Beaumont and Fletcher's Works, Vol. 08 of 10

by Francis Beaumont; John Fletcher

PROLOGUE.

Wit is become an Antick, and puts on
As many shapes of variation,
To court the times applause, as the times dare,
Change several fashions, nothing is thought rare
Which is not new, and follow'd, yet we know
That what was worn some twenty years agoe,
Comes into grace again, and we pursue
That custom, by presenting to your view
A Play in fashion then, not doubting now
But 'twill appear the same, if you allow
Worth to their noble memory, whose name,
Beyond all power of death, live in their fame.

---

Actus Primus. Scæna Prima.

Enter Gentleman [a[n]d] Jaques.

Gent. What happiness waits on the life at Court,
What dear content, greatness, delight and ease!
What ever-springing hopes, what tides of honor!
That raise their fortunes to the height of wishes!
What can be more in man, what more in nature,
Than to be great and fear'd? A Courtier,
A noble Courtier, 'Tis a name that draws
Wonder and duty from all eyes and knees.
Jaq. And so your Worships Land within the Walls,
Where you shall have it all inclos'd, and sure.
Gent. Peace knave; dull creature, bred of sweat and smoke,
These mysteries are far above thy faith:
But thou shalt see—
Jaq. And then I shall believe;
Your fair revenues, turn'd into fair suits;
I shall believe your Tenant's bruis'd and rent
Under the weight of Coaches, all your state
Drawn through the streets in triumph, suits for places
Plied with a Mine of Gold, and being got
Fed with a great stream. I shall believe all this.
Gent. You shall believe, and know me glorious.
Cosin, good day and health.

Enter Cosin.

Cosin. The same to you, Sir,
And more, without my wishes, could you know
What calm content dwels in a private house:
Yet look into your self, retire: this place
Of promises, and protestations, fits
Minds only bent [t]o] ruin, you should know this,
You have their language perfect, you have tutors
I do not doubt, sufficient: but beware.
Gent. You are merry Cosin:
Cosin. Yet your patience,
You shall learn that too, but not like it self,
Where it is held a virtue; tell me Sir,
Have you cast up your State, rated your Land,
And find it able to endure the change
Of time and fashion? is it always harvest?
Always vintage? have you Ships at Sea,
To bring you Gold and Stone from rich Peru,
Monthly returning Treasure? doth the King
Open his large Exchequer to your hands
And bid [ye be] a great man? can your wife
Coin off her beauty? or the week allow
Suits to each day? and know no ebb in honor?
If these be possible, and can hold out,
Then be a Courtier still, and still be wasting.
Gent. Cosin, pray give me leave:
Cos. I have done.
Gent. I could requite your gall, and in a strain
As bitter, and as full of Rubarb, [preach]
Against your Countrey life, but 'tis below me
And only subject to my pitty, know
The eminent Court, to them that can be wise,
And fasten on her blessings, is a Sun
That draws men up from course and earthly Being,
I mean these men of merit that have power
And reason to make good her benefits,
Learns them a manly boldness, gives their tongues
Sweetness of Language, makes them apt to please;
Files of all rudeness, and uncivil haviour,
Shews them as neat in carriage, as in cloaths;
Cosin, have you ever seen the Court?
Cos. No Sir,
Nor am I yet in [travel] with that longing.
Gent. Oh the state and greatness of that place
Where men are found
Only to give the first creation glory!
Those are the models of the antient world
Left like the Roman Statues to stir up
Our following hopes, the place it self puts on
The brow of Majesty, and flings her lustre
Like the air newly light'ned; Form, and Order,
Are only there themselves, unforc'd, and sound,
As they were first created to this place.
Cos. You nobly came, but will goe from thence base.
Gent. 'Twas very pretty, and a good conceit;
You have a wit good Cosin, I do joy in't,
Keep it for Court: but to my self again,
When I have view'd these pieces, turn'd these eyes,
And with some taste of superstition,
Look'd on the wealth of Nature, the fair dames,
Beauties, that [light the Court, and make] it shew
Like a fair heaven, in a frosty night:
And 'mongst these mine, not poorest, 'tis for tongues
Of blessed Poets, such as Orpheus was,
To give their worth and praises; Oh dear Cosin:
You have a wife, and fair, bring her hither,
Let her not live to be the Mistriss of a Farmers heir
And be confin'd ever to a searge,
Far courser than my horse-cloth.
Let her have Velvets, Tiffinies, Jewels, Pearls,
A Coach, an Usher, and her two Lacquies,
And I will send my wife to give her rules,
And read the rudiments of Court to her.
Cos. Sir, I had rather send her to Virginia
To help to propagate the English Nation.

Enter Servant.

Gent. Sirrah, how slept your Mistriss, and what visitants
Are to pay service?
Serv. As I came out,
Two Counts were newly ent'red.
Gent. This is greatness,
But few such servants wait a Countrey beauty.
Cos. They are the more to thank their modesty,
God keep my Wife, and all my Issue Female
From such uprisings.

Enter a Doctor.

Gent. What? my learned Doctor?
You will be welcome, give her health and youth
And I will give you gold. [Exit Doctor.
Cosin, how savors this? is it not sweet
And very great, tasts it not of Nobleness?
Cos. Faith Sir, my pallat is too dull and lazie
I cannot taste it, 'tis not for my relish,
But be so still.
Since your own misery must first reclaim ye,
To which I leave you, Sir,
If you will, yet be happy, leave the humor
And base subjection to your Wife, be wise,
And let her know with speed, you are her Husband,
I shall be glad to hear it.
My horse is sent for. [Exit.
Gent. Even such another countrey thing as this
Was I, such a piece of dirt, so heavy,
So provident to heap up ignorance,
And be an ass: such musty cloaths wore I,
So old and thred-bare, I do yet remember
Divers young Gallants lighting at my Gate,
To see my honoured Wife, have offered pence,
And bid me walk their horses, such a slave
Was I in shew then: but my eyes are open'd.

Enter Gent. Wife.

Many sweet morrows to my worthy Wife.
Wife. 'Tis well, and aptly given, as much for you,
But to my present business, which is money—
Gent. Lady, I have none left.
Wife. I hope you dare not say so, nor imagine so base and low,
A thought: I have none left?
Are these words fitting for a man of worth,
And one of your full credit? Do you know
The place you live in? me? and what I labour
For, you? and your advancement?
Gent. Yes my dearest.
Wife. And do you pop me off with this slight answer,
In troth I have none left? in troth you must have;
Nay stare not, 'tis most true, send speedily
To all that love you, let your people flye
Like thunder, through the City,
And not return under five thousand Crowns.
Try all, take all, let not a [wealthy] Merchant be untempted
Or any one that hath the name of Money,
Take up at any Use, give Band, or Land,
Or mighty Statutes, able by their strength,
To tye up Sampson, were he now alive,
There must be money gotten; for be perswaded,
If we fall now, or be but seen to shrink,
Under our fair beginnings, 'tis our ruin,
And then good night to all, (but our disgrace)
Farewel the hope of coming happiness,
And all the aims we levied at so long.
Are ye not mov'd at this? no sense of want,
Towards your self yet breeding? be old,
And common; jaded to the eyes
Of Grooms, and Pages, Chamber-maids, and Guarders,
And when you have done, put your poor house in order
And hang your self, for such must be the end
Of him that willingly forsakes his hopes
And hath a joy to tumble to his ruin.
All that I say is certain, if ye fail
Do not [impute] me with it, I am clear.
Gent. Now heaven forbid I should do wrong to you
My dearest Wife, and Madam; yet give leave
To your poor creature to unfold himself.
You know my debts are many more than means,
My bands not taken in, my friends at home
Drawn dry with these expences, my poor Tenants
More full of want than we, then what new course
Can I beget, to raise those crowns by? speak,
And I shall execute.
Wife. Pray tell me true,
Have you not Land in the Countrey?
Gent. Pardon me, I had forgot it.
Wife. Sir, you must remember it,
There is no remedy, this Land must be,
In Paris e'r to morrow night.
Gent. It shall, let me consider, some 300 acres
Will serve the turn.
Wife. 'Twill furnish at all points,
Now you speak like your self, and know like him,
That means to be [a] man, suspect no less
For the return will give ye five for one,
You shall be great to morrow, I have said it.
Farewel, and see this business be a-foot,
With expedition. [Exit Wife.
Gent. Health, all joy, and honor
Wait on my lovely Wife. What? Jaques, Jaques.

Enter Jaques.

Jaq. Sir, did you call?
Gent. I did so, hie thee Jaques.
Down to the Bank, and there to some good Merchant
(Conceive me well, good Jaques, and be private)
Offer 300 acres of my Land:
Say it is choice and fertile, ask upon it
Five thousand Crowns, this is the business
I must employ thee in, be wise and speedy.
Jaq. Sir, do not do this.
Gent. Knave, I must have money.
Jaq. If you have money thus, your knave must tell ye
You will not have a foot of Land left, be more wary,
And more friend to your self, this honest Land
Your Worship has discarded, has been true,
And done you loyal service.
Gent. Gentle Jaques,
You have a merry wit, employ it well
About the business you have now in hand.
When ye come back, enquire me in the Presence,
If [not in] the Tennis-Court, or at my house. [Exit.
Jaq. If this vain hold, I know where to enquire ye.
Five thousand Crowns! this, with good husbandry,
May hold a month out, then 5000 more,
And more Land a bleeding for't, as many more,
And more Land laid aside. God and St. Dennis
Keep honest minded young men batchelors.
'Tis strange, my Master should be yet so young
A puppy, that he cannot see his fall
And got so near the Sun. I'll to his Cosin.
And once more tell him on't, if he fail,
Then to my Mortgage, next unto my sale. [Exit.

Enter Longovile, Bewford, and the Servant.

Serv. Gentlemen, hold on discourse a while,
I shall return with knowledge how and where
We shall have best access unto my Mistriss
To tender your devotions. [Exit.
Long. Be it so:
Now to our first discourse.
Bew. I prethee peace;
Thou canst not be so bad, or make me know
Such things are living, do not give thy self
So common and so idle, so open vile,
So great a wronger of thy worth, so low,
I cannot, nor I must not credit thee.
Lon. Now by this light I am a whoremaster,
An open, and an excellent whormaster,
And take a special glory that I am so:
I thank my Stars I am a whoremaster,
And such a one as dare be known and seen,
And pointed at to be a noble wencher.
Bew. Do not let all ears hear this, hark [y]e] Sir,
I am my self a whoremaster, I am
Believe it Sir (in private be it spoken)
I love a whore directly, most men are wenchers,
And have profest the Science, few men
That [look] upon ye now, but whoremasters,
Or have a full desire to be so.
Lon. This is noble.
Bew. It is without all question, being private,
And held as needful as intelligence,
But being once discover'd, blown abroad,
And known to common senses, 'tis no more
Than geometrical rules in Carpenters,
That only know some measure of an Art,
But are not grounded: be no more deceived,
I have a conscience to reclaim you, Sir.
Mistake me not: I do not bid you leave your whore
Or less to love her; forbid it,
I should be such a villain to my friend,
Or so unnatural: 'twas never harbor'd here,
Learn to be secret first, then strike your Deer.
Lon. Your fair instructions, [Mo[n]sieur], I shall learn.
Bew. And you shall have them; I desire your care.
Lon. They are your servants.
Bew. You must not love.
Lon. How Sir?
Bew. I mean a Lady, there's danger.
She hath an Usher and a Waiting Gentlewoman,
A Page, a Coach-man, these are fee'd and fee'd
And yet for all that will be prating.
Lon. So.
Bew. You understand me Sir, they will discover't,
And there is a loss of credit, Table-talk
Will be the end of this, or worse, than that;
Will this be worthy of a Gentleman?
Long. Proceed good Sir.
Bew. Next leave your City Dame;
The best of that Tribe, are most meerly coy,
Or most extreamly foolish, both which vices
Are no great stirrers up, unless in Husbands
That owe this Cattle, fearing her that's coy
To be but seeming, her that's fool too forward.
Lon. This is the rarest fellow, and the soundest,
I mean in knowledge, that e'r wore a Codpiece,
H'as found out that will pass all Italy,
All France and England; to their shames I speak,
And to the griefs of all their Gentlemen,
The noble Theory of Luxury.
Bew. Your patience,
And I will lay before your eyes a course
That I my self found out, 'tis excellent,
Easie, and full of freedome.
Long. O good Sir,
You rack me till I know it.
Bew. This it is,
When your desire is up, your blood well heated
And apt for sweet encounter, chuse the night,
And with the night your Wench, the streets have store,
There seize upon her, get her to your chamber,
Give her a cardecew, 'tis royal payment;
When ye are dull, dismiss her, no man knows,
Nor she her self, who hath encountred her.
Lon. O but their faces.
Bew. Nere talke of faces:
The night allows her equal with a Dutchess,
Imagination doth all think her fair,
And great, clapt in Velvet, she is so,
Sir, I have tryed those, and do find it certain
It never failes me, 'tis but twelve nights since
My last experience.
Lon. O my meiching Varlet, I'll fit ye as I live.
'Tis excellent, I'll be your Scholar Sir.

