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

by Francis Beaumont; John Fletcher

EPILOGUE.

Our Poet bid us say for his own part,
He cannot lay too much forth of his Art:
But fears our over-acting passions may,
As not adorn, deface his labour'd Play,
Yet still he's resolute, for what is writ
Of Nicer valour, and assumes the wit:
But for the Love-Scænes which he ever meant,
Cupid in's Peticoat should represent,
He'll stand no shock of censure; the Play's good,
He says he knows it, (if well understood.)
But we (blind god) beg, if thou art Divine,
Thou'lt shoot thy Arrows round, this Play was thine.

---

Mr. Francis Beaumonts Letter to Ben. Johnson, written before he and Mr. Fletcher came to London, with two of the precedent Comedies then not finish'd, which deferr'd their merry meetings at the Mermaid.

The Sun which doth the greatest comfort bring
To absent friends, because the self-same thing
They know they see however absent, is,
Here our best Hay-make[r] forgive me this,
It is our Countreys stile. In this warm shine,
I l[y]e and dream of your full Mermaid Wine.
Oh we have water mixt with Claret Lees,
Drink apt to bring in dryer Heresies
Than Beer, good only for the Sonnets strain,
With fustian Metaphors to stuff the brain,
So mixt, that given to the thirstiest one,
'Twill not prove Alms, unless he have the stone:
I think with one draught mans invention fades,
Two Cups had quite spoil'd Homers Illiads;
'Tis Liquor that will find out Sutcliff's wit,
Lye where he will, and make him write worse yet;
Fil'd with such moisture in most grievous qualms;
Did Rob[ert] Wisdom write his Singing Psalms;
And so must I do this, and yet I think
It is a potion sent us down to drink,
By special Providence keeps us from fights,
Makes us not laugh, when we make legs to knights.
'Tis this that keeps our minds fit for our States,
A Medicine to obey our Magistrates:
For we do live more free than you, no hate,
No envy at one anothers [happy] State
Moves us, we are all equal every whit:
Of Land that God gives men here is their wit:
If we consider fully, for our best,
And gravest men will with his main house jest,
Scarce please you; we want subtilty to do
The City tricks, lye, hate, and flatter too:
Here are none that can bear a painted show,
Strike when you winch, and then lament the blow:
Who like Mills set the right way for to grind,
Can make their gains alike with every wind:
Only some fellows with the subtil'st pate
Amongst us, may perchance equivocate
At selling of a Horse, and that's the most.
Methinks the little wit I had is lost
Since I saw you, for Wit is like a Rest
Held up at Tennis, which men do the best,
With the best gamesters: what things have we seen,
Done at the Mermaid! heard words that have been
So nimble, and so full of subtil flame,
As if that every one from whence they came,
Had meant to put his whole wit in a jest,
And had resolv'd to live a fool, the rest
Of his dull life; then when there hath been thrown
Wit able enough to justifie the Town
For three days past, wit that might warrant be
For the whole City to talk foolishly
Till that were cancell'd, and when that was gone,
We left an Air behind us, which alone,
Was able to make the two next Companies
Right witty; though but downright fools, more wise.
When I remember this, and see that now
The Countrey Gentlemen begin to allow
My wit for dry bobs, then I needs must cry,
I see my days of Ballating grow nigh;
I can already Riddle, and can Sing
[Ca]tches, sell bargains, and I fear shall bring
My self to speak the hardest words I find,
Over, as oft as any, with one wind,
That takes no medicines: But one thought of thee
Makes me remember all these things to be
The wit of our young men, fellows that show
No part of good, yet utter all they know:
Who like trees of the Guard, have growing souls.
Only strong destiny, which all controuls,
I hope hath left a better fate in store,
For me thy friend, than to live ever poor,
Banisht unto this home; fate once again
Bring me to thee, who canst make smooth and plain
The way of Knowledge for me, and then I,
Who have no good but in thy company,
Protest it will my greatest comfort be
To acknowledge all I have to flow from thee.

Ben. when these Scænes are perfect, we'll taste wine;
I'll drink thy Muses health, thou shalt quaff mine.

---

The Honest Man's Fortune.
A TRAGI-COMEDY.

The Persons represented in the Play.

Duke of Orleans, a spleenful detracting Lord.
Earl of Amiens, Brother-in-law to Orleans, a noble accomplish'd Gentleman, servant to Lamira.
Mountague, an honest Lord.
Du-boys,	Two faithful followers of Mountague.
Longueville,
Voramer, the loving and loyal Page of Mountague.
La Verdine, a knavish Courtier.
La Poop, a foisting Captain.
Mallicorn, a sharking Citizen.
Two Lawyers.
Two Creditors.
Officers.
Servants.
WOMEN.
Duchess of Orleans, a virtuous Lady, and chaste, (but suspected) wife to the Duke.
Lamira, a modest Virgin, and a Lady, rich and noble.
Charlotte, Lamira's Woman.

The Scene France.

The Principal Actors were

• Nathan Field,
• Rob. Benfield,
• Emanuel Read,
• Joseph Taylor,
• Will. Eglestone,
• Thomas Basse.

---

Actus Primus. Scæna Prima.

Enter the Duke of Orleance, and the Earl of Amiens, at several doors.

Amiens. Morrow, my Lord of Orleans.

Orl. You salute me like a stranger; brother Orleance were to me a Title more belonging, whom you call the Husband of your Sister.

Ami. Would the circumstances of your brotherhood had never offer'd cause to make our conversation less familiar: I meet you like a hindrance in your way: your great Lawsuit is now upon the tongue, and ready for a judgement.

Orl. Came you from the Hall now?

Ami. Without stay; the Court is full, and such a press of people does attend the issue, as if some great man were brought to his arraignment.

Orl. Every mothers son of all that multitude of hearers, went to be a witness of the misery your Sisters fortunes must have come to, if my adversary who did love her first, had been her Husband.

Ami. The success may draw a testimony from them, to confirm the same opinion, but they went prepar'd with no such hope or purpose.

Orl. And did you intreat the number of them, that are come with no such hope or purpose.

Ami. Tush, your own experience of my heart can answer ye.

Orl. This doubtful, makes me clearly understand your disposition.

Ami. If your cause be just,
I wish you a conclusion like your cause.

Orl. I can have any common charity to such a Prayer
From a friend I would expect a love to prosper in;
Without exceptions such a love as might
Make all my undertakings thankful to't;
Precisely just is seldom faithful in our wishes
To another mans desires: Farewel. [Exit Orl.

Enter Montague having a Purse, Duboys, Longueville, and Voramer the Page, with two Caskets.

Dub. Here comes your adversarie's brother-in-law.

Long. The Lord of Amiens.

Dub. From the Hall I think.

Ami. I did so: save your Lordship.

Mount. That's a wish my Lord, as courteous to my present state,
As ever honest mind was thankful for;
For now my safety must expose it self
To question: yet to look for any free
Or hearty salutation (Sir) from you
Would be unreasonable in me.

Ami. Why?

Mont. Your Sister is my adversarie's wife;
That nearness needs must consequently draw
Your inclination to him.

Ami. I will grant
Him all the nearness his alliance claims,
And yet be nothing less impartial,
My Lord of Montague.

Mont. Lord of Montague yet:
But (Sir) how long the dignity or state
Belonging to it will continue, stands
Upon [t]he dangerous passage of this hour.
Either for evermore to be confirm'd,
Or like the time wherein 'twas pleaded, gone:
Gone with it, never to be call'd again.

Ami. Justice direct your process to the end;
To both your persons my respect shall still
Be equal; but the righteous cause is that
Which bears my wishes to the side it holds,
Where, ever may it prosper. [Exit Amiens.

Mont. Then my thanks
Are proper to you, if a man may raise
A confidence upon a lawful ground
I have no reason to be once perplex'd
With any doubtful motion, Longue[v]ille,
That Lord of Amiens, (didst observe him?) has
A worthy nature in him.

Long. Either 'tis his nature or his cunning.

Mont. That's the vizard of most mens actions,
Whose dissembled lives
Do carry only the similitude
Of goodness on 'em: but for him
Honest ehaviour makes a true report,
What disposition does inhabit him,
Essential virtue.

Long. Then 'tis pity that
Injurious Orleans is his brother.

Dub. He is but his brother-in-law.

Long. Law? that's as bad.

Dub. How is your Law as bad? I rather wish
The hangman thy Executor than that
Equivocation should be ominous.

Enter two Lawyers, and two Creditors.

Long. Some of your Lawyers—

1 Law. What is ominous?

2 Law. Let no distrust trouble your Lordships thought.

1 Law. The evidences of your question'd Land
Ha' not so much as any literal
Advantage in 'em to be made against
Your Title.

2 Law. And your Council understands
The business fully.

1 Law. Th'are industrious, just.

2 Law. And very confident.

1 Law. Your state endures
A voluntary trial; like a man
Whose honors are maliciously accus'd.

2 Law. The accusation serves to clear his cause.

1 Law. And to approve his truth more.

2 Law. So shall all
Your adversarie's pleadings strengthen your
Possession.

1 Law. And be set upon record
To witness the hereditary right
Of you and yours.

2 Law. Courage, you have the law.

Long. And you the profits.

Mont. If discouragement
Could work upon me, your assurances
Would put me strongly into heart again;
But I was never fearful: and let fate
Deceive my expectation, yet I am
Prepared against dejection.

1 Cre. So are we.

2 Cre. We have received a comfortable hope
That all will speed well.

Long. What is he Duboys?

Dub. A Creditor.

Long. I thought so, for he speaks
As if he were a partner in his state.

Mont. Sir, I am largely indebted to your loves.

Long. More to their purses.

M[o]nt. Which you shall not lose.

1 Cred. Your Lordship.

Dub. That's another creditor.

1 Cred. Has interest in me.

Long. You have more of him.

1 Cred. And I have had so many promises
From these, and all your learned Counsellors;
How certainly your cause will prosper: that—

Long. You brought no Serjeants with you?

Dub. To attend his ill success.

Mont. Good Sir, I will not be
Unthankful either to their industries
Or your affections.

1 Law. All your Land (my Lord)
Is at the barr now, give me but ten Crowns
I'll save you harmless.

Long. Take him at his word;
If he does lose, you're sav'd by miracle,
For I never knew a Lawyer yet undone.

1 Law. Then now you shall, Sir, if this prospers not.

Long. Sir, I beseech you do not force your voice
To such a loudness, but be thrifty now;
Preserve it till you come to plead at bar
It will be much more profitable in
The satisfaction than the promise.

1 Law. Is not this a satisfaction to engage
My self for this assurance, if he—

Mont. No Sir, my ruin never shall import
Anothers loss, if not by accident,
And that my purpose is not guilty of:
You [are] engag'd in nothing but your care. [Ex. Law.
Attend the Procurator to the Court,
Observe how things incline, and bring me word.

Long. I dare not, Sir, if I be taken there,
Mine ears will be in danger.

Mont. Why? hast thou
Committed something that deserves thine ears?

Long. No, but I fear the noise; my hearing will be
Perished by the noise; 'tis as good 't want
[A member, as to loose the use—]

Mont. The ornament is excepted.

Long. Well my Lord
I'll put 'em to the hazard. [Exit Long.

1 Cred. Your desires be prosperous to you.

2 Cred. Our best Prayers wait
Upon your fortune. [Exeunt Cred.

Dub. For your selves, not him.

Mont. Thou canst not blame 'em: I am in their debts.

Ver. But had your large expence (a part whereof
You owe 'em) for unprofitable Silks
And Laces, been bestowed among the poor,
That would have prayed the right way for you:
Not upon you.

Mont. For unprofitable Silks
And Laces? now believe me honest boy
Th'ast hit upon a reprehension that belongs
Unto me.

Ver. By —— my Lord,
I had not so unmannerly a thought,
To reprehend you.

Mont. Why I love thee for't.
Mine own acknowledgement confirms thy words:
For once I do remember, comming from
The Mercers, where my Purse had spent it self
On those unprofitable toys thou speak'st of,
A man half naked with his poverty
Did meet me, and requested my relief:
I wanted whence to give it, yet his eyes
Spoke for him, those I could have satisfied
With some unfruitful sorrow, (if my tears
Would not have added rather to his grief,
Than eas'd it) but the true compassion that
I should have given I had not: this began
To make me think how many such mens wants
The vain superfluous cost I wore upon
My outside would have clothed, and left my self
A habit as becomming: to increase
This new consideration there came one
Clad in a garment plain and thrifty, yet
As decent as these fair dear follies; made
As if it were of purpose to despise
The vanity of shew: his purse had still
The power to do a charitable deed,
And did it.

Dub. Yet your inclination, Sir,
Deserv'd no less to be commended, than his action.

Mont. Prethee do not flatter me;
He that intends well, yet deprives himself
Of means, to put his good thoughts into deed,
Deceives his purpose of the due reward
That goodness merits: oh antiquity
Thy great examples of Nobility
Are out of imitation, or at least
So lamely follow'd, that thou art as much
Before this age in virtue, as in time.

Dub. Sir, it must needs be lamely followed, when
The chiefest men love to follow it
Are for the most part cripples.

Mont. Who are they?

Dub. Soldiers, my Lord, soldiers.

Mont. 'Tis true Duboys: but if the law disables me no more
For Noble actions, than good purposes,
I'll practice how to exercise the worth
Commended to us by our ancestors;
The poor neglected soldier shall command
Me from a Ladies Courtship, and the form
I'll study shall no more be taught me by
The Taylor, but the Scholar; that expence
Which hitherto has been to entertain
Th' intemperate pride and pleasure of the taste
Shall fill my Table more to satisfie,
And less to surfeit.
What an honest work it would be; when we find
A Virgin in her poverty, and youth
Inclining to be tempted, to imploy
As much perswasion, and as much expence
To keep her upright, as men use to do upon her falling.

Dub. 'Tis charity that many Maids will be unthankful for,
And some will rather take it for a wrong,
To buy 'em out of their inheritance,
The thing that they were born to.

Enter Longueville.

Mont. Longueville, thou bringst a chearful promise in thy face.
There stands no pale report upon thy cheek,
To give me fear or knowledge of my loss, 'tis red and lively.
How proceeds my suit?

Long. That's with leave, Sir, a labour that to those of Hercules,
May add another; or (at least) be call'd
An imitation of his burning shirt:
For 'twas a pain of that [un]merciful
Perplexity, to shoulder through the throng
Of people that attended your success:
My sweaty linnen fixt upon my skin,
Still as they pull'd me, took that with it; 'twas
A fear I should have left my flesh among 'em:
Yet I was patient, for (methought) the toil
Might be an emblem of the difficult
And weary passage to get out of Law.
And to make up the dear similitude,
When I was forth seeking my handkerchief
To wipe my sweat off, I did find a cause
To make me sweat more, for my Purse was lost
Among their fingers.

Dub. There 'twas rather found.

Long. By them.

Dub. I mean so.

Mont. Well, I will restore
Thy damage to thee: how proceeds my suit?

L[o]ng. Like one at Brokers; I think forfeited.
Your promising Counsel at the first
Put strongly forward with a labour'd speed,
And such a violence of pleading, that
His Fee in Sugar-candy scarce will make
His throat a satisfaction for the hurt
He did it, and he carried the whole cause
Before him, with so clear a passage, that
The people in the favour of your side
Cried Montague, Montague: in the spight of him
That cryed out silence, and began to laugh
Your adversaries advocate to scorn:
Who like a cunning Footman set me forth
With such a temperate easie kind of course
To put him into exercise of strength,
And follow'd his advantages so close,
That when your hot mouth'd pleader thought h' had won,
Before he reacht it, he was out of breath,
And then the other stript him.

