FRANCIS BEAUMONT

Born 1584
Died 1616

JOHN FLETCHER

Born 1579
Died 1625

[BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER]
A WIFE FOR A MONTH
THE LOVERS PROGRESS
THE PILGRIM
THE CAPTAIN
THE PROPHETESS

THE TEXT EDITED BY
A. R. WALLER, M.A.

Cambridge:
at the University Press
1907

CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSITY PRESS WAREHOUSE,

C. F. CLAY, Manager.

London: FETTER LANE, E.C.

Glasgow: 50, WELLINGTON STREET.

Leipzig: F. A. BROCKHAUS.

New York: G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS.

Bombay and Calcutta: MACMILLAN AND CO., Ltd.

[All Rights reserved.]

[CONTENTS]

A
WIFE FOR A MONTH;

A
TRAGI-COMEDY.

Persons Represented in the Play.

• Alphonso, King of Naples, elder Brother to Frederick.
• Frederick, unnatural and libidinous Brother to Alphonso, and usurper of his Kingdom.
• Sorano, a Lord, Brother to Evanthe, Frederick's wicked instrument.
• Valerio, a noble young Lord, servant to Evanthe.
• Camillo, }
• Cleanthes, }three honest Court Lords.
• Menallo, }
• Rugio, an honest Lord, friend to Alphonso.
• Marco, a Frier, Alphonso's friend.
• Podramo, a necessary creature to Sorano.
• Cupid, } with other Masquers.
• Graces, }
• Tonie, King Frederick's Knavish fool.
• Castruccio, Captain of the Cittadel, an honest man.
• Citizens.
• Lawyer.
• Physician.
• Captain.
• Cut-purse.
• Fool.
• Attendants.

WOMEN.

• Queen, Wife to Frederick, a vertuous Lady.
• Evanthe, Sister to Sorano, the chaste Wife of Valerio, or a Wife for a Month.
• Cassandra, an old Bawd, Waiting-woman to Evanthe.
• Ladies.
• City-Wives.

The Scene Naples.

The principal Actors were,

• Joseph Taylor.
• Richard Robinson.
• Nicholas Toolie.
• Robert Benfield.
• John Underwood.
• George Birch.

[Actus Primus. Scena Prima.]

Enter King Frederick, Sorano, Valerio, Camillo, Cleanthes, Menallo, and Attendants.

Sor. Will your Grace speak?

Fre. Let me alone, Sorano,
Although my thoughts seem sad, they are welcome to me.

Sor. You know I am private as your secret wishes,
Ready to fling my soul upon your service,
E're your command be on't.

Fre. Bid those depart.

Sor. You must retire my Lords.

Cam. What new design is hammering in his head now?

Cle. Let's pray heartily
None of our heads meet with it, my Wife's old,
That's all my comfort.

Men. Mine's ugly, that I am sure on,
And I think honest too, 'twould make me start else.

Cam. Mine's troubled in the Country with a Feaver,
And some few infirmities else; he looks again,
Come let's retire, certain 'tis some she-business,
This new Lord is imployed.

Val. I'le not be far off, because I doubt the cause. [Ex.

Fre. Are they all gone?

Sor. All but your faithful Servant.

Fre. I would tell thee,
But 'tis a thing thou canst not like.

Sor. Pray ye speak it, is it my head? I have it ready for ye, Sir:
Is't any action in my power? my wit?
I care not of what nature, nor what follows.

Fre. I am in love.

Sor. That's the least thing of a thousand,
The easiest to atchieve.

Fre. But with whom, Sorano?

Sor. With whom you please, you must not be deny'd, Sir.

Fred. Say it be with one of thy Kinswomen.

Sor. Say withal,
I shall more love your Grace, I shall more honour ye,
And would I had enough to serve your pleasure.

Fred. Why 'tis thy Sister then, the fair Evanthe,
I'le be plain with thee.

Sor. I'le be as plain with you, Sir,
She brought not her perfections to the world,
To lock them in a case, or hang 'em by her,
The use is all she breeds 'em for, she is yours, Sir.

Fred. Dost thou mean seriously?

Sor. I mean my Sister,
And if I had a dozen more, they were all yours:
Some Aunts I have, they have been handsome Women,
My Mother's dead indeed, and some few Cousins
That are now shooting up, we shall see shortly.

Fred. No, 'tis Evanthe.

Sor. I have sent my man unto her,
Upon some business to come presently
Hither, she shall come; your Grace dare speak unto her?
Large golden promises, and sweet language, Sir,
You know what they work, she is a compleat Courtier,
Besides I'le set in.

Fred. She waits upon my Queen,
What jealousie and anger may arise,
Incensing her?

Sor. You have a good sweet Lady,
A Woman of so even and still a temper,
She knows not anger; say she were a fury,
I had thought you had been absolute, the great King,
The fountain of all honours, plays and pleasures,
Your will and your commands unbounded also;
Go get a pair of Beads and learn to pray, Sir.

Enter Servant.

Ser. My Lord, your servant stayes.

Sor. Bid him come hither, and bring the Lady with him.

Fred. I will woo her,
And either lose my self, or win her favour.

Sor. She is coming in.

Fred. Thy eyes shoot through the door,
They are so piercing, that the beams they dart
Give new light to the room.

Enter Podramo and Evanthe.

Evan. Whither dost thou go?
This is the Kings side, and his private lodgings,
What business have I here?

Pod. My Lord sent for ye.

Evan. His lodgings are below, you are mistaken,
We left them at the stair-foot.

Pod. Good sweet Madam.

Evan. I am no Counsellor, nor important Sutor,
Nor have no private business through these Chambers,
To seek him this way, o' my life thou art drunk,
Or worse than drunk, hir'd to convey me hither
To some base end; now I look on thee better,
Thou hast a bawdy face, and I abhor thee,
A beastly bawdy face, I'le go no further.

Sor. Nay shrink not back, indeed you shall good Sister,
Why do you blush? the good King will not hurt ye,
He honours ye, and loves ye.

Evan. Is this the business?

Sor. Yes, and the best you ever will arrive at if you be wise.

Evan. My Father was no bawd, Sir,
Nor of that worshipful stock as I remember.

Sor. [You] are a Fool.

Evan, You are that I shame to tell ye.

Fred. Gentle Evanthe.

Evan. The gracious Queen, Sir,
Is well and merry, Heaven be thanked for it,
And as I think she waits you in the Garden.

Fre. Let her wait there, I talk not of her Garden,
I talk of thee sweet Flower.

Evan. Your Grace is pleasant,
To mistake a Nettle for a Rose.

Fre. No Rose, nor Lilly, nor no glorious Hyacinth
Are of that sweetness, whiteness, tenderness,
Softness, and satisfying blessedness
As my Evanthe.

Evan. Your Grace speaks very feelingly,
I would not be a handsome wench in your way, Sir,
For a new Gown.

Fred. Thou art all handsomness,
Nature will be asham'd to frame another
Now thou art made, thou hast rob'd her of her cunning:
Each several part about thee is a beauty.

Sor. Do you hear this Sister?

Evan. Yes, unworthy Brother, but all this will not do.

Fred. But love Evanthe.
Thou shalt have more than words, wealth, ease, and honours,
My tender Wench.

Evan. Be tender of my credit,
And I shall love you, Sir, and I shall honour ye.

Fred. I love thee to enjoy thee, my Evantbe,
To give thee the content of love.

Evan. Hold, hold, Sir, ye are too fleet,
I have some business this way, your Grace can ne'r content.

Sor. You stubborn toy.

Evan. Good my Lord Bawd I thank ye.

Fre. Thou shalt not go believe me, sweet Evanthe,
So high I will advance thee for this favour,
So rich and potent I will raise thy fortune,
And thy friends mighty.

Evan. Good your Grace be patient,
I shall make the worst honourable wench that ever was,
Shame your discretion, and your choice.

Fred. Thou shalt not.

Evan. Shall I be rich do you say, and glorious,
And shine above the rest, and scorn all beauties,
And mighty in command?

Fred. Thou shalt be any thing.

Eva. Let me be honest too, and then I'le thank ye.
Have you not such a title to bestow too?
If I prove otherwise, I would know but this, Sir;
Can all the power you have or all the riches,
But tye mens tongues up from discoursing of me,
Their eyes from gazing at my glorious folly,
Time that shall come, from wondering at my impudence,
And they that read my wanton life from curses?
Can you do this? have ye this Magick in ye?
This is not in your power, though you be a Prince, Sir,
No more than evil is in holy Angels,
Nor I, I hope: get wantonness confirm'd
By Act of Parliament an honesty,
And so receiv'd by all, I'le hearken to ye.
Heaven guide your Grace.

Fred. Evanthe, stay a little,
I'le no more wantonness, I'le marry thee.

Evan. What shall the Queen do?

Fred. I'le be divorced from her.

Eva. Can you tell why? what has she done against ye?
Has she contrived a Treason 'gainst your Person?
Abus'd your bed? does disobedience urge ye?

Fred. That's all one, 'tis my will.

Evan. 'Tis a most wicked one,
A most absurd one, and will show a Monster;
I had rather be a Whore, and with less sin,
To your present lust, than Queen to your injustice.
Yours is no love, Faith and Religion fly it,
Nor has no taste of fair affection in it,
Some Hellish flame abuses your fair body,
And Hellish furies blow it; look behind ye,
Divorce ye from a Woman of her beauty,
Of her integrity, her piety?
Her love to you, to all that honours ye,
Her chaste and vertuous love, are these fit causes?
What will you do to me, when I have cloy'd ye?
You may find time out in eternity,
Deceit and violence in heavenly Justice,
Life in the grave, and death among the blessed,
Ere stain or brack in her sweet reputation.

Sor. You have fool'd enough, be wise now, and a woman,
You have shew'd a modesty sufficient,
If not too much for Court.

Evan. You have shew'd an impudence,
A more experienc'd bawd would blush and shake at;
You will make my kindred mighty.

Fred. Prethee hear me.

Evan. I do Sir, and I count it a great offer.

Fred. Any of thine.

Evan. 'Tis like enough you may clap honour on them,
But how 'twill sit, and how men will adore it,
Is still the question. I'le tell you what they'l say, Sir,
What the report will be, and 'twill be true too,
And it must needs be comfort to your Master,
These are the issues of her impudence:
I'le tell your Grace, so dear I hold the Queen,
So dear that honour that she nurs'd me up in,
I would first take to me, for my lust, a Moor,
One of your Gally-slaves, that cold and hunger,
Decrepit misery, had made a mock-man,
Than be your Queen.

Fred. You are bravely resolute.

Evan. I had rather be a Leper, and be shun'd,
And dye by pieces, rot into my grave,
Leaving no memory behind to know me,
Than be a high Whore to eternity.

Fre. You have another Gamester I perceive by ye,
You durst not slight me else.

Sor. I'le find him out,
Though he lye next thy heart hid, I'le discover him,
And ye proud peat, I'le make you curse your insolence.

Val. Tongue of an Angel, and the truth of Heaven,
How am I blest! [Exit Val.

Sor. Podramo go in hast
To my Sisters Gentlewoman, you know her well,
And bid her send her Mistris presently
The lesser Cabinet she keeps her Letters in,
And such like toyes, and bring it to me instantly. Away.

Pod. I am gone. [Exit.

Enter the Queen with two Ladies.

Sor. The Queen.

Fred. Let's quit the place, she may grow jealous.

[Ex. Fred. Sorano.

Queen. So suddenly departed! what's the reason?
Does my approach displease his Grace? are my eyes
So hateful to him? or my conversation
Infected, that he flies me? Fair Evanthe,
Are you there? then I see his shame.

Evan. 'Tis true, Madam,
'Thas pleas'd his goodness to be pleasant with me.

Que. 'Tis strange to find thy modesty in this place,
Does the King offer fair? does thy face take him?
Ne'r blush Evanthe, 'tis a very sweet one,
Does he rain gold, and precious promises
Into thy lap? will he advance thy fortunes?
Shalt thou be mighty, Wench?

Evan. Never mock, Madam;
'Tis rather on your part to be lamented,
At least reveng'd, I can be mighty Lady,
And glorious too, glorious and great, as you are.

Que. He will Marry thee?

Evan. Who would not be a Queen, Madam?

Que. 'Tis true Evanthe, 'tis a brave ambition,
A golden dream, that may delude a good mind,
What shall become of me?

Evan. You must learn to pray,
Your age and honour will become a Nunnery.

Que. Wilt thou remember me? [Weeps.

Evan. She weeps. Sweet Lady
Upon my knees I ask your sacred pardon,
For my rude boldness: and know, my sweet Mistris,
If e're there were ambition in Evanthe,
It was and is to do you faithful duties;
'Tis true I have been tempted by the King,
And with no few and potent charms, to wrong ye,
To violate the chaste joyes of your bed;
And those not taking hold, to usurp your state;
But she that has been bred up under ye,
And daily fed upon your vertuous precepts,
Still growing strong by example of your goodness,
Having no errant motion from obedience,
Flyes from these vanities, as meer illusions;
And arm'd with honesty, defies all promises.
In token of this truth, I lay my life down
Under your sacred foot, to do you service.

Que. Rise my true friend, thou vertuous bud of beauty,
Thou Virgins honour, sweetly blow and flourish,
And that rude nipping wind, that seeks to blast thee,
Or taint thy root, be curst to all posterity;
To my protection from this hour I take ye,
Yes, and the King shall know—

Evan. Give his heat way, Madam,
And 'twill go out again, he may forget all. [Exeunt.

Enter Camillo, Cleanthes, and Menallo.

Cam. What have we to do with the times? we cannot cure 'em.
Let 'em go on, when they are swoln with Surfeits
They'l burst and stink, then all the world shall smell 'em.

Cle. A man may live a bawd, and be an honest man.

Men. Yes, and a wise man too, 'tis a vertuous calling.

Cam. To his own Wife especially, or to his Sister,
The nearer to his own bloud, still the honester;
There want such honest men, would we had more of 'em.

Men. To be a villain is no such rude matter.

Cam. No, if he be a neat one, and a perfect,
Art makes all excellent: what is it, Gentlemen,
In a good cause to kill a dozen Coxcombs,
That blunt rude fellows call good Patriots?
Nothing, nor ne'r look'd after.

Men. 'Tis e'en as much, as easie too, as honest, and as clear,
To ravish Matrons, and, deflower coy Wenches,
But here they are so willing, 'tis a complement.

Cle. To pull down Churches with pretension
To build 'em fairer, may be done with honour,
And all this time believe no gods.

Cam. I think so, 'tis faith enough if they name 'em in their angers,
Or on their rotten Tombs ingrave an Angel;
Well, brave Alphonso, how happy had we been,
If thou had'st raign'd!

Men. Would I had his Disease,
Tyed like a Leprosie to my posterity,
So he were right again.

Cle. What is his Malady?

Cam. Nothing but sad and silent melancholy,
Laden with griefs and thoughts, no man knows why neither;
The good Brandino Father to the Princess
Used all the art and industry that might be,
To free Alphonso from this dull calamity,
And seat him in his rule, he was his eldest
And noblest too, had not fair nature stopt in him,
For which cause this was chosen to inherit,
Frederick the younger.

Cle. Does he use his Brother
With that respect and honour that befits him?

Cam. He is kept privately, as they pretend,
To give more ease and comfort to his sickness;
But he has honest servants, the grave Rugio,
And Fryar Marco, that wait upon his Person.
And in a Monastery he lives.

Men. 'Tis full of sadness,
To see him when he comes to his Fathers Tomb,
As once a day that is his Pilgrimage,
Whilst in Devotion, the Quire sings an Anthem:
How piously he kneels, and like a Virgin
That some cross Fate had cozen'd of her Love,
Weeps till the stubborn Marble sweats with pity,
And to his groans the whole Quire bears a Chorus.

Enter Frederick, Sorano, with the Cabinet, and Podramo.

