BLURT Master-Constable. OR The Spaniards Night-walk. As it hath been sundry times privately acted by the Children of Paul's.  
— Patresque severi.  
Frond comas vincti coenant, et carmina dictant.  
LONDON, Printed for Henry Rockytt, and are to be sold at the long shop under S. Mildred's Church in the Poultry. 1602.   

Blurt Master Constable.  Enter Camillo with Violetta, Hipolito, Baptista, Bentivolio, & Virgilio, as returning from war, every one with a Glove in his hat, Ladies with them, Doyt and Dandiprat. Hipol 
I Mary Sir, the only rising up in Arms, is in the arms of a woman: peace (I say still) is your only Paradise, when every Adam may have his Christmas eve: and you take me lying any more by the cold sides of a brazen-face field-piece unless I have such a Down pillow under me, I'll give you leave to knock up both my golls in my Father's hall, and hang hats upon these tenpenny nails.  Viol. 
And yet brother, when with the sharpest hooks of my wit I laboured to pull you from the wars, you broke loose, like a horse that knew his own strength, and vowed, nothing but a man of war should back you.  Hip. 
I have been backed since and almost unbacked too.  Viol. 
And swore that honour was never died in grain, till it was dipped in the colours of the field.  Hip. 
I am a new man Sister, and now cry a pox a that honour, that must have none but barber-surgeons to wait upon't, and a band of poor straggling rascals, that every twinkling of an eye, forfeit their legs and arms into the Lords hands Wenches by Mars his sweaty Buff jerkin, (for now all my 〈◊〉 must smell o' the Soldado) I have seen more men's head 〈◊〉 up and down like footballs at a breakfast, after the hungry Cannons had picked them; than are Maidenheads in Venice: and more legs of men served in at a dinner, than ever I shall see legs of Capons in one platter whilst I live.  1 Lady. 
Perhaps all those were Capons legs you did see.  Virg. 
Nay mistress I'll witness against you for some of them.  Uiol. 
I do not think for all this, that my brother stood to it so lustily as he makes his brags for.  3 Lady. 
No, no, these great talkers are never great doers.  Uiol. 
Faith brother how many did you kill for your share?  Hip. 
Not so many as thou hast done with that villainous eye by a thousand.  Viol. 
I thought so much that's just none.  Cam. 
'tis not a soldiers glory to tell how many lives he has ended, but how many he has saved: in both which honours the noble Hipolito had most excellent possession. Believe it my fair Mistress, though many men in a battle have done more, your brother in this equalled him who did most: he went from you a worthy Gentleman, he brings with him that title that makes a Gentleman most worthy; the name of a Soldier, which how well and how soon he hath earned, would in me seem glorious to rehearse, in you to hear: but because his own ear dwells so near my voice, I will play the ill neighbour, and cease to speak well of him.  Viol. 
An argument that either you dare not, or love not to flatter.  Cam. 
No more than I dare or love to do wrong; yet to make a Chronicle of my friends nobly-acted deeds, would stand as far from flattery in me, as cowardice did from him.  Hip. 
'Sfoot if all the wit in this company have nothing to set itself about, but to run Division upon me, why then e'en burn off mine ears indeed, but my little Mermaids, signor Camillo does this, that I now might describe the ninivitical motion of the whole battle, and so tell what he has done: and come, shall I begin?  1 Lady. 
O for beauty's love, a good motion.  Hip. 
But I can tell you one thing, I shall make your hair stand up an end at some things.  Uiol. 
Prithee good brother Soldier keep the peace, our hair stand an end? pity a my heart, the next end would be of our wits: we hang out a white flag most terrible Tamberlaine, and beg mercy; come, come, let us neither have your ninivitical motions nor your swaggering battles: why my Lord Camillo, you invited me hither to a banquet, not to the Ballad of a pitched field.  Cam. 
And here it stands bright Mistress, sweetly attending what doom your lips willay upon it.  Viol. 
I marry Sir, let our teeth describe this Motion.  2 Lady. 
We shall never describe it well, for fumbling i'th' mouth.  Hip. 
Yes, yes, I have a trick to make us understand one another and we fumble never so—  Viol. 
Meddle not with his tricks sweet heart; under pardon my Lord, though I am your guest, I'll bestow myself, sit dear beauties: for the men, let them take up places themselves; I prithee brother fighter sit, & talk of any subject, but this langling law at Arms.  Hip. 
The law at logs then.  Vio. 
will you be so lusty? no nor legs neither, we'll have them tied up too, since you are among Ladies: gallants, handle those things only that are fit for Ladies.  Hip. 
Agreed so that we go not out of the compass of those things that are fit for Lords.  Viol. 
Be't so, what's the Theme then?  1 Lady. 
Beauty, that fits us best.  Cam. 
