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822  Beaumont 
Beaumont,  Francis 
The  works  of  Francis 
Beaumont  and  John 
171618 


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CAMBRIDGE  ENGLISH  CLASSICS 


The  NWorks  t 
of 

Francis    Beaumont 
\u 

and 
John   Fletcher 


In  ten  volumes 
Vol.   X 


FRANCIS   BEAUMONT 

Born   1584 
Died    1616 


JOHN   FLETCHER 

Born    1579 
Died   1625 


r 
/O 

BEAUMONT  AND  FLETCHER 


THIERRY   AND   THEODORET 

THE   WOMAN-HATER       NICE  VALOUR 

THE   HONEST   MAN'S    FORTUNE 

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

FOUR    PLAYS    OR    MORAL 
REPRESENTATIONS    IN    ONE 


THE    TEXT    EDITED     BY 

A.    R.   WALLER,    M.A. 


1969 
OCTAGON    BOOKS 

New  York 


Hist  published  in  1912 


Reprinted  1969 
by  permission  of  the  Cambridge  University  Press 

OCTAGON  BOOKS 

A  DIVISION  OF  FARRAR,  STRAUS  &  GIROUX,  INC. 

19  Union  Square  West 
New  York,  N.  Y.  10003 


LIBRARY  OF  CONGRESS  CATALOG  CARD  NUMBER:  76-83295 


PREFACE 

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

A.    R.   WALLER 


21   May   1912 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

Thierry  and  Theodoret     ....  I 

The  Woman-Hater  .          .          .          .          .  71 

Nice  Valour,  or  The  Passionate  Mad-man  143 

Mr.    Francis    Beaumonts    Letter    to    Ben. 

Johnson      ......  199 

The  Honest  Man's  Fortune       .          .          .  202 

The  Masque  of  the  Gentlemen  of  Grays- 

Inne  and  the  Inner-Temple        .          .  281 

Four    Plays    or    Moral    Representations    in 

One .......  287 

Appendix  .......  365 


THE    TRAGEDY 


OF 


Thierry  and   Theodoret. 


Attus  Primus.     Scana  Prima. 

Enter  Theodoret^  Brunhalt,  Bawd[b~]er. 

BRUNHALT. 

TAxe  me  with  these  hot  tainters  ? 
Theodoret.     You  are  too  sudain  ; 
I  doe  but  gently  tell  you  what  becomes  you 
And  what  may  bend  your  honor  !    how  these  courses 
Of  loose  and  lazie  pleasures ;    not  suspedled 
But  done  and  known,  your  mind  that  grants  no  limit 
And  all  your  A6lions  follows,  which  loose  people 
That  see  but  through  a  mist  of  circumstance 
Dare  term  ambitious  ;    all  your  wayes  hide  sores 
Opening  in  the  end  to  nothing  but  ulcers. 
Your  instruments  like  these  may  call  the  world 
And  with  a  fearfull  clamor,  to  examine 
Why,  and  to  what  we  govern.     From  example 
If  not  for  vertues  sake  ye  may  be  honest  : 
There  have  been  great  ones,  good  ones,  and  'tis  necessary 
Because  you  are  your  self,  and  by  your  self 
A  self-peece  from  the  touch  of  power  and  Justice, 
You  should  command  your  self,  you  may  imagine 
Which  cozens  all  the  world,  but  chiefly  women 
The  name  of  greatness  glorifies  your  actions 

B.-F.  X.  A 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF  ACT  i 

And  strong  power  like  a  pent-house,  promise[s] 
To  shade  you  from  opinion  ;    Take  heed  mother, 
And  let  us  all  take  heed  these  most  abuse  us 
The  sins  we  doe,  people  behold  through  opticks, 
Which  shews  them   ten  times  more  than  common  vices, 
And  often   multiplys  them  :    Then  what  justice 
Dare  we  inflict  upon  the  weak  offenders 
When   we  are  theeves  our  selves  ? 

Brun.      This  is,  Martell, 

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

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

Bawd.     Bless  us  ! 


Sc.  i   THIERRY  AND  THEODORET 

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

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

Brun.     O  ye  gods  ! 

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

Brun.     Art  thou  a  Son  ? 

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

Brun.     O  miserie ! 

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

Brun.     I  will  not  curse  you, 
Nor  lay  a  prophesie  upon  your  pride, 

A  2  7 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF  ACT  i 

Though   heaven   might   grant   me  both  :    unthankful!,  no, 
I   nourish 'd   ye,  'twas  I,  poor  I   groan'd   for  you, 
'Tw.is   I   felt   what   you   sufferM,   I    lamented 
When   sickness  or  sad   hours  held   back  your  swe[e]tness  ; 
'Twas   I   pay'd   for  your  sleeps,  I  watchd   your  wakings  : 
My  daily  cares  and   fears,  that  rid,  plaid,  walk'd, 
Discoursed,  discover'd,  fed  and   fashion'd   you 
To  what   you   are,  and   I   am  thus   rewarded. 

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

Brun.     In   my  last   hours  despis'd. 

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

Baiud.      I  would   take  whipping, 
And  pay  a  fine  now.  [Exit  Bawdber. 

Theod.     But  were  ye  once  disgraced, 

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

Brun.     Am  I  a  woman,  and  no  more  power  in  me, 
To  tye  this  Tyger  up,  a  soul  to  no  end, 
Have  I  got  shame  and  lost  my  will  ?    Brunhalt 


Sc.  i   THIERRY  AND  THEODORET 

From  this  accursed  hour,  forget  thou  bor'st  him, 

Or  any  part  of  thy  blood  gave  him  living, 

Let  him  be  to  thee  an  Antipathy, 

A  thing  thy  nature  sweats  at,  and  turns  backward  : 

Throw  all  the  mischiefs  on  him  that  thy  self, 

Or  woman  worse  than  thou  art,  have  invented, 

And  kill  him  drunk,  or  doubtfull. 

Enter  Bawd\)f\er,  Protaldie,  Lecure. 

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

Brun.     Now  my  varlets, 
My  slaves,  my  running  thoughts,  my  executions. 

Baw .     Lord  how  she  looks ! 

Brun.     Hell  take  ye  all. 

Baw.     We  shall   be  gelt. 

Brun.     Your  Mistress, 

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

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

Brun.     The  young  courser 

That  unli[c]kt  lumpe  of  mine,  will  win  thy  Mistriss  ; 
Must  I  be  chast  Protaldye? 

Pro.     Thus  and  thus  Lady. 

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

Lecure.     But  what  safety  Madam 
Find  you  in  staying  here  ? 

Brun.     Thou  hast  hit  my  meaning, 
I  will  to   Thierry  Son  of  my  blessings, 
And  there  complain  me,  tell  my  tale  so  subtilly, 
That  the  cold  stones  shall  sweat ;    And  Statues  mourn, 
And  thou  shalt  weep  Protaldye  in  my  witness, 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF         ACT  [i] 

And  there  forswear. 

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

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

Lecure.     This  place  you  will. 

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

Prota.     But  Noble  Lady. 

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

\A5t.    I.       Scte.    2.] 

Enter  Theodoret^  Martell,   &c. 

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

6 


Sc.  [2]   THIERRY  AND  THEODORET 

I  might,  and  now  I  wish  I  had  not  look'd 
With  such  strict  eyes  into  her  follies. 

Mart.     Sir,  a  duty  well  discharged   is  never  followed 
By  sad  repentance,  nor  did  your  Highness  ever 
Make  payment  of  the  debt  you  ow'd  her,  better 
Than   in  your  late  reproofs  not  of  her,  but 
Those  crimes  that  made  her  worthy  of  reproof. 
The  most  remarkeable  point  in  which  Kings  differ 
From  private  men,  is  that  they  not  alone 
Stand  bound  to  be  in  themselves  innocent, 
But  that  all  such  as  are  allyed  to  them 
In  nearness,  [or]  dependance,  by  their  care 
Should   be  free  from  suspition  of  all  crime  ; 
And  you  have  reap'd  a  double  benefit 
From  this  last  great  a6t :    first  in  the  restraint 
Of  her  lost  pleasures,  you  remove  th'  example 
From  others  of  the  like  licentiousness, 
Then  when  'tis  known  that  your  severitie 
Extended  to  your  mother,  who  dares  hope  for 
The  least  indulgence  or  connivence  in 
The  easiest  slips  that  may  prove  dangerous 
To  you,  or  to  the  Kingdome  ? 

Theod.     I  must  grant 

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

Mart.     Beasts  of  that  nature,  when  rebellious  threats 
Begin  to  appear  only  in  their  eyes, 
Or  any  motion  that  may  give  suspition 
Of  the  least  violence  should  be  chain'd  up  ; 
Their  fangs  and  teeth,  and  all  their  means  of  hurt, 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF          ACT  [i] 

Par'd  off,  and   knockt  out,  and  so  made  unable 
To  do   ill  ;    They  would  soon   begin   to  loath   it. 
I'll  apply  nothing:    but  had  your  Grace  done, 
Or  would  doe  yet,  what  your  less   forward  zeal 
In  words  did  only  threaten,  far  less  danger 
Would  grow  from  acting  it  on  her,  than   may 
Perhaps  have  Being  from  her  apprehension 
Of  what  may  once  be  pradtis'd  :    For  believe   it, 
Who  confident  of  his  own   power,  presumes 
To  spend  threats  on  an  enemy,  that   hath   means 
To  shun   the  worst  they  can  efFec"t,  gives  armor 
To  keep  off  his  own  strength  ;    Nay  more,  disarms 
Himself,  and  lyes  unguarded  'gainst  all  harms, 
Or  doubt,  or  malice  may  produce. 

Theod.     'Tis  true. 

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

Mart.     May  your  pious  care 
Effecl  but  what  it  aim'd  at,  I  am  silent. 

Enter  Devitry. 

Theod.     What  laught  you  at  Sir  ? 

Vitry.     I   have  some  occasion, 
I  should  not  else^    And  the  same  cause  perhaps 
That  makes  me  do  so,  may  beget  in  you 
A  contrary  effecl:. 

Theod.     Why,  what's  the  matter  ? 

fairy.     I  see  and  joy  to  see  that  sometimes  poor  men, 
(And   most  of  [such]  are  good)  stand   more  indebted 
For  [meanes]  to  breathe  to  such  as  are  held  vitious, 

8 


Sc.  [2]    THIERRY  AND  THEODORET 

Than  those  that  wear,  like  Hypocrites  on   their  foreheads, 
Th'ambitious  titles  of  just  men  and  vertuous. 

Mart.     Speak  to  the  purpose. 

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

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

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

Theod.     How  ? 

Vitry.     Nay  storm  not, 

For  if  that  wicked  tongue  of  hers  hath  not 
Forgot  [its]  pace,  and   Thierry  be  a  Prince 
Of  such  a  fiery  temper,  as  report 

Has  given  him  out  for  ;    You  shall  have  cause  to  use 
Such  poor  men  as  my  self ;    And  thank  us  too 
For  comming  to  you,  and  without  petitions  ; 
Pray  heaven  reward  the  good  old  woman  for't. 

Mart.     I  foresaw  this. 

Theod.     I  hear  a  tempest  comming, 
That  sings  mine  &  my  kingdomes  ruin:    haste, 
And  cause  a  troop  of  horse  to  fetch  her  back : 
Yet  stay,  why  should  I  use  means  to  bring  in 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF  ACT  n 

A  plague  that  of  her  self  hath   left   me  ?    Muster 
Our  Soldiers  up,  we'll   stand  upon   our  guard, 
For  we  shall   be  attempted  ;    Yet   forbear 
The   inequality  of  our  powers  will   yield   me 
Nothing  but  loss  in  their  defeature:    something 
Must  be  done,  and  done  suddainly,  save  your   labor, 
In   this  I'll   use  no  counsell   but   mine  own, 
That  course  though  dangerous  is  best.     Command 
Our  daughter  be  in   readiness,  to  attend  us: 
Martell,  your  company,  and  honest   ^itryy 
Thou  wilt  along  with  me. 
Vitry.     Yes  any  where, 
To  be  worse  than   I  'm   here,  is  past  my  fear.  [Exeunt. 

Aftus  Secundus.     Sctena  Prima. 

Enter   Thierry,  Brunhalt,  Bawdber,  Lecure,   &c. 

Thier.  "X/'ou  are  here  in  a  san6tuary ;   and  that  viper 

X      (Who  since  he  hath   forgot  to  be  a  Son, 
I  much  disdain  to  think  of  as  a  brother) 
Had  better,  in  despight  of  all  the  gods, 

To  have  raiz'd  their  Temples,  and  spurn'd  down  their  Altars, 
Than  in  his  impious  abuse  of  you, 
To  have  callM  on  my  just  anger. 

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

Thier.     That  part  of  his 
As  it  deserves  shall  burn  no  more  :    [if  or] 
The  tears  of  Orphans,   Widows,  or  all  such 
As  dare  acknowledge  him  to   be  their  Lord, 

10 


Sc.  i   THIERRY  AND  THEODORET 

Joyn'd  to  your  wrongs,  with  his  heart  blood  have  power 

To  put  it  out :    and  you,  and  these  your  servants, 

Who  in  our  favours  shal  find  cause  to  know 

In  that  they  left  not  you,  how  dear  we  hold  them  ; 

Shal[l]  give  Theodoret  to  understand, 

His  ignorance  of  the  prizeless  Jewel,  which 

He  did  possess  in  you,  mother  in  you, 

Of  which  I  am  more  proud  to  be  the  donor, 

Than  if  th'  absolute  rule  of  all  the  world 

Were  offer'd  to  this  hand  ;    Once  more  you  are  welcome, 

Which  with  all  ceremony  due  to  greatness 

I  would  make  known,  but  that  our  just  revenge 

Admits  not  of  delay  ;    Your  hand  Lord  Generall. 

Enter  Protaldie,  with  soldiers. 

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

Thier.     How  my  subjects  ? 

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

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

II 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF          ACT  n 

Bawd.     I   hope  your   Highness 

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

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

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

Lecure.    Bawd.      Our  service.  (of  them  ? 

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

Prota.     Sir,  they  have  limbs 

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

Thier.      Well,  that  care  is  yours  ; 
And  see  that  you  effecl  it. 

Prota.     I  am  slow 

To  promise  much  ;    But  if  within  ten   days, 
By  precepts  and  examples,  not  drawn   from 
Worm-eaten  presidents  of  the   Roman  wars 
But  from   mine  own,  I  make  them  not  transcend 
All  that  e'er  yet  bore  armes,  let  it  be  said, 
Protaldye  brags,  which   would   be  unto  me 
As  hatefull  as  to  be  esteem'd  a  coward  : 
For  Sir,  few  Captaines  know  the  way  to  win  [him], 

12 


Sc.  i   THIERRY  AND  THEODORET 

And  make  the  soldiers  valiant.     You  shall  [see  me] 

Lie  with  them  in  their  trenches,  talk,  and  drink, 

And  be  together  drunk  ;   And,  what  seems  stranger, 

We'll  sometimes  wench  together,  which  once  pra6tis'd 

And  with  some  other  care  and  hidden  a6ts, 

They  being  all  made  mine,  I'll  breath[e]  into  them 

Such  fearless  resolution  and  such  fervor, 

That  though  I  brought  them  to  beseige  a  fort, 

Whose  walls  were  steeple  high,  and  cannon  proof, 

Not  to  be  undermin'd,  they  should  fly  up, 

Like  swallows  :    and  the  parapet  once  won, 

For  proof  of  their  obedience,  if  I  will'd  them 

They  should  leap  down  again,  and  what  is  more, 

By  some  directions  they  should  have  from  me, 

Not  break  their  necks. 

Thi.     This  is  above  belief. 

Brun.    Sir,  on  my  knowledgfe]  though  he  hath  spoke  much, 
He's  able  to  do  more. 

Lecure.     She  means  on  her. 

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

Thier.     I  cannot  but 

Believe  you  Madam,  thou  art  one  degree 
Grown  nearer  to  my  heart,  and  I  am  proud 
To  have  in  thee  so  glorious  a  plant 
Transported  hither  ;    In  thy  conduct,  we 
Go  on  assur'd  of  conquest  ;    our  remove 
Shall  be  with  the  next  Sun. 

Enter  Tkeod[o]rety  Memberge,  Martell^  Devitry. 

Lecure.     Amazement  leave  me,  'tis  he. 
Bawd.     We  are  again  undone. 
Prot.     Our  guilt  hath  no  assurance  nor  defence. 
Bawd.     If  now  your  ever  ready  wit  fail  to  protect  us, 
We  shall  be  all  discover'd. 

'3 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF          ACT  n 

Brun.     Be  not  so 

In  your  amazement  and  your  foolish  fears, 
I  am   prepared   for't. 

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

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

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

Brun.     To  excuse  thy  impious  scandalls  rather. 

Prot.     Rather  forc'd  with  fear  to  be  compePd  to  come. 

Thierry.     Forbear. 

Theod.     This  moves  not  me,  and  yet  had  I  not  been 
Transported  on  my  own  integrity, 
I  neither  am  so  odious  to  my  subjects, 
Nor  yet  so  barren  of  defence,  but  that 
By  force  I  could  have  justified  my  guilt, 


Sc.  i   THIERRY  AND  THEODORET 

Had  I  been  faulty,  but  since  innocence 

Is  to  it  self  an  hundred  thousand  gards, 

And  that  there  is  no  Son,  but  though  he  owe 

That  name  to  an  ill  mother,  but  stands  bound 

Rather  to  take  away  with  his  own  danger 

From  the  number  of  her  faults,  than  for  his  own 

Security,  to  add  unto  them.     This, 

This  hath  made  me  to  prevent  th'expence 

Of  bloud  on  both  sides,  the  injuries,  the  rapes, 

(Pages,  that  ever  wait  upon  the  war  :) 

The  account  of  all  which,  since  you  are  the  cause, 

Believe  it,  would  have  been  required  from  you  ; 

Rather  I  say  to  offer  up  my  daughter, 

Who  living  onely  could  revenge  my  death, 

With  my  heart   blood  a  sacrifice  to  your  anger 

Than  that  you  should  draw  on  your  head  more  curses 

Than  yet  you  have  deserved. 

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

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

Thier.     Fie  no  more  of  that. 

Theod.     Ala[s]  it  is  a  theme, 
I  take  no  pleasure  to  discourse  of;    Would 
It  could  assoon  be  buried  to  the  world, 
As  it  should  die  to  me  :    nay  more,  I  wish 
(Next  to  my  part  of  heaven)  that  she  would  spend 

15 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF          ACT  n 

The  last   part  of  her  life  so   here,  that  all 

Indifferent  Judges  might  condemn   me,   for 

A   most  malicious  slanderer,   nay  texde  it 

Upon   my   forehead,   if  you  hate  me  mother, 

Put  me  to  such  a  shame,  pray  you  do,   believe  it 

There  is  no  glory  that  may  fall   upon   me, 

Can  equall  the  delight  I  should  receive 

In  that  disgrace  ;    provided  the  repeal 

Of  your  long  banish'd  virtues,  and  good  name, 

Usher'd  me  to  it. 

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

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

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

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

Prota.     Yes  I  find  it  fit, 

That  putting  off  my  armor  I  should  think  of 
Some  honest  hospitall  to  retire  to. 

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

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

Mart.     Note  but  yonder  scarabs, 
That  liv'd  upon  the  dung  of  her  base  pleasures, 
How  from  the  fear  that  she  may  yet  prove  honest 
Hang  down  their  wicked   heads. 
Vitry.     What  is  that  to  me  ? 

Though  they  and  all  the  pol[e]cats  of  the  Court, 
Were  trust  together,  I  perceive  not  how 
It  can  advantage  me  a  cardekue, 
To  help  to  keep  me  honest.  \A  horn. 

Enter  a  Post. 

Thier.     How,  from  whence  ? 
16 


Sc.  i   THIERRY  AND  THEODORET 

Post.     These  letters  will  resolve  your  grace. 
Thier.     What  speak  they  ?  [Reads. 

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

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

Thier.     Two  dayes  journy  sayest  thou, 
We  will  set  forth  to  meet  her  :    in  the  mean  time 
See  all  things  be  prepar'd  to  entertain  her ; 
Nay  let  me  have  your  companies,  there's  a  Forrest 
In  the  midway  shall  yeild  us  hunting  sport, 

To  ease  our  travel,  I'll  not  have  a  brow 

But  shall  wear  mirth  upon  it,  therefore  clear  them. 

We'll  wash  away  all  sorrow  in  glad  feasts  ; 

And  the  war  we  mean  to  men,  we'll  make  on  beasts. 

[Exeunt  omnes,  prater  Brun.  Bawdber,  Porta/dy,  Lecure. 
Brun.     Oh  that  I  had  the  Magick  to  transforme  you 

Into  the  shape  of  such,  that  your  own  hounds 

Might  tear  you  peece-meale  ;    Are  you  so  stupid  ? 

No  word  of  comfort  ?    have  I  fed  you  mothers 

From  my  excess  of  moysture,  with  such  cost 

And  can  you  yeild  no  other  retribution, 

But  to  devour  your  maker,  pandar,  sponge, 

Impoysoner,  all  grown  barren  ? 
Prota.     You  your  self 

That  are  our  mover,  and  for  whom  alone 

We  live,  have  fail'd  your  self  in  giving  way 

To  the  reconcilement  of  your  [sonnes]. 
Lecure.     Which  if 

B.-F.  X.  B  17 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF  ACT  n 

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

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

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

Lecure.     If  so,  from  whence 
Grows  your  affliction  ? 

Brun.     My  grief  comes  along 

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

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

Brun.     Tush,  some  other  way. 

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

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

Brun.     What  [ist]  ?    but  effect  it, 
And  thou  shalt  be  my  Msculapius, 

18 


Sc.  i   THIERRY  AND  THEODORET 

Thy  image  shall  be  set  up  in  pure  gold, 
To  which  I'll  fall  down  and  worship  it. 

Lecure.     The  Lady  is  fair. 

Brun.     Exceeding  fair. 

Lecure.     And  young. 

Brun.     Some  fifteen  at  the  most. 

Lecure.     And  loves  the  King  with  equall  ardor. 

Brun.     More,  she  dotes  on  him. 

Lecure.     Well  then,  [what]  think  you  if  I  make  a  drink 
Which  given  unto  him  on  the  bridall  night 
Shall  for  five  days  so  rob  his  faculties, 
Of  all  ability  to  pay  that  duty, 

Which  new  made  wives  expert,  that  she  shall  swear 
She  is  not  match'd  to  a  man. 

Prota.     'Twere  rare. 

Lecure.     And  then, 

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

Brun.     'Tis  excellent. 

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

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

\Wind  horns. 

Enter   Tbeodoret^   Thierry. 
Theod.     This  Stag  stood  well,  and  cunningly. 

B  2  19 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF  ACT  n 

Thierry.      My   horse, 

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

Enter  Martell. 

Theodoret.     Past  homeward,  weary  and  tir'd  as  we  are, 
Now  Martd^  have  you  remembred  what  we  thought  of  ? 

Mart.     Yes  Sir,  I  have  snigled  him,  and   if  there  be 
Any   desert  in  his  blood,   beside  the  itch, 
Or  manly  heat,  but  what  deco6tions 
Leaches,  and  callises  have  cram'd  into  him, 
Your  Lordship  shall  know  perfect. 

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

Theod.      Yes  Sir, 
To  that  end  we  cast  the  project. 

Thierry.     What  [ist]  ? 

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

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

Mart.     I  lost  it  else  Sir. 

20 


Sc.  i   THIERRY  AND  THEODORET 

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

Theod.     That's  the  thing. 

n\te]r.     And  my  best  horse  is  thine. 

Mart.     Your  Graces  servant.  [Exit. 

Theod.     [You'le]  hunt  no  more  Sir. 

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

Enter  2   Huntsmen. 

1.  I  marry  Twainer, 

This  woman  gives  indeed,  these  are  the  Angels 
That  are  the  keepers  saints. 

2.  I  like  a  woman 

That  handles  the  deers  dowsets  with  discretion  ; 
And  payes  us  by  proportion. 

1.  'Tis  no  treason 

To  think  this  good  old  Lady  has  a  stump  yet 
That  may  require  a  corrall. 

2.  And  the  bells  too. 

Enter  Protaldye. 

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

Prota.     How  now  Keepers, 
Saw  you  the  King  ? 

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

Pro.     Farew[e]ll  then.  [Exit  Keepers. 

Enter  Martell. 

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

Prota  Id.     How  Sir  ?   I  know  ye  not 
Nor  what  your  fortune  means. 

Mart.     Few  words  shall  serve,  I  am  betrai'd  Sir  : 
Innocent  and  honest ;    malice  and  violence, 
Are  both  against  me,  basely  and  foully  layd  for  ; 

21 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF          ACT  n 

For  my  life  Sir,  danger  is  now  about   me, 
Now  in  my  throat  Sir. 

Protald.      Where  Sir? 

Mart.      Nay   I  fear  not, 

And  let  it  now  powr  down  in  storms  upon   me, 
I   have  met  with  a  noble  guard. 

Prot.     Your  meaning  Sir, 
For  I  have  present  business. 

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

Prot.     What  six  ? 

Mart.     Six  villains  sworn,  and  in  pay  to  kill   me. 

Protaldye.     Six  ?  (are  present  ? 

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

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

Mart.     There  are   but  four  Sir, 
I  did  mistake   them  ;    but  four  such  as  Europe, 
Excepting  your  great  valour. 

Prot.     Well  consider'd, 

I   will  not  meddle  with  'em,  four  in  honor, 
Are  equall  with  fourscore,  besides  they  're  people 

22 


Sc.  i   THIERRY  AND  THEODORET 

Only  directed  by  their  fury. 

Mart.     So  much  nobler  shall  be  your  way  of  justice. 

Prot.     That  I  find  not. 

Mart.     You  will  not  leave  me  thus  ? 

Prot.     I  would  not  leave  you,  but  look  you  Sir, 
Men  of  my  place  and  business,  must  not 
Be  questioned  thus. 

Mart.     You  cannot  pass  Sir, 

Now  they  have  seen  me  with  you  without  danger. 
They  are  here  Sir,  within  hearing,  take  but  two. 

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

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

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

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

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

Mart.     Yes, 
This  is  he  Sir,  the  basest  in  the  kingdome. 

Prot.     Do  you  know  me  ? 

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

Prot.     The  best  man  best  knows  patience. 

Mart.     Yes, 

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

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

Mart.     Now  get  you  home,  and  tell  your  Lady  Mistris, 
Shee  has  shot  up  a  sweet  mushrum  ;    quit  your  place  too, 
And  say  you  are  counsel'd  well,  thou  wilt   be  beaten  else 
By  thine  own  lanceprisadoes  ;    when  they  know  thee, 
That  tuns  of  oyl  of  roses  will  not  cure  thee  ; 

23 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF  ACT  n 

Goe  get  you  to  your  foyning  work  at   Court, 
And  learn   to  sweat  again,  and  eat   dry   mutton  ; 
An  armor  like  a   frost  will  search   your  bones 
And  make  you  roar  you   rogue  ;    Not  a   reply, 
For  if  you  doe,  your  ears  goe  off. 

Prot.     Still   patience.  [Exeunt. 

[Loud  musick,      A  Banquet  set  out. 

Enter   Thierry,   Qrdella,  Brunhalt^   Theodoret,  Lecure^ 


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

Ordella.     Sir,  the  consent, 

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

Thier.     Mother, 

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

Brun.     Which  I'll  provide, 
Shall  be  short  liv'd  Lecure. 

Lecure.      I  have  it  ready. 

Brun.     'Tis  well,  wait  on  our  cup. 

Lecure.     You  honor  me. 

Thier.     We  are  dull, 
No  objecl:  to  provoke  mirth. 

Theod.     Mar  tell, 

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

Thier.     Touching  Protaldye. 

Theod.     You  have  it. 

Brun.     What  of  him  ?    I  fear  his  baseness  [aside. 

24 


Sc.  i   THIERRY  AND  THEODORET 

In  spight  of  all  the  titles  that  my  favours 
Have  cloth'd  him,  which  will  make  discovery 
Of  what  is  yet  conceal'd. 

Enter  Mart  ell. 

Theod.      Look  Sir,  he  has  it, 

Nay  we  shall  have  peace  when  so  great  a  soldier 
As  the  renoun'd  P\ro\taldye,  will  give  up 
His  sword  rather  then  use  it. 

Brun.     'Twas  thy  plot, 
Which  I  will  turn  on  thine  own  head.  [aside. 

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

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

Thier.     Possible  ? 

Theod.     Observe  but  how  she  frets. 

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

Brun.     Slave  thou  liest, 

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

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

25 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF  ACT  n 

Brun.      Villany. 

Theod.      You  are   too   violent. 

Enter  Protaldye. 

The  worst  that  can  come 

Is   blanketing  ;    for  beating,  and  such  virtues 

I  have  been  long  acquainted  with. 

Mart.     Oh  strange  ! 

Bawdb.     Behold  the  man  you  talk  of. 

Brun.      Give   me  leave, 

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

Prot.     I   have   it, 

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

Thier.     This  is  rare. 

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

Thier.      Nay  Marte/[l] 
You  must  not  fall  off. 

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

Prot.     Yes. 

Mart.     Pray  you  on  what  terms 
Did  you  part  with  it  ? 

Prot.     Part  with  it  say  you  ? 

Mart.     So. 

Thier.     Nay,  study  not  an  answer,  confess  freely. 

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

26 


Sc.  i   THIERRY  AND  THEODORET 

I  would  vouchsafe  to  let  him  use  my  sword, 
To  cut  off  the  Stags  head. 

Brun.     Will  you  hear  that  ? 

Bawdb.     This  Lye  bears  a  similitude  of  Truth. 

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

Mart.     Oh   impudence  ! 

Thier.     This  change  is  excellent. 

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

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

Thier.     Ha,  ha,  forbear. 

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

Prot.     No,  that's  my  office. 

Bawdb.     Fie,  you  take  the  Hangmans  place. 

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

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

Theod.     Nay  Martel\T\   you  must  be  patient. 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF          ACT  n 

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

Thier.      Sit  all  ; 

One   health,  and  so  to  bed,  for  I  too  long 
Deferr   my  choicest  delicates. 

Brun.      Which   if  poison 
Have  any   power,   thou  shalt  like   Tantalus 
Behold  and  never  taste,   be  careful. 

Lecu.      Fear  not. 

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

Thier.     Let  it  come  freely. 

Brun.     Lecurey  the  cup  ;    here  to  the  son  we  hope 
This  night  shall   be  an   Embrion. 

Thier.     You  have  nam'd 

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

Brun.     Nay,  then  you  wrong  me, 
Follow  as  I  began. 

Thier.     Well  as  you  please. 

Brun.     Is't  done  ? 

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

Thier.     So  'tis  gone  round,  lights. 

Brun.      Pray  you  use  my  service. 

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

Thier.     Good  rest  to  all. 

Theod.     And  to   [you]  pleasant  labour.    Mart[e//] 
Your  company,  Madam,  good  night. 

[Exeunt  all  but  Brunhalt,  Protal,  Lecure,  Bawdber. 

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

Prot.     Why  would  you  have  me  lose 
That   bloud  that  is  dedicated  to  your  service 

28 


Sc.  i   THIERRY  AND  THEODORET 

In  any  other  quarrel  ? 

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

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

Brun.     Why  one,  Sir,  that  would  thus  be  box'd 
Or  kiclc'd,  do  you  apprehend  me  now  ? 

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

Pro.     He  shall. 

Bawdb.     Besides 

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

Brun.     That  shall  make  way  to  it. 

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

Prot.     True,  it  should. 

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

Brun.     'Tis  much  the  better. 

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

Brun.     Thou  art  in  the  right. 

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

Brun.     Out  you  pandar, 
Why,  to  beat  thee  is  only  exercise 
For  such  as  do  affe6t  it,  lose  not  time 
In  vain  replies,  but  do  it  :    come  my  solace 
Let  us  to  bed,  and  our  desires  once  quench'd 
We'll  there  determine  of  Theodorets  death 
For  he's  the  Engine  us'd  to  ruin  us  j 

29 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF         ACT  m 

Yet  one  wor[d]   more,  Lecurey  art   thou  assur'd 
The   potion   will   work  ? 

Lccure.     My   life   upon   it. 

Brun.     Come   my   Protaldye,  then  glut   me  with 
Those  best  delights  of  man,   that  are   deny'd 
To  her  that  does  expert  them,   being  a  Bride. 


A 51  us  Tertius.     Sccena  Prima. 

Enter  Thierry,  and  Ordella,  as  from  bed. 

Thier.    O  Ure  I  have  drunk  the  bloud  of  Elephants  : 

v^5    The  tears  of  Mandrake,  and  the  Marble  dew, 
Mixt  in   my  draught,   have  quencht  my  natural  heat, 
And   left  no  spark  of  fire,   but   in   mine  eyes, 
With  which  I   may   behold  my  miseries  : 
Ye  wretched   flames  which   play  upon  my  sight, 
Turn  inward,  make  me  all  one  piece,  though  earth. 
My  tears  shall  over-whelm  you  else  too. 

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

Thier.     Are  you  yet  frozen  veins,  feel  you  a  breath, 
Whose  temperate  heat  would  make  the  North  Star  reel, 
Her  Icy  pillars  thaw'd,  and  do  you  not  melt  ? 
Draw  nearer,  yet  nearer, 

That  from  thy  barren  kiss  thou  maist  confess 
I  have  not  heat  enough  to  make  a  blush. 

Ordel.     Speak  nearer  to  my  understanding,  like  a  Husband. 

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

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

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

Ordel.     Strive  not  to  win  content  from  ignorance 

30 


Sc.  i   THIERRY  AND  THEODORET 

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

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

Ordel.     I  know  no  bar. 

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

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

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

31 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF         ACT  in 

Ordel.     We  are  but  to  praise  the  coolness  of  their  streams. 

Thier.     Nor  view'd  the  Kids,  taught  by  their  lustful  [sjires, 
Pursue  each  other  through  the  wanton   lawns, 
And  lik'd  the  sport. 

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

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

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

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

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

Thier.     Or  shed  a  tear  that's  warm. 

Ordel.     But  in  your  sadness. 

Thier.    Or  when  you  hear  the  birds  call  for  their  mates, 
Ask  if  it  be  St.   Valentine,  their  coupling  day. 

Ordel.     If  any  thing  may  make  a  thought  suspecled 
Of  knowing  any  happiness  but  you, 
Divorce  me,  by  the  Title  of  Most  Falshood.  (a  friend  ? 

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

Enter  Theodoret,  Brunhalt,  Martel,  Protaldye. 

Mart.     All  happiness  to   Thierry  and   Ordella. 

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

32 


Sc.  i   THIERRY  AND  THEODORET 

Brun.     What  passion  sways  my  Son  ? 

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

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

Thier.     Brother,  friends,  if  honor  unto  shame 
If  wealth  to  want  inlarge  the  present  sense, 
My  joyes  are  unbounded,  instead  of  question 
Let  it  be  envy,  not  bring  a  present 

To  the  high  offering  of  our  mirth,  Banquets,  and  Masques  ; 
Keep  waking  our  delights,  mocking  nights  malice, 
Whose  dark  brow  would  fright  pleasure  from  us, 
Our  Court  be  but  one  st[a]ge  of  Revels,  and  each  [e]ye 
The  Scene  where  our  content  moves. 

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

Mart.     Till  now  I  ne'er  repented  the  estate 
Of  Widower.  (presence 

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

Mart,      This  passion's  above  utterance. 

Theod.     Nay,  credulity.       [Exit  all  but  Thierry,  Brunhalt. 

Brun.      Why  Son  what  mean  you,  are  you  a  man  ? 

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

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

Thier.    That  being  no  man,  I  am  married  to  no  woman; 
The  best  of  men  in  full  ability, 
Can  only  hope  to  satisfie  a  wife, 
And  for  that  hope  ridiculous,  I  in  my  want 
And  such  defective  poverty,  that  to  her  bed 
From  my  first  Cradle  brought  no  strength  but  thought, 
Have  met  a  temperance  beyond  hers  that  rockt  me, 
Necessity  being  her  bar  ;    where  this 
Is  so  much  sensless  of  my  depriv'd  fire  ; 

B.-F.  x.  c  33 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF         ACT  in 

She  knows  it   not  a  loss  by   her  desire. 

Brun.     It   is  beyond  my  admiration. 

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

Brun.     Alas,  'tis  your  defecl  moves  my  amazement, 
But  what   [i]ll  can   be  separate  from  ambition  ? 
Cruel    Theodoret. 

Thier.     What,  of  my  brother  ? 

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

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

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

Thier.     You  teach  a  deaf  man  language. 

Brun.     The  cause  found  out,  the  malady  may  cease, 
Have  you  heard  of  one  Forts  ? 

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

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

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

Enter  Lccure. 

Brun.     Wisdom  prepares  you  to't,  Lecure^  met  happily. 

Lecure.    The  ground  answers  your  purpose,  the  conveyance] 
Being  secure  and  easie,  falling  just 
Behind  the  state  set  for   Theodoret. 

Brun.     'Tis  well,  your  trust  invites  you  to  a  second  charge, 
You  know  Lefortes  Cell. 

Lecure.     Who  constellated  your  fair  birth. 

34 


Sc.  i   THIERRY  AND  THEODORET 

Brun.    Enough,  I  see  thou  know'st  him,  where's  Bawdber  ? 

Lee.     I  left  him  careful  of  the  project  cast, 
To  raise  Protaldiis  credit. 

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

Enter  Bawdber  and  a  servant. 

Bawdb.     This  man  of  war  will  advance. 

Lecu.     His  hour's  upon  the  stroke. 

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

Enter  Devitry. 

Lecu.    The  Gentleman  is  within  your  reach  Sir.     [Exit. 

Bawdb.  Give  ground,  whilst  I  drill  my  wits  to  the  en- 
Devitry,  I  take  it.  (counter, 

Devi.     All's  that  left  of  him. 

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

Pitry.     You  seek  too  hard  a  pennyworth. 

Bawdb.    You  too  ill  to  keep  such  distance ;  your  parts  have 

been  long  known 
To  me,  howsoever  you  please  to  forget  acquaintance. 

Fit.    I  must  confess  I  have  been  subject  to  lewd  company. 

Bawdb.     Thanks  for  your  good  remembrance, 
You  have  been  a  soldier  Devitry,  and  born[e]  Arms. 

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

Bawdb.     Much  good  may  it  do  you,  Sir. 

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

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

yitry.     It  may  be  your  worship  will  say  bawdry. 

C2  35 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF         ACT  in 

Bawdb.     True  sense,   bawdry. 

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

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

y'ltry.      But   thus  much. 

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

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

Enter  Protaldy,  a  Lady,  and  Revellers. 

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

y'ltry.     Leave  it  to  my  handling,  I'll  fall  upon't  instantly. 

Bawdb.     What  opinion  will  the  managing  of  this  affair 
Bring  to  my  wisdom  ?    my  invention  tickles 
With  apprehension  on't  : 

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

Lady.      How  should  I,  being  partner  oft  ? 

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

yitry.     Will  you  have  a  relish  of  wit,  Lady  ? 

Bawdb.     This  is  the  man. 

Lady.     If  it  be  not  dear,  Sir. 

Vitry.  If  you  affecl:  cheapness,  how  can  you  prize  this 
sullied  ware  so  much  ?  mine  is  fresh,  my  own,  not  retail'd. 

Pro.     You  are  saucy,  sirrah. 

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

Bawdb.  Remember  the  condition  as  you  look  for  pay- 
ment. 

36 


Sc.  i   THIERRY  AND  THEODORET 

Vitry.     That  box  was  left  out  of  the  bargain. 
Pro.     Help,  help,  help. 

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

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

Thier.     What  villain  dares  this  outrage  ? 

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

Omnes.     Ha,   ha,   ha,  ha. 

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

Thier.     Forbear  these  civil  jars,  fie  Protaldy, 
So  open  in  your  projects,  avoid  our  presence,  sirrah. 

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

Theo.     There's  somewhat  for  thy  labour, 
More  than  was  promised,  ha,  ha,  ha. 

Bawdb.    Where  could  I  wish  my  self  now?  in  the  Isle  of 

Dogs. 

So  I  might  scape  scratching,  for  I  see  by  her  Cats  eyes 
I  shall  be  claw'd  fearfully. 

Thier.     We'll  hear  no  more  on't,  [S°fi  Mustek. 

Musick  drown  all  sadness  ; 

Command  the  Revellers  in,  at  what  a  rate  I  do  purchase 
My  Mothers  absence,  to  give  my  spleen  full  liberty. 

Brun.     Speak  not  a  thoughts  delay,  it  names  thy  ruin. 

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

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

Pro.    I  cannot  feel  more  than  I  fear,  I'm  sure.     [Withdraws. 

Brun.     Be  gone,  and  let  them  laugh  their  own  destruction. 

Thier.     You  will  add  unto  her  rage. 

37 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF         ACT  HI 

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

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

Memb.    Would  you  would  please  to  make  some  other  choise. 

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

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

[They  Dance. 

Thier.     You  are  too  much  libertine. 

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

Thier.      Forbear  I  say. 

Prot.     No  eye  looks  this  way,  I   will  wink  and  strike, 
Lest  I   betray  my  self.  [Behind  the  State  stabs  Theodoret. 

Theo.      Ha,  did  you  not  see  one  near  me  ? 

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

Memb.     Oh  my  presage  !    Father. 

Ordella.      Brother. 

Mart.     Prince,  Noble   Prince. 

Thier.     Make  the  gates  sure,  search  into  every  angle 
And  corner  of  the  Court,  oh  my  shame  !    Mother, 
Your  Son   is  slain,   Theodoret^  noble   Theodoret, 
Here  in  my  arms,  too  weak  a  San&uary 
'Gainst  treachery  and   murder,  say,  is  the  Traitor  taken  ? 

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

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

Brun.     What  mean  you  ?    give  me  your  private   hearing. 

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

Brun.     E'er  a  Torch  can  take  flame,  I  will  produce 
The  author  of  the  facl. 

Thier.     Withdraw  but   for  your  Lights. 

38 


Sc.  i   THIERRY  AND  THEODORET 

Memb.     Oh  my  too  true  suspition. 

[Exeunt  Martel,  Memberg. 

Thier.     Speak,  where's  the  Engine  to  this  horrid  aft  ? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

39 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF         ACT  in 

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

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

Brun.     You   will   not   fire   the  house  then  ? 

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

Brun.  Protaldye^  rise  good  faithful  servant,  heaven  knows 
How  hardly  he  was  drawn  to  this  attempt. 

Enter  Protaldye. 

Thier.     Protaldye  ?    he  had  a  Gard'ners  fa[t]e  I'll  swear  : 
[FJell  by  thy  hand,  Sir,  we  doe  owe  unto  you  for  this  service. 
Brun.     Why  lookest  thou  so  dejecled  ? 

Enter  Martel. 

Prot.     I  want  a  little  shift,  Lady,  nothing  else. 

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

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

Mart.      His  fate  to  live  a  Prince, 
Thou  old  impiety,  made  up  by  lust  and  mischief, 
Take  up  the  body.  [Exeunt  with  the  body  <?/"Theod. 

Enter  Lecure  and  a  Servant. 

Lecu.      Dost  think  Leforte's  sure  enough  ? 

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

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

Ser.     You  are  so  far  'bove  likeness,  you  are  the  same, 
If  you  love  mirth,  perswade  him  from  himself. 
Tis  but  an  Astronomer  out  of  the  way, 

40 


Sc.  i   THIERRY  AND  THEODORET 

And  lying,  will  bear  the  better  place  for't. 

Lecure.     I  have  profitabler  use  in  hand,  haste  to  the  Queen 
And  tell  her  how  you  left  me  chang'd.  [Exit  Servant. 

Who  would  not  serve  this  virtuous  aftive  Queen  ? 
She  that  loves  mischief  'bove  the  man  that  does  it, 
And  him  above  her  pleasure,  yet  knows  no  heaven  else. 

Enter  Thierry. 

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

Lecure.     The  same  to  you,  you  bring,  Sir. 

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

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

Thie.     He  is  nobly  born. 

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

Thier.     The  question   is,  of  Heirs,  not  Lands. 

Lecure.     Heirs,  yes,  he  shall  have  Heirs. 

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

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

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

Lecure.     Your  Grace   doth  wrong  your   Stars;    if  this  be 
You  may  have  children. 

Thier.     Speak  it  again. 

Lecure.     You  may  have  fruitful  issue. 

Thier.     By  whom  ?    when  ?    how  ? 

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

41 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF         ACT  iv 

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

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

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

Lecure.     Then   thus, 

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

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

Affius  Quartus.     Sccena  Prima. 

Enter  Thierry  and  Martel. 

Mart.  "X/'Our  Grace  is  early  stirring. 

X        Thier.     How  can  he  sleep, 
Whose  happiness  is  laid  up  in  an  hour 
He  knows  comes  stealing  towar[d]   him,   Oh   Martel  \ 
Is't  possible  the  longing  Bride,  whose  wishes 
Out-runs  her  fears,  can  on  that  day  she  is  married 
Consume  in  slumbers,  or  his  Arms  rust  in  ease, 
That  hears  the  charge,  and  sees  the  honor'd  purchase 
Ready  to  [gild]  his  valour  ?     Mine  is  more 
A  power  above  these  passions  ;    this  day  France, 
France  that  in  want  of  issue  withers  with  us  ; 

42 


Sc.  i    THIERRY  AND  THEODORET 

And  like  an  aged  River,  runs  his  head 

Into  forgotten  ways,  again  I  ransome, 

And  his  fair  course  turn  right  :   this  day   Thierry, 

The  Son  of  France,  whose  manly  powers  like  prisoners 

Have  been  tied  up,  and  fetter'd,  by  one  death 

Give  life  to  thousand  ages  ;    this  day  beauty 

The  envy  of  the  world,  Pleasure  the  glory, 

Content  above  the  world,  desire  beyond  it 

Are  made  mine  own,  and  useful. 

Mart.     Happy  Woman 
That  dies  to  do  these  things. 

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

Mart.     Sir,  y'are  lost. 

Thier.     I  prethee  let  me  be  so. 

Mart.     The  day  wears, 

And  those  that  have  been  offering  early  prayers, 
Are  now  retiring  homeward. 

Thier.     Stand  and  mark  then. 

Mart.     Is  it  the  first  must  suffer. 

Thier.     The  first  Woman. 

Mart.     What  hand  shall  do  it,  Sir  ? 

Thier.     This  hand  Martell, 
For  who  less  dare  presume  to  give  the  gods 
An  incense  of  this  offering  ? 

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


43 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF         ACT  iv 

Enter  two  men  passing  over. 

Thicr.      What  are  those  ? 
Mart.      Men,   men,  Sir,   men. 
Thier.     The  plagues  of  men   light  on   'em, 
They  cross  my   hopes  like  Hares,  who's  that  ? 

Enter  a  Priest. 

Mart.     A   Priest,  Sir. 
Thier.     Would  he  were  gelt. 
Mart.     May  not  these  rascals  serve,  Sir, 
Well  hang'd  and  quarter'd  ? 
Thicr.     No. 
Mart.     Here  comes  a  woman. 

Enter  Ordella  veiTd. 

Thier.     Stand  and   behold  her  then. 

Mart.     I   think  a  fair  one. 

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

Ordel.     Sh'  is  more  than  dull,  Sir,  less,  and  worse  than 

Woman, 

That  may  inherit  such  an  infinite 
As  you  propound,  a  greatness  so  near  goodness  ; 
And  brings  a  Will  to  rob  her. 

44 


Sc.  i     THIERRY  AND  THEODORET 

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

Or  del.     Many  dead  Sir, 
Living  I  thinfke]  as  many. 

Thier.     Say,  the  kingdom 

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

Ordel.     A  general  curse 
Light  on  her  heart,  denies  it. 

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

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

Thier.     You  may,  and  which  is  more,  you  must. 

Ordel.     I  joy  in't, 

Above  a  moderate  gladness,  Sir,  you  promise 
It  shall  be  honest. 

Thier.      As  ever  time  discovered. 

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

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

Ordel.     Only  her  duty,  Sir. 

Thier.     'Tis  terrible. 

Ordel.     'Tis  so  much  the  more  noble. 

Thier.     'Tis  full  of  fearful  shadows. 

Ordel.      So  is  sleep,  Sir. 

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

Thier.     Suppose  it  death. 

Ordel.     I  do. 

Thier.     And  endless  parting 

45 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF          ACT  iv 

With  all  we  can   call  ours,  with  all  our  sweetness, 

With  youth,  strength,  pleasure,   people,   time,  nay  reason  : 

For  in   the  silent  grave,   no  conversation, 

No  joyful  tread  of  friends,  no  voice  of  Lovers, 

No  careful   Fathers  counsel,   nothing's   h[e]ard, 

Nor  nothing  is,   but  all  oblivion, 

Dust  and  an  endless  darkness,  and  dare  you  woman 

Desire  this  place  ? 

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

Thier.     Then  you  can  suffer  ? 

Or  del.     As  willingly  as  say  it. 

Thier.     Martell^  a  wonder, 
Here's  a  woman  that  dares  die,  yet  tell  me, 
Are  you  a  Wife  ? 

Or  del.     I  am  Sir. 

'Thier.     And  have  children  ? 
She  sighs  and   weeps. 

Ordel.     Oh   none  Sir. 

Thier.     Dare  you  venture 

For  a  poor  barren  praise  you  ne'er  shall  hear, 
To  part  with  these  sweet  hopes  ? 

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

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

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

Thier.    Thus  much  before  I  strike  then,  for  I  must  kill  you, 

46 


Sc.  i    THIERRY  AND  THEODORET 

The  gods  have  will'd  it  so,  they're  made  the  blessing 
Must  make  France  young  again,  and  me  a  man, 
Keep  up  your  strength  still  nobly. 

Ordel.     Fear  me  not. 

Thier.     And  meet  death  like  a  measure. 

Ordel.     I  am  stedfast. 

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

Ordel.     I  dare  Sir. 

Thier.      Ha  ?  [P«/[/]j  off  her  veil,  lets  fall  his  sword. 

Mar.     Oh  Sir,  you  must  not  doe  it. 

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

Ordel.     Strike,  Sir,  strike  ; 

And  if  in  my  poor  death  fair  France  may  merit, 
Give  me  a  thousand  blows,  be  killing  me 
A  thousand  days. 

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

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

Ordel.     Amazement 

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

Mart.     Oh  no  sweet  Lady. 

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

Mart.     Dear  Lady, 
It  was  not  meant  to  you. 

Ordel.     Else  where  the  day  is, 

47 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF          ACT  iv 

And  hours  distinguish  time,  time  runs  to  ages, 
And  ages  end   the  world,  I   had   been  spoken. 

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

Ordel.     If  I   have  transgrest, 
Forgive  me,  Sir. 

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

Ordel.     Still  'tis  I,  Sir, 

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

Mart.     Where  should  he  then  seek  children  ? 

Ordel.     Where  they  are 

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

Mart.     You  are  too  good, 
Too  excellent,  too  honest ;    rob  not  us 
And  those  that  shall  hereafter  seek  example, 
Of  such  inestimable  worthies  in  woman. 
Your  Lord  of  such  obedience,  all  of  honor 
In  coveting  a  cruelty  is  not  yours, 
A  Will  short  of  your  Wisdom  ;    make  not  error 
A  Tomb-stone  of  your  virtues,  whose  fair  life 
Deserves  a  constellation  :    your  Lord  dare  not ; 
He  cannot,  ought  not,  must  not  run  this  hazard, 


Sc.  i    THIERRY  AND  THEODORET 

He  makes  a  separation,  nature  shakes  at, 
The  gods  deny,  and  everlasting  justice 
Shrinks  back,  and  sheaths  her  sword  at. 

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

Mart.     Self-destru6tion  ! 

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

OrdeL     I  would   be  what  I  should  be. 

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

OrdeL     I  am  counsell'd. 

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

OrdeL     I  never  have  done  yet. 

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

OrdeL     Now  good  Martel  confirm  me. 

Mart.     I  will  Lady, 
And  every  hour  advise  you,  for  I  doubt 

B.-F.  x.  D  49 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF          ACT  iv 

Whether  this  plot  be  heavens,  or  hells ;    your  mother 

And   I  will  find   it,   if  it  be   in   mankind 

To  search  the  center  of  it  :    in  the  mean   time 

I'll  give  you  out  for  dead,  and  by  your  self, 

And  shew  the  instrument,  so  shall  I  find 

A  joy  that  will   betray   her. 

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

Mart.     Then  ever  live 
Both  able  to  engross  all  love,  and  give.  [Exeunt. 

Enter  Brunhalt,  Protaldye. 

Brun.     I'm  in  labour 

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

Enter  Lecure. 

Lecu.     If  in  the  supposition 

Of  her  death  in  whose  life  you  die,  you  ask  me, 
I  think  you  are  safe. 

Brun.     Is  she  dead  ? 

Lecu.     I  have  us'd 

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

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

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

50 


Sc.  i   THIERRY  AND  THEODORET 

From  closing,  until  death  perform  that  office. 

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

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

Lecu.     Nor  will  be  any  thing  without  you. 

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

Enter  Thierry  and  Courtiers. 

Lecu.     The  King. 

Tbier.     We'll  be  alone. 

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

Brun.     Coward  I  will  meet  it, 
And   know   from  whence  't  has  birth  :    Son,  kingly  Thierry. 

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

Brun.     Your  Mother. 

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

Brun.     Will  you  not  hear  me  ? 

Tbier.     To  lose  th'  ability  to  perform  those  duties 
For  which  I  entertain'd  the  name  of  Husband, 
Ask'd  more  than  common  sorrow  ;    but  t'impose 
For  the  redress  of  that  defect,  a  torture 
In  marking  her  to  death,  for  whom  alone 

D2  51 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF          ACT  iv 

I   felt   that  weakness  as  a   want,   requires 

More  than   the   making  the   head   bald  :    or   falling 

Thus  flat  upon   the  earth,  or  cursing  that  way, 

Or  praying  this,  oh   such   a  Scene  of  grief, 

And  so  set  down,  (the  world   the  stage  to  act  on) 

May  challenge  a  Tragedian   better  pra&is'd 

Than   I  am  to  express  it  ;    for  my  cause 

Of  passion   is  so  strong,  and   my   performance 

So  weak,  that  though   the  part  be  good,  I   fear 

Th'ill  adting  of  it,  will  defraud  it  of 

The  poor  reward  it  may  deserve,  mens  pity. 

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

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

Prot.     No,  not  we  Sir. 

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

Prot.     Alas  ;    we  will  wear  any  thing. 

Brun.     This  is  madness 
Take  but  my  counsel. 

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

Lfcu.     Madam. 

Prot.     Another  time  were  better. 

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

52 


Sc.  i   THIERRY  AND  THEODORET 

Enter  Martel. 

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

Mart.     I  would  it  might  excuse 
The  ill  1   bring  along. 

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

Mart.      And  such  attention 
As  is  due  to  the  last,  and  the  best  story 
That  ever  was  deliver'd,  will  become  you, 
The  griev'd   Ordella,  (for  all  other  titles 
But  take  away  from  that)  having  from  me 
Prompted  by  your  last  parting  groan,  enquired, 
What  drew  it  from  you,  and  the  cause  soon  learn'd  : 
For  she  whom  barbarism  could  deny  nothing, 
With  such  prevailing  earnestness  desir'd  it, 
'Twas  not  in  me,  though  it  had  been  my  death, 
To  hide  it  from  her,  she  I  say,  in  whom 
All  was,  that  Athens,  Rome,  or  warlike  Sparta, 
Have  registred  for  good  in  their  best  Women  : 
But  nothing  of  their  ill,  knowing  her  self 
Mark'd  out,  (I  know  not  by  what  power,  but  sure 
A   cruel  one)  to  dye,  to  give  you  children  ; 
Having  first  with  a  setled  countenance 
Look'd  up  to  Heaven,  and  then  upon  her  self, 
(It  being  the  next  best  object)  and  then  smil'd, 
As  if  her  joy  in  death  to  do  you  service, 
Would  break  forth,   in  despight  of  the  much  sorrow 
She  shew'd  she  had  to  leave  you  :    and  then  taking 
Me  by  the  hand,  this  hand  which  I  must  ever 
Love  better  than  I  have  done,  since  she  touch'd  it, 

53 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF          ACT  iv 

Go  said  she,  to  my  Lord,  (and   to  goe  to  him 

Is  such  a   happiness  I   must  not  hope  for) 

And  tell   him   that  he  too  much   priz'd  a  trifle 

Made  only  worthy  in   his  love,  and  her 

Thankful  acceptance,  for  her  sake  to  rob 

The  Orphan   Kingdom  of  such  guardians,  as 

Must  of  necessity  descend  [from]  him  ; 

And  therefore  in  some  part  of  recompence 

Of  his  much   love,  and   to  shew  to  the  world 

That  'twas  not  her  fault  only,   but   her  fate, 

That  did  deny  to  let  her  be  the  mother 

Of  such   most  certain  blessings  :    yet  for  proof, 

She  did  not  envy  her,  that  happy  her, 

That  is  appointed  to  them,  her  [q]uick  end 

Should   make  way  for  her,  which  no  sooner  spoke, 

But   in  a  moment  this  too  ready  engine 

Made  such  a  battery  in  the  choisest  Castle 

That  ever  nature  made  to  defend  life, 

That  strait  it  shook,  and  sunk. 

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

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

Thier.     I   hear  this,  and  yet  live  ; 

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

Mart.     Oh  Sir! 

54 


Sc.  i   THIERRY  AND  THEODORET 

Brun.     Dear  son. 
Prot.     Great  King. 
Thier.     Unhand  me,  am  I  fall'n 
So  low,  that  I  have  lost  the  power  to  be 
Disposer  of  my  own  life  ? 
Mart.     Be  but  pleas'd 
To  borrow  so  much  time  of  sorrow,  as 
To  call  to  mind  her  last  request,  for  whom 
(I  must  confess  a  loss  beyond  expression) 
You  turn  your  hand  upon  your  self,  'twas  hers 
And  dying  hers,  that  you  should  live  and  happy 
In  seeing  little  models  of  your  self, 
By  matching  with  another,  and  will  you 
Leave  any  thing  that  she  desir'd  ungranted  ? 
And  suffer  such  a  life  that  was  [l]aid  down 
For  your  sake  only  to  be  fruitless  ? 

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

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

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

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

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

55 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF          ACT  iv 

Thier.      Pray  you   no   more, 

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

Enter  Memberge. 

Memb.      One,  no  guard 

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

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

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

Brun.     I  charge  you  hear  her  not. 

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

Brun.     Drag  hence  the  wretch. 
Thier.     Forbear,  with   what  variety 
Of  torments  do  I  meet  !    oh   thou  hast  open'd 
A  Book,   in  which  writ  down   in  bloudy  Letters, 

56 


Sc.  i   THIERRY  AND  THEODORET 

My  conscience  finds  that  I  am  worthy  of 

More  than  I  undergoe,  but  I'll  begin 

For  my  Qrdellas  sake,  and  for  thine  own 

To  make  less  heavens  great  anger  :    thou  hast  lost 

A  father,  I  to  thee  am  so  ;    the  hope 

Of  a  good   Husband,  in  me  have  one  ;    nor 

Be  fearful  I  am  still  no  man,  already 

That  weakness  is  gone  from  me. 

Brun.     That  it  might  [Aside. 

Have  ever  grown  inseparably  upon  thee, 
What  will  you  do?     Is  such  a  thing  as  this 
Worthy  the  lov'd   Ordel/a's  place,  the  daughter 
Of  a  poor  Gardener  ? 
Afemb.     Your  Son. 
Thier.     The  power 
To  take  away  that  lowness  is  in  me. 

Brun.      Stay  yet,  for  rather  than   [that]   thou  shalt  add 
Incest  unto  thy  other  sins,  I  will 
With   hazard  of  my  own  life,   utter  all, 
Theodoret  was  thy  Brother. 
Thier.      You  deny'd   it 

Upon  your  oath,  nor  will  I  now  believe  you, 
Your  Protean  turnings  cannot  change  my  purpose. 

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

Brun.     Is  it  come  to  that  ? 

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

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

Lecu.     He's  past  all  cure,  that  only  touch  is  death. 
Thier.     This  night  I'll  keep  it, 

57 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF          ACT  v 

To  morrow  I  will  send  it  you,  and   full  of  my  affliction. 

[Exit  Thierry. 

Brun.     Is  the  poison   mortal  ? 

Lecu.     Above  the   help  of  Physick. 

Brun.     To   my  wish, 

Now   for  our  own  security,  you  Protaldye 
Shall  this  night  post  towards  Austracia^ 
With   Letters  to   Theodorets  bastard  son, 
In  which  we  will  make  known  what  for  his  rising 
We  have  done  to   Thierry:    no  denial, 
Nor  no  excuse  in  such  acts  must  be  thought  of, 
Which  all  dislike,  and  all  again  commend 
When  they  are  brought  unto  a  happy  end.  [Exeunt. 

AElus   Quintus.     Sccena  Prima. 

Enter  Devitry  and  four  Soldiers. 

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

Omnes.     We  understand  you  not  Captain. 

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

1.  If  they  want  Art  to  perswade  it,  I'll  keep  it  my  self. 
Devit.     So  you  be  not  a  partial  judge  in  your  own  cause, 
Omnes.     A   match.  (you  shall. 

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

I.     In  any  case  keep  your  high  stile,  it  is  not  charity  to 

58 


Sc.  i   THIERRY  AND  THEODORET 

shame  any  man,  much  less  a  virtue  of  your  eminence,  wherefore 
preserve  your  worth,  and  I'll  preserve  my  money. 

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

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

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

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

4.     'Foot  he'll  hoord  all  for  himself. 

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

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

Vitry.     Stand,  deliver. 

I.     Toot  what  mean  you,  you  will  not  rob  the  Exchequer  ? 

Vit.     Do  you  prate  ? 

1.  Hold,  hold,  here  Captain. 

2.  Why  I  could  have  done  this  before  you. 

3.  And  I. 

4.  And  I. 

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

59 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF          ACT  v 

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

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

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

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

3.  We  are  thieves  from  our  cradles,  and  will  dye  so. 
Vit.     Then  you  will  not  beg  again. 

Omnes.     Yes,  as  you  did,  stand,  and  deliver. 

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

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

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

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

2.     Come,  there  are  a  band  of  'em,  I'll  charge  single. 

[Exit  Soldier[$\. 

Enter  Protaldye. 

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

Devitry.     Who  goes  there  ? 

Prot.     Hey  ho,  here's  a  pang  of  preferment. 

Devi.     'Heart,  who  goes  there  ? 

60 


Sc.  i   THIERRY  AND  THEODORET 

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

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

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

Devit.     I  should  know  that  voice,  deliver. 

Enter  Soldiers. 

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

Devit.     Zones  down  with  him,  do  you  prate  ? 

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

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

Prot.     Alas  Sir,  all  the  physick  in  Europe  cannot  bind  me. 

Devit.  You  should  have  jewels  about  you,  stones,  precious 
stones. 

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

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

2.  'Foot  we  are  lost,  they  are  upon  us. 

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

3.  Which  way  shall  we  make  Sir  ? 

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

I.     You  are  sure  enough  I  warrant  you  Sir. 

Devit.     Darkness  befriend  you,  away.  [Exit  Soldiers. 

Prot.  What  tyrants  have  I  met  with,  they  leave  me  alone 
in  the  dark,  yet  would  not  have  me  cry.  I  shall  grow  wondrous 
melancho[l]y  if  I  stay  long  here  without  company ;  I  was  wont 
to  get  a  nap  with  saying  my  prayers,  I'll  see  if  they  will  work 
upon  me  now ;  but  then,  if  I  should  talk  in  my  sleep,  and  they 
hear  me,  they  would  make  a  Recorder  of  my  windpipe,  slit  my 

61 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF  ACT  v 

throat  :  heaven  be  prais'd,  I  hear  some  noise,  it  may  be  new 
purchase,  and  then  I  shall  have  fellows. 

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

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

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

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

Devit.     Then  you  have  met  with  thieves  too  I  see. 

Prot.     And  desire  to  meet  with  no  more  of  them. 

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

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

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

Prot.     Reach  me  thy  hands. 

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

Prot.     Sure  sayst  thou  ?    ha,  ha,  ha. 

Devit.  So  ho,  illo  ho.  \Witbin  Soldiers. 

Here  Captain,  here. 

Prot.     'Foot  what  do  you  mean  Sir  ? 

Enter  Soldiers. 

Devit.  A  trick  to  boot,  say  you  ;  here  you  dull  slaves, 
62 


Sc.  i   THIERRY  AND  THEODORET 

purchase,  purchase  the  soul  of  the  Rock,  Diamonds,  sparkling 
Diamonds. 

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

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

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

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

Devit.  Nay,  since  you  have  your  tricks,  and  your  con- 
veyances, we  will  not  leave  a  wrinkle  of  you  unsearcht. 

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

Devit.  Treason,  unheard  of  Treason,  monstrous,  monstrous 
villanies. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Omnes.     On  you  dogfish,  leech,  caterpillar. 

Devit.  A  longer  sight  of  him  will  make  my  rage  turn  pity, 
and  with  his  suddain  end,  prevent  revenge  and  torture,  wicked, 
wicked  Brunhalt.  [Exit. 

Enter  Bawdber  and  three  Courtiers. 

1.  Not  sleep  at  all,  no  means. 

2.  No  Art  can  do  it. 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF  ACT  v 

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

3.      How  came  he  so  ? 

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

i.     What  cure  has  he?  (glisters, 

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

1.  But  your  good  honor 

Has  a  prayefr]  in  store  if  all  should  faile. 

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

3.     Has  spoyl'd  your  primmer. 

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

Enter  Thierry,  on  a  bed,  with  Doftors  and  attendants. 

2.  Here's  the  King  Sir, 

And  those  that  will  pray  without  pay. 

Bawdb.     Then   pray  for  me  too. 

i.  Dott.      How  does  your  grace  now  feele  your  selfe  ? 

Thier.     What's  that? 

i.  Doff.     Nothing  at  all  Sir,  but  your  fancy. 

Thier.     Tell  me, 
Can  ever  these  eyes  more  shut  up  in  slumbers, 


Sc.  i    THIERRY  AND  THEODORET 

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

2.  Dott.     O   Sir,  be  patient. 

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

1.  Dott.     We  do  beseech  your  grace  be  more  reclam'd, 
This  talke  doth   but  distemper  you. 

Thier.     Well,  I  will  die 

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

2.  Dott.     Your  grace  shall  feele  it. 

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

B.-F.  X.  E  65 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF  ACT  v 

Enter  Martcll,   Brunhalty   Devitry,   souldiers. 

Mart.     No  woman, 

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

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

Mart.     Why  art  thou  such  a  monster  ? 

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

Mart.     Hope  of  hell, 

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

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

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

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

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

Mart.     She  nods  againe,  swing  her. 

Thier.     But  mother, 

For  yet  I  love  that  reverence,  and  to  death 
Dare  not  forget  you  have  bin  so ;    was  this, 
This  endlesse  misery,  this  curelesse  malice, 
This  snatching  from  me  all  my  youth  together, 

66 


Sc.  i.    THIERRY  AND  THEODORET 

All  that  you  made  me  for,  and  happy  mothers 
Crownde  with  eternall  time  are  proud  to  finish, 
Done  by  your  will  ? 

Brun.     It  was,  and  by  that  will. 

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

Brun.     Holy  foole, 

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

Tbier.     Heaven  forgive  you. 

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

Enter  Messenger. 

The  bringing  in  of  Leonor  the  bastard 

Son  to  your  murther'd  brother,  her  Physitian 

By  this  time  is  attacht  to  that  damn'd  devil. 

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

Brun.     He  did  like  one  of  mine  then. 

Thier.     Must  I  still  see  these  miseries,  no  night 

E  2  67 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF  ACT  v 

To  hide  me  from  their  horrors,  that  Protaldy 
See  justice  fall   upon. 

Brun.      Now   I  could  sleep  too. 

Enter  Ordella. 

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

Or  del.      I  do  forgive  you, 
And   though   you  sought  my  bloud,  yet  Til   pray  for  you. 

Brun.     Art  thou  alive  ? 

Mart.     Now  could  you  sleep  ? 

Brun.     For  ever. 

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

Tbier.     Do  her  no  wrong. 

Mart.     Nor  right,  as  you  love  justice. 

Brun.     I  will  think, 

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

Mart.     Keep   her  waking.  [Exit  Brunhalt. 

Thier.     What's  that  appears  so  sweetly?  there's  that  face. 

Mart.     Be  moderate,   Lady. 

Thier.     That  Angels  face. 

Mart.     Goe  nearer. 

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

Mart.      Yes  Sir,  and  you  shall  know  her. 

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

Mart.     Goe  nearer  Lady. 

Ordel.     I  c[o]me  to  make  you  happy. 

68 


Sc.  i   THIERRY  AND  THEODORET 

Thier.     Hear  you  that,  Sir  ? 

She  comes  to  crown  my  soul  :  away,  get  sacrifice 
Whilst  I  with  holy  Honors. 

Mart.     She's  alive.  Sir. 

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

Ordel.     Alas,  I  live  Sir, 
A  mortal  woman  still. 

Thier.     Can  spirits  weep  too  ? 

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

Thier.      Stay,  she  is  warm, 

And  by  my  life  the  same  lips  tell  me  brightness, 
Are  you  the  same  Ordella  still  ? 

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

Thier.     Kiss  me  again. 

Ordel.     The  same  still,  still  your  servant. 

Thier.     'Tis    she,    I    know    her    now    M artel-,    sit    down 

sweet. 

Oh  blest  and  happiest  woman,  a  dead  slumber 
Begins  to  creep  upon  me,  oh  my  jewel  ! 

Enter  Messenger  and  Memberge. 

Ordel.     Oh  sleep  my  Lord. 
Thier.     My  joyes  are  too  much  for  me. 
Mess.     Brunhalt  impatient  of  her  constraint  to  see 
Protaldye  tortur'd,  has  choak'd  her  self. 

Mart.     No  more,  her  sins  go  with  her. 

Thier.     Love,  I  must  die,  I  faint,  close  up  my  glasses. 

1  Dott.     The  Queen  faints  too,  and  deadly. 
Thier.     One  dying  kiss. 

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

Thier.     Thou  perfect  woman. 

Martel,  the  Kingdom's  yours,  take  Memberge  to  you, 
And  keep  my  line  alive ;    nay,  weep  not,  Lady, 
Take  me,  I  go. 

Ordel.     Take  me  too,  farewel  honour.  [Die  both. 

2  Dott.     They  are  gone  for  ever. 


THIERRY  AND  THEODORET    ACT  v 

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

Omnes.     We  your  subjects. 

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

\Exeunt  Omnes. 


70 


The   Woman- Hater. 


PROLOGUE. 

GEntlemen,  Inductions  are  out  of  date,  and  a  Prologue  in 
Verse,  is  as  stale  as  a  black  Velvet  Cloak,  and  a  Bay 
Garland  :  therefore  you  shall  have  it  plain  Prose,  thus  :  If  there 
be  any  amongst  you,  that  come  to  hear  lascivious  Scenes,  let  them 
depart  :  for  I  do  pronounce  this,  to  the  utter  discomfort  of  all 
twopenny  Gallery  men,  you  shall  have  no  bawdery  in  it  :  or 
if  there  be  any  lurking  amongst  you  in  corners,  with  Table-books, 

who  have  some  hope  to  find  fit  matter  to  feed  his malice  on, 

let  them  claspe  them  up,  and  slink  away,  or  stay  and  be  converted. 
For  he  that  made  this  Play,  means  to  please  Auditors  so,  as  he 
may  be  an  Auditor  himself  hereafter,  and  not  purchase  them  with 
the  dear  \Josse~\  of  his  \e\ares:  I  dare  not  call  it  Comedy  or  Tragedy; 
'tis  perfectly  neither  :  A  Play  it  is,  which  was  meant  to  make  you 
laugh,  how  it  [w /'//]  please  you,  is  not  written  in  my  Part  :  for 
though  you  should  like  it  to  day,  perhaps  your  selves  know  not  how 
you  should  digest  it  to  morrow  :  Some  things  in  it  you  may  meet 
with,  which  are  out  of  the  common  road :  a  Duke  there  is,  and 
the  Sc<xne  lies  in  Italy,  as  those  two  things  lightly  we  never  miss. 
But  you  shall  not  find  in  it  the  ordinary  and  over-worn  Trade 
of  jesting  at  Lords  and  Courtiers,  and  Citizens,  without  taxation 
of  any  particular  or  new  vice  by  them  found  out,  but  at  the  persons 
of  them  j  such,  he,  that  made  this,  thinks  vile,  and  for  his  own 
part  vows  ;  That  he  did  never  think,  but  that  a  \Lord\  born 
might  be  a  wise  man,  and  a  Courtier  an  honest  man. 


71 


THE  WOMAN-HATER         ACT  i 

Attus   Primus.      Scaim    Prnna. 

Enter  Duke  of  Millain,   Arrigo,   Lucio,  and  two   Courtiers. 

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

Arri.     Past  four. 

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

Lucio.     About  some  weighty  State  plot. 

Duke.     And  what  thinks  your  knighthood  of  it  ? 

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

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

Luc.     Your  Grace  is  careful. 

Arri.    Very  provident. 

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

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

Duke.     It  is  not  so. 

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

Duke.    Weightier  far  : 

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

Luc.     Y'are  wond'rous  careful  for  your  subjects  good. 

72 


Sc.  i  THE  WOMAN-HATER 

Arri.     You  are  a  very  loving  Prince  indeed. 

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

Arri.     Then  you  rise  to  see  your  wenches  ? 

Luc.  What  Milan  beauty  hath  the  power,  to  charme  her 
Sovereign  eyes,  and  break  his  sleeps  ? 

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

Luc.     My  Lord,  the  day  grows  clear,  the  Court  will  rise. 

Duk.  We  stay  too  long,  is  the  Umbranoes  head  as  we  com- 
manded, sent  to  the  sad  Gondarino,  our  General  ? 

Arr.     'Tis  sent. 

Duke.     But  stay,  where  shines  that  light  ? 

Arri.     'Tis  in  the  chamber  of  Lazaretto. 

Duke.     Lazarillo  ?    what   is  he  ? 

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

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

Lucio.     The  very  same  my  Lord. 

Duk\e\.     A  Courtier  call'st  thou  him  ? 
Believe  me  Lucio,  there  be  many  such 
About  our  Court,  respecled,  as  they  think, 
Even  by  our  self ;   with  thee  I  will  be  plain  : 
We    Princes   do   use,   to   preferre   many   for    nothing,   and   to 
take  particular  and  free  knowledg[e],  almost  in  the  nature  of 
acquaintance  of  many  ;   whom  we  do  use  only  for  our  plea- 
sures, and  [d]o  give  largely  to  numbers ;   more  out  of  policy  to 
be   thought   liberal,  and    by   that    means   to   make   the   people 
strive   to   deserve   our    Love ;    than   to   reward   any   particular 
desert  of  theirs,  to  whom  we  give  :  and  do  suffer  our  selves 
to  hear  flatterers,  more  for  recreation 

73 


THE  WOMAN-HATER         ACT  i 

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

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

Duke.     Thou  wond'rest  Lucia, 

Dost  not  thou  think,  if  thou  wert  Duke  of  Milan, 
Thou  should'st   be  flattered  ? 

Luc.     I  know  my  Lord,  I  would  not. 

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

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

Sccena  Secunda. 

Enter  Lazarillo  and  his  boy. 

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

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

Laz.  What  an  excellent  thing  did  God  bestow  upon 
man,  when  he  [did  give]  him  a  good  stomach  !  what  unbounded 
graces  there  are  pour'd  upon  them  that  have  the  continual 

74 


Sc.  ii         THE  WOMAN-HATER 

command  of  the  very  best  of  these  blessings  !   'tis  an  excellent 

thing    to    be    a    Prince  ;     he    is   serv'd    with    such    admirable 

variety  of  Fare  ;   such  innumerable   choice  of  Delicates  ;   his 

Tables   are  full   fraught  with   most   nourishing   food,  and   his 

Cubbards  heavy  laden   with    rich   Wines ;    his   Court   is  still 

filled  with  most  [pleasing  varieties]  :  In  the  Summer,  his  Palace 

is    full    of    Green    Geese ;    and    in    Winter    it    [swarmeth] 

Woodcocks, 

Oh  thou  goddess  of  Plenty 

Fill  me  this  day  with  some  rare  delicates 

And  I  will  every  year  most  constantly, 

As  this  day  celebrate  a  sumptuous  Feast, 

If  thou  wilt  send  me  victuals  in  thine  honor  ; 

And  to  it  shall  be  bidden  for  thy  sake, 

Even  all  the  valiant  stomachs  in  the  Court  : 

All  short-cloak'd  Knights,  and  all  cross-garter' d  Gentlemen  ; 

All  pump  and  pantofle,  foot-cloth  riders  ; 

With  all  the  swarming  generation 

Of  long  stocks,  short  pain'd  hose,  and  huge  stufPd  doublets: 

All  these  shall  eat,  and  which  is  more  than  yet 

Hath  e'er  been  seen,  they  shall  be  satisfied. 

I  wonder  my  Ambassador  returns  not  ! 

Enter  Boy. 

Boy.     Here  I  am  Master. 

Laza.     And  welcome  : 

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

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

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

Boy.     Here's  a  Bill  of  all  Sir. 

75 


THE  WOMAN-HATER         ACT  i 

Laza.     Give   it   me,  a   Bill  of  all   the  several  services  this 
day  appointed   for  every  Table    in   the   Court, 
I,   this  is  it  on   which   my  hopes  relye, 
Within   this  paper  all   my  joyes  are  clos'd  : 
Boy,  open   it,  and   read   it  with   reverence. 

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

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

Boy.     For  the  Dukes  own  Table,  the  head  of  an  Urnbrana. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

76 


Sc.  in        THE  WOMAN-HATER 

by  a  score  of  old  bleer-ey'd  Serving-men,  in  long  blew  coats, 
(marry  they  shall  buy  Silk,  Facing,  and  Buttons  themselves) 
but  that's  by  the  way. 

Boy.     Master  the  time  calls  on,  will  you  be  walking  ? 

[Exit  Boy. 

Laza.  Follow  boy,  follow,  my  guts  were  half  an  hour 
since  in  the  privy  Kitchin.  [Exeunt. 

Scan  a   T'ertia. 

Enter  Count,  and  bh  Sister  Oriana. 

Oria.     Faith  brother,  I  must  needs  go  yonder. 

Count.     And  faith  Sister  what  will  you  do  yonder  ? 

Oria.     I  know  the  Lady  Honoria  will  be  glad  to  see  me. 

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

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

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

Oria.     Why,  and  are  not  these  fine  sights  ? 

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

Oria.     Apt  ?  " 

Count.     Exceeding  apt[,  apt]  to  be  drawn  to. 

77 


THE  WOMAN-HATER         ACT  i 

Oria.     To  what  ? 

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

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

Count.     Your  servants  are  ready  ? 

j 

Oria.     An  hour  since. 

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

Oria.     Farewel  Brother. 

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

Now  am  I  idle,  I  would  I  had  been  a  Scholar,  that  I  might 
a  studied  now:  the  punishment  of  meaner  men  is,  they  have 
too  much  to  do  ;  our  only  misery  is,  that  without  company 
we  know  not  what  to  do ;  I  must  take  some  of  the  common 
courses  of  our  Nobility  ;  which  is  thus :  if  I  can  find  no 
company  that  likes  me,  pluck  off  my  Hatband,  throw  an 
old  Cloak  over  my  face,  and  as  if  I  would  not  be  known, 
walk  hastily  through  the  streets,  till  I  be  discovered ;  then 
there  goes  Count  such  a  one,  says  one  ;  there  goes  Count 
such  a  one,  says  another :  Look  how  fast  he  goes,  says  a 
third  ;  there's  some  great  matters  in  hand  questionless,  says 
a  fourth  ;  when  all  my  business  is  to  hav[e]  them  say  so  : 
this  hath  been  used ;  or  if  I  can  find  any  company,  I'll 
after  dinner  to  the  Stage,  to  see  a  Play  j  where,  when  I 

78 


Sc.  in        THE  WOMAN-HATER 

first  enter,  you  shall  have  a  murmure  in  the  house,  every 
one  that  does  not  know  cries,  What  Nobleman  is  that  ?  all 
the  Gallants  on  the  Stage  rise,  vail  to  me,  kiss  their  hand, 
offer  me  their  places  :  then  I  pick  out  some  one,  whom  I 
please  to  grace  among  the  rest,  take  his  seat,  use  it,  throw 
my  cloak  over  my  face,  and  laugh  at  him  :  the  poor  Gentle- 
man imagines  himself  most  highly  grac'd,  thinks  all  the 
Auditors  esteem  him  one  of  my  bosom  friends  ;  and  in  right 
special  regard  with  me.  But  here  comes  a  Gentleman,  that 
I  hope  will  make  me  better  sport,  than  either  street  and 
stage  fooleries. 

Enter  Lazarello  and  Boy. 

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

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

Boy.     Sir. 

Laza.     Will  the  Count  speak  with   me  ? 

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

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

Boy.     That  will  be  hard  Sir. 

Laza.     When  I  have  tasted  of  this  sacred  dish, 
Then  shall  my  bones  rest  in  my  Fathers  tomb 
In  peace  ;    then  shall  I  dye  most  willingly, 
And  as  a  dish  be  serv'd  to  satisfie, 
Deaths  hunger,  and  I  will  be  buried  thus  : 

79 


THE  WOMAN-HATER         ACT  i 

My   Bier  shall   be  a  charger  born   by   four, 
The  Coffin   where   I   lye,  a  powd'ring-tub, 
Bestrew'd   with   Lettice,  and  cool   Sallad  herbs, 
My  Winding-sheet  of  Tansies,  the   black  Guard 
Shall   be  my  solemn   Mourners,  and   instead 
Of  ceremonies,  wholsom   burial   Prayers  : 

'  j 

A  printed  dirge  in   rhyme,  shall   bury  me. 
Instead  of  tears,  let  them  pour  Capon  sauce  upon  my  hearse, 
And  salt  instead  of  dust,  Manchets  for  stones,  for  other  glorious 
Give  me  a  Voider  ;    and  above  my   Hearse  (shields 

For  a  Trutch  sword,  my  naked  knife  stuck  up. 

[The  Count  discovers  himself. 

Boy.     Master,  the  Count's  here. 

Laza.    Where  ?    my  Lord  I  do  beseech  you. 

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

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

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

Laza.  Perhaps  your  Lordship  takes  me  for  one  of  these 
same  fellows,  that  do  as  it  were  respecl:  victuals. 

Count.     Oh  Sir  by  no  means. 

Laza.  Your  Lordship  has  often  promised,  that  whenso- 
ever I  should  affecl:  greatness,  your  own  hand  should  help  to 
raise  me. 

Count.     And  so  much  still  assure  your  self  of. 

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

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

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

Count.     When  Sir? 

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

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

80 


Sc.  in        THE  WOMAN-HATER 

Laza.     Your  Lordship  shall  know  that  presently. 

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

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

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

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

Count.     In  what  Sir  ?    as  how  ? 

Laz.     Marry  as  thus — 

Enter  \T\ntelligencer. 

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

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

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

Laza.     Your  Lordships  ever. 

Count.  This  fellow  is  a  kind  of  an  informer,  one  that 
lives  in  Alehouses  and  Taverns,  and  because  he  perceives 
some  worthy  men  in  this  Land,  with  much  labour  and  great 
expence,  to  have  discovered  things  dangerously  hanging  over 
the  State  ;  he  thinks  to  discover  as  much  out  of  the  talk  of 
drunkards  in  Tap-houses  :  he  brings  me  informations,  pick'd 
out  of  broken  words,  in  mens  common  talk,  which,  with  his 
malicious  mis-application,  he  hopes  will  seem  dangerous,  he 
doth  besides,  bring  me  the  names  of  all  the  young  Gentlemen 

B.-F.  x.  F  8 1 


THE  WOMAN-HATER         ACT  i 

in  the  City,  that  use  Ordinaries,  or  Taverns,  talking  (to 
my  thinking)  only  as  the  freedom  of  their  youth  teach 
them,  without  any  further  ends  ;  for  dangerous  and  seditious 
spirits ;  he  is  besides,  an  arrant  whoremaster,  as  any  is  in 
Milan,  of  a  Lay-man  ;  I  will  not  meddle  with  the  Clergy: 
he  is  parcel  Lawyer,  and  in  my  conscience  much  of  their 
religion,  I  must  put  upon  him  some  piece  of  service  j  come 
hither  Sir,  what  have  you  to  do  with  me  ? 

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

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

Int.     I  saw  him  now  my  Lord. 

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

Int.     Is  your  Lordship   in  good  earnest  ? 

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

Enter  Lazarello  and  his  Boy. 

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

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

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

Count.     Who's  within  there  ? 

Enter  a  Servingman. 

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

82 


ACT  ii       THE  WOMAN-HATER 

[Int.     Your  Lordships  Servant.] 

[Exit  Intelligencer  and  Servingman. 

Laz.     Will  it  please  your  [worship  walke]  ? 

Count.     Sir  I  was  coming,  I  will  overtake  you. 

Laz.     I  will  attend  you  over  against  the  Lord  Gonderinoes 
house. 

Count.     You  shall  not  attend  there  long. 

Laz.     Thither  must  I  to  see  my  Loves  face,  the  chaste 
Virgin  head 

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

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

Aftus  Secundus.     Sccena    Prima. 

Enter  Gondarino  and  his  servants. 

Serv.    IV  /T  Y  Lord  : 

iVl      Gond.     Ha  ! 

Serv.      Here's  one  hath  brought  you  a  present. 

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

Serv.     A  Fish  head  my  Lord. 

F2  83 


THE  WOMAN-HATER       ACT  n 

Gontl.      What   Fish    head? 

Serv.     I   did   not  aske  that   my   Lord. 

Gond.     Whence  comes   it  ? 

Sfr.      From   the   Court. 

Gond.      O  'tis  a  Cods-head.  (the  Duke. 

St-rv.     No  my  Lord,  'tis  some  strange  head,  it  comes  from 

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

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

Enter  Servant. 

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

Gond.     Is  she  a  woman  ? 

Serv.     I  my  Lord  I  think  so. 

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

Serv.     My  Lord,  she  is  now  comming  up. 

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

Serv.     She's  here  my  Lord. 

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

Enter  Oriana,  a  waiting  woman ,  and  a   Page. 

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

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

Gond.  Your  Ladyships  boldness  in  coming  will  be  impu- 
dence in  staying  ;  for  you  are  most  unwelcome. 

Oriana.     Oh   my   Lord  ! 

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

Orian.     Y'are  merry   my  Lord. 

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

84 


Sc.  i  THE  WOMAN-HATER 

Orlana.     I  commend  your  Lordship. 

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

Oria.     Ha,  ha,  ha. 

Gond.     Begot  when  thy  father  was  drunk. 

Orian.     Your  Lordship  hath  a  good  wit. 

Gond.      How  ?    what  have  I  a  good  wit  ? 

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

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

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

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

Enter  a  Servant. 

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

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

85 


THE  WOMAN-HATER        ACT  n 

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

Enter  the  /)«/v,   Arrigo,  and  Lucio. 

Duke.      'Twas  a  strange  hail-storm. 

Lucio.     'Twas  exceeding  strange. 

Gond.     Good  morrow  to  your  grace. 

Duke.     Good   morrow   Gonderino. 

Gond.     Justice  great   Prince. 

Duke.     Why  should  you   beg  for  justice,  I  never  did  you 
wrong  ;    What's  the  offender  ? 

Gond.     A  woman. 

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

Gond.     She  hath  gone  abroad. 

Duke.     What  ?    it  cannot  be. 

Gond.     She  hath   done  it. 

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

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

Duke.     Hath  she  so  ?     Which  is  the  woman  ? 

Gond.     This,  this. 

Duke.      How  !    Arrigo  ?    Lucio  ? 

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

Duke.     Is  it  not   Oriana  ? 

Lucio.     'Tis. 

Duke.     Sister  to  Count  Valero  ? 

Arri.     The  very  same. 

Duke.      She  that  I  love  ? 

Lucio.     She  that  you  love. 

Duke.     I  do  suspecl. 

Lucio.     So  doe  I. 

Duke.     This  fellow  to  be  but  a  counterfeit, 

86 


Sc.  i  THE  WOMAN-HATER 

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

Lucio.     Upon  my  life  'tis  so. 

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

Lucio.     Because  your  grace  might  not  suspe6t. 

Duke.     'Twas  so  :    I  doe  love  her  strangely  : 
I  would  fain  know  the  truth  :    counsell  me. 

[They  three  whisper. 

Enter  Count,  Lazarello^  and  his  boy. 

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

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

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

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

Laz.     My  Lord  !    what  Nobleman's  that  ? 

87 


THE  WOMAN-HATER        ACT  n 

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

Laz.      And  what's  that  other  ? 

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

Laz.     For  what  was  he  raised  ? 

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

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

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

Laz.     Something  fat. 

Count.     'Twill  be  the  worse  for  him. 

Laza.     I  hope  that's  not  material. 

Count.  Very  much,  for  there  is  an  impost  set  upon  Knight- 
hoods, &  your  friend  shall  pay  a  Noble  in  the  pound. 

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

Luc.     Doth  she  know  your  Grace  doth   love  her  ? 

Duke.     She  hath  never  heard  it. 

Luc.     Then  thus  my   Lord.   (They  whisper 

Laz.    What's  he  that  walks  \again 
alone  so  sadly  with   his  hands  behind  him  ? 

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

Laz.     What's  that  ? 

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


Sc.  i          THE  WOMAN-HATER 

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

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

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

Count.     I  am  glad  to  meet  you  here  sister. 

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

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

Luci.     Let  your  return  be  suddain. 

Arrl.     U[n] suspected  by  them. 

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

Count.     Let  me  entreat  your  grace  to  stay  a  little, 
To  know  a  gentleman,  to  whom  your  self 
Is  much  beholding  ;    he  hath  made  the  sport 


THE  WOMAN-HATER       ACT  n 

For  your   whole  Court  these  eight  years,  on   my  knowledge. 

Duke.      His   name  ? 

Count.      Lazaretto. 

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

Count.  Lazaretto,  pluck  up  thy  spirits,  thy  [Fortuns  are] 
now  raising,  the  Duke  calls  for  thee,  and  thou  shalt  be  ac- 
quainted with  him.  (upon  business. 

Laz.      He's  going  away,  and  I  must  of  necessity  stay  here 

Count.     'Tis  all  one,  thou  shalt  know   him  first. 

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

Count.      Lazaretto^   the   Duke   stayes,    wilt    thou    lose    this 

Laz.      How  must  I  speak  to  him  ? 

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

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

Laz.     I  hope  I  shall  doe  it.  (description. 

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

Duke.     I  shall  desire  to  know  him  more  inwardly. 

Laz.     I  kiss  the  Oxe-hide  of  your  graces  foot. 

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

Duke.     How  old  are  you  ? 

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

Duke.      I  understand  you  Sir. 

Luci.     How  like  an  ignorant  Poet  he  talks. 

90 


Sc.  i  THE  WOMAN-HATER 

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

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

Duk.     'Tis  almost  dinner  time  ? 

Laz.     Your  grace  doth  apprehend  me  very  rightly. 

Count.    Your  grace  shall  find  him  in  your  further  conference 
Grave,  wise,  courtly,  and  scholar  like,   understandingly  read 
In  the  necessities  of  the  life  of  man. 
He  knows  that  man  is  mortal  by  his  birth  ; 
He  knows  that  man  must  dye,  and  therefore  live ; 
He  knows  that   [man]   must  live,  and  therefore  eat, 
And   if  it   shall   please   your   grace,   to    accompany    your    self 
with  him,  I  doubt  not,  but  that  he  will,  at  the  least,  make 
good  my  commendations. 

Duk.     Attend  us   Lazaretto,  we  doe  want 
Men  of  such  Aclion,  as  we  have  received  you 
Reported  from  your  honorable  friend. 

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

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

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

Laza.     And  I  shall  hunger  for  it. 

Duk.     Till  then  farewell  all. 

Gon.  Count.     Long  life  attend  your  Grace. 

Duk.     I  doe  not  tast  this  sport,  Arrigo,  Lucio. 

Arrigo.  Luci.     We  doe  attend. 

[Exeunt  Duke,  Arrigo,  Lucio. 

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

91 


THE  WOMAN-HATER        ACT  n 

The  twyns  of  Adders,  and  of  Scorpions 

About  my   naked   brest,  will  seem   to  me 

More  tickling  than   those  claspes,  which   men  adore  ; 

The  lustfull,  dull,  ill  spirited  embraces 

Of  women  ;    The   much   praysed   Amazones, 

Knowing  their  own   infirmities  so  well, 

Made  of  themselves  a  people,  and   what  men 

They  take  amongst  them,  they  condemne  to  die, 

Perceiving  that  their  folly  made  them  fit 

To  live  no  longer  that  would  willingly 

Come   in  the  worthless  presence  of  a  woman.          (his  sister. 

I  will  attend,  and  see  what  my  young    Lord   will    doe    with 

Enter  Lazari/Ioes  Boy. 

Boy.     My  Lord  ;    The  fish  head  is  gone  again. 

Count.     W[h]ither  ? 

Boy.     I  know  whither  my  Lord. 

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

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

Gond.  Now  there  shall  be  some  course  taken  for  her  con- 
veiance. 

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

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

Oria.     Yes  brother,  and  not  before. 

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

Count.  Lazaretto^  bestirr  thy  self  nimbly  and  sodainly, 
and  hear  me  with  patience  [to  hear]. 

92 


Sc.  i          THE  WOMAN-HATER 

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

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

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

Count.     I  hate  to  leave  my  friend  in  his  extremities. 

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

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

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

Oria.  I  'm  very  well  my  Lord,  you  doe  mistake  me,  if 
you  think  I  affecl:  greater  company  than  your  self. 

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

Oria.    Your  Lordship  may  discant  upon  your  own  behavior 
as  please  you,  but  I  protest,  so  sweet  and  courtly  it  appeares  in 
my  eye,  that  I  mean  not  to  leave  you  yet. 
[Go\nd.     I  shall  grow  rough. 
Oria.     A  rough  carriage  is  best  in  a  man, 
I'll  dine  with  you  my  Lord. 

Gond.    Why  I  will  starve  thee,  thou  shalt  have  nothing. 

93 


THE  WOMAN-HATER       ACT  n 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oria.     I  must  not  leave  this  fellow,  I  will  torment  him  to 
To  teach  his  passions  against  kind  to  move,  (madness, 

The  more  he  hates,  the  more  I'll  seem  to  love. 

[Exeunt  Oriana  and  Maid. 

Enter  Pandar  and  Mercer  a  citizen. 

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

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

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

Mer.     Let  Art  have  her  course.  [Exit  Mercer. 

Enter  Curtezan. 

Pand.     'Tis  well  spoken,  Madona. 

Mad.     Hast  thou  brought  me  any  customers. 

Pan.     No. 

Ma.     What  the  devil  do'st  thou  in  black  ? 

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

94 


ACT  in      THE  WOMAN-HATER 

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

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

Ma.     Francessina  \ 

Fr.     Anon  ! 

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

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

Attus  far tiu  s.     Sccena  Prima. 

Enter  Gondarino  flying  the  Lady. 

Gond.    O  Ave  me  ye  better  powers,  let  me  not  fall 

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

Enter  Oriana. 

Orian.  Now  f^enus^  be  my  speed,  inspire  me  with  all  the 
severall  subtil  temptations,  that  thou  hast  already  given,  or 
hast  in  store  heareafter  to  bestow  upon  our  Sex  :  grant  that 
I  may  apply  that  Physick  that  is  most  apt  to  work  upon  him : 
whether  he  will  soonest  be  mov'd  with  wantonness,  singing, 

95 


THE  WOMAN-HATER      ACT  in 

dancing  ;  or  being  passionate,  with  scorn  ;  or  with  sad  and 
serious  looks,  cunningly  mingled  with  sighs,  with  smiling, 
lisping,  kissing  the  hand,  and  making  short  curt'sies,  Or  with 
whatsoever  other  nimble  power,  he  may  be  caught,  doe  thou 
infuse  into  me,  and  when  I  have  him,  I  will  sacrifice  him 
up  to  thee. 

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

Orian.     My  Lord,  I  'm  a  woman,  and  such  a  one — 

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

Orian.     Why  my  unpatient  Lord  ?  (wom[e]n. 

Gond.     Devils   were  once  good,   there   they   excell'd    you 

Orian.     Can  ye  be  so  uneasie,  can  ye  freeze,  and 
Such  a  summers  heat  so  ready 

To  dissolve  ?    nay  gentle  Lord,  turn  not  away  in  scorn, 
Nor  hold  me  less  fair  than  I  am  :    look  on  these  cheeks, 
They  have  yet  enough  of  nature,  true  complexion, 
If  to  be  red  and  white,  a  forehead  high, 
An  easie  melting  lip,  a  speaking  eye, 
And  such  a  tongue,  whose  language  takes  the  ear 
Of  stri6t  religion,  and  men  most  austere  : 
If  these  may  hope  to  please,  look  here. 

Gond.     This  woman  with  entreaty  wo'd  show  all, 
Lady  there  lies  your  way,  I  pray  ye  farewell. 

Orian.     Y'are  yet  too  harsh,  too  dissonant, 
There's  no  true  musick  in  your  words,  my  Lord. 

Gond.     What  shall  I  give  thee  to  be  gone  ? 
Here's  ta,   and   tha  wants  lodging,   take    my    house,   'tis    big 
enough,  'tis  thine  own,  'twill  hold  five  leacherous  Lords,  and 
their  lackies  without  discovery :  there's  stoves  and  bathing  tubs. 

Orian.     Dear  Lord  :    y'are  too  wild. 

Gond.  Shalt  have  a  Doctor  too,  thou  shat,  'bout  six  and 
twentie,  'tis  a  pleasing  age  ;  Or  I  can  help  thee  to  a  hand- 
some Usher  :  or  if  thou  lack'st  a  page,  I'll  give  thee  one, 
preethee  keep  house,  and  leave  me. 

Oria.     I  doe  confess  I  'm  too  easie,  too  much  woman, 
Not  coy  enough  to  take  affection, 
Yet  I  can  frown  and  nip  a  passion, 


Sc.  i  THE  WOMAN-HATER 

Even  in  the  bud  :    I  can  say 

Men  please  their  present  heats  ;    Then  please  to  leave  us. 

