A Collection of Old English Plays, Volume 4

by Unknown

THE CAPTIVES; OR, THE LOST RECOVERED.

A Comedy by THOMAS HEYWOOD.

Licensed by Sir Henry Herbert in 1624, and now first printed from Egerton MS. 1994.

Actus primus.

SCENA PR.

Enter Mr. Raphael a younge marchaunt, Mr. Treadway his companione and frend.

Raphael. You talke to one thats deaf; I am resolv'd.

Treadway. I knwe [sic] you are not of that stupid sence But you will lyst to reason.

Raphael. Alls but vayne.

Treadway. You saye shees fayre.

Raphael. And there-fore to bee lov'd.

Treadway.[46] No consequent
To trust to collour. Are not the bewtyous lyllyes,
The gardens pryde and glorye of the feilds,
Thoughe to the eye fayre and delectable,
Yet ranke in smell? the stayneles swanne
With all the Oceans water cannot wash
The blacknes from her feete, tis borne with her.
Oft painted vessayles bringe in poysond cates,
And the blackest serpents weare the goldenst scales;
And woman, made mans helper at the fyrst,
Dothe oft proove his destroyer.

Raphael. Saye perhapps
Some frend of yours miscarried in his choyse,
Will you condeme all women for that one?
Bycause we reade one Lais was unchast,
Are all Corinthian Ladyes cortesans?
Shall I, bycause my neighbours house was burnt,
Condeme the necessary use of fyre?
One surfeitts, and shall I refuse to eate?
That marchant man by shipwreck lost his goodds;
Shall I, bycause hee perisht in the sea,
Abiure the gainfull trade of merchandyse,
Despoyle my shipps, and unbecom [?] the deepes
Of theire fayre Sayles and tackles?

Treadway. Not so, frend.[47] Althoughe her person may perhapps content, Consider but the place.

Raphael. I knwe it badd, Nay woorst of Ills.

Treadway. A howse of prostitution And common brothellrie.

Raphael. Which coold not stand
But that her vertue guards it and protects it
From blastinges and heavens thunders. There shee lyves
Lyke to a ritche and pretious Jewell lost,
Fownd shyninge on a doonge-hill, yet the gemme
No wyse disparadged of his former worthe
Nor bated of his glory; out of this fyre
Of lust and black temptation sheis [sic] returned
Lyke gold repur'd and tryde.

Treadway. Of what byrthe is shee?

Raphael. Unknwne to mee or any: shee protests,
Neye to her self; what neede I question that?
Sure sutche sweete features, goodnes, modesty
Such gentlenes, such vertue cannot bee
Deryvd from base and obscure parentadge.

Treadway. Whats then your end and purpose?

Raphael. To redeeme her
Out of this gayle of sinne and leprosye,
This mart of all diseases, where shee lyves
Still under the comande and Tyrany
Of a most base hee-bawde: about which busines
Wee have allready traffict.

Treadway. Well, if so,
And to dispose her elsewhere to her goodd,
Provided still that vertue be your ayme,
I cannot but commende your charity
And to my power I'l seeke to further it.

Raphael. You so intyre mee to you. Within theire!

Enter the Clowne.

Clowne. Within theire is nowe without heare: your worshipps pleasure?

Raphael. Hye to the next key and inquire for one cald Seignior Mildewe and resolve him from mee that I have kept apointment: the somms redy and present to bee tendred.

Clowne. Who? the Frenshe monster,[48] Neapolitan Seignor, the man-makarel[49] and marchant of madens-fleshe that deales altogether in flawed ware and crackt comodityes? the bawdy broker, I meanes, where a man for his dollers may have choyse of diseases, and som tymes the pox too, if hee will leeve beehind him a good pawne for it.

Raphael. How thou drummst.

Clowne. Marry qothe hee. So I may happen to bringe it awaye in my nose. Well I smell some bawdy business or other in hand. They call this place Marcellis Roade, the cheiff haven towne in France, but hee keepes a road[50] in his oune howse wherein have ridd and bin ridd more leakinge vessayles, more panderly pinks,[51] pimps and punkes, more rotten bottoms ballanst, more fly-boates[52] laden and unladen every morninge and evenning tyde then weare able to fill the huge greate baye of Portingall. Is this all, syr?

Raphael. Yes all, and heares the somme.

Clowne. A small somme of that is worthe all the busines that I am sent about, for the all in all on't is I am afrayde that all will proove woorthe nothinge.

Treadway. And yet mee thinkes ere folly you conclude You should a little stagger.

Raphael. Should? wherein?

Treadway. For many reasons: Il alleadge som fewe.
Who knwes but this your fayre and seeminge saynt,
Thoughe disposd well and in her owne condition
Of promisinge goodnes, yet livinge in the seminary
Of all libidinous actions, spectars, sights,
Even in the open market where sinne's sould
Where lust and all uncleanes are commerst
As freely as comodityes are vended
Amongst the noblest marchants,—who I saye
So confident that dare presume a virgin
Of such a soft and maiden temperature,
Deyly and howerly still sollicited
By gallants of all nations, all degrees,
Allmost all ages, even from upright youth
To the stoopinge and decrepitt—

Raphael. Heare mee nowe.

Treadway. Two woords and I have doone: the place considered,
The basenes of the person under whome
Shee lyves opprest, a slave of sordid lyfe,
Conditiond with the devill, temptinge still
Sometymes by fayre means, then againe by foul,
To prostitute her for his servyle gaynes;
And next the dissolute crewe with which shees hows'd
Ech night, ech deye perswedinge boathe with toonge
And lewde example; all these circonstances
Duly considered, I shoold dowbt at least,
If not presume, the woorst.

Raphael. Oh you have pleasd mee,
And in proposinge all these difficultyes
Given of her graces ample testimony.
Shee is that miracle, that only one
That cann doo these; wear't comon in the sexe
Twold not appeare to mee so admirable;
It is for these I love her.

Treadway. You are resolvd And I'l not staye your purpose.

Enter the Clowne with Mildewe and Sarleboys his guest and frende.

Clowne. I have brought this flesh-fly whome as soone as the butchers wyves sawe comminge throwghe the shambles, they all of them stood with theire flapps in theire hands like fanns. I, demandinge the reason itt was answerd me againe itt was to keepe away his infectious breath least it should fill theire meate with fly-blowes.

Raphael. Well, mett, good Mr. Mildewe.

Mildewe. My returne Of your salutes I cast belowe your feete.

Raphael. Syr, I am yours to treade on. You will then Stand to your former bargen?

Mildewe. I weare else Not woorthy to bee stil'd what I am tearmd, A trewe venereall broaker.

Clowne. That's in Italian A damnable hee bawde.

Mildewe Y'have such a bargen
Marcellis, nor all France, shall yeild the like.
Tis such a deynty peece of purity
Such a coy thinge that[53] hee unto whose lott
She shall hereafter fall may boast himself
To bee a happy husband. For our trade
Shees out at that: neather promises, rewards,
Example or Intreaty, fayre, fowle meanes,
Gaine present or the hope of future goodd,
Can force from her a presens; then much lesse
A frendly prostitution.

Raphael. Hearst thou this?

Treadway. Yes[54] and comende it in her, if that toonge, Even from his fyrst of speakinge traind to lye, Can now at lengthe speake truth.

Clowne. Ay theres the dowbt.

Sarly. This too yeares I have quested to his howse, And knwe all this most certeine.

Raphael. Witnes too.

Mildewe. I doo protest she spoyles my family
And rather growne a hyndrance to my trade
Then benefitt; so that, if not to losse,
I wishe that I were clerly ridd of her,
For shee hathe gott a trick to[55] my whores;
And such as of themselves are impudent,
When shee but coms in presens she makes blushe,
As if ashamd of what they late had doon
Or are about to doo.

Clowne. Well sayde, ould sinner.

Raphael. See, heeres the sum, 3 hundred crownes.

Mildewe. O'th somme.

Raphael. All currant and full weight.

Mildewe. I'l fetch my doughter That hath no lightnes in her, currant too As any lasse i'th cittye.

Raphael. Mildewe, staye.

Clowne. Staye, oh thou father of fornication and marchant of nothinge but mesteryes and mischeife; whele about, thou dung[c]art of diseases; sayle this way thoue galley foyst[56] of galls and garbadge! Dost not heare my master? staye!

Mildewe. Why, did his worshippe call?

Clowne. Didst thou not heare him call, and mee cry out upon thee?

Mildewe. His pleasure then?

Raphael. I have bethought mee better nowe to keepe
This business secrett, least it chance to arryve
To th'eares of some of my most noble frends;
And not to make it publicke and this honest
Purpose of myne by that meanes misreated,[57]
Heare lett her stay till night bycause I am loath
In th'eye of day to move her through the streetes.

Mildewe. Good, syr.

Raphael. Nwe [Now] in the villaige by, that fronts the sea,
Som halff league off where stands the monastery,
I have bespoake a place to sojorn her.
There I this evening do intend[58] a feast
Where only wee and som fewe private frends
Have purpost to bee jhoviall. To that place
I prithee, with what pryvacy thou canst,
Conduct her and so add unto our guests.

Mildewe. The place I knwe, the tyme is perfect with mee, And for the feast you saye you have prepared I shall provyde a stomacke.

Raphael. Her caskett, and such other necessaryes Included in our bargen, bring alonge Or lett her mayde do'ot for thee.

Mildewe. I'l not bate her A ruff or ragge; no pinne that's usefull too her Will I keepe backe.

Raphael. To this you are witnes, frend.

Treadway. I am, Syr.

Mildewe. So's my guest.

Clowne. And lookes as if with me Hee only could write witlesse.

Raphael. Supper tyme You will remember, Mildewe.

Mildewe. Possible I should forgett to eate of others' cost? It never was my custom.

Clowne. Choake you for't.

Raphael. Come, frend, mee thinks I have doone a deede this day Crownes all my better actions, for I have raised An Innocent from the hands of an Infidell agent.

Clowne. Farewell, rott, farewell murreine, adiewe.

Mildewe. Farewell till soone.

[Exeunt Raphael, Treadway, and Clowne.

Sarleb. And do you meane to keepe your promisse then, And doo as you have sayde?

Mildewe. Why not, I prithee? What else canst thou advyse mee?

Sarleb. Are not wee
Boathe of a rotten conscience, men debosht,
Secluded from the company of such
As either are or else would stryve to bee
Reputed honest? wherefore then should wee
Keepe tutche with any that professe themselves
Not to bee of our ranke?

Mildewe. Proceede, good frend: Thou hast putt project in my brayne allredy, Small tyme woold better fashion.

Sarleb. What if I
Laye such a plotte that you shall gayne these crownes
These full three hundred to your proper use,
And of these peevishe harletryes at home
Make a much greater market?

Mildewe. Marry, syr, That were a tale worth listeninge.

Sarleb. These crowns
Are all your owne in your possession,
So are the maydes. I knowe you ritche besydes
In coyne and jewells; heere you lyve despysed,
And whats this clime to us of more esteme
Then any forreine region? whores and bawdes
May lyve in every corner of the woorld,
We knowe tis full of sinners. This, this day
Letts hyre a bark; wee dwell upon the haven,
And instantly 'tis done. Shipp all your goods
With these shee-chatteyles; putt this night to sea—
England they saye is full of whormasters;
There will bee vent for such comoditye,
There strompett them where they (you saye) weare born,
Else you in Spayne may sell them to the stewes,
Venyce or any place of Italy;
They are everywhere good chaffer. If not these,
What saye you to Morocho, Fesse, Algiers?
Faith these are wares in all parts vendible,
No matter thoughe to Turke and infidell,
So itt bringe gayne and profitt.

Mildewe. Lett me hugg thee
For this, deare frend; heareafter I will style thee
My better genius; thou hast monied mee in this,
Nay landed me, made me thy braynes executor,
And putt mee in a lardge possession.
Go hyre a barke.

Sarlab. I shall.

Mildewe. And instantly.

Sarlab. I shall.

Mildewe. Ere night wee'l putt into a sea No larger then our full stretcht consciences. Lett mee once more Imbrace thee. [Exeunt.

SCENA 2.

Enter an Abbot with his covent[59] of Fryars, amongst them Fryar Jhon, and Fryar Ritchard.

Abbot. As I have heare priority of place, Boathe by our patrons favour and your voyce, So give me leave to arbitrate amongst you.

Fr. Jhon. Without respect of person wee acknowledge you. Our prince and cheiff.

Fr. Rich. And to your fatherly And grave advyse humbly submitt our selves.

Abbot. Knwe then in this small covent, which consysts
Only of 12 in nomber, fryars I meane
And us the Abbat, I have fownde amongst you
Many and grosse abuses; yet for the present
I will insist on fewe. Quarrells, debates,
Whisperinge, supplantinges, private calumnyes,
These ought not bee in such a brotherhood.
Of these Fryar Jhon and thou Fryar Richard are
Accused to bee most guilty, ever jarring
And opposite to peace.

Fr. Jhon. The faults in him.

Fr. Rich. As in all other thinges, so even in this Hee still is apt to wronge mee.

Fr. Jhon. Hee that fyrst gives th'occation, fyrst complaines: It ever was his fashion.

Fr. Rich. Never myne: I appeale to the whole covent.

Abbot. Mallyce rooted,
I finde, is woondrous hard to bee supprest.
But knwe where consell and advise preveyle not,
The fayrest meanes that I can wourk your peace,
I'l take upon mee my authority,
And where I finde in you the least contempt
I shall severely punishe.

Fr. Jhon. I submitt.

Fr. Rich. I yeeld myself to your grave fatherhood.

Abbot. Consider, sonnes, this cloystered place of ours
Is but newe reared; the founder, hee still lyves,
A souldier once and eminent in the feild,
And after many battayles nowe retyrd
In peace to lyve a lyff contemplative.
Mongst many other charitable deedes,
Unto religion hee hathe vowed this howse,
Next to his owne fayre mantion that adjoynes
And parted only by a slender wall.
Who knwes but that hee neighboring us so neare
And havinge doone this unto pious ends,
May carry over us and our behavioures
An austere eye of censure?

Fr. Jhon. Fitt therefore Wee should bee in our actions cautelous.[60]

Fr. Rich. And carefull least wee may incurr displeasure Of such a noble patron.

Abbot. Well observ'd. His bewtious Lady—

Fr. Jhon. A sweete soule indeede.

Fr. Rich. On whom Fryar Jhon casts many a leering eye: I have observd that too.

Abbot. Boath for her outward feature
And for her inward graces excellent
Beyond compare, shee lykewyse is to us
A worthy benefactor.

Fr. Rich. Tis confest.

Fr. Jhon. Would I might com to bee her confessor: It is a fayre sweete lady.

Fr. Rich.[61] Howe the lecher Hugges at the very name.

Abbot. Morninge and eveninge
They deyly com to mattens and to evensonge;
Such and so greate is theire devotion.
That, if not crasd or feylinge in theire healthe,
They do not misse us any hower of prayer;
And therefore it behooves us all in generall
To sett a carefull watche upon our deedes,
Least we that are proffest religious
Bee in the least deffective.

Fr. Richard. Noate, Fryar Jhon, Howe hee makes anticke faces and in scorne Of this your reverent counsell.

Fr. Jhon. I, alas?
A weaknes from my childhood, I confesse,
I ever had and cannott helpe it nowe,
To have a trobled countenance. I make mouthes?
This (most observed father) but approoves
My innosens and his envye. Markt you that?
Fryar Richard bent his fyst and threatned mee.
I call all these to witnesse.

Fr. Rich. No such thinge.
I have a crampe oft takes me in this hand
And makes mee weare clutcht ringers, and that passion
Now came upon mee; but for meanacinge him
It ever was farr from mee. This but showes
His owld inveterate mallice, which in charity
I wishe might heare lye buried.—Syrrah, anon
I'l have you by the eares.

Fr. Jhon. Doo if thou darst; We'll tugge it out by the teeth.

Fr. Rich. Meete me i'th orchard Just after even song.

Fr. Jhon. I will make short prayers Bycause I'l keepe appointment.

Abbot. I am playne
And breife with all: eather betwixt you too [sic]
Make frendly reconsilement, and in presence
Of this your brotherhood (for what is fryar
But frater, and that's brother?), or my selfe
Out of my power will putt you to a penance
Shall make you in one weeke fyve fasting-dayes.

Fr. Jhon. Oh terrible!

Abbot. Or, if that will not tame you,
I will complayne to'th fownder of your loosenes,
Your riotts, and disorders, and petition
That you, as sowers off seditious hatred[62]
And sole disturbers of our common peace,
Maye bee excluded this society,
Banisht by common barre-law, and shutt out
To publick shame and beggerye.

