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"AM BRIDGE  ENGLISH  CLASSICS 


ISL 


The  Works 

of 
Francis   Beaumont 

and 
John   Fletcher 


In  ten  volumes 
Vol.  V 


FRANCIS  BEAUMONT 

Born  1584 
Died   1616 


JOHN   FLETCHER 

Born   1579 
Died  1625 


BEAUMONT  AND  FLETCHER 

A   WIFE    FOR   A    MONTH 

THE  LOVERS  PROGRESS       THE  PILGRIM 

THE  CAPTAIN'       THE  PROPHETESS 


THE    TEXT    EDITED    BY 

A.    R.   WALLER,    M.A. 


CAMBRIDGE  : 

at  the  University  Press 

1907 


CAMBRIDGE   UNIVERSITY  PRESS  WAREHOUSE, 
C.  F.  CLAY,   MANAGER. 
:    FETTER  LANE,   E.G. 
:   50,  WELLINGTON  STREET. 


ILeipjig:   F.  A.  BROCKHAUS. 

$efo  gorft:  G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS. 

Bombag  anH  Calcutta:    MACMILLAN  AND  CO.,  LTD. 


PR 


v.S 


[All  Rights  reserved.} 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

A  Wife  for  a  Month                                     -  I 

The  Lovers  Progress  74 

The  Pilgrim      ...  X53 

The  Captain      ...  23° 

The  Prophetess 32° 


Wife  for  a  Month; 

A 

TRAGI-COMEDY. 


Persons  Represented  in  the  Play. 


Alphonso,    King   of  Naples,    elder 

Brother  to  Frederick. 
Frederick,  unnatural  and  libidinous 

Brother  to  Alphonso,  and  usurper 

of  his  Kingdom. 
Sorano,  a  Lord,  Brother  to  Evanthe, 

Frederick'.?  wicked  instrument. 
Valerio,  a  noble  young  Lord,  servant 

to  Evanthe. 
Camillo,    | 

Cleanthes,  \three  honest  Court  Lords. 
Menallo,    J 
Rugio,  an  honest   Lord,  friend  to 

Alphonso. 

Marco,  a  Frier,  Alphonso1  s  friend. 
Podramo,    a   necessary   creature   to 

Sorano. 

Graces  j  w/'^  other  Mas^.uers' 
Tonie,  King  Frederick^  Knavish  fool. 


Castruccio,  Captain  of  the  Cittadel, 

an  honest  man. 
Citizens. 
Lawyer. 
Physician. 
Captain. 
Cut-purse. 
Fool. 
Attendants. 

WOMEN. 

Queen,  Wife  to  Frederick,  a  vertuous 
Lady. 

Evanthe,  Sister  to  Sorano,  the  chaste 
Wife  of  Valerio,  or  a  Wife  for  a 
Month. 

Cassandra,  an  old  Bawd,  Waiting- 
woman  to  Evanthe. 

Ladies. 

City-Wives. 


T'be  Scene  Naples. 

The  principal  Actors  were, 

Joseph  Taylor.        }  (Robert  Benfield. 
Richard  Robinson.    \  <  John   Underwood. 
Nicholas  Toolie.       J  (  George  Birch. 


B.-F.  V. 


A  WIFE  FOR  A  MONTH      ACT  i 


Attus  Primus.     Scena  Prima. 

Enter  King  Frederick,  Sorano,  Valeric,  Camillo, ! 
Cleanthes,  Menallo,  and  Attendants. 

Sor.   TT  TILL  your  Grace  speak? 

VV        Fre.     Let  me  alone,  Sorano^ 
Although  my  thoughts  seem  sad,  they  are  welcome  to  me. 

Sor.     You  know  I  am  private  as  your  secret  wishes, 
Ready  to  fling  my  soul  upon  your  service, 
E're  your  command  be  on't. 

Fre.     Bid  those  depart. 

Sor.     You  must  retire  my  Lords. 

Cam.     What  new  design  is  hammering  in  his  head  now? 

Cle.     Let's  pray  heartily 

None  of  our  heads  meet  with  it,  my  Wife's  old,  ^ 
That's  all  my  comfort. 

Men.     Mine's  ugly,  that  I  am  sure  on, 
And  I  think  honest  too,  'twould  make  me  start  else. 

Cam.  Mine's  troubled  in  the  Country  with  a  Feaver, 
And  some  few  infirmities  else  ;  he  looks  again, 
Come  let's  retire,  certain  'tis  some  siigrbusiness, 
This  new  Lord  is  imployed. 

Val.     I'le  not  be  far  off,  because  I  doubt  the  cause.       [Ex. 

Fre.     Are  they  all  gone  ? 

Sor.     All  but  your  faithful  Servant.^ 

Fre.     I  would  tell  thee, 
But  'tis  a  thing  thou  canst  not  like.  (Sir : 

Sor.    Pray  ye  speak  it,  is  it  my  head  ?  I  have  it  ready  for  ye, 
Is't  any  aftion  in  my  power  ?  my  wit  ? 
I  care  not  of  what  nature,  nor  what  follows. 

Fre.     I  am  in  love. 

Sor.     That's  the  least  thing  of  a  thousand, 
The  easiest  to  atchieve. 

Fre.     But  with  whom,  Sorano  ? 

Sor.     With  whom  you  please,  you  must  not  be  deny'd,  Sir. 

Fred.     Say  it  be  with  one  of  thy  Kinswomen. 

Sor.     Say  withal, 
I  shall  more  love  your  Grace,  I  shall  more  honour  ye, 


Sc.  i        A  WIFE  FOR  A  MONTH 

And  would  I  had  enough  to  serve  your  pleasure. 

Fred.     Why  'tis  thy  Sister  then,  th&Jair^.Evantbe, 
Pie  be  plain  with  thee. 

Sor.     Tie  be  as  plain  with  you,  Sir, 
She  brought  not  her  perfections  to  the  world, 
To  lock  them  in  a  case,  or  hang  'em  by  her, 
The  use  is  all  she  breeds  'em  for,  she  is  yours,  Sir. 

Fred.     Dost  thou  mean  seriously  ? 

Sor.     I  mean  my  Sister, 

And  if  I  had  a  dozen  more,  they  were  all  yours  : 
Some  Aunts  I  have,  they  have  been  handsome  Women^ 
My  Mother's  dead  indeed,  and  some  few  Cousins 
That  are  now  shooting  up,  we  shall  see  shortly. 

Fred.     No,  'tis  Evanthe. 

Sor.     I  have  sent  my  man  unto  her, 
Upon  some  business  to  come  presently 
Hither,  she  shall  come  ;  your  Grace  dare  speak  unto  her  ? 
Large  golden  promises,  and  sweet  language,  Sir, 
You  know  what  they  work,  she  is  a  compleat  Courtier, 
Besides  I'le  set  in. 

Fred.     She  waits  upon  my  Queen, 
What  jealousie  and  anger  may  arise, 
Incensing  her  ? 

Sor.     You  have  a  good  sweet  Lady, 
A  Woman  of  so^rv^n^jmjijstill  a  Jumper, 
She  knows  not  anger;  say  she  were  a  fury, 
I  had  thought  you  had  been  absolute,  the  great  King, 
The  fountain  of  all  honours,  plays  and  pleasures, 
Your  will  and  your  commands  unbounded  also  ; 
Go  get  a  pair  of  Beads  and  learn  to  pray,  Sir. 

Enter  Servant. 

Ser.     My  Lord,  your  servant  stayes. 

Sor.     Bid  him  come  hither,  and  bring  the  Lady  with  him. 

Fred.     I  will  woo  her, 
And  either  lose  my  self,  or  win  her  favour. 

Sor.     She  is  coming  in. 

Fred.     Thy  eyes  shoot  through  the  door, 
They  are  so  piercing,  that  the  beams  they  dart 
Give  new  light  to  the  room. 

A2  3 


A  WIFE  FOR  A  MONTH      ACT  i 


Enter  Podramo  and  Evanthe. 

Evan.     Whither  dost  thou  go  ? 
This  is  the  Kings  side,  and  his  private  lodgings, 
What  business  have  I  here  ? 

Pod.     My  Lord  sent  for  ye. 

Evan.     His  lodgings  are  below,  you  are  mistaken, 
We  left  them  at  the  stair-foot. 

Pod.     Good  sweet  Madam. 

Evan.     I  am  no  Counsellor,  nor  important  Sutor, 
Nor  have  no  private  business  through  these  Chambers, 
To  seek  him  this  way,  o'  my  life  thou  art  drunk, 
Or  worse  than  drunk,  hir'd  to  convey  me  hither 
To  some  base  end  ;  now  I  look  on  thee  better, 
Thou  hast  a  bawdy  face,  and  I  abhor  thee, 
\A  beastly  bawdy  face,  I'le  go  no  further. 

Sor.     Nay  shrink  not  back,  indeed  you  shall  good  Sister, 
Why  do  you  blush  ?  the  good  King  will  not  hurt  ye, 
He  honours  ye,  and  loves  ye. 

Evan.     Is  this  the  business  ? 

Sor.    Yes,  and  the  best  you  ever  will  arrive  at  if  you  be  wise. 

Evan.     My  Father  was  no  bawd,  Sir, 
Nor  of  that  worshipful  stock  as  I  remember. 

Sor.     [You]  are  a  Fool. 

Evan.     You  are  that  I  shame  to  tell  ye. 

Fred.     Gentle  Evanthe. 

Evan.     The  gracious  Queen,  Sir, 
Is  well  and  merry,  Heaven  be  thanked  for  it, 
And  as  I  think  she  waits  you  in  the  Garden. 

Fre.     Let  her  wait  there,  I  talk  not  of  her  Garden, 
I  talk  of  thee  sweet  Flower. 

Evan.     Your  Grace  is  pleasant, 
To  mistake  a  Nettle  for  a  Rose. 

Fre.     No  Rose,  nor  Lilly,  nor  no  glorious  Hyacinth 
Are  of  that  sweetness,  whiteness,  tenderness. 
Softness,  and  satisfying  blessedness 
As  my  Evanthe. 

Evan.     Your  Grace  speaks  very  feelingly, 
I  would  not  be  a  handsome  wench  in  your  way,  Sir, 
For  a  new  Gown. 


Sc.  i        A  WIFE  FOR  A  MONTH 

Fred.     Thou  art  all  handsomness, 
Nature  will  be  asham'd  to  frame  another 
Now  thou  art  made,  thou  hast  rob'd  her  of  her  cunning  : 
''  i  Each  several  part  about  thee  is  a  beauty. 

ISor.     Do  you  hear  this  Sister  ? 
Evan.     Yes,  unworthy  Brother,  but  all  this  will  not  do. 
Fred.     But  love  Evanthe. 
Thou  shalt  have  more  than  words,  wealth,  ease,  and  honours, 
My  tender  Wench. 

Evan.     Be  tender  of  my  credit, 
And  I  shall  love  you,  Sir,  and  I  shall  honour  ye. 

Fred.     I  love  thee  to  enjoy  thee,  my  Evantke, 
To  give  thee  the  content  of  love. 

Evan.     Hold,  hold,  Sir,  ye  are  too  fleet, 
I  have  some  business  this  way,  your  Grace  can  ne'r  content. 

Sor.     You  stubborn  toy. 

Evan.     Good  my  Lord  Bawd  I  thank  ye. 

Fre.     Thou  shalt  not  go  believe  me,  sweet  Evanthe^ 
So  high  I  will  advance  thee  for  this  favour, 
So  rich  and  potent  I  will  raise  thy  fortune, 
And  thy  friends  mighty. 

Evan.     Good  your  Grace  be  patient, 
I  shall  make  the  worst  honourable  wench  that  ever  was, 
Shame  your  discretion,  and  your  choice. 

Fred.     Thou  shalt  not. 

Evan.     Shall  I  be  rich  do  you  say,  and  glorious, 
And  shine  above  the  rest,  and  scorn  all  beauties, 
And  mighty  in  command  ? 

Fred.     Thou  shalt  be  any  thing. 

Eva.     Let  me  be  honest  too,  and  then  Fie  thank  ye. 
Have  you  not  such  a  title  to  bestow  too  ? 
If  I  prove  otherwise,  I  would  know  but  this,  Sir ; 
Can  all  the  power  you  have  or  all  the  riches, 
But  tye  mens  tongues  up  from  discoursing  of  me, 
Their  eyes  from  gazing  at  my  glorious  folly, 
Time  that  shall  come,  from  wondering  at  my  impudence, 
And  they  that  read  my  wanton  life  from  curses  ? 
Can  you  do  this  ?    have  ye  this  Magick  in  ye  ? 
This  is  riot  in  your  power,  though  you  be  a  Prince,  Sir, 
No  more  than  evil  is  in  holy  Angels, 


A  WIFE  FOR  A  MONETH    ACT  i 

Nor  I,  I  hope  :    get  wantonness  confirm'd 
By  Act  of  Parliament  an  honesty, 
And  so  receiv'd  by  all,  Fie  hearken  to  ye. 
Heaven  guide  your  Grace. 

Fred.     Evantke,  stay  a  little, 
Fie  no  more  wantonness,  Fie  marry  thee. 

Evan.     What  shall  the  Queen  do  ? 

Fred.     Fie  be  divorced  from  her. 

Eva.    Can  you  tell  why  ?  what  has  she  done  against  ye  ? 
Has  she  contrived  a  Treason  'gainst  your  Person  ? 
Abus'd  your  bed  ?    does  disobedience  urge  ye  ? 

Fred.     That's  all  one,  'tis  my  will. 

Evan.     'Tis  a  most  wicked  one, 
A  most  absurd  one,  and  will  show  a  Monster  ; 
I  had  rather  be  a  Whore,  and  with  less  sin, 
To  your  present  lust,  than  Queen  to  your  injustice. 
Yours  is  no  love,  Faith  and  Religion  fly  it, 
Nor  has  no  taste  of  fair  affeclion  in  it, 
Some  Hellish  flame  abuses  your  fair  body, 
And  Hellish  furies  blow  it ;    look  behind  ye, 
Divorce  ye  from  a  Woman  of  her  beauty, 
Of  her  integrity,  her  piety  ?  J 
Her  love  to  you,  to  all  that  honours  ye, 
Her  chaste  and  vertuous  love,  are  these  fit  causes  ? 
What  will  you  do  to  me,  when  I  have  cloy'd  ye  ? 
You  may  find  time  out  in  eternity, 
Deceit  and  violence  in  heavenly  Justice, 
Life  in  the  grave,  and  death  among  the  blessed, 
Ere  stain  or  brack  in  her  sweet  reputation. 

Sor.     You  have  fool'd  enough,  be  wise  now,  and  a  woman, 
You  have  shew'd  a  modesty  sufficient, 
If  not  too  much  for  Court. 

Evan.     You  have  shew'd  an  impudence, 
A  more  experienc'd  bawd  would  blush  and  shake  at ; 
You  will  make  my  kindred  mighty. 

Fred.     Prethee  hear  me. 

Evan.     I  do  Sir,  and  I  count  it  a  great  offer. 

Fred.     Any  of  thine. 

Evan.     'Tis  like  enough  you  may  clap  honour  on  them, 
But  how  'twill  sit,  and  how  men  will  adore  it, 

6 


Sc.  i       A  WIFE  FOR  A  MONETH 

Is  still  the  question.     I'le  tell  you  what  they'l  say,  Sir, 
What  the  report  will  be,  and  'twill  be  true  too, 
And  it  must  needs  be  comfort  to  your  Master, 
These  are  the  issues  of  her  impudence  : 
Tie  tell  your  Grace,  so  dear  I  hold  the  Queen, 
So  dear  that  honour  that  she  nurs'd  me  up  in, 
I  would  first  take  to  me,  for  my  lust,  a  Moor, 
One  of  your  Gally-slaves,  that  cold  and  hunger, 
,  j  Decrepit  misery,  had  made  a  mock-man, 
|  Than  be  your  Queen. 

Fred.     You  are  bravely  resolute. 

Evan.     I  had  rather  be  a  Leper,  and  be  shun'd, 
And  dye  by  pieces,  rot  into  my  grave, 
Leaving  no  memory  behind  to  know  me, 
Than  be  a  high  Whore  to  eternity. 

Fre.     You  have  another  Gamester  I  perceive  by  ye, 
You  durst  not  slight  me  else. 

Sor.     Tie  find  him  out, 

Though  he  lye  next  thy  heart  hid,  Fie  discover  him, 
And  ye  proud  peat,  I'le  make  you  curse  your  insolence. 

Val.     Tongue  of  an  Angel,  and  the  truth  of  Heaven, 
How  am  I  blest !  [Exit  Val. 

Sor.     Podramo  go  in  hast 

To  my  Sisters  Gentlewoman,  you  know  her  well, 
And  bid  her  send  her  Mistris  presently 
The  lesser  Cabinet  she  keeps  her  Letters  in, 
And  such  like  toyes,  and  bring  it  to  me  instantly.     Away. 

Pod.     I  am  gone.  [Exit. 

Enter  the  Queen  with  two  Ladies. 

Sor.     The  Queen. 

Fred.     Let's  quit  the  place,  she  may  grow  jealous. 

[Ex.  Fred.  Sorano. 

Queen.     So  suddenly  departed  !    what's  the  reason  ? 
Does  my  approach  displease  his  Grace  ?   are  my  eyes 
So  hateful  to  him  ?    or  my  conversation 
Infected,  that  he  flies  me  ?     Fair  Evanthe, 
Are  you  there  ?   then  I  see  his  shame. 

Evan.     'Tis  true,  Madam, 
'Thas  pleas'd  his  goodness  to  be  pleasant  with  me. 


A  WIFE  FOR  A  MONETH    ACT  i 

Que.     'Tis  strange  to  find  thy  modesty  in  this  place, 
Does  the  King  offer  fair  ?    does  thy  face  take  him  ? 
Ne'r  blush  Evanthe,  'tis  a  very  sweet  one, 
Does  he  rain  gold,  and  precious  promises 
Into  thy  lap  ?   will  he  advance  thy  fortunes  ? 
Shalt  thou  be  mighty,  Wench  ? 

Evan.     Never  mock,  Madam  ; 
'Tis  rather  on  your  part  to  be  lamented, 
At  least  reveng'd,  I  can  be  mighty  Lady, 
And  glorious  too,  glorious  and  great,  as  you  are. 

Que.     He  will  Marry  thee  ? 

Evan.     Who  would  not  be  a  Queen,  Madam  ? 

Que.     'Tis  true  Evanthe,  'tis  a  brave  ambition, 
A  golden  dream,  that  may  delude  a  good  mind, 
What  shall  become  of  me  ? 

Evan.     You  must  learn  to  pray, 
Your  age  and  honour  will  become  a  Nunnery. 

Que.     Wilt  thou  remember  me  ?  [Weeps. 

Evan.     She  weeps.     Sweet  Lady 
Upon  my  knees  I  ask  your  sacred  pardon, 
For  my  rude  boldness  :    and  know,  my  sweet  Mistris, 
If  e're  there  were  ambition  in  Evanthe^ 
It  was  and  is  to  do  you  faithful  duties  ; 
'Tis  true  I  have  been  tempted  by  the  King, 
And  with  no  few  and  potent  charms,  to  wrong  ye, 
To  violate  the  chaste  joyes  of  your  bed  j 
And  those  not  taking  hold,  to  usurp  your  state  ; 
But  she  that  has  been  bred  up  under  ye, 
And  daily  fed  upon  your  vertuous  precepts, 
Still  growing  strong  by  example  of  your  goodness, 
Having  no  errant  motion  from  obedience, 
Flyes  from  these  vanities,  as  meer  illusions  ; 
And  arm'd  with  honesty,  defies  all  promises. 
In  token  of  this  truth,  I  lay  my  life  down 
Under  your  sacred  foot,  to  do  you  service. 

Que.    Rise  my  true  friend,  thou  vertuous  bud  of  beauty, 
Thou  Virgins  honour,  sweetly  blow  and  flourish, 
And  that  rude  nipping  wind,  that  seeks  to  blast  thee, 
Or  taint  thy  root,  be  curst  to  all  posterity ; 
To  my  protection  from  this  hour  I  take  ye,   \ 

8 


' 


Sc.  i       A  WIFE  FOR  A  MONETH 

Yes,  and  the  King  shall  know — 

Evan.     Give  his  heat  way,  Madam, 
And  'twill  go  out  again,  he  may  forget  all.  [Exeunt. 

Enter  Camillo,  Cleanthes,  and  Menallo. 

Cam.  What  have  we  to  do  with  the  times  ?  we  cannot  cure 
Let  'em  go  on,  when  they  are  swoln  with  Surfeits  ('em. 
They'l  burst  and  stink,  then  all  the  world  shall  smell  'em. 

Cle.     A  man  may  live  a  bawd,  and  be  an  honest  man. 

Men.     Yes,  and  a  wise  man  too,  'tis  a  vertuous  calling. 

Cam.     To  his  own  Wife  especially,  or  to  his  Sister, 
The  nearer  to  his  own  bloud,  still  the  honester ; 
(There  want  such  honest  men,  would  we  had  more  of  'em. 

Men.     To  be  a  villain  is  no  such  rude  matter. 

Cam.     No,  if  he  be  a  neat  one,  and  a  perfect, 
Art  makes  all  excellent :    what  is  it,  Gentlemen, 

/In  a  good  cause  to  kill  a  dozen  Coxcombs, 
That  blunt  rude  fellows  call  good  Patriots  ? 
Nothing,  nor  ne'r  look'd  after. 

Men.    'Tis  e'en  as  much,  as  easie  too,  as  honest,  and  as  clear, 
To  ravish  Matrons,  and  deflower  coy  Wenches, 
But  here  they  are  so  willing,  'tis  a  complement. 

Cle.     To  pull  down  Churches  with  pretension 
To  build  'em  fairer,  may  be  done  with  honour, 
And  all  this  time  believe  no  gods.  (angers, 

Cam.    I  think  so,  'tis  faith  enough  if  they  name  'em  in  their 
Or  on  their  rotten  Tombs  ingrave  an  Angel ; 
/'[Well,  brave  Alpkonso,  how  happy  had  we  been, 
(If  thou  had'st  raign'd  ! 

Men.     Would  I  had  his  Disease, 
Tyed  like  a  Leprosie  to  my  posterity, 
So  he  were  right  again. 

Cle.     What  is  his  Malady? 

Cam.     Nothing  but  sad  and  [silent  melancholjj  " 
Laden  with  griefs  and  thoughts,  no  man  knows  why  neither; 
The  good  Brandino  Father  to  the  Princess 
Used  all  the  art  and  industry  that  might  be, 
To  free  Alphomo  from  this  dull  calamity, 
And  seat  him  in  his  rule,  he  was  his  eldest 
And  noblest  too,  had  not  fair  nature  stopt  in  him, 


A  WIFE  FOR  A  MONETH     ACT  i 

For  which  cause  this  was  chosen  to  inherit, 
Frederick  the  younger. 

Cle.     Does  he  use  his  Brother 
With  that  respect  and  honour  that  befits  him  ? 

Cam.     He  is  kept  privately,  as  they  pretend, 
To  give  more  ease  and  comfort  to  his  sickness  ; 
But  he  has  honest  servants,  the  grave  Rugio,    |  y 
And  Fryar  Marco,  that  wait  upon  his  Person; 
And  in  a  Monastery  he  lives. 

Men.     'Tis  full  of  sadness, 

To  see  him  when  he  comes  to  his  Fathers  Tomb, 
As  once  a  day  that  is  his  Pilgrimage, 
Whilst  in  Devotion,  the  Quire  sings  an  Anthem  : 
How  piously  he  kneels,  and  like  a  Virgin 
That  some  cross  Fate  had  cozen'd  of  her  Love, 
Weeps  till  the  stubborn  Marble  sweats  with  pity,    1 
And  to  his  groans  the  whole  Quire  bears  a  Chorus. 

Enter  Frederick,  Sorano,  with  the  Cabinet,  and  Podramo. 

Cam.     So  do  I  too.     The  King  with  his  Contrivers, 
This  is  no  place  for  us.  [Exeunt  Lords. 

Fred.     This  is  a  jewel, 
Lay  it  aside,  what  paper's  that  ? 

Pod.     A  Letter, 

But  'tis  a  womans,  Sir,  I  know  by  the  hand, 
And  the  false  Orthography,  J:hey  write  old  Saxon. 

Fred.     May  be  her  ghostly  Mother's  that  instructs  her. 

Sor.     No,  'tis  a  Cousins,  and  came  up  with  a  great  Cake. 

Fred.     What's  that  ? 

Sor.     A  pair  of  Gloves  the  Dutchess  gave  her, 
For  so  the  outside  says. 

Fred.     That  other  paper  ?  (Saints  and  Crosses. 

Sor.     A    Charm    for    the    tooth-ach,    here's    nothing    but 

Fre.     Look  in  that  Box,  methinks  that  should  hold  secrets. 

Pod.     'Tis  Paint,  and  curls  of  Hair,  she  begins  to  exercise. 
A  glass  of  Water  too,  I  would  fain  taste  it, 
But  I  am  wickedly  afraid  'twill  silence  me, 
Never  a  Conduit-Pipe  to  convey  this  water. 

Sor.    These  are  all  Rings,  Deaths-heads,  and  such  Memento's 
Her  Grandmother,  and  worm-eaten  Aunts  left  to  her, 

10 


Sc.  i       A  WIFE  FOR  A  MONETH 

To  tell  her  what  her  Beauty  must  arrive  at. 

Fred.     That,  that.  (Ladies ; 

Pod.     They    are   written    songs,   Sir,    to    provoke    young 
Lord,  here's  a  Prayer-Book,  how  these  agree  ! 
Here's  a  strange  union.  (Patient. 

Sor.     Ever  by  a  surfeit  you  have  a  julep  set  to  cool  the 

Fred.     Those,  those. 

Sor.     They  are  Verses  to  the  blest  Evantbe. 

Fred.     Those  may  discover, 
Read  them  out,  Sorano^\ 

To  the  blest  Evanthe. 

Let  those  complain  that  feel  Loves  cruelty, 

And  in  sad  legends  write  their  woes. 
With  Roses  gently  has  coreEted  me. 
My  War  is  without  rage  or  blows  : 

My  Mistriss  eyes  shine  fair  on  my  desires. 
And  hope  springs  up  enflanfd  with  her  new  fires. 
No  more  an  Exile  will  I  dwell. 

With  folded  arms,  and  sighs  all  day, 
Reckoning  the  torments  of  my  Hell, 
And  flinging  my  sweet  joys  away  : 

I  am  caWd  home  again  to  quiet  peace, 
My  Mistriss  smiles,  and  all  my  sorrows  cease. 
Yet  what  is  living  in  her  Eye? 

Or  being  blest  with  her  sweet  tongue, 
If  these  no  other  joys  imply  ? 

A  golden  Give,  a  pleasing  wrong : 

To  be  your  own  but  one  poor  Month,  Pd  give 
My  Youth,  my  Fortune,  and  then  leave  to  live. 

Fred.     This  is  my  Rival,  that  I  knew  the  hand  now. 

Sor.     I  know  it,  I  have  seen  it,  'tis  ^g/gnVs, 
That  hopeful  Gentlemans,  that  was  brought  up  with  ye, 
And  by  your  charge,  nourish'd  and  fed 
At  the  same  Table,  with  the  same  allowance. 

Fred.     And  all  this  courtesie  to  ruine  me  ? 
Cross  my  desires  ?   'had  better  have  fed  humblier, 
And  stood  at  greater  distance  from  my  fury  : 

ii 


A  WIFE  FOR  A  MONETH    ACT  i 

Go  for  him  quickly,  find  him  instantly, 

Whilst  my  impatient  heart  swells  high  with  choler  ; 

Better  have  lov'd  despair,  and  safer  kiss'd  her.       [Ex.  Lords. 

Enter  Evanthe,  and  Cassandra. 

Evan.     Thou  old  weak  fool,  dost  thou  know  to  what  end, 
To  what  betraying  end  he  got  this  Casket  ? 
Durst  thou  deliver  him  without  my  Ring, 
Or  a  Command  from  mine  own  mouth,  that  Cabinet 
That  holds  my  heart  ?   you  unconsiderate  Ass, 
You  brainless  Ideot. 

Cas.     I  saw  you  go  with  him, 
At  the  first  word  commit  your  Person  to  him, 
And  make  no  scruple,  he  is  your  Brothers  Gentleman, 
And  for  any  thing  I  know,  an  honest  man  ; 
And  might  not  I  upon  the  same  security  deliver  him  a  Box  ? 

Evan.     A  Bottle-head. 

Fred.     You  shall  have  cause  to  chafe,  as  I  will  handle  it. 

Evan.     I  had  rather  thou  hadst  delivered  me  to  Pi  rats, 
Betray'd  me  to  uncurable  diseases, 
Hung  up  my  Picture  in  a  Market-place, 
And  sold  me  to  wild  Bawds. 

Cas.     As  I  take  it,  Madam, 
Your  maiden-head  lies  not  in  that  Cabinet, 
You  have  a  Closer,  and  you  keep  the  Key  too, 
Why  are  you  vex'd  thus  ? 

Evan.     I  could  curse  thee  wickedly, 

And  wish  thee  more  deformed  than  Age  can  make  thee, 
Perpetual  hunger,  and  no  teeth  to  satisfie  it, 
Wait  on  thee  still,  nor  sleep  be  found  to  ease  it ; 
Those  hands  that  gave  the  Casket,  may  the  Palsie 
For  ever  make  unuseful,  even  to  feed  thee  : 
Long  winters,  that  thy  Bones  may  turn  to  Isicles, 
No  Hell  can  thaw  again,  inhabit  by  thee. 
Is  thy  Care  like  thy  Body,  all  one  crookedness  ? 
How  scurvily  thou  cryest  now  !    like  a  Drunkard, 
I'll  have  as  pure  tears  from  a  dirty  spout ; 
Do,  swear  thou  didst  this  ignorantly,  swear  it, 
Swear  and  be  damn'd,  thou  half  Witch. 

Cas.     These  are  fine  words,  well  Madam,  Madam. 

12 


Sc.  i       A  WIFE  FOR  A  MONETH 

Evan.     'Tis  not  well,  thou  mummy, 
'Tis  impudently,  basely  done,  thou  durty — 

Fred.     Has  your  young  sandlity  done  railing,  Madam, 
Against  your  innocent  'Squire  ?    do  you  see  this  Sonnet, 
This  loving  Script?   do  you  know  from  whence  it  came  too? 

Evan.     I  do,  and  dare  avouch  it  pure,  and  honest. 

Fred.     You  have  private  Visitants,  my  noble  Lady, 
That  in  sweet  numbers  court  your  goodly  Vertues, 
And  to  the  height  of  adoration. 

Evan.     Well,  Sir, 
There's  neither  Heresie  nor  Treason  in  it.  (with  ye  ; 

Fred.     A  Prince  may  beg  at  the  door,  whilst  these  feast 
A  favour  or  a  grace,  from  such  as  I  am, 

Enter  Valerio,  and  Podramo. 

Course  common  things.     You  are  welcome;  Pray  come  near 
Do  you  know  this  paper  ?  (Sir, 

Val.     I  am  betray 'd  ;    I  do,  Sir, 
'Tis  mine,  my  hand  and  heart,  if  I  dye  for  her, 
I  am  thy  Martyr,  Love,  and  time  shall  honour  me. 

Cas.     You  sawcy  Sir,  that  came  in  my  Ladies  name, 
For  her  gilt  Cabinet,  you  cheating  Sir  too, 
You  scurvy  Usher,  with  as  scurvy  legs, 
And  a  worse  face,  thou  poor  base  hanging  holder, 
How  durst  thou  come  to  me  with  a  lye  in  thy  mouth  ? 
An  impudent  lye  ? 

Pod.     Hollow,  good  Gilly  you  hobble. 

Cas.     A  stinking  lye,  more  stinking  than  the  teller, 
To  play  the  pilfering  Knave  ?   there  have  been  Rascals 
Brought  up  to  fetch  and  carry,  like  your  Worship, 
That  have  been  hangM  for  less,  whipt  they  are  daily, 
And  if  the  Law  will  do  me  right — 

Pod.     What  then  old  Maggot? 

Cas.    Thy  Mother  was  carted  younger  ;  I'll  have  thy  hide, 
Thy  mangy  hide,  embroidered  with  a  dog-whip, 
As  it  is  now  with  potent  Pox,  and  thicker. 

Fred.     Peace  good  Antiquity,  I'll  have  your  Bones  else 
Ground  into  Gunpowder  to  shoot  at  Cats  with  ; 
One  word  more,  and  I'll  blanch  thee  like  an  almond, 
There's  no  such  cure  for  the  she-falling  sickness 


A  WIFE  FOR  A  MONETH    ACT  i 

As  the  powder  of  a  dryed  Bawds  Skin,  be  silent. 
You  are  very  prodigal  of  your  service  here,  Sir, 
Of  your  life  more  it  seems. 

Val.     I  repent  neither, 

Because  your  Grace  shall  understand  it  comes 
From  the  best  part  of  Love,  my  pure  affection, 
And  kindled  with  chaste  flame,  I  will  not  flye  from  it, 
If  it  be  errour  to  desire  to  marry, 
And  marry  her  that  sanctity  would  dote  on, 
I  have  done  amiss,  if  it  be  a  Treason 
To  graft  my  soul  to  Vertue,  and  to  grow  there, 
To  love  the  tree  that  bears  such  happiness  ; 
Conceive  me,  Sir,  this  fruit  was  ne'r  forbidden  ; 
Nay,  to  desire  to  taste  too,  I  am  Traytor ; 
Had  you  but  plants  enough  of  this  blest  Tree,  Sir, 
Set  round  about  your  Court,  to  beautifie  it, 
Deaths  twice  so  many,  to  dismay  the  approachers, 
The  ground  would  scarce  yield  Graves  to  noble  Lovers. 

Fred.     'Tis  well  maintain'd,  you  wish  and  pray  to  fortune, 
Here  in  your  Sonnet,  and  she  has  heard  your  prayers, 
So  much  you  dote  upon  your  own  undoing, 
But  one  Month  to  enjoy  her  as  your  Wife, 
Though  at  the  expiring  of  that  time  you  dye  for't. 

VaL     I  could  wish  many,  many  Ages,  Sir, 
To  grow  as  old  as  Time  in  her  embraces, 
If  Heaven  would  grant  it,  and  you  smile  upon  it ; 
But  if  my  choice  were  two  hours,  and  then  perish, 
I  would  not  pull  my  heart  back. 

Fred.     You  have  your  wish, 
To  morrow  I  will  see  you  nobly  married, 
Your  Month  take  out  in  all  content  and  pleasure  ; 
The  first  day  of  the  following  Month  you  dye  for't ; 
Kneel  not,  not  all  your  Prayers  can  divert  me  ; 
Now  mark  your  sentence,  mark  it,  scornful  Lady, 
If  when  Valerias  dead,  within  twelve  hours, 
For  that's  your  latest  time,  you  find  not  out 
Another  Husband  on  the  same  condition 
To  marry  you  again,  you  dye  your  self  too. 

Evan.     Now  you  are  merciful,  I  thank  your  Grace. 

Fred.     If  when  you  are  married,  you  but  seek  to  'scape 

14 


ACT  n    A  WIFE  FOR  A  MONETH 

Out  of  the  Kingdom,  you,  or  she,  or  both, 
Or  to  infedl  mens  minds  with  hot  commotions, 
You  dye  both  instantly  ;  will  you  love  me  now,  Lady  ? 
My  tale  will  now  be  heard,  but  now  I  scorn  ye.         [Exit. 

\Manent  Valeric,  and  Evanthe. 

Evan.     Is  our  fair  love,  our  honest,  our  entire, 
Come  to  this  hazard  ?  (for  it, 

Val.    'Tis  a  noble  one,  and  I  am  much  in  love  with  malice 
Envy  could  not  have  studied  me  a  way, 
Nor  fortune  pointed  out  a  path  to  Honour, 
Straighter  and  nobler,  if  she  had  her  eyes ; 
When  I  have  once  enjoy'd  my  sweet  Evanthe, 
And  blest  my  Youth  with  her  most  dear  embraces, 
I  have  done  my  journey  here,  my  day  is  out, 
All  that  the  World  has  else  is  foolery, 
Labour,  and  loss  of  time ;  what  should  I  live  for  ? 
Think  but  mans  life  a  Month,  and  we  are  happy. 
I  would  not  have  my  joys  grow  old  for  any  thing  ; 

Paradise,  as  thou  art,  my  Evanthe, 
Is  only  made  to  wonder  at  a  little, 
Enough  for  human  eyes,  and  then  to  wander 
Come,  do  not  weep,  sweet,  you  dishonour  me, 
Your  tears  and  griefs  but  question  my  ability, 
Whether  I  dare  dye  ;    Do  you  love  intirely  ? 

Evan.     You  know  I  do. 

Pal.     Then  grudge  not  my  felicity. 

Evan.     I'll  to  the  Queen. 

Val.     Do  any  thing  that's  honest, 
But  if  you  sue  to  him,  in  Death  I  hate  you.  [Exeunt. 


Affus   Secundus.     Scena    Prima. 

Enter  Camillo,  Cleanthes,  and  Menallo. 

Cam.   \"\7AS  there  ever  heard  of  such  a  Marriage? 

V  V        Men.     Marriage  and  Hanging  go  by  destiny, 
'Tis  the  old  Proverb,  now  they  come  together. 

Cle.     But  a  Month  married,  then  to  lose  his  life  for't  ? 
I  would  have  a  long  Month  sure,  that  pays  the  Souldiers. 

15 


A  WIFE  FOR  A  MONETH    ACT  n 


Enter  Tony  with   Urinal^  * 


Cam.  Or  get  all  the  Almanacks  burnt,  that  were  a  rare 
And  have  no  Month  remembred.  How  now  Tony  ?  (trick, 
Whose  water  are  you  casting  ? 

Tony.     A  sick  Gentlemans, 
Is  very  sick,  much  troubled  with  the  Stone, 
He  should  not  live  above  a  Month,  by  his  Urine, 
About  St.  David's  Day  it  will  go  hard  with  him,          / 
He  will  then  be  troubled  with  a  pain  in  his  Neck  too. 

Men.     A  pestilent  fool ;    when  wilt  thou  marry,  Tony  ? 

Ton.    When  I  mean  to  be  hang'd,  &  'tis  the  surer  contract. 

Cle.     What  think  you  of  this  Marriage  of  Falerio's  ? 

Tony.  They  have  given  him  a  hot  Custard,  and  mean  to 
burn  his  mouth  with  it ;  had  I  known  he  had  been  given  to 
dye  honourably,  I  would  have  helpt  him  to  a  Wench,  a  rare 
one,  should  have  kilPd  him  in  three  weeks,  and  sav'd  the 
sentence.  (too. 

Cam.     There  be  them  would  have  spared  ten  days  of  that 

Tony.     It  may  be  so,  you  have   Women  of  all  Vertues : 
There  be  some  Guns  that  I  could  bring  him  too, 
Some  mortar-pieces  that  are  plac'd  i'th'  Suburbs, 
Would  tear  him  into  quarters  in  two  hours, 
There  be  also  of  the  race  of  the  old  Cockatrices, 
That  would  dispatch  him  with  once  looking  on  him. ' 

Men.  What  Month  wouldst  thou  chuse,  Tony,  if  thou 
hadst  the  like  Fortune  ? 

Tony.  I  would  chuse  a  mull'd  sack-month,  to  comfort  my 
Belly,  for  sure  my  Back  would  ake  for't,  and  at  the  months 
end  I  would  be  most  dismally  drunk,  &  scorn  the  gallows. 

Me.    I  would  chuse  March,  for  I  would  come  in  like  a  Lion. 

To.    But  you'd  go  out  like  a  Lamb  when  you  went  to  hang- 

Ca.    I  would  take  April,  take  the  sweet  o'th'  year,     (ing. 
And  kiss  my  Wench  upon  the  tender  flowrets, 
Tumble  on  every  Green,  and  as  the  Birds  sung, 
Embrace,  and  melt  away  my  Soul  in  pleasure. 

Tony.     You  would  go  a  Maying  gayly  to  the  Gallows, 

Cle.     Prithee  tell  us  some  news. 

Tony.     I'll  tell  ye  all  I  know, 
You  may  be  honest,  and  poor  fools,  as  I  am, 

16 


Sc.  i       A  WIFE  FOR  A  MONETH 

And  blow  your  fingers  ends. 

Cam.     That's  no  news,  Fool.  (knaves, 

Tony.     You  may  be  knaves  then  when  you  please,  stark 
And  build  fair  houses,  but  your  heirs  shall  have  none  of  'em. 

Men.     These  are  undoubted. 

Tony.     Truth  is  not  worth  the  hearing, 
I'll  tell  you  news  then  ;  \There  was  a  drunken  Saylor, 
That  got  a  Mermaid  with  child  as  she  went  a  milking, 
And  now  she  sues  him  in  the  Bawdy-Court  for  it, 
The  infant-Monster  is  brought  up  in  Fish-Street.  \ 

Cam.     I,  this  is  something. 

Tony.     I'll  tell  you  more,  there  was  a  Fish  taken, 
A  monstrous  Fish,  with  a  sword  by  his  side,  a  long  sword, 
A  Pike  in's  Neck,  and  a  Gun  in's  Nose,  a  huge  Gun, 
And  letters  of  Mart  in's  mouth,  from  the  Duke  of  Florence. 

Cle.     This  is  a  monstrous  lye. 

Tony.     I  do  confess  it :  ('em  ? 

Do  you   think   I   would  tell  you   truths,  that   dare   not   hear 
You  are  honest  things,  we  Courtiers  scorn  to  converse  with. 

[Exit. 

Cam.     A  plaguey  fool :    but  let's  consider,  Gentlemen, 
Why  the  Queen  strives  not  to  oppose  this  sentence, 
The  Kingdoms  honour  suffers  in  this  cruelty. 

Men.     No  doubt  the  Queen,  though  she  be  vertuous, 
Winks  at  the  Marriage,  for  by  that  only  means 
The  Kings  flame  lessens  to  the  youthful  Lady, 
If  not  goes  out ;    within  this  Month,  I  doubt  not, 
She  hopes  to  rock  asleep  his  anger  also  ; 
Shall  we  go  see  the  preparation  ? 
'Tis  time,  for  strangers  come  to  view  the  wonder.      (dings. 

Cam.     Come,  let's  away,  send   my   friends  happier  wed 

[Exeunt. 

Enter  Queen  and  Evanthe. 

Queen.     You  shall  be  merry,  come,  I'll  have  it  so, 
Can  there  be  any  nature  so  unnoble  ? 
Or  anger  so  inhumane  to  pursue  this  ? 

Evan.     I  fear  there  is. 

Queen.     Your  fears  are  poor  and  foolish, 
Though  he  be  hasty,  and  his  anger  death, 

B.-F.  v.  B  17 


A  WIFE  FOR  A  MONETH    ACT  n 

His  will  like  torrents,  not  to  be  resisted, 

Yet  Law  and  Justice  go  along  to  guide  him  ; 

And  what  Law,  or  what  Justice  can  he  find 

To  justifie  his  Will?   what  Aft  or  Statute, 

By  Humane,  or  Divine  establishment, 

Left  to  direft  us,  that  makes  Marriage  death  ? 

Honest  fair  Wedlock  ?   'twas  given  for  encrease, 

For  preservation  of  Mankind  I  take  it ; 

He  must  be  more  than  man  then  that  dare  break  it. 

Come,  dress  ye  handsomely,  you  shall  have  my  jewels, 

And  put  a  face  on  that  contemns  base  fortune, 

'Twill  make  him  more  insult  to  see  you  fearful,  > 

Outlook  his  anger. 

Evan.     O  my  Valerio  \ 
Be  witness  my  pure  mind,  'tis  thee  I  grieve  for. 

Queen.     But  shew  it  not,  I  would  so  crucifie  him 
With  an  innocent  neglect  of  what  he  can  do, 
A  brave  strong  pious  scorn,  that  I  would  shake  him  ; 
Put  all  the  wanton  Cupids  in  thine  eyes, 
And  all  the  graces  on  that  nature  gave  thee, 
Make  up  thy  beauty  to  that  height  of  excellence, 
I'll  help  thee,  and  forgive  thee,  as  if  Venus 
Were  now  again  to  catch  the  god  of  War, 
In  his  most  rugged  anger,  when  thou  hast  him, 
(As  'tis  impossible  he  should  resist  thee) 
And  kneeling  at  thy  conquering  feet  for  mercy, 
Then  shew  thy  Vertue,  then  again  despise  him, 
And  all  his  power,  then  with  a  look  of  honour 
Mingled  with  noble  chastity,  strike  him  dead. 

Evan.     Good  Madam  dress  me, 
You  arm  me  bravely. 

Queen.     Make  him  know  his  cruelty 
Begins  with  him  first,  he  must  surfer  for  it, 
And  that  thy  sentence  is  so  welcome  to  thee, 
And  to  thy  noble  Lord,  you  long  to  meet  it. 
Stamp  such  a  deep  impression  of  thy  Beauty 
Into  his  soul,  and  of  thy  worthiness, 
That  when  Valerio  and  Evanthe  sleep 
In  one  rich  earth,  hung  round  about  with  blessings, 
He  may  run  mad,  and  curse  his  aft  ;    be  lusty, 

18 


Sc.  i      A  WIFE  FOR  A  MONETH 

I'll  teach  thee  how  to  dye  too,  if  thou  fear'st  it. 

Ev.     I  thank  your  Grace,  you  have  prepared  me  strongly, 
And  my  weak  mind. 

Queen.     Death  is  unwelcome  never, 
Unless  it  be  to  tortur'd  minds  and  sick  souls, 
That  make  their  own  Hells ;    'tis  such  a  benefit 
When  it  comes  crown'd  with  honour,  shews  so  sweet  too  ! 
Though  they  paint  it  ugly,  that's  but  to  restrain  us, 
For  every  living  thing  would  love  it  else, 
Fly  boldly  to  their  peace  ere  Nature  call'd  'em  ; 
The  Rest  we  have  from  labour,  and  from  trouble 
Is  some  Incitement,  every  thing  alike, 
The  poor  Slave  that  lies  private  has  his  liberty, 
As  amply  as  his  Master,  in  that  Tomb 
The  Earth  as  light  upon  him,  and  the  flowers 
That  grow  about  him,  smell  as  sweet,  and  flourish. 
But  when  we  love  with  honour  to  our  ends, 
When  Memory  and  Vertue  are  our  Mourners  ; 
What  pleasure's  there  !    they  are  infinite,  Evanthe  ; 
Only,  my  vertuous  Wench,  we  want  our  senses, 
That  benefit  we  are  barr'd,  'twould  make  us  proud  else, 
And  lazy  to  look  up  to  happier  life, 
The  Blessings  of  the  people  would  so  swell  us. 

Evan.     Good  Madam,  dress  me,  you  have  drest  my  soul, 
The  merriest  Bride  I'll  be  for  all  this  misery, 
The  proudest  to  some  Eyes  too. 

£ueen.     'Twill  do  better,  come,  shrink  no  more. 
van.     I  am  too  confident.  [Exeunt. 

Enter  Frederick,  and  Sorano. 

Sor.     You  are  too  remiss  and  wanton  in  your  angers, 
You  mold  things  handsomely;  and  then  neglect  'em  ; 
A  powerful  Prince  should  be  constant  to  his  power  still, 
And  hold  up  what  he  builds,  then  People  fear  him  : 
When  he  lets  loose  his  hand  it  shews  a  weakness, 
And  men  examine  or  contemn  his  greatness : 
A  scorn  of  this  high  kind  should  have  call'd  up 
A  revenge  equal,  not  a  pity  in  you. 

Fred.     She  is  thy  Sister. 

Sor.     And  she  were  my  Mother, 

B2  19 


A  WIFE  FOR  A  MONETH    ACT  11 

Whilst  I  conceive  'tis  you  she  has  wrong'd,  I  hate  her, 
And  shake  her  nearness  off;    I  study,  Sir, 
To  satisfie  your  angers  that  are  just, 
Before  your  pleasures. 

Fred.     I  have  done  that  already, 
I  fear  has  pulPd  too  many  curses  on  me. 

Sor.     Curses  or  envies,  on  Valerias  head, 
Would  you  take  my  counsel,  Sir,  they  should  all  light, 
And  with  the  weight  not  only  crack  his  scull, 
But  his  fair  credit ;    the  exquisite  vexation 
I  have  devis'd,  so  please  you  give  way  in't, 
And  let  it  work,  shall  more  afflicl:  his  soul, 
And  trench  upon  that  honour  that  he  brags  of, 
Than  fear  of  Death  in  all  the  frights  he  carries  ; 
If  you  sit  down  here  they  will  both  abuse  ye, 
Laugh  at  your  poor  relenting  power,  and  scorn  ye. 
What  satisfaction  can  their  deaths  bring  to  you, 
That  are  prepar'd,  and  proud  to  dye,  and  willingly, 
And  at  their  ends  will  thank  you  for  that  honour  ? 
How  are  you  nearer  the  desire  you  aim  at  ? 
Or  if  it  be  revenge  your  anger  covets, 
How  can  their  single  deaths  give  you  content,  Sir  ? 
Petty  revenges  end  in  blood,  sleight  angers, 
A  Princes  rage  should  find  out  new  diseases, 
Death  were  a  pleasure  too,  to  pay  proud  fools  with. 

Fred.     What  should  I  do  ? 

Sor.     Add  but  your  power  unto  me, 
Make  me  but  strong  by  your  protection, 
And  you  shall  see  what  joy,  and  what  delight, 
What  infinite  pleasure  this  poor  Month  shall  yield  him. 
I'll  make  him  wish  he  were  dead  on  his  Marriage-day, 
Or  bed-rid  with  old  age,  I'll  make  him  curse, 
And  cry  and  curse,  give  me  but  power. 

Fred.     You  have  it, 
Here,  take  my  Ring,  I  am  content  he  pay  for't.\ 

Sor.     It  shall  be  now  revenge,  as  I  will  handle  it, 
He  shall  live  after  this  to  beg  his  life  too, 
Twenty  to  one  by  this  thread,  as  I'll  weave  it, 
Evanthe  shall  be  yours. 

Fred.     Take  all  authority,  and  be  most  happy. 

20 


Sc.  i       A  WIFE  FOR  A  MONETH 

Sor.     Good  Sir,  no  more  pity.  [Exeunt. 

Enter  Tony,  three  Citizens,  and  three  Wives. 

I  Wife.     Good  Master  Tony,  put  me  in. 

Tony.     Where  do  you  dwell  ?  (Mutton. 

1  Wife.     Forsooth,  at  the  sign   of  the  great  Shoulder  of 
Ton.     A  hungry  man  would  hunt  your  house  out  instantly, 

Keep  the  Dogs  from  your  door ;   Is  this  Lettice  Ruff  your 
Husband  ?   a  fine  sharp  sallet  to  your  sign. 

2  Wife.     Will  you  put  me  in  too  ? 

3  Wife.     And  me,  good  Master  Tony. 

Tony.    Put  ye  all  in  ?  you  had  best  come  twenty  more ;  you 
Think  'tis  easie,  a  trick  of  legerdemain,  to  put  ye  all  in, 
'T  would  pose  a  fellow  that  had  twice  my  body, 
Though  it  were  all  made  into  chines  and  fillets. 

2  Wi.     Put's  into  th'  wedding,  Sir,  we  would  fain  see  that. 

1  Wife.     And  the  brave  Masque  too. 

To.    You  two  are  pretty  women,  are  you  their  husbands? 

2  Citiz.     Yes,  for  want  of  better. 

Tony.     I  think  so  too,  you  would  not  be  so  mad  else 
To  turn  'em  loose  to  a  company  of  young  Courtiers, 
That  swarm  like  Bees  in  May,  when  they  see  young  wen- 
You  must  not  squeak.  (ches ; 

3  Wife.     No  Sir,  we  are  better  tutor'd. 

Tony.     Nor  if  a  young  Lord  offer  you  the  courtesie — 

2  Wife.     We  know  what  'tis,  Sir. 
Tony.     Nor  you  must  not  grumble, 

A  If  you  be  thrust  up  hard,  we  thrust  most  furiously. 

I  Wife.     We  know  the  worst. 

Tony.     Get  you  two  in  then  quietly, 

And  shift  for  your  selves ;    we  must  have  no  old  women, 
They  are  out  of  use,  unless  they  have  petitions, 
Besides  they  cough  so  loud  they  drown  the  Musick. 
You  would  go  in  too,  but  there  is  no  place  for  ye  ? 
I  am  sorry  for't,  go  and  forget  your  wives, 
Or  pray  they  may  be  able  to  suffer  patiently. 
You  may  have  Heirs  may  prove  wise  Aldermen, 
Go,  or  I'le  call  the  Guard. 

3  Citi.     We  will  get  in,  we'l  venture  broken  pates  else. 

[Ex.  Citiz.  and  Women. 

21 


A  WIFE  FOR  A  MONETH  ACT  11 

Tony.     'Tis  impossible, 

You  are  too  securely  arm'd  ;    how  they  flock  hither, 
And  with  what  joy  the  women  run  by  heaps 
To  see  this  Marriage  !    they  tickle  to  think  of  it, 
They  hope  for  every  month  a  husband  too  ; 
Still  how  they  run,  and  how  the  wittals  follow  'em, 
The  weak  things  that  are  worn  between  the  leggs, 
That  brushing,  dressing,  nor  new  naps  can  mend,    j 
How  they  post  to  see  their  own  confusion  ! 
This  is  a  merry  world. 

Enter  Frederick. 

Fred.     Look  to  the  door  Sirrah, 
Thou  art  a  fool,  and  may'st  do  mischief  lawfully. 

Tony.     Give  me  your  hand,  you  are  my  Brother  fool, 
You  may  both  make  the  Law,  and  marr  it  presently. 
Do  you  love  a  wench  ? 

Fred.     Who  does  not,  fool  ?  (marry  her. 

Tony.     Not  I,  unless  you  will  give  me  a  longer  lease  to 

Fre.    What  are  all  these  that  come,  what  business  have  they  ? 

Tony.     Some  come  to  gape,  those  are  my  fellow  fools  ; 
Some  to  get  home  their  wives,  those  be  their  own  fools ; 
Some  to  rejoyce  with  thee,  those  be  the  times  fools  ; 
And  some  I  fear  to  curse  thee,  those  are  poor  fools, 

Enter  Cassand[ra],  an  old  Lady  passing  over. 

A  set  people  call  them  honest.     Look,  look  King,  look, 
A  weather-beaten  Lady  new  caresn'd. 

Fred.     An  old  one. 

Tony.     The  glasses  of  her  eyes  are  new  rub'd  over, 
And  the  worm-eaten  records  in  her  face  are  daub'd  up  neatly  ? 
She  layes  her  breasts  out  too,  like  to  poch'd  eggs 
That  had  the  yelks  suckt  out ;    they  get  new  heads  also, 
New  teeth,  new  tongues,  for  the  old  are  all  worn  out, 
And  as  'tis  hop'd,  new  tayls. 

Fred.     For  what  ? 

Tony.     For  old  Courtiers, 
The  young  ones  are  too  stirring  for  their  travels. 

Fred.     Go  leave  your  knavery,  and  help  to  keep  the  door 
I  will  have  no  such  press.  (well, 

22 


Sc.  i       A  WIFE  FOR  A  MONETH 

Tony.     Lay  thy  hand  o'thy  heart  King. 
Fred.     Fie  have  ye  whipt. 

Tony.     The  fool  and  thou  art  parted.  [Exit. 

Fred.     Sorano  work,  and  free  me  from  this  spell, 
'Twixt  love  and  scorn  there's  nothing  felt  but  hell.       [Exit. 

Enter  Valerio,  Camillo,  Cleanthes,  Menallo, 
and  Servants. 

Val.     Tye  on  my  Scarf,  you  are  so  long  about  me, 
Good  my  Lords  help,  give  me  my  other  Cloak, 
That  Hat  and  Feather,  Lord  what  a  Taylor's  this, 
To  make  me  up  thus  straight  !    one  sigh  would  burst  me, 
I  have  not  room  to  breath,  come  button,  button, 
Button,  apace. 

Cam.     I  am  glad  to  see  you  merry  Sir. 

Val.     'Twould  make  you  merry  had  you  such  a  wife, 
And  such  an  age  to  injoy  her  in. 

Men.     An  age  Sir  ? 

Val.     A  moneth's  an  age  to  him  that  is  contented, 
What  should  I  seek  for  more  ?    give  me  my  sword. 
Ha  my  good  Lords,  that  every  one  of  you  now 
Had  but  a  Lady  of  that  youth  and  beauty 
To  bless  your  selves  this  night  with,  would  ye  not  ? 
Pray  ye  speak  uprightly. 

Cle.     We  confess  ye  happy, 

And  we  could  well  wish  such  another  Banquet, 
But  on  that  price  my  Lord — 

Val.     'Twere  nothing  else, 
No  man  can  ever  come  to  aim  at  Heaven, 
But  by  the  knowledge  of  a  Hell.     These  shooes  are  heavy, 
And  if  I  should  be  call'd  to  dance  they'l  clog  me, 
Get  me  some^  pumps^>  I'le  tell  ye  brave  Camilla, 
And  you  dear  Triends,  the  King  has  honour'd  me, 
Out  of  his  gracious  favour  has  much  honour'd  me, 
To  limit  me  my  time,  for  who  would  live  long  ? 
Who  would  be  old  ?    'tis  such  a  weariness, 
Such  a  disease,  that  hangs  like  lead  upon  us. 
As  it  increases,  so  vexations, 
Griefs  of  the  minde,  pains  of  the  feeble  body, 
Rheums,  coughs,  catarrhs,  we  are  but  our  living  coffins ; 

23 


A  WIFE  FOR  A  MONETH   ACT  11 

Besides,  the  fair  soul's  old  too,  it  grows  covetous, 
Which  shews  all  honour  is  departed  from  us, 
And  we  are  Earth  again. 

Cle.     You  make  fair  use  Sir. 

Val.     I  would  not  live  to  learn  to  lye  Cleanthes 
For  all  the  world,  old  men  are  prone  to  that  too ; 
Thou  that  hast  been  a  Souldier,  Menallo^ 
A  noble  Souldier,  and  defied  all  danger, 
Adopted  thy  brave  arm  the  heir  to  victory, 
Would 'st  thou  live  so  long  till  thy  strength  forsook  thee  ? 
Till  thou  grew'st  only  a  long  tedious  story 
Of  what  thou  hadst  been  ?    till  thy  sword  hang  by, 
And  lazie  Spiders  fill'd  the  hilt  with  cobwebs  ? 

Men.     No  sure,  I  would  not. 

Pal.     'Tis  not  fit  ye  should, 
To  dye  a  young  man  is  to  be  an  Angel, 
Our  great  good  parts  put  wings  unto  our  souls  : 
We'l  have  a  rouse  before  we  go  to  bed  friends, 
Pray  ye  tell  me,  is't  a  hansome  Mask  we  have  ? 

Cam.     We  understand  so. 

Val.     And  the  young  gent,  dance  ? 

Cle.     They  do  Sir,  and  some  dance  well. 

Val.     They  must  before  the  Ladies, 
We'l  have  a  rouse  before  we  go  to  bed  friends, 
A  lusty  one,  'twill  make  my  blood  dance  too.  [Mustek. 

Cam.     Ten  if  you  please. 

Val.     And  we'l  be  wondrous  merry, 
They  stay  sure,  come,  I  hear  the  Musick  forward, 
You  shall  have  all  Gloves  presently.  [Exit. 

Men.     We  attend  Sir,  but  first  we  must  look  to  th' 
Doors.  [Knocking  within. 

The  King  has  charged  us.  [Exeunt. 

Enter  two  Servants. 

1  Ser.    What  a  noise  do  you  keep  there  ?  call  my  fellows 
O'  the  Guard  ;    you  must  cease  now  untill  the  King  be 
Enter'd,  he  is  gone  to  th'  Temple  now. 

2  Serv.     Look  to  that  back  door,  and  keep  it  fast, 
They  swarm  like  Bees  about  it. 

24 


Sc.  i       A  WIFE  FOR  A  MONETH 

Enter  Camillo,  Cleanthes,  Menallo,  Tony  following. 

Cam.     Keep  back  those  Citizens,  and  let  their  wives  in, 
Their  handsome  wives. 

Tony.     They  have  crowded  me  to  Verjuyce, 
I  sweat  like  a  Butter-box. 

I  Serv.     Stand  further  off  there. 

Men.    Take  the  women  aside,  and  talk  with  'em  in  private, 
Give  'em  that  they  came  for. 

Tony.     The  whole  Court  cannot  do  it ; 
Besides,  the  next  Mask  if  we  use  'em  so, 
They'l  come  by  millions  to  expeft  our  largess  ; 
We  have  broke  a  hundred  heads. 

Cle.     Are  they  so  tender  ? 
-,   Ton.     But  'twas  behind,  before  they  have  all  murrions. 

Cam.    Let  in  those  Ladies,  make  'em  room  for  shame  there. 

Ton.     They  are  no  Ladies,  there's  one  bald  before  'em, 
A  gent,  bald,  they  are  curtail'd  queans  in  hired  clothes, 
They  come  out  of  Spain  I  think,  they  are  very  sultry. 

Men.     Keep  'em  in  breath  for  an  Embassadour. 

[Knocks  within. 

Me  thinks  my  nose  shakes  at  their  memories, 
What  bounsing's  that  ? 

Within.     I  am  one  of  the  Musick  Sir. 

Within.     I  have  sweat-meats  for  the  banquet. 

Cam.     Let  'em  in. 

Ton.     They  lye  my  Lord,  they  come  to  seek  their  wives, 
Two  broken  Citizens. 

Cam.     Break  'em  more,  they  are  but  brusled  yet. 
Bold  Rascals,  offer  to  disturb  your  wives  ? 

Cle.    Lock  the  doors  fast,  the  Musick,  hark,  the  King  comes. 

A  Curtain  drawn. 

The    King,     Queen,     Valeric,     Evanthe,     Ladies,     Attendants, 
Camillo,  Cleanthes,  Sorano,  Menallo. 

A  Mask. 

Cupid  descends,  the  Graces  sittingj^-him,  LCupid  being  bound  the 
Graces  unbind  him,  he  speaks. 

Cup.     Unbind  me,  my  delight,  this  night  is  mine, 
Now  let  me  look  upon  what  Stars  here  shine, 

25 


A  WIFE  FOR  A  MONETH  ACT  m 

Let  me  behold  the  beauties,  then  clap  high 
My  cullorM  wings,  proud  of  my  Deity  ; 
I  am  satisfied,  bind  me  again,  and  fast, 
My  angry  Bow  will  make  too  great  a  wast 
Of  beauty  else,  now  call  my  Maskers  in. 
Call  with  a  Song,  and  let  the  sports  begin  ; 
Call  all  my  servants  the  effects  of  love, 
And  to  a  measure  let  them  nobly  move. 
Come  you  servants  of  proud  love, 

Come  away  : 

Fairly,  nobly,  gently  move. 
Too  long,  too  long  you  make  us  stay ; 
Fancy,  Desire,  Delight,  Hope,  Fear, 
Distrust  and  Jealousie,  be  you  too  here  ; 
Consuming  Care,  and  raging  Ire, 
And  Poverty  in  poor  attire, 
March  fairly  in,  and  last  Despair  ; 
Now  full  Musick  strike  the  Air. 

Enter  the  Maskers,  Fancy,  Desire,  Delight,  Hope,  Fear, 
Distrust,  Jealousie,  Care,  Ire,  Despair,  they  dance,  after 
which  Cupid  speaks. 

Cup.     Away,  I  have  done,  the  day  begins  to  light, 
Lovers,  you  know  your  fate,  good  night,  good  night. 

Cupid  and  the  Graces  ascend  in  the  Chariot. 

King.     Come  to  the  Banquet,  when  that's  ended  Sir, 
Fie  see  you  i'  bed,  and  so  good  night ;    be  merry, 
You  have  a  sweet  bed-fellow. 

Val.     I  thank  your  Grace, 
And  ever  shall  be  bound  unto  your  nobleness. 

King.     I  pray  I  may  deserve  your  thanks,  set  forward. 

[Exeunt. 

Affius   T'ertius.     Scena    Prima. 

Enter  divers  Monks,  Alphonso  going  to  the  Tomb,  Rugio, 
and  Frier  Marco,  discover  the  fomb  and  a  Chair. 

Mar.  r  I  ^He  night  grows  on,  lead  softly  to  the  Tomb, 
JL       And  sing  not  till  I  bid  ye  ;   let  the  Musick 

26 


Sc.  i      A  WIFE  FOR  A  MONETH 

Play  gently  as  he  passes. 

Rug.     O  fair  picture, 

That  wert  the  living  hope  of  all  our  honours; 
How  are  we  banisht  from  the  joy  we  dreamt  of! 
Will  he  ne're  speak  more  ? 

Mar.     'Tis  full  three  moneths  Lord  Rugio, 
Since  any  articulate  sound  came  from  his  tongue, 
Set  him  down  gently.  [Sits  in  a  Chair. 

Rug.     What  should  the  reason  be  Sir? 

Mar.     As  'tis  in  nature  with  those  loving  Husbands, 
That  sympathize  their  wives  pains,  and  their  throes 
When  they  are  breeding,  and  'tis  usuall  too, 
We  have  it  by  experience  ;    so  in  him  Sir, 
In  this  most  noble  spirit  that  now  suffers ; 
For  when  his  honoured  Father  good  Brandino 
Fell  sick,  he  felt  the  griefs,  and  labour'd  with  them, 
His  fits  and  his  disease  he  still  inherited, 
Grew  the  same  thing,  and  had  not  nature  check'd  him, 
Strength,  and  ability,  he  had  dyed  that  hour  too. 

Rug.     Embleme  of  noble  love  ! 

Mar.     That  very  minute 

His  Fathers  breath  forsook  him,  that  same  instant, 
A  rare  example  of  his  piety, 
And  love  paternal,  the  Organ  of  his  tongue 
Was  never  heard  to  sound  again  ;    so  near  death 
He  seeks  to  wait  upon  his  worthy  Father, 
But  that  we  force  his  meat,  he  were  one  body. 

Rug.     He  points  to'th'  Tomb. 

Mar.     That  is  the  place  he  honours, 
A  house  I  fear  he  will  not  be  long  out  of. 
He  will  to  th'  Tomb,  good  my  Lord  lend  your  hand  ; 
Now  sing  the  Funeral  Song,  and  let  him  kneel, 
For  then  he  is  pleas'd.  [A  Song. 

Rug.     Heaven  lend  thy  powerfull  hand, 
And  ease  this  Prince. 

Mar.     He  will  pass  back  again.  [Exeunt. 

Enter  Valeric. 

Val.     They  drink  abundantly,  I  am  hot  with  wine  too, 
Lustily  warm,  Tie  steal  now  to  my  happiness, 

27 


A  WIFE  FOR  A  MONETH  ACT  HI 

'Tis  midnight,  and  the  silent  hour  invites  me, 

But  she  is  up  still,  and  attends  the  Queen  ; 

Thou  dew  of  wine  and  sleep  hang  on  their  eye-lids, 

Steep  their  dull  senses  in  the  healths  they  drink, 

That  I  may  quickly  find  my  lov'd  Evantbe. 

The  King  is  merry  too,  and  drank  unto  me, 

Sign  of  fair  peace,  O  this  nights  blessedness  ! 

If  I  had  forty  heads  I  would  give  all  for  't. 

Is  not  the  end  of  our  ambitions, 

Of  all  our  humane  studies,  and  our  travels,      \ 

Of  our  desires,  the  obtaining  of  our  wishes  ?     \  j 

Certain  it  is,  and  there  man  makes  his  Center. 

I  have  obtain'd  Evanthe,  I  have  married  her, 

Can  any  fortune  keep  me  from  injoying  her  ? 

Enter  Sorano. 

I  have  my  wish,  what's  left  me  to  accuse  now  ? 

I  am  friends  with  all  the  world,  but  thy  base  malice  ; 

Go  glory  in  thy  mischiefs  thou  proud  man, 

And  cry  it  to  the  world  thou  hast  ruin'd  vertue  ; 

How  I  contemn  thee  and  thy  petty  malice  ! 

And  with  what  scorn,  I  look  down  on  thy  practice  ! 

Sor.     You'l  sing  me  a  new  Song  anon  Valeria^ 
And  wish  these  hot  words — 

Pal.     I  despise  thee  fellow, 

Thy  threats,  or  flatteries,  all  I  fling  behind  me ; 
I  have  my  end,  I  have  thy  noble  Sister, 
A  name  too  worthy  of  thy  blood  ;    I  have  married  her, 
And  will  injoy  her  too. 

Sor.     'Tis  very  likely. 

VaL     And  that  short  moneth  I  have  to  bless  me  with  her 
I'le  make  an  age,  I'le  reckon  each  embrace 
A  year  of  pleasure,  and  each  night  a  Jubile, 
Every  quick  kiss  a  Spring ;    and  when  I  mean 
To  lose  my  self  in  all  delightfulness, 
Twenty  sweet  Summers  I  will  tye  together 
In  spight  of  thee,  and  thy  malignant  Master  : 
I  will  dye  old  in  love,  though  young  in  pleasure. 

Sor.     But  that  I  [h]ate  thee  deadly,  I  could  pity  thee, 
Thou  art  the  poorest  miserable  thing 

28 


Sc.  i      A  WIFE  FOR  A  MONETH 

This  day  on  earth  ;    Fie  tell  thee  why  Valeria, 
All  thou  esteemest,  and  build'st  upon  for  happiness, 
For  joy,  for  pleasure,  for  delight  is  past  thee, 
And  like  a  wanton  dream  already  vanisht. 

Val.     Is  my  love  false  ? 

Sor.     No,  she  is  constant  to  thee, 
Constant  to  all  thy  misery  she  shall  be, 
And  curse  thee  too. 

Pal.     Is  my  strong  body  weakn'd, 
Charm'd,  or  abus'd  with  subtle  drink  ?   speak  villain. 

Sor.     Neither,  I  dare  speak,  thou  art  still  as  lusty 
As  when  thou  lov'dst  her  first,  as  strong  and  hopefull, 
The  month  thou  hast  given  thee  is  a  month  of  misery, 
And  where  thou  think'st  each  hour  shall  yield  a  pleasure, 
Look  for  a  killing  pain,  for  thou  shalt  find  it 
Before  thou  dyest,  each  minute  shall  prepare  it, 
And  ring  so  many  knels  to  sad  afflictions  ; 
The  King  has  given  thee  a  long  month  to  dye  in, 
And  miserably  dye. 

Val     Undo  thy  Riddle, 
I  am  prepar'd  what  ever  fate  shall  follow. 

Sor.     Dost  thou  see  this  Ring  ? 

Val.     I  know  it  too. 

Sor.     Then  mark  me, 

By  vertue  of  this  Ring  this  I  pronounce  to  thee, 
'Tis  the  Kings  will. 

Fal*     Let  me  know  it  suddenly.  . 

\Sor.     If  thou  dost  offer  to  touch  Evanthes  body 
Beyond  a  kiss,  though  thou  art  married  to  her, 
And  lawfully  as  thou  think'st  may'st  injoy  her, 
That  minute  she  shall  dye. 

Pal.     O  Devil— 

Sor.     If  thou  discover  this  command  unto  her, 
Or  to  a  friend  that  shall  importune  thee, 
And  why  thou  abstainest,  and  from  whose  will,  ye  all  perish, 
Upon  the  self-same  forfeit :    are  ye  fitted  Sir  ? 
Now  if  ye  love  her,  ye  may  preserve  her  life  still, 
If  not,  you  know  the  worst,  how  falls  your  month  out  ? 

Val.     This  tyranny  could  never  be  invented 
But  in  the  school  of  Hell,  Earth  is  too  innocent ;  \ 

29 


A  WIFE  FOR  A  MONETH  ACT  m 

Not  to  injoy  her  when  she  is  my  wife  ? 
When  she  is  willing  too  ? 

Sor.     She  is  most  willing, 

And  will  run  mad  to  miss ;    but  if  you  hit  her, 
Be  sure  you  hit  her  home,  and  kill  her  with  it ; 
There  are  such  women  that  will  dye  with  pleasure : 
The  Axe  will  follow  else,  that  will  not  fail 
To  fetch  her  Maiden  head,  and  dispatch  her  quickly ; 
Then  shall  the  world  know  you  are  the  cause  of  Murther, 
And  as  'tis  requisite  your  life  shall  pay  for't. 

VaL     Thou  dost  but  jest,  thou  canst  not  be  so  monstrous 
As  thou  proclaim'st  thy  self;    thou  art  her  Brother, 
And  there  must  be  a  feeling  heart  within  thee 
Of  her  afflictions ;    wert  thou  a  stranger  to  us, 
And  bred  amongst  wild  rocks,  thy  nature  wild  too, 
Affection  in  thee  as  thy  breeding,  cold, 
And  unrelenting  as  the  rocks  that  nourisht  thee, 
Yet  thou  must  shake  to  tell  me  this ;    they  tremble 
When  the  rude  sea  threatens  divorce  amongst  'em, 
They  that  are  senceless  things  shake  at  a  tempest ; 
Thou  art  a  man — 

Sor.     Be  thou  too  then,  'twill  try  thee, 
And  patience  now  will  best  become  thy  nobleness. 

Val.     Invent  some  other  torment  to  afflict  me, 
All,  if  thou  please,  put  all  afflictions  on  me, 
Study  thy  brains  out  for  'em,  so  this  be  none 
I  care  not  of  what  nature,  nor  what  cruelty, 
Nor  of  what  length. 

Sor.     This  is  enough  to  vex  ye. 

Pal.     The  tale  of  Tantalus  is  now  prov'd  true, 
And  from  me  shall  be  registred  Authentick ; 
To  have  my  joyes  within  my  arms,  and  lawfull, 
Mine  own  delights,  yet  dare  not  touch. 
Even  as  thou  hatest  me  Brother,  let  no  young  man  know  this, 
As  thou  shalt  hope  for  peace  when  thou  most  needest  it, 
Peace  in  thy  soul,  desire  the  King  to  kill  me, 
Make  me  a  traitor,  any  thing,  I'le  yield  to  it, 
And  give  thee  cause  so  I  may  dye  immediately  ; 
Lock  me  in  Prison  where  no  Sun  may  see  me, 
In  walls  so  thick  no  hope  may  e're  come  at  mej 

3° 


Sc.  i       A  WIFE  FOR  A  MONETH 

Keep  me  from  meat,  and  drink,  and  sleep,  Tie  bless  thee ; 
Give  me  some  damned  potion  to  deliver  me, 
That  I  may  never  know  my  self  again,  forget 
My  Country,  kindred,  name  and  fortune  ;    last, 
That  my  chaste  love  may  never  appear  before  me, 
This  were  some  comfort. 

Sor.     All  I  have  I  have  brought  ye, 
And  much  good  may  it  do  ye  my  dear  Brother, 
See  ye  observe  it  well ;    you  will  find  about  ye 
Many  eyes  set,  that  shall  o're-look  your  actions, 
If  you  transgress  ye  know,  and  so  I  leave  ye.  [Exit. 

Pal.     Heaven  be  not  angry,  and  I  have  some  hope  yet. 

[Exit. 

Enter  Frederick,  and  Sorano. 

Fred.     Hast  thou  been  with  him  ? 

Sor.     Yes,  and  given  him  that  Sir 

Will  make  him  curse  his  Birth  ;    I  told  ye  which  way. 
Did  you  but  see  him  Sir,  but  look  upon  him, 
With  what  a  troubled  and  dejected  nature 
He  walks  now  in  a  mist,  with  what  a  silence, 
As  if  he  were  the  shrowd  he  wrapt  himself  in, 
And  no  more  of  Valeria  but  his  shadow, 
He  seeks  obscurity  to  hide  his  thoughts  in, 
You  would  wonder  and  admire  for  all  you  know  it, 
His  jollity  is  down,  valed  to  the  ground  Sir, 
And  his  high  hopes  of  full  delights  and  pleasures 
Are  turn'd  tormenters  to  him,  strong  diseases. 

Fred.     But  is  there  hope  of  her  ? 

Sor.     It  must  fall  necessary, 
She  must  dislike  him,  quarrel  with  his  person, 
For  women  once  deluded  are  next  Devils, 
And  in  the  height  of  that  opinion  Sir, 
You  shall  put  on  again,  and  she  must  meet  ye. 

Fred.     I  am  glad  of  this. 

Sor.     Fie  tell  ye  all  the  circumstance 
Within  this  hour,  but  sure  I  heard  your  grace 
To  day  as  I  attended,  make  some  stops, 
Some  broken  speech[e]s,  and  some  sighs  between, 
And  then  your  Brothers  name  I  heard  distinctly, 

31 


A  WIFE  FOR  A  MONETH  ACT  m 

And  some  sad  wishes  after. 

Fred.     Ye  are  iW  right  Sir, 
I  would  he  were  as  sad  as  I  could  wish  him, 
Sad  as  the  Earth. 

Sor.     Would  ye  have  it  so  ? '• 

Fred.     Thou  hearest  me, 

Though  he  be  sick  with  small  hope  of  recovery, 
That  hope  still  lives,  and  mens  eyes  live  upon  it, 
And  in  their  eye  their  wishes  ;  my  Sorano, 
Were  he  but  cold  once  in  the  tomb  he  dotes  on, 
As  'tis  the  fittest  place  for  melancholy, 
My  Court  should  be  another  Paradise, 
And  flow  with  all  delights. 

Sor.     Go  to  your  pleasures,  let  me  alone  with  this, 
Hope  shall  not  trouble  ye,  nor  he  three  dayes. 

Fred.     I  shall  be  bound  unto  thee. 

Enter  Valerio,  Camillo,  Cleanthes,  Menallo. 

Sor.     Tie  do  it  neatly  too,  no  doubt  shall  catch  me.      ('em. 

Fred.    Be  gone,  they  are  going  to  bed,  I'le  bid  good  night  to 

Sor.     And  mark  the  man,  you'l  scarce  know  'tis  Valerio. 

[Exit. 

Cam.     Chear  up  my  noble  Lord,  the  minute's  come, 
You  shall  injoy  the  abstract  of  all  sweetness, 
We  did  you  wrong,  you  need  no  wine  to  warm  ye, 
Desire  shoots  through  your  eyes  like  sudden  wild-fires. 

Val.     Beshrew  me  Lords,  the  wine  has  made  me  dull, 
I  am  I  know  not  what. 

Fred.     Good  pleasure  to  ye, 

Good  night  and  long  too,  as  you  find  your  appetite 
You  may  fall  to. 

Val.     I  do  beseech  your  grace, 
For  which  of  all  my  loves  and  services 
Have  I  deserved  this  ? 

Fred.     I  am  not  bound  to  answer  ye. 

Val.     Nor  I  bound  to  obey  in  unjust  aftions. 

Fred.     Do  as  you  please,  you  know  the  penalty, 
And  as  I  have  a  soul  it  shall  be  executed ; 
Nay  look  not  pale,  I  am  not  used  to  fear  Sir, 
If  you  respecl  your  Lady,  good  night  to  ye.  [Exit. 

32 


Sc.  i       A  WIFE  FOR  A  MONETH 

Val.     But  for  respect  to  her  and  to  my  duty, 
That  reverent  duty  that  I  owe  my  Sovera[ig]n, 
Which  anger  has  no  power  to  snatch  me  from, 
The  good  night  should  be  thine  ;    good  night  for  ever. 
The  King  is  wanton  Lords,  he  would  needs  know  of  me 
How  many  nick  chases  I  would  make  to  night. 

Men.     My  Lord,  no  doubt  you'l  prove  a  perfect  gamester. 

Val.     Faith  no,  I  am  unacquainted  with  the  pleasure, 
Bungle  a  set  I  may :    how  my  heart  trembles, 
And  beats  my  breast  as  it  would  break  his  way  out  ! 
Good  night  my  noble  friends. 

Cle.     Nay  we  must  see  you  toward  your  bed  my  Lord. 

Val.     Good  faith  it  needs  not, 
'Tis  late,  and  I  shall  trouble  you. 

Cam.     No,  no,  till  the  Bride  come  Sir. 

Val.     I  beseech  you  leave  me, 
You  will  make  me  bashfull  else,  I  am  so  foolish, 
Besides,  I  have  some  few  devotions  Lords, 
And  he  that  can  pray  with  such  a  book  in's  arms —       (ye. 

Ca\m\.     We'l  leave  ye  then,  and  a  sweet  night  wait  upon 

Men.     And  a  sweet  issue  of  this  sweet  night  crown  ye. 

Cle.     All  nights  and  days  be  such  till  you  grow  old  Sir. 

[Exeunt  Lords. 

Val.     I  thank  ye,  'tis  a  curse  sufficient  for  me, 
A  labour'd  one  too,  though  you  mean  a  blessing. 
What  shall  I  do  ?     I  j^ni  like  a  wretched  Debtor, 
That  has  a  sum  me  to  teTiHel^oTTTrie  forfeit  ~ 
Of  all  he  is  worth,  yet  dare  not  offer  it. 
Other  men  see  the  Sun,  yet  I  must  wink  at  it ; 
And  though  I  know  'tis  perfect  day,  deny  it : 
My  veins  are  all  on  fire,  and  burn  like  Mtnay 
Youth  and  desire  beat  larums  to  my  blood, 
And  adde  fresh  fuel  to  my  warm  affections. 
I  must  injoy  her,  yet  when  I  consider, 
When  I  collect  my  self,  and  weigh  her  danger, 
The  tyrants  will,  and  his  power  taught  to  murther, 
My  tender  care  controlls  my  blood  within  me, 
And  like  a  cold  fit  of  a  peevish  Ague 
Creeps  to  my  soul,  and  flings  an  Ice  upon  me, 

B.-F.  v.  c  33 


A  WIFE  FOR  A  MONETH  ACT  in 

Enter  Queen,  Evanthe,  Ladies,  and  Fool. 

That  locks  all  powers  of  youth  up  :    but  prevention — 

0  what  a  blessedness  'twere  to  be  old  now, 
To  be  unable,  bed-rid  with  diseases, 

Or  halt  on  Crutches  to  meet  holy  Hymen  ; 
What  a  rare  benefit  !    but  I  am  curst, 
That  that  speaks  other  men  most  freely  happy, 
And  makes  all  eyes  hang  on  their  expectations, 
Must  prove  the  bane  of  me,  youth,  and  ability. 
She  comes  to  bed,  how  shall  I  entertain  her  ? 

Tony.     Nay  I  come  after  too,  take  the  fool  with  ye, 
For  lightly  he  is  ever  one  at  Weddings. 

Queen.    Evantbe,  make  ye  unready,  your  Lord  staies  for  ye, 
And  prethee  be  merry. 

Tony.     Be  very  merry,  Chicken, 
Thy  Lord  will  pipe  to  thee  anon,  and  make  thee  dance  too. 

Lady.     Will  he  so,  good-man  ass  ? 

Tony.     Yes  good  filly, 

And  you  had  such  a  Pipe,  that  piped  so  sweetly, 
You  would  dance  to  death,  you  have  learnt  your  sinque  a  pace. 

Evan.     Your  grace  desires  that  that  is  too  free  in  me, 

1  am  merry  at  the  heart. 

Tony.     Thou  wilt  be  anon,  the  young  smug  boy  will  give 

(thee  a  sweet  cordial. 

Evan.     I  am  so  taken  up  in  all  my  thoughts, 
So  possest  Madam  with  the  lawfull  sweets 
I  shall  this  night  partake  of  with  my  Lord, 
So  far  transported  (pardon  my  immodesty.) 

Val.     Alas  poor  wench,  how  shall  I  recompence  thee  ? 

Evan.     That  though  they  must  be  short,  and  snatcht  away 
E're  they  grow  ripe,  yet  I  shall  far  prefer  'em  (too> 

Before  a  tedious  pleasure  with  repentance. 

Pal.     O  how  my  heart  akes  ! 

Evan.     Take  off  my  Jewels  Ladies, 
And  let  my  Ruff  loose,  I  shall  bid  good  night  to  ye, 
My  Lord  staies  here. 

Queen.     My  wench,  I  thank  thee  heartily, 
For  learning  how  to  use  thy  few  hours  handsomly, 
They  will  be  years  I  hope  j    off  with  your  Gown  now, 

34 


Sc.  i       A  WIFE  FOR  A  MONETH 

Lay  down  the  bed  there  ! 

Tony.     Shall  I  get  into  it  and  warm  it  for  thee  ?  a  fools  fire 
And  Fie  so  buss  thee.  (is  a  fine  thing, 

Queen.     Tie  have  ye  whipt  ye  Rascal. 

Tony.     That  will  provoke  me  more,  Fie  talk  with  thy  hus- 
He's  a  wise  man  I  hope,  v  (band, 

Evan.     Good  night  dear  Madam, 
Ladies,  no  further  service,  I  am  well, 
I  do  beseech  your  grace  to  give  us  this  leave, 
My  Lord  and  I  to  one  another  freely, 
And  privately,  may  do  all  other  Ceremonies, 
Women  and  Page  we'l  be  to  one  another, 
And  trouble  you  no  farther. 

Tony.     Art  thou  a  wise  man  ? 

Val.     I  cannot  tell  thee  Tonyy  ask  my  neighbours. 

Tony.     If  thou  beest  so,  go  lye  with  me  to  night, 
The  old  fool  will  lye  quieter  than  the  young  one, 
And  give  thee  more  sleep,  thou  wilt  look  to  morrow  else 
Worse  than  the  prodigal  fool  the  Ballad  speaks  of, 
That  was  squeezed  through  a  horn. 

Val.     I  shall  take  thy  counsel. 

Queen.    Why  then  good  night,  good  night  my  best  Evan- 
My  worthy  maid,  and  as  that  name  shall  vanish,  (the, 

A  worthy  wife,  a  long  and  happy ;    follow  Sirrah. 

Evan.     That  shall  be  my  care, 
Goodness  rest  with  your  Grace. 

Queen.     Be  lusty  Lord,  and  take  your  Lady  to  ye, 
And  that  power  that  shall  part  ye  be  unhappy. 

Val.     Sweet  rest  unto  ye,  to  ye  all  sweet  Ladies ; 
Tony  good  night. 

Tony.     Shall  not  the  fool  stay  with  thee  ? 

Queen.     Come  away  Sirrah.  \Exeunt  Queen,  Ladies. 

Tony.     How  the  fool  is  sought  for !  sweet  Malt  is  made  of 

(easie  fire, 

A  hasty  horse  will  quickly  tire,  a  sudden  leaper  sticks  i'th* 

(mire, 

Phlebotomy  and  the  word  lye  nigher,  take  heed  of  friend  I 

(thee  require  ; 

This  from  an  Almanack  I  stole,  and  learnft]  this  Lesson  from 

(a  fool. 

C2  35 


A  WIFE  FOR  A  MONETH   ACT  in 

Good  night  my  Bird.  [Exit  Tony. 

Evan.     Good  night  wise  Master  'Tony  ; 
Will  ye  to  bed  my  Lord  ?     Come,  let  me  help  ye. 

Val.     To  bed  Evanthe,  art  thou  sleepy  ? 

Evant.     No,  I  shall  be  worse  if  you  look  sad  upon  me, 
Pray  ye  let's  to  bed. 

Val.     I  am  not  well  my  love. 

Evant.    Fie  make  ye  well,  there's  no  such  Physick  for  ye 
As  your  warm  Mistris  arms. 

Val.     Art  thou  so  cunning  ? 

Evant.     I  speak  not  by  experience,  'pray  ye  mistake  not; 
But  if  you  love  me — 

Val.     I  do  love  so  dearly, 
So  much  above  the  base  bent  of  desire, 
I  know  not  how  to  answer  thee. 

Evant.     To  bed  then, 

There  I  shall  better  credit  ye  ;    fie  my  Lord, 
Will  ye  put  a  maid  to't,  to  teach  ye  what  to  do  ? 
An  innocent  maid  ?     Are  ye  so  cold  a  Lover  ? 
In  truth  you  make  me  blush,  'tis  midnight  too, 
And  'tis  no  stoln  love,  but  authorised  openly, 
No  sin  we  covet,  pray  let  me  undress  ye, 
You  shall  help  me  ;    prethee  sweet  Valer'w  ; 
Be  not  so  sad,  the  King  will  be  more  mercifull. 

Val.     May  not  I  love  thy  mind  ? 

Evant.     And  I  yours  too, 
'Tis  a  most  noble  one,  adorn'd  with  vertue  ; 
But  if  we  love  not  one  another  really, 
And  put  our  bodies  and  our  mind  together, 
And  so  make  up  the  concord  of  affection, 
Our  love  will  prove  but  a  blind  superstition  : 
This  is  no  school  to  argue  in  my  Lord, 
Nor  have  we  time  to  talk  away  allow'd  us, 
Pray  let's  dispatch,  if  any  one  should  come 
And  find  us  at  this  distance,  what  would  they  think  ? 
Come,  kiss  me  and  to  bed. 

Val.     That  I  dare  do,  and  kiss  again. 

Evant.     Spare  not,  they  are  your  own  Sir. 

Val.     But  to  injoy  thee  is  to  be  luxurious ; 
Too  sensuall  in  my  love,  and  too  ambitious ; 

36 


Sc.  i       A  WIFE  FOR  A  MONETH 

0  how  I  burn  !    to  pluck  thee  from  the  stalk, 
Where  now  thou  grow'st  a  sweet  bud  and  a  beauteous, 
And  bear'st  the  prime  and  honour  of  the  Garden, 

Is  but  to  violate  thy  spring,  and  spoil  thee. 

Evant.     To  let  me  blow,  and  fall  alone  would  anger  ye. 

Pal.     Let's  sit  together  thus,  and  as  we  sit 
Feed  on  the  sweets  of  one  anothers  souls, 
The  happiness  of  love  is  contemplation, 
The  blessedness  of  love  is  pure  affection, 
Where  no  allay  of  adluall  dull  desires, 
Of  pleasure  that  partakes  with  wantonness, 
Of  humane  fire  that  burns  out  as  it  kindles, 
And  leaves  the  body  but  a  poor  repentance, 
Can  ever  mix,  let's  fix  on  that  Evanthe, 
That's  everlasting,  the  tother  casuall ; 
Eternity  breeds  one,  the  other  fortune, 
Blind  as  her  self,  and  full  of  all  afflictions. 
Shall  we  love  vertuously  ? 

Evant.     I  ever  loved  so. 

Val.     And  only  think  our  love  ;    the  rarest  pleasure, 
And  that  we  most  desire,  let  it  be  humane, 
If  once  injoyed  grows  *stale,  and  cloys  our  appetites  ; 

1  would  not  lessen  in  my  love  for  any  thing, 
Nor  find  thee  but  the  same  in  my  short  journey, 
For  my  loves  safety. 

Evant.     Now  I  see  I  am  old  Sir, 
Old  and  ill  favour'd  too,  poor  and  despis'd, 
And  am  not  worth  your  noble  Fellowship, 
Your  fellowship  in  Love,  you  would  not  else 
Thus  cunningly  seek  to  betray  a  maid, 
A  maid  that  honours  you  thus  piously  ; 
Strive  to  abuse  the  pious  love  she  brings  ye. 
Farewel  my  Lord,  since  ye  have  a  better  Mistris, 
For  it  must  seem  so,  or  ye  are  no  man, 
A  younger,  happier,  I  shall  give  her  room, 
So  much  I  love  ye  still. 

Val.     Stay  my  Evanthe, 

Heaven  bear  me  witness,  thou  art  all  I  love, 
All  I  desire,  and  now  have  pity  on  me, 
I  never  lyed  before  j    forgive  me  Justice, 

37 


A  WIFE  FOR  A  MONETH  ACT  m 

Youth  and  affection  stop  your  ears  unto  me. 

Evant.     Why  do  you  weep  ?   if  I  have  spoke  too  harshly, 
And  unbeseeming,  my  beloved  Lord, 
My  care  and  duty,  pardon  me. 

Val.     O  hear  me, 

Hear  me  Evanthe  ;    I  am  all  on  torture, 
And  this  lye  tears  my  conscience  as  I  vent  it ; 
I  am  no  man. 

Evant.     How  Sir  ? 

Val.     No  man  for  pleasure,  no  womans  man. 

Eva.    Goodness  forbid  my  Lord,  sure  you  abuse  your  self. 

Val.     'Tis  true  Evanthe  ; 
I  shame  to  say  you  will  find  it.  [Weeps. 

Evant.     He  weeps  bitterly, 

'Tis  my  hard  fortune,  bless  all  young  maids  from  it ; 
Is  there  no  help  my  Lord  in  art  will  comfort  ye  ? 

Val.     I  hope  there  is. 

Evant.     How  long  have  you  been  destitute  ? 

Pal.     Since  I  was  young. 

Evant.     'Tis  hard  to  dye  for  nothing, 
Now  you  shall  know  'tis  not  the  pleasure  Sir, 
(For  I  am  compell'd  to  love  you  spiritually) 
That  women  aim  at,  I  affect  ye  for, 
'Tis  for  your  worth  ;    and  kiss  me,  be  at  peace, 
Because  I  ever  loved  ye,  I  still  honour  ye, 
And  with  all  duty  to  my  Husband  follow  ye ; 
Will  ye  to  bed  now  ?    ye  are  asham'd  i[t]  seems ; 
Pygmalion  pray'd  and  his  cold  stone  took  life, 
You  do  not  know  with  what  zeal  I  shall  ask  Sir, 
And  what  rare  miracle  that  may  work  upon  ye  ; 
Still  blush  ?    prescribe  your  Law. 

Val.     I  prethee  pardon  me, 

To  bed,  and  Fie  sit  by  thee,  and  mourn  with  thee, 
Mourn  both  our  fortunes,  our  unhappy  ones  : 
Do  not  despise  me,  make  me  not  more  wretched, 
I  pray  to  Heaven  when  I  am  gone  Evanthe, 
As  my  poor  date  is  but  a  span  of  time  now, 
To  recompence  thy  noble  patience, 
Thy  love  and  vertue  with  a  fruitfull  husband, 
Honest  and  honourable, 

38 


ACT  iv   A  WIFE  FOR  A  MONETH 

Evant.     Come,  you  have  made  me  weep  now, 
All  fond  desire  dye  here,  and  welcom  chastity, 
Honour  and  chastity,  do  what  you  please  Sir.  [Exeunt. 

Attus  Quartus.    Scena  Prima. 

Enter  at  one  door  Rugio,  and  Frier  Marco,  at  the 
other  door  Sorano,  with  a  little  glass  viol. 

Rug.  TT  7" Hat  ails  this  piece  of  mischief  to  look  sad? 
V V       He  seems  to  weep  too. 

Mar.     Something  is  a  hatching, 
And  of  some  bloody  nature  too,  Lord  Rugio, 
This  Crocodile  mourns  thus  cunningly. 

Sor.     Hail  holy  Father, 
And  good  day  to  the  good  Lord  Rugio, 
How  fares  the  sad  Prince  I  beseech  ye  Sir  ? 

Rug.     'Tis  like  you  know,  you  need  not  ask  that  question, 
You  have  your  eyes  and  watches  on  his  miseries 
As  near  as  ours,  I  would  they  were  as  tender. 

Mar.    Can  you  do  him  good?  as  the  King  and  you  ap- 
So  he  is  still,  as  you  desir'd  I  think  too,  (pointed  him, 

For  every  day  he  is  worse  (Heaven  pardon  all) 
Put  off  your  sorrow,  you  may  laugh  now  Lord, 
He  cannot  last  long  to  disturb  your  Master, 
You  have  done  worthy  service  to  his  Brother, 
And  he  most  memorable  love. 

Sor.     You  do  not  know  Sir 

With  what  remorse  I  ask,  nor  with  what  weariness 
I  groan  and  bow  under  this  load  of  honour, 
And  how  my  soul  sighs  for  the  beastly  services, 
I  have  done  his  pleasures,  these  be  witness  with  me, 
And  from  your  piety  believe  me  Father, 
I  would  as  willingly  unclothe  my  self 
Of  title,  that  becomes  me  not  I  know  ; 
Good  men,  and  great  names  best  agree  together  ; 
Cast  off  the  glorious  favours,  and  the  trappings 
Of  sound  and  honour,  wealth  and  promises, 
His  wanton  pleasures  have  flung  on  my  weakness, 
And  chuse  to  serve  my  countries  cause  and  vertues, 

39 


A  WIFE  FOR  A  MONETH   ACT  iv 

Poorly  and  honestly,  and  redeem  my  mines, 
As  I  would  hope  remission  of  my  mischiefs. 

Rug.     Old  and  experienc'd  men,  my  Lord  Soranoy 
Are  not  so  quickly  caught  with  gilt  hypocrisie, 
You  pull  your  claws  in  now  and  fawn  upon  us, 
As  lyons  do  to  intice  poor  foolish  beasts  ; 
And  beasts  we  should  be  too  if  we  believ'd  ye, 
Go  exercise  your  Art. 

Sor.     For  Heaven  sake  scorn  me  not, 
Nor  adde  more  Hell  to  my  afflicted  soul 
Than  I  feel  here  ;    as  you  are  honourable, 
As  you  are  charitable  look  gently  on  me, 
I  will  no  more  to  Court,  be  no  more  Devil, 
I  know  I  must  be  hated  even  of  him 
That  was  my  Love  now,  and  the  more  he  loves  me 
For  his  foul  ends,  when  they  shall  once  appear  to  him, 
Muster  before  his  conscience  and  accuse  him, 
The  fouler  and  the  more  falls  his  displeasure, 
Princes  are  fading  things,  so  are  their  favours.  (morse. 

Afar.     He  weeps  again,  his  heart  is  toucht  sure  with  re- 

Sor.     See  this,  and  give  me  fair  attention  good  my  Lord, 
And  worthy  Father  see,  within  this  viol 
The  remedy  and  cure  of  all  my  honour, 
And  of  the  sad  Prince  lyes. 

Rug.     What  new  trick's  this? 

Sor.     'Tis  true,  I  have  done  Offices  abundantly 
111  and  prodigious  to  the  Prince  Alphomo^ 
And  whilst  I  was  a  knave  I  sought  his  death  too. 

Rug.     You  are  too  late  convicted  to  be  good  yet. 

Sor.     But  Father,  when  I  felt  this  part  afflict  me, 
This  inward  part,  and  call'd  me  to  an  audit 
Of  my  misdeeds  and  mischiefs — 

Mar.     Well,  go  on  Sir. 

Sor.     O  then,  then,  then  what  was  my  glory  then  Father  ? 
The  favour  of  the  King,  what  did  that  ease  me  ? 
What  was  it  to  be  bow'd  to  by  all  creatures  ? 
Worship[t],  and  courted,  what  did  this  avail  me  ? 
I  was  a  wretch,  a  poor  lost  wretch. 

Mar.     Still  better. 

Sor.     Till  in  the  midst  of  all  my  grief  I  found 

40 


Sc.  i      A  WIFE  FOR  A  MONETH 

Repentance,  and  a  learned  man  to  give  the  means  to  it, 

A  Jew,  an  honest  and  a  rare  Physician,  I  • 

Of  him  I  had  this  Jewel ;    'tis  a  Jewel, 

And  at  the  price  of  all  my  wealth  I  bought  it  : 

If  the  King  knew  it  I  must  lose  my  head, 

And  willingly,  most  willingly  I  would  suffer, 

A  child  may  take  it,  'tis  so  sweet  in  working. 

Mar.     To  whom  would  you  apply  it  ? 

Sor.     To  the  sick  Prince, 
It  will  in  half  a  day  dissolve  his  melancholy. 

Rug.     I  do  believe,  and  give  him  sleep  for  ever. 
What  impudence  is  this,  and  what  base  malice, 
To  make  us  instruments  of  thy  abuses  ? 
Are  we  set  here  to  poison  him  ? 

Sor.     Mistake  not,  yet  I  must  needs  say,  'tis  a  noble  care, 
And  worthy  vertuous  servants  ;    if  you  will  see 
A  flourishing  estate  again  in  Naples, 
And  great  Alphonso  reign  that's  truly  good, 
And  like  himself  able  to  make  all  excellent ; 
Give  him  this  drink,  and  this  good  health  unto  him.      [Drinks. 
I  am  not  so  desperate  yet  to  kill  my  self, 
Never  look  on  me  as  a  guilty  man, 
Nor  on  the  water  as  a  speedy  poison  : 
I  am  not  mad,  nor  laid  out  all  my  treasure, 
My  conscience  and  my  credit  to  abuse  ye  ; 
How  nimbly  and  how  chearfully  it  works  now 
Upon  my  heart  and  head  !    sure  I  am  a  new  man, 
There  is  no  sadness  that  I  feel  within  me, 
But  as  it  meets  it,  like  a  lazie  vapour 
How  it  flyes  off.     Here,  give  it  him  with  speed, 
You  are  more  guilty  than  I  ever  was, 
And  worthier  of  the  name  of  evil  subjedts, 
If  but  an  hour  you  hold  this  from  his  health. 

Rug.    'Tis  some  rare  vertuous  thing  sure,  he  is  a  good  man, 
It  must  be  so,  come,  let's  apply  it  presently, 
And  may  it  sweetly  work. 

Sor.     Pray  let  me  hear  on't,  and  carry  it  close  my  Lords. 

Mar.     Yes,  good  Sorano.  [Ex.  Rugio,  Marco. 

Sor.     Do  my  good  fools,  my  honest  pious  coxcombs, 
My  wary  fools  too  :  have  I  caught  your  wisedoms  ? 


A  WIFE  FOR  A  MONETH   ACT  iv 

You  never  dream't  I  knew  an  Antidote, 

Nor  how  to  take  it  to  secure  mine  own  life ;  * 

I  am  an  Asse,  go,  give  him  the  fine  cordial, 

And  when  you  have  done  go  dig  his  grave,  good  Frier, 

Some  two  hours  hence  we  shall  have  such  a  bawling, 

And  roaring  up  and  down  for  Aqua  vitce, 

Such  rubbing,  and  such  nointing,  and  such  cooling, 

I  have  sent  him  that  will  make  a  bonfire  in's  belly, 

If  he  recover  it,  there  is  no  heat  in  Hell  sure.  [Exit. 

Enter  Frederick,  and  Podrano. 

Fred.     Podrano  ? 

Pod.     Sir. 

Fred.    Call  hither  Lord  Valeria,  and  let  none  trouble  us. 

Pod.     It  shall  be  done  Sir.  [Exit. 

Fred.     I  know  he  wants  no  additions  to  his  tortures, 
He  has  enough  for  humane  blood  to  carry, 
Yet  I  must  vex  him  further  ; 
So  many  that  I  wonder  his  hot  youth 
And  high-bred  spirit  breaks  not  into  fury  ; 
I  must  yet  torture  him  a  little  further, 
And  make  my  self  sport  with  his  miseries, 
My  anger  is  too  poor  else.     Here  he  comes, 

Enter  Val. 

Now  my  young  married  Lord,  how  do  you  feel  your  self? 
You  have  the  happiness  you  ever  aim'd  at, 
The  joy  and  pleasure. 

VaL     Would  you  had  the  like  Sir. 

Fred.     You  tumble  in  delights  with  your  sweet  Lady, 
And  draw  the  minutes  out  in  dear  embraces, 
You  live  a  right  Lords  life. 

Val.     Would  you  had  tryed  it, 
That  you  might  know  the  vertue  but  to  suffer, 
Your  anger  though  it  be  unjust  and  insolent, 
Sits  handsomer  upon  you  than  your  scorn, 
To  do  a  wilfull  ill  and  glory  in  it, 
Is  to  do  it  double,  double  to  be  damn'd  too. 

Fred.     Hast  thou  not  found  a  loving  and  free  Prince, 
High  in  his  favours  too  ;    that  has  confer'd 

42 


Sc.  i       A  WIFE  FOR  A  MONETH 

Such  hearts  ease,  and  such  heaps  of  comfort  on  thee, 
All  thou  cou'dst  ask  ? 

VaL     You  are  grown  a  tyrant  too 
Upon  so  suffering,  and  so  still  a  subject  ; 
You  have  put  upon  me  such  a  punishment, 
That  if  your  youth  were  honest  it  would  blush  at  : 
But  you  are  a  shame  to  nature,  as  to  vertue. 
Pull  not  my  rage  upon  ye,  'tis  so  just, 
It  will  give  way  to  no  respect ;  my  life, 
My  innocent  life,  I  dare  maintain  it  Sir, 
Like  a  wanton  prodigal  you  have  flung  away, 
Had  I  a  thousand  more  I  would  allow  'em, 
And  be  as  careless  of  'em  as  your  will  is  ; 
But  to  deny  those  rights  the  Law  hath  given  me, 
The  holy  Law,  and  make  her  life  the  penance, 
Is  such  a  studied  and  unheard  of  malice, 
No  heart  that  is  not  hired  from  Hell  dare  think  of; 
To  do  it  then  too,  when  my  hopes  were  high, 
High  as  my  Blood,  all  my  desires  upon  me, 
My  free  affections  ready  to  embrace  her, 

Enter  Cassandra. 

And  she  mine  own;  do  you  smile  at  this?  is't  done  well? 
Is  there  not  Heaven  above  you  that  sees  all  ?  [Exit  Val. 

Fred.    Come  hither  Time,  how  does  your  noble  Mistriss? 

Cas.     As  a  Gentlewoman  may  do  in  her  case  that's  newly 
married,  Sir  : 
Sickly  sometimes,  and  fond  on't,  like  your  Majesty. 

Fred.     She  is  breeding  then  ? 

Cas.     She  wants  much  of  her  colour, 
And  has  her  qualms  as  Ladies  use  to  have,  Sir, 
And  her  disgusts. 

Fred.     And  keeps  her  Chamber  ? 

Cas.     Yes  Sir. 

Fred.     And  eats  good  Broths  and  Jellies. 

Cas.     I  am  sure  she  sighs,  Sir,  and  weeps,  good  Lady. 

Fred.     Alas,  good  Lady,  for  it, 
She  should  have  one  could  comfort  her,  Cassandra, 
Could  turn  those  tears  to  joys,  a  lusty  Comforter. 

Cas.     A  comfortable  man  does  well  at  all  hours, 

43 


A  WIFE  FOR  A  MONETH   ACT  iv 

For  he  brings  comfortable  things.  (eaten  Onions, 

Fred.     Come  hither,  &  hold  your  fann  between,  you  have 
Her  breath  stinks  like  a  Fox,  her  teeth  are  contagious,      / 
These  old  women  are  all  Elder-Pipes,  do  ye  mark  me  ?  * 

[Gives  a  Purse. 

Cas.     Yes,  Sir,  but  does  your  Grace  think  I  am  fit, 
That  am  both  old  and  vertuous  ? 

Fred.     Therefore  the  fitter,  the  older  still  the  better, 
I  know  thou  art  as  holy  as  an  old  Cope, 
Yet  upon  necessary  use — 

Cas.     'Tis  true,  Sir. 

Fred.     Her  feeling  sense  is  fierce  still,  speak  unto  her, 
You  are  familiar  ;    speak  I  say,  unto  her, 
Speak  to  the  purpose  ;    tell  her  this,  and  this. 

Cas.     Alas,  she  is  honest,  Sir,  she  is  very  honest, 
And  would  you  have  my  gravity — 

Fred.     I,  I,  your  gravity  will  become  the  cause  the  better, 
I'll  look  thee  out  a  Knight  shall  make  thee  a  Lady  too, 
A  lusty  Knight,  and  one  that  shall  be  ruled  by  thee, 
And  add  to  these,  I'll  make  'em  good,  no  mincing, 
Nor  ducking  out  of  nicety,  good  Lady, 
But  do  it  home,  we'll  all  be  friends  too,  tell  her, 
And  such  a  joy — 

Cas.     That's  it  that  stirs  me  up,  Sir, 
I  would  not  for  the  World  attempt  her  Chastity,;  \j 
But  that  they  may  live  lovingly  hereafter. 

Fred.     For  that  I  urge  it  too.  (g°°d>  Sir, 

Cas.     A    little    evil    may    well   be  suffered   for  a  general 
I'll  take  my  leave  of  your  Majesty.  v  [Exit. 

Enter  Valeric. 

Fred.     Go  fortunately,  be  speedy  too :  here  comes  Valeria, 
If  his  affliction  have  allayed  his  spirit 
My  work  has  end.     Come  hither,  Lord  Valeria, 
How  do  you  now  ? 

VaL     Your  Majesty  may  guess, 
Not  so  well,  nor  so  fortunate  as  you  are, 
That  can  tye  up  mens  honest  wills,  and  actions. 

Fred.     You  clearly  see  now,  brave  Valeria, 
What  'tis  to  be  the  Rival  to  a  Prince, 

44 


Sc.  i      A  WIFE  FOR  A  MONETH 

To  interpose  against  a  raging  Lion  ; 
I  know  you  have  suffer'd,  infinitely  suffer'd, 
And  with  a  kind  of  pity  I  behold  it, 
And  if  you  dare  be  worthy  of  my  mercy, 
I  can  yet  heal  you ;    yield  up  your  Evanthe, 
Take  off  my  sentence  also. 

Val     I  fall  thus  low,  Sir, 
My  poor  sad  heart  under  your  feet  I  lay, 
And  all  the  service  of  my  life. 

Fred.     Do  this  then,  for  without  this  'twill  be  impossible, 
Part  with  her  for  a  while. 

Pal.     You  have  parted  us, 
What  should  I  do  with  that  I  cannot  use  Sir  ? 

Fred.     'Tis  well  considered,  let  me  have  the  Lady, 
And  thou  shalt  see  how  nobly  I'll  befriend  thee, 
How  all  this  difference — 

Val.     Will  she  come  do  you  think,  Sir  ? 

Fred.     She  must  be  wrought,  I  know  she  is  too  modest, 
And  gently  wrought,  and  cunningly. 

Val.     'Tis  fit,  Sir. 

Fred.     And  secretly  it  must  be  done. 

Val.     As  thought. 

Fred.     I'll  warrant  ye  her  honour  shall  be  fair  still, 
No  soil  nor  stain  shall  appear  on  that,  Valeria^ 
You  see  a  thousand  that  bear  sober  faces, 
And  shew  of  as  inimitable  modesties ; 
You  would  be  sworn  too  that  they  were  pure  Matrons, 
And  most  chaste  maids  :  and  yet  to  augment  their  fortunes, 
And  get  them  noble  friends — 

Val.     They  are  content,  Sir, 
In  private  to  bestow  their  Beauties  on  'em.  (f°r>t> 

Fred.     They  are  so,  and  they  are  wise,  they  know  no  want 
Nor  no  eye  sees  they  want  their  honesties.K 

Val.     If  it  might  be  carried  thus. 

Fred.     It  shall  be,  Sir. 

Val.     I'll  see  you  dead  first,  with  this  caution, 
Why,  sure  I  think  it  might  be  done. 

Fred.     Yes,  easily. 

Pal.     For  what  time  would  your  Grace  desire  her  Body? 

Fred.     A  month  or  two,  it  shall  be  carried  still 

45 


A  WIFE  FOR  A  MONETH    ACT  iv 

As  if  she  kept  with  you,  and  were  a  stranger, 

Rather  a  hater  of  the  grace  I  offer  ; 

And  then  I  will  return  her  with  such  honour — 

Pal.     'Tis  very  like  I  dote  much  on  your  Honour. 

Fred.     And  load  her  with  such  favour  too,   Valerio — 

Val.     She  never  shall  claw  off?    I  humbly  thank  ye. 

Fred.     I'll  make  ye  both  the  happiest,  and  the  richest, 
And  the  mightiest  too — 

VaL     But  who  shall  work  her,  Sir  ? 
For  on  my  Conscience  she  is  very  honest, 
And  will  be  hard  to  cut  as  a  rough  Diamond.  (tongue, 

Fred.     Why,  you  must  work   her,  any   thing   from   your 
Set  off  with  golden,  and  perswasive  Language, 
Urging  your  dangers  too. 

Val.     But  all  this  time 

Have  you  the  conscience,  Sir,  to  leave  me  nothing, 
Nothing  to  play  withal  ? 

Fred.     There  be  a  thousand,  take  where  thou  wilt. 

Val.     May  I  make  bold  with  your  Queen, 
She  is  useless  to  your  Grace,  as  it  appears,  Sir, 
And  but  a  loyal  Wife  that  may  be  lost  too  ; 
I  have  a  mind  to  her,  and  then  'tis  equal  ? 

Fred.     How,  Sir  ? 

1/aL     'Tis  so,  Sir,  thou  most  glorious  impudence, 
Have  I  not  wrongs  enow  to  suffer  under, 
But  thou  must  pick  me  out  to  make  a  Monster  ? 
A  hated  Wonder  to  the  World  ?     Do  you  start 
At  my  intrenching  on  your  private  liberty, 
And  would  you  force  a  high-way  through  mine  honour, 
And  make  me  pave  it  too  ?     But  that  thy  Queen 
Is  of  that  excellent  honesty, 
And  guarded  with  Divinity  about  her, 
No  loose  thought  can  come  near,  nor  flame  unhallowed, 
I  would  so  right  my  self. 

Fred.     Why,  take  her  to  ye, 
I  am  not  vex'd  at  this,  thou  shalt  enjoy  her, 
I'll  be  thy  friend  if  that  may  win  thy  courtesie. 

Pal.    I  will  not  be  your  Bawd,  though  for  your  Royalty. 
Was  I  brought  up,  and  nourish'd  in  the  Court, 
With  thy  most  Royal  Brother,  and  thy  self, 


Sc.  i      A  WIFE  FOR  A  MONETH 

Upon  thy  Fathers  charge,  thy  happy  Fathers, 

And  suckt  the  sweetness  of  all  humane  arts, 

Learn'd  Arms  and  Honour,  to  become  a  Rascal ; 

Was  this  the  expectation  of  my  Youth, 

My  growth  of  Honour  ?     Do  you  speak  this  truly, 

Or  do  you  try  me,  Sir  ?   for  I  believe  not, 

At  least  I  would  not,  and  methinks  'tis  impossible 

There  should  be  such  a  Devil  in  a  Kings  shape, 

Such  a  malignant  Fiend. 

Fred.     I  thank  ye,  Sir, 

To  morrow  is  your  last  day,  and  look  to  it, 
Get  from  my  sight,  away.  (upon  ye. 

Pal.     Ye  are —  Oh,  my  heart's  too  high  and  full  to  think 

[Exeunt. 

Enter  Evanthe,  and  Cassandra. 

Evan.     You  think  it  fit  then,  mortified  Cassandra, 
That  I  should  be  a  Whore  ? 

Cas.     Why  a  Whore,  Madam  ? 
If  every  Woman  that  upon  necessity 
Did  a  good  turn,  for  there's  the  main  point,  mark  it, 
Were  term'd  a  Whore,  who  would  be  honest,  Madam  ? 
Your  Lords  life,  and  your  own  are  now  in  hazard, 
Two  precious  lives  may  be  redeem'd  with  nothing, 
Little  or  nothing ;  say  an  hours  or  days  sport, 
Or  such  a  toy,  the  end  to  it  is  wantonness. 
(That  we  call  lust  that  maidens  lose  their  fame  for) 
But  a  compell'd  necessity  of  honour, 
Fair  as  the  day,  and  clear  as  innocence, 
Upon  my  life  and  conscience,  a  direct  way — 

Evan.     To  be  a  Rascal. 

Cas.     'Tis  a  kind  of  Rape  too, 

That  keeps  you  clear,  for  where  your  will's  compell'd 
Though  you  yield  up  your  Body  you  are  safe  still. 

Evan.     Thou  art  grown  a  learned  Bawd,  I  ever  look'd 
Thy  great  sufficiency  would  break  out. 

Cas.     You  may, 

You  that  are  young,  and  fair  scorn  us  old  Creatures, 
But  you  must  know  my  years,  ere  you  be  wise,  Lady, 
And  my  experience  too ;   say  the  King  loved  ye  ? 

47 


A  WIFE  FOR  A  MONETH   ACT  iv 

Say  it  were  nothing  else  ? 

Evan.     I,  marry  wench,  now  thou  comest  to  me. 