Mont. So all is lost.

Long. But how I know not; for, (methought) I stood
Confounded with the clamour of the Court,
Like one embark'd upon a storm at Sea,
Where the tempestuous noise of Thunder mixt
With roaring of the billows, and the thick,
Imperfect language of the Sea-men, takes
His understanding and his safety both
Together from him.

Mont. Thou dost bring ill news.

Long. Of what I was unwilling to have been
The first reporter.

Mont. Didst observe no more?

Long. At least no better.

Mont. Then th'art not inform'd
So well as I am; I can tell thee that
Will please thee, for when all else left my cause,
My very adversaries took my part.

Long. —Whosoever told you that, abused you.

Mont. Credit me, he took my part
When all forsook me.

Long. Took it from you.

Mont. Yes I mean so, and I think he had just cause
To take it, when the verdict gave it him.

Dub. His Spirit would ha' sunk him, e'r he could
Have carried an ill fortune of this weight so lightly.

Mont. Nothing is a misery, unless our weakness apprehend it so;
We cannot be more faithful to our selves
In any thing that's manly, than to make
Ill fortune as contemptible to us
As it makes us to others.

Enter Lawyers.

Long. Here come they
Whose very countenances will tell you how
Contemptible it is to others.

Mont. Sir?

Long. The Sir of Knighthood may be given him, e'r
They hear you now?

Mont. Good Sir but a word.

Dub. How soon the loss of wealth makes any man
Grow out of knowledge.

Long. Let me see, I pray, Sir,
Never stood you upon the Pillory?

1 Law. The Pillory?

Long. Oh now I know you did not.
Y'ave ears, I thought ye had lost 'em; pray observe,
Here's one that once was gracious in your eyes.

1 Law. Oh my Lord, have an eye upon him.

Long. But ha' you ne'er a Counsel to redeem
His Land yet from the judgement?

2 Law. None but this, a Writ of error to remove the cause.

Long. No more of error, we have been in that too much already.

2 Law. If you will reverse the judgement, you must trust to that delay.

Long. Delay? indeed he's like to trust to that,
With you has any dealing.

2 Law. E'r the Law proceeds to an Habere facias possessionem.

Dub. That's a language Sir, I understand not.

Long. Th'art a very strange unthankful fellow to have taken Fees of such a liberal measure, and then give a man hard words for's money.

1 Law. If men will hazard their salvations,
What should I say? I've other business.

Mont. Y'are i'th' right;
That's it you should say, now prosperity has left me.

Enter two Creditors.

1 Cred. Have an eye upon him; if
We lose him now, he's gone for ever; stay
And dog him: I'll go fetch the Officers.

Long. Dog him you Bloud-hound: by this point thou shalt more safely dog an angry Lion, than attempt him.

Mont. What's the matter?

Long. Do but stir to fetch a Serjeant; and besides your loss
Of labour, I'll have you beaten, till
Those casement in your faces be false lights.

Dub. Falser than those you sell by.

Mont. Who gave you Commission to abuse my friends thus?

Lon. Sir, are those your friends that would betray you?

Mont. 'Tis to save themselves rather than betray me.

1 Cred. Your Lordship makes a just construction of it.

2 Cred. All our desire is but to get our own.

Long. Your wives desires and yours do differ then.

Mont. So far as my ability will go
You shall have satisfaction Longeville.

Long. And leave your self neglected; every man
Is first a debtor to his own demands, being honest.

Mont. As I take it, Sir, I did
Not entertain you for my Counselor.

Long. Counsel's the office of a servant,
When the master falls upon a danger; as
Defence is; never threaten with your eyes,
They are no cockatrices; do you hear?
Talk with [a] Girdler, or [a] Mill'ner,
He can inform you of a kind of men
That first undid the profit of those trades
By bringing up the form of carrying
Their Morglays in their hands: with some of those
A man may make himself a priviledge
To ask a question at the prison gates
Without your good permission.

2 Cred. By your leave.

Mont. Stay Sir, what one example since the time
That first you put your hat off to me, have
You noted in me to encourage you
To this presumption? by the justice now
Of thine own rule, I should begin with thee,
I should turn thee away ungratified
For all thy former kindness, forget
Thou ever didst me any service: 'tis not fear
Of being arrested, makes me thus incline
To satisfy you; for you see by him,
I lost not all defences with my state;
The curses of a man to whom I am
Beholding terrify me more, than all
The violence he can pursue me with.
Duboys, I did prepare me for the worst;
These two small Cabinets do comprehend
The sum of all the wealth that it hath pleased
Adversity to leave me, one as rich
As th'other, both in Jewels; take thou this,
And as the Order put within it shall
Direct thee, distribute it half between
Those Creditors, and th' other half among
My servants: for (Sir) they are my Creditors
As well as you are, they have trusted me
With their advancement: if the value fail,
To please you all, my first increase of means
Shall offer you a fuller payment; be content
To leave me something, and imagine that
You put a new beginner into credit.

Cred. So prosper our own blessings, as we wish you to
your merit.

Mont. Are you[r] silences of discontent, or of sorrow?

Dub. Sir, we would not leave you.

Long. Do but suffer us to follow you, and what our present
means, or industries hereafter can provide, shall serve you.

Mont. Oh desire me not to live
To such a baseness, as to be maintained
By those that serve me; pray begone, I will
Defend your honesties to any man
That shall report you have forsaken me;
I pray begone. [Exeunt Servants and Creditors.
Why, dost thou weep my boy,
Because I do not bid thee go to[o]?

Ver. No, I weep (my Lord) because I would not go;
I fear you will command me.

Mont. No my child,
I will not; that would discommend th' intent
Of all my other actions: thou art yet
Unable to advise thy self a course,
Should I put thee to seek it; after that
I must excuse, or at the least forgive
Any [un]charitable deed that can be done against my self.

Ver. Every day (my Lord) I tarry with you, I'll account
A day of blessing to me; for I shall
Have so much less time left me of my life
When I am from you: and if misery
Befall you (which I hope so good a man
Was never born to) I will take my part,
And make my willingness increase my strength
To bear it. In the Winter I will spare
Mine own cloth[e]s from my self to cover you;
And in the Summer, carry some of yours
To ease you: I'll doe any thing I can.

Mont. Why, thou art able to make misery
Ashamed of hurting, when thy weakness can
Both bear it, and despise it: Come my boy
I will provide some better way for thee
Than this thou speakst of: 'tis the comfort that
[Ill] fortune has undone me into the fashion:
For now in this age most men do begin,
To keep but one boy, that kept many men. [Exeunt.

Enter Orleans, a Servant, his Lady following.

Orl. Where is she? call her.

Lady. I attend you Sir.

Orl. Your friend sweet Madam.

Lady. What friend, good my Lord?

Orl. Your Montague, Madam, he will shortly want
Those Courtly graces that you love him for;
The means wherewith he purchased this, and this;
And all his own provisions to the least
Proportion of his feeding, or his clothes,
Came out of that inheritance of land
Which he unjustly lived on: but the law
Has given me right in't, and possession; now
Thou shalt perceive his bravery vanish, as
This Jewell does from thee now, and these Pearls
To him that owes 'em.

Lady. Ye are the owner Sir of every thing that does belong to me.

Orl. No, not of him, sweet Lady.

Lady. O good [God]!

Orl. But in a while your mind will change, and be
As ready to disclaim him; when his wants
And miseries have perish'd his good face,
And taken off the sweetness that has made
Him pleasing in a womans understanding.

La. O Heaven, how gratious had Creation been
To women, who are born without defence,
If to our hearts there had been doors through which
Our husbands might have lookt into our thoughts,
And made themselves undoubtfull.

Orl. Made 'em mad.

La. With honest women.

Orl. Thou dost still pretend
A title to that virtue: prethee let
Thy honesty speak freelie to me now.
Thou know'st that Montague, of whose Land
I [a]m the master, did affect thee first,
And should have had thee, if the strength of friends
Had not prevail'd above thine own consent.
I have undone him; tell me how thou dost
Consider his ill fortune and my good.

La. I'll tell you justly his undoing is
An argument for pity and for tears
In all their dispositions that have known
The honor and the goodness of his life:
Yet that addition of prosperity,
Which you have got by't, no indifferent man
Will malice or repine at, if the Law
Be not abused in't; howsoever since
You have the upper fortune of him, 'twill
Be some dishonor to you to bear your self
With any pride or glory over him.

Orl. This may be truely spoken, but in thee
It is not honest.

La. Yes, so honest, that I care not if the chast Penelope
Were now alive to hear me.

Enter Amiens.

Orl. Who comes there?

La. My brother.

Am. Save ye.

Orl. Now Sir, you have heard of prosperous Montague.

Am. No Sir, I have heard of Montague,
But of your prosperity.

Orl. Is he distracted.

Am. He does bear his loss with such a noble strength
Of patience that,
Had fortune eyes to see him, she would weep
For having hurt him, and pretending that
Shee did it but for triall of his worth:
Hereafter ever love him.

Orl. I perceive you love him, and because (I must confess)
He does deserve that though for some respects,
I have not given him that acknowledgement,
Yet in mine honor I did still conclude to use him nobly.

Am. Sir, that will become your reputation and make me
grow proud of your alliance.

Orl. I did reserve the doing of this friendship till I had
His fortunes at my mercy, that the world
May tell him 'tis a willing courtesie.

La. This change will make me happy.

Orl. 'Tis a change; thou shalt behold it: then observe me when
That Montague had possession of my Land,
I was his rivall, and at last obtain'd
This Lady who, by promise of her own
Affection to him, should ha' bin his wife;
I had her, and withheld her like a pawn,
Till now my Land is rend'red to me again,
And since it is so, you shall see I have
The conscience not to keep her—give him her— [draws.

For by the faithfull temper of my sword, she shall not tarry with me.

Am. Give me way— [draws.
Thou most unworthy man—give me way;
Or by the wrong he does the Innocent,
I'll end thy misery and his wickedness, together.

Lady. Stay and let me justifie
My husband in that, I have wrong'd his bed. [Exeunt Am. Orl.

Enter Orleans in amazement, the servants following him.

Never—all shames that can afflict me fall
Upon me if I ever wrong'd you;

Orl. Didst thou not confess it;

La. 'Twas to save your blood from shedding, that has
Turn'd my brothers edge;
He that beholds our thoughts as plainely as
Our faces, knowes it, I did never hurt
My honesty but by accusing it.

Orl. Womens consents are sooner credited
Than their denials: and I'll never trust
Her body that prefers any defence
Before the safety of her honor—here

Enter Servant.

Show forth that stranger—give me not a word.
Thou seest a danger readie to be tempted.

La. Cast that upon me rather than my shame,
And as I am now dying I will vow
That I am honest.

Orl. Put her out of dores; but that I fear my land
May go again to Montague, I would kill thee, I am loth,
To make a beggar of him that way; or else—
Go now you have the liberty of flesh,
And you may put it to a double use,
One for your pleasure, th'other to maintain
Your wellbeloved, he will want. [Exit Lady.
In such a charitable exercise
The virtue will excuse you for the vice. [Exit Orleans.

Enter Amiens drawn, Montague, Veramor meeting.

Mont. What means your Lordship?

Ver. For the love of [God].

Am. Thou hast advantage of me, cast away this buckler.

Mont. So he is Sir, for he lives
With one that is undone—avoyd us boy.

Ver. I'll first avoid my safety,
Your Rapier shall be button'd with my head, before it touch
my Master.

Am. Montague?

Mont. Sir.

Am. You know my sister?

Mont. Yes Sir.

Am. For a whore?

Mont. You lye, and shall lie lower if you dare abuse her honor.

Enter Lady.

La. I am honest.

Am. Honest!

La. Upon my faith I am.

Am. What did then p[e]rsuade thee to condemn thy self?

La. Your safety.

Am. I had rather be expos'd
To danger, than dishonor; th'ast betray'd
The reputation of my familie
More basely by the falseness of that word,
Than if thou hadst delivered me asleep
Into the hands of base enemies.
Relief will never make thee sensible
Of thy disgraces; let thy wants compell thee to it. [Exit.

La. O I am a miserable woman.

Mont. Why Madam? are you utterly without means to relieve you?

La. I have nothing Sir, unless by changing of these cloaths for worse, and then at last the worst for nakedness.

Mont. Stand off boy, nakedness would be a change
To please us Madam, to delight us both.

La. What nakedness Sir?

Mont. Why the nakedness of body Madam, we were Lovers once.

La. Never dishonest Lovers.

Mont. Honestie has no allowance now to give our selves.

La. Nor you allowance against honestie.

Mont. I'll send my Boy hence, opportunitie
Shall be our servant, come and meet me first
With kisses like a stranger at the door,
And then invite me nearer to receive
A more familiar inward wellcome; where,
Instead of tapers made of Virgins wax
Th'increasing flames of our desires shall light
Us to a banquet: and before the taste
Be dull with satisfaction, I'll prepare
A nourishment compos'd of every thing
That bears a naturall friendship to the blood,
And that shall set another edge upon 't,
Or else between the courses of the feast
We'll dallie out an exercise of time,
That ever as one appetite expires another may succeed it.

La. O my Lord, how has your nature lost her worthiness!
When our affections had their liberty,
Our kisses met as temperatelie as
The hands of sisters, or of brothers, that
Our bloods were then as moving; then you were
So noble, that I durst have trusted your
Embraces in an opportunity
Silent enough to serve a ravisher,
And yet come from you—undishonor'd—how
You think me altered, that you promise your
Attempt success I know not; but were all
The sweet temptations that deceive us set
On this side, and [on] that side all the waiters,
These neither should p[e]rsuade me, nor these force.

Mont. Then misery may waste your body.

Lady. Yes, but lust shall never.

Mont. I have found you still as uncorupted as I left you first
Continue so; and I will serve you with
As much devotion as my word, my hand
Or purse can show you; and to justifie
That promise, here is half the wealth I have,
Take it, you owe me nothing, till you fall
From virtue, which the better to protect
I have bethought me of a present means:
Give me the Letter; this commends my Boy
Into the service of a Lady, whose
Free goodness you have bin acquainted with, Lamira.

Lady. Sir I know her.

Mont. Then believe her entertainment will be noble to you;
My boy shall bring you thither: and relate
Your manner of misfortune if your own
Report needs any witness: so I kiss your hand good Lady.

Lady. Sir, I know not how to promise, but I cannot be unthankfull.

Mont. All that you can implore in thankfulness
Be yours, to make you the more prosperous.
Farwell my boy,—I am not yet oppress'd. [Exit Lady Vere.
Having the power to helpe one that's distress'd. [Exeunt.

---

Actus Secundi. Scæna Prima.

Enter Longaville and Dubois.

Long. What shall we do now: swords are out of use,
And words are out of credit.

Dub. We must serve.

L[o]ng. The means to get a service will first spend
Our purses; and except we can allow
Our selves an entertainment, service will
Neglect us; now 'tis grown into a doubt
Whether the Mr. or the servants gives the countenance.

Dub. Then fall in with Mistresses.

Long. They keep more servants now (indeed) than men,
But yet the age is grown so populous
Of those attendants, that the women are
Grown full too.

Dub. What shall we propound our selves?

Long. I'll think on't.

Dub. Do; Old occupations have too many setters up to
prosper, some uncommon trade would thrive now.

Long. Wee'll e'en make up some half a dozen proper men.
And should not we get more
Than all your female sinners?

Dub. If the house be seated as it should be privately.

Long. I, but that would make a multitude of witches.

Dub. Witches? how prethee?