And of Beauty what tongue would not speak the best? since it is the jewel that hangs upon the brow of heaven, the best colour that can be laid upon the cheek of earth: beauty makes men Gods immortal, by making mortal men to live ever in love. (for love.  2 Lady. 
Ever? not so, I have heard that some men have died  Viol. 
So have I, but I could never see't: I'd ride forty miles to follow such a fellow to Church, and would make more of a sprig of Rosemary at his burial, than of a gilded Bride-branch at mine own wedding.  Camil. 
Take you such delight in men that die for love?  Uiol. 
Not in the men nor in the death, but in the deed; troth I think he is not a sound man that will die for a woman, and yet I would never love a man soundly, that would not knock at deaths door for my love.  Hip. 
I'd knock as long as I thought good, but have my brains knocked out when I entered, if I were he.  Cam. 
What Venetian Gentleman was there; that having this in his Burgonet, did not (to prove his head worthy of the honour) do more than defy death to the very face? trust us Ladies, our Signiory stands bound in greater sums of thanks to your beauties for victory, than to our valour: my dear Violetta one kiss to this picture of your whitest hand, when I was even faint, (with giving and receiving the dole of war)  
Set a new edge on my sword: in so much that,  
I singled out a gallant Spirit of France,  
And charged him with my Lance in full career,  
And after rich exchange of noble courage,  
(The space of a good hour on either side)  
At last crying, now for Violetta's honour,  
I vanquished him, and him (dismounted) took  
Not to myself, but prisoner to my love.  Viol. 
I have heard much praise of that French gallant, good my Lord, bring him acquainted with our eyes.  Cam. 
I will, go boy fetch noble Fontinell.  Exit Boy. Hip. 
Will your French prisoner drink well? or else cut his throat.  Cam. 
Oh no he cannot brook it.  Hip. 
The pox he can, 'slight methinks a French man should have a good courage to wine, for many of them be exceeding hot fiery whoresons, and resolute as Hector, and as valiant as Troilus; then come off and on bravely and lie by it, and sweat for't too, upon a good and a military advantage.  Enter Fontinell. Cam. 
Prithee have done here comes the prisoner.  Viol. 
My Lord Camillo, is this the Gentleman,  
Whose valour, by your valour is subdued?  Cam. 
It is fair Lady, and I yield him up,  
To be your beauty's worthy prisoner:  
Lord Fontinell, think your captivity  
Happy in this, she that hath conquered me,  
Receives my conquest, as my loves fair fee.  Viol. 
Fair stranger droop not, since the chance of wars  
Brings to the Soldier death, restraint, or scars.  Font. 
Lady, I know the fortune of the field,  
Is death with honour, or with shame to yield,  
As I have done.  Uiol. 
In that no scandal lies,  
Who dies when he may live, he doubly dies.  Font. 
My reputation's lost.  Uiol. 
Nay that's not so,  
You flee not but were vanquished by your foe,  
The eye of war respects not you nor him,  
It is our fate will have us lose or win,  
You will disdain if I you prisoner call?  Font. 
No, but rejoice, since I am beauty's thrall.  Hip. 
Enough of this, come wenches shake your heels.  Cam. 
Music advance thee on thy golden wing,  
And dance division from sweet string to string.  Font. 
Camillo I shall curb thy tyranny,  
In making me that lady's prisoner:  
She has an angel's body, but within't,  
Her coy heart says there lies a heart of flint,  Music for a Measure. 
Such beauty be my jailor? a heavenly hell!  
The darkest dungeon, which spite can devise,  
To throw this carcase in, her glorious eyes  
Can make as lightsome, as the fairest chamber  
In Paris Louvre: come captivity,  
And chain me to her looks; how am I tossed?  
Being twice in mind, as twice in body lost.  Whilst Fontinell speaks, they dance a strain, Violetta on a sudden breaks off, the rest stand talking. Cam. 
Not the measure out fair Mistress?  Viol. 
No, fair servant, not the measure out, I have on the sudden a foolish desire to be out of the measure.  Cam. 
What breeds that desire?  Viol. 
Nay I hope it is no breeding matter, tush, tush, by my maidenhead I will not, the music likes me not, and I have a shoe wrings me toth' heart; beside I have a woman's reason, I will not dance, because I will not dance: prithee dear Hero take my prisoner there into the measure; fie I cannot abide to see a man sad nor idle, I'll be out once, as the Music is (in mine care)  Font. 
Lady, bid him whose heart no sorrow feels,  
Tickle the rushes with his wanton heels,  
I have too much lead at mine.  1 Lady. 
I'll make it light.  Font. 
How?  1 Lady. 
By a nimble dance.  Font. 
You hit it right.  1 Lady. 
Your Keeper bids you dance.  Font. 
Then I obey,  
My heart I feel grows light, it melts away.  They dance, Violetta stands by marking Fontinell. Viol. 