Fr. Rich. Horrible!

Fr. Jhon. Fyrst then to showe my submisse willingnes
And forwardnes withall: with as much charity
As any new reformed man maye doo,
I with a zeale and hart new reconsiled
Thus humbly begge his love.
(Y'are a rogue, Ritchard.)

Fr. Rich. To meete his trewe And most unfeigned affection, heare in face And viewe of this our holly brotherhoode, As if in open coort with this mi[63] breath I heare confine all hatred. (Jhon, y'are a Jack sauce, I meane a sawcye Jacke.)

Fr. Jhon. The orchard.

Fr. Rich. Theare.

Abbot. Why, this is as it should bee, and becomes
A trew religious order. Such as are sequestred
And vowed unto a strict monasticke lyfe,
Ought to putt off these grosse and prophane sinnes
Most frequent amongst laye-men. Unity,
Due conformation and fraternall love.
Devotion, hott zeale, and obediens; these
Are vertues that become a cloyster best.
Nowe lett's retyre unto our oresons
And p[r]eye for our good fownders; may they still
Grow to our wishe and thryve to theire owne will.

[Exeunt all but Friar Jhon.

Fr. Jhon. More then I woold to have my wishe on thee,
Richard, though I have a good stomacke too't,
Ey, and to baste thee sowndly, I woold nowe
To have my will one her. Tis a sweete creature;
Our patron owld, shee younge; som hope in that.
Besydes, shee's woondrous kind and affable;
And when we duck or congee, smiles as if
Shee tooke som pleasure in our shaven crownes.
I am the fyrst that every morninge, when
Shee passes through the cloyster to her prayers,
Attend her with good morrowe, pray for her health.
For her content and pleasure, such as canott bee
Hop't or expected from her husband's age;
And these my frendly wishes she returnes
Not only in kind language but sweete smiles,
The least of which breede som Incoradgement.
I will, if shee persist to proove thus kind,
If not to speeke my thoughts, to wryte my mynd.

[Exit.

SCENA TERTIA.

Thunder.

Enter after a greate Tempestuous storme Mr. Ashburne an Englishe marchant and his man Godfrey.

Ashburne. Was ever knowne such a tempestuous night
Of thunder, hayle, wynd, lightninge! Twas as if
The fower seditious brothers threatned warr
And weare but nowe at battayle.

Godfrey. The fower winds you meane; blusteringe fellowes they are. Preye God all be well at sea, for I am sure the roofes tyles and ridges have payde for it a shewer.[64]

Ashb. The very rafters of the howses bend;
Some breake and are demolisht; barnes blowne downe;
The very chimneyes rattle ore our heads;
The strongest buildinges tremble just as if
Theire is above a tempest, so belowe
There weare a fearefull earth-quake.

Godfrey. All our howses
Are nothinge nowe but windowes, broad bay windowes
So spatious that carts laded may drive throughe
And neather loush oth' topp or eathere syde.
Lights every where, we shall have lightnes inoughe:
Heares stupid woork for daubers!

Ashburne. We are forct All to forsake the villaige and to fly Unto the feilds for succor.

Godfrey. Syr, it putt me
In minde of the greate King Agathocles,
Who was, as I have heard you oft relate,
Brain'd with a Tyle. Why may not meaner men
Then feare the fall of brick batts?

Enter Raphael, Treadway, and the Clowne.

Treadway. A strange night And full of terror; yet, thanks heaven, well past.

Raphael. Oh, but I feare the greater storms to come, A gust that will more shake mee.

Clowne. More, quothe hee; I can scarce see howe that well can bee, for I can assure you the garrett that I laye in putt mee in mind of myne infancye, for I lye all the night longe as if I had bin rockt in a cradle.

Raphael. Oh, frend, I feare this false and perjur'd slave, That hathe not kept apointment, hath deceiv'd mee Boathe of my coyne and pretious marchandyse.

Clowne. Did you ever looke for better from a Judas [?] of his he[yre]?[65]

Raphael. Which if hee have—

Clowne. Why then hee hathe, and the mends is in y'r owne hands: that's all that I can say too't.

Raphael. Hee hathe undone mee dubly.

Treadway. Hope the best.
Perhapps the threatninge weather kept him backe:
Itt was a trobled skye, the soon set blusheing,
The rack cam swiftly rushing from the west;
And these presadges of a future storme,
Unwillinge for to trust her tendernes
Unto such feares, might make him fayle his hower;
And yet with purpose what hee slack't last night
Howe to make goodd this morninge.

Raphael. Oh you tent[66]
My woonds too gently, dally with my dowbts
And flutter my trewe feares: the even was calme,
The skye untrobled, and the soon went downe
Without disturbance in a temperate ayr.
No, not the least conjecture coold be made
Of such a suddeine storme, of which the woorld
Till after midnight was not sensible.
His hower was supper, and in faylinge that—

Clowne. Ey, nowe begin I to feare too for thee. Breake his woord if it bee to com to dinner or supper! I'l never trust his bond for the valewe of a threepenny ordenarye after.

Raphael. Post you back to the citty; make inquiries
And most strickt search to find that Mildewe out;
Whom if you meete, fyrst rate his last neclect,
Then hasten his repayer. Heare you shall finde mee
Or in the waye home; for in all this villaige
I woll not leave a howse, a place unsearcht.
If where hee dwells you misse him, then demande
Att every bey what shippinge late went out.
If any vowed love still remane betwixt us,
Make it appear nowe in your present care
And expedition.

Treadw. I'l be your Mercury, Not fayle you in the least.

Raphael. And so betwixt us Increase a frendshipp that was never flawed.

[Exit[67] Treadway.

Ashburne. This gentleman, itt seemes, hathe in this tempest Sustein'd som losse, he appears so much disturb'd.

Clowne. See, syr, heare are some it may bee beelonge to this villadge; you had best aske of them.

Raphael. And well advysed. Hayle, father!

Godfrey. No more hayle if you love mee; we had too much of that last night.

Ashburne. Of what sexe are you that you call me so?
I have bene father of a doughter once,
Though not these many yeares blest with her sight,
But of a soone yet never.

Raphael. What you have lost May you in som most fayer and fortunate hower Againe find to your comfort.

Ashburne. You wishe well.

Raphael. Sawe you not bowte this villadge late last night, Or early now i'th morninge, a short fellowe Thin heyred, flat nosed, sand-bearded and squint eyde?

Clowne. The mapp of misfortune and very picture of ill luck.

Raphael. Grosse-wasted, gowty-legg'd.

Clowne. Whose face is puft up like a bladder and whose belly lyke a toonne.

Raphael. Owld, graye and hoary.

Clowne. And withall cheatinge, cousininge, and crafty; a remarkable raskall, a damnable deceiver, and a most substantiall cinner.

Ashburne. By such I have much suffred in my state,
Opprest almost to utmost penury
In my once better fortune; but so late
I sawe not any such.

Raphael. Hee was expected
To bee attended by too [sic] handsome gurles,
Boathe younge, boathe fayre, but th'one unparreld [sic];
Neather of which by computation
Hathe told so hye as twenty.

Ashb. If such I chance to meete by accident I'l send you notyce. Please you leave your name And place of your abode.

Raphael. Raphael I am cald,
A marchant in Marcellis, and my lodginge
Is at the Parratt in the markett-place;
There you shall finde mee knowne.

Ashb. And by that name Presume I'l not forgett you.

Raph. For which curtesy,
Fare you well, syr;
You shall oblighe mee to you. If not heare
Weele seeke her further; France shall not conteine them
But I will finde theire start-holes.

Ashb. Good speede with you.

Clowne. If I weare a dogge nowe and coold hunt dry foote[68] I could smell them out presently.

[Exeunt[69] Raphael and Clown.

Ashb. Come lett us mount ourselfes upon these rockes
And, havinge feelinge of our hurts at land,
Letts see what shyppes have ben distrest at sea,
If any shaken in this storme or wreckt;
And though wee cannot help the miserable
Yet lett them taste our pittye.

Godfrey. Sir, content; but I hope your fishermen have not putt to sea this night. If they have I sweare they have showed themselves much madder then the tempest.

Ashb. I hope they have bin more discreate and wyse Then with the hazard of my boates and netts To indanger theire owne lyves.

Godfr. See: do you see, Syr?

Ashb. What?

Godfr. Why, yonder.

Ashb. Where?

Godfr. There towards yon shore.

Ashb. A shipp laboringe for liffe Nowe cast upon the rocks, nowe splitt, nowe sinkinge, Nowe dasht to peeces.

Godfr. I see all mischeifes do not com by land, Som's doone upon the water.

Ashb. Though theire goodes perishe,
Yet in thy mercy, heaven, protect theire lyves.
Som sitt upon the planks, som on the masts,
Som hange upon the cables, and som few
Have only gott the cock-boat; others swimme.
Oh that wee shoold beehold theire misery
And want power to assiste them!

Godfr. Sure, syr, it was som shipp of passengers,
For see you not too women? daynty ducks!
Would they coold swime as ducks can, see how they spread
And cast theire legges abroad lyke naked frogges!
See howe they spread theire armes and stryve for lyfe!
I[70] would I weare som Dolphin or some whayle
That they might sitt astryde upon my backe
To beare them safe ashore; but I as yet
Could neare indure still water. See yet still,
Still theire coates beare them upp, keepe them aloft;
The modest ayer not willinge to discover
That which the bawdy waves shame not belowe
Rudely to lifte and handle.

Ashb. Blesse them heaven!
The wind and tyde still beate them towards the shore,
But oh that cursed billowe hath devyded
And parted them asunder. Yet all's well;
They still beare upp. If they but scape the next
There may bee hope of safetye.

Godfr. One's driven this way, The tother that; the men shift for themselves, Howe shall we save thes women?

Ashb. No meanes unlesse we leape downe from the rockes,
And that's meare desperation. Yet to showe
Our charityes to wretches thus extreame,
Lett's see if wee can find the least descent
And hasten to theire suckor.

Godfr. By your favour, I had rather they with brine shoold break their bellys Then I my neck with clamberinge.

Explicit Actus primus.

Actus 2.

SCENA PRIMA.

Storme continewed. Enter Palestra all well, as newly shipwreckd and escapt the fury of the seas.

Palestra.[71] Is this then the reward of Innocense,
Of goodness to our selfes, namely chast lyfe,
Pietye to our parents, love to all,
And above all our Christian zeale towardes heaven?
But why shoold wee poore wretches thus contest
Against the powers above us, when even they
That are the best amongst us are servd badd?
Alas, I never yet wrongd man or child,
Woman or babe; never supplanted frend
Or sought revendge upon an enemy.
You see yet howe we suffer; howe shall they then
That false their faythes, that are of uncleane lyfe
And then not only sinne unto them selves
But tempt and persuade others? what shall I thinke
Becoms of my base guardian? though the waves
Have spared the guiltles, sure his putrid s[oule][72]
Cannot escape heavens justyce! wee poor wretches
Are punishe [sic] for his grosse impietyes,
They mov'd heavens wrathe, who stir'd the winds and waves
Stryvinge whose fury should destroy us fyrst.
These boathe conspyringe in our ruinne, th'one
Beate us belowe the billowes whilst the other
Swallowed boathe shippe and goodes; [amongst] the rest
A[73] budget or portmantau which includes
All the bawdes wealth. But that weare nothinge to mee
Though he had vowed and sworne to make mee his heyer;
The losse I so lament is a small caskett
Kept by him from my childhood, and packt up
Amongst his treasure; and that perishinge,
I forfett the longe expectation
Ever to knowe my parents, therefore wishe
With it I had i'th sea been buried.

Enter Scribonia.

Scrib. With perill of oft fallinge and the danger
Of second deathe, having new scapt the fyrst,
I have with feare and terror clim'd these rocks,
And these too past I feare to meete a thyrd.
I spy no howse, no harbor, meete no creature
To point mee to some shelter; therefore heare
Must starve by famine or expire by could.
O'th sea the whystlinge winds still threaten wreckes,
And flyinge nowe for refuge to the lande
Find nought save desolation. Thoughe these three,
Three dreadfull deaths all spare mee, yeat a fowerth,
I cannot shoone [shun] in my Palestras losse,
More[74] deare to mee then all the world besides,
For the best blood of myne runns in her veynes,
This lyfe breath in her bosom. Oh my Palestra!

Palestr. Numnes and feare, hungar and sollitude, Besydes my casket, my Scribonia's losse, All these at once afflict mee.

Scrib. Notheinge mee
More than Palestra's deathe. Ha, who's that spake?
Suer twas som womans voyce! if my Palestra
Only for her sake I coulde wishe to live.

Pal. Then lyve, my deere Scribonia, synce I am only Spar'd to partake with thee newe miseryes.

Scrib. Scarce can I bee perswaded you are shee: But, bee yt but her shadowe, give mee leave For her remembrance to imbrace it thus.

Palest. These armes at once locke all my lyvinge hopes In my restored Scribonia.

Scrib. Nowe I perceave My comfort is not meare imaginary But reall and effectuall. Lyve you then?

Pal. To triumphe in your safety.

Scrib. Possible
That mongst these desert unfrequented rocks
Thou can imadgine such a thing can be
As that which you call safety?

Pal. Yes, Scribonia,
And comfort too; for, see, I spy a villadge,
A maner and a fayre built monastery,
Just at the foott of this descendeinge hill.
And where, if not amongst religious men,
Shoold we find that's calld charity?

Scrib. Thether, then:
Lett[75] us make hast with all the speede we can:
Fyre at the least I hope it [is?] well assured,
Besydes releiffe and harbor.

Pal. Can you begge?

Scrib. What will not rude necessity compell
Distressed folke to doo? We'll not doo't basely,
For beinge brought upp to musick and to sing,
Demandinge in that kind there charity,
And they perceivinge us much better bred
Then these our present fortunes might deserve,
May move in them compassions.

Pal. Lett's retyre
To the backe gate then, there complane our wants
And that which others doo with impudence
Lett us in shame and blushes.

Scrib. Som sweete echo
Speake from these walls and answer to our wants,
And eather lend som comfort to our grieffs
Or send us hence dispayringe and asham'd.

[They go in.

Pal. _Oh charity where art thou fled, And nowe how longe hast thou been dead?

Answer within. Oh many many many hundred yeares

Scrib. In villadge, borrough, towne or citty
Remaines there yet no grace, no pitty?

Answ. Not in sighes, not in want, not in teares.

Pal. Cold comfort in this answer; but proceede.

Above. we see a threatninge skye.

Answ. Beelowe the winds and gusts blowe hye,
And all all to fright hence this same juell.

Scrib. The lightninges blast, the thunders cracke,
The billows menace nought save wracke.

Answ. And yet man is then these much more crewell.

Pal. Unless my judgment quite miscarry,
Shee may lyve in som monastery.

Answ. Tis a place too that was fyrst assigned her.

Scrib. If not amongst religious men,
Yett where, where shall wee seeks her then?

Answ. Yet even there, there, you scarce scarce can find her.

Pal. If chastity and Innocens tryde
Have boathe escaped wind and tyde—

Answ. Yet oh why should the land, land these cherish?

Scrib. Of whome even billowes have a care,
Whom seas preserve, whom tempests spare—

Answ. Yet these these amongst men may perishe._

Pal. Uncharitable echo! from a place
Of pure devotion canst thou answer that?
If not in these religious monasteries,
In what place can we find could charity?

Scrib. Where ere wee meete her shee is lyke our selfes, Bare, without harbor, weake and comfortles.

Enter Fryer John.

Fr. Jhon. What singeinge beggers were those at the gate That would so early rowse our charity, Before it was half styrringe or awake?

Enter Fryer Richard.

I thinke I answerd them in such a way
As I beleeve scarce pleas'd them.

Fr. Rich. What sweete musick Was that at the back gate hath cald mee upp Somwhat before my hower?

Fr. Jhon. Morrow, fryar Richard:
Howe did you lyke our last night's buffetinge?
Whilst all the rest of our fraternity
In feare of that greate tempest weare att prayers,
Wee too pickt out that tyme of least suspition
And in the orchard hand to hand weare att it.

Fr. Rich. Tis trew for blooddy noses; and, Fryar Jhon,
As you lyke that which is allredy past
So chalendge mee hereafter. But whence cam
Those sweete and delicate voyces?

Fr. Jhon. I bare part In theire sadd quire though none of these yet knw't. But peace: our Father Abbat.

Enter the Abbot with other fryars.