I  can  hold  off,  and,   by  my  Chymick  power, 

Draw  Sonnets  from  the  melting  lovers  brain  ; 

AymiS)  and  Elegies :    yet  to  you  my  Lord 

My  Love,  my  better  self,  I  put  these  off, 

Doing  that  office,  not  befits  our  sex, 

Entreat  a  man  to  love  ; 

Are  ye  not  yet  relenting  ?    ha'ye  blood  and  Spirit 

In  those  veins  ?    ye  are  no  image,  though  ye  be  as  hard 

As  marble  :    sure  ye  have  no  liver,  if  ye  had, 

'Twould  send  a  lively  and  desiring  heat 

To  every  member  ;    Is  not  this  miserable  ? 

A  thing  so  truely  form'd,  shapt  out  by  Symetry, 

Has  all  the  organs  that  belong  to  man, 

And  working  too,  yet  to  shew  all  these 

Like  dead  motions  moving  upon  wyers  ? 

Then  good  my  Lord,  leave  off  what  you  have  been, 

And  freely  be  what  you  were  first  intended  for,  a  man. 

Gond.     Thou  art  a  precious  peece  of  slie  damnation, 
I  will  be  deaf,  I   will  lock  up  my  ears, 
Tempt  me  not,  I  will  not  love ;    If  I  doe. 

Oria.     Then  I'll  hate  you.  (Sun, 

Gond.     Let  me  be  'nointed  with  hony,  and  turn'd  into  the 
To  be  stung  to  death  with  horse-flies, 
Hear'st  thou,  thou  breeder,  here  I'll  sit, 
And,   in  despight  of  thee,  I  will  say  nothing. 

Oria.     Let  me  with  your  fair  patience,  sit   beside  you. 

Gond.     Madam,   Lady,  tempter,  tongue,  woman,  ayr. 
Look  to  me,   I  shall  kick  ;    I  say  again, 
Look  to  me  I  shall  kick. 

Oria.     I  cannot  think  your  better  knowledg[e]  can  use  a 
woman  so  uncivilly. 

Gond.     I  cannot  think,  I  shall  become  a  coxcombe, 
To  ha'my  hair  curl'd,  by  an  idle  finger, 
My  cheeks  turn  Tabers,  and  be  plaid  upon, 
Mine  eyes  lookt  babies  in,  and  my  nose  blowd  to  my  hand, 
I  say  again  I  shall  kick,  sure  I  shall. 

Oria.    'Tis  but  your  outside  that  you  shew,  I  know  your 
Never  was  guilty  of  so  great  a  weakness,  (mind 

B.-F.  x.  G  97 


THE  WOMAN-HATER      ACT  in 

Or  could  the  to[n]gues  of  all  men  joyn'd  together. 
Possess  me  with  a  thought  of  your  dislike 
My  weakness  were  above  a  womans,  to  fall  off 
From  my  affection,   for  one  crack  of  thunder, 

0  wo'd  you  could  love,  my  Lord. 

Gond.  I  wo'd  thou  wouldst  sit  still,  and  say  nothing :  what 
mad-man  let  thee  lo[o]se  to  do  more  mischief  than  a  dousen 
whirlwinds,  keep  thy  hands  in  thy  muff,  and  warm  the  idle 
worms  in  thy  fingers  ends  :  will  ye  be  doing  still  ?  will  no 
entreating  serve  ye  ?  no  lawfull  warning  ?  I  must  remove 
and  leave  your  Ladyship  ;  Nay  never  hope  to  stay  me,  for 

1  will  run,  from  that  Smooth,  Smiling,  Witching,  Cousening, 
Tempting,   Damning  face  of  thine,  as  far  as  I  can  find  any 
land,  where  I  will  put  my  self  into  a  daily  course  of  Curses 
for  thee,  and  all  thy  Familie. 

Oria.     Nay  good  my  Lord  sit  still,  I'll  promise  peace 
And  fold  mine  Armes  up,  let  but  mine  eye  discourse  ; 
Or  let  my  voyce,  set  to  some  pleasing  cord,  sound  out 
The  sullen  strains  of  my  neglected  love. 

Gond.      Sing  till  thou  crack  thy  treble-string  in  peeces, 
And  when  thou  hast  done,  put  up  thy  pipes  and  walk, 
Doe  any  thing,  sit  still  and  tempt  me  not. 

Oria.  I  had  rather  sing  at  doors  for  bread,  than  sing  to 
this  fellow,  but  for  hate  :  if  this  should  be  told  in  the  Court, 
that  I  begin  to  woe  Lords,  what  a  troop  of  the  untrust 
nobilitie  should  I  have  at  my  lodging  to  morrow  morning. 

SONG. 

Come  sleepy  and  with  th[y~\  sweet  deceiving, 

Lock  me  in  delight  a  while, 

Let  some  pleasing  Dreams  beguile 

All  my  fancies  ;    That  from  thence, 

I  may  feel  an  influence. 

All  my  powers  of  care  bereaving. 

Though  but  a  shadow,  but  a  sliding, 
Let  me  know  some  little  Joy, 
We  that  suffer  long  anoy 
Are  contented  with  a  thought 
Through  an  idle  fancie  wrought 
0  let  my  joyes,  have  some  abiding. 


Sc.  ii         THE  WOMAN-HATER 

Gond.  Have  you  done  your  wassayl  ?  'tis  a  handsome 
drowsie  dittie  I'll  assure  ye,  now  I  had  as  leave  hear  a  Cat 
cry,  when  her  tail  is  cut  off,  as  hear  these  lamentations, 
these  lowsie  love-layes,  these  bewailements  :  you  think  you 
have  caught  me  Lady,  you  think  I  melt  now,  like  a  dish 
of  May  butter,  and  run,  all  into  brine,  and  passion,  yes, 
yes,  I  'm  taken,  look  how  I  cross  my  arms,  look  pale,  and 
dwyndle,  and  wo'd  cry,  but  for  spoyling  my  face  ;  we  must 
part,  nay  we'll  avoyd  all  Ceremony,  no  kissing  Lady,  I  desire 
to  know  your  Ladiship  no  more  ;  death  of  my  soul  the  Duke  ! 

Oria.     God  keep  your  Lordship. 

Gond.     From  thee  and  all  thy  sex. 

Oria.     I'll  be  the  Clark,  and  crie,  Amen, 
Your  Lordships  ever  assured  enemie   Oriana. 

\Exit.  Oriana,  Manet  Gondarmo. 

A5lus  Tertius.     Sctena  Secunda. 

Enter  Duke,  Arrlgo,  Lucio. 

Gond.      ALL  the  days  good,  attend  your  Lordship. 

/~\     Duk.     We  thank  you  Gondarmo,  is   it  possible  ? 
Can  belief  lay  hold  on  such  a  miracle, 
To  see  thee,  one  that  hath  cloyst'red  up  all  passion, 
Turn'd  wilfull  votary,  and  forsworn  converse  with  women,  in 
company  and  fair  discourse,  with  the  best  beauty  of  Millaln  ? 

Gon.     'Tis  true,  and  if  your  Grace  that  hath  the  sway 
Of  the  whole  State,  will  suffer  this  lude  sex, 
These  women,  to  pursue  us  to  our  homes, 
Not  to  be  prayd,  no[r]  to  be  rail'd  away, 
But  they  will  woe,  and  dance,  and  sing, 
And,  in  a  manner,  looser  than  they  are 
By  nature  (which  should  seem  impossible) 
To  throw  their  armes,  on  our  unwilling  necks. 

Duk.  No  more,  I  can  see  through  your  vissore,  dissemble 
Doe  not  I  know  thou  hast  us'd  all  Art,  (it  no  more. 

To  work  upon  the  poor  simplicitie 
Of  this  yong  Maid,  that  yet  hath  known  none  ill  ? 
Thinkest  that  damnation  will  fright  those  that  wooe 
From  oaths,  and  lies?     But  yet  I  think  her  chast, 

G  2  99 


THE  WOMAN-HATER       ACT  in 

And  will  ffom   thcc,   before  them  shalt  apply 
Stronger  temptations,  bear  her  hence  with   me. 

Gond.     My  Lord,  I  speak  not  this  to  gain  new  grace, 
But   howsoever  you  esteeme  my  words, 
My  love  and   dutie  will   not  suffer  me 
To  see  you  favour  such  a  prostitute, 
And  I  stand   by  dumb  ;    Without  Rack,  Torture, 
Or  Strappado,  I[le]   unrip  my  self: 

I  doe  confess  I  was  in  company  with  that  pleasing  peece  of 
frailtie,  that  we  call  woman  ;  I  doe  confess  after  a  long  and 
tedious  seige,  I  yielded. 

Duke.     Forward. 

Gond.  Faith  my  Lord  to  come  quickly  to  the  point,  the 
woman  you  saw  with  me  is  a  whore  ;  An  arrant  whore. 

Duke.     Was  she  not  Count   Valores  Sister  ? 

Gond.     Yes,  that  Count  Valor es  Sister  is  naught. 

Duk.     Thou  dar'st  not  say  so. 

Gond.  Not  if  it  be  distasting  to  your  Lordship,  but  give 
me  freedome,  and  I  dare  maintain,  she  ha's  imbrac'd  this 
body,  and  grown  to  it  as  close,  as  the  hot  youthfull  vine  to 
the  elme. 

Duk.  Twice  have  I  seen  her  with  thee,  twice  my  thoughts 
were  prompted  by  mine  eye,  to  hold  thy  striftness  false  and 
imposterous  :  Is  this  your  mewing  up,  your  stricl  retirement, 
your  bitterness  and  gaul  against  that  sex  ?  Have  I  not  heard 
thee  say,  thou  wouldst  sooner  meet  the  Basilisks  dead  doing 
eye,  than  meet  a  woman  for  an  objecl:  ?  Look  it  be  true 
you  tell  me,  or  by  our  countries  Saint  your  head  goes  off: 
if  thou  prove  a  whore,  no  womans  face  shall  ever  move  me 
more.  [Exeunt.  Manet  Gondarlno. 

Gond.  So,  so,  'tis  as  't  should  be,  are  women  grown  so 
mankind  ?  Must  they  be  wooing,  I  have  a  plot  shall  blow 
her  up,  she  flyes,  she  mounts ;  I'll  teach  her  Ladyship  to 
dare  my  fury,  I  will  be  known,  and  fear'd,  and  more  truely 
hated  of  women  than  an  Eunuch. 

Enter  Oriana. 

She's  here  again,  good  gaul  be  patient,  for  I  must  dissemble. 

Orian.     Now  my  cold,  frosty  Lord,  my  woman-Hater,  you 

that  have   sworn  an  everlasting  hate  to  all  our  sex  :    by  my 

100 


Sc.  ii         THE  WOMAN-HATER 

troth  good  Lord,  and  as  I  'm  yet  a  maid,  my  thought  'twas 
excellent  sport  to  hear  your  honor  swear  out  an  Alphabet, 
chafe  nobly  like  a  Generall,  kick  like  a  resty  Jade,  and  make 
ill  faces  :  Did  your  good  Honor  think  I  was  in  love  ?  where 
did  I  first  begin  to  take  that  heat  ?  From  those  two  radiant 
eyes,  that  piercing  sight  ?  oh  they  were  lovely,  if  the  balls 
stood  right ;  and  there's  a  leg  made  out  of  a  dainty  staff", 
Where,  the  Gods  be  thanked,  there  is  calf  enough. 

Gond.     Pardon  him  Lady,  that  is  now  a  convert[ite]. 
Your  beauty,  like  a  Saint  hath  wrought  this  wonder. 

Oriana.  Alass,  ha's  it  been  prick'd  at  the  heart  ?  is  the 
stomach  come  down  ?  will  it  rail  no  more  at  women,  and 
call  'em  Divells,  she  Cats,  and  Goblins  ? 

Gond.  He  that  shall  marry  thee,  had  better  spend  the 
poor  remainder  of  his  days  in  a  dung-barge,  for  two  pence 
a  week,  and  find  him  self. 

Down  again  Spleen,  I  prethee  down  again,  shall  I  find  favour 
Lady  ?  shall  at  length  my  true  unfeigned  penitence  get  pardon 
for  my  harsh  unseasoned  follies  ?  I'm  no  more  an  Atheist, 
no  I  doe  acknowledge,  that  dread  powerfull  Deity,  and  his 
all  quic'kning  heats  burn  in  my  breast  :  oh  be  not  as  I  was, 
hard  unrelenting  ;  but  as  I  [am],  be  partner  of  my  fires. 

Oria.  Sure  we  [shall]  have  store  of  Larks,  the  Skies  will  not 
hold  up  long,  I  should  have  look'd  as  soon  for  Frost  in  the  dog 
days,  or  another  Inundation,  as  hop'd  this  strange  conversion 
above  miracle  :  let  me  look  upon  your  Lordship  ;  is  your 
name  Gondarmo  ?  are  you  Millains  Generall,  that  great  Bug- 
bear bloody-bones,  at  whose  name  all  women,  from  the  Lady 
to  the  Landress,  shake  like  a  cold  fit  ? 

Gond.  Good  patience  help  me,  this  Fever  will  inrage  my 
blood  again  :  Madam  I  'm  that  man  ;  I  'm  even  he  that  once 
did  owe  unreconcil'd  hate  to  you,  and  all  that  bear  the  name 
of  woman  :  I  'm  the  man  that  wrong'd  your  Honor  to  the 
Duke  :  [I  am  hee]  that  said  you  were  unchast,  and  prostitute, 
yet  I  'm  he  that  dare  deny  all  this. 

Orian.     Your  big  Nobility  is  very  merry. 

Gond.     Lady  'tis  true  that  I   have  wrong'd  you  thus, 
And  my  contritio[n]   is  as  true  as  that, 
Yet  have  I   found  a  means  to  make  all  good  again, 
I  doe  beseech  your  beautie,  not  for  my  self, 

101 


THE  WOMAN-HATER      ACT  in 

My  merits  are  yet  in   conception, 

But   for  your   honors  safety  and   my  zeal 

Retire  a  while,   while  I   unsay  my  self  unto   the   Duke, 

And  cast  out  that   [evill]   Spirit  I   have  possest  him  with, 

I  have  a  house  conveniently  private. 

Or/'.     Lord,   thou    hast    wrong'd    my    innocence,    but    thy 
confession   hath  gain'd  thee   faith. 

Gond.  By  the  true  honest  service,  that  I  owe  th[o]se  eyes 
My  meaning  is  as  spotless  as  my  faith.  ([strangely,] 

Oria.  The  Duke  doubt  mine  honor  ?  a  may  judge 
'Twill  not  be  long,  before  I'll  be  enlarg'd  again. 

Gond.     A  day  or  two. 

Orian.     Mine  own  servants  shall  attend  me. 

Gond.     Your  Ladyships  command  is  good. 

Orian.     Look  you  be  true.  [Exit  Oriana. 

Gond.  Else  let  me  lose  the  hopes  my  soul  aspires  to  :  I  will 
be  a  scourge  to  all  females  in  my  life,  and  after  my  death, 
the  name  of  Gondarino  shall  be  terrible  to  the  mighty  women 
of  the  earth;  They  shall  shake  at  my  name,  and  at  the  sound 
of  it,  their  knees  shall  knock  together;  And  they  shall  run  into 
Nunneries,  for  they  and  I  are  beyond  all  hope  irreconcilable  : 
for  if  I  could  endure  an  ear  with  a  hole  in't,  or  a  pleated  lock, 
or  a  bare  headed  Coachman,  that  sits  like  a  sign  where  great 
Lad[ie]s  are  to  be  sold  within  ;  agreement  betwixt  us,  were  not 
to  be  dispaired  of ;  if  I  could  be  but  brought  to  endure  to  see 
women,  I  would  have  them  come  all  once  a  week,  and  kiss  me, 
[where]  Witches  doe  the  devill,  in  token  of  homage  :  I  must  not 
live  here  ;  I  will  to  the  Court,  and  there  pursue  my  plot  ;  when 
it  hath  took,  women  shall  stand  in  awe,  but  of  my  look.  [Exit. 

Aftus   Tertius.     Sctena    Tertia. 

Enter  two  Intelligencers,  discovering  treason  in  the 

Courtiers  words. 

I.  Intel.    'T~"sHere  take  your  standing,  be  close  and  vigilant, 

here  will  I  set  my  self,  and  let  him  look  to  his 
language,  a  shall  know  the  Duke  has  more  ears  in  Court  than 
two. 

2.  Int.  I'll  quote  him  to  a  tittle,  let  him  speak  wisely,  and 
plainly,  and  as  hidden  as  a  can,  or  I  shall  crush  him,  a  shall  not 

102 


Sc.  in        THE  WOMAN-HATER 

scape  charradlers,  though  a  speak  Babel,  I  shall  crush  him  : 
we  have  a  Fortune  by  this  service  hanging  over  us,  that  within 
this  year  or  two,  I  hope  we  shall  be  called  to  be  examiners,  wear 
politick  gowns  garded  with  copper  lace,  making  great  faces  full 
of  fear  and  office,  our  labors  may  deserve  this. 

I.  Int.  I  hope  it  shall:  why  has  not  many  men  been  raised 
from  this  worming  trade,  first  to  gain  good  access  to  great 
men,  then  to  have  commissions  out  for  search,  and  lastly,  to 
be  worthily  nam'd  at  a  great  Arraignment :  yes,  and  why 
not  we  ?  They  that  endeavor  well  deserve  their  Fee. 
Close,  close,  a  comes  :  mark  well,  and  all  goes  well. 

Enter  Count,  Lazarello^  and  his  Boy. 

Laz.     Farewell  my  hopes,  my  Anchor  now  is  broken, 
Farewell  my  quondam  joys,  of  which  no  token 
Is  now  remaining,  such  is  the  sad  mischance, 
Where  Lady  Fortune  leads  the  slipp'ry  dance. 
Yet  at  the  length,  let  me  this  favour  have, 
Give  me  my  wishes,  or  a  wished  grave. 

Count.     The  gods  defend  so  brave  and  valiant  maw, 
Should  slip  into  the  never  satiate  jaw 
Of  black  Despair  ;    no,  thou  shalt  live  and  know 
Thy  full  desires,  hunger  thy  ancient  foe, 
Shall  be  subdued  ;    those  guts  that  daily  tumble 
Through  ayr  and  appetite,  shall  cease  to  rumble  : 
And  thou  shalt  now  at  length  obtain  thy  dish, 
That  noble  part,  the  sweet  head  of  a  fish. 

Laz.     Then  am  I  greater  than  the  Duke. 

2.  Int.     There,  there's  a  notable  peece  of  treason,  greater 
than  the  Duke,  mark  that. 

Count.    But  how,  or  where,  or  when  this  shall  be  compas'd, 
is  yet  out  of  my  reach. 

Laz.  I  am  so  truely  miserable,  that  might 
I  be  now  knockt  oth'  head,  with  all  my  heart 
I  would  forgive  a  dog-killer.  (com[f]ort. 

Count.     Yet  doe  I  see  through  this  confusedness  some  little 

Laz.     The  plot  my  Lord,  as  er'e  you  came  of  a  woman, 
discover. 

i.  Int.    Plots,  dangerous  plots,  I  will  deserve  by  this  most 
liberally. 

103 


THE  WOMAN-HATER       ACT  in 

Count.      'Tis  from  my   head  again. 

Laz.     O  that  it  would  stand  me,  that  I  might  fight,  or  have 
some  venture  for  it,  that   I   might   be   turn'd  loose,  to  try  my 
fortune  amongst  the  whole  frie  in  a  Colledge,  or  an   Inn  of 
Court  ;   or  scramble  with  the   prisoners  in   the  dungeon  ;    nay 
were  it  set  down   in   the   [owter]   court, 
And  all   the  Guard  about  it  in  a  ring, 
With   their  knives  drawn,  which  were  a  dismall  sight, 
And  after  twenty  leisurely  were  told, 
I  to   be  let  loose  only  in  my  shirt, 
To  trie  the  valour,   how  much  of  the  spoyl, 
I  would   recover  from  the  enemies  mouths  : 
[I  would  accept  the  challenge. 

Count.     Let  it  go  :    hast  not  thou  beene  held 
To  have  some  wit  in  the  Court,  and  to   make  fine  jests] 
Upon  country  people  in   progress  time,  and 
Wilt  thou  lose  this  opinion,   for  the  cold  head  of  a  Fish  ? 
I  say,  let  it  goe  :    I'll  help  thee  to  as  good  a  dish  of  meat. 

Laz.     God  let  me  not  live,  if  I  doe  not  wonder, 
Men  should  talk  so  propanely  : 
But  it  is  not  in  the  power  of  loose  words, 
Of  any  vain  or  misbeleeving  man, 
To  make  me  dare  to  wrong  thy  purity. 
Shew  me  but  any  Lady  in  the  Court,    " 
That  hath  so  full  an  eye,  so  sweet  a  breath, 
So  soft  and  white  a  flesh  :    this  doth  not  lie 
In  almond  gloves,  nor  ever  hath   bin  washt 
In  artificiall  baths  :    no  traveller 

That  hath  brought  doftor  home  with  him,  hath  dar'd 
With  all  his  waters,  powders,   Fucusses, 
To  make  thy  lovely  corps  sophisticate. 

Count.     I  have  it,  'tis  now  infus'd,  be  comforted. 

Laz.  Can  there  be  that  little  hope  yet  left  in  nature?  shall 
I  once  more  erecl  up  Trophies  ?  Shall  I  enjoy  the  sight  of 
my  dear  Saint,  and  bless  my  pallate  with  the  best  of  crea- 
tures, ah  good  my  Lord,  by  whom  I  breathe  again,  shall  I 
receive  this  Being  ? 

Count.  Sir  I  have  found  by  certain  calculation,  and  setled 
revolution  of  the  stars,  the  Fish  is  sent  by  the  Lord  Gondarino 
to  his  Mercer,  now  'tis  a  growing  hope  to  know  where  'tis. 

104 


Sc.  in        THE  WOMAN-HATER 

Laz.  O  'tis  far  above  the  good  of  women,  the  Pathick 
cannot  yield  more  pleasing  titilation. 

Count.  But  how  to  compass  it,  search,  cast  about,  and 
bang  your  brai[n]s,  Lazaretto,  thou  art  too  dull  and  heavy  to 
deserve  a  blessing. 

Laz.  My  Lord,  I  will  not  be  idle  ;  now  Lazaretto,  think, 
think,  think. 

Count.     Yonder's  my  informer 
And  his  fellow  with  table  books,  they  nod  at  me 
Upon  my  life,  they  have  poor  Lazaretto,  that  beats 
His  brains  about  no  such  waighty  matter,  in  for 
Treason  before  this — 

Laz.     My  Lord,  what  doe  you  think,  if  I  should  shave 

my  self, 

Put  on  midwives  apparell,  come  in  with  a  hand-kercher, 
And  beg  a  piece  for  a  great  bellied  woman,  or  a  sick  child  ? 

Count.     Good,  very  good. 

Laz.      Or    corrupt    the    waiting    prentise    to    betray    the 
reversion. 

1.  Inte.     There's  another   point   in's   plot,  [corrupt]  with 
money  ;  to  betray  :  sure  'tis  some  Fort  a  means  :  mark,  have 
a  care. 

Laz.  And  'twere  the  bare  vinegar  'tis  eaten  with,  it  would 
in  some  sort  satisfie  nature  :  but  might  I  once  attain  the  dish 
it  self,  though  I  cut  out  my  means  through  sword [s]  and  fire, 
through  poison,  through  any  thing  that  may  make  good  my 
hopes. 

2.  Int.     Thanks    to    the   gods,   and    our   officiousness,   the 
plots  discover'd,  fire,  steel,  and  poison,  burn  the  Palace,  kill 
the  Duke  and  poison  his  privie  Councell. 

Count.  To  the  mercers,  let  me  see  :  how,  if  before  we 
can  attain  the  means,  to  make  up  our  acquaintance,  the  fish 
be  eaten  ? 

Laz.  If  it  be  eaten,  here  he  stands,  that  is  the  most  de- 
je6led,  most  unfortunate,  miserable,  accursed,  forsaken  slave 
this  Province  yields  :  I  will  not  sure  outlive  it,  no  I  will 
dye  bravely,  and  like  a  Roman  ;  and  after  death,  amidst  the 
Elizian  shades,  I'll  meet  my  love  again. 

i.  In.  I  will  dye  bravely,  like  a  Roman  :  have  a  care, 
mark  that,  when  he  hath  done  all,  he  will  kill  himself. 

105 


THE  WOMAN-HATER      ACT  in 

Count.     Will  nothing  ease  your  appetite  but  this  ? 

Laz.     No  could   the  Sea  throw  up   his  vastness, 
And  offer  free  his  best  inhabitants  :    'twere    not   so    much   as 
a  bare   temptation  to  me. 

Count.     If  you   could   be  drawn   to  affecl:  Beef,   Venison, 
or  Fowl,  'twould   be  far  the  better. 

Laza.      I   doe  beseech  your  Lordships  patience, 
I  doe  confess  that  in  this   heat  of  blood, 
I   have  contemn'd  all  dull  and  grosser  meats, 
But  I  protest  I  doe  honor  a  Chine  of  Beef, 
I  doe  reverence  a  loyn  of  Veal, 

But  good  my  Lord,  give  me  leave  a  little  to  adore  this  : 
But    my   good   Lord,   would   your   Lordship,   under   color    of 
taking   up   some   silks,   goe   to   the    Mercers,    I    would    in    all 
humilitie  attend   your   honor,   where   we   may    be    invited,    if 
Fortune  stand  propitious. 

Count.     Sir  you  shall  work  me  as  you  please. 

Laza.     Let  it  be  suddenly,  I  doe  beseech  your  Lordship, 
'tis  now  upon  the  point  of  dinner  time. 

Count.      I  am  all  yours.  [Exeunt  Lazaretto  and  Count. 

1.  In.      Come  let  us  confer, 

Imprimis  he  saith,  like  a  blasphemous  villain,  he  's  greater  than 
the  Duke,  this  peppers  him,  and  there  were  nothing  else. 

2.  In.     Then   he  was  naming  plots  ;    did  you  not  hear  ? 

1.  In.     Yes  but  he  fell  from  that  unto  discovery,  to  cor- 
rupt by  money,  and  so  attain. 

2.  In.     I,  I,  he  meant  some  Fort,  or  Cyttadell  the  Duke 
hath,  his  very  face  betraid  his  meaning,  O  he  is  [a]  very  subtile 
and  a  dangerous  knave,  but  if  he  deal  a  Gods  name,  we  shall 
worm  him. 

1.  In.     But  now  comes  the  Stroak,  the  fatall  blow,  Fire, 
Sword  and   Poyson,   O  Canibal,  thou  bloody  Canibal. 

2.  In.  What  had  become  of  this  poor  state,  had  [not  we]  been  ? 

1.  In.      Faith    it   had  lyen  buried  in  his  own  ashes  ;    had 
not  a  greater  hand  been  in't. 

2.  In.     But  note  the  rascalls  resolution,  after  th'acls  done, 
because  he  wo'd  avoid  all  fear  of  torture,  and  cousen  the  Law, 
he  wo'd  kill  himself;   was  there  ever  the  like  danger  brought 
to  light  in  this  age  ?    sure  we  shall   merit  much,  we  shall  be 
able  to  keep  two    men    a    peece,  and   a  two    handsword   be- 

106 


Sc.  iv         THE  WOMAN-HATER 

tween  us,  we  will  live  in  favour  of  the  State,  betray  our 
ten  or  twelve  treasons  a  week,  and  the  people  shall  fear  us  : 
come,  to  the  Lord  Lucioy  the  Sun  shall  not  goe  down  till 
he  be  hang'd.  [Exeunt. 

Affius  Tertius.     Sccena  Quarta. 

Enter  Mercer. 

Mer.  T  Ook  to  my  shop,  and  if  there  come  ever  a  Scholar 
J j  in  black,  let  him  speak  with  me;  we  that  are  shop- 
keepers in  good  trade,  are  so  pester'd,  that  we  can  scarce 
pick  out  an  hour  for  our  mornings  meditation  :  and  how- 
soever we  are  all  accounted  dull,  and  common  jesting  stocks 
for  your  gallants  ;  There  are  some  of  us  doe  not  deserve  it : 
for,  for  my  own  part,  I  doe  begin  to  be  given  to  my  book, 
I  love  a  scholar  with  my  heart,  for  questionless  there  are 
merveilous  things  to  be  done  by  Art  :  why  Sir,  some  of  them 
will  tell  you  what  is  become  of  horses,  and  silver  spoons, 
and  will  make  wenches  dance  naked  to  their  beds  :  I  am  yet 
unmarried,  and  because  some  of  our  neighbours  are  said  to 
be  Cuckolds,  I  will  never  [marrie]  without  the  consent  of 
some  of  these  scholars,  that  know  what  will  come  of  it. 

Enter  Pander. 

Pan.     Are  you  busie  Sir  ? 

Mer.     Never  to  you  Sir,  nor  to  any  of  your  coat. 
Sir   is  there   any   thing  to   be   done   by   Art,   concerning   the 
great  heir  we  talk'd  on  ? 

Pan.  Will  she,  nill  she  :  she  shall  come  running  into  my 
house  at  the  farther  corner,  in  Sa.  Marks  street,  betwixt 
three  and  four. 

Mer.    Betwixt  three  and  four  ?    she's  brave  in  cloaths,  is 
she  not  ? 

Pan.  O  rich  !  rich  !  where  should  I  get  cloaths  to  dress 
her  in  ?  Help  me  invention :  Sir,  that  her  running  through  the 
street  may  be  less  noted,  my  Art  more  shown,  and  your  fear 
to  speak  with  her  less,  she  shall  come  in  a  white  wastcoat, 
And— 

Mer.     What  shall  she? 

107 


THE  WOMAN-HATER       ACT  in 

Pan.      And    perhaps  torn   stockings,  she   hath   left   her  old 
wont  else. 

Enter  Prentice. 

Pren.    Sir  my  Lord  Gond.  hath  sent  you  a  rare  fish  head. 

Mer.  It  comes  right,  all  things  sute  right  with  me  since 
I  began  to  love  scholars,  you  shall  have  it  home  with  you 
against  she  come  :  carrie  it  to  this  Gentleman's  house. 

Pan.  The  fair  white  house  at  the  farther  corner  at  S. 
Marks  street,  make  haste,  I  must  leave  you  too  Sir,  I  have 
two  hours  to  study  ;  buy  a  new  Accedence,  and  ply  your  book, 
and  you  shall  want  nothing  that  all  the  scholars  in  the  Town 
can  doe  for  you.  [Exit  Pander. 

Mer.  Heaven  prosper  both  our  studies,  what  a  dull  slave 
was  I  before  I  fell  in  love  with  this  learning  !  not  worthy 
to  tread  upon  the  earth,  &  what  fresh  hopes  it  hath  put  in 
to  me  !  I  doe  hope  within  this  twelve-month  to  be  able  by 
Art  to  serve  the  Court  with  silks,  and  not  undoe  my  self; 
to  trust  Knights,  and  yet  get  in  my  money  again  ;  to  keep 
my  wife  brave,  and  yet  she  keep  no  body  else  so. 

Enter  Count^  and  Lazarello. 

Your  Lordship  is  most  honourably  welcome  in  regard  of  your 
Nobility  ;  but  most  especialy  in  regard  of  your  scholarship : 
did  your  Lordship  come  openly  ? 

Count.  Sir  this  cloak  keeps  me  private,  besides  no  man  will 
suspecl  me  to  be  in  the  company  of  this  Gentleman,  with 
whom,  I  will  desire  you  to  be  acquainted,  he  may  prove  a 
good  customer  to  you. 

Laza.     For  plain  silks  and   velvets. 

Mer.     Are  you  scholasticall  ? 

Laza.     Something;  addi6led  to  the  Muses. 

O 

Count.     I  hope  they  will  not  dispute. 
Mer.      You  have  no  skill  in  the  black  Art. 

Enter  a  Prentice. 

Pren.     Sir  yonder's  a  Gentleman  enquires  hastily  for  Count 

Valore, 

Count.     For  me  ?    what  is  he  ? 
Pren.     One  of  your  followers  my  Lord  I  think. 

1 08 


Sc.  iv         THE   WOMAN-HATER 

Count.     Let  him  come  in. 

Mer.     Shall  I  talk  with  you  in  private  Sir  ? 

Enter  a  Messenger  with  a  Letter  to  the  Count^  he  reads. 

Count.  Count,  come  to  the  Court  your  business  calls  you  thither^ 
I  will  goe,  farewell  Sir,  I  will  see  your  silks  some  other  time  : 
Farewell  Lazarillo. 

Mer.    Will  not  your  Lordship  take  a  peice  of  Beef  with  me  ? 

Count.  Sir  I  have  greater  business  than  eating;  I  will  leave 
this  Gentleman  with  you.  [Exeunt  Count.  &  Mes. 

Laza.  No,  no,  no,  no :  now  doe  I  feel  that  strain'd  strug- 
ling  within  me,  that  I  think  I  could  prophesie. 

Mer.     The  Gentleman  is  meditating. 

Laza.  Hunger,  valour,  love,  ambition  are  alike  pleasing, 
and  let  our  Philosophers  say  what  they  will,  are  one  kind 
of  heat,  only  hunger  is  the  safest  :  ambition  is  apt  to  fall  ; 
love  and  valour  are  not  free  from  dangers ;  only  hunger, 
begotten  of  some  old  limber  Courtier,  in  pan'de  hose,  and 
nurs'd  by  an  Attourneys  wife  ;  now  so  thriven,  that  he  need 
not  fear  to  be  of  the  great  Turks  guard  :  is  so  free  from  all 
quarrels  and  dangers,  so  full  of  hopes,  joyes,  and  ticklings, 
that  my  life  is  not  so  dear  to  me  as  his  acquaintance. 

Enter  Lazaretto's  boy. 

Boy.     Sir  the  Fish  head  is  gone. 

Laza.    Then  be  thou  henceforth  dumb,  with  thy  ill-boding 

voice. 

Farewell  Millain,  farewell  Noble   Duke, 
Farewell  my  fellow  Courtiers  all,  with  whom, 
I  have  of  yore  made  many  a  scrambling  meal 
In  corners,   behind  Arasses,  on  stairs  ; 
And  in  the  aftion  oftentimes  have  spoil'd, 
Our  Doublets  and  our  Hose  with   liquid  stuff: 
Farewell  you  lusty  Archers  of  the  Guard, 
To  whom  I   now  doe  give  the   bucklers  up, 
And  never  more  with  any  of  your  coat 
Will  eat  for  wagers,   now  you  happy  be, 
When  this  shall  light  upon  you,  think  on  me  : 
You  sewers,  carvers,  ushers  of  the  court 

109 


THE  WOMAN-HATER      ACT  in 

Sirnamed  gentle  for  your  fair  demean, 

Here   I   doe  take  of  you  my  last  farewell, 

May  you  stand  stifly  in  your  proper  places,  and  execute  your 

offices  aright. 

Farewell  you  Maidens,  with   your  mother  eke, 
Farewell  you  courtly  Chaplains  that   be  there 
All  good  attend  you,   may  you  never  more 
Marry  your  Patrons  Ladys  wayting-woman, 
But  may  you  raised  be   by  this  my  fall 
May  Lazarillo  suffer  for  you  all. 

Merc.     Sir  I   was  hearkning  to  you. 

Laz.  I  will  hear  nothing,  I  will  break  my  knife,  the  Ensign 
of  my  former  happy  state,  knock  out  my  teeth,  have  them 
hung  at  a  Barbers,  and  enter  into  Religion. 

Boy.     Why  Sir,  I  think  I  know  whither  it  is  gone. 

Laza.  See  the  rashness  of  man  in  his  nature,  whither  ? 
I  do  unsay  all  that  I  have  said,  go  on,  go  on  :  Boy,  I  humble 
my  self  and  follow  thee  ;  Farewell  Sir. 

Mer.     Not  so  Sir,  you  shall  take  a  piece  of  Beef  with  me. 

Laz.     I  cannot  stay. 

Mer.  By  my  fay  but  you  shall  Sir,  in  regard  of  your 
love  to  learning,  and  your  [sjkill  in  the  black  Art. 

Laz.     I  do  hate  learning,  and  I  have  no  skill  in  [the]  black 
Art,  I  would  I  had. 

Mer.    Why  your  desire  is  sufficient  to  me,  you  shall  stay. 

Laz.  The  most  horrible  and  detested  curses  that  can  be 
imagined,  light  upon  all  the  professors  of  that  Art  ;  may 
they  be  drunk,  and  when  they  goe  to  conjure,  and  reel  in 
the  Circle,  may  the  spirits  by  them  rais'd,  tear  'em  in  pieces, 
and  hang  their  quarters  on  old  broken  walls  and  Steeple  tops. 

Mer.  This  speech  of  yours,  shews  you  to  have  some  skill 
in  the  Science,  wherefore  in  civilitie,  I  may  not  suffer  you 
to  depart  empty. 

Laz.  My  stomach  is  up,  I  cannot  endure  it,  I  will  fight 
in  this  quarrell  as  soon  as  for  my  Prince. 

Draws  his  Rapier.  [Exeunt  Omnes. 

Room,  make  way  : 

Hunger  commands,  my  valour  must  obey. 

no 


ACT  [iv]     THE  WOMAN-HATER 

Attus  [iiii].     Sccena  Prima. 

Enter  Count  and  Arrigo. 

Count.  T"S  the  Duke  private  ? 

JL     Arr.    He  is  alone,  but  I  think  your  Lordship  may 
enter.  \_Exit  Count. 

Enter  Gondarino. 

Gond.     Who's  with  the  Duke  ? 

Arr.  The  Count  is  new  gone  in ;  but  the  Duke  will  come 
forth,  before  you  can  be  weary  of  waiting. 

Gond.     I  will  attend  him  here. 

Arr.     I  must  wait  without  the  door.  [Exit  Arrigo. 

Gond.  Doth  he  hope  to  clear  his  Sister  ?  she  will  come 
no  more  to  my  house,  to  laugh  at  me  :  I  have  sent  her  to 
a  habitation,  where  when  she  shall  be  seen,  it  will  set  a 
gloss  upon  her  name  ;  yet  upon  my  soul  I  have  bestow'd  her 
amongst  the  purest  hearted  creatures  of  her  sex,  and  the  freest 
from  dissimulation  ;  for  their  deeds  are  all  alike,  only  they  dare 
speak,  what  the  rest  think :  the  women  of  this  age,  if  there  be 
any  degrees  of  comparison  amongst  their  sex,  are  worse  than 
those  of  former  times  ;  for  I  have  read  of  women,  of  that  truth, 
spirit,  and  constancy,  that  were  they  now  living,  I  should 
endure  to  see  them  :  but  I  fear  the  writers  of  the  time  belied 
them,  for  how  familiar  a  thing  is  it  with  the  Poets  of  our 
age,  to  extoll  their  whores,  which  they  call  Mistresses,  with 
heavenly  praises  !  but  I  thank  their  furies,  and  their  craz'd 
brains,  beyond  belief:  nay,  how  many  that  would  fain  seem 
serious,  have  dedicated  grave  Works  to  Ladies,  toothless,  hollow- 
ey'd,  their  hair  shedding,  purple  fac'd,  their  nails  apparently 
coming  off;  and  the  bridges  of  their  noses  broken  down, 
and  have  calPd  them  the  choice  handy  works  of  nature,  the 
patterns  of  perfection,  and  the  wonderment  of  Women.  Our 
Women  begin  to  swarm  like  Bees  [in]  Summer  :  as  I  came 
hither,  there  was  no  pair  of  stairs,  no  entry,  no  lobby,  but  was 
pestred  with  them :  methinks  there  might  be  some  course  taken 
to  destroy  them. 

in 


THE  WOMAN-HATER     ACT  [iv] 


Enter  Arrigo,  and  an  old  deaf  countrey  Gentlewoman 

suitor  to  the  Duke. 

Arrl.  I  do  accept  your  money,  walk  here,  and  when  the 
Duke  comes  out,  you  shall  have  fit  opportunity  to  deliver  your 
petition  to  him. 

Gentlew.  I  thank  you  heartily,  I  pray  you  who's  he  that 
walks  there  ? 

Ar.  A  Lord,  and  a  Soldier,  one  in  good  favour  with  the 
Duke  ;  if  you  could  get  him  to  deliver  your  Petition — 

Gentlew.     What  do  you  say,  Sir  ? 

Ar.  If  you  could  get  him  to  deliver  your  petition  for  you, 
or  to  second  you,  'twere  sure. 

Gentlew.     I  hope  I  shall  live  to  requite  your  kindness. 

Ar.     You  have  already.  [Exit  Arri. 

Gentlew.     May  it  please  your  Lordship — 

Gond.      No,  no. 

Gentlew.     To  consider  the  estate — 

Gond.     No. 

Gentlew.     Of  a  poor  oppressed  countrey  Gentlewoman. 

Gond.     No,  it  doth  not  please  my  Lordship. 

Gentlew.  First  and  formost,  I  have  had  great  injury,  then 
I  have  been  brought  up  to  the  Town  three  times. 

Gond.     A  pox  on  him,  that  brought  thee  to  the  Town. 

Gentlew.  I  thank  your  good  Lordship  heartily ;  though  I 
cannot  hear  well,  I  know  it  grieves  you  ;  and  here  we  have 
been  delaid,  and  sent  down  again,  and  fetch'd  up  again,  and 
sent  down  again,  to  my  great  charge  :  and  now  at  last  they 
have  fetch'd  me  up,  and  five  of  my  daughters — 

Gond.     Enough  to  damn  five  worlds. 

Gentlew.  Handsome  young  women,  though  I  say  it,  they 
are  all  without,  if  it  please  your  Lordship  I'll  call  them  in. 

Gond.  Five  Women  !  how  many  of  my  sences  should  I 
have  left  me  then  ?  call  in  five  Devils  first. 

No,  I  will  rather  walk  with  thee  alone, 

And  hear  thy  tedious  tale  of  injury, 

And  give  thee  answers  ;    whisper  in   thine  ear, 

And  make  thee  understand  through  thy  French  hood : 

And  all  this  with  tame  patience. 

112 


Sc.  i          THE  WOMAN-HATER 

Gentlew.  I  see  your  Lordship  does  believe,  that  they  are 
without,  and  I  perceive  you  are  much  mov'd  at  our  injury: 
here's  a  paper  will  tell  you  more. 

Gond.     Away. 

Gentlew.  It  may  be  you  had  rather  hear  me  tell  it  viva 
vocey  as  they  say. 

Gond.     Oh  no,  no,  no,  no,  I  have  heard  it  before. 

Gentlew.  Then  you  have  heard  of  enough  injury,  for  a 
poor  Gentlewoman  to  receive. 

Gond.  Never,  never,  but  that  it  troubles  my  conscience, 
to  wish  any  good  to  these  women  ;  I  could  afford  them  to  be 
valiant,  and  able,  that  it  might  be  no  disgrace  for  a  Soldier  to 
beat  them. 

Gentlew.  I  hope  your  Lordship  will  deliver  my  petition  to 
his  grace,  and  you  may  tell  him  withal — 

Gond.  What  ?  I  will  deliver  any  thing  against  my  self,  to 
be  rid  on  thee. 

Gentlew.  That  yesterday  about  three  a  clock  in  the  after 
noon,  I  met  my  adversary. 

Gond.     Give  me  thy  paper,  he  can  abide  no  long  tales. 

Gentlew.  'Tis  very  short  my  Lord,  and  I  demanding  of 
him — 

Gond.     I'll  tell  him  that  shall  serve  thy  turn. 

Gentlew.      How  ? 

Gond.  I'll  tell  him  that  shall  serve  thy  turn,  begone :  man 
never  doth  remember  how  great  his  offences  are,  till  he  do 
meet  with  one  of  you,  that  plagues  him  for  them  :  why  should 
Women  [only]  above  all  other  creatures  that  were  created  for 
the  benefit  of  man,  have  the  use  of  speech  ?  or  why  should  any 
deed  of  theirs,  done  by  their  fleshly  appetites,  be  disgraceful 
to  their  owners  ?  nay,  why  should  not  an  a6t  done  by  any 
beast  I  keep,  against  my  consent,  disparage  me  as  much  as 
that  of  theirs  ? 

Gentlew.      Here's  some  few  Angels  for  your  Lordship. 

Gond.     Again  ?    yet  more  torments  ? 

Gentlew.     Indeed  you  shall  have  them. 

Gond.     Keep  off. 

Gentlew.     A  small  gratuity  for  your  kindness. 

Gond.     Hold  away. 

Gentlew.     Why  then  I   thank  your  Lordship,  I'll  gather 

B.-F.  X.  H  113 


THE  WOMAN-HATER     ACT  [iv] 

them  up  again,  and  I'll  be  sworn,  it  is  the  first  money  that 
was  refus'd  since  I  came  to  the  Court. 

Gond.    What  can  she  devise  to  say  more  ? 

Gentlew.  Truly  I  would  have  willingly  parted  with  them 
to  your  Lordship. 

Gond.     I  believe  it,  I   believe  it. 

Gentlew.     But  since  it  is  thus — 

Gond.     More  yet. 

Gentlew.     I  will  attend  without,  and  expect  an  answer. 

Gond.  Do,  begone,  and  thou  shalt  expe6t,  and  have  any 
thing,  thou  shalt  have  thy  answer  from  him  ;  and  he  were  best 
to  give  thee  a  good  one  at  first,  for  thy  deaf  importunity,  will 
conquer  him  too,  in  the  end. 

Gentlew.  God  bless  your  Lordship,  and  all  tha[t]  favour  a 
poor  distressed  countrey  Gentlewoman.  [Exit  Gentlew. 

Gond.  All  the  diseases  of  man  light  upon  them  that  doe, 
and  upon  me  when  I  do.  A  week  of  such  days,  would  either 
make  me  stark  mad  or  tame  me  :  yonder  other  woman  that  I 
have  sure  enough,  shall  answer  for  thy  sins  :  dare  they  incense 
me  still,  I  will  make  them  fear  as  much  to  be  ignorant  of  me 
and  my  moods,  as  men  are  to  be  ignorant  of  the  law  they  live 
under.  Who's  there  ?  My  bloud  grew  cold,  I  began  to  fear 
my  Suiters  return  ;  'tis  the  Duke. 

Enter  the  Duke  and  the  Count. 

Count.     I  know  her  chaste,  though  she  be  young  and  free, 
And  is  not  of  that  forc'd  behaviour 
That  many  others  are,  and  that  this  Lord, 
Out  of  the  boundless  malice  to  the  sex, 
Hath  thrown  this  scandal  on  her. 

Gond.  Fortune  befriended  me  against  my  Will,  with  this 
good  old  countrey  gentlewoman  ;  I  beseech  your  grace,  to 
view  favourably  the  petition  of  a  wronged  Gentlewoman. 

Duke.  What  Gondarino,  are  you  become  a  petitioner  for 
your  enemies  ? 

Gond.  My  Lord,  they  are  no  enemies  of  mine,  I  confess, 
the  better  to  [cover]  my  deeds,  which  sometimes  were  loose 
enough,  I  pretended  it,  as  it  is  wisdom,  to  keep  close  our 
incontinence,  but  since  you  have  discover'd  me,  I  will  no  more 

114 


Sc.  i  THE  WOMAN-HATER 

put  on  that  vizard,  but  will  as  freely  open  all  my  thoughts  to 
you,  as  to  my  Confessor. 

Duke.    What  say  you  to  this  ? 

Count.     He  that  confesses  he  did  once  dissemble, 
I'll  never  trust  his  words  :    can  you  imagine 
A  Maid,  whose  beauty  could  not  suffer  her 
To  live  thus  long  untempted,  by  the  noblest, 
Richest,  and  cunningst  Masters  in  that  Art 
And  yet  hath  ever  held  a  fair  repute  ; 
Could  in  one  morning,  and  by  him  be  brought, 
To  forget  all  her  virtue,  and  turn  whore  ? 

Gond.     I  would  I  had  some  other  talk  in  hand, 
Than  to  accuse  a  Sister  to  her  Brother  : 
Nor  do  I  mean  it  for  a  publick  scandal, 
Unless  by  urging  me  you  make  it  so. 

Duke.     I  will  read  this  at  better  leisure  :  [Gondarino,  where 
is  the  Lady  ?] 

Count.     At  his  house. 

Gond.     No,  she  is  departed  thence. 

Count.    Whither  ? 

Gond.     Urge  it  not  thus,  or  let  me  be  excus'd, 
If  what  I  speak  betray  her  chastity, 
And  both  increase  my  sorrow,  and  your  own  ? 

Count.     Fear  me  not  so,  if  she  deserve  the  fame 
Which  she  hath  gotten,  I  would  have  it  publisht, 
Brand  her  my  self,  and  whip  her  through  the  City : 
I  wish  those  of  my  bloud  that  doe  offend, 
Should  be  more  strictly  punish[t],  than  my  foes. 
Let  it  be  prov'd. 

Duke.     Gondarino,  thou  shalt  prove  it,  or  suffer  worse  than 
she  should  do. 

Gond.     Then  pardon  me,  if  I  betray  the  faults 
Of  one,  I  love  more  dearly  than  my  self, 
Since  opening  hers,  I  shall  betray  mine  own  : 
But  I  will  bring  you  where  she  now  intends 
Not  to  be  virtuous :    pride  and  wantonness, 
That  are  true  friends  indeed,  though  not  in  shew, 
Have  entr'd  on  her  heart,  there  she  doth  bathe, 
And  sleek  her  hair,  and  practise  cunning  looks 
To  entertain  me  with  ;   and  hath  her  thoughts 

H  2  115 


THE  WOMAN-HATER       ACT  iv 

As  full  of  lust,  as  ever  you  did  think 
Them  full  of  modesty. 

Duke.     Gondanno,  lead  on,  we'll  follow  thee.          [Exeunt. 

Aft  us   Quart  us.     Scan  a  Secunda. 

Enter  Pandar. 

Pan.  T  TEre  hope  I  to  meet  my  Citizen,  and  [here]  hopes  he 
to  meet  his  [Scholar]  ;  I  am  sure  I  am  grave  enough, 
to  his  eyes,  and  knave  enough  to  deceive  him :  I  am  believ'd 
to  conjure,  raise  storms,  and  devils,  by  whose  power  I  can  do 
wonders  ;  let  him  believe  so  still,  belief  hurts  no  man  ;  I  have 
an  honest  black  cloak,  for  my  knavery,  and  a  general  pardon 
for  his  foolery,  from  this  present  day,  till  the  day  of  his 
breaking.  Is't  not  a  misery,  and  the  greatest  of  our  age,  to 
see  a  handsome,  young,  fair  enough,  and  well  mounted  wench, 
humble  her  self,  in  an  old  stammel  petticoat,  standing  possest 
of  no  more  fringe,  than  the  street  can  allow  her  :  her  upper 
parts  so  poor  and  wanting,  that  ye  may  see  her  bones  through 
her  bodies  :  shooes  she  would  have,  if  [her]  Captain  were  come 
over,  and  is  content  the  while  to  devote  her  self  to  antient 
slippers.  These  premisses  well  considered,  Gentlemen,  will 
move,  they  make  me  melt  I  promise  ye,  they  stirr  me  much  : 
and  wer't  not  for  my  smooth,  soft,  silken  Citizen,  I  would 
quit  this  transitory  Trade,  get  me  an  everlasting  Robe,  sear 
up  my  conscience,  and  turn  Serjeant.  But  here  he  comes,  is 
mine  as  good  as  prize  :  Sir  Pandarus  be  my  speed,  ye  are  most 
fitly  met  Sir. 

Enter  Mercer. 

Mer.  And  you  as  well  encount'red,  what  of  this  heir  ? 
hath  your  Books  been  propitious  ? 

Pan.  Sir,  'tis  done,  she's  come,  she's  in  my  house,  make 
your  self  apt  for  Courtship,  stroke  up  your  stockings,  loose  not 
an  inch  of  your  legs  goodness  ;  I  am  sure  ye  wear  socks. 

Mer.  There  your  Books  fail  ye  Sir,  in  truth  I  wear  no 
socks. 

Pand.  I  would  you  had,  Sir,  it  were  the  sweeter  grace  for 
your  legs  ;  get  on  your  Gloves,  are  they  perfum'd  ? 

116 


Sc.  ii         THE  WOMAN-HATER 

Mer.     A  pretty  wash  I'll  assure  you. 

Pand.  'Twill  serve  :  your  offers  must  be  full  of  bounty, 
Velvets  to  furnish  a  Gown,  Silks  for  Peticoats  and  Foreparts, 
Shag  for  lining  ;  forget  not  some  pretty  Jewel  to  fasten,  after 
some  little  compliment :  if  she  deny  this  courtesie,  double  your 
bounties,  be  not  wanting  in  abundance,  fulness  of  gifts,  link'd 
with  a  pleasing  tongue,  will  win  an  Anchorite.  Sir,  ye  are  my 
friend,  and  friend  to  all  that  professes  good  Letters ;  I  must  not 
use  this  office  else,  it  fits  not  for  a  Scholar,  and  a  Gentleman : 
those  stockin[g]s  are  of  Naples,  they  are  silk  ? 

Mer.  Ye  are  again  beside  your  Text,  Sir,  they're  of  the 
best  of  Wooll,  and  [they  cleeped]  Jersey. 

Pan.     Sure  they  are  very  dear. 

Mer.     Nine  shillings,  by  my  love  to  learning. 

Pan.  Pardon  my  judgement,  we  Scholars  use  no  other 
objects,  but  our  Books. 

Mer.  There  is  one  thing  entomb'd  in  that  grave  breast, 
that  makes  me  equally  admire  it  with  your  Scholarship. 

Pand.  Sir  ;  but  that  in  modesty  I  am  bound  not  to  affedt 
mine  own  commendation,  I  would  enquire  it  of  you. 

Merc.  Sure  you  are  very  honest ;  and  yet  ye  have  a  kind 
of  modest  fear  to  shew  it :  do  not  deny  it,  that  face  of  yours 
is  a  worthy,  learned  modest  face. 

Pand.     Sir,  I  can   blush. 

Mer.  Virtue  and  grace  are  always  pair'd  together  :  but  I 
will  leave  to  stirr  your  bloud  Sir,  and  now  to  our  business. 

Pand.     Forget  not  my  instructions. 

Mer.  I  apprehend  ye  Sir,  I  will  gather  my  self  together 
with  my  best  phrases,  and  so  I  shall  discourse  in  some  sort 
takingly. 

Pand.     This  was  well  worded  Sir,  and  like  a  Scholar. 

Mer.     The  Muses  favour  me  as  my  intents  are  virtuous  ; 
Sir,   ye  shall   be   my  Tutor,  'tis  never   too   late   Sir,   to   love 
Learning. 
When  I  can  once  speak  true  Latine — 

Pand.     What  do  you  intend  Sir  ? 

Mer.  Marry  I  will  then  begger  all  your  bawdy  Writers, 
and  undertake,  at  the  peril  of  my  own  invention,  all  Pageants, 
Poesies  for  Chimneys,  Speeches  for  the  Dukes  entertainment, 
whensoever  and  whatsoever  ;  nay  I  will  build,  at  mine  own 

117 


THE  WOMAN-HATER      ACT  iv 

charge,  an  Hospital,  to  which  shall  retire  all  diseased  opinions, 
all  broken  Poets,  all  Prose-men  that  are  falPn  from  small 
sence,  to  meer  Letters  ;  and  it  shall  be  lawful  for  a  Lawyer, 
if  he  be  a  civil  man,  though  he  have  undone  others  and  him- 
self by  the  language,  to  retire  to  this  poor  life,  and  learn  to 
be  honest. 

Pand.  Sir,  ye  are  very  good,  and  very  charitable  :  ye  are 
a  true  pattern  for  the  City  Sir. 

Merc.  Sir,  I  doe  know  sufficiently,  their  Shop-books  cannot 
save  them,  there  is  a  farther  end — 

Pand.     Oh  Sir,  much  may  be  done  by  manuscript. 

Mer.  I  do  confess  it  Sir,  provided  still  they  be  Canonical, 
and  [have]  some  worthy  hands  set  to  'um  for  probation  :  but 
we  forget  our  selves. 

Pand.  Sir,  enter  when  you  please,  and  all  good  language 
tip  your  tongue. 

Merc.     All  that  love  Learning  pray  for  my  good  success. 

[Exit  Mercer. 

Affus  Quartus.     Sccena  'Tertia. 

Enter  Lazarello  and  his  Boy. 

Laz.  [  T)  Oy,  whereabouts]  are  we  ? 

J      Boy.     Sir,  by  all  tokens  this  is  the  house, 
bawdy  I  am  sure,  [by]  the  broken  windows,  the  Fish  head  is 
within  ;  if  ye  dare  venture,  here  you  may  surprize  it. 

Laz.  The  misery  of  man  may  fitly  be  compar'd  to  a  Di- 
dapper,  who  when  she  is  under  water,  past  our  sight,  and 
indeed  can  seem  no  more  to  us,  rises  again  ;  shakes  but  her 
self,  and  is  the  same  she  was,  so  is  it  still  with  transitory  man, 
this  day:  oh  but  an  hour  since,  and  I  was  mighty,  mighty  in 
knowledge,  mighty  in  my  hopes,  mighty  in  blessed  means, 
and  was  so  truly  happy,  that  I  durst  have  said,  live  Lazaretto, 
and  be  satisfied  :  but  now — 

Boy.  Sir,  ye  are  yet  afloat,  and  may  recover,  be  not  your 
own  wreck,  here  lies  the  harbor,  goe  in  and  ride  at  ease. 

Laz.  Boy,  I  am  receiv'd  to  be  a  Gentleman,  a  Courtier, 
and  a  man  of  aclion,  modest,  and  wise,  and  be  it  spoken  with 
thy  reverence,  Child,  abounding  virtuous  ;  and  wouldst  thou 

118 


Sc.  in        THE  WOMAN-HATER 

have  a  man  of  these  choise  habits,  covet  the  cover  of  a  bawdy- 
house  ?  yet  if  I  goe  not  in,  I  am  but — 

Boy.     But  what  Sir  ? 

Laz.  Dust  boy,  but  dust,  and  my  soul  unsatisfied  shall 
haunt  the  keepers  of  my  blessed  Saint,  and  I  will  appear. 

Boy.  An  ass  to  all  men  ;  Sir,  these  are  no  means  to  stay 
your  appetite,  you  must  resolve  to  enter. 

Laz.    Were  not  the  house  subject  to  Martial  Law — 

Boy.  If  that  be  all,  Sir,  ye  may  enter,  for  ye  can  know 
nothing  here  that  the  Court  is  ignorant  of,  only  the  more 
eyes  shall  look  upon  you,  for  there  they  wink  one  at  anothers 
faults. 

Laz.     If  I  doe  not. 

Boy.  Then  ye  must  beat  fairly  back  again,  fall  to  your 
physical  mess  of  porridge,  and  the  twice  sack'd  carkass  of 
a  Capon  :  Fortune  may  favour  you  so  much,  to  send  the 
bread  to  it  :  but  it's  a  mee[re]  venture,  and  money  may  be  put 
out  upon  it. 

Laz.  I  will  go  in  and  live ;  pretend  some  love  to  the  Gentle- 
woman, screw  my  self  in  affection,  and  so  be  satisfied. 

Pan.  This  Fly  is  caught,  is  mash'd  already,  I  will  suck 
him,  and  lay  him  by. 

Boy.  Muffle  your  self  in  your  cloak  by  any  means,  'tis 
a  receiv'd  thing  among  gallants,  to  walk  to  their  leachery, 
as  though  they  had  the  rheum,  'twas  well  you  brought  not 
your  horse. 

Laz.    Why  Boy  ? 

Boy.  Faith  Sir,  'tis  the  fashion  of  our  Gentry,  to  have 
their  horses  wait  at  door  like  men,  while  the  beasts  their 
Masters,  are  within  at  rack  and  manger,  'twould  have  dis- 
cover'd  much. 

Laz.  I  will  lay  by  these  habits,  forms,  and  grave  respects 
of  what  I  am,  and  be  my  self;  only  my  appetite,  my  fire,  my 
soul,  my  being,  my  dear  appetite  shall  go  along  with  me, 
arm'd  with  whose  strength,  I  fearless  will  attempt  the  greatest 
danger  dare  oppose  my  fury :  I  am  resolv'd  where  ever  that 
thou  art,  most  sacred  dish,  hid  from  unhallow'd  eyes,  to  find 
thee  out. 

Be'st  thou  in   Hell,  rap't  by  Proserpina, 
To  be  a  rival  in  black  Pluto's  love  ; 

119 


THE  WOMAN-HATER       ACT  iv 

Or  mov'st  thou  in  the   heavens,  a  form   Divine  : 

Lashing  the  lazie   Sphear[s], 

Or  if  thou   be'st  return'd   to  thy   first  Being, 

Thy  mother   Sea,  the[re]   will   I  seek  thee  forth. 

Earth,  Air,   nor  Fire, 

Nor  the  black  shades  below  shall   bar  my  sight 

So  daring  is  my  powerful  appetite. 

Boy.  Sir,  you  may  save  this  long  voyage,  and  take  a  shorter 
cut  :  you  have  forgot  your  self,  the  fish  head's  here,  your  own 
imaginations  have  made  you  mad. 

Laz.     Term   it  a  jealous  fury,  good  my  boy. 

Boy.  Faith  Sir  term  it  what  you  will,  you  must  use  other 
terms  [ere]  you  can  get  it. 

Laz.     The  looks  of  my  sweet  love  are  fair, 
Fresh  and  feeding  as  the  air. 

Boy.     Sir,  you  forget  your  self. 

Laz.     Was  never  seen  so  rare  a  head, 
Of  any  Fish  alive  or  dead. 

Boy.     Good  Sir  remember  :    this  is  the  house,  Sir. 

Laz.     Cursed  be  he  that  dare  not  venture. 

Boy.     Pity  your  self,  Sir,  and  leave  this  fury. 

Laz.     For  such  a  prize,  and  so  I  enter. 

[Exit  Lazarello  and  Boy. 

Pan.     Dun's  i'th'  mire,  get  out  again  how   he  can  : 
My  honest  gallant,  I'll  shew  you  one  trick  more 
Than  e'er  the  fool  your  father  dream'd  of  yet. 
Madona 


Enter  Madona  Julia,  a   Whore. 

lia.    What  news  my  sweet  rogue,  my  dear  sins-broker, 
what  ?    good  news  ? 

Pan.     There  is  a  kind  of  ignorant  thing, 
Much  like  a  Courtier,  now  gone  in. 

Jul.     Is  he  gallant  ? 

Pan.  He  shines  not  very  gloriously,  nor  does  he  wear  one 
skin  perfum'd  to  keep  the  other  sweet  ;  his  coat  is  not  in  Or, 
nor  does  the  world  run  yet  on  wheels  with  him  ;  he's  rich 
enough,  and  has  a  small  thing  follows  him,  like  to  a  boat 
tyed  to  a  tall  ships  tail  :  give  him  entertainment,  be  light, 
and  flashing  like  a  Meteor,  hug  him  about  the  neck,  give  him 

120 


Sc.  in        THE  WOMAN-HATER 

a  kiss,  and  lisping  cry,  good  Sir  ;  and  he's  thine  own,  as  fast  as 
he  were  tied  to  thine  arms  by  Indenture[s]. 

Jul.  I  dare  doe  more  than  this,  if  he  be  o'th'  true  Court 
cut  ;  I'll  take  him  out  a  lesson  worth  the  Learning  :  but  we 
are  but  their  Apes  ;  what's  he  worth  ? 

Pan.  Be  he  rich,  or  poor  ;  if  he  will  take  thee  with  him, 
thou  maist  use  thy  trade  [free]  from  Constables,  and  Marshals  : 
who  hath  been  here  since  I  went  out  ? 

Jul.  There  is  a  Gentlewoman  sent  hither  by  a  Lord,  she's 
a  piece  of  dainty  stuff  my  rogue,  smooth  and  soft,  as  new  Sattin ; 
she  was  never  gumm'd  yet  boy,  nor  fretted. 

Pan.     Where  lies  she  ? 

Jul.  She  lies  above,  towards  the  street,  not  to  be  spoke 
with,  but  by  [the]  Lord  that  sent  her,  or  some  from  him,  we 
have  in  charge  from  his  servants. 

Enter  Lazarello. 

Pan.  Peace,  he  comes  out  again  upon  discovery ;  up  with 
all  your  Canvas,  hale  him  in  ;  and  when  thou  hast  done,  clap 
him  aboard  bravely,  my  valiant  Pinnace. 

Jul.     Begone,  I  shall  doe  reason  with  him. 

Laz.     Are  you  the  special  beauty  of  this  house  ? 

Jul.  Sir,  you  have  given  it  a  more  special  regard  by  your 
good  language,  than  these  black  brows  can  merit. 

Laz.     Lady,  you  are  fair. 

Jul.  Fair  Sir  ?  I  thank  ye  ;  all  the  poor  means  I  have  left 
to  be  thought  grateful,  is  but  a  kiss,  and  ye  shall  have  it  Sir. 

Laz.     Ye  have  a  very  moving  lip. 

Jul.  Prove  it  again  Sir,  it  may  be  your  sense  was  set  too 
high,  and  so  over-wrought  it  self. 

Laz,  'Tis  still  the  same :  how  far  may  ye  hold  the  time  to 
be  spent  Lady  ? 

Jul.     Four  a  clock,  Sir. 

Laz.     I  have  not  eat  to  day. 

Jul.  You  will  have  the  better  stomach  to  your  supper  ; 
in  the  mean  time  I'll  feed  you  with  delight. 

Laz.  'Tis  not  so  good  upon  an  empty  stomach  :  if  it 
might  be  without  the  trouble  of  your  house,  I  would  eat  ? 

Jul.     Sir,  we  can  have  a  Capon   ready. 

Laz.     The  day  ? 

121 


THE  WOMAN-HATER      ACT  iv 

Jul.    'Tis  Friday,  Sir. 

Laz.      I  do  eat  little  flesh  upon  these  days. 

JuL  Come  sweet,  ye  shall  not  think  on  meat ;  I'll  drown 
it  with  a  better  appetite. 

Laz.     I  feel  it  work  more  strangely,  I  must  eat. 

'Jul.  'Tis  now  too  late  to  send  ;  I  say  ye  shall  not  think 
on  meat  :  if  ye  do,  by  this  kiss  I'll  be  angry. 

Laz.  I  could  be  far  more  sprightful,  had  I  eaten,  and 
more  lasting. 

Jul.  What  will  you  have  Sir  ?  name  but  the  Fish,  my 
Maid  shall  bring  it,  if  it  may  be  got. 

Laz.  Methinks  your  house  should  not  be  so  unfurnish'd, 
as  not  to  have  some  pretty  modicum. 

yul.     It  is  [so]  now:  but  cou'd  ye  stay  till  supper  ? 

Laz.  Sure  I  have  offended  highly,  and  much,  and  my 
[inflections  makes  it  manifest,  I  will  retire  henceforth,  and 
keep  my  chamber,  live  privately,  and  dye  forgotten. 

JuL  Sir,  I  must  crave  your  pardon,  I  had  forgot  my 
self;  I  have  a  dish  of  meat  within,  and  it  is  fish  ;  I  think  this 
Dukedom  holds  not  a  daintier  :  'tis  an  Umbranoes  head. 

Laz.     [Lady,  this]  kiss  is  yours,  and  this. 

Jul.  Hoe  !  within  there  !  cover  the  board,  and  set  the 
Fish  head  on  it. 

Laz.  Now  am  I  so  truly  happy,  so  much  above  all  fate  and 
fortune,  that  I  should  despise  that  man,  durst  say,  remember 
Lazaretto,  thou  art  mortal. 

Enter  Intelligencers  with  a  Guard. 

2  Int.     This  is  the  villain,  lay  [hands]  on  him. 

Laz.  Gentlemen,  why  am  I  thus  intreated  ?  what  is  the 
nature  of  my  crime  ? 

2  Int.  Sir,  though  you  have  carried  it  a  great  while  pri- 
vately, and  (as  you  think)  well ;  yet  we  have  seen  you  Sir,  and 
we  do  know  thee  Lazaretto^  for  a  Traitor. 

Laz.     The  gods  defend  our  Duke. 

2  Int.  Amen,  Sir,  Sir,  this  cannot  save  that  stiff  neck  from 
the  halter. 

Jul.  Gentlemen,  I  am  glad  you  have  discover'd  him,  he 
should  not  have  eaten  under  my  roof  for  twenty  pounds  ;  and 
surely  I  did  not  like  him,  when  he  call'd  for  Fish. 

122 


Sc.  m        THE  WOMAN-HATER 

Laz.     My  friends,  will  ye  let  me  have  that  little  favour — 

1  Int.     Sir,  ye  shall  have  Law,  and  nothing  else. 

Laz.  To  let  me  stay  the  eating  of  a  bit  or  two,  for  I 
protest  I  am  yet  fasting. 

Jul.     I'll  have  no  Traitor  come  within  my  house. 

Laz.  Now  could  I  wish  my  self  I  had  been  a  Traitor,  I 
have  strength  enough  for  to  endure  it,  had  I  but  patience  : 
Man  thou  art  but  grass,  thou  art  a  bubble,  and  thou  must 
perish. 

Then  lead  along,  I  am  prepar'd  for  all : 
Since  I  have  lost  my  hopes,  welcome  my  fall. 

2  Int.     Away  Sir. 

Laz.  As  thou  hast  hope  of  man,  stay  but  this  dish  this 
two  hours,  I  doubt  not  but  I  shall  be  discharged  :  by  this 
light  I  will  marry  thee. 

yuL     You  shall  marry  me  first  then. 

Laz.  I  do  contract  my  self  unto  thee  now,  before  these 
Gentlemen. 

Jul.     I'll  preserve  it  till  you  be  hang'd  or  quitted. 

Laz.     Thanks,  thanks. 

2  Int.     Away,  away,  you  shall  thank  her  at  the  gallows. 

Laz.     Adieu,  adieu.  [Exeunt  Laz.  2  Int.  and  Guard. 

Jul.  If  he  live  I'll  have  him,  if  he  be  hang'd,  there's  no 
loss  in  it.  [Exit. 

Enter  Oriana  and  her  waiting  woman,  looking 
out  at  a  window. 

Orian.  Hast  thou  provided  one  to  bear  my  Letter  to  my 
brother  ? 

Wait.  I  have  enquir'd,  but  they  of  the  house  will  suffer 
no  Letter  nor  message  to  be  carried  from  you,  but  such  as 
the  Lord  Gondarino  shall  be  acquainted  with  :  truly  Madam 
I  suspecl  the  house  to  be  no  better  than  it  should  be. 

Ori.     What  dost  thou  doubt  ? 

Wait.     Faith  I  am  loth  to  tell  it,  Madam. 

Ori.  Out  with  it,  'tis  not  true  modesty  to  fear  to  speak 
that  thou  dost  think. 

Wait.     I  think  it  [be]  one  of  these  [same]  Bawdy  houses. 

Ori.  'Tis  no  matter  wench,  we  are  warm  in  it,  keep 
thou  thy  mind  pure,  and  upon  my  word,  that  name  will  do 

123 


THE  WOMAN-HATER       ACT  iv 

thee  no  hurt  :  I  cannot  force  my  self  yet  to  fear  any  thing  ; 
when  I  do  get  out,  I'll  [have]  another  encounter  with  my 
Woman-Hater.  Here  will  I  sit.  I  may  get  sight  of  some  of 
my  friends,  it  must  needs  he  a  comfort  to  them  to  see  me  here. 

Enter  Duke,  Gondarino,  Count,  Arrigo. 

Gond.  Are  we  all  sufficiently  disguis'd  ?  for  this  house 
where  she  attends  me,  is  not  to  be  visited  in  our  own  shapes. 

Duke.     We  are  not  our  selves. 

Arr.  I  know  the  house  to  be  sinful  enough,  yet  I  have 
been  heretofore,  and  durst  now,  but  for  discovering  of  you, 
appear  here  in  my  own  likeness. 

Duke.     Where's  Lucio  ? 

Arri.  My  Lord,  he  said  the  affairs  of  the  Common-wealth 
would  not  suffer  him  to  attend  always. 

Duke.     Some  great  ones  questionless  that  he  will  handle. 

Count.     Come,  let  us  enter. 

Go  See  how  Fortune  strives  to  revenge  my  quarrel 
upon  these  women,  she's  in  the  window,  were  it  not  to 
undoe  her,  I  should  not  look  upon  her. 

Duke.     Lead  us  Gondarino. 

Gond.     Stay ;    since  you  force  me  to  display  my  shame, 
Look  there,  and  you  my  Lord,  know  you  that  face  ? 

Duke.     Is't  she  ? 

Count.     It  is. 

Gond.     'Tis  she,  whose  greatest  virtue  ever  was 
Dissimulation  ;    she  that  still  hath  strove 
More  to  sin  cunningly,  than   to  avoid  it  : 
She  that  hath  ever  sought  to  be  accounted 
Most  virtuous,  when  she  did  deserve  most  scandal  : 
'Tis  she  that  itches  now,  and  in  the  height 
Of  her  intemperate  thoughts,  with  greedy  eyes 
Expecls  my  coming  to  allay  her  Lust  : 
Leave  her  ;    forget  she's  thy  sister. 

Count.     Stay,  stay. 

Duke.     I  am  as  full  of  this,  as  thou  canst  be, 
The  memory  of  this  will  easily 
Hereafter  stay  my  loose  and  wandring  thought[s] 
From  any  Woman. 

124 


Sc.  in        THE  WOMAN-HATER 

Count.  This  will  not  down  with  me,  I  dare  not  trust 
this  fellow. 

Duke.  Leave  her  here,  that  only  shall  be  her  punishment, 
never  to  be  fetcht  from  hence  ;  but  let  her  use  her  trade  to 
get  her  living. 

Count.  Stay  good  my  Lord,  I  do  believe  all  this,  as  great 
men  as  I,  have  had  known  whores  to  their  Sisters,  and  have 
laught  at  it  :  I  would  fain  hear  how  she  talks,  since  she  grew 
thus  light :  will  your  grace  make  him  shew  himself  to  her, 
as  if  he  were  now  come  to  satisfie  her  longing  ?  whilst  we, 
unseen  of  her,  over-hear  her  wantonness,  let's  make  our  best 
of  it  now,  we  shall  have  good  mirth. 

Duke.     Do  it   Gondarino. 

Gond.     I  must ;    fortune  assist  me  but  this  once. 

Count.     Here  we  shall  stand  unseen,  and  near  enough. 

Gond.     Madam,  Or 7 ana. 

Orla.     Who's  that  ?    oh  !   my  Lord  ? 

Gond.     Shall  I  come  up  ? 

Orla.      Oh  you  are  merry,  shall  I  come  down  ? 

Gond.     It  is  better  there. 

Orla.  What  is  the  confession  of  the  lye  you  made  to  the 
Duke,  which  I  scarce  believe,  yet  you  had  impudence  enough 
to  do  ?  did  it  not  gain  you  so  much  faith  with  me,  as  that  I 
was  willing  to  be  at  your  Lordships  bestowing,  till  you  had 
recover'd  my  credit,  and  confest  your  self  a  lyar,  as  you  pre- 
tended to  do  ?  I  confess  I  began  to  fear  you,  and  desir'd  to  be 
out  of  your  house,  but  your  own  followers  forc'd  me  hither. 

Gond.  'Tis  well  suspected,  dissemble  still,  for  there  are 
some  may  hear  us. 

Orla.  More  tricks  yet,  my  Lord  ?  what  house  this  is  I 
know  not,  I  only  know  my  self :  it  were  a  great  conquest, 
if  you  could  fasten  a  scandal  upon  me  :  'faith  my  Lord,  give 
me  leave  to  write  to  my  brother  ? 

Duke.     Come  down. 

Count.     Come  down. 

Arr.     If  it  please  your  Grace,  there's  a  back  door. 

Count.     Come  meet  us  there  then. 

Duke.     It  seems  you  are  acquainted  with  the  house. 

Arr.     I  have  been  in  it. 

Gond.     She  saw  you  and  dissembled. 

125 


THE  WOMAN-HATER       ACT  v 

Duke.     Sir,  we  shall  know  that  better. 

Gond.     Bring  me  unto  her,  if  I  prove  her   not 
To  be  a  strumpet,  let  me  be  contemn'd 
Of  all  her  sex.  [Exeunt. 


Aftus   Quintus.     Selena    Prima. 

Enter  Lucio. 


Luc. 


N 


Ow  whilst  the  young  Duke  follows  his  delights, 

We  that  do  mean  to  practise  in  the  State, 
Must  pick  our  times,  and  set  our  faces  in, 
And  nod  our  heads  as  it  may  prove  most  fit 
For  the  main  good  of  the  dear  Common-wealth  : 
Who's  within  there  ? 

Enter  a  Servant. 

Serv.     My  Lord  ? 

Luc.  Secretary,  fetch  the  Gown  I  use  to  read  Petitions  in, 
and  the  Standish  I  answer  French  Letters  with  :  and  call  in 
the  Gentleman  that  attends  :  [Exit  Serv. 

Little  know  they  that  do  not  deal  in  State, 
How  many  things  there  are  to  be  observ'd, 
Which  seem  but  little  ;    yet  by  one  of  us 
(Whose  brains  do  wind  about  the  Common-wealth) 
Neglected,  cracks  our  credits  utterly. 

Enter  Gentleman  and  a  Servant. 

Sir,  but  that  I  do  presume  upon  your  secresie,  I  would  not 
have  appear'd  to  you  thus  ignorantly  attir'd  without  a  tooth- 
pick in  a  ribbond,  or  a  Ring  in  my  bandstringfs]. 

Gent.     Your  Lordship  sen[t]   for  me  ? 

Luc.  I  did  :  Sir,  your  long  practice  in  the  State,  under 
a  great  man,  hath  led  you  to  much  experience. 

Gent.     My  Lord. 

Luc.  Suffer  not  your  modesty  to  excuse  it  :  in  short,  and 
in  private,  I  desire  your  direction,  I  take  my  study  already  to 
be  furnisht  after  a  grave  and  wise  method. 

Gent.     What  will  this  Lord  do  ? 
126 


Sc.  i  THE  WOMAN-HATER 

Luc.  My  Book-strings  are  sutable,  and  of  a  reaching 
colour. 

Gent.     How's  this  ? 

Luc.  My  Standish  of  Wood,  strange  and  sweet,  and  my 
fore-flap  hangs  in  the  right  place,  and  as  near  MachlavePs,  as 
can  be  gathered  by  tradition. 

Gent.  Are  there  such  men  as  will  say  nothing  abroad,  and 
play  the  fools  in  their  Lodgings  ?  this  Lord  must  be  followed  : 
and  hath  your  Lordship  some  new  made  words  to  scatter  in 
your  speeches  in  publick,  to  gain  note,  that  the  hearers  may 
carry  them  away,  and  dispute  of  them  at  dinner  ? 

Luc.  I  have  Sir  :  and  besides,  my  several  Gowns  and 
Caps  agreeable  to  my  several  occasions. 

Gent.  'Tis  well,  and  you  have  learn'd  to  write  a  bad  hand, 
that  the  Readers  may  take  pains  for  it. 

Luc.     Yes  Sir,  and  I  give  out  I  have  the  palsie. 

Gent.  Good,  'twere  better  though,  if  you  had  it  :  your 
Lordship  hath  a  Secretary,  that  can  write  fair,  when  you 
purpose  to  be  understood. 

Luc.  'Faith  Sir  I  have  one,  there  he  stands,  he  hath  been 
my  Secretary  these  seven  years,  but  he  hath  forgotten  to  write. 

Gen.  If  he  can  make  a  writing  face,  it  is  not  amiss,  so  he 
keep  his  own  counsel  :  your  Lordship  hath  no  hope  of  the 
Gout  ? 

Luc.    Uh,  little  Sir,  since  the  pain  in  my  right  foot  left  me. 

Gent.  'Twill  be  some  scandal  to  your  wisdom,  though  I 
see  your  Lordship  knows  enough  in  publick  business. 

Luc.  I  am  not  imploy'd  (though  to  my  desert)  in  occasions 
forreign,  nor  frequented  for  matters  domestical. 

Gent.     Not  frequented  ?  what  course  takes  your  Lordship  ? 

Luc.  The  readiest  way,  my  door  stands  wi[de],  my  Secretary 
knows  I  am  not  denied  to  any. 

Gent.  In  this  (give  me  leave)  your  Lordship  is  out  of  the 
way :  make  a  back  door  to  let  out  Intelligencers ;  seem  to  be 
ever  busie,  and  put  your  door  under  keepers,  and  you  shall 
have  a  troop  of  Clients  sweating  to  come  at  you. 

Luc.  I  have  a  back  door  already,  I  will  henceforth  be  busie, 
Secretary,  run  and  keep  the  door.  [Exit  Secretary. 

Gent.     This  will  fetch  'um  ? 

Luc.     I  hope  so. 

127 


THE  WOMAN-HATER        ACT  v 


Enter  Secretary. 

Seer.     My   Lord,   there   are    some    require   access    to    you, 
about  weighty  affairs  of  State. 

Luc.     Already  ? 

Gent.     I  told  you  so. 

Lite.     How  weighty  is  the  business  ? 

Seer.     Treason   my  Lord. 

Luc.     Sir,  my  debts  to  you  for  this  are  great. 

Gent.     I  will  leave  your  Lordship  now. 

Luc.  Sir,  my  death  must  be  suddain,  if  I  requite  you  not : 
at  the  back  door  good  Sir. 

Gent.     I  will  be  your  Lordships  Intelligencer  for  once. 

\Exit  Gentleman. 

Enter  Secretary. 

Seer.     My  Lord. 

Luc.     Let  'em  in,  and  say  I  am  at  my  study. 

Enter  Lazarello,  and  two  Intelligencers, 
Lucio  being  at  his  study. 

1  Int.    Where  is  your  Lord  ? 

Seer.     At  his  study,  but  he  will  have  you  brought  in. 
Laza.      Why    Gentlemen,    what    will    you    charge    me 
withal  ? 

2  Int.    Treason,  horrible  treason,  I  hope  to  have  the  leading 
of  thee  to  prison,  and  prick  thee  on  i'th'  arse  with  a  Halbert  : 
to  have  him   hang'd   that  salutes   thee,  and   call  all   those  in 
question  that  spit  not  upon  thee. 

Laz.  My  thred  is  spun,  yet  might  I  but  call  for  this  dish 
of  meat  at  the  gallows,  instead  of  a  Psalm,  it  were  to  be 
endur'd :  the  Curtain  opens,  now  my  end  draws  on. 

[Secretary  draws  the  Curtain. 

Luc.  Gentlemen,  I  am  not  empty  of  weighty  occasions  at 
this  time  ;  I  pray  you  your  business. 

I  Int.  My  Lord,  I  think  we  have  discover'd  one  of  the 
most  bloudy  Traitors,  that  ever  the  world  held. 

Luc.  Signior  Lazarillo,  I  am  glad  ye  are  one  of  this  dis- 
covery, give  me  your  hand. 

128 


Sc.  i          THE  WOMAN-HATER 

2  Int.     My  Lord,  that  is  the  Traitor. 

Luc.  Keep  him  off,  I  would  not  for  my  whole  estate  have 
touchd  him. 

Laz.     My  Lord. 

Luc.  Peace  Sir,  I  know  the  devil  is  at  your  tongue's 
end,  to  furnish  you  with  speeches  :  what  are  the  particulars 
you  charge  him  with  ? 

[They  deliver  a  paper  to  Lucio,  who  reads. 

Both  Int.  We  [have]  conferr'd  our  Notes,  and  have  ex- 
tracted that,  which  we  will  justifie  upon  our  oaths. 

Luc.  That  he  would  be  greater  than  the  Duke,  that  he 
had  cast  plots  for  this,  and  meant  to  corrupt  some  to  betray 
him,  that  he  would  burn  the  City,  kill  the  Duke,  and  poison 
the  Privy  Council ;  and  lastly  kill  himself.  Though  thou 
deserv'st  justly  to  be  hang'd  with  silence,  yet  I  allow  thee  to 
speak,  be  short. 

Laz.     My  Lord,  so  may  my  greatest  wish  succeed, 
So  may  I  live,  and  compass  what  I  seek, 
As  I  had  never  treason  in  my  thoughts, 
Nor  ever  did  conspire  the  overthrow 
Of  any  creatures  but  of  brutish  beasts, 
Fowls,   Fishes,  and  such  other  humane  food, 
As  is  provided  for  the  good  of  man. 
If  stealing  Custards,  Tarts,  and  Florentines 
By  some  late  Statute  be  created  Treason  ; 
How  many  fellow-Courtiers  can  I  bring, 
Whose  long  attendance  and  experience, 
Hath  made  them  deeper  in  the  plot  than  I  ? 

Luc.  Peace,  such  hath  ever  been  the  clemency  of  my 
gracious  Master  the  Duke,  in  all  his  proceedings,  that  I  had 
thought,  and  thought  I  had  thought  rightly ;  that  malice 
would  long  e'r  this  have  hid  her  self  in  her  Den,  a[n]d  have 
turn'd  her  own  sting  against  her  own  heart:  but  I  well  [now] 
perceive,  that  so  froward  is  the  disposition  of  a  deprav'd 
nature,  that  it  doth  not  only  seek  revenge,  where  it  hath 
received  injury,  but  many  times  thirst  after  their  destruction, 
where  it  hath  met  with  benefits. 

Laz.     But  my  good  Lord — 

2  Int.     Let's  gagg  him. 

Luc.     Peace  again,  but  many  times  thirst  after  destruction, 

B.-F.  x.  I  129 


THE  WOMAN-HATER        ACT  v 

where  it  hath  met  with  benefits ;   there  I  left  :   Such,  and  no 
better  are  the  business  that  we  have  now  in  hand. 

1  Int.     He's  excellently  spoken. 

[2]  Int.     He'll  wind  a  Traitor  I  warrant  him. 
Luc.     But  surely  methinks,  setting  aside  the  touch  of  con- 
science, and  all  [other]   inward  convulsions. 

2  Int.     He'll  be  hang'd,  I  know  by  that  word. 
Laz.     Your  Lordship  may  consider — 

Luc.  Hold  thy  peace :  thou  canst  not  answer  this  speech  : 
no  Traitor  can  answer  it :  but  because  you  cannot  answer  this 
speech,  I  take  it  you  have  confess'd  the  Treason. 

1  Int.     The  Count   Valor e  was    the   first   that   discover'd 
him,   and    can   witness    it ;    but  he   left    the   matter    to    your 
Lordship's  grave  consideration. 

Luc.  I  thank  his  Lordship,  carry  him  away  speedily  to 
the  Duke. 

Laz.     Now  Lazanl/o  thou  art  tumbl'd  down 
The  hill  of  fortune,  with  a  violent  arm  ; 
All  plagues  that  can  be,  Famine,  and  the  Sword 
Will  light  upon  thee,  black  despair  will  boil 
In  thy  despairing  breast,  no  comfort  by, 
Thy  friends  far  off,  thy  enemies  are  nigh. 

Luc.  Away  with  him,  I'll  follow  you,  look  you  pinion 
him,  and  take  his  money  from  him,  lest  he  swallow  a  shilling, 
and  kill  himself. 

2  Int.     Get  thou  on  before.  [Exeunt. 


Attus  Quintus.     Sctena  [2]. 

Enter  the  Duke,  the  Count,  Gondarino,  and  Arrigo. 

Duke.    "XT  Ow  Gondarino,  what  can  you  put  on  now 

1  \|     That  may  [again]  deceive  us  ? 
Have  ye  more  strange  illusions,  yet  more  mists, 
Through  which,  the  weak  eye  may  be  led  to  error  : 
What  can  ye  say  that  may  do  satisfaction 
Both  for  her  wrong'd  honor,  and  your  ill  ? 

Gond.     All  I  can  say,  or  may,  is  said  already : 
She  is  unchaste,  or  else  I  have  no  knowledge, 
130 


Sc.  [n]      THE  WOMAN-HATER 

I  do  not  breathe,  nor  have  the  use  of  sense. 

Duke.     Dare  ye  be  yet  so  wilful,  ignorant  of  your  own 
nakedness  ?    did  not  your  servants 
In  mine  own  hearing  confess 

They  brought  her  to  that  house  we  found  her  in, 
Almost  by  force  :    and  with  a  great  distrust 
Of  some  ensuing  hazard  ? 

Count.     He  that  hath  begun  so  worthily, 
It  fits  not  with  his  resolution 

To  leave  off  thus,  my  Lord,  I  know  these  are  but  idle  proofs. 
What  says  your  Lordship  to  them  ? 

Gond.  Count,  I  dare  yet  pronounce  again,  thy  Sister  is 
not  honest. 

Count.     You  are  your  self  my  Lord,  I  like  your  setledness. 

Gond.  Count,  thou  art  young,  and  unexperienced  in  the 
dark,  hidden  ways  of  Women  :  Thou  dar'st  affirm  with  con- 
fidence, a  Lady  of  fifteen  may  be  a  Maid. 

Count.  Sir,  if  it  were  not  so,  I  have  a  Sister  would  set 
near  my  heart. 

Gond.  Let  her  sit  near  her  shame,  it  better  fits  her  :  call 
back  the  bloud  that  made  our  stream  in  nearness,  and  turn 
the  Current  to  a  better  use  ;  'tis  too  much  mudded,  I  do 
grieve  to  know  it. 

Duke.  Dar'st  thou  make  up  again,  dar'st  thou  turn  face, 
knowing  we  know  thee,  hast  thou  not  been  discover'd  openly  ? 
did  not  our  ears  hear  her  deny  thy  courtings  ?  did  we  not  see 
her  blush  with  modest  anger,  to  be  so  overtaken  by  a  trick  ; 
can  ye  deny  this  Lord  r 

Gond.     Had  not  your  Grace,  and  her  kind  brother 
Been  within  level  of  her  eye, 
You  should  have  had  a  hotter  volley  from  her, 
More  full  of  bloud  and  fire,  ready  to  leap  the  window  where 

she  stood. 
So  truly  sensual  is  her  appetite. 

Duke.  Sir,  Sir,  these  are  but  words  and  tricks,  give  me 
the  proof. 

Count.  What  need  a  better  proof  than  your  Lordship  ? 
I  am  sure  ye  have  lain  with  her  my  Lord. 

Gond.     I  have  confest  it  Sir. 

Duke.     I  dare  not  give  thee  credit  without  witness. 

12  II 


THE  WOMAN-HATER        ACT  v 

Gond.  Does  your  grace  think  we  carry  seconds  with  us, 
to  search  us,  and  see  fair  play :  your  Grace  hath  been  ill 
tutor'd  in  the  business ;  but  if  you  hope  to  try  her  truly, 
and  satisfy  your  self  what  frailty  is,  give  her  the  Test  :  do 
not  remember  Count  she  is  your  Sister  ;  nor  let  my  Lord 
the  Duke  believe  she  is  fair  ;  but  put  her  to  it  without  hope 
or  pity,  then  ye  shall  see  that  golde[n]  form  flie  off,  that  all 
eyes  wonder  at  for  pure  and  fixt,  and  under't  base  blushing 
Copper ;  metall  not  worth  the  meanest  honor :  you  shall 
behold  her  then  my  Lord  transparent,  look  through  her  heart, 
and  view  the  spirits  how  they  leap,  and  tell  me  then  I  did 
belie  the  Lady. 

Duke.  It  shall  be  done  :  come  Gondarino  bear  us  company, 
We  do  believe  thee  :  she  shall  die,  and  thou  shalt  see  it. 

Enter  Lazarello,  two  Intelligencers,  and  Guard. 

How  now  my  friends,  [whome]   have  you  guarded  hither  ? 

2  Int.  So  please  your  Grace  we  have  discovered  a  villain 
and  a  Traitor  :  the  Lord  Lucio  hath  examined  him,  and  sent 
him  to  your  Grace  for  Judgement. 

Count.  My  Lord,  I  dare  absolve  him  from  all  sin  of 
Treason:  I  know  his  most  ambition  is  but  a  dish  of  meat; 
which  he  hath  hunted  with  so  true  a  scent,  that  he  deserveth 
the  Collar  not  the  Halter. 

Duke.  Why  do  they  bring  him  thus  bound  up  ?  the  poor 
man  had  more  need  [of]  some  warm  meat,  to  comfort  his 
cold  stomach. 

Count.  Your  Grace  shall  have  the  cause  hereafter,  when 
you  [may]  laugh  more  freely : 

But  these  are  call'd  Informers  :  men  that  live  by  Treason,  as 
Rat-catchers  do  by  poison. 

Duke.  Would  there  were  no  heavier  prodigies  hung  over 
us,  than  this  poor  fellow,  I  durst  redeem  all  perils  ready  to 
pour  themselves  upon  this  State,  with  a  cold  Custard. 

Count.  Your  Grace  might  do  it  without  danger  to  your 
person. 

Laz.  My  Lord,  if  ever  I  intended  treason  against  your 
Person,  or  the  State,  unless  it  were  by  wishing  from  your 
Table  some  dish  of  meat,  which  I  must  needs  confess,  was 
not  a  subje&s  part  :  or  coveting  by  stealth,  sups  from  those 

132 


Sc.  [n]       THE  WOMAN-HATER 

noble  bottles,  that  no  mouth,  keeping  allegiance  true,  should 
dare  to  taste  :  I  must  confess,  with  more  than  covetous  eye, 
I  have  beheld  those  dear  conceal'd  dishes,  that  have  been 
brought  in  by  cunning  equipage,  to  wait  upon  your  Graces 
pallat  :  I  do  confesse,  out  of  this  present  heat,  I  have  had 
Stratagems  and  Ambuscado's  ;  but  God  be  thank' d  they  have 
never  took. 

Duke.  Count,  this  business  is  your  own  ;  when  you  have 
done,  repair  to  us.  [Exit  Duke. 

Count.  I  will  attend  your  Grace  :  Lazarello,  you  are  at 
liberty,  be  your  own  man  again  ;  and  if  you  can  be  master 
of  your  wishes,  I  wish  it  may  be  so. 

Laz.  I  humbly  thank  your  Lordship  :  I  must  be  unman- 
nerly, I  have  some  present  business,  once  more  I  heartily  thank 
your  Lordship.  [Exit  Lazarillo. 

Count.  Now  even  a  word  or  two  to  you,  and  so  farewell  ; 
you  think  you  have  deserv'd  much  of  this  State  by  this  dis- 
covery :  y'are  a  slavish  people,  grown  subject  to  the  common 
course  of  all  men.  How  much  unhappy  were  that  noble  spirit, 
could  work  by  such  baser  gains  ?  what  misery  would  not  a 
knowing  man  put  on  with  willingness,  e'r  he  see  himself 
grown  fat  and  full  fed,  by  fall  of  those  you  rise  by  ?  I  do 
discharge  ye  my  attendance ;  our  healthful  State  needs  no 
such  Leeches  to  suck  out  her  bloud. 

1  Int.     I  do  beseech  your  Lordship. 

2  Int.     Good  my  Lord. 

Count.     Go  learn  to  be   more   honest,  [when]  I  see  you 
work  your  means  from  honest  industry,         [Exeunt  Informers. 
I  will  be  willing  to  accept  your  labours  : 
Till  then  I  will  keep  back  my  promis'd  favours  : 
Here  comes  another  remnant  of  folly: 

Enter  Lucio. 

I  must  dispatch  him  too.  Now  Lord  Lucio,  what  business 
[bring]  you  hither  ? 

Luc.  Faith  Sir,  I  am  discovering  what  will  become  of  that 
notable  piece  of  treason,  intended  by  that  Varlet  Lazarillo  ; 
I  have  sent  him  to  the  Duke  for  judgement. 

Count.  Sir,  you  have  performed  the  part  of  a  most  careful 
Statesman,  and  let  me  say  it  to  your  face,  Sir,  of  a  Father  to 


THE  WOMAN-HATER        ACT  v 

this  State  :  I  would  wish  you  to  retire,  and  insconce  your  self 
in  study :  for  such  is  your  daily  labour,  and  our  fear,  that  our 
loss  of  an  hour  may  breed  our  overthrow. 

Luc.  Sir,  I  will  be  commanded  by  your  judgement,  and 
though  I  find  it  a  trouble  scant  to  be  waded  through,  by 
these  weak  years  :  yet  for  the  dear  care  of  the  Common- 
wealth, I  will  bruise  my  brains,  and  confine  my  self  to 
much  vexation. 

Count.  Go,  and  maist  thou  knock  down  Treason  like 
an  Ox. 

Luc.     Amen.  [Exeunt. 

Enter  Mercer^  Pandar,  Francissina. 

Mer.  Have  I  spoke  thus  much  in  the  honor  of  Learning  ? 
learn'd  the  names  of  the  seven  liberal  Sciences,  before  my 
marriage ;  and  since,  have  in  haste  written  Epistles  con- 
gratulatory, to  the  Nine  Muses,  and  is  she  prov'd  a  Whore 
and  a  Begger  ? 

Pan.  'Tis  true,  you  are  not  now  to  be  taught,  that  no 
man  can  be  learn'd  of  a  suddain  ;  let  not  your  first  project 
discourage  you,  what  you  have  lost  in  this,  you  may  get 
again  in  Alchumie. 

Fran.  Fear  not  Husband,  I  hope  to  make  as  good  a  wife, 
as  the  best  of  your  neighbors  have,  and  as  honest. 

Mer.  I  will  goe  home  ;  good  Sir,  do  not  publish  this,  as 
long  as  it  runs  amongst  our  selves  ;  'tis  good  honest  mirth  : 
you'll  come  home  to  supper  ;  I  mean  to  have  all  her  friends, 
and  mine,  as  ill  as  it  goes. 

Pan.  Do  wisely  Sir,  and  bid  your  own  friends,  your 
whole  wealth  will  scarce  feast  all  hers,  neither  is  it  for  your 
credit,  to  walk  the  streets  with  a  woman  so  noted  ;  get  you 
home  and  provide  her  cloaths  :  let  her  come  an  hour  hence 
with  an  Hand-basket,  and  shift  her  self,  she'll  serve  to  sit  at 
the  upper  end  of  the  Table,  and  drink  to  your  customers. 

Mer.     Art  is  just,  and  will  make  me  amends. 

Pan.     No  doubt  Sir. 

Mer.  The  chief  note  of  a  Scholar  you  say,  is  to  govern 
his  passions  ;  wherefore  I  do  take  all  patiently ;  in  sign  of 
which,  my  [most]  dear  Wife,  I  do  kiss  thee,  make  haste  home 
after  me,  I  shall  be  in  my  study.  [Exit  Mercer. 


Sc.  [n]      THE  WOMAN-HATER 

Pan.  Go,  avaunt,  my  new  City  Dame,  send  me  what 
you  promis'd  me  for  consideration  ;  and  may'st  thou  prove 
a  Lady. 

Fran.     Thou  shalt  have  it,  his  Silks  shall  flie  for  it. 

[Exeunt. 

Enter  Lazarello  and  his  boy. 