Cas.     Do  you  think  Princes  favours  are  such  sleight  things, 
To  fling  away  when  you  please  ?    there  be  young  Ladies 
Both  fair  and  honourable,  that  would  leap  to  reach  'em, 
And  leap  aloft  too. 

Evan.     Such  are  light  enough ; 

I  am  no  Vaulter,  Wench,  but  canst  thou  tell  me,      . 
Though  he  be  a  King,  whether  he  be  sound  or  no  ?  V 
I  would  not  give  my  Youth  up  to  infection. 

Cas.     As  sound  as  honour  ought  to  be,  I  think,  Lady  ; 
Go  to,  be  wise,  I  do  not  bid  you  try  him  ; 
But  if  he  love  you  well,  and  you  neglect  him," 
Your  Lords  life  hanging  on  the  hazard  of  it, 
If  you  be  so  wilful  proud. 

Evan.     Thou  speakest  to  the  point  still ;  (woman  ? 

But  when  I  have  lain  with   him,  what  am   I   then,  Gentle- 

Cas.     What  are  you  ?  why,  the  same  you  are  now,  a  wo- 
A  vertuous  Woman,  and  a  noble  Woman,  (man, 

Touching  at  what  is  noble,  you  become  so. 
Had  Lucrece  e'r  been  thought  of  but  for  Tarquin  ? 
She  was  before  a  simple  unknown  Woman, 
When  she  was  ravish'd,  she  was  a  reverend  Saint ; 
And  do  you  think  she  yielded  not  a  little  ? 
And  had  a  kind  of  will  to  have  been  re-ravish'd  ? 
Believe  it,  yes  :    there  are  a  thousand  stories 
Of  wondrous  loyal  Women,  that  have  slipt, 
But  it  has  been  on  the  ice  of  tender  honour, 
That  kept  'em  cool  still  to  the  World.    I  think  you  are  blest, 
That  have  such  an  occasion  in  your  hands  to  beget  a  Chro- 
A  faithful  one.  (nicle, 

Evan.     It  must  needs  be  much  honour. 

Cas.     As  you  may  make  it,  infinite,  and  safe  too, 
And  when  'tis  done,  your  Lord  and  you  may  live 
So  quietly,  and  peaceably  together, 
And  be  what  you  please. 

Evan.     But  suppose  this,  Wench, 
The  King  should  so  delight  me  with  his  Company, 
I  should  forget  my  Lord,  and  no  more  look  on  him. 

Cas.     That's  the  main  hazard,  for  I  tell  you  truly, 


Sc.  i      A  WIFE  FOR  A  MONETH 

I  have  heard  report  speak  he  is  an  infinite  pleasure, 
Almost  above  belief;    there  be  some  Ladies, 
And  modest  to  the  world  too,  wondrous  modest, 
That  have  had  the  blessedness  to  try  his  body, 
That  I  have  heard  proclaim  him  a  new  Hercules. 

Evan.     So  strongly  able  ? 

Gas.     There  will  be  the  danger, 
You  being  but  a  young  and  tender  Lady, 
Although  your  mind  be  good,  yet  your  weak  Body, 
At  first  encounter  too,  to  meet  with  one 
Of  his  unconquer'd  strength. 

Evan.     Peace,  thou  rude  Bawd, 
Thou  studied  old  corruptness,  tye  thy  tongue  up, 
Your  hired  base  tongue ;    is  this  your  timely  counsel  ? 
Dost  thou  seek  to  make  me  dote  on  wickedness  ? 
Because  'tis  ten  times  worse  than  thou  deliver'st  it  ? 
To  be  a  Whore,  because  he  has  sufficiency 
To  make  a  hundred  ?     O  thou  impudence  ! 
Have  I  reliev'd  thy  Age  to  mine  own  ruine  ? 
And  worn  thee  in  my  Bosome,  to  betray  me  ? 
Can  years  and  impotence  win  nothing  on  thee 
That's  good  and  honest,  but  thou  must  go  on  still  ? 
And  where  thy  bloud  wants  heat  to  sin  thy  self, 
Force  thy  decrepit  will  to  make  me  wicked  ? 

Cas.     I  did  but  tell  ye. 

Evan.     What  the  damnedst  Woman, 
The  cunning'st  and  the  skilfull'st  Bawd  comes  short  of; 
If  thou  hadst  liv'd  ten  Ages  to  be  damn'd  in, 
And  exercis'd  this  Art  the  Devil  taught  thee, 
Thou  could'st  not  have  express'd  it  more  exactly. 

Cas.     I  did  not  bid  you  sin. 

Evan.     Thou  woo'd'st  me  to  it, 
Thou  that  art  fit  for  Prayer  and  the  Grave, 
Thy  Body  Earth  already,  and  Corruption, 
Thou  taught'st  the  way  ;    go  follow  your  fine  function, 
There  are  houses  of  delight,  that  want  good  Matrons, 
Such  grave  Instructors,  get  thee  thither,  Monster, 
And  read  variety  of  sins  to  wantons, 
And  when  they  roar  with  pains,  learn  to  make  plaisters. 

Cas.     This  we  have  for  our  good  wills. 

B.-F.  v.  D  49 


A  WIFE  FOR  A  MONETH    ACT  iv 

Evan.     If  e'r  I  see  thee  more, 
Or  any  thing  that's  like  thee,  to  affright  me, 
By  this  fair  light  I'll  spoil  thy  Bawdery, 
I'll  leave  thee  neither  Eyes  nor  Nose  to  grace  thee. 
When  thou  wantest  Bread,  and  common  pity  towards  thee, 

Enter  Frederick. 

And  art  a  starving  in  a  Ditch,  think  of  me, 

Then  dye,  and  let  the  wandring  Bawds  lament  thee  ; 

Be  gone,  I  charge  thee  leave  me. 

Cas.     You'll  repent  this.  [Exit. 

Fred.     She's  angry,  and  t'other  crying  too,  my  suit's  cold. 
I'll  make  your  heart  ake,  stubborn  Wench,  for  this  ; 
Turn  not  so  angry  from  me,  I  will  speak  to  you, 
Are  you  grown  proud  with  your  delight,  good  Lady, 
So  pamper'd  with  your  sport  you  scorn  to  know  me  ? 

Evan.    I  scorn  ye  not,  I  would  you  scorn'd  not  me,  Sir, 
And  forc't  me  to  be  weary  of  my  duty, 
I  know  your  Grace,  would  I  had  never  seen  ye. 

Fred.     Because  I  love  you,  because  I  dote  upon  ye, 
Because  I  am  a  man  that  seek  to  please  ye. 

Evan.     I  have  man  enough  already  to  content  me, 
As  much,  as  noble,  and  as  worthy  of  me, 
As  all  the  World  can  yield. 

Fred.     That's  but  your  modesty, 
You  have  no  man,  nay  never  look  upon  me, 
I  know  it,  Lady,  no  man  to  content  ye, 
No  man  that  can,  or  at  the  least,  that  dares, 
Which  is  a  poorer  man,  and  nearer  nothing. 

Evan.     Be  nobler,  Sir,  inform'd. 

Fred.     I'll  tell  thee,  Wench, 
The  poor  condition  of  this  poorer  fellow, 
And  make  thee  blush  for  shame  at  thine  own  errour, 
He  never  tendred  yet  a  husbands  duty, 
To  thy  warm  longing  bed. 

Evan.     How  should  he  know  that? 

Fred.     I  am  sure  he  did  not,  for  I  charg'd  him  no, 
Upon  his  life  I  charg'd  him,  but  to  try  him; 
Could  any  brave  or  noble  spirit  stop  here? 
Was  life  to  be  preferr'd  before  affection? 

50 


Sc.  i       A  WIFE  FOR  A  MONETH 

Lawful  and  long'd  for  too? 

Evan.     Did  you  command  him? 

Fred.     I  did  in  policy  to  try  his  spirit. 

Evan.     And  could  he  be  so  dead  cold  to  observe  it? 
Brought  I  no  beauty,  nor  no  love  along  with  me? 

Fred.     Why,  that  is  it  that  makes  me  scorn  to  name  him. 
I  should  have  lov'd  him  if  he  had  ventur'd  for't, 
Nay,  doted  on  his  bravery. 

Evan.     Only  charg'd  r 

And  with  that  spell  sit  down  ?  dare  men  fight  bravely 
For  poor  slight  things,  for  drink,  or  ostentation  ? 
And  there  indanger  both  their  lives  and  fortunes, 
And  for  their  lawful  loves  fly  off  with  fear  ?  (thee  ? 

Fred.     'Tis  true,  and  with  a  cunning  base  fear  too  to  abuse 
Made  thee  believe,  poor  innocent  Evanthe, 
Wretched  young  Girl,  it  was  his  impotency; 
Was  it  not  so  ?  deny  it.  (young  man  • 

Evan.     O  my  anger !  at  my  years  to  be  cozen'd  with  a 

Fred.     A  strong  man  too,  certain  he  lov'd  ye  dearly. 

Evan.     To  have  my  shame  and  love  mingled  together, 
And  both  flung  on  me  like  a  weight  to  sink  me, 
I  would  have  dyed  a  thousand  times. 

Fred.     So  would  any, 
Any  that  had  the  spirit  of  a  man; 
I  would  have  been  kilPd  in  your  arms. 

Evan.     I  would  he  had  been, 
And  buried  in  mine  arms,  that  had  been  noble, 
And  what  a  monument  would  I  have  made  him  ? 
Upon  this  breast  he  should  have  slept  in  peace, 
(Honour,  and  everlasting  love  his  mourners ; 
(And  I  still  weeping  till  old  time  had  turn'd  me, 
'And  pitying  powers  above  into  pure  crystal. 

Fred.     Hadst  thou  lov'd  me,  and  had  my  way  been  stuck 
With  deaths,  as  thick  as  frosty  nights  with  stars, 
I  would  have  ventur'd.  (Coward. 

Evan.     Sure  there  is  some  trick    in't:    Valeria   ne'r   was 

Fred.     Worse  than  this  too, 
Tamer,  and  seasoning  of  a  baser  nature, 
He  set  your  woman  on  ye  to  betray  ye, 
Your  bawdy  woman,  or  your  sin  solicitor; 

D2  51 


am  at  heart.    (§he  staggers  in  her  faith 
And  will  fall  off  I  hope,  I'll  ply  her  still> 


A  WIFE  FOR  A  MONETH   ACT  iv 

I  pray  but  think  what  this  man  may  deserve  now, 
I  know  he  did,  and  did  it  to  please  me  too. 

Evan.     Good  Sir  afHift  me  not  too  fast,  I  feel 
I  am  a  woman,  and  a  wrong'd  one  too, 
And  sensible  I  am  of  my  abuses, 
Sir,  you  have  loved  me.  (upon  thy  person. 

Fred.     And  I  love  thee  still,  pity   thy  wrongs,  and   dote 

Evan.     To  set  my  woman  on  me  'twas  too  base,  Sir. 

Fred.     Abominable  vile. 

Evan.     But  I  shall  fit  him. 

Fred.     All  reason  and  all  Law  allows  it  to  ye, 
And  ye  are  a  fool,  a  tame  fool,  if  you  spare  him. 

Evan.     You  may  speak  now,  and  happily  prevail  too, 
And  I  beseech  your  Gracejbe  angry  with  me. 

Fred.     I 

1 i  rv*    T      t  T *ii 

Thou  abused  innocence,  I  suffer  with  thee, 

If  I  should  give  him  life,  he  would  still  betray  thee  ; 

That  fool  that  fears  to  dye  for  such  a  Beauty, 

Would  for  the  same  fear  sell  thee  unto  misery. 

I  do  not  say  he  would  have  been  Bawd  himself  too. 

Evan.     Follow'd  thus  far  ?  nay  then  I  smell  the  malice, 
It  tastes  too  hot  of  praftis'd  wickedness, 
There  can  be  no  such  man,  I  am  sure  no  Gentleman ; 
Shall  my  anger  make  me  whore,  and  not  my  pleasure  ? 
My  sudden  inconsiderate  rage  abuse  me  ? 
Come  home  again,  my  frighted  faith,  my  vertue, 
Home  to  my  heart  again ;  he  be  a  Bawd  too  ? 

Fred.     I  will  not  say  he  offered  fair  Evanthe. 

Evan.     Nor  do  not  dare,  'twill  be  an  impudence, 
And  not  an  honour  for  a  Prince  to  lye; 
Fye,  Sir,  a  person  of  your  rank  to  trifle, 
I  know  you  do  lye. 

Fred.     How  ?  (but  one  day, 

Evan.     Lye  shamefully,  and  I  could  wish  myself  a  man 
To  tell  you  openly  you  lye  too  basely. 

Fred.     Take  heed,  wild  fool. 

Evan      Take  thou  heed,  thou  tame  Devil, 
Thou  all  Pandora's  Box  in  a  Kings  figure, 
Thou  hast  almost  whor'd  my  weak  belief  already, 

52 


Sc.  i       A  WIFE  FOR  A  MONETH 

And  like  an  Engineer  blown  up  mine  honour; 

But  I  shall  countermine,  and  catch  your  mischief, 

This  little  Fort  you  seek,  I  shall  man  nobly, 

And  strongly  too,  with  chaste  obedience 

To  my  dear  Lord,  with  vertuous  thoughts  that  scorn  ye. 

Victorious  Thomyris  ne'r  won  more  honour 

In  cutting  off  the  Royal  head  of  Cyrus, 

Than  I  shall  do  in  conquering  thee;  farewel, 

And  if  thou  canst  be  wise,  learn  to  be  good  too. 

'Twill  give  thee  nobler  lights  than  both  thine  eyes  do ; 

My  poor  Lord  and  my  self  are  bound  to  suffer, 

And  when  I  see  him  faint  under  your  sentence, 

I'll  tell   ye  more,  it  may  be  then  I'll  yield  too. 

Fred.     Fool  unexampled,  shall  my  anger  follow  thee  ? 

[Exeunt. 

Enter  Rugio,  and  Fryar  Marco,  amazed. 

Rugio.     Curst  on  our  sights,  our  fond  credulities, 
A  thousand  curses  on  the  Slave  that  cheated  us, 
The  damn'd  Slave. 

Mar.     We  have  e'n  sham'd  our  service, 
Brought  our  best  care  and  loyalties  to  nothing, 
'Tis  the  most  fearful  poyson,  the  most  potent, 
Heaven  give  him  patience;  Oh  it  works  most  strongly, 
And  tears  him,  Lord. 

Rug.     That  we  should  be  so  stupid 
To  trust  the  arrant'st  Villain  that  e'r  flatter'd, 
The  bloodiest  too,  to  believe  a  few  soft  words  from  him, 
And  give  way  to  his  prepared  tears. 

Within,  Alpbomo.     Oh,  Oh,   Oh. 

Rug.     Hark,    Fryar   Marco,   hark,   the   poor   Prince,   that 
we  should  be  such  Block-heads, 
As  to  be  taken  with  his  drinking  first ! 

And  never  think  what  Antidotes  are  made  for!  (for't; 

Two  wooden  sculls  we  have,  and  we  deserve   to  be   hang'd 
For  certainly  it  will  be  laid  to  our  charge; 
As  certain  too,  it  will  dispatch  him  speedily, 
Which  way  to  turn,  or  what  to — 

Mar.     Let's  pray,  Heavens  hand  is  strong. 

Rug.     The  poyson's  strong,  you  would  say. 

53 


A  WIFE  FOR  A  MONETH   ACT  iv 

Enter  Alphonso,  carried  on  a  Couch  by  two  Fryars. 

Would  any  thing — He  comes,  let's  give  him  comfort. 

Alph.     Give  me  more  air,  air,  more  air,  blow,  blow, 
Open  thou  Eastern  Gate,  and  blow  upon  me, 
Distill  thy  cold  dews,  O  thou  icy  Moon, 
And  Rivers  run  through  my  afflicted  spirit. 
I  am  all  fire,  fire,  fire,  the  raging  dog  star 
Reigns  in  my  bloud,  Oh  which  way  shall  I  turn  me? 
JEtna,  and  all  his  flames  burn  in  my  head, 
Fling  me  into  the  Ocean  or  I  perish ; 
Dig,  dig,  dig,  till  the  Springs  fly  up, 
The  cold,  cold  Springs,  that  I  may  leap  into  'em, 
And  bathe  my  scorcht  Limbs  in  their  purling  Pleasures. 
Or  shoot  me  up  into  the  higher  Region, 
Where  treasures  of  delicious  Snow  are  nourisht, 
And  Banquets  of  sweet  Hail. 

Rug.     Hold  him  fast  Fryer,  O  how  he  burns! 

Alpb.     What  will  ye  sacrifice  me? 
Upon  the  Altar  lay  my  willing  body, 
And  pile  your  Wood  up,  fling  your  holy  incense; 
And  as  I  turn  me  you  shall  see  all  flame, 
Consuming  flame,  stand  off  me,  or  you  are  ashes. 

Both.     Most  miserable  wretches. 

Alph.     Bring  hither  Charity 

And  let  me  hug  her,  Fryer,  they  say  she's  cold, 
Infinite  cold  Devotion  cannot  warm  her; 
Draw  me  a  river  of  false  lovers  tears 

Clean   through  my  breast,  they  are  dull,  cold,  and  forgetful, 
And  will  give  ease,  let  Virgins  sigh    upon  me, 
Forsaken  souls,  the  sighs  are  precious, 
Let  them  all  sigh:  Oh  hell,  hell,  hell,  Oh  horror. 

Mar.     To  bed,  good  Sir. 

Alph.     My  bed  will  burn  about  me, 
Like  Phaeton,  in  all  consuming  flashes 
I  am  inclosed,  let  me  fly,  let  me  fly,  give  room; 
Betwixt  the  cold  Bear,  and  the  raging  Lyon 
Lyes  my  safe  way;  O  for  a  cake  of  Ice  now, 
To  clap  unto  my  heart  to  comfort  me; 
Decrepit  Winter  hang  upon  my  shoulders, 

54 


Sc.  i      A  WIFE  FOR  A  MONETH 

And  let  me  wear  thy  frozen  Isicles 

Like  Jewels  round  about  my  head,  to  cool  me; 

My  eyes  burn  out,  and  sink  into  their  sockets, 

And  my  infected  brain  like  brimstone  boils, 

I  live  in  Hell,  and  several  furies  vex  me; 

O  carry  me  where  no  Sun  ever  shew'd  yet 

A  face  of  comfort,  where  the  earth  is  Crystal, 

Never  to  be  dissolved,  where  naught  inhabits 

But  night  and  cold,  and  nipping  frosts,  and  winds 

That  cut  the  stubborn  rocks  and  make  them  shiver; 

Set  me  there  friends.  (he  has ! 

Rug.    Hold  fast,  he  must  to  bed,  Fryer,  what  scalding  sweats 

Mar.     He'll  scald  in  Hell  for't,  that  was  the  cause. 

Alph.     Drink,  drink,  a  world  of  drink, 
Fill  all  the  cups  and  all  the  antick  vessels, 
And  borrow  pots,  let  me  have  drink  enough, 
Bring  all  the  worthy  drunkards  of  the  time, 
The  experienc'd  drunkards,  let  me  have  them  all, 
And  let  them  drink  their  worst,  Tie  make  them  Ideots, 
Fie  lye  upon  my  Back  and  swallow  Vessels; 
Have  Rivers  made  of  cooling  Wine  run  through  me, 
Not  stay  for  this  mans  health,  or  this  great  Princes, 
But  take  an  Ocean,  and  begin  to  all;  Oh,  oh. 

Mar.     He  cools  a  little,  now  away  with  him, 
And  to  his  warm  bed  presently. 

Alpb.     No  drink?  no  wind?  no  cooling  air? 

Rug.     You  shall  have  any  thing. 
His  hot  fit  lessens,  Heaven  put  in  a  hand  now, 
And  save  his  life ;  there's  drink  Sir  in  your  chamber, 
And  all  cool  things. 

Alph.     Away,  away,  let's  fly  to  'em.  [Exeunt. 

Enter  Valeric  and  Evanthe. 

Evan.     To  say  you  were  impotent,  I  am  asham'd  on't, 
To  make  your  self  no  man,  to  a  fresh  Maid  too, 
A  longing  Maid,  upon  her  wedding  night  also, 
To  give  her  such  a  dor. 

Val.     I  prethee  pardon  me. 

Evan.     Had  you  been  drunk,  't  had  been  excusable, 
Or  like  a  Gentleman  under  the  Surgions  hands, 

55 


A  WIFE  FOR  A  MONETH    ACT  iv 

And  so  not  able,  there  had  been  some  colour, 
But  wretchedly  to  take  a  weakness  to  ye, 
A  fearful  weakness,  to  abuse  your  body, 
And  let  a  lye  work  like  a  spell  upon  ye, 
A  lye,  to  save  your  life. 

f^al.     Will  you  give  me  leave,  sweet? 

Ev.  You  have  taken  too  much  leave,  and  too  base  leave  too, 
To  wrong  your  love;  hast  thou  a  noble  spirit? 
And  canst  thou  look  up  to  the  peoples  loves, 
That  call  thee  worthy,  and  not  blush,  Pakrioi 
Canst  thou  behold  me  that  thou  hast  betray'd  thus, 
And  no  shame  touch  thee? 

Val.     Shame  attend  the  sinful,  I  know  my  innocence. 

Evan.  Ne'r  think  to  face  it,  that's  a  double  weakness, 
And  shews  thee  falser  still;  the  King  himself, 
Though  he  be  wicked,  and  our  Enemy, 
But  juster  than  thou  art,  in  pity  of  my  injuries, 
Told  me  the  truth. 

Val.     What  did  he  tell  thee,  Evanthel 

Evan.     That  but  to  gain  thy  life  a  fortnight  longer, 
Thy  lov'd  poor  life,  thou  gav'st  up  all  my  duties. 

VaL     I  swear  'tis  false ;  my  life  and  death  are  equal, 
I  have  weigh'd  'em  both,  and  find  'em  but  one  fortune, 
But  Kings  are  men,  and  live  as  men,  and  dye  too, 
Have  the  affections  men  have,  and  their  falsehoods; 
Indeed  they  have  more  power  to  make  'em  good ; 
The  King's  to  blame,  it  was  to  save  thy  life  Wench, 
Thy  innocent  life,  that  I  forbore  thy  bed, 
For  if  I  had  toucht  thee  thou  hadst  dyed,  he  swore  it. 

Evan.     And  was  not  I.  as  worthy  to  dye  nobly  ? 
To  make  a  story  for  the  time  that  follows, 
As  he  that  married  me?  what  weakness,  Sir, 
Or  disability  do  you  see  in  me, 
Either  in  mind  or  body?  to  defraud  me 
Of  such  an  opportunity?     Do  you  think  I  married  you 
Only  for  pleasure,  or  content  in  lust? 
To  lull  you  in  my  arms,  and  kiss  you  hourly? 
Was  this  my  end  ?    I  might  have  been  a  Queen,  Sir, 
If  that  had  caught  me,  and  have  known  all  delicates ; 
There's  few  that  would  have  shun'd  so  fair  an  offer. 

56 


Sc.  i      A  WIFE  FOR  A  MONETH 

0  thou  unfaithful  fearful  man,  thou  hast  kill'd  me, 
In  saving  me  this^way,  thou  hast  destroyed  me, 
Rob'd  me  of  that  thy  love  can  never  give  more; 
To  be  unable  to  save  me  ?    O  misery  ! 

Had  I  been  my  Valeria,  thou  Evanthe, 

1  would  have  lyen  with  thee  under  a  Gallows, 

Though  the  Hangman  had  been  my  Hymen,  and  the  furies 

With  iron  whips  and  forks,  ready  to  torture  me. 

I  would  have  hug'd  thee  too,  though  Hell  had  gap'd  at  me  ; 

Save  my  life!  that  expected  to  dye  bravely, 

That  would  have  woo'd  it  too:  Would  I  had  married 

An  Eunuch,  that  had  truly  no  ability, 

Then  such  a  fearful  lyar,  thou  hast  done  me 

A  scurvy  courtesie,  that  has  undone  me. 

Val.     Tie  do  no  more,  since  you  are  so  nobly  fashion'd, 
Made  up  so  strongly,  Fie  take  my  share  with  ye, 
Nay,  dear,  I'le  learn  of  you. 

Evan.     He  weeps  too  tenderly; 
My  anger's  gone,  good  my  Lord  pardon  me,  | 
And  if  I  have  offended,  be  more  angry, 
It  was  a  Womans  flash,  a  sudden  valour, 
That  could  not  lye  concealed. 

Val.     I  honour  ye,  by  all  the  rites  of  holy  marriage, 
And  pleasures  of  chaste  love,  I  wonder  at  ye, 
You  appear  the  vision  of  a  Heaven  unto  me, 
stars  of  honourshining  clearly, 


all  the  motions  of  your  minH  <Jf  l^trel  ^ 

Man  is  a  lump  of  Earth,  the  best  man  spiritless, 

To  such  a  woman  ;  all  our  lives  and  actions 

But  counterfeits  in  Arras  to  this  vertue; 

Chide  me  again,  you  have  so  brave  an  anger, 

And  flows  so  nobly  from  you,  thus  deliver'd, 

That  I  could  suffer  like  a  Child  to  hear  ye, 

Nay  make  my  self  guilty  of  some  faults  to  honour  ye. 

Eva.    Fie  chide  no  more,  you  have  rob'd  me  of  my  courage, 
And  with  a  cunning  patience  checkt  my  impudence; 
Once  more  forgiveness?  [She  kneels. 

Val.     Will  this  serve,  Evanthel  [Kisses  her. 

And  this  my  love?     Heavens  mercy  be  upon  us; 
But  did  he  tell  no  more? 

57 


A  WIFE  FOR  A  MONETH   ACT  iv 

Evan.    Only  this  trifle :  you  set  my  woman  on  me,  to  betray 
'Tis  true,  she  did  her  best,  a  bad  old  woman,  (me; 

It  stir'd  me,  Sir. 

Pal.     I  cannot  blame  thee,  Jewel.  (way — 

Evan.    And  me  thought  when  your  name  was  sounded  that 
Pal.    He  that  will  spare  no  fame,  will  spare  no  name,  sweet ; 
Though  as  I  am  a  man,  I  am  full  of  weakness, 
And  may  slip  happily  into  some  ignorance, 
Yet  at  my  years  to  be  a  bawd,  and  cozen 
Mine  own  hopes  with  my  Doclrine —  (row. 

Eva.    I  believe  not,  nor  never  shall ;  our  time  is  out  to  mor- 
fal.     Let's  be  to  night  then  full  of  fruitfulness, 
Now  we  are  both  of  one  mind,  let's  be  happy, 
I  am  no  more  a  wanting  man,  Evanthe, 
Thy  warm  embraces  shall  dissolve  that  impotence, 
And  my  cold  lye  shall  vanish  with  thy  kisses ; 
You  hours  of  night  be  long,  as  when  Alcmena 
Lay  by  the  lusty  side  of  "Jupiter^ 
Keep  back  the  day,  and  hide  his  golden  beams, 
Where  the  chaste  watchful  morning  may  not  find  'em; 
Old  doting  Tytbon  hold  Aurora  fast, 
And  though  she  blush  the  day-break  from  her  cheeks, 
Conceal  her  still;  thou  heavy  Wain  stand  firm, 
And  stop  the  quicker  revolutions; 
Or  if  the  day  must  come,  to  spoil  our  happiness, 
Thou  envious  Sun  peep  not  upon  our  pleasure, 
Thou  that  all  Lovers  curse,  be  far  off  from  us. 

Enter  Castruchio  with  Guard. 

Evan.     Then  let's  to  bed,  and  this  night  in  all  joyes 
And  chaste  delights — 

Cast.     Stay,  I  must  part  ye  both; 
It  is  the  Kings  command,  who  bids  me  tell  ye, 
To  morrow  is  your  last  hour. 

Val.     I  obey,  Sir, 

In  Heaven  we  shall  meet,  Captain,  where  King  Frederick 
Dare  not  appear  to  part  us.  (Office, 

Cast.     Mistake  me  not,  though  I  am  rough  in  doing  of  my 
You  shall  find,  Sir,  you  have  a  friend  to  honour  ye. 

Pal.     I  thank  ye,  Sir. 

58 


ACTV    A  WIFE  FOR  A  MONETH 

Evan.     Pray  captain  tell  the  King, 
They  that  are  sad  on  Earth,  in  Heaven  shall  sing.     [Exeunt. 

I 

Attus  Quintus.     Scena  Prima. 

Enter  Fryer  Marco,  and  Rugio. 

Rug.    T  T  Ave  you  writ  to  the  Captain  of  the  Castle  ? 

X  J.      Mar.     Yes,  and  charged  him 
Upon  his  souls  health,  that  he  be  not  cruel, 
Told  him  Palerio9s  worth  among  the  people, 
And  how  it  must  be  punisht  in  posterity, 
Though  he  scape  now. 

Rug.    But  will  not  he,  Fryer  Marco,  betray  this  to  the  King? 

Mar.     Though  he  be  stubborn,  and  of  a  rugged  nature, 
And  honours  much  Valeria,  (yet  he  is  honest, 

Rug.     How  does  Alphonso? 
For  now  me  thinks  my  heart  is  light  again, 
And  pale  fear  fled. 

Mar.     He  is  as  well  as  I  am ; 
The  Rogue  against  his  will  has  sav'd  his  life, 
A  desperate  poison  has  re-cur*  d  the  Prince. 

Rug.     To  me  'tis  most  miraculous. 

Mar.     To  me  too,  till  I  consider  why  it  should  do  so, 
And  now  I  have  found  it  a  most  excellent  Physick, 
It  wrought  upon  the  dull  cold  misty  parts, 
That  clog'd  his  soul,  which  was  another  poison, 
A  desperate  too,  and  found  such  matter  there, 
And  such  abundance  also  to  resist  it, 
And  wear  away  the  dangerous  heat  it  brought  with  it, 
The  pure  blood  and  the  spirits  scap'd  untainted. 

Rug.     'T was  Heavens  high  hand,  none  of  Sorano's  pity. 

Mar.     Most  certain  'twas,  had  the  malitious  villain 

Enter  Castruchio. 

Given  him  a  cooling  poison,  he  had  paid  him. 
Rug.     The  Captain  of  the  Castle. 
Mar.     O  ye  are  welcome,  how  does  your  Prisoner? 
Cast.     He  must  go  for  dead; 

59 


A  WIFE  FOR  A  MONETH    ACT  v 

But  when  I  do  a  deed  of  so  much  villany, 

Fie  have  my  skin  pull'd  o're  mine  ears,  my  Lord, 

Enter  Alphonso  and  Fryers. 

Though  I  am  the  Kings,  I  am  none  of  his  abuses; 
How  does  your  Royal  charge?  that  I  might  see  once. 

Mar.     I  pray  see  now,  you  are  a  trusty  Gentleman. 

Alph.    Good  Fathers,  I  thank  Heaven,  I  feel  no  sickness. 

Cast.     He  speaks  again. 

Alph.     Nothing  that  bars  the  free  use  of  my  spirit, 
Me  thinks  the  air's  sweet  to  me,  and  company 
A  thing  I  covet  now,  Castruchio.  (pate  Lord, 

Cast.    Sir,  he  speaks,  and  knows,  for  Heaven  sake  break  my 
That  I  may  be  sure  I  sleep  not. 

Alph.     Thou  wert  honest, 
Ever  among  the  rank  of  good  men  counted, 
I  have  been  absent  long  out  of  the  world, 
A  dream  I  have  lived,  how  does  it  look  Castruchio^. 
What  wonders  are  abroad?  (goodness, 

Cast.    I  fling  off  duty  to  your  dead  Brother,  for  he  is  dead  in 
And  to  the  living  hope  of  brave  Alphonso^ 
The  noble  heir  of  nature,  and  of  honour, 
I  fasten  my  Allegeance.  (blest  secret, 

Mar.     Softly  Captain,  we  dare  not  trust  the  Air  with  this 
Good  Sir,  be  close  again,  Heaven  has  restored  ye, 
And  by  miraculous  means,  to  your  fair  health, 
And  made  the  instrument  your  enemies  malice, 
Which  does  prognosticate  your  noble  fortune; 
Let  not  our  careless  joy  lose  you  again,  Sir, 
Help  to  deliver  ye  to  a  further  danger,  \ 
I  pray  you  pass  in,  and  rest  a  while  forgotten, 
For  if  your  Brother  come  to  know  you  are  well  again, 
And  ready  to  inherit  as  your  right, 
Before  we  have  strength  enough  to  assure  your  life, 
What  will  become  of  you  ?  and  what  shall  we 
Deserve  in  all  opinions  that  are  honest, 
For  our  loss  of  judgment,  care,  and  loyalty  ? 

Rug.     Dear  Sir,  pass  in,  Heaven  has  begun  the  work, 
And  blest  us  all,  let  our  indeavours  follow,  i  j 
To  preserve  this  blessing  to  our  timely  uses,! 

60 


Sc.  i      A  WIFE  FOR  A  MONETH 

And  bring  it  to  the  noble  end  we  aim  at; 
Let  our  cares  work  now,  and  our  eyes  pick  out 
fAn  hour  to  shew  ye  safely  to  your  Subjects, 
A  secure  hour. 

Alph.     I  am  counseled ;  ye  are  faithful. 

Cast.     Which  hour  shall  not  be  long,  as  we  shall  handle  it. 
Once  more  the  tender  of  my  duty. 

Alph.     Thank  ye. 

Cast.     Keep  you  the  Monastery. 

Rug.     Strong  enough  Pie  warrant  ye.  [Exeunt. 

Enter  the  Fool,  and  Podrano. 

Pod.    Who  are  all  these  that  crowd  about  the  Court,  Fool  ? 
Those  strange  new  faces? 

Fool.     They  are  Suitors,  Coxcomb, 

Dainty  fine  Suitors  to  the  Widow  Lady,  (handsomly 

Thou  hadst  best  make  one  of  'em,  thou  wilt   be   hang'd  as 
At  the  Months  end,  and  as  much  joy  follow'd, 
And  'twere  to  morrow;  as  many  mourning  Bawds  for  thee, 
And  holy  Nuns,  whose  vestal  fire  ne'r  vanishes, 
In  sackcloth  Smocks,  as  if  thou  wert  Heir  apparent 
To  all  the  impious  Suburbs,  and  the  sink-holes. 

Pod.     Out  you  base  Rogue. 

Fool.     Why  dost  abuse  thy  self? 
Thou  art  to  blame,  I  take  thee  for  a  Gentleman, 
But  why  does  not  thy  Lord  and  Master  marry  her? 

Pod.     Why,  she  is  his  Sister. 

Fool.     'Tis  the  better,  Fool, 

He  may  make  bold  with  his  own  flesh  and  blood, 
For  o'  my  conscience  there's  none  else  will  trust  him; 
Then  he  may  pleasure  the  King  at  a  dead  pinch  too, 
Without  a  MephestophiluS)  such  as  thou  art, 
And  ingross  the  Royal  disease  like  a  true  Subject. 

Pod.     Thou  wilt  be  whipt. 

Fool.     I  am  sure  thou  wilt  be  hang'd, 

I  have  lost  a  Ducket  else,  which  I  would  be  loth  to  venture 
Without  certainty.     They  appear.  [Suitors  pass  by. 

Pod.     Why  these  are  Rascals.  (better  kindred  ? 

Fool.    They  were  meant  to  be  so,  does  thy  Master  deserve 

Pod.     There's  an  old  Lawyer, 

61 


A  WIFE  FOR  A  MONETH    ACT  v 

Trim'd  up  like  a  Gaily  Foist,  what  would  he  do  with  her? 

Fool.    As  Usurers  do  with  their  Gold,  he  would  look  on  her, 
And  read  her  over  once  a  day,  like  a  hard  report, 
Feed  his  dull  eye,  and  keep  his  fingers  itching; 
For  any  thing  else,  she  may  appeal  to  a  Parliament, 
\  Sub  Pcena's  and  PojJ^Kaes  have  spoil'd  his  Codpiece; 
'  There's  a  Physician  too,  older  than  he, 
And  Gallen  Gallinacius^  but  he  has  lost  his  spurs, 
He  would  be  nibling  too. 

Pod.     I  marked  the  man,  if  he  be  a  man. 

Fool.     H'as  much  ado  to  be  so, 
Searcloths  and  Sirrups  glew  him  close  together, 
He  would  fall  a  pieces  else;  mending  of  she  Patients, 
And  then  trying  whether  they  be  right  or  no 
In  his  own  person,  there's  the  honest  care  on't, 
Has  mollifi'd  the  man;  if  he  do  marry  her, 
And  come  but  to  warm  him  well  at  Cupids  Bonfire, 
He  will  bulge  so  subtilly  and  suddenly, 
You  may  snatch  him  up  by  parcels,  like  a  Sea  Rack :/  ^/ 
Will  your  Worship  go,  and  look  upon  the  rest,  Sir? 
And  hear  what  they  can  say  for  themselves. 

Pod.     Fie  follow  thee.  [Exeunt. 

Enter  Camillo,  Menallo,  Cleanthes,  and  Castruchio. 

Cam.     You  tell  us  wonders. 

Cast.     But  I  tell  you  truths,  they  are  both  well. 

Men.     Why  are  not  we  in  Arms  then? 
And  all  the  Island  given  to  know —  (else, 

Cast.     Discreetly  and  privately  it  must  be  done,  'twill  miss 
And  prove  our  mines ;  most  of  the  noble  Citizens 
Know  it  by  me,  and  stay  the  hour  to  attend  it, 
Prepare  your  hearts  and  friends,  let  their's  be  right  too, 
And  keep  about  the  King  to  avoid  suspicion; 

Enter  Frederick  and  Sorano. 

When  you  shall  hear  the  Castle  Bell,  take  courage, 
And  stand  like  men,  away,  the  King  is  coming. 

[Exeunt  Lords. 

Fre.  Now  Captain,  what  have  you  done  with  your  prisoner  ? 

Cast.     He  is  dead,  Sir,  and  his  body  flung  into  the  Sea, 
62 


Sc.  i       A  WIFE  FOR  A  MONETH 

To  feed  the  fishes,  'twas  your  will,  I  take  it, 
I  did  it  from  a  strong  Commission, 
And  stood  not  to  capitulate. 

Fred.     'Tis  well  done, 

And  I  shall  love  you  for  your  faith.     What  anger 
Or  sorrow  did  he  utter  at  his  end? 

Cast.     Faith  little,  Sir,  that  I  gave  any  ear  to, 
He  would  have  spoke,  but  I  had  no  Commission 
To  argue  with  him,  so  I  flung  him  off; 
His  Lady  would  have  seen,  but  I  lockt  her  up, 
For  fear  her  womans  tears  should  hinder  us. 

Fred.     'Twas  trusty  still.     I  wonder,  my  Sorano, 
We  hear  not  from  the  Monastery;  I  believe 
They  gave  it  not,  or  else  it  wrought  not  fully. 

Cast.     Did  you  name  the  Monastery? 

Fred.     Yes,  I  did  Captain. 

Cast.     I  saw  the  Fryer  this  morning,  and  Lord  Rugioy 
Bitterly  weeping,  and  wringing  of  their  hands, 
And  all  the  holy  men  hung  down  their  heads. 

Sora.     'Tis  done  I'le  warrant  ye. 

Cast.     I  ask'd  the  reason. 

Fred.     What  answer  hadst  thou? 

Cast.     This  in  few  words,  Sir, 
Your  Brother's  dead,  this  morning  he  deceased, 
I  was  your  servant,  and  I  wept  not,  Sir, 
I  knew  'twas  for  your  good. 

Fred.     It  shall  be  for  thine  too, 
Captain,  indeed  it  shall.     O  my  Soranoy 
Now  we  shall  live. 

Sor.     I,  now  there's  none  to  trouble  ye. 

Fred.     Captain,  bring  out  the  woman,  and  give  way 
To  any  Suitor  that  shall  come  to  marry  her, 
Of  what  degree  soever. 

Cast.     It  shall  be  done,  Sir.  [Exit  Cast. 

Fre.     O  let  me  have  a  lusty  Banquet  after  it, 

Enter  Evanthe,  Camillo,  Cleanthes,  Menallo,  Fool. 

I  will  be  high  and  merry. 

Sor.     There  be  some  Lords 
That  I  could  counsel  ye  to  fling  from  Court,  Sir, 

63 


A  WIFE  FOR  A  MONETH    ACT  v 

They  pry  into  our  aftions,  they  are  such 

The  foolish  people  call  their  Countries  honours, 

Honest  brave  things,  and  stile  them  with  such  Titles, 

As  if  they  were  the  patterns  of  the  Kingdom, 

Which  makes  them  proud,  and  prone  to  look  into  us, 

And  talk  at  random  of  our  actions, 

They  should  be  lovers  of  your  commands, 

And  followers  of  your  will;  bridles  and  curbs 

To  the  hard  headed  Commons  that  malign  us, 

They  come  here  to  do  honour  to  my  Sister, 

To  laugh  at  your  severity,  and  fright  us; 

If  they  had  power,  what  would  these  men  do? 

Do  you  hear,  Sir,  how  privily  they  whisper? 

Fred.     I  shall  silence  'em, 
And  to  their  shames  within  this  week  Sorano, 
In  the  mean  time  have  patience. 

Sor.    How  they  jeer,  and  look  upon  me  as  I  were  a  Monster  ! 
And  talk  and  jeer !  how  I  shall  pull  your  plumes,  Lords 
How  I  shall  humble  ye  within  these  two  daies  ! 
Your  great  names,  nor  your  Country  cannot  save  ye. 

Fred.     Let  in  the  Suitors.     Yet  submit,  Fie  pardon  ye, 
You  are  half  undone  already,  do  not  wind 
My  anger  to  that  height,  it  may  consume  ye, 

Enter  Lawyer,  Physician,  Captain  Cutpurse. 

And  utterly  destroy  thee,  fair  Evanthe:  yet  I  have  mercy. 

Evan.     Use  it  to  your  bawds, 
To  me  use  cruelty,  it  best  becomes  ye, 
And  shews  more  Kingly:  I  contemn  your  mercy, 
It  is  a  cozening,  and  a  bawdy  mercy; 

Can  any  thing  be  hoped  for,  to  relieve  me?  (Lord. 

Or  is  it  fit  ?  I  thank  you  for  a  pity,  when  you  have  kill'd  my 

Fred.     Who  will  have  her? 

Evan.     My  tears  are  gone, 
My  tears  of  love  to  my  dear  Valeria, 
But  I  have  fill'd  mine  eyes  again  with  anger; 
O  were  it  but  so  powerful  to  consume  ye. 
My  tongue  with  curses  I  have  arm'd  against  ye, 
With  Maiden  curses,  that  Heaven  crowns  with  horrors, 
My  heart  set  round  with  hate  against  thy  tyranny; 


Sc.  i      A  WIFE  FOR  A  MONETH 

0  would  my  hands  could  hold  the  fire  of  Heaven, 
Wrapt  in  the  thunder  that  the  Gods  revenge  with, 
That  like  stern  Justice  I  might  fling  it  on  thee; 
Thou  art  a  King  of  Monsters,  not  of  men, 

And  shortly  thou  wilt  turn  this  Land  to  Devils. 

Fred.     Fie  make  you  one  first,  and  a  wretched  Devil, 
Come  who  will  have  her? 

Law.     I  an't  like  your  Majesty,  I  am  a  Lawyer, 

1  can  make  her  a  Joynture  of  any  mans  Land  in  Naples, 
And  she  shall  keep  it  too,  I  have  a  trick  for  it. 

Fool.    Canst  thou  make  her  a  Joynture  of  thine  honesty? 
Or  thy  abili[t]y,  thou  lewd  abridgment? 
Those  are  non  suted  and  flung  o're  the  bar. 

Phy.     An't  please  your  Majesty  to  give  me  leave, 
I  dare  accept  her;  and  though  old  I  seem,  Lady, 
Like  JEson,  by  my  art  I  can  renew  youth  and  ability. 

Fool.     In  a  powdering  Tub 

Stew  thy  self  tender  again,  like  a  Cock  Chicken, 
The  broth  may  be  good,  but  the  flesh  is  not  fit  for  dogs  sure. 

Capt.     Lady,  take  me,  and  Tie  maintain  thine  honour, 
I  am  a  poor  Captain,  as  poor  people  call  me, 
Very  poor  people,  for  my  Souldiers 
They  are  quartered  in  the  outside  of  the  City, 
Men  of  ability,  to  make  good  a  high  way ; 
We  have  but  two  grand  Enemies  that  oppose  us, 
The  Don  Gout,  and  the  Gallows.  (Jointure; 

Fool.     I  believe  ye,  and  both  these  you  will  bind  her  for  a 
Now  Signior  firk. 

Cut-purse.     Madam,  take  me  and  be  wise, 
I  am  rich  and  nimble,  and  those  are  rare  in  one  man, 
Every  mans  pocket  is  my  Treasury, 
And  no  man  wears  a  Sute  but  fits  me  neatly; 
Cloaths  you  shall  have,  and  wear  the  purest  Linnen, 
I  have  a  tribute  out  of  every  Shop,  Lady, 
Meat  you  shall  eat,  I  have  my  Caters  out  too, 
The  best  and  lustiest,  and  drink  good  Wine,  good  Lady, 
Good  quickening  Wine,  Wine  that  will  make  you  caper. 
And  at  the  worst — 

Fool.     It  is  but  capering  short,  Sir, 
You  seldom  stay  for  Agues  or  for  Surfeits, 

B.-F.  V.  E  65 


A  WIFE  FOR  A  MONETH    ACT  v 

A  shaking  fit  of  a  whip  sometimes  o'retakes  ye, 
Marry  you  dye  most  commonly  of  choakings, 
Obstructions  of  the  halter  are  your  ends  ever; 
Pray  leave  your  horn  and  your  knife  for  her  to  live  on. 

Eva.    Poor  wretched  people,  why  do  you  wrong  your  selves  ? 
Though  I  fear'd  death,  I  should  fear  you  ten  times  more, 
You  are  every  one  a  new  death,  and  an  odious, 
The  earth  will  purifie  corrupted  bodies, 
You'll  make  us  worse  and  stink  eternally. 
Go  home,  go  home  and  get  good  Nurses  for  you, 
Dream  not  of  Wives. 

Fred.    You  shall  have  one  of  'em,  if  they  dare  venture  for  ye. 

Evan.     They  are  dead  already, 
Crawling  diseases  that  must  creep  into 
The  next  grave  they  find  open,  are  these  fit  Husbands 
For  her  you  have  loved,  Sir?  though  you  hate  me  now, 
And  hate  me  mortally,  as  I  hate  you, 
Your  nobleness,  in  that  you  have  done  otherwise, 
And  named  Evantbe  once  as  your  poor  Mistris, 
Might  offer  worthier  choice.  (dye? 

Fre.     Speak,  who  dare  take  her  for  one  moneth,  and  then 

Pby.     Dye,  Sir? 

Fred.     I,  dye  Sir,  that's  the  condition. 

Phy.     One  moneth  is  too  little 
For  me  to  repent  in  for  my  former  pleasure, 
To  go  still  on,  unless  I  were  sure  she  would  kill  me, 
And  kill  me  delicately  before  my  day, 
Make  it  up  a  year,  for  by  that  time  I  must  dye, 
My  body  will  hold  out  no  longer. 

Fred.     No  Sir,  it  must  be  but  a  moneth. 

Law.     Then  farewel  Madam, 
This  is  like  to  be  a  great  year  of  dissention 
Among  good  people,  and  I  dare  not  lose  it, 
There  will  [b]e  money  got. 

Capt.     Bless  your  good  Ladiship,  there's  nothing  in-  the 

(grave  but  bones  and  ashes, 

In  Taverns  there's  good  wine,  and  excellent  wenches, 
And  Surgeons  while  we  live. 

Cutp.     Adieu  sweet  Lady, 
Lay  me  when  I  am  dead  near  a  rich  Alderman, 

66 


Sc.  i       A  WIFE  FOR  A  MONETH 

I  cannot  pick  his  Purse,  no,  Fie  no  dying, 

Though  I  steal  Linnen,  Fie  not  steal  my  shrowd  yet. 

All.     Send  ye  a  happy  match.  [Exeunt. 

Fool.    And  you  all  halters,  you  have  deserved  'em  richly. 
These  do  all  Villanies,  and  mischiefs  of  all  sorts,  yet  those 

(they  fear  not, 
To  flinch  where  a  fair  wench  is  at  the  stake. 

Evan.     Come,  your  sentence,  let  me  dye  :  you  see,  Sir, 
None  of  your  valiant  men  dare  venture  on  me, 
A  Moneth's  a  dangerous  thing. 

Enter  Valerio  disguised. 

Fred.     Away  with  her,  let  her  dye  instantly. 

Evan.     Will  you  then  be  willing 
To  dye  at  the  time  prefixt?  that  I  must  know  too, 
And  know  it  beyond  doubt. 

Fred.     What  if  I  did  wench? 

Evan.     On  that  condition  if  I  had  it  certain, 
I  would  be  your  any  thing,  and  you  should  injoy  me, 
How  ever  in  my  nature  I  abhor  you, 
Yet  as  I  live  I  would  be  obedient  to  you; 
But  when  your  time  came  how  I  should  rejoyce, 
How  then  I  should  bestir  my  self  to  thank  ye, 
To  see  your  throat  cut,  how  my  heart  would  leap,  Sir! 
I  would  dye  with  you,  but  first  I  would  so  torture  ye, 
And  cow  you  in  your  end,  so  despise  you, 
For  a  weak  and  wretched  coward,  you  must  end  sure; 
Still  make  ye  fear,  and  shake,  despised,  still  laugh  at  ye. 

Fred.     Away  with  her,  let  her  dye  instantly. 

Cam.     Stay,  there's  another,  and  a  Gentleman, 
His  habit  shews  no  less,  may  be  his  business 
Is  for  this  Ladies  love. 

Fred.     Say  why  ye  come,  Sir,  and  what  you  are. 

Pal.  I  am  descended  nobly,  a  Prince  by  birth,  and  by  my  trade 
A  Princes  fellow,  Abidos  brought  me  forth,  (a  Souldier, 

My  Parents  Duke  Agenor,  and  fair  Egla, 
My  business  hither  to  renew  my  love 
With  a  young  noble  spirit,  calPd  Valerio ; 
Our  first  acquaintance  was  at  Sea,  in  fight 
Against  a  Turkish  man  of  War,  a  stout  one, 

E2  67 


A  WIFE  FOR  A  MONETH    ACT  v 

Where  Lyon-like  I  saw  him  shew  his  valour, 
And  as  he  had  been  made  of  compleat  vertue, 
Spirit,  and  fire,  no  dregs  of  dull  earth  in  him.  (him. 

Evan.     Thou  art  a  brave  Gentleman,  and  bravely  speakest 

VaL     The  Vessel  dancing  under  him  for  joy, 
And  the  rough  whistling  winds  becalm'd  to  view  him; 
I  saw  the  child  of  honour,  for  he  was  young, 
Deal  such  an  Alms  amongst  the  spightful  Pagans, 
His  towring  sword  flew  like  an  eager  Falkon, 
And  round  about  his  reach  invade  the  Turks, 
He  had  intrencht  himself  in  his  dead  quarries; 
The  silver  Crescents  on  the  tops  they  carried 
Shrunk  in  their  heads  to  see  his  rage  so  bloody, 
And  from  his  fury  suffered  sad  eclipses; 
The  game  of  death  was  never  plaid  more  nobly, 
The  meager  thief  grew  wanton  in  his  mischiefs, 
And  his  shrunk  hollow  eyes  smil'd  on  his  mines. 

Evan.     Heaven  keep  this  Gentleman  from  being  a  Suitor, 
For  I  shall  ne'r  deny  him,  he's  so  noble. 

Val.    But  what  can  last  long?  strength  and  spirit  wasted, 
And  fresh  supplies  flew  on  upon  this  Gentleman, 
Breathless  and  weary  with  oppression, 
And  almost  kill'd  with  killing,  'twas  my  chance 
In  a  tall  Ship  I  had  to  view  the  fight; 
I  set  into  him,  entertain'd  the  Turk, 
And  for  an  hour  gave  him  so  hot  a  breakfast, 
He  clapt  all  linnen  up  he  had  to  save  him, 
And  like  a  Lovers  thought  he  fled  our  fury; 
There  first  I  saw  the  man  I  lov'd,  Valerio, 
There  was  acquainted,  there  my  soul  grew  to  him, 
And  his  to  me,  we  were  the  twins  of  friendship. 

Evan.     Fortune  protect  this  man,  or  I  shall  ruine  him. 

Val.     I  made  this  voyage  to  behold  my  friend, 
To  warm  my  love  anew  at  his  affeftion ; 
But  since  I  landed,  I  have  heard  his  fate: 
My  Father's  had  not  been  to  me  more  cruel, 
I  have  lamented  too,  and  yet  I  keep 
The  treasure  of  a  few  tears  for  you  Lady, 
For  by  description  you  were  his  Evanthe. 

Evan.     Can  he  weep  that's  a  stranger  to  my  story? 

68 


Sc.  i       A  WIFE  FOR  A  MONETH 

And  I  stand  still  and  look  on?     Sir,  I  thank  ye; 

If  noble  spirits  after  their  departure, 

Can  know,  and  wish,  certain  his  soul  gives  thanks  too; 

There  are  your  tears  again,  and  when  yours  fail,  Sir, 

Pray  ye  call  to  me,  I  have  some  store  to  lend  ye.    Your  name  ? 

Val      Urbino. 

Evan.     That  I  may  remember, 
That  little  time  I  have  to  live,  your  friendships, 
My  tongue  shall  study  both.  (Urbinol 

Fred.    Do  you  come  hither,  only  to  tell  this  story,  Prince 

Pal.     My  business  now  is,  Sir,  to  woo  this  Lady. 

Evan.     Blessing  defend  ye;  do  you  know  the  danger? 

Val.     Yes,  and  I  fear  it  not,  danger's  my  play-fellow, 
Since  I  was  man  'thas  been  my  best  companion, 
I  know  your  doom,  'tis  for  a  Moneth  you  give  her, 
And  then  his  life  you  take  that  marries  her. 

Fred.     'Tis  true,  nor  can  your  being  born  a  Prince, 
If  you  accept  the  offer,  free  you  from  it. 

Val.     I  not  desire  it,  I  have  cast  the  worst, 
And  even  that  worst  to  me  is  many  blessings  ; 
I  lov'd  my  friend,  not  measur'd  out  by  time, 
Nor  hired  by  circumstance  of  place  and  honour, 
But  for  his  wealthy  self  and  worth  I  lov'd  him, 
His  mind  and  noble  mold  he  ever  mov'd  in, 
And  wooe  his  friend  because  she  was  worthy  of  him, 
The  only  relique  that  he  left  behind,  Sir; 
To  give  his  ashes  honour,  Lady  take  me, 
And  in  me  keep  Valeria's  love  alive  still, 
When  I  am  gone,  take  those  that  shall  succeed  me, 
Heaven  must  want  light,  before  you  want  a  Husband, 
i\  To  raise  up  heirs  of  love  and  noble  memory, 
'  To  your  unfortunate —  (affliction  ? 

Evan.     Am  I  still  hated  ?  hast  thou  no  end,  O  fate,  of  my 
Was  I  ordain'd  to  be  a  common  Murdress? 
And  of  the  best  men  too?     Good  Sir — 

Val.     Peace  Sweet,  look  on  my  hand. 

Evan.     I  do  accept  the  Gentleman,  I  faint  with  joy. 

Fr.   I  stop  it,  none  shall  have  her,  convey  this  stranger  hence. 

Val.     I  am  no  stranger — Hark  to  the  bell,  that  rings, 
Hark,  hark,  proud  Frederick,  that  was  King  of  mischief, 

69 


A  WIFE  FOR  A  MONETH    ACT  v 

Hark,  thou  abhorred  man,  dost  thou  hear  thy  sentence? 
Does  not  this  bell  ring  in  thine  ears  thy  ruine? 

Fred.     What  bell  is  this? 

Cam.    The  Castle  bell:  Stand  sure,  Sir,  and  move  not,  if 

(you  do  you  perish. 

Men.     It  rings  your  knell;    Alphonsoy  King  Alphonso. 

All.     Alphonso,  King  Alphonso. 

Fred.     I  am  betrai'd,  lock  fast  the  Palace. 

Cam.     We  have  all  the  keys,  Sir. 
And  no  door  here  shall  shut  without  our  Licence. 

Cle.     Do  you  shake  now,  Lord  Soranol  no  new  trick? 
Nor  speedy  poison  to  prevent  this  business? 
No  bawdy  meditation  now  to  fly  to? 

Fred.     Treason,  Treason,  Treason. 

Cam.     Yes,  we  hear  ye, 

Enter  Alphonso,  Rugio,  Marco,  Castruchio,  Queen, 
with  Guard. 

And  we  have  found  the  Traytor  in  your  shape,  Sir, 
We'll  keep  him  fast  too. 

Fred.     Recover'd !  then  I  am  gone, 
The  Sun  of  all  my  pomp  is  set  and  vanisht. 

Alp.    Have  you  not  forgot  this  face  of  mine,  King  Frederick  ? 
Brother,  I  am  come  to  see  you,  and  have  brought 
A  Banquet  to  be  merry  with  your  Grace; 
I  pray  sit  down,  I  do  beseech  your  Majesty, 
And  eat,  eat  freely,  Sir,  why  do  you  start? 
Have  you  no  stomach  to  the  meat  I  bring  you? 
Dare  you  not  taste?  have  ye  no  Antidotes?  , 

You  need  not  fear;  Sorano's  a  good  Apothecary, 
Me  thinks  you  look  not  well,  some  fresh  wine  for  him, 
Some  of  the  same  he  sent  me  by  Sorano; 
I  thank  you  for't,  it  sav'd  my  life,  I  am  bound  to  ye, 
But  how  'twill  work  on  you —  I  hope  your  Lordship 
Will  pledge  him  too,  me  thinks  you  look  but  scurvily, 
And  would  be  put  into  a  better  colour, 
But  I  have  a  candi'd  Toad  for  your  Lordship. 

Sor.     Would  I  had  any  thing  that  would  dispatch  me, 
So  it  were  down,  and  I  out  of  this  fear  once. 

Fred.     Sir,  Thus  low  as  my  duty  now  compells  me, 

70 


Sc.  i       A  WIFE  FOR  A  MONETH 

I  do  confess  my  unbounded  sins,  my  errours, 

And  feel  within  my  soul  the  smarts  already; 

Hide  not  the  noble  nature  of  a  Brother, 

The  pity  of  a  friend,  from  my  afflictions; 

Let  me  a  while  lament  my  misery, 

And  cast  the  load  off  of  my  wantonness, 

Before  I  find  your  fury,  then  strike  home, 

I  do  deserve  the  deepest  blow  of  Justice, 

And  then  how  willingly,  O  death,  Fie  meet  thee! 

Alp.     Rise,  J\^cja_m,  those  sweet  tears  are  potent  speakers, 
And  Brother  live,  but  in  the  Monastery, 
Where  I  lived,  with  the  self  same  silence  too, 
Pie  teach  you  to  be  good  against  your  will,  Brother, 
Your  tongue  has  done  much  harm,  that  must  be  dumb  now; 
The  daily  pilgrimage  to  my  Fathers  Tomb, 
Tears,  sighs,  and  groans,  you  shall  wear  out  your  daies  with, 
And  true  ones  too,  you  shall  perform  dear  Brother; 
Your  diet   shall  be  slender  to  inforce  these;   too  light  a  pe- 

Fred.     I  do  confess  it.  (nance,  Sir. 

Alph.     Sorano  you  shall — 

Sor.     How  he  studies  for  it! 
Hanging's  the  least  part  of  my  penance  certain. 

[Evanthe  Kneels. 

Alph.     What  Lady's  that  that  kneels? 

Cast.     The  chaste  Evanthe. 

Alph.     Sweet,  your  Petition? 

Evan.     'Tis  for  this  bad  man,  Sir, 
Abominable  bad,  but  yet  my  Brother. 

Alph.     The  bad  man  shall  attend  as  bad  a  Master, 
And  both  shall  be  confin'd  within  the  Monastery ; 
His  rank  flesh  shall  be  pull'd  with  daily  fasting, 
But  once  a  week  he  shall  s[m]ell  meat,  he  will  surfeit  else, 
And  his  immodest  mind,  compelled  to  prayer;   1 
On  the  bare  boards  he  shall  lye,  to  remember  \ 
The  wantonness  he  did  commit  in  beds; 
And  drink  fair  water,  that  will  ne'r  inflame  him; 
He  sav'd  my  life,  though  he  purposed  to  destroy  me, 
For  which  Tie  save  his,  though  I  make  it  miserable: 
Madam,  at  Court  I  shall  desire  your  company, 
You  are  wise  and  vertuous,  when  you  please  to  visit 


A  WIFE  FOR  A  MONETH    ACT  v 

My  Brother  Frederick,  you  shall  have  our  Licence, 
My  dear  best  friend,  Valerw. 
jgj  Pal.     Save  Alphonso. 

Omn.     Long  live  Alphonso,  King  of  us,  and  Naples. 
y   Alph.     Is  this  the  Lady  that  the  wonder  goes  on? 
Honoured  sweet  Maid,  here  take  her  my  Valerio, 
The  King  now  gives  her,  she  is  thine  own  without  fear : 
Brother,  have  you  so  much  provision  that  is  good? 
Not  seasoned  by  Sorano  and  his  Cooks? 
That  we  may  venture  on  with  honest  safety, 
We  and  our  friends? 

Fred.     All  that  I  have  is  yours,  Sir. 

Alph.     Come  then,  let's  in,  and  end  this  Nuptial, 
Then  to  our  Coronation  with  all  speed : 
My  vertuous  Maid,  this  day  I'le  be  your  Bride-man, 
And  see  you  bedded  to  your  own  desires  too; 
Beshrew  me  Lords,  who  is  not  merry  hates  me, 
Only  Sorano  shall  not  bear  my  cup: 
Come,  now  forget  old  pains  and  injuries, 
As  I  must  do,  and  drown  all  in  fair  healths ; 
That  Kingdom's  blessed,  where  the  King  begins 
His  true  love  first,  for  there  all  loves  are  twins. 

[Exeunt  Omnes. 


Prologue. 


YOu  are  wellcome  Gentlemen,  and  would  our  Feast 
Were  so  well  seasoned,  to  please  every  Guest; 
Ingenuous  appetites,  I  hope  we  shall. 
And  their  examples  may  prevail  in  all. 
Our  noble  friend,  who  writ  this,  bid  me  say, 
He  had  rather  dress,  upon  a  Triumph  day, 

72 


A  WIFE  FOR  A  MONETH 

My  Lord  Ma\_y\ors  Feast,  and  make  him  Sawces  too, 

Sawce  for  each  several  mouth,  nay  further  go, 

He  had  rather  build  up  those  invincible  Pyes 

And  Castle  Custards  that  affright  all  eyes, 

Nay  eat  'em  all  and  their  Artillery, 

Than  dress  for  such  a  curious  company 

One  single  dish;  yet  he  has  pleased  ye  too, 

And  you've  confest  he  knew  well  what  to  do; 

Be  hungry  as  you  were  wont  to  be,  and  bring, 

Sharp  stomachs  to  the  stories  he  shall  sing, 

And  he  dare  yet,  he  sates,  prepare  a   Table 

Shall  make  you  say,  well  drest,  and  he  well  able. 


Epilogue. 

WE  have  your  favours,  Gentlemen,  and  you 
Have  our  indeavours,  (dear  Friends  grudge  not  now,) 
There's  none  of  you,  but  when  you  please  can  sell 
Many  a  lame  Horse,  and  many  a  fair  tale  tell; 
Can  put  off  many  a  Maid  unto  a  friend, 
That  was  not  so  since  th'  attion  at  Mile-end; 
Ours  is  a  Virgin  yet,  and  they  that  love 
Untainted  flesh,  we  hope  our  friends  will  prove. 


73 


THE 

LOVERS  PROGRESS. 

A  '  •  '" 

TRAGEDY. 


Persons  Represented  in  the  Play. 


King  of  France. 

Oleander,  Husband  to  Calista. 

Lidian,  Brother  to  Calista,  ( , both  '" 

Clarange,  Rival  to  Lidian,  j  QfiSi 

Dorilaus,  Father  to  Lidian  and  Ca 
lista,  a  merry  old  man. 

Lisander,  a  noble  Gentleman,  in  love 
with  Calista. 

Alcidon,  a  friend,  and  second  to 
Lidian. 

Beronte,  Brother  to  Cleander. 

Lem[ure],  a  noble  Courtier. 

Leon,  a  Villain,  Lover  of  Clarinda. 

Mallfort,  a  foolish  Steward  of  Cle 
ander. 


Lancelot,  Servant  to  Lisander. 

Fryar. 

Hosts  ghost. 

Chamberlain. 

Servants. 


WOMEN. 

Calista,  a  vertuous  Lady,   Wife  to 

Cleander. 
Olinda,  a  noble  Maid,  and  rich  Heir, 

Mistress  to  Lidian  and  Clarange. 
Clarinda,  a  lustful  Wench,  Calista'/ 

waiting  woman. 


'The  Scene  France. 


The  principal  Actors  were, 


Joseph  'Taylor. 
Robert  Benfield. 
Thomas  Polard. 
George  Birch. 


John  Lowin. 
John   Underwood. 
Richard  Sharps. 
John  Thomson. 


74 


ACT  i     THE   LOVERS    PROGRESS 

ASlus  Primus.     Scena  Prima. 

Enter  Leon,  and  Mallfort. 

Mai.     A   ND  as  I  told  you,  Sir. 

X~\.     Leon.     I  understand  you, 
C/arinda's  still  perverse. 

MaL     She's  worse,  obdurate, 
Flinty,  relentless,  my  love-passions  jeer'd  at, 
My  Presents  scorn'd. 

Leon.     'Tis  strange  a  waiting-woman, 
In  her  condition  apt  to  yield,  should  hold  out, 
A  man  of  your  place,  reverend  Beard  and  shape, 
Besieging  her. 

MaL     You  might  add  too  my  wealth, 
Which  she  contemns,  five  hundred  Crowns  per  annum^ 
For  which  I  have  ventur'd  hard,  my  Conscience  knows  it, 
Not  thought  upon,  though  offer'd  for  a  Joynture; 
This  Chain  which  my  Lords  Pesants  worship,  flouted; 
My  solemn  hums  and  ha's,  the  servants  quake  at, 
No  Rhetorick  with  her;  every  hour  she  hangs  out 
Some  new  Flag  of  defiance  to  torment  me; 
Last  Lent,  my  Lady  calPd  me  her  Poor  John, 
But  now  I  am  grown  a  walking  Skeleton^ 
You  may  see  through,  and  through  me. 

Leon.     Indeed  you  are  much  fain  away. 

MaL     I  am  a  kind  of  nothing, 
As  she  hath  made  me;  Love's  a  terrible  Clyster, 
And  if  some  Cordial  of  her  favours  help  not, 
I  shall  like  an  Italian,  dye  backward, 
And  breathe  my  last  the  wrong  way. 

Lem.    As  I  live,  you  have  my  pity  ;  but  this  is  cold  comfort, 
And  in  a  friend  lip-physick;  and  now  I  think  on't, 
I  should  do  more,  and  will,  so  you  deny  not 
Your  self  the  means  of  comfort. 

MaL     I'll  be  hang'd  first;  one  dram  oft  I  beseech  you. 

Leon.     You  are  not  jealous  of  any  mans  access  to  her? 

MaL     I  would   not    receive   the   Dory  but   as   a   bosome 
You  shall  direct  me,  still  provided  that  (friend 

I  understand  who  is  the  man,  and  what 

75 


THE   LOVERS    PROGRESS     ACT  i 

His  purpose,  that  pleads  for  me. 

Leon.     By  all  means: 
First,  for  the  undertaker,  I  am  he ; 
The  means  that  I  will  practise,  thus — 

Mai.     Pray  you  forward. 

Leon.     You  know  your  Lady,  chaste  Calista  loves  her. 

Mai.     Too  well,  that  makes  her  proud. 

Leon.     Nay,  give  me  leave, 
This  beauteous  Lady,  I  may  stile  her  so, 
(Being  the  paragon  of  France  for  feature) 
Is  not  alone  contented  in  her  self 
To  seem,  and  be  good,  but  desires  to  make 
All  such  as  have  dependance  on  her,  like  her; 
For  this  Clarincta's  liberty  is  restrained; 
And  though  her  kinsman,  the  gate's  shut  against  me; 
Now  if  you  please  to  make  your  self  the  door, 
For  my  conveyance  to  her,  though  you  run 
The  hazard  of  a  check  for't,  'tis  no  matter. 

Mai.     It  being  for  mine  own  ends. 

Leon.     I'll  give  it  o'r, 

If  that  you  make  the  least  doubt  otherwise: 
Study  upon't :  good  morrow. 

Mai.     Pray  you  stay,  Sir; 
You  are  my  friend ;  yet  as  the  Proverb  says, 
When  love  puts  in,  friendship  is  gone:  suppose 
You  should  your  self  affeft  her? 

Leon.     Do  you  think  I'll  commit  incest?  for  it  is  no  less, 
She  being  my  Cousin  German.     Fare  you  well,  Sir. 

Mai.     I  had  forgot  that,  for  this  once  forgive  me. 
Only  to  ease  the  throbbing  of  my  heart, 
(For  I  do  feel  strange  pangs)  instruct  me  what 
You  will  say  for  me. 

Leon.     First,  I'll  tell  her  that 
She  hath  so  far  besotted  you,  that  you  have 
Almost  forgot  to  cast  accompt. 

Mai.     Meer  truth,  Sir. 

Leon.     That  of  a  wise  and  provident  Steward, 
You  are  turn'd  stark  Ass. 

Mai.     Urge  that  point  home,  I  am  so. 

Leon.     That  you  adore  the  ground  she  treads  upon, 


Sc.  i       THE   LOVERS    PROGRESS 

And  kiss  her  footsteps. 

Mai.     As  I  do  when  I  find  their  print  in  the  snow. 

Leon.     A  loving  fool  I  know  it, 
By  your  bloudless  frosty  lips;  then  having  related 
How  much  you  suffer  for  her,  and  how  well 
You  do  deserve  it — 

Mai.     How  ?  to  suffer  ? 

Leon.     No,  Sir,  to  have  your  love  return'd. 

Mai.     That's  good,  I  thank  you. 

Leon.     I  will  deliver  her  an  Inventory 
Of  your  good  parts:  as  this,  your  precious  nose 
Dropping  affedtion;  your  high  forehead  reaching 
Almost  to  the  Crown  of  your  head;  your  slender  waste, 
And  a  back  not  like  a  threshers,  but  a  bending, 
And  Court-like  back,  and  so  forth,  for  your  Body. 
But  when  I  touch  your  mind,  for  that  must  take  her, 
(Since  your  out-side  promises  little)  I'll  enlarge  it, 
(Though  ne'r  so  narrow)  as  your  arts  to  thrive, 
Your  composition  with  the  Cook  and  Butler 
For  Cony-Skins  and  Chippings,  and  half  a  share 
With  all  the  under  Officers  of  the  house, 
In  strangers  bounties,  that  she  shall  have  all, 
And  you  as  'twere  her  Bailiff. 

Mai.     As  I  will  be. 

Leon.    As  you  shall,  so  I'll  promise.    Then  your  qualities, 
As  playing  on  a  Gyttern,  or  a  Jews-Trump. 

Mai.     A  little  too  on  the  Viol. 

Leon.     Fear  you  nothing. 

Then  singing  her  asleep  with  curious  Catches 
Of  your  own  making;  for  as  I  have  heard, 
You  are  Poetical. 

Mai.     Something  given  that  way; 
Yet  my  works  seldom  thrive:  and  the  main  reason 
The  Poets  urge  for't,  is,  because  I  am  not 
As  poor  as  they  are. 

Leon.     Very  likely;  fetch  her 
While  I  am  in  the  vein. 

Mai.     'Tis  an  apt  time,  my  Lady  being  at  her  Prayers. 

Leon.     Let  her  pray  on. 
Nay  go,  and  if  upon  my  intercession 

77 


THE   LOVERS   PROGRESS     ACT  i 

She  do  you  not  some  favour,  I'll  disclaim  her; 
I'll  ruminate  on't  the  while. 

Mai.     A  hundred  Crowns  is  your  reward. 

Leon.     Without  'em — nay  no  trifling.  [Ex.  Mai. 

That  this  dull  clod  of  ignorance  should  know 
How  to  get  money,  yet  want  eyes  to  see 
How  grosly  he's  abus'd,  and  wrought  upon! 
When  he  should  make  his  will,  the  Rogue's  turn'd  rampant, 
As  he  had  renew'd  his  youth;  a  handsome  wench, 
Love  one  a  spittle-whore  would  run  away  from? 
Well,  Master  Steward,  I  will  plead  for  you 
In  such  a  method,  as  it  shall  appear 
You  are  fit  to  be  a  property. 

Enter  Malfort,  and  Clarinda. 

Mai.     Yonder  he  walks 
That  knows  my  worth  and  value,  though  you  scorn  it. 

Clar.     If  my  Lady  know  not  this — 

Mai.     I'll  answer  it: 

If  you  were  a  Nun  I  hope  your  Cousin  German 
Might  talk  with  you  through  a  grate,  but  you  are  none, 
And  therefore  may  come  closer;  ne'r  hang  off, 
As  I  live  you  shall  bill;  ye  may  salute  as  strangers, 
Custom  allows  it.     Now,  now,  come  upon  her 
With  all  your  Oratory,  [tickle  her  to  the  quick,] 
As  a  young  Advocate  should,  and  leave  no  Vertue 
Of  mine  unmentioned,  I'll  stand  centinel; 
Nay  keep  the  door  my  self.  [Exit. 

Clar.     How  have  you  work'd 
This  piece  of  motley  to  your  ends? 

Leon.     Of  that  at  leasure,  Mistriss.  [Kissing. 

Clar.     Lower,  you  are  too  loud, 
Though  the  fool  be  deaf,  some  of  the  house  may  hear  you. 

Leon.     Suppose  they  should,  I  am  a  Gentleman, 
And  held  your  Kinsman,  under  that  I  hope 
I  may  be  free. 

Clar.     I  grant  it,  but  with  caution; 
But  be  not  seen  to  talk  with  me  familiarly, 
But  at  fit  distance,  or  not  seen  at  all, 
It  were  the  better;  you  know  my  Ladies  humour, 

78 


Sc.  i       THE   LOVERS    PROGRESS 

She  is  all  honour,  and  composed  of  goodness, 
(As  she  pretends)  and  you  having  no  business, 
How  jealous  may  she  grow? 

Leon.     I  will  be  ruPd. 
But  you  have  promis'd,  and  I  must  enjoy  you. 

Clar.     We  shall  find  time  for  that;  you  are  too  hasty, 
Make  your  self  fit  and  I  shall  make  occasion, 
Deliberation  makes  best  in  that  business, 
And  contents  every  way. 

Leon.     But  you  must  feed 
This  foolish  Steward  with  some  shadow  of 
A  future  favour,  that  we  may  preserve  him 
To  be  our  instrument. 

Clar.     Hang  him. 

Leon.     For  my  sake,  Sweet, 
I  undertook  to  speak  for  him,  any  Bauble, 
Or  slight  employment  in  the  way  of  service, 
Will  feed  him  fat. 

Enter  Malfort. 

Clar.     Leave  him  to  me. 

Mai.     She  comes,  my  Lady. 

Clar.     I  will  satisfie  her. 

Mai.     How  far  have  you  prevail'd? 

Leon.     Observe. 

Clar.     Monsieur  Malfort, 
I  must  be  brief,  my  cousin  hath  spoke  much 
In  your  behalf,  and  to  give  you  some  proof, 
I  entertain  you  as  my  servant, 
You  shall  have  the  grace. 

Leon.     Upon  your  knee  receive  it. 

Clar.     And  take  it  as  a  special  favour  from  me, 
To  tye  my  shooe. 

Malf.     I  am  o're-joy'd. 

Leon.     Good  reason. 

Clar.     You  may  come  higher  in  time. 

Leon.     No  more,  the  Lady. 

Enter  Calista. 
Malf.     She  frowns. 

79 


THE    LOVERS    PROGRESS     ACT  i 

Clar.  I  thank  you  for  this  visit  cousin, 
But  without  leave  hereafter  from  my  Lady, 
I  dare  not  change  discourse  with  you. 

Malf.     Pray  you  take  your  mornings  draught. 

Leon.     I  thank  you :  [Exeunt  Leon,  Malf. 

Happiness  attend  your  honour. 

Calist.     Who  gave  warrant  to  this  private  parle? 

Clar.     My  innocence;  I  hope 
My  conference  with  a  kinsman  cannot  call 
Your  anger  on  me. 

Calist.     Kinsman?    Let  me  have 
No  more  of  this,  as  you  desire  you  may  continue  mine. 

Clar.     Why  madam  (under  pardon) 
Suppose  him  otherwise:  yet  coming  in 
A  lawfull  way,  it  is  excusable. 

Calist.     How's  this? 

Clar.     I  grant  you  are  made  of  pureness, 
And  that  your  tenderness  of  honour  holds 
The  soveraigntie  o're  your  passions.     Yet  you  have 
A  noble  Husband,  with  allow'd  embraces, 
To  quench  lascivious  fires,  should  such  flame  in  you, 
As  I  must  ne're  believe.     Were  I  the  wife 
Of  one  that  could  but  zanie  brave  Oleander ', 
Even  in  his  least  perfections,  (excuse 
My  o're-bold  inference)  I  should  desire 
To  meet  no  other  object. 

Cal.     You  grow  saucie.     Do  I  look  further? 

Clar.     No,  dear  Madam:  and 
It  is  my  wonder  or  astonishment  rather, 
You  could  deny  the  service  of  Lisander; 
A  man  without  a  rival:  one  the  King 
And  Kingdom  gazes  on  with  admiration, 
For  all  the  excellencies  a  Mother  could 
Wish  in  her  only  Son. 

Cal.     Did  not  mine  honour 
And  obligation  to  Oleander^  force  me 
To  be  deaf  to  his  complaints? 

Clar.     'Tis  true;  but  yet 

Your  rigor  to  command  him  from  your  presence, 
Argu'd  but  small  compassion;  the  Groves 

80 


Sc.  i       THE    LOVERS    PROGRESS 

Witness  his  grievous  sufferings,  your  fair  name 
Upon  the  rinde  of  every  gentle  Poplar, 
And  amorous  Myrtle,  (trees  to  Venus  sacred) 
With  adoration  carv'd,  and  knee[l']d  unto, 
This  you  (unseen  of  him)  both  saw  and  heard 
Without  compassion,  and  what  receiv'd  he 
For  his  true  sorrows?  but  the  heavy  knowledge, 
That  'twas  your  peremptory  will  and  pleasure, 
(How  e're  my  Lord  liv'd  in  him)  he  should  quit 
Your  sight  and  house  for  ever. 

Cal.     I  confess  I  gave  him  a  strong  potion  to  work 
Upon  his  hot  bloud,  and  I  hope  'twill  cure  him: 
Yet  I  could  wish  the  cause  had  concerned  others, 
I  might  have  met  his  sorrows  with  more  pity; 
At  least  have  lent  some  counsel  to  his  miseries, 
Though  now  for  honours  sake,  I  must  forget  him, 
And  never  know  the  name  more  of  Lisander: 
Yet  in  my  justice  I  am  bound  to  grant  him, 
(Laying  his  love  aside)  most  truely  noble. 
But  mention  him  no  more,  this  instant  hour 
My  Brother  Lidian,  new  returned  from  travel, 
And  his  brave  friend  Clarange,  long  since  rivals 
For  fair  and  rich  Olinda,  are  to  hear 
Her  absolute  determination,  whom 
She  pleases  to  elect :  see  all  things  ready 
To  entertain  'em:  and  on  my  displeasure 
No  more  words  of  Lisander.  (her  own : 

Clar.     She  endures  to  hear  him  nam'd  by  no  tongue  but 
How  e're  she  carries  it,  I  know  she  loves  him.  [Exit. 

Cal.     Hard  nature :  hard  condition  of  poor  women ! 
That  where  we  are  most  su'd  to,  we  must  flye  most. 
The  trees  grow  up,  and  mix  together  freely, 
The  Oak's  not  envious  of  the  sailing  Cedar, 
The  lustie  Vine  not  jealous  of  the  Ivie 
Because  she  clips  the  Elm;  the  flowers  shoot  up, 
And  wantonly  kiss  one  another  hourly, 
This  blossome  glorying  in  the  others  beauty, 
And  yet  they  smell  as  sweet,  and  look  as  lovely: 
But  we  are  ty'd  to  grow  alone.     O  honour, 
Thou  hard  Law  to  our  lives,  chain  to  our  freedoms 

B.-F.  v.  F  8 1 


THE   LOVERS    PROGRESS     ACT  i 

He  that  invented  thee  had  many  curses; 

How  is  my  soul  divided!     O  Oleander, 

My  best  deserving  husband!     O  Lisander, 

The  truest  lover  that  e're  sacrificed 

To  Cupid  against  Hymen  \     O  mine  honour; 

A  Tyrant,  yet  to  be  obey'd!   and  'tis 

But  justice  we  should  thy  strict  Laws  endure, 

Since  our  obedience  to  thee  keeps  us  pure.  [Exit. 

Enter  Cle[a]nder,  Lidian,  and  Clarange. 

Clean.     How  insupportable  the  difference 
Of  dear  friends  is,  the  sorrow  that  I  feel 
For  my  Lisanders  absence,  one  that  stamps 
A  reverend  print  on  friendship,  does  assure  me. 
You  are  rivals  for  a  Lady,  a  fair  Lady, 
And  in  the  acquisition  of  her  favours, 
Hazard  the  cutting  of  that  Gordian  knot 
From  your  first  childhood  to  this  present  hour, 
By  all  the  tyes  of  love  and  amity  fastened. 
I  am  blest  in  a  wife  (Heaven  make  me  thankfull) 
Inferiour  to  none  (sans  pride  I  speak  it) 
Yet  if  I  were  a  free-man,  and  could  purchase 
At  any  rate  the  certainty  to  enjoy 
Lisanders  conversation  while  I  liv'd, 
Forgive  me  my  Calistay  and  the  Sex, 
I  never  would  seek  change. 

Lid.     My  Lord  and  Brother, 
I  dare  not  blame  your  choice,  Lisanders  worth 
Being  a  Mistris  to  be  ever  courted; 
Nor  shall  our  equal  suit  to  fair  Olinda 
Weaken,  but  adde  strength  to  our  true  affection, 
With  zeal  so  long  continued. 

Claran.     When  we  know 

Whom  she  prefers,  as  she  can  choose  but  one, 
By  our  so  long  tri'd  friendship  we  have  vow'd 
The  other  shall  desist. 

Clea.     'Tis  yet  your  purpose, 
But  how  this  resolution  will  hold 
In  him  that  is  refus'd,  is  not  alone 
Doubtfull,  but  dangerous. 

82 


Sc.  i       THE   LOVERS   PROGRESS 

Enter  Malfort. 

Malf.     The  rich  heir  is  come  Sir. 

Cleand.     Madam  Olindal 

Malf.     Yes  Sir,  and  makes  choice, 
After  some  little  conference  with  my  Lady, 
Of  this  room  to  give  answer  to  her  suitors. 

Cle.     Already  both  look  pale,  between  your  hopes 
To  win  the  prize,  and  your  despair  to  lose 
What  you  contended  for. 

Lid.     No  Sir,  I  am  arm'd. 

Clar.     I  confident  of  my  interest. 

Cle.     Fie  believe  ye  when  you  have  endur'd  the  test. 

Enter  Calista,  Olinda,  and  Clarinda. 

Malf.     Is  not  your  garter 

Unty'd?  you  promis'd  that  I  should  grow  higher 
In  doing  you  service. 

Clar.     Fall  off  or  you  lose  me.  [Exit  Malfort. 

Cle.     Nay  take  your  place,  no  Paris  now  sits  judge 
On  the  contending  goddesses.     You  are 
The  Deitie  that  must  make  curst  or  happy 
One  of  your  languishing  servants. 

01.     I  thus  look  with  equal  eyes  on  both ;  either  deserves 
A  fairer  fortune  than  they  can  in  reason 
Hope  for  from  me;  from  Lidian  I  expert, 
When  I  have  made  him  mine,  all  pleasures  that 
The  sweetness  of  his  manners,  youth,  and  vertues 
Can  give  assurance  of:  but  turning  this  way 
To  brave  Clarange,  in  his  face  appears 
A  kind  of  Majesty  which  should  command, 
Not  sue  for  favour.     If  the  fairest  Lady 
Of  France,  set  forth  with  natures  best  endowments 
Nay  should  I  adde  a  Princess  of  the  bloud, 
Did  now  lay  claim  to  either  for  a  husband, 
So  vehement  my  affeftion  is  to  both, 
My  envie  at  her  happiness  would  kill  me. 

Cle.     The  strangest  love  I  ever  heard. 

Cal.     You  can  enjoy  but  one. 

Clar.     The  more  I  say  the  merrier. 

OK.     Witness  these  tears  I  love  both,  as  I  know 

F2  83 


THE   LOVERS   PROGRESS     ACT  i 

You  burn  with  equal  flames,  and  so  affect  me; 

Abundance  makes  me  poor;  such  is  the  hard 

Condition  of  my  fortune;  be  your  own  judges; 

If  I  should  favour  both,  'twill  taint  my  honour, 

And  that  before  my  life  I  must  prefer; 

If  one  I  lean  to,  the  other  is  disvalued; 

You  are  fierie  both,  and  love  will  make  you  warmer. 

Clar.    The  warmer  still  the  fitter.    You  are  a  fool  Lady. 

OK.    Xo  what  may  love,  and  the  Devil  jealousie  spur  you 
Is  too  apparent:  my  name's  call'd  in  question: 
Your  swords  flie  out,  your  angers  range  at  large: 
Then  what  a  murther  of  my  modesty  follows? 

Clar.     Take  heed  of  that  by  any  means:  O  innocent, 
That  will  deny  a  blessing  when  'tis  offer'd, 
Would  I  were  murther'd  so,  I  would  thank  my  modesty. 

Cle.     What  pause  you  on? 

OK.     It  is  at  length  resolv'd. 

Clar.     We  are  on  the  Rack,  uncertain  expectation 
The  greatest  torture. 

Lidi.     Command  what  you  please, 
And  you  shall  see  how  willingly  we  will  execute. 

OK.     Then  hear  what  for  your  satisfaction, 
And  to  preserve  your  friendship  I  resolve 
Against  my  self,  and  'tis  not  to  be  alter'd  : 
You  are  both  brave  gentlemen,  He  still  profess  it, 
Both  noble  servants,  for  whose  gentle  offers, 
The  undeserving,  and  the  poor  Olinda 
Is  ever  bound ;  you  love  both,  fair,  and  vertuously ; 
Would  I  could  be  so  happy  to  content  both : 
Which  since  I  cannot,  take  this  resolute  answer; 
Go  from  me  both  contentedly,  and  he 
That  last  makes  his  return,  and  comes  to  visit, 
Comes  to  my  bed.     You  know  my  will:  farewel; 
My  heart's  too  big  to  utter  more :  come  friend. 

Cal.     He  wait  on  you  to  your  Coach. 

[Exeunt  Olinda,  Calista,  Clarinda. 

Cle.     You  both  look  blank,  I  cannot  blame  you. 

Lid.     We  have  our  dispatches. 

Clara.     He  home. 

Lid.     And  He  abroad  again,  Farewel. 


Sc.  i       THE   LOVERS    PROGRESS 

Clara.     Farewel  to  ye. 

[Exeunt  Clarange,  and  Lidian. 

Cle.     Their  blunted  departure  troubles  me:  I  fear 
A  suddain  and  a  dangerous  division 
Of  their  long  love  will  follow:  have  you  took 
Your  leave  of  fair  Olinda  ? 

Enter  Calista,  with  a  purse. 

C[al].     She  is  gone  Sir. 

Cle.     Had  you  brought  news  Lisander  were  return'd  too, 
I  were  most  happy. 

Gal.     Still  upon  Lisander} 

Cle.     I  know  he  loves  me,  as  he  loves  his  health: 
And  Heaven  knows  I  love  him. 

Gal     I  find  it  so: 
For  me  you  have  forgot,  and  what  I  am  to  you. 

Cle.     O  think  not  so.     If  you  had  lost  a  Sister 
You  lock'd  all  your  delights  in,  it  would  grieve  you: 
A  little  you  would  wander  from  the  fondness 
You  ow'd  your  husband:  I  have  lost  a  friend, 
A  noble  friend,  all  that  was  excellent 
In  man,  or  man-kind,  was  contain'd  within  him, 
That  loss  my  wife — 

Enter  Malfort. 

Malf.     Madam,  your  noble  Father — 
A  fee  for  my  good  news. 

Gal     Why?  what  of  him  Sir? 

Mai.     Is  lighted  at  the  door,  and  longs  to  see  you. 

Calist.     Attend  him  hither. 

Clean.     O  my  dear  Lisander. 
But  Tie  be  merry:  let's  meet  him  my  Calista. 

Gal.     I  hope  Lisander s  love  will  now  be  buried: 
My  Father  will  bring  joy  enough  for  one  moneth, 
To  put  him  out  of  memorie. 

Enter  Dorilaus,  bis  arm  in  a  scarff. 

Dor.     How  do  you  Son? 
Bless  my  fair  child,  I  am  come  to  visit  yee, 
To  see  what  house  you  keep,  they  say  you  are  bountifull, 

85 


THE   LOVERS    PROGRESS     ACT  i 

I  like  the  noise  well,  and  I  come  to  trie  it. 
Ne're  a  great  belly  yet?  how  have  you  trifl'd? 
If  I  had  done  so  (Son)  I  should  have  heard  on't 
On  both  sides  by  Saint  Denis. 

Clean.     You  are  nobly  welcom  Sir: 
We  have  time  enough  for  that. 

Dorilaus.     See  how  she  blushes! 

'Tis  a  good  sign  you'l  mend  your  fault,  how  dost  thou, 
My  good  Calistal 

Gal.     Well,  now  I  see  you  Sir; 
I  hope  you  bring  a  fruitfulness  along  with  ye. 

Dor.     Good  luck,  I  never  miss,  I  was  ever  good  at  it: 
Your  mother  groan'd  for't  wench,  so  did  some  other, 
But  I  durst  never  tell. 

Cal.     How  does  your  arm  Sir? 

Cle.     Have  you  been  let  bloud  of  late? 

Dor.     Against  my  will  Sir. 

Cal.     A  fall  dear  Father? 

Dor.     No,  a  Gun,  dear  Daughter; 
Two  or  three  Guns;  I  have  one  here  in  my  buttock, 
'Twould  trouble  a  Surgeons  teeth  to  pull  it  out. 

Cal.     O  me!  O  me! 

Dor.     Nay,  if  you  fall  to  fainting, 
'Tis  time  for  me  to  trudge:  art  such  a  coward, 
At  the  meer  name  of  hurt  to  change  thy  colour? 
I  have  been  shot  that  men  might  see  clean  through  me, 
And  yet  I  fainted  not:  besides  my  self, 
Here  are  an  hospital  of  hurt  men  for  ye. 

Enter  Servants,  wounded  in  several  places. 

Clean.     What  should  this  wonder  be? 

Cal.     I  am  amaz'd  at  it.  (soundly, 

Doril.  What  think  ye  of  these?  they  are  every  one  hurt 
Hurt  to  the  proof,  they  are  through,  and  through  I  assure  ye ; 
And  that's  good  game,  they  scorn  your  puling  scratches. 

Cal.     Who  did  this  Sir? 

Dor.     Leave  crying,  and  I'le  tell  you, 
And  get  your  plaisters,  and  your  warm  stupes  ready: 
Have  you  ne're  a  Shepheard  that  can  tarr  us  over? 
'Twill  prove  a  business  else,  we  are  so  many. 

86 


Sc.  i       THE   LOVERS    PROGRESS 

Coming  to  see  you,  I  was  set  upon, 
I  and  my  men,  as  we  were  singing  frolickly, 
Not  dreaming  of  an  ambush  of  base  Rogues, 
Set  on  i'th*  forest,  I  have  forgot  the  name — 

Cle.     'Twixt  this,  and  Fountaine-Bleau, 
In  the  wild  Forest? 

Dor.     The  same,  the  same,  in  that  accursed  Forest, 
Set  on  by  villains,  that  make  boot  of  all  men, 
The  Peers  of  France  are  pillage  there,  they  shot  at  us, 
Hurt  us,  un-hors'd  us,  came  to  the  sword,  there  plfd  us, 
Opprest  us  with  fresh  multitudes,  fresh  shot  still, 
Rogues  that  would  hang  themselves  for  a  fresh  doublet, 
And  for  a  Scarlet  Cassock  kill  their  Fathers. 

Cle.     Lighted  you  among  these? 

Dor.     Among  these  murtherers, 

Our  poor  blouds  were  ingag'd:  yet  we  strook  bravely, 
And  more  than  once  or  twice  we  made  them  shun  us, 
And  shrink  their  rugged  heads:  but  we  were  hurt  all. 

Cle.     How  came  you  off?   for  I  even  long  to  hear  that. 

Dor.     After  our  prayers  made  to  Heaven  to  help  us, 
Or  to  be  mercifull  unto  our  souls; 
So  near  we  were.     Alas  poor  wench,  wipe,  wipe. 
See  Heaven  sends  remedy. 

Cat.     I  am  glad  'tis  come  Sir, 
My  heart  was  even  a  bleeding  in  my  body. 

Dor.     A  curl'd  hair  Gentleman  stept  in,  a  stranger, 
As  he  rod  by,  belike  he  heard  our  bickering, 
Saw  our  distresses,  drew  his  sword,  and  prov'd 
He  came  to  execute,  and  not  to  argue. 
Lord  what  a  lightning  methought  flew  about  him, 
When  he  once  toss'd  his  blade !  in  face  Adonis, 
While  peace  inhabited  between  his  eye-brows: 
But  when  his  noble  anger  stirr'd  his  metal, 
And  blew  his  fierie  parts  into  a  flame, 
Like  Pallas,  when  she  sits  between  two  armies, 
Viewing  with  horrid  brows  their  sad  events, 
Such  then  he  look'd:  and  as  her  shield  had  arm'd  him. 

Cal.     This  man  Sir  were  a  friend  to  give  an  age  for. 
This  Gentleman  I  must  love  naturally: 
Nothing  can  keep  me  offj  I  pray  you  go  on  Sir. 

8? 


THE   LOVERS    PROGRESS     ACT  i 

Dor.     I  will,  for  now  you  please  me:  this  brave  youth, 
This  bud  of  Mar s^  for  yet  he  is  no  riper, 
When  once  he  had  drawn  bloud,  and  flesh'd  his  sword, 
Fitted  his  manly  metal  to  his  spirit, 
How  he  bestirr'd  him !  what  a  lane  he  made ! 
And  through  their  fierie  Bullets  thrust  securely: 
The  hardned  villains  wondring  at  his  confidence, 
Lame  as  I  was  I  follow'd,  and  admir'd  too, 
And  stirr'd,  and  laid  about  me  with  new  spirit, 
My  men  too  with  new  hearts  thrust  into  action, 
And  down  the  Rogues  went. 

Cle.     I  am  struck  with  wonder. 

Dor.     Remember  but  the  storie  of  strong  Hettor, 
When  like  to  lightning  he  broke  through  his  vanguard, 
How  the  Greeks  frighted  ran  away  by  Troops, 
And  trod  down  Troops  to  save  their  lives :  so  this  man 
Dispers'd  these  slaves:  had  they  been  more  and  mightier, 
He  had  come  off  the  greater,  and  more  wonder. 

Cle.    Where  is  the  man,  good  Sir,  that  we  may  honour  him  ? 

Cal.     That  we  may  fall  in  superstition  to  him. 

Dor.     I  know  not  that,  from  me  he  late  departed, 
But  not  without  that  pious  care  to  see  safe 
Me,  and  my  weak  men  lodg'd,  and  dress'd;  I  urg'd  him 
First  hither,  that  I  might  more  freely  thank  him: 
He  told  me  he  had  business,  crav'd  my  pardon, 
Business  of  much  import. 

Cle.     Know  you  his  name? 

Dor.     That  he  deny'd  me  too:  a  vow  had  bar'd  him. 

Cal.     In  that  he  was  not  noble  to  be  nameless. 

Dor.    Daughter  you  must  remember  him  when  I  am  dead, 
And  in  a  noble  sort  requite  his  piety, 
'Twas  his  desire  to  dedicate  this  service 
To  your  fair  thoughts. 

Cal.     He  knows  me  then? 

Dor.     I  nam'd  you, 
And  nam'd  you  mine:  I  think  that's  all  his  knowledge. 

Cle.     No  name,  no  being? 

Cal.     Now  I  am  mad  to  know  him : 
Saving  mine  honour,  any  thing  I  had  now 
But  to  enjoy  his  sight,  but  his  bare  pidlure; 

88 


ACT  ii    THE   LOVERS   PROGRESS 

Make  me  his  Saint,  I  must  needs  honour  him. 

Serv.     I  know  his  name. 

Cal.     There's  thy  reward  for't;  speak  it. 

Ser.     His  man  told  me,  but  he  desir'd  my  silence. 

Cal.     O  Jasper  speak,  'tis  thy  good  Masters  cause  too: 
We  all  are  bound  in  gratitude  to  compel  thee. 

Ser.     Lisanderl     Yes,  I  am  sure  it  was  Lisander. 

Cal.     Lisander •?  'twas  Lisander. 

Cle.     'Tis  Lisander.     O  my  base  thoughts!  my  wicked! 
To  make  question  this  aft  could  be  another  mans: 
'Tis  Lisander ,  a  handsome  timber'd  man? 

Ser.     Yes.  (mourn'd  ? 

Cle.     My    Lisander]      Was    this    friends   absence    to    be 

Cal.     I  grant  it: 

I'le  mourn  his  going  now,  and  mourn  it  seriously : 
When  you  weep  for  him,  Sir,  I'le  bear  you  company. 
That  so  much  honour,  so  much  honesty 
Should  be  in  one  man,  to  do  things  thus  bravely, 
Make  me  his  Saint,  to  me  give  this  brave  service: 
What  may  I  do  to  recompence  his  goodness? 
I  cannot  tell. 

Cle.     Come  Sir,  I  know  you  are  sickly,  so  are  your  men. 

Dor.     I  must  confess  I  am  weak, 
And  fitter  for  a  bed  than  long  discourses. 

Cle.    You  shall  hear  to  morrow,  to  morrow  provide  Sur- 

Dor.     Lisander —  (geons. 

Cal.     What  new  fire  is  this?   Lisander —  [Exeunt. 

Attus  Secundus.     Scena  Prima. 

Enter  Lisander,  and  Lancelot. 

Lis.    T)Rethee  good  Lancelot  remember  that 

JL        Thy  Master's  life  is  in  thy  trust,  and  therefore 
Be  very  carefull. 

Lane.     I  will  lose  mine  own,  rather  than  hazard  yours. 

Lisa.     Take  what  disguise 
You  in  your  own  discretion  shall  think  fittest, 
To  keep  your  self  unknown. 

Lane.     I  warrant  ye; 


THE   LOVERS    PROGRESS    ACT  n 

'Tis  not  the  first  time  I  have  gone  invisible: 
I  am  as  fine  a  Fairie  in  a  business 
Concerning  night-work — 

Lisa.     Leave  your  vanities: 
With  this  purse  (which  delivered, 
You  may  spare  your  Oratory)  convey  this  Letter  to 
Calista's  woman. 

Lane.     'Tis  a  handsom  girle,  Mistris  Clarinda. 

Lisa.     I  have  made  her  mine.     You  know  your  work. 

Lan.     And  if  I  sweat  not  in  it, 
At  my  return  discard  me.  [Exit. 

Lisa.     O   Calista  \  the  fairest !  cruellest ! 

Enter  Clarange. 

Clar.     So  early  stirring?  a  good  day  to  you. 

Lisa.     I  was  viewing  Sir, 

The  site  of  your  house,  and  the  handsomness  about  it: 
Believe  me  it  stands  healthfully  and  sweetly. 

Clar.     The  house  and  Master  of  it  really 
Are  ever  at  your  service. 

Lisa.     I  return  it: 

Now  if  you  please  go  forward  in  your  storie 
Of  your  dear  friend  and  Mistris. 

Clar.     I  will  tell  it, 

And  tell  it  short,  because  'tis  breakfast  time, 
(And  love  is  a  tedious  thing  to  a  quick  stomach) 
You  eat  not  yester-night. 

Lisa.     I  shall  endure  Sir. 

Clara.     My  self  (and  as  I  then  deliver' d  to  you) 
A  Gentleman  of  noble  hope,  one  Lidian^ 
Both  brought  up  from  our  infancy  together, 
One  company,  one  friendship,  and  one  exercise 
Ever  afFedling,  one  bed  holding  us, 
One  grief,  and  one  joy  parted  still  between  us, 
More  than  companions,  twins  in  all  our  aftions, 
We  grew  up  till  we  were  men,  held  one  heart  still : 
Time  call'd  us  on  to  Arms,  we  were  one  Souldier, 
Alike  we  sought  our  dangers  and  our  honours, 
Gloried  alike  one  in  anothers  nobleness: 
When  Arms  had  made  us  fit,  we  were  one  lover, 

90 


Sc.  i       THE   LOVERS    PROGRESS 

We  lov'd  one  woman,  lov'd  without  division, 

And  woo'd  a  long  time  with  one  fair  affeftion; 

And  she,  as  it  appears,  loves  us  alike  too. 

At  length  considering  what  our  love  must  grow  to, 

And  covet  in  the  end,  this  one  was  parted, 

Rivals  and  honours  make  men  stand  at  distance. 

We  then  woo'd  with  advantage,  but  were  friends  still, 

Saluted  fairly,  kept  the  peace  of  love, 

We  could  not  both  enjoy  the  Ladies  favour, 

Without  some  scandal  to  her  reputation, 

We  put  it  to  her  choice,  this  was  her  sentence, 

To  part  both  from  her,  and  the  last  returning 

Should  be  her  Lord ;  we  obey'd,  and  now  you  know  it ; 

And  for  my  part,  (so  truely  I  am  touch'd  with't) 

I  will  go  far  enough,  and  be  the  last  too, 

Or  ne're  return. 

Lisa.     A  sentence  of  much  cruelty; 
But  mild,  compared  with  what's  pronounc'd  on  me. 
Our  loving  youth  is  born  to  many  miseries. 
What  is  that  Lidian  pray  ye?  (Lady. 

Clar.     Calista's  Brother,  if  ever  you  have  heard  of  that  fair 

Lisa.     I  have  seen  her  Sir. 

Clar.     Then  you  have  seen  a  wonder. 

Lisa.     I  do  confess:  of  what  years  is  this  Lidianl 

Clar.     About  my  years:  there  is  not  much  between  us. 

Lisa.     I  long  to  know  him. 

Clar.     'Tis  a  vertuous  longing, 
As  many  hopes  hang  on  his  noble  head, 
As  blossoms  on  a  bough  in  May^  and  sweet  ones. 

Lisa.     Ye  are  a  fair  storie  of  your  friend. 

Clar.     Of  truth  Sir:  now,  what's  the  matter? 

Enter  a  Servant. 

Serv.  There  is  a  Gentleman 

At  door,  would  speak  with  you  on  private  business. 

Clar.  With  me? 

Serv.  He  saies  so,  and  brings  haste  about  him. 

Clar.  Wait  on  him  in.  [Exit  Servant. 

Lisa.  I  will  retire  the  while,  to  the  next  room. 

Clar,  We  shall  not  long  disturb  you. 

91 


THE   LOVERS   PROGRESS    ACT  n 

Enter  Alcidon. 

Aid.     Save  ye,  Sir. 

Clara.     The  like  to  you,  fair  Sir:  pray  you  come  near. 

Aid.     Pray  you  instruct  me  for  I  know  you  not. 
With  Monsieur  Clarange  I  would  speak. 

Clar.     I  am  he,  Sir: 
Ye  are  nobly  welcome;  I  wait  your  business. 

Aid.     This  will  inform  you. 

Clar.     Will  you  please  to  sit  down?  [Reads. 

He  shall  command  me  Sir,  Pie  wait  upon  him 
Within  this  hour. 

Aid.     Y'are  a  noble  Gentleman, 
Wil't  please  you  bring  a  friend?  we  are  two  of  us, 
And  pity  either,  Sir,  should  be  unfurnish'd. 

Clar.     I  have  none  now,  and  the  time  is  set  so  short, 
'Twill  not  be  possible. 

Aid.     Do  me  the  honour: 
I  know  you  are  so  full  of  brave  acquaintance, 
And  worthy  friends,  you  cannot  want  a  partner: 
I  would  be  loth  to  stand  still,  Sir;  besides, 
You  know  the  custom,  and  the  vantage  of  it, 
If  you  come  in  alone. 

Clar.     And  I  must  meet  it. 

Aid.     Send,  we'l  defer  an  hour,  let  us  be  equal: 
Games  won  and  lost  on  equal  terms  shew  fairest. 

Clar.     'Tis  to  no  purpose  to  send  any  whither, 
Unless  men  be  at  home  by  Revelation: 
So  please  you  breath  a  while;  when  I  have  done  with  him, 
You  may  be  exercis'd  too:  Fie  trouble  no  man. 

Enter  Lisander. 

Lisa.  They  are  very  loud.     Now  what's  the  news? 

Clar.  I  must  leave  you, 

Leave  you  a  while,  two  hours  hence  Fie  return  friend. 

Lisa.  Why,  what's  the  matter? 

Clar.  A  little  business. 

Lisa.  And't  be  but  a  little,  you  may  take  me  with  ye. 

Clar.  'Twill  be  a  trouble  to  you. 

Lisa.  No  indeed,  to  do  you  service,  I  account  a  pleasure. 

Clar.  I  must  alone. 

92 


Sc.  i       THE   LOVERS    PROGRESS 

Lisa.     Why? 

Clar.     'Tis  necessity — 
Before  you  pass  the  walks,  and  back  again, 
I  will  be  with  ye. 

Lisa.     If  it  be  not  unmannerly 
To  press  you,  I  would  go. 

Clar.     I'le  tell  you  true,  Sir, 
This  Gentleman  and  I  upon  appointment, 
Are  going  to  visit  a  Lady. 

Lisa.     I  am  no  Capuchin,  why  should  not  I  go? 

Aid.     Take  the  Gentleman, 
Come  he  may  see  the  Gentlewoman  too, 
And  be  most  welcom,  I  do  beseech  you  take  him. 

Lis.     By  any  means,  I  love  to  see  a  Gentlewoman, 
A  prettie  wench  too. 

Clar.     Well,  Sir,  we'll  meet  you, 
And  at  the  place:  My  service  to  the  Lady. 

Aid.     I  kiss  your  hand.  [Exit. 

Clar.     Prethee  read  o're  her  Letter. 

Lisander  reads. 
Monsieur, 

I  Know  you  have  considered  the  dark  sentence  Olinda  gave  us, 
and  that  (however  she  disguised  it)  it  pointed  more  at  our 
swords  edges  than  our  bodies  banishments',  the  last  must  injoy  her: 
if  we  retire,  our  youths  are  lost  in  wandring;  in  emulation  we 
shall  grow  old  men,  and  feeble,  which  is  the  scorn  of  love,  and 
rust  of  honour,  and  so  return  more  fit  to  wed  our  Sepulchers,  than 
the  Saint  we  aim  at ;  let  us  therefore  make  our  journey  short,  and 
our  hearts  ready,  and  with  our  swords  in  our  hands  put  it  to  for 
tune,  which  shall  be  worthy  to  receive  that  blessing,  Pie  stay  you 
on  the  mountain,  our  old  hunting  place,  this  Gentleman  alone  runs 
the  hazard  with  me,  and  so  I  kiss  your  hand. 

Your  Servant  Lidian. 

Is  this  your  wench?  you'l  find  her  a  sharp  Mistris. 
What  have  I  thrust  my  self  into?  is  this  that  Lidian 
You  told  me  of? 

Clar.     The  same. 

Lisa.     My  Ladies  Brother? 

93 


THE   LOVERS    PROGRESS    ACT  n 

No  cause  to  heave  my  sword  against  but  his? 
To  save  the  Father  yesterday,  and  this  morning, 
To  help  to  kill  the  Son?  this  is  most  courteous! 
The  only  way  to  make  the  Daughter  doat  on  me. 

Clar.     Why  do  you  muse?  would  ye  go  off? 

Lisa.     No,  no,  I  must  on  now;  this  will  be  kindly  taken j 
No  life  to  sacrifice,  but  part  of  hers? 
Do  you  fight  straight? 

Clara.     Yes,  presently. 

Lisan.     To  morrow  then, 

The  balefull  tidings  of  this  day  will  break  out, 
And  this  nights  Sun  will  set  in  bloud;  I  am  troubled: 
If  I  am  kilPd,  I  am  happy. 

Clar.     Will  you  go  friend? 

Lis.    I  am  ready  Sir,  fortune  thou  hast  made  me  monstrous. 

[Exeunt. 

Enter  Malfort,  and  Clarinda. 

Malf.     Your  cousin,  and  my  true  friend,  lusty  Leon, 
Shall  know  how  you  use  me. 

Clar.     Be  more  temperate, 
Or  I  will  never  use,  nor  know  you  more 
I'th*  way  of  a  servant:  all  the  house  takes  notice 
Of  your  ridiculous  fopperie;  I  have  no  sooner 
Performed  my  duties  in  my  Ladies  chamber, 
And  she  scarce  down  the  stairs,  but  you  appear 
Like  my  evil  spirit  to  me.  (der 

Malf.    Can  the  fish  live  out  of  the  water,  or  the  Salaman- 
Out  of  the  fire?  or  I  live  warm,  but  in 
The  frying-pan  of  your  favour? 

Cla.     Pray  you  forget 
Your  curious  comparisons,  borrowed  from 
The  pond,  and  kitchin,  and  remember  what 
My  Ladies  pleasure  is  for  th'  entertainment 
Of  her  noble  Father. 

Ma.     I  would  learn  the  art  of  memory  in  your  table  book. 

Cla.     Very  good  sir,  no  more  but  up  and  ride,  I  apprehend 
Your  meaning,  soft  fire  makes  sweet  mault  Sir : 
I'le  answer  you  in  a  Proverb. 

Mai.     But  one  kiss  from  thy  hony  lip. 

94 


Sc.  i       THE   LOVERS   PROGRESS 

Cla.     You  fight  too  high,  my  hand  is 
A  fair  ascent  from  my  foot,  his  slavering  kisses 
Spoil  me  more  gloves, — enough  for  once,  you'l  surfeit 
With  too  much  grace. 

Mai.     Have  you  no  imployment  for  me? 

C\ld\.     Yes,  yes,  go  send  for  Leon,  and  convey  him 
Into  the  private  Arbour,  from  his  mouth 
I  hear  your  praises  with  more  faith. 

Ma.    I  am  gone ;  yet  one  thing  e're  I  go,  there's  at  the  door 
The  rarest  Fortune-teller,  he  hath  told  me 
The  strangest  things;  he  knows  ye  are  my  Mistris, 
And  under  seal  delivered  how  many  Children 
I  shall  beget  on  you,  pray  you  give  him  hearing, 
He'l  make  it  good  to  you. 

Cla.     A  cunning  man 

Of  your  own  making,  howsoe'r  I'le  hear  him 
At  your  intreaty. 

MaL     Now  I  perceive  ye  love  me, 
At  my  entreaty,  come  in  friend — remember 
To  speak  as  I  directed,  he  knows  his  lesson, 
And  the  right  way  to  please  her;  this  it  is 
To  have  a  head-piece.  [Exit. 

Enter  Lancelot,  like  a  Fortune-teller,  with  a  Purse, 
and  two  Letters  in  it. 

Cla.     'Tis  said  you  can  tell  fortunes  to  come. 

Lan.     Yes  Mistris  and  what's  past; 
Unglove  your  hand,  by  this  straight  line  I  see 
You  have  lain  crooked. 

Cla.     How?  lain  crooked? 

Lan.     Yes;  and  in  that  posture  plaid  at  the  old  game, 
(No  body  hears  me,  and  Fie  be  no  blab) 
And  at  it  lost  your  maiden-head. 

Cla.     A  shrewd  fellow; 
'Tis  truth,  but  not  to  be  confess'd;  in  this 
Your  palmistry  deceives  you,  something  else  Sir. 

Lan.     Ye  are  a  great  woman  with  your  Lady,  and 
Acquainted  with  her  counsels. 

Cla.     Still  more  strange. 

Lan.     There  is  a  noble  Knight  Lisander  loves  her, 

95 


THE   LOVERS    PROGRESS    ACT  11 

Whom  she  regards  not,  and  the  destinies 

With  whom  I  am  familiar,  have  delivered 

That  by  your  means  alone,  he  must  enjoy  her. 

Your  hand  again,  yes,  yes ;  you  have  already 

Promised  him  your  assistance,  and  what's  more, 

Tasted  his  bounty,  for  which,  from  the  skye 

There  are  200.  crowns  dropp'd  in  a  Purse, 

Look  back,  you'l  find  it  true;  nay,  open  it, 

'Tis  good  Gold  I  assure  you.  (to  my  Lady? 

Cla.     How,  two  Letters  ?   the  first  indors'd  to  me  ?   this 
Subscribed  Lisander  I 

Lan.     And  the  fortune-teller,  his  servant  Lancelot. 

Cla.     How  had  I  lost  my  eyes, 

That  I  could  not  know  thee?  not  a  word  of  the  loss 
Of  my  virginity. 

Lan.     Nor  who  I  am. 

Cla.     I'le  use  all  speedy  means  for  your  dispatch 
With  a  welcom  answer,  but  till  you  receive  it, 
Continue  thus  disguis'd,  Monsieur  Malfort 
(You  know  the  way  to  humour  him)  shall  provide 
A  lodging  for  you,  and  good  entertainment; 
Nay,  since  we  trade  both  one  way,  thou  shalt  have 
Some  feeling  with  me,  take  that.  (ment. 

Lan.     Bountifull  wench   may'st  thou  ne're  want  imploy- 

Cla.     Nor  such  pay  boy.  [Exeunt. 

Enter  Lidian,  Alcidon,  (at  one  door)  Lisander, 
Clarange,  (at  another.) 

Lid.     You're  welcom. 

Aid.     Let  us  do  our  office  first, 
And  then  make  choice  of  a  new  piece  of  ground 
To  try  our  fortunes. 

Lisa.     All's  fair  here. 

Aid.     And  here,  their  swords  are  equal. 

Lisa.     If  there  be  any  odds  in  mine,  we  will  exchange. 

Aid.     We'l  talk  of  that 
When  we  are  farther  off,  farewel. 

Lisa.     Farewel  friend.  [Ex.  Lisander,  and  Alcidon. 

Lidi.     Come  let  us  not  be  idle. 

Cla.     I  will  find  you  imployment,  fear  not. 

96 


Sc.  i       THE    LOVERS    PROGRESS 

Ltd.     You  know  Sir,  the  cause  that  brings  [u]s  hither. 

Cla.     There  needs  no  more  discoursing, 
No  time,  nor  place  for  repetition  now. 

Lid.     Let  our  swords  argue,  and  I  wish  Clarange, 
The  proud  Olinda  saw  us. 

Cla.     Would  she  did; 
What  ever  estimation  she  holds  of  me, 
She  should  behold  me  like  a  man  fight  for  her. 

Lid.     'Tis  nobly  said;  set  on  love;  and  my  fortune — 

Cla.     The  same  for  me,  come  home  brave  Lidian, 
'Twas  manly  thrust,  this  token  to  the  Lady, 
Ye  have  it  Sir,  deliver  it,  take  breath, 
I  see  ye  bleed  apace,  ye  shall  have  fair  play. 

Enter  Lisander. 

Lis.     You  must  lye  there  a  while,  I  cannot  help  you. 