Cam. So do I too. The King with his Contrivers,
This is no place for us. [Exeunt Lords.

Fred. This is a jewel,
Lay it aside, what paper's that?

Pod. A Letter,
But 'tis a womans, Sir, I know by the hand,
And the false Orthography, they write old Saxon.

Fred. May be her ghostly Mother's that instructs her.

Sor. No, 'tis a Cousins, and came up with a great Cake.

Fred. What's that?

Sor. A pair of Gloves the Dutchess gave her,
For so the outside says.

Fred. That other paper?

Sor. A Charm for the tooth-ach, here's nothing but Saints and Crosses.

Fre. Look in that Box, methinks that should hold secrets.

Pod. 'Tis Paint, and curls of Hair, she begins to exercise.
A glass of Water too, I would fain taste it,
But I am wickedly afraid 'twill silence me,
Never a Conduit-Pipe to convey this water.

Sor. These are all Rings, Deaths-heads, and such Memento's
Her Grandmother, and worm-eaten Aunts left to her,
To tell her what her Beauty must arrive at.

Fred. That, that.

Pod. They are written songs, Sir, to provoke young Ladies;
Lord, here's a Prayer-Book, how these agree!
Here's a strange union.

Sor. Ever by a surfeit you have a julep set to cool the Patient.

Fred. Those, those.

Sor. They are Verses to the blest Evanthe.

Fred. Those may discover,
Read them out, Sorano.

To the blest Evanthe.

Let those complain that feel Loves cruelty.
And in sad legends write their woes,
With Roses gently has corected me,
My War is without rage or blows:
My Mistriss eyes shine fair on my desires,
And hope springs up enflam'd with her new fires.

No more an Exile will I dwell,
With folded arms, and sighs all day,
Reckoning the torments of my Hell,
And flinging my sweet joys away:
I am call'd home again to quiet peace,
My Mistriss smiles, and all my sorrows cease.

Yet what is living in her Eye?
Or being blest with her sweet tongue,
If these no other joys imply?
A golden Give, a pleasing wrong:
To be your own but one poor Month, I'd give
My Youth, my Fortune, and then leave to live.

Fred. This is my Rival, that I knew the hand now.

Sor. I know it, I have seen it, 'tis Valerio's,
That hopeful Gentlemans, that was brought up with ye,
And by your charge, nourish'd and fed
At the same Table, with the same allowance.

Fred. And all this courtesie to ruine me?
Cross my desires? 'had better have fed humblier,
And stood at greater distance from my fury:
Go for him quickly, find him instantly,
Whilst my impatient heart swells high with choler;
Better have lov'd despair, and safer kiss'd her. [Ex. Lords.

Enter Evanthe, and Cassandra.

Evan. Thou old weak fool, dost thou know to what end,
To what betraying end he got this Casket?
Durst thou deliver him without my Ring,
Or a Command from mine own mouth, that Cabinet
That holds my heart? you unconsiderate Ass,
You brainless Ideot.

Cas. I saw you go with him,
At the first word commit your Person to him,
And make no scruple, he is your Brothers Gentleman,
And for any thing I know, an honest man;
And might not I upon the same security deliver him a Box?

Evan. A Bottle-head.

Fred. You shall have cause to chafe, as I will handle it.

Evan. I had rather thou hadst delivered me to Pirats,
Betray'd me to uncurable diseases,
Hung up my Picture in a Market-place,
And sold me to wild Bawds.

Cas. As I take it, Madam,
Your maiden-head lies not in that Cabinet,
You have a Closer, and you keep the Key too,
Why are you vex'd thus?

Evan. I could curse thee wickedly,
And wish thee more deformed than Age can make thee,
Perpetual hunger, and no teeth to satisfie it,
Wait on thee still, nor sleep be found to ease it;
Those hands that gave the Casket, may the Palsie
For ever make unuseful, even to feed thee:
Long winters, that thy Bones may turn to Isicles,
No Hell can thaw again, inhabit by thee.
Is thy Care like thy Body, all one crookedness?
How scurvily thou cryest now! like a Drunkard,
I'll have as pure tears from a dirty spout;
Do, swear thou didst this ignorantly, swear it,
Swear and be damn'd, thou half Witch.

Cas. These are fine words, well Madam, Madam.

Evan. 'Tis not well, thou mummy,
'Tis impudently, basely done, thou durty—

Fred. Has your young sanctity done railing, Madam,
Against your innocent 'Squire? do you see this Sonnet,
This loving Script? do you know from whence it came too?

Evan. I do, and dare avouch it pure, and honest.

Fred. You have private Visitants, my noble Lady,
That in sweet numbers court your goodly Vertues,
And to the height of adoration.

Evan. Well, Sir,
There's neither Heresie nor Treason in it.

Fred. A Prince may beg at the door, whilst these feast with ye;
A favour or a grace, from such as I am,

Enter Valerio, and Podramo.

Course common things. You are welcome; Pray come near Sir,
Do you know this paper?

Val. I am betray'd; I do, Sir,
'Tis mine, my hand and heart, if I dye for her,
I am thy Martyr, Love, and time shall honour me.

Cas. You sawcy Sir, that came in my Ladies name,
For her gilt Cabinet, you cheating Sir too,
You scurvy Usher, with as scurvy legs,
And a worse face, thou poor base hanging holder,
How durst thou come to me with a lye in thy mouth?
An impudent lye?

Pod. Hollow, good Gill, you hobble.

Cas. A stinking lye, more stinking than the teller,
To play the pilfering Knave? there have been Rascals
Brought up to fetch and carry, like your Worship,
That have been hang'd for less, whipt they are daily,
And if the Law will do me right—

Pod. What then old Maggot?

Cas. Thy Mother was carted younger; I'll have thy hide,
Thy mangy hide, embroider'd with a dog-whip,
As it is now with potent Pox, and thicker.

Fred. Peace good Antiquity, I'll have your Bones else
Ground into Gunpowder to shoot at Cats with;
One word more, and I'll blanch thee like an almond,
There's no such cure for the she-falling sickness
As the powder of a dryed Bawds Skin, be silent.
You are very prodigal of your service here, Sir,
Of your life more it seems.

Val. I repent neither,
Because your Grace shall understand it comes
From the best part of Love, my pure affection,
And kindled with chaste flame, I will not flye from it,
If it be errour to desire to marry,
And marry her that sanctity would dote on,
I have done amiss, if it be a Treason
To graft my soul to Vertue, and to grow there,
To love the tree that bears such happiness;
Conceive me, Sir, this fruit was ne'r forbidden;
Nay, to desire to taste too, I am Traytor;
Had you but plants enough of this blest Tree, Sir,
Set round about your Court, to beautifie it,
Deaths twice so many, to dismay the approachers,
The ground would scarce yield Graves to noble Lovers.

Fred. 'Tis well maintain'd, you wish and pray to fortune,
Here in your Sonnet, and she has heard your prayers,
So much you dote upon your own undoing,
But one Month to enjoy her as your Wife,
Though at the expiring of that time you dye for't.

Val. I could wish many, many Ages, Sir,
To grow as old as Time in her embraces,
If Heaven would grant it, and you smile upon it;
But if my choice were two hours, and then perish,
I would not pull my heart back.

Fred. You have your wish,
To morrow I will see you nobly married,
Your Month take out in all content and pleasure;
The first day of the following Month you dye for't;
Kneel not, not all your Prayers can divert me;
Now mark your sentence, mark it, scornful Lady,
If when Valerio's dead, within twelve hours,
For that's your latest time, you find not out
Another Husband on the same condition
To marry you again, you dye your self too.

Evan. Now you are merciful, I thank your Grace.

Fred. If when you are married, you but seek to 'scape
Out of the Kingdom, you, or she, or both,
Or to infect mens minds with hot commotions,
You dye both instantly; will you love me now, Lady?
My tale will now be heard, but now I scorn ye. [Exit.

[Manent Valerio, and Evanthe.

Evan. Is our fair love, our honest, our entire,
Come to this hazard?

Val. 'Tis a noble one, and I am much in love with malice for it,
Envy could not have studied me a way,
Nor fortune pointed out a path to Honour,
Straighter and nobler, if she had her eyes;
When I have once enjoy'd my sweet Evanthe,
And blest my Youth with her most dear embraces,
I have done my journey here, my day is out,
All that the World has else is foolery,
Labour, and loss of time; what should I live for?
Think but mans life a Month, and we are happy.
I would not have my joys grow old for any thing;
A Paradise, as thou art, my Evanthe,
Is only made to wonder at a little,
Enough for human eyes, and then to wander from.
Come, do not weep, sweet, you dishonour me,
Your tears and griefs but question my ability,
Whether I dare dye; Do you love intirely?

Evan. You know I do.

Val. Then grudge not my felicity.

Evan. I'll to the Queen.

Val. Do any thing that's honest,
But if you sue to him, in Death I hate you. [Exeunt.

[Actus Secundus. Scena Prima.]

Enter Camillo, Cleanthes, and Menallo.

Cam. Was there ever heard of such a Marriage?

Men. Marriage and Hanging go by destiny,
'Tis the old Proverb, now they come together.

Cle. But a Month married, then to lose his life for't?
I would have a long Month sure, that pays the Souldiers.

Enter Tony with Urinal.

Cam. Or get all the Almanacks burnt, that were a rare trick,
And have no Month remembred. How now Tony?
Whose water are you casting?

Tony. A sick Gentlemans,
Is very sick, much troubled with the Stone,
He should not live above a Month, by his Urine,
About St. David's Day it will go hard with him,
He will then be troubled with a pain in his Neck too.

Men. A pestilent fool; when wilt thou marry, Tony?

Ton. When I mean to be hang'd, & 'tis the surer contract.

Cle. What think you of this Marriage of Valerio's?

Tony. They have given him a hot Custard, and mean to burn his mouth with it; had I known he had been given to dye honourably, I would have helpt him to a Wench, a rare one, should have kill'd him in three weeks, and sav'd the sentence.

Cam. There be them would have spared ten days of that too.

Tony. It may be so, you have Women of all Vertues:
There be some Guns that I could bring him too,
Some mortar-pieces that are plac'd i'th' Suburbs,
Would tear him into quarters in two hours,
There be also of the race of the old Cockatrices,
That would dispatch him with once looking on him.

Men. What Month wouldst thou chuse, Tony, if thou hadst the like Fortune?

Tony. I would chuse a mull'd sack-month, to comfort my Belly, for sure my Back would ake for't, and at the months end I would be most dismally drunk, & scorn the gallows.

Me. I would chuse March, for I would come in like a Lion.

To. But you'd go out like a Lamb when you went to hanging.

Ca. I would take April, take the sweet o'th' year,
And kiss my Wench upon the tender flowrets,
Tumble on every Green, and as the Birds sung,
Embrace, and melt away my Soul in pleasure.

Tony. You would go a Maying gayly to the Gallows.

Cle. Prithee tell us some news.

Tony. I'll tell ye all I know,
You may be honest, and poor fools, as I am,
And blow your fingers ends.

Cam. That's no news, Fool.

Tony. You may be knaves then when you please, stark knaves,
And build fair houses, but your heirs shall have none of 'em.

Men. These are undoubted.

Tony. Truth is not worth the hearing,
I'll tell you news then; There was a drunken Saylor,
That got a Mermaid with child as she went a milking,
And now she sues him in the Bawdy-Court for it,
The infant-Monster is brought up in Fish-Street.

Cam. I, this is something.

Tony. I'll tell you more, there was a Fish taken,
A monstrous Fish, with a sword by his side, a long sword,
A Pike in's Neck, and a Gun in's Nose, a huge Gun,
And letters of Mart in's mouth, from the Duke of Florence.

Cle. This is a monstrous lye.

Tony. I do confess it:
Do you think I would tell you truths, that dare not hear 'em?
You are honest things, we Courtiers scorn to converse with. [Exit.

Cam. A plaguey fool: but let's consider, Gentlemen,
Why the Queen strives not to oppose this sentence,
The Kingdoms honour suffers in this cruelty.

Men. No doubt the Queen, though she be vertuous,
Winks at the Marriage, for by that only means
The Kings flame lessens to the youthful Lady,
If not goes out; within this Month, I doubt not,
She hopes to rock asleep his anger also;
Shall we go see the preparation?
'Tis time, for strangers come to view the wonder.

Cam. Come, let's away, send my friends happier weddings.

[Exeunt.

Enter Queen and Evanthe.

Queen. You shall be merry, come, I'll have it so,
Can there be any nature so unnoble?
Or anger so inhumane to pursue this?

Evan. I fear there is.

Queen. Your fears are poor and foolish,
Though he be hasty, and his anger death,
His will like torrents, not to be resisted,
Yet Law and Justice go along to guide him;
And what Law, or what Justice can he find
To justifie his Will? what Act or Statute,
By Humane, or Divine establishment,
Left to direct us, that makes Marriage death?
Honest fair Wedlock? 'twas given for encrease,
For preservation of Mankind I take it;
He must be more than man then that dare break it.
Come, dress ye handsomely, you shall have my jewels,
And put a face on that contemns base fortune,
'Twill make him more insult to see you fearful,
Outlook his anger.

Evan. O my Valerio!
Be witness my pure mind, 'tis thee I grieve for.

Queen. But shew it not, I would so crucifie him
With an innocent neglect of what he can do,
A brave strong pious scorn, that I would shake him;
Put all the wanton Cupids in thine eyes,
And all the graces on that nature gave thee,
Make up thy beauty to that height of excellence,
I'll help thee, and forgive thee, as if Venus
Were now again to catch the god of War,
In his most rugged anger, when thou hast him,
(As 'tis impossible he should resist thee)
And kneeling at thy conquering feet for mercy,
Then shew thy Vertue, then again despise him,
And all his power, then with a look of honour
Mingled with noble chastity, strike him dead.

Evan. Good Madam dress me,
You arm me bravely.

Queen. Make him know his cruelty
Begins with him first, he must suffer for it,
And that thy sentence is so welcome to thee,
And to thy noble Lord, you long to meet it.
Stamp such a deep impression of thy Beauty
Into his soul, and of thy worthiness,
That when Valerio and Evanthe sleep
In one rich earth, hung round about with blessings,
He may run mad, and curse his act; be lusty,
I'll teach thee how to dye too, if thou fear'st it.

Ev. I thank your Grace, you have prepar'd me strongly,
And my weak mind.

Queen. Death is unwelcome never,
Unless it be to tortur'd minds and sick souls,
That make their own Hells; 'tis such a benefit
When it comes crown'd with honour, shews so sweet too!
Though they paint it ugly, that's but to restrain us,
For every living thing would love it else,
Fly boldly to their peace ere Nature call'd 'em;
The Rest we have from labour, and from trouble
Is some Incitement, every thing alike,
The poor Slave that lies private has his liberty,
As amply as his Master, in that Tomb
The Earth as light upon him, and the flowers
That grow about him, smell as sweet, and flourish.
But when we love with honour to our ends,
When Memory and Vertue are our Mourners;
What pleasure's there! they are infinite, Evanthe;
Only, my vertuous Wench, we want our senses,
That benefit we are barr'd, 'twould make us proud else,
And lazy to look up to happier life,
The Blessings of the people would so swell us.

Evan. Good Madam, dress me, you have drest my soul,
The merriest Bride I'll be for all this misery,
The proudest to some Eyes too.

Queen. 'Twill do better, come, shrink no more.

Evan. I am too confident. [Exeunt.

Enter Frederick, and Sorano.

Sor. You are too remiss and wanton in your angers,
You mold things handsomely; and then neglect 'em;
A powerful Prince should be constant to his power still,
And hold up what he builds, then People fear him:
When he lets loose his hand it shews a weakness,
And men examine or contemn his greatness:
A scorn of this high kind should have call'd up
A revenge equal, not a pity in you.

Fred. She is thy Sister.