In troth a very pretty French man, the carriage of his body likes me well; so does his footing so does his face, so does his eye above his face, so does himself, above all that can be above himself.  
Camillo thou hast played a foolish part,  
Thy prisoner makes a slave of thy loves heart.  
Shall Camillo then sing willow, willow, willow? not for the world: no, no, my French prisoner; I will use thee Cupid knows how, and teach thee to fall into the hands of a woman: if I do not feed thee with fair looks, near let me live: if thou getst out of my fingers till I have thy very heart, near let me love; nothing but thy life shall serve my turn, and how otherwise I'll plague thee, Monsieur you and I'll deal, only this, because I'll be sure he shall not start, I'll lock him in a little low room besides himself, where his wanton eye shall see neither Sun nor Moon: So, the dance is done, and my heart has done her worst, made me in love: farewell my Lord, I have much haste, you have many thanks, I am angered a little, but am greatly pleased: if you wonder that I take this strange leave; excuse it thus, that women are strange fools, and will take any thing.  Exit. Hip. 
Tricks: tricks? kerry merry buff; how now lad, in a trance?  Cam. 
Strange farewell: after, dear Hippolito,  
O what a maze is love of joy and woe!  Exeunt. Font. 
Strange frenzy; after wretched Fontinell,  
Oh what a heaven is love! oh what a hell!  Exit. Enter Lazarillo melancholy, and Pilcher his boy. Laz. 
Boy, I am melancholy because I burn.  Pil. 
And I am melancholy because I am a cold.  Laz. 
I pine away with the desire of flesh.  Pil. 
It's neither flesh nor fish that I pine for, but for both.  Laz. 
Pilcher, Cupid hath got me a stomach, and I long for laced mutton.  Pil. 
Plain mutton without a lace would serve me.  Laz. 
For as your tame Monkey is your only best, & most only beast to your Spanish Lady: or, as your Tobacco is your only smoker away of rheum, and all other rheumatic diseases: or as your Irish louse does bite most naturally fourteen weeks, after the change of your Saffron seamed shirt or, as the commodities which are sent out of the Low-countries (and put in vessels called mother Cornelius dry-fats) are most common in France: so it pleaseth the destinies, that I should thirst to drink out of a most sweet Italian vessel, being a Spaniard.  Pil. 
What vessel is that Signiort  La. 
A Woman Pilcher, the moist handed Madonna Imperia, a most rare and divine creature.  Pil. 
A most rascally damned Courtesan.  La. 
Boy, hast thou foraged the Country for a new lodging? for I have sworn to lay my bones in this city of Venice.  Pil. 
Any man that sees us will swear that we shall both lay our bones, and nothing but bones, and we stalk here longer; they tell me signor, I must go to the Constable, and he is to see you lodged.  La. 
inquire for that busy-member of the Chitty.  Enter Doyt and Dandyprat passing over. Pilc. 
I will, and here come a leash of Informers: save you plump youths.  Dan. 
And thee my lean stripling.  Pilc. 
Which is the Constable's house?  Doit. 
That at the sign of the brown Bill.  Pilch. 
Farewell.  Dan. 
Why, and farewell; the rogue's made of piecrust he's so short.  Pilch. 
The Officious Gentleman inherits here.  He knocks La. 
Knock, or enter, & let thy voice pull him out by the ears.  Doit. 
'slid Dandiprat, this is the Spanish curtal that in the last battle, fled twenty miles ere he looked behind him.  Dan. 
Doyt, he did the wiser: but sirrah, this block shall be a rare threshold for us to whet our wits upon; come, let's about our business, and if here we find him at our return, he shall find us this month in knavery.  Exeunt. Pil. 
What ho, nobody speaks, where dwells the Constable?  Enter Blurt and Slubber the Beadle. Blu. 
Here dwells the Constable; call assistance, give them my full charge, raze (if you see cause) now sir, what are you sir?  Pilc. 
Follower to that Spanish-leather Gentleman.  Blur. 
And what are you sir, that cry out upon me? look to his tools. What are are you sir? speak, what are you? I charge you what are you?  La. 
Most clear Mirror of Magistrates, I am a servitor to God Mars.  Blu. 
For your serving of God I am not to meddle, why do you raze me?  La. 
I desire to have a wide room in your favour: sweet blood, cast away your name upon me; for I neither know you by your face, nor by your voice  Blu. 
It may be so Sir; I have two voices in any company: one, as I am Master Constable: another, as I am Blurt: and the third, as I am Blurt Master Constable.  La. 
I understand, you are a mighty pillar or post in the city.  Blu. 
I am a poor post, but not to stand at every man's door, without my bench of Billmen: I am (for a better) the Duke's own Image and charge you in his name to obey me.  La. 
I do so.  Blu. 