Long. Thus the bauds would all turn witches to revenge
Themselves upon us, and the women that
Come to us, for disguises must wear beards,
And that's they say, a token of a witch.

Dub. What shall we then do.

Long. We must study on't
With more consideration; stay Duboyes
Are not the Lord of Orleans and the Lord
Of Amiens enemies?

Dub. Yes, what of that.

Long. Methinks the factions of two such great men.
Should give a promise of advancement now
To us that want it.

Dub. Let the plot be thine, and in the enterprize I'll second thee.

Long. I have it, we will first set down our selves
The Method of a quarrell; and make choyce
Of some frequented Tavern; or such a place
Of common notice, to perform it in
By way of undertaking to maintain
The severall honors of those enemies.
Thou for the Lord of Orleans; I for Amiens.

Dub. I like the project, and I think 'twill take
The better, since their difference first did rise
From his occasion whom we followed once.

Long. We cannot hope less after the report,
Than entertainment or gratuity,
Yet those are ends, I do not aim at most;
Great spirits that are needy, and will thrive,
Must labour whiles such troubles are alive. [Exeunt.

Enter Laverdine and La-poope.

La-p. Slander is sharper than the sword. I have fed this three dayes upon leaf Tobacco, for want of other Victuals.

Lav. You have liv'd the honester Captain; but be not so dejected, but hold up thy head, and meat will sooner fall i'thy mouth.

La-p. I care not so much for meat, so I had but good liquor, for which my guts croak like so many Frogs for rain.

Lav. It seems, you are troubled with the wind-Collick, Captain, swallow a bullet: 'tis present remedy I'll assure you.

La-p. A bullet? I'll tell you Sir, my panch is nothing but a pile of bullets; when I was in any service I stood between my Generall and the shot, like a mud-wall; I am all lead, from the crown of the head to the soal of the foot, not a sound bone about me.

La[v]. It seems you have bin in terrible hot service Captain.

La-p. It has ever bin the fate of the low Country wars to spoil many a man, I ha' not bin the first nor shall not be the last: but I'll tell you Sir, (hunger has brought it in to mind) I served once at the Siege of Braste, 'tis memorable to this day, where we were in great distress for victuals, whole troops fainted more for want of food then for blood, and died, yet we were resolved to stand it out; I my self was but then Gentleman of a Company, and had as much need as any man, and indeed I had perished had not a miraculous providence preserved me.

Lav. As how good Captain?

La-p. Marry Sir, e'en as I was fainting and falling down for want of sustenance, the enemy made a shot at me, and struck me full ith' paunch with a penny loaf.

Lav. Instead of a bullet!

La-p. In stead of a bullet.

Lav. That was miraculous indeed; and that loaf sustained you.

La-p. Nourished me or I had famished with the rest.

Lav. You have done worthy acts being a soldier, and now you shall give me leave to requite your tale, and to acquaint you with the most notorious deeds that I have done being a Courtier. I protest Captain I will lie no more than you have done.

La-p. I can indure no lies.

Lav. I know you cannot Captain, therefore I'll only tell you of strange things: I did once a deed of charity for it self; I assisted a poor widow in a sute, and obtained it, yet I protest I took not a penny for my labor.

La-p. 'Tis no such strange thing.

Lav. By Mars Captain, but it is, and a very strange thing too in a Courtier, it may take the upper hand of your penny loaf for a miracle. I could ha' told you how many Ladyes have languished for my love, and how I was once sollicited by the mother, the daughter, and grand-mother; out of the least of which I might have digg'd my self a fortune; they were all great Ladyes, for two of them were so big I could hardly embrace them: but I was sluggish in my rising courses, and therefore let them pass; what means I had is spent upon such as had the wit to cheat me; That wealth being gone, I have only bought experience with it, with a strong hope to cheat others; but see here comes the much declined Montague, who had all the Manor houses, which were the body of his estate, overthrowen by a great wind.

Enter Montague, Mallicorne.

La-p. How by a great wind? was he not overthrown by law?

Lav. Yes, marry was he: but there was terrible puffing and blowing before he was overthrown, if you observ'd, and believe it Captain, there's no wind so dangerous to a building as a lawyers breath.

La-p. What's he with him?

Lav. An eminent Citizen, Mounsier Mallicorne, let's stand a side and listen their design.

Mal. Sir, profit is the Crown of labor, it is the life, the soul of the industrious Merchant, in it he makes his paradise, and for it neglects Wife, Children, Friends, Parents, nay all the world, and delivers up himself to the violence of storms, and to be tos'd into unknown ayrs; as there is no faculty so perillous, so there's none so worthy profitable.

Mont. Sir, I am very well possest of it, and what of my poore fortunes remaines, I would gladly hazard upon the Sea: it cannot deal worse with me than the Land, though it sink or throw it in the hands of Pirats. I have yet five hundred pounds left, and your honest and worthy acquaintance may make me a young Merchant; th'one moity of what I have I would gladly adventure.

Mal. How adventure? you shall hazard nothing: you shall only joyn with me in certain commodities that are safe arrived unto the Key; you shall neither be in doubt of danger nor dammage; But so much money disburst, so much receive; Sir, I would have you conceive I pursue it not for any good your money will do me, but meerly out of mine own freeness and courtesie to pleasure you.

Mont. I can believe no less, and you express a noble nature, seeking to build up a man so ruin'd as my self.

Lav. Captain here is subject for us to work upon if we have wit; you hear that there is money yet left, and it is going to be layd out in Rattels, Bels, Hobby-Horses, brown paper, or some such like sale commodities; now it would do better in our purses, upon our backs in good Gold-lace, and Scarlat, and then we might pursue our projects, and our devices towards my Lady Annabella; go to, there's a conceit newly landed, heark I stand in good reputation with him, and therefore may the better cheat him: Captain, take a few instructions from me.

Mont. What monies I have is at your disposing, and upon twelve I will meet you at the Pallace with it.

Mal. I will there expect you, and so I take my leave. [Exit.

Lav. You apprehend me?

La-p. Why do ye think I am a dunce?

Lav. Not a dunce Captain, but you might give me leave to misdoubt that pregnancy in a Soldier, which is proper and hereditary to a Courtier; but prosecute it, I will both second, and give credit to it. Good Mounsier Montague, I would your whole revenues lay within the circuit of mine armes, that I might as easily bestow, or restore it unto you as my curtesie.

La-p. My zealous wishes Sir, do accompany his for your good fortunes.

Lav. Believe it Sir, our affection towards you is a strong band of friendship.

Mont. To which I shall most willingly seal. But believe me Gentlemen in a broken estate, the bond of friendship oft is forfeited, but that it is your free and ingenuous nature to renew it.

Lav. Sir, I will amply extend my self to your use, and am very zealously afflicted as not one of your least friends for your crooked fate; But let it not seise you with any dejection, you have as I hear a sufficient competency left, which well disposed may erect you as high in the worlds account as ever.

Mont. I cannot live to hope it, much less injoy it, nor is it any part of my endeavor; my study is to render every man his own, and to contain my self within the limits of a Gentleman.

Lav. I have the grant of an Office given me by some noble favorites of mine in Court, there stands but a small matter between me and it, if your ability be such to lay down the present summ, out of the love I bear you, before any other man, it shall be confirmed yours.

Mont. I have heard you often speak of such a thing; If it be assur'd to you I will gladly deal in it: that portion I have, I would not hazard upon one course, for I see the most certain is incertain.

La-p. Having money Sir, you could not light upon men that could give better direction; there is at this time a friend of mine upon the Seas; to be plain with you, he is a pyrate, that hath wrote to me to work his fredom, and by this Gentlemans means, whose acquaintance is not small at Court; we have the word of a worthy man for it, only there is some money to be suddainly disburst, and if your happiness be such to make it up you shall receive treble gain by it, and good assurance for it.

Mont. Gentlemen, out of the weakness of my estate you seem (to have some knowledge of my brest) that wou'd if it were possible advance my declined fortunes, to satisfie all men of whom I have had credit, and I know no way better than these which you propose; I have some money ready under my command, some part of it is already promis'd, but the remainder is yours to such uses as are propounded.

Lav. Appoint some certain place of meeting, for these affaires require expedition.

Mount. I will make it my present business: at twelve, I am to meet Mallicorne, the Marchant at the Pallace, you know him Sir, about some negotiation of the same nature, there I will be ready to tender you that money, upon such conditions as we shall conclude of.

Lav. The care of it be yours, so much as the affair concerns you.

Mont. Your caution is effectuall, and till then I take my leave.

Lav. Good Mr Montague. [Exit.

Wthin a clamor, down with their weapons.

Enter Longavile, and Dubois, their swords drawn, servants and others between them.

Ser. Nay Gentlemen what mean you? pray be quiet, have some respect unto the house.

Long. A treacherous slave.

Du. Thou dost revile thy self base Longavile.

Long. I say thou art a villain, and a corrupt one, that hast some seven years fed on thy masters trencher, yet never bredst good blood towards him: for if thou hadst, thou'dst have a sounder heart.

Du. So Sir, you can use your tongue something nimbler than your sword.

Long. Wou'd you cou'd use your tongue well of your Master, friend you might have better imployment for your sword.

Du. I say again, and I will speak it loud and often, that Orleans is a noble Gentleman with whom Amiens is too light to poyse the scale.

Long. He is the weaker for taking of a prayse out of thy mouth.

Du. This hand shall seal his merit at thy heart.

Lav. Part them my masters, part them.

Ser. Part them Sir, why do you not part them, you stand by with your sword in your hand, and cry part 'em.

Lav. Why you must know my friend my cloaths are better than yours, and in a good suit, I do never use to part any body.

La-p. And it is discretion.

Lav. I marry is it Captain.

Long. Dubois though this place priviledge thee, know where next we meet, the blood which at thy heart flows drops at thy feet.

Enter Amience in haste, his sword drawn.

Du. I would not spend it better than in this quarrell, and on such a hazard.

Ami. What uprore's this, must my name here be question'd in Tavern brawls, and by affected Ruffins?

Lav. Not we indeed Sir.

Du. Fear cannot make me shrink out of your fury, though you were greater than your name doth make you, I am one, and the opposer; if your swoln rage have ought in malice to inforce express it.

Ami. I seek thee not, nor shalt thou ever gain
That credit, which a blow from me wou'd give thee,
By my —— I more detest that fellow
Which took my part than thee, that he durst offer
To take my honor in his feeble armes,
And spend it in a drinking room; which way went he?

Lav. That way Sir, I wou'd you wou'd after; for I do fear we shall have some more scuffling.

Ami. [I]'ll follow him, and if my speed o'er take him, I shall ill thank him, for his forwardness. [Exit.

Lav. I am glad he's gone, for I doe not love to see a sword drawn in the hand of a man that lookes so furious, there's no jesting with edge tooles, how say you Captain?

Cap. I say 'tis better jesting than to be in earnest with them.

Enter Orleance.

Orl. How now? what's the difference? they say there have bin swords drawn, and in my quarrell: let me know that man, whose love is so sincere to spend his blood for my sake, I will bounteously requite him.

Lav. We were all of your side, but there he stands begun it.

Orl. What's thy name?

Dub. Duboyes.

Orl. Give me thy hand, [thou] hast received no hurt?

Dub. Not any, nor were this body stuck full of wounds, I should not count them hurts, being taken in so honorable a cause as the defence of my most worthy Lord.

Orl. The dedication of thy love to me requires my ample bounty, thou art mine, for I do find thee made unto my purposes: Mounsieur Laverdine, pardon my neglect I not observed you, and how runs rumour?

Lav. Why, it runs my Lord like a foot-man without a cloak, to show that what's once rumour'd it cannot be hid.

Or[l]. And what say the rable, am not I the subject of their talk?

Lav. Troth my Lord the common mouth speaks foul words.

Orl. Of me, for turning away my wife, do they not?

Lav. Faith the men do a little murmure at it and say, 'tis an ill president in so great a man, marry the women they rayl out right.

Orl. Out upon them rampallions. I'll keep my self safe enough out of their fingers, but what say my pritty jolly composed gallants that censure every thing more desperate than it is dangerous; what say they?

Lav. Marry they are laying wagers, what death you shall die; one offers to lay five hundred pounds; And yet he had but a groat about him, & that was in two twopences too to any man that wou'd make it up a shilling; that you were kil'd with a Pistoll charg'd with white Powder; another offerd to pawn his soul for five shillings, and yet no body wou'd take him, that you were stab'd to death, and shou'd die with more wounds than Cæsar.

Orl. And who shou'd be the Butchers that shou'd do it? Montague and his associates?

Lav. So 'tis conjectured.

La-p. And believe it, sweet Prince, it is to be feared, and therefore prevented.

Orl. By turning his purpose on himself, were not that the way?

Lav. The most direct path for your safety. For where doth danger sit more furious than in a desperate man?

La-p. And being you have declined his means, you have increast his malice.

Lav. Besides the generall report that steems in every mans breath, and stains you all over with infamy, that Time the devourer of all things cannot eat out.

La-p. I, for that former familiarity, which he had with your Lady.

Lav. Men speak it as boldly as words of compliment; good morrow, good even, or [God] save you Sir, are not more usuall; if the word cuckold had been written upon your forehead in great Capitall Letters, it could not have been dilated with more confidence.

Orl. He shall not sleep another night, I will have his blood, though it be required at my hands again.

Lav. Your Lordship may, and without hazarding your own person; here's a Gentleman in whose looks I see a resolution to perform it.

Dub. Let his Lordship give me but his honorable word for my life, I'll kill him as he walks.

Lav. Or pistoll him as he sits at meat.

La-p. Or at game.

Lav. Or as he is drinking.

Dub. Any way.

Orl. Wou't thou? call what is mine thine own, thy reputation shall not be brought in question for it, much less thy life; it shall be nam'd a deed of valour in thee, not murder: Farewell. [Exit.

Dub. I need no more encouragement, it is a work I will persuade my self that I was born to.

Laver. And you may persuade your self too that you shall be sav'd by it, being that it is for his honorable Lordship.

Dub. But you must yield me means, how, when and where.

Lav. That shall be our tasks;
Nay more, we will be agents with thee:
This hour we are to meet him, on the receipt of certain moneys,
Which indeed we purpose honestly to cheat him of,
And that's the main cause I wou'd have him slain,
Who works with safety makes a double gain. [Exeunt.

Enter Longaville, Amiens following him.

Ami. Stay Sir, I have took some pains to overtake you.—Your name is Longaville.

Long. I have the word of many honest men for't, I crave your Lordships pardon, your sudden apprehension on my steps made me to frame an answer unwitting and unworthy your respect.

Ami. Doe you know me?

Long. Yes, my Lord.

Ami. I know not you; nor am I well pleased to make this time, as the affair now stands, the induction of your acquaintance; you are a fighting fellow.

Long. How my Lord?

Ami. I think I too much grace you; rather you are a fellow dares not fight, but spit and puffe and make a noyse, whilst your trembling hand draws out your Sword, to lay it upon andirons, stools or tables, rather than on a man.

Long. Your honor may best speak this; yet —— with little safety, if I thought it serious.

Ami. Come, you are a verie braggart, and you have given me cause to tell you so: what weakness have you ever seen in me to prompt your self, that I could need you help; or what other reason could induce you to it? you never yet had a meals meat from my Table, nor as I remember from my Wardrop any cast Suit.

Lon. 'Tis true, I never durst yet have such a servile spirit, to be the minion of a full swoln Lord; but alwaies did detest such slavery: a meals meat, or a cast Suit? I wou'd first eat the stones, and from such rags the dunghils doe afford, pick me a garment.