Lid.     Nay,  then  my  fortune's  gone,  I  know  I  must  dye: 
Yet  dearly  will  I  sell  my  love,  come  on  both, 
And  use  your  fortunes,  I  expect  no  favour; 
Weak  as  I  am,  my  confidence  shall  meet  ye. 

Cla.     Yield  up  your  cause  and  live. 

Lid.     What  dost  thou  hold  me? 
A  recreant,  that  prefers  life  before  credit? 
Though  I  bleed  hard,  my  honour  finds  no  Issue, 
That's  constant  to  my  heart. 

Cla.     Have  at  your  life  then. 

Lis.     Hold,  or  Fie  turn,  and  bend  my  sword  against  ye; 
My  cause  Clarange  too,  view  this  brave  Gentleman, 
That  yet  may  live  to  kill  you,  he  stands  nobly, 
And  has  as  great  a  promise  of  the  day 
As  you  can  tye  unto  your  self,  he's  ready, 
His  sword  as  sharp,  view  him  with  that  remembrance, 
That  you  deliver' d  him  to  me  Clarange: 
And  with  those  eyes,  that  clearness  will  become  ye: 
View  him,  as  you  reported  him;  survey  him, 
Fix  on  your  friendship  Sir,  I  know  you  are  noble, 
And  step  but  inward  to  your  old  affeftion; 
Examine  but  that  soul  grew  to  your  bosom, 
And  try  then  if  your  sword  will  bite,  it  cannot, 
The  edge  will  turn  again,  asham'd,  and  blunted; 

B.-F.  v.  G  97 


THE   LOVERS   PROGRESS    ACT  n 

Lidiany  you  are  the  pattern  of  fair  friendship, 

Exampled  for  your  love,  and  imitated, 

The  Temple  of  true  hearts,  stor'd  with  affections, 

For  sweetness  of  your  spirit  made  a  Saint, 

Can  you  decline  this  nobleness  to  anger? 

To  mortal  anger?  'gainst  the  man  ye  love  most? 

Have  ye  the  name  of  vertuous,  not  the  nature? 

Lid.     I  will  sit  down. 

Clar.     And  Fie  sit  by  you,  Lidian.  (things? 

Lis.     And  Tie  go  on,  can  Heaven  be  pleas'd  with  these 
To  see  two  hearts  that  have  been  twin'd  together, 
Married  in  friendship  to  the  world,  to  wonder, 
Of  one  growth,  of  one  nourishment,  one  health, 
Thus  mortally  divorc'd  for  one  weak  woman? 
Can  love  be  pleas'd?  love  is  a  gentle  spirit, 
The  wind  that  blows  the  April  flowers,  not  softer ; 
She  is  drawn  with  doves  to  shew  her  peacefulness, 
Lions  and  bloody  Pards  are  Mart's  servants; 
Would  ye  serve  love?  do  it  with  humbleness, 
Without  a  noise,  with  still  prayers,  and  soft  murmurs; 
Upon  her  Altars  offer  your  obedience, 
And  not  your  brawls ;  she's  won  with  tears,  not  terrors : 
That  fire  ye  kindle  to  her  deity 
Is  only  gratefull  when  it's  blown  with  sighs, 
And  holy  Incense  flung  with  white  hand-innocence; 
Ye  wound  her  now;  ye  are  too  superstitious, 
No  sacrifice  of  bloud,  or  death  she  longs  for. 

Lid.     Came  he  from  Heaven? 

Clar.     He  tells  us  truth  good  Lidian. 

Lisa.     That  part  of  noble  love  which  is  most  sweet, 
And  gives  eternal  being  to  fair  beauty, 
Honour,  you  hack  i'  pieces  with  your  swords, 
And  that  ye  fight  to  crown,  ye  kill,  fair  credit. 

Clar.     Thus  we  embrace,  no  more  fight,  but  all  friendship, 
And  where  love  pleases  to  bestow  his  benefits, 
Let  us  not  argue. 

Lid.     Nay,  brave  Sir,  come  in  too; 
You  may  love  also,  and  may  hope,  if  ye  do, 
And  not  rewarded  for't,  there  is  no  justice; 
Farewel  friend,  here  let's  part  upon  our  pilgrimage, 


Sc.  i       THE   LOVERS   PROGRESS 

It  must  be  so,  Cupid  draws  on  our  sorrows. 
And  where  the  lot  lights — 

Clar.     I  shall  count  it  happiness, 
Farewel,  dear  friend. 

Lis.     First,  let's  relieve  the  Gentleman 
That  lyes  hurt  in  your  cause,  and  bring  him  off, 
And  take  some  care  for  your  hurts,  then  I  will  part  too, 
A  third  unfortunate,  and  willing  wanderer.  [Exeunt. 

Enter  Olinda,  and  Calista. 

Oli.     My  fears  foresaw  'twould  come  to  this. 

Cal.     I  would  your  sentence  had  been  milder. 

Olin.     'Tis  past  help  now. 

Cal.     I  share  in  your  despair,  and  yet  my  hopes 
Have  not  quite  left  me,  since  all  possible  means 
Are  practised  to  prevent  the  mischief  following 
Their  mortal  meeting,  my  Lord  is  coasted  one  way, 
My  Father,  though  his  hurts  forbad  his  travel, 
Hath  took  another,  my  Brother  in  Law  Beronte 
A  third,  and  every  minute  we  must  look  for 
The  certain  knowledge,  which  we  must  endure 
With  that  calm  patience  heav'n  shall  please  to  lend  us. 

Enter  Dorilaus,  and  Oleander,  severally. 

Dor.     Dead  both? 

Clea.     Such  is  the  rumour,  and  'tis  general. 

Olin.     I  hear  my  passing  bell. 

Cal.     I  am  in  a  fevour. 

Cle.     They  say  their  seconds  too;  but  what  they  are, 
Is  not  known  yet,  some  worthy  fellows  certain. 

Dor.     Where  had  you  knowledge? 

Clea.     Of  the  Country  people,  'tis  spoken  every  where. 

Dor.     I  heard  it  so  too; 
And  'tis  so  common,  I  do  half  believe  it, 
You  have  lost  a  Brother,  wench,  he  lov'd  you  well, 
And  might  have  liv'd  to  have  done  his  country  service, 
But  he  is  gone,  thou  fell'st  untimely,  Lidian, 
But  by  a  valiant  hand,  that's  some  small  comfort, 
And  took  him  with  thee  too,  thou  lov'st  brave  company, 
Weeping  will  do  no  good,  you  lost  a  servant, 

G2  99 


THE   LOVERS   PROGRESS    ACT  n 

He  might  have  liv'd  to  have  been  your  Master,  Lady, 
But  you  fear'd  that. 

0/in.     Good  Sir,  be  tender  to  me, 
The  news  is  bad  enough,  you  need  not  press  it, 
I  lovM  him  well,  I  lov'd  'em  both. 

Dor.     It  seems  so. 

How  many  more  have  you  to  love  so  Lady? 
They  were  both  fools  to  fight  for  such  a  Fiddle; 
Certain  there  was  a  dearth  of  noble  anger, 
When  a  slight  woman  was  thought  worth  a  quarrel. 

Olin.     Pray  you  think  nobler. 

Dor.     Tie  tell  thee  what  I  think,  the  plague,  war,  famine, 
Nay  put  in  dice  and  drunkenness  (and  those 
You'l  grant  are  pretty  helps)  kill  not  so  many 
(I  mean  so  many  noble)  as  your  loves  do, 
Rather  your  lewdness,  I  crave  your  mercy,  women, 
Be  not  offended  if  I  anger  ye. 

I  am  sure  ye  have  touch'd  me  deep,  I  came  to  be  merry, 
And  with  my  children,  but  to  see  one  ruin'd 
By  this  fell  accident — are  they  all  dead? 
If  they  be,  speak? 

Clean.     What  news? 

Enter  Beronte,  Alcidon,  Clarinda,  following 
with  a  Letter. 

Ber.     What,  dead?  ye  pose  me; 
I  understand  you  not. 

Clea.     My  Brother  Lidian,  Clarange,  and  their  seconds. 

Ber.     Here  is  one  of  'em,  and  sure  this  Gentleman's  alive. 

Aid.     I  hope  so,  so  is  your  Son,  Sir,  so  is  brave  Clarange'. 
They  fought  indeed,  and  they  were  hurt  sufficiently; 
We  were  all  hurt,  that  bred  the  general  rumour, 
But  friends  again  all,  and  like  friends  we  parted. 

Clea.     Heard  ye  of  Lisanderl 

Ber.     Yes,  and  miss'd  him  narrowly: 

He  was  one  of  the  combatants,  fought  with  this  Gentleman, 
Second  against  your  Brother,  by  his  wisdom 
(For  certainly  good  fortune  follows  him) 
All  was  made  peace,  Tie  tell  you  the  rest  at  dinner, 
For  we  are  hungry. 

100 


Sc.  i       THE   LOVERS   PROGRESS 

Aid.     I  before  I  eat 

Must  pay  a  vow  I  am  sworn  to;  my  life,  Madam, 
Was  at  Lisander's  mercy,  I  live  by  it; 
And  for  the  noble  favour,  he  desir'd  me 
To  kiss  your  fair  hand  for  him,  offering 
This  second  service  as  a  Sacrifice 
At  the  Altar  of  your  vertues. 

Dor.     Come  joy  on  all  sides; 
Heaven  will  not  suffer  honest  men  to  perish. 

Clea.     Be  proud  of  such  a  friend. 

Dor.     Forgive  me,  Madam, 
It  was  a  grief  might  have  concern'd  you  near  too. 

Clea.     No  work  of  excellence  but  still  Lisander^ 
Go  thy  waies,  Worthy. 

Olin.     We'l  be  merry  too, 
Were  I  to  speak  again,  I  would  be  wiser. 

[Ex.  Manent  Cal.  Clarin. 

Cal.     Too  much  of  this  rare  cordial  makes  me  sick, 
However  I  obey  you. 

Clarin.    Now  or  never  is  an  apt  time  to  move  her,  Madam. 

Cal.     Who's  that? 

Clarin.    Your  servant,  I  would  speak  with  your  Ladyship. 

C[W].     Why  dost  thou  look  about? 

Clarin.     I  have  private  business 
That  none  must  hear  but  your  Lisander — 

Cal.     Where? 

Clar.     Nay,  is  not  here,  but  would  entreat  this  favour, 
Some  of  your  Balsam  from  your  own  hand  given, 
For  he  is  much  hurt,  and  that  he  thinks  would  cure  him. 

Cal.     He  shall  have  all,  my  Prayers  too. 

Clar.     But  conceive  me, 
It  must  be  from  your  self  immediately, 
Pity  so  brave  a  Gentleman  should  perish, 
He  is  superstitious,  and  he  holds  your  hand 
Of  infinite  power;  I  would  not  urge  this,  Madam, 
But  only  in  a  mans  extreams  to  help  him.  (happy  in't, 

Cal.     Let  him  come  (good  wench)  'tis  that  I  wish,  I  am 
My  husband  his  true  friend,  my  noble  father, 
The  fair  Olinday  all  desire  to  see  him; 
He  shall  have  many  hands. 

101 


THE   LOVERS   PROGRESS    ACT  in 

Clar.     That  he  desires  not, 
Nor  eyes  but  yours,  to  look  upon  his  miseries, 
For  then  he  thinks  'twould  be  no  perfect  cure,  Madam, 
He  would  come  private. 

Cal.     How  can  that  be  here? 
I  shall  do  wrong  unto  all  those  that  honour  him, 
Besides  my  credit. 

Clar.     Dare  ye  not  trust  a  hurt  man? 
Not  strain  a  courtesie  to  save  a  Gentleman? 
To  save  his  life  that  has  sav'd  all  your  family? 
A  man  that  comes  like  a  poor  mortifi'd  Pilgrim, 
Only  to  beg  a  Blessing  and  depart  again? 
He  would  but  see  you,  that  he  thinks  would  cure  him. 
But  since  you  find  fit  reasons  to  the  contrary, 
And  that  it  cannot  stand  with  your  clear  honour, 
Though  you  best  know  how  well  he  has  deserv'd  of  ye: 
1*11  send  him  word  back  though  I  grieve  to  do  it, 
Grieve  at  my  soul,  for  certainly  'twill  kill  him, 
What  your  will  is. 

Cal.     Stay,  I  will  think  upon't;  where  is  he,  Wench? 

Clar.     If  you  desire  to  see  him, 
Let  not  that  trouble  you,  he  shall  be  with  you, 
And  in  that  time  that  no  man  shall  suspect  ye; 
Your  honour,  Madam,  is  in  your  own  free  keeping; 
Your  care  in  me;  in  him  all  honesty; 
If  ye  desire  him  not,  let  him  pass  by  ye, 
And  all  this  business  reckon  but  a  dream. 

C[a~\L     Go  in,  and  counsel  me,  I  would  fain  see  him, 
And  willingly  comfort  him. 

Clar.     'Tis  in  your  power; 

And  if  you  dare  trust  me,  you  shall  do  it  safely, 
Read  that,  and  let  that  tell  you,  how  he  honours  you. 

[Exeunt. 

Aftus  T'ertius.    Scena  Prima. 

Enter  Clarinda  with  a  Key,  and  Leon. 

Leon.   r  I  ^  His  happy  Night.  [Kisses  her. 

JL        Clar.     Preserve  this  eagerness 
Till  we  meet  nearer,  there  is  something  done 

102 


Sc.  i       THE   LOVERS   PROGRESS 

Will  give  us  opportunity. 

Leon.     Witty  Girl,  the  plot? 

Clar.     You  shall  hear  that  at  leisure, 
The  whole  house  reels  with  joy  at  the  report 
Of  Lidians  safety,  and  that  joy  encreas'd 
From  their  affeftion  to  the  brave  Lisander, 
In  being  made  the  happy  instrument  to  compound 
The  bloudy  difference. 

Leon.     They  will  hear  shortly  that 
Will  turn  their  mirth  to  mourning,  he  was  then 
The  principal  means  to  save  two  lives,  but  since 
There  are  two  fain,  and  by  his  single  hand, 
For  which  his  life  must  answer,  if  the  King, 
Whose  arm  is  long,  can  reach  him.  (this  Key, 

Clar.     We  have  now  no  spare  time  to  hear  stories,  take 
'Twill  make  your  passage  to  the  banquetting  house 
I'th'  Garden  free. 

Leon.     You  will  not  fail  to  come? 

Clar.    For  mine  own  sake  ne'r  doubt  it ;  now  for  Lisander. 

[Exit. 

Enter  Dorilaus,  Oleander,  Servants  with  lights. 

Dor.     To  bed,  to  bed,  'tis  very  late. 

Clean.     To  bed  all,  I  have  drunk  a  health  too  much. 

Dor.     You'll  sleep  the  better, 
My  usual  physick  that  way. 

Clean.     Where's  your  Mistriss? 

Clar.     She  is  above,  but  very  ill,  and  aguish; 
The  late  fright  of  her  Brother  has  much  troubl'd  her: 
She  would  entreat  to  lye  alone. 

Clean.     Her  pleasure.  (health, 

Dor.     Commend  my  love  to  her,  and  my  Prayers  for  her 
I'll  see  her  ere  I  go.  [Exeunt-,  manet  Clarinda. 

Clar.     All  good  rest  to  ye; 

Now  to  my  watch  for  Lisander^  when  he  is  furnish'd, 
For  mine  own  friend,  since  I  stand  Centinel, 
I  love  to  laugh  i'th'  evenings  too,  and  may, 
The  priviledg  of  my  place  will  warrant  it.  [Exit. 


103 


THE   LOVERS    PROGRESS    ACT  m 

Enter  Lisander,  and  Lancelot. 

Lis.     You  have  done  well  hitherto ;  where  are  we  now  ? 

Lane.     Not  far  from  the  house,  I  hear  by  th'  Owls, 
There  are  many  of  your  Welch  falkoners  about  it; 
Here  were  a  night  to  chuse  to  run  away  with 
Another  mans  Wife,  and  do  the  feat. 

Lis.     Peace  Knave, 

The  house  is  here  before  us,  and  some  may  hear  us; 
The  Candles  are  all  out. 

Lane.     But  one  i'th'  Parlour, 
I  see  it  simper  hither,  pray  come  this  way. 

Lis.     Step  to  the  Garden-door,  and  feel  and't  be  open. 

Lan.     I  am  going,  luck  deliver  me  from  the  saw-pits, 
Or  I  am  buried  quick;  I  hear  a  Dog, 
No,  'tis  a  Cricket,  ha?  here's  a  Cuckold  buried, 
Take  heed  of  his  horns,  Sir,  here's  the  door,  'tis  open. 

[Clarinda  at  the  door. 

Clar.     Who's  there? 

Lis.     Friend. 

Clar.     Sir,  Lisanderl 

Lis.     I. 

Clar.     Ye  are  welcome,  follow  me,  and  make  no  noise. 

Lis.    Go  to  your  horse,  and  keep  your  watch  with  care, 
And  be  sure  ye  sleep  not.  (Sirrah, 

[Exeunt  Lisander,  Clarinda. 

Lan.     Send  me  out  the  Dairy-maid 
To  play  at  trump  with  me,  and  keep  me  waking, 
My  fellow  horse  and  I  must  now  discourse 
Like  two  learned  Almanack-Makers,  of  the  Stars, 
And  tell  what  a  plentiful  year  'twill  prove  of  Drunkards. 
If  I  had  but  a  pottle  of  Sack,  like  a  sharp  prickle, 
To  knock  my  Nose  against  when  I  am  nodding, 
I  should  sing  like  a  Nightingale,  but  I  must 
Keep  watch  without  it,  I  am  apt  to  dance, 
Good  fortune  guide  me  from  the  Faries  Circles.  [Exit'. 

Enter  Clarinda  with  a  Taper ,  and  Lisander  with  a  Pistol, 

two  Chairs  set  out. 

Clar.     Come  near,  [Calista  sitting  behind  a  Curtain. 

I'll  leave  ye  now,  draw  but  that  Curtain, 

104 


Sc.  i       THE   LOVERS    PROGRESS 

And  have  your  wish ;  now,  Leon,  I  am  for  thee ; 

We  that  are  servants  must  make  use  of  stoln  hours, 

And  be  glad  of  snatch'd  occasions.  [Exit. 

Lis.     She  is  asleep, 

Fierce  Love  hath  clos'd  his  lights,  I  may  look  on  her, 
Within  her  eyes  'has  lockt  the  graces  up, 
I  may  behold  and  live;  how  sweet  she  breaths! 
The  orient  morning  breaking  out  in  odours 
Is  not  so  full  of  perfumes,  as  her  breath  is; 
She  is  the  abstract  of  all  Excellence,  and  scorns  a  Parallel. 

Gal     Who's  there? 

Lis.    Your  servant,  your  most  obedient  slave  (adored  Lady) 
That  comes  but  to  behold  those  eyes  again, 
And  pay  some  Vows  I  have  to  sacred  Beauty, 
And  so  pass  by;  I  am  blind  as  ignorance, 
And  know  not  where  I  wander,  how  I  live, 
Till  I  receive  from  their  bright  influence 
Light  to  direcl:  me,  for  Devotions  sake, 
You  are  the  Saint  I  tread  these  holy  steps  to, 
And  holy  Saints  are  all  relenting  sweetness, 
Be  not  enrag'd,  nor  be  not  angry  with  me; 
The  greatest  attribute  of  Heaven  is  mercy; 
And  'tis  the  Crown  of  Justice,  and  the  glory 
Where  it  may  kill  with  right,  to  save  with  pity. 

CaL     Why  do  you  kneel  ?  I  know  you  come  to  mock  me, 
T'upbraid  me  with  the  benefits  you  have  giv'n  me, 
Which  are  too  many,  and  too  mighty,  Sir, 
For  my  return ;  and  I  confess  'tis  justice, 
That  for  my  cruelty  you  should  despise  me, 
And  I  expect  however  you  are  calm  now, 
A  foyl  you  strive  to  set  your  cause  upon, 
It  will  break  out;   Calista  is  unworthy, 
Coy,  proud,  disdainful,  I  acknowledge  all, 
Colder  of  Comfort  than  the  frozen  North  is, 
And  more  a  stranger  to  Lisanders  worth, 
His  youth  and  faith,  than  it  becomes  her  gratitude, 
I  blush  to  grant  it,  yet  take  this  along, 
A  soveraign  medicine  to  allay  displeasure, 
May  be  an  argument  to  bring  me  off  too; 
She  is  married,  and  she  is  chaste ;  how  sweet  that  sounds  ! 

105 


THE   LOVERS    PROGRESS    ACT  m 

How  it  perfumes  all  air  'tis  spoken  in  ! 

0  dear  Lisander  \  would  you  break  this  union  ? 
Lis.     No,  I  adore  it;  let  me  kiss  your  hand, 

And  seal  the  fair  faith  of  a  Gentleman  on  it. 

Cat.     You  are  truly  valiant,  would  it  not  afflict  ye 
To  have  the  horrid  name  of  Coward  touch  you? 
Such  is  the  Whore  to  me. 

Lis.     I  nobly  thank  ye; 

And  may  I  be  the  same  when  I  dishonour  ye; 
This  I  may  do  again.  [Kissing  her  hand. 

Cal.     Ye  may,  and  worthily; 
Such  comforts  Maids  may  grant  with  modesty, 
And  neither  make  her  poor  nor  wrong  her  bounty; 
Noble  Lisander^  how  fond  now  am  I  of  ye  ! 

1  heard  you  were  hurt. 

Lis.     You  dare  not  heal  me,  Lady? 
I  am  hurt  here ;  how  sweetly  now  she  blushes ! 
Excellent  Objecls  kill  our  sight,  she  blinds  me; 
The  Roses  in  the  pride  of  May  shew  pale  to  her; 
O  Tyrant,  Custom!  and  O  Coward,  Honour! 
How  ye  compel  me  to  put  on  mine  own  Chains! 
May  I  not  kiss  ye  now  in  superstition? 
For  you  appear  a  thing  that  I  would  kneel  to; 
Let  me  err  that  way.  [Kisses  her. 

Cal.     Ye  shall  err  for  once,  I  have  a  kind  of  noble  pity  on 
Among  your  manly  sufferings,  make  this  most,  (you> 

To  err  no  farther  in  desire,  for  then,  Sir, 
You  add  unto  the  gratitudes  I  owe  you; 
And  after  death,  your  dear  friends  soul  shall  bless  you. 

Lis.     I  am  wondrous  honest. 

Cal.     I  dare  try.  [Kisses. 

Lis.    I  have  tasted  a  blessedness  too  great  for  dull  mortality, 
Once  more,  and  let  me  dye. 

Cal.     I  dare  not  murther, 

How  will  maids  curse  me  if  I  kill  with  kisses! 
And  young  men  flye  th'  embraces  of  fair  Virgins? 
Come,  pray  sit  down,  but  let's  talk  temperately. 

Lis.     Is  my  dear  friend  abed? 

Cal.     Yes,  and  asleep; 
Secure  asleep,  'tis  midnight  too,  Lisander^ 

1 06 


Sc.  i       THE   LOVERS    PROGRESS 

Speak  not  so  loud. 

Lis.     You  see  I  am  a  Statue, 
I  could  not  stand  else  as  I  had  eaten  Ice, 
Or  took  into  my  bloud  a  drowzie  Poyson, 
And  Natures  noblest,  brightest  flame  burns  in  me; 
Midnight?  and  I  stand  quietly  to  behold  it  so? 
The  Alarm  rung,  and  I  sleep  like  a  Coward? 
I  am  worn  away,  my  faith,  my  dull  obedience 
Like  Crutches,  carry  my  decayed  Body 
Down  to  the  Grave,  I  have  no  youth  within  me, 
Yet  happily  you  love  too. 

Cal.     Love  with  honour. 

Lis.     Honour?  what's  that?  'tis  but  a  specious  title 
We  should  not  prize  too  high. 

Cal.     Dearer  than  life. 

Lis.     The  value  of  it  is  as  time  hath  made  it, 
And  time  and  custome  have  too  far  insulted, 
We  are  no  gods,  to  be  always  tyed  to  strictness, 
'Tis  a  presumption  to  shew  too  like  'em; 
March  but  an  hour  or  two  under  Loves  Ensigns, 
We  have  Examples  of  great  memories — 

Cal.     But  foul  ones  too,  that  greatness  cannot  cover, 
That  Wife  that  by  Example  sins,  sins  double, 
And  pulls  the  Curtain  open  to  her  shame  too; 
Methinks  to  enjoy  you  thus — 

Lis.     'Tis  no  joy,  Lady, 

A  longing  Bride  if  she  stop  here,  would  cry, 
The  Bridegroom  too,  and  with  just  cause  curse  Hymen ; 
But  yield  a  little,  be  one  hour  a  Woman, 
(I  do  not  speak  this  to  compel  you,  Lady) 
And  give  your  Will  but  motion,  let  it  stir 
But  in  the  taste  of  that  weak  fears  call  evil, 
Try  it  to  understand  it,  we'll  do  nothing, 
You'll  ne'r  come  to  know  pure  good  else. 

Cal.     Fie,  Sir. 

Lis.     I  have  found  a  way,  let's  slip  into  this  errour 
As  Innocents,  that  know  not  what  we  did; 
As  we  were  dreaming  both,  let  us  embrace; 
The  sin  is  none  of  ours  then,  but  our  fancies; 
What  have  I  said?  what  blasphemy  to  honour? 

107 


THE   LOVERS    PROGRESS    ACT  m 

O  my  base  thoughts!  pray  ye  take  this  and  shoot  me. 

My  Villain  thoughts  !  [Noise  within. 

Cal.     I  weep  your  miseries,  and  would  to  heaven — what 
Lis.     It  comes  on  louder.  (noise? 

Kill  me,  and  save  your  self;  save  your  fair  honour, 

And  lay  the  fault  on  me,  let  my  life  perish, 

My  base  lascivious  life,  shoot  quickly,  Lady. 

Cal.     Not  for  the  World,  retire  behind  the  hangings, 

And  there  stand  close — my  husband,  close,  Lisander. 

Enter  Cleander  with  a   Taper. 

Clean.     Dearest,  are  you  well? 

Cal.     O  my  sad  heart,  my  head,  my  head. 

Clean.     Alas,  poor  soul !  what  do  you  do  out  of  your  bed  ? 
You  take  cold,  my  Calista;  how  do  ye? 

Cal.     Not  so  well,  Sir,  to  lie  by  ye,  my  Brothers  fright — 

Clean.     I  had  a  frightful  dream  too, 
A  very  frightful  dream,  my  best  Ca/ista; 
Methought  there  came  a  Dragon  to  your  Chamber, 
A  furious  Dragon  (Wife)  I  yet  shake  at  it; 
Are  all  things  well? 

Lis.     Shall  I  shoot  him? 

Cal.     No,  all  well,  Sir, 

'Twas  but  your  care  of  me,  your  loving  care, 
Which  always  watches. 

Clean.     And  methought  he  came 
As  if  he  had  risen  thus  out  of  his  Den, 
As  I  do  from  these  Hangings. 

Lis.     Dead. 

Cal.     Hold,  good  Sir. 

Clean.     And  forc'd  ye  in  his  arms  thus. 

Cal.     'Twas  but  fancy 

That  troubled  ye,  here's  nothing  to  disturb  me, 
Good  Sir,  to  rest  again,  and  I  am  now  drowzie, 
And  will  to  bed;  make  no  noise,  dear  Husband, 
But  let  me  sleep;  before  you  can  call  any  body,  I  am  abed. 

Clean.     This,  and  sweet  rest  dwell  with  ye.  [Exit. 

Cal.     Come  out  again,  and  as  you  love,  Lisander, 
Make  haste  away,  you  see  his  mind  is  troubled; 
Do  you  know  the  door  ye  came  in  at? 

108 


Sc.  i       THE   LOVERS    PROGRESS 

Lis.     Well,  sweet  Lady. 

Cal.     And  can  ye  hit  it  readily? 

Lis.     I  warrant  ye; 

And  must  I  go?    Must  here  end  all  my  happiness? 
Here  in  a  dream,  as  if  it  had  no  substance? 

Cal.     For  this  time,  friend,  or  here  begin  our  ruins; 
We  are  both  miserable. 

Lis.     This  is  some  comfort 
In  my  afflictions;  they  are  so  full  already, 
They  can  find  no  encrease. 

Cal.     Dear,  speak  no  more. 

Lis.     You  must  be  silent  then. 

Cal.     Farewel,  Lisander,  thou  joy  of  man,  farewel. 

Lis.     Farewel,  bright  Lady, 
Honour  of  woman-kind,  a  heavenly  blessing. 

Cal.     Be  ever  honest. 

Lis.     I  will  be  a  dog  else; 

The  vertues  of  your  mind  I'll  make  my  Library, 
In  which  I'll  study  the  celestial  beauty; 
Your  Constancy,  my  Armour  that  I'll  fight  in; 
And  on  my  Sword  your  Chastity  shall  sit, 
Terrour  to  rebel  bloud. 

Cal.     Once  more,  farewel ;  [Noise  within. 

0  that   my   modesty   cou'd   hold   you  still,    Sir — he    comes 
Lis.     Heaven  keep  my  hand  from  murther,  (again. 

Murther  of  him  I  love. 

Cal.     Away,  dear  friend, 

Down  to  the  Garden  stairs,  that  way,  Lisander, 
We  are  betray'd  else. 

Enter  Cleander. 

Lis.     Honour  guard  the  innocent.  [Exit  Lisander. 

Clean.     Still  up?     I  fear'd  your  health. 
Cal.     'Has  miss'd  him  happily; 

1  am  going  now,  I  have  done  my  meditations, 
My  heart's  almost  at  peace. 

Clean.     To  my  warm  Bed  then. 

Cal.     I  will,  pray  ye  lead.  [A  Pistol  shot  within. 

Clean.     A  Pistol  shot  i'th'  house? 
At  these  hours?  sure  some  thief,  some  murtherer; 

109 


THE   LOVERS   PROGRESS    ACT  in 

Rise,  ho!  rise  all,  I  am  betray'd. 
Gal     O  Fortune! 

0  giddy  thing !  he  has  met  some  opposition, 
And  killM;  I  am  confounded,  lost  for  ever. 

Enter  Dorilaus. 

Dor.     Now,  what's  the  matter? 

Clean.     Thieves,  my  noble  Father,  Villains  and  Rogues. 

Dor.     Indeed!  I  heard  a  Pistol,  let's  search  about. 

Enter  Malfort,  Clarinda,  and  Servants. 

Mai.     To  bed  again,  they  are  gone,  Sir, 

1  will  not  bid  you  thank  my  valour  for't; 
Gone  at  the  Garden  door;  there  were  a  dozen, 
And  bravely  arm'd,  I  saw  'em. 

Clar.     I  am  glad,  glad  at  the  heart. 

Serv.     One  shot  at  me,  and  miss'd  me. 

Mai.     No,  'twas  at  me,  the  Bullet  flew  close  by  me, 
Close  by  my  ear ;  another  had  a  huge  Sword, 
Flourish'd  it  thus;  but  at  the  point  I  met  him, 
But  the  Rogue  taking  me  to  be  your  Lordship, 
(As  sure  your  Name  is  terrible,  and  we 
Not  much  unlike  in  the  dark)  roar'd  out  aloud, 
'Tis  the  kill-Crow,  Dorilaus^  and  away 
They  ran  as  they  had  flown;  now  you  must  love  me, 
Or  fear  me  for  my  Courage,  Wench. 

Clar.     O  Rogue! 

O  lying  Rogue,  Lisander  stumbled,  Madam, 
At  the  Stairs-head,  and  in  the  fall  the  shot  went  off; 
Was  gone  before  they  rose. 

Cal.     I  thank  Heaven  for't. 

Clar.     I  was  frighted  too,  it  spoil'd  my  game  with  Leon. 

Cle.    You  must  sit  up ;  and  they  had  come  to  your  Chamber 
What  pranks  would  they  have  plaid !  how  came  the  door  open  ? 

Ma.     I  heard  'em  when  they  forc'd  it;  up  I  rose, 
Took  Durindana  in  my  hand;  and  like 
Orlando,  issu'd  forth. 

Clar.     I  know  you  are  valiant. 

Clean.     To  bed  again, 
And  be  you  henceforth  provident,  at  sun-rising 

no 


Sc.  i       THE   LOVERS    PROGRESS 

We  must  part  for  a  while. 

Dor.     When  you  are  a  bed, 

Take  leave  of  her,  there  'twill  be  worth  the  taking; 
Here  'tis  but  a  cold  Ceremony,  ere  long 
We'll  find  Lisander,  or  we  have  ill-fortune. 

Clean.     Lock  all  the  doors  fast. 

Mai.     Though  they  all  stood  open, 
My  name  writ  on  the  door,  they  dare  not  enter.      [Exeunt. 

Enter  Clarange,  Fryar  with  a  letter. 

Clar.     Turn'd  Hermit? 

Fry.     Yes,  and  a  devout  one  too;  I  heard  him  preach. 

Clar.     That  lessens  my  belief, 
For  though  I  grant  my  Lidian  a  Scholar, 
As  far  as  fits  a  Gentleman,  he  hath  studied 
Humanity,  and  in  that  he  is  a  Master; 
Civility  of  manners,  Courtship,  Arms; 
But  never  aim'd  at  (as  I  could  perceive) 
The  deep  points  of  Divinity. 

Fry.     That  confirms  his 
Devotion  to  be  real,  no  way  tainted 
With  ostentation,  or  hyp[ocr]isie, 
The  cankers  of  Religion;  his  Sermon 
So  full  of  gravity,  and  with  such  sweetness 
Deliver' d,  that  it  drew  the  admiration 
Of  all  the  hearers  on  him;  his  own  Letters 
To  you,  which  witness  he  will  leave  the  World, 
And  these  to  fair  Oltnda,  his  late  Mistriss, 
In  which  he  hath  with  all  the  moving  language 
That  ever  express'd  Rhetorick,  solicited 
The  Lady  to  forget  him,  and  make  you 
Blessed  in  her  embraces,  may  remove 
All  scrupulous  doubts. 

Clar.     It  strikes  a  sadness  in  me. 
I  know  not  what  to  think  of  't. 

Fry.     Ere  he  entred 
His  solitary  Cell,  he  pen'd  a  Ditty, 
His  long,  and  last  farewel  to  Love  and  Women, 
So  feelingly,  that  I  confess  however 
It  stands  not  with  my  order  to  be  taken 

in 


THE   LOVERS    PROGRESS    ACT  m 

With  such  poetical  Raptures;  I  was  mov'd, 
And  strangely  with  it. 

Clar.     Have  you  the  Copy? 

Fry.     Yes,  Sir; 

My  Novice  too  can  sing  it,  if  you  please 
To  give  him  hearing. 

Clar.     And  it  will  come  timely, 
For  I  am  full  of  melancholy  thoughts, 
Against  which  I  have  heard  with  reason  Musick 
To  be  the  speediest  cure,  'pray  you  apply  it. 

A  Song  by  the  Novice. 

ADieu  fond  love,  farewel  you  wanton  powers, 
I  am  free  a gain ; 
Thou  dull  Disease  of  bloud,  and  idle  hours ; 

Bewitching  pain, 

Flye  to  the  Fools  that  sigh  away  their  time, 
My  nobler  love  to  Heaven  doth  climb, 
And  there  behold  Beauty  still  young. 

That  Time  can  nir  corrupt,  nor  Death  destroy, 
Immortal  sweetness  by  fair  Angels  sung, 
And  honoured  by  Eternity  and  Joy: 
There  lives  my  love,  thither  my  hopes  aspire, 
Fond  love  declines,  this  heavenly  [love']  grows  higher. 

Fri.     How  do  ye  approve  it? 

Claran.     To  its  due  desert, 
It  is  a  Heavenly  Hymn,  no  ditty  Father, 
It  passes  through  my  ears  unto  my  soul, 
And  works  divinely  on  it;  give  me  leave 
A  little  to  consider;  shall  I  be 
Outdone  in  all  things?  nor  good  of  my  self, 
Nor  by  example?  shall  my  loose  hope  still, 
The  viands  of  a  fond  affection,  feed  me 
As  I  were  a  sensual  beast?  spiritual  food 
Refus'd  by  my  sick  palat?  'tis  resolv'd. 
How  far  off  Father,  doth  this  new  made  Hermit 
Make  his  abode? 

Fri.     Some  two  dayes  journey  Son. 

Clar.     Having  reveal'd  my  fair  intentions  to  ye, 

112 


Sc.  i       THE   LOVERS    PROGRESS 

I  hope  your  piety  will  not  deny  me 
Your  aids  to  further  'em  ? 

Frt.     That  were  against  a  good  mans  charity. 

Clar.     My  first  request  is, 

You  would  some  time,  for  reasons  I  will  shew  you, 
Defer  delivery  of  Lidlam  Letters 
To  fair  Olinda. 

FrL     Well  Sir. 

Clar.     For  what  follows, 
You  shall  direct  me;  something  I  will  do, 
A  new  born  zeal,  and  friendship  prompts  me  to.  [Ex. 

Enter  Dorilaus,  Oleander,  Chamberlain,   Table^ 
Tapers^  and  three  stools. 

Clea.     We  have  supp'd  well  friend ;  let  our  beds  be  ready, 
We  must  be  stirring  early. 

Cham.     They  are  made  Sir. 

Dor.     I  cannot  sleep  yet,  where's  the  jovial  host 
You  told  me  of?  'thas  been  my  custom  ever 
To  parley  with  mine  host. 

Clea.     He's  a  good  fellow, 

And  such  a  one  I  know  you  love  to  laugh  with; 
Go  call  your  Master  up. 

Cham.     He  cannot  come  Sir. 

Dor.     Is  he  a  bed  with  his  wife? 

Cham.     No  certainly. 

Dor.     Or  with  some  other  guests? 

Cham.     Neither  and't  like  ye. 

Clea.    Why  then  he  shall  come  by  your  leave  my  friend, 
I'le  fetch  him  up  my  self. 

Cham.     Indeed  you'l  fail  Sir. 

Dor.     Is  he  i'th'  house? 

Cham.     No,  but  he  is  hard  by  Sir; 
He  is  fast  in's  grave,  he  has  been  dead  these  three  weeks. 

Dor.     Then  o'  my  conscience  he  will  come  but   lamely, 
And  discourse  worse. 

Clean.     Farewel  mine  honest  Host  then, 
Mine  honest  merry  Host;  will  you  to  bed  yet? 

Dor.     No,  not  this  hour,  I  prethee  sit  and  chat  by  me. 
B.-F.  v.  H  113 


THE   LOVERS    PROGRESS    ACT  in 

Clean.     Give  us  a  quart  of  wine  then,  we'l  be  merry. 

Dor.     A  match  my  Son;  pray  let  your  wine  be  living, 
Or  lay  it  by  your  Master. 

Cham.     It  shall  be  quick  Sir.  [Exit. 

Dor.     Has  not  mine  Host  a  wife? 

[Clean].     A  good  old  woman. 

Dor.     Another  coffin,  that  is  not  so  handsom; 
Your  Hostesses  in  Innes  should  be  blith  things, 
Pretty,  and  young  to  draw  in  passengers; 
She'l  never  fill  her  beds  well,  if  she  be  not  beauteous. 

Clean.     And  courteous  too. 

Enter  Chamberlain,  with  wine. 

Dor.     I,  I,  and  a  good  fellow, 
That  will  mistake  sometimes  a  Gentleman 
For  her  good  man;  well  done;  here's  to  Lisander. 

Clean.    My  full  love  meets  it;  make  fire  in  our  lodgings, 
We'l  trouble  thee  no  farther;  to  your  Son.  [Ex.  Cham. 

Dor.     Put  in   Clarange  too;  off  with't,  I  thank  ye; 
This  wine  drinks  merrier  still,  O  for  mine  Host  now, 
Were  he  alive  again,  and  well  dispos'd, 
I  would  so  claw  his  pate. 

Clean.     Y'are  a  hard  drinker. 

Dor.     I  love  to  make  mine  Host  drunk,  he  will  lye  then 
The  rarest,  and  the  roundest,  of  his  friends, 
His  quarrels,  and  his  guests,  and  they  are  the  best  bauds  too, 
Take  'em  in  that  tune. 

Clean.     You  know  all. 

Dor.     I  did  Son,  but  time,  and  arms  have  worn  me  out. 

Clea.    'Tis  late  Sir,  I  hear  none  stirring.       [A  lute  is  struck. 

Dor.     Hark,  what's  that,  a  Lute? 
'Tis  at  the  door  I  think. 

Clean.     The  doors  are  shut  fast. 

Dor.     'Tis  morning  sure,  the  Fiddlers  are  got  up 
To  fright  mens  sleeps,  have  we  ne're  a  pispot  ready? 

Clean.    Now  I  remember,  I  have  heard  mine  Host  that's 
Touch  a  lute  rarely,  and  as  rarely  sing  too,  (dead, 

A  brave  still  mean. 

Dor.     I  would  give  a  brace  of  French  Crowns 
To  see  him  rise  and  Fiddle — Hark,  a  Song. 
114 


Sc.  i       THE   LOVERS    PROGRESS 

A  SONG. 

S  late  and  cold,  stir  up  the  fire; 

Sit  close,  and  draw  the  Table  nigher; 

Be  merry,  and  drink  wine  that's  old, 

A  hearty  medicine  'gainst  a  cold. 

Your  bed  of  wanton  down's  the  best, 

Where  you  shall  tumble  to  your  rest', 

I  could  wish  you  wenches  too, 

But  I  am  dead  and  cannot  do; 

Call  for  the  best  the  house  may  ring, 

Sack,  White,  and  Claret  let  them  bring, 

And  drink  apace  while  breath  you  have, 

You' I  find  but  cold  drink  in  the  grave-, 

Plover,  Partridge  for  your  dinner, 

And  a   Capon  for  the  sinner, 

You  shall  find  ready  when  you  are  up, 

And  your  horse  shall  have  his  sup: 
Welcom  we/com  shall  fly *e  round, 
And  I  shall  smile  though  under  ground. 

Clean.     Now  as  I  live,  it  is  his  voice. 

Dor.     He  sings  well,  the  Devil  has  a  pleasant  pipe. 

Clean.     The  fellow  lyed  sure. 

Enter  Host. 

He  is  not  dead,  he's  here:  how  pale  he  looks! 

Dor.     Is  this  he? 

Clean.     Yes. 

Host.     You  are  welcom  noble  Gentlemen, 
My  brave  old  guest  most  welcom. 

Clean.     Lying  knaves, 

To  tell  us  you  were  dead,  come  sit  down  by  us, 
We  thank  ye  for  your  Song. 

Host.     Would  't  had  been  better. 

Dor.     Speak,  are  ye  dead? 

Host.     Yes  indeed  am  I  Gentlemen, 
I  have  been  dead  these  three  weeks. 

Dor.     Then  here's  to  ye,  to  comfort  your  cold  body. 

Clean.     What  do  ye  mean?  stand  further  off. 

Dor.     I  will  stand  nearer  to  him, 

H2  115 


THE   LOVERS   PROGRESS    ACT  m 

Shall  he  come  out  on's  coffin  to  bear  us  company, 
And  we  not  bid  him  welcom?  come  mine  Host, 
Mine  honest  Host,  here's  to  ye. 

Host.     Spirits  Sir,  drink  not. 

Clea.     Why  do  ye  appear? 

Host.     To  wait  upon  ye  Gentlemen, 
'Thas  been  my  duty  living,  now  my  farewel; 
I  fear  ye  are  not  us'd  accordingly. 

Dor.     I  could  wish  you  warmer  company  mine  Host, 
How  ever  we  are  us'd. 

Host.     Next  to  entreat  a  courtesie, 
And  then  I  go  to  peace. 

Clea.     Is't  in  our  power? 

Host.     Yes  and  'tis  this,  to  see  my  body  buried 
In  holy  ground,  for  now  I  lye  unhallowed, 
By  the  clarks  fault;  let  my  new  grave  be  made 
Amongst  good  fellows,  that  have  died  before  me, 
And  merry  Hostes  of  my  kind. 

Clea.     It  shall  be  done. 

Dor.     And  forty  stoops  of  wine  drank  at  thy  funeral. 

Clea.     Do  you  know  our  travel? 

Host.     Yes,  to  seek  your  friends, 
That  in  afflictions  wander  now. 

Clean.     Alas ! 

Host.     Seek  'em  no  farther,  but  be  confident 
They  shall  return  in  peace. 

Dor.     There's  comfort  yet.  (Host, 

Clea.     Pray  ye  one  word  more,  is't  in  your  power  mine 
Answer  me  softly,  some  hours  before  my  death, 
To  give  me  warning? 

Host.     I  cannot  tell  ye  truly, 
But  if  I  can,  so  much  alive  I  lov'd  ye, 
I  will  appear  again,  adieu.  [Exit. 

Dor.     Adieu,  Sir. 

Cle.     I  am  troubl'd;  these  strange  apparitions  are 
For  the  most  part  fatal. 

Dor.     This  if  told,  will  not 

Find  credit,  the  light  breaks  apace,  let's  lie  down 
And  take  some  little  rest,  an  hour  or  two, 
Then  do  mine  host's  desire,  and  so  return, 

116 


Sc.  i       THE   LOVERS    PROGRESS 

I  do  believe  him. 

Clean.     So  do  I,  to  rest,  Sir.  {Exeunt. 

Enter  Calista,  and  Clarinda. 

Cal.     Clarinda  ? 

Clarln.     Madam. 

Cal.     Is  the  house  well  ordered? 
The  doors  look'd  to  now  in  your  Masters  absence? 
Your  care,  and  diligence  amongst  the  Servants? 

Clarin.     I  am  stirring,  Madam. 

Cal.     So  thou  art,  Clarinda^ 
More  than  thou  ought'st  I  am  sure,  why  dost  thou  blush? 

Clarin.     I  do  not  blush. 

Cal.     Why  dost  thou  hang  thy  head  wench? 

Clarin.     Madam,  ye  are  deceiv'd,  I  look  upright, 
I  understand  ye  not:  she  has  spied  Leon,  {Aside. 

Shame  of  his  want  of  caution. 

Cal.     Look  on  me;  what,  blush  again? 

Clarin.     'Tis  more  than  I  know,  Madam; 
I  have  no  cause  that  I  find  yet. 

Cal.     Examine  then. 

Clarin.     Your  Ladyship  is  set  I  think  to  shame  me. 

Cal.     Do  not  deserv't,  who  lay  with  you  last  night? 
What  bed-fellow  had  ye?  none  of  the  maids  came  near  ye. 

Clarin.     Madam,  they  did. 

Cal.     'Twas  one  in  your  Cousins  cloaths  then, 
And  wore  a  sword;  and  sure  I  keep  no  Amazons; 
Wench  do  not  lye,  'twill  but  proclaim  thee  guilty; 
Lyes  hide  our  sins  like  nets;   like  perspectives, 
They  draw  offences  nearer  still,  and  greater: 
Come,  tell  the  truth. 

Clarin.     You  are  the  strangest  Lady 

To  have  these  doubts  of  me;   how  have  I  liv'd,   Madam? 
And  which  of  all  my  careful  services  deserves  these  shames? 

Cal.     Leave  facing,  'twill  not  serve  ye, 
This  impudence  becomes  thee  worse  than  lying. 
I  thought  ye  had  liv'd  well,  and  I  was  proud  oft; 
But  you  are  pleas'd  to  abuse  my  thoughts;  who  was't? 
Honest  repentance  yet  will  make  the  fault  less. 

Clarin.     Do  ye  compel  me?    do  you  stand  so  strict  too? 

117 


THE   LOVERS    PROGRESS    ACT  m 

Nay,  then  have  at  ye;  I  shall  rub  that  sore,  Madam, 
(Since  ye  provoke  me)  will  but  vex  your  Ladyship; 
Let  me  alone. 

Cal.     I  will  know. 

Clarm.     For  your  own  peace, 

The  peace  of  your  own  conscience  ask  no  farther; 
Walk  in,  and  let  me  alone. 

Cal.     No,  I  will  know  all. 

Clar.     Why,  then  Tie  tell  ye,  'twas  a  man  I  lay  with, 
Never  admire,  'tis  easie  to  be  done,  Madam, 
And  usual  too,  a  proper  man  I  lay  with; 
Why  should  you  vex  at  that?  young  as  Lisander, 
And  able  too;   I  grudge  not  at  your  pleasure, 
Why  should  you  stir  at  mine?     I  steal  none  from  ye. 

Cal.     And  dost  thou  glory  in  this  sin? 

Cla.     I  am  glad  on't,  to  glory  in't  is  for  a  mighty  Lady 
That  may  command. 

Cal.     Why  didst  thou  name  Lisanderl 

Clarl.     Does  it  anger  ye?  does  it  a  little  gall  ye? 
I  know  it  does,  why  would  ye  urge  me  Lady? 
Why  would  ye  be  so  curious  to  compel  me? 
I  nam'd  Lisander  as  my  president, 
The  rule  I  err'd  by,  you  love  him,  I  know  it, 
I  grudg'd  not  at  it,  but  am  pleas'd  it  is  so; 
And  by  my  care  and  diligence  you  enjoy'd  him, 
Shall  I  for  keeping  counsel,  have  no  comfort? 
Will  you  have  all  your  self?  ingross  all  pleasure 
Are  ye  so  hard  hearted?   why  do  ye  blush  now,  Madam? 

Cal.     My  anger  blushes,  not  my  shame,  base  woman. 

Clar i.    I'le  make  your  shame  blush,  since  you  put  me  to't. 
Who  lay  with  you  t'other  night? 

Cal.     With  me?  ye  monster.  (bands; 

Clari.     Whose  sweet  embraces  circled  ye?  not  your  hus- 
I  wonder  ye  dare  touch  me  in  this  point,  Madam? 
Stir  her  against  ye  in  whose  hand  your  life  lies? 
More  than  your  life,  your  honour?  what  smug  Amazon 
Was  that  I  brought  you?   that  maid  had  ne're  a  petticoat? 

Cal.     She'l  half  perswade  me  anon,  I  am  a  beast  too, 
And  I  mistrust  my  self,  though  I  am  honest 
For  giving  her  the  Helm,  thou  knowest, 

u8 


Sc.  i       THE   LOVERS    PROGRESS 

(Ev'n  in  thy  conscience)  I  was  ever  vertuous; 
As  far  from  lust  in  meeting  with  Lisander, 
As  the  pure  wind  in  welcoming  the  morning; 
In  all  the  conversation  I  had  with  him, 
As  free,  and  innocent,  as  yon  fair  Heaven; 
Didst  not  thou  perswade  me  too? 

Clarin.     Yes,  I  had  reason  for't, 
And  now  you  are  perswaded  I'le  make  use  on't. 

Cal.     If  I  had  sin'd  thus,  and  my  youth  entic'd  me, 
The  nobleness  and  beauty  of  his  person, 
Beside  the  mighty  benefits  I  am  bound  to, 
Is  this  sufficient  warrant  for  thy  weakness? 
If  I  had  been  a  whore,  and  crav'd  thy  counsel 
In  the  conveyance  of  my  fault  and  faithfulness, 
Thy  secrecie,  and  truth  in  hiding  of  it; 
Is  it  thy  justice  to  repay  me  thus? 
To  be  the  Master  sinner  to  compel  me? 
And  build  thy  lusts  security  on  mine  honour? 

Cla.  They  that  love  this  sin,  love  their  security; 
Prevention,  Madam,  is  the  nail  I  knock'd  at, 
And  I  have  hit  it  home,  and  so  Fie  hold  it, 
And  you  must  pardon  me,  and  be  silent  too, 
And  suffer  what  ye  see,  and  suffer  patiently; 
I  shall  do  worse  else. 

Cal.     Thou  canst  not  touch  my  credit: 
Truth  will  not  suffer  me  to  be  abus'd  thus.  (Madam, 

Clarin.     Do  not  you  stick  to  truth,  she  is  seldom  heard, 
A  poor  weak  tongue  she  has,  and  that  is  hoarse  too 
With  pleading  at  the  bars,  none  understand [s]  her, 
Or  if  you  had  her,  what  can  she  say  for  ye? 
Must  she  not  swear  he  came  at  midnight  to  ye, 
The  door  left  open,  and  your  husband  cozen'd 
With  a  feign'd  sickness?  (honest. 

Cal.     But  by  my  soul  I  was  honest,  thou  know'st  I  was 

Clarin.     That's  all  one  what  I  know, 
What  I  will  testifie  is  that  shall  vex  ye; 
Trust  not  a  guilty  rage  with  likelihoods, 
And  on  apparent  proof,  take  heed  of  that,  Madam; 
If  you  were  innocent  (as  it  may  be  ye  are) 
I  do  not  know,  I  leave  it  to  your  conscience, 

119 


THE   LOVERS    PROGRESS   ACT  iv 

It  were  the  weakest  and  the  poorest  part  of  ye, 

Men  being  so  willing  to  believe  the  worst, 

So  open  eyed  in  this  age  to  all  infamie, 

To  put  your  fame  in  this  weak  bark  to  the  venture. 

Cal.     What  do  I  suffer !     O  my  precious  honour, 
Into  what  box  of  evils  have  I  lock'd  thee ! 
Yet  rather  than  be  thus  outbrav'd,  and  by 
My  drudg,  my  footstool,  one  that  sued  to  be  so ; 
Perish  both  life,  and  honour.    Devil  thus 
I  dare  thy  worst,  defie  thee,  spit  at  thee, 
And  in  my  vertuous  rage,  thus  trample  on  thee; 
Awe  me  thy  Mistris,  whore,  to  be  thy  baud? 
Out  of  my  house,  proclaim  all  that  thou  knowest, 
Or  malice  can  invent,  fetch  jealousie 
From  Hell,  and  like  a  furie  breath  it  in 
The  bosom  of  my  Lord;  and  to  thy  utmost 
Blast  my  fair  fame,  yet  thou  shalt  feel  with  horror 
To  thy  sear'd  conscience,  my  truth  is  built 
On  such  a  firm  base,  that  if  e're  it  can 
Be  forc'd,  or  undermin'd  by  thy  base  scandals, 
Heaven  keeps  no  guard  on  innocence.  [Exit. 

Clarln.     I  am  lost, 

In  my  own  hopes  forsaken,  and  must  fall 
The  greatest  torment  to  a  guilty  woman 
Without  revenge,  till  I  can  fashion  it 
I  must  submit,  at  least  appear  as  if 
I  did  repent,  and  would  offend  no  farther. 
Monsieur  Eeronte  my  Lords  Brother  is 
Oblig'd  unto  me  for  a  private  favour; 
'Tis  he  must  mediate  for  me;  but  when  time 
And  opportunity  bids  me  strike,  my  wreak 
Shall  pour  it  self  on  her  nice  chastitie 
Like  to  a  torrent,  deeds,  not  words  shall  speak  me.       [Exit. 

Affus  Quartus.     Scena  Prima. 

Enter  Alcidon,  and  Beronte,  severally. 

Aid.  ^\7HL  are  opportunely  [m]et.  (some  fear. 

J[       Ber.     Your  countenance  expresses  hast  mixt  with 

120 


Sc.  i       THE    LOVERS    PROGRESS 

Aid.    You'l  share  with  me  in  both,  as  soon  as  you  are  made 
Acquainted  with  the  cause,  if  you  love  vertue, 
In  danger  not  secure ;  I  have  no  time 
For  circumstance,  instruct  me  if  Lisander 
Be  in  your  Brothers  house? 

Eer.     Upon  my  knowledge  he  is  not  there. 

Aid.     I  am  glad  on't. 

Eer.     Why  good  Sir? 

(Without  offence  I  speak  it)  there's  no  place 
In  which  he  is  more  honour'd,  or  more  safe, 
Than  with  his  friend  Oleander. 

Aid.     In  your  votes 

I  grant  it  true,  but  as  it  now  stands  with  him, 
I  can  give  reason  to  make  satisfaction 
For  what  I  speak;  you  cannot  but  remember 
The  ancient  difference  between  Lisander 
And  Clor'idon^  a  man  in  grace  at  Court? 

Eer.     I  do;  and  the  foul  plot  of  Cloridons  kinsman 
Upon  Lisander s  life,  for  a  fall  given  to  Cloridon 
Tore  the  King,  as  they  encountred  at  a  solemn  tilting. 

Aid.     It  is  now  reveng'd : 
In  brief,  a  challenge  was  brought  to  Lisander 
By  one  Chrysant\K\es ;  and  as  far  as  valour 
Would  give  him  leave,  declined  by  bold  Lisander: 
But  peace  refus'd,  and  braves  on  braves  heap'd  on  him, 
Alone  he  met  the  opposites,  ending  the  quarrel 
With  both  their  lives. 

Eer.     I  am  truly  sorry  for't. 

Aid.     The  King  incensed  for  his  favorites  death, 
Hath  set  a  price  upon  Lisanders  head, 
As  a  reward  to  any  man  that  brings  it 
Alive,  or  dead;  to  gain  this,  every  where 
He  is  pursu'd,  and  laid  for;  and  the  friendship 
Between  him  and  your  noble  Brother  known, 
His  house  in  reason  cannot  pass  unsearcht, 
And  that's  the  principal  cause  that  drew  me  hither, 
To  hasten  his  remove,  if  he  had  chosen 
This  Castle  for  his  sanftuary. 

Eer.     'Twas  done  nobly, 
And  you  most  welcom;  this  night  pray  you  take 

121 


THE   LOVERS    PROGRESS    ACT  iv 

A  lodging  with  us;  and  at  my  intreaty 
Conceal  this  from  my  Brother,  he  is  grown 
Exceeding  sad  of  late;  and  the  hard  fortune 
Of  one  he  values  at  so  high  a  rate, 
Will  much  encrease  his  melancholy. 

Aid.     I  am  tutor'd:  pray  you  lead  the  way. 

Ber.     To  serve  you  I  will  shew  it.  [Exeunt. 

Enter  Cleander,  with  a  Book. 

Cle.     Nothing  more  certain  than  to  dye,  but  when 
Is  most  uncertain:  if  so,  every  hour 
We  should  prepare  us  for  the  journey,  which 
Is  not  to  be  put  off,  I  must  submit 
To  the  divine  decree,  not  argue  it, 
And  chearfully  I  welcom  it:  I  have 
Disposed  of  my  estate,  confessed  my  sins, 
And  have  remission  from  my  Ghost[l]y  Father, 
Being  at  peace  too  here:  the  apparition 
Proceeded  not  from  fancy,  Dorllaus 
Saw  it,  and  heard  it  with  me,  it  made  answer 
To  our  demands,  and  promis'd,  if  'twere  not 
Deny'd  to  him  by  fate,  he  would  forewarn  me 
Of  my  approaching  end,  I  feel  no  symptome 
Of  sickness,  yet  I  know  not  how  a  dulness 
Invades  me  all  over.     Ha? 

Enter  Host. 

Host.     I  come  Sir, 

To  keep  my  promise;  and  as  far  as  spirits 
Are  sensible  of  sorrow  for  the  living, 
I  grieve  to  be  the  messenger  to  tell  you, 
E're  many  hours  pass,  you  must  resolve 
To  fill  a  grave. 

Cle.     And  feast  the  worms? 

Host.     Even  so  Sir. 

Clea.     I  hear  it  like  a  man. 

Host.     It  well  becomes  you,  there's  no  evading  it. 

Cle.     Can  you  discover  by  whose  means  I  must  dye? 

Host.     That  is  deny'd  me: 
But  my  prediction  is  too  sure;  prepare 

122 


Sc.  i       THE    LOVERS    PROGRESS 

To  make  your  peace  with  heaven.     So  farewel  Sir.         [Ex. 

Cle.     I  see  no  enemy  near;  and  yet  I  tremble 
Like  a  pale  coward:  my  sad  doom  pronounc'd 
By  this  aerial  voice,  as  in  a  glass 
Shews  me  my  death  in  its  most  dreadfull  shape. 
What  rampire  can  my  humane  frailty  raise 
Against  the  assault  of  fate?    I  do  begin 
To  fear  my  self,  my  inward  strengths  forsake  me, 
I  must  call  out  for  help.    Within  there?   haste, 
And  break  in  to  my  rescue. 

Enter  Dorilaus,  Calista,  Olinda,  Beronte,  Alcidon, 
Servants,  and  Clarinda,  at  several  doors. 

Dor.     Rescue?   where?   shew  me  your  danger. 

Cal.     I  will  interpose 
My  loyall  breast  between  you  and  all  hazard. 

Ber.     Your  Brothers  Sword  secures  you. 

Aid.     A  true  friend  will  dye  in  your  defence. 

Clean.     I  thank  ye, 

To  all  my  thanks.     Encompass' d  thus  with  friends 
How  can  I  fear?  and  yet  I  do,  I  am  wounded, 
Mortally  wounded :  nay  it  is  within, 
I  am  hurt  in  my  minde:    One  word — 

Dor.     A  thousand. 

Cle.     I  shall  not  live  to  speak  so  many  to  you. 

Dor.     Why?   what  forbids  you? 

Cle.     But  even  now  the  spirit 
Of  my  dead  Host  appear' d,  and  told  me,  that 
This  night  I  should  be  with  him:  did  you  not  meet  it? 
It  went  out  at  that  door. 

Dor.     A  vain  Chimera 
Of  your  imagination:  can  you  think 
Mine  Host  would  not  as  well  have  spoke  to  me  now, 
As  he  did  in  the  Inn?  these  waking  dreams 
Not  alone  trouble  you,  but  strike  a  strange 
Distraction  in  your  Family:  see  the  tears 
Of  my  poor  Daughter,  fair  Olinda^  sadness, 
Your  Brothers,  and  your  friends  grief,  servants  sorrow. 
Good  Son  bear  up,  you  have  many  years  to  live 
A  comfort  to  us  all:  let's  in  to  supper; 

123 


THE   LOVERS    PROGRESS    ACT  iv 

Ghosts  never  walk  till  after  mid-night,  if 

I  may  believe  my  Grannam.     We  will  wash 

These  thoughts  away  with  Wine,  spight  of  Hobgoblins. 

Cle.     You  reprehend  me  justly:  gentle  Madam, 
And  all  the  rest,  forgive  me,  Tie  endeavour 
To  be  merry  with  you. 

Dor.     That's  well  said. 

Beron.     I  have  procur'd  your  pardon. 

Cat.     Once  more  I  receive  you 
Into  my  service:  but  take  especial  care 
You  fall  no  further. 

Clar.     Never  Madam:    Sir, 
When  you  shall  find  fit  time  to  call  me  to  it, 
I  will  make  good  what  I  have  said. 

Ber.     Till  when,  upon  your  life  be  silent. 

Dor.     We  will  have  a  health  unto  Lisander. 

Cle.     His  name,  Sir, 

Somewhat  revives  me;  but  his  sight  would  cure  me. 
How  ever  let's  to  supper. 

Olin.     Would  Clarange 

And  Lidian  were  here  too,  as  they  should  be, 
If  wishes  cou'd  prevail. 

Cal.     They  are  fruitless,  Madam.  [Ex. 

Enter  Leon. 

Leon.     If  that  report  speak  truth,  Clarinda  is 
Discharg'd  her  Ladies  service,  and  what  burthen 
I  then  have  drawn  upon  me  is  apparent, 
The  crop  she  reapt  from  her  attendance  was 
Her  best  Revenue,  and  my  principal  means 
C/arinda's  bounty,  though  I  labour'd  hard  for't, 
A  younger  Brother's  fortune :  must  I  now 
Have  soure  sawce  after  sweet  meats?  and  be  driv'n 
To  leavie  half  a  Crown  a  week,  besides 
Clouts,  Sope,  and  Candles,  for  my  heir  Apparent, 
If  she  prove,  as  she  swears  she  is  with  child; 
Such  as  live  this  way,  find  like  me,  though  wenching 
Hath  a  fair  face,  there's  a  Dragon  in  the  tail  oft 
That  stings  to  th'  quick.     I  must  skulk  here,  until 
I  am  resolv'd:  how  my  heart  pants  between 
124 


Sc.  i       THE   LOVERS    PROGRESS 

My  hopes  and  fears!   she's  come;  are  we  in  the  Port? 
If  not,  let's  sink  together. 

Enter  Clarinda. 

Clar.     Things  go  better 

Than  you  deserve;   you  carry  things  so  openly, 
I  must  bear  every  way,  I  am  once  more 
In  my  Ladies  grace. 

Leon.     And  I  in  yours. 

Clar.    It  may  be;   but  I  have  sworn  unto  my  Lady  never 
To  sin  again. 

Leon.  To  be  surpriz'd — the  sin 
Is  in  it  self  excusable;  to  be  taken 
Is  a  crime,  as  the  Poet  writes. 

Clar.     You  know  my  weakness, 
And  that  makes  you  so  confident.     You  have  got 
A  fair  sword;  was  it  not  Llsandersl 

Leon.     Yes  Wench, 

And  I  grown  valiant  by  the  wearing  of  it: 
It  hath  been  the  death  of  two.     With  this  Lisander 
Slew  Clor[id\ony  and  Chrysanthes.     I  took  it  up, 
Broken  in  the  handle,  but  that  is  reform'd, 
And  now  in  my  possession;   the  late  Master 
Dares  never  come  to  challenge  it:   this  sword, 
And  all  the  weapons  that  I  have,  are  ever 
Devoted  to  thy  service:    Shall  we  bill? 
I  am  very  gamesome. 

Clar.     I  must  first  dispose  of 

The  fool  Ma/fort-,   he  hath  smoak'd  you,  and  is  not, 
But  by  some  new  device  to  be  kept  from  me : 
I  have  it  here  shall  fit  him:  you  know  where 
You  must  expect  me,  with  all  possible  silence 
Get  thither. 

Leon.     You  will  follow? 

Clar.     Will  I  live? 
She  that  is  forfeited  to  lust  must  dye, 
That  humour  being  unfed;  begone,  here  comes        [Exit  Le. 

Enter  Malfort  in  Armour. 
My  champion  in  Armour. 

125 


THE  LOVERS    PROGRESS    ACT  iv 

Malf.     What  adventure 
I  am  bound  upon  I  know  not,  but  it  is 
My  Mistresses  pleasure  that  I  should  appear  thus. 
I  may  perhaps  be  terrible  to  others, 
But  as  I  am,  I  am  sure  my  shadow  frights  me, 
The  clashing  of  my  Armour  in  my  ears, 
Sounds  like  a  passing-bell;  and  my  Buckler,  puts  me 
In  mind  of  a  Bier;  this  my  broad  Sword  a  pick-axe 
To  dig  my  grave:   O  love,  abominable  love, 
What  Monsters  issue  from  thy  dismal  den, 
Clarinda's  placket,  which  I  must  encounter, 
Or  never  hope  to  enter? 

Clar.     Here's  a  Knight  errant,  Monsieur  Malfort. 

Malf.     Stand,  stand,  or  Fie  fall  for  ye. 

Clar.     Know  ye  not  my  voice? 

Malf.     Yes,  'twas  at  that  I  trembl'd. 
But  were  my  false  friend  Leon  here — 

Clar.     'Tis  he. 

Malf.     Where?  where? 

Clar.     He  is  not  come  yet. 

Malf.     'Tis  well  for  him, 
I  am  so  full  of  wrath. 

Clar.     Or  fear — This  Leon, 
How  e're  my  Kinsman,  hath  abus'd  you  grosly, 
And  this  night  vowes  to  take  me  hence  perforce, 
And  marry  me  to  another:  'twas  for  this, 
(Presuming  on  your  love)  I  did  entreat  you. 
To  put  your  armour  on,  that  with  more  safety 
You  might  defend  me. 

Mai     And  Tie  do  it  bravely. 

Clar.     You  must  stand  here  to  beat  him  off,  and  suffer 
No  humane  thing  to  pass  you,  though  it  appear 
In  my  Lords  shape,  or  Ladies:  be  not  cozen'd 
With  a  disguise. 

Mai.     I  have  been  fool'd  already,  but  now  I  am  wise. 

Clar.     You  must  swear  not  to  stir  hence. 

Mai.     Upon  these  lips. 

Clar.     Nor  move  untill  I  call  you? 

Mai.     I'le  grow  here  rather. 

Clar.     This  nights  task  well  ended, 
126 


Sc.  i       THE   LOVERS   PROGRESS 

I  am  yours  to  morrow.     Keep  sure  guard.  [Exit  Clar. 

Malf.     Adieu ; 

My  honey-comb  how  sweet  thou  art,  did  not 
A  nest  of  Hornets  keep  it!    what  impossibilities 
Love  makes  me  undertake!    I  know  my  self 
A  natural  Coward,  and  should  Leon  come, 
Though  this  were  Cannon  proof,  I  should  deliver 
The  wench  before  he  ask'd  her.     I  hear  some  rooting: 
'Tis  he;   where  shall  I  hide  my  self?   that  is 
My  best  defence. 

Enter  Cleander. 

C/e.     I  cannot  sleep,  strange  visions 
Make  this  poor  life,  I  fear'd  of  late  to  lose, 
A  toy  that  I  grow  weary  of. 

Malf.     'Tis  Leon. 

C/e.     What's  that? 

Malf.     If  you  are  come,  Sir,  for  Clarmda^ 
I  am  glad  I  have  her  for  you ;  I  resign 
My  interest;    you'll  find  her  in  her  Chamber, 
I  did  stay  up  to  tell  you  so. 

Clean.     Clarinda,  and  Leon] 
There  is  something  more  in  this 
Than  I  can  stay  to  ask.  [Exit. 

Malf.     What  a  cold  pickle 
(And  that  none  of  the  sweetest)  do  I  find 
My  poor  self  in ! 

Clean.     [Speaks  within.']  Yield  villain. 

Enter  Clarinda  and  Leon,  running. 
Cleander  following. 

Clar.     'Tis  my  Lord, 
Shift  for  your  self. 

Leon.     His  life 

Shall  first  make  answer  [Kills  Cleander. 

For  this  intrusion. 

Malf.     I  am  going  away, 
I  am  gone  already.  [Falls  in  a  swoon. 

Clean.     Heaven  take  mercy  on 
My  soul;   too  true  presaging  Host. 

127 


THE    LOVERS    PROGRESS    ACT  iv 

Clar.     He's  dead, 
And  this  wretch  little  better: 
Do  you  stare  upon  your 
Handy- work  ? 

Leon.     I  am  amaz'd. 

Clar.     Get  o're  the  Garden  wall,  flye  for  your  life, 
But  leave  your  sword  behind ;    enquire  not  why : 
I'le  fashion  something  out  of  it,  though  I  perish, 
Shall  make  way  for  revenge. 

Leon.     These  are  the  fruits 
Of  lust,  Clarinda. 

Clar.     Hence,  repenting  Milk-sop.  [Exit  Leon. 

Now  'tis  too  late.     Lisanders  sword,  I  that,      ( Puts  the  sword  in 
That  is  the  Base  I'le  build  on.    So,  I'le  raise    (Malforft  band. 
The  house.     Help,  murther,  a  most  horrid 
Murther.     Monsieur  Beronte,  noble  Dorilaus, 
All  buried  in  sleep?    Aye  me  a  murther, 
A  most  unheard-of  murther. 

Enter  Dorilaus  as  from  bed. 

Dor.     More  lights  Knaves; 
Beronte^  Alddon\    more  lights. 

Enter  Beronte,  Alcidon,  and  Servants  with  lights. 

Clar.     By  this  I  see  too  much. 

Dor.     My  Son   Cleander  bathing 

In  his  own  gore.     The  Devil,  to  tell  truth,  i'th'  shape  of 
An  Host! 

Ber.    My  Brother? 

Ma  If.     I  have  been 

I'th'  other  world,  in  Hell  I  think,  these  Devils 
With  fire-brands  in  their  paws  sent  to  torment  me, 
Though  I  never  did  the  deed,  for  my  lewd  purpose 
To  be  a  Whore-master. 

Dor.     Who's  that? 

Aid.    'Tis  one  in  Armour.    A  bloudy  sword  in  his  hand. 

Dor.     Sans  question  the  murtherer. 

Malf.     Who  I  ?   you  do  me  wrong, 
I  never  had  the  heart  to  kill  a  Chicken; 
Nor  do  I  know  this  sword. 

128 


Sc.  i       THE   LOVERS    PROGRESS 

Ale.     I  do,  too  well. 

Eer.     I  have  seen  Lnander  wear  it. 

Clar.     This  confirms 

What  yester-night  I  whisper'd:    let  it  work, 
The  circumstance  may  make  it  good. 

Ma  If.     My  Lord?   and  I  his  murtherer? 

Eer.     Drag  the  villain  hence, 
The  Rack  shall  force  a  free  confession  from  him. 

Malf.     I  am  struck  dumb; 
You  need  not  stop  my  mouth. 

Eer.     Away  with  him.  [Exit  with  Malfort. 

Enter  Calista,  and  Olinda. 

Cal.     Where  is  my  Lord? 

Dor.     All  that 

Remains  of  him  lies  there:    look  on  this  object, 
And  then  turn  marble. 

Cal.     I  am  so  already, 

Made  fit  to  be  his  Monument:    but  wherefore 
Do  you,  that  have  both  life  and  motion  left  you, 
Stand  sad  spectators  of  his  death. 
And  not  bring  forth  his  murtherer  ? 

Eer.     That  lies  in  you :   you  must,  and  shall  produce  him. 

Dor.     She,  Eerontel 

Eer.     None  else. 

Dor.     Thou  ly'st,  Tie  prove  it  on  thy  head, 
Or  write  it  on  thy  heart. 

Ale.     Forbear,  there  is 
Too  much  blood  shed  already. 

Eer.     Let  not  choler 

Stifle  your  judgment;   many  an  honest  Father 
Hath  got  a  wicked  Daughter.     If  I  prove  not 
With  evident  proofs  her  hand  was  in  the  bloud 
Of  my  dear  Brother,  (too  good  a  Husband  for  her) 
Give  your  revenge  the  reins,  and  spur  it  forward. 

Dor.     In  any  circumstance  but  shew  her  guilty, 
I'le  strike  the  first  stroak  at  her. 

Eer.     Let  me  ask 

A  question  calmly:    do  you  know  this  Sword? 
Have  you  not  seen  Lisander  often  wear  it? 

B.-F.  v.  I  129 


THE   LOVERS   PROGRESS   ACT  iv 

Dor.     The  same  with  which  he  rescued  me. 

Cal.     I  do,  what  inference  from  this  to  make  me  guilty? 

Ber.     Was  he  not  with  you  in  the  house  to  night? 

Cal.     No  on  my  soul. 

Ber.     Nor  ever  heretofore 

In  private  with  you,  when  you  feign'd  a  sickness, 
To  keep  your  Husband  absent? 

Cal.     Never,  Sir,  to  a  dishonest  end. 

Ber.     Was  not  this  Woman 
Your  instrument?    her  silence  does  confess  it: 
Here  lyes  Oleander  dead,  and  here  the  sword 
Of  false  Lisandery  too  long  cover'd  with 
A  masque  of  seeming  truth. 

Dor.     And  is  this  all 

The  proof  you  can  alledge?     Lisander  guilty, 
Or  my  poor  Daughter  an  Adulteress? 
Suppose  that  she  had  chang'd  discourse  with  one 
To  whom  she  ow'd  much  more? 

Cal.     Thou  hast  thy  ends,  wicked  Clarinda.       [She  falls. 

OIL     Help,  the  Lady  sinks,  malice  hath  kilPd  her. 

Dor.     I  would  have  her  live, 
Since  I  dare  swear  she's  innocent:    'tis  no  time 
Or  place  to  argue  now:    this  cause  must  be 
Decided  by  the  Judge ;    and  though  a  Father, 
I  will  deliver  her  into  the  hands 
Of  Justice.     If  she  prove  true  gold  when  try'd, 
She's  mine:    if  not,  with  curses  Tie  disclaim  her: 
Take  up  your  part  of  sorrow,  mine  shall  be 
Ready  to  answer  with  her  life  the  facl 
That  she  is  charg'd  with. 

Ber.     Sir,  I  look  upon  you  as  on  a  Father. 

Dor.     With  the  eyes  of  sorrow 
I  see  you  as  a  Brother:    let  your  witnesses 
Be  ready. 

Ber.     'Tis  my  care. 

Ale.     I  am  for  Lldian. 

This  accident  no  doubt  will  draw  him  from 
His  Hermits  life. 

Clar.     Things  yet  go  right,  persist,  Sir.  [Exeunt. 


130 


Sc.  i       THE   LOVERS    PROGRESS 

Enter  Lisander,  and  Lancelot. 

Lisan.     Are  the  horses  dead? 

Lane.     Out-right.     If  you  ride  at  this  rate, 
You  must  resolve  to  kill  your  two  a  day, 
And  that's  a  large  proportion. 

Lisan.     Will  you  please 

At  any  price,  and  speedily,  to  get  fresh  ones. 
You  know  my  danger,  and  the  penalty 
That  follows  it,  should  I  be  apprehended. 
Your  duty  in  obeying  my  commands, 
Will  in  a  better  language  speak  your  service, 
Than  your  unnecessary,  and  untimely  care  of  my  expence. 

Lane.     I  am  gone,  Sir.  [Exit. 

Lisan.     In  this  thicket 

I  will  expedl  you :    Here  yet  I  have  leisure 
To  call  my  self  unto  a  strict  account 
For  my  pass'd  life,  how  vainly  spent:    I  would 
I  stood  no  farther  guilty:    but  I  have 
A  heavier  reckoning  to  make :    This  hand 
Of  late  as  white  as  innocence,  and  unspotted, 
Now  wears  a  purple  colour,  dy'd  in  gore, 
My  soul  of  the  same  tincture;   pur-blind  passion, 
With  flattering  hopes,  would  keep  me  from  despair, 
Pleading  I  was  provok'd  to  it;    but  my  reason 
Breaking  such  thin  and  weak  defences,  tells  me 
I  have  done  a  double  murther;    and  for  what? 
Was  it  in  service  of  the  King?    his  Edicts 
Command  the  contrary:    or  for  my  Country? 
Her  Genius,  like  a  mourning  mother,  answers 
In  Cloridon,  and  Ckrysanthes  she  hath  lost 
Two  hopeful  sons,  that  might  have  done  their  parts, 
To  guard  her  from  Invasion :    for  what  cause  then  ? 
To  keep  th'  opinion  of  my  valour  upright, 
I'th'  popular  breath,  a  sandy  ground  to  build  on; 
Bought  with  the  Kings  displeasure,  as  the  breach 
Of  Heavens  decrees,  the  loss  of  my  true  comforts, 
In  Parents,  Kinsmen,  Friends,  as  the  fruition 
Of  all  that  I  was  born  to,  and  that  sits 
Like  to  a  hill  of  Lead  here,  in  my  exile, 

12  131 


THE    LOVERS    PROGRESS   ACT  iv 

(Never  to  be  repeaPd,  if  I  escape  so) 
I  have  cut  off  all  hopes  ever  to  look  on 

Enter  Lidian,  like  a  Hermite. 

Divine  CaUsta,  from  her  sight,  and  converse, 
For  ever  banish'd. 

Lid.     I  should  know  this  voice, 
His  naming  too  my  Sister,  whom  Lhander 
Honoured,  but  in  a  noble  way,  assures  me 
That  it  can  be  no  other:    I  stand  bound 
To  comfort  any  man  I  find  distress'd: 
But  to  aid  him  that  sav'd  my  life,  Religion 
And  Thankfulness  commands,  and  it  may  be 
High  providence  for  this  good  end  hath  brought  him 
Into  my  solitary  walk.     Lisander,  noble  Lhander. 

Lis.     Whatsoe'er  thou  art, 
That  honorable  attribute  thou  giv'st  me, 
I  can  pretend  no  right  to:    come  not  near  me, 
I  am  infectious,  the  sanctity 
Of  thy  profession  (for  thou  appearest 
A  reverend  Hermite)  if  thou  flye  not  from  me, 
As  from  the  Plague  or  Leprosie,  cannot  keep  thee 
From  being  polluted. 

Lid.     With  good  counsel,  Sir, 
And  holy  prayers  to  boot  I  may  cure  you, 
Though  both  wayes  so  infected.     You  look  wildly, 
Peace  to  your  conscience,  Sir,  and  stare  upon  me, 
As  if  you  never  saw  me :    hath  my  habit 
Alter'd  my  face  so  much,  that  yet  you  know  not 
Your  servant  Lidianl 

Lis.     I  am  amaz'd  ! 
So  young,  and  so  religious?  (world: 

Lid.    I  purpose  (Heaven  make  me  thankful  for't)  to  leave  the 
I  have  made  some  trial  of  my  strengths  in  this 
My  solitary  life;    and  yet  I  find  not 
A  faintness  to  go  on. 

Lis.     Above  belief:    do  you  inhabit  here? 

Lid.     Mine  own  free  choice,  Sir: 
I  live  here  poorly,  but  contentedly, 
Because  I  find  enough  to  feed  my  fortunes; 

132 


Sc.  i       THE    LOVERS    PROGRESS 

Indeed  too  much:    these  wild  fields  are  my  gardens, 

The  Crystal  Rivers  they  afford  their  waters, 

And  grudge  not  their  sweet  streams  to  quench  afflictions; 

The  hollow  rocks  their  beds,  which  though  they  are  hard, 

(The  Emblems  of  a  doting  lovers  fortune) 

Yet  they  are  quiet;    and  the  weary  slumbers 

The  eyes  catch  there,  softer  than  beds  of  Down,  Friend; 

The  Birds  my  Bell  to  call  me  to  devotions; 

My  Book  the  story  of  my  wandring  life, 

In  which  I  find  more  hours  due  to  repentance 

Than  time  hath  told  me  yet. 

Lls.     Answer  me  truly. 

Lid.     I  will  do  that  without  a  conjuration. 

Lis.     I'th'  depth  of  meditation  do  you  not 
Sometimes  think  of  Ollnda\ 

Lid.     I  endeavour 

To  raze  her  from  my  memory,  as  I  wish 
You  would  do  the  whole  Sex,  for  know,  Lisander, 
The  greatest  curse  brave  man  can  labour  under, 
Is  the  strong  Witch-craft  of  a  Womans  eyes; 
Where  I  find  men  I  preach  this  doftrine  to  'em : 
As  you  are  a  Scholar,  knowledge  make  your  Mistris, 
The  hidden  beauties  of  the  Heavens  your  study ; 
There  shall  you  find  fit  wonder  for  your  faith, 
And  for  your  eye  in-imitable  objects : 
As  you  are  a  profess' d  souldier,  court  your  honour, 
Though  she  be  stern,  she  is  honest,  a  brave  Mistris; 
The  greater  danger  you  oppose  to  win  her, 
She  shews  the  sweeter,  and  rewards  the  nobler; 
Womans  best  loves  to  hers  meer  shadows  be, 
For  after  death  she  weds  your  memory. 
These  are  my  contemplations. 

Lis.     Heavenly  ones; 
And  in  a  young  man  more  remarkable. 
But  wherefore  do  I  envy,  and  not  tread  in 
This  blessed  tra6l?  here's  in  the  heart  no  falshood 
To  a  vow'd  friend,  no  quarrels  seconded 
With  Challenges,  which  answer'd  in  defence 
Of  the  word  Reputation,  murther  follows. 
A  man  may  here  repent  his  sins,  and  though 

'33 


THE   LOVERS    PROGRESS   ACT  iv 

His  hand  like  mine  be  stain'd  in  bloud,  it  may  be 
With  penitence  and  true  contrition  wash'd  off; 
You  have  prov'd  it,  Lidian. 

Ltd.     And  you'll  find  it  true,  if  you  persevere. 

Lis.     Here  then  ends  my  flight, 
And  here  the  fury  of  the  King  shall  find  me 
Prepar'd  for  Heaven,  if  I  am  mark'd  to  dye; 
For  that  I  truly  grieve  for. 

Enter  Fryar,  and  Clarange  in  Fryars  habit. 

Fry.     Keep  your  self  conceal'd,  I  am  instructed. 

Clar.     How  the  sight 
Of  my  dear  friend  confirms  me. 

Lis.     What  are  these? 

Lid.     Two  reverend  Fryers,  one  I  know. 

Fry.     To  you 
This  journey  is  devoted. 

Lid.     Welcome,  Father. 

Fry.     I  know  your  resolution  so  well  grounded, 
And  your  adieu  unto  the  world  so  constant, 
That  though  I  am  th'  unwilling  messenger 
Of  a  strange  accident  to  try  your  temper, 
It  cannot  shake  you.     You  had  once  a  friend, 
A  noble  friend,  Clarange. 

Lid.     And  have  still,  I  hope,  good  Father. 

Fry.     Your  false  hopes  deceive  you, 
He's  dead. 

Lis.     Clarange  dead? 

Fry.     I  buried  him; 

Some  said  he  dy'd  of  melancholy,  some  of  love, 
And  of  that  fondness  perish'd. 

Lid.      O   Clarange  \ 

Clar.     Hast  thou  so  much  brave  nature,  noble  Lidian^ 
So  tenderly  to  love  thy  Rivals  memory? 
The  bold  Lisander  weeps  too. 

Fry.     I  expected  that  you  would  bear  this  better. 

Lid.     I  am  a  man,  Sir,  and  my  great  loss  weigh'd  duly — 

Fry.     His  last  words  were 
After  confession,  live  long,  dear  Lidian^ 
Possess'd  of  all  thy  wishes;  and  of  me 

'34 


Sc.  i       THE   LOVERS    PROGRESS 

He  did  desire,  bathing  my  hand  with  tears, 

That  with  my  best  care,  I  should  seek,  and  find  you, 

And  from  his  dying  mouth  prevail  so  with  you, 

That  you  a  while  should  leave  your  Hermits  stridtness, 

And  on  his  Monument  pay  a  tear  or  two, 

To  witness  how  you  lov'd  him.  (he  had  not 

Lid.     O  my  heart !    to  witness  how  I  lov'd  him  ?  would 
Led  me  into  his  Grave,  but  sacrificed 
His  sorrows  upon  mine,  he  was  my  friend, 
My  noble  friend,  I  will  bewail  his  ashes; 
His  fortunes,  and  poor  mine  were  born  together, 
And  I  will  weep  'em  both;   I  will  kneel  by  him, 
And  on  his  hallow'd  Earth  do  my  last  duties. 
I'll  gather  all  the  pride  of  Spring  to  deck  him, 
Wood-bines  shall  grow  upon  his  honoured  Grave; 
And  as  they  prosper,  clasp  to  shew  our  friendship, 
And  when  they  wither,  I'll  dye  too. 

Clar.     Who  would  not 
Desire  to  dye,  to  be  bewail'd  thus  nobly? 

Fry.     There  is  a  Legacy  he  hath  bequeath'd  you; 
But  of  what  value  I  must  not  discover, 
Until  those  Rites  and  pious  Ceremonies 
Are  duly  tendered. 

Lid.     I  am  too  full  of  sorrow  to  be  inquisitive. 

Lis.     To  think  of  his, 
I  do  forget  mine  own  woes. 

Enter  Alcidon. 

Ale.     Graze  thy  fill,  now 

Thou  hast  done  thy  business ;   ha !   who  have  we  here  ? 
Lisander,  Lidian,  and  two  Reverend  Fryars? 
What  a  strange  scene  of  sorrow  is  express'd 
In  different  postures,  in  their  looks  and  station ! 
A  common  Painter  eying  these  to  help 
His  dull  invention,  might  draw  to  the  life 
The  living  Sons  of  Priam,  as  they  stood 
On  the  pale  Walls  of  Troy,  when  Hettor  fell 
Under  Achillefs  Spear;  I  come  too  late, 

My  Horse,  though  good  and  strong,  mov'd  like  a  Tortoise; 
111  News  had  wings,  and  hath  got  here  before  me. 

135 


THE   LOVERS    PROGRESS    ACT  iv 

All  Pythagoreans  ?  not  a  word  ? 

Lid.  O  Alcidon— 

Deep  Rivers  with  soft  murmurs  glide  along 
The  shallow  roar ;    Clarange  \ 

Lis.     Cloridon,  Chrysanthes,  spare  my  grief,  and  apprehend 
What  I  should  speak. 

Ale.     Their  fates  I  have  long  since 
For  your  sakes  mourn'd;   Clar angers  death,  for  so 
Your  silence  doth  confirm,  till  now  I  heard  notj 
Are  these  the  bounds  that  are  prescribed  unto 
The  swelling  seas  of  sorrow? 

Lis.     The  bounds,  Alcidonl 

Can  all  the  winds  of  mischief,  from  all  Quarters, 
Euphrates,  Ganges,   Tigris,  Volga,  Po, 
Paying  at  once  their  tribute  to  this  Ocean, 
Make  it  swell  higher?     I  am  a  Murtherer, 
Banish'd,  proscrib'd,  is  there  ought  else  that  can 
Be  added  to  it? 

Lid.     I  have  lost  a  friend, 
Priz'd  dearer  than  my  being,  and  he  dead, 
My  miseries  at  the  height  contemn  the  worst 
Of  Fortunes  malice. 

Ale.     How  our  humane  weakness, 
Grown  desperate  from  small  disasters,  makes  us 
Imagine  them  a  period  to  our  sorrows! 
When  the  first  syllable  of  greater  woes 
Is  not  yet  written. 

Lid.     How? 

Lis.     Speak  it  at  large, 

Since  grief  must  break  my  heart,  I  am  ambitious 
It  should  be  exquisite. 

Ale.     It  must  be  told, 
Yet  ere  you  hear  it,  with  all  care  put  on 
The  surest  armour  anvil'd  in  the  Shop 
Of  passive  fortitude;   the  good  Oleander, 
Your  friend,  is  murther'd. 

Lis.     'Tis  a  terrible  pang, 
And  yet  it  will  not  do,  I  live  yet,  acl:  not 
The  Torturers  part;    if  that  there  be  a  blow    . 
Beyond  this,  give  it,  and  at  once  dispatch  me. 

.36 


Sc.  i       THE   LOVERS    PROGRESS 

Ale.     Your  Sword  died  in  his  heart-bloud  was  found  near 
Your  private  Conference  at  mid-night  urg'd  (him, 

With  fair  Calista-,    which  by  her  whose  pure  truth, 
Would  never  learn  to  tell  a  lie,  being  granted, 
She  by  enrag'd  Beronte  is  accus'd 
Of  Murther  and  Adultery,  and  you 
(However  I  dare  swear  it  false)  concluded 
Her  principal  Agent. 

Lid.     Wave  upon  wave  rowls  o'r  me. 
My  Sister?  my  dear  Sister? 

Clar.     Hold,  great  heart. 

Fry.     Tear  open  his  Doublet. 

Lis.     Is  this  wound  too  narrow 
For  my  life  to  get  out  at?     Bring  me  to 
A  Cannon  loaded,  and  some  pitying  friend 
Give  fire  unto  it,  while  I  nail  my  breast 
Unto  his  thundring  mouth,  that  in  the  instant, 
I  may  be  piece-meal  torn,  and  blown  so  far, 
As  not  one  joint  of  my  dismember'd  limbs 
May  ever  be  by  search  of  man  found  out. 
Oleander  \    Yet,  why  name  I  him  ?    however 
His  fall  deserv'd  an  Earth-quake,  if  compared 
With  what  true  honour  in  Callsta  suffers, 
Is  of  no  moment;    my  good  Angel  keep  me 
From  Blasphemy,  and  strike  me  dumb  before, 
In  th'  agony  of  my  spirit,  I  do  accuse 
The  Powers  above,  for  their  unjust  permission 
Of  Vertue,  innocent  Vertue,  to  be  branded 
With  the  least  vicious  mark. 

Clar.     I  never  saw  a  man  so  far  transported. 

Ale.     Give  it  way,  'tis  now  no  time  to  stop  it. 

Enter  Lancelot.  * 

Lane.     Sir,  I  have  bought 
Fresh  horses;    and  as  you  respeft  your  life, 
Speedily  back  'em;    the  Archers  of  the  Kings  guard 
Are  every  where  in  quest  of  you. 

Lis.     My  life? 

Perish  all  such  with  thee  that  wish  it  longer, 
Let  it  but  clear  CaHsta's  innocence,  [Strikes  Lancelot. 

'37 


THE    LOVERS    PROGRESS    ACT  v 

And  Nestor's  Age,  to  mine  was  Youth,  I'll  flye 
To  meet  the  rage  of  my  incensed  King, 
And  wish  his  favourites  Ghost  appeared  in  Flames, 
To  urge  him  to  revenge ;    let  all  the  tortures 
That  Tyranny  e're  found  out  circle  me, 
Provided  Justice  set  Calista  free. 

[Exeunt  Lisander,  Alcidon,  and  Lancelot. 

Ale.     I'll  follow  him. 

Lid.     I  am  rooted  here.  (dangers, 

Fry.    Remember  your  dear  friends  last  request,  your  sisters 
With  the  aids  that  you  may  lend  her. 

Lid.     Tray  you  support  me, 
My  Legs  deny  their  Office. 

Clar.     I  grow  still 

Farther  engag'd  unto  his  matchless  vertues, 
And  I  am  dead  indeed,  until  I  pay 
The  debt  I  owe  him  in  a  noble  way.  [Exeunt. 

ASlus   Quintus.     Scena  Prima. 

Enter  Dorilaus,  and  Servant. 

Dor.    'T^Hou  hast  him  safe? 

JL        Serv.     As  fast  as  locks  can  make  him; 
He  must  break  through  three  doors,  and  cut  the  throats 
Of  ten  tall  fellows,  if  that  he  'scape  us; 
Besides,  as  far  as  I  can  apprehend, 
He  hath  no  such  invention,  for  his  looks 
Are  full  of  penitence. 

Dor.     Trust  not  a  Knaves  look, 
They  are  like  a  Whores  Oaths; 
How  does  my  poor  Daughter 
Brook  her  restraint? 

Serv.     With  such  a  resolution 
As  well  becomes  your  Lordships  Child.  [Knock  within. 

Dor.     Who's  that? 

Enter  Lemure. 

Serv.     Monsieur  Lemure. 
Dor.     This  is  a  special  favour, 
And  may  stand  an  example  in  the  Court 

'38 


Sc.  i       THE   LOVERS    PROGRESS 

For  courtesie;  it  is  the  Clients  duty 

To  wait  upon  his  Patron;    you  prevent  me, 

That  am  your  humble  Suitor. 

Lent.     My  near  place 

About  the  King,  though  it  swell  others,  cannot 
Make  me  forget  your  worth  and  Age,  which  may 
Challenge  much  more  respe6l;    and  I  am  sorry 
That  my  endeavours  for  you  have  not  met  with 
The  good  success  I  wish'd;    I  mov'd  the  King 
With  my  best  advantage  both  of  time  and  place, 
IW  favour  of  your  Daughter. 

Dor.     How  do  you  find  his  Majesty  affected? 

Lem.     Not  to  be 

Sway'd  from  the  rigour  of  the  Law;    yet  so  far 
The  rarity  of  the  Cause  hath  won  upon  him, 
That  he  resolves  to  have  in  his  own  person 
The  hearing  of  it;    her  tryal  will  be  noble, 
And  to  my  utmost  strength,  where  I  may  serve  her 
My  aids  shall  not  be  wanting. 

Dor.     I  am  your  servant. 

Lem.     One  word  more;    if  you  love  Lisanders  life, 
Advise  him,  as  he  tenders  it,  to  keep 
Out  of  the  way;    if  he  be  apprehended, 
This  City  cannot  ransom  him;    so  good  morrow.  [Exit. 

Dor.     All  happiness  attend  you ;    go  thy  ways, 
Thou  hast  a  clear  and  noble  soul ;    for  thy  sake 
I'll  hold  that  man  mine  enemy,  who  dares  mutter, 
The  Court  is  not  the  sphere  where  vertue  moves, 
Humanity,  and  Nobleness  waiting  on  her. 

Enter  Servant. 

Serv.     Two  Gentlemen  (but  what  they  are  I  know  not, 
Their  faces  are  so  muffl'd)  press  to  see  you, 
And  will  not  be  deny'd. 

Dor.     What  e'r  they  are,  I  am  too  old  to  fear. 

Serv.     They  need  no  Usher,  they  make  their  own  way. 

Enter  Lisander,  Alcidon. 

Dor.     Take  you  yours,  Lisander ;  [Exit  Servant. 

My  joy  to  see  you,  and  my  sorrow  for 

139 


THE   LOVERS    PROGRESS    ACT  v 

The  danger  you  are  in,  contend  so  here, 

Though  different  passions,  nay  oppos'd  in  Nature, 

I  know  not  which  to  entertain.  (justice, 

Lis.     Your  hate  should  win  the  victory  from  both,  with 
You  may  look  on  me  as  a  Homicide, 
A  man  whose  life  is  forfeited  to  the  Law, 
But  if  (howe'r  I  stand  accus'd)  in  thought 
I  sin'd  against  Oleanders  life,  or  live 
Guilty  of  the  dishonour  of  your  Daughter, 
May  all  the  miseries  that  can  fall  on  man 
Here,  or  hereafter,  circle  me. 

Dor.     To  me  this  protestation's  useless,  I  embrace  you, 
As  the  preserver  of  my  life,  the  man 
To  whom  my  son  ows  his,  with  life,  his  honour, 
And  howsoever  your  affection 
To  my  unhappy  Daughter,  though  it  were 
(For  I  have  sifted  her)  in  a  noble  way, 
Hath  printed  some  taint  on  her  fame,  and  brought 
Her  life  in  question,  yet  I  would  not  purchase 
The  wish'd  recovery  of  her  reputation, 
With  strong  assurance  of  her  innocence 
Before  the  King  her  Judge,  with  certain  loss 
Of  my  Lisander,  for  whose  life,  if  found, 
There's  no  redemption;    my  excess  of  love, 
(Though  to  enjoy  you  one  short  day  would  lengthen 
My  life  a  dozen  years)  boldly  commands  me, 
Upon  my  knees,  which  yet  were  never  bent, 
But  to  the  King  and  Heaven,  to  entreat  you 
To  flye  hence  with  all  possible  speed,  and  leave 
Calista  to  her  fortune. 

Lis.     O  blessed  Saints,  forsake  her  in  affliction?   can  you 
Be  so  unnatural  to  your  own  bloud, 
To  one  so  well  deserving,  as  to  value 
My  safety  before  hers?   shall  innocence 
In  her  be  branded,  and  my  guilt  escape 
Unpunish'd  ?    does  she  suffer  so  much  for  me, 
For  me  unworthy,  and  shall  I  decline 
(Eating  the  bitter  bread  of  banishment) 
The  course  of  Justice  to  draw  out  a  life? 
(A  life?   I  style  it  false,  a  living  death) 

140 


Sc.  i       THE   LOVERS    PROGRESS 

Which  being  uncompeird,  laid  down  will  clear  her, 
And  write  her  name  anew  in  the  fair  legend 
Of  the  best  women?   seek  not  to  disswade  me, 
I  will  not,  like  a  careless  Poet,  spoil 
The  last  Act  of  my  Play,  till  now  applauded, 
By  giving  the  World  just  cause  to  say,  I  fear'd 
Death  more  than  loss  of  Honour. 

Dor.     But  suppose  Heaven  hath  design'd  some 
Other  saving  means  for  her  deliverance? 

Lis.     Other  means?   that  is 
A  mischief  above  all  I  have  groan'd  under; 
Shall  any  other  pay  my  debt,  while  I 
Write  my  self  Bankrupt?    or  Calista  owe 
The  least  beholdingness  for  that  which  she 
On  all  the  bonds  of  gratitude  I  have  seal'd  to, 
May  challenge  from  me  to  be  freely  tendered? 
Avert  it  mercy !     I  will  go  to  my  Grave, 
Without  the  curses  of  my  Creditors; 
I'll  vindicate  her  fair  name,  and  so  cancel 
My  obligation  to  her,  to  the  King, 
To  whom  I  stand  accountable  for  the  loss 
Of  two  of  his  lov'd  subjects  lives,  I'll  offer 
Mine  own  in  satisfaction,  to  Heaven 
I'll  pay  my  true  Repentance,  to  the  times, 
Present,  and  future,  I'll  be  register'd 
A  memorable  President  to  admonish 
Others,  however  valiant,  not  to  trust 
To  their  abilities  to  dare,  and  do, 
And  much  less  for  the  airy  words  of  Honour, 
And  false  stamp'd  reputation  to  shake  off 
The  Chains  of  their  Religion  and  Allegiance, 
The  principal  means  appointed  to  prefer 
Societies  and  Kingdoms.  [Exit. 

Dor.     Let's  not  leave  him;    his  mind's  much  troubled. 

Ale.     Were  your  Daughter  free, 
Since  from  her  dangers  his  distraction  rises, 
His  cause  is  not  so  desperate  for  the  slaughter 
Of  Cloridon,  and  Chrysantkes,  but  it  may 
Find  passage  to  the  mercy  of  the  King, 
The  motives  urg'd  in  his  defence,  that  forc'd  him 

141 


THE   LOVERS    PROGRESS    ACT  v 

To  a6l  that  bloudy  Scene. 

Dor.     Heaven  can  send  ayds, 
When  they  are  least  expected,  let  us  walk, 
The  hour  of  tryal  draws  near. 

Aid.     May  it  end  well.  [Exeunt. 

Enter  Olinda,  and  Lidian. 

Oil.     That  for  my  love  you  should  turn  Hermit  Lidian^ 
As  much  amazes  me,  as  your  report  Clarange's  dead. 

Lidi.     He  is  so,  and  all  comforts 
My  youth  can  hope  for,  Madam,  with  him  buried; 
Nor  had  I  ever  left  my  cell,  but  that 
He  did  injoin  me  at  his  death  to  shed 
Some  tears  of  friendship  on  his  Monument, 
And  those  last  Rites  perform'd,  he  did  [bjequeath  you 
As  the  best  legacie  a  friend  could  give, 
Or  I  indeed  could  wish  to  my  embraces. 

Oil.     'Tis  still  more  strange,  is  there  no  foul  play  in  it? 
I  must  confess  I  am  not  sorry  Sir 
For  your  fair  fortune ;    yet  'tis  fit  I  grieve 
The  most  untimely  death  of  such  a  Gentleman, 
He  was  my  worthy  Servant. 

Lid.    And  for  this  acknowledgment,  if  I  could  prize  you  at 
A  higher  rate  I  should,  he  was  my  friend: 
My  dearest  friend. 

Oil.     But  how  should  I  be  assur'd  Sir 
(For  slow  belief  is  the  best  friend  of  truth) 
Of  this  Gentlemans  death  ?    if  I  should  credit  it, 
And  afterward  it  fall  out  contrary, 
How  am  I  sham'd?    how  is  your  vertue  tainted? 

Lid.     There  is  a  Frier  that  came  along  with  me, 
His  business  to  deliver  you  a  Letter 
From  dead  C/arange:    You  shall  hear  his  Testimonie. 
Father,  my  reverend  Father,  look  upon  him, 
Such  holy  men  are  Authors  of  no  Fables. 

Enter  Clarange,  (with  a  Letter  writ  out)  and  Frier. 

Oil.     They  should  not  be,  their  lives  and  their  opinions, 
Like  brightest  purest  flames  should  still  burn  upwards, 
To  me  Sir?  [delivers  the  Letter. 

142 


Sc.  i       THE   LOVERS   PROGRESS 

C/ar.     If  you  are  the  fair  Olinda — 

Frier.     I  do  not  like  these  cross  points. 

C/ar.    Give  me  leave,  I  am  nearest  to  my  self.    What  I  have 
Shall  be  pursu'd:  you  must  not  over-rule  me.  (plotted 

Oli.     Do  you  put  the  first  hand  to  your  own  undoing? 
Play  to  betray  your  game?    Mark  but  this  letter. 
Lady  I  am  come  to  claim  your  noble  promise,  [Reads. 

If  you  be  Mistris  of  your  word,  ye  are  mine, 
I  am  last  returned:    your  riddle  is  dissolv'd, 
And  I  attend  your  faith.     Your  humble  servant  Clarange. 
Is  this  the  Frier  that  saw  him  dead? 

Lid.     'Tis  he. 

Clarange  on  my  life:    I  am  defeated: 
Such  reverend  habits  juggle?    my  true  sorrow 
For  a  false  friend  not  worth  a  tear  derided? 

Fri.     You  have  abus'd  my  trust. 

Oli.     It  is  not  well,  nor  like  a  Gentleman. 

C/ar.     All  stratagems 

In  love,  and  that  the  sharpest  war,  are  lawfull, 
By  your  example  I  did  change  my  habit, 
Caught  you  in  your  own  toyle,  and  triumph  in  it, 
And  what  by  policy's  got,  I  will  maintain 
With  valour,  no  Lisander  shall  come  in  again  to  fetch  you  off. 

Lid.     His  honour'd  name 

Pronounc'd  by  such  a  treacherous  tongue  is  tainted, 
Maintain  thy  treason  with  thy  sword?    With  what 
Contempt  I  hear  it !    in  a  Wilderness 
I  durst  encounter  it,  and  would,  but  that 
In  my  retired  hours,  not  counterfeited 
As  thy  religious  shape  was,  I  have  learn'd 
When  Justice  may  determine  such  a  cause, 
And  of  such  weight  as  this  fair  Lady  is, 
Must  not  be  put  to  fortune,  I  appeal 
Unto  the  King,  and  he  whose  wisedom  knows 
To  do  his  subjects  right  in  their  estates, 
As  graciously  with  judgement  will  determine 
In  points  of  honour. 

Oli.     I'le  steer  the  same  course  with  you. 

C/ar.     I'le  stand  the  tryal. 

Fri.     What  have  you  done?   or  what  intend  you? 

143 


THE   LOVERS    PROGRESS    ACT  v 

Cla.     Ask  not;    Fie  come  off  with  honour.          [Exeunt. 
Enter  Beronte,  Clarinda,  Malfort,  a  Bar  set  forth,  Officers. 

Ber.     Be  constant  in  your  proofs:  should  you  shrink  back 
Your  life  must  answer  it,  nor  am  I  safe.  (now, 

My  honour  being  engag'd  to  make  that  good 
Which  you  affirm. 

Clar.     I  am  confident,  so  dearly 
I  honoured  my  dead  Lord,  that  no  respect, 
Or  of  my  Ladies  bounties  (which  were  great  ones 
I  must  confess)  nor  of  her  former  life, 
For  while  that  she  was  chast,  indeed  I  lov'd  her, 
Shall  hinder  me  from  lending  my  assistance 
Unto  your  just  revenge — mine  own  I  mean,  [Aside. 

If  Leon  keep  far  off  enough,  all's  secure: 
Lisander  dares  not  come  in,  modest  blushes 
Parted  with  me  long  since,  and  impudence 
Arm'd  with  my  hate,  unto  her  innocence  shall  be 
The  weapon  I  will  fight  with  now. 

Ber.     The  rack 

Being  presented  to  you,  you'l  roar  out 
What  you  conceal  yet. 

Mai.     Conceal?    I  know  nothing 
But  that  I  shall  be  hang'd,  and  that  I  look  for, 
It  is  my  destiny,  I  ever  had 
A  hanging  look;    and  a  wise  woman  told  me, 
Though  I  had  not  the  heart  to  do  a  deed 
Worthy  the  halter,  in  my  youth  or  age, 
I  should  take  a  turn  with  a  wry  mouth,  and  now 
'Tis  come  about:    I  have  pen'd  mine  own  ballad 
Before  my  condemnation,  in  fear 
Some  rimer  should  prevent  me:    here's  my  Lady? 
Would  I  were  in  heaven,  or  a  thousand  miles  hence, 
That  I  might  not  blush  to  look  on  her. 

Enter  Dorilaus,  Calista,  Olinda. 

Dor.     You  behold  this  preparation,  and  the  enemies 
Who  are  to  fight  against  your  life,  yet  if 
You  bring  no  witness  here,  that  may  convince  ye 
Of  breach  of  faith  to  your  Lords  bed,  and  hold  up 

144 


Sc.  i       THE   LOVERS    PROGRESS 

Unspotted  hands  before  the  King,  this  tryal 
You  are  to  undergo,  will  but  refine, 
And  not  consume  your  honour. 

Cal.     How  confirm'd 
I  am  here,  whatsoever  Fate  falls  on  me, 
You  shall  have  ample  testimony;    till  the  death 
Of  my  dear  Lord,  to  whose  sad  memory 
I  pay  a  mourning  widows  tears,  I  liv'd 
Too  happy  in  my  holy-day  trim  of  glorie, 
And  courted  with  felicitie,  that  drew  on  me, 
With  other  helps  of  nature,  as  of  fortune, 
The  envie,  not  the  love  of  most  that  knew  me, 
This  made  me  to  presume  too  much,  perhaps 
Too  proud;    but  I  am  humbled;    and  if  now 
I  do  make  it  apparent,  I  can  bear 
Adversity  with  such  a  constant  patience 
As  will  set  off  my  innocence,  I  hope  Sir, 
In  your  declining  age,  when  I  should  live 
A  comfort  to  you,  you  shall  have  no  cause, 
How  e're  I  stand  accus'd,  to  hold  your  honour 
Ship-wrack'd  in  such  a  Daughter. 

OIL     O  best  friend,  my  honour's  at  the  stake  too,  for — 

Dor.     Be  silent;   the  King. 

Enter  King,  Lemure,  and  Attendants. 

Lem.     Sir,  if  you  please  to  look  upon 
The  Prisoner,  and  the  many  services 
Her  Father  hath  done  for  you — 

King.     We  must  look  on 

The  cause,  and  not  the  persons.     Yet  beholding 
With  an  impartial  eye,  th'  excelling  beauties 
Of  this  fair  Lady,  which  we  did  believe 
Upon  report,  but  till  now  never  saw  'em, 
It  moves  a  strange  kind  of  compassion  in  me; 
Let  us  survey  you  nearer,  she's  a  book 
To  be  with  care  perus'd;    and  'tis  my  wonder, 
Jf  such  mishapen  guests,  as  lust  and  murther, 
At  any  price  should  ever  find  a  lodging 
In  such  a  beauteous  Inne!     Mistake  us  not, 
Though  we  admire  the  outward  structure,  if 

B.-F.  V.  K  145 


THE   LOVERS    PROGRESS    ACT  v 

The  rooms  be  foul  within,  expert  no  favour. 
I  were  no  man,  if  I  could  look  on  beautie 
Distressed,  without  some  pity;    but  no  King, 
If  any  superficial  gloss  of  feature 
Could  work  me  to  decline  the  course  of  Justice. 
But  to  the  cause,  Oleander's  death,  what  proofs 
Can  you  produce  against  her? 

Ber.     Royal  Sir,  touching  that  point  my  Brothers  death, 
We  build  on  suppositions.  (demn'd 

King.    Suppositions  ?    how  ?    Is  such  a  Lady  Sir  to  be  con- 
On  suppositions? 

Ber.     They  are  well  grounded  Sir: 
And  if  we  make  it  evident  she  is  guilty 
Of  the  first  crime  we  charge  her  with,  Adulterie, 
That  being  the  parent,  it  may  find  belief, 
That  murther  was  the  issue. 

King.     We  allow 

It  may  be  so;   but  that  it  may  be,  must  not 
Infer  a  necessary  consequence 
To  cast  away  a  Ladies  life.     What  witnesses 
To  make  this  good? 

Ber.     The  principal,  this  woman, 
For  many  years  her  servant ;    she  hath  taken 
Her  oath  in  Court.     Come  forward. 

King.     By  my  Crown  a  lying  face. 

Clar.     I  swore  Sir  for  the  King: 
And  if  you  are  the  partie,  as  I  do 
Believe  you  are,  for  you  have  a  good  face, 
How  ever  mine  appears,  swearing  for  you  Sir, 
I  ought  to  have  my  oath  pass. 

King.     Impudent  too?   well,  what  have  you  sworn? 

Clar.     That  this  Lady  was 
A  goodly  tempting  Lady,  as  she  is: 
How  thinks  your  Majestic?   and  I  her  servant, 
Her  officer  as  one  would  say,  and  trusted 
With  her  closest  Chamber-service;    that  Lisander 
Was  a  fine  timbered  Gentleman,  and  active, 
That  he  cou'd  do  fine  gambolls 
To  make  a  Lady  merrie;    that  this  pair, 
A  very  loving  couple,  mutually 


Sc.  i       THE   LOVERS    PROGRESS 

Affected  one  another:    so  much  for  them  Sir. 

That  I,  a  simple  waiting-woman,  having  taken 

My  bodily  oath,  the  first  night  of  admittance 

Into  her  Ladiships  service,  on  her  slippers, 

(That  was  the  book)  to  serve  her  will  in  all  things, 

And  to  know  no  Religion  but  her  pleasure, 

'Tis  not  yet  out  of  fashion  with  some  Ladies ; 

That  I,  as  the  premisses  shew,  being  commanded 

To  do  my  function,  in  conveyance  of 

Lisander  to  her  chamber,  (my  Lord  absent, 

On  a  pretended  sickness)  did  the  feat, 

(It  cannot  be  deny'd)  and  at  dead  mid-night 

Left  'em  together:    what  they  did,  some  here 

Can  easily  imagine!    I  have  said,  Sir. 

Dor.     The  Devils  Oratrix. 

King.     Then  you  confess  you  were  her  Bawd? 

Clar.     That's  course,  her  Agent  Sir. 

King.     So,  goodie  Agent?   and  you  think  there  is 
No  punishment  due  for  you[r]  agentship? 

Clar.     Let  her  suffer  first, 
Being  my  better,  for  adulterie, 
And  I'le  endure  the  MulcT:  impos'd  on  Bawds, 
Call  it  by  the  worst  name. 

CaL     Live  I  to  hear  this? 

King.     Take  her  aside.     Your  answer  to  this  Lady? 

Cat.     Heav'n  grant  me  patience:    to  be  thus  confronted, 
(O  pardon  Royal  Sir  a  womans  passion) 
By  one,  and  this  the  worst  of  my  mis-fortunes, 
That  was  my  slave,  but  never  to  such  ends  Sir, 
Would  give  a  statue  motion  into  furie: 
Let  my  pass'd  life,  my  actions,  nay  intentions, 
Be  by  my  grand  accuser  justly  censur'd, 
(For  her  I  scorn  to  answer)  and  if  they 
Yield  any  probability  of  truth 
In  that  she  urges,  then  I  will  confess 
A  guilty  cause;    the  peoples  voyce,  which  is 
The  voyce  of  truth,  my  husbands  tenderness 
In  his  affedtion  to  me,  that  no  dotage 
But  a  reward,  of  humbleness,  the  friendship 
Echo'd  through  France  between  him  and  Lisander, 

K2  147 


THE   LOVERS    PROGRESS    ACT  v 

All  make  against  her;    for  him,  in  his  absence, 

(What  ever  imputation  it  draw  on  me) 

I  must  take  leave  to  speak:    'tis  true,  he  lov'd  me, 

But  not  in  such  a  wanton  way,  his  reason 

Master'd  his  passions:    I  grant  I  had 

At  mid-night  conference  with  him;    but  if  he 

Ever  receiv'd  a  farther  favour  from  me, 

Than  what  a  Sister  might  give  to  a  Brother, 

May  I  sink  quick:    and  thus  much,  did  he  know 

The  shame  I  suffer  for  him,  with  the  loss 

Of  his  life  for  appearing,  on  my  soul 

He  would  maintain. 

Enter  Lisander,  and  Alcidon. 

Lisa.     And  will,  thou  clear  example  of  womens  pureness. 

King.     Though  we  hold  her  such, 
Thou  hast  expressed  thy  self  a  desperate  fool, 
To  thrust  thy  head  into  the  Lions  jawes, 
The  justice  of  thy  King. 

Lisan.     I  came  prepar'd  for't, 
And  offer  up  a  guilty  life  to  clear 
Her  innocence;    the  oath  she  took,  I  swear  to; 
And  for  Oleanders  death,  to  purge  my  self 
From  any  colour  malice  can  paint  on  me, 
Or  that  she  had  a  hand  in't,  I  can  prove 
That  fatal  night  when  he  in  his  own  house  fell, 
And  many  daies  before,  I  was  distant  from  it 
A  long  daies  journey. 

Clarin.     I  am  caught. 

Ber.     If  so, 
How  came  your  sword  into  this  stewards  hands?  stand  forth. 