I am to stand Sir in any bawdy house, or sink of wickedness: I am the Duke's own grace, and in any fray or resurrection, am to bestir my stumps as well as he; I charge you know  Slub. 
Turn the Arms to him. (this staff.  Blu. 
Upon this may I lean & no man say black's mine eye  La. 
Who so ever says you have a black eye, is a Camooche. most great Blurt; I do unpent-house the roof of my carcase & touch the knee of thy Office in Spanish complement, I desire to sojourn in your Chitty.  Blu. 
Sir, sir, for fault of a better, I am to charge you, not to keep a Soldiering in our City without a Precept: beside, by my office I am to search & examine you: have you the Duke's hand to pass? (fingers.  La. 
signor no, I have the general's hand at large, and all his  Blu. 
Except it be for the general good of the Commonwealth, the General cannot lead you up and down our City.  Laz. 
I have the general's hand to pass through the world at my pleasure.  Blurt. 
At your pleasure? that's rare; then roly-poly, our wives shall lie at your command: your General has no such authority in my precinct, and therefore I charge you pass no further.  Laz. 
I tell thee, I will pass through the world, thou little morsel of justice, and eat twenty such as thou art.  Blur. 
Sir, sir, you shall find Venice out of the world: I'll tickle you for that.  Laz. 
I will pass through the world, as Alexander Magnus did, to Conquer.  Blu. 
As Alexander of Saint Magnus did? that's another matter, you might have informed this at the first, & you never needed to have come to your answer: let me see your Pass, if it be not the Duke's hand, I'll tickle you for all this: quickly I pray▪ this staff is to walk in other places.  Laz. 
There it is.  Blu. 
Slubber, read it over.  Laz. 
Read it yourself, what bezonian is that?  Blu. 
This is my clerk sir, he has been clerk to a good many bonds and Bills of mine, I keep him only to read, for I cannot, my Office will not let me.  Pil. 
Why do you put on your Spectacles then?  Blu. 
To see that he read right: how now Slubber, be't the Duke's hand? I'll tickle him else.  Slu. 
Mastis not like his hand.  Blurt. 
Look well, the Duke has a wart on the back of his hand.  Slub. 
here's none on my word Master Constable, but a little blot.  Blur. 
Blot? let's see let's see; ho that stands for the wart, do you see the trick of that? Stay stay, is there not a little prick in the hand for the Duke's hand had a prick in't when I was with him, with opening Oysters.  Slu. 
Yes mass her's one, beside 'tis a goodly great long hand.  Blu. 
So has the Duke a goodly huge hand, I have shook him by it, (God forgive me) ten thousand times: he must pass like Alexander of Saint Magnus; Well Sir, ('tis your duty to stand bare) the Duke has sent his fist to me, and I were a jew if I should shrink for it; I obey, you must pass, but pray take heed with what dice you pass, I mean what company, for Sathan is most busy, where he finds one like himself. your name Sir?  La. 
Lazarillo de Tormes in Castille, cozen Germane to the Adolantado of Spain.  Blu. 
Are you so Sir? God's blessing on your heart: your name again Sir, if it be not too tedious for you?  La. 
Lazarillo de Tormes in Castille, cousin-german to the Spanish Adolantado.  Slub. 
I warrant he's a great man in his own Country.  Blu. 
Has a good name, Slubber set it down: write, Lazarus in torment at the Castle, and a cozening German, at the sign of the Palantido diddle in Spain: So Sir you are engrossed, you must give my Officer a groat it's nothing to me signor.  La. 
I will cancel when it comes to a sum.  Blu. 
Well Sir, well he shall give you an Item for't, make a bill and he'll tear it he says.  La. 
Most admirable Blurt, I am a man of war and profess fighting.  Blu. 
I charge you in the Duke's name keep the peace.  La. 
By your sweet favour most dear Blurt, you charge too fast, I am a hanger on upon Mars, and have a few Crowns.  Pil. 
Two: his own and mine.  La. 
And desire you to point out a fair lodging for me and my Train.  Blu. 
'tis my Office signor to take men up a nights, but if you will, my Maids shall take you up a mornings, since you profess fighting; I will commit you signor to mine own house, but will you pitch and pay, or will your Worship run—  La. 
I scorn to run from the face of Thamer Cham.  Blu. 
Then Sir, you mean not to run?  La. 
signor no.  Blu. 
Bear witness Slubber, that his answer is signor no: So now if he runs upon the score, I have him strait upon signor no; this is my house signor, enter.  La. 
March excellent Blurt: attend Pilchard.  Exeunt. Enter Doyt and Dandiprat. Pil. 
Upon your trencher signor, most hungerly.  Doy. 
Now sirrah where's thy Master?  Pil. 
The Constable has priest him.  Doy. 