Laz.  How  sweet  is  a  Calm  after  a  Tempest,  what  is 
there  now  that  can  stand  betwixt  me  and  felicity  ?  I  have 
gone  through  all  my  crosses  constantly ;  have  confounded  my 
enemies,  and  know  where  to  have  my  longing[s]  satisfied  :  I 
have  my  way  before  me,  there's  the  door,  and  I  may  freely 
walk  into  my  delights  :  knock  boy. 

Jul    Who's  there?  \Within. 

Laz.  Madona,  my  Love,  not  guilty,  not  guilty,  open 
the  door. 

Enter  Julia. 

Jul.     Art  thou  come  sweet-heart  ? 

Laz.  Yes,  to  [thy]  soft  embraces,  and  the  rest  of  my  over- 
flowing blisses  ;  come,  let  us  in  and  swim  in  our  delights :  a 
short  Grace  as  we  go,  and  so  to  meat. 

Jul.  Nay  my  dear  Love,  you  must  bear  with  me  in  this  ; 
we'll  to  the  Church  first. 

Laz.     Shall  I  be  sure  of  it  then  ? 

Jul.     By  my  love  you  shall. 

Laz.     I  am  content,  for  I  do  now  wish  to  hold  off  longer, 
to  whet  my  appetite,  and  do  desire  to  meet  with  more  troubles, 
so  I  might  conquer  them  : 
And  as  a  holy  Lover  that  hath  spent 
The  tedious  night  with  many  a  sigh  and  tears  ; 
Whilst  he  pursu'd  his  wench  :    and  hath  observ'd 
The  smiles,  and  frowns,  not  daring  to  displease 
When  at  last,  hath  with  his  service  won 
Her  yielding  heart ;    that  she  begins  to  dote 
Upon  him,  and  can  hold  no  longer  out, 
But  hangs  about  his  neck,  and  wooes  him  more 
Than  ever  he  desir'd  her  love  before  : 
Then  begins  to  flatter  his  desert, 
And  growing  wanton,  needs  will  cast  her  off; 

135 


THE  WOMAN-HATER        ACT  v 

Try  her,  pick  quarrels,  to  breed  fresh  delight, 
And  to  increase  his  pleasing  appetite. 

Zul.     Come  Mouse  will  you  walk  ? 
22;.     I  pray  thee  let  me  be  delivered  of  the  joy  I  am  so 
big  with,  I  do   feel   that    high    heat  within    me,  that  I   begin 
to  doubt  whether  I  be  mortal : 
How  I  contemn  my  fellows  in  the  Court, 
With  whom  I  did  but  yesterday  converse  ? 
And  in  a  lower,  and  an  humbler  key 
Did  walk  and  meditate  on  grosser  meats  ? 
There  are  they  still  poor  rogues,  shaking  their  chops, 
And  sneaking  after  Cheeses,  and  do  run 
Headlong  in  chace,  of  every  Jack  of  Beer 
That  crosseth  them,  in  hope  of  some  repast, 
That  it  will  bring  them  to,  whilst  I  am  here, 
The  happiest  wight  that  ever  set  his  tooth 
To  a  dear  novelty:    approach  my  love, 
Come,  let's  go  to  knit  the  True  Loves  knot, 
That  never  can  be  broken. 

Boy.     That  is  to  marry  a  whore. 

Laz.     When  that  is  done,  then  will  we  taste  the  gift, 
Which  Fates  have  sent  my  Fortunes  up  to  lift. 

Boy.  When  that  is  done,  you'll  begin  to  repent  upon 
a  full  stomach  ;  but  I  see,  'tis  but  a  form  in  destiny,  not 
to  be  alter'd.  [Exeunt. 

Enter  Afrigo  and  Oriana. 

Oria.  Sir,  what  may  be  the  current  of  your  business, 
that  thus  you  single  out  your  time  and  place  ? 

Arri.  Madam,  the  business  now  impos'd  upon  me,  con- 
cerns you  nearly,  I  wish  some  worser  man  might  finish  it. 

Ori.     Why  are  ye  chang'd  so  ?    are  ye  not  well  Sir  ? 

Arr.     Yes  Madam,  I  am  well,  wo'd  you  were  so. 

Oria.     Why  Sir,  I  feel  my  self  in  perfect  health. 

Arri.     And  yet  ye  cannot  live  long,  Madam. 

Oria.    Why  good  Arrigo  ? 

Arr.    Why  ?    ye  must  dye. 

Oria.     I  know  I  must,  but  yet  my  fate  calls  not  upon  me. 

Arr.  It  does  ;  this  hand  the  Duke  commands  shall  give 
you  death. 

136 


Sc.  [n]       THE  WOMAN-HATER 

Oria.     Heaven,  and   the  powers  Divine,  guard  well  the 
innocent. 

Arr.     Lady,  your  Prayers  may  do  your  soul  some  good, 
That  sure  your  body  cannot  merit  by  'em  : 
You  must  prepare  to  die.  (mitted, 

Orian.    What's  my  offence  ?  what  have  these  years  corn- 
That  may  be  dangerous  to  the  Duke,  or  State  ? 
Have  I  conspir'd  by  poison,  have  I  giv'n  up 
My  honor  to  some  loose  unsetl'd  bloud 
That  may  give  action  to  my  plots  ? 
Dear  Sir,  let  me  not  dye  ignorant  of  my  faults  ? 

Arr.     Ye  shall  not. 

Then  Lady,  you  must  know,  you're  held  unhonest ; 
The  Duke,  your  Brother,  and  your  friends  in  Court, 
With  too  much  grief  condemn  ye :    though  to  me, 
The  fault  deserves  not  to  be  paid  with  death. 

Orian.    Who's  my  accuser  ? 

Arri.     Lord   Gondarino.  (Duke, 

Orian.    Arrigo,   take   these  words,   and    bear   them  to  the 
It  is  the  last  petition  I  shall  ask  thee  : 
Tell  him  the  child  this  present  hour  brought  forth 
To  see  the  world  has  not  a  soul  more  pure,  more  white, 
More  Virgin  than  I  have  ;    Tell  him  Lord  Gondartno's 
Plot,  I  suffer  for,  and  willingly :  tell  him  it  had  been  a  greater 
honor,  to  have  sav'd  than  kill'd :  but  I  have  done :  strike,  I  am 
arm'd  for  heaven.     Why,  stay  you  ?  is  there  any  hope  ? 

Arri.     I  would  not  strike. 

Orian.     Have  you  the  power  to  save  ? 

Arri.     With  hazard  of  my  life,  if  it  should  be  known. 

Orian.     You  will  not  venture  that  ? 

Arri.     I  will    Lady  :    there   is   that   means   yet   to   escape 
your  death,   if  you  can  wisely  apprehend   [it]. 

Orian.     Ye  dare  not  be  so  kind  ? 

Arri.     I  dare,  and  will,  if  you  dare  but  deserve't. 

Ori.     If  I  should  slight  my  life,  I  were   [to]   blame. 

Arri.     Then  Madam,  this  is  the  means,  or  else  you  die  : 
I  love  you. 

Orian.     I  shall  believe  it,  if  you  save  my  life. 

Arri.     And  you  must  lie  with   me. 

Orian.     I  dare  not  buy  my  life  so. 

137 


THE  WOMAN-HATER        ACT  v 

Arri.     Come,  ye  must  resolve,  say  yea  or  no. 

Orlan.     Then   no  ;    nay,  look  not  ruggedly  upon  me, 
I  am  made  up  too  strong  to  fear  such  looks  : 
Come,  do  your  Butchers  part :   before  I  would  wish  life,  with 
the  dear  loss  of  honour,  I  dare  find  means  to  free  my  self. 

Arr.     Speak,  will  ye  yield  ? 

Orian.  Villain,  I  will  not  ;  Murtherer,  do  thy  worst,  thy 
base  unnoble  thoughts  dare  prompt  thee  to  ;  I  am  above  thee 
slave. 

Arri.  Wilt  thou  not  be  drawn  to  yield  by  fair  perswa- 
sions  ? 

Orian.     No,  nor  by — 

Arri.  Peace,  know  your  doom  then  ;  your  Ladyship 
must  remember,  you  are  not  now  at  home,  where  you  dare 
[jeast  at]  all  that  come  about  you  :  but  you  are  fallen  under  my 
mercy,  which  shall  be  but  small ;  if  thou  refuse  to  yield  : 
hear  what  I  have  sworn  unto  my  self;  I  will  enjoy  thee, 
though  it  be  between  the  parting  of  thy  soul  and  body  ; 
yield  yet  and  live. 

Orian.     I'll  guard  the  one,  let  Heaven  guard  the  other. 

Arri.    Are  you  so  resolute  then  ? 

[Duke  from  above.     Hold,  hold  I  say.] 

Orian.    What  [have]  I  ?  yet  more  terror  to  my  tragedy  ? 

Arri.  Lady,  the  Scene  of  bloud  is  done ;  ye  are  now  as 
free  from  scandal,  as  from  death. 

Enter  Duke^  County  and  Gondarino. 

Duke.    Thou  Woman  which  wert  born  to  teach  men  virtue, 
Fair,  sweet,  and  modest  Maid,  forgive  my  thoughts, 
My  trespass  was  my  love. 
Seize  Gondarino^  let  him  wait  our  dooms. 

Gond.  I  do  begin  a  little  to  love  this  woman  ;  I  could 
endure  her  already  twelve  miles  off. 

Count.  Sister,  I  am  glad  you  have  brought  your  honor 
off  so  fairly,  without  loss :  you  have  done  a  work  above 
your  sex,  the  Duke  admires  it :  give  him  fair  encounter. 

Duke.  Best  of  all  comforts,  may  I  take  this  hand,  and 
call  it  mine  ? 

Ori.     I  am  your  Graces  handmaid. 

138 


Sc.  [n]       THE  WOMAN-HATER 

Duke.  Would  ye  had  sed  my  self:  might  it  not  be  so 
Lady?  * 

Count.     Sister,  say  I,  I  know  you  can  afford  it. 

Or/.  My  Lord,  I  am  your  subject,  you  may  command 
me,  provided  still,  your  thoughts  be  fair  and  good. 

Duke.     Here  I  am  yours,  and  when  I  cease  to  be  so, 
Let  heaven  forget  me :    thus  I  make  it  good. 

Ori.     My  Lord,  I  am  no  more  mine  own. 

Count.     So,  this  bargain  was  well  driven. 

Gond.  Duke,  thou  hast  sold  away  thy  self  to  all  perdition  ; 
thou  art  this  present  hour  becomming  Cuckold  :  methinks 
I  see  thy  gaul  grate  through  thy  veins,  and  jealousie  seize 
thee  with  her  talons  :  I  know  that  womans  nose  must  be 
cut  off,  she  cannot  scape  it. 

Duke.     Sir,  we  have  punishment  for  you. 

Orian.  I  do  beseech  your  Lordship,  for  the  wrongs  this 
man  hath  done  me,  let  me  pronounce  his  punishment. 

Duke.     Lady,  I  give't  to  you,  he  is  your  own. 

Gond.  I  do  beseech  your  Grace,  let  me  be  banisht  with  all 
the  speed  that  may  be. 

Count.     Stay  still,  you  shall  attend  her  sentence. 

Orian.  Lord  Gondarino,  you  have  wrong' d  me  highly ; 
yet  since  it  sprung  from  no  peculiar  hate  to  me,  but  from 
a  general  dislike  unto  all  women,  you  shall  thus  suffer  for 
it ;  ArrigO)  call  in  some  Ladies  to  assist  us  ;  will  your  Grace 
[t]ake  your  State  ? 

Gond.  My  Lord,  I  do  beseech  your  Grace  for  any  punish- 
ment saving  this  woman,  let  me  be  sent  upon  discovery  of 
some  Island  ;  I  do  desire  but  a  small  Gondela,  with  ten 
Holland  Cheeses,  and  I'll  undertake  it. 

Oria.  Sir,  ye  must  be  content,  will  ye  sit  down  ?  nay, 
do  it  willingly  :  Arrigo,  tie  his  Arms  close  to  the  chair,  I 
dare  not  trust  his  patience. 

\G\ond.  Mayst  thou  be  quickly  old  and  painted  ;  mayst 
thou  dote  upon  some  sturdy  Yeoman  of  the  Wood-yard,  and 
he  be  honest ;  mayst  thou  be  barr'd  the  lawful  lechery  of 
thy  Coach,  for  want  of  instruments  ;  and  last,  be  thy  womb 
unopen'd. 

Duke.     This  fellow  hath  a  pretty  gaul. 

Count.     My  Lord,  I  hope  to  see  him  purg'd  e'r  he  part. 


THE  WOMAN-HATER        ACT  v 


Enter  Ladles. 

Oria.      Your  Ladyships  are  welcome  : 

1   must  desire  your  helps,  though    you   are   no    Physitians,  to 
do  a  strange  cure   upon   this  Gentleman. 

Ladies.  In  what  we  can  assist  you  Madam,  ye  may  com- 
mand us. 

Gond.  Now  do  I  sit  like  a  Conjurer  within  my  circle, 
and  these  the  Devils  that  are  rais'd  about  me,  I  will  pray 
that  they  may  have  no  power  upon  me. 

Oria.  Ladies,  fall  off  in  couples,  then  with  a  [s]oft  still 
march,  with  low  demeanors,  charge  this  Gentleman,  I'll  be 
your  Leader. 

Gond.  Let  me  be  quartered  Duke  quickly,  I  can  endure 
it  :  these  women  long  for  Mans  flesh,  let  them  have  it. 

Duke.  Count,  have  you  ever  seen  so  strange  a  passion  ? 
what  would  this  fellow  do,  if  he  should  find  himself  in  bed 
with  a  young  Lady  ? 

Count.  'Faith  my  Lord,  if  he  could  get  a  knife,  sure  he 
wou'd  cut  her  throat,  or  else  he  wou'd  do  as  Hercules  did 
by  Lycasy  swing  out  her  soul  :  h'as  the  true  hate  of  a  woman 
in  him. 

Oria.     Low  with  your  Cursies  Ladies. 

Gond.  Come  not  too  near  me,  I  have  a  breath  will  poison 
ye,  my  lungs  are  rotten,  and  my  stomach  is  raw  :  I  am  given 
much  to  belching  :  hold  off,  as  you  love  sweet  airs  ;  Ladies, 
by  your  first  nights  pleasure,  I  conjure  you,  as  you  wou'd 
have  your  Husbands  proper  men,  strong  backs,  and  little  legs, 
as  you  would  have  'em  hate  your  Waiting-women. 

Oria.  Sir,  we  must  court  ye,  till  we  have  obtain'd  some 
little  favour  from  those  gracious  eyes,  'tis  but  a  kiss  a  piece. 

Gond.  I  pronounce  perdition  to  ye  all  ;  ye  are  a  parcel 
of  that  damned  crew  that  fell  down  with  Lucifer,  and  here 
ye  staid  on  earth  to  plague  poor  men  ;  vanish,  avaunt,  I  am 
fortified  against  your  charms  ;  heaven  grant  me  breath  and 
patience. 

1  Lady.     Shall  we  not  kiss  then  ? 

Gond.  No  sear  my  lips  with  hot  irons  first,  or  stitch  them 
up  like  a  Ferrets  :  oh  that  this  brunt  were  over  ! 

2  Lady.    Come,  come,  little  rogue,  thou  art  too  maidenly 

140 


Sc.  [n]       THE  WOMAN-HATER 

by  my  troth,  I  think  I  must  box  thee  till  thou  be'st  bolder; 
the  more  bold,  the  more  welcome :  I  prethee  kiss  me,  be 
not  afraid.  [She  sits  on  his  knee. 

Gond.  If  there  be  any  here,  that  yet  have  so  much  of 
the  fool  left  in  them,  as  to  love  their  mothers,  let  them  [looke] 
on  her,  and  loath  them  too. 

2  Lady.  What  a  slovenly  little  villain  art  thou,  why  dost 
thou  not  stroke  up  thy  hair  ?  I  think  thou  ne'er  comb'st  it :  I 
must  have  it  lie  in  better  order ;  so,  so,  so,  let  me  see  thy 
hands,  are  they  wash'd  ? 

Gond.     I  would  th[e]y  were  loose  for  thy  sake. 

Duke.     She  tortures  him  admirably. 

Count.     The  best  that  ever  was. 

2  Lady.  Alas,  how  cold  they  are,  poor  golls,  why  dost 
thee  not  get  thee  a  Muff? 

Arri.  Madam,  here's  an  old  Countrey  Gentlewoman  at 
the  door,  that  came  nodding  up  for  justice,  she  was  with 
the  Lord  Gondarino  to  day,  and  would  now  again  come  to 
the  speech  of  him,  she  says. 

Orla.     Let  her  in,  for  sports  sake,  let  her  in. 

Gond.  Mercy,  oh  Duke,  I  do  appeal  to  thee :  plant 
Canons  there,  and  discharge  them  against  my  breast  rather: 
nay,  first  let  this  she-fury  sit  still  where  she  does,  and  with 
her  nimble  fingers  stroke  my  hair,  play  with  my  fingers 
ends,  or  any  thing,  until  my  panting  heart  have  broke  my 
breast. 

Duke.     You  must  abide  her  censure. 

[The  Lady  rises  from  his  knee. 

Enter  old  Gentlewoman. 

Gond.     I  see  her  come,  unbutton  me,  for  she  will  speak. 
Gentlew.     Where  is  he  Sir  ? 
Gond.     Save  me,  I  hear  her. 

Ar.     There  he  is  in  state  to  give  you  audience. 
Gentlew.     How  does  your  [good]   Lordship  ? 
Gond.     Sick  of  the  spleen. 
Gentlew.      How  ? 
Gond.     Sick. 

Gentlew.  Will  you  chew  a  Nutmeg,  you  shall  not  refuse 
it,  it  is  very  comfortable. 

141 


THE  WOMAN-HATER        ACT  v 

Gond.     Nay,  now  thou  art  come,  I  know  it 
Is  the  Devils  Jubile,   Hell   is  broke  loose  : 
My  Lord,   if  ever  I   have  done  you  service, 
Or  have  deserv'd  a  favour  of  your  Grace, 
Let  me  be  turn'd  upon  some  present  action, 
Where  I  may  sooner  die,  than  languish   thus  ; 
Your    Grace    hath    her    petition,   grant   it   her,  and   ease   me 
now  at  last. 

Duke.     No  Sir,  you  must  endure. 

Gentlew.     For  my  petition,  I  hope  your 
Lordship  hath  remembred  me. 

Oria.  'Faith  I  begin  to  pity  him,  Arrigo,  take  her  off,  bear 
her  away,  say  her  petition  is  granted. 

Gentlew.  Wh[i]ther  do  you  draw  me  Sir  ?  I  know  it  is  not 
my  Lords  pleasure  I  should  be  thus  used,  before  my  business 
be  dispatched  ? 

Arr.     You  shall  know  more  of  that  without. 

Oria.  Unbind  him  Ladies,  but  before  he  go,  this  he  shall 
promise  ;  for  the  love  I  bear  to  our  own  sex,  I  would  have 
them  still  hated  by  thee,  and  injoyn  thee  as  a  punishment, 
never  hereafter  willingly  to  come  in  the  presence,  or  sight 
of  any  woman,  nor  never  to  seek  wrongfully  the  publick 
disgrace  of  any. 

Gond.  'Tis  that  I  would  have  sworn,  and  do  :  when  I 
[meddle]  with  them,  for  their  good,  or  their  bad ;  may 
Time  [call]  back  this  day  again,  and  when  I  come  in 
their  companies,  may  I  catch  the  pox,  by  their  breath,  and 
have  no  other  pleasure  for  it. 

Duke.     Ye  are  [too]   merciful. 

Oria.     My  Lord,  I  shew'd  my  sex  the  better. 

Gond.  All  is  over-blown  Sister  :  y'are  like  to  have  a  fair 
night  of  it,  and  a  Prince  in  your  Arms  :  let's  goe  my  Lord. 

Duke.     Thus   through    the    doubtful    streams   of  joy  and 

grief, 
True  Love  doth  wade,  and  finds  at  last  relief. 

[Exeunt  omnes. 


142 


NICE   VALOUR 

A   Comedy. 


The  Persons  represented  in  the  Play. 


Duke  ofGenova.. 

Shamont    his    Favourite,    a    super- 
stitious lover  of  reputation. 

A  passionate  Lord,  the  Duke's  dis- 
trafled  kinsman. 

A  Soldier,  brother  to  Shamont. 

Lapet,    the    cowardly    Monsieur    of 
Nice  Valour. 

A  Gallant  of  the  same  Temper. 

Pultrot,        )  TVJO  Mushroom 

Mombazon,)       Courtiers. 


Two  Brothers  to  the  Lady,  offering 

the  passionate  Lord. 
Four  Courtiers. 
Jester. 

£  P4CSt'       \  In  a  Masque. 
Six  Women,) 

Galoshio,    a    Clown,    such    another 
tryd  piece  of  Mans  flesh. 


WOMEN. 


Lady,  Sister  to  the  Duke,  Shamont'j 

beloved. 
Lapet's  Wife. 


A    Lady,  personating   Cupid,    Mis- 
triss  to  the  mad  Lord. 


The    Scene    Geneva. 


THE  NICE  VALOUR,  OR      ACT  i 
The  PROLOGUE  at  the  reviving  of  this  Play. 

IT's  grown  in  fashion  of  late  in   these  days, 
To  come  and  beg  a   sujff \eranc\e  to  our  Plays 
''Faith   Gentlemen,  our  Poet  ever  writ 
Language  so  good,   mixt  with  such  sprightly  wit, 
He  made  the   Theatre  so  Sovereign 
Jt'ith  his   rare  Scenes,  he  scorn  d  this  crouching  vein  : 
Jl^e  stabbed  him  with  keen  daggers  when  we  prayd 
Him  write  a   Preface  to  a  Play  well  made. 
He  could  not  write  these  toyes,  'tw[a~\s  easier  far, 
To  bring   a  Felon   to  appear  at  th'   Barr 
So  much  he  hated  baseness ;    which  this  day, 
His  Scenes  will  best  convince  you  of  ins  Play. 

Attus  Primus.     Scczna  Prima. 

Enter  Duke,  Shamount,  and  four  Gentlemen. 
Duke. 

SHamount,  welcome  ;    we  have  mist  thee  long, 
Though  absent  but  two  days  :    I  hope  your  sports 
Answer  your  time  and  wishes. 

Sham.     Very  nobly  Sir  ; 

We  found  game,  worthy  your  delight  my   Lord, 
It  was  so  royal. 

Duke.     I've  enough  to  hear  on't. 
Prethee  bestow't  upon  me  in  discourse. 

1  Gent.    What  is  this  Gentleman,  Coz?  you  are  a  Courtier, 
Therefore  know  all  their  insides. 

2  Gent.     No  farther  than  the  Taffaty  goes,  good  Coz. 
For  the  most  part,  which  is  indeed  the  best  part 

Of  the  most  general  inside  ;    marry  thus  far 
I  can  with  boldness  speak  this  one  mans  character, 
And  upon  honor,  pass  it  for  a  true  one  ; 
He  has  that  strength  of  manly  merit  in   him, 
That  it  exceeds  his  Sovereigns  power  of  gracing ; 
He's  faithfully  true  to  valour,  that  he  hates 
The  man  from   Cesar's  time,  or  farther  off, 
That  ever  took  disgrace  unreveng'd  : 
And  if  he  chance  to  read  his  abje6l  story, 

144 


Sc.  i    THE  PASSIONATE  MAD-MAN 

He  tears  his  memory  out ;    and  holds  it  virtuous, 
Not  to  let  shame  have  so  much  life  amongst  us  ; 
There  is  not  such  a  curious  piece  of  courage 
Amongst  mans  fellowship,  or  one  so  jealous 
Of  honors  loss,  or  repu[t]ations  glory  : 
There's  so  much  perfect  of  his  growing  story. 

1  Gent.    'Twould  make  one  dote  on  virtue  as  you  tell  it. 

2  Gent.    I  have  told  it  to  much  loss,  believe  it  Coz. 

3  Gent.     How  the  Duke  graces  him  !    what  is  he  brother  ? 

4  Gent.    Do  you  not  yet  know  him  ?  a  vain-glorious  cox- 
As  proud  as  he  that  fell  for't :  (comb, 
Set  but  aside  his  valour,  no  virtue, 

Which  is  indeed,  not  fit  for  any  Courtier ; 
And  we  his  fellows  are  as  good  as  he, 
Perhaps  as  capable  of  favour  too, 
For  one  thing  or  another,  if  'twere  look'd  into  : 
Give  me  a  man,  were  I  a  Sovereign  now 
Has  a  good  stroke  [a]t  Tennis,  and  a  stiff  one, 
Can  play  at  JEquinoflium  with  the  Line, 
As  even,  as  the  thirteenth  of  September, 
When  day  and  night  lie  in  a  scale  together  : 
Or  may  I  thrive,  as  I  deserve  at  Billiards ; 
No  otherwise  at  Chesse,  or  at  Primer o  : 
These  are  the  parts  requir'd,  why  not  advanc'd  ? 

Duke.     Trust  me,  it  was  no  less  than  excellent  pleasure, 
And  I'm  right  glad  'twas  thine.      How  fares  our  kinsman  ? 
Who  can  resolve  us  best  ? 

i  Gent.     I  can  my  Lord. 

Duke.     There,  if  I  had  a  pity  without  bounds, 

It  might  be  all  bestowed A  man  so  lost 

In  the  wild  ways  of  passion,  that  he's  sensible 
Of  nought,  but  what  torments  him  ? 

I  Gent.     True  my  Lord, 

He  runs  through  all  the  Passions  of  mankind, 
And  shifts  'em  strangely  too  :    one  while  in  love, 
And  that  so  violent,  that  for  want  of  business, 
He'll  court  the  very  Prentice  of  a  Laundress, 
Though  she  have  kib'd  heels  :    and  in's  melancholly  agen, 
He  will  not  brook  an  Empress  though  thrice  fairer 
Than  ever  Maud  was ;    or  higher  spirited 

B.-F.  x.  K  145 


THE  NICE  VALOUR,  OR      ACT  i 

Than   Cleopatra,  or  your  English  Countess  : 

Then  on   a  suddain    he's  so  merry  again, 

Out-laughs  a  Waiting-woman   before  her  first   Child  : 

And   turning  of  a   hand,   so  angry — 

Has  almost  beat  the  Northern   fellow  blind  ; 

That  is  for  that  use  only  ;    if  that   mood   hold   my   Lord, 

Had   need  of  a  fresh   man  ;    I'll   undertake, 

He  shall   bruise  three  a  month. 

Duke.     I  pity  him  dearly  : 

And   let  it  be  your  charge,  with  his  kind   brother 
To  see  his  moods  observed  ;    let  every  passion 
Be   fed  ev'n  to  a  surfet,  which   in  time 
May  breed  a  loathing  :    let  him  have  enough 
Of  every  object,  that  his  sence  is  wrapt  with  ; 
And   being  once  glutted,  then  the  taste  of  folly 
Will  come  into  his  rellish.  [Exit. 

i  Gent.     I  shall  see 

Your  charge  my   Lord,  most  faith  [fully]   effected  : 
And  how  does  noble  Shamount  ? 

Sham.     Never  ill  man 
Until  I  hear  of  baseness,  then  I  sicken  : 
I  am  the  healthfulPst  man  i'th'  kingdom  else. 

Enter  Lapet. 

i  Gent.     Be  armed   then  for  a  fit, 
Here  comes  a  fellow 
Will  make  you  sick  at  heart,  if  baseness  do't. 

Sha.     Let  me  be  gone  :    what  is  he  ? 

1  Gent.     Let  me  tell  you  first, 

It  can  be  but  a  qualm  :    pray  stay  it  out  Sir, 
Come,  y'ave  born  more  than  this. 
Sha.     Born  ?    never  any  thing 
That  was  injurious. 

2  Gent.      Ha,  I  am  far  from  that. 

Sham.     He  looks  as  like  a  man  as  I  have  seen  one  : 
What  would  you  speak  of  him  ?    speak  well  I  prethee, 
Even  for  humanities  cause. 

I  Gent.     You'd  have  it  truth  though  ? 

Sham.     What  else  Sir  ?     I  have  no  reason  to  wrong  heav'n 
To  favour  nature  j    let  her  bear  her  own  shame 

146 


Sc.  i    THE  PASSIONATE  MAD-MAN 

If  she  be  faulty. 

i  Gent.     Monstrous  faulty  there  Sir. 

Sham.     I'm  ill  at  ease  already. 

i    Gent.      Pray  bear  up  Sir. 

Sham.    I  prethee  let  me  take  him  down  with  speed  then  ; 
Like  a  wild  objeft  that  I  would  not  look  upon. 

i  Gent.     Then  thus  :    he's  one  that  will  endure  as  much 
As  can  be  laid  upon  him. 

Sham.     That  may  be  noble : 
I'm  kept  too  long  from  his  acquaintance. 

I  Gent.     Oh  Sir, 

Take  heed  of  rash  repentance,  y'are  too  forward 
To  find  out  virtue  where  it  never  setl'd  : 
Take  the  particulars  first,  of  what  he  endures ; 
Videlicet,  Bastinadoes  by  the  great. 

Sham.     How  !  (sale. 

i  Gent.    Thumps  by  the  dozen,  and  your  kicks  by  whole- 

Sham.     No  more  of  him. 

i  Gent.     The  twinges  by  the  nostril  he  snuffs  up, 
And  holds  it  the  best  remedy  for  sneezing. 

Sham.     Away. 

i  Gent.     H'as  been  thrice  switch'd  from  7  a  clock  till  9. 
Yet  with  a  Cart-Horse  stomach,  fell  to  breakfast ; 
Forgetful  of  his  smart. 

Sham.      Nay,  the  disgrace  on't ; 
There's  no  smart  but  that  :    base  things  are  felt 
More  by  their  shames  than  hurts,  Sir.   I  know  you  not. 
But  that  you  live  an  injury  to  nature  : 
I'm  heartily  angry  with  you. 

Lap.     Pray  give  your  blow  or  kick,  and  begone  then  : 
For  I  ne'er  saw  you  before  ;    and  indeed, 
Have  nothing  to  say  to  you,  for  I  know  you  not. 

Sham.     Why  wouldst  thou  take  a  blow  ? 

Lap.     I  would  not  Sir, 

Unless  'twere  offer' d  me  ;    and  if  from  an  enemy — 
I'd  be  loth  to  deny  it  from  a  stranger. 

Sham.     What,  a  blow? 
Endure  a  blow  ?   and  shall  he  live  that  gives  it  ? 

Lap.     Many  a  fair  year why  not  Sir? 

Sham.     Let  me  wonder  ! 

K  2  147 


THE  NICE  VALOUR,  OR      ACT  i 

As  full  a  man   to  sec  to,  and  as  perfect — 
I   prethee  live   not   long — 

Lap.      How  ? 

Sham.      Let   me   in  treat   it  : 

Thou  dost   not  know  what  wrong  thou  dost  mankind, 
To  walk  so  long  here  ;    not  to  dye  betimes. 
Let  me  advise  thee,  while  thou  hast  to  live  here, 
Kv'n   for  man's  honour  sake,  take  not  a  blow  more. 

Lap.     You  should  advise  them  not  to  strike  me  then  Sir, 
For  I'll  take  none  I  assure  you,  'less  they  are  given. 

Sham.     How  fain  would  I  preserve  mans  form  from  shame 
And  cannot  get  it  done  !    however  Sir, 
I   charge  thee  live  not  long. 

Lap.     This  is  worse  than  beating. 

Sham.     Of  what  profession  art  thou,  tell  me  Sir, 
Besides  a  Tailor  ?    for  I'll   know  the  truth. 

Lap.     A  Tailor  ?    I'm  as  good  a  Gentleman — 
Can  shew  my  Arms  and  all. 

Sham.     How  black  and  blew  they  are  ! 
Is  that  your  manifestation  ?    upon  pain 
Of  pounding  thee  to  dust,  assume  not  wrongfully 
The  name  of  Gentleman,  because  I'm  one, 
That  must  not  let  thee  live. 

Lap.     I  have  done,  I  have  done  Sir. 
If  there  be  any  harm,   beshrew  the   Herald, 
I'm  sure  I  ha'   not  been  so  long  a  Gentleman, 
To  make  this  anger  :    I  have  nothing  no  where, 
But  what  I  dearly  pay  for.  [Exit. 

Sham.     Groom   begone  ; 
I   never  was  so  heart-sick  yet  of  man. 

Enter  Lady,  the  Dukes  Sister,   Lapet's  wife. 

i  Gent.      Here  comes  a  cordial,  Sir,   from  th'other  sex, 
Able  to  make  a  dying  face  look  chearful. 

Sham.     The  blessedness  of  Ladies — . 

Lady.     Y'are  well  met  Sir. 

Sham.     The  sight  of  you  has  put  an  evil  from  me, 
Whose  breath  was  able  to  make  virtue  sicken. 

Lady.    I'm  glad  I  came  so  fortunately.     What  was't  Sir  ? 

Sham.    A  thing  that  takes  a  blow,  lives,  and  eats  after  it, 

148 


Sc.  i    THE  PASSIONATE  MAD-MAN 

In  very  good  health  ;    you  ha'  not  seen  the  like,  Madam, 
A  Monster  worth  your  sixpence,  lovely  worth.  (Lady, 

[i  Gent.~\  Speak  low  Sir ;  by  all  likely-hoods  'tis  her  Husband, 
That  now  bestow'd  a  visitation  on  me.    Farewel  Sir.     [Exit. 

Sham.     Husband  ?    is't  possible  that  he  has  a  wife  ? 
Would  any  creature  have  him  ?    'tis  some  forc'd  match, 
If  he  were  not  kick'd  to  th'  Church  o'  th'  wedding  day, 
I'll  never  come  at  Court.     Can  be  no  otherwise  : 
Perhaps  he  was  rich,  speak  mistriss  Lapet,  was't  not  so  ? 

Wife.     Nay,  that's  without  all  question. 

Sk.     O  ho,  he  would  not  want  kickers  enow  then  ; 
If  you  are  wise,  I  much  suspect  your  honesty  ; 
For  wisdom  never  fastens  constantly, 
But  upon  merit :    if  you  incline  to  fool, 
You  are  alike  unfit  for  his  society  ; 
Nay,  if  it  were  not  boldness  in  the  man 
That  honors  you,  to  advise  you,  troth  his  company 
Should  not  be  frequent  with  you. 

Wife.     'Tis  good  counsel  Sir. 

Sham.     Oh,  I  am  so  careful  where  I  reverence, 
So  just  to  goodness,  and  her  precious  purity, 
I'm  as  equally  jealous,  and  as  fearful, 
That  any  undeserved  stain  might  fall 
Upon  her  sanctified  whiteness,  as  of  the  sin 
That  comes  by  wilfulness. 

Wife.     Sir,  I  love  your  thoughts, 
And  honor  you  for  your  counsel  and  your  care. 

Sham.      We  are  your  servants. 

Wife.     He's  but  a  Gentleman  o'th'  chamber  ;    he  might 

have  kist  me : 

Faith,  where  shall  one  find  less  courtesie,  than  at  Court  ? 
Say  I  have  an  undeserver  to  my  Husband  : 
That's  ne'er  the  worse  for  him  :    well  strange  lip'd  men, 
'Tis  but  a  kiss  lost,  there'll  more  come  agen.  [Exit. 

Enter  the  passionate  Lord,  the  Dukes  kinsman^  makes 
a  congie  or  two  to  nothing. 

i  Gent.     Look,  who  comes  here  Sir,  his  love-fit's  upon  him  : 
I  know  it,  by  that  sett  smile,  and  those  congies. 
How  courteous  he's  to  nothing  !    which  indeed, 

149 


THE  NICE  VALOUR,  OR       ACT  i 

Is  the   next  kin   to  woman  ;    only  shadow 

The  elclei    Sister  of  the  twain,   because  'tis  seen   too. 

See   how   it  kisses  the   fore-finger  still  ; 

Which   is  the  last  edition,  and   being  come 

So  near  the  thumb,  every  Cobler  has  got   it. 

Sham.     What  a  ridiculous  piece,  humanity 
Here  makes  it  self ! 

I  Gent.     Nay  good  give  leave  a  little,  Sir, 
Y'are  so  precise  a  manhood — 

Sham.     It  afflidls  me 

When  I  behold  unseemliness  in  an  Image 
So  near  the  Godhead,  'tis  an   injury 
To  glorious  Eternity. 

i  Gent.     Pray  use  patience,  Sir. 

Pas.     I  do  confess  it  freely,  precious  Lady, 
And  loves  suit  is  so,  the  longer  it  hangs 
The  worse  it  is ;    better  cut  off,  sweet  Madam  ; 
Oh,  that  same  drawing  in  your  neather  Lip  there, 
Fore-shews  no  goodness,  Lady  ;    make  you  question  on't  ? 
Shame  on  me,  but  I  love  you. 

i  Gent.      Who  is't  Sir, 
You  are  at  all  this  pains  for  ?    may  I  know  her  ? 

Pas.     For  thee  thou  fairest,  yet  the  falsest  woman, 
That  ever  broke  man's  heart-strings. 

i  Gent.     How  ?    how's  this  Sir  ? 

Pas.     What  the  old  trick  of  Ladies  ?    man's  apparel, 
WilPt  ne'er  be  left  amongst  you  ?    steal  from  Court  in't  ? 

i  Gent.     I  see  the  Fit  grows  stronger. 

Pas.     Pray  let's  talk  a  little. 

Sham.     I  can  endure  no  more. 

i  Gent.     Good,  let's  alone  a  little  : 
You  are  so  exacl  a  work  :    love  light  things  somewhat,  Sir. 

Sham.     Th'are  all  but  shames. 

i  Gent.     What  is't  you'd  say  to  me,  Sir  ? 

Pas.     Can  you  be  so  forgetful  to  enquire  it  Lady  ? 

I  Gent.     Yes  truely,  Sir. 

Pas.     The  more  I  admire  your  flintiness  : 
What  cause  have  I  given  you,  illustrious  Madam, 
To  play  this  strange  part  with  me  ? 

i  Gent.     Cause  enough, 

150 


Sc.  i    THE  PASSIONATE  MAD-MAN 

Do  but  look  back  Sir,  into  your  memory, 

Your  love  to  other  women,  oh  lewd  man  : 

'Tas  almost  kill'd  my  heart,  you  see  I'm  chang'd  with  it, 

I  ha'  lost  the  fashion  of  my  Sex  with  grief  on't, 

When  I  have  seen  you  courting  of  a  Dowdie ; 

Compar'd  with  me,  and  kissing  your  fore-finger 

To  one  o'th'  Black-Guards  Mistresses  :    would  not  this 

Crack  a  poor  Ladies  heart,  that  believ'd  love, 

And  waited  for  the  comfort  ?    but  'twas  said,  Sir, 

A  Lady  of  my  hair  cannot  want  pittying  : 

The  Countrey's  coming  up,  farewel  to  you  Sir. 

Pas.     Whither  intend  you,  Sir  ? 

I  Gent.     A  long  journey,  Sir  : 
The  truth  is,  I'm  with  child,  and  goe  to  travel. 

Pas.     With  child  ?    I  never  got  it. 

I  Gent.     I  heard  you  were  busie 
At  the  same  time,  Sir,  and  was  loth  to  trouble  you. 

Pas.    Why,  are  not  you  a  whore  then,  excellent  Madam? 

i  Gent.     Oh  by  no  means,  'twas  done  Sir  in  the  state 
Of  my  belief  in  you,  and  that  quits  me  j 
It  lies  upon  your  falshood. 

Pas.     Does  it  so  ? 
You  shall  not  carry  her  though  Sir,  she's  my  contract. 

Sham.     I  prethee,  thou  four  Elements  ill  brued, 
Torment  none  but  thy  self;    away  I  say 
Thou  beast  of  passion,  as  the  drunkard  is 
The  beast  of  Wine  ;    dishonor  to  thy  making, 
Thou  man  in  fragments. 

Pas.     Hear  me,  precious  Madam. 

Sham.     Kneel  for  thy  wits  to   Heaven. 

Pas.     Lady,  I'll  father  it, 
Who  e'er  begot  it  :    'tis  the  course  of  greatness. 

Sham.     How  virtue  groans  at  this  ! 

Pas.     I'll  raise  the  Court,  but  I'll  stay  your  flight. 

Sham.     How  wretched  is  that  piece  !          [Ex.  Pas.  Lord. 

i  Gent.     He's  the  Dukes  kinsman,  Sir. 

Sham.     That  cannot  take  a  passion  away,  Sir, 
Nor  cut  a  Fit,  but  one  poor  hour  shorter, 
He  must  endure  as  much  as  the  poorest  begger, 
That  cannot  change  his  money  ;    there's  th'  equality 


THE  NICE  VALOUR,  OR     ACT  n 

In  our  impartial   Essence  : 
What's  the   news  now  ? 

Enter  a  Servant. 

Ser.     Your  worthy  brother,   Sir,  'has  left   his  charge, 
And  come  to  see  you. 

Enter  Shamount's  brother,  a  Soldier. 

Sham.     Oh   the  noblest  welcome 
That  ever  came  from  man,  meet  thy  deservings  : 
Methinks  I've  all  joyes  treasure   in   mine  arms  now. 

Sold.     You  are  so  fortunate  in  prevention,   brother, 
You  always  leave  the  answerer  barren,  Sir, 
You  comprehend   in   few  words  so  much   worth — 

Sham.     'Tis  all  too  little  for  thee  :   come  th'art  welcome, 
So  I  include  all  :    take  especial  knowledge  pray, 
Of  this  dear  Gentleman,  my  absolute  friend, 
That  loves  a  Soldier  far  above  a  Mistriss, 
Thou  excellently  faithful  to  'em  both. 
But  love  to  manhood,  owns  the  purer  troth.  [Exeunt. 

Affus  Secundus.     Scan  a  Prima. 

Enter  Shamont's  brother,  a  Soldier  and  a  Lady, 

the  Dukes  Sister. 

Lady.    r  I  ^Here  should  be-  in  this  Gallery — oh  th'are  here, 
Pray  sit  down,   believe  me  Sir,  I'm  weary. 

Sold.     It  well  becomes  a  Lady  to  complain  a  little 
Of  what  she  never  feels  :    your  walk  was  short,  Madam, 
You  can  be  but  afraid  of  weariness  ; 
Which  well  employs  the  softness  of  your  Sex, 
As   for  the  thing  it  self,  you  never  came  to't. 

La.     You're  wond'rously  well  read  in  Ladies,  Sir. 

Sold.     Shall  I  think  such  a  creature  as  you  Madam, 
Was  ever  born  to  feel  pain,   but  in  Travel  ? 
There's  your  full  portion, 
Besides  a  little  tooth-ach  in  the  breeding, 
Which  a  kind  Husband  too,  takes  from  you,  Madam. 

La.     But  where  do  Ladies,  Sir,  find  such  kind  Husbands  ? 

152 


Sc.  i    THE  PASSIONATE  MAD-MAN 

Perhaps  you  have  heard 

The  Rheumatick  story  of  some  loving  Chandler  now, 

Or  some  such  melting  fellow  that  you  talk 

So  prodigal  of  mens  kindness  :    I  confess  Sir, 

Many  of  those  wives  are  happy,  their  ambition 

Does  reach  no  higher,  than  to  Love  and  Ignorance, 

Which  makes  an  excellent  Husband,  and  a  fond  one  : 

Now  Sir,  your  great  ones  aim  at  height,  and  cunning, 

And  so  are  oft  deceiv'd,  yet  they  must  venture  it ; 

For  'tis  a  Ladies  contumely,  Sir, 

To  have  a  Lord  an  Ignorant ;    then  the  worlds  voice 

Will  deem  her  for  a  wanton,  e'r  she  taste  on't : 

But  to  deceive  a  wise  man,  to  whose  circumspection, 

The  world  resigns  it  self,  with  all  his  envy  ; 

'Tis  less  dishonor  to  us  [then]  to  fall, 

Because  his  believ'd  wisdom  keeps  out  all. 

Sold.     Would  I  were  the  man,  Lady,  that  should  venture 
His  wisdom  to  your  goodness. 

La.     You  might  fail 

In  the  return,  as  many  men  have  done,  Sir  : 
I  dare  not  justifie  what  is  to  come  of  me, 
Because  I  know  it  not,  though  I  hope  virtuously  ; 
Marry  what's  past,  or  present,  I  durst  put 
Into  a  good  mans  hand,  which  if  he  take 
Upon  my  word  for  good,  it  shall  not  cozen  him. 

Sol.     No,  nor  hereafter  ? 

La.     It  may  hap  so  too,  Sir  : 
A  womans  goodness,  when  she  is  a  wife, 
Lies  much  upon  a  mans  desert,  believe  it  Sir, 
If  there  be  fault  in  her,  I'll  pawn  my  life  on't, 
'Tis  first  in  him,  if  she  were  ever  good, 
That  makes  one  ;    knowing  not  a  Husband  yet, 
Or  what  he  may  be  :    I  promise  no  more  virtues, 
Than  I  may  well  perform,  for  that  were  cozenage. 

Sol.     Happy  were  he  that  had  you  with  all  fears, 
That's  my  opinion,  Lady. 

Enter  Shamount  and  a  servant  listening. 

Serv.     What  say  you  now,  Sir  ? 
Dare  you  give  confidence  to  your  own  eyes  ? 

153 


THE  NICE  VALOUR,  OR     ACT  n 

Sham.      Not  yet  I   dare  not. 

Serv.     No  ? 

Sham.     Scarce  yet,  or  yet : 
Although   I  see  'tis  he.      Why  can   a  thing, 
That's  but  my  self  divided,   be  so  false  ? 

Serv.     Nay,  do  but  mark  how  the  chair  plays  hi[s]  part  too  : 
How  amoro[u]sly  'tis  bent. 

Sb[a~\m.      Hell  take  thy  bad  thoughts, 
For  they  are  strange  ones.     Never  take  delight 
To  make  a  torment  worse.     Look  on   'em  heaven, 
For  that's  a  brother  :    send  me  a  fair  enemy, 
And  take  him  ;    for  a  fouler  Fiend  there  breathes  not  : 
I  will   not  sin  to  think  there's   ill  in  her, 
But  what's  of  his  producing. 
Yet  goodness,  whose  inclosure  is  but  flesh, 
Holds  out  oft  times  but  sorrily.      But  as  black  Sir, 
As  ever  kindred  was  :    I   hate  mine  own  bloud, 
Because  i[t]   is  so  near  thine.     Live  without  honesty, 
And  mayst  thou  dye  with  an  unmoist'ned  eye, 
And  no  tear  follow  thee.  [Ex.  Shamont,  Servant, 

La.     Y'are  wond'rous  merry  Sir ;    I  would  your  Brother 

Sola1.     Oh  my  Sister,  (heard  you. 

I  would  not  out  o'th'  way,  let  fall  my  words  Lady, 
For  the  precisest  humor. 

Enter  passionate  Lord. 

Pas.     Yea,  so  close. 

Sold.    Th'are  merry,  that's  the  worst  you  can  report  on  'em : 
Th'are  neither  dangerous,  nor  immodest. 

Pas.     So  Sir, 
Shall  I  believe  you,  think  you  ? 

Sold.     Who's  this  Lady  ? 

La.    Oh  the  Dukes  Cosin,  he  came  late  from  travel,  Sir. 

Sold.     Respect  belongs  to  him. 

Pas.     For  as  I  said,  Lady, 

Th'are  merry,  that's  the  worst  you  can  report  of  'em  : 
Th'are  neither  dangerous,  nor  immodest. 

Sold.     How's  this? 

Pas.     And  there  I  think  I  left. 

Sold.     Abuses  me. 


Sc.  i    THE  PASSIONATE  MAD-MAN 

Pas.    Now  to  proceed,  Lady;  perhaps  I  swore  I  lov'd  you, 
If  you  believe  me  not,  y'are  much  the  wiser. 

Sold.     He  speaks  still  in  my  person,  and  derides  me. 

Pas.     For  I  can  cog  with  you. 

La.     You  can  all  do  so  : 
We  make  no  question  of  mens  promptness  that  way. 

Pas.     And  smile,  and  wave  a  chair  with  comely  grace  too, 
Play  with  our  Tastle  gently,  and  do  fine  things, 
That  catch  a  Lady  sooner  than  a  virtue. 

Sold.     I  never  us'd  to  let  man  live  so  long 
That  wrong' d  me. 

Pas.     Talk  of  Battalions,  wooe  you  in  a  skirmish  ; 
Divine  my  mind  to  you  Lady  ;    and  being  sharp  set, 
Can  court  you  at  Half  pike  :    or  name  your  weapon, 
We  cannot  fail  you  Lady. 

Enter   I    Gentleman. 

Sold.     Now  he  dies  : 
Were  all  succeeding  hopes  stor'd  up  within  him. 

I  Gent.     Oh  fie,  i'th'  Court,  Sir? 

Sold.     I  most  dearly  thank  you  ;    Sir. 

i  Gent.    'Tis  rage  ill  spent  upon  a  passionate  mad  man. 

Sold.     That  shall  not  priviledge  him  for  ever,  Sir  : 
A  mad  man  call  you  him  ?    I  have  found  too  much  reason 
Sound  in  his  injury  to  me,  to  believe  him  so. 

i  Gent.     If  ever  truth  from  mans  lips  may  be  held 
In  reputation  with  you,  give  this  confidence  ; 
And  this  his  Love-fit,  which  we  observe  still, 
By's  flattering  and  his  fineness  :    at  some  other  time, 
He'll  go  as  slovenly  as  heart  can  wish. 
The  love  and  pity  that  his  Highness  shews  to  him, 
Makes  every  man  the  more  respectful  of  him  : 
Has  never  a  passion,  but  is  well  provided  for, 
As  this  of  Love,  he  is  full  fed  in  all 
His  swinge,  as  I  may  tearm  it :    have  but  patience, 
And  ye  shall  witness  somewhat. 

Sold.     Still  he  mocks  me  : 
Look  you,  in  aclion,  in  behaviour,  Sir  ; 
Hold  still  the  chair,  with  a  grand  mischief  to  you, 
Or  I'll  let  so  much  strength  upon  your  heart,  Sir — 

155 


THE  NICE  VALOUR,  OR     ACT  n 

Pas.     I   feel  some  power  has  restrained   me  Lady  : 
If  it   be  sent   from  Love,  say,  I  obey  it, 
And  ever  keep  a  voice  to  welcome  it. 

SONG. 

THou  Deity,  swift  winged  Love, 
Sometimes  below,  sometimes  above, 
Little  in  shape,  but  great  in  power, 
Thou   that  mak'st  a  heart  thy   Tower, 
And  thy  loop-holes  Ladies  eyes, 
From  whence  thou  stritfst  the  fond  and  wise. 
Did  all  the  Shafts  in  thy  fair  Quiver 
Stick  fast  in  my  ambitious  Liver  ; 
Yet  thy  power  would  I  adore. 
And  call  upon   thee  to  shoot  more, 

Shoot  more,   shoot  more. 

Enter  one  like  a   Cupid,   offering  to  shoot  at  him. 

Pas.     I  prethee  hold    though,  sweet  Celestial  boy  ; 
I'm  not  requited  yet  with  love  enough, 
For  the  first  Arrow  that  I  have  within   me  ; 
And  if  thou  be  an  equal  Archer  Cupid, 
Shoot  this  Lady,  and  twenty  more  for  me. 

La.     Me  Sir? 

I  Gent.     'Tis  nothing  but  device,  fear  it  not  Lady  ; 
You  may  be  as  good  a  Maid  after  that  shaft,  Madam, 
As  e'er  your  mother  was  at  twelve  and  a  half: 
'Tis  like  the  boy  that  draws  it,  'tas  no  sting  yet. 

Cup.     'Tis  like  the  miserable  Maid  that  draws  it — Aside. 
That  sees  no  comfort  yet,  seeing  him  so  passionate. 

Pas.     Strike  me  the  Duchess  of  Galois  in  love  with  me, 
With  all  the  speed  thou  canst,  and  two  of  her  Women. 

Cu.     You  shall  have  more.  [Exit. 

Pas.     Tell  'em  I  tarry  for  'em.  (now  ? 

i  Gent.    Who  would  be  angry  with  that  walking  trouble 
That  hurts  none  but  it  self? 

Sold.     I  am  better  quieted. 

Pas.     I'll  have  all  women-kind  struck  in  time  for  me 
After  thirteen  once  : 

156 


Sc.  i    THE  PASSIONATE  MAD-MAN 

I  see  this  Cupid  will  not  let  me  want, 
And  let  him  spend  his  forty  shafts  an  hour, 
They  shall  be  all  found  from  the  Dukes  Exchequer  ; 
He's  come  already. 

Enter  again  the  same  Cupid,  two  Brothers,  six  Women 
Maskers,  Cupid's  Bow  bent  all  the  way  towards  them, 
the  first  woman  singing  and  playing,  a  Priest. 

SONG. 

OH  turn  thy  bow, 
Thy  power  we  feel  and  know, 
Fair  Cupid  turn  away  thy  Bow  : 
They  be  those  golden  Arrows, 
Bring  Ladies  all  their  sorrows, 
And  till  there  be  more  truth  in  men, 
Never  shoot  at  Maid  agen. 

Pas.     What  a  felicity  of  whores  are  here  ! 
And  all  my  Concubines  struck  bleeding  new  : 
A  man  can  in  his  life  time  make  but  one  woman, 
But  he  may  make  his  fifty  Queans  a  month. 

Cu.     Have  you  remembred  a  Priest,  honest  brothers  ? 

1  Bro.     Yes  Sister,  and  this  is  the  young  Gentleman, 
Make  you  no  question  of  our  faithfulness. 

2  Bro.     His  growing  shame,  Sister,  provokes  our  care  : 
Priest.     He  must  be  taken  in  this  fit  of  Love,  Gentlemen. 

1  Bro.     What  else  Sir,  he  shall  do't. 

2  Bro.     Enough. 

i  Bro.     Be  chearful  wench.  [A  dance.     Cupid  leading. 

Pas.     Now  by  the  stroke  of  pleasure,  a  deep  oath, 
Nimbly  hopt  Ladies  all ;    what  height  they  bear  too  ! 
A  story  higher  than  your  common  statures ; 
A  little  man  must  go  up  stairs  to  kiss  'em  : 
What  a  great  space  there  is 

Betwixt  Loves  Dining  Chamber,  and  his  Garret ! 
I'll  try  the  utmost  height — the  Garret  stoops  methinks ; 
The  rooms  are  made  all  bending,  I  see  that, 
And  not  so  high  as  a  man  takes  'em  for. 

Cu.     Now  if  you'll  follow  me  Sir,  I've  that  power, 

'57 


THE  NICE  VALOUR,  OR     ACT  n 

To  make  them   follow  you. 

Pas.     Are   they  all  shot  ? 

Cu.     All,  all   Sir,   every  mothers  daughter  of  'em.      (shot 

Pas.     Then  there's  no  fear  of  following  ;   if  they  be  once 
They'll   follow  a  man   to  th'  devil — As  for  you,   Sir — 

[Ex.  with  the  Lady  and  the  Masquers. 

Sold.     Me  Sir  ? 

I  Gent.     Nay  sweet  Sir. 

Sold.     A  noise,  a  threatening,  did  you  not  hear  it  Sir  ? 

i  Gent.     Without   regard,   Sir,  so  would  I   hear  you. 

Sold.    This  must  come  to  something,  never  talk  of  that  Sir. 
You  never  saw  it  otherwise. 

I  Gent.     Nay  dear  merit — 

Sold.     Me  above  all  men  ? 

i  Gent.     Troth  you  wrong  your  anger. 

Sold.     I  will  be  arm'd,  my  honourable  Letcher. 

1  Gent.     Oh  fie  sweet  Sir. 

Sold.     That  devours  womens  honesties  by  lumps, 
And  never  chaw'st  thy  pleasure  : 

2  Gent.     What  do  you  mean,  Sir  ? 

Sold.     What  does  he  mean  t'ingross  all  to  himself? 
There's  others  love  a  whore  as  well  as  he  Sir. 

i  Gent.     Oh,  if  that  be  part  o'  th'  fury,  we  have  a  City 
Is  very  well  provided   for  that  case  ; 
Let  him  alone  with  her,  Sir,  we  have  Women 
Are  very  charitable  to  proper  men, 
And  to  a  Soldier  that  has  all  his  limbs  ; 
Marry  the  sick  and  lame  gets  not  a  penny  : 
Right  womens  charity,  and  the  Husbands  follow't  too  : 
Here  comes  his  Highness  Sir. 

Enter  Duke  and  Lords. 

Sold.     I'll  walk  to  cool  my  self.  [Exit. 

Duke.     Who's  that  ? 

i  Gent.     The  brother  of  Shamont. 

Duke.     He's  Brother  then 

To  all  the  Courts  love,  they  that  love  discreetly, 
And  place  their  friendliness  upon  desert : 
As  for  the  rest,  that  with  a  double  face 
Look  upon  merit  much  like  fortunes  visage, 

158 


Sc.  i    THE  PASSIONATE  MAD-MAN 

That  looks  two  ways,  both  to  life's  calms  and  storms, 
I'll  so  provide  for  him,  chiefly  for  him, 
He  shall  not  wish  their  loves,  nor  dread  their  envies. 
And  here  comes  my  Sbamont. 

Enter  Shamont. 

Sham.     That  Ladies  virtues  are  my  only  joyes, 
And  he  to  offer  to  lay  siege  to  them  ? 

Duke.      Shamont. 

Sham.     Her  goodness  is  my  pride  :    in  all  discourses, 
As  often  as  I  hear  rash  tongu'd  gallants, 
Speak  rudely  of  a  woman,  presently 
I  give  in  but  her  name,  and  th'are  all  silent  : 
Oh  who  would  loose  this  benefit  ? 

Duke.     Come  hither  Sir. 

Sham.     'Tis  like  the  Gift  of  Healing,  but  Diviner ; 
For  that  but  cures  diseases  in  the  body, 
This  works  a  cure  on  Fame,  on  Reputation  : 
The  noblest  piece  of  Surgery  upon  earth. 

Duke.     Shamont ;    he  minds  me  not. 

Sham.     A  Brother  do't  ? 

Duke.     Shamont  I  say.       [Gives  him  a  touch  with  his  switch. 

Sham.     Ha  ? 

If  he  be  mortal,  by  this  hand  he  perishes  ;  \Draws. 

Unless  it  be  a  stroke  from  heaven,  he  dies  for't. 

Duke.     Why,  how  now  Sir  ?    'twas  I. 

Sham.     The  more's  my  misery. 

Duke.     Why,  what's  the  matter  prethee  ? 

Sham.     Can  you  ask  it,  Sir  ? 

No  man  else  should  ;    stood  forty  lives  before  him, 
By  this  I  would  have  op'd  my  way  to  him  ; 
It  could  not  be  you  Sir,  excuse  him  not, 
What  e'er  he  be,  as  y'are  dear  to  honor, 
That  I  may  find  my  peace  agen. 

Duke.     Forbear  I  say, 
Upon  my  love  to  truth,  'twas  none  but  I. 

Sham.     Still  miserable  ? 

Duke.     Come,  come,  what  ails  you  Sir  ? 

Sham.     Never  sate  shame  cooling  so  long  upon  me, 
Without  a  satisfaction  in  revenge, 

'59 


THE  NICE  VALOUR,  OR     ACT  n 

And  heaven  has  made  it  here  a  sin  to  wish  it. 

Duke.     Hark  you  Sir  ! 

Sham.     Oh   y'ave  undone  me. 

Duke.     How  ? 

Sham.     Cruelly  undone  me  ; 
I  have  lost  my  peace  and  reputation   by  you  : 
Sir,  pardon  me,  I  can   never  love  you  more.  [Exit. 

Duke.     What  language  call  you  this  Sirs  ? 

1  Gent.    Truth   my  Lord,  I've  seldom  heard  a  stranger — 

2  Gent.     He  is  a  man  of  a  most  curious  valour, 
Wondrous  precise,  and  punctual  in  that  virtue. 

Duke.     But  why  to  me  so  punctual  ?    my  last  thought 
Was  most  intirely  fixt  on  his  advancement 
Why,  I  came  now  to  put  him  in  possession 
Of  his  fair  fortunes  :    what  a  mis-conceiver  'tis  ! 
And  from  a  Gentleman  of  our  Chamber  meerly, 
Made  him  Vice-Admiral  :    I  was  setled  in't. 
I  love  him  next  to  health  :    call  him  Gentlemen  ; 
Why  would  not  you,  or  you,  ha'  taken  as  much, 
And  never  murmur'd  ?  [Exit  i  Gent. 

2  Gent.     Troth,  I  think  we  should,  my  Lord, 
And  there's  a  fellow  walks  about  the  Court, 
Would  take  a  hundred  of  'em. 

Duke.     I  hate  you  all  for't, 
And  rather  praise  his  high  pitch'd  fortitude, 
Though  in  extreams  for  niceness  :    now  I  think  on't, 
I  would  I  had  never  done't — Now  Sir,  where  is  he  ? 

Enter  I  Gentleman. 

1  Gent.     His  sute  is  only  Sir,  to  be  excus'd. 

Duke.     He  shall  not  be  excus'd,  I  love  him  dearlier  : 
Say  we  intreat  him  ;    goe,  he  must  not  leave  us 

[Exit  two  Gentlemen. 

So  virtue  bless  me,  I  ne'er  knew  him  paralell'd ; 
Why,  he's  more  precious  to  me  now,  than  ever. 

Enter  two  Gentlemen,  and  Shamont. 

2  Gent.     With  much  fair  language  w'ave  brought  him. 
Duke.     Thanks Where  is  he  ? 

2  Gent.     Yonder  Sir. 

1 60 


Sc.  i    THE  PASSIONATE  MAD-MAN      || 

Duke.     Come  forward  man. 

Sham.     Pray  pardon  me,  I'm  asham'd  to  be  seen  Sir. 

Duke.     Was  ever  such  a  touchie  man  heard  of? 
Prethee  come  nearer. 

Sham.      More  into  the  light  ? 

Put  not  such  cruelty  into  your  requests  my  Lord, 
First  to  disgrace  me  publickly,  and  then  draw  me 
Into  mens  eye-sight,  with  the  shame  yet  hot 
Upon  my  reputation. 

Duke.     What  disgrace,  Sir  ? 

Sham.     What  ? 

Such  as  there  can  be  no  forgiveness  for, 
That  I  can  find  in  honour. 

Duke.     That's  most  strange,  Sir. 

Sham.     Yet  I  have  search'd  my  bosom  to  find  one, 
And  wrestled  with  my  inclination, 
But  'twill  not  be  :    would  you  had  kill'd  me  Sir. 
With  what  an  ease  had  I  forgiven  you  then  ! 
But  to  endure  a  stroke  from  any  hand 
Under  a  punishing  Angel,  which  is  justice, 
Honor  disclaim  that  man,  for  my  part  chiefly  : 
Had  it  been  yet  the  malice  of  your  sword, 
Though  it  had  cleft  me,  't  had  been  noble  to  me  ; 
You  should  have  found  my  thanks  paid  in  a  smile 
If  I  had  fell  unworded  ;    but  to  shame  me, 
With  the  correction  that  your  horse  should  have, 
Were  you  ten  thousand  times  my  royal  Lord, 
I  cannot  love  you  never,  nor  desire  to  serve  you  more. 
If  your  drum  call  me,  I  am  vowed  to  valour, 
But  peace  shall  never  know  me  yours  agen, 
Because  I've  lost  mine  own,  I  speak  to  dye  Sir ; 
Would  you  were  gracious  that  way  to  take  off  shame, 
With  the  same  swiftness  as  you  pour  it  on  : 
And  since  it  is  not  in  the  power  of  Monarchs 
To  make  a  Gentleman,  which  is  a  substance 
Only  begot  of  merit,  they  should  be  careful 
Not  to  destroy  the  worth  of  one  so  rare, 
Which  neither  they  can  make ;    nor  lost,  repair.  [Exit. 

Duke.     Y'ave  set  a  fair  light  Sir  before  my  judgement, 
Which  burns  with  wondrous  clearness  ;    I  acknowledge  it, 

B.-F.    X.  L  l6l 


THE  NICE  VALOUR,  OR    ACT  m 

And  your  worth   with   it  :    but  then   Sir,  my  love, 
My  love — what  gone  agen  ? 

I  Gen.     And   full  of  scorn,   my   Lord. 

Duke.     That   language  will   undoe  the  man  that  keeps  it. 
Who  knows  no  difference  'twixt  contempt  and   manhood. 
Upon  your  love  to  goodness,  Gentlemen, 
Let  me  not  lose  him  long  :    how  now  ? 

Enter  a   Huntsman. 

Hunts.     The  game's  at  height  my  Lord. 

Duke.     Confound  both  thee  and  it  :    hence   break  it  off  ; 
He  hates  me  brings  me  news  of  any  pleasure  : 
I   felt  not  such  a  conflict  since  I  cou'd  ; 
Distinguish  betwixt  worthiness  and  bloud.  [Ex. 

Aftus  T'er  tius.     Scczna  Prima. 

Enter  the  two  Brothers,   I  Gentleman,  with  those  that 
were  the  Masquers,  and  the  Cupid. 

I  Gent.  Heartily  commend  your  project,    Gentlemen, 

J[    'Twas  wise  and  virtuous. 

I  Bro.     'Twas  for  the  safety 

Of  precious  honour  Sir,  which  near  bloud   binds  us  to  : 
He  promis'd  the  poor  easie  fool  there,  marriage, 
There  was  a  good  Maiden-head  lost  i'th'  belief  on't, 
Beshrew  her  hasty  confidence. 

I  Gent.     Oh  no  more,  Sir, 
You  make  her  weep  agen  ;    alas  poor  Cupid : 
Shall  she  not  shift  her  self? 

I  Bro.     Oh   by  no  means  Sir  : 
We  dare  not  have  her  seen  yet,  all  the  while 
She  keeps  this  shape,  'tis  but  thought  device, 
And  she  may  follow  him  so  without  suspition, 
To  see  if  she  can  draw  all  his  wild  passions, 
To  one  point  only,  and  that's  love,  the  main  point  : 
So  far  his  Highness  grants,  and  gave  at  first, 
Large  approbation  to  the  quick  conceit, 
Which  then   was  quick  indeed. 

I  Gent.     You  make  her  blush  insooth. 

162 


Sc.  i    THE  PASSIONATE  MAD-MAN 

I  Bro.     I  fear  'tis  more  the  flag  of  shame,  than  grace  Sir. 

I  Gent.     They  both  give  but  one  kind  of  colour,  Sir  : 
If  it  be  bashfulness  in  that  kind  taken, 
It  is  the  same  with  grace  ;    and  there  she  weeps  agen. 
In  truth  y'are  too  hard,  much,  much  too  bitter  Sir, 
Unless  you  mean  to  have  her  weep  her  eyes  out, 
To  play  a  Cupid  truly. 

i  Bro.     Come  ha'  done  then  : 
We  should  all  fear  to  sin  first ;    for  'tis  certain, 
When  'tis  once  lodg'd,  though  entertain'd  in  mirth, 
It  must  be  wept  out,  if  it  e'er  come  forth. 

i  Gent.     Now  'tis  so  well,  I'll  leave  you. 

i  Bro.     Faithfully  welcome,  Sir, 
Go  Cupid  to  your  charge  ;    he's  your  own  now  ; 
If  he  want  love,  none  will  be  blam'd  but  you. 

Cu.     The  strangest  marriage,  and  unfortunat'st  Bride 
That  ever  humane  memory  contain'd  ; 
I  cannot  be  my  self  for't.  \_Exitt 

Enter  the  Clown. 

Clow.     Oh  Gentlemen  ? 

i  Bro.     How  now,  Sir,  what's  the  matter  ? 

Clo.     His  melancholly  passion  is  half  spent  already, 
Then  comes  his  angry  fit  at  the  very  tail  on't, 
Then  comes  in  my  pain,  gentlemen ;   h'as  beat  me  e'en  to  a 
Cullis.     I  am  nothing,  right  worshipful,  but  very  pap, 
And  jelly  :    I  have  no  bones,  my  body's  all  one  business, 
They  talk  of  ribs  and  chines  most  freely  abroad  i'th'  world, 
Why,  I  have  no  such  thing  ;  who  ever  lives  to  see  me  dead, 
Gentlemen,  shall  find  me  all  mummie  good  to  fill  Gallipots, 
And  long  dildo  glasses  :    I  shall  not  have  a  bone  to  throw 
At  a  dog. 

Omnes.     Alas  poor  vassal  ;    how  he  goes  ! 

Clo.     Oh  Gentlemen, 
I  am  unjoynted,  do  but  think  o'  that : 
My  breast  is  beat  into  my  maw,  that  what  I  eat, 
I  am  fain  to  take't  in  all  at  mouth  with   spoons  ; 
A  lamentable  hearing  ;    and  'tis  well  known,  my  belly 
Is  driven  into  my  back. 
I  earn'd  four  Crowns  a  month  most  dearly  Gentlemen, 

L  2  163 


THE  NICE  VALOUR,  OR    ACT  in 

And  one  he  must   have  when   the  fit's  upon   him, 

The  Privy-purse  allows  it,  and   'tis  thriftiness, 

He  would   break  else  s[o]me  forty   pounds  in   Casements, 

And   in   five   hundred   years   undo  the   Kingdom  : 

I   have  cast   it   up  to  a  quarrel. 

1  Bro.     There's  a  fellow  kiclct  about  Court,   I  would 
He  had  his  place,  brother,  but  for  one  fit  of  his  indignation. 

2  Bro.     And  suddainly  I  have  thought  upon  a  means  for't. 

1  Bro.     I  prethee  how  ? 

2  Bro.     'Tis  but   preferring,   Brother 
This  stockfish  to  his  service,  with  a  Letter 

Of  commendations,  the  same  way   he  wishes  it, 
And  then  you  win  his  heart  :    for  o'  my  knowledge 
He  has  laid  wait  this  half  year  for  a  fellow 
That  will   be  beaten,  and  with  a  safe  conscience 
We  may  commend  the  carriage  of  this  man  in't  ; 
Now  servants  he  has  kept,  lusty  tall  feeders, 
But  they  have  beat  him,  and  turn'd  themselves  away : 
Now  one  that  would  endure,   is  like  to  stay, 
And  get  good  wages  of  him  ;    and  the  service  too 
Is  ten  times  milder,  Brother,  I  would  not  wish  it  else. 
I  see  the  fellow  has  a  sore  crush'd  body, 
And  the  more  need  he  has  to  be  kick'd  at  ease.         (Master. 
Clow.    I  sweet  Gentlemen,  a  kick  of  ease,  send  me  to  such  a 
2  Bro.     No  more  I  say,  we  have  one  for  thee,  a  soft  footed 
One  that  wears  wooll  in's  toes.  (Master, 

Clow.     Oh  Gentlemen,  soft  garments  may  you  wear, 
Soft  skins  may  you  wed, 

But  as  plump  as  pillows,  both  for  white  and  red. 
And  now  will  I  reveal  a  secret  to  you, 
Since  you  provide  for  my  poor  flesh  so  tenderly, 
Has  hir'd  meer  rogues  out  of  his  chamber  window, 
To  beat  the  Soldier,  Monsieur  Shamonfs  Brother  : 

1  Bro.     That  nothing  concerns  us,  Sir. 
Clow.     For  no  cause,  Gentlemen, 

Unless  it  be  for  wearing  Shoulder-points, 
With  longer  taggs  than  his. 

2  Bro.     Is  not  that  somewhat  ? 
Birlakin  Sir,  the  difference  of  long  taggs, 

Has  cost  many  a  man's  life,  and  advanc'd  other  some, 

164 


Sc.  i    THE  PASSIONATE  MAD-MAN 

Come  follow  me. 

Clow.     See  what  a  gull  am  I : 
Oh  every  man  in  his  profession  ; 
I  know  a  thump  now  as  judiciously, 
As  the  proudest  he  that  walks,  I'll  except  none  j 
Gome  to  a  tagg,  how  short  I  fall  !     I'm  gone  [Exeunt. 

Enter  Lapet. 

Lap.     I  have  been  ruminating  with  my  self, 
What  honor  a  man  loses  by  a  kick  : 
Why ;    what's  a  kick  ?    the  fury  of  a  foot, 
Whose  indignation  commonly  is  stampt 
Upon  the  hinder  quarter  of  a  man  : 
Which  is  a  place  very  unfit  for  honor, 
The  world  will  confess  so  much  : 
Then  what  disgrace  I  pray,  does  th[a]t  part  suffer 
Where  honor  never  comes,  I'de  fain  know  that  ? 
This  being  well  forc'd,  and  urg'd,  may  have  the  power 
To  move  most  Gallants  to  take  kicks  in  time, 
And  spurn  out  the  duelloes  out  o'  th'  kingdom, 
For  they  that  stand  upon  their  honor  most, 
When  they  conceive  there  is  no  honor  lost, 
As  by  a  Table  that  I  have  invented 
For  that  purpose  alone,  shall  appear  plainly, 
Which  shews  the  vanity  of  all  blows  at  large. 
And  with  what  ease  they  may  be  took  of  all  sides, 
Numbring  but  twice  o'er  the  Letters  patience 
From  C.  P.  to  E.  I  doubt  not  but  in  small  time 
To  see  a  dissolution  of  all  bloud-shed, 
If  the  reform'd  Kick  do  but  once  get  up  : 
For  what  a  lamentable  folly  'tis, 
If  we  observe't,  for  every  little  justle, 
Which  is  but  the  ninth  part  of  a  sound  thump, 
In  our  meek  computation,  we  must  fight  forsooth,  yes, 
If  I  kill,  I'm  hang'd  ;    if  I  be  kill'd  my  self, 
I  dye  for't  also  :    is  not  this  trim  wisdom  ? 
Now  for  the  Con,  a  ma[n]  may  be  well  beaten, 
Yet  pass  away  his  fourscore  years  smooth  after  : 
I  had  a  Father  did  it,  and  to  my  power 
I  will  not  be  behind  him. 

165 


THE  NICE  VALOUR,  OR    ACT  in 


Enter  Shamont. 

Sham.     Oh   well   met. 

Lap.     Now  a  fine  punch  or  two,  I  look  for't  duly. 

Sham.     I've  been   to  seek  you. 

Lap.     Let  me  know  your  Lodging,  Sir, 
I'll  come  to  you  once  a  day,  and  use  your  pleasure,  Sir. 

Sham.     I'm   made  the  fittest  man  for  thy  society: 
I'll  live  and  dye  with   thee,  come  shew  me  a  chamber  ; 
There  is  no  house   but  thine,  but  only  thine, 
That's  fit  to  cover  me  :    I've  took  a  blow,  sirrah. 

Lap.     I  would  you  had  indeed:  why,  you  may  see,  Sir; 
You'll  all  come  to't  in  time,  when  my  Book's  out. 

Sham.     Since  I  did  see  thee  last,  I've  took  a  blow. 

Lap.     Pha  Sir,  that's  nothing  :    I  ha'  took  forty  since. 

Sham.     What  ?    and  I  charg'd  thee  thou  shouldst  not  ? 

Lap.     I  Sir,  you  might  charge  your  pleasure. 
But  they  would  give't  me,  whether  I  would  or  no. 

Sham.     Oh,  I  walk  without  my  peace,  I've  no  companion 
Prethee  resolve  me,  for  I  cannot  aske  (now  ; 

A  man  more  beaten  to  experience, 
Than  thou  art  in  this  kind,  what  manner  of  blow 
Is  held  the  most  disgraceful,  or  distasteful  ? 
For  thou  dost  only  censure  'em  by  the  hurt, 
Not  by  the  shame  they  do  thee  :    yet  having  felt 
Abuses  of  all  kinds,  thou  may'st  deliver, 
Though't  be  by  chance,  the  most  injurious  one. 

Lap.     You  put  me  to't,  Sir  ;    but  to  tell  you  truth, 
They're  all  as  one  with  me,  little  exception. 

Sham.     That  little  may  do  much,  let's  have  it  from  you. 

Lap.     With  all  the  speed  I  may,  first  then,  and  foremost, 
I  hold  so  reverently  of  the  Bastinado,  Sir, 
That  if  it  were  the  dearest  friend  i'th'  world, 
I'de  put  it  into  his  hand. 

Sham.     Go  too,  I'll  pass  that  then. 

Lap.     Y'are  the  more  happy,  Sir, 
Would  I  were  past  it  too  : 

But  being  accustom'd  to't.     It  is  the  better  carried. 
Sham.     Will  you  forward  ? 
Lap.     Then  there's  your  souce,  your  wherit  and  your 

166 


Sc.  i    THE  PASSIONATE  MAD-MAN 

Tugs  on  the  hair,  your  bob  o'th'  lips,  a  whelp  on't, 
I  ne'er  could  find  much  difference  :    Now  your  thump^ 
A  thing  deriv'd  first  from  your  Hemp-beaters, 
Takes  a  mans  wind  away,  most  spitefully : 
There's  nothing  that  destroys  a  Collick  like  it, 
For't  leaves  no  wind  i'th'  body. 

Sham.     On  Sir,  on.  (on't. 

Lap.     Pray  give  me  leave,  I'm  out  of  breath  with  thinking 

Sham.     This  is  far  off  yet. 

Lap.     For  the  twinge  by  th'  nose, 
'Tis  certainly  unsightly,  so  my  [Table]   says, 
But  helps  against  the  head-ach,  wond'rous  strangely. 

Sham.     Is't  possible  ? 

Lap.      Oh  your  crushed  nostrils  slakes  your  opilation^ 
And  makes  your  pent  powers  flush  to  wholsome  sneezes. 

Sham.     I  never  thought  there  had  been  half  that  virtue 
In  a  wrung  nose  before. 

Lap.     Oh  plenitude,  Sir  : 
Now  come  we  lower  to  our  modern  Kicky 
Which  has  been  mightily  in  use  of  late, 
Since  our  young  men  drank  Coltsfoot :    and  I  grant  you, 
'Tis  a  most  scornful  wrong,  cause  the  foot  plays  it ; 
But  mark  agen,  how  we  that  take't,   requite  it 
With  the  like  scorn,  for  we  receive  it  backward  ; 
And  can  there  be  a  worse  disgrace  retorted  ? 

Sham.     And  is  this  all  ? 

Lap.     All  but  a  Lug  by  th*  eary 
Or  such  a  trifle. 

Sham.     Happy  sufferer, 
All  this  is  nothing  to  the  wrong  I  bear  : 
I  see  the  worst  disgrace,  thou  never  felt'st  yet  ; 
It  is  so  far  from  thee  tho[u]   canst  not  think  on't ; 
Nor  dare  I  let  thee  know,  it  is  so  abjecl:.  (for't 

Lap.     I  would  you  would  though,  that   I  might   prepare 
For  I  shall  ha't  at  one  time  or  another  : 
If 't  be  a  thwack,  I  make  account  of  that ; 
There's  no  new  fashion'd  swap  that  e'er  came  up  yet, 
But  I've  the  first  on  'em,  I  thank  'em  for't. 


167 


THE  NICE  VALOUR,  OR    ACT  m 

Enter  the  Lady  and  Servants. 

La.     Hast  thou  enquir'd  ? 

1  Serv.     But  can  hear  nothing,   Madam. 

Sham.     If  there  be  but  so  much  substance  in   thee 
To  make  a  shelter  for  a  man   disgrac'd, 
Hide  my  departure  from  that  glorious  woman 
That  comes  with  all  perfection  about  her  : 
So  noble,  that  I  dare  not  be  seen  of  her, 
Since  shame  took  hold  of  me  :    upon  thy  life 
No  mention  of  me. 

Lap.     I'll  cut  out  my  tongue  first, 
Before  I'll  loose  my  life,  there's  more  belongs  to't. 

Lad.     See  there's  a  Gentleman,  enquire  of  him. 

2  Ser.     For  Monsieur   Shamont,  Madam  ? 
Lad.     For  whom  else,  Sir  ? 

I  Serv.     Why,  this  fellow  dares  not  see  him. 

Lad.     How  ? 

I  Serv.     Shamont,  Madam  ? 
His  very  name's  worse  than  a  Feaver  to  him, 
And  when  he  cries,  there's  nothing  stills  him  sooner  ; 
Madam,  your  Page  of  thirteen  is  too  hard  for  him, 
'Twas  try'd  i'th'  wood-yard. 

Lad.     Alas  poor  grieved  Merit  ! 
What  is  become  of  him  ?    if  he  once  fail, 
Virtue  shall  find  small  friendship  :    farewel  then 
To  Ladies  worths,  for  any  hope  in  men, 
He  lov'd  for  goodness,  not  for  Wealth,  or  Lust, 
After  the  world's  foul  dotage,  he  ne'er  courted 
The  body,  but  the  beauty  of  the  mind, 
A  thing  which  common  courtship  never  thinks  on  : 
All  his  affeclions  were  so  sweet  and  fair, 
There  is  no  hope  for  fame  if  he  despair. 

[Exit  Lady  and  Serv. 

Enter  the  Clown.     He  kicks  Lapet. 

Lap.     Good  morrow  to  you  agen  most  heartily,  Sir, 
Cry  you  mercy,  I  heard  you  not,  I  was  somewhat  busie. 

Clow.     He  takes  it  as  familiarly,  as  an  Ave, 
Or  precious  salutation  :    I  was  sick  till  I  had  one, 

168 


Sc.  i    THE  PASSIONATE  MAD-MAN 

Because  I  am  so  us'd  to't. 

Lap.     However  you  deserve,  your  friends  and  mine,  here 
Give  you  large  commendations  i'this  Letter, 
They  say  you  will  endure  well. 

Clow.     I'de  be  loath 

To  prove  'em  Hers  :    I've  endur'd  as  much 
As  mortal  pen  and  ink  can  set  me  down  for. 

Lap.     Say  you  me  so  ? 

Clow.     I  know  and  feel  it  so,  Sir, 
I  have  it  under  Black  and  White  already; 
I  need  no  Pen  to  paint  me  out. 

Lap.     He  fits  me, 

And  hits  my  wishes  pat,  pat  :    I  was  ne'er 
In  possibility  to  be  better  mann'd, 
For  he's  half  lam['d]  already,  I  see't  plain, 
But  take  no  notice  on't,  for  fear  I  make 
The  rascal  proud,  and  dear,  to  advance  his  wages  j 
First,  let  me  grow  into  particulars  with  you  ; 
What  have  you  endured  of  worth  ?    let  me  hear. 

Clow.     Marry  Sir,  I'm  almost  beaten  blind. 

Lap.     That's  pretty  well  for  a  beginning, 
But  many  a  Mill-horse  has  endur'd  as  much. 

Clow.     Shame  o'th'  Millers  heart  for  his  unkindness  then. 

Lap.     Well  Sir,  what  then  ?  (supper. 

Clow.     I've   been  twice   thrown   down   stairs,  just   before 

Lap.     Puh,  so  have  I,  that's  nothing. 

Clow.     I  but  Sir, 
Was  yours  pray  before  supper  ? 

Lap.     There  thou  posest  me. 

Clow.     I  marry,  that's  it,  't  had  been  less  grief  to  me, 
Had  I  but  fill'd  my  belly,  and  then  tumbled, 
But  to  be  flung  down  fasting,  there's  the  dolour. 

Lap.     It  would  have  griev'd  me,  that  indeed :  proceed  Sir. 

Clo.     I  have  been  pluck'd  and  tugg'd  by  th'  hair  o'th'  head 
About  a  Gallery,  half  an  Acre  long. 

Lap.     Yes,  that's  a  good  one,  I  must  needs  confess, 
A  principal  good  one  that,  an  absolute  good  one, 
I  have  been  trode  upon,  and  spurn'd  about, 
But  never  tugg'd  by  th'  hair,  I  thank  my  fates. 

Clow.     Oh  'tis  a  spiteful  pain. 

169 


THE  NICE  VALOUR,  OR    ACT  in 

Lap.     Peace,  never  speak  on't, 
For  putting  men   in   mind  on't. 

Clow.     To  conclude, 
I'm  bursten  Sir  :    my   belly  will   hold   no  meat. 

Lap.      No  ?    that  makes  amends  for  all. 

Clow.      Unless  't  be  puddings, 
Or  such  fast  food,  any  loose  thing  beguiles  me,  I'm  ne'er  the 

Lap.     Sheeps-heads  will  stay  with   thee  ?  (better  for't. 

Clo.     Yes  Sir,  or  Chaldrons. 

Lap.     Very  well  sir  : 

Your  bursten  fellows   must  take  heed  of  surfets  : 
Strange  things  it  seems,  you  have  endur'd  ; 

Clo.     Too  true  Sir. 

Lap.     But  now  the  question   is,  what  you  will  endure 
Hereafter  in  my  service  ? 

Clo.     Anything 

That  shall  be  reason  Sir,  for  I'm  but  froth  ; 
Much  like  a  thing  new  calv'd,  or  come  more  nearer  Sir, 
Y'ave  seen  a  cluster  of  Frog-spawns  in  April^ 
E'en  such  a  starch  am  I,  as  weak  and  tender 
As  a  green  woman  yet. 

Lap.     Now  I  know  this, 
I  will  be  very  gently  angry  with  thee, 
And  kick  thee  carefully. 

Clow.     Oh  I,  sweet  Sir. 

Lap.     Peace,  when  thou  art  offer'd  well,  lest  I  begin  now. 
Your  friends  and  mine  have  writ  here  for  your  truth, 
They'll  pass  their  words  themselves,  and  I  must  meet  'em. 

Clow.     Then   have  you  all :  [Exit. 

As  for  my  honesty,  there  is  no  fear  of  that, 
For  I  have  ne'er  a  whole  bone  about  me.  [Exit. 

Musick.     Enter  the  passionate  Cosin,  rudely^  and  carelesly  appar- 
reird,  unbrac'd^  and  untruss'd.      The  Cupid  following. 

Cup.  Think  upon  love,  which  makes  all  creatures  hand- 
Seemly  for  eye-sight ;  goe  not  so  diffusedly,  (some, 
There  are  great  Ladies  purpose  Sir  to  visit  you. 

Pas.     Grand  plagues,  shut  in  my  casements,  that  the  breaths 
Of  their  Coach-mares  reek  not  into  my  nostrils  ; 
Those  beasts  are  but  a  kind  of  bawdy  fore-runners. 

170 


Sc.  i    THE  PASSIONATE  MAD-MAN 

Cup.     It  is  not  well  with  you, 
When  you  speak  ill  of  fair  Ladies. 

Pas.     Fair  mischiefs,  give  me  a  nest  of  Owls  and  take  'em; 
Happy  is  he,  say  I,  whose  window  opens 
To  a  brown  Bakers  chimney,  he  shall  be  sure  there 
To  hear  the  Bird  sometimes  after  twilight  : 
What  a  fine  thing  'tis  methinks  to  have  our  garments 
Sit  loose  upon  us  thus,  thus  carelesly, 
It  is  more  manly,  and  more  mortifying  ; 
For  we're  so  much  the  readier  for  our  shrouds  : 
For  how  ridiculous  wer't,  to  have  death  come, 
And  take  a  fellow,  pinn'd  up  like  a  Mistriss  ! 
About  his  neck  a  Ruff,  like  a  pinch'd  Lanthorn, 
Which  School-boys  make  in  winter;    and  his  doublet 
So  close  and  pent,  as  if  he  fear'd  one  prison 
Would  not  be  strong  enough,  to  keep  his  soul  in  ; 
But's  Tailor  makes  another  : 

And  trust  me  ;  (for  I  know't  when  I  lov'd  Cupid^ 
He  does  endure  much  pain,  for  the  -poor  praise 
Of  a  neat  sitting  suit. 

Cup.     One  may  be  handsome,  Sir, 
And  yet  not  pain'd,  nor  proud. 

Pas.     There  you  lie  Cupid, 
As  bad  as  Mercury:    there  is  no  handsomness, 
But  has  a  wash  of  Pride  and  Luxury, 
And  you  go  there  too  Cupid.     Away  dissembler, 
Thou  tak'st  the  deeds  part,  which  befools  us  all ; 
Thy  Arrow  heads  shoot  out  sinners  :    hence  away, 
And  after  thee  I'll  send  a  powerful  charm, 
Shall  banish  thee  for  ever. 

Cup.     Never,  never, 
I  am  too  sure  thine  own.  [Exit. 

Pas.  Sings. 

HEnce  all  you  vain  Delights, 
As  short  as  are  the  nights, 

IVherein  you  spend  your  folly, 
There's  nought  in  this  life  sweet, 
If  man  were  wise  to  see't, 

171 


THE  NICE  VALOUR,  OR    ACT  HI 

But  only  melancholly, 

Oh  sweetest  melancholly. 
Welcome  folded  Arms,   and  fixed  Eyes, 
A  sigh  that  piercing  mortifies, 
A  look  that's  fastened  to  the  ground, 
A  tongue  chain  d  up  without  a  sound. 

Fountain  heads,  and  pathless   Groves, 

Places  which  pale  passion   loves  : 

Moon-light  walks,  when  all  the  Fowls 

Are  warmly  housed,  save  Eats  and  Owls  ; 

A  mid-night  Bell,  a  parting  groan, 
These  are  the  sounds  we  feed  upon  ; 

Then  stretch  our  bones  in  a  still  gloomy  valley, 

Nothing's  so  dainty  sweet,  as  lovely  melancholly.  [Exit. 

Enter  at  another  door  Lapet,  the  Cupid'*  Brothers 
watching  his  coming. 

1  Bro.     So,  so,  the  Woodcock's  ginn'd  ; 
Keep  this  door  fast  brother. 

2  Bro.     I'll  warrant  this. 

1  Bro.     I'll  goe  incense  him  instantly; 
I  know  the  way  to't. 

2  Bro.     Will't  not  be  too  soon  think  you, 
And  make  two  fits  break  into  one  ? 

i  Bro.     Pah,  no,  no  ;    the  tail  of  his  melancholy 
Is  always  the  head  of  his  anger,  and  follows  as  close, 
As  the  Report  follows  the  powder. 

Lap.     This  is  the  appointed   place,  and   the  hour  struck, 
If  I  can  get  security  for's  truth, 
I'll  never  mind  his  honesty,  poor  worm, 
I  durst  lay  him  by  my  wife,  which   is  a  benefit 
Which  many  Masters  ha'  not  :    I  shall  ha'  no  Maid 
Now  got  with  child,  but  what  I  get  my  self, 
And  that's  no  small  felicity  :    in  most  places 
Th'are  got  by  th'  Men,  and  put  upon  the  Masters, 
Nor  shall  I   be  resisted  when  I  strike, 
For  he  can  hardly  stand  ;    these  are  great  blessings. 

Pas.     I  want  my  food,  deliver  me  a  Varlet.          [Within. 

Lap.     How  now,  from  whence  comes  that  ? 

172 


A 


Sc.  i    THE  PASSIONATE  MAD-MAN 

Pas.     I  am  allow'd  a  carkass  to  insult  on  ; 
Where's  the  villain  ? 

Lap.     He  means  not  me  I  hope. 

Pas.     My  maintenance  rascals;   my  bulk,  my  exhibition. 

\L\ap.     Bless  us  all, 
What  names  are  these  ?     Would  I  were  gone  agen. 

The  passionate  man  enters  in  fury  with  a  Truncheon. 

He  Sings. 

Curse  upon  thee  for  a  slave, 

Art  thou  here,  and  heardst  me  rave? 

Fly  not  sparkles  from  mine  eye, 

To  shew  my  indignation  nigh  ? 

Am  I  not  all  foam,  and  fire, 

With  voice  as  hoarse  as  a   Town-crier  ? 

How  my  back  opes  and  shuts  together, 

With  fury,  as  old  mens  with  weather  ! 

CouWst  thou  not  hear  my  teeth  gnash  hither  ? 

Lap.     No  truly,  Sir,  I  thought  't  had  been  a  Squirrel, 
Shaving  a  Hazel-nut. 

Pas.     Death,  Hell,  Fiends,  and  darkness. 
I  will  thrash  thy  maungy  carkass. 

Lap.     Oh  sweet  Sir. 

Pas.     There  cannot  be  too  many  tortures, 
Spent  upon  those  louzie  Quarters. 

Lap.     Hold,  oh.  [Falls  down  for  dead. 

Pas.     Thy  bones  shall  rue,  thy  bones  shall  rue. 


T 


Sings  again. 

nasty,  scurvy,  mongril  Toad, 

Mischief  on  thee  ; 

Light  upon  thee, 

All  the  plagues 

That  can  confound  thee 

Or  did  ever  raign  abroad : 
Better  a  thousand  lives  it  cost, 
Than  have  brave  anger  spilt  or  lost.  [Exit. 

Lap.     May  I  open  mine  eyes  yet,  and  safely  peep  : 

'73 


THE  NICE  VALOUR,  OR    ACT  iv 

I'll  try  a  groon  first — oh — Nay  then   he's  gone. 
There  was  no  other  policy   but  to  dy, 
He  would  ha'  made  me  else.     Ribs  are  you  sore  ? 
I   was  ne'er   beaten  to  a  tune  before. 

Enter  the  two  Brothers. 

1  Bro.      Lapet. 

Lap.     Agen  ?  [Falls  again. 

1  Bro.     Look,  look,   he's  flat  agen, 

And  stretched  out  like  a  Coarse,  a  handful  longer 

Than   he  walks,  trust  me  brother.     Why  Lapet 

I  hold  my  life  we  shall  not  get  him  speak  now  : 

Monsieur  Lapet ;    it  must  be  a  privy  token, 

If  any  thing  fetch  him,  he's  so  far  gone. 

We  come  to  pass  our  words  for  your  mans  truth. 

Lap.     Oh  Gentlemen  y'are  welcome :  I  have  been  thrash'd 

2  Bro.     How  ?    thrash'd  Sir  ?  (i*  faith. 
Lap.     Never  was  Shrove-tuesday  Bird 

So  cudgell'd,  Gentlemen. 

I  Bro.     Pray  how  ?    by  whom  Sir  ? 

Lap.     Nay,  that  I  know  not. 

i  Bro.     Not  who  did  this  wrong  ? 

Lap.     Only  a  thing  came  like  a  Walking  Song. 

i  Bro.     What  beaten  with  a  Song  ? 

Lap.     Never  more  tightly,  Gentlemen  : 
Such  crotchets  happen  now  and  then,  methinks 
He  that  endures  well,  of  all  waters  drinks.  [Exeunt. 

Attus    Quartus.     Sccena    Prima. 

Enter  Shamont's  Brother^  the  Soldier^  and  I  Gentleman. 

Sold.    "\7Es,  yes,  this  was  a  Madman,  Sir,  with  you, 
X     A  passionate  Mad-man. 

i  Gen.     Who  would  ha'  lookt  for  this,  Sir  ? 

Sold.     And   must  be  priviledg'd  :    a  pox  priviledge  him  : 
I  was  never  so  dry  beaten  since  I  was  born, 
And  by  a  litter  of  rogues,  meer  rogues,  the  whole  twenty 
Had  not  above  [nine]  elbows  amongst  'em  all  too  : 
And  the  most  part  of  those  left-handed  rascals, 


Sc.  i    THE  PASSIONATE  MAD-MAN 

The  very  vomit,  Sir,  of  Hospitals, 

Bridewels,  and  Spittle-houses  ;    such  nasty  smellers, 

That  if  they'd   been  unfurnish'd  of  Club-Truncheons, 

They  might  have  cudgelPd  me  with  their  very  stinks, 

It  was  so  strong,  and  sturdy:    and  shall  this, 

This  filthy  injury,  be  set  off  with  madness  ? 

i  Gen.     Nay,  take  your  own  blouds  counsel,  Sir,  hereafter, 
I'll  deal  no  further  in't :    if  you  remember, 
It  was  not  come  to  blows,  when  I  advis'd  you. 

Sold.     No,  but  I  ever  said,  'twould  come  to  something, 
And  'tis  upon  me,  thank  him  :    were  he  kin 
To  all  the  mighty  Emperors  upon  earth, 
He  has  not  now  in  life  three  hours  to  reckon  ; 
I  watch  but  a  free  time. 

Enter  Shamont. 

i  Gent.    Your  noble  brother,  Sir,  I'll  leave  you  now.      [Ex. 

Sham.     Soldier,  I  would  I  could  perswade  my  thoughts 
From  thinking  thee  a  brother,  as  I  can 
My  tongue  from  naming  on't  :    thou  hast  no  friend  here, 
But  fortune  and  thy  own  strength,  trust  to  them. 

[Sold.     How?    what's  the  incitement,  sir?] 

Sham.     Treachery  to  virtue  ; 
Thy  treachery,  thy  faithless  circumvention  : 
Has  Honor  so  few  daughters,  never  fewer, 
And  must  thou  aim  thy  treachery  at  the  best  ? 
The  very  front  of  virtue,  that  blest  Lady  ?  the  Dukes  Sister  ? 
Created  more  for  admirations  cause, 
Than   for  loves  ends ;    whose  excellency  sparkles 
More  in   Divinity,  than  mortal  beauty; 
And  as  much  difference  'twixt  her  mind  and  body, 
As  'twixt  this  earths  poor  centre,  and  the  Sun  : 
And  could'st  thou  be  so  injurious  to  fair  goodness, 
Once  to  attempt  to  court  her  down  to  frailty  ? 
Or  put  her  but  in  mind  that  there  is  weakness, 
Sin,  and  desire,  which  she  should  never  hear  of? 
Wretch,  thou'st  committed  worse  than  Sacriledge, 
In  the  attempting  on't,  and  ought'st  to  dye  for't. 

Sold.     I  rather  ought  to  do  my  best,  to  live,  Sir. 
Provoke  me  not ;    for  I've  a  wrong  sits  on  me, 
That  makes  me  apt  for  mischief;    [I]  shall  lose 

'75 


THE  NICE  VALOUR,  OR    ACT  iv 

All   respects  suddainly  of  friendship,  Brother-hood, 
Or  any  sound   that   way. 

Sham.      But  'ware   me   most  ; 
For  I  come  with   a  two-edg'd   injury; 
Both   my  disgrace,  and   thy  apparent   falshood, 
Which   must   [b]e  dangerous. 

Sold.     I  courted   her,   Sir ; 
Love  starve  me  with  delays,  when  I  confess  it  not. 

Sham.     There's  nothing  then   but  death 
Can   be  a  pennance  fit  for  that  confession. 

Sold.     But  far  from  any  vitious  taint. 

Sham.      Oh   Sir, 
Vice   is  a  mighty  stranger  grown   to  courtship. 

Sold.     Nay,  then  the  fury  of  my  wrong  light  on    thee. 

Enter   I    Gentleman,  and  others. 

I  Gen.     Forbear,  the  Duke's  at  hand. 
Here,  hard  at  hand,  upon  my  reputation. 

Sold.     I  must  do  something  now.  [Ex.  Sold. 

Sham.     I'll  follow  you  close  Sir. 

1  Gen.     We  must  intreat  you  must  not ;   for  the  Duke 
Desires  some  conference  with  you. 

Sham.     Let  me  go, 
As  y'are  Gentlemen. 