Enter Lady and Servant.

Wife. You are fairly welcome both: troth Gentlemen
You have been strangers, I could chide you for't,
And taxe ye with unkindness, What's the news?
The Town was never empty of some novelty;
Servant, What's your intelligence?
Ser. Faith nothing.
I have not heard of any worth relating.
Bew. Nor I sweet Lady.
Lon. Then give me attention,
Monsieur Shattillion's mad.
Wife. Mad?
Lon. Mad as May-butter,
And which is more, mad for a Wench.
Lady. 'Tis strange, and full of pity.
Lon. All that comes near him
He thinks are come of purpose to betray him,
Being full of strange conceit: the wench he loved
Stood very near the Crown.
Lady. Alass good Monsieur;
A' was a proper man, and fair demean'd,
A Person worthy of a better temper.
Lon. He is strong opinion'd that the Wench he lov'd
Remains close prisoner by the Kings command:
Fearing her title, when the poor grieved Gentlewoman
Follows him much lamenting, and much loving
In hope to make him well, he knows her not,
Nor any else that comes to visit him.
Lady. Let's walk in Gentlemen, and there discourse
His further miseries, you shall stay dinner,
In truth you must obey.
Om. We are your servants. [Exeunt.

Enter Couzen.

Cous. There's no good to be done, no cure to be wrought
Upon my desperate Kinsman: I'll to horse
And leave him to the fools whip, misery.
I shall recover twenty miles this night,
My horse stands ready, I'll away with speed.

Enter Shattillion.

Shat. Sir, may I crave your name?
Cous. Yes Sir you may:
My name is Cleremont.
Shat. 'Tis well, your faction?
What party knit you with?
Cous. I know no parties,
Nor no Factions, Sir.
Shat. Then weare this Cross of white:
And where you see the like they are my friends,
Observe them well, the time is dangerous.
Cous. Sir keep your cross, I'll weare none, sure this fellow
Is much beside himself, grown mad.
Shat. A word Sir;
You can pick nothing out of this, this cross
Is nothing but a cross, a very cross,
Plain, without spell, or witchcraft, search it,
You may suspect, and well, there's poyson in't,
Powder, or wild-fire, but 'tis nothing so.
Cous. I do believe you, Sir, 'tis a plain cross.
Shat. Then do your worst, I care not, tell the King,
Let him know all this, as I am sure he shall;
When you have spit your venome, then will I
Stand up a faithful, and a loyal Subject,
And so God save His Grace, this is no Treason.
Cous. He is March mad, farewell Monsieur. [Exit Couzen.
Shat. Farewel;
I shall be here attending, 'tis my life
They aime at, there's no way to save it, well
Let 'em spread all their nets: they shall not draw me
Into any open Treason, I can see,
And can beware, I have my wits about me,
I thank heaven for't.

Enter Love.

Love. There he goes,
That was the fairest hope the French Court bred,
The worthiest and the sweetest temper'd spirit,
The truest, and the valiantest, the best of judgment,
Till most unhappy I: sever'd those virtues,
And turn'd his wit wild with a coy denial,
Which heaven forgive me, and be pleas'd, O heaven
To give again his senses: that my love
May strike off all my follies.
Shat. Lady.
Love. I Sir.
Shat. Your will with me sweet Lady.
Love. Sir, I come.
Shat. From the dread sovereign King, I know it Lady,
He is a gracious Prince, long may he live,
Pertain you to his chamber?
Lov. No indeed Sir,
That place is not for women, Do you know me?
Shat. Yes, I do know you.
Lov. What's my name? pray you speak.
Shat. That's all one, I do know you and your business,
You are discover'd Lady, I am wary,
It stands upon my life; pray excuse me,
The best man of this Kingdom sent you hither,
To dive into me, have I toucht you? ha?
Lov. You are deceiv'd Sir, I come from your love,
That sends you fair commends, and many kisses.
Shat. Alass, poor soul, How does she? Is she living?
Keeps she her bed still?
Lov. Still Sir, She is living,
And well, and shall do so.
Shat. Are ye in counsel?
Lov. No Sir, nor any of my sex.
Shat. Why so,
If you had been in counsel, you would know,
Her time to be but slender; she must die.
Lov. I do believe it, Sir.
Shat. And suddenly,
She stands too near a fortune.
Lov. Sir?
Shat. 'Tis so,
There is no jesting with a Princes Title,
Would we had both been born of common parents,
And liv'd a private and retir'd life,
In homely cottage, we had then enjoyed,
Our loves, and our embraces, these are things,
That cannot tend to Treason—
Lov. I am wretched.
Shat. O I pray as often for the King as any,
And with as true a heart, for's continuance,
And do moreover pray his heirs may live;
And their fair issues, then as I am bound
For all the states and commons: if these prayers
Be any wayes ambitious, I submit,
And lay my head down, let 'em take it off;
You may informe against me, but withall
Remember my obedience to the Crown,
And service to the State.
Lov. Good Sir, I love ye.
Shat. Then love the gracious King, and say with me.
Lov. Heaven save his Grace.
Shat. This is strange—
A woman should be sent to undermine me,
And buz love into me to try my spirit;
Offer me kisses, and enticing follies,
To make me open, and betray my self;
It was a subtile and a dangerous plot,
And very soundly followed, farewel Lady,
Let me have equal hearing, and relate
I am an honest Man. Heaven save the King. [Exit.
Love. I'll never leave him, till, by art or prayer,
I have restor'd his senses, If I make
Him perfect Man again, he's [mine, till when],
I here abjure all loves of other men. [Exit.

Enter Cozen, and Jaques.

Jaques. Nay, good Sir be perswaded, go but back,
And tell him hee's undone, say nothing else;
And you shall see how things will work upon't.
Cozen. Not so good Jaques, I am held an asse,
A Countrey Fool, good to converse with dirt,
And eate course bread, weare the worst Wooll,
Know nothing but the high-way to Paris,
And wouldst thou have me bring these stains,
And imperfections to the rising view
Of the right worshipful thy worthy Master?
They must be bright, and shine, their cloaths
Soft Velvet, and the [Tyrian Purple]
Like the Arabian gums, hung like the Sun,
Their golden beames on all sides;
Such as these may come and know
Thy Master, I am base, and dare not speak unto him,
Hee's above me.
Ja. If ever you did love him, or his state,
His name, his issue, or your self, go back:
'Twill be an honest and a noble part
Worthy a Kinsman; save 300 Acres
From present execution; they have had sentence,
And cannot be repriev'd, be merciful.
Co. Have I not urg'd already all the reasons,
I had to draw him from his will? his ruin?
But all in vain, no counsel will prevail;
H'as fixt himself, there's no removing, Jaques,
'Twill prove but breath and labor spent in vain,
I'll to my horse, farewell.
Ja. For Gods sake, Sir,
As ever you have hope of joy, turn back;
I'll be your slave for ever, do but go,
And I will lay such fair directions to you
That if he be not doting on his fall,
He shall recover sight, and see his danger,
And ye shall tell him of his Wives abuses,
I fear, too foul against him; how she plots,
With our young Mounsiers, to milk-dry her husband,
And lay it on their backs; the next her pride;
Then what his debts are, and how infinite
The curses of his Tenants, this will work
I'll pawn my life and head, he cries away,
I'll to my house in the Countrey.
Co. Come, I'll go, and once more try him,
If he yield not, so,
The next that tryes him shall be want and woe. [Exeunt.

Actus Secundus. [Scæna Prima.]

Enter Gentleman, Solus.

Gent. Jaques.
Jaq. Sir. [Within.
Gent. Rise Jaques 'tis grown day,
The Country life is best, where quietly,
Free from the clamor of the troubled Court,
We may enjoy our own green shadowed walks,
And keep a moderate diet without art.
Why did I leave my house, and bring my Wife,
To know the manner of this subtile place?
I would, when first the lust to fame and honor,
Possest me, I had met with any evil,
But that; had I been tied to stay at home,
And earn the bread for the whole family,
With my own hand, happy had I been.

Enter Jaques.

Jaq. Sir, this is from your wonted course at home,
When did ye there keep such inordinate hours?
Goe to bed late? start thrice? and call on me?
Would you were from this place; our Countrey sleeps,
Although they were but of that moderate length
That might maintain us in our daily work,
Yet were they sound and sweet.
Gent. I Jaques, there we dreamt not of our Wives, we lay together;
And needed not; now at length my Cozens words,
So truly meant, mixt with thy timely prayers
So often urged, to keep me at my home,
Condemn me quite.
Ja. 'Twas not your fathers course:
He liv'd and dy'd in Orleance, where he had
His Vines as fruitful as experience
(Which is the art of Husbandry) could make;
He had his presses for 'em, and his wines
Were held the best, and out-sold other Mens,
His corn and cattel serv'd the neighbor Towns
With plentiful provision, yet his thrift
Could miss one Beast amongst the heard;
He rul'd more where he liv'd, than ever you will here.
Gent. 'Tis true, why should my Wife then, 'gainst my good,
Perswade me to continue in this course?
Ja. Why did you bring her hither at the first,
Before you warm'd her blood with new delights?
Our Countrey sports could have [contented her;
When you first married her a] puppet-play
Pleas'd her as well as now the tilting doth.
She thought her self brave in a bugle chain,
Where Orient pearl will scarce content her now.
Gent. Sure Jaques, she sees something for my good
More than I do; she oft will talk to me
Of Offices, and that she shortly hopes,
By her acquaintance with the friends she hath,
To get a place shall many times outweigh
Our great expences, and if this be so—
Ja. Think better of her words, she doth deceive you,
And only for her vain and sensual ends
Perswade ye thus. Let me be set to dwell
For ever naked in the barest soil,
So you will dwell from hence.
Gent. I see my folly,
Pack up my stuffe, I will away this morne.
Haste—haste.
Ja. I, now I see your Father's honors
Trebling upon you, and the many prayers
The Countrey spent for him, which almost now
Begun to turn to curses, turning back,
And falling like a [timely] shower
Upon ye.
Gent. Goe, call [up] my Wife.
Ja. But shall she not prevail,
And sway you, as she oft hath done before?
Gent. I will not hear her, but raile on her,
Till I be ten miles off.
Ja. If you be forty,
'Twill not be worse Sir:
Gent. Call her up.
Ja. I will Sir. [Exit.
Gent. Why what an Ass was I that such a thing
As a Wife is could rule me!
Know not I that woman was created for the man,
That her desires, nay all her thoughts should be
As his are? is my sense restor'd at length?
Now she shall know, that which she should desire,
She hath a husband that can govern her,

Enter Wife.