Abbott. Morrow, soonns,
An early blessinge on you, if as the larke
Rysen beetymes still to salute the soon,
So your devotion pluckes you from your bedds
Beefore your hower unto your orisons.
Did you not heare a musicall complaynt
Of women that in sadd and mournefull tones
Bewayld theire late disasters, harshly answerd
By a churlish echo?

Fr. Jhon. Som such thinge wee heard.

Fr. Rich. The noates still persist with mee.

Pal. There appeares
In his grave lookes bothe zeele and charity;
Letts to his sight boldly expose ourselfes.
Hayle, reverent father!

Abbot. What are you poore soules Thus wett and wether-bitt?

Scrib. Ere you demand
Further from us, letts tast your Christian charity,
Som fyare, som harbor, least ere our sadd tale
Bee fully tould wee perishe.

Abbot. Why, whence came you?

Pal. From sea; our shipp last night in the great storme
Cast on these rocks and split; this the fyrst place
Exposed unto our eyes to begge releiff.
But oh I faynt.

Abbot. Some[76] faggotts instantly:
Hott brothes, hott water for them, and warme cloathes.
Whome the high powers miraculously preserve,
Whome even the merciles waves have borne ashore,
Shall we soe sinke a land? Even wee our selfes
That lyve and eate by others charity,
To others shall not wee bee charitable?
All succor, all supply that can be given,
They from our hands shall tast.

Fr. Jhon. Shall we remove them Into the cloyster?

Fr. Rich. Tis agaynst our oath On any, though the great'st, extremity To addmitt women thether.

Abbot. That I knowe:
Yet in som out-office see them chear'd,
Want nothinge that the cloyster can affourd.
Theire bewtyes, though my eye be bleynd at them,
Deserve no lesse; I looke on theire distresse
And that I pitty. Ech one lend a hand
To take off from theire present misery
And ease theire tender shoulders; when they are cheer'd
And better comforted, I'l finde occatione
To enquire further from them.

Pal. Heaven be as kind To you as you to us!

Abb. Feare not fayre damselles:
This place, though not within the monastery,
Yet stands within the cloysters previledge
And shallbee unto you a sanctuary.

Scrib. No other wee expect it.

Abb. Guide them in: [Bell ring. Bewty and youthe to pitty 'tis no sinne.

The bell ringes to mattens. Enter the Lord de Averne and his Lady. Dennis and others.

Fr. Jhon. Harke, the bell ringes to mattens.

Fr. Rich. See withall
Our noble patron with his lovely lady
Prepare for theire devotion. Nowe, Friar Jhon,
Your letcherous eye is conninge.

Fr. Jhon. I knowe my place.

Abbott. Way for our noble founder!

L. Aberne. Morrowe, father; So to the rest of all the brotherhood.

[The quire and musick; the fryars make a lane
with ducks and obeysance.

Voyces. Te tuosque semper, oh semper beamus, Et salvos vos venisse, o venisse gaudeamus.

Fr. Jhon. Good daye to our fayre foundresse!

Lady. Mercy, Fryar Jhon; Above the rest you are still dutifull, For which wee kindly thanke you.

[Exeunt: manet Jhon.

Fr. Jhon. Kindly thanke you!
Nay, smyld withall! allthough that I have more
Then a monthes mind[77] to these younge harletryes
Yet heares the grownd on which I fyrst must build
And ryse my fortunes many steepes[78] hye.
Nay, I perhapps, ere they can drye there smocks,
Will putt th'affayre in motion, whyle these are
Att solleme mattens. I'l take pen and wryte,
And sett my mind downe in so quaint a strayne
Shall make her laughe and tickle, whylst I laughe
And tickle with the thought on't, still presuminge
These lookes, these smyles, these favours, this sweete language
Could never breathe, butt have theire byrthe from love.
But how to ha'tt delivered? there's the dowbt.
Tush I have plott for that too; hee, no questione,
That sett mee on to compasse this my will,
May when the up-shoote comes assist mee still.

[Exit.

SCENA 2.

[Tempest. Thunder.

Enter 2 Fishermen.

1st Fish. The trobled sea is yet scarce navigable
Synce the last tempest: yet wee that only lyv
By our owne sweatt and labour, nor cann eate
Beffore[79] wee fetch our foode out of the sea,
Must ventur thoughe with daunger or bee suer
With empty stomakes go unsupt to bed.

2nd Fish. And so it often happens.

1 Fish. See the cordaige
Be stronge and tight, the netts with all theire stringes,
Plometts, and corks, well plac't for hookes and bates,
This daye wee shall have little use of them:
The wind's still hye, beare but a gentle sayle
And hazard not the channele. Keepe alonge
Close by the shoare, the rocks will shelter us
And may perhapps affoord us lobsters, praunes,
Shrimps, crabbes, and such lyke shell fishe; hence[80] we may
Hunt the sea urchen, and with safety too;
There's many holde hime for a dayntye fishe,
Hee sells well in the markett. That poore men
Are forct too, for a slender competens,
A little to prolonge a wretched lyfe!

2 Fish. Com then lett us weighe anchor and aboord: The soone is upp allredy.

Enter the Clowne.

Clowne. If ever menn weare madd then suer my master is not well in his witts, and all about this wenshe; here's such sendeinge and seekeinge, hurriinge and posteinge, and all to no purpose. I have nowe some thyrty errands to deliver and knowe not to whome nor where, what nor to which place fyrst; hee's gone on to the citty and sent mee back to the villaige, whither his frend travelled[81] one waye, hee another, and I a thyrd contrary from them boathe; he cannott beleeve his inquiry to be well doone but hee must send me to doo't over againe. I have asked all I mett and demanded of all I have seene.[82] But what are theese? these should bee fishermen. Good morrowe, you sea theeves.[83]

1 Fish. You call us theeves that may proove honester Than many goe for trewe[84] men on the shore.

Clowne. Sawe[85] you not passe this [way] an ould bald fellowe hutch-shoolderd, crooked nos'd, beetle browd, with a visadge lowreing and a looke skowlinge; one that heaven hates and every good man abhors; a cheatinge raskall and an ugly slave,—did note such passe you?

1 Fish. If such a one as you describe you inquire for,
Mee thinks, my frend, thou hast mistooke thy way;
Thou shouldst have sought him at the gallowes rather,
There such are soonest fownd.

Clowne. Byrlady, worst answered of a playne fellowe; but that you may knowe him the better, hee had too handsome streete-singing-fact lasses in his companye.

2 Fish. And for such creatures y'had best search the stewes O'th citty; this our villadge yields none such. This fellowe doth but flowte us; letts aboord.

1 Fish. Inquire for us of wenshes? tush, wee fishe For no such perewinkles; farewell flesh mongere.

[Ex. Fish.

Clowne. No wonder these fellowes pretend to be witty; for understandinge, so manye have lost there witts as … they have fisht for it and in som drawenett or other have caught it. But where might these lost shrewes bee? I suspect this pestiferous Je vous prie hathe putt some slovenly tricke or other to cheate my mayster boathe of his ware and mony.

Enter Scribonia with an empty pale to y'e Clow.

Scribon. Thus beinge chered with warmth, and change of clothes,
With all such comforts as the cloyster yeelds,
I am dyrected to a neighbours by
For water to refreshe and wash our selves.
And this shoold bee the howse.

Clowne. What! not Scribonia, One of the flock that's missing?

Scrib. Oh sweete Jayms, Where is your noble maister?

Clowne. Nay, sweete rogue, Where is his bewteous mystresse?

Scrib. Heare within.

Clowne. In this place joyninge to the monastery? And Mildewe too?

Scrib. Rott on that villeyne! no.

Clowne. Hee promist to bringe you too alonge and meete with my master and som others of his frends att supper.

Scrib. Can such men, ever false unto theire God, Keepe faythe with men at any tyme?

_Clowne. _But staye, staye, there's one riddle I cannot expound: howe com thou so suddenly to lepp out of a howse of roguery into a howse of religion, from a stewes to a cloyster, from beastleness to blessednes and from a sacrilegious place to a sanctuary?

Scrib. Such was the grace heaven sent us, who from perill,
Danger of lyfe, the extreamest of all extreames
Hathe brought us to the happy patronage
Of this most reverent abbott.

Clowne. What dangers? what extreames?

Scrib. From the sea's fury, drowneing; for last night Our shipp was splitt, wee cast upon these rocks.

Clowne. Sayd in a jest, in deede! Shipwreck by land![86] I perceive you tooke the woodden waggen for a ship and the violent rayne for the sea, and by cause some one of the wheeles broake and you cast into some water plashe, you thought the shipp had splitt and you had bene in danger of drowneinge.

Scrib. Are you then ignorant how, late in the even,
With purpose to make better sale of us
And to defraude thy maister, hee shipt us
With all the gold and jewels that hee had,
All which save wee are perisht?

Clowne. But that caterpiller, that ould catamiting cankerworme, what's become of him?

Scrib. Dead I hope, with drinkinge of salte water.

Clowne. I would all of his profession had pledged him the same healthe. But how doth Palestra take this?

Scrib. Gladd to bee rid of such a slavery,
Yet sadly weepinge for her casket's losse,
That which included ample testimony
Bothe of her name and parents.

Clowne. All her ill luck go with it![87]—Heere will be simple newes to bringe to my mayster when hee hears shee hath bene shippwreckt! Il make him beleeve I went a fishinge for her to sea and eather drewe her ashore in my netts, or batinge my hooke strooke her and drewe her upp by the gills with myne angle. Make you hast for I'l staye till you come back. [Exit.

Scrib. But this delaye had allmost putt me from What I was sent about; yes this is the place. [Knocks.

Enter Godfrey.

[Godf.] Whoes that that offers violens to these gates That never yet offended? What want you?

Scrib. That which the earthe Dothe forebidd none, and freely yelds to all, A little fayre springe water.

Godfr.—One of those giurles
Beelyke this morninge shippwrackt and now scapt?
A dainty peece of maydes fleshe. Such sweete bitts
Are not heare often swallowed, and my mouth
Waters at this fine morsell.

Scrib. Water, frend; Tis that I crave for heaven's sake.

Godfr. Wee have none Of guift, unless you by't.

Scrib. Will you sell that The earthe affourds you gratis, and sett pryse Of what a foe would yeeld an enemy?

Godfr. Not, pretty lasse, so thou'lt afford mee that,
Freely and without bargen, which not only
One frend will to another but oft tymes
A stranger to a stranger.

Scrib. What's that, prithee?

Godfr. Only a kisse, sweete wensh.

Scrib. Ye are too familiar, I'l by none at that pryse: or fill my pale Or I'l returne back empty.

Godfr. Well for once
I will not greatly stand out, yet in hope,
That what att our fyrst meetinge you'l not grant
You'l not denye at partinge; reatch thy pale.

Scrib. Quick as you love mee.

Godfr. As you love mee! right: Who[88] ever lov'd that lov'd not att fyrst sight? The poet's excellent sayeinge. [Exit[89] to draw water.

Scrib. What shall I saye or howe shall I excuse
This my longe staye? but nowe I cast myne eyes
Backe on the roughe yet unappeased seas,
I quake to thinke upon our dangers past.
But see the fearefull object of a death
More menacinge and affrightfull, a sea monster
Cast from the deepes to swallow us ashore!
Malevolent fate and black desaster still
Pursues us to all places, but of all
Enter Myldew and Sarlaboys to her.
This, this the greatest, and to this one compard
All that are past but trifles. Oh that grand maister
Of mechall[90] lusts, that bulke of brothelree,
That stillary of all infectious sinnes,
Hath scapt the wrack, and with his fellowe guest
And partner in corruption makes this waye,
And with no tarde pace. Where shall I hyde mee!
Whether shall I fly to Palestra back
And with this sadd relation kill her quite
That's scarce recovered! rather, you hy powers,
Then to prolonge our griefes, shorten our howers.
[Exit.

Godfr. Where[91] is my daynty damosella? where?
Mee thought the water mett mee the half way
And lept up full three stepps to meete my pale.
This 'tis when as a man goes willingly
About his busines. Howe fresh a kisse will tast
From her whyte lipps! and every part besydes
From head to toe have bin so lately duckt
And rincht in the salt water. Wheres my sweete?
Not heare? no where? why, hoe, my whytinge mopp[92]
Late scapt from feedinge haddocks! ha, what, gone?
Nay then, go thou too that shee sent mee for,
To him that next shall find thee! yet not so:
This learned pale instructs mee by these letters
That it beelonges unto this monastery.
And iff it shoold be lost by my default
I may be chardged with theft or sacriledge.
No, I'l deliver it to the owners suer,[93]
And this the place.

Enter the Bawde Mildewe and Sarlaboyse.

Mild. Hee that woold stoody to bee miserable
Lett him forsake the land and putt to sea.
What widgeing,[94] that hath any voyce at all,
Would trust his safety to a rotten planke
That hath on earthe sounde footinge!

Sarlab. None but madmen.

Mild. Why thou of none, thrifty and well advised,
Stryvest thou to make mee such, where's now the gayne
And proffitt promist? the riche marchandyse
Of lust and whooringe? the greate usury
Got by the sale of wantons? these cursed jewelryes
With all the wealthe and treasure that I had,[95]
All perisht in one bottom, and all, all,
Through thy malicious counsell.

Sarlab. Curse thy selfe.
The trusty bark, ore laden with thy sinnes,
Baudryes, grosse lyes, thy theft and perjuryes
Beesydes the burdene of thy ill gott gooddes,
Not able to indure so greate a weight
Was forct to sinke beneathe them.[96]

Mild. Out, dogge!

Sarl. Out, devill!

Mild. By thee I am made nothinge. Oh my giurles
You sweete and never faylinge marchandyse,
Comodityes in all coasts, worthy coyne,
Christiane or heathen! by whom in distresses
I coold have raysed a fortune! more undoone
That I should loose you thus!

Sarl. I knowe hee had rather
See halfe a hundred of them burnt[97] a land
Then one destroyde by water. But, oh Neptune,
I feare I have supt so much of thy salt brothe
Twill bringe mee to a feavour.

Mild. Oh my Palestra And fayre Scribonia, weare but you too safe, Yet som hope weare reserved me.

Sarl. I praye, Mildewe, When you so early to the bottom dyv'd, For whom weare you a fishinge?

Mild. Marry, for maydens; Woold I knewe howe to catch them. But my gutts, Howe they are sweld with sea brine!

Sarl. Tis good phisick To cure thee of the mangy.

Mild. Wretched man!
That have no more left of a magazine
Then these wett cloathes upon mee, nay the woorst
Of all I had and purposely put on
Only to lyv a shipp-board.

Sarl. Once to-day Thou wert in wealthe above mee, nowe the seas have Left us an equall portion.

Mild. In all the wourld I vowe I am not woorthe a lighted faggott Or a poore pan of charcoale.

Sarl. Justly punisht
Thou that hast all thy lyfe tyme dealt in fyre-woorks,
Stoves and hott bathes to sweet in, nowe to have
Thy teethe to falter in thy head for could
Nimbler then virginall Jacks.[98]

Mild. Th'art a sweete guest.

Sarl. Too good for such an host, better to have bin
Lodgd in som spittle; or, if possible,
To bee imprisoned in som surgeon's box
That smells of salves and plasters.

Mild. Nowe what sharke Or wyde-mouth'd whale shall swallowe upp my budgett, May it at th'instant choake him!

Sarl. Cursedly twas got, And nowe thy curse goes with it.

Mild. But those giurles!
Nought so much greives mee as to part with them
Before they lost theire maiden-headds. Had they lyvd
Till I had seen them women, and oth' trade,
My tast and care bestowed to bringe them upp
I should have thought well spent, which nowe with them
Is meerely cast away.

Enter Godfrey.

Sarlab. Peace now your pratinge and heare another spirit.

Godfr.[99] The pale religious, which was the pledge
Of a kisse lascivious, I have given backe,
Ey, and to boote the water; but within
There's such a coyle betwixt the 2 young giurles
Such quakinge, shakinge, quiveringe, shiveringe
Such cryeinge, and such talk of flyinge, then of hyding,
And that there's no abydinge; one cryes out and calls,
The others redy to breake downe the walls;
Then weepinge they whisper together,
And saye they woold roone if they knew whither,
And are indeede putt to such strange affrights
That I was afrayde they weare hunted with sprights,
And therefore cam and left them: lass, poor giurles,
They are in piteous feare.

Mild. Hee talkt of guerles: why may not these bee they, Escapt as wee? staye, younge man, good frend, staye.

Godf. Too ould drown'd ratts: I'l have som sport with them, And though I pitty those I'l play with these.

Mild. What gurles weare those thou spakest of?

Sarl. Tell us fyrst Where wee might finde som comfort.