2  Gent.     Faith  we  dare  not  Sir. 

Sham.     Dare  ye  be  false  to  honor,  and  yet  dare  not 
Do  a  man  justice  ?    give  me  leave — 

I  Gent.     Good  sweet  Sir. 
H'as  sent  twice  for  you. 

Sham.     Is  this  brave,  or  manly? 

1  Gent.     I  prethee  be  conform'd. 
Sham.     Death — 

Enter  Duke. 

2  Gent.     Peace,  he's  come  in  troth. 

Sham.     Oh  have  you  betraid  me  to  my  shame  afresh  ? 
How  am  I  bound  to  loath  you  ! 

Duke.     Shamont,  welcome, 
I  sent  twice. 

2  Gent.     But  my  Lord,  he  never  heard  on't. 

176 


Sc.  i    THE  PASSIONATE  MAD-MAN 

Sham.     Pray  pardon  him,  for  his  falseness,  I  did  Sir, 
Both  times  ;    I'd  rather  be  found  rude,  than  faithless. 

Duke.     I  love  that  bluntness  dearly :    h'as  no  vice, 
But  is  more  manly  than  some  others  virtue, 
That  lets  it  out  only  for  shew  or  profit. 

Sham.    Will't  please  you  quit  me,  Sir,  I've  urgent  business  ? 

Duke.     Come,  you're  so  hasty  now,  I  sent  for  you 
To  a  better  end. 

Sham.     And  if  it  be  an  end, 
Better  or  worse,  I  thank  your  goodness  for't. 

Duke.     I've  ever  kept  that  bounty  in  condition, 
And  thankfulness  in  bloud,  which  well  becomes 
Both  Prince  and  Subject,  that  where  any  wrong 
Bears  my  impression,  or  the  hasty  figure 
Of  my  repented  anger,  I'm  a  Law 
Ev'n  to  my  self,  and  doom  my  self  most  striftly 
To  Justice,  and  a  noble  satisfaction  : 
So  that,  what  you,  in  tenderness  of  honor, 
Conceive  to  be  loss  to  you,  which   is  nothing 
But  curious  opinion,  I'll   restore  agen, 
Although  I  give  you  the  best  part  of  Genoa, 
And  take  to  boot  but  thanks  for  your  amends. 

Sham.     Oh  miserable  satisfaction, 
Ten  times  more  wretched  than  the  wrong  it  self ; 
Never  was  ill  better  made  good  with  worse  : 
Shall  it  be  said,  that  my  posterity 
Shall  live  the  sole  heir[es]   of  their  fathers  shame  ? 
And  raise  their  wealth  and  glory  from  my  stripes  ? 
You  have  provided  nobly,  bounteous  Sir, 
For  my  disgrace,  to  make  it  live  for  ever, 
Out-lasting  Brass  or  Marble  : 
This  is  my  fears  construction,  and  a  deep  one, 
Which  neither  argument  nor  time  can  alter  : 
Yet  I   dare  swear,  I  wrong  your  goodness  in't  Sir, 
And  the  most  fair  intent  on't,  which  I  reverence 
With  admiration,  that  in  you  a  Prince, 
Should  be  so  sweet  and  temperate  a  condition, 
To  offer  to  restore  where  you  may  ruine, 
And  do't  with  justice,  and  in  me  a  servant, 
So  harsh  a  disposition,  that  I  cannot 

B.-F.  X.  M  177 


THE  NICE  VALOUR,  OR     ACT  iv 

Forgive  where  I  should   honor,  and  am   bound  to't. 

But  I   have  ever  had  that  curiosity 

In   bloud,  and  tenderness  of  reputation 

Such  an  antipathy  against  a  blow, 

I   cannot  speak  the  rest  :    Good  Sir  discharge  me, 

It  is  not  fit  that  I  should  serve  you  more, 

Nor  come  so  near  you  ;    I'm  made  now  for  privacy, 

And  a  retir'd  condition,  that's  my  suit  : 

To  part  from  Court  for  ever,  my  last  suit ; 

And  as  you  profess  bounty,  grant  me  that  Sir. 

Duk[e\.     I  would  deny  thee  nothing. 

Sham.     Health  reward  you,  Sir.  [Exit. 

Duke.     He's  gone  agen  already,  and  takes  hold 
Of  any  opportunity :    not  riches 
Can  purchase  him,  nor  honors,  peaceably, 
And  force  were  brutish  :  what  a  great  worth's  gone  with  him, 
And  but  a  Gentleman  ?    well,  for  his  sake, 
I'll  ne'er  offend  more,  those  I  cannot  make  ; 
They  were  his  words,  and  shall  be  dear  to  memory. 
Say  I  desire  to  see  him  once  agen  ; 
Yet  stay,  he's  so  well  forward  of  his  peace, 
'Twere  pity  to  disturb  him  :    he  would  groan 
Like  a  soul  fetch 'd  agen  ;    and  that  were  injury, 
And  I've  wrong'd  his  degree  too  much  already. 
Call  forth  the  Gentlem[e]n  of  our  chamber  instantly. 

1  Serv.     I  shall  my  Lord.  [Within. 
Duke.     I  may  forget  agen, 

And  therefore  will  prevent  :    the  strain  of  this 
Troubles  me  so,  one  would  not  hazard  more. 

Enter   I  Gent,  and  divers  others. 

Gent.     Your  Will  my  Lord  ? 
Duke.     Yes  ;    I  discharge  you  all. 

2  Gent.     My  Lord — 

Duke.     Your  places  shall  be  otherwise  dispos'd  of. 

4  Gent.    Why  Sir  ? 

Duke.     Reply  not,  I  dismiss  you  all : 
Y'are  Gentlemen,  your  worths  will  find  you  fortunes ; 
Nor  shall  your  farewell  taxe  me  of  ingratitude. 

178 


Sc.  i    THE  PASSIONATE  MAD-MAN 

I'll  give  you  all  noble  remembrances, 

As  testimonies  'gainst  reproach  and  malice, 

That  you  departed  lov'd. 

3  Gen.     This  is  most  strange,  Sir. 

I  Gent.    But  how  is  your  Grace  furnish'd,  these  dismiss'd  ? 

Duke.     Seek  me  out  Grooms. 
Men  more  insensible  of  reputation, 
Less  curious  and  precise  in  terms  of  honor, 
That  if  my  anger  chance  let  fall  a  stroke, 
As  we  are  all  subject  to  impetuous  passions, 
Yet  it  may  pass  unmurmur'd,  undisputed  ; 
And  not  with  braver  fury  prosecuted.  [Exit. 

I  Gent.     It  shall  be  done,  my  Lord. 

3  Gent.     Know  you  the  cause,  Sir  ? 

i  Gent.     Not  I  kind  Gentlemen,  but  by  conjectures, 
And  so  much  shall  be  yours  when  you  please. 

4.     Thanks  Sir. 

3  Gent.    We  shall  i'th  mean  time  think  our  selves  guilty 
Of  some  foul  fault,  through  ignorance  committed. 

i  Gent.     No,  'tis  not  that,  nor  that  way. 

4  Gent.     For  my  part, 

I  shall  be  dis-inherited,  I  know  so  much. 

I  Gent.    Why  Sir,  for  what? 

4  Gent.     My  Sire's  of  a  strange  humor, 
He'll  form  faults  for  me,  and  then  swear  'em   mine, 
And  commonly  the  first  begins  with  leachery, 
He  knows  his  own  youths  trespass. 

i  Gent.     Before  you  go, 
I'll  come  and  take  my  leave,  and  tell  you  all  Sirs. 

3  Gent.     Thou  wert  ever  just  and  kind.  [Exit. 

i  Gent.     That's  my  poor  virtue,  Sir, 
And  parcel  valiant ;    but  it's  hard  to  be  perfect  : 
The  choosing  of  these  fellows  now  will  puzle  me, 
Horribly  puzle  me  ;    and  there's  no  judgement 
Goes  true  upon  mans  outside,  there's  the  mischief: 
He  must  be  touch'd,  and  try'd,  for  gold  or  dross  ; 
There  is  no  other  way  for't,  and  that's  dangerous  too ; 
But  since  I'm  put  in  trust,   [I]  will  attempt  it : 
The  Duke  shall  keep  one  daring  man  about  him. 

M  2  179 


THE  NICE  VALOUR,  OR    ACT  iv 

Enter  a   Gallant. 

Soft,  who  comes  here  ?    a  pretty   bravery  this  : 
Every  one  goes  so  like  a  Gentleman, 
'Tis  hard   to  find  a  difference,   but   by  th'  touch. 
I'll   try  your  mettal  sure. 

Gal.    Why  what  do  you  mean   Sir  ? 

I  Gent.     Nay,  and  you  understand   it  not,   I   do  not. 

Gal.     Yes,  would  you  should  well  know, 
I   understand  it  for  a  box  o'th'  ear  Sir. 

i  Gent.     And  o'my  troth,  that's  all   I  gave  it  for. 

Gal.    'Twere  best  it  be  so. 

I  Gent.     This  is  a  brave  Coward, 
A  jolly  threat'ning  Coward  ;    he  shall  be  Captain  : 
Sir,  let  me  meet  you  an  hour  hence  i'th'  Lobby. 

Gal.    Meet  you  ?  the  world  might  laugh  at  [me]  then  i'faith. 

i  Ge.    Lay  by  your  scorn  and  pride,  they're  scurvy  qualities, 
And  meet  me,  or  I'll  box  you  while  I  have  you, 
And  carry  you  gambril'd  thither  like  a  Mutton. 

Gal.     Nay,  and  you  be  in  earnest,  here's  my  hand 
I  will  not  fail  you. 

i  Gent.     'Tis  for  your  own  good. 

Gal.     Away. 

i  Gent.    Too  much  for  your  own  good,  Sir,  a  pox  on  you. 

Gal.     I   prethee  curse  me  all  day  long  so. 

I  Gent.     Hang  you.  (me  ; 

Gal.     I'll  make  him  mad :   he's  loth  to  curse  too  much  to 
Indeed  I  never  yet  took  box  o'th'  ear, 
But  it  redounded,  I   must  needs  say  so — 

I  Gent.     Will   you  be  gone  ? 

Gal.     Curse,  curse,  and  then  I  goe. 
Look  how  he  grins,  I've  anger'd  him  to  th'  kidneys.          \_Ex. 

i  Gen.  Was  ever  such  a  prigging  coxcomb  seen  ? 
One  might  have  beat  him  dumb  now  in  this  humor, 
And  he'd  ha'  grin'd  it  out  still  : 

Enter  a  plain  fellow. 

Oh,  here's  one  made  to  my  hand, 

Methinks  looks  like  a  Craven  ; 

Less  pains  will  serve  his  trial :    some  slight  justle. 

180 


Sc.  i    THE  PASSIONATE  MAD-MAN 

Plain.     How  ?   take  you  that  Sir : 
And  if  that  content  you  not — 

I  Gent.     Yes  very  well,  Sir,  I   desire  no  more. 

Plain.     I  think  you  need  not ; 
For  you  have  not  lost  by't.  [Exit. 

I  Gen.     Who  would  ha'  thought  this  would  have  prov'd  a 
I'll  never  trust  long  chins  and  little  legs  agen,         (Gentleman  ? 
I'll  know  'em  sure  for  Gentlemen  hereafter : 
A  gristle  but  in  shew,  but  gave  his  cuff 
With  such  a  fetch,  and  reach  of  gentry, 
As  if  h'  had  had  his  arms  before  the  floud  ; 
I  have  took  a  villanous  hard  taske  upon  me  ; 
Now  I  begin  to  have  a  feeling  on't. 

Enter  Lapet,  and  Clown  his  servant^  and  so  habited. 

Oh,  here  comes  a  try'd  piece,  now,  the  reformed  kick. 

The  millions  of  punches,  spurns,  and  nips 

That  he  has  endur'd  !    his  buttock's  all  black  Lead, 

He's  half  a  Negro  backward  ;    he  was  past  a  Spaniard 

In  Eighty  eight,  and  more  ^Egyptian  like  ; 

His  Table  and  his  Book  come  both  out  shortly, 

And  all  the  cowards  in  the  Town  expecl  it ; 

So,  if  I  fail  of  my  full  number  now, 

I  shall  be  sure  to  find  'em  at  Church  corners, 

Where  Dives,  and  the  suffering  Ballads  hang. 

Lap.    Well,  since  thou  art  of  so  mild  a  temper, 
Of  so  meek  a  spirit,  thou  mayst  live  with  me, 
Till  better  times  do  smile  on  thy  deserts. 
I  am  glad  I  am  got  home  again. 

Clow.     I  am  happy  in  your  service,  Sir, 
You'll  keep  me  from  the  Hospital. 

Lap.     So,  bring  me  the  last  proof,  this  is  corrected. 

Clow.     I,  y'are  too  full  of  your  correction,  Sir. 

Lap.    Look  I  have  perfect  Books  within  this  half  hour. 

Clow.     Yes  Sir. 

Lap.     Bid  him  put  all  the  Thumps  in  Pica  Roman. 
And  with  great  T's,  (you  vermin)  as  Thumps  should  be. 

Clow.     Then  in  what  Letter  will  you  have  your  Kicks  ? 

Lap.     All  in  Italica,  your  backward  blows 
All  in  Italica,  you  Hermaphrodite  : 

181 


THE  NICE  VALOUR,  OR    ACT  iv 

When  shall  I  teach   you  wit  ? 

Clow.     Oh   let  it  alone, 
Till  you   have  some  your  self,  Sir. 

Lap.     You   mumble  ? 

Clow.     The  victuals  are  lockt  up  ; 
I'm  kept   from   mumbling.  [Exit. 

Lap.     He  prints  my  blows  upon  Pot  Paper  too,  the  rogue, 
Which   had   been  proper  for  some  drunken   Pamphlet. 

i  Gent.    Monsieur  Lapet  ?  how  the  world  rings  of  you,  Sir  ! 
Your  name  sounds  far  and  near. 

Lap.     A  good  report  it  bears,  for  an  enduring  name — 

i  Gent.    What  luck  have  you  Sir  ? 

Lap.    Why,  what's  the  matter  ? 

i  Gent.     I'm   but  thinking  on't. 
I've  heard  you  wish  these  five  years  for  a  place. 
Now  there's  one  fall'n,  and  freely  without  money  too  ; 
And  empty  yet,  and  yet  you  cannot  have't. 

Lap.     No  ?    what's  the  reason  ?    I'll  give  money  for't, 
Rather  than  go  without  Sir. 

i  Gen.     That's  not  it  Sir  : 

The  troth  is,  there's  no  Gentleman  must  have  it 
Either  for  love  or  money,  'tis  decreed  so  ; 
I  was  heartily  sorry  when  I  thought  upon  you, 
Had  you  not  been  a  Gentleman,  I  had  fitted  you. 

Lap.    Who  I  a  Gentleman  ?    a  pox  I'm  none,  Sir. 

I  Gent,      How  ? 

Lap.     How  ?    why  did  you  ever  think  I  was  ? 

i  Gent.    What  ?    not  a  Gentleman  ? 

Lap.     I  would  thou'dst  put  it  upon  me  i'faith  ; 
Did  not  my  Grand-father  cry  Cony-skins  ? 
My  Father  Aquavits  ?   a  hot  Gentleman  : 
All  this  I  speak  on,  i'  your  time  and  memory  too  ; 
Only  a  rich  Uncle  dy'd,  and  left  me  chattels, 
You  know  all  this  so  well  too — 

I  Gent.     Pray  excuse  me,  Sir,  ha'  not  you  Arms  ? 

Lap.     Yes,  a  poor  couple  here, 
That  serve  to  thrust  in  wild-Fowl. 

i  Gent.     Heralds  Arms, 

Symbols  of  Gentry,  Sir  :    you  know  my  meaning  ; 
They've  been  shewn  and  seen. 

182 


Sc.  i    THE  PASSIONATE  MAD-MAN 

Lap.     They  have. 

I  Gen.     I  fex  have  they. 

Lap.  Why  I  confess,  at  my  wives  instigation  once, 
(As  Women  love  these  Heralds  kickshawes  naturally) 
I  bought  'em  :    but  what  are  they  think  you  ?    puffs. 

i  Gent.    Why,  that's  proper  to  your  name  being  Lapet. 
Which  is  La  fart,  after  the  English  Letter. 

Lap.     The  Herald,  Sir,  had  much  adoe  to  find  it. 

i  Gent.      And  can  you  blame  him  ? 
Why,  'tis  the  only  thing  that  puzles  the  devil. 

Lap.     At  last  he  lookt  upon  my  name  agen, 
And  having  well  compar'd  it,  this  he  gave  me, 
The  two  Cholliques  playing  upon  a  wind  Instrument. 

i  Gent.     An  excellent  proper  one  ;    but  I  pray  tell  me, 
How  does  he  express  the  Cholliques  ? 
They  are  hard  things. 

Lap.     The  Cholliques  ?  with  hot  trenchers  at  their  bellies ; 
There's  nothing  better,  Sir,  to  blaze  a  Chollique. 

i  Gent.     And  are  not  you  a  Gentleman  by  this  Sir  ? 

Lap.     No,  I  disclaim't  :    no  belly-ake  upon  earth 
Shall  make  me  one  :    he  shall  not  think 
To  put  his  gripes  upon  me, 
And  wring  out  gentry  so,  and  ten  pound  first. 
If  the  wind  Instrument  will  make  my  wife  one, 
Let  her  enjoy't,  for  she  was  a  Harpers  Grand-child  : 
But  Sir,  for  my  particular,  I  renounce  it. 

I  Gent.     Or  to  be  call'd  so  ? 

Lap.     I  Sir,  or  imagin'd. 

i  Gent.     None  fitter  for  the  place  :    give  me  thy  hand. 

Lap.     A  hundred  thousand  thanks,  beside  a  Bribe,  Sir. 

i  Gent.     Yo[u]   must  take  heed 
Of  thinking  toward  a  Gentleman,  now. 

Lap.     Pish,  I  am  not  mad,  I  warrant  you  :  nay,  more  Sir, 
If  one  should  twit  me  i'th'  teeth  that  I'm  a  Gentleman, 
Twit  me  their  worst,  I  am  but  one  since  Lammas^ 
That  I  can  prove,  if  they  would  see  my  heart  out. 

[i]  Gen.     Marry,  in  any  case  keep  me  that  evidence. 

Enter  Clown. 
Lap.     Here  comes  my  Servant ;    Sir,  Galoshio^ 

183 


THE  NICE  VALOUR,  OR    ACT  iv 

Has  not  his  name  for  nought,   he  will   be  trode  upon  : 
What  says  my  Printer  now  ? 

Clow.      Here's  your  last  Proof,  Sir. 
You  shall  have  perfect  Books  now  in  a  twinkling. 

Lap.     These  marks  are  ugly. 

Clow.     He  says,  Sir,  they're  proper  : 
Blows  should  have  marks,  or  else  they  are  nothing  worth. 

La.     But  why  a  Peel-crow  here  ? 

Clow.      I  told  'em  so  Sir  : 
A  scare-crow  had   been   better. 

Lap.     How  slave  ?    look  you,  Sir, 
Did  not  I  say,  this  Whlrrlt^  and  this  Bob, 
Should   be   both  Pica  Roman. 

Clow.     So  said   I,  Sir,   both   Picked  Romans, 
And  he  has  made  'em   JVelch  Bills, 
Indeed  I  know  not  what  to  make  on  'em. 

Lap.      Hay-day  ;    a  Souse,   Italica  ? 

Clow.     Yes,  that  may  hold,  Sir, 
Souse  is  a  bona  roba,  so  is  Flops  too. 

Lap.     But  why  stands  Bastinado  so  far  off  here  ?  (Sir. 

Clow.     Alas,  you  must  allow  him  room  to  lay  about  him, 

La.    Why  lies  this  Spurn  lower  than  that  Spurn,  Sir  ? 

Clow.     Marry,  this  signifies  one  kick[t]   down  stairs,  Sir, 
The  other  in  a  Gallery :    I  asked  him  all  these  questions. 

I  Gent.     Your  Books  name  ? 
Prethee  Lapet  mind  me,  you  never  told  me  yet. 

La.    Marry  but  shall  Sir:  'tis  call'd  the  Uprising  of  the  kick  ; 
And  the  downfall  of  the  Duello. 

i  Gent.     Bring  that  to  pass,  you'll  prove  a  happy  member, 
And  do  your  Countrey  service  :    your  young  blouds 
Will  thank  you  then,  why  they  see  fourscore. 

Lap.     I  hope 

To  save  my  hundred  Gentlemen  a  month  by't, 
Which  will  be  very  good  for  the  private  house. 

Clow.     Look  you,  your  Table's  finish'd,  Sir,  already. 

Lap.    Why  then  behold  my  Master-piece  :    see,  see,  Sir, 
Here's  all  your  Blows,  and  Blow-men  whatsoever  ; 
Set  in  their  lively  colours,  givers,  and  takers. 

I  Gent.     Troth  wondrous  fine,  Sir. 

Lap.     Nay,  but  mark  the  postures, 

184 


ACT  v    THE  PASSIONATE  MAD-MAN 

The  standing  of  the  takers,  I  admire  more  than  the  givers  ; 
They  stand  scornfully,  most  contumeliously,  I  like  not  them, 
Oh  here's  one  cast  into  a  comely  Figure.  Gong- 

Clow.     My  Master  means  him  there  that's  cast  down  head- 

Lap.     How  sweetly  does  this  fellow  take  his  Dowst  \ 
Stoops  like  a  Cammel,  that  Heroick  beast, 
At  a  great  load  of  Nutmegs ;    and  how  meekly 
This  other  fellow  here  receives  his   Whirrit  \ 

Clow.     Oh  Master,  here's  a  fellow  stands  most  gallantly, 
Taking  his  kick  in  private,  behind  the  hangings, 
And  raising  up  his  hips  to't.     But  oh,  Sir, 
How  daintily  this  man  lies  trampled  on  ! 
Would  I  were  in  thy  place,  what  e'er  thou  art : 
How  lovely  he  endures  it  !  (think  you  ? 

i  Gent.     But  will  not  these  things,  Sir,  be  hard  to  pra&ice, 

Lap.     Oh,  easie,  Sir  :    I'll  teach  'em  in  a  Dance. 

i  Gent.     How  ?    in  a  dance  ? 

Lap.     I'll  lose  my  new  place  else, 
What  e'er  it  be ;    I  know  not  what  'tis  yet.  (well, 

i  Gent.    And  now  you  put  me  in  mind,  I  could  employ  it 
For  your  grace,  specially :    For  the  Dukes  Cosin 
Is  by  this  time  in's  violent  fit  of  mirth, 
And  a  device  must  be  sought  out  for  suddainly, 
To  over-cloy  the  passion. 

Lap.      Say  no  more,  Sir, 

I'll  fit  you  with  my  Scholars,  new  practitioners, 
Endurers  of  the  time. 

Clow.    Whereof  I  am  one  Sir. 

i  Gent.    You  carry  it  away  smooth  ;  give  me  thy  hand,  Sir. 

[Exeunt. 

Aftus   Quintus.     Scczna  Prima. 

Enter  the  two  Brothers. 

Pas.    T   T  A,  ha,  ha.  [Within. 

JL  JL       2  Bro.    Hark,  hark,  how  loud  his  fit's  grown. 

Pas.     Ha,  ha,  ha. 

i  Bro.     Now  let  our  Sister  lose  no  time,  but  ply  it 
With  all  the  power  she  has. 

185 


THE  NICE  VALOUR,  OR     ACT  v 

2  Bro.      Her  shame  grows  big,   brother  ; 
The   Cupid's  shape  will  hardly  hold   it  longer, 
'Twould  take  up  half  an   Ell  of  China  Damask  more, 
And  all  too  little  :    it  struts  per'lously  : 
There  is  no  tampering  with  these  Cupids  longer, 
The  meer  conceit  with  Woman-kind  works  strong. 

Pas.     Ha,  ha,  ha. 

2  Bro.     The  laugh  comes  nearer  now, 
'Twere  good  we  were  not  seen  yet.  [Ex.  Bro. 

Enter  Passion,  and  Base,  his  jester. 

Pas.     Ha,  ha,  ha, 

And  was  he  bastinado'd  to  the  life  ?    ha,  ha,  ha. 
I  prethee  say,  Lord  General,  how  did  the  rascals 
Entrench  themselves  ? 

Base.     Most  deeply,  politickly,  all  in  ditches. 

Pas.     Ha,  ha,  ha. 

Bas.    'Tis  thought  he'll  ne'r  bear  Arms  [ith'J  field  agen, 
Has  much  ado  to  lift  'em  to  his  head,  Sir. 

Pas.     I  would  he  had. 

Bas.     On  either  side  round  Truncheons  plaid  so  thick, 
That  Shoulders,  Chines,  nay  Flanks  were  paid  to  th'  quick. 

Pas.    Well  said  Lord-General  :    ha,  ha,  ha. 

Bas.    But  pray  how  grew  the  difference  first  betwixt  you  ? 

Pas.    There  was  never  any,  Sir ;  there  lies  the  jest  man  ; 
Only  because  he  was  taller  than  his  brother  ; 
There's  all  my  quarrel,  to  him  ;    and  methought 
He  should  be  beaten  for't,  my  mind  so  gave  me,  Sir, 
I  could  not  sleep  for't :    Ha,  ha,  ha,  ha. 
Another  good  jest  quickly,  while  'tis  hot  now  ; 
Let  me  not  laugh  in  vain  :    ply  me,  oh  ply  me, 
As  you  will  answer't  to  my  cosin  Duke. 

Bas.     Alas,  who  has  a  good  jest  ? 

Pas.     I  fall,  I  dwindle  in't. 

Bas.    Ten  Crowns  for  a  go[o]d  jest :  ha'  you  a  good  jest,  Sir  ? 

Enter  Servant. 

Serv.     A  pretty  moral  one. 
Bas.     Let's  ha't,  what  e'er  it  be. 
Serv.     There  comes  a  Cupid 

186 


Sc.  i  THE  PASSIONATE  MAD-MAN 

Drawn  by  six  fools. 

Bas.     That's  nothing. 

Pas.     Help  it,  help  it  then. 

Bas.     I  ha'  known  six  hundred  fools  drawn  by  a  Cupid. 

Pas.     I  that,  that,  that's  the  smarter  Moral  :    ha,  ha,  ha. 
Now  I  begin  to  be  Song-ripe  methinks. 

Bas.     I'll  sing  you  a  pleasant  Air  Sir,  before  you  ebb. 

SONG. 

Pas.     Ob  bow  my  Lungs  do  tickle !    ha,  ha,  ha. 
Bas.     Oh  how  my  Lungs  do  tickle !    oh,  oh,  ho,  ho. 

Pas.  Sings. 

Set  a  sharp  Jest 

Against  my  breast, 

Then  how  my  Lungs  do  tickle ! 

As  Nightingales, 

And  things  in  Cambrick  rails, 

Sing  best  against  a  prickle, 

Ha,  ha,  ha,  ha. 
Bas.     Ho,  ho,  ho,  ho,  ha. 
Pas.     Laugh. 
Bas.     Laugh. 
Pas.     Laugh. 
Bas.     Laugh. 
Pas.      Wide. 
Bas.     Loud. 
Pas.     And  vary. 

Bas.     A  smile  is  for  a  simpering  Novice. 
Pas.      One  that  ne'er  tasted  Caveare. 
Bas.     Nor  knows  the  smack  of  dear  Anchovis. 
Pas.     Ha,  ha,  ha,  ha,  ha. 
Bas.     Ho,  ho,  ho,  ho,  ho. 
Pas.     A  gigling  waiting  wench  for  me, 
That  shews  her  teeth  how  white  they  be. 

Bas.     A  thing  not  fit  for  gravity, 
For  theirs  are  foul,  and  hardly  three. 
Pas.     Ha,  ha,  ha. 
Bas.     Ho,  ho,  ho. 

187 


THE  NICE  VALOUR,  OR     ACT  v 

Pas.      Democritus,   thou  antient  Fleerer, 
How   I  miss   thy  laugh,   and  ha1  since. 

Bas.      There  you  narnd  the  famous  Jeerer, 
That  ever  jeered  in  Rome,  or  Athens. 

Pas.     Ha,  ha,  ha. 

Bas.      Ho,  ho,  ho. 

Pas.      How  brave  lives  he  that  keeps  a  fool, 
Although  the  rate  be  deeper ! 

[B]as.      But  he  that  is  his  own  fool,  Sir, 
Does  live  a  great  deal  cheaper. 

Pas.     Sure  I  shall  burst,  burst,  quite  break,  thou  art  so  witty. 

Bas.    9Tis  rare  to  break  at  Court,  for  that  belongs  to  ttf  City. 

Pas.     Ha,  ha,  my  spleen  is  almost  worn  to  the  last  laughter. 

Bas.    Oh  keep  a  corner  for  a  friend,  a  jest  may  come  hereafter. 

Enter  Lapet  and  Clown,  and  four  other  like  fools,  dancing, 
the  Cupid  leading,  and  bearing  his  Table,  and  holding  it 
up  to  Lapet  at  every  strain,  and  atting  the  postures. 

Lap.     Twinge  all  now,  twinge  I  say. 

2  Strain. 
Souse  upon  Souse. 

3  Strain. 
Douses  single. 

4  Strain. 
Justle  sides. 

5  Strain. 
Knee  Belly. 

6  Strain. 
Kicksee  Buttock. 

7  Strain. 
La.     Downderry. 

Enter  Soldier ,  Shamont'j  brother-,    his  sword  drawn. 

Sol.     Not  angry  Law,  nor  doors  of  Brass  shall  keep  me, 

From  my  wrongs  expiation  to  thy  Bowels, 

I   return  my  disgrace  ;    and  after  turn 

My  face  to  any  death  that  can  be  sentenc'd. 

Base.    Murder,  oh  murder,  stop  the  murderer  there — 
Lap.     I  am  glad  he's  gone ;  h'as  almost  trode  my  guts  out ; 

Follow  him  who  list  for  me,  I'll  ha'  no  hand  in't. 

I 


Sc.  ii  THE  PASSIONATE  MAD-MAN 

Clo.    Oh  'twas  your  luck  and  mine  to  be  squelch'd,  Mr. 
H'as  stamp'd  my  very  Puddings  into  Pancakes. 

Cup.     Oh  brothers,  oh,  I  fear  'tis  mortal :    help,  oh  help, 
I'm  made  the  wretchedst  woman  by  this  accident. 
That  ever  love  beguil'd. 

Enter  two  Brothers. 

2  Bro.     We  are  undone  Brother, 
Our  shames  are  too  apparent  :    Away  receptacle 
Of  Luxury,  and  dishonor,  most  unfortunate, 
To  make  thy  self  but  lucky  to  thy  spoil, 
After  thy  Sexes  manner  :    lift  him  up  Brother  ; 
He  breaths  not  to  our  comfort,  he's  too  wasted 
Ever  to  cheer  us  more  :    A  Chirurgeon  speedily  ; 
Hence  ;    the  unhappiest  that  e'er  stept  aside, 
She'll  be  a  Mother,  before  she's  known  a  Bride. 

Cup.     Thou  hadst  a  most  unfortunate  conception, 
What  e'er  thou  prov'st  to  be ;    in  midst  of  mirth 
Comes  ruine,  for  a  welcome,  to  thy  birth.  [Exeunt. 

Sccena  Secunda. 

Enter  Shamont. 

Sham.     This  is  a  beautiful  life  now  ;    privacy 
The  sweetness  and  the  benefit  of  Essence  : 
I  see  there  is  no  man,   but  may  make  his  Paradice  ; 
And  it  is  nothing  but  his  love,  and  dotage 
Upon  the  worlds  foul  joyes,  that  keeps  him  out  on't : 
For  he  that  lives  retir'd  in  mind,  and  spirit, 
Is  still  in  Paradice,  and  has  his  innocence, 
Partly  allow'd  for  his  companion  too, 
As  much  as  stands  with  justice  :    here  no  eyes 
Shoot  their  sharp  pointed  scorns  upon  my  shame  ; 
They  know  no  terms  of  reputation  here, 
No  punctual  limits,  or  precise  dimensions : 
Plain  down-right  honesty  is  all  the  beauty 
And  elegancy  of  life,  found  amongst  Shepheards ; 
For  knowing  nothing  nicely,  or  desiring  it, 
Quits  many  a  vexation  from  the  mind, 
With  which  our  quainter  knowledge  does  abuse  us ; 


THE  NICE  VALOUR,  OR     ACT  v 

The  name  of  envy   is  a  stranger  here, 

That  dries  mens   blouds  abroad,   robs   Health  and   Rest, 

Why   here's  no  such   fury   thought  on  :    no,  nor  falshood, 

That  brotherly  disease,  fellow-like  devil, 

That  plays  within  our  bosom,  and  betrays  us. 

Enter   I  Gent. 

i  Gent.     Oh  are  you  here  ? 

Sham.     La  Novey  'tis  strange  to  see  thee. 

I  Gent.     I   ha*  rid  one  horse  to  death, 
To  find  you  out,  Sir. 

Sham.     I  am  not  to  be  found  of  any  man 
That  saw  my  shame,  nor  seen  long. 

i  Gent.     Good,  your  attention  : 
You  ought  to  be  seen  now,  and  found  out.  Sir, 
If  ever  you  desire  before  your  ending 
To  perform  one  good  office,  nay,  a  dear  one, 
Mans  time  can  hardly  match  it. 

Sham.     Be't  as  precious 
As  reputation  ;    if  it  come  from  Court 
I  will  not  hear  on't. 

i  Gent.     You  must  hear  of  this,  Sir. 

Sham.     Must  ? 

i  Gent.     You  shall  hear  it. 

Sham.     I  love  thee,  that  thou'lt  dye. 

I  Gent.    'Twere  nobler  in  me, 
Than  in  you  living  :    you  will  live  a  murderer, 
If  you  deny  this  office. 

Sham.     Even  to  death,  Sir. 

i  Gent.    Why  then  you'll  kill  your  brother. 

Sham.     How  ? 

i  Gent.     Your  Brother,  Sir  : 

Bear  witness  heaven,  this  man  destroys  his  Brother 
When  he  may  save  him,  his  least  breath  may  save  him  : 
Can  there  be  wilfuller  destruction  ? 
He  was  forc'd  to  take  a  most  unmanly  wrong, 
Above  the  sufFring  virtue  of  a  Soldier, 
Has  kill'd  his  injurer,  a  work  of  honor  ; 
For  which,  unless  you  save  him,  he  dies  speedily 
My  conscience  is  discharg'd,  I'm  but  a  friend, 

190 


Sc.  in   THE  PASSIONATE  MAD-MAN 

A  Brother  should  go  forward  where  I  end.  [Exit. 

Sham.     Dyes  ? 

Say  he  be  naught,  that's  nothing  to  my  goodness, 
Which  ought  to  shine  through  use,  or  else  it  loses 
The  glorious  name  'tis  known   by  :    he's  my  brother ; 
Yet  peace  is  above  bloud  :    Let  him  go  ;    I, 
But  where's  the  nobleness  of  affection  then  ? 
That  must  be  car'd  for  too,  or  I'm  imperfect, 
The  same  bloud  that  stood  up  in  wrath  against  him, 
Now  in  his  misery,  runs  all  to  pity  ; 
I'd  rather  dye  than  speak  one  syllable 
To  save  my  self,  but  living  as  I  am, 
There's  no  avoiding  on't,  the  worlds  humanity 
Experts  it  hourly  from  me  :    curse  of  fortune, 
I  took  my  leave  so  well  too  :    Let  him  dye, 
'Tis  but  a  brother  lost ;    so  pleasingly, 
And  swiftly  I  came  off,  'twere  more  than  irksomness, 
To  tread  that  path  agen  ;    and  I  shall  never 
Depart  so  handsomely  :    but  then  where's  posterity  ? 
The  consummation  of  our  house  and  name  ? 
I'm  torn  in  pieces  betwixt  love  and  shame.  [Exit. 

Sccena   Tertia. 

Enter  Lapet,  Clown,  Poultrot,   Moulbazon,  and 
others^  the  new   Court  Officers. 

Lap.     Good  morrow  fellow  Poltrot,  and  Moulbazon^ 
Good  morrow  fellows  all. 

Pol.     Monsieur  Lapet  ?  (vou' 

Lap.    Look,  I've  remembred  you,  here's  books  apiece  for 

Moul.     Oh  Sir,  we  dearly  thank  you. 

Lap.     So  you  may  : 
There's  two  impressions  gone  already,  Sirs. 

Pol.     What  no  ?    in  so  short  a  time  ? 

Lap.     'Tis  as  I  tell  you,  Sir. 
My  Kick  sells  gallantly,  I  thank  my  stars. 

Clow.     So  does  your  Table ;  you  may  thank  the  Moon  too. 

Lap.     'Tis  the  Book  sells  the  Table. 

Clow.     But  'tis  the  Bookseller 
That  has  the  money  for  'em,  I'm  sure  o'  that. 

191 


THE  NICE  VALOUR,  OR      ACT  v 

Lap.     'Twill  much  enrich   the  Company  of  Stationers, 
'Tis  thought  'twill  prove  a  lasting  benefit, 
Like  the   Wise  Masters,  and   the  Almanacks, 
The  hundred   Novels,  and  the  Book  of  Cookery, 
For  they  begin  already  to  engross  it, 
And  make  it  a  Stock-book,  thinking  indeed 
'Twill  prove  too  great  a  benefit,  and   help, 
For  one  that's  new  set  up  :    they  know  their  way, 
And  make  him  Warden,  e'r  his  beard  be  gray. 

Moul.     Is't  possible  such  virtue  should  lye  hid, 
And  in  so  little  Paper  ? 

Lap.     How  ?    why  there  was  the  Carpenter, 
An  unknown  thing ;    an  odoriferous  Pamphlet, 
Yet  no  more  Paper,  by  all  computation, 
Than  Ajax   Telamon  would  use  at  once, 
Your  Herring  prov'd  the  like,  able  to  buy 
Another  Fishers  Folly,  and  your  Pasqull 
Went  not  below  the  mad-caps  of  that  time, 
And  shall  my  elaborate  Kick  come  behind,  think  you  ? 

Clow.     Yes,  it  must  come  behind,  'tis  in   Italica  too, 
According  to  your  humor. 

Lap.     Not  in  sale,  Varlet. 

Clow.     In  sale,  Sir  ?    it  shall  sail  beyond  'em  all  I  tro. 

Lap.     What  have  you  there  now  ?    oh  Page  2 1 . 

Clow.     That    Page  is  come  to  his  years,  he  should  be  a 

Lap.    Mark  how  I  snap  up  the  Duello  there:   (Serving  man. 
One  would  not  use  a  dog  so, 
I   must  needs  say  ;    but's  for  the  common  good. 

Clow.     Nay  Sir,  your  Commons  seldom  fight  at  sharp, 
But  buffet  in  a  Warehouse. 

Lap.     This  will  save 

Many  a  Gentleman  of  good  bloud  from  bleeding,  Sirs, 
I  have  a  curse  from  many  a  Barber-Surgeon  ; 
They'd  give  but  too  much  money  to  call't  in  ; 
Turn  to  Page  45.  see  what  you  find  there. 

Clow.     Oh,  out  upon  him, 
Page  45.  that's  an  old  thief  indeed. 

Enter  Duke,  the  Lady  his  Sister,   I  Gent. 
Lap.    The  Duke,  clap  down  your.  Books  ;   away  Galoshio. 
192 


Sc.  in   THE  PASSIONATE  MAD-MAN 

Clow.     Indeed  I  am  too  foul  to  be  i'  th'  presence, 
They  use  to  shake  me  off  at  the  chamber  door  still.      [Ex. 

Lady.     Good  my  Lord,  grant  my  suit :    let  me  not  rise 
Without  the  comfort  on't :    I  have  not  often 
Been  tedious  in  this  kind. 

Duke.     Sister,  you  wrong  your  self, 
And  those  great  virtues  that  your  Fame  is  made  of, 
To  waste  so  much  breath  for  a  murderers  life. 

Lad.     You  cannot  hate  th'  offence  more  than  I  do,  Sir, 
Nor  the  offender,  the  respecl  I  owe 
Unto  his  absent  brother,  makes  me  a  suitor, 
A  most  importunate  Sister,  make  me  worthy 
But  of  this  one  request. 

Duke.     I  am  deaf 
To  any  importunacy,  and  sorry 
For  your  forgetfulness  ;    you  never  injur'd 
Your  worth  so  much,  you  ought  to  be  rebuk'd  for't : 
Pursue  good  ways,  end  as  you  did  begin, 
'Tis  half  the  guilt  to  speak  for  such  a  sin. 

La.     This  is  loves  beggery  right,  that  now  is  ours, 
When  Ladies  love,  and  cannot  shew  their  powers.          [Ex. 

Du.     La  Nove  ? 

I  Gent.     My  Lord. 

Duke.     Are  these  our  new  Attendants  ? 

Lap.     We  are  my  Lord,  and  will  endure  as  much 
As  better  men,  my  Lord,  and  more  I  trust. 

Duke.     What's  he  ? 

I  Gent.     My  Lord,  a  decay'd  Gentleman, 
That  will  do  any  service. 

Duke.     A  decay'd  one  ? 

i  Gent.     A  renounc'd  one  indeed  :    for  this  place  only. 

Duke.    We  renounce  him  then  ;  go,  discharge  him  instantly. 
He  that  disclaims  his  gentry  for  meer  gains, 
That  man's  too  base  to  make  a  vassal  on. 

Lap.     What  says  the  Duke  ? 

i  [Gent.]     Faith  little  to  your  comfort,  Sir, 
You  must   be  a  Gentleman  agen. 

Lap.     How  ? 

i  Gent.     There's  no  remedy. 

Lap.     Marry,  the  fates  forefend  :  ne'r  while  I  breathe,  Sir. 

B.-F.  X.  N  193 


THE  NICE  VALOUR,  OR      ACT  v 

I  Gent.     The   Duke  will   have  it  so,  there's  no  resisting, 
He  spy'd  it  i'  your  forehead. 

Lap.     My  wife's  doing. 

She  thought  she  should  be  put   below  her  betters  now, 
And  su'd  to  ha'  me  a  Gentleman  agen. 

i  Gent.     And  very  likely,  Sir, 

Marry,  I'll  give  you  this  comfort  when  all's  done, 
You'll  never  pass  but  for  a  scurvy  one, 
That's  all  the  help  you  have  :    come  shew  your  pace. 

Lap.     The  heaviest  Gentleman   that  e'er  lost  place  ; 
Bear  witness,  I  am  forc'd  to't.  [Exit. 

Duke.     Though  you  have  a  courser  Title  yet  upon  you, 
Than  those  that  left  your  places,  without  blame, 
'Tis  in  your  power  to  make  your  selves  the  same  : 
I  cannot  make  you  Gentlemen,  that's  a  work 
Rais'd   from  your  own  deservings,  merit,   manners, 
And  in-born  virtue  does  it.      Let  your  own  goodness 
Make  you  so  great,  my  power  shall  make  you  greater  ; 
And  more  t'encourage  you,  this  I  add  agen, 
There's  many  Grooms,  now  exacl:  Gentlemen. 

Enter  Shamont. 

Sham.     Methinks  'tis  strange  to  me  to  enter  here  : 
Is  there  in  nature  such  an  awful  power, 
To  force  me  to  this  place  ?    and  make  me  do  this  ? 
Is  mans  affection  stronger  than  his  Will  ? 
His  resolution  ?    was  I  not  resolv'd 
Never  to  see  this  place  more  ?     Do  I  bear 
Within  my   breast  one  bloud  that  confounds  th'  other  ? 
The  bloud  of  Love,  and  Will,  and  the  last  weakest  ? 
Had  I  ten  Millions,  I  would  give  it  all  now, 
I  were  but  past  it,  or  'twould  never  come  ; 
For  I  shall  never  do't,  or  not  do't  well, 
But  spoil  it  utterly  betwixt  two  passions, 
Yonder's  the  Duke  himself,  I  will  not  do't  now, 
Had  twenty  lives  their  several  sufferings  in  him.  [Exit. 

Duke.     Who's  that  went  out  now  ? 

Pol.     I  saw  none  my  Lord. 

Duke.     Nor  you  ? 

Afoul.     I  saw  the  glimpse  of  one  my  Lord. 

194 


Sc.  in   THE  PASSIONATE  MAD-MAN 

Duke.    What  e'er  it  was,  methought  it  pleas' d  me  strangely 
And  suddenly  my  joy  was  ready  for't. 
Did  you  not  mark  it  better  ? 

Pol.  &  Moul.     Troth  my  Lord, 
We  gave  no  great  heed  to't. 

Enter  Shamont. 

Sham.     'Twill  not  be  answer'd, 
It  brings  me  hither  still  ;    by  main  force  hither  : 
Either  I  must  give  over  to  profess  humanity, 
Or  I  must  speak  for  him. 

Duke.     'Tis  here  agen  : 
No  marvel  'twas  so  pleasing,  'tis  delight 
And  worth  it  self,  now  it  appears  unclouded. 

Sham.     My  Lord — 

He  turns  away  from  me  :    by  this  hand 
I  am  ill-us'd  of  all  sides  :    'tis  a  fault 
That  fortune  ever  had  t'abuse  a  goodness. 

Duke.     Methought  you  were  saying  somewhat. 

Sham.     Mark  the  Language, 
As  coy  as  fate  ;    I  see  'twill  ne'er  be  granted. 

Duke.     We  little  look'd  in  troth  to  see  you  here  yet. 

Sham.    Not  till  the  day  after  my  brother's  death,  I  think. 

Duke.     Sure  some  great  business  drew  you. 

Sham.     No  insooth,  Sir, 
Only  to  come  to  see  a  brother  dye,  Sir, 
That  I  may  learn  to  go  too  ;    and  if  he  deceive  me  not, 
I  think  he  will  do  well  in't  of  a  soldier, 
Manly,  and  honestly  :    and  if  he  weep  then, 
I  shall  not  think  the  worse  on's  manhood  for't, 
Because  he's  leaving  of  that  part  that  has  it. 

Duke.     Has  slain  a  noble  Gentleman,  think  on't,  Sir. 

Sham.     I  would  I   could  not,  Sir. 

Duke.     Our  kinsman  too. 

Sham.     All  this  is  but  worse,  Sir. 

Duke.     When  'tis  at  worst, 
Yet  seeing  thee,  he  lives. 

Sham.     My  Lord — 

J 

Duke.     He  lives, 
Believe  it  as  thy  bliss,  he  dies  not  for't : 

N  2  195 


THE  NICE  VALOUR,  OR      ACT  v 

Will   this  make  satisfaction   for   things  past  ? 

Sham.     Oh   my   Lord- 

Duke.     Will   it  ?    speak. 

Sham.     With   greater  shame   to  my   unworthiness. 

Duke.      Rise  then,   we're  even  :    I   never  found   it   harder 
To  keep  just   with   a  man  :    my  great   work's  ended. 
I  knew  your  brother's  pardon   was  your  suit,  Sir. 
How  ever  your  nice  modesty  held   it   back. 

Sham.      I   take  a  joy  now,   to  confess   it,  Sir. 

Enter   I   Gent. 

I  Gent.     My  Lord — 

Duke.      Hear  me  first,  Sir,  what  e'er  your  news   be  : 
Set  free  the  Soldier  instantly. 

i  Gent.     'Tis  done,  my  Lord. 

Duke.     How  ? 

I  Gent.     In  effedT:  :    'twas  part  of  my  news  too, 
There's  fair  hope  of  your  noble  kinsman's  life,  Sir. 

Duke.      What  sayst  thou  ? 

I  Gent.     And  the  most  admired  change 
That  living  flesh  e'r  had  ;    he's  not  the  man   my  Lord  ; 
Death  cannot  be  more  free  from  passions,  Sir, 
Than  he  is  at  this  instant  :    he's  so  meek  now, 
He  makes  those  seem  passionate,  was  never  thought  of: 
And  for  he  fears  his  moods  have  oft  disturb'd  youv  Sir, 
He's  only  hasty  now  for  his  forgiveness, 
And  here  behold  him,  Sir. 

Enter  Passion,  the  Cupid,  and  two  Brothers. 

Duke.     Let  me  give  thanks  first :    our  worthy   Cosin — 

Pas.      Your  unworthy  trouble,  Sir  ; 
For  which,  with  all  acknowledg'd  reverence, 

ask  your  pardon  ;    and  for  injury 
More  known  and  wilful,  I   have  chose  a  wife, 
Without  your  counsel,  or  consent,  my  Lord. 

Duke.     A  wife  ?    where  is  she,  Sir  ? 

Pas.     This  noble  Gentlewoman. 

Duke.     How  ? 

Pas.     Whose  honor  my  forgetful  times  much  wrong'd. 

Duke.     He's  madder  than  he  was. 

196 


Sc.  in  THE  PASSIONATE  MAD-MAN 

I  Gent.     I  would  ha'  sworn  for  him. 
Duke.     The  Cupid,  Cosin  ? 
Pas.     Yes,  this  worthy  Lady,  Sir. 
Duke.     Still  worse  and  worse. 

1  Bro.     Our  Sister  under  pardon,  my  Lord. 
Duke.     What  ? 

2  Bro.     Which  shape  Love  taught  her  to  assume. 
Duke.     Is't  truth  then  ?  (Lord. 
i  Gent.      It   appears    plainly  now,   below   the   waste,   my 
Duke.     Shamont,  didst  ever  read  of  a  She-Cupid  i 
Sham.     Never  in  fiction  yet :    but  it  might  hold,  Sir ; 

For  desire  is  of  both  Genders. 

Enter  the  Dukes  Sister. 

Duke.     Make  that  good  here  :      (He  joyns  Shamont's  hand 
I  take  thee  at  thy  word,  Sir.  (     and  his  Sisters. 

Sham.     Oh  my  Lord, 

Love  would  appear  too  bold,  and  rude  from  me, 
Honour  and  admiration  are  her  rights, 
Her  goodness  is  my  Saint,  my  Lord. 

Duke.     I  see, 

Y'are  both  too  modest  to  bestow  your  selves  : 
I'll  save  that  virtue  still,  'tis  but  my  pains :    come, 
It  shall  be  so. 

Sham.     This  gift  does  but  set  forth  my  poverty. 

La.     Sir,  that  which  you  complain  of,  is  my  riches. 

Enter  Shamont'j  brother  the  Soldier. 

Duke.    Soldier,  now  every  noise  sounds  peace,  th'art  welcome. 

Sol.     Sir,  my  repentance  sues  for  your  blest  favour, 
Which  once  obtain'd,  no  injury  shall  lose  it ; 
I'll  suffer  mightier  wrongs. 

Duke.     Rise,  lov'd  and  pardon'd  : 
For  where  Hope  fail'd,  nay  Art  it  self  resign'd, 
Thou'st  wrought  that  cure,  which  skill  could  never  find  ; 
Nor  did  there  cease,  but  to  our  peace  extend ; 
Never  could  wrongs  boast  of  a  nobler  end.  [Exeunt. 


197 


THE  NICE  VALOUR          ACT  v 


EPILOGUE. 

OUr  Poet  bid  us  say  for  his  own  part, 
He  cannot  lay  too   much  forth  of  his   Art  : 
But  fears  our  over-acting  passions   may, 
As  not  adorn,  deface  his   laboured  Play, 
Yet  still  he's   resolute,  for  what  is  writ 
Of  Nicer  valour,  and  assumes  the  wit  : 
But  for  the  Love-Scenes  which  he  ever  meant, 
Cupid  ins  Peticoat  should  represent, 
He'll  stand  no  shock  of  censure  ;    the  Play's  good, 
He  says  he  knows  it,  (if  well  understood.] 

But  we  (blind  god]   beg,   if  thou   art  Divine. 

Thou  It  shoot  thy  Arrows  round,  this  Play  was  thine. 


Mr.  Francis  Beaumont s  Letter  to  Ben.  "Johnson, 
written  before  he  and  Mr.  Fletcher  came  to 
London,  with  two  of  the  precedent  Comedies 
then  not  finish'd,  which  deferred  their  merry 
meetings  at  the  Mermaid. 

e  Sun  which  doth  the  greatest  comfort  bring 
70  absent  friends,  because  the  self-same  thing 
They  know  they  see  however  absent,  is, 
Here  our  best  Hay-make\r\  forgive  me  this, 
It  is  our  Countreys  stile.      In  this  warm  shine, 
I  ![y]e  and  dream  of  your  full  Mermaid  Wine. 
Oh  we  have  water  mixt  with   Claret  Lees, 
Drink  apt  to  bring  in  dryer  Heresies 
T'han  Beer,  good  only  for  the  Sonnets  strain, 
With  fustian  Metaphors  to  stuff  the  brain, 
So  mixt,  that  given  to  the  thirstiest  one, 
'  Twill  not  prove  Alms,  unless  he  have  the  stone : 
I  think  with  one  draught  mans  invention  fades, 
'Two   Cups  had  quite  spoiled  Homers  I  Iliads  ; 
"Tis  Liquor  that  will  find  out  SutclifFs  wit, 
Lye  where  he  will,  and  make  him  write  worse  yet ; 
Fil'd  with  such  moisture  in  most  grievous  qualms ; 
Did  Rob[ert]  Wisdom  write  his  Singing  Psalms ; 
And  so  must  I  do  this,  and  yet  I  think 
It  is  a  potion  sent  us  down  to  drink, 
By  special  Providence  keeps  us  from  fights, 
Makes  us  not  laugh,  when  we  make  legs  to  knights. 
'  "Tis  this  that  keeps  our  minds  Jit  for  our  States, 
A  Medicine  to  obey  our  Magistrates: 

199 


For  we  do  live  more  free  than  you,  no  hate, 

No  envy  at  one  anothers  [happy]  State 

Moves  us,   we  are  all  equal  every  whit: 

Of  Land  that  God  gives  men  here  is  their  wit  : 

If  we  consider  fully,  for  our  best, 

And  gravest  men  will  with  his  main  house  jest, 

Scarce  please  you  ;    we  want  subtilty  to  do 

The   City  tricks,  lye,  hate,  and  flatter  too: 

Here  are  none  that  can  bear  a  painted  show, 

Strike  when  you  winch,  and  then  lament  the  blow: 

Who  like  Mills  set  the  right  way  for  to  grind, 

Can  make  their  gains  alike  with  every  wind: 

Only  some  fellows  with  the  subtil '  st  pate 

Amongst  us,  may  perchance  equivocate 

At  selling  of  a  Horse,  and  that's  the  most. 

Methinks  the  little  wit  I  had  is  lost 

Since  I  saw  you,  for  Wit  is  like  a  Rest 

Held  up  at  Tennis,  which  men  do  the  best, 

With  the  best  gamesters :  what  things  have  we  seen, 

Done  at  the  Mermaid  /  heard  words  that  have  been 

So  nimble,  and  so  full  of  subtil  flame, 

As  if  that  every  one  from  whence  they  came, 

Had  meant  to  put  his  whole  wit  in  a  jest, 

And  had  resolvd  to  live  a  fool,  the  rest 

Of  his  dull  life ;    then  when  there  hath  been  thrown 

Wit  able  enough  to  justifte  the  'Town 

For  three  days  past,  wit  that  might  warrant  be 

For  the  whole   City  to  talk  foolishly 

*Till  that  were  cancelled,  and  when  that  was  gone, 

We  left  an  Air  behind  us,  which  alone, 

Was  able  to  make  the  two  next  Companies 

200 


Right  witty  ;   though  but  downright  fools,  more  wise. 

When  I  remember  this,  and  see  that  now 

The   Countrey   Gentlemen  begin  to  allow 

My  wit  for  dry  bobs,  then  I  needs  must  cry, 

I  see  my  days  of  Ballating  grow  nigh  ; 

/  can  already  Riddle,  and  can  Sing 

\Ga~\tches,  sell  bargains,  and  I  fear  shall  bring 

My  self  to  speak  the  hardest  words  I  Jind, 

Over,  as  oft  as  any,  with  one  wind, 

That  takes  no  medicines:    But  one  thought  of  thee 

Makes  me  remember  all  these  things  to  be 

The  wit  of  our  young  men,  fellows  that  show 

No  part  of  good,  yet  utter  all  they  know: 

Who  like  trees  of  the   Guard,  have  growing  souls. 

Only  strong  destiny,  which  all  controuls, 

I  hope  hath  left  a  better  fate  in  store, 

For  me  thy  friend,  than  to  live  ever  poor, 

Banisht  unto  this  home ;  fate  once  again 

Bring  me  to  thee,  who  canst  make  smooth  and  plain 

The  way  of  Knowledge  for  me,  and  then  I, 

Who  have  no  good  but  in  thy  company, 

Protest  it  will  my  greatest  comfort  be 

To  acknowledge  all  I  have  to  flow  from  thee. 

Ben.    when   these   Scasnes   are  perfect,    we'll   taste 

wine  ; 
/'//  drink  thy  Muses  health,  thou  shalt  quaff  mine. 


201 


The   Honest   Man's 
Fortune. 

A   TRAGI-COMEDY. 


The  Persons  represented  in  the  Play. 


Duke    of  Orleans,   a   spleenful   de- 
trafling  Lord. 

'Brother-in-law  to  Orleans, 
a      noble       accomplish'^ 
Gentleman,    servant    to 
Lamira. 
Mountague,  an  honest  Lord. 
Du-boys,       )  Two  faithful  followers 
Longueville,)       of  Mountague. 


Earl  of 
Amiens, 


Voramer,  the  loving  and  loyal  Page 

of  Mountague. 

La  Verdine,  a  knavish  Courtier. 
La  Poop,  a  foisting  Captain. 
Mallicorn,  a  sharking  Citizen. 
Two  Lawyers. 
Two  Creditors. 
Officers. 
Servants. 


WOMEN. 


^     ,  r  (a  virtuous   Lady,    and  |    Lamira,    a    modest    Virgin,    and    a 


Orleans, 


chaste,  (but  suspefted] 
vuife  to  the  Duke. 


Lady,  rich  and  noble. 
Charlotte,  Lamira's  Woman. 


The  Scene  France. 


The  Principal  Adlors  were 


Nathan 

Rob.  Benfield) 

Emanuel  Read, 


Joseph   Taylor, 
Will.  Eglestone, 
Thomas  Basse. 


202 


ACT  i  THE  HONEST  MAN'S  FORTUNE 


Aftus  Primus.     Scana  Prima. 

Enter  the  Duke  of  Orleance,  and  the  Earl  of  Amiens, 

at  several  doors. 

A  mien*. 

MOrrow,  my  Lord  of  Orleans. 
Orl.     You  salute  me  like  a  stranger  ;  brother  Orleance 
were  to  me  a  Title  more  belonging,  whom  you  call  the  Husband 
of  your  Sister. 

Ami.  Would  the  circumstances  of  your  brotherhood  had 
never  offer'd  cause  to  make  our  conversation  less  familiar :  I 
meet  you  like  a  hindrance  in  your  way  :  your  great  Law- 
suit is  now  upon  the  tongue,  and  ready  for  a  judgement. 

Orl.     Came  you  from  the  Hall  now  ? 

Ami.  Without  stay  ;  the  Court  is  full,  and  such  a  press 
of  people  does  attend  the  issue,  as  if  some  great  man  were 
brought  to  his  arraignment. 

Orl.  Every  mothers  son  of  all  that  multitude  of  hearers, 
went  to  be  a  witness  of  the  misery  your  Sisters  fortunes  must 
have  come  to,  if  my  adversary  who  did  love  her  first,  had 
been  her  Husband. 

Ami.  The  success  may  draw  a  testimony  from  them,  to 
confirm  the  same  opinion,  but  they  went  prepared  with  no 
such  hope  or  purpose. 

Orl.  And  did  you  intreat  the  number  of  them,  that  are 
come  with  no  such  hope  or  purpose. 

Ami.  Tush,  your  own  experience  of  my  heart  can  answer 
ye. 

Orl.  This  doubtful,  makes  me  clearly  understand  your 
disposition. 

Ami.     If  your  cause  be  just, 
I  wish  you  a  conclusion  like  your  cause. 

Orl.     I  can  have  any  common  charity  to  such  a  Prayer 
From  a  friend  I  would  expedt  a  love  to  prosper  in  ; 
Without  exceptions  such  a  love  as  might 
Make  all  my  undertakings  thankful  to't ; 
Precisely  just  is  seldom  faithful  in  our  wishes 
To  another  mans  desires  :    Farewel.  [Exit  Orl. 

203 


THE  HONEST  MAN'S  FORTUNE   ACT  i 

Enter  Montague  having  a   Purse,   Duboys,   Longueville, 
and  Voramcr   the  Page,   with   two   Caskets. 

Dub.     Here  comes  your  adversaria's  brother-in-law. 

Long.      The   Lord   of  Amiens. 

Dub.      From  the   Hall   I  think. 

Ami.     I  did  so  :    save  your  Lordship.  (state, 

Mount.     That's  a  wish  my  Lord,  as  courteous  to  my  present 
As  ever  honest  mind  was  thankful  for  ; 
For  now  my  safety  must  expose   it  self 
To  question  :    yet  to  look  for  any  free 
Or  hearty  salutation  (Sir)   from  you 
Would   be  unreasonable  in  me. 

Ami.     Why  ? 

Mont.     Your  Sister  is  my  adversarie's  wife  ; 
That  nearness  needs  must  consequently  draw 
Your  inclination   to  him. 

Ami.     I  will  grant 

Him  all  the  nearness  his  alliance  claims, 
And  yet  be  nothing  less  impartial, 
My  Lord  of  Montague. 

Mont.   Lord  of  Montague  yet  : 
But  (Sir)  how  long  the  dignity  or  state 
Belonging  to  it  will  continue,  stands 
Upon   [t]he  dangerous  passage  of  this  hour. 
Either  for  evermore  to  be  confirmed, 
Or  like  the  time  wherein  'twas  pleaded,  gone  : 
Gone  with  it,  never  to  be  call'd  again. 

Ami.     Justice  dire6t  your  process  to  the  end  ; 
To  both  your  persons  my  respecl:  shall  still 
Be  equal  ;    but  the  righteous  cause  is  that 
Which  bears  my  wishes  to  the  side  it  holds, 
Where,  ever  may  it  prosper.  [Exit  Amiens. 

Mont.     Then  my  thanks 
Are  proper  to  you,  if  a  man  may  raise 
A  confidence  upon  a  lawful  ground 
I   have  no  reason  to  be  once  perplex'd 
With  any  doubtful  motion,  Longue\v\dle, 
That  Lord  of  Amiens,  (didst  observe  him  ?)  has 
A  worthy  nature  in  him. 

204 


Sc.  i  THE  HONEST  MAN'S  FORTUNE 

Long.     Either  'tis  his  nature  or  his  cunning. 

Mont.     That's  the  vizard  of  most  mens  actions, 
Whose  dissembled  lives 
Do  carry  only  the  similitude 
Of  goodness  on  'em  :    but  for  him 
Honest  [bjehaviour  makes  a  true  report, 
What  disposition  does  inhabit  him, 
Essential  virtue. 

Long.     Then  'tis  pity  that 
Injurious  Orleans  is  his  brother. 

Dub.     He  is  but  his  brother-in-law. 

Long.     Law  ?    that's  as  bad. 

Dub.     How  is  your  Law  as  bad  ?     I  rather  wish 
The  hangman  thy  Executor  than  that 
Equivocation  should  be  ominous. 

Enter  two  Lawyers^  and.  two  Creditors. 

Long.     Some  of  your  Lawyers — 

1  Law.     What  is  ominous  ? 

2  Law.     Let  no  distrust  trouble  your  Lordships  thought. 

1  Law.     The  evidences  of  your  question'd  Land 
Ha'  not  so  much  as  any  literal 

Advantage  in  'em  to  be  made  against 
Your  Title. 

2  Law.     And  your  Council  understands 
The  business  fully. 

1  Law.     Th'are  industrious,  just. 

2  Law.     And  very  confident. 

1  Law.     Your  state  endures 
A  voluntary  trial  ;    like  a  man 
Whose  honors  are  maliciously  accus'd. 

2  Law.     The  accusation  serves  to  clear  his  cause. 

1  Law.     And  to  approve  his  truth  more. 

2  Law.     So  shall  all 

Your  adversarie's  pleadings  strengthen  your 
Possession. 

1  Law .     And  be  set  upon  record 
To  witness  the  hereditary  right 

Of  you  and  yours. 

2  Law .     Courage,  you  have  the  law. 

205 


THE  HONEST  MAN'S  FORTUNE  ACT  i 

Long.     And  you  the  profits. 

Mont.      If  discouragement 
Could  work  upon   me,  your  assurances 
Would  put   me  strongly   into  heart  again  ; 
But  I  was  never  fearful  :    and   let  fate 
Deceive  my  expectation,  yet  I  am 
Prepared  against  dejection. 

1  Cre.     So  are  we. 

2  Cre.     We  have  received  a  comfortable  hope 
That  all  will  speed  well. 

Long.      What  is  he  Duboys  ? 

Dub.     A  Creditor. 

Long.     I  thought  so,  for  he  speaks 
As  if  he  were  a  partner  in  his  state. 

Mont.     Sir,  I  am  largely   indebted  to  your  loves. 

Long.     More  to  their  purses. 

M[o]nt.     Which  you  shall  not  lose. 

i  Cred.     Your  Lordship. 

Dub.     That's  another  creditor. 

i  Cred.     Has  interest  in  me. 

Long.     You  have  more  of  him. 

i  Cred.     And  I  have  had  so  many  promises 
From  these,  and  all  your  learned  Counsellors  ; 
How  certainly  your  cause  will  prosper  :    that — 

Long.     You  brought  no  Serjeants  with  you  ? 

Dub.     To  attend  his  ill  success. 

Mont.     Good  Sir,  I   will  not  be 
Unthankful  either  to  their  industries 
Or  your  affections. 

i  Law .     All  your  Land  (my  Lord) 
Is  at  the  barr  now,  give  me  but  ten  Crowns 
I'll  save  you  harmless. 

Long.     Take  him  at  his  word  ; 
If  he  does  lose,  you're  sav'd  by  miracle, 
For  I  never  knew  a  Lawyer  yet  undone. 

i  Law.     Then  now  you  shall,  Sir,  if  this  prospers  not. 

Long.     Sir,  I  beseech  you  do  not  force  your  voice 
To  such  a  loudness,   but  be  thrifty  now  ; 
Preserve  it  till  you  come  to  plead  at  bar 
It  will  be  much  more  profitable  in 

206 


Sc.  i   THE  HONEST  MAN'S  FORTUNE 

The  satisfaction  than  the  promise. 

i  Law.     Is  not  this  a  satisfaction  to  engage 
My  self  for  this  assurance,  if  he — 

Mont.     No  Sir,  my  ruin  never  shall  import 
Anothers  loss,  if  not  by  accident, 
And  that  my  purpose  is  not  guilty  of: 

You   [are]  engag'd  in  nothing  but  your  care.          [Ex.  Law. 
Attend  the  Procurator  to  the   Court, 
Observe  how  things  incline,  and   bring  me  word. 

Long.     I   dare  not,  Sir,  if  I  be  taken  there, 
Mine  ears  will  be  in  danger. 

Mont.     Why  ?    hast  thou 
Committed  something  that  deserves  thine  ears  ? 

Long.     No,  but  I  fear  the  noise  ;    my  hearing  will  be 
Perished  by  the  noise  ;    'tis  as  good  't  want 
[A  member,  as  to  loose  the  use — ] 

Mont.     The  ornament  is  excepted. 

Long.     Well  my  Lord 
I'll  put  'em  to  the  hazard.  [Exit  Long. 

1  Cred.     Your  desires  be  prosperous  to  you. 

2  Cred.     Our  best  Prayers  wait 

Upon  your  fortune.  [Exeunt  Cred. 

Dub.     For  your  selves,  not  him. 

Mont.    Thou  canst  not  blame  'em  :    I  am  in  their  debts. 

Ver.     But  had  your  large  expence  (a  part  whereof 
You  owe  'em)  for  unprofitable  Silks 
And  Laces,  been  bestowed  among  the  poor, 
That  would  have  prayed  the  right  way   for  you  : 
Not  upon  you. 

Mont.     For  unprofitable  Silks 
And  Laces  ?    now  believe  me  honest  boy 
Th'ast  hit  upon  a  reprehension  that   belongs 
Unto  me. 

Ver.     By  my  Lord, 

I  had  not  so  unmannerly  a  thought, 
To  reprehend  you. 

Mont.     Why  I  love  thee  for't. 
Mine  own  acknowledgement  confirms  thy  words  : 
For  once  I  do  remember,  comming  from 

207 


THE  HONEST  MAN'S  FORTUNE  ACT  i 

The  Mercers,  where  my   Purse  had  spent   it  self 

On  those  unprofitable  toys  thou  speak'st  of, 

A   man   half  naked  with   his  poverty 

Did  meet  me,  and   requested   my  relief: 

I   wanted  whence  to  give  it,  yet  his  eyes 

Spoke  for  him,  those  I  could  have  satisfied 

With  some  unfruitful  sorrow,  (if  my  tears 

Would  not  have  added  rather  to  his  grief, 

Than  eas'd  it)   but  the  true  compassion  that 

I  should  have  given  I  had   not  :    this  began 

To  make  me  think  how  many  such  mens  wants 

The  vain  superfluous  cost  I  wore  upon 

My  outside  would  have  clothed,  and  left  my  self 

A   habit  as  becomming  :    to  increase 

This  new  consideration  there  came  one 

Clad  in  a  garment  plain  and  thrifty,  yet 

As  decent  as  these  fair  dear  follies  ;    made 

As  if  it  were  of  purpose  to  despise 

The  vanity  of  shew  :    his  purse  had  still 

The  power  to  do  a  charitable  deed, 

And  did  it. 

Dub.     Yet  your  inclination,  Sir, 
Deserv'd  no  less  to  be  commended,  than  his  action. 

Mont.     Prethee  do  not  flatter  me  ; 
He  that  intends  well,  yet  deprives  himself 
Of  means,  to  put  his  good  thoughts  into  deed, 
Deceives  his  purpose  of  the  due  reward 
That  goodness  merits :    oh  antiquity 
Thy  great  examples  of  Nobility 
Are  out  of  imitation,  or  at  least 
So  lamely  follow'd,  that  thou  art  as  much 
Before  this  age  in  virtue,  as  in  time. 

Dub.     Sir,  it  must  needs  be  lamely  followed,  when 
The  chiefest  men  love  to  follow  it 
Are  for  the  most  part  cripples. 

Mont.     Who  are  they  ? 

Dub.     Soldiers,  my  Lord,  soldiers. 

Mont.     'Tis  true  Duboys  :    but  if  the  law  disables  me  no 
For  Noble  actions,  than  good  purposes,  (more 

I'll  practice  how  to  exercise  the  worth 

208 


Sc.  i   THE  HONEST  MAN'S  FORTUNE 

Commended  to  us  by  our  ancestors ; 

The  poor  neglecled  soldier  shall  command 

Me  from  a  Ladies  Courtship,  and  the  form 

I'll  study  shall  no  more  be  taught  me  by 

The  Taylor,  but  the  Scholar  ;    that  expence 

Which  hitherto  has  been  to  entertain 

Th'  intemperate  pride  and  pleasure  of  the  taste 

Shall  fill  my  Table  more  to  satisfie, 

And  less  to  surfeit. 

What  an  honest  work  it  would  be  ;    when  we  find 

A  Virgin  in  her  poverty,  and  youth 

Inclining  to  be  tempted,  to  imploy 

As  much  perswasion,  and  as  much  expence 

To  keep  her  upright,  as  men  use  to  do  upon  her  falling. 

Dub.    'Tis  charity  that  many  Maids  will  be  unthankful  for, 
And  some  will  rather  take  it  for  a  wrong, 
To  buy  'em  out  of  their  inheritance, 
The  thing  that  they  were  born  to. 

Enter  Longueville. 

Mont.     Longueville^  thou  bringst  a  chearful  promise  in  thy 
There  stands  no  pale  report  upon  thy  cheek,  (face. 

To  give  me  fear  or  knowledge  of  my  loss,  'tis  red  and  lively. 
How  proceeds  my  suit  ?  (Hercules, 

Long.     That's  with  leave,  Sir,  a  labour   that   to   those   of 
May  add  another  ;    or  (at  least)  be  call'd 
An  imitation  of  his  burning  shirt  : 
For  'twas  a  pain  of  that   [un] merciful 
Perplexity,  to  shoulder  through  the  throng 
Of  people  that  attended  your  success  : 
My  sweaty  linnen  fixt  upon  my  skin, 
Still  as  they  pull'd  me,  took  that  with  it ;    'twas 
A  fear  I  should  have  left  my  flesh  among  'em  : 
Yet  I  was  patient,  for  (methought)  the  toil 
Might  be  an  emblem  of  the  difficult 
And  weary  passage  to  get  out  of  Law. 
And  to  make  up  the  dear  similitude, 
When  I   was  forth  seeking  my  handkerchief 
To  wipe  my  sweat  off,  I  did  find  a  cause 
To  make  me  sweat  more,  for  my  Purse  was  lost 

B.-F.  x.  o  209 


THE  HONEST  MAN'S  FORTUNE  ACT  i 

Among  their  fingers. 

Dub.     There  'twas  rather  found. 

Long.      By   them. 

Dub.     I  mean  so. 

Mont.     Well,  I  will  restore 
Thy  damage  to  thee  :    how  proceeds  my  suit  ? 

L\o]ng.     Like  one  at  Brokers  ;    I  think  forfeited. 
Your  promising  Counsel  at  the  first 
Put  strongly  forward  with  a  labour'd  speed, 
And  such  a  violence  of  pleading,  that 
His  Fee  in   Sugar-candy  scarce  will  make 
His  throat  a  satisfaction   for  the  hurt 
He  did  it,  and  he  carried  the  whole  cause 
Before  him,  with  so  clear  a  passage,  that 
The  people  in  the  favour  of  your  side 
Cried  Montague,  Montague  :    in  the  spight  of  him 
That  cryed  out  silence,  and  began   to  laugh 
Your  adversaries  advocate  to  scorn  : 
Who  like  a  cunning  Footman  set  me  forth 
With  such  a  temperate  easie  kind  of  course 
To  put  him  into  exercise  of  strength, 
And  follow'd  his  advantages  so  close, 

That  when  your  hot  mouth'd  pleader  thought  h'  had  won, 
Before  he  reacht  it,   he  was  out  of  breath, 
And  then  the  other  stript  him. 

Mont.     So  all  is  lost. 

Long.     But  how  I  know  not  ;    for,  (methought)  I  stood 
Confounded  with  the  clamour  of  the  Court, 
Like  one  embark' d  upon  a  storm  at  Sea, 
Where  the  tempestuous  noise  of  Thunder  mixt 
With  roaring  of  the  billows,  and  the  thick, 
Imperfect  language  of  the  Sea-men,  takes 
His  understanding  and  his  safety  both 
Together  from  him. 

Mont.     Thou  dost  bring  ill  news. 

Long.     Of  what  I  was  unwilling  to  have  been 
The  first  reporter. 

Mont.     Didst  observe  no  more  ? 

Long.     At  least  no  better. 

Mont.     Then  th'art  not  inform'd 

2IO 


Sc.  i   THE  HONEST  MAN'S  FORTUNE 

So  well  as  I  am  ;    I  can  tell  thee  that 

Will  please  thee,  for  when  all  else  left  my  cause, 

My  very  adversaries  took  my  part. 

Long.     — Whosoever  told  you  that,  abused  you. 

Mont.     Credit  me,  he  took  my  part 
When  all  forsook  me. 

Long.     Took  it  from  you. 

Mont.     Yes  I  mean  so,  and  I  think  he  had  just  cause 
To  take  it,  when  the  verdicl  gave  it  him. 

Dub.     His  Spirit  would  ha'  sunk  him,  e'r  he  could 
Have  carried  an  ill  fortune  of  this  weight  so  lightly. 

Mont.     Nothing  is  a  misery,  unless  our  weakness  appre- 
hend it  so  ; 

We  cannot  be  more  faithful  to  our  selves 
In  any  thing  that's  manly,  than  to  make 
111  fortune  as  contemptible  to  us 
As  it  makes  us  to  others. 

Enter  Lawyers. 

Long.     Here  come  they 

Whose  very  countenances  will  tell  you  how 
Contemptible  it  is  to  others. 

Mont.     Sir  ? 

Long.     The  Sir  of  Knighthood  may  be  given  him,  e'r 
They  hear  you  now  ? 

Mont.     Good  Sir  but  a  word. 

Dub.     How  soon  the  loss  of  wealth  makes  any  man 
Grow  out  of  knowledge. 

Long.     Let  me  see,  I  pray,  Sir, 
Never  stood  you  upon  the  Pillory  ? 

i  Law.     The  Pillory  ? 

Long.     Oh  now  I  know  you  did  not. 
Y'ave  ears,  I  thought  ye  had  lost  'em  ;    pray  observe, 
Here's  one  that  once  was  gracious  in  your  eyes. 

1  Law.     Oh  my  Lord,  have  an  eye  upon  him. 
Long.     But  ha'  you  ne'er  a  Counsel  to  redeem 

His  Land  yet  from  the  judgement  ? 

2  Law .     None  but  this,  a  Writ  of  error  to  remove  the 
cause. 

O  2  211 


THE  HONEST  MAN'S  FORTUNE  ACT  i 

Long.  No  more  of  error,  we  have  been  in  that  too  much 
already. 

2  Law.  If  you  will  reverse  the  judgement,  you  must 
trust  to  that  delay. 

Long.      Delay  ?    indeed   he's  like  to  trust   to  that, 
With   you  has  any  dealing.  (nem. 

2  Law.     E'r  the  Law  proceeds  to  an  Habere  facias  possessio- 

Dub.     That's  a  language  Sir,  I   understand  not. 

Long.  Th'art  a  very  strange  unthankful  fellow  to  have 
taken  Fees  of  such  a  liberal  measure,  and  then  give  a  man 
hard  words  for's  money. 

I  Law.     If  men  will  hazard  their  salvations, 
What  should  I  say  ?    I've  other  business. 

Mont.     Y'are  i'th'  right ; 
That's  it  you  should  say,  now  prosperity  has  left  me. 

Enter  two  Creditors. 

I  Cred.     Have  an  eye  upon  him  ;    if 
We  lose  him  now,  he's  gone  for  ever  ;    stay 
And  dog  him  :    I'll  go  fetch  the  Officers. 

Long.  Dog  him  you  Bloud-hound  :  by  this  point  thou 
shalt  more  safely  dog  an  angry  Lion,  than  attempt  him. 

Mont.     What's  the  matter  ?  (loss 

Long.     Do  but  stir  to  fetch  a  Serjeant  ;   and  besides  your 
Of  labour,  I'll  have  you  beaten,  till 
Those  casement  in  your  faces  be  false  lights. 

Dub.     Falser  than  those  you  sell  by. 

Mont.  Who  gave  you  Commission  to  abuse  my  friends 
thus  ? 

Lon.     Sir,  are  those  your  friends  that  would  betray  you  ? 

Mont.      'Tis  to  save  themselves  rather  than  betray  me. 

1  Cred.     Your  Lordship  makes  a  just  construction  of  it. 

2  Cred.      All  our  desire  is  but  to  get  our  own. 
Long.     Your  wives  desires  and  yours  do  differ  then. 
Mont.     So  far  as  my  ability  will  go 

You  shall  have  satisfaction  Longeville. 

Long.     And  leave  your  self  neglected  ;    every  man 
Is  first  a  debtor  to  his  own  demands,  being  honest. 

Mont.     As  I  take  it,  Sir,  I  did 
Not  entertain  you  for  my  Counselor. 

212 


Sc.  i   THE  HONEST  MAN'S  FORTUNE 

Long.     Counsel's  the  office  of  a  servant, 
When  the  master  falls  upon  a  danger ;    as 
Defence  is ;    never  threaten  with  your  eyes, 
They  are  no  cockatrices  ;    do  you  hear  ? 
Talk  with   [a]  Girdler,  or  [a]  Mill'ner, 
He  can   inform  you  of  a  kind  of  men 
That  first  undid  the  profit  of  those  trades 
By  bringing  up  the  form  of  carrying 
Their  Morglays  in  their  hands  :    with  some  of  those 
A  man  may  make  himself  a  priviledge 
To  ask  a  question  at  the  prison  gates 
Without  your  good  permission. 

2  Cred.     By  your  leave. 

Mont.     Stay  Sir,  what  one  example  since  the  time 
That  first  you  put  your  hat  off  to  me,  have 
You  noted  in  me  to  encourage  you 
To  this  presumption  ?    by  the  justice  now 
Of  thine  own  rule,  I  should  begin  with  thee, 
I  should  turn  thee  away  ungratified 
For  all  thy  former  kindness,  forget 
Thou  ever  didst  me  any  service  :    'tis  not  fear 
Of  being  arrested,  makes  me  thus  incline 
To  satisfy  you  ;    for  you  see  by  him, 
I  lost  not  all  defences  with  my  state  ; 
The  curses  of  a  man  to  whom  I  am 
Beholding  terrify  me  more,  than  all 
The  violence  he  can  pursue  me  with. 
Duboys,  I   did  prepare   me  for  the  worst  ; 
These  two  small  Cabinets  do  comprehend 
The  sum  of  all  the  wealth  that  it  hath  pleased 
Adversity  to  leave  me,  one  as  rich 
As  th'other,  both  in  Jewels  ;    take  thou  this, 
And  as  the  Order  put  within  it  shall 
Direcl:  thee,  distribute  it  half  between 
Those  Creditors,  and  th'  other  half  among 
My  servants  :    for  (Sir)  they  are  my  Creditors 
As  well  as  you  are,  they  have  trusted  me 
With  their  advancement  :    if  the  value  fail, 
To  please  you  all,  my  first  increase  of  means 
Shall  offer  you  a  fuller  payment  ;    be  content 

213 


THE  HONEST  MAN'S  FORTUNE  ACT  i 

To  leave  me  something,  and   imagine  that 
You  put  a  new   beginner  into  credit. 

Cred.     So  prosper  our  own   blessings,  as  we  wish   you  to 
your  merit. 

Mont.      Are  you[r]  silences  of  discontent,  or  of  sorrow  ? 
Dub.     Sir,   we  would   not  leave  you. 

Long.     Do  but  suffer  us  to  follow  you,  and  what  our  present 
means,  or  industries  hereafter  can  provide,  shall  serve  you. 

Mont.     Oh  desire  me  not  to  live 
To  such  a  baseness,  as  to  be  maintained 
By  those  that  serve  me  ;    pray  begone,  I  will 
Defend  your  honesties  to  any  man 
That  shall  report  you  have  forsaken  me  ; 
I  pray  begone.  [Exeunt  Servants  and  Creditors. 

Why,  dost  thou  weep  my  boy, 
Because  I  do  not  bid  thee  go  to[o]  ? 

Ver.      No,  I  weep  (my  Lord)  because  I   would  not  go  ; 
I  fear  you  will  command   me. 

Mont.     No  my  child, 

I  will  not ;    that  would  discommend  th'   intent 
Of  all  my  other  actions  :    thou  art  yet 
Unable  to  advise  thy  self  a  course, 
Should  I  put  thee  to  seek  it  ;    after  that 
I  must  excuse,  or  at  the  least  forgive 
Any  [un]charitable  deed  that  can  be  done  against  my  self. 

J/er.     Every  day  (my  Lord)  I  tarry  with  you,  I'll  account 
A  day  of  blessing  to  me  ;    for  I  shall 
Have  so  much  less  time  left  me  of  my  life 
When  I  am  from  you  :    and  if  misery 
Befall  you  (which  I  hope  so  good  a  man 
Was  never  born  to)  I  will  take  my  part, 
And  make  my  willingness  increase  my  strength 
To  bear  it.      In  the   Winter  I  will  spare 
Mine  own  cloth [e]s  from  my  self  to  cover  you  ; 
And  in  the  Summer,  carry  some  of  yours 
To  ease  you  :    I'll  doe   any  thing  I  can. 

Mont.     Why,  thou  art  able  to  make  misery 
Ashamed  of  hurting,  when  thy  weakness  can 
Both  bear  it,  and  despise  it :    Come  my  boy 
I  will  provide  some  better  way  for  thee 

214 


Sc.  i   THE  HONEST  MAN'S  FORTUNE 

Than  this  thou  speakst  of :    'tis  the  comfort  that 

[111]   fortune  has  undone  me  into  the  fashion  : 

For  now  in  this  age  most  men   do  begin, 

To  keep  but  one  boy,  that  kept  many  men.  \Exeunt. 

Enter  Orleans,  a  Servant,  his  Lady  following. 

Or/.     Where  is  she  ?    call  her. 

Lady.     I  attend  you  Sir. 

Or/.     Your  friend  sweet  Madam. 

Lady.     What  friend,  good  my  Lord  ? 

Or/.     Your  Montague,  Madam,  he  will  shortly  want 
Those  Courtly  graces  that  you  love  him  for  ; 
The  means  wherewith  he  purchased  this,  and  this  ; 
And  all  his  own  provisions  to  the  least 
Proportion  of  his  feeding,  or  his  clothes, 
Came  out  of  that  inheritance  of  land 
Which  he  unjustly  lived  on  :    but  the  law 
Has  given  me  right  in't,  and  possession  ;    now 
Thou  shalt  perceive  his  bravery  vanish,  as 
This  Jewell  does  from  thee  now,  and  these  Pearls 
To  him  that  owes  'em. 

Lady.     Ye  are   the  owner   Sir  of  every   thing  that   does 
belong  to  me. 

Or/.     No,  not  of  him,  sweet  Lady. 

Lady.     O  good  [God]  ! 

Or/.     But  in  a  while  your  mind  will  change,  and  be 
As  ready  to  disclaim  him  ;    when  his  wants 
And  miseries  have  perish 'd  his  good  face, 
And  taken  off  the  sweetness  that  has  made 
Him  pleasing  in  a  womans  understanding. 

La.     O   Heaven,  how  gratious  had  Creation  been 
To  women,  who  are  born  without  defence, 
If  to  our  hearts  there  had  been  doors  through  which 
Our  husbands  might  have  lookt  into  our  thoughts, 
And  made  themselves  undoubtfull. 

Or/.     Made  'em  mad. 

La.     With  honest  women. 

Or/.     Thou  dost  still  pretend 
A  title  to  that  virtue  :    prethee  let 
Thy  honesty  speak  freelie  to  me  now. 

215 


THE  HONEST  MAN'S  FORTUNE  ACT  i 

Thou  know'st  that  Montague,  of  whose  Land 

I   [a]m   the   master,  did  affect  thee  first, 

And  should  have  had  thee,   if  the  strength  of  friends 

Had  not  prevail'd  above  thine  own  consent. 

I   have  undone  him  ;    tell   me  how   thou  dost 

Consider  his  ill   fortune  and   my  good. 

La.     I'll  tell  you  justly   his  undoing  is 
An  argument  for  pity  and  for  tears 
In  all  their  dispositions  that  have  known 
The  honor  and  the  goodness  of  his  life  : 
Yet  that  addition  of  prosperity, 
Which  you  have  got  by't,  no  indifferent  man 
Will  malice  or  repine  at,  if  the  Law 
Be  not  abused  in't  ;    howsoever  since 
You  have  the  upper  fortune  of  him,  'twill 
Be  some  dishonor  to  you  to  bear  your  self 
With  any  pride  or  glory  over  him. 

Or/.     This  may  be  truely  spoken,  but  in  thee 
It  is  not  honest. 

La.     Yes,  so  honest,  that  I  care  not  if  the  chast  Penelope 
Were  now  alive  to  hear  me. 

Enter  Amiens. 

Or/.     Who  comes  there  ? 

La.     My  brother. 

Am.      Save  ye. 

Or/.     Now  Sir,  you   have  heard  of  prosperous  Montague. 

Am.     No  Sir,   I   have  heard  of  Montague, 
But  of  your  prosperity. 

Or/.     Is  he  distracted. 

Am.     He  does  bear  his  loss  with  such  a  noble  strength 
Of  patience  that, 

Had  fortune  eyes  to  see  him,  she  would  weep 
For  having  hurt  him,  and  pretending  that 
Shee  did  it  but  for  triall  of  his  worth  : 
Hereafter  ever  love  him. 

Or/.    I  perceive  you  love  him,  and  because  (I  must  confess) 
He  does  deserve  that  though  for  some  respefts, 
I   have  not  given  him  that  acknowledgement, 
Yet  in  mine  honor  I   did  still  conclude  to  use  him  nobly. 

216 


Sc.  i   THE  HONEST  MAN'S  FORTUNE 

Am.     Sir,  that  will  become  your  reputation  and  make  me 
grow  proud  of  your  alliance. 

Or/.     I  did  reserve  the  doing  of  this  friendship  till  I  had 
His  fortunes  at  my  mercy,  that  the  world 
May  tell  him  'tis  a  willing  courtesie. 

La.     This  change  will  make  me  happy.  (me  when 

Or/.     'Tis  a  change ;  thou  shalt  behold  it  :  then  observe 
That  Montague  had  possession  of  my  Land, 
I  was  his  rivall,  and  at  last  obtain'd 
This  Lady  who,  by  promise  of  her  own 
Affeclion  to  him,  should  ha'  bin   his  wife  ; 
I  had  her,  and  withheld  her  like  a  pawn, 
Till  now  my  Land  is  rend'red  to  me  again, 
And  since  it  is  so,  you  shall  see  I  have 

The  conscience  not  to  keep  her — give  him  her —  [draws. 
For  by  the  faithfull  temper  of  my  sword,  she  shall  not  tarry 
with  me. 

Am.     Give  me  way —  [draws. 

Thou  most  unworthy  man — give  me  way; 
Or  by  the  wrong  he  does  the  Innocent, 
I'll  end  thy  misery  and  his  wickedness,  together. 

Lady.     Stay  and  let  me  justifie 
My  husband  in  that,  I  have  wrong'd  his  bed.     [Exeunt  Am\  Or/: 

Enter  Orleans  in  amazement,  the  servants  following  him. 

Never — all  shames  that  can  afflict  me  fall 
Upon  me  if  I  ever  wrong'd  you  ; 

Or/.     Didst  thou  not  confess  it ; 

La.     'Twas  to  save  your  blood  from  shedding,  that  has 
Turn'd  my  brothers  edge  ; 
He  that  beholds  our  thoughts  as  plainely  as 
Our  faces,  knowes  it,  I   did  never  hurt 
My  honesty  but  by  accusing  it. 

Or/.     Womens  consents  are  sooner  credited 
Than  their  denials  :    and  I'll  never  trust 
Her  body  that  prefers  any  defence 
Before  the  safety  of  her  honor — here 

Enter  Servant. 
Show  forth  that  stranger — give  me  not  a  word. 

21  7 


THE  HONEST  MAN'S  FORTUNE  ACT  i 

Thou  seest  a  danger  readie  to  be  tempted. 

La.      Cast  that   upon   me  rather  than   my  shame, 
And  as  I   am   now  dying  I  will  vow 
That   I  am   honest. 

Or/.      Put   her  out  of  dores  ;    but  that  I   fear   my   land 
May  go  again   to  Montague,  I   would  kill   thee,   I  am   loth, 
To  make  a   beggar  of  him   that  way ;    or  else — 
Go  now  you  have  the  liberty  of  flesh, 
And  you  may  put   it  to  a  double  use, 
One   for  your  pleasure,  th'other  to  maintain 
Your  wellbeloved,  he  will  want.  [Exit  Lady. 

In  such  a  charitable  exercise 
The  virtue  will  excuse  you  for  the  vice.  [Exit  Orleans. 

Enter  Amiens  drawn,  Montague,   Veramor  meeting. 

Mont.     What  means  your  Lordship  ? 

Ver.      For  the  love  of  [God]. 

Am.     Thou  hast  advantage  of  me,  cast  away  this  buckler. 

Mont.     So  he  is  Sir,  for  he  lives 
With  one  that  is  undone — avoyd  us  boy. 

Ver.     I'll  first  avoid  my  safety, 

Your  Rapier  shall  be  button'd  with  my  head,  before  it  touch 
my  Master. 

Am.      Montague  ? 

Mont.     Sir. 

Am.     You  know  my  sister  ? 

Mont.     Yes  Sir. 

Am.     For  a  whore  ?  (her  honor. 

Mont.     You   lye,   and   shall   lie   lower   if  you   dare   abuse 

Enter  Lady. 

La.     I  am  honest. 

Am.     Honest  ! 

La.     Upon  my  faith  I  am. 

Am.     What  did  then  p[e]rsuade  thee  to  condemn  thy  self? 

La.     Your  safety. 

Am.     I  had  rather  be  expos'd 
To  danger,  than  dishonor  ;    th'ast  betray'd 
The  reputation  of  my  familie 
More  basely  by  the  falseness  of  that  word, 

218 


Sc.  i    THE  HONEST  MAN'S  FORTUNE 

Than  if  thou  hadst  delivered  me  asleep 

Into  the  hands  of  base  enemies. 

Relief  will  never  make  thee  sensible 

Of  thy  disgraces ;   let  thy  wants  compell  thee  to  it.       [Exit. 

La.     O   I  am  a  miserable  woman.  (relieve  you  ? 

Mont.     Why  Madam  ?  are  you  utterly  without  means  to 

La.     I  have  nothing  Sir,  unless  by  changing  of  these  cloaths 
for  worse,  and  then  at  last  the  worst  for  nakedness. 

Mont.      Stand  off  boy,  nakedness  would   be  a  change 
To  please  us  Madam,  to  delight  us  both. 

La.     What  nakedness  Sir  ?  (Lovers  once. 

Mont.     Why   the    nakedness    of   body    Madam,   we   were 

La.     Never  dishonest  Lovers. 

Mont.     Honestie  has  no  allowance  now  to  give  our  selves. 

La.     Nor  you  allowance  against  honestie. 

Mont.     I'll  send  my  Boy  hence,  opportunitie 
Shall  be  our  servant,  come  and  meet  me  first 
With  kisses  like  a  stranger  at  the  door, 
And  then   invite  me  nearer  to  receive 
A  more  familiar  inward   wellcome  ;    where, 
Instead  of  tapers  made  of  Virgins  wax 
Th'increasing  flames  of  our  desires  shall  light 
Us  to  a  banquet  :    and  before  the  taste 
Be  dull  with  satisfaction,  I'll  prepare 
A  nourishment  compos'd  of  every  thing 
That  bears  a  naturall  friendship  to  the   blood, 
And  that  shall  set  another  edge  upon  't, 
Or  else   between  the  courses  of  the  feast 
We'll  dallie  out  an  exercise  of  time, 
That  ever  as  one  appetite  expires  another  may  succeed  it. 

La.    O  my  Lord,  how  has  your  nature  lost  her  worthiness ! 
When  our  affections  had  their  liberty, 
Our  kisses  met  as  temperatelie  as 
The  hands  of  sisters,  or  of  brothers,  that 
Our  bloods  were  then  as  moving  ;    then   you  were 
So  noble,  that  I  durst  have  trusted  your 
Embraces  in  an  opportunity 
Silent  enough  to  serve  a  ravisher, 
And  yet  come  from  you — undishonorM — how 
You  think  me  altered,  that  you  promise  your 

219 


THE  HONEST  MAN'S  FORTUNE    ACT  n 

Attempt  success  I  know   not  ;    but  were  all 

The  sweet  temptations  that  deceive  us  set 

On   this  side,  and   [on]  that  side  all  the  waiters, 

These  neither  should  p[e]rsuade  me,  nor   these  force. 

Mont.     Then  misery  may  waste  your  body. 

Lady.     Yes,  but  lust  shall  never.  (first 

Mont.     I  have  found  you  still  as  uncorupted  as  I  left  you 
Continue  so  ;    and  I  will  serve  you  with 
As  much  devotion  as  my  word,  my  hand 
Or  purse  can  show  you  ;    and  to  justifie 
That  promise,  here  is  half  the  wealth  I  have, 
Take  it,   you  owe  me  nothing,  till  you  fall 
From  virtue,  which  the  better  to  protect 
I  have  bethought  me  of  a  present  means  : 
Give  me  the  Letter  ;    this  commends  my  Boy 
Into  the  service  of  a  Lady,  whose 
Free  goodness  you  have  bin  acquainted  with,  Lam'ira. 

Lady.     Sir  I  know  her.  (you  ; 

Mont.     Then  believe  her  entertainment  will  be  noble  to 
My  boy  shall  bring  you  thither  :    and  relate 
Your  manner  of  misfortune  if  your  own 
Report  needs  any  witness  :    so  I  kiss  your  hand  good   Lady. 

Lady.     Sir,  I  know  not  how  to  promise,  but  I  cannot   be 
unthankfull. 

Mont.     All  that  you  can  implore  in  thankfulness 
Be  yours,  to  make  you  the  more  prosperous. 
Farwell  my  boy, — I  am  not  yet  oppress'd.          [Exit  Lady  Vere. 
Having  the  power  to  helpe  one  that's  distress'd.          [Exeunt. 

Affius  Secundi.     Sctena   Prima. 

Enter  Longaville  and  Dubois. 

Long.  \  T  7  Hat  shall  we  do  now  :    swords  are  out  of  use, 
VV     And  words  are  out  of  credit. 

Dub.     We  must  serve. 

L\o\ng.     The  means  to  get  a  service  will  first  spend 
Our  purses  ;    and  except  we  can  allow 
Our  selves  an  entertainment,  service  will 
Neglect  us  ;    now  'tis  grown  into  a  doubt 

220 


Sc.  i  THE  HONEST  MAN'S  FORTUNE 

Whether  the  Mr.  or  the  servants  gives  the  countenance. 

Dub.     Then  fall  in  with  Mistresses. 

Long.     They  keep  more  servants  now  (indeed)  than  men, 
But  yet  the  age  is  grown  so  populous 
Of  those  attendants,  that  the  women  are 
Grown  full  too. 

Dub.     What  shall  we  propound  our  selves  ? 

Long.     I'll  think  on't. 

Dub.     Do  ;   Old  occupations  have  too  many  setters  up  to 
prosper,  some  uncommon  trade  would  thrive  now. 

Long.    Wee'll  e'en  make  up  some  half  a  dozen  proper  men. 
And  should  not  we  get  more 
Than  all  your  female  sinners  ? 

Dub.     If  the  house  be  seated  as  it  should  be  privately. 

Long.     I,  but  that  would  make  a  multitude  of  witches. 

Dub.     Witches  ?    how  prethee  ? 

Long.     Thus  the  bauds  would  all  turn  witches  to  revenge 
Themselves  upon  us,  and  the  women   that 
Come  to  us,  for  disguises  must  wear  beards, 
And  that's  they  say,  a  token  of  a  witch. 

Dub.     What  shall  we  then  do. 

Long.     We  must  study  on't 
With  more  consideration  ;    stay  Duboyes 
Are  not  the  Lord  of  Orleans  and  the  Lord 
Of  Amiens  enemies  ? 

