn Musick._

                _Enter Dorigen, Ladyes bearing a sword._

    Are foolish, like thy tongue. My _Dorigen_?
    Oh! must she see me bound?

    _1 Cap._ There's the first sigh
    He breath'd since he was born, I think.

    _2 Cap._ Forbear,
    All but the Lady his wife.

    _Soph._ How my heart chides
    The manacles of my hands, that let them not
    Embrace my _Dorigen_.

    _Val._ Turn but thy face.
    And ask thy life of _Martius_ thus, and thou
    (With thy fair wife) shalt live; _Athens_ shall stand,
    And all her priviledges augmented be.

    _Soph._ 'Twere better _Athens_ perish'd, and my wife
    Which (Romans) I do know a worthie one,
    Then _Sophocles_ should shrink of _Sophocles_,
    Commit profane Idolatry, by giving
    The reverence due to gods to thee blown man.

    _Mar._ Rough, stubborn Cynick.

    _Soph._ Thou art rougher far,
    And of a couser wale, fuller of pride,
    Less temperate to bear prosperity.
    Thou seest my meer neglect hath rais'd in thee
    A storm more boystrous then the Oceans,
    My virtue, Patience, makes thee vitious.

    _Mar._ Why, fair-ey'd Lady, do you kneel?

    _Dor._ Great Generall,
    Victorious, godlike _Martius_, your poor handmaid
    Kneels, for her husband will not, cannot: speaks
    Thus humbly, that he may not. Listen _Roman_,
    Thou whose advanced front doth speak thee _Roman_
    To every Nation, and whose deeds assure 't;
    Behold a Princess (whose declining head
    Like to a drooping lilly after storms
    Bowes to thy feet) and playing here the slave,
    To keep her husbands greatness unabated:
    All which doth make thy Conquest greater: For,
    If he be base in ought whom thou hast taken,
    Then _Martius_ hath but taken a base prize.
    But if this Jewell hold lustre and value,
    _Martius_ is richer then in that he hath won.
    O make him such a Captive, as thy self
    Unto another wouldst, great Captain, be;
    Till then, he is no prisoner fit for thee.

    _Mar. Valerius_, here is harmonie would have brought
    Old crabbed _Saturn_ to sweet sleep, when _Jove_
    Did first incense him with Rebellion:
    _Athens_ doth make women Philosophers,
    And sure their children chat the talk of gods.

    _Val._ Rise beauteous _Dorigen_.

    _Dor._ Not untill I know
    The Generals resolution.

    _Val._ One soft word
    From _Sophocles_ would calm him into tears,
    Like gentle showres after tempestuous winds.

    _Dor._ To buy the world, he will not give a word,
    A look, a tear, a knee, 'gainst his own judgement,
    And the divine composure of his minde:
    All which I therefore doe, and here present
    This Victors wreathe, this rich _Athenian_ sword,
    Trophies of Conqu[e]st, which, great _Martius_, wear,
    And be appeas'd: Let _Sophocles_ still live.

    _Mar._ He would not live.

    _Dor._ He would not beg to live.
    When he shall so forget, then I begin
    To command, _Martius_; and when he kneels,
    _Dorigen_ stands; when he lets fall a tear,
    I dry mine eyes, and scorn him.

    _Mar._ Scorn him now then,
    Here in the face of _Athens_, and thy friends.
    Self-will'd, stiff _Sophocles_, prepare to die,
    And by that sword thy Lady honor'd me,
    With which her self shall follow. Romans, Friends,
    Who dares but strike this stroke, shall part with me
    Half _Athens_, and my half of Victorie.

    _Cap._ By ---- not we.

    _Nic. Cor._ We two will do it, Sir.

    _Soph._ Away, ye fish-fac'd Rascals.

    _Val. Martius_,
    To Eclipse this great Eclipse labours thy fame;
    _Valerius_ thy Brother shall for once
    Turn Executioner: Give me the sword.
    Now _Sophocles_, I'll strike as suddenly
    As thou dar'st die.

    _Soph._ Thou canst not. And _Valerius_,
    'Tis less dishonour to thee thus to kill me,
    Then bid me kneel to _Martius_: 'tis to murther
    The fame of living men, which great ones do;
    Their studies strangle, poyson makes away,
    The wretched hangman only ends the Play.

    _Val._ Art thou prepar'd?

    _Soph._ Yes.

    _Val._ Bid thy wife farewell.

    _Soph._ No, I will take no leave: My _Dorigen_,
    Yonder above, 'bout _Ariadnes_ Crown
    My spirit shall hover for thee; prethee haste.

    _Dor._ Stay _Sophocles_, with this tie up my sight,
    Let not soft nature so transform[e]d be
    (And lose her gentle[r] sex'd humanitie)
    To make me see my Lord bleed. So, 'tis well:
    Never one object underneath the Sun
    Will I behold before my _Sophocles_.
    Farewell: now teach the Romans how to die.

    _Mar._ Dost know what 'tis to die?

    _Soph._ Thou dost not, _Martius_,
    And therefore not what 'tis to live; to die
    Is to begin to live: It is to end
    An old stale weary work, and to commence
    A newer and a better. 'Tis to leave
    Deceitfull knaves for the societie
    Of gods and goodness. Thou thy self must part
    At last from all thy garlands, pleasures, Triumphs,
    And prove thy fortitude, what then 'twill do.

    _Val._ But ar't not griev'd nor vex'd to leave life thus?

    _Soph._ Why should I grieve, or vex for being sent
    To them I ever lov'd best? now I'll kneel,
    But with my back toward thee; 'tis the last duty
    This trunk can doe the gods.

    _Mar._ Strike, strike, _Valerius_,
    Or _Martius_ heart will leap out at his mouth.
    This is a man, a woman! Kiss thy Lord,
    And live with all the freedome you were wont.
    O Love! thou doubly hast afflicted me,
    With virtue, and with beauty. Treacherous heart,
    My hand shall cast thee quick into my urne,
    E're thou transgress this knot of pietie.

    _Val._ What ails my Brother?

    _Soph. Martius_, oh _Martius_!
    Thou now hast found a way to conquer me.

    _Dor._ O star of _Rome_, what gratitude can speak
    Fit words to follow such a deed as this?

    _Mar._ Doth _Juno_ talk, or _Dorigen_?

    _Val._ You are observ'd.

    _Mar._ This admirable Duke (_Valerius_)
    With his disdain of Fortune, and of Death,
    Captiv'd himself, hath captivated me:
    And though my arm hath ta'ne his body here,
    His soul hath subjugated _Martius_ soul:
    By _Romulus_, he is all soul, I think;
    He hath no flesh, and spirit cannot b[e] gyv'd;
    Then we have vanquish'd nothing; he is free,
    And _Martius_ walks now in captivitie.

    _Soph._ How fares the noble Roman?

    _Mar._ Why?

    _Dor._ Your blood
    Is sunk down to your heart, and your bright eyes
    Have lost their splendor.

    _Mar._ Baser fires go out,
    When the Sun shines on 'em: I am not well,
    An Apoplectick fit I use to have
    After my heats in war carelesly coold.

    _Soph. Martius_ shall rest in _Athens_ with his friends,
    Till this distemper leave him: O! great Roman,
    See _Sophocles_ doe that for thee, he could not
    Do for himself, weep. _Martius_, by the----
    It grieves me that so brave a soul should suffer
    Under the bodies weak infirmitie.
    Sweet Lady, take him to thy loving charge,
    And let thy care be tender.

    _Dor._ Kingly Sir,
    I am your Nurse and servant.

    _Mar._ O deer Lady,
    My Mistris, nay my Deity; guide me heaven,
    Ten wreathes triumphant _Martius_ will give,
    To change a _Martius_ for a _Sophocles_:
    Can't not be done (_Valerius_) with this boot?
    Inseparable affection, ever thus
    Colleague with _Athens Rome_.

    _Dor._ Beat warlike tunes,
    Whilest _Dorigen_ thus honors _Martius_ brow
    With one victorious wreath more.

    _Soph._ And _Sophocles_
    Thus girds his Sword of conquest to his thigh,
    Which ne'r be drawn, but cut out Victorie.

    _Lords._ For ever be it thus.                             [_Exeunt._

    _Corn._ Corporall _Nichodemus_, a word with you.

    _Nic._ My worthie Sutler _Cornelius_, it befits not _Nichodemus_
    the Roman Officer to parley with a fellow of thy rank: the affairs
    of the Empire are to be occupied.

    _Corn._ Let the affaires of the Empire lie a while unoccupied,
    sweet _Nichodemus_; I doe require the money at thy hands, which
    thou doest owe me; and if faire means cannot attain, force of Armes
    shall accomplish.

    _Nic._ Put up and live.

    _Corn._ I have put up too much already, thou Corporall of
    Concupiscence, for I suspect thou hast dishonored my flock-bed,
    and with thy foolish Eloquence, and that bewitching face of thine
    drawn my Wife, the young harlotrie baggage to prostitute herself
    unto thee. Draw therefore, for thou shalt find thyself a mortall
    Corporall.

    _Nichod._ Stay thy dead-doing hand, and heare: I will rather
    descend from my honor, and argue these contumelies with thee, then
    clutch thee (poor flye) in these eaglet ---- of mine: or draw my
    sword of Fate on a Pesant, a _Besognio_, a _Cocoloch_, as thou art.
    Thou shalt first understand this foolish eloquence, and intolerable
    beauty of mine (both which, I protest, are meerly naturall) are the
    gifts of the gods, with which I have neither sent baudy Sonnet,
    nor amorous glance, or (as the vulgar call it) sheeps eye to thy
    betrothed _Florence_.

    _Cor._ Thou lyest.

    _Nich._ O gods of _Rome_, was _Nichodemus_ born
    To hear these braveries from a poor provant?
    Yet when dogs bark, or when the asses bray,
    The lion laughs, not roars, but goes his way.

    _Cornel._ A ---- o' your poeticall veine: This versifying my wife
    has hornified me. Sweet Corporall codshead, no more standing on
    your punctilio's and punketto's of honor, they are not worth a
    lowse: the truth is, thou art the Generals Bygamie, that is, his
    fool, and his knave; thou art miscreant and recreant, not an
    horse-boy in the Legions, but has beaten thee; thy beginning was
    knap-sack, and thy ending will be halter-sack.

    _Nich._ Me thinks I am now _Sophocles_, the wise, and thou art
    _Martius_, the mad.

    _Cornel._ No more of your tricks good Corporall Letherchops: I
    say, thou hast dishonour'd me, and since honor now adaies is only
    repaired by money, pay me, and I am satisfied: Even reckoning keeps
    long friends.

    _Nic._ Let us continue friends then, for I have been even with thee
    a long time; and though I have not paid thee, I have paid thy wife.

    _Corn._ Flow forth my tears, thou hast deflowred her _Tarquin_,
    the Garden of my delight, hedg'd about, in which there was but one
    bowling Alley for mine owne private procreation, thou hast, like a
    thief in the night, leap'd the hedge, entred my Alley, and without
    my privitie, plaid thine owne rubbers.

    _Nic._ How long shall patience thus securely snore?
    Is it my fault, if these attractive eyes,
    This budding chin, or rosie-colour'd cheek,
    This comely body, and this waxen leg,
    Have drawn her into a fools paradise?
    By _Cupids_ ---- I do swear (no other)
    She's chaster far then _Lucrece_, her grand-mother;
    Pure as glass-window, ere the rider dash it,
    Whiter then Ladyes smock, when she did wash it:
    For well thou wotst (though now my hearts Commandress)
    I once was free, and she but the Camps Landress.

    _Corn._ I, she then came sweet to me; no part about her but smelt
    of Soap-suds, like a _Dryad_ out of a wash-bowl. Pray, or pay.

    _Nich._ Hold.

    _Corn._ Was thy cheese mouldy, or thy peny-worths small?
    Was not thy Ale the mightiest of the earth in Malt,
    And thy stope fill'd like a tide: was not thy bed soft, and
    Thy Bacon fatter then a dropsie? Come, Sir.

    _Nich. Mars_ then inspire me with the fencing skill
    Of our Tragedi[a]n Actors. Honor pricks;
    And Sutler, now I come with thwacks and thwicks.
    Grant us one crush, one pass, and now a high, Cavalto fall:
    Then up again, now down again, yet do no harm at all.

                             _Enter Wife._

    _Wife._ O that ever I was born: why Gent?

    _Corn. Messaline_ of _Rome_, away, disloyal Concubine: I will be
    deafer to thee, then thou art to others: I will have my hundred
    drachma's he owes me, thou arrant whore.

    _Wife._ I know he is an hundred drachmaes o'the score; but what o'
    that? no bloodshed, sweet _Cornelius_. O my heart; o' my conscience
    't is faln thorow the bottom of my bellie. O my sweet Didimus,
    if either of ye miskil one another, what will become of [p]oor
    _Florence_? Pacifie your selves, I pray.

    _Corn._ Go to, my heart is not stone; I am not marble: drie your
    eyes, _Florence_; the scurvie apes-face knows my blinde side well
    enough: leave your puling; will this content ye? let him tast thy
    nether lip, which in signe of amitie I thus take off again: go thy
    ways, and provide the Cows udder.

    _Nich._ Lilie of Concord. And now, honest Sutler, since I have had
    proof as well of thy good nature, as of thy wives before, I will
    acquaint thee with a project shall fully satisfie thee for thy
    debt. Thou shalt understand I am shortly to be knighted.

    _Corn._ The devil thou art.

    _Nich._ Renounce me else; for the sustenance of which Worship
    (which Worship many times wants sustenance) I have here the
    Generals grant to have the leading of two hundred men.

    _Corn._ You jest, you jest.

    _Nich._ Refuse me else to the pit.

    _Corn._ Mercie on us: ha you not forgot your self? by you[r]
    swearing you should be knighted already.

    _Nich._ Damn me, Sir, here's his hand, read it.

    _Corn._ Alas, I cannot.

    _Nich._ I know that.

    It has pleas'd the General to look upon my service. Now, Sir, shall
    you joyn with me in petitioning for fifty men more, in regard of my
    arrearages to you; which if granted, I will bestow the whole profit
    of those fifty men on thee and thine heirs for ever, till _Atropos_
    do cut this simple thred.

    _Corn._ No more, dear Corporal, Sir _Nichodemus_, that shall be, I
    cry your wishes mercie: I am your servant body and goods, moveables
    and immoveables; use my house, use my wife, use me, abuse me, do
    what you list.

    _Nich._ A figment is a candid lye: this is an old Pass. Mark what
    follows.                                                  [_Exeunt._

                   _Enter Martius, and two Captains._

    _Mar._ Pray leave me: you are Romans, honest men,
    Keep me not company, I am turn'd knave,
    Have lost my fame and nature. _Athens, Athens_,
    This _Dorigen_ is thy _Palladium_:
    He that will sack thee, must betray her first,
    Whose words wound deeper than her husbands sword;
    Her eyes make captive still the Conqueror,
    And here they keep her only to that end.
    O subtill devil, what a golden ball
    Did tempt, when thou didst cast her in my way!
    Why, foolish _Sophocles_, broughtst thou not to field
    Thy Lady, that thou mightst have overcome?
    _Martius_ had kneel'd, and yielded all his wreathes
    That hang like Jewels on the seven-fold hill,
    And bid _Rome_, send him out to fight with men,
    (For that she knew he durst) and not 'gainst Fate
    Or Deities, what mortal conquers them?
    Insatiate _Julius_, when his Victories
    Had run ore half the world, had he met her,
    There he had stopt the legend of his deeds,
    Laid by his Arms, been overcome himself,
    And let her vanquish th' other half. And fame
    Made beauteous _Dorigen_, the greater name.
    Shall I thus fall? I will not; no, my tears
    Cast on my heart, shall quench these lawless fires:
    He conquers best, conquers his lewd desires.

                     _Enter Dorigen, with Ladyes._

    _Dor._ Great Sir, my Lord commands me visit you,
    And thinks your retir'd melancholy proceeds
    From some distast of worthless entertainment.
    Will't please you take your chamber? how d'ye do, Sir?

    _Mar._ Lost, lost again; the wild rage of my blood
    Doth Ocean-like oreflow the shallow shore
    Of my weak virtue: my desire's a vane,
    That the least breath from her turns every way.

    _Dor._ What says my Lord?

    _Mar._ Dismiss your women, pray,
    And I'll reveal my grief.

    _Dor._ Leave me.

    _Mar._ Long tales of love (whilst love it self
    Might be enjoyed) are languishing delays.
    There is a secret strange lies in my brest,
    I will partake wi' you, which much concerns
    Your Lord, your self, and me. Oh!

    _Dor._ Strange secrets, Sir,
    Should not be made so cheap to strangers: yet,
    If your strange secret do no lower lie
    Then in your brest, discover it.

    _Mar._ I will.
    Oh! can you not see it, Lady, in my sighs?

    _Dor._ Sighs none can paint, and therefore who can see?

    _Mar._ Scorn me not, _Dorigen_, with mocks: _Alcides_,
    That master'd monsters, was by beautie tam'd,
    _Omphale_ smil'd his club out of his hand,
    And made him spin her smocks. O sweet, I love you,
    And I love _Sophocles_: I must enjoy you,
    And yet I would not injure him.

    _Dor._ Let go;
    You hurt me, Sir: fare well. Stay, is this _Martius_?
    I will not tell my Lord; he'll swear I lye.
    Doubt my fidelitie, before thy honor.
    How hast thou vex'd the gods, that they would let thee
    Thus violate friendship, hospitalitie,
    And all the bounds of sacred pietie?
    Sure thou but tri'st me out of love to him,
    And wouldst reject me, if I did consent.
    O _Martius, Martius_, wouldst thou in one minute,
    Blast all thy Laurels, which so many years
    Thou hast been purchasing with blood and sweat?
    Hath _Dorigen_ never been written, read,
    Without the epithet of chast, chast _Dorigen_?
    And wouldst thou fall upon her chastitie,
    Like a black drop of ink, to blot it out?
    When men shall read the records of thy valour,
    Thy hitherto-brave virtue, and approach
    (Highly content yet) to this foul assault
    Included in this leaf, this ominous leaf,
    They shall throw down the Book, and read no more,
    Though the best deeds ensue, and all conclude,
    That ravell'd the whole story, whose sound heart
    (Which should have been) prov'd the most leprous part.

    _Mar._ O! thou confut'st divinely, and thy words
    Do fall like rods upon me; but they have
    Such silken lines, and silver hooks, that I
    Am faster snar'd: my love has ta'en such hold,
    That (like two wrestlers) though thou stronger be,
    And hast cast me, I hope to pull thee after.
    I must, or perish.

    _Dor._ Perish, _Martius_, then;
    For I here vow unto the gods, These rocks,
    These rocks we see so fix'd, shall be removed,
    Made champion field, ere I so impious prove,
    To stain my Lords bed with adulterous love.

                           _Enter Valerius._

    _Val._ The gods protect fair _Dorigen_.

    _Dor._ Amen,
    From all you wolvish Romanes.                               [_Exit._

    _Val._ Ha? what's this?
    Still, brother, in your moods? O th[e]n my doubts
    Are truths. Have at it: I must try a way
    To be resolv'd.

    _Mar._ How strangely dost thou look! what ailst thou?

    _Val._ What ailst thou?

    _Mar._ Why, I 'm mad.

    _Val._ Why, I [a]m madder. _Martius_, draw thy sword,
    And lop a villain from the earth; for if
    Thou wilt not, on some tree about this place
    I'll hang my self; _Valerius_ shall not live
    To wound his brothers honor, stain his Countrey,
    And branded with ingratitude to all times.

    _Mar._ For what can all this be?

    _Val._ I [a]m in love.

    _Mar._ Why so am I. With whom? ha?

    _Val. Dorigen._

    _Mar._ With _Dorigen_? how dost thou love her? speak.

    _Val._ Even to the height of lust; and I must have her or else I
    die.

    _Mar._ Thou shalt, thou daring Traitor.
    On all the confines I have rid my horse,
    Was there no other woman for thy choice
    But _Dorigen_? Why, villain, she is mine:
    She makes me pine thus, sullen, mad, and fool;
    'T is I must have her, or I die.

    _Val._ O all ye gods,
    With mercy look on this declining rock
    Of valour, and of virtue; breed not up
    (From infancie) in honor, to full man,
    As you have done him, to destroy: here, strike;
    For I have onely search'd thy wound: dispatch;
    Far, far be such love from _Valerius_,
    So far he scorns to live to be call'd brother
    By him that dares own such folly and such vice.

    _Mar._ 'T is truth thou speak'st; but I do hate it: peace,
    If heaven will snatch my sword out of my hand,
    And put a rattle in it, what can I do?
    He that is destin'd to be odious
    In his old age, must undergo his fate.

                   _Enter Cornelius and Nichodemus._

    _Corn._ If you do not back me, I shall never do't.

    _Nich._ I warrant you.

    _Corn._ Humh, humh: Sir; my Lord, my Lord.

    _Mart._ Hah? what's the matter?

    _Corn._ Humh; concerning the odd fifty, my Lord, and 't please your
    Generality, his Worship, Sir _Nichodemus_.

    _Mar._ What's here? a Pass? you would for _Rome_? you lubbers, doth
    one days laziness make ye covet home? away, ye boarish rogues; ye
    dogs, away.

                             _Enter wife._

    _Wife._ Oh, oh, oh:
    How now man, are you satisfi'd?

    _Corn._ I, I, I: a ---- o' your Corporal; I 'm paid soundly, I was
    never better paid in all my life.

    _Wife._ Mar[r]y the gods blessing on his honors heart: you have
    done a charitable deed, Sir, many more such may you live to do,
    Sir: the gods keep you, Sir, the gods protect you.          [_Exit._

    _Mar._ These peasants mock me sure (_Valerius_)
    Forgive my dotage, see my ashes urn'd,
    And tell fair _Dorigen_, (she that but now
    Left me with this harsh vow, Sooner these rocks
    Should be remov'd, then she would yield) that I
    Was yet so loving, on her gift to die.

    _Val._ O _Jupiter_ forbid it, Sir, and grant
    This my device may certifie thy mind:
    You are my brother, nor must perish thus:
    Be comforted: think you fair _Dorigen_
    Would yield your wishes, if these envious rocks
    By skill could be remov'd, or by fallacie
    She made believe so?

    _Mar._ Why, she could not chuse;
    The _Athenians_ are religious in their vows,
    Above all nations.

    _Val._ Soft, down yonder hill
    The Lady comes this way, once more to trie her,
    If she persist in obstinacie: by my skill
    Learn'd from the old _Caldean_ was my Tutor,
    Who train'd me in the _Mathematicks_, I will
    So dazle and delude her sight, that she
    Shall think this great impossibilitie
    Effected by some supernatural means.
    Be confident; this engine shall at least,
    Till the gods better order, still this brest.      [_Exit Valerius._

    _Mar._ O my best brother, go; and for reward,
    Chuse any part o'th' world, I'll give it thee.
    O little _Rome_, men say thou art a god;
    Thou mightst have got a fitter fool then I.

                            _Enter Dorigen._

    _Dor._ Art thou there, Basilisk? remove thine eyes,
    For I'm sick to death with thy infection.

    _Mar._ Yet, yet have mercy on me; save him, Lady,
    Whose single arm defends all _Rome_, whose mercie
    Hath sav'd thy husband's and thy life.

    _Dor._ To spoil
    Our fame and honors? no, my vow is fixt,
    And stands, as constant as these stones do, still.

    _Mar._ Then pitie me, ye gods; you onely may
    Move her, by tearing these firm stones a way.