Godf. Lett us oh lett us bee advys'd
And living still to all men,
So though wee bee but midle sizd
Wee shalbe held no small men.

Mild. Concerning these fayre damosels, speake of that.

Sarl. Which now concernes us most, where may wee meete With warmth, with foode, and shelter?

Godf. Oh thou that dost demand of mee
Som fyre, som meate and harbor,
I see thou lately hast ben washt,
Hath Neptune ben thy barbor?

Sarl. This fellowe mearely flowtes our misery, And laughs att our distresses.

Mild. But, kind frende, Concerninge these yonge women, are they fayre?

Godf. Fayre flesh and cleane they bothe appeare And not lyke gypsies umber'd.

Mild. How many?

Godf. Just as thou and I when wee are Once but number'd.

Mild. Oh, Sarleboys, there's comfort in these woords; They have allredy warmed my hart within, Why may not these bee they?

Sarl. Bee they or not,
I had rather see one caudell downe my throate,
To wash downe this salt-water, than bee mayster
Of all the wenshes lyveinge.

Mild. Oh where, where, Where might I see too such?

Godf. Thou that goest sydewayes lyke a crabb, gapst on mee
lyke an oyster,
Followe thy flat nose and smell them there, in th'out part of
this cloyster.

Mild. Oh maye this peece of earthe proove happy to mee As hath the sea bin fatall.

Sarl. I'l followe and coold wish Boath cloyster and whole villadge weare a fyre Only to dry my clothes by.

Godf. Marry hange you You that so late scaped drowning for I take you For too pestiferous rascalls.

Exeunt.

Explicit Actus 2.

Act 3.

SCENE 1.

Enter the Lady de Averne with a letter in her hand readinge, and with her mayde.

Lady. And howe came you by this?

Mayde. Followinge you to th'chappell
And I protest not thinking anythinge,
Fryar Jhon o'th suddeine pluckt mee by the sleeve
And whisperd in myne eare to give that to you,
But privatly, bycause it was a thinge
Only toweard your person.

Lady. Twas well doonne; But prithee do no more so, for this tyme Tak't for a warninge.

Mayde. Madam I am skool'd.

Lady. Doo so, or ever loose me. Heeres[100] sweet stuffe!
Can this be in a vowed monastick lyfe
Or to be fownd in churchmen? 'tis a question
Whether to smyle or vex, to laughe or storme,
Bycause in this I finde the cause of boathe.
What might this sawcy fellowe spy in mee
To incorradge such a boldnes? yes this letter
Instructs mee what: he seythe my affability
And modest smiles, still gracinge his salutes,
Moovd him to wryte. Oh what a chary care then
Had womene neede have boathe of lipps and eyes
When every fayre woord's censur'd liberty,
And every kind looke meere licensiousnes!
I have bin hitherto so greate a stranger
To these unus'd temptations that in truthe
I knowe not howe to take this. Sylly fryar!
Madnes or folly, one of these't must bee.
If th'one I pity, at the other laughe,
And so no more reguard it.

Maid. Madam, if ought bee in that letter ill, Mee thinks 'tis good [that] you can tak't so well.

Lady. Peace you; a braineles weake, besotted fellowe!
But lett mee better recollect myself.
Madnes nor folly, and add lust to them,
Durst not in fury, heate, or Ignorans,
Have tempted my unquestioned chastity
Without a fowrth abetter, jealousy.
The more I ponder that, I more suspect
By that my Lord should have a hand in this,
And,[101] knowinge there's such difference in our yeares,
To proove my feythe might putt this triall on mee.
Else how durst such a poore penurious fryar
Oppose such an unheard of Impudens
Gaynst my incensed fury and revendge?
My best is therefore, as I am innocent,
To stooddy myne owne safety, showe this letter,
Which one [?] my charity woold have conceiled,
And rather give him upp a sacrifice
To my lord's just incensement then indanger
Myne owne unblemisht truthe and loyalty
By incurringe his displeasure; heare hee coms.

Enter the Lord de Averne with som followers; his man Denis

L. Averne. Howe, Lady? reading?

Lady. Yes, a letter, sir.

L. Averne. Imparts it any newes?

Lady. Yes, syr, strange newes, And scarce to bee beleaved.

Lord Av. Forreyne.

Lady. Nay, domestick, Tis howsehould busines all.

Lord Av. May I impart it?

Lady. Oh, syr, in any case,
As one it most concernes; but I intreate you,
Reade it with patiens; the simplicity
Of him that writte it will afford you mirthe,
Or else his mallice spleane.—Nowe by his temper
And change of countenance I shall easily find
Whose hand was cheife in this.

Lord Av. All leave the place.

Denis. We shall, syr.

Lord Av. Possible
That this shoold bee in man, nay in man vowed
Unto a strickt abstemious chastity!
From my owne creature and from one I feede,
Nay from a place built in my holiest vowes,
Establisht in my purpose in my lyfe,
Maintayn'd from my revenue, after death
Firm'd and assur'd to all posterityes—
That that shoold breede such vipers!

Lady. Patiens, syr; the fellowe suer is madd.

Lord Av. I can be madd as hee too and I will.
Thus to abuse my goodnes! in a deede
Som woold hold meritorious, att the least
Intended for an act of piety,
To suffer in my zeale! nay to bee mockt
In my devotion, by these empty drones
That feede upon the honey of my hyve!
To invert my good intentements, turne this nest
[Ink: paper ready.
I built for prayer unto a bedd of sinnes!
Which thus I'l punish; this religious place,
Once vowed to sanctity, I'l undermyne
And in one instant blowe the structure upp
With all th'unhallowed covent.

Lady. Praye, no extreames: Where one offends shall for his heighnous fact So many suffer? there's no justyce in't.

Lord Av. Som justyce I would showe them heare on earthe Before they finde it multiplyed in heaven.

Lady. For my sake, syr, do not for one man's error
Destroy a woorke of perpetuity,
By which your name shall lyve. One man offends;
Lett the delinquent suffer.

Lord Av. So't shallbe, And thou hast well advysed. Som pen and Inke theire!

Lady. What purpose you?

Lord Av. That's soly to my selfe And in my fyxt thoughts stands irreproovable.

Enter Dennis with pen, inke, and paper.

Syr, heares pen inke and paper.

Lord Av. To his letter My self will give him answer. (writes)

Denis. Suer all's not well that on the suddane thus My lord is so distempered.

Lady. I have, I feare,
Styr'd such a heate, that nought save blood will quensh:
But wish my teares might doo't; hee's full of storme,
And that in him will not bee easily calmd.
His rage and troble both pronounce him guiltles
Of this attempt, which makes mee rather doubt
Hee may proove too seveare in his revendge,
Which I with all indevour will prevent
Yet to the most censorious I appeale,
What coold I lesse have doone to save myne honor
From suffringe beneathe skandall?

Lord Av. See, heare's all:
'Tis short and sweete, wryte this in your own hand
Without exchange of the least sillable.
Insert in copiinge no suspitious dash,
No doubtfull comma; then subscribe your name,
Seal't then with your own signet and dispatche it
As I will have dyrected; doo't, I charge you,
Without the least demurre or fallacy.
By dooinge this you shall prevent distrust
Or future breach beetwixt us; you shall further
Expresse a just obediens.

Lady. Syr, I shall, What ere your concealed purpose bee, I shall.

Lord Av. Provyde mee horses, I will ryde.

Denis. When, syr?

Lord Av. Instantly, after dinner, and gie't out I am not to returne till three dayes hence, So spreade it throughe the howse.

Denis. What followers, Syr, Meane you to take alonge?

Lord Av. Thyself, no more, For 'tis a private busines, and withall; Provyde mee,—harke thyne eare.

Denis. A stronge one, Syrr.

Lord Av. One that will howld; withall give pryvate order
At night the guarden gates may bee left open,
By whiche wee may returne unknowne to any.
What I intend lyes heare.

Denis. All wee servants Are bownd to doo, but not examine what; That's out of our comission.

Lord Av. 'Twixt us too I shall resolve thee further.

Denis. I am gone, Syr.

Lord Av. Nowe, sweete ladye, have you doon?

Lady. As you commanded.

Lord Av. Itt wants nothinge nowe
But seale and superscription; I'l see't doone.
And marke mee nowe; at evensonge, passinge through
The cloyster to the chappell, when the fryar
Amongst the rest bowes with his wonted duckes,
Add rather then deminish from your smiles
And wonted favours. Let this shee post then
Conveigh this letter to the fryar's close fist,
Who no dowbt gapes for answer.

Lady. All shall bee
As you instructe; but punishe, syr, with pitty;
Putt him to payne or shame, but deathe, alas,
Is too seveare.

Lord Av. Tush, wyfe, feare not; think'st thou Ile quale[102] a churchman? [Exeunt.

SCENE 2.

Enter after a great noyse within, the Clowne, meetinge with Ashburne and Godfrey.

Clowne. If this villadge bee inhabited with men as this place within is with monsters; if with men that have eyes and can distinguishe bewty, or that have hartes and therfore saver of pitty; if you bee fathers and know what belonges to children, or christians and therefore what is ment by charity; if husbandmen and have hope of your harvest, or marchants of your trade's increase; if fishermen that would thryve by your labours, or any of all these that would be knowne by your honesty—

Ashburne. Many of those thou namest have place in us, Great'st part if not all.

Clowne. Then lend your helpeinge hands to succor, releive, defend, deliver, save, serve, patronadge, abett and mynteyn—

Ashb. Whom, what?

Clowne. Bewty, vertue, purity, syncerity, softnes, sweetenes, innocens, and chastity.

Ashb. Gainst what? gainst whome?

Cl. Oppression, frawde, rudenes, reproch, synn, shame, debate, discourse, theft, rapine, contempt of religion and breach of sanctury, against a magazine of misdemeanors and a whole monopoly of mischeif.

Godf. I knowe the busines, syr, if in that place
These are the too distressed wrecks at sea
We sawe this morninge floatinge, sweeter guerles
I never yet sett ey on, and opprest
By too ill lookeinge raskells that to warme them
Wisht all the towne a bonefire—

Ashb. Miscreant slaves!
For one younge damsell's sake I once cald daughter,
And in the absens of there greater frends,
I'l stand betwixt them and these injuryes.

Clowne. These are they after whome I have been seeking, and my mayster was enquiringe. If you will but secure them heare in the villadge whilst I carry woord to my mayster in the citty, you shall doo me a curtesye and him a most noble offyce.[103]

Ashb. It was no more then promisse, and I shoold
Fayle in my goodnes not to see that doone.
Post to thy mayster, bid him meete us heare:
Mean tyme my menn shall rayse the villagers
Boathe in the reskewe of these innocent maydes
And in defens of holly priveledge.

Clowne. I fly lyke the winds.

Godf. And I'l go call the pesants To rayse another tempest.

[Exeunt[104] Clown and Godfrey.

Ashb. Hasten boathe And till ayde com I'l laye myne eare and listen To heare what further coyle is kept within: All's silent on the sudden. Musick.

[Song within.]

(1) Helpe, Helpe, oh ayde a wretched mayde
or els we are undoon then.

(2) And have I caught, and have I caught you?
in vayne it is to roonne then.

(1) Som reskewe then[105] from gods or men
redeeme us from these crosses!

(2) Tis all in vayne, since nowe I gaine
part of my former losses.

(1) Oh heaven, defend! what, yet no end
of these our strange desasters?

(2) No favour's knowne, no pittye's showne
to them that fly there maysters.

(1) Why to defame, reproch, and shame
poor innocents thus dragge yee?

(2) With[106] your offens there's no dispence:
away then! wherefore lagge yee?

A tumult within and sudden noyse. Enter at one doore Godfrey with country fellowes for there reskewe, at the other Mildewe, Sarlaboys, Palestra, Scribonia.

Palest. Where, in what place shall wee bestowe our selfes From this injust man's fury?

Scrib. If compeld And dragg'd from sanctuary by prophane hands, Where shall we flye to safety?

Ashb. Wheither, if
Not unto us? wee often see the gods
Give and bequeathe there justyce unto men,
Which wee as fythefully [sic] will see performed.

All. Downe with these saucy companyons!

Godf. Downe with these sacraligious silsepaereales [?], these unsanctified Sarlaboyses that woold make a very seralia of the sanctuary, and are meare renegadoes to all religion!

Mild. Stay, hold, are you bandetty? rovers, theives,
And wayte you heare to robb and pilladge us
The sea so late hathe ryfled? these are myne,
My chattells and my goodes, nor can you cease them
As wrecks; I appeale unto the admirall.

Ash. His power I in his absens will supply,
And cease yee all as forfett; these as goodds
You as superfluous ladinge, till that coort
Shall compremise betwixt us.

Mild. I'the meanetyme
Lett mee possesse myne owne; these are my slaves
My utensills, my mooveables, and bought
With myne owne private coyne.

Sarl. To which I am witnes.

Mild. And by the heyre I'l dragge them as myne owne, Wear't from the holly alter.

Pal. Succor!

Scrib. Helpe!

Ashb. Are they not Christians?

Mild. Yes.

Ash. What nation?

Mild. Englishe.

Ashb. In myne owne country borne and shall not I Stand as theire champion then? I tell thee, pesant, England's, no broode for slaves.

Pal. Oh Syr to you Wee fly as to a father.

Ashb. And I'l guard you As weare you myne owne children.

Mild. Gainst there lord, Owner and mayster?

Ashb. None is lordd with us
But such as are freeborne; our Christian lawes
Do not allowe such to bee bought or sould
For any Bawde or pander to hyre such
To comon prostitution. Heere they stand:
Tutch but a garment, nay a heyre of theres
With thy least finger, thy bald head I'l sinke
Belowe thy gowtye foote.

Mild. I am opprest, Is theire no lawe in France?

Ashb. Yes, Syr, to punish These chastityes seducers.

Mild. Give me fyar,
I will not leive of all this monastery
Of you or these, of what's combustible,
Naye of my self, one moiety unconsumed.

Godf. His frend before him wisht the towne a fyre, Now hee would burne the cloyster: too arch-pillers![107]

Ashb. And lyke such
Our purpose is to use them. Dare not, miscreant,
But to give these a menace whom thou calst thyne,
No not by beck or nod; if thou but styer [stir]
To doo unto this howse of sanctity
Damadge or outrage, I will lay thee prostrate
Beneathe these staves and halberts.

Mild. Is this lawe?

Godf. Yes Staffords[108] lawe.

Ashb. Naye, feare not, pretty guerles;
The fryars them selfs, weare they not at theire prayers
Wold have doon more than this in just defens
Of theire immunityes; but in theire absens
I stand for them, nor shall you part from hence
Or dare to sqeelche till they themselves be judge.
Of injurye doone to this sacred place,
Or such as I have sent for make appearance
To clayme what thou unjustly calst thyne owne.

Godf. Nay, thou shall stand; wee have too stringes to our Bow.

Ashb. If hee but styer then stryke.

Mild. This Stafford law,
Which I till nowe heard never nam'd in France,
Is for the present a more fearefull coort
Then chancery or star-chamber. I want motion;
You have made [me] a statue, a meere Imadge.

Godf.[109] Styer and thou diest: weele maule you.

Mild. Iff heare I can have none, lett me depart To seake elcewhere for justyce.

Sarl. Keepe him prisoner, And sett mee free to finde some advocate To pleade in his just cause.

Godf. Neather styrre In payne of too Frensh crownes, and they so crack[t] Never more to passe for currant.

Ashb. That presume.

Mild. Misery of miseryes! I am bound hand and foote, And yet boath legges and armes at liberty.

Godf. Yes by the lawe cald Stafforde.

Enter Mr. Raphael, Mr. Treadway and the Clowne.

Raph. Durst then the slave use my Palestra thus, And dragge her by the heyre from sanctuary?

Clowne. Most trew, Syr.

Raph. Why did'st not kill him?

Clowne. If I had had but a swoard I had doon't, but I sought the villadge through and cold find neare a cutter.

Raph. Weare there no skattered stones lye in the streete To have beate his breynes out?

Clowne. Not a stone to throwe att a dogg.

Raph. Had'st thou not heeles

Clowne. Yes to have kickt him lyke a dogge, but I reserved them to roon the more nimbly about your busines.

Pal. I nowe spye a newe sanctuary, his armes, In which I may pursue security. My Raphael!

Raph. My Palestra, art thou safe?
Beefore I give due thankes to this good man,
Which tyme shall paye in all pluralityes,
Oh shewe mee but that monster of mankind
And shame of men on whom to bee revendgd!

Mild. The storme at sea was not more terrible Then this the land now threatens; againe undoone, Over and over wretched!

Clowne. See the limbe Of his ould syre the Devill.

