Book I

pray with.

_Enter Orleance._

_Orl._ Forbear upon your lives.

_Long._ What are you rouz'd? I hope your Lordship can read (though he stain not his birth with Scholar-ship) doth it not please you now? if you are a right _Mounsieur_, muster up the rest of your attendance, which is a Page, a Cook, a Pander, Coach-man, and a Footman, in these days a great Lords train, pretending I am unworthy to bring you a challenge, instead of answering it, have me kick'd.

_Dub._ If he does, thou deserv'st it.

_Long._ I dare you all to touch me, I'll not stand still, What answer?

_Orl._ That thou hast done to _Amiens_ The office of a faithful friend, which I Would cherish in thee, were he not my foe, How ever since on honourable terms He calls me forth, say I will meet with him, And by _Dubois_ e'r Sun-set make him know The time and place, my swords length, and what ever Scruple of circumstance he can expect.

_Long._ This answer comes unlookt for, fare you well, Finding your temper thus, wou'd I had said less. [_Exit._

_Orl._ Now comes thy love to the test.

_Dub._ My Lord, 'twill hold, And in all dangers prove it self true Gold. [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ Laverdine, La-poop, Malicorn, _servant_.

_Ser._ I will acquaint my Lady with your coming. Please you repose your selves here.

_Mal._ There's a Tester, nay, now I am a wooer, I must be bountiful.

_Ser._ If you would have two three-pences for it Sir, To give some of your kindred as you ride, I'll see if I can get them; we use not (tho servants) to take bribes. [_Ex._

_Lav._ Then thou art unfit to be in office, either in Court or City.

_La-p._ Indeed, corruption is a Tree, whose branches are of an unmeasurable length, they spread every where, and the dew, that drops from thence, hath infected some chairs and stools of authority.

_Mal._ Ah Captain! lay not all the fault upon Officers, you know you can shark, tho you be out of action, witness _Montague_.

_Lav._ Hang him, he's safe enough; you had a hand in it too, and have gained by him; but I wonder you Citizens, that keep so many books, and take such strict accounts for every farthing due to you from others, reserve not so much as a memorandum for the courtesies you receive.

_Mal._ Would you have a Citizen book those? thankfulness is a thing, we are not sworn to in our Indentures: you may as well urge conscience.

_Lav._ Talk no more of such vanities, _Mountague_ is irrecoverably sunk, I would we had twenty more to send after him; the Snake that would be a Dragon, and have wings, must eat; and what implies that, but this, that in this _Cannibal_ age, he that would have the sute of wealth, must not care ---- whom he feeds on? and as I have heard, no flesh battens better, then that of a profest friend; and he that would mount to honor, must not make dainty to use the head of his mother, back of his Father, or neck of his Brother, for ladders to his preferment; for, but observe, and you shall find for the most part, cunning villany sit at a Feast as principal guest, and innocent honesty wait as a contemn'd servant with a trencher.

_La-p._ The Ladies.

_Enter_ Montague _bare-headed_, Lamira, _Lady_ Orleance, Charlotte _a[n]d_ V[e]ramour.

_Mont._ Do ye smell nothing?

_Char._ Not I Sir.

_Mont._ The carrion of knaves is very strong in my nostrils.

_Lav._ We came to admire, and find Fame was a niggard, Which we thought prodigal in our report Before we saw you.

_Lam._ Tush Sir, this Courtship's old.

_La-p._ I'll fight for thee, sweet wench, This is my tongue, and woes for me.

_Lam._ Good man of War, Hands off; if you take me, it must be by siege, Not by an onset; and for your valour, I Think that I have de[ser]ved few enemies, And therefore need it not.

_Mal._ Thou need'st nothing, sweet Lady, but an obsequious husband, and where wilt thou find him, if not in the City? We are true _Muscovites_ to our Wives, and are never better pleased, than when they use us as slaves, bridle and Saddle us; Have me, thou shalt command all my wealth as thine own, thou shalt sit like a Queen in my Ware-house; And my Factors at the return with my ships, shall pay thee tribute of all the rarities of the earth; thou shalt wear gold, feed on delicates, the first Peascods, Strawberries, Grapes, Cherries shall--

_Lam._ Be mine; I apprehend what you would say, Those dainties which the City pays so dear for, The Countrey yields for nothing, and as early; And, credit me, your far-fet viands please not My appetite better than those that are near hand. Then for your promis'd service and subjection To all my humors, when I am your wife, Which [as] it seems, is frequent in the City, I cannot find what pleasure they receive In using their fond Husbands like their Maids; But of this, more hereafter: I accept Your proffer kindly, and yours; my house stands open To entertain you, take your pleasure in it, And ease after your journey.

_La. Orl._ Do you note the boldness of the fellows?

_Lam._ Alas Madam, a Virgin must in this be like a Lawyer, And as he takes all Fees; she must hear all suitors; the One for gain, the other for her mirth; stay with the Gentlemen, we'll to the Orchards.

[_Exeunt_ Lamira, _Lady_ Orleance, Vera. _and_ Charl.

_La-p._ ---- What art thou?

_Mont._ An honest man, though poor; And look they like to monsters, are they so rare?

_Lav._ Rose from the dead.

_Mal._ Do you hear Monsieur _Serviture_, didst thou never hear of one _Montague_, a prodigal gull, that lives about _Paris_?

_Mont._ So Sir.

