The PROLOGUE.

Where the Bee can suck no Honey, she leaves her sting behind; and where the Bear cannot find Origanum to heal his grief, he blasteth all other leaves with his breath. We fear it is like to fare so with us; that seeing you cannot draw from our labours sweet content, you leave behind you a sower mis-like, and with open reproach blame our good meaning, because you cannot reap the wonted mirth. Our intent was at this time to move inward delight, not outward lightness; and to breed (if it might be) soft smiling, not loud laughing: knowing it (to the wise) to be a great pleasure, to hear Counsel mixed with Wit, as to the foolish to have sport mingled with rudeness. They were banished the Theater of Athens, and from Rome hissed, that brought Parasites on t[h]e Stage with apish actions, or Fools with uncivil habits, or Courtezans with immodest words. We have endeavoured to be as far from unseemly speeches, to make your ears glow, as we hope you will be free from unkind reports, or mistaking the Authors intention (who never aimed at any one particular in this Play,) to make our cheeks blush. And thus I leave it, and thee to thine own censure, to like, or dislike. Vale.

The Actors Names.

Enter Prologue.

From all that's near the Court, from all that's great
Within the compass of the City-walls
We now have brought our Scene.

Enter Citizen.

Cit. Hold your peace good-man boy.

Pro. What do you mean Sir?

Cit. That you have no good meaning: These seven years there hath been Plays at this House, I have observed it, you have still girds at Citizens; and now you call your Play The London Merchant. Down with your Title, Boy, down with your Title.

Pro. Are you a member of the noble City?

Cit. I am.

Pro. And a Free-man?

Cit. Yea, and a Grocer.

Pro. So Grocer, then by your swe[e]t favour, we intend no abuse to the City.

Cit. No sir,
Yes sir,
If you were not resolv'd to play the Jacks,
What need you study for new subjects,
Purposely to abuse your betters?
Why could not you be contented,
As well as others,
With the Legend of Whittington,
Or the life and death of Sir Thomas Gresham?
With the building of the Royal Exchange?
Or the storie of Queen Elenor,
With the rearing of London bridge upon Woollsacks?

Pro. You seem to be an understanding man:
What would you have us do sir?

Cit. Why?
Present something notably
In honor of the Commons of the City.

Pro. Why,
What do you say, to the life and death of fat Drake,
Or the repairing of Fleet Privies?

Cit. I do not like that,
But I will have a Citizen,
And he shall be of my own Trade.

Pro. Oh,
You should have told us your mind
A month since,
Our Play is ready to begin now.

Cit. 'Tis all one for that,
I will have a Grocer,
And he shall do admirable things.

Pro. What will you have him do?

Cit. Marry I will have him—

Wife. Husband, Husband.

Wife below, Ralph below.

Ralph. Peace, Mistriss.

Wife. Hold thy peace Ralph,
I know what I do,
I warrant ye.
Husband, Husband.

Cit. What say'st thou Conie?

Wife. Let him kill a Lion with a Pestle Husband,
Let him kill a Lion with a Pestle.

Cit. So he shall,
I'll have him kill a Lion with a pestle.

Wife. Husband,
Shall I come up Husband?

Cit. I Cony.
Ralph, help your Mistriss this way:
Pray Gentlemen make her a little room,
I pray you sir
Lend me your hand to help up my Wife:
I thank you sir.
So.

Wife. By your leave Gentlemen all,
I'm something troublesome,
I'm a stranger here,
I was ne'r at one of these Plays, [a]s they say, before;
But I should have seen Jane Shore once,
And my Husband
Hath promised me any time this Twelvemonth,
To carrie me to the Bold Beauchams,
But in truth he did not;
I pray you bear with me.

Cit. Boy,
Let my Wife and I have a couple of stools,
And then begin,
And let the Grocer do rare things.

Pro. But sir,
We have never a Boy to play him,
Every one hath a part already.

Wife. Husband, Husband,
For gods sake let Ralph play him,
Beshrew me if I do not think
He will go beyond them all.

Cit. Well remembred wife,
Come up Ralph,
I'll tell you Gentlemen,
Let them but lend him a suit of reparrel,
and necessaries,
And by gad,
If any of them all blow wind in the tail on him,
I'll be hang'd.

Wife. I pray you youth,
Let him have a suit of reparrel,
I'll be sworn Gentlemen,
My Husband tells you true,
He will act you sometimes at our house,
That all the neighbors cry out on him:
He will fetch you up a couraging part so in the Garret,
That we are all as fear'd I warrant you,
That we quake again:
We'll fear our children with him,
If they be never so unruly,
Do but cry,
Ralph comes, Ralph comes to them,
And they'll be as quiet as Lambs.
Hold up thy head Ralph,
Shew the Gentlemen what thou canst do,
Speak a huffing part,
I warrant you the Gentlemen will accept of it.

Cit. Do Ralph, do.

Ralph. By heaven
(Methinks) it were an easie leap
To pluck bright honor from the pale-fac'd Moon,
Or dive into the bottom of the Sea,
Where never fathome line toucht any ground,
And pluck up drowned honor
From the lake of Hell.

Cit. How say you Gentlemen,
Is it not as I told you?

Wife. Nay Gentlemen,
He hath plaid before, my husband says, Musidorus
Before the Wardens of our company.

Cit. I, and he should have plaid Jeronimo
With a shoo-maker for a wager.

Pro. He shall have a suit of apparel,
If he will go in.

Cit. In Ralph, in Ralph,
And set out the Grocer[y] in their kind,
If thou lov'st me.

Wife. I warrant our Ralph will look finely,
When he's drest.

Pro. But what will you have it call'd?

Cit. The Grocers Honor.

Pro. Methinks The Knight of the brning Pestle were better.

Wife. I'll be sworn Husband.
That's as good a name as can be.

Cit. Let it be so, begin, begin;
My Wife and I will sit down.

Pro. I pray you do.

Cit. What stately Musick have you?
You have Shawnes.

Pro. Shawns? no.

Cit. No?
I'm a thief if my mind did not give me so.
Ralph plaies a stately part,
And he must needs have Shawns:
I'll be at the charge of them my self,
Rather than we'll be without them.

Pro. So you are like to be.

Cit. Why and so I will be,
There's two shillings,
Let's have the Waits of Southwark,
They are as rare fellows as any are in England;
And that will fetch them all o'r the water, with a vengeance,
As if they were mad.

Pro. You shall have them:
Will you sit down then?

Cit. I, come Wife.

Wife. Sit you merry all Gentlemen,
I'm bold to sit amongst you for my ease.

Pro. From all that's near the Court,
From all that's great
Within the compass of the City walls,
We now have brought our Scæne:
Flie far from hence
All private taxes, immodest phrases,
What e'r may but shew like vicious:
For wicked mirth never true pleasure brings,
But honest minds are pleas'd with honest things.
Thus much for that we do:
But for Ralphs part
You must answer for your self.

Cit. Take you no care for Ralph,
He'll discharge himself I warrant you.

Wife. I'faith Gentlemen,
I'll give [my] word for Ralph.

Actus Primus. Scæna Prima.

Enter Merchant and Jasper his Man.

Merch. Sirrah, I'll make you know you are my Prentice,
And whom my charitable love redeem'd
Even from the fall of fortune; gave thee heat
And growth, to be what now thou art, new cast thee,
Adding the trust of all I have at home,
In forreign Staples, or upon the Sea
To thy direction, ti'de the good opinions
Both of [my]self and friends to thy endeavors,
So fair were thy beginnings: but with these
As I remember you had never charge,
To love your Masters Daughter, and even then,
When I had found a wealthy Husband for her,
I take it, Sir, you had not: but however,
I'll break the neck of that Commission,
And make you know you are but a Merchants Factor.

Jasp. Sir,
I do liberally confess I am yours,
Bound both by love and duty to your service;
In which my labor hath been all my profit;
I have not lost in bargain, nor delighted
To wear your honest gains upon my back,
Nor have I given a pension to my bloud,
Or lavishly in play consum'd your stock.
These, and the miseries that do attend them,
I dare with innocence, proclaim are strangers
To all my temperate actions: for your Daughter,
If there be any love to my deservings,
Born by her virtuous self, I cannot stop it:
Nor am I able to refrain her wishes.
She's private to her self, and best of knowledge,
Whom she'll make so happy as to sigh for.
Besides, I cannot think you mean to match her,
Unto a fellow of so lame a presence,
One that hath little left of Nature in him.

Mer. 'Tis very well, Sir, I can tell your wisdom
How all this shall be cur'd.

Jasp. Your care becomes you.

Merc. And thus it shall be, Sir, I here discharge you,
My house, and service, take your liberty,
And when I want a Son I'll send for you. [Exit.

Jasp. These be the fair rewards of them that love,
Oh you that live in freedom never prove
The travel of a mind led by desire.

Enter Luce.

Luce. Why how now friend, struck with my Fathers thunder?

Jasp. Struck, and struck dead, unless the remedy
Be full of speed and virtue; I am now,
What I expected long, no more your father's.

Luce. But mine.

Jasp. But yours, and only yours I am,
That's all I have to keep me from the statute:
You dare be constant still?

Luce. O fear me not.
In this I dare be better than a woman.
Nor shall his anger, nor his offers move me,
Were they both equal to a Princes power.

Jasp. You know my Rival?

Luce. Yes, and love him dearly,
Even as I love an ague, or foul weather,
I prethee Jasper fear him not.

Jasp. Oh no,
I do not mean to do him so much kindness,
But to our own desires you know the plot
We both agreed on.

Luce. Yes, and will perform
My part exactly.

Jasp. I desire no more,
Farewel, and keep my heart, 'tis yours.

Luce. I take it,
He must do miracles,
Makes me forsake it. [Exeunt.

Cit. Fie upon 'em little infidels,
What a matter's here now?
Well, I'll be hang'd for a half-penny,
If there be not some abomination knavery in this Play,
Well, let 'em look to't,
Ralph must come,
And if there be any tricks a brewing—

Wife. Let 'em brew and bake too Husband, a gods name,
Ralph will find all out I warrant you,
And they were older than they are.
I pray my pretty youth, is Ralph ready?

Boy. He will be presently.

Wife. Now I pray you make my commendations unto him,
And withal, carry him this stick of Licoras,
Tell him his Mistriss sent it him,
And bid him bite apiece,
'Twill open his pipes the better, say.

Enter Merchant, and Master Humphrey.

Mer. Come, Sir, she's yours, upon my faith she's yours,
You have my hand, for other idle letts
Between your hopes and her, thus, with a wind,
They are scattered, and no more: my wanton Prentice,
That like a bladder blew himself with love,
I have lett out, and sent him to discover
New masters yet unknown.

Humph. I thank you Sir,
Indeed I thank you, Sir, and e'r I stir,
It shall be known however you do deem,
I am of gentle blood and gentle seem.

Mer. Oh Sir, I know it certain.

Hum. Sir, my friend,
Although as Writers say, all things have end,
And that we call a Pudding, hath his two,
Oh let it not seem strange I pray to you,
If in this bloudy simile, I put
My love, more endless, than frail things or gut.

Wife. Husband,
I prethee sweet lamb tell me one thing,
But tell me truly:
Stay youths I beseech you,
Till I question my Husband.

Cit. What is it Mouse?

Wife. Sirrah,
Didst thou ever see a prettier child?
How it behaves it self, I warrant ye:
And speaks and looks, and pearts up the head?
I pray you brother with your favour,
Were you never none of Mr. Moncasters Scholars?

Cit. Chickin,
I prethee heartily contain thy self,
The childer are pretty childer,
But when Ralph comes, Lamb.

Wife. I when Ralph comes, Conie,
Well my youth you may proceed.

M[e]r. Well Sir, you know my love, and rest, I hope
Assur'd of my consent; get but my daughters,
And wed her when you please: you must be bold,
And clap in close unto her, come, I know
You have language good enough to win a wench.

Wife. A whoresone tyrant,
Hath been an old stringer in his days,
I warrant him.

Hum. I take your gentle offer, and withal
Yield love again for love reciprocal.

Enter Luce.

M[e]r. What Luce, within there?

Luce. Call'd you Sir?

Mer. I did
Give entertainment to this Gentleman,
And see you be not froward: to her, Sir:
My presence will but be an eye-soar to you. [Exit.

Hum. Fair Mistriss Luce, how do you, are you well?
Give me your hand, and then I pray you tell,
How doth your little Sister, and your Brother?
And whether you love me or any other.

Luce. Sir, these are quickly answer'd.

Hum. So they are,
Where Women are not cruel: but how far
Is it now distant from the place we are in,
Unto that blessed place your Fathers Warren.

Luce. What makes you think of that, Sir?

Hum. Even that face,
For stealing Rabbets whilome in that place,
God Cupid, or the Keeper, I know not whether,
Unto my cost and charges brought you thither,
And there began.

Lu[ce]. Your game, Sir.

Hum. Let no game,
Or any thing that tendeth to the same,
Be evermore remembred, thou fair killer
For whom I sate me down and brake my Tiller.

Wife. There's a kind Gentleman, I warrant you, when will you do as much for me George?

Luce. Beshrew me Sir, I am sorry for your losses,
But as the proverb says, I cannot cry,
I would you had not seen me.

Hum. So would I.
Unless you had more maw to do me good.

Luce. Why, cannot this strange passion be withstood,
Send for a Constable and raise the Town.

Hum. Oh no, my valiant love will batter down
Millions of Constables, and put to flight,
Even that great Watch of Midsummer day at night.

Luce. Beshrew me, Sir, 'twere good I yielded then,
Weak Women cannot hope, where valiant men
Have no resistance.

Hum. Yield then, I am full
Of pity, though I say it, and can pull
Out of my pocket thus a pair of Gloves.
Look Lucy, look, the dogs tooth, nor the Doves
Are not so white as these; and sweet they be,
And whipt about with silk, as you may see:
If you desire the price, sute from your eye,
A beam to this place, and you shall espie
F. S. which is to say my sweetest Honey,
They cost me three and two pence, or no money.

Luce. Well Sir, I take them kindly, and I thank you;
What would you more?

Hum. Nothing.

Lu. Why then farewel.

Hum. Nor so, nor so, for Lady I must tell,
Before we part, for what we met together,
God grant me time, and patience, and fair weather.

Luce. Speak and declare your mind in terms so brief.

Hum. I shall; then first and foremost for relief
I call to you, if that you can afford it,
I care not at what price, for on my word, it
Shall be repaid again, although it cost me
More than I'll speak of now, for love hath tost me
In furious blanket like a Tennis-ball,
And now I rise aloft, and now I fall.

Luce. Alas good Gentleman, alas the day.

Hum. I thank you heartily, and as I say,
Thus do I still continue without rest,
I' th' morning like a man, at night a beast,
Roaring and bellowing mine own disquiet,
That much I fear, forsaking of my diet,
Will bring me presently to that quandary,
I shall bid all adieu.

Lu. Now by S. Mary
That were great pity.

Hum. So it were beshrew me,
Then ease me lusty Luce, and pity shew me.

Luce. Why Sir, you know my will is nothing worth
Without my Fathers grant, get his consent,
And then you may with assurance try me.

Hum. The Worshipful your Sire will not deny me,
For I have ask'd him, and he hath reply'd,
Sweet Master Humphrey, Luce shall be thy Bride.

Luce. Sweet Master Humphrey then I am content.

Hum. And so am I in truth.

Lu. Yet take me with you,
There is another clause must be annext,
And this it is I swore, and will perform it,
No man shall ever joy me as his wife,
But he that stole me hence: if you dare venture,
I am yours; you need not fear, my father loves you:
If not, farewel for ever.

Hum. Stay Nymph, stay,
I have a double Gelding coloured bay,
Sprung by his Father from Barbarian kind,
Another for my self, though somewhat blind,
Yet true as trusty tree.

Luce. I am satisfied,
And so I give my hand, our course must lie
Through Waltham Forrest, where I have a friend
Will entertain us, so farewel Sir Humphrey. [Exit Luce.
And think upon your business.

Hum. Though I die,
I am resolv'd to venture life and lim,
For one so young, so fair, so kind, so trim. [Exit Hum.

Wife. By my faith and troth George, and as I am virtuous, it is e'n the kindest young man that ever trode on shooe-leather: well, go thy waies, if thou hast her not, 'tis not thy fault 'ifaith.

Cit. I prethee Mouse be patient, a shall have her, or I'll make some of 'em smoak for't.

Wife. Thats my good lamb George, fie, this stinking Tobacco kills men, would there were none in England: now I pray Gentlemen, what good does this stinking Tobacco do you? nothing; I warrant you make chimneys a your faces: Oh Husband, Husband, now, now there's Ralph, there's Ralph.

Enter Ralph, like a Groc[e]r in's shop, with two Prentices, reading Palmerin of England.

Cit. Peace fool, let Ralph alone, hark you Ralph; do not strain your self too much at the first, peace, begin Ralph.

Ralph. Then Palmerin and Trineus snatching their Lances from their Dwarfs, and clasping their Helmets, gallopt amain after the Giant, and Palmerin having gotten a sight of him, came posting amain, saying, Stay traiterous thief, for thou maist not so carry away her, that is worth the greatest Lord in the World, and with these words gave him a blow on the Shoulder, that he struck him besides his Elephant; and Trineus coming to the Knight that had Agricola behind him, set him soon besides his horse, with his neck broken in the fall, so that the Princess getting out of the throng, between joy and grief said: All happy Knight, the mirror of all such as follow Arms, now may I be well assured of the love thou bearest me, I wonder why the Kings do not raise an Army of fourteen or fifteen hundred thousand men, as big as the Army that the Prince of Portigo brought against Rocicler, and destroy these Giants, they do much hurt to wandring Damsels, that go in quest of their Knights.

Wife. Faith Husband, and Ralph says true, for they say the King of Portugal cannot sit at his meat, but the Giants and the Ettins will come and snatch it from him.

Cit. Hold thy tongue; on Ralph.

Ralph. And certainly those Knights are much to be commended, who neglecting their possessions, wander with a Squire and a Dwarfe through the Desarts, to relieve poor Ladies.

Wife. I by my faith are they Ralph, let 'em say what they will, they are indeed: our Knights neglect their possessions well enough, but they do not the rest.

Ralph. There are no such courteous, and fair well-spoken Knights in this age, they will call one the Son of a whore, that Palmerin of England, would have called fair Sir; and one that Rosicler would have called Right beaut[eous] Damsel, they will call Damn'd bitch.

Wife. I'll be sworn will they Ralph, they have called me so an hundred times about a scurvy pipe of Tobacco.

Ralph. But what brave spirit could be content to sit in his shop with a flapet of Wood, and a blew Apron before him selling Methridatam and Dragons water to visited houses, that might pursue feats of Arms, and through his noble atchievements, procure such a famous History to be written [of his] Heroick prowesse.

Cit. Well said Ralph, some more of those words Ralph.

Wife. They go finely by my troth.

Ralph. Why should [not I] then pursue this course, both for the credit of my self and our company, for amongst all the worthy Books of Atchievements, I do not call to mind, that I yet read of a Grocer Errant. I will be the said Knight: Have you heard of any that hath wandred unfurnished of his Squire and Dwarfe? my elder Prentice Tm shall be my trusty Squire, and little George my Dwarfe, hence my blew Apron, yet in remembrance of my former Trade, upon my shield shall be pourtraid a Burning Pestle, and I will be call'd the Knight of the burning Pestle.

Wife. Nay, I dare swear thou wilt not forget thy old Trade, thou wert ever meek.

Ralph. Tim.

Tim. Anon.

Ralph. My beloved Squire, and George my Dwarfe, I charge you that from henceforth you never call me by any other name, but the Right courteous and valiant Knight of the Burning Pestle, and that you never call any Female by the name of a Woman or Wench, but fair Lady, if she have her desires; if not, distressed Damsel; that you call all Forrests and Heaths, Desarts, and all Horses Palfries.

Wife. This is very fine: faith do the Gentlemen like Ralph, think you Husband?

Cit. I, I warrant thee, the Players would give all the shooes in their shop for him.

Ralph. My beloved Squire Tim, stand out, admit this were a Desart, and over it a Knight Errant pricking, and I should bid you enquire of his intents, what would you say?

Tim. Sir, my Master sent me to know whither you are riding?

Ralph. No, thus; fair Sir, the Right courteous, and valiant Knight of the Burning Pestle, commanded me to enquire upon what adventure you are bound, whether to relieve some distressed Damsel, or otherwise.

Cit. Whorson blockhead cannot remember.

Wife. I'faith, and Ralph told him on't before: all the Gentlemen heard him, did he not Gentlemen, did not Ralph tell him on't?

George. Right courteous and valiant Knight of the Burning Pestle, here is a distressed Damsel, to have a halfepenny worth of Pepper.

Wife. That's a good boy, see, the little boy can hit it, by my troth it's a fine child.

Ralph. Relieve her with all courteous language, now shut up shop, no more my Prentice, but my trusty Squire and Dwarfe, I must bespeak my Shield, and arming Pestle.

Cit. Go thy ways Ralph, as I am a true man, thou art the best on 'em all.

Wife. Ralph, Ralph.

Ralph. What say you Mistriss?

Wife. I prethee come again quickly, sweet Ralph.

Ralph. By and by. [Exit Ralph.

Enter Jasper and his Mother, Mistriss Merry-thought.

Mist. Mer. Give thee my blessing? no, I'll never give thee my blessing, I'll see thee hang'd first; it shall ne'r be said I gave thee my blessing: thou art thy Fathers own Son, of the [right] bloud of the Merry-thoughts; I may curse the time that e'r I knew thy Father, he hath spent all his own, and mine too, and when I tell him of it, he laughs and dances, and sings and cries; A merry heart lives long-a. And thou art a wast-thrift, and art run away from thy Master, that lov'd thee well, and art come to me, and I have laid up a little for my younger Son Michael, and thou thinkst to bezle that, but thou shalt never be able to do it, Come hither Michael, come Michael, down on thy knees, thou shalt have my blessing.

Enter Michael.

Mich. I pray you Mother pray to God to bless me.

Mist. Mer. God bless thee: but Jasper shall never have my blessing, he shall be hang'd first, shall he not Michael? how saist thou?

Mich. Yes forsooth Mother and grace of God.

Mist. Mer. That's a good boy.

Wife. I'faith it's a fine spoken child.

Jasp. Mother, though you forget a Parents love,
I must preserve the duty of a child:
I ran not from my Master, nor return
To have your stock maintain my idleness.

Wife. Ungracious child I warrant him, harke how he chops Logick with his Mother: thou hadst best tell her she lies, do, tell her she lies.

Cit. If he were my son, I would hang him up by the heels, and flea him, and salt him, whorson halter-sack.

Jasp. My coming only is to beg your love,
Which I [must] ever though I never gain it,
And howsoever you esteem of me,
There is no drop of bloud hid in these veins,
But I remember well belongs to you,
That brought me forth; and would be glad for you
To rip them all again, and let it out.

Mist. Mer. I'faith I had sorrow enough for thee: (God knows) but I'll hamper thee well enough: get thee in thou vagabond, get thee in, and learn of thy brother Michael.

Old Mer. within. Nose, Nose, jolly red Nose, and who gave thee this jolly red Nose?

Mist. Mer. Hark my Husband he's singing and hoiting,
And I'm fain to cark and care, and all little enough.
Husband, Charles, Charles Merry-thought.

Enter Old Merry-thought.

Old Mer. Nutmegs and Ginger, Cinamon and Cloves,
And they gave me this jolly red Nose.

Mist. Mer. If you would consider your estate, you would have little list to sing, I-wisse.

Old Mer. It should never be consider'd, while it were an estate, if I thought it would spoil my singing.

Mist. Mer. But how wilt thou do Charles, thou art an old man, and thou canst not work, and thou hast not forty shillings left, and thou eatest good meat, and drinkest good drink, and laughest?

Old Mer. And will doe.

Mist. Mer. But how wilt thou come by it Charles?

Old Mer. How? why how have I done hitherto these forty years? I never came into my Dining-room, but at eleven and six a clock, I found excellent meat and drink a'th' Table: my Cloaths were never worn out, but next morning a Tailor brought me a new suit; and without question it will be so ever! Use makes perfectness. If all should fail, it is but a little straining my self extraordinary, and laugh my self to death.

Wife. It's a foolish old man this: is not he George?

Cit. Yes Cunny.

Wife. Give me a penny i'th' purse while I live George.

Cit. I by Lady Cunnie, hold thee there.

Mist. Mer. Well Charles, you promis'd to provide for Jasper, and I have laid up for Michael: I pray you pay Jasper his portion, he's come home, and he shall not consume Michaels stock: he saies his Master turn'd him away, but I promise you truly, I think he ran away.

Wife. No indeed Mistriss Merry-thought, though he be a notable gallows, yet I'll assure you his Master did turn him away, even in this place, 'twas i'faith within this half hour, about his Daughter, my Husband was by.

Cit. Hang him rogue, he serv'd him well enough: love his Masters Daughter! by my troth Cunnie, if there were a thousand boys, thou wouldst spoil them all, with taking their parts; let his Mother alone with him.

Wife. I George, but yet truth is truth.

Old. Mer. Where is Jasper? he's welcome however, call him in, he shall have his portion, is he merry?

Enter Jasper and Michael.

Mist. Mer. I foul chive him, he is too merry. Jasper. Michael.

Old Mer. Welcome Jasper, though thou run'st away, welcome, God bless thee, 'tis thy mothers mind thou shouldst receive thy portion: thou hast been abroad, and I hope hast learnt experience enough to govern it: thou art of sufficient years, hold thy hand: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, there is ten shillings for thee, thrust thy self into the world with that, and take some setled course, if fortune cross thee, thou hast a retiring place; come home to me, I have twenty shillings left, be a good Husband, that is, wear ordinary Cloaths, eat the best meat, and drink the best drink; be merry, and give to the poor, [and] believe me, thou hast no end of thy goods.

Jasp. Long may you live free from all thought of ill,
And long have cause to be thus merry still.
But Father?

Old Mer. No more words Jasper, get thee gone, thou hast my blessing, thy Fathers spirit upon thee. Farewel Jasper; but yet, or e'r you part (oh cruel) kiss me, kiss me sweeting, mine own dear jewel: So, now begone; no words.

[Exit Jasper.

Mist. Mer. So Michael, now get thee gone too.

Mich. Yes forsooth Mother, but I'll have my Father's blessing first.

Mist. Mer. No Michael, 'tis no matter for his blessing; thou hast my blessing, begone; I'll fetch my money and jewels, and follow thee: I'll stay no longer with him I warrant thee; truly Charles I'll begon too.

[Old Mer. What you will not?]

Mist. Mer. Yes indeed will I.

Old Mer. Hay ho, farewel Nan, I'll never trust wench more again, if I can.

Mist. Mer. You shall not think (when all your own is gone) to spend that I have been scraping up for Michael.

Old Mer. Farewel good wife, I expect it not; all I have to do in this world, is to be merry: which I shall, if the ground be not taken from me: and if it be,

When Earth and Seas from me are reft,
The Skies aloft for me are left. [Exeunt.

[Boy danceth, Musick.

Finis Actus Primi.

Wife. I'll be sworn he's a merry old Gentleman for all that: Hark, hark Husband, hark, Fiddles, Fiddles; now surely they go finely. They say 'tis present death for these Fidlers to tune their Rebecks before the great Turks grace, is't not George? But look, look, here's a youth dances: now good youth do a turn o'th' toe; Sweet-heart, i'faith I'll have Ralph come, and do some of his Gambols; he'll ride the Wild Mare Gentlemen, 'twould do your hearts good to see him: I thank you kind youth, pray bid Ralph come.

Cit. Peace Connie. Sirrah, you scurvy boy, bid the Players send Ralph, or by gods —— and they do not, I'll tear some of their Periwigs beside their heads: this is all Riff-Raff.

Actus Secundus. Scæna Prima.

Enter Merchant and Humphrey.

Merch. And how faith? how goes it now Son Humphrey?

Hum. Right worshipful and my beloved friend
And Father dear, this matter's at an end.

Merch. 'Tis well, it should be so, I'm glad the Girl
Is found so tractable.

Hum. Nay, she must whirl
From hence, and you must wink: for so I say,
The story tells to morrow before day.

Wife. George, dost thou think in thy conscience now 'twill be a match? tell me but what thou think'st sweet Rogue, thou seest the poor Gentleman (dear heart) how it labours and throbs I warrant you, to be at rest: I'll go move the Father for't.

Cit. No, no, I prethee sit still Honey-suckle, thou'lt spoil all; if he deny him, I'll bring half a dozen good fellows my self, and in the shutting of an evening knock't up, and there's an end.

Wife. I'll buss thee for that I'faith boy; well George, well you have been a wag in your days I warrant you: but God forgive you, and I do with all my heart.

Mer. How was it Son? you told me that to morrow
Before day break, you must convey her hence.

Hum. I must, I must, and thus it is agreed,
Your Daughter rides upon a brown-bay Steed,
I on a Sorrel, which I bought of Brian,
The honest Host of the red roaring Lion
In Waltham situate: then if you may,
Consent in seemly sort, lest by delay,
The fatal Sisters come, and do the office,
And then you'll sing another Song.

Merch. Alas.
Why should you be thus full of grief to me,
That do as willing as your self agree
To any thing so it be good and fair?
Then steal her when you will, if such a pleasure
Content you both, I'll sleep and never see it,
To make your joys more full: but tell me why
You may not here perform your marriage?

Wife. Gods blessing o'thy soul, old man, i'faith thou art loth to part true hearts: I see a has her, George, and I'm as glad on't; well, go thy ways Humphrey for London, and I should say the Suburbs too, I should not lie: why dost not thou rejoyce with me George?

Cit. If I could but see Ralph again, I were as merry as mine Host i'faith.

[Hum.] The cause you seem to ask, I thus declare;
 Help me oh Muses nine, your Daughter sware
A foolish oath, the more it was the pity:
Yet none but my self within this City
Shall dare to say so, but a bold defiance
Shall meet him, were he of the noble Science.
And yet she sware, and yet why did she swear?
Truly I cannot tell, unless it were
For her own ease: for sure sometimes an oath,
Being sworn thereafter, is like cordial broth.
And this it was, she swore never to marry,
But such a one whose mighty arm could carry
(As meaning me, for I am such a one)
Her bodily away through stick and stone,
Till both of us arrive at her request,
Some ten miles off in the wide Waltham Forrest.

Merch. If this be all, you shall not need to fear
Any denial in your love, proceed,
I'll neither follow, nor repent the deed.

Hum. Good night, twenty good nights, and twenty more,
And twenty more good nights, that makes threescore. [Exeunt.

Enter Mistriss Merry-thought, and her Son Michael.

Mist. Mer. Come Michael, art thou not weary Boy?

Mich. No forsooth Mother not I.

Mist. Mer. Where be we now child?

Mich. Indeed forsooth Mother I cannot tell, unless we be at Mile-end, is not all the world Mile-end, Mother?

Mist. Mer. No Michael, not all the world boy; but I can assure thee Michael, Mile-end is a goodly matter, there has been a pitcht field my child, between the naughty Spaniels, and the Englishmen, and the Spaniels ran away Michael, and the Englishmen followed: my neighbor Coxstone was there boy, and kill'd them all with a birding-piece.

Mich. Mother forsooth.

Mist. Mer. What says my white boy?

Mich. Shall not my Father go with us too?

Mist. Mer. No Michael, let thy Father go snick up, he shall never come between a pair of sheets with me again, while he lives: let him stay at home and sing for his supper boy; come child sit down, and I'll shew my boy fine knacks indeed, look here Michael, here's a Ring, and here's a Bruch, and here's a Bracelet, and here's two Rings more, and here's Money, and Gold by th' eye my boy.

Mich. Shall I have all this Mother?

Mist. Mer. I Michael thou shalt have all Michael.

Cit. How lik'st thou this wench?

Wife. I cannot tell, I would have Ralph, George; I'll see no more else indeed-law, and I pray you let the youths understand so much by word of mouth, for I will tell you truly, I'm afraid o' my boy: come, come George, let's be merry and wise, the child's a fatherless child, and say they should put him into a strait pair of Gaskins, 'twere worse than knot-grass, he would never grow after it.

Enter Ralph, Squire, and Dwarfe.

Cit. Here's Ralph, here's Ralph.

Wife. How do you Ralph? you are welcome Ralph, as I may say, it' a good boy, hold up thy head, and be not afraid, we are thy friends, Ralph, the Gentlemen will praise thee Ralph, if thou plai'st thy part with audacity, begin Ralph a Gods name.

Ralph. My trusty Squire unlace my Helme, give me my hat, where are we, or what desart might this be?

Dw. Mirror of Knig[h]thood, this is, as I take it, the perilous Waltham Down; in whose bottom stands the inchanted Valley.

Mist. Mer. Oh Michael, we are betraid, we are betraid, here be Giants, flie boy, flie boy flie.

[Exeunt Mother and Michael.

Ralph. Lace on my Helme again: what noise is this?
A gentle Lady flying the embrace
Of some uncourteous Knight, I will relieve her.
Go Squire, and say, the Knight that wears this Pestle
In honour of all Ladies swears revenge
Upon that recreant Coward that pursues her,
Goe comfort her, and that same gentle Squire
That bears her company.

Squ. I go brave Knight.

Ralph. My trusty Dwarf and friend, reach me my shield,
And hold it while I swear, first by my Knighthood,
Then by the soul of Amadis de Gaule,
My famous Ancestor, then by my Sword,
The beauteous Brionella girt about me,
By this bright burning Pestle of mine honor,
The living Trophie, and by all respect
Due to distressed Damsels, here I vow
Never to end the quest of this fair Lady,
And that forsaken Squire, till by my valour
I gain their liberty.

Dw. Heaven bless the Knight
That thus relieves poor errant Gentlewomen. [Exit.

Wife. I marry Ralph, this has some savour in't, I would see the proudest of them all offer to carry his Books after him. But George, I will not have him go away so soon, I shall be sick if he go away, that I shall; call Ralph again George, call Ralph again, I prethee sweetheart let him come fight before me, and let's ha some Drums, and Trumpets, and let him kill all that comes near him, and thou lov'st me George.

Cit. Peace a little bird, he shall kill them all, and they were twenty more on 'em then there are.

Enter Jasper.

Jasp. Now fortune, if thou be'st not only ill,
Shew me thy better face, and bring about
Thy desperate wheel, that I may climb at length
And stand, this is our place of meeting,
If love have any constancy. Oh age!
Where only wealthy men are counted happy:
How shall I please thee? how deserve thy smiles?
When I am only rich in misery?
My fathers blessing, and this little coin
Is my inheritance, a strong revenue,
From earth thou art, and to [the] earth I give thee,
There grow and multiply, whilst fresher air [Spies the
Breeds me a fresher fortune: how, illusion! [Casket.
What hath the Devil coyn'd himself before me?
'Tis mettle good, it rings well, I am waking,
And taking too I hope, now Gods dear blessing
Upon his heart that left it here, 'tis mine,
These pearls, I take it, were not left for Swine. [Exit.

Wife. I do not like that this unthrifty youth should embesil away the money, the poor Gentlewoman his mother will have a heavy heart for it, God knows.

Cit. And reason good, sweet heart.

Wif[e]. But let him go, I'll tell Ralph a tale in's ear, shall fetch him again with a wanion, I warrant him, if he be above ground; and besides George, here be a number of sufficient Gentlemen can witness, and my self, and your self, and the Musicians, if we be call'd in question, but here comes Ralph, George, thou shalt hear him speak, as he were an Emperal.

Enter Ralph and Dwarfe.

Ralph. Comes not Sir Squire again?

Dwarf. Right courteous Knight,
Your Squire doth come, and with him comes the Lady.

Enter Mistriss Mer. and Michael, and Squire.

For and the Squire of Damsels as I take it.

Rafe. Madam, if any service or devoir
Of a poor errant Knight may right your wrongs,
Command it, I am prest to give you succor,
For to that holy end I bear my Armour.

Mist. Mer. Alas, Sir, I am a poor Gentlewoman, and I have lost my money in this Forrest.

[Ralph.] Desart, you would say, Lady, and not lost
Whilst I have Sword and Launce, dry up your tears
Which ill befits the beauty of that face:
And tell the story, if I may request it,
Of your disastrous fortune.

Mist. Mer. Out alas, I left a thousand pound, a thousand pound, e'n all the money I had laid up for this youth, upon the sight of your Mastership, you lookt so grim, and as I may say it, saving your presence, more like a Giant than a mortal man.

Ralph. I am as you are, Lady, so are they
All mortal, but why weeps this gentle Squire?

Mist. Mer. Has he not cause to weep do you think, when he has lost his inheritance?

Ralph. Young hope of valour, weep not, I am here
That will confound thy foe, and pay it dear
Upon his coward head, that dare denie,
Distressed Squires, and Ladies equity.
I have but one horse, on which shall ride
This Lady fair behind me, and before
This courteous Squire, fortune will give us more
Upon our next adventure; fairly speed
Beside us Squire a[n]d Dwarfe to do us need. [Exeunt.

Cit. Did not I tell you Nell what your man would do? by the faith of my body wench, for clean action and good delivery, they may all cast their caps at him.

Wife. And so they may i'faith, for I dare speak it boldly, the twelve Companies of London cannot match him, timber for timber: well George, and he be not inveigled by some of these paltery Players, I ha much marvel: but George we ha done our parts, if the Boy have any grace to be thankful.

Cit. Yes, I warrant you duckling.

Enter Humphrey and Luce.

Hum. Good Mistriss Luce, how ever I in fault am,
For your lame horse; you're welcome unto Waltham.
But which way now to go, or what to say
I know not truly till it be broad day.

Luce. O fear not master Humphrey, I am guide
For this place good enough.

Hum. Then up and ride,
Or if it please you, walk for your repose,
Or sit, or if you will, go pluck a Rose:
Either of which shall be indifferent,
To your good friend and Humphrey, whose consent
Is so intangled ever to your will,
As the poor harmless horse is to the [M]ill.

Luce. Faith and you say the word, we'll e'n sit down,
And take a nap.

Hum. 'Tis better in the Town,
Where we may nap together: for believe me,
To sleep without a snatch would mickle grieve me.

Luce. You're merry master Humphrey.

Hum. So I am,
And have been ever merry from my Dam.

Luce. Your Nurse had the less labour.

Hum. Faith it may be,
Unless it were by chance I did beray me.

Enter Jasper.

Jasp. Luce, dear friend Luce.

Luce. Here Jasper.

Jasp. You are mine.

Hum. If it be so, my friend, you use me fine:
What do you think I am?

Jasp. An arrant Noddy.

Hum. A word of obloquie: now by gods body,
I'll tell thy Master, for I know thee well.

Jasp. Nay, and you be so forward for to tell,
Take that, and that, and tell him, Sir, I gave it:
And say I paid you well.

Hum. O Sir I have it,
And do confess the payment, pray be quiet.

Jasp. Go, get you to your night-cap and the diet,
To cure your beaten bones.

Luce. Alas, poor Humphrey,
Get thee some wholsome broth with Sage and Cumfrie:
A little oil of Roses and a Feather
To noint thy back withal.

Hum. When I came hither,
Would I had gone to Paris with John Dorry.

Luce. Farewel my pretty Nump, I am very sorry
I cannot bear thee company.

Hum. Farewel,
The Devils Dam was ne'r so bang'd in Hell. [Exeunt.

[Manet Humphrey.

Wife. This young Jasper will prove me another Things, a my conscience and he may be suffered; George, dost not see George how a swaggers, and flies at the very heads a fokes as he were a Dragon; well if I do not do his lesson for wronging the poor Gentleman, I am no true Woman, his friends that brought him up might have been better occupied, I wis, then have taught him these fegaries: he's e'n in the high-way to the Gallows, God bless him.

Cit. You're too bitter, Connie, the young man may do well enough for all this.

Wife. Come hither master Humphrey, has he hurt you? now beshrew his fingers for't, here Sweet-heart, here's some Green Ginger for thee, now beshrew my heart, but a has Pepper-nel in's head, as big as a Pullets egg: alas, sweet Lamb, how thy Temples beat; take the peace on him sweet heart, take the peace on him.

Enter a Boy.

Cit. No, no, you talk like a foolish woman, I'll ha Ralph fight with him, and swinge him up well-favour'dly: sirrah boy come hither, let Ralph come in and fight with Jasper,

Wife. I and beat him well, he's an unhappy boy.

Boy. Sir, you must pardon us, the plot of our Play lies contrary, and 'twill hazard the spoiling of our Play.

Cit. Plot me no plots, I'll ha Ralph come out, I'll make your house too hot for you else.

Boy. Why Sir, he shall, but if any thing fall out of order, the Gentlemen must pardon us.

Cit. Go your ways good-man boy, I'll hold him a penny he shall have his belly full of fighting now, ho here comes Ralph, no more.

Enter Ralph, Mist. Merry, Michael, Squire, and Dwarf.

Ralph. What Knight is that, Squire, ask him if he keep
The passage bound by love of Lady fair,
Or else but prickant.

Hum. Sir, I am no Knight,
But a poor Gentleman, that this same night,
Had stoln from me on yonder Green,
My lovely Wife, and suffered to be seen
Yet extant on my shoulder such a greeting,
That whilst I live, I shall think of that meeting.

Wife. I Ralph, he beat him unmercifully, Ralph, and thou spar'st him Ralph, I would thou wert hang'd.

Cit. No more, wife, no more.

Ralph. Where is the Caitiff wretch hath done this deed,
Lady, your pardon, that I may proceed
Upon the quest of this injurious Knight.
And thou fair Squire repute me not the worse,
In leaving the great venture of the purse,

Enter Jasper and Luce.

And the rich Casket till some better leisure.

Hum. Here comes the Broker hath purloin'd my treasure.

Ralph. Go, Squire, and tell him I am here,
An Errant Knight at Arms, to crave delivery
Of that fair Lady to her own Knights arms.
If he deny, bid him take choice of ground,
And so defie him.

Squire. From the Knight that bears
The Golden Pestle, I defie thee Knight,
Unless thou make fair restitution
Of that bright Lady.

Jasp. Tell the Knight that sent thee
He is an ass, and I will keep the wench,
And knock his Head-piece.

Ralph. [Knight thou] art but dead,
If thou recall not thy uncourteous terms.

Wife. Break's pate Ralph, break's pate Ralph, soundly.

Jasp. Come Knight, I am ready for you, now your Pestle.

[Snatches away his Pestle.

Shall try what temper, Sir, your Mortar's of:
With that he stood upright in his stirrops,
And gave the Knight of the Calve-skin such a knock,
That he forsook his horse, and down he fell,
And then he leaped upon him, and plucking off his Helmet.

Hum. Nay, and my noble Knight be down so soon,
Though I can scarcely go, I needs must run.

[Exit Humphrey and Ralph.

Wife. Run Ralph, run Ralph, run for thy life boy, Jasper comes, Jasper comes.

Jasp. Come Luce, we must have other Arms for you, Humphrey and Golden Pestle both adieu. [Exeunt.

Wife. Sure the Devil, God bless us, is in this Springald, why George, didst ever see such a fire-drake, I am afraid my boy's miscarried; if he be, though he were Master Merry-thoughts Son a thousand times, if there be any Law in England, I'll make some of them smart for't.

Cit. No, no, I have found out the matter sweet-heart, Jasper is enchanted as sure as we are here, he is enchanted, he could no more have stood in Ralph's hands, than I can stand in my Lord Mayor's: I'll have a Ring to discover all enchantments, and Ralph shall beat him yet: be no more vext, for it shall be so.

Enter Ralph, Squire, Dwarfe, Mistriss Merry-thought, and Michael.

Wife. Oh Husband, here's Ralph again, stay Ralph, let me speak with thee, how dost thou Ralph? art thou not shrewdly hurt? the foul great Lungies laid unmercifully on thee, there's some Sugar-candy for thee, proceed, thou shalt have another bout with him.

Cit. If Ralph had him at the Fencing-School, if he did not make a puppy of him, and drive him up and down the School, he should ne'r come in my shop more.

Mist. Mer. Truly master Knight of the Burning Pestle, I am weary.

Mich. Indeed-law Mother, and I am very hungry.

Ralph. Take comfort gentle Dame, and [you] fair Squire.
For in this Desart there must needs be plac'd
Many strong Castles, held by courteous Knights,
And till I bring you safe to one of those
I swear by this my Order ne'r to leave you.

Wife. Well said Ralph, George, Ralph was ever comfortable, was he not?

Cit. Yes Duck.

Wife. I shall ne'r forget him: when we had lost our child, you know it was straid almost alone, to Puddle-wharfe, and the Cryers were abroad for it, and there it had drown'd it self but for a Sculler, Ralph was the most comfortablest to me: peace Mistriss, saies he, let it go, I'll get you another as good, did he not George? did he not say so?

Cit. Yes indeed did he Mouse.

Dwarfe. I would we had a mess of Pottage, and a pot of Drink, Squire, and were going to bed.

Squire. Why we are at Waltham Towns end, and that's the Bell Inne.

Dwarfe. Take courage valiant Knight, Damsel, and Squire,
I have discovered, not a stones cast off,
An antient Castle held by the old Knight
Of the most holy Order of the Bell,
Who gives to all Knights Errant entertain:
There plenty is of food, and all prepar'd,
By the white hands of his own Lady dear.
He hath three Squires that welcome all his Guests:
The first, High Chamberlain, who will see
Our beds prepar'd, and bring us snowy sheets,
Where never Footman stretch'd his butter'd Hams.
The second height Tapstro, who will see
Our pots full filled, and no froth therein;
The third, a gentle Squire Ostlero height,
Who will our Palfries slick with wisps of straw,
And in the Maunger put them Oats enough,
And never grease their teeth with Candle-snuffe.

Wife. That same Dwarfe's a pretty boy, but the Squire's a grout-nold.

Ralph. Knock at the Gates my Squire, with stately Lance.

Enter Tapster.

Tap. Who's there, you're welcome Gentlemen, will you see a room?

Dwarfe. Right courteous and valiant Knight of the Burning Pestle, This is the Squire Tapstro.

Ralph. Fair Squire Tapstro, I a wandring Knight,
Height of the Burning Pestle in the quest
Of this fair Ladies Casket, and wrought purse,
Losing my self in this vast wilderness,
And to this Castle well by fortune brought,
Where hearing of the goodly entertain
Your Knight of holy Order of the Bell,
Gives to all Damsels, and all Errant Knights,
I thought to knock, and now am bold to enter.