Dub.     Yes,  what  of  that. 

Long.     Methinks  the  factions  of  two  such  great  men. 
Should  give  a  promise  of  advancement  now 
To  us  that  want  it.  (second  thee. 

Dub.     Let    the  plot   be   thine,  and   in   the  enterprize  I'll 

Long.     I  have  it,  we  will  first  set  down  our  selves 
The  Method  of  a  quarrell  ;    and  make  choyce 
Of  some  frequented  Tavern  ;    or  such  a  place 
Of  common  notice,  to  perform   it  in 
By  way  of  undertaking  to  maintain 
The  severall  honors  of  those  enemies. 
Thou  for  the  Lord  of  Orleans ;    I   for  Amiens. 

Dub.     I  like  the  project,  and  I  think  'twill  take 
The  better,  since  their  difference  first  did  rise 
From  his  occasion  whom  we  followed  once. 

221 


THE  HONEST  MAN'S  FORTUNE    ACT  n 

Long.     We  cannot  hope  less  after  the  report, 
Than  entertainment  or  gratuity, 
Yet  those  are  ends,   I   do  not  aim  at  most  ; 
Great  spirits  that  are  needy,  and  will   thrive, 
Must  labour  whiles  such   troubles  are  alive.  [Exeunt. 

Enter  Laverdine  and  La-poope. 

La-p.  Slander  is  sharper  than  the  sword.  I  have  fed  this 
three  dayes  upon  leaf  Tobacco,  for  want  of  other  Victuals. 

Lav.  You  have  liv'd  the  honester  Captain  ;  but  be  not  so 
dejeded,  but  hold  up  thy  head,  and  meat  will  sooner  fall  i'thy 
mouth. 

La-p.  I  care  not  so  much  for  meat,  so  I  had  but  good 
liquor,  for  which  my  guts  croak  like  so  many  Frogs  for  rain. 

Lav.  It  seems,  you  are  troubled  with  the  wind-Collick, 
Captain,  swallow  a  bullet  :  'tis  present  remedy  I'll  assure  you. 

La-p.  A  bullet  ?  I'll  tell  you  Sir,  my  panch  is  nothing  but 
a  pile  of  bullets;  when  I  was  in  any  service  I  stood  between 
my  Generall  and  the  shot,  like  a  mud-wall ;  I  am  all  lead,  from 
the  crown  of  the  head  to  the  soal  of  the  foot,  not  a  sound  bone 
about  me. 

La\v\.    It  seems  you  have  bin  in  terrible  hot  service  Captain. 

La-p.  It  has  ever  bin  the  fate  of  the  low  Country  wars  to 
spoil  many  a  man,  I  ha'  not  bin  the  first  nor  shall  not  be  the 
last  :  but  I'll  tell  you  Sir,  (hunger  has  brought  it  in  to  mind) 
I  served  once  at  the  Siege  of  Braste,  'tis  memorable  to  this  day, 
where  we  were  in  great  distress  for  victuals,  whole  troops  fainted 
more  for  want  of  food  then  for  blood,  and  died,  yet  we  were 
resolved  to  stand  it  out ;  I  my  self  was  but  then  Gentleman  of 
a  Company,  and  had  as  much  need  as  any  man,  and  indeed  I 
had  perished  had  not  a  miraculous  providence  preserved  me. 

Lav.     As  how  good  Captain  ? 

La-p.  Marry  Sir,  e'en  as  I  was  fainting  and  falling  down 
for  want  of  sustenance,  the  enemy  made  a  shot  at  me,  and 
struck  me  full  ith'  paunch  with  a  penny  loaf. 

Lav.     Instead  of  a  bullet  ! 

La-p.     In  stead  of  a  bullet. 

Lav.  That  was  miraculous  indeed ;  and  that  loaf  sus- 
tained you. 

La-p.     Nourished  me  or  I  had  famished  with  the  rest. 

222 


Sc.  i   THE  HONEST  MAN'S  FORTUNE 

Lav.  You  have  done  worthy  acls  being  a  soldier,  and  now 
you  shall  give  me  leave  to  requite  your  tale,  and  to  acquaint 
you  with  the  most  notorious  deeds  that  I  have  done  being  a 
Courtier.  I  protest  Captain  I  will  lie  no  more  than  you 
have  done. 

La-p.     I  can  indure  no  lies. 

Lav.  I  know  you  cannot  Captain,  therefore  I'll  only  tell 
you  of  strange  things  :  I  did  once  a  deed  of  charity  for  it  self; 
I  assisted  a  poor  widow  in  a  sute,  and  obtained  it,  yet  I  protest 
I  took  not  a  penny  for  my  labor. 

La-p.     'Tis  no  such  strange  thing. 

Lav.  By  Mars  Captain,  but  it  is,  and  a  very  strange  thing 
too  in  a  Courtier,  it  may  take  the  upper  hand  of  your  penny 
loaf  for  a  miracle.  I  could  ha'  told  you  how  many  Ladyes 
have  languished  for  my  love,  and  how  I  was  once  solicited  by 
the  mother,  the  daughter,  and  grand-mother ;  out  of  the  least 
of  which  I  might  have  digg'd  my  self  a  fortune;  they  were  all 
great  Ladyes,  for  two  of  them  were  so  big  I  could  hardly 
embrace  them :  but  I  was  sluggish  in  my1  rising  courses,  and 
therefore  let  them  pass  ;  what  means  I  had  is  spent  upon  such 
as  had  the  wit  to  cheat  me  ;  That  wealth  being  gone,  I  have 
only  bought  experience  with  it,  with  a  strong  hope  to  cheat 
others  ;  but  see  here  comes  the  much  declined  Montague,  who 
had  all  the  Manor  houses,  which  were  the  body  of  his  estate, 
overthrowen  by  a  great  wind. 

Enter  Montague,  Mallicorne. 

La-p.    How  by  a  great  wind  ?  was  he  not  overthrown  by  law  ? 

Lav.  Yes,  marry  was  he :  but  there  was  terrible  puffing 
and  blowing  before  he  was  overthrown,  if  you  observ'd,  and 
believe  it  Captain,  there's  no  wind  so  dangerous  to  a  building 
as  a  lawyers  breath. 

La-p.     What's  he  with  him  ? 

Lav.  An  eminent  Citizen,  Mounsier  Mallicorne,  let's 
stand  a  side  and  listen  their  design. 

Mai.  Sir,  profit  is  the  Crown  of  labor,  it  is  the  life,  the 
soul  of  the  industrious  Merchant,  in  it  he  makes  his  paradise, 
and  for  it  neglecls  Wife,  Children,  Friends,  Parents,  nay  all  the 
world,  and  delivers  up  himself  to  the  violence  of  storms,  and  to 

223 


THE  HONEST  MAN'S  FORTUNE   ACT  n 

be  tos'd  into  unknown  ayrs  ;  as  there  is  no  faculty  so  perillous, 
so  there's  none  so  worthy  profitable. 

Mont.  Sir,  I  am  very  well  possest  of  it,  and  what  of  my 
poore  fortunes  remaines,  I  would  gladly  hazard  upon  the  Sea  : 
it  cannot  deal  worse  with  me  than  the  Land,  though  it  sink  or 
throw  it  in  the  hands  of  Pirats.  I  have  yet  five  hundred  pounds 
left,  and  your  honest  and  worthy  acquaintance  may  make  me  a 
young  Merchant  ;  th'one  moity  of  what  I  have  I  would  gladly 
adventure. 

Mai.  How  adventure?  you  shall  hazard  nothing  :  you  shall 
only  joyn  with  me  in  certain  commodities  that  are  safe  arrived 
unto  the  Key  ;  you  shall  neither  be  in  doubt  of  danger  nor 
dammage;  But  so  much  money  disburst,  so  much  receive;  Sir, 
I  would  have  you  conceive  I  pursue  it  not  for  any  good  your 
money  will  do  me,  but  meerly  out  of  mine  own  freeness  and 
courtesie  to  pleasure  you. 

Mont.  I  can  believe  no  less,  and  you  express  a  noble 
nature,  seeking  to  build  up  a  man  so  ruin'd  as  my  self. 

Lav.  Captain  here  is  subjecl  for  us  to  work  upon  if  we 
have  wit ;  you  hear  that  there  is  money  yet  left,  and  it  is  going 
to  be  layd  out  in  Rattels,  Bels,  Hobby-Horses,  brown  paper,  or 
some  such  like  sale  commodities  ;  now  it  would  do  better  in 
our  purses,  upon  our  backs  in  good  Gold-lace,  and  Scarlat,  and 
then  we  might  pursue  our  projects,  and  our  devices  towards  my 
Lady  Annabella ;  go  to,  there's  a  conceit  newly  landed,  heark  I 
stand  in  good  reputation  with  him,  and  therefore  may  the 
better  cheat  him :  Captain,  take  a  few  instructions  from  me. 

Mont.  What  monies  I  have  is  at  your  disposing,  and  upon 
twelve  I  will  meet  you  at  the  Pallace  with  it. 

Mai.    I  will  there  expert  you,  and  so  I  take  my  leave.     [Exit. 

Lav.     You  apprehend  me  ? 

La-p.     Why  do  ye  think  I  am  a  dunce  ? 

Lav.  Not  a  dunce  Captain,  but  you  might  give  me  leave 
to  misdoubt  that  pregnancy  in  a  Soldier,  which  is  proper  and 
hereditary  to  a  Courtier  ;  but  prosecute  it,  I  will  both  second, 
and  give  credit  to  it.  Good  Mounsier  Montague^  I  would  your 
whole  revenues  lay  within  the  circuit  of  mine  armes,  that  I 
might  as  easily  bestow,  or  restore  it  unto  you  as  my  curtesie. 

La-p.  My  zealous  wishes  Sir,  do  accompany  his  for  your 
good  fortunes. 

224 


Sc.  i    THE  HONEST  MAN'S  FORTUNE 

Lav.  Believe  it  Sir,  our  affection  towards  you  is  a  strong 
band  of  friendship. 

Mont.  To  which  I  shall  most  willingly  seal.  But  believe 
me  Gentlemen  in  a  broken  estate,  the  bond  of  friendship  oft  is 
forfeited,  but  that  it  is  your  free  and  ingenuous  nature  to  renew  it. 

Lav.  Sir,  I  will  amply  extend  my  self  to  your  use,  and  am 
very  zealously  afflicted  as  not  one  of  your  least  friends  for  your 
crooked  fate  ;  But  let  it  not  seise  you  with  any  dejection,  you 
have  as  I  hear  a  sufficient  competency  left,  which  well  disposed 
may  erect  you  as  high  in  the  worlds  account  as  ever. 

Mont.  I  cannot  live  to  hope  it,  much  less  injoy  it,  nor  is  it 
any  part  of  my  endeavor  ;  my  study  is  to  render  every  man  his 
own,  and  to  contain  my  self  within  the  limits  of  a  Gentleman. 

Lav.  I  have  the  grant  of  an  Office  given  me  by  some 
noble  favorites  of  mine  in  Court,  there  stands  but  a  small  matter 
between  me  and  it,  if  your  ability  be  such  to  lay  down  the 
present  summ,  out  of  the  love  I  bear  you,  before  any  other  man, 
it  shall  be  confirmed  yours. 

Mont.  I  have  heard  you  often  speak  of  such  a  thing  ;  If  it 
be  assur'd  to  you  I  will  gladly  deal  in  it :  that  portion  I  have, 
I  would  not  hazard  upon  one  course,  for  I  see  the  most  certain 
is  incertain. 

La-p.  Having  money  Sir,  you  could  not  light  upon  men 
that  could  give  better  direction ;  there  is  at  this  time  a  friend  of 
mine  upon  the  Seas  ;  to  be  plain  with  you,  he  is  a  pyrate,  that 
hath  wrote  to  me  to  work  his  fredom,  and  by  this  Gentlemans 
means,  whose  acquaintance  is  not  small  at  Court ;  we  have  the 
word  of  a  worthy  man  for  it,  only  there  is  some  money  to  be 
suddainly  disburst,  and  if  your  happiness  be  such  to  make  it  up 
you  shall  receive  treble  gain  by  it,  and  good  assurance  for  it. 

Mont.  Gentlemen,  out  of  the  weakness  of  my  estate  you 
seem  (to  have  some  knowledge  of  my  brest)  that  wou'd  if  it 
were  possible  advance  my  declined  fortunes,  to  satisfie  all  men 
of  whom  I  have  had  credit,  and  I  know  no  way  better  than 
these  which  you  propose  ;  I  have  some  money  ready  under  my 
command,  some  part  of  it  is  already  promised,  but  the  remainder 
is  yours  to  such  uses  as  are  propounded. 

Lav.  Appoint  some  certain  place  of  meeting,  for  these 
affaires  require  expedition. 

Mount.     I  will  make  it  my  present  business  :  at  twelve,  I 

£.-F.  X.  P  225 


THE  HONEST  MAN'S  FORTUNE   ACT  n 

am  to  meet  Mallicorne,  the  Marchant  at  the  Pallace,  you  know 
him  Sir,  about  some  negotiation  of  the  same  nature,  there  I  will 
be  ready  to  tender  you  that  money,  upon  such  conditions  as  we 
shall  conclude  of. 

Lav.     The    care    of   it    be    yours,  so   much   as    the   affair 

concerns  you.  (leave. 

Mont.     Your  caution  is  effecluall,  and  till  then  I  take  my 

Lav.     Good   Mr  Montague.  [Exit. 

W\i\thm  a  clamor,  down  with  their  weapons. 

Enter  Longavile,  and  Dubois,  their  swords  drawn, 
servants  and  others  between  them. 

Ser.  Nay  Gentlemen  what  mean  you  ?  pray  be  quiet, 
have  some  respect  unto  the  house. 

Long.     A  treacherous  slave. 

Du.     Thou  dost  revile  thy  self  base   Longavile. 

Long.  I  say  thou  art  a  villain,  and  a  corrupt  one,  that  hast 
some  seven  years  fed  on  thy  masters  trencher,  yet  never  bredst 
good  blood  towards  him  :  for  if  thou  hadst,  thou'dst  have  a 
sounder  heart. 

Du.  So  Sir,  you  can  use  your  tongue  something  nimbler 
than  your  sword. 

Long.  Wou'd  you  cou'd  use  your  tongue  well  of  your 
Master,  friend  you  might  have  better  imployment  for  your 
sword. 

Du.  I  say  again,  and  I  will  speak  it  loud  and  often,  that 
Orleans  is  a  noble  Gentleman  with  whom  Amiens  is  too  light 
to  poyse  the  scale. 

Long.  He  is  the  weaker  for  taking  of  a  prayse  out  of 
thy  mouth. 

Du.     This  hand  shall  seal  his  merit  at  thy  heart. 

Lav.     Part  them  my  masters,  part  them. 

Ser.  Part  them  Sir,  why  do  you  not  part  them,  you  stand 
by  with  your  sword  in  your  hand,  and  cry  part  'em. 

Lav.  Why  you  must  know  my  friend  my  cloaths  are 
better  than  yours,  and  in  a  good  suit,  I  do  never  use  to  part 
any  body. 

La-p.     And  it  is  discretion. 

Lav.     I  marry  is  it  Captain. 

Long.     Dubo'is   though    this    place    priviledge    thee,    know 

226 


Sc.  i  THE  HONEST  MAN'S  FORTUNE 

where    next    we    meet,   the   blood   which   at   thy   heart  flows 
drops  at  thy  feet. 

Enter  Amunce  in  haste,  his  sword  drawn. 

Du.  I  would  not  spend  it  better  than  in  this  quarrell,  and 
on  such  a  hazard. 

Ami.  What  uprore's  this,  must  my  name  here  be  question'd 
in  Tavern  brawls,  and  by  affected  Ruffins  ? 

Lav.     Not  we  indeed  Sir. 

Du.  Fear  cannot  make  me  shrink  out  of  your  fury,  though 
you  were  greater  than  your  name  doth  make  you,  I  am  one, 
and  the  opposer  ;  if  your  swoln  rage  have  ought  in  malice  to 
inforce  express  it. 

Ami.      I   seek  thee  not,  nor  shalt  thou  ever  gain 
That  credit,  which  a  blow  from  me  wou'd  give  thee, 

By  my  I  more  detest  that  fellow 

Which  took  my  part  than  thee,  that  he  durst  offer 

To  take  my  honor  in   his  feeble  armes, 

And  spend  it  in  a  drinking  room  ;    which  way  went  he  ? 

Lav.  That  way  Sir,  I  wou'd  you  wou'd  after  ;  for  I  do 
fear  we  shall  have  some  more  scuffling. 

Ami.  [I]'ll  follow  him,  and  if  my  speed  o'er  take  him, 
I  shall  ill  thank  him,  for  his  forwardness.  [Exit. 

Lav.  I  am  glad  he's  gone,  for  I  doe  not  love  to  see  a  sword 
drawn  in  the  hand  of  a  man  that  lookes  so  furious,  there's  no 
jesting  with  edge  tooles,  how  say  you  Captain  ? 

Cap.    I  say  'tis  better  jesting  than  to  be  in  earnest  with  them. 

Enter  Orleance. 

Or/.  How  now  ?  what's  the  difference  ?  they  say  there 
have  bin  swords  drawn,  and  in  my  quarrell  :  let  me  know 
that  man,  whose  love  is  so  sincere  to  spend  his  blood  for  my 
sake,  I  will  bounteously  requite  him. 

Lav.     We  were  all  of  your  side,  but  there  he  stands  begun  it. 

Or/.     What's  thy  name  ? 

Dub.      Duboyes. 

Or/.     Give  me  thy  hand,   [thou]   hast  received  no  hurt  ? 

Dub.  Not  any,  nor  were  this  body  stuck  full  of  wounds, 
I  should  not  count  them  hurts,  being  taken  in  so  honorable 
a  cause  as  the  defence  of  my  most  worthy  Lord. 

p  2  227 


THE  HONEST  MAN'S  FORTUNE  ACT  n 

Or/.  The  dedication  of  thy  love  to  me  requires  my  ample 
bounty,  thou  art  mine,  for  I  do  find  thee  made  unto  my  pur- 
poses :  Mounsieur  Laverdine,  pardon  my  neglect  I  not  observed 
you,  and  how  runs  rumour  ? 

Lav.  Why,  it  runs  my  Lord  like  a  foot-man  without  a 
cloak,  to  show  that  what's  once  rumour'd  it  cannot  be  hid. 

Or[/].  And  what  say  the  rable,  am  not  I  the  subject  of 
their  talk  ? 

Lav.  Troth  my  Lord  the  common  mouth  speaks  foul 
words. 

Or/.     Of  me,  for  turning  away  my  wife,  do  they  not  ? 

Lav.  Faith  the  men  do  a  little  murmure  at  it  and  say, 
'tis  an  ill  president  in  so  great  a  man,  marry  the  women 
they  rayl  out  right. 

Or/.  Out  upon  them  rampallions.  I'll  keep  my  self  safe 
enough  out  of  their  fingers,  but  what  say  my  pritty  jolly 
composed  gallants  that  censure  every  thing  more  desperate 
than  it  is  dangerous  ;  what  say  they  ? 

Lav.  Marry  they  are  laying  wagers,  what  death  you  shall 
die  ;  one  offers  to  lay  five  hundred  pounds  ;  And  yet  he  had 
but  a  groat  about  him,  &  that  was  in  two  twopences  too  to 
any  man  that  wou'd  make  it  up  a  shilling  ;  that  you  were 
kil'd  with  a  Pistoll  charg'd  with  white  Powder ;  another  offerd 
to  pawn  his  soul  for  five  shillings,  and  yet  no  body  wou'd  take 
him,  that  you  were  stab'd  to  death,  and  shou'd  die  with  more 
wounds  than  Cesar. 

Or/.  And  who  shou'd  be  the  Butchers  that  shou'd  do  it  ? 
Montague  and  his  associates  ? 

Lav.     So  'tis  conjectured. 

La-p.  And  believe  it,  sweet  Prince,  it  is  to  be  feared, 
and  therefore  prevented. 

Or/.  By  turning  his  purpose  on  himself,  were  not  that 
the  way  ? 

Lav.  The  most  direct  path  for  your  safety.  For  where 
doth  danger  sit  more  furious  than  in  a  desperate  man  ? 

La-p.  And  being  you  have  declined  his  means,  you  have 
increast  his  malice. 

Lav.  Besides  the  generall  report  that  steems  in  every 
mans  breath,  and  stains  you  all  over  with  infamy,  that  Time 
the  devourer  of  all  things  cannot  eat  out. 

228 


Sc.  i  THE  HONEST  MAN'S  FORTUNE 

La-p.  I,  for  that  former  familiarity,  which  he  had  with 
your  Lady. 

Lav.  Men  speak  it  as  boldly  as  words  of  compliment  ; 
good  morrow,  good  even,  or  [God]  save  you  Sir,  are  not  more 
usuall ;  if  the  word  cuckold  had  been  written  upon  your  fore- 
head in  great  Capitall  Letters,  it  could  not  have  been  dilated 
with  more  confidence. 

Or/.  He  shall  not  sleep  another  night,  I  will  have  his 
blood,  though  it  be  required  at  my  hands  again. 

Lav.  Your  Lordship  may,  and  without  hazarding  your 
own  person  ;  here's  a  Gentleman  in  whose  looks  I  see  a  reso- 
lution to  perform  it. 

Dub.  Let  his  Lordship  give  me  but  his  honorable  word 
for  my  life,  I'll  kill  him  as  he  walks. 

Lav.     Or  pistoll  him  as  he  sits  at  meat. 

La-p.     Or  at  game. 

Lav.     Or  as  he  is  drinking. 

Dub.     Any  way. 

Or/.  Wou't  thou  ?  call  what  is  mine  thine  own,  thy 
reputation  shall  not  be  brought  in  question  for  it,  much  less 
thy  life  ;  it  shall  be  nam'd  a  deed  of  valour  in  thee,  not 
murder  :  Farewell.  [Exit. 

Dub.  I  need  no  more  encouragement,  it  is  a  work  I  will 
persuade  my  self  that  I  was  born  to. 

Laver.  And  you  may  persuade  your  self  too  that  you  shall 
be  sav'd  by  it,  being  that  it  is  for  his  honorable  Lordship. 

Dub.    But  you  must  yield  me  means,  how,  when  and  where. 

Lav.     That  shall  be  our  tasks  ; 
Nay  more,  we  will  be  agents  with  thee  : 

This  hour  we  are  to  meet  him,  on  the  receipt  of  certain  moneys, 
Which  indeed  we  purpose  honestly  to  cheat  him  of, 
And  that's  the  main  cause  I  wou'd  have  him  slain, 
Who  works  with  safety  makes  a  double  gain.  [Exeunt. 

Enter  Longaville,  Amiens  following  him. 

Ami.  Stay  Sir,  I  have  took  some  pains  to  overtake  you. — 
Your  name  is  Longaville. 

Long.  I  have  the  word  of  many  honest  men  for't,  I  crave 
your  Lordships  pardon,  your  sudden  apprehension  on  my  steps 

229 


THE  HONEST  MAN'S  FORTUNE  ACT  n 

made  me  to  frame  an  answer  unwitting  and   unworthy  your 
respeft. 

Ami.     Doe  you   know  me  ? 

Long.      Yes,   my   Lord. 

Ami.  I  know  not  you  ;  nor  am  I  well  pleased  to  make 
this  time,  as  the  affair  now  stands,  the  induction  of  your 
acquaintance  ;  you  are  a  fighting  fellow. 

Long.     How  my  Lord  ? 

Ami.  I  think  I  too  much  grace  you  ;  rather  you  are  a 
fellow  dares  not  fight,  but  spit  and  puffe  and  make  a  noyse, 
whilst  your  trembling  hand  draws  out  your  Sword,  to  lay  it 
upon  andirons,  stools  or  tables,  rather  than  on  a  man. 

Long.     Your  honor   may  best  speak  this  ;   yet  with 

little  safety,  if  I  thought  it  serious. 

Ami.  Come,  you  are  a  verie  braggart,  and  you  have  given 
me  cause  to  tell  you  so  :  what  weakness  have  you  ever  seen 
in  me  to  prompt  your  self,  that  I  could  need  you  help  ;  or 
what  other  reason[s]  could  induce  you  to  it  ?  you  never  yet 
had  a  meals  meat  from  my  Table,  nor  as  I  remember  from 
my  Wardrop  any  cast  Suit. 

Lon.  'Tis  true,  I  never  durst  yet  have  such  a  servile  spirit, 
to  be  the  minion  of  a  full  swoln  Lord  ;  but  alwaies  did  detest 
such  slavery :  a  meals  meat,  or  a  cast  Suit  ?  I  wou'd  first  eat 
the  stones,  and  from  such  rags  the  dunghils  doe  afford,  pick 
me  a  garment. 

Ami.     I  have  mistook  the  man,  his  resolute  spirit 
Proclaimes  him  generous,  he  has  a  noble  heart 
As  free  to  utter  good  deeds  as  to  acl:  them  ; 
For  had  he  not  been  right,  and  of  one  piece, 
He  would  have  crumpled,  curled,  and  struck  himself 
Out  of  the  shape  of  man   into  a  shaddow. 
But  prethee  tell   me,   if  no  such  fawning  hope 
Did  lead  thee  on  to  hazard   life  for  my  sake  ; 
What  was  it  that  incited  thee  ? 
Tell  me ;    speak  it  without  the  imputation  of  a  Sycophant. 

Long.  Your  own  desert,  and  with  it  was  joyn'd  the 
unfained  friendship  that  I  judged  you  ever  held  unto  my 
former  Lord. 

Ami.     The  noble  Montague  ? 

Long.     Yes,  the  noble  and  much   injured  Montague. 

230 


Sc.  i  THE  HONEST  MAN'S  FORTUNE 

Ami.     To  such  a  man  as  thou  art,  my  heart  shall  be 
A  Casket  :    I  will  lock  thee  up  there, 
And  esteem  thee  as  a  faithfull  friend, 
The  richest  Jewell  that  a  man  enjoyes  ; 
And  being  thou  didst  follow  once  my  friend, 
And  in  thy  heart  still  dost,  not  with  his  fortunes  casting  him  off, 
Thou  shalt  go  hand  in  hand  with   me,  and  share 
As  well   in   my  ability  as  love  ;    'tis  not  my  end 
To  gain  men  for  my  use,  but  a  true  friend.  \_Exeunt. 

Enter  Duboys. 

Dub.     There's  no  such  thriving  way  to  live  in  grace, 
As  to  have  no  sence  of  it ;    his  back  nor  belly 
Shall  not  want  warming  that  can  practise  me  mischief ; 
I  walk  now  with  a  full  purse,  grow  high  and  wanton, 
Prune  and  briske  my  self  in  the  bright  shine 
Of  his  good  Lordships  favours ;    and  for  what  virtue  ? 
For  fashioning  my  self  a  murderer. 
O  noble  Montague^  to  whom  I  owe  my  heart, 
With  all  my  best  thoughts,  though  my  tongue  have  promis'd 
To  exceed  the  malice  of  thy  destiny, 
Never  in  time  of  all  my  service  knew  I 
Such  a  sin  tempt  thy  bounty  ;    those  that  did  feed 
Upon  thy  charge  had  merit  or  else  need. 

Enter  Laverdine,  and  La-poope,  with  disguises. 

Lav.     Duboys^  most  prosperously  met. 

Dub.     How  now  ?   will  he  come  this  way  ? 

La.  This  way,  immediately ;  therefore  thy  assistance, 
dear  Duboys. 

Dub.  What  have  you  cheated  him  of  the  money  you 
spoke  of? 

Lav.  Fough,  as  easily  as  a  silly  Countrey  wench  of  her 
maydenhead  ;  we  had  it  in  a  twinkling. 

Dub.  'Tis  well  Captain,  let  me  help  you,  you  must  be 
our  leader  in  this  action. 

La-p.  Tut,  fear  not,  I'll  warrant  you  if  my  Sword  hold, 
we'll  make  no  sweating  sickness  of  it. 

Dub.  Why  that's  well  said,  but  let's  retire  a  little,  that  we 
may  come  on  the  more  bravely ;  this  way,  this  way.  [Exeunt. 

231 


THE  HONEST  MAN'S  FORTUNE  ACT  n 


Enter  Montague  in   the  hands  of  three   Officers^ 
and  three   Creditors. 

I  Ore.  Officers  look  to  him,  and  be  sure  you  take  good 
security  before  he  part  from  you. 

Mont.  Why  but  my  friends,  you  take  a  strange  course 
with  me  ;  the  sums  I  owe  you  are  rather  forgetful  ness,  they 
are  so  slight,  than  want  of  will  or  honesty  to  pay  you. 

1  Grid.     I  Sir,  it  may  be  so  ;   but  we  must  be  paid,  and  we 
will  be  paid  before  you  scape  :   we  have  wife  and  children,  and 
a  charge,  and  you  are  going  down   the  wind,  as  a  man  may 
say  ;   and  therefore  it  behooves  us  to  look  to't  in  time. 

2  Cred.     Your   cloak  here  wou'd  satisfie  me,   mine's   not 
above  a  three  pound  matter,  besides  the  arrest. 

3  Cred.     'Faith  and  mine  is  much  about  that  matter  too  ; 
your  Girdle  and  Hangers,  and  your  Beaver,  shall  be  sufficient 
bail  for't. 

i  Cred.  If  you  have  ever  a  plain  black  sute  at  home,  this 
Silken  one,  with  your  Silke-stockings,  Garters,  and  Roses  shall 
pacific  me  too  ;  for  I  take  no  delight,  if  I  have  a  sufficient 
pawn,  to  cast  any  Gentleman  in  prison  ;  therefore  'tis  but  an 
untrussing  matter  :  and  you  are  free,  we  are  no  unreasonable 
creatures  you  see  ;  for  mine  own  part,  I  protest  I  am  loth  to 
put  you  to  any  trouble  for  security. 

Mont.  Is  there  no  more  of  you  ?  he  wou'd  next  demand 
my  skin. 

I  Cred.  No  Sir,  here's  no  more  of  us,  nor  do  any  of  us 
demand  your  skin,  we  know  not  what  to  do  with  it  :  but  it 
may  be  if  you  ow'd  your  Glover  any  money,  he  knew  what 
use  to  make  of  it. 

Mont.     Ye  dregs  of  baseness,  vultures  amongst  men, 
That  tyre  upon  the  hearts  of  generous  spirits. 

I  Cred.  You  do  us  wrong  Sir,  we  tyre  no  generous  spirits, 
we  tyre  nothing  but  our  hackneys. 

Enter  Mallicorne. 

Mont.     But  here  comes  one  made  of  another  piece  ; 
A  man   well  meriting  that  free   born  name 
Of  Citizen  ;    welcome  my  deliverer,  I  am  falen 
Into  the  hands  of  blood-hounds,  that  for  a  sum 

232 


Sc.  i  THE  HONEST  MAN'S  FORTUNE 

Lesser  than   their  honesties,  which  is  nothing, 
Wou'd  tear  me  out  of  my  skin. 

Mai.     Why  Sir,  what's  the  matter  ? 

i  Ore.  Why  Sir  the  matter  is,  that  we  must  have  our 
money,  which  if  we  cannot  have,  we'll  satisfie  our  selves  with 
his  carcass,  and  be  payd  that  wayes  :  you  had  as  good  Sir,  not 
have  been  so  peremptory.  Officer,  hold  fast. 

i  Off..  The  strenuous  fist  of  vengeance  now  is  clutcht  ; 
therefore  fear  nothing. 

Mai.     What  may  be  the  debt  in  gross  ? 

Mont.  Some  forty  Crowns,  nay  rather  not  so  much,  'tis 
quickly  cast. 

Mai.  'Tis  strange  to  me,  that  your  estate  shou'd  have  so 
low  an  ebb,  to  stick  at  such  sleight  sums :  why  my  friends, 
you  are  too  stricl  in  your  accounts,  and  call  too  sudden  on 
this  Gentleman,  he  has  hopes  left  yet  to  pay  you  all. 

i  Cred.  Hopes  ?  I  marry ;  bid  him  pay  his  friends  with 
hopes,  and  pay  us  with  currant  Coyn  :  I  knew  a  gallant  once 
that  fed  his  creditors  still  with  hopes,  and  bid  'em  they  shou'd 
fear  nothing,  for  he  had  'em  tyed  in  a  string  ;  and  trust  me  so 
he  had  indeed,  for  at  last  he  and  all  his  hopes  hopt  in  a  halter. 

Mont.  Good  Sir,  with  what  speed  you  may,  free  me  out 
of  the  company  of  these  slaves,  that  have  nothing  but  their 
names  to  show  'em  men. 

Mai.  What  wou'd  you  wish  me  do  Sir  ?  I  protest  I  ha' 
not  the  present  sum  (small  as  it  is)  to  lay  down  for  you  ;  and 
for  giving  my  word,  my  friends  no  later  than  yesternight  made 
me  take  bread  and  eat  it,  that  I  shou'd  not  do  it  for  any  man 
breathing  i'th'  world  ;  therefore  I  pray  hold  me  excused. 

Mont.      You  do  not  speak  this  seriously  ? 

Mai.     As  ever  I  said  my  prayers,  I  protest  to  you. 

Mont.     What  may  I  think  of  this  ? 

Mai.  Troth  Sir  thought  is  free  for  any  man  ;  we  abuse 
our  betters  in  it,  I  have  done  it  my  self. 

Mont.  Trust  me,  this  speech  of  yours  doth  much  amaze 
me  ;  pray  leave  this  language,  and  out  of  that  same  sum  you 
lately  did  receive  of  me,  lay  down  as  much  as  may  discharge 
me. 

Mai.  You  are  a  merry  man  Sir,  and  I  am  glad  you  take 
your  crosses  so  temperately ;  fare  you  well  Sir,  and  yet  I  have 

233 


THE  HONEST  MAN'S  FORTUNE  ACT  H 

something  more  to  say  to  ye,  a  word  in  your  ear  I  pray;  to 
be  plain  with  you  I  did  lay  this  plot  to  arrest  you  to  enjoy 
this  money  I  have  of  yours,  with  the  more  safety.  I  am  a  fool 
to  tel[l]  you  this  now ;  but  in  good  faith  I  could  not  keep  it  in. 
And  the  money  wou'd  a  done  me  little  good  else.  An  honest 
Citizen  cannot  wholly  enjoy  his  own  wife  for  you,  they  grow 
old  before  they  have  true  use  of  them,  which  is  a  lamentable 
thing,  and  truely  much  hardens  the  hearts  of  us  Citizens  against 
you  :  I  can  say  no  more,  but  am  heartily  sorry  for  your  heavi- 
ness, and  so  I  take  my  leave.  [Exit  Mallycorne. 
I  Cred.  Officers  take  hold  on  him  again,  for  Mounsier 
Mallycorne  will  do  nothing  for  him  I  perceive. 

Enter  Duboys,  Lapoope,  and  Lav er dine. 

Dub.  Nay  come  my  masters,  leave  dancing  of  the  old 
measures,  and  let's  assault  him  bravely. 

Lav.  By  no  means ;  for  it  goes  against  my  stomach  to 
kill  a  man  in  an  unjust  quarrell. 

La-p.  It  must  needs  be  a  clog  to  a  mans  conscience  all 
his  life  time. 

Lav.  It  must  indeed  Captain  :  besides  doe  ye  not  see  he 
has  gotten  a  guard  of  friends  about  him,  as  if  he  had  some 
knowledge  of  our  purpose  ? 

Dub.  Had  he  a  guard  of  Devils,  as  I  think  them  little 
better,  my  Sword  should  doe  the  message  that  it  came  for. 

Lav.  If  you  will  be  so  desperate,  the  blood  lie  upon  your 
own  neck,  for  we'll  not  meddle  in't. 

Duboys  runs  upon  Montague,  and  strugling  yields  him  his 
Sword ;  the  Officers  draw,  Laverdine  and  La-poope  in 
the  scuffling  retire,  Montague  chaseth  them  off  the  Stage, 
himself  wounded. 

Dub.     I  am  your  friend  and  servant. 
Struggle  with  me  and  take  my  Sword  ; 
Noble  Sir,  make  your  way,  you  have  slain  an  Officer. 

Mont.     Some  one  of  them  has  certainly 
Requited  me  ;    for  I  doe  lose  much  blood. 

1  Offic.     Udsprecious,  we  have  lost  a  brother,  pursue  the 
Gentleman. 

2  Offic.     I'll  not  meddle  with  him  :  you  see  what  comes 
on't ;  besides  I  know  he  will  be  hang'd  ere  he  be  taken. 

234 


ACT  m  THE  HONEST  MAN'S  FORTUNE 

I  Offic.  I  tell  thee  yeoman  he  must  be  taken  ere  he  be 
hanged  ;  he  is  hurt  in  the  guts,  run  afore  therefore  and  know 
how  his  wife  will  rate  his  Sawsages  a  pound. 

3  Offic.  Stay  brother,  I  may  live,  for  surely  I  find  I'm  but 
hurt  in  the  leg,  a  dangerous  kick  on  the  shin-bone.  [Exeunt. 

A5lus    Tertius.     Scczna    Prima. 

Enter  Madam  Larnira,  Madam  le  Orleans,  feramour. 

Lam.  "\7"OU  see  Lady 

j[     What  harmless  sports  ou[r]  Countrey  life  affords  ; 
And  though  you  meet  not  here  with  City  dainties, 
Or  Courtly  entertainment,  what  you  have 
Is  free  and  hearty. 

L.  Orl.     Madam,  I  find  here 
What  is  a  stranger  to  the  Court,  content, 
And  receive  curtesies  done  for  themselves, 
Without  an  expectation  of  return, 
Which  binds  me  to  your  service. 

Lam.     Oh  your  love  ; 

My  homely  house  built  more  for  use  than  shew 
Observes  the  Golden  mean  equally  distant 
From  glittering  pomp,  and  sordid  avarice  ; 
For  Maskes,  we  will  observe  the  works  of  nature, 
And  in  the  place  of  visitation,  read  : 
Our  Physick  shall  be  wholsome  walks,  our  viands, 
Nourishing,  not  provoking  :    for  I  find 
Pleasures  are  tortures  that  leave  stings  behind. 

L.  Orl.     You  have  a  great  estate. 

Lam.     A  competency 
Sufficient  to  maintain  me  and  my  rank, 
Nor  am   I,  I   thank  Heaven,  so  Courtly  bred 
As  to  imploy  the  utmost  of  my  Rents 
In  paying  Tailors  for  phantastick  Robes ; 
Or  rather  than  be  second  in  the  fashion, 
Eat  out  my   Officers  and  my   Revenues 
With  grating  usury  ;    my  back  shall  not 
Be  the  base  on  which  your  soothing  Citizen 
Erects  his  Summer-houses  ;    nor  on  th'  other  side 

235 


THE  HONEST  MAN'S  FORTUNE    ACT  in 

Will  I  be  so  penuriously  wise, 
As  to  make  money  (that's  my  slave)  my   Idoll, 
Which   yet  to  wrong,   merits  as  much   reproof, 
As  to  abuse  our  servant. 

L.  Or/.     Yet  with   your  pardon 
I   think  you  want  the  Crown  of  all  contentment. 

Lam.     In  what  good  Madam  ? 

L.  Or/.     In  a  worthy   husband. 

Lam.  -        -  It  is  strange  the  galley-slave  should  praise 
His  Oar,  or  stroaks  ;    or  you,  that  have  made  shipwrack 
Of  all  delight  upon   this  Rock,  cal'd  marriage, 
Should  sing  Encomions  on't. 

L.  Or/.     Madam,  though  one  fall 
From  his  horse  and  break  his  neck,  will  you 
Conclude  from   that  it  is  unfit  to  ride  ? 
Or  must  it  follow,  because   Orleans 
My  Lord's  pleased  to  make  his  passionate  triall 
Of  my  suspected  patience,  that  my  brother, 
(Were  he  not  so,  I  might  say,  worthy  Amiens] 
Will  imitate   his  ills,  that  cannot  fancy 
What's  truely  Noble  in   him  ? 

Lam.     I  must  grant 

There's  as  much  worth  in  him  as  can  be  lookt  for 
From  a  young  Lord,  but  not  enough  to  make 
Me  change  my  golden  liberty  and  consent 
To  be  a  servant  to  it,  as  wives  are 
To  the  Imperious  humors  of  their  Lords  : 
Me  thinks  I'm  well,  I  rise  and  goe  to  bed 
When  I  think  fit,  eat  what  my  appetite 
Desires  without  controle,  my  servants  study 
Is  my  contentment,  and  to  make  me  merry 
Their  farthest  ayms ;    my  sleeps  are  enquired  after, 
My  rising  up  saluted  with  respecl:  : 
Command  and  liberty  now  wait  upon 
My  Virgin  state  ;    what  would  I  more  ;    change  all, 
And   for  a  husband  ?    no  ;    these  freedoms  die, 
In  which  they  live  with  my  Virginity; 
'Tis  in   their  choice  that's  rich  to  be  a  wife, 
But  not  being  yoakt  to  chuse  the  single  life. 

Ver.     Madam. 

236 


Sc.  i   THE  HONEST  MAN'S  FORTUNE 

Lam.     How  like  you  the  Countrey  ? 

Ver.  I  like  the  ayr  of  it  well  Madam,  and  the  rather  be- 
cause, as  on  Irish  Timber  your  Spider  will  not  make  his  web, 
so  for  ought  I  see  yet  your  Cheater,  Pander,  and  Informer 
being  in  their  dispositions  too  foggy  for  this  piercing  climate, 
shun  it,  and  chose  rather  to  walk  in  mists  in  the  City. 

Lam.     Who  did  you  serve  first  boy  ? 

^er.  A  rich  Merchants  widow,  and  was  by  her  preferred 
to  a  young  Court-Lady. 

L.  Or!.    And  what  difference  found  you  in  their  service  ? 

Ver.  Very  much  :  for  look  how  much  my  old  City  Madam 
gave  to  her  young  visitants,  so  much  my  Lady  received  from 
her  hoary  Court-servants. 

Lam.     And  what  made  you  to  leave  her  ? 

Per.  My  father  (Madam)  had  a  desire  to  have  me  a  tall- 
man,  took  me  from  thence. 

Lam.  Well,  I  perceive  you  inherit  the  wag,  from  your 
father. 

Per.  Doves  beget  Doves ;  and  Eagles,  Eagles,  Madam  : 
A  Citizen  here,  tho  left  never  so  rich,  seldome  at  the  best 
proves  a  Gentleman  :  the  son  of  an  Advocate,  tho  dub'd  like 
his  father,  will  shew  a  relish  of  his  descent,  and  the  fathers 
thriving  practice,  as  I  have  heard  :  she  that  of  a  Chambermayd 
is  metamorphosed  into  a  Madam,  will  yet  remember  how  oft 
her  daughter  by  her  mother  ventured  to  lie  upon  the  rushes 
before  she  could  get  in  that  which  makes  many  Ladyes. 

L.  Or/.     But  what  think  you  of  your  late  Master  ? 

Per.     Oh  Madam —  [Sighs. 

Lam.  Why  doe  you  sigh  ?  you  are  sorry  that  you  left  him, 
He  made  a  wanton  of  you. 

Ver.     Not  for  that  : 

Or  if  he  did,  for  that  my  youth  must  love  him. 
Oh  pardon  me,  if  I  say  liberty 
Is  bondage,  if  compar'd  with  his  kind  service  ; 
And  but  to  have  power  now  to  speak  his  worth 
To  its  desert ;    I  should  be  well  content 
To  be  an  old  man  when  his  praise  were  ended  : 
And  yet,  if  at  this  instant  you  were  pleased, 
I  should  begin,  the  livery  of  age 
Would  take  his  lodging  upon  this  head 

237 


THE  HONEST  MAN'S  FORTUNE  ACT  in 

Ere  I  should  bring  it  to  a  period. 

In   brief  he   is  a  man   (for  [God]   forbid 

That  I  should  ever  live  to  say   he  was 

Of  such  a  shape  as  would   make  one  beloved, 

That  never  had  good   thought  ;)    and  to  his  body 

He  hath  a  mind  of  such  a  constant  temper 

In   which   virtues  throng  to  have  a  room  : 

Yet  'gainst  this  noble  Gentleman,  this  Montague^ 

For  in  that  name  I  comprehend  all  goodness, 

Wrong,  and  the  wrested  law,  false  witnesses, 

And  envy  sent  from  hell,  have  rose  in   Armes, 

And  though  not  pierc'd,  batter'd  his  honor'd  shield. 

What  shall  I  say  ?    I  hope  you  will  forgive  me, 

That  if  you  were  but  pleas'd  to  love, 

I  know  no   Juno  worthy  such  a  Jove. 

Enter  Chariot  with  a  letter. 

» 

Lam.    'Tis  well  yet  that  I  have  the  second  place 
In  your  affeclion  :    From  whence  ? 

Charl.     From  the  Lord  Amiens^  Madam. 

Lam.    'Tis  wellcome,  though  it  bear  his  usual  language : 
I  thought  so  much,  his  love-suit  speaks  his  health. 
What's  he  that  brought  it  ? 

Charl.     A  Gentleman  of  good  rank,  it  seems. 

Lam.     Where  is  he  ? 

Charl.     Receiving  entertainment  in  your  house 
Sorting  with  his  degree. 

Lam.     'Tis  well. 

Charl.     He  waits  your  Ladyships  pleasure. 

Lam.     He  shall  not  wait  long  : 
I'll  leave  you  for  a  while  ;    nay  stay  you  boy, 
Attend  the  Lady.  [Exeunt  Lam.  Charl. 

Vir.    Would  I  might  live  once 
To  wait  on  my  poor  Master. 

L.  Or/.     That's  a  good  boy : 
This  thankfulness  looks  lovely  on  thy  forehead, 
And  in  it,  as  a  book,  me  thinks  I  read 
Instruclions  for  my  self,  that  am  his  debtor, 
And  wou'd  do  much  that  I  might  be  so  happy 
To  repair  that  which  to  our  grief  is  ruin'd. 

238 


Sc.  i  THE  HONEST  MAN'S  FORTUNE 

Vir.     It  were  a  work  a  King  might  glory  in, 
If  he  saw  with  my  eyes  :    If  you  please  Madam, 
For  sure  to  me  you  seem  unapt  to  walk, 
To  sit,  although  the  churlish  Birds  deny 
To  give  us  musick  in  this  grove,  where  they 
Are  prodigall  to  others  :    I'll  strain  my  voyce 
For  a  sad  Song,  the  place  is  safe  and  private. 

L.  Or  I.    'Twas  my  desire  ;    begin  good   Pir  amour. 

Mustek,  a  Song,  at  the  end  of  it  enter  Montague^ 
fainting^  his  Sword  drawn. 

L.  Or/.     What's  he   Viramour  ? 

Vir.     A  goodly  personage. 

Mont.     Am  I  yet  safe  ?    or  is  my  flight  a  dream  ? 
My  wounds  and  hunger  tell  me  that  I  wake  : 
Whither  have  my  fears  born  me  ?    no  matter  where, 
Who  hath  no  place  to  goe  to,  cannot  err  : 
What  shall  I  do  ?   cunning  calamity  ! 
That  others  gross  wits  uses  to  refine, 
When  I  most  need  it  duls  the  edg  of  mine. 

L.  Or  I.     Is  not  this  Montagues  voyce  ? 

Vir.     My  Masters  ?    fie. 

Mont.    What  sound  was  that,  'pish, 
Fear  makes  the  wretch  think  every  leaf  oth'  Jury : 
What  course  to  live,  'beg  ?    better  men  have  done  it, 
But  in  another  kind  :    steal  ?    Alexander 
Though  stil'd  a  Conqueror,  was  a  proud  thief, 
Though  he  rob'd  with  an  Army  ;    fie  how  idle 
These  meditations  are  :    though  thou  art  worse 
Than  sorrows  tongue  can  speak  thee,  thou  art  still, 
Or  shouldst  be,   honest  Montague. 

L.  Or!.    'Tis  too  true.  (flesh 

Vir.     'Tis  he  :   what  villains  hands  did  this  ?  oh  that  my 
Were  Balm  ;    in  faith  Sir,  I  would  pluck  it  off 
As  readily  as  this  ;    pray  you  accept 
My  will  to  do  you  service  :    I  have  heard 
The  Mouse  once  sav'd  the  Lyon  in  his  need, 
As  the  poor  Scarab  spild  the  Eagles  seed. 

L.  Or  I.     How  do  you  ? 

Mont.     As  a  forsaken  man. 

239 


THE  HONEST  MAN'S  FORTUNE  ACT  in 

L.  Or/.     Do  not  say  so,  take  comfort, 
For  your  misfortunes  have  been  kind   in  this, 
To  cast  you  on  a  hospitable  shoar, 
Where  dwels  a  Lady — 

Fir.     She  to  whom,  good  Master, 
You  prefer'd  me. 

L.  Or/.     In  whose  house,  whatsoere 
Your  dangers  are,   I'll  undertake  your  safety. 

Mont.     I   fear  that  I  am  pursued,  and  doubt  that  I, 
In  my  defence  have  kild  an  Officer. 

Fir.     Is  that  all  ?    there's  no  law  under  the  Sun 
But  will  I  hope  confess,  one  drop  of  blood 
Shed  from  this  arme   is  recompence  enough 
Though  you  had  cut  the  throats  of  all  the  Catchpoles 
In  France,  nay  in  the  world. 

Mont.     I  would   be  loth 
To  be  a  burthen,  or  feed  like  a  drone 
On  the  industrious  labor  of  a  Bee, 
And  baser  far  I  hold  it  to  owe  for 
The  bread  I  eat,  what's  not  in  me  to  pay ; 
Then  since  my  full  fortunes  are  declin'd, 
To  their  low  ebb  I'll  fashion  my  high  mind. 
It  was  no  shame  to   Hecuba,  to  serve 
When  Troy  was  fir'd  :    if't  be  in  your  power 
To  be  a  means  to  make  her  entertainment, 
And  far  from  that  I  was  ;    but  to  supply 
My  want  with  habit  fit  for  him  that  serves, 
I  shall  owe  much  to  you. 

L.  Or/.     Leave  that  care  to  me. 

Fir.  Good  Sir,  lean  on  my  shoulder  ;  help  good  Madam  : 
oh  that  I  were  a  horse  for  half  an  hour,  that  I  might  carry  you 
home  on  my  back :  I  hope  you  w[i]ll  love  me  still  ? 

Mont.     Thou  dost  deserve  it  boy,  that  I  should  live 
To  be  thus  troublesome. 

L.  Or/.     Good  Sir,  'tis  none. 

Fir.     Trouble  ?    most  willingly  I  would  be  chang'd 
Like  Apuleius,  weare  his  Asses  ears, 
Provided  I  might  still  this  burthen  bear. 
L.  Or/.    'Tis  a  kind  boy. 
Mont.     I  find  true  proof  of  it.  [Exeunt. 

240 


Sc.  i  THE  HONEST  MAN'S  FORTUNE 

Enter  Amiens^  and  Longeville,  with  a  Paper. 

Ami.     You'll  carry  it. 

Long.  As  I  live  although  my  packet  were  like  Bellerophon's^ 
what  have  you  seen  in  me  or  my  behavior  since  your  favors 
so  plentifully  showr'd  upon  my  wants,  that  may  beget  distrust 
of  my  p[er]formance  ? 

Ami.     Nay,  be  not  angry,  if  I  entertained 
But  the  least  scruple  of  your  love,  or  courage, 
I  would  make  choyce  of  one  which  my  estate 
Should  do  me  right  in  this,  nor  can  you  blame  me 
If  in  a  matter  of  such  consequence 
I  am  so  importunate. 

Long.     Good  my  Lord  let  me  prevent  your  farther  con- 
jurations 

To  rayse  my  spirit,  I  know  this  is  a  challenge 
To  be  delivered  unto  Orlean[i\e  hand; 
And  that  my  undertaking  ends  net  there, 
But  I  must  be  your  second,  and  in  that 
Not  alone  search  your  enemy,  measure  weapons, 
But  stand  in  all  your  hazards,  as  our  blouds 
Ran  in  the  self-same  veins,  in  which  if  I 
Better  not  your  opinion,  as  a  limb 
That's  putrifi'd  and  useless,  cut  me  off, 
And  underneath  the  Gallows  bury  it. 

Ami.     At  full  you  understand  me,  and  in  this 
Bind  me,  and  what's  mine  to  you  and  yours, 
I  will  not  so  much  wrong  you  as  to  add 
One  syllable  more,  let  it  suffice  I  leave 
My  honor  to  your  guard  :    and  in  that  prove, 
You  hold  the  first  place  in  my  heart  and  love.          [Ex.  Ami. 

Long.  The  first  place  in  a  Lords  affection  ?  very  good  ; 
and  how  long  doth  that  last  ?  perhaps  the  changing  of  some 
three  shirts  in  the  Tennis-Court ;  well,  it  were  very  necessary 
that  an  order  were  taken  (if  it  were  possible,)  that  younger 
brothers  might  have  more  wit,  or  more  money :  for  now,  how- 
ever the  fool  hath  long  been  put  upon  him  that  inherits,  his 
revenue  hath  bought  him  a  spunge,  and  wip't  off  the  imputa- 
tion, and  for  the  understanding  of  the  younger,  let  him  get  as 
much  Rhetorick  as  he  can,  to  grace  his  language. 

B.-F.    X.  Q  241 


THE  HONEST  MAN'S  FORTUNE    ACT  in 


Enter  Dubois. 

They  will  see,  he  shall  have  gloss  little  enough  to  set  out  his 
Bark  ;  stand  Dubois,  look  about,  's  all  safe  ? 

Dub.     Approach   not  near  me  but  with   reverence 
Lawrel    and    adorations,   I   have   done   more   than    deserves    a 
hundred  thanks. 

Long.     How  now,  what's  the  matter  ? 

Dub.    With  this  hand,  only  aided  by  this  brain, 
Without  an   Orpheus  Harp  redeem'd  from   Hells 
Three  headed  Porter,  our  Euridice. 

Long.  Nay,  prethee  speak  sence,  this  is  like  the  stale 
bragart  in  a  Play. 

Dub.  Then  in  plain  Prose  thus,  and  with  as  little  aftion 
as  thou  canst  desire,  the  three  headed  Porter,  were  three  un- 
exorable  Catch-poles,  out  of  whose  jaws  without  the  help  of 
Orpheus  Harp,  bait  or  bribe  ;  for  those  two  strings  make  the 
Musick,  that  molifies  those  flinty  furies,  I  rescued  our  Euridice, 
I  mean  my  old  Master  Montague. 

Long.  And  is  this  all  ?  a  poor  rescue  ;  I  thought  thou 
hadst  revers'd  the  judgement  for  his  overthrow  in  his  sute, 
or  wrought  upon  his  adversary  Orleance,  taken  the  shape  of 
a  Ghost,  frighted  his  mind  into  distraction,  and  for  the  ap- 
peasing of  his  conscience,  forc'd  him  to  make  restitution  of 
Montague'' s  Lands,  or  such  like  rescue  ;  S'light  I  would  have 
hired  Acrocheture  for  two  Cardekues,  to  have  done  so  much 
with  his  whip. 

Dub.  You  wood  Sir,  and  yet  'tis  more  than  three  on  their 
foot-cloaths  durst  do  for  a  sworn  Brother,  in  a  Coach. 

Long.  Besides,  what  proof's  of  it  ?  for  ought  I  know,  this 
may  be  a  trick,  I  had  rather  have  him  a  prisoner,  where  I 
might  visit  him,  and  do  him  service,  than  not  at  all,  or  I  know 
not  where. 

Dub.  Well  Sir,  the  end  will  shew  it,  what's  that,  a  chal- 
lenge ? 

Long.  Yes,  where's  Orleance  ?  though  we  fight  in  jest,  he 
must  meet  with  Amiens  in  earnest, — fall  off,  we  are  discovered  ; 
my  horse  garson  ;  ha  ! 

Dub.    Were  it  not  in  a  house,  and  in  his  presence, 
To  whom  I  owe  all  duty-  - 

242 


Sc.  i  THE  HONEST  MAN'S  FORTUNE 

Long.  What  would  it  do  ?  prate  as  it  does  ?  but  be  as  far 
from  striking,  as  he  that  owes  it  Orleance. 

Dub.     How  ? 

Long.     I  think  thou  art  his  Porter, 
Set  here  to  answer  creditors,  that  his  Lordship 
Is  not  within,  or  takes  the  diet  :    I  am  sent, 
And  will  grow  here  until  I  have  an  answer, 
Not  to  demand  a  debt  of  money,  but 
To  call  him  to  a  strict  account  for  wrong 
Done  to  the  honors  of  a  Gentleman, 
Which  nothing  but  his  heart-bloud  shall  wash  off. 

Dub.     Shall  I  hear  this? 

Long.     And  more,  that .  if  [I]  may  not 
Have  access  to  him,  I  will  fix  this  here 
To  his  disgrace  and  thine. 

Dub.     And  thy  life  with  it. 

Long.     Then  have  the  copies  of  it  pasted  on  posts, 
Like  Pamphlet  Titles,  that  sue  to  be  sold  ; 
Have  his  disgrace  talk  for  Tobacco-shops, 
His  picture  baffled. 

Dub.     All  respect  away,  wer't  in  a  Church —    [draw  both. 

Long.     This  is  the  Book  I  pray  with. 

Enter  Or/eance. 

Or/.     Forbear  upon  your  lives. 

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

Dub.     If  he  does,  thou  deserv'st  it. 

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

Or/.     That  thou  hast  done  to  Amiens 
The  office  of  a  faithful  friend,  which  I 
Would  cherish  in  thee,  were  he  not  my  foe, 
How  ever  since  on  honourable  terms 
He  calls  me  forth,  say  I   will  meet  with  him, 

Q  2  243 


THE  HONEST  MAN'S  FORTUNE  ACT  in 

And  by  Dubols  e'r  Sun-set  make  him  know 

The  time  and  place,  my  swords  length,  and   what  ever 

Scruple  of  circumstance  he  can  expect. 

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

Or/.     Now  comes  thy  love  to  the  test. 

Dub.     My  Lord,  'twill  hold, 
And  in  all  dangers  prove   it  self  true  Gold.  [Exeunt. 

Enter  Laverdine,   La-poop,   Malicorn,  servant. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mai.  Would  you  have  a  Citizen  book  those  ?  thankful- 
ness is  a  thing,  we  are  not  sworn  to  in  our  Indentures  :  you 
may  as  well  urge  conscience. 

Lav.  Talk  no  more  of  such  vanities,  Mountague  is  irre- 
coverably sunk,  I  would  we  had  twenty  more  to  send  after 
him  ;  the  Snake  that  would  be  a  Dragon,  and  have  wings, 
must  eat  ;  and  what  implies  that,  but  this,  that  in  this 
Cannibal  age,  he  that  would  have  the  sute  of  wealth,  must 
not  care  whom  he  feeds  on  ?  and  as  I  have  heard,  no 

244 


Sc.  i  THE  HONEST  MAN'S  FORTUNE 

flesh  battens  better,  then  that  of  a  profest  friend  ;  and  he  that 
would  mount  to  honor,  must  not  make  dainty  to  use  the  head 
of  his  mother,  back  of  his  Father,  or  neck  of  his  Brother,  for 
ladders  to  his  preferment ;  for,  but  observe,  and  you  shall  find 
for  the  most  part,  cunning  villany  sit  at  a  Feast  as  principal 
guest,  and  innocent  honesty  wait  as  a  contemn'd  servant  with 
a  trencher. 

La-p.     The  Ladies. 

Enter  Montague  bare-beaded,  Lamira,  Lady 
Orleance,  Charlotte  a\n\d  V[e]ramour. 

Mont.     Do  ye  smell  nothing  ? 

Char.     Not  I   Sir. 

Mont.    The  carrion  of  knaves  is  very  strong  in  my  nostrils. 

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

Lam.     Tush  Sir,  this  Courtship's  old. 

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

Lam.     Good  man  of  War, 

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

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

Lam.     Be  mine  ;    I  apprehend  what  you  would  say, 
Those  dainties  which  the  City  pays  so  dear  for, 
The  Countrey  yields  for  nothing,  and  as  early  ; 
And,  credit  me,  your  far-fet  viands  please  not 
My  appetite  better  than  those  that  are  near  hand. 

245 


THE  HONEST  MAN'S  FORTUNE  ACT  in 

Then   for  your  promised  service  and  subjection 

To  all   my  humors,  when   I   am  your  wife, 

Which   [as]   it  seems,  is  frequent  in  the  City, 

I  cannot  find  what  pleasure  they  receive 

In  using  their  fond   Husbands  like  their  Maids  ; 

But  of  this,  more  hereafter  :    I  accept 

Your  proffer  kindly,  and  yours  ;    my  house  stands  open 

To  entertain  you,   take  your  pleasure  in   it, 

And  ease  after  your  journey. 

La.  Or/.     Do  you  note  the  boldness  of  the  fellows  ? 

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

[Exeunt  Lamira,  Lady  Orleance,  Vera.  and  Charl. 

La-p.     What  art  thou  ? 

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

Lav.     Rose  from  the  dead. 

Mai.  Do  you  hear  Monsieur  Serviture,  didst  thou  never 
hear  of  one  Montague,  a  prodigal  gull,  that  lives  about  Paris  ? 

Mont.     So  Sir. 

Lav.  One  that  after  the  loss  of  his  main  estate  in  a  Law- 
sute,  bought  an  Office  in  the  Court. 

La-p.  And  should  have  Letters  of  Mart,  to  have  the 
Spanish  treasure  as  it  came  from  the  Indies ;  were  not  thou 
and  he  twins  ?  put  off  thy  Hat,  let  me  see  thy  Fore-head. 

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

Enter  Lamira  behind  the  Arras. 

Lam.     I  will  observe  this  better. 

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

246 


Sc.  i  THE  HONEST  MAN'S  FORTUNE 

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

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

Mont.     All  this  I  can  endure  under  this  roof, 
And  so  much  owe  I  her,  whose  now  I  am, 
That  no  wrong  shall  incense  me  to  molest, 
Her  quiet  house,  while  you  continue  here, 

will  not  be  ashamed  to  do  you  service 
More  than   to  her,  because  such  is  her  pleasure. 
But  you  that  have  broke  thrice,  and  fourteen  times 
Compounded  for  two  shillings  in  the  pound, 
Know  I  dare  kick  you  in  your  shop  ;    do  you  hear  ? 
If  ever  I  see  Paris^  though  an  Army 
Of  musty  Murrions,  rusty  brown  Bills  and  Clubs, 
Stand  for  your  guard — I  have  heard  of  your  tricks, 
And  you  that  smell  of  Amber  at  my  charge, 
And  triumph  in  your  cheat ;    well,  I  may  live 
To  meet  thee,  be  it  among  a  troop  of  such 
That  are  upon  the  fair  face  of  the  Court 
Like  running  Ulcers,  and  before  thy  whore 
Trampel  upon  thee. 

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

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

[Lamira  from  the  Arras. 
I  would — but  foolish  anger  makes  me  talk 
Like  a  Player. 

Lam.     Indeed  you  aft  a  part 
Doth  ill  become  you  my  servant  ;    is  this  your  duty  ? 

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

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

Lam.    Why  sirrah,  these  are  none  of  your  comrades 
To  drink  with  in  the  Cellar  ;    one  of  them 


THE  HONEST  MAN'S  FORTUNE  ACT  in 

For  ought  you  know,   may  live  to  be  your  Master. 

La-p.     There's  some  comfort  yet. 

Lam.      Here's  choice  of  three,  a  wealthy  Merchant. 

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

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

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

Lam.     No  I'll  spare  that ;  go  bid  the  Cook  haste  supper. 

[Exit  Mont. 

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

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

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

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

Mai.     What  think  you  of  this  Captain  ? 

La-p.     That    this    is   a    bawdy-house,  with    Pinacles    and 

248 


Sc.  i  THE  HONEST  MAN'S  FORTUNE 

Turrets,  in  which  this  disguised  Montague  goes  to  Rut  gratis, 
and  that  this  is  a  landed  pandress,  and  makes  her  house  a 
brothel  for  charity. 

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

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

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

La-p.  Nay,  that's  true,  I  would  we  might  wooe  her  twenty 
years,  like  Penelopes  sutors  ;  come  Laverdine. 

[Exeunt  Malli.  La  Poop. 

Lav.     I  follow  instantly,  yonder  he  is. 

Enter  Viramor. 

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

f^er.     Your  pleasure,  Sir  ? 

Lav.     Thou  art  a  pretty  boy. 

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

Lav.     Nay,  prethee  stay. 

Ver.     I  am  in  haste,  Sir. 

Lav.     By  the  faith  of  a  Courtier. 

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

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

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

Lav.     Or  any  way :   then  thy  imployments  should  be  so 

249 


THE  HONEST  MAN'S  FORTUNE   ACT  iv 

neat  and  cleanly,  thou  shouldst  not  touch  a  pair  of  pan- 
tables  in  a  month,  and  thy  lodging — 

Vcr.     Should   be  in  a  brothel. 

Lav.     No,   but  in  mine  arms. 

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

Lav.     I  mean  thou  should'st  lye  with   me. 

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

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

Aftus   Quartus.     Sccena  Prima. 

Enter  Montague  alone  in  mean  habit. 

Mont.    "XT  Ow  Montague,  who  discerns  thy  spirit  now  ? 
±  \|    Thy  breeding,  or  thy  bloud-?  here's  a  poor  cloud 
Eclipseth  all  thy  splendor  ;    who  can  read 
In  thy  pale  face,  dead  eye,  or  lenten  shute, 
The  liberty  thy  ever-giving  -hand 
Hath  bought  for  others,  manacling  it  self 
In  gyves  of  parchment  indissoluble  ? 
The  greatest  hearted  man  supplyed  with  means, 
Nobility  of  birth  and  gentlest  parts, 
I  thought  the  right  hand  of  his  Sovereign, 
If  virtue  quit  her  seat  in  his  high  soul, 
Glitters  but  like  a  Palace  set  on  fire, 
Whose  glory  whilst  it  shines,  but  ruins  him, 
And  his  bright  show  each  hour  to  ashes  tending 
Shall  at  the  last  be  rakM  up  like  a  sparkle, 
Unless  mens  lives  and  fortunes  feed  the  flame. 
Not  for  my  own  wants,  though  blame  I  my  Stars, 
But  suffering  others  to  cast  love  on   me, 
When  I  can  neither  take,  nor  thankful  be. 

250 


Sc.  i  THE  HONEST  MAN'S  FORTUNE 

My  Ladies  woman,  fair  and  virtuous 

Young  as  the  present  month,  sollicites  me 

For  love  and  marriage  now  being  nothing  worth — 

Enter  Veramour. 

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

Mont.    Would  [God]  thou  wert  less  honest.  (w'e  Sir. 

Ver.    Would  to  [God]  you  were  less  worthy :  I  am  ev'n 

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

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

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

Ver.     I  will   follow  you  through  all  Countreys, 
I'll  run  (fast  as  I  can)  by  your  horse  side, 
I'll  hold  your  stirrop  when  you  do  alight, 
And  without  grudging,  wait  till  you  return  : 
I'll  quit  offer'd  means,  and  expose  my  self 
To  cold  and  hunger,  still  to  be  with   you  ; 
Fearless  I'll  travel  through  a  wilderness, 

251 


THE  HONEST  MAN'S  FORTUNE   ACT  iv 

And  when  you  are  weary,  I  will  lay  me  down 

That  in   my  bosom  you  may  rest  your  head, 

Where  whilst  you  sleep,  I'll  watch,  that  no  wild  beast 

Shall  hurt  or  trouble  you  :    and  thus  we'll   breed  a  story 

To  make  every  hearer  weep, 

When  they  disco[u]rse  our  fortunes  and  our  loves. 

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

Ver.     Curst  be  the  day  when  I  forget  that  Montague  was 
my  Lord,  or  not  remember  him  my  Master  still. 

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

Per.     Indeed  you  never  taught  me  how  to  handle  Cards 
To  cheat  and  cozen  men  with  oaths  and  lies  : 
Those  are  the  worldly  qualities  to  live  : 
Some  of  our  scarlet  Gallants  teach  their  boys 
These  worldly  qualities. 

Since  stumbling  fortune  then  leaves  virtue  thus 
Let  me  leave  fortune,  e'r  be  vicious. 

Mon.     Oh  lad,  thy  love  will  kill  me. 

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

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

252 


Sc.  i  THE  HONEST  MAN'S  FORTUNE 

Enter  Charlote. 

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

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

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

Mont.     Why  boy  ? 

Per.     Why  truly  she  devours  more  mans  flesh — 

Mont.     I,  but  she  roars  not  boy.  (is  full. 

Ver.     No  Sir,  why  she.  is  never  silent  but  when  her  mouth 

Chart.     Monsieur  Montague. 

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

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

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

Ver.    With  all  my  heart. 

Chart.    Why  dost  thou  pull  off  thy  Glove  ? 

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

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

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

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

Mont.     But  I  am  in  the  eclipse  now. 

Cha\_r~]t.  Suffer  himself  to  be  over-run  with  a  Lethargy  of 
melancholy  and  discontent  !  rouze  up  thy  spirit,  man,  and 
shake  it  off: 

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

253 


THE  HONEST  MAN'S  FORTUNE   ACT  iv 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mont.     How  your  example,  fairest,  teacheth  me 
A  ceremonious  Idolatry  !  [Kneels. 

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

Charl.     Of  spirit  ? 
Mont.     Yes,  could  I  tamely  live, 
Forget  my  Fathers  bloud,  wait,  and  make  legs, 
Stain  my  best  breeches,  with  the  servile  drops 
That  fall  from  others  draughts.  (spirit, 

Charl.     This    vizard    wherewith    thou    wouldst    hide    thy 
Is  perspective,  to  shew  it  plainlier. 

254 


Sc.  i  THE  HONEST  MAN'S  FORTUNE 

This  undervalue  of  thy  life,  is  but 

Because  I  should  not  buy  thee,  what  more  speaks 

Greatness  of  man,  than  valiant  patience, 

That  shrinks  not  under  his  fates  strongest  strokes  ? 

These  Roman  deaths,  as  falling  on  a  sword, 

Opening  of  veins,  with  poison  quenching  thirst, 

(Which  we  erroneously  do  stile  the  deeds 

Of  the  heroick  and  magnanimous  man) 

Was  dead-ey'd  cowardize,  and  white-cheek'd  fear, 

Who  doubting  tyranny,  and  fainting  under 

Fortunes  false  Lottery,  desperately  run 

To  death,  for  dread  of  death  ;    that  soul's  most  stout, 

That  bearing  all  mischance,  dares  last  it  out ; 

Will  you  perform  your  word,  and  marry  me, 

When  I  shall  call  you  to't  ? 

Enter  Longueville  with  a  riding-rod. 

Mont.     Ffaith  I  will. 

Chart.    Who's  this  alights  here  ? 

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

Chart.     Her  servant,  Sir. 

Long.     I  pray  then  favour  me,  to  inform  your  Lady,  and 
Duke  Orleans  wife, 

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

Charl.     Are  you  in  post,  Sir  ? 

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

Charl.     I  will  return,  Sweet.  [Exit. 

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

Mont.     Yes  Sir,  I  do. 

Long.     Ha,  dream'st  thou  Longaville  ?  sure  'tis  not  he :  Sir 
I  should  know  you. 

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

255 


THE  HONEST  MAN'S  FORTUNE   ACT  iv 

Long.     The  embroider  me  all  over,  Sir, 

If  ever  I  began  to  mock  you  yet. 

The  on   me,  why  should  I  wear  Velvet 

And  Silver  Lace  ?  I  will  tear  it  off. 

Mont.     Why  Mad-man  ? 

Long.     Put  on  my  Hat  ?  yes,  when  I  am  hang'd  I  will  : 

I  could  break  my   head. 

For  holding  eyes  that  knew  not  you  at  first  : 
But  time  and  fortune  run  your  courses  with  him, 
He'll  laugh  and  storm  you,  when  you  shew  most  hate. 

Enter  Lamira,  Orlean's  Lady,  Laverdine,   La  Poop, 
Malycorn,  Veramour,  Chariot. 

Lam.     You're  a  fair  Mounsieur. 

Long.     Do  you  mock  me,  Lady  ? 

Lam.     Your  business,  Sir,  I  mean. 

Lady.     Regard  your  self  good  Mounsieur  Longueville. 

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

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

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

La  Poop.     A  compliment. 

Mai.     And  of  manners. 

Pray  hide  your  head,  your  gallants  use  to  do't. 

Long.     And  you  your  foreheads,  why  you  needful  acces- 
sary rascals, 

That  cannot  live  without  your  mutual  knaveries, 
More  than  a  Bawd,  a  Pandor,  or  a  Whore 
From  one  another ;    how   dare  you  suspe6l 
That  I  stand  bare  to  you  ?    what  make  you  here  ? 
Shift  your  house,  Lady  of  'em,  for  I  know  'em, 
They  come  to  steal  Napkins,  and  your  Spoons  ; 
Look  to  your  Silver-bodkin,  (Gentlewoman) 
'Tis  a  dead    Utensil,  and  Page  'ware  your  pockets  ; 
My  reverence  is  unto  this  man,  my  Master, 
Whom  you,  with  protestations,  and  oaths 
As  high  as  Heaven,  as  deep  as  Hell,  which  would 
Deceive  the  wisest  man  of  honest  nature, 
Have  cozen'd  and  abus'd  ;    but  I  may  meet  you, 

256 


Sc.  i  THE  HONEST  MAN'S  FORTUNE 

And  beat  you  one  with  th'  other. 

Mont.     Peace,  no  more. 

Long.     Not  a  word,  Sir. 

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

La  poop.     I  hear  him,  but  regard  him  not. 

Mai.     Nor  I,  I  am  never  angry  fasting. 

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

Lady.     Oh  my  distracted  heart,  that  my  wrackt  honor 
Should  for  a  Brothers,  or  a  Husbands  life,  through   thy  un- 
doing, die. 

Lam.  Amiens  engaged  ;  if  he  miscarry  all  my  hopes  and 
I  now  confess  it  loudly,  are  undone  :  (j°ys> 

Caroch,  and  haste,  one  minute  may  betray 
A  life  more  worth  than  all  time  can  repay. 

[Exeunt  Ladies  and  Mont. 

Mai.  Hump  :  Monsieur  Laverdine  pursues  this  boy  ex- 
treamly,  Captain,  what  will  you  do  ? 

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

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

[Exeunt  Maly,  La-poop. 

Lav.     And  that  were  unkindly  done  i'faith. 
Per.      But  you  are  the  trou[b]lesomest  Ass  that  e'er  I  met 
with  ;   retire,  you  smell  like  a  womans  chamber,  that's  newly 
up,  before  she  have  pinsht  her  vapours  in  with  her  cloaths. 

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

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

B.-F.    X.  R  257 


THE  HONEST  MAN'S  FORTUNE  ACT  iv 

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

Ver.     Faith,  the  truth  is,  I  have  loved  you  long. 

Lav.     See,  see. 

Ver.     But  durst  not  open   it. 

Lav.     I  think  so. 

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

Lav.     Oh   Fortunatus,  I   envy  thee  not 
For  Cap,  or  pouch,  this  day  I'll  prove  my  Fortune, 
In  which  your  Lady  doth  elecl:  her  Husband, 
Who  will   [b]e  Amiens,  'twill  save   my  wedding  dinner, 
Povera,   La  Poop,  and  Ma  It  corn  :    if  all  fail, 
I   will  turn   Citizen,  a  beauteous  wife 
Is  the  Horn-book  to  the  richest  Tradesmans  life.       [Exeunt. 

Enter  Duboys,   Orleans,  Longueville,  Amiens,  two 
Lacques,  a  Page  with   two  Pistols. 

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

Or!.     Yes,  any  where  ;    Lacquey,  take  off  my  spurs  ; 
Upon  a  bridge,  a  rail,  but  my  swords  breadth  upon  a  battle- 
Til  fight  this  quarrel.  (ment, 

Dub.     O'  the  Ropes,  my  Lord. 

Or/.     Upon  a  Line. 

Dub.  So  all  our  Countrey  Duels  are  carried,  like  a  fire- 
work on  a  thred. 

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

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

Or/.     Then  give  warning. 

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


Sc.  i   THE  HONEST  MAN'S  FORTUNE 

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

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

Or/.     Your  Sister  Amiens,  is  a  whore,  at  once. 

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

Long.      My  Lord,  you'll  pardon  us. 

Dub.     I  trust  your  Lordships  may  not  do  us  that  affront. 

Ami.     As  how  ? 

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

Long.     My  Lord,  we  understand  our  selves. 

Dub.    We  have  had  the  honor  to  be  call'd  unto  the  busi- 
ness, and  we  must  not  now  quit  it  on  terms. 

Ami.     Not  terms  of  reason  ? 

Long.     No,  no  [rjeason  for  the  quitting  of  our  calling. 

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

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

\A  noise  within^  crying  down  with  your  swords, 
Nor  must  have  hope  how  to  requite  :    what  noise  ? 
What  cry  is  that  my  Lord  upon  your  guard  ? 
So[me]  treachery  is  a  foot. 

R2  259 


THE  HONEST  MAN'S  FORTUNE  ACT  iv 

Enter  Lady  Orleans,   Lamira,   Montague. 

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

Or/.      Out  loathed  strumpet. 

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

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

Ami.     Thou  shalt  have  strokes,  and  strokes,  thou  glorious 

man, 
Till  thou  breath'st  thinner  air  than  that  thou  talkest. 

Lam.     My  Lord,  Count  Amiens. 

Lady.     Princely  Husband. 

Or/.     Whore.  (the  bulk 

[Lam.~\     You  wrong  her  impudent  Lord  ;   oh  that  I  had 
Of  those  dull  men  ;    look  how  they  stand,  and  no  man 
Will  revenge  an  innocent  Lady. 

Ami.     You  hinder  it  Madam. 

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

Lady.     Kill  him,  Madam  ?   have  you  learn'd  that  bad  lan- 
guage ?    oh  repent, 
And  be  the  motive,  rather  both  kill  me. 

Or/.     Then  d[i]e  my  infamy. 

Mont.     Hold  bloody  man. 

Or/.     Art  thou  there  Basilisk? 

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

Dub.     Sweet  my  Lord. 

260 


Sc.  i   THE  HONEST  MAN'S  FORTUNE 

Or/.  Oh  here's  a  plot ;  you  bring  your  champions  with 
you  ;  the  adultress  with  the  adulterer  :  Out  howling— 

Dub.     Good  my  Lord. 

Or/.  Are  you  her  Graces  countenancer,  Lady,  the  receiver 
to  the  poor  vicious  couple. 

Dub.     Sweet  my  Lord. 

Or  I.  Sweet  rascal,  didst  not  tho[u]  tell  me,  false  fellow, 
This  Montague  here  was  murdered  ? 

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

Long.     Orleance  'tis   true,  and  shall  be  prov'd  upon  thee. 

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

Or/.  Yes,  do,  oh  !  flattery  becomes  him  better  than  the 
suit  he  wears  ;  give  him  a  new  one,  Amiens. 

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

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

Dub.     Yes  faith,  or  none. 

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

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

Long.     And  stick  'em  on  his  friends,  and  innocents. 

Dub.     And  practice  against  their  lives  after  their  fames. 

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

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

261 


THE  HONEST  MAN'S  FORTUNE  ACT  iv 

Ami.      Can   this  be  ? 

Lady.     They  do  slander  him. 

Or/.      Hang  them,  a  pair  of  railing  hangbies. 

Long.     How  ?  stand  Orleance ;  stay,  give  me  my  Pistols  boy, 

Hinder  me  not,   by 

I  will  kill  him. 

Lady.     Oh,  stay  his  fury. 

Ami.     Longueville,  my  friend. 

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

Ami.     Why  hear  me. 

Long.     For  justice  sake. 

Ami.     That  cannot  be. 

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

Ami.  Longueville,  I  did  not  think  you  a  murtherer  be- 
fore. 

Long.     I  care  not  what  you  thought  me. 

Ami.      By  If  thou  attempt 

His  life,  thy  own  is  forfeit. 

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

Lady.     Oh   [God]  ! 

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

Long.     No  matter,  shoot. 

Ami.     Villain. 

Dub.     My  Lord,  your  Sister  is  slain. 

Ami.      Biancha  ? 

Mont.     Oh  hapless,  and  most  wretched  chance,     (made? 

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

262 


Sc.  i   THE  HONEST  MAN'S  FORTUNE 

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

Ami.      Look  to  him  Montague.  (for  fear, 

Long.     My  Lords  and  Gentlemen,  the  Lady  is  well,  but 
Unless  that  have  shot  her  ; 

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

La[m\.      How   is  Byancha  ?    well  ? 

Ami.     Lives  she  ?    see  Sister,  doth  she  breathe  ? 

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

Dub.     Pardon  me,  Madam,  he  is  well. 

Lady.     Ha  my   Husband. 

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

Lam.     My  Lord,  such  sorrow  cannot  be  suspected  : 
Here  take  your  honoured  wife,  and  joyn  your  hands. 

She  hath  married  you  again  : 

263 


THE  HONEST  MAN'S  FORTUNE    ACT  v 

And  Gentlemen,  I   do  invite  you  all, 

This  night  to  take  my  house,  where  on   the  morrow, 

To  heighten   more  the  reconciling  feast, 

I'll  make  my  self  a  Husband  and  a  guest.  [Exeunt. 

Attus   Quintus.     Sccena   Prima. 

Enter  Montague,  and  Charlotte. 

Char!.    TT  7  Ell  now  I  am  sure  you  are  mine. 

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

Char.     You  are  a  merry  fellow. 

Mont.     I  have  no  great  cause. 

Char.     Yes,  thy  love  to  me. 

Mont.     That's  as  we  make  our  game. 

Char.     Why,  you  repent  then  ? 

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

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

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

Char.     You  have  pretty  fancies,  Sir,  but  married  once, 

264 


Sc.  i   THE  HONEST  MAN'S  FORTUNE 

This  charity  will  fall  home  to  your  self. 

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

Char.     Pretty. 

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

Char.     I  see  Sir,  a  great  deal  more,  a  handsome  man,  a 

Husband, 
To  make  a  right  good  woman  truly  happy. 

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

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

Enter  Lamira. 

Mont.     Peace  wench,  here's  my  Lady. 

Lam.     Nay,  never  shrink  i'th'  wetting,  for  my  presence ; 
D'ye  find  her  willing  Montague  ? 

Mont.     Willing  Madam? 

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

Mont.     Certain  Madam,  I  think  ye'ave  revelations  of  these 

matters : 
Your  Ladyship  cannot  tell  me  when  I  kist  her. 

Lam.     But  she  can,  Sir. 

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

Lam.     Thou  art  wanton. 

265 


THE  HONEST  MAN'S  FORTUNE    ACT  v 

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

Lam.     It  shall   be  mended  Montague,  I  am  glad  you  are 
grown  so  merry. 

Mont.     So  am  I  too  Madam. 

Lam.     You  two  will   make  a  pretty  handsome  Consort. 

Mont.     Yes  Madam,   if  my   Fiddle   fail  me  not. 

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

Mont.     Can  you   blame  me  ?    alas  I  am   in  love. 

Char.     'Tis  very  well,  Sir. 

Lam.     How  long  have  you  been   thus  ? 

Mont.      How  thus  in  love  ? 

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

Mont. — Ever  since  I  was  poor. 

Lam.     A  little  wealth  would  change  you  then  ? 

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

Lam.     You  are  finely  temper'd,  Montague. 

Mont.      Pardon    Lady,   if  any   way   my   free   mirth    have 

offended, 

'Twas  meant  to  please  you  :    if  it  prove  too  saucy, 
Give  it  a  frown,  and  I  am  ever  silenc'd. 

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

Mont.     If  I  be  not,  and  make  a  fool   of  twice  as  many 
Clap  me  in  Canvas,  Lady.  [Exeunt. 

266 


Sc.  i   THE  HONEST  MAN'S  FORTUNE 

Enter  La-poop,  Laverdine,  and  Malycorne. 

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

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

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

Mai.     Say  so  then. 

Lav.     Well. 

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

Mai.     I,  there's  the  point,  we  would  expecl:  good  eating. 

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

Lav.     You  say  true  Gentlemen,  and  by 

Though  I  love  meat  as  well  as  any  man, 

I  care  not  what  he  be,  if  a  eat  a  Gods  name  ; 

Such  a  crab-sauce  to  my  meat  will  turn  my  pallate. 

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

La-p.     I  feel  we  are  very  prone  that  way. 

Lav.     The  sons  of  Adam. 

La-p.     Now,   here  then   rests  the  state  o'th'  question  ; 
Whether  we  yield  our  bodies  for  a  dinner 

267 


THE  HONEST  MAN'S  FORTUNE    ACT  v 

To  a  sound  dog-whip,  for  I   promise  ye, 

If  men   be  given   to  correction, 

We  can  expert  no  less  ;    or  quietly 

Take  a  hard  Egg  or  two,  and  ten   mile  hence 

Bait   in  a  ditch,   this  we  may  do  securely  ; 

For,   to  stay  hereabout  will   be  all  one, 

If  once  our  moral  mischiefs  come   in   memory. 

Mai.     But  pray  ye  hear  me,   is  not  this  the  day 
The   Virgin   Lady  doth  elec~t  her  Husband  ? 

Lav.     The  dinner   is  to  that  end. 

Mai.  Very  well  then,  say  we  all  stay,  and  say  we  all 
scape  this  whipping,  and  be  well  entertained,  and  one  of  us 
carry  the  Lady.  (Sta7>  now  fitly 

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

Mai.  Yet  Women  go  not  by  the  best  parts  ever;  that 
I  have  found  direclly. 

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

La-p.     For  my  own  part  I  care  not,  come  what  can  come, 
If  I  be  whipt,   why  so  be  it ;    if  cudgell'd, 
I   hope  I  shall  out-live  it,  I  am  sure 
'Tis  not  the  hundredth  time  I  have  been  serv'd  so, 
And  yet  I  thank   [God]   I  am  here. 

Mai.     Here's  resolution. 

La-p.     A  little  patience,  and  a  rotten   Apple 

268 


Sc.  i   THE  HONEST  MAN'S  FORTUNE 

Cures  twenty  worse  diseases ;    what  say  you,  Sir  ? 

Lav.     Marry  I  say  Sir,   if  I  had  been  acquainted 
With  lamming  in   my  youth,  as  you  have  been 
With  whipping,  and  such  benefits  of  nature, 
I  should  do  better  :    as  I  am,   I'll  venture, 
And  if  it  be  my  luck  to  have  the  Lady, 
I'll  use  my  fortune  modestly  ;    if  beaten, 
You  shall  not  hear  a  word,  one  I  am  sure  of, 
And  if  the  worst  fall,  she  shall  be  my  Physick. 
Lets  go  then,  and  a  merry  wind  be  with  us. 

Mai.     Captain,  your  shooes  are  old,  pray  put  'em  off, 
And  let  one  fling  'em  after  us  ;    be  bold,  Sirs, 
And  howsoever  our  fortune  falls,  lets  bear 
An  equal  burden  ;    if  there  be  an  odd  lash, 
We'll  part  it  afterwards. 

La-p.     I  am  arm'd  at  all  points.  [Exeunt. 

Enter  four  serving  in  a  Banquet. 

1.  Then  my  Lady  will  have  a  bedfellow  to  night. 

2.  So    she    says  ;    Heaven  !  what  a  dainty  arm-full  shall 
he  enjoy,  that  has    the  launching  of  her,  what  a  fight  she'll 
make. 

3.  I  marry  boys,  there  will   be   sport   indeed,  there  will 
be  grapling,  she  has  a  murderer  lies  in  her  prow, 

I  am  afraid  will  fright  his  main  Mast,  Robin. 

4.  Who  dost  thou  think  shall  have  her  of  thy  conscience, 
thou  art  a  wise  man  ? 

3.     If  she  go  the  old  way,  the  way  of  lot,  the  longest 
cut  sweeps  all  without  question. 

1.  She  has  lost  a  friend  of  me  else  ;    what  think  ye  of 
the  Courtier  ? 

2.  Hang    him    Hedge-hog :    h'as   nothing  in   him  but   a 
piece  of  Eupkues,  and  twenty  dozen  of  twelvepenny  ribond, 
all  about   him,   he    is   but   one    Pedlers  shop    of   Gloves    and 
Garters,  pick-teeth  and  pomander. 

3.  The  Courtier,  marry  God  bless  her  Steven,  she  is  not 
mad  yet,  she  knows  that  trindle-tail  too  well,  he's  crestfall'n, 
and  pin-buttock't,  with  leaping  Landresses. 

4.  The  Merchant,  sure  she  will  not  be  so  base  to  have 
him. 

269 


THE  HONEST  MAN'S  FORTUNE   ACT  v 

1.  I  hope  so  Robin,  he'll  sell  us  all  to  the  Moors  to  make 
Mummy  ;   nor  the  Captain. 

4.  Who  Potgun  ?  that's  a  sweet  youth  indeed,  will  he 
stay,  think  ye  ? 

3.  Yes,  without  question,  and  have  halfe  din'd  too,  e'r 
the  Grace  be  done  ;  he's  good  for  nothing  in  the  world  but 
eating,  lying  and  sleeping ;  what  other  men  devour  in  drink, 
he  takes  in  potage,  they  say  h'as  been  at  Sea,  a  Herring- 
fishing,  for  without  doubt  he  dares  not  hale  an  Eel-boat  i'th' 
way  of  War. 

2.  I  think  so,  they  would  beat  him  off  with  Butter. 

3.  When  he  brings  in  a  prize,  unless  it  be  Cockles,  or 
Callis  sand  to  scour  with,  I'll  renounce  my  Five  Mark  a  year, 
and   all   the   hidden   Art   I    have   in    carving,  to   teach   young 
Birds  to  whistle  Wahingham  ;   leave  him  to  the  Lime-Boats ; 
now,  what  think  you  of  the  brave  Amiem  ? 

1.  That's  a  thought  indeed. 

2.  I  marry,  there's  a  person  fit  to  feed  upon   a  dish   so 
dainty,  and   he'll   do't   I   warrant   him   i'th'   nick  boys,  has  a 
body  world  without  end. 

4.  And  such  a  one  my  Lady  will  make  no  little  of;   but 
is  not  Montague  married  to  day  ? 

3.  Yes  faith,  honest  Montague  must  have  his  bout  too.1 

2.  He's  as  good  a  lad  as  ever  turn'd  a  trencher  ;    must 
we  leave  him  ? 

3.  He's  too  good  for  us,  Steven,  I'll  give  him  health  to 
his  good  luck  to  night  i'th'  old  Beaker,  and  it  shall  be  Sack 
too. 

4.  I  must  have  a  Garter  ;    and    boys   I   have   bespoke  a 
Posset,  some  body  shall  give  me  thanks  fort,  'tas  a  few  toys 
in't  will  rase  commotions  in  a  bed,  lad. 

I.      Away  ;    my  Lady.  [Exeunt. 

Enter  Orleance  and  his  Lady,  arm  in  arm,  Amiens,  Lamira, 
Charlotte,  like  a  Bride,  Montague  brave,  Laverdine, 
Longaville,  Dubois,  Mallycorn,  La-poop. 

Lam.     Seat  your  selves  noble  Lords  and  Gentlemen, 
You  know  your  places  ;    many  royal  welcomes 
I  give  your  Grace  ;    how  lovely  shews  this  change  ! 
My  house  is  honor'd  in  this  reconcilement. 

270 


Sc.  i   THE  HONEST  MAN'S  FORTUNE 

Or/.  Thus  Madam  must  you  do,  my  Lady  now  shall  see 
You  made  a  Woman  ; 

And  give  you  some  short  lessons  for  your  voyage. 
Take  her  instructions  Lady,  she  knows  much. 

Lam.     This  becomes  you,  Sir. 

/,[#].     My  Lord  must  have  his  Will. 

Or/.     'Tis  all  I  can  do  now,  sweet-heart,  fair  Lady  ; 
This  to  your  happy  choice,  brother  Amiens, 
You  are  the  man  I  mean  it  to. 

Ami.     I'll  pledge  you. 

Or/.     And  with  my  heart. 

Ami.     With  all  my  love  I  take  it. 

Lam.     Noble  Lords,  I  am  proud  ye  have  done  this  day, 
so    much    content,   and    me    such   estimation,   that   this   hour 
(In  this  poor  house)  shall  be  a  league  for  ever, 
For  so  I  know  ye  mean  it. 

Ami.     I  do  Lady. 

Or/.      And  I  my  Lord. 

Omnes.     Y'ave  done  a  work  of  honor. 

Ami.     Give  me  the  Cup,  where  this  health  stops,  let 
That  man  be  either  very  sick,  or  very  simple  ; 
Or  I   am  very  angry  ;    Sir,  to  you  ; 
Madam,  methinks  this  Gentleman  might  sit  too  ; 
He  would  become  the  best  on's. 

Or/.  Pray  sit  down,  Sir,  I  know  the  Lady  of  the  Feast 
experts  not  this  day  so  much  old  custom. 

Ami.     Sit  down  Montague ;  nay,  never  blush  for  the  matter. 

Mont.  Noble  Madam,  I  have  t[w]o  reasons  [a]gainst  it, 
and  I  dare  not ;  duty  to  you  first,  as  you  are  my  Lady,  and  I 
your  poorest  servant ;  next  the  custom  of  this  days  ceremony. 

Lam.     As  you  are  my  servant,  I  may  command  you  then. 

Mont.     To  my  life,   Lady. 

Lam.     Sit  down,  and  here,  I'll  have  it  so. 

Ami.     Sit  down  man,  never  refuse  so  fair  a  Ladies  offer. 

Mont.     It  is  your  pleasure,  Madam,  not  my  pride, 
And  I  obey  ;    I'll  pledge  ye  now   my   Lord,   Monsieur   Lon- 
gaville. 

Long.     I  thank  you,  Sir. 

Mont.  This  to  my  Lady,  and  her  fair  choice  to  day,  and 
happiness. 

271 


THE  HONEST  MAN'S  FORTUNE    ACT  v 

Lon.     'Tis  a  fair  health,  I'll  pledge  you  though  I  sink  for't. 

Lam.  Montague  you  are  too  modest ;  come,  I'll  add  a 
little  more  wine  t'yee,  'twill  make  you  merry,  this  to  the 
good  I  wish. 

Mont.  Honour'd  Lady,  I  shall  forget  my  self  with  this 
great  bounty. 

Lam.     You  shall  not  Sir,  give  him  some  Vine. 

Ami.     By  Heaven  you  are  a  worthy  woman,  and  that 
Man  is  blest  can  come  near  such  a  Lady. 

Lami.     Such  a  blessing  wet  weather  washes. 

Mont.     At  all,  I  will  not  go  a  lip  less,  my  Lord. 

Or  1.     'Tis  well  cast,  Sir. 

Mai.  If  Montague  get  more  Wine,  we  are  all  like  to 
hear  on't. 

Lav.     I  do  not  like  that  sitting  there. 

MaL     Nor  I,  methinks  he  looks  lik[e]  a  Judge. 

La-p.  Now  have  I  a  kind  of  grudging  of  a  beating  on 
me,  I  fear  my  hot  fit : 

Mai.     Drink  apace,  there's  nothing  allays  a  cudgel  like  it. 

Lami.  Montague,  now  I'll  put  my  choice  to  you  ;  who 
do  you  hold  in  all  this  honor'd  company  a  Husband  fit  to 
enjoy  thy  Lady  ?  speak  directly. 

Mont.     Shall  I  speak,  Madam  ? 

Lami.     Montague  you  shall. 

Mont.     Then  as  I  have  a  soul,  I'll  speak  my  conscience, 
Give  me  more  Wine,   in  vino  veritas^ 
Here's  to  my  self,  and  Montague  have  a  care. 

Lami.     Speak  to  th'  cause. 

Mont.      Yes  Madam,  first  I'll  begin  to  thee. 

Lav.     Have  at  us. 

La-p.     Now  for  a  Psalm  of  mercy. 

Mont.  You  good  Monsieur,  you  that  belye  the  noble 
name  of  Courtier,  and  think  your  claim  good  here,  hold  up 
your  hand  ;  your  Worship  is  endited  here,  for  a  vain  glorious 
fool. 

Lav.     Good,  oh  Sir. 

Mont.     For  one  whose  wit 
Lies  in  a  ten  pound  wastcoat ;    yet  not  warm  ; 
Ye  have  travell'd  like  a  Fidler  to  make  faces, 
And  brought  home  nothing  but  a  case  of  tooth-picks. 

272 


Sc.  i   THE  HONEST  MAN'S  FORTUNE 

You  would  be  married,  and  no  less  than  Ladies, 
And  of  the  best  sort  can  serve  you  ;    thou  Silk-worm, 
What  hast  thou  in  thee  to  deserve  this  woman  ? 
Name  but  the  poorest  piece  of  man,  good  manners, 
There's  nothing  sound  about  thee,  faith,  th'ast  none, 
It  lies  pawn'd  at  thy  Silk-man's,  for  so  much  Lace  j 
Thy  credit  with  his  wife  cannot  redeem  it, 
Thy  cloaths  are  all  the  soul  thou  hast,  for  so 
Thou  sav'st  them  handsome  for  the  next  great  tilting, 
Let  who  will  take  the  t'other,  thou  wert  never  christen'd 
(Upon  my  conscience)  but  in  Barbers  water ; 
Thou  art  never  out  o'th'   Bason,  thou  art  rotten, 
And  if  thou  dar'st  tell  truth,  thou  wilt  confess  it  ; 

Thy  skin 

Looks  of  a  Chesnut  colour,  greaz'd-  with  Amber, 

All  women  that  on  earth   do  dwell,  thou  lov'st, 
Yet  none  that  understand  love  thee  again, 
But  those  that  love  the  Spittle  ;    get  thee  home 
Poor  painted  Butter-flie,  th[y]   Summers  past ; 
Go  sweat,  and  eat  dry  Mutton,  thou  may'st  live 
To  do  so  well  yet ;    a  bruis'd  Chamber-Maid 
May  fall  upon  thee,  and  advance  thy  follies. 
You  have  your  sentence  ;    now  it  follows  Captain, 
I  treat  of  you. 

La-p.      Pray  [God]   I  may  deserve  it. 

Or/.     Beshrew  my  heart,  he  speaks  plain. 

Ami.     That's  plain  dealing. 

Mont.     You  are  a  rascal  Captain. 

La-p.     A  fine  Calling. 

Mont.     A  Water-coward. 

Ami.     He  would  make  a  pretty  stuff. 

Mont.     May  I  speak  freely,  Madam  ? 