                                                       [_Solemn musick._

                                     _A mist ariseth, the rocks remove._

                _Enter Valerius like Mercury, singing._

    Val.   _Martius rejoyce, Jove sends me from above,_
           _His Messenger, to cure thy desperate love;_
           _To shew rash vows c[a]nnot binde destinie:_
           _Lady, behold, the rocks transplanted be._
         _Hard-hearted Dorigen, yield, lest for contempt,_
         _They fix thee here a rock, whence they 're exempt._

    _Dor._ What strange delusion's this? what Sorcery
    Affrights me with these apparitions?
    My colder Chastity's nigh turn'd to death.
    Hence, lewd Magician; dar'st thou make the gods
    Bawds to thy lust; will they do miracles
    To further evil? or do they love it now?
    Know, if they dare do so, I dare hate them,
    And will no longer serve 'em. _Jupiter_,
    Thy golden showr, nor thy snow-white Swan,
    Had I been _Læda_, or bright _Danae_,
    Had bought mine honor. Turn me into stone
    For being good, and blush when thou hast done.      [_Exit Dorigen._

                           _Enter Valerius._

    _Mar._ O my _Valerius_, all yet will not do;
    Unless I could so draw mine honestie
    Down to the lees to be a ravisher;
    She calls me witch, and villain.

    _Val._ Patience, Sir,
    The gods will punish perjury. Let her breathe
    And ruminate on this strange sight. Time decays
    The strongest fairest buildings we can finde;
    But still _Diana_, fortifie her minde.                    [_Exeunt._

                     _Enter Sophocles and Dorigen._

    _Soph._ Weep not bright _Dorigen_; for thou hast stood
    Constant and chaste (it seems 'gainst gods and men)
    When rocks and mountains were remov'd. These wonders
    Do stupifie my senses. _Martius_,
    This is inhumane: was thy sickness lust?
    Yet were this truth, why weeps she? Jealous soul,
    What dost thou thus suggest? Vows, Magick, Rocks?
    Fine tales, and tears. She ne'er complain'd before.
    I bade her visit him; she often did,
    Had many opportunities. Humh, 'tis naught: O!
    No way but this. Come, weep no more, I have ponder'd
    This miracle: the anger of the gods,
    Thy vow, my love to thee, and _Martius_:
    He must not perish, nor thou be forsworn,
    Lest worse fates follow us; Go, keep thy oath:
    For chaste, and whore, are words of equal length:
    But let not _Martius_ know that I consent,
    O! I'm pull'd in pieces.

    _Dor._ I? say you so?
    I'll meet you in your path. O wretched men!
    With all your valour and your learning, bubbles.
    Forgive me, _Sophocles_. Yet why kneel I
    For pardon, having been but over-diligent,
    Like an obedient servant, antedating
    My Lords command? Sir, I have often, and already given
    This bosom up to his embraces, and
    Am proud that my dear Lord is pleas'd with it;
    Whose gentle honorable minde I see
    Participates even all, his wife and all,
    Unto his friend. You are sad, Sir. _Martius_ loves me,
    And I love _Martius_ with such ardencie,
    As never married couple could: I must
    Attend him now. My Lord, when you have need
    To use your own wife, pray Sir send for me;
    Till then, make use of your Philosophie.                    [_Exit._

    _Soph._ Stay, _Dorigen_: O me, inquisitive fool!
    Thou that didst order this congested heap
    When it was Chaos, 'twixt thy spacious palms
    Forming it to this vast rotundie;
    Dissolve it now; shuffle the elements,
    That no one proper by it self may stand:
    Let the sea quench the sun, and in that instant
    The sun drink up the sea: day, ne'er come down,
    To light me to those deeds that must be done.               [_Exit._

    _Drums and Colours._

        _Enter Martius, Valerius, Captains and soldiers, at one_
             _door, and Dorigen with Lad[i]es, at another._

    _Dor._ Hail, General of _Rome_; from _Sophocles_
    That honors _Martius_, _Dorigen_ presents
    Her self to be dishonour'd: do thy will;
    For _Sophocles_ commands me to obey.
    Come, violate all rules of holiness,
    And rend the consecrated knot of love.

    _Mar._ Never, _Valerius_, was I blest till now:
    Behold the end of all my weary steps,
    The prize of all my Battels: leave us all;
    Leave us as quick as thought. Thus joy begin,
    In zealous love a minutes loss is sin.

    _Val._ Can _Martius_ be so vile? or _Dorigen_?

    _Dor._ Stay, stay, and monster, keep thou further of;
    I thought thy brave soul would have much, much loath'd
    To have gone on still on such terms as this.
    See, thou ungrateful, since thy desperate lust
    Nothing can cure but death, I'll die for thee,
    Whilst my chaste name lives to posterity.

    _Mar._ Live, live, thou Angel of thy sex: forgive,
    Till by those golden tresses thou be'st snatch'd
    Alive to Heaven: for thy corruption's
    So little, that it cannot suffer death.
    Was ever such a woman? O my mirror!
    How perfectly thou shew'st me all my faults,
    Which now I hate, and when I next attempt thee,
    Let all the fires in the _Zodiak_
    Drop on this cursed head.

    _All._ O blest event!

    _Dor._ Rise like the sun again in all his glory,
    After a dark Eclipse.

    _Mar._ Never without a pardon.

             _Enter Sophocles, and two or three with him._

    _Dor._ Sir, you have forgiven your self.

    _Soph._ Behold their impudence: are my words just?
    Unthankful man, viper to Arms, and _Rome_
    Thy natural mother; have I warm'd thee here
    To corrode ev'n my heart? _Martius_, prepare
    To kill me, or be kill'd.

    _Mar._ Why _Sophocles_?
    Then prethee kill me; I deserve it highly;
    For I have both transgress'd 'gainst men, and gods;
    But am repentant now, and in best case
    To uncase my soul of this oppressing flesh;
    Which, though (Gods witness) nev'r was actually
    Injurious to thy wife and thee, yet 't was
    Her goodness that restrain'd and held me now:
    But take my life, dear friend, for my intent,
    Or else forgive it.

    _Val._ By the gods of _Athens_,
    These words are true, and all direct again.

    _Soph._ Pardon me, _Dorigen_.

    _Mar._ Forgive me, _Sophocles_,
    And _Dorigen_ too, and every one that 's good.

    _Dor._ Rise, noble Roman, belov'd _Sophocles_,
    Take to thy brest thy friend.

    _Mar._ And to thy heart
    Thy matchless wife: Heaven has not stuff enough
    To make another such: for if it could,
    _Martius_ would marry too. For thy blest sake
    (O thou infinitie of excellence)
    Henceforth in mens discourse _Rome_ shall not take
    The wall of _Athens_, as 'tofore. But when
    In their fair honors we to speak do come,
    We'll say 'T was so in _Athens_, and in _Rome_.

                                                    [_Exeun[t] in pomp._

                           _Diana descends._

    Diana. _Honor set ope thy gates, and with thee bring_
             _My servant and thy friend, fair_ Dorigen_:_
           _Let her triumph, with her, her Lord, and friend,_
           _Who, though misled, still honor was their end_.   [Flourish.

    _Enter the Shew of_ Honors Triumph; _a great flourish of Trumpets
    and Drums within; Then enter a noise of Trumpets sounding
    cheerfully. Then follows an armed Knight bearing a Crimson
    Banneret in hand, with the inscription_ Valour: _by his side
    a Lady, bearing a Watchet Banneret, the inscription_ Clemencie:
    _next_ Martius _and_ Sophocles _with Coronets. Next, two
    Lad[i]es, one bearing a white Banneret, the inscription_ Chastity:
    _the other a black, the inscription_ Constancie. _Then_ Dorigen
    _crown'd. Last, a Chariot drawn by two Moors, in it a Person
    crown'd, with a Scepter: on the top, in an antick Scutcheon, is
    written_ Honor. _As they pass over_, Diana _ascends_.

    _Rinald._ How like you it?

    _Frig._ Rarely; so well, I would they would do it again. How many
    of our wives now adays would deserve to triumph in such a Chariot?

    _Rinald._ That's all one; you see they triumph in Caroches.

    _Frig._ That they do, by the mass; but not all neither; many of
    them are content with Carts. But Seignior, I have now found out a
    great absurditie i'faith.

    _Rinald._ What was 't?

    _Frig._ The Prologue presenting four Triumphs, made but three legs
    to the King: a three-legged Prologue, 't was monstrous.

    _Rinald._ 'T had been more monstrous to have had a four-legg'd one.
    Peace, the King speaks.

    _Em._ Here was a woman, _Isabel._

    _Isa._ I, my Lord,
    But that she told a lye to vex her husband;
    Therein sh[e] fail'd.

    _Em._ She serv'd him well enough;
    He that was so much man, yet would be cast
    To jealousie for her integrity.
    This teacheth us, the passion of love
    Can fight with Soldiers, and with Scholars too.

    _Isa._ In _Martius_, clemencie and valour shown,
    In the other, courage and humanitie;
    And therefore in the Triumph they were usher'd
    By clemencie and valour.

    _Em._ Rightly observ'd,
    As she by chastitie and constancie;
    What hurt's now in a Play, against which some rail
    So vehemently? thou and I, my love,
    Make excellent use methinks: I learn to be
    A lawful lover void of jealousie,
    And thou a constant wife. Sweet Poetry's
    A flower, where men, like Bees and Spiders, may
    Bear poison, or else sweets and Wax away.
    Be venom-drawing Spiders they that will;
    I'll be the Bee, and suck the honey still.              [_Flourish._

                           _Cupid descends._

    Cupid. _Stay, clouds, ye rack too fast: bright Phœbus see,_
           _Honor has triumph'd with fair Chastity:_
           _Give Love now leave, in purity to shew_
           _Unchaste affe[ct]ions flie not from his bowe._
             _Produce the sweet example of your youth._
             _Whilst I provide a Triumph for your Truth._     [Flourish.

              _Enter Violanta (with childe) and Gerrard._

    _Viol._ Why does my _Gerr[a]rd_ grieve?

    _Ger._ O my sweet Mistris,
    'Tis not life (which by our _Milain_ law
    My fact hath forfeited) makes me thus pensive;
    That I would lose to save the little finger
    Of this your noble burthen, from least hurt,
    Because your blood is in't. But since your love
    Made poor incompatible me the parent,
    (Being we are not married) your dear blood
    Falls under the same cruel penalty;
    And can Heaven think fit ye die for me?
    For Heavens sake say I ravisht you, I'll swear it,
    To keep your life, and repute unstain'd.

    _Viol._ O _Gerrard_, th' art my life and faculties:
    And if I lose thee, I'll not keep mine own;
    The thought of whom, sweetens all miseries.
    Wouldst have me murder thee beyond thy death?
    Unjustly scandal thee with ravishment?
    It was so far from rape, that Heaven doth know,
    If ever the first Lovers, ere they fell,
    Knew simply in the state of innocence,
    Such was this act, this, that doth ask no blush.

    _Ger._ O! but my rarest _Violanta_, when
    My Lord _Randulpho_ brother to you[r] father,
    Shall understand this, how will he exclaim,
    That my poor Aunt, and me, which his free alms
    Hath nurs'd, since _Millain_ by the Duke of _Mantua_
    (Who now usurps it) was surpriz'd? that time
    My father and my mother were both slain,
    With my Aunts husband, as she says, their states
    Despoil'd and seiz'd; 'tis past my memory,
    But thus she told me: onely thus I know,
    Since I could understand, your honor'd Uncle
    Hath given me all the liberal education,
    That his own son might look for, had he one;
    Now will he say, Dost thou requite me thus?
    O! the thought kills me.

    _Viol._ Gentle, gentle _Gerrard_,
    Be cheer'd, and hope the best. My mother, father,
    And uncle love me most indulgently,
    Being the onely branch of all their stocks:
    But neither they, nor he thou wouldst not grieve
    With this unwelcom news, shall ever hear
    _Violanta_'s tongue reveal, much less accuse
    _Gerrard_ to be the father of his own;
    I'll rather silent die, that thou maist live
    To see thy little of-spring grow and thrive.

                           _Enter Dorothea._

    _Dor._ Mistris, away, your Lord and father seeks you;
    I'll convey _Gerrard_ out at the back door;
    He has found a husband for you, and insults
    In his invention, little thinking you
    Have made your own choice, and possest him too.

    _Viol._ A husband? 't mus[t] be _Gerrard_, or my death.
    Fare well; be onely true unto thy self,
    And know Heavens goodness shall prevented be,
    Ere worthiest _Gerrard_ suffer harm for me.

    _Ger._ Fare well, my life and soul. Aunt, to your counsel
    I flee for aid. O unexpressible love! thou art
    An undigested heap of mixt extremes,
    Whose pangs are wakings, and whose pleasures dreams.      [_Exeunt._

                _Enter Benvoglio, Angelina, Ferdinand._

    _Ben._ My _Angelina_, never didst thou yet
    So please me, as in this consent; and yet
    Thou hast pleas'd me well, I swear, old wench: ha, ha.
    _Ferdinand_, she's thine own; thou'st have her, boy,
    Ask thy good Lady else.

    _Ferd._ Whom shall I have, Sir?

    _Ben._ Whom d' ye think, ifaith?

    _Angel._ Ghess.

    _Ferd._ Noble Madam,
    I may hope (prompted by shallow merit)
    Through your profound grace, for your chamber-maid.

    _Ben._ How 's that? how 's that?

                                     [_Ferd._ Her chamber-maid, my Lord.

    _Ben._] Her chamber-pot, my Lord. You modest ass,
    Thou never shew'dst thy self an ass till now.
    'Fore Heaven I am angrie with thee. Sirha, sirha,
    This whitmeat spirit's not yours, legitimate,
    Advance your hope, and 't please you: ghess again.

    _Ang._ And let your thoughts flee higher: aim them right;
    Sir, you may hit, you have the fairest white.

    _Ferd._ If I may be so bold then, my good Lord,
    Your favour doth encourage me to aspire
    To catch my Ladyes Gentlewoman.

    _Ben._ Where?
    Where would you catch her?
    Do you know my daughter _Violanta_, Sir?

    _Ang._ Well said: no more about the bush.

    _Ferd._ My good Lord,
    I have gaz'd on _Violanta_, and the stars,
    Whose Heavenly influence I admir'd, not knew,
    Nor ever was so sinful to believe
    I might attain 't.

    _Ben._ Now you are an ass again;
    For if thou ne'er attain'st, 't is onely long
    Of that faint heart of thine, which never did it.
    She is your Lords heir, mine, _Benvoglio_'s heir,
    My brothers too, _Randulpho_'s; her descent
    Not behinde any of the _Millanois_.
    And _Ferdinand_, although thy parentage
    Be unknown, thou know'st that I have bred thee up
    From five yeers old, and (do not blush to hear it)
    Have found thy wisdom, trust, and fair success
    So full in all my affa[ir]s, that I am fitter
    To call thee Master, then thou me thy Lord.
    Thou canst not be but sprung of gentlest blood;
    Thy minde shines thorow thee, like the radiant sun,
    Although thy body be a beauteous cloud.
    Come, seriously this is no flatterie,
    And well thou know'st it, though thy modest blood
    Rise like the morning in thy cheek to hear 't.
    Sir, I can speak in earnest: Vertuous service,
    So meritorious, _Ferdinand_, as yours,
    (Yet bashful still, and silent?) should extract
    A fuller price then impudence exact:
    And this is now the wages it must have;
    My daughter is thy wife, my wealth thy slave.

    _Ferd._ Good Madam pinch; I sleep: does my Lord mock,
    And you assist? Custom's inverted quite;
    For old men now adays do flout the young.

    _Ben._ Fetch _Violanta_. As I intend this
    Religiously, let my soul finde joy or pain.        [_Exit Angelina._

    _Ferd._ My honor'd Lord and Master, if I hold
    That worth could merit such felicitie,
    You bred it in me, and first purchas'd it;
    It is your own: and what productions
    In all my faculties my soul begets,
    Your very mark is on: you need not add
    Rewards to him, that is in [d]ebt to you:
    You sav'd my life, Sir, in the Massacre;
    There you begot me new, since foster'd me.
    O! can I serve to[o] much, or pray for you?
    Alas, 'tis slender paiment to your bountie.
    Your daughter is a paradice, and I
    Unworthie to be set there; you may chuse
    The royalst seeds of _Milain_.

    _Ben._ Prethee peace,
    Thy goodness makes me weep; I am resolv'd:
    I am no Lord o' th' time, to tie my blood
    To sordid muck; I have enough: my name,
    My [s]tate and honors I will store in thee,
    Whose wisdom will rule well, keep and increase:
    A knave or fool, that could confer the like,
    Would bate each hour, diminish every day.
    Thou art her price-lot th[e]n, drawn out by fate;
    An honest wise man is a Princes mate.

    _Ferd._ Sir, Heaven and you have over-charg'd my brest
    With grace beyond my continence; I shall burst:
    The blessing you have given me (witness Saints)
    I would not change for _Millain_. But, my Lord,
    Is she prepar'd?

    _Ben._           What needs Preparative,
    Where such a Cordial is prescrib'd as thou?
    Thy person and thy virtues in one scale,
    Shall poize hers, with her beautie and her wealth;
    If not, I add my will unto thy weight;
    Thy mother's with her now. Son, take my keys,
    And let this prepar[a]tion for this Marriage,
    (This welcome Marriage) long determin'd here,
    Be quick, and gorgeous.--_Gerrard._

                            _Enter Gerrard._

    _Ger._ My good Lord,
    My Lord, your brother craves your conference
    Instantly, on affairs of high import.

    _Ben._ Why, what news?

    _Ger._ The Tyrant, my good Lord,
    Is sick to death of his old Apoplexie,
    Whereon the States advise, that Letters-missive
    Be straight dispatcht to all the neighbour-Countreys,
    And Schedules too divulg'd on every post,
    To enquire the lost Duke forth: their purpose is
    To re-instate him.

    _Ben._ 'Tis a pious deed.
    _Ferdinand_, to my daughter: this delay
    (Though to so good a purpose) angers me;
    But I'll recover it. Be secret, son.
    Go woo with truth and expedition.                           [_Exit._

    _Ferd._ O my unsounded joy! how fares my _Gerrard_,
    My noble twin-friend? fie, thy l[oo]k is heavie,
    Sullen, and sowre; blanch it: didst thou know
    My cause of joy, thou 'ldst never sorrow more,
    I know thou lov'st me so, How dost thou?

    _Ger._ Well,
    Too well: my fraught of health my sickness is;
    In life, I am dead; by living dying still.

    _Ferd._ What sublunary mischief can predominate
    A wise man thus? or doth thy friendship play
    (In this antipathous extreme) with mine,
    Lest gladness suffocate me? I, I, I do feel
    My spirit's turn'd to fire, my blood to air,
    And I am like a purifi'd essence
    Tri'd from all drossie parts.

    _Ger._ Were 't but my life,
    The loss were sacrific'd; but virtue
    Must for me be slain, and innocence made dust.

    _Ferd._ Fare well good _Gerrard_.

    _Ger._ Dearest friend, stay.

    _Ferd._ Sad thoughts are no companions for me now,
    Much less sad words: thy bosom bindes some secret,
    Which do not trust me with; for mine retains
    Another, which I must conceal from thee.

    _Ger._ I would reveal it: 't is a heavie tale:
    Canst thou be true, and secret still?

    _Ferd._ Why, friend?
    If you continue true unto your self,
    I have no means of falshood. Lock this door;
    Come, yet your prisoner's sure.

    _Ger._ Stay, _Ferdinand_.

    _Ferd._ What is this trouble? Love?
    Why, thou art capable of any woman.
    Doth want oppress thee? I will lighten thee:
    Hast thou offended law? My Lord and thine,
    And I, will save thy life. Does servitude
    Upbraid thy freedom, that she suffers it?
    Have patience but three days, and I will make thee
    Thy Lords companion. Can a friend do more?

    _Ger._ Lend me the means. How can this be?

    _Ferd._ First let this Cabinet keep your pawn, and I will trust:
    Yet for the form of satisfaction,
    Take this my Oath to boot. By my presum'd
    Gentrie, and sacred known Christianitie,
    I'll die, ere I reveal thy trust.

    _Ger._ Then hear it.
    Your Lords fair daughter _Violanta_ is
    My betrothed wife, goes great with childe by me;
    And by this deed both made a pr[e]y to Law.
    How may I save her life? advise me, friend.

    _Ferd._ What did he say? _Gerrard_, whose voice was that?
    O death unto my heart, bane to my soul!
    My wealth is vanish'd like the rich mans store:
    In one poor minute all my daintie fare
    But jugling dishes; my fat hope, despair.

    _Ger._ Is this so odious? where's your mirth?

    _Ferd._ Why thou
    Hast robb'd me of it. _Gerrard_, draw thy sword;
    And if thou lov'st my Mistris chastitie,
    Defend it, else I'll cut it from thy heart,
    Thy theevish heart that stole it, and restore 't,
    Do miracles to gain her.

    _Ger._ Was she thine?

    _Ferd._ Never, but in my wish, and her fathers vow,
    Which now he left with me, on such sure terms;
    He call'd me son, and will'd me to provide
    My Wedding-preparation.

    _Ger._ Strange.

    _Ferd._ Come, let's
    Kill one another quickly.

    _Ger. Ferdinand_, my love is old to her, thine new begot:
    I have not wrong'd thee; think upon thine Oath.

    _Ferd._ It manacles me, _Gerrard_, else this hand
    Should bear thee to the Law. Fare well for ever:
    Since friendship is so fatal, never more
    Will I have friend: thou hast put so sure a plea,
    That all my weal's litigious made by thee.

    _Ger._ I did no crime to you. His love transports him;
    And yet I mourn, that cruel destinie
    Should make us two thus one anothers cross:
    We have lov'd since boys; for the same time cast him
    On Lord _Benvoglio_, that my Aunt and I
    Were succour'd by _Randulpho_: men have call'd us
    The parallels of _Millain_; and some said
    We were not much unlike. O Heaven divert,
    That we should (ever since that time) be breeding
    Mutual destruction.

                           _Enter Dorothea._

    _Dor._ O where are you? you have made a fair hand. By ---- yonder
    is your Aunt with my Lady; she came in, just as she was wooing
    your Mistris for another; and what did me she, but out with her
    purse, and shew'd all the naked truth, ifaith. Fie upon you, you
    should never trust an old woman with a secret; they cannot hold;
    they cannot hold so well as we, and you'ld hang 'em. First, there
    was swearing and staring, then there was howling and weeping, and O
    my daughter, and O my mother.

    _Ger._ The effect, the effect.

    _Dor._ Marry no way, but one with you.

    _Ger._ Why welcom. Shall she scape?

    _Dor._ Nay, she has made her scape already.

    _Ger._ Why, is she gone?

    _Dor._ The scape of her virginitie, I mean.
    You men are as dull, you can conceive nothing;
    You think it is enough to beget.

    _Ger._ I; but surely, _Dorothea_, that scap'd not;
    Her maiden-head suffer'd.

    _Dor._ And you were the Executioner.

    _Ger._ But what's the event? lord, how thou starv'st me, _Doll_!

    _Dor._ Lord how thou starv'st me, _Doll_? By ---- I would fain see
    you cry a little. Do you stand now, as if you could get a child?
    Come, I'll rack you no more: This is the heart of the business:
    always provided, Signior, that if it please the fates to make you
    a Lord, you be not proud, nor forget your poor handmaid _Doll_,
    who was partly accessary to the incision of this _Holofernian_
    Maidenhead.

    _Ger._ I will forget my name first. Speak.

    _Dor._ Then thus; My Lady knows all; her sorrow is reasonably
    well digested; has vow'd to conceal it from my Lord, till delay
    ripen things better; Wills you to attend her this evening at the
    back gate; I'll let you in; where her own Confessor shall put you
    together lawfully, e'r the child be born; which birth is very near,
    I can assure you: all your charge is your vigilance; and to bring
    with you some trusty Nurse, to convey the Infant out of the house.

    _Ger._ Oh beam of comfort, take! go, tell my Lady
    I pray for her as I walk: my joys so flow,
    That what I speak or do, I do not know.                   [_Exeunt._

                               Dumb Shew.