Ami. I have mistook the man, his resolute spirit
Proclaimes him generous, he has a noble heart
As free to utter good deeds as to act them;
For had he not been right, and of one piece,
He would have crumpled, curled, and struck himself
Out of the shape of man into a shaddow.
But prethee tell me, if no such fawning hope
Did lead thee on to hazard life for my sake;
What was it that incited thee?
Tell me; speak it without the imputation of a Sycophant.

Long. Your own desert, and with it was joyn'd the unfained friendship that I judged you ever held unto my former Lord.

Ami. The noble Montague?

Long. Yes, the noble and much injured Montague.

Ami. To such a man as thou art, my heart shall be
A Casket: I will lock thee up there,
And esteem thee as a faithfull friend,
The richest Jewell that a man enjoyes;
And being thou didst follow once my friend,
And in thy heart still dost, not with his fortunes casting him off,
Thou shalt go hand in hand with me, and share
As well in my ability as love; 'tis not my end
To gain men for my use, but a true friend. [Exeunt.

Enter Duboys.

Dub. There's no such thriving way to live in grace,
As to have no sence of it; his back nor belly
Shall not want warming that can practise me mischief;
I walk now with a full purse, grow high and wanton,
Prune and briske my self in the bright shine
Of his good Lordships favours; and for what virtue?
For fashioning my self a murderer.
O noble Montague, to whom I owe my heart,
With all my best thoughts, though my tongue have promis'd
To exceed the malice of thy destiny,
Never in time of all my service knew I
Such a sin tempt thy bounty; those that did feed
Upon thy charge had merit or else need.

Enter Laverdine, and La-poope, with disguises.

Lav. Duboys, most prosperously met.

Dub. How now? will he come this way?

La. This way, immediately; therefore thy assistance, dear Duboys.

Dub. What have you cheated him of the money you spoke of?

Lav. Fough, as easily as a silly Countrey wench of her maydenhead; we had it in a twinkling.

Dub. 'Tis well Captain, let me help you, you must be our leader in this action.

La-p. Tut, fear not, I'll warrant you if my Sword hold, we'll make no sweating sickness of it.

Dub. Why that's well said, but let's retire a little, that we may come on the more bravely; this way, this way. [Exeunt.

Enter Montague in the hands of three Officers, and three Creditors.

1 Cre. Officers look to him, and be sure you take good security before he part from you.

Mont. Why but my friends, you take a strange course with me; the sums I owe you are rather forgetfulness, they are so slight, than want of will or honesty to pay you.

1 Cred. I Sir, it may be so; but we must be paid, and we will be paid before you scape: we have wife and children, and a charge, and you are going down the wind, as a man may say; and therefore it behooves us to look to't in time.

2 Cred. Your cloak here wou'd satisfie me, mine's not above a three pound matter, besides the arrest.

3 Cred. 'Faith and mine is much about that matter too; your Girdle and Hangers, and your Beaver, shall be sufficient bail for't.

1 Cred. If you have ever a plain black sute at home, this Silken one, with your Silke-stockings, Garters, and Roses shall pacifie me too; for I take no delight, if I have a sufficient pawn, to cast any Gentleman in prison; therefore 'tis but an untrussing matter: and you are free, we are no unreasonable creatures you see; for mine own part, I protest I am loth to put you to any trouble for security.

Mont. Is there no more of you? he wou'd next demand my skin.

1 Cred. No Sir, here's no more of us, nor do any of us demand your skin, we know not what to do with it: but it may be if you ow'd your Glover any money, he knew what use to make of it.

Mont. Ye dregs of baseness, vultures amongst men,
That tyre upon the hearts of generous spirits.

1 Cred. You do us wrong Sir, we tyre no generous spirits, we tyre nothing but our hackneys.

Enter Mallicorne.

Mont. But here comes one made of another piece;
A man well meriting that free born name
Of Citizen; welcome my deliverer, I am falen
Into the hands of blood-hounds, that for a sum
Lesser than their honesties, which is nothing,
Wou'd tear me out of my skin.

Mal. Why Sir, what's the matter?

1 Cre. Why Sir the matter is, that we must have our money, which if we cannot have, we'll satisfie our selves with his carcass, and be payd that wayes: you had as good Sir, not have been so peremptory. Officer, hold fast.

1 Offi. The strenuous fist of vengeance now is clutcht; therefore fear nothing.

Mal. What may be the debt in gross?

Mont. Some forty Crowns, nay rather not so much, 'tis quickly cast.

Mal. 'Tis strange to me, that your estate shou'd have so low an ebb, to stick at such sleight sums: why my friends, you are too strict in your accounts, and call too sudden on this Gentleman, he has hopes left yet to pay you all.

1 Cred. Hopes? I marry; bid him pay his friends with hopes, and pay us with currant Coyn: I knew a gallant once that fed his creditors still with hopes, and bid 'em they shou'd fear nothing, for he had 'em tyed in a string; and trust me so he had indeed, for at last he and all his hopes hopt in a halter.

Mont. Good Sir, with what speed you may, free me out of the company of these slaves, that have nothing but their names to show 'em men.

Mal. What wou'd you wish me do Sir? I protest I ha' not the present sum (small as it is) to lay down for you; and for giving my word, my friends no later than yesternight made me take bread and eat it, that I shou'd not do it for any man breathing i'th' world; therefore I pray hold me excused.

Mont. You do not speak this seriously?

Mal. As ever I said my prayers, I protest to you.

Mont. What may I think of this?

Mal. Troth Sir thought is free for any man; we abuse our betters in it, I have done it my self.

Mont. Trust me, this speech of yours doth much amaze me; pray leave this language, and out of that same sum you lately did receive of me, lay down as much as may discharge me.

Mal. You are a merry man Sir, and I am glad you take your crosses so temperately; fare you well Sir, and yet I have something more to say to ye, a word in your ear I pray; to be plain with you I did lay this plot to arrest you to enjoy this money I have of yours, with the more safety. I am a fool to tel[l] you this now; but in good faith I could not keep it in. And the money wou'd a done me little good else. An honest Citizen cannot wholly enjoy his own wife for you, they grow old before they have true use of them, which is a lamentable thing, and truely much hardens the hearts of us Citizens against you: I can say no more, but am heartily sorry for your heaviness, and so I take my leave. [Exit Mallycorne.

1 Cred. Officers take hold on him again, for Mounsier Mallycorne will do nothing for him I perceive.

Enter Duboys, Lapoope, and Laverdine.

Dub. Nay come my masters, leave dancing of the old measures, and let's assault him bravely.

Lav. By no means; for it goes against my stomach to kill a man in an unjust quarrell.

La-p. It must needs be a clog to a mans conscience all his life time.

Lav. It must indeed Captain: besides doe ye not see he has gotten a guard of friends about him, as if he had some knowledge of our purpose?

Dub. Had he a guard of Devils, as I think them little better, my Sword should doe the message that it came for.

Lav. If you will be so desperate, the blood lie upon your own neck, for we'll not meddle in't.

Duboys runs upon Montague, and strugling yields him his Sword; the Officers draw, Laverdine and La-poope in the scuffling retire, Montague chaseth them off the Stage, himself wounded.

Dub. I am your friend and servant.
Struggle with me and take my Sword;
Noble Sir, make your way, you have slain an Officer.

Mont. Some one of them has certainly
Requited me; for I doe lose much blood.

1 Offic. Udsprecious, we have lost a brother, pursue the Gentleman.

2 Offic. I'll not meddle with him: you see what comes on't; besides I know he will be hang'd ere he be taken.

1 Offic. I tell thee yeoman he must be taken ere he be hanged; he is hurt in the guts, run afore therefore and know how his wife will rate his Sawsages a pound.

3 Offic. Stay brother, I may live, for surely I find I'm but hurt in the leg, a dangerous kick on the shin-bone. [Exeunt.

---

Actus Tertius. Scæna Prima.

Enter Madam Lamira, Madam le Orleans, Veramour.

Lam. You see Lady
What harmless sports ou[r] Countrey life affords;
And though you meet not here with City dainties,
Or Courtly entertainment, what you have
Is free and hearty.

L. Orl. Madam, I find here
What is a stranger to the Court, content,
And receive curtesies done for themselves,
Without an expectation of return,
Which binds me to your service.

Lam. Oh your love;
My homely house built more for use than shew
Observes the Golden mean equally distant
From glittering pomp, and sordid avarice;
For Maskes, we will observe the works of nature,
And in the place of visitation, read:
Our Physick shall be wholsome walks, our viands,
Nourishing, not provoking: for I find
Pleasures are tortures that leave stings behind.

L. Orl. You have a great estate.

Lam. A competency
Sufficient to maintain me and my rank,
Nor am I, I thank Heaven, so Courtly bred
As to imploy the utmost of my Rents
In paying Tailors for phantastick Robes;
Or rather than be second in the fashion,
Eat out my Officers and my Revenues
With grating usury; my back shall not
Be the base on which your soothing Citizen
Erects his Summer-houses; nor on th' other side
Will I be so penuriously wise,
As to make money (that's my slave) my Idoll,
Which yet to wrong, merits as much reproof,
As to abuse our servant.

L. Orl. Yet with your pardon
I think you want the Crown of all contentment.

Lam. In what good Madam?

L. Orl. In a worthy husband.

Lam. —— It is strange the galley-slave should praise
His Oar, or stroaks; or you, that have made shipwrack
Of all delight upon this Rock, cal'd marriage,
Should sing Encomions on't.

L. Orl. Madam, though one fall
From his horse and break his neck, will you
Conclude from that it is unfit to ride?
Or must it follow, because Orleans
My Lord's pleased to make his passionate triall
Of my suspected patience, that my brother,
(Were he not so, I might say, worthy Amiens)
Will imitate his ills, that cannot fancy
What's truely Noble in him?

Lam. I must grant
There's as much worth in him as can be lookt for
From a young Lord, but not enough to make
Me change my golden liberty and consent
To be a servant to it, as wives are
To the Imperious humors of their Lords:
Me thinks I'm well, I rise and goe to bed
When I think fit, eat what my appetite
Desires without controle, my servants study
Is my contentment, and to make me merry
Their farthest ayms; my sleeps are enquired after,
My rising up saluted with respect:
Command and liberty now wait upon
My Virgin state; what would I more; change all,
And for a husband? no; these freedoms die,
In which they live with my Virginity;
'Tis in their choice that's rich to be a wife,
But not being yoakt to chuse the single life.

Ver. Madam.

Lam. How like you the Countrey?

Ver. I like the ayr of it well Madam, and the rather because, as on Irish Timber your Spider will not make his web, so for ought I see yet your Cheater, Pander, and Informer being in their dispositions too foggy for this piercing climate, shun it, and chose rather to walk in mists in the City.

Lam. Who did you serve first boy?

Ver. A rich Merchants widow, and was by her preferred to a young Court-Lady.

L. Orl. And what difference found you in their service?

Ver. Very much: for look how much my old City Madam gave to her young visitants, so much my Lady received from her hoary Court-servants.

Lam. And what made you to leave her?

Ver. My father (Madam) had a desire to have me a tall-man, took me from thence.

Lam. Well, I perceive you inherit the wag, from your father.

Ver. Doves beget Doves; and Eagles, Eagles, Madam: A Citizen here, tho left never so rich, seldome at the best proves a Gentleman: the son of an Advocate, tho dub'd like his father, will shew a relish of his descent, and the fathers thriving practice, as I have heard: she that of a Chambermayd is metamorphosed into a Madam, will yet remember how oft her daughter by her mother ventured to lie upon the rushes before she could get in that which makes many Ladyes.

L. Orl. But what think you of your late Master?

Ver. Oh Madam— [Sighs.

Lam. Why doe you sigh? you are sorry that you left him,
He made a wanton of you.

Ver. Not for that:
Or if he did, for that my youth must love him.
Oh pardon me, if I say liberty
Is bondage, if compar'd with his kind service;
And but to have power now to speak his worth
To its desert; I should be well content
To be an old man when his praise were ended:
And yet, if at this instant you were pleased,
I should begin, the livery of age
Would take his lodging upon this head
Ere I should bring it to a period.
In brief he is a man (for [God] forbid
That I should ever live to say he was
Of such a shape as would make one beloved,
That never had good thought;) and to his body
He hath a mind of such a constant temper
In which virtues throng to have a room:
Yet 'gainst this noble Gentleman, this Montague,
For in that name I comprehend all goodness,
Wrong, and the wrested law, false witnesses,
And envy sent from hell, have rose in Armes,
And though not pierc'd, batter'd his honor'd shield.
What shall I say? I hope you will forgive me,
That if you were but pleas'd to love,
I know no Juno worthy such a Jove.

Enter Charlot with a letter.

Lam. 'Tis well yet that I have the second place
In your affection: From whence?

Charl. From the Lord Amiens, Madam.

Lam. 'Tis wellcome, though it bear his usual language:
I thought so much, his love-suit speaks his health.
What's he that brought it?

Charl. A Gentleman of good rank, it seems.

Lam. Where is he?

Charl. Receiving entertainment in your house
Sorting with his degree.

Lam. 'Tis well.

Charl. He waits your Ladyships pleasure.

Lam. He shall not wait long:
I'll leave you for a while; nay stay you boy,
Attend the Lady. [Exeunt Lam. Charl.

Vir. Would I might live once
To wait on my poor Master.

L. Orl. That's a good boy:
This thankfulness looks lovely on thy forehead,
And in it, as a book, me thinks I read
Instructions for my self, that am his debtor,
And wou'd do much that I might be so happy
To repair that which to our grief is ruin'd.

Vir. It were a work a King might glory in,
If he saw with my eyes: If you please Madam,
For sure to me you seem unapt to walk,
To sit, although the churlish Birds deny
To give us musick in this grove, where they
Are prodigall to others: I'll strain my voyce
For a sad Song, the place is safe and private.

L. Orl. 'Twas my desire; begin good Viramour.

Musick, a Song, at the end of it enter Montague, fainting, his Sword drawn.

L. Orl. What's he Viramour?

Vir. A goodly personage.

Mont. Am I yet safe? or is my flight a dream?
My wounds and hunger tell me that I wake:
Whither have my fears born me? no matter where,
Who hath no place to goe to, cannot err:
What shall I do? cunning calamity!
That others gross wits uses to refine,
When I most need it duls the edg of mine.

L. Orl. Is not this Montagues voyce?

Vir. My Masters? fie.

Mont. What sound was that, 'pish,
Fear makes the wretch think every leaf oth' Jury:
What course to live, 'beg? better men have done it,
But in another kind: steal? Alexander
Though stil'd a Conqueror, was a proud thief,
Though he rob'd with an Army; fie how idle
These meditations are: though thou art worse
Than sorrows tongue can speak thee, thou art still,
Or shouldst be, honest Montague.

L. Orl. 'Tis too true.

Vir. 'Tis he: what villains hands did this? oh that my flesh
Were Balm; in faith Sir, I would pluck it off
As readily as this; pray you accept
My will to do you service: I have heard
The Mouse once sav'd the Lyon in his need,
As the poor Scarab spild the Eagles seed.

L. Orl. How do you?

Mont. As a forsaken man.

L. Orl. Do not say so, take comfort,
For your misfortunes have been kind in this,
To cast you on a hospitable shoar,
Where dwels a Lady—

Vir. She to whom, good Master,
You prefer'd me.

L. Orl. In whose house, whatsoere
Your dangers are, I'll undertake your safety.

Mont. I fear that I am pursued, and doubt that I,
In my defence have kild an Officer.

Vir. Is that all? there's no law under the Sun
But will I hope confess, one drop of blood
Shed from this arme is recompence enough
Though you had cut the throats of all the Catchpoles
In France, nay in the world.

