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