Tapst. An't please you see a chamber, you are very welcome. [Exeunt.

Wife. George, I would have something done, and I cannot tell what it is.

Cit. What is it Nell?

Wife. Why George, shall Ralph beat no body again? prethee sweet-heart let him.

Cit. So he shall Nell, and if I joyn with him, we'll knock them all.

Enter Humphrey and Merchant.

Wife. O George, here's master Humphrey again now, that lost Mistriss Luce, and Mistriss Luce's Father, master Humphrey will do some bodies arrant I warrant him.

Hum. Father, it's true in arms I ne'r shall clasp her,
For she is stoln away by your man Jasper.

Wife. I thought he would tell him.

Mer. Unhappy that I am to lose my child:
Now I begin to think on Jasper's words,
Who oft hath urg'd to me thy foolishness,
Why didst thou let her go, thou lov'st her not,
That wouldst bring home thy life, and not bring her.

Hum. Father forgive me, I shall tell you true,
Look on my shoulders they are black and blue,
Whilst too and fro fair Luce and I were winding,
He came and basted me with a hedge binding.

Mer. Get men and horses straight, we will be there
Within this hour; you know the place again?

Hum. I know the place where he my loins did swaddle,
I'll get six horses, and to each a saddle.

Mer. Mean time I'll go talk with Jaspers Father. [Exeunt.

Wife. George, What wilt thou lay with me now, that Master Humphrey has not Mistriss Luce yet, speak George what wilt thou lay with me?

Cit. No Nell, I warrant thee, Jasper is at Puckeridge with her by this.

Wife. Nay George, you must consider Mistriss Lucies feet are tender, and besides, 'tis dark, and I promise you truly, I do not see how he should get out of Waltham Forrest with her yet.

Cit. Nay Cunny, what wilt thou lay with me that Ralph has her not yet.

Wife. I will not lay against Ralph, Honny, because I have not spoken with him: but look George, peace, here comes the merry old Gentleman again.

Enter old Merry-thought.

Old Mer. When it was grown to dark midnight,
And all were fast asleep,
In came Margarets grimly Ghost,
And stood at William's feet.

I have money, and meat, and drink before hand, till to morrow at noon, why should I be sad? methinks I have halfe a dozen jovial spirits within me, I am three merry men, and three merry men: To what end should any man be sad in this world? give me a man that when he goes to hanging cries troul the black boul to me: and a Woman that will sing a catch in her Travel. I have seen a man come by my door, with a serious face, in a black cloak, without a Hatband, carrying his head as if he lookt for pins in the street. I have lookt out of my window halfe a year after, and have spied that mans head upon London Bridge: 'tis vile, never trust a Tailor that does not sing at his work, his mind is of nothing but filching.

Wife. Mark this George, 'tis worth noting: Godfrey my Tailor, you know never sings, and he had fourteen yards to make this Gown; and I'll be sworn, Mistriss Penistone the Drapers Wife had one made with twelve.

Old Mer. 'Tis mirth that fills the veins with blood,
More than Wine, or Sleep, or Food,
Let each man keep his heart at ease
No man dies of that disease.
He that would his body keep
From diseases, must not weep,
But whoever laughs and sings,
Never [he] his body brings
Into Feavers, Gouts, or Rhumes,
Or lingringly his Lungs consumes:
Or meets with aches in the bone,
Or Catarrhs, or griping Stone:
But contented lives for aye,
The more he laughs, the more he may.

Wife. Look George, how sayst thou by this George? is't not a fine old man? Now Gods blessing a thy sweet lips. When wilt thou be so merry George? Faith thou art the frowningst little thing, when thou art angry, in a Countrey.

Enter Merchant.

Cit. Peace Conny, Thou shalt see him took down too I warrant thee: here's Luce's Father come now.

Old Mer. As you came from Walsingam, from the Holy Land, there met you not with my true love by the way as you came.

Mer. O Master Merry-thought! my Daughters gone,
This mirth becomes you not, my Daughter's gone.

Old Mer. Why an if she be, what care I?
Or let her come, or go, or tarry.

Merch. Mock not my misery, it is your Son,
Whom I have made my own, when all forsook him,
Has stoln my only joy, my child away.

Old Mer. He set her on a milk white Steed, and himself upon a gray,
He never turn'd his face again, but he bore her quite away.

Merch. Unworthy of the kindness I have shewn
To thee, and thine: too late, I well perceive
Thou art consenting to my Daughters loss.

Old Mer. Your Daughter, what a-stirs here wi' y'r daughter? Let her go, think no more on her, but sing loud. If both my sons were on the gallows, I would sing down, down, down: they fall down, and arise they never shall.

Merch. Oh might I behold her once again,
And she once more embrace her aged sire.

Old Mer. Fie, how scurvily this goes: and she once more embrace her aged sire? you'll make a dog on her, will ye; she cares much for her aged sire, I warrant you. She cares not for her Daddy, nor she cares not for her Mammy. For she is, she is, she is[, she is] my Lord of Low-gaves Lassie.

Merch. For this thy scorn I will pursue
That son of thine to death.

Old Mer. Do, and when you ha kill'd him,
Give him flowers i'now Palmer, give him flowers i'now,
Give him red and white, and blue, green, and yellow.

Merch. I'll fetch my Daughter.

Old Mer. I'll hear no more o' your Daughter, it spoils my mirth.

Merch. I say I'll fetch my Daughter.

Old Mer. Was never man for Ladies sake, down, down,
Tormented as I [poore] Sir Guy? de derry down,
For Lucies sake, that Lady bright, down, down,
As ever men beheld with eye? de derry down.

Merch. I'll be reveng'd by heaven. [Exeunt. Finis Act. Secund.

Musick.

Wife. How dost thou like this George?

Cit. Why this is well Cunnie: but if Ralph were hot once: thou shouldst see more.

Wife. The Fidlers go again Husband.

Cit. I Nell, but this is scurvy Musick: I gave the whoreson gallows money, and I think he has not got me the Waits of Southwark, if I hear him not anan, I'll twinge him by the ears.

[You] Musicians play Baloo.

Wife. No good George, let's ha Lachrymæ.

Cit. Why this is it Cunny.

Wife. It's all the better George: now sweet Lamb, what story is that painted upon the cloth? the confutation of Saint Paul?

Cit. No Lamb, that's Ralph and Lucrece.

Wife. Ralph and Lucrece? which Ralph? our Ralph?

Cit. No Mouse, that was a Tartarian.

Wife. A Tartarian? well, I wo'd the Fidlers had done, that we might see our Ralph again.

Actus Tertius. Scæna Prima.

Enter Jasper and Luce.

Jasp. Come my [deere deere], though we have lost our way,
We have not lost our selves: are you not weary
With this nights wandring, broken from your rest?
And frighted with the terror that attends
The darkness of this wild unpeopled place?

Luce. No my best friend, I cannot either fear,
Or entertain a weary thought, whilst you
(The end of all my full desires) stand by me:
Let them that lose their hopes, and live to languish
Amongst the number of forsaken Lovers,
Tell the long weary steps, and number time,
Start at a shadow, and shrink up their bloud,
Whilst I (possest with all content and quiet)
Thus take my pretty love, and thus embrace him.

Jasp. You have caught me Luce, so fast, that whilst I live
I shall become your faithful prisoner:
And wear these chains for ever. Come, sit down,
And rest your body, too too delicate
For these disturbances; so, will you sleep?
Come, do not be more able than you are,
I know you are not skilful in these Watches,
For Women are no Soldiers; be not nice,
But take it, sleep I say.

Luce. I cannot sleep.
Indeed I cannot friend.

Jasp. Why then we'll sing,
And try how that will work upon our sences.

Luce. I'll sing, or say, or any thing but sleep.

Jasp. Come little Mermaid, rob me of my heart
With that inchanting voice.

Luce. You mock me Jasper.

SONG.

Jasp. Tell me (dearest) what is Love?

Luce. 'Tis a lightning from above,
'Tis an Arrow, 'tis a Fire,
'Tis a Boy they call desire.
'Tis a smile
Doth beguile

Jasp. The poor hearts [o]f men that prove,
Tell me more, are Women true?

Luce. Some Love change, and so do you.

Jasp. Are they fair, and never kind?

Luce. Yes, when men turn with the wind.

Jasp. Are they froward?

Luce. Ever toward
Those that love, to love anew.

Jasp. Dissemble it no more, I see the God
Of heavy sleep, lay on his heavy Mace,
Upon your eye-lids.

Luce. I am very heavy.

Jasp. Sleep, sleep, and quiet rest crown thy sweet thoughts:
Keep from her fair blood distempers, startings,
Horrors and fearful shapes: let all her dreams
Be joys, and chaste delights, embraces, wishes,
And such new pleasures as the ravish'd soul
Gives to the sences. So my charms have took.
Keep her you powers divine, whilst I contemplate
Upon the wealth and beauty of her mind.
She is only fair, and constant: only kind,
And only to thee Jasper. Oh my joyes!
Whither will you transport me? let not fulness
Of my poor buried hopes come up together,
And over-charge my spirits; I am weak,
Some say (how ever ill) the Sea and Women
Are govern'd by the Moon, both ebb and flow,
Both full of changes: yet to them that know,
And truly judge, these but opinions are,
And heresies to bring on pleasing War
Between our tempers, that without these were
Both void of after-love, and present fear.
Which are the best of Cupid. O thou child!
Bred from despair, I dare not entertain thee,
Having a love without the faults of Women,
And greater in her perfect goods than men:
Which to make good, and please my self the stronger,
Though certainly I am certain of her love,
I'll try her, that the world and memory
May sing to after-times her constancy.
Luce, Luce, awake.

Luce. Why do you fright me friend,
With those distempered looks? what makes your sword
Drawn in your hand? who hath offended you?
I prethee Jasper sleep, thou art wild with watching.

Jasp. Come make your way to Heaven, and bid the world
(With all the villanies that stick upon it)
Farewell; you're for another life.

Luce. Oh Jasper.
How have my tender years committed evil,
(Especially against the man I love)
Thus to be cropt untimely?

Jasp. Foolish girl,
Canst thou imagine I could love his daughter
That flung me from my fortune into nothing?
Discharged me his service, shut the doors
Upon my poverty, and scorn'd my prayers,
Sending me, like a boat without a mast,
To sink or swim? Come, by this hand you dye,
I must have life and blood to satisfie
Your fathers wrongs.

Wife. Away George, away, raise the Watch at Ludgate, and bring a Mittimus from the Justice for this desperate Villain. Now I charge you Gentlemen, see the Kings peace kept. O my heart what a varlet's this, to offer Man-slaughter upon the harmless Gentlewoman?

Cit. I warrant thee (sweet heart) we'll have him hampered.

Luce. Oh Jasper! be not cruel,
If thou wilt kill me, smile, and do it quickly,
And let not many deaths appear before me.
I am a woman made of fear and love
A weak, weak woman, kill not with thy eyes,
They shoot me through and through. Strike I am ready.
And dying still I love thee.

Enter Merchant, Humphrey, and his Men.

Merch. Where abouts?

Jasp. No more of this, now to my self again.

Hum. There, there he stands with Sword like martial Knight.
Drawn in his hand, therefore beware the fight
You that are wise: for were I good Sir Bevis,
I would not stay his coming, by your leaves.

Merc. Sirrah, restore my daughter.

Jasp. Sirrah, no.

Merch. Upon him then.

Wife. So, down with him, down with him, down with him: cut him i'the leg boyes, cut him i'th' leg.

Merc. Come your ways Minion, I'll provide a Cage for you, you're grown so tame. Horse her away.

Hum. Truly I'm glad your forces have the day.

[Exeunt manet Jasper.

Jasp. They are gone, and I am hurt, my Love is lost,
Never to get again. Oh me unhappy!
Bleed, bleed, and dye, I cannot: Oh my folly!
Thou hast betray'd me, Hope where art thou fled?
Tell me if thou be'st any where remaining.
Shall I but see my love again? Oh no!
She will not dain to look upon her Butcher,
Nor is [it] fit she should; yet I must venter.
Oh chance, or fortune, or what ere thou art
That men adore for powerful, hear my cry,
And let me loving live; or loosing dye. [Exit]

Wife. Is a gone George?

Cit. I conny.

Wife. Marry and let him go (sweet heart) by the faith a my body a has put me into such a fright, that I tremble (as they say) as 'twere an Aspine leaf: look a my little finger George, how it shakes: now in truth every member of my body is the worse for't.

Cit. Come, hug in mine arms sweet Mouse, he shall not fright thee any more: alass mine own dear heart how it quivers.

Enter Mistris Merry-thought, Rafe, Michael, Squire, Dwar[f]e, Host, and a Tapster.

Wife. O Rafe, how dost thou Rafe? how hast thou slept to night? has the Knight us'd thee well?

Cit. Peace Nell, let Rafe alone.

Tapst. Master, the reckoning is not paid.

Rafe. Right courteous Knight, who for the orders sake
Which thou hast tane, hang'st out the holy Bell,
As I this flaming Pestle bear about,
We render thanks to your puissant self,
Your beauteous Lady, and your gentle Squires,
For thus refreshing of our wearied limbs,
Stifned with hard atchievements in wild Desart.

Tapst. Sir, there is twelve shillings to pay.

Rafe. Thou merry Squire Tapstero, thanks to thee,
For comforting our souls with double Jug,
And if adventurous Fortune prick thee forth,
Thou jovial Squire, to follow feats of Arms,
Take heed thou tender every Ladies cause,
Every true Knight, and every Damsel fair
But spill the blood of treacherous Sarazens,
And false inchanters, that with Magick spels,
Have done to death full many a noble Knight.

Host. Thou valiant Knight of the burning Pestle, give ear to me, there is twelve shillings to pay, and as I am a true Knight, I will not bate a penny.

Wife. George, I prethee tell me, must Rafe pay twelve shillings now?

Cit. No, Nel, no, nothing but the old Knight is merry with Rafe.

Wife. O is't nothing else? Rafe will be as merry as he.

Rafe. Sir Knight, this mirth of yours becomes you well,
But to requite this liberal courtesie,
If any of your Squires will follow Arms,
He shall receive from my Heroick hand
A Knig[h]thood, by the virtue of this Pestle.

Host. Fair Knight, I thank you for your noble offer,
Therefore gentle Knight,
Twelve shillings you must pay, or I must cap you.

Wife. Look George, did not I tell thee as much, the Knight of the Bell is in earnest, Rafe shall not be beholding to him, give him his money George, and let him go snick up.

Cit. Cap Rafe? no, hold your hand sir Knight of the Bell, there's your Money, have you any thing to say to Rafe now? cap Rafe?

Wife. I would you should know it, Rafe has friends that will not suffer him to be capt for ten times so much, and ten times to the end of that, now take thy course Rafe.

Mist. mer. Come Michael, thou and I will go home to thy father, he hath enough left to keep us a day or two, and we'll set fellows abroad to cry our Purse and Casket: Shall we Michael?

Mich. I, I pray mother, in truth my feet are full of chilblains with travelling.

Wife. Faith and those chilblaines are a foul trouble, Mistris Merry-thought when your youth comes home, let him rub all the soles of his feet, and his heels, and his ankles, with a Mouseskin; or if none of your [people] can catch a Mouse, when he goes to bed, let him rowl his feet in the warm embers, and I warrant you he shall be well, and you may make him put his fingers between his toes, and smell to them, it's very soveraign for his head, if he be costive.

Mist. mer. Master Knight of the burning Pestle, my son Michael, and I bid you farewell, I thank your Worship hartily for your kindness.

Rafe. Fare-well fair Lady, and your tender Squire.
If pricking through these Desarts, I do hear
Of any traiterous Knight who through his guile,
Hath light upon your Casket and your Purse,
I will despoil him of them and restore them.

Mist. mer. I thank your Worship. [Exit with Michael.

Rafe. Dwarf bear my shield, Squire elevate my lance,
And now farewell you Knight of holy Bell.

Cit. I, I Rafe, all is paid.

Rafe. But yet before I go, speak worthy Knight,
If [ought] you do of sad adventures know,
Where errant Knights may through his prowess win
Eternal fame, and free some gentle souls,
From endless [bonds] of steel and lingring pain.

Host. Sirrah go to Nick the Barber, and bid him prepare himself, as I told you before quickly.

Tap. I am gone Sir. [Exit Tapster.

Host. Sir Knight, this wilderness affordeth none
But the great venture, where full many a Knight
Hath tried his prowess, and come off with shame,
And where I would not have you loose your life,
Against no man, but furious fiend of Hell.

Rafe. Speak on Sir Knight, tell what he is, and where:
For here I vow upon my blazing badge,
Never to blaze a day in quietness;
But bread and water will I only eat,
And the green herb and rock shall be my couch
Till I have queld that man, or beast, or fiend,
That works such damage to all Errant Knights.

Host. Not far from hence, near [to] a craggy cliff
At the North end of this distressed Town,
There doth stand a lowly house
Ruggedly builded, and in it a Cave
In which an ugly Giant now doth won,
Ycleped Barbaroso: in his hand
He shakes a naked Lance of purest steel,
With sleeves turn'd up, and him before he wears,
A motly garment to preserve his clothes
From blood of those Knights which he massacres,
And Ladies Gentle: without his door doth hang
A copper bason, on a prickant Spear;
At which, no sooner gentle Knights can knock,
But the shrill sound, fierce Barbaroso hears,
And rushing forth, brings in the Errant Knight,
And sets him down in an inchanted chair:
Then with an Engine, which he hath prepar'd
With forty teeth, he claws his courtly crown,
Next makes him wink, and underneath his chin,
He plants a brazen piece of mighty board,
And knocks his bullets round about his cheeks,
Whilst with his fingers, and an instrument
With which he snaps his hair off, he doth fill
The wretches ears with a most hideous noyse.
Thus every Knight Adventurer he doth trim,
And now no creature dares encounter him.

Rafe. In Gods name, I will fight with him, kind sir,
Go but before me to this dismal Cave
Where this huge Giant Barbaroso dwells,
And by that virtue that brave Rosicleere,
That damn'd brood of ugly Giants slew,
And Palmerin Frannarco overthrew:
I doubt not but to curb this Traytor foul,
And to the Devil send his guilty Soul.

Host. Brave sprighted Knight, thus far I will perform
This your request, I'll bring you within sight
Of this most loathsome place, inhabited
By a more lothsome man: but dare not stay,
For his main force swoops all he sees away.

Rafe. Saint George set on before, march Squire and Page. [Exeunt.

Wife. George, dost think Rafe will confound the Giant? Cit. I hold my cap to a farthing he does: why Nell, I saw him wrestle with the great Dutchman, and hurle him.

Wife. Faith and that Dutchman was a goodly man, if all things were answerable to his bigness: and yet they say there was a Scottishman higher than he, and that they two and a Knight met, and saw one another for nothing: but of all the sights that ever were in London, since I was married, methinks the little child that was so fair grown about the members, was the prettiest, that and the Hermaphrodite.

Cit. Nay, by your leave Nil, Ninivie was better.

Wife. Ninivie, O that was the story of Jone and the wall, was it not George?

Cit. Yes lamb. [Enter Mistris Merry-t[hou]ght.

Wife. Look George, here comes Mistris Merry-though[t] [ag]ain, and I would have Rafe come and fight with the Gyant, I tell you true I long to see't.

Cit. Good Mistriss Merri-thought be [g]one, I pray you for my sake, I pray you forbear a little, you shall have audience presently, I have a little business.

Wife. Mistris Merri-thought, if it please you to refrain your passion a little, till Rafe have dispatcht the Giant out of the way, we shall think our selves much bound to thank you: I thank you good Mistris Merri-thought.

[Exit Mist. Merry-thought.

Enter a Boy.

Cit. Boy, come hither, send away Rafe and this whoreson Giant quickly.

Boy. In good faith sir we cannot, you'l utterly spoil our Play, and make it to be hist, and it cost money, you will not suffer us to go on with our plots, I pray Gentlemen rule him.

Cit. Let him come now and dispatch this, and I'll trouble you no more.

Boy. Will you give me your hand of that?

Wife. Give him thy hand George, do, and I'll kiss him, I warrant thee the youth means plainly.

Boy. I'll send him to you presently. [Exit Boy.

Wife. I thank you little youth, feth the child hath a sweet breath George, but I think it be troubled with the Worms, Carduus Benedictus and Mares milk were the only thing in the world for't. O Rafe's here George; God send thee good luck Rafe.

Enter Rafe, Host, Squire, and Dwarf.

Host. Puissant Knight yonder his Mansion is,
Lo, where the Spear and Copper Bason are,
Behold the string on which hangs many a tooth,
Drawn from the gentle jaw of wandring Knights,
I dare not stay to sound, he will appear. [Exit Host.

Rafe. O faint not heart, Susan my Lady dear:
The Coblers Maid in Milkstreet, for whose sake,
I take these Arms, O let the thought of thee,
Carry thy Knight through all adventurous deeds,
And in the honor of thy beauteous self,
May I destroy this monster Barbaroso,
Knock Squire upon the Bason till it break [Enter Barba.
With the shrill strokes, or till the Giant spake.

Wife. O George, the Giant, the Giant, now Rafe for thy life.

Bar. What fond unknowing wight is this, that dares,
So rudely knock at Barbarossa's Cell,
Where no man comes, but leaves his fleece behind?

Rafe. I, traiterous Caitiffe, who am sent by fate
To punish all the sad enormities
Thou hast committed against Ladies gentle,
And Errant Knights, Traytor to God and men:
Prepare thy self, this is the dismal hour
Appointed for thee to give strict account
Of all thy beastly treacherous villanies.

Bar. Fool-hardy Knight, full soon thou shalt aby
This fond reproach, thy body will I bang, [He takes down his pole.
And loe upon that string thy teeth shall hang:
Prepare thy self, for dead soon shalt thou be.

Rafe. Saint George for me. [They fight.

Barba. Gargantua for me.

Wife. To him Rafe, to him, hold up the Giant, set out thy leg before Rafe.

Cit. Falsifie a blow Rafe, falsifie a blow, the Giant lies open on the left side.

Wife. Bear't off, bear't off still; there boy, O Rafe's almost down, Rafe's almost down.

Rafe. Susan inspire me, now have up again.

Wife. Up, up, up, up, up, so Rafe, down with him, down with him Rafe.

Cit. Fetch him over the hip boy.

Wife. There boy, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, Rafe.

Cit. No Rafe, get all out of him first.

Rafe. Presumptuous man, see to what desperate end
Thy treachery hath brought thee, the just Gods,
Who never prosper those that do despise them,
For all the villanies which thou hast done
To Knights and Ladies, now have paid thee home,
By my stiff arm, a Knight adventurous.
But say, vile wretch, before I send thy soul
To sad Avernus, whither it must go,
What captives holdst thou in thy sable cave?

Barba. Go in and free them all, thou hast the day.

Rafe. Go Squire and Dwarf, search in this dreadful cave,
And free the wretched prisoners from their bonds.

[Exit Squire and Dwarf.

Barb. I crave for mercy as thou art a Knight,
And scornst to spill the blood of those that beg.

Rafe. Thou shewest no mercy, nor shalt thou have any,
Prepare thy self, for thou shalt surely dye.

Enter Squire leading one winking, with a Bason under his chin.

Squire. Behold brave Knight here is one prisoner,
Whom this wild man hath used as you see.

Wife. This is the [first] wise word I hear[d] the Squire speak.

Rafe. Speak what thou art, and how thou hast been us'd,
That I may give him condign punishment.

1. Kni. I am a Knight that took my journey post
Northward from London, and in courteous wise,
This Gyant train'd me to his [loathsome] den,
Under pretence of killing of the itch,
And all my body with a powder strew'd,
That smarts and stings, and cut away my beard,
And my curl'd locks wherein were Ribands ty'de,
And with a water washt my tender eyes,
Whilst up and down about me still he skipt,
Whose virtue is, that till my eyes be wip't
With a dry cloth, for this my foul disgrace,
I shall not dare to look a dog i'th' face.

Wife. Alass poor Knight, relieve him Rafe, relieve poor Knights whilst you live.

Rafe. My trusty Squire convey him to the Town,
Where he may find relief, adieu fair Knight. [Exit Knight.

Enter Dwarf leading one with a patch o'er his Nose.

Dwar. Puissant Knight of the burning Pestle height,
See here another wretch, whom this foul beast
Hath scorcht and scor'd in this inhumane wise.

Rafe. Speak me thy name, and eke thy place of birth,
And what hath been thy usage in this Cave.

2. Knight. I am a Knight, Sir Pock-hole is my name,
And by my birth I am a Londoner,
Free by my Copy, but my Ancestors
Were Frenchmen all, and riding hard this way,
Upon a trotting horse my bones did ake,
And I faint Knight to ease my weary limbes,
Light at this Cave, when straight this furious fiend,
With sharpest instrument of purest steel,
Did cut the gristle of my Nose away,
And in the place this velvet plaster stands,
Relieve me gentle Knight out of his hands.

Wife. Good Rafe relieve Sir Pockhole, and send him away, for in truth his breath stinks.

Rafe. Convey him straight after the other Knight:
Sir Pockhole fare you well.

[2]. Knight. Kind Sir goodnight. [Exit.

[Cryes within.

Man. Deliver us.

Woman. Deliver us.

Wife. Harke George, what a woful cry there is, I think some woman lyes in there.

Man. Deliver us.

Woman. Deliver us.

Rafe. What gastly noise is this? speak Barbaroso
Or by this blazing steel thy head goes off.

Barb. Prisoners of mine, whom I in diet keep,
Send lower down into the Cave,
And in a Tub that's heated smoaking hot,
There may they find them and deliver them.

Rafe. Run Squire and Dwarf, deliver them with speed.

Exeunt Squire and Dwarf.

Wife. But will not Raf[e] kill this Giant, surely I am afraid if he let him go he will do as much hurt, as ever he did.

Citizen. Not so Mouse neither, if he could convert him.

Wife. I George, if he could convert him; but a Gyant is not so soon converted as one of us ordinary people. There's a pretty tale of a Witch, that had the Divels mark about her, God bless us, that had a Gyant to her son, that was call'd Lob-lie-by-the-fire, didst never hear it George.

Enter Squire leading a man with a glass of Lotion in his hand, and the Dwarf leading a woman, with Dyet-bread and Drink.

Cit. Peace Nell, here comes the prisoners.

Dwar. Here be these pined wretches, manfull Knight,
That for this six weeks have not seen a wight.

Raph. Deliver what you are, and how you came
To this sad Cave, and what your usage was?

Man. I am an errant Knight that followed Arms,
With spear and shield, and in my tender years
I strucken was with Cupids fiery shaft,
And fell in love with this my Lady dear,
And stole her from her friends in Turne-ball street,
And bore her up and down from Town to Town,
Where we did eat and drink and Musick he[a]re;
Till at the length at this unhappy Town
We did arrive, and coming to this Cave,
This beast us caught, and put us in a Tub,
Where we this two months sweat, and should have done
Another Month if you had not relieved us.

Wom. This bread and water hath our dyet been,
Together with a rib cut from a neck
Of burned Mutton, hard hath been our fare,
Release us from this ugly Gyants snare.

Man. This hath been [all] the food we have receiv'd,
But only twice a day for novelty,
He gave a spoonful of his hearty broth [Pulls out a siringe.
To each of us, through this same [sl]ender quill.

Raph. From this infernall Monster you shall go,
That useth Knights and gentle Ladies so.
Convey them hence. [Exeunt man and woman.

Cit. Cunny, I can tell thee the Gentlem[e]n like Rafe.

Wife. I George, I see it well enough. Gentlemen I thank you all heartily for gracing my man Raph, and I promise you, you shall see him oftner.

Bar. Mercy great Knight, I do recant my ill,
And henceforth never gentle blood will spill.

Raph. I give thee mercy, but yet thou shalt swear
Upon my burning Pestle to perform
Thy promise utter'd.

Bar. I swear and kiss.

Raph. Depart then and amend.
Come Sqire and Dwarf, the Sun grows towards his set,
And we have many more adventures yet. [Exeunt.

Cit. Now Raph is in this humor, I know he would ha beaten all the boys in the house, if they had been set on him.

Wife. I George, but it is well as it is: I warrant you the gentlemen do consider what it is to overthrow a Gyant: but look George, here comes Mistriss Merri-thought, and her son Michael, now you are welcome Mistris Merri-thought, now Raph has done you may go on.

Enter Mistriss Merry-thought and Michael.

Mist. mer. Micke My Boy?

Mich. I forsooth Mother.

Mist. mer. Be merry Micke, we are at home now: where I warrant you, yo shall find the house flung out of the windows: Hark: hey dogs, hey, this is the old world y'faith with my Husband: [if I] get in amo[n]g them, I'll play them such [a] leson, that they shall have little list to come scraping hither again. Why Master Merry-thought, Husband, Charles Merry-thought.

Old Mer. within. If you will sing, and dance, and laugh, and hollow, and laugh again: and then cry there boys there: why then,

One, two, three, and four,
We shall be merry within this hour.

Mist. Mer. Why Charles do you not know your own natural wife? I say open the door, and turn me out those mangy companions; 'tis more than time that they were fellow like with you: you are a Gentleman Charles, and an old man, and father of two children; and I my self, (though I say it) by my mothers side, Niece to a Worshipful Gentleman, and a Conductor, he has been three times in his Majesties service at Chester, and is now the fourth time, God bless him, and his charge upon his journey.

Old Mer. Go from my window, love go:
Go from my window my dear,
The wind and the rain will drive you back again,
You cannot be lodged here.

Hark you Mistriss Merri-thought, you that walk upon Adventures, and forsake your Husband, because he sings with never a penny in his purse; what shall I think my self the worse? Faith no, I'll be merry.

You come not here, here's none but Lads of mettle, lives of a hundred years, and upwards, care never drunk their bloods, nor want made them warble.

Hey-ho, my heart is heavy.

Mist. Mer. Why M. Merri-thought, what am I that you should laugh me to scorn thus abruptly? am I not your fellow-feeler, (as we may say) in all our miseries? your comforter in health and sickness? have I not brought you Children? are they not like you Charles? look upon thine own Image, hardhearted man; and yet for all this—

Old Mer. within. Begon, begon my juggy, my puggy, begon my love my dear.
The weather is warm, 'twill do thee no harm, thou canst not be lodged here.
Be merry boys, some light musick, and more wine.

Wife. He's not in earnest, I hope George, is he?

Cit. What if he be, sweet heart?

Wife. Marry if he be George, I'll make bold to tell him he's an ingrant old man, to use his bed-fellow so scurvily.

Cit. What how does he use her Honey?

Wife. Marry come up sir sauce-box, I think you'll take his part, will you not? Lord how hot are you grown: you are a fine man an you had a fine Dog, it becomes you sweetly.

Cit. Nay, prethee Nell chide not: for as I am an honest man, and a true Christian Grocer, I do not like his doings.

Wife. I cry you mercy then George, you know we are all frail, and full of infirmities. Dee hear Master Merri-thought, may I crave a word with you?

Old Mer. within. Strike up lively lads.

Wife. I had not thought in truth, Master Merri-thought, that a man of your age and discretion (as I may say) being a Gentleman, and therefore known by your gentle conditions, could have used so little respect to the weakness of his wife: for your wife is your own flesh, the staff of your age, your yoke-fellow, with whose help you draw through the myre of this transitory world: Nay, she's your own rib. And again—

Old Mer. I come not hither for thee to teach,
I have no pulpit for thee to preach,
I would thou hadst kist me under the breech,
As thou art a Lady gay.

Wife. Marry with a vengeance, I am heartily sorry for the poor Gentlewoman: but if I were thy wife, i'faith gray-beard, i'faith—

Cit. I prethee sweet Hony-suckle, be content.

Wife. Give me such words that am a Gentlewoman born, hang him hoary Rascal. Get me some drink George, I am almost molten with fretting: now beshrew his Knaves heart for it.

Old mer. Play me a light Lavalto: come, be frollick, fill the good fellows wine.

Mist. mer. Why Master Merri-thought, are you disposed to make me wait here: you'll open I hope, i'll fetch them that shall open else.

Old mer. Good woman, if you will sing, I'll give you something, if not—

SONG.

You are no love for me Marget, I am no love for you.
Come aloft Boys, aloft.

Mist. mer. Now a Churles fart in your teeth Sir: Come Mick, we'll not trouble him, a shall not ding us i'th' teeth with his bread and his broth, that he shall not: come boy, I'll provide for thee, I warrant thee: wee'll go to Master Venterwels the Merchant, I'll get his letter to mine Host of the Bell in Waltham, there I'll place thee with the Tapster, will not that do well for thee Mick? and let me alone for that old Cuckoldly Knave your father, I'll use him in his kind, I warrant ye.

Wife. Come George, where's the beer?

Cit. Here Love.

Wife. This old fornicating fellow will not out of my mind yet; Gentlemen, I'll begin to you all, I desire more of your acquaintance, with all my heart. Fill the Gentlemen some beer George.

Finis Actus Tertii. Musick.

Actus Quartus. Scæna Prima.

Boy danceth.

Wife. Look George, the little boy's come again, methinks he looks something like the Prince of Orange in his long stocking, if he had a little harness about his neck. George, I will have him dance Fading; Fading, is a fine Jig I'll assure you Gentlemen: begin brother, now a capers sweet heart, now a turn a th' toe, and then tumble: cannot you tumble youth?

Boy. No indeed forsooth.

Wife. Nor eat fire?

Boy. Neither.

Wife. Why then I thank you heartily, there's two pence to buy you points withall.

Enter Jasper and Boy.

Jasp. There boy, deliver this: but do it well. Hast thou provided me four lusty fellows?

Able to carry me? and art thou perfect
In all thy business?

Boy. Sir you need not fear,
I have my lesson here, and cannot miss it:
The men are ready for you, and what else
Pertains to this imployment.

Jasp. There my boy,
Take it, but buy no land.

Boy. Faith sir 'twere rare
To see so young a purchaser: I flie,
And on my wings carry your destiny. [Exit.

Jasp. Go, and be happy: Now my latest hope
Forsake me not, but fling thy Anchor out,
And let it hold: stand fix[t] thou rolling stone,
Till I enjoy my dearest: hear me all
You powers that rule in men celestial. [Exit.

Wife. Go thy ways, thou art as crooked a sprig as ever grew, in London, I warrant him he'll come to some naughty end or other: for his looks say no less: Besides, his father (you know George) is none of the best, you heard him take me up like a Gill flirt: and sing bawdy Songs upon me: but i'faith if I live George—

Cit. Let me alone sweet-heart, I have a trick in my head shall lodge him in the Arches for one year, and make him sing Peccavi, 'ere I leave him, and yet he shall never know who hurt him neither.

Wife. Do my good Ge[o]rge, do.

Cit. What shall we have Rafe do now boy?

Boy. You shall have what you will sir.

Cit. Why so sir, go and fetch me him then, and let the Sophy of Persia come and christen him a child.

Boy. Believe me Sir, that will not do so well, 'tis stale, it has been had before at the Red Bull.

Wife. George, let Rafe travell over great hills, and let him be [very] weary, and come to the King of Cracovia's house, covered with velvet, and there let the Kings daughter stand in her window all in beaten gold, combing her golden locks with a comb of Ivory, and let her spye Rafe, and fall in love with him, and come down to him, and carry him into her fathers house, and then let Rafe talk with her.

Cit. Well said Nel, it shall be so: boy let's ha't done quickly.

Boy. Sir, if you will imagine all this to be done already, you shall hear them talk together: but we cannot present a house covered with black Velvet, and a Lady in beaten gold.

Cit. Sir Boy, lets ha't as you can then.

Boy. Besides, it will shew ill-favoredly to have a Grocers Prentice to court a Kings daughter.

Cit. Will it so Sir? you are well read in Histories: I pray you what was Sir Dagonet? was not he Prentice to a Grocer in London? read the Play of the Four Prentices of London, where they toss their Pikes so: I pray you fetch him in Sir, fetch him in.

Boy. It shall be done, it is not our fault Gentlemen. [Exit.

Wife. Now we shall see fine doings I warrant thee George. O here they come; how prettily the King of Cracovia's daughter is drest.

Enter Rafe and the Lady, Squire and Dwarf.

Cit. I Nell, it is the fashion of that Countrey, I warrant thee.

Lady. Welcome sir Knight unto my fathers Court.
King of Moldavia, unto me Pompiona
His daughter dear: but sure you do not like
Your entertainment, that will stay with us
No longer but a night.

Raph. Damsell right fair,
I [a]m on many sad adventures bound,
That call me forth into the Wilderness:
Besides, my horses back is something gal'd,
Which will enforce me ride a sober pace.
But many thanks (fair Lady) be to you,
For using errant Knight with courtesie.

Lady. But say (brave Knight) what is your name and birth?

Rafe. My name is Rafe, I am an Englishman,
As true as steel, a hearty Englishman,
And Prentice to a Grocer in the Strand,
By deed indent, of which I have one part:
But fortune calling me to follow Arms,
On me this holy Order I did take,
Of burning Pestle, which in all mens eyes,
I bear, confounding Ladies enemies.

Lady. Oft have I heard of your brave Countrymen,
And fertile soil, and store of wholesome food;
My father oft will tell me of a drink
In England found, and Nipitato call'd,
Which driveth all the sorrow from your hearts.

Rafe. Lady 'tis true, you need not lay your lips
To better Nipitato than there is.

Lady. And of a wild-fowl he will often speak,
Which poudred beef and mustard called is:
For there have been great Wars 'twixt us and you,
But truely Rafe, it was not long of me.
Tell me then Rafe could you contented be,
To wear a Ladies favor in your shield?

Rafe. I am a Knight of Religious Order,
And will not wear a favor of a Ladies
That trusts in Antichrist, and false traditions.

Cit. Well said Rafe, convert her if thou canst.

Rafe. Besides, I have a Lady of my own
In merry England; for whose virtuous sake
I took these Arms, and Susan is her name,
A Coblers maid in Milkstreet, whom I vow
Nere to forsake, whilst life and Pestle last.

Lady. Happy that Cobling Dame, who ere she be
That for her own (dear Rafe) hath gotten thee.
Unhappy I, that nere shall see the day
To see thee more, that bear'st my heart away.

Rafe. Lady farewell, I must needs take my leave.

Lady. Hard-hearted Rafe, that Ladies dost deceive.

Cit. Hark thee Rafe, there's money for thee; give something in the King of Cracovia's house, be not beholding to him.

Rafe. Lady before I go, I must remember
Your fathers Officers, who truth to tell,
Have been about me very diligent:
Hold up thy snowy hand thou princely maid,
There's twelvepence for your fathers Chamberlain.
And another shilling for his Cook,
For by my troth the Goose was rosted well.
And twelve pence for your fathers Horse-keeper,
For nointing my horse back, and for his butter
There is another shilling. [T]o the maid
That washt my boot-hose, there's an English groat,
And twopence to the boy that wip't my boots.
And last, fair Lady, there is for your self
Three pence to buy you pins at Bumbo Fair.

Lady. Full many thanks, and I will keep them safe
Till all the heads be off, for thy sake Rafe.

Rafe. Advance my Squire and Dwarf, I cannot stay.

Lady. Thou kil'st my heart in parting thus away. [Exeunt.

Wife. I commend Rafe, yet that he will not stoop to a Cracovian, there's properer women in London than any are there I-wis. But here comes Master Humphrey, and his love again, now George.

Cit. I Cunny, peace.

Enter Merchant, Humphrey, Luce, and Boy.

Merc. Go get you up, I will not be intreated.
And Gossip mine I'll keep you sure hereafter
From gadding out again, with boys and unthrifts,
Come they are womens tears, I know your fashion.
Go sirrah, lock her in, and keep the key, [Exit Luce and Boy.
Safe as [you love] your life. Now my son Humphrey,
You may both rest assured of my love
In this, and reap your own desire.

Hum. I see this love you speak of, through your daughter.
Although the hole be little, and hereafter
Will yield the like in all I may or can,
Fitting a Christian, and a Gentleman.

Merc. I Do believe you (my good son) and thank you.
For 'twere an impudence to think you flattered.

Hum. It were indeed, but shall I tell you why,
I have been beaten twice about the lye.

Merc. Well son, no more of complement, my daughter
Is yours again; appoint the time and take her.
Wee'll have no stealing for it, I my self
And some few of our friends will see you married.

Hum. I would you would i'faith, for be it known
I ever was afraid to lye alone.

Mer. Some three days hence then.

Hum. Three days, let me see,
'Tis somewhat of the most, yet I agree,
Because I mean against the pointed day,
To visit all my friends in new array. [Enter servant.

Ser. Sir, there's a Gentlewoman without would speak with your Worship.

Mer. What is she?

Ser. Sir I askt her not.

Mer. Bid her come in.

Enter Mistriss Merry-thought, and Michael.

Mist. mer. Peace be to your Worship, I come as a poor Suitor to you Sir, in the behalf of this child.

Mer. Are you not wife to Merri-thought?

Mist. mer. Yes truly, would I had nere seen his eyes, he has undone me and himself, and his children, and there he lives at home and sings, and hoyts, and revels among his drunken companions, but I warrant you, where to get a penny to put bread in his mouth, he knows not: And therefore if it like your Worship, I would intreat your Letter, to the honest Host of the Bell in Waltham, that I may place my child under the protection of his Tapster, in some setled course of life.

Mer. I'm glad the heavens have heard my prayers: thy
Husband
When I was ripe in sorrows laught at me,
Thy son, like an unthankful wretch, I having
Redeem'd him from his fall, and made him mine,
To shew his love again, first stole my daughter:
Then wrong'd this Gentleman, and last of all,
Gave me that grief, had almost brought me down
Unto my grave, had not a stronger hand
Reliev'd my sorrows, go, and weep as I did,
And be unpittied, for here I profess
An everlasting hate to all thy name.

Mist. mer. Will you so Sir, how say you by that? come Micke, let him keep his wind to cool his Pottage, we'll go to thy Nurses, Micke, she knits silk stockings boy, and we'll knit too boy, and be beholding to none of them all.

[Exeunt Michael and Mother.

Enter a Boy with a Letter.

Boy. Sir, I take it you are the Master of this house.

Mer. How then boy?

Boy. Then to your self Sir, comes this Letter.

Mer. From whom my pretty boy?

Boy. From him that was your servant, but no more
Shall that name ever be, for he is dead,
Grief of your purchas'd anger broke his heart,
I saw him dye, and from his hand receiv'd
This paper with a charge to bring it hither,
Read it, and satisfie your self in all.

LETTER.

Merch. Sir that I have wronged your love, I must confess, in which I have purchast to my self, besides mine own undoing, the ill opinion of my friends, let not your anger, good Sir, outlive me, but suffer me to rest in peace with your forgiveness; let my body (if a dying man may so much prevail with you) be brought to your daughter, that she may [truely] know my hot flames are now buried, and withall, receive a testimony of the zeal I bore her virtue: farewell for ever, and be ever happy.

Jasper.

Gods hand is great in this, I do forgive him,
Yet am I glad he's quiet, where I hope
He will not bite again: boy bring the bo[d]y,
And let him have his will, if that be all.

Boy. 'Tis here without Sir.

Mer. So Sir, if you please
You may conduct it in, I do not fear it.

Hum. I'll be your Usher boy, for though I say it,
He ow'd me something once, and well did pay it. [Exeunt.

Enter Luce alone.

Luce. If there be any punishment inflicted
Upon the miserable, more than yet I feell,
Let it together seize me, and at once
Press down my soul, I cannot bear the pain
Of these delaying tortures: thou that art
The end of all, and the sweet rest of all;
Come, come oh death bring me to thy peace,
And blot out all the memory I nourish
Both of [my] father and my cruel friend.
O wretch'd maid still living to be wretched,
To be a say to fortune in her changes,
And grow to number times and woes together,
How happy had I been, if being born
My grave had been my cradle! [Enter servant.

Ser. By your leave
Young Mistris, here's a boy hath brought a Coffin,
What a would say I know not: but your father
Charg'd me to give you notice, here they come.

Enter two bearing a Coffin, Jasper in it.

Luce. For me I hope 'tis come, and 'tis most welcome.

Boy. Fair Mistriss, let me not add greater grief
To that great store you have already; Jasper
That whilst he liv'd was yours, now dead,
And here inclos'd, commanded me to bring
His body hither, and to crave a tear
From those fair eyes, though he deserve not pitty,
To deck his Funeral; for so he bid me
Tell her for whom he di'd.

Luce. He shall have many: [Exeunt Coffin-carrier and Boy.
Good friends depart a little, whilst I take
My leave of this dead man, that once I lov'd:
Hold, yet a little, life, and then I give thee
To thy first heavenly being; O my friend!
Hast thou deceiv'd me thus, and got before me?
I shall not long be after, but believe me,
Thou wert too cruel Jasper 'gainst thy self,
In punishing the fault I could have pardoned,
With so untimely death; thou didst not wrong me,
But ever wer't most kind, most true, most loving;
And I the most unkind, most false, most cruell.
Didst thou but ask a tear? I'll give thee all,
Even all my eyes can pour down, all my sigh's
And all my self, before thou goest from me
There are but sparing Rites: But if thy soul
Be yet about this place, and can behold
And see what I prepare to deck thee with,
It s[h]all go up, born on the wings of peace,
And satisfied: first will I sing thy Dirge,
Then kiss thy pale lips, and then dye my self,
And fill one Coffin and one grave together.

SONG.

Come you whose loves are dead,
And whilst I sing
Weep and wring
Every hand and every head,
Bind with Cipress and sad Ewe,
Ribbands black, and Candles blue,
For him that was of men most true.

Come with heavy mourning,
And on his grave
Let him have
Sacrifice of sighs and groaning,
Let him have fair flowers enow,
White and purple, green and yellow,
For him that was of men most true.

Thou sable cloth, sad cover of my joys,
I lift thee up, and thus I meet with death.

Jasp. And thus you meet the living.

Luce. Save me Heaven.

Jasp. Nay, do not flye me fair, I am no spirit,
Look better on me, do you know me yet?

Luce. O thou dear shadow of my friend.

Jasp. Dear substance,
I swear I am no shadow feel my hand,
It is the same it was, I am your Jasper,
Your Jasper that's yet living, and yet loving,
Pardon my rash attempt, my foolish proof
I put in practice of your constancy:
For sooner should my sword have drunk my blood,
And set my soul at liberty, than drawn
The least drop from that body, for which boldness
Doom me to any thing: if death, I take it
And willingly.