Sor. And she were my Mother,
Whilst I conceive 'tis you she has wrong'd, I hate her,
And shake her nearness off; I study, Sir,
To satisfie your angers that are just,
Before your pleasures.

Fred. I have done that already,
I fear has pull'd too many curses on me.

Sor. Curses or envies, on Valerio's head,
Would you take my counsel, Sir, they should all light,
And with the weight not only crack his scull,
But his fair credit; the exquisite vexation
I have devis'd, so please you give way in't,
And let it work, shall more afflict his soul,
And trench upon that honour that he brags of,
Than fear of Death in all the frights he carries;
If you sit down here they will both abuse ye,
Laugh at your poor relenting power, and scorn ye.
What satisfaction can their deaths bring to you,
That are prepar'd, and proud to dye, and willingly,
And at their ends will thank you for that honour?
How are you nearer the desire you aim at?
Or if it be revenge your anger covets,
How can their single deaths give you content, Sir?
Petty revenges end in blood, sleight angers,
A Princes rage should find out new diseases,
Death were a pleasure too, to pay proud fools with.

Fred. What should I do?

Sor. Add but your power unto me,
Make me but strong by your protection,
And you shall see what joy, and what delight,
What infinite pleasure this poor Month shall yield him.
I'll make him wish he were dead on his Marriage-day,
Or bed-rid with old age, I'll make him curse,
And cry and curse, give me but power.

Fred. You have it,
Here, take my Ring, I am content he pay for't.

Sor. It shall be now revenge, as I will handle it,
He shall live after this to beg his life too,
Twenty to one by this thread, as I'll weave it,
Evanthe shall be yours.

Fred. Take all authority, and be most happy.

Sor. Good Sir, no more pity. [Exeunt.

Enter Tony, three Citizens, and three Wives.

1 Wife. Good Master Tony, put me in.

Tony. Where do you dwell?

1 Wife. Forsooth, at the sign of the great Shoulder of Mutton.

Ton. A hungry man would hunt your house out instantly,
Keep the Dogs from your door; Is this Lettice Ruff your
Husband? a fine sharp sallet to your sign.

2 Wife. Will you put me in too?

3 Wife. And me, good Master Tony.

Tony. Put ye all in? you had best come twenty more; you
Think 'tis easie, a trick of legerdemain, to put ye all in,
'Twould pose a fellow that had twice my body,
Though it were all made into chines and fillets.

2 Wi. Put's into th' wedding, Sir, we would fain see that.

1 Wife. And the brave Masque too.

To. You two are pretty women, are you their husbands?

2 Citiz. Yes, for want of better.

Tony. I think so too, you would not be so mad else
To turn 'em loose to a company of young Courtiers,
That swarm like Bees in May, when they see young wenches;
You must not squeak.

3 Wife. No Sir, we are better tutor'd.

Tony. Nor if a young Lord offer you the courtesie—

2 Wife. We know what 'tis, Sir.

Tony. Nor you must not grumble,
If you be thrust up hard, we thrust most furiously.

1 Wife. We know the worst.

Tony. Get you two in then quietly,
And shift for your selves; we must have no old women,
They are out of use, unless they have petitions,
Besides they cough so loud they drown the Musick.
You would go in too, but there is no place for ye?
I am sorry for't, go and forget your wives,
Or pray they may be able to suffer patiently.
You may have Heirs may prove wise Aldermen,
Go, or I'le call the Guard.

3 Citi. We will get in, we'l venture broken pates else.

[Ex. Citiz. and Women.

Tony. 'Tis impossible,
You are too securely arm'd; how they flock hither,
And with what joy the women run by heaps
To see this Marriage! they tickle to think of it,
They hope for every month a husband too;
Still how they run, and how the wittals follow 'em,
The weak things that are worn between the leggs,
That brushing, dressing, nor new naps can mend,
How they post to see their own confusion!
This is a merry world.

Enter Frederick.

Fred. Look to the door Sirrah,
Thou art a fool, and may'st do mischief lawfully.

Tony. Give me your hand, you are my Brother fool,
You may both make the Law, and marr it presently.
Do you love a wench?

Fred. Who does not, fool?

Tony. Not I, unless you will give me a longer lease to marry her.

Fred. What are all these that come, what business have they?

Tony. Some come to gape, those are my fellow fools;
Some to get home their wives, those be their own fools;
Some to rejoyce with thee, those be the times fools;
And some I fear to curse thee, those are poor fools,

Enter Cassand[ra], an old Lady passing over.

A set people call them honest. Look, look King, look,
A weather-beaten Lady new caresn'd.

Fred. An old one.

Tony. The glasses of her eyes are new rub'd over,
And the worm-eaten records in her face are daub'd up neatly?
She layes her breasts out too, like to poch'd eggs
That had the yelks suckt out; they get new heads also,
New teeth, new tongues, for the old are all worn out,
And as 'tis hop'd, new tayls.

Fred. For what?

Tony. For old Courtiers,
The young ones are too stirring for their travels.

Fred. Go leave your knavery, and help to keep the door well,
I will have no such press.

Tony. Lay thy hand o'thy heart King.

Fred. I'le have ye whipt.

Tony. The fool and thou art parted. [Exit.

Fred. Sorano work, and free me from this spell,
'Twixt love and scorn there's nothing felt but hell. [Exit.

Enter Valerio, Camillo, Cleanthes, Menallo, and Servants.

Val. Tye on my Scarf, you are so long about me,
Good my Lords help, give me my other Cloak,
That Hat and Feather, Lord what a Taylor's this,
To make me up thus straight! one sigh would burst me,
I have not room to breath, come button, button,
Button, apace.

Cam. I am glad to see you merry Sir.

Val. 'Twould make you merry had you such a wife,
And such an age to injoy her in.

Men. An age Sir?

Val. A moneth's an age to him that is contented,
What should I seek for more? give me my sword.
Ha my good Lords, that every one of you now
Had but a Lady of that youth and beauty
To bless your selves this night with, would ye not?
Pray ye speak uprightly.

Cle. We confess ye happy,
And we could well wish such another Banquet,
But on that price my Lord—

Val. 'Twere nothing else,
No man can ever come to aim at Heaven,
But by the knowledge of a Hell. These shooes are heavy,
And if I should be call'd to dance they'l clog me,
Get me some pumps; I'le tell ye brave Camillo,
And you dear friends, the King has honour'd me,
Out of his gracious favour has much honour'd me,
To limit me my time, for who would live long?
Who would be old? 'tis such a weariness,
Such a disease, that hangs like lead upon us.
As it increases, so vexations,
Griefs of the minde, pains of the feeble body,
Rheums, coughs, catarrhs, we are but our living coffins;
Besides, the fair soul's old too, it grows covetous,
Which shews all honour is departed from us,
And we are Earth again.

Cle. You make fair use Sir.

Val. I would not live to learn to lye Cleanthes
For all the world, old men are prone to that too;
Thou that hast been a Souldier, Menallo,
A noble Souldier, and defied all danger,
Adopted thy brave arm the heir to victory,
Would'st thou live so long till thy strength forsook thee?
Till thou grew'st only a long tedious story
Of what thou hadst been? till thy sword hang by,
And lazie Spiders fill'd the hilt with cobwebs?

Men. No sure, I would not.

Val. 'Tis not fit ye should,
To dye a young man is to be an Angel,
Our great good parts put wings unto our souls:
We'l have a rouse before we go to bed friends,
Pray ye tell me, is't a hansome Mask we have?

Cam. We understand so.

Val. And the young gent. dance?

Cle. They do Sir, and some dance well.

Val. They must before the Ladies,
We'l have a rouse before we go to bed friends,
A lusty one, 'twill make my blood dance too. [Musick.

Cam. Ten if you please.

Val. And we'l be wondrous merry,
They stay sure, come, I hear the Musick forward,
You shall have all Gloves presently. [Exit.

Men. We attend Sir, but first we must look to th'
Doors. [Knocking within.
The King has charged us. [Exeunt.

Enter two Servants.

1 Ser. What a noise do you keep there? call my fellows
O' the Guard; you must cease now untill the King be
Enter'd, he is gone to th' Temple now.

2 Serv. Look to that back door, and keep it fast,
They swarm like Bees about it.

Enter Camillo, Cleanthes, Menallo, Tony following.

Cam. Keep back those Citizens, and let their wives in,
Their handsome wives.

Tony. They have crowded me to Verjuyce,
I sweat like a Butter-box.

1 Serv. Stand further off there.

Men. Take the women aside, and talk with 'em in private,
Give 'em that they came for.

Tony. The whole Court cannot do it;
Besides, the next Mask if we use 'em so,
They'l come by millions to expect our largess;
We have broke a hundred heads.

Cle. Are they so tender?

Ton. But 'twas behind, before they have all murrions.

Cam. Let in those Ladies, make 'em room for shame there.

Ton. They are no Ladies, there's one bald before 'em,
A gent. bald, they are curtail'd queans in hired clothes,
They come out of Spain I think, they are very sultry.

Men. Keep 'em in breath for an Embassadour.

[Knocks within.

Me thinks my nose shakes at their memories,
What bounsing's that?

Within. I am one of the Musick Sir.

Within. I have sweat-meats for the banquet.

Cam. Let 'em in.

Ton. They lye my Lord, they come to seek their wives,
Two broken Citizens.

Cam. Break 'em more, they are but brusled yet.
Bold Rascals, offer to disturb your wives?

Cle. Lock the doors fast, the Musick, hark, the King comes.

A Curtain drawn.

The King, Queen, Valerio, Evanthe, Ladies, Attendants, Camillo, Cleanthes, Sorano, Menallo.

A Mask.

Cupid descends, the Graces sitting by him, Cupid being bound the Graces unbind him, he speaks.

Cup. Unbind me, my delight, this night is mine,
Now let me look upon what Stars here shine,
Let me behold the beauties, then clap high
My cullor'd wings, proud of my Deity;
I am satisfied, bind me again, and fast,
My angry Bow will make too great a wast
Of beauty else, now call my Maskers in,
Call with a Song, and let the sports begin;
Call all my servants the effects of love,
And to a measure let them nobly move.
Come you servants of proud love,
Come away:
Fairly, nobly, gently move.
Too long, too long you make us stay;
Fancy, Desire, Delight, Hope, Fear,
Distrust and Jealousie, be you too here;
Consuming Care, and raging Ire,
And Poverty in poor attire,
March fairly in, and last Despair;
Now full Musick strike the Air.

Enter the Maskers, Fancy, Desire, Delight, Hope, Fear, Distrust, Jealousie, Care, Ire, Despair, they dance, after which Cupid speaks.

Cup. Away, I have done, the day begins to light,
Lovers, you know your fate, good night, good night.

Cupid and the Graces ascend in the Chariot.

King. Come to the Banquet, when that's ended Sir,
I'le see you i' bed, and so good night; be merry,
You have a sweet bed-fellow.

Val. I thank your Grace,
And ever shall be bound unto your nobleness.

King. I pray I may deserve your thanks, set forward.

[Exeunt.

[Actus Tertius. Scena Prima.]

Enter divers Monks, Alphonso going to the Tomb, Rugio, and Frier Marco, discover the Tomb and a Chair.

Mar. The night grows on, lead softly to the Tomb,
And sing not till I bid ye; let the Musick
Play gently as he passes.

Rug. O fair picture,
That wert the living hope of all our honours;
How are we banisht from the joy we dreamt of!
Will he ne're speak more?

Mar. 'Tis full three moneths Lord Rugio,
Since any articulate sound came from his tongue,
Set him down gently. [Sits in a Chair.

Rug. What should the reason be Sir?

Mar. As 'tis in nature with those loving Husbands,
That sympathize their wives pains, and their throes
When they are breeding, and 'tis usuall too,
We have it by experience; so in him Sir,
In this most noble spirit that now suffers;
For when his honour'd Father good Brandino
Fell sick, he felt the griefs, and labour'd with them,
His fits and his disease he still inherited,
Grew the same thing, and had not nature check'd him,
Strength, and ability, he had dyed that hour too.

Rug. Embleme of noble love!

Mar. That very minute
His Fathers breath forsook him, that same instant,
A rare example of his piety,
And love paternal, the Organ of his tongue
Was never heard to sound again; so near death
He seeks to wait upon his worthy Father,
But that we force his meat, he were one body.

Rug. He points to'th' Tomb.

Mar. That is the place he honours,
A house I fear he will not be long out of.
He will to th' Tomb, good my Lord lend your hand;
Now sing the Funeral Song, and let him kneel,
For then he is pleas'd. [A Song.

Rug. Heaven lend thy powerfull hand,
And ease this Prince.

Mar. He will pass back again. [Exeunt.

Enter Valerio.

Val. They drink abundantly, I am hot with wine too,
Lustily warm, I'le steal now to my happiness,
'Tis midnight, and the silent hour invites me,
But she is up still, and attends the Queen;
Thou dew of wine and sleep hang on their eye-lids,
Steep their dull senses in the healths they drink,
That I may quickly find my lov'd Evanthe.
The King is merry too, and drank unto me,
Sign of fair peace, O this nights blessedness!
If I had forty heads I would give all for 't.
Is not the end of our ambitions,
Of all our humane studies, and our travels,
Of our desires, the obtaining of our wishes?
Certain it is, and there man makes his Center.
I have obtain'd Evanthe, I have married her,
Can any fortune keep me from injoying her?

Enter Sorano.

I have my wish, what's left me to accuse now?
I am friends with all the world, but thy base malice;
Go glory in thy mischiefs thou proud man,
And cry it to the world thou hast ruin'd vertue;
How I contemn thee and thy petty malice!
And with what scorn, I look down on thy practice!

Sor. You'l sing me a new Song anon Valerio,
And wish these hot words—

Val. I despise thee fellow,
Thy threats, or flatteries, all I fling behind me;
I have my end, I have thy noble Sister,
A name too worthy of thy blood; I have married her,
And will injoy her too.

Sor. 'Tis very likely.

Val. And that short moneth I have to bless me with her
I'le make an age, I'le reckon each embrace
A year of pleasure, and each night a Jubile,
Every quick kiss a Spring; and when I mean
To lose my self in all delightfulness,
Twenty sweet Summers I will tye together
In spight of thee, and thy malignant Master:
I will dye old in love, though young in pleasure.

Sor. But that I [h]ate thee deadly, I could pity thee,
Thou art the poorest miserable thing
This day on earth; I'le tell thee why Valerio,
All thou esteemest, and build'st upon for happiness,
For joy, for pleasure, for delight is past thee,
And like a wanton dream already vanisht.

Val. Is my love false?

Sor. No, she is constant to thee,
Constant to all thy misery she shall be,
And curse thee too.

Val. Is my strong body weakn'd,
Charm'd, or abus'd with subtle drink? speak villain.

Sor. Neither, I dare speak, thou art still as lusty
As when thou lov'dst her first, as strong and hopefull,
The month thou hast given thee is a month of misery,
And where thou think'st each hour shall yield a pleasure,
Look for a killing pain, for thou shalt find it
Before thou dyest, each minute shall prepare it,
And ring so many knels to sad afflictions;
The King has given thee a long month to dye in,
And miserably dye.

Val. Undo thy Riddle,
I am prepar'd what ever fate shall follow.

Sor. Dost thou see this Ring?

Val. I know it too.

Sor. Then mark me,
By vertue of this Ring this I pronounce to thee,
'Tis the Kings will.

Val. Let me know it suddenly.

Sor. If thou dost offer to touch Evanthes body
Beyond a kiss, though thou art married to her,
And lawfully as thou think'st may'st injoy her,
That minute she shall dye.

Val. O Devil—

Sor. If thou discover this command unto her,
Or to a friend that shall importune thee,
And why thou abstainest, and from whose will, ye all perish,
Upon the self-same forfeit: are ye fitted Sir?
Now if ye love her, ye may preserve her life still,
If not, you know the worst, how falls your month out?

Val. This tyranny could never be invented
But in the school of Hell, Earth is too innocent;
Not to injoy her when she is my wife?
When she is willing too?