Lami.      Here's  none  ties  you.  (thought 

Mont.     Why    shouldst    thou    dare    come    hither    with    a 
To  find  a  wife  here  fit  for  thee?    are  all 
Thy  single  money  whores  that  fed  on   Carrots, 
And  fill'd  the  high   Grass  with  familiars 
Fall'n  off  to  Footmen  ;    prethee  tell  me  truly, 
For  now  I  know  thou  dar'st  not  lie,  couldst  thou  not 
Wish  thy  self  beaten  well  with  all  thy  heart  now, 

B.-F.  x.  s  273 


THE  HONEST  MAN'S  FORTUNE    ACT  v 

And  out  of  pain  ?    say  that  I  broke  a  rib, 

Or  cut  thy  nose  off,  wer't  not  merciful  for  this  ambition  ? 

La-p.     Do  your  pleasure,  Sir,  beggars  must  not  be  choosers. 

Or/.      He  longs  for  beating. 

Mont.     But  that  I   have  nobler  thoughts  possess  my  soul, 
Than  such  brown   Bislcet,  such  a  piece  of  Dog-fish, 
Such  a  most  maungy   Mackril  eater  as  thou  art, 
That  dares  do  nothing  that  belongs  to  th'  Sea, 
But  spue,  and  catch  Rats,  and  fear  men  of  War, 
Though  thou  hast  nothing  in  the  world  to  loose 
Aboord  thee,  but  one  piece  of  Beef,  one  Musket 
Without  a  cock  for  peace  sake,  and  a  Pitch-barrel, 
I'll  tell  thee,   if  my  time  were  not  more  pretious 
Than  thus  to  loose  it,  I  would  rattle  thee, 
It  may  be  beat  thee,  and   thy  pure  fellow, 
The  Merchant  there  of  Catskins,  till  my  words, 
Or  blows,  or  both,  made  ye  two  branded  wretches 
To  all  the  world  hereafter  ;    you  would  fain  to 
Venture  your  Bils  of  lading  for  this  Lady  ; 
What  would  you  give  now  for  her  ?    some  five  frayl 
Of  rotten  Figs,  good  Godson,  would  you  not,  Sir  ? 
Or  a  Parrot 'that  speaks  High  Dutch  ?    can  all  thou  ever  saw'st 
Of  thine  own  fraughts  from  Sea,  or  cosenage 
(At  which  thou  art  as  expert  as  the  Devil) 
Nay,  sell  thy  soul  for  wealth  to,  as  thou  wilt  do, 
Forfeit  thy  friends,  and  raise  a  mint  of  Money, 
Make  thee  dream  all  these  double,  could  procure 
A  kiss  from  this  good  Lady  ?    canst  thou  hope 
She  would  lye  with  such  a  nook  of  Hell  as  thou  art, 
And  hatch  young  Merchant-furies  ?    oh  ye  dog-bolts  ! 
That  fear  no  [God]   but  Dunkirk,  I  shall  see  you 
Serve  in  a  lowsy  Lime-boat,  e'r  I  dye, 
For  mouldy  Cheese  and  Butter,  Billingsgate 
Would  not  endure,  or  bring  in  rotten  Pippins 
To  cure  blew  eyes,  and  swear  they  came  from   China. 

Lami.     Vex  'em  no  more,  alas  they  shake  : 

Mont.     Down  quickly  on  your  marrow-bones,  and  thank 

this  Lady. 

I  would  not  leave  you  thus  else,  there  are  blankets, 
And  such  delights  for  such  knaves  ;    but  fear  still  ; 

274 


Sc.  i   THE  HONEST  MAN'S  FORTUNE 

'Twill  be  revenge  enough  to  keep  you  waking. 
Ye  have  no  mind  of  marriage,  ha*  ye  ? 

La-p.     Surely  no  great  mind  now. 

Mont.     Nor  you. 

Mai.     Nor  I,  I  take  it. 

Mont.     Two  eager  suitors. 

L[a~\v.     Troth  'tis  wondrous  hot,  [God]  bless  us  from  him. 

La  mi.     You  have  told   me  Montag[ti]e 
Who  are  not  fit  to  have  me,  let  me  know 
The  man  you  would  point  out  for  me. 

Mont.  There  he  sits;  my  Lord  of  Amiens,  Madam,  is 
my  choice,  he's  noble  every  way,  and  worthy  a  wife  with 
all  the  dowries  of — 

Ami.     Do  you  speak  Sir,  out  of  your  friendship  to  me  ? 

Mont.    Yes  my  Lord,  and  out  of  truth,  for  I  could  never 
flatter. 

Ami.     I  would  not  say  how  much  I  owe  you  for  it, 
For  that  were  but  a  promise,  but  I'll  thank  ye, 
As  now  I  find  you,  in  despite  of  fortune, 
A  fair  and  noble  Gentleman.  (made 

Lami.     My  Lords,  I  must  confess  the  choice  this  man  hath 
Is  every  way  a  great  one,  if  not  too  great, 
And  no  way  to  be  slighted  :    yet  because 
We  love  to  have  our  own  eyes  sometimes  n[o]w, 
Give  me  a  little  liberty  to  see, 
How  I  could  fit  my  self,  if  I  were  put  to't. 

Ami.     Madam  we  must. 

Lami.     Are  ye  all  agreed  ? 

Omnes.     We  be. 

Lami.     Then  as  I  am  a  Maid,  I  shall  choose  here. 
Montague  I  must  have  thee. 

Mont.     Why  Madam,  I  have  learnt  to  suffer  more 
Than  you  can  (out  of  pity)  mock  me  with  this  way  especi- 
ally. 

Lami.     Thou  think'st  I  jest  now  ; 
But  by  the  love  I  bear  thee,  I  will  have  thee. 

Mont.     If  you  could  be  so  weak  to  love  a  fall'n  man, 
He  must  deserve  more  than  I  ever  can, 
Or  ever  shall  (dear  Lady  ;)    look  but  this  way 
Upon  that  Lord,  and  you  will  tell  me  then 

s  2  275 


THE  HONEST  MAN'S  FORTUNE    ACT  v 

Your  eyes  are  no  true  choosers  of  good   men. 

Ami.     Do  you  love  him  truly  ? 

Lam.  Yes  my  Lord,  I  will  obey  him  truly,  for  I'll  marry 
him,  and  justly  think  he  that  has  so  well  serv'd  me  with  his 
obedience,  being  born  to  greatness,  must  use  me  nobly  of 
necessity,  when  I  shall  serve  him. 

Ami.     'Twere  a  deep  sin   to  cross  ye,   noble  Montague, 
I  wish  ye  all  content,  and  am  as  happy 
In  my  friends  good  as  it  were  meerly  mine. 

Mont.     Your  Lordship  does  ill  to  give  up  your  right ; 
I  am  not  capable  of  this  great  goodness, 
There  sits  my  wife  that  holds  my  troth. 

Cha.  I'll  end  all,  I  wooed  you  for  my  Lady,  and  now 
give  up  my  Title,  alas  poor  wench,  my  aims  are  lower  far. 

Mont.     How's  this  sweet-heart  ? 

Lami.     Sweet-heart  'tis  so,  the  drift  was  mine  to  hide 
My  purpose  till  it  struck  home. 

Omnes.      [God  g]ive  you  joy. 

Lami.     Prethee  leave  wondring,  by  this  kiss  I'll  have  thee. 

Mont.     Then  by  this  kiss,  and  this,  I'll  ever  serve  ye. 

Long.  This  Gentleman  and  I  Sir,  must  needs  hope  once 
more  to  follow  ye. 

Mont.     As  friends  and  fellows,  never  as  servants  more. 

Long.  Dub.     You  make  us  happy. 

Or/.  Friend  Montague^  ye  have  taught  me  so  much  honor, 
I  have  found  a  fault  in  my  self,  but  thus  I'll  purge  my  con- 
science of  it,  the  late  Land  I  took  by  false  play,  from  you,  with 
as  much  contrition,  and  entireness  of  affeclion  to  this  most 
happy  day  again,  I  render  ;  be  master  of  your  own,  forget 
my  malice,  and  make  me  worthy  of  your  love,  L.  Montague. 

Mont.     You  have  won  me  and  honor  to  your  name. 

Mai.  Since  your  Lordship  has  begun  good  deeds,  we'll 
follow  ;  good  Sir  forgive  us,  we  are  now  those  men  fear  you 
for  goodness  sake ;  those  sums  of  money  unjustly  we  detain 
from  you,  on  your  pardon  shall  be  restor'd  again,  and  we 
your  servants. 

La-p.  You  are  very  forward  Sir,  it  seems  you  have  money, 
I  pray  you  lay  out,  I'll  pay  you,  or  pray  for  you,  as  the 
Sea  works. 

Lav.     Their  pennance  Sir,  I'll  undertake,  so  please  ye 


Sc.  i   THE  HONEST  MAN'S  FORTUNE 

To  grant  me  one  concealment. 

Long.  A  right  Courtier,  still  a  begging. 

Mont.  What  is  it  Sir? 

Lav.  A  Gentlewoman. 

Mont.  In  my  gift  ? 

Lav.  Yes  Sir,  in  yours. 

Mont.  Why,  bring  her  forth,  and  take  her. 

Lami.  What  wench  would  he  have  ? 

Mont.     Any  wench  I  think. 

Enter  Laverdine  and  Veramour  like  a  woman. 

Lav.     This  is  the  Gentlewoman. 

Mont.     'Tis  my  Page,  Sir. 

Ver.     No  Sir,  I  am  a  poor  disguis'd  Lady,  (wot. 

That  like  a  Page  have  followed  you  full  long  for  love  god- 

Omnes.     A  Lady — Laverdine — yes,  yes,  'tis  a  Lady. 

Mont.     It  may  be  so,  and  yet  we  have  lain  together, 
But  by  my  troth  I  never  found  her,  Lady. 

L.  Or/.     Why  wore  you  boys  cloaths  ? 

Ver.     I'll  tell  you,  Madam,  ' 

I  took  example  by  two  or  three  Plays,  that  methought 
Concerned  me. 

Mont.     Why  made  you  not  me  acquainted  with  it  ? 

Ver.     Indeed  Sir,  I  knew  it  not  my  self, 
Until  this  Gentleman  open'd  my  dull  eyes, 
And  by  perswasion  made  me  see  it. 

Ami.     Could  his  power  in  words  make  such  a  change  ? 

P^er.     Yes,  as  truly  woman  as  your  self,  my  Lord. 

Lav.     Why,  but  hark  you,  are  not  you  a  woman  ? 

Ver.     If  hands  and  face  make  it  not  evident,  you  shall  see 

Mai.     Breeches,  breeches,  Laverdine.  (more. 

La-p.     'Tis  not  enough,  women  may  wear  those  cases. 
Search   further  Courtier. 

Omnes.     Ha,  ha,  ha. 

La-p.    Oh  thou  fresh-water  Gudgeon,  wouldst  thou  come 
To  point  of  Marriage  with  an  Ignoramus  ? 
Thou  shouldst  have  had  her  Urin  to  the  Do6tors, 
The  foolishest  Physitian  could  have  made  plain 
The  liquid  Epicene  ;    a  blind  man   by  the  hand 
Could  have  discovered  the  ring  from  the  stone. 

277 


THE  HONEST  MAN'S  FORTUNE  ACT  v 

Boy,  come,   to  Sea  with   me,  I'll  teach   thee  to  climb, 
And  come  down  by  the  Rope,  nay  to  eat  Rats. 

Ver.     I  shall  devour  my  Master  before  the  prison  then, 
Sir,  I   have  began  my  Trade. 

Mai.     Trade  ?    to  the  City,  child,  a  flat-cap  will  become 
thee. 

Mont,     Gentlemen,  I  beseech  you  molest  your  selves  no 
For  his  preferment  it  is  determined,  (further, 

Lav.     I  am  much  ashamed,  and  if  my  cheek 
Gives  not  satisfaction,  break  my  head. 

Mont.     Your  shame's  enough,  Sir. 

Ami.     Montague,  much  joy  attend  thy  marriage-bed  ; 
By  thy  example  of  true  goodness,  envy  is  exil'd, 
And  to  all  honest  men  that  truth  intend, 
I  wish  good  luck,  fair  fate  be  still  thy  friend.  [Exeunt. 


Upon    an    Honest    Man's    Fortune. 

By  Mr.    JOHN  FLETCHER. 

YOu  that  can  look  through  Heaven,  and  tell  the  Stars, 
Observe  their  kind  conjunctions,  and  their  wars  ; 
Find  out  new  Lights,  and  give  them  where  you  please, 
To  those  men  honors,  pleasures,  to  those  ease  ; 
You  that  are  God's  Survey ers,  and  can  show 
How  far,  and  when,  and  why  the  wind  doth  blow  ; 
Know  all  the  charges  of  the  dreadful  thunder, 
And  when  it  will  shoot  over,  or  fall  under : 
Tell  me,  by  all  your  Art  I  conjure  ye, 
Yes,  and  by  truth,  what  shall  become  of  me  ? 
Find  out  my  Star,  if  each  one,  as  you  say, 
Have  his  peculiar  Angel,  and  his  way  ; 
Observe  my  fate,  next  fall  into  your  dreams, 
Sweep  clean  your  houses,  and  new  line  your  Sceames, 
Then  say  your  worst  :    or  have  I  none  at  all? 
Or  is  it  burnt  out  lately?    or  did  fall? 

278 


THE  HONEST  MAN'S  FORTUNE 

Or  am  I  poor  ?    not  able,  no  full  flame  ? 

My  Star,  like  me,  unworthy  of  a  name  ? 

Is  It  your  Art  can  only  work  on  those, 

That  deal  with  dangers,  dignities,  and  cloaths  ? 

With  Love,  or  new   Opinions  ?  you  all  lye, 

A  Fish-wife  hath  a  fate,  and  so  have  I, 

But  far  above  your  finding ;    he  that  gives, 

Out  of  his  providence,   to  all  that  lives, 

And  no  man  knows  his  treasure,  no,  not  you  : 

He  that  made  Egypt  blind,  from  whence  you  grew 

Scabby  and  lowzie,   that  the  world  might  see 

Tour  Calculations  are  as  blind  as  ye : 

He  that  made  all  the  Stars,  you  daily  read, 

And  from  thence  filtch  a  knowledge  ho^v   to  feed ; 

Hath  hid  this  from  you,  your  conjectures  all 

Are  drunken  things,  not  how,  but  when  they  fall : 

Man  is  his  own   Star,  and  the  soul  that  can 

Render  an  honest,  and  a  perfect  man, 

Commands  all  light,  all  influence,  all  fate, 

Nothing  to  him  falls  early,  or  too  late. 

Our  Afts  our  Angels  are,  or  good  or  ill, 

Our  fatal  shadows  that  walk  by  us  still, 

And  when  the  Stars  are  labouring,  we  believe 

It  is  not  that  they  govern,  but  they  grieve 

For  stuborn  ignorance  ;    all  things  that  are 

Made  for  our  general  uses,  are  at  war, 

Even  we  among  our  selves,  and  from  the  strife, 

Tour  first  unlike  opinions  got  a  life. 

Oh  man  !    thou  Image  of  thy  Makers  good, 

What  canst  thou  fear,  when  breathed  into  thy  bloud, 

His  spirit  is,  that  built  thee?    what  dull  sence 

Makes  thee  suspett,  in  need,  that  Providence? 

Who  made  the  morning,  and  who  placd  the  light 

Guide  to  thy  labours  ?    who  calF  d  up  the  night, 

And  bid  her  fall  upon  thee  like  sweet  showers 

In  hollow  murmurs,  to  lock  up  thy  powers  ? 

JVho  gave  thee  knowledge,  who  so  trusted  thee, 

To  let  thee  grow  so  near  himself,  the  Tree  ? 

Must  he  then  be  distrusted  ?    shall  his  frame 

Discourse  with  him,  why  thus,  and  thus  I  am  ? 

279 


THE  HONEST  MAN'S  FORTUNE 

He  made  the  Angels   thine,   thy  fellows  all, 

Nay,  even  thy  servants,  when  Devotions  call. 

Oh!    canst  thou  be  so  stupid  then,  so  dim, 

To  seek  a  saving  influence,  and  loose  him  ? 

Can  Stars  protect  thee  ?    or  can  poverty, 

Which  is  the  light  to  Heaven,  put  out  his  eye  ? 

He  is  my  Star,  in  him  all  truth  I  find, 

All  influence,  all  fate,  and  when  my  mind 

Is  furnished  with  his  fullness,  my  poor  story 

Shall  out-live  all  their  age,  and  all  their  glory, 

The  hand  of  danger  cannot  fall  amiss, 

When   I  know   what,   and  in   whose  power  it  is. 

[N~\or  want,  the  cause  of  man,  shall  make  me  groan, 

A  Holy  Hermit  is  a  mind  alone. 

Doth  not  experience  teach  us  all  we  can, 

To  work  our  selves  into  a  glorious  man  ? 

Loves  but  an  exhalation  to  best  eyes 

The  matter  spent,  and  then  the  fools  fire  dies  ? 

Were  I  in  love,  and  could  that  bright  Star  bring 

Increase  to   Wealth,  Honor,  and  every  thing  : 

Were  she  as  perfect  good,  as  we  can  aim, 

The  first  was  so,  and  yet  she  lost  the   Game. 

My  Mistriss  then  be  knowledge  and  fair  truth  ; 

So  I  enjoy  all  beauty  and  all  youth, 

And  though  to  time  her  Lights,  and  Laws  she  lends, 

She  knows  no  Age,  that  to  corruption  bends. 

Friends  promises  may  lead  me  to  believe, 

But  he  that  [is]   his  own  friend,  knows  to  live. 

Affliction,  when  I  know  it  is  but  this, 

A  deep  allay,  whereby  man  tougher  is 

To   \b~\ear  the  hammer,  and  the  deeper  still, 

We  still  arise  more  image  of  his   Will. 

Sickness,  an  humorous  cloud  'twixt  us  and  light 

And  death,  at  longest  but  another  night. 

Man  is  his  own  Star,  and  that  soul  that  can 

Be  honest,  is  the  only  perfect  man. 

FINIS. 


280 


THE 
MASQUE  of  the  Gentlemen 

OF 
GRATS-INNE   and  the  INNER-TEMPLE  ; 

Performed  before  the  KING  in  the  Banqueting-House 
in  White-Hall,  at  the  Marriage  of  the  Illustrious 
Frederick  and  Elizabeth,  Prince  and  Princess  Pala- 
tine of  the  Rhine. 


Written  by  FRANCIS  BEAMONT  Gent. 


Enter  Iris  running,  Mercury  following,  and  catching  hold  of  her. 

Mercury. 

STay  Light-[f]oot  Iris,  for  thou  striv'st  in  vain, 
My  wings  are  nimbler  than  thy  feet. 

Iris.     Away, 

Dissembling  Mercury,  my  messages 
Ask  honest  haste,  not  like  those  wanton  ones, 
Your  thundering  Father  sends. 

Mer.     Stay  foolish   Maid, 
Or  I  will  take  my  rise  upon  a  hill, 
When  I  perceive  thee  seated  in  a  cloud, 
In  all  the  painted  glory  that  thou  hast, 
And  never  cease  to  clap  my  willing  wing[s], 
Till  I   catch  hold  off]   thy  discolour'd   Bow, 
And  shiver  it  beyond  the  angry  power 
Of  your   [curst]   Mistriss  to  make  up  again. 

Iris.     Hermes  forbear,  Juno  will  chide  and  strike  ; 

281 


A  MASQUE 

Is  great   "Jove  jealous  that  I  am   imploy'd 
On   her  Love-errands  ?    she  did   never  yet 
Claspe  weak   mortality   in   her  white  arms, 
As  he  has  often  done  ;    I  only  come 
To  celebrate  the  long  wish'd   Nuptials 
Here  in  Olympia^  which  are  now  perform'd 
Betwixt  two  goodly  Rivers,  [which]   have  mixt 
Their  gentle   [risjing  waves,  and  are  to  grow 
Into  a  thousand  streams,  great  as  themselves. 
I  need  not  name  them,  for  the  sound   is  loud 
In   Heaven  and  Earth,  and   I  am  sent  from  her 
The  Queen  of  marriage,  that  was  present  here, 
And  smil'd  to  see  them  joyn,  and  hath  not  chid 
Since  it  was  done.     Good  Hermes  let  me  goe. 

Merc.     Nay,  you  must  stay,  yove's  message  is  the  same ; 
Whose  eyes  are  lightning,  and  whose  voice  is  thunder, 
Whose  breath  is  a[n]y  wind,  he  will,  who  knows 
How  to  be  first  [o]n  Earth,  as  well  as  Heaven. 

Iris.     But  what  hath  he  to  do  with  Nuptial  rites  ? 
Let  him  [keepe  state]  upon  his  Starry  throne, 
And  fright  poor  mortals  with  his  Thunder-bolts, 
Leaving  to  us  the  mutual  darts  of  eyes. 

Merc.     Alas,  when  ever  offer'd  he  t'abridge 
Your  Ladies  power,   but  only  now  in  these, 
Whose  match  concerns  [his]  general  government  ? 
Hath  not  each  God  a  part  in  these  high  joyes  ? 
And  shall  not  he  the  King'  of  gods  presume 
Without  proud  Juno's  licence  ?    let  her  know, 
That  when  enamour'd  Jove  fir[st]  gave  her  power 
To  link  soft  hearts  in  undissolvfed]  b[o]nds, 
He  then  foresaw,  and  to  himself  reserv'd 
The  honor  of  this  marriage  :    thou  shalt  stand 
Still  as  a  Rock,  while  I  to  bless  this  Feast 
Will  summon  up  with  mine  all-charming  rod 
The  Nymphs  of  Fountains,  from  whose  watry  locks, 
(Hung  with  the  dew  of  blessing  and  increase) 
The  greedy  Rivers  take  their  nourishment. 
Y[ou]   Nymphs,  who  bathing  in  your  loved  Springs, 
Beheld  these  Rivers  in  their  infancy. 
And  joy'd  to  see  them,  when  their  circled  heads 

282 


A  MASQUE 

Refresh'd  the  Air,  and  spread  the  ground  with  Flowers ; 
Rise  from  your  Wells,  and  with  your  nimble  feet 
Perform  that  office  to  this  happy  pair, 
Which   in  these  Plains  you  to  Alpheus  did, 
When  passing  hence,  through  many  Seas  unmixt, 
He  gain'd  the  favour  of  his  Arethuse. 

[The  Nymphs  rise,  and  dance  a  little, 

and  then  make  a  stand. 

Iris.     Is  Hermes  grown  a  Lover  ?    by  what  power 
Unknown  to  us,  calls  he  the  [Naiades]  ? 

Merc.     Presumptuous  Iris,  I  could  make  thee  dance, 
Till  thou  forgetst  thy  Ladies  messages, 
And  rann'st  back  crying  to  her ;    thou  shalt  know 
My    power  is  more,  only  my  breath,  and  this 
Shall  move  fix'd  Stars,  and  force  the  Firmament 
To  yield  the  Hyades,  who  govern  showers, 
And  dewy  clouds,  in  whose  dispersed  drops 
Thou  form'st  the  shape  of  thy  deceitful  Bow. 
Y[ou]   Maids,  who  yearly  at  appointed  times 
Advance  with  kindly  tears,  the  gentle  floods 
Discend,  and  pour  your  blessing  on  these  streams, 
Which  rolling  down  from   Heaven-aspiring  hills, 
And  now  united  in  the  fruitful  vales, 
Bear  all  before  them,  ravish'd  with  their  joy, 
And  swell  in  glory,  till  they  know  no  bounds. 

[The  Cloud  discends  with  the  Hyades,  at  which  the 
Maids  seem  to  be  rejoyced ;  they  all  dance  a  while 
together,  then  make  another  stand,  as  if  they 
wanted  something. 

Iris.     Great  Wit  and  Power  hath  Hermes  to  contrive 
A  livel[esse]   dance,  which  of  one  sex  consists. 
Merc.     Alas  poor  Iris  !  Venus  hath  in  store 
A  secret  ambush  of  her  winged  boys, 
Who  lurking  long  within  these  pleasant  groves, 
First  stuck  these  Lovers  with  their  equal  darts ; 
Those  Cupids  shall  come  forth,  and  joyn  with  these, 
To  honor  that  which  they  themselves  began. 

[The  Cupids  come  forth  and  dance,  they  are  weary 
with  their  blind  pursuing  the  Nymphs,  and  th[i\ 
Nymphs  weary  with  flying  them. 

283 


A  MASQUE 

Iris.     Behold   the  Statues  which   wild   Vulcan   plac'd 
Under  the   Altar  of  Olympian    'Jove, 
And  gave  to  them  an  artificial  life  : 
[Shall  daunce  for  joy  of  these  great  Nuptialls  :] 
See  how  they   move,  drawn   by  this   Heavenly  joy, 
Like  the  wild  Trees,  which   followed   Orpheus  Harp. 

[The  Statues  come  down,  and  they  all  dance,  till  the 
Nymphs  out-run  them,  and  lose  them,  then  the 
Cupids  go  off,  and  last  the  Statues. 

Merc.     And  what  will   Juno's  Iris  do  for  her  ? 

Iris.     Just  match   this  shew,  or  m[y]   inventio[n]   fail[es], 
Had   it  been   worthier,  I  would  have   invok'd 
The   blazing  Comets,  Clouds,  and  falling  Stars, 
And  all  my  kindred  Meteors  of  the  air, 
To  have  excelPd  it ;    but  I  now  must  strive 
To  imitate  confusion  ;    therefore  thou 
Delightful  Flora  ;    if  thou  ever  feltst 
Increase  of  sweetness  in  those  blooming  Plants, 
On  which  the  horns  of  my  fair  Bow  decline, 
Send  hither  all  th[e]   rural   company, 

Which  deck  the  May-games  with  their  [Countrey]  sports  ; 
Juno  will  have  it  so. 

[The  second  Anti-Masque  [rush]  in,  [dance']  their 
measure,  and  as  rudely  depart. 

Merc.     Iris,  we  strive 

Like  winds  at  liberty,  who  should  do  worst 
E'r  we   return.      If  Juno  be  the  Queen 
Of  Marriages,  let  her  give  happy  way 
To  what  is  done  in  honor  of  the  State 
She  governs. 

Iris.     Hermes,  so  it  may  be  done 
Meerly  in  honor  of  the  State,  and   th[e]se 
That  now  have  prov'd  it  ;    not  to  satisfy 
The  lust  of  Jupiter,  in   having  thanks 
More  than  his  Juno ;    if  thy  Snaky  rod 
Have  power  to  search  the  Heaven,  or  sound   the  Sea, 
Or  call  together  all  the  ends  of  earth, 
To  bring  [in]  any  thing  that   may  do  grace 
To  us,  and  these,  do  it,  we  shall   be  pleas'd. 

Merc.     Then  know  that  from  the  mouth  of  Jove  himself, 

284 


A  MASQUE 

Whose  words  have  wings,  and  need  not  to  be  born, 
I  took  a  message,  and  I   b[a]re  it  through 
A  thousand  yielding  clouds,  and  never  staid 
Till  his  high  Will  was  done :    the   Olympian  games, 
Which  long  ha[ve]  slept,  at  these  wish'd  Nuptials, 
He  pleas'd  to  have  renew'd,  and  all  his   Knights 
Are  gathered  hither,  who  within  their  Tents 
Rest  on  this  hill,  upon  whose  rising  head 

[The  Altar  is  discovered  with  the  Priests  about  it, 
and  the  Statues  under  it,  and  the  Knights  lying  in 
their  Tents  on  each  side,  near  the  top  of  the  hill. 
Behold  Joves  Altar,  and  his  blessed  Priests 
Moving  about  it ;    come  you   Holy  men, 
And  with  your  voices  draw  these  youths  along, 
That  till  Joves  Musiclc  call  them   to  their  games. 
Their  active  sports  may  give  a  blest  content 
To  those,  for  whom  they  are  again  begun. 

The  first  Song,  when  the  Priests  descend,  and 
the  Knights  follow  them. 

Shake  of  your  heavy  trance, 

and  leap  into  a  dance, 
Such  as  no  mortals  use  to  tread, 

fit  only  for  Apollo 
To  play  to,  for  the  Moon  to  lead, 

And  all  the  Stars  to  follow. 

The  second  Song  at  the  end  of  the  first  Dance. 

On  blessed  youths,  for  Jove  doth  pause, 
Laying  aside  his  graver  Laws 

For  this  device  : 

And  at  the  wedding  such  a  pair, 
Each  dance  is  taken  for  a  prayer, 

Each  Song  a  Sacrifice. 

The  third  Song,  after  their  many  Dances,  when 
they  are  to  take  out  the  Ladies. 

Single. 

o  O 

More  pleasing  were  these  sweet  delights, 
If  Ladies  movd  as  well  as  Knights  ; 

285 


A  MASQUE 

Run   every  one  of  you  and  catch 
A  Nymph)   in   honor  of  his   match  ; 
And  whisper  boldly  in   her  ear, 
Jove  will  but  laugh)  if  you  forswear. 

All. 

And  this  days  sins  he  doth  resolve, 
That  we  his  Priests  should  all  absolve. 

The  fourth  Song,  when  they  have  parted  with  the  Ladies, 
a  shrill  Musick  sounds,  supposed  to  be  that  which  calls 
them  to  the  Olympian  games,  at  which  they  all  make 
a  seeming  preparation  to  depart. 

T\_e]   should  stay  longer  if  we  durst, 
Away,  alas  !    that  he  that  first 
Gave  time  wild  wings  to  fly  away, 
H[ath~\   now  no  power  to  make  him  stay. 
\_But]   though  these  games  must  needs  be  plaid, 
I  would  tk\_is~\  pair,  when  they  are  laid, 

And  not  a  creature  nigh  'em, 
[Could\   catch  his  sit  he,  as  he  doth  pass, 
And  \_cut\   his  wings,  and  break  his  glass, 

And  keep  him  ever  by  'em. 

The  fifth  Song,  when  all  is  done,  as  they  ascend 

Peace  and  silence  be  the  guide 
To  the  Man,  and  to  the  Bride  : 
If  there  be  a  joy  y[e]t  new 
In   marriage,  let  it  fall  on  you, 

That  all  the  world  may  wonder  : 
If  we  should  stay,  we  should  do  worse, 
And  turn  our  blessings  to  a  curse, 

By  keeping  you  asunder. 


286 


Four  PLAYS  in  One. 


The  Persons  represented  in  the  Play. 


Emanuel,  KingqfPortugal,  &  Castile. 

Isabella,  bis  Queen. 

Lords. 


Frigoso,  a  Courtier. 
Rinaldo,     his     ac- 
quaintance. 


Spectators  of  the 
Play  at  the  cele- 
bration of  their 
Nuptials. 


The  Triumph  of  Honor. 


Marti  us,  a  Roman  General. 
Valerius,  his  Brother. 
Nicodemus,  a  cowardly  Corporal. 


Cornelius,  a  njoittal  Sutler. 

Captain. 

Sophocles,  Duke  of  Athens. 


Diana. 

Dorigen,   Sophocles    wife,    the   ex- 
ample of  Chastity. 


WOMEN. 

Florence,  Wife  to  Cornelius. 


The  Triumph  of  Love. 


Cupid. 

Rinaldo,  Duke  o/"Milan. 
Benvoglio,   )  Brothers,     Lords    of 
Randulpho,  I      Milan. 


Gerard,        )  Sons  of  the  Duke,  sup- 
Ferdinand,  ]     posed  lost. 


WOMEN. 


Angelina,  Wife  to  Benvoglio. 
Violante,    her    Daughter,    Gerard's 
Mistriss. 


Dorothea,  Violante's  Attendant. 
Cornelia,  the  obscured  Duchess. 


287 


The  Triumph  of  Death. 


Duke  of  Anjou. 

Lavall,  his  lustful  Heir. 

Gentille,  a  Courtier,  Father  to  Perolot. 

Perolot,  contracted  to  Gabriella. 


Two  Gentlemen. 

A  Spirit. 

Shalloone,  servant  to  Lavall. 


WOMEN. 


Gabriella,     the     despised     wife     of 

Lavall. 
Hellena,  his  second  <wife. 


Casta,  Daughter  to  Gentille. 
Maria,     a     servant     attending     on 
Gabriella. 


The  Triumph  of  Time. 


Jupiter. 
Mercuric. 
Plutus. 
Time. 


Atropos. 
Desire. 

Vain  Delight. 
Bounty. 


Poverty. 
Honesty. 
Simplicity. 
Fame. 


288 


Four 

PLAYS 


OR 


Moral    Representations 
IN    ONE. 


Enter  Don  Frigozo. 

Frig.  [Noise  within. 

A  Way  with   those  bald-pated   Rascals   there,  their  wits  are 
bound  up  in  Vellom,  they  are  not  currant  here.     Down 

with  those  City-Gentlemen,  &c.    Out  with  those I  say,  and 

in  with  their  wives  at  the  back  door.  Worship  and  place,  I  am 
weary  of  ye,  ye  lye  on  my  shoulders  lik  a  load  of  Gold  on  an 
Asses  back.  A  man  in  Authority,  is  but  as  a  candle  in  the  wind, 
sooner  wasted  or  blown  out,  than  under  a  bushel.  How  now, 
what's  the  matter  ? 
Who  are  you,  Sir  ? 

Enter  Rinaldo. 

Rin.     Who  am  I,  Sir  ?    why,  do  y'  not  know  me  ? 

Frig.     No   by  my do  I  not. 

Rin.     I  am  sure  we  din'd  together  to  day. 
Frig.     That's  all  one  :    as  I   din'd  with  you  in  the  City, 
and  as  you  paid  for  my  dinner  there,  I  do  know  you,  and  am 

B.-F.  x.  T  289 


FOUR  PLAYS,  OR  MORAL 

beholding  to  you  :  But  as  my  mind  is  since  transmigrated 
into  my  office,  and  as  you  come  to  Court  to  have  me  pay 
you  again,  and  be  beholding  to  me,  I  know  you  not,  I  know 
you  not. 

Rin.     Nay,  but  look  ye,  Sir. 

Frig.  Pardon  me :  If  you  had  been  my  bed-fellow  these 
seven  years,  and  lent  me  money  to  buy  my  place,  I  must  not 
transgress  principles :  This  very  talking  with  you  is  an  ill 
example. 

Rin.  Pish,  you  are  too  punctual  a  Courtier,  Sir  :  why, 
I  am  a  Courtier  too,  yet  never  understood  the  place  or  name 
to  be  so  infectious  to  humanity  and  manners,  as  to  cast  a  man 
into  a  burning  pride  and  arrogance,  for  which  there  is  no  cure. 
I  am  a  Courtier,  and  yet  I  will  know  my  friends,  I  tell  you. 

Frig.  And  I  tell  you,  you  will  thrive  accordingly,  I 
warrant  you. 

Rin.  But  hark  ye,  Signior  Frigozo,  you  shall  first  under- 
stand, I  have  no  friends  with  me  to  trouble  you. 

Frig.     Humh  :    That's  a  good  motive. 

Rin.     No[r]  to  borrow  money  of  you. 

Frig.     That's  an  excellent  motive. 

Rin.     No  my  sweet  Don,  nor  to  ask  what  you  owe  me. 

Frig.  Why,  that  is  the  very  motive  of  motives,  why  I 
ought  and  will  know  thee  :  and  if  I  had  not  wound  thee  up  to 
this  promise,  I  would  not  have  known  thee  these  fifteen  years, 
no  more  than  the  errantst,  or  most  founder'd  Castillian  that 
followed  our  new  Queens  Carriages  a-foot. 

Rin.  Nor  for  any  thing,  dear  Don,  but  that  you  would 
place  me  conveniently  to  see  the  Play  to  night. 

Frig.  That  shall  I,  Signior  Rinaldo  :  but  would  you  had 
come  sooner  :  you  see  how  full  the  Scaffolds  are,  there  is  scant 
room  for  a  Lovers  thought  here.  Gentlewomen  sit  close  for 
shame  :  Has  none  of  ye  a  little  corner  for  this  Gentleman  ?  I'll 
place  ye,  fear  not.  And  how  did  our  brave  King  of  Portugal, 
Emanuel)  bear  himself  to  day?  You  saw  the  solemnity  of  the 
marriage. 

Rin.  Why,  like  a  fit  Husband  for  so  gracious  and  excellent 
a  Princess,  as  his  worthy  mate  Isabella^  the  King  of  Castiles 
Daughter  doth  in  her  very  external  li[ne]aments,  mixture  of 
colours,  and  joyning  Dove-like  behaviour  assure  her  self  to  be. 

290 


REPRESENTATIONS,  IN  ONE 

And  I  protest  (my  dear  Don)  seriously,  I  can  sing  prophetically 
nothing  but  blessed  Hymns,  and  happy  occasions  to  this  sacred 
union  of  Portugal  and  Castile,  which  have  so  wisely  and  mutually 
conjoyned  two  such  virtuous  and  beautiful  Princes  as  these  are ; 
and  in  all  opinion  like  to  multiply  to  their  very  last  minute. 

Frig.     The   King  is  entring  :    Signior,  hover  here  about, 
and  as  soon  as  the  Train  is  set,  clap  into  me,  we'll  stand  near 
the  State.     If  you  have  any  Creditors  here,  they  shall  renew 
bonds  a  Twelvemonth  on  such  a  sight :  but  to  touch  the  pomel 
of  the  King's  Chair  in  the  sight  of  a  Citizen,  is  better  security 
for  a  thousand  double  Duckets,  than  three  of  the  best  Merchants 
in   Lisbon.     Besides,   Signior,   we    will   censure,   not  only   the 
King  in  the  Play  here,  that  Reigns  his  two  hours  ;    but  the 
King  himself,  that  is  to  rule  his  life  time  :  Take  my  counsel : 
I  have  one  word  to  say  to  this  noble  Assembly,  and  I  am  for  you. 
Rin.     Your  method  shall  govern  me. 
Frig.      Prologues  are  bad  Huishers  before  the  wise  ; 
Why  may  not  then  an  Huisher  Prologize  ? 
Here's  a  fair  sight,  and  were  ye  oftner  seen 
Thus  gathered  here,  'twould  please  our  King  and  Queen 
Upon  my  conscience,  ye  are  welcome  all 
To  Lisbon,  and  the  Court  of  Portugal ; 
Where  your  fair  eyes  shall  feed  on  no  worse  sights 
Than  preparations  made  for  Kings  delights. 
We  wish  to  men  content,   the  manliest  treasure. 
And  to  the  Women ,  their  own  wished  for  pleasure. 

[Flourish. 

Enter  King  and  £)ueen,  Emanuel  and  Isabella, 
Lords  and  attendants. 

Em.     Fair  fountain  of  my  life,  from  whose  pure  streams 
The  propagation  of  two  Kingdoms  flowes, 
Never  contention  rise  in  cithers  brest, 
But  contestation  whose  love  shall  be  best. 

Isab.     Majestick  Ocean,  that  with  plenty  feeds 
Me,  thy  poor  tributary  Rivolet, 
Sun  of  my  beauty,  that  with   radiant  beams 
Dost  gild,  and  dance  upon  these  humble  streams, 
Curst  be  my  birth-hour,  and  my  ending  day, 
When  back  your  love-floods  I  forget  to  pay : 

T  2  291 


FOUR  PLAYS,  OR  MORAL 

Or  if  this  Brest  of  mine,  your  crystall   brook, 
Ever  take  other  form   in,  other  look 
But  yours,  or  ere  produce  unto  your  grace 
A  strange   reflection,  or  anothers  face, 

C1  '  ' 

But  be  your  love-book  clasp'd,  open'd  to  none 
But  you,  nor  hold  a  storie,   but  your  own  ; 
A  water  fix'd,  that  ebbs  nor  floods  pursue, 
Frozen  to  all,  onely  dissolv'd  to  you. 

Em.     O,  who  shall  tel  the  sweetness  of  our  love 
To  future  times,  and  not  be  thought   to  lye  ? 
I  look  through  this  hour  like  a  perspective, 
And  far  off  see  millions  of  prosperous  seeds, 
That  our  reciprocall  affection   breeds. 
Thus  my  white  rib,  close  in   my  brest  with   me, 
Which  nought  shall  tear  hence,   but  mortalitie. 

Lords.     Be   Kingdoms  blest  in  you,  you  blest  in  them. 

Frig.  Whist,  Seignior ;  my  strong  imagination  shews  me 
Love  (me  thinks)  bathing  in  milk,  and  wine  in  her  cheeks  : 
O  !  how  she  clips  him,  like  a  plant  of  Ivie. 

Rln.  I  ;  Could  not  you  be  content  to  be  an  Owl  in  such 
an  ivie-bush,  or  one  of  the  Oaks  of  the  City  to  be  so  dipt  ? 

Frig.  Equivocal  Don,  though  I  like  the  clipping  well,  I 
could  not  be  content  either  to  be  your  Owl,  or  your  Ox  of 
the  City.  The  Play  begins.  [Flourish. 

Enter  a  Poet  with  a  garland. 

Poet  Prologue.      Low  at  your  sacred  feet  our  poor  Muse  /ayes 
Her,  and  her  thunder-fearless  virdant  Bayes. 
Four  severall  Triumphs  to  your  Princely  eyes, 
Of  Honor,  Love,   Death,  and  Time  do  rise 
From  our  approaching  subject,  which  we  move 
Towards  you  with  fear,  since  that  a  sweeter  Love, 
A  brighter  Honor,  purer  Chastitie 
March  in  your  brests  this  day  triumphantly, 
Then  our  weak  Scenes  can  show  :    then  how  dare  we 
Present  like  Apes  and  Zanies,  things  that  be 
Exemplified  in  you,   but  that  we  know, 
We  mr  crav  d  grace,  which  you  did  not  bestow  ? 


292 


REPRESENTATIONS,  IN  ONE 

Enter  in  triumph  with  Drums,   Trumpets,   Colours,  Martius, 

Valerius,  Sophocles  bound,  Nicodemus,  Cornelius, 

Captains  and  Soldiers. 

Mar.     What  means  proud  Sophocles  ? 

Soph.     To  go  even  with  Martius, 
And  not  to   follow  him  like  his  Officer  : 
I  never  waited  yet  on  any  man. 

Mar.     Why  poor  Athenian  Duke,  thou  art  my  slave, 
My  blows  have  conquerd  thee. 

Soph.     Thy  slave  ?    proud  Martius, 
Cato  thy  countrey-man  (whose  constancie, 
Of  all  the  Romans,  I  did  honor  most) 
Rip'd   himself  twice  to  avoid  slavery, 
Making  himself  his  own  Anatomic. 
But  look  thee  Martius,  not  a  vein  runs   here 
From  head  to  foot,   but  Sophocles  would  unseame,  and 
Like  a  spring  garden  shoot  his  scornfull   blood 
Into  their  eyes,  durst  come  to  tread  on  him  : 
As  for  thy  blows,  they  did   [not]   conquer  me  : 
Seven  Battailes  have  I  met  thee  face  to  face, 
And  given  thee  blow  for  blow,  and  wound  for  wound, 
And  till  thou  taught'st  me,  knew  not  to  retire  ; 
Thy  sword  was  then  as  bold,  thy  arm  as  strong  ; 
Thy  blows  then  Martius,  cannot  conquer  me. 

Val.     What  is  it  then  ? 

Soph.     Fortune. 

PaL     Why,  yet  in  that 
Thou  art  the  worse  man,  and  must  follow  him. 

Soph.     Young  Sir,  you  erre  :   If  Fortune  could  be  call'd 
Or  his,  or  your's,  or  mine,  in  good  or  evill 
For  any  certain  space,  thou  hadst  spoke  truth  : 
But  she  but  jests  with   man,  and  in   mischance 
Abhors  all  constancie,  flowting  him  still 
With  some  small  touch  of  good,  or  seeming  good 
Midst  of  his  mischief:    which  vicissitude 
Makes  him  strait  doff  his  armour,  and  his  fence 
He  had  prepar'd  before,  to  break  her  strokes. 
So  from  the  very  Zenith  of  her  wheel, 
When  she  has  dandled  some  choice  favorite, 

293 


FOUR  PLAYS,  OR  MORAL 

Given   him   his  boons  in  women,  honor,  wealth, 
And  all   the  various  delecacies  of  earth  ; 
That   the  fool  scorns  the  gods  in   his  excess, 
She  whirls,  and   leaves  him  at   th'   Antipodes. 

Mar.     Art  sure   we   have  taken    him?    Is  this  Sophocles? 
His  fettred  arms  say  no  ;    his  free  soul,  I. 
This  Athens  nurseth   Arts,  as  well  as  Arms. 

Soph.     Nor  glory  Martins^  in  this  day  of  thine, 
'Tis  behind  yesterday,   but  before  to  morrow  : 
Who  knows  what  Fortune  then  will   do  with   thee  ? 
She  never  yet  could   make  the  better  man, 
The  better  chance  she   has  :    the  man  that's  best 
She  still  contends  with,  and   doth   favor  least. 

Mar.     Me  thinks  a  graver  thunder  then  the  skies 
Breaks  from  his  lips  ;    I  am  amaz'd  to  hear, 
And  Athens  words,  more  then  her  swords  doth   fear. 

Soph.     Martins^  slave   Sophocles,   couldst  thou  acquire 
(And  did  thy  Roman  gods  so  love  thy  prayers, 
And  solemn  sacrifice,  to  grant  thy  suit) 
To  gather  all  the  valour  of  the   Ctesars 
Thy  Predecessors,  and  what  is  to  come, 
And   by  their  influence  fling  it  on   thee  now, 
Thou  couldst  not  make  my  mind  go  less,  not  pare 
With  all  their  swords  one  virtue  from  my  soul  : 
How  am  I  vassall'd  then  ?     Make  such  thy  slaves, 
As  dare  not  keep  their  goodness  past  their  graves. 
Know  General,  we  two  are  chances  on 
The  die  of  Fate  ;    now  thrown,  thy  six  is  up, 
And  my  poor  one   beneath  thee,   next  th[y]   throw 
May  set  me  upmost,  and  cast  thee  below. 

Mar.     Yet  will  I  trie  thee  more  :    Calamitie 
Is  mans  true  touchstone  :    Listen  insolent  Prince, 
That  dar'st  contemn  the  Master  of  thy  life, 
Which  I  will   force  here  'fore  thy  City  walls 
With  barbarous  crueltie,  and  call  thy  wife 
To  see  it,  and  then  after  send  her — 

Soph.     Ha,  ha,  ha. 

Mar.     And  then  demolish  Athens  to  the  ground, 
Depopulate  her,  fright  away  her  fame, 
And  leave  succession  neither  stone  nor  name. 

294 


REPRESENTATIONS,  IN  ONE 

Soph.     Ha,  ha,  ha. 

Mar.     Dost  thou  deride  me  ? 

Val.     Kneel,  ask  Martius 
For  mercy,  Sophocles,  and  live  happy  still. 

Soph.     Kneel,  and  ask  mercie  ?    (Roman)  art  a  god  ? 
I  never  kneel'd,  or  begg'd  of  any  else. 
Thou  art  a  fool,  and  I  will  loose  no  more 
Instructions  on  thee:  now  I  find  thy  eares          [Solemn  Mustek. 

Enter  Dorigen^  Ladyes  bearing  a  sword. 

Are  foolish,  like  thy  tongue.      My  Dorigen  ? 
Oh  !    must  she  see  me   bound  ? 

1.  Cap.     There's  the  first  sigh 

He  breath'd  since  he  was  born,  I  think. 

2.  Cap.     Forbear, 

All  but  the  Lady  his  wife. 

Soph.     How  my  heart  chides 
The  manacles  of  my  hands,  that  let  them  not 
Embrace  my  Dorigen. 

Val.     Turn  but  thy  face. 
And  ask  thy  life  of  Martius  thus,  and  thou 
(With  thy  fair  wife)  shalt  live  ;    Athens  shall  stand, 
And  all  her  priviledges  augmented  be. 

Soph.     'Twere  better  Athens  perish'd,  and  my  wife 
Which  (Romans)  I  do  know  a  worthie  one, 
Then  Sophocles  should  shrink  of  Sophocles, 
Commit  profane  Idolatry,  by  giving 
The  reverence  due  to  gods  to  thee  blown  man. 

Mar.     Rough,  stubborn   Cynick. 

Soph.     Thou  art  rougher  far, 
And  of  a  couser  wale,  fuller  of  pride, 
Less  temperate  to  bear  prosperity. 
Thou  seest  my  meer  neglect  hath  rais'd  in  thee 
A  storm  more  boystrous  then  the  Oceans, 
My  virtue,  Patience,  makes  thee  vitious. 

Mar.     Why,  fair-ey'd  Lady,  do  you  kneel  ? 

Dor.     Great  Generall, 

Victorious,  godlike  Martius,  your  poor  handmaid 
Kneels,  for  her  husband  will  not,  cannot  :    speaks 
Thus  numbly,  that  he  may  not.     Listen  Roman, 

295 


FOUR  PLAYS,  OR  MORAL 

Thou  whose  advanced   front   doth  speak  thee   Roman 

To  every   Nation,  and   whose   deeds  assure  't  ; 

Behold  a  Princess  (whose  declining  head 

Like  to  a  drooping  lilly  after  storms 

Bowes  to  thy   feet)  and  playing  here  the  slave, 

To  keep  her  husbands  greatness  unabated  : 

All  which   doth  make  thy  Conquest  greater  :    For, 

If  he   be  base  in  ought  whom   thou  hast  taken, 

Then  Martins  hath   but  taken  a  base  prize. 

But  if  this  Jewell  hold   lustre  and  value, 

Martins  is  richer  then   in  that  he  hath  won. 

O   make  him  such  a  Captive,  as  thy  self 

Unto  another   wouldst,  great  Captain,   be  ; 

Till  then,  he  is  no  prisoner  fit  for  thee. 

Mar.      Valerius,  here  is  harmonic  would   have  brought 
Old  crabbed  Saturn  to  sweet  sleep,  when  Jove 
Did  first  incense  him  with   Rebellion  : 
Athens  doth  make  women  Philosophers, 
And  sure  their  children  chat  the  talk  of  gods. 
Pal.      Rise  beauteous  Dorigen. 
Dor.     Not  untill  I  know 
The  Generals  resolution. 
Val.     One  soft  word 

From  Sophocles  would  calm  him  into  tears, 
Like  gentle  showres  after  tempestuous  winds. 

Dor.     To  buy  the  world,  he  will  not  give  a  word, 
A  look,  a  tear,  a  knee,  'gainst  his  own  judgement, 
And  the  divine  composure  of  his  minde  : 
All  which  I  therefore  doe,  and  here  present 
This  Victors  wreathe,  this  rich  Athenian  sword, 
Trophies  of  Conqu[e]st,  which,  great  Martins,  wear, 
And  be  appeas'd  :    Let  Sophocles  still  live. 
Mar.     He  would  not  live. 
Dor.      He  would  not  beg  to  live. 
When  he  shall  so  forget,  then  I   begin 
To  command,  Martins ;    and  when  he  kneels, 
Dorigen  stands  ;    when  he  lets  fall  a  tear, 
I  dry  mine  eyes,  and  scorn  him. 
Mar.     Scorn  him  now  then, 
Here  in  the  face  of  Athens,  and  thy  friends. 

296 


REPRESENTATIONS,  IN  ONE 

Self-wiird,  stiff  Sophocles,  prepare  to  die, 

And  by  that  sword  thy  Lady  honor'd  me, 

With  which  her  self  shall  follow.     Romans,   Friends, 

Who  dares  but  strike  this  stroke,  shall  part  with   me 

Half  Athens,  and  my  half  of  Viftorie. 

Cap.     By not  we. 

Nic.  Cor.     We  two  will  do  it,  Sir. 

Soph.     Away,  ye  fish-fac'd  Rascals. 

Val.     Martins, 

To  Eclipse  this  great  Eclipse  labours  thy  fame  ; 
Valerius  thy  Brother  shall  for  once 
Turn   Executioner  :    Give  me  the  sword. 
Now  Sophocles,  I'll  strike  as  suddenly 
As  thou  dar'st  die. 

Soph.     Thou  canst  not.      And   Valerius, 
'Tis  less  dishonour  to  thee  thus  to  kill  me, 
Then  bid  me  kneel  to  Martius  :    'tis  to  murther 
The  fame  of  living  men,  which  great  ones  do  ; 
Their  studies  strangle,  poyson  makes  away, 
The  wretched  hangman  only  ends  the  Play. 

Pal.     Art  thou  prepar'd  ? 

Soph.     Yes. 

Val.     Bid  thy  wife  farewell. 

Soph.     No,  I  will  take  no  leave :    My  Dorigen, 
Yonder  above,  'bout  Arladnes  Crown 
My  spirit  shall  hover  for  thee  ;    prethee  haste. 

Dor.     Stay  Sophocles,  with  this  tie  up  my  sight, 
Let  not  soft  nature  so  transform [e]d  be 
(And  lose  her  gentlefr]   sex'd  humanitie) 
To  make  me  see  my  Lord  bleed.     So,  'tis  well : 
Never  one  object  underneath  the  Sun 
Will  I  behold  before  my  Sophocles. 
Farewell  :    now  teach  the  Romans  how  to  die. 

Mar.     Dost  know  what  'tis  to  die  ? 

Soph.     Thou  dost  not,  Martius, 
And  therefore  not  what  'tis  to  live  ;    to  die 
Is  to  begin  to  live  :    It  is  to  end 
An  old  stale  weary  work,  and  to  commence 
A  newer  and  a  better.     'Tis   to  leave 
Deceitful!  knaves  for  the  societie 

297 


FOUR   PLAYS,  OR  MORAL 

Of  gods  and   goodness.     Thou  thy  self  must  part 
At  last  from  all   thy  garlands,   pleasures,  Triumphs, 
And   prove  thy   fortitude,   what  then   'twill  do. 

I/al.     But  ar't  not  grievM  nor  vex'd  to  leave   life  thus  ? 

Soph.     Why  should  I   grieve,  or  vex   for  being  sent 
To  them  I  ever  lov'd   best  ?    now  I'll  kneel, 
But  with  my  back  toward  thee  ;    'tis  the  last  duty 
This  trunk  can   doe  the  gods. 

Afar.     Strike,  strike,   Valerius^ 
Or  Martius  heart  will  leap  out  at  his  mouth. 
This  is  a  man,  a  woman  !      Kiss  thy  Lord, 
And  live  with  all   the  freedome  you  were  wont. 
O   Love  !    thou  doubly  hast  affli6ted   me, 
With  virtue,  and  with   beauty.     Treacherous  heart, 
My  hand  shall  cast  thee  quick  into  my  urne, 
E're  thou  transgress  this  knot  of  pietie. 

Val.     What  ails  my  Brother  ? 

Soph.     Martius,  oh  Martius  \ 
Thou  now  hast  found  a  way  to  conquer  me. 

Dor.     O  star  of  Rome,  what  gratitude  can  speak 
Fit  words  to  follow  such  a  deed  as  this  ? 

Mar.     Doth  Juno  talk,  or  Dorigen  ? 

Val.     You  are  observed. 

Mar.     This  admirable  Duke  (Valerius) 
With   his  disdain  of  Fortune,  and  of  Death, 
Captiv'd  himself,   hath   captivated  me  : 
And  though  my  arm  hath  ta'ne  his  body  here, 
His  soul  hath  subjugated  Martius  soul  : 
By  Romulus,  he  is  all  soul,  I  think  ; 
He  hath  no  flesh,  and  spirit  cannot  b[e]  gyv'd  ; 
Then  we  have  vanquish'd   nothing  ;    he  is   free, 
And  Martius  walks  now  in  captivitie. 

Soph.     How  fares  the  noble  Roman  ? 

Mar.     Why  ? 

Dor.     Your  blood 

Is  sunk  down  to  your  heart,  and  your  bright  eyes 
Have  lost  their  splendor. 

Mar.     Baser  fires  go  out, 

When  the  Sun  shines  on  'em  :    I  am  not  well, 
An  Apopleclick  fit  I  use  to  have 

298 


REPRESENTATIONS,  IN  ONE 

After  my  heats  in  war  carelesly  coold. 

Soph.     Martins  shall  rest  in   Athens  with  his  friends, 
Till  this  distemper  leave  him  :    O  !    great  Roman, 
See  Sophocles  doe  that  for  thee,   he  could  not 

Do   for  himself,  weep.     Martins^  by  the 

It  grieves  me  that  so  brave  a  soul  should  suffer 
Under  the  bodies  weak  infirmitie. 
Sweet  Lady,  take  him  to  thy  loving  charge, 
And  let  thy  care  be  tender. 

Dor.     Kingly  Sir, 
I  am  your  Nurse  and  servant. 

Mar.     O   deer  Lady, 

My  Mistris,  nay  my  Deity ;    guide  me  heaven, 
Ten  wreathes  triumphant  Martins  will  give, 
To  change  a  Martins  for  a  Sophocles  : 
Can't  not  be  done  (Valerius}  with  this  boot? 
Inseparable  affecStion,  ever  thus 
Colleague  with  Athens  Rome. 

Dor.     Beat  warlike  tunes, 
Whilest  Dorigen  thus  honors  Martius  brow 
With  one  victorious  wreath  more. 

Soph.      And   Sophocles 

Thus  girds  his  Sword  of  conquest  to  his  thigh, 
Which   ne'r  be  drawn,  but  cut  out  Viclorie. 

Lords.     For  ever  be  it  thus.  [Exeunt. 

Corn.     Corporall  Nichodemus^  a  word  with   you. 

Nic.  My  worthie  Sutler  Cornelius,  it  befits  not  Nichodemus 
the  Roman  Officer  to  parley  with  a  fellow  of  thy  rank  :  the 
affairs  of  the  Empire  are  to  be  occupied. 

Corn.  Let  the  affaires  of  the  Empire  lie  a  while  unoccupied, 
sweet  Nichodemus ;  I  doe  require  the  money  at  thy  hands,  which 
thou  doest  owe  me  ;  and  if  faire  means  cannot  attain,  force  of 
Armes  shall  accomplish. 

Nic.     Put   up  and  live. 

Corn.  I  have  put  up  too  much  already,  thou  Corporall  of 
Concupiscence,  for  I  suspect  thou  hast  dishonored  my  flock- 
bed,  and  with  thy  foolish  Eloquence,  and  that  bewitching  face 
of  thine  drawn  my  Wife,  the  young  harlotrie  baggage  to  prosti- 
tute herself  unto  thee.  Draw  therefore,  for  thou  shalt  find 
thyself  a  mortall  Corporall. 

299 


FOUR   PLAYS,  OR  MORAL 

Nichod.  Stay  thy  dead-doing  hand,  and  heare :  I  will  rather 
descend  from  my  honor,  and  argue  these  contumelies  with  thee, 

then  clutch  thee  (poor  flye)  in  these  eaglet of  mine  :  or  draw 

my  sword  of  Fate  on  a  Pesant,  a  Besognio^  a  Cocoloch^  as  thou 
art.  Thou  shalt  first  understand  this  foolish  eloquence,  and 
intolerable  beauty  of  mine  (both  which,  I  protest,  are  meerly 
naturall)  are  the  gifts  of  the  gods,  with  which  I  have  neither 
sent  baudy  Sonnet,  nor  amorous  glance,  or  (as  the  vulgar  call 
it)  sheeps  eye  to  thy  betrothed  Florence. 

Cor.     Thou  lyest. 

Nich.     O   gods  of  Rowe,  was  Nichodemus  born 
To  bear  these  braveries  from  a  poor  provant  ? 
Yet  when  dogs  bark,  or  when  the  asses  bray, 
The  lion  laughs,  not   roars,   but  goes  his  way. 

Cornel.     A o'  your  poeticall  veine  :  This  versifying  my 

wife  has  hornified  me.  Sweet  Corporall  codshead,  no  more 
standing  on  your  punctilio's  and  punketto's  of  honor,  they  are 
not  worth  a  lowse :  the  truth  is,  thou  art  the  Generals  Bygamie, 
that  is,  his  fool,  and  his  knave;  thou  art  miscreant  and  recreant, 
not  an  horse-boy  in  the  Legions,  but  has  beaten  thee ;  thy 
beginning  was  knap-sack,  and  thy  ending  will  be  halter-sack. 

Nich.  Me  thinks  I  am  now  Sophocles,  the  wise,  and  thou 
art  Martius,  the  mad. 

Cornel.  No  more  of  your  tricks  good  Corporall  Lether- 
chops :  I  say,  thou  hast  dishonour'd  me,  and  since  honor  now 
adaies  is  only  repaired  by  money,  pay  me,  and  I  am  satisfied : 
Even  reckoning  keeps  long  friends. 

Nic.  Let  us  continue  friends  then,  for  I  have  been  even 
with  thee  a  long  time;  and  though  I  have  not  paid  thee,  I  have 
paid  thy  wife. 

Corn.  Flow  forth  my  tears,  thou  hast  deflowred  her  Tarquin^ 
the  Garden  of  my  delight,  hedg'd  about,  in  which  there  was  but 
one  bowling  Alley  for  mine  owne  private  procreation,  thou  hast, 
like  a  thief  in  the  night,  leap'd  the  hedge,  entred  my  Alley,  and 
without  my  privitie,  plaid  thine  owne  rubbers. 

Nic.      How  long  shall  patience  thus  securely  snore  ? 
Is  it  my  fault,  if  these  attractive  eyes, 
This  budding  chin,  or  rosie-colour'd  cheek, 
This  comely   body,  and  this  waxen  leg, 
Have  drawn  her  into  a  fools  paradise  ? 

300 


REPRESENTATIONS,  IN  ONE 

By   Cupids I  do  swear  (no  other) 

She's  chaster  far  then  Lucrece^  her  grand-mother ; 

Pure  as  glass-window,  ere  the  rider  dash  it, 

Whiter  then  Ladyes  smock,  when  she  did  wash  it  : 

For  well  thou  wotst  (though   now  my  hearts  Commandress) 

I  once  was  free,  and  she  but   the  Camps  Landress. 

Corn.  I,  she  then  came  sweet  to  me  ;  no  part  about  her 
but  smelt  of  Soap-suds,  like  a  Dryad  out  of  a  wash-bowl.  Pray, 
or  pay. 

Nick.     Hold. 

Corn.     Was  thy  cheese  mouldy,  or  thy  peny-worths  small  ? 
Was  not  thy  Ale  the  mightiest  of  the  earth  in  Malt, 
And    thy  stope  fill'd  like  a  tide  :    was  not  thy  bed  soft,  and 
Thy  Bacon  fatter  then  a  dropsie  ?     Come,  Sir. 

Nich.     Mars  then   inspire   me  with   the  fencing  skill 
Of  our  Tragedi[a]n  A6lors.      Honor  pricks  ; 
And  Sutler,  now   I   come  with   thwacks  and  thwicks. 
Grant  us  one  crush,  one  pass,  and  now  a  high,  Cavalto  fall  : 
Then  up  again,  now  down   again,  yet  do  no  harm  at  all. 

Enter  Wife. 

Wife.     O   that  ever  I  was  born  :    why  Gent  ? 

Corn.  Messaline  of  Rome,  away,  disloyal  Concubine  :  I 
will  be  deafer  to  thee,  then  thou  art  to  others :  I  will  have 
my  hundred  drachma's  he  owes  me,  thou  arrant  whore. 

Wife.  I  know  he  is  an  hundred  drachmaes  o'the  score; 
but  what  o'  that  ?  no  bloodshed,  sweet  Cornelius.  O  my  heart ; 
o'  my  conscience  't  is  fain  thorow  the  bottom  of  my  bellie. 

0  my  sweet  Didimus,  if  either  of  ye  miskil  one  another,  what 
will  become  of  [p]oor  Florence?      Pacific  your  selves,  I  pray. 

Corn.  Go  to,  my  heart  is  not  stone  ;  I  am  not  marble  : 
drie  your  eyes,  Florence;  the  scurvie  apes-face  knows  my  blinde 
side  well  enough  :  leave  your  puling ;  will  this  content  ye  ?  let 
him  tast  thy  nether  lip,  which  in  signe  of  amitie  I  thus  take  off 
again  :  go  thy  ways,  and  provide  the  Cows  udder. 

Nich.     Lilie  of  Concord.     And  now,  honest  Sutler,  since 

1  have  had  proof  as  well  of  thy  good  nature,  as  of  thy  wives 
before,  I  will  acquaint  thee  with  a  project  shall  fully  satisfie 
thee   for   thy  debt.     Thou   shalt   understand   I  am   shortly  to 
be  knighted. 

301 


FOUR  PLAYS,  OR  MORAL 

Corn.     The  devil  thou  art. 

Nich.  Renounce  me  else  ;  for  the  sustenance  of  which 
Worship  (which  Worship  many  times  wants  sustenance)  I  have 
here  the  Generals  grant  to  have  the  leading  of  two  hundred  men. 

Corn.     You  jest,   you  jest. 

Nich.     Refuse  me  else  to  the  pit. 

Corn.  Mercie  on  us:  ha  you  not  forgot  your  self?  by 
you[r]  swearing  you  should  be  knighted  already. 

Nich.     Damn  me,  Sir,  here's  his  hand,  read  it. 

Corn.     Alas,  I  cannot. 

Nich.     I  know  that. 

It  has  pleas'd  the  General  to  look  upon  my  service.  Now, 
Sir,  shall  you  joyn  with  me  in  petitioning  for  fifty  men  more,  in 
regard  of  my  arrearages  to  you ;  which  if  granted,  I  will  bestow 
the  whole  profit  of  those  fifty  men  on  thee  and  thine  heirs  for 
ever,  till  Atropos  do  cut  this  simple  thred. 

Corn.  No  more,  dear  Corporal,  Sir  Nichodemus^  that  shall 
be,  I  cry  your  wishes  mercie  :  I  am  your  servant  body  and 
goods,  moveables  and  immoveables;  use  my  house,  use  my  wife, 
use  me,  abuse  me,  do  what  you  list. 

Nich.     A  figment  is  a  candid  lye  :    this  is  an  old  Pass. 
Mark  what  follows.  [Exeunt. 

Enter  Martius,  and  two  Captains. 

Mar.     Pray  leave  me  :    you  are  Romans,  honest  men, 
Keep   me  not  company,  I  am  turn'd  knave, 
Have  lost  my  fame  and  nature.     Athens,  Athens, 
This  Dorigen  is  thy  Palladium  : 
He  that  will  sack  thee,  must  betray  her  first, 
Whose  words  wound  deeper  than   her  husbands  sword  ; 
Her  eyes  make  captive  still  the  Conqueror, 
And  here  they  keep  her  only  to  that  end. 
O  subtill  devil,  what  a  golden  ball 
Did  tempt,  when  thou  didst  cast  her  in  my  way ! 
Why,  foolish  Sophocles,  broughtst  thou  not  to  field 
Thy  Lady,  that  thou  mightst  have  overcome  ? 
Martius  had  kneePd,  and  yielded  all   his  wreathes 
That  hang  like  Jewels  on  the  seven-fold  hill, 
And  bid  Rome,  send  him  out  to  fight  with   men, 
(For  that  she  knew  he  durst)  and  not  'gainst  Fate 

302 


REPRESENTATIONS,  IN  ONE 

Or  Deities,  what  mortal  conquers  them  ? 

Insatiate  Julius,  when   his  Victories 

Had  run  ore  half  the  world,  had  he  met  her, 

There  he  had  stopt  the  legend  of  his  deeds, 

Laid  by  his  Arms,  been  overcome  himself, 

And  let  her  vanquish  th'  other  half.     And  fame 

Made  beauteous  Dorigen,  the  greater  name. 

Shall  I  thus  fall  ?     I  will  not ;    no,  my  tears 

Cast  on  my  heart,  shall  quench  these  lawless  fires : 

He  conquers  best,  conquers  his  lewd  desires. 

Enter  Dorigen,  with  Ladyes. 

Dor.     Great  Sir,   my  Lord   commands  me  visit  you, 
And  thinks  your  retir'd  melancholy  proceeds 
From  some  distast  of  worthless  entertainment. 
WilPt  please  you  take  your  chamber  ?    how  d'ye  do,  Sir  ? 

Mar.     Lost,  lost  again  ;    the  wild  rage  of  my  blood 
Doth   Ocean-like  oreflow  the  shallow  shore 
Of  my  weak  virtue  :    my  desire's  a  vane, 
That  the  least  breath  from  her  turns  every  way. 

Dor.     What  says  my  Lord  ? 

Mar.     Dismiss  your  women,  pray, 
And  I'll  reveal  my  grief. 

Dor.     Leave  me. 

Mar.     Long  tales  of  love  (whilst  love  it  self 
Might  be  enjoyed)  are  languishing  delays. 
There  is  a  secret  strange  lies  in  my  brest, 
I  will  partake  wi'  you,  which  much  concerns 
Your  Lord,  your  self,  and  me.     Oh  ! 

Dor.     Strange  secrets,  Sir, 

Should  not  be  made  so  cheap  to  strangers  :    yet, 
If  your  strange  secret  do  no  lower  lie 
Then  in  your  brest,  discover  it. 

Mar.     I  will. 
Oh  !    can  you  not  see  it,  Lady,  in  my  sighs  ? 

Dor.     Sighs  none  can   paint,  and  therefore  who  can  see? 

Mar.     Scorn  me  not,  Dorigen,  with   r.ibcks  :    Alcides, 
That  master 'd  monsters,  was  by   beautie  tam'd, 
Ompbale  smil'd  his  club  out  of  his  hand, 

3°3 


FOUR  PLAYS,  OR  MORAL 

And   made  him  spin   her  smocks.     O  sweet,  I  love  you, 
And   I   love  Sophocles  :    I   must  enjoy  you, 
And  yet   I   would   not   injure   him. 

Dor.      Let  go  ; 

You  hurt  me,  Sir  :    fare  well.      Stay,   is  this  Martius  ? 
I   will   not  tell  my  Lord  ;    he'll  swear   I   lye. 
Doubt  my  fidelitie,   before  thy  honor. 
How  hast  thou  vex'd  the  gods,  that  they  would  let  thee 
Thus  violate  friendship,  hospitalitie, 
And  all  the  bounds  of  sacred  pietie  ? 
Sure  thou  but  tri'st  me  out  of  love  to  him, 
And   wouldst   reject  me,   if  I  did  consent. 

0  Martius,  Martim,  wouldst  thou  in  one  minute, 
Blast  all  thy  Laurels,  which  so  many  years 
Thou  hast  been  purchasing  with   blood  and  sweat  ? 
Hath  Dorigen  never  been  written,  read, 
Without  the  epithet  of  chast,  chast   Dorigen  ? 

And  wouldst  thou  fall  upon  her  chastitie, 

Like  a  black  drop  of  ink,  to  blot  it  out  ? 

When  men  shall  read  the  records  of  thy  valour, 

Thy  hitherto-brave  virtue,  and  approach 

(Highly  content  yet)  to  this  foul  assault 

Included  in  this  leaf,  this  ominous  leaf, 

They  shall  throw  down  the  Book,  and  read  no  more, 

Though  the  best  deeds  ensue,  and  all  conclude, 

That  ravell'd  the  whole  story,  whose  sound  heart 

(Which  should  have  been)  prov'd  the  most  leprous  part. 

Mar.     O  !    thou  confut'st  divinely,  and  thy  words 
Do  fall  like  rods  upon  me  ;    but  they  have 
Such  silken  lines,  and  silver  hooks,  that  I 
Am  faster  snar'd  :    my  love  has  ta'en  such  hold, 
That  (like  two  wrestlers)  though  thou  stronger  be, 
And  hast  cast  me,  I  hope  to  pull  thee  after. 

1  must,  or  perish. 

Dor.     Perish,  Mart'ius,  then  ; 
For  I  here  vow  unto  the  gods,  These  rocks, 
These  rocks  we  see  so  fix'd,  shall  be  removed, 
Made  champion  field,  ere  I  so  impious  prove, 
To  stain  my  Lords  bed  with  adulterous  love. 


3°4 


REPRESENTATIONS,  IN  ONE 

Enter  Valerius. 

VaL     The  gods  protect   fair  Dorigen. 

Dor.     Amen, 
From  all  you  wolvish  Romanes.  [Exit. 

VaL     Ha  ?    what's  this  ? 

Still,  brother,  in  your  moods  ?     O   th[e]n  my   doubts 
Are  truths.     Have  at  it  :    I  must  try  a  way 
To   be  resolv'd. 

Mar.     How  strangely  dost  thou  look  !    what  ailst  thou  ? 

VaL     What  ailst  thou  ? 

Mar.     Why,  I  'm  mad. 

VaL     Why,  I  [a]m  madder.      Martins,  draw  thy  sword, 
And  lop  a  villain   from   the  earth  ;    for  if 
Thou  wilt  not,  on  some  tree  about  this  place 
I'll  hang  my  self;    Valerius  shall  not  live 
To  wound  his  brothers  honor,  stain  his  Countrey, 
And   branded  with   ingratitude  to  all  times. 

Mar.     For  what  can  all  this  be  ? 

VaL     I  [a]m  in  love. 

Mar.     Why  so  am  I.     With  whom  ?    ha  ? 

Val.      Dorigen. 

Mar.     With  Dorigen  ?    how  dost  thou  love  her  ?   speak. 

VaL     Even  to  the  height  of  lust ;    and  I  must  have  her 
or  else  I   die. 

Mar.     Thou  shalt,  thou  daring  Traitor. 
On  all  the  confines  I  have  rid  my  horse, 
Was  there  no  other  woman  for  thy  choice 
But  Dorigen  ?     Why,  villain,  she  is  mine  : 
She  makes  me  pine  thus,  sullen,   mad,  and  fool  ; 
'T   is  I   must  have  her,  or  I  die. 

VaL      O  all  ye  gods, 

With  mercy  look  on  this  declining  rock 
Of  valour,  and  of  virtue  ;    breed  not  up 
(From  infancie)  in  honor,  to  full  man, 
As  you  have  done  him,  to  destroy  :    here,  strike ; 
For  I  have  onely  search'd  thy  wound  :    dispatch  ; 
Far,  far  be  such  love  from   Valerius, 
So  far  he  scorns  to  live  to  be  call'd  brother 
By  him  that  dares  own  such  folly  and  such  vice. 

B.-F.  x.  u  305 


FOUR  PLAYS,  OR  MORAL 

Mar.     'T  is  truth  thou  speak'st  ;   but  I  do  hate  it  :   peace, 
If  heaven  will  snatch   my  sword  out  of  my  hand, 
And  put  a  rattle   in   it,   what  can   I  do  ? 
He  that  is  destin'd  to  be  odious 
In  his  old  age,  must  undergo  his  fate. 

Enter  Cornelius  and  Nichodemus. 

Corn.     If  you  do  not   back  me,   I  shall  never  do't. 

Nich.     I  warrant  you. 

Corn.     Humh,  humh  :    Sir  ;    my  Lord,  my  Lord. 

Mart.     Hah  ?    what's  the  matter  ? 

Corn.  Humh  ;  concerning  the  odd  fifty,  my  Lord,  and 
't  please  your  Generality,  his  Worship,  Sir  Nichodemus. 

Mar.  What's  here  ?  a  Pass  ?  you  would  for  Rome  ?  you 
lubbers,  doth  one  days  laziness  make  ye  covet  home  ?  away, 
ye  bearish  rogues  ;  ye  dogs,  away. 

Enter  wife. 

Wife.     Oh,  oh,  oh  : 
How  now  man,  are  you  satisfi'd  ? 

Corn.    I,  I,  I  :  a o'  your  Corporal ;  I  'm  paid  soundly, 

I  was  never  better  paid  in  all  my  life. 

Wife.  Mar[r]y  the  gods  blessing  on  his  honors  heart  :  you 
have  done  a  charitable  deed,  Sir,  many  more  such  may  you 
live  to  do,  Sir  :  the  gods  keep  you,  Sir,  the  gods  protect 
you.  [Exit. 

Mar.     These  peasants  mock  me  sure  (Valerius] 
Forgive  my  dotage,  see  my  ashes  urn'd, 
And  tell   fair  Dorigen,  (she  that  but  now 
Left  me  with  this  harsh  vow,  Sooner  these  rocks 
Should  be  remov'd,  then  she  would  yield)  that  I 
Was  yet  so  loving,  on  her  gift  to  die. 

Pal.     O   Jupiter  forbid  it,  Sir,  and   grant 
This  my  device  may  certifie  thy  mind  : 
You  are  my  brother,  nor  must  perish  thus  : 
Be  comforted  :    think  you  fair  Dorigen 
Would  yield  your  wishes,   if  these  envious  rocks 
By  skill  could   be  remov'd,  or  by  fallacie 
She  made   believe  so  ? 

Mar.      Why,  she  could  not  chuse ; 

306 


REPRESENTATIONS,  IN  ONE 

The  Athenians  are  religious  in  their  vows, 
Above  all  nations. 

Val.     Soft,  down  yonder  hill 

The  Lady  comes  this  way,  once  more  to  trie  her, 
If  she  persist  in  obstinacie  :    by  my  skill 
Learn'd  from  the  old  Caldean  was  my  Tutor, 
Who  train'd  me  in  the  Mathematicks,  I  will 
So  dazle  and  delude  her  sight,  that  she 
Shall  think  this  great  impossibilitie 
Effected  by  some  supernatural  means. 
Be  confident ;    this  engine  shall  at  least, 
Till  the  gods  better  order,  still  this  brest.         [Exit  Valerius. 

Mar.     O  my  best  brother,  go  ;    and  for  reward, 
Chuse  any  part  o'th'  world,  I'll  give  it  thee. 
O  little  Rome,  men  say  thou  art  a  god  ; 
Thou  mightst  have  got  a  fitter  fool  then  I. 

Enter  Dorigen. 

Dor.     Art  thou  there,  Basilisk  ?    remove  thine  eyes, 
For  I'm  sick  to  death  with  thy  infection. 

Mar.     Yet,  yet  have  mercy  on  me  ;    save  him,  Lady, 
Whose  single  arm  defends  all  Rome,  whose  mercie 
Hath  sav'd  thy  husband's  and  thy  life. 

Dor.     To  spoil 

Our  fame  and  honors  ?    no,  my  vow  is  fixt, 
And  stands,  as  constant  as  these  stones  do,  still. 

Mar.     Then  pitie  me,  ye  gods ;    you  onely  may 
Move  her,  by  tearing  these  firm  stones  a  way. 

[Solemn  musick. 
A  mist  ariseth,  the  rocks  remove. 

Enter  Valerius  like  Mercury,  singing. 

Val.     Martius  rejoyce,   "Jove  sends  me  from  above, 
His  Messenger,  to  cure  thy  desperate  love ; 
To  shew  rash  vows  c\a\nnot  binde  destinie  : 
Lady,  behold,  the  rocks  transplanted  be. 
Hard-hearted  Dorigen,  yield,  lest  for  contempt, 
They  fix  thee  here  a  rock,  whence  they  ''re  exempt. 

Dor.     What  strange  delusion's  this  ?   what  Sorcery 

ua  307 


FOUR  PLAYS,  OR  MORAL 

Affrights  me  with   these  apparitions  ? 

My  colder  Chastity's  nigh  turn'd   to  death. 

Hence,  lewd  Magician  ;    dar'st  thou  make  the  gods 

Bawds  to  thy  lust  ;    will   they  do  miracles 

To  further  evil  ?    or  do  they  love  it  now  ? 

Know,   if  they  dare  do  so,  I  dare   hate  them, 

And  will   no  longer  serve  'em.      "Jupiter, 

Thy  golden  showr,  nor  thy  snow-white  Swan, 

Had   I  been   L<xda,  or  bright  Danae, 

Had  bought  mine  honor.     Turn   me  into  stone 

For  being  good,  and  blush  when  thou  hast  done. 

[Exit  Dorigen. 

Enter  Valerius. 

Mar.     O   my   Valerius,  all  yet  will   not  do  ; 
Unless  I  could  so  draw  mine   honestie 
Down  to  the  lees  to  be  a  ravisher  ; 
She  calls  me  witch,  and  villain. 

Val.     Patience,  Sir, 

The  gods  will  punish  perjury.     Let  her  breathe 
And  ruminate  on  this  strange  sight.     Time  decays 
The  strongest  fairest  buildings  we  can  finde  ; 
But  still  Diana,  fortifie  her  minde.  [Exeunt. 

Enter  Sophocles  and  Dorigen. 

Soph.     Weep  not  bright  Dorigen  ;    for  thou  hast  stood 
Constant  and  chaste  (it  seems  'gainst  gods  and   men) 
When    rocks  and  mountains  were    remov'd.     These  wonders 
Do  stupifie  my  senses.     Martins, 
This  is  inhumane  :    was  thy  sickness  lust  ? 
Yet  were  this  truth,  why  weeps  she  ?     Jealous  soul, 
What  dost  thou  thus  suggest  ?     Vows,  Magick,  Rocks  ? 
Fine  tales,  and  tears.     She  ne'er  complain'd  before. 
I  bade  her  visit  him  ;    she  often  did, 
Had   many  opportunities.      Humh,   'tis  naught :    O  ! 
No  way   but  this.      Come,  weep  no  more,   I   have  ponder'd 
This  miracle  :    the  anger  of  the  gods, 
Thy  vow,  my  love  to  thee,  and  Martius  : 
He   must  not  perish,  nor  thou  be  forsworn, 
Lest  worse  fates  follow  us  j    Go,  keep  thy  oath  : 

308 


REPRESENTATIONS,  IN  ONE 

For  chaste,  and  whore,  are  words  of  equal  length  : 
But  let  not  Martius  know  that  I  consent, 
O  !    I  'm  pull'd  in  pieces. 

Dor.      I  ?    say  you  so  ? 

I'll  meet  you  in  your  path.      O   wretched  men  ! 
With  all  your  valour  and  your  learning,  bubbles. 
Forgive   me,   Sophocles.      Yet  why  kneel  I 
For  pardon,  having  been  but  over-diligent, 
Like  an  obedient  servant,  antedating 

My  Lords  command  ?    Sir,  I  have  often,  and  already  given 
This  bosom  up  to  his  embraces,  and 
Am  proud  that  my  dear  Lord  is  pleas'd  with   it  ; 
Whose  gentle  honorable  minde  I  see 
Participates  even   all,  his  wife  and  all, 
Unto  his  friend.     You  are  sad,   Sir.     Martius  loves  me, 
And  I  love  Martius  with   such  ardencie, 
As  never  married   couple  could  :    I  must 
Attend   him  now.     My  Lord,  when  you  have  need 
To  use  your  own  wife,  pray  Sir  send  for  me  ; 
Till  then,  make  use  of  your  Philosophic.  [Exit. 

Soph.     Stay,  Dorigen  :    O   me,   inquisitive   fool  ! 
Thou  that  didst  order  this  congested  heap 
When  it  was  Chaos,  'twixt  thy  spacious  palms 
Forming  it  to  this  vast   rotundie  ; 
Dissolve  it  now  ;    shuffle  the  elements, 
That  no  one  proper  by  it  self  may  stand  : 
Let  the  sea  quench  the  sun,  and  in  that  instant 
The  sun  drink  up  the  sea  :    day,  ne'er  come  down, 
To  light  me  to  those  deeds  that  must  be  done.  [Exit. 

Drums  and  Colours. 

Enter  Martius,   Valerius,   Captains  and  soldiers,  at  one 
door,  and  Dorigen  with  Lad\i\es,  at  another. 

Dor.      Hail,   General  of  Rome  ;    from  Sophocles 
That  honors  Martius,  Dorigen  presents 
Her  self  to  be  dishonour'd  :    do  thy  will ; 
For  Sophocles  commands  me  to  obey. 
Come,  violate  all  rules  of  holiness, 
And  rend  the  consecrated  knot  of  love. 

Mar.     Never,   Valerius,  was  I  blest  till  now  : 

3°9 


FOUR  PLAYS,  OR  MORAL 

Behold  the  end   of  all   my  weary  steps, 
The  prize  of  all   my   Battels  :    leave  us  all  ; 
Leave  us  as  quick  as  thought.     Thus  joy  begin, 
In   zealous  love  a  minutes  loss  is  sin. 

Val.      Can  Martins  be  so  vile  ?    or  Dorigen  ? 

Dor.     Stay,  stay,  and  monster,  keep  thou  further  of; 
I   thought  thy   brave  soul   would  have  much,  much   loath'd 
To  have  gone  on  still  on  such   terms  as  this. 
See,  thou   ungrateful,  since  thy  desperate  lust 
Nothing  can  cure   but  death,  I'll  die  for  thee, 
Whilst  my  chaste  name   lives  to  posterity. 

Mar.     Live,  live,  thou   Angel  of  thy  sex  :    forgive, 
Till   by   those  golden  tresses  thou  be'st  snatch'd 
Alive  to   Heaven  :    for  thy  corruption's 
So  little,  that  it  cannot  suffer  death. 
Was  ever  such  a  woman  ?    O   my  mirror  ! 
How  perfectly  thou  shew'st  me  all  my  faults, 
Which  now  I  hate,  and  when  I  next  attempt  thee, 
Let  all  the  fires  in  the  Zodiak 
Drop  on  this  cursed  head. 

AIL     O  blest  event  ! 

Dor.     Rise  like  the  sun  again  in  all  his  glory, 
After  a  dark  Eclipse. 

Mar.     Never  without  a  pardon. 

Enter  Sophocles,  and  two  or  three  with  him. 

Dor.     Sir,  you  have  forgiven  your  self. 

Soph.     Behold  their  impudence  :    are  my  words  just  ? 
Unthankful  man,  viper  to  Arms,  and  Rome 
Thy  natural  mother ;    have   I   warm'd   thee  here 
To  corrode  ev'n  my  heart?    Martins,  prepare 
To  kill  me,  or  be  kill'd. 

Mar.     Why  Sophocles  ? 

Then  prethee  kill  me  ;    I  deserve  it  highly  ; 
For  I  have  both  transgressed  'gainst  men,  and  gods  ; 
But  am  repentant  now,  and  in  best  case 
To  uncase  my  soul  of  this  oppressing  flesh  ; 
Which,  though  (Gods  witness)  nev'r  was  actually 
Injurious  to  thy  wife  and  thee,  yet  't  was 
Her  goodness  that  restrain'd  and  held  me  now : 

310 


REPRESENTATIONS,  IN  ONE 

But  take  my  life,  dear  friend,  for   my  intent, 
Or  else  forgive  it. 

o 

Val.      By  the  gods  of  Athens, 
These  words  are  true,  and  all  direct  again. 

Soph.      Pardon   me,  Dorigen. 

Mar.     Forgive  me,   Sophocles, 
And  Dorigen  too,  and  every  one  that  's  good. 

Dor.     Rise,  noble  Roman,   belov'd  Sophocles, 
Take  to  thy  brest  thy  friend. 

Mar.     And  to  thy  heart 

Thy  matchless  wife  :    Heaven  has  not  stuff  enough 
To  make  another  such  :    for  if  it  could, 
Martins  would  marry  too.     For  thy  blest  sake 
(O   thou  infinitie  of  excellence) 
Henceforth  in  mens  discourse   Rome  shall   not  take 
The  wall  of  Athens,  as   'tofore.     But  when 
In  their  fair  honors  we  to  speak  do  come, 
We'll  say  JT  was  so  in  Athens,  and  in   Rome. 

\_Exeun\i\  in  pomp. 

Diana  descends. 

Diana.      Honor  set  ope  thy  gates,  and  with  thee  bring 
My  servant  and  thy  friend,  fair  Dorigen  : 
Let  her  triumph,   with  her,   her  Lord,   and  friend, 
Who,  though  misled,  still  honor  was  their  end. 

[Flourish. 

Enter  the  Shew  of  Honors  Triumph  ;  a  great  flourish  of 
Trumpets  and  Drums  within  ;  Then  enter  a  noise  of  Trumpets 
sounding  cheerfully.  Then  follows  an  armed  Knight  bearing  a 
Crimson  Banneret  in  hand,  with  the  inscription  Valour  :  by 
his  side  a  Lady,  bearing  a  Watchet  Banneret,  the  inscription 
Clemencie:  next  Martius  and  Sophocles  with  Coronets.  Next, 
two  Lad[f]es,  one  bearing  a  white  Banneret,  the  inscription 
Chastity  :  the  other  a  black,  the  inscription  Constancie.  Then 
Dorigen  crowned.  Last,  a  Chariot  drawn  by  two  Moors,  in 
it  a  Person  crown  d,  with  a  Scepter :  on  the  top,  in  an  antick 
Scutcheon,  is  written  Honor.  As  they  pass  over,  Diana  ascends. 

Rinald.     How  like  you  it  ? 

Frig.     Rarely  ;   so  well,  I  would  they  would  do  it  again. 

3" 


FOUR  PLAYS,  OR  MORAL 

How  many  of  our  wives  now  adays  would  deserve  to  triumph 
in  such  a  Chariot  ? 

Rinald.    That's  all  one;  you  see  they  triumph  in  Caroches. 

Frig.  That  they  do,  by  the  mass  ;  but  not  all  neither  ; 
many  of  them  are  content  with  Carts.  But  Seignior,  I  have 
now  found  out  a  great  absurditie  i'faith. 

Rinald.     What  was  't  ? 

Frig.  The  Prologue  presenting  four  Triumphs,  made 
but  three  legs  to  the  King  :  a  three-legged  Prologue,  't  was 
monstrous. 

Rinald.  'T  had  been  more  monstrous  to  have  had  a  four- 
legg'd  one.  Peace,  the  King  speaks. 

Em.      Here  was  a  woman,  Isabel. 

ha.     I,  my  Lord, 

But  that  she  told  a  lye  to  vex  her  husband  ; 
Therein  sh[e]   fail'd. 

Em.     She  serv'd  him  well  enough  ; 
He  that  was  so  much  man,  yet  would  be  cast 
To  jealousie  for  her  integrity. 
This  teacheth  us,  the  passion  of  love 
Can  fight  with  Soldiers,  and  with  Scholars  too. 

ha.     In  Martins,  clemencie  and  valour  shown, 
In  the  other,  courage  and  humanitie  ; 
And  therefore  in  the  Triumph  they  were  usher'd 
By  clemencie  and  valour. 

Em.     Rightly  observed, 
As  she  by  chastitie  and  co'nstancie  ; 
What  hurt  's  now  in  a  Play,  against  which  some  rail 
So  vehemently  ?    thou  and  I,  my  love, 
Make  excellent  use  methinks :    I  learn  to  be 
A  lawful  lover  void  of  jealousie, 
And  thou  a  constant  wife.      Sweet  Poetry  's 
A  flower,  where  men,  like  Bees  and   Spiders,   may 
Bear  poison,  or  else  sweets  and  Wax  away. 
Be  venom-drawing  Spiders  they  that  will  ; 
I'll  be  the  Bee,  and  suck  the  honey  still.  [Flourish. 

Cupid  descends. 

Cupid.     Stay,  clouds,  ye  rack  too  fast  :    bright  Phoebus  see, 
Honor  has  triumphed  with  fair   Chastity  : 

312 


REPRESENTATIONS,  IN  ONE 

Give  Love  now  leave,  in  purity  to  shew 
Unchaste  affe[£f\ions  file  not  from  his  bowe. 

Produce  the  sweet  example  of  your  youth. 

Whilst  I  provide  a    Triumph  for  your  Truth. 

[Flourish. 

Enter  Violanta  (with  childe]  and  Gerrard. 

Viol.     Why  does  my   Gerr\a\rd  grieve  ? 

Ger.     O   my  sweet   Mistris, 
'T   is  not  life  (which  by  our  Milain  law 
My  fa6t  hath   forfeited)  makes  me   thus  pensive  ; 
That  I  would  lose  to  save  the  little  finger 
Of  this  your  noble  burthen,  from  least  hurt, 
Because  your  blood  is  in't.      But  since  your  love 
Made  poor  incompatible  me  the  parent, 
(Being  we  are  not   married)  your  dear  blood 
Falls  under  the  same  cruel  penalty  ; 
And  can   Heaven  think  fit  ye  die  for  me  ? 
For  Heavens  sake  say  I  ravisht  you,  I'll  swear  it, 
To  keep  your  life,  and  repute  uristain'd. 

Viol.     O   Gerrard,  th'   art  my  life  and  faculties : 
And   if  I  lose  thee,  I'll  not  keep  mine  own  ; 
The  thought  of  whom,  sweetens  all  miseries. 
Wouldst  have  me  murder  thee  beyond  thy  death  ? 
Unjustly  scandal  thee  with   ravishment  ? 
It  was  so  far  from  rape,  that   Heaven  doth  know, 
If  ever  the  first  Lovers,   ere  they  fell, 
Knew  simply   in   the  state  of  innocence, 
Such   was  this  act,  this,  that  doth  ask  no  blush. 

Ger.      O  !    but  my   rarest   Violanta,  when 
My  Lord  Randulpho  brother  to  you[r]   father, 
Shall  understand  this,  how  will  he  exclaim, 
That  my  poor  Aunt,  and  me,   which  his  free  alms 
Hath  nurs'd,  since  Millain  by  the  Duke  of  Mantua 
(Who  now  usurps  it)  was  surpriz'd  ?    that  time 
My  father  and  my  mother  were  both  slain, 
With  my  Aunts  husband,  as  she  says,  their  states 
Despoil'd  and  seiz'd  ;    'tis  past  my  memory, 
But  thus  she  told  me  :    onely  thus  I  know, 
Since  I  could  understand,  your  honor'd   Uncle 


FOUR   PLAYS,  OR  MORAL 

Hath  given   me  all  the   liberal   education, 

That  his  own  son  might  look  for,  had   he  one  ; 

Now  will  he  say,   Dost   thou   requite  me   thus  ? 

0  !    the  thought  kills  me. 

Viol.      Gentle,   gentle   Gerrard, 

Be  cheer'd,  and  hope  the   best.     My   mother,  father, 
And  uncle  love  me  most  indulgently, 
Being  the  onely   branch  of  all   their  stocks  : 
But  neither  they,   nor  he  thou  wouldst  not  grieve 
With  this  unwelcom   news,  shall  ever  hear 
Violantas  tongue   reveal,  much  less  accuse 
Gerrard  to  be  the  father  of  his  own  ; 
I'll   rather  silent  die,   that  thou  maist   live 
To  see  thy  little  of-spring  grow  and  thrive. 

Enter  Dorothea. 

Dor.     Mistris,  away,  your  Lord  and  father  seeks  you  ; 
I'll  convey   Gerrard  out  at  the   back  door  ; 
He  has  found  a  husband  for  you,  and  insults 
In  his  invention,  little  thinking  you 
Have  made  your  own  choice,  and  possest  him  too. 

Viol.     A   husband  ?    't  mus[t]   be   Gerrard,  or  my  death. 
Fare  well  ;    be  onely  true  unto  thy  self, 
And  know  Heavens  goodness  shall  prevented  be, 
Ere  worthiest   Gerrard  suffer  harm   for  me. 

Ger.     Fare  well,  my  life  and  soul.     Aunt,  to  your  counsel 

1  flee  for  aid.      O  unexpressible  love  !    thou  art 
An  undigested  heap  of  mixt  extremes, 

Whose  pangs  are  wakings,  and  whose  pleasures  dreams. 

\Exeunt. 
Enter  Benvoglio,  Angelina,  Ferdinand. 

Ben.     My  Angelina,  never  didst  thou  yet 
So  please  me,  as  in  this  consent  ;    and  yet 
Thou  hast  pleas'd  me  well,  I  swear,  old  wench  :    ha,  ha. 
Ferdinand,  she 's  thine  own  ;    thou'st  have  her,   boy, 
Ask  thy  good  Lady  else. 

Ferd.     Whom  shall  I   have,  Sir  ? 

Ben.     Whom  d'  ye  think,  ifaith  ? 

Angel.     Ghess. 

Ferd.     Noble  Madam, 


REPRESENTATIONS,  IN  ONE 

I  may  hope  (prompted  by  shallow  merit) 

Through  your  profound  grace,  for  your  chamber-maid. 

Ben.     How  's  that  ?    how  's  that  ? 

\Ferd.     Her  chamber-maid,  my  Lord. 

Ben.']      Her  chamber-pot,  my  Lord.     You  modest  ass, 
Thou  never  shew'dst  thy  self  an  ass  till  now. 
'Fore  Heaven  I  am  angrie  with  thee.     Sirha,  sirha, 
This  whitmeat  spirit's  not  yours,  legitimate, 
Advance  your  hope,  and  't  please  you  :    ghess  again. 

A ng.      And  let  your  thoughts  flee  higher  :   aim  them  right ; 
Sir,  you  may  hit,  you  have  the  fairest  white. 

Ferd.     If  I  may   be  so  bold  then,  my  good  Lord, 
Your  favour  doth  encourage  me  to  aspire 
To  catch  my  Ladyes  Gentlewoman. 

Ben.     Where  ? 

Where  would  you  catch  her  ? 
Do  you  know  my  daughter  Violanta,  Sir  ? 

Ang.     Well  said  :    no  more  about  the  bush. 

Ferd.     My  good  Lord, 
I  have  gaz'd  on  yiolanta^  and  the  stars, 
Whose  Heavenly  influence  I  admir'd,  not  knew, 
Nor  ever  was  so  sinful  to  believe 
I  might  attain  't. 

Ben.     Now  you  are  an  ass  again  ; 
For  if  thou  ne'er  attain'st,   't  is  onely  long 
Of  that  faint  heart  of  thine,  which  never  did  it. 
She  is  your  Lords  heir,  mine,  Benvog/io's  heir, 
My  brothers  too,  Randulpho^  ;    her  descent 
Not  behinde  any  of  the  Millanois. 
And  Ferdinand,  although  thy  parentage 
Be  unknown,  thou  know'st  that  I  have  bred  thee  up 
From  five  yeers  old,  and  (do  not  blush  to  hear  it) 
Have  found  thy  wisdom,  trust,  and  fair  success 
So  full  in  all  my  affa[ir]s,  that  I  am   fitter 
To  call  thee  Master,  then  thou  me  thy  Lord. 
Thou  canst  not  be  but  sprang  of  gentlest  blood  ; 
Thy  minde  shines  thorow  thee,  like  the  radiant  sun, 
Although  thy  body   be  a  beauteous  cloud. 
Come,   seriously  this  is  no  flatterie, 
And  well  thou  know'st  it,  though  thy  modest  blood 

315 


FOUR  PLAYS,  OR  MORAL 

Rise  like  the  morning  in   thy  cheek  to  hear  't. 

Sir,  I  can  speak  in  earnest  :    Vertuous  service, 

So  meritorious,   Ferdinand,  as  yours, 

(Yet   bashful  still,  and  silent  ?)  should  extract 

A  fuller  price  then   impudence  exa6t  : 

And   this   is   now  the  wages   it   must  have  ; 

My   daughter  is  thy   wife,  my   wealth   thy  slave. 

Ferd.     Good  Madam  pinch  ;   I  sleep  :   does  my  Lord  mock, 
And  you  assist  ?    Custom  's  inverted  quite  ; 
For  old  men  now  adays  do  flout  the  young. 

Ben.      Fetch   f^iolanta.      As  I   intend   this 
Religiously,  let  my  soul  finde  joy  or  pain.        [Exit  Angelina. 