What, for a Soldier?  Pil. 
ay, for a Soldier; but ere he'll go, I think indeed, he & I together shall press the Constable.  Dan. 
No matter, squeeze him, and leave no more liquour in him, than in a dried neats tongue: Sirrah thin-gut, what's thy name?  Pil. 
My name? you chops, why I am of the blood of the Pilchers.  Dan. 
Nay 'sfoot, if one should kill thee, he could not be hanged for't, for he would shed no blood, there's none in thee: Pilchard? thouart a most pitiful dried one.  Doy. 
I wonder thy master does not slice thee, and swallow thee for an Anchoves.  Pil. 
He wants wine Boy to swallow me down, for he wants money to swallow down wine: but farewell, I must dog my master.  Dan. 
As long as thou dog'st a Spaniard, thou'lt near be fatter; but stay, our haste is as great as thine, yet to endear ourselves into thy lean acquaintance cry Rivo Hogh, laugh and be fat, and for joy that we are met we'll meet and be merry, sing:  Pil. 
I'll make a shift to squeak.  Doyt. 
And I.  Dan. 
And I, for my profession is to shift as well as you, hem:  Sing. Music. Doit. 
What meat eats the Spaniard?  Pil. 
Dried Pilchers and poor john:  Dan. 
Alas thou art almost marred.  Pil. 
My cheeks are fallen and gone.  Doyt. 
Wouldst thou not leap at a piece of meat?  Pil. 
O how my teeth do water, I could eat  
For the heavens; my flesh is almost gone  
With eating of Pilchard and poor john.  Exeunt. Enter Fontenell from Tennis, and True-penny with him. Fon. 
Am I so happy then?  True. 
Nay sweet Monsieur.  Fon. 
O, boy thou hast new winged my captived soul,  
Now to my Fortune all the Fates may yield,  
For I have won where first I lost the field.  Tru. 
Why sir, did my Mistress prick you with the Spanish needle of her love, before I summoned you (from her) to this parley?  Font. 
Doubts thou that boy.  True. 
Of mine honesty I doubt extremely, for I cannot see the little God's tokens upon you: there is as much difference between you and a Lover, as between a Cuckold and a Unicorn.  Font. 
Why boy?  True. 
For you do not wear a pair of ruffled, frowning, ungartered Stockings, like a Gallant that hides his small timbered legs, with a quail-pipe boot: your hose stands upon too many points, and are not troubled with that falling sickness, which follows pale, meager, miserable, melancholy Lovers: your hands are not groping continually.  Font. 
Where my little observer?  Tru. 
In your greasy pocket sir, like one that wants a Cloak for the rain, and yet is still weather-beaten: your hat nor head are not of the true heigh-ho-block, for it should be broad brimmed, limber, like the skin of a white pudding when the meat is out: the Facing fatty: the Felt dusty, and not entered into any band, but your hat is of the nature of a loose, light, heavy-swelling wench, too strait laced: I tell you Monsieur, a Lover should be all loose from the sole of the foot rising upward; and from the Bases, or confines of the Slop, falling downwards: if you were in my Mistress's Chamber, you should find othergates privy signs of love hanging out there.  Font. 
Have your little eyes watched so narrowly?  Tru. 
Oh sir, a Page must have a cat's eye, a spaniel's leg, a whores tongue (a little tasting of the Cog) a catchpoles hand, what he gripes is his own; and a little little bawdy.  Font. 
Fair Violetta I will wear thy love,  
Like this French order, near unto my heart,  
Via for fate, Fortune, lo this is all,  
At griefs rebound I'll mount, although I fall.  Enter Camillo and Hipolito from Tennis, Doyt and Dandeprat with their cloaks and Rapiers. Cam. 
Now by Saint Mark he's a most treacherous villain,  
Dare the base Frenchman's eye gaze on my love?  Hip. 
Nay sweet rogue, why wouldst thou make his face a vizard, to have two loop-holes only? when he comes to a good face, may he not do with his eyes what he will: 'sfoot if I were as he, I'd pull them out, and if I wist they would anger thee.  Camil. 
Thou add'st heat to my rage, away, stand back,  
Dishonoured slave, more treacherous than base,  
This is the instance of my scorned disgrace.  Font. 
Thou ill advised Italian whence proceeds  
This sudden fury?  Cam. 
Villain from thee.  Hip. 
Hercules stand between them.  Font. 
Villain by my blood;  
I am as free borne as your Venice Duke.  
Villain, Saint Dennis and my life to boot,  
Thy lips shall kiss this pavement or my foot.  Hip. 
Your foot with a pox? I hope you're no Pope Sir, his lips shall kiss my sister's soft lip: and thine, the tough lips of this: nay Sir, I do but show you that I have a tool; do you heat Saint Dennis, but that we both stand upon the narrow bridge of Honour, I should cut your throat now, for pure love you bear to my Sister, but that I know you would set out a throat.  Cam. 