Mai.     I  have  heard  nothing  that  you  spake: 
I  know  I  must  dye,  and  what  kind  of  death 
Pray  you  resolve  me,  I  shall  go  away  else 
In  a  qualm;    I  am  very  faint. 

Enter  Leon,  Servants,  and  Guard. 

King.    Carry  him  off,  his  fear  will  kill  him.     [Ex.  with  Mai. 
Dor.     Sir,  'twas  my  ambition, 
My  Daughters  reputation  being  wounded 

148 


Sc.  i       THE   LOVERS    PROGRESS 

Fth'  general  opinion,  to  have  it 

Cur'd  by  a  publick  trial;    I  had  else 

Forborn  your  Majesties  trouble :    Fie  bring  forth 

Oleanders  murtherer,  in  a  wood  I  heard  him 

As  I  rode  sadly  by,  unto  himself 

With  some  compunction,  though  this  devil  had  none, 

Lament  what  he  had  done,  cursing  her  lust, 

That  drew  him  to  that  blody  facl. 

Le.     To  lessen 

The  foulness  of  it,  for  which  I  know  justly 
I  am  to  suffer,  and  with  my  last  breath 
To  free  these  innocents,  I  do  confess  all; 
This  wicked  woman  only  guilty  with  me. 

Clarl.     Is't  come  to  this?    thou  puling  Rogue,  dye  thou 
With  prayers  in  thy  mouth;    I'le  curse  the  laws 
By  which  I  suffer,  all  I  grieve  for  is, 
That  I  dye  unreveng'd. 

Leon.     But  one  word  more  Sir, 
And  I  have  done;    I  was  by  accident  where 
Lisander  met  with  Cloridon^  and  C\Ji\rysanthes, 
Was  an  ear  witness  when  he  sought  for  peace, 
Nay,  begg'd  it  upon  colder  terms  than  can 
Almost  find  credit,  his  past  deeds  considered, 
But  they  deaf  to  his  reasons,  severally 
Assaulted  him,  but  such  was  his  good  fortune, 
That  both  fell  under  it;    upon  my  death 
I  take  it  uncompel'd,  that  they  were  guilty 
Of  their  own  violent  ends;   and  he  against 
His  will,  the  instrument. 

Aid.     This  I  will  swear  too,  for  I  was  not  far  off. 

Dor.     They  have  alledg'd 
As  much  to  wake  your  sleeping  mercy,  Sir, 
As  all  the  Advocates  of  France  can  plead 
In  his  defence. 

King.     The  criminal  judge  shall  sentence 
These  to  their  merits — with  mine  own  hand,  Lady, 
I  take  you  from  the  bar  and  do  my  self 
Pronounce  you  innocent,  [Ex.  with  Leon,  and  Clari. 

All.     Long  live  the  King. 

King.     And  to  confirm  you  stand  high  in  our  favour, 

149 


THE   LOVERS    PROGRESS    ACT  v 

And  as  some  recompence  for  what  you  have 
With  too  much  rigour  in  your  trial  suffered; 
Ask  what  you  please,  becoming  me  to  grant, 
And  be  possest  of  't. 

Cal.     Sir,  I  dare  not  doubt 
Your  royal  promise,  in  a  King  it  is 
A  strong  assurance,  that  emboldens  me 
Upon  my  humble  knees  to  make  my  boon, 
Lisander's  pardon. 

Dor.     My  good  Genius  did  prompt  her  to  it. 

Le[ni\.     At  your  feet  thus  prostrate,  I  second  her  petition. 

Aid.     Never  King 
Pour'd  forth  his  mercie  on  a  worthier  subject. 

Ber.     To  witness  my  repentance  for  the  wrong 
In  my  unjust  suspicion  I  did  both; 
I  join  in  the  same  suit. 

Lis.     The  life  you  give, 
Still  ready  to  lay  down  for  your  service, 
Shall  be  against  your  enemies  imploy'd, 
Nor  hazarded  in  brawles. 

AIL     Mercie,  dread  Sir. 

King.     So  many  pressing  me,  and  with  such  reasons 
Moving  compassion,  I  hope  it  will  not 
Be  censur'd  levity  in  me,  though  I  borrow 
In  this  from  justice  to  relieve  my  mercy; 
I  grant  his  pardon  at  your  intercession, 
But  still  on  this  condition;    you  Lisander, 
In  expiation  of  your  guilt,  shall  build 
A  monument  for  my  Cloridon,  and  C[K]rysanthes : 
And  never  henceforth  draw  a  Sword,  but  when 
By  us  you  are  commanded,  in  defence  of 
The  flower  de  Luce,  and  after  one  years  sorrow 
For  your  dear  friend,  Oleanders  wretched  fate, 
Marry  C  a  list  a. 

Enter  Lidian. 

Lis.     On  your  sacred  hand,  I  vow  to  do  it  seriously. 

Lid.     Great  Sir,  stay, 

Leave  not  your  seat  of  justice,  till  you  have 
Given  sentence  in  a  cause  as  much  important 

150 


Sc.  i       THE    LOVERS    PROGRESS 

As  this  you  have  determined. 
King.     Lidian  ? 

Enter  Clarange,  and  Frier. 

Lid.     He  Sir,  your  humblest  subject,  I  accuse  Clarange 
Of  falshood  in  true  friendship  at  the  height; 
We  both  were  suiters  to  this  Lady,  both 
InjoynM  one  pennance. 

Clar.     Trouble  not  the  King 
With  an  unnecessarie  repetition 
Of  what  the  court's  familiar  with  already. 

Kin.     Clarange  ? 

Dor.     With  a  shaven  crown? 

0/in.     Most  strange. 

Clar.     Look  on  thy  rival,  your  late  servant,  Madam, 
But  now  devoted  to  a  better  Mistris, 
The  Church,  whose  orders  I  have  took  upon  me: 
I  here  deliver  up  my  interest  to  her; 
And  what  was  got  with  cunning  as  you  thought, 
I  simply  thus  surrender:    heretofore, 
You  did  outstrip  me  in  the  race  of  friendship, 
I  am  your  equal  now. 

Dor.     A  suit  soon  ended. 

Clar.    And  joyning  thus  your  hands,  I  know  both  willing, 
I  may  do  in  the  Church  my  Friers  Office 
In  marrying  you. 

Lid.     The  victory  is  yours,  Sir. 

King.     It  is  a  glorious  one,  and  well  sets  of[f] 
Our  Scene  of  mercy;    to  the  dead  we  tender 
Our  sorrow,  to  the  living  ample  wishes 
Of  future  happiness:    'tis  a  Kings  duty 
To  prove  himself  a  Father  to  his  subjects  : 
And  I  shall  hold  it  if  this  well  succeed, 
A  meritorious,  and  praise  worthy  deed.  [Exeunt. 


THE   LOVERS    PROGRESS 


Prologue. 


A     Story,  and  a  known  one,  long  since  writ, 
Truth  must  take  place,  and  by  an  able  wit, 
Foul  mouth* d  detraction  daring  not  deny 
To  give  so  much  to  Fletchers  memory; 
If  so,  some  may  objeff,  why  then  do  you 
Present  an  old  piece  to  us  for  a  new  ? 
Or  wherefore  will  your  profest   Writer  be 
(Not  tax'd  of  theft  before)  a  Plagiary  ? 
To  this  he  answers  in  his  just  defence, 
And  to  maintain  to  all  our  Innocence, 
Thus  much,  though  he  hath  traveled  the  same  way, 
Demanding,  and  receiving  too  the  pay 
For  a  new  Poem,  you  may  find  it  due, 
He  having  neither  cheated  us,  nor  you; 
He  vowes,  and  deeply,  that  he  did  no\t]  spare 
The  utmost  of  his  strengths,  and  his  best  care 
In  the  reviving  it,  and  though  his  powers 
Could  not  as  he  desired,  in  three  short  hours 
Contract  the  Subjefl,  and  much  less  express 
The  changes,  and  the  various  passages 
That  will  be  looked  for,  you  may  hear  this  day 
Some  Scenes  that  will  confirm  it  is  a  play, 
He  being  ambitious  that  it  should  be  known 
Whafs  good  was  Fletchers,  and  what  ill  his  own. 


Epilogue. 

STill  doubtfull,  and  perplexed  too,  whether  he 
Hath  done  Fletcher  right  in  this  Historie, 
The  Poet  sits  within,  since  he  must  know  it, 
He  with  respefl  desires  that  you  would  shew  it 
By  some  accustomed  sign,  if  from  our  aflion, 
Or  his  indeavours  you  meet  satisfaction, 
With  ours  he  hath  his  ends,  we  hope  the  best, 
To  make  that  certainty  in  you  doth  rest. 


152 


THE 

PILGRIM. 

A 

COMEDY. 


Persons  Represented  in  the  Play. 


Governour,  of  Segovia. 

Verdugo,  a  Captain  under  him. 

Alphonso,  an  old  angry  Gentleman. 

Curio,    )  two  Gentlemen,  friends  to 

Seberto,)      Alphonso. 

Pedro,  the  Pilgrim,  a  noble  Gentle 
man,  Servant  to  Alinda. 

An  old  Pilgrim. 

Lopes,  )  two  Out-laws  under  Rode- 

Jaques,}      rigo. 

Roderigo,  rival  to  Pedro,  Captain 
of  the  Out-laws. 

A  Gentleman,  of  the  Country. 

Courtiers. 

Porter. 


Keepers, 

3  Gentlemen. 

4  Peasants. 

A  Scholar,  \ 

A  Parson.  I  **•    , 

A     E<     7-V          r  Madmen. 
An  Englishman i 

Jenkin,  I 

Fool. 


WOMEN. 

to 


Alphonso, 


Alinda,    Daughter 

PedroV  Lady. 
Juletta.  AlindaV  Maid,  a  witty  Las  s\ 
Ladies. 


T*he  Scene  Spain. 

The  principal  Aclors  were, 

Joseph  Taylor.  \  (  John  Lowin. 

Nicholas  Toolie.  John   Underwood. 

Robert  Benfield.  j  |  George  Birch. 

John  Thompson.  )  \  James  Horn. 


THE   PILGRIM  ACT  i 


Aftus  Primus.     Scena  Prima. 

Enter  Alphonso,  Curio,  and  Seberto. 

Curio   Olgnior  Alphonso^  ye  are  too  rugged  to  her, 
>^   Believe  too  full  of  harshness. 

Alpb.     Yes,  it  seems  so. 

Seb.     A  Father  of  so  sweet  a  child,  so  happy, 
Fye,  Sir,  so  excellent  in  all  endowments, 
In  blessedness  of  beauty,  such  a  mirror. 

Alph.     She  is  a  fool,  away. 

Seb.     Can  ye  be  angry? 
Can  any  wind  blow  rough,  upon  a  blossom 
So  fair,  and  tender?    Can  a  Fathers  nature, 
A  noble  Fathers  too? 

Alp.     All  this  is  but  prating: 
Let  her  be  rul'd;    let  her  observe  my  humour, 
With  my  eyes  let  her  see;    with  my  ears  listen; 
I  am  her  Father  :    I  begot  her,  bred  her,  \  >/ 
And  I  will  make  her  — 

Cur.     No  doubt  ye  may  compel  her, 
But  what  a  mischievous,  unhappy  fortune 
May  wait  upon  this  will  of  yours,  as  commonly 
Such  forcings  ever  end  in  hates  and  ruines. 

Alph.     Is't  not  a  man  I  wish  her  to?    a  strong  man? 
What  can  she  have?   what  could  she  have?   a  Gentleman? 
A  young  man  ?    and  an  able  man  ?   a  rich  man  ? 
A  handsome  man?   a  valiant  man?    do  you  mark  me? 
None  of  your  pieced-companions,  your  pin'd-Gallants, 
That  flie  to  fitters,  with  every  flaw  of  weather: 
None  of  your  impt  bravadoes:    what  can  she  ask  more? 
Is  not  a  metal'd  man  fit  for  a  woman? 
A  strong  chin'd-man?   Fie  not  be  fool'd,  nor  flurted. 

Seb.     I  grant  ye  Roderigo  is  all  these, 
And  a  brave  Gentleman:    must  it  therefore  follow 
Upon  necessity  she  must  doat  upon  him? 
Will  ye  allow  no  liberty  in  choosing? 

Cur.     Alas  she  is  tender  yet. 

Alp.     Enough,  enough,  enough,  Sir: 
She  is  malleable:    she'll  endure  the  hammer, 


Sc.  i  THE    PILGRIM 

And  why  not  that  strong  workman  that  strikes  deepest? 
Let  me  know  that!    she  is  fifteen,  with  the  vantage, 
And  if  she  be  not  ready  now  for  mannage — 

Seb.     You  know  he  is  a  banish'd  man:    an  Out-law; 
And  how  he  lives:    his  nature  rough,  and  bloody 
By  customary  Rapines:    now,  her  sweet  humour 
That  is  as  easie  as  a  calm,  and  peaceful, 
All  her  affections,  like  the  dews  on  Roses, 
Fair  as  the  flowers  themselves:    as  sweet  and  gentle: 
How  would  you  have  these  meet? 

Alp.     A  bed,  a  bed,  Sir: 

Let  her  be  the  fairest  Rose,  and  the  sweetest, 
Yet  I  know  this  fair  Rose  must  have  her  prickles: 
I  grant  ye  Roderigo  is  an  out-Law. 
An  easie  composition  calls  him  in  again, 
He  is  a  valiant  man,  and  he  is  a  rich  man, 
And  loves  the  fool:    a  little  rough  by  custom: 
She'l  like  him  ten  times  better.     She'l  doat  upon  him, 
If  ere  they  come  to  grapling,  run  mad  for  him; 
But  there  is  another  in  the  wind,  some  Castrel 
That  hovers  over  her,  and  dares  her  daily, 
Some  flickring  slave. 

Cur.     I  dare  not  think  so  poorly. 

Alp.    Something  there  is,  and  must  be :  but  I  shall  scent  it 
And  hunt  it  narrowly. 

Seb.     I  never  saw  her  yet 
Make  offer  at  the  least  glance  of  affection, 
But  still  so  modest,  wise — 

Alp.     They  are  wise  to  gull  us. 
There  was  a  fellow,  old  Ferandtfs  son, 
I  must  confess  handsome,  but  my  enemy, 
And  the  whole  family  I  hate:    young 
That  fellow  I  have  seen  her  gaze  upon, 
And  turn,  and  gaze  again,  and  make  such  offers, 
As  if  she  would  shoot  her  eyes  like  Meteors  at  him : 
But  that  cause  stands  removed. 

Cur.     You  need  not  doubt  him, 

For  long  since  as  'twas  thought  on  a  griev'd  Conscience, 
He  left  his  Father,  and  his  Friends:    more  pity: 
For  truth  reports  he  was  a  noble  Gentleman. 

155 


THE    PILGRIM  ACT  i 

Alp.     Let  him  be  what  he  will:    he  was  a  beggar, 
And  there  Tie  leave  him. 

Seb.     The  more  the  Court  must  answer; 
But  certainly  I  think,  though  she  might  favour  him, 
And  love  his  goodness,  as  he  was  an  honest  man: 
She  never  with  loose  eyes  stuck  on  his  person/^ 

Alp.     She  is  so  full  of  Conscience  too,  and  charity, 
And  outward  holiness,  she  will  undo  me: 
Relieves  more  Beggars,  than  an  Hospital ; 

Enter  Alinda,  and  Juletta. 

And  all  poor  Rogues,  that  can  but  say  their  prayers, 

And  tune  their  pipes  to  Lamentations, 

She  thinks  she  is  bound  to  dance  to:    good   morrow  to  you, 

And  that's  as  ye  deserve  too:    you  know  my  mind, 

And  study  to  observe  it:    do  it  cheerfully, 

And  readily,  and  home. 

Aim.     I  shall  obey  ye. 
But,  noble  Sir. 

Alp.     Come,  come,  away  with  your  flatteries, 
And  your  fine  phrases. 

Cur.     Pray  ye  be  gentle  to  her. 

Alp.    I  know  'em ;  and  know  your  feats :  if  you  will  find  me 
Noble  and  loving,  seek  me  in  your  duty, 
You  know  I  am  too  indulgent. 

Seb.     Alas,  poor  Lady. 

Alp.    To  your  devotions:   I  take  no  good  thing  from  you. 
Come  Gentlemen;    leave  pitying,  and  moaning  of  her 
And  praising  of  her  vertues:    and  her  whim-whams, 
It  makes  her  proud,  and  sturdy. 

Seb.  Cur.     Good  hours  wait  on  ye.  [Exeunt. 

Alin.     I  thank  ye,  Gentlemen:    I  want  such  comforts: 
I  would  thank  you  too  Father:    but  your  cruelty 
Hath  almost  made  me  senseless  of  my  duty, 
Yet  still  I  must  know:    would  I  had  known  nothing. 
What  Poor  attend  my  charity  to  day,  wench? 

yul.     Of  all  sorts,  Madam ;    your  open  handed  bounty 
Make's  'em  flock  every  hour:    some  worth  your  pity, 
But  others  that  have  made  a  trade  of  begging. 

Alin.     Wench,  if  they  ask  it  truly,  I  must  give  it: 

156 


Sc.  i  THE   PILGRIM 

It  takes  away  the  holy  use  of  charity 
To  examine  wants. 

Jul.     I  would  you  would  be  merry: 
A  cheerful  giving  hand,  as  I  think,  Madam, 
Requires  a  heart  as  chearful. 

Aim.     Alas  Juletta, 

What  is  there  to  be  merry  at?   what  joy  now, 
Unless  we  fool  our  own  afflictions, 
And  make  them  shew  ridiculous? 

Jul.     Sure,  Madam, 

You  could  not  seem  thus  serious,  if  you  were  married, 
Thus  sad,  and  full  of  thoughts. 

Aim.     Married?    to  whom,  wench? 
Thou  thinkst  if  there  be  a  young  handsome  fellow, 
As  those  are  plentiful,  our  cares  are  quenched  then. 

Jul.     Madam,  I  think  a  lusty  handsome  fellow 
If  he  be  kind,  and  loving,  and  a  right  one, 
Is  even  as  good  a  Pill,  to  purge  this  melancholy, 
As  ever  Galen  gave,  I  am  sure  more  natural: 
And  merrier  for  the  heart,  than  Wine  and  Saffron: 
Madam,  wanton  youth  is  such  a  Cataplasme. 

Aim.     Who  has  been  thy  Tutor,  Wench  ? 

Jul.     Even  my  own  thoughts,  Lady: 
For  though  I  be  bar'd  the  liberty  of  talking, 
Yet  I  can  think  unhappily,  and  as  near  the  mark,  Madam, 
'Faith,  marry,  and  be  merry. 

Aim.     Who  will  have  me? 
Who  will  be  troubled  with  a  pettish  Girl? 
It  may  be  proud,  and  to  that  vice  expenceful? 
Who  can  assure  himself,  I  shall  live  honest? 

Jul.     Let  every  man  take  his  fortune. 

Aim.     And  o'  my  Conscience 
If  once  I  grow  to  breeding,  a  whole  Kingdom 
Will  not  contain  my  stock. 

Jul.     The  more  the  merrier : 
'Tis  brave  to  be  a  mother  of  new  Nations. 

\\Alin.     Why,  I  should  bury  a  hundred  Husbands. 


Jul.     'Tis  no  matter! 
lone  as  ve 


As  long  as  ye  leave  sufficient  men  to  stock  ye. 

Aim.     Is  this  thy  mirth  ?  are  these  the  joyes  of  marriage  ? 

'57 


THE    PILGRIM  ACT  i 

Away  light-headed  fool;    are  these  contentments? 
If  I  could  find  a  man — 

Jul.     You  may  a  thousand. 

Aim.     Meer  men  I  know  I  may:    and  there  a  Woman 
Has  liberty,  (at  least  she'l  venture  for  it) 
To  be  a  monster  and  become  the  time  too; 
But  to  enjoy  a  man,  from  whose  example 
(As  from  a  compass)  we  may  steer  our  fortunes, 
Our  actions,  and  our  age;    and  safe  arrive  at 
A  memory  that  shall  become  our  ashes, 
Such  things  are  few,  and  far  to  seek;    to  find  one 
That  can  but  rightly  mannage  the  wild  beast,  Woman, 
And  sweetly  govern  with  her.    But  no  more  of  this,  Wench, 
'Tis  not  for  thy  discourse :    Let's  in,  and  see 
What  poor  afflidted  wait  our  charity.  [Exeunt. 

SCENE   II. 

Enter  a  Porter,  4  Beggers,  Pedro,  and  a  Pilgrim. 

Par.    Stand  off,  and  keep  your  ranks :  twenty  foot  further : 
There  louse  your  selves  with  reason  and  discretion. 
The  Sun  shines  warm :  the  farther  still  the  better, 
Your  beasts  will  bolt  anon,  and  then  'tis  dangerous. 

1  Beg.     Heaven  bless  our  Mistris. 
Por.     Does  the  crack  go  that  way? 

'Twill  be  o'th'  other  side  anon. 

2  Beg.     Pray  ye  friend.  (coat 
Por.   Your  friend  ?  and  why  your  friend  ?  why  goodman  turn- 

What  dost  thou  see  within  me,  or  without  me, 
Or  what  itch  dost  thou  know  upon  me,  tell  me, 
That  I  should  be  thy  friend?   what  do  I  look  like 
Any  of  thy  acquaintance  hung  in  Gibbets? 
Hast  thou  any  Friends,  Kindred,  or  Alliance, 
Or  any  higher  ambition,  than  an  Alms-basket? 

2  Beg.     I  would  be  your  worships  friend. 
Por.     So  ye  shall,  Sirrah, 

When  I  quarter  the  same  louse  with  ye. 

3  Beg.     'Tis  twelve  o'clock. 

Por.    'Tis  ever  so  with  thee,  when  thou  hast  done  scratching, 
For  that  provokes  thy  stomach  to  ring  noon; 

158 


Sc.  ii  THE    PILGRIM 

O  the  infinite  Seas  of  Porridge  thou  hast  swallow'd! 
And  yet  thou  lookst  as  if  they  had  been  but  Clysters; 
Thou  feedst  abundance,  thou  hadst  need  of  sustenance; 
Alms  do  you  call  it  to  relieve  these  Rascals? 

Enter  Alphonso,  Curio,  and  Seberto. 

Nothing  but  a  general  rot  of  sheep  can  satisfie  'em. 

Alp.     Did  not  I  tell  you,  how  she  would  undo  me? 
What  Marts  of  Rogues,  and  Beggers ! 

Seb.     'Tis  charity 
Methinks,  you  are  bound  to  love  her  for — 

Alp.     Yes,  I  warrant  ye, 

If  men  could  sale  to  Heaven  in  Porridge-pots,  (make! 

With  masts  of  Beef,  and  Mutton,  what  a  Voyage  should  I 
What  are  all  these? 

i  Beg.     Poor  people,  and  't  like  your  worship. 

[2]  Beg.     Wretched  poor  people. 

3  Beg.     Very  hungry  people. 
Alp.     And  very  Lousy. 

4  Beg.     Yes  forsooth,  so,  so. 

For.     Fie  undertake  five  hundred  head  about  'em, 
And  that's  no  needy  Grasier. 

Alp.     What  are  you? 

Pil.     Strangers  that  come  to  wonder  at  your  charity, 
Yet  people  poor  enough  to  beg  a  blessing. 

Cur.     Use  them  with  favour,  Sir,  their  shews  are  reverent, 
It  seems  ye  are  holy  Pilgrimsl 

Pi/.     Ye  guess  right,  Sir, 
And  bound  far  off,  to  offer  our  devotions. 

Alp.     What  make  ye  this  way?  we  keep  no  Reliques  here, 
Nor  holy  Shrines. 

Pil.     The  holiest  we  ere  heard  of; 
Ye  keep  a  living  monument  of  goodness, 
A  Daughter  of  that  pious  excellence, 
The  very  Shrines  of  Saints  sink  at  her  vertues, 
And  swear  they  cannot  hold  pace  with  her  pieties, 
We  come  to  see  this  Lady:    not  with  prophane  eyes, 
Nor  wanton  bloods,  to  doat  upon  her  beauties, 
But  through  our  tedious  wayes  to  beg  her  blessings. 

Alp.     This  is  a  new  way  of  begging,  and  a  neat  one, 

J59 


THE    PILGRIM  ACT  i 

And  this  cries  mony  for  reward,  good  store  too; 
These  commendations  beg  not  with  bag,  and  bottle; 
Well,  well,  the  Sainting  of  this  Woman,  Gentlemen, 
I  know  what  it  must  come  to:    these  Women  Saints 
Are  plaguy  heavy  Saints:    they  out-weigh  a  he-saint 
Three  thousand  thick;    I  know:    I  feel. 

Seb.     Ye  are  more  afraid  than  hurt,  Sir. 

Alp.     Have  you  your  commendations  ready  too? 
He  bows,  and  nods. 

Cur.     A  handsome  well  built  person. 

Alp.    What  Country-craver  are  you  ?  nothing  but  motion  ? 
A  puppet-Pilgrim? 

Pil.     He's  a  stranger,  Sir; 

This  four  days  I  have  TravePd  in  his  Company, 
But  little  of  his  business,  or  his  Language 
As  yet  I  have  understood. 

Seb.     Both  young  and  handsome, 
Only  the  Sun  has  been  too  saucy  with  him.  (blessing 

Alp.    Would  ye  have  mony,  Sir,  or  meat?  what  kind  of 
Does  your  devotion  look  for?    Still  more  ducking? 
Be  there  any  Saints,  that  understand  by  signs  only? 
More  motion  yet?   this  is  the  prettiest  Pilgrim, 
The  pink  of  Pilgrims:    I'le  be  for  ye,  Sir; 
Do  ye  discourse  with  signs?    ye  are  heartily  welcome: 
A  poor  viaticum;   very  good  gold,  Sir: 
But  holy  men  affect  a  better  treasure. 
I  kept  it  for  your  goodness,  but  ne'rtheless 
Since  it  can  prove  but  burthensome  to  your  holiness, 
And  that  you  affe6l  light  prayer,  fit  for  carriage, 
Fie  put  this  up  again. 

Cur.     Ye  are  too  unreverent. 

Alp.     Ye  talk  too  broad !  must  I  give  way,  and  wealth  too 
To  every  toy,  that  carries  a  grave  seeming? 
Must  my  good  Angels  wait  on  him?    if  the  proud  hilding 
Would  yield  but  to  my  will,  and  know  her  duty 
I  know  what  I  would  suffer. 

Seb.     Good  Sir,  be  patient, 

The  wrongs  ye  do  these  men,  may  light  on  you, 
Too  heavy  too:    and  then  you  will  wish  you  had  said  less; 
A  comely  an4  sweet  usage  becomes  strangers, 
1 60 


Sc.  ii  THE   PILGRIM 

Alp.     We  shall  have  half  the  Kingdom  strangers  shortly, 
And  this  fond  prodigality  be  suffer'd; 
But  I  must  be  an  Ass,  see  'em  relieved,  sirrah ; 
If  I  were  young  again,  I  would  sooner  get  Bear-whelps, 
And  safer  too,  than  any  of  these  she-saints, 
But  I  will  break  her. 

Cur.     Such  a  face  for  certain. 

Seb.    Me  thinks  I  have  seen  it  too:  but  we  are  cozen'd; 
But  fair  befal  thee  Pilgrim,  thou  lookst  lovely.  [Exit. 

Por.     Will  ye  troop  up,  ye  Porridge  Regiment? 

Enter  Alinda,  and  Juletta. 

Captain  Poors  quarter  will  ye  move? 

Aim.     Ye  dull  Knave, 
Are  not  these  wretches  served  yet? 

Beg.     'Bless  my  Mistris. 

Alin.     Do  you  make  sport,  Sir,  with  their  miseries? 
Ye  drousie  Rogue. 

Por.     They  are  too  high  fed,  Madam, 
Their  stomachs  are  a  sleep  yet. 

Aim.     Serve  'em  plentifully, 

Or  I'le  serve  you  out  next :    even  out  o'  doors,  sirrah ; 
And  serve  'em  quickly  too. 

Beg.     Heaven  bless  the  Lady. 

Alin.     Bless  the  good  end  I  mean  it  for. 

Jul.     I  would  I  knew  it: 

If  it  be  for  any  mans  sake,  I'le  cry  Amen  too. 
Well,  Madam,  ye  have  even  as  pretty  a  port  of  Pensioners. 

Alin.     Vain-glory  would  seek  more,  and  handsomer. 
But  I  appeal  to  vertue  what  my  end  is ;  [Ex.  Beggers. 

What  men  are  these? 

Jul.     It  seems  they  are  holy  Pilgrims: 
That  handsome  youth  should  suffer  such  a  penance, 
Would  I  were  even  the  Saint  they  make  their  vowes  to, 
How  easily  I  would  grant! 

Pil.     Heavens  grace  in-wheel  ye: 
And  all  good  thoughts,  and  prayers  dwell  about  ye, 
Abundance  be  your  friend;    and  holy  charity 
Be  ever  at  your  hand  to  crown  ye  glorious. 

Alin.     I  thank  ye,  Sir;    peace  guide  your  travels  too, 

B.-F.  V.  L  l6l 


THE   PILGRIM  ACT  i 

And  what  you  wish  for  most,  end  all  your  troubles; 

Remember  me  by  this:    and  in  your  prayers 

When  your  strong  heart  melts,  meditate  my  poor  fortunes. 

Pil.     All  my  Devotions  wait  upon  your  service. 

Aim.     Are  you  of  this  Country,  Sir? 

Pil.     Yes,  worthiest  Lady, 
But  far  off  bred;    my  Fortunes  farther  from  me. 

Aim.     Gentle,  I  dare  believe. 

Pil.     I  have  liv'd  freer. 

A  I'm.     I  am  no  inquisitor,  that  were  too  curious; 
Whatever  Vow,  or  Penance  pulls  you  on,  Sir; 
Conscience,  or  Love,  or  stubborn  Disobedience, 
The  Saint  ye  kneel  to,  hear,  and  ease  your  travels. 

Pil.     Yours  ne'r  begin ;    and  thus  I  seal  my  Prayers. 

[Exit. 

Aim.     How  constantly  this  man  looks!    how  he  sighs! 
Some  great  affliction  hatches  his  Devotions, 
Right  holy  Sir,  how  young,  and  sweet  he  suffers! 

Jut.     Would  I  might  suffer  with  him. 

Aim.     He  turns  from  us; 
Alas,  he  weeps  too;    something  presses  him 
He  would  reveal,  but  dare  not;    Sir,  be  comforted, 
Ye  come  for  that;  and  take  it;  if  it  be  want,  Sir, 
To  me  ye  appear  so  worthy  of  relieving, 
I  am  your  Steward;    Speak,  and  take;    he's  dumb  still; 
Now  as  I  have  a  faith,  this  man  so  stirs  me, 
His  modesty  makes  me  afraid  I  have  trespassed. 

Jul.     Would  he  wou'd  stir  me  too,  I  like  his  shape  well. 

Aim.     May  be  he  would  speak  alone;    go  off,  JulettOy 
Afflicted  hearts  fear  their  own  motions. 
Be  not  far  off. 

Jul.     Would  I  were  nearer  to  him, 
A  young  smug  handsom  holiness  has  no  fellow.  [Exit. 

Al.    Why  do  you  grieve  ?  do  you  find  your  penance  sharp  ? 
Or  are  the  vows  ye've  made  too  mighty  for  ye? 
Does  not  the  World  allure  ye  to  look  back, 
And  sorrow  for  the  sweet  time  ye  have  lost? 
Ye  are  young,  and  fair;  be  not  deluded,  Sir, 
A  manly  made-up  heart  contemns  these  shadows, 
And  yours  appear  no  less,  griefs  for  your  fears, 

162 


Sc.  ii  THE    PILGRIM 

For  hours  ill-spent,  for  wrongs  done  rash,  and  rudely, 
For  foul  contempts,  for  faiths  ill  violated, 
Become  fears  well;    I  dare  not  task  your  goodness; 
And  then  a  sorrow  shews  in  his  true  glory, 
j  i  When  the  whole  heart  is  excellently  sorry, 
I  pray  ye  be  comforted. 

Ped.     I  am,  dear  Lady, 
And  such  a  comfort  ye  have  cast  upon  me, 
That  though  I  struggle  with  mine  own  cal[a]mities 
Too  mighty,  -and  too  many  for  my  mannage, 
And  though,  like  angry  waves,  they  curPd  upon  me, 
Contending  proudly  who  should  first  devour  me, 
Yet  I  would  stem  their  danger. 

Aim.     He  speaks  nobly; 
What  do  you  want? 

Ped.     All  that  can  make  me  happy; 
I  want  my  self. 

Aim.     Your  self?   who  rob'd  ye,  Pilgrim? 
Why  does  he  look  so  constantly  upon  me? 
/  want  my  self;    indeed,  ye  holy  Wanderers 
Are  said  to  seek  much,  but  to  seek  your  selves — 

Ped.     I  seek  my  self,  and  am  but  my  selfs  shadow, 
'Have  lost  my  self;  and  now  am  not  so  noble. 

Aim.     I  seek  my  self-,   something  I  yet  remember 
That  bears  that  Motto;    'tis  not  he,  he's  younger, 
And  far  more  tender;    for  that  self-sake  (Pilgrim) 
Be  who  it  will,  take  this. 

Ped.     Your  hand  I  dare  take, 
That  be  far  from  me,  Lady,  thus  I  kiss  it, 
And  thus  I  bless  it  too;    Be  constant  fair  still, 
Be  good,  and  live  to  be  a  great  example.  [Exit. 

Aim.     One  word  more  (Pilgrim)  has  amaz'd  me  strangly, 
Be  constant  fair  still-,    'tis  the  Posie  here; 
And  here  without,  Be  good-,    he  wept  to  see  me.     Juletta. 

Enter  Juletta. 

Jul.     Madam. 

All*.     Take  this  Key,  and  fetch  me 
The  marygold- Jewel  that  lies  in  my  little  Cabinet; 
I  think  'tis  that;   what  eyes  had  I  to  miss  him?      [Ex.  Jul. 

L2  163 


THE   PILGRIM  ACT  n 

0  me,  what  thoughts?   he  had  no  beard  then,  and 
As  I  remember  well,  he  was  more  ruddy. 

Enter  Juletta. 

If  this  be  he,  he  has  a  manly  face  yet, 
A  goodly  shape. 

Jul.     Here  Madam. 

Aim.     Let  me  see  it; 
'Tis  so  true,  it  must  be  he,  or  nothing, 
He  spake  the  words  just  as  they  stand  engraven  here: 

1  seek  my  self,  and  am  but  my  selfs  shadow; 
Alas,  poor  man!    didst  thou  not  meet  him,  Julettal 
The  Pilgrim,  Wench? 

Jul.     He  went  by  long  ago,  Madam. 

Aim.     I  forgot  to  give  him  something. 

Jul     'Twas  ill  done,  Lady; 
For  o'  my  troth,  he  is  the  handsomest  man 
I  saw  this  many  a  day;   would  he  had  all  my  wealth, 
And  me  to  boot;   what  ails  she  to  grow  so  sullen? 

Aim.     Come,  I  forgot,  but  I  will  recompence  it. 

[Exeunt. 

Affus  Secundus.     Scena  Prima. 

Enter  Alphonso,  Curio,  Seberto,  Juletta, 
Porter,  and  Servants. 

(solve  me; 

Alph.    /~^AN  she  slip  through  a  Cat-hole?  tell  me  that;  re- 
V^/  Can  she  flye  in  the  air?  is  she  a  thing  invisible? 
Gone,  and  none  know  it! 

Seb.     You  amaze  your  servants.  (ing, 

Alph.    Some  pelting  Rogue  has  watcht  her  hour  of  itch- 

And  claw'd  her,  claw'd  her,  do  you  mark  me?   claw'd  her; 

Some  that  I  foster  up. 

Cur.     They  are  all  here,  Sir. 

Alph.    Let  'em  be  where  they  will,  they  are  arrant  Rascals, 
And  by  this  hand,  I'll  hang  all. 

Seb.     Deal  calmly; 
You  will  not  give  'em  time  to  answer  ye. 

Al    I'll  choak  'em,  famish  'em,  what  say  you,  Wagtail? 

164 


Sc.  i 


THE   PILGRIM 


You  knew  her  mind;   you  were  of  counsel  with  her, 
Tell  me,  and  tell  me  true. 

Cur.     Ask  with  discretion. 

Alpb.     Discretion  ?   hang  discretion,  hang  ye  all  : 
Let  me  know  where  she  is. 

Jul.     Would  you  know  o'  me,  Sir? 

AL     O'  thee,  Sir?   I,  o'  thee,  Sir;   what  art  thou  Sir? 

Jul.     Her  woman,  Sir,  and't  like  your  Worship,  Sir. 

Alpb.     Her  Bawd,  her  Fiddle-stick; 
Her  Lady-fairy,  to  oyl  the  doors  o'  nights, 
That  they  may  open  with  discretion, 
Her  Gin,  her  Nut-Crack. 

Jul.     'Tis  very  well,  Sir. 

Alpb.     Thou  lyest;  'tis  damnable  ill,  'tis  most  abominable; 
Will  ye  confess  (Thing  ?) 

Jul.     Say  I  were  guilty,  Sir; 
I  would  be  hang'd  before  I  would  confess; 
Is  this  a  World  to  confess  in? 

Cur.     Deal  direftly. 

Jul.     Yes,  if  my  matter  lye  direct  before  me; 
But  when  I  am  forc'd,  and  ferretted. 

Alph.     Tell  me  the  truth, 
And  as  I  live,  I'll  give  thee  a  new  Petticoat. 

Jul.     And  you  would  give  me  ten,  I  would  not  tell  ye, 
Truths  bear  a  greater  price  than  you  are  aware  of. 

Seb.     Deal  modestly. 

Jul.     I  do  not  pluck  my  Cloaths  up. 

A  1.    What  say  you,  Sirrah?  you?  or  you?  are  ye  dumb  all? 

Port.    I  saw  her  last  night,  and't  shall  like  your  Worship, 
WJjen  I  serv'd  in  her  Livery. 
What's  that,  Sirrah? 
Her  Chamber-pot,  and't  please  you. 
A  new  Livery. 
Where  lay  she?   who  lay  with  her? 

Port.     In  truth,  not  I,  Sir; 
I  lay  with  my  fellow  Frederick  in  the  flea-Chamber, 
And't  like  your  Worship,  we  are  almost  worried. 

7ul.     I  left  her  by  her  self,  in  her  own  Closet, 
there  I  thought  she  had  slept. 
Alph.     Why  lay  you  from  her? 

165 


Port. 

Seb. 

Alph. 


THE   PILGRIM  ACT  n 

7uL     It  was  her  will  I  should;   she  is  my  Mistriss, 
my  part  is  obedience. 

Alpb.     Were  all  the  doors  lock'd? 

Port.     All  mine. 

Ser.     And  mine;   she  could  not  get  out  those  ways 
Unless  she  leapt  the  walls;    and  those  are  higher 
Than  any  Womans  courage  dare  aspire  at. 

Alpb.     Come,  you  must  know. 

Cur.     Conceal  it  not,  but  deal  plain. 

Jul.     If  I  did  know,  and  her  trust  lay  upon  me, 
Not  all  your  angers  nor  your  flatteries 
Should  make  me  speak,  but  having  no  more  interest 
Than  I  may  well  deliver  to  the  air, 
I'll  tell  ye  what  I  know,  and  tell  it  liberally, 
I  think  she  is  gone,  because  we  cannot  find  her; 
I  think  she  is  weary  of  your  tyranny, 
And  therefore  gone;    may  be  she  is  in  love; 
May  be  in  love,  where  you  show  no  great  liking, 
And  therefore  gone;    May  be  some  point  of  Conscience, 
Or  vow'd  Devotion. 

Alpb.     These  are  nothing,  minion; 
You  that  can  aim  at  these,  must  know  the  truth  too. 

Jul.     Any  more  truth  than  this  if  I  know,  hang  me, 
Or  where  to  search  for  it,  if  I  make  a  lye 
To  gain  your  love,  and  envy  my  best  Mistriss, 
Pin  me  against  a  wall  with  my  heels  upward. 

Alpb.     Out  of  my  doors. 

Jul.     That's  all  my  poor  petition; 
For  if  your  house  were  Gold,  and  she  not  in  it, 
Sir,  I  should  count  it  but  a  Cage  to  whistle  in. 

Alpb.     Whore,  if  she  be  above  ground,  I  will  have  her. 

Jul.    I  would  live  in  a  Coal-pit  then,  were  I  your  daughter. 

Seb.     Certain  she  does  not  know,  Sir. 

Alpb.     Hang  her,  hang  her; 

She  knows  too  much;   search  all  the  house,  all  corners, 
And  where  'tis  possible  she  may  go  out,  [Ex.  Servants. 

If  I  do  find  your  tricks. 

Jul.     Reward  me  for  'em. 
Or  if  I  had  such  tricks,  you  could  discover 
So  weak,  and  sleightly  woven,  you  might  look  through, 

1 66 


Sc.  i  THE   PILGRIM 

All  the  young  Girls  should  hoot  me  out  o'  th*  Parish ; 
You  are  my  Master,  but  you  own  an  anger 
Becomes  a  School-Boy  that  hath  lost  his  Apples; 
Will  ye  force  things  into  our  knowledges? 

Alph.     Come  hither,  Juletta,  thou  didst  love  me. 

Jul     And  do  stil[l], 
You  are  my  Ladies  Father,  and  I  reverence  ye. 

Alph.     Thou  would'st  have  pleas'd  my  humour. 

Jul.     Any  good  way, 
That  carried  not  suspicion  in't,  or  flattery, 
Or  fail  of  trust. 

Alph.     Come,  come,  thou  wouldst  have — 

Jul.     Stay,  Sir. 

Alph.    And  thou  hast  felt  my  bounty  for't,  and  shalt  do. 
Dost  thou  want  Cloaths  or  Money? 

Jul.     Both. 

Alpb.     'Shalt  have  both. 

Jul.     But  not  this  way,  I  had  rather  be  an  Adamite, 
And  bring  Fig-tree  leaves  into  fashion  again. 
If  you  were  young,  Sir, 

Handsome,  and  fitted  to  a  Womans  appetite; 
And  I  a  giddy-headed  Girl,  that  car'd  for  nothing, 
Much  might  be  done;    then  you  might  fumble  with  me, 
And  think  to  grope  out  matters  of  some  moment, 
Which  now  you  will  put  too  short  for; 
For  what  you  have  seen  hitherto 
And  know  by  me,  has  been  but  honest  service, 
Which  I  dare  pin  i'th*  market-place  to  answer; 
And  let  the  World,  the  Flesh,  and  Devil  examine  it, 
And  come  you  in  too,  I  dare  stand  your  strictest. 
And  so  much  good  may  do  you,  with  your  dreams  of  cour- 

Alph.     This  is  most  monstrous.  (tesie. 

Enter  Porter,  and  Servants. 

Seb.     Sure  she  does  not  know,  Sir; 
She  durst  not  be  so  confident,  and  guilty.  (covered? 

Alph.    How  now,  what  news  ?  what  hopes  and  steps  dis- 
Speak  any  thing  that's  good,  that  tends  to  th*  matter; 
Do  you  stand  staring  still? 

I  Serv.     We  are  no  gods,  Sir, 


THE   PILGRIM  ACT  n 

To  say  she  is  here  or  there,  or  what  she  is  doing; 
But  we  have  searched. 

Port.     I  am  sure  she  is  not  i'th'  Cellar; 
For  look  you,  Sir,  if  she  had  been  i'th*  Cellar — 

Alpb.     I  am  sure  thou  hast  been  there. 

Port.     As  I  carried  the  matter, 
For  I  searched  every  piece  of  Wine;  yes  sure,  Sir, 
And  every  little  Terse,  that  could  but  testifie; 
And  I  drew  hard  to  bolt  her  out. 

Alph.     Away  with  him; 

Fling  him  i'th'  Hay-mow,  let  him  lye  a  mellowing; 
He  stinks  of  Muskadel  like  an  English  Christmas', 
Are  these  your  cares?   your  services? 

2  Serv.     Pray  ye  hear,  Sir, 
We  have  found  where  she  went  out,  her  very  footing. 

Alph.     Where,  where?    go  on. 

Cur.     Observe  then  with  more  stayedness. 

2  Ser.     Searching  the  Garden  at  tHe" little  Postern 
That  opens  to  the  Park,  we  first  discovered  it. 

Alph.     A  little  foot? 

i  Serv.     It  must  be  hers,  or  none,  Sir. 

Alph.     How  far  beyond  that? 

I  Serv.     To  the  Park  it  leads  us, 
But  there  the  ground  being  hard,  we  could  not  mark  it. 

Alph.     She  always  kept  that  Key;    I  was  a  Coxcomb, 
A  Fool,  an  Ass,  to  give  a  Girl  that  liberty; 
Saddle  my  Horses,  Rogues,  ye  drunken  Varlets, 
Your  precious  diligence  lies  in  Pint-pots, 
Your  Brains  in  Butts,  my  Horses,  ye  pin-Buttocks. 
You'll  bear  me  Company? 

Seb.     We  dare  not  leave  ye, 
Unless  we  found  a  quieter  soul  within  ye. 

Cur.     If  we  may  do  the  Lady  any  service, 
Sweet,  gentle  Soul. 

Alph.     I  say  again,  my  horses, 
Are  ye  so  hot?   have  ye  your  private  Pilgrimages? 
Must  ye  be  jumping,  Joan?  I'll  wander  with  ye; 
I'll  jump  ye,  and  I'll  juggle  ye,  my  horses; 
And  keep  me  this  young  Lirry-poop  within  doors, 
I  will  discover,  Dame. 

168 


Sc.  ii  THE   PILGRIM 

JuL     'Tis  fit  you  should,  Sir, 

If  ye  knew  what;    well  Love,  if  thou  beest  with  her, 
Or  what  power  else  that  arms  her  resolution, 
Conduct  her  fair,  and  keep  her  from  this  mad-man, 
Direct  her  to  her  wishes;    dwell  about  her, 
That  no  dishonourable  end  o'rtake  her, 
Danger,  or  want;    and  let  me  try  my  fortune. 

Alph.     You  know  the  place  we  meet  in? 

Seb.     We  shall  hit  it. 

Alph.     And  as  ye  are  honest  Gentlemen,  endeavour. 

Cur.    We'l  search  the  best  we  can ;  if  she  light  in  our  hands. 
Lfilph.     I'll  tye  her  to  the  horse-tail. 

Seb.     We  know  how  to  use  her, 
But  not  your  way,  for  all  your  state. 

Alph.     Make  haste  there;  (Damsel, 

And  get  you  in,  and  look  to   th'    house.     If   you   stir   out, 
Or  set  a  foot  any  new  motion  this  way, 
When  I  come  home  (which  will  be  suddenly) 
You  know  my  mind ;    if  you  do  play  the  Rascal, 
I  have  my  eyes  and  ears  in  sundry  places, 
If  ye  do  praunce. 

JuL     I  shall  do  that  that's  fit,  Sir; 
And  fit  to  cross  your  fooleries;    I'll  fail  else: 
And  so  I'll  to  my  Chamber.  [Exit. 

Alph.     To  your  Prayers, 

And  leave  your  stubborn  tricks ;   she  is  not  far  yet, 
She  cannot  be,  and  we  dividing  suddenly. 

Cur.     Keep  her  from  thy  hands,  I  beseech. 

Alph.     Our  horses; 
Come  chearfully.     I'll  teach  her  to  run  gadding.        [Exeunt. 

SCENE   II. 

Enter  Roderigo,  and  four  Out-Laws. 

1  Out-law.     Captain,  y'are  not  merry. 
Rod.     We  get  nothing, 

We  have  no  sport;    whoring  and  drinking  spoils  us, 
We  keep  no  Guards. 

2  Out-law.     There  come  no  Passengers, 
Merchants,  nor  Gentlemen,  nor  whosoever, 

169 


THE   PILGRIM  ACT  n 

But  we  have  tribute. 

Rod.     And  whilst  we  spend  that  idlely, 
We  let  those  pass  that  carry  the  best  purchase. 
I'll  have  all  searched,  and  brought  in :   Rogues,  and  Beggars, 
Have  got  the  trick  now  to  become  Bank-masters. 
I'll  have  none  scape;    only  my  friends  and  neighbours, 
That  may  deliver  to  the  King  my  innocence; 
Those  I  would  have  regarded;    'tis  policy. 
But  otherwise  nor  gravities,  nor  shadows, 
Appear  they  how  they  will,  they  may  have  purses, 
For  they  shall  pay. 

3  Out-law.     You  speak  now  like  a  Captain. 
And  if  we  spare,  fley us,  and  coin  our  Cassocks, 
Will  ye  look  blith?/ 

Rod.     You  hear  no  preparation 
The  King  intends  against  us  yet? 

4  Out-law.     Not  a  word,  Sir, 

Good  man,  he's  troubled  with  matter  of  more  moment, 
Hummings  of  higher  nature  vex  his  brains,  Sir, 
Do  not  we  see  his  Garrisons? 

Rod.     Who  are  out  now?  (stirring 

4  Out-law.    Good  fellows,  Sir,  that  if  there  be  any  purchase 
Will  strike  it  dead ;    Jaques,  and  Lopez,  Lads, 
That  know  their  Quarters,  as  they  know  their  Knapsacks; 
And  will  not  off. 

Rod.     Where  is  the  Boy  ye  brought  me? 
A  pretty  Lad,  and  of  a  quick  capacity, 
And  bred  up  neatly. 

I  Out-law.     He's  within  at  meat,  Sir, 
The  Knave  is  hungry,  yet  he  seasons  all 
He  eats  or  drinks  with  many  tears  and  sighings, 
The  saddest  appetite  I  ever  lookt  on ; 
The  Boy  is  young,  'tis  fear,  and  want  of  company, 
He  knows,  and  loves;   use  him  not  rough,  and  harshly, 
He  will  be  quickly  bold;    I'll  entertain  him; 
I  want  a  pretty  Boy  to  wait  upon  me, 
And  when  I  am  sad  or  sleepy,  to  prate  to  me ; 
Besides  there's  something  in  his  face  I  like  well. 
And  still  the  more  I  look,  more  like;  let  him  want  nothing, 
And  use  him  gently,  all. 

170 


Sc.  it 


THE    PILGRIM 


2  Out-law.     Here's  a  small  Box,  Sir, 
We  took  about  him,  which  he  griev'd  to  part  with, 
May  be  some  Wealth. 

Rod.     Alas,  some  little  money 
The  poor  Knave  carried  to  defray  his  lodgings, 
I'll  give  it  him  again,  and  add  unto  it. 
'Twere  sin  to  open  such  a  petty  purchase. 

Enter  Lopez,  and  Jaques  with  Pedro. 

How  now,  who  is  this?  what  have  you  brought  me,  Souldiers? 

Lop.     We  know  not  well,  what  a  strange  staving  fellow, 
Sullen  enough  I  am  sure. 

Rod.     Where  took  ye  him? 

7'aq.     Upon  the  Skirt  o'  th'  wood,  viewing,  and  gaping, 
sometime  standing  still,  as  if  he  had  meant 
To  view  the  best  accesses  to  our  quarters; 
Money  he  has  enough;    and  when  we  threatned  him, 
He  smil'd,  and  yielded;    but  not  one  word  utter'd. 

Lop.     His  habit  says  he's  holy,  if  his  heart 
Keep  that  proportion  too,  'tis  best  ye  free  him, 
We  keep  his  wallet  here;    I  am  sure  'tis  heavy. 

Rod.     Pilgrim,  come  hither,  Sir,  are  you  a  Pilgrim? 
A  piece  of  pretty  holiness;    do  you  shrink,  Sir? 
A  smug  young  Saint.     What  Country  were  you  born  in? 
Ye  have  a  Spanish  face;    In  a  dumb  Province? 
And  had  your  Mother  too  this  excellent  Vertue? 
No  tongue  do  you  say?   sure  she  was  a  matchless  woman; 
What  a  fine  family  is  this  man  sprung  from ! 
Certain  he  was  begotten  in  a  Calm, 

When  all  was  hush'd;    the  Midwife  was  dumb  Midnight; 
Are  ye  seal'd  up?  or  do  you  scorn  to  answer? 
Ye  are  in  my  hands,  and  I  have  Medicines  for  ye 
Can  make  ye  speak:    pull  off  his  Bonnet,  Souldiers; 
Ye  have  a  speaking  face. 

Lop.     I  am  sure  a  handsome; 
This  Pilgrim  cannot  want  She-Saints  to  pray  to. 

Rod.     Stand  nearer,  ha? 

Fed.     Come,  do  your  worst,  I  am  ready.  (him; 

Rod.     Is  your  tongue  found?  go  off,  and  let  me  talk  with 
And  keep  your  watches  round. 

171 


THE    PILGRIM  ACT  n 

AIL     We  are  ready,  Captain. 

Rod.     So,  now  what  are  ye? 

Ped.     Am  I? 
My  habit  shews  me  what  I  am. 

Rod.     Thy  heart 

A  desperate  fool,  and  so  thy  fate  shall  tell  thee. 
What  Devil  brought  thee  hither?   for  I  know  thee.  ' 

Ped.     I  know  thou  dost,  and  since  it  is  my  fortune 
To  light  into  thy  fingers,  I  must  think  too 
The  most  malicious  of  all  Devils  brought  me, 
Yet  some  men  say  thou  art  noble. 

Rod.     Not  to  thee, 

That  were  a  benefit  to  mock  the  Giver;  ' 
Thy  father  hates  my  friends,  and  family, 
And  thou  hast  been  the  heir  of  all  this  malice. 
Can  two  such  storms  meet  then,  and  part  with  kissing? 

Ped.     You  have  the  mightier  hand. 

Rod.     And  so  I'll  use  it. 

Ped.     I  cannot  hinder  ye;    less  can  I  beg 
Submissive  at  his  knees  that  knows  not  honour, 
That  bears  the  Stamp  of  Man,  and  not  his  Nature; 
Ye  may  do  what  ye  please. 

Rod.     I  will  do  all.  (mine, 

Ped.     And  when  you  have   done  all,  which   is  my   poor 
(For  farther  your  base  malice  cannot  venture) 
Dishonours  self  will  cry  you  out  a  Coward. 
Hadst  thou  been  brave,  and  noble,  and  an  Enemy, 
Thou  wouldst  have  sought  me  whilst  I  carried  Arms, 
Whilst  my  good  Sword  was  my  profession, 
And  then  have  cryed  out,  Pedro,  I  defie  thee; 
Then  stuck  Alphonso's  quarrel  on  the  point, 
The  mercenary  anger  thou  serv'st  under, 
To  get  his  Daughter.    Then  thou  shouldst  have  brav'd  me, 
And  arm'd  with  all  thy  Families  hate  upon  thee, 
Done  something  worthy  feat;   Now  poor  and  basely 
Thou  setst  Toyls  to  betray  me;   and  like  the  Pesant, 
That  dares  not  meet  the  Lion  in  the  face, 
Dig'st  crafty  pit-falls:    thou  sham'st  the  Spanish  Honour;  f  " 
Thou  hast  neither  point  of  Man,  nor  Conscience  in  thee. 

Rod.    Sir,  Sir,  y'are  brave,  ye  plead  now  in  a  Sanctuary, 

172 


Sc.  ii  THE    PILGRIM 

You  think  your  Pilgrims  Bulwark  can  defend  ye; 
You  will  not  find  it  so. 

Ped.     I  look  not  for't. 
The  more  unhallowed  soul  hast  thou  to  offer  it. 

Rod.    When  you  were  bravest,  Sir,  and  your  sword  sharpest, 
I  durst  affront  ye;   when  the  Court  Sun  gilded  ye, 
\And  every  cry  was  the  young  h6pefuT~P^r<?, 
\dlonso's  sprightly  Son;    then  durst  I  meet  ye, 
When  you  were  Master  of  this  fame,  and  fashion, 
And  all  your  glories  in  the  full  Meridian, 
The  Kings  proof-favour  buckled  on  your  body; 
Had  we  then  come  to  competition, 
/  Which  I  have  often  sought. 

Pedro.     And  I  desir'd  too.  (slight  it, 

Rod.     You  should  have  seen  this   Sword,  how   e're  you 
And  felt  it  too;   sharper  than  sorrow  felt  it, 
In  execution  quicker  than  thy  scorns; 
Thou  should'st  have  seen  all  this,  and  shrunk  to  see  it. 
Then  like  a  Gentleman  I  would  have  us'd  thee, 
And  given  thee  the  fair  fortune  of  thy  being, 
Then  with  a  Souldiers  arm  I  had  honoured  thee; 
But  since  thou  stealst  upon  me  like  a  Spie, 
And  thief-like  thinkst  that  holy  case  shall  carry  thee 
Through  all  my  purposes,  and  so  betray  me, 
Base  as  the  acl,  thy  end  be,  and  I  forget  thee. 

Ped.     What  poor  evasions  thou  buildst  on,  to  abuse  me! 
The  goodness  of  a  man  ne'r  taught  these  principles. 
I  come  a  Spie?   durst  any  noble  spirit 
Put  on  this  habit,  to  become  a  Traitor? 
Even  in  an  Enemy  shew  me  this  antipathy 
Where  there  is  Christian  faith,  and  this  not  reverenced: 
I  come  a  Spie?    no  Roderigo,  no, 
A  hater  of  thy  person,  a  maligner? 
So  far  from  that,  I  brought  no  malice  with  me, 
But  rather  when  I  meet  thee,  tears  to  soften  thee; 
When  I  put  on  this  habit,  I  put  off 
All  fires,  all  angers,  all  those  starts  of  youth 
That  clapt  too  rank  a  bias  to  my  being, 
And  drew  me  from  the  right  mark  all  should  aim  at; 
In  stead  of  stubborn  steel,  I  put  on  prayers; 

173 


THE    PILGRIM  ACT  n 

For  rash  and  hasty  heats,  a  sweet  repentance: 
Long  weary  steps,  and  vows,  for  my  vain-glories. 
O  Roderigo. 

Rod.     If  thy  tongue  could  save  thee, 
Prating  be  thy  bail,  thou  hast  a  rare  benefit. 
Souldiers,  come  out,  and  bring  a  halter  with  ye; 
Pie  forgive  your  holy  habit,  Sir,  but  Tie  hang  you.    \ 

Enter  Out-laws,  Lope[z],  Jaques. 

i  Out-l.     Wherefore  this  halter  Captain? 

Rod.     For  this  traytor. 
Go,  put  it  on  him,  and  then  tie  him  up. 

i.     Do  you  want  a  Band  Sir?   this  is  a  course  wearing, 
'Twill  fit  but  scurvily  upon  this  collar; 
But  patience  is  as  good  as  a  French  Pickadel. 

Lop.     What's  his  fault,  Captain? 

Rod.     'Tis  my  will  he  perish, 
And  that's  his  fault. 

Fed.     A  Captain  of  good  government. 
Come  Souldiers,  come,  ye  are  roughly  bred,  and  bloody, 
Shew  your  obedience,  and  the  joy  ye  take 
In  executing  impious  commands; 
Ye  have  a  Captain  seals  your  liberal  pardons, 
Be  no  more  Christians,  put  religion  by, 
'Twill  make  ye  cowards:    feel  no  tenderness, 
Nor  let  a  thing  call'd  conscience  trouble  ye; 
Alas,  'twill  breed  delay.     Bear  no  respect 
To  what  I  seem;   were  I  a  Saint  indeed, 
Why  should  that  stagger  ye?   you  know  not  holiness: 
To  be  excellent  in  evil,  is  your  goodness; 
And  be  so,  'twill  become  ye :    have  no  hearts, 
For  fear  you  should  repent:    that  will  be  dangerous: 
For  if  there  be  a  knocking  there,  a  pricking, 
And  that  pulse  beat  back  to  your  considerations, 
How  ye  have  laid  a  stiff  hand  on  Religion — 

Rod.     Truss  him  I  say. 

Fed.     And  violated  faith. 

Rod.     Hear  him  not  prate. 

Fed.     Why,  what  a  thing  will  this  be? 
What  strange  confusion  then  will  breed  among  ye? 


Sc.  ii  THE    PILGRIM 

Rod.     Will  none  of  ye  obey? 

Ped.     What  Devils  vex  ye? 
The  fears  ye  live  in  and  the  hourly  dangers 
Will  be  delights  to  these:    those  have  their  ends, 
But  these  outlive  all  time,  and  all  repentance: 
And  if  it  creep  into  your  conscience  once, 
Be  sure  ye  lock  that  close. 

Rod.     Why  stand  ye  gazing? 

Ped.     Farewel  sleep,  peace,  all  that  are  humane  comforts, 
Better  ye  had  been  Trees,  or  Stones,  and  happier; 
For  those  die  here,  and  seek  no  further  being, 
Nor  hopes,  nor  punishments. 

Rod.     Rots  take  ye,  Rascals. 

Jaq.     What  would  you  have  us  do? 

Rod.     Dispatch  the  prater. 

y&q.     And  have  religious  blood  hang  on  our  consciences? 
We  are  bad  enough  already:    sins  enough 
To  make  our  graves  even  loath  us. 

Rod.     No  man  love  me  ? 

Lop.     Although  I  be  a  thief,  I  am  no  hangman  ; 
They  are  two  mens  trades,  and  let  another  execute. 
Lay  violent  hands  on  holy  things  ? 

Rod.     Base  Cowards, 

Put  to  your  powers,  ye  rascals,  I  command  ye. 
Holy,  or  unholy,  if  I  say  it, 
Tie  have  it  done. 

i  Out-/.     If  I  do't,  let  me  starve  for't. 

2.  Or  I. 

3.  Or  I :    we  will  obey  things  handsom, 
And  bad  enough,  and  overdo  obedience  : 
But  to  be  made  such  instruments  of  mischief. 

7aq.     I  have  done  as  many  villanies  as  another, 
with  as  little  reluclation, 

Let  me  come  clear  of  these,  and  wipe  that  score  off. 
Put  me  upon  a  felt  and  known  perdition  ? 
Rod.     Have  ye  conspir'd,  ye  slaves  ? 
Ped.     How  vilely  this  shows, 
In  one  that  would  command  anothers  temper, 
And  bear  no  bound  in's  own  ? 
Rod.     Am  I  thus  jaded  ? 

175 


THE   PILGRIM  ACT  11 

Ped.     Is  it  my  life  thou  long'st  for  Roderigo  ? 
And  can  no  sacrifice  appease  thy  malice, 
But  my  blood  spilt  ?   do  it  thy  self,  dispatch  it  j 
And  as  thou  takst  the  whole  revenge  unto  thee, 
Take  the  whole  sin  upon  thee  ;   and  be  mighty, 
Mighty  in  evil,  as  thou  art  in  anger : 
And  let  not  these  poor  wretches  houl  for  thy  sake. 
Those  things  that  in  thine  own  glass  seem  most  monstrous, 
Wouldst  thou  abuse  their  weak  sights  with,  for  amiable  ? 
Is  it,  thou  thinkst  to  fear  me  with  thy  terrors, 
And  into  weak  condition  draw  my  vertue  ? 
If  I  were  now  to  learn  to  die  I  would  sue  thee  : 
Or  did  I  fear  death,  then  I  would  make  thee  glorious. 
But  knowing  what,  and  how  far  I  can  suffer ; 
And  all  my  whole  life  being  but  deaths  preface, 
My  sleep  but  at  next  door. 

Rod.     Are  ye  so  valiant  ? 

Fie  make  ye  feel :    Tie  make  ye  know,  and  feel  too  ; 
And  Rascals,  you  shall  tremble.      Keep  him  here, 
And  keep  him  safe  too  :    if  he  scape  your  guards — 

Ped.     Fear  not,  I  will  not. 

Rod.     As  I  live,  ye  die  for't ; 
I  will  not  be  thus  baffled.  [Exit. 

Ja.    What  a  Devil  have  ye  done,  Pilgrim  ?  or  what  mischief 
Have  you  conspir'd,  that  he  should  rage  and  rave  thus  ? 
Have  you  kill'd  his  Father,  or  his  Mother  ?  or  strangled  any 

(of  his  kindred  ? 

Lop.     Has  he  no  Sisters  ?   have  you  not  been  bouncing 
About  their  belly-pieces  ? 

Jaq.     Why  should  that  be  dangerous, 
Or  any  way  deserve  death  ?    is  it  not  natural  ? 
Bar  us  the  Christian  liberty  of  women, 
And  build  us  up  with  brick,  take  away  our  free-stone. 

i  Qut-l.  Because  thou  art  holier  than  he,  upon  my  con- 
He  does  not  envy  thee  :  that's  not  his  quarrel ;  (science 
For,  look  you,  that  might  be  compounded  without  prayers./ 

Lop.     Nor  that  thou  seemst  an  honester  man  :    for  here 
We  have  no  trading  with  such  Tinsel-stuff; 
To  be  an  excellent  thief,  is  all  we  aim  at.  (us  ? 

Wilt  thou  take  a  spit  and  stride,  and  see  if  thou  canst  outrun 

176 


Sc.  ii  THE   PILGRIM 

Fed.     I  scorn  to  shift  his  fury,  keep  your  obedience  ; 
For  though  your  government  admit  no  president, 
Keep  your  selves  carefull  in't. 

Jag.     Thou  wilt  be  hang'd  then. 

Ped.     I  cannot  die  with  fewer  faults  upon  me.     (in  him 

2  Out-/.    'Tis  ten  to  qne  he  will  shoot  him  :  for  the  Devil's 
If  he  hang  him  himselrVr 

Lop.     He  has  too  proud  a  nature  : 
He  will  compel  some  one. 

Jaq.     I  am  confident. 

Lop.     And  so  are  all  I  think. 

Ped.     Be  not  molested, 
If  I  must  die,  let  it  not  trouble  you  ; 
It  stirs  not  me  :    it  is  the  end  I  was  born  for. 
Only  this  honest  office  I  desire  ye, 
(If  there  be  courtesie  in  men  of  your  breed) 
To  see  me  buried  ;    not  to  let  his  fury 
Expose  my  body  to  the  open  violence 
Of  beasts,  and  fowls  :    so  far  I  urge  humanity. 

Enter  Roderigo,  Alinda. 

7aq.    He  shall  not  deny  us  that :  we'l  see  ye  under  ground, 
give  ye  a  volly  of  as  good  cups  of  Sack, 
For  that's  our  Discipline. 

Lop.     He  comes  again, 
As  high  in  rage  as  ever  ;   the  boy  with  him. 

I  Out-/.     Will  he  compel  the  child  ? 

Lop.     He  is  bent  to  do  it, 
And  must  have  some  body. 

Rod.     If  thou  lov'st  me  do  it : 
Love  me,  or  love  me  not,  I  say  thou  shalt  do  it : 
Stare  not,  nor  stagger,  Sirrah  ;    if  ye  deny  me, 
Do  you  see  this  Rogue  ? 

Alin.     What  would  ye  have  me  do  Sir  ? 
Heavens  goodness  bless  me. 

Rod.     Do  ?   why  hang  a  Rascal, 
i  That  would  hang  me. 

Alin.     I  am  a  boy,  and  weak,  Sir. 

Rod.     Thou  art  strong  enough  to  tie  him  to  a  Bough, 
And  turn  him  off:    come,  thou  shalt  be  my  Jewel, 

B.-F.  v.  M  177 


THE   PILGRIM  ACT  n 

And  Pie  allow  thee  horse,  and  all  thy  pleasures, 
And  twenty  gallant  things  :    I'le  teach  thee  arms  too  ; 
Make  thee  mine  heir. 

Aim.     Let  me  inherit  death  first. 

Rod.     Make  me  not  angry,  Sirrah. 

Aim.     Which  is  the  man,  Sir  ? 
Tie  pluck  up  the  best  heart  I  can  yet. 

Rod.     Fear  not, 

It  is  my  will :   That  in  the  Pilgrims  coat  there, 
That  Devil  in  the  Saints  skin. 

Aim.     Guard  me  goodness. 

Rod.     Dispatch  him  presently. 

Ped.     I  wait  your  worst,  Sir. 

Jaq.     Will  the  boy  do  it  ?    is  the  rogue  so  confident  ? 
So  young,  so  deep  in  blood  ? 

Lop.     He  shakes,  and  trembles. 

Ped.     Dost  thou  seek  more  coals  still  to  sear  thy  conscience, 
Work  sacred  innocence,  to  be  a  Devil  ? 
Do't  thy  self  for  shame,  thou  best  becom'st  it. 

Rod.     Sirrah,  I  scorn  my  finger  should  be  'fiTd  with  thee  ; 
And  yet  Tie  have  it  done  :    this  child  shall  strangle  thee, 
A  crying  Girle,  if  she  were  here,  should  master  thee.^ 

All.     How  should  I  save  him  ?  how  my  self  from  violence  ? 

Ped.    Leave  your  tongue-valour,  and  dispatch  your  hate,  Sir; 
The  patience  of  my  death,  shall  more  torment  thee, 
(Thou  painted  honour,  thou  base  man  made  backward) 
Than  all  my  life  has  fear'd  thee. 

Rod.     Gag  him,  Sirrah. 

Jaq.     The  Boy  looks  cheerfully  now :   sure  he  will  do  it. 

Lop.     He  will  mall  him  else. 

Aim.     Are  ye  prepar'd  to  die,  Sir  ? 

Ped.     Yes  boy,  and  ready  ;    prethee  to  thy  business. 

Aim.     Why  are  ye  then  so  angry  ?   so  perplext,  Sir  ? 
Patience  wins  Heaven,  and  not  the  heat  of  passion. 
Why  do  you  rayle  ? 

Lop.     The  boy's  a  pretty  Priest. 

Ped.     I  thank  ye  gentle  child,  you  teach  me  truely. 

Aim.     You  seem  to  fear  too. 

Ped.     Thou  seest  more,  than  I  feel,  boy. 

Aim.     You  tremble  sure. 

178 


Sc.  ii 


THE   PILGRIM 


Fed.     No  sure  boy,  'tis  thy  tenderness: 
Prethee  make  haste,  and  let  that  gulph  be  satisfied. 

Aim.     Are  ye  so  willing  to  go  to  it  ? 

Fed.     Most  willing  : 
I  would  not  borrow  from  his  courtesie 
One  hour  of  life,  to  gain  an  age  of  glory. 

Aim.     And  is  your  reckoning  straight  Sir  ? 

Fed.     As  straight  as  truth,  boy  : 
I  cannot  go  more  joyfully  to  a  wedding. 

Aim.     Then  to  your  prayers  :    Tie  dispatch  ye  presently. 
Now  guide  my  tongue,  thou  blessedness. 

Rod.     A  good  boy. 

Alin.     But  hark  ye  Sir,  one  word  ;  and  pray  ye  resolve  me. 
Let  me  speak  privately. 

Rod.     What  wouldst  thou  have  child  ? 

Alin.     Shall  this  man  die  ? 

Rod.     Why  dost  thou  make  that  question  ? 

Alin.     Pray  ye  be  not  angry  :    if  he  must,  Tie  do  it. 
But  must  he  now  ? 

Rod.     What  else  ?   who  dare  reprieve  him  ? 

Alin.     Pray  ye  think  again  ;    and  as  your  injuries 
^  ,i  Are  great,  and  full,  you  suffer  from  this  fellow, 
Do  not  ye  purpose  so  to  suit  your  vengeance  ? 

Rod.     I  do,  and  must. 

Alin.     You  cannot  if  he  die  now. 

Rod.     Cannot  ? 

I       Alin.     No,  cannot :    be  not  vext,  you'l  find  it : 
I  have  considered,  and  I  know  it  certain, 
Ye  suffer  below  him :    lose  all  your  angers. 

Rod.     Why,  my  best  boy  ? 

Alin.     I  love,  and  tender  ye, 
I  would  not  tell  ye  else.     Is  that  revenge, 
To  slight  your  cause,  and  Saint  your  enemy, 
Clap  the  Doves  wings  of  downy  peace  unto  him, 
And  let  him  soar  to  Heaven,  whilst  you  are  sighing  ? 
Is  this  revenge  ? 

Rod.     I  would  have  him  die. 

Alin.     Prepared  thus? 

The  blessing  of  a  Father  never  reach'd  it : 
His  contemplation  now  scorns  ye,  contemns  ye, 


M2 


179 


THE   PILGRIM  ACT  n 

And  all  the  tortures  ye  can  use.     Let  him  die  thus ; 
And  these  that  know  and  love  revenge  will  laugh  at  ye  : 
Here  lies  the  honour  of  a  well-bred  anger, 
To  make  his  enemy  shake  and  tremble  under  him  ; 
Doubt,  nay,  almost  despair,  and  then  confound  him. 
This  man  ye  rock  asleep,  and  all  your  rages  \  ^ 

Are  Requiems  to  his  parting  soul,  meer  Anthems.  \ 

Rod.     Indeed  he  is  strongly  built. 

Aim.     You  cannot  shake  him  ; 
And  the  more  weight  ye  put  on  his  foundation, 
Now  as  he  stands,  ye  fix  him  still  the  stronger; 
If  ye  love  him,  honour  him,  would  heap  upon  him 
Friendships  and  benefits  beyond  example, 
Hope  him  a  Star  in  Heaven,  and  there  would  stick  him, 
Now  take  his  life. 

Rod.     I  had  rather  take  mine  own,  Boy. 

Aim.     I'le  ease  him  presently. 

Rod.     Stay,  be  not  hasty. 

Aim.     Bless  my  tongue  still. 

Lop.     What  has  the  boy  done  to  him  ? 
How  dull,  and  still  he  looks  ! 

Alin.     You  are  a  wise  man, 

And  long  have  buckled  with  the  worlds  extremities, 
A  valiant  man,  and  no  doubt  know  both  fortunes, 
And  would  ye  work  your  Master-piece  thus  madly, 
Take  the  bare  name  of  honour,  that  will  pity  ye 
When  the  world  knows  ye  have  prey'd  on  a  poor  Pilgrim  ? 

Rod.    The  boy  has  stagger'd  me  :  what  would'st  thou  have 

Alt.    Have  ye  ?  do  you  not  feel  Sir  ?  do's  it  not  stir  ye  ?    (me  ? 
Do  you  ask  a  child  ?    I  would  have  ye  do  most  bravely, 
Because  I  most  affect  ye  :   like  your  self  Sir, 
Scorn  him,  and  let  him  go  ;    seem  to  contemn  him, 
And  now  ye  have  made  him  shake,  seal  him  his  pardon, 
When  he  appears  a  subject  fit  for  anger, 
And  fit  for  you,  his  pious  Armour  off, 
His  hopes  no  higher  than  your  sword  may  reach  at, 
Then  strike,  and  then  ye  know  revenge ;    then  take  it. 
I  hope  I  have  turn'd  his  mind. 

Rod.     Let  the  fool  go  there, 
I  scorn  to  let  loose  so  base  an  anger 

1 80 


ACT  m  THE   PILGRIM 

May  light  on  thee  :    See  me  no  more,  but  quit  me ; 
And  when  we  meet  again. 

Fed.     Tie  thank  ye  Captain.  [Exit. 

Aim.    Why  this  was  like  your  self:    but  which  way  goes 
Shall  we  ne're  happy  meet  ?  (he  ? 

Rod.     I  am  drowsie  :    Boy, 

Go  with  me,  and  discourse  :    I  like  thy  company 
O  Child  !    I  love  thy  tongue. 

Aim.     I  shall  wait  on  ye.  [Exit. 

Lop.     The  Boy  has  don't :    a  Plaguey  witty  Rascal. 
And  I  shall  love  him  terribly. 

Jaq.     'Twas  he  most  certain, 
For  if  ye  mark,  how  earnest  he  was  with  him, 
And  how  he  laboured  him. 

Lop.     A  cunning  villain, 
But  a  good  rogue  ;    'This  boy  will  make's  all  honest. 

i  Out-!.     I  scarce  believe  that :    but  I  like  the  boy  well. 
Come  let's  to  Supper ;    then  upon  our  watches. 

Lop.     This  Pilgrim  scap'd  a  joyfull  one. 

y^q.     Let's  drink  round 
To  the  boys  health,  and  then  about  our  business. 

[Exeunt. 

Attus  Tertius.     Scena  Prima. 

Enter  Roderigo,  Jaques,  Lopez,  and  three  Out-Laws. 

Rod.   "TV  T  One  of  you  know  her  ? 

J.  \|      Ja<?'     Alas  Sir,  we  never  saw  her : 
Nor  ever  heard  of  her,  but  from  your  report. 

Rod.     No  happy  eye  ? 

Lop.     I  do  not  think  'tis  she,  Sir, 
Me  thinks  a  woman  dares  not. 

Rod.     Thou  speak'st  poorly, 
What  dares  not  woman,  when  she  is  provok'd  ? 
Or  what  seems  dangerous  to  Love,  or  fury  ? 
That  it  is  she,  this  has  confirm'd  me  certain, 
These  Jewels  here,  a  part  of  which  I  sent  her, 
And  though  unwilling,  yet  her  Father  wrought  her 
To  take,  and  wear. 

181 


THE   PILGRIM  ACT  in 

Lop.     A  wench,  and  we  not  know  it  ? 
And  among  us  ?   where  were  our  understandings  ? 
I  could  have  ghess'd  unhappily :    have  had  some  feeling 
In  such  a  matter  :    Here  are  as  pretty  fellows, 
At  the  discovery  of  such  a  Jigambob  : 
A  handsome  wench  too  !    sure  we  have  lost  our  faculties, 
We  have  no  motions  :    what  should  she  do  here,  Sir  ? 

Rod.     That's  it  that  troubles  me  :    O  that  base  rascal  ! 
There  lies  the  misery :    how  cunningly  she  quit  him, 
And  how  she  urg'd  !    had  ye  been  constant  to  me, 
I  ne're  had  suffer'd  this. 

1  Out-l.     Ye  might  have  hang'd  him  : 

And  would  he  had  been  hang'd,  that's  all  we  care  for't : 
So  our  hands  had  not  don't. 

Rod.     She  is  gone  again  too, 

And  what  care  have  ye  for  that  ?  gone,  and  contemn'd  me ; 
Master'd  my  will,  and  power,  and  now  laughs  at  me. 

Lop.     The  Devil  that  brought  her  hither,  Sir  I  think 
Has  carryed  her  back  again  invisible, 
For  we  ne're  knew,  nor  heard  of  her  departure,  v 

Jaq.    No  living  thing  came  this  night  through  our  watches. 
She  went  with  you. 

Rod.     Was  by  me  till  I  slept, 

But  when  I  wak'd,  and  call'd  :    O  my  dull  pate  here, 
If  I  had  open'd  this  when  it  was  given  me, 
This  Roguy  Box. 

Enter  Alphonso,  and  2  Out-laws. 

Lop.     We  could  but  give  it  ye. 

Rod.     Pilgrim  ?   a  Pox  o'  Pilgrims,  there  the  game  goes, 
There's  all  my  fortune  fled  ;    I  know  it,  I  feel  it. 

Al.     Bring  me  unto  thy  Captain:    where's  thy  Captain? 
I  am  founder'd,  melted,  some  fairy  thing  or  other 
Has  led  me  dancing ;  the  Devil  has  haunted  me 
I'th'  likeness  of  a  voyce :    give  me  thy  Captain. 

2  Out-l.     He's  here  Sir,  there  he  stands. 
AL     How  do'st  thou  Captain  ? 

I  have  been  fool'd  and  jaded,  made  a  dog-bolt. 

My  Daughter's  run  away  :    I  have  been  haunted  too, 

I  have  lost  my  horse ;  I  am  hungry,  and  out  of  my  wits  also. 

182 


Sc.  ii  THE   PILGRIM 

Rod.     Come  in:  Fie  tell  you  what  I  know :  strange  things. 
And  take  your  ease  ;    Fie  follow  her  recovery, 
These  shall  be  yours  the  whil'st,  and  do  ye  service. 

AL    Let  me  have  drink  enough :  I  am  almost  choak'd  too. 

Rod.     You   shall  have  any  thing ;    what  think  you  now, 

(Souldiers  ? 

Jaq.    I  think  a  woman,  is  a  woman,  that's  any  thing. 
The  next  we  take,  we'l  search  a  little  nearer, 
We'l  not  be  boyed  again  with  a  pair  of  breeches.     [Exeunt. 


SCENE  II. 

Enter  Juletta. 

7ul.     He's  gone  in  here  :    This  is  Roderigtfs  quarter, 
I'le  be  with  him  soon  :    Fie  startle  him, 
A  little  better  than  I  have  done  :    all  this  long  night 
I  have  le[d]  him  out  o'th'  way,  to  try  his  patience, 
And  made  him  swear,  and  curse ;  and  pray,  and  swear  again, 
And  cry  for  anger  ;    I  made  him  leave  his  horse  too, 
Where  he  can  never  find  him  more  ;    whistled  to  him, 
And  then  he  would  run  through  thick  and  thin,  to  reach  me, 
And  down  in  this  ditch  ;    up  again,  and  shake  him, 
And  swear  some  certain  blessings  ;    then  into  that  bush 
Pop  goes  his  pate,  and  all  his  face  is  comb'd  over, 
And  I  sit.  laughing  :    a  hundred  tricks,  I  have  serv'd  him  : 
And  I  will  double  'em,  before  I  leave  him  ; 
Fie  teach  his  anger  to  dispute  with  women. 
But  all  this  time,  I  cannot  meet  my  Mistress, 
I  cannot  come  to  comfort  her  ;    that  grieves  me, 
For  sure  she  is  much  afflicted  :    till  I  do, 
Fie  haunt  thy  Ghost  Alphonso  ;    Fie  keep  thee  waking, 
Yes,  I  must  get  a  Drum  :    I  am  villanous  weary, 
And  yet  Fie  trot  about  these  villages 
Till  I  have  got  my  will,  and  then  have  at  ye. 
Fie  make  your  anger  drop  out  at  your  elbows  e're  I  leave  ye. 

[Exit. 


THE   PILGRIM  ACT  m 

SCENE  III. 

Enter  Seberto,  and  Curio. 

Seb.     'Tis  strange,  in  all  the  circuit  we  have  ridden, 
We  cannot  cross  her :    no  way  light  upon  her. 

Cur.  I  do  not  think  she  is  gone  thus  far,  or  this  way, 
For  certain  if  she  had,  we  should  have  reach'd  her,  (thing. 
Made  some  discovery,  heard  some  news ;  we  have  seen  no- 

Seb.    Nor  pass  by  any  body  that  could  promise  any  thing. 
She  is  certainly  disguisM,  her  modesty 
Durst  never  venture  else. 

Cur.     Let  her  take  any  shape, 
And  let  me  see  it  once,  I  can  distinguish  it. 

Seb.     So  should  I  think  too :  has  not  her  Father  found  her  ? 

Cur.     No,  I'le  be  hang'd  then  ;    he  has  no  patience 
Unless  she  light  in's  teeth,  to  look  about  him. 
He  guesses   now,  and  chafes  and  frets  like  Tinsel. 

Seb.     Let  him  go  on,  he  cannot  live  without  it. 
But  keep  her  from  him,  heaven  :    where  are  we  Curio  ? 

Cur.     In  a  wood  I  think,  hang  me  if  I  know  else. 
And  yet  I  have  ridden  all  these  coasts,  at  all  hours, 
And  had  an  aim. 

Seb.     I  would  we  had  a  guide. 

Cur.     And  if  I  be  not  much  awry  Seberto^ 
Not  far  off  should  be  Roderigo's  quarter, 
For  in  this  fastness  if  I  be  not  cozen'd, 
He  and  his  out-laws  live.* 

Seb.     This  is  the  place  then  ) 

Enter  Alinda. 

We  appointed  him  to  meet  in. 

Cur.     Yes,  I  think  so.  (that  there? 

Seb.     Would  we  could  meet  some   living   thing  :    what's 

Cur.     A  boy,  I  think,  stay  ;    why  may  not  he  direct  us  ? 

Aim.    I  am  hungry,  and  I  am  weary,  and  I  cannot  find  him. 
Keep  my  wits  Heaven,  I  feel  'em  wavering, 
O  God  my  head. 

Seb.     Boy,  dost  thou  hear,  thou  stripling  ? 

Aim.     Now  they  will  tear  me,  torture  me,  now  Roderlgo 

184 


Sc.  in  THE    PILGRIM 

Will  hang  [him]  without  mercy  ;    ha  ? 

Cur.     Come  hither. 

A  very  pretty  boy  :    what  place  is  this,  child  ? 
And  whither  dost  thou  travel  ?    how  he  stares  ! 
Some  stubborn  Master  has  abus'd  the  boy, 
And  beaten  him  :    how  he  complains  !    whither  goest  thou  ? 

Aim.     I  go  to  Segovia  Sir,  to  my  sick  Mother, 
I  have  been  taken  here  by  drunken  thieves, 
And  (O  my  bones  !)  I  have  been  beaten  Sir. 
Mis-us'd,  and  rob'd  :    extreamly  beaten  Gentlemen, 

0  God,  my  side  ! 

Seb.     What  beasts  would  use  a  boy  thus  ? 
Look  up,  and  be  of  good  cheer. 

Aim.     O,  I  cannot. 
My  back,  my  back,  my  back. 

Cur.     What  thieves  ? 

Aim.     I  know  not. 
But  they  call  the  Captain  Roderigo. 

Cur.     Look  ye, 

1  knew  we  were  thereabouts. 

Seb.     Do'st  thou  want  any  thing  ? 

Aim.     Nothing  but  ease,  but  ease,  Sir. 

Cur.     There's  some  mony, 
And  get  thee  to  thy  Mother. 

Alin.     I  thank  ye  Gentlemen. 

Seb.     This  was  extreamly  foul,  to  vex  a  child  thus. 
Come,  let's  along,  we  cannot  lose  our  way  now.  [Ex. 

Aim.     Though  ye  are  honest  men,  I  fear  your  fingers, 
And  glad  I  am  got  off;    O  how  I  tremble  ! 
Send  me  but  once  within  his  arms  dear  fortune, 
And  then  come  all  the  world  :    what  shall  I  do  now  ? 
'Tis  almost  night  again,  and  where  to  lodge  me, 

Enter  Juletta. 

Or  get  me  meat,  or  any  thing,  I  [k]now  not. 
ijThese  wild  woods,  and  the  fancies  I  have  in  me, 
!  Will  run  me  mad. 

Jul.     Boy,  Boy. 

Aim.     More  set  to  take  me  ? 

Jul.     Do'st  thou  hear  boy  ?   thou  pointer. 

185 


THE    PILGRIM  ACT  m 

Aim.     'Tis  a  boy  too, 
A  Lacky  Boy  :    I  need  not  fear  his  fierceness. 

Jul.     Canst  thou  beat  a  Drum  ? 

Aim.     A  Drum  ? 

Jul.     This  thing,  a  Drum  here.  (ble  ? 

Didst  thou  never  see  a  Drum  ?    Canst  thou  make  this  grum- 

Alm.     Julettas  face,  and  tongue  ;    is  she  run  mad  too  ? 
Here  may  be  double  craft :    I  have  no  skill  in't. 

Jul.     Fie  give  thee  a  royal  but  to  go  along  with  me. 

Aim.     I  care  not  for  thy  royal,  I  have  other  business, 
Drum  to  thy  self,  and  daunce  to  it. 

Jul.     Sirrah,  Sirrah.  (me  ? 

Thou  scurvy  Sirrah ;  thou  snotty-nos'd  scab,  do'st  thou  hear 
If  I  lay  down  my  Drum. 

Enter  Roderigo,  and  two  Outlaws. 

Aim.     Here  comes  more  Company, 
I  fear  a  plot,  Heaven  send  me  fairly  from  it.  \Exit. 

Jul.     Basto  ;    who's  here  ? 

Lop.     Captain,  do  you  need  me  farther  ? 

Rod.     No  not  a  foot :   give  me  the  gown  :   the  sword  now. 

Jul.     This  is  the  Devil  thief,  and  if  he  take  me, 
Woe  be  to  my  Gaily  gaskins. 

Lop.     Certain  Sir, 
She  will  take  her  patches  off,  and  change  her  habit. 

Rod.     Let  her  do  what  she  please  :    No,  no  Al'mda 
You  cannot  cozen  me  again  in  a  Boys  figure, 
Nor  hide  the  beauty  of  that  face  in  patches, 
But  I  shall  know  it. 

Jul.     A  boy  his  face  in  patches? 

Rod.     Nor  shall   your  tongue  again  bewitch  mine  anger, 
If  she  be  found  i'th'  woods,  send  me  word  presently, 
And  I'le  return  ;    she  cannot  be  far  gone  yet : 
If  she  be  not,  expect  me,  when  ye  see  me ; 
Use  all  your  service  to  my  friend  Alphonso, 
And  have  a  care  to  your  business  :    farewel, 
No  more,  farewel.  [Exeunt. 

Jul.  I  am  heartily  glad  thou  art  gone  yet. 
This  boy  in  patches,  was  the  boy  came  by  me, 
The  very  same,  how  hastily  it  shifted  ! 

1 86 


Sc.  iv 


THE    PILGRIM 


What  a  mop-eyed  ass  was  I,  I  could  not  know  her, 
This  must  be  she,  this  is  she,  now  I  remember  her, 
How  loth  she  was  to  talk  too,  how  she  fear'd  me  : 
I  could  now  piss  mine  eyes  out  for  meer  anger  : 
Tie  follow  her,  but  who  shall  vex  her  Father  then  ? 
One  flurt  at  him,  and  then  I  am  for  the  voyage, 
If  I  can  cross  the  Captain  too  :    Come  Tabor. 

SCENE   IV. 


[Exit. 


Enter  Jaques,  and  I    Out-Law. 

Jaq.     Are  they  all  set  ? 

i  Out-/.     All,  and  each  quarter  quiet. 

Jaq.     Is  the  old  man  asleep  ? 

i  Out-/.     An  hour  agoe  Sir. 

7aq.     We  must  be  very  carefull  in  his  absence, 
very  watchfull. 

i  Out-/.     It  concerns  us  nearly, 
He  will  not  be  long  from  us. 
Jaq.     No,  he  cannot. 

i  Out-/.     A  little  heat  of  love,  which  he  must  wander  out. 

[Drum  a  far  off. 
And  then  again  :    hark. 
Ja\q\.     What? 

i  Out-!.     'Tis  not  the  wind  sure  : 
That's  still  and  calm,  no  noise,  nor  flux  of  waters. 
Jaq.     I  hear  a  Drum,  I  think. 
I  Out-/.     That,  that ; 
It  beats  again  now. 

Jaq.     Now  it  comes  nearer  :   sure  we  are  surprized,  Sir ; 
Some  from   the   Kings  command  :    we  are  lost,  we  are  dead 

(all. 
i  Out-/.     Hark,   hark,  a   charge   now :    my    Captain   has 


And  left  us  to  this  ruine,  run  away  from  us. 
Enter  two  Out-Laws. 

Lop.     Another  beats  o'  that  side. 
2  Out-/.     Fly,  flie,  Jaques, 
We  are  taken  in  a  toyle  :   snapt  in  a  pitfal ; 


(betray'd  us, 


THE    PILGRIM  ACT  in 

Methinks  I  feel  a  Sword  already  shave  me. 

3  Out-!.     A  thousand  horse  and  foot,  a  thousand  pioneers, 
If  we  get  under-ground ,  to  fetch  us  out  again  ; 
And  every  one  an  Axe  to  cut  the  woods  down. 

Lop.     This  is  the  dismalst  night —  [Exit. 

Enter  Alpho[n]so. 

Alp.     Where's  my  Nag  now  ? 

And  what  make  I  here  to  be  hang'd  ?     What  Devil 
Brought  me  into  this  danger  ?     Is  there  ne'er  a  hole, 
That  I  may  creep  in  deep  enough,  and  die  quickly  ? 
Ne'r  an  old  ditch  to  choke  in  ?    I  shall  be  taken 
For  their  Commander  now,  their  General, 
And  have  a  commanding  Gallows  set  up  for  me 
As  high  as  a  May-pole  ;    and  nasty  Songs  made  on  me, 
Be  printed  with  a  Pint-pot  and  a  Dagger. 
They  are  all  kill'd  by  this  time  :    Can  I  pray  ? 
Let  me  see  that  first :    I  have  too  much  fear  to  be  faithful. 
Where's  all  my  State  now  ?    I  must  go  hunt  for  Daughters  ; 
Daughters,  and  Damsels  of  the  Lake,  damned  Daughters. 
A  hundred  Crowns  for  a  good  tod  of  Hay, 
Or  a  fine  hollow  Tree,  that  would  contain  me  ; 
I  hear  'em  coming :    I  feel  the  nooze  about  me. 

Enter  Seberto,  Curio,  Outlaws,  and  Jaques. 

Seb.  Why  do  you  fear,  and  fly  ?  here  are  no  Souldiers  j 
None  from  the  King  to  vex  ye. 

i  Out!.     The  Drum,  the  Drum,  Sir. 

Cur.  I  never  saw  such  Pigeon-hearted  people  :  (there  ? 
What  Drum  ?  what  danger  ?  who's  that  that  shakes  behind 
Mercy  upon  me,  Sir,  why  are  ye  fear'd  thus  ? 

Alp.     Are  we  all  kill'd,  no  mercy  to  be  hoped  for  ? 
Am  I  not  shot  do  you  think  ? 

Seb.     You  are  strangely  frighted, 
Shot  with  a  fiddle-stick  :    who's  here  to  shoot  ye  ? 
A  drum  we  saw  indeed,  a  boy  was  beating  it, 
And  hunting  Squirrels  by  Moon-light. 

Lop.     Nothing  else,  Sir  ? 

Cur.     Not  any  thing  :    no  other  person  stirring. 

Alp.     O  that  I  had  that  boy :    this  is  that  Devil, 

188 


Sc.  v  THE    PILGRIM 

That  fairy  Rogue,  that  haunted  me  last  night ; 
H'as  sleeves  like  Dragons  wings.  / 

Seb.     A  little  Foot-boy. 

Alp.     Come,  let's  go  in,  and  let  me  get  my  cloaths  on  ; 
If  ere  I  stay  here  more  to  be  thus  martyr' d — 
Did  ye  not  meet  the  wench  ? 

Seb.     No  sure,  we  met  her  not. 

Alp.     She  has  been  here  in  Boys  apparel,  Gentlemen, 
A  gallant  thing,  and  famous  for  a  Gentlewoman. 
And  all  her  face  patcht  over  for  discovery  : 
A  Pilgrim  too,  and  thereby  hangs  a  circumstance, 
That  she  hath  plaid  her  master-prize,  a  rare  one. 
I  came  too  short. 

Cur.     Such  a  young  Boy  we  met,  Sir. 

Alp.     In  a  gray  Hat. 

Cur.     The  same  :    his  face  all  patcht  too. 

Alp.    'Twas  she,  a  rot  run  with  her;   she,  that  rank  she; 
Walk  in,  Fie  tell  ye  all,  and  then  we'll  part  again, 
But  get  some  store  of  Wine  :  this  fright  sits  here  yet.          [Ex. 

Enter  Juletta. 

2ul.    What  a  fright  I  have  put  'em  in ;  what  a  brave  hurry, 
's  do  bolt  him,  I'le  be  with  him  again 
With  a  new  part,  was  never  play'd  ;    I'le  ferk  him. 
As  he  hunts  her,  so  I'le  hunt  him  :    I'le  claw  him. 
Now  will  I  see  if  I  can  cross  her  footing : 
Yet  still  I'le  watch  his  water,  he  shall  pay  for't ; 
And  when  he  thinks  most  malice,  and  means  worse, 
Fie  make  him  know  the  Mare's  the  better  Horse.         [Exit. 

SCENE  V. 

Enter  Pedro,  and  a  Gentleman. 

Gent.     Ye  are  a  stranger,  Sir,  and  for  humanity, 
Being  come  within  our  walls,  I  would  shew  you  something. 
Ye  have  seen  the  Castle  ? 

Fed.     Yes  Sir,  'tis  a  strong  one, 
And  well  maintain'd. 

Gent.     Why  are  you  still  thus  sad,  Sir  ? 
How  do  ye  like  the  walks? 

189 


THE   PILGRIM  ACT  m 

Ped.     They  are  very  pleasant ; 
Your  Town  stands  cool  and  sweet. 

Gent.     But  that  I  would  not 
Affeft  you  with  more  sadness,  I  could  shew  ye 
A  place  worth  view. 

Ped.     Shows  seldom  alter  me,  Sir; 
Pray  ye  speak  it,  and  then  shew  it. 

Gent.     'Tis  a  house  here 

Where  people  of  all  sorts,  that  have  been  visited 
With  Lunacies,  and  Follies  wait  their  cures, 
There's  fancies  of  a  thousand  stamps  and  fashions, 
Like  flies  in  several  shapes  buz  round  about  ye, 
And  twice  as  many  gestures  ;    some  of  pity, 
That  it  would  make  ye  melt  to  see  their  passions  : 
And  some  as  light  again,  that  would  content  ye. 
But  I  see,  Sir,  your  temper  is  too  modest, 
Too  much  inclin'd  to  contemplation, 
To  meet  with  these  ? 

Ped.  You  could  not  please  me  better; 
And  I  beseech  you,  Sir,  do  me  the  honour 
To  let  me  wait  upon  ye. 

Gent.     Since  ye  are  willing, 
To  me  it  shall  be  a  pleasure  to  conduct  ye. 

Ped.     I  never  had  such  a  mind  yet  to  see  misery. !        [Exe. 

SCENE  VI. 

Enter  two  Keepers. 

1  Keep.    Carry  mad  Bess  some  meat,  she  roars  like  Thunder; 
And  tie  the  Parson  short,  the  Moon's  i'th'  full, 

H'as  a  thousand  Pigs  in's  brains:  Who  looks  to  the  Prentice? 
Keep  him  from  Women,  he  thinks  h'as  lost  his  Mistris ; 
And  talk  of  no  silk  stuffs,  'twill  run  him  horn  mad. 

2  Keep.     The  Justice  keeps  such   a  stir   yonder  with  his 
And  such  a  coil  with  warrants.  (Charges, 

I  Keep.     Take  away  his  Statutes ; 
The  Devil  has  possest  him  in  the  likeness 
Of  penal  Laws  :    keep  him  from  Aqua  vita?, 
For  if  that  spirit  creep  into  his  Quorum^ 
He  will  commit  us  all :    how  is  it  with  the  Scholar  ? 

190 


Sc.  vi  THE   PILGRIM 

2  Keep.     For  any  thing  I  see,  he's  in  his  right  wits. 

I  Keep.    Thou  art  an  ass ;  in's  right  wits,  goodman  coxcomb  ? 
As  though  any  man  durst  be  in's  right  wits,  and  be  here. 
It  is  as  much  as  we  dare  be  that  keep  'em. 

Enter  English  madman. 

Engl.     Give  me  some  drink. 

I  Keep.     O,  there's  the  English  man. 

Engl.     Fill  me  a  thousand  pots,  and  froth  'em, , froth  'em. 
Down  o'  your  knees,  ye  Rogues,  and  pledge  me  roundly  ; 
One,  two,  three,  and  four  ;  we  shall  all  be  merry  within  this 
To  the  great  Turk.  (hour. 

1  Keep.     Peace,  peace  thou  Heathen  drunkard ; 

These  English  are  so  Malt-mad,  there's  no  medling  with  'em ; 
When  they  have  a  fruitful  year  of  Barly  there, 
All  the  whole  Island's  thus. 

Engl.     A  snuff,  a  snuff,  a  snuff. 
A  lewd  notorious  snuff:    give't  him  again,  boy. 

Enter  she-fool. 

Fool.     God-ye-good  even,  Gaffer. 

2  Keep.     Who  let  the  Fool  loose  ? 

I  Keep.     If  any  of  the  mad-men  take  her,  she  is  pepper'd, 
They'll  bounce  her  loins. 

Fool.     Will  ye  walk  into  the  coal  house  ? 

1  Keep.     She  is  as  leacherous  too  as  a  she-Ferret. 

2  Keep.     Who  a  vengeance  looks  to  her  ?    go  in  Kate, 
I'le  give  thee  a  fine  Apple. 

Fool.     Will  ye  buss  me  ? 
And  tickle  me,  and  make  me  laugh  ? 

I  Keep.     I'le  whip  ye. 

Engl.     Fool,  fool,  come  up  to  me  fool. 

Fool.     Are  ye  peeping  ? 

Engl.     I'le  get  thee  with  five  fools. 

Fool.     O  fine,  O  dainty. 

Engl.     And  thou  shalt  lie  in  [in]  a  horse-cloth,  like  a  Lady. 

Fool.     And  shall  I  have  a  Coach  ? 

Engl.     Drawn  with  four  Turkeys, 
And  they  shall  tread  thee  too. 

Fool.     We  shall  have  eggs  then ; 

191 


THE   PILGRIM  ACT  in 

And  shall  I  sit  upon  'em  ? 

Engl     I,  I,  and  they  shall  be  all  addle, 
And  make  an  admirable  Tanzey  for  the  Devil. 
Come,  come  away,  I  am  taken  with  thy  love  fool, 
And  will  mightily  belabour  thee. 

1  Keep.     How  the  fool  bridles  !   how  she  twitters  at  him  ! 
These  English  men  would  stagger  a  wise  woman. 

If  we  should  suffer  her  to  have  her  will  now, 

We  should  have  all  the  women  in  Spain  as  mad  as  she  here. 

2  Keep.     They  would  strive  who  should  be  most  fool  : 
Away  with  her. 

Enter  Master,  three  Gentlemen,  a  mad  Scholar,  and  Pedro. 

Fool.  Pray  ye  stay  a  little:  let's  hear  him  sing,  h'as  a  fine  breast. 

i  Keep.     Here  comes  my  Master ;    to  the  spit  ye  whore, 
And  stir  no  more  abroad,  but  tend  your  business  ; 
You  shall  have  no  more  sops  i'th'  pan  else,  nor  no  Porridge  : 
Besides,  Pie  whip  your  breech. 

Fool.     Fie  go  in  presently. 

i  Gent.     Fie  assure  ye,  Sir,  the  Cardinal's  angry  with  ye 
For  keeping  this  young  man. 

Mast.     I  am  heartily  sorry. 
If  ye  allow  him  sound,  pray  ye  take  him  with  ye. 

1  Gent.    This  is  the  place,  and  now  observe  their  humours. 

2  Gent.    We  can  find  nothing  in  him  light,  nor  tainted ; 
No  startings,  nor  no  rubs,  in  all  his  answers, 

In  all  his  Letters  nothing  but  discretion, 
Learning,  and  handsome  stile. 

Mast.     Be  not  deceived,  Sir, 
Mark  but  his  look. 

1  Gent.     His  grief,  and  his  imprisonment 
May  stamp  that  there. 

Mast.     Pray  talk  with  him  again  then.  (enough, 

2  Gent.     That   will  be  needless,  we  have  tried  him   long 
And  if  he  had  a  taint  we  should  have  met  with't. 

Yet  to  discharge  your  care — 

Fed.     A  sober  youth  : 
Pity  so  heavy  a  cross  should  light  upon  him. 

2  Gent.     You  find  no  sickness  ? 

Schol.     None  Sir,  I  thank  Heaven, 

192 


Sc.  vi  THE   PILGRIM 

Nor  nothing  that  diverts  my  understanding. 

1  Gent.     Do  you  sleep  a  nights? 

Scbol.     As  sound,  and  sweet,  as  any  man. 

2  Gent.     Have  ye  no  fearful  dreams  ? 
Scbol.     Sometimes,  as  all  have 

That  go  to  bed  with  raw  and  windy  stomachs ; 
Else  I  am  all  one  piece. 

I  Gent.     Is  there  no  unkindness 
You  have  conceiv'd  from  any  friend  or  parent  ? 
Or  scorn  from  what  ye  lov'd  ? 

Schol.     No,  truely  Sir  : 
I  never  yet  was  master  of  a  faith 
So  poor,  and  weak,  to  doubt  my  friend  or  kindred, 
And  what  love  is,  unless  it  lie  in  learning 
I  think  I  am  ignorant. 

1  Gent.     This  man  is  perfect, 

A  civiller  discourser  I  ne'r  talk'd  with. 
Mast.     You'l  find  it  otherwise. 

2  Gent.     I  must  tell  ye  true,  Sir, 

I  think  ye  keep  him  here  to  teach  him  madness. 
Here  s  his  discharge  from  my  Lord  Cardinal ; 
And  come  Sir,  go  with  us. 

Scbol.     I  am  bound  unto  ye, 
And  farewel  Master. 

Master.     Farewel  Stephano, 
Alas  poor  man. 

1  Gent.     What  flaws,  and  whirles  of  weather, 
Or  rather  storms  have  been  aloft  these  three  daies; 
How  dark,  and  hot,  and  full  of  mutiny  ! 

And  still  grows  louder. 

Mast.     It  has  been  stubborn  weather. 

2  Gent.    Strange  work  at  Sea,  I  fear  me  there's  old  tumbling 

1  Gent.     Bless  my  old  Unkles  Bark,  I  have  a  venture. 

2  Gent.     And  I  more  than  I  would  wish  to  lose. 
Schol.     Do  you  fear  ? 

2  Gent.     Ha  !    how  he  looks  ! 
Mast.     Nay,  mark  him  better  Gentlemen. 
2  Gent.     Mercy  upon  me:    how  his  eyes  are  altered! 
Mast      Now  tell  me  how  ye  like  him  :    whether  now 
He  be  that  perfect  man  ye  credited  ? 

193 


THE   PILGRIM  ACT  m 

SchoL     Do's  the  Sea  stagger  ye  ? 
Mast.     Now  ye  have  hit  the  nick. 
SchoL     Do  ye  fear  the  billows  ? 

1  Gent.     What  ails  him  ?    who  has  stir'd  him  ? 
SchoL     Be  not  shaken, 

Nor  let  the  singing  of  the  storm  shoot  through  ye, 
Let  it  blow  on,  blow  on  :  let  the  clouds  wrastle, 
And  let  the  vapours  of  the  earth  turn  mutinous, 
The  Sea  in  hideous  mountains  rise  and  tumble 
Upon  a  Dolphins  back,  Pie  make  all  tremble, 
For  I  am  Neptune. 

Mast.     Now  what  think  ye  of  him  ? 

2  Gent.     Alas  poor  man. 

SchoL     Your  Bark  shall  plough  through  all, 
And  not  a  Surge  so  saucy  to  disturb  her. 
I'le  see  her  safe,  my  power  shall  sail  before  her. 

Down  ye  angry  waters  all, 

Ye  loud  whistling  whirlewinds  fall ; 

Down  ye  proud  Waves,  ye  storms  cease  ; 

/  command  ye,  be  at  peace. 

Fright  not  with  your  churlish  Notes, 

Nor  bruise  the  Keel  of  Bark  that  flotes : 

No  devouring  Fish  come  nigh, 

Nor  Monster  in  my  Empery, 

Once  shew  his  head,  or  terror  bring ; 

But  let  the  weary  Say/or  sing : 

Amphitrite  with  white  arms 

Strike  my  Lute,  Pie  sing  Charms. 

Mast.    He  must  have  Musick  now  :  I  must  observe  him, 
His  fit  will  grow  too  full  else.  [Musick,  Song. 

2  Gent.     I  must  pity  him. 

Mast.     Now  he  will  in  himself  most  quietly, 
And  clean  forget  all,  as  he  had  done  nothing. 

I  Gent.     We  are  sorry,  Sir  :   and  we  have  seen  a  wonder  ; 
From  this  hour  we'll  believe,  and  so  we'll  leave  ye.        [Ex. 

Ped.     This  was  a  strange  fit. 

Mast.     Did  ye  mark  him,  Sir  ? 

Ped.     He  might  have  cozen'd  me  with  his  behaviour. 

Mast.    Many  have  sworn  him  right,  and  I  have  thought  so : 

194 


Sc.  vi  THE   PILGRIM 

Yet  on  a  sudden,  from  some  word,  or  other, 

When  no  man  could  expect  a  fit,  he  has  flown  out : 

I  dare  not  give  him  will. 

Enter  Alinda. 

Ped.     Pray  Heaven  recover  him. 

Alin.     Must  I  come  in  too  ? 

Mast.     No,  my  pretty  Lad  ; 
Keep  in  thy  Chamber  Boy  ;    'shalt  have  thy  supper. 

Ped.     I  pray  ye  what  is  he,  Sir  ? 

Mast.     A  strange  Boy,  that  last  night 
Was  found  i'th*  Town,  a  little  craz'd,  distracted, 
And  so  sent  hither. 

Ped.     How  the  pretty  Knave  looks, 
And  plays,  and  peeps  upon  me  !    sure  such  eyes 
I  have  seen,  and  lov'd  :    what  fair  hands  !    certainly — 

Mast.     Good  Sir,  you'l  make  him  worse. 

Ped.     I  pray  believe  not. 

Alas,  why  sho[u]ld  I  hurt  him  ?    how  he  smiles  ! 
The  very  shape,  and  sweetness  of  Alinda : 
Let  me  look  once  again  :    were  it  in  such  clothes 
As  when  I  saw  her  last ;   this  must  be  she. 
How  tenderly  it  stroaks  me  ! 

Mast.     Pray  ye  be  mild  Sir  ; 
I  must  attend  elsewhere.  [Exit. 

Ped.     Pray  ye  be  secure  Sir, 

What  would  ye  say  ?    how  my  heart  beats  and  trembles  ! 
He  holds  me  hard  by  th'  hand  ;    O  my  life,  her  flesh  too  ! 
I  know  not  what  to  think  :    her  tears,  her  true  ones ; 
Pure  orient  tears  :    Hark,  do  you  know  me  little  one  ? 

Alin.      O  Pedro  Pedro  \ 

Ped.     O  my  soul  ! 

Gent.     What  fit's  this? 
The  Pilgrim's  off  the  hooks  too. 

Alin.     Let  me  hold  thee, 
And  now  come  all  the  world,  and  all  that  hate  me. 

Ped.     Be  wise,  and  not  discovered  :    O  how  I  love  ye  ! 
How  do  ye  now  ? 

Alin.     I  have  been  miserable  ; 
But  your  most  vertuous  eyes  have  cur'd  me,  Pedro  : 

N2  195 


THE    PILGRIM  ACT  iv 

Pray  ye  think  it  no  immodesty,  I  kiss  ye, 
My  head's  wild  still. 

Fed.     Be  not  so  full  of  passion, 
Nor  do  not  hang  so  greedily  upon  me ; 
'Twill  be  ill  taken. 

Aim.     Are  ye  weary  of  me  ? 
I  will  hang  here  eternally,  kiss  ever, 
And  weep  away  for  joy. 

Enter  Master. 

Master.     I  told  ye  Sir, 

What  ye  would  do  :    for  shame  do  not  afflict  him ; 
You  have  drawn  his  fit  upon  him  fearfully  : 
Either  depart,  and  presently  ;    I'le  force  ye  else. 
Who  waits  within  ? 

Enter  two  Keepers  to  fetch  'em  off. 

Ped.     Alas  good  Sir. 
This  is  the  way  never  to  hope  recovery.  (Governour, 

Mast.     Stay  but  one  minute  more,  Tie  complain   to   the 
Bring  in  the  boy:  do  you  see  how  he  swells,  and  tears  himself? 
Is  this  your  cure  ?     Be  gone  ;    if  the  boy  miscarry 
Let  me  ne'r  find  you  more,  for  Fie  so  hamper  ye — 

Gent.     You  were  to  blame  :    too  rash. 

Ped.     Farewel  for  ever.  [Exeunt. 

Affius   Quartus.      Scena  Prima. 

Enter  Alphonso,  Gent.  Juletta. 

Gent.  "X^OU   are  now  within  a  mile   oW  Town  Sir  :    if 
J[  (my  business 

Would  give  me  leave,  I  would  turn  and  wait  upon  ye  ; 
But  for  such  Gentlemen  as  you  enquire  of, 
Certain,  I  saw  none  such :    But  for  the  boy  ye  spoke  of, 
I  will  not  say  'tis  he,  but  such  a  one  ; 
Just  of  that  height. 

Alph.     In  such  clothes  ? 

Gent.     I  much  mistake  else, 
Was  sent  in  thj  other  night,  a  little  maddish, 
And  where  such  people  wait  their  cures — 

196 


Sc.  i  THE   PILGRIM 

Alph.     I  understand  ye. 

Gent.     There  you  may  quickly  know. 

Alph.     I  thank  ye  Sir. 

JuL     So  do  I  too :    and  if  there  be  such  a  place, 
no  more  :    but  you  shall  hear  more  of  me, 
She  may  be  there,  and  you  may  play  the  tyrant ; 
Fie  see  what  I  can  do  :    T  am  almost  foundred 
In  following  him  ;    and  yet  Tie  never  leave  him, 
Tie  crawl  of  all  four  first ;    my  cause  is  meritorious, 
And  come  what  can  come. 

Gent.     All  you  have  told  me  is  certain ; 
Complexion,  and  all  else. 

Alph.     It  may  be  she  then ; 

And  I'le  so  fumble  her :    is  she  grown  mad  now  ? 
Is  her  blood  set  so  high  ?   I'le  have  her  madded, 
Fie  have  her  worm'd. 

JuL     Mark  but  the  end,  old  Master, 
If  thou  beest  not  sick  o'th'  Bots  within  these  five  hours, 
And  kickst  and  roar'st ;    Tie  make  ye  fart  fire,  Signior. 

Enter  Alinda,  as  a  fool. 

Gent.     Here's  one  o'th'  house,  a  fool,  an  idiot  Sir ; 
May  be  she  is  going  home  ;    she'l  be  a  guide  to  ye  : 
And  so  I  kiss  your  hand.  [Exit. 

Alph.     I  am  your  servant. 

Alin.    O  now  I  am  lost,  lost,  lost,  Lord,  how  I  tremble ! 
My  Father,  arm'd  in  all  his  hates  and  angers  ; 
This  is  more  misery  than  I  have  scap'd  yet. 

Alph.     Fool,  fool. 

Aim.     He  knows  me  not ;    will   ye  give  me  two  pence  ? 
And  gaffer,  here's  a  Crow-flower,  and  a  Dazie  ; 
I  have  some  pie  in  my  pocket  too. 

Alph.     This  is  an  arrant  fool, 
An  ignorant  thing. 

Aim.     Believe  so,  and  I  am  happy. 

Alph.     Dost  thou  dwell  in  Stgovia,  fool  ? 

Alin.     No  no,  I  dwell  in  Heaven. 
And  I  have  a  fine  little  house,  made  of  Marmalad. 
And  I  am  a  lone  woman,  and  I  spin  for  Saint  Peter  ;     (me. 
I  have  a  hundred  little  children,  and  they  sing  Psalms  with 

197 


THE    PILGRIM  ACT  iv 

Alp.    JTis  pity  this  pretty  thing  should  want  understanding. 
But  why  do  I  stand  talking  with  a  coxcombe  ? 
If  I  do  find  her,  if  I  light  upon  her, 
Tie  say  no  more.     Is  this  the  way  to  th'  Town,  fool  ? 

Alin.     You  must  go  over  the   top   of  that   high   steeple, 

Alp.     A  plague  o'  your  fools  face.  (Gaffer. 

Jul.     No,  take  her  counsel.  (over, 

Aim.  And  then  you  shall  come  to  a  River  twenty  mile 
And  twenty  mile  and  ten  :  and  then  you  must  pray,  Gaffer; 
And  still  you  must  pray,  and  pray. 

Alp.     Pray  Heaven  deliver  me 
From  such  an  ass,  as  thou  art. 

Aim.     Amen,  sweet  Gaffer. 
And  fling  a  sop  of  Suger-cake  into  it ; 
And  then  you  must  leap  in  naked. 

Jul.     Would  he  would  believe  her. 

Aim.    And  sink  seven  daies  together ;  can  ye  sink  gaffer  ? 

Alp.    Yes  coxcomb,  yes;  prethee  farewel:  a  pox  on  thee. 
A  plague  o'  that  fool  too,  that  set  me  upon  thee. 

Aim.  And  then  Tie  bring  you  a  sup  of  Milk  shall  serve  ye : 
I  am  going  to  get  Apples. 