Sor. She is most willing,
And will run mad to miss; but if you hit her,
Be sure you hit her home, and kill her with it;
There are such women that will dye with pleasure:
The Axe will follow else, that will not fail
To fetch her Maiden head, and dispatch her quickly;
Then shall the world know you are the cause of Murther,
And as 'tis requisite your life shall pay for't.

Val. Thou dost but jest, thou canst not be so monstrous
As thou proclaim'st thy self; thou art her Brother,
And there must be a feeling heart within thee
Of her afflictions; wert thou a stranger to us,
And bred amongst wild rocks, thy nature wild too,
Affection in thee as thy breeding, cold,
And unrelenting as the rocks that nourisht thee,
Yet thou must shake to tell me this; they tremble
When the rude sea threatens divorce amongst 'em,
They that are senceless things shake at a tempest;
Thou art a man—

Sor. Be thou too then, 'twill try thee,
And patience now will best become thy nobleness.

Val. Invent some other torment to afflict me,
All, if thou please, put all afflictions on me,
Study thy brains out for 'em, so this be none
I care not of what nature, nor what cruelty,
Nor of what length.

Sor. This is enough to vex ye.

Val. The tale of Tantalus is now prov'd true,
And from me shall be registred Authentick;
To have my joyes within my arms, and lawfull,
Mine own delights, yet dare not touch.
Even as thou hatest me Brother, let no young man know this,
As thou shalt hope for peace when thou most needest it,
Peace in thy soul, desire the King to kill me,
Make me a traitor, any thing, I'le yield to it,
And give thee cause so I may dye immediately;
Lock me in Prison where no Sun may see me,
In walls so thick no hope may e're come at me;
Keep me from meat, and drink, and sleep, I'le bless thee;
Give me some damned potion to deliver me,
That I may never know my self again, forget
My Country, kindred, name and fortune; last,
That my chaste love may never appear before me,
This were some comfort.

Sor. All I have I have brought ye,
And much good may it do ye my dear Brother,
See ye observe it well; you will find about ye
Many eyes set, that shall o're-look your actions,
If you transgress ye know, and so I leave ye. [Exit.

Val. Heaven be not angry, and I have some hope yet. [Exit.

Enter Frederick, and Sorano.

Fred. Hast thou been with him?

Sor. Yes, and given him that Sir
Will make him curse his Birth; I told ye which way.
Did you but see him Sir, but look upon him,
With what a troubled and dejected nature
He walks now in a mist, with what a silence,
As if he were the shrowd he wrapt himself in,
And no more of Valerio but his shadow,
He seeks obscurity to hide his thoughts in,
You would wonder and admire for all you know it,
His jollity is down, valed to the ground Sir,
And his high hopes of full delights and pleasures
Are turn'd tormenters to him, strong diseases.

Fred. But is there hope of her?

Sor. It must fall necessary,
She must dislike him, quarrel with his person,
For women once deluded are next Devils,
And in the height of that opinion Sir,
You shall put on again, and she must meet ye.

Fred. I am glad of this.

Sor. I'le tell ye all the circumstance
Within this hour, but sure I heard your grace
To day as I attended, make some stops,
Some broken speech[e]s, and some sighs between,
And then your Brothers name I heard distinctly,
And some sad wishes after.

Fred. Ye are i'th' right Sir,
I would he were as sad as I could wish him,
Sad as the Earth.

Sor. Would ye have it so?

Fred. Thou hearest me,
Though he be sick with small hope of recovery,
That hope still lives, and mens eyes live upon it,
And in their eye their wishes; my Sorano,
Were he but cold once in the tomb he dotes on,
As 'tis the fittest place for melancholy,
My Court should be another Paradise,
And flow with all delights.

Sor. Go to your pleasures, let me alone with this,
Hope shall not trouble ye, nor he three dayes.

Fred. I shall be bound unto thee.

Enter Valerio, Camillo, Cleanthes, Menallo.

Sor. I'le do it neatly too, no doubt shall catch me.

Fred. Be gone, they are going to bed, I'le bid good night to 'em.

Sor. And mark the man, you'l scarce know 'tis Valerio. [Exit.

Cam. Chear up my noble Lord, the minute's come,
You shall injoy the abstract of all sweetness,
We did you wrong, you need no wine to warm ye,
Desire shoots through your eyes like sudden wild-fires.

Val. Beshrew me Lords, the wine has made me dull,
I am I know not what.

Fred. Good pleasure to ye,
Good night and long too, as you find your appetite
You may fall to.

Val. I do beseech your grace,
For which of all my loves and services
Have I deserved this?

Fred. I am not bound to answer ye.

Val. Nor I bound to obey in unjust actions.

Fred. Do as you please, you know the penalty,
And as I have a soul it shall be executed;
Nay look not pale, I am not used to fear Sir,
If you respect your Lady, good night to ye. [Exit.

Val. But for respect to her and to my duty,
That reverent duty that I owe my Sovera[ig]n,
Which anger has no power to snatch me from,
The good night should be thine; good night for ever.
The King is wanton Lords, he would needs know of me
How many nick chases I would make to night.

Men. My Lord, no doubt you'l prove a perfect gamester.

Val. Faith no, I am unacquainted with the pleasure,
Bungle a set I may: how my heart trembles,
And beats my breast as it would break his way out!
Good night my noble friends.

Cle. Nay we must see you toward your bed my Lord.

Val. Good faith it needs not,
'Tis late, and I shall trouble you.

Cam. No, no, till the Bride come Sir.

Val. I beseech you leave me,
You will make me bashfull else, I am so foolish,
Besides, I have some few devotions Lords,
And he that can pray with such a book in's arms—

Ca[m]. We'l leave ye then, and a sweet night wait upon ye.

Men. And a sweet issue of this sweet night crown ye.

Cle. All nights and days be such till you grow old Sir.

[Exeunt Lords.

Val. I thank ye, 'tis a curse sufficient for me,
A labour'd one too, though you mean a blessing.
What shall I do? I am like a wretched Debtor,
That has a summe to tender on the forfeit
Of all he is worth, yet dare not offer it.
Other men see the Sun, yet I must wink at it;
And though I know 'tis perfect day, deny it:
My veins are all on fire, and burn like Ætna,
Youth and desire beat larums to my blood,
And adde fresh fuel to my warm affections.
I must injoy her, yet when I consider,
When I collect my self, and weigh her danger,
The tyrants will, and his power taught to murther,
My tender care controlls my blood within me,
And like a cold fit of a peevish Ague
Creeps to my soul, and flings an Ice upon me,

Enter Queen, Evanthe, Ladies, and Fool.

That locks all powers of youth up: but prevention—
O what a blessedness 'twere to be old now,
To be unable, bed-rid with diseases,
Or halt on Crutches to meet holy Hymen;
What a rare benefit! but I am curst,
That that speaks other men most freely happy,
And makes all eyes hang on their expectations,
Must prove the bane of me, youth, and ability.
She comes to bed, how shall I entertain her?

Tony. Nay I come after too, take the fool with ye,
For lightly he is ever one at Weddings.

Queen. Evanthe, make ye unready, your Lord staies for ye,
And prethee be merry.

Tony. Be very merry, Chicken,
Thy Lord will pipe to thee anon, and make thee dance too.

Lady. Will he so, good-man ass?

Tony. Yes good filly,
And you had such a Pipe, that piped so sweetly,
You would dance to death, you have learnt your sinque a pace.

Evan. Your grace desires that that is too free in me,
I am merry at the heart.

Tony. Thou wilt be anon, the young smug boy will give thee a sweet cordial.

Evan. I am so taken up in all my thoughts,
So possest Madam with the lawfull sweets
I shall this night partake of with my Lord,
So far transported (pardon my immodesty.)

Val. Alas poor wench, how shall I recompence thee?

Evan. That though they must be short, and snatcht away too,
E're they grow ripe, yet I shall far prefer 'em
Before a tedious pleasure with repentance.

Val. O how my heart akes!

Evan. Take off my Jewels Ladies,
And let my Ruff loose, I shall bid good night to ye,
My Lord staies here.

Queen. My wench, I thank thee heartily,
For learning how to use thy few hours handsomly,
They will be years I hope; off with your Gown now,
Lay down the bed there!

Tony. Shall I get into it and warm it for thee? a fools fire is a fine thing,
And I'le so buss thee.

Queen. I'le have ye whipt ye Rascal.

Tony. That will provoke me more, I'le talk with thy husband,
He's a wise man I hope.

Evan. Good night dear Madam,
Ladies, no further service, I am well,
I do beseech your grace to give us this leave,
My Lord and I to one another freely,
And privately, may do all other Ceremonies,
Women and Page we'l be to one another,
And trouble you no farther.

Tony. Art thou a wise man?

Val. I cannot tell thee Tony, ask my neighbours.

Tony. If thou beest so, go lye with me to night,
The old fool will lye quieter than the young one,
And give thee more sleep, thou wilt look to morrow else
Worse than the prodigal fool the Ballad speaks of,
That was squeez'd through a horn.

Val. I shall take thy counsel.

Queen. Why then good night, good night my best Evanthe,
My worthy maid, and as that name shall vanish,
A worthy wife, a long and happy; follow Sirrah.

Evan. That shall be my care,
Goodness rest with your Grace.

Queen. Be lusty Lord, and take your Lady to ye,
And that power that shall part ye be unhappy.

Val. Sweet rest unto ye, to ye all sweet Ladies;
Tony good night.

Tony. Shall not the fool stay with thee?

Queen. Come away Sirrah. [Exeunt Queen, Ladies.

Tony. How the fool is sought for! sweet Malt is made of easie fire,
A hasty horse will quickly tire, a sudden leaper sticks i'th' mire,
Phlebotomy and the word lye nigher, take heed of friend I thee require;
This from an Almanack I stole, and learn[t] this Lesson from a fool.
Good night my Bird. [Exit Tony.

Evan. Good night wise Master Tony;
Will ye to bed my Lord? Come, let me help ye.

Val. To bed Evanthe, art thou sleepy?

Evant. No, I shall be worse if you look sad upon me,
Pray ye let's to bed.

Val. I am not well my love.

Evant. I'le make ye well, there's no such Physick for ye
As your warm Mistris arms.

Val. Art thou so cunning?

Evant. I speak not by experience, 'pray ye mistake not;
But if you love me—

Val. I do love so dearly,
So much above the base bent of desire,
I know not how to answer thee.

Evant. To bed then,
There I shall better credit ye; fie my Lord,
Will ye put a maid to't, to teach ye what to do?
An innocent maid? Are ye so cold a Lover?
In truth you make me blush, 'tis midnight too,
And 'tis no stoln love, but authorised openly,
No sin we covet, pray let me undress ye,
You shall help me; prethee sweet Valerio;
Be not so sad, the King will be more mercifull.

Val. May not I love thy mind?

Evant. And I yours too,
'Tis a most noble one, adorn'd with vertue;
But if we love not one another really,
And put our bodies and our mind together,
And so make up the concord of affection,
Our love will prove but a blind superstition:
This is no school to argue in my Lord,
Nor have we time to talk away allow'd us,
Pray let's dispatch, if any one should come
And find us at this distance, what would they think?
Come, kiss me and to bed.

Val. That I dare do, and kiss again.

Evant. Spare not, they are your own Sir.

Val. But to injoy thee is to be luxurious;
Too sensuall in my love, and too ambitious;
O how I burn! to pluck thee from the stalk,
Where now thou grow'st a sweet bud and a beauteous,
And bear'st the prime and honour of the Garden,
Is but to violate thy spring, and spoil thee.

Evant. To let me blow, and fall alone would anger ye.

Val. Let's sit together thus, and as we sit
Feed on the sweets of one anothers souls,
The happiness of love is contemplation,
The blessedness of love is pure affection,
Where no allay of actuall dull desires,
Of pleasure that partakes with wantonness,
Of humane fire that burns out as it kindles,
And leaves the body but a poor repentance,
Can ever mix, let's fix on that Evanthe,
That's everlasting, the tother casuall;
Eternity breeds one, the other fortune,
Blind as her self, and full of all afflictions.
Shall we love vertuously?

Evant. I ever loved so.

Val. And only think our love; the rarest pleasure,
And that we most desire, let it be humane,
If once injoyed grows stale, and cloys our appetites;
I would not lessen in my love for any thing,
Nor find thee but the same in my short journey,
For my loves safety.

Evant. Now I see I am old Sir,
Old and ill favour'd too, poor and despis'd,
And am not worth your noble Fellowship,
Your fellowship in Love, you would not else
Thus cunningly seek to betray a maid,
A maid that honours you thus piously;
Strive to abuse the pious love she brings ye.
Farewel my Lord, since ye have a better Mistris,
For it must seem so, or ye are no man,
A younger, happier, I shall give her room,
So much I love ye still.

Val. Stay my Evanthe,
Heaven bear me witness, thou art all I love,
All I desire, and now have pity on me,
I never lyed before; forgive me Justice,
Youth and affection stop your ears unto me.

Evant. Why do you weep? if I have spoke too harshly,
And unbeseeming, my beloved Lord,
My care and duty, pardon me.

Val. O hear me,
Hear me Evanthe; I am all on torture,
And this lye tears my conscience as I vent it;
I am no man.

Evant. How Sir?

Val. No man for pleasure, no womans man.

Eva. Goodness forbid my Lord, sure you abuse your self.

Val. 'Tis true Evanthe;
I shame to say you will find it. [Weeps.

Evant. He weeps bitterly,
'Tis my hard fortune, bless all young maids from it;
Is there no help my Lord in art will comfort ye?

Val. I hope there is.

Evant. How long have you been destitute?

Val. Since I was young.

Evant. 'Tis hard to dye for nothing,
Now you shall know 'tis not the pleasure Sir,
(For I am compell'd to love you spiritually)
That women aim at, I affect ye for,
'Tis for your worth; and kiss me, be at peace,
Because I ever loved ye, I still honour ye,
And with all duty to my Husband follow ye;
Will ye to bed now? ye are asham'd i[t] seems;
Pygmalion pray'd and his cold stone took life,
You do not know with what zeal I shall ask Sir,
And what rare miracle that may work upon ye;
Still blush? prescribe your Law.

Val. I prethee pardon me,
To bed, and I'le sit by thee, and mourn with thee,
Mourn both our fortunes, our unhappy ones:
Do not despise me, make me not more wretched,
I pray to Heaven when I am gone Evanthe,
As my poor date is but a span of time now,
To recompence thy noble patience,
Thy love and vertue with a fruitfull husband,
Honest and honourable.

Evant. Come, you have made me weep now,
All fond desire dye here, and welcom chastity,
Honour and chastity, do what you please Sir. [Exeunt.

[Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.]

Enter at one door Rugio, and Frier Marco, at the other door Sorano, with a little glass viol.

Rug. What ails this piece of mischief to look sad?
He seems to weep too.

Mar. Something is a hatching,
And of some bloody nature too, Lord Rugio,
This Crocodile mourns thus cunningly.

Sor. Hail holy Father,
And good day to the good Lord Rugio,
How fares the sad Prince I beseech ye Sir?

Rug. 'Tis like you know, you need not ask that question,
You have your eyes and watches on his miseries
As near as ours, I would they were as tender.

Mar. Can you do him good? as the King and you appointed him,
So he is still, as you desir'd I think too,
For every day he is worse (Heaven pardon all)
Put off your sorrow, you may laugh now Lord,
He cannot last long to disturb your Master,
You have done worthy service to his Brother,
And he most memorable love.

Sor. You do not know Sir
With what remorse I ask, nor with what weariness
I groan and bow under this load of honour,
And how my soul sighs for the beastly services,
I have done his pleasures, these be witness with me,
And from your piety believe me Father,
I would as willingly unclothe my self
Of title, that becomes me not I know;
Good men, and great names best agree together;
Cast off the glorious favours, and the trappings
Of sound and honour, wealth and promises,
His wanton pleasures have flung on my weakness,
And chuse to serve my countries cause and vertues,
Poorly and honestly, and redeem my ruines,
As I would hope remission of my mischiefs.