Raph. Perjured slave!
Perfidious, but that I abhore to take
The hangman's office from him, this should open
A doore by which thy black soule should fly out
Unto assured damnation.

Tread. Bee more patient; Proceede with him after a legal course, And bee not sweyde by fury.

Raph. Well advys'd: What can thy false toonge pleide in thy excuse, Thou volume of all vyces?

Mild. Why, what not?

Raph. Is thy hart sear'd, thy browe made impudent,
And all thy malefactions crownd[110] with lyes
Against just testates and apparent truthes?
When I had payde full ransom for this pryze,
Why didst thou beare her hence?

Mild. I did not doo't,— These bee my witnes; have I borne her hence When I have brought her to thee?

Raph. Thy bawdes rhethorick Shall not excuse thee thus. Frends guarde him safe.

Clowne. We will see his fooles coate guarded,[111] ey and reguarded too from slipping out of our fingers.

Godf.[112] Weel finde amongst us more then … him; fower elbowes elbowe him off all sydes, gentlemen. It shall appeare beefore hee parts with us that hee hathe shewed him self no better then a coxcomb.

Tread. Beleeve mee nowe, I do not blame my frende
To fishe in trobled streames for such a pearle,
Or digge in black mowled for so ritch a myne;
But to redeeme a chast and inocent sowle
Forthe from the fierye jawes of lust and hell,
Exprest a most comended charitye.
What second bewtyes that … frend,
That tremblinge flyes from his infectious ills
To patronise her youth and inocence
Beneathe that goode man's goodnes—

Raph. Alyke suffers
With her in all distresses, lyke in years,
In vertue, no way differing of our nation;
Who knowes but neare all yee too?

Tread. I feele somthinge
Growinge on mee, I know not howe to style,
Pitty or love, synce it hath tast of boathe.
And sinne itt weare such parity in all thinges,
Age, mindes, wrecks, bondadge, pursiutes, injuryes
Shoold nowe bee separate; the one be freede
The t'other left in durance, for the want
And pious tender of so smalle a somme.
I somwhat have in purpose.

Raph. Dragge them boathe Before the magistrate.

Sarlab. Mee? wherefore? why?

Godf. As his abettor and ill counseller: One would have burnt the villadge, and the other Threatned to fyar the cloyster.

Raph. Boathe acts capitall And worthy seveare censure.

Mild. Though thou pleedst interest
In waye of earnest in Palestra, yet
Robb mee not quite, give me the tother backe,
My only portion left me by the sea
And stock to sett upp trade by.

Scrib. Rather torture mee With any violent deathe.

Tread. Leive them in trust And chardge of this grave reverent gentleman, Untill you heire the sentence of the coort.

Ashb. I willingly accept theire patronadge: Heere att my howse they shall have meate and harbour.

Raph. Nobly spoke: Meane tyme hale these to'th coort.

Mild. My Palestra, What? not one woord of pitye?

Raph. Stopp his mouthe.

Mild. My Scribonia, Wilt thou intreate them neather?

Tread. Tyme's but trifled; Away with them to justyce!

Mild. Take my skinne then, Synce nothinge else is left mee.

Clown. That's rotten allredy and will neather make goodd leather nor parchement … theire.

[Exeunt.

Ashb. Com, damsalls, followe mee where I shall leade:
I have a cross wyfe at home I tell you that,
But one that I presume will not bee jealous
Of too such harmeles sowles.

Pal. You are to us A patron and defender.

Scrib. Bounde unto you Not as an host but father.

[Exeunt.

SCENA 3.

Enter the Lord de Averne, his Lady, Dennis and the waytinge mayde.

Lord Av. Are all thinges redye as I gave in chardge?

Denys. Redy, syr.

Lord Av. Inoughe; and you deliver'd it To his owne hands?

Mayde. I did.

Lord Av. Howe did hee tak't?

Mayde. With smiles and seeminge joy.

Lord Av. Sorrowe and shame I feare will bee the sadd end on't.

Lady Av. Syr, you'r troubled.

Lord Av. I would not have you so; pray, to your rest;
You shall remove mee from all jelosyes
If you betake you to your sowndest sleeps,
And without more inquiry.

Lady Av. Syr, remember
That all offences are not woorthy deathe:
Fellowny, murder, treason and such lyke
Of that grosse nature maye be capitall;
Not folly, error, trespasse.

Lord Av. You advyse well,
Lett mee advyse you lyke-wyse: instantly
Retyre in to your chamber, without noyse
Reply or question, least part of that rage
Is bent gainst him you turne upon your self,
Which is not for your safety.

Lady Av. Syr, good night. [Exit.[113]

Lord Av. How goes the hower?

Denis. Tis almost tenn.

Lord Av. The tyme of our appointment: you attend
Upon his knocks and give him free admittans;
Beinge entred, refer him into this place;
That doon, returne then to your Ladye's chamber
There locke your self fast in.

Mayde. My lorde, I shall.— Poore fryare, I feare theyl put thee to thy penance Before they have confest thee.

Lord Av. Come, withdrawe; The watchwoordes not yet given.

Enter the Fryar with a letter.

Fr. Jhon. 'Tis her owne pen, I knwe it, synce shee sett
Her hand to establishe our foundation,
And, sweete soule, shee hath writt a second tyme
To build mee upp anewe:—My Lord is ridd
A three dayes jorney, loose not this advantadge
But take tyme by the fore-topp. Yes I will
By the fore-topp and topp-gallant. At the posterne
Shee to whose hand you gave your letter, Fryar,
Attends for your despatch:—my busines
I hope shalbee despatcht then:—Fare you well,
Fayle mee this night and ever. I'l sooner forfett
All pleasures, hopes, preferments, with th'assurance
Of a longe lyfe blest with most happy howers,
Then this one night's contentment.

Mayde. Ha, who's theire? Fryar Jhon?

Fr. Jhon. The same: you, mystresse Millisent My Ladye's gentlewoman?

Mayde. I am the closett That treasures all her counsells.

Fr. Jhon. Is all cleare?

Mayde. As such a dark night can bee—to one, I feare, That scarce will looke on daye more.

Fr. Jhon. Where's my lady?

Mayde. Attends you in her chamber.

Fr. Jhon. Guide mee too't, Nay, quickly guerle:—how I allredy surfett In this nights expectation!

Mayde. Staye you heare In this withdraweinge roome, I'l fetch a light For safeguard of your shinnes.

Denis. Shee might have sayde For safeguard of his necke.

Mayde. My sceane's doone; The next act lyes amongst them. [Exit.[114]

Fr. Jhon. My part dothe but beginne nowe and I'l act it
In exquisite cleane linnen; and this capp
Proffred of purpose, least I should smell fryar.
What differ wee i'th darke, save our shaven crowne,
From gentlemen, nay Lords? nature hath araied us
As well as the best layemen: why should lawe
Restreyne from us what is allowed to them?
Lett it curbe fooles and idiots, such as throughe folly
Will not, or nycenes dare not, tast what's sweete,
Alyke made for all pallats.

Lord Av. Howe the slave Insults in his damnation! cease the wretch, I can indure no lonnger.

Fr. Jhon. Such as ban Proffred delights may, if they please, refuse; What's borne with mee I will make bold to use.

Lord Av. And I what thou weart borne too, that's a halter.
Pull without feare or mercy, strangle him
With all his sinnes about him; t'were not else
A revendge worthe my fury.

[Fry: strangled.

Dennis. I dare nowe Lodge him a whole night by my syster's syde, Hee's nowe past strompetting.

Lord Av. Tis night with him, A longe and lastinge night.

Denis. Hee lyes as quiet.
You did well, Fryare, to putt on your cleane linnen;
Twill serve you as a shrowde for a new grave.
Whither shall wee lyft his body?

Lord Av. I am on the suddeine Growne full of thoughts; the horror of the fact Breedes strange seditions in mee.

Denis. Hee perhapps But counterfetts dead sleep. I'l hollowe to him To see if I can wake him.

Lord Av. Trifle not;
The sinne will proove more serious. To a conscience
Startled with blood and murder, what a terror
Is in the deede, being doone, which bredd before
Boathe a delight and longing! This sadd spectacle
Howe itt affrights mee!

Denis. Letts remove itt then.

Lord Av. The sinne it self, the churches malediction,
As doone to one of a sequestred lyfe
And holly order, the lawes penalty,
Being duble forfeture of lyfe and state,
Reproach, shame, infamy, all these incur'd
Through my inconsiderate rashnes!

Denis. My lyfe, too. Howe to prevent the danger of all these?

Lord Av. Ey, that will aske much breyne, much project.

Denis. Sir, Shall we poppe him in som privy?

Lord Av. Duble injurye,
To praye upon the soule and after deathe
Doo to the body such discoortesy;
It neather savours of a generous spyritt
Nor that which wee call manly.

Denis. Anythinge
For a quiett lyfe,[115] but this same wryneckt deathe,
That which still spoyles all drinkinge, 'tis a thinge
I never coold indure; as you are noble
Keepe still my wind pype open.

Lord Av. Out of many Museings[116] for boath our safetyes I have fownd One that's above the rest most probable.

Denis. What, what, I praye, Syr?

Lord Av. Interupt mee not:
Staye I should nowe begett a stratagem
To save myne owne lyfe, myne estate and goodds,
Ey, and secure thee too.

Denis. 'Twere excellent, Syr.

Lord Av. I have project for all these, as willingly To lengthen boathe our lyves, and limitt us Tyme to repent his deathe.

Denis. But howe, I praye, Syr?

Lord Av. Ey, there's the difficulty; but nowe I hav't.
Betwixt us and the cloyster's but one wall,
And that of no greate height; coold wee in private
Conveighe this fryar into the monastery,
It might be then imadgind som of them
Might bee his deathe's-man; which might seeme more probable
Bycause, as I had late intelligens,
There hathe bin stryfe amongst them.

Denis. Better still.

Lord Av. Now howe can wee incurr the least suspect? For what should hee doo from the fryary, Or what seeke heere att this unseasoned hower?

Denis. I apprehende thee; and, to further this,
In the backe yard there is a ladder, Syr:
Mount him upon my back, and I'l conveighe him
Where som, not wee, shall answer for his death.

Lord Av. As desperate wounds still must have desperate cure, So all rash mischeiffes shuld have suddeine shiftes. Wee'I putt it to ye venter.

Denis. Mount him then; I'l once trye if the ventur of a ladder Can keepe mee from the halter.

[Exeunt.[117]

Explicit Actus 3.

Actus 4.

SCENA PRIMA.

Enter the Clowne.

Clowne. I have left a full coort behynde mee, Mildewe pleidinge of the one syde, my mayster on the other, and the lawyers fendinge and prooveinge on boathe; there's such yeallinge and ballinge, I know not whether it made any deafe to heare it, but I am suer I was almost sicke to see't. Whyle they are brablinge in the cittye I am sent backe to the villadge to cheire up the too younge mermaydes; for synce theire throates have bin rincht with salt water they singe with no lesse sweatenes. But staye; I spy a fisherman drawinge his nett upp to the shore; I'l slacke som of my speede to see how hee hathe spedd since the last tempest.

Enter the Fisherman.

Fisher. I see hee that nought venters nothinge gaynes;
Hee that will bee awake when others sleepe
May sometymes purchase what may give him rest,
When other loyterers shalbe forct to ryse
Or perish through meare want; as, for example,
Although the tempest frighted hence the fishe,
I have drag'd some thinge without finne or skale
May make mee a good markett. Lett mee better
Surveigh my pryze; 'tis of good weight I feele;
Now should it bee some treasure I weare mayde.

Clowne. Which if it proove I'l half marr you or be half made with you.

Fisher. It must be gold by th'weight.

Clowne. If it bee so heavy 'tis ten to one but I'l do you the curtesye to ease you of part of your burden.

Fisher. None save myself is guilty of this pryze; 'Tis all myne owne, and I'l bee thinke mee best Howe to beestowe of this ritche magazin.

Clowne. And I am stooddiinge too with what lyne, what angle, what fisguigge[118] what castinge nett I cann share with you in this sea booty.

Fisher. I will dissemble, as most ritche men doo,
Pleade poverty and speake my mayster fayre;
By out my freedom for som little somme,
And, beeinge myne owne man, by lands and howses;
That doon, to sea I'l rigge shipps of myne owne,
And synce the sea hathe made mee upp a stocke
I'l venter it to sea; who knowes but I
In tyme may prove a noble marchant?

Clowne. Yes of eele skinnes.—Staye you, Syrra, ho!

Fisher. I knowe no fish of that name; limpet, mullet, conger, dolphin, sharke I knowe, and place; I woold som body else had thyne; for hearinge I woold thou hadst none, nor codd; for smelt thou art too hott in my nose allredy; but such a fishe cald Syrra never came within the compasse of my nett. What art thou, a shrimpe, a dogg fish or a poore Jhon?[119]

Clowne.[120] I am one that watcht the tyde to know what thou hast caught, and have mony in my pockett to by thy draught.

Fisher. And I am one thou seest that have only an empty wett nett, but not so much as the tale of a spratte at thys tyme to sell for love of mony.

Clowne. I grant this is no Fryday and I at this tyme no cater for the fishmarkett. I only cam to desyre thy judgement and counsell.

Fisher. Go to the bench for judgment and to the lawe courts for counsell, I am free of neather, only one of Neptunes poore bastards, a spawne of the sea, and nowe gladly desyres to be rydd of thee aland.

Clowne. Onely one question resolve mee, and I have doone.

Fisher. To bee well ridd of the I care not if I loose so much tyme.

Clowne. But feythefully.

Fisher. As I am honest peeterman.[121]

Clowne. Observe mee then:
I saw a theif, comitting fellony;
I know the mayster of the thing was stolne,
I com unto this theif, as't might bee thee,
And make this covenant; eather give mee half
And make mee sharer or thou forfettest all,
I'l peach thee to the owner; in this case
What may I justly claime?

Fisher. Rather than forfeit all I shoold yeild halfe.

Clowne. Knwe then 'tis thy case, and my case a most playne case, and concernes the booty in that cap-case.[122] I knowe the lord that wants it and the mayster that owes[123] it; boath howe it was lost and where it was lost. Com, unloose, unbuckle, unclaspe, uncase, lett's see then what fortune hathe sente us, and so part it equally beetwixt us.

Fisher. Staye, staye, my frend this my case must not be opend till your case bee better lookt into. Thou knowest who lost it, I who fownd it; thou the lord of it that was, I the owner that nowe is; thou who did possess it, I who doth injoye it; hee had it, I have it; hee might have kept it, I will keepe it; I venter'd for all, I will inherit all; and theres thy pittifull case layde open.

Clowne. First proove this to bee thyne.

Fisher. I can and by the fisherman's rethorick.

Clowne. Proceed sea-gull.

Fisher. Thus land-spaniell; no man can say this is my fishe till hee finde it in his nett.

Clowne. Good.

Fisher. What I catche is myne owne, my lands my goodds my copy-hold, my fee-simple, myne to sell, myne to give, myne to lend, and myne to cast away; no man claimes part, no man share, synce fishinge is free and the sea common.

Clowne.[124] If all bee common that the sea yeelds why then is not that as much mine as thyne?

Fisher. By that lawe, when wee bringe our fishe to the markett, if every one may freely chuse what hee lykes and take where hee lyst, wee shoold have quikly empty dorsers[125] and cleane stalls, but light purses.

Clowne. How can'st thou proove that to bee a fishe that was not bredd in the water, that coold never swimme, that hathe neather roe nor milt, scale nor finne, lyfe nor motion? Did ever man heare of a fishe cald a budgett? What shape, what collor?

Fisher. This shape, this collor, there's nowe within better then the spawne of sturgeon; I must confesse indeed, they are rarely seene, and seldom fownd; for this is the fyrst I ever catcht in all the tyme of my fishinge.

Clowne. All this sea-sophestry will not serve your turne, for where my right is deteind mee by fayre meanes I will have it by force.

Fisher. Of what I caught in the sea?

Clowne. Yes, and what I catch hold on ashore. With what consciens can'st thou denye mee part of the gaine, when the owner heareinge it is in thy custody and within my knowledge, must eather find mee a principall in the theft, or at least accessary to the fellony.

Fisher. I'l showe thee a redy waye to prevent boathe.

Clowne. How's that?

Fisher. Marry, thus: go thou quietly thy way, I'l go peacably myne; betraye thou mee to nobody, as I meane to impart to thee nothinge; seeke thy preferment by land as I have doone myne by sea; bee thou mute, I'l be dumbe; thou silent, I mumbudgett; thou dismisse mee, I'l acquitte thee; so thou art neather theife nor accessary.