Luce. This death I'll give you for it,
So, now I am satisfied: you are no spirit,
But my own truest, truest, truest friend,
Why do you come thus to me?

Jasp. First, to see you,
Then to convey you hence.

Luce. It cannot be,
For I am lockt up here, and watcht at all hours,
That 'tis impossible for me to scape.

Jasp. Nothing more possible, within this Coffin
Do you convey your self, let me alone,
I have the wits of twenty men about me,
Only I crave the shelter of your Closet
A little, and then fear me not; creep in
That they may presently convey you hence:
Fear nothing dearest love, I'll be your second,
Lye close, so, all goes well yet; boy.

Boy. At hand Sir.

Jasp. Convey away the Coffin, and be wary.

Boy. 'Tis done already.

Jasp. Now must I go conjure. [Exit.

Enter Merchant.

Merch. Boy, boy.

Boy. Your servant Sir.

Merch. Do me this kindness boy, hold here's a crown: before thou bury the body of this fellow, carry it to his old merry father, and salute him from me, and bid him sing, he hath cause.

Boy. I will Sir.

Merch. And then bring me word what tune he is in, and have another crown: but do it truly. I have fitted him a bargain, now, will vex him.

Boy. God bless your Worships health Sir.

Merch. Farewell boy. [Exeunt.

Enter Master Merry-thought.

Wife. Ah old Merry-thought, art thou there again? let's hear some of thy Songs.

Old Mer. Who can sing a merrier note
Than he that cannot change a gr[o]at?

Not a D[eni]er left, and yet my heart leaps; I do wonder yet, as old as I am, that any man will follow a Trade, or serve, that may sing and laugh, and walk the streets: my wife and both my sons are I know not where, I have nothing left, nor know I how to come by meat to supper, yet am I merry still; for I know I shall find it upon the Table at six a Clock; therefore hang Thought

I would not be a Servingman to carry the cloke-bag still.
Nor would I be a Fawlconer the greedy Hawkes to fill.
But I would be in a good house, and have a good Master too:
Bt I would eat and drink of the best, and no work would I do.

This is [it] that keeps life and soul together, mirth: this is the Philosophers stone that they write so much on, that keeps a man ever young.

Enter a Boy.

Boy. Sir, they say they know all your Money is gone, and they will trust you for no more drink.

Old mer. Will they not? let 'em chuse: the best is I have mirth at home, and need not send abroad for that; let them keep their drink to themselves.

For Jillian of Berry, she dwells on a hill,
And she hath good Beer and Ale to sell,
And of good fellows she thinks no ill,
And thither will we go now, now, now, and thither
Will we go now.
And when you have made a little stay,
You need not [aske] what is to pay,
But kiss your Hostess and go your way. And thither, &c.

Enter another Boy.

2. Boy. Sir, I can get no bread for supper.

Old mer. Hang bread and supper, let's preserve our mirth, and we shall never feel hunger, I'll warrant you, let's have a Catch, boy follow me, come sing this Catch.

Ho, ho, no body at home, meat, nor drink, nor money ha we none, fill the pot Eedy, never more need I.

Old mer. So boyes enough, follow me, let's change our place and we shall laugh afresh. [Exeunt.

Wife. Let him go George, a shall not have any countenance from us, not a good word from any i'th' Company, if I may strike stroke in't.

Cit. No more, a shannot love; but Nell, I will have Rafe do a very notable matter now, to the eternal honour and glory of all Grocers: sirrah, you there, boy, can none of you hear?

Boy. Sir, your pleasure.

Cit. Let Rafe come out on May day in the morning, and speak upon a Conduit with all his Scarfs about him, and his Feathers, and his Rings, and his Knacks.

Boy. Why sir, you do not think of our plot, what will become of that then?

Cit. Why sir, I care not what become on't, I'll have him come out, or I'll fetch him out my self, I'll have something done in honor of the City: besides he hath been long enough upon Adventures, bring him out quickly, [or if] I come [in] amongst you—

Boy. Well sir, he shall come out, but if our Play miscarry, Sir you are like to pay for't. [Exit.

Cit. Bring him away then.

Wife. This will be brave i'faith: George shall not he dance the Morrice too for the credit of the Strand.

Cit. No sweet-heart it will be too much for the boy. O there he is Nell, he's reasonable well in reparel, but he has not Rings enough.

Enter Rafe.

Rafe. London, to thee I do present the merry Month of May,
Let each true Subject be content to hear me what I say:
For from the top of Conduit head, as plainly may appear,
I will both tell my name to you, and wherefore I came here.
My name is Rafe, by due descent, though not ignoble I,
Yet far inferiour to the flock of gracious Grocery.
And by the Common-counsel of my fellows in the Strand,
With gilded Staff, and crossed Skarfe, the May-lord here I stand.
Rejoyce O English hearts, rejoyce, rejoyce O Lovers dear;
Rejoyce O City, Town, and Countrey, rejoyce eke every Shire;
For now the [fr]agrant flowers do spring and sprout in seemly sort,
The little Birds do sit and sing, the Lambs do make fine sport,
And now the Burchin Tree doth bud that makes the Schoolboy cry,
The Morrice rings while Hobby horse doth foot it featuously:
The Lords and Ladies now abroad for their disport and play,
Do kiss sometimes upon the Grass, and sometimes in the Hay.
Now butter with a leaf of Sage is good to purge the blood,
Fly Venus and Phlebotomy for they are neither good.
Now little fish on tender stone, begin to cast their bellies,
And sluggish snails, that erst were mute, do creep out of their shellies,
The rumbling Rivers now do warm for little boys to paddle,
The Sturdy Steed, now goes to grass, and up they hang his saddle.
The heavy Hart, the blowing Buck, the Rascall and the Pricket,
Are now among the Yeomans Pease, and leave the fearful thicket.
And be like them, O you, I say, of this same noble Town,
And lift aloft your velvet heads, and slipping of your gown:
With bels on legs, and napkins clean unto your shoulders ti'de,
With Scarfs and Garters as you please, and Hey for our Town cry'd:
March out and shew your willing minds, by twenty, and by twenty,
To Hogsdon or to Newington, where Ale and Cakes are plenty.
And let it nere be said for shame, that we the youths of London,
Lay thruming of our caps at home, and left our custom undone.
Up then I say, both young and old, both man and maid a Maying
With Drums and Guns that bounce aloud, and merry Taber playing.
Which to prolong, God save our King, and send his Countrey peace,
And root out Treason from the Land, and so my friends I cease.

Finis Act. 4.

Actus Quintus. Scæna Prima.

Enter Merchant solus.

Merch. I will have no great store of company at the wedding, a couple of neighbors and their wives, and we will have a Capon in stewed broth, with marrow, and a good piece of beef, stuck with Rose-mary.

Enter Jasper[,] his face mealed.

Jasp. Forbear thy pains fond man, it is too late.

Merch. Heaven bless me: Jasper?

Jasp. I, I am his Ghost
Whom thou hast injur'd for his constant love:
Fond worldly wretch, who dost not understand
In death that true hearts cannot parted be.
First know thy daughter is quite born away,
On wings o[f] Angels: through the liquid Ayre
Too far out of thy reach, and never more
Shalt thou behold her face: But she and I
Will in another world enjoy our loves,
Where neither fathers anger, poverty,
Nor any cross that troubles earthly men
Shall make us sever our united hearts,
And never shall thou sit, or be alone
In any place, but I will visit thee
With gastly looks, and put into thy mind
The great offences which thou didst to me.
When thou art at thy Table with thy friends,
Merry in heart, and fild with swelling wine,
I'll come in midst of all thy pride and mirth,
Invisible to all men but thy self,
And whisper such a sad tale in thine ear,
Shall make thee let the Cup fall from thy hand,
And stand as mute and pale as Death itself.

Merch. Forgive me Jasper; Oh! what might I do?
Tell me to satisfie thy troubled Ghost?

Jasp. There is no means, too late thou thinkst on this.

Mer. But tell me what were best for me to do?

Jasp. Repent thy deed, and satisfie my father,
And beat fond Humphrey out of thy doors. [Exit Jasp.

Enter Humphrey.

Wife. Look George, his very Ghost would have folks beaten.

Hum. Father, my bride is gone, fair Mistris Luce,
My soul's the font of vengeance, mischiefs sluce.

Mer. Hence fool out of my sight, with thy fond passion,
Thou hast undone me.

Hum. Hold my father dear,
For Luce thy daughters sake, that had no peer.

Mer. Thy father fool? there's some blows more, begon.
Jasper, I hope thy Ghost be well appeased,
To see thy will perform'd, now [will I] go
To satisfie thy father for thy wrongs. [Exit.

Hum. What shall I do? I have been beaten twice.
And Mistris Luce is gone? help me device:
Since my true-love is gone, I never more,
Whilst I do live, upon the Skie will pore;
But in the dark will wear out my shoo-soles
In passion, in Saint Faiths Church under Pauls. [Exit.

Wife. George call Rafe hither, if you love me call Rafe hither, I have the bravest thing for him to do George; prethee, call him quickly.

Cit. Rafe, why Rafe boy.

Enter Rafe.

Rafe. Here Sir.

Cit. Come hither Rafe, come to thy Mistris Boy.

Wife. Rafe I would have thee call all the youths together in battle-ray, with Drums, and Guns, and flags, and march to Mile-end in pompous fashion, and there exhort your Souldiers to be merry and wise, and to keep their beards from burning Rafe, and then skirmish, and let your flags fly, and cry, kill, kill, kill: my husband shall lend you his Jerkin Rafe, and there's a Scarfe; for the rest, the house shall furnish you, and we'll pay for't: do it bravely Rafe, and think before whom you perform, and what person you represent.

Rafe. I warrant you Mistress, if I do it not, for the honor of the City, and the credit of my Master, let me never hope for freedome.

Wife. 'Tis well spoken i'faith; go thy waies, thou art a spark indeed.

Cit. Ralph, double your files bravely Ralph.

Ralph. I warrant you Sir. [Exit Ralph.

Cit. Let him look narrowly to his service, I shall take him else; I was there my self a Pike-man once, in the hottest of the day, wench, had my feather shot sh[eere] away, the fringe of my pike burnt off with powder, my pate broken with a scouring-stick, and yet I thank God I am here. [Drum within.

Wife. Hark George, the Drums.

Cit. Ran, tan; tan, tan, ran, tan: Oh wench an thou hadst but seen little Ned of Aldgate, drum Ned, how he made it roar again, and laid on like a tyrant: and then struck softly till the Ward came up, and then thundred again, and together we go: sa, sa, sa, bounce quoth the Guns: courage my hearts, quoth the Captains: Saint George, quoth the pike-men; and withal here they lay, and there they lay; And yet for all this I am here wench.

Wife. Be thankful for it George, for indeed 'tis wonderful.

Enter Ralph and his company with Drums and Colours.

Ralph. March fair my hearts; Lieutenant beat the rear up: Ancient let your Colours flie; but have a great care of the Butchers hooks at White-Chappel, they have been the death of many a fair Ancient. Open your files, that I may take a view both of your persons and munition: Serjeant call a Muster.

Serg. A stand, William Hamerton Pewterer.

Ham. Here Captain.

Ralph. A Corslet and a Spanish Pike; 'tis well, can you shake it with a terror?

Ham. I hope so Captain.

Ralph. Charge upon me, 'tis with the weakest: put more strength William Hamerton, more strength: as you were again; proceed Serjeant.

Serj. George Green-goose, Poulterer.

Green. Here.

Ralph. Let me see your Peece, neighbor Green-goose, when was she shot in?

Green. And like you master Captain, I made a shot even now, partly to scour her, and partly for audacity.

Ralph. It should seem so certainly, for her breath is yet inflamed: besides, there is a main fault in the touch-hole, it runs and stinketh; and I tell you moreover, and believe it. Ten such touch-holes would breed the Pox in the Army. Get you a Feather, neighbor, get you a Feather, sweet Oil, and Paper, and your Peece may do well enough yet. Where's your Powder?

Green. Here.

Ralph. What in a Paper? As I am a Soldier and a Gentleman, it craves a Martial Court: you ought to die for't. Where's your horn? answer me to that.

Green. An't like you Sir, I was oblivious.

Ralph. It likes me not it should be so; 'tis a shame for you, and a scandal to all our Neighbors, being a man of worth and estimation, to leave your horn behind you: I am afraid 'twill breed example. But let me tell you no more on't; stand, till I view you all. What's become o'th' nose of your flaske?

1 Sold. Indeed law Captain, 'twas blown away with powder.

Ralph. Put on a new one at the Cities Charge. Where's the stone of this Peece?

2 Sold. The Drummer took it out to light Tobacco.

Ralph. 'Tis a fault my friend, put it in again: you want a Nose, and you a Stone; Serjeant, take a note on't, for I mean to stop it in the pay. Remove and march, soft and fair Gentlemen; soft and fair: double and files, as you were, faces about. Now you with the sodden face, keep in there: look to your Match sirrah, it will be in your fellows flask anon. So make a Crescent now, advance your Pikes, stand and give ear, Gentlemen, Countrey-men, Friends, and my fellow-Soldiers, I have brought you this day from the Shop of Security, and the Counters of Content, to measure out in these furious fields, Honor by the ell, and Prowess by the pound: Let it not, O let it not, I say, be told hereafter, the noble issue of this City fainted: but bear your selves in this fair action, like men, valiant men, and free men: Fear not the face of the enemy: nor the noise of the Guns: for believe me brethren, the rude rumbling of a Brewers Carr is [farre] more terrible, of which you have a daily experience: Neither let the stink of Powder offend you, since a more valiant stink is nightly with you. To a resolved mind, his home is every where: I speak not this to take away the hope of your return; for you shall see (I do not doubt it) and that very shortly, your loving wives again, and your sweet children, whose care doth bear you company in baskets. Remember then whose cause you have in hand, and like a sort of true-born Scavengers, scour me this famous Realm of enemies. I have no more to say but this: Stand to your tacklings lads, and shew to the world, you can as well brandish a sword, as shake an Apron. Saint George, and on my hearts.

Omnes. Saint George, Saint George. [Exeunt.

Wife. 'Twas well done Ralph, I'll send thee a cold Capon a field, and a bottle of March-beer; and, it may be, come my self to see thee.

Cit. Nel, the boy hath deceiv'd me much, I did not think it had been in him: he has perform'd such a matter wench, that if I live, next year I'll have him Captain of the Gallifoist, or I'll want my Will.

Enter Old Merry-thought.

Old Mer. Yet I thank God, I break not a rinkle more than I had, not a stoop boys: Care live with Cats, I defie thee, my heart is as sound as an Oak; and though I want drink to wet my whistle, I can sing.

Come no more there boys, come no more there:
For we shall never whilst we live, come any more there.

Enter a Boy with a Coffin.

Boy. God save you Sir.

Old Mer. It's a brave Boy: can'st thou sing?

Boy. Yes Sir, I can sing, but 'tis not so necessary at this time.

Old Mer. Sing we, and chaunt it, whilst love doth grant it.

Boy. Sir, Sir, if you knew what I have brought you, you would have little list to sing.

Old Mer. Oh the Mimon round, full long [long] I have thee sought.
And now I have thee found, and what hast thou here brought?

Boy. A Coffin, Sir, and your dead Son Jasper in it.

Old Mer. Dead? why farewell he:
Thou wast a bonny boy, and I did love thee.

Enter Jasper.

Jasp. Then I pray you Sir, do so still.

Old Mer. Jasper's Ghost? thou art welcome from Stygian lake so soon,
Declare to me what wondrous things in Pluto's court are done.

Jasp. By my troth sir, I ne'r came there, 'tis too hot for me Sir.

Old Mer. A merry Ghost, a very merry Ghost.
And where is your true love? Oh where is yours?

Jasp. Marry look you Sir. [Heaves up the Coffin.

Old Mer. Ah ha! Art thou good at that i' faith?
With hey trixie terlerie-whiskin, the world it runs on wheels.
When the young mans —— up goes the Maidens heels.

Mistriss Merry-thought and Michael within.

Mist. Mer. What Mr. Merri-thought, will you not let's in? what do you think shall become of us?

[Old] Mer. What voice is that that calleth at our door?

Mist. Mer. You know me well enough, I am sure I have not been such a stranger to you.

Old Mer. And some they whistled, and some they sung, Hey down, down: and some did loudly say, ever as the Lord Barnets horn blew, Away Musgrave away.

Mist. Mer. You will not have us starve here, will you Master Merry-thought?

Jasp. Nay, good Sir be perswaded, she is my Mother: if her offences have been great against you, let your own love remember she is yours, and so forgive her.

Luce. Good master Merry-thought, let me intreat you, I will not be denied.

Mist. Mer. Why Master Merry-thought, will you be a vext thing still?

Old Mer. Woman I take you to my love again, but you shall sing before you enter: therefore dispatch your song, and so come in.

Mist. Mer. Well, you must have your Will when all's done, Mich. what song canst thou sing Boy?

Mich. I can sing none forsooth, but a Ladies Daughter of Paris properly.

Mich. Mer. Song. It was a Ladies Daughter, &c.

Old Mer. Come, you're welcome home again.
If such danger be in playing, and jest must to earnest turn,
You shall go no more a Maying.

Merch. within. Are you within Sir, Master Merry-thought?

Jasp. It is my Masters voice, good Sir, go hold him [in] talk whilst we convey ourselves into some inward room.

Old Mer. What are you? are you merry? you must be very merry if you enter.

Mer. I am Sir.

Old Mer. Sing then.

Mer. Nay, good Sir open to me.

Old Mer. Sing, I say, or by the merry heart, you come not in.

Mer. Well Sir, I'll sing.

Fortune my foe, &c.

Old Mer. You are welcome Sir, you are welcome: you see your entertainment, pray you be merry.

Mer. Oh Master Merry-thought, I am come to aske you
Forgiveness for the wrongs I offered you,
And your most virtuous Son, they're infinite,
Yet my contrition shall be more than they.
I do confess my hardness broke his heart.
For which just heaven hath given me punishment
More than my age can carry, his wandring spirit
Not yet at rest, pursues me every where,
Crying, I'll haunt thee for thy cruelty.
My Daughter she is gone, I know not how,
Taken invisible, and whether living,
Or in grave, 'tis yet uncertain to me.
Oh Master Merry-thought, these are the Weights,
Will sink me to my grave, forgive me Sir.

Old Mer. Why Sir, I do forgive you, and be merry.
And if the wag in's life time, plaid the knave,
Can you forgive him too?

Mer. With all my heart Sir.

Old Mer. Speak it again, and heartily.

Mer. I do Sir.
Now by my soul I do.

Old Mer. With that came out his Paramour,
She was as white as the Lilly Flower,
Hey troul, trolie lolie.

Enter Luce and Jasper.

With that came out her own dear Knight,
He was as true as ever did fight, &c.

Sir, if you will forgive 'em, clap their hands together, there's no more to be said i'th' matter.

Mer. I do, I do.

Cit. I do not like this, peace boys, hear me one of you, every bodies part is come to an end but Ralph's, and he's left out.

Boy. 'Tis long of your self Sir, we have nothing to do with his part.

Cit. Ralph. Come away, make on him as you have done of the rest, boys come.

Wife. Now good Husband, let him come out and die.

Cit. He shall Nell, Ralph, come away quickly and die boy.

Boy. 'Twill be very unfit he should die sir, upon no occasion, and in a Comedy too.

Cit. Take you no care for that Sir boy, is not his part at an end, think you, when he's dead? come away Ralph.

Enter Ralph, with a forked arrow through his head.

Ralph. When I was mortal, this my costive corps
Did lap up Figs and Raisons in the Strand,
Where sitting I espi'd a lovely Dame,
Whose Master wrought with Lingell and with All,
And underground he vampied many a Boot,
Straight did her love prick forth me, tender sprig:
To follow feats of Arms in warlike wise,
Through Waltham Desart; where I did perform
Many atchievements, and did lay on ground
Huge Barbaroso, that insulting Giant,
And all his Captives soon set at liberty.
Then honor prickt me from my native soil,
Into Moldavia, where I gain'd the love
Of Pompiana his beloved Daughter:
But yet prov'd constant to the black thumm'd Maid
Susan, and scorn'd Pompianaes love:
Yet liberal I was, and gave her pins,
And money for her Fathers Officers,
I then returned home, and thrust my self
In action, and by all [men] chosen was
[Lord of the] May, where I did flourish it,
With Scarfs and Rings, and Poesie in my hand:
Af[t]er this action I preferred was,
And chosen City-Captain at Mile-end,
With Hat and Feather, and with leading staff,
And train'd my men, and brought them all off clear
Save one man that beraid him with the noise.
But all these things I Ralph did undertake,
Only for my beloved Susan's sake.
Then coming home, and sitting in my shop
With Apron blew, Death came unto my stall
To cheapen Aquavitæ; but e'r I
Could take the bottle down, and fill a taste,
[Death] caught a pound of Pepper in his hand,
And sprinkled all my Face and Body o'r,
And in an instant vanished away.

Cit. 'Tis a pretty fiction i'faith.

Ralph. Then took I up my Bow and Shaft in hand,
And walkt in[to] Moor-fields, to cool my self,
But there grim cruel death met me again,
And shot this forked Arrow through my head,
And now I faint, therefore be warn'd by me,
My fellows every one, of forked heads.
Farewel all you good boys in merry London,
Ne'r shall we more upon Shrove-Tuesday meet,
And pluck down houses of iniquity.
My pain increaseth: I shall never more
Hold open, whilst another pumps both legs,
Nor daub a Sattin Gown with rotten Eggs:
Set up a stake, Oh never more I shall,
I die, flie, flie my soul to Grocers Hall. oh, oh, oh, &c.

Wife. Well said Ralph, do your obeysance to the Gentlemen, and go your ways well said Ralph. [Exit Ralph.

Old Mer. Methinks all we, thus kindly and unexpectedly reconciled, should not part without a Song.

Merch. A good motion.

Old Mer. Strike up then.

SONG.

Better Musick ne'r was known,
Than a Quire of hearts in one.
Let each other that hath been,
Troubled with the gall or spleen:
Learn of us to keep his brow,
Smooth and plain as ours are now.
Sing though before the hour of dying
He shall rise, and then be crying,
Heyho, 'Tis nought but mirth,
That keeps the bodie from the earth.

[Exeunt omnes.

Epilogus.

Cit. Come Nell, shall we go, the Play's done?

Wife. Nay, by my faith George, I have more manners than so, I'll speak to these Gentlemen first: I thank you all Gentlemen, for your patience and countenance to Ralph, a poor fatherless child, and if I may see you at my house, it should go hard, but I would have a pottle of Wine, and a Pipe of Tobacco for you; for truly I hope you [do] like the youth, but I would be glad to know the truth: I refer it to your own discretions, whether you will applaud him or no, for I will wink, and whilst you shall do what you will, I thank you with all my heart, God give you good night, come George.

Loves Pilgrmage,

a Comedy.

The Persons Represented in the Play.

WOMEN.

The Scene Barcellona and the Road.

Actus Primus, Scæna Prima.

Enter Incubo the Bailiff, Diego the Host.

Inc. Signior Don Diego, and mine Host, save thee.

Die. I thank you Mr. Baily.

Inc. O the block!

Die. Why, how should I have answer'd?

Inc. Not with that
Negligent rudeness: But I kiss your hands
Signior Don Incubo de Hambre, and then
My Titles: Master Baily of Castle-blanco:
Thou ne'r wilt have the elegancy of an Host;
I sorrow for thee, as my friend and Gossip:
No smoak, nor steam out-breathing from the kitchen?
There's little life i'th Hearth then.

Die. I, there, there,
That is his friendship, harkening for the spit,
And sorrow that he cannot smell the pot boil.

Inc. Strange
An Inn should be so curst, and not the sign
Blasted, nor withered; very strange, three days now,
And not an Egg eat in it, nor an Onion.

Die. I think they ha' strew'd the high-ways with caltraps, I,
No horse dares pass 'em; I did never know
A week of so sad doings, since I first
Stood to my Sign-post.

Inc. Gossip, I have found
The root of all: kneel, [pray,] it is thy self
Art cause thereof: each person is the Founder
Of his own fortune, good or bad; but mend it,
Call for thy Cloak, and Rapier.

Die. How?

Inc. Do, call,
And put 'em on in haste: Alter thy fortune,
By appearing worthy of her: Dost thou think
Her good face e'r will know a man in cuerpo?
In single body, thus? in Hose, and Doublet
The horse-boys garb? base blank, and halfe blank cuerpo?
Did I, or Mr Dean of Sivil our neighbor
E'r reach our dignities in cuerpo, think'st thou,
In squirting Hose and Doublet? Signior, no,
There went more to't: there were Cloaks, Gowns, Cassocks,
And other paramentos; Call, I say,
His Cloak, and Rapier here.

Enter Hostess.

Host. What means your Worship?

Inc. Bring forth thy Husbands Sword: so hang it on,
And now his cloak, here cast it up; I mean
Gossip, to change your luck, and bring you guests.

Host. Why? is there charm in this?

Inc. Expect; now walk,
But not the pace of one that runs on errands;
For, want of gravity in an Host, is odious:
You may remember Gossip, if you please,
(Your Wife being then th' Infanta of the Gipsies,
And your self governing a great mans Mules then)
Me a poor Squire at Madrid attending
A Master of Ceremonies; But a man, believe it,
That knew his place to the gold weight, and such
Have I heard him [oft] say, ought every Host
Within the Catholique Kings Dominions
Be in his own house.

Die. How?

Inc. A Master of Ceremonies;
At least Vice-Master, and to do nought in cuerpo,
That was his Maxim, I will tell thee of him:
He would not speak with an Ambassadors Cook,
See a cold bake-meat from a forreign part
In cuerpo: had a dog but staid without,
Or beast of quality, as an English Cow,
But to present it self, he would put on
His Savoy chain about his neck, the ruff
And cuffs of Holland, then the Naples Hat
With the Rome Hat-band, and the Florentin[e] Agat,
The Millan Sword, the Cloak of Genoa, set
With Flemish buttons; all his given pieces
To entertain 'em in, and complement [Knock within.
With a tame Conie, as with the Prince that sent it.

Die. List. Who is there?

Inc. A guest and 't be thy will.

Die. Look Spowse, cry luck, and we be encounter'd: ha?

Host. Luck then, and good, for 'tis a fine brave guest,
With a brave horse.

Inc. Why now, believe of cuerpo.

Enter Theodosia.

As you shall see occasion: go, and meet him.

Theo. Look to my horse, I pray you, well.

Die. He shall, Sir.

Inc. Oh how beneath his rank and call was that now?
Your horse shall be entreated as becomes
A horse of fashion, and his inches.

Theo. Oh.

Inc. Look to the Cavalier: what ails he? stay
If it concern his horse, let it not trouble him,
He shall have all respect the place can yield him
Either of barley, or fresh straw.

Die. Good Sir
Look up.

Inc. He sinks, somewhat to cast upon him,
He'll go away in cuerpo else.

Die. What, Wife!
Oh your hot waters quickly, and some cold
To cast in his sweet face.

Host. Alas, fair flower?

Die. Does any body entertain his Horse?

Host. Yes, Lazaro has him.

Enter Hostess with a glass of water.

Inc. Go you see him in person.

Host. Sir, taste a little of this, of mine own water,
I did distill't my self; swe[e]t Lilly look upon me,
You are but newly blown, my pretty Tulip.
Faint not upon your stalk, 'tis firm and fresh
Stand up so bolt upright, you are yet in growing.

The. Pray you let me have a chamber.

Host. That you shall, Sir.

The. And where I may be private, I intreat you.

Host. For that in troth Sir, we ha no choice: our house
Is but a vent of need, that now and then
Receives a guest, between the greater Towns
As they come late; only one room.

Inc. She means, Sir, it is none
Of those wild, scatter'd heaps, call'd Inns, where scarce
The Host is heard, though he wind his horn t' his people,
Here is a competent pile, wherein the man,
Wife, Servants, all do live within the whistle.

Host. Only one room.

Inc. A pretty modest quadrangle
She will describe to you.

Host. Wherein stands two Beds Sir.

Enter Diego.

We have, and where, if any guest do come,
He must of force be lodg'd, that is the truth, Sir.

Theo. But if I pay you for both your beds, methinks
That should alike content you.

Host. That it shall, Sir.
If I be paid, I am paid.

Theo. Why, there's a Ducket
Will that make your content?

Host. Oh the sweet face on you:
A Ducket? yes, and there were three beds Sir,
And twice so many rooms, which is one more,
You should be private in 'em all, in all Sir,
No one should have a piece of a bed with you
Not master Dean of Sivil himself, I swear.
Though he came naked hither, as once he did
When h' had like t'have been tane a bed with the Moor
And guelt by her Master: you shall be as private,
As if you lay in's own great house that's haunted,
Where no body comes, they say.

Theo. I thank you Hostess.
Pray you, will you shew me in.

Host. Yes marry will I Sir,
And pray that not a flea, or a chink vex you.

[Exit Host. and Theo.

Inc. You forget supper: Gossip: move for supper.

Die. 'Tis strange what love to a beast may do, his Horse
Threw him into this fit.

Inc. You shall excuse me
It was his being in cuerpo, meerly caus'd it.

Die. Do you think so Sir?

Inc. Most unlucky cuerpo.
Naught else, he looks as he would eat Partridge,
This guest; ha' you 'em ready in the house?
And a fine piece of Kid now? and fresh garlick

Enter Hostess.

With Sardinia and Zant Oil? how now?
Has he bespoke, what will he have a brace,
Or but one Partridge, or a short leg'd Hen,
Daintyly carbonado'd?

Host. 'Lass the dead
May be as ready for a supper as he.

Inc. Ha?

Host. He has no mind to eat, more than his shadow.

Inc. Say you.

Die. How does your worship?

Inc. I put on
My left shooe first to day, now I perceive it,
And skipt a bead in saying 'em 'ore; else
I could not be thus cross'd: He cannot be
Above seventeen; one of his years, and have
No better a stomach?

Host. And in such good cloaths too.

Die. Nay, these do often make the stomach worse, wife,
That is no reason.

Inc. I could, at his years, Gossips
(As temperate as you see me now) have eaten
My brace of Ducks, with my half Goose, my Conie,
And drink my whole twelve Marvedis in Wine
As easie as I now get down three Olives.

Die. And, with your temperance-favour, yet I think
Your worship would put to't at six and thirty
For a good wager; and the meal in too.

Inc. I do not know what mine old mouth can do.
I ha not prov'd it lately.

Die. That's the grief, Sir.

Inc. But is he without hope then gone to bed?

Host. I fear so, Sir, h'as lock'd the door close to him
Sure he is very ill.

Inc. That is with fasting,
You should ha told him Gossip, what you had had,
Given him the Inventory of your kitchen,
It is the picklock in an Inn, and often
Opens a close barr'd stomach: what may he be troh?
Has he so good a Horse?

Die. Oh a brave Jennet,
As e'r your worship saw.

Inc. And he eats?

Die. Strongly.

Inc. A mighty Solecisme, heaven give me patience,
What creatures has he?

Host. None.

Inc. And so well cloath'd,
And so well mounted?

Die. That's all my wonder, Sir,
Who he should be; he is attir'd and hors'd
For the Constables Son of Spain.

Inc. My wonders more
He should want appetite: well a good night
To both my Gossips: I will for this time
Put off the thought of supping: In the morning
Remember him of breakfast pray you.

Host. I shall Sir.

Die. A hungry time Sir.

Inc. We that live like mice
On others meat, must watch when we can get it. [Exit Incubo.

Host. Yes, but I would not tell him: Our fair guest
Says, though he eats no supper he will pay for one.

Die. Good news: we'll eat it spouse, t' his health,
'Twas politickly done t'admit no sharers.

Enter Philippo.

Phi. Look to the Mules there, where's mine Host?

Die. Here Sir.
Another Fayerie.

Host. Bless me.

Phi. From what sweet Hostess?
Are you afraid o' your guests?

Host. From Angels, Sir,
I think there's none but such come here to night,
My house had never so good luck afore
For brave, fine guests; and yet the ill luck on't is
I cannot bid you welcome.

Phi. No?

Host. Not lodge you Sir.

Phi. Not, Hostess?

Host. No in troth Sir, I do tell you
Because you may provide in time: my beds
Are both tane up by a young Cavalier
That will and must be private.

Die. He has paid Sir
For all our Chambers.

Host. Which is one: and Beds
Which I already ha told you are two: But Sir,
So sweet a creature, I am very sorry
I cannot lodge you by him; you look so like him
Yo' are both the loveliest pieces.

Phi. What train has he?

Die. None but himself.

Phi. And will no less than both beds
Serve him?

Host. H'as given me a Ducket for 'em.

Phi. Oh.
You give me reason Hostess: Is he handsome,
And young do you say?

Host. Oh Sir, the delicat'st flesh
And finest cloths withal, and such a horse,
With such a Saddle.

Phi. She's in love with all.
The horse and him, and Saddle, and cloths, good woman,
Thou justifiest thy Sex; lov'st all that's brave:

Enter Incubo.

Sure though I lye o'th' ground, I'll stay here now
And have a sight of him: you'll give me house-room,
Fire, and fresh meat, for money, gentle Hostess;
And make me a pallat?

Inc. Sir, she shall do reason....
I understood you had another Guest, Gossips,
Pray you let his Mule be lookt to, have good straw,
And store of bran: And Gossip, do you hear,
Let him not stay for supper: What good Fowl ha' you?
This Gentleman would eat a Pheasant.

Host. 'Lass Sir;
We ha' no such.

Inc. I kiss your hands fair Sir.
What ha you then? speak what you have? I'm one Sir
Here for the Catholique King, an Officer
T' enquire what guests come to these places; you Sir
Appear a person of quality, and 'tis fit
You be accommodated: why speak you not,
What ha' you Woman? are you afraid to vent
That which you have?

Phil. This is a most strange man;
T' appoint my meat.

Host. The half of a cold hen, Sir,
And a boil'd quarter of Kid, is all i'th' house.

Inc. Why all's but cold; let him see it forth,
Cover, and give the eye some satisfaction,
A Travellers stomach must see bread and salt,
His belly is nearer to him, than his kindred;
Cold hen's a pretty meat Sir.

Phi. What you please;
I am resolv'd t' obey.

Inc. So is your Kid,
With Pepper, Garlick, and the juyce of an Orange:
She shall with Sallads help it, and clean linnen;
Dispatch; what news at Court Sir?

Phi. Faith, new tires
Most of the Ladies have, the men old Suits:
Only the Kings Fool has a new Coat
To serve you.

Inc. I did guess you came from thence, Sir.

Phi. But I do know I did not.

Inc. I mistook Sir.
What hear you of the Archdukes?

Phi. Troth your question.

Enter Hostess and Servants with Table.

Inc. Of the French business, What?

Phi. As much.

Inc. No more?
They say the French: Oh that's well: come, I'll help you:
Have you no Jiblets now? or a broil'd rasher.
Or some such present dish t' assist?

Host. Not any Sir.

Inc. The more your fault: you nev'r should be without
Such aids: what cottage would ha' lack'd a Pheasant
At such a time as this? well, bring your Hen,
And Kid forth quickly.

Phi. That should be my prayer
To scape his Inquisition.

Inc. Sir, the French,
They say are divided 'bout their match with us,
What think you of it.

Phi. As of naught to me, Sir.

Inc. Nay, it's as little to me too: but I love
To ask after these things, to know the affections
Of States and Princes, now and then for bettring.

Phi. Of your own ignorance.

Inc. Yes Sir:

Phi. Many do so.

Inc. I cannot live without it: what do you hear
Of our Indian Fleet; they say they are well return'd.

Phi. I had no venture with 'em Sir; had you?

Enter Hostess and Servants with meat.

Inc. Why do you ask Sir?

Phi. 'Cause it might concern you,
It does not me.

Inc. Oh here's your meat come.

Phi. Thanks,
I welcome it at any price.

Inc. Some stools here,
And bid mine Host bring Wine, I'll try your Kid,
If he be sweet: he looks well, yes, he is good;
I'll carve you Sir.

Phi. You use me too too Princely:
Tast, and carve too.

Inc. I love to do these Offices.

Phi. I think you do: for whose sake?

Inc. For themselves Sir,
The very doing of them is reward.

Phi. 'Had little faith would not believe you, Sir.

Inc. Gossip, some Wine.

Enter Diego with Wine.

Die. Here 'tis: and right St. Martyn.

Inc. Measure me out a glass.

Phi. I love the humanity
Us'd in this place:

Inc. Sir, I salute you here.

Phil. I kiss your hands Sir.

Inc. Good wine, it will beget an appetite:
Fill him, and sit down, Gossip, entertain
Your noble guest here, as becomes your title.

Die. Please you to like this Wine Sir?

Phi. I dislike
Nothing mine Host, but that I may not see
Your conceal'd guest: here's to you.

Die. In good faith Sir;
I wish you as well as him: would you might see him

Inc. And wherefore may he not:

Die. 'Has lock'd himself Sir
Up, and has hir'd both the beds o' my wife
At extraordinary rate.

Phil. I'll give as much
If that will do't, for one, as he for both;
What say you mine Host, the door once open
I'll fling my self upon the next bed to him
And there's an end of me till morning; noise
I will make none

Die. I wish your worship well—but

Inc. His honor is engag'd: And my she-Gossip
Hath past her promise, hath she not?

Die. Yes truly:

Inc. That toucheth to the credit of the house:
Well, I will eat a little, and think: how say you Sir
Unto this brawn o'th' Hen?

Phi. I ha' more mind
To get this bed Sir.

Inc. Say you so: Why then
Giv't me agen, and drink to me: mine Host
Fill him his Wine: thou'rt dull, and dost not praise it,
I eat but to teach you the way Sir.

Phil. Sir:
Find but the way to lodge me in this chamber
I'll give mine Host two Duckets for his bed,
And you Sir two Reals: here's to you—

Inc. Excuse me,
I am not mercenary: Gossip pledge him for me,
I'll think a little more; but ev'n one bit
And then talk on: you cannot interrupt me.

Die. This piece of wine Sir, cost me—

Inc. Stay: I have found:
This little morsel, and then: here's excellent garlick:
Have you not a bunch of grapes now: or some Bacon
To give the mouth a relish?

Die. Wife, do you hear?

Inc. It is no matter: Sir give mine Host your Duckets.

Die. How Sir?

Inc. Do you receive 'em: I will save
The honesty of your house: and yours too Gossip,
And I will lodge the Gentleman: shew the chamber.

Die. Good Sir do you hear.

Inc. Shew me the chamber.

Die. Pray you Sir,
Do not disturb my guests.

Inc. Disturb? I hope
The Catholick King Sir, may command a lodging
Without disturbing in his Vassals house,
For any Minister of his, emploid
In business of the State. Where is the door?
Open the door, who are you there? within?
In the Kings name. [Theodosia within.

Theo. What would you have?

Inc. Your key Sir,
And your door open: I have here command
To lodge a Gentleman, from the Justice, sent
Upon the Kings affairs.

Theod. Kings and necessities
Must be obey'd: the key is under the door.

Inc. How now Sir, are you fitted? you secur'd?

Phi. Your two Reals are grown a piece of Eight.

In[c]. Excuse me Sir.

Phi. 'Twill buy a Hen; and Wine
Sir, for to morrow. [Exit Phil.

Inc. I do kiss your hands Sir.
Well this will bear my charge yet to the Gallies
Where I am owing a Ducket: whither this night
By the Moons leave I'll march: for in the morning
Early, they put from Port St. Maries. [Ex. all but Diego.

Die. Lazaro.

Enter Lazaro.

How do the horses?

Laz. Would you would go and see Sir,
A —— of all Jades, what a clap h'as given me:
As sure as you live Master he knew perfectly
I couzen'd him on's Oats: he lookt upon me
And then he sneer'd, as who should say, take heed sirrah:
And when he saw our half Peck, which you know
Was but an old Court dish, lord how he stampt:
I thought 't had been for joy, when suddenly
He cuts me a back caper with his heels
And takes me just o'th crupper, down came I,
And all my ounce of Oats: Then he neigh'd out
As though he had had a mare by th' tail.

Die. Faith Lazaro
We are t[o] blame to use the poor dumb serviters
So cruelly.

Laz. Yonder's this other Gentleman's horse
Keeping our Lady Eve: the devil a bit
H'as got since he came in yet: there he stands
And looks, and looks, but 'tis your pleasure, Sir,
He shall look lean enough: h'as Hay before him
But 'tis as big as Hemp, and will as soon choak him,
Unless he eat it butter'd: he had four shooes
And good ones when he came: 'tis a strange wonder
With standing still he should cast three.

Die. O Lazaro.
The Devil's in this Trade: truth never knew it
And to the devil we shall travel, Lazaro
Unless we mend our manners: once every week
I meet with such a knock to mollifie me
Sometimes a dozen to awake my conscience
Yet still I sleep securely.

Laz. Certain Master
We must use better dealing.

Die. 'Faith for mine own part
Not to give ill example to our issues,
I could be well content to steal but two girths,
And now and then a saddle-cloth: change a bridle
Only for exercise.

Laz. If we could stay there
There were some hope on's Master: but the devil is
We are drunk so early we mistake whole Saddles
Sometimes a horse; and then it seems to us too
Every poor jade has his whole peck, and tumbles
Up to his ears in clean straw, and every bottle
Shews at the least a dozen; when the truth is, Sir,
There's no such matter, not a smell of Provinder,
Not so much straw as would tie up a horse tail,
Nor any thing i'th' rack, but two old Cobwebs
And so much rotten Hay as had been a hens nest.

Die. Well, these mistakings must be mended, Lazaro,
These apparitions, that abuse our sences,
And make us ever apt to sweep the manger
But put in nothing; these fancies must be forgot
And we must pray it may be reveal'd to us
Whose horse we ought, in conscience, to couzen,
And how, and when; A Parsons Horse may suffer
A little greazing in his teeth, 'tis wholsome;
And keeps him in a sober shuffle: and his Saddle
May want a stirrop, and it may be sworn
His Learning lay on one side, and so broke it:
H'as ever Oats in's Cloak-bag to prevent us
And therefore 'tis a meritorious office
To tythe him soundly.

Laz. And a Grazier may
(For those are pinching puckfoysts, and suspitious)
Suffer a myst before his eyes sometimes too,
And think he sees his horse eat halfe a bushel:
When the truth is, rubbing his gums with salt,
Till all the skin come off: he shall but mumble
Like an old Woman that were chewing Brawn,
And drop 'em out again.

Die. That may do well too,
And no doubt 'tis but venial, But good Lazaro
Have you a care of understanding horses,
[Horses with angry heels, gentlemens horses,]
Horses that know the world: let them have meat
Till their teeth ake; and rubbing till their ribs
Shine like a wenches forehead; they are devils.

Laz. And look into our dealings: as sure as we live
These Courtiers horses are a kind of Welsh Prophets,
Nothing can be hid from 'em: For mine own part
The next I cozen of that kind shall be founder'd,
And of all four too: I'll no more such complements
Upon my crupper.

Die. Steal but a little longer
Till I am lam'd too, and we'll repent together,
It will not be above two daies.

Laz. By that time
I shall be well again, and all forgot Sir.

Die. Why then I'll stay for thee. [Exit.

Scæna Secunda.

Enter Theodosi[a] and Phillipo on several Beds.

Theo. Oh,—ho! oh—ho!

Phi. Ha?

Theo. Oh—oh! heart—heart—heart—heart?

Phil. What's that?

Theo. When wilt thou break?—break, break, break?

Phil. Ha?
I would the voice were strong, or I nearer.

Theo. Shame, shame, eternal shame? what have I done?

Phil. Done?

Theo. And to no end, what a wild journey
Have I more wildly undertaken?

Phil. Journey?

Theo. How, without counsel? care? reason, or fear?

Phil. Whither will this fit carry?

Theo. Oh my folly!

Phil. This is no common sickness.

Theo. How have I left
All I should love, or keep? oh heaven.

Phil. Sir?

Theo. Ha?

Phil. How do you gentle Sir?

Theo. Alas my fortune!

Phil. It seems your sorrow oppresses: please your goodness,
Let me bear half, Sir: a divided burthen
Is so made lighter.

Theo. Oh!

Phil. That sigh betraies
The fulness of your grief.

Theo. I, if that grief
Had not bereft me of my understanding,
I should have well remembred where I was,
And in what company; and clapt a lock
Upon this tongue for talking.

Phil. Worthy Sir
Let it not add to your grief, that I have heard
A sigh or groan come from you: That is all Sir:

The. Good Sir no more: you have heard too much I fear,
Would I had taken Poppy when I spake it.

Phi. It seems you have an ill belief of me
And would have fear'd much more, had you spoke ought
I could interpret. But believe it Sir
Had [I] had means to look into your breast,
And tane you sleeping here, that so securely
I might have read all that your woe would hide
I would not have betraid you.

Theo. Sir, that speech
Is very noble, and almost would tempt
My need to trust you.

Phil. At your own election,
I dare not make my faith so much suspected
As to protest again: nor am I curious
To know more than is fit.

Theo. Sir, I will trust you
But you shall promise Sir to keep your bed,
And whatsoe'r you hear, not to importune
More I beseech you from me.

Phi. Sir I will not.

Theo. Than I am prone to utter.

Phi. My faith for it.

Theo. If I were wise, I yet should hold my peace.
You will be noble?

Phil. You shall make me so
If you'll but think me such.

Theo. I do: then know
You are deceiv'd with whom you have talk'd so long.
I am a most unfortunate lost woman.

Phil. Ha?

Theo. Do not stir Sir: I have here a Sword.

Phil. Not I sweet Lady: of what blood, or name.

Theo. You'll keep your faith.

Phil. I'll perish else.

Theo. Believe then
Of birth too noble for me, so descended—I
am asham'd, no less than I am affrighted.

Phil. Fear not: by all good things, I will not wrong you.

Theo. I am the Daughter of a noble Gentleman
Born in this part of Spain: my fathers name Sir:
But why should I abuse that reverence
When a childs duty has forsaken me.

Phil. All may be mended, in fit time too: speak it.

Theo. Alphonso, sir.

Phil. Alphonso? What's your own name?

Theo. Any base thing you can invent.

Phil. Deal truly.

Theo. They call me Theodosia.

Phil. Ha? and love
Is that that hath chang'd you thus?