Ferd.     My  honor'd  Lord  and   Master,   if  I  hold 
That  worth   could  merit  such  felicitie, 
You   bred   it  in   me,  and   first   purchas'd  it  ; 
It   is  your  own  :    and  what  productions 
In  all  my   faculties  my  soul  begets, 
Your  very  mark  is  on  :    you  need  not  add 
Rewards  to  him,  that  is  in  [djebt  to  you  : 
You  sav'd  my  life,  Sir,  in   the   Massacre  ; 
There  you   begot  me  new,  since   foster'd   me. 

0  !    can  I  serve  to[o]   much,  or  pray  for  you  ? 
Alas,   'tis  slender  paiment  to  your  bountie. 
Your  daughter  is  a  paradice,  and   I 
Unworthie  to  be  set  there  ;    you  may  chuse 
The  royalst  seeds  of  Milain, 

Ben.     Prethee  peace, 
Thy  goodness  makes  me  weep  ;    I   am  resolv'd  : 

1  am  no  Lord  o'  th'  time,  to  tie  my  blood 
To  sordid   muck  ;    I  have  enough  :    my  name, 
My   [s]tate  and   honors  I  will  store  in   thee, 
Whose  wisdom  will   rule  well,   keep  and   increase  : 
A  knave  or  fool,   that  could  confer  the  like, 
Would   bate  each  hour,  diminish  every  day. 
Thou  art  her  price-lot  th[e]n,   drawn   out  by   fate  ; 
An   honest  wise  man  is  a  Princes  mate. 

Ferd.     Sir,   Heaven   and  you  have  over-charg'd  my   brest 
With  grace  beyond  my  continence  ;    I  shall   burst  : 
The  blessing  you  have  given   me  (witness  Saints) 
I  would  not  change  for  Millam.     But,  my  Lord, 

316 


REPRESENTATIONS,  IN  ONE 

Is  she  prepar'd  ? 

Ben.  What  needs  Preparative, 

Where  such  a  Cordial  is  prescrib'd  as  them  ? 
Thy  person  and   thy  virtues  in  one  scale, 
Shall  poize  hers,   with  her  beautie  and  her  wealth  ; 
If  not,   I  add   my  will  unto  thy  weight  ; 
Thy  mother 's  with  her  now.     Son,  take  my  keys, 
And  let  this  prepar[a]tion  for  this  Marriage, 
(This  welcome  Marriage)  long  determined  here, 
Be  quick,  and  gorgeous. — Gerrard. 

Enter  Gerrard. 

Ger.     My  good  Lord, 

My  Lord,  your  brother  craves  your  conference 
Instantly,  on  affairs  of  high  import. 

Ben.      Why,  what  news  ? 

Ger.     The  Tyrant,  my  good  Lord, 
Is  sick  to  death  of  his  old  Apoplexie, 
Whereon  the  States  advise,  that  Letters-missive 
Be  straight  dispatcht  to  all  the  neighbour-Countreys, 
And  Schedules  too  divulg'd  on  every  post, 
To  enquire  the  lost  Duke  forth  :    their  purpose  is 
To  re-instate  him. 

Ben.     'Tis  a  pious  deed. 
Ferdinand,  to   my  daughter  :    this  delay 
(Though   to  so  good  a  purpose)  angers  me ; 
But  I'll   recover  it.     Be  secret,  son. 
Go  woo  with   truth  and  expedition.  [Exit. 

Ferd.     O   my  unsounded  joy  !    how  fares  my   Gerrard, 
My   noble  twin- friend  ?    fie,  thy  l[oo]k  is  heavie, 
Sullen,  and  sowre  ;    blanch   it  :    didst  thou  know 
My  cause  of  joy,  thou  'Idst  never  sorrow  more, 
I  know  thou  lov'st  me  so,   How  dost  thou  ? 

Ger.      Well, 

Too  well  :    my  fraught  of  health   my  sickness  is  ; 
In   life,  I  am  dead  ;    by  living  dying  still. 

Ferd.     What  sublunary  mischief  can   predominate 
A  wise  man  thus  ?    or  doth  thy  friendship  play 
(In  this  antipathous  extreme)  with  mine, 
Lest  gladness  suffocate  me  ?    I,  I,  I  do  feel 

31/ 


FOUR  PLAYS,  OR  MORAL 

My  spirit's  turn'd   to   fire,   my   blood   to  air, 
And   I  am   like  a  puriri'd  essence 
Tri'd   from  all   drossie  parts. 

Ger.     Were   't  but   my   life, 
The  loss  were  sacrificed  ;    but  virtue 
Must  for  me  be  slain,  and  innocence  made  dust. 

Ferd.      Fare  well  good   Gerrard. 

Ger.     Dearest  friend,  stay. 

Ferd.     Sad  thoughts  are  no  companions  for  me  now, 
Much  less  sad  words  :    thy  bosom  bindes  some  secret, 
Which   do  not  trust  me  with  ;    for  mine  retains 
Another,  which   I  must  conceal   from  thee. 

Ger.     I  would  reveal  it  :    't  is  a  heavie  tale  : 
Canst  thou  be  true,  and  secret  still  ? 

Ferd.     Why,  friend  ? 
If  you  continue  true  unto  your  self, 
I  have  no  means  of  falshood.     Lock  this  door  ; 
Come,  yet  your  prisoner 's  sure. 

Ger.     Stay,  Ferdinand. 

Ferd.     What  is  this  trouble  ?    Love  ? 
Why,  thou  art  capable  of  any  woman. 
Doth  want  oppress  thee  ?    I  will  lighten  thee  : 
Hast  thou  offended  law  ?     My  Lord  and  thine, 
And  I,  will  save  thy  life.     Does  servitude 
Upbraid  thy   freedom,  that  she  suffers  it  ? 
Have  patience  but  three  days,  and   I  will  make  thee 
Thy  Lords  companion.      Can  a  friend   do  more  ? 

Ger.     Lend   me  the  means.     How  can  this  be  ? 

Ferd.     First    let    this    Cabinet    keep    your    pawn,    and    I 

will  trust  : 

Yet   for  the  form  of  satisfaction, 
Take  this  my  Oath  to  boot.     By  my  presum'd 
Gentrie,  and  sacred  known   Christianitie, 
I'll  die,  ere  I  reveal  thy  trust. 

Ger.     Then  hear  it. 
Your  Lords  fair  daughter   Violanta  is 
My  betrothed  wife,  goes  great  with   childe  by  me  ; 
And  by  this  deed  both  made  a  pr[e]y  to  Law. 
How  may  I  save  her  life  ?    advise  me,  friend. 

Ferd.     What  did  he  say  ?  Gerrard,  whose  voice  was  that  ? 

318 


REPRESENTATIONS,  IN  ONE 

0  death  unto  my  heart,  bane  to  my  soul ! 

My  wealth  is  vanish'd   like  the  rich  mans  store  : 
In  one  poor  minute  all  my  daintie  fare 
But  jugling  dishes ;    my  fat  hope,  despair. 

Ger.     Is  this  so  odious  ?    where  's  your  mirth  ? 

Ferd.     Why  thou 

Hast  robb'd  me  of  it.      Gerrard,  draw  thy  sword  ; 
And  if  thou  lov'st  my  Mistris  chastitie, 
Defend  it,  else  I'll  cut  it  from  thy  heart, 
Thy  theevish  heart  that  stole  it,  and  restore  't, 
Do  miracles  to  gain   her. 

Ger.     Was  she  thine  ? 

Ferd.     Never,  but  in  my  wish,  and  her  fathers  vow, 
Which  now  he  left  with  me,  on  such  sure  terms  ; 
He  calPd  me  son,  and  will'd  me  to  provide 
My  Wedding-preparation. 

Ger.     Strange. 

Ferd.     Come,  let's 
Kill  one  another  quickly. 

Ger.     Ferdinand,  my  love  is  old  to  her,  thine  new  begot  : 

1  have  not  wrong'd  thee  ;    think  upon  thine  Oath. 

Ferd.     It  manacles  me,   Gerrard,  else  this  hand 
Should  bear  thee  to  the  Law.     Fare  well  for  ever  : 
Since  friendship   is  so  fatal,   never  more 
Will  I  have  friend  :    thou  hast  put  so  sure  a  plea, 
That  all  my  weal's  litigious  made   by  thee. 

Ger.     I  did  no  crime  to  you.      His  love  transports  him; 
And  yet  I  mourn,  that  cruel  destinie 
Should  make  us  two  thus  one  anothers  cross  : 
We  have  lov'd  since  boys  ;    for  the  same  time  cast  him 
On   Lord  Benvoglio,  that  my  Aunt  and  I 
Were  succour'd  by  Randulpho  :    men  have  call'd  us 
The  parallels  of  Milla'm  ;    and  some  said 
We  were  not  much  unlike.      O   Heaven  divert, 
That  we  should  (ever  since  that  time)  be  breeding 
Mutual  destruction. 

Enter  Dorothea. 

Dor.     O  where  are  you  ?   you  have  made  a  fair  hand.     By 
yonder  is  your  Aunt  with  my  Lady  ;   she  came  in,  just 

3*9 


FOUR  PLAYS,  OR   MORAL 

as  she  was  wooing  your  Mistris  for  another  ;  and  what  did 
me  she,  but  out  with  her  purse,  and  shew'd  all  the  naked 
truth,  ifaith.  Fie  upon  you,  you  should  never  trust  an  old 
woman  with  a  secret  ;  they  cannot  hold  ;  they  cannot  hold 
so  well  as  we,  and  you'ld  hang  'em.  First,  there  was 
swearing  and  staring,  then  there  was  howling  and  weeping, 
and  O  my  daughter,  and  O  my  mother. 

Ger.     The  effed,  the  effed. 

Dor.     Marry  no  way,  but  one  with  you. 

Ger.     Why  welcom.     Shall  she  scape  ? 

Dor.     Nay,  she  has  made  her  scape  already. 

Ger.     Why,  is  she  gone  ? 

Dor.     The  scape  of  her  virginitie,  I  mean. 
You  men  are  as  dull,  you  can  conceive  nothing  ; 
You  think  it  is  enough  to  beget. 

Ger.     I  ;    but  surely,  Dorothea,   that  scap'd  not  ; 
Her  maiden-head  suffer'd. 

Dor.     And  you  were  the  Executioner. 

Ger.    But  what's  the  event?  lord,  how  thou  starv'st  me,  Doll  \ 

Dor.     Lord  how  thou  starv'st  me,  Doll  ?  By I  would 

fain  see  you  cry  a  little.  Do  you  stand  now,  as  if  you  could 
get  a  child  ?  Come,  I'll  rack  you  no  more  :  This  is  the  heart 
of  the  business  :  always  provided,  Signior,  that  if  it  please  the 
fates  to  make  you  a  Lord,  you  be  not  proud,  nor  forget  your 
poor  handmaid  ZW/,  who  was  partly  accessary  to  the  incision 
of  this  Holofernian  Maidenhead. 

Ger.     I   will   forget  my  name  first.     Speak. 

Dor.  Then  thus  ;  My  Lady  knows  all  ;  her  sorrow  is 
reasonably  well  digested  ;  has  vow'd  to  conceal  it  from  my 
Lord,  till  delay  ripen  things  better  ;  Wills  you  to  attend  her 
this  evening  at  the  back  gate  ;  I'll  let  you  in  ;  where  her 
own  Confessor  shall  put  you  together  lawfully,  e'r  the 
child  be  born ;  which  birth  is  very  near,  I  can  assure 
you  :  all  your  charge  is  your  vigilance ;  and  to  bring  with 
you  some  trusty  Nurse,  to  convey  the  Infant  out  of  the 
house. 

Ger.     Oh  beam  of  comfort,  take  !    go,  tell   my  Lady 
I  pray  for  her  as  I  walk  :    my  joys  so  flow, 
That  what  I  speak  or  do,  I  do  not  know.  [Exeunt. 


320 


REPRESENTATIONS,  IN  ONE 

Dumb  Shew. 

Enter  Violanta  at  one  door,  we[e~]ping,  supported  by  Cornelia  and 
a  Frier ;  at  another  door,  Angelina  weeping,  attended  by 
Dorothea.  Violanta  kneels  down  for  pardon.  Angelina 
shewing  remorse,  takes  her  up,  and  cheers  her ;  so  doth 
Cornelia.  Angelina  sends  Dorothea  for  Gerrard.  Enter 
Gerrard  with  Dorothea :  Angelina  and  Cornelia  seem  to 
chide  him,  shewing  Violanta's  heavy  plight  :  Violanta  re- 
joyceth  in  him  :  he  makes  signes  of  sorrow,  intreating  pardon  : 
Angelina  brings  Gerrard  and  Violanta  to  the  Frier ;  be 
joyns  them  hand  in  hand,  takes  a  Ring  from  Gerrard,  puts 
it  on  Violanta's  finger  ;  blesseth  them  ;  Gerrard  kisseth  her  : 
the  Frier  takes  his  leave.  Violanta  makes  shew  of  great 
pain,  is  instantly  conveyed  in  by  the  Women,  Gerrard  is  bid 
stay ;  he  walks  in  meditation,  seeming  to  pray.  Enter 
Dorothea,  whispers  him,  sends  him  out.  Enter  Gerrard 
with  a  Nurse  blindfold ;  gives  her  a  purse.  'To  them  Enter 
Angelina  and  Cornelia  with  an  Infant ;  they  present  it  to 
Gerrard  ;  he  kisseth  and  blesseth  it ;  puts  it  into  the  Nurses 
arms,  kneels,  and  takes  his  leave.  Exeunt  all  severally. 

Enter  Benvoglio  and  Randulpho. 

Ben.     He's  dead,  you  say  then. 

Rand.     Certainly  :    and  to  hear 
The  people  now  dissect  him  now  he's  gone, 
Makes  my  ears  burn,  that  lov'd  him  not  :    such  Libels, 
Such  Elegies  and  Epigrams  they  have  made, 
More  odious  than   he  was.     Brother,  great  men 
Had  need   to  live  by  love,  meting  their  deeds 
With  virtues  rule  ;    sound,  with  the  weight  of  judgement, 
Their  privat'st  action  :    for  though  while  they  live 
Their  power  and  policie  masque  their  villanies, 
Their  bribes,  their  lust,  pride,  and  ambition, 
And  make  a  many  slaves  to  worship  'em, 
That  are  their  flatterers,  and  their  bawds  in  these  : 
These  very  slaves  shall,  when  these  great  beasts  dye, 
Publish  their  bowels  to  the  vulgar  eye. 

Ben.     'Fore  Heaven  'tis  true.     But  is  Rinaldo  (brother)  our 
good  Duke,  heard  of  living  ? 

B.-F.  X.  X  321 


FOUR  PLAYS,  OR  MORAL 

Rand.     Living,  Sir,  and  will  be  shortly  with  the  Senate: 

has 

Been  close  conceal'd  at  Mantua,  and   reliev'd  : 
But  what's  become  of  his  ?    no  tidings  yet  ? 
But  brother,  till  our  good  Duke  shall  arrive, 
Carry  this  news,  here.     Where's  your  Ferdinand  ? 

Ben.  Oh  busie,  Sir,  about  this  marriage  : 
And  yet  my  Girl  o'th'  suddain  is  fall'n  sick  : 
You'll  see  her  e'r  you  go  ? 

Rand.     Yes  ;    well  I   love   her  ; 
And  yet  I  wish  I  had  another  daughter 

To  gratifie  my   Gerrard,  who  (by ) 

Is  all  the  glory  of  my   family, 

But  has  too  much  worth  to   [l]ive  so  obscure  ; 

I'll  have  him  Secretary  of  Estate 

Upon  the  Dukes  return  :    for  credit  me, 

The  value  of  that  Gentleman's  not  known  ; 

His  strong  abilities  are  fit  to  guide 

The  whole  Republique  :    he  hath   Learning,  youth, 

Valour,  discretion,   honesty  of  a  Saint ; 

His  Aunt  is  wondrous  good  too. 

Enter  Violanta  in  a  bed ;    Angelina  and  Dorothea 

sitting  by  her. 

Ben.      You  have  spoke 
The  very  character  of  Ferdinand : 
One  is  the  others  mirror.      How   now,   Daughter  ? 

Rand.      How  fares  my  Neece  ? 

Viol.  A  little  better,  Uncle,  then  I  was, 
I  thank  you. 

Rand.     Brother,  a  meer  cold.  (thanked 

Angel.      It  was  a  cold  and  heat,  I  think  :    but  Heaven  be 
We  have  broken   that  away. 

Ben.      And   yet,   Violanta, 
You'll  lie  alone  still,  and  you  see  what's  got. 

Dor.     Sure,  Sir,  when  this  was  got,  she  had  a  bed-fellow. 

Rand.     What  has  her  chollick  left  her  in   her   belly  ? 

Dor.     'T  has  left  her,  but  she  has  had  a  sore  fit. 

Rand.     I,  that  same  Collick  and   Stone's  inherent  to  us. 
O'  th'  womans  side  :    our  Mothers  had  them  both. 

322 


REPRESENTATIONS,  IN  ONE 

Dor.    So  has  she  had,  Sir.     How  these  old  fornicators  talk  ! 

she  had  more 

Need  of  Mace-Ale,  and  Rhenish-wine  Caudles,  heaven  knows, 
Then  your  aged  Discipline. 

Ben.     Say  ? 

Enter  Ferdinand. 

Ang.     She  will  have  the  man  ;    and  on  recovery 
Will  wholly   be  dispos'd  by  you. 

Ben.     That's  my  wench  : 

How  now  ?    what  change  is  this  ?    why  Ferdinand \ 
Are  these  your  Robes  of  joy  should  be  indu'd  ? 
Doth   Hymen  wear  black  ?    I  did  send  for  you 
To  have  my  honorable  Brother  witness 
The  Contract  I  will  make  'twixt  you  and  her. 
Put  off  all  doubt  ;    she  loves  ye  ?    what  d'  ye  say  ? 

Rand.      Speak  man,  Why  look  you  so  distractedly  ? 

Ferd.     There  are  your  keys,  [Sir  :]   I'll  no  Contra6l[s,  I] 
Divinest   V\i\olanta,  I  will  serve  you 

Thus  on  my  knees,  and  pray  for  you  :   ^Juno,  Luclna  fer  opem. 
My  inequality  ascends  no  higher  : 
I  dare  not  marry  you. 

Ben.      How's   this  ? 

Ferd.     Good  night, 

I  have  a  friend  has  almost  made  me  mad  : 
I  weep  sometimes,  and  instantly  can  laugh  : 
Nay,  I   do  dance,  and  sing,  and  suddenly 
Roar  like  a  storm.     Strange  tricks  these,  are  they  not  ? 
And  wherefore  all  this  ?     Shall  I  tell  you  ?    no, 
Thorow  mine  ears,  my  heart  a  plague  hath  caught, 
And  I  have  vow'd  to  keep  it  close,  not  shew 
My  grief  to  any  ;    for  it  has  no  cure. 
On,  wandring  steps,  to  some  remote  place  move  : 
I'll  keep  my  vow,  though  I  have  lost  my  Love.  [Exit. 

Ben.     'Fore  heaven,  distracted  for  her  !    fare  you  well : 
I'll  watch  his  steps  ;    for  I  no  joy  shall  find, 
Till  I  have  found   his  cause,  and  calm'd  his  mind.        [Exit. 

\_Rand.~]      He's  overcome  with  joy. 

Ang\e\l.     'Tis  very  strange. 

Rand.     Well,  Sister,  I  must  leave  you  ;   the  time's  busie. 

X2  323 


FOUR   PLAYS,  OR   MORAL 

^  chear  you   up  ;    and  1   pray   Heaven 
Restore  each   to  their  love,  and   health  again.  \Exit. 

Viol.     Amen,   Great   Uncle.      Mother,  what  a  chance 
Unluckily   is  added   to  my   woe, 
In   this  young  Gentleman  ! 

Ang\e\l.      True,   Violanta  : 

It  grieves  me  much.      Do/7,  go  you   instantly, 
And  find  out  Gerrard  \    tell  him  his  friends  hap, 
And  let  him  use  best  means  to  comfort  him  ; 
But  as  his  life  preserve  this  secret  still. 

Viol.     Mother,  I'ld  not  offend  you  :    might  not   Gerrard 
Steal  in,  and  see  me  in  the  evening  ? 

Angel     Well, 
Bid  him  do  so. 

Viol.      Heavens  blessing  o'  your  heart. 
Do  ye   not  call   Child-bearing,  Travel,  Mother  ? 

Angel.      Yes. 

Viol.     It  well  may  be,     The  bare-foot  traveller 
That's  born  a  Prince,  and  walks  his  pilgrimage, 
Whose  tender  feet  kiss  the  remorseless  stones 
Only,   ne'er  felt  a  travel   like  to  it. 
Alas,  dear  Mother,  you  groan'd  thus  for  me, 
And  yet  how  disobedient  have  I  been  ! 

Angel.     Peace,   Violanta^  thou   hast  always  been 
Gentle  and  good. 

Viol.     Gerrard  is  better,  Mother  : 
Oh  if  you  knew  the  implicite  innocency 
Dwells  in   his  brest,  you'ld  love  him  like  your   Prayers. 
I  see  no  reason  but  my  Father  might 
Be  told   the  truth,  being  pleas'd   for   Ferdinand 
To  wooe   himself:    and   Gerard  ever  was 
His  full  comparative  :    my  Uncle  loves  him, 
As   he  loves  Ferdinand. 

Angel.      No,   not  for  the  world, 
Since  his  intent  is  cross'd  :    lov'd  Ferdinand 
Thus  ruin'd,  and  a  child  got  out  of  wedlock  : 
his  madness  would  pursue  ye  both  to  death. 

Viol.      As  you  please  (mother  :)  I  am  now,  methinks, 
Even   in  the  land  of  ease  ;    I'll  sleep. 

Angel.      Draw   in 

324 


REPRESENTATIONS,  IN  ONE 

The  bed  nearer  the  fire  :    silken   rest, 

Tie  all  thy  cares  up.  [Exeunt. 

Enter  Ferdinand  and  Benvoglio  privately  after  him. 

Ferd.     Oh  blessed  solitude  !   here  my  gi"ief[s]  may  speak  ; 
And  sorrow,  I   will  argue  with  thee  now  : 
Nothing  will  keep  me  company  :    the  flowers 
Die  at  my  moan  ;    the  gliding  silver  streams 
Hasten  to  flee  my  lamentations  ; 
The  air  rolls  from   'em  ;    and  the  Golden  Sun 
Is  smother'd  pale  as  Phoebe  with  my  sighs  : 
Only  the  earth   is  kind,  that  stays.     Then  earth, 
To  thee  will  I  complain.     Why  do  the  Heavens 
Impose  upon  me  Love,  what  I  can  ne'er  enjoy  ? 
Before  fruition  was  impossible, 
I  did  not  thirst  it.      Gerrard,  she  is  thine, 
Seal'd  and  deliver'd  ;    but  'twas  ill  to  stain 
Her  virgin  state,  e'r  ye  were  married. 
Poor  Infant,  what's  become  of  thee  ?    thou  know'st  not 
The  woe  thy  parents  brought  thee  t[o].     Dear  earth, 
Bury  this  close  in  thy  sterility  ; 
Be  barren  to  this  seed,  let  it  not  grow  ; 
For  if  it  do,  'twill   bud  no  Violet 
Nor  Gillyflower,  but  wild  Brier,  or  rank  Rue, 
Unsavory  and  hurtful. 

Ben.      Ferdinand, 
Thy  steel  hath  digg'd  the  Earth,  thy  words  my  Heart. 

Ferd.     Oh  !    I  have  violated  faith,  betraid 
My  friend  and  innocency. 

Ben.     Desperate  youth, 
Violate  not  thy  soul  too  :    I  have  showers 
For  thee,  young  man  ;    but  Gerrard  flames  for  thee. 
Was  thy  base  pen  made  to  dash  out  mine  honor, 
And  prostitute  my  Daughter  ?     Bastard,  whore, 
Come,  turn  thy  femal  tears  into  revenge, 
Which  I  will  quench  my  thirst  with,  e'r  I  see 
Daughter,  or  Wife,  or  branded  Family. 

By both   dye  :    and  for  amends, 

Ferd'nando  be  my  heir.     I'll  to  my  brother, 
First  tell  him  all,  then  to  the  Duke  for  justice  : 

325 


FOUR  PLAYS,  OR  MORAL 

This  morning  he's  receiv'd.      Mountains  nor  Seas 

Shall   bar  my   flight  to  vengeance  :    the  foul  stain 

Printed  on   me,   thy  bloud  shall  rinse  again.  [Exit. 

Ferd.     I   have  transgress'd  all  goodness,  witlesly 
Rais'd  mine  own  cursfes]   from  posterity  : 
I'll   follow,  to  redress  in   what  I   may  ; 
If  not,  your  heir  can   dye  as  well  as  they.  [Exit. 

Dumb  Shew. 

Enter  Duke  Rinaldo  with  Attendants,  at  one  door  ;  States, 
Randulpho,  and  Gerrard,  at  another  :  they  kneel  to  the  Duke, 
he  accepts  their  obedience,  and  raises  them  up  :  they  prefer 
Gerrard  to  the  Duke,  who  entertains  him  :  they  seat  the  Duke 
in  State.  Enter  Benvoglio  and  Ferdinand  :  Benvoglio 
kneels  for  justice;  Ferd.  seems  to  restrein  him.  Benvog.  gives 
the  Duke  a  paper  ;  Duke  reads,  frowns  on  Gerr.  shews 
the  paper  to  the  States,  they  seem  sorry,  consult,  cause  the 
Guard  to  apprehend  him  ;  they  go  off  with  him.  Then 
Rand,  and  Benv.  seem  to  crave  justice  ;  Duke  vows  it, 
and  exit  with  his  attendants.  Rand.  Ben.  and  Ferd. 
confer.  Enter  to  them  Cornelia  with  two  servants  ;  she 
seems  to  expostulate,  Rand,  in  scorn,  causeth  her  to  be 
thrust  out  poorly.  Exit  Rand.  Benv.  beckons  Ferd.  to  him 
(with  much  seeming  passion]  swears  him  ;  then  stamps 
with  his  foot.  Enter  Dorothea  with  a  Cup,  weeping,  she 
delivers  it  to  Ferd.  who  with  discontent  exit ;  and  exeunt 
Benvoglio  and  Dorothea. 

Enter  Violanta. 

Viol.      Gerrard  not  come  ?    nor  Dorothy  return'd  ? 
What  averse  star  rul'd  my  Nativity  ? 
The  time  to  night  has  been  as  dilatory 
As  languishing  Consumptions.     But  till  now 
I  never  durst  say,  my   Gerrard  was  unkind. 
Heaven  grant  all  things  go  well  ;    and  nothing  does, 
If  he  be  ill,  which  I  much  fear  :    my  dreams 
Have  been  portentous.     I  did  think  I  saw 
My  Love  araid   for  battel  with  a  beast, 
A  hideous  Monster,  arm'd  with  teeth  and  claws, 
Grinning,  and  venemous,  that  sought  to  make 

326 


REPRESENTATIONS,  IN  ONE 

Both  us  a  prey  :    on's  tail  wa[s]   lash'd  in  bloud 
Law  :    and  his  forehead  I  did  plainly  see 
Held  Characters  that  spell'd  Authority. 
This  rent  my  slumbers  ;    and  my  fearful  soul 
Ran  searching  up  and   down  my  dismaid  breast, 
To  find  a  Port  t'escape.     Good  faith,  I  am  cold  ; 
But  Gerrard's  love  is  colder  :    here  I'll  sit, 
And  think  my  self  away. 

Enter  Ferdinand  with  a   Cup  and  a  Letter. 

Ferd.     The  peace  of  Love 
Attend  the  sweet  Violanta  :    Read, 
For  the  sad  news  I  bring,  I  do  not  know  ; 
Only  I  am  sworn  to  give  you  that,  and  this. 

VioL     Is  it  from   G[e]rrard  ?    gentle   Ferdinand^ 
How  glad  am  I  to  see  you  thus  well  restor'd  ! 
In  troth  he  never  wrong'd  you  in  his  life, 
Nor  I,  but  always  held  fair  thoughts  of  you, 
Knew  not  my  Fathers  meaning,  till  of  late ; 
Could  never  have  known  it  soon  enough  :    for  Sir, 
Gerrard's,  and  my  affection  began 
In   infancy  :    My  Uncle  brought  him  oft 
In  long  coats  hither  ;    you  were  such  another ; 
The  little  boy  would  kiss  me,  being  a  child, 
And  say,   he  lov'd  me  ;    give  me  all  his  toys, 
Bracelets,  Rings,  Sweet-meats,  all  his  Rosie-smiles  : 
I   then  would  stand,  and  stare  upon  his  eyes, 
Play  with  his  locks,  and  swear  I  lov'd  him  too  ; 
For  sure,   methought,  he  was  a  little  Love, 
He  woo'd  so  prettily  in   innocence, 
That  then  he  warm'd  my  fancy  ;    for  I  felt 
A  glimmering  beam  of  Love  kindle  my  bloud, 
Both  which,  time  since  hath  made  a  flame  and  floud. 

Per.     Oh  gentle  innocent  !    methinks  it  talks 
Like  a  child  still,  whose  white  simplicity 
Never  arriv'd  at  sin.     Forgive  me,  Lady, 
I  have  destroy'd   Gerrard,  and  thee  ;    rebell'd 
Against  Heavens  Ordinance  ;    dis-pair'd  two  Doves, 
Made  'em  sit  mourning  ;    slaughter'd  Love,  and  cleft 
The  heart  of  all  integrity.     This  breast 

327 


FOUR  PLAYS,  OR  MORAL 

Was  trusted  with   the  secret  of  your  vow 
By   Gerrard,  and   reveal'd   it  to  your  Father. 

Viol.      Hah  ! 

Ferd.      Read,  and  curse  me. 

Viol.     Neither  :    I  will  never 
Nor  Write,  nor  Read  again. 

Ferd.     My  pennance  be  it. 

Reads.      Your  Labyrinth  is  found,  your  Lust  proclaimed. 

Viol.     Lust  ?    Humh  : 
My  Mother  sure  felt  none,  when  I  was  got. 

Fer.      /,  and  the  Law  implacably  ojfend\i\d. 
Gerrard's  imprison  d,  and  to  dye. 

Viol     Oh  Heaven! 

Ferd.     And  you  to  suffe[r~\   with  reproach  and  scoffs 
A  publick  execution  ;    /  have  sent  you 
An  Antidote  Against  shame,  poison  ;    by  him 
You  have  most  wronged  :  give  him  your  penitent  tears. 

Viol.     Humh  :    'tis  not  truth. 

Ferd.      Drink,  and  far  ewe  I  for  ever: 
And  though  thy  whoredom  blemish  thy  whol\e\   line, 
Prevent  the  Hangmans  stroke,  and  die  like  mine. 

Viol.     Oh  woe  is  me  for  Gerrard :    I  have  brought 
Confusion  on  the  noblest  Gentleman 
That  ever  truly  lov'd.     But  we  shall  meet 
Where  our  condemners  shall  not,  and  enjoy 
A  more  refin'd  affection  than  here  ; 
No  Law,  nor  Father  hinders  marriage  there 
'Twixt  souls  Divinely  affi'd,  as  (sure)  ours  were  : 
There  we  will  multiply,  and  generate  joyes 
Like  fruitful  Parents.      Luckless  Ferdinand, 
Where's  the  good  old  Gentlewoman,  my  Husbands  Aunt  ? 

Ferd.     Thrust  from  you  Uncle   [t]o  all  poverty. 

Viol.     Alas  the  pi[t]y  :    reach  me,  Sir,  the  cup  ; 
I'll  say  my  prayers,  and  take  my  Fathers  Physick. 

Ferd.     Oh  villain  that  I   was,  I  had  forgot 
To  spill  the  rest,  and  am  unable  now 
To  stir  to  hinder  her. 

Viol.     What  ail  you,  Sir  ? 

Ferd.     Your  Father  is  a  monster,  I  a  villain, 
This  tongue  has  kill'd  you,  pardon,   Violant\a\, 

328 


REPRESENTATIONS,  IN  ONE 

Oh  pardon,   Gerrard ;    and  for  sacrifice, 
Accept  my  life,  to  expiate  my  fault. 
I  have  drunk  up  the  poison. 

Viol.     Thou  art  not  so 
Uncharitable  :    a  better  fellow  far, 
Thou'st  left  me  halfe.     Sure  death   is  now  a-dry, 
And  calls  for  more  bloud  still  to  quench  his  thirst. 
I  pledge  thee  Ferdinand,  to   Gerrards  health  : 
Dear  Gerrard^  poor  Aunt,  and  unfortunate  friend, 
Ay  me,  that  Love  should  breed  true  Lovers  end. 

Per.     Stay  Madam,  stay  ;  help  hoa,  for  Heavens  sake  help  ; 
Improvident  man,  that  good  I  did  intend 
For  satisfaction,  saving  of  her  life, 
My  equal  cruel  Stars  made  me  forget. 

Enter  Angelina  with  two  Servants. 

Ang.     What  speftacle  of  death  assaults  me  ?    oh  ! 

Viol.     M[y]   dearest  Mother,  I  am  dead,  I  leave 
Father,  and  friends,  and  life,  to  follow  Love. 
Good  Mother,  love  my  Child,  that  did  no  ill. 
Fie,  how  men  lie,  that  say,  death   is  a  pain  : 
Or  has  he  chang'd  his  nature  ?    like  soft  sleep 
He  seizes  me.     Your  blessing.     Last,  I  crave, 
That  I  may  rest  by   Gerrard  in  his  grave. 

Ferd.     There  lay  me  too :    oh  !    noble  Mistriss,  I 
Have  caus'd  all  this ;    and  therefore  justly  dye. 
That  key  will  open  all. 

Ang.     Oh  viperous   Father  ! 

For  Heavens  sake,  bear  'em   in  :    run  for  Physitians, 
And  Medicines  quickly  :    Heaven,  thou  shalt  not  have  her 
Yet  ;    'tis  too  soon  :    Alas,  I  have  no  more, 
And  taking  her  away,  thou  rob'st  the  poor.  [Exeunt. 

Flourish. 

Enter  Duke,  States,   Randulpho,  Benvoglio, 
Gerrard,  Executioner,   Guard. 

Duke.     The  Law,  as  greedy  as  your  red  desire 
Benvoglio^  hath  cast  this  man  :    'Tis  pity 
So  many  excellent  parts  are  swallow'd  up 
In  one  foul  wave.     Is  Violanta  sent  for  ? 

329 


FOUR  PLAYS,  OR  MORAL 

Our  Justice   must  not  lop  a  branch,  and  let 
The  body  grow  still. 

Ben.     Sir,  she   will   be  here 
Alive  or  dead,   I  am  sure. 

[G]^r.      How  chearfully  my  countenance  comments  death  ! 
That  which   makes  men  seem  horrid,   I  will  wear 
Like  to  an   Ornament.     Oh   Violanta  \ 
Might  my  life  only  satisfie  the  Law, 
How  jocundly  my  soul  would  enter  Heaven  ! 
Why  shouldst  thou  dye?    thou  wither'st  in   thy   bud, 
As  I  have  seen  a  Rose,  e'er  it  was  blown. 
I  do  beseech  your  Grace,  the  Statute  may 
(In  this  case  made)  be  read  :    not  that  I  hope 
T'extenuate  my  offence  or  penalty, 
But  to  see  whether  it  lay  hold  on  her. 
And  since  my  death  is  more  exemplary 
Than  just,  this  publick  Reading  will  advise 
Caution  to  others. 

Duke.     Read  it. 

Ran.     Brother,  does  not 
Your  soul  groan  under  this  seventy  ? 

Statute  read. 

A  Statute  provided  in  case  of  unequal  Matches,  Marriages 
against  Parents  consent,  stealing  of  Heirs,  Rapes,  Prostitu- 
tions, and  such  like  :  That  if  any  person  meanly  descended, 
or  ignorant  of  his  own  Parentage,  which  implies  as  much, 
shall  with  a  foul  intent,  unlawfully  sollicite  the  Daughter 
of  any  Peer  of  the  Dukedom,  he  shall  for  the  same  offence 
forfeit  his  right  hand :  but  if  he  further  prostitute  her  to 
his  Lust,  he  shall  first  have  his  right  hand  cut  off,  and 
then  suffer  death  by  the  common  Executioner.  After  whom, 
the  Lady  so  offending,  shall  likewise  the  next  day,  in  the  same 
manner,  dye  for  the  Fatt. 

Ger.     This  Statute  has  more  cruelty  than  sense  : 
I  see  no  ray  of  Mercy.     Must  the  Lady 
Suffer  death  too  ?    suppose  she  were  inforc'd, 
By  some  confederates  born  away,  and  ravish'd  ; 
Is  she  not  guiltless  ? 

33° 


REPRESENTATIONS,  IN  ONE 

Duke.     Yes,  if  it  be  prov'd. 

Ger.     This  case  is  so  :    I  ravish'd  Violanta, 

State.     Who  ever  knew  a  Rape  produce  a  child  ? 

Ben.     Pish,  these  are  idle.     Will  your  grace  command 
The  Executioner  proceed  ? 

Duke.     Your  Office. 

Ger.     Farewell  to  thy  inticing  vanity, 
Thou  round  gilt  box,  that  dost  deceive  man's  eye  : 
The  wise  man  knows,  when  open  thou  art  broke, 
The  treasure  thou  includ'st,   is  dust  and  smoke, 
Even  thus,  I  cast  thee  by.     My  Lords,  the  Law 
Is  but  the  great  mans  mule,  he  rides  on  it, 
And  tramples  poorer  men  under  his  feet ; 
Yet  when  they  come  to  knock  at  yon  bright  Gate, 
Ones  Rags  shall  enter,  'fore  the  others  State. 
Peace  to  ye  all  :    here,  sirrah,  strike  :    this  hand 
Hath   Violanta  kiss'd  a  thousand  times  ; 
It  smells  sweet  ever  since :    this  was  the  hand 
Plighted  my  faith  to  her  :    do  not  think  thou  canst 
Cut  that  in  sunder  with  my  hand.     My  Lord, 
As  free  from  speck  as  this  arm  is,  my  heart 
Is  of  foul  Lust,  and  every  vein  glides  here 
As  full  of  truth.      Why  does  thy  hand  shake  so  ? 
'Tis  mine  must  be  cut  off,  and  that  is  firm ; 
For  it  was  ever  constant. 

Enter  Cornelia. 

Cor.     Hold ;    your  Sentence 
Unjustly  is  pronounced,  my  Lord  :    this  blow 
Cuts  your  hand  off;    for  his  is  none  of  yours  : 
But  fao/anta's  given  in   Holy  marriage 
Before  she  was  delivered,  consummated 
With  the  free  Will  of  her  Mother,  by  her  Confessor, 
In  Lord  Benvogtio's  house. 

Ger.     Alas  good  Aunt, 
That  helps  us  nothing  ;    else  I  had  reveaPd  it. 

Duke.     What  woman's  this  ? 

Ben.     A  base  confederate 
In  this  proceeding,  kept  of  alms  long  time 
By  him  ;    who  now  expos'd  to  misery, 

331 


FOUR  PLAYS,  OR  MORAL 

Talks  thus  distractedly.     Attach   her,   Guard. 

Ran.     Your  cruelty  (brother)  will   have  end. 

Cor.     You'd  best 
Let  them  attach  my  tongue. 

Duke.     Good   woman,   peace  : 

For  were  this  truth,  it  doth   not  help   thy  Nephew  ; 
The   Law's  infring'd   by  their  disparity, 
That  forfeits  both  their  lives. 

Cor.      Sir,  with  your  pardon, 
Had   your  Grace  ever  children  ? 

Duke.     Thou  hast  put 

A  question,   whose  sharp  point  toucheth   my  heart  : 
I  had  two  little  Sons,  twins,  who  were  both 
(With  my  good  Dutchess)  slain,  as  I  did  hear  ; 
At  that  time  when   my  Dukedom  was  surpriz'd. 

Cor.     I  have  heard   many  say  (my  gracious  Lord) 
That  I  was  wondrous  like  her. 

All.     Ha  ? 

Duke.     By  all  mans  joy,  it  is  Cornelia, 
My  dearest  wife. 

Cor.     To  ratifie  me  her, 

Come  down,  Alphonso,  one  of  those  two  twins, 
And  take  thy  Fathers  blessing :    thou  hast  broke 
No  Law,  thy  birth  being  above  thy  wives  : 
Ascanio  is  the  other,  nam'd  Fernando, 
Who  by  remote  means,  to  my  Lord  Benvoglio 
I   got  preferr'd ;    and  in  poor  habits  clad, 
(You  fled,  and  th'   innovation  laid  again) 
I  wrought  my  self  into  Randulpbo's  service, 
With  my  eldest  boy  ;    yet  never  durst  reveal 
What  they  and  I  were,  no,  not  to  themselves, 
Until  the  Tyrants  death. 

Duke.     My  joy  has  fill'd  me 
Like  a  full-winded  sail  :    I  cannot  speak. 

Ger.     Fetch    Violanta  and  my  brother. 

Ben.     Run, 

Run  like  a  spout,  you  rogue  :    a o'  poison, 

That  little  whore  I  trusted,  will  betray  me. 

Stay,  hangman,  I   have  work  for  you  ;    there's  Gold  ; 

Cut  off  my  head,  or  hang  me  presently. 

332 


REPRESENTATIONS,  IN  ONE 

Soft  Musick. 

Enter  Angelina  with  the  bodies  of  Ferdinand  and  Violanta 
on  a  bier ;  Dorothea  carrying  the  Cup  and  Letter^  which 
she  gives  to  the  Duke  :  he  reads,  seems  sorrowful ;  shews 
it  to  Cornelia  and  Gerrard  :  they  lament  over  the  bier. 
Randulpho  and  Benvoglio  seem  fearful,  and  seem  to  re- 
port to  Angelina  and  Dorothea,  what  hath  passed  before. 

Ran.     This  is  your  rashness,   brother. 

Duke.     Oh  joy,  thou  wert  too  great  to  last ; 
This  was  a  cruel  turning  to  our  hopes, 
Unnatural  Father  :    poor  Ascan'w. 

Ger.     Oh  mother  !    let  me  be   Gerrard  again, 
And  follow   Violanta. 

Cor.     Oh  my  Son — 

Duke.     Your  lives  yet,  bloudy   men  shall  answer  this. 

Dor.     I  must  not  see  'em  longer  grieve.     My  Lord, 
Be  comforted  ;    let  sadness  generally 
Forsake  each  eye  and  bosom  ;    they  both  live  : 
For  poison,  I  infus'd  meer  Opium  ; 
Holding  compulsive  perjury  less  sin 
Than  such  a  loathed  murther  would  have  bin. 

AIL     Oh   blessed  Ma[iden]. 

Dor.     Musick,  gently  creep 
Into  their  ears,  and  fright  hence  lazy  sleep. 
Morpheus,  command  thy  servant  sleep 
In  leaden  chains  no  longer  keep 
This  Prince  and  Lady  :    Rise,  wake,  rise, 
And  round  about  convey  your  eyes  : 
Rise  Prince,  go  greet  thy  Father  and  thy  Mother  ; 
Rise  thou,  t'imbrace  thy   Husband  and  thy  Brother. 

Duke  Cor.     Son,  Daughter. 

Ferd.     Father,  Mother,  Brother. 

Ger.     Wife. 

y'wL     Are  we  not  all  in   Heaven  ? 

Ger.     Faith,  very  near  it. 

Ferd.     How  can   this  be  ? 

Duke.     Hear  it. 

Dor.     If  I  had  serv'd  you  right,  I  should  have  seen 
Your  old  pate  off,  e'r  I  had  reveald. 

333 


FOUR   PLAYS,  OR  MORAL 

Ben.     Oh   wench  ! 

Oh   honest  wench  !    if  my  wife  die,  I'll   marry   thec  : 
There's  my   reward. 

Ferd.     'Tis  true. 

Duke.     'Tis  very  strange. 

Ger.     Why  kneel  you  honest   Master  ? 

Ferd.     My  good  Lord. 

Ger.     Dear   Mother. 

Duke.     Rise,  rise,  all  are  friends  :    I  owe  ye 
for  all  their  boards  :    And  wench,  take  thou  the  man 
Whose  life  thou  sav'dst  ;    less  cannot  pay  the  merit. 
How  shall  I  part  my  kiss  ?    I  cannot  :    Let 
One  generally  therefore  joyn  our  cheeks. 
A   pen  of  Iron,  and  a  leaf  of  Brass, 
To  keep  this  Story  to  Eternity  : 
And  a  Promethean   Wit.      Oh   sacred   Love, 
Nor  chance,  nor  death  can  thy  firm  truth  remove.      \Exeunt. 

King.      Now  Isabella.  [Flourish. 

Isab.     This  can  true  Love  do. 
I  joy  they  all  so  happily  are   pleasM  : 
The  Ladies  and  the  Brothers  must  triumph. 

King.     They  do  : 
For   Cupid  scorns  but  t'  have  his  triumph   too.  [Flourish. 

The  TRIUMPH. 

Enter  divers  Musicians,  then  certain  Singers  bearing  Bannerets 
inscribed^  Truth,  Loyalty,  Patience,  Concord  :  Next  Gerrard 
and  Ferdinand  with  Garlands  of  Roses :  Then  Violanta,  Last, 
a  Chariot  drawn  by  two  Cupids,  and  a  Cupid  sitting  in  it. 

[Flourish. 

Enter  PROLOGUE. 

Love,  and  the  strength  of  fair  affection 

(Most  royal  Sir]  what  long  seenid  lost,  have  won 

Their  perfect  ends,  and  crowned  those  constant  hearts 

With  lasting  Triumph,   whose  most  virtuous  parts, 

Worthy  desires,  and  love,  shall  never  end. 

Now  turn  we  round  the  Sctene,  and  {Great  Sir]  lend 

A  sad  and  serious  eye  to  this  of  Death, 

334 


REPRESENTATIONS,  IN  ONE 

This  black  and  dismal  Triumph  ;    where  man's  breath, 
Desert,  and  guilty  bloud  ascend  the  Stage, 

Amd  view  the   Tyrant,  ruind  in  his  rage.  [Exit. 

[Flourish. 

Enter  L'avall,  Gabriella  and  Maria. 

Gab.     No,  good  my  Lord,   I  am  not  now  to  find 
Your  long  neglect  of  me  ;    All  those  affections 
You  came  first  clad  in  to  my  love,  like  Summer, 
Lusty  and  full  of  life  :    all  those  desires 
That  like  the  painted  Spring  bloom'd  round  about  ye, 
Giving  the  happy  promise  of  an   Harvest, 
How   have  I  seen  drop  off,  and  fall  forgotten  ! 
With  the  least  lustre  of  anothers  beauty, 
How  oft  (forgetful  Lord)  have  I  been   blast [e]d  ! 
Was  I  so  eas'ly  won  ?    or  did  this  body 
Yield  to  your  false  embraces  with   less  labour 
Then  if  you  had  carried  some  strong  Town  ? 

Lav.      Good   Gabriella. 

Gab.     Could  all  your  subtilties  and  sighs  betray  me. 
The  vows  ye  shook  me  with,  the  tears  ye  drown'd  me, 
Till  I  came  fairly  off  with   honor'd  Marriage  ? 
Oh  fie,  my  Lord. 

Lav.     Prethee  good   Gabriella. 

Gab.     Would  I  had  never  known  ye,  nor  your  honors, 
They  are  stuck  too  full  of  griefs  :    oh  happy  women, 
That  plant  your  Love   in  equal   honest  bosoms, 
Whose  sweet  desires  like   Roses  set  together, 
Make  one  another  happy  in  their  blushes, 
Growing  and  dying  without  sense  of  greatness, 
To  which  I  am  a  slave  !    [and]   that  blest  Sacrament 
That  daily  makes  millions  of  happy  mothers,  link'd  me 
To  this  man's  Lust  alone,  there  left  me. 
I  dare  not  say  I  am  his  wife,  'tis  dangerous  : 
His  Love,  I  cannot  say  :    alas,  how  many  ?  (know, 

Lav.     You  grow  too  warm  ;  pray  [ye  be]  content,  you  best 
The  times  necessity,  and  how  our  marriage 
Being  so  much   unequal   to  mine   honor, 
While  the  Duke  lives,  I  standing  high   in  favour ; 
And  whilst  I   keep  that  safe,  next  to  the  Dukedom, 

335 


FOUR  PLAYS,  OR  MORAL 

Must  not  be  known,  without  my  utter  ruine. 

Have  patience  for  a  while,  and  do   but  dream  wench, 

The  glory  of  a  Dutchess.      How  she  tires  me  ! 

How  dull  and   leaden   is  my  appetite 

To  that  stale  beauty   now  !    oh,  I  could  curse 

And  crucifie  my  self  for  childish   doating 

Upon  a  face  that  feeds  not  with   fresh   Figures 

Every  fresh  hour  :    she  is  now  a  surfet  to  me. 

Enter  Gentille. 

Who's  that  ?    Gentille  ?    I  charge  ye,  no  acquaintance 
You  nor  your  Maid  with   him,  nor  no  discourse 
Till  times  are  riper. 

Gent.     Fie,  my  Noble  Lord, 
Can  you  be  now  a  stranger  to  the  Court, 
When  your  most  virtuous  Bride,  the  beauteous   Hellena 
Stands  ready  like  a  Star  to  gild  your  happiness, 
When  Hymens  lusty  fires  are  now  a  lighting, 
And  all  the  Flower  of  Anjou  ? 

Lav.     Some  few  trifles, 
For  matter  of  adornment,  have  a  little 
Made  me  so  slow,   Gentille^  which  now  in  readiness, 
I  am  for  Court  immediately. 

Gent.     Take  heed,  Sir, 

This  is  no  time  for  trifling,  nor  she  no  Lady 
To  be  now  entertain'd  with  toys  :    'twill  cost  ye — 

Lav.     Y'are  an  old   Cock,   Gentille. 

Gent.     By  your  Lordships  favour. 

Lav.     Prethee  away;    'twill  lose  time. 

Gent.     Oh  my  Lord, 
Pardon  me  that  by  all  means. 

Lav.     We  have  business 
A-foot  man,  of  more  moment. 

Gent.     Then  my  manners  ? 
I  know  none,  nor  I  seek  none. 

Lav.     Take  to  morrow.  (Beauty. 

Gent.     Even    now,   by    your    Lordships    leave.     Excellent 
My  service  here  I  ever  dedicate, 
In   honor  of  my  best  friend,  your  dead  Father, 
To  you  his  living  virtue,  and  wish   heartily, 

336 


REPRESENTATIONS,  IN  ONE 

That  firm  affection  that  made  us  two  happy, 
May  take  as  deep  undying  root,  and  flourish 
Betwixt  my  Daughter  Casta,  and  your  goodness, 
Who  shall  be  still  your  servant. 

Gab.     I  much  thank  ye. 

Lav.     [o']  this  dreaming  puppy.     Will  ye  go,  Sir  ? 

Gent.     A  little  more,  Good   Lord. 

Lav.     Not  now,  by 

Come,  I  must  use  ye. 

Gent.     Goodness  dwell  still  with  you. 

[Exeunt  Gentill  and  Laval. 

Gab.     The  sight  of  this  old  Gentleman,  Marla^ 
Pulls  to  my  mine  eyes  again  the  living  Piclure 
Of  Perolot  his  virtuous  Son,  my  first  Love, 
That  dy'd  at   Orleance. 

Mar.     You  have  felt  both  fortunes, 
And  in  extreams,  poor  Lady;    for  young  Perolot, 
Being  every  way  unable  to  maintain  you, 
Durst  not  make  known  his  love  to  Friend  or  Father  : 
My  Lord  Lavall,  being  powerful,  and  you  poor, 
Will  not  acknowledge  you. 

Gab.     No  more  :    Let's  in  wench  : 

There  let  my  Lute  speak  my  Laments,  they  have  t[ir]ed  me. 

[Exeunt. 

Enter  two  Courtiers. 

1  Court.     I  grant,  the  Duke  is  wondrous  provident 
In  his  now  planting  for  succession, 

I  know  his  care  as  honourable  in  the  choice  too. 
Marines  fair  virtuous  daughter  ;    but  what's  all  this  ? 
To  what  end  excellent  arrives  this  travel, 
When  he  that  bears  the  main  roof  is  so  rotten  ? 

2  Court.     You  have  hit  it  now  indeed :  For  if  Fame  lye  not 
He  is  untemperate. 

i  Court.     You  express  him  poorly, 
Too  gentle  Sir  :    the  most  deboist  and  barbarous  ; 
Believe  it,  the  most  void  of  all  humanity, 
Howe'r  his  cunning,  cloak  it  to  his  Uncle, 
And  those  his  pride  depends  upon. 

[2]  Court.     I  have  heard  too, 

B.-F.  x.  Y  337 


FOUR  PLAYS,  OR  MORAL 

Given  excessively  to  drink. 

1  Court.      Most  certain, 

And  in  that  drink  most  dangerous  :    I  speak  these  things 
To  one  I   know  loves  truth,  and  dares  not  wrong  her. 

2  Court.     You  may  speak  on. 

1  Court.      Uncertain  as  the  Sea,  Sir, 
Proud  and   deceitful  as  his  sins  Great  Master  ; 
His  appetite  to  Women  (for  there  he  carries 

His  main  Sail  spread)  so  boundles,  and  abominably, 
That  but  to  have  her  name   by  that  tongue  spoken, 
Poisons  the  virtue  of  the  purest  Virgin. 

2  Cour.     I  am  sorry  for  young  Gabriella  then, 
A  Maid  reputed,  ever  of  fair  carriage, 

For  he  has  been   noted  visiting. 

1  Court.     She  is  gone  then, 

Or  any  else,  that  promises,  or  power, 
Gifts,  or  his  guilful  vows  can  work  upon, 
But  these  are  but  poor  parcels. 

2  Court.     'Tis  great  pity. 

1  Court.     Nor  want  these  sins  a  chief  Saint  to  befriend  'em, 
The  Devil  follows  him  ;    and  for  a  truth,  Sir, 

Appears  in  visible  figure  often  to  him, 
At  which  time  he's  possest  with  sudden  trances, 
Cold  deadly  sweats,  and  griping  of  the  conscience, 
Tormented  strangely,  as  they  say. 

2  Court.     Heaven  turn  him  : 

This  marriage-day  mayst  thou  well  curse,  fair  Hellen. 
But  let's  go  view  the  ceremony. 

I  Court.     I'll  walk  with  you.  [Exeunt. 

[Musick. 

Enter  Gabriella,  and  Maria  above.  And  Laval,  Bride^  States 
in  solemnity  as  to  marriage ;  and  pass  over ;  viz.  Duke, 
Marine,  Longaville. 

Mar.     I  hear  'em  come. 

Gab.     Would  I  might  never  hear  more. 

Mar.     I  told  you  still :    but  you  were  so  incredulous. 
See,  there  they  kiss. 

Gab.     Adders  be  your  embraces. 
The  poison  of  a  rotten  heart,  oh  Hellen  \ 

338 


REPRESENTATIONS,  IN  ONE 

Blast  thee  as  I  have  been  ;   just  such  a  flattery, 
With  that  same  cunning  face,  that  smile  upon't, 
Oh  mark  it  Marie^  mark  it  seriously, 
That  Master  smile  caught  me. 

Mar.     There's  the  old  Duke,  and 
Marine  her  Father. 

Gab.     Oh  ! 

Mar.     There  Longaville — 
The  Ladies  now. 

Gab.     Oh,   [I]  am  murder'd,  Marie. 
Beast,  most  inconstant  beast. 

Mar.     There. 

Gab.     There  I  am  not ; 

No  more  I  am  not  there  :    Hear  me,  oh  Heaven  ! 
And  all  you  powers  of  Justice  bow  down  to  me  ; 
But  you  of  pity  dye.     I  am  abus'd, 
She  that  depended  on  your  Providence, 
She  is  abus'd  :    your  honor  is  abus'd. 
That  noble  piece  ye  made,  and  call'd  it  man, 
Is  turn'd  to  Devil :    all  the  world's  abus'd  : 
Give  me  a  womans  Will,  provok'd  to  mischief, 
A  two-edg'd  heart ;    my  suffering  thoughts  to  wild-fires, 
And  my  embraces  to  a  timeless  grave  turn. 

Mar.     Here  I'll  step  in,  for  'tis  an  a&  of  merit. 

Gab.     I  am  too  big  to  utter  more. 

Mar.     Take  time  then.  [Exeunt. 

Enter  Gentille  and  Casta. 

Gent.     This  solitary  life  at  home  undoes  thee, 
Obscures  thy  beauty  first,  which  should  prefer  thee  ; 
Next  fills  thee  full  of  sad  thoughts,  which  thy  years 
Must  not  arrive  at  yet,  they  choak  thy  sweetness  ; 
Follow  the  time,  my  Girl,  and  it  will  bring  thee 
Even  to  the  fellowship  of  the  noblest  women, 
Hellen  her  self,  to  whom  I  would  prefer  thee, 
And  under  whom  this  poor  and  private  carriage, 
Which  I  am  only  able  yet  to  reach  at, 
Being  cast  off,  and  all  thy  sweets  at  lustre, 
Will  take  thee  as  a  fair  friend,  and  prefer  thee. 

Casta.     Good  Sir,  be  not  so  cruel  as  to  seek 

Y2  339 


FOUR   PLAYS,  OR  MORAL 

To  kill  that  sweet  content  y'have  bred   me  to  : 
Have  I  not  here  enough   to  thank   Heaven   for  ? 
The  free  air  uncorrupted   with   new   flattery. 
The  water  that  I  touch,  unbrib'd  with  odours 
To  make  me  sweet  to  others  :    the  pure  fire 
Not  smothered  up,  and  choak'd  with  lustful   incense 
To  make  my   bloud  sweat  ;    but  burning  clear  and   high, 
Tells  me  my  mind  must  flame  up  so  to  Heaven. 
What  should  I  do  at  Court,  wear  rich  apparel  ? 
Methinks  these  are  as  warm  :    And   for  your  state,  Sir, 
Wealthy  enough  ;    Is  it  you  would  have  me  proud, 
And  like  a  Pageant,  stuck  up  for  amazements  ? 
Teach  not  your  child  to  tread   that  path,   for  fear  (Sir) 
Your  dry  bones  after  death,  groan  in  your  grave 
The  miseries  that  follow. 

Gent.     Excellent  Casta. 

Casta.     When  shall  I  pray  again  ?  (a  Courtier) 
Or  when  I  do,  to  what  God  ?    what  new  body 
And  new  face  must  I  make  me,  with  new  manners  ? 
For  I  must  be  no  more  my  self.     Whose  Mistriss 
Must  I  be  first  ?    with  whose  sin-offering  seasoned  ? 
And  when  I  am  grown  so  great  and  glorious 
With  prostitution  of  my  burning  beauties, 
That  great  Lords  kneel,  and  Princes  beg  for  favours, 
Do  you  think  I'll   be  your  Daughter,  a  poor  Gentlemans, 
Or  know  you  for  my  father  ? 

Enter  Lavall. 

Gent.     My  best  Casta. 

Oh  my  most  virtuous  child  !  Heaven  reigns  within  thee  ; 
Take  thine  own  choice,  sweet  child,  and  live  a  Saint  still. 
The  Lord  Lava/1,  stand  by  wench. 

Lav.      Gabrlelltty 

She  cannot,  nor  she  dares  not  make  it  known, 
My  greatness  crushes  her,  when  e'er  she  offers  : 
Why  should  I  fear  her  then  ? 

Gent.      Come,  let's  pass  on  wench. 

Lav.     Gentille,  come  hither :   who's  that  Gentlewoman  ? 

Gent.     A  child  of  mine,  Sir,  who  observing  custome, 
Is  going  to  the  Monastery  to  her  Prayers. 

340 


REPRESENTATIONS,  IN  ONE 

Lav.     A  fair  one,  a  most  sweet  one  ;    fitter  far 
To  beautifie  a  Court,  than  make  a  Votarist. 
Go  on,  fair  Beauty,  and   in  your  Orizons 
Remember  me  :    will  ye,  fair  sweet  ? 

Casta.     Most  humbly.  [Exeunt. 

Lav.     An  admirable  Beauty:    how  it  fires  me  ! 

Enter  a  Spirit. 

But  she's  too  full  of  grace,  and  I  too  wicked. 

I  feel  my  wonted  fit :    Defend  me,  goodness. 

Oh  !    it  grows  colder  still,  and  stiffer  on  me, 

My  hair  stands  up,  my  sinews  shake  and  shrink  ; 

Help  me  good   Heaven,  and  good  thoughts  dwell  within  me. 

Oh  get  thee  gone,  thou  evil  evil  spirit, 

Haunt  me  no  more,  I  charge  thee. 

Spir.     Yes  Lava//: 

Thou  art  my  vassal,  and  the   slave  to  mischief, 
I  blast  thee  with  new  sin  :    pursue  thy  pleasure  ; 
Casta  is  rare  and  sweet,  a  blowing  Beauty ; 
Set  thy  desires  a  fire,  and  never  quench  'em 
Till  thou  enjoy 'st  her  ;    make  her  all  thy  Heaven, 
And  all  thy  joy,  for  she  is  all  true  happiness : 
Thou  art  powerful,  use  command  ;    if  that  prevail  not, 
Force  her  :    I'll   be  thy  friend. 

Lav.     Oh  help  me,  help  me. 

Spir.     Her  virtue,  like  a  spell,  sinks  me  to  darkness.     [Exit. 

Enter  Gentille  and  Casta. 

Gent.    He's  here  still.    How  is't,  noble  Lord  ?  me  thinks,  Sir, 
You  look  a  little  wildly.     Is  it  that  way? 
Is't  her  you  stare  on  so  ?     I  have  spy'd  your  fire,  Sir, 
Bu[t]   dare  not  stay  the  flaming.     Come. 

Lav.     Sweet   [cjreature, 
Excellent  Beauty,  do  me  but  the  happiness 
To  be  your  humblest  servant.     Oh  fair  eyes, 
Oh  blessed,  Blessed  Sweetness,   Divine  Virgin  ! 

Casta.     Oh  good  my  Lord,  retire  into  your  honor  : 
You're  spoken   good  and  virtuous,  plac'd   [at]   Helme 
To  govern  others  from  mischances  :    from  example 
Of  such   fair  Chronicles  as  great  ones  are, 
We  do,  or  sure  we  should  direct  our  lives. 

341 


FOUR  PLAYS,  OR  MORAL 

I   know  y'are  full  of  worth,  a  school  of  virtue 
Daily  instructing  us  that  live   below  ye, 
I   make  no  doubt,  dwells  there. 

Lav.     I  cannot  answer, 
She   has  struck  me  dumb  with   wonder. 

Casta.     Goodness  guide  ye.  [Exeunt. 

Lav.     She's  gone,  and  with  her  all  [l]ight,  and  has  left  me 
Dark  as  my  black  desires.     Oh   devil  lust, 
How  dost  thou   hug  my  bloud,  and  whisper  to  me, 
There  is  no  day  again,  no  time,  no  living, 
Without  this  lusty  Beauty  break  upon  me  ! 
Let  me  colle6t  my  self,  I  strive  like  billows, 
Beaten  against  a  rock,  and  fall  a  fool  still. 

O  ' 

I  must  enjoy  her,  and  I  will  :    from  this  hour 
My  thoughts,  and  all  my  bus'ness  shall  be  nothing. 

Enter  Maria. 

My  eating,  and  my  sleeping,  but  her  beauty, 
And  how  to  work  it. 

Mar.      Health  to  my  Lord  Lavall. 
Nay  good  Sir,  do  not  turn  with  such  displeasure  ; 
I  come  not  to  afHicl  your  new  born  pleasures  ; 
My  honour'd  Mistriss,  neither  let  that  vex  ye, 
For  nothing  is  intended,   but  safe  to  you. 

Lav.     What  of  your  Mistriss  ?    I  am  full  of  bus'ness. 

Mar.     I  will  be  short,  my  Lord  ;    she,  loving  Lady, 
Considering  the  unequal  tie  between  ye, 
And  how  your  mine  with  the  Duke  lay  on  it, 
As  also  the  most  noble  match  now  made, 
By  me  sends  back  all  links  of  marriage, 
All  Holy  Vows,  and  Rights  of  Ceremony, 
All  promises,  oaths,  tears,  and  all  such   pawns 
You  left  in  hostage  :    only  her  love  she  cannot, 
For  that  still  follows  ye,   but  not  to  hurt  ye  ; 
And  still  beholds  ye  Sir,  but  not  to  shame  ye  : 
In   recompence  of  which,  this  is  her  suit,  Sir, 
Her  poor  and   last  petition,  but  to  grant  her, 
When  weary  nights  have  cloyed  ye  up  with  kisses, 
(As  such  must  come)  the  honor  of  a  Mistriss, 
The  honor  but  to  let  her  see  those  eyes, 

342 


REPRESENTATIONS,  IN  ONE 

(Those  eyes  she  doats  on,  more  than  gods  do  goodness) 

And  but  to  kiss  you  only :    with  this  prayer, 

(a  prayer  only  to  awake  your  pity) 

And  on  her  knees  she  made  it,  that  this  night 

You'ld  bless  her  with  your  company  at  supper. 

Lav.     I  like  this  well,  and  now  I  think  on't  better, 
Til  make  a  present  use  from  this  occasion  : 

Mar.     Nay,  good  my  Lord,  be  not  so  cruel  to  her 
Because  she  has  been  yours. 

Lav.     And  to  mine  own  end 
A  rare  way  I  will  work. 

Mar.     Can  love  for  ever, 
The  Love  of  her  (my  Lord)  so  perish  in  ye  ? 
As  ye  desire  in  your  desires  to  prosper. 
What  gallant  under  Heaven,  but  Anjorfs  Heir  then 
Can  brag  so  fair  a  Wife,  and  sweet  a  Mistriss  ? 
Good  noble  Lord. 

Lav.     Ye  mis-apply  me,  Mary, 
Nor  do  I  want  true  pity  to  your  Lady : 
Pity  and  love  tell  me,  too  much  I  have  wrong'd  her 
To  dare  to  see  her  more  :    yet  if  her  sweetness 
Can  entertain  a  Mediation, 

And  it  must  be  a  great  one  that  can  cure  me  ; 
My  love  again,  as  far  as  honor  bids  me, 
My  service  and  my  self — 

Mar.     That's  nobly  spoken. 

Lav.     Shall  hourly  see  her  ;  want  shall  never  know  her; 
Nor  where  she  has  bestow'd  her  love,  repent  her. 

Mar.     Now  whither  drives  he  ? 

Lav.     I  have  heard  Maria, 
That  no  two  women  in  the  world  more  lov'd, 
Then  thy  good  Mistriss,  and  Gentille's  fair  Daughter.       (Lord: 

Mar.     What  may  this  mean  ?  you  have  heard  a  truth,  my 
But  since  the  secret  Love  betwixt  you  two, 
My  Mistriss  durst  not  entertain  such  friendship  ; 
Casta  is  quick,  and  of  a  piercing  judgement, 
And  quickly  will  find  out  a  flaw. 

Lav.     Hold  Marie  : 

Shrink  not,  'tis  good  gold,  wench  :    prepare  a  Banquet, 
And  get  that  Casta  thither  ;    for  she's  a  creature 

343 


FOUR  PLAYS,  OR  MORAL 

So  full  of  forcible  Divine  perswasion, 
And  so  unwearied  ever  with  good  officfe], 
And  she  shall  cure  my  ill  cause  to  my  Mistriss, 
And  make  all  errors  up. 

Mar.     I'll  doe  my  best,  Sir  : 
But  she's  too  fearful,  coy,  and  scrupulous, 
To  leave  her  Fathers  house  so  late  ;    and  bashful 
At  any  mans  appearance,  that  I  fear,  Sir  ; 
'Twill  prove  impossible. 

Lav.     There's  more  gold,  Marie, 
And  fain  thy  Mistriss  wondrous  sick  to  death,  wench. 

Mar.     I  have  ye  in  the  wind  now,  and  I'll  pay  ye. 

Lav.     She  cannot  chuse  but  come  ;    'tis  charity, 
The  chief  of  her  profession  :    undertake  this, 
And  I  am  there  at  night ;    if  not,  I  leave  ye. 

Mar.     I  will  not  loose  this  offer,  though  it  fall  out 
Clean  cross  to  that  we  cast,  I'll  undertake  it, 
I  will,  my  Lord  ;    she  shall  be  there. 

Lav.     By ? 

Mar.     By she  shall. 

Lav.     Let  it  be  something  late  then. 
For  being  seen,  now  force  or  favour  wins  her. 
My  spirits  are  grown  dull,  strong  wine,  and  store, 
Shall  set  'em   up  again,  and  make  me  fit 
To  draw  home  at  the  enterprize  I  aim  at.  [Exit. 

Ma.      Go  thy  wa[ies]  false  Lord,  if  thou  hold'st,  thou  pay'st 
The  price  of  all  thy  lusts.     Thou  shalt  be  there 
Thou  modest  Maid,  if  I  have  any  working, 
And  yet  thy  honor  safe  ;    for  which  this  thief 
I  know  has  set  this  meeting  :    but  I'll  watch  him. 

Enter  Per[o]lot. 

Per.     Maria. 

Mar.     Are  mine  eyes  mine  own  ?    or  bless  me, 
Am  I  deluded  with  a  flying  shadow  ? 

Per.     Why  do  you  start  so  from  me  ? 

Mar.     It  speaks  sensibly, 
And  shews  a  living  body  :    yet   I  am  fearful. 

Per.     Give  me  your  hand,  good  Maria. 

Mar.     He  feels  warm  too. 

344 


REPRESENTATIONS,  IN  ONE 

Per.     And  next  your  [l]ips. 

Mar.     He  kisses  perfectly. 
Nay,  and  the  Devil  be  n[o]  worse  :    you  are  Perolot. 

Per.     I  was,  and  sure  I  should  be :  Can  a  small  distance, 
And  ten  short  moneths  take  from  your  memory 
The  figure  of  your  friend,  that  you  stand  wondring  ? 
Be  not  amaz'd,  I  am  the  self-same  Per\_o\lot, 
Living,  and  well ;    Son  to  Gentille,  and  Brother 
To  virtuous  Casta  ;    to  your  beauteous  Mistriss, 
The  long  since  poor  betroth'd,  and  still  vow'd  servant. 

Mar.     Nay,  sure  he  lives.     My  Lord  Lava//y  your  Master, 
Brought  news  long  since  to  your  much  mourning  Mistriss, 
Ye  dy'd  at  Orleance ;    bound  her  with  an  oath  too, 
To  keep  it  secret  from  your  aged  Father, 
Lest  it  should  rack  his  heart. 

Per.     A  pretty  secret 

To  try  my  Mistriss  Love,  and  make  my  welcome 
From  travel  of  more  worth ;  from  whence,  Heaven  be  thanked, 
My  business  for  the  Duke  dispatch'd  to  th'  purpose, 
And  all  my  money  spent,  I  am  come  home,  wench. 
How  does  my  Mistriss  ?    for  I  have  not  yet  seen 
Any,  nor  will  I,  till  I  do  her  service. 

Mar.     But  did  the  Lord  Laval  know  of  your  love,  Sir, 
before  he  went  ? 

Per.     Yes,  by  much  more  force  he  got  it, 
But  none  else  knew  ;    upon  his  promise  too 
And  honor  to  conceal  it  faithfully 
Till  my  return  ;    to  further  which,  he  told  me, 
My  business  being  ended,  from  the  Duke 
He  would  procure  a  pension  for  my  service, 
Able  to  make  my  Mistriss  a  fit  Husband. 

Mar.     But  are  you  sure  of  this  ? 

Per.      Sure  as  my  sight,  wench. 

Mar.     Then  is  your  Lord  a  base  dissembling  villain, 
A  Devil  Lord,  the  damn'd  Lord  of  all  lewdness, 
And  has  betraid  ye,  and  undone  my  Mistriss, 
My  poor  sweet  Mistriss  :    oh  that  leacher  Lord, 
Who,  poor  soul,  since  was  married. 

Per.      To  whom,  Maria  ? 

Mar.     To  that  unlucky  Lord,  a upon  him  ; 

345 


FOUR  PLAYS,  OR  MORAL       • 

Whose  hot  horse-appetite  being  allaid  once 

With  her  chaste  joyes,  married  again,  scarce  cool'd, 

The  Torches  yet  not  out  the  yellow  Hymen 

Lighted  about  the  bed,  the  Songs  yet  sounding, 

Marine 's  young  noble   Daughter  Helena, 

Whose  mischief  stands  at  door  next.     Oh  that  recreant  ! 

Per.     Oh  villain  !     Oh  most  unmanly  falshood  ! 
Nay  then  I  see,  my  Letters  were   betraid  too. 
Oh,  I  am  full  of  this,  great  with  his  mischiefs, 
Loaden  and  burst  :    Come,  lead  me  to  my  Lady. 

Mar.     I  cannot,  Sir,  Lava//  keeps  her  conceaPd, 
Besides,  her  griefs  are  such,  she  will  see  no  man. 

Per.     I  must,  and  will  go  to  her  :   I  will  see  her  : 
There  be  my  friend,  or  this  shall  be  thy  furthest.  (me, 

Mar.     Hold,  and  I'll  help  thee :   but  first  ye  shall  swear  to 
As  you  are  true  and  gentle,  as  ye  hate 
This  beastly  and  base  Lord,  where  I  shall  place  ye, 
(Which  shall  be  within  sight)  till  I  discharge  ye, 
What-e'er  you  see  or  hear,  to  make  no  motion. 

Per.     I  do  by 

Mar.     Stay  here  about  the  house  then, 
Till  it  be  later  ;    yet  the  time's  not  perfect  : 
There  at  the  back  door  I'll  attend  you  truly. 

Per.     Oh  monstrous,  monstrous  beastly  villain.         [Exit. 

Mar.     How  cross  this  falls,  and  from  all  expectation  ! 
And  what  the  end  shall  be,  Heaven  only  yet  knows : 
Only  I  wish,  and  hope.     But  I  forget  still, 
Casta  must  be  the  bait,  or  all  miscarries.  [Exeunt. 

Enter  Gentille  with  a   Torch,  Shalloon  above. 

Gent.     Holla,  Shaloon. 

Shal.     Who's  there  ? 

Gent.     A  word  from  the  Duke,  Sir. 

Shal.     Your  pleasure. 

Gent.     Tell  your  Lord  he  must  to  Court  strait. 

Shal.     He  is  ill  at  ease  :    and  prays  he  may  be  pardon'd 
The  occasions  of  this  night. 

Gent.     Belike  he  is  drunk  then  : 
He  must  away;    the  Duke  and  his  fair  Lady, 
The  beauteous  Helena,  are  now  at   Cent. 

346 


REPRESENTATIONS,  IN  ONE 

Of  whom  she  has  such  fortune  in  her  carding, 
The  Duke  has  lost  a  thousand  Crowns,  and  swears, 
He  will  not  go  to  bed,  till  by  Lavall 
The  Tide  of  loss  be  turn'd  again.     Awake  him, 
For  'tis  the  pleasure  of  the  Duke  he  must  rise. 

Sha.      Having  so  strict  command  (Sir)  to  the  contrary, 
I  dare  not  do  it  :    I  beseech  your  pardon. 

Gent.     Are  you  sure  he  is  there  ? 

Sha.      Yes. 

Gen.     And  asleep  ? 

Sha.      I  think  so. 

Gen.     And  are  you  sure  you  will  not  tell   him,  Shalont 

Sha.     Yes,  very  sure. 

Gen.     Then  I  am  sure,  I  will. 
Open,  or  I  must  force. 

Sha.     Pray  ye  stay,  he  is  not, 
Nor  will  not  be  this  night.     You  may  excuse  it. 

Gent.     I  knew  he  was  gone  about  some  womans  labour. 
As  good  a  neighbor,  though  I  say  it,  and  as  comfortable  : 
Many  such  more  we  need   Shaloon.     Alas,  poor  Lady, 
Thou  art  like  to  lie  cross-legg'd  to  night.     Good   Monsieur, 
I  will  excuse  your  Master  for  this  once,  Sir, 
Because  sometimes  I   have  lov'd  a  wench  my  self  too. 

Sha.     'Tis  a  good  hearing,  Sir. 

Gent.      But  for  your  lye,  Shaloon^ 
If  I  had  you  here,   it  should  be  no  good  hearing. 
For  your  pate  I  would  pummel. 

Sha.     A  fair  good  night,  Sir. 

Gent.     Good   night,  thou  noble  Knight,  Sir  Pandarus. 
My  heart  is  cold  o'th'  suddain,  and  a  strange  dulness 
Possesses  all  my  body:    thy  Will  be  done  Heaven.        [Exit. 

Enter  Gabriella  and  Casta:    and  Maria  with  a   Taper. 

Casta.     'Faith  Friend,  I  was  even  going  to  my  bed, 
When  your  Maid  told  me  of  your  sudden  sickness  : 
But  from   my  grave  (so  truly  I  love  you) 
I  think  your  name  would  raise  me  :    ye  look  ill 
Since  last  I  saw  ye,  much   decay'd  in  colour  : 
Yet  I  thank  Heaven,  I  find  no  such   great  danger 
As  your  Maid  frighted  me  withal  :    take  courage 

347 


FOUR  PLAYS,  OR  MORAL 

And  give  your  sickness  course  :    some  grief  you  have  got 

That  feeds  within  upon  your  tender  spirits, 

And  wanting  open  way  to  vent   it  self, 

Murders  your  mind,  and  choaks  up  all  your  sweetness. 

Gab.     It  was  my  Maids  fault ;  worthy  friend,  to  trouble  ye, 
So  late,  upon  so  light  a  cause  :    yet  since  I   have  ye 
Oh  my  dear  Casta. 

Casta.     Out  with   it,  Gods  name. 

Gab.     The  Closset  of  my  heart,  I  will   lock  here,  wench, 

[Laval  knocks  within. 
And  things  shall  make  ye  tremble.      Who's  that  knocks  there? 

Mar.      'Tis  Lava!/. 

Gab.      Sit  you  still.      Let  him   in. 
I  am  resolv'd,  and  all  you  wronged  women, 
You  noble  spirits,  that  as  I  have  suffered 
Under  this  glorious  beast-insulting  man, 
Lend  me  your  causes,  then  your  cruelties, 
For  I  must  put  on  madness  above  women. 

Cast.     Why  do  you  look  so  ghastly? 

Gab.     Peace  ;  no  harm,   Deer. 

Enter  Lavall. 

Lav.     There,  take  my  cloak   and   sword  :    Where  is  this 

Mar.     In  the  next  room.  (Banquet  ? 

Casta.      How  came  he  here  ?     Heaven   bless  me. 

Lav.     Give  me  some  Wine  wench;  fill  it  full,  and  sprightly. 

Gab.     Sit  still,  and   be  not  fearful. 

Lav.     Till   my  veins  swell, 

And  my  strong  sinews  stretch  like  that  brave   Centaur, 
That  at  the  Table  snatch'd  the  Bride  away 
In  spight  of  Hercules. 

Casta.     I  am  betraid. 

Lav.     Nay,  start  not  Lady ;   'tis  for  you  that  I  come, 
And  for  your  beauty  :   'tis  for  you,  Lavall 
Honors  this  night ;    to  you,  the  sacred  shrine 
I   humbly   bow,  offering  my  vows  and  prayers  ; 
To  you  I  live. 

Gab.     In   with   the  powder  quickly  : 
So,  that  and  the  Wine  will  rock  ye. 

[Lav.     Here,  to  the  health] 

348 


REPRESENTATIONS,  IN  ONE 

Of  the  most  beauteous  and  divine,  fair  Castay 
The  star  of  sweetness. 

Gab.     Fear  him  not,  I'll  die  first. 
And  who  shall  pledge  ye? 

Lav.     Thou  shalt,  thou  tann'd  Gipsey : 
And  worship  to  that  brightness  give,  cold  Tartar. 

By ye  shall  not  stir  ;    ye  are  my  Mistris, 

The  glory  of  my  love,  the  great  adventure, 
The  Mistris  of  my  heart,  and  she  my  whore. 

Gab.     Thou  ly'st,  base,  beastly  Lord  ;  drunker  then  anger, 
Thou  sowsed  Lord,  got  by  a  surfeit,  thou  lyest  basely. 
Nay,  stir  not  :    I  dare  tell  thee  so.     Sit  you  still. 
If  I   be  whore,  it  is  in  marrying  thee, 
That  art  so  absolute  and  full  a  villain, 
No  Sacrament  can  save  that  piece  tied  to  thee. 
How  often  hast  thou  woo'd  in  those  flatteries, 
Almost  those  very  words,  my  constancie  ? 
What  goddess  have  I  not  been,  or  what  goodness 
What  star  that  is  of  any  name  in   Heaven, 
Or  brightness  ?    which  of  all  the  virtues 
(But  drunkenness,  and  drabbing,  thy  two  morals) 
Have  not  I  reach'd  to  ?   what  Spring  was  ever  sweeter  ? 
What  Scythian  snow  so  white  ?    what  crystal  chaster  ? 
Is  not  thy  new  wife  now  the  same  too?     Hang  thee, 
Base  Bigamist,  thou  honor  of  ill  women. 

Casta.     How's  this  ?     O  !    Heaven  defend  me. 

Gab.     Thou  salt-itch, 

For  whom  no  cure  but  ever  burning  brimstone 
Can  be  imagined. 

Lav.     Ha,  ha,  ha. 

Gab.     Dost  thou  laugh,  thou  breaker 
Of  all  law,  all  religion,  of  all  faith 
Thou  Soule  contemner  ? 

Lav.     Peace,  thou  paltry  woman  : 
And  sit  by  me,  Sweet. 

Gab.     By  the  Devil? 

Lav.     Come, 
And  lull  me  with  delights. 

Gab.     It  works  amain  now. 

Lav.     Give  me  such  kisses  as  the  Queen  of  shadows 

349 


FOUR   PLAYS,  OR  MORAL  • 

Gave  to  the  sleeping  boy  she  stole  on   Lat?nus  ; 
Look  round  about  in   snakie  wreathes  close   folded, 
Those  rosie  arms  about  my  neck,   O  !    f^enus. 

Gab.      Fear  not,   I  say. 

Lav.     Thou  admirable  sweetness, 
Distill  thy   blessings  like  those  silver  drops, 
That  falling  on  fair  grounds,   rise  all   in   roses  : 
Shoot  me  a  thousand  darts  from  those  fair  eyes, 
And  through   my  heart  transfix  'em  all,  I'll  stand  'em. 
Send  me  a  thousand  smiles,  and  presently 
I'll  catch  'em   in  mine  eyes,  and   by  Love's  power 
Turn  'em  to   Cupids  all,  and  fling  'ern  on  thee, 
How  high  she  looks,  and  heavenly !     More  wine  for  me. 

Ga.     Give  him  more  wine,  and  good  friend  be  not  fearful. 

Lav.     Here  on  my  knee,  thou  Goddess  of  delights, 
This  lustie  grape  I  offer  to  thy  Beauties  ; 
See  how  it  leaps  to  view  that  perfecl:  redness 
That  dwels  upon  thy  lips  :    now,  how  it  blushes 
To  be  outblush'd.     Oh  !    let  me  feed  my  fancie, 
And  as  I   hold  the  purple  god  in  one  hand 
Dancing  about  the  bri[m]  and  proudly  swelling, 
Deck'd  in  the  pride  of  nature  young,  and  blowing  ; 
So  let  me  take  fair  Semele  in  the  other, 
And  sing  the  loves  of  gods,  then  drink,  their  Neftar's 
Not  yet  desir'd. 

Casta.     Oh  ! 

Lav.     Then  like  lustie   Tarquin 
Turn'd  into  flames  with  Lucrece  coy  denyals, 
His  blood  and   spirit  equally  ambitious, 
I  force  thee  for  my  own. 

Casta.     O  help  me  Justice  : 
Help  me,  my  Chastitie. 

Lav.     Now  I  am  bravely  quarried.  \Perolot  above. 

Per.     'Tis  my  Sister. 

Gab.      No,  bawdy  slave,  no  Treacher,  she  is  not  carried. 

Per.     She's  loose  again,  and  gone.     I'll  keep  my  place  still. 

Mar.     Now  it  works  bravely :  stand,  he  cannot  hurt  ye. 

Lav.     O   my  sweet   Love,  my  life.  [He  falls  downe, 

Mar.     He  sinks.  and  sleeps. 

Lav.     My  blessing. 

350 


REPRESENTATIONS,  IN  ONE 

Mar.     So,  now  he  is  safe  a  while. 

Gab.     Lock  all  the  doors,  wench, 
Then   for  my  wrongs. 

Per.     Now  I'll  appear  to  know  all. 

Gab.     Be  quick,  quick,  good  Mariey  sure  and  sudden. 

Per.     Stay,  I  must  in  first. 

Gab.     O'  my  conscience  ! 

It  is  young  Perol\o\t :    Oh  my  stung  conscience  ! 
It  is  my  first  and  noblest  Love. 

Mar.     Leave  wondring, 
And   recollect  your  self:    the  man  is  living. 
Equally  wrong'd  as  you,  and  by  that  Devil. 

Per.     'Tis  most  true,  Lady :    your  unhappy  fortune 
I  grieve  for  as  mine  own,  your  fault  forgive  too, 
If  it  be  one.     This  is  no  time  for  kisses  : 
I  have  heard  all,  and  known  all,  which  mine  ears 
Are  crack'd  apieces  with,  and  my  heart  perish'd. 
I  saw  him  in  your  chamber,  saw  his  fury. 
And  am  afire  till  I  have  found  his  heart  out. 
What  do  you  mean  to  do  ?    for  I'll  make  one. 

Gab.     To  make  his  death  more  horrid  (for  he  shall  dye). 

Per.      He  m[u]st,  he  must. 

Gab.     We'll  watch   him  till  he  wakes, 
Then   bind  him,  and  then  torture  him. 

Per.     'Tis  nothing. 

No,  take  him  dead  drunk  now  without  repentance, 
His  leachery  inseam'd  upon  him. 

Gab.      Excellent. 

Per.     I'll  do  it  my  self ;  and  when  'tis  done,  provide  ye, 
For  we'll  away  for  Italy  this  night. 

Gab.     We'll  follow  thorow  all  hazards. 

Per.     Oh   false  Lord, 

Unmanly,  mischievous  ;    how  I  could  curse  thee  ; 
But  that  but  blasts  thy  fame ;    have  at  thy  heart,  fool  : 
Loop-holes  I'll   make  enough  to  let  thy  life  out. 

Lav.     Oh  !    does  the  devil  ride  me  ? 

Per.     Nay  then. 

Lav.     Murder. 
Nay,  then  take  my  share  too. 

Per.     Help  ;    oh  !   he  has  slain  me. 

351 


FOUR  PLAYS,  OR  MORAL 

Bloudy   intentions  must  have  bloud. 

Lav.     Hah  ? 

Per.      Heaven. 

Gab.      He  sinks,   he  sinks,  for  ever  sinks  :    oh   fortune  ! 
Oh  sorrow  !    how  like  seas  thou  flowest  upon   me  ! 
Here  will  I  dwell  for  ever.     Weep  Maria, 
Weep  this  young  man's  misfortune  :    oh  thou   truest  ! 

Enter  Spirit. 

Lav.     What  have  I  done  ? 

Spir.     That  that  has  mark'd  thy  soul  man. 

Lav.     And  art  thou  come  again  thou  dismal  spirit  ? 

Spir.     Yes,  to  devour  thy  last. 

Lav.     Mercy  upon  thee. 

Spir.     Thy  hour  is  come :    succession,  honor,  pleasure, 
And  all  the  lustre  thou  so  long  hast  look'd  for 
Must  here  have  end  :    Summon  thy  sins  before  thee. 

Lav.     Oh  my  affrighted  soul  ! 

Spir.     There  lies  a  black  one  ; 
Thy  own  best  servant  by  thy  own  hand  slain, 
Thy  drunkenness  procured  it  :    There's  another : 
Think  of  fair  Gabriella,  there  she  weeps ; 
And  such  tears  are  not  lost. 

Lav.     Oh  miserable  ! 

Spir.     Thy  foul  intention  to  the  virtuous   Casta. 

Lav.     No  more,  no  more,  thou  wild-fire. 

Spir.     Last,  thy  last  wife, 
Think  on  the  wrong  she  suffers. 

Lav.     O  my  miserie. 
Oh  !    whither  shall  I  flie  ? 

Spir.     Thou  hast  no  faith,  fool. 
Heark  to  thy  knell.  [Sings,  and  vanishes. 

Lav.     Millions  of  sins  muster  about  mine  eyes  now  : 
Murders,  ambitions,  lust,  false  faiths ;    O   horror, 
In  what  a  stormie  form  of  death  thou  rid'st  now  ! 
Me  thinks  I  see  all  tortures,  fires,  and  frosts, 
Deep  sinking  caves,  where  nothing  but  despair  dwels, 
The  balefull  birds  of  night  hovering  about  'em  ; 
A  grave,  me  thinks,  now  opens,  and  a  herse 
Hung  with  my  Arms  tumbles  into  it  :    oh  ! 

352 


REPRESENTATIONS,  IN  ONE 

Oh  !    my  afflicted  soul  :    I  cannot  pray; 
And  the  least  child  that  has  but  goodness  in  him 
May  strike  my  head  off;    so  stupid  are  my  powers  : 
I'll  lift  mine  eyes  up  though. 

Mar.     Cease  these  laments, 
They  are  too  poor  for  venge[a]nce  :    Lavall  lives  yet. 

Gab.     Then  thus  I  drie  all  sorrows  from  these  eyes, 
Fury  and  rage  possess  'em  now  :    damn'd  divell. 

Lav.     Hah  ? 

Gab.     This  for  young  Perolot. 

Lav.     O  mercy,  mercy. 

Gab.     This  for  my  wrongs. 

Lav.     But  one  short  hour  to  cure  me.         [Knock  within. 
Oh  be  not  cruell  :    Oh  !    oh. 

Mar.     Heark,  they  knock. 
Make  hast  for  Heavens  sake,  Mistris. 

Gab.     This  for   Casta. 

Lav.     Oh,   O,  O,  O!  [He  dies. 

Mar.     He's  dead :   come  quickly,  let 's  away  with  him, 
'T  will  be  too  late  else. 

Gab.     Help,  help  up  to  th'  chamber  ! 

[Exeunt  with  Lava/Is  body. 

Enter  Duke,  Hellena,  Gentile,  Casta,  and  attendants, 

with  lights. 

Duke.     What  frights  are  these  ? 

Gent.  I  [a]m  sure  here's  one  past  frighting. 
Bring  the  lights  neerer  :  I  have  enough  alreadie. 
Out,  out,  mine  eyes.  Look,  Casta. 

Lord.      'T   is  young  Perolot. 

Duke.     When  came   he  over  ?     Hold   the  Gentlewoman, 
she  sinks ;    and  bear  her  off. 

Cast.     O   my  dear  brother  !  [Exit. 

Gent.     There  is  a  time  for  all;    for  me,  I   hope,  too, 
And  very  shortly.     Murdred  ? 

[Gabriella,  Maria,  with  Lavalls  body,  above. 

Duke.     Who  's  above  there  ? 

Gab.  Look  up,  and  see. 
Duke.     What  may  this  mean  ? 

Gab.  Behold  it  ; 

B.-F.  x.  z  353 


FOUR  PLAYS,  OR  MORAL 

Behold  the  drunken   murderer 

Of  that  young  Gentleman  ;    behold  the   rankest, 

The  vilest,   basest  slave  that  ever  flourish'd. 

Duke.     Who  kill'd  him  ? 

Gab.     I ;    and  there  's  the  cause  I  did   it  : 
Read,   if  your  eyes  will  give  you  leave. 

Hell.     Oh  !    monstrous. 

Gab.      Nay,    out    it    shall  :     there,    take    this    false    heart 

to  ye  ; 

The  base  dishonor  of  a  thousand  women  : 
Keep  it  in  gold,  Duke,  'tis  a  precious  jewel. 
Now  to  my  self;    for  I   have  liv'd  a  fair  age, 
Longer  by  some  moneths  then  I  had  a  mind  to. 

Duke.     Hold. 

Gab.      Here,  young  Perolot ;    my  first  contracted 
True  love  shall  never  go  alone. 

Duke.     Hold,   Gabrlella. 
I   do  forgive  all. 

Gab.     I  shall   die  the  better, 
Thus  let  me  seek  my  grave,  and  my  shames  with  me. 

Mar.     Nor  shalt  thou  go  alone  my  noble  Mistris  : 
Why  should  I  live,  and  thou  dead  ? 

Lord.     Save   the  wench  there. 

Mar.     She  is,  I  hope  ;    and  all  my  sins  here  written. 

Duke.     This  was  a  fatal  night. 

Gent.     Heaven  has  his  working, 
Which  we  cannot  contend  against. 

Duke.     Alas  ! 

Gent.     Your  Grace  has  your  alas  too. 

Duke.     Would  't  were  equal  ; 
For  thou  hast  lost  an   honest  noble  childe. 

Gent.     'T  is  heir  enough  has  lost  a  good  remembrance. 

Duke.     See  all  their  bodies  buried  decently, 
Though  some  deserv'd  it  not.     How  do  you,  Lady  ? 

Hell.    Even  with  your  Graces  leave,  ripe  for  a  Monasterie  ; 
There  will  I  wed  my  life  to  tears  and  prayers, 
And  never  know  what  man  is  more. 

Duke.     Your  pleasure  ; 
How  does  the  maid  within  ? 

Lord.     She  is  gone  before,  Sir,- 

354 


REPRESENTATIONS,  IN  ONE 

The  same  course  that  my  Lady  takes. 

Gent.     And  my  course  shall  be  my  Beads  at  home  ;   so 
Please  your  Grace  to  give  me  leave  to  leave  the  Court. 

Duke.     In  peace,  Sir, 
And  take  my  love  along. 

Gent.     I  shall  pray  for  ye. 

Duke.     Now  to  our  selves  retire  we,  and  begin 
By  this  example  to  correct  each  sin.  [Exeunt. 

[Flourish. 

King.  Em.     By  this  we  plainly  view  the  two  imposthumes 
That  choke  a  kingdoms  welfare  ;    Ease,  and  Wantonness  ; 
In  both  of  which  Lava!/  was  capital  : 
For  first,  Ease  stole  away  his  minde  from  honor, 
That  active  noble  thoughts  had   kept  still  working, 
And  then  deliver'd  him  to  drink  and  women, 
Lust  and  outragious  riot ;    and  what  their  ends  are, 
How  infamous  and  foul,  we  see  example. 
Therefore,  that  great  man  that  will  keep  his  name, 
And  gain  his  merit  out  of  Virtues  schools, 
Must  make  the  pleasures  of  the  world  his  fools.       [Flourish. 

The  TRIUMPH. 

Enter  Musicians  :  next  them,  Perolot  with  the  wound  he  died 
with.  Then  Gabriella  and  Maria,  with  their  wounds :  after  them, 
four  Furies  with  Bannerets  in[s]crib'd  Revenge,  Murder,  Lust 
and  Drunkenness,  singing.  Next  them,  Lavall  wounded.  Then 
[<z]  Chariot  with  Death  drawn  by  the  Destinies.  [Flourish. 

Enter  PROLOGUE. 

From  this  sad  sight  ascend  your  noble  eye, 

And  see  old  Time  helping  triumphantly, 

Helping  his  Master  Man  :    view  here  his  vanities 

And  see  his  false  friends  like  those  glutted  flyes, 

That  when  they've  suckt  their  fill,  fall  off,  and  fade 

From  all  remembrance  of  him,  like  a  shade. 

And  last,  view   who  relieves  him  ;    and  that  gone, 

We  hope  your  favour,  and  our  Play  is  done. 

[Flourish. 

z2  355 


FOUR  PLAYS,  OR  MORAL 

Enter  Antbropos,   Desire,   and  Vain   Delight  ;    Bounty. 

Ant.     What  hast  thou  done,  Desire,  and   how   imploy'd 
The  charge  I   gave  thee,  about  levying  wealth 
For  our   supplies  ? 

Desire.     I   have  done  all,  yet   nothing  : 
Tri'd  all,  and  all  my  ways,  yet  all  miscarried  ; 
There  dwells  a  sordid  dulness   in  their  mindes 
Thou  son  of  earth,  colder  then  that  thou  art  made  of, 
I  came  to   Craft,  found  all  his  hooks  about  him, 
And  all  his  nets  baited  and  set  ;    his  slie  self 
And  greedie  Lucre  at  a  serious  conference 
Which  way  to  tie  the  world  within  their  statutes  : 
Business  of  all  sides  and  of  all  sorts  swarming 
Like  Bees  broke  loose  in  summer  :    [I]   declared 
Your  will  and  want  together,   both   inforcing 
With  all  the  power  and  pains  I  had,  to  reach  him ; 
Yet  all  fell  short. 

Antb.     His  answer. 

Desire.     This  he  gave  me. 

Your  wants  are  never  ending  ;    and  those  supplies 
That  came  to  stop  those  breaches,  are  ever  lavisht 
Before  they  reach  the  main,  in  toys  and  trifles, 
Gew-gaws,  and  gilded  puppets  :    Vain  delight 
He  says  has  ruin'd  ye,  with  clappi[n]g  all 
That  comes  in  for  support,  on  clothes,  and   Coaches, 
Perfumes,  and   powder'd  pates  ;    and  that  your  Mistris, 
The  Lady  Pleasure,  like  a  sea  devours 
At  length  both  you  and  him  too.     If  you  have  houses, 
Or  land,  or  jewels,   for  good  pawn,   he'll   hear  you, 
And  will  be  readie  to  supplie  occasions ; 
If  not,  he  locks  his  ears  up,  and  grows  stupid. 
From  him,  I  went  to   Vanity,  whom  I  found 
Attended   by   [a]n  endless  troop  of  Tailors, 
Mercers,  Embroiderers,  Feather-makers,  Fumers, 
All  occupations  opening  like  a  Mart, 
That  serve  to  rig  the   body  out  with   braverie  ; 
And  th'row  the  roome  new  fashions  flew  like  flyes, 
In  thousand  gaudie  shapes  ;    Pride  waiting  on  her, 
And  busily  surveying  all  the  breaches 

356 


REPRESENTATIONS,  IN  ONE 

Time  and  delaying  Nature  had  wrought  in  her, 
Which  still  with  art  she  piec'd  again,  and  strengthened  : 
I  told  your  wants  ;    she  shew'd  me  gowns  and  head-tires, 
Imbroider'd  wastcoats,  smocks  seam'd  thorow  with  cut-works, 
Scarfs,  mantles,  petticoats,  muffs,  powders,  paintings, 
Dogs,  monkeys,  parrots,  which  all  seemed  to  shew  me 
The  way  her  money  went.     From  her  to  Pleasure 
I  took  my  journey. 