If her desires leads me against my will;
Are you come?
Wife. What sad unwonted course
Makes you raise me so soon, that went to bed
So late last-night.
Gent. O you shall goe to bed sooner hereafter,
And be rais'd again at thrifty hours:
In Summer time wee'l walk
An hour after our Supper, and to bed,
In Winter you shall have a set at Cards,
And set your Maids to work.
Wife. What do you mean?
Gent. I will no more of your new tricks, your honors,
Your Offices, and all your large preferments,
Which still you beat into my ears, hang o'er me,
I'll leave behind for others, the great sway
Which I shall bear at Court: my living here
With countenance of your honoured friends,
I'll be content to lose: for you speak this
Only that you may still continue here
In wanton ease: and draw me to consume,
In cloaths and other things idle for shew,
That which my Father got with honest thrift.
Wife. Why, who hath been with you Sir,
That you talk thus out of Frame.
Gent. You make a fool of me:
You provide one to bid me forth to supper,
And make me promise; then must some one or other
Invite you forth, if you have born your self
Loosely to any Gentleman in my sight
At home, you ask me how I like the carriage,
Whether it were not rarely for my good,
And open'd not a way to my preferment?
Come, I perceive all: talk not, we'll away.
Wife. Why Sir, you'll stay till the next triumph
Day be past?
Gent. I, you have kept me here triumphing
This seven years, and I have ridden through the streets,
And bought embroyder'd hose and foot-cloths too,
To shew a subjects zeal, I rode before
In this most gorgeous habit, and saluted
All the acquaintance I could espie
From any window, these are wayes ye told me
To raise me; I see all: make you ready straight,
And in that Gown which you came first to Town in,
Your safe-guard, cloak, and your hood sutable:
Thus on a double gelding shall you amble,
And my man Jaques shall be set before you.
Wife. But will you goe?
Gent. I will.
Wife. And shall I too?
Gent. And you shall too.
Wife. But shall I by this light?
Gent. Why by this light you shall.
Wife. Then by this light
You have no care of your Estate, and mine.
Have we been seven years venturing in a Ship,
And now upon return, with a fair wind,
And a calm Sea, full fraught with our own wishes,
Laden with wealth and honor to the brim,
And shall we flye away and not receive it?
Have we been tilling, sowing, labouring,
With pain and charge a long and tedious winter,
And when we see the corn above the ground,
Youthful as is the Morn and [the] full eare,
That promises to stuffe our spacious garners,
Shall we then let it rot, and never reap it?
Gent. Wife talke no more, your Rhetorick comes too late,
I am inflixible; and how dare you
Adventure to direct my course of life?
Was not the husband made to rule the Wife?
Wife. 'Tis true: but where the man doth miss his way,
It is the Womans part to set him right;
So Fathers have a power to guide their Sons
In all their courses, yet you oft have seen
Poor little children, that have both their eyes,
Lead their blind Fathers.
Gen. She has a plaguy wit,
I say you'r but a little piece of man.
Wife. But such a piece, as being tane away,
Man cannot last: the fairest and tallest ship,
That ever sail'd, is by a little piece of the same
Wood, steer'd right, and turn'd about.
Gen. 'Tis true she sayes, her answers stand with reason.
Wife. But Sir, your Cozin put this in your head,
Who is an enemy to your preferment,
Because I should not take place of his wife;
Come, by this kiss, thou shalt not go sweet heart.
Gen. Come, by this kiss I will go Sweet-heart,
On with your riding stuffe: I know your tricks,
And if preferment fall ere you be ready,
'Tis welcome, else adieu the City life.
Wife. Well, Sir, I will obey.
Gent. About it then.
Wife. To please your humor I would dress my self,
In the most loathsome habit you could name,
Or travel any whether o're the World,
If you command me, it shall ne'r be said,
The frailty of a woman, whose weak mind,
Is often set on loose delights, and shews,
Hath drawn her husband to consume his state,
In the vain hope of that which never fell.
Gen. About it then, women are pleasant creatures,
When once a man begins to know himself.
Wife. But hark you Sir, because I will be sure,
You shall have no excuse, no word to say
In your defence hereafter; when you see
What honors were prepar'd for you and me,
Which you thus willingly have thrown away,
I tell you I did look for present honor,
This morning for you, which I know had come:
But if they do not come ere I am ready
(Which I will be the sooner least they should)
When I am once set in a countrey life,
Not all the power of earth shall alter me,
Not all your prayers or threats shall make me speak
The least words to my honorable friends,
To do you any grace.
Gent. I will not wish it.
Wife. And never more hope to be honorable.
Gent. My hopes are lower.
Wife. As I live you shall not,
You shall be so far from the name of noble
That you shall never see a Lord again;
You shall not see a Maske, or Barriers,
Or Tilting, or a solemn Christning,
Or a great Marriage, or new Fire-works,
Or any bravery; but you shall live
At home, bespotted with your own lov'd durt,
In scurvy cloaths, as you were wont to doe,
And to content you, I will live so too.
Gen. Tis all I wish, make haste, the day draws on,
It shall be my care to see your Stuffe packt up.
Wife. It shall be my care to gull you: you shall stay. [Ex. Gen.
And more than so, intreat me humbly too,
You shall have honors presently; Maria.

Enter Maria.

Mar. Madam.
Wife. Bring hither, pen, ink, and paper.
Ma. 'Tis here.
Wife. Your Master will not stay,
Unless preferment come within an hour.
Mar. Let him command one of the City gates,
In time of mutiny, or you may provide him,
To be one of the counsel for invading,
Some savage Countrey to plant Christian faith.
Wife. No, no, I have it for him, call my page;
Now, my dear husband, there it is will fit you. [Ex. Maria.
And when the world shall see what I have done,
Let it not move the spleen of any Wife,
To make an Ass of her beloved husband,
Without good ground, but if they will be drawn
To any reason by you, do not gull them;
But if they grow conceited of themselves,
And be fine Gentlemen, have no mercy,
Publish them to the World, 'twill do them good
When they shall see their follies understood,
Go bear these Letters to my servant,
And bid him make haste, I will dress my self,
In all the Journey-Cloaths I us'd before,
Not to ride, but to make the Laughter more. [Exit.

Enter Gentleman, and Jaques.

Gent. Is all packt up?
Ja. All, all Sir, there is no tumbler
Runs through his hoop with more dexterity,
Then I about this business: 'Tis a day,
That I have long long'd to see.
Gent. Come, Where's my Spurs?
Ja. Here, Sir, and now 'tis come.
Gent. I, Jaques, now,
I thank my fates, I can command my Wife.
Ja. I am glad to see it, Sir.
Gent. I do not love alwayes,
To be made a puppie, Jaques.
Ja. But, yet me thinks your Worship does not look,
Right like a Countrey Gentleman.
Gent. I will, give me my t'other hat.
Ja. Here.
Gent. So, my Jerkin.
Ja. Yes, Sir.
Gent. On with it Jaques, thou and I
Will live so finely in the Countrey, Jaques,
And have such pleasant walks into the Woods
A mornings, and then bring home riding-rods,
And walking staves—
Ja. And I will bear them, Sir,
And Skurdge-sticks for the children.
Gent. So thou shalt,
And thou shalt do all, over-see my Work-folkes,
And at the weeks end pay them all their wages.
Ja. I will, Sir, so your Worship give me Money.
Gent. Thou shalt receive all too: give me my Drawers.
Ja. They are ready, Sir.
Gent. And I will make thy Mistriss,
My wife, look to her landrie, and her dairy,
That we may have our linnen clean on Sundayes.
Ja. And Holy-dayes.
Gent. I, and ere we walk about the Grounds
Provide our break-fast,
Or she shall smoke, I'll have her a good huswife;
She shall not make a voyage to her Sisters,
But she shall live at home,
And feed her pullen fat, and see her Maides
In bed before her, and lock all the doors.
Ja. Why that will be a life for Kings and Queens.
Gen. Give me my Scarfe with the great Button quickly.
Ja. 'Tis done, Sir.
Gen. Now my Mittens.
Ja. Here they are, Sir.
Gen. 'Tis well: now my great dagger.
Ja. There.
Gen. Why so; thus it should be, now my riding rod.
Ja. There's nothing wanting, Sir.
Gen. Another, man, to stick under my girdle.
Ja. There it is.
Gent. All is well.
Ja. Why now methinks your Worship looks
Like to your self, a Man of means and credit,
So did your grave and famous Ancestors,
Ride up and down to Fairs, and cheapen cattel.
Gent. Goe, hasten your Mistriss, Sirra.
Ja. It shall be done. [Ex. Jaques.

Enter Servant and Page.

Ser. Who's that? who's that Boy?
Page. I think it be my Master.
Ser. Who, he that walkes in gray, whisking his riding rod?
Pag. Yes, Sir, 'tis he.
Ser. 'Tis he indeed; he is prepar'd
For his new journey; when I wink upon you,
Run out and tell the Gentleman 'tis time—
Monsieur good day.
Gen. Monsieur, your Mistriss is within, but yet not ready.
Ser. My business is with you, Sir; 'tis reported,
I know not whether by some enemy
Maliciously, that envies your great hopes,
And would be ready to sow discontents
Betwixt his Majesty, and you, or truely,
Which on my faith I would be sorry for,
That you intend to leave the Court in haste.
Gen. Faith, Sir, within this half hour. Jaques?
Jaques within: Sir?
Gent. Is my Wife ready?
Ja. Presently.
Ser. But Sir,
I needs must tell you, as I am your friend,
You should have ta'en your journey privater,
For 'tis already blaz'd about the Court.
Gen. Why Sir, I hope it is no Treason, is it?
Ser. 'Tis true, Sir, but 'tis grown the common talk,
There's no discovery else held, and in the presence
All the Nobility and Gentry,
Have nothing in their mouths but only this,
Monsieur Marine, that noble Gentleman,
Is now departing hence: every Mans face
Looks ghastly on his fellows; such a sadness
(Before this day) I ne'er beheld in Court,
Mens hearts begin to fail them when they hear it,
In expectation of the great event
That needs must follow it, pray Heaven it be good!
Gen. Why, I had rather all their hearts should fail,
Than I stay here until my purse fail me.
Ser. But yet you are a Subject, and beware,
I charge you by the love I bear to you,
How you do venture rashly on a course,
To make your Sovereign jealous of your deeds,
For Princes jealousies, where they love most,
Are easily found, but they be hardly lost.
Gen. Come, these are tricks, I smell 'em, I will goe.
Ser. Have I not still profest my self your friend?
Gen. Yes, but you never shewd it to me yet.
Ser. But now I will, because I see you wise,
And give ye thus much light into a business,
That came to me but now, be resolute,
Stand stifly to it that you will depart,
And presently.
Gen. Why so I mean to doe.
Ser. And by this light you may be what you will;
Will you be secret, Sir?
Gen. Why? What's the matter?
Ser. The King does fear you.
Gent. How?
Ser. And is now in Counsel;
Gent. About me?
Ser. About you, and you be wise,
You'll find he's in Counsel about you:
His Counsellors have told him all the truth.
Gent. What truth?
Ser. Why, that which now he knows too well.
Gent. What is't?
Ser. That you have followed him seven years,
With a great train: and though he have not grac't you,
Yet you have div'd into the hearts of thousands,
With liberality and noble carriage;
And if you should depart home unprefer'd,
All discontented, and seditious spirits
Would flock to you, and thrust you into action:
With whose help, and your Tenants, who doth not know
(If you were so dispos'd:)
How great a part of this yet fertile peaceful Realm of France
You might make desolate? but when the King
Heard this—
Gent. What said he?
Ser. Nothing, but shook,
As never Christian Prince did shake before.
And to be short, you may be what you will
But be not ambitious Sir, sit down
With moderate honors, least you make your self
More fear'd.
Gent. I know, Sir, what I have to doe
In mine own business.

Enter Longavile.

Long. Where's Monsieur Mount Marine?
Ser. Why there he stands, will you ought with him?
Long. Yes: Good day Monsieur Marine.
Gent. Good day to you.
Long. His Majesty doth commend himself,
Most kindly to you Sir, and hath, by me,
Sent you this favor: kneel down, rise a Knight.
Gent. I thank his Majesty.
Long. And he doth further request you,
Not to leave the Court so soon,
For though your former merits have been slighted,
After this time there shall no Office fall;
Worthy your spirit, as he doth confess
There's none so great, but you shall surely have it.
Ser. Do you hear? if you yield yet you are an ass.
Gent. I'll shew my service to his Majesty
In greater things than these, but for this small one
I must intreat his Highness to excuse me.
Long. I'll bear your Knightly words unto the King,
And bring his Princely answer back again. [Exit Long.
Ser. Well said, be resolute a while, I know
There is a tide of honors coming on.
I warrant you.

Enter Bewford.

Bew. Where is this new made Knight?
Gent. Here, Sir.
Bew. Let me enfold you in my arms,
Then call you Lord, the King will have it so,
Who doth entreat your Lordship to remember
His Message sent to you by Longavile.
Ser. If ye be durty, and dare not mount aloft;
You may yield now, I know what I would do.
Gent. Peace, I will fit him; tell his Majesty
I am a Subject, and I do confess
I serve a gracious Prince, that thus hath heapt
Honors on me without desert, but yet
As for the Message, business urgeth me,
I must be gone, and he must pardon me,
Were he ten thousand Kings and Emperors.
Bew. I'll tell him so.
Ser. Why, this was like your self.
Bew. As he hath wrought him, 'tis the finest fellow
That e're was Christmas Lord, he carries it
So truely to the life, as though he were
One of the plot to gull himself. [Exit Bewf.
Ser. Why so, you sent the wisest and the shrewdest [answer]
Unto the King, I swear, my honored friend,
That ever any Subject sent his Liege.
Gent. Nay now I know I have him on the hip,
I'll follow it.

Enter Longavile.

Long. My honorable Lord,
Give me your noble hand right courteous Peer,
And from henceforth be a courtly Earl;
The King so wills, and Subjects must obey:
Only he doth desire you to consider
Of his request.
Ser. Why faith you'r well my Lord, yield to him.
Gent. Yield? why 'twas my plot.
Ser. Nay, 'twas your Wives plot.
Gent. To get preferment by it,
And thinks he now to pop me i'th' mouth
But with an Earldome? I'll be one step higher.
Ser. 'Tis the finest Lord, I am afraid anon
He will stand upon't to share the Kingdom with him.

Enter Bewford.

Bew. Where's this Courtly Earl?
His Majesty commends his love unto you;
And will you but now grant to his request,
He bids you be a Duke, and chuse of whence.
Ser. Why if you yield not now, you are undone,
What can you wish to have more, but the Kingdom?
Gent. So please his Majesty, I would be D. of Burgundy,
Because I like the place.
Bew. I know the King is pleas'd.
Gent. Then will I stay and kiss his Highness hand.
Bew. His Majesty will be a glad man when he hears it.
Lon. But how shall we keep this from the world's ear,
That some one tell him not, he is no Duke?
Ser. Wee'l think of that anon.
Why Gentlemen, Is this a gracious habit for a Duke?
Each gentle body set a finger to
To pluck the clouds of this his riding weeds
From off the orient Sun of his best cloaths;
I'll pluck one Boot and spur off.
Long. I another.
Bew. I'll pluck his Jerkin off.
Ser. Sit down my Lord;
Both his spurs off at once good Longavile,
And Bewford, take that Scarfe off, and that Hat,
Doth not become his largely sprouting fore-head.
Now set your gracious foot to this of mine,
One pluck will do it, so, off with the other.
Lon. Loe, thus your servant Longavile doth pluck
The trophy of your former gentry off.
Off with his Jerkin Bewford.
Ser. Didst thou never see
A nimble footed Taylor stand so in his stockings,
Whilst some friend help'd to pluck his Jerkin off,
To dance a Jigg?