Rug. Old and experienc'd men, my Lord Sorano,
Are not so quickly caught with gilt hypocrisie,
You pull your claws in now and fawn upon us,
As lyons do to intice poor foolish beasts;
And beasts we should be too if we believ'd ye,
Go exercise your Art.

Sor. For Heaven sake scorn me not,
Nor adde more Hell to my afflicted soul
Than I feel here; as you are honourable,
As you are charitable look gently on me,
I will no more to Court, be no more Devil,
I know I must be hated even of him
That was my Love now, and the more he loves me
For his foul ends, when they shall once appear to him,
Muster before his conscience and accuse him,
The fouler and the more falls his displeasure,
Princes are fading things, so are their favours.

Mar. He weeps again, his heart is toucht sure with remorse.

Sor. See this, and give me fair attention good my Lord,
And worthy Father see, within this viol
The remedy and cure of all my honour,
And of the sad Prince lyes.

Rug. What new trick's this?

Sor. 'Tis true, I have done Offices abundantly
Ill and prodigious to the Prince Alphonso,
And whilst I was a knave I sought his death too.

Rug. You are too late convicted to be good yet.

Sor. But Father, when I felt this part afflict me,
This inward part, and call'd me to an audit
Of my misdeeds and mischiefs—

Mar. Well, go on Sir.

Sor. O then, then, then what was my glory then Father?
The favour of the King, what did that ease me?
What was it to be bow'd to by all creatures?
Worship[t], and courted, what did this avail me?
I was a wretch, a poor lost wretch.

Mar. Still better.

Sor. Till in the midst of all my grief I found
Repentance, and a learned man to give the means to it,
A Jew, an honest and a rare Physician,
Of him I had this Jewel; 'tis a Jewel,
And at the price of all my wealth I bought it:
If the King knew it I must lose my head,
And willingly, most willingly I would suffer,
A child may take it, 'tis so sweet in working.

Mar. To whom would you apply it?

Sor. To the sick Prince,
It will in half a day dissolve his melancholy.

Rug. I do believe, and give him sleep for ever.
What impudence is this, and what base malice,
To make us instruments of thy abuses?
Are we set here to poison him?

Sor. Mistake not, yet I must needs say, 'tis a noble care,
And worthy vertuous servants; if you will see
A flourishing estate again in Naples,
And great Alphonso reign that's truly good,
And like himself able to make all excellent;
Give him this drink, and this good health unto him. [Drinks.
I am not so desperate yet to kill my self,
Never look on me as a guilty man,
Nor on the water as a speedy poison:
I am not mad, nor laid out all my treasure,
My conscience and my credit to abuse ye;
How nimbly and how chearfully it works now
Upon my heart and head! sure I am a new man,
There is no sadness that I feel within me,
But as it meets it, like a lazie vapour
How it flyes off. Here, give it him with speed,
You are more guilty than I ever was,
And worthier of the name of evil subjects,
If but an hour you hold this from his health.

Rug. 'Tis some rare vertuous thing sure, he is a good man,
It must be so, come, let's apply it presently,
And may it sweetly work.

Sor. Pray let me hear on't, and carry it close my Lords.

Mar. Yes, good Sorano. [Ex. Rugio, Marco.

Sor. Do my good fools, my honest pious coxcombs,
My wary fools too: have I caught your wisedoms?
You never dream't I knew an Antidote,
Nor how to take it to secure mine own life;
I am an Asse, go, give him the fine cordial,
And when you have done go dig his grave, good Frier,
Some two hours hence we shall have such a bawling,
And roaring up and down for Aqua vitæ,
Such rubbing, and such nointing, and such cooling,
I have sent him that will make a bonfire in's belly,
If he recover it, there is no heat in Hell sure. [Exit.

Enter Frederick, and Podrano.

Fred. Podrano?

Pod. Sir.

Fred. Call hither Lord Valerio, and let none trouble us.

Pod. It shall be done Sir. [Exit.

Fred. I know he wants no additions to his tortures,
He has enough for humane blood to carry,
Yet I must vex him further;
So many that I wonder his hot youth
And high-bred spirit breaks not into fury;
I must yet torture him a little further,
And make my self sport with his miseries,
My anger is too poor else. Here he comes,

Enter Val.

Now my young married Lord, how do you feel your self?
You have the happiness you ever aim'd at,
The joy and pleasure.

Val. Would you had the like Sir.

Fred. You tumble in delights with your sweet Lady,
And draw the minutes out in dear embraces,
You live a right Lords life.

Val. Would you had tryed it,
That you might know the vertue but to suffer,
Your anger though it be unjust and insolent,
Sits handsomer upon you than your scorn,
To do a wilfull ill and glory in it,
Is to do it double, double to be damn'd too.

Fred. Hast thou not found a loving and free Prince,
High in his favours too; that has confer'd
Such hearts ease, and such heaps of comfort on thee,
All thou cou'dst ask?

Val. You are grown a tyrant too
Upon so suffering, and so still a subject;
You have put upon me such a punishment,
That if your youth were honest it would blush at:
But you are a shame to nature, as to vertue.
Pull not my rage upon ye, 'tis so just,
It will give way to no respect; my life,
My innocent life, I dare maintain it Sir,
Like a wanton prodigal you have flung away,
Had I a thousand more I would allow 'em,
And be as careless of 'em as your will is;
But to deny those rights the Law hath given me,
The holy Law, and make her life the penance,
Is such a studied and unheard of malice,
No heart that is not hired from Hell dare think of;
To do it then too, when my hopes were high,
High as my Blood, all my desires upon me,
My free affections ready to embrace her,

Enter Cassandra.

And she mine own; do you smile at this? is't done well?
Is there not Heaven above you that sees all? [Exit Val.

Fred. Come hither Time, how does your noble Mistriss?

Cas. As a Gentlewoman may do in her case that's newly
married, Sir:
Sickly sometimes, and fond on't, like your Majesty.

Fred. She is breeding then?

Cas. She wants much of her colour,
And has her qualms as Ladies use to have, Sir,
And her disgusts.

Fred. And keeps her Chamber?

Cas. Yes Sir.

Fred. And eats good Broths and Jellies.

Cas. I am sure she sighs, Sir, and weeps, good Lady.

Fred. Alas, good Lady, for it,
She should have one could comfort her, Cassandra,
Could turn those tears to joys, a lusty Comforter.

Cas. A comfortable man does well at all hours,
For he brings comfortable things.

Fred. Come hither, & hold your fann between, you have eaten Onions,
Her breath stinks like a Fox, her teeth are contagious,
These old women are all Elder-Pipes, do ye mark me?

[Gives a Purse.

Cas. Yes, Sir, but does your Grace think I am fit,
That am both old and vertuous?

Fred. Therefore the fitter, the older still the better,
I know thou art as holy as an old Cope,
Yet upon necessary use—

Cas. 'Tis true, Sir.

Fred. Her feeling sense is fierce still, speak unto her,
You are familiar; speak I say, unto her,
Speak to the purpose; tell her this, and this.

Cas. Alas, she is honest, Sir, she is very honest,
And would you have my gravity—

Fred. I, I, your gravity will become the cause the better,
I'll look thee out a Knight shall make thee a Lady too,
A lusty Knight, and one that shall be ruled by thee,
And add to these, I'll make 'em good, no mincing,
Nor ducking out of nicety, good Lady,
But do it home, we'll all be friends too, tell her,
And such a joy—

Cas. That's it that stirs me up, Sir,
I would not for the World attempt her Chastity,
But that they may live lovingly hereafter.

Fred. For that I urge it too.

Cas. A little evil may well be suffered for a general good, Sir,
I'll take my leave of your Majesty. [Exit.

Enter Valerio.

Fred. Go fortunately, be speedy too: here comes Valerio,
If his affliction have allayed his spirit
My work has end. Come hither, Lord Valerio,
How do you now?

Val. Your Majesty may guess,
Not so well, nor so fortunate as you are,
That can tye up mens honest wills, and actions.

Fred. You clearly see now, brave Valerio,
What 'tis to be the Rival to a Prince,
To interpose against a raging Lion;
I know you have suffer'd, infinitely suffer'd,
And with a kind of pity I behold it,
And if you dare be worthy of my mercy,
I can yet heal you; yield up your Evanthe,
Take off my sentence also.

Val. I fall thus low, Sir,
My poor sad heart under your feet I lay,
And all the service of my life.

Fred. Do this then, for without this 'twill be impossible,
Part with her for a while.

Val. You have parted us,
What should I do with that I cannot use Sir?

Fred. 'Tis well consider'd, let me have the Lady,
And thou shalt see how nobly I'll befriend thee,
How all this difference—

Val. Will she come do you think, Sir?

Fred. She must be wrought, I know she is too modest,
And gently wrought, and cunningly.

Val. 'Tis fit, Sir.

Fred. And secretly it must be done.

Val. As thought.

Fred. I'll warrant ye her honour shall be fair still,
No soil nor stain shall appear on that, Valerio,
You see a thousand that bear sober faces,
And shew of as inimitable modesties;
You would be sworn too that they were pure Matrons,
And most chaste maids: and yet to augment their fortunes,
And get them noble friends—

Val. They are content, Sir,
In private to bestow their Beauties on 'em.

Fred. They are so, and they are wise, they know no want for't,
Nor no eye sees they want their honesties.

Val. If it might be carried thus.

Fred. It shall be, Sir.

Val. I'll see you dead first, with this caution,
Why, sure I think it might be done.

Fred. Yes, easily.

Val. For what time would your Grace desire her Body?

Fred. A month or two, it shall be carried still
As if she kept with you, and were a stranger,
Rather a hater of the grace I offer;
And then I will return her with such honour—

Val. 'Tis very like I dote much on your Honour.

Fred. And load her with such favour too, Valerio—

Val. She never shall claw off? I humbly thank ye.

Fred. I'll make ye both the happiest, and the richest,
And the mightiest too—

Val. But who shall work her, Sir?
For on my Conscience she is very honest,
And will be hard to cut as a rough Diamond.

Fred. Why, you must work her, any thing from your tongue,
Set off with golden, and perswasive Language,
Urging your dangers too.

Val. But all this time
Have you the conscience, Sir, to leave me nothing,
Nothing to play withal?

Fred. There be a thousand, take where thou wilt.

Val. May I make bold with your Queen,
She is useless to your Grace, as it appears, Sir,
And but a loyal Wife that may be lost too;
I have a mind to her, and then 'tis equal?

Fred. How, Sir?

Val. 'Tis so, Sir, thou most glorious impudence,
Have I not wrongs enow to suffer under,
But thou must pick me out to make a Monster?
A hated Wonder to the World? Do you start
At my intrenching on your private liberty,
And would you force a high-way through mine honour,
And make me pave it too? But that thy Queen
Is of that excellent honesty,
And guarded with Divinity about her,
No loose thought can come near, nor flame unhallowed,
I would so right my self.

Fred. Why, take her to ye,
I am not vex'd at this, thou shalt enjoy her,
I'll be thy friend if that may win thy courtesie.

Val. I will not be your Bawd, though for your Royalty.
Was I brought up, and nourish'd in the Court,
With thy most Royal Brother, and thy self,
Upon thy Fathers charge, thy happy Fathers,
And suckt the sweetness of all humane arts,
Learn'd Arms and Honour, to become a Rascal;
Was this the expectation of my Youth,
My growth of Honour? Do you speak this truly,
Or do you try me, Sir? for I believe not,
At least I would not, and methinks 'tis impossible
There should be such a Devil in a Kings shape,
Such a malignant Fiend.

Fred. I thank ye, Sir,
To morrow is your last day, and look to it,
Get from my sight, away.

Val. Ye are—Oh, my heart's too high and full to think upon ye.

[Exeunt.

Enter Evanthe, and Cassandra.

Evan. You think it fit then, mortified Cassandra,
That I should be a Whore?

Cas. Why a Whore, Madam?
If every Woman that upon necessity
Did a good turn, for there's the main point, mark it,
Were term'd a Whore, who would be honest, Madam?
Your Lords life, and your own are now in hazard,
Two precious lives may be redeem'd with nothing,
Little or nothing; say an hours or days sport,
Or such a toy, the end to it is wantonness.
(That we call lust that maidens lose their fame for)
But a compell'd necessity of honour,
Fair as the day, and clear as innocence,
Upon my life and conscience, a direct way—

Evan. To be a Rascal.

Cas. 'Tis a kind of Rape too,
That keeps you clear, for where your will's compell'd
Though you yield up your Body you are safe still.

Evan. Thou art grown a learned Bawd, I ever look'd
Thy great sufficiency would break out.

Cas. You may,
You that are young, and fair scorn us old Creatures,
But you must know my years, ere you be wise, Lady,
And my experience too; say the King loved ye?
Say it were nothing else?

Evan. I, marry wench, now thou comest to me.

Cas. Do you think Princes favours are such sleight things,
To fling away when you please? there be young Ladies
Both fair and honourable, that would leap to reach 'em,
And leap aloft too.

Evan. Such are light enough;
I am no Vaulter, Wench, but canst thou tell me,
Though he be a King, whether he be sound or no?
I would not give my Youth up to infection.

Cas. As sound as honour ought to be, I think, Lady;
Go to, be wise, I do not bid you try him;
But if he love you well, and you neglect him,
Your Lords life hanging on the hazard of it,
If you be so wilful proud.

Evan. Thou speakest to the point still;
But when I have lain with him, what am I then, Gentlewoman?

Cas. What are you? why, the same you are now, a woman,
A vertuous Woman, and a noble Woman,
Touching at what is noble, you become so.
Had Lucrece e'r been thought of but for Tarquin?
She was before a simple unknown Woman,
When she was ravish'd, she was a reverend Saint;
And do you think she yielded not a little?
And had a kind of will to have been re-ravish'd?
Believe it, yes: there are a thousand stories
Of wondrous loyal Women, that have slipt,
But it has been on the ice of tender honour,
That kept 'em cool still to the World. I think you are blest,
That have such an occasion in your hands to beget a Chronicle,
A faithful one.

Evan. It must needs be much honour.

Cas. As you may make it, infinite, and safe too,
And when 'tis done, your Lord and you may live
So quietly, and peaceably together,
And be what you please.

Evan. But suppose this, Wench,
The King should so delight me with his Company,
I should forget my Lord, and no more look on him.

Cas. That's the main hazard, for I tell you truly,
I have heard report speak he is an infinite pleasure,
Almost above belief; there be some Ladies,
And modest to the world too, wondrous modest,
That have had the blessedness to try his body,
That I have heard proclaim him a new Hercules.

Evan. So strongly able?

Cas. There will be the danger,
You being but a young and tender Lady,
Although your mind be good, yet your weak Body,
At first encounter too, to meet with one
Of his unconquer'd strength.

Evan. Peace, thou rude Bawd,
Thou studied old corruptness, tye thy tongue up,
Your hired base tongue; is this your timely counsel?
Dost thou seek to make me dote on wickedness?
Because 'tis ten times worse than thou deliver'st it?
To be a Whore, because he has sufficiency
To make a hundred? O thou impudence!
Have I reliev'd thy Age to mine own ruine?
And worn thee in my Bosome, to betray me?
Can years and impotence win nothing on thee
That's good and honest, but thou must go on still?
And where thy bloud wants heat to sin thy self,
Force thy decrepit will to make me wicked?

Cas. I did but tell ye.

Evan. What the damnedst Woman,
The cunning'st and the skilfull'st Bawd comes short of;
If thou hadst liv'd ten Ages to be damn'd in,
And exercis'd this Art the Devil taught thee,
Thou could'st not have express'd it more exactly.

Cas. I did not bid you sin.