Theo. Ye have observ'd me
Too nearly Sir, 'tis that indeed: 'tis love Sir:
And love of him (oh heavens) why should men deal thus?
Why should they use their arts to cozen us?
That have no cunning, but our fears about us?
And ever that too late too; no dissembling
Or double way but doating: too much loving?
Why should they find new oaths, to make more wretches?

Phil. What may his name be?

Theo. Sir, a name that promises
Methinks no such ill usage: Mark-Antonio
A noble neighbors son: Now I must desire ye
To stay a while: else my weak eyes must answer.

Phil. I will:—Are ye yet ready? what is his quality?

Theo. His best a thief Sir: that he would be known by
Is heir to Leonardo, a rich Gentleman:
Next of a handsome body, had heaven made him
A mind fit to it. To this man my fortune,
(My more than purblind fortune) gave my faith,
Drawn to it by as many shews of service
And signs of truth, as ever false tongue utter'd:
Heaven pardon all.

Phil. 'Tis well said: forward Lady.

Theo. Contracted Sir, and by exchange of rings
Our souls deliver'd: nothing left unfinish'd
But the last work, enjoying me, and Ceremony.
For that I must confess was the first wise doubt
I ever made: yet after all this love Sir,
All this profession of his faith; when daily
And hourly I expected the blest Priest
He left me like a dream, as all this story
Had never been, nor thought of, why, I know not;
Yet I have called my conscience to confession,
And every syllable that might offend
I have had in shrift: yet neither loves Law Signior,
Nor tye of Maidens duty, but desiring
Have I transgrest in: left his father too,
Nor whither he is gone, or why departed
Can any tongue resolve me: All my hope
(Which keeps me yet alive, and would perswade me
I may be once more happy, and thus shapes me
A shame to all my modest Sex) is this Sir,
I have a Brother and his old Companion,
Student in Salamanca, there my last hope
If he be yet alive, and can be loving
Is left me to recover him: For which travel
In this Sute left at home of that dear Brothers
Thus as you find me, without fear, or wisdom,
I have wander'd from my Father, fled my friends,
And now am only child of hope and danger:
You are now silent Sir: this tedious story
(That ever keeps me waking) makes you heavy:
'Tis fit it should do so: for that, and I
Can be but troubles.

Phil. No, I sleep not Lady:
I would I could: oh heaven is this my comfort?

Theo. What ail you gentle Sir?

Phil. Oh.

Theo. Why do you groan so?

Phil. I must, I must; oh misery;

Theo. But now Sir,
You were my comfort: if any thing afflict ye
Am not I fit to bear a part on't? and by your own rule?

Phil. No; if you could heal, as you have wounded me,
But 'tis not in your power.

Theo. I fear intemperance.

Phil. Nay, do not seek to shun me: I must see you:
By heaven I must: hoa, there mine Host: a Candle:
Strive not, I will not stir ye.

Theo. Noble Sir
This is a breach of promise.

Phil. Tender Lady
It shall be none but necessary: hoa, there,
Some light, some light for heavens sake.

Theo. Will ye betray me?
Are ye a Gentleman?

Phil. Good woman:

Theo. Sir.

Enter Diego with a light.

Phil. If I be prejudicial to you, curse me.

Dieg. Ye are early stirring Sir.

Phil. Give me your Candle
And so good morrow for a while.

Dieg. Good morrow Sir. [Exit.

Theo. My Brother Don Philippo: nay Sir, kill me
I ask no mercy Sir, for none dare know me,
I can deserve none: As ye look upon me
Behold in infinite these foul dishonors,
My noble Father, then your self, last all
That bear the name of kindred, suffer in me:
I have forgot whose child I am; whose Sister:
Do you forget the pity tied to that:
Let not compassion sway you: you will be then
As foul as I, and bear the same brand with me,
A favourer of my fault: ye have a sword Sir,
And such a cause to kill me in.

Phil. Rise Sister,
I wear no sword for Women: nor no anger
While your fair chastity is yet untouch'd.

Theo. By those bright Stars, it is Sir.

Phil. For my Sister
I do believe ye: and so neer blood has made us
With the dear love I ever bore your virtues
That I will be a Brother to your griefs too:
Be comforted, 'tis no dishonor Sister
To love, nor to love him you do: he is a Gentleman
Of as sweet hopes, as years, as many promises,
As there be growing Truths, and great ones.

Theo. O Sir[!]

Phil. Do not despair.

Theo. Can ye forgive?

Phil. Yes Sister,
Though this be no small error, a far greater.

Theo. And think me still your Sister?

Phil. My dear Sister.

Theo. And will you counsel me?

Phil. To your own peace too:
Ye shall love still.

Theo. How good ye are!

Phil. My business,
And duty to my Father: which now drew me
From Salamanca I will lay aside
And only be your Agent to perswade ye
To leave both love, and him, and well retire ye.

Theo. Oh gentle Brother.

Phil. I perceive 'tis folly:
Delaies in love, more dangerous.

Theo. Noble Brother.

Phil. Fear not, I'll run your own way: and to help you,
Love havi[n]g rackt your passions beyond counsel:
I'll hazard mine own fame: whither shall we venture?

Theo. Alas, I know not Sir!

Phil. Come, 'tis bright morning
Let's walk out, and consider: you'll keep this habit.

Theo. I would Sir.

Phil. Then it shall be: what must I call ye?
Come, do not blush: pray speak, I may spoil all else.

Theo. Pray call me Theodoro.

Enter Diego.

Dieg. Are ye ready?
The day draws on apace: once more good morrow.

Theo. Good morrow gentle Host: now I must thank ye:

Phil. Who dost thou think this is?

Die. Were you a wench Sir,
I think you would know before me.

Phil. Mine own Brother.

Dieg. By th' Masse your noses are akin: should I then
Have been so barbarous to have parted Brothers?

Phi. You knew it then.

Dieg. I knew 'twas necessary
You should be both together: Instinct Signior,
Is a great matter in an Host.

Theo. I am satisfied.

Enter Pedro.

Ped. Is not mine Host up yet?

Phi. Who's that?

Die. I'll see.

Phil. Sister, withdraw your self.

Ped. Signior Philippo.

Phil. Noble Don Pedro, where have you been this way?

Ped. I came from Port St. Maries, whence the Gallies
Put this last tide, and bound for Barcelona,
I brought Mark-antonie upon his way.

Phi. Marc-antonie?

Ped. Who is turn'd Soldier,
And entertain'd in the new Regiment,
For Naples.

Phi. Is it possible?

Ped. I assure you.

Phi. And put they in at Barcelona?

Ped. So
One of the Masters told me.

Phi. Which way go you Sir?

Ped. Home.

Phi. And I for Sivil: pray you Sir; say not
That you saw me, if you shall meet the question,
I have some little business.

Ped. Were it less Sir.
It shall not become me, to lose the caution:
Shall we breakfast together?

Phi. I'll come to you Sir:
Sister you hear this: I believe your fortune
Begins to be propitious to you: we will hire
Mules of mine Host here: if we can, himself
To be our guide, and straight to Barcelona,
This was as happy news, as unexpected
Stay you till I rid him away.

Theo. I will. [Exeunt.

Actus Secundus. Scæna Prima.

Enter Alphonso and a Servant.

Alph. Knock at the door.

Ser. 'Tis open Sir.

Alph. That's all one,
Knock when I bid you.

Ser. Will not your Worship enter?

Alph. Will not you learn more manners Sir, and do that
Your Master bids ye; knock ye knave, or I'll knock
Such a round peal about your pate: I enter
Under his roof, or come to say god save ye
To him, the Son of whose base dealings has undone me?
Knock louder, louder yet: I'll starve, and rot first,
This open air is every mans.
2 Ser. within. Come in Sir.

Enter two Servants.

Alph. No, no Sir, I am none of these Come in Sirs,
None of those visitants: bid your wise Master
Come out, I have to talk unto him: go Sir.

2 Ser. Your worship may be welcome.

Alph. Sir, I will not,
I come not to be welcome: good my three Duckets,
My pickell'd sprat a day, and no oil to't,
And once a year a cotten coat, leave prating
And tell your Master I am here.

2 Ser. I will Sir.
This is a strange old man. [Exit.

Alph. I welcome to him?
I'll be first welcome to a Pesthouse: Sirrah
Let's have your valour now cas'd up, and quiet
When an occasion calls, 'tis wisdom in ye,
A Servingman's discretion: if you do draw,

Enter Leonardo, and Don Zanchio (carried by two Servants in a chair.)

Draw but according to your entertainment;
Five Nobles worth of fury.

Leo. Signior Alphonso,
I hope no discontent from my Will given,
Has made ye shun my house: [I ever lov'd ye.]
An credit me amongst my fears 'tis greatest
To minister offences.

Alph. O good Signior
I know ye for Italian breed, fair tongu'd,
Spare your Apologies, I care not for 'em,
As little for your love Sir; I can live
Without your knowledge, eat mine own, and sleep
Without dependences, or hopes upon ye.
I come to ask my Daughter.

Leo. Gentle Sir.

Alph. I am not gentle Sir, nor gentle will be
Till I have justice, my poor child restor'd
Your caper-cutting boy has run away with.
Young Signior smooth-face, he that takes up wenches
With smiles, and sweet behaviors, Songs, and Sonnets,
Your high fed Jennet, that no hedge can hold
They say you bred him for a Stallion.

Zanch. Fie Signior, there be times, and terms of honor
To argue these things in, descidements able
To speak ye noble Gentlemen, ways punctual
And to the life of credit, ye are too rugged.

Alph. I am too tame Sir.

Leo. Will ye hear but reason?

Alph. No, I will hear no reason: I come not hither
To be popt off with reason; reason then.

Zanch. Why Signior, in all things there must be method,
Ye choak the child of honor else, discretion,
Do you conceive an injury?

Alph. What then Sir?

Zanch. Then follow it in fair terms, let your sword bite
When time calls, not your tongue.

Alph. I know Sir
Both when and what to do without directions,
And where, and how, I come not to be tutor'd,
My cause is no mans but mine own: you Signior,
Will ye restore my Daughter?

Leo. Who detains her?

Alph. No more of these slight shifts.

Leo. Ye urge me Signior
With strange injustice: because my Son has err'd—

Zanch. Mark him.

Leo. Out of the heat of youth: dos't follow
I must be father of his crimes?

Alph. I say still.
Leave off your Rhetorick, and restore my Daughter.
And suddainly: bring in your rebel too,
Mountdragon, he that mounts without commission
That I may see him punished, and severely,
Or by that holy Heaven, I'll fire your house,
And there's my way of honor.

Zanch. Pray give me leave
Was not man made the noblest creature?

Alph. Well Sir.

Zanch. Should not his mind then answer to his making,
And to his mind his actions, if this ought to be,
Why do we run a blind way from our worths,
And cancel our discretions, doing those things
To cure offences, are the most offences?
We have rules of justice in us; to those rules
Let us apply our angers: you can consider
The want in others of these terminations
And how unfurnish'd they appear.

Alph. Hang others,
And where the wrongs are open, hang respects,
I come not to consider.

Leo. Noble Sir,
Let us argue cooly, and consider like men.

Alph. Like men!

Leo. Ye are too sudain still.

Alph. Like men Sir?

Zanch. It is fair language, and ally'd to honor.

Alph. Why, what strange beast would your grave reverence
Make me appear? like men!

Zanch. Taste but that point Sir,
And ye recover all.

Alph. I tell thy wisdom
I am as much a man, and as good a man.

Leo. All this is granted Sir.

Alph. As wise a man.

Zanch. Ye are not tainted that way.

Alph. And a man
Dares make thee no man; or at best, a base man.

Zanch. Fie, fie, here wants much carriage.

Alph. Hang much carriage.

Leo. Give me good language.

Alph. Sirrah Signior, Give me my Daughter.

Leo. I am as gentle as your self, as free born.

Zanch. Observe his way.

Leo. As much respect ow'd to me.

Zanch. This hangs together nobly.

Leo. And for Civil,
A great deal more it seems: go look your Daughter.

Zanch. There ye went well off Signior.

Leo. That rough tongue
You understand at first: you never think Sir
Out of your mightiness, of my loss: here I stand
A patient Anvil, to your burning angers
Made subject to your dangers; yet my loss equal:
Who shall bring home my Son?

Alph. A whipping Beadle.

Leo. Why, is your Daughter whorish?

Alph. Ha, thou dar'st not,
By heaven I know thou dar'st not.

Leo. I dare more Sir
If you dare be uncivil.

Alph. Laugh too, Pidgeon.

Zanch. A [f]itter time for fames sake: two weak Nurses
Would laugh at this; are there no more days coming,
No ground but this to argue on? no swords left
Nor friends to carry this, but your own furies?
Alas! it shows too weakly.

Alph. Let it show,
I come not here for shews: laugh at me sirrah?
I'll give ye cause to laugh.

Leo. Ye are as like sir
As any man in Spain.

Alph. By heaven I will,
I will brave Leonardo.

Leo. Brave Alphonso.
I will expect it then.

Zanch. Hold ye there both,
These terms are noble.

Alph. Ye shall hear shortly from me.

Zanch. Now discreetly.

Alph. Assure your self ye shall: do ye see this sword sir?
He has not cast his teeth yet.

Zanch. Rarely carried.

Alph. He bites deep: most times mortal: Signior
I'll hound him at the fair and home.

Zanch. Still nobly.

Alph. And at all those that dare maintain ye.

Zanch. Excellent.

Leo. How you shall please sir, so it be fair, though certain,
I had rather give you reason.

Zanch. Fairly urg'd too.

Alph. This is no age for reason; prick your reason
Upon your swords point.

Zanch. Admirably follow'd.

Alph. And there I'll hear it: so till I please, live Sir. [Exit.

Leo. And so farewel, you're welcome.

Zanch. The end crowns all things
Signior, some little business past, this cause I'll argue
And be a peace between ye, if't so please ye,
And by the square of honor to the utmost:
I feel the old man's master'd by much passion,
And too high rackt, which makes him overshoot all
His valour should direct at, and hurt those
That stand but by as blenchers: this he must know too,
As necessary to his judgement, doting women
Are neither safe nor wise adventurers: conceive me,
If once their will have wander'd; nor is't then
A time to use our rages: for why should I
Bite at the stone, when he that throws it wrongs me?
Do not we know that Women are most wooers
Though closest in their carriage? Do not all men know,
Scarce all the compass of the Globe can hold 'em
If their affections be afoot? shall I then covet
The follies of a she-fool, that by nature
Must seek her like, by reason, be a woman,
Sink a tall ship, because the sails defie me?
No, I disdain that folly; he that ventures
Whilst they are fit to put him on, has found out
The everlasting motion in his scabbard.
I doubt not to make peace: and so for this time
My best love, and remembrance.

Leo. Your poor Servant. [Exeunt.

Scæna Secunda.

Enter Diego, Philippo, and Theodosia.

Phil. Where will our Horses meet us?

Diego. Fear not you Sir,
Some half mile hence my worships man will stay us,
How is it with my young bloods? come, be jovial,
Let's travel like a merry flock of wild Geese,
Every tongue talking.

Phil. We are very merry;
But do you know this way, Sir?

Theo. Is't not dangerous?
Methinks these woody thickets should harbor knaves.

Die. I fear none but fair wenches; those are thieves,
May quickly rob me of my good conditions,
If they cry Stand once: but the best is Signiors
They cannot bind my hands: for any else,
They meet an equal knave, and there's my Passport:
I have seen fine sport in this place: had these three tongues,
They would tell ye pretty matters: do not you fear, though
They are not every daies delights.

Phil. What sport Sir?

Die. Why to say true, the sport of all sports.

Phil. What was't?

Die. Such turning up of Taffataes; and you know
To what rare whistling tunes they go, far beyond
A soft wind in the shrowds: such stand there,
And down i'th' other place; such supplications
And subdivisions for those toys their honors,
One, as ye are a Ge[n]tleman in this bush,
And oh sweet Sir, what mean ye? there's a bracelet,
And use me I beseech ye like a woman;
And her petition's heard: another scratches,
And cries she will die first, and then swounds: but certain
She is brought to life again, and does well after.
Another, save mine honor, oh mine honor,
My Husband serves the Duke, Sir, in his kitchen;
I have a cold pie for ye; fie, fie, fie Gentlemen,
Will nothing satisfie, where's my Husband?
Another cries, do ye see Sir how they use me,
Is there no Law for these things?

Theo. And good mine Host,
Do you call these fine sports?

Die. What should I call 'em,
They have been so call'd these thousand years and upwards.

Phil. But what becomes o'th' men?

Die. They're stript and bound,
Like so many Adams, with fig-leaves afore 'em,
And there's their innocence.

Theo. Would we had known this!
Before we reacht this place.

Phil. Come, there's no danger,
These are but sometimes chances.

Enter Bailiff.

Host. Now we must through.

Theo. Who's that?

Host. Stand to it Signiors.

Phil. No it needs not,
I know the face; 'tis honest.

Bayl. What mine Host:
Mine everlasting honest Host.

Host. Mass Baily:
Now in the name of an ill reckoning
What make you walking this round?

Bayl. A —— of this round,
And of all business too, through woods, and rascals,
They have rounded me away a dozen Duckets,
Besides a fair round Cloak: Some of 'em knew me,
Else they had cased me like a Cunnie too,
As they have done the rest, and I think roasted me,
For they began to baste me soundly: my young Signiors,
You may thank heaven, and heartily, and hourly,
You set not out so early; ye had been smoak'd else
By this true hand [y]e had Sirs, finely smoak'd,
Had ye been Women, smockt too.

Theo. Heaven defend us.

Bayl. Nay, that had been no prayer, there were those
That run that prayer out of breath, yet fail'd too.
There was a Fryer, now ye talk of prayer,
With a huge bunch of Beads, like a rope of Onions:
I am sure as big, that out of fear and prayer,
In halfe an hour, wore 'em as small as Bugles,
Yet he was flead too.

Phil. At what hour was this?

Bayl. Some two hours since.

Theo. Do you think the passage sure now.

Bayl. Yes, a rope take 'em, as it will, and bless 'em,
They have done for this day sure.

Phil. Are many rifled?

Bayl. At the least a dozen,
And there left bound.

Theo. How came you free?

Bayl. A curtesie
They use out of their rogueships, to bequeath
To one, that when they give a sign from far
Which is from out of danger; he may presently
Release the rest, as I met you, I was going,
Having the sign from yonder hill to do it.

Theo. Alas poor men.

Phil. Mine Host, pray go untie 'em.

Die. Let me alone for cancelling: where are they?

Bayl. In every bush, like black birds, you cannot miss 'em.

Die. I need not stalk unto 'em. [Exit.

Bayl. No, they'l stand ye,
My busie life for yours Sir: you would wonder
To see the several tricks and strange behaviours
Of the poor rascals in their miseries,
One weeps, another laughs at him for weeping,
A third is monstrous angry, he can laugh
And cries, go too, this is no time; he laughs still,
A fourth exhorts to patience: him a fifth man
Curses for tameness; him a Fryer schools,
All hoot the Fryer, here one sings a Ballad,
And there a little Curate confutes him,
And in this linsey-woolsey way, that would make a dog
Forget his dinner, or an old man fire,
They rub out for their ransoms: Amongst the rest,
There is a little boy rob'd, a fine child,
It seems a Page: I must confess my pitty
(As 'tis a hard thing in a man of my place)
To shew compassion, stirr'd at him, so finely
And without noise he carries his afflictions,
And looks as if he had but dreamt of losing.

Enter Host and Leocadia, and others as rob'd.

This boy's the glory of this robbery,
The rest but shame the action: now ye may hear 'em.

Host. Come lads, 'tis Holy-day: hang cloaths, 'tis hot,
And sweating Agues are abroad.

1. It seems so;
For we have met with rare Physitians
To cure us of that malady.

Host. Fine footing,
Light and deliver: now my boys: Master Fryer,
How does your Holiness, bear up man; what
A cup of neat Sack now and a toast: ha, Fryer,
A warm plaister to your belly Father,
There were a blessing now.

Fryer. Ye say your mind Sir.

Host. Where my fine Boy: my poynter.

Bayl. There's the wonder.

Host. A rank whore scratch their sides till the pox follow
For robbing thee, thou hast a thousand ways
To rob thy self boy, Dice, and a Chamber-Devil.

Leo. Ye are deceiv'd Sir.

Host. And thy Master too boy.

Phil. A sweet-fac'd boy indeed: what rogues were these?
What barbarous, brutish slaves to strip this beauty?

Theo. Come hither my boy: alas! he's cold, mine Host,
We must intreat your Cloak.

Host. Can ye intreat it.

Phil. We do presume so much, you have other garments.

Host. Will you intreat those too?

Theo. Your Mule must too,
To the next Town, you say 'tis near: in pitty
You cannot see this poor Boy perish.
I know ye have a better soul, we'll satisfie ye.

Host. 'Tis a strange foolish trick I have, but I cannot help it,
I am ever cozen'd with mine own commendations;
It is determin'd then I shall be robb'd too.
To make up vantage to this dozen: here Sir,
Heaven has provided ye a simple garment
To set ye off: pray keep it handsomer
Than you kept your own; and let me have it render'd,
Brush'd and discreetly folded.

Leo. I thank ye Sir.

Host. Who wants a Doublet?

2. I.

Host. Where will you have it?

2. From you Sir, if you please.

Host. Oh, there's the point, Sir.

Phil. My honest friends, I am sorry for your fortunes,
But that's but poor relief: here are ten Duckets,
And to your distribution, holy Sir,
I render 'em: and let it be your care
To see 'em, as your wants are, well divided.

Host. Plain dealing now my friends: and Father Fryer,
Set me the Sadle right; no wringing Fryer,
Nor tithing to the Church, these are no duties;
Scour me your conscience, if the Devil tempt ye
Off with [y]our cord, and swinge him.

Fry. Ye say well Sir.

All. Heaven keep your goodness.

Theo. Peace keep you, farewel friends.

Host. Farewel light-Horse-men. [Ex. the rob'd.

Phil. Which way travel you Sir.

Bayl. To the next Town.

Theo. Do you want any thing.

Bayl. Only discretion to travel at good hours,
And some warm meat to moderate this matter,
For I am most outragious cruel hungry.

Host. I have a stomach too such as it is.
Would pose a right good pasty, I thank heaven for't.

Bayl. Cheese, that would break the teeth of a new handsaw,
I could endure now like an Oastrich, or salt beef,
That Cesar left in pickel.

Phil. Take no care,
We'll have meat for you, and enough: I'th' mean time
Keep you the horse way, lest the fellow miss us,
We'll meet ye at the end o'th' wood.

Host. Make haste then. [Ex. Host and Bayl.

Theo. My pretty Sir till your necessities
Be full supplied, so please you trust our friendships,
We must not part.

Leo. Ye have pull'd a charge upon ye,
Yet such a one as ever shall be thankful.

Phil. Ye have said enough, may I be bold to ask ye,
What Province you were bred in? and of what Parents?

Leo. Ye may Sir: I was born in Andaluzia,
My name Francisc[o], son to Don Henriques
De Cardinas.

Theo. Our noble neighbor.

Phil. Son to Don Henriques?
I know the Gentleman: and by your leave Sir,
I know he has no son.

Leo. None of his own Sir,
Which makes him put that right upon his Brother
Don Zanchio's child[ren]: one of which I am,
And therefore do not much err.

Phil. Still ye do Sir,
For neither has Don Zanchio any son;
A Daughter, and a rare one is his heir,
Which though I [n]ever was so blest to see,
Yet I have heard great good of.

Theo. Urge no further,
He is ashamed, and blushes.

Phil. Sir,
If it might import you to conceal your self,
I ask your mercy, I have been so curious:

Leo. Alas! I must ask yours Sir: for these lies,
Yet they were useful ones; for by the claiming
Such noble parents, I believ'd your bounties
Would shew more gracious: The plain truth is Gentlemen,
I am Don Zanchio's Stewards son, a wild boy,
That for the fruits of his unhappiness,
Is faign to seek the wars.

Theo. This is a lie too.
If I have any ears.

Phil. Why?

Theo. Mark his language,
And ye shall find it of too sweet a relish
For one of such a breed: I'll pawn my hand,
This is no boy.

Phil. No boy? what would you have him?

Theo. I know, no boy: I watcht how fearfully,
And yet how suddainly he cur'd his lies,
The right wit of a Woman: Now I am sure.

Phil. What are ye sure?

Theo. That 'tis no boy: I'll burn in't.

Phil. Now I consider better, and take council,
Methinks he shows more sweetness in that face,
Than his fears dare deliver.

Theo. No more talk on't,
There hangs some great weight by it: soon at night
I'll tell ye more.

Phil. Come Sir, what e'r you are
With us, embrace your liberty, and our helps
In any need you have.

Leo. All my poor service
Shall be at your command Sir, and my prayers.

Phil. Let's walk apace; hunger will cut their throats else.

[Exeunt.

Scæna Tertia.

Enter Rodorigo, Mark-antonio, and a Ship-master, two Chairs set out.

Rod. Call up the Master.

Mast. Here Sir.

Rod. Honest Master,
Give order all the Gallies with this tyde
Fall round, and near upon us; that the next wind
We may weigh off together, and recover
The Port of Bar[c]elona, without parting.

Mast. Your pleasure's done Sir. [Ex.

Rod. Signior Mark-antonio,
Till meat be ready, let's sit here and prepare
Our stomachs with discourses.

Mar[c]. What you please Sir.

Rod. Pray ye answer me to this doubt.

Marc. If I can Sir.

Rod. Why should such plants as you are; pleasure children,
That owe their blushing years to gentle objects,
Tenderly bred, and brought up in all fulness,
Desire the stubborn wars?

Marc. In those 'tis wonder,
That make their ease their god, and not their honor:
But noble General my end is other,
Desire of knowledge Sir, and hope of tying
Discretion to my time, which only shews me,
And not my years, a man, and makes that more
Which we call handsome, the rest is but Boys beauty,
And with the Boy consum'd.

Rod. Ye argue well Sir.

Mar. Nor do I wear my youth, as they wear breeches,
For object, but for use: my strength for danger,
Which is the liberal part of man, not dalliance,
The wars must be my Mistress Sir.

Rod. Oh Signior,
You'll find her a rough wench.

Mar. When she is won once,
She'll show the sweeter Sir.

Rod. You can be pleas'd, though
Sometimes to take a tamer?

Mar. 'Tis a truth Sir,
So she be handsome, and not ill condition'd.

Rod. A Soldier should not be so curious.

Marc. I can make shift with any for a heat Sir.

Rod. Nay, there you wrong your youth too: and however
You are pleas'd to appear to me, which shews well Signior,
A tougher soul than your few years can testifie:
Yet, my young Sir, out of mine own experience
When my spring was, I am able to confute ye,
And say, y' had rather come to th' shock of eies,
And boldly march up to your Mistriss mouth,
Then to the Cannons.

Mar. That's as their lading is Sir.

Rod. There be Trenches
Fitter and warmer for your years, and safer
Than where the bullet plaies.

Mar. Ther's it I doubt Sir.

Rod. You'll easily find that faith: But come, be liberal,
What kind of Woman, could you make best wars with?

Mar. They are all but heavy marches.

Rod. Fie Marckantonio,
Beauty in no more reverence?

Mar. In the Sex Sir,
I honor it, and next to honor, love it,
For there is only beauty; and that sweetness
That was first meant for modesty: sever it
And put it in one woman, it appears not,
'Tis of too rare a nature, she too gross
To mingle with it.

Rod. This is a meer heresie.

Mar[c]. Which makes 'em ever mending; for that gloss
That cozens us for beauty, is but bravery,
An outward shew of things well set, no more:
For heavenly beauty, is as heaven it self Sir,
Too excellent for object, and what is seen
Is but the vail then, airy clouds; grant this
It may be seen, 'tis but like stars in twinklings.

Rod. 'Twas no small study in their Libraries
Brought you to this experience: But what think ye
Of that fair red and white, which we call Beauty?

Mar. Why? 'tis our creature Sir, we give it 'em,
Because we like those colours, else 'tis certain
A blew face with a motley nose would do it;
And be as great a beauty, so we lov'd it;
That we cannot give, which is only beauty,
Is a fair Mind.

Rod. By this rule, all our choices
Are to no ends.

Marc. Except the dull end, Doing.

Rod. Then all to you seem equal?

Marc. Very true Sir,
And that makes equal dealing: I love any
That's worth love.

Rod. How long love ye Signior?

Marc. Till I have other business.

Rod. Do you never
Love stedfastly one woman?

Mar. 'Tis a toil Sir
Like riding in one rode perpetually,
It offers no variety.

Rod. Right youth,
He must needs make a Soldier; nor do you think
One Woman, can love one man?

Mar. Yes, that may be.
Though it appear not often; they are things ignorant,
And therefore apted to that superstition
Of doting fondness; yet of late years Signior,
That worlds well mended with 'em, fewer are found now
That love at len[g]th, and to the right mark, all
Stir now [as] the time stirs; fame and fashion
Are ends they aim at now, and to make that love
That wiser ages held ambition;
They that cannot reach this may love by Index;
By every days surveying who best promises,
Who has done best, who may do, and who mended
May come to do again: who appear nearest
Either in new stampt clothes; or courtesies,
Done but from hand to mouth neither; nor love they these things
Longer than new are making, nor that succession
Beyond the next fair feather: Take the City,
There they go to't by gold weight, no gain from 'em
All they can work by fire and water to 'em,
Profit is all they point at, if there be love
'Tis shew'd ye by so dark a light, to bear out
The bracks and old stains in it, that ye may purchase
French Velvet better cheap, all loves are endless.

Rod. Faith, if you have a Mistriss, would she heard you.

Mar. 'Twere but the vent'ring of my place, or swearing
I meant it but for argument, as Schoolmen
Dispute high questions.

Rod. What a world is this
When young men dare determine what those are
Age and the best experience ne'r could aim at.

Marc. They were thick ey'd then Sir; now the print is bigger
And they may read their fortunes without spectacles.

Rod. Did you ne'r love?

Mar. Faith yes, once after supper,
And the fit held till midnight.

Rod. Hot, or shaking.

Mar. To say true, both.

Rod. How did ye rid it?

Mar. Thus Sir,
I laid my hand upon my heart, and blest me
And then said over certain charms I had learn'd
Against mad dogs, for love and they are all one;
Last thought upon a windmil, and so slept,
And was well ever after.

Rod. A rare Physitian,
What would your practise gain ye?

Mar. The wars ended,
I mean to use my Art, and have these fools
Cut in the head like Cats, to save the kingdom,
Another Inquisition.

Rod. So old a Soldier
Out of the wars, I never knew yet practised.

Mar. I shall mend every day; but noble General,
Believe this, but as this you nam'd discourses.

Rod. Oh ye are a cunning Gamester.

Mar. Mirths and toys
To cosin time withal, for o' my troth Sir,
I can love; I think, well too; well enough
And think as well of women as they are,
Pretty fantastick things, some more regardful,
And some few worth a service: I am so honest,
I wish 'em all in heaven, and you know how hard Sir
'Twill be to get in there with their great farthingals.

Rod. Well Mark-antonio, I would not loose thy company
For the best Galley I command.

Marc. Faith General,
If these discourses please ye, I shall fit ye
Once every day. [Knock within.

Rod. Thou canst not please me better: hark, they call
Below to dinner: ye are my Cabbin guest,
My bosom's, so you please Sir.

Marc. Your poor Servant. [Exeunt.

Scæna Quarta.

Enter second Host, and his Wife.

Host. Let 'em have meat enough Woman, half a Hen;
There be old rotten Pilchards, put 'em off too,
'Tis but a little new anointing of 'em.
And a strong onion, that confounds the stink.

Host[ess]. They call for more Sir.

Host. Knock a dozen eggs down,
But then beware your wenches.

Host[ess]. More than this too?

Host. Worts, worts, and make 'em porridge: pop 'em up wench
But they shall pay for Cullyses.

Host[ess]. All this is nothing;
They call for Kid and Partridge.

Host. Well remembred,
Where's the Faulconers half dog he left?

Host[ess]. It stinks Sir,
Past all hope that way.

Host. Run it o'r with Garlick,
And make a Roman dish on't.

Host[ess]. Pray ye be patient,
And get provision in; these are fine gentlemen,
And liberal gentlemen; they have unde quare
No mangey Muleters, nor pinching Posts,
That feed upon the parings of Musk-millions
And Radishes, as big and tough as Rafters:
Will ye be stirring in this business? here's your brother,
Mine old Host of Ossuna, as wise as you are,
That is, as knavish; if ye put a trick,
Take heed he do not find it.

Host. I'll be wagging.

Host[ess]. 'Tis for your own commodity: why wenches:

[Serv.] Anon forsooth. [within.

Hostess. Who makes a fire there? and who gets in water?
Let Oliver goe to the Justice, and beseech his Worship
We may have two spits going; and do you hear Druce,
Let him invite his Worship, and his Wives Worship,
To the left-Meat to morrow.

Enter Bayliff.

Bayl. Where's this Kitchen?

Hostess. Even at the next door Signior: what old Don?
We meet but seldom.

Bayl. Prethee be patient Hostess,
And tell me where the meat is.

Host[ess]. Faith Master Baylie,
How have ye done? and how man?

Bayl. Good sweet Hostess,
What shall we have to dinner?

Hostess. How does your woman,
And a fine Woman she is, and a good Woman;
Lord, how you bear your years!

Bayl. Is't Veal or Mutton,
Beef, Bacon, Pork, Kid, Pheasant, or all these,
And are they ready all?

Host[ess]. The hours that have been
Between us two, the merry hours: Lord!

Bayl. Hostess,
Dear Hostess do but hear; I am hungry.

Hostess. Ye are merrily dispos'd Sir.

Bayl. Monstrous hungry,
And hungry after much meat, I have brought hither
Right worshipful to pay the reckoning,
Money enough too with 'em, desire enough
To have the best meat, and of that enough too:
Come to the point sweet wench, and so I kiss thee.

Hostess. Ye shall have any thing, and instantly
E'r you can lick your ears, Sir.

Bayl. Portly meat,
Bearing substantial stuff, and fit for hunger
I do beseech ye Hostess first, then some light garnish,
Two Pheasants in a dish, if ye have Leverits,
Rather for way of ornament, than appetite
They may be look'd upon, or Larks: for Fish,
As there is no great need, so I would not wish ye
To serve above four dishes, but those full ones;
Ye have no Cheese of Parma?

Hostess. Very old Sir.

Bayl. The less will serve us, some ten pound.

Hostess. Alas Sir,
We have not halfe these dainties.

Bayl. Peace good Hostess,
And make us hope ye have.

Hostess. Ye shall have all Sir,

Bay. That may be got for money.

Enter Diego, the Host, and a Boy.

Host. Diego. Where's your Master?
Bring me your Master, Boy: I must have liquor
Fit for the Mermydons; no dashing now child
No conjurings by candle light, I know all;
Strike me the oldest Sack, a piece that carries
Point blank to this place boy, and batters; Hostess,
I kiss thy hands through which many a round reckoning
And things of moment have had motion.

Hostess. Still mine old Brother.

Host. Die. Set thy Seller open,
For I must enter, and advance my Colours,
I have brought th[ee] Dons indeed wench, Dons with Duckets
And those Dons must have dainty Wine, pure Bacchus
That bleeds the life blood: what is your cure ended?

Bayl. We shall have Meat man.

Host. Die. Then we will have Wine man,
And Wine upon Wine, cut and drawn with Wine.

Hostess. Ye shall have all, and more than all.

Bay. All, well then.

Host. Die. Away, about your business, you with her
For old acquaintance sake, to stay your stomach. Exit Hostess and Bayliff.
And Boy, be you my guide, ad inferos,
For I will make a full descent in equipage.

Boy. I'll shew you rare Wine.

Host. Die. Stinging geer.

Boy. Divine Sir.

Host. Die. O divine boy, march, march my child, rare Wine boy.

Boy. As any is in Spain Sir.

Host. Die. Old; and strong too,
Oh my fine boy, clear too?

Boy. As Christal Sir, and strong as truth.

Host. Die. Away boy,
I am enamor'd, and I long for Dalliance,
Stay no where child, not for thy fathers blessing,
I charge thee not to save thy Sisters honor,
Nor to close thy Dames eies, were she a dying
Till we arrive, and for thy recompence
I will remember thee in my Will.

Boy. Ye have said Sir. [Exeunt.

Actus Tertius. Scæna Prima.

Enter Philippo, and 2 Host.

Phi. Mine Host, is that Apparel got ye spoke of?
Ye shall have ready money.

2 Host. 'Tis come in, Sir, he has it on Sir
And I think 'twill be fit, and o' my credit
'Twas never worn but once Sir, and for necessity
Pawn'd to the man I told ye of.

Phi. Pray bargain for it,
And I will be the pay-master.

2 Host. I will Sir.

Phi. And let our meat be ready when you please,
I mean as soon.

2 Host. It shall be presently.

Phi. How far stands Barcelona?

2 Host. But two Leagues off Sir,
You may be there by three a clock.

Phi. I am glad on't. [Exeunt.

Scæna Secunda.

Enter Theodosia, and Leocadia.

Theo. Signior Francisco, why I draw you hither
To this remote place, marvel not, for trust me
My innocence yet never knew ill dealing,
And as ye have a noble temper, start not
Into offence, at any thing my knowledge,
And for your special good, would be inform'd of,
Nor think me vainly curious.

Leo. Worthy Sir,
The courtesies you and your noble Brother,
Even then when few men find the way to do 'em,
I mean in want, so freely showr'd upon me,
So truly, and so timely minister'd,
Must, if I should, suspect those minds that made 'em,
Either proclaim me an unworthy taker,
Or worse, a base beleever; Speek your mind Sir
Freely, and what you please, I am your Servant.

The. Then my young Sir know, since our first acquaintance
Induc'd by circumstances that deceive not
To clear some doubts I have; nay blush not Signior,
I have beheld ye narrowly: more blushes.
Sir, ye give me so much light, I find ye
A thing confest already: yet more blushes?
You would ill cover an offence might sink ye
That cannot hide your self; why do ye shake so?
I mean no trouble to ye; this fair hand
Was never made for hardness, nor those eies
(Come do not hide 'em,) for rough objects, harke ye,
Ye have betraid your self, that sigh confirms me;
Another? and a third too? then I see
These boys cloths do but pinch ye, come, be liberal,
Ye have found a friend that has found you, disguise not
That loaden soul that labors to be open:
Now you must weep, I know it, for I see
Your eies down laden to the lids, another
Manifest token that my doubts are perfect;
Yet I have found a greater; tell me this
Why were these holes left open, there was an error,
A foul one my Francisco, have I caught ye?
Oh pretty Sir, the custom of our Countrey
Allows men none in this place: Now the show'r comes.

Leo. Oh Signior Theodoro.

Theo. This sorrow shows so sweetly
I cannot choose but keep it company:
Take truce and speak Sir: and I charge your goodness
By all those perfect hopes that point at virtue
By that remembrance these fair tears are shed for,
If any sad misfortune have thus form'd ye,
That either care or counsel may redeem,
Pain, purse, or any thing within the power
And honor of free gentlemen, reveal it,
And have our labors.

Leo. I have found ye noble
And ye shall find me true; your doubts are certain,
Nor dare I more dissemble; I am a woman,
The great example of a wretched woman.
Here you must give me leave to shew my sex;
And now to make ye know how much your credit
Has won upon my soul, so it please your patience,
I'll tell you my unfortunate sad story.

Theo. Sit down and say on Lady:

Leo. I am born Sir
Of good and honest parents, rich, and noble,
And not to lie, the Daughter of Don Zanchio,
If my unhappy fortune have not lost me:
My name call'd Leocadia, even the same
Your worthy brother did the special honor
To name for beautiful; and without pride
I have been often made believe so Signior;
But that's impertinent: Now to my sorrows;
Not far from us a Gentleman of worth,
A neighbor and a noble visitor,
Had his abode; who often met my Father
In gentle sports of Chase, and River-Hawking
In Course and Riding; and with him often brought
A Son of his, a young and hopeful Gentleman,
Nobly train'd up, in years fit for affection,
A sprightly man, of understanding excellent,
Of speech and civil 'haviour, no less powerful;
And of all parts, else my eies lied, abundant:
We grew acquainted, and from that acquaintance
Nearer into affection; from affection
Into belief.

Theo. Well.

Leo. Then we durst kiss.

Theo. Go forward.

Leo. But oh, man, [man,] unconstant, careless man,
Oh subtle man, how many are thy mischiefs;
Oh Mark-antonio, I may curse those kisses.

Theo. What did you call him Lady?

Leo. Mark-antonio
The name to me of misery.

Theo. Pray foreward.

Leo. From these we bred desires sir; but lose me heaven
If mine were lustful.

Theo. I believe.

L[e]o. This nearness
Made him importunate; When to save mine honor
Love having full possession of my powers,
I got a Contract from him.

Theo. Sealed?

Leo. And sworn too;
Which since, for some offence heaven laid upon me,
I lost among my monies in the robbery,
The loss that makes me poorest: this won from him
Fool that I was, and too too credulous,
I pointed him a by-way to my chamber
The next night at an hour.

Theo. Pray stay there Lady;
And when the night came, came he, kept he touch with ye?
Be not so shamefac'd; had ye both your wishes?
Tell me, and tell me true, did he enjoy ye,
Were ye in one anothers arms abed? the Contract
Confirm'd in full joys there? did he lie with ye?
Answer to that; ha? did your father know this,
The good old man, or kindred privy to't?
And had ye their consents? did that nights promise
Make ye a Mother?

Leo. Why do you ask so nearly?
Good Sir, do's it concern you any thing?

Theo. No Lady.
Only the pitty why you should be used so
A little stirs me, but did he keep his promise?

Leo. No, no Signior,
Alas he never came, nor never meant it,
My Love was fool'd, time numbred to no end,
My expectation flouted, and ghesse you Sir,
What dor unto a doating Maid this was,
What a base breaking off!

Theo. All's well then Lady;
Go forward in your Story.

Leo. Not only fail'd Sir
Which is a curse in Love, and may he find it
When his affections are full-wing'd, and ready
To stoop upon the quarry, then when all
His full hopes are in's arms: not only thus Sir
But more injurious, faithless, treacherous,
Within two daies fame gave him far remov'd
With a new love, which much against my conscience
But more against my cause, which is my hell
I must confess a fair one, a right fair one,
Indeed of admirable sweetness, Daughter
Unto another of our noble neighbors
The thief call'd Theodosia; whose perfections
I am bound to ban for ever, curse to wrinckles,
As heaven I hope will make 'em soon; and aches;
For they have rob'd me poor unhappy wench
Of all, of all Sir, all that was my glory
And left me nothing but these tears, and travel:
Upon this certain news, I quit my Father
And if you be not milder in construction
I fear mine honour too: and like a Page
Stole to Ossuna, from that place to Sivil,
From thence to Barcelona I was travelling
When you o'er-took my misery, in hope to hear of
Gallies bound up for Italy; for never
Will I leave off the search of this bad man
This filcher of affections, this love-Pedler,
Nor shall my curses cease to blast her beauties
And make her name as w[a]ndring as her nature
Till standing face to face before their lusts
I call heavens justice down.

Theo. This shows too angry
Nor can it be her fault she is belov'd,
If I give meat, must they that eat it surfeit?

Leoc. She loves again Sir, there's the mischief of it
And in despight of me to drown my blessings
Which she shall dearly know.

Theo. Ye are too violent.

Leoc. She has Devils in her eyes, to whose devotion
He offers all his service.

Theo. Who can say
But she may be forsaken too? he that once wanders
From such a perfect sweetness, as you promise
Has he not still the same rule to deceive?

Leoc. No, no they are together, love together
Past all deceipt of that side; sleep together,
Live, and delight together, and such deceipt
Give me in a wild desert.

Theo. By your leave Lady
I see no honour in this cunning.

Leoc. Honour?
True, none of her part, honour, she deserves none,
'Tis ceas'd with wandring Ladies such as she is,
So bold and impudent.

Theo. I could be angry
Extreamly angry now beyond my nature
And 'twere not for my pitty: what a man
Is this to do these wrongs: believe me Lady
I know the maid, and know she is not with him.

Leoc. I would you knew she were in heaven.

Theo. And so well know her
That I think you are cozen'd.

Leoc. So I say Sir.

Theo. I mean in her behaviour
For trust my faith so much I dare adventure for her credit
She never yet delighted to do wrong.

Leoc. How can she then delight in him? dare she think?
Be what she will, as excellent as Angels
My love so fond, my wishes so indulgent
That I must take her prewnings; sto[o]p at that
She has tyr'd upon; No Sir, I hold my beauty
Wash but these sorrows from it, of a sparkle
As right and rich as hers, my means as equal,
My youth as much unblown; and for our worths
And weight of virtue—

Theo. Do not task her so far.

Leo. By heaven she is cork, and clouds, light, light Sir, vapor
But I shall find her out, with all her witchcrafts,
Her paintings, and her powncings: for 'tis art
And only art preserves her, and meer spels
That work upon his powers; let her but shew me
A ruin'd cheek like mine, that holds his colour
And writes but sixteen years in spight of sorrows
An unbathed body, smiles, that give but shaddows,
And wrinkle not the face; besides she is little,
A demy dame, that makes no object.

Theo. Nay.
Then I must say you err; for credit me
I think she is taller than your self.

Leoc. Why let her
It is not that shall mate me; I but ask
My hands may reach unto her.

Theo. Gentle Lady
'Tis now ill time of farther argument,
For I perceive your anger voyd of counsel,
Which I could wish more temperate.

Leoc. Pray forgive me
If I have spoken uncivilly: they that look on
See more than we that play: and I beseech ye
Impute it loves offence, not mine; whose torments,
If you have ever lov'd, and found my crosses
You must confess are seldom ty'd to patience,
Yet I could wish I had said less.

Theo. No harm then;
Ye have made a full amends; our company
You may command, so please you in your travels
With all our faith and furtherance; let it be so.

Leoc. Ye make too great an offer.

Theo. Then it shall be.
Go in and rest your self, our wholsome dyet
Will be made ready straight: But heark ye Lady
One thing I must entreat, your leave, and sufferance
That these things may be open to my Brother
For more respect and honor.

Leoc. Do your pleasure.

Theo. And do not change this habit by no means
Unless ye change your self.

Leoc. Which must not yet be.

Theo. It carries ye concealed and safe.

Leoc. I am counsell'd. [Exit.

Enter Philippo.

Phil. What's done?

Theo. Why all we doubted; 'tis a woman,
And of a noble strain too, ghess.

Phil. I cannot.