_Lav._ One that after the loss of his main estate in a Lawsute, bought an Office in the Court.

_La-p._ And should have Letters of _Mart_, to have the _Spanish_ treasure as it came from the _Indies_; were not thou and he twins? put off thy Hat, let me see thy Fore-head.

_Mont._ Though you take priviledge to use your tongue[s], I pray you hold your fingers, 'Twas your base cozenag[e] made me as I am: And were you somewhere else, I would take off This proud film from your eyes, that will not let you, Know I am _Montague_.

_Enter_ Lamira _behind the Arras_.

_Lam._ I will observe this better.

_Lav._ And art thou he? I will do thee grace; give me thy hand: I am glad thou hast taken so good a course; serve God, and please thy Mistriss; if I prove to be thy Master, as I am very like[l]y, I will do for thee.

_Mal._ Faith the fellow's well made for a Serving-man, and will no doubt, carry a chine of Beef with a good grace.

_La-p._ Prethee be careful of me in my chamber, I will remember thee at my departure.

_Mont._ All this I can endure under this roof, And so much owe I her, whose now I am, That no wrong shall incense me to molest, Her quiet house, while you continue here, I will not be ashamed to do you service More than to her, because such is her pleasure. But you that have broke thrice, and fourteen times Compounded for two shillings in the pound, Know I dare kick you in your shop; do you hear? If ever I see _Paris_, though an Army Of musty Murrions, rusty brown Bills and Clubs, Stand for your guard--I have heard of your tricks, And you that smell of Amber at my charge, And triumph in your cheat; well, I may live To meet thee, be it among a troop of such That are upon the fair face of the Court Like running Ulcers, and before thy whore Trampel upon thee.

_La-p._ This a language for a Livery? take heed, I am a Captain.

_Mont._ A Coxcomb are you not? that thou and I, To give proof, which of us dares most, were now In midst of a rough Sea, upon a piece Of a split Ship, where only one might ride,

[Lamira _from the Arras_.

I would--but foolish anger makes me talk Like a Player.

_Lam._ Indeed you act a part Doth ill become you my servant; is this your duty?

_Mont._ I crave your pardon, and will hereafter be more circumspect.

_Lav._ Oh the power of a Womans tongue: it hath done more than we three with our swords durst undertake; put a mad man to silence.

_Lam._ Why sirrah, these are none of your comrades To drink with in the Cellar; one of them For ought you know, may live to be your Master.

_La-p._ There's some comfort yet.

_Lam._ Here's choice of three, a wealthy Merchant.

_Mal._ Hem, she's taken, she hath spy'd my good Calf, And many Ladies chuse their Husbands by that.

_Lam._ A Courtier that's in grace, a valiant Captain, And are these mates for you, away, begone.

_Mont._ I humbly pray you will be pleased to pardon, And to give satisfaction to you Madam, (Although I break my heart) I will confess That I have wrong'd them too, and make submission.

_Lam._ No I'll spare that; go bid the Cook haste supper. [_Exit_ Mont.

_La-p._ Oh brave Lady, thou art worthy to have servants, to be commandress of a Family, that knowest how to use and govern it.

_Lav._ You shall have many Mistresses that will so mistake, as to take their Horse-keepers, and Footmen instead of their Husbands, thou art none of those.

_Mal._ But she that can make distinction of men, and knows when she hath gallants, and fellows of rank and quality in her house--

_Lam._ Gallants indeed, if it be the Gallants fashion To triumph in the miseries of a man, Of which they are the cause: one that transcends (In spight of all that fortune hath, or can be done) A million of such things as you, my doors Stand open to receive all such as wear The shape of Gentlemen, and my gentl[i]er nature (I might say weaker) weighs not the expence Of entertainment; think you I'll forget yet What's due unto my self? do not I know, That you have dealt with poor _Montague_, but like Needy Commanders, cheating Citizens, And perjur'd Courtiers? I am much mov'd, else use not To say so much, if you will bear your selves As fits such, you would make me think you are, You may stay; if not, the way lies before you. [_Exit._

_Mal._ What think you of this Captain?

_La-p._ That this is a bawdy-house, with Pinacles and Turrets, in which this disguised _Montague_ goes to Rut _gratis_, and that this is a landed pandress, and makes her house a brothel for charity.

_Mal._ Come, that's no miracle; but from whence derive you the supposition?

_Lav._ Observe but the circumstance; you all know that in the height of _Mountagues_ prosperity, he did affect, and had his love return'd by this Lady _Orleans_; since her divorcement, and his decay of estate, it is known they have met, not so much as his boy [is] wanting; and that this can be any thing else than a meer plot for their night-work, is above my imagination to conceive.

_Mal._ Nay, it carries probability, let us observe it better, but yet with such caution, as our prying be not discovered; here's all things to be had without cost, and therefore good staying here.

_La-p._ Nay, that's true, I would we might wooe her twenty years, like _Penelopes_ sutors; come _Laverdine_.

[_Exeunt_ Malli. La Poop.

_Lav._ I follow instantly, yonder he is.

_Enter_ Viramor.

The thought of this boy hath much cool'd my affection to his Lady, and by all conjectures, this is a disguised whore; I will try if I can search this Mine, Page--

_Ver._ Your pleasure, Sir?

_Lav._ Thou art a pretty boy.

_Ver._ And you a brave man: now I am out of your debt.

_Lav._ Nay, prethee stay.