Mont. I would be loth
To be a burthen, or feed like a drone
On the industrious labor of a Bee,
And baser far I hold it to owe for
The bread I eat, what's not in me to pay;
Then since my full fortunes are declin'd,
To their low ebb I'll fashion my high mind.
It was no shame to Hecuba, to serve
When Troy was fir'd: if't be in your power
To be a means to make her entertainment,
And far from that I was; but to supply
My want with habit fit for him that serves,
I shall owe much to you.

L. Orl. Leave that care to me.

Vir. Good Sir, lean on my shoulder; help good Madam: oh that I were a horse for half an hour, that I might carry you home on my back: I hope you wll love me still?

Mont. Thou dost deserve it boy, that I should live
To be thus troublesome.

L. Orl. Good Sir, 'tis none.

Vir. Trouble? most willingly I would be chang'd
Like Apuleius, weare his Asses ears,
Provided I might still this burthen bear.

L. Orl. 'Tis a kind boy.

Mont. I find true proof of it. [Exeunt.

Enter Amiens, and Longeville, with a Paper.

Ami. You'll carry it.

Long. As I live although my packet were like Bellerophon's, what have you seen in me or my behavior since your favors so plentifully showr'd upon my wants, that may beget distrust of my p[er]formance?

Ami. Nay, be not angry, if I entertained
But the least scruple of your love, or courage,
I would make choyce of one which my estate
Should do me right in this, nor can you blame me
If in a matter of such consequence
I am so importunate.

Long. Good my Lord let me prevent your farther conjurations
To rayse my spirit, I know this is a challenge
To be delivered unto Orlean[c]e hand,
And that my undertaking ends not there,
But I must be your second, and in that
Not alone search your enemy, measure weapons,
But stand in all your hazards, as our blouds
Ran in the self-same veins, in which if I
Better not your opinion, as a limb
That's putrifi'd and useless, cut me off,
And underneath the Gallows bury it.

Ami. At full you understand me, and in this
Bind me, and what's mine to you and yours,
I will not so much wrong you as to add
One syllable more, let it suffice I leave
My honor to your guard: and in that prove,
You hold the first place in my heart and love. [Ex. Ami.

Long. The first place in a Lords affection? very good; and how long doth that last? perhaps the changing of some three shirts in the Tennis-Court; well, it were very necessary that an order were taken (if it were possible,) that younger brothers might have more wit, or more money: for now, however the fool hath long been put upon him that inherits, his revenue hath bought him a spunge, and wip't off the imputation, and for the understanding of the younger, let him get as much Rhetorick as he can, to grace his language.

Enter Dubois.

They will see, he shall have gloss little enough to set out his Bark; stand Dubois, look about, 's all safe?

Dub. Approach not near me but with reverence Lawrel and adorations, I have done more than deserves a hundred thanks.

Long. How now, what's the matter?

Dub. With this hand, only aided by this brain,
Without an Orpheus Harp redeem'd from Hells
Three headed Porter, our Euridice.

Long. Nay, prethee speak sence, this is like the stale bragart in a Play.

Dub. Then in plain Prose thus, and with as little action as thou canst desire, the three headed Porter, were three unexorable Catch-poles, out of whose jaws without the help of Orpheus Harp, bait or bribe; for those two strings make the Musick, that molifies those flinty furies, I rescued our Euridice, I mean my old Master Montague.

Long. And is this all? a poor rescue; I thought thou hadst revers'd the judgement for his overthrow in his sute, or wrought upon his adversary Orleance, taken the shape of a Ghost, frighted his mind into distraction, and for the appeasing of his conscience, forc'd him to make restitution of Montague's Lands, or such like rescue; S'light I would have hired Acrocheture for two Cardekues, to have done so much with his whip.

Dub. You wood Sir, and yet 'tis more than three on their foot-cloaths durst do for a sworn Brother, in a Coach.

Long. Besides, what proof's of it? for ought I know, this may be a trick, I had rather have him a prisoner, where I might visit him, and do him service, than not at all, or I know not where.

Dub. Well Sir, the end will shew it, what's that, a challenge?

Long. Yes, where's Orleance? though we fight in jest, he must meet with Amiens in earnest,—fall off, we are discovered; my horse garson; ha!

Dub. Were it not in a house, and in his presence,
To whom I owe all duty—

Long. What would it do? prate as it does? but be as far from striking, as he that owes it Orleance.

Dub. How?

Long. I think thou art his Porter,
Set here to answer creditors, that his Lordship
Is not within, or takes the diet: I am sent,
And will grow here until I have an answer,
Not to demand a debt of money, but
To call him to a strict account for wrong
Done to the honors of a Gentleman,
Which nothing but his heart-bloud shall wash off.

Dub. Shall I hear this?

Long. And more, that if [I] may not
Have access to him, I will fix this here
To his disgrace and thine.

Dub. And thy life with it.

Long. Then have the copies of it pasted on posts,
Like Pamphlet Titles, that sue to be sold;
Have his disgrace talk for Tobacco-shops,
His picture baffled.

Dub. All respect away, wer't in a Church— [draw both.

Long. This is the Book I pray with.

Enter Orleance.

Orl. Forbear upon your lives.

Long. What are you rouz'd? I hope your Lordship can read (though he stain not his birth with Scholar-ship) doth it not please you now? if you are a right Mounsieur, muster up the rest of your attendance, which is a Page, a Cook, a Pander, Coach-man, and a Footman, in these days a great Lords train, pretending I am unworthy to bring you a challenge, instead of answering it, have me kick'd.

Dub. If he does, thou deserv'st it.

Long. I dare you all to touch me, I'll not stand still,
What answer?

Orl. That thou hast done to Amiens
The office of a faithful friend, which I
Would cherish in thee, were he not my foe,
How ever since on honourable terms
He calls me forth, say I will meet with him,
And by Dubois e'r Sun-set make him know
The time and place, my swords length, and what ever
Scruple of circumstance he can expect.

Long. This answer comes unlookt for, fare you well,
Finding your temper thus, wou'd I had said less. [Exit.

Orl. Now comes thy love to the test.

Dub. My Lord, 'twill hold,
And in all dangers prove it self true Gold. [Exeunt.

Enter Laverdine, La-poop, Malicorn, servant.

Ser. I will acquaint my Lady with your coming.
Please you repose your selves here.

Mal. There's a Tester, nay, now I am a wooer, I must be bountiful.

Ser. If you would have two three-pences for it Sir, To give some of your kindred as you ride, I'll see if I can get them; we use not (tho servants) to take bribes. [Ex.

Lav. Then thou art unfit to be in office, either in Court or City.

La-p. Indeed, corruption is a Tree, whose branches are of an unmeasurable length, they spread every where, and the dew, that drops from thence, hath infected some chairs and stools of authority.

Mal. Ah Captain! lay not all the fault upon Officers, you know you can shark, tho you be out of action, witness Montague.

Lav. Hang him, he's safe enough; you had a hand in it too, and have gained by him; but I wonder you Citizens, that keep so many books, and take such strict accounts for every farthing due to you from others, reserve not so much as a memorandum for the courtesies you receive.

Mal. Would you have a Citizen book those? thankfulness is a thing, we are not sworn to in our Indentures: you may as well urge conscience.

Lav. Talk no more of such vanities, Mountague is irrecoverably sunk, I would we had twenty more to send after him; the Snake that would be a Dragon, and have wings, must eat; and what implies that, but this, that in this Cannibal age, he that would have the sute of wealth, must not care —— whom he feeds on? and as I have heard, no flesh battens better, then that of a profest friend; and he that would mount to honor, must not make dainty to use the head of his mother, back of his Father, or neck of his Brother, for ladders to his preferment; for, but observe, and you shall find for the most part, cunning villany sit at a Feast as principal guest, and innocent honesty wait as a contemn'd servant with a trencher.

La-p. The Ladies.

Enter Montague bare-headed, Lamira, Lady Orleance, Charlotte a[n]d V[e]ramour.

Mont. Do ye smell nothing?

Char. Not I Sir.

Mont. The carrion of knaves is very strong in my nostrils.

Lav. We came to admire, and find Fame was a niggard,
Which we thought prodigal in our report
Before we saw you.

Lam. Tush Sir, this Courtship's old.

La-p. I'll fight for thee, sweet wench,
This is my tongue, and woes for me.

Lam. Good man of War,
Hands off; if you take me, it must be by siege,
Not by an onset; and for your valour, I
Think that I have de[ser]ved few enemies,
And therefore need it not.

Mal. Thou need'st nothing, sweet Lady, but an obsequious husband, and where wilt thou find him, if not in the City? We are true Muscovites to our Wives, and are never better pleased, than when they use us as slaves, bridle and Saddle us; Have me, thou shalt command all my wealth as thine own, thou shalt sit like a Queen in my Ware-house; And my Factors at the return with my ships, shall pay thee tribute of all the rarities of the earth; thou shalt wear gold, feed on delicates, the first Peascods, Strawberries, Grapes, Cherries shall—

Lam. Be mine; I apprehend what you would say,
Those dainties which the City pays so dear for,
The Countrey yields for nothing, and as early;
And, credit me, your far-fet viands please not
My appetite better than those that are near hand.
Then for your promis'd service and subjection
To all my humors, when I am your wife,
Which [as] it seems, is frequent in the City,
I cannot find what pleasure they receive
In using their fond Husbands like their Maids;
But of this, more hereafter: I accept
Your proffer kindly, and yours; my house stands open
To entertain you, take your pleasure in it,
And ease after your journey.

La. Orl. Do you note the boldness of the fellows?

Lam. Alas Madam, a Virgin must in this be like a Lawyer,
And as he takes all Fees; she must hear all suitors; the
One for gain, the other for her mirth; stay with the
Gentlemen, we'll to the Orchards.

[Exeunt Lamira, Lady Orleance, Vera. and Charl.

La-p. —— What art thou?

Mont. An honest man, though poor;
And look they like to monsters, are they so rare?

Lav. Rose from the dead.

Mal. Do you hear Monsieur Serviture, didst thou never hear of one Montague, a prodigal gull, that lives about Paris?

Mont. So Sir.

Lav. One that after the loss of his main estate in a Lawsute, bought an Office in the Court.

La-p. And should have Letters of Mart, to have the Spanish treasure as it came from the Indies; were not thou and he twins? put off thy Hat, let me see thy Fore-head.

Mont. Though you take priviledge to use your tongue,
I pray you hold your fingers,
'Twas your base cozenag[e] made me as I am:
And were you somewhere else, I would take off
This proud film from your eyes, that will not let you,
Know I am Montague.

Enter Lamira behind the Arras.

Lam. I will observe this better.

Lav. And art thou he? I will do thee grace; give me thy hand: I am glad thou hast taken so good a course; serve God, and please thy Mistriss; if I prove to be thy Master, as I am very like[l]y, I will do for thee.

Mal. Faith the fellow's well made for a Serving-man, and will no doubt, carry a chine of Beef with a good grace.

La-p. Prethee be careful of me in my chamber, I will remember thee at my departure.

Mont. All this I can endure under this roof,
And so much owe I her, whose now I am,
That no wrong shall incense me to molest,
Her quiet house, while you continue here,
I will not be ashamed to do you service
More than to her, because such is her pleasure.
But you that have broke thrice, and fourteen times
Compounded for two shillings in the pound,
Know I dare kick you in your shop; do you hear?
If ever I see Paris, though an Army
Of musty Murrions, rusty brown Bills and Clubs,
Stand for your guard—I have heard of your tricks,
And you that smell of Amber at my charge,
And triumph in your cheat; well, I may live
To meet thee, be it among a troop of such
That are upon the fair face of the Court
Like running Ulcers, and before thy whore
Trampel upon thee.

La-p. This a language for a Livery? take heed, I am a Captain.

Mont. A Coxcomb are you not? that thou and I,
To give proof, which of us dares most, were now
In midst of a rough Sea, upon a piece
Of a split Ship, where only one might ride,

[Lamira from the Arras.

I would—but foolish anger makes me talk
Like a Player.

Lam. Indeed you act a part
Doth ill become you my servant; is this your duty?

Mont. I crave your pardon, and will hereafter be more circumspect.

Lav. Oh the power of a Womans tongue: it hath done more than we three with our swords durst undertake; put a mad man to silence.

Lam. Why sirrah, these are none of your comrades
To drink with in the Cellar; one of them
For ought you know, may live to be your Master.

La-p. There's some comfort yet.

Lam. Here's choice of three, a wealthy Merchant.

Mal. Hem, she's taken, she hath spy'd my good Calf,
And many Ladies chuse their Husbands by that.

Lam. A Courtier that's in grace, a valiant Captain,
And are these mates for you, away, begone.

Mont. I humbly pray you will be pleased to pardon,
And to give satisfaction to you Madam,
(Although I break my heart) I will confess
That I have wrong'd them too, and make submission.

Lam. No I'll spare that; go bid the Cook haste supper. [Exit Mont.

La-p. Oh brave Lady, thou art worthy to have servants, to be commandress of a Family, that knowest how to use and govern it.

Lav. You shall have many Mistresses that will so mistake, as to take their Horse-keepers, and Footmen instead of their Husbands, thou art none of those.

Mal. But she that can make distinction of men, and knows when she hath gallants, and fellows of rank and quality in her house—

Lam. Gallants indeed, if it be the Gallants fashion
To triumph in the miseries of a man,
Of which they are the cause: one that transcends
(In spight of all that fortune hath, or can be done)
A million of such things as you, my doors
Stand open to receive all such as wear
The shape of Gentlemen, and my gentler nature
(I might say weaker) weighs not the expence
Of entertainment; think you I'll forget yet
What's due unto my self? do not I know,
That you have dealt with poor Montague, but like
Needy Commanders, cheating Citizens,
And perjur'd Courtiers? I am much mov'd, else use not
To say so much, if you will bear your selves
As fits such, you would make me think you are,
You may stay; if not, the way lies before you. [Exit.

Mal. What think you of this Captain?

La-p. That this is a bawdy-house, with Pinacles and Turrets, in which this disguised Montague goes to Rut gratis, and that this is a landed pandress, and makes her house a brothel for charity.

Mal. Come, that's no miracle; but from whence derive you the supposition?

Lav. Observe but the circumstance; you all know that in the height of Mountagues prosperity, he did affect, and had his love return'd by this Lady Orleans; since her divorcement, and his decay of estate, it is known they have met, not so much as his boy [is] wanting; and that this can be any thing else than a meer plot for their night-work, is above my imagination to conceive.

Mal. Nay, it carries probability, let us observe it better, but yet with such caution, as our prying be not discovered; here's all things to be had without cost, and therefore good staying here.

La-p. Nay, that's true, I would we might wooe her twenty years, like Penelopes sutors; come Laverdine.

[Exeunt Malli. La Poop.

Lav. I follow instantly, yonder he is.

Enter Viramor.

The thought of this boy hath much cool'd my affection to his Lady, and by all conjectures, this is a disguised whore; I will try if I can search this Mine, Page—

Ver. Your pleasure, Sir?

Lav. Thou art a pretty boy.

Ver. And you a brave man: now I am out of your debt.

Lav. Nay, prethee stay.

Ver. I am in haste, Sir.

Lav. By the faith of a Courtier.

Ver. Take heed what you say, you have taken a strange oath.

Lav. I have not seen a youth that hath pleased me better; I would thou couldst li[k]e me, so far as to leave thy Lady and wait on me, I would maintain thee in the bravest cloaths.

Ver. Though you took them up on trust, or bought 'em at the Brokers.