Theo. You have heard often of her.

Phil. Stay I think not.

Theo. Indeed ye have; 'tis the fair Leocadia
Daughter unto Don Zanchio, our noble neighbor.

Phil. Nay?

Theo. 'Tis she Sir, o' my credit.

Phil. Leocadia,
Pish Leocadia, it must not be.

Theo. It must be, or be nothing.

Phil. Pray give me leave to wonder, Leocadia?

Theo. The very same.

Phil. The Damsel Leocadia
I ghest it was a woman, and a fair one
I see it through her shape, transparent plain
But that it should be she; tell me directly.

Theo. By heavens 'tis she.

Phil. By heaven then 'tis a sweet one.

Theo. That's granted too.

Phil. But heark ye, heark ye Sister,
How came she thus disguis'd?

Theo. I'll tell you that too
As I came on the self-same ground, so us'd too.

Phil. By the same man?

Theo. The same too.

Phil. As I live
You lovers have fine fancies,
Wonderous fine ones.

Theo. Pray heaven you never make one.

Phil. Faith I know not,
But in that mind I am, I had rather cobble,
'Tis a more Christian Trade; pray tell me one thing
Are not you two now monstrous jealous
Of one another?

Theo. She is much of me
And has rayl'd at me most unmercifully
And to my face, and o' my conscience
Had she but known me, either she or I
Or both, had parted with strange faces
She was in such a fury.

Phil. Leocadia?
Do's she speak handsomly?

Theo. Wondrous well Sir
And all she do's becomes her, even her anger.

Phil. How seemed she when you found her?

Theo. Had you seen
How sweetly fearful her pretty self
Betray'd her self, how neat her sorrow show'd,
And in what handsome phrase she put her story,
And as occasion stirr'd her how she started
Though roughly, yet most aptly into anger
You would have wonder'd.

Phil. Do's she know ye?

Theo. No,
Nor must not by no means.

Phil. How stands your difference?

Theo. I'll tell ye that some fitter time, but trust me
My Mark-antonio has too much to answer.

Phil. May I take knowledge of her?

Theo. Yes she is willing.

Phil. Pray use her as she is, with all respects then,
For she is a woman of a noble breeding.

Theo. Ye shall not find me wanting.

Phil. Which way bears she?

Theo. Our way, and to our end.

Phil. I am glad on't; hark ye,
She keeps her shape? [Enter Leocadia.

Theo. Yes, and I think by this time
Has mew'd her old.

Phil. She is here: by heaven a rare one,
An admirable sweet one, what an eye
Of what a full command she bears, how gracious
All her aspect shows; bless me from a feaver
I am not well o'th suddain.

Leoc. Noble friends
Your meat and all my service waits upon ye.

Phil. Ye teach us manners Lady; all which service
Must now be mine to you, and all too poor too;
Blush not, we know ye, for by all our faiths
With us your honor is in sanctuary
And ever shall be.

Leoc. I do well believe it,
Will ye walk nearer Sir. [Exit.

Theo. She shows still fairer,
Yonger in every change, and clearer, neater;
I know not, I may fool my self, and finely
Nourish a wolfe to eat my heart out; certain
As she appears now, she appears a wonder,
A thing amazes me; what would she do then
In womans helps, in ornaments apt for her
And deckings to her delicacy? without all doubt
She would be held a miracle; nor can I think
He has forsaken her: Say what she please,
I know his curious eye, or say he had,
Put case he could be so boy-blind and foolish,
Yet stil I fear she keeps the Contract with her
Not stoln as she affirms, nor lost by negligence,
She would loose her self first, 'tis her life, and there
All my hopes are dispatch'd; O noble love
That thou couldst be without this jealousie,
Without this passion of the heart, how heavenly
Wouldst thou appear unto us? Come what may come
I'll see the end on't: and since chance has cast her
Naked into my refuge, all I can
She freely shall command, except the man. [Exit.

Scæna Tertia.

Enter Leonardo, and Don Pedro.

Leon. Don Pedro do you think assuredly
The Galleys will come round to Barcelona
Within these two days?

Ped. Without doubt.

Leo. And think ye
He will be with 'em certainly?

Ped. He is sir
I saw him at their setting off.

Leo. Must they needs
Touch there for water as you say?

Ped. They must sir
And for fresh meat too, few or none go by it.
Beside so great a Fleet must needs want trimming
If they have met with fowl seas, and no harbor
On this side Spain, is able without danger
To moore 'em, but that haven.

Leo. Are the wars
His only end?

Ped. So he professes.

Leo. Bears he
Any command amongst 'em?

Ped. Good regard
With all; which quickly will prefer him.

Leo. Pray Sir tell me,
And as you are a Gentleman be liberal.

Ped. I will Sir, and most true.

Leo. Who saw ye with him?

Ped. None but things like himself; young Souldiers
And Gentlemen desirous to seek honor.

Leo. Was there no woman there, nor none disguis'd
That might be thought a woman in his language?
Did he not let slip something of suspition
Touching that wanton way.

Ped. Believe me Sir
I neither saw, nor could suspect that face
That might be doubted womans, yet I am sure
Aboard him I see all that past, and 'tis impossible
Among so many high set bloods there should be
A woman, let her close her self within a cockle,
But they would open her, he must not love
Within that place alone, and therefore surely
He would not be so foolish had he any,
To trust her there; for his discourse, 'twas ever
About his business, war, or mirth to make us
Relish a Can of Wine well; when he spoke private
'Twas only the remembrance of his service,
And hope of your good prayers for his health Sir,
And so I gave him to the seas.

Leo. I thank ye,
And now am satisfied, and to prevent
Suspitions that may nourish dangers Signior,
For I have told you how the mad Alphonso
Chafes like a Stag i'th toyl, and bends his fury
'Gainst all but his own ignorance; I am determin'd
For peace sake and the preservation
Of my yet untoucht honor, and his cure
My self to seek him there, and bring him back
As testimony of an unsought injury
By either of our actions; That the world,
And he if he have reason, may see plainly
Opinion is no perfect guide; nor all fames
Founders of truths: In the mean time this courtesie
I must intreat of you Sir, Be my self here
And as my self command my family.

Ped. Ye lay too much trust on me.

Leo. 'Tis my love Sir,
I will not be long from ye; if this question
Chance to be call'd upon ere my return
I leave your care to answer; so Farewell Sir.

Ped. Ye take a wise way; All my best endeavors
Shall labor in your absence; peace go with ye. [Exit Le[o].
A noble honest Gentleman, free hearted
And of an open faith, much loving, and much loved,
And father of that goodness only malice
Can truly stir against, what dare befall
Till his return I'll answer. [Exit Ped.

Enter Alphonso, and Servant.

Alph. Walk off Sirrah,
But keep your self within my call.

Serv. I will Sir.

Alph. And stir my horse for taking cold: within there,
Hoa people; you that dwell there my brave Signior
What are ye all a sleep? is't that time with ye?
I'll ring a little lowder.

Enter Pedro.

Ped. Sir who seek ye?

Alph. Not you Sir; Where's your Master?

Ped. I serve no man
In way of pay Sir.

Alph. Where's the man o'th house then?

Ped. What would you have with him Sir?

Alph. Do you stand here Sir
To ask men questions when they come?

Ped. I would sir
Being his friend, and hearing such alarmes
Know how men come to visit him.

Alph. Ye shall Sir,
Pray tell his mightiness here is a Gentleman
By name Alphonso, would intreat his conference
About affairs of State Sir, are ye answer'd?

Enter Sanchio carried.

Ped. I must be Sir.

Sanch. Stay, set me down, stay Signior,
You must stay, and ye shall stay.

Alph. Meaning me Sir?

Sanch. Yes you Sir, you I mean, I mean you.

Alph. Well Sir.
Why should I stay?

Sanch. There's reason.

Alph. Reason Sir?

Sanch. I reason Sir
My wrong is greatest, and I will be served first,
Call out the man of fame!

Alph. How serv'd Sir?

Sanch. Thus sir.

Alph. But not before me.

Sanch. Before all the world sir
As my case stands.

Alph. I have lost a daughter sir.

Sanch. I have lost another worth five score of her sir.

Alph. Ye must not tell me so.

San[c]h. I have, and heark ye?
Make it up five score more: Call out the fellow,
And stand you by sir.

Ped. This is the mad morriss.

Alph. And I stand by?

Sanch. I say stand by, and do it.

Alph. Stand by among thy lungs.

Sanch. Tu[r]n presently
And say thy prayers, thou art dead.

Alph. I scorn thee
And scorn to say my prayers more than thou do'st,
Mine is the most wrong, and my daughter dearest
And mine shall first be righted.

Sanch. Shall be righted.

Ped. A third may live I see, pray hear me Gentlemen.

Sanch. Shall be.

Alph. I, shall be righted.

Sanch. Now?

Alph. Now.

Sanch. Instantly.

Alph. Before I stir.

Sanch. Before me.

Alph. Before any.

Sanch. Dost thou consider what thou say'st? hast thou friends here
Able to quench my anger, or perswade me
After I have beaten thee into one main bruist
And made thee spend thy state in rotten apples,
Thou canst at length be quiet, shall I kill thee
Divide thee like a rotten Pumpion,
And leave thee stincking to posterity,
There's not the least blow I shall give; but do's this
Urge me no farther: I am first.

Alph. I'll hang first.
No goodman glory, 'tis not your bravado's,
Your punctual honor, nor soldadoship.

Sanch. Set me a little nearer.

Alph. Let him sally.
[Lin'd] with your quircks of carriage and discretion
Can blow me off my purpose. Where's your credit
With all your school points now? your decent arguing
And apt time for performing: where are these toys,
These wise ways, and most honorable courses,
To take revenge? how dar'st thou talk of killing,
Or think of drawing any thing but squirts
When letchery has dry found[e]d thee?

Sanch. Neerer yet,
That I may spit him down: thou look'st like a man.

Ped. I would be thought so Sir.

Sanch. Prethee do but take me,
And fling me upon that Puppy.

Alph. Do for heavens sake,
And see but how I'll hug him.

San[c]h. Yet take warning.

Ped. Faith Gentlemen, this is a needless quarrel.

Sanch. And do you desire to make one?

Ped. As a friend Sir,
To tell you all this anger is but lost Sir,
For Leonardo is from home.

Alph. No, no Sir.

Ped. Indeed he is.

Sanch. Where dare he be, but here Sir,
When men are wrong'd, and come for satisfactions.

Ped. It seems he has done none Sir; for his business
Clear of those cares, hath carried him for sometime
To Barcelona: if he had been guilty,
I know he would have stayd, and clear'd all difference
Either by free confession, or his sword.

Sanch. This must not be.

Ped. Sure as I live, it is Sir.

Alph. Sure, as we all live,
He's run away for ever: Barcelona!
Why? 'tis the key for Italy, from whence
He stole first hither.

Sanch. And having found his knaveries
Too gross to be forgiven, and too open,
He has found the same way back again: I believe too
The good grass Gentleman, for his own ease,
Has taken one o'th' Fillyes: Is not his stuff sold.

Alph. I fear his worships shoos too; to escape us,
I do not think he has a dish within doors,
A louse left of his linnage.

Ped. Ye are too wide Sir.

Alph. Or one poor wooden spoon.

Ped. Come in and see Sir.

Alph. I'll see his house on fire first.

Ped. Then be pleased Sir
To give better censure.

Sanch. I will after him,
And search him like conceal'd land, but I'll have him,
And though I find him in his shrift, I'll kill him.

Alph. I'll bear ye company.

Sanch. Pray have a care then,
A most [especiall] care, indeed a fear,
Ye do not anger me.

Alph. I will observe ye,
And if I light upon him handsomly.

Sanch. Kill but a piece of him, leave some Alphonso
For your poor Friends.

Ped. I fear him not for all this.

Alph. Shall we first go home,
For it may prove a voyage, and dispose
Of things there; heaven knows what may follow.

Sanch. No,
I'll kill him in this shirt I have on: let things
Govern themselves, I am master of my honor
At this time, and no more; let wife, and land,
Lie lay till I return.

Alph. I say amen to't:
But what care for our monies?

Sanch. I will not spend
Above three shillings, till his head be here,
Four is too great a sum for all his Fortunes.
Come take me up instantly.

Alph. Farewell to you Sir,
And if your friend be in a featherbed,
Sow'd up to shrowd his fears, tell him 'tis folly,
For no course but his voluntary hanging
Can get our pardons. [Exeunt.

Ped. These I think would be
Offence enough, if their own indiscretions
Would suffer 'em: two of the old seditious,
When they want enemies, they are their own foes:
Were they a little wiser, I should doubt 'em:
Till when I'll ne'r break sleep, nor suffer hunger
For any harm he shall receive: for 'tis as easie
If he be guilty, to turn these two old men
Upon their own throats, and look on, and live still,
As 'tis to tell five pound: a great deal sooner,
And so I'll to my meat, and then to hawking. [Exit.

Actus Quartus. Scæna Prima.

Enter Mark-antonio, and a Gentleman.

Marc. Sir, this is complement; I pray you leave me.

Gent. Sir, it is not.

Marc. Why? I would only see the Town.

Gent. And only that I come to shew you.

Marc. Which I can see without you.

Gent. So you may
Plainly, not safely: For such difference
As you have seen betwixt the sea and earth
When waves rise high, and land would beat 'em back
As fearful of Invasion; such we find
When we land here at Barcelona.

Marc. Sir.

Gent. Besides our General of the Galleys, fearing
Your hasty nature, charg'd me not return
Without you safe.

Marc. O Sir, that Roderigo
Is noble, and do's mistake my temper.
There is not in the world, a mind less apt
To conceive wrongs, or do 'em; has he seen me
In all this voyage, in the which he pleases.

En[t]er Eugenia, with divers Attendants.

To call me friend, let slip a hasty word?
S'light Sir: yonder is a Lady va[il]d,
For properness beyond comparison,
And sure her face is like the rest: we'll see't.

Gent. Why? you are hasty Sir already: know you
What 'tis you go about.

Marc. Yes, I would see
The womans face.

Gent. By heaven you shall not do't:
You do not know the custom of the place:
To draw that curtain here, though she were mean,
Is mortall.

Marc. Is it? earth must come to earth
At last, and by my troth, I'll try it Sir.

Gent. Then I must hold you fast. By all the faith
That can be plac'd in man, 'tis an attempt
More dangerous than death, 'tis death and shame:
I know the Lady well.

Marc. Is she a Lady?
I shall the more desire to see her Sir.

Gent. She is Alanso's wife, the Governor,
A noble Gentleman.

Marc. Then let me go,
If I can win her, you and I will govern
This Town Sir, fear it not, and we will alter
These barbarous customs then; for every Lady
Shall be seen daily, and seen over too.

Gent. Come, do not jest, nor let your passions bear you
To such wild enterprises: hold you still,
For as I have a soul, you shall not do't.
She is a Lady of unblemish'd fame,
And here to offer that affront, were base:
Hold on your way, and we will see the Town,
And overlook the Ladies.

Marc. I am school'd,
And promise you I will: but good Sir, see,
She will pass by us now; I hope I may
Salute her thus far off.

Gent. 'S foot, are you mad?
'Twill be as ill as th' other.

1 Attend. What's the matter?
What would that fellow have?

Gent. Good Sir forbear.

1. Atten. It seems you are new landed: would you beg
Any thing here?

Marc. Yes Sir, all happiness
To that fair Lady, as I hope.

Gent. Mark-antonio.

Marc. Her face, which needs no hiding: I would beg
A sight of.

Gent. Now go on, for 'tis too late
To keep this from a tumult.

1. Attend. Sirrah, you
Shall see a fitter object for your eyes,
Then a fair Ladies face.

Eug. For heavens sake, raise not
A quarrel in the streets for me.

1. Attend. Slip in then;
This is your door.

Eug. Will you needs quarrel then?

1. Attend. We must, or suffer
This outrage: is't not all your minds Sirs, speak?

All. Yes.

Eug. Then I do beseech ye, let my Lord

Enter three or four Souldiers.

Not think the quarrel about me; for 'tis not. [Exit.

Gent. See happily some of our Galley souldiers
Are come ashoar.

1. Attend. Come on Sir, you shall see
Faces enough.

Gent. Some one of you call to

Enter certain Townsmen.

Our General, the whole rore of the Town
Comes in upon us.

Marc. I have seen Sir better
Perhaps, than that was cover'd; and will yet

Enter Philippo, Theodosia, and Leocadia.

See that, or spoil yours.

Phil. On, why start you back?

Theo. Alass Sir, they are fighting.

Leoc. Let's begon,
See, see, a handsome man strook down.

Gent. Ho General,
Look out, Antonio is in distress.

Enter Rodorigo above.

Theo. Antonio.

Leoc. Antonio! 'tis he.

Rod. within. Ho, Gunner make a shot into the Town,
I'll part you: bring away Antonio [a shot.
Into my Cabben. [Exit Attendants and Townsmen.

Gent. I will do that office.
I fear it is the last, that I shall do him.

[Exit Souldiers and Gentlemen with Marckantonio.

Theo. The last, why will he dye?

Leoc. Since I have found him: happiness leave me,
When I leave him.

Phil. Why Theodosia?
My sister; wake: alass, I griev'd but now
To see the streets so full; and now I grieve
To see them left so empty: I could wish,
Tumult himself were here, that yet at least
Amongst the band, I might espie some face
So pale and fearful, that would willingly
Embrace an arrand for a Cordial,
Or Aquavitæ, or a cup of sack,
Or a Physitian: but to talk of these
She breaths: stand up, O Theodosia,
Speak but as thou wert wont, give but a sigh,
Which is but the most unhappy piece of life,
And I will ever after worship sadness,
Apply my self to grief; prepare and build
Altars to sorrow.

Theo. O Philippo, help me.

Phil. I do; these are my arms, Philippo's arms,
Thy Brothers arms that hold thee up.

Theo. You help me
To life: but I would see Antonio
That's dead.

Phil. Thou shalt see any thing; how dost thou?

Theo. Better, I thank you.

Phil. Why that's well: call up
Thy senses, and uncloud thy cover'd spirits.
How now?

Theo. Recover'd: but Antonio,
Where is he?

Phil. We will find him: art thou well?

Theo. Perfectly well, saving the miss of him;
And I do charge you here, by our allyance,
And by the love which would have been betwixt us,
Knew we no kindred; by that killing fear,
Mingled with twenty thousand hopes and doubts,
Which you may think, plac'd in a Lovers heart,
And in a Virgins too, when she wants help,
To grant me your assistance, to find out
This man alive, or dead; and I will pay you
In service, tears, or prayers, a world of wealth:
But other treasure, I have none: alas!
You men have strong hearts; but we feeble maids
Have tender eyes, which only given be
To blind themselves, crying for what they see.

Phil. Why do'st thou charge me thus? have I been found
Slow to perform, what I could but imagine
Thy wishes were; have I at any time
Tender'd a business of mine own, beyond
A vanity of thine? have I not been
As if I were a sensless creature, made
To serve thee without pow'r of questioning,
If so, why fear'st thou?

Theo. I am satisfied.

Phil. Come; then let's go: where's Leocadia?

Theo. I know not Sir.

Phil. Where's Leocadia?

Theo. I do not know.

Phil. Leocadia,
This Tumult made the streets as dead as night,
A man may talk as freely: what's become
Of Leocadia?

Theo. She's run away.

Phil. Begone, and let us never more behold
Each others face, till we may, both together,
Fasten our eyes on her: accursed be
Those tender cozening names of charity,
And natural affection, they have lost
Me only by observing them, what cost
Travel, and fruitless wishes may in vain
Search through the world, but never find again.

Theo. Good Sir be patient, I have done no fault
Worthy this banishment.

Phil. Yes Leocadia,
The Lady so distress'd, who was content
To lay her story, and to lay her heart
As open as her story to your self,
Who was content, that I should know her Sex,
Before dissembl'd and to put her self
Into my conduct, whom I undertook
Safely to guard, is in this Tumult lost.

Theo. And can I help it Sir?

Phil. No, would thou couldst,
You might have done, but for that zeald religion
You women bear to swownings, you do pick
Your times to faint when some body is by:
Bound or by nature, or by love, or service
To raise you from that well dissembled death:
Inform me but of one that has been found
Dead in her private chamber by her self,
Where sickness would no more forbear, than here,
And I will quit the rest for her.

Theo. I know not
What they may do, and how they may dissemble;
But by my troth, I did not.

Phil. By my troth,
Would I had try'd; would I had let thee layn,
And followed her.

Theo. I would you had done so
Rather, than been so angry: where's Antonio?

Phil. Why do'st thou vex me with these questions?
I'll tell thee where, he's carried to the Galleys,
There to be chain'd, and row, and beat, and row
With knotted ropes, and pizzels; if he swound,
He has a dose of bisket.

Theo. I am glad
He is alive.

Phil. Was ever man thus troubled,
Tell me where Leocadia is?

Theo. Good brother be not so hasty, and I think I can:
You found no error in me, when I first
Told you she was a woman, and believe me
Something I have found out, which makes me think,
Nay, almost know so well, that I durst swear
She follow'd hurt Antonio.

Phil. What do we

Enter the Governor, two Attendants, and the Townsmen.

Then lingring here; we will aboard the Galleys
And find her.

Gov. Made he a shot into the Town?

1. Attend. He did Sir.

Gov. Call back those Gentlemen.

1. Attend. The Governor, commands you back.

Phil. We will obey him Sir.

Gov. You gave him cause to shoot; I know, he is
So far from rash offence, and holds with me
Such curious friendship: could not one of you
Have call'd me while 'twas doing, such an uproar,
Before my dore too?

1. Towns. By my troth Sir, we were so busy in the publick cause, of our own
Private falling out: that we forgot it: at home we see now
You were not, but as soon as the shot made us fly, we ran
Away as fast as we could to seek your honor.

Gov. 'Twas gravely done; but no man tells the cause
Or chance, or what it was that made you differ.

1. Towns. For my part Sir, if there were any that I knew
Of, the shot drove it out of my head, do you know any neighbours?

All. Not we, not we.

Gov. Not we! nor can you tell.

1. Attend. No other cause,
But the old quarrel betwixt the Town and the Galleys.

Gov. Come nearer Gentlemen: what are your names?

Phil. My name Philippo.

Theo. And mine Theodoro.

Gov. Strangers you are it seems.

Phil. Newly arriv'd.

Gov. Then you are they begun this Tumult.

Phil. No Sir.

[G]ov. Speak one of you.

1. Attend. They are not, I can quit 'em.

Theo. Yet we saw part, and an unhappy part
Of this debate, a long sought friend of ours
Strook down for dead, and born unto the Galleys,
His name is Mark-antonio.

Phil. And another
Of our company, a Gentleman
Of noble birth, besides accompanyed
With all the gifts of nature, ravish'd hence
We know not how, in this dissention.

Gov. Get you home all, and work; and when I hear
You meddle with a weapon any more
But those belonging to your Trades, I'll lay you
Where your best Customers shall hardly find you. [Exit Townsmen.
I am sorry gentlemen, I troubled you,
Being both strangers, by your tongues, and looks,
Of worth: To make ye some part of amends
If there be any thing in this poor Town
Of Barcelona that you would command,
Command me.

Theo. Sir, this wounded Gentleman,
If it might please you, if your pow'r and love
Extend so far, I would be glad to wish
Might be remov'd into the Town for cure:
The Galleys stay not, and his wound I know
Cannot endure a voyage.

Gov. Sir, he shall,
I warrant you: Go call me hither Sirrah,
One of my other Servants. [Exit 1. attendan[t].

Phil. And besides.
The Gentleman we lost, Signior Francisco,
Shall be render'd too.

Enter a Servant.

Gover. And he Sir too: Go sirrah, bear this ring
To Roderigo, my most noble friend,
The General of the Galleys: Tell him this. [Exit servant.

Whispers to his Servant.

Theo. Now we shall have 'em both.

Phil. Blest be thy thoughts
For apprehending this: blest be thy breath
For uttering it.

Gov. Come Gentlemen, you shall
Enter my roof: and I will send for Surgeons,
And you shall see your friends here presently.

Theo. His name was Mark-antonio.

Gover. I know it,
And have sent word so.

Phil. Did you not forget
Francisco's name?

Gover. Nor his: y'are truly welcome,
To talk about it more, were but to say
The same word often over: you are welcome. [Exeunt.

Scæna Secunda.

Enter Mark-antonio, carried, Leocadia following; and the Servant. 2 Soldiers carrying him.

Serv. This is the house Sir.

Mar. Enter it, I pray you,
For I am faint, although I think my wound
Be nothing. Soldiers, leave us now: I thank you.

1. Sold. Heaven send you health Sir.

Serv. Let me lead you in.

Mark. My wound's not in my feet; I shall entreat 'em
I hope to bear me so far. [Exit.

2. Sold. How seriously these land men fled, when our General made a
Shot, as if he had been a warning to call 'em to their Hall.

1. Sold. I cannot blame 'em, What man have they now in the
Town, able to maintain a Tumult, or uphold a matter out
Of square if need be? O the quiet hurley burleys that I
Have seen in this Town, when we have fought four hours
Together, and not a man amongst us so impertinent or
Modest to ask why? but now the pillars that bare
Up this blessed Town in that regular debate, and
Scambling, are dead, the more's the pitty.

2. Sold. Old Ignatio lives still.

1. Sold. Yes, I know him: he will do prettily well at a mans liver:
But where is there any man now living in the Town
That hath a steady hand, and understands Anatomy
Well? if it come to a particular matter of the lungs,
Or the spleen, why? alas Ignatio is to seek; are
There any such men left as I have known, that
Would say they would hit you in this place? is there
Ever a good heartist, or a member-percer, or a
Small-gut man left in the Town, answer
Me that?

2. Sold. Mass, I think there be not.

1. Sold. No, I warrant thee. Come, come, 'tis time
We were at the Galleys. [Exeunt.

Enter Governor, Eugenia, Mark-antonio, Philippo, Theodosia, Leocadia, Attendants.

Gover. Sir, you may know by what I said already,
You may command my house; but I must beg
Pardon to leave you, if the publick business
Forc'd me not from you, I my self should call it
Unmannerly: but good Sir, do you give it
A milder name: it shall not be an hour
Ere I return.

Mar[c]. Sir, I was nere so poor
In my own thoughts, as that I want a means
To requite this with.

Gov. Sir, within this hour. [Exit.

Marc. This the Lady that I quarrell'd for?
O lust if wounds cannot restrain thy power,
Let shame: nor do I feel my hurt at all,
Nor is it ought, only I was well beaten:
If I pursue it, all the civil world
That ever did imagine the content
Found in the band of man and wife unbroke,
The reverence due to housholds, or the blemish
That may be stuck upon posterity
Will catch me, bind me, burn upon my forehead,
This is the wounded stranger, that receiv'd
For charity into a house, attempted—
I will not do it.

Eug. Sir, how do you do now?
That you walk off.

Marc. Worse Madam, than I was;
But it will over.

Eug. Sit, and rest a while.

Marc. Where are the Surgeons?

Eug. Sir, it is their manner,
When they have seen the wound especially,
The patient being of worth, to go consult,
Which they are now at in another room,
About the dressing.

Marc. Madam, I do feel my self not well.

Theo. Alass!

Leoc. How do you Sir.

Eug. Will you drink waters?

Marc. No good Madam, 'tis not
So violent upon me; nor I think
Any thing dangerous: but yet there are
Some things that sit so heavy on my conscience,
That will perplex my mind, and stop my cure,
So that unless I utter 'em. A scratch
Here on my thumb will kill me: Gentlemen,
I pray you leave the room, and come not in
Your selves, or any other till I have
Open'd my self to this most honour'd Lady.

Phil. We will not.

Theo. O blest! he will discover now
His love to me.

Leoc. Now he will tell the Lady
Our Contract. [Exit.

Eug. I do believe he will confess to me
The wrong he did a Lady in the streets;
But I forgive him.

Marc. Madam, I perceive
My self grow worse and worse.

Eug. Shall I call back your friends?

Marc. O no, but e'r I do impart
What burthens me so sore, let me intreat you,
(For there is no trust in these Surgeons)
To look upon my wound; it is perhaps
My last request: But tell me truely too,
That must be in: how far do you imagine
It will have pow'r upon me.

Eug. Sir, I will.

Marc. For heavens sake, softly: oh, I must needs lay
My head down easily, whilst you do it.

Eug. Do Sir,
'Tis but an ordinary blow; a child
Of mine has had a greater, and been well;
Are you faint hearted?

Marc. Oh.

Eug. Why do you sigh?
There is no danger in the world in this;
I wonder it should make a man sit down;
What do you mean, why do you kiss my breasts?
Lift up your head, your wound, may well endure it.

Mar. O Madam, may I not express affection,
Dying-affection too I fear, to those
That do me favors, such as this of yours.

Eug. If you mean so, 'tis well; but what's the business
Lies on your conscience?

Mar. I will tell you Madam.

Eug. Tell me and laugh?

Mar. But I will tell you true
Though I do laugh, I know as well as you
My wound is nothing, nor the power of earth
Could lay a wound upon me in your presence,
That I could feel; but I do laugh to think
How covertly, how far beyond the reach
Of men, and wise men too, we shall deceive 'em,
Whilst they imagine I am talking here
With that short breath I have, ready to swound
At every full point; you my ghostly Mother
To hear my sad confession, you and I
Will on that bed within, prepar'd for me,
Debate the matter privately.

Eug. Forbear,
Thou wert but now as welcome to this house
As certain cures to sick men, and just now
This sudain alteration makes thee look
Like plagues come to infect it; if thou knewst
How loathsome thou wilt be, thou wouldst intreat
These wals, or posts to help thee to a hurt,
Past thy dssimulation.

Mar. Gentle Madam
Call 'em not in?

Eug. I will not yet, this place
I know to be within the reach of tongue,
And ears, thou canst not force me; therefore hear me
What I will tell thee quickly, thou art born
To end some way more disesteem'd than this,
Or which is worse, to dye of this hurt yet.
Come Gentlemen.

Enter Leocadia.

Mar. Good Madam.

Eug. Gentlemen.

Leoc. Madam how is't? is Mark-antonio well?
Methinks your looks are alter'd, and I see
A strange distemper in you.

Eug. I am wrought
By that dissembling man, that fellow worth
Nothing but kicking.

Enter Philippo and Theodosia.

Leo. Gentle Madam speak
To me alone let not them understand
His fault, he will repent [it] I dare swear.

Eug. I'll tell it you in private.

Phil. Mark-antonio,
How do you?

Mar. Stand farther off I pray you
Give me some ayre.

Theo. Good Brother, will he scape,
The Surgeons say there is no danger.

Phil. Scape?
No doubt he will.

Leo. Alas will he not leave
This trying all; Madam, I do beseech you
Let me but speak to him, you and these by,
And I dare almost promise you to make him
Shew himself truly sorrowful to you, besides a story I shall open to you,
Not put in so good words but in it self
So full of chance, that you will easily
Forgive my tediousness, and be well pleas'd
With that so much afflicts me.

Eug. Good Sir do.

Leo. And I desire no interruption
Of speech may trouble me till I have said
What I will quickly do.

Theo. What will she say.

Eug. Come Gentlemen, I pray you lend your ears,
And keep your voyces.

Leo. Signior Mark-antonio
How do you do?

Mar. Oh the Surgeons.

Leoc. Let me tell you
Who know as well as you, you do dissemble,
It is no time to do so; leave the thoughts
Of this vain world, forget your flesh and blood,
And make your spirit an untroubled way
To pass to what it ought.

Mar. Y're not in earnest?
Why I can walk Sir, and am well.

Leoc. 'Tis true
That you can walk, and do believe y're well:
It is the nature, as your Surgeons say
Of these wounds, for a man to go, and talk,
Nay merrily, till his last hour, his minute:
For heaven sake Sir, sit down again.

Mar. Alass
Where are the Surgeons?

Leoc. Sir, they will not come,
If they should dress you, you would dye they say
Ere one would tell twenty; trouble not your mind,
Keep your head warm, and do not stir your body,
And you may live an hour.

Mar. Oh heavens, an hour?
Alass, it is to[o] little t[o] remember
But half the wrongs that I have done; how short
Then for contrition, and how least of all
For satisfaction?

Leo. But you desire
To satisfie?

Mar. Heaven knows I do.

Leo. Then know
That I am he, or she, or what you will
Most wrong'd by you; your Leocadia,
I know you must remember me.

Mar. Oh heaven!

Le[o]. That lost her friends, that lost her fathers house,
That lost her fame in loosing of her Sex,
With these strange garments, there is no excuse
To hinder me, it is within your power
To give me satisfaction; you have time
Left in this little piece of life to do it:
Therefore I charge you for your conscience sake,
And for our fame, which I would fain have live
When both of us are dead, to celebrate
That Contract; which you have both seal'd and sworn
Yet ere you dye, which must be hastily
Heaven knows.

Mar. Alass, the sting of conscience
To death-ward for our faults; draw nearer all
And hear what I unhappy man shall say;
First Madam I desire your pardon; next
(I feel my spirits fail me) Gentlemen
Let me shake hands with you, and let's be friends,
For I have done wrong upon wrong so thick
I know not where, that every man methinks
Should be mine enemy; Forgive me both.
Lastly 'tis true (oh I do feel the power
Of death seize on me) that I was contracted
By seal and oath to Leocadia;
(I must speak fast, because I fear my life
Will else be shorter than my speech would be)
But 'tis impossible to satisfie
You Leocadia, but by repentance,
Though I can dyingly, and boldly say
I know not your dishonor, yet that was
Your virtue, and not mine, you know it well;
But herein lies th' impossibility,
O Theodosia, Theodosia
I was betroth'd to Theodosia
Before I ever saw thee; heaven forgive me
She is my wife this half hour whilst I live.

Theo. That's I, that's I, I'm Theodosia,
Hear me a little now, who have not suffer'd
Disgrace at all methinks, since you confess
What I so long have sought for, here is with me
Philippo too my Brother.

Mar. I am glad;
All happiness to him; come let me kiss thee
Beg pardon of that Maid for my offence,
And let me farther, with a dying breath
Tell in thine ear the rest of my desires.

Eug. I am afraid they will all four turn women
If we hold longer talk.

Leoc. Alass there is
No hope for me; that's Theodosia
And that her Brother, I am only sorry
I was beholding to 'em; I will search
Over the world, as careless of my fortunes,
As they of me, till I can meet a curse
To make these almost killing-sorrows worse. [Exit.

Theo. Sir, as I live she ly'd, only to draw
A just confession from you, which she hath
A happy one for me, ask of this Lady,
Ask of my Brother.

Eug. Sir, she did dissemble,
Your wound is nothing.

Phil. Leocadia's gone. [Exit.

Theo. Rise up, and stir your self, 'tis but amazement
And your imagination that afflicts you,
Look you Sir now.

Mar. I think 'tis so indeed.

Theo. The Surgeons do not come, because they swear
It needs no dressing.

Eug. You shall talk with 'em
Within, for your own fancy.

Mar. Where's your Brother, and Leocadia?

Eug. Within belike.

Mar. I feel my self methinks as well as ever.

Eug. Keep then your mind so too; I do forgive
The fault you did to me; But here is one
Must not be wrong'd hereafter.

Mar. Neither shall she
When I make jests of oaths again, or make
My lust play with religion, when I leave
To keep true joys for her, and yet within
My self true sorrow for my passed deeds
May I want grace, when I would fain repent,
And find a great and sodain punishment. [Exeunt.

Actus V. Scæna Prima.

Enter Philippo, Diego, and Incubo.

Phil. Where is mine Host, did not he see him neither?

Die. Not I, i'faith Sir.

Phil. Nor the muleter?

Inc. Nay he is past seeing, unless it be in's sleep,
By this time; all his visions were the pots,
Three hours since Sir.

Phil. Which way should she take?
Nay, look you now; do you all stand still? good Heaven
You might have lighted on him, now this instant?
For loves sake see[k] him out, who ever find him
I will reward his fortune as his diligence;
Get all the Town to help, that will be hir'd,
Their pains I'll turn to annual holiday,
If it shall chance, but one bring word of her,
Pray you about it.

Inc. Her Sir? who do you mean?

Phil. (I had forgot my self) the Page I meant
That came along with us.

Die. He you gave the clothes too?

Phil. I ga' the clothes to; Rascal?

Die. Nay good Sir.

Phi. Why dost thou mention or upbraid my courtesies
Slave?

Die. For your honor Sir.

Phi. Wretch; I was honor'd,
That she would wear 'em (he, I would say) 's death?
Go, get, and find 'em out, or never see me,
I shall betray my love e'r I possess it,
Some Star direct me, or ill Planet strike me. [Exit Phil.

Inc. Best to divide.

Die. I'll this way.

Inc. And I this.

Die. I, as you, find him for a Real.

Inc. 'Tis done.

Die. My course is now directly to some Pie-house
I know the Pages compass.

Inc. I think rather
The smock-side o'th' Town, the surer harbor
At his years to put in.

Die. If I do find
The hungry haunt, I take him by the teeth now.

Inc. I by the tail, yet I as you.

Die. No more. [E]xeunt.

Scæna Secunda.

Enter Philippo.

Phi. Dear Leocadia, where canst thou be fled
Thus like a spirit hence? and in a moment?
What cloud can hide thee from my following search
If yet thou art a body? sure she hath not
Tane any house? she did too late leave one
Where all humanity of a place receiv'd her,
And would, (if she had staid) have help'd to right
The wrong her fortune did her; yet she must
Be [inter'd] somewhere, or be found, no street,
Lane, passage, corner, turn, hath scap'd enquiry:
If her despair had ravish'd her to air
She could not yet be ratified so
But some of us should meet her? though their eyes
Perhaps be leaden, and might turn; mine would
Strike out a lightning for her, and divide
A mist as thick as ever darkness was,
Nay see her through a quarry; they do lye,
Lye grosly that say love is blind; by him,
And heaven they lye; he has a sight can pierce
Through Ivory, as cleer as it were horn,
And reach his object.

Enter Incubo.

Inc. Sir, he's found, he's found.

Phi. Ha? where? But reach that happy Note again
And let it relish truth, thou art an Angel.

Inc. He's here; fast by Sir, calling for a Boat
To go aboard the Gallies.

Phi. Where, where; hold thee. [Exit.

Inc. He might ha' kept this now, I had nought to shew for't,
If he had had the wit t' have gone from's word,
These direct men, they are no men of fashion,
Talk what you will, this is a very smelt. [Exit.

Scæna Tertia.

Enter Leonardo with a Surgeon.

Leo. Upon your Art Sir, and your faith to assist it
Shall I believe you then his wound's not mortal?

Surg. Sir, 'tis not worth your question; less your fear.

Leo. You doe restore me Sir, I pray you accept
This small remembrance of a fathers thanks
For so assur'd a benefit.

Surg. Excuse me.

Leo. Sir, I can spare it, and must not believe
But that your fortune may receiv't, except
You'ld ha' me think you live not by your practice.

Sur. I crave your pardon Sir; you teach me manners.

Leo. I crave your love and friendship, and require
As I have made now, both my self and business
A portion of your care, you will but bring me
Under the person of a call'd assistant
To his next opening, where I may but see him,
And utter a few words to him in private,
And you will merit me; for I am loth
Since here I have not to appear my self,
Or to be known unto the Governor,
Or make a tumult of my purpose.

Surg. Neither
I hope will be your need Sir; I shall bring you
Both there, and off again without the hazard. [Exeunt.

Scæna Quarta.

Enter Philippo, and Leocadia.

Ph. Will you not hear me!

Leo. I have heard so much
Will keep me deaf for ever; No, Mark-antonio
After thy sentence, I may hear no more,
Thou hast pronounc'd me dead.

Phi. Appeal to reason,
She will reprieve you from the power of grief,
Which rules but in her absence; Hear me say
A soveraign message from her, which in duty,
And love to your own safety, you ought hear:
Why do you strive so? whither would you flie?
You cannot wrest your self away from care
You may from counsel; you may shift your place
But not your person; and another Clyme
Makes you no other.

Leo. Oh.

Phi. For passions sake,
(Which I do serve, honor, and love in you)
If you will sigh, sigh here; If you would vary
A sigh to tears, or out-cry, do it here.
No shade, no desart, darkness, nor the grave
Shall be more equal to your thoughts than I,
Only but hear me speak.

Leo. What would you say?

Phi. That which shall raise your heart, or pull down mine,
Quiet your passion, or provoke mine own;
We must have both one balsome, or one wound,
For know (lov'd fair) since the first providence
Made me your rescue, I have read you through,
And with a wondring pity look'd on you,
I have observ'd the method of your blood,
And waited on it even with sympathy
Of a like Red, and Paleness in mine own;
I knew which blush was angers, which was loves,
Which was the eye of sorrow, which of truth:
And could distinguish honor from disdain
In every change: and you are worth my study;
I saw your voluntary misery
Sustain'd in travel: A disguis'd Maid
Wearied with seeking: and with finding lost,
Neglected, where you hop'd most, or put by;
I saw it, and have laid it to my heart,
And though it were my Sister which was righted,
Yet being by your wrong, I put off nature,
Could not be glad, where I [was] bound to triumph;
My care for you, so drown'd respect of her;
Nor did I only apprehend your bonds,
But studied your release: and for that day
Have I made up a ransom, brought [you] health
Preservative 'gainst chance, or injury
Please you apply it to the grief; my self.

Leo. Humph.

Phi. Nay, do not think me less than such a cure,
Antonio was not; And 'tis possible
Philippo may succeed: My bloud and house
Are as deep rooted: and as fairly spread,
As Mark-antonio['s], and in that, all seek,
Fortune hath given him no precedency:
As for our thanks to Nature I may burn
Incense as much as he; I ever durst
Walk with Antonio by the self-same light
At any feast, or triumph, and ne'r car'd
Which side my Lady or her woman took
In their survey; I durst have told my tale too
Though his discourse new ended.

Leo. My repulse.

Phil. Let not that torture you, w[h]ich makes me happy
Nor think that conscience (fair) which is no shame
'Twas no repulse, [I] was your Dowry rather:
For then methought a thousand graces met
To make you lovely, and ten thousand stories
Of constant virtue, which you then out-reach'd,
In one example did proclaim you rich:
Nor do I think you wretched, or disgrac'd,
After this suffering, and do therefore take
Advantage of your need; but rather know
You are the charge and business of those powers,
Who, like best Tutors, do inflict hard tasks
Upon great Natures, and of noblest hopes;
Read trivial Lessons, and halfe lines to sluggs;
They that live long, and never feel mischance,
Spend more than halfe their age in ignorance.

Leo. 'Tis well you think so.

Phi. You shall think so too,
You shall sweet Leocadia, and do so.

Leo. Good Sir no more; you have too fair a shape
To play so foul a part in, as the Tempter:
Say that I [could] make peace with fortune, who,
Who should absolve me of my vow yet; ha?
My Contract made?

Phi. Your Contract?

Leo. Yes, my Contract,
Am I not his? his wife?

Phi. Sweet, nothing less.

Leo. I have no name then?

Phi. Truly then you have not;
How can you be his wife, who was before
Anothers Husband?

Leo. Oh, though he dispence
With his faith given, I cannot with mine.

Phi. You do mistake (cleer soul) his precontract
Doth annul yours, and you have giv'n no faith
That ties you in Religion, or humanity,
You rather sin against that greater precept,
To covet what's anothers; Sweet, you do
Believe me, who dare not urge dishonest things,
Remove that scruple therefore, and but take
Your dangers now, into your judgements skale
And weigh them with your safeties: Think but whither
Now you can goe: what you can do to live?
How near you ha' barr'd all Ports [to] your own succor,
Except this one that I here open: Love
Should you be left alone, you were a prey
To the wild lust of any, who would look
Upon this shape like a temptation
And think you want the man you personate
Would not regard this shift, which love put on
As virtue forc'd, but covet it like vice;
So should you live the slander of each Sex,
And be the child of error and of shame,
And which is worse, even Mark-antonie
Would be call'd just, to turn a wanderer off,
And Fame report you worthy his contempt;
Where if you make new choice, and settle here
There is no further tumult in this flood,
Each current keeps his course, and all suspitions
Shall return honors: Came you forth a Maid?
Go home a Wife? alone? and in disguise?
Go home a waited Leocadia:
Go home, and by the vir[t]ue of that charm
Transform all mischiefs, as you are transform'd;
Turn your offended Fathers wrath to wonder,
A[n]d all his loud grief to a silent welcome:
Unfold the Riddles you have made, what say you?

Enter Sanchio carried, Alphonso, and Servants.

Now is the time; delay is but despair,
If you be chang'd, let a kiss tell me so.

Leo. I am: but how, I rather feel than know.

Sanc. Come Sir; you are welcome now to Barcelona,
Take off my hood.

Phi. Who be these? stay, let's view 'em?

Alph. 'Twas a long journey: are you not weary Sir?

Sanc. Weary? I could have rid it in mine Armour.

Leo. Alas!

Phi. What ail you dear?

Leo. It is my Father.

Phi. Your Father: which?

Leo. He that is carried: oh
Let us make hence.

Phi. For loves sake: good my heart.

Leo. Into some house before he see me.

Phi. Dear,
Be not thus frighted.

Leo. Oh his wrath is tempest.

Phi. Sweet, take your spirit to you, and stay, be't he,
He cannot know you in this habit, and me
I'm sure he less knows, for he never saw me.

Alph. Ha? who is that? my Son Philippo?

Phi. Sir.

Alph. Why, what make you here? Is this Salamanca?
And that your study? ha? nay stay him too,
We'll see him by his leave.

Serv. You must not strive Sir.

Alph. No, no, come near.

Sanc. My Daughter: Leocadia?

Alph. How Sir, your Daughter?

Sanc. Yes Sir, and as sure
As that's your Son: Come hither: what now? run
Out o' your sex? breech'd? was't not enough
At once to leave thy Father, and thine honor,
Unless th' hadst quit thy self too.

Phi. Sir, what fault
She can be urg'd of, I must take on me
The guilt and punishment.

Sanc. You must Sir: how
If you shall not, though you must? I deal not
With boys Sir; I, you have a Father here
Shall do me right.

Alph. Thou art not mad Philippo?
Art thou Mark-antonie? Son to Leonardo?
Our business is to them.

