SCENA III.
Enter Duke, Borosky.
Duke. Are the Souldiers still so mutinous?
Bor. More than ever,
No Law nor Justice frights 'em: all the Town over
They play new pranks and gambols: no mans person,
Of what degree soever, free from abuses:
And durst they doe this, (let your grace consider)
These monstrous, most offensive things, these villanies,
If not set on, and fed? if not by one
They honour more than you? and more aw'd by him?
Duke. Happily their own wants.
Boros. I offer to supply 'em,
And every hour make tender of their moneys:
They scorn it, laugh at me that offer it:
I fear the next device will be my life Sir;
And willingly I'le give it, so they stay there.
Duke. Do you think Lord Archas privie?
Bor. More than thought,
I know it Sir, I know they durst not doe
These violent rude things, abuse the State thus,
But that they have a hope by his ambitions—
Duke. No more: he's sent for?
Boros. Yes, and will be here sure.
Duke. Let me talk further with you anon.
Boros. I'le wait Sir.
Duke. Did you speak to the Ladies?
Boros. They'l attend your grace presently.
Duke. How do you like 'em?
Boros. My eyes are too dull Judges.
They wait here Sir. [Exit.
Enter Honora, and Viola.
Duke. Be you gone then: Come in Ladies,
Welcom to th' court sweet beauties; now the court shines,
When such true beams of beauty strike amongst us:
Welcom, welcom, even as your own joyes welcom.
How do you like the Court? how seems it to you?
Is't not a place created for all sweetness?
Why were you made such strangers to this happiness?
Barr'd the delights this holds? the richest jewels
Set ne're so well, if then not worn to wonder,
By judging eyes not set off, lose their lustre:
Your Country shades are faint; blasters of beauty;
The manners like the place, obscure and heavie;
The Rose buds of the beauties turn to cankers,
Eaten with inward thoughts: whilst there ye wander.
Here Ladies, here, you were not made for Cloisters,
Here is the Sphere you move in: here shine nobly,
And by your powerfull influence command all:
What a sweet modestie dwells round about 'em,
And like a nipping morn pulls in their blossoms?
Hon. Your grace speaks cunningly, you doe not this,
I hope Sir, to betray us; we are poor triumphs;
Nor can our loss of honour adde to you Sir:
Great men, and great thoughts, seek things great and worthy,
Subjects to make 'em live, and not to lose 'em;
Conquests so nobly won, can never perish;
We are two simple maids, untutor'd here Sir;
Two honest maids, is that a sin at Court Sir?
Our breeding is obedience, but to good things,
To vertuous and to fair: what wou'd you win on us?
Why do I ask that question, when I have found ye?
Your Preamble has pour'd your heart out to us;
You would dishonour us; which in your translation
Here at the Court reads thus, your grace would love us,
Most dearly love us: stick us up for mistresses:
Most certain, there are thousands of our sex Sir
That would be glad of this, and handsom women,
And crowd into this favour, fair young women,
Excellent beauties Sir: when ye have enjoy'd 'em,
And suckt those sweets they have, what Saints are these then?
What worship have they won? what name you ghess Sir,
What storie added to their time, a sweet one?
Duke. A brave spirited wench.
Hon. I'le tell your grace,
And tell ye true: ye are deceiv'd in us two,
Extreamly cozen'd Sir: And yet in my eye
You are the handsomst man I ever lookt on,
The goodliest Gentleman; take that hope with ye;
And were I fit to be your wife (so much I honour ye)
Trust me I would scratch for ye but I would have ye.
I would wooe you then.
Duke. She amazes me:
But how am I deceiv'd?
Hon. O we are too honest,
Believe it Sir, too honest, far too honest,
The way that you propound too ignorant,
And there is no medling with us; for we are fools too,
Obstinate, peevish fools: if I would be ill,
And had a wantons itch, to kick my heels up,
I would not leap into th' Sun, and doe't there,
That all the world might see me: an obscure shade Sir,
Dark as the deed, there is no trusting light with it,
Nor that that's lighter far, vain-glorious greatness.
Duke. You will love me as your friend?
Ho[n]. I will honour ye,
As your poor humble handmaid serve, and pray for ye.
Du. What sayes my little one; you are not so obstinate?