Clowne. Syrrah, though you bee owner of the boate I'l steare my course at healme.

Fisher. Hands off, I saye. But hark a noyse within Letts cease our controversy till wee see [Noyse. An end of that.

Clowne. Trew, and bee judg'd by the next quiet man wee meete.

Fisher. Content.

Enter after a noyse or tumult, Ashburne, his wyfe, Palestra, Scribonia and Godfrey.

Woman. I'l not beleeve a sillable thou speak'st; False harts and false toonges go together still, They boathe are quick in thee.

Ashb. Have patience woman.

Woman. I have ben too longe a grizell. Not content
To have thy hawnts abroad, where there are marts
And places of lewd brothelry inoughe
Wheare thou maiest wast thy body, purse and creditt,
But thou wooldst make thy private howse a stewes!

Ashb. But heare me, wyfe.

Wom. I'l heare none but myselfe.
Are your legges growne so feeble on the suddeine
They feyle when you shoold travell to your whores,
But you must bringe them home and keepe them heere
Under my nose? I am not so past my sences
But at this age can smell your knavery.

Pal. Good woman, heare's none suche.

Woman. Bold baggadge, peace!
'Tis not your turne to prate yet; lust and impudens
I know still goe togeather.[126] Shewes it well
In one thats of thy yeares and gravity,
That ought to bee in lyfe and government
To others an example, nowe to doate
So neere the grave! to walke before his dooer
With a younge payer of strumpetts at his tale!
Naye, make his honest and chast wyfe no better
Then a madam makarell![127]

Godfr. Why, this stormes woorse then that until'd the howse!

Ashb. But understand mee:
Itt is meare pitty and no bad intent,
No unchast thought but my meare charity
In the remembrans of our longe lost child,
To showe som love to these distressed maydens.

Woman. Sweete charity! nay, usury withall!
For one chyld lost, whose goodnes might have blest
And bin an honor to our family,
To bringe mee home a cuple of loose thinges!
I know not what to terme them, but for thee,
Owld fornicator, that jad'st mee at home
And yet can fend [?] a yonge colt's toothe abroad,
Ould as I am myne eyes are not so dimme
But can discerne this without spectacles.
Hence from my gate, you syrens com from sea,
Or as I lyve I'l washe your painteinges off
And with hotte skaldeinge water instantly.
[Exit.

Godfr. Nay then, sweeteharts, you canott staye, you have had could interteinment.

Pal. The land's to us as dreadfull as the seas, For wee are heare, as by the billows, tost From one feare to another.

Ashb. Pretty sowles,
Despyer not you of comfort; I'l not leive you
To the least danger till som newes returne
From him that undertakes your patronadge.
You, syrrah, usher them into the fryary,
Whence none dares force them. I have a cross wyfe you see,
And better you then I take sanctuary.

Scrib. Wee will be sweyde by you as one in whome Wee yet have fownd all goodnes.

Ashb. Leive them theere To safety, then returne.

[Ex't. ma: Ashb.[128]

Clown. What say'st thou to this gentleman?

Fisher. No man better.—Now it will go on my syde; this is my owne master, sure hee cannot bee so unatrall to give sentens against his owne natural servant.—Syr, good daye.

Ashb. Gramercyes, I in truth much suffered for thee, Knowing howe rashly thou exposd thyself To such a turbulent sea.

Clown. I likewyse, Syr, salute you.

Ashb. Thanks, good frend.

Clown. But, syr, is this your servant.[129]

Ashb. Yes, I acknowledge him; And thou I thinke belongst to Mr Raphael, Imployde about these women.

Clown. Yes I acknowledge it; but you are sure hee's yours?

Ashb. Once againe I doo confesse him myne.

Clown. Then heare mee speake.

Fisher. Heare mee your servant.[130]

Ashb. I'l heare the stranger fyrst.

Clown. In this you doo but justyce, I pray tell mee[131] … Sea, is this a fishe or no, or if a fishe what fishe do you call it (peace you).

Ashb. It is no fishe nor fleshe.

Clowne. Nor good redd herringe—fisherman, y'r gone.

Fisher. Thou art deceav'd I am heare still, and may have heare for ought I knowe to by all the redd herringe in Marcell[es].

Clowne. Did you ever heare of a fishe cal'd a budgett?

Ashb. I protest never synce I knew the sea.

Clowne. You are gone againe fisherman.

Fisher. I am heare still; and now, master, heare mee.

Clowne. Lett mee proceede. This bagge, this knapsacke, or this portmanteau hee woold make a fishe bycause tooke in his nett. Nowe, syr, I com to you with this ould proverbe, all's not fishe that com's to nett.—There you are, gone againe.

Fisher. But—

Clowne. No butt, nor turbutt. I suspect this budgett to be the bawde's, in which are the discoveryes of this yonge woman's coontry and parents. Now, syr, for their sakes, for my masters sake, for all our sakes use the authority of a mayster to searche, and showe the power you have over a servant to comand.

Ashb. Will hee or not, hee shall assent to that.

Clowne. A meere trick to undoo mee, ere I knwe What I am wanting.

Ashb. Call in the damseles, Intreate them fayrely heather; say wee hope We shall have good newes for them.

Fisher. I will part with it only on this condition, that if there bee nothinge in it which concernes them, the rest may returne to mee unrifled and untutcht.

Ashb. Did it conteyne the valew of a myne I clayme no part in it.

Fisher. Nor you?

Clowne. Nor I.

Fisher. By the contents of this budgett.

Clowne. I sweare.

Ashb. I vowe.

Fisher. Then there tak't to you, mayster, and once more Good lucke on my syde!

Enter Godfrey, usheringe in Palestra and Scribonia.

Palest, You sent to speake with us?

Ashb. I did indeed, Saye, knowe you this? y'have leave, surveigh it well.

Pal. This? knowe I this? oh, my Scribonia, see!
Yes, and by this alone may knowe myself.
Looke well upon't, deare syster; extasy
May dimme myne eyes, it cannot purblind thyne.

Scrib. Itt is the same, Palestra.

Fisher. Then sure I shall not bee the same man in the afternoone that I was in the morninge.

Scrib. In this is a greate masse of wealthe included, All that the bawde hath by corruption gott In many a thrifty yeare.

Fisher. Comfort for mee.

Ashb. But tell me is there ought of yours included, Which you may justly chalendge?

Pal. Of that gould
No not the valewe of one poor deneere:[132]
'Tis all base brokadge boathe of sinne and shame
Of which wee neare weare guilty; yet inclosed
There shall you find a cabinet of myne,
Where boathe my naturall parents you may see
In a small roome intended.

Fisher. An unatrall child thou art to trust thy naturall parents into a leatheren bagge and leave them in the bottom of y'e sea.

Pal. Showe mee the caskett: if before you ope it
I do not name you every parcell in't
Lett it no more bee myne, mak't your own pryse;
But such small trifles as I justly chalenge
And cannot yeeld you the least benefitt,
Of them let mee bee mystresse, synce they are
The somme and crowne of all my future hopes,
But from my tender infancy deteined.
As for the gould and Jewells mak't your spoyle;
Of that I clayme no portione.

Fisher. I accept of the condition.

Ashb. Itt is boathe just and honest; we'll have no juggling, And, Gripus, synce the busines concernes you, Have you a curious ey too't.

Fisher. Feare not mee, for boathe at sea and land I was ever a goodd marksman.

Ashb. The caskett is nowe open'd: what coms fyrste?

Pal. Above, the clothes in which I fyrst was swathde, The linnen fyrst worne in myne infancy.

Ashb. These are child's swathinges; whether thyne or no It is to mee uncertaine. To the rest.

Pal. And next to these is a ritche handkercher, Where you shall find in golden letters wrought My place of byrthe, myne and my father's name.

Ashb. Heare's such a handkercher, such letters workt: Speake them, as I shall reade them.

Pal. Mirable.

Ashb. Right! Myrable.

Pal. Daughter of Jhon Ashburne, merchant.

Ashb. Trewe: of Jhon Ashburne merchant—Oh my sowle! —Proceed, prithee proceede.

Pal. And borne in Christ-chyrch, London, Anno—

Ashb. 160(?)0.[133]
Oh you Imortall powers. I stagger yet
Beetwixt despayer and hope, and canott guesse
Which weye my fate will swaye mee; oh speake, speake!
Thy mothers name?

Pal. Reade it in sylver letters pleynly wrought In the next Imbrodered Linnen.

Ashb. If that fayle not I have a firme rock to build upon.— The guift of Isabell to her daughter Mirable.— Oh frend, oh servant!

Clown. How is't, syr?

Fisher. How now, mayster?

Ashb. I that so many yeares have been despoyl'd, Neclected, shattered, am made upp againe, Repaired, and new created.

Pal. Search but further And there's a golden brooch in it, a diamond, Upon my byrthday geven mee by my father.

Ashb. I have longe sought and nowe at lengthe have found That diamond, thee my doughter.

Pal. How, syr?

Ashb. Shee that so late excluded thee my house
And shutt these gates against thee, Isabell
Thy mother, these weare her owne handyworkes
Bestowde upon thee in thyne infancy
To make us nowe boathe happy in thy yoouth.
I am Jhon Ashburne marchant, London, Christ Church;
The yeare, place, tyme agree thee to bee myne,
Oh merher [mirror] of thy sex, my Myrable!

Pal. This surplusadge of joy should not bee forged.

Ashb. No more than these noates are infalleble.

Pal. Thus then in all Humility I kneele To you my acknowledgd father.

Ashb. Ryse, my guerle.

Fisher. Had I not drawne this leeward out of the sea, where had it bin? all drownd by this.

Ashb. No triflinge nowe: post, Godfrey, to my wyfe,
Tell her no more then thou hast heard and seene:
Shee's hard of faythe, relate it punctually,
Beare her (oh lett me borrowe them so longe)
These better to confirme her; bid her hast,
And for the truth add these as testimony:—
Nay, art thou heare still?

Godf. Lyke a shadowe vanisht, But to returne a substance. [Exit Godfrey.[134]

Ashb. Oh my deare doughter!—where's young Raphael's man Beare him of all what thou hast seene a perfect And trew relation.

Clowne. Ay, syr.

Ashb.[135] Bidd him too, All business sett apart, make hether.

Clown. Ay, syr.

Ashb. Tell him that his Palestra is my Mirable.

Clown. Ay, syr.

Ashb. And that shee is my doughter, my lost child.

Clowne. Ay, syr.

Ashb. And that of all this I am most assur'd.

Clown. Ay, syr.

Ashb. Thou wilt not doo all this?

Clown. I will, you lye, syr.

Ashb. Howe, syr.

Cl. Ay, syr.

Ashb. Saye that this daye shee shalbee made his wyfe.

Cl. Ay, syr.

Ashb. Why then add winges unto your heeles and fly, syr.

Cl. Ay syr, but ere I take my flight, for this good servyce You'll mediate with him for my freedom?

Ashb. So.

Cl. And woo your doughter to doo so too?

Ashb. So.

Cl. And, syr, to him I shalbee thankefull.

Ashb. So.

Cl. Your doughters and your servant ever.

Ashb. So.

Cl. To go, roonne, ryde of all your arrants.

Ashb. So.

Cl. In all this you'l bee slack in nothinge?

Ashb. So.

Cl. And you'l heareafter love mee still?

Ashb. So, so.

Cl. Howe, but so, so?

Ashb. Yes, so and so and so.

Cl. Why, then I go, go, goe. [Exit Clown.

Ashb. But one thinge I intreate you, Mirable:
This thyrteene yeares, since by rude creditors
Tost and opprest, nay rent out of myne owne,
I have bin forct to seeke my fate abroad,
Howe weare you ravisht thence, or since that tyme
What strange adventures past?

Enter Godfrey, and the wyfe with the handkercher.

Mirable. My mother's presence Must now prevent my answer.

Wyfe. Where is shee? oh wheare, wheare? for by these tokens, These of her childhood most unfallid signes, I knwe her for my doughter.

Mir. I have bene The longe and wretched owner of that cabinet With all therein contein'd.

Wyfe. Into thy boosom Oh lett mee rayne a shower of joyfull teares To welcom thee, my Mirable.

Godf. You threatned her but nowe with skaldinge water; mee thinks you had more neede to comfort her with hott waters, for sure shee canott bee warme synce shee came so late out of the could bathe.

Wyf. Make fyares, bid them make ready wholesom brothes, Make warme the bedd, and see the sheetes well ayred. Att length then have I fownd thee?

Ashb. But what's shee That's in thy fellow-shippe?

Mir. My fellowe sharer
In all misfortunes; and for many yeares
So deere to mee, I canot tast a blessednes
Of which shee's not partaker.

Wyfe. For thy sake
Shee shall bee myne too, and (in her) I'l thinke
The powers above have for my single losse
Given mee at lengthe a duble recompense.

Scrib. For which hee that protects all inocence Will in good tyme reward you.

Wyfe. Praye, in, in; This could is prejuditiall to your Healthes. I'l count you boathe my twinnes.

[Ext. Wife, Palestra, and Scribonia.

Ashb. Strange alteration! Skoldinge is turn'd to pittye, spleen and mallyce To mercye and compassion.

Fisher. But your promisse Tutchinge my budgett?

Ashb. Godfreye, beare it in And lodge it safe; there's no tyme for that; We'll talke of it herafter.

Godf. Fellow Gripus, I am made for this tyme porter. Ladeys, your trusty treasurer. [Ext. Ashbourne and Godfrey.

Gripus. These are the fishermen and I the fishe catcht in the nett; well my comfort is, thoughe my booty have made me no ritcher then I was, poorer then I am I canott bee. Nowe[136] wherein is the ritche more happy then the poore? I thinke rather lesse blessed and that shall approue by this excellent good ballet, thoughe sett to a scurvy tune.

Lett ech man speake as he's possest
I hold the poore man's state most blest.
For if longe lyfe contentment bredes,
In that the poore the ritche exceedes;

The ritch man's dayes are short, as spent
In pleasures and supposed content;
Whylst to us poore men care and troble
Makes every hower wee wast seeme duble.

He that hathe ech daye to his backe
Chandge of gaye suites, whylst wee alacke
Have but one coate, that coorse and ould,
Yet it defends us from the could;

As warme too in an equll eye
As they in all theere purple dye;
'Mongst all theere store, they weare, we see,
But one at once, and so do wee.

The ritche that at his table feasts
With choyse of dayntyes, sundry guests,
In all his plenty can but fill
One belly; so the poore can still

With cheese and onions and disguest[137]
As well with them as th'others feast.
The pesent with his homespoon lasse
As many merry howers may passe

As coortiers with there sattin guerles,
Though ritchly dect in gould and pearles;
And, though but pleyne, to purpose wooe,
Nay ofttymes with lesse danger too.

And yet for all this I have one crotchett left in my fate to bate a new hooke for the gold in the portmanteau.

[Exit.

Actus 4to.

SCENA 3A.

Enter Dennis with the Fryar from aboue upon his backe.

Den. Whether a knavishe or a sinneful load,
Or one or bothe I know not; massye it is,
And if no frend will for mee,[138] I'l bee sorry
For myne owne heavinesse. And heare's a place,
Though neather of the secretest nor the best,
To unlade myself of this Iniquity.
When I satt late astryde upon the wall,
To lyft the ladder this waye for descent,
Mee thought the fryar lookt lyke S George a horsback
And I his trusty steede. But nowes no triflynge:
Hee's[139] where hee is in Comons, wee discharged,
Boathe of suspect and murther; which lett the covent
To-morrowe morninge answere howe they cann.
I'I backe the waye wee came; what's doon, none sawe
I'th howse nor herde; they answer then the Lawyer.
[Exit.

Enter Fryar Richard.