Lav. Or any way: then thy imployments should be so neat and cleanly, thou shouldst not touch a pair of pantables in a month, and thy lodging—

Ver. Should be in a brothel.

Lav. No, but in mine arms.

Ver. That may be the circle of a Bawdy-house, or worse.

Lav. I mean thou should'st lye with me.

Ver. Lie with you? I had rather lye with my Ladies Monkey; 'twas never a good world, since our French Lords learned of the Neapolitans, to make their Pages their Bed-fellows, doth more hurt to the Suburb Ladies, than twenty dead vacations; 'Tis supper time, Sir. [Exit Veram.

Lav. I thought so, I know by that 'tis a woman, for because, peradventure she hath made trial of the Monkey, she prefers him before me, as one unknown; well, these are standing creatures, and have strange desires; and men must use strange means to quenc[h] strange fires. [Exit.

---

Actus Quartus. Scæna Prima.

Enter Montague alone in mean habit.

Mont. Now Montague, who discerns thy spirit now?
Thy breeding, or thy bloud? here's a poor cloud
Eclipseth all thy splendor; who can read
In thy pale face, dead eye, or lenten shute,
The liberty thy ever-giving hand
Hath bought for others, manacling it self
In gyves of parchment indissoluble?
The greatest hearted man supplyed with means,
Nobility of birth and gentlest parts,
I thought the right hand of his Sovereign,
If virtue quit her seat in his high soul,
Glitters but like a Palace set on fire,
Whose glory whilst it shines, but ruins him,
And his bright show each hour to ashes tending
Shall at the last be rak'd up like a sparkle,
Unless mens lives and fortunes feed the flame.
Not for my own wants, though blame I my Stars,
But suffering others to cast love on me,
When I can neither take, nor thankful be.
My Ladies woman, fair and virtuous
Young as the present month, sollicites me
For love and marriage now being nothing worth—

Enter Veramour.

Ver. Oh! Master, I have sought you a long hour,
Good faith, I never joy'd out of your sight;
For Heavens sake, Sir, be merry, or else bear
The buffets of your fortunes with more scorn;
Do but begin to rail, teach me the way,
And I'll sit down, and help your anger forth:
I have known you wear a suit; full worth a Lordship,
Give to a man whose need ne'er frighted you
From calling of him friend, five hundred Crowns
E'er sleep had left your sences to consider
Your own important present uses; yet
Since I have seen you with a t[r]encher wait,
Void of all scorn, therefore I'll wait on you.

Mont. Would [God] thou wert less honest.

Ver. Would to [God] you were less worthy: I am ev'n w'e Sir.

Mon. Is not thy Master strangely fall'n, when thou
Servest for no wages, but for charity?
Thou dost surcharge me with thy plenteous love:
The goodness of thy virtue shown to me,
More opens still my disability
To quit thy pains: credit me loving boy,
A free and honest nature may be opprest,
Tir'd with courtesies from a liberal spirit,
When they exceed his means of gratitude.

Ver. But 'tis a due in him that to that end
Extends his love or duty.

Mont. Little world
Of virtue, why dost love and follow me?

Ver. I will follow you through all Countreys,
I'll run (fast as I can) by your horse side,
I'll hold your stirrop when you do alight,
And without grudging, wait till you return:
I'll quit offer'd means, and expose my self
To cold and hunger, still to be with you;
Fearless I'll travel through a wilderness,
And when you are weary, I will lay me down
That in my bosom you may rest your head,
Where whilst you sleep, I'll watch, that no wild beast
Shall hurt or trouble you: and thus we'll breed a story
To make every hearer weep,
When they discorse our fortunes and our loves.

Mont. Oh what a scoff might men of women make,
If they did know this boy? but my desire
Is, that thou wouldest not (as thou usest still:
When like a servant, I 'mong servants sit)
Wait on my Trencher, fill my cups with Wine:
Why should'st thou do this boy? prethee consider,
I am not what I was.

Ver. Curst be the day when I forget that Montague was my Lord, or not remember him my Master still.

Mont. Rather curse me, with whom thy youth hath spent,
So many hours, and yet untaught to live
By any worldly quality.

Ver. Indeed you never taught me how to handle Cards
To cheat and cozen men with oaths and lies:
Those are the worldly qualities to live:
Some of our scarlet Gallants teach their boys
These worldly qualities.
Since stumbling fortune then leaves virtue thus
Let me leave fortune, e'r be vicious.

Mon. Oh lad, thy love will kill me.

Ver. In truth, I think in conscience [I] shall dye for you:
Good Master weep not, do you want aught, Sir?
Will you have any money, here's some Silver;
And here's a little Gold, 'twill serve to play,
And put more troublesome thoughts out of your mind:
I pray Sir take it, I'll get more with singing.
And then I'll bring it you, my Lady ga't me,
And—it was not covetousness,
But I forgot to tell you sooner on't.

Mont. Alas boy, thou art not bound to tell it me,
And less to give it, buy thee Scarfs and Garters,
And when I have money, I will give thee a sword:
Nature made thee a beauteous Cabinet
To lock up [all] the goodness of the earth.

Enter Charlote.

Ver. I have lost my voice with the very sight of this Gentlewoman: good Sir steal away, you were wont to be a curious avoider of womens company.

Mont. Why boy, thou dar'st trust me any where, dar'st thou not?

Ver. I had rather trust you by a roaring Lion, than a ravening woman.

Mont. Why boy?

Ver. Why truly she devours more mans flesh—

Mont. I, but she roars not boy.

Ver. No Sir, why she is never silent but when her mouth is full.

Charl. Monsieur Montague.

Mont. My sweet fellow, since you please to call me so.

Ver. Ah my conscience, she wou'd be pleas'd well enough to call you bed-fellow: oh Master, do not hold her by the hand so: a woman is a Lime-bush, that catcheth all she toucheth.

Charl. I do most dangerously suspect this boy to be a wench; art thou not one? come hither, let me feel thee.

Ver. With all my heart.

Charl. Why dost thou pull off thy Glove?

Ver. Why, to feel whether you be a boy, or no.

Charl. Fie boy, go too. I'll not look your head, nor comb your locks any more, if you talk thus.

Ver. Why, I'll sing to you no more then.

Charl. Fie upon't, how sad you are! a young Gentleman that was the very Sun of France.

Mont. But I am in the eclipse now.

Cha[r]l. Suffer himself to be over-run with a Lethargy of melancholy and discontent! rouze up thy spirit, man, and shake it off:

A Noble Soul is like a Ship at Sea,
That sleeps at Anchor when the Ocean's calm;
But when she rages, and the wind blows high,
He cuts his way with skill and Majesty.
I would turn a Fool, or Poet, or any thing, or marry, to
make you merry; prethee let's walk: good Veramour, leave
thy Master and me, I have earnest business with him.

Ver. Pray do you leave my Master, and me: we were very merry before you came, he does not covet womens company.

What have you to do with him? come Sir will you go?
And I'll sing to you again:

I'faith his mind is stronger than to credit Womens vows, and too pure to be capable of their loves.

Charl. The boy is jealos, sweet lad leave us: my Lady call'd for you I swear: that's a good child, there's a piece of Gold for thee, go buy a Feather.

Ver. There's two pieces for you, do you go and buy one, or what you will, or nothing, so you go. Nay then I see you would have me go, Sir; why, I'faith I will, now I perceive you love her better than you do me; but [God] bless you whatever you do, or intend, I know you are a very honest man. [Exit.

Charl. Still [shall] I wooe thee, whilst thy ears reply
I cannot, or I will not marry thee?
Why hast thou drawn the bloud out of my cheeks,
And given a quicker motion to my heart?
Oh thou hast bred a Feaver in my veins
Call'd love, which no Physitian can cure;
Have mercy on a Maid, whose simple youth—

Mont. How your example, fairest, teacheth me
A ceremonious Idolatry! [Kneels.
By all the joy of love, I love thee better,
Than I or any man can tell another;
And will express the mercy which thou crav'st,
I will forbear to marry thee: consider
Thou art Nature's heir in feature, and thy parents,
In fair Inheritances; rise with these thoughts,
And look on me; but with a womans eye,
A decaid fellow, void of means and spirit.

Charl. Of spirit?

Mont. Yes, could I tamely live,
Forget my Fathers bloud, wait, and make legs,
Stain my best breeches, with the servile drops
That fall from others draughts.

Charl. This vizard wherewith thou wouldst hide thy spirit,
Is perspective, to shew it plainlier.
This undervalue of thy life, is but
Because I should not buy thee, what more speaks
Greatness of man, than valiant patience,
That shrinks not under his fates strongest strokes?
These Roman deaths, as falling on a sword,
Opening of veins, with poison quenching thirst,
(Which we erroneously do stile the deeds
Of the heroick and magnanimous man)
Was dead-ey'd cowardize, and white-cheek'd fear,
Who doubting tyranny, and fainting under
Fortunes false Lottery, desperately run
To death, for dread of death; that soul's most stout,
That bearing all mischance, dares last it out;
Will you perform your word, and marry me,
When I shall call you to't?

Enter Longueville with a riding-rod.

Mont. I'faith I will.

Charl. Who's this alights here?

Long. With leave, fair creature, are you the Lady Mistriss of the house?

Charl. Her servant, Sir.

Long. I pray then favour me, to inform your Lady, and Duke Orleans wife,

A business of import awaits 'em here,
And craves for speedy answer.

Charl. Are you in post, Sir?

Long. No, I am in Satin, Lady; I would you would be in post.

Charl. I will return, Sweet. [Exit.

Long. Honest friend, do you belong to the house? I pray be covered.

Mont. Yes Sir, I do.

Long. Ha, dream'st thou Longaville? sure 'tis not he: Sir I should know you.

Mont. So should I you, but that I am asham'd.
But though thou know'st me, prethee Longaville,
Mock not my poverty, pray remember your self;
Shows it not strangely for thy cloaths to stand
Without a Hat to mine? mock me no more.

Long. The —— embroider me all over, Sir,
If ever I began to mock you yet.
The —— on me, why should I wear Velvet
And Silver Lace? —— I will tear it off.

Mont. Why Mad-man?

Long. Put on my Hat? yes, when I am hang'd I will:
---- I could break my head.
For holding eyes that knew not you at first:
But time and fortune run your courses with him,
He'll laugh and storm you, when you shew most hate.

Enter Lamira, Orlean's Lady, Laverdine, La Poop, Malycorn, Veramour, Charlot.

Lam. You're a fair Mounsieur.

Long. Do you mock me, Lady?

Lam. Your business, Sir, I mean.

Lady. Regard your self good Mounsieur Longueville.

Lam. You are too negligent of your self and place,
Cover your head sweet Mounsieur.

Long. Mistake me not fair Ladies,
'Tis not to you, nor you, that I stand bare.

Lav. Nay sweet dear Mounsieur, let it not be to us then.

La Poop. —— A compliment.

Mal. And —— of manners.
Pray hide your head, your gallants use to do't.

Long. And you your foreheads, why you needful accessary rascals,
That cannot live without your mutual knaveries,
More than a Bawd, a Pandor, or a Whore
From one another; how dare you suspect
That I stand bare to you? what make you here?
Shift your house, Lady of 'em, for I know 'em,
They come to steal Napkins, and your Spoons;
Look to your Silver-bodkin, (Gentlewoman)
'Tis a dead Utensil, and Page 'ware your pockets;
My reverence is unto this man, my Master,
Whom you, with protestations, and oaths
As high as Heaven, as deep as Hell, which would
Deceive the wisest man of honest nature,
Have cozen'd and abus'd; but I may meet you,
And beat you one with th' other.

Mont. Peace, no more.

Long. Not a word, Sir.

Lav. I am something thick of hearing; what said he?

La poop. I hear him, but regard him not.

Mal. Nor I, I am never angry fasting.

Long. My love keeps back my duty, noblest Lady;
If Husband or brother merit love from you,
Prevent their dangers, this hour brings to trial
Their hereto sleeping hates; by this time each
Within a yard is of the others heart,
And met to prove their causes and their spirits
With their impartial swords points; haste and save,
Or never meet them more, but at the grave.

Lady. Oh my distracted heart, that my wrackt honor
Should for a Brothers, or a Husbands life, through thy undoing, die.

Lam. Amiens engag'd; if he miscarry all my hopes and joys,
I now confess it loudly, are undone:
Caroch, and haste, one minute may betray
A life more worth than all time can repay.

[Exeunt Ladies and Mont.

Mal. Hump: Monsieur Laverdine pursues this boy extreamly, Captain, what will you do?

La p. Any thing but follow to this Land-service; I am a Sea-Captain you know, and to offer to part 'em, without we could do't like Watermen with long staves, a quarter of a mile off, might be dangerous.

Mal. Why then let's retire and pray for 'em, I am resolv'd to stop your intent; abus'd more than we have been we cannot be, without they fall to flat beating on's.

[Exeunt Maly, La-poop.

Lav. And that were unkindly done i'faith.

Ver. But you are the troulesomest Ass that e'er I met with; retire, you smell like a womans chamber, that's newly up, before she have pinsht her vapours in with her cloaths.

Lav. I will haunt thee like thy Grandames Ghost, thou shalt never rest for me.

Ver. Well, I perceive 'tis vain to conceal a secret from you: believe it Sir, indeed I am a woman.

Lav. Why la; I knew't, this Prophetical tongue of mine never fail'd me; my mother was half a witch, never any thing that she forespake, but came to pass: a woman? how happy am I! now we may lawfully come together without fear of hanging; sweet wench, be gracious, in honourable sort I woe, no otherwise.

Ver. Faith, the truth is, I have loved you long.

Lav. See, see.

Ver. But durst not open it.

Lav. —— I think so.

Ver. But briefly, when you bring it to the test, if there be not one Gentleman in this house, will challenge more interest in me, than you can, I am at your disposure. [Exit.

Lav. Oh Fortunatus, I envy thee not
For Cap, or pouch, this day I'll prove my Fortune,
In which your Lady doth elect her Husband,
Who will e Amiens, 'twill save my wedding dinner,
Povera, La Poop, and Malicorn: if all fail,
I will turn Citizen, a beauteous wife
Is the Horn-book to the richest Tradesmans life. [Exeunt.

Enter Duboys, Orleans, Longueville, Amiens, two Lacques, a Page with two Pistols.

Dub. Here's a good even piece of ground my Lords:
Will you fix here?

Orl. Yes, any where; Lacquey, take off my spurs;
Upon a bridge, a rail, but my swords breadth upon a battlement,
I'll fight this quarrel.

Dub. O' the Ropes, my Lord.

Orl. Upon a Line.

Dub. So all our Countrey Duels are carried, like a firework on a thred.

Orl. Go now, stay with the horses, and, do you hear?
Upon your lives, till some of us come to you,
Dare not to look this way.

Dub. Except you see strangers or others that by chance or purpose are like to interrupt us.

Orl. Then give warning.

Long. Who takes a sword? the advantage is so small,
As he that doubts, hath the free leave to choose.

Orl. Come, give me any, and search me; 'tis not
The ground, weapon, or seconds that can make
Odds in those fatal trials: but the cause.

Ami. Most true, and, but it is no time to wish
When men are come to do, I would desire
The cause 'twixt us were other than it is;
But where the right is, there prevail our Swords.
And if my Sister have out-liv'd her honor,
I do not pray I may out-live her shame.

Orl. Your Sister Amiens, is a whore, at once.

Ami. You oft have spoke that sence to me before,
But never in ths language Orleance;
And when you spoke it fair, and first, I told you
That it was possible you might be abus'd:
But now, since you forget your manners, you shall find,
If I transgress my custom, you do lye,
And are a villain, which I had rather yet
My sword had prov'd, than I been forc'd to speak:
Nay, give us leave, and since you stand so haughtily
And highly on your cause, let you and I,
Without engaging these two Gentlemen, singly determine it.