_Ver._ I am in haste, Sir.

_Lav._ By the faith of a Courtier.

_Ver._ Take heed what you say, you have taken a strange oath.

_Lav._ I have not seen a youth that hath pleased me better; I would thou couldst li[k]e me, so far as to leave thy Lady and wait on me, I would maintain thee in the bravest cloaths.

_Ver._ Though you took them up on trust, or bought 'em at the Brokers.

_Lav._ Or any way: then thy imployments should be so neat and cleanly, thou shouldst not touch a pair of pantables in a month, and thy lodging--

_Ver._ Should be in a brothel.

_Lav._ No, but in mine arms.

_Ver._ That may be the circle of a Bawdy-house, or worse.

_Lav._ I mean thou should'st lye with me.

_Ver._ Lie with you? I had rather lye with my Ladies Monkey; 'twas never a good world, since our French Lords learned of the _Neapolitans_, to make their Pages their Bed-fellows, doth more hurt to the Suburb Ladies, than twenty dead vacations; 'Tis supper time, Sir. [_Exit_ Veram.

_Lav._ I thought so, I know by that 'tis a woman, for because, peradventure she hath made trial of the Monkey, she prefers him before me, as one unknown; well, these are standing creatures, and have strange desires; and men must use strange means to quenc[h] strange fires. [_Exit._

_Actus Quartus. Scæna Prima._

_Enter_ Montague _alone in mean habit_.

_Mont._ Now _Montague_, who discerns thy spirit now? Thy breeding, or thy bloud? here's a poor cloud Eclipseth all thy splendor; who can read In thy pale face, dead eye, or _lenten shute_, The liberty thy ever-giving hand Hath bought for others, manacling it self In gyves of parchment indissoluble? The greatest hearted man supplyed with means, Nobility of birth and gentlest parts, I thought the right hand of his Sovereign, If virtue quit her seat in his high soul, Glitters but like a Palace set on fire, Whose glory whilst it shines, but ruins him, And his bright show each hour to ashes tending Shall at the last be rak'd up like a sparkle, Unless mens lives and fortunes feed the flame. Not for my own wants, though blame I my Stars, But suffering others to cast love on me, When I can neither take, nor thankful be. My Ladies woman, fair and virtuous Young as the present month, sollicites me For love and marriage now being nothing worth--

_Enter_ Veramour.

_Ver._ Oh! Master, I have sought you a long hour, Good faith, I never joy'd out of your sight; For Heavens sake, Sir, be merry, or else bear The buffets of your fortunes with more scorn; Do but begin to rail, teach me the way, And I'll sit down, and help your anger forth: I have known you wear a suit; full worth a Lordship, Give to a man whose need ne'er frighted you From calling of him friend, five hundred Crowns E'er sleep had left your sences to consider Your own important present uses; yet Since I have seen you with a t[r]encher wait, Void of all scorn, therefore I'll wait on you.

_Mont._ Would [God] thou wert less honest.

_Ver._ Would to [God] you were less worthy: I am ev'n w'e Sir.

_Mon._ Is not thy Master strangely fall'n, when thou Servest for no wages, but for charity? Thou dost surcharge me with thy plenteous love: The goodness of thy virtue shown to me, More opens still my disability To quit thy pains: credit me loving boy, A free and honest nature may be opprest, Tir'd with courtesies from a liberal spirit, When they exceed his means of gratitude.

_Ver._ But 'tis a due in him that to that end Extends his love or duty.

_Mont._ Little world Of virtue, why dost love and follow me?

_Ver._ I will follow you through all Countreys, I'll run (fast as I can) by your horse side, I'll hold your stirrop when you do alight, And without grudging, wait till you return: I'll quit offer'd means, and expose my self To cold and hunger, still to be with you; Fearless I'll travel through a wilderness, And when you are weary, I will lay me down That in my bosom you may rest your head, Where whilst you sleep, I'll watch, that no wild beast Shall hurt or trouble you: and thus we'll breed a story To make every hearer weep, When they disco[u]rse our fortunes and our loves.

_Mont._ Oh what a scoff might men of women make, If they did know this boy? but my desire Is, that thou wouldest not (as thou usest still: When like a servant, I 'mong servants sit) Wait on my Trencher, fill my cups with Wine: Why should'st thou do this boy? prethee consider, I am not what I was.

_Ver._ Curst be the day when I forget that _Montague_ was my Lord, or not remember him my Master still.

_Mont._ Rather curse me, with whom thy youth hath spent, So many hours, and yet untaught to live By any worldly quality.

_Ver._ Indeed you never taught me how to handle Cards To cheat and cozen men with oaths and lies: Those are the worldly qualities to live: Some of our scarlet Gallants teach their boys These worldly qualities. Since stumbling fortune then leaves virtue thus Let me leave fortune, e'r be vicious.

_Mon._ Oh lad, thy love will kill me.

_Ver._ In truth, I think in conscience [I] shall dye for you: Good Master weep not, do you want aught, Sir? Will you have any money, here's some Silver; And here's a little Gold, 'twill serve to play, And put more troublesome thoughts out of your mind: I pray Sir take it, I'll get more with singing. And then I'll bring it you, my Lady ga't me, And--it was not covetousness, But I forgot to tell you sooner on't.

_Mont._ Alas boy, thou art not bound to tell it me, And less to give it, buy thee Scarfs and Garters, And when I have money, I will give thee a sword: Nature made thee a beauteous Cabinet To lock up [all] the goodness of the earth.