Fr. R. Of all Infirmityes belonginge to us
I hould those woorst that will not lett a man
Rest in his bedd a-nights. And I of that,
By reason of a late could I have gott,
Am at this instant guilty; which this rushinge
From a warme bedd in these wild frosty nights
Rather augments then helpes; but all necessityes
Must bee obeyde. But soft, there's one before mee:
By this small glimpse of moone light I perceave him
To bee Fryar Jhon, my antient adversary.[140]
Why Jhon? why Jhon? what! not speake! why, then
I see 'tis doon of malyce, and of purpose
Only to shame mee, since hee knowes the rest
Take notyce what a loose man I am growne.
Nay prithee, sweete fryar Jhon, I am in hast,
Horrible hast; doo but release mee nowe,
I am thy frend for ever. What! not heare!
Feigne to bee deaf of purpose, and of slight!
Then heare is that shall rouse you. Are you falne?
[Eather[141] strykes him with a staffe or casts a stone.
What, and still mute and sylent? nay, not styrr?
I'l rowse you with a vengance! not one limbe
To doo his woonted offyce, foot nor hand?
Not a pulse beatinge, no breathe? what no motion?
Oh mee of all men lyvinge most accurst!
I have doon a fearefull murder, which our former
Inveterate hate will be a thousand testats
That I for that insidiated his lyfe.
The deedes apparant and the offens past pardon.
There's nowe no waye but fly: but fly! which way?
The cloyster gates are all bar'd and fast lockt;
These suddeine mischieffes shuld have suddeine shifts.
About it breyne and in good tyme. I hate![142]
Suspitious rumors have bene lately spread
And more then whispered of th'incontinent love
Fryar Jhon boare to the knight's Lady. Had I meanes
Howe to conveighe his body o'er the wall
To any or the least part of the howse,
It might bee thought the knight in jelosy
Had doone this murder in a just revendge.
Let me surveighe th'ascent: happy occation!
To see howe redy still the devill is
To helpe his servants! heare's a ladder left:
Upp, Fryare, my purpose is to admitt you nowe
Of a newe cloyster. I will sett his body
Upright in the knights porche and leave my patron
To answer for the falt, that hath more strength
Then I to tugge with Benches.
[Exit. Carry him up.

Enter the knight, half unredy, his Lady after him.

D'Avern. Ho, Denis!

Lady. Give mee reason, I intreate, Of these unquiet sleepes.

D'Av. You dogg mee, Lady, Lyke an Ill genius.

Lady. You weare woont to call mee Your better angel.

D'Av. So I shall doo still, Would you beetake you to your quiet sleepes And leave mee to my wakinges.

Lady. There beelonges Unto one bedd so sweete a sympathy, I canott rest without you.

D'Av. To your chamber!
There may growe els a woorse antypathy
Beetwixt your love and myne: I tell you, Lady,
Myne is no woman's busines. No reply:
Your least insured presence att this tyme
Will but begett what you would loathe to beare,
Quarrell and harshe unkindnes.

Lady. Ever your lipps Have bene too mee a lawe.—I suspect more Then I would apprehend with willingnes; But though prevention canott helpe what's past, Conjugall faythe may expresse itself at last. [Exit Lady.

D'Av. Why, Denis, ho! awake and ryse in hast!

Denis. What, is your Lordshipp madd!

D'Av. Knowest thou what's past And canst thou skape this danger?

Denis. Did I not tell you That all was safe, the body too disposed Better then in his grave?

D'Av. Strange thoughts sollicite mee.
Upp and inquire about the cloyster wall
What noyse thou hearest, if any private whisperinge
Or louder uprore 'bout the murder ryse.

Denis. I shall, I shall, Syr. [Exit Dennis.

D'Av. Guilt, thoughe it weare a smooth and peacefull face, Yet is within full of seditious thoughts That makes continuall follie. [Exit.

Enter Fryar Richard with Fryar Jhon upon his backe.

Fr. Rich. This is the porch that leades into the hall;
Heare rest for thyne and myne own better ease.
This havinge done, to prevent deathe and shame
By the same stepps I'l back the way I came.

[Fryer sett up and left. Exit.

Enter Denis half unredy.

Denis. This is the penalty belonges to servyce:
Masters still plott to theire owne private ends,
And wee that are theire slaves and ministers
Are cheef still in the troble; they ingrosse
The pleasure and the proffitt, and wee only
The swett and payne. My Lord hath doon a mischeef
And nowe I must not sleepe.—What art thou?
None of the howse sure, I should knwe thy face then:
Beesydes my Lord gives no such lyverye.
Nowe in the name of heaven, what art thou? speake,
Speake if thou beest a man! or if a ghost
Then glyde hence lyke a shadowe! tis the—oh!—
The fryar hathe nimbly skipt back over the wall,
Hath lyke a surly Justyce bensht himself
And sitts heare to accuse uss! where's my Lord?
Helpe, Helpe! his murdered ghost is com from Hell
On earth to cry Vindicta![143]

Enter L. D'Averne.

D'Av. What clamors this?

Denis. Oh Syr—

D'Av. Why, howe is't, Denis?

Denis. Never woorse—the fryar, Syr—

D'Av. What of him?

Denis. The slave that would not leive the place but carried, Is of himself com back.

D'Av. Whether?

Denis. Looke theere.

D'Av. That which I took to bee meare fantasy
I finde nowe to bee real; murder is
A cryinge sinne, and canot be conceal'd.
Yet his returne is straunge.

Denis, 'Tis most prodigious; The very thought of it hath put a cricke Into my necke allredy.

D'Av. One further desperate tryall I will make And putt it too adventer.

Denis. Pray hows that, Syr?

D'Av. There's in my stable an ould stallion, once A lusty horse but now past servyce.

Denis. Godd [sic], syr.

D'Av. Him I'l have sadled and capparisond.
Heare in the hall a rusty Armor hanges,
Pistolls in rotten cases, an ould sword,
And a cast lance to all these sutable.
I'l have them instantly tooke downe.

Den. And then?

D'Av. In these I'l arme the fryar from head to knee;
Mount him into his saddle, with stronge cords
There bind him fast, and to his gauntlet hand
Fasten his lance; for basses[144] tis no matter,
These his grey skyrts will serve. Thus arm'd, thus mounted,
And thus accoutred, with his beiver upp,
Turne him out of the gates, neither attended
With squire or page, lyke a stronge knight adventures
To seeke a desperate fortune.

Denis. Hee may so if hee please Ryde post unto the Devill.

D'Av. This I'l see doone, 'Tis a decree determinde.

Denis. Capp a pe I'l see him arm'd and mounted.

[Exeunt.

Enter Fryar Richard.

Fr. R. This murder canott bee so smothered upp
But I in th'end shall paye for't; but feare still
Is wittye in prevention. Nowe for instance
There's but one refuge left mee, that's to flye:
The gates are shutt upon mee and myself
Am a badd foottman, yet these difficultyes
I can thus helpe; there to this place beelonges
A mare that every second d[a]yes' imployde
To carry corne and fetch meele from the mill,
Distant som half league off; I by this beast
Will fashion myne escape.—What, baker, ho!

Within Baker. What's hee that calls so early?

Fr. R. I, Fryar Richard.

Baker. What would you have that you are stirringe thus An hower before the Dawne.

Fr. Rich. I cannott sleepe
And understandinge there's meale redy ground,
Which thou must fetch this morninge from the mill,
I'l save thee so much pey[n]es. Lend mee the beast,
And lett mee forthe the gate; I'l bringe boathe back
Ere the bell ringe for mattens.

Baker. Marry, Fryar Richard,
With all my hart, and thanke yee. I'l but ryse
And halter her, then lett you forthe the gate;
You'l save mee so much labour.

Fr. Rich. This falls out As I coold wishe, and in a fortunate hower; For better then to too legges trust to fower.

Explicit Actus 4.

Act 5.

SCENE PRIMA.

Enter Thomas Ashburne the younger brother to John, a merchant, with one of the Factors.[145]

Thomas. Are all things safe abord?

Factor. As you can wish, sir;
And notwithstandinge this combustious stryfe
Betwixt the winds and Seas, our ship still tight,
No anchor, cable, tackle, sayle or mast
Lost, though much daunger'd; all our damadge is
That where our puerpose was for Italy
We are driven into Marcellis.

Thomas. That's myne unhappines
That beinge come upon a brother's quest
Longe absent from his country, who of late
After confinement, penury, distresse
Hath gained a hopefull fortune, and I travelling
To beare him tydeinges of a blest estate
Am in my voyage thwarted.

Factor. In what province Resydes hee at this present?

Thomas. His last letters
That I receav'd weare dated from Leagahorne;
Nowe wee by this infortnate storme are driven
Into Marcellis roads.

Factor. For the small tyme Of our abode heare what intend you, Sir?

Thomas. To take in victuall and refresh our men,
Provyde us of thinges needefull, then once more
With all the expeditious hast wee can
Sett sayle for Florens.

Factor. Please you, Sir, I'l steward well that busines.

Thomas. I'th meanetyme
I shall find leisure to surveigh the towne,
The keyes, the temples, forts and monuments;
For what's the end of travell but to better us
In judgment and experiens? What are these?
Withdrawe and give them streete-roome.

Enter Raphael, Treadeway and the Clowne.

Raph. Hath my Palestra fownd her parents then?

Clowne. As sure as I had lost you.

Raph. And free borne?

Clowne. As any in Marcellis.

Raph. Englishe, sayst thou?

Clowne. Or Brittishe, which you please.

Raph. Her trew name Mirable And Ashburne's doughter?

Clowne. Suer as yours is Raphaels And Tread-wayes his.

Thomas. Mirable and Ashburne!

Factor. Names that concerne you, Sir.

Thomas. Peace, listen further.

Raph. Thou with these woords hast extasyde my sowle And I am all in rapture. Then hee's pleasd Wee too shalbee contracted?

Clowne. 'Tis his mynd, Sir.

Raph. The moother, too, consents?

Clowne. So you shall finde, Sir.

Raph. And Mirable pleasd, too?

Clowne. Shes so inclind, Sir.

Raph. And this the very day?

Clowne. The tyme assignd, Sir.

Raph. Shee shalbee suerly myne.

Clowne. As vowes can bind, Sir.

Raph. Thou sawest all this?

Clowne. I am suer I was not blind, Sir.

Raph. And all this shall bee done?

Clown. Before you have din'd, Sir.

Raph. Oh, frend, eather pertake with mee in Joy And beare part of this surplus, I shall else Dye in a pleasinge surfett.

Tread. Frend, I doo
Withall intreate you interceade for mee
To your fayre loves companion, for if all
Th'estate I have in France can by her freedom,
Shee shall no longer faynt beneathe the yoake
Of lewdnes and temptation.

Raph. The extent Of that fyxt love I ever vowde to thee Thou in this act shall find.

Tread. And it shall seale it, Beyond all date or limitt.

Raph. Come, hasten, frend, methinks at lengthe I spy After rough tempests a more open skye.

[Exeunt[146] Raphael and Treadway.

Clowne. And I will after you home, Syr, Since so merrily blowes the wind, Sir.

Thomas. Staye, frend, I am a stranger in these parts And woold in one thinge gladly bee resolved.

Clowne. I am in haste.

Thomas. That little leasure thou bestowest on mee I shalbee gladd to pay for; nay, I will. Drinke that for my sake.

Clowne. Not this, Syr, as it is; for I can make a shifte to dissolve hard mettall into a more liquid substance. A cardeq![147] oh Syr, I can distill this into a quintessence cal'd Argentum potabile.[148]

Thomas. I heard you name one Ashburne; can you bring mee To th'sight of such a man?

Clowne. Easily I can, Syr. But for another peice of the same stampe, I can bringe you to heare him, to feele him, to smell, to tast him, and to feede upon him your whole fyve senses.

Thomas. There's for thee, though I have no hope at all
To finde in France what I in Florens seeke.
And though my brother have no child alyve,
As longe synce lost when I was rob'd of myne,
Yet for the namesake, to my other travells
I'l add this little toyle, though purposeles.
I have about mee letters of Import
Dyrected to a merchant of that name
For whose sake (beeinge one to mee intyred)
I only crave to see the gentleman.

Clowne. Beleeve mee Syr I never love to jest, with those that beforehand deale with me in earnest. Will you follow mee?

Thomas. Prooves hee my brother, and his dowghter found,
Lost by my want of care, (which canott bee
All reasons well considered) and I so happy
To bringe him newes of a recovered state,
Who to his foes so longe hathe been a prey,
I'd count my monthes and years but from this day.

[Exeunt.

SCENE 2.

Enter at one door D'Averne, and Dennis with the Fryar armed. At the other Fryar Richard and the Baker.

D'Averne. So nowe all's fitt, the daylight's not yet broake; Mount him and lock him in the saddle fast, Then turn him forthe the gates.

Dennis. Pray, Syr, your hand to rayse him.

D'Av. Nowe lett him post, whether his fate shall guide him.

[Exeunt.

Ent. Rich. and Baker.

Baker. The mare's ready.

Fr. R. Only the key to ope the cloyster gate, Then all is as it shoold be.

Baker. Tak't, there tis. But make hast, good Fryar Richard; you will else Have no new bredd to dinner.

Fr. R. Feare not, baker; I'l proove her mettall. Thus I back one mare Least I shoold ryde another. [Exit.

Baker. It is the kindest novyce of my consciens That ere woare hood or coole.

[A noyse within. Trampling of Horses.

What noyse is that? now by the Abbot's leave I will looke out and see. [Clere.

Enter Averne and Dennis.

D'Av. Howe nowe? the newes? The cause of that strange uprore?

Den. Strange indeed, But what th'event will bee, I cannott guesse.

D'Av. Howe is it, speake.

Den. I had no sooner, as your Lordshipp badd,
Putt him upon his voyadge, turn'd him out,
But the ould resty stallion snuft and neighd,
And smelt, I thinke, som mare, backt (I perceavd
By the moone light) by a Fryar, in whose pursuite
Our new made horseman with his threatninge lance,
Pistolles, and rotten armor made such noyse
That th'other, frighted, clamours throughe the streetes
Nothinge but deathe and murder.

D'Av. But the sequell?— The clamour still increasethe. [Noyse.

Enter the Baker rooninge.

Baker. Oh never, never, Was seene such open mallyce!

Den. What's the busines?

Baker. Give mee but leave to breath—Oh especially in a cloyster!

Den. Out wee't, man.

Baker. The novyce Richard, to save mee a labour, Borrowed my mare to fetch meale for the mill. I knowe not howe the devill Fryar Jhon knew't, But all in armor watch't him gooinge out And after spurrs to chardge him, beeinge unarmd, 0 suer if hee cannott reatch him with his lance Hee'l speede him with his pistolls.

Denis. All's well yet. [Noyse.

Baker. This noyse hath cal'd much people from there bedds, And troobled the whole villadge.

Fr. R. (within). Hold, hold, I do confesse the murder.

Baker. Suer hee hath slayne him, for murder is confest.

D'Av. Tis better still.

Enter Ashburne, Godfrey, &c.

Godf. Was never knowne the lyke!

Baker. Is Ritchard slayne? I sawe Fryar Jhon, arm'd dreadfully with weapons Not to be worne in peace, pursue his lyfe; All which I'l tell the abbott. [Exit Baker.

Ashb. Most strange it is that the pursude is fownd
To bee the murderer, the pursuer slayne.
Howe was it, Godfrey? thou wast upp beefore mee
And canst discoorse it best.

Godfr. Thus, Syr: at noyse of murder, with the tramplinge
Of horse and ratlinge armor in the streetes,
The villadgers weare wakend from there sleepes;
Som gap't out of there windowes, others venter'd
Out of theere doores; amongst which I was one
That was the foremost, and saw Ritchard stopt
At a turninge lane, then overtooke by Jhon;
Who not him self alone, but even his horse
Backing the tother's beast, seemd with his feete
To pawe him from his saddle; att this assault
Friar Richard cryes, hold, hold and haunt mee not
For I confesse the murder! folke came in
Fownd th'one i'th sadle dead, the t'other sprallinge
Upon the earthe alyve, still cryinge out
That hee had doun the murder.

D'Av. Exellent still; withdrawe, for wee are saffe.

Enter the Abbott, the baker, Fryar Richard, prisoner and guarded, &c.[149]—

Abbott. These mischeefes I foretould; what's mallyce elsse
Than murder halff comitted? though th'event
Bee allmost above apprehension strange,
Yet synce thyne owne confession pleades thee guilty
Thou shalt have leagall tryall.

Fr. Rich. I confess
I was the malefactor and deserve
Th'extremity of Lawe; but woonder much
Howe hee in such a short tyme after death
Should purchase horse and weapons.

Abbot. Murder's a sinne
Which often is myraculously reveal'd.
Lett justyce question that; beare him to prison,
The t'other to his grave.

Baker. Beeinge so valiant after deathe mee thinkes hee deserves the honor to bee buried lyke a knight in his compleate armor.

Abbot. These thinges shoold not bee trifled. Honest frendes,
Retyre you to your homes; these are our chardge.
Wee will acquaint our patron with this sadd
And dyre desaster; fyrst his counsell use,
Next as wee maye our Innocens excuse.

[Exeunt.

SCENA 3, ET ULTIMA.

Enter Mildewe and Sarleboyes.[150]

Mild. May the disease of Naples now turn'd Frensh Take bothe the Judge and Jurors! they have doomd The fayre Palestra from mee.