Sanc. No, no, no, no.
I'll ha' the business now; with you, none else,
Pray you let's speak, in private: (carry me to him)
Your Son's the ravisher Sir, and here I find him:
I hope you'll give me cause to think you noble,
And do me right, with your sword Sir, as becomes
One gentleman of honor to another;
All this is fair Sir: here's the Sea fast by,
Upon the sands, we will determine
'Tis that I call you to; let's make no daies on't,
I'll lead your way; to the sea-side Rascals.

Phil. Sir
I would beseech your stay; he may not follow you.

San. No, turn, I'll kill him here then: Slaves, Rogues, Bloks.
Why do you not bear me to him? ha' you been
Acquainted with my motions, loggs, so long
And yet not know to time 'em.

Phi. Were you Sir
Not impotent.

Alph. Hold you your peace Boy.

Sanc. Impotent,
'Death, I'll cut his throat first, and then his Fathers.

Alph. You must provide you then a sharper Razor
Than is your tongue, for I not fear your sword.

Sanc. 'Heart bear me to either of 'em.

Phi. Pray Sir your patience.

Enter Governor and Attendants.

Alph. My curse light on thee if thou stay him.

Phi. Hold.

Gov. Why, what's the matter, Gentlemen, what tumult
Is this you raise i'th' street? before my door?
Know you what 'tis to draw a weapon here?

Sanc. Yes, and to use it (bear me up to him, Rogues)
Thus, at a Traitors heart.

Alph. Truer than thine.

Gov. Strike, strike; Some of the people disarm 'em,
Kill 'em if they resist.

Phi. Nay generous Sir
Let not your courtesie turn fury now.

Gov. Lay hold upon 'em, take away their weapons,
I will be worth an answer, e'r we part.

Phi. 'Tis the Governor Sir.

Alph. I yield my self.

Sanch. My Sword? what thinkst thou of me? pray thee tell me.

1 Attend. As of a Gentleman.

Sanch. No more?

1 Attend. Of worth,
And quality.

Sanch. And I should quit my sword
There were small worth or quality in that friend;
Pray thee learn thou more worth and quality
Than to demand it.

Gov. Force it I say.

1 Attend. The Governor
You hear, commands.

Sanch. The Governr shall pardon me.

Phi. How, Leocadia gone again? [Exit Phi.

Sanch. He shall friend
I' th' point of honor; by his leave, so tell him,
His person and authority I acknowledge,
And do submit me to it; but my Sword,
He shall excuse me, were he fifteen Governors;
That and I dwell together, and must yet
Till my hands part, assure him.

Gov. I say force it.

Sanch. Stay, hear me. Hast thou ever read Caranza?
Understandst thou honor, Noble Governor?

Gov. For that we'll have more fit dispute.

Sanch. Your name Sir?

Gov. You shall know that too: but on colder terms,
Your blood and brain are now too hot to take it.

Sanch. Force my Sword from me? this is an affront.

Gov. Bring 'em away.

Sanch. You'll do me reparation. [Exeunt.

Enter Philippo.

Phi. I have for ever lost her, and am lost,
And worthily: my lameness hath undone me;
She's gone hence, asham'd of me: yet I seek her.
Will she be ever found to me again,
Whom she saw stand so poorly, and dare nothing
In her defence, here? when I should have drawn
This Sword out like a Meteor, and have shot it
In both our Parents eies, and left 'em blind
Unto their impotent angers? Oh I am worthy
On whom this loss and scorn should light to death
Without the pity that should wish me better,
Either alive, or in my Epitaph.

Enter Leonardo, Mark-Antonio.

Leo. Well Son, your Father is too near himself
And hath too much of nature to put off
Any affection that belongs to you,
I could have only wish'd you had acquainted
Her Father, whom it equally concerns,
Though y'had presum'd on me: it might have open'd
An easier gate, and path to both our joyes:
For though I am none of those flinty Fathers
That when their children do but natural things,
Turn rock and offence straight: yet Mark-antonio,
All are not of my quarry.

Mar. 'Tis my fear Sir;
And if hereafter I should e'r abuse
So great a piety, it were my malice.

Enter Attendants.

Atten. We must intreat you Gentlemen to take
Another room, the Governor is coming
Here, on some business.

Enter Governor, Sanchio, Alphonso. Attendants.

Mar. We will give him way.

Sanch. I will have right Sir on you; that believe,
If there be any Marshals Court in Spain.

Gov. For that Sir we shall talk.

Sanch. —— Do not slight me,
Though I am without a Sword.

Gov. Keep to your Chair Sir.

Sanch. —— Let me fall, and hurle my chair! (slaves) at him.

Gov. You are the more temper'd man Sir: let me intreat
Of you the manner how this brawl fell out.

Alph. Fell out? I know not how: nor do I care much:
But here we came Sir to this Town together,
Both in one business, and one wrong, engag'd,
To seek one Leonardo, an old Genoese,
I ha' said enough there; would you more? false father
Of a false son, call'd Mark-antonio,
Who had stole both our Daughters; and which Father
Conspiring with his Son in treachery,
It seem'd, to flie our satisfaction,
Was, as we heard, come private to this Town
Here to take ship for Italy.

Leo. You heard
More than was true then: by the fear, or falshood,
And though I thought not to reveal my self
(Pardon my manners in't to you) for some
Important reasons; yet being thus character'd
And challeng'd, know I dare appear, and doe
To who dares threaten.

Mar. I say he is not worthy
The name of man, or any honest preface,
That dares report or credit such a slander.
Do you Sir say it?

Alph. I doe say it.

Gov. Hold.
Is this your father Signior Mark-antonio?
You have ill requited me thus to conceal him
From him would honor him, and do him service.

Enter Eugenia.

Leon. 'Twas not his fault Sir.

Eug. Where's my Lord?

Gov. Sweet-heart.

Eug. Know you these Gentlemen? they are all the fathers
Unto our friends.

Gov. So it appears my Dove.

Sanch. Sir, I say nothing: I do want a Sword.
And till I have a Sword I will say nothing.

Eug. Good Sir, command these Gentlemen their Arms;
Entreat 'em as your friends, not as your prisoners.
Where be their Swords?

Gov. Restore each man his weapon.

Sanch. It seems thou hast not read Caranza, fellow
I must have reparation of honor,
As well as this: I find that wounded.

Gov. Sir,
I did not know your quality, if I had
'Tis like I should have done you more respects.

Sanch. It is sufficient, by Caranza's rule.

Eug. I know it is Sir.

Sanch. Have you read Caranza Lady?

Eug. If you mean him that writ upon the Duel,
He was my kinsman.

Sanch. Lady, then you know
By the right noble writings of your kinsman,
My honor is as dear to me, as the Kings.

Eug. 'Tis very true Sir.

Sanch. Therefore [I] must crave
Leave to go on now with my first dependance.

Eug. What ha' you more?

Gov. None here good Signior.

Sanch. I will, refer me to Caranza still.

Eug. Nay love, I prethee let me manage this.
With whom is't Sir?

Sanch. With that false man Alphonso.

Eug. Why he has th' advantage Sir, in legs.

Sanch. But I
In truth, in hand and heart, and a good Sword.

Eug. But how if he will not stand you Sir?

Alph. For that,
Make it no question Lady, I will stick
My feet in earth down by him, where he dare.

Sanch. O would thou wouldst.

Alph. I'll do't.

Sanch. Let me kiss him.
I fear thou wilt not yet.

Eug. Why Gentlemen,
If you'll proceed according to Caranza,
Methinks an easier way, were [two] good chairs,
So you would be content Sir, to be bound,
'Cause he is lame? I'll fit you with like weapons,
Pistols and Ponyards, and ev'n end it. If
The difference between you be so mortal,
It cannot be tane up.

Sanch. Tane up? take off
This head first.

Alph. Come bind me in a chair.

Eug. Yes, do.

Gait. What mean you, Dove.

Eug. Let me alone,
And set 'em at their distance: when you ha' done
Lend me two Ponyards; I'll have Pistols ready
Quickly. [Exit.

Enter Philippo.

Phi. She is not here Mark-antonio,
Saw you not Leocadia?

Mar. Not I brother.

Phi. Brother let's speak with you; you were false unto her.

Mar. I was, but have ask'd pardon: why do you urge it?

Phi. You were not worthy of her.

Mar. May be I was not;
But 'tis not well, you tell me so.

Phi. My Sister
Is not so fair.

Mar. It skils not.

Phi. Nor so virtuous.

Mar. Yes, she must be as virtuous.

Phi. I would fain—

Mar. What brother?

Phi. Strike you.

Mar. I shall not bear strokes,
Though I do these strange words.

Phi. Will you not kill me?

Mar. For what good brother?

Phi. Why, for speaking well
Of Leocadia.

Mar. No indeed.

Phi. Nor ill
Of Theodosia?

Enter Eugenia, Leocadia, Theodosia, and one with two Pistols.

Mar. Neither.

Phi. Fare you well then.

Eug. Nay, you shall have as noble seconds too
As ever Duelists had; give 'em their weapons:
Now St. Jago.

Sanch. Are they charg'd?

Eug. Charg'd Sir?
I warrant you.

Alph. Would they were well discharg'd.

Sanch. I like a Sword much better I confess.

Eug. Nay, wherefore stay you? shall I mend your mark?
Strike one another, thorough these?

Phi. My love.

Alph. My Theodosia.

Sanch. I ha' not the heart.

Alph. Nor I.

Eug. Why here is a dependence ended.
Unbind that Gentleman; come take here to you
Your Sons and Daughters, and be friends. A feast
Waits you within, is better than your fray:
Lovers, take you your own, and all forbear
Under my roof, either to blush or fear.
My love, what say you? could Caranza himself
Carry a business better?

Gov. It is well:
All are content I hope, and we well eas'd.
If they for whom we have done all this be pleas'd. [Exeunt.

[Prologue.]

To this place Gentlemen, full many a day
We have bid ye welcome; and to many a Play:
And those whose angry souls were not diseas'd
With Law, or lending Money, we have pleas'd;
And make no doubt to do again. This night
No mighty matter, nor no light,
We must intreat you look for: A good tale,
Told in two hours, we will not fail
If we be perfect, to rehearse ye: New
I am sure it is, and handsome; but how true
Let them dispute that writ it. Ten to one
We please the Women, and I would know that man
Follows not their example? If ye mean
To know the Play well, travel with the Scene.
For it lies upon the Road; if we chance tire,
As ye are good men, leave us not i'th' mire,
Another bait may mend us: If you grow
A little gall'd or weary; cry but hoa,
And we'll stay for ye. When our journey ends
Every mans Pot I hope, and all part friends.

THE
DOUBLE MARRIAGE.

A Tragedy.

The Persons Represented in the Play.

WOMEN.

The Scene Naples.

The principal Actors were

Actus Primus. Scæna Prima.

Enter Virolet, and Boy.

Vir. Boy.

Boy. Sir?

Vir. If my wife seek me, tell her that
Designs of weight, too heavy for her knowledge,
Exact my privacy.

Boy. I shall, Sir.

Vir. Do then,
And leave me to my self.

Boy. 'Tis a raw morning
And would you please to interpret that for duty
Which you may construe boldness, I could wish
To arm your self against it, you would use
More of my service.

Vir. I have heat within here,
A noble heat (good boy) to keep it off,
I shall not freeze; deliver my excuse, [Enter Juliana.
And you have done your part.

Boy. That is prevented,
My Lady follows you.

Vir. Since I must be crost then,
Let her perform that office.

Boy. I obey you. [Exit.

Vir. Prethee to bed; to be thus fond's more tedious
Than if I were neglected.

Jul. 'Tis the fault then
Of Love and Duty, which I would fall under,
Rather than want that care which you may challenge
As due to my obedience.

Vir. I confess
This tenderness argues a loving Wife,
And more deserves my hearts best thanks, than anger.
Yet I must tell ye Sweet, you do exceed
In your affection, if you would ingross me
To your delights alone.

Jul. I am not jealous,
If my embraces have distasted you,
As I must grant you every way so worthy
That 'tis not in weak woman to deserve you,
Much less in miserable me, that want
Those graces, some more fortunate are stor'd with.
Seek any whom you please, and I will study
With my best service to deserve those favors,
That shall yield you contentment.

Vir. You are mistaken.

Jul. No, I am patient Sir, and so good morrow;
I will not be offensive.

Vir. Hear my reasons.

Jul. Though in your life a widdows bed receives me,
For your sake I must love it. May she prosper
That shall succeed me in it, and your ardor
Last longer to her.

Vir. By the love I bear,
First to my Countreys peace; next to thy self
To whom compar'd, my life I rate at nothing;
Stood here a Lady that were the choice abstract
Of all the beauties nature ever fashion'd,
Or Art gave ornament to, compar'd to thee,
Thus as thou art obedient and loving,
I should contemn and loath her.

Jul. I doe believe.
How I am blest
In my assur'd belief! this is unfeign'd;
And why this sadness then?

Vir. Why Juliana,
Believe me, these my sad and dull retirements,
My often, nay almost continued Fasts,
Sleep banisht from my eyes, all pleasures, strangers,
Have neither root nor growth from any cause
That may arrive at Woman. Shouldst thou be,
As chastity forbid, false to my bed,
I should lament my fortune, perhaps punish
Thy falshood, and then study to forget thee:
But that which like a never-emptied spring,
Feeds high the torrent of my swelling grief,
Is what my Countrey suffers; there's a ground
Where sorrow may be planted, and spring up,
Through yielding rage, and womanish despair,
And yet not shame the owner.

Jul. I do believe it true,
Yet I should think my self a happy woman,
If, in this general and timely mourning,
I might or give to you, or else receive
A little lawful comfort.

Vir. Thy discretion
In this may answer for me; look on Naples
The Countrey where we both were born and bred,
Naples the Paradise of Italy,
As that is of the earth; Naples, that was
The sweet retreat of all the worthiest Romans,
When they had shar'd the spoils of the whole world;
This flourishing Kingdom, whose inhabitants
For wealth and bravery, liv'd like petty Kings,
Made subject now to such a tyrannie.
As that fair City that receiv'd her name
From Constantine the great, now in the power
Of barbarous Infidels, may forget her own;
To look with pity on our miseries;
So far in our calamities we transcend her.
For since this Arragonian tyrant, Ferrand,
Seiz'd on the gover[n]ment, there's nothing left us
That we can call our own, but our afflictions.

Jul. And hardly those; the Kings strange cruelty,
Equals all presidents of tyranny.

Vir. Equal say you?
He has out-gone, the worst compar'd to him;
Nor Phalaris, nor Dionysius,
Caligula, nor Nero can be mention'd;
They yet as Kings, abus'd their Regal power;
This as a Merchant, all the Countreys fat,
He wholly does ingross unto himself;
Our Oils he buys at his own price, then sells them
To us, at dearer rates; our Plate and Jewels,
Under a fain'd pretence of publique use,
He borrows; which deny'd his instruments force.
The Races of our horses he takes from us;
Yet keeps them in our pastures; rapes of Matrons,
And Virgins, are too frequent; never man
Yet thank'd him for a pardon; for Religion,
It is a thing he dreams not of.

Jul. I have heard,
How true it is, I know not; that he sold
The Bishoprick of Tarent to a Jew,
For thirteen thousand Duckets.

Vir. I was present,
And saw the money paid; the day would leave me,
E'r I could number out his impious actions;
Or what the miserable Subject suffers;
And can you entertain in such a time,
A thought of dalliance? tears, and sighs, and groans,
Would better now become you.

Jul. They indeed are,
The only weapons, our poor Sex can use,
When we are injur'd; and they may become us;
But for me[n] that were born free men, of Ranck;
That would be Registred Fathers of their Countrey;
And to have on their Tombs in Golden Letters,
The noble stile of Tyrant-killers, written;
To weep like fools and Women, and not like wise men.
To practise a redress, deserves a name,
Which fits not me to give.

Vir. Thy grave reproof:
If what thou dost desire, were possible
To be effected, might well argue it,
As wise as loving; but if you consider,
With what strong guards this Tyrant is defended:
Ruffins, and male-contents drawn from all quarters;
That only know, to serve his impious Will;
The Cittadels built by him in the neck
Of this poor City; the invincible strength,
Nature by Art assisted, gave this Castle;
And above all his fear; admitting no man
To see him, but unarm'd; it being death
For any to approach him with a weapon.
You must confess, unless our hands were Cannons,
To batter down these walls; our weak breath Mines,
To blow his Forts up; or our curses lightning,
To force a passage to him; and then blast him;
Our power is like to yours, and we, like you,
Weep our misfortunes.

Jul. Walls of Brass resist not
A noble undertaking; nor can vice,
Raise any Bulwark, to make good the place,
Where virtue seeks to enter; then to fall
In such a brave attempt, were such an honor
That Brutus, did he live again, would envy.
Were my dead Father in you, and my Brothers;
Nay, all the Ancestors I am deriv'd from;
As you, in being what you are, are all these.
I had rather wear a mourning Garment for you,
And should be more proud of my widdowhood;
You dying for the freedom of this Countrey;
Than if I were assur'd, I should enjoy
A perpetuity of life and pleasure
With you, the Tyrant living.

Vir. Till this minute,
I never heard thee speak; O more than woman!
And more to be belov'd; can I find out
A Cabinet, to lock a secret in,
Of equal trust to thee? all doubts, and fears,
That scandalize your Sex, be far from me;
Thou shalt partake my near and dearest councils,
And further them with thine.

Jul. I will be faithful.

Vir. Know then this day, stand heaven propitious to us,
Our liberty begins.

Jul. In Ferrands death?

Vir. 'Tis plotted love, and strongly, and believe it,
For nothing else could do it, 'twas the thought,
How to proceed in this design and end it,
That made strange my embraces.

Jul. Curs'd be she,
That's so indulgent to her own delights,
That for their satisfaction, would give
A stop to such a glorious enterprize:
For me, I would not for the world, I had been
Guilty of such a crime; go on and prosper.
Go on my dearest Lord, I love your Honor
Above my life; nay, yours; my prayers go with you;
Which I will strengthen with my tears: the wrongs
Of this poor Countrey, edge your sword; Oh may it
Pierce deep into this Tyrants heart, and then
When you return bath'd in his guilty blood;
I'll wash you clean with fountains of true joy.
But who are your assistants? though I am
So covetous of your glory, that I could wish
You had no sharer in it. [Knock.

Vir. Be not curious.
They come, however you command my bosom,
To them I would not have you seen.

Jul. I am gone Sir,
Be confident; and may my resolution
Be present with you. [Exit.

Vir. Such a Masculine spirit,
With more than Womans virtues, were a Dower
To weigh down a Kings fortune.

Enter Brissonet, Camillo, Ronvere.

Briss. Good day to you.

Cam. You are an early stirrer.

Vir. What new face,
Bring you along?

Ron. If I stand doubted Sir?
As by your looks I guess it: you much injure
A man that loves, and truly loves this Countrey,
With as much zeal as you doe; one that hates
The Prince by whom it suffers, and as deadly;
One that dares step as far to gain my freedom,
As any he that breaths; that wears a sword
As sharp as any's.

Cam. Nay, no more comparisons.

Ron. What you but whisper, I dare speak aloud,
Stood the King by; have means to put in act too
What you but coldly plot; if this deserve then
Suspition in the best, the boldest, wisest?
Pursue your own intents, I'll follow mine;
And if I not out-strip you—

Briss. Be assur'd Sir,
A conscience like this can never be ally'd
To treachery.

Cam. Who durst speak so much,
But one that is like us, a sufferer,
And stands as we affected?

Vir. You are cozen'd
And all undone; every Intelligencer
Speaks Treason with like licence; is not this
Ronvere, that hath for many years been train'd
In Ferrand's School, a man in trust and favour,
Rewarded too, and highly?

Cam. Grant all this,
The thought of what he was, being as he is now;
A man disgrac'd, and with contempt thrown off;
Will spurr him to revenge, as swift as they,
That never were in favour.

Vir. Poor and childish.

Briss. His regiment is cast, that is most certain;
And his command in the Castle given away.

Cam. That on my knowledge.

Vir. Grosser still, what Shepheard
Would yield the poor remainder of his Flock,
To a known Wolf; though he put on the habit,
Of a most faithful dog, and bark like one?
As this but only talks.

Cam. Yes, he has means too.

Vir. I know it to my grief, weak men I know it;
To make his peace, if there were any war
Between him and his Master, betraying
Our innocent lives.

Ron. You are too suspitious
And I have born too much, beyond my temper,
Take your own waies, I'll leave you.

Vir. You may stay now;
You have enough, and all indeed you fish'd for;
But one word Gentlemen: have you discover'd
To him alone our plot?

Briss. To him and others, that are at his devotion.

Vir. Worse and worse:
For were he only conscious of our purpose,
Though with the breach of Hospitable laws,
In my own house, I'de silence him for ever:
But what is past my help, is past my care.
I have a life to lose.

Cam. Have better hopes.

Ron. And when you know, with what charge I have further'd
Your noble undertaking, you will swear me
Another man; the guards I have corrupted:
And of the choice of all our noblest youths,
Attir'd like Virgins; such as Hermits would
Welcome to their sad cells, prepar'd a Maske;
As done for the Kings pleasure.

Vir. For his safety
I rather fear; and as a pageant to
Usher our ruine.

Ron. We as Torch-bearers
Will wait on these, but with such art and cunning;
I have conveigh'd sharp poniards in the Wax,
That we may pass, though search't through all his guards
Without suspition, and in all his glory,
Oppress him, and with safety.

Cam. 'Tis most strange.

Vir. To be effected.

Ron. You are doubtful still.

Briss. But we resolv'd to follow him, and if you
Desist now Virolet, we will say 'tis fear,
Rather than providence. [Exeunt.

Cam. And so we leave you.

Enter Julian.

Jul. To your wise doubts, and to my better counsels;
Oh! pardon me my Lord, and trust me too;
Let me not like Cassandra prophesie truths,
And never be believ'd, before the mischief:
I have heard all; know this Ronvere a villain,
A villain that hath tempted me, and plotted
This for your ruine, only to make way
To his hopes in my embraces; at more leisure
I will acquaint you, wherefore I conceal'd it
To this last minute; if you stay, you are lost,
And all prevention too late. I know,
And 'tis to me known only, a dark cave
Within this house, a part of my poor Dower,
Where you may lie conceal'd, as in the center,
Till this rough blast be o'r, where there is air,
More then to keep in life; Ferrand will find you,
So curious his fears are.

Vir. 'Tis better fall
Than hide my head, now 'twas thine own advice,
My friends engag'd too.

Jul. You stand further bound,
Than to weak men that have betrai'd themselves,
Or to my counsel, though then just and loyal:
Your phansie hath been good, but not your judgement,
In choice of such to side you; will you leap
From a steep Tower, because a desperate fool
Does it, and trusts the wind to save his hazard?
There's more expected from you; all mens eies are fixt
On Virolet, to help, not hurt them;
Make good their hopes and ours, you have sworn often,
That you dare credit me; and allow'd me wise
Although a woman; even Kings in great actions,
Wait opportunity, and so must you, Sir,
Or loose your understanding.

Vir. Thou art constant;
I am uncertain fool, a most blind fool;
Be thou my guide.

Jul. If I fail to direct you,
For torment or reward, when I am wretched,
May constancy forsake me.

Vir. I've my safety.

Enter Castruchio and Villio.

Vil. Why are you rapt thus?

Cast. Peace, thou art a fool.

Vil. But if I were a flatterer like your worship,
I should be wise and rich too;
There are few else that prosper, Bawds excepted,
They hold an equal place there.

Cast. A shrewd knave;
But oh the King, the happy King!

Vil. Why happy?
In bearing a great burthen.

Cast. What bears he,
That's born on Princes shoulders?

Vil. A Crowns weight,
Which sets more heavy on his head, than the Oar
Slaves dig out of the Mines, of which 'tis made.

Cast. Thou worthily art his fool, to think that heavy
That carries him in the air; the reverence due
To that most sacred Gold, makes him ador'd,
His Footsteps kist, his smiles to raise a begger
To a Lords fortune; and when he but frowns,
The City quakes.

Vil. Or the poor Cuckolds in it,
Coxcombs I should say, I am of a fool,
Grown a Philosopher, to hear this parasite.

Cast. The delicates he is serv'd with see and envy.

Vil. I had rather have an Onion with a stomack,
Than these without one.

Cast. The Celestial Musick,
Such as the motion of the eternal sphears [Still musick.
Yields Jove, when he drinks Nectar.

Vil. Here's a fine knave, yet hath too many fellows.

Cast. Then the beauties,
That with variety of ch[oy]ce embraces, [These pass o'r.
Renew his age.

Vil. Help him to crouch rather,
And the French Cringe, they are excellent Surgeons that way.

Cast. O Majesty! let others think of heaven,
While I contemplate thee.

Vil. This is not Atheisme, but Court observance.

Cast. Now the God appears, usher'd with earth-quakes.

Vil. Base Idolatry. [Flourish.

Enter Ferrand, Guard, Women, Servants.

Fer. These meats are poisoned, hang
The Cooks; no note more on
Forfeit of your fingers; do you
Envie me a minutes slumber, what are these?

1 Gu. The Ladies appointed by your Majesty.

Fer. To the purpose, for what appointed?

1 Gu. For your graces pleasure.

Fer. To suck away the little blood is left me,
By my continual cares; I am not apt now,
Injoy them first, taste of my Diet once;
And your turns serv'd, for fifty Crowns apiece
Their Husbands may redeem them.

Wo. Great Sir, mercy.

Fer. I am deaf, why stare you? is what we command
To be disputed, who's this? bring you the dead
T' upbraid me to my face?

Cast. Hold Emperor;
Hold mightiest of Kings, I am thy vassal,
Thy footstool that durst not presume to look
On thy offended face.

Fer. Castruchio rise.

Cast. Let not the lightning of thy eie consume me,
Nor hear that musical tongue, in dreadful thunder,
That speaks all mercy.

Vil. Here's no flattering rogue.

Cast. Ferrand, that is the Father of his people,
The glory of mankind.

Fer. No more, no word more;
And while [I] tell my troubles to my self,
Be Statues without motion [or] voice,
Though to be flatter'd is an itch to greatness,
It now offends me.

Vil. Here's the happy man;
But speak who dares.

Fer. When I was innocent;
I yet remember I could eat and sleep,
Walk unaffrighted, but now terrible to others:
My guards cannot keep fear from me
It still pursues me; Oh! my wounded conscience,
The Bed I would rest in, is stuft with thorns;
The grounds strew'd o'r with adders, and with aspicks
Where e'r I set my foot, but I am in,
And what was got with cruelty, with blood,
Must be defended, though this life's a hell,
I fear a worse hereafter. Ha!

Enter Ronvere and Guard.

Ron. My Lord.

Fer. Welcome Ronvere, welcome my golden plummet
With which I sound mine enemies depths and angers,
Hast thou discover'd?

Ron. Al[l] as you could wish Sir,
The Plot, and the contrivers; was made one
Of the conspiracie.

Fer. Is Virolet in?

Ron. The head of all, he only scented me:
And from his fear, that I plaid false is fled;
The rest I have in fetters.

Fer. Death and Hell.
Next to my mortal foe the pirate Sesse,
I aim'd at him; he's virtuous, and wise,
A lover of his freedom and his Countries
Dangerous to such as govern by the sword,
And so to me: no tract which way he went,
No means to overtake him?

Ron. There's some hope left;
But with a rough hand, to be seiz'd upon.

Fer. What is't?

Ron. If any know, or where he is,
Or which way he is fled, it is his wife;
Her with his Father I have apprehended,
And brought among the rest.

Fer. 'Twas wisely order'd,
Go fetch them in, and let my executioners [Exit Ronvere.
Appear in horror with the rack.

Vil. I take it Signior, this is no time for you to flatter,
Or me to fool in.

Cast. Thou art wise in this, let's off, it is unsafe to be near Jove.
When he begins to thunder.

Vil. Good morality. [Exit.

Fer. I that have pierc'd into the hearts of men;
Forc'd them to lay open with my looks,
Secrets, whose least discovery was death,
Will rend for what concerns my life, the fortress,
Of a weak womans faith.

Enter Ronvere, Guard, Executioners, with a Rack, Camillo, Brissonet, Pandulfo, Juliana.

Ca. What e're we suffer,
The weight that loads a Traitors
Heart [sit] ever, heavy on thine.

Briss. As we are caught by thee,
Fall thou by others.

Ron. Pish poor fools, your curses will
Never reach me.

Jul. Now by my Virolets life;
Father, this is a glorious stage of murther.
Here are fine properties too, and such spectators,
As will expect good action, to the life;
Let us perform our parts, and we shall live,
When these are rotten, would we might begin once;
Are you the Master of the company?
Troth you are tedious now.

Fer. She does deride me.

Jul. Thee and thy power, if one poor syllable
Could win me an assurance of thy favor,
I would not speak it, I desire to be
The great example of thy cruelty,
To whet which on, know Ferrand, I alone
Can make discovery, where my Virolet is,
Whose life, I know thou aim'st at, but if tortures
Compel me to't, may hope of heaven forsake me;
I dare thy worst.

Fer. Are we contemn'd?

Jul. Thou art,
Thou and thy Ministers, my life is thine;
But in the death[, the] victory shall be mine.

Pand. We have such a Mistriss here to teach us courage,
That cowards might learn from her.

Fer. You are slow; [Put on the rack.
Begin the Scene thou miserable fool,
For so I'll make thee.

Jul. 'Tis not in thy reach;
I am happy in my sufferings, thou most wretched.

Fer. So brave! I'll tame you yet, pluck hard villains;
Is she insensible? no sigh nor groan? or is she dead?

Jul. No tyrant, though I suffer
More than a woman, beyond flesh and blood;
'Tis in a cause so honourable, that I scorn
With any sign that may express a sorrow
To shew I do repent.

Fer. Confess yet,
And thou shalt be safe.

Jul. 'Tis wrapt up in my soul,
From whence thou canst not force it.

Fer. I will be
Ten daies a killing thee.

Jul. Be twenty thousand,
My glory lives the longer.

Ron. 'Tis a miracle,
She tires th' executioners,
And me.

Fer. Unloose her, I am conquer'd, I must take
Some other way; reach her my chair, in honor
Of her invincible fortitude.

Ron. Will you not
Dispatch the rest?

Fer. When I seem merciful,
Assure thy self Ronvere, I am most cruel.
Thou wonder of thy Sex, and of this Nation,
That hast chang'd my severity to mercy,
Not to thy self alone, but to thy people,
In which I do include these men, my enemies:
Unbind them.

Pand. This is strange.

Fer. For your intent
Against my life, which you dare not denie,
I only ask one service.

Cam. Above hope.

Fer. There rides a Pyrate neer, the Duke of Sesse,
My enemy and this Countreys, that in bonds
Holds my dear friend Ascanio: free this friend:
Or bring the Pyrats head; besides your pardon,
And honor of the action, your reward
Is forty thousand Ducates. And because
I know that Virolet is as bold as wise,
Be he your General, as pledge of your faith,
That you will undertake it, let this old man,
And this most constant Matron stay with me:
Of whom, as of my self, I will be careful;
She shall direct you where her Husband is.
Make choice of any ship you think most useful.
They are rig'd for you. [Exeunt Guard, with Juliana and Pand.

Bris. We with joy accept it.

Cam. And will proclaim King Ferrant merciful. [Exeunt.

Ron. The mysterie of this, my Lord? or are you
Chang'd in your nature?

Fer. I'll make thee private to it.
The lives of these weak men, and desperate woman,
Would no way have secur'd me, had I took them;
'Tis Virolet I aim at; he has power,
And knows to hurt. If they encounter Sesse,
And he prove conqueror, I am assur'd
They'll find no mercy: if that they prove victors,
I shall recover, with my friend his head
I most desire of all men.

Ron. Now I have it.

Fer. I'll make thee understand the drift of all.
So we stand sure, thus much for those that fall. [Exeunt.

[Actus Secundus. Scæna Prima.]

Enter Boateswain and Gunner.

Boats. Lay here before the wind; up with your Canvase,
And let her work, the wind begins to whistle;
Clap all her streamers on, and let her dance,
As if she were the Minion of the Ocean.
Let her bestride the billows till they roar,
And curle their wanton heads. Ho, below there:
Ho, ho, within.
Lay her North-east, and thrust her missen out,
The day grows fair and clear, and the wind courts us.
Oh for a lusty sail now, to give chase to.

Gun. A stubborn Bark, that wou'd but bear up to us,
And change a broadside bravely.

Boats. Where's the Duke?

Gun. I have not seen him stir to day.

Boats. Oh Gunner,
What bravery dwells in his age, and what valour!
And to his friends, what gentleness and bounty!
How long have we been inhabitants at Sea here?

Gun. Some fourteen years.

Boats. By fourteen lives I swear then,
This Element never nourisht such a Pirate;
So great, so fearless, and so fortunate,
So patient in his want, in Act so valiant.
How many sail of well mann'd ships before us,
As the Bonuto does the flying Fish,
Have we pursued and scour'd, that to outstrip us,
They have been fain to hang their very shirts on?
What Gallies have we bang'd, and sunk, and taken;
Whose only fraughts were fire, and stern defiance?
And nothing spoke but Bullet in all these.
How like old Neptune have I seen our General
Standing i'th' Poop, and tossing his Steel Trident,
Commanding both the Sea and Winds to serve him!

Gun. His Daughter too, which is the honor Boatswain,
Of all her sex; that Martial Maid.

Boats. A brave wench.

Gun. How oftentimes, a fight being new begun,
Has she leap'd down, and took my Linstock from me,
And crying, now fly righ[t], and fir'd all my chasers!
Then like the Image of the warlike Goddess,
Her Target brac'd upon her arm, her sword drawn,
And anger in her eies leapt up again,
And bravely ha[l]'d the Bark. I have wondred Boatswain,
That in a body made so delicate,
So soft for sweet embraces, so much fire,
And manly soul, not starting at a danger.

Boats. Her noble Father got her in his fury,
And so she proves a Soldier.

Gun. This too I wonder at
Taking so many strangers as he does,
He uses them with that respect and coolness,
Not making prize, but only borrowing
What may supply his want: nor that for nothing;
But renders back what they may stand in need of,
And then parts lovingly: Where, if he take
His Countreyman, that should be nearest to him,
And stand most free from danger, he sure pays for't:
He drowns or hangs the men, ransacks the Bark,
Then gives her up a Bonfire to his fortune.

Boats. The wrongs he has receiv'd from that dull Countrey
That's all I know has purchas'd all his cruelty.
We fare the better; cheerly, cheerly boys,
The ship runs merrily, my Captain's melancholly,
And nothing cures that in him but a Sea-fight:
I hope to meet a sail boy, and a right one.

Gun. That's my hope too; I am ready for the pastime.

Boats. I' th' mean time let's bestow a Song upon him,
To shake him from his dumps, and bid good day to him.
Ho, in the hold.

Enter a Boy.

Boy. Here, here.

Boats. To th' Main top, Boy.
And thou kenst a ship that dares defie us,
Here's Gold.

Boy. I am gone. [Exit Boy.

Boats. Come sirs, a quaint Levet. [Trump. a Levet.
To waken our brave General. Then to our labor.

Enter Duke of Sesse above, and his daughter Martia like an Amazon.

Ses. I thank you loving mates; I thank you all,
There's to prolong your mirth, and good morrow to you.

Daugh. Take this from me, you're honest, valiant friends;
And such we must make much of. Not a sail stirring?

Gun. Not any within ken yet.

Boats. Without doubt Lady
The wind standing so fair and full upon us,
We shall have sport anon. But noble General,
Why are you still so sad? you take our edge off;
You make us dull, and spiritless.

Ses. I'll tell ye,
Because I will provoke you to be fortunate;
For when you know my cause, 'twill double arm you.
This woman never knew it yet; my daughter,
Some discontents she has.

Daugh. Pray sir go forward.

Ses. These fourteen years, I have stored it here at Sea,
Where the most curious thought could never find it.

Boats. Call up the Master, and all the Mates.

Enter below the Master and Sailers.

Ses. Good morrow.

Mast. Good morrow to our General, a good one,
And to that Noble Lady all good wishes.

Daugh. I thank you Master.

Ses. Mark me, thus it is then;
Which I did never think to have discovered,
Till full revenge had wooed me; but to satisfie
My faithful friends, thus I cast off my burden.
In that short time I was a Courtier,
And followed that most hated of all Princes,
Ferrant, the full example of all mischiefs,
Compell'd to follow to my soul a stranger,
It was my chance one day to play at Chesse
For some few Crowns, with a mynion of this Kings,
A mean poor man, that only serv'd his pleasures;
Removing of a Rook, we grew to words;
From this to hotter anger: to be short,
I got a blow.

Daugh. How, how my Noble Father:

Ses. A blow my girl, which I had soon repaid,
And sunk the slave for ever, had not odds
Thrust in betwixt us. I went away disgrac'd—

Daugh. For honors sake not so Sir.

Ses. For that time, wench;
But call'd upon him, like a Gentleman,
By many private friends; knockt at his valour,
Courted his honor hourly to repair me;
And though he were a thing my thoughts made slight on,
And only worth the fury of my footman,
Still I pursu'd him Nobly.

Daugh. Did he escape you?
My old brave father, could you sit down so coldly?

Ses. Have patience, and know all. Pursu'd him fairly,
Till I was laugh'd at, scorn'd, my wrongs made Maygames.
By him unjustly wrong'd, should be al[l] justice,
The slave protected; yet at length I found him,
Found him, when he suppos'd all had been buried;
And what I had received, durst not be questioned;
And then he fell, under my Sword he fell,
For ever sunk; his poor life, like the air,
Blown in an empty bubble, burst, and left him,
No noble wind of memory to raise him.
But then began my misery, I fled;
The Kings frowns following, and my friends despair;
No hand that durst relieve: my Countrey fearful,
Basely and weakly fearful of a tyrant;
Which made his bad Will worse, stood still and wondred,
Their virtues bedrid in 'em; then my girl,
A little one, I snatch'd thee from thy Nurse,
The modell of thy fathers miseries:
And some small wealth was fit for present carriage,
And got to Sea; where I profest my anger,
And will do, whilst that base ungrateful Countrey,
And that bad King, have blood or means to quench me.
Now ye know all.

Mast. We know all, and admire all;
Go on, and do all still, and still be fortunate.

Daught. Had you done less, or lost this Noble anger,
You had been worthy then mens empty pities,
And not their wonders. Go on, and use your justice.
And use it still with that fell violence,
It first appeared to you; if you go less,
Or take a d[o]ting mercy to protection,
The honor of a Father I disclaim in you,
Call back all duty; and will be prouder of
Th' infamous and base name of a whore,
Than daughter to a great Duke and a coward.

Ses. Mine own sweet Martia, no: thou knowst my nature,
It cannot, must not be.

Daugh. I hope it shall not.
But why Sir do you keep alive still young Ascanio,
Prince of Rossana, King Ferrants most belov'd one,
You took two months agoe?
Why is not he flung overboard, or hang'd?

Ses. I'll tell thee girl:
It were a mercy in my nature now,
So soon to break the bed of his afflictions;
I am not so far reconcil'd yet to him,
To let him die that were a benefit.
Besides, I keep him as a bait and diet,
To draw on more, and nearer to the King,
I look each hour to hear of his Armados,
And a hot welcome they shall have.

Daugh. But hark you!
If you were oversway'd with odds—

Ses. I find you:
I would not yield; no girl, no hope of yielding,
Nor fling my self one hour into their mercies,
And give the tyrant hope to gain his kingdom.
No, I can sink wench, and make shift to die;
A thousand doors are open, I shall hit one.
I am no niggard of my life so it go nobly:
All waies are equal, and all hours; I care not.

Daugh. Now you speak like my father.

Mast. Noble General,
If by our means they inherit ought but bangs,
The mercy of the main yard light upon us.
No, we can sink too, Sir, and sink low enough,
To pose their cruelties, to follow us:
And he that thinks of life, if the world go that way,
A thousand cowards suck his bones.

Gun. Let the worst come,
I can unbreech a Cannon, and without much help
Turn her into the Keel; and when she has split it,
Every man knows his way, his own prayers,
And so good night I think.

Mast. We have liv'd all with you, [Boy a top.
And will die with you General.

Ses. I thank you Gentlemen.

Boy above. A Sail, a Sail.

Mast. A cheerful sound.

Boy. A Sail.

Boats. Of whence? of whence boy?

Boy. A lusty Sail.

Daugh. Look right, and look again.

Boy. She plows the Sea before her,
And fomes i'th' mouth.

Boats. Of whence?

Boy. I ken not yet sir.

Ses. Oh may she prove of Naples.

Mast. Prove the Devil,
We'll spit out fire as thick as she.

Boy. Hoy.

Mast. Brave boy.

Boy. Of Naples, Naples, I think of Naples Master,
Methinks I see the Arms.

Mast. Up, up another,
And give more certain signs. [Exit Sailor.

Ses. All to your business,
And stand but right and true.

Boats. Hang him that halts now.

Boy. Sh'as us in chase.

Mast. We'll spare her our main top-sail,
He shall not look us long, we are no starters.
Down with the foresail too, we'll spoom before her.

Mart. Gunner, good noble Gunner, for my honor
Load me but these two Minions in the chape there;
And load 'em right, that they may bid fair welcome,
And be thine eye, and level as thy heart is.

Gun. Madam, I'll scratch 'em out, I'll piss 'em out else.

Sayl. above. Ho.

Ses. Of whence now?

Sail. Of Naples, Naples, Naples.
I see her top-Flag, how she quarters Naples.
I hear her Trumpets.

Ses. Down, she's welcome to us. [Exit Mast. Boats. Gun. Sail.
Every man to his charge, mann her i'th' bow well.
And place your Rakers right, Daughter be sparing.

Mart. I swear I'll be above Sir, in the thickest,
And where most danger is, I'll seek for honor.
They have begun, hark how their Trumpets call us.
Hark how the wide-mouth'd Cannons sing amongst us.
Hark how they sail; out of our shels for shame Sir.

Ses. Now fortune and my cause.

Mart. Be bold and conquer. [Exit.

[Charge Trumpets and shot within.

Enter Master and Boatswain.

Mast. They'll board us once again, they're tuff and valiant.

Boats. Twice we have blown 'em into th' air like feathers,
And made 'em dance.

Mast. Good boys, fight bravely, manly.
They come on yet, clap in her stern, and yoke 'em.

Enter Gunner.

Gun. You should not need, I have provision for 'em;
Let 'em board once again, the next is ours.
Stand bravely to your Pikes, away, be valiant.
I have a second course of service for 'em,
Shall make the bowels of their Bark ake, boy,
The Duke fights like a Dragon. Who dares be idle? [Exit.

[Charge Trumpets, Pieces go off.

Enter Master, Boatswain following.

Mast. Down with 'em, stow 'em in.

Boats. Cut their throats, 'tis brotherhood to fling 'em into the Sea.
The Duke is hurt, so is his lovely Daughter Martia.
We have the day yet.

Enter Gunner.

Gun. Pox fire 'em, they have smoak'd us, never such plums yet flew.

Boats. They have rent the ship, and bor'd a hundred holes
She swims still lustily.

Mast. She made a brave fight, and she shall be cur'd
And make a braver yet.

Gun. Bring us some Canns up, I am as hot as fire.

Enter boy with three Canns.

Boat. I am sure I am none o'th' coolest.

Gun. My Cannons rung like Bels. Here's to my Mistriss.
The dainty sweet brass Minion: split their Fore-Mast,
She never fail'd.

Mast. Ye did all well, and truly, like faithful honest men.

Boats. But is she rich Master? [Trumpets flourish.

Enter Sesse, Martia, Virolet, Sailors.

Mast. Rich for my Captains purpose howsoever,
And we are his. How bravely now he shows,
Heated in blood and anger! how do you Sir?
Not wounded mortally I hope?

Sess. No Master, but only wear the livery of fury.
I am hurt, and deep.

Mast. My Mistriss too?

Mart. A scratch man,
My needle would ha done as much good Sir,
Be provident and careful.

Sess. Prethee peace girl,
This wound is not the first blood I have blusht in,
Ye fought all like tall men, my thanks among ye,
That speaks not what my purse means, but my tongue, soldiers.
Now Sir, to you that sought me out, that found me,
That found me what I am, the Tyrant's Tyrant;
You that were imp'd, the weak arm to his folly,
You are welcome to your death.

Vir. I do expect it,
And therefore need no compliment, but wait it.

Ses. Thou bor'st the face once of a Noble Gentleman,
Rankt in the first file of the virtuous,
By every hopeful spirit, shewed and pointed,
Thy Countries love; one that advanc'd her honor,
Not tainted with the base and servile uses
The Tyrant ties mens souls to. Tell me Virolet,
If shame have not forsook thee, with thy credit?

Vir. No more of these Racks; what I am, I am.
I hope not to go free with poor confessions;
Nor if I shew ill, will I seem a monster,
By making my mind prisoner; do your worst.
When I came out to deal with you, I cast it,
Only those base inflictions fit for slaves,
Because I am a Gentleman.—

Sess. Thou art none.
Thou wast while thou stoodst good, th' art now a villain.
And agent for the devil.

Vir. That tongue lies.
Give me my sword again, and stand all arm'd;
I'll prove it on ye all, I am a Gentleman,
A man as fair in honor, rate your prisoners,
How poor and like a Pedagogue it shews!
How far from Nobleness! 'tis fair, you may kill's;
But to defame your victory with foul language.

Ses. Go fling him over-board; I'll teach you sirrah.

Vir. You cannot teach me to die. I could kill you now
With patience, in despising all your cruelties.
And make you choke with anger.

Ses. Away I say.

Mar. Stay Sir, h'as given you such bold language,
I am not reconcil'd to him yet, and therefore
He shall not have his wish observ'd so nearly,
To die when he please; I beseech you stay Sir.

Ses. Do with him what thou wilt.

Mar. Carry him to th' Bilboes,
And clap him fast there, with the Prince.

Vir. Do Lady,
For any death you give, I am bound to bless you.

[Exit Virolet; and Sailers.

Mar. Now to your Cabin, Sir; pray lean upon me,
And take your rest, the Surgeons wait all for you.

Ses. Thou mak'st me blush to see thee bear thy fortunes;
Why, sure I have no hurt, I have not fought sure?

Mast. You bleed apace, Sir.

Mart. Ye grow cold too.

Ses. I must be rul'd, no leaning,
My deepest wounds scorn Crutches.

All. A brave General. [Flour. Trumpets, Cornets.

[Exeunt omnes.

Enter two Sailors.