Long. My Lord, you'll pardon us.

Dub. I trust your Lordships may not do us that affront.

Ami. As how?

Dub. We kiss your Lordships hand, and come to serve you here with swords.

Long. My Lord, we understand our selves.

Dub. We have had the honor to be call'd unto the business, and we must not now quit it on terms.

Ami. Not terms of reason?

Long. No, no [r]eason for the quitting of our calling.

Dub. True, if I be call'd to't I must ask no reason.

Long. Nor hear none neither, which is less:
It is a favour, if my throat be cut,
Your Lordship does me; which I never can,

[A noise-within, crying down with your swords.

Nor must have hope how to requite: what noise?
What cry is that my Lord upon your guard?
So[me] treachery is a foot.

Enter Lady Orleans, Lamira, Montague.

Lady. Oh here they are:
My Lord (dear Lady help me) help me all;
I have so woful interest in both,
I know not which to fear for most: and yet
I must prefer my Lord. Dear brother,
You are too understanding, and too noble
To be offended, when I know my duty,
Though scarce my tears will let me so to do it.

Orl. Out loathed strumpet.

Lady. Oh my dearest Lord,
If words could on me cast the name of whore,
I then were worthy to be loath'd; but know,
Your unkindness cannot make me wicked;
And therefore should less use that power upon me.

Orl. Was this your Art to make these Actors come,
To make this interlude? withdraw, cold man,
And if thy spirit be not frozen up,
Give me one stroke yet at thee for my vengeance.

Ami. Thou shalt have strokes, and strokes, thou glorious man,
Till thou breath'st thinner air than that thou talkest.

Lam. My Lord, Count Amiens.

Lady. Princely Husband.

Orl. Whore.

[Lam.] You wrong her impudent Lord; oh that I had the bulk
Of those dull men; look how they stand, and no man
Will revenge an innocent Lady.

Ami. You hinder it Madam.

Lam. I would hinder you; is there none else to kill him?

Lady. Kill him, Madam? have you learn'd that bad language? oh repent,
And be the motive, rather both kill me.

Orl. Then de my infamy.

Mont. Hold bloody man.

Orl. Art thou there Basilisk?

Mont. To strike thee dead, but that thy fate deserves some weightier hand.

Dub. Sweet my Lord.

Orl. Oh here's a plot; you bring your champions with you; the adultress with the adulterer: Out howling—

Dub. Good my Lord.

Orl. Are you her Graces countenancer, Lady, the receiver to the poor vicious couple.

Dub. Sweet my Lord.

Orl. Sweet rascal, didst not tho tell me, false fellow,
This Montague here was murdered?

Dub. I did so; but he was falser, and a worthless Lord,
Like thy foul self that would have had it so.

Long. Orleance 'tis true, and shall be prov'd upon thee.

Mont. Thy malice Duke, and this thy wicked nature, are all as visible as thou; but I born to contemn thy injuries, do know, that though thy greatness may corrupt a Jury, and make a Judge afraid, and carry out a world of evils with thy Title: yet thou art not quiet at home, thou bearest about thee that, that doth charge thee, and condemn thee too. The thing that grieves me more, and doth indeed displease me, is, to think that so much baseness stands here to have encountred so much honor: Pardon me my Lord, what late my passion spake, when you provok'd my innocence.

Orl. Yes, do, oh! flattery becomes him better than the suit he wears; give him a new one, Amiens.

Ami. Orleance, 'tis here no time nor place, to jest or rail
Poorly with you, but I will find a time to
Whisper you forth to this, or some fit place,
As shall not hold a second interruption.

Mont. I hope your Lordships honor, and your life
Are destined unto higher hazards; this is of
A meaner arm.

Dub. Yes faith, or none.

Long. He is not fit to fall by an honest Sword,
A Prince and lye!

Dub. And slander, and hire men
To publish the false rumours he hath made.

Long. And stick 'em on his friends, and innocents.

Dub. And practice against their lives after their fames.

Long. In men that are the matter of all lewdness,
Bawds, Thieves, and Cheaters, it were monstrous.

Dub. But in a man of bloud, how more conspicuous!

Ami. Can this be?

Lady. They do slander him.

Orl. Hang them, a pair of railing hangbies.

Long. How? stand Orleance; stay, give me my Pistols boy,
Hinder me not, by——
I will kill him.

Lady. Oh, stay his fury.

Ami. Longueville, my friend.

Long. Not for my self, my Lord, but for mankind,
And all that have an interest to virtue,
Or title unto innocence.

Ami. Why hear me.

Long. For justice sake.

Ami. That cannot be.

Long. To punish his wives, your honor, and my Lords wrongs here, whom I must ever call so; for your loves I'll swear I'll sacrifice—

Ami. Longueville, I did not think you a murtherer before.

Long. I care not what you thought me.

Ami. By —— If thou attempt
His life, thy own is forfeit.

Mont. Foolish frantick man, the murder will be of us, not him.

Lady. Oh [God]!

Mont. We could have kill'd him, but we would not take
The justice out of fates.—
Sindge but a hair of him, thou diest.

Long. No matter, shoot.

Ami. Villain.

Dub. My Lord, your Sister is slain.

Ami. Biancha?

Mont. Oh hapless, and most wretched chance.

Lam. Standst thou looking upon the mischief thou hast made?
Thou godless man, feeding thy blood-shot eyes
With the red spectacle, and art not turn'd to stone
With horror? Hence, and take the wings of thy black
Infamy, to carry thee beyond the shoot of looks,
Or sound of curses, which will pursue thee still:
Thou hast out-fled all but thy guilt.

Orl. Oh wish it off again, for I am crack'd
Under the burden, and my heart will break.
How heavy guilt is, when men come to feel
If you could know the mountain I sustain
With horror, you would each take off your part,
And more, to ease me: I cannot stand,
Forgive where I have wrong'd, I pray.

Ami. Look to him Montague.

Long. My Lords and Gentlemen, the Lady is well, but for fear,
Unless that have shot her;
I have the worst on't, that needs would venture
Upon a trick had like to ha' cost my guts:
Look to her, she'll be well, it was but Powder
I charg'd with, thinking that a guilty man
Would have been frighted sooner; but I'm glad
He's come at last.

La[m]. How is Byancha? well?

Ami. Lives she? see Sister, doth she breathe?

Lady. Oh Gentlemen, think you I can breathe,
That am restored to the hateful sense
Of feeling in me my dear husbands death?
Oh no, I live not; life was that I left;
And what you have call'd me to, is death indeed:
I cannot weep so fast as he doth bleed.

Dub. Pardon me, Madam, he is well.

Lady. Ha my Husband.

Orl. I cannot speak whether my joy or shame
Be greater, but I thank the Heavens for both.
Oh look not black upon me, all my friends,
To whom I will be reconcil'd, or grow unto
This earth, till I have wept a trench
That shall be great enough to be my grave,
And I will think them too most manly tears,
If they do move your pities: it is true,
Man should do nothing that he should repent;
But if he have, and say that he is sorry,
It is a worse fault, if he be not truly.

Lam. My Lord, such sorrow cannot be suspected:
Here take your honoured wife, and joyn your hands.
----She hath married you again:
And Gentlemen, I do invite you all,
This night to take my house, where on the morrow,
To heighten more the reconciling feast,
I'll make my self a Husband and a guest. [Exeunt.

---

Actus Quintus. Scæna Prima.

Enter Montague, and Charlotte.

Charl. Well now I am sure you are mine.

Mont. I am sure I am glad
I have one to own then; you'll find me honest
As these days go, enough; poor without question,
Which beggars hold a virtue; give me meat, and I
Shall do my work, else knock my shooes off,
And turn me out again.

Char. You are a merry fellow.

Mont. I have no great cause.

Char. Yes, thy love to me.

Mont. That's as we make our game.

Char. Why, you repent then?

Mont. Faith no worse than I am I cannot be;
Much better I expect not: I shall love you,
And when you bid me go to bed, obey,
Lie still or move, as you shall minister;
Keep a four-Nobles Nag, and a Jack
Merling, learn to love Ale, and play at Two-hand Irish,
And there's then all I aim at.

Char. Nay sweet fellow, I'll make it something better.

Mont. If you do, you'll make me worse:
Now I am poor, and willing to do well,
Hold me in that course; of all the Kings creatures,
I hate his coin, keep me from that, and save me;
For if you chance out of your housewivery
To leave a hundred pound or two, bestow it
In Plumb-broth e'r I know it, else I take it;
Seek out a hundred men that want this money,
Share it among 'em, they'll cry noble Montague,
And so I stand again at livery.

Char. You have pretty fancies, Sir, but married once,
This charity will fall home to your self.

Mont. I would it would, I am afraid my looseness
Is yet scarce stopt, though it have nought to work on
But the meer air of what I have had.

Char. Pretty.

Mont. I wonder sweet heart why you'll marry me,
I can see nothing in my self deserves it,
Unless the handsome wearing of a band,
For that's my stock now, or a pair of garters;
Necessity will not let me loose.

Char. I see Sir, a great deal more, a handsome man, a Husband,
To make a right good woman truly happy.

Mont. Lord, where are my eyes, either you are foolish
As wenches once a year are, or far worse,
Extreamly virtuous, can you love a poor man
That relies on cold meat, and cast stockings,
One only suit to his back, which now is mewing?
But what will be the next coat will pose Tristram.
If I should leavy from my friends a fortune:
I could not raise ten groats to pay the Priest now.

Char. I'll do that duty; 'tis not means nor money
Makes me pursue your love; were your mind bankrupt,
I would never love you.

Enter Lamira.

Mont. Peace wench, here's my Lady.

Lam. Nay, never shrink i'th' wetting, for my presence;
D'ye find her willing Montague?

Mont. Willing Madam?

Lam. How dainty you make of it, do not I know
You two love one another?

Mont. Certain Madam, I think ye'ave revelations of these matters:
Your Ladyship cannot tell me when I kist her.

Lam. But she can, Sir.

Mont. But she will not Madam;
For when they talk once, 'tis like Fairy-Money,
They get no more close kisses.

Lam. Thou art wanton.

Mont. [God] knows I need not, yet I would be lusty:
But —— my Provender scarce pricks me.

Lam. It shall be mended Montague, I am glad you are
grown so merry.

Mont. So am I too Madam.

Lam. You two will make a pretty handsome Consort.

Mont. Yes Madam, if my Fiddle fail me not.

Lam. Your Fiddle? why your Fiddle? I warrant thou
meanest madly:

Mont. Can you blame me? alas I am in love.

Char. 'Tis very well, Sir.

Lam. How long have you been thus?

Mont. How thus in love?

Lam. You are very quick, Sir: no, I mean thus pleasant.

Mont. —Ever since I was poor.

Lam. A little wealth would change you then?

Mont. Yes Lady, into another suit, but never more
Into another man: I'll bar that mainly,
The wealth I get hence-forward shall be charm'd
For ever hurting me, I'll spend it fasting:
As I live noble Lady, there is nothing
I have found directly, cures the melancholy,
But want and wedlock; when I had store of money,
I simper'd sometime, and spoke wondrous wise,
But never laught out-right; now I am empty,
My heart sounds like a Bell, and strikes at both sides.

Lam. You are finely temper'd, Montague.

Mont. Pardon Lady, if any way my free mirth have offended,
'Twas meant to please you: if it prove too saucy,
Give it a frown, and I am ever silenc'd.

Lam. I like it passing well; pray follow it:
This is my day of choice, and shall be yours too,
'Twere pity to delay ye: call to the Steward,
And tell him 'tis my pleasure he should give you
Five hundred Crowns: make your self handsome Montague,
Let none wear better cloaths, 'tis for my credit;
But pray be merry still.

Mont. If I be not, and make a fool of twice as many hundreds,
Clap me in Canvas, Lady. [Exeunt.

Enter La-poop, Laverdine, and Malycorne.

Lav. I am strangely glad, I have found the mystery
Of this disguised boy out: I ever trusted
It was a woman; and how happily
I have found it so; and for my self, I am sure,
One that would offer me a thousand pound now
(And that's a pretty sum to make one stagger)
In ready Gold for this concealment, could not
Buy my hope of her, she's a dainty wench,
And such a one I find I want extreamly,
To bring me into credit: beauty does it.

Mal. Say we should all meach here, and stay the Feast, now, what can the worst be? we have plaid the knaves, that's without question.

La-p. True, and as I take it, this is the first truth
We told these ten years, and for any thing
I know, may be the last: but grant we are knaves,
Both base and beastly knaves—

Mal. Say so then.

Lav. Well.

La-p. And likewise let it be considered, we have wrong'd,
And most maliciously, this Gentlewoman
We cast to stay with, what must we expect now?

Mal. I, there's the point, we would expect good eating.

La-p. I know we would, but we may find good beating.

Lav. You say true Gentlemen, and by——
Though I love meat as well as any man,
I care not what he be, if a eat a Gods name;
Such a crab-sauce to my meat will turn my pallate.

Mal. There's all the hazard, for the frozen Montague
Has now got spring again, and warmth in him,
And without doubt, dares beat us terribly.
For not to mint the matter, we are cowards,
And have, and shall be beaten, when men please
To call us into cudgeling.

La-p. I feel we are very prone that way.

Lav. The sons of Adam.

La-p. Now, here then rests the state o'th' question;
Whether we yield our bodies for a dinner
To a sound dog-whip, for I promise ye,
If men be given to correction,
We can expect no less; or quietly
Take a hard Egg or two, and ten mile hence
Bait in a ditch, this we may do securely;
For, to stay hereabout will be all one,
If once our moral mischiefs come in memory.

Mal. But pray ye hear me, is not this the day
The Virgin Lady doth elect her Husband?

Lav. The dinner is to that end.

Mal. Very well then, say we all stay, and say we all scape this whipping, and be well entertained, and one of us carry the Lady.

La-p. 'Tis a seemly saying, I must confess, but if we stay, how fitly
We may apply it to our selves (i'th' end)
Will ask a Christian fear; I cannot see,
If I say true, what special ornaments
Of Art or Nature, (lay aside our lying
Whoring and drinking, which are no great virtues)
We are endued withal, to win this Lady.

Mal. Yet Women go not by the best parts ever; that I have found directly.

Lav. Why should we fear then? they choose men
As they feed; sometimes they settle
Upon a White broth'd face, a sweet smooth gallant,
And him they make an end of in a night;
Sometimes a Goose, sometimes a grosser meat,
A rump of Beef will serve 'em at some season,
And fill their bellies too, though without doubt
They are great devourers: Stock-fish is a dish,
If it be well drest, for the tuffness sake
Will make the proud'st of 'em long and leap for't.
They'll run mad for a Pudding, e'r they'll starve.

La-p. For my own part I care not, come what can come,
If I be whipt, why so be it; if cudgell'd,
I hope I shall out-live it, I am sure
'Tis not the hundredth time I have been serv'd so,
And yet I thank [God] I am here.

Mal. Here's resolution.

La-p. A little patience, and a rotten Apple
Cures twenty worse diseases; what say you, Sir?

Lav. Marry I say Sir, if I had been acquainted
With lamming in my youth, as you have been
With whipping, and such benefits of nature,
I should do better: as I am, I'll venture,
And if it be my luck to have the Lady,
I'll use my fortune modestly; if beaten,
You shall not hear a word, one I am sure of,
And if the worst fall, she shall be my Physick.
Lets go then, and a merry wind be with us.