Wilt thou not Stab the peasant,  
That thus dishonours both thyself and me?  Hip. 
Saint Mark set his marks upon me then: stab? I'll have my shins broken, ere I'll scratch so much as the skin off, o' the law of Arms: shall I make a Frenchman cry oh, before the fall of the Leaf? not I by the Cross of this, Dandyprat.  Dan 
If you will Sir you shall coin me into a shilling.  Hip. 
I shall lay too heavy a cross upon thee then.  Cam. 
Is this a time to jest? boy call my servants.  Doit. 
Gentlemen to the dresser.  Enter Servingmens. Cam. 
You rogue what Dresser? cease on Fontenell,  
And lodge him in a Dungeon presently.  Font. 
He steps upon his death that stirs a foot.  Cam. 
That shall I try, as in the field before  
I made thee stoop, so here I'll make thee bow.  Font. 
Thou play'dst the Soldier then, the villain now.  Camillo and his men set upon him, get him down and disweapon him, and hold him fast. Font. 
Treacherous Italians.  Camil. 
Hale him to a Dungeon,  
There if your thoughts can apprehend the form,  
Of Violetta; dote on her rare feature,  
Or if your proud flesh with a sparing diet,  
Can still retain her swelling spritefulness;  
Then Court (instead of her) the croaking vermin,  
That people, that most solitary vault.  Hip. 
But sirrah Camillo, wilt thou play the wise and venerable bearded Master Constable, and commit him indeed, because he would be meddling in thy Precinct and will not put off the cap of his Love to the brown-bill of thy desires? Well, thou hast given the Law of Arms a broken pate already, therefore if thou wilt needs turn Broker, and be a cut-throat too, do: for my part, I'll go get a sweet ball, and wash my hands of it.  Cam. 
Away with him, my life shall answer it.  Font. 
To prison must I then? well, I will go,  
And with a light-winged spirit insult over woe,  
For in the darkest hell on earth, I'll find  
Her fair Idea to content my mind,  
Yet France and Italy with blistered tongue,  
Shall publish thy dishonour in my wrong  
Oh now how happy wert thou, couldst thou lodge me  
Where I could leave to love her?  Cam. 
By heaven I can.  Font. 
Thou canst: Oh happy man!  
This a kind of new invented law,  
First feed the Axe, after produce the Saw,  
Her heart no doubt will thy affections feel;  
For thou'lt plead sighs in blood, and tears in steel.  
Boy tell my love, her love thus sighing spoke:  
I'll vail my crest to death, for her dear sake.  Exit. Cam. 
Boy: what boy is that?  Hip. 
be't you Sir Pandarus, the broking Knight of Troy, are your two legs the pair of trestles, for the Frenchman to get up upon my Sister?  Tru. 
By the nine Worthies, worthy Gallants not I; I a Gentleman for Conveyance? I Sir Pandarus? would Troy then were in my breeches, and I burned worse than poor Troy: sweet signor you know, I know, and all Venice knows, that my Mistress scorns double dealing with her heels.  Hip. 
With her heels? O here's a sure pocket Dag, and my Sister shoots him off snipsnap at her pleasure. Sirrah Mephistopheles, did not you bring letters from my Sister to the Frenchman?  True. 
signor no.  Cam. 
Did not you fetch him out of the Tennis Court?  Tru. 
No point per mafoy, you see I have many tongues speak for me.  Hip. 
Did not he follow your crack-ship, at a beck given?  True. 
Ita, true, certes, he spied, & I spitting thus, went thus.  Hip. 
But were staid thus.  Tru. 
You hold a my side, and therefore I must needs stick to you, 'tis true: I going, he followed; and following, fingered me, just as your worship does now: but I struggled and straggled, and wraggled and wraggled, and at last cried Vale valet, as I do now, with this fragment of a rhyme:  
My Lady is grossly fallen in love, and yet her waste is slender,  
Had I not slipped away, you would have made my buttocks tender.  Exit. Dan. 
Shall Doyt & I play the Bloodhounds & after him?  Cam. 
No, let him run.  Hip. 
Not for this wager of my sister's love, run; away Dandyprat, catch Truepenny, & hold him, thyself shall pass more currant.  Da 
I fly Sir, your Dandiprat is as light as a clipped Angel.  Exit Hip. 
Nay God's lid after him Camillo, reply not but away.  Cam. 
Content, you know where to meet:  Exit. Hip. 
For I know that the only way to win a wench, is not to woe her: the only way to have her fast, is to have her loose: the only way to triumph over her, is to make her fall; and the way to make her fall,—  Doit. 
Is to throw her down.  Hip. 
Are you so cunning Sir?  Doit. 
O Lord Sir; and have so perfect a Master.  Hip. 