1 Sail. Will they not moore her?

2 Sail. Not till we come to the Fort,
This is too weak a place for our defences,
The Carpenters are hard at work; she swims well,
And may hold out another fight. The ship we took
Burns there to give us light.

1 Sayl. She made a brave fight.

2 Sayl. She put us all in fear.

1 Sail. Beshrew my heart did she.
Her men are gone to Candia, they are pepper'd,
All but this prisoner.

2 Sayl. Sure he's a brave fellow.

1 Sayl. A stubborn knave, but we have pul'd his bravery.
[He discovers Virolet and Ascanio in the Bilboes.
Look how he looks now: come let's go serve his dyet,
Which is but bread and water.

2 Sayl. He'll grow fat on't. [Exeunt Sailors.

Asca. I must confess I have endur'd much misery,
Even almost to the ruine of my spirit,
But ten times more grows my affliction,
To find my friend here.

Vir. Had we serv'd our Countrey,
Or honesties, as we have serv'd our follies,
We had not been here now?

Asca. 'Tis too true Virolet.

Vir. And yet my end in vent'ring for your safety,
Pointed at more than Ferrant's Will, a base one;
Some service for mine own, some for my Nation,
Some for my friend; but I am rightly paid,
That durst adventure such a noble office,
From the most treacherous command of mischief;
You know him now?

Asca. And when I nearer knew him,
Then when I waited, Heaven be witness with me,
(And if I lie my miseries still load me)
With what tears I have wooed him, with what prayers.
What weight of reasons I have laid, what dangers;
Then, when the peoples curses flew like storms;
And every tongue was whetted to defame him,
To leave his doubts, his tyrannies, his slaughters,
His fell oppressions: I know I was hated too.

Vir. And all mankind that knew him: these confessions
Do no good to the world, to heaven they may.
Let's study to die well, we have liv'd like coxcombs.

Asca. That my misfortune, should lose you too.

Vir. Yes;
And not only me, but many more, and better:
For my life, 'tis not this; or might I save yours,
And some brave friends I have engag'd, let me go;
It were the meritorious death I wish for,
But we must hang or drown like whelps.

Asca. No remedy.

Vir. On my part I expect none. I know the man,
And know he has been netled to the quick too,
I know his nature.

Asca. A most cruel nature.

Vir. His wrongs have bred him up. I cannot blame him.

Asca. He has a daughter too, the greatest scorner,
And most insulter upon misery.

Vir. For those, they are toys to laugh at, not to lead men:
A womans mirth or anger, like a meteor
Glides and is gone, and leaves no crack behind it;
Our miseries would seem like masters to us,
And shake our manly spirits into feavers,
If we respected those; the more they glory.
And raise insulting Trophies on our ruines;
The more our virtues shine in patience.
Sweet Prince, the name of death was never terrible
To him that knew to live; nor the loud torrent
Of all afflictions, singing as they swim,
A gall of heart, but to a guilty conscience:
Whilst we stand fair, though by a two-edg'd storm,
We find untimely falls, like early Roses;
Bent to the earth, we bear our native sweetness.

Asca. Good Sir go on.

Vir. When we are little children,
And cry and fret for every toy comes cross us;
How sweetly do we shew, when sleep steals on us!
When we grow great, but our affections greater,
And struggle with this stubborn twin, born with us;
And tug and pull, yet still we find a Giant:
Had we not then the priviledge to sleep,
Our everlasting sleep? he would make us idiots;
The memory and monuments of good men
Are more than lives, and though their tombs want tongues,
Yet have they eies that daily sweat their losses;
And such a tear from stone, no time can value.
To die both young and good, are natures curses
As the world saies; ask truth, they are bounteous blessings:
For then we reach at Heaven, in our full virtues,
And fix our selves new Stars, crown'd with our goodness.

Asc. You have double arm'd me. [Strange Musick within, Hooys.
Hark what noise is this?
What horrid noise is the Sea pleas'd to sing.
A hideous Dirge to our deliverance?

Vir. Stand fast now.

[Within strange cries, horrid noise, Trumpets.

Asc. I am fixt.

Vir. We fear ye not. [Enter Martia.
Let death appear in all shapes, we smile on him.

Asc. The Lady now.

Vir. The face o'th' Mask is alter'd.

Asc. What will she do?

Vir. Do what she can, I care not.

Asc. She looks on you Sir.

Vir. Rather she looks through me,
But yet she stirs me not.

Mart. Poor wretched slaves,
Why do you live? or if ye hope for mercy,
Why do not you houl out, and fill the hold
With lamentations, cries, and base submissions,
Worthy our scorn?

Vir. Madam, you are mistaken;
We are no slaves to you, but to blind fortune;
And if she had her eyes, and durst be certain,
Certain our friend, I would not bow unto her;
I would not cry, nor ask so base a mercy:
If you see any thing in our appearance,
Worthy your sexes softness and your own glory:
Do it for that, and let that good reward it:
We cannot beg.

Mart. I'll make you beg, and bow too.

Vir. Madam for what?

Mart. For life; and when you hope it,
Then will I laugh and triumph on your baseness.

Asc. Madam, 'tis true, there may be such a favour
And we may ask it too; ask it with honor;
And thank you for that favour, nobly thank you,
Though it be death; but when we beg a base life,
And beg it of your scorn—

Vir. Y'are couzen'd woman,
Your handsomness may do much, but not this way;
But for your glorious hate—

Mart. Are ye so stubborn?
'Death, I will make you bow.

Vir. It must be in your bed then;
There you may work me to humility.

Mart. Why, I can kill thee.

Vir. If you do it handsomely;
It may be I can thank you, else—

Mart. So glorious?

A[sc]. Her cruelty now works.

Mart. Yet woot thou?

Vir. No.

Mart. Wilt thou for life sake?

Vir. No, I know your subtilty.

Mart. For honor sake?

Vir. I will not be a Pageant,
My mind was ever firm, and so I'll lose it.

Mart. I'll starve thee to it.

Vir. I'll starve my self, and cross it.

Mart. I'll lay thee on such miseries—

Vir. I'll wear 'em,
And with that wantonness, you do your Bracelets.

Mart. I'll be a month a killing thee.

Vir. Poor Lady,
I'll be a month a dying then: what's that?
There's many a Calenture out-does your cruelty.

Mart. How might I do in killing of his body,
To save his Noble mind? Who waits there?

Enter a Sailor, with a rich Cap and Mantle.

Sayl. Madam.

Mart. Unbolt this man, and leave those things behind you:
And so away, now put 'em on. [Exit Sailer.

Vir. To what end?

Mart. To my End, to my Will.

Vir. I will.

Mart. I thank you.

Vir. Nay, now you thank me, I'll do more, I'll tell ye,
I am a servant to your courtesie.
And so far will be woo'd: but if this triumph
Be only aim'd to make your mischief glorious;
Lady, y'ave put a richer shroud upon me,
Which my strong mind shall suffer in.

Mart. Come hither,
And all thy bravery put into thy carriage,
For I will admire thee.

Vir. Whither will this woman?

Asc. Take heed my friend.

Mart. Look as thou scorn'dst my cruelty:
I know thou dost.

Vir. I never fear'd nor flatter'd.

Mart. No if thou hadst, thou hadst died, and I had gloried.
I suffer now, and thou which art my prisoner,
Hast nobly won the free power to despise me.
I love thee, and admire thee for thy Nobleness;
And, for thy manly sufferance, am thy servant.

Vir. Good Lady, mock me not.

Mart. By heaven I love thee;
And by the soul of love, am one piece with thee.
Thy mind, thy mind; thy brave, thy manly mind:
That like a Rock, stands all the storms of fortune,
And beats 'em roaring back they cannot reach thee:
That lovely mind I dote on, not the body;
That mind has rob'd me of my liberty:
That mind has darken'd all my bravery,
And into poor despis'd things, turn'd my angers.
Receive me to your love Sir, and instruct me;
Receive me to your bed, and marry me;
I'll wait upon you, bless the hour I knew you.

Vir. Is this a new way?

Mart. If you doubt my faith.
First take your liberty; I'll make it perfect,
Or any thing within my power.

Vir. I love you;
But how to recompence your love with marriage?
Alas, I have a wife.

Mart. Dearer tha[n] I am?
That will adventure so much for your safety?
Forget her father's wrongs, quit her own honor,
Pull on her, for a strangers sake, all curses?

Vir. Shall this Prince have his freedom too?
Else all I love is gone, all my friends perish.

Mart. He shall.

Vir. What shall I do?

Mart. If thou despise my courtesie,
When I am dead, for grief I am forsaken,
And no soft hand left to asswage your sorrows;
Too late, but too true, curse your own cruelties.

Asca. Be wise; if she be true, no thred is left else,
To guide us from this labyrinth of mischief;
Nor no way for our friends.

Vir. Thus then I take you:
I bind ye to my life, my love.

Mart. I take you,
And with the like bond tye my heart your servant;
W' are now almost at Harbor, within this hour,
In the dead watch, I'll have the Long-boat ready;
And when I give the word, be sure you enter,
I'll see ye furnisht both immediately,
And like your self; some trusty man shall wait you,
The watch I'll make mine own; only my love
Requires a stronger vow, which I'll administer
Before we go.

Vir. I'll take it to confirm you.

Mart. Goe, in there are the keys, unlock his fetters,
And arm ye Nobly both; I'll be with you presently;
And so this loving kiss.

Ascan. Be constant Lady. [Exeunt omnes.

Enter the Duke of Sesse by Torch-light, Master and Surgeon with him.

Surg. You grow so angry Sir, your wound goes backward.

Ses. I am angry at the time, at none of you,
That sends but one poor subject for revenge;
I would have all the Court, and all the villanie,
Was ever practis'd under that foul Ferrant
Tyrant, and all to quench my wrath.

Mast. Be patient,
Your grace may find occasion every hour,
For certain they will seek you to satisfie,
And to the full, your anger.

Ses. 'Death, they dare not:
They know that I command death, feed his hunger,
And when I let him loose——

Surg. You'll never heal Sir,
If these extreams dwell in you, you are old,
And burn your spirits out with this wild anger.

Ses. Thou liest, I am not old, I am as lusty
And full of manly heat as them, or thou art.

Mast. No more of that.

Ses. And dare seek out a danger;
And hold him at the swords point, when thou tremblest
And creepest into thy box of salves to save thee.
Oh Master, I have had a dreadful dream to night!
Me-thought the ship was all on fire, and my lov'd Daughter
To save her life, leapt into the Sea; where suddainly
A stranger snatcht her up, and swam away with her.

Mast. 'Twas but the heat o'th' fight Sir.

[Boatswain within, and Sailor.

Boats. Look out, what's that?

Sail. The Long-boat as I live.

Boats. Ho, there i'th' Long-Boat.

Ses. What noise is that? [Hoy.

[Mast.] I hear Sir, —— [Exit Master.

Boats. The devil or his dam; hail her agen boys.

Sail. The Long-boat, ho, the Long-boat.

Ses. Why, the Long-boat.
Where is the Long-boat?

Boats. She is stolen off.

Enter Master.

Ses. Who stole her?
Oh my prophetique soul!

Mast. Your Daughters gone Sir?
The prisoners and six Sailors, Rogues.

Ses. Mischief, six thousand plagues sail with 'em;
They'r in her yet, make out.

Mast. We have ne'r a Boat.

Enter Gunner.

Gun. Who knew of this trick?

Ses. Weigh Anchors and away.

Boats. We ha no wind Sir,
They'll beat us with their Oars.

Ses. Then sink 'em Gunner,
Oh sink 'em, sink 'em, sink 'em, claw 'em Gunner;
As ever thou hast lov'd me.

Gun. I'll do reason,
But I'll be hang'd before I'll hurt the Lady. [Exit Gun.

Ses. Who knew of this? [Trump. a piece or two go off.

Mast. We stand all clear.

Ses. What Devil
Put this base trick into her tail? my Daughter,
And run away with rogues! I hope she's sunk, [A piece or two.
Or torn to pieces with the shot, rots find her,
The leprosie of whore stick ever to her,
Oh she has ruin'd my revenge.

Enter Gunner.

Gun. She is gone, Sir.
I cannot reach her with my shot.

Ses. Rise winds, [blow till you burst the aire,]
Blow till ye burst the Air, and swell the Seas,
That they may sink the Stars, Oh dance her, dance her;
Shee's impudently wanton, dance her, dance her,
Mount her upon your surges, cool her, cool her;
She runs hot like a whore, cool her, cool her,
Oh now a shot to sink her, cut Cables,
I will away, and where she sets her foot
Although it be in Ferrants Court, I'll follow her,
And such a Fathers vengeance shall she suffer——
Dare any man stand by me?

Mast. All, all.

Boats. All Sir.

Gun. And the same cup you taste.

Ses. Cut Cables then;
For I shall never sleep nor know what peace is,
Till I have pluckt her heart out;

All within. Oh main there. [Exeunt.

Actus Tertius. Scæna Prima.

Enter Ferrant, Ronvere, Castruccio, Villio, and Guard.

Ron. You are too gentle, Sir. [Flourish Cornets.

Fer. You are too careless:
The creatures I have made, no way regard me:
Why should I give you names, titles of honor,
Rob families to fill your private houses.
For your advancement, draw all curses on me,
Wake tedious winter nights, to make them happy
That for me break no slumber?

Ron. What we can,
We dare do.

Fer. Why is your Soverigns life then
(In which you live, and in whose fall your honors,
Your wealth, your pomp, your pride, and all must suffer)
No better guarded? Oh my cruel Stars,
That mark me out a King, raising me on
This pinnacle of greatness, only to be
The nearer blasting!

Vil. What think you now Castruccio?
Is not this a merry life?

Cast. Still thou art couzen'd;
It is a glorious royal discontentment;
How bravely it becomes him!

Fer. To be made
The common Butt, for every slave to shoot at;
No peace, no rest I take, but their alarms
Beat at my heart: why do I live, or seek then,
To add a day more to these glorious troubles?
Or to what end when all I can arrive at,
Is but the summing up of fears and sorrows?
What power has my command, when from my bosom
Ascanio, my most dear, and lov'd Ascanio,
Was snatch'd, spite of my Will, spite of my Succor,
And by mine own proud slave, retein'd most miserable?
And still that villain lives to nip my pleasures,
It being not within my power to reach him.

Ro[n]. Time may restore all this; and would you hear
Whose counsel never fail'd you.

Fer. Tell me no more,
I faint beneath the burthen of my cares;
And yield my self most wretched.

Ron. On my knees
I beg it, mighty Sir, vouchsafe me hearing.

Fer. Speak, speak, and I thus low, such is my fortune,
Will hear what thou canst say.

Vil. Look but on this,
Has not a man that has but means to keep
A Hawk, a Greyhound, and a Hunting Nag,
More pleasure than this King?

Cast. A dull fool still,
Make me a King, and let me scratch with care,
And see who'll have the better; give me rule
Command, obedience, pleasure of a King,
And let the Devil roar; The greatest corrosive
A King can have, is of more precious tickling,
And handled to the height, more dear delight,
Than other mens whole lives, let 'em be safe too.

Vil. Think of the mutinous people.

Cast. Hang the people,
Give me the pleasure, let me do all, awe all,
Enjoy their Wives and States at my discretion,
And peg 'em when I please, let the slaves mumble.

Vil. But say they should be vex'd, and rise against thee?

Cast. Let 'em rise, let 'em rise: give me the bridle here,
And see if they can crack my girths: ah Villio,
Under the Sun there's nothing so voluptuous
As riding of this Monster, till he founder.

Fer. Who's that so loud?

Cast. I am dumb: is not this rare?
Kings looks make Pythagoreans; is not this
A happiness Villio?

Vil. Yes, to put to silence
A fawning sycophant.

Fer. Thou speak'st truth in all,
And mercy is a vice, when there needs rigor,
Which I, with all severity, will practice;
And since, as subjects they pay not obedience,
They shall be forc'd as slaves: I will remove
Their means to hurt, and with the means, my fears;
Goe you the fatal executioners
Of my commands, and in our name proclaim,
That from this hour I do forbid all meetings,
All private conferences in the City:
To feast a neighbor shall be death: to talk,
As they meet in the streets, to hold discourse,
By writing, nay by signs; see this perform'd,
And I will call your cruelty, to those
That dare repine at this, to me true service.

1 Gard. This makes for us.

2 Gard. I, now we have employments,
If we grow not rich, 'twere fit we should be beggars.

Fer. Ronvere. [Exit Guard.

Ron. My Lord.

Cast. Thou enemy to Majesty?
What think'st thou of a kingdom?

Vil. As of a man
That hath power to do ill.

Cast. Or a thing rather
That does divide an Empire with the gods;
Observe but with how little breath he shakes
A populous City, which would stand unmov'd
Against a whirlwind.

Vil. Then you make him more
Than him that rules the winds.

Cast. For me I do profess it,
Were I offer'd to be any thing on earth
I would be mighty Ferrant.

Fer. Who names me?
Deliver thy thoughts slave, thy thoughts, and truly
Or be no more.

Cast. They rather will deserve
Your favour than your fury; I admire,
(As who does not, that is a loyal subject?)
Your wisdom, power, your perfect happiness,
The most blest of mankind.

Fer. Didst thou but feel
The weighty sorrows that sit on a Crown,
Though thou shouldst find one in the streets Castruccio.
Thou wouldst not think it worth the taking up;
But since thou art enamour'd of my fortune,
Thou shalt e'r long taste of it.

Cast. But one day,
And then let me expire.

Fer. Goe to my Wardrobe,
And of the richest things I wear, cull out,
What thou thinkst fit: do you attend him sirrah?

Vil. I warrant you I shall be at his elbow,
The fool will never leave him. [Exit Cast., Villio.

Cast. Made for ever. [A shout within.

Fer. What shout is that, draw up our Guards.

Enter Virolet, Ascanio, and a Servant.

Ron. Those rather
Speak joy than danger.
Bring her to my house,
I would not have her seen here.

Fer. My Ascanio!
The most desir'd of all men, let me die
In these embraces; how wert thou redeem'd?

Asc. Sir, this is my preserver.

Fer. At more leisure,
I will enquire the manner, and the means,
I cannot spare so much time now from my
More strickt embraces: Virolet, welcome too,
This service weighs down your intended Treason;
You long have been mine enemy, learn now
To be my friend and loyal, I ask no more,
And live as free as Ferrant; let him have
The forty thousand crowns I gladly promis'd,
For my Ascanio's freedom, and deliver
His Father, and his wife to him in safety,
Something hath passed which I am sorry for,
But 'twill not now be help'd; come my Ascanio,
And reap the harvest of my winter travels. [Flourish Cornets.
My best Ascanio, my lov'd Ascanio.

Vir. My Lord, all former passages forgot, [Exit Fer., Ascanio.
I am become a suitor.

Ron. To me Virolet?

Vir. To you, yet will not beg the courtesie,
But largely pay you for it.

Ron. To the purpose.

Vir. The forty thousand crowns the King hath given me,
I will bestow on you, if by your means
I may have liberty for a divorce
Between me and my wife.

Ron. Your Juliana?
That for you hath indur'd so much, so nobly?

Vir. The more my sorrow; but it must be so.

Ron. I will not hinder it: without a bribe,
For mine own ends, I would have further'd this.
I will use all my power.

Vir. 'Tis all I aske:
Oh my curs'd fate, that ever man should hate
Himself for being belov'd, or be compell'd
To cast away a Jewel, Kings would buy,
Though with the loss of Crown and Monarchy! [Exeunt.

Enter Sesse, Master, Boatswain, Gunner.

Sesse. How do I look?

Mast. You are so strangely alter'd.
We scarce can know you, so young again, and utterly
From that you were, figure, or any favour;
Your friends cannot discern you.

Sesse. I have none,
None but my fair revenge, and let that know me!
You are finely alter'd too.

Boats. To please your humour,
But we may pass without disguise, our living
Was never in their element.

Gun. This Jew sure,
That alter'd you, is a mad knave.

Ses. Oh! a most excellent fellow.

Gun. How he has mew'd your head, has rub'd the snow off,
And run your beard into a peak of twenty.

Boats. Stopt all the crannies in your face.

Mast. Most rarely.

Boats. And now you look as plump, your eies as sparkling,
As if you were to leap into a Ladies saddle.
Has he not set your nose awry?

Ses. The better.

Boats. I think it be the better, but 'tis awry sure;
North and by East, I, there's the point it stands in;
Now halfe a point to the Southward.

Ses. I could laugh,
But that my business requires no mirth now;
Thou art a merry fellow.

Boats. I would the Jew Sir,
Could steer my head right, for I have such a swimming in't,
Ever since I went to Sea first.

Mast. Take Wine and purge it.

Boats. I have had a thousand pils of Sack, a thousand;
A thousand pottle Pills.

Gun. Take more.

Boats. Good Doctor,
Your patient is easily perswaded.

Mast. The next fair open weather
Methinks this Jew
If he were truly known to founder'd Courtiers,
And decay'd Ladies that have lost their fleeces
On every bush, he might pick a pretty living.

Boats. The best of all our gallants, should be glad of him;
For if you mark their marches, they are tender,
Soft, soft, and tender; then but observe their bodies,
And you shall find 'em cemented by a Surgeon,
Or some Physitian for a year or two,
And then to th' tub again, for a new pickle.
This Jew might live a Gentile here.

[Ent. 2 Cittizens at both doors, saluting afar off.

Ses. What are these?
Stand close and mark?

Boats. These are no men, th' are motions.

Ses. What sad and ruthful faces!

Boats. How they duck!
This senceless, silent courtesie methinks,
Shews like two Turks, saluting one another,
Upon two French Porters backs.

Ses. They are my Countrey-men,
And this, some forc'd infliction from the tyrant;
What are you, why is this? why move thus silent
As if you were wandring shadows? why so sad?
Your tongues seal'd up; are ye of several Countries?
You understand not one another?

Gun. That's an Englishman,
He looks as though he had lost his dog.

Ses. Your habits
Shew ye all Neopolitanes; and your faces
Deliver you oppressed things; speak boldly:
Do you groan and labor under this stiff yoak?

Mast. They shake their heads and weep.

Ses. Oh misery!
Give plenteous sorrow, and no tongues to shew 'em!
This is a studied cruelty.

1 Cit. Begone Sir,
It seems you are a stranger, and save your self.

2 Cit. You wonder here at us; as much we wonder
To hear you speak so openly, and boldly,
The Kings command being publisht to the contrary;
'Tis death here, above two, to talk together;
And that must be but common salutation neither,
Short, and so part.

Boats. How should a man buy mustard,
If he be forc'd to stay the making of it?

Within 1. Clear all the streets before the King.

1 Cit. Get off Sir,
And shift as we must do. [Exeunt Citizens.

Ses. I'll see his glory.

Mast. Stand fast now and like men. [Flourish Colours.

Enter Castruccio like the King, in the midst of a Guard. Villio.

Cast. Begin the game, Sir,
And pluck me down the Row
Of houses there.
They hide the view o'th' hill; and sink those Merchants,
Their ships are foul and stink.

Mast. This is a sweet youth.

Cast. All that are taken in assemblies,
Their houses and their wives, their wealths are forfeit,
Their lives at your devotion. Villains, Knaves,
I'll make you bow and shake, I'll make you kneel Rogues.
How brave 'tis to b[e] a King!

Gun. Here's fine tumbling.

Cast. No man shall sit i'th' temple near another.

Boats. Nor lie with his own wife.

Cast. All upon pain
Of present death, forget to write.

Boats. That's excellent,
Carriers and Footposts, will be arrant rebels.

Cast. No character, or stamp, that may deliver
This mans intention, to that man i'th' Countrey.

Gun. Nay, an you cut off, after my hearty commendati[on]s.
Your friend and Oliver. No more.

Cast. No man smile,
And wear face of mirth; that fellows cunning,
And hides a double heart, he's your prize, smoke him.

Enter Virolet, Ronvero, Ascanio, and Martia passing over.

Ses. What base abuse is this? Ha? 'tis her face sure,
My prisoners with her too? by heaven wild whore
Now is my time.

Mast. Do what you will.

Ses. Stay hold yet,
My Countrey shall be serv'd first, let her go,
We'll have an hour for her to make her tremble.
Now shew our selves, and bless you with your valours.

Guard. Here's a whole plump of Rogues. [Virolet and they off again.

Ses. Now for your Countrey.

Cast. Away with 'em and hang 'em; shew no mercy,
I say no mercy.

Ses. Be it so upon 'em.

Guard. Treason, treason, treason.

Boats. Cut the sla[ve]s to giggets.

Gun. Down with the Bul-beefs.

Ses. Hold, hold, I command you,——look here.

Cast. A miserable thing, I am no King Sir.

Ses. Sirrah your fools-face has preserv'd your life.
Wear no more Kings coats, you have scap'd a scouring.

Boats. I'st not the King.

Ses. No, 'tis a prating Rascal,
The puppy makes him mirth.

Cast. Yes Sir I am a puppy.

Boats. I beseech you let me hang him,
I'll do't in my Belt straight.

Cast. As you are honourable,
It is enough you may hang me.

Gun. I'll hang a squib at's tail
That shall blow both his buttocks; like a petard.

Cast. Do any thing.
But do not kill me Gentlemen. [Enter Citizen.

Boates. Let's flea him, and have him flye blown.

Cit. Away, and save your lives.
The King himself is coming on; if you stay,
You are lost for ever; let not so much nobleness
Wilfully perish.

Sess. How near?

2. Cit. He's here behind you. [Ex. Sess. Boatsw. Saylers, Citizens.

Sess. We thank you. Vanish.

Enter Ferand, Ronvere. Florish Cornets.

Fer. Double the Guards and take in men that dare,
These slaves are frighted; where are the proud Rebels?
To what protection fled? what villain leads 'em?
Under our nose distur'd our rest?

Ronver. We shall hear,
For such a search I have sent, to hunt the Traytors.

Fer. Yet better men I say, we stand too open:
How now Castruchio? how do you like our glory?

Cast. I must confess, 'twas somewhat more than my match Sir;
This open glory agrees not with my body,
But if it were i'th' Castle, or some strength,
Where I might have my swinge.

Vil. You have been swing'd brother;
How these delights have tickled you! you itch yet?
Will you walk out again in pomp?

Cast. Good Fool.

Vil. These rogues must be rebuked, they are too sawcy,
These peremptory Knaves. Will you walk out Sir,
And take the remnant of your Coronation?
The people stay to see it.

Fer. Do not vex him,
H'as grief enough in's bones; you shall to the Citadel,
And like my self command, there use your pleasure,
But take heed to your person.

Vil. The more danger,
Still the more honor Brother.

Cast. If I reign not then,
And like a King, and thou shalt know it fool,
And thou shalt feel it fool.

Vil. Fools still are freemen,
I'll sue for a protection, till thy reign's out.

Fer. The people have abus'd the liberty
I late allow'd, I now proclaim it straighter,
No men shall walk together nor salute;
For they that do shall dye.

Ronver. You hit the right Sir;
That liberty cut off, you are free from practise.

Fer. Renew my guards.

Ronver. I shall.

Fer. And keep strict watches;
One hour of joy I ask.

Ron. You shall have many. [Exeunt Flor. Cor.

Pandulfo and Juliana, led by two of the guard, as not yet fully recovered.

1. Guard. You are now at liberty, in your own house Lady,
And here our charge takes end.

Pand. 'Tis now a Custom.
We must even wooe those men deserve worst of us,
And so we thank your labors; there's to drink,
For that, and mischief are your occupations;
And to mean well to no man, your chief'st harvests.

2. Gard. You give liberally; we hope Sir, er't be long,
To be oftner acquainted with your bounty,
And so we leave you.

Pand. Do, for I dote not on ye.

Jul. But where's my Husband? what should I do here?
Or what share have I in this joy, call'd liberty,
Without his company? Why did you flatter me,
And tell me he was return'd, his service honor'd?

1 Gard. He is so, and stands high in the Kings favor,
His friends redeemed, and his own liberty,
From which yours is deriv'd, confirm'd; his service,
To his own wish, rewarded: so fare-well Lady. [Ex. Guard.

Pand. Go persecute the good, and hunt ye hell-hounds,
Ye Leeches of the time, suck till ye burst slaves;
How does my girl?

Jul. Weak yet, but full of comfort.

Pand. Sit down, and take some rest.

Jul. My heart's whole Father;
That joys, and leaps, to hear my Virolet,
My Dear, my life, has conquer'd his afflictions.

Pand. Those rude hands, and that bloody will that did this,
That durst upon thy tender body print
These Characters of cruelty; hear me heaven.

Jul. O Sir be sparing.

Pand. I'll speak it, tho I burst;
And tho the ayr had ears, and serv'd the Tyrant,
Out it should go: O he[a]re me thou great Justice;
The miseries that wait upon their mischiefs,
Let them be numberless, and no eye pitty
Them when their souls are loaden, and in labour,
And wounded through, and through, with guilt and horror;
As mine is now with grief; let men laugh at 'em
Then, when their monstrous sins, like earth-quakes, shake 'em,
And those eyes, that forgot heaven would look upward,
The bloody 'larms, of the conscience beating,
Let mercy flye, and day strook into darkness,
Leave their blind souls, to hunt out their own horrors.

Jul. Enough, enough, we must forget dear Father;
For then we are glorious formes of heaven; and live,
When we can suffer, and as soon forgive.
But where's my Lord? methinks I have seen this house,
And have been in't before.

Pand. Thine own house jewel.

Jul. Mine, without him? or his, without my company?
I think it cannot be; it was not wont Father.

Pand. Some business with the King, (let it be good, heaven)
Reteins him sure. [Enter Boy.

Jul. It must be good and noble,
For all men that he treats with tast of virtue;
His words and actions are his own; and Honour's
Not brought, nor compell'd from him.

Pand. Here's the Boy.
He can confirm us more, how sad the child looks!
Come hither Lucio; how, and where's thy Master?

Jul. Speak gentle Boy.

Pand. Is he return'd in safety?

Jul. If not, and that thou knowst is miserable,
Our hopes and happiness declin'd for ever;
Study a sorrow excellent as thy Master,
Then if thou canst live leave us.

Lucio. Noble Madam,
My Lord is safe return'd, safe to his friends, and fortune,
Safe to his Countrey, entertain'd with honour,
Is here within the house.

Jul. Do not mock me.

Lucio. But such a melancholly hangs on his mind,
And in his eyes inhabit such sad shadowes;
But what the cause is——

Pand. Go tell him we are here Boy,
There must be no cause now.

Jul. Hast thou forgot me?

Lucio. No noblest Lady.

Jul. Tell him I am here,
Tell him his wife is here, sound my name to him,
And thou shalt see him start; speak Juliana,
And like the Sun that labors through a tempest,
How suddainly he will disperse his sadness!

Pand. Go I command thee instantly,
And charge him on his duty.

Jul. On his love Boy:
I would fain go to him.

Pand. Away, away, you are foolish.

Jul. Bear all my service sweet Boy.

Pand. Art thou here still?

Jul. And tell him what thou wilt that shall become thee.

Pand. I'th' house, and know we are here. [Ex. Boy.

Jul. No, no, he did not;
I warrant you he did not: could you think
His love had less than wings, had he but seen me;
His strong affection any thing but fire
Consuming all weak lets and rubs before it,
Till he had met my flame, and made one body?
If ever heavens high blessings met in one man,
And there erected to their holy uses
A sacred mind fit for their services,
Built all of polisht honor, 'twas in this man:
Misdoubt him not.

Pand. I know he's truely noble;
But why this sadness, when the general cause
Requires a Jubile of joy?

Jul. I know not. [Enter Virolet and Boy.

Pand. Pray heaven you find it not.

Jul. I hope I shall not:
O here he comes, and with him all my happiness;
He stays and thinks, we may be too unmannerly;
Pray give him leave. [they stand off.

Pand. I do not like this sadness.

Vir. O hard condition of my misery!
Unheard of plagues! when to behold that woman,
That chast and virtuous woman, that preserv'd me,
That pious wife, wedded to my afflictions,
Must be more terrible than all my dangers.
O fortune, thou hast rob'd me of my making,
The noble building of a man, demolisht,
And flung me headlong, on a sin so base
Man and mankind contemn; even beasts abhor it,
A sin more dull than drink, a shame beyond it;
So foul, and far from faith; I dare not name it,
But it will cry it self out, loud ingratitude.
Your blessing Sir.

Pand. You have it in abundance;
So is our joy, to see you safe.

Vir. My Dear one!

Jul. H'as not forgot me yet: O take me to you Sir.

Vir. Must this be added to increase my misery,
That she must weep for joy, and loose that goodness?
My Juliana, even the best of women,
Of wives the perfectest, let me speak this,
And with a modesty declare thy vertues,
Chaster than Chrystal, on the Scythian Clifts
The more the proud winds Court, the more the purer.
Sweeter in thy obedience than a Sacrifice;
And in thy mind a Saint, that even yet living,
Producest miracles, and women daily,
With crooked and lame souls creep to thy goodness,
Which having toucht at, they become examples.
The fortitude of all their sex, is Fable
Compar'd to thine; and they that fill'd up glory,
And admiration, in the age behind us,
Out of their celebrated urns, are started,
To stare upon the greatness of thy spirit;
Wondring what new Martyr heaven has begot,
To fill the times with truth, and ease their stories:
Being all these, and excellent in beauty,
(For noble things dwell in the noblest buildings)
Thou hast undone thy husband, made him wretched,
A miserable man, my Juliana,
Thou hast made thy Virolet.

Jul. Now goodness keep me;
Oh! my dear Lord.

Pand. She wrong you? what's the meaning?
Weep not, but speak, I charge you on obedience;
Your Father charges you, she make you miserable?
That you your self confess.

Vir. I do, that kils me;
And far less I have spoke her than her merit.

Jul. It is some sin of weakness, or of Ignorance?
For sure my Will——

Vir. No, 'tis a sin of excellence:
Forgive me heaven, that I prophane thy blessings:
Sit still; I'll shew you all. [Exit Virolet.

Pand. What means this madness?
For sure there is no tast of right man in it;
Grieves he our liberty, our preservation?
Or has the greatness of the deed he has done,
Made him forget, for whom, and how he did it,
And looking down upon us, scorn the benefit?
Well Virolet, if thou beest proud, or treacherous.

Jul. He cannot Sir, he cannot; he will shew us,
And with that reason ground his words.

Enter Virolet, Martia, Ronvere.

Pand. He comes.
What Masque is this? what admirable beauty?
Pray heaven his heart be true.

Jul. A goodly woman.

Vir. Tell me my dear; and tell me without flattery,
As you are nobly honest, speak the truth;
What think you of this Lady?

Jul. She is most excellent.

Vir. Might not this beauty tell me it's a sweet one,
Without more setting off, as now it is,
Thanking no greater Mistress than meer nature,
Stagger a constant heart?

Pand. She is full of wonder;
But yet; yet Virolet.

Vir. Pray by your leave Sir!

Jul. She would amaze.

Vir. O! would she so? I thank you;
Say to this beauty, she have all additions,
Wealth, noble birth.

Pand. O hold there.

Vir. All virtues,
A mind as full of candor as the truth is,
I, and a loving Lady.

Jul. She must needs
(I am bound in conscience to confess) deserve much.

Vir. Nay, say beyond all these, she be so pious,
That even on slaves condemn'd she showre her benefits,
And melt their stubborn Bolts with her soft pitty,
What think you then?

Pand. For such a noble office,
At these years, I should dote my self; take heed boy.

Jul. If you be he, that have receiv'd these blessings,
And this the Lady: love her, honor her;
You cannot do too much, to shew your gratitude,
Your greatest service will shew off too slender.

Vir. This is the Lady; Lady of that bounty,
That wealth, that noble name, that all I spoke of:
The Prince Ascanio and my self, the slaves
Redeem'd, brought home, still guarded by her goodness,
And of our liberties you tast the sweetness;
Even you she has preserv'd too, lengthen'd your lives.

Jul. And what reward do you purpose? it must be a main one
If love will do it we'll all, so love her, serve her.

Vir. It must be my love.

Jul. Ha!

Vir. Mine, my only love,
My everlasting love!

Pand. How?

Vir. Pray have patience.
The recompence she ask'd, and I have render'd,
Was to become her husband: then I vowed it,
And since I have made it good.

Pand. Thou durst not.

Vir. Done Sir.

Jul. Be what you please, his happiness yet stays with me,
You have been mine; oh my unhappy fortune.

Pand. Nay, break and dye.

Jul. It cannot yet: I must live,
Till I see this man, blest in his new love,
And then——

Pand. What hast thou done? thou base one tell me,
Thou barren thing of honesty, and honor;
What hast thou wrought? Is not this she, look on her,
Look on her, with the eyes of gratitude,
And wipe thy false tears off; Is not this she,
That three times on the Rack, to guard thy safety,
When thou stood'st lost, and naked to the Tyrant;
Thy aged Father here, that shames to know thee,
Ingag'd i'th' jaws of danger; was not this she,
That then gave up her body to the torture?
That tender body, that the wind sings through;
And three times, when her sinews, crack'd and tortur'd,
The beauties of her body turn'd to ruines;
Even then, within her patient heart, she lock'd thee;
Then hid thee from the Tyrant, then preserv'd thee,
And canst thou be that slave?

Martia. This was but duty,
She did it for her Husband, and she ought it;
She has had the pleasure of him, many an hour,
And if one minutes pain cannot be suffer'd;
Mine was above all these, a nobler venter,
I speak it boldly, for I lost a Father.
He has one still, I left my friends, he has many;
Expos'd my life, and honor to a cruelty,
That if it had seiz'd on me, racks and tortures,
Alas, they are Triumphs to it: and had it hit,
For this mans love, it should have shewed a triumph,
Twise lost, I freed him; Rossana lost before him,
His fortunes with him; and his friends behind him:
Twise was I rack'd my self for his deliverance,
In honor first and name, which was a torture
The hang-man never heard of; next at Sea,
In our escape, where the proud waves took pleasure
To toss my little Boat up like a bubble,
Then like a meteor in the ayr he hung,
Then catch'd and flung him in the depth of darkness;
The Cannon from my incensed Fathers Ship,
Ringing our Knell, and still as we peep'd upward,
Beating the raging surge, with fire and Bullet,
And I stood fixt for this mans sake, and scorn'd it;
Compare but this.

Vir. 'Tis too true; O my fortune!
That I must equally be bound to either.

Jul. You have the better and the nobler Lady,
And now I am forc'd, a lover of her goodness.
And so far have you wrought for his deliverance,
That is my Lord, so lovingly and nobly,
That now methinks I stagger in my Title.
But how with honesty? for I am a poor Lady,
In all my dutious service but your shadow,
Yet would be just; how with fair fame and credit,
I may go off; I would not be a strumpet:
O my dear Sir, you know:

Vir. O truth, thou knowest too.

Jul. Nor have the world suspect, I fell to mischief.

Law. Take you no care for that, here's that has done it,
A fair divorce, 'tis honest too.

Pand. The devil,
Honest? to put her off?

Law. Most honest Sir,
And in this point most strong.

Pand. The cause, the cause Sir?

Law. A just cause too.

Pand. As any is in hell, Lawyer.

Law. For barrenness, she never brought him children.

Pand. Why art thou not divorc'd? thou canst not get 'em,
Thy neighbors, thy rank neighbors: O base jugling,
Is she not young?

Jul. Women at more years Sir,
Have met that blessing; 'tis in heavens high power.

Law. You never can have any.

Pand. Why quick Lawyer?
My Philosophical Lawyer.

Law. The Rack has spoil'd her
The distentions of those parts, hath stopt all fruitfulness.

Pand. O I could curse.

Jul. And am I grown so miserable,
That mine own pitty must make me wretched?
No cause against me, but my love and duty?
Farewell Sir, like obedience, thus I leave you,
My long farewell: I do not grudge, I grive Sir,
And if that be offensive, I can dye,
And then you are fairly free: good Lady love him;
You have a noble, and an honest Gentleman,
I ever found him so, the world has spoke him,
And let it be your part still to deserve him:
Love him no less than I have done, and serve him,
And heaven shall bless you; you shall bless my ashes;
I give you up the house, the name of wife,
Honor, and all respect I borrowed from him,
And to my grave I turn: one farewell more,
Nothing divide your Loves, not want of Children,
Which I shall pray against, and make you fruitful;
Grow like two equal flames, rise high and glorious,
And in your honor'd age burn out together:
To all I know, farewell.

Ronver. Be not so griev'd Lady,
A nobler fortune.

Jul. Away thou parasite.
Disturb not my sad thoughts, I hate thy greatness.

Ron. I hate not you, I am glad she's off these hinges,
Come, let's pursue. [Ex. Ronvere and Law.

Pand. If I had breath to curse thee,
Or could my great heart utter, farewell villain,
Thy house, nor face agen. [Exit Pand.

Mar. Let 'em all go.
And now let us rejoyce, now freely take me,
And now embrace me Virolet, give the rites
Of a brave Husband to his love.

Vir. I'll take my leave too.

Mar. How take your leave too?

Vir. The house is furnish'd for you,
You are Mistress, may command.

Mar. Will you to bed Sir?

Vir. As soon to hell, to any thing I hate most;
You must excuse me, I have kept my word.
You are my Wife, you now enjoy my fortune.
Which I have done to recompence your bounty:
But to yield up those chast delights and pleasures,
Which are not mine, but my first vowes.

Mar. You jeast.

Vir. You will not find it so, to give you those
I have divorc'd, and lost with Juliana,
And all fires of that nature—

Mar. Are you a Husband?

Vir. To question hers, and satisfie your flames,
That held an equal beauty, equal bounty—
Good heaven forgive; no, no, the strict forbearance,
Of all those joys, like a full sacrifice,
I offer to the sufferings of my first love,
Honor, and wealth, attendance, state, all duty,
Shall wait upon your will, to make you happy,
But my afflicted mind, you must give leave Lady,
My weary Trunk must wander.

Mart. Not enjoy me?
Go from me too?

Vir. For ever thus I leave you;
And how so e're I fare, live you still happy. [Exit Virol.

Mar. Since I am scorn'd, I'll hate thee, scorn thy gifts too,
Thou miserable fool, thou fool to pitty,
And such a rude, demolisht thing, I'll leave thee,
In my revenge: for foolish love, farewell now,
And anger, and the spite of woman enter,
That all the world shall say, that read this story,
My hate, and not my love, begot my glory. [Exit Martia.

Actus Quartus. Scæna Prima.

Enter Sess. Boatswaine, Master, Gunner.

Sess. He that fears death, or tortures, let him leave me.
The stops that we have met with, Crown our Conquest.
Common attempts are fit for common men;
The rare, the rarest spirits. Can we be daunted?
We that have smil'd at Sea at certain ruines,
Which men on shore but hazarded would shake at:
We that have liv'd free, in despite of fortune,
Laught at the out-stretch'd Arm of Tyranny,
As still too short to reach us, shall we faint now?
No my brave mates, I know your fiery temper,
And that you can, and dare, as much as men:
Calamity, that severs worldly friendships,
Could ne'r divide us, you are still the same;
The constant followers of my banisht fortunes;
The Instruments of my revenge; the hands
By which I work, and fashion all my projects.

Mast. And such we will be ever.

Gun. 'Slight Sir, Cramme me
Into a Cannons mouth, and shoot me at
Proud Ferrand's head: may only he fall with me,
My life I rate at nothing.

Boatsw. Could I but get,
Within my swords length of him; and if then
He scape me, may th' account of all his sins
Be added unto mine.

Mast. 'Tis not to dye Sir,
But to dye unreveng'd, that staggers me:
For were your ends serv'd, and our Countrey free,
We would fall willing sacrifices.

Sess. To rise up,
Most glorious Martyrs.

Boats. But the reason why
We wear these shapes?

Sess. Only to get access:
Like honest men, we never shall approach him,
Such are his fears, but thus attir'd like Switzers,
And fashioning our language to our habits;
Bold, bloody, desperate, we may be admitted
Among his guard. But if this fail I'll try
A thousand others, out-do Proteus
In various shapes, but I will reach his heart,
And seal my anger on't.

Enter Ronvere and the Guard.

Mast. The Lord Ronvere.

Boats. Shall we begin with him?

Sess. He is not ripe yet,
Nor fit to fall: as you see me begin,
With all care Imitate.

Gun. We are instructed.

Boats. Would we were at it once.

Ron. Keep a strict watch,
And let the guards be doubled, this last night
The King had fearful dreams.

Sess. 'Tis a good Omen
To our attempts.

Ron. What men are these? what seek you?

Sess. Imployment.

Ron. Of what nature?

Sess. We are Soldiers;
We have seen Towns and Churches set on fire;
The Kennels runing blood, Coy virgins ravish'd;
The Altars ransack'd, and the holy reliques,
Yea, and the Saints themselves, made lawful spoyls,
Unto the Conquerors: but these good days are past,
And we made Beggars, by this idle peace,
For want of action. I am Sir no stranger
To the Gover[n]ment of this state, I know the King
Needs men, that only do what he commands,
And search no farther: 'tis the profession
Of all our Nation, to serve faithfully,
Where th' are best payed: and if you entertain us,
I do not know the thing you can command,
Which we'll not put in act.

Ron. A goodly Personage.

Mast. And if you have an Enemy, or so
That you would have dispatch'd.

Gun. They are here, can fit you.

Boats. Or if there be an Itch, though to a man.

Sess. You shall tye
Our consciences in your purse strings.

Ron. Gentlemen,
I like your freedome: I am now in hast,
But wait for my return. I like the Rascals,
They may be useful.

Sess. We'll attend you Sir.

Ron. Do, and be confident of entertainment;
I hope you will deserve it. [Exit Ron. and Guard.

Sess. O, no doubt Sir:
Thus far we are prosperous; we'll be his guard;
Till Tyranny and pride find full reward. [Exeunt.

Enter Pandulfo, and Juliana.

Pand. My blessing? no; a Fathers heavy curse,
Pursue, and overtake him.

Jul. Gentle Sir.

Pand. My name, and Family, end in my self
Rather then live in him.

Jul. Dear Sir forbear,
A fathers curses, hit far off, and kill too,
And like a murthering piece ayms not at one,
But all that stand within the dangerous level.
Some bullet may return upon your self too,
Though against nature, if you still go on
In this unnatural course.

Pand. Thou art not made
Of that same stuff as other women are:
Thy injuries would teach patience to blaspheme,
Yet still thou art a Dove.

Jul. I know not malice, but like an innocent, suffer.