Mal. Captain, your shooes are old, pray put 'em off,
And let one fling 'em after us; be bold, Sirs,
And howsoever our fortune falls, lets bear
An equal burden; if there be an odd lash,
We'll part it afterwards.

La-p. I am arm'd at all points. [Exeunt.

Enter four serving in a Banquet.

1. Then my Lady will have a bedfellow to night.

2. So she says; Heaven! what a dainty arm-full shall he enjoy, that has the launching of her, what a fight she'll make.

3. I marry boys, there will be sport indeed, there will be grapling, she has a murderer lies in her prow, I am afraid will fright his main Mast, Robin.

4. Who dost thou think shall have her of thy conscience, thou art a wise man?

3. If she go the old way, the way of lot, the longest cut sweeps all without question.

1. She has lost a friend of me else; what think ye of the Courtier?

2. Hang him Hedge-hog: h'as nothing in him but a piece of Euphues, and twenty dozen of twelvepenny ribond, all about him, he is but one Pedlers shop of Gloves and Garters, pick-teeth and pomander.

3. The Courtier, marry God bless her Steven, she is not mad yet, she knows that trindle-tail too well, he's crestfall'n, and pin-buttock't, with leaping Landresses.

4. The Merchant, sure she will not be so base to have him.

1. I hope so Robin, he'll sell us all to the Moors to make Mummy; nor the Captain.

4. Who Potgun? that's a sweet youth indeed, will he stay, think ye?

3. Yes, without question, and have halfe din'd too, e'r the Grace be done; he's good for nothing in the world but eating, lying and sleeping; what other men devour in drink, he takes in potage, they say h'as been at Sea, a Herring-fishing, for without doubt he dares not hale an Eel-boat i'th' way of War.

2. I think so, they would beat him off with Butter.

3. When he brings in a prize, unless it be Cockles, or Callis sand to scour with, I'll renounce my Five Mark a year, and all the hidden Art I have in carving, to teach young Birds to whistle Walsingham; leave him to the Lime-Boats; now, what think you of the brave Amiens?

1. That's a thought indeed.

2. I marry, there's a person fit to feed upon a dish so dainty, and he'll do't I warrant him i'th' nick boys, has a body world without end.

4. And such a one my Lady will make no little of; but is not Montague married to day?

3. Yes faith, honest Montague must have his bout too.

2. He's as good a lad as ever turn'd a trencher; must we leave him?

3. He's too good for us, Steven, I'll give him health to his good luck to night i'th' old Beaker, and it shall be Sack too.

4. I must have a Garter; and boys I have bespoke a Posset, some body shall give me thanks fort, 'tas a few toys in't will rase commotions in a bed, lad.

1. Away; my Lady. [Exeunt.

Enter Orleance and his Lady, arm in arm, Amiens, Lamira, Charlotte, like a Bride, Montague brave, Laverdine, Longaville, Dubois, Mallycorn, La-poop.

Lam. Seat your selves noble Lords and Gentlemen,
You know your places; many royal welcomes
I give your Grace; how lovely shews this change!
My house is honor'd in this reconcilement.

Orl. Thus Madam must you do, my Lady now shall see
You made a Woman;
And give you some short lessons for your voyage.
Take her instructions Lady, she knows much.

Lam. This becomes you, Sir.

L[a]. My Lord must have his Will.

Orl. 'Tis all I can do now, sweet-heart, fair Lady;
This to your happy choice, brother Amiens,
You are the man I mean it to.

Ami. I'll pledge you.

Orl. And with my heart.

Ami. With all my love I take it.

Lam. Noble Lords, I am proud ye have done this day, so much content, and me such estimation, that this hour (In this poor house) shall be a league for ever, For so I know ye mean it.

Ami. I do Lady.

Orl. And I my Lord.

Omnes. Y'ave done a work of honor.

Ami. Give me the Cup, where this health stops, let
That man be either very sick, or very simple;
Or I am very angry; Sir, to you;
Madam, methinks this Gentleman might sit too;
He would become the best on's.

Orl. Pray sit down, Sir, I know the Lady of the Feast expects not this day so much old custom.

Ami. Sit down Montague; nay, never blush for the matter.

Mont. Noble Madam, I have t[w]o reasons [a]gainst it, and I dare not; duty to you first, as you are my Lady, and I your poorest servant; next the custom of this days ceremony.

Lam. As you are my servant, I may command you then.

Mont. To my life, Lady.

Lam. Sit down, and here, I'll have it so.

Ami. Sit down man, never refuse so fair a Ladies offer.

Mont. It is your pleasure, Madam, not my pride,
And I obey; I'll pledge ye now my Lord, Monsieur Longaville.

Long. I thank you, Sir.

Mont. This to my Lady, and her fair choice to day, and happiness.

Lon. 'Tis a fair health, I'll pledge you though I sink for't.

Lam. Montague you are too modest; come, I'll add a little more wine t'yee, 'twill make you merry, this to the good I wish.——

Mont. Honour'd Lady, I shall forget my self with this great bounty.

Lam. You shall not Sir, give him some Vine.

Ami. By Heaven you are a worthy woman, and that
Man is blest can come near such a Lady.

Lami. Such a blessing wet weather washes.

Mont. At all, I will not go a lip less, my Lord.

Orl. 'Tis well cast, Sir.

Mal. If Montague get more Wine, we are all like to hear on't.

Lav. I do not like that sitting there.

Mal. Nor I, methinks he looks lik[e] a Judge.

La-p. Now have I a kind of grudging of a beating on me, I fear my hot fit:

Mal. Drink apace, there's nothing allays a cudgel like it.

Lami. Montague, now I'll put my choice to you; who do you hold in all this honor'd company a Husband fit to enjoy thy Lady? speak directly.

Mont. Shall I speak, Madam?

Lami. Montague you shall.

Mont. Then as I have a soul, I'll speak my conscience,
Give me more Wine, in vino veritas,
Here's to my self, and Montague have a care.

Lami. Speak to th' cause.

Mont. Yes Madam, first I'll begin to thee.

Lav. Have at us.

La-p. Now for a Psalm of mercy.

Mont. You good Monsieur, you that belye the noble name of Courtier, and think your claim good here, hold up your hand; your Worship is endited here, for a vain glorious fool.

Lav. Good, oh Sir.

Mont. For one whose wit
Lies in a ten pound wastcoat; yet not warm;
Ye have travell'd like a Fidler to make faces,
And brought home nothing but a case of tooth-picks.
You would be married, and no less than Ladies,
And of the best sort can serve you; thou Silk-worm,
What hast thou in thee to deserve this woman?
Name but the poorest piece of man, good manners,
There's nothing sound about thee, faith, th'ast none,
It lies pawn'd at thy Silk-man's, for so much Lace;
Thy credit with his wife cannot redeem it,
Thy cloaths are all the soul thou hast, for so
Thou sav'st them handsome for the next great tilting,
Let who will take the t'other, thou wert never christen'd
(Upon my conscience) but in Barbers water;
Thou art never out o'th' Bason, thou art rotten,
And if thou dar'st tell truth, thou wilt confess it;
—— Thy skin
Looks of a Chesnut colour, greaz'd with Amber,
All women that on earth do dwell, thou lov'st,
Yet none that understand love thee again,
But those that love the Spittle; get thee home
Poor painted Butter-flie, th[y] Summers past;
Go sweat, and eat dry Mutton, thou may'st live
To do so well yet; a bruis'd Chamber-Maid
May fall upon thee, and advance thy follies.
You have your sentence; now it follows Captain,
I treat of you.

La-p. Pray [God] I may deserve it.

Orl. Beshrew my heart, he speaks plain.

Ami. That's plain dealing.

Mont. You are a rascal Captain.

La-p. A fine Calling.

Mont. A Water-coward.

Ami. He would make a pretty stuff.

Mont. May I speak freely, Madam?

Lami. Here's none ties you.

Mont. Why shouldst thou dare come hither with a thought
To find a wife here fit for thee? are all
Thy single money whores that fed on Carrots,
And fill'd the high Grass with familiars
Fall'n off to Footmen; prethee tell me truly,
For now I know thou dar'st not lie, couldst thou not
Wish thy self beaten well with all thy heart now,
And out of pain? say that I broke a rib,
Or cut thy nose off, wer't not merciful for this ambition?

La-p. Do your pleasure, Sir, beggars must not be choosers.

Orl. He longs for beating.

Mont. But that I have nobler thoughts possess my soul,
Than such brown Bisket, such a piece of Dog-fish,
Such a most maungy Mackril eater as thou art,
That dares do nothing that belongs to th' Sea,
But spue, and catch Rats, and fear men of War,
Though thou hast nothing in the world to loose
Aboord thee, but one piece of Beef, one Musket
Without a cock for peace sake, and a Pitch-barrel,
I'll tell thee, if my time were not more pretious
Than thus to loose it, I would rattle thee,
It may be beat thee, and thy pure fellow,
The Merchant there of Catskins, till my words,
Or blows, or both, made ye two branded wretches
To all the world hereafter; you would fain to
Venture your Bils of lading for this Lady;
What would you give now for her? some five frayl
Of rotten Figs, good Godson, would you not, Sir?
Or a Parrot that speaks High Dutch? can all thou ever saw'st
Of thine own fraughts from Sea, or cosenage
(At which thou art as expert as the Devil)
Nay, sell thy soul for wealth to, as thou wilt do,
Forfeit thy friends, and raise a mint of Money,
Make thee dream all these double, could procure
A kiss from this good Lady? canst thou hope
She would lye with such a nook of Hell as thou art,
And hatch young Merchant-furies? oh ye dog-bolts!
That fear no [God] but Dunkirk, I shall see you
Serve in a lowsy Lime-boat, e'r I dye,
For mouldy Cheese and Butter, Billingsgate
Would not endure, or bring in rotten Pippins
To cure blew eyes, and swear they came from China.

Lami. Vex 'em no more, alas they shake:

Mont. Down quickly on your marrow-bones, and thank this Lady.
I would not leave you thus else, there are blankets,
And such delights for such knaves; but fear still;
'Twill be revenge enough to keep you waking.
Ye have no mind of marriage, ha' ye?

La-p. Surely no great mind now.

Mont. Nor you.

Mal. Nor I, I take it.

Mont. Two eager suitors.

L[a]v. Troth 'tis wondrous hot, [God] bless us from him.

Lami. You have told me Montage
Who are not fit to have me, let me know
The man you would point out for me.

Mont. There he sits; my Lord of Amiens, Madam, is my choice, he's noble every way, and worthy a wife with all the dowries of—

Ami. Do you speak Sir, out of your friendship to me?

Mont. Yes my Lord, and out of truth, for I could never flatter.

Ami. I would not say how much I owe you for it,
For that were but a promise, but I'll thank ye,
As now I find you, in despite of fortune,
A fair and noble Gentleman.

Lami. My Lords, I must confess the choice this man hath made
Is every way a great one, if not too great,
And no way to be slighted: yet because
We love to have our own eyes sometimes n[o]w,
Give me a little liberty to see,
How I could fit my self, if I were put to't.

Ami. Madam we must.

Lami. Are ye all agreed?

Omnes. We be.

Lami. Then as I am a Maid, I shall choose here.
Montague I must have thee.

Mont. Why Madam, I have learnt to suffer more
Than you can (out of pity) mock me with this way especially.

Lami. Thou think'st I jest now;
But by the love I bear thee, I will have thee.

Mont. If you could be so weak to love a fall'n man,
He must deserve more than I ever can,
Or ever shall (dear Lady;) look but this way
Upon that Lord, and you will tell me then
Your eyes are no true choosers of good men.

Ami. Do you love him truly?

Lam. Yes my Lord, I will obey him truly, for I'll marry him, and justly think he that has so well serv'd me with his obedience, being born to greatness, must use me nobly of necessity, when I shall serve him.

Ami. 'Twere a deep sin to cross ye, noble Montague,
I wish ye all content, and am as happy
In my friends good as it were meerly mine.

Mont. Your Lordship does ill to give up your right;
I am not capable of this great goodness,
There sits my wife that holds my troth.

Cha. I'll end all, I wooed you for my Lady, and now give up my Title, alas poor wench, my aims are lower far.

Mont. How's this sweet-heart?

Lami. Sweet-heart 'tis so, the drift was mine to hide
My purpose till it struck home.

Omnes. [God g]ive you joy.

Lami. Prethee leave wondring, by this kiss I'll have thee.

Mont. Then by this kiss, and this, I'll ever serve ye.

Long. This Gentleman and I Sir, must needs hope once more to follow ye.

Mont. As friends and fellows, never as servants more.

Long. Dub. You make us happy.

Orl. Friend Montague, ye have taught me so much honor, I have found a fault in my self, but thus I'll purge my conscience of it, the late Land I took by false play, from you, with as much contrition, and entireness of affection to this most happy day again, I render; be master of your own, forget my malice, and make me worthy of your love, L. Montague.

Mont. You have won me and honor to your name.

Mal. Since your Lordship has begun good deeds, we'll follow; good Sir forgive us, we are now those men fear you for goodness sake; those sums of money unjustly we detain from you, on your pardon shall be restor'd again, and we your servants.

La-p. You are very forward Sir, it seems you have money, I pray you lay out, I'll pay you, or pray for you, as the Sea works.

Lav. Their pennance Sir, I'll undertake, so please ye
To grant me one concealment.

Long. A right Courtier, still a begging.

Mont. What is it Sir?

Lav. A Gentlewoman.

Mont. In my gift?

Lav. Yes Sir, in yours.

Mont. Why, bring her forth, and take her.

Lami. What wench would he have?

Mont. Any wench I think.

Enter Laverdine and Veramour like a woman.

Lav. This is the Gentlewoman.

Mont. 'Tis my Page, Sir.

Ver. No Sir, I am a poor disguis'd Lady,
That like a Page have followed you full long for love god-wot.

Omnes. A Lady—Laverdine—yes, yes, 'tis a Lady.

Mont. It may be so, and yet we have lain together,
But by my troth I never found her, Lady.

L. Orl. Why wore you boys cloaths?

Ver. I'll tell you, Madam,
I took example by two or three Plays, that methought
Concerned me.

Mont. Why made you not me acquainted with it?

Ver. Indeed Sir, I knew it not my self,
Until this Gentleman open'd my dull eyes,
And by perswasion made me see it.

Ami. Could his power in words make such a change?

Ver. Yes, as truly woman as your self, my Lord.

Lav. Why, but hark you, are not you a woman?

Ver. If hands and face make it not evident, you shall see more.

Mai. Breeches, breeches, Laverdine.

La-p. 'Tis not enough, women may wear those cases.
Search further Courtier.

Omnes. Ha, ha, ha.

La-p. Oh thou fresh-water Gudgeon, wouldst thou come
To point of Marriage with an Ignoramus?
Thou shouldst have had her Urin to the Doctors,
The foolishest Physitian could have made plain
The liquid Epicæne; a blind man by the hand
Could have discovered the ring from the stone.
Boy, come, to Sea with me, I'll teach thee to climb,
And come down by the Rope, nay to eat Rats.

Ver. I shall devour my Master before the prison then,
Sir, I have began my Trade.

Mal. Trade? to the City, child, a flat-cap will become thee.

Mont. Gentlemen, I beseech you molest your selves no further,
For his preferment it is determin'd.

Lav. I am much ashamed, and if my cheek
Gives not satisfaction, break my head.

Mont. Your shame's enough, Sir.

Ami. Montague, much joy attend thy marriage-bed;
By thy example of true goodness, envy is exil'd,
And to all honest men that truth intend,
I wish good luck, fair fate be still thy friend. [Exeunt.

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