_Enter Charlote._

_Ver._ I have lost my voice with the very sight of this Gentlewoman: good Sir steal away, you were wont to be a curious avoider of womens company.

_Mont._ Why boy, thou dar'st trust me any where, dar'st thou not?

_Ver._ I had rather trust you by a roaring Lion, than a ravening woman.

_Mont._ Why boy?

_Ver._ Why truly she devours more mans flesh--

_Mont._ I, but she roars not boy.

_Ver._ No Sir, why she is never silent but when her mouth is full.

_Charl._ Monsieur _Montague_.

_Mont._ My sweet fellow, since you please to call me so.

_Ver._ Ah my conscience, she wou'd be pleas'd well enough to call you bed-fellow: oh Master, do not hold her by the hand so: a woman is a Lime-bush, that catcheth all she toucheth.

_Charl._ I do most dangerously suspect this boy to be a wench; art thou not one? come hither, let me feel thee.

_Ver._ With all my heart.

_Charl._ Why dost thou pull off thy Glove?

_Ver._ Why, to feel whether you be a boy, or no.

_Charl._ Fie boy, go too. I'll not look your head, nor comb your locks any more, if you talk thus.

_Ver._ Why, I'll sing to you no more then.

_Charl._ Fie upon't, how sad you are! a young Gentleman that was the very Sun of _France_.

_Mont._ But I am in the eclipse now.

_Cha[r]l._ Suffer himself to be over-run with a Lethargy of melancholy and discontent! rouze up thy spirit, man, and shake it off:

A Noble Soul is like a Ship at Sea, That sleeps at Anchor when the Ocean's calm; But when she rages, and the wind blows high, He cuts his way with skill and Majesty. I would turn a Fool, or Poet, or any thing, or marry, to make you merry; prethee let's walk: good _Veramour_, leave thy Master and me, I have earnest business with him.

_Ver._ Pray do you leave my Master, and me: we were very merry before you came, he does not covet womens company.

What have you to do with him? come Sir will you go? And I'll sing to you again:

I'faith his mind is stronger than to credit Womens vows, and too pure to be capable of their loves.

_Charl._ The boy is jealo[u]s, sweet lad leave us: my Lady call'd for you I swear: that's a good child, there's a piece of Gold for thee, go buy a Feather.

_Ver._ There's two pieces for you, do you go and buy one, or what you will, or nothing, so you go. Nay then I see you would have me go, Sir; why, I'faith I will, now I perceive you love her better than you do me; but [God] bless you whatever you do, or intend, I know you are a very honest man. [_Exit._

_Charl._ Still [shall] I wooe thee, whilst thy ears reply I cannot, or I will not marry thee? Why hast thou drawn the bloud out of my cheeks, And given a quicker motion to my heart? Oh thou hast bred a Feaver in my veins Call'd love, which no Physitian can cure; Have mercy on a Maid, whose simple youth--

_Mont._ How your example, fairest, teacheth me A ceremonious Idolatry! [_Kneels._ By all the joy of love, I love thee better, Than I or any man can tell another; And will express the mercy which thou crav'st, I will forbear to marry thee: consider Thou art Nature's heir in feature, and thy parents, In fair Inheritances; rise with these thoughts, And look on me; but with a womans eye, A decaid fellow, void of means and spirit.

_Charl._ Of spirit?

_Mont._ Yes, could I tamely live, Forget my Fathers bloud, wait, and make legs, Stain my best breeches, with the servile drops That fall from others draughts.

_Charl._ This vizard wherewith thou wouldst hide thy spirit, Is perspective, to shew it plainlier. This undervalue of thy life, is but Because I should not buy thee, what more speaks Greatness of man, than valiant patience, That shrinks not under his fates strongest strokes? These _Roman_ deaths, as falling on a sword, Opening of veins, with poison quenching thirst, (Which we erroneously do stile the deeds Of the heroick and magnanimous man) Was dead-ey'd cowardize, and white-cheek'd fear, Who doubting tyranny, and fainting under Fortunes false Lottery, desperately run To death, for dread of death; that soul's most stout, That bearing all mischance, dares last it out; Will you perform your word, and marry me, When I shall call you to't?

_Enter_ Longueville _with a riding-rod_.

_Mont._ I'faith I will.

_Charl._ Who's this alights here?

_Long._ With leave, fair creature, are you the Lady Mistriss of the house?

_Charl._ Her servant, Sir.

_Long._ I pray then favour me, to inform your Lady, and Duke _Orleans_ wife,

A business of import awaits 'em here, And craves for speedy answer.

_Charl._ Are you in post, Sir?

_Long._ No, I am in Satin, Lady; I would you would be in post.

_Charl._ I will return, Sweet. [_Exit._

_Long._ Honest friend, do you belong to the house? I pray be covered.

_Mont._ Yes Sir, I do.

_Long._ Ha, dream'st thou _Longaville_? sure 'tis not he: Sir I should know you.

_Mont._ So should I you, but that I am asham'd. But though thou know'st me, prethee _Longaville_, Mock not my poverty, pray remember your self; Shows it not strangely for thy cloaths to stand Without a Hat to mine? mock me no more.

_Long._ The ---- embroider me all over, Sir, If ever I began to mock you yet. The ---- on me, why should I wear Velvet And Silver Lace? ---- I will tear it off.