Enter Jaques.

Lon. Here's his man Jaques come,
Booted and ready still.
Jaq. My Mistriss stayes;
Why how now Sir? What [do's your] Worship mean,
To pluck your grave and thrifty habit off.
Gent. My slippers, Jaques.
Lon. O thou mighty Duke,
Pardon this Man,
That thus hath trespassed in ignorance.
Gent. I pardon him.
Lon. His Graces slippers, Jaques.
Ja. Why what's the matter?
Lon. Foot-man, he's a Duke:
The King hath rais'd him above all his Land.
Ja. I'll to his Cozen presently, and tell him so;
O what a dung-hill Countrey rogue was I. [Exit Jaques.

Enter Wife.

Ser. See, see, my Mistriss.
Lon. Let's observe their greeting.
Wife. Unto your will, as every good Wife ought,
I have turn'd all my thoughts, and now am ready.
Gent. O Wife, I am not worthy to kiss the least
Of all thy toes, much less thy Thumb,
Which yet I would be bold with; all thy counsel
Hath been to me Angelical, but mine to thee
Hath been most dirty, like my mind:
Dear Duchess I must stay.
Wife. What are you mad, to make me
Dress, and undress, turn and wind me,
Because you find me plyant? said I not
The whole world should not alter me, if once
I were resolv'd? and now you call me Duchess:
Why what's the matter?
Gent. Loe a Knight doth kneel.
Wife. A Knight?
Gent. A Lord.
Wife. A Fool.
Gent. I say doth kneel an Earl, a Duke.
Long. In Drawers.
Bew. Without shoes.
Wife. Sure you [are] lunatick.
Ser. No, honoured Duchess,
If you dare but believe your servants truth,
I know he is a Duke.
Long. God save his Grace.
Wife. I ask your Graces pardon.
Gent. Then I rise,
And here, in token that all strife shall end,
'Twixt thee and me, I let my drawers fall,
And to thy hands I do deliver them:
Which signifies, that in all acts and speeches,
From this time forth, my Wife shall wear the breeches.
Ser. An honorable composition. [Exeunt omnes.

Actus Tertius. [Scæna Prima.]

Enter Cozen, and Jaques.

Coz. Shall I believe thee, Jaques?
Ja. Sir you may.
Coz. Didst thou not dreame?
Ja. I did not.
Coz. Nor imagine?
Ja. Neither of both: I saw him great and mighty,
I saw the Monsieurs bow, and heard them cry,
Good health and fortune to my Lord the Duke.
Coz. A Duke art sure? a Duke?
Ja. I am sure a Duke,
And so sure, as I know my self for Jaques.
Coz. Yet the Sun may dazel; Jaques, Was it not
Some leane Commander of an angry Block-house
To keep the Fleemish Eele-boats from invasion,
Or some bold Baron able to dispend
His fifty pounds a year, and meet the foe
Upon the Kings command, in gilded canvas,
And do his deeds of worth? or was it not
Some place of gain, as Clerk to the great Band
Of maribones, that people call the Switzers?
Men made of Beufe, and Sarcenet?
Ja. Is a Duke his chamber hung with Nobles like a presence?
Coz. I am something wavering in my faith;
Would you would settle me, and swear 'tis so,
Is he a Duke indeed?
Ja. I swear he is.
Coz. I am satisfied, he is my Kinsman. Jaques,
And I his poor unworthy Cozen.
Ja. True, Sir.
Coz. I might have been a Duke too, I had means,
A wife as fair as his, and as wise as his;
And could have brookt the Court as well as his,
And laid about her for her husbands honor:
O Jaques, had I ever dreamt of this,
I had prevented him.
Ja. Faith Sir it came
Above our expectation, we were wise
Only in seeking to undoe this honor,
Which shewed our dung-hill breeding and our durt.
Coz. But tell me Jaques,
Why could we not perceive? what dull Divel
Wrought us to cross this noble course, perswading
'Twould be his overthrow? ['fore me] a Courtier
Is he that knows all, Jaques, and does all,
'Tis as his noble Grace hath often said,
And very wisely, Jaques, we are fools,
And understand just nothing.
Ja. I, as we were, I confess it.
But rising with our great Master,
We shall be call'd to knowledge with our places,
'Tis nothing to be wise, not thus much there,
There's not the least of the billet dealers,
Nor any of the Pastry, or the Kitchin,
But have it in measure delicate.
Coz. Methinks this greatness of the Dukes my Cozens,
(I ask you mercy, Jaques, that near name
Is too familiar for me) should give promise
Of some great benefits to his attendants.
Ja. I have a suit my self, and it is sure,
Or I mistake my ends much.
Coz. What is't Jaques,
May I not crave the place?
Ja. Yes, Sir, you shall,
'Tis to be but his Graces Secretary,
Which is my little all, and my ambition,
Till my known worth shall take me by the hand,
And set me higher; how the fates may do
In this poor thread of life, is yet uncertain;
I was not born I take it for a Trencher,
Nor to espouse my Mistriss Dairy-maid.
Couz. I am resolv'd my Wife shall up to Court;
I'll furnish her, that is a speeding course,
And cannot chuse but breed a mighty fortune;
What a fine youth was I, to let him start,
And get the rise before me! I'll dispatch,
And put my self in Moneys.
Ja. Mass 'tis true,
And now you talke of Money; Sir, my business
For taking those Crowns must be dispatcht:
This little plot in the Countrey lies most fit
To do his Grace such serviceable uses,
I must about it.
Couz. Yet, before you goe,
Give me your hand, and bear my humble service
To the great Duke your Master, and his Duchess,
And live your self in favor: say my Wife
Shall there attend them shortly, so farewell.
Ja. I'll see you mounted, Sir.
Couz. It may not be,
Your place is far above it, spare your self,
And know I am your servant, fare ye well. [Exit Couzen.
Ja. Sir I shall rest to be commanded by you,
This place of Secretary will not content me,
I must be more and greater: let me see;
To be a Baron is no such great matter
As people take it: for say I were a Count,
I am still an under-person to this Duke,
Which methinks sounds but harshly: but a Duke?
O I am strangely taken, 'tis a Duke
Or nothing, I'll advise upon't, and see
What may be done by wit and industry. [Exit.

Enter Wife, Longoveil, Bewford, Servants.

Wife. It must be carried closely with a care
That no man speak unto him, or come near him,
Without our private knowledge, or be made
Afore-hand to our practice:
My good husband,
I shall entreat you now to stay a while,
And prove a noble coxcomb.
Gentlemen,
Your counsel and advice about this carriage.
Ser. Alas good man, I do begin to mourn
His dire Massacre: what a persecution
Is pouring down upon him! sure he is sinful.
Long. Let him be kept in's chamber under shew
Of state and dignity, and no man suffer'd
To see his noble face, or have access,
But we that are Conspirators.
Bew. Or else down with him into the Countrey amongst his Tenants,
There he may live far longer in his greatness,
And play the fool in pomp amongst his fellows.
Wife. No, he shall play the fool in the City, and stay,
I will not lose the greatness of this jest,
That shall be given to my wit, for the whole Revenues.
Ser. Then thus wee'll have a guard about his person,
That no man come too near him, and our selves
Alwayes in company; have him into the City
To see his face swell; whilst, in divers corners,
Some of our own appointing shall be ready
To cry heaven bless your Grace, long live your Grace.
Wife. Servant, your counsel's excellent good,
And shall be follow'd, 'twill be rarely strange
To see him stated thus, as though he went
A shroving through the City, or intended
To set up some new [stake]:
I shall not hold
From open laughter, when I hear him cry,
Come hither my sweet Duchess: let me kiss
Thy gracious lips: for this will be his phrases?
I fear me nothing but his legs will break
Under his mighty weight of such a greatness.
Bew. Now me thinks dearest Lady you are too cruel;
His very heart will freeze in knowing this.
Wife. No, no, the man was never of such deepness,
To make conceit his Master: Sir, I'll assure ye
He will out-live twenty such pageants.
Were he but my Cozen, or my Brother,
And such a desperate killer of his fortune,
In this belief he should dye, though it cost me
A thousand Crowns a day to hold it up;
Or were I not known his wife, and so to have
An equal feeling of this ill he suffers,
He should be thus till all the Boyes i'th' Town
Made sute to weare his badges in their hats,
And walk before his Grace with sticks and nose-gayes,
We Married Women hold—
Ser. 'Tis well, no more.
The Duke is entring, set [you[r] faces right,
And bow like Countrey Prologues: here he comes.
Make room afore, the Duke is entring.

Enter Duke.

Long. The choisest fortunes wait upon our Duke.
Ser. And give him all content and happiness.
Bew. Let his great name live to the end of time.
Duke. We thank you, and are pleas'd to give you notice
We shall at fitter times wait on your Loves,
Till when, be near Us.
Longv. 'Tis a valiant purge, and works extreamly;
'Thas delivered him
Of all Right worshipful and gentle humors,
And left his belly full of nobleness.
Du. It pleased the King my Master,
For sundry vertues not unknown to him,
And the all-seeing state, to lend his hand,
And raise me to this Eminence, how this
May seem to other Men, or stir the minds
Of such as are my fellow Peers, I know not,
I would desire their loves in just designs.
Wife. Now by my faith he does well, very well:
Beshrew my heart I have not seen a better,
Of a raw fellow, that before this day
Never rehearst his state: 'tis marvellous well.
Ser. Is he not Duke indeed, see how he looks
As if his spirit were a last, or two
Above his veins, and stretcht his noble hide.
Long. Hee's high-brac't like a Drum, pray God he break not.
Bew. Why let him break, there's but a Calves-skin lost.
Long. May it please your Grace to see the City,
'Twill be to the minds and much contentment
Of the doubtful people.
Du. I am determin'd so, till my return
I leave my honour'd Dutchess to her chamber.
Be careful of your health, I pray you be so.
Ser. Your Grace shall suffer us your humble servants
To give attendance, fit so great a person
Upon your body.
Du. I am pleased so.
Long. Away good Bewford, raise a guard sufficient
To keep him from the reach of Tongues, be quick;
And do you hear, remember how the streets
Must be dispos'd with, for cries, and salutations.
Your Grace determines not to see the King—
Du. Not yet, I shall be ready ten dayes hence
To kiss his Highness hand, and give him thanks,
As it is fit I should for his great bounty.
Set forward Gentlemen.
Groom. Room for the Duke there. [Exeunt Duke and Train.
Wife. 'Tis fit he should have room to shew his mightiness,
He swells so with his poyson,
'Tis better to reclaim ye thus, than make
A sheeps-head of you, It had been but your due;
But I have mercy Sir, and mean to reclaim you
By a directer course.
That Woman is not worthy of a Soul
That has the sovereign power to rule her husband,
And gives her title up, so long provided
As there be fair play, and his state not wrong'd.

Enter Shattillion.

Shat. I would be glad to know whence this new Duke springs,
The people buz abroad; or by what title
He receiv'd his dignity, 'tis very strange
There should be such close jugling in the State,
But I am ty'd to silence, yet a day
May come, and soon to perfect all these doubts.
Wife. It is the mad Shattillion by my Soul,
I suffer much for this poor Gentleman;
I'll speak to him, may be he yet knows me.
Monsieur Shattilion.
Shat. Can you give me reason from whence
This great Duke sprang that walks abroad?
Wife. Even from the King himself.
Shot. As you are a Woman, I think you may be cover'd?
Yet your prayer would do no harm good Woman.
Wife. God preserve him.

Enter Shattillions Love.

Shat. I say Amen, and so say all good Subjects.
Love. Lady, as ever you have lov'd, or shall,
As you have hope of heaven lend your hand,
And wit, to draw this poor distracted man
Under your roofe, from the broad eyes of people,
And wonder of the streets.
Wife. With all my heart;
My feeling of his grief and loss is much.
Love. Sir, now you are come so near the prison, will ye
Goe in, and visit your fair Love: poor soul
She would be glad to see you.
Shat. This same Duke is but
Apocryphal, there's no creation
That can stand where titles are not right.
Lov. 'Tis true, Sir.
Shat. That is another draught upon my life;
Let me examine well the words I spake.
The words I spake were, that this novel Duke
Is not o'th' true making, 'tis to me most certain.
Wife. You are as right, Sir, as you went by line.
Shat. And to the grief of many thousands more.
Wife. If there be any such, God comfort them.
Shat. Whose mouths may open when the time shall please;
I'm betray'd, commend me to the King,
And tell him I am sound, and crave but justice;
You shall not need to have your guard upon me,
Which I am sure are plac'd for my attachment;
Lead on; I'm obedient to my bonds.
Lov. Good Sir be not displeased with us;
We are but servants to his Highness will,
To make that good.
Shat. I do forgive you even with my heart;
Shall I entreat a favor?
Wife. Any thing.
Shat. To see my love before that fatal stroak,
And publish to the world my christian death,
And true obedience to the Crown of France.
Lov. I hope it shall not need Sir, for there is mercy
As well as Justice in his Royal heart. [Exeunt.