Alp.     Go  to  th'  Devil : 

Was  ever  man  tormented  with  a  puppy  thus  ? 
Thou  tell  me  news  ?   thou  be  a  guide  ? 

Aim.     And  then  Nunkle —  (rail  now 

Alph.     Prethee  keep   on  thy  way  (good  Naunt)  I  could 
These  ten  hours  at  mine  own  improvidence  : 
Get  Apples,  and  be  choak'd  :    farewel.  [Exit. 

Aim.     Farewel  Nunkle. 

7ul.     I  rejoyce  in  any  thing  that  vexes  him  ; 
I  shall  love  this  fool  extreamly  for't : 
Could  I  but  see  my  Mistris  now,  to  tell  her 
How  I  have  truly,  honestly  wrought  for  her, 
How  I  have  worn  my  self  away,  to  serve  her. 
Fool,  there's  a  Royal  for  the  sport  thou  mad'st  me, 
In  crossing  that  old  fool,  that  parted  from  thee. 

Aim.    Thou  art  honest  sure ;  but  yet  thou  must  not  see  me : 
I  thank  ye  little  Gentleman  :    Heaven  bless  ye 
And  Fie  pray  for  ye  too :    pray  ye  keep  this  Nutmeg. 
'Twas  sent  me  from  the  Lady  of  the  Mountain, 

198 


Sc.  i  THE    PILGRIM 

A  golden  Lady. 

Jul.     How  prettily  it  prattles  ! 

Aim.     'Tis  very  good  to  rub  your  understanding  : 
And  so  good  night,  the  Moon's  up. 

Jul.     Pretty  innocent.  \J 

Aim.     Now  fortune,  if  thou  darst  do  good,  protect  me.  |  * 

[Exit. 

Jul.  I'll  follow  him  to  yond'  Town  ;  he  shall  not  'scape  me. 
Stay,  I  must  counterfeit  a  Letter  by  the  way  first,         (else, 
And  one  that  must   carry  some   credit  with  it ;    I  am  wide 
And  all  this  to  no  purpose  that  I  aim  at. 
A  Letter  must  be  had,  and  neatly  handled  ; 
And  then,  if  Goodwife  Fortune  do  not  fail  me, 
Have  at  his  Skirts ;   I  shall  worse  anger  him 
Than  ever  I  have  done,  and  worse  torment  him. 
It  does  me  good  to  think  how  I  shall  conjure  him, 
And  crucifie   his  crabbedness  ;  he's  my  Master, 
But  that's  all  one  ;  I'll  lay  that  on  the  left  hand, 
He  would  now  persecute  my  harmless  Mistriss, 
A  fault  without  forgiveness,  as  I  take  it ; 
And  under  that  bold  Banner  flies  my  vengeance, 
A  meritorious  War,  and  so  I'll  make  it. 
I'th'  name  of  innocence,  what's  this  the  fool  gave  me  ? 
She  said  'twas  good  to  rub  my  understanding. 
What  strange  Concealment  !    Bread  or  Cheese,  or  a  Chesnut  ? 
Ha  !  'tis  a  Ring,  a  pretty  Ring,  a  right  one  ; 
A  Ring  I  know  too  !    the  very  same  Ring  ; 

0  admirable  Blockhead  !    O  base  Eyes  ! 

A  Ring  my  Mistriss  took  from  me  and  wore  it ; 

1  know  it  by  the  Posie  :    [Prick  me,  and  heale  me.~\ 
None  could  deliver  this,  but  she  her  self  too  ; 

Am  I  twice  sand-blind  ?    twice  so  near  the  Blessing 

I  would  arrive  at  ?   and  block-like  never  know  it  ? 

I  am  veng'ance  angry,  but  that  shall  light  on  thee, 

And  heavily,  and  quickly,  I  pronounce  it ; 

There  are  so  many  cross  ways,  there's  no  following  her  ; 

And  yet  I  must  not  now  ;    I  hope  she  is  right  still, 

For  all  her  outward  shew,  for  sure  she  knew  me ; 

And  in  that  hope,  some  few  hours  I'll  forget  her.         [Exit. 

199 


THE    PILGRIM  ACT  iv 

SCENE  II. 

Enter  Roderigo. 

Rod.     She  is  not  to  be  recovered,  which  I  vex  at ; 
And  he   beyond  my  veng'ance,  which  torments  me  ; 

0  !  I  am  fool'd  and  sleighted,  made  a  Rascal ; 
My  hopes  are  flattered,  as  my  present  fortunes  ; 
Why  should  I  wander  thus,  and   play  the  Coxcomb  ? 
Tire  out  my  peace  and  pleasure  for  a  Girl  ? 

A  Girl  that  scorns  me  too  ?    a  thing  that  hates  me  ? 
And  considered  at  the  best,  is  but  a  short  Breakfast 
For  a  hot  appetite  :  why  should  I  walk  and  walk  thus  ? 
And  fret  my  self,  and  travel  like  a  Carrier, 
And  peep,  and  watch  ?  want  Meat,  and  Wine,  to  cherish  me, 
When  thousand  women  may  be  had,  ten  thousand, 
And  thank  me  too,  and  I  sit  still :    well,  trim  Beauty 
And  Chastity,  and  all  that  seem  to  ruine  me, 
Let  me  not  take  ye,  let  me  not  come  near  ye, 
For  I'll  so  trim  ye,  I'll  so  bustle  with  ye  j 
'Tis  not  the  name  of  Virgin  shall  redeem  ye, 
I'll  change  that   property  :   nor  tears,  nor  angers  ; 

1  bear  a  hate  about  me  scorns  those  follies.  , 
To  find  this  Villain  too,  for  there's  my  main  prize  :  K/ 
And  if  he  snap  me  then. 

Enter  Alinda. 

Almd.     Is  not  that  Pedro  ? 
'Tis  he,  'tis  he :    O  ! 

Rod.     What  art  thou  ? 

Almd.     Ha  ?  now,  now,  now, 
O  now  most  miserable. 

Rod.     What  a  Devil  art  thou? 

Aim.     No  end  of  my  misfortunes,  Heaven  ? 

Rod.     What  antick? 
Speak  Puppet,  speak. 

Almd.     That  habit  to  betray  me  ? 
Ye  holy  Saints,  can  ye  see  this  ? 

Rod.     It  danceth  ; 

The  Devil  in  a  Fools  Coat,  is  he  turn'd  Innocent  ? 
What  mops  and  mows  it  makes  !  heigh  !  how  it  frisketh  ! 

200 


Sc.  ii  THE    PILGRIM 

Is't  not  a  Fairy,  or  some  small  Hobgoblin  ? 

It  has  a  mortal  face,  and  I  have  a  great  mind  to  it, 

But  if  it  should  prove  the  Devil  then. 

Alin.     Come  hither. 

Rod.     I  think  'twill  ravish  me, 
It  is  a  handsome  thing,  but  horribly  Sun-burnt, 
What's  that  it  points  at  ? 

Aim.     Dost  thou  see  that  star  there, 
That  just  above  the  Sun  ? 
Prithee  go  thither,  and  light  me  this  Tobacco, 
And  stop  it  with  the  horns  o'th'  Moon. 

Rod.     The  thing's  mad, 
Abominably  mad,  her  brains  are  butter'd, 
Go  sleep,  fool,  sleep. 

Aim.     Thou  canst  not  sleep  so  sweetly ; 
For  so  I  can  say  my  Prayers,  and  then  slumber. 

/  am  not  proud,  nor  full  of  Wine, 
This  little  Flower   will  make  me  fine  ; 
Cruel  in  Heart,  for  I  will  cry, 
If  I  see  a  Sparrow  dye  ; 
/  am  not  watchful  to  do  ill, 
Nor  glorious  to  pursue  it  still ; 
Nor  pitiless  to  those  that  weep  ; 
Such  as  are,  bid   them  go  sleep. 

Do,  do,  do,  and  see  if  they  can. 

Rod.     It  said  true. 
I  feel  it  sink  into  me  forcibly  : 
Sure  'tis  a  kind  of  Sibyl,  some  mad  Prophet ; 
I  feel   my  wildness    bound,  and  fetter'd  in  me. 

Alin.     Give  me  your  hand,  and  I'll  tell  you  what's  your 

Rod.     Here,  prithee  speak.  (fortune. 

Alin.     Fye,  fye,  fye,  fye,  fye. 

Wash  your  hands,  and  pare  your  nails,  and  look  finely, 
You  shall  never  kiss  the  Kings  Daughter  else. 

Rod.     I  wash  'em  daily. 

Alin.     But  still  you  foul  'em  faster. 

Rod.     This  goes  nearer. 

Alin.     You'll  have  two  Wives. 

Rod.     Two  Wives  ? 

201 


THE    PILGRIM  ACT  iv 

Aim.     I,  two  fine  Gentlewomen, 

Make  much  of  'em  ;    for  they'll  stick  close  to  you,  Sir : 
And  these  two,  in  two  days. 

Rod.     That's  a  fine  Riddle. 

Aim.     To  day  you  shall  wed  sorrow, 
And  repentance  will  come  to  morrow. 

Rod.     Sure  she's  inspired. 

Aim.     I'll  sing  ye  a  fine  Song,  Sir. 

He  called  down  his  merry  men  all, 

By  one,  by  two,  by  three, 
William  would  fain  have  been  the  first, 

But  now  the  last  is  he. 

Rod.     This  the  meer  Chronicle  of  my  mishaps,    (yonder, 

Aim.     I'll  bid  you  good  ev'n,  for  my  Boat  stays  for  me 

And  I  must  sup  with  the  Moon  to  Night  in  the  Mediterraneum. 

[Exit. 

Rod.     When  fools  and  mad  folks  will  be  Tutors  to  me, 
And  feel  my  sores,  yet  I  unsensible ; 
Sure  it  was  set  by  Providence  upon  me 
To  steer  my  heart  right,  I  am  wondrous  weary, 
My  thoughts  too,  which  add  more  burthen  to  me; 
I  have  been  ill,   and  (which  is  worse)  pursu'd  it, 
And  still  run  on  ;    I  must  think  better,  nobler, 
And  be  another  thing,  or  not  at  all. 

Enter  four  Pesants. 

Still  I  grow  heavier,  heavier,  Heaven  defend  me  ; 

I'll  lye  down,  and  take  rest ;    and  goodness  guard  me. 

1  Pes.  We  have  'scaped  to  day  well  ;  certain  if  the  Out-laws 
Had  known  we  had  been  stirring,  we  had  paid  for't. 

2  Pes.     'Plague  on  'em,  they  have  rob'd  me  thrice. 

3  Pes.     And  me  five  times  : 

Beside  they  made  my  Daughter  one  of  us  too 

An  arrant  Drum  :  O,  they  are  the  lewdest  Rascals, 

The  Captain  such  a  damn'd  piece  of  iniquitie  : 

But  we  are  far  enough  off  on  'em,  that's  the  best  on't, 

They  cannot  hear. 

4.     They'le  come  to  me  familiarly 
And  eat  up  all  I  have  :  drink  up  my  wine  too, 

202 


Sc.  ii  THE    PILGRIM 

And  if  there  be  a  Servant  that  contents  'em, 
Let  her  keel  hold,  they'l  give  her  Stowage  enough  : 
We  have  no  Children  now,  but  Thieves,  and  Outlaws. 
The  very  Brats  in  their  Mothers  bellies  have  their  qualities. 
They'l  steal  into  the  world. 

1.  Would  we  had  some  of  'em  here. 

2.  I,  o'  that  condition  we  could  Master  'em, 
They  are  sturdy  knaves. 

3.  A  Devil  take  their  sturdiness, 

We  can  neither  keep  our  wives  from  'em  nor  our  States, 
We  pay  the  Rent,  and  they  possess  the  benefit. 

1.  What's  this  lies  here?  is  it  drunk,  or  sober? 
It  sleeps,  and  soundly  too. 

2.  'Tis  an  old  woman 

That  keeps  sheep  hereabouts :  it  turns,  and  stretches. 

4.  Do's  she  keep  sheep  with  a  sword  ? 

3.  It  has  a  Beard  too. 

1 .  Peace,  peace  :  it  is  the  Devil  Roderigo, 
Peace  of  all  hands,  and  look. 

2.  'Tis  he. 

3.  Speak  softly. 

4.  Now  we  may  fit  him. 

3.  Stay,  stay  :  let's  be  provident. 

1.  Kill  him,  and  wake  him  then. 

4.  Let  me  come  to  him, 

Ev'n  one  blow  at  his  pate,  if  e're  he  wake  more. 
3.     So,  so,  so,  lay  that  by. 

2.  I  must  needs  kill  him, 
It  stands  with  my  reputation. 

3.  Stand  off,  I  say  : 

And  let  us  some  way  make  him  sure ;  then  torture  him. 

To  kill  him  presently,  has  no  pleasure  in't. 

H'as  been  tormenting  of  us,  at  least  this  twelve  moneth. 

Rod.     Oh  me  ! 

AIL     He  comes  :  he  comes. 

4.  Has  he  no  Guns  about  him  ? 

3.     Softly  again  :  no,  no  :  take  that  hand  easily, 
And  tye  it  fast  there  :  that  to  th'  other  bough  there. 
Fast,  fast,  and  easie  lest  he  wake. 

2.     Have  we  got  ye  ? 

203 


THE   PILGRIM  ACT  iv 

This  was  a  benefit  we  never  aim'd  at. 

3.     Out  with  your  knives,  and  let's  carve  this  Cockthief, 
Daintily  carve  him. 

2.  I  would  he  had  been  used  thus 

Ten  year  agoe  ;  we  might  have  thought  we  had  children. 

3.  O,  that  Sir  Nicholas  now  our  Priest  were  here, 
What  a  sweet  Homily  would  he  say  over  him, 

For  ringing  all  in,  with  his  wife  in  the  Bell-frey  ! 
He  would  stand  up  stiffe  girt,  now  pounce  him  lightly 
And  as  he  roars,  and  rages,  let's  go  deeper  : 
Come  near  :  you  are  dim-ey'd  :  on  with  your  spectacles. 

Rod.     O,  what  torments    me    thus  ?    what    slaves,  what 
O  spare  me,  do  not  murther  me.  (villains  ? 

3.  We'l  but  tickle  ye, 

You  have  tickled  us  at  all  points. 

4.  Where  are  his  Emblemes  ? 

Enter  Pedro. 

Rod.     As  ye  are  men,  and  Christians. 

2.     Yes  we  hear  ye, 
And  you  shall  hear  of  us  too. 

Rod.     O  no  mercy. 

Ped.     What  noise  is  this  ?  what  roar  ?  I  cannot  find  her, 
She  is  got  free  again  :    but  where,  or  which  way  ? 

Rod.     O  villains,  beasts. 

Ped.     Murdering  a  man,  ye  Rascals  ? 
Ye  inhumane  slaves,  off,  off,  and  leave  this  cruelty, 
Or  as  I  am  a  Gentleman  :    do  ye  brave  me  ? 
Then  have  among  ye  all,  ye  slaves,  ye  cowards, 
Take  up  that  sword,  and  stand :  stay  ye  base  rascals, 
Ye  cut-throat  rogues. 

All.     Away,  away.  [Exeunt  Pes. 

Ped.     Ye  dog-whelps. 

Rod.     O,  I  am  now  more  wretched  far,  than  ever. 

Ped.  A  violence  to  that  habit  ?  ha  ?  Roderigo^ 
What  makes  he  here,  thus  clad  ?  is  it  repentance, 
Or  only  a  fair  shew  to  guile  his  mischiefs? 

Rod.     This  benefit  has  made  me  shame  to  see  him, 
To  know  him,  blush. 
*   Ped.     You  are  not  much  hurt  ? 

204 


Sc.  ii  THE    PILGRIM 

Rod.     No  Sir; 

All  I  can  call  a  hurt,  sticks  in  my  conscience, 
That  pricks  and  tortures  me. 

Fed.     Have  ye  considered 

The  nature  of  these  men,  and  how  they  us'd  ye  ? 
Was  it  fair  play  ?   did  it  appear  to  you  handsom  ? 

Rod.     I  dare  not  speak :    or  if  I  do  'tis  nothing 
Can  bring  me  off,  or  justifie  me. 

Fed.     Was  it  noble 

To  be  o' re-laid  with  odds,  and  violence  ? 
Manly,  or  brave  in  these  thus  to  oppress  ye  ? 
Do  you  blush  at  this,  in  such  as  are  meer  rudeness, 
That  have  stopt  souls,  that  never  knew  things  gentle  ? 
And  dare  you  glorifie  worse  in  your  self  Sir  ? 
Ye  us'd  me  with  much  honour,  and  I  thank  ye, 
In  this  I  have  requited  some  :    ye  know  me  : 
Come  turn  not  back,  ye  must,  and  ye  shall  know  me  ; 
Had  I  been  over  seasoned  with  base  anger, 
And  suited  all  occasions  to  my  mischiefs, 
Bore  no  respedt  to  honesty,  Religion, 
No  faith,  no  common  tye  of  man,  humanity, 
Had  I  had  in  me,  but  given  reins,  and  licence 
To  a  tempestuous  will,  as  wild  as  winter, 
This  day,  know  Roderigo^  I  had  set 
As  small  a  price  upon  thy  life  and  fortunes, 
As  thou  didst  lately  on  mine  innocence  ; 
But  I  reserve  thee  to  a  nobler  service. 

Rod.     I  thank  ye,  and  Fie  study  more  to  honour  ye  : 
You  have  the  nobler  soul,  I  must  confess  it, 
And  are  the  greater  Master  of  your  goodness. 
Though  it  be  impossible  I  would  now  recover, 
And  my  rude  will  grow   handsom  in   an   instant, 
Yet  touching  but  the   pureness  of  your  metal, 
Something  shall  shew  like  gold,  at  least  shall  glister, 
That  men  may  hope,  although  the  mind  be  rugged, 
Stony,  and  hard  to  work,  yet  time,  and  honour 
V  j  Shall  find  and  bring  forth  that,  that's  rich  and  worthy. 

Fed.     Tie  trie  that  :  and  toth'  purpose  :  ye  told  me  Sir 
In  noble  emulation,  so  I  take  it ; 
Tie  put  your  hatred  far  off,  and  forget  it, 

205 


THE    PILGRIM  ACT  iv 

You  had  a  fair  desire  to  try  my  valour : 

You  seem'd  to  court  me  to  it ;  you  have  found  a  time, 

A  weapon  in  your  hand,  an  equal  enemy, 

That,  as  he  puts  this  off,  puts  off  all  injuries, 

And  only  now  for  honours  sake  defies  ye  : 

Now,  as  you  are  a  man,  I  know  you  are  valiant, 

As  you  are  gentle  bred,  a  Souldier  fashioned. 

Rod.     His  vertue  startles  me.     I  dare  fight  Pedro. 

Ped.     And   as  you  have  a  Mistris  that  you  honour, 
Mark  me,  a  Mistris. 

Rod.     Ha  ? 

Ped.     A  handsome  Mistris, 
As  you  dare  hold  your  self  deserving  of  her. 

Rod.     Deserving  ?  what  a  word  was  that  to  fire  me  ? 

Ped.     I  could  compel  ye  now  without  this  circumstance, 
But  Tie  deal  free,  and  fairly,  like  a  Gentleman  : 
As  ye  are  worthy  of  the  name  ye  carry, 
A  daring  man. 

Rod.     O  that  I  durst  not  suffer  : 
For  all  I  dare  do  now,  implies  but  penance. 

Ped.     Now  do  me  noble  right. 

Rod.     I'll  satisfie  ye  ; 

But  not  by  thj  sword,  pray  you  hear  me,  and  allow  me ; 
I  have  been  rude ;    but  shall  I  be  a  Monster, 
And  teach  my  Sword  to  hurt  that  that  preserv'd  me  ? 
Though  I  be  rough  by  nature,  shall  my  name 
Inherit  that  eternal  stain  of  barbarous  ? 
Give  me  an  enemy,  a  thing  that  hates  ye, 
That  never  heard  of  yet,  nor  felt  your  goodness, 
That  is  one  main  antipathy  to  sweetness  ; 
And  set  me  on,  you  cannot  hold  me  Coward  ; 
If  I  have  ever  err'd,  'thas  been  in  hazard  ; 
The  temper  of  my  Sword  starts  at  your  Vertue, 
And  will  flye  off,  nay  it  will  weep  to  light  ye  ; 
Things  excellently  mingled,  and  of  pure  nature, 
Hold  sacred  Love,  and  peace  with  one  another, 
See  how  it  turns. 

Ped.     This  is  a  strange  Conversion  : 
And  can  ye  fail  your  Mistriss  ?    can  ye  grow  cold 
In  such  a  case  ? 

206 


Sc.  n  THE    PILGRIM 

Rod.     Those  heats  that  they  add  to  us, 
(O  noble  Pedro)  let  us  feel  'em  rightly, 
And  rightly  but  consider  how  they  move  us. 

Ped.     Is  not  their  honour  ours  ? 

Rod.     If  they  be  vertuous, 

And  then  the  Sword  adds  nothing  to  their  lustre, 
But  rather  calls  in  question  what's  not  doubted  ; 
If  they  be  not,  the  best  Swords,  and  best  valours 
Can  never  fight  'em  up  to  fame  again  ; 
No,  not  a  Christian  War,  and  that's  held  pious. 

Ped.     How  bravely  now  he  is  tempered  !    I  must  fight, 
And  rather  make  it  honourable,  than  angry, 
I  would  not  task  those  sins  to  me  committed.  Cem> 

Rod.     You  cannot,  Sir,  you  have  cast  those  by :  discarded 
And  in  a  noble  mind,  so  low,  and  loosely 
To  look  back,  and  collect  such  lumps,  and  lick  'em 
Into  new  horrid  forms  again — 

Ped.     Still  braver. 

Rod.     To  fight,  because  I  dare,  were  worse  and  weaker 
Than  if  I  had  a  woman  in  my  cause,  Sir, 
And  more  proclaim'd  me  fool :    yet  I  must  confess 
I  have  been  covetous  of  all  occasions, 
And  this  I  have  taken  upon  trust,  for  noble, 
The  more  shame  mine  :    devise  a  way  to  fight  thus, 
That  like  the  wounded  air,  no  bloud  may  issue, 
Nor  where  the  Sword  shall  enter,  no  lost  spirit, 
And  set  me  on  :    1  would  not  scare  that  body, 
That  vertuous,  valiant  body,  nor  deface  it 
To  make  the  Kingdom  mine  :    if  one  must  bleed, 
Let  me  be  both  the  Sacrifice  and  Altar, 
And  you  the  Priest ;    I  have  deserv'd  to  suffer. 

Ped.     The  noble  Roderigoy  now  I  call  ye, 
And  thus  my  love  shall  ever  count,  and  hold  ye. 

Rod.     I  am  your  servant,  Sir,  and  now  this  habit, 
Devotion,  not  distrust  shall  put  upon  me, 
I'll  wait  upon  your  fortunes,  that's  my  way  now, 
And  where  you  grieve,  or  joy,  I'll  be  a  Partner. 

Ped.     I  thank  ye,  Sir,  I  shall  be  too  proud  of  ye, 
O  I  could  tell  ye  strange  things. 

Rod.     I  guess  at  'em, 

207 


THE    PILGRIM  ACT  iv 

And  I  could  curse  my  self,  I  made  'em  stranger ; 
Yet  my  mind  says  you  are  not  far  from  happiness.  •  y 

Fed.     It  shall  be  welcome  5  come,  let's  keep  up  thus  still!  p 
And  be  as  we  appear ;    Heavens  hand  may  bless  us. 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE   III. 

Enter  Alphonso,  Master  and  Keepers. 

Mast.     Yes,  Sir,  here  be  such  people ;    but  how  pleasing 
They  will  appear  to  you. 

Alph.     'Pray  let  me  see  'em, 
I  come  to  that  end  ;    'pray  let  me  see  'em  all.  (ward, 

Mast.     They  will  confound  ye,  Sir,  like  Bells  rung  back- 
They  are  nothing  but  Confusion,  and  meer  Noises. 

Alph.     May  be  I  love  a  noise  ;    but  hark  ye,  Sir, 
Have  ye  no  Boys  ?   handsome  young  Boys  ? 

Mast.     Yes,  one,  Sir, 
A  very  handsome  Boy. 

Alph.     Long  here  ? 

Mast.     But  two  days  ; 
A  little  crazed  ;    but  much  hope  of  recovery. 

Alp.     I,  that  Boy,  let  me  see,  may  be  I  know  him, 
That  Boy  I  say  ;   this  is  the  Boy  he  told  me  of, 
And  it  must  need  be  she  ;    that  Boy,  I  beseech  ye,  Sir, 
That  Boy  I  come  to  see. 

Mast.     And  ye  shall  see  him ; 
Or  any  else  :    but  pray  be  not  too  violent.  (cies  ; 

Alph.     I  know  what  to  do,  I  warrant  ye  ;   I  am  for  all  fan- 
I  can  talk  to  'em,  and  dispute. 

I  Keep.      As  madly  ; 
For  they  are  very  mad,  Sir. 

Alph.     Let  'em  be  horn-mad.  (their  own,  Sir, 

i  Keep.     We  have  few  Citizens  :    they  have  Bedlams  of 
And  are  mad  at  their  own  charges. 

Alph.     Who  lyes  here? 

Mast.    'Pray  ye  do  not  disturb  'em,  Sir,  here  lie  such  youths 
Will  make  you  start  if  they  but  dance  their  trenchmores, 
Fetch  out  the  Boy,  Sirrah  ;    hark  ! 

[Shake  Irons  within.     English  mad-men.  Scholar, 

[Parson,  Jenkin. 

208 


Sc.  m  THE    PILGRIM 

Alph.     Heigh  Boys. 

Eng.     Bounce, 
Clap  her  o'th'  star-board  ;    bounce,  top  the  Can. 

Schol.     Dead  ye  dog,  dead,  do  ye  quarrel  in  my  Kingdom  ? 
Give  me  my  trident. 

Eng.     Bounce,  'twixt  wind  and  water, 
Loaden  with  Mackrel ;    O  brave  meat. 

Schol.     My  Sea  horses  ; 
I'll  charge  the  Northern  Wind,  and  break  his  Bladder. 

Pars.     Fll  sell  my  Bells  before  I  be  out-brav'd  thus. 

Alph.     What's  he  ?   what's  he  ? 

Mast.     A  Parson,  Sir,  a  Parson 
That  run  mad  for  tyth  Goslings. 

Alph.     Green  sawce  cure  him. 

Pars.     I'll  curse  ye  all,  I'll  excommunicate  ye ; 
Thou  English  Heretick,  give  me  the  tenth  Pot. 

Eng.     Sue  me,  I'll  drink  up  all,  bounce  I  say  once  more. 
O  have  I  split  your  Mizen  ?    blow,  blow  thou  West-wind, 
Blow  till  thou  rive,  and  make  the  Sea  run  roaring. 
I'll  hiss  it  down  again  with  a  Bottle  of  Ale. 

Schol.      Triton,  why   Triton. 

Eng.      Triton's  drunk  with  Metheglin. 

Seb.     Strike,  strike  the  surges,  strike. 

Eng.     Drink,  drink,  'tis  day  light ; 
Drink,  didle,  didle,  didle,  drink,  Parson,  proud  Parson  ; 
A  Pigs  tail  in  thy  teeth,  and  I  defie  thee. 

Par.     Give  me  some  porridg,  or  I'll  damn  thee,  English. 

Alph.     How  comes  this  English  mad  man  here  ? 

Mast.     Alas,  that's  no  question  ; 
They  are  mad  every  where,  Sir  ; 
Their  fits  are  cool  now,  let  'em  rest. 

Enter  Keepers  and  She-foots. 

Alph.     Mad  Gallants ; 
Most  admirable  mad  ;    I  love  their  faces.         (lookt  to  him  ? 

1  Keep.     Ye   stinking   Whore,  who   knew  of  this  ?    who 
'Pox  take  him,  he  was  sleepy  when  I  left  him. 

2  Keep.     Certain  he  made  the  fool  drunk. 
Mast.     How  now,  who's  this  here  ? 

Where  is  the  Boy  ?  • 

B.-F.  v.  o  209 


THE    PILGRIM  ACT  iv 

I  Keep.     The  Boy,  Sir  ? 

Mast.     I,  the  Boy,  Sir. 

i  Keep.     Here's  all  the  Boys  we  found. 

Mast.     These  are  his  Cloaths. 
But  where's  the  Boy  ? 

She-fool.     The  Boy  is  gone  a  Maying,  (ter  ? 

He'll  bring  me  home  a  Cuckows  Nest ;    do  you  hear,  Mas- 
I  put  my  Cloaths  off,  and  I  dizen'd  him, 
And  pin'd  a  Plum  in's  forehead,  and  a  feather, 
And  buss'd  him  twice,  and  bid  him  go  seek  his  fortune  ; 
He  gave  me  this  fine  money,  and  fine  Wine  too, 
And  bid  me  sop  ;    and  gave  me  these  trim  Cloaths  too, 
And  put  'em  on. 

Alph.     Is  this  the  Boy  you  would  shew  ? 

She-fool.     I'll  give  you  two  pence,  Master. 

Alph.     Am  I  fool'd  of  all  sides  ? 
I  met  a  fool  i'th'  Woods,  they  said  she  dwelt  here, 
In  a  long  pied  Coat. 

Mast.     That  was  the  very  Boy,  Sir. 

She-f.     I,  I,  I,  I  gave  him  leave  to  play,  forsooth, 
He'll  come  again  to  morrow,  and  bring  peascods. 

Mast.     I'll  bring  your  bones. 

Alph.     'Pox  o'  your  fools,  and  Bedlams, 
'Plague  o'  your  Owls  and  Apes. 

Mast.     'Pray  ye,  Sir,  be  tamer, 
We  cannot  help  this  presently,  but  we  shall  know  ; 
I'll  recompence  your  Care  too. 

Alph.     Know  me,  a  pudding, 
You  juggle,  and  ye  riddle  ;    fart  upon  ye ; 
I  am  abused. 

Mast.     'Pray  ye,  Sir.  [Welsh  mad-man. 

Alph.     And  I  will  be  abused,  Sir, 
And  you  shall  know  I  am  abused. 

Welsh.     Whaw,  Mr.  Keeper. 

Alph.     'Pox  o'  thy  whaws,  and  thy  whyms, 
'Pox  o'  thy  urship.  (wash-brew, 

Wei.     Give  me  some  Ceeze,  and  Onions  ;  give  me  some 

I  have  in  my  bellies,  give  me  abundance, 

Pendragon  was  a  Shentleman,  marg  you,  Sir, 

And  the  Organs  at  Rixum  were  made  by  Revelations, 

210 


Sc.  in  THE   PILGRIM 

There  is  a  spirit  blows,  and  blows  the  Bellows, 
And  then  they  sing. 

Alph.     What  Moon-calf's  this  ?   what  dream  ? 

Mast.     Tray  ye,  Sir,  observe  him, 
He  is  a  Mountaineer,  a  man  of  Goteland. 

Welsh.     I  will  beat  thy  face  as  black  as  a  blue  Clout, 
I  will  leave  no  more  sheet  in  thine  eyes. 

Mast.     He  will  not  hurt  ye. 

Welsh.    Give  me  a  great  deal  of  Guns;  thou  art  the  Devils, 
I  know  thee  by  thy  tails  ;    poor  Owen's  hungry, 
I  will  peg  thy  bums  full  of  Bullets. 

Alph.     This  is  the  rarest  Rascal, 
He  speaks  as  if  he  had  butter-milk  in's  mouth, 
Is  this  any  thing  akin  to  th'  English  ? 

Mast.     The  elder  Brother,  Sir, 
He  run  mad  because  a  Rat  eat  up's  Cheese. 

Alph.     H'ad  a  great  deal  of  reason,  Sir. 

Welsh.     Basilus  manusy  is  for  an  old  Codpiss,  mark  ye, 
I  will  borrow  thy  Urships  Whore  to  seal  a  Letter. 

Mast.     Now  he  grows  villainous. 

Alph.     Methinks  he's  best  now. 

Mast.     Away  with  him. 

Alph.     He  shall  not. 

Mast.     Sir,  he  must. 

Welsh.     I  will  sing  and  dance, 
Do  any  thing. 

Alph.     Wilt  thou  declaim  in  Greek? 

Mast.     Away  with  the  fool, 
And  whip  her  soundly,  Sirrah. 

She  fool.     I'll  tell  no  more  tales.  [Exit. 

Alph.     Or  wilt  thou  flye  i'th'  air? 

Eng.     Do,  and  I'll  catch  thee. 

And  like  a  wisp  of  Hay,  I'll  whirl,  and  whirl  thee, 
And  puff  thee  up,  and  puff  thee  up. 

Schol.     I'll  save  thee, 
And  thou  shalt  fall  into  the  Sea,  soft,  softly.  (men. 

Welsh.     I'll  get  upon  a  mountain,  and  call  my  Country- 

Mast.     They  all  grow  wild,  away  with  him  for  Heavens 
Sir,  ye  are  much  to  blame.  (sake, 

Alph.     No,  no,  'tis  brave,  Sir, 

02  211 


THE   PILGRIM  ACT  iv 

Ye  have  cozen' d  me;   I'll  make  you  mad. 

Mast.     In  with  him, 
And  lock  him  fast. 

Alph.     I'll  see  him  in  his  lodging.  [Exit. 

Mast.     What  means  this  Gentleman  ? 

Enter  Juletta. 

Jul.     He's  in  ;    have  at  him, 
Are  you  the  Master,  Sir  ? 

Mast.     What  would  you  with  him  ? 

Jul.     I  have  a  business  from  the  Duke  of  Medina, 
Is  there  not  an  old  Gentleman  come  lately  in  ? 

Mast.     Yes,  and  a  wild  one  too,  but  not  a  Prisoner. 

Jul.    Did  you  observe  him  well  ?   'tis  like  it  may  be  he. 

Mast.     I  have  seen  younger  men  of  better  temper. 

Jul.     You  have  hit  the  cause  I  come  for  ;  there's  a  Letter, 
Pray  ye  peruse  it  well ;    I  shall  be  wi'  ye  ; 
And  suddenly,  I  fear  not,  finely,  daintily, 
I  shall  so  feed  your  fierce  vexation, 
And  raise  your  Worships  storms  ;    I  shall  so  niggle  ye, 
And  juggle  ye,  and  fiddle  ye,  and  firk  ye  : 
I'll  make  ye  curse  the  hour  ye  vext  a  Woman  ; 
I'll  make  ye  shake  when  our  Sex  are  but  sounded  ; 
For  the  Lords  sake  we  shall  have  him  at ;    I  long  to  see  it 
As  much  as  for  my  wedding  night ;    I  gape  after  it. 

Mast.     This  Letter  says  the  Gentleman  is  lunatick, 
I  half  suspected  it. 

7ul.     'Tis  very  true,  Sir, 
such  pranks  he  has  plaid. 

Mast.     He's  some  great  man, 

The  Duke  commands  me  with  such  care  to  look  to  him, 
And  if  he  grow  too  violent,  to  correct  him, 
To  use  the  speediest  means  for  his  recovery, 
And  those  he  must  find  sharp. 

Jul.     The  better  for  him. 

Mast.     How  got  ye  him  hither  ? 

Jul.     With  a  train,  I  told  him ; 
He's  in  love  with  a  Boy,  there  lyes  his  melancholy. 

Mast.     Hither  he  came  to  seek  one. 

Jul.     Yes,  I  sent  him, 

212 


Sc.  HI  THE   PILGRIM 

Now  had  we  dealt  by  force,  we  had  never  brought  him. 

Mast.     Here  was  a  Boy. 

yul.     He  saw  him  not  ? 

Mast.     He  was  gone  first. 

Jut.     It  is  the  better ;    look  you  to  your  charge  well ; 
I'll  see  him  lodged,  for  so  the  Duke  commanded  me, 
He  will  be  very  rough. 

Mast.     We  are  us'd  to  that,  Sir, 
And  we  as  rough  as  he,  if  he  give  occasion. 

Jul.     You  will  find  him  gainful,  but  be  sure  ye  curb  him, 
And  get  him,  if  ye  can  fairly,  to  his  lodging, 

Enter  Alphonso. 

I  am  afraid  ye  will  not. 

Mast.     We  must  sweat  then.  (noise, 

Alph.    What  dost  thou  talk  to  me  of  noises  ?  I'l  have  more 
I'll  have  all  loose,  and  all  shall  play  their  prizes ; 
Thy  Master  has  let  loose  the  Boy  I  lookt  for, 
Basely  convey'd  him  hence. 

Keep.     Will  ye  go  out,  Sir  ? 

Alph.     I  will  not  out ;    I  will  have  all  out  with  me, 

[Shake  Irons. 

I'll  have  thy  Master  in  ;   he's  only  mad  here  :  (Boys. 

And  Rogues,  I'll  have  ye  all  whipt ;   heigh,  mad  Boys,  mad 

Jul.     Do  you  perceive  him  now  ? 

Mast.     'Tis  too  apparent. 

Jul.     I  am  glad  she  is  gone ;    he  raves  thus. 

Mast.     Do  you  hear,  Sir  ? 

'Pray  will  ye  make  less  stir,  and  see  your  Chamber, 
Call  in  more  help,  and  make  the  Closet  ready.  (ye. 

Keep.     I  thought  he  was  mad  ;   I'll  have  one  long  lash  at 

Alph.     My    Chamber  ?    where    my  Chamber  ?   why    my 
Where's  the  young  Boy  ?  (Chamber  ? 

Mast.  Nay,  Pray  ye,  Sir,  be  more  modest 
For  your  own  Credit  sake ;  the  people  see  ye, 
And  I  would  use  ye  with  the  best. 

Alph.     Best,  hang  ye, 
What  dost  thou  think  me  mad  ? 

Mast.     Pray,  and  be  civil, 
Heaven  may  deliver  ye. 

213 


THE   PILGRIM  ACT  iv 

Alph.     Into  a  rogues  hands. 

Mast.     You  do  but  draw  more  misery  upon  ye, 
And  add  to  your  disease. 

Alph.     Get  from  me. 

Mast.     No  Sir, 

You  must  not  be  left  so  :    bear  your  self  civilly, 
And  'twill  be  better  for  ye  :    swell  not,  nor  chafe  not. 

Alp.     I  am  a  Gentleman,  and  a  neighbour,  rascal. 

Mast.     A  great  deal  the  more  pity :   I  have  heard  of  ye. 

Jut.     Excellent  Master. 

Mast.     The  Duke  is  very  tender  too. 

Alpb.     Am  I  lunatique  ?   am  I  run  mad  ? 
What  dost  thou  talk  to  me  of  Dukes,  and  Devils, 
Why  do  the  people  gape  so  ? 

Mast.     Do  not  anger  'em, 
But  go  in  quietly,  and  slip  in  softly 
They  will  so  tew  ye,  else,  I  am  commanded  Sir. 

Alph.     Why,  prethee  why  ? 

Mast.     Ye  are  dog-mad  :    you  perceive  it  not, 
Very  far  mad  :   and  whips  will  scant  recover  ye. 

Alph.     Ha  !    whips  ? 

Mast.     I  whips,  and  sore  whips,  and  ye  were  a  Lord  Sir, 
If  ye  be  stubborn  here. 

Alph.     Whips  ?    what  am  I  grown  ? 

Jut.     O  I  could  burst  :  hold,  hold,  hold,  hold  o'  both  ends, 
How  he  looks,  pray  heaven,  he  be  not  mad  indeed. 

Alph.     I  do  not  perceive  I  am  so ;    but  if  you  think  it, 
Nor  Fie  be  hangd  if  't  be  so. 

Mast.     Do  you  see  this  Sir  ?  [Irons  brought  in. 

Down  with  that  Devil  in  ye. 

Alph.     Indeed  I  am  angry, 

But  I'le  contain  my  self:    O  I  could  burst  now, 
And  tear  my  self,  but  these  rogues  will  torment  me, 
Mad  in  mine  old  days  ?    make  mine  own  afflictions  ? 

Mast.     What  do  you  mutter  Sir  ? 

Alph.     Nothing,  Sir,  nothing  ; 
I  will  go  in,  and  quietly,  most  civilly  : 

And  good  Sir,  let  none  of  your  tormentors  come  about  me, 
You  have  a  gentle  face  ;    they  look  like  Dragons. 

Mast.     Be  civil  and  be  safe :   come,  for  these  two  daies 

214 


ACTV  THE    PILGRIM 

Ye  must  eat  nothing  neither :    'twill  ease  your  fits  Sir. 

Alph.    'Twill  starve  me  Sir ;  but  I  must  bear  it  joyfully. 
I  may  sleep  ? 

Mast.     Yes,  a  little :    go  in  with  these  men. 

Alph.     O  miserable  me  !  [Exit. 

Mast.     Fie  follow  presently, 
You  see  'tis  done  Sir, 

7uL     Ye  have  done  it  handsomely, 
I'le  inform  the  Duke  so  :   pray  ye  attend  him, 
Let  him  want  nothing,  but  his  will. 

Mast.     He  shall  not, 
And  if  he  be  rebellious — 

Jul.     Never  spare  him  : 
H'as  flesh,  and  hide  enough,  he  loves  a  whipping. 

Mast.     My  service  to  his  Grace.  [Exit. 

Jul.     I  shall  commend  it. 

So,  thou  art  fast :    I  must  go  get  some  fresh  room 
To  laugh,  and  caper  in  :    O  how  it  tickles  me  ! 
O  how  it  tumbles  me  with  joy  !    thy  mouth's  stopt : 
Now  if  I  can  do  my  Mistris  good,  I  am  Sainted.          [Exit. 

Attus  Quintus.     Scena  Prima. 

Enter  Seberto,  Curio. 

Seb.   ~XJOW>  °'  m7  conscience,  we  have  lost  him  utterly, 
1\|       He's  not  gone  home  :  we  heard  from  thence  this 
And  since  our  parting  last  at  Roderigo's  (morning, 

You  know  what  ground  we  have  travel'd. 

Cur.     He's  asleep  sure  : 

For  if  he  had  been  awake,  we  should  have  met  with  him  : 
'Faith  let's  turn  back,  we  have  but  a  fruitless  journey  ; 
And  to  hope  further  of  Alindas  recovery, 
(For  sure  she'l  rather  perish  than  return) 
Is  but  to  seek  a  Moth  i'th'  Sun. 

Seb.     We'l  on  sure  ; 

Something  we'l  know,  some  cause  of  all  this  fooling, 
Make  some  discovery. 

Cur.     Which  way  shall  we  cast  then, 
For  all  the  Champion  Country,  and  the  villages, 

215 


THE   PILGRIM  ACT  v 

And  all  those  sides  ? 

Seb.     We'l  cross  these  woods  awhile  then  : 
Here  if  we  fail,  we'l  gallop  to  Segovia. 
And  if  we  light  of  no  news  there,  hear  nothing  ; 
We'l  even  turn  fairly  home,  and  coast  the  other  side. 

Cur.     He  may  be  sick,  or  fain  into  some  danger ; 
He  has  no  guide,  nor  no  man  to  attend  him. 

Seb.     He's  well  enough,  he  has  a  travel'd  body, 
And  though  he  be  old,  he's  tough,  and  will  endure  well ; 
But  he  is  so  violent  to  finde  her  out, 
That  his  anger  leads  him  a  thousand  wild-goose  chases  : 
I'le  warrant  he  is  well. 

Cur.     Shall  we  part  company  ? 

Seb.     By  no  means,  no  :    that  were  a  sullen  business  : 
No  pleasure  in  our  journey  :    come,  let's  cross  here  first, 
And  where  we  find  the  paths,  let  them  direct  us.      [Exeunt. 


SCENE  II. 

Enter  Juletta,  Alinda. 

Jul.     Why  are  you  still  so  fearfull  of  me,  Lady  ? 
So  doubtfull  of  my  faith,  and  honest  service  ? 
To  hide  your  self  from  me,  to  fly  my  company  ? 
Am  I  not  yours  ?   all  yours  ?    by  this  light  you  shake  still  j 
Do  ye  suspedt  me  false  ?    did  I  ever  fail  ye  ? 
Do  you  think  I  am  corrupted  ?    base  ?   and  treacherous  ? 
Lord,  how  ye  look  !    Is  not  my  life  ty'd  to  ye  ? 
And  all  the  power  I  have  to  serve,  and  honour  ye  ? 
Still  do  ye  doubt  ?    still  am  I  terrible  ? 
I  will  not  trouble  ye  :    good  Heaven  preserve  ye, 
And  send  ye  what  ye  wish  :    I  will  not  see  ye, 
Nor  once  remember  I  had  such  a  Mistris. 
I  will  not  speak  of  ye,  nor  name  Alinda, 
For  fear  you  should  suspedl  I  would  betray  ye : 
Goodness  and  peace  condudt  ye. 

Aim.     Prethee  pardon  me, 

I  know  thou  art  truly  faithfull :    and  thou  art  welcom, 
A  welcom  partner  to  my  miseries ; 
Thou  knowst  I  love  thee  too. 
216 


Sc.  ii  THE   PILGRIM 

Jul.     I  have  thought  so,  Lady. 

Aim.     Alas,  my  fears  have  so  distracted  me 
I  durst  not  trust  my  self. 

Jul.     Come,  pray  ye  think  better, 
And  cast  those  by  :   at  least  consider,  Lady, 
How  to  prevent    em  :    pray  ye  put  off  this  fools  coat ; 
Though  it  have  kept  ye  secret  for  a  season, 
'Tis  known  now,  and  will  betray  ye  j    your  arch  enemy 
Roderigo  is  abroad  :    many  are  looking  for  ye. 

Aim.     I  know  it :   and  those  many  I  have  cozen'd. 

Jul.     You  cannot  still  do  thus. 

Aim.     I  have  no  means  to  shift  it. 

Jul.     I  have  :    and  shift  you  too.     I  lay  last  night 
At  a  poor  widows  house  here  in  the  Thicket, 
Whither  I  will  conduct  ye,  and  new  shape  ye, 
My  self  too  to  attend  ye. 

Aim.     What  means  hast  thou  ? 
For  mine  are  gone. 

Jul.     Fear  not,  enough  to  serve  ye  ; 
I  came  not  out  so  empty. 

Aim.     Prethee  tell  me, 

(For  thou  hast  struck  a  kind  of  comfort  through  me.) 
When  saw'st  thou  Roderigo  \ 

7ul.     Even  this  morning, 
in  these  woods  :    take  heed,  h'as  got  a  new  shape. 

Aim.     The  habit  of  a  Pilgrim  ?    yes,  I  know  it, 
And  I  hope  shall  prevent  it ;    was  he  alone  ? 

Jul.     No  Madam,  and  which  made  me  wonder  mightily, 
He  was  in  company  with  that  handsom  Pilgrim, 
That  sad  sweet  man. 

Aim.     That  I  forgot  to  give  to  ? 

Jul.     The  same,  the  very  same,  that  you  so  pitied, 
A  man  as  fit  to  suit  his  villanies. 

Aim.     And  did  they  walk  together  ? 

Jul.     Wondrous  civilly. 

Aim.     Talk,  and  discourse  ? 

Jul.     I  think  so,  for  I  saw  'em 
Make  many  stands,  and  then  embrace  each  other. 

Aim.     The  Pilgrim  is  betrai'd,  a  Judas  dwells  with  him, 
A  Sinori)  that  will  seem  a  Saint  to  choak  him. 

217 


THE   PILGRIM  ACT  v 

Canst  thou  but  shew  me  this  ? 

Jut.     Lord  how  she  trembles  ! 
Not  thus,  for  all  the  world,  ye  are  undone  then  ; 
But  let's  retire,  and  alter,  then  we'l  walk  free ; 
And  then  Tie  shew  ye  any  thing. 

Aim.     Come,  good  wench, 

And  speedily  :    for  I  have  strange  faiths  working, 
As  strange  fears  too,  Fie  tell  thee  all  my  life  then. 

7ul.     Come  quick,  Fie  conduct  ye,  and  still  serve  ye, 
do  not  fear  ;    hang  fear,  it  spoils  all  proje&s. 
This  way  ;    Fie  be  your  guide.  [Exeunt. 

SCENE   III. 

Enter  Governour,  Verdugo,  Citizens. 

Gov.     Use  all  your  sports, 

All  your  solemnities  ;    'tis  the  Kings  day  to  morrow, 
His  birth-day,  and  his  marriage,  a  glad  day, 
A  day  we  ought  to  honour,  all. 

1  Citi.     We  will  Sir, 

And  make  Segovia  ring  with  our  rejoycings. 

Gov.     Be  sumptuous,  but  not  riotous  ;    be  bounteous, 
But  not  in  drunken  Bacchanals :    free  to  all  strangers, 
Easie,  and  sweet  in  all  your  entertainments, 
For  'tis  a  Royal  day  admits  no  rudeness.  (your  self, 

2  Citi.    Your  Lordship  will  do  us  the  honour  to  be  here 
And  grace  the  day  ? 

Gov.     'Tis  a  main  part  of  my  service.  (ration 

3  Citi.     I  hope  your  honour  has  taken  into  your  conside- 
The  miseries  we  have  suffered  by  these  Out-laws, 

The  losses,  hourly  fears ;    the  rude  abuses 
Strangers  that  travel  to  us  are  daily  loaden  with, 
Our  Daughters,  and  our  wives  complaints. 

Gov.     I  am  sorry  for't, 

And  have  Commission  from  the  King  to  ease  it : 
You  shall  not  be  long  vext. 

I  Cit.     Had  we  not  walls,  Sir, 

And  those  continually  man'd  too  with  our  watches, 
We  should  not  have  a  bit  of  meat  to  feed  us. 
And  yet  they  are  our  friends,  and  we  must  think  so, 

218 


Sc.  in  THE   PILGRIM 

And  entertain  'em  so  sometimes,  and  feast  'em, 

And  send  'em  loaden  home  too,  we  are  lost  else.       (Christians, 

2  Cit.     They'l  come  to  Church  amongst  us,  as  we  hope 
When  all  their  zeal  is  but  to  steal  the  Chalices ; 
At  this  good  time  now,  if  your  Lordship  were  not  here, 
To  awe  their  violence  with  your  authority, 
They  would  play  such  gombals. 

Gov.     Are  they  grown  so  heady  ?  (Bonfires  ; 

2  Cit.    They  would  drink  up  all  our  Wine,  piss  out  our 
Then,  like  the  drunken  Centaures,  have  at  the  fairest, 
Nay,  have  at  all :    four-score  and  ten's  a  Goddess, 
Whilst  we,  like  fools,  stand  shaking  in  our  cellars. 

Gov.     Are  they  so  fierce  upon  so  little  sufferance  ? 
I'le  give  'em  such  a  purge,  and  suddenly. 
Verdugo^  after  this  solemnity  is  over, 
Call  on  me  for  a  charge  of  men,  of  good  men, 
To  see  what  house  these  knaves  keep  :    of  good  Souldiers, 
As  sturdy  as  themselves  :    that  dare  dispute  with  'em, 
Dare  walk  the  woods  as  well  as  they,  as  fearless, 
But  with  a  better  faith  belabour  'em  ; 
I'le  know  what  claim  they  have  to  their  possession. 
'Tis  pity  of  their  Captain  Roderigo, 
A  well-bred  Gentleman,  and  a  good  Souldier, 
And  one  his  Majesty  has  some  little  reason 
To  thank,  for  sundry  services,  and  fair  ones  ; 
That  long  neglect  bred  this,  I  am  sorry  for  him. 

Per.     The  hope  of  his  estate  keeps  back  his  pardon, 
There's  divers  wasps,  that  buz  about  that  hony-box, 
And  long  to  lick  themselves  full. 

Gov.     True  Verdugo^ 

Would  he  had  but  the  patience  to  discern  it, 
And  policy  to  wipe  their  lips. 

Verd.     To  fetch  him  in  Sir, 
By  violence,  he  being  now  no  infant, 
Will  ask  some  bloody  crowns.     I  know  his  people 
Are  of  his  own  choice,  men  that  will  not  totter, 
Nor  blench  much  at  a  Bullet ;    I  know  his  order, 
And  though  he  have  no  multitude,  h'as  manhood; 
The  elder-twin  to  that  too,  staid  experience. 
But  if  he  must  be  forced,  Sir, — 

219 


THE    PILGRIM  ACT  v 

Gov.     There's  no  remedy, 
Unless  he  come  himself. 

Per.     That  will  be  doubtfull. 
Did  you  never  hear  yet  of  the  noble  Pedro  ? 

Gov.     I  cannot  by  no  means  :    I  think  he's  dead  sure ; 
The  court  bewails  much  his  untimely  loss : 
The  King  himself  laments  him. 

Perd.     He  was  sunk  ; 
And  if  he  be  dead,  he  died  happily, 
He  buried  all  he  had  in  the  Kings  service, 
And  lost  himself. 

Gov.     Well :    if  he  be  alive,  Captain, 
(As  hope  still  speaks  the  best)  I  know  the  Kings  mind 
So  inwardly  and  full,  he  will  be  happy. 
Come,  to  this  preparation  ;    when  that's  done, 
The  Out-laws  expedition  is  begun. 

Git.     We'l  contribute  all  to  that,  and  help  our  selves  too. 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE   IV. 

Enter  Roderigo,  Pedro. 

Rod.     How  sweet  these  solitary  places  are  !  how  wantonly 
The  wind   blows  through  the  leaves,  and  courts,  and  playes 

(with  'em  ! 

Will  ye  sit  down,  and  sleep  ?   the  heat  invites  ye. 
Hark  how  yond  purling  stream  dances,  and  murmurs,  |J 
The  Birds  sing  softly  too  :   pray  take  some  rest,  Sir. 
I  would  fain  wooe  his  fancie  to  a  peace,, 
It  labours  high  and  hastily  upon  him  ; 
Pray  ye  sit,  and  I'le  sit  by. 

Ped.     I  cannot  sleep  friend, 
I  have  those  watches  here  admit  no  slumbers, 
Saw  ye  none  yet  ? 

Rod.     No  creature. 

Ped.     What  strange  Musick 
Was  that  we  heard  afar  off? 

Rod.     I  cannot  guess  ; 

'Twas  loud,  and  shrill :    sometimes  it  shew'd  hard  by  us, 
And  by  and  by  the  sound  fled  as  the  wind  does ; 
220 


Sc.  iv  THE    PILGRIM 

Here's  no  inhabitants. 

Fed.     It  much  delighted  me. 

Rod.     They  talk  of  Fairies,  and  such  demi-devils, 
This  is  a  fine  place  to  dance  their  gambols. — 

Ped.     Me  thought  I  heard  a  voyce.     fi~Musick  and  Birds. 

Rod.     They  can  sing  admirably, 

They  never  lose  their  maiden-heads :    I  would  fool  any  way 
To  make  him  merry  now  :    methink  yond  rocks  yonder 
Shew  like  inchanted  Cells,  where  they  inhabit. 

[Mustek  afar  off.     Pot  Birds. 

Ped.     'Tis  here  again,  hark  gentle  Roderigo, 
Hark,  hark :    O  sweet,  sweet,  how  the  Birds  record  too ! 
Mark  how  it  flies  now  every  way.     O  love, 
In  such  a  harmony  art  thou  begotten, 
In  such  soft  air,  so  gentle,  lull'd  and  nourished, 

0  my  best  Mistris  ! 

Rod.     How  he  weeps  !    dear  Heaven 
Give  him  his  hearts  content,  and  me  forgive  too. 

1  must  melt  too. 

Ped.     The  Birds  sing  louder,  sweeter, 
And  every  note  they  emulate  one  another. 
Lie  still  and  hear  :    These  when  they  have  done  their  labours, 

Enter  Alinda,  and  Juletta,  dike  old  Women. 

Their  pretty  airs,  fall  to  their  rests,  enjoy  'em. 
Nothing  rocks  Love  asleep,  but  death. 

Rod.     Who  are  these? 

Ped.     What. 

Rod.     Those  there,  those,  those  things  that  come  upon  us, 
Those  grandam  things,  those  strange  antiquities. 
Did  not  I  say  these  woods  begot  strange  wonders  ? 

Jul.     Now  ye  may  view  'em. 

Aim.     Ha? 

Jul.     The  men  ye  long'd  for, 

Here  they  are  both  :  now  ye  may  boldly  talk  with  'em, 
And  never  be  ghess'd  at :    be  not  afraid,  nor  faint  not ; 
They  wonder  at  us ;  let's  maintain  that  wonder  ; 
Shake  not,  but  what  ye  purpose  do  discreetly, 
And  from  your  tongue  Tie  take  my  part. 

Aim.     Ha? 

221 


THE    PILGRIM  ACT  v 

Jul.  There  :  before  ye,  there,  do  not  turn  coward  Mistress, 
If  ye  do  love,  carry  your  Love  out    handsomely. 

Aim.     'Tis  he  and  Roderigo  ;    what  a  peace 
Dwells  in  their  faces,  what  a  friendly  calm 
Crowns  both  their  souls  ! 

Rod.     They  show  as  if  they  were  mortal, 
They  come  upon  us  still. 

Fed.     Be  not  afraid,  Man, 
Let  'em  be  what  they  will,  they  cannot  hurt  us. 

Rod.     That  thing  i'th'  Button'd-cap  looks  terribly. 
She  has  Guns  in  her  eyes,  the  Devils  Ingeneer. 

Ped.     Come,  stand,  and  let's  go  meet  'em. 

Rod.     Go  you  first. 
I  have  less  faith  :    when  I  have  said  my  Prayers — 

Ped.     There  needs  no  fear,  hale  reverend  dames. 

Alln.     Good  even. 
What  do  ye  seek? 

Ped.     We  would  seek  happier  fortunes. 

Rod.     That  little  devil  has  main  need  of  a  Barber, 
What  a  trim  beard  she  has  ! 

Aim.     Seek  'em,  and  make  'em, 
Lie  not  still,  nor  longer  here, 
Here  inhabits  nought  but  fear, 
Be  constant  good,  in  faith  be  clear, 
Fortune  will  wait  ye  every  where. 

Ped.     Whither  should  we  go  ?  for  we  believe  thy  reverence, 
And  next  obey. 

Alin.     Go  to  Segovia, 

And  there  before  the  Altar  pay  thy  vowes, 
Thy  gifts,  and  prayers  :    unload  thy  heaviness, 
To  morrow  shed  thy  tears,  and  gain  thy  suit,  /  J 
Such  honest  noble  showrs,  ne're  wanted  fruit.  J 

jful.     Stand  you  out  too. 

Rod.     I  shall  be  hang'd,  or  whipt  now  : 
These  know,  and  these  have  power. 

Jul.     See  how  he  shakes. 
A  secure  conscience  never  quakes, 
Thou  hast  been  ill ;    be  so  no  more, 
A  good  retreat  is  a  great  store. 
Thou  hast  commanded  men  of  might, 
222 


Sc.  iv  THE   PILGRIM 

Command  thy  self,  and  then  thou  art  right. 

Aim.     Command  thy  will :    thy  foul  desires. 
Put  out  and  quench  thy  unhallowed  fires : 
Command  thy  mind,  and  make  that  pure  ; 
Thou  art  wise  then,  valiant,  and  secure. 
A  blessing  then  thou  maist  beget. 

t  Jul.     A  curse  else  that  shall  never  set 
Will  light  upon  thee :    Say  thy  Prayers, 
Thou  hast  as  many  sins,  as  hairs. 
Thou  art  a  Captain,  let  thy  men 
Be  honest,  and  good  thoughts,  and  then 
Thou  maist  command,  and  lead  in  chief, 
Yet  thou  art  bloody,  and  a  thief. 

Rod.     What  shall  I  do  ?    I  do  confess. 

Alin.     Retire, 

And  purge  thee  perfect  in  his  fire: 
His  life  observe  ;  live  in  his  School, 
And  then  thou  shalt  put  off  the  fool. 

JuL     Pray  at  Segovia  too,  and  give 
Thy   OfFrings  up,  repent,  and  live.  [Mustek  within. 

Alin.  Away,  away  :  enquire  no  more, 
Do  this,  ye  are  rich,  else  fools,  and  poor ; 
What  musick's  this  ? 

Jul.     Retire  ?    'tis  some  neat  Joy, 
In  honour  of  the  Kings  great  day  :    they  wonder, 
This  comes  in  right  to  confirm  their  reverence. 
Away,  away,  let  them  admire,  it  makes 
For  our  advantage  :    how  the  Captain  shakes  !  [Exit. 

Ped.     This  was  the  Musick. 

Rod.     Yes,  yes,  how  I  sweat  ! 
I  was  never  so  deserted  ;  sure  these  woods 
Are  only  inhabited  with  rare  dreams,  and  wonders  ; 
I  would  not  be  a  knave  again,  a  villain  : 
O  how  I  loath  it  now  :    for  these  know  all  Sir, 
And  they  would  find  me  out. 

Ped.     They  are  excellent  women, 
Deep  in  their  knowledge,  friend. 

Rod.     I  would  not  be  traytor, 
And  have  these  of  my  Jury ;   how  light  I  am, 
And  how  my  heart  laughs  now  me  thinks  within  me  ! 

223 


THE    PILGRIM  ACT  v 

Now  I  am  Catechiz'd,  I  would  ever  dwell  here, 
For  here  is  a  kind  of  Court  of  Reformation ; 
Had  I  been  stubborn  friend. 

Fed.     They  would  have  found  it. 

Rod.     And  then  they  would  have  handled  me  a  new  way, 
The  Devils  dump  had  been  danced  then. 

Ped.     Let's  away 

And  do  their  great  commands,  and  do  'em  handsomely : 
Contrite,  and  true,  for  I  believe  Roderigo, 
And  constantly  believe,  we  shall  be  happy. 

Rod.     So  you  do  well ;    fall  edge  or  flat  o'  my  side ; 
All  I  can  stagger  at  is  the  Kings  anger, 
Which  if  it  come,  I  am  prepar'd  to  meet  it. 

Ped.     The  King  has  mercy,  friend,  as  well  as  Justice  : 
And  when  you  fall  :    no  more — 

Rod.     I  hope  the  fairest.  [Exeunt. 

SCENE  V. 

Enter  Master^  Seberto,  Curio. 

(sought  him  : 

Cur.     We  have  told  ye  what  he  is  :  what  time  we  have 
His  nature,  and  his  name  :    the  seeming  Boy  too 
Ye  had  here,  how,  and  what  by  your  own  relation, 
All  circumstances  we  have  clear'd  :  That  the  Duke  sent  him 
We  told  ye  how  impossible  ;    he  knows  him  not ; 
That  he  is  mad  himself,  and  therefore  fit 
To  be  your  Prisoner,  we  dare  swear  against  it.  (him  ; 

Seb.     Take  heed  Sir,  be  not  madder  than  you  would  make 
Though  he  be  rash,  and  suddain  (which  is  all  his  wildness) 
Take  heed  ye  wrong  him  not :  he  is  a  Gentleman, 
And  so  must  be  restor'd  and  clear'd  in  all  points ; 
The  King  shall  be  a  Judge  else. 

Cur.     'Twas  some  trick 

That  brought  him  hither :  the  boy,  and  letter  conterfeit, 
Which  shall  appear,  if  ye  dare  now  detain  him. 

Mast.     I  dare  not  Sir  ;   nor  will  not :    I  believe  ye, 
And  will  restore  him  up  :  had  I  known  sooner 
H'ad  been  a  neighbour,  and  the  man  you  speak  him, 
(Though  as  I  live,  he  carried  a  wild  seeming) 

224 


Sc.  vi 


THE   PILGRIM 


My  Service,  and  my  self  had  both  attended  him. 
How  I  have  us'd  him,  let  him  speak. 

Seb.     Let's  in,  and  visit  him  : 
Then  to  the  holy  Temple  :    there  pay  our  duties, 
And  so  we'l  take  our  leaves. 

Mast.     Tie  wait  upon  you. 


[Exeunt. 


SCENE  VI. 


/-~"\ 


An  Jtltaf  prepaid. 


Solemn  Musick. 


Enter  Governour,  Verdugo,  Courtiers,  Ladies,  &c. 

Gov.      This  to  devotion  sacred  be, 
This  to  the  Kings  prosperity, 
This  to  the  Queen,  and  Chastity.  (Musick. 

Ver.  These  Oblations  first  we  bring 
To  purge  our  selves  :  These  to  the  King. 
To  love,  and  beautie  these:  now  sing.  (Musick. 

Ladies.     Holy  Altar,  daign  to  take 
These  for  our  selves  :    For  the  Kings  sake 
And  honour  these  :    These  sacred  lye 
To  Venue,  Love,  and  Modesty, 
Our  wishes  to  Eternity.  (Musick. 

Enter  Pedro,  and  Roderigo. 

Ped.     For  our  selves  first,  thus  we  bend, 
Forgive  us  heaven,  and  be  our  friend. 

Rod.     And  happy  fortune  to  us  send. 

Ped.     To  the  King,  honour,  and  all  Joy, 
Long,  and  happy  from  annoy. 

Rod.     Prosperous  be  all  his  dayes 
Every  new  hour,  a  new  praise. 

Ped.     Every  minute  thus  be  seen, 

Both.     And  thousand  honours  Crown  the  Queen.  (Musick. 

Enter  Alphonso,  Curio,  Seberto. 

Seb.     Come  to  the  Altar :    let  us  do  our  duties. 
Alph.     I  have  almost  forgot  a  Church. 
Cur.     Kneel  reverently. 

B.-F.  v.  P  225 


THE   PILGRIM  ACT  v 

Alph.     For  my  lost  wits  (let  me  see) 
First  I  pray  :   and  secondly 
To  be  at  home  again,  and  free, 
And  if  I  travel  more,  hang  me. 
For  the  King,  and  for  the   Queen, 
That  they  may  be  wise,  and  seen 
Never  in  the  Mad-mans  Inne. 
For  my  Daughter,  I  would  pray 
But  she  has  made  a  holy-day, 
And  needs  not  my  devotion  now 
Let  her  take  her  own  course,  Heaven, 
Whether  it  be  odd,  or  even,  (Musick. 

Enter  Alinda,  and  Juletta,  like  Shepheards. 

And  if  that  please  not,  take  her  you. 

Seb.     A  short,  and  sweet  Meditation  :  what  are  these  here  ? 

Alin.     Hale  to  this  sacred  place. 

Jul.     They  are  all  here,  Madam : 
No  violence  dare  touch  here ;    be  secure  : 
My  Bilbo  Master  too :    how  got  he  loose  again  ? 
How  lamentably  he  looks  !    he  has  had  discipline. 
I  dare  not  let  him  know  my  pranks. 

Seb.     'Tis  she  sure. 

Cur.     'Tis  certainly. 

Ped.     Ha  !    do  I  dazel  ? 

Rod.     'Tis  the  fair  Alinda. 

Gov.     What  wonder  stand  these  strangers  in  ? 

Rod.     Her  woman  by  her. 
The  same  Sir,  as  I  live. 

Alph.     I  had  a  Daughter, 

With  such  a  face  once  :   such  eyes  and  nose  too, 
Ha,  let  me  see,  'tis  wondrous  like  Alinda, 
Their  devotion  ended,  Fie  mark  'em  and  nearer. 
And  she  had  a  Filly  that  waited  on  her, 
Just  with  such  a  favour: 
Do  they  keep  Goats  now  ? 

Alin.      Thus  we  kneel,  and  thus  we  pray 
A  happy  honour  to  this  day, 
Thus  our  Sacrifice  we  bring 
Ever  happy  to  the  King. 

226 


Sc.  vi  THE   PILGRIM 

Jul.     These  of  Purple,  Damask  green 
Sacred  to  the  vertuous  Queen 
Here  we  hang. 

Alin.     As  these  are  now 
Her  glories  ever  spring,  and  show. 
These  for  our  selves  :   our  hopes,  and  loves, 
Full  of  pinks,  and  Ladies  gloves, 
Of  hearts-ease  too,  which  we  would  fain 
As  we  labour  for,  attain  ; 
Hear  me  Heaven,  and  as  I  bend, 
Full  of  hope,  some  comfort  send. 

Jul.     Hear  her :    hear  her  :   if  there  be          (Musick. 
A  spotless  Sweetness,  this  is  she. 
Ped.     Now  Roderigo  stand. 
Rod.     He  that  divides  ye 
Divides  my  life  too. 

Gov.     Pedro,  Noble  Pedro, 
Do  not  you  know  your  friend  ? 
Ped.     I  know,  and  honour  ye. 

Gov.     Lady  this  leave  Pie  crave,  pray  be  not  angry, 
I  will  not  long  divide  you  :    how  happy,   Pedro, 
Would  all  the  court  be  now,  might  they  behold  thee  ? 
Might  they  but  see  you  thus,  and  thus  embrace  you  ? 
The  King  will  be  a  joyfull  man  believe  it, 
Most  joyfull,  Pedro. 

Ped.     I  am  his  humble  Servant. 

Nay,  good  Sir,  speak  your  will,  I  see  you  wonder,  one  easie 
word  from  you — 

Alph.     I  dare  say  nothing; 

My  tongue's  a  new  tongue  Sir,  and  knows  his  tither, 
Let  her  do  what  she  please,  I  dare  do  nothing, 
I  have  been  damn'd  for  doing,  will  the  King  know  him  ? 
That  fellow  there,  will  he  respect  and  honour  him  ? 
He  has  been  look'd  upon  they  say  :    will  he  own  him  ? 

Gov.     Yes  certainly  and  grace  him,  ever  honour  him, 
Restore  him  every  way,  he  has  much  lamented  him. 

Alp.     Is't  your  will  too  ?   this  is  the  last  time  of  asking. 

Rod.     I  am  sure,  none  else  shall  touch  her,  none  else  en- 

If  this,  and  this  hold.  (joy  her. 

Al.  You  had  best  begin  the  game  then,  I  have  no  title  in  her, 

P2  227 


THE   PILGRIM  ACT  v 

Pray  take  her,  and  dispatch  her,  and  commend  me  to  her, 

And  let  me  get  me  home,  and  hope  I  am  sober  : 

Kiss,  kiss,  it  must  be  thus :    stand  up  Alinda, 

I  am  the  more  child,  and  more  need  of  blessing. 

Ye  had  a  waiting  woman,  one  Julettay 

A  pretty  desperate  thing,  just  such  another 

As  this  sweet  Lady  ;    we  call'd  her  nimble  chaps. 

I  pray  is  this  the  party  ? 

Jul.     No  indeed  Sir, 
She  is  at  home  ;    I  am  a  little  Foot-Boy, 
That  walk  a  nights,  and  fright  old  Gentlemen ; 
Make  'em  lose  Hats  and  Cloaks. 

Alph.     And  Horses  too.  (ditches; 

7ul.     Sometimes   I    do   Sir,  teach   'em  the   way   through 
how  to  break  their  worships  shins,  and  noses 
Against  old  broken  Stiles,  and  Stumps. 

Alph.     A  fine  art. 
I  feel  it  in  my  bones  yet. 

Jul.     I  am  a  Drum  Sir, 

A  Drum  at  mid-night,  ran  tan  tan  tan  tan  Sir, 
Do  you  take  me  for  Juletta  ?     I  am  a  Page  Sir, 
That  brought  a  letter  from  the  Duke  of  Medina 
To  have  one  senior  Alphonso,  just  such  another 
As  your  old  worship,  worm'd  for  running  mad  Sir. 
Alas,  you  are  mistaken. 

Alph.     Thou  art  the  Devil, 
And  so  thou  hast  used  me. 

Jul.     I  am  any  thing, 
An  old  woman,  that  tells  fortunes. 

Rod.     Ha. 

Jul.     And  frights  good  people, 
And  sends  them  to  Segovia  for  their  fortunes : 
I  am  strange  airs,  and  excellent  sweet  voyces. 
I  am  any  thing,  to  do  her  good,  believe  me; 
She  now  recovered,  and  her  wishes  crown'd 
I  am  Juletta  again,  pray  Sir  forgive  me,         (still  follow  me, 

Alph.     I  dare   not   do   otherwise,  for   fear   thou  should'st 
Prethee  be  forgiven,  and  I  prethee  forgive  me  too : 
And  if  any  of  you  will  marry  her. 

JuL     No  I  beseech  you  Sir  ; 

228 


Sc.  vi  THE   PILGRIM 

My  Mistress  is  my  husband,  with  her  Fie  dwell  still, 

And  when  you   play  any  more  pranks  you  know  where  to 

Ped.     You  know  him  Sir.  (have  me. 

Gov.     Know  him,  and  much  lament  him  : 
The  King's  incens'd  much,  much  Sir,  I  can  assure  you. 

Ped.     Noble  Governour. 

Gov.     But  since  he  is  your  friend,  and  now  appears, 
In  honour  of  this  day  and  love  to  you  Sir : 
I'le  try  the  power  I  have,  to  the  pinch  Tie  put  it ; 
Here's  my  hand  Roderigo,  I'le  set  you  fair  again. 

Rod.     And  here's  mine,  to   be  true,  and  full  of  service. 

Gov.     Your  people  too,  shall  have  their  general  pardons, 
We'l  have  all  peace  and  love. 

Rod.     All  shall  pray  for  you. 

Gov.     To  my  house  now,  and  suite  you  to  your  worths ; 
Off  with  these  weeds,  and  appear  glorious  : 
Then  to  the  Priest,  that  shall  attend  us  here, 
And  this  be  stil'd  Loves  new  and  happy  year. 

Rod.     The  Kings  and  Queens,  two  noble  honours  meet, 
To  grace  this  day,  two  true  loves  at  their  feet. 

Alph.     Well  well,  since  wedding  will  come  after  wooing, 
Give  me  some  Rose-Mary,  and  let's  be  going.  [Exeunt. 


229 


THE 

CAPTAIN. 

A 

COMEDY. 


Persons  Represented  in  the  Play. 


Julio,  a  noble  Gentleman,  in  Love 

with  Lelia. 
Angelo,    a    Gentleman,    friend    to 


Pi'  t<wo  Cowardly  Gulls. 

Frederick,  a  Gentleman,  Brother  to 

Frank. 
Jacomo,  an  angry  Captain,  a  Woman- 

hater. 
Fabritio,  a  merry  Souldier,  friend  to 

Jacomo. 
Lelia'j  Father,  an  old  poor  Gentle 

man. 


Host. 
Vintner. 
Drawers. 
Servants. 


WOMEN. 


Frank,  Sister  to  Frederick,  a  Lady 
passionately  in  love  with  Jacomo. 

Cl[o]ra,  Sister  to  Fabritio,  a  witty 
companion  to  Frank. 

Lelia,  a  cunning  wanton  Widow. 

Waiting-woman. 

Maid  Servants. 


The  Scene  Venice,  Spain. 


The  principal  Actors  were, 


Richard  Eurbadge.  \  ( 
Henry  Condel.         }  \ 


William  Ostler. 
Alexander  Cooke. 


230 


ACT  i  THE   CAPTAIN 

Attus  Primus.     Scena  Prima. 

Enter  Lodovico,  and  Piso. 

Lodovico. 

THE  truth  is,  Piso,  so  she  be  a  woman 
And  rich  and  wholsome,  let  her  be  of  what 
Condition  and  Complexion  it  please, 
She  shall  please  me  I  am  sure  ;    Those  men  are  fools 
That  make  their  eyes  their  choosers,  not  their  needs. 

Piso.    Me  thinks  I  would  have  her  honest  too,  and  handsom. 

Lod.     Yes  if  I  could  have  both,  but  since  they  are 
Wishes  so  near  impossibilities, 
Let  me  have  that  that  may  be. 

Piso.     If  it  were  so, 

I  hope  your  conscience  would  not  be  so  nice 
To  start  at  such  a  blessing. 

Lod.     No  believe  me, 
I  do  not  think  I  should. 

Piso.     But  thou  would'st  be 
I  do  not  doubt  upon  the  least  suspicion 
Unmercifully  jealous. 

Lod.     No  I  should  not, 

For  I  believe  those  mad  that  seek  vexations. 
A  Wife,  though  she  be  honest,  is  a  trouble, 
Had  I  a  Wife  as  fair  as  Hellen  was 
That  drew  so  many  Cuckolds  to  her  cause, 
These  eyes  should  see  another  in  my  Saddle 
Ere  I  believe  my  beast  would  carry  double. 

Piso.     So  should  not  I  by'our  Lady,  and  I  think 
My  patience  (by  your  leave)  as  good  as  yours, 
Report  would  stir  me  mainly,  I  am  sure  on't. 

Lod.     Report  ?     You  are  unwise  ;   report  is  nothing  ; 
For  if  there  were  a  truth  in  what  men  talk, 
I  mean  of  this  kind,  this  part  of  the  world 
I  am  sure  would  be  no  more  call'd  Christendom. 

Piso.     What  then  ? 

Lod.     Why  Cuckoldom^  for  we  should  lose 
Our  old  faiths  clean,  and  hold  their  new  opinions  : 
If  talk  could  make  me  sweat,  before  I  would  marry 

231 


THE  CAPTAIN  ACT  i 

I'd  tie  a  surer  knot,  and  hang  my  self; 

I  tell  thee  there  was  never  woman  yet, 

(Nor  never  hope  there  shall  be)  though  a  Saint, 

But  she  has  been  a  subject  to  mens  tongues, 

And  in  the  worse  sense  :    and  that  desperate  Husband, 

That  dares  give  up  his  peace,  and  follow  humours 

(Which  he  shall  find  too  busie,  if  he  seek  'em) 

Besides  the  forcing  of  himself  an  Ass 

He  dyes  in  chains,  eating  himself  with  anger. 

Piso.     Having  these  Antidotes  against  opinion 
I  would  marry  any  one  ;    an  arrant  Whore. 

Lod.     Thou  dost  not  feel  the  nature  of  this  Physick 
Which  I  prescribe  not  to  beget  diseases, 
But  where  they  are,  to  stop  them. 

Piso.     I  conceive  ye  : 
What  thinkest  thou,  thy  way,  of  the  widow  Leila  ? 

Lod.     Faith  thou  hast  found  out  one  I  must  confess 
Would  stagger  my  best  patience  :    From  that  woman 
As  I  would  bless  my  self  from  plagues  and  surfeits, 
From  Men  of  war  at  Sea,  from  storms,  and  quicksands, 
From  hearing  Treason  and  concealing  it, 
From  daring  of  a  Madman,  or  a  Drunkard, 
From  Heresie,  ill  Wine,  and  stumbling  post  Horse  ; 
So  would  I  pray  each  morning,  and  each  night 
(And  if  I  said  each  hour,  I  should  not  lye) 
To  be  delivered  of  all  these  in  one, 
The  woman  thou  hast  named. 

Enter  Julio,  Angelo,  and  Father. 

Piso.     Thou  hast  set  her  in  a  pretty  Litany. 

Ang.     Pray  take  my  counsel. 

Jul.     When  I  am  my  self 
I'le  hear  you  any  way  ;    love  me  though  thus 
As  thou  art  honest,  which  I  dare  not  be 
Lest  I  despise  my  self.     Farewel.  [Exit  Julio. 

Piso.     Do  you  hear  my  friend  :   Sir,  are  you  not  a  setter, 
For  the  fair  widow  here  of  famous  memory  ? 

Fa.     Ha  ?   am  I  taken  for  a  Bawd  ?     Oh  Heaven  ! 
To  mine  own  child  too  ?   misery,  I  thank  thee 
That  keepst  me  from  their  knowledge  :    Sir,  believe  me 
232 


Sc.  i  THE    CAPTAIN 

I  understand  ye  not. 

Lod.     You  love  plain  dealing. 

Are  you  not  parcel  Bawd  ?   confess  your  Function, 
It  may  be  we  would  use  it. 

Fa.     Were  she  worse, 
As  I  fear  strangely  she  is  ill  enough, 
I  would  not  hear  this  tamely. 

Piso.     Here's  a  shilling 
To  strike  good  luck  withal. 

Fa.     Here's  a  Sword,  Sir, 

To  strike  a  Knave  withal,  thou  lyest,  and  basely, 
Be  what  thou  wilt. 

Ang.     Why  how  now  Gentlemen  ? 

Fa.  You  are  many  :  I  shall  meet  you,  Sir,  again, 
And  make  you  understand,  y'have  wrong'd  a  Woman 
Compar'd  with  whom  thy  Mother  was  a  sinner.  Farewel. 

Piso.     He  has  amazed  me.  [Exit  Father. 

Ang.     With  a  blow  ? 

By'r  Lady  'twas  a  sound  one ;    are  ye  good 
At  taking  knocks  ?    I  shall  know  you  hereafter  : 
You  were  to  blame  to  tempt  a  man  so  far 
Before  you  knew  him  certain  :    h'as  not  hurt  ye  ? 

Piso.     No  I  think. 

Lod.     We  were  to  blame  indeed  to  go  so  far, 
For  men  may  be  mistaken  :    if  he  had  swinged  us 
H'had  serv'd  us  right :    Beshrew  my  heart,  I  think, 
We  have  done  the  Gentlewoman  as  much  wrong  too, 
For  hang  me  if  I  know  her 
In  my  particular. 

Piso.     Nor  I ;  this  'tis  to  credit 
Mens  idle  tongues ;    I  warrant  they  have  said 
As  much  by  our  two  Mothers. 

Lod.     Like  enough. 

Ang.     I  see  a  beating  now  and  then  does  more 
Move  and  stir  up  a  mans  contrition 
Than  a  sharp  Sermon,  here  probatum  est. 

Enter  Frederick,  and  Servant. 

Ser.     What  shall  I  tell  your  Sister? 
Fred.     Tell  her  this, 

233 


THE   CAPTAIN  ACT  i 

Till  she  be  better  conversation'd 

And  leave  her  walking  by  her  self,  and  whining 

To  her  old  melancholy  Lute,  I'le  keep 

As  far  from  her  as  the  Gallows.  [Exit  Servant. 

Ang.     Who's  that,  Frederick* 

Fred.     Yes  marry  is't.     O  Angela  how  dost  thou  ? 

Ang.     Save  you  Sir,  how  does  my  Mistris  ? 

Fred.     She  is  in  love  I  think,  but  not  with  you 
I  can  assure  you :    saw  ye  Fabritio  ? 

Ang.     Is  he  come  over  ? 

Fred.     Yes  a  week  ago  :    Shall  we  dine  ? 

Ang.     I  cannot. 

Fred.     Prethee  do. 

Ang.     Believe  me  I  have  business. 

Fred.     Have  you  too,  Gentlemen  ? 

Pisa.     No  Sir. 

Fred.     Why  then  let's  dine  together. 

Lod.     With  all  my  heart. 

Fred.     Go  then  :    Farewel  good  Angela, 
Commend  me  to  your  friend. 

Ang.     I  will.    '  [Exeunt. 

SCENE   II. 

Enter  Frank,  and  Clora. 

Clo.     Do  not  dissemble  Frank,  mine  eyes  are  quicker 
Than  such  observers,  that  do  ground  their  faith 
Upon  one  smile  or  tear  ;   y'are  much  alter'd, 
And  are  as  empty  of  those  excellencies 
That  were  companions  to  you  ;    I  mean  mirth 
And  free  disposure  of  your  blood  and  Spirit, 
As  you  were  born  a  mourner. 

Fran.     How  I  prethee  ? 
For  I  perceive  no  such  change  in  my  self. 

Clo.     Come,  come,  this  is  not  wise,  nor  provident 
To  halt  before  a  Cripple :    if  you  love, 
Be  liberal  to  your  friend,  and  let   her  know  it, 
I  see  the  way  you  run,  and  know  how  tedious 
'Twill  prove  without  a  true  companion. 

Fran.     Sure  thou  wouldst  have  me  love. 
234 


Sc.  ii  THE   CAPTAIN 

Clo.     Yes  marry  would  I, 
I  should  not  please  ye  else. 

Fran.     And  who  for  Heavens  sake  ? 
For  I  assure  my  self,  I  know  not  yet : 
And  prethee  Clora,  since  thou'lt  have  it  so 
That  I  must  love,  and  do  I  know  not  what : 
Let  him  be  held  a  pretty  handsome  fellow, 
And  young,  and  if  he  be  a  little  valiant 
'Twill  be  the  better ;    and  a  little  wise, 
And  faith  a  little  honest. 

Clor.     Well  I  will  sound  ye  yet  for  all  your  craft. 

Fran.     Heigh  ho  !    Fie  love  no  more. 

Clo.     Than  one  ;   and  him 
You  shall  love  Frank. 

Fran.     Which  him  ?    thou  art  so  wise 
People  will  take  thee  shortly  for  a  Witch  : 
But  prethee  tell  me  Clora,  if  I  were 
So  mad  as  thou  wouldst  make  me,  what  kind  of  man 
Wouldst  thou  imagine  him  ? 

Clo.     Faith  some  pretty  fellow, 
With  a  clean  strength,  that  cracks  a  cudgel  well 
And  dances  at"  a  Wake,  and  plays  at  Nine-holes. 

Fran.    O  what  pretty  commendations  thou  hast  given  him  ! 
Faith  if  I  were  in  love  as  I  thank  Heaven 
I  do  not  think  I  am  ;    this  short  Epistle 
Before  my  love  would  make  me  burn  the  Legend. 

Clor.     You  are  too  wild,  I  mean  some  Gentleman. 

Fran.     So  do  not  I,  till  I  can  know  'em  wiser  : 
Some  Gentleman  ?   no  Clora,  till  some  Gentleman 
Keep  some  land,  and  fewer  whores,  believe  me 
Fie  keep  no  love  for  him,  I  do  not  long 
To  go  a  foot  yet,  and  solicite  causes. 

Clor.     What  think  you  then  of  an  adventurer  ? 
I  mean  some  wealthy  Merchant. 

Fran.     Let  him  venture 

In  some  decai'd  Ware,  or  Carack  of  his  own  :    he  shall  not 
Rig  me  out,  that's  the  short  on't ;   out  upon't : 
What  young  thing  of  my  years  would  endure 
To  have  her  Husband  in  another  Country 
Within  a  month  after  she  is  married 

235 


THE   CAPTAIN  ACT  i 

Chopping  for  rotten  Raisins,  and  lye  pining 
At  home  under  the  mercy  of  his  fore-man  ?   no, 
Though  they  be  wealthy,  and  indifferent  wise 
I  do  not  see  that  I  am  bound  to  love  'em. 

Clo.     I  see  ye  are  hard  to  please  ;    yet  I  will  please  ye. 

Fran.     Faith  not  so  hard  neither,  if  considered 
What  woman  may  deserve  as  she  is  worthy  : 
But  why  do  we  bestow  our  time  so  idlely  ? 
Prethee  let  us  entertain  some  other  talk, 
This  is  as  sickly  to  me  as  faint  weather. 

dor.     Now  I  believe  I  shall  content  you  Frank, 
What  think  you  of  a  Courtier  ? 

Fran.     Faith  so  ill, 

That  if  I  should  be  full,  and  speak  but  truth, 
'Twould  shew  as  if  I  wanted  charity, 
Prethee  good  wench  let  me  not  rail  upon  'em, 
Yet  I  have  an  excellent  stomach,  and  must  do  it ; 
I  have  no  mercy  of  these  Infidels 
Since  I  am  put  in  mind  on't,  good  wench  bear  with  me. 

Clo.     Can  no  man  fit  you  ?     I  will  find  him  out. 

Fran.     This  Summer  fruit,  that  you  call  Courtier, 
While  you  continue  cold  and  frosty  to  him 
Hangs  fast,  and  may  be  found :    but  when  you  fling 
Too  full  a  heat  of  your  affections 
Upon  his  root,  and  make  him  ripe  too  soon, 
You'll  find  him  rotten  i'th'  handling  ; 
His  oaths  and  affections  are  all  one 
With  his  apparel,  things  to  set  him  off, 
He  has  as  many  Mistrisses  as  Faiths, 
And  all  Apocrypha  ;    his  true  belief 
Is  only  in  a  private  Surgion, 
And  for  my  single  self,  I'd  sooner  venture 
A  new  conversion  of  the  Indies, 
Than  to  make  Courtiers  able  men,  or  honest. 

Clo.     I  do  believe  you  love  no  Courtier, 
And  by  my  troth  to  ghess  you  into  love 
With  any  I  can  think  of,  is  beyond 
Either  your  will,  or  my  imagination. 
And  yet  I  am  sure  y'are  caught :    and  I  will  know  him. 
There's  none  left  now  worthy  the  thinking  of, 


Sc.  ii  THE   CAPTAIN 

Unless  it  be  a  Souldier,  and  I  am  sure, 

I  would  ever  bless  my  self  from  such  a  fellow. 

Fran.     Why  prethee  ? 

Clo.     Out  upon  'em  fire-locks, 
They  are  nothing  i'th'  world  but  Buff  and  Scarlet, 
Tough  unhewn  pieces,  to  hack  swords  upon  ; 
I  had  as  lieve  be  courted  by  a  Cannon, 
As  one  of  those. 

Fran.     Thou  art  too  malicious, 
Upon  my  faith  me  thinks  they're  worthy  men. 

Clo.     Say  ye  so  ?     I'le  pull  ye  on  a  little  further. 
What  worth  can  be  in  those  men,  whose  profession 
Is  nothing  i'th'  world  but  drink  and  damn  me, 
Out  of  whose  violence  they  are  possest 
With  legions  of  unwholsome  whores  and  quarrels  ; 
I  am  of  that  opinion,  and  will  dye  in't, 
There  is  no  understanding,  nor  can  be 
In  a  soust  Souldier. 

Fran.     Now  'tis  ignorance 
I  easily  perceive  that  thus  provokes  thee, 
And  not  the  love  of  truth  ;    I'le  lay  my  life 
If  thou'dst  been  made  a  man,  thou  hadst  been  a  coward. 

Clo.    If  to  be  valiant,  be  to  be  a  Souldier  ;  I'le  tell  ye  true, 
I  had  rather  be  a  Coward,  I  am  sure  with  less  sin. 

Fra.    This  Heresie  must  be  look'd  to  in  time  :  for  if  it  spread 
'Twill  grow  too  Pestilent ;    were  I  a  Scholar 
I  would  so  hamper  thee  for  thy  opinion, 
That  ere  I  left,  I  would  write  thee  out  of  credit 
With  all  the  world,  and  make  thee  not  believ'd 
Even  in  indifferent  things;    that  I  would  leave  thee 
A  reprobate  out  of  the  state  of  honour. 
By  all  good  things,  thou  hast  flung  aspersions 
So  like  a  fool  (for  I  am  angry  with  thee) 
Upon  a  sort  of  men,  that  let  me  tell  thee 
Thy  mothers  mother  would  have  been  a  Saint 
Had  she  conceiv'd  a  Souldier  ;    they  are  people 
(I  may  commend  'em,  while  I  speak  but  truth) 
Of  all  the  old  world,  only  left  to  keep 
Man  as  he  was,  valiant  and  vertuous. 
They  are  the  model  of  those  men,  whose  honours 

237 


THE   CAPTAIN  ACT  i 

We  heave  our  hands  at  when  we  hear  recited. 

Clo.     They  are,  and  I  have  all  I  sought  for,  'tis  a  souldier 
You  love,  hide  it  no  longer  ;    you  have  betray'd  your  self ; 
Come,  I  have  found  your  way  of  commendations, 
And  what  I  said,  was  but  to  pull  it  from  ye. 

Fran.     'Twas  pretty,  are  you  grown  so  cunning,  Clora  ? 
I  grant  I  love  a  souldier  ;    But  what  souldier 
Will  be  a  new  task  to  ye  ?     But  all  this 
I  do  imagine  was  but  laid  to  draw  me 
Out  of  my  melancholy. 

Clo.     I  will  have  the  man 
Ere  I  forsake  ye. 

Fran.     I  must  to  my  Chamber. 

Clo.     May  not  I  go  along  ? 

Fran.     Yes,  but  good  wench 
Move  me  no  more  with  these  fond  questions, 
They  work  like  Rhubarb  with  me. 

Clo.     Well,  I  will  not.  [Exeunt. 

SCENE  III. 

Enter  Lelia  and  her  Waiting-woman. 

Lei.     How  now  ?  who  was  that  you  staid  to  speak  withal. 

Worn.     The  old  man  forsooth. 

Lei.     What  old  man  ?  (you  call  Father. 

Worn.    The  poor  old  man  that  uses  to  come  hither,  he  that 

Lei.     Have  you  dispatched  him  ? 

Worn.     No  ;    he  would  fain  speak  with  you. 

Lei.     Wilt  thou  never  learn  more  manners, 
Than  to  draw  in  such  needy  Rascals  to  disquiet  me  ? 
Go,  answer  him  I  will  not  be  at  leasure.  (weeps  so, 

Worn.    He  will  needs  speak  with  you ;  and  good  old  man  he 
That  by  my  troth  I  have  not  the  heart  to  deny  him, 
Pray  let  him  speak  with  you. 

Lei.    Lord  how  tender  stomachM  you  are  grown  of  late! 
You  are  not  in  love  with  him,  are  ye  ? 
If  ye  be,  strike  up  the  match  ;   you  shall  have 
Three  1.  and  a  pair  of  blankets  !    will  ye  go  answer  him  ? 

Worn.    Pray  let  him  speak  with  you,  he  will  not  away  else. 

238 


Sc.  m  THE   CAPTAIN 

Lei.    Well,  let  him  in  then  if  there  be  no  remedy ;  I  thank 

(Heaven  I  am 
Able  to  abuse  him,  I  shall  ne'r  come  clear  else  of  him. 

Enter  Father. 

Now  Sir,  what  is  your  business?  pray  be  short;  for  I  have  other 
Matters  of  more  moment  to  call  me  from  ye. 

Fa.     If  you  but  look  upon  me  like  a  Daughter 
And  keep  that  love  about  ye  that  makes  good 
A  Fathers  hope,  you'l  quickly  find  my  business, 
And  what  I  would  say  to  you,  and  before 
I  ask,  will  be  a  giver  :    say  that  sleep, 
I  mean  that  love,  or  be  but  num'd  within  ye, 
The  nature  of  my  want  is  such  a  searcher, 
And  of  so  mighty  power,  that  where  he  finds 
This  dead  forgetfulness,  it  works  so  strongly, 
That  if  the  least  heat  of  a  childs  affection 
Remain  unperish'd,  like  another  nature, 
It  makes  all  new  again  ;    pray  do  not  scorn  me, 
Nor  seem  to  make  your  self  a  greater  business 
Than  my  relieving. 

Lei.     If  you  were  not  old 

I  should  laugh  at  ye  ;    what  a  vengeance  ails  ye 
To  be  so  childish  to  imagine  me 
A  founder  of  old  fellows  ?   make  him  drink,  wench, 
And  if  there  be  any  cold  meat  in  the  Buttery, 
Give  him  some  broken  bread,  and  that,  and  rid  him. 

Fa.     Is  this  a  childs  love  ?    or  a  recompence 
Fit  for  a  Fathers  care  ?     O  Leliay 
Had  I  been  thus  unkind,  thou  hadst  not  been ; 
Or  like  me  miserable  :  But  'tis  impossible 
Nature  should  dye  so  utterly  within  thee, 
And  lose  her  promises ;    thou  art  one  of  those 
She  set  her  stamp  more  excellently  on, 
Than  common  people,  as  fore-telling  thee, 
A  general  example  of  her  goodness  j 
Or  say  she  could  lye,  yet  Religion 
(For  love  to  Parents  is  Religious) 
Would  lead  thee  right  again :    Look  well  upon  me, 
I  am  the  root  that  gave  thee  nourishment, 

239 


THE   CAPTAIN  ACT  i 

And  made  thee  spring  fair,  do  not  let  me  perish 
Now  I  am  old  and  sapless. 

Leila.     As  I  live 

I  like  ye  far  worse  now  ye  grow  thus  holy, 
I  grant  you  are  my  Father  ;   am  I  therefore 
Bound  to  consume  my  self,  and  be  a  Beggar 
Still  in  relieving  you  ?     I  do  not  feel 
Any  such  mad  compassion  yet  within  me. 

Fa.     I  gave  up  all  my  state  to  make  yours  thus. 

Lei.     'Twas  as  ye  ought  to  do,  and  now  ye  cry  for't 
As  children  do  for  babies  back  again. 

Path.     How  wouldst  thou  have  me  live  ? 

Lei.     I  would  not  have  ye, 
Nor  know  no  reason  Fathers  should  desire 
To  live,  and  be  a  trouble,  when  children 
Are  able  to  inherit,  let  them  dye, 
'Tis  fit,  and  lookt  for,  that  they  should  do  so. 

Fa.     Is  this  your  comfort  ? 

Lei.     All  that  I  feel  yet. 

Fa.     I  will  not  curse  thee. 

Lei.     If  you  do  I  care  not. 

Fa.     Pray  you  give  me  leave  to  weep. 

Lei.     Why  pray  take  leave, 
If  it  be  for  your  ease. 

Fa.     Thy  Mother  dyed, 
Sweet  peace  be  with  her,  in  a  happy  time. 

Lei.     She  did,  Sir,  as  she  ought  to  do,  would  you 
Would  take  the  pains  to  follow  ;    what  should  you, 
Or  any  old  man  do  wearing  away 
In  this  world  with  Diseases,  and  desire 
Only  to  live  to  make  their  Children  scourge-sticks, 
And  hoard  up  mill-mony  ?    me  thinks  a  Marble 
Lyes  quieter  upon  an  old  mans  head 
Than  a  cold  fit  o'th'  Palsey. 

Fa.     O  good  Heaven  ! 

To  what  an  impudence  thou  wretched  woman, 
Hast  thou  begot  thy  self  again  !    well,  justice 
Will  punish  disobedience. 

Lei.     You  mistake,  Sir  ; 
'Twill  punish  Beggars,  fye  for  shame  go  work, 

240 


Sc.  in  THE    CAPTAIN 

Or  serve,  you  are  grave  enough  to  be  a  Porter 
In  some  good  man  of  worships  house,  and  give 
Sententious  answers  to  the  comers  in. 
A  pretty  place ;    or  be  of  some  good  Consort, 
You  had  a  pleasant  touch  o'th'  Cittern  once, 
If  idleness  have  not  bereft  you  of  it : 
Be  any  thing  but  old  and  Beggarly, 
Two  sins  that  ever  do  outgrow  compassion  ; 
If  I  might  see  you  offer  at  a  course 
That  were  a  likely  one,  and  shewM  some  profit, 
I  would  not  stick  for  ten  Groats,  or  a  Noble. 
Path.     Did  I  beget  this  woman  ? 
Lei.     Nay,  I  know  not : 

And  till  I  know,  I  will  not  thank  you  for't ; 
How  ever,  he  that  got  me  had  the  pleasure, 
And  that  me  thinks,  is  a  reward  sufficient. 

Path.     I  am  so  strangely  strucken  with  amazement, 
I  know  not  where  I  am,  nor  what  I  am.  (bring  ye 

Lei.     You  had  best  take  fresh  air  some  where  else,  'twill 
Out  of  your  trance  the  sooner. 

Path.     Is  all  this 
As  you  mean,  Leila  ? 

Lei.     Yes  believe  me  is  it, 

For  yet  I  cannot  think  you  are  so  foolish, 

As  to  imagine  you  are  young  enough 

To  be  my  heir,  or  I  so  old  to  make 

A  Nurse  at  these  years  for  you,  and  attend 

While  you  sup  up  my  state  in  penny  pots 

Of  Malmsey  :    when  I  am  excellent  at  Cawdles, 

And  Cullices,  and  have  enough  spare  gold 

To  boil  away,  you  shall  be  welcome  to  me  ; 

'Till  when  I'd  have  you  be  as  merry,  Sir, 

As  you  can  make  your  self  with  that  you  have, 

And  leave  to  trouble  me  with  these  relations, 

Of  what  you  have  been  to  me,  or  you  are, 

For  as  I  hear  them,  so  I  lose  them  ;    this 

For  [a]ught  I  know  yet,  is  my  resolution. 

Path.     Well,  God  be  with  thee,  for  I  fear  thy  end 

Will  be  a  strange  example.  [Exit  Father. 

Lei.     Fare  ye  well,  Sir  ; 

B.-F.  v.  Q  241 


THE   CAPTAIN  ACT  i 

Now  would  some  poor  tender  hearted  fool  have  wept, 
Relented,  and  have  been  undone  :    such  Children 
(I  thank  my  understanding)  I  hate  truly, 
For  by  my  troth  I  had  rather  see  their  tears 
Than  feel  their  pities :    my  desires  and  ends 
Are  all  the  Kindred  that  I  have,  and  friends. 

Enter  Woman. 
Is  he  departed  ? 

Worn.     Yes,  but  here's  another. 

Lei.     Not  of  his  tribe  I  hope;   bring  me  no  more 
I   would  wish  you  such  as  he  is  ;    if  thou  seest 
They  look  like  men  of  worth,  and  state,  and  carry 
Ballast  of  both  sides  like  tall  Gentlemen 
Admit  'em,  but  no  snakes  to  poyson  us 
With  poverty  ;    wench  you  must  learn  a  wise  rule, 
Look  not  upon  the  youths  of  men,  and  making, 
How  they  descend  in  bloud,  nor  let  their  tongues, 
Though  they  strike  suddainly,  and  sweet  as  musick 
Corrupt  thy  fancy  :    see,  and  say  them  fair  too, 
But  ever  keep  thy  self  without  their  distance, 
Unless  the  love  thou  swallow  be  a  pill 
Gilded  to  hide  the  bitterness  it  brings, 
Then  fall  on  without  fear,  wench,  yet  so  wisely 
That  one  encounter  cloy  him  not ;    nor  promise 
His  love  hath  made  thee  more  his,  than  his  monies ; 
Learn  this  and  thrive, 
Then  let  thine  honour  ever 
(For  that's  the  last  rule)  be  so  stood  upon, 
That  men  may  fairly  see 

'Tis  want  of  means,  not  vertue  makes  thee  fall ; 
And  if  you  weep  'twill  be  a  great  deal  better, 
And  draw  on  more  compassion,  which  includes 
A  greater  tenderness  of  love  and  bounty  : 
This  is  enough  at  once,  digest  it  well : 
Go  let  him  in  wench,  if  he  promise  profit, 
Not  else. 

Enter  Julio. 

O  you  are  welcome  my  fair  Servant, 
242 


Sc.  in  THE   CAPTAIN 

Upon  my  troth  I  have  been  longing  for  ye. 

Worn.     This,  by  her  rule,  should  be  a  liberal  man, 
I  see  the  best  on's  may  learn  every  day. 

Lei.     There's  none  come  with  you  ? 

Jul     No. 

Lei.     You  do  the  wiser, 

For  some  that  have  been  here  (I  name  no  man) 
Out  of  their  malice,  more  than  truth,  have  done  me 
Some  few  ill  offices. 

Jul.     How,  Sweet  ? 

Lei.     Nay,  nothing, 
Only  have  tallct  a  little  wildly  of  me  ; 
As  their  unruly  Youth  directed  'em  ; 
Which  though  they  bite  me  not,  I  would  have  wisht 
Had  light  upon  some  other  that  deserv'd  'em. 

Jul.     Though  she  deserve  this  of  the  loosest  tongue 
(Which  makes  my  sin  the  more)  I  must  not  see  it ; 
Such  is  my  misery.     I  would  I  knew  him. 

Lei.     No,  no,  let  him  go, 

He  is  not  worth  your  anger ;    I  must  chide  you 
For  being  such  a  stranger  to  your  Mistriss, 
Why  would  you  be  so,  Servant  ? 

Jul.     I  should  chide, 

If  chiding  would  work  any  thing  upon  you, 
For  being  such  a  stranger  to  your  Servant, 
I  mean  to  his  desires ;    when,  my  dear  Mistress, 
Shall  I  be  made  a  happy  man  ? 

Lei.     Fye,  Servant, 

What  do  you  mean  ?   unhand  me,  or,  by  Heav'n, 
I  shall  be  very  angry,  this  is  rudeness. 

Jul.     'Twas  but  a  kiss  or  two,  that  thus  offends  you. 

Lei.     'Twas  more  I  think,  than  you  have  warrant  for. 

Jul.     I  am  sorry  I  deserv'd  no  more. 

Lei.     You  may, 

But  not  this  rough  way,  Servant;   we  are  tender, 
And  ought  in  all  to  be  respected  so  ; 
If  I  had  been  your  Horse,  or  Whore,  you  might 
Back  me  with  this  intemperance  ;    I  thought 
You  had  lov'd  as  worthy  men,  whose  fair  affections 
Seek  pleasures  warranted,  not  pull'd  by  violence, 

Q2  243 


THE   CAPTAIN  ACT  i 

Do  so  no  more. 

Jul.     I  hope  you  are  not  angry  ? 

Lei.     I  should  be  with  another  man,  I  am  sure, 
That  durst  appear  but  half  thus  violent. 

Jul.     I  did  not  mean  to  ravish  ye. 

Lei.     You  could  not. 

Jul.     You  are  so  willing — 

Lei.     How  ? 

Jul.     Methinks  this  shadow, 
If  you  had  so  much  shame  as  fits  a  woman. 
At  least  of  your  way,  Mistriss,  long  e're  this 
Had  been  laid  off  to  me  that  understand  ye. 

Lei.     That  understand  me  ?     Sir,  ye  understand, 
Nor  shall,  no  more  of  me  than  modesty 
Will,  without  fear,  deliver  to  a  stranger  ; 
You  understand  I  am  honest,  else  I  tell  ye, 
(Though  you  were  better  far  than  Julio) 
You,  and  your  understanding  are  two  fools, 
But  were  we  Saints,  thus  we  are  still  rewarded  : 
I  see  that  Woman  had  a  pretty  catch  on't, 
That  had  made  you  the  Master  of  a  kindness, 
She  durst  not  answer  openly  ;    O  me  ! 
How  easily  we  Women  may  be  cozenM  ! 
I  took  this  Ju/io,  as  I  have  a  faith, 
(This  young  Dissembler  with  the  sober  Vizard) 
For  the  most  modest,  tempered  Gentleman, 
The  coolest,  quietest,  and  best  Companion  ; 
For  such  an  one  I  could  have  wish'd  a  Woman. 

Jul.     You  have  wish'd  me  ill  enough  o'  conscience, 
Make  me  no  worse  for  shame  ;    I  see  the  more 
I  work  by  way  of  service  to  obtain  ye, 
You  work  the  more  upon  me.     Tell  me  truly 
(While  I  am  able  to  believe  a  Woman, 
For  if  you  use  me  thus,  that  faith  will  perish) 
What  is  your  end,  and  whither  you  will  pull  me  ; 
Tell  me,  but  tell  me  that  I  may  not  start  at, 
And  have  a  cause  to  curse  ye. 

Lei.     Bless  me  goodness  ! 
To  curse  me  did  you  say,  Sir  ?    let  it  be 
For  too  much  loving  you  then,  such  a  curse 

244 


Sc.  in  THE   CAPTAIN 

Kill  me  withal,  and  I  shall  be  a  Martyr, 

You  have  found  a  new  way  to  reward  my  doting, 

And  I  confess  a  fit  one  for  my  folly, 

For  you  your  self,  if  you  have  good  within  ye, 

And  dare  be  Master  of  it,  know  how  dearly 

This  heart  hath  held  you  ever  ;    Oh  good  Heaven  ! 

That  I  had  never  seen  that  false  mans  eyes, 

That  dares  reward  me  thus  with  fears  and  curses  ; 

Nor  never  heard  the  sweetness  of  that  tongue, 

That  will,  when  this  is  known,  yet  cozen  women  ; 

Curse  me,  good  Julio,  curse  me  bitterly, 

I  do  deserve  it  for  my  confidence, 

And  I  beseech  thee  if  thou  hast  a  goodness 

Or  power  yet  in  thee  to  confirm  thy  wishes, 

Curse  me  to  earth,  for  what  should  I  do  here 

Like  a  decaying  flower,  still  withering 

Under  his  bitter  words,  whose  kindly  heat 

Should  give  my  poor  heart  life  ?     No,  curse  me,  Julio, 

Thou  canst  not  do  me  such  a  benefit 

As  that,  and  well  done,  that  the  Heav'ns  may  hear  it. 

Jul.     O  fair  tears  !    were  you  but  as  chast  as  subtil, 
Like  Bones  of  Saints,  you  would  work  miracles  ; 
What  were  these  women  to  a  man  that  knew  not 
The  thousand,  thousand  ways  of  their  deceiving  ? 
What  riches  had  he  found  ?     O  he  would  think 
Himself  still  dreaming  of  a  blessedness, 
That  like  continual  spring  should  flourish  ever. 
For  if  she  were  as  good  as  she  is  seeming, 
Or,  like  an  Eagle,  could  renew  her  vertues, 
Nature  had  made  another  world  of  sweetness. 
Be  not  so  griev'd,  sweet  Mistriss,  what  I  said, 
You  do,  or  should  know,  was  but  passion  ; 
Pray  wipe  your  eyes  and  kiss  me ;    take  these  trifles, 
And  wear  them  for  me,  which  are  only  rich 
When  you  will  put  them  on  :    indeed  I  love  ye, 
Beshrew  my  sick  heart,  if  I  grieve  not  for  ye. 

Lei.     Will  you  dissemble  still  ?     I  am  a  fool, 
And  you  may  easily  rule  me,  if  you  flatter, 
The  sin  will  be  your  own. 

Jul.     You  know  I  do  not. 

245 


THE   CAPTAIN  ACT  n 

LeL     And  shall  I  be  so  childish  once  again, 
After  my  late  experience  of  your  spight 
To  credit  you  ?   you  do  not  know  how  deep 
(Or  if  you  did  you  would  be  kinder  to  me,) 
This  bitterness  of  yours  has  struck  my  heart. 


Jul.     I  pray,  no  more. 
Lei.     T 


Thus  you  would  do  I  warrant, 
If  I  were  married  to  you. 

Jul.     Married  to  me  ? 
Is  that  your  end  ? 

LeL     Yes,  is  not  that  the  best  end, 
And,  as  all  hold,  the  noblest  way  of  love  ? 
Why  do  you  look  so  strange,  Sir  ?    do  not  you 
Desire  it  should  be  so  ? 

Jul.     Stay. 

LeL     Answer  me. 

Jul.     Farewel.  [Exit  Julio. 

LeL     I  !    are  you  there  ?   are  all  these  tears  lost  then  ? 
Am  I  so  overtaken  by  a  fool 
In  my  best  days  and  tricks  ?    my  wise  fellow, 
I'll  make  you  smart  for't  as  I  am  a  woman, 
And  if  thou  beest  not  timber,  yet  I'll  warm  thee ; 
And  is  he  gone? 

Enter  Woman. 

Worn.     Yes. 

Lei.     He's  not  so  lightly  struck, 
To  be  recovered  with  a  base  repentance, 
I  should  be  sorry  then  ;    Fortune,  I  prithee 
Give  me  this  man  but  once  more  in  my  arms, 
And  if  I  lose  him,  women  have  no  charms.  [Exeunt. 

Attus   Secundus.     Scena    Prima. 

Enter  Jacomo,  and  Fabricio. 

Jac.     O  Eignior,  what  think  you  of  this  sound  of  Wars  ? 

>^     Fab.    As  only  of  a  sound  ;   they  that  intend 
To  do,  are  like  deep  waters  that  run  quietly, 
Leaving  no  face  of  what  they  were,  behind  'em. 
This  rumour  is  too  common,  and  too  loud 

246 


Sc.  i  THE   CAPTAIN 

To  carry  truth. 

Jac.     Shall  we  never  live  to  see 
Men  look  like  men  again, 
Upon  a  March  ? 

This  cold  dull  rusty  peace  makes  u[s]  appear 
Like  empty  Pictures,  only  the  faint  shadows 
Of  what  we  should  be  ; 
Would  to  Heaven  my  Mother 
Had  given  but  half  her  will  to  my  begetting, 
And  made  me  woman,  to  sit  still  and  sing, 
Or  be  sick  when  I  list,  or  any  thing 
That  is  too  idle  for  a  man  to  think  of; 
Would  I  had  been  a  Whore,  't  had  been  a  course 
Certain,  and  (o'  my  Conscience)  of  more  gain 
Than  two  commands,  as  I  would  handle  it  : 
'Faith,  I  could  wish  I  had  been  any  thing 
Rather  tha[n]  what  I  am,  a  Souldier ; 
A  Carrier  or  a  Cobler,  when  I  knew 
What  'twas  to  wear  a  Sword  first ;  for    their  trades 
Are,  and  shall  be  a  constant  way  of  life, 
While   men  send  Cheeses  up,  or  wear  out  Buskins. 

Fab.     Thou  art  a  little  too  impatient, 
And  mak'st  thy  anger  a  far  more  vexation 
Than  the  not  having  Wars  ;    I  am  a  Souldier, 
Which  is  my  whole  inheritance,  yet  I 
Though  I  could  wish  a  breach  with  all  the  world, 
If  not  dishonourable,  I  am  not  so  malicious, 
To  curse  the  fair  peace  of  my  Mother  Country  ; 
But  thou  want'st  money,  and  the  first  supply 
Will  bury  these  thoughts  in  thee. 

Jac.     'Pox  o'  peace, 
It  fills  the  Kingdom  full  of  holydays, 
And  only  feeds  the  wants  of  Whores  and  Pipers  ; 
And  makes  the  idle  drunken  Rogues  get  Spinsters  : 
'Tis  true,  I  may  want  money,  and  no  little, 
And  almost  Cloaths  too  ;    of  which  if  I  had  both 
In  full  abundance  ;    yet  against  all  peace, 
That  brings  up  mischiefs  thicker  than  a  shower, 
I  would  speak  louder  than  a  Lawyer  ; 
By  Heaven,  it  is  the  surfeit  of  all  youth, 

247 


THE   CAPTAIN  ACT  n 

That  makes  the  toughness,  and  the  strength  of  Nations 
Melt  into  Women.     'Tis  an  ease  that  broods 
Thieves,  and  Bastards  only. 

Fab.     This  is  more, 

(Though  it  be  true)  than  we  ought  to  lay  open, 
And  savours  only  of  an   indiscretion. 
Believe  me,  Captain,  such  distempered  spirits 
Once  out  of  motion,  though  they  be  proof  valiant, 
If  they  appear  thus  violent  and  fiery, 
Breed  but  their  own  disgraces  ;    and  are  nearer 
Doubt  and  suspe6l  in  Princes,  than  rewards. 

Jac.     'Tis  well  they  can  be  near  'em  any  way. 
But  call  you  those  true  spirits  ill  affecled, 
That  whilst  the  wars  were,  serv'd  like  walls  and  ribs 
To  girdle  in  the  Kingdom  ? 
And  now  fain 

Through  a  faint  Peace  into  affliction, 
Speak  but  their  miseries  ?    come,  come,  Fabritio, 
You  may  pretend  what  patience  ye  please, 
And  seem  to  yoak  your  wants  like  passions ; 
But  while   I  know  thou  art  a  Souldier, 
And  a  deserver,  and  no  other  Harvest 
But  what  thy  Sword  reaps  for  thee  to  come  in, 
You  shall  be  pleas' d  to  give  me  leave  to  tell  ye, 
You  wish  a  Devil  of  this  musty  peace  ; 
To  which  Prayer, 

As  one  that's  bound  in  Conscience,  and  all 
That  love  our  trade,  I  cry,  Amen. 

Fab.     Prithee  no  more,  we  shall  live  well  enough, 
There's  ways  enough  besides  the  wars  to  men 
That  are  not  logs,  and  lye  still  for  the  hands 
Of  others  to  remove  'em. 

Jac.     You  may  thrive,  Sir, 

Thou  art  young  and  handsom  yet,  and  well  enough 
To  please  a  Widow  ;    thou  canst  sing,  and  tell 
These  foolish  love-tales,  and  indite  a  little, 
And  if  need  be,  compile  a  pretty  matter, 
And  dedicate  it  to  the  honourable, 
Which  may  awaken  his  compassion, 
To  make  ye  Clark  o'th'  Kitchen,  and  at  length, 

248 


Sc.  i  THE   CAPTAIN 

Come  to  be  married  to  my  Ladies  Woman, 
After  she's  crackt  i'th'  Ring. 

Fab.     'Tis  very  well,  Sir. 

