part I

long to be in _England_ agen; you will never get so much as in _England_, we have shifted many countryes, and many names: but trance the world over you shall never purse up so much gold as when you were in _England_, and call'd your self Doctor _Lambe_-stones.

_Foro._ 'Twas an atractive name I confess, women were then my only admirers.

_Clow._ And all their visits was either to further their lust, or revenge injuries.

_Foro._ You should have forty in a morning beleaguer my closet, and strive who should be cozen'd first, amongst four-score love-sick waiting women that has come to me in a morning to learn what fortune should betide them in their first marriage, I have found above 94 to have lost their maiden-heads.

_Clow._ By their own confession, but I was fain to be your male midwife, and work it out of them by circumstance.

_Foro._ Thou wast, and yet for all this frequent resort of women and thy hand[l]ing of their urinals and their cases, thou art not given to lechery, what should be the reason of it? thou hast wholsome flesh enough about thee; me thinks the divell should tempt thee to't.

_Clow._ What need he do that, when he makes me his instrument to tempt others.

_Foro._ Thou canst not chuse but utter thy rare good parts; thou wast an excellent baud I acknowledge.

_Clow._ Well, and what I have done that way, I will spare to speak of all you and I have done sir, and though we should--

_Foro._ We will for _England_, that's for certain.

_Clow._ We shall never want there.

_Foro._ Want? their Court of Wards shall want money first: for I profess my self Lord Paramount over fools a[n]d madfolkes.

_Clow._ Do but store your self with lyes enough against you come thither.

_Foro._ Why that's all the familiarity I ever had with the Divell, my guift of lying, they say he's the Father of lyes; and though I cannot conjure, yet I profess my self to be one of his poor gossips. I will now reveale to thee a rare peece of service.

_Clow._ What is it my most worshipful Doctor _Lamb_-stones?

_Foro._ There is a Captain come lately from Sea, They call _Prosper_, I saw him this morning Through a chink of wainscote that divides my lodging,

And the Host of the house, withdraw my Host, and Hostess, the fair _Biancha_, and an antient gentlewoman into their bedchamber; I could not overhear their conference, but I saw such a mass of gold & Jewels, & when he had done he lock't it up into a casket; great joy there was amongst them, & forth they are gone into the city, and my Host told me at his going forth he thought he should not return till after supper: now Sir, in their absence will we fall to our picklocks, enter the chamber, seize the Jewels, make an escape from _Florence_, and we are made for ever.

_Clow._ But if they should go to a true conjurer, and fetch us back in a whirle-wind?

_Foro._ Do not believe there is any such fetch in _Astrology_, and this may be a means to make us live honest hereafter.

_Clow._ 'Tis but an ill road to't that lyes through the high way of theeving.

_Foro._ For indeed I am weary of this trade of fortune-telling; and mean to give all over, when I come into _England_, for it is a very ticklish quality.

_Clow._ And i'th' end will hang by a twine thred.

_Foro._ Besides the Island has too many of the profession, they hinder on[e] anothers market.

_Clow._ No, no, the pillory hinders their market.

_Foro._ You know there the jugling captain.

_Clow._ I there's a sure card.

_Foro._ Only the fore-man of their jury is dead, but he dyed like a Roman.

_Clow._ Else 'tis thought he had made work for the hangman.

_Foro._ And the very _Ball_, of your false prophets, he's quasht too.

_Clow._ He did measure the stars with a false yard, and may now travail to _Rome_, with a morter on's head to see if he can recover his money that way.

_Foro._ Come, come, lets fish for this casket, and to Sea presently.

_Clow._ We shall never reach _London_, I fear; My mind runs so much of hanging, landing at _Wapping_. [_Exeunt._

_Enter Mariana._

This well may be a day of joy long wish'd for To my _Clarissa_, she is innocent. Nor can her youth but with an open bosome Meet _Hymens_ pleasing bounties, but to me That am inviron'd with black guilt and horror It does appear a funeral though promising much In the conception were hard to mannage But sad in [the] event, it was not hate But fond indulgence in me to preserve _Cesario's_ threatn'd life in open court Then forc'd me to disclaime him, choosing rather To rob him of his birthright, and honor Than suffer him to run the hazard of Inrag'd _Baptista's_ fury, while he lives; I know I have a Son, and the Dukes sentence A while deluded, and this tempest over, When he assures himself despair hath seiz'd him. [_Knock within._

_Enter Baptista._

I can relieve and raise him--speak, who is it That presses on my privacies? Sir your pardon. You cannot come unwelcome, though it were To read my secret thoughts.

_Bap._ Lady to you Mine shall be ever open; Lady said I, That name keeps too much distance, sister rather I should have stil'd you, and I now may claime it, Since our divided families are made one By this blessed marriage; to whose honor comes The Duke in person, waited on by all The braveries of his Court, to witness it, And then to be our ghests, is the bride ready To meet and entertain him?

_Maria._ She attends the comming of your Son.

_Bap._ Pray you bring her forth. The Duke's at hand--Musick, in her loud voyce, Speaks his arrivall.

_Maria._ She's prepar'd to meet it. [--_Exit._

_Enter_ Mariana, Clarissa, _led by two Maids: at the other_ _door_, Baptista _meets with_ Mentivole, _led by two Cour[t]iers,_ _the Duke, Bishop; divers Attendants: (A Song) whilst_ _they salute_.

_Duke._ It were impertinent to wish you joy, Since all joyes dwell about you, _Hymens_ torch Was never lighted with a luckier _Omen_. Nor burnt with so much splendor, to defer With fruitless compliment, the means to make Your certain pleasures lawful to the world; Since in the union of your hearts they are Confirm'd already: would but argue us A boaster of our favours; to the Temple, And there the sacred knot once ti'd, all triumphs Our Dukedom can afford, shall grace your Nuptials.

_Enter_ Alberto _and_ Cesario.

_Bap._ On there.

_Ment._ I hope it is not in the power Of any to cross us now.

_Alber._ But in the breath Of a wrong'd Father I forbid the Banes.

_Cesar._ What, do you stand at gaze?

_Bap._ Risen from the dead!

_Maria._ Although the Sea had vomited up the Figure In which thy better