Pand. More miraculous!
I'll have a woman Chronicled, and for goodness,
Which is the greatest wonder. Let me see,
I have no Son to inherit after me;
Him I disclaim.
What then? I'll make thy vertues my sole heir;
Thy story I'll have written, and in Gold too;
In prose and verse, and by the ablest doers:
A word or two of a kind step-father
I'll have put in, good Kings and Queens shall buy it.
And if the actions of ill great women,
And of the modern times too, are remembred,
That have undone their husbands and their families,
What will our story do? It shall be so,
And I will streight about it. [Exit Pand.

Enter Boy.

Jul. Such as love
Goodness for glory, have it for reward;
I love mine for it self: let innocence
Be written on my Tomb, though ne're so humble,
'Tis all I am ambitious of. But I
Forget my vows.

Boy. 'Fore me you are not modest,
Nor is this Courtlike. Would you take it well,
If she should rudely press into your Closet,
When from your several Boxes you choose paint,
To make a this days face with?

Jul. What's the matter?

Boy. Pray know her pleasure first.

Jul. To whom speak you Boy?

Boy. Your Ladiships pardon. That proud Lady thief,
That stole away my Lord from your embraces,
(Wrinckles at two and twenty on her cheeks for't,
Or Mercury unallayed, make blisters on it)
Would force a visit.

Jul. And dare you deny her,
Or any else that I call mine? No more,
Attend her with all reverence and respect;
The want in you of manners, my Lord may
Construe in me for malice. I will teach you
How to esteem and love the beauty he dotes on;
Prepare a Banquet.

Enter Martia and Boy.

Madam, thus my duty
Stoops to the favor you vouchsafe your servant,
In honouring her house.

Mart. Is this in scorn?

Jul. No by the life of Virolet: give me leave
To swear by him, as by a Saint I worship,
But am to know no farther, my heart speaks that
My servants have been rude, and this boy (doting
Upon my sorrows) hath forgot his duty:
In which, that you may think I have no share,
Sirra, upon your knees, desire her pardon.

Boy. I dare not disobey you.

Mart. Prethee rise,
My anger never looks so low: I thank you.
And will deserve it, if we may be private,
I came to see and speak with you.

Jul. Be gone. [Exit Boy.
Good Madam sit.

Mart. I rob you of your place then.

Jul. You have deserv'd a better, in my bed;
Make use of this too: Now your pleasure Lady.
If in your breast there be a worthy pitty,
That brings you for my comfort, you do nobly:
But if you come to triumph in your conquest,
Or tread on my calamities, 'twill wrong
Your other excellencies. Let it suffice,
That you alone enjoy the best of men,
And that I am forsaken.

Mart. He the best?
The scum and shame of mankind.

Jul. Virolet, Lady?

Mart. Blest in him? I would my youth had chosen
Consuming feavers, bed-rid age
For my companions, rather then a thing
To lay whose baseness open, would even poyson
The tongue that speaks it.

Jul. Certainly from you
At no part he deserves this; and I tell you,
Durst I pretend but the least title to him,
I should not hear this.

Mart. He's an impudent villain,
Or a malicious wretch: to you ungrateful;
To me beyond expression barbarous.
I more then hate him; from you he deserves
A death most horrid: from me, to dye for ever,
And know no end of torments. Would you have comfort?
Would you wash off the stain that sticks upon you,
In being refus'd? Would you redeem your fame,
Shipwrack'd in his base wrongs? if you desire this,
It is not to be done with slavish suffering,
But by a Noble anger, making way
To a most brave revenge, we may call justice;
Our injuries are equal; joyn with me then,
And share the honor.

Jul. I scarce understand you,
And know I shall be most unapt to learn
To hate the man I still must love and honor.

Mar. This foolish dotage in soft-hearted women,
Makes proud men insolent: but take your way,
I'll run another course.

Jul. As you are noble,
Deliver his offence.

Mart. He has denied
The rites due to a wife.

Jul. O me most happy,
How largely am I payd for all my sufferings!
Most honest Virolet, thou just performer
Of all thy promises: I call to mind now,
When I was happy in those joys you speak of,
In a chast bed, and warranted by Law too,
He oft would swear, that if he should survive me,
(Which then I knew he wisht not) never woman
Should tast of his embraces; this one act
Makes me again his debtor.

Mart. And was this
The cause my youth and beauty were contemn'd?
If I sit down here! wel——

Jul. I dare thy worst,
Plot what thou canst, my piety shall guard him
Against thy malice. Leave my house and quickly,
Thou wilt infect these innocent walls. By virtue
I will inform him of thy bloody purpose,
And turn it on thine own accursed head;
Believ't I will. [Exit Juliana.

Mart. But 'tis not in thy power
To hinder what I have decreed against him.
I'll set my self to sale, and live a strumpet;
Forget my birth, my father, and his honor,
Rather then want an instrument to help me
In my revenge. The Captain of the guard;
Blest opportunity courts me.

Enter Ronvere.

Ron. Sad and troubled?
How brave her anger shews! how it sets off
Her natural beauty! under what happy star
Was Virolet born, to be belov'd and sought to,
By two incomparable women? noblest Lady,
I have heard your wrongs and pitty them: and if
The service of my life could give me hope
To gain your favor, I should be most proud
To be commanded.

Mart. 'Tis in you, my Lord,
To make me your glad servant.

Ron. Name the means.

Mar. 'Tis not preferment, Jewels, Gold, or Courtship.
He that desires to reap the harvest of
My youth and beauty, must begin in blood,
And right my wrongs.

Ron. I apprehend you Madam,
And rest assured 'tis done; I am provided
Of instruments to fit you: To the King,
I'll instantly present you; if I fail,
He shall make good your ayms: he's less then man,
That to atchieve your favor, would not do
Deeds, fiends would fear to put their agents to. [Exeunt.

Enter Virolet Reading.

Vir. Quod invitus facis, non est scelus. 'Tis an axiome,
Now whether willingly I have departed
With that I lov'd: with that, above her life
Lov'd me again, crownd me a happy husband,
Was full of children: her afflictions,
That I begot, that when our age must perish,
And all our painted frailties turn'd to ashes,
Then shall they stand and prop[a]gate our honors.
Whether this done, and taking to protection
A new strange beauty, it was a useful one:
How to my lust? if it be so, I am sinful;
And guilty of that crime I would fling from me.
Was there not in it this fair course of virtue?
This pious course, to save my friends, my Countrey,
That even then had put on a mourning garment,
And wept the desolation of her children?
Her noblest children? Did not she thrust me on,
And to my duty clapt the spur of honor?
Was there a way, without this woman, left me
To bring 'em off? the marrying of this woman?
If not, why am I stung thus? why tormented?
Or had there been a wild desire joyn'd with it,
How easily, both these, and all their beauties
Might I have made mine own! why am I toucht thus,
Having perform'd the great redemption,
Both of my friends and family? fairly done it?
Without base and lascivious ends; O Heaven,
Why am I still at War thus? why this a mischief,
That honesty and honor had propounded,
I, and absolv'd my tender will, and chid me,
Nay then unwillingly flung me on?

Enter Juliana and the Boy.

Boy. He's here Madam;
This is the melancholly walk he lives in,
And chooses ever to increase his sadness.

Jul. Stand by.

Vir. 'Tis she: how I shake now and tremble!
The virtues of that mind are torments to me.

Jul. Sir, if my hated face shall stir your anger,
Or this forbidden path I tread in vex you;
My love, and fair obedience left behind me,
Your pardon asked, I shall return and bless you.

Vir. Pray stay a little, I delight to see you;
May not we yet, though fortune have divided us,
And set an envious stop between our pleasures,
Look thus one at another? sigh and weep thus?
And read in one anothers eyes, the Legends,
And wonders of our old loves? be not fearful,
Though you be now a Saint, I may adore you:
May I not take this hand, and on it sacrifice
The sorrows of my heart? white seal of virtue.

Jul. My Lord, you wrong your wedlock.

Vir. Were she here,
And with her all severe eyes to behold us,
We might do this; I might name Juliana,
And to the reverence of that name, bow thus:
I might sigh Juliana she was mine once;
But I too weak a guard for that great treasure——
And whilst she has a name, believe me Lady,
This broken heart shall never want a sorrow.

Jul. Forget her sir, your honor now commands you
You are anothers, keep those griefs for her,
She richly can reward 'em. I would have spoken with you.

Vir. What is your will? for nothing you can ask,
So full of goodness are your words and meanings,
Must be denied: speak boldly.

Jul. I thank you sir. I come not
To beg, or flatter, only to be believ'd,
That I desire: for I shall tell a story,
So far from seeming truth, yet a most true one;
So horrible in nature, and so horrid;
So beyond wickedness, that when you hear it,
It must appear the practice of another,
The cast and malice of some one you have wrong'd much,
And me, you may imagine me accuse too,
Unless you call to mind my daily sufferings;
The infinite obedience I have born you,
That hates all name and nature of revenge.
My love, that nothing but my death can sever,
Rather than hers I speak of.

Vir. Juliana,
To make a doubt of what you shall deliver,
After my full experience of your virtues,
Were to distrust a providence; to think you can lie,
Or being wrong'd, seek after foul repairings,
To forge a Creed against my faith.

Jul. I must do so, for it concerns your life Sir;
And if that word may stir you, hear and prosper:
I should be dumb else, were not you at stake here.

Vir. What new friend have I found, that dares deliver
This loaden trunk from his afflictions?
What pittying hand, of all that feels my miseries,
Brings such a benefit?

Jul. Be wise and manly,
And with your honor fall, when Heaven shall call you,
Not by a hellish mischief.

Vir. Speak my blest one,
How weak and poor I am, now she is from me!

Jul. Your wife.

Viro. How's that?

Jul. Your wife.

Vir. Be tender of her, I shall believe else——

Jul. I must be true; your ear, sir;
For 'tis so horrible, if the ayr catch it,
Into a thousand plagues, a thousand monsters,
It will disperse it self, and fright resistance. [Whispers.

Viro. She seek my life with you? make you her agent?
Another love? O speak but truth.

Jul. Be patient,
Dear as I love you, else I leave you wretched.

Vir. Forward, 'tis well, it shall be welcome to me;
I have liv'd too long, numbred too many days,
Yet never found the benefit of living;
Now when I come to reap it with my service,
And hunt for that my youth and honor aims at,
The Sun sets on my fortune red and bloody,
And everlasting night begins to close me,
'Tis time to dye.

Enter Martia and Ronvere.

Jul. She comes her self.

Ron. Believe Lady,
And on this Angel hand, your servant seals it,
You shall be Mistriss of your whole desires,
And what ye shall command.

Mart. Ha mynion,
My precious Dame, are you there? nay go forward,
Make your complaints, and pour out your fain'd pitties,
Slave, like to him you serve: I am the same still,
And what I purpose, let the world take witness,
Shall be so finisht, and to such example,
Spite of your poor preventions, my dear Gentleman,
My honorable man, are you there too?
You and your hot desire? your mercy Sir,
I had forgot your greatness.

Jul. 'Tis not well Lady.

Mart. Lord, how I hate this fellow now; how desperately
My stomach stands against him; this base fellow,
This gelded fool!

Jul. Did you never hear of modesty?

Mart. Yes, when I heard of you and so believ'd it,
Thou bloodless, brainless fool.

Vir. How?

Mart. Thou despised fool,
Thou only sign of man, how I contemn thee!
Thou woven worthy in a piece of Arras,
Fit only to enjoy a wall; thou beast
Beaten to use; Have I preserv'd a beauty,
A youth, a love, to have my wishes blasted?
My dotings, and the joys I came to offer,
Must they be lost, and sleighted by a dormouse?

Jl. Use more respect; and woman, 'twill become you;
At least, less tongue.

Mart. I'll use all violence,
Let him look for't.

Jul. Dare you stain those beauties,
Those heavenly stamps, that raise men up to wonder,
With harsh and crooked motions? are you she
That overdid all ages, with your honor;
And in a little hour dare loose this triumph?
Is not this man your husband?

Mart. He's my halter;
Which (having sued my pardon) I fling off thus,
And with him all I brought him, but my anger;
Which I will nourish to the desolation,
Not only of his folly, but his friends,
And his whole name.

Vir. 'Tis well, I have deserved it.
And if I were a woman, I would rail too.

Mart. Nature nere promised thee a thing so noble.
Take back your love, your vow, I give it freely;
I poorly scorn it; graze now where you please:
That that the dulness of thy soul neglected,
Kings sue for now. And mark me, Virolet,
Thou image of a man, observe my words well.
At such a bloody rate I'll sell this beauty,
This handsomness thou scornst and flingst away,
Thy proud ungrateful life shall shake at: take your house,
The petty things you left me give another;
And last, take home your trinket: fare you well, Sir.

Ron. You have spoke like your self;
Y'are a brave Lady. [Exeunt Ronvere and Martia.

Jul. Why do you smile, Sir?

Vir. O my Juliana,
The happiness this womans scorn has given me,
Makes me a man again; proclaims it self,
In such a general joy, through all my miseries,
That now methinks—

Jul. Look to your self dear Sir,
And trifle not with danger that attends you;
Be joyful when y'are free.

Vir. Did you not hear her?
She gave me back my vow, my love, my freedom;
I am free, free as air; and though to morrow
Her bloody will meet with my life, and sink it,
And in her execution tear me piecemeal:
Yet have I time once more to meet my wishes,
Once more to embrace my best, my noblest, truest;
And time that's warranted.

Jul. Good Sir, forbear it:
Though I confess, equal with your desires
My wishes rise, as covetous of your love,
And to as warm alarums spur my will to:
Yet pardon me, the Seal o'th' Church dividing us,
And hanging like a threatning flame between us,
We must not meet, I dare not.

Vir. That poor disjoynting
That only strong necessity thrust on you,
Not crime, nor studied cause of mine: how sweetly,
And nobly I will bind again and cherish;
How I will recompence one dear imbrace now,
One free affection! how I burn to meet it!
Look now upon me.

Jul. I behold you willingly,
And willingly would yield, but for my credit.
The love you first had was preserv'd with honor,
The last shall not cry whore; you shall not purchase
From me a pleasure, that have equally
Lov'd your fair fame as you, at such a rate:
Your honesty and virtue must be bankrupt,
If I had lov'd your lust, and not your lustre;
The glorious lustre of your matchless goodness,
I would compel you now to be!—forgive me,
Forgive me Sir, how fondly still I love you!
Yet nobly too; make the way straight before me,
And let but holy Hymen once more guide me,
Under the Ax upon the Rack again,
Even in the bed of all afflictions,
Where nothing sings our Nuptials but dire sorrows,
With all my youth and pleasure I'll imbrace you,
Make Tyranny and death stand still affrighted,
And at our meeting souls amaze our mischiefs;
Till when, high heaven defend you, and peace guide you.
Be wise and manly, make your fate your own,
By being master of a providence,
That may controle it.

Vir. Stay a little with me,
My thoughts have chid themselves: may I not kiss you?
Upon my truth I am honest.

Jul. I believe ye;
But yet what that may raise in both our fancies,
What issues such warm parents breed.

Vir. I obey you,
And take my leave as from the Saint that keeps me.
I will be right again, and once more happy
In thy unimitable love.

Jul. I'll pray for ye,
And when you fall I have not long to follow. [Exeunt.

Enter Sesse, Master, Boteswain, and Gunner, at one door, Martia and Ronvere, at another.

Ses. Now we have got free credit with the Captain.

Mast. Soft, soft, he's here again: Is not that Lady—
Or have I lost mine eyes? a salt rhume seizes 'em;
But I should know that face.

Bots. Make him not madder,
Let him forget the woman; steer a lar-board.

Mast. He will not kill her.

Bots. Any thing he meets;
He's like a Hornet now, he hums, and buzzes;
Nothing but blood and horror.

Mast. I would save the Lady,
For such another Lady.

Bots. There's the point;
And you know there want women of her mettle.

Mast. 'Tis true, they bring such children now,
Such demilancies,
Their fathers socks will make them Christning clothes.

Gun. No more, they view us.

Ses. You shall play a while,
And sun your self in this felicity,
You shall you glorious whore, I know you still.
But I shall pick an hour when most securely—
I say no more.

Ron. Do you see those? those are they
Shall act your will; come hither my good fellows:
You are now the Kings. Are they not goodly fellows?

Mart. They have bone enough, if they have stout heart to it.

Mast. Still the old wench.

Sess. Pray Captain, let me ask you
What Noble Lady's that? 'tis a rude question,
But I desire to know.

Ron. She is for the King, Sir;
Let that suffice for answer.

Sess. Is she so Sir?
In good time may she curse it.
Must I breed hackneys for his grace?

Ron. What wouldst thou do
To merit such a Ladies favor?

Sess. Any thing.

Ron. That can supply thy wants, and raise thy fortunes?

Ses. Let her command, and see what I dare execute.
I keep my conscience here; if any man
Oppose her will, and she would have him humbled,
Whole families between her and her wishes—

Mast. We have seen bleeding throats sir, Cities sackt;
And infants stuck upon their pikes.

Botes. Houses a fire, and handsome mothers weeping.

Ses. Which we have heaped upon the pile like sacrifices.
Churches and Altars, Priests and all devotions,
Tumbled together into one rude Chaos.

Gun. We know no fear Sir, but want of imployment.

Sess. Nor other faith but what our purses preach.
To gain our ends we can do any thing,
And turn our souls into a thousand figures;
But when we come to do—

Mart. I like these fellows.

Ron. Be ready and wait here within this hour
I'll shew you to the King, and he shall like ye:
And if you can devise some entertainment
To fill his mirth, such as your Countrey uses,
Present it, and I'll see it grac'd.
After this Comicke Scene we shall imploy you,
For one must dye.

Sess. What is he sir? speak boldly,
For we dare boldly do.

Ron. This Ladies husband;
His name is Virolet.

Sess. We shall dispatch it. [Exit Martia, Ronvere.
O damned, damned thing: a base whore first:
And then a murtherer, I'll look to you.

Bots. Can she be grown so strange?

Ses. She has an itch;
I'll scratch you my dear daughter, I'll so claw you;
I'll curry your hot hide; married and honour'd?
And turn those holy blessings into brothels?
Your beauty into blood? I'll hunt your hotness.
I'll hunt you like a train.

Mast. We did all pitty her.

Ses. Hang her, she is not worth mans memory;
She's false and base, and let her fright all stories.
Well, though thou beest mine enemy, I'll right thee,
And right thee Nobly.

Bots. Faith sir, since she must go,
Let's spare as few as may be.

Ses. We'll take all,
And like a torrent sweep the slaves before us.
You dare endure the worst?

Mast. You know our hearts sir,
And they shall bleed the last, ere we start from ye.

Gun. We can but dye, and ere we come to that,
We shall pick out some few examples for us.

Ses. Then wait the first occasion, and like Curtius,
I'll leap the gulph before you, fearless leap it:
Then follow me like men, and if our virtues
May buoy our Countrey up, and set her shining
In her first state; our fair revenges taken,
We have our noble ends or else our ashes. [Exeunt.

Actus V. Scæna Prima.

Enter Ascanio, and Martia above.

Mart. As you are noble, keep me from discovery,
And let me only run a strangers fortune;
For when the King shall find I am his daughter
He ever holds most ominous, and hates most:
With what eyes can he look, how entertain me,
But with his fears and cruelties?

Asc. I have found you,
Suspect not, I am bound to what you like best,
What you intend, I dare not be so curious
To question now, and what you are, lies hid here.

Enter Ferrand and Ronvere above.

The King comes, make your fortune, I shall joy in't.

Ron. All things are ready sir to make you merry,
And such a King, you shall behold him now.

Fer. I long for't,
For I have need of mirth.

Ron. The Lady sir.

Fer. Now as I am a King, a sprightly beauty,
A goodly sweet aspect! my thanks Ronvere,
My best thanks; on your lips I seal your wishes,
Be what you can; imagine mine, and happy.
And now sit down and smile; come my Ascanio;
And let this Monarch enter.

Enter Sess. and Mr. B[o]tsw. Gunner, and Saylors.

Ronv. These are the Switzers:
I told your grace of.

Fer. Goodly promising fellows,
With faces to keep fools in awe, I like 'em;
Go guard the presence well, and do your duties,
To morrow I shall take a farther view:

Sess. You shall Sir,
Or I shall loose my will; how the whore's mounted!
How she sits thron'd! thou blasing muddy meteor,
That frightest the under world with lustful flashes,
How I shall dash thy flames! away, no word more.

[Ex. Sess. and his company. Florish Cor.

Enter Villio, Castruchio, Doctor, and a Guard.

Fer. Now, here he comes in glory; be merry Masters,
A Banquet too? [meat conveyed away.

Ron. O, he must sit in State Sir!

Asca. How rarely he is usher'd! can he think now
He is a King indeed?

Ron. Mark but his countenance.

Cast. Let me have pleasures infinite, and to the height,
And women in abundance, many women,

Enter Ladies.

I will disport my grace,
Stand there and long for me.
What have ye brought me here? is this a Feast
Fit for a Prince? a mighty Prince? are these things,
These preparations, ha?

Doct. May it please your grace?

Cast. It does not please my grace: where are the Marchpanes,
The Custards double royal, and the subtilties?
Why, what weak things are you to serve a Prince thus?
Where be the delicates oth' earth and ayr?
The hidden secrets of the Sea? am I a plow-man,
You pop me up with porridge? hang the Cooks.

Fer. O most Kingly:
What a Majestick anger!

Cast. Give me some wine.

Asca. He cools agen now.

Cast. Fool where are my Players?
Let me have all in pomp; let 'em play some love matter,
To make the Ladies itch, I'll be with you anon Ladies;
You black eyes, I'll be with you.
Give me some wine I say,
And let me have a Masque of Cuckolds enter:
Of mine own Cuckolds,
And let them come in, peeping and rejoycing
Just as I kiss their wives, and somewhat glorying.
Some wine I say, then for an excellent night-piece,
To shew my glory to my loves, and minions,
I will have some great Castle burnt.

Vil. Hark you brother:
If that be to please these Ladies, ten to one
The fire first takes upon your own, look to that;
Then you may shew a night piece.

Cast. Where's this wine?
Why shall I choak? do ye long all to be tortur'd?

Doct. Here Sir.

Cast. Why, what is this? why Doctor.

Doct. Wine and water Sir.
'Tis Soveraign for your heat, you must endure it.

Vil. Most excellent to cool your night-piece Sir.

Doct. You are of a high and cholerick complexion,
And you must have allayes.

Cast. Shall I have no sheere wine then?

Doct. Not for a world: I tender your dear life Sir;
And he is no faithful subject—

Vil. No, by no means:
Of this you may drink, and never hang, nor quarter,
Nor never whip the fool, this liquors merciful.

Cast. I will sit down and eat then: Kings when th' are hungry,
May eat I hope?

Doct. Yes, but they eat discreetly.

Cast. Come, tast this dish, and cut me liberally;
I like sauce well.

Doct. Fie 'tis too hot Sir:
Too deeply season'd with the spice, away wi'th't,
You must acquaint your stomach with those dyets
Are temperately nourishing.

Cast. But pray stay Doctor,
And let me have my meat again.

Doct. By no means:
I have a charge concerns my life.

Cast. No meat neither;
Do Kings never eat Doctor?

Doct. Very little Sir.
And that too very choice.

Vil. Your King never sleeps Brother,
He must not sleep, his cares still keep him waking.
Now he that eats and drinks much is a dormouse;
The third part of a wafer is a weeks diet.

Cast. Appoint me something then.

Doct. There.

Cast. This I feel good,
But it melts too suddainly; yet, how, that gone too!
Ye are not mad! I charge you. [take away.

Doct. For your health Sir,
A little quickens nature, much depresses.

Cast. Eat nothing for my health? that's a new dyet,
Let me have something, something has some savor.
Why thou uncourteous Doctor, shall I hang thee?

Doct. 'Tis better Sir than I should let you surfeit,
My death were nothing.

Vil. To loose a King, were terrible.

Cast. Nay, then I'll carve my self, I'll stay no ceremonies.
This is a Patridge Pye, I am sure that's nourishing,
Or Galen is an Ass: 'tis rarely season'd:
Ha Doctor have I hit right? a mark a mark there? [take away.

Vil. What ails thy grace?

Cast. Retriv those Patridges.
Or as I am a King—

Doct. Pray Sir be patient,
They are flowen too far.

Vil. These are breath'd pyes an't please you,
And your hawkes are such Buzards.

Cast. A King and have nothing,
Nor can have nothing!

Vil. What think you of pudding?
A pudding Royal?

Cast. To be royally starv'd,
Whip me this fool to death; he is a blockhead.

Vil. Let 'em think they whip me, as we think you a King:
'Twill be enough.

Cast. As for your dainty Doctor, the Table taken away,
All gone, all snatch'd away, and I unsatisfied,
Without my wits being a King and hungry?
Suffer but this thy treason? I tell thee Doctor.
I tell it thee, in earnest, and in anger,
I am damnably hungry, my very grace is hungry.

Vil. A hungry grace is fittest to no meal Sir.

Doct. Some two hours hence, you shall see more: but still Sir
You must retain an excellent and strict dyet.

Vil. It sharpens you, and makes your wit so poynant, Sir
Your very words will kill.

Doct. A bit of Marmalade
No bigger than a Pease.

Vil. And that well butter'd,
The ayr thrice purified, and three times spirited,
Becomes a King: your rare conserve of nothing
Breeds no offence.

Cast. Am I turn'd King Camelion,
And keep my Court i'th' ayr?

Fer. They vex him cruelly.

Asca. In two days more they'll starve him.

Fer. Now the women, there's no food left but they.

Asca. They'll prove small nourishment.
Yet h'as another stomach and a great one,
I see by his eye.

Cast. I'll have mine own power here;
Mine own Authority; I need no tutor.
Doctor this is no dyet.

Doct. It may be Sir.

Vil. Birlady, it may turn to a dry dyet;
And how thy grace, will ward that—

Cast. Stand off Doctor;
And talk to those that want faith.

Fer. Hot and mighty.

Asca. He will cool apace, no doubt.

Cast. Fair, plump, and red,
A forehead high, an eye revives the dead;
A lip like ripest fruit, inviting still.

Vil. But O, the rushy well, below the hill,
Take heed of that, for though it never fail
Take heed I say, for thereby hangs a tail.

Cast. I'll get ye all with Child.

Vil. With one Child Brother,
So many men in a Blew Coat.

Cast. Had I fed well,
And drunk good store of wine, ye had been blest all,
Blest all with double Births; come kiss me greedily,
And think no more upon your foolish Husbands,
They are transitory things: a Kings fame meets you.

Doct. Vanish away. [Ex. Women.

Cast. How, they gone too? my guard there:
Take me this devil Doctor, and that fool there,
And sow 'em in a sack; bring back the women,
The lovely women, drown these rogues or hang 'em.

Asca. He is in earnest Sir.

Enter Sess. Master, Boatsw. Gunner and Saylors.

Fer. In serious earnest,
I must needs take him off.

Sess. Now, now be free.
Now liberty, now Countrey-men shake from ye
The Tyrants yoke.
All liberty, liberty, liberty.

Guard. Treason, treason, treason.

Fer. We are betray'd, fly to the Town, cry treason,
And raise our faithful friends; O my Ascanio.

Asca. Make hast, we have way enough.

Guard. Treason, treason. [Ex. Fer. Asca. and guard.

Sess. Spare none, put all to th' sword: a vengeance shake thee;
Art thou turn'd King again?

Cast. I am a Rascal:
Spare me but this time, if ever I see King more,
Or once believe in King.

Sess. The ports are ours.
The treasure and the port, fight bravely Gentlemen;
Cry to the Town, cry liberty and honor;

[crying liberty and freedom within.

Waken their persecuted souls, cry loudly,
We'll share the wealth among ye.

Cast. Do you hear Captain?
If ever you hear me, name a King.

Sess. You shall not.

Cast. Or though I live under one, obey him.

Gun. This Rogue again.

Sess. Away with him good Gunner.

Cast. Why look ye Sir? I'll put you to no charge;
I'll never eat.

Gun. I'll take a course, you shall not,
Come, no more words.

Enter Boatsw[a]ine.

Cast. Say nothing when you kill me.

Sess. He's taken to the Towers strength;
Now stand sure Gentlemen.
We have him in a pen, he cannot scape us,
The rest oth'Castle's ours; liberty, liberty:
What is this City up?

Boatsw. They are up and glorious,
And rouling like a storm they come; their Tents
Ring nothing but liberty and freedome.
The women are in Arms too.

Sess. Let 'em come all.
Honour and liberty.

All. Honor and liberty. [Exeunt.

Enter Juliana.

Jul. This woman threats, her eyes, even red with fury
Which like prodigious meteors, foretold
Assur'd destruction, are still before me.
Besides I know such natures unacquainted
With any mean, or in their love, or hatred,
And she that dar'd all dangers to possess him,
Will check at nothing, to revenge the loss
Of what she held so dear, I first discover'd
Her bloody purposes, which she made good,
And openly profess'd 'em; that in me
Was but a cold affection; charity
Commands so much to all; for Virolet
Methinks I should forget my Sexes weakness,
Rise up, and dare beyond a womans strength;
Then do, not counsel: he is too secure,
And in my judgment, 'twere a greater service
To free him from a deadly Enemy,
Then to get him a friend. I undertook too,
To cross her plots, oppos'd my piety,
Against her malice; and shall vertue suffer?
No Martia, wer't thou here equally armed,
I have cause, spite of thy masculine breeding,
That would assure the victory: my angel
Direct and help me.

Enter Virolet, like Ronvere.

Vir. The State in Combustion,
Part of the Cittadel forc'd, the treasure seiz'd on;
The guards corrupted, arm themselves against
Their late protected Master; Ferrant fled too,
And with small strength, into the Castle's Tower,
The only Aventine, that now is left him!
And yet the undertakers, nay, performers,
Of such a brave and glorious enterprize,
Are yet unknown: they did proceed like men,
I like a child; and had I never trusted
So deep a practice unto shallow fools,
Besides my souls peace, in my Juliana,
The honor of this action had been mine,
In which, accurs'd, I now can claim no share.

Jul. Ronvere! 'tis he, a thing, next to the devil
I most detest and like him terrible;
Martia's right hand, the instrument I fear too,
That is put to her bloody will, into act.
Have I not will enough, and cause too mighty?
Weak womens fear, fly from me.

Vir. Sure this habit,
This likeness to Ronvere, which I have studied,
Either admits me safe to my design,
Which I too cowardly have halted after,
And suffer'd to be ravisht from my glory;
Or sinks me and my miseries together;
Either concludes me happy.

Jul. He stands musing,
Some mischief is now hatching:
In the full meditation, of his wickedness,
I'll sink his cursed soul: guide my hand heaven,
And to my tender arm give strength, and fortune,
That I may do a pious deed, all ages
Shall bless my name for; all remembrance crown me.

Vir. It shall be so.

Jul. It shall not, take that token,
And bear it to the lustful arms of Martia,
Tell her, for Virolets dear sake, I sent it.

Vir. O I am happy, let me see thee,
That I may bless the hand that gave me liberty,
O courteous hand, nay thou hast done most nobly,
And heaven has guided thee, 'twas their great justice;
O blessed wound that I could come to kiss thee!
How beautiful, and sweet thou shew'st!

Jul. Oh!

Vir. Sigh not,
Nor weep not dear, shed not those sovereign Balsames
Into my blood; which must recover me;
Then I shall live again, to do a mischief,
Against the mightiness of love and virtue,
Some base unhallowed hand shall rob thy right of.
Help me, I faint: so.

Jul. O unhappy wench!
How has my zeal abus'd me; you that guard virtue,
Were ye asleep? or do you laugh at innocence?
You suffer'd this mistake? O my dear Virolet!
An everlasting curse follow that forme
I strook thee in, his name be ever blasted:
For his accursed shadow has betray'd
The sweetness of all youth, the nobleness,
The honour, and the valor; wither'd for ever
The beauty and the bravery of all mankind:
O my dull, devils eyes.

Vir. I do forgive you,
By this, and this I do; I know you were cozen'd;
The shadow of Ronvere, I know you aym'd at,
And not at me; but 'twas most necessary,
I should be struck, some hand above directed you:
For Juliana could not shew her justice
Without depriving high heaven of his glory,
Or any subject fit for her, but Virolet:
Forgive me too, and take my last breath sweet one,
This the new marriage of our souls together;
Think of me Juliana, but not often,
For fear my faults should burthen your affections,
Pray for me, for I faint.

Jul. O stay a little,
A little little Sir. [Offers to kill her self.

Vir. Fye Juliana.

Jul. Shall I outlive the virtue, I have murder'd?

Vir. Hold, or thou hat'st my peace, give me the dagger,
On your obedience, and your love, deliver it.
If you do thus; we shall not meet in heaven sweet;
No guilty blood comes there; kill your intentions,
And then you conquer: there where I am going,
Would you not meet me Dear?

Jul. Yes.

Vir. And still love me?

Jul. And still behold you.

Vir. Live then till heaven calls you.
Then ripe and full of sweetness you rise sainted.
Then I that went before you to prepare,
Shall meet and welcome you, and daily court you
With Hymnes of holy Love—I go out,
Give me your hand, farewell, in peace farewell,
Remember me, farewell. [dyes.

Jul. Sleep you sweet glasses,
An everlasting slumber crown those Chrystals,
All my delight adue, farewell, Dear Virolet,
Dear, Dear, most Dear; O I can weep no more,
My body now is fire, and all consuming,
Here will I sit, forget the world and all things,
And only wait what heaven shall turn me to,
For now methinks I should not live. [She sits down.

Enter Pandulfo.

P[a]nd. O my sweet daughter,
The work is finisht now, I promis'd thee:
Here are thy virtues shewed, here register'd,
And here shall live for ever.

Jul. Blot it, burn it,
I have no virtue, hateful I am as hell is.

Pand. Is not this Virolet?

Jul. Ask no more questions,
Mistaking him I kill'd him.

Pand. O my Son,
Nature turns to my heart again, my dear Son,
Son of my age, would'st thou go out so quickly?
So poorly take thy leave, and never see me?
Was this a kind stroak daughter? could you love him?
Honour his Father, and so deadly strike him?
O wither'd timeless youth, are all thy promises,
Thy goodly growth of Honors come to this?
Do I halt still i'th' world, and trouble nature,
When her main pieces founder, and fail dayly?

Enter Boy, and three Servants.

Boy. He does weep certain: what bodie's that lies by him?
How do you do Sir?

Pand. O look there Lucio,
Thy Master, thy best Master.

Boy. Woe is me.
They have kill'd him, slain him basely, O my Master!

Pand. Well daughter well; what heart had you to do this?
I know he did you wrong; but 'twas his fortune,
And not his fault, for my sake that have lov'd you,
But I see now you scorn me too.

Boy. O Mistress?
Can you [si]t there, and his cold body breathless?
Basely upon the earth?

Pand. Let her alone Boy,
She glories in his end.

Boy. You shall not sit here,
And suffer him you loved—ha! good Sir come hither,
Come hither quickly, heave her up; O heaven Sir,
O God, my heart, sh's cold; cold and stiff too:
Stiff as a stake, she's dead.

Pand. She's gone, nere bend her.
I know her heart, she could not want his company:
Blessing go with thy soul, sweet Angels shadow it
O, that I were the third now, what a happiness!
But I must live, to see you layd in earth both,
Then build a Chapel to your memories,
Where all my wealth shall fashion out your stories.
Then dig a little grave besides, and all's done.
How sweet she looks, her eyes are open smiling,
I thought she had been alive, you are my charge Sir,
And amongst you, I'll see his goods distributed.
Take up the bodies, mourn in heart my friends,
You have lost two noble succors; follow me,
And thou sad Countrey, weep this misery. [Exeunt.

Enter Sess. Boatswaine, Master, Gunner, Citizens, and Souldiers, as many as may be.

Sess. Keep the Ports strongly mann'd, and let none enter,
But such as are known Patriots.

All. Liberty, liberty.

Sess. 'Tis a substantial thing, and not a word
You men of Naples, which if once taken from us,
All other blessings leave us; 'tis a jewel
Worth purchasing, at the dear rate of life,
And so to be defended. O remember
What you have suffer'd, since you parted with it;
And if again you wish not to be slaves,
And properties to Ferrand's pride and lust,
Take noble courage, and make pe[r]fect what
Is happily begun.

1. Cit. Our great preserver,
You have infranchis'd us, from wretched bondage.

2. Cit. And might be known, to whom we owe our freedom,
We to the death would follow him.

3. Cit. Make him King,
The Tyrant once remov'd.

Sess. That's not my end.
'Twas not ambition that brought me hither,
With these my faithful friends, nor hope of spoil;
For when we did possess the Tyrants treasure,
By force extorted from you, and employed,
To load you with most miserable thraldome,
We did not make it ours, but with it purchas'd
The help of these, to get you liberty,
That for the same price kept you in subjection.
Nor are we Switzers, worthy Countrey-men,
But Neapolitans, now eye me well;
And tho the reverend Emblems of mine age,
My silver locks are shorne, my beard cut off,
Partaking yet of an adulterate Colour;
Tho 14 years you have not seen this face,
You may remember it, and call to mind,
There was a Duke of Sess, A much wrong'd Prince,
Wrong'd by this Tyrant Ferrand.

1. Cit. Now I know him.

2. Cit. 'Tis he, long live the Duke of Sess.

Sess. I thank you.
The injuries I receiv'd, I must confess,
Made me forget the love I owed this Country,
For which I hope, I have given satisfaction,
In being the first that stir'd, to give it freedome;
And with your loves and furtherance, will call back,
Long banisht peace, and plenty, to this people.

2. Cit. Lead where you please, we'll follow.

1. Cit. Dare all dangers.

Enter Pandulf, the Bodies of Virolet, and Juliana upon a Hearse.

Sess. What solemn funeral's this?

Pand. There rest a while,
And if't be possible there can be added
Wings to your swift desire of just revenge,
Hear, (if my tears will give way to my words)
In brief a most sad story.

Sess. Speak, what are they?
I know thee well Pandulfe.

Pand. My best Lord?
As far as sorrow will give leave, most welcome;
This Virolet was, and but a Son of mine,
I might say, the most hopeful of our Gentry;
And though unfortunate, never ignoble:
But I'll speak him no farther. Look on this,
This face, that in a savage would move pitty,
The wonder of her Sex, and having said
'Tis Juliana, Eloquence will want words
To set out her deservings; this blest Lady
That did indure the Rack, to save her Husband,
That Husband, who, in being forc'd to leave her,
Indur'd a thousand tortures; by what practise,
I know not, (but 'twas sure a cunning one)
Are made, the last I hope, but sad examples
Of Ferrands tyranny. Convey the bodies hence.

Sess. Express your sorrow
In your revenge, not teares, my worthy Soldiers:
That fertile earth that teem'd so many children,
To feed his cruelty, in her wounded wombe,
Can hardly now receive 'em.

Boats. We are cold,
Cold walls shall not keep him from us.

Gun. Were he cover'd with mountains, and room only for a
Bullet to be sent level at him, I would speed him.

M[r]. Let's scale this petty Tower; at Sea we are Falcons,
And fly unto the main top in a moment.
What then can stop us here?

1 Cit. We'll tear him piece-meal.

2 Cit. Or eat a passage to him.

Ses. Let discretion
Direct your anger; that's a victory,
Which is got with least loss, let us make ours such:
And therefore friends, while we hold parley here,
Raise your scalado on the other side,
But enter'd wreak your suffrings.

[Exit Saylors and Soldiers.

1 Cit. In our wrongs:
There was no mean.

2 Cit. Nor in our full revenge
Will we know any.

Sess. Be appeas'd good man,
No sorrow can redeem them from deaths Prison;
What his inevitable hand hath seiz'd on,
The world cannot recover. All the comfort
That I can give to you, is to see vengeance
Pour'd dreadfully upon the Authors head,
Of which their ashes may be sensible,
That have fain by him. [Sound a parley.

Enter Ferrand, Martia, Ascanio, and Ronvere, above.

Pand. They appear.

Fer. 'Tis not that we esteem rebellious Traytors
Worthy an answer to their proudest Summons
That we vouchsafe our presence; or to exchange
One syllable with 'em: but to let such know,
Though circled round with treason, all points bent
As to their Center at my heart, 'tis free,
Free from fear, villains, and in this weak Tower
Ferrand commands as absolute, as when
He trod upon your necks, and as much s[c]orns you.
And when the Sun of Majesty shall break through
The clouds of your rebellion, every beam
Instead of comfortable heat shall send
Consuming plagues among you; and you call
That government which you term'd tyrannous
Hereafter, gentle.

Sess. Flatter not thy self
With these deluding hopes, thou cruel beast,
Thou art i'th' toyle, and the glad Huntsman prouder,
By whom thou art taken, of his prey, than if
(Like thee) he should command, and spoil his Forrest.

Fer. What art thou?

Sess. To thy horror Duke of Sesse.

Fer. The Divel.

Sess. Reserv'd for thy damnation.

Fer. Why shakes my love?

Mart. O I am lost for ever;
Mountains divide me from him; some kind hand
Prevent our fearful meeting: Or lead me
To the steep rock, whose rugged brows are bent
Upon the swelling main; there let me hide me:
And as our bodies then shall be divided,
May our souls never meet.

Fer. Whence grows this, Sweetest?

Mar. There are a thousand furies in his looks;
And in his deadly silence more loud horror,
Than when in hell the tortur'd and tormentors
Contend whose shreeks are greater. Wretched me!
It is my father.

Sess. Yes, and I will own her, Sir,
Till my revenge. It is my daughter, Ferrand;
My daughter thou hast whor'd.

Fer. I triumph in it:
To know she's thine, affords me more true pleasure,
Than the act gave me, when even at the height,
I crack'd her Virgin zone. Her shame dwell on thee,
And all thy family; may they never know
A female issue, but a whore; Ascanio.
Ronvere, look cheerfull; be thou a man too,
And learn of me to dye. That we might fall,
And in our ruines swallow up this Kingdom,
Nay the whole world, and make a second Chaos.
And if from thence a new beginning rise,
Be it recorded this did end with us;
And from our dust hath embryon.

Ron. I liv'd with you,
And will dye with you; your example makes me
Equally bold.

Asc. And I resolv'd to bear
What ere my fate appoints me.

Sess. They are ours,
Now to the spoyl.

Boats. Pitty the Lady; to all else be deaf. [Exeunt.
Within, Kill, kill, kill. [Alarum Flo. Trumpets. Retreat.

Enter Sesse with Ferrands head, the Citizens, Master, Boteswaine, Gunner, Souldiers bringing in Ascanio, and Martia.

Sess. Cruel beginnings meet with cruel ends;
And the best sacrifice to Heaven for peace,
Is tyrants blood: and those that stuck fast to him,
Flesh'd instruments in his commands to mischief,
With him dispatch'd.

Boats. They are cut off.

Sess. 'Tis well.

All. Thanks to the Duke of Sesse.

Sess. Pay that to Heaven,
And for a general joy, give general thanks:
For blessings nere descend from Heaven, but when
A grateful Sacrifice ascends from men.
To your devotion, leave me, there's a Scene,
Which I would act alone; yet you may stay,
For wanting just spectators, 'twill be nothing.
The rest forbear me.

Cit. Liberty, liberty, liberty.

Mar. I would I were as far beneath the Centre,
As now I stand above it; how I tremble!
Thrice happy they that dyed; I dying live
To stand the whirlwind of a fathers fury.
Now it moves toward me.

Sess. Thou, I want a name,
By which to stile thee: All articulate sounds
That do express the mischief of vile woman,
That are, or have been, or shall be, are weak
To speak thee to the height. Witch, Parricide,
For thou, in taking leave of modesty,
Hast kild thy father, and his honor lost;
He's but a walking shadow to torment thee.
To leave, and rob thy father; then set free
His foes, whose slavery he did prefer
Above all treasure, was a strong defeazance
To cut off, even the surest bonds of mercy.
After all this, having given up thy self,
Like to a sensual beast, a slave to lust,
To play the whore, and then (high Heaven it racks me)
To find out none to quench thy appetite,
But the most cruel King, whom next to Hell,
Thy father hated; and whose black imbraces
Thou shouldst have fled from, as the whips of furies;
What canst thou look for?

Enter Pandulph, and bodies born on the Herse.

Mart. Death; and 'tis not in you
To hurt me farther: my old resolution,
Take now the place of fear; in this I liv'd,
In this I'll dye, your daughter.

Pand. Look but here;
You had I know, a guilty hand in this;
Repent it Lady.

Mart. Juliana dead?
And Virolet?

Pand. By her unwilling hand.

Mart. Fates you are equal. What can now fall on me,
That I will shrink at? now unmov'd I dare
Look on your anger, and not bend a knee
To ask your pardon; let your rage run higher
Than billows rais'd up by a violent Tempest,
And be, as that is, deaf to all intreaties:
They are dead, and I prepar'd; for in their fall
All my desires are summ'd up.

Sess. Impudent too?
Die in it wretch.

Boats. Stay Sir. [Boats. kills her.

Sess. How dar'st thou villain,
Snatch from my sword the honor of my justice?

Boats. I never did you better service Sir,
Yet have been ever faithful. I confess
That she deserv'd to dye; but by whose hand?
Not by a fathers. Double all her guilt,
It could not make you innocent, had you done it.
In me 'tis murder, in you 'twere a crime
Heaven could not pardon. Witness that I love you,
And in that love I did it.

Sess. Thou art Noble,
I thank thee for't; the thought of her dye with her.

Asc. My turn is next: since she could find no mercy,
What am I to expect?

Cit. With one voyce, Sir,
The Citizens salute you with the stile
Of King of Naples.

Sess. I must be excus'd,
The burden is too heavy for my shoulder,
Bestow it where 'tis due. Stand forth Ascanio,
It does belong to you; live long and wear it,
And warn'd by the example of your Unkle,
Learn that you are to govern men, not beasts:
And that it is a most improvident head,
That strives to hurt the limbs that do support it.
Give burial to the dead; for me, and mine,
We will again to Sea, and never know,
The place, which in my birth first gave me woe. [Exeunt.

[Flor. of Trumpets.

[APPENDIX.]

In the following references to the text the lines are numbered from the top of the page, including titles, acts, stage directions, &c., but not, of course, the headline or mere 'rules.' Where, as in the lists of Persons Represented, there are double columns, the right-hand column is numbered after the left.

It has not been thought necessary to record the correction of every turned letter nor the substitution of marks of interrogation for marks of exclamation and vice versâ. 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 between the preceding and following words.