Enter three Gentlemen.

1 Gent. Every man take his corner, here am I,
You there, and you in that place, so be perfect,
Have a great care your cries be loud; and faces
Full of dejected fear and humbleness.
He comes.

Enter Jaques.

Ja. Fye, how these streets are charg'd and swell'd
With these same rascally people! give more room,
Or I shall have occasion to distribute
A martial almes amongst you; as I am a Gentleman
I have not seen such rude disorder,
They follow him like a prize, there's no true gaper
Like to your Citizen, he will be sure
The Beares shall not pass by his door in peace,
But he and all his family will follow.
Room there afore: Sound:

Enter Duke and his company.

Ja. Give room, and keep your places,
you may see enough; keep your places.
Long. These people are too far unmanner'd, thus
To stop your Graces way with multitudes.
Du. Rebuke them not, good Monsieur, 'tis their loves
Which I will answer, if it please my stars
To spare me life and health.
2 Gen. Bless your Grace.
Du. And you with all my heart.
1 Gen. Now heaven preserve your happy dayes:
Du. I thank you too.
3. Gen. Now Heaven save your Grace;
Du. I thank you all.
Bew. On there before.
Du. Stand Gentlemen, stay yet a while.
For I am minded to impart my love
To these good people, and my friends,
Whose love and prayers for my greatness,
Are equal in abundance, note me well,
And with my words; my heart? for as the Tree—
Long. Your Grace had best beware, 'twill be inform'd
Your greatness with the people.
Duke. I had more,
My honest, and ingenious people.—But
The weight of business hath prevented me.
I am call'd from you: but this tree I spake of
Shall bring forth fruit, I hope, to your content,
And so I share my bowels amongst you all.
Omnes. A noble Duke, a very noble Duke.

Enter a Gentleman.

Ser. Afore there Gentlemen.
Gen. You'r faithfully met good Monsieur Mount Marine.
Ser. Be advis'd, the time is alter'd.
Gen. Is he not the same man he was afore?
Duke. Still the same man to you, Sir.
Long. You have received mighty Grace, be thankful.
Gen. Let me not dye in ignorance;
Long. You shall not.
Then know, the King out of his love, hath pleas'd
To stile him Duke of Burgundy.
Gen. O great Duke,
Thus low, I plead for pardon, and desire
To be enrol'd amongst your poorest slaves.
Du. Sir, you have mercy, and withal my hand,
From henceforth let me call you one of mine.
Ser. Make room afore there, and dismiss the people.
Du. Every Man to his house in peace and quiet.
Peop. Now heaven preserve the Duke, heaven bless the Duke. [Exeunt Omnes.

Enter Wife.

Wife. This Letter came this morn from my Cosin
To the great Lady, high and mighty Duchess
Of Burgundy, be these delivered. Oh,
For a stronger lace to keep my breath
That I may laugh the nine days till the wonder
Fall to an ebb: the high and mighty Duchess?
The high and mighty God? what a stile is this!
Methinks it goes like a Duchy lope-man,
A ladder of 100 rounds will fail
To reach the top on't: well my gentle Cosin
I know by these contents, your itch of honor;
You must to the Court you say, and very shortly:
You shall be welcome; and if your wife have wit
I'll put her in a thriving course, if not
Her own sin on her own head, not a blot
Shall stain my reputation, only this
I must for healths sake sometimes make an ass
Of the tame moil my Husband; 'twill do him good,
And give him fresher brains, Me fresher bloud.
Now for the noble Duke, I hear him coming.

Enter Duke, his train.

Your Grace is well return'd.
Duke. As well as may be:
Never in younger health, never more able:
I mean to be your bed-fellow this night,
Let me have good encounter.
Bew. Bless me heaven
What a hot meat this greatness is!
Long. It may be so,
For I'll be sworn he hath not got a snap
This two months on my knowledge, or her woman
Is damn'd for swearing it.
Duke. I thank you Gentlemen for your attendance
And also your great pains, pray know my Lodgings
Better and oftner, do so Gentlemen.
Now by my honor, as I am a Prince,
I speak sincerely, know my lodgings better,
And be not strangers, I shall see your service
And your deservings, when you least expect.
Om. We humbly thank your grace for this great favor.
Du. Jaques?
Jaq. Your Grace.
Du. Be ready for the Countrey,
And let my Tenants know the Kings great love:
Say I would see them, but the weight at Court
Lies heavy on my shoulders: let them know
I do expect their duties in attendance
Against the next feast, wait for my coming
To take up Post-horse, and be full of speed. [Exit Jaq.
Wife. I would desire your Grace—
Du. You shall desire, and have your
Full desire: sweet Duchess speak.
Wife. To have some conference with a Gentleman
That seems not altogether void of reason.
He talks of Titles, and things near the Crown,
And knowing none so fit as your [good] Grace,
To give the difference in such points of State—
Du. What is he? if he be noble, or have any part
That's worthy our converse, we do accept him.
Wife. I can assure your Grace, his strain is noble,
But he's very subtle.
Duke. Let him be so.
Let him have all the brains, I shall demonstrate
How this most Christian Crown of France can bear
No other shew of Title than the Kings.
I will go in and meditate for half an hour,
And then be ready for him presently,
I will convert him quickly, or confound him.
Serv. Is mad Shattillion here?
Wife. Is here, and's Lady,
I prethee servant fetch him hither.
Serv. Why, what do you mean to put him to?
Wife. To chat with the mad lad my Husband;
'Twill be brave to hear them speak, babble,
Stare, and prate.
Bew. But what shall be the end of all this, Lady?

Enter Shattillion and Lady.

Wife. Leave that to me, now for the grand dispute,
For see, here comes Shattillion: as I live, methinks
All France should bear part of his griefs.
Long. I'll fetch my Lord the Duke.
Shat. Where am I now, or whether will you lead me?
To my death? I crave my priviledge,
I must not dye, but by just course of Law.
Serv. His Majesty hath sent by me your pardon,
He meant not you should dye; but would intreat you
To lay the full state of your Title open,
Unto a grave and Noble Gentleman.

Enter Duke and Longovile.

The Duke of Burgundy who here doth come,
Who, either by his wisdom will confute you,
Or else inform and satisfie the King.
Bew. May't please your grace, this is the Gentleman.
Duke. Is this he that chops Logick with my Liege?
Shat. D'ye mock me? you are great, the time will come,
When you shall be as much contemn'd as I,
Where are the antient compliments of France,
The upstarts brave the Princes of the bloud?
Duke. Your Title Sir, in short.
Shat. He must Sir,
Be a better States-man than your self, that can
Trip me in any thing, I will not speak
Before these witnesses.
Duke. Depart the room, for none shall stay,
No, not my dearest Duchess.
Wife. We'll stand behind the Arras and hear all. [Exeunt.
Duke. In that chair take your place, I in this,
Discourse your Title now.
Shat. Sir, you shall know,
My Loves true Title, mine by Marriage,
Setting aside the first race of French Kings,
Which will not here concern us, as Pharamond,
With Clodian, [Meroveus], and Chilperick,
And to come down unto the second Race,
Which we will likewise slip—
Duke. But take me with you.
Shat. I pray you give me leave, of Martel Charles,
The Father of King Pippin, who was, Sire
To Charles the Great, and famous Charlemain.
And to come to the third Race of French Kings,
Which will not be greatly pertinent in this cause,
Betwixt the King and me, of which you know
HUGH CAPET was the first,
Next his Son Robert, Henry then, and Philip
With Lewis, and his Son a Lewis too,
And of that name the Seventh, but all this
Springs from a Female, as it shall appear.
Duke. Now give me leave, I grant you this your Title
At the first sight, carries some shew of truth;
But if ye weigh it well, ye shall find light.
Is not his Majesty possest in peace,
And justice executed in his name,
And can you think the most Christian King
Would do this if he saw not reason for it?
Shat. But had not the Tenth Lewis a sole Daughter?
Duke. I cannot tell.
Shat. But answer me directly.
Duke. It is a most seditious question.
Shat. Is this your justice?
Duke. I stand for my King.
Shat. Was ever Heir-apparant thus abus'd?
I'll have your head for this.
Duke. Why, do your worst.
Shat. Will no one stir to apprehend this Traitor?
A guard about my person, will none come?
Must my own royal hands perform the deed?
Then thus I do arrest you.
Duke. Treason, help.

Enter Wife, Long. Bew. and Serv.

Wife. Help, help, my Lord and Husband.
Duke. Help [the Duke].
Long. Forbear his grace's person.
Shat. Forbear you to touch him that
Your Heir-apparent weds,
But by this hand, I will have all your heads. [Exit.
Serv. How doth your Grace?
Duke. Why? well.
Serv. How do you find his Title?
Duke. 'Tis a dangerous one,
As can come by a female.
Serv. I, 'tis true,
But the Law Salique cuts him off from all.
Long. I do beseech your Grace, how stands his Title?
Duke. Pew, nothing; the Law Salique cuts him off from all.
Wife. My gracious Husband, you must now prepare,
In all your Graces pomp to entertain
Your Cosin, who is now a convertite,
And follows here, this night he will be here.
Duke. Be ready all in haste, I do intend,
To shew before my Cosin's wondring face,
The greatness of my pomp, and of my place. [Exeunt omnes.

Actus Quartus. [Scæna Prima.]

Enter Cosin and his Wife.

Cos. Sirrah, is all things carried to the Tailor?
The measure, and the fashion of the Gown,
With the best trim?
Man. Yes Sir, and 'twill be ready within this two days.
Cos. For my self I care not,
I have a suit or two of antient Velvet;
Which with some small correcting and addition,
May steal into the presence.
Wife. Would my Gown were [ready; Husband], I'll lay my life,
To make you something e'r to morrow night.
Cos. It must not be
Before we see the Duke, and have advice,
How to behave our selves: lets in the while,
And keep our selves from knowledge, till time shall call us.

Enter Long. and Bew.

Long. I much admire the fierce masculine spirit,
Of this dread Amazon.
Bew. This following night I'll have a wench in solace.
Long. Sir, I hear you,
And will be with you if I live, no more.

Enter Maria.

Ma. My Lady would intreat your presence, Gentlemen.
Bew. We will obey your Lady, she is worthy.
Long. You, light alone, a word, or two.
Ma. Your Will, Sir.
Long. Hark in your ear; wilt thou be married? speak, wilt thou marry?
Ma. Married? to whom Sir?
Long. To a proper fellow, landed, and able bodied.
Ma. Why do you flout me, Sir?
Long. I swear I do not; I love thee for thy Ladies sake, be free?
Ma. If I could meet such matches as you speak of,
I were a very child to lose my time, Sir.
Long. What saist thou to Monsieur Bewford?
Ma. Sir, I say he's a proper Gentleman, and far
Above my means to look at.
Long. Dost thou like him?
Ma. Yes Sir, and ever did.
Long. He is thine own.
Ma. You are too great in promises.
Long. Be rul'd, and follow my advice, he shall be thine.
Ma. Would you would make it good, Sir.
Long. Do but thus,
Get thee a cushion underneath thy cloaths,
And leave the rest to me.
Ma. I'll be your scholar,
I cannot lose much by the venture sure.
Long. Thou wilt lose a pretty maidenhead, my rogue,
Or I am much o'th' bow hand, you'll remember
If all this take effect, who did it for [you,]
And what I may deserve for such a kindness.
Ma. Yours Sir. [Exeunt.

Enter Jaques and Shattillion severally.