_Mont._ Why Mad-man?

_Long._ Put on my Hat? yes, when I am hang'd I will: ---- I could break my head. For holding eyes that knew not you at first: But time and fortune run your courses with him, He'll laugh and storm you, when you shew most hate.

_Enter_ Lamira, Orlean's _Lady_, Laverdine, La Poop, Malycorn, Veramour, Charlot.

_Lam._ You're a fair Mounsieur.

_Long._ Do you mock me, Lady?

_Lam._ Your business, Sir, I mean.

_Lady._ Regard your self good Mounsieur _Longueville_.

_Lam._ You are too negligent of your self and place, Cover your head sweet Mounsieur.

_Long._ Mistake me not fair Ladies, 'Tis not to you, nor you, that I stand bare.

_Lav._ Nay sweet dear Mounsieur, let it not be to us then.

_La Poop._ ---- A compliment.

_Mal._ And ---- of manners. Pray hide your head, your gallants use to do't.

_Long._ And you your foreheads, why you needful accessary rascals, That cannot live without your mutual knaveries, More than a Bawd, a Pandor, or a Whore From one another; how dare you suspect That I stand bare to you? what make you here? Shift your house, Lady of 'em, for I know 'em, They come to steal Napkins, and your Spoons; Look to your Silver-bodkin, (Gentlewoman) 'Tis a dead _Utensil_, and Page 'ware your pockets; My reverence is unto this man, my Master, Whom you, with protestations, and oaths As high as Heaven, as deep as Hell, which would Deceive the wisest man of honest nature, Have cozen'd and abus'd; but I may meet you, And beat you one with th' other.

_Mont._ Peace, no more.

_Long._ Not a word, Sir.

_Lav._ I am something thick of hearing; what said he?

_La poop._ I hear him, but regard him not.

_Mal._ Nor I, I am never angry fasting.

_Long._ My love keeps back my duty, noblest Lady; If Husband or brother merit love from you, Prevent their dangers, this hour brings to trial Their hereto sleeping hates; by this time each Within a yard is of the others heart, And met to prove their causes and their spirits With their impartial swords points; haste and save, Or never meet them more, but at the grave.

_Lady._ Oh my distracted heart, that my wrackt honor Should for a Brothers, or a Husbands life, through thy undoing, die.

_Lam. Amiens_ engag'd; if he miscarry all my hopes and joys, I now confess it loudly, are undone: Caroch, and haste, one minute may betray A life more worth than all time can repay.

[_Exeunt Ladies and_ Mont.

_Mal._ Hump: Monsieur _Laverdine_ pursues this boy extreamly, Captain, what will you do?

_La p._ Any thing but follow to this Land-service; I am a Sea-Captain you know, and to offer to part 'em, without we could do't like Watermen with long staves, a quarter of a mile off, might be dangerous.

_Mal._ Why then let's retire and pray for 'em, I am resolv'd to stop your intent; abus'd more than we have been we cannot be, without they fall to flat beating on's.

[_Exeunt_ Maly, La-poop.

_Lav._ And that were unkindly done i'faith.

_Ver._ But you are the trou[b]lesomest Ass that e'er I met with; retire, you smell like a womans chamber, that's newly up, before she have pinsht her vapours in with her cloaths.

_Lav._ I will haunt thee like thy Grandames Ghost, thou shalt never rest for me.

_Ver._ Well, I perceive 'tis vain to conceal a secret from you: believe it Sir, indeed I am a woman.

_Lav._ Why la; I knew't, this Prophetical tongue of mine never fail'd me; my mother was half a witch, never any thing that she forespake, but came to pass: a woman? how happy am I! now we may lawfully come together without fear of hanging; sweet wench, be gracious, in honourable sort I woe, no otherwise.

_Ver._ Faith, the truth is, I have loved you long.

_Lav._ See, see.

_Ver._ But durst not open it.

_Lav._ ---- I think so.

_Ver._ But briefly, when you bring it to the test, if there be not one Gentleman in this house, will challenge more interest in me, than you can, I am at your disposure. [_Exit._

_Lav._ Oh _Fortunatus_, I envy thee not For Cap, or pouch, this day I'll prove my Fortune, In which your Lady doth elect her Husband, Who will [b]e _Amiens_, 'twill save my wedding dinner, _Povera_, _La Poop_, and _Malicorn_: if all fail, I will turn Citizen, a beauteous wife Is the Horn-book to the richest Tradesmans life. [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ Duboys, Orleans, Longueville, Amiens, _two_ _Lacques, a Page with two Pistols_.

_Dub._ Here's a good even piece of ground my Lords: Will you fix here?

_Orl._ Yes, any where; Lacquey, take off my spurs; Upon a bridge, a rail, but my swords breadth upon a battlement, I'll fight this quarrel.

_Dub._ O' the Ropes, my Lord.

_Orl._ Upon a Line.

_Dub._ So all our Countrey Duels are carried, like a firework on a thred.

_Orl._ Go now, stay with the horses, and, do you hear? Upon your lives, till some of us come to you, Dare not to look this way.

_Dub._ Except you see strangers or others that by chance or purpose are like to interrupt us.

_Orl._ Then give warning.

_Long._ Who takes a sword? the advantage is so small, As he that doubts, hath the free leave to choose.

_Orl._ Come, give me any, and search me; 'tis not The ground, weapon, or seconds that can make Odds in those fatal trials: but the cause.