Well Sir, you know the Gentlewoman that dwells in the midst of Saint Marks street.  Doy. 
Midst of S. Marks street Sir?  Hip. 
A pox on you; the flea-bitten faced Lady.  Doit. 
Oh Sir, the freckle check Madonna, I know her signor, as well—  Hip. 
Not as I do, I hope Sir.  Doit. 
No Sir I de be loath to have such inward acquaintance with her as you have.  Hip. 
Well sir slip go presently to her, and from me deliver to her own white hands, Fontinell's picture.  Doit. 
Indeed Sir she loves to have her chamber hung with the pictures of men.  Hip. 
She does, le keep my sister's eyes and his painted face asunder; tell her beside, the Mask holds and this the night, & nine the hour; say we are all for her away.  Doit. 
And she's for you all, were you an Army.  Exeunt. Enter Imperia the Courtesan, two maids Trivia and Simperina, with perfumes. Imp. 
Fie, fie, fie, fie, by the light oath of my Fan, the weather is exceeding tedious and faint: Trivia, Simperina, stir, stir, stir, one of you open the Casements, tother take a ventoy and gently cool my face: fie, I ha' such an exceeding high colour, I so sweat; Simperina, dost hear? prithee be more compendious: why Simperina!  Sim. 
Here madam.  Imp. 
Press down my ruff before; away, fie, how thou blowest upon me, thy breath (God's me) thy breath, fie, fie, fie, fie, it takes off all the painting and colour from my cheek: In good faith I care not if I go and be sick presently; heigh ho, my head so aches with carrying this Bodkin: in troth I'll try if I can be sick.  Triu. 
nam good sweet Lady.  Sim. 
You know a company of Gallants will be here at night be not out of temper sweet mistress.  Imp. 
In good troth if I be not sick I must be melancholy then: this same gown never comes on but I am so melancholy, & so heart-burnt: 'tis a strange garment, I warrant Simperina the foolish tailor that made it, was troubled with the stitch, when he composed it.  Sim. 
That's very likely madam, but it makes you have oh a most incony body.  Imp. 
No, no no, no by Saint Mark the waste is not long enough, (for I love a long & tedious waste, beside, I have a most ungodly middle in it; and fie, fie, fie, fie, it makes me bend i'th' back: oh let me have some Music.  Music. Sim. 
That's not the fault in your gown madam, but of your bawdy.  Imp. 
Fa la la fa la la, indeed the bending of the back is the fault of the body la, la, la, la; fa la la, fa la la, la la lah.  Trm. 
O rich!  Sim. 
O rare!  Imp. 
No, no, no no, no: 'tis slight and common all that I do, prithee Simperina do not ingle me; do not flatter me Trivia, I ha' never a cast gown till the next week, fa la la, la la la, fa la la, fa la la etc. This stirring to and fro has done me much good; a song I prithee, I love these French movings; oh they are so clean if you tread them true, you shall hit them to a hair; sing, sing, sing some odd and fantastical thing, for I cannot abide these dull and lumpish tunes, the Musician stands longer a pricking them then I would do to hear them: no, no no give me your light ones that go nimbly and quick, and are full of changes and carry sweet division; ho prithee sing, stay, stay, stay, here's Hippolito's Sonnet, first read it and then sing it.  Reads. 

Song.  
In a fair woman what thing is best?  
I think a curral lip.  
No no you jest,  
She has a better thing.  
Then 'tis a pretty eye.  
Yet 'tis a better thing,  
Which more delight does bring.  
Then 'tis a cherry cheek.  
No, no, you l ye.  
Were neither lip, nor cheeks coral, nor cherry eyes,  
Were not her swelling breast stuck with strawberries,  
Nor had smooth hand, soft skin, white neck, pure eye,  
Yet she at this alone your love can tie.  
It is, O 'tis the only joy to men,  
The only praise to women; what be't then?  
This it is, O this it is, and in a woman's middle it is placed,  
In a most beauteous body, a heart most chaste:  
This is the jewel Kings may buy,  
If women sell this jewel, women bye.   One knocks within, Frisco answers within. Fris. 
Who the pox knocks?  Doy. 
One that will knock thy coxcomb if he do not enter.  Fris. 
If thou dost not enter, how canst thou knock me?  Doy. 
Why then I'll knock thee when I do enter.  Fris. 
Why then thou shalt not enter, but instead of me knock thy heels.  Doyt. 
Frisco I am Doyt Hippolito's Page:  Fris. 
And I am Frisco, Squire to a bawdy house.  Doyt. 
I have a jewel to deliver to thy Mistress.  Fris. 
be't set with precious stones?  Doyt. 
Thick, thick thick.  Enter Doyt with the picture, and Frisco. Fris. 
Why enter then thick, thick, thick.  Imp. 