Jaq. Save ye Sir.
Shat. Save the King.
Jaq. I pray you Sir, which is the nearest way.
Shat. Save the King, this is the nearest way.
Jaq. Which is the nearest way to the Post-house?
Shat. God save the King and his [Post-house].
Jaq. I pray Sir direct me to the house.
[Shat.] Heaven save the King, you cannot catch me, Sir.
Jaq. I do not understand you, Sir.
Shat. You do not, I say you cannot catch me, Sir.
Jaq. Not catch you, Sir?
Shat. No Sir, nor can the King,
With all his stratagems, and his forced tricks,
Although he put his Nobles in disguise;
Never so oft to sift into my words,
By course of Law, lay hold upon my life.
Jaq. It is business that my Lord the Duke
Is by the King imployed in, and he thinks
I am acquainted with it.
Shat. I shall not need to rip the cause up,
From the first, to you,
But if his Majesty had suffer'd me
To marry her, though she be after him,
The right heir general to the Crown of France.
I would not have convey'd her into Spain,
As it was thought, nor would I e'er have joyn'd,
With the reformed Churches, to make them,
Stand for my cause.
Jaq. I do not think you would.
Shat. I thank you Sir,
And since I see you are a favourer
Of virtues, kept in bondage;
Tell directly to my soveraign King,
For so I will acknowledge him for ever,
How you have found my staid affections
Setled for peace, and for the present state.
Jaq. Why Sir?
Shat. And good Sir, tell him further this,
That notwithstanding all suggestions
Brought to him against me, and all his suspitions,
Which are [innumerable] to my treasons,
If he will warrant me but publique trial,
I'll freely yeild my self into his hands;
Can he have more than this?
Jaq. No by my troth.
Shat. I would his Majesty would hear but reason,
As well as you.
Jaq. But Sir, you do mistake me,
For I never saw the King.
In all my life but once, therefore good Sir,
May it please you to shew me which is the Post-house.
Sha. I cry you mercy, Sir, then [you are] my friend.
Jaq. Yes Sir.
Sha. And such men are very rare with me,
The Post-house is hard by, farewel;
Jaq. I thank you, Sir, I must ride hard to night,
And it is dark already.
Sha. I am cruel, to send this man directly to his death
That is my friend, and I might easily save him,
He shall not dye, come back, my friend, come back.
Jaq. What is your Will?
Sha. Do you not know?
Jaq. Not I.
Sha. And do you gather nothing by my face?
Jaq. No Sir.
Sha. Virtue is ever innocent,
Lay not the fault on me, I grieve for you,
And wish that all my tears might win your safety.
Jaq. Why Sir?
Sha. Alas good friend you are undone,
The more ill fortune, mine to be the means
Of your sad overthrow, you know not me.
Jaq. No truly Sir.
Sha. Would you had never seen me,
I am a man pursu'd by the whole state
And sure some one hath seen me talk with you.
Jaq. Yes, divers Sir.
Sha. Why then your head is gone.
Jaq. I'll out of town.
Sha. Would it were soon enough,
Stay if you love your life, or else you are taken.
Jaq. What shall I do?
Sha. I'll venture deeply for him,
Rather than to cast away an innocent,
Take courage friend, I will preserve thy life,
With hazard of mine own.
Jaq. I thank you, Sir.
Sha. This night thou shalt be lodg'd within my doors,
Which shall be all lock'd fast, and in the morn
I'll so provide, you shall have free access,
To the Sea-side, and so be shipt away,
E'r any know it.
Jaq. Good Sir, suddainly, I am afraid to dye.
Sha. Then follow me. [Exeunt.

Enter Shatillion's Love.

Love. This way he went, and there's the house, I hope,
His better Angel hath directed him,
To leave the wandring streets, poor Gentleman.
Would I were able with as free a heart,
To set his soul right, as I am to grieve,
The ruine of his fame, which God forgive me;
Sir, if you be within, I pray Sir speak to me.
Sha. I am within, and will be; what are you?
Love. A friend.
Sha. No Sir, you must pardon me,
I am acquainted with none such: be speedy,
Friend, there is no other remedy.
Love. A word Sir, I say, I am your friend.
Sha. You cannot scape by any other means,
Be not fearful, God save the King,
What's your business, Sir?
Lov. To speak with you.
Sha. Speak out then.
Lov. Shall I not come up?
Sha. Thou shalt not: flie if thou be'st thine own friend,
There lies the suit and all the furniture
Belonging to the head, on with it friend.
Lov. Sir do you hear?
Sha. I do, God bless the King,
It was a habit I had laid aside,
For my own person, if the state had forced me.
Love. Good Sir, unlock your door.
Sha. Be full of speed, I see some 20 Musquetiers in ambush
Whate'r thou art, know I am here and will be,
Seest thou this bloody sword that cries revenge?
Shake not my friend, through millions of these foes
I'll be thy guard, and set thee safe aboard.
Lov. Dare you not trust me, Sir?
Sha. My good [sword] before me,
And my allegeance to the King I tell thee
Captain (for so I ghess thee by thy Arms)
And the loose flanks of Halberdiers about thee,
Thou art too weak, and foolish to attempt me.
If you be ready, follow me, and hark you
Upon your life speak to no living wight,
Except my self.
Love. Monsieur Shattillion?
Sha. Thou shalt not call agen; thus with my sword,
And the strong faith I bear unto the King;
Whom God preserve, I will [de[sc]end] my chamber,
And cut thy throat, I swear I'll cut thy throat,
Steal after me and live.
Love. I will not stay.
The fury of a man so far distracted. [Exit Love.

Enter Shattillion.

Where's the Officer that dares not enter,
To intrap the life of my distressed friend?
I, have you hid your self? you must be found,
What do you fear? is not authority on your side
Nay, I know the Kings command
Will be your warrant, why then fear you? speak
What strange designs are these? Shattillion,
Be resolute and bear thy self upright,
Though the whole world despise thee: soft, methinks.
I heard a rushing which was like the shake
Of a discovered Officer, I'll search
The whole street over, but I'll find thee out. [Exit.

Enter Jaques in womans apparel.

Jaq. How my joynts do shake, where had I been
But for this worthy Gentleman, that
Hath some touch of my infortunes; would I were
Safe under hatches once, for Callicut,
Farewel the pomp of Court, I never more
Can hope to be a Duke or any thing,
I never more shall [see the] glorious face
Of my fair spreading Lord that lov'd me well.

Enter Shattillion.

Shat. Fly you so fast? I had a sight of you,
But would not follow you; I was too wise,
You shall not lead me with a cunning trick;
Where you may catch me; poor Shattillion;
Hath the Kings anger left thee never a friend?
No, all mens loves move by the breath of Kings.
Jaq. It is the Gentleman that sav'd my life, Sir.
Shat. Bless Shattillion, another plot.
Jaq. No Sir, 'tis I.
Shat. Why, who are you?
Jaq. Your friend whom you preserv'd.
Shat. Whom I preserv'd?
My friend? I have no woman friend but one,
Who is too close in prison to be here;
Come near, let me look on you.
Jaq. 'Tis I.
Shat. You should not be a woman by your stature.
Jaq. I am none, Sir.
Shat. I know it, then keep off,
Strange men and times! how I am still preserv'd!
Here they have sent a yeoman of the guard,
Disguis'd in womans clothes, to work on me,
To make love to me; and to trap my words,
And so insnare my life, I know you, Sir,
Stand back, upon your peril, can this be
In Christian Common-weals, from this time forth
I'll cut off all the means to work on me,
I'll ne'er stir from my house: and keep my doors
Lockt day and night, and cheapen meat and drink
At the next shops by Signs, out of my window,
And having bought it, draw it up in my garters.
Jaq. Sir, will you help me?
Shat. Do not follow me,
I'll take a course to live, despight of men. [Exit Shat.
Jaq. He dares not venture for me, wretched Jaques!
Thou art undone for ever and for ever,
Never to rise again? what shall I do?

Enter Bewfort.

Where shall I hide me? here's one to take me,
I must stand close, and not speak for my life.
Bew. This is the time of night, and this the haunt,
In which I use to catch my Wastcoatiers,
It is not very dark, no, I shall spie 'em,
I have walk't out in such a pitchy night.
I could not see my fingers this far off,
And yet have brought home venison by the smell,
I hope they have not left their old walk, ah?
Have I spied you sitting by this light?
To me there's no such fine sight in the world,
As a white apron 'twixt twelve and one;
See how it glisters! do you think to scape?
See now I have you fast; come, and do not strive,
It takes away the edge of appetite;
Come, I'll be liberal every way.
Take heed you make no noise, for waking of the Watch. [Exeunt.

Enter Cosin and his Wife.

Cos. Now the blessing of some happy guide,
To bring us to the Duke, and we are ready.

Enter Long. and Servant.

Come forward, see the door is open'd,
And two of his Gent. I'll speak to them,
And mark how I behave my self, God save ye;
For less I cannot wish to men of sort, and of your seeming:
Are you of the Dukes?
Long. We are, Sir, and your servants, your salutes,
We give you back again with many thanks.
Cos. When did you hear such words before Wife? peace,
Do you not dare to answer yet; is't fit
So mean a Gentleman as my self should crave,
The presence of the great Duke your Master?
Serv. Sir you may.
Long. Shall we desire your name, and business, Sir?
And we will presently inform him of you.
Cos. My name is Cleremont.
Serv. You are his Graces kinsman,
Or I am much mistaken?
Cos. You are right,
Some of his noble bloud runs through these veins,
Though far unworthy of his graces knowledge.
Long. Sir, we must all be yours; his graces kinsman,
And we so much forgetful? 'twas a rudeness,
And must attend your pardon, thus I crave it:
First to this beauteous Lady, whom I take
To be your Wife, Sir, next your mercy.
Cos. You have it, Sir, I do not like this kissing,
It lies so open to a world of wishes.
Serv. This is the merry fellow; this is he
That must be noble too.
Long. And so he shall.
If all the Art I have can make him noble,
I'll dub him with a Knight-hood; if his wife
Will be but forward, and joyn issue,
I like her above excellent.
Serv. Wil't please you
To walk a turn or two, whilst to the Duke
We make your comming known? [Exit Serv. and Long.
Cos. I shall attend, Sir.
Wife. These Gentlemen are very proper men,
And kiss the best that e'er I tasted.
For goodness-sake husband, let us never more
Come near the Countrey, whatsoe'er betide us;
I am in malice with the memory
Of that same stinking dung-hil.
Cos. Why now you are my chicken and my dear,
Love where I love, hate where I hate: now
You shall have twenty Gowns, and twenty Chains,
See, the door is opening.
Groom. Room afore there, the Duke is entring.

Enter Duke, Wife, Long. Servant, Maria.

Cos. 'Tis the Duke, even he himself, be merry,
This is the golden age the Poet speaks on.
Wife. I pray it be not brazen'd by their faces,
And yet methinks they are the neatest Pieces
For shape, and cutting that e'er I beheld.
Cos. Most gracious Duke, my poor Spouse and my self,
Do kiss your mighty foot, and next to that
The great hand of your Dutchess, ever wishing
Your honors ever springing, and your years.
Duke. Cosin?
Cos. Your Graces vassal, far unworthy
The nearness of your blood.
Duke. Correct me not, I know the word I speak,
And know the person.
Though I be something higher than the place
Where common men have motion, and descending
Down with my eye, their forms are lessened to me;
Yet from this pitch can I behold my own,
From millions of those men that have no mark,
And in my fearful stoop, can make them stand,
When others feel [my feet], and perish: Cosin,
Be comforted, you are very welcome, so
Is your fair Wife: the charge of whom I give
To my own dearest, and best beloved.
Tell me, you have resolv'd your self for Court,
And utterly renounc'd the slavish Countrey,
With all the cares thereof?
Cos. I have, Sir.
Duke. Have you dismist your eating houshold,
Sold your hangings of Nebuchadnezar, for such they were,
As I remember, with the Furnitures
Belonging to your Beds and Chambers?
Cos. I Sir.
Duke. Have you most carefully ta'en off the Lead,
From [you[r] roof, weak with age, and so prevented
The ruin of your house, and clapt him
In a summer suit of thatch to keep him cool?
Cos. All this I have perform'd.
Duke. Then lend me all your hands, I will embrace my Cosin
Who is an understanding Gentleman,
And with a zeal mighty, as is my name,
Once more I bid you welcome to the Court;
My state again.
Duch. As I was telling you, your Husband
Must be no more Commander, look to that,
Be several at meat, and lodging, let him have
Board-wages, and Diet, 'mongst his men i'th' Town
For pleasure, if he be given to't, let him have it,
Else as your own fancy shall direct you.
Cosin, you see this mighty man here: he was an ass
When he came first to Town: indeed he was
Just such another coxcomb as your Husband,
God bless the mark, and every good mans child!
This must not stir you Cosin.
Wif. Heaven forbid!
Long. Sweet Maria; provide the cushion ready for it.
Mar. It shall be done.
Duke. Receive all your advices from our self,
Be once a day with us, and so farewel
For this time, my fair Cosin, Gentlemen
Conduct him to his Lodging.
Duch. Farewel, and think upon my words.
Wife. I shall observe them. [Exit Duke and Duchess.
Cos. Health, and the Kings continual love, attend you.
Serv. Oh for a private place to ease my Lungs!
Heaven give me patience, such a pair of jades
Were never better ridden to this hour,
Pray heaven they hold out to the journeys end.
Long. Twitch him aside good Monsieur, whilst I break
Upon the body of his strength, his wife,
I have a constant promise: she is my own.
Serv. Ply her to wind-ward Monsieur, you have taken
The most compendious way to raise your self,
That could have been delivered by a Counsel.
Cos. I have some certain aims, Sir: but my wife—
Serv. Your wife, you must not let that trouble you.
Cos. It will Sir, to see her in a strangers arms.
Serv. What mean you? let her alone, be wise, stir not a foot
For if you do, all your hopes are buried:
I swear you are a lost man if you stir.
Cos. I thank you Sir, I will be more advis'd.
Serv. But what great Office do you level at?
Cos. Sir, they are kissing.
Serv. Let them kiss,
And much may do their good hearts; they must kiss
And kiss, and double kiss, and kiss again,
Or you may kiss the post for any rising:
Had your noble kinsman ever mounted
To these high Spheres of honor, now he moves in,
But for the kisses of his wife?
Cos. I know not.
Serv. Then I do; credit me, he had been lost,
A fellow of no mark, and no repute.
Had not his wife kist soon, and very sweetly:
She was an excellent woman, and dispatcht him
To his [full being, in] a moment, Sir— [Exit Long. and Wife.
Cos. But yet methinks he [sh]ould] not take her, Sir,
Into a private room.
Serv. Now stand and flourish,
You are a [mad[e] man for ever.
I do envy you if you stand your fortunes up,
You are the happiest man, but your great Cosin,
This day in Court: well, I will marry surely,
And not let every man out-run me thus.
'Tis time to be mine own friend, I live
In town here, and direct the readiest way,
To other men, and be a slave my self.
Cos. Nay, good Sir be not mov'd, I am your servant,
And will not be ungrateful for this knowledge.
Serv. Will you be walking home?
Cos. I would desire to have my wife along.
Serv. You are too raw,
Begone, and take no notice where you left her,
Let her return at [leasure,] if she stay
A month, 'twill be the better, understand me
This Gentleman can do't. [Exit Cosin.
Cos. I will Sir, and wife remember me, a Duke, a Duke wife.
Serv. Aboard her Longaveile, she's thine own,
To me the fooling of this fool is venery. [Exit Servant.