_Ami._ Most true, and, but it is no time to wish When men are come to do, I would desire The cause 'twixt us were other than it is; But where the right is, there prevail our Swords. And if my Sister have out-liv'd her honor, I do not pray I may out-live her shame.

_Orl._ Your Sister _Amiens_, is a whore, at once.

_Ami._ You oft have spoke that sence to me before, But never in th[i]s language _Orleance_; And when you spoke it fair, and first, I told you That it was possible you might be abus'd: But now, since you forget your manners, you shall find, If I transgress my custom, you do lye, And are a villain, which I had rather yet My sword had prov'd, than I been forc'd to speak: Nay, give us leave, and since you stand so haughtily And highly on your cause, let you and I, Without engaging these two Gentlemen, singly determine it.

_Long._ My Lord, you'll pardon us.

_Dub._ I trust your Lordships may not do us that affront.

_Ami._ As how?

_Dub._ We kiss your Lordships hand, and come to serve you here with swords.

_Long._ My Lord, we understand our selves.

_Dub._ We have had the honor to be call'd unto the business, and we must not now quit it on terms.

_Ami._ Not terms of reason?

_Long._ No, no [r]eason for the quitting of our calling.

_Dub._ True, if I be call'd to't I must ask no reason.

_Long._ Nor hear none neither, which is less: It is a favour, if my throat be cut, Your Lordship does me; which I never can,

[_A noise-within, crying down with your swords._

Nor must have hope how to requite: what noise? What cry is that my Lord upon your guard? So[me] treachery is a foot.

_Enter Lady_ Orleans, Lamira, Montague.

_Lady._ Oh here they are: My Lord (dear Lady help me) help me all; I have so woful interest in both, I know not which to fear for most: and yet I must prefer my Lord. Dear brother, You are too understanding, and too noble To be offended, when I know my duty, Though scarce my tears will let me so to do it.

_Orl._ Out loathed strumpet.

_Lady._ Oh my dearest Lord, If words could on me cast the name of whore, I then were worthy to be loath'd; but know, Your unkindness cannot make me wicked; And therefore should less use that power upon me.

_Orl._ Was this your Art to make these Actors come, To make this interlude? withdraw, cold man, And if thy spirit be not frozen up, Give me one stroke yet at thee for my vengeance.

_Ami._ Thou shalt have strokes, and strokes, thou glorious man, Till thou breath'st thinner air than that thou talkest.

_Lam._ My Lord, Count _Amiens_.

_Lady._ Princely Husband.

_Orl._ Whore.

[_Lam._] You wrong her impudent Lord; oh that I had the bulk Of those dull men; look how they stand, and no man Will revenge an innocent Lady.

_Ami._ You hinder it Madam.

_Lam._ I would hinder you; is there none else to kill him?

_Lady._ Kill him, Madam? have you learn'd that bad language? oh repent, And be the motive, rather both kill me.

_Orl._ Then d[i]e my infamy.

_Mont._ Hold bloody man.

_Orl._ Art thou there Basilisk?

_Mont._ To strike thee dead, but that thy fate deserves some weightier hand.

_Dub._ Sweet my Lord.

_Orl._ Oh here's a plot; you bring your champions with you; the adultress with the adulterer: Out howling--

_Dub._ Good my Lord.

_Orl._ Are you her Graces countenancer, Lady, the receiver to the poor vicious couple.

_Dub._ Sweet my Lord.

_Orl._ Sweet rascal, didst not tho[u] tell me, false fellow, This _Montague_ here was murdered?

_Dub._ I did so; but he was falser, and a worthless Lord, Like thy foul self that would have had it so.

_Long. Orleance_ 'tis true, and shall be prov'd upon thee.

_Mont._ Thy malice Duke, and this thy wicked nature, are all as visible as thou; but I born to contemn thy injuries, do know, that though thy greatness may corrupt a Jury, and make a Judge afraid, and carry out a world of evils with thy Title: yet thou art not quiet at home, thou bearest about thee that, that doth charge thee, and condemn thee too. The thing that grieves me more, and doth indeed displease me, is, to think that so much baseness stands here to have encountred so much honor: Pardon me my Lord, what late my passion spake, when you provok'd my innocence.

_Orl._ Yes, do, oh! flattery becomes him better than the suit he wears; give him a new one, _Amiens_.

_Ami. Orleance_, 'tis here no time nor place, to jest or rail Poorly with you, but I will find a time to Whisper you forth to this, or some fit place, As shall not hold a second interruption.

_Mont._ I hope your Lordships honor, and your life Are destined unto higher hazards; this is of A meaner arm.

_Dub._ Yes faith, or none.

_Long._ He is not fit to fall by an honest Sword, A Prince and lye!

_Dub._ And slander, and hire men To publish the false rumours he hath made.

_Long._ And stick 'em on his friends, and innocents.

_Dub._ And practice against their lives after their fames.

_Long._ In men that are the matter of all lewdness, Bawds, Thieves, and Cheaters, it were monstrous.

_Dub._ But in a man of bloud, how more conspicuous!

_Ami._ Can this be?

_Lady._ They do slander him.

_Orl._ Hang them, a pair of railing hangbies.

_Long._ How? stand _Orleance_; stay, give me my Pistols boy, Hinder me not, by---- I will kill him.

_Lady._ Oh, stay his fury.

_Ami. Longueville_, my friend.

