Cos. Now the blessing of some happy guide,
To bring us to the Duke, and we are ready.
Enter Long. and Servant.
Come forward, see the door is open'd,
And two of his Gent. I'll speak to them,
And mark how I behave my self, God save ye;
For less I cannot wish to men of sort, and of your seeming:
Are you of the Dukes?
Long. We are, Sir, and your servants, your salutes,
We give you back again with many thanks.
Cos. When did you hear such words before Wife? peace,
Do you not dare to answer yet; is't fit
So mean a Gentleman as my self should crave,
The presence of the great Duke your Master?
Serv. Sir you may.
Long. Shall we desire your name, and business, Sir?
And we will presently inform him of you.
Cos. My name is Cleremont.
Serv. You are his Graces kinsman,
Or I am much mistaken?
Cos. You are right,
Some of his noble bloud runs through these veins,
Though far unworthy of his graces knowledge.
Long. Sir, we must all be yours; his graces kinsman,
And we so much forgetful? 'twas a rudeness,
And must attend your pardon, thus I crave it:
First to this beauteous Lady, whom I take
To be your Wife, Sir, next your mercy.
Cos. You have it, Sir, I do not like this kissing,
It lies so open to a world of wishes.
Serv. This is the merry fellow; this is he
That must be noble too.
Long. And so he shall.
If all the Art I have can make him noble,
I'll dub him with a Knight-hood; if his wife
Will be but forward, and joyn issue,
I like her above excellent.
Serv. Wil't please you
To walk a turn or two, whilst to the Duke
We make your comming known? [Exit Serv. and Long.
Cos. I shall attend, Sir.
Wife. These Gentlemen are very proper men,
And kiss the best that e'er I tasted.
For goodness-sake husband, let us never more
Come near the Countrey, whatsoe'er betide us;
I am in malice with the memory
Of that same stinking dung-hil.
Cos. Why now you are my chicken and my dear,
Love where I love, hate where I hate: now
You shall have twenty Gowns, and twenty Chains,
See, the door is opening.
Groom. Room afore there, the Duke is entring.
Enter Duke, Wife, Long. Servant, Maria.
Cos. 'Tis the Duke, even he himself, be merry,
This is the golden age the Poet speaks on.
Wife. I pray it be not brazen'd by their faces,
And yet methinks they are the neatest Pieces
For shape, and cutting that e'er I beheld.
Cos. Most gracious Duke, my poor Spouse and my self,
Do kiss your mighty foot, and next to that
The great hand of your Dutchess, ever wishing
Your honors ever springing, and your years.
Duke. Cosin?
Cos. Your Graces vassal, far unworthy
The nearness of your blood.
Duke. Correct me not, I know the word I speak,
And know the person.
Though I be something higher than the place
Where common men have motion, and descending
Down with my eye, their forms are lessened to me;
Yet from this pitch can I behold my own,
From millions of those men that have no mark,
And in my fearful stoop, can make them stand,
When others feel [my feet], and perish: Cosin,
Be comforted, you are very welcome, so
Is your fair Wife: the charge of whom I give
To my own dearest, and best beloved.
Tell me, you have resolv'd your self for Court,
And utterly renounc'd the slavish Countrey,
With all the cares thereof?
Cos. I have, Sir.
Duke. Have you dismist your eating houshold,
Sold your hangings of Nebuchadnezar, for such they were,
As I remember, with the Furnitures
Belonging to your Beds and Chambers?
Cos. I Sir.
Duke. Have you most carefully ta'en off the Lead,
From [you[r] roof, weak with age, and so prevented
The ruin of your house, and clapt him
In a summer suit of thatch to keep him cool?
Cos. All this I have perform'd.
Duke. Then lend me all your hands, I will embrace my Cosin
Who is an understanding Gentleman,
And with a zeal mighty, as is my name,
Once more I bid you welcome to the Court;
My state again.