Enter Bewford and Jaques.

Bew. Come, prethee come, have I not crowns? behold
And follow me, here; not a word, go in
Grope by the walls, and you shall find a bed,
Lie down there, see, see, a turn or two, to give
My blood some heats, and I am presently
For action: darkness, by thy leave, I come. [Exit Bew.

Enter Maria.

Ma. I am perfect in my lesson, be my speed,
Thou god of marriage, this is the door, I'll knock.
Bew. within. Whose there, I cannot come yet.
Ma. Monsieur Bewford?
Bew. Stay till I light a candle, who are ye?
Ma. Sir? a poor Gentlewoman.

Enter Bewford.

Bew. Oh come in, I'll find a time for you too, be not loud.
Ma. Sir, you have found that time already, shame
On my soul therefore.
Bew. Why? what's the matter?
Ma. Do you not see, Sir, is your light so dim?
Bew. Do you not wait on the Lady Mount Marine?
Ma. I do Sir, but my love on you.
Bew. Poor soul! how cam'st thou by this big belly?
Ma. By your self.
Bew. By heaven I ne'er touch'd your body.
Ma. Yes, unswear that oath again, I'll tell you all;
These two years I have lov'd you, but the means
How to enjoy you, I did never know
Till Twelf-night last, when hearing of your game
To take up wenches private in the night,
I apprehended straight this course to make
My self as one of them, and wait your coming;
I did so, and enjoyed you, and now this child
That now is quick within me, hide my shame,
And marry me, or else I must be forc'd—
Long. within. Monsieur Bewford, Monsieur Bewford.
Bew. Whose that calls?
Long. Are you a bed?
Bew. No Sir, the hangings.

Enter Longaveil.

Long. Nay Monsieur, I'll forbid that, we'll have fair play,
Lend me your candle, are you taken Bewford?
A lecher of your practice, and close carriage
To be discovered thus? I am asham'd
So great a master in his art should fail,
And stagger in his grounds.
Bew. You're wide,
This woman and my self are man and wife,
And have been so this half year,
Where are you now? have I been discover'd?
You cannot break so easily on me, Sir,
I am too wary to be open'd by you.
Long. But these are but illusions, to give colour
To your most mystick leachery, but Sir,
The belly hath betraid you all, it must out.
Bew. Good Longaveil believe me on my faith,
I am her husband.
Long. On my faith I cannot, unless I saw
Your hands fast, and your hearts.
Bew. Why Longavile, when did I give that to your ears,
That was not truth? by all the world she's mine,
She is my wife, and to confirm you better
I give my self again, here take my hand
And I yours, we are once more married,
Will this content you?
Long. Yes I am believing, and God give you joy.
Bew. My loving wife, I will not wrong thee,
Since I am thine and only loved of thee
From this hour I vow my self a new man,
Be not jealous: for though I had a purpose,
To have spent an hour or two in solace otherwise,
And was provided for it, yet my love
Shall put a better temper to my blood,
Come out thou woman of unwholsome life,
Be sorry for thy sins, and learn to mend,
Nay, never hide your face, you shall be seen.
Long. Jaques, why Jaques, art thou that Jaques,
The very staffe, and right hand of our Duke?
Speak, thou bearded Venus.
Jaq. I am he, by miracle preserv'd to be that Jaques,
Within this two hours Gentlemen, poor Jaques
Was but as coarse in grave: a man of wisdom,
That of my conscience, if he had his right
Should have a pretty State, but that's all one
That Noble Gentleman did save this life,
I keep it for him, 'tis his own.
Long. Oh Bacchus! is all the world drunk? come we'll to the Duke
And give thanks for this delivery.

Actus Quintus. [Scæna Prima.]

Enter Duke and Jaques.

Duke. Not gone unto my Tenants to relate
My Grace and Honor; [and] the mightiness
Of my new name, which would have struck a terror
Through their course doublets, to their very hearts?
Jaq. Alas, great Lord and Master, I could scarce
With safety of my life return again
Unto your graces house, and but for one
That had some mercy, I had sure been hang'd.
Duke. My house?
[J[a]q.] Yes Sir, this house, your house i' th' Town.
Duke. Jaques we are displeas'd, hath it no name?
Jaq. What name?
Duke. Dull rogue; what hath the King bestow'd
So many honors, open'd all his springs,
And show'red his graces down upon my head,
And has my house no name? no title yet?
Burgundy house you ass.
Jaq. Your graces mercy,
when I was come off, and had recover'd
Burgundy house, I durst not yet be seen,
But lay all night for fear of pursevants
In Burgundy privie house.
Duke. Oh Sir, 'tis well,
Can you remember now? but Jaques know
Since thy intended journey is so crost,
I will go down my self this morning.
Jaq. Sir?
Duke. Have I not said this morning?
Jaq. But consider,
That nothing is prepared yet for your journey,
Your graces teams not here to draw your cloaths;
And not a Carrier yet in town to send by.
Duke. I say once more go about it,
You're a wise man, you'd have me linger time,
Till I have worn these cloaths out: will ye go? [Ex. Jaq.
Make ye ready Wife.

Enter Wife.

Duc. I am so, mighty Duke.
Duke. Nay, for the Countrey.
Duc. How? for the Countrey?
Duke. Yes I am resolv'd to see my Tenants in this bravery,
Make them a sumptuous feast, with a slight shew,
Of Dives and Lazarus, and a squib or two,
And so return.
Duc. Why Sir? you are not mad?
Duke. How many Dukes have ye known mad? I pray speak.
Duc. You are the first, Sir, and I hope the last,
But you are stark horn-mad.
Duke. Forbear good wife.
Duc. As I have faith you're mad: your horns
Have been too heavy for you, and have broke
Your skull in pieces: If you be in earnest.
Duke. Well, you shall know my skull and wits are whole
E'r I have done, and yet I am in earnest.
Duc. Why, do you think I'll go?
Duke. I know you shall.
Duc. I shall? by what authority shall I?
Duke. I am your Husband.
Duc. True, I confess it,
And by that name, the world hath given you
A power to sway me; but Sir, you shall know
There is a greater bond that ties me here,
Allegeance to the King, has he not heapt
Those honors on you to no other end,
But to stay you here, and shall I have a hand
In the offending such a gracious Prince?
Besides, our own undoings lies upon't,
Were there no other cause, I do not see,
Why you should go: If I should say you should not.
Duke. Do you think so?
Duc. Yes faith.
Duke. Now good wife make me understand that point.
Duc. Why that you shall, did I not bring you hither?
Duke. Yes.
Duc. And were not all [these] honors wrought out of the fire by me?
Duke. By you?
Duc. By me? how strange you make it!
When you came first, did you not walk the Town,
In a long Cloak half compass? an old Hat,
Lin'd with Vellure, and on it for a band,
A skein of crimson Cruil?
Duke. I confess it.
Duc. And took base courses?
Duke. Base?
Duc. Base, by this light, extream base, and scurvie, monstrous base.
[Du[k]e.] What were these courses, wife?
Duc. Why, you shall know,
Did you not thus attir'd, trot up and down,
Plotting for vild and lowsie Offices,
And agreed with the Sergeant of the Bears,
To buy his place? deny this, if you can.
Duke. Why it is true.
Duc. And was not that monstrous base?
Duke. Be advis'd wife, a Bear's a Princely beast.
Duc. A Bear?
Duke. Yes wife, and one side venison.
Duc. You're more than one side fool, [I'm] sure of that.
Duke. But since you have vext me wife, know you shall go;
[Or you shall never] have penny from me.
Duc. Nay, I have done, and though I know 'twill be
Your overthrow, I'll not forsake you now.
Duke. Be ready then. [Exit Duke.
Duc. I will.

Enter Bewf. Long. Serv. Maria.

Long. What are you married Bewford?
Bew. I, as fast as words, and hearts, and hands, and Priest can make us.
Duc. Oh Gentlemen, we are undone.
Long. For what?
Duc. This Gentleman, the Lord of [Lor[n]e], my Husband,
Will be gone down to shew his play-fellows
Where he is gay.
Bew. What, down into [the] Countrey?
Duc. Yes faith, was ever fool but he so cross?
I would as fain be gracious to him,
As he could wish me, but he will not let me;
Speak faithfully, will he deserve my mercy?
Long. According to his merits he should wear,
A guarded coat, and a great wooden dagger.
Duc. If there be any woman that doth know,
The duties 'twixt a Husband and his wife,
Will speak but one word for him, he shall scape;
Is not that reasonable? but there's none,
Be ready therefore, to pursue the plot
We had against a pinch, for he must stay.
Long. Wait you here for him, whilst I goe
And make the King acquainted with your sport,
For fear he be incens'd for our attempting
Places of so great honor. [Exit Long.
Duc. Go, be speedy.

Enter Duke, Cosin, Wife, Jaques, Man.

Duke. Come let me see how all things are dispos'd of.
Jaq. One Cart will serve for all your furniture,
With room enough behind to ease the Footman,
A capcase for [you[r] linnen, and your plate,
With a strange lock that opens with Amen,
For my young Lord, because of easie portage,
A quiver of your graces lin'd with Cunney,
Made to be hang'd about the Nurses neck,
Thus, with a Scarfe or Towel.
Duke. Very good.
Jaq. Nay, 'tis well, but had you staid another week,
I would have had [you furnisht, in] such pomp,
As never Duke of Burgundy was furnisht,
You should have had a Sumpter, though 't had cost me
The laying on my self, where now you are fain,
To hire a Rippers mare, and buy new dossers,
But I have got them painted with your Arms,
With a fair darnex Carpet of my own
Laid cross for the more state.
Duke. Jaques I thank you: your Carpet shall be brusht
And sent you home; what, are you ready wife?
Duc. An hour ago.
Duke. I cannot chuse but kiss thy royal Lips,
Dear Duchess mine, thou art so good a woman.
Bew. Youl'd say so if you knew all, goodman Duckling.
Cos. This was the happiest fortune could befal me
Now in his absence will I follow close
Mine own preferment, and I hope e'r long,
To make my mean and humble name so strong,
As my great Cosins, when the world shall know,
I bear too hot a spirit to live low.
The next Spring will I down, my wife and houshold,
I'll have my Ushers, and my four Lacquies,
Six spare Caroches too, but mum, no more,
What I intend to do, I'll keep in store.
Duke. Mountey, mountey, Jaques, be our Querry.
Groom. To horse there Gentlemen, and fall in couples.
Duke. Come honoured Duchess.

Enter Longavile.