Evan. Thou woo'd'st me to it,
Thou that art fit for Prayer and the Grave,
Thy Body Earth already, and Corruption,
Thou taught'st the way; go follow your fine function,
There are houses of delight, that want good Matrons,
Such grave Instructors, get thee thither, Monster,
And read variety of sins to wantons,
And when they roar with pains, learn to make plaisters.

Cas. This we have for our good wills.

Evan. If e'r I see thee more,
Or any thing that's like thee, to affright me,
By this fair light I'll spoil thy Bawdery,
I'll leave thee neither Eyes nor Nose to grace thee.
When thou wantest Bread, and common pity towards thee,

Enter Frederick.

And art a starving in a Ditch, think of me,
Then dye, and let the wandring Bawds lament thee;
Be gone, I charge thee leave me.

Cas. You'll repent this. [Exit.

Fred. She's angry, and t'other crying too, my suit's cold.
I'll make your heart ake, stubborn Wench, for this;
Turn not so angry from me, I will speak to you,
Are you grown proud with your delight, good Lady,
So pamper'd with your sport you scorn to know me?

Evan. I scorn ye not, I would you scorn'd not me, Sir,
And forc't me to be weary of my duty,
I know your Grace, would I had never seen ye.

Fred. Because I love you, because I dote upon ye,
Because I am a man that seek to please ye.

Evan. I have man enough already to content me,
As much, as noble, and as worthy of me,
As all the World can yield.

Fred. That's but your modesty,
You have no man, nay never look upon me,
I know it, Lady, no man to content ye,
No man that can, or at the least, that dares,
Which is a poorer man, and nearer nothing.

Evan. Be nobler, Sir, inform'd.

Fred. I'll tell thee, Wench,
The poor condition of this poorer fellow,
And make thee blush for shame at thine own errour,
He never tendred yet a husbands duty,
To thy warm longing bed.

Evan. How should he know that?

Fred. I am sure he did not, for I charg'd him no,
Upon his life I charg'd him, but to try him;
Could any brave or noble spirit stop here?
Was life to be preferr'd before affection?
Lawful and long'd for too?

Evan. Did you command him?

Fred. I did in policy to try his spirit.

Evan. And could he be so dead cold to observe it?
Brought I no beauty, nor no love along with me?

Fred. Why, that is it that makes me scorn to name him.
I should have lov'd him if he had ventur'd for't,
Nay, doted on his bravery.

Evan. Only charg'd?
And with that spell sit down? dare men fight bravely
For poor slight things, for drink, or ostentation?
And there indanger both their lives and fortunes,
And for their lawful loves fly off with fear?

Fred. 'Tis true, and with a cunning base fear too to abuse thee?
Made thee believe, poor innocent Evanthe,
Wretched young Girl, it was his impotency;
Was it not so? deny it.

Evan. O my anger! at my years to be cozen'd with a young man!

Fred. A strong man too, certain he lov'd ye dearly.

Evan. To have my shame and love mingled together,
And both flung on me like a weight to sink me,
I would have dyed a thousand times.

Fred. So would any,
Any that had the spirit of a man;
I would have been kill'd in your arms.

Evan. I would he had been,
And buried in mine arms, that had been noble,
And what a monument would I have made him?
Upon this breast he should have slept in peace,
Honour, and everlasting love his mourners;
And I still weeping till old time had turn'd me,
And pitying powers above into pure crystal.

Fred. Hadst thou lov'd me, and had my way been stuck
With deaths, as thick as frosty nights with stars,
I would have ventur'd.

Evan. Sure there is some trick in't: Valerio ne'r was Coward.

Fred. Worse than this too,
Tamer, and seasoning of a baser nature,
He set your woman on ye to betray ye,
Your bawdy woman, or your sin solicitor;
I pray but think what this man may deserve now,
I know he did, and did it to please me too.

Evan. Good Sir afflict me not too fast, I feel
I am a woman, and a wrong'd one too,
And sensible I am of my abuses,
Sir, you have loved me.

Fred. And I love thee still, pity thy wrongs, and dote upon thy person.

Evan. To set my woman on me 'twas too base, Sir.

Fred. Abominable vile.

Evan. But I shall fit him.

Fred. All reason and all Law allows it to ye,
And ye are a fool, a tame fool, if you spare him.

Evan. You may speak now, and happily prevail too,
And I beseech your Grace be angry with me.

Fred. I am at heart. She staggers in her faith,
And will fall off I hope, I'll ply her still.
Thou abused innocence, I suffer with thee,
If I should give him life, he would still betray thee;
That fool that fears to dye for such a Beauty,
Would for the same fear sell thee unto misery.
I do not say he would have been Bawd himself too.

Evan. Follow'd thus far? nay then I smell the malice,
It tastes too hot of practis'd wickedness,
There can be no such man, I am sure no Gentleman;
Shall my anger make me whore, and not my pleasure?
My sudden inconsiderate rage abuse me?
Come home again, my frighted faith, my vertue,
Home to my heart again; he be a Bawd too?

Fred. I will not say he offered fair Evanthe.

Evan. Nor do not dare, 'twill be an impudence,
And not an honour for a Prince to lye;
Fye, Sir, a person of your rank to trifle,
I know you do lye.

Fred. How?

Evan. Lye shamefully, and I could wish myself a man but one day,
To tell you openly you lye too basely.

Fred. Take heed, wild fool.

Evan. Take thou heed, thou tame Devil,
Thou all Pandora's Box in a Kings figure,
Thou hast almost whor'd my weak belief already,
And like an Engineer blown up mine honour;
But I shall countermine, and catch your mischief,
This little Fort you seek, I shall man nobly,
And strongly too, with chaste obedience
To my dear Lord, with vertuous thoughts that scorn ye.
Victorious Thomyris ne'r won more honour
In cutting off the Royal head of Cyrus,
Than I shall do in conquering thee; farewel,
And if thou canst be wise, learn to be good too.
'Twill give thee nobler lights than both thine eyes do;
My poor Lord and my self are bound to suffer,
And when I see him faint under your sentence,
I'll tell ye more, it may be then I'll yield too.

Fred. Fool unexampled, shall my anger follow thee?

[Exeunt.

Enter Rugio, and Fryar Marco, amazed.

Rugio. Curst on our sights, our fond credulities,
A thousand curses on the Slave that cheated us,
The damn'd Slave.

Mar. We have e'n sham'd our service,
Brought our best care and loyalties to nothing,
'Tis the most fearful poyson, the most potent,
Heaven give him patience; Oh it works most strongly,
And tears him, Lord.

Rug. That we should be so stupid
To trust the arrant'st Villain that e'r flatter'd,
The bloodiest too, to believe a few soft words from him,
And give way to his prepar'd tears.

Within, Alphonso. Oh, Oh, Oh.

Rug. Hark, Fryar Marco, hark, the poor Prince, that
we should be such Block-heads,
As to be taken with his drinking first!
And never think what Antidotes are made for!
Two wooden sculls we have, and we deserve to be hang'd for't;
For certainly it will be laid to our charge;
As certain too, it will dispatch him speedily,
Which way to turn, or what to—

Mar. Let's pray, Heavens hand is strong.

Rug. The poyson's strong, you would say.

Enter Alphonso, carried on a Couch by two Fryars.

Would any thing—He comes, let's give him comfort.

Alph. Give me more air, air, more air, blow, blow,
Open thou Eastern Gate, and blow upon me,
Distill thy cold dews, O thou icy Moon,
And Rivers run through my afflicted spirit.
I am all fire, fire, fire, the raging dog star
Reigns in my bloud, Oh which way shall I turn me?
Ætna, and all his flames burn in my head,
Fling me into the Ocean or I perish;
Dig, dig, dig, till the Springs fly up,
The cold, cold Springs, that I may leap into 'em,
And bathe my scorcht Limbs in their purling Pleasures.
Or shoot me up into the higher Region,
Where treasures of delicious Snow are nourisht,
And Banquets of sweet Hail.

Rug. Hold him fast Fryer, O how he burns!

Alph. What will ye sacrifice me?
Upon the Altar lay my willing body,
And pile your Wood up, fling your holy incense;
And as I turn me you shall see all flame,
Consuming flame, stand off me, or you are ashes.

Both. Most miserable wretches.

Alph. Bring hither Charity
And let me hug her, Fryer, they say she's cold,
Infinite cold Devotion cannot warm her;
Draw me a river of false lovers tears
Clean through my breast, they are dull, cold, and forgetful,
And will give ease, let Virgins sigh upon me,
Forsaken souls, the sighs are precious,
Let them all sigh: Oh hell, hell, hell, Oh horror.

Mar. To bed, good Sir.

Alph. My bed will burn about me,
Like Phaeton, in all consuming flashes
I am inclosed, let me fly, let me fly, give room;
Betwixt the cold Bear, and the raging Lyon
Lyes my safe way; O for a cake of Ice now,
To clap unto my heart to comfort me;
Decrepit Winter hang upon my shoulders,
And let me wear thy frozen Isicles
Like Jewels round about my head, to cool me;
My eyes burn out, and sink into their sockets,
And my infected brain like brimstone boils,
I live in Hell, and several furies vex me;
O carry me where no Sun ever shew'd yet
A face of comfort, where the earth is Crystal,
Never to be dissolv'd, where naught inhabits
But night and cold, and nipping frosts, and winds
That cut the stubborn rocks and make them shiver;
Set me there friends.

Rug. Hold fast, he must to bed, Fryer, what scalding sweats he has!

Mar. He'll scald in Hell for't, that was the cause.

Alph. Drink, drink, a world of drink,
Fill all the cups and all the antick vessels,
And borrow pots, let me have drink enough,
Bring all the worthy drunkards of the time,
The experienc'd drunkards, let me have them all,
And let them drink their worst, I'le make them Ideots,
I'le lye upon my Back and swallow Vessels;
Have Rivers made of cooling Wine run through me,
Not stay for this mans health, or this great Princes,
But take an Ocean, and begin to all; Oh, oh.

Mar. He cools a little, now away with him,
And to his warm bed presently.

Alph. No drink? no wind? no cooling air?

Rug. You shall have any thing.
His hot fit lessens, Heaven put in a hand now,
And save his life; there's drink Sir in your chamber,
And all cool things.

Alph. Away, away, let's fly to 'em. [Exeunt.

Enter Valerio and Evanthe.

Evan. To say you were impotent, I am asham'd on't,
To make your self no man, to a fresh Maid too,
A longing Maid, upon her wedding night also,
To give her such a dor.

Val. I prethee pardon me.

Evan. Had you been drunk, 't had been excusable,
Or like a Gentleman under the Surgions hands,
And so not able, there had been some colour,
But wretchedly to take a weakness to ye,
A fearful weakness, to abuse your body,
And let a lye work like a spell upon ye,
A lye, to save your life.

Val. Will you give me leave, sweet?

Ev. You have taken too much leave, and too base leave too,
To wrong your love; hast thou a noble spirit?
And canst thou look up to the peoples loves,
That call thee worthy, and not blush, Valerio?
Canst thou behold me that thou hast betray'd thus,
And no shame touch thee?

Val. Shame attend the sinful, I know my innocence.

Evan. Ne'r think to face it, that's a double weakness,
And shews thee falser still; the King himself,
Though he be wicked, and our Enemy,
But juster than thou art, in pity of my injuries,
Told me the truth.

Val. What did he tell thee, Evanthe?

Evan. That but to gain thy life a fortnight longer,
Thy lov'd poor life, thou gav'st up all my duties.

Val. I swear 'tis false; my life and death are equal,
I have weigh'd 'em both, and find 'em but one fortune,
But Kings are men, and live as men, and dye too,
Have the affections men have, and their falsehoods;
Indeed they have more power to make 'em good;
The King's to blame, it was to save thy life Wench,
Thy innocent life, that I forbore thy bed,
For if I had toucht thee thou hadst dyed, he swore it.

Evan. And was not I as worthy to dye nobly?
To make a story for the time that follows,
As he that married me? what weakness, Sir,
Or disability do you see in me,
Either in mind or body? to defraud me
Of such an opportunity? Do you think I married you
Only for pleasure, or content in lust?
To lull you in my arms, and kiss you hourly?
Was this my end? I might have been a Queen, Sir,
If that had caught me, and have known all delicates;
There's few that would have shun'd so fair an offer.
O thou unfaithful fearful man, thou hast kill'd me,
In saving me this way, thou hast destroy'd me,
Rob'd me of that thy love can never give more;
To be unable to save me? O misery!
Had I been my Valerio, thou Evanthe,
I would have lyen with thee under a Gallows,
Though the Hangman had been my Hymen, and the furies
With iron whips and forks, ready to torture me.
I would have hug'd thee too, though Hell had gap'd at me;
Save my life! that expected to dye bravely,
That would have woo'd it too: Would I had married
An Eunuch, that had truly no ability,
Then such a fearful lyar, thou hast done me
A scurvy courtesie, that has undone me.

Val. I'le do no more, since you are so nobly fashion'd,
Made up so strongly, I'le take my share with ye,
Nay, dear, I'le learn of you.

Evan. He weeps too tenderly;
My anger's gone, good my Lord pardon me,
And if I have offended, be more angry,
It was a Womans flash, a sudden valour,
That could not lye conceal'd.

Val. I honour ye, by all the rites of holy marriage,
And pleasures of chaste love, I wonder at ye,
You appear the vision of a Heaven unto me,
Stuck all with stars of honour shining clearly,
And all the motions of your mind Celestial;
Man is a lump of Earth, the best man spiritless,
To such a woman; all our lives and actions
But counterfeits in Arras to this vertue;
Chide me again, you have so brave an anger,
And flows so nobly from you, thus deliver'd,
That I could suffer like a Child to hear ye,
Nay make my self guilty of some faults to honour ye.

Eva. I'le chide no more, you have rob'd me of my courage,
And with a cunning patience checkt my impudence;
Once more forgiveness? [She kneels.

Val. Will this serve, Evanthe? [Kisses her.
And this my love? Heavens mercy be upon us;
But did he tell no more?

Evan. Only this trifle: you set my woman on me, to betray me;
'Tis true, she did her best, a bad old woman,
It stir'd me, Sir.

Val. I cannot blame thee, Jewel.

Evan. And me thought when your name was sounded that way—

Val. He that will spare no fame, will spare no name, sweet;
Though as I am a man, I am full of weakness,
And may slip happily into some ignorance,
Yet at my years to be a bawd, and cozen
Mine own hopes with my Doctrine—

Eva. I believe not, nor never shall; our time is out to morrow.

Val. Let's be to night then full of fruitfulness,
Now we are both of one mind, let's be happy,
I am no more a wanting man, Evanthe,
Thy warm embraces shall dissolve that impotence,
And my cold lye shall vanish with thy kisses;
You hours of night be long, as when Alcmena
Lay by the lusty side of Jupiter;
Keep back the day, and hide his golden beams,
Where the chaste watchful morning may not find 'em;
Old doting Tython hold Aurora fast,
And though she blush the day-break from her cheeks,
Conceal her still; thou heavy Wain stand firm,
And stop the quicker revolutions;
Or if the day must come, to spoil our happiness,
Thou envious Sun peep not upon our pleasure,
Thou that all Lovers curse, be far off from us.

Enter Castruchio with Guard.

Evan. Then let's to bed, and this night in all joyes
And chaste delights—

Cast. Stay, I must part ye both;
It is the Kings command, who bids me tell ye,
To morrow is your last hour.

Val. I obey, Sir,
In Heaven we shall meet, Captain, where King Frederick
Dare not appear to part us.

Cast. Mistake me not, though I am rough in doing of my Office,
You shall find, Sir, you have a friend to honour ye.

Val. I thank ye, Sir.

Evan. Pray captain tell the King,
They that are sad on Earth, in Heaven shall sing. [Exeunt.

[Actus Quintus. Scena Prima.]

Enter Fryer Marco, and Rugio.

Rug. Have you writ to the Captain of the Castle?