Jac.     But  what  dost  thou  think  shall  become  of  me, 
With  all  my  imperfections  ?    let  me  dye, 
If  I  think  I  shall  ever  reach  above 
A  forlorn  Tapster,  or  some  frothy  fellow, 
That  stinks  of  stale  Beer. 

Fab.     Captain  Jacomo, 
Why  should  you  think  so  hardly  of  your  vertues  ? 

Jac.     What  vertues  ?    by  this  light,  I  have  no  vertue, 
But  down-right  buffetting,  what  can  my  face, 
That  is  no  better  than  a  ragged  Map  now 
Of  where  I  have  march'd  and  travelled,  profit  me  ? 
Unless  it  be  for  Ladies  to  abuse,  and  say 
'Twas  spoil'd  for  want  of  a  Bongrace  when  I  was  young, 
And  now  'twill  make  a  true  prognostication 
Of  what  man  must  be  ?     Tell  me  of  a  fellow 
That  can  mend  Noses,  and  complain, 
So  tall  a  Souldier  should  want  teeth  to  his  Stomach  ; 
And  how  it  was  great  pity,  that  it  was, 
That  he  that  made  my  Body  was  so  busied 
He  could  not  stay  to  make  my  Legs  too  ;    but  was  driven 
To  clap  a  pair  of  Cat-sticks  to  my  Knees,  for  which 
I  am  indebted  to  two  School-Boys  ;    this 
Must  follow  necessary. 

Fab.     There's  no  such  matter. 

Jac.     Then  for  my  Morals,  and  those  hidden  pieces, 
That  Art  bestows  upon  me,  they  are  such, 
That  when  they  come  to  light,  I  am  sure  will  shame  me, 
For  I  can  neither  write,  nor  read,  nor  speak 
That  any  man  shall  hope  to  profit  by  me  ; 
And  for  my  Languages,  they  are  so  many, 
That  put  them  all  together,  they  will  scarce 
Serve  to  beg  single  Beer  in  ;    the  plain  truth  is, 
I  love  a  Souldier,  and  can  lead  him  on, 
And  if  he  fight  well,  I  dare  make  him  drunk  ; 
This  is  my  vertue,  and  if  this  will  do, 
I'll  scramble  yet  amongst  'em. 

Fab.     'Tis  your  way 

249 


THE   CAPTAIN  ACT  n 

To  be  thus  pleasant  still,  but  fear  not,  man, 

For  though  the  Wars  fail,  we  shall  screw  our  selves 

Into  some  course  of  life  yet. 

Jac.     Good  Fabricio, 
Have  a  quick  eye  upon  me,  for  I  fear 
This  Peace  will  make  me  something  that  I  love  not ; 
For  by  my  troth,  though  I  am  plain  and  dudgion, 
I  would  not  be  an  Ass ;   and  to  sell  parcels, 
I  can  as  soon  be  hang'd  :    prithee  bestow  me, 
And  speak  some  little  good,  though  I  deserve  not. 

Enter  Father. 

Fab.     Come,  we'll  consider  more ;    stay,  this 
Should  be  another  wind-fall  of  the  Wars. 

Jac.     He  looks  indeed  like  an  old  tatter'd  Colours, 
That  every  wind  would  borrow  from  the  Staff: 
These  are  the  hopes  we  have  for  all  our  hurts  ; 
They  have  not  cast  his  tongue  too. 

Path.     They  that  say 

Hope  never  leaves  a  wretched  man  that  seeks  her, 
I  think  are  either  patient  fools,  or  liers, 
I  am  sure  I  find  it  so,  for  I  am  mastered, 
With  such  a  misery  and  grief  together 
That  that  stay'd  Anchor,  men  lay  hold  upon 
In  all  their  needs,  is  to  me  Lead  that  bows, 
Or  breaks  with  every  strong  sea  of  my  sorrows. 
I  could  now  question  Heaven  (were  it  well 
To  look  into  their  Justice)  why  those  faults, 
Those  heavy  sins  others  provoke  'em  with 
Should  be  rewarded  on  the  head  of  us, 
That  hold  the  least  alliance  to  their  vices  ; 
But  this  would  be  too  curious  ;    for  I  see 
Our  sufferings,  not  disputing,  is  the  end, 
Reveal'd  to  us  of  all  these  miseries. 

Jac.     Twenty  such  holy  Hermits  in  a  Camp 
Would  make  'em  all  Carthusians,  I'll  be  hang'd 
If  he  know  what  a  Whore  is,  or  a  health, 
Or  have  a  nature  liable  to  learn, 
Or  so  much  honest  nurture  to  be  drunk. 
I  do  not  think  he  has  the  spleen  to  swear 

250 


Sc.  i  THE   CAPTAIN 

A  greater  Oath  than  Semsters  utter  Socks  with, 
S'pur  him  a  question. 

Path.     They  are  strangers  both 
To  me,  as  I  to  them  I  hope  ;    I  would  not  have 
Me  and  my  shame  together  known  by  any, 
I'll  rather  lie  my  self  unto  another. 

Fab.     I  need  not  ask  you,  Sir,  your  Country, 
I  hear  you  speak  this  tongue,  'pray  what  more  are  you  ? 
Or  have  you  been  ?    if  it  be  not  offensive 
To  urge  ye  so  far,  misery  in  your  years 
Gives  every  thing  a  tongue  to  question  it. 

Path.     Sir,  though  I  could  be  pleas' d  to  make  my  ills 
Only  mine  own,  for  grieving  other  men, 
Yet  to  so  fair  and  courteous  a  demander 
That  promises  compassion,  at  worst  pity, 
I  will  relate  a  little  of  my  story. 
I  am  a  Gentleman,  however  thus 
Poor  and  unhappy  ;    which  believe  me,  Sir, 
Was  not  born  with  me  ;    for  I  well  have  try'd 
Both  the  extreams  of  Fortune,  and  have  found 
Both  dangerous  ;    my  younger  years  provok'd  me, 
Feeling  in  what  an  ease  I  slept  at  home, 
Which  to  all  stirring  spirits  is  a  sickness, 
To  see  far  Countrys,  and  observe  their  Customs  : 
I  did  so,  and  I  travell'd  till  that  course 
Stor'd  me  with  language,  and  some  few  slight  manners, 
Scarce  worth  my  money  ;    when  an  itch  possessed  me 
Of  making  Arms  my  active  end  of  travel.     , 

Fab.     But  did  you  so  ? 

Path.     I  did,  and  twenty  Winters 
I  wore  the  Christian  Cause  upon  my  Sword 
Against  his  Enemies,  at  Buda  Siege 
Full  many  a  cold  Night  have  I  lodg'd  in  armour, 
When  all  was  frozen  in  me  but  mine   Honour  ; 
And  many  a  day,  when  both  the  Sun  and  Cannon 
Strove  who  should  most  destroy  us  ;    have  I  stood 
Mail'd  up  in  Steel,  when  my  tough  sinew  shrunk, 
And  this  parch'd  Body  ready  to  consume 
As  soon  to  ashes,  as  the  Pike  I  bore  ; 
Want  has  been  to  me  as  another  Nature, 


251 


THE   CAPTAIN  ACT  n 

Which  makes  me  with  this  patience  still  profess  it ; 

And  if  a  Souldier  may  without  vain  glory 

Tell  what  h'as  done,  believe  me,  Gentlemen, 

I  could  turn  over  annals  of  my  dangers  ; 

With  this  poor  weakness  have  I  man'd  a  breach, 

And  made  it  firm  with  so  much  bloud,  that  all 

I  had  to  bring  me  off  alive  was  anger  ; 

Thrice  was  I  made  a  Slave,  and  thrice  redeem'd 

At  price  of  all  I  had  ;    The  miseries 

Of  which  times,  if  I  had  a  heart  to  tell, 

Would  make  ye  weep  like  Children  ;    but  [I] '11  spare  ye. 

Jac.     Fabricio,  we  two  have  been  Souldiers 
Above  these  fourteen  years,  yet  o'  my  Conscience, 
All  we  have  seen,  compar'd  to  his  experience 
Has  been  but  cudgel-play,  or  Cock-fighting. 
By  all  the  faith  I  have  in  Arms,  I  reverence 
The  very  poverty  of  this  brave  fellow  ; 
Which  were  enough  it  self,  and  his  to  strengthen 
The  weakest  town  against  half  Christendom. 
I  was  never  so  asham'd  of  service 
In  all  my  life  before,  now  I  consider 
What  I  have  done  ;    and  yet  the  Rogues  would  swear 
I  was  a  valiant  fellow;    I  do  find 
The  greatest  danger  I  have  brought  my  life  through, 
Now  I  have  heard  this  worthy,  was  no  more 
Than  stealing  of  a  A/fljy-pole,  or  at  worst, 
Fighting  at  single  Billet  with   a  Barge-man. 

Fab.     I  do  believe  him,  Jacomo. 

Jac.     Believe  him  ? 
I  have  no  faith  within  me,  if  I  do  not. 

Path.     I  see  they  are  Souldiers; 
And  if  we  may  judge  by  affections, 
Brave  and  deserving  men  ;  how  they  are  stir'd 
But  with  a  meer  relation  of  what  may  be  ? 
Since  I  have   won  belief,  and  am  not  known, 
Forgive  me,  Honour,  I'll  make  use  of  thee. 

Fab.     Sir,  would  I  were  a  man,  or  great,  or  able 
To  look  with  liberal  eyes  upon  your  vertue. 

Jac.     Let's  give  him  all  we  have,  and  leave  off  prating. 
Here,  Souldier,  there's  even  five  months  pay,  be  merry, 

i 


Sc.  i  THE  CAPTAIN 

And  get  thee  handsom  Cloaths. 

Fab.     What  mean  you,  Jacomo  ? 

Jac.     Ye  are  a  fool, 

The  very  story's  worth  a  hundred  pound. 
Give  him  more  money. 

Path.     Gentlemen,  I  know  not 
How  I  am  able  to  deserve  this  blessing ; 
But  if  I  live  to  see  fair  days  again, 
Something  I'll  do  in  honour  of  your  goodness, 
That  shall  shew  thankfulness,  if  not  desert. 

Fab.     If  you  please,  Sir,  till  we  procure  ye  place, 
To  eat  with  us,  or  wear  such  honest  Garments 
As  our  poor  means  can  reach  to,  you  shall  be 
A  welcome  man  ;    to  say  more,  were  to  feed  ye 
Only  with  words  ;    we  honour  what  y'have  been, 
For  we  are  Souldiers,  though  not  near  the  worth 
You  spake  of  lately. 

Path.     I  do  guess  ye  so, 
And  knew,  unless  ye  were  a  Souldier, 
Ye  could  not  find  the  way  to  know  my  wants. 

Jac.     But  methinks  all  this  while  y'are  too  temperate  ; 
Do  you  not  tell  men  sometimes  of  the  dulness 
When  you  are  grip't,  as  now  you  are  with  need  ? 
I  do,  and  let  them  know  those  silks  they  wear, 
The  War  weaves  for  'em  ;    and  the  bread  they  eat 
We  sow,  and  reap  again  to   feed  their  hunger ; 
I  tell  them  boldly,  they  are  masters  of 
Nothing  but  what  we  fight  for ;    their  fair  women 
Lye  playing  in  their  arms,  whilst  we,  like  Lares 
Defend  their  pleasures  ;    I  am  angry  too, 
And  often  rail  at  these  forgetful  great  men 
That  suffer  us  to  sue  for  what  we  ought 
To  have  flung  on  us,  e're  we  ask. 

Path.     I  have 

Too  often  told  my  griefs  that  way,  when  all 
I  reapt,  was  rudeness  of  behaviour ; 
In  their  opinion  men  of  War  that  thrive, 
Must  thank  'em  when  they  rail,  and  wait  to  live. 

Fab.     Come,  Sir,  I  see  your  wants  need  more  relieving, 
Than  looking  what  they  are  ;    pray  go  with  us. 

253 


THE   CAPTAIN  ACT  n 

Path.     I  thank  you,  Gentlemen  ;   since  you  are  pleas' d 
To  do  a  benefit,  I  dare  not  cross  it, 
And  what  my  service  or  endeavours   may 
Stand  you  in  stead,  you  shall  command,  not   pray.    [Exeunt. 

Jac.     So  you  shall  us,  I'll  to  the  Taylors  with  you  bodily. 


SCENE   II. 

Enter  Frederick,  Lodovico,  and  Piso. 

Lod.     Well,  if  this  be  true,  I'll  believe  a  Woman 
When  I  have  nothing  else  to  do. 

Piso.     'Tis  certain,  if  there  be  a  way  of  truth 
In  blushes,  smiles,  and  commendations  ; 
For  by  this  light,  I  have  heard  her  praise  yond'  fellow 
In  such  a  pitch,  as  if  sh'ad  studied 
To  crowd  the  worths  of  all  men  into  him, 
And  I  imagine  these  are  seldom  us'd 
Without  their  special  ends,  and  by  a  maid 
Of  her  desires  and  youth. 

Fred.     It  may  be  so. 

She's  free,  as  you,  or  I  am,  and  may  have 
By  that  Prerogative,  a  liberal  choice 
In  the  bestowing  of  her  love. 

Lod.     Bestowing  ? 

If  it  be  so,  she  has  bestow'd  her  self 
Upon  a  trim  youth,  Pisoy  what  do  you  call  him  ? 

Piso.     Why,  Captain  Jacomo. 

Lod.     O,  Captain  Jack-boy, 
That  is  the  Gentleman. 

Fred.     I  think  he  be 
A  Gentleman  at  worst. 

Lod.     So  think  I  too, 
Would  he  would  mend,  Sir. 

Fred.     And  a  tall  one  too. 

Lod.  Yes,  of  his  teeth  ;  for  of  my  faith  I  think 
They  are  sharper  than  his  sword,  and  dare  do  more 
If  the  Buff  meet  him  fairly. 

Fred.     Very  well. 

Piso.     Now  do  I  wonder  what  she  means  to  do 

254 


Sc.  H  THE   CAPTAIN 

When  she  has  married  him. 

Lod.     Why,  well  enough  ; 

Trail  his  Pike  under  him,  and  be  a  Gentlewoman 
Of  the  brave  Captains  Company. 

Fred.     Do  you  hear  me  ? 
This  woman  is  my  Sister,  Gentlemen. 

Lod.     I  am  glad  she  is  none  of  mine;    but  Frederick 
Thou  art  not  such  a  fool  sure  to   be   angry 
Unless  it  be  with  her  ;    we  are  thy  friends,  man. 

Fred.     I  think  ye  are. 

Lod.     Yes,  'faith,  and  do  but  tell  thee 
How  she  will  utterly  overthrow  her  credit, 
If  she  continue  gracing  of  this  pot-gun. 

Piso.     I  think  she  was  bewitcht,  or  mad  or  blind, 
She  would  never  have  taken  such  a  scar-Crow  else 
Into  protection  ;    of  my  life  he  looks 
Of  a  more  rusty  swarth  Complexion 
Than  an  old  arming  Doublet. 

Lod.     I  would  send 

His  face  to  the  Cutlers  then,  and  have  it  sanguin'd, 
'Twill  look  a  great  deal  sweeter  ;    then  his  Nose 
I  would  have  shorter,  and  my  reason  is, 
His  face  will  be  ill  mounted  else. 

Piso.     For  his  Body, 

I  will  not  be  my  own  Judge,  lest  I  seem 
A  Railer,  but  let  others  look  upon't, 
And  if  they  find  it  any  other  thing 
Than  a  Trunk-sellar,  to  send  wines  down  in, 
Or  a  long  walking  bottle,  I'll  be  hang'd  for't ; 
His  Hide  (for  sure  he  is  a  Beast)  is  ranker 
Than  the  A/wftr^wy-Leather,  and  grain'd  like  it : 
And  by  all  likelihoods  he  was  begotten 
Between  a  stubborn  pair  of  Winter-boots  ; 
His  body  goes  with  straps,  he  is  so  churlish. 

Lod.     He's  poor  and  beggarly  besides  all  this, 
And  of  a  nature  far  uncapable 
Of  any  benefit ;    for  his  manners  cannot 
Shew  him  a  way  to  thank  a  man  that  does  one, 
He's  so  uncivil  j    you  may  do  a  part 
Worthy  a  Brother,  to  perswade  your  Sister 

255 


THE   CAPTAIN  ACT  n 

From  her  undoing ;    if  she  prove  so  foolish 
To  marry  this  cast  Captain,  look  to  find  her 
Within  a  month,  where  you,  or  any  good  man, 
Would  blush  to  know  her  ;    selling  cheese  and  prunes, 
And  retailed  Bottle-Ale  ;    I  grieve  to  think, 
Because  I  lov'd  her,  what  a  march  this  Captain 
Will  set  her  into. 

Fred.     You  are  both,  believe  me, 
Two  arrant  Knaves,  and  were  it  not  for  taking 
So  just  an  execution  from  his  hands 
You  have  bely'd  thus,  I  would  swaddle  ye, 
Till  I  could  draw  off  both  your  skins  like  Scabbards. 
That  man  that  you  have  wrong' d  thus,  though  to  me 
He  be  a  stranger,  yet  I  know  so  worthy, 
However  low  in  fortune,  that  his  worst  parts, 
The  very  wearing  of  his  Cloaths,  would  make 
Two  better  Gentlemen  than  you  dare  be, 
For  there  is  vertue  in  his  outward  things. 

Lod.     Belike  you  love  him  then  ? 

Fred.     Yes  marry  do  I. 

Lod.     And  will  be  angry  for  him. 

Fred.     If  you  talk, 
Or  pull  your  face  into  a  stich  again, 
As  I  love  truth  I  shall  be  very  angry. 
Do  not  I  know  thee,  though  thou  hast  some  land 
To  set  thee  out  thus  among  Gentlemen, 
To  be  a  prating,  and  vain-glorious  Ass  ? 
I  do  not  wrong  thee  now,  for  I  speak  truth. 
Do  not  I  know  thou  hast  been  a  cudgel'd  Coward, 
That  has  no  cure  for  shame  but  Cloath  of  Silver  ? 
And  think'st  the  wearing  of  a  gawdy  Suit 
Hides  all  disgraces  ? 

Lod.     I  understand  you  not,  you  hurt  not  me, 
Your  anger  flies  so  wide. 

Piso.     Seignior  Frederick, 
You  much  mistake  this  Gentleman. 

Fred.     No,  Sir. 

Piso.     If  you  would  please  to  be  less  angry, 
I  would  tell  you   how. 

Fred.     You  had  better  study,  Sir, 

256 


Sc.  ii  THE    CAPTAIN 

How  to  excuse  your  self  if  ye  be  able, 
Or  I  shall  tell  you  once  again. 

Piso.     Not  me,  Sir  ; 

For  I  protest  what  I  have  said,  was  only 
To  make  you  understand  your  Sisters  danger. 

Lod.     He  might,  if  it  pleas'd  him,  conceive  it  so. 

Fred.     I  might,  if  it  pleas'd  me,  stand  still  and  hear 
My  Sister  made  a  Af^y-game,  might  I  not  ? 
And  give  allowance  to  your  liberal  jests 
Upon  his  Person,  whose  least  anger  would 
Consume  a  Legion  of  such  wretched  people, 
That  have  no  more  to  justifie  their  actions 
But  their  tongues  ends  ?   that  dare  lie  every  way 
As  a  Mill  grinds  ?   from  this  hour,  I  renounce 
All  part  of  fellowship  that  may  hereafter 
Make  me  take  knowledg  of  ye,  but  for  Knaves  ; 
And  take  heed,  as  ye  love  whole  skins  and  coxcombs, 
How,  and  to  whom,  ye  prate  thus  ;    for  this  time, 
I  care  not  if  I  spare  ye  ;    do  not  shake, 
I  will  not  beat  ye,  though  ye  do  deserve  it 
Richly. 

Lod.     This  is  a  strange  Course,  Frederick  ; 
But  sure  you  do  not,  or  you  would  not  know  us ; 
Beat  us? 

Piso.     'Tis  somewhat  low,  Sir,  to  a  Gentleman. 

Fred.     I'll  speak  but  few  words,  but  I'll  make  'em  truths ; 
Get  you  gone  both,  and  quickly,  without  murmuring, 
Or  looking  big  ;    and  yet  before  you  go, 
I  will  have  this  confess' d,  and  seriously, 
That  you  two  are  two  Rascals. 

Lod.     How  ? 

Fred.     Two  Rascals. 

Come  speak  it  from  your  hearts,  or  by  this  light 
My  sword  shall  flye  among  ye  ;   answer  me, 
And  to  the  point  directly. 

Piso.     You  shall  have 

Your  will  for  this  time  :  since  we  see  y'are  grown 
So  far  untemperate ;    Let  it  be  so  Sir 
In  your  opinion. 

Fred.     Do  not  mince  the  matter, 

B.-F.  V.  R  257 


THE   CAPTAIN  ACT  n 

But  speak  the  words  plain  ;   and  you  Lodovick 
That  stand  so  tally  on  your  reputation, 
You  shall  be  he  shall  speak  it. 

Lod.     This  is  pretty. 

Fred.     Let  me  not  stay  upon't. 

Lod.     Well  we  are  Rascals, 
Yes  Piso,  we  are  Rascals.  [Ex.  Lod.  and  Piso.    • 

Fred.     Get  ye  gone  now,  not  a  word  more,  y'are  Rascals. 

Enter  Fabricio,  and  Jacomo. 

Fab.     That  should  be  Frederick. 

Jac.     'Tis  he  :    Frederick  ? 

Fred.     Who's  that  ? 

Jac.     A  friend  Sir. 

Fred.     It  is  so,  by  the  voyce  : 

I  have  sought  you  Gentlemen,  and  since  I  have  found  you, 
So  near  our  house,  Fie  force  ye  stay  a  while, 
I  pray  let  it  be  so. 

Fab.     It  is  too  late, 

We'l  come  and  dine  to  morrow  with   your  Sister, 
And  do  our  services. 

yac.     Who  were  those  with  you  ? 

Fab.     We  met  two  came  from  hence. 

Fred.     Two  idle  fellows, 

That  you  shall  beat  hereafter,  and  Fie  tell  ye 
Some  fitter  time  a  cause  sufficient  for  it.  J| 

Fab.     But  Frederick,  tell  me  truly  ;    do  you  think 
She  can  affeft  my  friend  ? 

Fred.     No  certainer 

Than  when  I  speak  of  him,  or  any  other, 
She  entertains  it  with  as  much  desire 
As  others  do  their  recreations. 

Fabr.     Let  not  him  have  this  light  by  any  means  ; 
He  will  but  think  he's  mockt,  and  so  grow  angry, 
Even  to  a  quarrel :    he's  so  much  distrustfull 
Of  all  that  take  occasion  to  commend  him — 
Women  especially :    for  which  he  shuns 
All  conversation  with  'em,  and  believes 
He  can  be  but  a  mirth  to  all  their  Sex, 
Whence  is  this  musique  ? 

258 


Sc.  ii  THE   CAPTAIN 

Fred.     From  my  Sisters  chamber. 

Fab.     The  touch  is  excellent,  let's  be  attentive. 

Jac.     Hark,  are  the  Waits  abroad  ? 

Fab.     Be  softer  prethee, 
'Tis  private  musick. 

Jac.     What  a  dyn  it  makes  ! 

I  had  rather  hear  a  Jews  trump  than  these  Lutes, 
They  cry  like  School-boys. 

Fabr.     Prethee  Jacomo. 

Jac.     Well  I  will  hear,  or  sleep,  I  care  not  whether. 

THE   SONG. 

Enter  at  the  Window  Frank,  and  Clora. 

1.  r  I  ^Ell  me  dearest  what  is  Love? 

2.  'Tis  a  lightning  from  above ', 
'T/jr  an  arrow,  'tis  a  fire, 

9Tis  a  boy  they  call  Desire. 
Both.  'Tis  a  grave, 

Gapes  to  have 
Those  poor  fools  that  long  to  prove. 

1 .  Tell  me  more,  are  Women  true  ? 

2.  Yes,  some  are,  and  some  as  you. 
Some  are  willing,  some  are  strange. 
Since  you  men  first  taught  to  change. 

Both.  And  till  troth 

Be  in  both, 
All  shall  love,  to  love  anew. 

1 .  Tell  me  more  yet  can   they  grieve  ? 

2.  Tes,  and  sicken  sore,  but  live: 
And  be  wise,  and  delay, 

When  you  men  are  as  wise  as  they. 
Both.  Then  I  see 

Fai[th]  will  be, 
Never  till  they  both  believe. 

Fran.     Clora,  come  hither ;    who  are  these  below  there  ? 
Clor.     Where  ? 
Fran.     There. 

R2  259 


THE   CAPTAIN  ACT  11 

Clor.     Ha  ?   I  should  know  their  shapes 
Though  it  be  darkish  ;   there  are  both  our  Brothers, 
What  should  they  make  thus  late  here  ? 

Fran.     What's  the  tother  ? 

Clor.     What  tother  ? 

Fran.     He  that  lyes  along  there. 

Clor.     O,  I  see  him 

As  if  he  had  a  branch  of  some  great  Petigree 
Grew  out  on's  belly. 

Fran.     Yes. 

Clor.     That  should  be, 
If  I  have  any  knowledge  in  proportion. — 

Fab.     They  see  us. 

Fred.     'Tis  no  matter. 

Fab.     What  a  log 
Is  this,  to  sleep  such  musique  out  ! 

Fred.     No  more,  let's  hear  'em. 

Clor.     If  I  have  any  knowledge  in  proportion 
The  Captain  Jacomo,  those  are  his  legs 
Upon  my  conscience. 

Fran.     By  my  faith,  and  neat  ones. 

Clor.    You  mean  the  boots,  I  think  they  are  neat  by  nature. 

Fra.     As  thou  art  knavish,  would  I  saw  his  face  ! 

Clor.     'Twould  scare  you  in  the  dark. 

Fran.     A  worse  than   that 
Has  never  scar'd  you  Clora  to  my  knowledge. 

Clor.     JTis  true,  for  I  never  have  seen  a  worse  ; 
Nor  while  I  say  my  prayers  heartily, 
I  hope  I  shall  not. 

Fran.     Well,  I  am  no  tell  tale  : 
But  is  it  not  great  pity,   tell  me  Cloray 
That  such  a  brave  deserving  Gentleman 
As  every  one  delivers  this  to  be, 

Should  have  no  more  respect,  and  worth  flung  on  him 
By  able  men  ?     Were  I  one  of  these  great  ones, 
Such  vertues  should  not  sleep  thus. 

Clor.     Were  he  greater 
He  would  sleep  more  I  think  :    I'le  waken  him. 

Fran.     Away  ye  fool. 

Clor.     Is  he  not  dead  already,  and  they  two  taking  order 
260 


Sc.  ii  THE   CAPTAIN 

About  his  Blacks  ?    me  thinks  they  are  very  busie, 

A  fine  clean  coarse  he  is:    I  would  have  him  buried 

Even  as  he  lyes,  cross  legg'd,  like  one  o'th'   Tempters 

(If  his  Westphalia  gammons  will  hold  crossing) 

And  on  his  brest,  a  buckler  with  a  pike  in't, 

In  which  I  would  have  some  learned  Cutler 

Compile  an  Epitaph,  and  at  his  feet 

A  musquet,  with  this  word  upon  a  Label 

Which  from  the  cocks  mouth  thus  should  be  delivered, 

/  have  discharged  the  office  of  a  Souldier. 

Fran.     Well,  if  thy  Father  were  a  Souldier 
Thus  thou  wouldst  use  him. 

Clora.     Such  a  Souldier, 
I  would  indeed. 

Fab.     If  he  hear  this,  not  all 

The  power  of  man  could  keep  him  from  the  windows 
Till  they  were  down  and  all  the  doors  broke  open  : 
For  Gods  sake  make  her  cooler  :    I   dare  not  venture 
To  bring  him  else  :    I  know  he  will  go  to  buffets 
Within  five  words  with  her,  if  she  holds  this  spirit ; 
Let's  waken  him,  and  away,  we  shall  hear  worse  else. 

Fran.     Well  if  I  be  not  even  with  thee  Clora 
Let  me  be  hang'd  for  this  :    I  know  thou  dost  it 
Only  to  anger  me,  and  purge  thy  wit 
Which  would  break  out  else. 

Clora.     I  have  found  ye, 
Fie  be  no  more  cross,  bid  'em  good  night. 

Fran.     No,  no,  they  shall  not  know  we  have  seen  'em; 
Shut  the  window.  [Ex.  Fran,  and  Clora. 

Fab.     Will  you  get  up  Sir  ? 

Jac.     Have  you  paid  the  Fidlers  ? 

Fab.     You  are  not  left  to  do  it :    Fie  upon  thee, 
Hast  thou  forsworn  manners  ? 

Jac.     Yes  unless 

They  would  let  me  eat  my  meat  without  long  graces 
Or  drink  without  a  preface  to  the  pledger; 
Oft,  will  it  please  you,  shall  I  be  so  bold  Sir, 
Let  me  remember  your  good  bed-fellow, 
And  lye  and  kiss  my  hand  unto  my  Mistris 
As  often  as  an  Ape  does  for  an  Aple ; 

261 


THE   CAPTAIN  ACT  m 

These  are  meer  Schisms  in  Souldiers  ;  where's  my  friend  ? 

These  are  to  us  as  bitter  as  purgations, 

We  love  that  general  freedom  we  are  bred  to ; 

Hang  these  faint  fooleries,  they  smell  of  peace, 

Do  they  not  friend  ? 

Fab.     Faith  Sir  to  me  they  are 
As  things  indifferent,  yet  I  use  'em  not, 
Or  if  I  did,  they  would  not  prick  my  conscience. 

Fred.     Come,  shall  we  go  ?    'tis  late. 

Jac.     Yes  any  whither, 
But  no  more  Musick,  it  has  made  me  dull. 

Fab.     Faith  any  thing  but  drinking  disturbs  thee  Jacomoy 
We'l  ev'n  to  bed. 

Jac.     Content. 

Fab.     Thou  wilt  dream  of  wenches. 

Jac.     I  never  think  of  any  I  thank  Heaven 
But  when  I  am  drunk,  and  then  'tis  but  to  cast 
A  cheap  way  how  they  may  be  all  destroy'd 
Like  vermine  ;    let's  away,  I  am  very  sleepy. 

Fab.     I,  thou  art  ever  so,  or  angry,  come.  [Exeunt. 

Affius   T'ertius.     Seen  a    Prima. 

Enter  Julio,  and  Angelo. 

JuL    T    Will  but  see  her  once  more  Angelo, 

1.      That  I  may  hate  her  more,  and  then  I  am 
My  self  again. 

Ang.  I  would  not  have  thee  tempt  lust, 
'Tis  a  way  dangerous,  and  will  deceive  thee, 
Hadst  thou  the  constancy  of  all  men  in  thee. 

Jul.     Having  her  sins  before  me,  I  dare  see  her 
Were  she  as  catching  as  the  plague,  and  deadly, 
And  tell  her  she  is  fouler  than  all  those 
And  far  more  pestilent,  if  not  repentant, 
And  like  a  strong  man,  chide  her  well,  and  leave  her. 

Ang.     'Tis  easily  said,  of  what  complexion  is  she  ? 

Jul.  Make  but  a  curious  frame  unto  thy  self 
As  thou  wouldst  shape  an  Angel  in  thy  thought ; 
Such  as  the  Poets,  when  their  fancies  sweat, 

262 


Sc.  i  THE   CAPTAIN 

Imagine  Juno  is,  or  fair  ey'd  Pallas^ 

And  one  more  excellent,  than  all  those  figures 

Shalt  thou  find  her ;   she's  brown,  but  of  a  sweetness, 

(If  such  a  poor  word  may  express  her  beauty) 

Believe  me  Angela,  would  do  more  mischief 

With  a  forc't  smile,  than  twenty  thousand  Cupids 

With  their  love  quivers,  full  of  Ladies  eyes, 

And  twice  as  many  flames,  could  fling  upon  us. 

Ang.     Of  what  age  is  she  ? 

Jul.     As  a  Rose  at  fairest, 
Neither  a  bud,  nor  blown,  but  such  a  one, 
Were  there  a  Hercules  to  get  again 
With  all  his  glory,  or  one  more  than  he, 
The  god  would  choose  out  amongst  a  race  of  women 
To  make  a  Mother  of:    she  is  outwardly 
All  that  bewitches  sense ;   all  that  entices, 
Nor  is  it  in  our  vertue  to  uncharm  it. 
And  when  she  speaks,  oh  Angela,  then  musick 
(Such  as  old  Orpheus  made,  that  gave  a  soul 
To  aged  mountains,  and  made  rugged  beasts 
Lay  by  their  rages ;    and  tall  trees  that  knew 
No  sound  but  tempests,  to  bow  down  their  branches 
And  hear,  and  wonder ;   and  the  Sea,  whose  surges 
Shook  their  white  heads  in  Heaven,  to  be  as  mid-night 
Still,  and  attentive)  steals  into  our  souls 
So  suddenly,  and  strangely,  that  we  are 
From  that  time  no  more  ours,  but  what  she  pleases. 

Ang.     Why  look,  how  far  you  have  thrust  your  self  again 
Into  your  old  disease  !    are  you  that  man 
With  such  a  resolution,  that  would  venture 
To  take  your  leave  of  folly,  and  now  melt 
Even  in  repeating  her  ? 

Jul.     I  had  forgot  me. 

Ang.     As  you  will  still  do. 

Jul.     No,  the  strongest  man 
May  have  the  grudging  of  an  ague  on  him, 
This  is  no  more  ;    let's  go,  I  would  fain  be  fit 
To  be  thy  friend  again,  for  now  I  am  no  mans. 

Ang.     Go  you,  I  dare  not  go,  I  tell  you  truly 
Nor  were  it  wise  I  should. 

263 


THE   CAPTAIN  ACT  m 

Jul.     Why  ? 

Ang.     I  am  well, 
And  if  I  can,  will  keep  my  self  so. 

Jul.    Ha  ?  thou  mak'st  me  smile,  though  I  have  little  cause, 
To  see  how  prettily  thy  fear  becomes  thee  ; 
Art  thou  not  strong  enough  to  see  a  woman  ? 

Ang.     Yes,  twenty  thousand  :    but  not  such  a  one 
As  you  have  made  her  :    He  not  lye  for  th'  matter : 
I  know  I  am  frail,  and  may  be  cozen'd  too 
By  such  a  Syren. 

Jul.     Faith  thou  shalt  go,  Angela. 

Ang.     Faith  but  I  will  not ;    no  I  know  how  far  Sir 
I  am  able  to  hold  out,  and  will  not  venture 
Above  my  depth  :    I  do  not  long  to  have 
My  sleep  ta'ne  from  me,  and  go  pulingly 
Like  a  poor  wench  had  lost  her  market-mony  ; 
And  when  I  see  good  meat,  sit  still  and  sigh, 
And  call  for  small  beer  ;    and  consume  my  wit 
In  making  Anagrams,  and  faithful  posies; 
I  do  not  like  that  Itch,  I  am  sure  I  had  rather 
Have  the  main  pox,  and  safer. 

Jul.     Thou  shalt  go, 

I  must  needs  have  thee  as  a  witness  with  me 
Of  my  repentance  ;    as  thou  lov'st  me  go. 

Ang.     Well  I  will  go,  since  you  will  have  it  so, 
But  if  I  prove  a  fool  too,  look  to  have  me 
Curse  you  continually,  and  fearfully. 

Jul.     And  if  thou  seest  me  fall  again,  good  Angelo 
Give  me  thy  counsel  quickly  lest  I  perish. 

Ang.     Pray  Heaven  I  have  enough  to  save  my  self, 
For  as  I  have  a  soul,  I  had  rather  venture 
Upon  a  savage  Island,  than  this  woman.  [Exeunt. 

SCENE    II. 

Enter  Father,  and  Servant. 

Path.     From  whom  Sir,  comes  this  bounty  ?   for  I  think 
You  are  mistaken. 

Serv.     No  Sir,  'tis  to  you 
I  am  sure  my  Mistris  sent  it. 

264 


Sc.  ii  THE   CAPTAIN 

Path.     Who's  your  Mistris, 
That  I  may  give  her  thanks  ? 

Serv.     The  vertuous  Widow. 

Path.     The  vertuous  widow  Sir  ?    I  know  none  such  : 
Pray  what's  her  name  ? 

Ser.     Laelia. 

Path.     I  knew  you  err'd, 
'Tis  not  to  me  I  warrant  ye ;   there  Sir, 
Carry  it  to  those  she  feeds  fat  with  such  favours, 
I  am  a  stranger  to  her. 

Serv.     Good  Sir  take  it, 

And  if  you  will,  I'le  swear  she  sent  it  to  you, 
For  I  am  sure  mine  eye  never  went  off  ye 
Since  you  forsook  the  Gentlemen  you  talk'd  with 
Just  at  her  door. 

Path.     Indeed  I  talkt  with  two 
Within  this  half  hour  in  the  street. 

Serv.     'Tis  you  Sir, 

And  none  but  you  I  am  sent  to  :    wiser  men 
Would  have  been  thankful  sooner,  and  receiv'd  it, 
'Tis  not  a  fortune  every  man  can  brag  of, 
And  from  a  woman  of  her  excellence. 

Fa.     Well  Sir,  I  am  Catechiz'd;  what  more  belongs  to't  ? 

Ser.     This  only  Sir;    she  would  intreat  you  come 
This  evening  to  her  without  fail. 

Path.     I  will. 

Serv.     You  ghess  where. 

Fatb.     Sir  I  have  a  tongue  else.  [Exit  Ser. 

She  is  down-right  Devil ;    or  else  my  wants 
And  her  disobedience  have  provok't  her 
To  look  into  her  foul  self,  and  be  sorry. 
I  wonder  how  she  knew  me  ?     I  had  thought 
I  had  been  the  same  to  all,  I  am  to  them 
That  chang'd  me  thus  :    Heaven  pardon  me  for  lying, 
For  I  have  paid  it  home  :    many  a  good  man 
That  had  but  found  the  profit  of  my  way 
Would  forswear  telling  true  again  in  hast. 

Enter  Lodovico,  and  Piso. 
Here  are  my  praters ;    now  if  I  did  well 

265 


THE   CAPTAIN  ACT  in 

I  should  belabour  'em,  but  I  have  found 

A  way  to  quiet  'em,  worth  a  thousand  on't. 

Lod.     If  we  could  get  a  fellow  that  would  do  it. 

Fat.     What  villany  is  now  in  hand  ? 

Pis.     'Twill  be  hard  to  be  done  in  my  opinion 
Unless  we  light  upon  an  English-man 
With  seven-score  surfeits  in  him. 

Lod.     Are  the  English-men  such  stubborn  drinkers  ? 

Piso.     Not  a  leak  at  Sea 

Can  suck  more  liquor ;    you  shall  have  their  children 
Christened  in  mull'd  sack,  and  at  five  years  old,  able 
To  knock  a  Dane  down  :    Take  an  English-man 
And  cry  St.  George,  and  give  him  but  a  rasher, 
And  you  shall  have  him  upon  even  terms 
Defy  a  hogshead  ;    such  a  one  would  do  it 
Home  boy,  and  like  a  work-man  :    at  what  weapon  ? 

Lod.     Sherry  sack  :    I  would  have  him  drink  stark  dead 
If  it  were  possible :    at  worst  past  portage. 

Piso.     What  is  the  end  then  ? 

Lod.     Dost  thou  not  perceive  it  ? 
If  he  be  drunk  dead,  there's  a  fair  end  of  him. 
If  not,  this  is  my  end,  or  by  enticing, 
Or  by  deceiving,  to  condu6l  him  where 
The  fool  is,  that  admires  him  ;    and  if  sober, 
His  nature  be  so  rugged,  what  wilFt  be 
When  he  is  hot  with  wine  ?   come  let's  about  it, 
If  this  be  done  but  handsomely,  Fie  pawn 
My  head  she  hath  done  with  Souldiers. 

Piso.     This  may  do  well. 

Fat.     Here's  a  new  way  to  murther  men  alive, 
I'le  choak  this  train  :    God  save  ye  Gentlemen. 
It  is  to  you,  stay  :    yes  it  is  to  you. 

Lod.     What's  to  me  ? 

Path.     You  are  fortunate, 

I  cannot  stand  to  tell  you  more  now,  meet  me 
Here  soon,  and  you'l  be  made  a  man.  [Exit  Father. 

Lod.     What  Vision's  this  ? 

Piso.     I  know  not. 
^    Lod.     Well,  I'le  meet  it, 
Think  you  o'th'  other,  and  let  me  a  while 

266 


Sc.  in  THE   CAPTAIN 

Dream  of  this  fellow. 

Piso.     For  the  Drunkard,  Lodovick, 
Let  me  alone. 

Lod.     Come,  let's  about  it  then.  [Exeunt. 

SCENE   III. 

Enter  Clora,  and  Frank. 

Clor.     Ha,  ha,  ha,  pray  let  me  laugh  extreamly. 

Fra.     Why  ?   prethee  why  ?    hast  thou  such  cause  ? 

Clor.     Yes   faith,   my   Brother   will   be   here  straightway, 

Fra.     What?  (and  — 

Clor.     The  other  party  :    ha,  ha,  ha. 

Fra.     What  party  ? 
Wench  thou  art  not  drunk? 

Clor.     No  faith. 

Fra.     Faith  thou  hast  been  among  the  bottles  Clora. 

Clor.     Faith  but  I  have  not  Frank  :  Prethee  be  handsom, 
The  Captain  comes  along  too,  wench. 

Fra.     O  is  that  it 
That  tickles  ye  ? 

Clor.     Yes,  and  shall  tickle  you  too, 
You  understand  me  ? 

Fran.     By  my  troth  thou  art  grown 
A  strange  lewd  wench  :    I  must  e'ne  leave  thy  company, 
Thou  wilt  spoil  me  else. 

Clor.     Nay,  thou  art  spoiPd  to  my  hand  ; 
Hadst  thou  been  free,  as  a  good  wench  ought  to  be, 
When  I  went  first  a  birding  for  thy  Love, 
And  roundly  said,  that  is  the  man  must  do  it, 
I  had  done  laughing  many  an  hour  agoe. 

Fra.    And  what  dost  thou  see  in  him,  now  thou  knowst  him 
To  be  thus  laught  at  ? 

Clor.     Prethee  be  not  angry 
And  Fie  speak  freely  to  thee. 

Fran.     Do,  I  will  not. 

Clor.     Then  as  I  hope  to  have  a  handsom  husband, 
This  fellow  in  mine  eye,  (and  Frank  I  am  held 
To  have  a  shrewd  ghess  at  a  pretty  fellow) 
Appears  a  strange  thing. 

267 


THE    CAPTAIN  ACT  in 

Fra.     Why,  how  strange  for  Gods  sake? 
He  is  a  man,  and  one  that  may  content 
(For  any  thing  I  see)  a  right  good  woman  : 
And  sure  I  am  not  blind. 

Clor.     There  lyes  the  question  ? 
For,  (but  you  say  he  is  a  man,  and  I 
Will  credit  you,)  I  should  as  soon  have  thought  him 
Another  of  Gods  creatures  ;    out  upon  him, 
His  body,  that  can  promise  nothing 
But  laziness  and  long  strides. 

Fra.     These  are  your  eyes ; 
Where  were  they  Clora,  when  you  fell  in  love 
With  the  old  foot-man,  for  singing  of  Queen  Dido  ? 
And  swore  he  look'd  in  his  old  velvet  trunks 
And  his  slic't  Spanish  Jerkin,  like  Don  John  ? 
You  had  a  parlous  judgment  then,  my  Clora. 

Clora.     Who  told  you  that  ? 

Fran.     I  heard  it. 

Clora.     Come,  be  friends, 

The  Souldier  is  a  Mars,  no  more,  we  are  all 
Subject  to  slide  away. 

Fra.     Nay,  laugh  on  still. 

Clor.     No  faith,  thou  art  a  good  wench,  and  'tis  pity 
Thou  shouldst  not  be  well  quarried  at  thy  entring, 
Thou  art  so  high  flown  for  him  :    Look,  who's  there  ? 

Enter  Fabricio,  and  Jacomo. 

Jac.     Prethee  go  single,  what  should  I  do  there  ? 
Thou  knowst  I  hate  these  visitations, 
As  I  hate  peace  or  perry. 

Fab.     Wilt  thou  never 
Make  a  right  man  ? 

Jac.     You  make  a  right  fool  of  me 
To  lead  me  up  and  down  to  visit  women, 
And  be  abus'd  and  laugh'd  at ;  let  me  sta[rv]e 
If  I  know  what  to  say,  unless  I  ask  'em 
What  their  shooes  cost? 

Fab.     Fye  upon  thee,  coward, 
Canst  thou  not  sing  ? 

Jac.     Thou  knowest  I  can  sing  nothing 

268 


Sc.  m  THE   CAPTAIN 

But  Plumpton  park. 

Fab.     Thou't  be  bold  enough, 
When  thou  art  entered  once. 

Jac.     I  had  rather  enter 
A  breach  :    if  I  miscarry,  by  this  hand 
I  will  have  you  by  th'  ears  for't. 

Fab.     Save  ye  Ladies. 

Clo.     Sweet  Brother  I  dare  swear,  you're  welcom  hither, 
So  is  your  Friend. 

Fab.     Come,  blush  not,  but  salute  'em. 

Fra.     Good  Sir  believe  your  Sister ;  you  are  most  welcom, 
So  is  this  worthy  Gentleman  whose  vertues 
I  shall  be  proud  to  be  acquainted  with. 

Jac.     She  has  found  me  out  already,  and  has  paid  me  ; 
we  be  going  ? 

Fab.     Peace ; 
Your  goodness  Lady 
Will  ever  be  afore  us,  for  my  self 
I  will  not  thank  you  single,  lest  I  leave 
My  friend,  this  Gentleman,  out  of  acquaintance. 

Jac.     More  of  me  yet  ? 

Fra.     Would  I  were  able,  Sir, 
From  either  of  your  worths  to  merit  thanks. 

Clor.     But  Brother,  is  your  friend  thus  sad  still  ?  methinks 
'Tis  an  unseemly  nature  in  a  Souldier. 

Jac.     What  hath  she  to  do  with  me,  or  my  behaviour  ? 

Fab.     He  do's  but  shew  so,  prethee  to  him  Sister. 

Jac.     If  I  do  not  break  thy  head,  I  am  no  Christian, 
If  I  get  off  once. 

Clor.     Sir,  we  must  intreat  you 
To  think  your  self  more  welcom,  and  be  merry, 
'Tis  pity  a  fair  man  of  your  proportion 
Should  have  a  soul  of  sorrow. 

Jac.     Very  well ; 
Pray  Gentlewoman  what  would  you  have  me  say  ? 

Clora.     Do  not  you  know,  Sir? 

Jac.     Not  so  well  as  you 
That  talk  continually. 

Fran.     You  have  hit  her,  Sir. 

Clora.     I  thank  him,  so  he  has, 

269 


THE   CAPTAIN  ACT  ra 

Fair  fall  his  sweet  face  for't. 

Jac.     Let  my  face 

Alone,  I  would  wish  you,  lest  I  take  occasion 
To  bring  a  worse  in  question. 

Clora.     Meaning  mine  ? 

Brother,  where  was  your  friend  brought  up  ?    h'as  sure 
Been  a  great  lover  in  his  youth  of  pottage, 
They  lye  so  dull  upon  his  understanding. 

Fab.     No  more  of  that,  thou'lt  anger  him  at  heart. 

do.     Then  let  him  be  more  manly,  for  he  looks 
Like  a  great  School-boy  that  had  been  blown  up 
Last  night  at  dust-point. 

Fran.     You  will  never  leave 
Till  you  be  told  how  rude  you  are,  fye  Clora. 
Sir  will  it  please  you  sit  ? 

Clora.     And  Fie  sit  by  you. 

Jac.     Woman  be  quiet,  and  be  rul'd  I  would  wish  you. 

Clora.     I  have  done,  Sir  Captain. 

Fab.     Art  thou  not  asham'd  ? 

Jac.     You  are  an  asse,  I'le  tell  you  more  anon, 
You  had  better  have  been  hang'd  than  brought  me  hither. 

Fab.     You  are  grown  a  sullen  fool ;    either  be  handsom, 
Or  by  this  light  I'le  have  wenches  bait  thee  ; 
Go  to  the  Gentlewoman,  and  give  her  thanks, 
And  hold  your  head  up  ;    what  ? 

Jac.     By  this  light  I'le  brain  thee. 

Fra.     Now  o'  my  faith  this  Gentleman  do's  nothing 
But  it  becomes  him  rarely ;    Clora,  look 
How  well  this  little  anger,  if  it  be  one, 
Shews  in  his  face. 

Clo.     Yes,  it  shews  very  sweetly. 

Fra.     Nay  do  not  blush  Sir,  o'  my  troth  it  does, 
I  would  be  ever  angry  to  be  thus. 
Fabritio,  o'  my  conscience  if  I  ever 
Do  fall  in  love,  as  I  will  not  forswear  it 
Till  I  am  something  wiser,  it  must  be, 
I  will  not  say  directly  with  that  face, 
But  certainly,  such  another  as  that  is, 
And  thus  dispose  my  chance  to  hamper  me. 
Fab.     Dost  thou  hear  this,  and  stand  still  ? 

270 


Sc.  m  THE   CAPTAIN 

Jac.     You  will  prate  still ; 
I  would  you  were  not  women,  I  would  take 
A  new  course  with  ye. 

Clora.     Why  couragious  ? 

Jac.     For  making  me  a  stone  to  whet  your  tongues  on. 

Clora.     Prethee  sweet  Captain. 

Jac.     Go,  go  spin,  go  hang. 

Clo.     Now  could  I  kiss  him. 

Jac.     If  you  long  for  kicking, 

You'r  best  come  kiss  me,  do  not  though,  I'de  wish  ye, 
Pie  send  my  Foot-man  to  thee,  he  shall  leap  thee, 
And  thou  wantst  horsing  :    I'le  leave  ye  Ladies. 

Fra.     Beshrew  my  heart  you  are  unmannerly 
To  offer  this  unto  a  Gentleman 
Of  his  deserts,  that  comes  so  worthily 
To  visit  me,  I  cannot  take  it  well. 

Jac.     I  come  to  visit  you,  you  foolish  woman  ? 

Fra.     I  thought  you  did  Sir,  and  for  that  I  thank  you, 
I  would  be  loth  to  lose  those  thanks;   I  know 
This  is  but  some  odd  way  you  have,  and  faith 
It  do's  become  you  well  to  make  us  merry  ; 
I  have  heard  often  of  your  pleasant  vein. 

Fab.     What  wouldst  thou  ask  more  ? 

Jac.     Pray  thou  scurvy  fellow 
Thou  hast  not  long  to  live  ;    adieu  dear  Damsels, 
You  filthy  women  farewel,  and  be  sober, 
And  keep  your  chambers. 

Clor.     Farewel  old  Don  Diego. 

Fra.     Away,  away,  you  must  not  [be  so]  angry, 
To  part  thus  roughly  from  us ;    yet  to  me 
This  do's  not  shew,  as  if  it  were  yours,  the  wars 
May  breed  men  something  plain  I  know, 
But  not  thus  rude ;   give  me  your  hand  good  Sir 
I  know  'tis  white,  and — 

Jac.     If  I  were  not  patient, 
What  would  become  of  you  two  prating  houswives  ? 

Clo.     For  any  thing  I  know,  we  would  in  to  supper, 
And  there  begin  a  health  of  lusty  Claret 
To  keep  care  from  our  hearts,  and  it  should  be — 

Fab.     Faith  to  whom  ?     Mark  but  this  Jacomo. 

271 


THE   CAPTAIN  ACT  in 

Clo.     Even  to  the  handsomest  fellow  now  alive. 
Fab.     Do  you  know  such  a  one  ? 
Fra.     He  may  be  ghest  at, 
Without  much  travel. 

Fab.     There's  another  item. 

Clor.     And  he  should  be  a  Souldier. 

Fra.     'Twould  be  better. 

Clor.     And  yet  not  you  sweet  Captain. 

Fra.     Why  not  he  ? 

7ac.     Well ;    I  shall  live  to  see  your  husbands  beat  you, 
hiss  'em  on  "like  ban-dogs. 

Clor  a.     Ha,  ha,  ha. 

Jac.     Green  sicknesses  and  serving-men  light  on  ye 
With  greasy  Codpieces,  and  woollen  stockings, 
The  Devil  (if  he  dare  deal  with  two  women) 
Be  of  your  counsels  :    farewel  Plaisterers —  [Exit  Jac. 

Clora.     This  fellow  will  be  mad  at  Mid-summer 
Without  all  doubt. 

Fab.     I  think  so  too. 

Fra.     I  am  sorry, 

He's  gone  in  such  a  rage  ;    but  sure  this  holds  him 
Not  every  day. 

Fab.     'Faith  every  other  day 
If  he  come  near  a  woman. 

Clor.     I  wonder  how  his  mother  could  endure 
To  have  him  in  her  Belly,  he's  so  boysterous. 

Fra.     He's  to  be  made  more  tractable  I  doubt  not. 

Clo.     Yes,  if  they  taw  him  as  they  do  whit-leather 
Upon  an  iron,  or  beat  him  soft  like  Stock-fish. 

SCENE   IV. 

Enter  Lelia  and  her  waiting-woman  with  a  Vail. 

Lei.     Art  t'  sure  'tis  he  ? 

Worn.     Yes,  and  another  with  him. 

Lei.     The  more  the  merrier  ;    did  you  give  that  money 
And  charg'd  it  to  be  delivered  where  I  shew'd  you? 

Worn.     Yes,  and  what  else  you  bad  me. 

Lei.     That  brave  fellow, 
Though  he  be  old,  whate'r  he  be,  shews  toughness, 

272 


Sc.  iv  THE   CAPTAIN 

And  such  a  one  I  long  for,  and  must  have 
At  any  price  ;    these  young  soft  melting  gristles 
Are  only  for  my  safer  ends. 

Worn.     They  are  here. 

Lei.     Give  me  my  Vail,  and  bid  the  Boy  go  sing 
That  song  above,  I  gave  him  ;    the  sad  song ; 
Now  if  I  miss  him,  I  am  curst,  go,  wench, 
And  tell  'em  I  have  utterly  forsworn 
All  company  of  men,  yet  make  a  venture 
At  last  to  let  'em  in  ;   thou  knowst  these  things, 
Do  'em  to  th'  life. 

Worn.     I  warrant  you  I  am  perfect. 

Lei.     Some  ill  woman  for  her  use  would  give 
A  million  for  this  Wench,  she  is  so  subtle. 

Enter  to  the  door  Julio,  and  Angelo. 

Worn.     Good  Sir,  desire  it  not,  I  dare  not  do  it, 
For  since  your  last  being  here,  Sir,  believe  me, 
She  has  griev'd  her  self  out  of  all  Company, 
And  (sweet  Soul)  almost  out  of  life  too. 

Jul.     Prithee, 
Let  me  but  speak  one  word. 

Worn.     You  will  offend,  Sir, 
And  yet  your  name  is  more  familiar  with  her 
Than  any  thing  but  sorrow,  good  Sir,  go. 

Ang.     This  little  Varlet  hath  her  Lesson  perfeft, 
These  are  the  baits  they  bob  with. 

Jul.     'Faith  I  will  not. 

Worn.     I  shall  be  chidden  cruelly  for  this ; 
But  you  are  such  a  Gentleman — 

Jul.     No  more.  (enough. 

Ang.     There's  a  new  Tyre,  wench ;   peace,  thou  art  well 

Jul.     What,  has  she  musick  ? 

Worn.     Yes,  for  Heavens  sake  stay, 
'Tis  all  she  feeds  upon. 

Jul.     Alas,  poor  soul. 

Ang.     Now  will  I  pray  devoutly,  for  there's  need  on't. 


B.-F.  v.  s  273 


THE    CAPTAIN  ACT  m 

The  SONG. 

\^ay  delights,  go  seek  some  other  dwelling, 
J~\.  For  I  must  dye: 

Far ew el  false  Love,  thy  tongue  is  ever  telling 

Lye  after  Lye. 
For  ever  let  me  rest  now  from  thy  smarts, 

Alas,  for  pity  go, 

And  fire  their  hearts 
That  have  been  hard  to  thee,  mine  was  not  so. 

Never  again  deluding  Love  shall  know  me, 

For  I  will  dye  ; 
And  all  those  griefs  that  think  to  over-grow  me, 

Shall  be  as  I : 
For  ever  will  I  sleep,  while  poor  Maids  cry, 

Alas,  for  pity  stay, 

And  let  us  dye 
With  thee,  men  cannot  mock  us  in  the  day. 

Jul.     Mistriss  ?    not  one  word,  Mistriss  if  I  grieve  ye 
I  can  depart  again. 

Ang.     Let's  go  then  quickly, 
For  if  she  get  from  under  this  dark  Cloud, 
We  shall  both  sweat  I  fear,  for't. 

yul.     Do  but  speak 

Though  you  turn  from  me,  and  speak  bitterly, 
And  I  am  gone,  for  that  I  think  will  please  you. 

Ang.     Oh,  that  all  women  were  thus  silent  ever, 
What  fine  things  they  were  ! 

Jul.     You  have  look'd  on  me, 
When  (if  there  be  belief  in  Womens  words 
Spoken  in  tears)  you  swore  you  lov'd  to  do  so. 

Lei.     Oh  me,  my  heart  ! 

Ang.     Now,  Julio,  play  the  man, 
Or  such  another  O  me  will  undo  thee : 
Would  I  had  any  thing  to  keep  me  busie, 
I  might  not  hear  her ;    think  but  what  she  is, 
Or  I  doubt  mainly,  I  shall  be  i'th'  mash  too. 

Jul.     Tray  speak  again. 

Lei.     Where  is  my  Woman  ? 

274 


Sc.  iv  THE   CAPTAIN 

Worn.     Here. 

Ang.     Mercy  upon  me  !    what  a  face  she  has  ! 
Would  it  were  vail'd  again. 

Lei.     Why  did  you  let 
This  flattering  man  in  to  me  ?    did  not  I 
Charge  thee  to  keep  me  from  his  eyes  again, 
As  carefully  as  thou  wouldst  keep  thine  own  ? 
Thou  hast  brought  me  poyson  in  a  shape  of  Heaven, 
Whose  violence  will  break  the  hearts  of  all, 
Of  all  weak  Women,  as  it  hath  done  mine, 
That  are  such  fools  to  love,  and  look  upon  him. 
Good  Sir,  be  gone,  you  know  not  what  an  ease 
Your  absence  is. 

Ang.     By  Heaven  she  is  a  wonder, 
I  cannot  tell  what  'tis,  but  I  am   [sjquamish. 

?ul.     Though  I  desire  to  be  here  more  than  Heaven, 
am  now,  yet  if  my  sight  offend  you, 
So  much  I  love  to  be  commanded  by  you, 
That  I  will  go  ;    farewel — 

Lei.     I  should  say  something 

E're  you  depart,  and  I  would  have  you  hear  me  ; 
But  why  should  I  speak  to  a  man  that  hates  me, 
And  will  but  laugh  at  any  thing  I  suffer  ? 

Jul.     If  this  be  hate — 

Lei.     Away,  away,  deceiver. 

Jul.     Now  help  me,  Angela  \ 

Ang.     I  am  worse  than  thou  art. 

Lei.     Such  tears  as  those  might  make  another  Woman 
Believe  thee  honest,  Julio,  almost  me, 
That  know  their  ends,  for  I  confess  they  stir  me. 

Ang.     What  will  become  of  me  ?    I  cannot  go  now 
If  you  would  hang  me,  from  her ;    O  brave  Eye  ! 
Steal  me  away,  [for  Gods  sake]  Julio. 

£d.     Alas,  poor  man  !    I  am  lost  again  too,  strangely. 
/.     No,  I  will  sooner  trust  a  Crocodile 
When  he  sheds  tears,  for  he  kills  suddenly, 
And  ends  our  cares  at  once  ;    or  any  thing 
That's  evil  to  our  Natures,  than  a  man  ; 
I  find  there  is  no  end  of  his  deceivings, 
Nor  no  avoiding  'em,  if  we  give  way  ; 

S2  275 


THE   CAPTAIN  ACT  m 

I  was  requesting  you  to  come  no  more 

And  mock  me  with  your  service,  'tis  not  well, 

Nor  honest,  to  abuse  us  so  far ;    you  may  love  too  ; 

For  though,  I  must  confess,  I  am  unworthy 

Of  your  love  every  way ;    yet  I  would  have  you 

Think  I  am  somewhat  too  good  to  make  sport  of. 

Jul.     Will  you  believe  me  ? 

Lei.     For  your  Vows  and  Oaths, 
And  such  deceiving  tears  as  you  shed  now, 
I  will,  as  you  do,  study  to  forget  'em. 

Jul.     Let  me  be  most  despis'd  of  men — 

Lei.     No  more  ; 

There  is  no  new  way  left,  by  which  your  cunning 
Shall  once  more  hope  to  catch  me  ;   no,  thou  false  man, 
I  will  avoid  thee,  and  for  thy  sake  all 
That  bear  thy  stamp,  as  counterfeit  in  love, 
For  I  am  open  ey'd  again,  and  know  thee; 
Go,  make  some  other  weep,  as  I  have  done, 
That  dare  believe  thee;    go,  and  swear  to  her 
That  is  a  stranger  to  thy  cruelty, 
And  knows  not  yet  what  man  is,  and  his  lyings, 
How  thou  di'st  daily  for  her ;    pour  it  out 
In  thy  best  lamentations  ;    put  on  sorrow, 
As  thou  canst,  to  deceive  an  Angel,  Julio, 
And  vow  thy  self  into  her  heart,  that  when 
I  shall  leave  off  to  curse  thee  for  thy  falshood, 
Still  a  forsaken  Woman  may  be  found, 
To  call  to  Heaven  for  vengeance. 

Ang.     From  this  hour, 
I  heartily  despise  all  honest  Women ; 
I  care  not  if  the  World  took  knowledg  on't, 
I  see  there's  nothing  in  them,  but  that  folly 
Of  loving  one  man  only ;    give  me  henceforth, 
(Before  the  greatest  Blessing  can  be  thought  of) 
If  this  be  one,  a  Whore ;   that's  all  I  aim  at. 

Jul.     Mistriss,  the  most  offending  man  is  heard 
Before  his  sentence,  why  will  you  condemn  me 
E're  I  produce  the  truth  to  witness  with  me, 
How  innocent  I  am  of  all  your  angers  ? 

Lei.     There  is  no  trusting  of  that  tongue,  I  know't, 

276 


Sc.  iv 


THE   CAPTAIN 


And  how  far  if  it  be  believ'd,  it  kills ;    no  more,  Sir. 

yul.     It  never  lied  to  you  ;    if  it  did, 
'Twas  only  when  it  call'd  you  mild  and  gentle. 

Lei.     Good  Sir,  no  more  ;    make  not  my  understanding, 
After  I  have  suffer'd  thus  much  evil  by  you, 
So  poor  to  think  I  have  not  reach'd  the  end 
Of  all  your  forc'd  affections ;    yet  because 
I  once  lovM  such  a  sorrow  too  too  dearly, 
As  that  would  strive  to  be ;    I  do  forgive  ye 
Even  heartily,  as  I  would  be  forgiven, 
For  all  your  wrongs  to  me ;    my  charity 
Yet  loves  you  so  far,  (though  again  I  may  not) 
And  wish  when  that  time  comes,  you  will  love  truly, 
(If  you  can  ever  do  so)  you  may  find 
The  worthy  fruit  of  your  affections, 
True  love  again,  not  my  unhappy  Harvest, 
Which,  like  a  fool,  I  sow'd  in  such  a  heart, 
So  dry  and  stony,  that  a  thousand  showers 
From  these  two  eyes,  continually  raining, 
Could  never  ripen. 

Jul.     Y'  have  conquer' d  me  ; 
I  did  not  think  to  yield,  but  make  me  now, 
Even  what  you  will,  my  Leltay  so  I  may 
Be  but  so  truly  happy  to  enjoy  you. 

Lei.     No,  no,  those  fond  imaginations, 
Are  dead  and  buried  in  me,  let  'em  rest. 

Jul.     I'll  marry  you. 

Ang.     The  Devil  thou  wilt,  Julio, 
How  that  word  waken'd  me  !    come  hither,  friend, 
Thou  art  a  fool,  look  stedfastly  upon  her, 
Though  she  be  all  that  I  know  excellent, 
As  she  appears,  though  I  could  fight  for  her, 
And  run  through  fire;    though  I  am  stark  mad  too 
Never  to  be  recovered,  though  I  would 
Give  all  I  had  i'th'  World  to  lye  with  her 
Even  to  my  naked  soul,  I  am  so  far  gone, 
Yet,  methinks  still,  we  should  not  dote  away 
That  that  is  something  more  than  ours,  our  honours. 
I  would  not  have  thee  marry  her  by  no  means, 
Yet  I  should  do  so ;    is  she  not  a  Whore  ? 

277 


THE   CAPTAIN  ACT  in 

Jul.     She  is  ;    but  such  a  one — 

Ang.     'Tis  true,  she's  excellent, 
And  when  I  well  consider,  Ju/io, 
I  see  no  reason  we  should  be  confin'd 
In  our  affections  ;    when  all  Creatures  else 
Enjoy  still  where  they  like. 

Jul.     And  so  will  I  then. 

Lei.     He's  fast  enough  I  hope  now,  if  I  hold  him. 

Ang.     You  must  not  do  so  though,  now  I  consider 
Better  what  'tis. 

Jul.     Do  not  consider,  Angela, 
For  I  must  do  it. 

Ang.     No,  I'll  kill  thee  first, 

I  love  thee  so  well,  that  the  worms  shall  have  thee 
Before  this  Woman,  friend. 

Jul.     It  was  your  counsel. 

Ang.     As  I  was  a  Knave, 
Not  as  I  lov'd  thee. 

Jul.     All  this  is  lost  upon  me,  Angela, 
For  I  must  have  her  ;    I  will  marry  ye 
When  ye  please  :    pray  look  better  on  me. 

Ang.     Nay  then  no  more,  friend  ;    farewel,  Julio, 
I  have  so  much  discretion  left  me  yet 
To  know,  and  tell  thee,  thou  art  miserable. 

Jul.     Stay,  thou  art  more  than  she,  and  now  I  find  it. 

Lei.     Is  he  so  ? 

Jul.     Mistriss. 

Lei.     No,  I'll  see  thee  starv'd  first.  [Exit  Lelia. 

Jul.     Friend. 

Ang.     Fly  her  as  I  do,  Julio,  she's  a  Witch. 

Jul.     Beat  me  away  then,  I  shall  grow  here  still  else. 

Ang.     That  were  the  way  to  have  me  grow  there  with  thee, 
Farewel  for  ever.  [Exit  Angelo. 

Jul.     Stay,  I  am  uncharm'd, 
Farewel  thou  cursed  house,  from  this  hour  be 
More  hated  of  me  than  a  Leprosie.  [Exit  Julio. 

Enter  Lelia. 

Lei.     Both  gone  ?   a  plague  upon  'em  both, 
Am  I  deceiv'd  again  ?     Oh,  I  would  rail 


Sc.  v  THE   CAPTAIN 

And  follow  'em,  but  I  fear  the  spight  of  people, 

Till  I  have  emptied  all  my  gall ;    the  next 

I  seize  upon  shall  pay  their  follies 

To  the  last  penny  ;    This  will  work  me  worse, 

He  that  comes  next,  by  Heav'n  shall  feel  their  curse.         [Exit. 

SCENE   V. 

Enter  Jacomo  at  one  doory  Fabricio  at  another. 

Fab.     O,  ye  are  a  sweet  youth,  so  uncivilly 
To  rail,  and  run  away  ! 

Jac.     O  !    are  you  there,  Sir  ? 

I  am  glad  I  have  found  ye,  you  have  not  now  your  Ladies, 
To  shew  your  wit  before. 

Fab.     Thou  wou'lt  not,  wou'lt  'ou  ? 

Jac.     What  a  sweet  youth  I  am,  as  you  have  made  me, 
You  shall  know  presently. 

Fab.     Put  up  your  Sword, 
I  have  seen  it  often,  'tis  a  Fox. 

Jac.     It  is  so, 

And  you  shall  feel  it  too  ;    will  you  dispatch,  Sir  ? 
And  leave  your  mirth  out  ?    or  I  shall  take  occasion 
To  beat  ye,  and  disgrace  ye  too. 

Fab.     Well,  since  there  is  no  other  way  to  deal  with  you, 
Let's  see  your  Sword,  I  am  sure  you  scorn  all  odds, 
I  will  fight  with  you — 

Jac.     How  now  ?     [  They  measure,  and  Fab.  gets  his  Sword. 

Fab.     Nay,  stand  out, 
Or  by  this  light,  I'll  make  ye. 

Jac.     This  is  scurvy, 
And  out  of  fear  done. 

Fab.     No,  Sir,  out  of  judgment, 

For  he  that  deals  with  thee,  thou'rt  grown  so  boysterous, 
Must  have  more  wits,  or  more  lives  than  another, 
Or  always  be  in  Armour,  or  inchanted, 
Or  he  is  miserable. 

Jac.     Your  end  of  this,  Sir  ? 

Fab.     My  end  is  only  mirth  to  laugh  at  thee, 
Which  now  I'll  do  in  safety  ;    ha,  ha,  ha. 

Jac.     '«S  heart  \    then  I  am  grown  ridiculous. 

279 


THE   CAPTAIN  ACT  in 

Fab.     Thou  art, 

And  wilt  be  shortly  sport  for  little  Children, 
If  thou  continuest  this  rude  stubborness. 

fac.     O  God,  for  any  thing  that  had  an  edge  ! 
?ab.     Ha,  ha,  ha. 
Jac.     Fye,  what  a  shame  it  is, 
To  have  a  Lubber  shew  his  teeth  ! 
Fab.     Ha,  ha. 

Jac.     Why  dost  thou  laugh  at  me,  thou  wretched  fellow  ? 
Speak  with  a  Pox  ;   and  look  ye  render  me 
Just  such  a  reason — 

Fab.     I  shall  dye  with  laughing. 
Jac.     As  no  man  can  find  fault  with ;    I  shall  have 
Another  Sword,  I  shall,  ye  Hearing  Puppy. 

Fab.     Does  not  this  testiness  shew  finely  in  thee  ? 
Once  more  take  heed  of  Children,  if  they  find  thee, 
They'll  break  up  School  to  bear  thee  Company, 
Thou  wilt  be  such  a  pastime,  and  whoot  at  thee, 
And  call  thee  Bloody-Bones,  and  Spade,  and  Spit-fire, 
And  Gaffer  Mad-man  ;    and  go  by  Jeronimo, 
And  will  with  a  wisp,  and  come  aloft,  and  crack  rope, 
And  old  Saint  Dennis  with  the  dudgeon  Codpiss  ! 
And  twenty  such  names. 

Jac.     No,  I  think  they  will  not. 

Fab.     Yes,  but  they  will ;  and  Nurses  still  their  Children 
Only  with  thee,  and  here  take  him,  Jacomo. 

Jac.     God's  precious,  that  I  were  but  over  thee 
One  Steeple  height,  I  would  fall  and  break  thy  Neck. 

Fab.     This  is  the  reason  I  laugh  at  thee, 
And  while  thou  art  thus,  will  do  ;    tell  me  one  thing. 
Jac.     I  wonder  how  thou  durst  thus  question  me  ; 
Prithee  restore  my  Sword. 

Fab.     Tell  me  but  one  thing, 
And  it  may  be  I  will ;    Nay  Sir,  keep  out. 

Jac.     Well,  I  will  be  your  fool  now,  speak  your  mind,  Sir. 

Fab.     Art  thou  not  breeding  teeth  ? 

Jac.     How?    Teeth? 

Fab.     Yes,  teeth,  thou  wouldst  not  be  so  froward  else. 

Jac.     Teeth? 

Fab.     Come,  'Twill  make  thee 

280 


Sc.  vi  THE   CAPTAIN 

A  little  rheumatick,  but  that's  all  one, 
We'll  have  a  Bib,  for  spoiling  of  thy  Doublet ; 
And  a  fring'd  Muckender  hang  at  thy  Girdle, 
I'll  be  thy  Nurse,  and  get  a  Coral  for  thee, 
And  a  fine  Ring  of  Bells. 

Jac.     'Faith,  this  is  somewhat 

Too  much,  Fabricioy  to  your  friend  that  loves  you  ; 
Methinks  your  goodness  rather  should  invent 
A  way  to  make  my  follies  less,  than  breed  'em  ; 
I  should  have  been  more  moderate  to  you, 
But  I  see  ye  despise  me. 

Fab.     Now  I  love  ye, 

There,  take  your  Sword  :    continue  so  ;    I  dare  not 
Stay  now  to  try  your  patience,  soon  I'll  meet  ye, 
And  as  you  love  your  honours,  and  your  state, 
Redeem  your  self  well  to  the  Gentlewoman, 
Farewel  till  soon.  [Exit  Fabricio. 

Jac.     Well,  I  shall  think  of  this.  [Exit  Jacomo. 

SCENE   [VI]. 

Enter  Host,  Piso,  and  Boy  with  a  Glass  of  Wine. 

Pis.     Nothing  i'th'  World,  but  a  dry'd  Tongue  or  two — 

Host.     Taste  him,  and  tell  me. 

Pis.     Is  a  valiant  wine, 
This  must  be  mine,  Host. 

Host.     This  shall  be  ipse, 
Oh,  he's  a  devilish  biting  wine,  a  Tyrant 
Where  he  lays  hold,  Sir,  this  is  he  that  scorns 
Small  Beer  should  quench  him  ;    or  a  foolish  Caudle 
Bring  him  to  Bed  ;   no,  if  he  flinch  I'll  shame  him, 
And  draw  him  out  to  mull  amongst  old  Midwives. 

Piso.     There  is  a  Souldier,  I  would  have  thee  better 
Above  the  rest,  because  he  thinks  there's  no  man 
Can  give  him  drink  enough. 

Host.     What  kind  of  man  ? 

Pis.     That  thou  mayst  know  him  perfectly,  he's  one 
Of  a  left-handed  making,  a  lank  thing  ; 
As  if  his  Belly  were  ta'n  up  with  straw 
To  hunt  a  match. 

281 


THE   CAPTAIN  ACT  iv 

Host.     Has  he  no  Beard  to  shew  him  ? 

Pis.     'Faith,  but  a  little,  yet  enough  to  note  him, 
Which  grows  in  parcels,  here  and  there  a  remnant ; 
And  that  thou  mayst  not  miss  him,  he  is  one 
That  wears  his  forehead  in  a  velvet  scabbard. 

Host.     That  note's  enough,  he's  mine,  I'll  fuddle  him, 
Or  lye  i'th'  suds ;    you  will  be  here  too  ? 

Pis.     Yes,  'Till  soon,  farewel,  and  bear  up. 

Host.     If  I  do  not, 
Say  I  am  recreant,  I'll  get  things  ready. 

Affius  Quartus.     Scena  Prlma. 

Enter  Julio,  and  Angelo. 

Jut.     "HT^IS  strange  thou  should'st  be  thus,  with  thy  dis- 
X          dug.     I  am  sure  I  am  so.  (cretion. 

Jul.     I  am  well  you  see. 

Ang.     Keep  your  self  warm  then,  and  go  home,  &  sleep, 
And  pray  [to  God]  thou  mayst  continue  so  ; 
Would  I  had  gone  to  th'  Devil  of  an  arrant, 
When  I  was  made  a  fool  to  see  her ;    Leave  me, 
I  am  not  fit  for  conversation. 

Jut.     Why,  thou  art  worse  than  I  was. 

Ang.     Therefore  leave  me, 
The  nature  of  my  sickness  is  not  eas'd 
By  company  or  counsel,  I  am  mad, 
And  if  you  follow  me  with  questions, 
Shall  shew  my  self  so. 

Jul.     This  is  more  than  errour. 

Ang.     'Pray  be  content,  that  you  have  made  me  thus, 
And  do  not  wonder  at  me.  (g°ne- 

Jul.     Let  me  know,  but  what  you  mean  to  do,  and  I  am 
I  would  be  loth  to  leave  you  thus  else. 

Ang.     Nothing 

That  needs  your  fear,  that  is  sufficient ; 
Farewel,  and  pray  for  me. 

Jul.     I  would  not  leave  you. 

Ang.     You  must,  and  shall. 

Jul.     I  will  then,  would  yond'  Woman 

282 


Sc.  ii  THE   CAPTAIN 

Had  been  ten  fathom  under  ground,  when  first 
I  saw  her  eyes. 

Ang.     Yet  she  had  been  dangerous, 
For  to  some  wealthy  Rock  of  precious  stone, 
Or  mine  of  Gold,  as  tempting,  her  fair  Body 
Might  have  been  turn'd,  which  once  found  out  by  labour, 
And  brought  to  use,  having  her  Spells  within  it, 
Might  have  corrupted  States,  and  ruin'd  Kingdoms, 
Which  had  been  fearful,  (Friend)  go,  when  I  see  thee 
Next,  I  will  be  as  thou  art,  or  no  more. 
'Pray  do  not  follow  me,  you'll  make  me  angry. 

Jul.     Heav'n  grant  you  may  be  right  again. 

Ang.     Amen.  [Exeunt. 

SCENE   II. 

Enter  Tavern-Boys,  &c. 

Boy.     Score  a  gallon  of  Sack,  and  a  pint  of  Olives  to  the 
Above,  within.     Why  drawer  ?  (Unicorn. 

Boy.     Anon,  anon. 

Another  Boy.     Look  into  the  Nags-head  there. 
2  Boy.     Score  a  quart  of  Claret  to  the  Bar, 
And  a  pound  of  Sausages  into  the  Flower-pot. 

Enter  first  Servant  with  Wine. 

1  Serv.     The  Devil's  in  their  throats ;    anon,  anon. 

Enter  second  Servant. 

2  Ser.     Mull  a  pint  of  Sack  there  for  the  women  in  the 
Flower-deluce,  and  put  in  ginger  enough,  they  belch  like  potguns, 
And  Robin  fetch  Tobacco  for  the  Peacock,  they  will  not  be 
Drunk  till  mid-night  else:   how  now,  how  does  my  Master? 

2  Boy.     Faith  he  lyes  drawing  on  a  pace. 

1  Boy.     That's  an  ill  sign. 

2  Boy.     And  fumbles  with  the  pots  too. 

1  Boy.     Then  there's  no  way  but  one  with  him. 

2  Boy.     All  the  rest, 

Except  the  Captain,  are  in  Limbo  patrum, 
Where  they  lye  sod  in  sack. 

i   Boy.     Does  he  bear  up  still  ? 

283 


THE   CAPTAIN  ACT  iv 

2  Boy.     Afore  the  wind  still,  with  his  lights  up  bravely, 
All  he  takes  in  I  think  he  turns  to  Juleps, 
Or  h'as  a  world  of  Stowage  in  his  belly, 
The  rest  look  all  like  fire-drakes,  and  lye  scattered 
Like  rushes  round  about  the  room.     My  Master 
Is  now  the  loving'st  man,  I  think,  above  ground. 

1  Boy.     Would  he  were  always  drunk  then. 
With  In.     Drawer. 

2  Boy.     Anon,  anon  Sir. 

1  Boy.     And  swears  I  shall  be  free  to  morrow,  and  so  weeps 
And  calls  upon  my  Mistris. 

2  Boy.     Then  he's  right.  (her 
I   Boy.     And  swears  the  Captain  must  lye  this  night  with 

And  bad  me  break  it  to  her  with  discretion, 

That  he  may  leave  an  issue  after  him, 

Able  to  entertain  a  Dutch  Ambassador^ 

And  tells  him  feelingly  how  sweet  she  is, 

And  how  he  stole  her  from  her  friends  i'th'  Country  ; 

And  brought  her  up  disguiz'd  with  the  Carriers, 

And  was  nine  nights  bereaving  her  her  maidenhead, 

And  the  tenth  got  a  drawer,  here  they  come. 

Enter  Jacomo,  Hosty  Lod.  Piso. 

Within  cry  drawer.     Anon,  anon,  speak  to  the  Tyger,  Peter. 

Host.     There's  my  Bells  boys,  my  silver  Bell. 

Piso.     Would  he  were  hang'd 
As  high  as  I  could  ring  him. 

Host.     Captain. 

Jac.     Hoe  Boy. 

Lod.     Robiny  sufficient  single  Beer,  as  cold  as  crystal. 
Quench  Robiny  quench. 

I   Boy.     I  am  gone  Sir. 

Host.     Shall  we  bear  up  still  ?    Captain  how  I  love  thee  ! 
Sweet  Captain  let  me  kiss  thee,  by  this  hand 
I  love  thee  next  to  Malmsey  in  a  morning, 
Of  all  things  transitory. 

Jac.     I  love  thee  too,  as  far  as  I  can  love  a  fat  man. 

Host.     Do'st  thou  Captain  ? 
Sweetly  ?   and  heartily  ? 

Jac.     With  all  my  heart  Boy. 

284 


Sc.  ii  THE   CAPTAIN 

Host.     Then  welcom  death,  come  close  mine  eyes  sweet 
Thou  shalt  have  all.  (Captain 

Jac.     What  shall  your  wife  have  then  ?  (spoon, 

Host.     Why  she  shall  have  besides  my  blessing,  and  a  silver 
Enough  to  keep  her  stirring  in  the  world, 
Three  little  Children,  one  of  them  was  mine 
Upon  my  conscience,  th'  other  two  are  Pagans. 

Jac.     'Twere  good  she  had  a  little  foolish  mony, 
To  rub  the  time  away  with. 

Host.     Not  a  rag, 

Not  a  Deniere,  no,  let  her  spin  a  Gods  name  : 
And  raise  her  house  again. 

Jac.     Thou  shalt  not  dye  though  : 
Boy  see  your  Master  safe  delivered, 
He's  ready  to  lye  in. 

Host.     Good  night. 

Jac.     Good  morrow, 
Drink  till  the  Cow  come  home,  'tis  all  pay'd  boyes. 

Lod.     A  pox  of  Sack. 

Host.     Marry  [God]  bless  my  Buts,  Sack  is  a  Jewel, 
'Tis  comfortable,  Gentlemen. 

Jac.     More  Beer  boy, 
Very  sufficient  single  Beer. 

Boy.     Here  Sir. 
How  is  it  Gentlemen  ? 

Jac.     But  ev'n  so,  so. 

Host.     Go  before  finely  Roblny  and  prepare 
My  wife,  bid  her  be  right  and  streight,  I  come  boy. 
And  Sirrah,  if  they  quarrel,  let  'em  use 
Their  own  discretions,  by  all  means,  and  stir  not, 
And  he  that's  kill'd  shall  be  as  sweetly  buried  ; 
Captain,  adieu,  adieu  sweet  bully  Captain, 
One  kiss  before  I  dye,  one  kiss. 

Jac.     Farewel  Boy. 

Host.     All  my  sweet  boys  farewel.  [Exit  Host. 

Lod.     Go  sleep,  you  are  drunk. 

Ja.     Come  gentlemen,  I'le  see  you  at  your  lodging, 
You  look  not  lustily,  a  quart  more. 

Lod.     No  Boy. 

Piso.     Get  us  a  Torch. 


THE   CAPTAIN  ACT  iv 

Boy.     'Tis  day  Sir. 

?ac.     That's  all  one. 
iso.     Are  not  those  the  stars,  thou  scurvy  Boy  ? 
Lod.     Is  not  Charles-wain  there,  tell  me  that,  there  ? 
Jac.     Yes; 

I  have  paid  'em  truly  :    do  not  vex  him  Sirrah. 
Piso.     Confess  it  Boy,  or  as  I  live  Tie  beat 
Mid-night  into  thy  brains. 
Boy.     I  do  confess  it. 
Piso.     Then  live,  and  draw  more  small  Beer  presently. 

7ac.     Come  Boyes,  let's  hug  together,  and  be  loving, 
sing,  and  do  brave  things  cheerly  my  hearts, 
A  pox  o'  being  sad  ;    now  could  I  fly 
And  turn  the  world  about  upon  my  finger, 
Come  ye  shall  love  me,  I  am  an  honest  fellow  : 
Hang  care  and  fortune,  we  are  friends. 

Lod.     No  Captain. 

Jac.     Do  not  you  love  me  ?     I  love  you  two  dearly. 

Piso.     No  by  no  means  ;    you  are  a  fighting  Captain, 
And  kill  up  such  poor  people  as  we  are,  by  th'  dozens. 

Lod.     As  they  kill  flyes  with  Fox-tails,  Captain. 

Jac.     Well  Sir. 

Lod.     Me  thinks  now  as  I  stand,  the  Captain  shews 
To  be  a  very  mercifull  young  man. 
(And  pre'thee  P/X  let  me  have  thy  opinion). 

Piso.     Then  he  shall  have  mercy,  that  merciful  is, 
Or  all  the  Painters  are  Apocrypha. 

Jac.     I  am  glad  you  have  your  wits  yet,  will  ye  go  ? 

Piso.     You  had  best  say  we  are  drunk. 
fac.     Ye  are. 
Ye  lye. 

Jac.     Y'are  rascals,  drunken  rascals. 
iso.     'Tis  sufficient. 

Jac.     And  now  I'le  tell  you  why,  before  I  beat  ye, 
You  have  been  tampring  any  time  these  three  days, 
Thus  to  disgrace  me. 

Piso.     That's  a  lye  too. 
Jac.     Well  Sir, 

Yet  I  thank  fate  I  have  turn'd  your  points  on  you, 
For  which  I'le  spare  ye  somewhat,  half  a  beating. 

286 


Sc.  m  THE   CAPTAIN 

Piso.     Tie  make  you  fart  fire  Captain,  by  this  hand, 
And  ye  provoke,  do  not  provoke  I'de  wish  you. 

Jac.     How  do  you  like  this  ? 

Lod.     Sure  I  am  inchanted. 

Piso.     Stay  till  I  draw. 

Jac.     Dispatch  then,  I  am  angry. 

Piso.     And  thou  shalt  see  how  suddenly  I'll  kill  thee. 

Jac.     Thou  darst  not  draw,  ye  cold,  tame,  mangy  Cowards, 
Ye  drunken  Rogues,  can  nothing  make  you  valiant  ? 
Not  wine,  nor  beating  ? 

Lod.     If  this  may  be  suffer  M, 
'Tis  very  well. 

Jac.     Go  there's  your  way,  go  and  sleep  : 
I  have  pity  on  you,  you  shall  have  the  rest 
To  morrow  when  we  meet. 

Piso.     Come  Lodowick, 
He's  monstrous  drunk  now,  there's  no  talking  with  him. 

Jac.     I  am  so ;    when  I  am  sober,  I'le  do  more 
Boy  where's  mine  Host  ?  [Ex.  Lod.  and  Piso. 

Boy.     He's  on  his  bed  asleep  Sir.  [Ex.  Boy. 

Jac.     Let  him  alone  then  :    now  am  I  high  proof 
For  any  action,  now  could  I  fight  bravely, 
And  charge  into  a  wild  fire  ;    or  I  could  love 
Any  man  living  now,  or  any  woman, 
Or  indeed  any  creature  that  loves  Sack 
Extreamly,  monstrously  ;    I  am  so  loving, 
Just  at  this  instant,  that  I  might  be  brought 
I  feel  it,  with  a  little  labour,  now  to  talk 
With  a  Justice  of  peace,  that  to  my  nature 
I  hate  next  an  ill  Sword  :    I  will  do 
Some  strange  brave  thing  now,  and  I  have  it  here  : 
Pray  Heaven  the  air  keep  out ;    I  feel  it  buzzing.          [Exit. 

SCENE  III. 

Enter  Frederick,  Frank,  Clora. 

Clora.  She  loves  him  too  much,  that's  the  plain  truth 
For  which  if  I  might  be  believ'd,  I  think  her  (Frederick, 
A  strange  forgetter  of  her  self;  there's  Julio, 


THE   CAPTAIN  ACT  iv 

Or  twenty  more — 

Fred.  In  your  eye  I  believe  you, 
But  credit  me  the  Captain  is  a  man, 
Lay  but  his  rough  affedlions  by,  as  worthy. 

Clora.     So  is  a  resty  Jade  a  horse  of  service, 
If  he  would  leave  his  nature  ;    give  me  one 
By  your  leave  Sir  to  make  a  husband  of 
Not  to  be  wean'd,  when  I  should  marry  him ; 
Me  thinks  a  man  is  misery  enough. 

Fred.     You  are  too  bitter, 
I  would  not  have  him  worse. 
Yet  I  shall  see  you  hamper' d  one  day  Lady, 
I  do  not  doubt  it,  for  this  heresie. 

Clo.     Tie  burn  before;   come  pre'thee  leave  this  sadness; 
This  walking  by  thy  self  to  see  the  Devil, 
This  mumps,  this  Lachrymae,  this  love  in  sippets ; 
It  fits  thee  like  a  French-hood. 

Fra.     Does  it  so  ? 

I  am  sure  it  fits  thee  to  be  ever  talking, 
And  nothing  to  the  purpose,  take  up  quickly  ; 
Thy  wit  will  founder  of  all  four  else  wench, 
If  thou  hold'st  this  pace  ;    take  up  when  I  bid  thee. 

Clora.     Before  your  Brother,  fy  ? 

Fred.     I  can  endure  it. 

Enter  Jacomo. 

Clo.     Here's  Raw-head  come  again  ;   Lord  how  he  looks ! 
Pray  we  'scape  with  broken  pates. 

Fra.     Were  I  he, 

Thou  should'st  not  want  thy  wish,  he  has  been  drinking, 
Has  he  not  Frederick  ? 

Fred.     Yes,  but  do  not  find  it. 

Clor.     Peace  and  let's  hear  his  wisdom. 

Fred.     You  will  mad  him. 

Jac.     I  am  somewhat  bold,  but  that's  all  one. 

Clor.     A  short  and  pithy  saying  of  a  Souldier. 

Fra.     A[s]  I  live 
Thou  art  a  strange  mad  wench. 

Clor.     To  make  a  Parson. 

Jac.     Ladyes  I  mean  to  kiss  ye. 

288 


Sc.  in  THE   CAPTAIN 

Clora.     How  he  wipes  his  mouth  like  a  young  Preacher; 
We  shall  have  it. 

Jac.     In  order  as  you  lye  before  me  ;    first 
I'le  begin  with   you. 

Fra.     With  me  Sir? 

Jac.     Yes. 

Fra.     If  you  will  promise  me  to  kiss  in  ease, 
I  care  not  if  I  venture. 

Jac.     I  will  kiss  according  to  mine  own  inventions 
As  I  shall  see  cause ;    sweetly  I  would  wish  you, 
I  love  ye. 

Fra.     Do  you  Sir  ? 

Jac.     Yes  indeed  do  I, 
Would  I  could  tell  you  how. 

Fra.     I  would  you  would  Sir. 

Jac.     I  would  to  Heaven  I  could,  but  'tis  sufficient, 
I  love  you  with  my  heart. 

Fra.     Alas  poor  heart. 

Jac.     And  I  am  sorry  ;    but  we'l  talk  of  that 
Hereafter,  if  it  please  Heaven. 

Fra.     Ev'n  when  you  will  Sir. 

Clor.     He's  dismal  drunk,  would  he  were  muzled. 

Zac.     You 
2  it  are  the  next. 

Fra.     Go  to  him  fool. 

Clor.     Not  I,  he  will  bite  me. 

Jac.     When  wit  ?   when  ? 

Clor.     Good  Captain. 

Jac.     Nay,  and  you  play  bo-peep  ;    I'le  ha*  no  mercy 
But  catch  as  catch  may. 

Fred.     Nay,  Fie  not  defend  ye. 

Clor.     Good  Captain  do  not  hurt  me,  I  am  sorry 
That  e're  I  anger'd  ye. 

Jac.     I'le  tew  you  for't 
By  this  hand  wit,  unless  you  kiss  discreetly. 

Clor.     No  more  Sir. 

Jac.     Yes  a  little  more  sweet  wit, 
One  tast  more  o'  your  office  :    go  thy  wayes 
With  thy  small  kettle  Drums  ;    upon  my  conscience 
Thou  art  the  best,  that  e're  man  laid  his  leg  o'er. 

B.-F.  v.  T  289 


THE   CAPTAIN  ACT  iv 

Clor.     He  smells  just  like  a  Cellar, 
Fye  upon  him. 

Jac.     Sweet  Lady  now  to  you. 

Clor.     For  loves  sake  kiss  him. 

Fred.     I  shall  not  keep  my  countenance. 

Fra.     Trye  pre'thee. 

Jac.     Pray  be  not  coy  sweet  woman,  for  Tie  kiss  ye, 
I  am  blunt 
But  you  must  pardon  me. 

Clor.     O  God,  my  sides. 

All.     Ha,  ha,  ha,  ha. 

Jac.     Why  ha,  ha,  ha  ?   why  laugh  ? 
Why  all  this  noise  sweet  Ladyes  ? 

Clor.     Lusty  Laurence, 

See  what  a  Gentlewoman  you  have  saluted  ; 
Pray  God  she  prove  not  quick. 

Fred.     Where  were  thine  eyes 
To  take  me  for  a  woman  ?    ha,  ha,  ha. 

Jac.     Who  art  'a,  art  'a  mortal  ? 

Fred.     I  am  Frederick. 

Jac.     Then  Frederick  is  an  Asse, 
A  scurvy  Frederick  to  laugh  at  me. 

Fra.     Sweet  Captain. 

Jac.     Away  woman  ; 

Go  stitch  and  serve,  [God,]  I  despise  thee  woman, 
And  Frederick  shall  be  beaten ;    'Sfut  ye  Rogue 
Have  you  none  else  to  make  your  puppies  of,  but  me  ? 

Fred.     I  pre'thee  be  more  patient 
There's  no  hurt  done. 

Jac.     'Sfut  but  there  shall  be,  Scab. 

Clor.     Help,  help  for  loves  sake. 

Fra.     Who's  within  there  ? 

Fred.     So  now  you  have  made  a  fair  hand. 

Jac.     Why  ? 

Fred.     You  have  kill'd  me—  [Fall  as  kilPd. 

Clor.     Call  in  some  Officers,  and  stay  the  Captain. 

Jac.     You  shall  not  need. 

Clor.     This  is  your  drunkenness. 

Fra.     O  me,  unhappy  Brother,  Frederick, 
Look  but  upon  me,  do  not  part  so  from  me, 

290 


Sc.  in  THE   CAPTAIN 

Set  him  a  little  higher,  he  is  dead. 
Clora.     O  villain,  villain. 

Enter  Fabritio,  and  Servants. 

Fab.     How  now  what's  the  matter  ? 

Fra.     O  Sir  my  Brother  !    O  my  dearest  Brother  ! 

Clor.     This  drunken  trowgh  has  kill'd  him. 

Fab.     Kill'd  him  ? 

Clor.     Yes. 

For  Heavens  sake  hang  him  quickly,  he  will  do 
Ev'ry  day  such  a  murder  else,  there  is  nothing 
But  a  strong  Gallows  that  can  make  him  quiet, 
I  finde  it  in  his  nature  too  late. 

Fab.     Pray  be  quiet, 
Let  me  come  to  him. 

Clor.     Some  go  for  a  Surgeon. 

Fra.     O  what  a  wretched  woman  has  he  made  me  ! 
Let  me  alone  good  Sir. 

Fab.     To  what  a  fortune, 
Hast  thou  reserv'd  thy  life  ! 

Ja.     Fabritio. 

Fab.     Never  entreat  me,  for  I  will  not  know  thee, 
Nor  utter  one  word  for  thee,  unless  it  be 
To  have  thee  hang'd  ;    for  Heaven  sake  be  more  temperate. 

Jac.     I  have  a  sword  still,  and  I  am  a  villain. 

Clor.  &c.     Hold,  hold,  hold. 

Jac.     Ha  ? 

Clor.     Away  with  him  for  Heavens  sake 
He's  too  desperate  for  our  enduring. 

Fab.     Come,  you  shall  sleep,  come  strive  not 
Tie  have  it  so,  here  take  him  to  his  lodging,  and 
See  him  laid  before  you  part.  [Exeunt  Jac.  with  Ser. 

Serv.     We  will  Sir. 

Fred.     Ne're  wonder,  I  am  living  yet,  and  well, 
I  thank  you  Sister  for  your  grief,  pray  keep  it 
Till  I  am  fitter  for  it. 

Fab.     Do  you  live  Sir  ? 

Fred.     Yes,  but  'twas  time  to  counterfeit,  he  was  grown 
To  such  a  madness  in  his  wine. 

Fab.     'Twas  well  Sir, 

T2  291 


THE   CAPTAIN  ACT  iv 

You  had  that  good  respect  unto  his  temper, 

That  no  worse  follow'd.  (perish'd. 

Fred.     If  I  had  stood  him,  certain  one  of  us  must  have 
How  now  Frank  ? 

Fra.     Beshrew  my  heart  I  tremble  like  an  aspin. 

Clor.     Let  him  come  here  no  more  for  Heavens  sake 
Unless  he  be  in  chains. 

Fra.     I  would  fain  see  him 
After  he  has  slept,  Fabritio^  but  to  try 
How  he   will   be  ;   chide  him,  and  bring  him  back. 

Clor.     You'l  never  leave  till  you  be  worried  with  him. 

Fra.     Come  Brother,  we'l  walk  in,  and  laugh  a  little 
To  get  this  Fever  off  me. 

Clor.     Hang  him  squib, 
Now  could  I  grind  him  into  priming  powder. 

Fra.     Pray  will  you  leave  your  fooling  ? 

Fab.     Come,  all  friends. 

Fra.     Thou  art  enough  to  make  an  age  of  men  so, 
Thou  art  so  cross  and  peevish. 

Fab.     I  will  chide  him, 
And  if  he  be  not  graceless,  make  him  cry  for't. 

Clor.     I  would  go  a  mile  (to  see  him  cry)  in  slippers 
He  would  look  so  like  a   whey  cheese. 

Fra.     Would  we  might  see  him  once  more. 

Fab.     If  you  dare 

Venture"  a  second  tryal  of  his  temper 
I  make  no  doubt  to  bring  him. 

Clor.     No,  good  Frank, 
Let  him  alone,  I  see  his  vein  lyes  only 
For  falling  out  at  Wakes  and  Bear-baitings, 
That   may  express  him  sturdy. 

Fab.     Now  indeed 

You  are  too  sharp  sweet  Sister,  for  unless 
It  be  this  sin,  which  is  enough  to  drown   him, 
I  mean  this  sowrness,  he's  as  brave  a  fellow, 
As  forward,  and  as  understanding  else 
As  any   he  that  lives. 

Fra.     I  do   believe  you, 

And  good  Sir  when  you  see  him,  if  we  have 
Distasted  his  opinion  any  way, 

292 


Sc.  iv  THE   CAPTAIN 

Make  peace  again. 

Fab.     I  will :   I'le   leave  ye  Ladies. 

Clor.     Take  heed  you  had  best,  h'as  sworn  to  pay  you  else. 

Fab.     I  warrant  you,  I  have  been  often  threatned.  (ach, 

Clor.     When  he  comes  next,  Tie  have  the  cough  or  tooth- 
Or  something  that  shall  make  me  keep  my  chamber, 
I  love  him  so  well. 

Fra.     Would  you  would  keep  your  tongue.          [Exeunt. 

SCENE  IV. 

Enter  Angelo. 

Ang.       I  cannot  keep  from  this  ungodly  woman, 
This  Lelia^  whom  I  know  too,  yet  am  caught, 
Her  looks  are  nothing  like  her  ;   would  her  faults 
Were  all  in  Paris  print  upon  her  face, 
Cum  Privilegio,  to  use  'em  still, 

I  would  write  an  Epistle  before  it,  on  the  inside  of  her  masque 
And  dedicate  it  to  the  whore  of  Babylon,  with  a  preface  upon 
Her  nose  to  the  gentle  Reader  ;  and  they  should  be  to  be  sold 
At  the  sign  of  the  whores  head  i'th'  pottage  pot,  in  what 
Street  you  please.     But  all  this  helps  not  me  ; — I 
Am  made  to  be  thus  catch'd,  past  any  redress,  with  a  thing 
I  contemn  too. 

I  have  read  Eplftetus  twice  over  against  the 
Desire  of  these  outward  things,  and  still  her  face  runs  in 
My  mind,  I  went  to  say  my  prayers,  and  they  were 
So  laid  out  o'th'  way,  that  if  I  could  find  any  prayers  I 
Had,  I'm  no  Christian, 
This  is  the   door,  and   the  short 
Is,  I  must  see  her  again. —  [He  knocks. 

Enter  Maid. 

Maid.     Who's  there  ? 

Ang.     JTis  I,  I  would  speak  with  your  Mistriss. 

Maid.     Did  she  send  for  you  ? 

Ang.     No,  what  then  ?  I  would  see  her,  prethee  by  thy  leave. 

Maid.  Not  by  my  leave  ;  for  she  will  not  see  you,  but 
doth  hate  you,  and  (so  proper 

Your  friend,  and  doth  wish  you  both  hang'd,  which  being 

293 


THE   CAPTAIN  ACT  iv 

Men,  is  great  pity,  that  you  are  not. 

Ang.     How's  this  ?  (perswaded  your 

Maid.     For  your  sweet  self  in  particular,  who  she  resolves 
Friend  to  neglect  her,  she  deemeth  whip-cord  the  most 
Convenient  unction  for  your  back  and  shoulders. 

Ang.     Let  me  in,  Fie  satisfie  her.  (my  speeches, 

Ma.     And  if  it  shall  happen  that  you  are  in  doubt  of  these 
Insomuch  that  you  shall  spend  more  time  in  arguing  at  the 
Door,  I  am  fully  perswaded  that  my  Mistris  in  person  from 
Above,  will  utter  her  mind  more  at  large  by  way  of 
Urine  upon  your  head,  that  it  may  sink  the  more  soundly 
Into  your  understanding  faculties. 

Ang.     This  is  the  strangest  thing,  good  pretty  soul,  why 
dost  thou  use  me  so  ? 
I  pray  thee  let  me  in  sweet-heart. 

Maid.    Indeed  I  cannot  sweet-heart.         (not  become  thee. 

Ang.     Thou  art  a  handsom  one,  and  this  crosseness  do's 

Maid.     Alas  I  cannot  help  it.  (said  I  lik'd  thee  of 

Ang.     Especially  to  me  ;  thou  knowst  when  I  was  here,  I 
All  thy  Mistriss  Servants.  (press 

Maid.     So  did  I  you,  though  it  be  not  my  fortune  to  ex- 
It  at  this  present :    for  truly  if  you  would  cry,  I  cannot 
Let  you  in.  (you 

Ang.     Pox  on  her,  I  must  go  the  down-right  way :  look 
Here  is  ten  pound  for  you,  let  me  speak  with  her. 

Maid.     I  like  your  gold  well,  but  it  is  a  thing  by  heaven 
I  cannot  do,  she  (affairs. 

Will    not   speak   with    you,  especially  at    this   time,  she    has 

Ang.     This  makes  her  leave  her  jesting  yet,  but  take  it 
And  let  me  see  her,  bring  me  to  a  place 
Where  undiscerned  of  her  self  I  may 
Feed  my  desiring  eyes  but  half  an  hour. 

Maid.    Why  faith  I  think  I  can,  and  I  will  stretch  my  wits 
And  body  too  for  gold  :    if  you  will  swear  as  you 
Are  gentle,  not  to  stir,  or  speak,  where  you  shall  (you' 

See  or  hear,  now,  or  hereafter  :  give  me  your  gold,  Tie  plant 

Ang.     Why,  as  I  am  a  Gentleman,   I  will  not. 

Maid.     Enough,  quick,  follow  me. 

[Ex.  Angelo,  and  Maid. 

294 


Sc.  iv  THE   CAPTAIN 

Enter  Servant. 

S.  Why  where's  this  maid,  she  has  much  care  of  her  business, 
I  think  she  be  sunk  ; — why  Nell — whiew —  (Nell  ? 

Maid  within.     What's  the  matter  ? 

Enter  Maid. 

Ser.     I  pray  you  heartily,  come  away,  oh,  come,  come,  the 

(Gentleman 

My  Mistris  invited,  is  coming  down  the  street,  and  the  banquet 
Not  yet  brought  out  ? —  [They  bring  in  the  Banquet. 

Lei.  within.     Nell,  Sirrah. 

Maid.     I  come  forsooth.  (in  hand,  my 

Ser.     Now  must  I  walk  :  when  there's  any  fleshly  matters 
Mistris  sends  me  of  a  four  hours  errand :    but  if  I  go  not 
About  mine  own  bodily  business  as  well  as  she,  I  am  a  Turk. 

[Exit  Servant. 
Enter  Father. 

Fa.     What,  all  wide  open  ?   'Tis  the  way  to  sin 
Doubtless  ;  but  I  must  on  ;    the  gates  of  Hell 
Are  not  more  passable  than  these  ;    how   they 
Will  be  to  get  out,  God  knows,  I  must  try. 
'Tis  very  strange,  if  there  be  any  life 
Within  this  house,  would  it  would  shew  it  self. 
What's  here  ?    a  Banquet  ?    and  no  mouth  to  eat, 
Or  bid  me  do  it  ?   this  is  something  like 
The  entertainment  of  adventurous  Knights 
Entring  enchanted  Castles:    For  the  manner 
Though  there  be  nothing  dismal  to  be  seen 
Amazes  me  a  little  ;  what  is  meant 
By  this  strange  invitation  ?   I  will  sound 
My  Daughters  meaning  e're  I  speak  to  her, 
If  it  be  possible,  for  by  my  voyce —  [Musique. 

She  will  discover  me  !  hark,  whence  is  this. 

The  SONG. 

COme  hither  you  that  love,  and  hear  me  sing 
of  joyes  still  growing 

Greeny  fresh,  and  lusty,  as  the  pride  of  Spring, 
and  ever  blowing. 

295 


THE   CAPTAIN  ACT  iv 

Come  hither  youths  that  blush,  and  dare  not  know 

what  is  desire, 
And  old  men  worse  than  you,  that  cannot  blow 

one  spark  of  fire. 

And  with  the  power  of  my  enchanting  Song, 
Boyes  shall  be  able  men,  and  old  men  young. 

Enter  Angelo,  above. 

Come  hither  you  that  hope,  and  you  that  cry, 

leave  off  complaining, 
Youth,  strength,  and  beauty,  that  shall  never  dye, 

are  here  remaining. 
Come  hither  fools,  and  blush,  you  stay  so  long 

from  being  blest, 
And  mad  men  worse  than  you,  that  suffer  wrong, 

Yet  seek  no  rest. 

And  in  an  hour,  with  my  enchanting  Song, 
You  shall  be  ever  pleased,  and  young  maids  long. 

Enter  Lelia,  and  her  Maid  with  a  Night-gown  and  Slippers. 

Lei.     Sir  you  are  welcom  hither,  as   this  kiss 
Given  with  a  larger  freedom  than  the  use 
Of  strangers  will  admit,  shall  witness  to  you. 
Put  the  gown  on  him,  in  this  chair  sit  down ; 
Give  him  his  slippers  :    be  not  so  amaz'd, 
Here's  to  your    health,  and  you  shall  feel   this  wine 
Stir  lively  in  me,  in  the  dead  of  night, 
Give  him  some  wine  ;    fall  to  your  banquet   Sir, 
And  let  us  grow  in  mirth  ;    though  I  am  set 
Now  thus  far  off  you,  yet  four  glasses  hence 
I  will  sit  here, 
And  try,  till  both  our  bloods 
Shoot  up  and  down  to  find  a  passage  out, 
Then  mouth  to  mouth  will  we  walk  up  to  bed, 
And  undress  one  another  as  we  go ; 
Where  both  my  treasure,  body,  and  my  soul 
Are  your's  to  be  disposed  of. 

Fa.     Umh,  umh. — Makes  signs  of  his  white  head  &  [b~\eard. 

Lei.     You  are  old, 
Is  that  your  meaning  ?   why,  you  are  to  me 

296 


Sc.  iv  THE   CAPTAIN 

The  greater  novelty,  all  our  fresh  youth 

Are  daily  offer' d  me,  though  you  perform 

As  you  think  little,  yet  you  satisfie 

My  appetite  :    from  your  experience 

I  may  learn  something  in  the  way  of  lust 

I  may  be  better  for.     But  I  can  teach 

These  young  ones  ; 

But  this  day  I  did  refuse 

A  paire  of  'em,  Julio,  and  Angela, 

And  told  them  they  were  as  they  were 

Raw  fools   and  whelps.a  faAng.  makes  discontented  signs. 

Maid.    Pray  God  he  Speak  not.b \b Maid  laies  her  finger  cross 

Lei.  Why  speak  you  not  sweet  sir  ?  \her  ™°uth  to  him. 

Path.     Umh. —  [Stops  his  ears,  shews  he  is  troubled  with 

Lei.    Peace  there,  that  musique,  now  Sir  speak  (the  Musick. 
To  me. 

Path.     Umh. —  Points  at  the  Maid. 

Lei.     Why  ?  would  you  have  her  gone  ?  you  need  not  keep 
Your  freedom  in  for  her ;    she  knows  my  life 
That  she  might  write  it ; 
Think  she  is  a  stone. 
She  is  a  kind  of  bawdy  Confessor, 
And  will  not  utter  secrets. 

Path.     Umh. —  [Points  at  her  again. 

Lei.     Be  gone  then,  since  he  needs  will   have  it  so, 
'Tis  all  one.  [Exit  Maid. — Path,  locks  the  door. 

Is  all  now  as  you  would  ?    come  meet  me  then, 
And  bring  a  thousand  kisses  on  thy  lips, 
And  I   will  rob  thee  of  'em,  and  yet  leave 
Thy  lips  as  wealthy  as  they  were  before. 

Path.     Yes,  all  is  as  I  would  but  thou. 

Lei.     By  Heaven  'tis  my  Father. —  Starts. 

Path.     And  I   do  beseech  thee 

Leave  these  unheard  of  lusts  which  worse  become  thee, 
Than  mocking  of  thy  Father;    let  thine  eyes 
Reflect  upon  thy  soul,  and  there  behold 
How  loathed   black  it  is  ;    and  whereas  now 
Thy  face  is  heavenly  fair,  but  thy  mind  foul, 
Go  but  into  thy  Closet,  and   there  cry 
Till  thou  hast  spoil'd  that  face,  and  thou  shalt  find 

297 


THE   CAPTAIN  ACT  iv 

How  excellent  a  change  thou  wilt  have  made 
For  inward  beauty. 

LeL     Though  I  know  him  now 
To  be  my  Father,  never  let  me  live 
If  my  lust  do  abate, 
Fie  take  upon  me 
To  have  known  him  all  this  while. 

Path.     Look,  dost  thou  know  me  ? 

Lei.     I  knew  ye  Sir  before. 

Fatb.     What  didst  thou  do  ? 

LeL     Knew  you,  and  so  unmov'dly  have  you  born 
All  the  sad  crosses  that  I  laid  upon  you, 
With  such  a  noble  temper,  which  indeed 
I  purposely  cast  on  you,  to  discern 
Your  carriage  in  calamity,  and  you 
Have  undergone  'em  with  that  brave  contempt, 
That  I  have  turn'd  the  reverence  of  a  child 
Into  the  hot  affection  of  a  Lover. 
Nor  can  there  on  the  earth  be  found  but  yours 
A  spirit  fit  to  meet  with  mine. 

Path.     A  woman  ?    thou  art  not  sure. 

LeL     Look  and  believe. 

Fatb.     Thou  art 

Something  created  to  succeed  the  Devil 
When  he  grows  weary  of  his  envious  course, 
And  compassing  the  World  ;    but  I  believe  thee 
Thou  didst  but  mean  to  try  my  patience, 
And  dost  so  still ;   but  better  be  advis'd, 
And  make  thy  tryal  with  some  other  things, 
That  safelier  will  admit  a  dalliance  ; 
And  if  it  should  be  earnest,   understand 
How  curst  thou  art,  so  far  from  Heaven, 
That  thou  believ'st  it  not  enough  to  damn  alone, 
Or  with  a  stranger,   but  wouldst  heap  all   sins 
Unnatural  upon  this  aged  head, 
And  draw  thy  Father  to  thy  Bed,  and  Hell. 

LeL     You  are  deceiv'd,  Sir,  'tis  not  against  nature 
For  us  to  lye  together  ;  if  you  have 
An  Arrow  of  the  same  Tree  with  your  Bow, 
Is't  more  unnatural  to  shoot  it  there 

298 


Sc.  iv  THE   CAPTAIN 

Than  in  another  ?     'Tis  our  general  nature 
To  procreate,  as  fire  is  to  consume, 
And  it  will  trouble  you  to  find  a  stick 
The  fire  will  turn  from  ;    If 't  be  Natures  will 
We  should  not  mix,  she  will  discover  to  us 
Some  most  apparent  crossness,  as  our  organs 
Will  not  be  fit ;    which,  if  we  do  perceive, 
We'll  leave,  and  think  it  is  her  pleasure 
That  we  should  deal  with  others. 

Path.     The  doors  are  fast,  thou  shalt  not  say  a  Prayer, 
'Tis  not  Heavens  will  thou  shouldst ;    when  this  is  done 
I'll  kill  my  self,  that  never  man  may  tell  me 
I  got  thee. 

[Father  draws  his  Sword,  Angelo  discovers  himself. 

Lei.     I  pray  you,  Sir,  help  her,  for  Heavens  sake,  Sir. 

Ang.     Hold,  Reverend  Sir,  for  honour  of  your  Age. 

Path.     Who's  that  ? 

Ang.     For  safety  of  your  Soul,  and  of  the  Soul 
Of  that  too-wicked  woman  yet  to  dye. 

Path.     What  art  thou  r  and  how  cam'st  thou  to  that  place  ? 

Ang.     I  am  a  man  so  strangely  hither  come, 
That  I  have  broke  an  Oath  in  speaking  this, 
But  I  believe  'twas  better  broke  than  kept, 
And  I  desire  your  patience ;    let  me  in, 
And  I  protest  I  will  not  hinder  you 
In  any  acl:  you  wish,  more  than  by  word, 
If  so  I  can  perswade  you,  that  I  will  not 
Use  violence,  I'll  throw  my  Sword  down  to  you  ; 
This  house  holds  none  but  I,  only  a  maid 
Whom  I  will  lock  fast  in  as  I  come  down. 

Path.     I  do  not  know  thee,  but  thy  tongue  doth  seem 
To  be  acquainted  with  the  truth  so  well, 
That  I  will  let  thee  in  ;   throw  down  thy  Sword. 

Ang.     There  'tis. 

Lei.     How  came  he  there  ?  I  am  betray'd  to  shame, 
The  fear  of  sudden  death  struck  me  all  over 
So  violently,  that  I  scarce  have  breath 

[He  lets  in  Angelo,  and  locks  the  Door. 
To  speak  yet  ;    but  I  have  it  in  my  head, 
And  out  it  shall,  that  (Father)  may  perhaps 

299 


THE   CAPTAIN  ACT  iv 

O'r-reach  you  yet. 

Enter  Father^  and  Angelo. 

Path.     Come,  Sir,  what  is't  you  say  ? 

LeL     My  Angelo,  by  all  the  joys  of  love, 
Thou  art  as  welcome  as  these  pliant  arms 
Twin'd  round,  and  fast  about  thee,  can  perswade  thee. 

Ang.     Away. 

Lei.     I  was  in  such  a  fright  before  thou  cam'st, 
Yond'  old  mad  fellow  (it  will  make  thee  laugh, 
Though  it  feared  me)  has  talkt  so  wildly  here — 
Sirrah,  he  rush'd  in  at  my  doors,  and  swore 
He  was  my  Father,  and  I  think  believ'd  it ; 
But  that  he  had  a  Sword,  and  threatned  me — 
I'  faith  he  was  good  sport,  good,  thrust  him  out, 
That  thou  and  I  may  kiss  together  ;    wilt  thou  ? 