Lord how she blushes: here are truly fair souls:
Come you will be my love?
Viol. Good Sir be good to me,
Indeed I'le doe the best I can to please ye;
I do beseech your grace: Alas I fear ye.
Duke. What shouldst thou fear?
Hon. Fie Sir, this is not noble.
Duke. Why do I stand entreating, where my power—
Hon. You have no power, at least you ought to have none
In bad and beastly things: arm'd thus, I'le dye here,
Before she suffer wrong.
Duke. Another Archas?
Hon. His child Sir, and his spirit.
Duke. I'le deal with you then,
For here's the honour to be won: sit down sweet,
Prethee Honora sit.
Hon. Now ye intreat I will Sir.
Duke. I doe, and will deserve it.
Hon. That's too much kindness.
Duke. Prethee look on me.
Hon. Yes: I love to see ye,
And could look on an age thus, and admire ye:
Whilst ye are good and temperate I dare touch ye,
Kiss your white hand.
Duke. Why not my lips?
Hon. I dare Sir.
Duke. I do not think ye dare.
Hon. I am no coward.
D[o] you believe me now? or now? or now Sir?
You make me blush: but sure I mean no ill Sir:
It had been fitter you had kiss'd me.
Du. That I'le doe too.
What hast thou wrought into me?
Hon. I hope all goodness:
Whilst ye are thus, thus honest, I dare do any thing,
Thus hang about your neck, and thus doat on ye;
Bless those fair lights: hell take me if I durst not—
But good Sir pardon me. Sister come hither,
Come hither, fear not wench: come hither, blush not,
Come kiss the Prince, the vertuous Prince, the good Prince:
Certain he is excellent honest.
Du. Thou wilt make me—
Hon. Sit down, and hug him softly.
Du. Fie Honora,
Wanton Honora; is this the modesty,
The noble chastity your on-set shew'd me,
At first charge beaten back? Away.
Hon. Thank ye:
Upon my knees I pray, heaven too may thank ye;
Ye have deceiv'd me cunningly, yet nobly
Ye have cozen'd me: In all your hopefull life yet,
A Scene of greater honour you ne're acted:
I knew fame was a lyar, too long, and loud tongu'd,
And now I have found it: O my vertuous Master.
Viol. My vertuous Master too.
Hon. Now you are thus,
What shall become of me let fortune cast for't.
Enter Alinda.
Du. I'le be that fortune, if I live Honora,
Thou hast done a cure upon me, counsel could not.
Al. Here take your ring Sir, and whom ye mean to ruine,
Give it to her next; I have paid for't dearly.
Hon. A Ring to her?
Du. Why frowns my fair Alinda?
I have forgot both these again.
Al. Stand still Sir,
Ye have that violent killing fire upon ye,
Consumes all honour, credit, faith.
Hon. How's this?
Al. My Royal Mistris favour towards me,
Woe-worth ye Sir, ye have poyson'd, blasted.
Duke. I sweet?
Al. You have taken that unmanly liberty,
Which in a worse man, is vain glorious feigning,
And kill'd my truth.
Du. Upon my life 'tis false wench.
Al. Ladies,
Take heed, ye have a cunning gamester,
A handsom, and a high; come stor'd with Antidotes,
He has infections else will fire your blouds.
Du. Prethee Alinda hear me.
Al. Words steept in hony,
That will so melt into your minds, buy Chastity,
A thousand wayes, a thousand knots to tie ye;
And when he has bound ye his, a thousand ruines.
A poor lost woman ye have made me.
Du. I'le maintain thee,
And nobly too.
Al. That Gin's too weak to take me:
Take heed, take heed young Ladies: still take heed,
Take heed of promises, take heed of gifts,
Of forced feigned sorrows, sighs, take heed.
Du. By all that's mine, Alinda—
Al. Swear
By your mischiefs:
O whither shall I goe?
Duke. Go back again,
I'le force her take thee, love thee.
Alin. Fare ye well, Sir,
I will not curse ye; only this dwell with ye,
When ever ye love, a false belief light on ye. [Exit.
Hon. We'll take our leaves too, Sir.
Duke. Part all the world now,
Since she is gone.
Hon. You are crooked yet, dear Master,
And still I fear— [Exeunt.
Duke. I am vext,
And some shall find it. [Exit.