Anth.     And  what  says  our  best  Mistris  ? 

Desire.     She  danc'd  me  out  this  answer  presently  : 
Revels  and  Masques  had  drawn  her  drie  alreadie. 
I  met  old   Time  too,  mowing  mankind  down, 
Who  says  you  are  too  hot,  and  he  must  purge  ye. 

Anth.     A  cold  quietus.     Miserable  creatures, 
Born  to  support  and  beautifie  your  master, 
The  godlike  man,  set  here  to  do  me  service, 
The  children  of  my  will ;    why,  or  how  dare  ye, 
Created  to  my  use  alone,  disgrace  me  ? 
Beasts  have  more  court[e]sie  ;    they  live  about  me, 
Offering  their  warm  wooll  to  the  shearers  hand, 
To  clothe  me  with  their  bodies  to  my  labours  ; 
Nay,  even  their  lives  they  daily  sacrifice, 
And  proudly  press  with  garlands  to  the  altars, 
To  fill  the  gods  oblations.     Birds  bow  to  me, 
Striking  their  downie  sails  to  do  me  service, 
Their  sweet  airs  ever  ecchoing  to  mine  honor, 
And  to  my  rest  their  plumie  softs  they  send  me. 
Fishes,  and  plants,  and  all  where  life  inhabits, 
But  mine  own  cursed  kind,  obey  their  ruler  ; 
Mine  have  forgot  me,  miserable  mine, 
Into  whose  stonie  hearts,  neglecl  of  dutie, 
Squint-ey'd  deceit,  and  self-love,  are  crept  closely  : 
None  feel  my  wants,  not  one  mend  with  me. 

Desire.      None,  Sir  ? 

Ant.     Thou  hast  forgot  (Desire)  thy  best  friend,  Flatterie ; 
He  cannot  fail  me. 

Delight.     Fail  ?    he  will  sell  himself, 
And  all  within  his  power,  close  to  his  skin  first. 

Desire.     I  thought  so  too,  and  made  him  my  first  venture 
But  found  him  in  a  young  Lords  ear  so  busie, 

357 


FOUR   PLAYS,  OR  MORAL 

So  like  a  smiling  showr  pouring  his  soul 

In  at   his  portals,   his  face   in  a  thousand  figures 

Catching  the  vain   mind  of  the  men  :    I  pull'd  him, 

But  still   he  hung  like   birdlime  ;    spoke  unto  him, 

His  answer  still  was,  By  the   Lord,  sweet   Lord, 

And   By   my  soul,  thou  master-piece  of  honor  ; 

Nothing  could  stave  him  off:   he  has  heard  your  flood's  gone  ; 

And  on  decaying  things  he  seldom  smiles,  Sir. 

Anth.     Then  here  I  break  up  state,  and  free  my  followers, 
Putting  my  fortune  now  to   Time,  and  Justice  : 
Go  seek  new   masters  now  ;    for  Anthropos 
Neglecled   by  his  friends,  must  seek  new  fortunes. 
Desire,  to   Avarice  I  here  commend  thee, 
Where  thou  may'st  live  at  full   bent  of  thy  wishes  : 
And   Vain  Delight,  thou  feeder  of  my  follies 
With  light  fantastickness,  be  thou  in   favour. 
To  leave  thee,  Bountle,  my  most  worthie  servant, 
Troubles  me  more  then  m[ine]   own   misery  ; 
But  we  must  part  :    go  plant  thy  self,  my  best  friend, 
In   honorable  hearts  that  truely  know  thee, 
And  there  live  ever  like  thy  self,  a  virtue  : 
But  leave  this  place,  and  seek  the  Countrey, 
For  Law,  and  lust,  like  fire  lick  all  up  here. 
Now  none  but  Poverty  must  follow  me, 
Despis'd  patch'd  Poverty  ;    and  we  two  married, 
Will  seek  Simplicity,   Content  and  Peace  out. 

Enter  Poverty. 

And  live  with  them  in  exile.     How  uncall'd  on 
My  true  friend  comes  ! 

Poverty.     Here,   hold  thee,  Anthropos, 
Thou  art  almost  arm'd  at  rest  ;    put  this  on, 
A  penitential  robe,  to  purge  thy  pleasures  : 
Off  with  that  vanitie. 

A  nth.      Here,   Vain  Delight, 
And  with  this  all  my  part,  to  thee  again 
Of  thee  I  freely  render. 

Pov.     Take  this  staff  now, 
And  be  more  constant  to  your  steps  hereafter  : 
The  staff  is  Staidness  of  affections. 

358 


REPRESENTATIONS,  IN  ONE 

Away  you  painted  flyes,  that  with  mans  summet 
Take  life  and   heat  buzzing  about  his  blossoms  ; 
When  growing  full,  ye  turn  to  Caterpillers, 
Gnawing  the  root  that  gave  you  life.     Fly  shadows. 

[Exeunt  desire  and  delight. 
Now  to  Content  I'll  give  thee,  Anthropos^ 
To  Rest  and  Peace  :    no  vanitie  dwells  there  ; 
Desire  [nor]   Pleasur[e],  to  delude  thy  mind  more  ; 
No  Flatteries  smooth-fiTd  tongue  shall  poison  thee. 

Anth.     O  !    Jupiter,  if  I  have  ever  offer'd 
Upon  thy  burning  Altars  but  one  Sacrifice 
Thou  and  thy  fair-ey'd  Juno  sinil'd  upon  ; 
If  ever,  to  thine  honor,  bounteous  feasts, 
Where  all  thy  statu[e]s  sweet  with  wine  and  incense, 
Have  by  the  son  of  earth  been  celebrated  : 
Hear  me  (the  child  of  shame  now)  hear  thou  helper, 
And  take  my  wrongs  into  thy  hands,  thou  justice 
Done  by  unmindful  man,  unmerciful, 
Against  his  master  done,  against  thy  order ; 
And  raise  again,  thou  father  of  all  honor, 
The  poor  despis'd,  but  yet  thy  noblest  creature. 
Raise  from  his  ruines  once  more  this  sunk  Cedar, 
That  all  may  fear  thy  power,  and  I  proclaim  it.       [Exeunt. 

Jupiter  and  Mercury  descend  severally.     Trumpets 

small  above. 

Jup.      Ho  !    Mercury,  my  winged  son. 

Mer.     Your  servant. 

Jup.     Whose   powerful   prayers   were  those    that    reach'd 

our  ears, 
Arm'd  in  such  spells  of  pity  now  ? 

Mer.     The  sad  petitions 

Of  the  scorn'd  son  of  earth,  the  god-like  Anthropos, 
He  that  has  swell'd  your  sacred  fires  with   incense, 
And  pil'd  upon  your  Altars  a  thousand  heifers  ; 
He  that  (beguil'd  by  Vanity  and  Pleasure, 
Desire,   Craft,  Flattery,  and  smooth  Hypocrisie) 
Stands  now  despis'd  and  ruin'd,  left  to  Poverty. 

Jup.     It  must  not  be  ;    he  was  not  rais'd  for   mine  ; 
Nor  shall  those  hands  heav'd  at  m[ine]   Altars,   perish  : 

359 


FOUR  PLAYS,  OR   MORAL 

He   is  our  noblest  creature.      Flee  to   Time, 

And  charge  him   presently  release  the  bands 

Of  Poverty  and   IV ant  this  suitor  sinks   in  : 

Tell  him,  among  the  Sun-burnt  Indians, 

That  know  no  other  wealth  but  Peace  and   pleasure, 

She  shall   find  golden   Plutus,  god  of  riches, 

Who  idly  is  ador'd,   the  innocent  people 

Not  knowing  yet  what  power  and   weight  he  carries  : 

Bid  him  compell   him  to  his  right  use,  honor, 

And   presently  to  live  with  Anthropos. 

It  is  our  Will.     Away. 

Mer.     I  do  obey   it.       ["Jupiter  and  Mercury  ascend  again. 

Musick.  Enter  Plutus,  with  a  troop  of  Indians,  singing  and 
dancing  wildly  about  him,  and  bowing  to  him  :  which 
ended.  Enter  Time. 

Time.     Rise,  and  away  ;    'tis  Joves  command. 

Plut.     I  will  not : 

Ye  have  some  fool  to  furnish  now  ;    some  Midas 
That  to  no  purpose  I  must  choak  with  riches. 
Who  must  I  go  to  ? 

Time.     To  the  son  of  earth  ; 
He  wants  the  god  of  wealth. 

Plut.     Let  him  want  still  : 
I  was  too  lately  with  him,  almost  torn 
Into  ten  thousand  pieces  by  his  followers  : 
I  could  not  sleep,  but   Craft  or  Vanity 
Were  filing  off  my  fingers  ;    not  eat,  for  fear 
Pleasure  would  cast  her  self  into  my  belly, 
And  there  surprize  my  heart. 

Time.     These  have  forsaken   him  : 

Make  haste  then,  thou  must  with  me  :    be  not  angry, 
For  fear  a  greater  anger  light  upon  thee. 

Plut.     I  do  obey  then  :    but  change  my  figure ; 
For  when  I  willingly  befriend  a  creature, 
Goodly,  and  full  of  glory  I  shew  to  him  ; 
But  when   I  am  compell'd,  old,  and  decrepid, 
I  halt,  and  hang  upon  my  staff.     Farewell,  friends, 
I  will  not  be  long  from  ye  ;    all   my  servants 

360 


REPRESENTATIONS,  IN  ONE 

I  leave  among  ye  still,  and  my  chief  riches. 

[Exeunt  Indians  with  a  dance. 

Oh   Time,  what  innocence  dwells  here,  what  goodness  ! 
They  know  me  not,   nor  hurt  me  not,  yet  hug  me. 
Away,  I'll  follow  thee  :    but  not  too  fast,   Time. 

[Exeunt  Plutus  and  Time. 

Enter  Anthropos,  Honesty,   Simplicity,  Humility,  Poverty. 

Humil.     Man,  be  not  sad,  nor  let  this  divorce 
From  Mundus,  and  his  many  ways  of  pleasure, 
Affli6l  thy  spirits  ;    which  consider'd  rightly 
With  inward  eyes,  makes  thee  arrive  at  happy. 

Pov.     For  now  what  danger  or  deceit  can  reach  thee  ? 
What  matter  left  for   Craft  or   Covetize 
To  plot  against  thee  ?    what  Desire  to  burn  thee  ? 

Honest.     Oh  son  of  earth,  let  Honesty  possess  thee  ; 
Be  as  thou  wast  intended,  like  thy  Maker  ; 
See  thorow  those  gawdy  shadows,  that  like  dreams 
Have  dwelt  upon  thee  long  :    call  up  thy  goodness, 
Thy  mind  and  man  with[in]   thee,  that  lie  shipwrack'd, 
And  then  how  thin  and  vain  these  fond  affe6lions, 
How  lame  this  worldly   [l]ove,  how  lump-like  raw 
And  ill  digested  all  these  vanities 

D 

Will  shew,  let  Reason  tell  thee. 

Sim.pl.     Crown  thy  mind 

With  that  above  the  worlds  wealth,  joyful  suffering, 
And  truly  be  the  master  of  thy  self. 
Which  is  the  noblest  Empire  ;    and  there  stand 
The  thing  thou  wert  ordain'd,  and  set  to  govern. 

Pov.     Come,  let  us  sing  the  worlds  shame:  hear  us,  An- 
thropos. 

Song  :     And  then  Enter  Time  and  Plutus. 

Hon.     Away  ;    we  are  betrayd.       [Exeunt  all  but  Poverty. 

Time.     Get  thou  too  after, 
Thou  needy  bare  companion  ;    go  for  ever, 
For  ever,  I  conjure  thee  :    make  no  answer.     [Exit  Poverty. 

A  nth.     What  mak'st  thou  here,   Time?    thou  that  to  this 
Minute,  never  stood  still  by  me  ? 

Time.     I  have  brought  thee  succour  ; 

361 


FOUR  PLAYS,  OR  MORAL 

And  now  catch  hold,  I  am  thine  :    The  god  of  riches 

(Compell'd  by  him  that  saw  thy  miseries, 

The  ever  just  and  wakeful  Jove,  at  length) 

Is  come  unto  thee  :    use  him  as  thine  own  ; 

For  'tis  the  doom  of  Heaven  :    he  must  obey  thee. 

Anth.     Have  I  found  pity  then  ? 

Time.     Thou   hast  ;    and  Justice 
Against  those  false  seducers  of  thine  honor  : 
Come,  give  him  present  helps.  [Exit  Time. 

Industry  and  the  Arts  discovered. 

Plut.     Come  Industry, 
Thou  friend  of  life  ;    and  next  to  thee,  rise  Labour  ; 

[Plutus  stamps.     Labour  rises. 
Rise  presently  :    and  now  to  your  employments ; 
But  first  conduct  this  mortal  to  the  rock. 

They  carry  Anthropos  to  a  Rock, 

and  fall  a  digging. 

What  seest  thou  now  ?  [Plutus  strikes  the  Rock, 

and  flames  file  out. 

Anth.     A  glorious  Mine  of  Metal. 
Oh  Jupiter,  my  thanks. 
Plut.     To  me  a  little. 

Anth.     And  to  the  god  of  wealth,  my  Sacrifice. 
Plut.     Nay,  then  I  am  rewarded.     Take  heed  now,  Son, 
You  are  afloat  again,  lest  Mundus  catch  ye. 
Anth.     Neve[r]   betray  me  more. 
Plut.     I  must  to  India, 

From  whence  I  came,  where  my  main  wealth  lies  buried, 
And  these  must  with  me.  Take  that  Book  and  Mattock, 
And  by  those,  know  to  live  again. 

[Exeunt  Plutus,  Industry,  Labour,  &[c]. 
Anth.     I  shall  do. 

Enter  Fame  sounding. 

Fame.     Thorow  all  the  world,  the  fortune  of  great  An- 
Be  known  and  wonder'd  at ;    his  riches  envy'd  (thropos 

As  far  as  Sun  or  Time  is  ;    his  power  fear'd  too.      [Exeunt. 

362 


REPRESENTATIONS,  IN  ONE 

MUSICK. 

Enter  Delight,  Pleasure,  [Craft,  Lucre,]  Vanity,  &c.  danc- 
ing (and  Masqu'd]  towards  the  Rock,  offering  service  to 
Anthropos.  Mercury  from  above.  Mustek  heard.  One 
half  of  a  cloud  drawn.  Singers  are  discovered  :  then  the 
other  half  drawn.  Jupiter  seen  in  glory. 

Mer.     Take    heed,   weak   man,    those    are    the    sins    that 

sunk  thee  : 
Trust  'em  no  more  :    kneel,  and  give  thanks  to   "Jupiter. 

Anth.     Oh  mighty  power  ! 

Jup.     Unmask,  ye  gilded  poisons : 
Now  look  upon  'em,  son  of  earth,  and  shame  'em  ; 
Now  see  the  faces  of  thy  evil  Angels, 
Lead  'em  to  Time,  and  let  'em  fill  his  Triumph  : 
Their  memories  be  here  forgot  for  ever. 

Anth.     Oh  just  great  god  !    how  many  lives  of  service, 
What  ages  only  given  to  thine  honor. 
What  infinites  of  vows,  and  holy  prayers, 
Can  pay  my  thanks  ? 

Jup.     Rise  up  :    and  to  assure  thee 

That  never  more  thou  shalt  feel  want,  strike,  Mercury, 
Strike  him  ;    and  by  that  stroke  he  shall  for  ever 
Live  in  that  rock  of  Gold,  and  still  enjoy  it. 
Be't  done,  I  say.     Now  sing  in  honor  of  him. 

SONG. 

Enter  the  Triumph.  First,  the  Musicians:  then  Vain  Delight, 
Pleasure,  Craft,  L[u]cre,  Vanity,  and  other  of  the  Vice^  : 
Then  a  Chariot  with  the  person  of  Time  sitting  in  it, 
drawn  by  four  persons,  representing  Hours,  singing. 

Exeunt.  Flourish. 

King.  Em.     By  this  we  note  (sweet-heart)  in  Kings  and 
A  weakness,  even  in  spite  of  all  their  wisdoms.  (Princes 

And  often  to  be  master'd  by  abuses  : 
Our  natures  here  describ'd  too,  and  what  humors 
Prevail  above  our  Reasons  to  undo  us. 
But  this  the  last  and  best.     When  no  friend  stands, 
The  gods  are  merciful,  and  lend  their  hands.  Flourish. 

363 


FOUR   PLAYS 


Epilogue 

NOw  as   the  Husbandman,   whose   Costs  and  Pain, 
Whose  Hopes  and  Helps   lie  buried  in  his   Grain, 
Waiting  a  happy   Spring  to   ripen  full 
His  longed-for  Harvest,   to  the  Reapers  pull ; 
Stand  we  expecting,  having  sown  our   Ground 
With  so   much  charge,  (the  fruitfulness   not  found] 
The  Harvest  of  our  Labours  :    For  we  know 
You  are  our  Spring ;    and  when  you  smile,   we  grow. 
Nor  Charge  nor  Pain,  shall  bind  us  from  your  Pleasures, 
So  you  but  lend  your  hands  to  Jill  our  Measures. 


FINIS. 


364 


APPENDIX. 


In  the  following  references  to  the  text  the  lines  are  numbered  from  the  top  of  the 
page,  including  titles,  acts,  stage  directions,  <5rY. ,  but  not,  of  course,  the 
headline  or  mere  'rules.'1  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  versa.  Full-stops  have  been  silently  inserted  at  the  ends  of  speeches 
and  each  fresh  speaker  has  been  given  the  dignity  of  a  fresh  line :  in  the 
double-columned  folio  the  speeches  are  frequently  run  on.  Misprints  in  the 
Quartos  and  the  First  Folio  are  recorded  when  they  appear  to  be  interesting. 
A  word  or  two  from  the  printed  text  is  attached  to  the  variants  recorded  below 
in  cases  where  the  variant,  by  itself,  would  not  be  sufficiently  clear.  Altered 
punctuation  is  shown,  usually,  by  printing  the  old  punctuation. 

[Thanks  are  due  to  Mrs  Arnold  Glover  for  collations  of  quartos  in  the 
British  Museum  and  to  R.  F.  Towndrow,  for  collations  of  those  in  the 
Bodleian.] 


THIERRY   AND   THEODORET. 

A  =  1621.     B  =  1648.     C  =  1649.     ^  =  Second  folio. 

(A)  THE    TRAGEDY  OF  THIERRY  KING  OF  |  France,  and  his  Brother  \ 
Theodoret.  |  As   it  was    diverse   times  acted  at  the   Blacke-  |  Friers  by  the 
Kings  Majesties  \  Servants.  |  LONDON,  \  Printed  for  Thomas  Walkley,  and  are 
to  bee  sold  at  |  his  shop  in  Britaines  Burse,  at  the  signe  of  |  the  Eagle  and 
Child.  |  1621. 

(B)  THE  |  TRAGEDY  |  OF  |  THIERRY  |  King  of  France,   and   his 
Brother  |  THEODORET.  |  As  it  was  diverse  times  acted  at  the  |  Blacke- 
Friers  by  the  Kings  Majesties  \  Servants.     Written  by  |  John  Fletcher  Gent.   | 
LONDON,  \  Printed  for  Humphrey  Mosely,  and  are  to  be  sold  at  |  his  Shop  at 
the  Princes  Armes  in  St.  Pauls  \  Church-yard.      1648. 

(C)  THE  |  TRAGEDY  |  OF  |  THIERRY  |  King    of   France,    and    his 
Brother  |  THEODORET.  |  As  it  was  diverse  times  acted  at  the  |  Blacke- Friers, 

FRACIS    BEAMONT.  ' 

by    the   Kings    Majesties  \   Servants.  |  Written    by  |  AND 

JOHN   FLETCHER 

Gent.   |  LONDON,  \  Printed  for  Humphrey  Moseley,  and  are  to  be  sold  at  |  his 
Shop  at  the  Princes  Armes  in  St.  Pauls  \  Church-yard.     1649. 

365 


APPENDIX 

[The  following  lines  arc  printed  from  the  edition  of  1649] 

The  Prologue  to   Thierry 
and    Thcodoni. 

Wit  is  bees  nit-  an  Antick;    and  puts  on 
As  many  shapes  of  variation, 
To  court  the  times  applause,  as  the  times  dare 
Chan  rail  fashion  v ;    nothing  is  thought  rare 

II 'hie h   is  not  ne:c  and  follow'1  d ;  yet  we  know 
That  what  was  worm  some  twenty  yeares  agoe 
Conies  into  grace  againe,  and  we  pursue 
That  customc,  by  presenting  to  your  view 
A   Play  in  fashion  then,  not  doubting  now 
But  'twill  appeare  the  same,  if  you  allow 
Worth  to  their  noble  memories,  whose  names 
Beyond  all  power  of  death  live  in  their  fames. 

The  Epilogue. 

Ur  Poet  knowes  you  will  be  fust ;    but  we 
Appeale  to  mercy:    he  desires  that  ye 
Would  not  distast  his  Muse,  because  of  late 
Transplanted',    which  would  grow  here  if  no  fate 
Have  an  unluckie  bode:   opinion 
Comes  hither  but  on  crutches  yet,  the  sun 
Hath  lent  no  beame  to  warme  us  ;    if  this  play 
Proceed  more  fortunate,  wee* II  crowne  the  day 
And  Love  that  brought  you  hither :    'tis  in  you 
To  make  A  Little  Sprig  of  Lawrell  grow, 
And  spread  into  a   Grove  where  you  may  sit 
And  here  soft  Stories,  when  by  blasting  it 
You  gain  no  honour,  though  our  mines  Lye 
To  tell  the  spoyles  of  your  offended  eye: 
If  not  for  what  we  are,  (for  alas,  here 
No  Roscius  moves  to  char  me  your  eyes  or  ear) 
Yet  as  you  hope  hereafter  to  see  Playes. 
Incourage  us,  and  give  our  Poet  Bayes. 

Dramatis  Persona. 

Thierry,  King  of  France 

Theodoret,   his  Brother  Prince  of  Austrachia 

Alartell,  their  noble  Kinsman 

Devitry,  an  honest  Souldier  of  fortune 

Protuldy, 


o 


Bawdher, 


Cowardly  Panders. 


366 


Lecure, 

A  Priest 

A  Post 

Huntsmen 

Souldiers 

Doctors 

Brunhalt,  Mother  to  the  Princes 

Ordella,  the  matchlesse  wife  of  Thierry 

Memburges,  Daughter  of  Theodoret. 

The  Scene  France. 


THIERRY  AND  THEODORET 

p.  i,  1.  5.     D]  Bawdher        1.  25.     A — D]  women. 

p.  2,  1.  i.  A]  promises  1.  5.  A]  shewes  vm  1.  6.  A]  multiplyes  vm 
1.30.  A— C]  Courts  a  this  D]  Nile,  have  1.37.  A—  C]  Theod..,. impu- 
dence, |  And... mother  |  Brought.., it  | 

p.  3,  1.  20.     D]  womam  1.  32.     B — D]  bedders.  1.  33.     A — C] 

Portalyde     D]  Protalyde 

p.  4,  1.  4.  B — D]  swetness  1.  8.  A]  am  I  thus  rewarded?  B  and  C] 
am  I  thus  rewarded,  1.  37.  A — C]  I  am 

p.  5,  1.  8.     D]  Bawdher        1.  26.     D]  long  she        1.  28.     D]  unlikt 

p.  6,  1.  3.     A — C]  I  am  not  1.  7.     A — D]  kisses.  1.  22.     A — C] 

For  I  am  1.  24.     D]  Actus  Secundus.     Sccena  Prima  1.  28.     D]  I'm 

jealous         1.  32.     D]  weakness 

p.  7,  1.  12.  D]  to  dependance         1.  24.     D]  reason         1.  29.     D]  lose 

p.  8,  1.  38.  B — D]  of  them         1.  39.     D]  mean's 

p.  9,  1.  30.  D]  ti's  pace         1.  30.     D]  Thierry,  be 

p.  10,  1.  13.  A — C]  I  am        1.  32.     B — D]  fiers        1.  35.     D]  or  if 

p.  n,  1.  5.  D]  Shal         1.  21.     A — D]  dust,  were 

p.  12,  1.  2.  A]  I  shall  still         1.  9.     D]  an  one         1.  40.     D]  win  'em, 

p.  13,  1.  r.  A— C]  shall  seeme  D]  shall  seem  1.  6.  B— D]  I'll  breath 
1.17.  DJknowledg  1.  24.  B— D]  Withall  1.34.  A— D]  Theoderet 
D]  Theoderet  Memberge, 

p.  14,  1.  21.     D]  Nero.         1.  27.     D]  colors 

P-  J5>  1-  36.     D]  Alass 

p.  16,  1.  12.     D]  eusie         1.  34.     B — D]  polcats         1.  35.     A]  trustde 

p.  17,  1.  22.  B — D]  mid  way  1.  25.  B — D]  away,  all  1.  27.  D] 
Portaldy  Lecure.  1.  34.  B — D]  pandar  sponge  1.  39.  D]  your  Son 

p.  18,  1.  7.  D]  delicats  1.  20.  A]  others,  death;  B — D]  others  death; 
1.29.  B—D]  of  chastity  1.39.  B— D]  i'st  ? 

p.  19,  1.  9.     D]  then,  think  you         1.  27.     D]  I'm 

p.  20,  1.  2.     A— C]  I  am  sure         1.  12.     D]  too  ;         1.15.     B—D]  i'st  ? 

p.  21,  1.  i.     B—D]  violence.  1.  4.     D]  Their.  1.  6.     D]  You  I'll 

hunt  1.  20.     A]  currall  1.  24.     A— C]  ath  1.  28.     A]  take  it 

1.  29.     D]  Farewll         1.  34.     B—D]  Sir, 

p.  22,  1.  6.  A]  met  a  noble  1.  27.  B — D]  tels  1.  34.  A]  to  set  my 
1.  40.  A— C]  they  are 

p.  23,  1.  ii.     A]  vm,  take  a  tree  Sir,     B  and  C]  um  take  a  tree  Sir,     D] 
'em  take  a  tree  Sir  ;         1.17.     D]  an        1.19.    B — D]  stay.         1.  20.    A — C] 
a  both         1.  28.     B — D]  bawb         1.  37.     A — C]  mushrump 
p.  24,  1.  9.     D]  Bawdher         1.  39.     B — D]  him,  I 
p.  25,  1.  7.     D]  Portaldye         1.  10.     A]  on  thy         1.  16.      D]  philip 

p.  26,  1.  1 8.  D]  volour  1.  20.  A]  is  care  1.  21.  D]  my  my  actions 
1.23.  D]  Martel  (here  and  often  elsewhere]  1-33-  A — D]  falls 

p.  27,  1.  14.     A — C]  the  nose  1.  18.     D]  should  1.  22.     D]  hear 

1.  29.     A— C]  that  is         1.  34.     D]  You're         1.  40.     D]  Marlel 

367 


APPENDIX 

p.  28,  1.  18.     D]  pray  pardon  1.30.     D]  your...Martel     B— D  Print 

as  a  nc~a<  line]  Mart.     Your  company,  etc.         1.  37.     D  omits}  fearefull 

p.  29,  1.  2.     A]  it     B— D]  it.         1.  22.     D]  volour 
p.  30,  1.  i.     A — D]  work 

p.  31,  1.  5.     A]  selfe's  1.  20.     D]  self.  1.  26.     D]  paralell'd, 

1.  27.     D]  mother,         1.  38.     A— C]  I  am         1.  40.     A— C]  the 

p.  32,  1.  2.  D]  fires  1.17.  D]  up.  1.22.  D]  mates.  1.32.  D] 
happiness. 

P-  33.  1-  14-  B — D]  one  stange  of  Revels,  and  each  ye  1.  29.  B — D] 
I  a  man?  1-37-  D]  thought 

p.  34,  1.  8.     D]  what  111  can  1.  35.     B  and  C]  conveniance     D]  con- 

venience 

p.  35,  1.  n.     B— D]  I  have  no  1.  26.     D]  born  1.  30.     D]  shall 

1.  32.     B  and  C]  marcht 

p.  36,  1.  2.     A  and  D]  their        1.  10.     A — D]  son's 
P-  37.  l-3i-     D]  born 

p.  38,  1.  ii.  A— C]  The  Dance.  1.  18.  B— D]  Theodoret?  1.  32. 
D]  to  't. 

P-  39,  1-  7-     B— D]  Whether        1.  13.     B— D]  my 

p.  40,  1.  9.     D]  knows.         1.  12.     D]  face 

p.  41,  1-  8-     D]  loans        1.  14.     D]  skill.         1.  15.     D]  his 

p.  42,  1.  29.     A — D]  hour.        1.  30.     D]  towards        1.  35.     D]  gil'd 

p.  43,  1-  38.     B— D]  away 

p.  45,  1-7-     D]  thing        1.  36.     D]  thoughts. 

p.  46,  1.  5.  A— D]  nothing's  hard,  1.  9.  D]  OrdeeL  1.  16.  B— D] 
humors.  1.  17.  A]  Bring  um  1.  21.  A — C]  Here  is  1.  28.  D]  hear. 
1.  35.  D]  knowledg. 

p.  47,  1.  i.    Possibly  thou'rt  made  the  blessing  is  intended      1.  14.    D]  Puls 
p.  48,  1.  3.     A— DJ  Devi.        1.  u.     D]  an        1.  20.     B— D]  thing 

p.  49,  1.  18.     B  and  C]  olive  beare     D]  Olive-bear  1.  23.     A — C] 

What  'tis 

p.  50,  1.  12.     A— C]  I  am         1.  36.     D]  snip         1.  37.     B— D]  us'd. 

p.  51,  1.  2.     B — D]  use  of  it  1.  n.     D]  Baun.     A  prints  a  new  line} 

And  we  will  1.  23.     A — C]  upon  it  1.  25.     A — C]  t'as  1.  35. 

B  and  C]  the  ability 

p.  52,  1.  24.     D]  hopes.  1.  26.     B — D]  them.  1.  30.     A — C]  the 

1.  39.     B  and  C]  stirre     D]  stirr 

p.  53,  1.  6.     A— C]  doest  1.  7.     B— D]  excuse.         1.  10.     D]  I 

p.  54,  1.  7.     D]  from  from  1.  14.     D]  guick 

P-  55,  !•  I5-     D]  I^d  down  1.  19.     B — D]  pleasure 
p.  56,  1.  2.     D]  argment 

p.  57,  1.17.  B— DJthanthou  1.  21.  A]  it  B  and  C]  it,  D]  it. 
1.  29.  D]  in  all 

p.  58,  1.  18.     D]  misery? 

368 


THE    WOMAN-HATER 

p.  59,  1.  4.     A— C]  of  good     D]  of  a  good  1.  7.     A]  a  thy  1.  15. 

B — D]  and         1.  20.     D]  some         1.  32.     D]  you? 

p.  60,  1.  29.     D]  Soldier. 

p.  61,  1.  28.     A — C]  only  bind  mee  before         1.  36.     D]  melancholly 

p.  62,  1.  8.     A]  fetch  em  11.  9-10.     A— C  omit  one]  where  1.  20. 

A]  em  1.  25.     A]  was  I,  dreampt  not  of  your  conveiance?     B  and  C]  was 

I,  dreampt  not  of  your  conveyance?  helpe  to  unbidd     D]  was  I?  dreamt  not 
of  your  conveyance,         1.30.     A]  top         1.  31.     A]  em 

p.  63,  1.  25.     D]  piece-meals         1.  32.     D]  paricide 

p.  64,  1.  2.     D]  Hawks  1.  7.     A — C]  cures     D]  omits  the  passage  in 

square  brackets  from  1.  1 1  to  I.  30  on  p.  67.     Supplied  here  from  A  1.  25. 

A]  prayers         1.  35.     C]  grace  feele  yourselfe  now 

p.  67,  1.  9.     A]  are  B  and  C]  them          1.  19.     A]  defeeaed          1.  20. 

B  and  C]  pleasures 

p.  68,  1.  6.     A]  give  1.  21.     A]  um  1.  27.     D]  Martel.  1.  39. 

D]  came 

p.  69,  1.  2.     B — D]  soule  away        1.  10.     A]  She  is        1.  15.     B — D]  Sir. 
1.  38.     A— C]  Dies 

p.  70,  1.  i.     A]  um        1.  2.     A]  um        1.  3.     D]  lasteh 

THE    WOMAN-HATER. 

A  =  1607.     B  =  1607.     C  =  1648.     D  =  1649. 
E  =  Second  folio. 

(A)  THE  |  WOMAN  |  HATER.  |  As  it  hath  beene  lately  Acted  by  \  the 
Children  of  Paules:  \  LONDON  |  Printed,  and  are  to  be  sold  |  by  John  Hodgets 
in  Paules  |  Church-yard.     1607. 

(B)  THE  \  WOMAN  |  HATER.  |  As  it  hath  beene  lately  Acted  by  \  the 
Children  of  Paules :  \  LONDON  |  Printed  by  R.  R.  and  are  to  be  |  sold  by  John 
Hodgets  in  Paules  |  Church-yard.     1607. 

(C)  THE   |   WOMAN   |   HATER.    |   As    it    hath    beene  Acted   by  his 
Majesties  \  Servants   with    great   Applause.  |  Written   by  |  JOHN    FLETCHER 
Gent.  |  LONDON,  \  Printed  for  Humphrey  Moseley,  and  are  to  be  sold  at  | 
his  Shop  at  the  Princes  Armes  in  St.  Pauls  \  Church-yard.      1648. 

(D)  THE  |  WOMAN  |  HATER,  |  OR    THE  |  Hungry    Courtier.  |  A 
COMEDY,  |  As  it  hath  been   Acted  by  his  Majesties  \  Servants  with  great 

(  FRANCIS    BEAMONT  1 
Applause.   \  Written    by   |  AND  \    Gent.    |  LONDON,    \ 

(   JOHN   FLETCHER.     ) 

Printed   for   Humphrey  Moseley,   and   are   to   be   sold    at  |  his   Shop  at  the 
Princes  Armes  in  St.   Pauls  \  Church-yard.     1649. 

The  Prologue  to  the    Woman-hater,  or  the 
Hungry   Courtier. 

A  dies  take't  as  a  secret  in  your  Eare, 

In  stead  of  homage,  and  kind  welcome  here, 
I  heartily  could  wish  you  all  ivere  gone  ; 
For  if  you  stay,  good  faith,  we  are  undone. 

B.-F.    X.  A  A  369 


APPENDIX 

Alas  !  you  no:i'  <  v/V</,   the  usual!  wayes 
Of  our  otMrt'SM',   ichich   it  your  Sc.\es  praise : 
J-iut  -we  to  night,    unluckily  must  speak  . 
Such  things  will  make  your  Lovers- Heart-strings  breake, 
Bely  your    I'irtucs,   and  your  beauties  stainc, 
With  words,  contri^d  long  since,  in  your  disdaine. 
'Tis  strange  you  stir  re  not  yet;    not  all  this  while 
Lift  up  your  Fannes  to  hide  a  scornefull  smile: 
ll'hisper,  or  jog  your  Lords  to  steale  away; 
So  leave  us  fact,  unto  our  selves,  our  Play: 
Then  sure,   there  may  be  hope,  you  can  subdue 
Your  patience  to  endure  an  Act  or  two : 
Nay  more,  when  you  are  told  our  Poets  rage 
Pursues  but  one  example,  which  that  age 
Wherein  he  liv*d  produced ;    and  we  rely 
Not  on  the  truth,  but  the  varietie. 
His  Muse  beleev  d  not,  what  she  then  did  write ; 
Her   Wings  were  wont  to  make  a  nobler  flight ; 
Sard  high,  and  to  the  Stars,  your  Sex  did  raise; 
For  which,  full  Twenty  yeares,  he  wore  the  Bayes. 
'  Twas  he  reduced  Evandra  from  her  scorne, 
And  taught  the  sad  Aspacia  how  to  mourne\ 
Gave  Arethusa's  love  a  glad  reliefe. 
And  made  Panthea  elegant  in  grief e. 
If  those  great   Trophies  of  his  noble  Muse, 
Cannot  one  humor  Against  your  Sex  excuse 
Which  we  present  to  night;  you?l  finde  a  way 
How  to  make  good  the  Libel  I  in  our  Play : 
So  you  are  cruell  to  your  selves ;   whilst  he 
(Safe  in  the  fame  of  his  integritie] 
Will  be  a  Prophet,  not  a  Poet  thought ; 
And  this  fine   Web  last  long  though  loosely  wrought. 

The  Epilogue  to  the   Woman-hater, 
or  the  Hungry  Coiirtier. 

r  I  *He  monuments  of  Vertue  and  desert, 

J_     Appeare  more  goodly  when  the  glosse  of  Art 
Is  eaten  off  by  time,  then  when  at  first : 
They  were  set  up,  not  censur'd  at  the  worst 
We  have  done  our  best  for  your  contents  to  Jit, 
With  new  paines,  this  old  monument  of  ivit. 

Dramatis  Persons, 

Duke  of  Millaine 

Gordatnio,  The  Woman- Hater 

Count   Valore,  Brother  to  Oriana 

Lucio,  A  foolish  Femall  Statesman 

Arigo,  A  Courtier  attending  the  Duke 

Lazarillo,  A  Voluptuous  Smell-feast 

His  Boy. 

A  Mercer,  A  City-Gull,   Perlously  in  Love  with  Learning. 

A  Pander 

A  Gentleman,  Instructor  to  Lucio 


37° 


THE  WOMAN-HATER 

A  Secretary  to  Lucio 

Two  Intelligencers 

Servants. 

Oriana,  The  Dukes  Mistris 

An  old  deafe  Country  Gentlewoman 

Ladyes 

Madona,  A  Courtezan 

Fraciscina,  One  of  her  Wastcote-wayters. 

The  Scene  Millaine. 

p.  71,  1.  14.  C — E]  dearenesse  of  his  cares  1.  16.  C — E]  it  -would please 
1.  25.  C  and  D]  Lord  Lord-borne  E]  Lord,  Lord  born 

p.  72,  1.  10.     C — E]  as  if 

p.  73,  1.  8.     E]  and  stare,  1.  21.     E]  years  1.25.     E]  the  dishes 

1.  29.     E]  Duke        1.  34.     E]  knowledg,         1.  36.     C — E]  to  give 

p.  74,  1.  19.     E]  chac'd  the         1.  36.     E]  he  gave  him 

p.  75,  1.  6.  C  and  D]  pleasant  varietyes  E]  pleasant  variety  1.  7.  E] 
swarmeth  with  1.  13.  C — E]  honor?  1.  21.  A  and  B]  satisfied. 

C — E]  satisfied 

p.  76,  1.  7.  Ejtwojoals  1.  18.  E]  Not  Palaces  1.35.  A  and  B] 
after  one  another  gone,  C  and  D]  after  one  anpther,  and  gone, 

p.  77,  1.  31.     C — EJ  it  will  not  swear  1.  32.     E]  it  it  1.  37.     E] 

Exceeding  apt  to  be 

p.  78,  1.  8.     E]  at  your  voice,  1.  9.     E]  your  Banquets  1.  38. 

E]  hav- 

p.  79,  1.  17.     E]  these  ordinary        1.  32.     E]  compass  the 

p.  80,  1.  8.  A — D]  ...Capon  sauce  |  Upon. ..of  dust,  |  Manchets  for... 
shields  |  1.  13..  A  and  B]  Count  is 

p.  81,  1.  17.  E]  Intelligencer  1.  28.  E]  rare  if  you  1.  31.  A  and  B] 
of  Informer  1.  16.  A  and  B]  in  earnest  ?  1.  18.  C — E]  ear-shots 

1.  30.     E]  body,  I  will 

p.  83,  1.  i.  A  and  B]  Int.  Your  Lordships  Servant,  is  followed  by  Laz. 
Will  it  please  C — E  print  as  a  separate  speech,  coming  before  LazJ\  Count. 
Your  Lordships  Servant.  1.  3.  E]  Lordship  to  walk? 

p.  84,  1.  15.     A — E]  desires  Rome 

p.  85,  1.  8.     A — D]  have  I  good  1.  19.     C — E]  plainess  1.  23. 

A — D]  in  talking,  treason         1.  38.     E]  shippers 

p.  86,  1.  25.     C — E]  How  !  Arrigo:  Lucio :        1.  32.     A — D]  It  is. 

p.  87,  1.  14.  A— D]  at  her  |  to  me?  1.  31.  A— E]  of  this  new 

1.  32.  E]  betwixt  Curtains 

p.  88,  1.  4.     E]  tooth-picks? 

p.  89,  1.  35.     E]  Uususpected 

p.  go,  1.  5.  C — EJ  thy  Fortune  is  now  1.  18.  E]  a  clock,  it  1.  34. 
A— D]  Hath  been 

p.  91,  1.  i.  C— E]  years  old  1.  4.  E]  sols  1.  13.  A— D]  that  men 
must  1.  14.  C  and  D]  that  men  must  live  E]  that  must  live  1.  23. 

A  and  B]  the  busines  C  and  D]  the  businesse  1.  26.  E]  shall  perceive 

1-  33-  C— E]  Arrigo  Lucio  1.  36.  E]  his. 

AA2  371 


APPENDIX 

p.  92,  1.  15.  C — K]  Wither  1.  27.  A]  Court,  there  1.  33.  E]  wil 
1.  39.  A — D]  with  patH-nce.  ;  t«>  heare.  E]  with  patience  to  hear. 

!'•  93-  '•  3.'-     E]  Lady's          1.  32.     EJ  and  twindge         1.  37.     E]     Crnd. 
p.  94,  1.  6.     E]  a  think  as          1.  7.     E]  let  the          1.  20.     C — E]  nor  this 
1.  22.     C — E]  silken  tgruns         1.  35.     E]  doe,  cover 

p.  95,  1.  i.     E]  have  otherwise         1.  17.     E]  lose 

p.  96,  1.  14.     E]  woman 

p.  97,  1.  32.      E]  knowledg 

p.  98,  1.  i.     E]  tougues        1.  7.     E]  lose         1.  28.     E]  the  sweet 

p.  99,  1.  6.     E]  passion?  yes  1.  26.     C — E]  women  :  to  1.  27. 

C — E]  not  to  be 

p.  100,  1.  8.     E]  I  unrip  1.  15.     E]  VaZores,  Sister  1.  26.     E] 

Basilisks,  dead 

p.  101,  1.  9.  C — E]  convert.  1.  22.  E]  as  I'm,  1.  23.  C — E]  we 
have  store  1.  34.  C  and  D]  I  am  the  man  that  E]  I'm  the  man  that 

1.  38.     E]  contritiou 

p.  102,  1.  4.     E]  ill  Spirit         11.  8-10     C— E] 

Gond.     By  the  true  honest  service,  that  I 

owe  these  eyes  strangely, 
My  meaning  is  as  spotles  as  my  faith. 

Oria.     The  Duke  doubt  mine  honour?  a 

may  judge 

1.  1 8.     E]  Gondarino,  shall  1.  24.     E]  Ladys  are  1.  27.     A  and  B] 

where  Witches 

p.  103,  1.  34.     E]  comsort 

p.  104,  1.  6.     C — E]  outward  court         11.  13-15  are  omitted  from  E 

p.  105,  1.  3.  E]  compass  it  search,  1.  4.  E]  braius  1.  20.  C — E] 
corrupted  1.  25.  A]  cut  out  the  meanes  1.  25.  C — E]  sword  1.  34. 
A — D]  here  a 

p.  106, 1.  22.  A — D]  a  saith  1.  22.  A — D]  he  is  greater  1.  24.  A — D] 
a  was  A  and  B]  did  yee  1.  25.  A — D]  a  fell  1.  27.  A — D]  a  meant 
1.  28.  E]  is  very  1.  29.  A  and  B]  if  a  deale  1.  33.  C — E]  we  not 

1.  37.     A — D]  because  a          1.  38.     A — D]  a  wo'd          1.  40.     E]  hand-sword 

p.  107,  1.  4.     A  and  B]  a  be  hanged.         1.  19.     C — E]  be  married 

p.  no,  1.  r.     A  and  B]  Surnamed               1.  3.     A]  stand  stiffe  1.  3. 

A — D]  places,  |  And  execute         1.  9.    A  and  B]  rays'd  bee;  by  this  1.  15. 

A— D]  whether             1.  16.     A  and  B]  whither?  wither?            1.22.  E]  kill 
1.  23.     E]  in  black 

p.  in,  1.  i.     E]  Actus  Tertius.  1.  21.     C — E]  constancy;  1.  27. 

C  and  D]  grave  words         1.  32.     C — E]  in  the  Summer 

p.  113,  1.  n.     A  and  B]  those  women         1.  28.     C — E  omit}  only 

p.  114,  1.  14.    E]  thar        1.  14.    A — D  omif\  a        1.  36.    C — E]  to  recover 

p.  115,  1.  16.     C — E  give\  Gondarino,  where  is  the  Lady?  a  separate  line, 
as  though  not  part  of  the  Duke's  speech.  1.  28.     E]  punish  1.  36.     E] 

virtuous, 

372 


THE  WOMAN-HATER 

p.  n6,1.6.     C— E  omit]  here  1.  7.     E]  scohlar  1.  18.     C— E] 

if  our  1.24.  A— D]  a  comes  1.30.  A— D]  shee  is  1.35.  A  and  B] 
would  ye 

p.  117,  1.  3.     E]  Peticoats,  and  Foreparts  1.  5.     C — E]  compliment? 

1.  10.     E]  stockins  C — E]  silk.  1.  n.     A  and  B]  they  are  a  the  best 

of  wooll,  and  they  cleeped  jersey.  C  and  D]  they  are  of  the  best  of  wooll,  and 
they  clyped  Jersey.  E]  they're  of  the  best  of  Wooll,  and  the  clipped  Jersey 
1.  1 6.  A  and  B]  their  bookes  1.  39.  C — E]  Poesies,  for 

p.  118,1.4.     A— D]  a  have  1.13.     C— E]  I  have  1.  21.     C— E] 

Laz.    Whereabouts         1.  23.    C — E]  because  of        1.  31.    A — D]  durst  a  said 

p.  ng,  1.  4.     E]  unsatisfied,  shall         1.  n.     A  and  B]  upon  yee         1.  14. 
C — E]  back,  again  fall         1.  17.     E]  meet 

p.  120.     1.2.     C— E]  Sphear  1.  4.     C— E]  then  1.13.     C— E] 

before  1.  30.     C — E]  what  good  1.  34.     A — D]  does  a  1.  36. 

A  and  B]  is  rich 

p.  121,  1.  i.    A  and  B]  is  thine       1.  2.     A — D]  a  were       C — E]  Indenture 
1.  3.     A— D]  a  bee  a  the  1.  7.     C— E  omit]  free  1.  14.     C— E]  my 

1.  16.     A  and  B  omit  stage  direction.  1.  17.     A — D]  a  comes  1.  25. 

C— E]  Fair  Sir:  I  thank  ye?         1.  35.     A  and  B]  feed  ye 

p.  122,  1.  10.     A  and  B]  will  ye  1.  14.     E  omits]  so  1.  16.     E] 

afflictions  1.  21.     E]  Laz.     This  kiss  is  yours,  1.  28.     C — E]  hold 

1.  37.     A— D]  a  should         1.  39.     A— D]  a  cal'd 

p.  123,  1.  37.     C — E]  to  be  one         1.  37.     C — E  omit]  same 
p.  124,  1.  2.     C — E  omit]  have        1.  37.     C — E]  thought 
p.  126,  1.  26.     E]  bandstring         1.  27.     E]  send 

p.  127,  1.  21.     A — D]  this  seven  yeares         1.  31.     C — E]  wind         1.  39. 
A — D]  fetch  am 

p.  128,  1.  4.     A  and  B]  All  readie? 

p.  129,  1.  9.     C — E  omit]  have  1.  15.     A — E]  to  bee  hang'd,  with 

silence  yet  1.  32.  E]  ahd  1.  33.  C— E  omit]  now  1.  34.  A  and  B] 
so  forward 

p.  130,  1.  4.     E]  I  Int.  1.  6.     C— E  omit]  other          1.  27.     C  and  D] 

Scena  3     E]  Sccena  Tertia        1.  30.     E  omits]  again 

p.   131,  1.  2.     A  and  B]  wilfull,  ignorant,  |  Of  your  owne  nakednes,  did 
1.  24.     A]  dar'st  to  turne     B]  dar'st  ta  turne 

p.  132,  1.  7.     E]  goldeu  1.  8.     A— D]  it          1.  16.     A  and  B]  whome 

have  ye  guarded  hether     C — E]  who  1.  22.     A  and  B]  a  hath  1.  25. 

E]  have         1.  28.     C— E]  shall 

p.  133,  I-  27-     C— E]  what         1.  34.     E]  brings 

p.  134,  1.  2.     A]  that  the         1.23.     E]  neighbors,         1.38.     C--E  omit] 
most 

p.  135,  1.  ro.     C—E]  longing         1.  u.     A— D]  there  is         1.  18.    C--E] 
my         1.  34.     A  and  B]  not  longer 

373 


APPENDIX 


p.  137,  1.  3.     E]  good.  1.  8.     C--E]  up,  1.  13.     A— D]  you  are 

1.  3?.     C--E  omit}  it         1.  34.     A — D]  deserve  it.         1.  35.     A — E]  too 

p.  138,1.  15.     B]  feast  at  all     C—E]  feast  all  1.  16.     A]  be  small 

1.  16.     B  omits}  if  1.  18.     A  and  B]  it  betweene  1.  20.     A  and  B] 

heavens  guard  the  tother     C  and  D]  the  tother         1.22.    1L  prints}  Duke  from 
above  at  end  of  line  as  stage  direction.         1.  23.     B — E]  What  I  ? 

P-  I39,  1-  3-     A  and  B]  ye  can  1.  13.     A  and  B]  talents  1.  18. 

A  and  BJ  give  to  you  1.  26.     C — E]  make  1.  29.     A  and  B]  Gundele 

C  and  D]  Gondele         1.  34.     E]  Cond.         1.  40.     A — D]  a  part 

1.  10.     E]  foft          1.  16.     A— D]  do, 
18. 


p.  140,  1.  5.     A  and  B]  assist  ye 
if  a  should     E]  do  ;  if  he  should         1 
a  wo'd         1.  19.     A — D]  a  wo'd  doe 


p.  141,  1.  5. 
your  Lordship? 

p.  142,  1.  14. 
C—E]  meditate 
merciful 


B — E]  them  on  her 


A — D]  if  a  cou'd  get  a  knife,  sure 
1.  24.     A  and  B]  stomack  rawe 

1.  11.     E]  thy        1.34.    C—E]  does 


A — E]  Whether  1.  22.     E]  wrongfully,  the  1.  25. 

1.  26.     E]  Time  will  call  1.  29.     C — E]  are  most 


NICE    VALOUR. 

A  =  First  folio.     B  =  Second  folio. 


or,  I  The  Passionate  Mad-man. 


1.  10.     B]  'twos 
1.  8.     A]  I  ha' 


(A)     THE  |  NICE  VALOUR, 
p.  143.     A  omits  all  after  L  2. 
p.  144,  1.  3.     B]  suffrage 

p.  145,  1.  5.     B]  repuations 
virtue  ;         1.  18.     B]  ot 

p.  146,  1.  5.     A]  'Has        1.  7.     A]  'Had         1.  18. 
P-  M7,  1-  35-     B]  enemy? 
p.  148,  1.  22.     A]  I  am 

p.  149,  1.  2.     A  omits}  Lady,  at  end 
beginning        1.  22.     A]  I  am 

p.  150,  1.  2.     B]  too 

p.  151,  1.  40.     A]  the  equality 

p.  153,  1.  15.     B]  us,  than 

p.  154,  1.  6.     B]  hie         1.  7 
B]is 

p.  157,  1.  5.     B]  Women, 
p.  158,  1.  23.     A]  an'  that 
p.  161,  1.  16.     A]  wrested 


1.  12.     B]  valour;  no 
B]  faithlfuly 


1.  3.     A  and  B  omit}  i  Gent,  at 


B]  amoroesly         1.  8.     B]  Shvm         1.  18. 


p.  162,  1.  5.     B]  difference,  'twixt 
p.  163,  1.  24.     A]  beaten  e'ne 


1.  1 8.     B]  time,  make 

1.  29.    A]  This  sute       1.  36.    A  and  B]  him  ? 
1.  22.     B]  sword. 

1.  ii.     B]  me,  brings 


p.  164,  1.  3.     B]  same 

p.  165,  1.  15. 

p.  167,  1.  1 1. 

p.  169,  1.  15.     B]  lame 


1.  32.     A]  'Has 
B]  thot         1.  27.     B]  /.  doubt 
B]  Tables         1.  32.     B]  thon 
1.  28.     B]  supper; 


1.  36.     B]  may  may 


374 


THE  HONEST  MAN'S  FORTUNE 

p.  170,  1.  6.  B]  puddings.          1.  u.     A]  Any  your 

p.  171,  1.  38.  B]  see  V. 

p.  173,  1.  5-  B]  Dap. 

p.  174,  1.  22.  B]  Song?         1.  35.     B  omits]  nine 

p.  175,  1.  12.     B]  earth.  1.  20.     B]  strength  trust  1.  21.     B  omits 

this  line        1.  40.     B]  1  shall 

p.  176,  1.  6.     B]  he        1.  31.     A]  'Death 
p-  *77>  1.  27.     B]  heir        1.  34.     A]  durst 

p.  178,  1.  u.     B]  Duke  1.  25.     B]  Gentleman  1.  27.     B]  agen. 

1.  30.     A]  other 

p.  179,  1.  9.  A]  any  anger         1.  38.     B]  and  I  will 

p.  180,  1.  15.  B]  you         1.17.     A]  hox 

p.  182,  1.  15.  A]  this  five  yeare 

p.  183,  1.  22.  B]  upon  me.  1.  31.     B]  Yov  1.  37.     B]  2  Gen. 

1.  39-     B]  Sir. 

p.  184,  1.  23.  B]  kick 

p.  186,  1.  17.  B]  in         1.  20.     B]  thick.         1.  34.     B]  god 

p.  187,  1.  1 8.  B]  Ha,  ha,  ha.  ha. 

p.  188,  1.  2.     A]  Now  I          1.  9.     B]  Pas.  1.  15.     B]  other,  like  fools 

dancing, 

p.  191,  1.  16.     B]  pleasingly. 

p.  192,  1.  3.     B]  Almanacks. 

P-  J93>  1-  36.     B]  i  Duke. 

p.  196,  1.  8.     B]  However         1.  9.     B]  confess,  it, 

p.  198,  1.  6.     A]  he  is        1.  6.     B]  writ. 

BEAUMONT'S    LETTER. 

A  =  First  folio.     B  =  Second  folio. 

p.  199,  1.  i.  A]  M.  Francis  1.  2.  A]  Master  Fletcher  1.  8.  A] 

see,  however  absent  is,  1.9.  ^Hay-makers  1.  n.  B]  / I  e  and 

1.  23.  B]  Rob.  1.  26.  A]  Providence,  keeps  \.  27.  B]  knights 

p.  200,  1.  2.     B  omits']  happy     [Should  have  been  printed  in  italics} 

p.  201,  1.  7.     B]  Ketches 

THE    HONEST    MAN'S    FORTUNE. 

A  =  Fiist  folio.     B  =  Second  folio. 

p.  2O2.     A  omits  all  after  1.  2. 

p.  203,  1.  2.     A]  Orleans         1.  9.     B]  brotherhood,  had 
p.  204,  1.  24.     B]  rhe         1.  32.     B]  Where-ever         1.  37.     B]  Longuezille 
p.  205,  1.  6.     B]  hehaviour 
p.  206,  L  17.     B]  Mrnt. 

p.  207,  1.  3.     B]ifhe         1.7.     B]  You're         1.  16.    B  repeats]  A  member 
as  to  lose  the  use— 

375 


APPENDIX 


p.  208,  1.  13.  B]  outside,  would         I.  24.     A]  with  labour  sir, 

p.  209,  1.  26.  A]  of  this         1.  27.     B]  merciful         1.  29.     B]  people,  that 

p.  210,  1.  7.  B]  Lam;.         1.  23.     A]  thought,  had 

p.  211,  1.  33.  A]  our  eyes. 

p.  212,  1.  13.  B]  say  ;         1.22.     B]  matter  : 

p.  213,  1.  3.     A]  Defence  is  never        1.  5.    B]  the  Girdler,  or  the        1.  26. 
B]  Beholding,  terrify         1.  33.     B]  it,  shall 

p.  214,  1.  5.     B]  you  silences  1.  13.     B]  report,  you  1.  16.     B]  to 

1.  25.     B]  charitable         1.  34.      B]  cloths 

p.  215,  1.  2.     B]  I'll         1.  24.     B]  Heaven 
p.  216,  1.  i.     A]  knowest         1.  2.     B]  I'm 

p.  217,  1.  8.     B]  Montague,  had  1.  23.     A  omits  the  stage  direction. 

1.  24.     A]  Enter  Amiens         1.  38.     B]  word 

p.  218,  1.  16.     B]  Heaven.         1.  33.     B]  parsuade 

p.  219,  1.  i.     A]  Then  that  thou  hast  1.  2.     A]  enemie  1.  33. 

A]  Or  kisses 

p.  220,  1.  3.     B]  one  1.  4.     B]  parsuade  A]  the  force.  1.  19. 

BJyou?        1.34.     K]Leng. 

p.  221,  1.  21.     B]do;         1.31.     B]  it  we 

p.  222,  1.  4.     A]  Greater  1.  16.     A]  A  bullet ;  if  you  be  Captain,  my 

1.  21.     B]  Lau. 

p.  223,  1.  33.     A  and  B]  Citizen. 

p.  225,  1.  8.     A]  it  seise         1.  21.     A]  certainest 

p.  226,  1.  9.     A  and  B]  Whithin  1.  18.     A]  for  if,  thou  hadst  have 

1.  26.     B]  Orleans,  is 

1.  34.     A  and  B]  Duboyes?  1.  35.     B] 


B]  I'll 


1.  13.     A]  women  they  rayle,  out  right.     B] 
I..i6.     A]  pritty  |  Jelly.         1.17.     A]  gallant 


1.  ii, 

1.  18. 


A]  he's  a 
B]  reason 


p.  227,  1.  21. 
hand,  hast 

p.  228,  1.  7.     B]  Ori. 
women  ;  they  rayl  out  right. 
1.  21.     B]  too  to, 

p.  229,  1.  4.  B  omits'}  God 

p.  230,  1.  15.     A]  a  merry 

p.  231,  1.  6.  B]  dost  not 

p.  233,  1.  22.     A]  free  out  the 

p.  234,  1.  4.  B]  tel  I 

P-  235>  1-  9«  A  and  B]  ous 

p.  237,  1.  12.     A]  received  for 

p.  238,  1.  2.  B]  Heaven 

p.  239,  1.  3.  A]  seem  to  me  unapt         1.  13.     B]  dream  ; 

p.  240,  1.  32.     B]  will         1.  36.     A]  Trouble  most  willingly  ; 

p.  241,  1.  5.     A]  showed  upon         1.  6.    B]  preformance         1.  9.    A]  make 
of  one  which  my  state  1.  13.     A]  tell  me,  prevent  your  further  1.  16. 

B]  Orleane         1.  37.     A]  hath  brought 


11.  15-16.     A]  tale-man 


376 


THE  HONEST  MAN'S  FORTUNE 

p.  242,  1.  3.     A]  about  all  safe  1.  5.     A]  deserve  a     B]  deserves,  a 

1.  1 6.     A]  makes          1.  25.     A]  Crohieture  1.  28.     B]  foot-cloaths,  durst 

1.  37-     A]  ha'. 

P-  243>  I-  13-     B]iflmay         1.23.     A  omits  stage  direction 
p.  245,  1.  10.     A]  Charlo,  Veramour,  salute.     B]  and  Voramour,        1.  23. 
B]  derseved         1.  28.     B]  pleased  ;         1.35.     B]  mine? 

p.  246,  1.  3.     B]  Which  is  as  it  1.  28.     B]  tongue  1.  30.     B] 

cozenages         1.  32.     A]  tell  you         1.  39.     B]  like  I  y, 

p.  247,  1.  36.  A]  had  done 

p.  248,  1.  29.  B]  gentler 

p.  249,  1.  10.  B]  boy  but  is  wanting         1.  34.     B]  lie 

p.  250,  1.  16.  B]  quenceh 

p.  251,  1.  4.     A]  Enter  Veramour  with  Counters  1.  7.     B]  merry)  or 

1.  16.     B]  tencher         1.  18.     B]  Heaven         1.  19.     B]  Heaven 

p.  252,  1.  6.  B]  disconrse  1.  7.  A]  of  Wormes  make  1.  27.  B]  1 
1.  40.  B]  up  all  all  the 

P-  253>  1-  3-     B]  Gentlewoman?         1.  30.     B]  Chal. 

p.  254,1.  8.     Bjjealons  1.  13.     B]  go.  Sir;  1.  14.     B]  Heaven 

1.  17.     B]  will 

P-  255>  1-  9-     A]  white  cheeke 

p.  257,  1.  25.     A]  Sea-service        1.  31.    A]  o'us        1.  34.    B]  troulesomest 

p.  258,  1.  17.     B]  will  he  1.  26.     A]  a  raile  but  my  Swords  bredth, 

upon  a  battlement,     B]  battlement. 

p.  259,  1.  12.  B]  ths  1.  31.  B]  treason  1.  36.  A]  their  Swords. 

1.  39.  B]  So, 

p.  260,  1.  9.  ?]  see  to  1.  ir.  B]  Out-loathed  1.  26.  B  omits}  Lam. 
1.  34.  B]  dye  1.  36.  A]  their 

p.  261,  1.  2.  B]  Out-howling  1.  4.  A]  countenance  1.  7.  B]  thon 
1.  15.  A]  of  devils 

p.  262,  1.  25.     B]  Heaven 

p.  263,  1.  3.  BJfeel?  1.15.  A]  I  am  1.17.  B]  Lan.  1.  26. 
B]  Ha'  my 

p.  264,  1.  19.  B]  no,  worse         1.  23.     A]  and  a  black 

p.  266,  1.  i.  B]  Heaven         1.  29.     B]  offended. 

p.  268,  1.  i.  B]  dog- whip?         1.  38.     B]  Heaven 

p.  270,  1.  36.  A]  Stur  your 

p.  271,  1.  6.  B]  Lam.         1.  28.     A  and  B]  too         B]  rgainst 

p.  272,  1.  16.  B]  lik         1.  21.     B]  company, 

p.  273,  1.  r.  B]  married  and  1.  7.  A]  credit  which  is  worse  cannot 

1.  17.  B]  understand,  love  1.  19.  B]  the  1.  25.  B]  Heaven  1.  32. 
A]  Nay 

p.  274,  1.  31.     B]  Hell         1.  31.     A]  Dunkirk* 

p.  275,  1.  7.  B]  Lov.  1.  7.  B]  Heaven  1.  8.  B]  Montagne 

\.  24.  B]  new 

377 


APPENDIX 

p.  276,  1.  r  8.  B  omits]  God         1.  39.      B]  Sea-works 

p.  277,  1.  r.  A]  me  on         1.  i.     A]  Right  Courtier 

p.  279,  1.   19.  A]  Command     B]  Command's 

p.  280,  1.13.  B]  For         1.28.      B]  knows         1.31.     B]  hear 

THE    MASQUE    OF   THE    GENTLEMEN    OF    GRAYS-INNE 

AND    THE    INNER-TEMPLE. 

The  quarto  is  as  follows  : 

THE  |  MASQUE  |  OF  THE  INNER  |  TEMPLE  AND  GRAVES  | 
INNE:  |  GRAVES  INNE  AND  THE  IN-|NER  TEMPLE,  PRESENTED 
BEFORE  |  his  Majestic,  the  Queenes  Majestic,  the  Prince,  Count  |  Palatine 
and  the  Lady  Elizabeth  their  Highnesses,  in  \  the  Banquetting  house  at  White- 
hall on  Sa-|turday  the  twentieth  day  of  Fe-|bruarie,  1612.  |  A7J  LONDON,  \ 
Imprinted  by  F.  K.  for  George  Norton,  and  are  to  be  |  at  his  shoppe  neere 
Temple-bar. 

THE  MASKE  OF  |  THE  INNER  TEMPLE  AND  |  GRAVES  INNE, 
GRAVES  INNE  |  and  the  Inner  Temple,  presented  before  his  |  Majestic,  the 
Queenes, 


"  I  ''His  Maske  was  appointed  to  have  beene  presented  the  Shrove-tuesday 
JL  before,  at  which  time  the  Maskers  with  their  attendants  and  divers  others 
gallant  young  Gentlemen  of  both  houses,  as  their  convoy,  set  forth  from 
Winchester  house  which  was  the  Rende  vous  towards  the  Court,  about  seven 
of  the  clocke  at  night. 

This  voyage  by  water  was  performed  in  great  Triumph.  The  gentlemen 
Maskers  being  placed  by  themselves  in  the  Kings  royall  barge  with  the  rich 
furniture  of  state,  and  adorned  with  a  great  number  of  lights  placed  in  such 
order  as  might  make  best  shew. 

They  were  attended  with  a  multitude  of  barges  and  gallies,  with  all  variety 
of  lowde  Musicke,  and  severall  peales  of  Ordnance.  And  led  by  two 
Admiralls. 

Of  this  shew  his  Majesty  was  gratiously  pleased  to  take  view,  with  the 
Prince,  the  Count  Palatine,  and  the  Lady  Elizabeth:  their  highnesses  at  the 
windowes  of  his  privy  gallerie  upon  the  water,  till  their  landing,  which  was  at 
the  privy  staires  :  where  they  were  most  honorablie  received  by  the  Lord 
Chamberlaine,  and  so  conducted  to  the  Vestry. 

The  Hall  was  by  that  time  filled  with  company  of  very  good  fashion,  but 
yet  so  as  a  very  great  number  of  principall  Ladies,  and  other  noble  persons 
were  not  yet  come  in,  wherby  it  was  foreseen  that  the  roome  would  be  so 
scanted  as  might  have  been  inconvenient.  And  there  upon  his  Majesty  was 
most  gratiously  pleased  with  the  consent  of  the  gentlemen  Maskers,  to  put  off 
the  night  until  Saturday  following  with  this  special  favour  and  priviledge, 
that  there  should  bee  no  let,  as  to  the  outward  ceremony  of  magnificence 
untill  that  time. 

At  the  day  that  it  was  presented,  there  was  a  choice  roome  reserved  for  the 
gentlemen,  of  both  their  houses,  who  comming  in  troope  about  seven  of  the 
clocke,  received  that  speciall  honor  and  noble  favour,  as  to  be  brought  to 
their  places,  by  the  Right  Honourable  the  Earle  of  Northampton,  Lord  Privie 
Scale. 

378 


THE    MASQUE,    ETC. 

TO  THE  WORTHIE  |  SIR  FRANCIS  BACON,  HIS  MA-|JESTIES 
SOLLICITOR  GENE-|rall,  and  the  grave  and  learned  Bench  of  |  the 
anciently  allied  houses  of  Grayes  |  Inne,  and  the  Inner  Temple,  the  Inner  | 
Temple,  and  Grayes  Inne. 

YEe  that  spared  no  time  nor  travell,  in  the  setting  forth,  ordering,  dr9 
furnishing  of  this  Masque,  being  the  first  fruits  of  honor  in  this  kinde, 
-which  these  two  societies  have  offered  to  his  Majestic  :  Will  not  thinke  much  now 
to  looke  backe  upon  the  effects  of  your  owne  care  and  worke :  for  that  whereof  the 
successe  was  then  doubtfull,  is  now  happily  performed  and  gratiously  accepted. 
And  that  which  you  were  then  to  thinke  of  in  straites  of  time,  you  may  now 
peruse  at  ley  sure.  And  you  Sir  Francis  Bacon  especially,  as  you  did  then  by 
your  countenance,  and  loving  affection  advance  it,  so  let  your  good  word  grace  it, 
and  defend  it,  which  is  able  to  adde  value  to  the  greatest,  and  least  matters. 

THE   DEVISE   OR  |  ARGUMENT  OF   THE  |  MASQUE. 

JUpiter  and  Juno  willing  to  doe  honour  to  the  Manage  of  the  two  famous 
Rivers  Thamesis  and  Rhene,  imploy  their  Messengers  severally,  Mercurie 
and  Iris  for  that  purpose.  They  meete  and  contend  :  then  Mercurie  for  his 
part  brings  forth  an  Anti-masque  all  of  Spirits  or  divine  Natures  :  but  yet  not  of 
one  kinde  or  liverie  (because  that  had  been  so  much  in  use  heretofore)  but  as 
it  were  in  consort  like  to  broken  Musicke.  And  preserving  the  proprietie  of 
the  devise ;  for  that  Rivers  in  nature  are  maintained  either  by  Springs  from 
beneath,  or  Shewers  from  above  :  He  raiseth  foure  of  the  Naiades  out  of  the 
Fountaines,  and  bringeth  downe  five  of  the  Hyades  out  of  the  Cloudes  to 
daunce ;  hereupon  Iris  scoffes  at  Mercurie  for  that  hee  had  devised  a  daunce 
but  of  one  Sexe,  which  could  have  no  life :  but  Mercurie  who  was  provided 
for  that  exception,  and  in  token  that  the  Match  should  be  blessed  both  with 
Love  and  Riches  calleth  forth  out  of  the  Groves  foure  Cupids,  and  brings 
downe  iromjupiiers  Altar  foure  Statuaes  of  gold  and  silver  to  daunce  with  the 
Nymphes  and  Starres  :  in  which  daunce  the  Cupids  being  blinde,  and  the 
Statuaes  having  but  halfe  life  put  into  them,  and  retaining  still  somewhat 
of  their  old  nature,  giveth  fit  occasion  to  new  and  strange  varieties  both  in 
the  Musick  and  paces.  This  was  the  first  Anti-masque. 

Then  Iris  for  her  part  in  scorne  of  this  high  flying  devise,  and  in  token 
that  the  Match  shall  likewise  be  blessed  with  the  love  of  the  Common  People, 
calles  to  Flora  her  confederate  (for  that  the  Moneths  of  flowers  are  likewise 
the  Moneths  of  sweete  shewers,  and  Raine-bowes)  to  bring  in  a  May-daunce 
or  Rurall  daunce,  consisting  likewise  not  of  any  suted  persons,  but  of  a 
confusion,  or  commixture  of  all  such  persons  as  are  naturall  and  proper  for 
Countrey  sports.  This  is  the  second  Anti-masque. 

Then  Mercurie  and  Iris  after  this  vying  one  upon  the  other,  seeme  to  leave 
their  contention  :  and  Mercurie  by  the  consent  of  Iris  brings  downe 
Olympian  Knights,  intimating  that  Jupiter  having  after  a  long  discontinuance 
revived  the  Olympian  games,  and  summoned  thereunto  from  all  parts  the 
liveliest,  &  activest  persons  that  were,  had  enjoyned  them  before  they  fell  to 
their  games  to  doe  honour  to  these  Nuptials.  The  Olympian  games  portend 
to  the  Match,  Celebritie,  Victorie,  and  Felicitie.  This  was  the  mame  Masque. 
The  Fabricke  was  a  Mountaine  with  two  descents,  and  severed  with  two 
Travesses. 

379 


APPENDIX 


At  (he  entrance  of  the  King. 

r  I  ""He  first  Travers  was  drawne,  and  the  lower  descent  of  the  Mountaine 
J_  discovered  ;  which  was  the  Pendant  of  a  hill  to  life,  with  divers  boscages 
and  Grovets  upon  the  steepe  or  hanging  grounds  thereof,  and  at  the  foote  of 
the  Hill,  foure  delicate  Fountaines  running  with  water  and  bordered  with 
sedges  and  water  flowers. 

Iris  first  appeared,  and  presently  after  Mercuric  striving  to  overtake  her. 

Iris  apparelled  in  a  robe  of  discoulored  Taffita  figured  in  variable  colours, 
like  the  Raine-bowe,  a  cloudie  wreath  on  her  head,  and  Tresses. 

Mercuric  in  doublet  and  hose  of  white  Taffita,  a  white  hat,  wings  on  his 
shoulders  and  feet,  his  Caduceus  in  his  hand,  speaking  to  Iris  as  followeth. 

MERCURIE. 

STay,   Stay. 
Stay  light  foot  7ris,  for  thou  strivest  in  vaine, 
My  wings  are  nimbler  then  thy  feete. 

IRIS. 

Away, 

Dissembling  Mercury  ;    my  messages 
Aske  honest  haste,  not  like  those  wanton  ones 
Your  thundring  father  sends. 

MERCURIE. 

Stay  foolish  Maid, 
Or  I  will  take  my  rise  upon  a  hill, 
When  I  perceive  thee  seated  in  a  cloud, 
In  all  the  painted  glorie  that  thou  hast, 
And  never  cease  to  clap  my  willing  wings, 
Till  I  catch  hold  of  thy  discolour'd  Bow, 
And  shiver  it  beyond  the  angry  power 
Of  your  curst  Mistresse,  to  make  up  againe. 

IRIS. 

Hermes  forbeare,  Juno  will  chide  and  strike  ; 
Is  great  Jove  jealous  that  I  am  imploy'd 
On  her  love  errands?   she  did  never  yet 
Claspe  weake  mortalitie  in  her  white  armes, 
As  he  hath  often  done  :    I  onely  come 
To  celebrate  the  long  wisht  Nuptials, 
Heere  in   Olympia,  which  are  now  perform'd 
Betwixt  two  goodly  Rivers,  which  have  mixt 
Their  gentle  rising  waves,  and  are  to  grow 
Into  a  thousand  streames,  great  as  themselves  ; 
I  need  not  name  them,   for  the  sound  is  lowde 
In  heaven  and  earth,  and  I  am  sent  from  her 
The  Queene  of  Mariage,  that  was  present  heere, 
And  smil'd  to  see  them  joyne,  and  hath  not  chid 
Since  it  was  done :    good  Hermes  let  me  go. 

38o 


THE    MASQUE,    ETC. 


MERCURIE. 

Nay  you  must  stay,  Joves  message  is  the  same, 
Whose  eies  are  lightning,  and  whose  voice  is  thunder, 
Whose  breath  is  any  winde,  he  will,  who  knowes 
How  to  be  first  on  earth  as  well  as  heaven. 

IRIS. 

But  what  hath  he  to  doe  with  Nuptiall  rights? 
Let  him  keepe  state  upon  his  starry  throne, 
And  fright  poore  mortals  with  his  thunderbolts, 
Leaving  to  us  the  mutuall  darts  of  eyes. 

MERCURIE. 

Alas,  when  ever  offer'd  he  t'abridge 

Your  Ladies  power,  but  onely  now  in  these, 

Whose  match  concernes  his  generall  government? 

Hath  not  each  god  a  part  in  these  high  joyes? 

And  shall  not  he  the  King  of  gods  presume 

Without  proud  funoes  licence  ?   let  her  know 

That  when  enamor'd  Jove  first  gave  her  power 

To  linke  soft  hearts  in  Undissolved  bonds, 

He  then  foresaw,  and  to  himselfe  -reserv'd 

The  honor  of  this  Mariage :    thou  shalt  stand 

Still  as  a  Rocke,  while  I  to  blesse  this  feast 

Will  summon  up  with  my  all  charming  rod, 

The  Nymphes  of  fountains,  from  whose  watry  locks 

Hung  with  the  dew  of  blessing  and  encrease, 

The  greedie  Rivers  take  their  nourishment. 

You  Nymphes,  who  bathing  in  your  loved  springs, 

Beheld  these  Rivers  in  their  infancie, 

And  joy'd  to  see  them,  when  their  circled  heads 

Refresht'  the  aire,  and  spread  the  ground  with  flowers : 

Rise  from  your  Wells,  and  with  your  nimble  feete 

Performe  that  office  to  this  happie  paire  ; 

Which  in  these  plaines,  you  to  Alpheus  did ; 

When  passing  hence  through  many  seas  unmixt, 

He  gained  the  favour  of  his  Arethuse. 

Immediatlie  upon  which  speech  foure  Naiades  arise  gentlie 
out  of  their  severall  Fountaines,  and  present  themselves 
upon  the  Stage,  attired  in  long  habits  of  sea-greene 
Taffita,  with  bubbles  of  Christall  intermixt  with  powder- 
ing of  silver  resembling  drops  of  water;  blewish  Tresses 
on  their  heads,  garlands  of  Water-Lillies.  They  fall 
into  a  Measure,  daunce  a  little,  then  make  a  stand. 

IRIS. 

S  Hermes  growne  a  lover,  by  what  power 
Unknowne  to  us,  calls  he  the  Naiades? 

MERCURIE. 

Presumptuous  Iris,  I  could  make  thee  daunce 
Till  thou  forgott'st  thy  Ladies  messages, 

38' 


I 


APPENDIX 

And  rann'st  backe  crying  to  her,   thou  shalt  know 
My  power  is  more,  oncly  my  breath,   and  this 
Shall  move  fix'd  starres,  and  force  the  firmament 
To  yeeld  the  Hyades,  who  governe  showers, 
And  dewie  clouds,  in  whose  dispersed  drops 
Thou  form'st  the  shape  of  thy  deceitfull  Bow. 
You  maids,  who  yearely  at  appointed  times, 
Advance  with  kindly  teares,   the  gentle  flouds, 
Descend,  and  powre  your  blessing  on  these  streames, 
Which  rolling  downe  from  heaven  aspiring  hils, 
And  now  united  in  the  fruitfull  vales ; 
Beare  all  before  them  ravisht  with  their  joy, 
And  swell  in  glorie  till  they  know  no  bounds. 

Five  Hyades  descend  softly  in  a  cloud  from  the  firmament, 
to  the  middle  part  of  the  hill,  apparelled  in  skie 
coloured  Taffita  robes,  spangled  like  the  Heavens, 
golden  Tresses,  and  each  a  faire  Starre  on  their  head, 
from  thence  descend  to  the  Stage,  at  whose  sight  the 
Naiades  seeming  to  rejoyce,  meete  and  joyne  in  a 
dance. 

IRIS. 

GReat  witte  and  power  hath  Hermes  to  contrive 
A  livelesse  dance,  which  of  one  sexe  consists. 

MERCURIE. 

Alas  poore  Iris,    Venus  hath  in  store 

A  secret  Ambush  of  her  winged  boyes, 

Who  lurking  long  within  these  pleasant  groves ; 

First  strucke  these  Lovers  with  their  equall  darts, 

Those  Cupids  shall  come  forth,  and  joyne  with  these, 

To  honor  that  which  they  themselves  begun. 

Enter  foure  Cupids  from  each  side  of  the  Boscage,  attired  in 
flame  coloured  Taffita  close  to  their  bodie  like  naked 
Boyes,  with  Bowes,  Arrowes,  and  wings  of  gold : 
Chaplets  of  flowers  on  their  heads,  hoodwinckt  with 
Tiffiny  scarfs,  who  joyne  with  the  Nymphes,  and  the 
Hyades  in  another  daunce.  That  ended,  Iris  speakes. 

IRIS. 

BEhold  the  Statuaes  which  wise    Vulcan  plac'd 
Under  the  Altar  of  Olympian  [ove, 
Shall  daunce  for  joy  of  these  great  Nuptialls  : 
And  gave  to  them  an  Artificial!  life, 
See  how  they  move,  drawne  by  this  heavenly  joy, 
Like  the  wilde  trees,  which  follow'd   Orpheus  Harpe. 

The  Statuaes  enter,  supposed  to  be  before  descended  from 
Joves  Altar,  and  to  have  been  prepared  in  the  covert 
with  the  Cupids,  attending  their  call. 


382 


THE    MASQUE,    ETC. 

These  Statuaes  were  attired  in  cases  of  gold  and  silver  close  to  their  bodie, 
faces,  hands  and  feete,  nothing  scene  but  gold  and  silver,  as  if  they  had  been 
solid  Images  of  mettall,  Tresses  of  haire  as  they  had  been  of  mettall  imbossed, 
girdles  and  small  aprons  of  oaken  leaves,  as  if  they  likewise  had  been  carved 
or  molded  out  of  the  mettall :  at  their  comming,  the  Musicke  changed  from 
Violins  to  Hoboyes,  Cornets,  &c.  And  the  ayre  of  the  Musicke  was  utterly 
turned  into  a  soft  time,  with  drawing  notes,  excellently  expressing  their 
natures,  and  the  Measure  likewise  was  fitted  unto  the  same,  and  the  Statuaes 
placed  in  such  severall  postures,  sometimes  all  together  in  the  Center  of  the 
daunce,  and  sometimes  in  the  foure  utmost  Angles,  as  was  very  gracefull 
besides  the  noveltie :  and  so  concluded  the  first  Anti-masque. 

MERCURIE. 
Nd  what  will  Junoes  Iris  do  for  her? 

IRIS. 

Just  match  this  shew  ;   or  my  Invention  failes, 
Had  it  beene  worthier,  I  would  have  invok'd 
The  blazing  Comets,  Clouds  and  falling  Starres, 
And  all  my  kindred  Meteors  of  the  Ayre 
To  have  excell'd  it,  but  I  now  must  strive 
To  imitate  Confusion,  therefore  thou 
Delightfull  Flora,  if  thou  ever  felt'st 
Encrease  of  sweetnesse  in  those  blooming  plants, 
On  which  the  homes  of  my  faire  bow  decline  ; 
Send  hither  all  the  Rurall  company, 

Which  decke  the  May-games  with  their  Countrey  sports; 
Juno  will  have  it  so. 

The  second  Anti -masque  rush  in,  daunce  their  Measure,  and 
as  rudely  depart,  consisting  of  a  Pedant. 

May  Lord,  May  Lady. 

Servingman,  Chambermaide. 

A  Countrey  Clowne,  or  Shepheard,  Countrey  Wench. 

An  Host,  Hostesse. 

A  Hee  Baboone,  Shee  Baboone. 

A  Hee  Foole,  Shee  Foole  ushering  them  in. 

All  these  persons  apparelled  to  the  life,  the  Men  issuing  out 
of  one  side  of  the  Boscage,  and  the  Woemen  from  the 
other :  the  Musicke  was  extremely  well  fitted,  having 
such  a  spirit  of  Countrey  jolitie,  as  can  hardly  be 
imagined,  but  the  perpetuall  laughter  and  applause  was 
above  the  Musicke. 

The  dance  likewise  was  of  the  same  strain,  and  the  Dancers,  or  rather 
Actors  expressed  every  one  their  part  so  naturally,  and  aptly,  as  when  a  Mans 
eye  was  caught  with  the  one,  and  then  past  on  to  the  other,  hee  could  not 
satisfie  himselfe  which  did  best.  It  pleased  his  Majestic  to  call 
at  the  end,  as  he  did  likewise  for  the  first  Anti-masque,  but  one  of  the  Statuaes 
by  that  time  was  undressed. 

383 


APPENDIX 

MERCURIE. 

IRis  we  strive, 
Like  windes  at  libertie,   who  should  do  worst 
Ere  we  returne.     If  Juno  be  the  Queene 
Of  Mariage,   let  her  give  happie  way 
To  what  is  done,  in  honor  of  the  State 
She  governes. 

IRIS. 

Hermes,  so  it  may  be  done 

Meerely  in  honor  of  the  State,  and  these 

That  now  have  prov'd  it,  not  to  satisfie 

The  lust  oi  Jupiter,  in  having  thankes 

More  then  his  Juno,  if  thy  snakie  rod 

Have  power  to  search  the  heavens,  or  sound  the  sea, 

Or  call  together  all  the  ends  of  earth, 

To  bring  in  any  thing  that  may  do  grace 

To  us,  and  these ;   do  it,  we  shall  be  pleas'd. 

MERCURY. 

Then  know  that  from  the  mouth  of  Jove  himselfe, 

Whose  words  have  wings,  and  need  not  to  be  borne  ; 

I  tooke  a  message,  and  I  bare  it  through 

A  thousand  yeelding  clouds,  and  never  stai'd 

Till  his  high  will  was  done  :    the  Olympian  games 

Which  long  have  slept,  at  these  wish'd  Nuptials, 

He  pleas'd  to  have  renew'd,  and  all  his  Knights 

Are  gathered  hither,  who  within  their  tents 

Rest  on  this  hill,  upon  whose  rising  head. 

Behold  Joves  Altar,  and  his  blessed  Priests 

Moving  about  it :    come  you  holy  men, 

And  with  your  voices  draw  these  youthes  along, 

That  till  Joves  musicke  call  them  to  their  games, 

Their  active  sports  may  give  a  blest  content 

To  those,  for  whom  they  are  againe  begun. 


The  Maine  Masque. 

THe  second  Travers  is  drawne,  and  the  higher  ascent  of  the  Mountaine  is 
discovered,  wherein  upon  a  levell  after  a  great  rise  of  the  Hill,  were 
placed  two  Pavilions  :  open  in  the  front  of  them,  the  Pavilions  were  to  sight 
as  of  cloth  of  gold,  and  they  were  trimmed  on  the  inside  with  rich  Armour 
and  Militarie  furniture  hanged  up  as  upon  the  walles,  and  behind  the  Tents 
there  were  represented  in  prospective,  the  tops  of  divers  other  Tents,  as  if  it 
had  been  a  Campe.  In  these  Pavilions  were  placed  fifteene  Olympian  Knights, 
upon  seates  a  little  imbowed  neere  the  forme  of  a  Croisant,  and  the  Knights 
appeared  first,  as  consecrated  persons  all  in  vailes,  like  to  Coapes,  of  silver 
TifHnie,  gathered,  and  falling  a  large  compasse  about  them,  and  over  their 
heads  high  Miters  with  long  pendants  behind  falling  from  them,  the  Miters 
were  so  high,  that  they  received  their  hats  and  feathers,  that  nothing  was  scene 
but  vaile :  in  the  midst  betweene  both  the  Tents  upon  the  very  top  of  the  hill, 

384 


THE    MASQUE,    ETC. 

being  a  higher  levell  then  that  of  the  Tents,  was  placed  Jupiters  Altar  gilt, 
with  three  great  Tapers  upon  golden  Candlesticks  burning  upon  it :  and  the 
foure  Statuaes,  two  of  gold,  and  two  of  silver,  as  supporters,  and  [upiters 
Priests  in  white  robes  about  it. 

Upon  the  sight  of  the  King,  the  vailes  of  the  Knights  did  fall  easilie  from 
them,  and  they  appeared  in  their  owne  habit. 

The  Knights  attire. 

Aiming  doublets  of  Carnation  satten  embrodered  with  Blazing  Starres  of 
silver  plate,  with  powderings  of  smaller  Starres  betwixt,  gorgets  of  silver 
maile,  long  hose  of  the  same,  with  the  doublets  laide  with  silver  lace  spangled, 
and  enricht  with  embroderie  betweene  the  lace  :  Carnation  silke  stockins 
imbrodered  all  over,  garters  and  roses  sutable  :  Pumpes  of  Carnaiton  satten 
imbrodered  as  the  doublets,  hats  of  the  same  stuffe  and  embroderie  cut  like  a 
helmet  before,  the  hinder  part  cut  into  Scallops,  answering  the  skirts  of  their 
doublets  :  the  bands  of  the  hats  were  wreathes  of  silver  in  forme  of  garlands 
of  wilde  Olives,  white  feathers  with  one  fall  of  Carnation,  Belts  of  the  same 
stuffe  and  embrodered  with  the  doublet :  Silver  swords,  little  Italian  bands 
and  cuffes  embrodered  with  silver,  faire  long  Tresses  of  haire. 

The  Priests  habits. 

Eng  roabes  of  white  Taffita,  long  white  heads  of  haire.     The  high  Priest  a 
cap  of  white  silke  shagge  close  to  his  head,  with  two  labels  at  the  eares, 
the  midst  rising  in  forme  of  a  Pyramis,  in  the  top  thereof  a  branch  of  silver, 
every  Priest  playing  upon  a  Lute  :  twelve  in  number. 

The  Priests  descend  and  sing  this  song  following,  after 
whom  the  Knights  likewise  descend  :  first  laying  aside 
their  vailes,  belts,  and  swords. 

The  first  Song. 


O  Hake  off  your  heavy  traunce. 


And  leape  into  a  daunce, 
Such  as  no  mortals  use  to  treade, 

Fit  only  for  Apollo 
To  play  to,  for  the  Moone  to  lead, 

And  all  the  Starres  to  follow. 

The  Knighs  by  this  time  are  all  descended  and  fallen  into 
their  place,  and  then  daunce  their  first  Measure. 

The  second  Song. 

ON  blessed  youthes,  for  Jove  doth  pause 
Laying  aside  his  graver  lawes 

For  this  device, 

And  at  the  wedding  such  a  paire, 
Each  daunce  is  taken  for  a  praier, 
Each  song  a  sacrifice. 

The  Knights  daunce  their  second  Measure. 
B.-F.    X.  BB  385 


APPENDIX 

The  third  Song. 
Single. 

MOre  pleasing  were  these  sweet  delights, 
If  Ladies  mov'd  as  well  as  Knights  ; 
JRunne  ev'ry  one  of  you  and  catch 
A  Nymph  in  honor  oj  this  match  ; 
And  whisper  boldly  in  her  eare, 
Jove  will  but  laugh,   if  you  forsweare. 

All. 

And  this  dayes  sinnes  he  doth  resolve 
That  we  his  Priests  should  all  absolve. 

The  Knights  take  their  Ladies  to  daunce  with  them  Galliards, 
Durets,  Corantoes,  &c.  and  leade  them  to  their  places. 
Then  loude  Musicke  sound's,  supposed  to  call  them  to 
their  Olympian  games. 

The  fourth  Song. 

YE  should  stay  longer  if  we  durst, 
Away,  alas  that  he  that  Jirst 
Gave   Time  witde  wings  to  fly  away, 
Hath  now  no  power  to  make  him  stay. 
But  though  these  games  must  needs  be  plaid, 
I  would  this  Paire,   when  they  are  laid, 

And  not  a  creature  nie  them, 
Coiild  catch  his  scythe,  as  he  doth  passe, 
And  cut  his  wings,  and  breake  his  glasse, 

And  keepe  hi?n  ever  by  them. 

The  Knights  daunce  their  parting  Measure  and  ascend,  put 
on  their  Swords  and  Belts,  during  which  time  the 
Priests  sing  the  fifth  and  last  Song. 

PEace  and  silence  be  the  guide 
To  the  Man,  and  to  the  Bride, 
If  there  be  a  joy  yet  new 
In  mariage,  let  it  fall  on  you, 

That  all  the  world  may  wonder. 
If  we  should  stay,  we  should  doe  worse, 
And  turne  our  blessing  to  a  curse, 
By  keeping  you  asunder. 

FINIS. 

Q  =  Quarto.     A  =  First  folio.     B  =  Second  folio. 

p.  281,  1.  6.     A]  at  White-hall  1.  12.     B]  loot  1.  21.     B]  glory, 

1.  22.     A  and  B]  wing         1.  23.     A  and  B]  on         1.  25.     A  and  B]  mad 

p.  282,  1.  7.     A  and  B]  that  1.  8.     A  and  B]  winding  1.  17. 

A  and  B]  airy  1.  18.     A  and  B]  in  1.  20.     A  and  B]  sit  pleas'd 

1.  23.    B]  offer'd,         1.  24.    A  and  B]  now,         1.  25.     A  and  B]  the         1.  29. 
B]  firk         1.  30.     A  and  B]  undissolving  bands         1.  38.     A  and  B]  Yea 

386 


FOUR   PLAYS   IN  ONE 

p.  283,  1.  10.     A  and  B]  Maids  1.  19.     A  and  B]  Yea  1.  31. 

A  and  B]  lively        1.  39.     B]  the 

p.  284,  1.  4.  A  and  B  omit  this  line.  1.  n.  A  and  B]  mine  inventions 
fail  1.  14.  B]  kindred,  Meteors  1.  20.  A  and  B]  that  1.  21. 

A  and  B]  clownish  1.  23.     A  and  B]  rusheth  in,  they  dance  1.  32. 

A  and  B]  those         1.  38.     A  and  B]  thee 

p.  285,  1.  2.     A  and  B]  bore        1.  5.     A  and  B]  had        1.  9.     B]  Priests 

p.  286,  1.  9.  B]  that,  1.  12.  A  and  B]  You  1.  15.  A  and  B]  IT  as 
1.  10.  A  and  B]  And  1.  17.  A  and  B]  these  1.  19.  A  and  B]  Might 
1.  21.  A  and  B]  clip  1.  25.  B]  yet 


FOUR   PLAYS   IN    ONE. 

A  =  First  folio.     B  =  Second  folio. 
(A)     FOUR  PLAYS,  |  OR    Morall  Representations,  |  IN  ONE. 

p.  287.     A  omits  from  1.  2  on  p.  287  and  the  whole  of  p.  288. 
p.  290,  1.  8.     B]  you,  is         1.  20.     B]  Not         1.  39.     B]  lienaments 
p.  291,  1.  17.     A]  are  Hinshers  bare  before         1.  18.     A]  Hinsher 
p.  293,  1.  13.     B]  to  a  void         1.  19.     B]  did  conquer 
p.  294,  1.  1 8.     B]  prayers.         1.  29.     B]  the 
p.  295,  1.  30.     ?]  coarser 
p.  296,  1.  31.     B]  Conqust 

p.  297,  1.  28.     B]  transferred         1.  29.     B]  gentle 
p.  298,  1.  7.     B]  to  ward  thee         1.  30.     B]  by 
p.  299,  1.  31.     B]  Nichodemus  /,         11.  38~39-     A]  prosecute 
p.  300,  1.  10.     A  and  B]  Corin.         1.  16.     B]  cod-shead 
p.  301,  1.  16.     B]  Tragedion         1.  29.     B]  yoor 

p.  302,  1.  8.     B]  you         1.  19.     B]  house  use         1.  36.     B]  Martins,  had 
p.  305,  1.  6.     B]  than         1.  12.     B]  I'm         1.  19.     B]  I'm 
p.  306,  1.  21.     B]  Maray 
p.  307,  1.  19.     A]  I  am         1.  33.     B]  cannot 
p.  308,  1.  31.     B]  tears? 

p.  309,  1.  2.     B]  know,  that         1.  32.     B]  Ladyes 
p.  310,  1.  5.     B]  Martius,  be 

p.  311,  1.  19.     B]  Exeuni  1.  23.     B]  triumph  with  1.  32. 

Ladyes        1.  35.     B]  Scepteron  the 

p.  312,  1.  16.     B]  shs 

387 


APPENDIX 


p.  313,  1.  i.     B]  affeions  \.  6.     A]  Violane 

1.  29.     A]  Violane        1.  30.     B]  yout 

p.  314,  1.  ii.     A]  Violane\         1.  16. 


1.  7.     B]  Gerrerd 
1.  21. 


B]  away  your         1.  21.     B]  mus 

P-  3J5>  1-   4-     B  0;wzV.s-  M£  speech   in  square  brackets,  and  gives  the  one 
following  it  to  Ferd.          1.  34.     B]  affaris 


p.  316,  1.  19.     B]  bebt 
B] than 


1.  22.     B]  to  1.  31.     B]  estate 

1.  29.     B]  loook 


1-35- 


p.  317,  1.  8.  B]  prepartion 

p.  318,  1.  38.  B]  pray 

p.  320,  1.  3.  B]  an-old 

p.  321,  1.  2.  B]  weeping 

p.  322,  1.  14.  B]  live         1.  34. 

p.  323,  1-  17-  B]  keys,  I'll 
1.  37.     B]  Stet.        1.  38. 

p.  324,  1.  6.  B]  Angel 

p.  325.  I-  4-  B]  griefe 

p.  326,  1.  5.  B]  cursse 

p.  327,  1.  i.  B]  wash 

p.  328,1.  ii.  B]  offended.  1.  14.     B]  suff  ewith  1.  20. 

1.  32.     B]  Uncle  o  all         1.  33.     B]  piry         1.  40.     B]  Violanto, 

p.  329,  1.  17.  B]  M  dearest 

P-  33°.  1-  5-  B]  Cer.  1.  10.     A]  Why?  shouldst  thou  dye, 

A]  States  read 

p.  331,  1.  14.  A]  yond' 

p.  333,  1.  22.  B]  Madam 

P-  334,  I-  23.  B]  't 

P-  335,  1-  14-  B]  blastad 
1.  35.     B]  be  ye 


A]  lie  above 

B]  Contract,  1 
Angel 

1.  19.     B]  too 

1.  14.     B]  Gcrrard 


1.  1 8.      B]  Vlolanta 


B]  whole 


1.   22. 


1.  30.     B]  slave  !  I.  and  that        1.  32.    B]  me 


1.  37.     A]  my  ever  service  here  I  dedicate 
1.17.     B]  Perolot.  1.23.     B]  tried 


p-  336,  1.  31.     B]  business. 

p.  337,  1.  6.     B] Oh 

1.  31.     B]  roof,  is         1.  39.     B]  I  Court 

p.  339,  1.  10.     B]  Oh,  !  am         1.  26.     A  omits  stage  direction. 

p.  341,  1.  30.     B]  Bur         1.  31.     B]  creature         1.  36.     B]  and 

p.  342,  1.  7.     B]  light 

p.  343,  1.  2,     A]  ye  onely 

p.  344,  1.  2.     B]  offices         1.26.     BJway:,         1.31.     B]  Perelot 

p.  345,  1.  i.     B]  lips        1.  3.     B]  not        1.  7.     B]  Perelot 

388 


FOUR   PLAYS   IN   ONE 

P-  347  >  !•  3-     B]  Lavall. 

p.  348,  1.  39.     B  omits  the  line  in  square  brackets.         1.  17.     B]  constancie 
1.  1  8.     B]  goodness? 

p.  350,  1.  21.     B]  brim'd         1.  38.     K\  falls. 
P-  351,  !•  8.     B]  Perolet        1.  19.     B]  a  fire 
P-  353>  1-  6.     B]  vengeaance        1.  26.     B]  em 
p.  355,  1.  24.     B]  incritfd        1.  25.     B  omits'}  a 
p.  356,  1.  14.     B]  1        1.  24.     B]  clappiug        1.  33. 
p.  357,  1.  19.     B]  courtisie 
p.  358,  ].  1  8.     B]  my 

1.  8.     B]  and  Pleasure 


1.  22.     B]  mnst 


B]  en 


p-  359,  1.  i-     B]  A  way 
A]  sweat         1.  39.     B]  my 


1.  14.     B]  statuas 


1.  21.     B]  love 


p.  361,  1.  19.     B]  with 

p.  362,  1.  26.     B]  Neve        1.  31.     B] 

p.  363,  1.  2.     B]  Lucre,  Craft, 
1.  24.     A]  Be  done        1.  27.     B]  Lncre 


1.21.     B]  want.     Strike  Mercury. 


END  OF  VOL.  X.