Path.     Are  you  her  Champion  ?  and  with  these  fair  words 
Got  in  to  rescue  her  from  me  ?  [Offers  to  run  at  him. 

Ang.     Hold,  Sir, 

I  swear  I  do  not  harbour  such  a  thought, 
I  speak  it  not,  for  that  you  have  two  Swords, 
But  for  'tis  truth. 

Lei.     Two  Swords,  my  Angelo  ? 
Think  this,  that  thou  hast  two  young  brawny  arms 
And  ne'r  a  Sword,  and  he  has  two  good   Swords, 
And  ne'r  an  arm  to  use  'em  ;    rush  upon  him, 
I  could  have  beaten  him  with  this  weak  Body, 
If  I  had  had  the  spirit  of  a  man. 

Ang.     Stand  from  me,  and  leave  talking,  or,  by  Heaven, 
I'll  trample  thy  last  damning  word  out  of  thee. 

Path.     Why  do  you  hinder  me  then  ?   stand  away, 
And  I  will  rid  her  quickly. 

Lei.     Would  I  were 
Clear  of  this  business,  yet  I  cannot  pray. 

Ang.     Oh,  be  advis'd,  why  you  were  better  kill  her 
If  she  were  good,  convey  her  from  this  place, 
Where  none  but  you,  and  such  as  you  appoint, 
May  visit  her  ;    where,  let  her  hear  of  nought 
But  death  and  damning,  which  she  hath  deserv'd, 
Till  she  be  truly,  justly  sorrowful, 

300 


ACT  v  THE   CAPTAIN 

And  then  lay  mercy  to  her,  who  does  know 
But  she  may  mend? 

Path.     But  whither  should  I  bear  her  ? 

Ang.     To  my  house, 
'Tis  large,  and  private,  I  will  lend  it  you. 

Path.     I  thank  you,  Sir,  and  happily  it  fits 
With  some  design  I  have :    but  how  shall  we 
Convey  her  ? 

Lei.     Will  they  carry  me  away  ? 

Path.     For  she  will  scratch  and  kick,  and  scream  so  loud 
That  people  will  be  drawn  to  rescue  her. 

Ang.     Why  ?  none  can  hear  her  here  but  her  own  maid, 
Who  is  as  fast  as  she. 

Path.     But  in  the  street  ? 

Ang.     Why,  we  will  take  'em  both  into  the  Kitchen, 
There  bind  'em,  and  then  gag  'em,  and  then  throw  'em 
Into  a  Coach  I'll  bring  to  the  back-door, 
And  hurry  'em  away. 

Path.     It  shall  be  so, 

I  owe  you  much  for  this,  and  I  may  pay  you, 
There  is  your  Sword,  lay  hold  upon  her  quickly, 
This  way  with  me,  thou  disobedient  Child, 
Why  does  thy  stubborn  heart  beat  at  thy  breast  ? 
Let  it  be  still,  for  I  will  have  it  search'd 
Till  I  have  found  a  Well  of  living  tears 
Within  it,  that  shall  spring  out  of  thine  eyes, 
And  flow  all  o'r  thy  Body  foul'd  with  sin, 
Till  it  have  wash'd  it  quite  without  a  stain.         [They  drag  her. 

Lei.     Help,  help,  ah  !  ah  ! 
Murther,  I  shall  be  murthered,  I  shall  be  murthered. 

Path.     This  helps  thee  not. 

Lei.     Basely  murthered,  basely. 

Path.     I  warrant  you.  [Exeunt. 

Aftus  Quintus.     Scena  Prima. 

Enter  Lodowick,  and  Piso. 

Lod.    r  I  ^His  roguey  Captain  has  made  fine  work  with  us. 

JL       Pis.     I  would  the  Devil  in  a  storm  would  carry 
Home  to  his  Garrison  again  j    I  ake  all  over,  (him 

301 


THE   CAPTAIN  ACT  v 

That  I  am  sure  of;    certainly  my  Body 

Is  of  a  wild-fire,  for  my  head  rings  backward, 

Or  else  I  have  a  morise  in  my  brains. 

Lod.     I'll  deal  no  more  with  Souldiers ;  well  remembred, 
Did  not  the  Vision  promise  to  appear 
About  this  time  again  ? 

Pis.     Yes,  here  he  comes  ; 
He's  just  on's  word. 

Enter  Father. 

Path.     O,  they  be  here  together, 
She's  penitent,  and  by  my  troth  I  stagger 
Whether  (as  now  she  is)  either  of  these 
Two  fools  be  worthy  of  her  ;    yet  because 
Her  youth  is  prone  to  fall  again,  ungovern'd, 
And  marriage  now  may  stay  her,  one  of  'em  ; 
And  PisOy  since   I  understand  him  abler, 
Shall  be  the  man  ;    the  other  bear  the  charges, 
And  willingly,  as  I  will  handle  it. 
I  have  a  Ring  here,  which  he  shall  believe 
Is  sent  him  from  a  woman  I  have  thought  of; 
But  e're  I  leave  it,  I'll   have  one  of  his 
In  pawn  worth  two  on't ;    for  I  will  not  lose 
By  such  a  mess  of  sugar-sops  as  this  is : 
I  am  too  old. 

Lod.     It  moves  again,  let's  meet  it. 

Path.     Now  if  I  be  not  out,  we  shall  have  fine  sport, 
I  am  glad  I  have  met  you,  Sir,  so  happily, 
You  do  remember  me  I  am  sure. 

Lod.     I  do,  Sir. 

Pis.     This  is  a  short  praeludium  to  a  challenge. 

Fa.     I  have  a  message,  Sir,  that  much  concerns  you, 
And  for  your  special  good  ;    nay,  you  may  hear  too. 

Pis.     What  should  this  fellow  mean  ? 

Path.     There  is  a  Lady, 

(How  the  poor  thing  begins  to  warm  already) 
Come  to  this  town,  (as  yet  a  stranger  here,  Sir) 
Fair,  young,  and  rich,  both  in  possessions, 
And  all  the  graces  that  make  up  a  Woman, 
A  Widow,  and  a.  virtuous  onej   it  works, 
302 


Sc.  i  THE   CAPTAIN 

He  needs  no  broth  upon't. 

Lod.     What  of  her,  Sir  ? 

Fatb.     No  more  but  this ;    she  loves  you. 

Lod.     Loves  me  ? 

Fatb.     Yes, 

And  with  a  strong  affection,  but  a  fair  one,  (matter. 

If  ye  be  wise  and  thankful  ye  are  made ;  there's  the  whole 

Lod.     I  am  sure  I    hear  this. 

Path.     Here  is  a  Ring,  Sir,  of  no  little  value ; 
Which  after  she  had  seen  you  at  a  window, 
She  bad  me  haste,  and  give  it,  when  she  blush'd 
Like  a  blown  Rose. 

Lod.     But   pray,  Sir,  by  your  leave — 
Methinks  your  years  should  promise  no  ill  meaning. 

Path.     I  am  no  Bawd,  nor  Cheater,  nor  a  Courser 
Of  broken-winded  women  ;    if  you  fear  me, 
I'll  take  my  leave,  and  let  my  Lady  use 
A  fellow  of  more  form;    an  honester 
I  am  sure  she  cannot. 

Lod.     Stay,  you  have  confirm'd  me, 
Yet  let   me  feel  ;   you  are  in  health  ? 

Path.     I  hope  so, 
My  water's  well  enough,  and  my  pulse. 

Lod.     Then 

All  may  be  excellent  ;    pray  pardon  me, 
For  I  am   like  a  Boy  that  had   found  money, 
Afraid  I  dream  still. 

Pis.     Sir,  what  kind  of  woman  ? 
Of  what  proportion  is  your  Lady  ? 

Led.     I. 

Path.     I'll  tell  you  presently  her  very  Picture, 
Do  you  know  a  woman  in  this  town   they  call 
(Stay,  yes,  it  is  so)  Lelia  ? 

Piso.     Not  by  sight. 

Path.     Nor  you,  Sir? 

Lod.     Neither. 

Path.     These  are  precious  Rogues 
To  rail  upon  a  woman  they  never  saw  ; 
So  they  would  use  their  Kindred. 

Pis.    We  have  heard  though 

303 


THE    CAPTAIN  ACT  v 

She  is  very  fair  and  goodly. 

Path.     Such  another, 

Just  of  the  same  Complexion,  making,  speech, 
But  a  thought  sweeter  is  my  Lady. 

Lod.     Then 
She  must  be  excellent  indeed. 

Path.     Indeed  she  is, 
And  you  will  find  it  so  ;    you  do  believe  me  ? 

Lod.     Yes  marry  do   I,  and  I  am  so  alter'd — 

Path.     Your  happiness  will  alter  any  man  : 
Do  not   delay  the  time,  Sir ;    at  a  house 
Where  Don  Valasco  lay,  the  Spanish  Seignior 
(Which  now  is  Seignior  Angelo's)  she  is. 

Lod.     I  know  it. 

[PatbJ]     But  before  you  shew  your  self, 
Let  it  be  night  by  all  means,  willingly 
By  day  she  would  not  have  such  Gallants  seen 
Repair  unto  her,  'tis  her  modesty. 

Lod.     I'll  go  and  fit  my  self. 

Path.     Do,  and  be  sure 
You  send  provision  in,  in  full  abundance, 
Fit  for  the  Marriage  ;    for  this  night  I  know 
She  will  be  yours,  Sir,  have  you  never  a  token 
Of  worth  to  send  her  back  again  ?  you  must, 
She  will  expect  it. 

Lod.     Yes,  pray  give  her  this. 
And  with  it  all  I  have  ;  I  am  made  for  ever.  [Exit  Lod. 

Pis.     Well,  thou  hast  fools  luck  ;  should  I  live  as  long 
As  an  old  Oak,  and  say  my  prayers  hourly, 
I  should  not  be  the  better  of  a  penny  ; 
I  think  the  Devil  be  my  ghostly  father  ; 
Upon  my  conscience  I  am  full  as  handsome, 
I  am  sure  I  have  more  wit,  and  more  performance, 
Which  is  a  pretty  matter. 

Path.     Do  you  think,  Sir, 

That  your  friend,  Seignior  Pisoy  will  be  constant 
Unto  my  Lady  ?    you  should  know  him   well. 

Piso.     Who  ?     Seignior  Piso  ? 

Path.     Yes,  the   Gentleman. 

Piso.     Why,  you  are  wide,  Sir. 

3°4 


Sc.  i  THE   CAPTAIN 

Path.     Is  not  his  name  Piso  ? 

Piso.     No,  mine  is   Piso. 

Path.     How  ? 

Piso.     'Tis  indeed,  Sir, 
And  his  is  Lodowick. 

Path.     Then  I  am  undone,  Sir, 
For  I  was   sent  at  first  to  Piso  ;    what  a   Rascal 
Was  I,  so  ignorantly  to  mistake  you  ? 

Piso.     Peace, 
There  is  no  harm  done  yet. 

Path.     Now  'tis  too  late, 
I  know  my  errour  ; 
At  turning  of  a  Street, 

For  you  were  then  upon  the  right  hand  of  him, 
You  chang'd  your  places  suddenly  ;    where  I 
(Like  a  cross  block-head)  lost  my   memory ; 
What  shall  I  do  ?   my  Lady  utterly 
Will  put  me  from  her  favour. 

Piso.     Never  fear  it, 

I'll  be  thy  guard  I  warrant  thee  ;    O,  O, 
Am  I  at  length  reputed  ?    for  the  Ring, 
I'll  fetch  it  back  with  a  light  vengeance  from  him ; 
H'ad  better  keep  tame  Devils  than  that  Ring; 
Art  thou  not  Steward? 

Path.     No. 

Pis.     Thou  shalt  be  shortly. 

Path.     Lord,  how  he  takes  it  ! 

Piso.     I'll  go  shift  me  streight ; 
Art  t'  sure  [it]  was  to  Pisol 

Path.     O,  too  sure,  Sir. 

Piso.     I'll  mount  thee  if  I  live  for't,    . 

Give  me  patience,  heav'n,  to  bear  this  blessing  I  beseech  thee ; 
I  am  but  man,  I  prithee  break  my  head 
To  make  me  understand  I  am  sensible. 

Path.     Lend  me  your  Dagger,  and  I  will,  Sir. 

Piso.     No. 
I  believe  now  like  a  good  Christian. 

Path.     Good  Sir,  make  hast ;   I  dare  not  go  without  ye 
Since  I  have  so  mistaken. 

Piso.     'Tis  no  matter, 

B.-F.  v.  u  305 


THE   CAPTAIN  ACT  v 

Meet  me  within  this  half  hour  at  St.  Margarets. 
Well,  go  thy  ways,  old  Lad,  thou  hast  the  trick  on't. 

[Exit  Piso. 

Enter  Angelo,  and  Julio. 

A ng.     How  now  ?   the  news  ? 

Path.     Well,  passing  well,  I  have  'em, 
Both  in  a  leash,  and  made  right  for  my  purpose. 

Jul.     I  am  glad  on't,  I  must  leave  you. 

Ang.     Whither  man  ? 

Jul.     If  all  go  right  I  may  be  fast  enough  too. 

Ang.     I  cry  you  mercy,  Sir,  I  know  your  meaning, 
Clara's  the  woman,  she's  Franks  Bedfellow, 
Commend  me  to  'em,  go,  Julio, 
Bring  'em  to  supper  all,  to  grace  this  matter  ; 
They  will  serve  for  witnesses. 

Jul.     I  will,  farewel. 

[Exit  Julio  at  one  door,  and  Ang.  and  Path,  at  another. 

SCENE   II. 

Enter  Clora,  Frank,  and  Frederick,  and  Maid. 

Fred.     Sister,  I  brought  you  Jacomo  to  the  door, 
He  has  forgot  all  that  he  said  last  night ; 
And  shame  of  that  makes  him  [more]  loth  to  come, 
I  left  Fabricio  perswading  him,  but  'tis  in  vain. 

Fran.     Alas,  my  fortune,  Clora. 

Clor.     Now  Frank,  see  what  a  kind  of  man  you  love, 
That  loves  you  when  he's  drunk. 

Fran.     If  so, 

'Faith,  I  would  marry  him  ;    my  friends  I  hope 
Would  make  him  drink.  (humours  then, 

Clor.     'Tis   well    consider'd,    Frank,   he    has   such    pretty 
Besides,  being  a  Souldier,  'tis  better  he  should  love 
You  when  he's  drunk,  than  when  he's  sober,  for  then  he 
Will  be  sure  to  love  you  the  greatest  part  on's  life. 

Fran.     And  were  not  I  a  happy  woman  then  ? 

Clor.     That  ever  was  born,  Frank,  i'  faith — 

Fred.     How  now,  what  says  he  ? 
306 


Sc.  ii  THE   CAPTAIN 

Enter  Fabricio. 

(and  Bell 

Fab.     'Faith,  you  may  as  well  'tice  a  Dog  up  with  a  Whip 
As  him,  by  telling  him  of  Love  and  Women,  he  swears 
They  mock  him. 

Fred.     Look  how  my  Sister  weeps. 

Fab.     Why,  who  can  help  it  ? 

Fred.     Yes,  you  may  safely  swear  she  loves  him. 

Fab.     Why,  so  I  did ;    and  may  do  all  the  oaths, 
Arithmetick  can  make,  e're  he  believe  me  ; 
And  since  he  was  last  drunk,  he  is  more  jealous 
They  would  abuse  him  ;    if  we  could  perswade  him 
She  lov'd,  he  would  embrace  it. 

Fred.     She  her  self 

Shall  bate  so  much  of  her  own  modesty 
To  swear  it  to  him,  with  such  tears  as  now 
You  see  rain  from  her. 

Fab.     I  believe  'twould  work, 
But  would  you  have  her  do't  i'th'  open  street  ? 
Or  if  you  would,  he'll  run  away  from  her, 
How  shall  we  get  him  hither  ? 

Fred.     By  entreaty. 

Fab.     'Tis  most  impossible,  no,  if  we  could 
Anger  him  hither,  as  there  is  no  way 
But  that  to  bring  him,  and  then  hold  him  fast, 
Women,  and  men,  whilst  she  delivers  to  him  the  truth 
Seal'd  with  her  tears,  he  would  be  plain 
As  a  pleas'd  Child  ;    he  walks  below  for  me 
Under  the  window. 

Clor.     We'll  anger  him  I  warrant  ye, 
Let  one  of  the  maids  take  a  good  Bowl  of  water, 
Or  say  it  be  a  piss-pot,  and  pour't  on's  head. 

Fab.     Content,  hang  me  if  I  like  not  the  cast  of  it  rarely, 

(for  no  question 

It  is  an  approv'd  Receipt  to  fetch  such  a  fellow  ;  (one, 

Take  all  the  women-kind  in  this  house,  betwixt  the  Age  of 
And  one  hundred,  and  let  them  take  unto  them  a  pot  or  a 
Bowl  containing  seven  quarts  or  upwards,  and  let  them 
Never  leave,  till  the  above  named 
Pot  or  Bowl  become  full,  then  let  one  of  them  stretch  out 

U2  307 


THE   CAPTAIN  ACT  v 

Her  Arm,  and  pour  it  on  his  head,  and  probatum  esty  it 
Will  fetch  him,  for  in  his  anger  he  will  run  up,  and  then  let 
Us  alone. 

Clor.     Go  you  and  do  it.  [Exit  Maid. 

Fran.     Good  Clara,  no.  (that 

Clor.  Away  I  say,  &  do  it,  never  fear,  we  have  enough  of 
Water  ready  distill'd. 

Fran.     Why,  this  will  make  him  mad,  Fabricio^ 
He'll  neither  love  me  drunk  nor  sober  now. 

Fab.     I  warrant  you ;    what,  is  the  wench  come  up  ? 

Enter  Wench. 

Clor.     Art  thou  there,  wench  ? 

Wench.     I. 

Fab.     Look  out  then  if  thou  canst  see  him.      (could  not 

Wench.  Yes,  I  see  him,  and  by  my  troth  he  stands  so  fair  I 
Hold  were  he  my  Father,  his  hat's  off  too,  and  he's  scratching 
His  head. 

Fab.     O,  wash  that  hand  I  prithee.  (thrown  thee 

Wench.  'Send  thee  good  luck,  this  the  second  time  I  have 
Out  to  day,  ha,  ha,  ha,  just  on's  head. 

Fran.     Alas ! 

Fab.     What  does  he  now  ?  (Street  windows. 

Wench.     He  gathers  stones,  God's  light,  he  breaks  all  the 

yac.     Whores,  Bawds,  your  windows,  your  windows. 

Wench.  Now  he  is  breaking  all  the  low  windows  with 
His  Sword,  (him, 

Excellent  sport,  now  he's  beating  a  fellow  that  laugh'd  at 
Truly  the  man  takes  it  patiently ;  now  he  goes  down  the  street 
Gravely,  looking  on  each  side,  there's  not  one  more  dare  laugh. 

Fran.     Does  he  go  on  ? 

Wench.     Yes. 

Fran.     Fabricio,  you  have  undone  a  Maid 

[Frank  kneels. 

By  treachery  ;    know  you  some  other  better, 
You  would  prefer  your  friend  to  ?    if  you  do  not 
Bring  him  again,  I  have  no  other  hope, 
But  you  that  made  me  lose  hope,  if  you  fail  me, 
I  ne'r  shall  see  him,  but  shall  languish  out 
A  discontented  life,  and  dye  contemn'd. 

308 


Sc.  in  THE   CAPTAIN 

Fab.     This  vexes  me,  I  pray  you  be  more  patient, 

[Lifts  her  up. 

If  I  have  any  truth,  let  what  will  happen, 
I'll  bring  him  presently,  do  ye  all  stand 
At  the  Street  door,  the  maids,  and  all,  to  watch 
When  I  come  back,  and  have  some  private  place 
To  shuffle  me  into  ;   for  he  shall  follow 
In  fury,  but  I  know  I  can  out-run  him 
As  he  comes  in,  clap  all  fast  hold  on  him  ; 
And  use  your  own  discretions. 

Fred.     We  will  do  it. 

Fab.     But  suddenly,  for  I  will  bring  him  hither 
With  that  unstopt  speed,  that  he  shall  run  over 
All  that's  in's  way  ;    and  though  my  life  be  ventur'd 
'Tis  no  great  matter,  I  will  do't. 

Fran.     I  thank  you, 
Worthy  Fabricio.  [Exeunt. 

SCENE   III. 

Enter  Jacomo. 

Jac.     I  ever  knew  no  woman  could  abide  me, 
But  am  I  grown  so  contemptible,  by  being  once  drunk 
Amongst  'em,  that  they  begin  to  throw  piss  on  my  head  ? 
For  surely  it  was  piss,  huh,  huh.  [seem  to  smelL 

Enter  Fabritio. 

Fab.     Jacomoy  how  do'st  thou  ? 

Jac.     Well,  something  troubled  with  waterish  humours. 

Fab.     Foh,  how  thou  stink'st !  pre'thee  stand  further  off  me, 
Me  thinks  these  humours  become  thee  better  than  thy  dry 
Cholerick  humours,  or  thy  wine-wet  humours  ;    ha  ? 

Jac.  You're  pleasant,  but  Fabritio  know  I  am  not  in  the 
Suffering  jests.  (mood  of 

Fab.  If  you  be  not  i'th'  mood  I  hope  you  will  not  be  moody, 
But  truly  I  cannot  blame  the  Gentlewomen,  you  stood  eves- 
Under  their  window,  and  would  not  come  up.  (dropping 

Jac.     Sir,  I  suspect  now,  by  your  idle  talk 
Your  hand  was  in't,  which  if  I  once  believe, 

3°9 


THE   CAPTAIN  ACT  v 

Be  sure  you  shall  account  to  me.  (you  already, 

Fab.     The  Gentlewomen  and  the  Maids  have  counted  to 

The  next  turn  I  see  is  mine. 

Jac.     Let  me  dye  but  this  is  very  strange  ;  good  Fabritio 

Do  not  provoke  me  so.  (there's  no 

Fab.     Provoke  you  ?   you're  grown  the  strangest  fellow  ; 

Keeping  company  with  you,  phish  ;    take  you  that. 

•  hint  a 

ind  throws  him  front 


Jac.    O  all  the  Devils  !  stand  Slave.    (Fab.  «»«  him  a  box  o'tK  ear 

•fc-l        T7_ll_.  .    :c  .u  _        j__»_.  \Suddenly  and 


---^      .  ,  *C         \  1*  j»»*«"      kt-^t/,  «-/•«•        -/-*•/•  v «/o  mm  jrurrt- 

rollOW    me    it    tnOU    dar  St.  }htm,  and  goes  his  -way,  whilst 

» Jaco.  draws  his  Sword. 

Stay  coward,  stay.  —  Jac.  runs  after  Fabricio. 


SCENE    IV. 

Enter  Fred.  Fra.  Clora,  and  Servant,  and  Maid. 

Clora.     Be  ready  for  I  see  Fabritio  running, 
And  Jacomo  behind  him. 

Enter  Fabritio. 

Fab.     Where's  the  place  ? 

Fred.     That  way  Fabritio.  [Exit  Fabritio. 

Enter  Jacomo. 

Jac.     Where  art  thou  treacher,         (Fred.  Clor.  and  Maid,  lay 
What  is  the  matter  Sirs  ?  poW  °n  Jacomo. 

Why  do  you  hold  me  ?    I  am  basely  wrong'd, 
Torture,  and  hell  be  with  you  ;    let  me  go.      rtbey  drag  him  to 

Fre.    Good  Jac.  be  patient,  and  but  hear  \a  chair  and  hold 
What  I  can  say,  you  know  I  am  your  friend,    ™'tm  doqun  in't- 
If  you  yet  doubt  it,  by  my  soul  I  am. 

Jac.     S'death  stand  away  ; 
I  would  my  breath  were  poyson. 

Fred.     As  I  have  life,  that  which  was  thrown  on  you, 
And  this  now  done,  were  but  to  draw  you  hither 
For  causes  weighty,  that  concern  your  self, 
Void  of  all  malice,  which  this  Maid  my  Sister 
Shall  tell  you. 

Jac.     Puh,  a  pox  upon  you  all ;    you  will  not  hold  me 
For  ever  here,  and  till  you  let  me  go, 
Fie  talk  no  more. 

310 


Sc.  iv  THE   CAPTAIN 

Fran.     As  you're  a  Gentleman 
Let  not  this  boldness  make  me  be  believ'd 
To  be  immodest  ;    if  there  were  a  way 
More  silently  to  be  acquainted  with  you, 
God  knows,  that  I  would  choose,  but  as  it  is 
Take  it  in  plainness  :    I  do  love  you  more 
Than  you  do  your  content,  if  you  refuse 
To  pity  me,  Fie  never  cease  to  weep, 
And  when  mine  eyes  be  out  I  will  be  told 
How  fast  the  tears  I  shed  for  you  do  fall, 
And  if  they  do  not  flow  abundantly, 
Tie  fetch  a  sigh  shall  make  'em  start,  and  leap, 
As  if  the  fire  were  under. 

Jac.     Fine  mocking,  fine  mocking. 

Fred.     Mocking  ?    look  how  she  weeps. 

Jac.     Do's  she  counterfeit  crying  too  ? 

Fred.     Behold  how  the  tears  flow,  or  pity  her 
Or  never  more  be  call'd  a  man.  (sible  think  you, 

Jac.  How's  this?  soft  you,  soft  you  my  Masters:  is't  pos- 
She  should  be  in  earnest  ?  (sleeps, 

Clo.  Earnest  ?  I  in  earnest :  she's  a  fool  to  break  so  many 
That  would  have  been  sound  ones,  &  venture  such  a  fane,  and 
So  much  life,  for  e're  an  humorous  asse  i'th'  world. 

Fra.     Why  Clora  ?    I  have  known  you  cry  as  much 
For  Ju/toy  that  has  not  half  his  worth, 
All  night  you  write  and  weep  too  much  I  fear, 
I  do  but  what  I  should. 

Clora.     If  I  do  write, 
I  am  answer'd  Frank. 

Fran.     I  would  I  might  be  so. 

Jac.      Good  Frederick  let  me  go,  I  would  fain  try 
If  that  thing  do  not  counterfeit. 

Fred.     Give  me  your  Sword  then. 


?ac.     No,  but  take  my  word, 
an 


As  I  am  man,  I  will  not  hurt  a  creature 
Under  this  roof,  before  I  have  deliver'd 
My  self,  as  I  am  now,  into  your  hands, 
Or  have  your  full  consent. 

Fred.     It  is  enough. 

Ja.    Gentlewoman,  I  pray  you  let  me  feel  your  face ;  I  am  an 


THE   CAPTAIN  ACT  v 

Infidel,  if  she  do  not  weep  :   Stay,  where's  my  handkerchief? 
Fie  wipe  the  old  wet  off,  fresh  tears  come,  pox  on't 
I  am  a  handsom,  gracious  fellow  amongst  women,  and     (are 
Knew't  not  Gentlewoman  ;    how  should  I  know  these  tears 
For  me  ?    is  not  your  Mother  dead  ? 

Fran.     By  heaven  they  are  for  you.  (morrow 

Jac.     'Slight  I'le  have  my  head   curl'd,  and   powder'd  to 
By  break  of  day  ;    if  you  love  me,  I  pray  you  kiss  me, 
For  if  I  love  you,  it  shall  be  such  love,  as  I  will  not  be 
Asham'd  of,  if  this  be  a  mock —  [kisses. 

It  is  the  heartiest,  and  the  sweetest  mock 
That  e're  I  tasted,  mock  me  so  again —  [kiss  again. 

Fred.     Fy  Jacomo  ?   why  do  you  let  her  kneel 
So  long? 

Jac.     It's  true  I  had  forgot  it —  [lifts  her  up. 

And  should  have  done  this  twelve-moneth  ;    pray  you  rise. 
Frederick,  if  I  could  all  this  while  have  been  perswaded  she  could 
Have  lov'd  me,  dost  thou  think  I  had  not  rather  kiss  her 
Than  another  should  ?   and  yet  you  may  gull  me  for  ought 
I  know,  but  if  you  do,  hell  take  me  if  I  do  not  cut 
All  your  throats  sleeping. 

Fred.     Oh  do  not  think  of  such  a  thing. 

Jac.     Otherwise,  if  she  be  in  earnest,  the  short  is  I  am. 

Fran.     Alas,  I  am. 

Jac.     And  I  did  not  think  it  possible  any  woman 
Could  have  lik'd  this  face,  it's  good  for  nothing,  is't  ? 

Clor.     Yes  it's  worth  forty  shillings  to  pawn,  being  lin'd 
Through  with  velvet.  (almost  quite 

Fran.     'Tis  better  than  your  Julio's. 

Jac.     Thou  thinkest  so, 

But  otherwise,    in    faith    it   is  not  Frank — [whilst  Jacomo  is 

kissing  Frank. 

Enter  Fabritio. 

Fab.     Hist  Jacomo  ;    How  do'st  thou  Boy  ?   ha  ? 
Jac.     Why  very  well,  I  thank  you  Sir.  (sages 

Fab.     Do'st  thou  perceive  the  reason  of  matters,  and  pas- 
Yet  Sirrah,  or  no  ? 

Jac.     'Tis  wondrous  good  Sir.  (to  some 

Fab.    I  have  done  simply  for  you,  but  now  you  are  beaten 

312 


Sc.  iv  THE   CAPTAIN 

Understanding,  J  pray  you  dally  not  with  the  Gentlewoman 
But  dispatch  your  Matrimony,  with  all  convenient  speed. 

Fred.     He  gives  good  counsel. 

Jac.     And  I  will  follow  it. 

Fab.     And  I  you,  prethee  do  not  take  it  unkindly, 
For  trust  me  I  boxt  thee  for  thy  advancement, 
A  foolish  desire  I  had  to  joggle  thee  into  preferment. 

Jac.     I  apprehend  you  Sir,  and  if  I  can  study  out  a  course 
How  a  bastinadoing  may  any  wayes  raise  your  fortunes 
In  the  State,  you  shall  be  sure  on't. 

Fab.     Oh  Sir  keep  your  way,  God  send  you  much  joy. 

Clora.     And  me  my  Julio. 

O  God  I  hear  his  voyce,  now  he  is  true,  (but  Fred. 

Have  at  a  marriage  Frank^  as  soon  as  you —          [Exeunt  all 

Enter  a  Messenger. 

Mess.     Sir  I  would  speak  with  you. 

Fred.     What  is  your  has[t]y  business  friend  ?         (Court. 

Mess.     The  Duke  commands  your  present  attendance  at 

Fred.     The  cause  ? 

Mess.     I  know  not  in  particular ;    but  this 
Many  are  sent  for  more,  about  affairs 
Forraign  I  take  it  Sir. 

Fred.     I  will  be  there 
Within  this  hour,  return  my  humble  service. 

Mess.     I  will  Sir.  [Exit  Messenger. 

Fred.     Farewel  friend,  what  new's  with  you  ? 

Enter  a  Servant. 

Ser.     My  Mistris  would  desire  you  Sir  to  follow 
With  all  the  hast  you  can,  she  is  gone  to  Church, 
To  marry  Captain  Jacomo,  and  Julio 
To  do  as  much  for  the  young  merry  Gentlewoman, 
Fair  Mistris  Clora. 

Fred.     Julio  marry  Clora  ? 
Thou  art  deceived  I  warrant  thee. 

Ser.     No  sure  Sir, 

I  saw  their  lips  as  close  upon  the  bargain 
As  Cockles. 

Fred.     Give  'em  joy,  I  cannot  now  go, 

313 


THE   CAPTAIN  ACT  v 

The  Duke  hath  sent  for  me  in  hast.  (where  they  are.  [Ex. 
Ser.  This  note  Sir,  when  you  are  free,  will  bring  you 
Fred,  reads.  You  shall  find  us  all  at  Signeur  Angela's, 

Where  Piso,  and  the  worthy  Leila 

Of  famous  memory  are  to  be  married, 

And  we  not  far  behind. 

Would  I  had  time 

To  wonder  at  this  last  couple  in  hell. 

Enter  Messenger  again. 

Mess.     You  are  stai'd  for  Sir. 
Fred.     I  come,  pray  God  the  business 
Hold  me  not  from  this  sport,  I  would  not  lose  it.  [Exeunt. 

SCENE  V. 

Enter  Father,  Piso,  Angelo,  and  Lelia. 

Ang.     God  give  you  joy,  and  make  you  live  together 
A  happy  pair. 

Piso.     I  do  not  doubt  we  shall. 

There  was  never  poor  gentleman  had  such  a  sudden  fortune, 
I  could  thrust  my  head  betwixt  two  pales,  and  strip  me  out  of 
My  old  skin  like  a  Snake  :  will  the  guests  come  thou  saidst 
Thou  sentest  for  to  solemnize  the  Nuptials  ? 

Fatb.     They  will,  I  lookt  for  'em  e're  this. 

Enter  Julio,  Jacomo,  Fabritio,  Frank,  Clora. 

Jut.     By  your  leave  all. 

Fatb.     They're  here  Sir. 

Jul.     Especially  fair  Lady 
I  ask  your  pardon,  to  whose  marriage-bed 
I  wish  all  good  success,  I  have  here  brought  you 
Such  guests  as  can  discern  your  happiness, 
And  best  do  know  how  to  rejoyce  at  it; 
For  such  a  fortune  they  themselves  have  run, 
The  worthy  Jacomo,  and  his  fair  Bride, 
Noble  Fabritio,  whom  this  age  of  peace 
Has  not  yet  taught  to  love  ought  but  the  warrs, 
And  his  true  friends,  this  Lady  who  is  but 
A  piece  of  me.  [Exit  Father. 

3H 


Sc.  v  THE   CAPTAIN 

Leli.     Sir,  you  are  welcom  all, 
Are  they  not  Sir  ?  (fool 

Piso.  Bring  in  some  wine,  some  of  the  wine  Lodowick  the 
Sent  hither  :  who  ever  thou  bid'st  welcom  shall  find  it. 

Leli.     An  une[x]pe6led  honour  you  have  done 
To  our  too  hasty  wedding. 

Jac.  Faith  Madam,  our  weddings  were  as  hasty  as  yours, 
We  are  glad  to  run  up  and  down  any  whither,  to  see  where 
We  can  get  meat  to  our  wedding. 

Ptso.     That  Lodowick  hath  provided  too,  good  Asse. 

Ang.  I  thought  you  Julio  would  not  thus  have  stollen  a 
Without  acquainting  your  friends.  (marriage 

Jul.     Why  I  did  give  thee  inklings.  (e're  almost 

Ang.  If  a  marriage  should  be  thus  stubber'd  up  in  a  play, 
Any  body  had  taken  notice  you  were  in  love,  the  Spectators 
Would  take  it  to  be  but  ridiculous. 

Jul.     This  was  the  first,  and  I  will  never  hide 
Another  secret  from  you. 

Enter  Father. 

Path.  Sir,  yonder's  your  friend  Lodowick^  hide  your  self 
And  'twill  be  the  best  sport — 

Piso.     Gentlemen,  I  pray  you  take  no  notice,  I'm  here. 
The  coxcomb  Lodowick  is  coming  in. 

Enter  Lodowick. 

Lod.     Is  that  the  Lady  ? 

Path.     That  is  my  Lady. 

Lod.     As  I  live  she's  a  fair  one  ;  what  make  all  these  here  ? 

Path.     O  Lord  Sir  she  is  so  pester'd — 

Fab.     Now  will  the  sport  be,  it  runs  right  as  Julio  told  us. 

Lod.     Fair  Lady  health  to  you  ;  some  words  I  have,  that 
Require  an  utterance  more  private, 
Than  this  place  can  afford. 

Lei.     I'le  call  my  husband, 
All  business  I  hear  with  his  ears  now. 

Lod.     Good  Madam  no,  but  I  perceive  your  jest, 
You  have  no  husband,  I  am  the  very  man 
That  walk'd  the  streets  so  comely. 

Lei.     Are  you  so  ? 


THE    CAPTAIN  ACT  v 

Lod.     Yes  faith,  when  Cupid  first  did  prick  your  heart. 
I  am  not  cruel,  but  the  love  begun 
I'th*  street  Fie  satisfie  i'th'  chamber  fully. 

Lei.     To  ask  a  Madman  whether  he  be  mad 
Were  but  an  idle  question,  if  you  be, 
I  do  not  speak  to  you,  but  if  you  be  not 
Walk  in  the  streets  again,  and  there  perhaps 
I  may  dote  on  you,  here  I  not  endure  you. 

Lod.     Good  Madam  stay,  do  not  you  know  this  Ring  ? 

Lei.     Yes  it  was  mine,  I  sent  it  by  my  Man, 
To  change  and  so  he  did,  it  has  a  blemish, 
And  this  he  brought  me  for  it ;    did  you  change  it  ? 
Are  you  a  Goldsmith  ? 

Lod.     Sure  the  world  is  mad, 
Sirrah,  did  you  not  bring  me  this  ring  from  your  Lady  ? 

Path.    Yes  surely  Sir,  did  I,  but  your  worship  must  ev'n 

(bear  with  me  ; 

For  there  was  a  mistaking  in  it,  and  so,  as  I  was 
Saying  to  your  worship,  my  Lady  is  now  married. 

Lod.     Married  ?    to  whom  ? 

Fa.     To  your  worships  friend  Piso. 

Lod.     S 'death  to  PI  so  ? 

Piso  within.     Ha,  ha,  ha. 

Ang.  Yes  Sir  I  can  assure  you  she's  married  to  him,  I  saw't 
With  these  gray  eyes. 

Lod.  Why  what  a  Rogue  art  thou  then  !  thou  hast  made 
Me  send  in  provision  too.  (in's  mouth. 

Fa.  O  a  Gentleman  should  not  have  such  foul  words 
But  your  Worships  provision  could  not  have  come  in  at  a  fitter 
Will  it  please  you  to  tast  any  of  your  own  wine  ?  (time ; 
It  may  be  the  Vintner  has  cozen'd  you. 

Lod.     Pox  I  am  mad. 

Ang.    You  have  always  plots  Sir,  and  see  how  they  fall  out. 

Jac.     You  had  a  plot  upon  me,  how  do  you  like  this  ? 

Lod.     I  do  not  speak  to  you. 

Fab.     Because  you  dare  not.  (this  Ring. 

Lod.     But  I  will  have  one  of  that  old  Rogues  teeth  set  in 

Fat.     Do'st  not  thou  know  that  I  can  beat  thee  ? 
Dost  thou  know  it  now  ?   (discovers  himself.) 

Lod.     He  beat  me  once  indeed. 

316 


Sc.  v  THE   CAPTAIN 

Fat.     And  if  you  have  forgot  it,  I  can  call  a  witness, 
Come  forth  Piso — remember  you  it  ? 

Piso.     Faith  I  do  call  to  minde  such  a  matter. 

Fat.     And  if  I  cannot  still  do't,  you  are  young 
And  will  assist  your  Father  in  law. 

Piso.     My  Father  in  law  ? 

Ang.    Your  Father  in  law,  as  sure  as  this  is  widow  Leila. 

Piso.     How  widow  Lelia  ? 

Fat.     F  faith  'tis  she,  Son. 

Lod.     Ha,  ha,  ha,  let  my  provision  go,  I  am  glad  I 
Have  mist  the  woman. 

Piso.     Have  you  put  a  whore  upon  me  ? 

Lei.     By  heaven  you  do  me  wrong,  I  have  a  heart 
As  pure  as  any  womans,  and  I  mean 
To  keep  it  so  for  ever. 

Fa.     There  is  no  starting  now,  Son,  if  you  offer't 
I  can  compel  you,  her  estate  is  great, 
But  all  made  o're  to  me,  before  this  match, 
Yet  if  you  use  her  kindly,  as  I  swear 
I  think  she  will  deserve,  you  shall  enjoy  it 
During  your  life,  all  save  some  slender  piece 
I  will  reserve  for  my  own  maintenance, 
And  if  God  bless  you  with  a  child  by  her, 
It  shall  have  all. 

Piso.     So  I  may  have  the  means, 
I  do  not  much  care  what  the  woman  is  : 
Come  my  sweet  heart,  as  long  as  I  shall  find 
Thy  kisses  sweet,  and  thy  means  plentiful!, 
Let  people  talk  their  tongues  out. 

Lei.     They  may  talk 
Of  what  is  past,  but  all  that  is  to  come 
Shall  be  without  occasions. 

yul.     Shall  we  not  make  Pisa,  and  Lodowick  friends  ? 

Jac.     Hang  'em  they  dare  not  be  Enemies,  or  if  they  be, 
The  danger  is  not  great,  welcom  Frederick. 

Enter  Frederick. 

Fred.     First  joy  unto  you  all ;   and  next  I  think 
We  shall  have  wars. 

Jac.     Give  me  some  wine,  Tie  drink  to  that. 

317 


THE   CAPTAIN  ACT  v 

Fab.     Pie  pledge. 

Fran.     But  I  shall  lose  you  then.  (a  Souldier. 

Jac.     Not  a  whit  wench  ;   I'le  teach  thee  presently  to  be 

Fred.     Fabrics  command,  and  yours  are  both  restor'd. 

Jac.     Bring  me  four  glasses  then. 

Fab.     Where  are  they  ? 

Ang.     You  shall  not  drink  'em  here,  'tis  supper  time, 
And  from  my  house  no  creature  here  shall  stir 
These  three  dayes,  mirth  shall  flow  as  well  as  wine. 

Fa.     Content,  within  I'le  tell  you  more  at  large 
How  much  I  am  bound  to  all,  but  most  to  you, 
Whose  undeserved  liberality 
Must  not  escape  thus  unrequited. 

Jac.     'Tis  happiness  to  me,  I  did  so  well  : 
Of  every  noble  a6tion,  the  intent 
Is  to  give  worth  reward,  vice,  punishment. 

[Exeunt  Om. 


Prologue. 

TO  please  you  with  this  Play,  we  fear  will  be 
(So  does  the  Author  too)  a  mystery 
Somewhat  above  our  Art ;    For  all  mens  eyes, 
Ears,  faiths,  and  judgements,  are  not  of  one  size. 
For  to  say  truth,  and  not  to  flatter  ye, 
This  is  nor  Comedy,  nor  Tragedy, 
Nor  History,  nor  any  thing  that  may 
(Tet  in  a  week)  be  made  a  perfect  Play  : 
Yet  those  that  love  to  laugh,  and  those  that  think 
Twelve  pence  goes  farther  this  way  than  in  drink, 
Or  Damsels,  if  they  mark  the  matter  through, 
May  stumble  on  a  foolish  toy,  or  two 
Will  make  'em  shew  their  teeth  :  pray,  for  my  sake 
(That  likely  am  your  first  man)  do  not  take 

318 


THE    CAPTAIN 

A  distaste  before  you  feel  It :  for  ye  may 
When  this  is  hist  to  ashes,  have  a  Play. 
And  here,  to  out-hiss  this  ;    be  patient  then, 
(My  honour  done)  y'are  welcom  Gentlemen. 


Epilogue. 

IF  you  mislike  (as  you  shall  ever  be 
Tour  own  free  Judges)  this  Play  utterly. 
For  your  own  Nobleness  yet  do  not  hiss, 
But  as  you  go  by,  say  it  was  amiss  ; 
And  we  will  mend :    Chide  us,  but  let  it  be 
Never  in  cold  blood :    0'  my  honesty 
(If  I  have  any)  this  Pie  say  for  all, 
Our  meaning  was  to  please  you  still,  and  shall. 


3'9 


THE 

PROPHETESS. 

A 

Tragical    History. 

Persons  Represented  in  the  Play. 


Charinus,  Emperour  of  Rome. 

Cosroe,  King  of  Persia. 

Diodes,  of  a  private  Souldier  defied 

Co-Emperour. 
Maximinian,    Nephew  to   Diocles, 

and  Emperour  by  bis  donation. 
Volutius  Aper,  Murtherer  of  Nu- 

merianus,  the  late  Emperour. 
Niger,  a  noble  Souldier,  Servant  to 

the  Emperour. 
Camurius,  a  Captain,  and  Creature 

of  AperV. 
Persian  Lords. 
Senators. 
Souldiers. 
Guard. 
Suitors. 


Ambassadors. 
Liflors. 
Flamen. 
Attendants. 
Shepherd. 
Country-men. 

Geta,  a  Jester,  Servant  to  Diocles, 
a  merry  Knave. 

WOMEN. 

Aurelia,  Sister  to  Charinus. 
Cassana,  Sister  to  Cosroe,  a  Captive, 

ivaiting  on  Aurelia. 
Delphia,  a  Prophetess. 
Drusilla,  Niece  to  Delphia,  in  love 

with  Diocles. 


The  Scene  Rome. 


The  principal  Adors  were, 


John  Lowin. 
Robert  Benfield. 
John  Sbanke. 
Richard  Sharpe. 


Joseph  Taylor. 
Nicholas  Toolie. 
George  Birch. 
Thomas  Holcombe. 


320 


ACT  i  THE    PROPHETESS 

Aftus  Primus.     Scena  Prima. 

Enter  Charinus,  Aurelia,  Niger. 

Cha.     ^/"OU  buz  into  my  head  strange  likelihoods, 

J[     And  fill  me  full  of  doubts ;  but  what  proofs,  Niger ', 
What  certainties,  that  my  most  noble  Brother 
Game  to  his  end  by  murther  ?   Tell  me  that, 
Assure  me  by  some  circumstance. 

Niger.     I  will,  Sir, 

And  as  I  tell  you  truth,  so  the  gods  prosper  me, 
I  have  often  nam'd  this  Aper. 

Char.     True,  ye  have  done  ; 
And  in  mysterious  senses  I  have  heard  ye 
Break  out  o'th'  sudden,  and  abruptly. 

Niger.     True,  Sir ; 

Fear  of  your  unbelief,  and  the  times  giddiness 
Made  me  I  durst  not  then  go  farther.     So  your  Grace  please, 
Out  of  your  wonted  goodness,  to  give  credit, 
I  shall  unfold  the  wonder. 

Aur.     Do  it  boldly  ; 
You  shall  have  both  our  hearty  loves,  and  hearings. 

Niger.     This  Aper  then,  this  too  much  honour'd  Villain, 
(For  he  deserves  no  mention  of  a  good  man) 
Great  Sir,  give  ear ;    this  most  ungrateful,  spightful, 
Above  the  memory  of  mankind,  mischievous, 
With  his  own  bloody  hands. 

Char.     Take  heed. 

Nig.     I  am  in,  Sir ; 
And  if  I  make  not  good  my  story. 

Aur.     Forward ; 
I  see  a  truth  would  break  out ;    be  not  fearful. 

Nig.     I  say  this  Aper^  and  his  damn'd  Ambition, 
Cut  off  your  Brothers  hopes,  his  life,  and  fortunes ; 
The  honour'd  Numerianus  fell  by  him, 
Fell  basely,  most  untimely,  and  most  treacherously  : 
For  in  his  Litter,  as  he  bore  him  company, 
Most  privately  and  cunningly  he  kill'd  him  ; 
Yet  still  he  fills  the  faithful  Souldiers  ears 
With  stories  of  his  weakness,  of  his  life, 

B.-F.  v.  x  321 


THE    PROPHETESS  ACT  i 

That  he  dare  not  venture  to  appear  in  open, 
And  shew  his  warlike  face  among  the  Souldiers  ; 
The  tenderness  and  weakness  of  his  eyes 
Being  not  able  to  endure  the  Sun  yet. 
Slave  that  he  is,  he  gives  out  this  infirmity 
(Because  he  would  dispatch  his  honour  too) 
To  arise  from  wantonness,  and  love  of  women, 
And  thus  he  juggles  still. 

Aur.     O  most  pernicious, 

Most  bloody,  and  most  base  !     Alas,  dear  Brother, 
Art  thou  accus'd,  and  after  death  thy  memory 
Loaden  with  shames  and  lies  ?     Those  pious  tears 
Thou  daily  shower'st  upon  my  Fathers  monument, 
(When  in  the  Persian  Expedition 
He  fell  unfortunately  by  a  stroke  of  Thunder) 
Made  thy  defame  and  sins  ?    those  wept  out  eyes, 
The  fair  examples  of  a  noble  nature, 
Those  holy  drops  of  Love,  turn'd  by  depravers 
(Malicious  poyson'd  tongues)  to  thy  abuses  ? 
We  must  not  suffer  this. 

Char.     It  shows  a  truth  now  ; 
And  sure  this  Aper  is  not  right  nor  honest, 
He  will  not  [now]  come  near  me. 

Nig.     No,  he  dare  not ; 

He  has  an  inmate  here,  that's  call'd  a  conscience, 
Bids  him  keep  off. 

Char.     My  Brother  honour'd  him, 

Made  him  first  Captain  of  his  Guard,  his  next  friend  ; 
Then  to  my  Mother  (to  assure  him  nearer) 
He  made  him  Husband. 

Nig.     And  withal  ambitious  ; 

For  when  he  trod  so  nigh,  his  false  feet  itch'd,  Sir, 
To  step  into  the  State. 

Aur.     If  ye  believe,  Brother, 
Aper  a  bloody  Knave  (as  'tis  apparent) 
Let's  leave  disputing,  and  do  something  noble. 

Char.     Sister,  be  rul'd,  I  am  not  yet  so  powerful 
To  meet  him  in  the  field  ;    he  has  under  him 
The  Flower  of  all  the  Empire,  and  the  strength, 
The  Britain^  and  the  German  Cohorts ;    pray  ye  be  patient, 

322 


I 


Sc.  ii  THE    PROPHETESS 

Niger^  how  stands  the  Souldier  to  him  ? 

Nig.     In  fear  more,  Sir, 

Than  love  or  honour ;    he  has  lost  their  fair  affedlions, 
By  his  most  covetous  and  greedy  griping : 
Are  ye  desirous  to  do  something  on  him, 
That  all  the  World  may  know  ye  lov'd  your  Brother  ? 
And  do  it  safely  too  without  an  Army  ? 

Char.     Most  willingly. 

Nig.     Then  send  out  a  Proscription, 
Send  suddenly ;    And  to  that  man  that  executes  it 
(I  mean,  that  brings  his  head)  add  a  fair  payment, 
No  common  Summ  ;    then  ye  shall  see  I  fear  not, 
Even  from  his  own  Camp,  from  those  men  that  follow  him, 
Follow,  and  flatter  him,  we  shall  find  one, 
And  if  he  miss,  one  hundred  that  will  venture  it. 

Aur.     For  his  reward,  it  shall  be  so,  dear  Brother, 
So  far  I'll  honour  him  that  kills  the  Villain  ; 
For  so  far  runs  my  love  to  my  dead  Brother, 
Let  him  be  what  he  will,  base,  old,  or  crooked, 
He  shall  have  me ;    nay,  which  is  more,  I'll  love  him. 
I  will  not  be  deny'd. 

Char.     You  shall  not,  Sister  ; 
But  ye  shall  know,  my  love  shall  go  along  too ; 
See  a  Proscription  drawn  ;    and  for  his  recompence, 
My  Sister,  and  half  Partner  in  the  Empire  ; 
And  I  will  keep  my  word. 

Aur.     Now  ye  do  bravely. 

Nig.     And  though  it  cost  my  life,  I'll,  see  it  publish'd. 

Char.     Away  then  for  the  business. 

Nig.     I  am  gone,  Sir ; 
You  shall  have  all  dispatch'd  to  night. 

Char.     Be  prosperous. 

Aur.     And  let  the  Villain  fall. 

Nig.     Fear  nothing,  Madam.  [Exeunt. 

SCENE   II. 

Enter  Delphia,  and  Drusilla. 

Dru.     'Tis  true,  that  Diodes  is  courteous, 
And  of  a  pleasant  nature,  sweet  and  temperate ; 

X2  323 


THE   PROPHETESS  ACT  i 

His  Cousin  Maximinian  proud  and  bloudy. 

Delph.     Yes,  and  mistrustful  too,  my  Girl,  take  heed, 
Although  he  seem  to  love  thee,  and  affect 
Like  the  more  Courtier,  curious  complement ; 
Yet  have  a  care. 

Dru.     You  know  all  my  affedlion, 
And  all  my  heart-desires  are  set  on  Diodes ; 
But,  Aunt,  how  coldly  he  requites  this  courtesie  ! 
How  dull  and  heavily  he  looks  upon  me  ! 
Although  I  woo  him  sometimes  beyond  modesty, 
Beyond  a  Virgins  care  ;    how  still  he  slights  me, 
And  puts  me  still  off  with  your  Prophecy, 
And  the  performance  of  your  late  prediction, 
That  when  he  is  Emperour,  then  he  will  marry  me  ; 
Alas,  what  hope  of  that  ? 

Del.     Peace,  and  be  patient, 
For  though  he  be  now  a  man  most  miserable, 
Of  no  rank,  nor  no  badge  of  honour  on  him, 
Bred  low  and  poor,  no  eye  of  favour  shining  ; 
And  though  my  sure  Prediction  of  his  Rising 
(Which  can  no  more  fail  than  the  day  or  night  does, 
Kay,  let  him  be  asleep,  will  overtake  him) 
Hath  found  some  rubs  and  stops,  yet  hear  me,  Neece, 
And  hear  me  with  a  faith,  it  shall  come  to  him  ; 
I'll  tell  thee  the  occasion. 

Dru.     Do,  good  Aunt ; 
For  yet  I  am  ignorant. 

Del.     Chiding  him  one  day 
For  being  too  near,  and  sparing  for  a  Souldier, 
Too  griping,  and  too  greedy  ;    he  made  answer, 
When  I  am  Ctesar,  then  I  will  be  liberal. 
I,  presently  inspired  with  holy  fire, 
And  my  prophetick  Spirit  burning  in  me, 
Gave  answer  from  the  gods,  and  this  it  was, 
Imperator  eris  Romtey  cum  Aprum  grandem  interfeceris : 
Thou  shalt  be  Emperour,  O  Diodes, 
When  thou  hast  kill'd  a  mighty  Boar.     From  that  time 
(As  giving  credit  to  my  words)  he  has  employ' d 
Much  of  his  life  in  hunting ;    many  Boars 
Hideous  and  fierce,  with  his  own  hands  he  has  kill'd  too, 

324 


Sc.  in  THE   PROPHETESS 

But  yet  not  lighted  on  the  fatal  one, 

Should  raise  him  to  the  Empire ;    Be  not  sad,  Neece, 

E're  long  he  shall ;    Come,  let's  go  entertain  him, 

For  by  this  time  I  guess  he  comes  from  hunting  ; 

And  by  my  Art  I  find  this  very  instant 

Some  great  design's  o'  foot. 

Dru.     The  gods  give  good,  Aunt.  [Exeunt. 

SCENE   III. 

Enter  Diocles,  Maximinian,  Geta,  with  a  Boar. 

Dio.     Lay  down  the  Boar. 

Get.     With  all  my  heart  ;    I  am  weary  on't ; 
I  shall  turn  Jew  if  I  carry  many  such  burthens  : 
Do  you  think,  Master,  to  be  Emperour 
With  killing  Swine  ?    you  may  be  an  honest  Butcher, 
Or  allied  to  a  seemly  family  of  sowse-wives. 
Can  you  be  such  an  Ass,  my  Reverend  Master, 
To  think  these  springs  of  Pork  will  shoot  up  Ceesars  ? 

Max.     The  fool  says  true. 

Dio.     Come,  leave  your  fooling,  Sirrah, 
And  think  of  what  thou  shalt  be  when  I  am  Emperour. 

Get.     Would  it  would  come  with  thinking,  for  then  o'  my 
I  should  be  at  least  a  Senator.  (conscience, 

Max.     A  Sowter  ; 

For  that's  a  place  more  fitted  to  thy  nature, 
If  there  could  be  such  an  expectation  ; 
Or  say,  the  Devil  could  perform  this  wonder  ; 
Can  such  a  Rascal  as  thou  art,  hope  for  honour  ? 
Such  a  log-carrying  Lowt  ? 

Get.     Yes,  and  bear  it  too, 

And  bear  it  swimmingly.     I  am  not  the  first  Ass,  Sir, 
Has  born  good  office,  and  perform'd  it  reverendly.     (a  Senator  ? 

Dio.     Thou  being  the  Son  of  a  Tiler,  canst  thou  hope  to  be 

Get.     Thou  being  the  Son  of  a  Tanner,  canst  thou  hope  to 

(be  an  Emperor  ? 

Dio.     Thou  sayst  true,  Getay  there's  a  stop  indeed  ; 
But  yet  the  bold  and  vertuous — 

Get.     Ye  are  right,  Master, 
Right  as  a  Gun  ;    For  we  the  vertuous, 

325 


THE   PROPHETESS  ACT  i 

Though  we  be  Kennel-rakers,  Scabs,  and  Scoundrels, 
We  the  discreet  and  bold  ;    and  yet,  now  I  remember  it, 
We  Tilers  may  deserve  to  be  Senators  ; 
And  there  we  step  before  you  thick-skin'd  Tanners, 
For  we  are  born  three  stories  high  ;    no  base  ones, 
None  of  your  groundlings,  master. 

Dio.     I  like  thee  well, 
Thou  hast  a  good  mind,  as  I  have,  to  this  Honour. 

Get.     As  good  a  mind,  Sir,  of  a  simple  plaisterer — 
And  when  I  come  to  execute  my  office, 
Then  you  shall  see. 

Max.     What  ? 

Get.     An  Officer  in  fury  ; 

An  Officer  as  he  ought  to  be ;    do  you  laugh  at  it  ? 
Is  a  Senator  (in  hope)  worth  no  more  reverence  ? 
By  these  hands  I'll  clap  you  by  th'  heels  the  first  hour  of  it. 

Max.     O'  my  Conscience,  the  fellow  believes. 

Dio.     I,  do,  do,  Geta, 
For  if  I  once  be  Emperour — 

Get.     Then  will  I 

(For  wise  men  must  be  had  to  prop  the  Republick) 
Not  bate  ye  a  single  ace  of  a  sound  Senator. 

Dio.     But  what  shall  we  do  the  whilst  ? 

Get.     Kill  Swine,  and  sowse  'em, 
And  eat  *em  when  we  have  bread. 

Max.     Why  didst  thou  run  away 
When  the  Boar  made  toward  thee  ?   art  thou  not  valiant  ? 

Get.     No  indeed  am  I  not ;   and  'tis  for  mine  honour  too ; 
I  took  a  Tree,  'tis  true,  gave  way  to  the  Monster  ; 
Hark  what  discretion  says,  let  fury  pass ; 
From  the  tooth  of  a  mad  Beast,  and  the  tongue  of  a  Slanderer 
Preserve  thine  honour. 

Dio.     He  talks  like  a  full  Senator  : 
Go,  take  it  up,  and  carry  it  in,  'tis  a  huge  one, 
We  never  kill'd  so  large  a  Swine,  so  fierce  too, 
I  never  met  with  yet. 

Max.     Take  heed,  it  stirs  again  ; 
How  nimbly  the  Rogue  runs  up  !   he  climbs  like  a  Squirrel. 

Dio.     Come  down,  ye  Dunce,  is  it  not  dead  ? 

Get.     I  know  not. 

326 


Sc.  in  THE   PROPHETESS 

Dio.     His  throat  is  cut,  and  his  bowels  out. 

Get.     That's  all  one, 

/  am  sure  his  teeth  are  in  ;    and  for  any  thing  I  know, 
He  may  have  Pigs  of  his  own  nature  in's  Belly. 

Dio.     Come,  take  him  up  I  say,  and  see  him  drest, 
He  is  fat,  and  will  be  lusty  meat :    away  with  him, 
And  get  some  of  him  ready  for  our  Dinner. 

Get.     Shall  he  be  roasted  whole, 
And  serv'd  up  in  a  souce-tub  ?   a  portly  service, 
I'll  run  i'th'  wheel  my  self. 

Max.     Sirrah,  leave  your  prating, 
And  get  some  piece  of  him  ready  presently, 
We  are  weary  both,  and  hungry. 

Get.     I'll  about  it. 
What  an  inundation  of  Brewiss  shall  I  swim  in  !  [Exit. 

Dio.     Thou  art  ever  dull  and  melancholy,  Cousin, 
Distrustful  of  my  hopes. 

Max.     Why,  can  you  blame  me  ? 
Do  men  give  credit  to  a  Jugler  ? 

Dio.     Thou  knowst  she  is  a  Prophetess. 

Max.     A  small  one, 
And  as  small  profit  to  be  hop'd  for  by  her. 

Dio.     Thou  art  the  strangest  man  ;   how  does  thy  hurt  ? 
The  Boar  came  near  you,  Sir. 

Max.     A  scratch,  a  scratch. 

Dio.     It  akes  and  troubles  thee,  and  that  makes  thee  angry. 

Max.     Not  at  the  pain,  but  at  the  practice,  Uncle, 
The  butcherly,  base  custom  of  our  lives  now  ; 
Had  a  brave  enemies  Sword  drawn  so  much  from  me, 
Or  danger  met  me  in  the  head  o'th'  Army, 
To  have  blush'd  thus  in  my  blood,  had  been  mine  honour. 
But  to  live  base,  like  Swine-herds,  and  believe  too, 
To  be  fool'd  out  with  tales,  and  old  wives  dreams, 
Dreams,  when  they  are  drunk. 

Dio.     Certain  you  much  mistake  her. 

Max.     Mistake  her  ?  hang  her ;  to  be  made  her  Purveyors, 
To  feed  her  old  Chaps  ;   to  provide  her  daily, 
And  bring  in  Feasts  while  she  sits  farting  at  us, 
And  blowing  out  her  Prophecies  at  both  ends. 

Dio.     Prithee  be  wise  j    Dost  thou  think,  Maximinian, 


THE    PROPHETESS  ACT  i 

So  great  a  reverence,  and  so  stai'd  a  knowledge — 

Max.     Sur-reverence,  you  would  say ;  what  truth  ?  what 
What  any  thing  but  eating  is  good  in  her?          (knowledg? 
'Twould  make  a  fool  prophesie  to  be  fed  continually  ; 
What  do  you  get  ?   your  labour  and  your  danger  ; 
Whilst  she  sits  bathing  in  her  larded  fury, 
Inspired  with  full  deep  Cups,  who  cannot  prophesie  ? 
A  Tinker,  out  of  Ale,  will  give  Predictions  ; 
But  who  believes  ? 

Dio.     She  is  a  holy  Druid^ 
A  woman  noted  for  that  faith,  that  piety, 
Belov'd  of  Heaven. 

Max.     Heaven  knows,  I  do  not  believe  it : 
Indeed  I  must  confess  they  are  excellent  Juglers  ; 
Their  age  upon  some  fools  too  flings  a  confidence  : 
But  what  grounds  have  they  ?    what  elements  to  work  on  : 
Show  me  but  that ;    the  Sieve,  and  Sheers  ?    a  learned  one, 
I  have  no  patience  to  dispute  this  Question, 
'Tis  so  ridiculous  ;    I  think  the  Devil  does  help  'em, 
Or  (rather  mark  me  well)  abuse  'em,  Uncle  ; 
For  they  are  as  fit  to  deal  with  him  ;    these  old  women, 
They  are  as  jump,  and  squar'd  out  to  his  nature — 

Dio.     Thou  hast  a  perfect  malice. 

Max.     So  I  would  have 

Against  these  purblind  Prophets  ;    for  look  ye,  Sir, 
Old  women  will  lie  monstrously  j    so  will  the  Devil, 
Or  else  he  has  had  much  wrong ;    upon  my  knowledge, 
Old  women  are  malicious  ;    so  is  he  ; 
They  are  proud  and  covetous,  revengeful,  lecherous ; 
All  which  are  excellent  attributes  of  the  Devil ; 
They  would  at  least  seem  holy  ;    so  would  he ; 
And  to  vail  over  these  villainies,  they  would  prophesie ; 
He  gives  them  leave  now  and  then  to  use  their  cunnings, 
Which  is,  to  kill  a  Cow,  or  blast  a  Harvest, 
Make  young  Pigs  pipe  themselves  to  death,  choak  poultry, 
And  chase  a  dairy-wench  into  a  feaver 
With  pumping  for  her  butter. 

But  when  he  makes  these  Agents  to  raise  Emperours, 
When  he  disposes  Fortune  as  his  Servant, 
And  tyes  her  to  old  wives  tails — 

328 


Sc.  HI  THE   PROPHETESS 

Dio.     Go  thy  ways, 

Thou  art  a  learned  Scholar,  against  credit, 
You  hear  the  Prophecie  ? 

Max.     Yes,  and  I  laugh  at  it ; 
And  so  will  any  man  can  tell  but  twenty, 
That  is  not  blind,  as  you  are  blind  and  ignorant : 
Do  you  think  she  knows  your  fortune  ? 

Dio.     I  do  think  it. 

Max.     I  know  she  has  the  name  of  a  rare  Sooth-sayer ; 
But  do  you  in  your  Conscience  believe  her  holy  ? 
Inspired  with  such  prophetick  Fire  ? 

Dio.     Yes,  in  my  conscience. 

Max.     And  that  you  must  upon  necessity, 
From  her  words,  be  a  Caesar  ? 

Dio.     If  I  live. 

Max.     There's  one  stop  yet. 

Dio.     And  follow  her  directions. 

Max.     But  do  not  juggle  with  me. 

Dio.     In  faith,  Cousin, 

So  full  a  truth  hangs  ever  on  her  Prophecies, 
That  how  I  should  think  otherwise. 

Max.     Very  well,  Sir  ; 

You  then  believe  (for  methinks  'tis  most  necessary) 
She  knows  her  own  Fate  ? 

Dio.     I  believe  it  certain. 

Max.     Dare  you  but  be  so  wise  to  let  me  try  it, 
For  I  stand  doubtful. 

Dio.     How  ? 

Max.     Come  nearer  to  me, 

Because  her  cunning  Devil  shall  not  prevent  me  ; 
Close,  close,  and  hear ;    If  she  can  turn  this  destiny, 
I'll  be  of  your  faith  too. 

Dio.     Forward,  I  fear  not ; 
For  if  she  knows  not  this,  sure  she  knows  nothing ; 

Enter  Delphia. 

I  am  so  confident — 

Max.     'Faith,  so  am  I  too, 
That  I  shall  make  her  Devils  sides  hum. 

Dio.     She  comes  here  ; 

329 


THE    PROPHETESS  ACT  i 

Go  take  your  stand. 

Max.     Now  holly,  or  you  howl  for't.  [Exit. 

Dio.     'Tis  pity  this  young  man  should  be  so  stubborn. 
Valiant  he  is,  and  to  his  valour  temperate, 
Only  distrustful  of  delays  in  Fortune  ; 
I  love  him  dearly  well. 

Del.     Now,  my  Son  Diodes, 
Are  ye  not  weary  of  your  game  to  day  ? 
And  are  ye  well  ? 

Dio.     Yes,  Mother,  well  and  lusty, 
Only  ye  make  me  hunt  for  empty  shadows.  (day  : 

Del.     You  must  have  patience,  Rome  was  not  built  in  one 
And  he  that  hopes,  must  give  his  hopes  their  Currents. 
You  have  kill'd  a  mighty  Boar. 

Dio.     But  I  am  no  Emperour  : 
Why  do  you  fool  me  thus,  and  make  me  follow 
Your  flattering  expectation  hour  by  hour  ? 
Rise  early,  and  sleep  late  ?    to  feed  your  appetites, 
Forget  my  Trade,  my  Arms  ?    forsake  mine  honour, 
Labour  and  sweat  to  arrive  at  a  base  memory  ? 
Oppose  my  self  to  hazards  of  all  sorts, 
Only  to  win  the  barbarous  name  of  Butcher  ? 

Del.     Son,  you  are  wise. 

Dio.     But  you  are  cunning,  Mother  ; 
And  with  that  Cunning,  and  the  faith  I  give  you, 
Ye  lead  me  blindly  to  no  end,  no  honour  : 
You  find  ye  are  daily  fed,  you  take  no  labour  ; 
Your  family  at  ease,  they  know  no  market, 
And  therefore  to  maintain  this,  you  speak  darkly, 
As  darkly  still  ye  nourish  it,  whilst  I, 
Being  a  credulous  and  obsequious  Coxcomb, 
Hunt  daily,  and  sweat  hourly,  to  find  out 
To  clear  your  mystery  ;    kill  Boar  on  Boar, 
And  make  your  Spits  and  Pots  bow  with  my  Bounties ; 
Yet  I  still  poorer,  further  still — 

Del.     Be  provident, 

And  tempt  not  the  gods  dooms  ;    stop  not  the  glory 
They  are  ready  to  fix  on  ye.     Ye  are  a  fool  then  ; 
Chearful  and  grateful  takers,  the  gods  love, 
And  such  as  wait  their  pleasures  with  full  hopes  ; 

330 


Sc.  m  THE    PROPHETESS 

The  doubtful  and  distrustful  man  Heaven  frowns  at. 
What  I  have  told  you  by  my  inspiration, 
I  tell  ye  once  again,  must,  and  shall  find  ye. 

Dio.     But  when  ?   or  how  ? 

Del.     Cum  Aprum  interfeceris. 

Dio.     I  have  kill'd  many. 

Del.     Not  the  Boar  they  point  ye ; 
Nor  must  I  reveal  further,  till  you  clear  it. 
The  lots  of  glorious  men  are  wrapt  in  mysteries, 
And  so  delivered ;    common  and  slight  Creatures, 
That  have  their  ends  as  open  as  their  actions, 
Easie  and  open  fortunes  follow. 

Max.     I  shall  try 

How  deep  your  inspiration  lies  hid  in  ye, 
And  whether  your  brave  spirit  have  a  buckler 
To  keep  this  arrow  off,  I'll  make  you  smoke  else. 

Dw.     Knowing  my  fortune  so  precisely,  punctually, 
And  that  it  must  fall  without  contradiction, 
Being  a  stranger,  of  no  tye  unto  ye, 
Methinks  you  should  be  studied  in  your  own, 
In  your  own  destiny,  methinks,  most  perfect, 
And  every  hour,  and  every  minute,  Mother, 
So  great  a  care  should  Heaven  have  of  her  Ministers ; 
Methinks  your  fortunes  both  ways  should  appear  to  ye, 
Both  to  avoid  and  take.     Can  the  Stars  now, 
And  all  those  influences  you  receive  into  you, 
Or  secret  inspirations  ye  make  shew  of, 
If  an  hard  fortune  hung,  and  were  now  ready 
To  pour  it  self  upon  your  life,  deliver  ye  ? 
Can  they  now  say,  take  heed  ? 

Del.     Ha?   pray  ye  come  hither.  (ye, 

Max.     I  would  know  that ;   I  fear  your  Devil  will  cozen 
And  stand  as  close  as  ye  can,  I  shall  be  with  ye. 

Del.     I  find  a  present  ill. 

Dio.     How  ? 

Del.     But  I  scorn  it. 

Max.     Do  ye  so  ?   do  ye  so  ? 

Del.     Yes,  and  laugh  at  it,  Diodes. 
Is  it  not  strange  these  wild  and  foolish  men 
Should  dare  to  oppose  the  power  of  Destiny  ? 

331 


THE   PROPHETESS  ACT  i 

That  power  the  gods  shake  at  ?     Look  yonder,  Son. 

Max.     Have  ye  spy'd  me  ?   then  have  at  ye. 

Del.     Do,  shoot  boldly, 
Hit  me,  and  spare  not,  if  thou  canst. 

Dio.     Shoot,  Cousin. 

Max.     I  cannot ;    mine  arm's  dead,  I  have  no  feeling  ; 
Or  if  I  could  shoot,  so  strong  is  her  arm'd  Vertue, 
She  would  catch  the  arrow  flying. 

Del.     Poor  doubtful  people, 
I  pity  your  weak  faiths. 

Dio.     Your  mercy,  Mother, 
And  from  this  hour  a  Deity  I  crown  ye. 

Del.     No  more  of  that. 

Max.     O  let  my  Prayers  prevail  too, 
Here  like  a  tree,  I  dwell  else  ;    free  me,  Mother, 
And  greater  than  great  Fortune,  I'll  adore  thee. 

Del.     Be  free  again,  and  have  more  pure  thoughts  in  ye. 

Dio.     Now  I  believe  your  words  most  constantly, 
And  when  I  have  that  power  ye  have  promis'd  to  me. 

Del.     Remember  then  your  Vow,  my  Niece  Drusilla^ 
I  mean  to  marry  her,  and  then  ye  prosper. 

Dio.     I  shall  forget  my  life  else. 

Del.     I  am  a  poor  weak  woman,  to  me  no  worship. 

Enter  Niger,  Geta,  and  Souldiers. 

Get.     And  shall  he  have  as  you  say,  that  kills  this  Aper  ? 

Del.     Now  mark  and  understand. 

Nig.     The  Proscription's  up 

Pth'  Market  place,  'tis  up,  there  ye  may  read  it, 
He  shall  have  half  the  Empire. 

Get.     A  pretty  farm  i'  faith. 

Nig.     And  the  Emperours  Sister,  bright  Aurelia^ 
Her  to  his  wife. 

Get.     Ye  say  well,  Friend,  but  hark  ye, 
Who  shall  do  this  ? 

Nig.     You,  if  you  dare. 

Get.     I  think  so; 

Yet  I  could  poyson  him  in  a  Pot  of  Perry, 
He  loves  that  veng'ancely;    But  when  I  have  done  this, 
May  I  lye  with  the  Gentlewoman  ? 

332 


Sc.  in  THE    PROPHETESS 

Nig.     Lye  with  her  ?   what  else,  man  ? 

Get.     Yes,  man, 

I  have  known  a  man  married  that  never  lay  with  his  Wife : 
Those  dancing  days  are  done. 

Nig.     These  are  old  Souldiers, 
And  poor  it  seems,  I'll  try  their  appetites. 
'Save  ye,  brave  Souldiers. 

Max.     Sir,  ye  talkt  of  Proscriptions  ? 

Nig.     'Tis  true,  there  is  one  set  up  from  the  Emperour 
Against  folutius  Aper. 

Dio.     Aper  ? 

Del.     Now; 
Now  have  you  found  the  Boar  ? 

Dio.     I  have  the  meaning  ; 
And  blessed  Mother — 

Nig.     He  has  scorn'd  his  Master, 
And  bloodily  cut  off  by  treachery 
The  noble  Brother  to  him. 

Dio.     He  lives  here,  Sir, 
Sickly  and  weak. 

Nig.     Did  you  see  him  ? 

Max.     No. 

Nig.     He  is  murthered; 

So  ye  shall  find  it  mentioned  from  the  Emperour; 
And  honest  faithful  Souldiers,  but  believe  it; 
For,  by  the  gods,  ye  will  find  it  so,  he  is  murthered, 
The  manner  how,  read  in  the  large  Proscription. 

Del.     It  is  most  true,  Son;   and  he  cozens  ye, 
Aper's  a  Villain  false. 

Dio.     I  thank  ye,  Mother, 

And  dare  believe  ye ;    hark  ye,  Sir,  the  recompence  ? 
As  ye  related. 

Nig.     Is  as  firm  as  faith,  Sir; 
Bring  him  alive  or  dead. 

Max.     You  took  a  fit  time,  (not, 

The  General  being  out  o'  th'  Town ;  for  though  we  love  him 
Yet  had  he  known  this  first,  you  had  paid  for't  dearly. 

Dio.     'Tis  Niger ,  now  I  know  him;    honest  Niger •, 
A  true  sound  man,  and  I  believe  him  constantly; 
Your  business  may  be  done,  make  no  great  hurry 

333 


THE    PROPHETESS          ACT  n 

For  your  own  safety. 

Nig.     No,  I  am  gone;    I  thank  ye.  [Exit. 

Dio.     Pray,  Maximinian,  pray. 

Max.     I'll  pray,  and  work  too. 

Dio.     I'll  to  the  Market-place,  and  read  the  offer, 
And  now  I  have  found  the  Boar. 

Del.     Find  your  own  faith  too, 
And  remem[b]er  what  ye  have  vow'd. 

Dio.     O  Mother. 

Del.     Prosper. 

Get.     If  my  master  and  I  do  this,  there's  two  Emperours, 
And  what  a  show  will  that  make  !  how  we  shall  bounce  it  ! 

[Exeunt. 

Affius  Secundus.     Scena  Prima. 

Enter  Drusilla,  and  Delphia. 

Dru.    TEave  us,  and  not  vouchsafe  a  parting  kiss 

J j     To  her  that  in  his  hopes  of  greatness  lives, 

And  goes  along  with  him  in  all  his  dangers  ? 

Del.    I  grant  'twas  most  inhumane. 

Dru.     O,  you  give  it 

Too  mild  a  name;    'twas  more  than  barbarous, 
And  you  a  Partner  in't. 

Del.     I,   Drusilla  I 

Dru.     Yes, 

You  have  blown  his  swoln  Pride  to  that  vastness, 
As  he  believes  the  Earth  is  in  his  fathom, 
This  makes  him  quite  forget  his  humble  Being ; 
And  can  I  hope  that  he,  that  only  fed 
With  the  imagin'd  food  of  future  Empire, 
Disdains  even  those  that  gave  him  means  and  life 
To  nourish  such  desires,  when  he's  possess'd 
Of  his  ambitious  ends  (which  must  fall  on  him, 
Or  your  Predications  are  false)  will  ever 
Descend  to  look  on  me  ! 

Del.    Were  his  intents 
Perfidious  as  the  Seas  or  Winds,  his  heart 
Compos'd  of  falshood;   yet  the  benefit, 

334 


Sc.  i  THE    PROPHETESS 

The  greatness  of  the  good  he  has  from  you, 
(For  what  I  have  confer'd,  is  thine,  Drusilla) 
Must  make  him  firm,  and  thankful;    But  if  all 
Remembrance  of  the  debts  he  stands  engag'd  for, 
Find  a  quick  Grave  in  his  Ingratitude, 
My  powerful  Art,  that  guides  him  to  this  height 
Shall  make  him  curse  the  hour  he  e'r  was  rais'd, 
Or  sink  him  to  the  Centre. 

Dru.     I  had  rather 

Your  Art  could  force  him  to  return  that  ardour 
To  me,  I  bear  to  him;    or  give  me  power 
To  moderate  my  passions;    yet  I  know  not, 
I  should  repent  your  grant,  though  you  had  sign'd  it, 
(So  well  I  find  he's  worthy  of  all  service) 
But  to  believe  that  any  check  to  him 
In  his  main  hopes,  could  yield  content  to  me, 
Were  treason  to  true  love,  that  knows  no  pleasure, 
The  object  that  it  dotes  on  ill  affected. 

Del.     Pretty  simplicity;    I  love  thee  for't, 
And  will  not  sit  an  idle  looker  on, 
And  see  it  cozen'd;    dry  thy  innocent  eyes, 
And  cast  off  jealous  fears,  (yet  promises 
Are  but  lip  comfort)  and  but  fancy  ought 
That's  possible  in  Nature,  or  in  Art, 
That  may  advance  thy  comfort,  and  be  bold 
To  tell  thy  Soul  'tis  thine;    therefore  speak  freely. 

Dru.     You  new  create  me.     To  conceal  from  you 
My  virgin-fondness,  were  to  hide  my  sickness 
From  my  Physician.     O  dear  Aunt,  I  languish 
For  want  of  Diodes'*  sight;    he  is  the  Sun 
That  keeps  my  blood  in  a  perpetual  Spring; 
But  in  his  absence,  cold  benumming  Winter 
Seizes  on  all  my  faculties.     Would  you  bind  me 
(That  am  your  Slave  already)  in  more  fetters, 
And  (in  the  place  of  service)  to  adore  you  ? 

0  bear  me  then  (but  'tis  impossible, 

1  fear  to  be  effected)  where  I  may 

See  how  my  Diodes  breaks  thorow  his  dangers, 
And  in  what  heaps  his  honours  flow  upon  him, 
That  I  may  meet  him,  in  the  height  and  pride 

335 


THE   PROPHETESS  ACT  n 

Of  all  his  glories,  and  there  (as  your  gift) 
Challenge  him  as  mine  own. 

Del.     Enjoy  thy  wishes; 
This  is  an  easie  Boon,  which  at  thy  years, 
I  could  have  given  to  any;    but  now  grown 
Perfe6t  in  all  the  hidden  mysteries 
Of  that  inimitable  Art,  which  makes  us 
Equal  even  to  the  gods,  and  Natures  wonders, 
It  shall  be  done,  as  fits  my  skill  and  glory: 
To  break  thorow  bolts,  and  locks,  a  Scholars  prize 
For  Thieves,  and  Pick-locks:    to  pass  thorow  an  Army 
Cover'd  with  night,  or  some  disguise,  the  practice 
Of  poor  and  needy  Spies:    No,  my  Drusilla, 
From  Ceres  I  will  force  her  winged  Dragons, 
And  in  the  air  hung  over  the  Tribunal; 
(The  Musick  of  the  Spheres  attending  on  us.) 
There,  as  his  good  Star,  thou  shalt  shine  upon  him, 
If  he  prove  true,  and  as  his  Angel  guard  him. 
But  if  he  dare  be  false,  I,  in  a  moment 
Will  put  that  glorious  light  out,  with  such  horrour, 
As  if  the  eternal  Night  had  seiz'd  the  Sun, 
Or  all  things  were  returned  to  the  first  Chaos, 
And  then  appear  like  Furies. 

Dru.     I  will  do 
What  e're  you  shall  command. 

Del.     Rest  then  assur'd, 

I  am  the  Mistris  of  my  Art,  and  fear  not.  [Exeunt. 

[Soft  Musick. 

SCENE   II. 

Enter  Aper,  Camurius,  Guardy  a  Litter  covered. 

Aper.     Your  care  of  your  sick  Emperour,  fellow-souldiers, 
In  colours  to  the  life,  doth  shew  your  love, 
And  zealous  duty:    O  continue  in  it. 
And  though  I  know  you  long  to  see  and  hear  him, 
Impute  it  not  to  pride,  or  Melancholy, 
That  keeps  you  from  your  wishes:    such  State-vices 
(Too  too  familiar  with  great  Princes)  are 
Strangers  to  all  the  actions  of  the  life 

336 


Sc.  ii  THE   PROPHETESS 

Of  good  Numerianus'.    Let  your  patience 
Be  the  Physitian  to  his  wounded  eyes, 
(Wounded  with  pious  sorrow  for  his  Father) 
Which  time  and  your  strong  Patience  will  recover, 
Provided  it  prove  constant. 

1  Guard.     If  he  counterfeit, 

I  will  hereafter  trust  a  prodigal  heir, 
When  he  weeps  at  his  Fathers  Funeral. 

2  Guard.    Or  a  young  widow  following  a  bed-rid  husband, 
(After  a  three  years  groaning)  to  the  Fire. 

3  Guard.     Note  his  humility,  and  with  what  soft  murmurs 
He  does  enquire  his  pleasures. 

1  Guard.     And  how  soon 
He  is  instructed. 

2  Guard.     How  he  bows  again  too. 

Aper.     All  your  commands  (dread  Caesar)  I'll  impart 
To  your  most  ready  Souldier,  to  obey  them; 
So  take  your  rest  in  peace.     It  is  the  pleasure 
Of  mighty  C&sar  (his  thanks  still  remembred 
For  your  long  patience,  which  a  donative, 
Fitting  his  State  to  give,  shall  quickly  follow) 
That  you  continue  a  strict  Guard  upon 
His  sacred  person,  and  admit  no  stranger 
Of  any  other  Legion,  to  come  near  him; 
You  being  most  trusted  by  him.     I  receive 
Your  answer  in  your  silence.     Now,  Camurius, 
Speak  without  flattery;    Hath  thy  Aper  acted 
This  passion  to  the  life  ? 

Cam.     I  would  applaud  him, 
Were  he  saluted  Casar:    but  I  fear 
These  long^  protracted  counsels  will  undo  us; 
And  'tis  beyond  my  reason,  he  being  dead, 
You  should  conceal  your  self,  or  hope  it  can 
Continue  undiscovered. 

Aper.     That  I  have  kill'd  him, 
Yet  feed  these  ignorant  fools  with  hopes  he  lives, 
Has  a  main  end  in't.     The  Pannonian  Cohorts 
(That  are  my  own,  and  sure)  are  not  come  up, 
The  German  Legions  waver,  and  Charinus 
(Brother  to  this  dead  dog)  (hells  plagues  on  Niger) 

B.-F.  v.  Y  337 


THE    PROPHETESS  ACT  n 

Is  jealous  of  the  murther;   and,  I  hear, 

Is  marching  up  against  me.     'Tis  not  safe, 

Till  I  have  power,  to  justifie  the  Aft, 

To  shew  my  self  the  authour:    be  therefore  careful 

For  an  hour  or  two  (till  I  have  fully  sounded 

How  the  Tribunes  and  Centurio[n]s  stand  affected) 

That  none  come  near  the  Litter.     If  I  find  them 

Firm  on  my  part,  I  dare  profess  my  self, 

And  then  live  Aper's  equal. 

Cam.     Does  not  the  body 
Begin  to  putrifie  ? 

Aper.     That  exacts  my  haste  : 
When,  but  even  now,  I  feign'd  obedience  to  it, 
As  I  had  some  great  business  to  impart, 
The  scent  had  almost  choak'd  me:    be  therefore  curious: 
All  keep  at  distance.  [Exit. 

Cam.     I  am  taught  my  part; 
Haste  you  to  perfect  yours. 

I    Guard.     I  had  rather  meet 
An  enemy  in  the  field,  than  stand  thus  nodding 
Like  to  a  rug-go wn'd  Watch-man. 

Enter  Diocles,  Maximinian,  Geta. 

Geta.     The  Watch  at  noon  ? 
This  is  a  new  device. 

Cam.     Stand. 

Dio.     I  am  arm'd 
Against  all  danger. 

Max.     If  I  fear  to  follow, 
A  Cowards  name  pursue  me. 

Dio.     Now  my  Fate 
Guide  and  direct  me. 

Cam.     You  are  rude  and  sawcy, 
With  your  forbidden  feet  to  touch  this  ground, 
Sacred  to  Ctesar  only,  and  to  these 
That  do  attend  his  person;   Speak,  what  are  you? 

Dio.     What  thou,  nor  any  of  thy  faction  are, 
Nor  ever  were:    Souldiers,  and  honest  men. 

Cam.     So  blunt? 

Geta.     Nay,  you  shall  find  he's  good  at  the  sharp  too. 

338 


Sc.  ii  THE    PROPHETESS 

Dio.     No  instruments  of  craft:    engines  of  murther, 
That  serve  the  Emperour  only  with  oiPd  tongues, 
Sooth  and  applaud  his  vices,  play  the  Bauds 
To  all  his  appetites;    and  when  you  have  wrought 
So  far  upon  his  weakness,  that  he's  grown 
Odious  to  the  subject  and  himself, 
And  can  no  further  help  your  wicked  ends, 
You  rid  him  out  of  the  way. 

Cam.     Treason  ? 

Dio.     'Tis  truth, 
And  I  will  make  it  good. 

Cam.     Lay  hands  upon  'em, 
Or  kill  them  suddenly. 

Geta.     I  am  out  at  that; 
I  do  not  like  the  sport. 

Dw.     What's  he  that  is 
Owner  of  any  vertue  worth  a  Roman, 
Or  does  retain  the  memory  of  the  Oath 
He  made  to  Ctesary  that  dares  lift  his  Sword 
Against  the  man  that  (careless  of  his  life) 
Comes  to  discover  such  a  horrid  Treason, 
As  when  you  hear't,  and  understand  how  long 
Y'ave  been  abus'd,  will  run  you  mad  with  fury? 
I  am  no  stranger,  but  (like  you)  a  Souldier, 
Train'd  up  one  from  my  youth :    and  there  are  some 
With  whom  I  have  serv'd,  and  (not  to  praise  my  self) 
Must  needs  confess  they  have  seen  Diodes 
In  the  late  Britain  wars,  both  dare  and  do 
Beyond  a  common  man. 

1  Guard.     Diodes  ? 

2  Guard.     I  know  him, 

The  bravest  Souldier  of  the  Empire. 

Cam.     Stand : 
If  thou  advance  an  inch,  thou  art  dead.      [Dio.  kills  Camu. 

Dio.     Die  thou, 

That  durst  oppose  thy  self  against  a  truth 
That  will  break  out,  though  mountains  cover  it. 

Get.     I  fear  this  is  a  sucking  Pig;    no  Boar, 
He  falls  so  easie. 

Dio.     Hear  me,  fellow  Souldiers; 

Y2  339 


THE   PROPHETESS          ACT  n 

And  if  I  make  it  not  apparent  to  you 

This  is  an  aft  of  Justice,  and  no  Murther, 

Cut  me  in  pieces;    Fie  disperse  the  cloud 

That  hath  so  long  obscur'd  a  bloody  act 

Ne'r  equalled  yet:    you  all  knew  with  what  favours 

The  good  Numertanus  ever  grac't 

The  Provost  Aper  ? 

Guard.     True. 

Dh.     And  that  those  bounties 
Should  have  contained  him  (if  he  e're  had  learn'd 
The  Elements  of  honesty  and  truth) 
In  loyal  duty:    But  ambition  never 
Looks  backward  on  desert,  but  with  blind  haste 
Boldly  runs  on.     But  I  lose  time.     You  are  here 
Commanded  by  this  Aper  to  attend 
The  Emperours  person;    to  admit  no  stranger 
To  have  access  to  him,  or  come  near  his  Litter, 
Under  pretence  (forsooth)  his  eyes  are  sore, 
And  his  minde  troubled:    no,  my  friends,  you  are  cozen'd; 
The  good  Numerianus  now  is  past 
The  sense  of  wrong  or  injury. 

Guard.     How,  dead  ? 

Dio.     Let  your  own  eyes  inform  you. 

Get.     An  Emperours  Cabinet  ? 

Fough,  I  have  known  a  Charnel-house  smell  sweeter. 
If  Emperours  flesh  have  this  savour,  what  will  mine  do, 
When  I  am  rotten  ? 

1  Guard.     Most  unheard  of  villany. 

2  Guard.     And  with  all  cruelty  to  be  reveng'd. 

3  Guard.    Who  is  the  murtherer  ?  name  him,  that  we  may 
Punish  it  in  his  family. 

Dio.     Who  but  Aper  I 
The  barbarous  and  most  ingrateful  Aper^ 
His  desperate  Poniard  printed  on  his  breast 
This  deadly  wound:    hate  to  vow'd  enemies 
Finds  a  full  satisfaction  in  death ; 
And  Tyrants  seek  no  farther.     He  (a  Subject, 
And  bound  by  all  the  Ties  of  love  and  duty) 
Ended  not  so;    but  does  deny  his  Prince 
(Whose  ghost  forbad  passage  to  his  rest, 

340 


Sc.  HI  THE    PROPHETESS 

Mourns  by  the  Stygian  shore)  his  Funeral-Rites. 

Nay,  weep  not;    let  your  loves  speak  in  your  anger; 

And,  to  confirm  you  gave  no  suffrage  to 

The  damned  Plot,  lend  me  your  helping  hands 

To  wreak  the  Parricide:    and  if  you  find 

That  there  is  worth  in  Diodes  to  deserve  it, 

Make  him  your  leader. 

Guard.     A  Diodes,  a  Diodes. 

Dio.   We'll  force  him  from  his  Guards.    And  now,  my  Stars, 
If  you  have  any  good  for  me  in  store, 
Shew  it,  when  I  have  slain  this  fatal  Boar.  [Exeunt. 

SCENE  III. 

Enter  Delphia  and  Drusilla,  in  a  Throne  drawn 
by  Dragons. 

Del.     Fix  here,  and  rest  a  while  your  Sail-stretch'd  wings 
That  have  out-stript  the  winds:    the  eye  of  Heaven 
Durst  not  behold  your  speed,  but  hid  it  self 
Behind  the  grossest  clouds;    and  the  pale  Moon 
Pluckt  in  her  silver  horns,  trembling  for  fear 
That  my  strong  Spells  should  force  her  from  her  Sphere; 
Such  is  the  power  of  Art. 

Dru.     Good  Aunt,  where  are  we  ? 

Del.     Look  down,  Drusilla,  on  these  lofty  Towers, 
These  spacious  streets,  where  every  private  house 
Appears  a  Palace  to  receive  a  King: 
The  site,  the  wealth,  the  beauty  of  the  place, 
Will  soon  inform  thee  'tis  imperious  Rome, 
Rome,  the  great  Mistris  of  the  conquered  world. 

Dru.     But  without  Diodes,  it  is  to  me 
Like  any  wilderness  we  have  pass'd  o're: 
Shall  I  not  see  him? 

Del.     Yes,  and  in  full  glory, 
And  glut  thy  greedy  eyes  with  looking  on 
His  prosperous  success:    Contain  thy  self; 
For  though  all  things  beneath  us  are  transparent, 
The  sharpest  sighted,  were  he  Eagle-ey'd, 
Cannot  discover  us:    nor  will  we  hang 
Idle  Spectators  to  behold  his  triumph  : 

341 


THE    PROPHETESS          ACT  n 

Enter  Diocles,  Maximinian,  Guard,  Aper, 
Senators,  Geta,  Officers,  with  Litter. 

But  when  occasion  shall  present  it  self, 
Do  something  to  add  to  it.     See,  he  comes. 

Dru.     How  god-like  he  appears!    with  such  a  grace 
The  Giants  that  attempted  to  scale  Heaven, 
When  they  lay  dead  on  the  Phlegrean  plain, 
Mars  did  appear  to  Jove. 

Del.     Forbear. 

Dlo.     Look  on  this, 

And  when  with  horrour  thou  hast  view'd  thy  deed, 
(Thy  most  accursed  deed)  be  thine  own  judge, 
And  see  (thy  guilt  consider'd)  if  thou  canst 
Perswade  thy  self  (whom  thou  stand'st  bound  to  hate) 
To  hope  or  plead  for  mercy. 

Aper.     I  confess 
My  life's  a  burden  to  me. 

Dlo.     Thou  art  like  thy  name, 
A  cruel  Boar,  whose  snout  hath  rooted  up 
The  fruitfull  Vineyard  of  the  common-wealth : 
I  long  have  hunted  for  thee,  and  since  now 
Thou  art  in  the  Toyl,  it  is  in  vain  to  hope 
Thou  ever  shalt  break  out:    thou  dost  deserve 
The  Hangmans  hook,  or  to  be  punished 
More  majorum,  whipt  with  rods  to  death, 
Or  any  way,  that  were  more  terrible. 
Yet,  since  my  future  fate  depends  upon  thee, 
Thus,  to  ful[fi]ll  great  Djelphicfs  Prophecie, 
Aper  (thou  fatal  Boar)  receive  the  honour  [Kills  Aper. 

To  fall  by  Diodes  hand.     Shine  clear,  my  Stars, 
That  usher'd  me  to  taste  this  common  air 
In  my  entrance  to  the  world,  and  give  applause 
To  this  great  work.  [Muslck. 

DeL     Strike  Musick  from  the  Spheres. 

Dru.     O  now  you  honour  me. 

Dio.     Ha!    in  the  Air! 

All.     Miraculous. 

Max.     This  shews  the  gods  approve 
The  Person,  and  the  Act:   then  if  the  Senate 

342 


Sc.  in  THE    PROPHETESS 

(For  in  their  eyes  I  read  the  Souldiers  love) 
Think  Diodes  worthy  to  supply  the  place 
Of  dead  Numerianus,  as  he  stands 
His  Heir,  in  his  revenge,  with  one  consent 
Salute  him  Emperour. 

Senat.     Long  live  Diodes : 
Augustus,  Pater  Patrice,  and  all  Titles, 
That  are  peculiar  only  to  the  Ctesars, 
We  gladly  throw  upon  him. 

Guard.     We  confirm  it, 

And  will  defend  his  honour  with  our  Swords 
Against  the  world:    raise  him  to  the  Tribunal. 

1  Sen.     Fetch  the  Imperial  Robes:    and  as  a  sign 
We  give  him  absolute  power  of  life  and  death, 
Bind  this  Sword  to  his  side. 

2  Sen.     Omit  no  Ceremony 
That  may  be  for  his  honour. 

SONG. 

Max.     Still  the  gods 
Express  that  they  are  pleas'd  with  this  election. 

Geta.     My  Master  is  an  Emperour,  and  I  feel 
A  Senators  Itch  upon  me:    would  I  could  hire 
These  fine  invisible  Fidlers  to  play  to  me 
At  my  instalment. 

Dio.     I  embrace  your  loves, 
And  hope  the  honours  that  you  heap  upon  me, 
Shall  be  with  strength  supported.     It  shall  be 
My  studie  to  appear  another  Atlas, 
To  stand  firm  underneath  this  heaven  of  Empire, 
And  bear  it  boldly.     I  desire  no  Titles, 
But  as  I  shall  deserve  'em.     I  will  keep 
The  name  I  had,  being  a  private  man, 
Only  with  some  small  difference;    I  will  add 
To  Diodes  but  two  short  syllables, 
And  be  called  Diodesianus. 

Geta.     That  is  fine: 

Fie  follow  the  fashion;   and  when  I  am  a  Senator, 
I  will  be  no  more  plain  Geta,  but  be  calFd 
Lord  Getianus. 

Dru.     He  ne'er  thinks  of  me, 

343 


THE   PROPHETESS          ACT  H 

Nor  of  your  favour. 

Enter  Niger. 

Del.     If  he  dares  prove  false, 
These  glories  shall  be  to  him  as  a  dream, 
Or  an  inchanted  banquet. 

Niger.     From  Charinus, 

From  great  Charinus,  who  with  joy  hath  heard 
Of  your  proceedings,  and  confirms  your  honours: 
He,  with  his  beauteous  Sister,  fair  Aurella^ 
Are  come  in  person,  like  themselves  attended 
To  gratulate  your  fortune.  \Loud  Mustek. 

Enter  Charinus,  Aurelia,  Attendants. 

Dto.     For  thy  news, 

Be  thou  in  France  Pro-consul:    let  us  meet 
The  Emperour  with  all  honour,  and  embrace  him. 

Dru.     O  Aunt,  I  fear  this  Princess  doth  eclipse 
Th'  opinion  of  my  beauty,  though  I  were 
My  self  to  be  the  judge. 

Del.     Rely  on  me. 

Char.     JTis  vertue,  and  not  birth  that  makes  us  noble: 
Great  actions  speak  great  minds,  and  such  should  govern; 
And  you  are  grac't  with  both.     Thus,  as  a  Brother, 
A  fellow,  and  Co-partner  in  the  Empire, 
I  do  embrace  you:    may  we  live  so  far 
From  difference,  or  emulous  Competition, 
That  all  the  world  may  say,  Although  two  Bodies, 
We  have  one  Mind. 

Aur.     When  I  look  on  the  Trunk 
Of  dear  Numerianus^  I  should  wash 
His  wounds  with  tears,  and  pay  a  Sisters  sorrow 
To  his  sad  fate:    but  since  he  lives  again 
In  your  most  brave  Revenge,  I  bow  to  you, 
As  to  a  power  that  gave  him  second  life, 
And  will  make  good  my  promise.     If  you  find 
That  there  is  worth  in  me  that  may  deserve  you, 
And  that  in  being  your  wife,  I  shall  not  bring 
Disquiet  and  dishonour  to  your  Bed, 
Although  my  youth  and  fortune  should  require 

344 


Sc.  in  THE   PROPHETESS 

Both  to  be  su'd  and  sought  to,  here  I  yield 
My  self  at  your  devotion. 

Dio.     O  you  gods, 

Teach  me  how  to  be  thankful:    you  have  pour'd 
All  blessings  on  me,  that  ambitious  man 
Could  ever  fancier    till  this  happy  minute, 
I  ne're  saw  beauty,  or  believ'd  there  could  be 
Perfection  in  a  woman.     I  shall  live 
To  serve  and  honour  you :    upon  my  knees 
I  thus  receive  you;    and,  so  you  vouchsafe  it. 
This  day  I  am  doubly  married;    to  the  Empire, 
And  your  best-self. 

Del.     False  and  perfidious  villain. — 

Dru.     Let  me  fall  headlong  on  him:    O  my  stars! 
This  I  foresaw  and  fear'd. 

Cha.     Call  forth  a  Flamen, 
This  knot  shall  now  be  ti'd. 

Del.     But  I  will  loose  it, 
If  Art  or  Hell  have  any  strength. 

Enter  a  Ftamen,   Thunder,  and  Lightning. 

Cha.     Prodigious ! 

Max.     How  soon  the  day's  orecast  ! 

Fla.     The  Signs  are  fatal: 

Juno  smiles  not  upon  this  Match,  and  shews  too 
She  has  her  thunder. 

Dio.     Can  there  be  a  stop 
In  my  full  fortune  ? 

Cha.     We  are  too  violent, 
And  I  repent  the  haste:   we  first  should  pay 
Our  latest  duty  to  the  dead,  and  then 
Proceed  discreetly.     Let's  take  up  the  body, 
And  when  we  have  plac'd  his  ashes  in  his  Urn, 
We'll  try  the  gods  again,  for  wise  men  say, 
Marriage  and  Obsequies  do  not  suit  one  day.     [Senate  Exit. 

Del.     So,  'tis  deferr'd  yet,  in  despite  of  falshood: 
Comfort  Drusilla,  for  he  shall  be  thine, 

Or  wish,  in  vain,  he  were  not.     I  will  punish  [Ascend. 

His  perjury  to  the  height.     Mount  up,  my  birds; 
Some  Rites  I  am  to  perform  to  Hecate, 

345 


THE   PROPHETESS         ACT  in 

To  perfedl  my  designs;    which  once  perform'd, 

He  shall  be  made  obedient  to  thy  Call, 

Or  in  his  mine  I  will  bury  all.  [Ascends  throne. 

Affius  T'ertius.     Scena  Prima. 

Enter  Maximinian,  (solus.) 

Max.    What  powerful  Star  shin'd  at  this  mans  Nativity  ? 
And  bless'd  his  homely  Cradle  with  full  glory  ? 
What  throngs  of  people  press  and  buz  about  him, 
And  with  their  humming  flatteries  sing  him  C&sar  ? 
Sing  him  aloud,  and  grow  hoarse  with  saluting  him  ? 
How  the  fierce-minded  Souldier  steals  in  to  him, 
Adores  and  courts  his  honour  ?   at  his  devotion 
Their  lives,  their  vertues,  and  their  fortunes  laying  ? 
Charlnus  sues,  the  Emperour  intreats  him, 
And  as  a  brighter  flame,  takes  his  beams  from  him. 
The  blessM  and  bright  Aurella,  she  doats  on  him, 
And,  as  the  god  of  Love,  burns  incense  to  him. 
All  eyes  live  on  him.     Yet  I  am  still  Maximinian^ 
Still  the  same  poor  and  wretched  thing,  his  servant. 
What  have  I  got  by  this  ?    where  lies  my  glory  ? 
How  am  I  rais'd  and  honoured  ?     I  have  gone  as  far 
To  woo  this  purblind  honour,  and  have  pass'd 
As  many  dangerous  Expeditions, 
As  noble,  and  as  high;    nay,  in  his  destinie 
(Whilst  'twas  unknown)  have  run  as  many  hazards, 
And  done  as  much;    sweat  thorow  as  many  perils; 
Only  the  Hang-man  of  Volutius  Aper 
(Which  I  mistook)  has  made  him  Emperour, 
And  me  his  slave. 

Enter  Delphia,  and  Drusilla. 

Del.     Stand  still;    he  cannot  see  us, 
Till  I  please:    mark  him  well,  this  discontentment 
I  have  forc'd  into  him,  for  thy  cause,  Drusilla. 

Max.     Can  the  gods  see  this; 
See  it  with  justice,  and  confer  their  blessings 
On  him,  that  never  flung  one  grain  of  incense 

346 


Sc.  i  THE    PROPHETESS 

Upon  their  Altars  ?    never  bow'd  his  knee  yet ; 
And  I  that  have  march'd  foot  by  foot,  struck  equally, 
And  whilst  he  was  a  gleaning,  have  been  praying, 
Contemning  his  base  covetous — 

Del.     Now  we'll  be  open. 

Max.     Bless  me,  and  with  all  reverence. 

Del.     Stand  up,  Son, 

And  wonder  not  at  thy  ungratefull  Uncle  : 
I  know  thy  thoughts,  and  I  appear  to  ease  'em. 

Max.     O  Mother,  did  I  stand  the  tenth  part  to  ye 
EngagM  and  fetter'd,  as  mine  Uncle  does, 
How  would  I  serve,  how  would  I  fall  before  ye  ! 
The  poorer  powers  we  worship. 

Del.     Peace,  and  flatter  not ; 
Necessitie  and  anger  draws  this  from  ye; 
Of  both  which  I  will  quit  ye:    For  your  Uncle 
I  spoke  this  honour,  and  it  fell  upon  him ; 
Fell,  to  his  full  content:    he  has  forgot  me, 
For  all  my  care;    forgot  me,    and  his  vow  too: 
As  if  a  dream  had  vanished,  so  h'as  lost  me, 
And  I  him :    let  him  now  stand  fast.     Come  hither ; 
My  care  is  now  on  you. 

Max.     O  blessed  Mother  ! 

Del.     Stand  still,  and  let  me  work.     So  now,  Maximinian, 
Go,  and  appear  in  Court,  and  eye  Aurella : 
Believe,   what  I  have  done,  concerns  ye  highly. 
Stand  in  her  view,  make  your  addresses  to  her: 
She  is  the  Stair  of  honour.     Tie  say  no  more, 
But  Fortune  is  your  servant:    go. 

Max.     With  reverence; — 
All  this  as  holy  truths.  [Exit. 

Del.     Believe,  and  prosper. 

Dru.     Yet  all  this  cures  not  me;    but  as  much  credit, 
As  much  belief  from  Dioclesian. 

Enter  Geta,  Lifters,  and  Suitors,  (with  Petitions.) 

Del.     Be  not  dejedled ;    I  have  warn'd  ye  often : 
The  proudest  thoughts  he  has,  I'le  humble.     Who's  this  ? 
O  'tis  the  fool  and  knave  grown  a  grave  Officer: 
Here's  hot  and  high  preferment. 

347 


THE    PROPHETESS          ACT  m 

Get.     What's  your  Bill  ? 
For  Gravel  for  the  Appian  way,  and  Pills  ? 
Is  the  way  rheumatick  ? 

I   Suitor.     'Tis  Piles,  and't  please  you. 

Get.     Remove  me  those  Piles  to  Port  Esquiline^ 
Fitter  the  place,  my  friend:    you  shall  be  paid. 

I   Suit.     I  thank  your  worship. 

Get.     Thank  me  when  ye  have  it; 
Thank  me  another  way,  ye  are  an  Asse  else. 
I  know  my  office:    you  are  for  the  streets,  Sir. 
Lord,  how  ye  throng  !    that  knave  has  eaten  Garlick; 
Whip  him,  and  bring  him  back. 

3  Suitor.     I  beseech  your  Worship; 

Here's  an  old  reckoning  for  the  dung  and  dirt,  Sir. 

Get.     It  stinks  like  thee :    away.     Yet  let  him  tarry, 
His  Bill  shall  quit  his  Breath.     Give  your  Petitions 
In  seemly  sort,  and  keep  your  hat  off,  decently. 
For  scowring  the  water-courses  thorow  the  Cities  ? 
A  fine  periphrasis  of  a  kennel-raker. 
Did  ye  scour  all,  my  friend  ?   ye  had  some  business : 
Who  shall  scour  you  ?    you  are  to  be  paid,  I  take  it, 
When  Surgeons  swear  you  have  performed  your  office. 

4  Suit.     Your  Worship's  merry. 
Get.     We  must  be  sometimes  wittie, 

To  nick  a  knave;    'tis  as  useful  as  our  gravitie. 
I'le  take  no  more  Petitions;    I  am  pester'd; 
Give  me  some  rest. 

4  Suit.     I  have  brought  the  gold  (and't  please  ye) 
About  the  Place  ye  promised. 

Get.     See  him  enter'd. 
How  does  your  Daughter? 

4  Suit.     Better  your  worship  thinks  of  her.      (Daughter. 

Get.      This    is   with    the    least.      But    let    me   see    your 
'Tis  a  good  forward  maid;   I'le  joyn  her  with  ye. 
I  do  beseech  ye,  leave  me. 

Litfor.     Ye  see  the  Edites  busie. 

Get.     And  look  to  your  places,  or  Fie  make  ye  smoke  else. 
Sirrah,  I  drank  a  cup  of  wine  at  your  house  yesterday; 
A  good  smart  wine. 

Littor.     Send  him  the  piece,  he  likes  it. 

348 


Sc.  i  THE    PROPHETESS 

Get.    And  ate  the  best  wild  Boar  at  that  same  Farmers. 

2  Su.    I  have  half  left  yet :  your  worship  shall  command  it. 

Get.     A  bit  will  serve :  give  me  some  rest :  gods  help  me. 
How  shall  I  labour  when  I  am  a  Senator  ? 

Del.     'Tis  a  fit  place  indeed.     'Save  your  Mastership; 
Do  you  know  us,  Sir  ? 

Get.     These  women  are  still  troublesom. 
There  be  houses  providing  for  such  wretched  women, 
And  some  small  Rents,  to  set  ye  a  spinning. 

Dru.     Sir, 

We  are  no  Spinsters;    nor,  if  you  look  upon  us, 
So  wretched  as  you  take  us. 

Del.     Does  your  Mightiness 
That  is  a  great  destroyer  of  your  Memorie, 
Yet  understand  our  faces  ? 

Get.     'Prethee  keep  off,  woman; 
It  is  not  fit  I  should  know  every  creature. 
Although  I  have  been  familiar  with  thee  heretofore, 
I  must  not  know  thee  now:    my  place  neglects  thee. 
Yet,  because  I  daign  a  glimpse  of  your  remembrances, 
Give  me  your  Suits,  and  wait  me  a  month  hence. 

Del.     Our  Suits  are,  Sir,  to  see  the  Emperour, 
The  Emperour  Diocletian,  to  speak  to  him, 
And  not  to  wait  on  you.     We  have  told  you  all,  Sir. 

Get.     I  laugh  at  your  simplicitie,  poor  women: 
See  the  Emperour  ?   why  you  are  deceived :    now 
The  Emperour  appears  but  once  in  seven  years, 
And  then  he  shines  not  on  such  weeds  as  you  are. 
Forward,  and  keep  your  State,  and  keep  beggers  from  me. 

Drus.     Here  is  a  prettie  youth.  [Exeunt. 

Enter  Diocles. 

Del.     He  shall  be  prettie, 

Or  I  will  want  my  will,  since  ye  are  so  high,  Sir: 
Fie  raise  ye  higher,  or  my  art  shall  fail  me. 
Stand  close,  he  comes. 

Dio.     How  am  I  cross'd  and  tortur'd  ! 
My  most  wish'd  happiness,  my  lovely  Mistris, 
That  must  make  good  my  hopes,  and  link  my  greatness, 
Yet  sever'd  from  mine  arms  !     Tell  me,  high  heaven, 

349 


THE   PROPHETESS          ACT  m 

How  have  I  sinn'd,  that  you  should  speak  in  thunder, 

In  horrid  thunder,  when  my  heart  was  ready 

To  leap  into  her  breast  ?   the  Priest  was  ready  ? 

The  joyful  virgins  and  the  young  men  ready  ? 

When  Hymen  stood  with  all  his  flames  about  him 

Blessing  the  bed  ?   the  house  with  full  joy  sweating  ? 

And  expectation,  like  the  Roman  Eagle, 

Took  stand,  and  call'd  all  eyes  ?     It  was  your  honour ; 

And  e're  you  give  it  full,  do  you  destroy  it  ? 

Or  was  there  some  dire  Star  ?    some  Devil  that  did  it  ? 

Some  sad  malignant  Angel  to  mine  honour? 

With  you  I  dare  not  rage. 

Del.     With  me  thou  canst  not, 

Though  it  was  I.     Nay,  look  not  pale  and  frighted; 
I'le  fright  thee  more.     With  me  thou  canst  not  quarrel; 
I  rais'd  the  thunder,  to  rebuke  thy  falshood: 
Look  here,  to  her  thy  falshood.     Now  be  angry, 
And  be  as  great  in  evil  as  in  Empire. 

Dio.      Bless  me,  ye  Powers. 

Del.     Thou  hast  full  need  of  blessing. 
'Twas  I,  that  at  thy  great  Inauguration, 
Hung  in  the  air  unseen:    'twas  I  that  honour'd  thee 
With  various  Musicks,  and  sweet  sounding  airs: 
'Twas  I  inspir'd  the  Souldiers  heart  with  wonder, 
And  made  him  throw  himself,  with  love  and  duty, 
Low  at  thy  feet:    'twas  I  that  fix'd  him  to  thee, 
But  why  did  I  all  this  ?    To  keep  thy  honestie, 
Thy  vow  and  faith;    that  once  forgot  and  slighted 
Aurelia  in  regard,  the  Marriage  ready, 
The  Priest  and  all  the  Ceremonies  present, 
'Twas  I  that  thundred  loud;    'twas  I  that  threatned; 
'Twas  I  that  cast  a  dark  face  over  heaven, 
And  smote  ye  all  with  terrour. 

Dru.     Yet  consider, 

As  ye  are  noble,  as  I  have  deserv'd  ye; 
For  yet  ye  are  free :    if  neither  faith  nor  promise, 
The  deeds  of  elder  times  may  be  remembred, 
Let  these  new-dropping  tears;    for  I  still  love  ye, 
These  hands  held  up  to  heaven. 

Dio.     I  must  not  pity  ye; 

350 


Sc.  ii  THE   PROPHETESS 

'Tis  not  wise  in  me. 

Del.     How  ?   not  wise  ? 

Dio.     Nor  honourable. 

A  Princess  is  my  Love,  and  doats  upon  me: 
A  fair  and  lovely  Princess  is  my  Mistris. 
I  am  an  Emperour:    consider,  Prophetess, 
Now  my  embraces  are  for  Queens  and  Princesses, 
For  Ladies  of  high  mark,  for  divine  beauties: 
To  look  so  low  as  this  cheap  common  sweetness, 
Would  speak  me  base,  my  names  and  glories  nothing. 
I  grant  I  made  a  vow ;   what  was  I  then  ? 
As  she  is  now,  of  no  sort,  (hope  made  me  promise) 
But  now  I  am;    to  keep  this  vow,  were  monstrous, 
A  madness,  and  a  low  inglorious  fondness. 

Del.     Take  heed,  proud  man. 

Drus.     Princes  may  love  with  Titles, 
But  I  with  Truth. 

Del.     Take  heed;    here  stands  thy  destinie; 
Thy  Fate  here  follows. 

Dio.     Thou  doating  Sorceress, 

Wouldst  have  me  love  this  thing,  that  is  not  worthy 
To  kneel  unto  my  Saint  ?   to  kiss  her  shadow  ? 
Great  Princes  are  her  slaves;    selected  beauties 
Bow  at  her  beck:    the  mighty  Persian's  Daughter 
(Bright  as  the  breaking  East,  as  mid-day  glorious) 
Waits  her  commands,  and  grows  proud  in  her  pleasures. 
Tie  see  her  honour'd:    some  Match  I  shall  think  of, 
That  shall  advance  ye  both;  mean  time  I'll  favour  ye.   [Exit. 

Del.   Mean  time  Fie  haunt  thee.    Cry  not  (wench)  be  con- 
E're  long,  thou  shalt  more  pity  him  (observe  me)       (fident, 
And  pity  him  in  truth,  than  now  thou  seek'st  him: 
My  art  and  I  are  yet  companions.     Come,  Girl.        [Exeunt. 

SCENE  II. 

Enter  Geta,  Liftors. 

Get.     I  am  too  merciful,  I  find  it,  friends, 
Of  too  soft  a  nature  to  be  an  Officer; 
I  bear  too  much  remorse. 

I   Lift.     'Tis  your  own  fault,  Sir; 

351 


THE   PROPHETESS         ACT  in 

For  look  you,  one  so  newly  warm  in  Office 
Should  lay  about  him  blindfold,  like  true  Justice, 
Hit  where  it  will :    the  more  ye  whip  and  hang,  Sir, 
(Though  without  cause;    let  that  declare  it  self  afterward) 
The  more  ye  are  admired. 