    _Enter_ Violanta _at one door, we[e]ping, supported by_ Cornelia
        _and a Frier; at another door_, Angelina _weeping, attended
        by_ Dorothea. Violanta _kneels down for pardon_. Angelina
        _shewing remorse, takes her up, and cheers her; so doth_
        Cornelia. Angelina _sends_ Dorothea _for_ Gerrard. _Enter_
        Gerrard _with_ Dorothea: Angelina _and_ Cornelia _seem to_
        _chide him, shewing_ Violanta's _heavy plight_: Violanta
        _rejoyceth in him: he makes signes of sorrow, intreating
        pardon_: Angelina _brings_ Gerrard _and_ Violanta _to the
        Frier; he joyns them hand in hand, takes a Ring from_
        Gerrard, _puts it on_ Violanta's _finger; blesseth them_;
        Gerrard _kisseth her: the Frier takes his leave_. Violanta
        _makes shew of great pain, is instantly conveyed in by the
        Women_, Gerrard _is bid stay; he walks in meditation, seeming
        to pray. Enter_ Dorothea, _whispers him, sends him out. Enter_
        Gerrard _with a Nurse blindfold; gives her a purse. To them
        Enter_ Angelina _and_ Cornelia _with an Infant; they present
        it to_ Gerrard; _he kisseth and blesseth it; puts it into
        the Nurses arms, kneels, and takes his leave_. Exeunt _all
        severally_.

                   _Enter_ Benvoglio _and_ Randulpho.

    _Ben._ He's dead, you say then.

    _Rand._ Certainly: and to hear
    The people now dissect him now he's gone,
    Makes my ears burn, that lov'd him not: such Libels,
    Such Elegies and Epigrams they have made,
    More odious than he was. Brother, great men
    Had need to live by love, meting their deeds
    With virtues rule; sound, with the weight of judgement,
    Their privat'st action: for though while they live
    Their power and policie masque their villanies,
    Their bribes, their lust, pride, and ambition,
    And make a many slaves to worship 'em,
    That are their flatterers, and their bawds in these:
    These very slaves shall, when these great beasts dye,
    Publish their bowels to the vulgar eye.

    _Ben._ 'Fore Heaven 'tis true. But is _Rinaldo_ (brother) our good
             Duke, heard of living?

    _Rand._ Living, Sir, and will be shortly with the Senate: has
    Been close conceal'd at _Mantua_, and reliev'd:
    But what's become of his? no tidings yet?
    But brother, till our good Duke shall arrive,
    Carry this news, here. Where's your _Ferdinand_?

    _Ben._ Oh busie, Sir, about this marriage:
    And yet my Girl o'th' suddain is fall'n sick:
    You'll see her e'r you go?

    _Rand._ Yes; well I love her;
    And yet I wish I had another daughter
    To gratifie my _Gerrard_, who (by ----)
    Is all the glory of my family,
    But has too much worth to [l]ive so obscure;
    I'll have him Secretary of Estate
    Upon the Dukes return: for credit me,
    The value of that Gentleman's not known;
    His strong abilities are fit to guide
    The whole Republique: he hath Learning, youth,
    Valour, discretion, honesty of a Saint;
    His Aunt is wondrous good too.

          _Enter_ Violanta _in a bed_; Angelina _and_ Dorothea
                           _sitting by her_.

    _Ben._ You have spoke
    The very character of _Ferdinand_:
    One is the others mirror. How now, Daughter?

    _Rand._ How fares my Neece?

    _Viol._ A little better, Uncle, then I was,
    I thank you.

    _Rand._ Brother, a meer cold.

    _Angel._ It was a cold and heat, I think: but Heaven be thanked
    We have broken that away.

    _Ben._ And yet, _Violanta_,
    You'll lie alone still, and you see what's got.

    _Dor._ Sure, Sir, when this was got, she had a bed-fellow.

    _Rand._ What has her chollick left her in her belly?

    _Dor._ 'T has left her, but she has had a sore fit.

    _Rand._ I, that same Collick and Stone's inherent to us
    O' th' womans side: our Mothers had them both.

    _Dor._ So has she had, Sir. How these old fornicators talk! she had
             more
    Need of Mace-Ale, and Rhenish-wine Caudles, heaven knows,
    Then your aged Discipline.

    _Ben._ Say?

                           _Enter_ Ferdinand.

    _Ang._ She will have the man; and on recovery
    Will wholly be dispos'd by you.

    _Ben._ That's my wench:
    How now? what change is this? why _Ferdinand_,
    Are these your Robes of joy should be indu'd?
    Doth _Hymen_ wear black? I did send for you
    To have my honorable Brother witness
    The Contract I will make 'twixt you and her.
    Put off all doubt; she loves ye? what d' ye say?

    _Rand._ Speak man, Why look you so distractedly?

    _Ferd._ There are your keys, [Sir:] I'll no Contract[s, I]
    Divinest _V[i]olanta_, I will serve you
    Thus on my knees, and pray for you: _Juno, Lucina fer opem_.
    My inequality ascends no higher:
    I dare not marry you.

    _Ben._ How's this?

    _Ferd._ Good night,
    I have a friend has almost made me mad:
    I weep sometimes, and instantly can laugh:
    Nay, I do dance, and sing, and suddenly
    Roar like a storm. Strange tricks these, are they not?
    And wherefore all this? Shall I tell you? no,
    Thorow mine ears, my heart a plague hath caught,
    And I have vow'd to keep it close, not shew
    My grief to any; for it has no cure.
    On, wandring steps, to some remote place move:
    I'll keep my vow, though I have lost my Love.               [_Exit._

    _Ben._ 'Fore heaven, distracted for her! fare you well:
    I'll watch his steps; for I no joy shall find,
    Till I have found his cause, and calm'd his mind.           [_Exit._

    [_Rand._] He's overcome with joy.

    _Ang[e]l._ 'Tis very strange.

    _Rand._ Well, Sister, I must leave you; the time's busie.
    _Violanta_, chear you up; and I pray Heaven
    Restore each to their love, and health again.               [_Exit._

    _Viol._ Amen, Great Uncle. Mother, what a chance
    Unluckily is added to my woe,
    In this young Gentleman!

    _Ang[e]l._ True, _Violanta_:
    It grieves me much. _Doll_, go you instantly,
    And find out _Gerrard_; tell him his friends hap,
    And let him use best means to comfort him;
    But as his life preserve this secret still.

    _Viol._ Mother, I'ld not offend you: might not _Gerrard_
    Steal in, and see me in the evening?

    _Angel._ Well,
    Bid him do so.

    _Viol._ Heavens blessing o' your heart.
    Do ye not call Child-bearing, Travel, Mother?

    _Angel._ Yes.

    _Viol._ It well may be, The bare-foot traveller
    That's born a Prince, and walks his pilgrimage,
    Whose tender feet kiss the remorseless stones
    Only, ne'er felt a travel like to it.
    Alas, dear Mother, you groan'd thus for me,
    And yet how disobedient have I been!

    _Angel._ Peace, _Violanta_, thou hast always been
    Gentle and good.

    _Viol. Gerrard_ is better, Mother:
    Oh if you knew the implicite innocency
    Dwells in his brest, you'ld love him like your Prayers.
    I see no reason but my Father might
    Be told the truth, being pleas'd for _Ferdinand_
    To wooe himself: and _Gerard_ ever was
    His full comparative: my Uncle loves him,
    As he loves _Ferdinand_.

    _Angel._ No, not for the world,
    Since his intent is cross'd: lov'd _Ferdinand_
    Thus ruin'd, and a child got out of wedlock:
    His madness would pursue ye both to death.

    _Viol._ As you please (mother:) I am now, methinks,
    Even in the land of ease; I'll sleep.

    _Angel._ Draw in
    The bed nearer the fire: silken rest,
    Tie all thy cares up.                                     [_Exeunt._

        _Enter_ Ferdinand _and_ Benvoglio _privately after him_.

    _Ferd._ Oh blessed solitude! here my grief[s] may speak;
    And sorrow, I will argue with thee now:
    Nothing will keep me company: the flowers
    Die at my moan; the gliding silver streams
    Hasten to flee my lamentations;
    The air rolls from 'em; and the Golden Sun
    Is smother'd pale as _Phœbe_ with my sighs:
    Only the earth is kind, that stays. Then earth,
    To thee will I complain. Why do the Heavens
    Impose upon me Love, what I can ne'er enjoy?
    Before fruition was impossible,
    I did not thirst it. _Gerrard_, she is thine,
    Seal'd and deliver'd; but 'twas ill to stain
    Her virgin state, e'r ye were married.
    Poor Infant, what's become of thee? thou know'st not
    The woe thy parents brought thee t[o]. Dear earth,
    Bury this close in thy sterility;
    Be barren to this seed, let it not grow;
    For if it do, 'twill bud no Violet
    Nor Gillyflower, but wild Brier, or rank Rue,
    Unsavory and hurtful.

    _Ben. Ferdinand_,
    Thy steel hath digg'd the Earth, thy words my Heart.

    _Ferd._ Oh! I have violated faith, betraid
    My friend and innocency.

    _Ben._ Desperate youth,
    Violate not thy soul too: I have showers
    For thee, young man; but _Gerrard_ flames for thee.
    Was thy base pen made to dash out mine honor,
    And prostitute my Daughter? Bastard, whore,
    Come, turn thy femal tears into revenge,
    Which I will quench my thirst with, e'r I see
    Daughter, or Wife, or branded Family.
    By ---- both dye: and for amends,
    _Ferd'nando_ be my heir. I'll to my brother,
    First tell him all, then to the Duke for justice:
    This morning he's receiv'd. Mountains nor Seas
    Shall bar my flight to vengeance: the foul stain
    Printed on me, thy bloud shall rinse again.                 [_Exit._

    _Ferd._ I have transgress'd all goodness, witlesly
    Rais'd mine own curs[es] from posterity:
    I'll follow, to redress in what I may;
    If not, your heir can dye as well as they.                  [_Exit._

                               Dumb Shew.

    _Enter_ Duke Rinaldo _with Attendants, at one door; States_,
        Randulpho, _and_ Gerrard, _at another: they kneel to the Duke,_
        _he accepts their obedience, and raises them up: they prefer_
        Gerrard _to the Duke, who entertains him: they seat the Duke_
        _in State. Enter_ Benvoglio _and_ Ferdinand: Benvoglio _kneels
        for justice_; Ferd. _seems to restrein him._ Benvog. _gives_
        _the Duke a paper; Duke reads, frowns on_ Gerr. _shews the
        paper to the States, they seem sorry, consult, cause the_
        _Guard to apprehend him; they go off with him. Then_ Rand.
        _and_ Benv. _seem to crave justice; Duke vows it, and_ exit
        _with his attendants._ Rand. Ben. _and_ Ferd. _confer. Enter to
        them_ Cornelia _with two servants; she seems to expostulate_,
        Rand. _in scorn, causeth her to be thrust out poorly._ Exit
        Rand. Benv. _beckons_ Ferd. _to him (with much seeming
        passion) swears him; then stamps with his foot. Enter_
        Dorothea _with a Cup, weeping, she delivers it to_ Ferd. _who
        with discontent_ exit; _and_ exeunt Benvoglio _and_ Dorothea.

                           _Enter_ Violanta.

    _Viol. Gerrard_ not come? nor _Dorothy_ return'd?
    What averse star rul'd my Nativity?
    The time to night has been as dilatory
    As languishing Consumptions. But till now
    I never durst say, my _Gerrard_ was unkind.
    Heaven grant all things go well; and nothing does,
    If he be ill, which I much fear: my dreams
    Have been portentous. I did think I saw
    My Love araid for battel with a beast,
    A hideous Monster, arm'd with teeth and claws,
    Grinning, and venemous, that sought to make
    Both us a prey: on's tail wa[s] lash'd in bloud
    _Law_: and his forehead I did plainly see
    Held Characters that spell'd _Authority_.
    This rent my slumbers; and my fearful soul
    Ran searching up and down my dismaid breast,
    To find a Port t'escape. Good faith, I am cold;
    But _Gerrard_'s love is colder: here I'll sit,
    And think my self away.

              _Enter_ Ferdinand _with a Cup and a Letter_.

    _Ferd._ The peace of Love
    Attend the sweet _Violanta_: Read,
    For the sad news I bring, I do not know;
    Only I am sworn to give you that, and this.

    _Viol._ Is it from _G[e]rrard_? gentle _Ferdinand_,
    How glad am I to see you thus well restor'd!
    In troth he never wrong'd you in his life,
    Nor I, but always held fair thoughts of you,
    Knew not my Fathers meaning, till of late;
    Could never have known it soon enough: for Sir,
    _Gerrard_'s, and my affection began
    In infancy: My Uncle brought him oft
    In long coats hither; you were such another;
    The little boy would kiss me, being a child,
    And say, he lov'd me; give me all his toys,
    Bracelets, Rings, Sweet-meats, all his Rosie-smiles:
    I then would stand, and stare upon his eyes,
    Play with his locks, and swear I lov'd him too;
    For sure, methought, he was a little Love,
    He woo'd so prettily in innocence,
    That then he warm'd my fancy; for I felt
    A glimmering beam of Love kindle my bloud,
    Both which, time since hath made a flame and floud.

    _Fer._ Oh gentle innocent! methinks it talks
    Like a child still, whose white simplicity
    Never arriv'd at sin. Forgive me, Lady,
    I have destroy'd _Gerrard_, and thee; rebell'd
    Against Heavens Ordinance; dis-pair'd two Doves,
    Made 'em sit mourning; slaughter'd Love, and cleft
    The heart of all integrity. This breast
    Was trusted with the secret of your vow
    By _Gerrard_, and reveal'd it to your Father.

    _Viol._ Hah!

    _Ferd._ Read, and curse me.

    _Viol._ Neither: I will never
    Nor Write, nor Read again.

    _Ferd._ My pennance be it.
    Reads. _Your Labyrinth is found, your Lust proclaim'd._

    _Viol._ Lust? Humh:
    My Mother sure felt none, when I was got.

    _Fer. I and the Law implacably offend[e]d._
    Gerrard's _imprison'd, and to dye_.

    _Viol._ Oh Heaven!

    _Ferd. And you to suffe[r] with reproach and scoffs_
    _A publick execution; I have sent you_
    _An Antidote 'gainst shame, poison; by him_
    _You have most wrong'd: give him your penitent tears._

    _Viol._ Humh: 'tis not truth.

    _Ferd. Drink, and farewel for ever:_
    _And though thy whoredom blemish thy whol[e] line,_
    _Prevent the Hangmans stroke, and die like mine._

    _Viol._ Oh woe is me for _Gerrard_: I have brought
    Confusion on the noblest Gentleman
    That ever truly lov'd. But we shall meet
    Where our condemners shall not, and enjoy
    A more refin'd affection than here;
    No Law, nor Father hinders marriage there
    'Twixt souls Divinely affi'd, as (sure) ours were:
    There we will multiply, and generate joyes
    Like fruitful Parents. Luckless _Ferdinand_,
    Where's the good old Gentlewoman, my Husbands Aunt?

    _Ferd._ Thrust from you Uncle [t]o all poverty.

    _Viol._ Alas the pi[t]y: reach me, Sir, the cup;
    I'll say my prayers, and take my Fathers Physick.

    _Ferd._ Oh villain that I was, I had forgot
    To spill the rest, and am unable now
    To stir to hinder her.

    _Viol._ What ail you, Sir?

    _Ferd._ Your Father is a monster, I a villain,
    This tongue has kill'd you, pardon, _Violant[a]_,
    Oh pardon, _Gerrard_; and for sacrifice,
    Accept my life, to expiate my fault.
    I have drunk up the poison.

    _Viol._ Thou art not so
    Uncharitable: a better fellow far,
    Thou'st left me halfe. Sure death is now a-dry,
    And calls for more bloud still to quench his thirst.
    I pledge thee _Ferdinand_, to _Gerrards_ health:
    Dear _Gerrard_, poor Aunt, and unfortunate friend,
    Ay me, that Love should breed true Lovers end.

    _Fer._ Stay Madam, stay; help hoa, for Heavens sake help;
    Improvident man, that good I did intend
    For satisfaction, saving of her life,
    My equal cruel Stars made me forget.

                 _Enter_ Angelina _with two Servants_.

    _Ang._ What spectacle of death assaults me? oh!

    _Viol._ M[y] dearest Mother, I am dead, I leave
    Father, and friends, and life, to follow Love.
    Good Mother, love my Child, that did no ill.
    Fie, how men lie, that say, death is a pain:
    Or has he chang'd his nature? like soft sleep
    He seizes me. Your blessing. Last, I crave,
    That I may rest by _Gerrard_ in his grave.

    _Ferd._ There lay me too: oh! noble Mistriss, I
    Have caus'd all this; and therefore justly dye.
    That key will open all.

    _Ang._ Oh viperous Father!
    For Heavens sake, bear 'em in: run for Physitians,
    And Medicines quickly: Heaven, thou shalt not have her
    Yet; 'tis too soon: Alas, I have no more,
    And taking her away, thou rob'st the poor.                [_Exeunt._
                                               Flourish.

              _Enter_ Duke, States, Randulpho, Benvoglio,
                      Gerrard, Executioner, Guard.

    _Duke._ The Law, as greedy as your red desire
    _Benvoglio_, hath cast this man: 'Tis pity
    So many excellent parts are swallow'd up
    In one foul wave. Is _Violanta_ sent for?
    Our Justice must not lop a branch, and let
    The body grow still.

    _Ben._ Sir, she will be here
    Alive or dead, I am sure.

    _[G]er._ How chearfully my countenance comments death!
    That which makes men seem horrid, I will wear
    Like to an Ornament. Oh _Violanta_!
    Might my life only satisfie the Law,
    How jocundly my soul would enter Heaven!
    Why shouldst thou dye? thou wither'st in thy bud,
    As I have seen a Rose, e'er it was blown.
    I do beseech your Grace, the Statute may
    (In this case made) be read: not that I hope
    T'extenuate my offence or penalty,
    But to see whether it lay hold on her.
    And since my death is more exemplary
    Than just, this publick Reading will advise
    Caution to others.

    _Duke._ Read it.

    _Ran._ Brother, does not
    Your soul groan under this severity?

                             Statute read.

    _A Statute provided in case of unequal Matches, Marriages against
    Parents consent, stealing of Heirs, Rapes, Prostitutions, and
    such like: That if any person meanly descended, or ignorant of
    his own Parentage, which implies as much, shall with a foul
    intent, unlawfully sollicite the Daughter of any Peer of the
    Dukedom, he shall for the same offence forfeit his right hand:
    but if he further prostitute her to his Lust, he shall first
    have his right hand cut off, and then suffer death by the common
    Executioner. After whom, the Lady so offending, shall likewise
    the next day, in the same manner, dye for the Fact._

    _Ger._ This Statute has more cruelty than sense:
    I see no ray of Mercy. Must the Lady
    Suffer death too? suppose she were inforc'd,
    By some confederates born away, and ravish'd;
    Is she not guiltless?

    _Duke._ Yes, if it be prov'd.

    _Ger._ This case is so: I ravish'd _Violanta_.

    _State._ Who ever knew a Rape produce a child?

    _Ben._ Pish, these are idle. Will your grace command
    The Executioner proceed?

    _Duke._ Your Office.

    _Ger._ Farewell to thy inticing vanity,
    Thou round gilt box, that dost deceive man's eye:
    The wise man knows, when open thou art broke,
    The treasure thou includ'st, is dust and smoke,
    Even thus, I cast thee by. My Lords, the Law
    Is but the great mans mule, he rides on it,
    And tramples poorer men under his feet;
    Yet when they come to knock at yon bright Gate,
    Ones Rags shall enter, 'fore the others State.
    Peace to ye all: here, sirrah, strike: this hand
    Hath _Violanta_ kiss'd a thousand times;
    It smells sweet ever since: this was the hand
    Plighted my faith to her: do not think thou canst
    Cut that in sunder with my hand. My Lord,
    As free from speck as this arm is, my heart
    Is of foul Lust, and every vein glides here
    As full of truth. Why does thy hand shake so?
    'Tis mine must be cut off, and that is firm;
    For it was ever constant.

                           _Enter_ Cornelia.

    _Cor._ Hold; your Sentence
    Unjustly is pronounced, my Lord: this blow
    Cuts your hand off; for his is none of yours:
    But _Violanta_'s given in Holy marriage
    Before she was delivered, consummated
    With the free Will of her Mother, by her Confessor,
    In Lord _Benvoglio_'s house.

    _Ger._ Alas good Aunt,
    That helps us nothing; else I had reveal'd it.

    _Duke._ What woman's this?

    _Ben._ A base confederate
    In this proceeding, kept of alms long time
    By him; who now expos'd to misery,
    Talks thus distractedly. Attach her, Guard.

    _Ran._ Your cruelty (brother) will have end.

    _Cor._ You'd best
    Let them attach my tongue.

    _Duke._ Good woman, peace:
    For were this truth, it doth not help thy Nephew;
    The Law's infring'd by their disparity,
    That forfeits both their lives.

    _Cor._ Sir, with your pardon,
    Had your Grace ever children?

    _Duke._ Thou hast put
    A question, whose sharp point toucheth my heart:
    I had two little Sons, twins, who were both
    (With my good Dutchess) slain, as I did hear;
    At that time when my Dukedom was surpriz'd.

    _Cor._ I have heard many say (my gracious Lord)
    That I was wondrous like her.

    _All._ Ha?

    _Duke._ By all mans joy, it is _Cornelia_,
    My dearest wife.

    _Cor._ To ratifie me her,
    Come down, _Alphonso_, one of those two twins,
    And take thy Fathers blessing: thou hast broke
    No Law, thy birth being above thy wives:
    _Ascanio_ is the other, nam'd _Fernando_,
    Who by remote means, to my Lord _Benvoglio_
    I got preferr'd; and in poor habits clad,
    (You fled, and th' innovation laid again)
    I wrought my self into _Randulpho_'s service,
    With my eldest boy; yet never durst reveal
    What they and I were, no, not to themselves,
    Until the Tyrants death.

    _Duke._ My joy has fill'd me
    Like a full-winded sail: I cannot speak.

    _Ger._ Fetch _Violanta_ and my brother.

    _Ben._ Run,
    Run like a spout, you rogue: a ---- o' poison,
    That little whore I trusted, will betray me.
    Stay, hangman, I have work for you; there's Gold;
    Cut off my head, or hang me presently.

                             _Soft Musick._

    _Enter_ Angelina _with the bodies of_ Ferdinand _and_ Violanta _on
        a bier_; Dorothea _carrying the Cup and Letter, which she
        gives to the Duke: he reads, seems sorrowful; shews it to_
        Cornelia _and_ Gerrard: _they lament over the bier_. Randulpho
        _and_ Benvoglio _seem fearful, and seem to report to_
        Angelina _and_ Dorothea, _what hath passed before_.

    _Ran._ This is your rashness, brother.

    _Duke._ Oh joy, thou wert too great to last;
    This was a cruel turning to our hopes,
    Unnatural Father: poor _Ascanio_.

    _Ger._ Oh mother! let me be _Gerrard_ again,
    And follow _Violanta_.

    _Cor._ Oh my Son--

    _Duke._ Your lives yet, bloudy men shall answer this.

    _Dor._ I must not see 'em longer grieve. My Lord,
    Be comforted; let sadness generally
    Forsake each eye and bosom; they both live:
    For poison, I infus'd meer _Opium_;
    Holding compulsive perjury less sin
    Than such a loathed murther would have bin.

    _All._ Oh blessed Ma[iden].

    _Dor._ Musick, gently creep
    Into their ears, and fright hence lazy sleep.
    _Morpheus_, command thy servant sleep
    In leaden chains no longer keep
    This Prince and Lady: Rise, wake, rise,
    And round about convey your eyes:
    Rise Prince, go greet thy Father and thy Mother;
    Rise thou, t'imbrace thy Husband and thy Brother.