Mar. Yes, and charged him
Upon his souls health, that he be not cruel,
Told him Valerio's worth among the people,
And how it must be punisht in posterity,
Though he scape now.

Rug. But will not he, Fryer Marco, betray this to the King?

Mar. Though he be stubborn, and of a rugged nature, yet he is honest,
And honours much Valerio.

Rug. How does Alphonso?
For now me thinks my heart is light again,
And pale fear fled.

Mar. He is as well as I am;
The Rogue against his will has sav'd his life,
A desperate poison has re-cur'd the Prince.

Rug. To me 'tis most miraculous.

Mar. To me too, till I consider why it should do so,
And now I have found it a most excellent Physick,
It wrought upon the dull cold misty parts,
That clog'd his soul, which was another poison,
A desperate too, and found such matter there,
And such abundance also to resist it,
And wear away the dangerous heat it brought with it,
The pure blood and the spirits scap'd untainted.

Rug. 'Twas Heavens high hand, none of Sorano's pity.

Mar. Most certain 'twas, had the malitious villain

Enter Castruchio.

Given him a cooling poison, he had paid him.

Rug. The Captain of the Castle.

Mar. O ye are welcome, how does your Prisoner?

Cast. He must go for dead;
But when I do a deed of so much villany,
I'le have my skin pull'd o're mine ears, my Lord,

Enter Alphonso and Fryers.

Though I am the Kings, I am none of his abuses;
How does your Royal charge? that I might see once.

Mar. I pray see now, you are a trusty Gentleman.

Alph. Good Fathers, I thank Heaven, I feel no sickness.

Cast. He speaks again.

Alph. Nothing that bars the free use of my spirit,
Me thinks the air's sweet to me, and company
A thing I covet now, Castruchio.

Cast. Sir, he speaks, and knows, for Heaven sake break my pate Lord,
That I may be sure I sleep not.

Alph. Thou wert honest,
Ever among the rank of good men counted,
I have been absent long out of the world,
A dream I have lived, how does it look Castruchio?
What wonders are abroad?

Cast. I fling off duty to your dead Brother, for he is dead in goodness,
And to the living hope of brave Alphonso,
The noble heir of nature, and of honour,
I fasten my Allegeance.

Mar. Softly Captain, we dare not trust the Air with this blest secret,
Good Sir, be close again, Heaven has restor'd ye,
And by miraculous means, to your fair health,
And made the instrument your enemies malice,
Which does prognosticate your noble fortune;
Let not our careless joy lose you again, Sir,
Help to deliver ye to a further danger,
I pray you pass in, and rest a while forgotten,
For if your Brother come to know you are well again,
And ready to inherit as your right,
Before we have strength enough to assure your life,
What will become of you? and what shall we
Deserve in all opinions that are honest,
For our loss of judgment, care, and loyalty?

Rug. Dear Sir, pass in, Heaven has begun the work,
And blest us all, let our indeavours follow,
To preserve this blessing to our timely uses,
And bring it to the noble end we aim at;
Let our cares work now, and our eyes pick out
An hour to shew ye safely to your Subjects,
A secure hour.

Alph. I am counsel'd; ye are faithful.

Cast. Which hour shall not be long, as we shall handle it.
Once more the tender of my duty.

Alph. Thank ye.

Cast. Keep you the Monastery.

Rug. Strong enough I'le warrant ye. [Exeunt.

Enter the Fool, and Podrano.

Pod. Who are all these that crowd about the Court, Fool?
Those strange new faces?

Fool. They are Suitors, Coxcomb,
Dainty fine Suitors to the Widow Lady,
Thou hadst best make one of 'em, thou wilt be hang'd as handsomly
At the Months end, and as much joy follow'd,
And 'twere to morrow; as many mourning Bawds for thee,
And holy Nuns, whose vestal fire ne'r vanishes,
In sackcloth Smocks, as if thou wert Heir apparent
To all the impious Suburbs, and the sink-holes.

Pod. Out you base Rogue.

Fool. Why dost abuse thy self?
Thou art to blame, I take thee for a Gentleman,
But why does not thy Lord and Master marry her?

Pod. Why, she is his Sister.

Fool. 'Tis the better, Fool,
He may make bold with his own flesh and blood,
For o' my conscience there's none else will trust him;
Then he may pleasure the King at a dead pinch too,
Without a Mephestophilus, such as thou art,
And ingross the Royal disease like a true Subject.

Pod. Thou wilt be whipt.

Fool. I am sure thou wilt be hang'd,
I have lost a Ducket else, which I would be loth to venture
Without certainty. They appear. [Suitors pass by.

Pod. Why these are Rascals.

Fool. They were meant to be so, does thy Master deserve better kindred?

Pod. There's an old Lawyer,
Trim'd up like a Gally Foist, what would he do with her?

Fool. As Usurers do with their Gold, he would look on her,
And read her over once a day, like a hard report,
Feed his dull eye, and keep his fingers itching;
For any thing else, she may appeal to a Parliament,
Sub Pœna's and Post Kaes have spoil'd his Codpiece;
There's a Physician too, older than he,
And Gallen Gallinacius, but he has lost his spurs,
He would be nibling too.

Pod. I marked the man, if he be a man.

Fool. H'as much ado to be so,
Searcloths and Sirrups glew him close together,
He would fall a pieces else; mending of she Patients,
And then trying whether they be right or no
In his own person, there's the honest care on't,
Has mollifi'd the man; if he do marry her,
And come but to warm him well at Cupids Bonfire,
He will bulge so subtilly and suddenly,
You may snatch him up by parcels, like a Sea Rack:
Will your Worship go, and look upon the rest, Sir?
And hear what they can say for themselves.

Pod. I'le follow thee. [Exeunt.

Enter Camillo, Menallo, Cleanthes, and Castruchio.

Cam. You tell us wonders.

Cast. But I tell you truths, they are both well.

Men. Why are not we in Arms then?
And all the Island given to know—

Cast. Discreetly and privately it must be done, 'twill miss else,
And prove our ruines; most of the noble Citizens
Know it by me, and stay the hour to attend it,
Prepare your hearts and friends, let their's be right too,
And keep about the King to avoid suspicion;

Enter Frederick and Sorano.

When you shall hear the Castle Bell, take courage,
And stand like men, away, the King is coming.

[Exeunt Lords.

Fre. Now Captain, what have you done with your prisoner?

Cast. He is dead, Sir, and his body flung into the Sea,
To feed the fishes, 'twas your will, I take it,
I did it from a strong Commission,
And stood not to capitulate.

Fred. 'Tis well done,
And I shall love you for your faith. What anger
Or sorrow did he utter at his end?

Cast. Faith little, Sir, that I gave any ear to,
He would have spoke, but I had no Commission
To argue with him, so I flung him off;
His Lady would have seen, but I lockt her up,
For fear her womans tears should hinder us.

Fred.. 'Twas trusty still. I wonder, my Sorano,
We hear not from the Monastery; I believe
They gave it not, or else it wrought not fully.

Cast. Did you name the Monastery?

Fred. Yes, I did Captain.

Cast. I saw the Fryer this morning, and Lord Rugio,
Bitterly weeping, and wringing of their hands,
And all the holy men hung down their heads.

Sara. 'Tis done I'le warrant ye.

Cast. I ask'd the reason.

Fred. What answer hadst thou?

Cast. This in few words, Sir,
Your Brother's dead, this morning he deceased,
I was your servant, and I wept not, Sir,
I knew 'twas for your good.

Fred. It shall be for thine too,
Captain, indeed it shall. O my Sorano,
Now we shall live.

Sor. I, now there's none to trouble ye.

Fred. Captain, bring out the woman, and give way
To any Suitor that shall come to marry her,
Of what degree soever.

Cast. It shall be done, Sir. [Exit Cast.

Fre. O let me have a lusty Banquet after it,

Enter Evanthe, Camillo, Cleanthes, Menallo, Fool.

I will be high and merry.

Sor. There be some Lords
That I could counsel ye to fling from Court, Sir,
They pry into our actions, they are such
The foolish people call their Countries honours,
Honest brave things, and stile them with such Titles,
As if they were the patterns of the Kingdom,
Which makes them proud, and prone to look into us,
And talk at random of our actions,
They should be lovers of your commands,
And followers of your will; bridles and curbs
To the hard headed Commons that malign us,
They come here to do honour to my Sister,
To laugh at your severity, and fright us;
If they had power, what would these men do?
Do you hear, Sir, how privily they whisper?

Fred. I shall silence 'em,
And to their shames within this week Sorano,
In the mean time have patience.

Sor. How they jeer, and look upon me as I were a Monster!
And talk and jeer! how I shall pull your plumes, Lords
How I shall humble ye within these two daies!
Your great names, nor your Country cannot save ye.

Fred. Let in the Suitors. Yet submit, I'le pardon ye,
You are half undone already, do not wind
My anger to that height, it may consume ye,

Enter Lawyer, Physician, Captain, Cut-purse.

And utterly destroy thee, fair Evanthe: yet I have mercy.

Evan. Use it to your bawds,
To me use cruelty, it best becomes ye,
And shews more Kingly: I contemn your mercy,
It is a cozening, and a bawdy mercy;
Can any thing be hoped for, to relieve me?
Or is it fit? I thank you for a pity, when you have kill'd my Lord.

Fred. Who will have her?

Evan. My tears are gone,
My tears of love to my dear Valerio,
But I have fill'd mine eyes again with anger;
O were it but so powerful to consume ye.
My tongue with curses I have arm'd against ye,
With Maiden curses, that Heaven crowns with horrors,
My heart set round with hate against thy tyranny;
O would my hands could hold the fire of Heaven,
Wrapt in the thunder that the Gods revenge with,
That like stern Justice I might fling it on thee;
Thou art a King of Monsters, not of men,
And shortly thou wilt turn this Land to Devils.

Fred. I'le make you one first, and a wretched Devil,
Come who will have her?

Law. I an't like your Majesty, I am a Lawyer,
I can make her a Joynture of any mans Land in Naples,
And she shall keep it too, I have a trick for it.

Fool. Canst thou make her a Joynture of thine honesty?
Or thy abili[t]y, thou lewd abridgment?
Those are non suted and flung o're the bar.

Phy. An't please your Majesty to give me leave,
I dare accept her; and though old I seem, Lady,
Like Æson, by my art I can renew youth and ability.

Fool. In a powdering Tub
Stew thy self tender again, like a Cock Chicken,
The broth may be good, but the flesh is not fit for dogs sure.

Capt. Lady, take me, and I'le maintain thine honour,
I am a poor Captain, as poor people call me,
Very poor people, for my Souldiers
They are quartered in the outside of the City,
Men of ability, to make good a high way;
We have but two grand Enemies that oppose us,
The Don Gout, and the Gallows.

Fool. I believe ye, and both these you will bind her for a Jointure;
Now Signior firk.

Cut-purse. Madam, take me and be wise,
I am rich and nimble, and those are rare in one man,
Every mans pocket is my Treasury,
And no man wears a Sute but fits me neatly;
Cloaths you shall have, and wear the purest Linnen,
I have a tribute out of every Shop, Lady,
Meat you shall eat, I have my Caters out too,
The best and lustiest, and drink good Wine, good Lady,
Good quickening Wine, Wine that will make you caper.
And at the worst—

Fool. It is but capering short, Sir,
You seldom stay for Agues or for Surfeits,
A shaking fit of a whip sometimes o'retakes ye,
Marry you dye most commonly of choakings,
Obstructions of the halter are your ends ever;
Pray leave your horn and your knife for her to live on.

Eva. Poor wretched people, why do you wrong your selves?
Though I fear'd death, I should fear you ten times more,
You are every one a new death, and an odious,
The earth will purifie corrupted bodies,
You'll make us worse and stink eternally.
Go home, go home and get good Nurses for you,
Dream not of Wives.

Fred. You shall have one of 'em, if they dare venture for ye.

Evan. They are dead already,
Crawling diseases that must creep into
The next grave they find open, are these fit Husbands
For her you have loved, Sir? though you hate me now,
And hate me mortally, as I hate you,
Your nobleness, in that you have done otherwise,
And named Evanthe once as your poor Mistris,
Might offer worthier choice.

Fre. Speak, who dare take her for one moneth, and then dye?

Phy. Dye, Sir?

Fred. I, dye Sir, that's the condition.

Phy. One moneth is too little
For me to repent in for my former pleasure,
To go still on, unless I were sure she would kill me,
And kill me delicately before my day,
Make it up a year, for by that time I must dye,
My body will hold out no longer.

Fred. No Sir, it must be but a moneth.

Law. Then farewel Madam,
This is like to be a great year of dissention
Among good people, and I dare not lose it,
There will e money got.

Capt. Bless your good Ladiship, there's nothing in the
grave but bones and ashes,
In Taverns there's good wine, and excellent wenches,
And Surgeons while we live.

Cutp. Adieu sweet Lady,
Lay me when I am dead near a rich Alderman,
I cannot pick his Purse, no, I'le no dying,
Though I steal Linnen, I'le not steal my shrowd yet.

All. Send ye a happy match. [Exeunt.

Fool. And you all halters, you have deserved 'em richly.
These do all Villanies, and mischiefs of all sorts, yet those they fear not,
To flinch where a fair wench is at the stake.

Evan. Come, your sentence, let me dye: you see, Sir,
None of your valiant men dare venture on me,
A Moneth's a dangerous thing.

Enter Valerio disguis'd.

Fred. Away with her, let her dye instantly.

Evan. Will you then be willing
To dye at the time prefixt? that I must know too,
And know it beyond doubt.

Fred. What if I did wench?

Evan. On that condition if I had it certain,
I would be your any thing, and you should injoy me,
How ever in my nature I abhor you,
Yet as I live I would be obedient to you;
But when your time came how I should rejoyce,
How then I should bestir my self to thank ye,
To see your throat cut, how my heart would leap, Sir!
I would dye with you, but first I would so torture ye,
And cow you in your end, so despise you,
For a weak and wretched coward, you must end sure;
Still make ye fear, and shake, despised, still laugh at ye.

Fred. Away with her, let her dye instantly.

Cam. Stay, there's another, and a Gentleman,
His habit shews no less, may be his business
Is for this Ladies love.

Fred. Say why ye come, Sir, and what you are.

Val. I am descended nobly, a Prince by birth, and by my trade a Souldier,
A Princes fellow, Abidos brought me forth,
My Parents Duke Agenor, and fair Egla,
My business hither to renew my love
With a young noble spirit, call'd Valerio;
Our first acquaintance was at Sea, in fight
Against a Turkish man of War, a stout one,
Where Lyon-like I saw him shew his valour,
And as he had been made of compleat vertue,
Spirit, and fire, no dregs of dull earth in him.

Evan. Thou art a brave Gentleman, and bravely speakest him.

Val. The Vessel dancing under him for joy,
And the rough whistling winds becalm'd to view him;
I saw the child of honour, for he was young,
Deal such an Alms amongst the spightful Pagans,
His towring sword flew like an eager Falkon,
And round about his reach invade the Turks,
He had intrencht himself in his dead quarries;
The silver Crescents on the tops they carried
Shrunk in their heads to see his rage so bloody,
And from his fury suffered sad eclipses;
The game of death was never plaid more nobly,
The meager thief grew wanton in his mischiefs,
And his shrunk hollow eyes smil'd on his ruines.

Evan. Heaven keep this Gentleman from being a Suitor,
For I shall ne'r deny him, he's so noble.

Val. But what can last long? strength and spirit wasted,
And fresh supplies flew on upon this Gentleman,
Breathless and weary with oppression,
And almost kill'd with killing, 'twas my chance
In a tall Ship I had to view the fight;
I set into him, entertain'd the Turk,
And for an hour gave him so hot a breakfast,
He clapt all linnen up he had to save him,
And like a Lovers thought he fled our fury;
There first I saw the man I lov'd, Valerio,
There was acquainted, there my soul grew to him,
And his to me, we were the twins of friendship.