Get.     I  think  I  shall  be.— 

2  Lift.     Your  worship  is  a  man  of  a  spare  body, 
And  prone  to  anger. 

Get.     Nay,  I  will  be  angry, 
And,  the  best  is,  I  need  not  shew  my  reason. 

2  Lift.     You  need  not,  Sir,  your  place  is  without  reason ; 
And  what  you  want  in  growth  and  full  proportion, 
Make  up  in  rule  and  rigour. 

Get.     A  rare  Counsellor; 
Instruct  me  further.     Is  it  fit,  my  friends, 
The  Emperour  my  Master  Dioclesian 
Should  now  remember  or  the  times  or  manners 
That  calPd  him  plain  down  Diodes  ? 

1  Lift.     He  must  not, 

It  stands  not  with  his  Royaltie. 

Get.     I  grant  ye, 
I  being  then  the  Edile  Getianus, 
A  man  of  place,  and  Judge,  is  it  held  requisite 
I  should  commit  to  my  consideration 
Those  Rascals  of  removed  and  ragged  hours, 
That  with  unreverend  mouths  call'd  me  Slave  Getal 

2  Lift.    You  must  forget  their  names ;  your  honour  bids  ye. 
Get.     I  do  forget;    but  I'le  hang  their  natures: 

I  will  ascend  my  place,  which  is  of  Justice ; 
And  mercy,  I  forget  thee. 

Suitor.     A  rare  Magistrate! 
Another  Solon  sure. 

Get.     Bring  out  the  offenders. 

i  Lift.    There  are  none  yet,  Sir,  but  no  doubt  there  will  be. 
But  if  you  please  touch  some  things  of  those  natures. 

Get.     And  am  I  ready,  and  mine  anger  too  ? 
The  melancholy  of  a  Magistrate  upon  me, 
And  no  offenders  to  execute  my  fury  ? 
Ha  ?   no  offenders,  knaves  ? 

i  Lift.     There  are  knaves  indeed,  Sir, 

352 


Sc.  ii  THE    PROPHETESS 

But  we  hope  shortly  to  have  'em  for  your  worship. 

Get.     No  men  to  hang  or  whip  ?  are  you  good  officers, 
That  provide  no  fuel  for  a  Judges  fury  ? 
In  this  place  something  must  be  done;  this  Chair,  I  tell  ye, 
When  I  sit  down,  must  savour  of  Severitie: 
Therefore  I  warn  ye  all,  bring  me  lewd  people, 
Or  likely  to  be  lewd ;    twigs  must  be  cropt  too : 
Let  me  have  evil  persons  in  abundance, 
Or  make  'em  evil;    'tis  all  one,  do  but  say  so, 
That  I  may  have  fit  matter  for  a  Magistrate; 
And  let  me  work.     If  I  sit  empty  once  more, 
And  lose  my  longing,  as  I  am  true  Edile, 
And  as  I  hope  to  reclifie  my  Countrie, 
You  are  those  scabs  I  will  scratch  off  from  the  Commonwealth, 
You  are  these  Rascals  of  the  State  I  treat  of, 
And  you  shall  find  and  feel. — 

2  Lift.     You  shall  have  many, 
Many  notorious  people. 

Get.     Let  'em  be  people, 

And  take  ye  notorious  to  your  selves.    Mark  me,  my  Lidlors, 
And  you,  the  rest  of  my  Officials; 
If  I  be  angry,  as  my  place  will  ask  it, 
And  want  fit  matter  to  dispose  my  Authoritie, 
I'le  hang  a  hundred  of  ye:    I'le  not  stay  longer, 
Nor  enquire  no  further  into  your  offences: 
It  is  sufficient  that  I  find  no  Criminals, 
And  therefore  I  must  make  some:    if  I  cannot, 
Suffer  my  self;   for  so  runs  my  Commission. 

Suitor.     An  admirable,  zealous  and  true  Justice. 

i  Lifi.     I  cannot  hold :    if  there  be  any  people, 
Of  what  degree  soever,  or  what  qualitie, 
That  would  behold  the  wonderful  works  of  Justice 
In  a  new  Officer,  a  man  conceal'd  yet, 
Let  him  repair,  and  see,  and  hear,  and  wonder 
At  the  most  wise  and  gracious  Getianus. 

Enter  Delphia,  and  Drusilla. 

Get.     This  qualifies  a  little.     What  are  these  ? 
Del.     You  shall  not  mourn  still:    times  of  recreation, 
To  allay  this  sadness,  must  be  sought.     What's  here  ? 

B.-F.  v.  z  353 


THE    PROPHETESS          ACT  HI 

A  superstitious  flock  of  sensless  people 
Worshipping  a  sign  in  Office  ? 

Get.     Lay  hold  on  her, 
And  hold  her  fast, 

She'll  slip  thorow  your  fingers  like  an  Eel  else; 
I  know  her  tricks:    hold  her,  I  say,  and  bind  her, 
Or  hang  her  first,  and  then  Fie  tell  her  wherefore. 

Del.     What  have  I  done? 

Get.  Thou  hast  done  enough  to  undo  thee;  (warrant, 
Thou  hast  pressed  to  the  Emperours  presence  without  my 
I  being  his  key  and  image. 

Del.     You  are  an  image  indeed, 

And  of  the  coursest  stuff,  and  the  worst  making  (Asse. 

That  e're  I  looked  on  yet:  Fie  make  as  good  an  image  of  an 

Get.     Besides,  thou  art  a  woman  of  a  lewd  life. 

Del.     I  am  no  whore,  Sir,  nor  no  common  fame 
Has  yet  proclaim'd  me  to  the  people,  vitious. 

Get.     Thou  art  to  me  a  damnable  lewd  woman, 
Which  is  as  much  as  all  the  people  swore  it ; 
I  know  thou  art  a  keeper  of  tame  Devils  : 
And  whereas  great  and  grave  men  of  my  place 
Can  by  the  Laws  be  allow'd  but  one  apiece, 
For  their  own  services  and  recreations  ; 
Thou,  like  a  traiterous  quean,  keepst  twenty  devils  ; 
Twenty  in  ordinary. 

Del.     Pray  ye,  Sir,  be  pacified, 
If  that  be  all :    and  if  ye  want  a  servant, 
You  shall  have  one  of  mine  shall  serve  for  nothing, 
Faithful,  and  diligent,  and  a  wise  Devil  too  ; 
Think  for  what  end. 

Get.     Let  her  alone,  'tis  useful  ; 
We  men  of  business  must  use  speedie  servants  : 
Let  me  see  your  family. 

Del.     Think  but  one,  he  is  ready. 

Get.     A  Devil  for  intelligence  ?     No,  no, 
He  will  lye  beyond  all  travellers.     A  State-Devil? 
Neither  ;    he  will  undo  me  at  mine  own  weapon. 
For  execution  ?    he  will  hang  me  too. 
I  would  have  a  handsom,  pleasant  and  a  fine  she-devil, 
To  entertain  the  Ladies  that  come  to  me  ; 

354 


Sc.  m  THE    PROPHETESS 

A  travelFd  Devil  too,  that  speaks  the  tongues, 

And  a  neat  carving  Devil.  [Mustek. 

Enter  a  she-devil. 

Del.     Be  not  fearful. 

Get.     A  prettie  brown  devil  i'faith ;   may  I  not  kiss  her  ? 

Del.     Yes,  and  embrace  her  too  ;    she  is  your  servant. 
Fear  not ;    her  lips  are  cool  enough. 

Get.     She  is  marvellous  well  mounted ;  what's  her  name  ? 

Del.     Lucifera. 

Get.     Come  hither,  Lucifera,  and  kiss  me. 

Del.     Let  her  sit  on  your  knee. 

Get.     The  Chair  turns  :    hey-boys  : 
Pleasant  i'faith,  and  a  fine  facetious  Devil.  [Dance. 

Del.     She  would  whisper  in  your  ear,  and  tell  ye  wonders. 

Get.     Come  ;    what's  her  name  ? 

Del.     Lucifera.  (burnt  to  ashes. 

Get.     Come,  Lucie,  come,  speak  thy  mind.     I  am  certain 

[Exeunt. 

I  have  a  kind  of  Glasse-house  in  my  cod-piece. 
Are  these  the  flames  of  State  ?     I  am  rested  over, 
Over,  and  over-rosted.     Is  this  Office  ? 
The  pleasure  of  authoritie  ?     I'le  no  more  on't, 
Till  I  can  punish  Devils  too;    I'le  quit  it. 
Some  other  Trade  now,  and  some  course  less  dangerous, 
Or  certainly  I'le  tyle  again  for  two  pence.  [Exit. 

SCENE  III. 

Enter  Charinus,  Aurelia,  Cassana,  Ambassadours,  Attendants. 

Aur.     Never  dispute  with  me  ;    you  cannot  have  her : 
Nor  name  the  greatness  of  your  King  ;    I  scorn  him : 
Your  knees  to  me  are  nothing ;    should  he  bow  too, 
It  were  his  dutie,  and  my  power  to  slight  him. 

Cha.     She  is  her  woman  ;    never  sue  to  me  ; 
And  in  her  power  to  render  her,  or  keep  her ; 
And  she,  my  Sister,  not  to  be  compell'd, 
Nor  have  her  own  snatch'd  from  her. 

Amb.     We  desire  not, 
But  for  what  ransom  she  shall  please  to  think  of; 

22  355 


THE   PROPHETESS         ACT  in 

Jewels,  or  Towns,  or  Provinces* 

Aur.     No  ransom, 

No,  not  your  Kings  own  head,  his  crown  upon  it, 
And  all  the  low  subjections  of  his  people. 

Amb.     Fair  Princes  should  have  tender  thoughts. 

Aur.     Is  she  too  good 

To  wait  upon  the  mighty  Emperours  Sister? 
What  Princess  of  that  sweetness,  or  that  excellence, 
Sprung  from  the  proudest,  and  the  mightiest  Monarchs, 
But  may  be  highly  blest  to  be  my  servant  ? 

Cas.     'Tis  most  true,  mighty  Lady. 

Aur.     Has  my  fair  usage 

Made  you  so  much  despise  me  and  your  fortune, 
That  ye  grow  weary  of  my  entertainments  ? 
Henceforward,  as  ye  are,  I  will  command  ye, 
And  as  you  were  ordain'd  my  prisoner, 
My  slave,  and  one  I  may  dispose  of  any  way, 
No  more  my  fair  Companion  :    tell  your  King  so : 
And  if  he  had  more  Sisters,  I  would  have  'em, 
And  use  'em  as  I  please.    You  have  your  answer,     (it.    [Ex. 

Amb.     We  must  take  some  other  way:  force  must  compel 

Enter  Maximinian. 

Max.     Now  if  thou  beest  a  Prophetess,  and  canst  do 
Things  of  that  wonder  that  thy  tongue  delivers, 
Canst  raise  me  too  :    I  shall  be  bound  to  speak  thee  : 
I  half  believe,  confirm  the  other  to  me, 
And  Monuments  to  all  succeeding  Ages, 
Of  thee,  and  of  thy  piety. — Now  she  eyes  me. 
Now  work  great  power  of  art :    she  moves  unto  me  : 
How  sweet,  how  fair,  and  lovely  her  aspects  are  ! 
Her  eyes  like  bright  Eoan  flames  shoot  thorow  me. 

Aur.     O  my  fair  friend,  where  have  you  been? 

Max.     What  am  I  ? 
What  does  she  take  me  for  ?   work  still,  work  strongly. 

Aur.     Where  have  you  fled,  my  loves  and  my  embraces  ? 

Max.     I  am  beyond  my  wits. 

Aur.     Can  one  poor  Thunder, 
Whose  causes  are  as  common  as  his  noises, 
Make  ye  defer  your  lawful  and  free  pleasures  ? 

356 


Sc.  HI  THE   PROPHETESS 

Strike  terrour  to  a  Souldiers  heart,  a  Monarchs  ? 

Thorow  all  the  fires  of  angry  heaven,  thorow  tempests 

That  sing  of  nothing  but  destruction, 

Even  underneath  the  bolt  of  Jove,  then  ready, 

And  aiming  dreadfully,  I  would  seek  you, 

And  flie  into  your  arms. 

Max.     I  shall  be  mighty, 
And  (which  I  never  knew  yet)  I  am  goodly; 
For  certain,  a  most  handsom  man. 

Cha.     Fie,  Sister, 

What  a  forgetful  weakness  is  this  in  ye  ? 
What  a  light  presence  ?    these  are  words  and  offers 
Due  only  to  your  husband  Dioclesian  ; 
This  free  behaviour  only  his. 

Aur.     JTis  strange 

That  only  empty  names  compel  affections  : 
This  man,  ye  see,  give  him  what  name  or  title, 
Let  it  be  ne're  so  poor,  ne're  so  despis'd,  Brother, 
This  lovely  man. — 

Max.     Though  I  be  hang'd,  Tie  forward  : 
For,  certain,  I  am  excellent,  and  knew  not. 

Aur.     This  rare  and  sweet  young  man,  see  how  he  looks, 

Max.     Tie  justle  hard,  dear  Uncle.  (Sir. 

Aur.     This  thing,  I  say, 

Let  him  be  what  he  will,  or  bear  what  fortune, 
This  most  unequall'd  man,  this  spring  of  beauty 
Deserves  the  bed  of  Juno. 

Cha.     You  are  not  mad. 

Max.     I  hope  she  be ;    I  am  sure  I  am  little  better. 

Aur.     O  fair,  sweet  man  ! 

Cha.     For  shame  refrain  this  impudence.  (blessing: 

Max.     Would   I   had   her  alone,   that  I    might   seal    this 
Sure,  sure  she  should  not  beg :    if  this  continue, 
As  I  hope,  Heaven,  it  will ;    Uncle,  Fie  nick  ye, 
Tie  nick  ye,  by  this  life.     Some  would  fear  killing 
In  the  pursuit  now  of  so  rare  a  venture  ; 

Enter  Diocles. 

I  am  covetous  to  die  for  such  a  beauty. 

Mine  Uncle  comes :    now,  if  she  stand,  I  am  happie. 

357 


THE    PROPHETESS         ACT  in 

Cha.     Be  right  again,  for  honours  sake. 

Dlo.     Fair  Mistris — 

Aur.     What  man  is  this  ?    Away.     What  sawcy  fellow  ? 
Dare  any  such  base  groom  press  to  salute  me  ? 

Dio.     Have  ye  forgot  me,  Fair,  or  do  you  jest  with  me? 
Tie  tell  ye  what  I  am :    come,  'pray  ye  look  lovely. 
Nothing  but  frowns  and  scorns  ? 

Aur.     Who  is  this  fellow  ? 

Dio.     Tie  tell  ye  who  I  am  :    I  am  your  husband. 

Aur.     Husband  to  me  ? 

Dio.     To  you.     I  am  Dioclesian. 

Max.     More  of  this  sport,  and  I  am  made,  old  Mother: 
Effect  but  this  thou  hast  begun. 

Dio.     I  am  he,  Lady, 

Reveng'd  your  Brothers  death  ;  slew  cruel  Aper ; 
I  am  he  the  Souldier  courts,  the  Empire  honours, 
Your  Brother  loves  ;  am  he  (my  lovely  Mistriss) 
Will  make  you  Empress  of  the  World. 

Max.     Still  excellent ; 

Now  I  see  too,  mine  Uncle  may  be  cozen'd : 
An  Emperour  may  suffer  like  another. 
Well  said,  old  Mother,  hold  up  this  miracle. 

Aur.     Thou  lyest,  thou  art  not  he:   thou  a  brave  fellow? 

Char.     Is  there  no  shame,  no  modesty  in  women  ? 

Aur.     Thou  one  of  high  and  full  mark  ? 

Dio.     Gods  !    what  ails  she  ? 

Aur.     Generous  and  noble  ?     Fie,  thou  liest  most  basely. 
Thy  face,  and  all  aspects  upon  thee,  tell  me 
Thou  art  a  poor  Dalmatian  Slave,  a  low  thing, 
Not  worth  the  name  of  Roman  ;   stand  off  farther. 

Dio.     What  may  this  mean  ? 

Aur.     Come  hither,  my  Endymion  ; 
Come,  shew  thy  self,  and  all  eyes  be  blessed  in  thee. 

Dio.     Ha  ?    what  is  this  ? 

Aur.     Thou  fair  star  that  I  live  by, 
Look  lovely  on  me,  break  into  full  brightness  ; 
Look,  here's  a  face  now,  of  another  making, 
Another  mold  ;    here's  a  divine  proportion, 
Eyes  fit  for  Phoebus  self  to  gild  the  World  with  ; 
And  there's  a  brow  arch'd  like  the  State  of  Heaven  ; 

358 


Sc.  in  THE    PROPHETESS 

Look  how  it  bends,  and  with  what  radiance, 

As  if  the  Synod  of  the  gods  sate  under ; 

Look  there,  and  wonder  ;    now  behold  that  fellow, 

That  admirable  thing,  cut  with  an  Axe  out.  (pence, 

Max.     Old  Woman,  though  I  cannot  give  thee  recom- 
Yet  certainly,  I'll  make  thy  name  as  glorious. 

Dio.     Is  this  in  truth  ? 

Char.     She  is  mad,  and  you  must  pardon  her. 

Dio.     She  hangs  upon  him  ;    see. 

Char.     Her  fit  is  strong  now, 
Be  not  you  passionate. 

Dio.     She  kisses. 

Char.     Let  her ; 
'Tis  but  the  fondness  of  her  fit. 

Dio.     I  am  fool'd, 
And  if  I  suffer  this. 

Char.     'Pray  ye,  friend,  be  pacified, 
This  will  be  off  anon  ;   she  goes  in.  [Exit  Aurelia. 

Dio.     Sirrah. 

Max.     What  say  you,  Sir  ? 

Dio.     How  dare  thy  lips,  thy  base  lips  ? 

Max.     I  am  your  Kinsman,  Sir,  and  no  such  base  one; 
I  sought  no  kisses,  nor  I  had  no  reason 
To  kick  the  Princess  from  me  ;    'twas  no  manners ; 
I  never  yet  compell'd  her ;    of  her  courtesie, 
What  she  bestows,  Sir,  I  am  thankful  for. 

Dio.     Be  gone,  Villain. 

Max.     I  will,  and  I  will  go  off  with  that  glory, 
And  magnifie  my  fate.  [Exit. 

Dio.     Good  Brother,  leave  me, 
I  am  to  my  self  a  trouble  now. 

Char.     I  am  sorry  for't ; 
You'll  find  it  but  a  woman-fit  to  try  ye. 

Dio.     It  may  be  so,  I  hope  so. 

Char.     I  am  asham'd,  and  what  I  think  I  blush  at.     [Exit. 

Dio.     What  misery  hath  my  fortune  bred  me  ? 
And  how  far  must  I  suffer  ?     Poor  and  low  States, 
Though  they  know  wants  and  hungers,  know  not  these, 
Know  not  these  killing  Fates  ;    little  contents  them, 
And  with  that  little  they  live,  Kings  commanding, 

359 


THE   PROPHETESS         ACT  m 

And  ordering  both  their  ends  and  loves.     O  Honour! 
How  greedily  men  seek  thee,  and  once  purchased, 
How  many  Enemies  to  mans  peace  bringst  thou  ! 
How  many  griefs  and  sorrows,  that  like  sheers, 
Like  fatal  Sheers,  are  sheering  off  our  lives  still  ! 
How  many  sad  Eclipses  do  we  shine  thorow  ! 


Enter  Delphia,  Drusilla, 

When  I  presum'd  I  was  blessed  in  this  fair  woman. 

Del.     Behold  him  now,  and  tell  me  how  thou  lik'st  him. 
Dio.     When  all  my  hopes  were  up,  and  Fortune  dealt  me 
Even  for  the  greatest,  and  the  happiest  Monarch, 
Then  to  be  cozen'd,  to  be  cheated  basely  ? 
By  mine  own  Kinsman  crossM  ?     O  villain  Kinsman  ! 
Curse  of  my  blood  ;   because  a  little  younger, 
A  little  smoother  fac'd  ;    O  false,  false  woman, 
False  and  forgetful  of  thy  faith;    I'll  kill  him. 
But  can  I  kill  her  hate  too  ?     No,  he  woos  not, 
Nor  worthy  is  of  death,  because  she  follows  him, 
Because  she  courts  him  ;    Shall  I  kill  an  innocent  ? 
O  Diodes  \    would  thou  hadst  never  known  this, 
Nor  surfeited  upon  this  sweet  Ambition, 
That  now  lies  bitter  at  thy  heart  ;    O  Fortune, 
That  thou  hast  none  to  fool,  and  blow  like  bubbles, 
But  Kings,  and  their  Contents  ! 

Del.     What  think  you  now,  Girl  ? 
Dm.     Upon  my  life,  I  pity  his  misfortune  : 
See  how  he  weeps  j    I  cannot  hold. 

Del.     Away,  fool  ; 

He  must  weep  bloody  tears  before  thou  hast  him. 
How  fare  ye  now,  brave  Dioclestan  ? 
What  !    lazy  in  your  loves  ?    has  too  much  pleasure 
DullM  your  most  mighty  faculties  ? 

Dio.     Art  thou  there  ! 

More  to  torment  me  ?    dost  thou  come  to  mock  me  ? 
Del.     I  do,  and  I  do  laugh  at  all  thy  sufferings  : 
I,  that  have  wrought  'em,  come  to  scorn  thy  wailings  ; 
I  told  thee  once,  this  is  thy  fate,  this  woman, 
And  as  thou  usest  her,  so  thou  shalt  prosper. 
It  is  not  in  thy  power  to  turn  this  destiny, 

360 


Sc.  in  THE   PROPHETESS 

Nor  stop  the  torrent  of  those  miseries 

(If  thou  negleclst  her  still)  shall  fall  upon  thee. 

Sith  that  thou  art  dishonest,  false  of  faith, 

Proud,  and  dost  think  no  Power  can  cross  thy  pleasures ; 

Thou  wilt  find  a  Fate  above  thee. 

Dru.     Good  Aunt,  speak  mildly  ; 
See  how  he  looks  and  suffers. 

Dlo.     I  find  and  feel,  woman, 
That  I  am  miserable. 

Del.     Thou  art  most  miserable. 

Dlo.     That  as  I  am  the  most,  I  am  most  miserable. 
But  didst  thou  work  this  ? 

Del.     Yes,  and  will  pursue  it. 

Dlo.     Stay  there,  and  have  some  pity,  fair  Drusilla 
Let  me  perswade  thy  mercy,  thou  hast  lov'd  me, 
Although  I  know  my  suit  will  sound  unjustly 
To  make  thy  love  the  means  to  lose  it  self, 
Have  pity  on  me. 

Dru.     I  will  do. 

Del.     Peace,  Niece, 

Although  this  softness  may  become  your  love, 
Your  care  must  scorn  it.     Let  him  still  contemn  thee, 
And  still  I'll  work  ;    the  same  affection 
He  ever  shews  to  thee,  be  it  sweet  or  bitter, 
The  same  Aurella  shall  shew  him ;    no  further  ; 
Nor  shall  the  wealth  of  all  his  Empire  free  this. 

Dlo.     I  must  speak  fair.     Lovely  young  Maid,  forgive  me, 
Look  gently  on  my  sorrows ;    you  that  grieve  too, 
I  see  it  in  your  eyes,  and  thus  I  meet  it. 

Dru.     O  Aunt,  I  am  bless'd. 

Dio.     Be  not  both  young  and  cruel, 
Again  I  beg  it  thus. 

Dru.     Thus,  Sir,  I  grant  it. 

Enter  Aurelia. 

He's  mine  own  now,  Aunt. 

Del.     Not  yet,  Girl,  thou  art  cozen'd. 

Aur.     O  my  dear  Lord,  how  have  I  wrong'd  your  patience ! 
How  wandred  from  the  truth  of  my  affections  ! 
How  (like  a  wanton  fool)  shun'd  that  I  lov'd  most  ! 

361 


THE   PROPHETESS          ACT  iv 

But  you  are  full  of  goodness,  to  forgive,  Sir, 
As  I  of  grief  to  beg,  and  shame  to  take  it ; 
Sure  I  was  not  my  self,  some  strange  illusion, 
Or  what  you  please  to  pardon. 

Dio.     All,  my  Dearest ; 

All,  my  Delight ;  and  with  more  pleasure  take  thee, 
Than  if  there  had  been  no  such  dream  :  for  certain, 
It  was  no  more. 

Aur.     Now  you  have  seal'd  forgiveness, 
I  take  my  leave,  and  the  gods  keep  your  goodness.       [Exit. 

Del.     You  see  how  kindness  prospers  ;    be  but  so  kind 
To  marry  her,  and  see  then  what  new  fortunes, 
New  joys  and  pleasures ;    far  beyond  this  Lady, 
Beyond  her  Greatness  too. 

Dio.     I'll  dye  a  dog  first. 
Now  I  am  reconcil'd,  I  will  enjoy  her 
In  spight  of  all  thy  spirits,  and  thy  witchcrafts. 

Del.     Thou  shalt  not,  fool. 

Dio.     I  will,  old  doting  Devil ; 
And  wert  thou  any  thing  but  air  and  spirit, 
My  Sword  should  tell  thee. 

Del.     I  contemn  thy  threatnings, 
And  thou  shalt  know  I  hold  a  power  above  thee. 
We  must  remove  Aurelia  ;    Come,  farewel,  fool, 
When  thou  shalt  see  me  next,  thou  shalt  bow  to  me. 

Dio.     Look  thou  appear  no  more  to  cross  my  pleasures. 

[Exeunt. 

A5tm    Quartus.     Scena    Prima. 

Enter    CHORUS. 

So  full  of  matter  is  our  Historic, 
Yet  mixt  I  hope  with  sweet  varietie, 
The  accidents  not  vulgar  too,  but  rare, 
And  fit  to  be  presented,  that  there  wants 
Room  in  this  narrow  Stage,  and  time  to  express 
In  Atfion  to  the  life,  our  Dioclesian 
In  his  full  lustre:    Yet  (as  the  Statuary, 
That  by  the  large  size  of  Alcides'j  foot, 

362 


Sc.  i  THE    PROPHETESS 

Guessed  at  his  whole  proportion)  so  we  hope 

Tour  apprehensive  judgments  will  conceive 

Out  of  the  shadow  we  can  only  shew. 

How  fair  the  Body  was ;    and  will  be  pleas 'd, 

Out  of  your  wonted  goodness,  to  behold 

As  in  a  silent  Mirrour,  what  we  cannot 

With  fit  conveniency  of  time,  allowed 

For  such  Presentments,  cloath  in  vocal  sounds. 

Yet  with  such  Art  the  Subjefl  is  conveigtfd, 

That  every  Scene  and  passage  shall  be  clear 

Even  to  the  grossest   Understander  here. 

[Loud  Musick. 

Dumb   Shew. 

Enter,  at  one  Door,  Delpbia,  Ambassadours,  They 
whisper  together ;  they  take  an  Oath  upon  her  hand ; 
She  circles  them  (kneeling)  with  her  Magick-rod ; 
they  rise  and  draw  their  Swords.  Enter,  at  the  other 
door,  Diocletian,  Cbarinus,  Maximinian,  Niger,  Aurelia, 
Cassana,  Guard  ;  Cbarinus  and  Niger  perswading 
Aurelia  ;  She  offers  to  embrace  Maximinian  ;  Diodes 
draws  his  Sword,  keeps  off  Maximinian,  turns  to 
Aurelia,  kneels  to  her,  lays  his  Sword  at  her  feet,  she 
scornfully  turns  away :  Delpbia  gives  a  sign ;  the 
Ambassadours  and  Souldiers  rush  upon  them,  seize 
on  Aurelia,  Cassana,  Cbarinus,  and  Maximinian  ;  Dio- 
clesian,  and  others  offer  to  rescue  them  ;  Delpbia  raises 
a  mist;  Exeunt  Ambassadours  and  Prisoners,  and  the 
rest  discontented. 

The  skilful  Delphia  finding  by  sure  proof 
The  presence  of  Aurelia  dim'd  the  Beauty 
Of  her  Drusilla  ;    and  in  spight  of  Charms, 
The  Emperour  her  Brother,  Great  Charinus, 
Still  urg'd  her  to  the  love  of  Dioclesian, 
Deals  with  the  Persian  Legats,  that  were  bound 
For  the  Ransom  of  Cassana,  to  remove 

363 


THE   PROPHETESS          ACT  iv 

Aurelia,  Maximinian,  and  Charinus 

Out  of  the  sight  of  Rome  ;    but  takes  their  Oaths 

(In  lieu  of  her  assistance)  that  they  shall  not 

On  any  terms,  when  they  were  in  their  power. 

Presume  to  touch  their  lives ;    This  yielded  to, 

They  lye  in  ambush  for  'em.     Dioclesian 

Still  mad  for  fair  Aurelia,  that  doted 

As  much  on  Maximinian,  twice  had  killed  him, 

But  that  her  frown  restrained  him  :    He  pursues  her 

With  all  humility,    but  she  continues 

Proud  and  disdainful.      The  sign  given  by  Delphia, 

The  Persians  break  thorow,  and  seize  upon 

Charinus  and  his  Sister,  with  Maximinian, 

And  free  Cassana.     For  their  speedy  rescue, 

Enraged  Dioclesian  draws  his  Sword, 

And  bids  his  Guard  assist  him  ;    Then  too  weak 

Had  been  all  opposition  and  resistance 

The  Persians  could  have  made  against  their  fury, 

If  Delphia  by  her  Cunning  had  not  raised 

A  foggy  Mist,  which,  as  a  Cloud,  concealed  them, 

Deceiving  their  Pursuers.     Now  be  pleased, 

That  your  imaginations  may  help  you 

To  think  them  safe  in  Persia,  and  Dioclesian 

For  this  disaster  circled  round  with  sorrow, 

Yet  mindful  of  the  wrong.     Their  future  fortunes 

We  will  present  in  Action  ;    and  are  bold, 

In  that  which  follows,  that  the  most  shall  say, 

'Twas  well  begun,  but  the  End  crowned  the  Play. 

[Exit. 

SCENE   II. 

Enter  Diocles,  Niger,  Senators,  Guard. 

Dio.     Talk  not  of  comfort ;    I  have  broke  my  faith, 
And  the  gods  fight  against  me  ;   and  proud  man, 
However  magnified,  is  but  as  dust 
Before  the  raging  whirl-wind  of  their  justice. 
What  is  it  to  be  great  ?   ador'd  on  Earth  ? 
When  the  immortal  Powers  that  are  above  us 
Turn  all  our  Blessings  into  horrid  Curses, 

364 


Sc.  ii  THE    PROPHETESS 

And  laugh  at  our  resistance,  or  prevention 
Of  what  they  purpose  ?     O  the  Furies  that 
I  feel  within  me  !    whipt  on,  by  their  angers, 
For  my  tormentors.     Could  it  else  have  been 
In  Nature,  that  a  few  fugitive  Persians, 
Unfriended,  and  unarmed  too,  could  have  rob'd  me 
(In  Rome,  the  World's  Metropolis,  and  her  glory ; 
In  Rome,  where  I  command,  inviron'd  round 
With  such  invincible  Troops  that  know  no  fear, 
But  want  of  noble  Enemies)  of  those  jewels 
I  priz'd  above  my  life,  and  I  want  power 
To  free  them,  if  those  gods  I  have  provok'd 
Had  not  given  spirit  to  the  undertakers, 
And  in  their  deed  protected  'em  ? 

Nig.     Great  C&sar, 

Your  safety  does  confirm  you  are  their  care, 
And  that  howe'r  their  practices  reach  others, 
You  stand  above  their  malice. 

I  Sen.     Rome  in  us 

Offers  (as  means  to  further  your  revenge) 
The  lives  of  her  best  Citizens, 
And  all  they  stand  possess'd  of. 

1  Guard.     Do  but  lead  us  on 

With  that  invincible  and  undaunted  Courage 
Which  waited  bravely  on  you,  when  you  appear'd 
The  minion  of  Conquest ;    married  rather 
To  glorious  Victory,  and  we  will  drag 
(Though  all  the  Enemies  of  life  conspire 
Against  our  undertakings)  the  proud  Persian, 
Out  of  his  strongest  hold. 

2  Guard.     Be  but  your  self, 
And  do  not  talk  but  do. 

3  Guard.     You  have  hands  and  swords, 
Limbs  to  make  up  a  well  proportion'd  Army, 
That  only  want  in  you  an  Head  to  lead  us. 

Dio.     The  gods  reward  your  goodness;    and  believe, 
Howe'r  (for  some  great  sin)  I  am  mark't  out 
The  object  of  their  hate,  though  Jove  stood  ready 
To  dart  his  three-fold  thunder  on  this  head, 
It  could  not  fright  me  from  a  fierce  pursuit 

365 


THE    PROPHETESS          ACT  iv 

Of  my  revenge ;    I  will  redeem  my  friends, 
And  with  my  friends  mine  honour  ;   at  least  fall 
Like  to  my  self,  a  Souldier. 

Nig.     Now  we  hear 
Great  Dioclesian  speak. 

Dio.     Draw  up  our  Legions, 
And  let  it  be  your  care  (my  much  lov'd  Niger) 
To  hasten  the  remove ;    And,  fellow  Souldiers, 
Your  love  to  me  will  teach  you  to  endure 
Both  long  and  tedious  Marches. 

I  Guard.     Dye  he  accurs'd 
That  thinks  of  rest  or  sleep,  before  he  sets 
His  foot  on  Pm/W-Earth. 

Nig.     We  know  our  glory; 
The  dignity  of  Rome^  and  what's  above 
All  can  be  urg'd,  the  quiet  of  your  mind 
Depends  upon  our  haste. 

Dio.     Remove  to  night ; 
Five  days  shall  bring  me  to  you. 

All.     Happiness 
To  Ceesar^  and  glorious  victory.  [Exeunt. 

Dio.     The  cheerfulness  of  my  Souldiers  gives  assurance 
Of  good  success  abroad ;    if  first  I  make 
My  peace  at  home  here.     There  is  something  chides  me, 
And  sharply  tells  me,  that  my  breach  of  faith 
To  Delphia  and  Drusilla^  is  the  ground 
Of  my  misfortunes;    And  I  must  remember, 
While  I  was  lov'd,  and  in  great  Delphia's  Grace, 
She  was  as  my  good  Angel,  and  bound  Fortune 
To  prosper  my  designs  ;    I  must  appease  her  ; 
Let  others  pay  their  Knees,  their  Vows,  their  Prayers 
To  weak  imagin'd  Powers;    She  is  my  All, 
And  thus  I  do  invoke  her.     Knowing  Delphiay 
Thou  more  than  Woman,  and  though  thou  vouchsafest 
To  grace  the  Earth  with  thy  celestial  Steps, 
And  taste  this  grosser  air,  thy  heavenly  Spirit 
Hath  free  access  to  all  the  secret  Counsels 
Which  a  full  Senate  of  the  gods  determine 
When  they  consider  man  :    The  brass  leav'd  Book 
Of  Fate  lies  open  to  thee,  where  thou  read'st, 
366 


Sc.  ii  THE    PROPHETESS 

And  fashionest  the  destinies  of  men 

At  thy  wish'd  pleasures ;    Look  upon  thy  creature, 

And  as  thou  twice  hast  pleased  to  appear 

To  reprehend  my  falshood,  now  vouchsafe 

To  see  my  low  submission.          [Delphia  and  Drusilla  appear. 

Del.     What's  thy  Will  ? 

False,  and  unthankful,  (and  in  that  deserving 
All  humane  sorrows)  darst  thou  hope  from  me 
Relief  or  Comfort  ? 

Dio.     Penitence  does  appease 
Th'  incensed  Powers,  and  Sacrifice  takes  off 
Their  heavy  angers  ;    thus  I  tender  both  ; 
The  Master  of  great  Romey  and  in  that,  Lord 
Of  all  the  Sun  gives  heat  and  being  to, 
Thus  sues  for  mercy  ;  •  Be  but  as  thou  wert, 
The  Pilot  to  the  Bark  of  my  good  fortunes, 
And  once  more  steer  my  actions  to  the  Port 
Of  glorious  Honour,  and  if  I  fall  off 
Hereafter  from  my  faith  to  this  sweet  Virgin, 
Joyn  with  those  Powers  that  punish  perjury, 
To  make  me  an  example  to  deter 
Others  from  being  false. 

Dru.     Upon  my  soul, 

You  may  believe  him  ;    nor  did  he  e'r  purpose 
To  me  but  nobly  ;    he  made  tryal  how 
I  could  endure  unkindness ;    I  see  Truth 
Triumphant  in  his  sorrow.     Dearest  Aunt, 
Both  credit  him,  and  help  him  ;    and  on  assurance 
That  what  I  plead  for,  you  cannot  deny, 
I  raise  him  thus,  and  with  this  willing  kiss 
I  seal  his  pardon. 

Dio.     O  that  I  e'r  lookt 
Beyond  this  abstract  of  all  womans  goodness. 

Del.     I  am  thine  again  ;    thus  I  confirm  our  league ; 
I  know  thy  wishes,  and  how  much  thou  suffer'st 
In  honour  for  thy  friends ;    thou  shalt  repair  all ; 
For  to  thy  Fleet  I'll  give  a  fore-right  wind 
To  pass  the  Persian  Gulf;    remove  all  lets 
That  may  molest  thy  Souldiers  in  their  March 
That  pass  by  land,  and  destiny  is  false, 

367 


THE   PROPHETESS         ACT  iv 

If  thou  prove  not  vi&orious  ;   Yet  remember, 
When  thou  art  rais'd  up  to  the  highest  point 
Of  humane  happiness,  such  as  move  beyond  it 
Must  of  necessity  descend.     Think  on't, 
And  use  those  Blessings  that  the  gods  pour  on  you 
With  moderation. 

Dio.     As  their  Oracle 

I  hear  you,  and  obey  you,  and  will  follow 
Your  grave  directions. 

Del.     You  will  not  repent  it.  [Exeunt. 

SCENE   III. 

Enter  Niger,  Geta,  Guard,  Souldlers,  Ensigns. 

Nig.     How  do  you  like  your  entrance  to  the  War? 
When  the  whole  Body  of  the  Army  moves, 
Shews  it  not  gloriously  ? 

Get.     'Tis  a  fine  May-game ; 
But  eating  and  drinking  I  think  are  forbad  in't, 
(I  mean,  with  leisure)  we  walk  on,  and  feed 
Like  hungry  Boys  that  haste  to  School ;    or  as 
We  carried  Fish  to  the  City,  dare  stay  no  where,  . 
For  fear  our  ware  should  stink. 

i   Guard.     That's  the  necessity 
Of  our  speedy  March. 

Get.     Sir,  I  do  love  my  ease, 
And  though  I  hate  all  Seats  of  Judicature, 
I  mean  in  the  City,  for  conveniency, 
I  still  will  be  a  Justice  in  the  War, 
And  ride  upon  my  foot- cloth.     I  hope  a  Captain 
(And  a  gown'd-Captain  too)  may  be  dispenc'd  with. 
I  tell  you,  and  do  not  mock  me,  when  I  was  poor, 
I  could  endure  like  others,  cold  and  hunger  ; 
But  since  I  grew  rich,  let  but  my  finger  ake, 
Or  feel  but  the  least  pain  in  my  great  Toe, 
Unless  I  have  a  Doftor,  mine  own  Doftor, 
That  may  assure  me,  I  am  gone. 

Nig.     Come,  fear  not  5 
You  shall  want  nothing. 

i  Guard.     We  will  make  you  fight, 


Sc.  iv  THE   PROPHETESS 

As  you  were  mad. 

Get.     Not  too  much  of  fighting,  friend  ; 
It  is  thy  trade,  that  art  a  common  Souldier ; 
We  Officers,  by  our  place,  may  share  the  spoil, 
And  never  sweat  for't. 

2  Guard.     You  shall  kill  for  practice 
But  your  dozen  or  two  a  day. 

Get.     Thou  talkst  as  if 

Thou  wert  lousing  thy  self;   but  yet  I  will  make  danger, 
If  I  prove  one  of  the  Worthies,  so ;    However, 
I'll  have  the  fear  of  the  gods  before  my  eyes, 
And  do  no  hurt  I  warrant  you. 

Nig.     Come,  march  on, 
And  humour  him  for  our  mirth. 

i  Guard.     'Tis  a  fine  peak-Goose. 

Nig.     But  one  that  fools  to  the  Emperour,  and  in  that, 
A  wise  man,  and  a  Souldier. 

I  Guard.     True  morality.  [Exeunt. 

SCENE   IV. 

Enter  Cosroe,  Cassana,  Persians ;   and  Charinus,  Maximinian, 
Aurelia,  bound^  with  Souldiers. 

Cos.     Now  by  the  Persian  gods,  most  truly  welcome, 
Encompass'd  thus  with  tributary  Kings, 
I  entertain  you.     Lend  your  helping  hands 
To  seat  her  by  me  ;    and  thus  rais'd,  bow  all 
To  do  her  honour  ;    O  my  best  Cassana, 
Sister,  and  Partner  of  my  Life  and  Empire, 
We'll  teach  thee  to  forget  with  present  pleasures 
Thy  late  Captivity ;    and  this  proud  Roman, 
That  us'd  thee  as  a  Slave,  and  did  disdain 
A  Princely  Ransome,  shall,  if  she  repine, 
Be  forc'd  by  various  Tortures,  to  adore 
What  she  of  late  contemn'd. 

Cas.     All  greatness  ever 
Attend  Cosroe  ;    though  Persia  be  styl'd 
The  Nurse  of  Pomp  and  Pride,  we'll  leave  to  Rome 
Her  native  Cruelty.     For  know,  Aurelia^ 
A  Roman  Princess,  and  a  Caesars  Sister 

B.-F.  v.  A  A  369 


THE   PROPHETESS          ACT  iv 

Though  late,  like  thee  captiv'd,  I  can  forget 
Thy  barbarous  usage  ;    and  though  thou  to  me 
(When  I  was  in  thy  power)  didst  shew  thy  self, 
A  most  insulting  Tyranness,  I  to  thee 
May  prove  a  gentle  Mistriss. 

Aur.     O  my  Stars, 

A  Mistriss  ?   can  I  live  and  owe  that  name 
To  flesh  and  blood  ?     I  was  born  to  command, 
Train'd  up  in  Soveraignty  ;    and  I,  in  death 
Can  quit  the  name  of  Slave ;    she  that  scorns  life, 
May  mock  Captivity. 

Char.     Rome  will  be  Rome 

When  we  are  nothing ;   and  her  power's  the  same 
Which  you  once  quak'd  at. 

Max.     Diocleslan  lives ; 

Hear  it  and  tremble  ;    Lives  (thou  King  of  Persia) 
The  Master  of  his  Fortune,  and  his  Honour  ; 
And  though  by  devilish  arts  we  were  surpriz'd, 
And  made  the  prey  of  Magick  and  of  Theft, 
And  not  won  nobly,  we  shall  be  redeemed, 
And  by  a  Roman  War  ;    and  every  wrong 
We  suffer  here,  with  interest,  be  return'd 
On  the  insulting  doer. 

1  Per.     Sure  these  Romans 
Are  more  than  men. 

2  Per.     Their  great  hearts  will  not  yield, 
They  cannot  bend  to  any  adverse  Fate, 
Such  is  their  Confidence. 

Cos.     They  then  shall  break. 
Why,  you  rebellious  Wretches,  dare  you  still 
Contend  when  the  last  breath,  or  nod  of  mine 
Marks  you  out  for  the  fire  ?   or  to  be  made 
The  prey  of  Wolves  or  Vulturs  ?   the  vain  name 
Of  Roman  Legions,  I  slight  thus,  and  scorn  ; 
And  for  that  boasted  bug  bear,  Diocletian, 
(Which  you  presume  on)  would  he  were  the  master 
But  of  the  spirit,  to  meet  me  in  the  field, 
He  soon  should  find  that  our  immortal  Squadrons, 
That  with  full  numbers  ever  are  supply'd, 
(Could  it  be  possible  they  should  decay) 

370 


Sc.  iv  THE    PROPHETESS 

Dare  front  his  boldest  Troops,  and  scatter  him, 

As  an  high  towring  Falcon  on  her  stretches, 

Severs  the  fearful  fowl.     And  by  the  Sun, 

The  Moon,  the  Winds,  the  nourishers  of  life, 

And  by  this  Sword,  the  instrument  of  death, 

Since  that  you  fly  not  humbly  to  our  mercy 

But  yet  dare  hope  your  liberty  by  force ; 

If  Dioclesian  dare  not  attempt 

To  free  you  with  his  Sword,  all  slavery 

That  cruelty  can  find  out  to  make  you  wretched, 

Falls  heavy  on  you. 

Max.     If  the  Sun  keep  his  course, 
And  the  Earth  can  bear  his  Souldiers  march,  I  fear  not. 

Aur.     Or  liberty,  or  revenge. 

Char.     On  that  I  build  too.  \_A  Trumpet. 

Aur.     A  Roman  Trumpet  ! 

Max.     'Tis;    comes  it  not  like 
A  pardon  to  a  man  condemned  ? 

Cos.     Admit  him. 

Enter  Niger. 

The  purpose  of  thy  coming  ? 

Nig.     My  great  Master, 

The  Lord  of  Rome,  (in  that  all  Power  is  spoken) 
Hoping  that  thou  wilt  prove  a  noble  Enemy, 
And  (in  thy  bold  resistance)  worth  his  conquest, 
Defies  thee,  Cosroe. 

Max.     There  is  fire  in  this. 

Ntg.     And  to  encourage  thy  laborious  powers 
To  tug  for  Empire,  dares  thee  to  the  field, 
With  this  assurance,  if  thy  Sword  can  win  him, 
Or  force  his  Legions  with  thy  barbed  horse, 
But  to  forsake  their  ground,  that  not  alone 
Wing'd  Victory  shall  take  stand  on  thy  Tent, 
But  all  the  Provinces,  and  Kingdoms  held 
By  the  Roman  Garrisons  in  this  Eastern  World, 
Shall  be  deliver' d  up,  and  he  himself 
Acknowledge  thee  his  Sovereign.     In  return 
Of  this  large  offer,  he  asks  only  this, 
That  till  the  doubtful  Die  of  War  determine 

AA2  371 


THE   PROPHETESS          ACT  iv 

Who  has  most  power,  and  should  command  the  other, 
Thou  wouldst  entreat  thy  Prisoners  like  their  Births, 
And  not  their  present  Fortune  ;   and  to  bring  'em, 
Guarded,  into  thy  Tent,  with  thy  best  strengths, 
Thy  ablest  men  of  War,  and  thou  thy  self 
Sworn  to  make  good  the  place.     And  if  he  fail 
(Maugre  all  opposition  can  be  made) 
In  his  own  person  to  compel  his  way, 
And  fetch  them  safely  off,  the  day  is  thine, 
And  he,  like  these,  thy  Prisoner. 

Cos.     Though  I  receive  this 
But  as  a  Roman  Brave,  I  do  embrace  it, 
And  love  the  sender.     Tell  him,  I  will  bring 
My  Prisoners  to  the  field,  and  without  odds, 
Against  his  single  force,  alone  defend  'em ; 
Or  else  with  equal  numbers.     Courage,  noble  Princes, 
And  let  Posterity  record,  that  we 
This  memorable  day  restor'd  to  Persia, 
That  Empire  of  the  World,  great  Philip's  Son, 
Ravish'd  from  us,  and  Greece  gave  up  to  Rome. 
This  our  strong  comfort,  that  we  cannot  fall 
Ingloriously,  since  we  contend  for  all.  [Exeunt. 

[Flourish.     Alarms. 

SCENE   V. 

Enter  Geta,  Guard,  Souldiers. 

Get.     I'll  swear  the  Peace  against  'em,  I  am  hurt, 
Run  for  a  Surgeon,  or  I  faint. 

1  Guard.     Bear  up,  man, 
'Tis  but  a  scratch. 

Get.     Scoring  a  man  o'r  the  Coxcomb 

Is  but  a  scratch  with  you  !  o'  your  occupation, 

Your  scurvy  scuffling  trade  ;    I  was  told  before 
My  face  was  bad  enough ;    but  now  I  look 
Like  bloody  Bone,  and  raw  head,  to  fright  Children  ; 
I  am  for  no  use  else. 

2  Guard.     Thou  shalt  fright  men. 

I  Guard.     You  look  so  terrible  now  ;    but  see  your  face 
In  the  Pummel  of  my  Sword. 

372 


Sc.  v  THE    PROPHETESS 

Get.     I  dye,  I  am  gone. 
Oh  my  sweet  physiognomy. 

Enter  three  Persians. 

2  Guard.     They  come, 
Now  fight,  or  dye  indeed. 

Get.     I  will  'scape  this  way  ; 
I  cannot  hold  my  Sword  ;    what  would  you  have 
Of  a  maim'd  man  ? 

1  Guard.     Nay,  then  I  have  a  goad 
To  prick  you  forward,  Oxe. 

2  Guard.     Fight  like  a  Man, 
Or  dye  like  a  Dog. 

Get.     Shall  I,  like  C<esar,  fall 
Among  my  friends  ?   no  mercy  ?     Et  tu  Brute  ? 
You  shall  not  have  the  honour  of  my  death, 
I'll  fall  by  the  Enemy  first. 

I  Guard.     O  brave,  brave  Geta,  [Persians  driven  off. 

He  plays  the  Devil  now. 

Enter  Niger. 

Nig.     Make  up  for  honour, 

The  Persians  shrink.     The  passage  is  laid  open, 
Great  Diocletian,  like  a  second  Marsy 
His  strong  arm  govern'd  by  the  fierce  Bellona, 
Performs  more  than  a  man  ;    his  shield  struck  full 
Of  Persian  Darts,  which  now  are  his  defence 
Against  the  Enemies  Swords,  still  leads  the  way. 
Of  all  the  Persian  Forces,  one  strong  Squadron, 

[Alarm's  continued. 

In  which  Cosroe  in  his  own  person  fights, 
Stands  firm,  and  yet  unrouted  ;    Break  thorow  that, 
The  day,  and  all  is  ours.  [Retreat. 

All     Viftory,  Viftory.  [Exeunt.     Flourish. 


373 


THE   PROPHETESS          ACT  iv 


SCENE  VI. 

Enter,  in  Triumph  with  Roman   Ensigns,   Guard,  Dioclesian, 

Charinus,  Aurelia,  Maximinian,  Niger,  Geta,  Cosroe, 

Cassana,  Persians,  as  Prisoners ;    Delphia,  and 

Drusilla,  privately. 

Dio.     I  am  rewarded  in  the  Aft  ;    your  freedome 
To  me's  ten  thousand  Triumphs  ;    You  Sir,  share, 
In  all  my  glories.     And  unkind  Aurelia, 
From  being  a  Captive,  still  command  the  Viftor. 
Nephew,  remember  by  whose  gift  you  are  free  ; 
You  I  afford  my  pity  ;    baser  minds 
Insult  on  the  afflifted,  you  shall  know, 
Vertue  and  Courage  are  admir'd  and  lov'd 
In  Enemies  ;    but  more  of  that  hereafter. 
Thanks  to  your  valour  ;    to  your  Swords  I  owe 
This  Wreath  triumphant.     Nor  be  thou  forgot 
My  first  poor  Bondman,  Geta,  I  am  glad 
Thou  art  turn'd  a  fighter. 

Get.     'Twas  against  my  will ; 
But  now  I  am  content  with't. 

Char.     But  imagine 

What  honours  can  be  done  to  you  beyond  these, 
Transcending  all  example ;    'tis  in  you 
To  will,  in  us  to  serve  it. 

Nig.     We  will  have 

His  Statue  of  pure  gold  set  in  the  Capitol, 
And  he  that  bows  not  to  it  as  a  god, 
Makes  forfeit  of  his  head. 

A4ax.     I  burst  with  envy  ; 

And  yet  these  honours,  which  conferred  on  me, 
Would  make  me  pace  on  air,  seem  not  to  move  him. 

Dio.     Suppose  this  done,  or  were  it  possible 
I  could  rise  higher  still,  I  am  a  man, 
And  all  these  glories,  Empires  heap'd  upon  me, 
Confirm'd  by  constant  friends,  and  faithful  Guards, 
Cannot  defend  me  from  a  shaking  Feaver, 
Or  bribe  the  uncorrupted  Dart  of  Death 
To  spare  me  one  short  minute.     Thus  adorn'd 

374 


Sc.  vi  THE    PROPHETESS 

In  these  triumphant  Robes,  my  body  yields  not 

A  greater  shadow,  than  it  did  when  I 

Liv'd  both  poor  and  obscure  ;    a  Swords  sharp  point 

Enters  my  flesh  as  far  ;   dreams  break  my  sleep 

As  when  I  was  a  private  man  ;    my  passions 

Are  stronger  tyrants  on  me  ;    nor  is  Greatness 

A  saving  Antidote  to  keep  me  from 

A  Traytors  poyson.     Shall  I  praise  my  fortune, 

Or  raise  the  building  of  my  happiness 

On  her  uncertain  favour  ?    or  presume 

She  is  mine  own,  and  sure,  that  yet  was  never 

Constant  to  any  ?     Should  my  reason  fail  me 

(As  flattery  oft  corrupts  it)  here's  an  example, 

To  speak  how  far  her  smiles  are  to  be  trusted  ; 

The  rising  Sun,  this  morning,  saw  this  man 

The  Persian  Monarch,  and  those  Subjects  proud 

That  had  the  honour  but  to  kiss  his  feet ; 

And  yet  e're  his  diurnal  progress  ends, 

He  is  the  scorn  of  Fortune  :    but  you'll  say, 

That  she  forsook  him  for  his  want  of  courage, 

But  never  leaves  the  bold.     Now  by  my  hopes 

Of  peace  and  quiet  here,  I  never  met 

A  braver  Enemy  ;    and  to  make  it  good, 

Cosroe,  Castanet^  and  the  rest,  be  free, 

And  ransomless  return. 

Cos.     To  see  this  vertue 
Is  more  to  me  than  Empire  ;    and  to  be 
O'rcome  by  you,  a  glorious  victory. 

Max.     What  o'  Devil  means  he  next  ? 

Dlo.     I  know  that  glory 
Is  like  Alcides's  Shirt,  if  it  stay  on  us 
Till  pride  hath  mixt  it  with  our  blood ;    nor  can  we 
Part  with  it  at  pleasure  :    when  we  would  uncase, 
It  brings  along  with  it  both  flesh  and  sinews, 
And  leaves  us  living  Monsters. 

Max.     Would  it  were  come 
To  my  turn  to  put  it  on  :    I'd  run  the  hazard. 

Dio.     No,  I  will  not  be  pluck'd  out  by  the  ears 
Out  of  this  glorious  Castle  ;    uncompell'd 
I  will  surrender  rather  ;    Let  it  suffice 

375 


THE   PROPHETESS          ACT  iv 

I  have  toucht  the  height  of  humane  happiness, 

And  here  I  fix  nil  ultra.     Hitherto 

I  have  liv'd  a  servant  to  ambitious  thoughts, 

And  fading  glories  ;    what  remains  of  life, 

I  dedicate  to  Vertue  ;   and  to  keep 

My  faith  untainted,  farewel  Pride  and  Pomp, 

And  circumstance  of  glorious  Majestic, 

Farewel  for  ever.     Nephew,  I  have  noted, 

That  you  have  long  with  sore  eyes  look'd  upon 

My  flourishing  Fortune  ;    you  shall  have  possession 

Of  my  felicity ;    I  deliver  up 

My  Empire,  and  this  gem  I  priz'd  above  it, 

And  all  things  else  that  made  me  worth  your  envy, 

Freely  unto  you.     Gentle  Sir,  your  suffrage, 

To  strengthen  this  ;    the  Souldiers  love  I  doubt  not ; 

His  valour,  Gentlemen,  will  deserve  your  favours, 

Which  let  my  prayers  further.     All  is  yours ; 

But  I  have  been  too  liberal,  and  giv'n  that 

I  must  beg  back  again. 

Max.     What  am  I  fain  from  ! 

Dio.     Nay,  start  not ;    it  is  only  the  poor  Grange, 
The  Patrimony  which  my  father  left  me, 
I  would  be  Tenant  to. 

Max.     Sir,  I  am  yours ; 
I  will  attend  you  there. 

Dio.     No,  keep  the  Court ; 
Seek  you  in  Rome  for  honour  :    I  will  labour 
To  find  content  elswhere.     Disswade  me  not, 

By  ,  I  am  resolv'd.     And  now  Drusilla, 

Being  as  poor  as  when  I  vow'd  to  make  thee 
My  wife,  if  thy  love  since  hath  felt  no  change, 
I  am  ready  to  perform  it. 

Dru.     I  still  lov'd 

Your  Person,  not  your  fortunes  :    in  a  cottage, 
Being  yours,  I  am  an  Empress. 

Del.     And  Fie  make 
The  change  most  happy. 

Dio.     Do  me  then  the  honour, 
To  see  my  vow  perform'd.     You  but  attend 
My  Glories  to  the  urn  ;    where  be  it  ashes, 

376 


ACT  v  THE    PROPHETESS 

Welcom  my  mean  estate  :    and  as  a  due, 

Wish  rest  to  me,  I  honour  unto  you.  [Exeunt. 

Attus  Quintus.     Scena  Prima. 

Enter   CHORUS. 

Cho.      The  War  with  glory  ended-,    and  Cosroe 
(Acknowledging  his  fealtie  to  CharinusJ 
Dismissed  in  peace,  returns  to  Persia  : 
The  rest,  arriving  safely  unto  Rome, 
Are  entertained  with  triumphs  :    Maximinian, 
By  the  grace  and  intercession  of  his    Uncle, 
Saluted  Caesar  :   but  good  Dioclesian, 
Weary  of  Pomp  and  State,  retires  himself 
With  a  small  Train,  to  a  most  private  Grange 
In  Lom bardie ;    where  the  glad  Countrey  strives 
With  Rural  Sports  to  give  him  entertainment : 
With  which  delighted,  he  with  ease  forgets 
All  specious  trifles,  and  securely  tastes 
The  certain  pleasures  of  a  private  life. 
But  oh  Ambition,  that  eats  into 
With  venom' d  teeth,  true  thankfulness,  and  honour, 
And  to  support  her  greatness,  fashions  fears, 
Doubts,  and  preventions  to  decline  all  dangers, 
Which  in  the  place  of  safetie,  prove  her  mine : 
All  which  be  pleased  to  see  in  Maximinian, 
To  whom,  his  confer'd  Sovera\ignt\y  was  like 
A  large  sail  fill  d  full  with  a  fore-right  wind, 
That  drowns  a  smaller  Bark:    and  he  once  fain 
Into  ingratitude,  makes  no  stop  in  mischief, 
But  violently  runs  on.     Allow  Maximinian  all, 
Honour,  and  Empire,  absolute  command', 
Yet  being  ill,  long  great  he  cannot  stand.  [Exit. 

SCENE   II. 

Enter  Maximinian,  and  Aurelia. 

Aur.     Why  droops  my  Lord,  my  Love,  my  life,  my  Casar  ? 
How  ill  this  dulness  doth  comport  with  greatness  ! 
Does  not  (with  open  arms)  your  fortune  court  you? 

377 


THE   PROPHETESS  ACT  v 

Rome  know  you  for  her  Master,  I  my  self 
Confess  you  for  my  husband  ?   love,  and  serve  you  ? 
If  you  contemn  not  these,  and  think  them  curses, 
I  know  no  blessings  that  ambitious  flesh 
Could  wish  to  feel  beyond  'em. 

Max.     Best  Aurelia, 

The  parent  and  the  nurse  to  all  my  Glories, 
'Tis  not  that  thus  embracing  you,  I  think 
There  is  a  Heaven  beyond  it,  that  begets 
These  sad  retirements  ;    but  the  fear  to  lose 
What  it  is  hell  to  part  with  :    better  to  have  liv'd 
Poor  and  obscure,  and  never  scal'd  the  top 
Of  hilly  Empire,  than  to  die  with  fear 
To  be  thrown  headlong  down,  almost  as  soon 
As  we  have  reach'd  it. 

Aur.     These  are  Pannick  terrours 
You  fashion  to  your  self:    Is  not  my  Brother 
(Your  equal  and  copartner  in  the  Empire) 
Vow'd  and  confirm'd  your  friend  ?    the  Souldier  constant  ? 
Hath  not  your  Uncle  Diocletian  taken 
His  last  farewel  o'th'  world  ?     What  then  can  shake  ye  ? 

Max.     The  thought  I  may  be  shaken  :    and  assurance 
That  what  we  do  possess  is  not  our  own, 
But  has  depending  on  anothers  favour : 
For  nothing's  more  uncertain  (my  Aurelid) 
Than  power  that  stands  not  on  his  proper  Basis, 
But  borrows  his  foundation.     I'le  make  plain 
My  cause  of  doubts  and  fears ;    for  what  should  I 
Conceal  from  you,  that  are  to  be  familiar 
With  my  most  private  thoughts  ?     Is  not  the  Empire 
My  Uncles  gift?   and  may  he  not  resume  it 
Upon  the  least  distaste  ?     Does  not  Charinus 
Cross  me  in  my  designs  ?     And  what  is  Majestic 
When  'tis  divided  ?     Does  not  the  insolent  Souldier 
Call  my  command  his  donative  ?     And  what  can  take 
More  from  our  honour  ?     No  (my  wise  Aurelia^) 
If  I  to  you  am  more  than  all  the  world, 
As  sure  you  are  to  me;    as  we  desire 
To  be  secure,  we  must  be  absolute, 
And  know  no  equal :    when  your  Brother  borrows 

378 


Sc.  ii  THE   PROPHETESS 

The  little  splendor  that  he  has  from  us, 
And  we  are  serv'd  for  fear,  not  at  entreaty, 
We  may  live  safe  ;    but  till  then,  we  but  walk 
With  heavie  burthens  on  a  sea  of  glass, 
And  our  own  weight  will  sink  us. 

Aur.     Your  Mother  brought  you 
Into  the  world  an  Emperour :    you  perswade 
But  what  I  would  have  counselled :    Nearness  of  blood, 
Respect  of  pietie,  and  thankfulness, 
And  all  the  holy  dreams  of  vertuous  fools 
Must  vanish  into  nothing,  when  Ambition 
(The  maker  of  great  minds,  and  nurse  of  honour) 
Puts  in  for  Empire.     On  then,  and  forget 
Your  simple  Uncle  ;    think  he  was  the  Master 
(In  being  once  an  Emperour)  of  a  Jewel, 
Whose  worth  and  use  he  knew  not :    For  Charinus9 
No  more  my  Brother,  if  he  be  a  stop 
To  what  you  purpose  ;    he  to  Me's  a  stranger, 
And  so  to  be  remov'd. 

Max.     Thou  more  than  woman, 
Thou  masculine  Greatness,  to  whose  soaring  spirit 
To  touch  the  stars  seems  but  an  easie  flight ; 
O  how  I  glory  in  thee  !    those  great  women 
Antiquitie  is  proud  of,  thou  but  nam'd, 
Shall  be  no  more  remembred  :    but  persevere, 
And  thou  shalt  shine  among  those  lesser  lights, 

Enter  Charinus,  Niger,  Guard. 

To  all  posteritie  like  another  Phebey 
And  so  ador'd  as  she  is. 

Aur.     Here's  Cbarinus, 
His  brow  furrow'd  with  anger. 

Max.     Let  him  storm, 
And  you  shall  hear  me  thunder. 

Cha.     He  dispose  of 

My  Provinces  at  his  pleasure  ?   and  confer 
Those  honours  (that  are  only  mine  to  give) 
Upon  his  creatures  ? 

Nig.     Mighty  Sir,  ascribe  it 
To  his  assurance  of  your  love  and  favour, 

379 


THE   PROPHETESS  ACT  v 

And  not  to  pride  or  malice. 

Cha.     No,  good  Nigery 

Courtesie  shall  not  fool  me  ;    he  shall  know 
I  lent  a  hand  to  raise  him,  and  defend  him, 
While  he  continues  good  :    but  the  same  strength 
If  pride  make  him  usurp  upon  my  Right, 
Shall  strike  him  to  the  Center.     You  are  well  met,  Sir. 

Max.     As  you  make  the  Encounter:    Sir,  I  hear, 
That  you  repine,  and  hold  your  self  much  griev'd, 
In  that,  without  your  good  leave,  I  bestow'd 
The  Gallian  Proconsulship  upon 
A  follower  of  mine. 

Cha.     'Tis  true  :    and  wonder 
You  durst  attempt  it. 

Max.     Durst,   Charinus  ? 

Cha.     Durst : 

Again,  I  speak  it :    Think  you  me  so  tame, 
So  leaden  and  unactive,  to  sit  down 
With  such  dishonour  ?     But,  recal  your  grant, 

And  speedily  ;    or  by  the  Roman 

Thou  tripst  thine  own  heels  up,  and  hast  no  part 
In  Rome,  or  in  the  Empire. 

Max.     Thou  hast  none, 
But  by  permission  :    Alas,  poor  Charmus, 
Thou  shadow  of  an  Emperour,  I  scorn  thee, 
Thee,  and  thy  foolish  threats :    the  gods  appoint  him 
The  absolute  disposer  of  the  Earth, 
That  has  the  sharpest  sword.     I  am  sure,  Charmus, 
Thou  wear'st  one  without  edge.     When  cruel  Aper 
Had  kill'd  Numerianus,  thy  Brother, 
(An  act  that  would  have  made  a  trembling  coward 
More  daring  than  Alcides]  thy  base  fear 
Made  thee  wink  at  it :    then  rose  up  my  Uncle 
(For  the  honour  of  the  Empire,  and  of  Rome] 
Against  the  Traitor,  and  among  his  Guards 
Punish'd  the  treason  :     This  bold  daring  a6l 
Got  him  the  Souldiers  suffrages  to  be  Ctesar. 
And  howsoever  his  too  gentle  nature 
Allow'd  thee  the  name  only,  as  his  gift, 
I  challenge  the  succession. 

380 


Sc.  in  THE   PROPHETESS 

Cha.     Thou  ar[t]  cozen'd. 
When  the  receiver  of  a  courtesie 
Cannot  sustain  the  weight  it  carries  with  it, 
'Tis  but  a  Trial,  not  a  present  Act. 
Thou  hast  in  a  few  dayes  of  thy  short  Reign, 
In  over- weening  pride,  riot  and  lusts, 
Sham'd  noble  Diocletian,  and  his  gift : 
Nor  doubt  I,  when  it  shall  arrive  unto 
His  certain  knowledge,  how  the  Empire  groans 
Under  thy  Tyranny,  but  he  will  forsake 
His  private  life,  and  once  again  resume 
His  laid-by  Majestic  :    or  at  least,  make  choice 
Of  such  an  Atlas  as  may  bear  this  burthen, 
Too  heavie  for  thy  shoulders.     To  effect  this, 
Lend  your  assistance,  Gentlemen,  and  then  doubt  not 
But  that  this  mushroom  (sprung  up  in  a  night) 
Shall  as  soon  wither.     And  for  you,  Aurelia, 
If  you  esteem  your  honour  more  than  tribute 
Paid  to  your  loathsome  appetite,  as  a  Furie 
Flie  from  his  loose  embraces  :    so  farewel ; 
E're  long  you  shall  hear  more.  [Exeunt. 

Aur.     Are  you  struck  dumb, 
That  you  make  no  reply  ? 

Max.     Sweet,  I  will  do, 
And  after  talk  :    I  will  prevent  their  plots, 
And  turn  them  on  their  own  accursed  heads. 
My  Uncle  ?    good  :    I  must  not  know  the  names 
Of  Pietie  or  Pitie.     Steel  my  heart, 
Desire  of  Empire,  and  instruct  me,  that 
The  Prince  that  over  others  would  bear  sway, 
Checks  at  no  Let  that  stops  him  in  his  way.  [Exeunt. 

SCENE  III. 

Enter  three  Shepherds,  and  two  Countreymen. 

1  Shep.     Do  you  think  this  great  man  will  continue  here  ? 

2  Shep.     Continue   here  ?    what   else  ?    he   has   bought  the 
A  great  man,  with  a  great  Inheritance,  (great  Farm; 
And  all  the  ground  about  it,  all  the  woods  too  ; 

And  stock'd  it  like  an  Emperour.     Now,  all  our  sports  again 

381 


THE    PROPHETESS  ACT  v 

And  all  our  merry  Gambols,  our  may-Ladies, 
Our  evening-daunces  on  the  Green,  our  Songs, 
Our  Holiday  good  cheer,  our  Bag-pipes  now  Boyes, 
Shall  make  the  wanton  Lasses  skip  again, 
Our  Sheep-sheerings,  and  all  our  knacks. 

3  Shep.     But  hark  ye, 
We  must  not  call  him  Emperour. 

1  Countr.     That's  all  one ; 

He  is  the  King  of  good  fellows,  that's  no  treason  ; 

And  so  I'le  call  him  still,  though  I  be  hang'd  for't. 

I  grant  ye,  he  has  given  his  honour  to  another  man, 

He  cannot  give  his  humour  :    he  is  a  brave  fellow, 

And  will  love  us,  and  we'l  love  him.     Come  hither  Ladon, 

What  new  Songs,  and  what  geers  ? 

3  Shep.     Enough  :    I'le  tell  ye 
He  comes  abroad  anon  to  view  his  grounds, 
And  with  the  help  of  Thirsts,  and  old  Egon, 
(If  his  whorson  could  be  gon)  and  Amaryllis, 
And  some  few  more  o'th'  wenches,  we  will  meet  him, 
And  strike  him  such  new  springs,  and  such  free  welcoms, 
Shall  make  him  scorn  an  Empire,  forget  Majestic, 
And  make  him  bless  the  hour  he  liv'd  here  happy. 

2  Countr.     And  we  will  second  ye,  we  honest  Carters, 
We  lads  o'th'  lash,  with  some  blunt  entertainment, 

Our  Teams  to  two  pence,  will  give  him  some  content, 
Or  we'll  bawl  fearfully. 

3  Shep.     He  cannot  expecl:  now 

His  Courtly  entertainments,  and  his  rare  Musicks, 
And  Ladies  to  delight  him  with  their  voyces; 
Honest  and  cheerful  toyes  from  honest  meanings, 
And  the  best  hearts  they  have.     We  must  be  neat  all : 
On  goes  my  russet  jerkin  with  blue  buttons. 

i  Shep.    And  my  green  slops  I  was  married  in ;  my  bonnet 
With  my  carnation  point  with  Silver  tags,  boyes : 
You  know  where  I  won  it. 

i  Countr.     Thou  wilt  ne're  be  old,  Alexis. 

I  Shep.     And  I  shall  find  some  toyes  that  have  been  favors, 
And  nose-gayes,  and  such  knacks:  for  there  be  wenches. 

3  Shep.     My  mantle  goes  on  too  I  plaid  young  Paris  in, 
And  the  new  garters  Amaryllis  sent  me. 

382 


Sc.  in  THE    PROPHETESS 

1  Count.    Yes,  yes :  we'l  all  be  handsom,  and  wash  our  faces. 
Neighbour,  I  see  a  remnant  of  March  dust 

That's  hatched  into  your  chaps  :    I  pray  ye  be  carefull, 

Enter  Geta. 

And  mundifie  your  muzzel. 

2  Countr.     Tie  to  th'  Barbers, 

It  shall  cost  me  I  know  what.     Who's  this  ? 

3  Shep.     Give  room,  neighbours, 

A  great  man  in  our  State :    gods  bless  your  worship. 

2  Countr.     Encrease  your  Mastership. 
Get.     Thanks,  my  good  people : 

Stand  off,  and  know  your  duties :   as  I  take  it 

You  are  the  labouring  people  of  this  village, 

And  you  that  keep  the  sheep.     Stand  farther  off  yet, 

And  mingle  not  with  my  authoritie, 

I  am  too  mighty  for  your  companie. 

3  Shep.     We  know  it  Sir  ;   and  we  desire  your  worship 
To  reckon  us  amongst  your  humble  servants, 

And  that  our  Country  Sports,  Sir, — 

Get.     For  your  Sports,  Sir, 

They  may  be  seen,  when  I  shall  think  convenient, 
When  out  of  my  discretion,  I  shall  view  'em, 
And  hold  'em  fit  for  licence.     Ye  look  upon  me, 
And  look  upon  me  seriously,  as  ye  knew  me : 
'Tis  true,  I  have  been  a  Rascal,  as  you  are, 
A  fellow  of  no  mention,  nor  no  mark, 
Just  such  another  piece  of  durt,  so  fashion'd  : 
But  Time,  that  purifies  all  things  of  merit, 
Has  set  another  stamp.     Come  nearer  now, 
And  be  not  fearfull ;   I  take  off  my  austeritie  : 
And  know  me  for  the  great  and  mighty  Steward 
Under  this  man  of  honour :    know  ye  for  my  vassals, 
And  at  my  pleasure  I  can  dispeople  ye, 
Can  blow  you  and  your  cattel  out  o'th'  Country  : 
But  fear  me,  and  have  favour.     Come,  go  along  with  me, 
And  I  will  hear  your  Songs,  and  perhaps  like  'em. 

3  Shep.     I  hope  you  will,  Sir. 

Geta.     'Tis  not  a  thing  impossible, 
Perhaps  Fie  sing  my  self,  the  more  to  grace  ye, 

383 


THE   PROPHETESS  ACT  v 

And  if  I  like  your  women. 

3  Skep.     We'l  have  the  best,  Sir, 
Handsom  young  Girls. 

Geta.     The  handsomer,  the  better. 

Enter  Delphia. 

'May  bring  your  wives  too,  'twill  be  all  one  charge  to  yej 
For  I  must  know  your  families. 

Del.     'Tis  well  said, 

'Tis  well  said,  honest  friends;    I  know  ye  are  hatching 
Some  pleasurable  sports  for  your  great  Landlord  : 
Fill  him  with  joy,  and  win  him  a  friend  to  ye, 
And  make  this  little  Grange  seem  a  large  Empire, 
Let  out  with  home-contents  :    Tie  work  his  favour, 
Which  daily  shall  be  on  ye. 

3  Skep.     Then  we'l  sing  daily, 
And  make  him  the  best  Sports. 

Del.     Instruct  'em  Geta, 
And  be  a  merry  man  again. 

Geta.     Will  ye  lend  me  a  devil, 
That  we  may  dance  a  while  ? 

Del.     Tie  lend  thee  two. 
And  Bag-pipes  that  shall  blow  alone. 

Get.     I  thank  ye  : 

But  Tie  know  your  devils  of  a  cooler  complexion  first. 
Come,  follow,  follow  ;    Tie  go  sit  and  see  ye.  [Exeunt. 

Enter  Diocles,  and  Drusilla. 

Del.     Do;  and  be  ready  an  hour  hence,  and  bring  'em; 
For  in  the  Grove  you'l  find  him. 

Dio.     Come  Drusillay 

The  partner  of  my  best  contents :    I  hope  now 
You  dare  believe  me. 

Dru.     Yes,  and  dare  say  to  ye, 
I  think  ye  now  most  happie. 

Dio.     You  say  true,  Sweet, 

For  by  my  ,  I  find  now  by  experience, 

Content  was  never  Courtier. 

Dru.     I  pray  ye  walk  on,  Sir  ; 
The  cool  shades  of  the  Grove  invite  ye. 

384 


Sc.  HI 


THE   PROPHETESS 


Dio.     O  my  Dearest ! 

When  man  has  cast  off  his  ambitious  greatness, 
And  sunk  into  the  sweetness  of  himself; 
Built  his  foundation  upon  honest  thoughts, 
Not  great,  but  good  desires  his  daily  servants ; 
How  quie[t]ly  he  sleeps  !    how  joyfully 
He  wakes  again,  and  looks  on  his  possessions, 
And  from  his  willing  labours  feeds  with  pleasure  ? 
Here  hang  no  Comets  in  the  shapes  of  Crowns, 
To  shake  our  sweet  contents  :    nor  here,  Drusilla^ 
Cares,  like  Eclipses,  darken  our  endeavours  : 
We  love  here  without  rivals,  kiss  with  innocence  ; 
Our  thoughts  as  gentle  as  our  lips  ;    our  children 
The  double  heirs  both  of  our  forms  and  faiths. 

Dru.     I  am  glad  ye  make  this  right  use  of  this  sweetness, 
This  sweet  retiredness. 

Dio.     'Tis  sweet  indeed,  love, 
And  every  circumstance  about  it,  shews  it. 
How  liberal  is  the  spring  in  every  place  here  ? 
The  artificial  Court  shews  but  a  shadow, 
A  painted  imitation  of  this  glory. 
Smell  to  this  flower,  here  nature  has  her  excellence  : 
Let  all  the  perfumes  of  the  Empire  pass  this, 
The  carefulPst  Ladies  cheek  shew  such  a  colour, 
They  are  gilded  and  adulterate  vanities. 
And  here  in  Povertie  dwells  noble  nature. 
What  pains  we  take  to  cool  our  wines,  to  allay  us, 

[Mustek  below. 

And  bury  quick  the  fuming  god  to  quench  us, 
Methinks  this  Crystal  Well. — Ha  !    what  strange  Musick  ? 
'Tis  underneath,  sure  :    how  it  stirs  and  joys  me  ? 
How  all  the  birds  set  on  ?    the  fields  redouble 
Their  odoriferous  sweets?     Hark  how  the  echo's — 

Enter  a  Spirit  from  the  Well. 

Drus.     See,  Sir,  those  flowers 
From  out  the  Well,  spring  to  your  entertainment. 

Enter  Delphia. 
Dio.     Bless  me. 

B.-F.  V.  B  B  385 


THE    PROPHETESS  ACT  v 

Dru.     Be  not  afraid,  'tis  some  good  Angel 
That's  come  to  welcome  ye. 

Del.     Go  near  and  hear,  Son.  [SONG. 

Dio.     O  Mother,  thank  ye,  thank  ye,  this  was  your  will. 

Del.     You  shall  not  want  delights  to  bless  your  presence. 
Now  ye  are  honest,  all  the  Stars  shall  honour  ye. 

Enter  Shepherds  and  dancers. 

Stay,  here  are  Country-shepherds ;  here  is  some  sport  too, 
And  you  must  grace  it,  Sir  ;  'twas  meant  to  welcom  ye  ; 
A  King  shall  never  feel  your  joy.  Sit  down  Son. 

A  dance  of  Shepherds  and  Shepherdesses  ;    Pan  leading 
the  men,  Ceres  the  maids. 

Hold,  hold,  my  Messenger  appears  :    leave  off,  friends, 
Leave  off  a  while,  and  breathe. 

Dio.     What  news  ?    ye  are  pale,  Mother. 

Del.     No,  I  am  careful  of  thy  safety,  Son, 
Be  not  affrighted,  but  sit  still ;    I  am  with  thee. 

Enter  Maximinian,  Aurelia,  Souldiers. 

And  now  dance  out  your  dance.     Do  you  know  that  person? 
Be  not  amaz'd,  but  let  him  shew  his  dreadfullest. 

Max.     How  confident  he  sits  amongst  his  pleasures, 
And  what  a  chearful  colour  shews  in's  face, 
And  yet  he  sees  me  too,  the  Souldiers  with  me. 

Aur.     Be  speedie  in  your  work,  (you  will  be  stopt  else) 
And  then  you  are  an  Emperour. 

Max.     I  will  about  it. 

Dio.     My  Royal  Cousin,  how  I  joy  to  see  ye, 
You,  and  your  Royal  Emperess  ! 

Max.     You  are  too  kinde,  Sir. 
I  come  not  to  eat  with  ye,  and  to  surfeit 
In  these  poor  Clownish  pleasures  ;    but  to  tell  ye 
I  look  upon  ye  like  my  Winding-sheet, 
The  Coffin  of  my  Greatness,  nay,  my  Grave  : 
For  whilst  you  are  alive — 

Dio.     Alive,  my  Cousin  ? 

Max.     I  say,  Alive.     I  am  no  Emperour ; 
I  am  nothing  but  mine  own  disquiet. 

386 


Sc.  m  THE    PROPHETESS 

Dio.     Stay,  Sir. 

Max.     I  cannot  stay.     The  Souldiers  doat  upon  ye. 
I  would  fain  spare  ye  ;    but  mine  own  securitie 
Compels  me  to  forget  you  are  my  Uncle, 
Compels  me  to  forget  you  made  me  C&sar  : 
For  whilst  you  are  remembred,  I  am  buried. 

Dio.     Did  not  I  make  ye  Emperour,  dear  [CJousin, 
The  free  gift  from  my  special  grace  ? 

Del.     Fear  nothing. 

Dio.     Did  not  I  chuse  this  povertie,  to  raise  you  ? 
That  Royal  woman  gave  into  your  arms  too  ? 
Bless'd  ye  with  her  bright  beautie  ?   gave  the  Souldiers, 
The  Souldier  that  hung  to  me,  fix'd  him  on  ye  ? 
Gave  ye  the  worlds  command  ? 

Max.     This  cannot  help  ye. 

Dio.     Yet  this  shall  ease  me.     Can  ye  be  so  base,  Cousin, 
So  far  from  Nobleness,  so  far  from  nature, 
As  to  forget  all  this  ?    to  tread  this  Tie  out  ? 
Raise  to  your  self  so  foul  a  monument 
That  every  common  foot  shall  kick  asunder  ? 
Must  my  blood  glue  ye  to  your  peace  ? 

Max.     It  must,   Uncle  ; 

I  stand  too  loose  else,  and  my  foot  too  feeble  : 
You  gone  once,  and  their  love  retir'd,  I  am  rooted. 

Dio.     And  cannot  this  remov'd  poor  State  obscure  me  ? 
I  do  not  seek  for  yours,  nor  enquire  ambitiously 
After  your  growing  fortunes.     Take  heed,  my  kinsman, 
Ungratefulness  and  blood  mingled  together, 
Will,  like  two  furious  Tides — 

Max.     I  must  sail  thorow  'em  : 
Let  'em  be  Tides  of  death,  Sir,  I  must  stem  up. 

Dio.     Hear  but  this  last,  and  wisely  yet  consider  : 
Place  round  about  my  Grange  a  Garison, 
That  if  I  offer  to  exceed  my  limits, 
Or  ever  in  my  common  talk  name  Emperour, 
Ever  converse  with  any  greedy  Souldier, 
Or  look  for  adoration,  nay,  for  courtesie 
Above  the  days  salute. — Think  who  has  fed  ye, 
Think,  Cousin,  who  I  am.     Do  ye  slight  my  misery  ? 
Nay,  then  I  charge  thee  ;    nay,  I  meet  thy  crueltie. 

BB2  387 


THE    PROPHETESS  ACT  v 

Max.     This  cannot  serve;  prepare:  now  fall  on,  souldiers, 
And  all  the  treasure  that  I  have.         [Thunder  and  Lightning. 

Sould.     The  Earth  shakes  ; 

We  totter  up  and  down  ;    we  cannot  stand,  Sir  ; 
Me  thinks  the  mountains  tremble  too. 

2  Sould.     The  flashes 
How  thick  and  hot  they  come  ?    we  shall  be  burn'd  all. 

Del.     Fall  on,  Souldiers  : 
You  that  sell  innocent  blood,  fall  on  full  bravely. 

Sould.     We  cannot  stir. 

Del.     You  have  your  libertie, 
So  have  you,  Lady.     One  of  you  come  do  it. 

[A  hand  with  a  Bolt  appears  above. 

Do  you  stand  amaz'd  ?    Look  o're  thy  head,  Maximinian, 
Look  to  thy  terrour,  what  over-hangs  thee  : 
Nay,  it  will  nail  thee  dead ;    look  how  it  threatens  thee  : 
The  Bolt  for  vengeance  on  ungrateful  wretches  ; 
The  Bolt  of  innocent  blood  :    read  those  hot  characters, 
And  spell  the  will  of  heaven.     Nay,  lovely  Lady, 
You  must  take  part  too,  as  spur  to  ambition, 
Are  ye  humble  ?     Now  speak  ;    my  part's  ended. 
Does  all  your  glory  shake  ? 

Max.     Hear  us,  great  Uncle, 
Good  and  great  Sir,  be  pitiful  unto  us  : 
Below  your  feet  we  lay  our  lives :    be  merciful : 
Begin  you,  heaven  will  follow. 

Aur.     Oh,  it  shakes  still. 

Max.     And  dreadfully  it  threatens.     We  acknowledge 
Our  base  and  foul  intentions.     Stand  between  us  ; 
For  faults  confessed,  they  say,  are  half  forgiven. 
We  are  sorry  for  our  sins.     Take  from  us,  Sir, 
That  glorious  weight  that  made  us  swell,  that  poison'd  us  ; 
That  mass  of  Majestic  I  laboured  under, 
(Too  heavie  and  too  mighty  for  my  manage) 
That  my  poor  innocent  days  may  turn  again, 
And  my  mind  pure,  may  purge  me  of  these  curses  ; 
By  your  old  love,  the  blood  that  runs  between  us. 

[The  hand  taken  in. 

Aur.     By  that  love  once  ye  bare  to  me,  by  that  Sir, 
That  blessed  maid  enjoys — 


Sc.  in  THE    PROPHETESS 

Dio.     Rise  up,  dear  Cousin, 
And  be  your  words  your  judges  :    I  forgive  ye  : 
Great  as  ye  are,  enjoy  that  greatness  ever, 
Whilst  I  mine  own  content  make  mine  own  Empire. 
Once  more  I  give  ye  all ;    learn  to  deserve  it, 
And  live  to  love  your  Good  more  than  your  Greatness. 
Now  shew  your  loves  to  entertain  this  Emperour 
My  honest  neighbours.      Geta,  see  all  handsom. 
Your  Grace  must  pardon  us,  our  house  is  little  ; 
But  such  an  ample  welcom  as  a  poor  man 
And  his  true  love  can  make  you  and  your  Empress. 
Madam,  we  have  no  dainties. 

Aur.     "Tis  enough,  Sir; 
We  shall  enjoy  the  riches  of  your  goodness. 

Sould.     Long  live  the  good  and  gracious  Dioclesian. 
Dio.     I  thank  ye,  Souldiers,  I  forgive  your  rashness. 
And  Royal  Sir,  long  may  they  love  and  honour  ye. 

[Drums  march  afar  off. 
What  Drums  are  those  ? 

Del.     Meet  'em,  my  honest  Son, 
They  are  thy  friends,  Cbarinus  and  the  old  Souldiers 
That  come  to  rescue  thee  from  thy  hot  Cousin. 
But  all  is  well,  and  turn  all  into  welcoms  : 
Two  Emperours  you  must  entertain  now. 

Dio.     O  dear  Mother, 

I  have  will  enough,  but  I  want  room  and  glory.  (r^y> 

Del.     That  shall  be  my  care.     Sound  your  pipes  now  mer- 
And  all  your  handsom  sports.     Sing  'em  full  welcoms. 

Dio.     And  let  'em  know,  our  true  love  breeds  more  stories 
And  perfect  joys,  than  Kings  do,  and  their  glories. 

[Exeunt 


389 


APPENDIX. 


In  the  following  references  to  the  text  the  lines  are  numbered  from  the  top  of  the 
fage,  including  titles,  acts,  stage  directions,  &c. ,  but  not,  of  course,  the 
headline  or  mere  '•rules?  Where,  as  in  the  lists  of  Persons  Represented, 
there  are  double  columns,  the  right-hand  column  is  numbered  after  the  left. 

It  has  not  been  thought  necessary  to  record  the  correction  of  every  turned 
letter  nor  the  substitution  of  marks  of  interrogation  for  marks  of  exclamation 
and  vice  versd.  Full-stops  have  been  silently  inserted  at  the  ends  of  speeches 
and  each  fresh  speaker  has  been  given  the  dignity  of  a  fresh  line :  in  the 
double-columned  folio  the  speeches  are  frequently  run  on.  Misprints  in  the 
Quartos  and  the  First  Folio  are  recorded  when  they  appear  to  be  interesting. 
A  word  or  two  from  the  printed  text  is  attached  to  the  variants  recorded  below 
in  cases  where  the  variant,  by  itself,  would  not  be  sufficiently  clear. 

A   WIFE   FOR   A   MONTH. 
A  =  First  Folio.     B  =  Second  Folio. 

p.  i,  11.  3  ff.     Not  in  A. 

p.  2,  1.  22.     A]  Ex.  Lords. 

p.  4,  1.  23.     B  misprints]  Your  are. 

p.  7,  1.  33.     A  here  and  sometimes  elsewhere  prints  Mar.  for  Queen. 

p.  9,  1.  24.  A]  God.  1.  25.  A]  name  him.  1.  35.  A  comma  has 
been  taken  away  after  Princess. 

p.  10,  1.  18.  K  omits]  and  Podramo.  1.  19.  A.  prints  Pod.  for  Cam. 
1.  26.  A]  mothers. 


p.  ii, 
p.  12, 
P-  I3> 
P-  15, 
p.  19, 
p.  20, 


12.     A]  feeles.         1.24.     A]  eyes.         1.36.     A]  had. 

12.     A]  At  their.        1.  34.     A]  all  on. 

30.     A]  whipt  there. 

29.     A. punctuates]  him  in  death, 

1 8.     A]  vertues. 

i.     A]  conceive  she  has  you.          1.  31.     A]  dead  on's. 


p.  22,  1.  24.     B]  Cassander.         1.  25.     A]  calls.         1.  26.     A]  carin'd. 

p.  23,  1.  i.     A]  a  thy. 

p.  24,  1.  i.  A]  Beside  .  .  soules.  1.  17.  A]  wings  to  our.  1.  35.  A] 
A  the. 

p.  25,  1.  i.  A  comma  has  been  taken  out  after  Tony.  B  reads  Tony 
following,  and  Foole  following.  1.4.  A]vergis.  B]  Veriuyce.  1.17. 
A]  curtall'd.  1.  24.  A]  sweet-meats. 

390 


A  WIFE  FOR  A  MONTH 

p.  26,  1.  26.     A]  a  bed. 

p.  28,  1.  8.     A]  for  it.         1.  13.     A]  Enanthe.         1.  38.     B]  late, 
p.  29,  1.  36.     A  omits  the  colon. 

p.  31,  1.  8.     A]  much  may  it  do  ye  with  it  my.         1.  n.     A  omits]  Exit. 
1.  12.     After  this  line  instead  of  the  second  Exit  and  the  stage  direction,  A  adds] 

And  when  you  please,  and  how  allay  my  miseries. 

Enter  Frederick. 

To  whom  I  kneele  be  mercifull  unto  me, 
Looke  on  my  harmelesse  youth  Angels  of  pitty, 
And  from  my  bleeding  heart  wipe  off  my  sorrowes, 
The  power,  the  pride,  the  malice  and  injustice 
Of  cruell  men  are  bent  against  mine  innocence. 
You  that  controwle  the  mighty  wills  of  Princes, 
And  bow  their  stubborne  armrs,  look  on  my  weaknesse, 
And  when  you  please,  and  how,  allay  my  miseries.      Exit. 
Fred.   Hast  etc. 

1.  38.     B  misprints']  speechs. 
p.  32,  1.  22.     A]  minutes. 

p.  33>  1-2.     B  misprints']  Soveragin.         1.  20.     B  misprints']  Can. 
p.  34,  1.  1 8.     A]  goody. 


P- 35, 
P-  36, 
p.  37, 
P-  38, 
p.  40, 
p.  41, 


39.     B]  learn. 

17.     A]  credit  yea. 

10.     A]  desire. 

25.     A]  honour'd.         1.  27.     B  misprints']  is. 

i.     A]  my  rulnes.       1.  31.     A  omits']  part.       1.  37.     B]  Worship. 

8.     A]  it  too. 


p.  42,  11.  14  and  15.  A  inserts  stage  direction  Enter  Cassandra  here  instead 
of  on  p.  43,  11.  20,  21. 

P-  43}  !•  3-  A  transfers  ioofrom  end  of  line  to  before  grown.  1.  14.  A] 
has  given.  1.  23.  A  omits  stage  direction.  1.  24.  A  omits  Fred,  and 
gives  the  line  to  Val. 

p.  44,  1.  2.  A]  your  face.  1.  19.  A]  by  her.  1.  22.  A]  friends  to 
tell.  11.  37,  38.  A  adds  the  following  lines,  repeated  from  p.  42,  11.  25 — 34 
with  slight  differences  : 

Fred.   You  have  the  happinesse  you  ever  aim'd  at, 

The  joy,  and  pleasure. 
Val.     Would  you  had  the  like,  Sir. 
Fred.    You  tumble  in  delights  with  your  sweet  Lady, 
And  draw  the  minutes  out  in  deare  embraces, 
You  lead  a  right  Lords  life. 
Val.     Would  you  had  tryed  it, 

That  you  might  know  the  vertue  but  to  suffer, 
If  anger,  though  it  be  unjust  and  insolent 
Sits  hansomer  upon  you  then  your  scorne,  Sir. 
Fred.    You  cleerly,  etc. 

p.  46,  1.  5.  A]  to  Valeric.  1.  6.  A]  off,  1.  31.  A]  excellence  in 
honesty. 

391 


APPENDIX 

p.  47,  1.  5.     A]  ye.         1.  6.     A]  ye. 

p.  48,  1.  17.     A]  lyen. 

p.  49,  1.  i.     A]  speak,  is. 

p.  50,  1.  27.     A]  dare. 

p.  51,  1.  6.     A]  what  is. 

p.  52,  1.  9.     A]  vilde. 

P-  53)  !•  6.     A]  Tameris. 

p.  54,  1.  i.     A]  in  a  Coach.         1.  8.     A]  Raines.        1.  26.     A]  cold, 

p.  56,  1.  17.  A]  juster  then  thine,  in.  1.19.  A  omits]  thee.  1.31.  A] 
times.  1.  37.  A]  mine. 

p.  57,  1.  23.     A]  rights. 

p.  61,  1.  29.     A]  a  my.         1.  36.     A  omits  stage  direction. 

p.  62,  1.  8.  A]  Gallenatius.  1.  n.  A]  Has.  1.  15.  A]  an't. 

1.  38.  A]  flung  i'th. 

p.  65,  1.  12.  B  misprints"}  ability.  1.  16.  A]  Eason.  1.  23.  A] 
outsides. 

p.  66,  1.  34.     B  misprints]  me. 

p.  67,  1.  22.  A  comma  has  been  added  at  the  end  of  the  line.  1.  34.  A] 
Abidig.  1.  35.  Repeated  twice  in  error  in  A. 

p.  69,  1.  25.     A]  And  woe. 

p.  71,1.  32.     B]  swell. 

p.  73,  1.  i.     B]  Majors.         1.  8.     A]  you  have. 

THE    LOVERS   PROGRESS. 

p.  74,  11.  3  to  end  of  page  not  in  A.  1.  10.  A  comma  has  been  substituted 
for  a  full  stop  after  Calista.  1.  20.  B]  Lemeor. 

p.  75,  1.  10.  A  comma  has  been  supplied  at  the  end  of  the  line.  1.  26.  A] 
glister. 

p.  78,  1.  24.     A  adds  after  Oratory]  tickle  her  to  the  quick, 

P-  79,  !•  31-     A  omits}  as. 

p.  81,  1.  4.  B]  knee'ld.  1.  16.  A]  honour.  1.  33.  A]  Oke. 

A  superfluous  t  takes  the  place  of  the  comma  at  the  end  of  the  line. 

p.  82, 1.  9.     B]  Clender. 

p.  83,  1.  21.     B  misprints'}  languishng. 


P- 

P- 

85, 
88, 

8. 
4- 

B  misprints}  Cla. 
A]  mettle. 

1.33- 

A  adds  his  after  of. 

P- 

go, 

. 

25- 

A  omits}  is. 

P- 

95, 

. 

6. 

B  misprints}  Cal. 

P- 

97, 

i. 

B  misprints}  as. 

P- 

98, 

. 

24. 

A]  it  blowes. 

1 

32. 

A] 

a  pieces. 

P- 

99, 

. 

7- 

A]  some  cure. 

1. 

35- 

A] 

feld'st. 

P- 

101,  1 

16 

.    A]  Ex.  Manet. 

Cal.  Clarin. 

Stayes  Calist. 

1 

prints}  Cla. 

1.  25.     A]  but  you. 

1.  23.   B  mis- 
s"}  Cla.        1.  25.     A]  but  you. 

392 


THE    PILGRIM 

p.  102, 1.  22.     A]  with  ye.        1.  28.     B  misprints}  Col. 

p.  103,  1.  23.     A]  dranke.        1.  34.     A]  he's. 

p.  105,  1.  6.     A]  lock'd  his  graces. 

p.  106, 1.  5.     A]  afflict  you. 

p.  107,  1.  5.  A]  burn.  1.  6.  A  omits]  it.  1.  8.  A]  faith  and  dull. 
1.  34.  A]  never. 

p.  108,  1.  13.     A  omits  the  second'}  do.         1.  39.     A  omits'}  in. 

p.  no,  1.  22.     A]  kill  cow. 

p.  in,  1.  21.     B  misprints}  hyprocisie. 

p.  112,  1.  17.     A  omits]  doth.        1.  23.     B]  loves.        1.  31.     A]  hopes. 

p.  114,  1.  6.  B  misprints]  Dor.  1.  39.  A  omits]  Hark,  a  Song  and 
inserts  it  after  clean,  p.  115,  1.  20. 

p.  115,  1.  6.     A]  beds...downe.         1.  18.     A  omits  the  second}  welcom. 

p.  119,  1.  4.     B]  coversation.       1.  5.     A]  yon'd.       1.  29.     B]  understand. 

p.  120,  1.  2.     A]  wil'ing.         1.  36.     B  misprints]  net. 

p.  121,  1.  5.  A]  your  fathers.  1.  18.  A]  kinsmen.  1.  23.  A  and  B] 
Chrysantes. 

p.  122,  1.  1 6.     B]  Ghosty. 

p.  125, 1.  20.     B]  Clorindon. 

p.  126,  1.  3.     A]     Mistris. 

p.  131,  1.  16.     A]  to  a. 

P-  I33>  1.  30-     A]  Womens. 

p.  136,  1.  8.     A]  sake.         1.  21.     A]  misery's. 

p.  138,  1.  5.     A]  ever. 

p.  142,  1.  14.     B  misprints]  dequeath. 

p.  147,  1.  19.     B  misprints]  you.         1.  35.     A]  and  I. 

p.  149,  1.  20.     A  and  B]  Crysanthes. 

p.  150,  1.  ii.     B]  Leon.         1.  29.     A  and  B]  Crysanthes. 

p.  151,  1.  27.     A  and  B]  of. 

p.  152,  1.  16.     B]  nor. 

THE    PILGRIM. 

p.  153,  11.  3  to  end  of  page  not  in  A. 
p.  154,  1.  2.     A  omits}  and. 

P-  *55>  1.  32-     A]  family,  I  hate  young.         B  misprints]  Pearo. 
p.  156,  1.  36.     A]  sort, 
p.  157,  1.  28.     A]  tettish. 

p.  159,  1.  5.     A  omits]  and.         1.  16.     B  misprints]  i  Beg. 
p.  160,  1.  24.     A]  ye'  are  hartly.        1.  36.     A]  knew, 
p.  161,  1.  ii.     A.  omits]  and. 

p.  162,  1.  3.  A]  mediate.  11.  5  and  n.  A]  Are  ye... ye  on.  1.  35.  A] 
ye  have.  1.  40.  A]  appeares. 

393 


APPENDIX 

p.  163,  1.  9.  B  misprints]  calimities.  1.  15.  A]  do  ye.  1.  10.  A] 
you  holy  wounderers.  1.  23.  A]  Have.  1.  25.  A]  he  is.  1.  39.  A 
omits  stage  direction. 

p.  164,  1.  i.  A]  O'  me.  1.  8.  A]  Tis  so  too  true.  1.  9.  A]  en 
graved.  1.  1 8.  A  omits'}  so.  1.  26.  A]  ith  ayre.  1.  28.  A]  Ye 
amaze.  1.  34.  A]  hang'em  all. 

p.  165,  1.  9.  A]  Her  band. 

p.  166,  1.  26.     A]  upwards. 

p.  167,  1.  2.  A]  but  ye.         1.  6.    B  misprints'}  still.         1.  17.    A]  Shalt. 

p.  168,  1.  8.  A]  Teresse.  1.  37.  A]  Jumping-Jone.  1.  38.  A] 
joggle. 

p.  169,  1.  17.     A]  o'  foot.         1.  1 8.     A]  shall  be. 

p.  170,  1.  12.  A]  Ye.  1.  13.  A]  flea.  1.  23.  A]  Loper  here  and 
on  p.  171,  1.  8.  1.  34.  A]  nor  harshly. 

p.  171,  1.  TO.     A]  well  what : 

p.  172,  1.  34.     A]  upon  me. 

P.  i73»  1.  25.  &\  as  you. 

p.  174,  1.  8.  A  and  B]  Loper. 

p.  175,  1.  37.     A]  vildly. 

p.  176, 1.  12.     A]  sue  to  thee. 

p.  177,  1.  4.  A]  will. 

p.  178,  1.  20.     A]  filde. 

p.  181,  1.  24.     A]  Loper. 

p.  182,  1.  29.     A]  O. 

p.  183,  1.  i.  A  full  stop  has  been  added  at  the  end  of  the  line.  1.15.  B] 
let. 

p.  184,  1.  13.  A  mark  of  interrogation  has  been  substituted  for  a  colon. 
1.  25.  A]  Fastwes. 

p.  185,  1.  i.  B]  me.         1.  20.     A]  know.         1.  34.     B  misprints'}  now. 

p.  186,  1.  33.  B  punctuates'}  me;  when  ye  see  me, 

p.  187,  1.  22.  B  misprints'}  Jap. 

p.  1 88,  1.  6.  B  misprints}  Alphoso. 

p.  190,  1.  37.  A]  his  corum. 

p.  191,  1.  19.  A]  Goffer. 

p.  IQ5,  1.  1 8.  B]  shold. 

p.  196,  1.  1 8.  A  omits'}  Mast,  and  continues  speech  as  Ped.'s. 

P-  IQ7»  1.  35-  A]  Sigonia. 

p.  199,  1.  8.  A]  yond... scape.  1.  30.  A  adds  after  Posie:]  Prick  me, 
and  heale  me. 

p.  200,  1.  7.  A]  coxcomes.         1.  30.     A]  a'. 

p.  201,  1.  i.  A]  Is't  it  not.         1.  19.     A]  I  shall. 

p.  2O2}1.  17.  A]  shall  be.         1.  26.    A  omits  the  ind comma  after  heavier. 

p.  203,  1.  i.  A]  content.  1.  7.  B  misprints'}  3.  1.  33.  A]  Has 

been  tormented. 

394 


THE    CAPTAIN 

p.  204,  1.  24.     A]  O'.  1.  33.     A]  O'.  1.  36.     A]*to  guid. 

p.  205,  1.  31.     A]  should  now.         1.  35.     A]  the  mine. 

p.  206,  1.  23.    A]  by  th'  word... ye.         1.  32.    A]  'th  as  in  (i.e.  omits  been). 

p.  207,  1.  14.  A]  decarded.  1.  26.  A]  where  this.  1.  27.  A]  scar. 
1.  34.  A  omits  Rod.  and  gives  both  speeches  in  error  to  Fed. 

p.  208,  1.  3.     A]  Keep  us  thus. 

p.  209,  1.  7.     A]  mackrels.         1.  32.     A]  shee-foole. 

p.  210,  1.  7.     A]  do  ye.         1.  9.     A]  plumb.         1.  27.     A]  cares. 

p.  211,  1.  ii.     A]  pig  thy.         1.  1 8.    A]  cod  pice.         1.  38.    A]  Heaven. 

p.  212,  1.  13.     A]  like  he. 

p.  214,  1.  12.     A  omits}  a. 

p.  216,  1.  3.     A]  Segonia. 

p.  217,  1.  ii.  A.  omits]  do.  1.  22.  A]  stroke.  1.  37.  A]  I  see. 

1.  40.  A]  Simon. 

p.  218,  1.  19.     A]  Segonia. 

p.  219,  1.  7.     A]  gambals.         1.  36.     A  and  B  punctuate}  choice  men, 

p.  221,  1.  4.     A]  is  as  fine  a  place.         1.  7.     A]  any  away. 

p.  222,  1.  28.     A]  Segonia. 

p.  223,  1.  19.     A]  Segonia. 

p.  224,  1.  2.     A]  For  there. 

p.  225,  1.  i.  A  full  stop  has  been  added  at  the  end  of  the  line.  1.  6.  A] 
ye. 

p.  227,  1.  29.     A]  A  semi-colon  has  been  added  after  nothing, 
p.  228,  1.  32.     A]  Segonia. 

THE    CAPTAIN. 

p.  230,  11.  3  to  end  of  page  not  in  A.       1.  9.    B]  Julia.         1.  27.    B]  Clara. 

p.  232,  1.  20.     A]  a  war.         1.  37.     A]  Oh  God. 

p.  233,  1.  3.     A]  not  percell. 

P-  235>  !•  3-  A]  for  gods.  1.  7.  A]  behold.  1.  21.  \givesfrom 
hereto^™.  1.23.  A]  O  God  what.  "  1.24.  A]  if  were...  thank  God. 
1.  36.  A]  decaid  crare  of. 

p.  236,  1.  5.  A]  ya're.  1.  7.  A]  as?  she.  1.  19.  A  omits~\  wench. 
1.  20.  A  omits  Clo.  and  gives  the  line  to  Fran. 

p.  237,  1.  22.     A]  If  God  had. 

p.  238,  11.  27 — 32.  A  divides  thus]  such... will... let.  11.  33 — 35.  A 
divides  into  2  //.  at]  love. 

p.  239,  1.  2.     A]  thank  God. 

p.  240,  1.  34.     A]  a'th.         1.  35.     A]  good  God. 

p.  241,  1.  5.     A]  'ath  Cithron.         1.  37.     B]  ought. 

p.  242,  1.  21.     A]  swallows. 

p.  244,  1.  26.  A  omits  comma  after]  modest.  1.  29.  A]  a  conscience. 
1.  35.  A]  will  you. 

395 


APPENDIX 


p.  245,  1.  5.     A]  deadly. 
dare.         1.  22.     A]  ye  would. 


1.6.    A]  has  held... good  God.        1.8.     A] 


p.  246,  1.  5.     A]  have  strooke.         1.  30.     A  adds  at  end]  omnes. 

p.  247,  1.  5.  B  misprints}  up.  1.  8.  A]  to  God.  1.  14.  A]  of  my. 
1.  17.  B  misprints'}  that.  1.  31.  A]  Pox  a.  1.  34.  A]  make.  1.  38.  A] 
mischiefe. 

p.  248,  1.  6.     A]  And  seasons.        1.  40.     A]  a'th. 

p.  249,  1.  9.    A  here  and  often  elsewhere}  Jacamo. 

p.  250,  1.  29.     A]  heads.         1.  32.     A]  suffering. 

p.  251,  1.  8.     A]  are  ye.         1.  37.     A]  sinews. 

p.  252,  1.  n.     B]  '11.         1.  13.     A]  yet  'a. 

p.  253, 1.  19.    A]  he  were.         1.  20.    A]  He  could. 
1.  37.     A]  opinions. 

p.  254,  1.  4.     A]  in  need.  1.  13. 

p.  255,  1.  12.     A]  orethrow. 

p.  256,  1.  13.     A  omits'}  have. 

A  omits'}  and  Jacomo. 
A  omits}  Fred. 

1.  32.     B  misprints}  Faih. 


1.  24.    A]  Cat  skins. 


1.  22.    A]  of  their. 


A]  yon. 


A  omits]  will. 
A]  purge  your. 
A]  thank  God. 


p.  258,  1.  9. 
Fred.        1.  23. 

p.  259,  1.  10. 

p.  261,  1.  24. 

p.  262,  1.  1 6. 
Angilo. 

p.  263,  1.  14.     A]  mongst. 

p.  264,  1.  30. 

p.  265,  1.  34. 

p.  266,  1.  1 8. 

p.  268,  1.  14. 

p.  270,  1.  21. 


1.  22.     A  gives  this  line  also  to 


1.  22.    A  here  and  often  elsewhere  prints 


A]  Pray  God. 

A]  God  pardon. 

A]  pottage. 

A]  trucks.         1.  34.     B  misprints'}  stavre. 

A]  ha  been. 

p.  271,  1.  1 8.    A]  I,  though  you. 
p.  272,  1.  32.     A  omits'}  t'. 
P-  273>  l-3i.     A]  Tyre- wench, 
p.  274,  1.  33.     A  omits}  O  me. 
p.  275,  1.  10.     A]  it  has.          1.  n 
1.  29.    A  omits  the  comma  after  honest. 
B]  away,  Julio. 

p.  277,  1.  2.     A]  you  yet. 

p.  278, 1.  16.    A]  I  was.        1.  21.     A]  When  you. 
p.  279,  1.  21.     A]  disgrace  you.         1.  38.     A]  Shart? 
p.  280,  1.  21.    A  omits'}  a.        1.  22.     A]  Codpeeece. 

p.  281,  1.  19.    B  misprints'}  IV.      1.  24.    A]  be  he  mine  Host, 
bitten. 


1.29.    Bjsobe.         1.31.    A]  t' were. 
1.  33.     A]  for  Gods. 

A]  to  Jove.          1.  15.     B]  quamish. 
1.  33.    A]  away  for  Gods  sake  Julio. 


1.  26.  A] 


p.  282,  i.  3. 
Id. 


a  A  punctuates'}  parcells  here,       1.  5.     A]  vellet.        1.  7.    A] 

1.  17.  A]  pray  to  God  thou.     B]  pray  thou.         1.  37.     A]  yon. 

p.  284,  1.  3.  A]  has.        1.  35.     A  omits]  all. 

396 


THE    PROPHETESS 

p.  285,  1.  20.     A]  Marry  God  bless.     B]  Marry  bless. 

p.  286,  1.  13.    A]  pox  a.        1.  18.    A]  you  too.        1.  39.    A]  thank  God. 

p.  287,  1.  n.     A]  this  way.         1.  33.     A]  Pray  God. 

p.  288,  1.  23.     A]  Brother  fly.         1.  36.     B  misprints}  A. 

p.  289,  1.  7.  A.  gives  this  line  to  Jac.  1.  16.  A]  to  God.  1.  20.  A] 
please  God.  1.  26.  A]  'a  will. 

p.  290,  1.  25.  A  adds}  God,  before  I.  1.  26.  A]  S'blood  ye.  1.  30.  A] 
S'blood  but. 

p.  291,  1.  3.  A  omits}  and  Servants.  1.  9.  A]  For  heaven  God  sake. 
1.  23.  A]  for  God.  1.  31.  A  omits  stage  direction. 

p.  292,  1.  17.     A  adds}  Exeunt. 

p.  294,  1.  1 6.     A  omits}  not. 

p.  296,  1.  36.     B  misprints}  bead. 

p.  297,  1.  21.     A*  puts  mark  of  interrogation  after  stone. 

p.  298,  1.  33.     A  gives  That  thou  to  previous  line. 

p.  299,  1.  2.  A]  fires.  1.  n.  A]  Gods  will.  1.  15.  A]  help  ther. 
A]  Gods  sake. 

p.  300,  1.  9.     A]  Yon. 

p.  303,  1.  7.     A]  you  are. 

p.  304,  1.  15.     B  misprints}  Lod. 

p.  305,  1.  23.     A]  Had.         1.  29.     A]  Art  sure  it  was.     B  omits}  it. 

p.  306,  1.  2.  A]  old  leg.  1.  13.  A  adds}  and  before  go.  1.  15.  A 

omits}  will.  1.  22.  A  adds}  more  before  loth.  1.  26.  A  continues'}  If 

so  and  omits  Fran,  in  line  below.  1.  35.  A]  y'  faith. 

p.  307, 1.34.     A  prints  It  at  end  of  line  instead  of  beginning  of  following  lint. 

p.  308, 1.  i.  A]  head,  add  Probatum.  1. 1 1.  A  adds}  above  after  wench. 
1.  19,  A]  God  send. 

p.  309,  1.  2.  A]  Lift.  1.  4.  A]  do  you.  1.  13.  A]  that  you. 

1.  15.  A  omits]  I.  1.  31.  A]  jest.  1.  33.  A]  Gentlewoman. 

p.  310,  1.  6.  A]  the  strongest.  1.  10  (in  small  type  stage  direction}.  A] 
goes  his  wails. 

p.  311,  1.  1 6.     A]  counterfeit  it  crying.         1.  22.     A]  a  face. 

p.  312,  1.  2.     A]  off,  the  fresh.         1.  15.     A]  lift. 

p.  313,  1.  17.     B]  hastly.         1.  32.     B]  Clora? 

p.  314,  1.  14.  A]  Enter  Father  and  Servant.  1.  36.  A  omits  stage 
direction  here  and  inserts  it  on  p.  315,  1.  3. 

P-  3I5>  !•  5-  B  misprints}  unepected.  1.  14.  A]  slubberd.  1.  25.  A] 
that  that. 

p.  316,  1.  2.     A]  began. 

THE    PROPHETESS. 
p.  320,  11.  3  to  end  of  page  not  in  A. 


p.  322,  1.  23.     A  adds}  now  after  not. 

p.  324,  1.  7.     A]  is  set.        1.  23.     A]  Have. 


397 


APPENDIX 

P-  325,  1.  6.  A]  a  foot.  1.  14.  A]  ye  may.  1.  32.  A  omits}  of. 

1.  33.  A  omits']  the. 

p.  327,  1.  1 8.     A]  can  ye. 

p.  328,  1.  20.     A.  punctuates]  Or  rather,  (mark.         1.  31.     A]  at  last. 

p.  329,  1.  9.     A]  South-sayer. 

p.  330,  1.  25.     A]  that  Cannon... give  ye. 

p.  331,  1.  26.     A]  into  ye. 

P-  333,  1.  13-     A]  have  ye.         1.  26.     A]  you  will. 

p.  334,  I-  8.     B  misprints']  rememher.         1.  n.     A]  do  do. 

P-  335)  !•  23-     A]  comforts. 

p.  338,  1.  6.     B  misprints]  Centurius.         1.  17.     A]  parts. 

P-  339,  1-  34-     A  omits  stage  direction. 

p.  342,  1.  28.  B  misprints']  fulfull.  1.  29.  A  omits  stage  direction. 

1.  36.  A  prints  marks  of  interrogation  instead  of  exclamation. 

p.  347,  1.  28.     A]  the  Satyre  of. 

p.  348,  1.  17.     A]  hats. 

p.  351,  1.  25.     A]  as  the  mid.          1.  27.     A]  Watch. 

P-  353,  I-  15-     Al  those. 

p.  354,  1.  1 6.     A]  am  no  where,  Sir. 

P-  355,  1-22.     A]  pleasures. 

p.  356,  1.  31.     A]  Ian  flames  shot. 

P'  358,  1.  22.     A]  hold  but  up.         1.  28.     A]  aspect... tells. 

P-  359,  1.  36-     A]  my  great  fortune. 

p.  360,  1.  25.     A]  ye  now. 

p.  361,  1.  i.     A]  Not  stop.        1.  3.     A]  Sigh  that. 

p.  362,  1.  19.     A]  Divels. 

p.  364,  1.  8.     A]  much  upon. 

P-  365,  1.  5-     A]  few  poor  fugitives. 

p.  367,  1.  2.     A]  pleasure. 

p.  370,  1.  i.  A]  Though  now  like.  1.  7.  A]  I  love.  1.  31.  A] 

the  least. 

p.  371,  1.  i.     A]  scatter  'em.         1.  12.     A]  keeps. 

p.  374,  1.  4.     A  omits]  and.         1.  13.     A]  Courage  is. 

P-  375,  !•  ii'     A]  my.        1.  29.     A]  What  a. 

P-  377,  !•  25.     B  misprints}   Soveraginsy. 

p.  381,  1.  T.     B]  are. 

P-  385,  1.  6.     B  misprints]  quiely. 

p.  387,  1.  7.     B  misprints]  Dousin. 

END  OF  VOL.  V. 


CAMBRIDGE:   PRINTED  BY  JOHN  CLAY,  M.A.  AT  THE  UNIVERSITY  PRESS. 


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