Duch. As I was telling you, your Husband
Must be no more Commander, look to that,
Be several at meat, and lodging, let him have
Board-wages, and Diet, 'mongst his men i'th' Town
For pleasure, if he be given to't, let him have it,
Else as your own fancy shall direct you.
Cosin, you see this mighty man here: he was an ass
When he came first to Town: indeed he was
Just such another coxcomb as your Husband,
God bless the mark, and every good mans child!
This must not stir you Cosin.
Wif. Heaven forbid!
Long. Sweet Maria; provide the cushion ready for it.
Mar. It shall be done.
Duke. Receive all your advices from our self,
Be once a day with us, and so farewel
For this time, my fair Cosin, Gentlemen
Conduct him to his Lodging.
Duch. Farewel, and think upon my words.
Wife. I shall observe them. [Exit Duke and Duchess.
Cos. Health, and the Kings continual love, attend you.
Serv. Oh for a private place to ease my Lungs!
Heaven give me patience, such a pair of jades
Were never better ridden to this hour,
Pray heaven they hold out to the journeys end.
Long. Twitch him aside good Monsieur, whilst I break
Upon the body of his strength, his wife,
I have a constant promise: she is my own.
Serv. Ply her to wind-ward Monsieur, you have taken
The most compendious way to raise your self,
That could have been delivered by a Counsel.
Cos. I have some certain aims, Sir: but my wife—
Serv. Your wife, you must not let that trouble you.
Cos. It will Sir, to see her in a strangers arms.
Serv. What mean you? let her alone, be wise, stir not a foot
For if you do, all your hopes are buried:
I swear you are a lost man if you stir.
Cos. I thank you Sir, I will be more advis'd.
Serv. But what great Office do you level at?
Cos. Sir, they are kissing.
Serv. Let them kiss,
And much may do their good hearts; they must kiss
And kiss, and double kiss, and kiss again,
Or you may kiss the post for any rising:
Had your noble kinsman ever mounted
To these high Spheres of honor, now he moves in,
But for the kisses of his wife?
Cos. I know not.
Serv. Then I do; credit me, he had been lost,
A fellow of no mark, and no repute.
Had not his wife kist soon, and very sweetly:
She was an excellent woman, and dispatcht him
To his [full being, in] a moment, Sir— [Exit Long. and Wife.
Cos. But yet methinks he [sh]ould] not take her, Sir,
Into a private room.
Serv. Now stand and flourish,
You are a [mad[e] man for ever.
I do envy you if you stand your fortunes up,
You are the happiest man, but your great Cosin,
This day in Court: well, I will marry surely,
And not let every man out-run me thus.
'Tis time to be mine own friend, I live
In town here, and direct the readiest way,
To other men, and be a slave my self.
Cos. Nay, good Sir be not mov'd, I am your servant,
And will not be ungrateful for this knowledge.
Serv. Will you be walking home?
Cos. I would desire to have my wife along.
Serv. You are too raw,
Begone, and take no notice where you left her,
Let her return at [leasure,] if she stay
A month, 'twill be the better, understand me
This Gentleman can do't. [Exit Cosin.
Cos. I will Sir, and wife remember me, a Duke, a Duke wife.
Serv. Aboard her Longaveile, she's thine own,
To me the fooling of this fool is venery. [Exit Servant.
Enter Bewford and Jaques.
Bew. Come, prethee come, have I not crowns? behold
And follow me, here; not a word, go in
Grope by the walls, and you shall find a bed,
Lie down there, see, see, a turn or two, to give
My blood some heats, and I am presently
For action: darkness, by thy leave, I come. [Exit Bew.
Enter Maria.
Ma. I am perfect in my lesson, be my speed,
Thou god of marriage, this is the door, I'll knock.
Bew. within. Whose there, I cannot come yet.
Ma. Monsieur Bewford?
Bew. Stay till I light a candle, who are ye?
Ma. Sir? a poor Gentlewoman.
Enter Bewford.