Evan. Fortune protect this man, or I shall ruine him.

Val. I made this voyage to behold my friend,
To warm my love anew at his affection;
But since I landed, I have heard his fate:
My Father's had not been to me more cruel,
I have lamented too, and yet I keep
The treasure of a few tears for you Lady,
For by description you were his Evanthe.

Evan. Can he weep that's a stranger to my story?
And I stand still and look on? Sir, I thank ye;
If noble spirits after their departure,
Can know, and wish, certain his soul gives thanks too;
There are your tears again, and when yours fail, Sir,
Pray ye call to me, I have some store to lend ye. Your name?

Val. Urbino.

Evan. That I may remember,
That little time I have to live, your friendships,
My tongue shall study both.

Fred. Do you come hither, only to tell this story, Prince Urbino?

Val. My business now is, Sir, to woo this Lady.

Evan. Blessing defend ye; do you know the danger?

Val. Yes, and I fear it not, danger's my play-fellow,
Since I was man 'thas been my best companion,
I know your doom, 'tis for a Moneth you give her,
And then his life you take that marries her.

Fred. 'Tis true, nor can your being born a Prince,
If you accept the offer, free you from it.

Val. I not desire it, I have cast the worst,
And even that worst to me is many blessings;
I lov'd my friend, not measur'd out by time,
Nor hired by circumstance of place and honour,
But for his wealthy self and worth I lov'd him,
His mind and noble mold he ever mov'd in,
And wooe his friend because she was worthy of him,
The only relique that he left behind, Sir;
To give his ashes honour, Lady take me,
And in me keep Valerio's love alive still,
When I am gone, take those that shall succeed me,
Heaven must want light, before you want a Husband,
To raise up heirs of love and noble memory,
To your unfortunate—

Evan. Am I still hated? hast thou no end, O fate, of my affliction?
Was I ordain'd to be a common Murdress?
And of the best men too? Good Sir—

Val. Peace Sweet, look on my hand.

Evan. I do accept the Gentleman, I faint with joy.

Fr. I stop it, none shall have her, convey this stranger hence.

Val. I am no stranger—Hark to the bell, that rings,
Hark, hark, proud Frederick, that was King of mischief,
Hark, thou abhorred man, dost thou hear thy sentence?
Does not this bell ring in thine ears thy ruine?

Fred. What bell is this?

Cam. The Castle bell: Stand sure, Sir, and move not, if you do you perish.

Men. It rings your knell; Alphonso, King Alphonso.

All. Alphonso, King Alphonso.

Fred. I am betrai'd, lock fast the Palace.

Cam. We have all the keys, Sir.
And no door here shall shut without our Licence.

Cle. Do you shake now, Lord Sorano? no new trick?
Nor speedy poison to prevent this business?
No bawdy meditation now to fly to?

Fred. Treason, Treason, Treason.

Cam. Yes, we hear ye,

Enter Alphonso, Rugio, Marco, Castruchio, Queen, with Guard.

And we have found the Traytor in your shape, Sir,
We'll keep him fast too.

Fred. Recover'd! then I am gone,
The Sun of all my pomp is set and vanisht.

Alp. Have you not forgot this face of mine, King Frederick?
Brother, I am come to see you, and have brought
A Banquet to be merry with your Grace;
I pray sit down, I do beseech your Majesty,
And eat, eat freely, Sir, why do you start?
Have you no stomach to the meat I bring you?
Dare you not taste? have ye no Antidotes?
You need not fear; Sorano's a good Apothecary,
Me thinks you look not well, some fresh wine for him,
Some of the same he sent me by Sorano;
I thank you for't, it sav'd my life, I am bound to ye,
But how 'twill work on you—I hope your Lordship
Will pledge him too, me thinks you look but scurvily,
And would be put into a better colour,
But I have a candi'd Toad for your Lordship.

Sor. Would I had any thing that would dispatch me,
So it were down, and I out of this fear once.

Fred. Sir, Thus low as my duty now compells me,
I do confess my unbounded sins, my errours,
And feel within my soul the smarts already;
Hide not the noble nature of a Brother,
The pity of a friend, from my afflictions;
Let me a while lament my misery,
And cast the load off of my wantonness,
Before I find your fury, then strike home,
I do deserve the deepest blow of Justice,
And then how willingly, O death, I'le meet thee!

Alp. Rise, Madam, those sweet tears are potent speakers,
And Brother live, but in the Monastery,
Where I lived, with the self same silence too,
I'le teach you to be good against your will, Brother,
Your tongue has done much harm, that must be dumb now;
The daily pilgrimage to my Fathers Tomb,
Tears, sighs, and groans, you shall wear out your daies with,
And true ones too, you shall perform dear Brother;
Your diet shall be slender to inforce these; too light a penance, Sir.

Fred. I do confess it.

Alph. Sorano you shall—

Sor. How he studies for it!
Hanging's the least part of my penance certain.

[Evanthe Kneels.

Alph. What Lady's that that kneels?

Cast. The chaste Evanthe.

Alph. Sweet, your Petition?

Evan. 'Tis for this bad man, Sir,
Abominable bad, but yet my Brother.

Alph. The bad man shall attend as bad a Master,
And both shall be confin'd within the Monastery;
His rank flesh shall be pull'd with daily fasting,
But once a week he shall s[m]ell meat, he will surfeit else,
And his immodest mind, compell'd to prayer;
On the bare boards he shall lye, to remember
The wantonness he did commit in beds;
And drink fair water, that will ne'r inflame him;
He sav'd my life, though he purpos'd to destroy me,
For which I'le save his, though I make it miserable:
Madam, at Court I shall desire your company,
You are wise and vertuous, when you please to visit
My Brother Frederick, you shall have our Licence,
My dear best friend, Valerio.

Val. Save Alphonso.

Omn. Long live Alphonso, King of us, and Naples.

Alph. Is this the Lady that the wonder goes on?
Honour'd sweet Maid, here take her my Valerio,
The King now gives her, she is thine own without fear:
Brother, have you so much provision that is good?
Not season'd by Sorano and his Cooks?
That we may venture on with honest safety,
We and our friends?

Fred. All that I have is yours, Sir.

Alph. Come then, let's in, and end this Nuptial,
Then to our Coronation with all speed:
My vertuous Maid, this day I'le be your Bride-man,
And see you bedded to your own desires too;
Beshrew me Lords, who is not merry hates me,
Only Sorano shall not bear my cup:
Come, now forget old pains and injuries,
As I must do, and drown all in fair healths;
That Kingdom's blessed, where the King begins
His true love first, for there all loves are twins.

[Exeunt Omnes.

Prologue.

You are wellcome Gentlemen, and would our Feast
Were so well season'd, to please every Guest;
Ingenuous appetites, I hope we shall,
And their examples may prevail in all.
Our noble friend, who writ this, bid me say,
He had rather dress, upon a Triumph day,
My Lord Ma[y]ors Feast, and make him Sawces too,
Sawce for each several mouth, nay further go,
He had rather build up those invincible Pyes
And Castle Custards that affright all eyes,
Nay eat 'em all and their Artillery,
Than dress for such a curious company
One single dish; yet he has pleas'd ye too,
And you've confest he knew well what to do;
Be hungry as you were wont to be, and bring,
Sharp stomachs to the stories he shall sing,
And he dare yet, he saies, prepare a Table
Shall make you say, well drest, and he well able.

Epilogue.

We have your favours, Gentlemen, and you
Have our indeavours, (dear Friends grudge not now,)
There's none of you, but when you please can sell
Many a lame Horse, and many a fair tale tell;
Can put off many a Maid unto a friend,
That was not so since th' action at Mile-end;
Ours is a Virgin yet, and they that love
Untainted flesh, we hope our friends will prove.

THE
LOVERS PROGRESS.

A
TRAGEDY.

Persons Represented in the Play.

• King of France.
• Cleander, Husband to Calista.
• Lidian, Brother to Calista, {both in love with Olinda.
• Clarange, Rival to Lidian, {
• Dorilaus, Father to Lidian and Calista, a merry old man.
• Lisander, a noble Gentleman, in love with Calista.
• Alcidon, a friend, and second to Lidian.
• Beronte, Brother to Cleander.
• Lem[ure], a noble Courtier.
• Leon, a Villain, Lover of Clarinda.
• Mallfort, a foolish Steward of Cleander.
• Lancelot, Servant to Lisander.
• Fryar.
• Hosts ghost.
• Chamberlain.
• Servants.

WOMEN.

• Calista, a vertuous Lady, Wife to Cleander.
• Olinda, a noble Maid, and rich Heir, Mistress to Lidian and Clarange.
• Clarinda, a lustful Wench, Calista's waiting woman.

The Scene France.

The principal Actors were,

• Joseph Taylor.
• Robert Benfield.
• Thomas Polard.
• George Birch.
• John Lowin.
• John Underwood.
• Richard Sharpe.
• John Thomson.

Actus Primus. Scena Prima.

Enter Leon, and Mallfort.

Mal. And as I told you, Sir.

Leon. I understand you,
Clarinda's still perverse.

Mal. She's worse, obdurate,
Flinty, relentless, my love-passions jeer'd at,
My Presents scorn'd.

Leon. 'Tis strange a waiting-woman,
In her condition apt to yield, should hold out,
A man of your place, reverend Beard and shape,
Besieging her.

Mal. You might add too my wealth,
Which she contemns, five hundred Crowns per annum,
For which I have ventur'd hard, my Conscience knows it,
Not thought upon, though offer'd for a Joynture;
This Chain which my Lords Pesants worship, flouted;
My solemn hums and ha's, the servants quake at,
No Rhetorick with her; every hour she hangs out
Some new Flag of defiance to torment me;
Last Lent, my Lady call'd me her Poor John,
But now I am grown a walking Skeleton,
You may see through, and through me.

Leon. Indeed you are much faln away.

Mal. I am a kind of nothing,
As she hath made me; Love's a terrible Clyster,
And if some Cordial of her favours help not,
I shall like an Italian, dye backward,
And breathe my last the wrong way.

Leon. As I live, you have my pity; but this is cold comfort,
And in a friend lip-physick; and now I think on't,
I should do more, and will, so you deny not
Your self the means of comfort.

Mal. I'll be hang'd first; one dram of't I beseech you.

Leon. You are not jealous of any mans access to her?

Mal. I would not receive the Dor, but as a bosome friend
You shall direct me, still provided that
I understand who is the man, and what
His purpose, that pleads for me.

Leon. By all means:
First, for the undertaker, I am he;
The means that I will practise, thus—

Mal. Pray you forward.

Leon. You know your Lady, chaste Calista loves her.

Mal. Too well, that makes her proud.

Leon. Nay, give me leave,
This beauteous Lady, I may stile her so,
(Being the paragon of France for feature)
Is not alone contented in her self
To seem, and be good, but desires to make
All such as have dependance on her, like her;
For this Clarinda's liberty is restrain'd;
And though her kinsman, the gate's shut against me;
Now if you please to make your self the door,
For my conveyance to her, though you run
The hazard of a check for't, 'tis no matter.

Mal. It being for mine own ends.

Leon. I'll give it o'r,
If that you make the least doubt otherwise:
Study upon't: good morrow.

Mal. Pray you stay, Sir;
You are my friend; yet as the Proverb says,
When love puts in, friendship is gone: suppose
You should your self affect her?

Leon. Do you think I'll commit incest? for it is no less,
She being my Cousin German. Fare you well, Sir.

Mal. I had forgot that, for this once forgive me.
Only to ease the throbbing of my heart,
(For I do feel strange pangs) instruct me what
You will say for me.

Leon. First, I'll tell her that
She hath so far besotted you, that you have
Almost forgot to cast accompt.

Mal. Meer truth, Sir.

Leon. That of a wise and provident Steward,
You are turn'd stark Ass.

Mal. Urge that point home, I am so.

Leon. That you adore the ground she treads upon,
And kiss her footsteps.

Mal. As I do when I find their print in the snow.

Leon. A loving fool I know it,
By your bloudless frosty lips; then having related
How much you suffer for her, and how well
You do deserve it—

Mal. How? to suffer?

Leon. No, Sir, to have your love return'd.

Mal. That's good, I thank you.

Leon. I will deliver her an Inventory
Of your good parts: as this, your precious nose
Dropping affection; your high forehead reaching
Almost to the Crown of your head; your slender waste,
And a back not like a threshers, but a bending,
And Court-like back, and so forth, for your Body.
But when I touch your mind, for that must take her,
(Since your out-side promises little) I'll enlarge it,
(Though ne'r so narrow) as your arts to thrive,
Your composition with the Cook and Butler
For Cony-Skins and Chippings, and half a share
With all the under Officers of the house,
In strangers bounties, that she shall have all,
And you as 'twere her Bailiff.

Mal. As I will be.

Leon. As you shall, so I'll promise. Then your qualities,
As playing on a Gyttern, or a Jews-Trump.

Mal. A little too on the Viol.

Leon. Fear you nothing.
Then singing her asleep with curious Catches
Of your own making; for as I have heard,
You are Poetical.

Mal. Something given that way;
Yet my works seldom thrive: and the main reason
The Poets urge for't, is, because I am not
As poor as they are.

Leon. Very likely; fetch her
While I am in the vein.

Mal. 'Tis an apt time, my Lady being at her Prayers.

Leon. Let her pray on.
Nay go, and if upon my intercession
She do you not some favour, I'll disclaim her;
I'll ruminate on't the while.

Mal. A hundred Crowns is your reward.

Leon. Without 'em—nay no trifling. [Ex. Mal.
That this dull clod of ignorance should know
How to get money, yet want eyes to see
How grosly he's abus'd, and wrought upon!
When he should make his will, the Rogue's turn'd rampant,
As he had renew'd his youth; a handsome wench,
Love one a spittle-whore would run away from?
Well, Master Steward, I will plead for you
In such a method, as it shall appear
You are fit to be a property.

Enter Malfort, and Clarinda.

Mal. Yonder he walks
That knows my worth and value, though you scorn it.

Clar. If my Lady know not this—

Mal. I'll answer it:
If you were a Nun I hope your Cousin German
Might talk with you through a grate, but you are none,
And therefore may come closer; ne'r hang off,
As I live you shall bill; ye may salute as strangers,
Custom allows it. Now, now, come upon her
With all your Oratory, [tickle her to the quick,]
As a young Advocate should, and leave no Vertue
Of mine unmentioned, I'll stand centinel;
Nay keep the door my self. [Exit.

Clar. How have you work'd
This piece of motley to your ends?

Leon. Of that at leasure, Mistriss. [Kissing.

Clar. Lower, you are too loud,
Though the fool be deaf, some of the house may hear you.

Leon. Suppose they should, I am a Gentleman,
And held your Kinsman, under that I hope
I may be free.

Clar. I grant it, but with caution;
But be not seen to talk with me familiarly,
But at fit distance, or not seen at all,
It were the better; you know my Ladies humour,
She is all honour, and compos'd of goodness,
(As she pretends) and you having no business,
How jealous may she grow?

Leon. I will be rul'd.
But you have promis'd, and I must enjoy you.

Clar. We shall find time for that; you are too hasty,
Make your self fit and I shall make occasion,
Deliberation makes best in that business,
And contents every way.

Leon. But you must feed
This foolish Steward with some shadow of
A future favour, that we may preserve him
To be our instrument.

Clar. Hang him.

Leon. For my sake, Sweet,
I undertook to speak for him, any Bauble,
Or slight employment in the way of service,
Will feed him fat.

Enter Malfort.

Clar. Leave him to me.

Mal. She comes, my Lady.

Clar. I will satisfie her.

Mal. How far have you prevail'd?

Leon. Observe.

Clar. Monsieur Malfort,
I must be brief, my cousin hath spoke much
In your behalf, and to give you some proof,
I entertain you as my servant,
You shall have the grace.