_Long._ Not for my self, my Lord, but for mankind, And all that have an interest to virtue, Or title unto innocence.

_Ami._ Why hear me.

_Long._ For justice sake.

_Ami._ That cannot be.

_Long._ To punish his wives, your honor, and my Lords wrongs here, whom I must ever call so; for your loves I'll swear I'll sacrifice--

_Ami. Longueville_, I did not think you a murtherer before.

_Long._ I care not what you thought me.

_Ami._ By ---- If thou attempt His life, thy own is forfeit.

_Mont._ Foolish frantick man, the murder will be of us, not him.

_Lady._ Oh [God]!

_Mont._ We could have kill'd him, but we would not take The justice out of fates.-- Sindge but a hair of him, thou diest.

_Long._ No matter, shoot.

_Ami._ Villain.

_Dub._ My Lord, your Sister is slain.

_Ami. Biancha?_

_Mont._ Oh hapless, and most wretched chance.

_Lam._ Standst thou looking upon the mischief thou hast made? Thou godless man, feeding thy blood-shot eyes With the red spectacle, and art not turn'd to stone With horror? Hence, and take the wings of thy black Infamy, to carry thee beyond the shoot of looks, Or sound of curses, which will pursue thee still: Thou hast out-fled all but thy guilt.

_Orl._ Oh wish it off again, for I am crack'd Under the burden, and my heart will break. How heavy guilt is, when men come to feel If you could know the mountain I sustain With horror, you would each take off your part, And more, to ease me: I cannot stand, Forgive where I have wrong'd, I pray.

_Ami._ Look to him _Montague_.

_Long._ My Lords and Gentlemen, the Lady is well, but for fear, Unless that have shot her; I have the worst on't, that needs would venture Upon a trick had like to ha' cost my guts: Look to her, she'll be well, it was but Powder I charg'd with, thinking that a guilty man Would have been frighted sooner; but I'm glad He's come at last.

_La[m]._ How is _Byancha_? well?

_Ami._ Lives she? see Sister, doth she breathe?

_Lady._ Oh Gentlemen, think you I can breathe, That am restored to the hateful sense Of feeling in me my dear husbands death? Oh no, I live not; life was that I left; And what you have call'd me to, is death indeed: I cannot weep so fast as he doth bleed.

_Dub._ Pardon me, Madam, he is well.

_Lady._ Ha my Husband.

_Orl._ I cannot speak whether my joy or shame Be greater, but I thank the Heavens for both. Oh look not black upon me, all my friends, To whom I will be reconcil'd, or grow unto This earth, till I have wept a trench That shall be great enough to be my grave, And I will think them too most manly tears, If they do move your pities: it is true, Man should do nothing that he should repent; But if he have, and say that he is sorry, It is a worse fault, if he be not truly.

_Lam._ My Lord, such sorrow cannot be suspected: Here take your honoured wife, and joyn your hands. ----She hath married you again: And Gentlemen, I do invite you all, This night to take my house, where on the morrow, To heighten more the reconciling feast, I'll make my self a Husband and a guest. [_Exeunt._

_Actus Quintus. Scæna Prima._

_Enter_ Montague, _and_ Charlotte.

_Charl._ Well now I am sure you are mine.

_Mont._ I am sure I am glad I have one to own then; you'll find me honest As these days go, enough; poor without question, Which beggars hold a virtue; give me meat, and I Shall do my work, else knock my shooes off, And turn me out again.

_Char._ You are a merry fellow.

_Mont._ I have no great cause.

_Char._ Yes, thy love to me.

_Mont._ That's as we make our game.

_Char._ Why, you repent then?

_Mont._ Faith no worse than I am I cannot be; Much better I expect not: I shall love you, And when you bid me go to bed, obey, Lie still or move, as you shall minister; Keep a four-Nobles Nag, and a _Jack_ _Merling_, learn to love Ale, and play at Two-hand _Irish_, And there's then all I aim at.

_Char._ Nay sweet fellow, I'll make it something better.

_Mont._ If you do, you'll make me worse: Now I am poor, and willing to do well, Hold me in that course; of all the Kings creatures, I hate his coin, keep me from that, and save me; For if you chance out of your housewivery To leave a hundred pound or two, bestow it In Plumb-broth e'r I know it, else I take it; Seek out a hundred men that want this money, Share it among 'em, they'll cry noble _Montague_, And so I stand again at livery.

_Char._ You have pretty fancies, Sir, but married once, This charity will fall home to your self.

_Mont._ I would it would, I am afraid my looseness Is yet scarce stopt, though it have nought to work on But the meer air of what I have had.

_Char._ Pretty.

_Mont._ I wonder sweet heart why you'll marry me, I can see nothing in my self deserves it, Unless the handsome wearing of a band, For that's my stock now, or a pair of garters; Necessity will not let me loose.

_Char._ I see Sir, a great deal more, a handsome man, a Husband, To make a right good woman truly happy.

_Mont._ Lord, where are my eyes, either you are foolish As wenches once a year are, or far worse, Extreamly virtuous, can you love a poor man That relies on cold meat, and cast stockings, One only suit to his back, which now is mewing? But what will be the next coat will pose _Tristram_. If I should leavy from my friends a fortune: I could not raise ten groats to pay the Priest now.

_Char._ I'll do that duty; 'tis not means nor money Makes me pursue your love; were your mind bankrupt, I would never love you.

_Enter_ Lamira.