Long. Stand thou proud man.
Duke. Thieves, Jaques, raise the people.
Long. No, raise no people, 'tis the Kings command,
Which bids thee once more stand, thou haughty man,
Thou art a monster, for thou art ungrateful,
And like a fellow of a rebel nature,
Hast flung from his embraces: and for
His honors given thee, hast not return'd
So much as thanks, and to oppose his Will,
Resolv'd to leave the Court, and set the Realm
A fire, in discontent, and open action:
Therefore he bids thee stand, thou proud man,
Whilst with the whisking of my sword about,
I take thy honors off: this first sad whisk
Takes off thy Dukedom, thou art but an Earl.
Duke. You are mistaken, Longavile.
Long. Oh would I were: this second whisk divides
Thy Earldom from thee, thou art yet a Baron.
Duke. No more whisks if you love me Longavile.
Long. Two whisks are past, and two are yet behind,
Yet all must come, but not to linger time.
With these two whisks I end, now mount Marine,
For thou art now no more, so says the King,
And I have done his Highness Will with grief.
Duke. [Degraded] from my honors?
Long. 'Tis too certain.
Duke. I am no Traitor sure, that I know of;
Speak Jaques, hast thou ever heard me utter word
Tending to Treason, or to bring in the enemy?
Jaq. Alas Sir, I know nothing,
Why should your Worship bring me in to hang me?
[God's my judge Gentlemen] I never medled
But with the brushing of his cloaths, or fetching
In water in a morning for his hands.
Cos. Are these the honors of this place? Anthony
Help me to take her Gown off quickly,
Or I'll so swinge ye for't—
Wife. Why Husband? Sir?
Cos. I'll not loose a penny by this town.
Long. Why what do you mean, Sir, have her to her lodging,
And there undress her, I will wait upon her.
Cos. Indeed you shall not, your month is out I take it,
Get you out before me wife:
Cosin farewel, I told you long agoe,
That pride begins with pleasure, ends with woe. [Exit with's Wife.
Bew. Goe thy way sentences, 'twill be thy fortune,
To live and dye a Cuckold, and Churchwarden.
Duc. Oh my poor Husband! what a heavy fortune
Is fallen upon him!
Bew. Methinks 'tis strange,
That heaven fore-warning great men of their falls,
With such plain tokens, they should not avoid ['em:]
For the last night betwixt eleven and twelve,
Two great and hideous blazing stars were seen
To fight a long hour by the clock, the one
Drest like a Duke, the other like a King;
Till at the last the crowned Star o'er-came.
Serv. Why do ye stand so dead, Monsieur Marine?
Duke. So Cæsar fell, when in the Capitol
They gave his body two and thirty wounds.
Be warned all ye Peers, and by my fall,
Hereafter learn to let your wives rule all.
Serv. Monsieur Marine, pray let me speak with you;
Sir, I must wave you to conceal this party,
It stands upon my utter overthrow;
Seem not discontented, nor do not stir afoot,
For if you do, you and your hope—
I swear you are a lost man if you stir.
And have an eye to Bewford, he'll tempt you.
Bew. Come, come, for shame go down;
Were I Marine, [by heaven] I would go down:
And being there, I would rattle him such an answer
Should make him smoke.
Duke. Good Monsieur Bewford, peace
Leave these rebellious words,
Or by the honors which I once enjoyed,
And yet may swear by,
I'll tell the King of your proceedings;
I am satisfied.
Wife. You talkt of going down when 'twas not fit,
But now let's see your spirit,
A thousand and a thousand will expect it.
Duke. Why wife, are ye mad?
Wife. No, nor drunk, but I'd have you know your own strength.
Duke. You talke like a most foolish woman, wife;
I tell you I will stay, yet I have a
Crotchet troubles me.
Long. More crotchets yet?
Duke. Follow me Jaques, I must have thy counsel,
I will return again, stay you there wife.
Long. I fear this loss of honor will give him some few stools.
Wif. No, no, he is resolv'd, he will not
Stir a foot, I'll lay my life.
Bew. I, but he's discontented, how shall we resolve that,
And make him stay with comfort?
Wife. Faith Bewford we must even let nature work,
For he's the sweetest temper'd man for that
As one can wish, for let men but go about to fool him,
And he'll have his finger as deep in't as the best;
But see where he comes frowning, bless us all!

Enter Duke.

Duke. Off with your hats, for here doth come
The high and mighty Duke of Burgundy.
What ever you may think, I have thought
And thought, and thought upon't, and I find it plain,
The King cannot take back what he has given,
Unless I forfeit it by course of Law.
Not all the water in the River Seine,
Can wash the blood out of these Princely veins.
Wife. God-a-mercy Husband, thou art the best
To work out a thing at a pinch in France.
Duke. I will ascend my State again,
Duchess, take your place,
And let our Champion enter.
Long. Has he his Champion? that's excellent.
Duke. And let loud Musick sound before his entrance.
Sound Trumpet.

Enter Jaques in Armor, one carrying a Scutcheon before him, and a two-handed Sword.

Wife. How well our Champion doth demean himself,
As if he had been made for such an action?
Methinks his sturdy truncheon he doth weild,
Like Mars approaching to a bloody field.
Duke. I think there's no man so desperate
To dare encounter with our Champion,
But trust me, Jaques, thou hast pleas'd us well;
Once more our warlike Musick, then proceed.

Enter Shattillion.

Shat. What wondrous age is this! what close proceedings!
I hear the clang of Trumpets in this house,
To what intent do not our States-men search?
Oh no, they look not into simple truth;
For I am true, and they regard not me,
A man in Armor too: God save the King,
The world will end, there's nought but treachery.
Jaq. I Jaques, servant to the high and mighty Godfrey,
Duke of Burgundy, do come hither to prove by natural
strength, and activity of my body, without the help of sorcery,
inchantment, or negromancy, that the said Godfrey,
late of Mount Marine, and now of Burgundy, hath perfect
right thereto, notwithstanding the Kings command to the
contrary, and no other person whatsoever: and in token
that I will be ready to make good the same: I throw down
my gage, which is my honor, pronounced the 37 of Feb.
Stilo novo, God save the Duke.
Shat. Of all the plots the King hath laid for me
This was the shrewdest, 'tis my life they seek
And they shall have it: if I should refuse
To accept the challenge in the Kings behalf,
They have some cause to take away my life,
And if I do accept it, who can tell,
But I may fall by doubtful chance of War?
'Twas shrew'd, but I must take the least of evils,
I take thy gauntlet up, thou treacherous man,
That stands in armed Coat against the King.
Whom God preserve, and with my single sword,
Will justifie whatever he commands;
I'll watch him for catching of my words.
Duke. Jaques go on, defend our Princely Title.
Shat. Why shrink'st thou back? thou hast an evil cause;
Come forward man, I have a rock about me,
I fight for my true Liege.
Duke. Go forward Jaques.
Jaq. I do beseech your Grace to pardon me,
I will not fight with him, with any else
I'll shew my resolution speedily.
Shat. Come, do thy worst, for the King shall see
All is not true, that is reported of me.
Jaq. I may not fight with him by Law of Arms.
Duke. What? shall my Title fall? wilt thou not fight?
Jaq. Never with him that once hath sav'd my life.
Shat. Dar'st thou not fight? behold then, I do go
Strong with the zeal I bear my Sovereign,
And seize upon that haughty man himself.
Descend the steps (that thou hast thus usurp'd
Against the King and State,) down to the ground,
And if thou do utter but a syllable
To cross the Kings intent, thou art but dead;
There, lye upon the earth, and pine, and dye.
Did ever any man wade through such storms
To save his life, as poor Shattillion?
Long. I fear this challenge hath spoil'd all.
Duc. Ne'er fear it, he'll work it out again, servant.
See where Shattillion's Love, poor Lady, comes.

Enter Love.

Duke. Jaques.
Jaq. Lie still, Sir, if you love your life, I'll whistle when he's gone,
Love. Oh Gentlemen, I charge you by the Love
Which you bear to women, take some pitty
On this distressed man, help to restore
That precious Jewel to him he hath lost.
Bew. Lady, what ever power doth lie in us
By Art, or Prayer, or danger, we are yours.
Love. A strange conceit hath wrought this malady,
Conceits again must bring him to himself,
My strict denial to his Will wrought this:
And if you could but draw his wilder thoughts
To know me, he would sure recover sense.
Long. That charge I'll undertake.
Duke. Look Jaques, look, for Gods sake let me rise,
This greatness is a jade, I cannot sit it.
Jaq. His sword is up, and yet he watcheth you.
Du. I'll down again, pray for thy Master, Jaques.
Shat. Now the King may see all the suggestions are not true,
He hath receiv'd against my loyalty;
When all men else refuse, I fight his battels,
And thrust my body into dangers mouth;
I am become his Champion, and this sword
Has taught his enemies to know themselves;
Oh that he would no more be jealous of me!
Long. Monsieur Shattillion, the King [ass[ign]s] you,
That for this valiant loyal act of yours,
He hath forgot all jealousies and fears,
And never more will tempt you into danger.
Shat. But how shall I believe this, what new token
Of reconcilement will he shew me?
Let him release my poor Love from her torment,
From her hard fare, and strict imprisonment.
Long. He hath done this to win your after-love,
And see your Lady sent you from the King
By these two Gentlemen: be thankful for her.
Shat. She lives, she lives, I know her by the power
Shoots from her eyes.
Love. Rise dear Shattillion.
Shat. I know my duty,
Next unto my King, I am to kneel to you.
Love. I'll have you rise, fetch me a chair, sit down Shat.
Shat. I am commanded, and faith tell me Mistriss,
What usage have you had? pray be plain!
Love. Oh my most lov'd Shattillion, pain enough,
But now I am free, thanks to my God and King.
Long. His eyes grow very heavy, not a word,
That his weak senses may come sweetly home.
Shat. The King is honourable.
Duke. When do you whistle Jaques?
Jaq. By and by.
Long. Come hither Monsieur, canst thou laugh a little?
Serv. Yes Sir.
Long. So thou shalt then. Bewford, how dost thou?
Bew. Why well.
Long. I'm glad on't, and how does thy wife?
Bew. Why, you may see her, Sir, she stands behind you.
Long. By the mass she's there indeed, but where's her belly?
Bew. Belly?
Long. Her great belly, man; what hast thou sent thee?
Serv. A Boy, I'll lay my life, it tumbled so.
Bew. Catcht by this light.
Long. I'll be a Gossip Bewford.
Serv. And I.
Long. I have an odd Apostle spoon.
Bew. S'foot, catcht.
Duc. Why, what's the matter, Gentlemen?
Long. He's married to your woman.
Duc. And I not know it?
Serv. 'Twas a venial sin.
Bew. Gall, gall, gall.
Duc. Forgive her, Monsieur Bewford, 'twas her love.
Bew. You may rise if you please, I must endure it.
Long. See how my great Lord lies upon the ground
And dare not stir yet!
Jaques whistles?
Duke. Jaques, Jaques, is the Kings Champion gon yet?
Jaq. No, but he's asleep.
Duke. Is he asleep art sure?
Jaq. I am sure he is, I hear him snore.
Duke. Then by your favours Gentlemen I rise,
And know I am a Duke still.
Jaq. And I am his Champion.
Duc. Hold thee there, and all France cannot mend thee.
Duke. I am a Prince as great within my thoughts
As when the whole state did adorn my person;
What trial can be made to try a Prince?
I will [o]ppose] this noble corps of mine
To any danger that may end the doubt.
Duc. Great Duke, and Husband, there is but one way
To satisfie the world of our true right,
And it is dangerous.
Duke. What may it be?
Were it to bring the great Turk bound in chains
Through France in triumph: or to couple up
The Sophie, and great Prestor John together,
I would attempt it Duchess, tell the course.
Duc. There is a strong opinion through the world,
And no doubt, grounded on experience,
That Lions will not touch a lawful Prince,
If you be confident then of your right,
Amongst the Lions bear your naked body,
And if you come off clear, and never winch,
The world will say you are a perfect Prince.
Duke. I thank you Duchess, for your kind advice,
But now we do not affect those ravenous beasts.
Long. A Lion is a beast to try a King;
But for the trial of such a state like this
Pliny reports a mastive dog will serve.
Duke. We will not deal with dogs at all, but men.
Serv. You shall not need to deal with them at all,
Hark you Sir, the King doth know you are a Duke:
Duke. No, does he?
Serv. Yes, and is content you shall be, but with this caution,
That none know it but your self:
For if ye do, he'll take it away by Act of Parliament.
Duke. Here's my hand, and whilst I live or breath,
No living wight shall know I am a Duke.
Serv. Mark me directly, Sir, your wife may know it.
Duke. May not Jaques.
Serv. Yes, he may.
Duke. May not my Countrey Cosin?
Serv. By no means, Sir, if you love your life and state.
Duke. Well then, know all, I am no Duke.
Serv. No, I'll swear it.
Long. See, he wakes.
Shat. Where am I, or where have I been all this while?
Sleep hath not sate so sound upon mine eyes
But I remember well that face;
Oh thou too cruel, leave at length to scorn
Him that but looking on thy beauty, dies,
Either receive me, or put out my eyes.
Love. Dearest Shattillion, see upon my knees,
I offer up my love, forget my wrongs.
Shat. Art thou mine own?
Love. By heaven I am.
Shat. Then all the world is mine.
Love. I have stranger things to tell thee, my dearest love.
Shat. Tell nothing, but that thou art mine own:
I do not care to know where I have been,
Or how I have liv'd, or any thing,
But that thou art my own.
Bew. Well wife, though 'twere a trick that made us wed,
We'll make our selves merry soon in bed.
Duke. Know all, I am no Duke.
Wife. What [saye]?]
Duke. Jaques?
Jaq. Sir.
Duke. I am a Duke.
Both. Are ye?
Duke. Yes faith, yes faith.
But it must only run among our selves,
And Jaques, thou shalt be my Secretary still.
Wife. Kind Gentlemen, lead in Shattillion,
For he must needs be weak and sickly yet.
Now all my labours have a perfect end, as I could wish,
Let all young sprightly wives that have
Dull foolish coxcombs to their Husbands,
Learn by me their duties, what to do,
Which is, to make 'em fools, and please 'em too. [Exeunt.

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