    _Duke Cor._ Son, Daughter.

    _Ferd._ Father, Mother, Brother.

    _Ger._ Wife.

    _Viol._ Are we not all in Heaven?

    _Ger._ Faith, very near it.

    _Ferd._ How can this be?

    _Duke._ Hear it.

    _Dor._ If I had serv'd you right, I should have seen
    Your old pate off, e'r I had reveald.

    _Ben._ Oh wench!
    Oh honest wench! if my wife die, I'll marry thee:
    There's my reward.

    _Ferd._ 'Tis true.

    _Duke._ 'Tis very strange.

    _Ger._ Why kneel you honest Master?

    _Ferd._ My good Lord.

    _Ger._ Dear Mother.

    _Duke._ Rise, rise, all are friends: I owe ye
    for all their boards: And wench, take thou the man
    Whose life thou sav'dst; less cannot pay the merit.
    How shall I part my kiss? I cannot: Let
    One generally therefore joyn our cheeks.
    A pen of Iron, and a leaf of Brass,
    To keep this Story to Eternity:
    And a _Promethean Wit_. Oh sacred Love,
    Nor chance, nor death can thy firm truth remove.          [_Exeunt._

    _King._ Now _Isabella_.                                 [_Flourish._

    _Isab._ This can true Love do.
    I joy they all so happily are pleas'd:
    The Ladies and the Brothers must triumph.

    _King._ They do:
    For _Cupid_ scorns but t' have his triumph too.         [_Flourish._

                             _The_ TRIUMPH.

    _Enter divers Musicians, then certain Singers bearing Bannerets_
        _inscribed, Truth, Loyalty, Patience, Concord: Next_ Gerrard
        _and_ Ferdinand _with Garlands of Roses: Then_ Violanta,
        _Last, a Chariot drawn by two_ Cupids, _and a_ Cupid _sitting
        in it_.                                               [Flourish.

                           _Enter_ PROLOGUE.

    _Love, and the strength of fair affection_
    _(Most royal Sir) what long seem'd lost, have won_
    _Their perfect ends, and crown'd those constant hearts_
    _With lasting Triumph, whose most virtuous parts,_
    _Worthy desires, and love, shall never end._
    _Now turn we round the Scæne, and (Great Sir) lend_
    _A sad and serious eye to this of Death,_
    _This black and dismal Triumph; where man's breath,_
    _Desert, and guilty bloud ascend the Stage,_
    _And view the Tyrant, ruind in his rage._                     [Exit.

                                                              [Flourish.

                _Enter_ L'avall, Gabriella _and_ Maria.

    _Gab._ No, good my Lord, I am not now to find
    Your long neglect of me; All those affections
    You came first clad in to my love, like Summer,
    Lusty and full of life: all those desires
    That like the painted Spring bloom'd round about ye,
    Giving the happy promise of an Harvest,
    How have I seen drop off, and fall forgotten!
    With the least lustre of anothers beauty,
    How oft (forgetful Lord) have I been blast[e]d!
    Was I so eas'ly won? or did this body
    Yield to your false embraces with less labour
    Then if you had carried some strong Town?

    _Lav._ Good _Gabriella_.

    _Gab._ Could all your subtilties and sighs betray me.
    The vows ye shook me with, the tears ye drown'd me,
    Till I came fairly off with honor'd Marriage?
    Oh fie, my Lord.

    _Lav._ Prethee good _Gabriella_.

    _Gab._ Would I had never known ye, nor your honors,
    They are stuck too full of griefs: oh happy women,
    That plant your Love in equal honest bosoms,
    Whose sweet desires like Roses set together,
    Make one another happy in their blushes,
    Growing and dying without sense of greatness,
    To which I am a slave! [and] that blest Sacrament
    That daily makes millions of happy mothers, link'd me
    To this man's Lust alone, there left me.
    I dare not say I am his wife, 'tis dangerous:
    His Love, I cannot say: alas, how many?

    _Lav._ You grow too warm; pray [ye be] content, you best know,
    The times necessity, and how our marriage
    Being so much unequal to mine honor,
    While the Duke lives, I standing high in favour;
    And whilst I keep that safe, next to the Dukedom,
    Must not be known, without my utter ruine.
    Have patience for a while, and do but dream wench,
    The glory of a Dutchess. How she tires me!
    How dull and leaden is my appetite
    To that stale beauty now! oh, I could curse
    And crucifie my self for childish doating
    Upon a face that feeds not with fresh Figures
    Every fresh hour: she is now a surfet to me.

                           _Enter_ Gentille.

    Who's that? _Gentille?_ I charge ye, no acquaintance
    You nor your Maid with him, nor no discourse
    Till times are riper.

    _Gent._ Fie, my Noble Lord,
    Can you be now a stranger to the Court,
    When your most virtuous Bride, the beauteous _Hellena_
    Stands ready like a Star to gild your happiness,
    When _Hymens_ lusty fires are now a lighting,
    And all the Flower of _Anjou_?

    _Lav._ Some few trifles,
    For matter of adornment, have a little
    Made me so slow, _Gentille_, which now in readiness,
    I am for Court immediately.

    _Gent._ Take heed, Sir,
    This is no time for trifling, nor she no Lady
    To be now entertain'd with toys: 'twill cost ye--

    _Lav._ Y'are an old Cock, _Gentille_.

    _Gent._ By your Lordships favour.

    _Lav._ Prethee away; 'twill lose time.

    _Gent._ Oh my Lord,
    Pardon me that by all means.

    _Lav._ We have business
    A-foot man, of more moment.

    _Gent._ Then my manners?
    I know none, nor I seek none.

    _Lav._ Take to morrow.

    _Gent._ Even now, by your Lordships leave. Excellent Beauty.
    My service here I ever dedicate,
    In honor of my best friend, your dead Father,
    To you his living virtue, and wish heartily,
    That firm affection that made us two happy,
    May take as deep undying root, and flourish
    Betwixt my Daughter _Casta_, and your goodness,
    Who shall be still your servant.

    _Gab._ I much thank ye.

    _Lav._ ---- [o'] this dreaming puppy. Will ye go, Sir?

    _Gent._ A little more, Good Lord.

    _Lav._ Not now, by----
    Come, I must use ye.

    _Gent._ Goodness dwell still with you.  [_Exeunt Gentill and Laval._

    _Gab._ The sight of this old Gentleman, _Maria_,
    Pulls to my mine eyes again the living Picture
    Of _Perolot_ his virtuous Son, my first Love,
    That dy'd at _Orleance_.

    _Mar._ You have felt both fortunes,
    And in extreams, poor Lady; for young _Perolot_,
    Being every way unable to maintain you,
    Durst not make known his love to Friend or Father:
    My Lord _Lavall_, being powerful, and you poor,
    Will not acknowledge you.

    _Gab._ No more: Let's in wench:
    There let my Lute speak my Laments, they have t[ir]ed me. [_Exeunt._

                         _Enter two Courtiers._

    _1 Court._ I grant, the Duke is wondrous provident
    In his now planting for succession,
    I know his care as honourable in the choice too.
    _Marines_ fair virtuous daughter; but what's all this?
    To what end excellent arrives this travel,
    When he that bears the main roof is so rotten?

    _2 Court._ You have hit it now indeed: For if Fame lye not
    He is untemperate.

    _1 Court._ You express him poorly,
    Too gentle Sir: the most deboist and barbarous;
    Believe it, the most void of all humanity,
    Howe'r his cunning, cloak it to his Uncle,
    And those his pride depends upon.

    _[2] Court._ I have heard too,
    Given excessively to drink.

    _1 Court._ Most certain,
    And in that drink most dangerous: I speak these things
    To one I know loves truth, and dares not wrong her.

    _2 Court._ You may speak on.

    _1 Court._ Uncertain as the Sea, Sir,
    Proud and deceitful as his sins Great Master;
    His appetite to Women (for there he carries
    His main Sail spread) so boundles, and abominably,
    That but to have her name by that tongue spoken,
    Poisons the virtue of the purest Virgin.

    _2 Cour._ I am sorry for young _Gabriella_ then,
    A Maid reputed, ever of fair carriage,
    For he has been noted visiting.

    _1 Court._ She is gone then,
    Or any else, that promises, or power,
    Gifts, or his guilful vows can work upon,
    But these are but poor parcels.

    _2 Court._ 'Tis great pity.

    _1 Court._ Nor want these sins a chief Saint to befriend 'em,
    The Devil follows him; and for a truth, Sir,
    Appears in visible figure often to him,
    At which time he's possest with sudden trances,
    Cold deadly sweats, and griping of the conscience,
    Tormented strangely, as they say.

    _2 Court._ Heaven turn him:
    This marriage-day mayst thou well curse, fair _Hellen_.
    But let's go view the ceremony.

    _1 Court._ I'll walk with you.                            [_Exeunt._

                                                              [_Musick._

    _Enter_ Gabriella, _and_ Maria _above_. _And_ Laval, _Bride,
        States in solemnity as to marriage; and pass over_; viz.
        Duke, Marine, Longaville.

    _Mar._ I hear 'em come.

    _Gab._ Would I might never hear more.

    _Mar._ I told you still: but you were so incredulous.
    See, there they kiss.

    _Gab._ Adders be your embraces.
    The poison of a rotten heart, oh _Hellen_!
    Blast thee as I have been; just such a flattery,
    With that same cunning face, that smile upon't,
    Oh mark it _Marie_, mark it seriously,
    That Master smile caught me.

    _Mar._ There's the old Duke, and
    _Marine_ her Father.

    _Gab._ Oh!

    _Mar._ There _Longaville_--
    The Ladies now.

    _Gab._ Oh, [I] am murder'd, _Marie_.
    Beast, most inconstant beast.

    _Mar._ There.

    _Gab._ There I am not;
    No more I am not there: Hear me, oh Heaven!
    And all you powers of Justice bow down to me;
    But you of pity dye. I am abus'd,
    She that depended on your Providence,
    She is abus'd: your honor is abus'd.
    That noble piece ye made, and call'd it man,
    Is turn'd to Devil: all the world's abus'd:
    Give me a womans Will, provok'd to mischief,
    A two-edg'd heart; my suffering thoughts to wild-fires,
    And my embraces to a timeless grave turn.

    _Mar._ Here I'll step in, for 'tis an act of merit.

    _Gab._ I am too big to utter more.

    _Mar._ Take time then.                                    [_Exeunt._

                     _Enter_ Gentille _and_ Casta.

    _Gent._ This solitary life at home undoes thee,
    Obscures thy beauty first, which should prefer thee;
    Next fills thee full of sad thoughts, which thy years
    Must not arrive at yet, they choak thy sweetness;
    Follow the time, my Girl, and it will bring thee
    Even to the fellowship of the noblest women,
    _Hellen_ her self, to whom I would prefer thee,
    And under whom this poor and private carriage,
    Which I am only able yet to reach at,
    Being cast off, and all thy sweets at lustre,
    Will take thee as a fair friend, and prefer thee.

    _Casta._ Good Sir, be not so cruel as to seek
    To kill that sweet content y'have bred me to:
    Have I not here enough to thank Heaven for?
    The free air uncorrupted with new flattery.
    The water that I touch, unbrib'd with odours
    To make me sweet to others: the pure fire
    Not smothered up, and choak'd with lustful incense
    To make my bloud sweat; but burning clear and high,
    Tells me my mind must flame up so to Heaven.
    What should I do at Court, wear rich apparel?
    Methinks these are as warm: And for your state, Sir,
    Wealthy enough; Is it you would have me proud,
    And like a Pageant, stuck up for amazements?
    Teach not your child to tread that path, for fear (Sir)
    Your dry bones after death, groan in your grave
    The miseries that follow.

    _Gent._ Excellent _Casta_.

    _Casta._ When shall I pray again? (a Courtier)
    Or when I do, to what God? what new body
    And new face must I make me, with new manners?
    For I must be no more my self. Whose Mistriss
    Must I be first? with whose sin-offering season'd?
    And when I am grown so great and glorious
    With prostitution of my burning beauties,
    That great Lords kneel, and Princes beg for favours,
    Do you think I'll be your Daughter, a poor Gentlemans,
    Or know you for my father?

                            _Enter_ Lavall.

    _Gent._ My best _Casta_.
    Oh my most virtuous child! Heaven reigns within thee;
    Take thine own choice, sweet child, and live a Saint still.
    The Lord _Lavall_, stand by wench.

    _Lav. Gabriella_,
    She cannot, nor she dares not make it known,
    My greatness crushes her, when e'er she offers:
    Why should I fear her then?

    _Gent._ Come, let's pass on wench.

    _Lav. Gentille_, come hither: who's that Gentlewoman?

    _Gent._ A child of mine, Sir, who observing custome,
    Is going to the Monastery to her Prayers.

    _Lav._ A fair one, a most sweet one; fitter far
    To beautifie a Court, than make a Votarist.
    Go on, fair Beauty, and in your Orizons
    Remember me: will ye, fair sweet?

    _Casta._ Most humbly.                                     [_Exeunt._

    _Lav._ An admirable Beauty: how it fires me!

                           _Enter a Spirit._

    But she's too full of grace, and I too wicked.
    I feel my wonted fit: Defend me, goodness.
    Oh! it grows colder still, and stiffer on me,
    My hair stands up, my sinews shake and shrink;
    Help me good Heaven, and good thoughts dwell within me.
    Oh get thee gone, thou evil evil spirit,
    Haunt me no more, I charge thee.

    _Spir._ Yes _Lavall_:
    Thou art my vassal, and the slave to mischief,
    I blast thee with new sin: pursue thy pleasure;
    _Casta_ is rare and sweet, a blowing Beauty;
    Set thy desires a fire, and never quench 'em
    Till thou enjoy'st her; make her all thy Heaven,
    And all thy joy, for she is all true happiness:
    Thou art powerful, use command; if that prevail not,
    Force her: I'll be thy friend.

    _Lav._ Oh help me, help me.

    _Spir._ Her virtue, like a spell, sinks me to darkness.     [_Exit._

                     _Enter_ Gentille _and_ Casta.

    _Gent._ He's here still. How is't, noble Lord? me thinks, Sir,
    You look a little wildly. Is it that way?
    Is't her you stare on so? I have spy'd your fire, Sir,
    Bu[t] dare not stay the flaming. Come.

    _Lav._ Sweet [c]reature,
    Excellent Beauty, do me but the happiness
    To be your humblest servant. Oh fair eyes,
    Oh blessed, Blessed Sweetness, Divine Virgin!

    _Casta._ Oh good my Lord, retire into your honor:
    You're spoken good and virtuous, plac'd [at] Helme
    To govern others from mischances: from example
    Of such fair Chronicles as great ones are,
    We do, or sure we should direct our lives.
    I know y'are full of worth, a school of virtue
    Daily instructing us that live below ye,
    I make no doubt, dwells there.

    _Lav._ I cannot answer,
    She has struck me dumb with wonder.

    _Casta._ Goodness guide ye.                               [_Exeunt._

    _Lav._ She's gone, and with her all [l]ight, and has left me
    Dark as my black desires. Oh devil lust,
    How dost thou hug my bloud, and whisper to me,
    There is no day again, no time, no living,
    Without this lusty Beauty break upon me!
    Let me collect my self, I strive like billows,
    Beaten against a rock, and fall a fool still.
    I must enjoy her, and I will: from this hour
    My thoughts, and all my bus'ness shall be nothing.

                             _Enter_ Maria.

    My eating, and my sleeping, but her beauty,
    And how to work it.

    _Mar._ Health to my Lord _Lavall_.
    Nay good Sir, do not turn with such displeasure;
    I come not to afflict your new born pleasures;
    My honour'd Mistriss, neither let that vex ye,
    For nothing is intended, but safe to you.

    _Lav._ What of your Mistriss? I am full of bus'ness.

    _Mar._ I will be short, my Lord; she, loving Lady,
    Considering the unequal tie between ye,
    And how your ruine with the Duke lay on it,
    As also the most noble match now made,
    By me sends back all links of marriage,
    All Holy Vows, and Rights of Ceremony,
    All promises, oaths, tears, and all such pawns
    You left in hostage: only her love she cannot,
    For that still follows ye, but not to hurt ye;
    And still beholds ye Sir, but not to shame ye:
    In recompence of which, this is her suit, Sir,
    Her poor and last petition, but to grant her,
    When weary nights have cloyed ye up with kisses,
    (As such must come) the honor of a Mistriss,
    The honor but to let her see those eyes,
    (Those eyes she doats on, more than gods do goodness)
    And but to kiss you only: with this prayer,
    (a prayer only to awake your pity)
    And on her knees she made it, that this night
    You'ld bless her with your company at supper.

    _Lav._ I like this well, and now I think on't better,
    I'll make a present use from this occasion.

    _Mar._ Nay, good my Lord, be not so cruel to her
    Because she has been yours.

    _Lav._ And to mine own end
    A rare way I will work.

    _Mar._ Can love for ever,
    The Love of her (my Lord) so perish in ye?
    As ye desire in your desires to prosper.
    What gallant under Heaven, but _Anjou_'s Heir then
    Can brag so fair a Wife, and sweet a Mistriss?
    Good noble Lord.

    _Lav._ Ye mis-apply me, _Mary_,
    Nor do I want true pity to your Lady:
    Pity and love tell me, too much I have wrong'd her
    To dare to see her more: yet if her sweetness
    Can entertain a Mediation,
    And it must be a great one that can cure me;
    My love again, as far as honor bids me,
    My service and my self--

    _Mar._ That's nobly spoken.

    _Lav._ Shall hourly see her; want shall never know her;
    Nor where she has bestow'd her love, repent her.

    _Mar._ Now whither drives he?

    _Lav._ I have heard _Maria_,
    That no two women in the world more lov'd,
    Then thy good Mistriss, and _Gentille_'s fair Daughter.

    _Mar._ What may this mean? you have heard a truth, my Lord:
    But since the secret Love betwixt you two,
    My Mistriss durst not entertain such friendship;
    _Casta_ is quick, and of a piercing judgement,
    And quickly will find out a flaw.

    _Lav._ Hold _Marie_:
    Shrink not, 'tis good gold, wench: prepare a Banquet,
    And get that _Casta_ thither; for she's a creature
    So full of forcible Divine perswasion,
    And so unwearied ever with good offic[e],
    And she shall cure my ill cause to my Mistriss,
    And make all errors up.

    _Mar._ I'll doe my best, Sir:
    But she's too fearful, coy, and scrupulous,
    To leave her Fathers house so late; and bashful
    At any mans appearance, that I fear, Sir;
    'Twill prove impossible.

    _Lav._ There's more gold, _Marie_,
    And fain thy Mistriss wondrous sick to death, wench.

    _Mar._ I have ye in the wind now, and I'll pay ye.

    _Lav._ She cannot chuse but come; 'tis charity,
    The chief of her profession: undertake this,
    And I am there at night; if not, I leave ye.

    _Mar._ I will not loose this offer, though it fall out
    Clean cross to that we cast, I'll undertake it,
    I will, my Lord; she shall be there.

    _Lav._ By ----?

    _Mar._ By ---- she shall.

    _Lav._ Let it be something late then.
    For being seen, now force or favour wins her.
    My spirits are grown dull, strong wine, and store,
    Shall set 'em up again, and make me fit
    To draw home at the enterprize I aim at.                    [_Exit._

    _Ma._ Go thy wa[ies] false Lord, if thou hold'st, thou pay'st
    The price of all thy lusts. Thou shalt be there
    Thou modest Maid, if I have any working,
    And yet thy honor safe; for which this thief
    I know has set this meeting: but I'll watch him.

                           _Enter_ Per[o]lot.

    _Per. Maria._

    _Mar._ Are mine eyes mine own? or bless me,
    Am I deluded with a flying shadow?

    _Per._ Why do you start so from me?

    _Mar._ It speaks sensibly,
    And shews a living body: yet I am fearful.

    _Per._ Give me your hand, good _Maria_.

    _Mar._ He feels warm too.

    _Per._ And next your [l]ips.

    _Mar._ He kisses perfectly.
    Nay, and the Devil be n[o] worse: you are _Perolot_.

    _Per._ I was, and sure I should be: Can a small distance,
    And ten short moneths take from your memory
    The figure of your friend, that you stand wondring?
    Be not amaz'd, I am the self-same _Per[o]lot_,
    Living, and well; Son to _Gentille_, and Brother
    To virtuous _Casta_; to your beauteous Mistriss,
    The long since poor betroth'd, and still vow'd servant.

    _Mar._ Nay, sure he lives. My Lord _Lavall_, your Master,
    Brought news long since to your much mourning Mistriss,
    Ye dy'd at _Orleance_; bound her with an oath too,
    To keep it secret from your aged Father,
    Lest it should rack his heart.

    _Per._ A pretty secret
    To try my Mistriss Love, and make my welcome
    From travel of more worth; from whence, Heaven be thanked,
    My business for the Duke dispatch'd to th' purpose,
    And all my money spent, I am come home, wench.
    How does my Mistriss? for I have not yet seen
    Any, nor will I, till I do her service.

    _Mar._ But did the Lord _Laval_ know of your love, Sir, before he
    went?

    _Per._ Yes, by much more force he got it,
    But none else knew; upon his promise too
    And honor to conceal it faithfully
    Till my return; to further which, he told me,
    My business being ended, from the Duke
    He would procure a pension for my service,
    Able to make my Mistriss a fit Husband.

    _Mar._ But are you sure of this?

    _Per._ Sure as my sight, wench.

    _Mar._ Then is your Lord a base dissembling villain,
    A Devil Lord, the damn'd Lord of all lewdness,
    And has betraid ye, and undone my Mistriss,
    My poor sweet Mistriss: oh that leacher Lord,
    Who, poor soul, since was married.

    _Per._ To whom, _Maria_?

    _Mar._ To that unlucky Lord, a ---- upon him;
    Whose hot horse-appetite being allaid once
    With her chaste joyes, married again, scarce cool'd,
    The Torches yet not out the yellow _Hymen_
    Lighted about the bed, the Songs yet sounding,
    _Marine_'s young noble Daughter _Helena_,
    Whose mischief stands at door next. Oh that recreant!

    _Per._ Oh villain! Oh most unmanly falshood!
    Nay then I see, my Letters were betraid too.
    Oh, I am full of this, great with his mischiefs,
    Loaden and burst: Come, lead me to my Lady.

    _Mar._ I cannot, Sir, _Lavall_ keeps her conceal'd,
    Besides, her griefs are such, she will see no man.

    _Per._ I must, and will go to her: I will see her:
    There be my friend, or this shall be thy furthest.

    _Mar._ Hold, and I'll help thee: but first ye shall swear to me,
    As you are true and gentle, as ye hate
    This beastly and base Lord, where I shall place ye,
    (Which shall be within sight) till I discharge ye,
    What-e'er you see or hear, to make no motion.

    _Per._ I do by ----

    _Mar._ Stay here about the house then,
    Till it be later; yet the time's not perfect:
    There at the back door I'll attend you truly.

    _Per._ Oh monstrous, monstrous beastly villain.             [_Exit._

    _Mar._ How cross this falls, and from all expectation!
    And what the end shall be, Heaven only yet knows:
    Only I wish, and hope. But I forget still,
    _Casta_ must be the bait, or all miscarries.              [_Exeunt._

           _Enter_ Gentille _with a Torch_, Shalloon _above_.

    _Gent._ Holla, _Shaloon_.

    _Shal._ Who's there?

    _Gent._ A word from the Duke, Sir.

    _Shal._ Your pleasure.

    _Gent._ Tell your Lord he must to Court strait.

    _Shal._ He is ill at ease: and prays he may be pardon'd
    The occasions of this night.

    _Gent._ Belike he is drunk then:
    He must away; the Duke and his fair Lady,
    The beauteous _Helena_, are now at _Cent_.
    Of whom she has such fortune in her carding,
    The Duke has lost a thousand Crowns, and swears,
    He will not go to bed, till by _Lavall_
    The Tide of loss be turn'd again. Awake him,
    For 'tis the pleasure of the Duke he must rise.