_Mont._ Peace wench, here's my Lady.

_Lam._ Nay, never shrink i'th' wetting, for my presence; D'ye find her willing _Montague_?

_Mont._ Willing Madam?

_Lam._ How dainty you make of it, do not I know You two love one another?

_Mont._ Certain Madam, I think ye'ave revelations of these matters: Your Ladyship cannot tell me when I kist her.

_Lam._ But she can, Sir.

_Mont._ But she will not Madam; For when they talk once, 'tis like Fairy-Money, They get no more close kisses.

_Lam._ Thou art wanton.

_Mont._ [God] knows I need not, yet I would be lusty: But ---- my Provender scarce pricks me.

_Lam._ It shall be mended _Montague_, I am glad you are grown so merry.

_Mont._ So am I too Madam.

_Lam._ You two will make a pretty handsome Consort.

_Mont._ Yes Madam, if my Fiddle fail me not.

_Lam._ Your Fiddle? why your Fiddle? I warrant thou meanest madly:

_Mont._ Can you blame me? alas I am in love.

_Char._ 'Tis very well, Sir.

_Lam._ How long have you been thus?

_Mont._ How thus in love?

_Lam._ You are very quick, Sir: no, I mean thus pleasant.

_Mont._ --Ever since I was poor.

_Lam._ A little wealth would change you then?

_Mont._ Yes Lady, into another suit, but never more Into another man: I'll bar that mainly, The wealth I get hence-forward shall be charm'd For ever hurting me, I'll spend it fasting: As I live noble Lady, there is nothing I have found directly, cures the melancholy, But want and wedlock; when I had store of money, I simper'd sometime, and spoke wondrous wise, But never laught out-right; now I am empty, My heart sounds like a Bell, and strikes at both sides.

_Lam._ You are finely temper'd, _Montague_.

_Mont._ Pardon Lady, if any way my free mirth have offended, 'Twas meant to please you: if it prove too saucy, Give it a frown, and I am ever silenc'd.

_Lam._ I like it passing well; pray follow it: This is my day of choice, and shall be yours too, 'Twere pity to delay ye: call to the Steward, And tell him 'tis my pleasure he should give you Five hundred Crowns: make your self handsome _Montague_, Let none wear better cloaths, 'tis for my credit; But pray be merry still.

_Mont._ If I be not, and make a fool of twice as many hundreds, Clap me in Canvas, Lady. [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ La-poop, Laverdine, _and_ Malycorne.

_Lav._ I am strangely glad, I have found the mystery Of this disguised boy out: I ever trusted It was a woman; and how happily I have found it so; and for my self, I am sure, One that would offer me a thousand pound now (And that's a pretty sum to make one stagger) In ready Gold for this concealment, could not Buy my hope of her, she's a dainty wench, And such a one I find I want extreamly, To bring me into credit: beauty does it.

_Mal._ Say we should all meach here, and stay the Feast, now, what can the worst be? we have plaid the knaves, that's without question.

_La-p._ True, and as I take it, this is the first truth We told these ten years, and for any thing I know, may be the last: but grant we are knaves, Both base and beastly knaves--

_Mal._ Say so then.

_Lav._ Well.

_La-p._ And likewise let it be considered, we have wrong'd, And most maliciously, this Gentlewoman We cast to stay with, what must we expect now?

_Mal._ I, there's the point, we would expect good eating.

_La-p._ I know we would, but we may find good beating.

_Lav._ You say true Gentlemen, and by---- Though I love meat as well as any man, I care not what he be, if a eat a Gods name; Such a crab-sauce to my meat will turn my pallate.

_Mal._ There's all the hazard, for the frozen _Montague_ Has now got spring again, and warmth in him, And without doubt, dares beat us terribly. For not to mint the matter, we are cowards, And have, and shall be beaten, when men please To call us into cudgeling.

_La-p._ I feel we are very prone that way.

_Lav._ The sons of _Adam_.

_La-p._ Now, here then rests the state o'th' question; Whether we yield our bodies for a dinner To a sound dog-whip, for I promise ye, If men be given to correction, We can expect no less; or quietly Take a hard Egg or two, and ten mile hence Bait in a ditch, this we may do securely; For, to stay hereabout will be all one, If once our moral mischiefs come in memory.

_Mal._ But pray ye hear me, is not this the day The Virgin Lady doth elect her Husband?

_Lav._ The dinner is to that end.

_Mal._ Very well then, say we all stay, and say we all scape this whipping, and be well entertained, and one of us carry the Lady.

_La-p._ 'Tis a seemly saying, I must confess, but if we stay, how fitly We may apply it to our selves (i'th' end) Will ask a _Christian_ fear; I cannot see, If I say true, what special ornaments Of Art or Nature, (lay aside our lying Whoring and drinking, which are no great virtues) We are endued withal, to win this Lady.

_Mal._ Yet Women go not by the best parts ever; that I have found directly.

_Lav._ Why should we fear then? they choose men As they feed; sometimes they settle Upon a White broth'd face, a sweet smooth gallant, And him they make an end of in a night; Sometimes a Goose, sometimes a grosser meat, A rump of Beef will serve 'em at some season, And fill their bellies too, though without doubt They are great devourers: Stock-fish is a dish, If it be well drest, for the tuffness sake Will make the proud'st of 'em long and leap for't. They'll run mad for a Pudding, e'r they'll starve.

_La-p._ For my own