Sarl. So they had Scribonia too, and mulcted us beesydes, But that in part they did comiserate Our so greate losse by sea.

Mild. This is the curse
Belonges to all us bawdes: gentle and noble,
Even th'ouldest fornicator, will in private
Make happy use of us with hugges and brybes;
But let them take us at the publick bench,
Gainst consciens they will spitt at us and doome us
Unto the post and cart. Oh the coruptnes
Of these dissemblinge letchers!

Sarlab. 'Tis well yet You have reserved one virgin left for sale; Of her make your best proffitt.

Mild.[151] A small stocke To rayse a second fortune; yet com, frend, Wee will go seeke her out.

Enter Gripus the Fisherman.

Fisher. No budgett to bee com by; my ould mayster,
Hee stands on consciens to deliver it
To the trew owner, but I thinke in consciens
To cheate mee and to keepe it to him selfe;
Which hee shall never doo, to prevent which
I'l openly proclayme it.
[Oh yes!
If any userer or base exacter,
Any noble marchant or marchant's factor,
Bee't marchant venterer or marchant Taylor
Bee hee Mr. Pilot, botswyne or saylor—

Enter Godfrey to them.

Godf. Hist, Gripus, hyst!

Fish. Peace, fellowe Godfrey. I'l now play the blabber.—
If eather passinger owner or swabber[152]
That in the sea hathe lost a leather budgett
And to the Dolphins, whales or sharkes, doth grudge itt—

Godf. Wilt thou betraye all? I'I go tell my mayster.

Fish. Yes, Godfrey, goe and tell him all and spare not, I am growne desperate; if thou dost I care not.

Mild. Hee talkt of a leatheren budgett lost at sea; More of that newes would please mee.

Fish. Bee hee a Cristian or beleeve in Mawmett[153] I such a one this night tooke in my drawnett.

Mild. My soone, my child, nay rather, thou young man, I'l take thee for my father, for in this Sure thou hast new begott mee.

Fish. Blessing on thee!
But shoold I have a thousand children more,
I almost durst presume I never should have
Another more hard favored.

Mild. Thou art any thinge. But hast thou such a budgett?

Fisher. Syr, I have And new tooke from the sea. What woldst thou give And have it safe?

Mild. I'l give a hundred crownes.

Fish. Tush, offer me a sowse[154] but not in th'eare; I will barr that afore hand.

Mild. And all safe, I'l give thee then too hondred.

Fish. Offer me a cardeq!

Mild. Three hondred, 4, nay fyve So nothinge bee diminisht.

Fish. I will have A thousand crowns or nothinge.

Mild. That growes deepe.

Fish. Not so deepe as the sea was.

Mild. Make all safe, And I will give a thousand.

Fish. Tis a match, But thou wilt sweare to this.

Mild. Give mee myne othe.

Fish. If, when first I shall beehold
My leatheren bagge that's stuft with gould,
At sight thereof I paye not downe
To Gripus every promist crowne—
Now say after mee.
May Mildewe I in my best age.

Mild. May Mildewe I in my best age.

Fish. Dy in some spittle, stocks or cage.[155]

Mild. Dy in some spittle stocks or cage.

Fish. I'l keepe my promisse, fayle not thou thine oathe. So inn and tell my mayster. [Exit Fisherman.

Mild. Yes, bawdes keepe oaths! t'must bee in leap-yeare then, Not now; what wee sweare weel forsweare agen.

Enter Ashburne, Godfrey, and Gripus, to 'em.

Ashb. And hee in that did well, for Heaven defend I shoold inritche mee with what's none of myne. Where is the man that claymes it?

Grip. Heare's my sworne soon, that but even now acknowledgd mee to bee his father.

Ashb. Knowest thou this?

Mild. Yes for myne owne. I had thought, lyke one forlorne,
All fortune had forsooke mee, but I see
My best dayes are to com. Welcom my lyfe!
Nay if there bee in any bawde a sowle
This nowe hath mett the body.

Ashb. All's theire safe
Unrifled, naye untutcht, save a small caskett
With som few trifles of no valewe in't,
Yet to mee pretious, synce by them I have fownd
My one and only doughter.

Mild. Howes that, pray?

Ashb. Thus; thy Palestra is my Mirable.

Mild. Now may you to your comfort keepe the guerle,
Synce of my wealthe I am once againe possest.
I heare acquitt you of all chardges past
Due for her education.

Ashb. You speake well.

Grip. It seemes you are possest, and this your owne.

Mild. Which I'l knowe howe I part with.

Grip. Com quickly and untrusse.

Mild. Untrusse, Syr? what?

Grip. Nay if you stand on poynts,[156] my crowns, my crowns: Com tell them out, a thousand.

Mild. Thousand deathes I will indure fyrst! synce I neather owe thee Nor will I paye thee any thinge.

Grip. Didst thou not sweare?

Mild. I did, and will againe If it bee to my profit, but oathes made Unto our hurt wee are not bound to keepe.

Ashb. What's that you chalendge, Gripus.

Grip. Not a sowse lesse Then a full thousand crownes.

Ashb. On what condition?

Grip. So much hee vowed and swore to paye mee downe At sight of this his budgett; a deneere I will not bate; downe with my dust, thou perjurer.

Ashb. But did hee sweare?

Mild. Suppose it, saye I did.

Ashb. Then thus I saye, oathes ta'ne advisedly
Ought to bee kept; and this I'l see performed,
What's forfett to my man is due to mee;
I claime it as my right; these your bawdes fallacyes
In this shall no weye helpe you, you shall answer it
Now as a subject and beefore the judge.

Mild. If I appeare in coort I am lost againe;
Better to part with that then hazard all.
These bagges conteine fyve hundred pownds apeece,
Tak't and the pox to boot.

Grip. And all these myne?

Godf. Would I might have a share in't.

Ashb. Nowe tell mee, Mildewe, howe thou ratest the freedome Of th'other virgin yonge Scribonia, Companion with my dowghter?

Mild. I am weary
Of this lewde trade; give mee fyve hundred crownes
And take her; I'l gie't over now in tyme
Ere it bringe mee to the gallowes.

Ashb. There's for her ransom; she's from henceforthe free.

Grip. Howe, Syr?

Ashb. These other, Gripus, still belonge to thee Towards the manumission.

Enter at one doore Palestra, Scribonia; at the other
Raphael, Treadway, Thomas Ashburne and the Clowne.

Raph. If all bee trewe my man related to mee I have no end of Joy.

Ash. This is my Mirable,
My doughter and freeborne; and if you still
Persist the same man you profest your self,
Beehold shee is your wyfe.

Raph. You crowne my hopes.

Mir. This very day hathe made mee full amends For many yeares of crosses.

Tread. Nowe my suite.

Raph. Nor are my expectations yet at heighte Before my frend bee equally made blest In this fayer damsell's love.

Tread. To accomplishe which
If all the wealth that I injoye by land,
Or what at Sea's in ventur, will but purchase
With her release a tye of love to mee,
This hower it shalbe tenderd.

Ashb. Offer'd fayrely;
But knwe, syr, could you winne her to your wishes,
She shall not lyke a bondemaide come to ye;
Fyve hundred crownes are tenderd downe all redy
(Unknowne to her) for her free liberty.

Scrib. This is a Juberly, a yeare of Joy, For chastity and spotles Inocens.

Tread. Shall I intreate you to receive them backe? Lett it bee made my woorke of charity.

Ashb. I knowe you woorthy, but that must not bee;
Yet proove her, court her, with my free consent
And use the best love's rethorick you can:
If with the motion shee rest satisfied,
And you pleas'd to accept her, it shall never
Bee sayde you tooke a captyve to your bedd
But a free woman.

Tread. Nobly have you spoake.

Raph. Fayre Mirable, the fyrst thinge I intreate you In which to expresse your love, speake for my frend.

Mir. And with my best of Oratory.

Raph.[157] Weel be all Assistants in the motion.

Ashb. If you prevayle, I in the absens of som nearer frend Have vowed to stand her father.

Clowne. Now, Sir, I have showed him you, but are you ever the wyser?

Thom. Ash. Peace, I am somwhat trobled. Oh tis hee,
My brother; and those rude and violent gusts
That to this strange Road thrust my shipp per force,
And I but late for new disasters curst,
Have with there light winges mounted mee aloft,
And for a haven in heaven new harbord mee.
Yet they but feede upon theire knowne delights;
Anon I'l make them surfett.

Scrib. If to this frendly fayer society,
I, a poore desolate virgin, so much bownd,
Should putt you off with delatory trifles
When you importune answer, t'would appeare
In mee strange incivility: I am yours
And, beeinge so, therefore consequently his.

Ashb. A match then! but, ere further you proceede,
Resolve mee one thinge, Mildewe,—not as thou art
Thyself, but as thou once weart made a Christian,—
Knowest thou this made's descent, and parentadge?

Mild. I will resolve you lyke a convertite,[158] Not as the man I was: I knew there byrthes, But for myne owne gayne kept them still conceal'd.

Ashb. Now as thou hop'st of grace—

Mild. The nurse late dead
That had these too in chardge, betrayde a shipboord
And ravisht from her coontry, ere she expyr'd
Nam'd her the doughter of Jhon Ashburne, marchant.
Her I Palestra cal'd, shee Mirable;
That, Winefryde, doughter to Thomas Ashburne
Brother to the sayde Jhon, I cal'd Scribonia.
They too are coosin germans.

Ashb. This our neece?

Thom. My doughter?

Pal. Partners in sorrowe, and so neere allyde, And wee till nowe neare knewe it!

Scrib. My deere coosin.

Ashb. Nay, I'l bee my woords mayster; reache your hands, And thoughe no nearer then an Unkle, once I'l playe the father's part.

Thom. Praye hold your hand, Syr; Heares one that will doo't for you.

Ash. Brother Thomas!

Thom. Peruse that letter, whilst I breathe these Joys,
Impartinge these a most unlimitted love
In equall distribution, doughter, neece,
Brother, and frends; lett mee devyde amongst you
A fathers, brothers, and a kinsman's yoake
With all th'unmeasured pleasures and delights
That thought of man can wishe you.

Ashb. Spare reply.
These tell mee, that those bloodhounds who pursude
My fall, my oppressinge creditors I meane,
Are gone before to answer for my wronges,
And in there deathes with due acknowledgment
Of all theire violens doon mee; peace with them!
That lykewyse by the deathe of a ritche alderman,
My unkle, I am left a fayer estate
In land, eight hundred by the yeare, in coyne
Twenty fyve thousand pound. Make mee, oh heaven,
For this greate blessinge gratefull! and not least
To you my Indeer'd brother.

Thom. One thinge woonders mee
That I should fynd you neare Marcellis heare,
When I was aym'd for Florens; where your letters
Inform'd mee you were planted.

Ashb. But even thither
Those crewell men dog'd mee with such pursuit
That theire I fownd no safety, but was forct
To fly thence with that little I had left
And to retyre mee to this obscure place;
Where by the trade of fishinge I have lyv'd
Till nowe of a contented competens.
Those bates, hookes, lynes and netts for thy good servyce,
Gripus, I nowe make thyne.

Grip. You are my noble mayster, and would I could have fownd more tricks then these in my budgett, they had bin all at your servyce.

Ashb. I purpose nowe for England, whether so please These gentlemen consort us with theire brydes.

Boathe. Most willingly.

Ashb. There you shall see what welcome Our London, so much spoake of heare in France, Can give to woorthy strangers.

Thom. Att my chardge Your shippinge is provyded, and at anchor Lyes ready in the roade.

Ashb. Oh happy storme That ends in such a calme!

Enter Godfreye in haste.

Godf. Staye, gentlemen, and see a dolefull sight; One ledd to execution for a murder The lyke hath scarce bin heard of.

Ash. Of the Fryar?
In part we weare ey witness of the fact,
Nor is our hast so great but wee maye staye
To viewe his tragick end, whom the strickt lawe
Hathe made a Just example.

Enter the Abbott, Fryar Richard, Shreeve and officers.

Abb. Upon thy trewe confession I have given thee
Such absolution as the churche allowes.
What hast thou else to saye ere thou art made
To all men heare a wofull spectacle?

Fr. R. This only, that betwixt Fryar Jhon and mee
Was ever hate and mallyce; and althoughe
With no entent of murder, this my hand
This most unfortnate hand, beereft his lyff,
For which vile deede I mercy begge of Heaven,
Next of the woorld, whom I offended too,
Pardon and pitty. More to saye I have not:
Heaven of my sowle take chardge, and of my body
Dispose thou, honest hangeman.

Clown. Lasse, poore Fryar, and yet there's great hope of his sowle, for I canot spye one heyre betwixt him and heaven.

Fisher. And yet I dowbt hee will make but a bald reckninge of it.

Enter the Lord De Averne and his man Dennis.

Av. Staye the execution.

Abb. Our noble fownder out of his greate charity And woonted goodnes begg'd him a reprieve!

Av. Brought a reprieve I have: lett go the Fryar, And take from mee your warrant; I dischardge him.

Sherif. And yet, my Lord, 'tis fitt for our dischardge That the Kinge's hand bee seene.

Av. If not my woord
Will passe for currant, take my person then,
Or if you thinke unequall the exchaunge
I tender my man's too to valewe his.
Meanetyme dismisse him as one Innocent
Of what hee is condemde.

Abb. By his owne mouthe Hee stands accus'd.

Av. And wetnes all of you, As frely I acquitt him.

Sher. Honored Syr, Praye bee more playne, wee understand you not.

Av. I'l make it playne then.

Cl. Now if thou bee'st wyse drawe thy neck out of the collar, doo, Slipp-stringe, doo.

Rich. Marry, with all my hart and thanke him too.

Av. Attend mee, reverend father, and you all
Of this assembly: for som spleene conceiv'd
Against the Fryar deceast, I strangled him;
The cause why no man heare importun mee:
For many reasons to my self best knowne
I hold fitt to conceale it, but I murdered him
In myne owne howse.

Abb. But by your Honor's favour How can that bee when Richard heere confest Hee slewe him in our cloyster?

Av. Heare me outt.
At fyrst, untutcht with horror of the fact,
My purpose was to laye the guilt elswhear
And for that purpose caus'd my man to mount him
Over the cloyster wall.

Denis. Which soone I did
By th'helpe of a short ladder, sett him theire
In a close-place and thoughe not of the sweetest
Yet as I thought the safest; left him there.

Fr. R. Just in that place I found him, and imadgining
He satt of purpose theire to despight mee,
I hitt him with a stone, hee fell withall
And I thought I had slayne him.

Dennis. But howe the Devill Gott hee into our porch? that woonders mee.

Fr. R. I fownd a ladder theire.

Den. The same I left.

Fr. R. Gott him upon my shoolders and by that Conveighd him back and left him in that porch, Wheare, as it seemes, you fownd him.

Av. This troblinge us, it drove us to newe plotts.
We arm'd the Fryar, accoutred as you sawe,
Mounted him on a stallion, lock't him fast
Into the saddle, turn'd him forthe the gates
To trye a second fortune.

Fr. R. Just at the tyme When, I beeinge mounted on the baker's mare, The gates weare sett wyde ope for mee to fly.

Abb. So that it seemes one beast pursuide the tother, And not the dead Fryar Richard.

Av. Howsoever,
As one repentant for my rashnes past,
And loathe to Imbrewe mee in more Innocent blood,
I fyrst confesse my servant's guilt and myne,
Acquitt the Fryar, and yeeld our persons upp
To the full satisfaction of the lawe.

Enter the Lady Averne and her maid Mellesent.

Lady. Which, noble Sir, the Kinge thus mittigates:
See, I have heare your pardon. In the tyme
That you weare ceas'd with this deepe melancholly
And inward sorrowe for a sinne so fowle,
My self in person posted to the Kinge
(In progresse not farr off), to him related
The passadge of your busines, neather rose I
From off my knees till hee had signd to this.

Av. Th'hast doon the offyce of a noble wyfe.
His grace I'l not despyse, nor thy great love
Ever forgett, and iff way may bee fownd
To make least satisfaction to the dead,
I'l doo't in vowed repentance.

Abb. Which our prayers In all our best devotions shall assist.

Ashb. All ours, great Syr, to boote.

Av. Wee knowe you well and thanke you.

Ashb. But must nowe
Forsake this place, which wee shall ever blesse
For the greate good that wee have fownd therein,
And hence remoove for England.

Av. Not beefore
All your successfull Joyes wee heare related
To comfort our late sorrowes; to which purpose
Wee invite you and your frends to feast with us.
That granted, we will see you safe aboord:
And as wee heare rejoyce in your affayers,
Forget not us in England in your prayers.

[Exeunt.

FINIS.