    _Sha._ Having so strict command (Sir) to the contrary,
    I dare not do it: I beseech your pardon.

    _Gent._ Are you sure he is there?

    _Sha._ Yes.

    _Gen._ And asleep?

    _Sha._ I think so.

    _Gen._ And are you sure you will not tell him, _Shalon_?

    _Sha._ Yes, very sure.

    _Gen._ Then I am sure, I will.
    Open, or I must force.

    _Sha._ Pray ye stay, he is not,
    Nor will not be this night. You may excuse it.

    _Gent._ I knew he was gone about some womans labour.
    As good a neighbor, though I say it, and as comfortable:
    Many such more we need _Shaloon_. Alas, poor Lady,
    Thou art like to lie cross-legg'd to night. Good Monsieur,
    I will excuse your Master for this once, Sir,
    Because sometimes I have lov'd a wench my self too.

    _Sha._ 'Tis a good hearing, Sir.

    _Gent._ But for your lye, _Shaloon_,
    If I had you here, it should be no good hearing.
    For your pate I would pummel.

    _Sha._ A fair good night, Sir.

    _Gent._ Good night, thou noble Knight, Sir _Pandarus_.
    My heart is cold o'th' suddain, and a strange dulness
    Possesses all my body: thy Will be done Heaven.             [_Exit._

       _Enter_ Gabriella _and_ Casta: _and_ Maria _with a Taper_.

    _Casta._ 'Faith Friend, I was even going to my bed,
    When your Maid told me of your sudden sickness:
    But from my grave (so truly I love you)
    I think your name would raise me: ye look ill
    Since last I saw ye, much decay'd in colour:
    Yet I thank Heaven, I find no such great danger
    As your Maid frighted me withal: take courage
    And give your sickness course: some grief you have got
    That feeds within upon your tender spirits,
    And wanting open way to vent it self,
    Murders your mind, and choaks up all your sweetness.

    _Gab._ It was my Maids fault; worthy friend, to trouble ye,
    So late, upon so light a cause: yet since I have ye
    Oh my dear _Casta_.

    _Casta._ Out with it, God's name.

    _Gab._ The Closset of my heart, I will lock here, wench,

                                                 [Laval _knocks within_.

    And things shall make ye tremble. Who's that knocks there?

    _Mar._ 'Tis _Lavall_.

    _Gab._ Sit you still. Let him in.
    I am resolv'd, and all you wronged women,
    You noble spirits, that as I have suffer'd
    Under this glorious beast-insulting man,
    Lend me your causes, then your cruelties,
    For I must put on madness above women.

    _Cast._ Why do you look so ghastly?

    _Gab._ Peace; no harm, Deer.

                            _Enter_ Lavall.

    _Lav._ There, take my cloak and sword: Where is this Banquet?

    _Mar._ In the next room.

    _Casta._ How came he here? Heaven bless me.

    _Lav._ Give me some Wine wench; fill it full, and sprightly.

    _Gab._ Sit still, and be not fearful.

    _Lav._ Till my veins swell,
    And my strong sinews stretch like that brave _Centaur_,
    That at the Table snatch'd the Bride away
    In spight of _Hercules_.

    _Casta._ I am betraid.

    _Lav._ Nay, start not Lady; 'tis for you that I come,
    And for your beauty: 'tis for you, _Lavall_
    Honors this night; to you, the sacred shrine
    I humbly bow, offering my vows and prayers;
    To you I live.

    _Gab._ In with the powder quickly:
    So, that and the Wine will rock ye.

    [_Lav._ Here, to the health]
    Of the most beauteous and divine, fair _Casta_,
    The star of sweetness.

    _Gab._ Fear him not, I'll die first.
    And who shall pledge ye?

    _Lav._ Thou shalt, thou tann'd Gipsey:
    And worship to that brightness give, cold _Tartar_.
    By ---- ye shall not stir; ye are my Mistris,
    The glory of my love, the great adventure,
    The Mistris of my heart, and she my whore.

    _Gab._ Thou ly'st, base, beastly Lord; drunker then anger,
    Thou sowsed Lord, got by a surfeit, thou lyest basely.
    Nay, stir not: I dare tell thee so. Sit you still.
    If I be whore, it is in marrying thee,
    That art so absolute and full a villain,
    No Sacrament can save that piece tied to thee.
    How often hast thou woo'd in those flatteries,
    Almost those very words, my constancie?
    What goddess have I not been, or what goodness
    What star that is of any name in Heaven,
    Or brightness? which of all the virtues
    (But drunkenness, and drabbing, thy two morals)
    Have not I reach'd to? what Spring was ever sweeter?
    What _Scythian_ snow so white? what crystal chaster?
    Is not thy new wife now the same too? Hang thee,
    Base Bigamist, thou honor of ill women.

    _Casta._ How's this? O! Heaven defend me.

    _Gab._ Thou salt-itch,
    For whom no cure but ever burning brimstone
    Can be imagin'd.

    _Lav._ Ha, ha, ha.

    _Gab._ Dost thou laugh, thou breaker
    Of all law, all religion, of all faith
    Thou Soule contemner?

    _Lav._ Peace, thou paltry woman:
    And sit by me, Sweet.

    _Gab._ By the Devil?

    _Lav._ Come,
    And lull me with delights.

    _Gab._ It works amain now.

    _Lav._ Give me such kisses as the Queen of shadows
    Gave to the sleeping boy she stole on _Latmus_;
    Look round about in snakie wreathes close folded,
    Those rosie arms about my neck, O! _Venus_.

    _Gab._ Fear not, I say.

    _Lav._ Thou admirable sweetness,
    Distill thy blessings like those silver drops,
    That falling on fair grounds, rise all in roses:
    Shoot me a thousand darts from those fair eyes,
    And through my heart transfix 'em all, I'll stand 'em.
    Send me a thousand smiles, and presently
    I'll catch 'em in mine eyes, and by Love's power
    Turn 'em to _Cupids_ all, and fling 'em on thee,
    How high she looks, and heavenly! More wine for me.

    _Ga._ Give him more wine, and good friend be not fearful.

    _Lav._ Here on my knee, thou Goddess of delights,
    This lustie grape I offer to thy Beauties;
    See how it leaps to view that perfect redness
    That dwels upon thy lips: now, how it blushes
    To be outblush'd. Oh! let me feed my fancie,
    And as I hold the purple god in one hand
    Dancing about the bri[m] and proudly swelling,
    Deck'd in the pride of nature young, and blowing;
    So let me take fair _Semele_ in the other,
    And sing the loves of gods, then drink, their Nectar's
    Not yet desir'd.

    _Casta._ Oh!

    _Lav._ Then like lustie _Tarquin_
    Turn'd into flames with _Lucrece_ coy denyals,
    His blood and spirit equally ambitious,
    I force thee for my own.

    _Casta._ O help me Justice:
    Help me, my Chastitie.

    _Lav._ Now I am bravely quarried.                  [_Perolot above._

    _Per._ 'Tis my Sister.

    _Gab._ No, bawdy slave, no Treacher, she is not carried.

    _Per._ She's loose again, and gone. I'll keep my place still.

    _Mar._ Now it works bravely: stand, he cannot hurt ye.

    _Lav._ O my sweet Love, my life.      [_He falls downe, and sleeps._

    _Mar._ He sinks.

    _Lav._ My blessing.

    _Mar._ So, now he is safe a while.

    _Gab._ Lock all the doors, wench,
    Then for my wrongs.

    _Per._ Now I'll appear to know all.

    _Gab._ Be quick, quick, good _Marie_, sure and sudden.

    _Per._ Stay, I must in first.

    _Gab._ O' my conscience!
    It is young _Perol[o]t_: Oh my stung conscience!
    It is my first and noblest Love.

    _Mar._ Leave wondring,
    And recollect your self: the man is living,
    Equally wrong'd as you, and by that Devil.

    _Per._ 'Tis most true, Lady: your unhappy fortune
    I grieve for as mine own, your fault forgive too,
    If it be one. This is no time for kisses:
    I have heard all, and known all, which mine ears
    Are crack'd apieces with, and my heart perish'd.
    I saw him in your chamber, saw his fury.
    And am afire till I have found his heart out.
    What do you mean to do? for I'll make one.

    _Gab._ To make his death more horrid (for he shall dye).

    _Per._ He m[u]st, he must.

    _Gab._ We'll watch him till he wakes,
    Then bind him, and then torture him.

    _Per._ 'Tis nothing.
    No, take him dead drunk now without repentance,
    His leachery inseam'd upon him.

    _Gab._ Excellent.

    _Per._ I'll do it my self; and when 'tis done, provide ye,
    For we'll away for _Italy_ this night.

    _Gab._ We'll follow thorow all hazards.

    _Per._ Oh false Lord,
    Unmanly, mischievous; how I could curse thee;
    But that but blasts thy fame; have at thy heart, fool:
    Loop-holes I'll make enough to let thy life out.

    _Lav._ Oh! does the devil ride me?

    _Per._ Nay then.

    _Lav._ Murder.
    Nay, then take my share too.

    _Per._ Help; oh! he has slain me.
    Bloudy intentions must have bloud.

    _Lav._ Hah?

    _Per._ Heaven.

    _Gab._ He sinks, he sinks, for ever sinks: oh fortune!
    Oh sorrow! how like seas thou flowest upon me!
    Here will I dwell for ever. Weep _Maria_,
    Weep this young man's misfortune: oh thou truest!

                            _Enter Spirit._

    _Lav._ What have I done?

    _Spir._ That that has mark'd thy soul man.

    _Lav._ And art thou come again thou dismal spirit?

    _Spir._ Yes, to devour thy last.

    _Lav._ Mercy upon thee.

    _Spir._ Thy hour is come: succession, honor, pleasure,
    And all the lustre thou so long hast look'd for
    Must here have end: Summon thy sins before thee.

    _Lav._ Oh my affrighted soul!

    _Spir._ There lies a black one;
    Thy own best servant by thy own hand slain,
    Thy drunkenness procur'd it: There's another:
    Think of fair _Gabriella_, there she weeps;
    And such tears are not lost.

    _Lav._ Oh miserable!

    _Spir._ Thy foul intention to the virtuous _Casta_.

    _Lav._ No more, no more, thou wild-fire.

    _Spir._ Last, thy last wife,
    Think on the wrong she suffers.

    _Lav._ O my miserie.
    Oh! whither shall I flie?

    _Spir._ Thou hast no faith, fool.
    Heark to thy knell.                          [_Sings, and vanishes._

    _Lav._ Millions of sins muster about mine eyes now:
    Murders, ambitions, lust, false faiths; O horror,
    In what a stormie form of death thou rid'st now!
    Me thinks I see all tortures, fires, and frosts,
    Deep sinking caves, where nothing but despair dwels,
    The balefull birds of night hovering about 'em;
    A grave, me thinks, now opens, and a herse
    Hung with my Arms tumbles into it: oh!
    Oh! my afflicted soul: I cannot pray;
    And the least child that has but goodness in him
    May strike my head off; so stupid are my powers:
    I'll lift mine eyes up though.

    _Mar._ Cease these laments,
    They are too poor for venge[a]nce: _Lavall_ lives yet.

    _Gab._ Then thus I drie all sorrows from these eyes,
    Fury and rage possess 'em now: damn'd divell.

    _Lav._ Hah?

    _Gab._ This for young _Perolot_.

    _Lav._ O mercy, mercy.

    _Gab._ This for my wrongs.

    _Lav._ But one short hour to cure me.               [_Knock within._
    Oh be not cruell: Oh! oh.

    _Mar._ Heark, they knock.
    Make hast for Heavens sake, Mistris.

    _Gab._ This for _Casta_.

    _Lav._ Oh, O, O, O!                                      [_He dies._

    _Mar._ He's dead: come quickly, let's away with him,
    'T will be too late else.

    _Gab._ Help, help up to th' chamber!    [_Exeunt with Lavalls body._

         _Enter Duke, Hellena, Gentile, Casta, and attendants,_
                             _with lights._

    _Duke._ What frights are these?

    _Gent._ I [a]m sure here 's one past frighting.
    Bring the lights neerer: I have enough alreadie.
    Out, out, mine eyes. Look, _Casta_.

    _Lord._ 'T is young _Perolot_.

    _Duke._ When came he over? Hold the Gentlewoman, she sinks; and
    bear her off.

    _Cast._ O my dear brother!                                  [_Exit._

    _Gent._ There is a time for all; for me, I hope, too,
    And very shortly. Murdred?

                          [_Gabriella, Maria, with Lavalls body, above._

    _Duke._ Who's above there?

    _Gab._ Look up, and see.

    _Duke._ What may this mean?

    _Gab._ Behold it;
    Behold the drunken murderer
    Of that young Gentleman; behold the rankest,
    The vilest, basest slave that ever flourish'd.

    _Duke._ Who kill'd him?

    _Gab._ I; and there 's the cause I did it:
    Read, if your eyes will give you leave.

    _Hell._ Oh! monstrous.

    _Gab._ Nay, out it shall: there, take this false heart to ye;
    The base dishonor of a thousand women:
    Keep it in gold, Duke, 'tis a precious jewel.
    Now to my self; for I have liv'd a fair age,
    Longer by some moneths then I had a mind to.

    _Duke._ Hold.

    _Gab._ Here, young _Perolot_; my first contracted
    True love shall never go alone.

    _Duke._ Hold, _Gabriella_.
    I do forgive all.

    _Gab._ I shall die the better,
    Thus let me seek my grave, and my shames with me.

    _Mar._ Nor shalt thou go alone my noble Mistris:
    Why should I live, and thou dead?

    _Lord._ Save the wench there.

    _Mar._ She is, I hope; and all my sins here written.

    _Duke._ This was a fatal night.

    _Gent._ Heaven has his working,
    Which we cannot contend against.

    _Duke._ Alas!

    _Gent._ Your Grace has your alas too.

    _Duke._ Would 't were equal;
    For thou hast lost an honest noble childe.

    _Gent._ 'T is heir enough has lost a good remembrance.

    _Duke._ See all their bodies buried decently,
    Though some deserv'd it not. How do you, Lady?

    _Hell._ Even with your Graces leave, ripe for a Monasterie;
    There will I wed my life to tears and prayers,
    And never know what man is more.

    _Duke._ Your pleasure;
    How does the maid within?

    _Lord._ She is gone before, Sir,
    The same course that my Lady takes.

    _Gent._ And my course shall be my Beads at home; so
    Please your Grace to give me leave to leave the Court.

    _Duke._ In peace, Sir,
    And take my love along.

    _Gent._ I shall pray for ye.

    _Duke._ Now to our selves retire we, and begin
    By this example to correct each sin.                      [_Exeunt._

                                                            [_Flourish._

    _King. Em._ By this we plainly view the two imposthumes
    That choke a kingdoms welfare; Ease, and Wantonness;
    In both of which _Lavall_ was capital:
    For first, Ease stole away his minde from honor,
    That active noble thoughts had kept still working,
    And then deliver'd him to drink and women,
    Lust and outragious riot; and what their ends are,
    How infamous and foul, we see example.
    Therefore, that great man that will keep his name,
    And gain his merit out of Virtues schools,
    Must make the pleasures of the world his fools.         [_Flourish._

                             _The_ TRIUMPH.

    _Enter Musicians: next them_, Perolot _with the wound he died_
    _with. Then_ Gabriella _and_ Maria, _with their wounds: after
    them, four Furies with Bannerets in[s]crib'd_ Revenge, Murder,
    Lust _and_ Drunkenness, _singing. Next them_, Lavall _wounded.
    Then [a] Chariot with Death drawn by the Destinies_.    [_Flourish._

                           _Enter_ PROLOGUE.

    _From this sad sight ascend your noble eye,_
    _And see old_ Time _helping triumphantly,_
    _Helping his Master_ Man: _view here his vanities_
    _And see his false friends like those glutted flyes,_
    _That when they've suckt their fill, fall off, and fade_
    _From all remembrance of him, like a shade._
    _And last, view who relieves him; and that gone,_
    _We hope your favour, and our Play is done_.              [Flourish.

          _Enter Anthropos, Desire, and Vain Delight; Bounty._

    _Ant._ What hast thou done, _Desire_, and how imploy'd
    The charge I gave thee, about levying wealth
    For our supplies?

    _Desire._ I have done all, yet nothing:
    Tri'd all, and all my ways, yet all miscarried;
    There dwells a sordid dulness in their mindes
    Thou son of earth, colder then that thou art made of,
    I came to _Craft_, found all his hooks about him,
    And all his nets baited and set; his slie self
    And greedie _Lucre_ at a serious conference
    Which way to tie the world within their statutes:
    Business of all sides and of all sorts swarming
    Like Bees broke loose in summer: [I] declared
    Your will and want together, both inforcing
    With all the power and pains I had, to reach him;
    Yet all fell short.

    _Anth._ His answer.

    _Desire._ This he gave me.
    Your wants are never ending; and those supplies
    That came to stop those breaches, are ever lavisht
    Before they reach the main, in toys and trifles,
    Gew-gaws, and gilded puppets: _Vain delight_
    He says has ruin'd ye, with clappi[n]g all
    That comes in for support, on clothes, and Coaches,
    Perfumes, and powder'd pates; and that your Mistris,
    The Lady _Pleasure_, like a sea devours
    At length both you and him too. If you have houses,
    Or land, or jewels, for good pawn, he'll hear you,
    And will be readie to supplie occasions;
    If not, he locks his ears up, and grows stupid.
    From him, I went to _Vanity_, whom I found
    Attended by [a]n endless troop of Tailors,
    Mercers, Embroiderers, Feather-makers, Fumers,
    All occupations opening like a Mart,
    That serve to rig the body out with braverie;
    And th'row the roome new fashions flew like flyes,
    In thousand gaudie shapes; _Pride_ waiting on her,
    And busily surveying all the breaches
    Time and delaying Nature had wrought in her,
    Which still with art she piec'd again, and strengthened:
    I told your wants; she shew'd me gowns and head-tires,
    Imbroider'd wastcoats, smocks seam'd thorow with cut-works,
    Scarfs, mantles, petticoats, muffs, powders, paintings,
    Dogs, monkeys, parrots, which all seemed to shew me
    The way her money went. From her to _Pleasure_
    I took my journey.

    _Anth._ And what says our best Mistris?

    _Desire._ She danc'd me out this answer presently:
    Revels and Masques had drawn her drie alreadie.
    I met old _Time_ too, mowing mankind down,
    Who says you are too hot, and he must purge ye.

    _Anth._ A cold _quietus_. Miserable creatures,
    Born to support and beautifie your master,
    The godlike man, set here to do me service,
    The children of my will; why, or how dare ye,
    Created to my use alone, disgrace me?
    Beasts have more court[e]sie; they live about me,
    Offering their warm wooll to the shearers hand,
    To clothe me with their bodies to my labours;
    Nay, even their lives they daily sacrifice,
    And proudly press with garlands to the altars,
    To fill the gods oblations. Birds bow to me,
    Striking their downie sails to do me service,
    Their sweet airs ever ecchoing to mine honor,
    And to my rest their plumie softs they send me.
    Fishes, and plants, and all where life inhabits,
    But mine own cursed kind, obey their ruler;
    Mine have forgot me, miserable mine,
    Into whose stonie hearts, neglect of dutie,
    Squint-ey'd deceit, and self-love, are crept closely:
    None feel my wants, not one mend with me.

    _Desire._ None, Sir?

    _Ant._ Thou hast forgot (_Desire_) thy best friend, _Flatterie_;
    He cannot fail me.

    _Delight._ Fail? he will sell himself,
    And all within his power, close to his skin first.

    _Desire._ I thought so too, and made him my first venture
    But found him in a young Lords ear so busie,
    So like a smiling showr pouring his soul
    In at his portals, his face in a thousand figures
    Catching the vain mind of the men: I pull'd him,
    But still he hung like birdlime; spoke unto him,
    His answer still was, By the Lord, sweet Lord,
    And By my soul, thou master-piece of honor;
    Nothing could stave him off: he has heard your flood's gone;
    And on decaying things he seldom smiles, Sir.

    _Anth._ Then here I break up state, and free my followers,
    Putting my fortune now to _Time_, and _Justice_:
    Go seek new masters now; for _Anthropos_
    Neglected by his friends, must seek new fortunes.
    _Desire_, to _Avarice_ I here commend thee,
    Where thou may'st live at full bent of thy wishes:
    And _Vain Delight_, thou feeder of my follies
    With light fantastickness, be thou in favour.
    To leave thee, _Bountie_, my most worthie servant,
    Troubles me more then m[ine] own misery;
    But we must part: go plant thy self, my best friend,
    In honorable hearts that truely know thee,
    And there live ever like thy self, a virtue:
    But leave this place, and seek the Countrey,
    For Law, and lust, like fire lick all up here.
    Now none but _Poverty_ must follow me,
    Despis'd patch'd _Poverty_; and we two married,
    Will seek _Simplicity_, _Content_ and _Peace_ out.

                            _Enter Poverty._

    And live with them in exile. How uncall'd on
    My true friend comes!

    _Poverty._ Here, hold thee, _Anthropos_,
    Thou art almost arm'd at rest; put this on,
    A penitential robe, to purge thy pleasures:
    Off with that vanitie.

    _Anth._ Here, _Vain Delight_,
    And with this all my part, to thee again
    Of thee I freely render.

    _Pov._ Take this staff now,
    And be more constant to your steps hereafter:
    The staff is _Staidness of affections_.
    Away you painted flyes, that with mans summet
    Take life and heat buzzing about his blossoms;
    When growing full, ye turn to Caterpillers,
    Gnawing the root that gave you life. Fly shadows.

                                           [_Exeunt desire and delight._

    Now to _Content_ I'll give thee, _Anthropos_,
    To _Rest_ and _Peace_: no vanitie dwells there;
    _Desire_ [nor] _Pleasur[e]_, to delude thy mind more;
    No _Flatteries_ smooth-fil'd tongue shall poison thee.

    _Anth._ O! _Jupiter_, if I have ever offer'd
    Upon thy burning Altars but one Sacrifice
    Thou and thy fair-ey'd _Juno_ smil'd upon;
    If ever, to thine honor, bounteous feasts,
    Where all thy statu[e]s sweet with wine and incense,
    Have by the son of earth been celebrated:
    Hear me (the child of shame now) hear thou helper,
    And take my wrongs into thy hands, thou justice
    Done by unmindful man, unmerciful,
    Against his master done, against thy order;
    And raise again, thou father of all honor,
    The poor despis'd, but yet thy noblest creature.
    Raise from his ruines once more this sunk Cedar,
    That all may fear thy power, and I proclaim it.           [_Exeunt._

           _Jupiter and Mercury descend severally. Trumpets_
                             _small above._

    _Jup._ Ho! _Mercury_, my winged son.

    _Mer._ Your servant.

    _Jup._ Whose powerful prayers were those that reach'd our ears,
    Arm'd in such spells of pity now?

    _Mer._ The sad petitions
    Of the scorn'd son of earth, the god-like _Anthropos_,
    He that has swell'd your sacred fires with incense,
    And pil'd upon your Altars a thousand heifers;
    He that (beguil'd by _Vanity_ and _Pleasure_,
    _Desire_, _Craft_, _Flattery_, and smooth _Hypocrisie_)
    Stands now despis'd and ruin'd, left to _Poverty_.

    _Jup._ It must not be; he was not rais'd for ruine;
    Nor shall those hands heav'd at m[ine] Altars, perish:
    He is our noblest creature. Flee to _Time_,
    And charge him presently release the bands
    Of _Poverty_ and _Want_ this suitor sinks in:
    Tell him, among the Sun-burnt _Indians_,
    That know no other wealth but Peace and pleasure,
    She shall find golden _Plutus_, god of riches,
    Who idly is ador'd, the innocent people
    Not knowing yet what power and weight he carries:
    Bid him compell him to his right use, honor,
    And presently to live with _Anthropos_.
    It is our Will. Away.

    _Mer._ I do obey it.            [_Jupiter and Mercury ascend again._

    Musick. _Enter_ Plutus, _with a troop of_ Indians, _singing and_
    _dancing wildly about him, and bowing to him: which ended, Enter_
    Time.

    _Time._ Rise, and away; 'tis _Joves_ command.

    _Plut._ I will not:
    Ye have some fool to furnish now; some _Midas_
    That to no purpose I must choak with riches.
    Who must I go to?

    _Time._ To the son of earth;
    He wants the god of wealth.

    _Plut._ Let him want still:
    I was too lately with him, almost torn
    Into ten thousand pieces by his followers:
    I could not sleep, but _Craft_ or _Vanity_
    Were filing off my fingers; not eat, for fear
    _Pleasure_ would cast her self into my belly,
    And there surprize my heart.

    _Time._ These have forsaken him:
    Make haste then, thou must with me: be not angry,
    For fear a greater anger light upon thee.

    _Plut._ I do obey then: but change my figure;
    For when I willingly befriend a creature,
    Goodly, and full of glory I shew to him;
    But when I am compell'd, old, and decrepid,
    I halt, and hang upon my staff. Farewell, friends,
    I will not be long from ye; all my servants
    I leave among ye still, and my chief riches.

                                       [_Exeunt_ Indians _with a dance_.

    Oh _Time_, what innocence dwells here, what goodness!
    They know me not, nor hurt me not, yet hug me.
    Away, I'll follow thee: but not too fast, _Time_.

                                            [_Exeunt_ Plutus _and_ Time.

       _Enter Anthropos, Honesty, Simplicity, Humility, Poverty._

    _Humil._ Man, be not sad, nor let this divorce
    From _Mundus_, and his many ways of pleasure,
    Afflict thy spirits; which consider'd rightly
    With inward eyes, makes thee arrive at happy.

    _Pov._ For now what danger or deceit can reach thee?
    What matter left for _Craft_ or _Covetize_
    To plot against thee? what _Desire_ to burn thee?

    _Honest._ Oh son of earth, let _Honesty_ possess thee;
    Be as thou wast intended, like thy Maker;
    See thorow those gawdy shadows, that like dreams
    Have dwelt upon thee long: call up thy goodness,
    Thy mind and man with[in] thee, that lie shipwrack'd,
    And then how thin and vain these fond affections,
    How lame this worldly [l]ove, how lump-like raw
    And ill digested all these vanities
    Will shew, let _Reason_ tell thee.

    _Simpl._ Crown thy mind
    With that above the worlds wealth, joyful suff'ring,
    And truly be the master of thy self.
    Which is the noblest Empire; and there stand
    The thing thou wert ordain'd, and set to govern.

    _Pov._ Come, let us sing the worlds shame: hear us, _Anthropos_.

               Song: _And then Enter_ Time _and_ Plutus.

    _Hon._ Away; we are betrayd.              [_Exeunt all but_ Poverty.

    _Time._ Get thou too after,
    Thou needy bare companion; go for ever,
    For ever, I conjure thee: make no answer.           [_Exit_ Poverty.

    _Anth._ What mak'st thou here, _Time_? thou that to this Minute,
    never stood still by me?

    _Time._ I have brought thee succour;
    And now catch hold, I am thine: The god of riches
    (Compell'd by him that saw thy miseries,
    The ever just and wakeful _Jove_, at length)
    Is come unto thee: use him as thine own;
    For 'tis the doom of Heaven: he must obey thee.

    _Anth._ Have I found pity then?

    _Time._ Thou hast; and _Justice_
    Against those false seducers of thine honor:
    Come, give him present helps.                          [_Exit_ Time.

                  _Industry and the Arts discovered._

    _Plut._ Come _Industry_,
    Thou friend of life; and next to thee, rise _Labour_;

                                       [Plutus _stamps_. Labour _rises_.

    Rise presently: and now to your employments;
    But first conduct this mortal to the rock.

                                     _They carry_ Anthropos _to a Rock,_
                                                   _and fall a digging_.

    What seest thou now? [Plutus _strikes the Rock, and flames flie out_.

    _Anth._ A glorious Mine of Metal.
    Oh _Jupiter_, my thanks.

    _Plut._ To me a little.

    _Anth._ And to the god of wealth, my Sacrifice.

    _Plut._ Nay, then I am rewarded. Take heed now, Son,
    You are afloat again, lest _Mundus_ catch ye.

    _Anth._ Neve[r] betray me more.

    _Plut._ I must to _India_,
    From whence I came, where my main wealth lies buried,
    And these must with me. Take that Book and Mattock,
    And by those, know to live again.

                             [_Exeunt_ Plutus, Industry, Labour, _&[c]._

    _Anth._ I shall do.

                        _Enter_ Fame _sounding_.

    _Fame._ Thorow all the world, the fortune of great _Anthropos_
    Be known and wonder'd at; his riches envy'd
    As far as Sun or Time is; his power fear'd too.           [_Exeunt._

                                MUSICK.

    _Enter_ Delight, Pleasure, [Craft, Lucre,] Vanity, _&c. dancing_
        _(and Masqu'd) towards the Rock, offering service to_
        Anthropos. Mercury _from above. Musick heard. One half of
        a cloud drawn. Singers are discovered: then the other half
        drawn._ Jupiter _seen in glory_.

    _Mer._ Take heed, weak man, those are the sins that sunk thee:
    Trust 'em no more: kneel, and give thanks to _Jupiter_.

    _Anth._ Oh mighty power!

    _Jup._ Unmask, ye gilded poisons:
    Now look upon 'em, son of earth, and shame 'em;
    Now see the faces of thy evil Angels,
    Lead 'em to _Time_, and let 'em fill his Triumph:
    Their memories be here forgot for ever.

    _Anth._ Oh just great god! how many lives of service,
    What ages only given to thine honor.
    What infinites of vows, and holy prayers,
    Can pay my thanks?

    _Jup._ Rise up: and to assure thee
    That never more thou shalt feel want, strike, _Mercury_,
    Strike him; and by that stroke he shall for ever
    Live in that rock of Gold, and still enjoy it.
    Be't done, I say. Now sing in honor of him.

                                _SONG._

    _Enter the Triumph. First, the Musicians: then_ Vain Delight,
        Pleasure, Craft, L[u]cre, Vanity, _and other of the Vices: Then
        a Chariot with the person of_ Time _sitting in it, drawn by
        four persons, representing Hours, singing_.

                           _Exeunt._      _Flourish._

    _King. Em._ By this we note (sweet-heart) in Kings and Princes
    A weakness, even in spite of all their wisdoms.
    And often to be master'd by abuses:
    Our natures here describ'd too, and what humors
    Prevail above our Reasons to undo us.
    But this the last and best. When no friend stands,
    The gods are merciful, and lend their hands.      _Flourish._




Epilogue


    _Now as the Husbandman, whose Costs and Pain,_
    _Whose Hopes and Helps lie buried in his Grain,_
    _Waiting a happy Spring to ripen full_
    _His long'd-for Harvest, to the Reapers pull;_
    _Stand we expecting, having sown our Ground_
    _With so much charge, (the fruitfulness not found)_
    _The Harvest of our Labours: For we know_
    _You are our Spring; and when you smile, we grow._
    _Nor Charge nor Pain, shall bind us from your Pleasures,_
    _So you but lend your hands to fill our Measures._

                                 FINIS.




APPENDIX.


    _In the following references to the text the lines are numbered
        from the top of the page, including titles, acts, stage
        directions, &c., but not, of course, the headline or mere
        'rules.' Where, as in the lists of Persons Represented, there
        are double columns, the right-hand column is numbered after the
        left._

It has not been thought necessary to record the correction of every
turned letter nor the substitution of marks of interrogation for
marks of exclamation and _vice versâ_. Full-stops have been silently
inserted at the ends of speeches and each fresh speaker has been given
the dignity of a fresh line: in the double-columned folio the speeches
are frequently run on. Misprints in the Quartos and the First Folio
are recorded when they appear to be interesting. A word or two from
the printed text is attached to the variants recorded below in cases
where the variant, by itself, would not be sufficiently clear. Altered
punctuation is shown, usually, by printing the old punctuation.

[Thanks are due to Mrs Arnold Glover for collations of quartos in the
British Museum and to R. F. Towndrow, for collations of those in the
Bodleian.]


THIERRY AND THEODORET.

        =A= = 1621. =B= = 1648. =C= = 1649. =D= = Second folio.

(=A=) THE | TRAGEDY | OF THIERRY KING OF | _France, and his Brother_ |
Theodoret. | As it was diverse times acted at the Blacke-| _Friers by
the Kings Majesties_ | Servants. | _LONDON_, | Printed for _Thomas
Walkley_, and are to bee sold at | his shop in _Britaines Burse_, at
the signe of | the Eagle and Child. | 1621.

(=B=) THE | TRAGEDY | OF | THIERRY | King of _France_, and his Brother
| THEODORET. | As it was diverse times acted at the | _Blacke-Friers_
_by the Kings Majesties_ | Servants. Written by | John Fletcher Gent. |
_LONDON_, | Printed for _Humphrey Mosely_, and are to be sold at | his
Shop at the _Princes Armes_ in St. _Pauls_ | Church-yard. 1648.

(=C=) THE | TRAGEDY | OF | THIERRY | King of _France_, and his Brother
| THEODORET. | As it was diverse times acted at the _Blacke-Friers,_
_by the Kings Majesties_ | Servants. | Written by | FRACIS BEAMONT.
AND JOHN FLETCHER Gent. | _LONDON_, | Printed for _Humphrey Moseley_,
and are to be sold at | his Shop at the _Princes Armes_ in St. _Pauls_
| Church-yard. 1649.

[The following lines are printed from the edition of 1649]

                       The Prologue to _Thierry_
                            and _Theodoret_.

    _Wit is become an Antick; and puts on_
    _As many shapes of variation,_
    _To court the times applause, as the times dare_
    _Change severall fashions; nothing is thought rare_
    _Which is not new and follow'd; yet we know_
    _That what was worne some twenty yeares agoe_
    _Comes into grace againe, and we pursue_
    _That custome, by presenting to your view_
    _A Play in fashion then, not doubting now_
    _But 'twill appeare the same, if you allow_
    _Worth to their noble memories, whose names_
    _Beyond all power of death live in their fames._

                             The Epilogue.

    _Our Poet knowes you will be just; but we_
    _Appeale to mercy: he desires that ye_
    _Would not distast his Muse, because of late_
    _Transplanted; which would grow here if no fate_
    _Have an unluckie bode: opinion_
    _Comes hither but on crutches yet, the sun_
    _Hath lent no beame to warme us; if this play_
    _Proceed more fortunate, wee'll crowne the day_
    _And Love that brought you hither: 'tis in you_
    _To make A Little Sprig of Lawrell grow,_
    _And spread into a Grove where you may sit_
    _And here soft Stories, when by blasting it_
    _You gain no honour, though our ruines Lye_
    _To tell the spoyles of your offended eye:_
    _If not for what we are, (for alas, here_
    _No_ Roscius _moves to charme your eyes or ear)_
    _Yet as you hope hereafter to see Playes._
    _Incourage us, and give our Poet Bayes._

                          _Dramatis Personæ._

  _Thierry_, King of France
  _Theodoret_, his Brother Prince of _Austrachia_
  _Martell_, their noble Kinsman
  _Devitry_, an honest Souldier of fortune
  _Protuldy_,  }
  _Bawdher_,   }  Cowardly Panders.
  _Lecure_,    }
  A Priest
  A Post
  Huntsmen
  Souldiers
  Doctors
  _Brunhalt_, Mother to the Princes
  _Ordella_, the matchlesse wife of _Thierry_
  _Memburges_, Daughter of _Theodoret_.

                          _The Scene France._

p. =1=, l. 5. D] _Bawdher_ l. 25. A-D] women.

p. =2=, l. 1. A] promises l. 5. A] shewes vm l. 6. A] multiplyes vm
l. 30. A-C] Courts a this D] Nile, have l. 37. A-C] _Theod._ ...
impudence, | And ... mother | Brought ... it |

p. =3=, l. 20. D] womam l. 32. B-D] bedders. l. 33. A-C] _Portalyde_ D]
_Protalyde_

p. =4=, l. 4. B-D] swetness l. 8. A] am I thus rewarded? B and C] am I
thus rewarded, l. 37. A-C] I am

p. =5=, l. 8. D] _Bawdher_ l. 26. D] long she l. 28. D] unlikt

p. =6=, l. 3. A-C] I am not l. 7. A-D] kisses. l. 22. A-C] For I am l.
24. D] _Actus Secundus. Scæna Prima_ l. 28. D] I'm jealous l. 32. D]
weakness

p. =7=, l. 12. D] to dependance l. 24. D] reason l. 29. D] lose

p. =8=, l. 38. B-D] of them l. 39. D] mean's

p. =9=, l. 30. D] ti's pace l. 30. D] Thierry, be

p. =10=, l. 13. A-C] I am l. 32. B-D] fiers l. 35. D] or if

p. =11=, l. 5. D] Shal l. 21. A-D] dust, were

p. =12=, l. 2. A] I shall still l. 9. D] an one l. 40. D] win 'em,

p. =13=, l. 1. A-C] shall seeme D] shall seem l. 6. B-D] I'll breath
l. 17. D] knowledg l. 24. B-D] Withall l. 34. A-D] _Theoderet_ D]
_Theoderet Memberge_,

p. =14=, l. 21. D] _Nero._ l. 27. D] colors

p. =15=, l. 36. D] Alass

p. =16=, l. 12. D] eusie l. 34. B-D] polcats l. 35. A] trustde

p. =17=, l. 22. B-D] mid way l. 25. B-D] away, all l. 27. D] _Portaldy
Lecure_. l. 34. B-D] pandar sponge l. 39. D] your Son

p. =18=, l. 7. D] delicats l. 20. A] others, death; B-D] others death;
l. 29. B-D] of chastity l. 39. B-D] i'st?

p. =19=, l. 9. D] then, think you l. 27. D] I'm

p. =20=, l. 2. A-C] I am sure l. 12. D] too; l. 15. B-D] i'st?

p. =21=, l. 1. B-D] violence. l. 4. D] _Their._ l. 6. D] You I'll hunt
l. 20. A] currall l. 24. A-C] ath l. 28. A] take it l. 29. D] Farewll
l. 34. B-D] Sir,

p. =22=, l. 6. A] met a noble l. 27. B-D] tels l. 34. A] to set my l.
40. A-C] they are

p. =23=, l. 11. A] vm, take a tree Sir, B and C] um take a tree Sir, D]
'em take a tree Sir; l. 17. D] an l. 19. B-D] stay. l. 20. A-C] a both
l. 28. B-D] bawb l. 37. A-C] mushrump

p. =24=, l. 9. D] _Bawdher_ l. 39. B-D] him, I

p. =25=, l. 7. D] _Portaldye_ l. 10. A] on thy l. 16. D] philip

p. =26=, l. 18. D] volour l. 20. A] is care l. 21. D] my my actions l.
23. D] _Martel_ (_here and often elsewhere_) l. 33. A-D] falls

p. =27=, l. 14. A-C] the nose l. 18. D] should l. 22. D] hear l. 29.
A-C] that is l. 34. D] You're l. 40. D] _Martel_

p. =28=, l. 28. D] pray pardon l. 30. D] your ... Martel B-D _Print_
_as a new line_] _Mart._ Your company, etc. l. 37. D _omits_] fearefull

p. =29=, l. 2. A] it B-D] it. l. 22. D] volour

p. =30=, l. 1. A-D] work

p. =31=, l. 5. A] selfe's l. 20. D] self. l. 26. D] paralell'd, l. 27.
D] mother, l. 38. A-C] I am l. 40. A-C] the

p. =32=, l. 2. D] fires l. 17. D] up. l. 22. D] mates. l. 32. D]
happiness.

p. =33=, l. 14. B-D] one stange of Revels, and each ye l. 29. B-D] I a
man? l. 37. D] thought

p. =34=, l. 8. D] what Ill can l. 35. B and C] conveniance D]
convenience

p. =35=, l. 11. B-D] I have no l. 26. D] born l. 30. D] shall l. 32. B
and C] marcht

p. =36=, l. 2. A and D] their l. 10. A-D] son's

p. =37=, l. 31. D] born

p. =38=, l. 11. A-C] _The Dance_. l. 18. B-D] Theodoret? l. 32. D] to
't.

p. =39=, l. 7. B-D] Whether l. 13. B-D] my

p. =40=, l. 9. D] knows. l. 12. D] face

p. =41=, l. 8. D] loans l. 14. D] skill. l. 15. D] his

p. =42=, l. 29. A-D] hour. l. 30. D] towards l. 35. D] gil'd

p. =43=, l. 38. B-D] away

p. =45=, l. 7. D] thing l. 36. D] thoughts.

p. =46=, l. 5. A-D] nothing's hard, l. 9. D] _Ordeel._ l. 16. B-D]
humors. l. 17. A] Bring um l. 21. A-C] Here is l. 28. D] hear. l. 35.
D] knowledg.

p. =47=, l. 1. _Possibly_ thou'rt made the blessing _is intended_ l.
14. D] _Puls_

p. =48=, l. 3. A-D] _Devi._ l. 11. D] an l. 20. B-D] thing

p. =49=, l. 18. B and C] olive beare D] Olive-bear l. 23. A-C] What 'tis

p. =50=, l. 12. A-C] I am l. 36. D] snip l. 37. B-D] us'd.

p. =51=, l. 2. B-D] use of it l. 11. D] _Baun._ A _prints a new line_]
And we will l. 23. A-C] upon it l. 25. A-C] t'as l. 35. B and C] the
ability

p. =52=, l. 24. D] hopes. l. 26. B-D] them. l. 30. A-C] the l. 39. B
and C] stirre D] stirr

p. =53=, l. 6. A-C] doest l. 7. B-D] excuse. l. 10. D] I

p. =54=, l. 7. D] from from l. 14. D] guick

p. =55=, l. 15. D] Iaid down l. 19. B-D] pleasure

p. =56=, l. 2. D] argment

p. =57=, l. 17. B-D] than thou l. 21. A] it B and C] it, D] it. l. 29.
D] in all

p. =58=, l. 18. D] misery?

p. =59=, l. 4. A-C] of good D] of a good l. 7. A] a thy l. 15. B-D] and
l. 20. D] some l. 32. D] you?

p. =60=, l. 29. D] _Soldier._

p. =61=, l. 28. A-C] only bind mee before l. 36. D] melancholly

p. =62=, l. 8. A] fetch em ll. 9-10. A-C _omit one_] where l. 20. A]
em l. 25. A] was I, dreampt not of your conveiance? B and C] was I,
dreampt not of your conveyance? helpe to unbidd D] was I? dreamt not of
your conveyance, l. 30. A] top l. 31. A] em

p. =63=, l. 25. D] piece-meals l. 32. D] paricide

p. =64=, l. 2. D] Hawks l. 7. A-C] cures D] _omits the passage in_
_square brackets from l. 11 to l. 30 on p. 67. Supplied here from_ A l.
25. A] prayers l. 35. C] grace feele yourselfe now

p. =67=, l. 9. A] are B and C] them l. 19. A] defeeaed l. 20. B and C]
pleasures

p. =68=, l. 6. A] give l. 21. A] um l. 27. D] _Martel._ l. 39. D] came

p. =69=, l. 2. B-D] soule away l. 10. A] She is l. 15. B-D] Sir. l. 38.
A-C] _Dies_

p. =70=, l. 1. A] um l. 2. A] um l. 3. D] lasteh


THE WOMAN-HATER.

            =A= = 1607. =B= = 1607. =C= = 1648. =D= = 1649.
                          =E= = Second folio.

(=A=) THE | WOMAN | HATER. | _As it hath beene lately Acted by | the_
_Children of Paules_: | LONDON | Printed, and are to be sold | by _John
Hodgets_ in Paules | Church-yard. 1607.

(=B=) _THE_ | WOMAN | HATER. | _As it hath beene lately Acted by | the_
_Children of Paules_: | LONDON | Printed by _R. R._ and are to be |
sold by _John Hodgets_ in Paules | Church-yard. 1607.

(=C=) THE | WOMAN | HATER. | _As it hath beene Acted by his_
_Majesties_ | Servants with great Applause. | Written by | JOHN
FLETCHER Gent. | _LONDON_, | Printed for _Humphrey Moseley_, and are
to be sold at | his Shop at the _Princes Armes_ in St. _Pauls_ |
Church-yard. 1648.

(=D=) THE | WOMAN | HATER, | OR THE | Hungry Courtier. | A COMEDY,
| _As it hath been Acted by his Majesties | Servants with great_
_Applause._ | Written by | FRANCIS BEAMONT AND JOHN FLETCHER. Gent. |
_LONDON_, | Printed for _Humphrey Moseley_, and are to be sold at | his
Shop at the _Princes Armes_ in St. _Pauls_ | Church-yard. 1649.

               The Prologue to the _Woman-hater_, or the
                           _Hungry Courtier_.

    _Ladies take't as a secret in your Eare,_
    _In stead of homage, and kind welcome here,_
    _I heartily could wish you all were gone;_
    _For if you stay, good faith, we are undone._
    _Alas! you now expect, the usuall wayes_
    _Of our addresse, which is your Sexes praise:_
    _But we to night, unluckily must speake,_
    _Such things will make your Lovers-Heart-strings breake,_
    _Bely your Virtues, and your beauties staine,_
    _With words, contriv'd long since, in your disdaine._
    _'Tis strange you stirre not yet; not all this while_
    _Lift up your Fannes to hide a scornefull smile:_
    _Whisper, or jog your Lords to steale away;_
    _So leave us t'act, unto our selves, our Play:_
    _Then sure, there may be hope, you can subdue_
    _Your patience to endure an Act or two:_
    _Nay more, when you are told our Poets rage_
    _Pursues but one example, which that age_
    _Wherein he liv'd produc'd; and we rely_
    _Not on the truth, but the varietie._
    _His Muse beleev'd not, what she then did write;_
    _Her Wings were wont to make a nobler flight;_
    _Sor'd high, and to the Stars, your Sex did raise;_
    _For which, full Twenty yeares, he wore the Bayes._
    _'Twas he reduced_ Evandra _from her scorne,_
    _And taught the sad_ Aspacia _how to mourne;_
    _Gave_ Arethusa's _love a glad reliefe._
    _And made_ Panthea _elegant in griefe._
    _If those great Trophies of his noble Muse,_
    _Cannot one humor 'gainst your Sex excuse_
    _Which we present to night; you'l finde a way_
    _How to make good the Libell in our Play:_
    _So you are cruell to your selves; whilst he_
    _(Safe in the fame of his integritie)_
    _Will be a Prophet, not a Poet thought;_
    _And this fine Web last long though loosely wrought_.

                   The Epilogue to the _Woman-hater_,
                       or the _Hungry Courtier_.

    _The monuments of Vertue and desert,_
    _Appeare more goodly when the glosse of Art_
    _Is eaten off by time, then when at first:_
    _They were set up, not censur'd at the worst_
    _We have done our best for your contents to fit,_
    _With new paines, this old monument of wit._

                          _Dramatis Personæ_,

  Duke of _Millaine_
  _Gordamio_, The Woman-Hater
  _Count Valore_, Brother to _Oriana_
  _Lucio_, A foolish Femall Statesman
  _Arigo_, A Courtier attending the Duke
  _Lazarillo_, A Voluptuous Smell-feast
  His Boy.
  A Mercer, A City-Gull, Perlously in Love with Learning.
  A Pander
  A Gentleman, Instructor to _Lucio_

    A Secretary to _Lucio_
    Two Intelligencers
    Servants.
    _Oriana_, The Dukes Mistris
    An old deafe Country Gentlewoman
    Ladyes
    _Madona_, A Courtezan
    _Fraciscina_, One of her Wastcote-wayters.

    _The Scene Millaine._

p. =71=, l. 14. C-E] _dearenesse of his cares_ l. 16. C-E] _it would
please_ l. 25. C and D] _Lord Lord-borne_ E] Lord, Lord born

p. =72=, l. 10. C-E] as if

p. =73=, l. 8. E] and stare, l. 21. E] years l. 25. E] the dishes l.
29. E] Duke l. 34. E] knowledg, l. 36. C-E] to give

p. =74=, l. 19. E] chac'd the l. 36. E] he gave him

p. =75=, l. 6. C and D] pleasant varietyes E] pleasant variety l. 7.
E] swarmeth with l. 13. C-E] honor? l. 21. A and B] satisfied. C-E]
satisfied

p. =76=, l. 7. E] two joals l. 18. E] Not Palaces l. 35. A and B] after
one another gone, C and D] after one another, and gone,

p. =77=, l. 31. C-E] it will not swear l. 32. E] it it l. 37. E]
Exceeding apt to be

p. =78=, l. 8. E] at your voice, l. 9. E] your Banquets l. 38. E] hav-

p. =79=, l. 17. E] these ordinary l. 32. E] compass the

p. =80=, l. 8. A-D] ... Capon sauce | Upon ... of dust, | Manchets
for ... shields | l. 13. A and B] Count is

p. =81=, l. 17. E] l_ntelligencer_ l. 28. E] rare if you l. 31. A and
B] of Informer l. 16. A and B] in earnest? l. 18. C-E] ear-shots l. 30.
E] body, I will

p. =83=, l. 1. A and B] _Int._ Your Lordships Servant. _is followed by
Laz._ Will it please C-E _print as a separate speech, coming before
Laz._] _Count._ Your Lordships Servant. l. 3. E] Lordship to walk?

p. =84=, l. 15. A-E] desires Rome

p. =85=, l. 8. A-D] have I good l. 19. C-E] plainess l. 23. A-D] in
talking, treason l. 38. E] shippers

p. =86=, l. 25. C-E] How! _Arrigo: Lucio:_ l. 32. A-D] It is.

p. =87=, l. 14. A-D] at her | to me? l. 31. A-E] of this new l. 32. E]
betwixt Curtains

p. =88=, l. 4. E] tooth-picks?

p. =89=, l. 35. E] Uususpected

p. =90=, l. 5. C-E] thy Fortune is now l. 18. E] a clock, it l. 34.
A-D] Hath been

p. =91=, l. 1. C-E] years old l. 4. E] sols l. 13. A-D] that men must
l. 14. C and D] that men must live E] that must live l. 23. A and B]
the busines C and D] the businesse l. 26. E] shall perceive l. 33. C-E]
_Arrigo Lucio_ l. 36. E] his.

p. =92=, l. 15. C-E] Wither l. 27. A] Court, there l. 33. E] wil l. 39.
A-D] with patience. | to heare. E] with patience to hear.

p. =93=, l. 31. E] Lady's l. 32. E] and twindge l. 37. E] _Crnd._

p. =94=, l. 6. E] a think as l. 7. E] let the l. 20. C-E] nor this l.
22. C-E] silkgrograns l. 35. E] doe, cover

p. =95=, l. 1. E] have otherwise l. 17. E] lose

p. =96=, l. 14. E] woman

p. =97=, l. 32. E] knowledg

p. =98=, l. 7. E] tougues l. 7. E] lose l. 28. E] the sweet

p. =99=, l. 6. E] passion? yes l. 26. C-E] women: to l. 27. C-E] not to
be

p. =100=, l. 8. E] I unrip l. 15. E] _Valores_, Sister l. 26. E]
_Basilisks_, dead

p. =101=, l. 9. C-E] convert. l. 22. E] as I'm, l. 23. C-E] we have
store l. 34. C and D] I am the man that E] I'm the man that l. 38. E]
contritiou

p. =102=, l. 4. E] ill Spirit ll. 8-10 C-E]

    _Gond._ By the true honest service, that I owe these eyes strangely,
    My meaning is as spotles as my faith.

    _Oria._ The Duke doubt mine honour? a may judge

l. 18. E] _Gondarino_, shall l. 24. E] Ladys are l. 27. A and B] where
Witches

p. =103=, l. 34. E] comsort

p. =104=, l. 6. C-E] outward court ll. 13-15 _are omitted from_ E

p. =105=, l. 3. E] compass it search, l. 4. =E=] braius l. 20. C-E]
corrupted l. 25. A] cut out the meanes l. 25. C-E] sword l. 34. A-D]
here a

p. =106=, l. 22. A-D] a saith l. 22. A-D] he is greater l. 24. A-D]
a was A and B] did yee l. 25. A-D] a fell l. 27. A-D] a meant l. 28.
E] is very l. 29. A and B] if a deale l. 33. C-E] we not l. 37. A-D]
because a l. 38. A-D] a wo'd l. 40. E] hand-sword

p. =107=, l. 4. A and B] a be hanged. l. 19. C-E] be married

p. =110=, l. 1. A and B] Surnamed l. 3. A] stand stiffe l. 3. A-D]
places, | And execute l. 9. A and B] rays'd bee; by this l. 15. A-D]
whether l. 16. A and B] whither? wither? l. 22. E] kill l. 23. E] in
black

p. =111=, l. 1. E] _Actus Tertius._ l. 21. C-E] constancy; l. 27. C and
D] grave words l. 32. C-E] in the Summer

p. =113=, l. 11. A and B] those women l. 28. C-E _omit_] only

p. =114=, l. 14. E] thar l. 14. A-D _omit_] a l. 36. C-E] to recover

p. =115=, l. 16. C-E _give_] _Gondarino_, where is the Lady? _a
separate line, as though not part of the Duke's speech_. l. 28. E]
punish l. 36. E] virtuous,

p. =116=, l. 6. C-E _omit_] here l. 7. E] scohlar l. 18. C-E] if our l.
24. A-D] a comes l. 30. A-D] shee is l. 35. A and B] would ye

p. =117=, l. 3. E] Peticoats, and Foreparts l. 5. C-E] compliment?
l. 10. E] stockins C-E] silk. l. 11. A and B] they are a the best
of wooll, and they cleeped jersey. C and D] they are of the best of
wooll, and they clyped Jersey. E] they're of the best of Wooll, and the
clipped Jersey l. 16. A and B] their bookes l. 39. C-E] Poesies, for

p. =118=, l. 4. A-D] a have l. 13. C-E] I have l. 21. C-E] _Laz._
Whereabouts l. 23. C-E] because of l. 31. A-D] durst a said

p. =119=, l. 4. E] unsatisfied, shall l. 11. A and B] upon yee l. 14.
C-E] back, again fall l. 17. E] meet

p. =120=, l. 2. C-E] Sphear l. 4. C-E] then l. 13. C-E] before l. 30.
C-E] what good l. 34. A-D] does a l. 36. A and B] is rich

p. =121=, l. 1. A and B] is thine l. 2. A-D] a were C-E] Indenture l.
3. A-D] a bee a the l. 7. C-E _omit_] free l. 14. C-E] my l. 16. A and
B _omit stage direction_. l. 17. A-D] a comes l. 25. C-E] Fair Sir: I
thank ye? l. 35. A and B] feed ye

p. =122=, l. 10. A and B] will ye l. 14. E _omits_] so l. 16. E]
afflictions l. 21. E] _Laz._ This kiss is yours, l. 28. C-E] hold l.
37. A-D] a should l. 39. A-D] a cal'd

p. =123=, l. 37. C-E] to be one l. 37. C-E _omit_] same

p. =124=, l. 2. C-E _omit_] have l. 37. C-E] thought

p. =126=, l. 26. E] bandstring l. 27. E] send

p. =127=, l. 21. A-D] this seven yeares l. 31. C-E] wind l. 39. A-D]
fetch am

p. =128=, l. 4. A and B] All readie?

p. =129=, l. 9. C-E _omit_] have l. 15. A-E] to bee hang'd, with
silence yet l. 32. E] ahd l. 33. C-E _omit_] now l. 34. A and B] so
forward

p. =130=, l. 4. E] _1 Int._ l. 6. C-E _omit_] other l. 27. C and D]
Scena 3 E] _Scæna Tertia_ l. 30. E _omits_] again

p. =131=, l. 2. A and B] wilfull, ignorant, | Of your owne nakednes,
did l. 24. A] dar'st to turne B] dar'st ta turne

p. =132=, l. 7. E] goldeu l. 8. A-D] it l. 16. A and B] whome have ye
guarded hether C-E] who l. 22. A and B] a hath l. 25. E] have l. 28.
C-E] shall

p. =133=, l. 27. C-E] what l. 34. E] brings

p. =134=, l. 2. A] that the l. 23. E] neighbors, l. 38. C-E _omit_] most

p. =135=, l. 10. C-E] longing l. 11. A-D] there is l. 18. C-E] my l.
34. A and B] not longer

p. =137=, l. 3. E] good. l. 8. C-E] up, l. 13. A-D] you are l. 32. C-E
_omit_] it l. 34. A-D] deserve it. l. 35. A-E] too

p. =138=, l. 15. B] feast at all C-E] feast all l. 16. A] be small l.
16. B _omits_] if l. 18. A and B] it betweene l. 20. A and B] heavens
guard the tother C and D] the tother l. 22. E _prints_] _Duke from_
_above_ at end of line as stage direction. l. 23. B-E] What I?

p. =139=, l. 3. A and B] ye can l. 13. A and B] talents l. 18. A and B]
give to you l. 26. C-E] make l. 29. A and B] Gundele C and D] Gondele
l. 34. E] _Cond._ l. 40. A-D] a part

p. =140=, l. 5. A and B] assist ye l. 10. E] foft l. 16. A-D] do, if a
should E] do; if he should l. 18. A-D] if a cou'd get a knife, sure a
wo'd l. 19. A-D] a wo'd doe l. 24. A and B] stomack rawe

p. =141=, l. 5. B-E] them on her l. 11. E] thy l. 34. C-E] does your
Lordship?

p. =142=, l. 14. A-E] Whether l. 22. E] wrongfully, the l. 25. C-E]
meditate l. 26. E] Time will call l. 29. C-E] are most merciful


NICE VALOUR.

                 =A= = First folio. =B= = Second folio.

(=A=) THE | NICE VALOUR, | or, | The Passionate Mad-man.

p. =143=. A _omits all after l. 2_.

p. =144=, l. 3. B] suffrage l. 10. B] 'twos

p. =145=, l. 5. B] repuations l. 8. A] I ha' l. 12. B] valour; no
virtue; l. 18. B] ot

p. =146=, l. 5. A] 'Has l. 7. A] 'Had l. 18. B] faithlfuly

p. =147=, l. 35. B] enemy?

p. =148=, l. 22. A] I am

p. =149=, l. 2. A _omits_] Lady, _at end_ l. 3. A and B _omit_] _1
Gent. at beginning_ l. 22. A] I am

p. =150=, l. 2. B] too

p. =151=, l. 40. A] the equality

p. =153=, l. 15. B] us, than

p. =154=, l. 6. B] hie l. 7. B] amoroesly l. 8. B] _Shvm_ l. 18. B] is

p. =157=, l. 5. B] _Women_, l. 18. B] time, make

p. =158=, l. 23. A] an' that l. 29. A] This sute l. 36. A and B] him?

p. =161=, l. 16. A] wrested l. 22. B] sword.

p. =162=, l. 5. B] diff'rence, 'twixt l. 11. B] me, brings

p. =163=, l. 24. A] beaten e'ne

p. =164=, l. 3. B] same l. 32. A] 'Has

p. =165=, l. 15. B] thot l. 27. B] _I_, doubt l. 36. B] may may

p. =167=, l. 11. B] Tables l. 32. B] thon

p. =169=, l. 15. B] lame l. 28. B] supper;

p. =170=, l. 6. B] puddings. l. 11. A] Any your

p. =171=, l. 38. B] _see 't._

p. =173=, l. 5. B] _Dap._

p. =174=, l. 22. B] Song? l. 35. B _omits_] nine

p. =175=, l. 12. B] earth. l. 20. B] strength trust l. 21. B _omits_
_this line_ l. 40. B] I shall

p. =176=, l. 6. B] he l. 31. A] 'Death

p. =177=, l. 27. B] heir l. 34. A] durst

p. =178=, l. 11. B] _Duke_ l. 25. B] Gentleman l. 27. B] agen. l. 30.
A] _other_

p. =179=, l. 9. A] any anger l. 38. B] and I will

p. =180=, l. 15. B] you l. 17. A] hox

p. =182=, l. 15. A] this five yeare

p. =183=, l. 22. B] upon me. l. 31. B] Yov l. 37. B] _2 Gen._ l. 39. B]
Sir.

p. =184=, l. 23. B] kick

p. =186=, l. 17. B] in l. 20. B] thick. l. 34. B] god

p. =187=, l. 18. B] _Ha, ha, ha, ha._

p. =188=, l. 2. A] _Now I_ l. 9. B] Pas. l. 15. B] _other, like fools_
_dancing,_

p. =191=, l. 16. B] pleasingly.

p. =192=, l. 3. B] _Almanacks._

p. =193=, l. 36. B] _1 Duke._

p. =196=, l. 8. B] However l. 9. B] confess, it,

p. =198=, l. 6. A] _he is_ l. 6. B] _writ._


BEAUMONT'S LETTER.

                 =A= = First folio. =B= = Second folio.

p. =199=, l. 1. A] M. _Francis_ l. 2. A] Master _Fletcher_ l. 8. A]
_see, however absent is,_ l. 9. B] _Hay-makers_ l. 11. B] _Ile and_ l.
23. B] Rob. l. 26. A] _Providence, keeps_ l. 27. B] _knights_

p. =200=, l. 2. B _omits_] happy [_Should have been printed in italics_]

p. =201=, l. 7. B] _Ketches_


THE HONEST MAN'S FORTUNE.

                 =A= = First folio. =B= = Second folio.

p. =202=. A _omits all after l. 2_.

p. =203=, l. 2. A] Orleans l. 9. B] brotherhood, had

p. =204=, l. 24. B] rhe l. 32. B] Where-ever l. 37. B] _Longuezille_

p. =205=, l. 6. B] hehaviour

p. =206=, l. 17. B] _Mrnt._

p. =207=, l. 3. B] if he l. 7. B] You're l. 16. B _repeats_] A member
as to lose the use--

p. =208=, l. 13. B] outside, would l. 24. A] with labour sir,

p. =209=, l. 26. A] of this l. 27. B] merciful l. 29. B] people, that

p. =210=, l. 7. B] _Lang._ l. 23. A] thought, had

p. =211=, l. 33. A] our eyes.

p. =212=, l. 13. B] say; l. 22. B] matter:

p. =213=, l. 3. A] Defence is never l. 5. B] the Girdler, or the l. 26.
B] Beholding, terrify l. 33. B] it, shall

p. =214=, l. 5. B] you silences l. 13. B] report, you l. 16. B] to l.
25. B] charitable l. 34. B] cloths

p. =215=, l. 2. B] I'll l. 24. B] Heaven

p. =216=, l. 1. A] knowest l. 2. B] I'm

p. =217=, l. 8. B] _Montague_, had l. 23. A _omits the stage
direction_. l. 24. A] _Enter Amiens_ l. 38. B] word

p. =218=, l. 16. B] Heaven. l. 33. B] parsuade

p. =219=, l. 1. A] Then that thou hast l. 2. A] enemie l. 33. A] Or
kisses

p. =220=, l. 3. B] one l. 4. B] parsuade A] the force. l. 19. B] you?
l. 34. B] _Leng._

p. =221=, l. 21. B] do; l. 31. B] it we

p. =222=, l. 4. A] Greater l. 16. A] A bullet; if you be Captain, my l.
21. B] _Lau._

p. =223=, l. 33. A and B] Citizen.

p. =225=, l. 8. A] it seise l. 21. A] certainest

p. =226=, l. 9. A and B] _Whithin_ l. 18. A] for if, thou hadst have l.
26. B] Orleans, is

p. =227=, l. 21. B] I'll l. 34. A and B] _Duboyes?_ l. 35. B] hand, hast

p. =228=, l. 7. B] _Ori._ l. 13. A] women they rayle, out right. B]
women; they rayl out right. l. 16. A] pritty | Jelly. l. 17. A] gallant
l. 21. B] too to,

p. =229=, l. 4. B _omits_] God l. 11. A] he's a

p. =230=, l. 15. A] a merry l. 18. B] reason

p. =231=, l. 6. B] dost not

p. =233=, l. 22. A] free out the

p. =234=, l. 4. B] tel I

p. =235=, l. 9. A and B] ous

p. =237=, l. 12. A] received for ll. 15-16. A] tale-man

p. =238=, l. 2. B] Heaven

p. =239=, l. 3. A] seem to me unapt l. 13. B] dream;

p. =240=, l. 32. B] wIll l. 36. A] Trouble most willingly;

p. =241=, l. 5. A] showed upon l. 6. B] preformance l. 9. A] make of
one which my state l. 13. A] tell me, prevent your further l. 16. B]
_Orleane_ l. 37. A] hath brought

p. =242=, l. 3. A] about all safe l. 5. A] deserve a B] deserves, a l.
16. A] makes l. 25. A] Crohieture l. 28. B] foot-cloaths, durst l. 37.
A] ha'.

p. =243=, l. 13. B] if I may l. 23. A _omits stage direction_

p. =245=, l. 10. A] _Charlo, Veramour, salute._ B] _aud_ Voramour, l.
23. B] derseved l. 28. B] pleased; l. 35. B] mine?

p. =246=, l. 3. B] Which is as it l. 28. B] tongue l. 30. B] cozenages
l. 32. A] tell you l. 39. B] like I y,

p. =247=, l. 36. A] had done

p. =248=, l. 29. B] gentler

p. =249=, l. 10. B] boy but is wanting l. 34. B] lie

p. =250=, l. 16. B] quenceh

p. =251=, l. 4. A] _Enter Veramour with Counters_ l. 7. B] merry) or l.
16. B] tencher l. 18. B] Heaven l. 19. B] Heaven

p. =252=, l. 6. B] disconrse l. 7. A] of Wormes make l. 27. B] l. 40.
B] up all all the

p. =253=, l. 3. B] Gentlewoman? l. 30. B] _Chal._

p. =254=, l. 8. B] jealons l. 13. B] go. Sir; l. 14. B] Heaven l. 17.
B] will

p. =255=, l. 9. A] white cheeke

p. =257=, l. 25. A] Sea-service l. 31. A] o'us l. 34. B] troulesomest

p. =258=, l. 17. B] will he l. 26. A] a raile but my Swords bredth,
upon a battlement, B] battlement.

p. =259=, l. 12. B] ths l. 31. B] treason l. 36. A] _their Swords_. l.
39. B] So,

p. =260=, l. 9.?] _see to_ l. 11. B] Out-loathed l. 26. B _omits_]
_Lam._ l. 34. B] dye l. 36. A] their

p. =261=, l. 2. B] Out-howling l. 4. A] countenance l. 7. B] thon l.
15. A] of devils

p. =262=, l. 25. B] Heaven

p. =263=, l. 3. B] feel? l. 15. A] I am l. 17. B] _Lan._ l. 26. B] Ha'
my

p. =264=, l. 19. B] no, worse l. 23. A] and a black

p. =266=, l. 1. B] Heaven l. 29. B] offended.

p. =268=, l. 1. B] dog-whip? l. 38. B] Heaven

p. =270=, l. 36. A] Stur your

p. =271=, l. 6. B] _Lam._ l. 28. A and B] too B] rgainst

p. =272=, l. 16. B] lik l. 21. B] company,

p. =273=, l. 1. B] married and l. 7. A] credit which is worse cannot l.
17. B] understand, love l. 19. B] the l. 25. B] Heaven l. 32. A] Nay

p. =274=, l. 31. B] Hell l. 31. A] _Dunkirks_

p. =275=, l. 7. B] _Lov._ l. 7. B] Heaven l. 8. B] _Montagne_ l. 24. B]
new

p. =276=, l. 18. B _omits_] God l. 39. B] Sea-works

p. =277=, l. 1. A] me on l. 2. A] Right Courtier

p. =279=, l. 19. A] _Command_ B] _Command's_

p. =280=, l. 13. B] _For_ l. 28. B] _knows_ l. 31. B] _hear_


THE MASQUE OF THE GENTLEMEN OF GRAYS-INNE AND THE INNER-TEMPLE.

The quarto is as follows:

THE | MASQUE | OF THE INNER | TEMPLE AND GRAYES | INNE: | GRAYES INNE
AND THE IN-|NER TEMPLE, PRESENTED BEFORE | his Majestie, the Queenes
Majestie, the Prince, Count | _Palatine and the Lady Elizabeth their
Highnesses, in_ | the Banquetting house at White-hall on Sa-|turday
the twentieth day of Fe-|bruarie, 1612. | _AT LONDON,_ | Imprinted
by _F.K._ for _George Norton_, and are to be | at his shoppe neere
Temple-bar.

THE MASKE OF | THE INNER TEMPLE AND | GRAYES INNE, GRAYES INNE | and
the Inner Temple, presented before his | _Majestie, the Queenes, &c._

This Maske was appointed to have beene presented the Shrove-tuesday
before, at which time the Maskers with their attendants and divers
others gallant young Gentlemen of both houses, as their convoy, set
forth from Winchester house which was the _Rende vous_ towards the
Court, about seven of the clocke at night.

This voyage by water was performed in great Triumph. The gentlemen
Maskers being placed by themselves in the Kings royall barge with the
rich furniture of state, and adorned with a great number of lights
placed in such order as might make best shew.

They were attended with a multitude of barges and gallies, with all
variety of lowde Musicke, and severall peales of Ordnance. And led by
two Admiralls.

Of this shew his Majesty was gratiously pleased to take view, with
the Prince, the Count _Palatine_, and the Lady _Elizabeth:_ their
highnesses at the windowes of his privy gallerie upon the water, till
their landing, which was at the privy staires: where they were most
honorablie received by the Lord Chamberlaine, and so conducted to the
Vestry.

The Hall was by that time filled with company of very good fashion, but
yet so as a very great number of principall Ladies, and other noble
persons were not yet come in, wherby it was foreseen that the roome
would be so scanted as might have been inconvenient. And there upon his
Majesty was most gratiously pleased with the consent of the gentlemen
Maskers, to put off the night until Saturday following with this
special favour and priviledge, that there should bee no let, as to the
outward ceremony of magnificence untill that time.

At the day that it was presented, there was a choice roome reserved
for the gentlemen, of both their houses, who comming in troope about
seven of the clocke, received that speciall honor and noble favour, as
to be brought to their places, by the Right Honourable the Earle of
Northampton, Lord Privie Seale.

TO THE WORTHIE | SIR FRANCIS BACON, HIS MA-|JESTIES SOLLICITOR
GENE-|rall, and the grave and learned Bench of | the anciently allied
houses of Grayes | Inne, and the Inner Temple, the Inner | _Temple, and
Grayes Inne._

_Yee that spared no time nor travell, in the setting forth, ordering,
& furnishing of this Masque, being the first fruits of honor in this
kinde, which these two societies have offered to his Majestie: Will
not thinke much now to looke backe upon the effects of your owne care
and worke: for that whereof the successe was then doubtfull, is now
happily performed and gratiously accepted. And that which you were
then to thinke of in straites of time, you may now peruse at leysure.
And you Sir_ Francis Bacon _especially, as you did then by your
countenance, and loving affection advance it, so let your good word
grace it, and defend it, which is able to adde value to the greatest,
and least matters._

               THE DEVISE OR | ARGUMENT OF THE | MASQUE.

_Jupiter_ and _Juno_ willing to doe honour to the Mariage of the
two famous Rivers _Thamesis_ and _Rhene_, imploy their Messengers
severally, _Mercurie_ and _Iris_ for that purpose. They meete and
contend: then _Mercurie_ for his part brings forth an Anti-masque all
of Spirits or divine Natures: but yet not of one kinde or liverie
(because that had been so much in use heretofore) but as it were in
consort like to broken Musicke. And preserving the proprietie of the
devise; for that Rivers in nature are maintained either by Springs from
beneath, or Shewers from above: He raiseth foure of the _Naiades_ out
of the Fountaines, and bringeth downe five of the _Hyades_ out of the
Cloudes to daunce; hereupon _Iris_ scoffes at _Mercurie_ for that hee
had devised a daunce but of one Sexe, which could have no life: but
_Mercurie_ who was provided for that exception, and in token that the
Match should be blessed both with Love and Riches calleth forth out of
the Groves foure _Cupids_, and brings downe from _Jupiters_ Altar foure
_Statuaes_ of gold and silver to daunce with the Nymphes and Starres:
in which daunce the _Cupids_ being blinde, and the _Statuaes_ having
but halfe life put into them, and retaining still somewhat of their old
nature, giveth fit occasion to new and strange varieties both in the
Musick and paces. This was the first Anti-masque.

Then _Iris_ for her part in scorne of this high flying devise, and in
token that the Match shall likewise be blessed with the love of the
Common People, calles to _Flora_ her confederate (for that the Moneths
of flowers are likewise the Moneths of sweete shewers, and Raine-bowes)
to bring in a May-daunce or Rurall daunce, consisting likewise not
of any suted persons, but of a confusion, or commixture of all such
persons as are naturall and proper for Countrey sports. This is the
second Anti-masque.

Then _Mercurie_ and _Iris_ after this vying one upon the other, seeme
to leave their contention: and _Mercurie_ by the consent of _Iris_
brings downe the _Olympian_ Knights, intimating that _Jupiter_ having
after a long discontinuance revived the _Olympian_ games, and summoned
thereunto from all parts the liveliest, & activest persons that were,
had enjoyned them before they fell to their games to doe honour to
these Nuptials. The _Olympian_ games portend to the Match, Celebritie,
Victorie, and Felicitie. This was the maine Masque.

The Fabricke was a Mountaine with two descents, and severed with two
Travesses.

                     _At the entrance of the King._

The first Travers was drawne, and the lower descent of the Mountaine
discovered; which was the Pendant of a hill to life, with divers
boscages and Grovets upon the steepe or hanging grounds thereof, and at
the foote of the Hill, foure delicate Fountaines running with water and
bordered with sedges and water flowers.

_Iris_ first appeared, and presently after _Mercurie_ striving to
overtake her.

_Iris_ apparelled in a robe of discoulored Taffita figured in variable
colours, like the Raine-bowe, a cloudie wreath on her head, and Tresses.

_Mercurie_ in doublet and hose of white Taffita, a white hat, wings on
his shoulders and feet, his Caduceus in his hand, speaking to _Iris_ as
followeth.

                      MERCURIE.

    Stay, Stay.
    Stay light foot _Iris_, for thou strivest in vaine,
    My wings are nimbler then thy feete.

                         IRIS.

        Away,
    Dissembling _Mercury_; my messages
    Aske honest haste, not like those wanton ones
    Your thundring father sends.

                        MERCURIE.

    Stay foolish Maid,
    Or I will take my rise upon a hill,
    When I perceive thee seated in a cloud,
    In all the painted glorie that thou hast,
    And never cease to clap my willing wings,
    Till I catch hold of thy discolour'd Bow,
    And shiver it beyond the angry power
    Of your curst Mistresse, to make up againe.

                            IRIS.

    _Hermes_ forbeare, _Juno_ will chide and strike;
    Is great _Jove_ jealous that I am imploy'd
    On her love errands? she did never yet
    Claspe weake mortalitie in her white armes,
    As he hath often done: I onely come
    To celebrate the long wisht Nuptials,
    Heere in _Olympia_, which are now perform'd
    Betwixt two goodly Rivers, which have mixt
    Their gentle rising waves, and are to grow
    Into a thousand streames, great as themselves;
    I need not name them, for the sound is lowde
    In heaven and earth, and I am sent from her
    The Queene of Mariage, that was present heere,
    And smil'd to see them joyne, and hath not chid
    Since it was done: good _Hermes_ let me go.

                        MERCURIE.

    Nay you must stay, _Joves_ message is the same,
    Whose eies are lightning, and whose voice is thunder,
    Whose breath is any winde, he will, who knowes
    How to be first on earth as well as heaven.

                          IRIS.

    But what hath he to doe with Nuptiall rights?
    Let him keepe state upon his starry throne,
    And fright poore mortals with his thunderbolts,
    Leaving to us the mutuall darts of eyes.

                        MERCURIE.

    Alas, when ever offer'd he t'abridge
    Your Ladies power, but onely now in these,
    Whose match concernes his generall government?
    Hath not each god a part in these high joyes?
    And shall not he the King of gods presume
    Without proud _Junoes_ licence? let her know
    That when enamor'd _Jove_ first gave her power
    To linke soft hearts in Undissolved bonds,
    He then foresaw, and to himselfe reserv'd
    The honor of this Mariage: thou shalt stand
    Still as a Rocke, while I to blesse this feast
    Will summon up with my all charming rod,
    The Nymphes of fountains, from whose watry locks
    Hung with the dew of blessing and encrease,
    The greedie Rivers take their nourishment.
    You Nymphes, who bathing in your loved springs,
    Beheld these Rivers in their infancie,
    And joy'd to see them, when their circled heads
    Refresht' the aire, and spread the ground with flowers:
    Rise from your Wells, and with your nimble feete
    Performe that office to this happie paire;
    Which in these plaines, you to _Alpheus_ did;
    When passing hence through many seas unmixt,
    He gained the favour of his _Arethuse_.

                      Immediatlie upon which speech foure _Naiades_
                          arise gentlie out of their severall
                          Fountaines, and present themselves upon the
                          Stage, attired in long habits of sea-greene
                          Taffita, with bubbles of Christall intermixt
                          with powdering of silver resembling drops
                          of water; blewish Tresses on their heads,
                          garlands of Water-Lillies. They fall into a
                          Measure, daunce a little, then make a stand.

                        IRIS.

    Is _Hermes_ growne a lover, by what power
    Unknowne to us, calls he the _Naiades?_

                        MERCURIE.

    Presumptuous _Iris_, I could make thee daunce
    Till thou forgott'st thy Ladies messages,
    And rann'st backe crying to her, thou shall know
    My power is more, onely my breath, and this
    Shall move fix'd starres, and force the firmament
    To yeeld the _Hyades_, who governe showers,
    And dewie clouds, in whose dispersed drops
    Thou form'st the shape of thy deceitfull Bow.
    You maids, who yearely at appointed times,
    Advance with kindly teares, the gentle flouds,
    Descend, and powre your blessing on these streames,
    Which rolling downe from heaven aspiring hils,
    And now united in the fruitfull vales;
    Beare all before them ravisht with their joy,
    And swell in glorie till they know no bounds.

                      Five _Hyades_ descend softly in a cloud from the
                          firmament, to the middle part of the hill,
                          apparelled in skie coloured Taffita robes,
                          spangled like the Heavens, golden Tresses,
                          and each a faire Starre on their head, from
                          thence descend to the Stage, at whose sight
                          the _Naiades_ seeming to rejoyce, meete and
                          joyne in a dance.

                        IRIS.

    Great witte and power hath _Hermes_ to contrive
    A livelesse dance, which of one sexe consists.

                        MERCURIE.

    Alas poore _Iris_, _Venus_ hath in store
    A secret Ambush of her winged boyes,
    Who lurking long within these pleasant groves;
    First strucke these Lovers with their equall darts,
    Those _Cupids_ shall come forth, and joyne with these,
    To honor that which they themselves begun.

                      Enter foure _Cupids_ from each side of the
                          Boscage, attired in flame coloured Taffita
                          close to their bodie like naked Boyes, with
                          Bowes, Arrowes, and wings of gold: Chaplets
                          of flowers on their heads, hoodwinckt with
                          Tiffiny scarfs, who joyne with the Nymphes,
                          and the _Hyades_ in another daunce. That
                          ended, _Iris_ speakes.

                        IRIS.

    Behold the Statuaes which wise _Vulcan_ plac'd
    Under the Altar of Olympian _Jove_,
    Shall daunce for joy of these great Nuptialls:
    And gave to them an Artificiall life,
    See how they move, drawne by this heavenly joy,
    Like the wilde trees, which follow'd _Orpheus_ Harpe.

                      The _Statuaes_ enter, supposed to be before
                          descended from _Joves_ Altar, and to have
                          been prepared in the covert with the
                          _Cupids_, attending their call.

These _Statuaes_ were attired in cases of gold and silver close to
their bodie, faces, hands and feete, nothing seene but gold and silver,
as if they had been solid Images of mettall, Tresses of haire as they
had been of mettall imbossed, girdles and small aprons of oaken leaves,
as if they likewise had been carved or molded out of the mettall: at
their comming, the Musicke changed from Violins to Hoboyes, Cornets,
&c. And the ayre of the Musicke was utterly turned into a soft time,
with drawing notes, excellently expressing their natures, and the
Measure likewise was fitted unto the same, and the _Statuaes_ placed
in such severall postures, sometimes all together in the Center of the
daunce, and sometimes in the foure utmost Angles, as was very gracefull
besides the noveltie: and so concluded the first Anti-masque.

                    MERCURIE.

    And what will _Junoes Iris_ do for her?

                          IRIS.

    Just match this shew; or my Invention failes,
    Had it beene worthier, I would have invok'd
    The blazing Comets, Clouds and falling Starres,
    And all my kindred Meteors of the Ayre
    To have excell'd it, but I now must strive
    To imitate Confusion, therefore thou
    Delightfull _Flora_, if thou ever felt'st
    Encrease of sweetnesse in those blooming plants,
    On which the homes of my faire bow decline;
    Send hither all the Rurall company,
    Which decke the May-games with their Countrey sports;
    _Juno_ will have it so.

               The second Anti-masque rush in, daunce their Measure, and
                               as rudely depart, consisting of a Pedant.

  May Lord,                          May Lady.
  Servingman,                        Chambermaide.
  A Countrey Clowne, or Shepheard,   Countrey Wench.
  An Host,                           Hostesse.
  A Hee Baboone,                     Shee Baboone.
  A Hee Foole,                       Shee Foole ushering them in.

                      All these persons apparelled to the life, the
                          Men issuing out of one side of the Boscage,
                          and the Woemen from the other: the Musicke
                          was extremely well fitted, having such a
                          spirit of Countrey jolitie, as can hardly be
                          imagined, but the perpetuall laughter and
                          applause was above the Musicke.

The dance likewise was of the same strain, and the Dancers, or rather
Actors expressed every one their part so naturally, and aptly, as when
a Mans eye was caught with the one, and then past on to the other, hee
could not satisfie himselfe which did best. It pleased his Majestie
to call for it againe at the end, as he did likewise for the first
Anti-masque, but one of the _Statuaes_ by that time was undressed.

                      MERCURIE.

    _Iris_ we strive,
    Like windes at libertie, who should do worst
    Ere we returne. If _Juno_ be the Queene
    Of Mariage, let her give happie way
    To what is done, in honor of the State
    She governes.

                          IRIS.

    _Hermes,_ so it may be done
    Meerely in honor of the State, and these
    That now have prov'd it, not to satisfie
    The lust of _Jupiter_, in having thankes
    More then his _Juno_, if thy snakie rod
    Have power to search the heavens, or sound the sea,
    Or call together all the ends of earth,
    To bring in any thing that may do grace
    To us, and these; do it, we shall be pleas'd.

                      MERCURY.

    Then know that from the mouth of _Jove_ himselfe,
    Whose words have wings, and need not to be borne;
    I tooke a message, and I bare it through
    A thousand yeelding clouds, and never stai'd
    Till his high will was done: the Olympian games
    Which long have slept, at these wish'd Nuptials,
    He pleas'd to have renew'd, and all his Knights
    Are gathered hither, who within their tents
    Rest on this hill, upon whose rising head.
    Behold _Joves_ Altar, and his blessed Priests
    Moving about it: come you holy men,
    And with your voices draw these youthes along,
    That till _Joves_ musicke call them to their games,
    Their active sports may give a blest content
    To those, for whom they are againe begun.

       *       *       *       *       *

                          _The Maine Masque._

The second Travers is drawne, and the higher ascent of the Mountaine
is discovered, wherein upon a levell after a great rise of the Hill,
were placed two Pavilions: open in the front of them, the Pavilions
were to sight as of cloth of gold, and they were trimmed on the inside
with rich Armour and Militarie furniture hanged up as upon the walles,
and behind the Tents there were represented in prospective, the tops of
divers other Tents, as if it had been a Campe. In these Pavilions were
placed fifteene _Olympian_ Knights, upon seates a little imbowed neere
the forme of a Croisant, and the Knights appeared first, as consecrated
persons all in vailes, like to Coapes, of silver Tiffinie, gathered,
and falling a large compasse about them, and over their heads high
Miters with long pendants behind falling from them, the Miters were
so high, that they received their hats and feathers, that nothing was
seene but vaile: in the midst betweene both the Tents upon the very top
of the hill, being a higher levell then that of the Tents, was placed
_Jupiters_ Altar gilt, with three great Tapers upon golden Candlesticks
burning upon it: and the foure _Statuaes_, two of gold, and two of
silver, as supporters, and _Jupiters_ Priests in white robes about it.

Upon the sight of the King, the vailes of the Knights did fall easilie
from them, and they appeared in their owne habit.

                         _The Knights attire._

Arming doublets of Carnation satten embrodered with Blazing Starres
of silver plate, with powderings of smaller Starres betwixt, gorgets
of silver maile, long hose of the same, with the doublets laide with
silver lace spangled, and enricht with embroderie betweene the lace:
Carnation silke stockins imbrodered all over, garters and roses
sutable: Pumpes of Carnaiton satten imbrodered as the doublets, hats
of the same stuffe and embroderie cut like a helmet before, the hinder
part cut into Scallops, answering the skirts of their doublets: the
bands of the hats were wreathes of silver in forme of garlands of wilde
Olives, white feathers with one fall of Carnation, Belts of the same
stuffe and embrodered with the doublet: Silver swords, little Italian
bands and cuffes embrodered with silver, faire long Tresses of haire.

                         _The Priests habits._

Long roabes of white Taffita, long white heads of haire. The high
Priest a cap of white silke shagge close to his head, with two labels
at the eares, the midst rising in forme of a Pyramis, in the top
thereof a branch of silver, every Priest playing upon a Lute: twelve in
number.

                      The Priests descend and sing this song following,
                          after whom the Knights likewise descend:
                          first laying aside their vailes, belts, and
                          swords.

                  The first Song.

    _Shake off your heavy traunce,_
      _And leape into a daunce,_
    _Such as no mortals use to treade,_
          _Fit only for_ Apollo
    _To play to, for the Moone to lead,_
          _And all the Starres to follow._

                      The Knights by this time are all descended and
                          fallen into their place, and then daunce
                          their first Measure.

                  The second Song.

    _On blessed youthes, for_ Jove _doth pause_
      _Laying aside his graver lawes_
          _For this device,_
    _And at the wedding such a paire,_
    _Each daunce is taken for a praier,_
          _Each song a sacrifice._

                The Knights daunce their second Measure.

                The third Song.

                    Single.

    _More pleasing were these sweet delights,_
    _If Ladies mov'd as well as Knights;_
    _Runne ev'ry one of you and catch_
    _A Nymph in honor of this match;_
    _And whisper boldly in her eare,_
    _Jove will but laugh, if you forsweare._

                            All.

        _And this dayes sinnes he doth resolve_
        _That we his Priests should all absolve._

                      The Knights take their Ladies to daunce with them
                          Galliards, Durets, Corantoes, &c. and leade
                          them to their places. Then loude Musicke
                          sound's, supposed to call them to their
                          _Olympian_ games.

                  The fourth Song.

    _Ye should stay longer if we durst,_
    _Away, alas that he that first_
    _Gave Time wilde wings to fly away,_
    _Hath now no power to make him stay._
    _But though these games must needs be plaid,_
    _I would this Paire, when they are laid,_
          _And not a creature nie them,_
    _Could catch his scythe, as he doth passe,_
    _And cut his wings, and breake his glasse,_
          _And keepe him ever by them._

                      The Knights daunce their parting Measure and
                          ascend, put on their Swords and Belts, during
                          which time the Priests sing the fifth and
                          last Song.

    _Peace and silence be the guide_
    _To the Man, and to the Bride,_
    _If there be a joy yet new_
    _In mariage, let it fall on you,_
          _That all the world may wonder._
    _If we should stay, we should doe worse,_
    _And turne our blessing to a curse,_
          _By keeping you asunder._

                                 FINIS.

       =Q= = Quarto.    =A= = First folio.    =B= = Second folio.

p. =281=, l. 6. A] at White-hall l. 12. B] loot l. 21. B] glory, l. 22.
A and B] wing l. 23. A and B] on l. 25. A and B] mad

p. =282=, l. 7. A and B] that l. 8. A and B] winding l. 17. A and B]
airy l. 18. A and B] in l. 20. A and B] sit pleas'd l. 23. B] offer'd,
l. 24. A and B] now, l. 25. A and B] the l. 29. B] firk l. 30. A and B]
undissolving bands l. 38. A and B] Yea

p. =283=, l. 10. A and B] Maids l. 19. A and B] Yea l. 31. A and B]
lively l. 39. B] _the_

p. =284=, l. 4. A and B _omit this line_. l. 11. A and B] mine
inventions fail l. 14. B] kindred, Meteors l. 20. A and B] that l. 21.
A and B] clownish l. 23. A and B] _rusheth in, they dance_ l. 32. A and
B] those l. 38. A and B] thee

p. =285=, l. 2. A and B] bore l. 5. A and B] had l. 9. B] _Priests_

p. =286=, l. 9. B] that, l. 12. A and B] _You_ l. 15. A and B] _H'as_
l. 16. A and B] _And_ l. 17. A and B] _these_ l. 19. A and B] _Might_
l. 21. A and B] _clip_ l. 25. B] _yet_


FOUR PLAYS IN ONE.

                 =A= = First folio. =B= = Second folio.

(=A=) FOUR PLAYS, | OR | Morall Representations, | IN ONE.

p. =287=. A _omits from l_. 2 _on p._ 287 _and the whole of p_. 288.

p. =290=, l. 8. B] you, is l. 20. B] Not l. 39. B] lienaments

p. =291=, l. 17. A] _are Hinshers bare before_ l. 18. A] _Hinsher_

p. =293=, l. 13. B] to a void l. 19. B] did conquer

p. =294=, l. 18. B] prayers. l. 29. B] the

p. =295=, l. 30.?] coarser

p. =296=, l. 31. B] Conqust

p. =297=, l. 28. B] transform'd l. 29. B] gentle

p. =298=, l. 7. B] to ward thee l. 30. B] by

p. =299=, l. 31. B] _Nichodemus I_, ll. 38-39. A] prosecute

p. =300=, l. 10. A and B] _Corin_. l. 16. B] cod-shead

p. =301=, l. 16. B] Tragedion l. 29. B] yoor

p. =302=, l. 8. B] you l. 19. B] house use l. 36. B] _Martius_, had

p. =305=, l. 6. B] than l. 12. B] I'm l. 19. B] I'm

p. =306=, l. 21. B] Maray

p. =307=, l. 19. A] I am l. 33. B] _connot_

p. =308=, l. 31. B] tears?

p. =309=, l. 2. B] know, that l. 32. B] _Ladyes_

p. =310=, l. 5. B] _Martius_, be

p. =311=, l. 19. B] _Exeuni_ l. 23. B] _triumph with_ l. 32. B]
_Ladyes_ l. 35. B] _Scepteron the_

p. =312=, l. 16. B] _shs_

p. =313=, l. 2. B] _affeions_ l. 6. A] _Violane_ l. 7. B] _Gerrerd_ l.
29. A] _Violane_ l. 30. B] yout

p. =314=, l. 11. A] _Violane's_ l. 16. B] away your l. 21. B] mus

p. =315=, l. 4. B _omits the speech in square brackets, and gives the
one following it to Ferd._ l. 34. B] affaris

p. =316=, l. 19. B] bebt l. 22. B] to l. 31. B] estate l. 35. B] than

p. =317=, l. 8. B] prepartion l. 29. B] loook

p. =318=, l. 38. B] pray

p. =320=, l. 3. B] an-old

p. =321=, l. 2. B] weeping

p. =322=, l. 14. B] Iive l. 34. A] lie above

p. =323=, l. 17. B] keys, I'll B] Contract, 1 l. 18. B] _Violanta_ l.
37. B] _Stet._ l. 38. B] _Angel_

p. =324=, l. 6. B] _Angel_

p. =325=, l. 4. B] griefe l. 19. B] too

p. =326=, l. 5. B] cursse

p. =327=, l. 1. B] wash l. 14. B] Gerrard

p. =328=, l. 11. B] _offended._ l. 14. B] _Suff ewith_ l. 20. B]
_whole_ l. 32. B] Uncle o all l. 33. B] piry l. 40. B] _Violanto,_

p. =329=, l. 17. B] M dearest

p. =330=, l. 5. B] _Cer._ l. 10. A] Why? shouldst thou dye, l. 22. A]
States read

p. =331=, l. 14. A] yond'

p. =333=, l. 22. B] Madam

p. =334=, l. 23. B] 't

p. =335=, l. 14. B] blastad l. 30. B] slave! I. and that l. 32. B] me
l. 35. B] be ye

p. =336=, l. 31. B] business. l. 37. A] my ever service here I dedicate

p. =337=, l. 6. B] ---- Oh l. 17. B] _Perolot._ l. 23. B] tried l. 31.
B] roof, is l. 39. B] 1 _Court_

p. =339=, l. 10. B] Oh,! am l. 26. A _omits stage direction._

p. =341=, l. 30. B] Bur l. 31. B] ereature l. 36. B] and

p. =342=, l. 7. B] Iight

p. =343=, l. 2. A] ye onely

p. =344=, l. 2. B] offices l. 26. B] way:, l. 31. B] Perelot

p. =345=, l. 1. B] Iips l. 3. B] not l. 7. B] _Perelot_

p. =347=, l. 3. B] _Lavall._

p. =348=, l. 39. B _omits the line in square brackets._ l. 17. B]
constancie l. 18. B] goodness?

p. =350=, l. 21. B] brim'd l. 38. B] _falls._

p. =351=, l. 8. B] _Perolet_ l. 19. B] a fire l. 22. B] mnst

p. =353=, l. 6. B] vengeaance l. 26. B] em

p. =355=, l. 24. B] _incrib'd_ l. 25. B _omits_] _a_

p. =356=, l. 14. B] l l. 24. B] clappiug l. 33. B] en

p. =357=, l. 19. B] courtisie

p. =358=, l. 18. B] my

p. =359=, l. 1. B] A way l. 8. B] and _Pleasure_ l. 14. B] statuas A]
sweat l. 39. B] my

p. =361=, l. 19. B] with l. 21. B] Iove

p. =362=, l. 26. B] Neve l. 31. B] _&t._

p. =363=, l. 2. B] Lucre, Craft, l. 21. B] want. Strike _Mercury_. l.
24. A] Be done l. 27. B] Lncre

                             END OF VOL. X.





    TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES


    Silently corrected simple spelling, grammar, and typographical
    errors.

    Retained anachronistic and non-standard spellings as printed.

    Enclosed italics markup in _underscores_.

    Enclosed bold markup in =equals=.





End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Beaumont & Fletcher's Works (10 of 10), by 
Francis Beaumont and John Fletcher

*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 50096 ***