Fie, fie, fie, fie, fie who makes that yawling at door?  Fry. 
here's signior Hipolito's man (that shall be) come to hang you.  Imp. 
Trivia, strip that villain; Simperina pinch him, slit his wide nose; fie, fie, fie, I'll have you gelded for this lustiness.  Fris. 
And she threatens to geld me unless I be lusty; what shall poor Frisco do?  Imp. 
Hang me.  Fris. 
Not I, hang me if you will, and set up my quarters too.  Imp. 
Hippolito's boy come to hang me?  Doy. 
to hang you with jewels, sweet and gentle; that's Frisco's meaning, and that's my coming.  Imp. 
Keep the door.  Fris. 
That's my Office indeed, I have been your doorkeeper so long, that all the hinges, the spring-locks and the ring, are worn to pieces; how if anybody knock at the door?  Imp. 
Let them enter, fie, fie, fie, fie, fie, his great tongue does so run through my little ears; 'tis more harsh than a yonger brother's courting of a Gentlewoman, when he has no crowns, Boy?  Doyt. 
At your service.  Imp. 
My service? alas alas, thou canst do me small service, did thy Master send this painted Gentle man to me?  Doyt. 
This painted Gentleman to you.  Imp. 
Well, I will hang his picture up by the walls, till I see his face, and when I see his face, I'll take his picture down: hold it Trivia.  Triu. 
It's most sweetly made.  Imp. 
Hang him up Simperina.  Simp. 
It's a most sweet man.  Imp. 
And does the Mask hold? let me see it again.  Doyt. 
If their visards hold, here you shall see all their blind cheeks; this is the night, nine the hour, and I the lack that gives warning.  Simp. 
He gives warning Mistress, shall I set him out?  Doyt. 
You shall not need, I can set out myself.  Exit. Imp. 
Flaxen hair, & short too, oh that's the French Cum! but fie, fie, fie, this Flaxen haired men are such pu-lers, and such piddlers, and such Chicken-hearts (and yet great quarrelers) that when they Court a Lady, they are for the better part bound to the peace: no, no, no, no, your black haired man (so he be fair) is your only sweet man, & in any service, the most active: a banquet Trivia; quick, quick, quick.  Triu. 
In a twinkling; 'slid my Mistress cries like the road-woman: quick quick, quick, buy any Rosemary and bays?  Exit. Imp. 
A little face, but a lovely face; fie, fie, fie, no matter what face he make, so the other parts be Legitimate, and go upright: stir, stir Simperina, be doing, be doing, quickly; move, move, move.  Sim. 
Most incontinently, move, move, move: o sweet!  Exit. Imp. 
hay ho, as I live I must love thee, and suck kisses from thy lips; alack that women should fall thus deeply in love, with dumb things, that have no feeling? but they are women's crosses, and the only way to take them is to take them patiently; heigh ho! set Music Frisco.  Enter Frisco, Trivia and Simperina. Fris. 
Music, if thou hast not a hard heart, speak to my Mistress.  Imp. 
Say he scorn to marry me, yet he shall stand me in some steed, by being my Ganymede: if he be the most decayed Gallant in all Venice, I will myself undo myself, and my whole state to set him up again: though speaking truth would save my life, I will lie to do him pleasure: yet to tell lies may hurt the soul: fie no no, no, souls are things to be trodden under our feet, when we dance after loves Pipe; therefore here hang this counterfeit at my bed's feet.  Fris. 
If he be counterfeit, nail him up upon one of your posts.  Imp. 
By the moist hand of love I swear, I will be his Lottery, and he shall never draw, but it shall be a prize.  Curuetto knock within. Frisco. 
Who knocks?  Curu. 
Why 'tis I knave.  Frisco. 
Then knave knock there still.  Curu. 
wilt open door?  Fris. 
Yes when I list I will.  Cur. 
here's money.  Fris. 
Much:  Cur. 
here's gold.  Fris. 
Away:  Cur. 
Knave open.  Fris. 
Call to our maids, God night, we are all a slopen.  
Mistress, if you have ever a Pinnace to set out, you may now have it maned and rigged; for signor Curvetto, he that cries, I am an old Courtier, but lie close, lie close, when our Maids swear he lies as wide as any Courtier in Italy.  Imp. 
Do we care how he lies?  Knocking. Fris. 
Anon, anon, anon, this old hoary red dear, serves himself in at your keyhole.  Cur. 
What Frisco?  Fris. 
Hark, shall he enter the breach?  Imp. 
Fie, fie, fie, I wonder what this gurnet's head makes here: yet bring him in, he will serve for picking meat; let Music play, for I will feign myself to be asleep.  Enter Curuetto. Cur. 
Three pence, and here's a teston, yet take all,  
Coming to jump, we must be prodigal:  
Hem, I am an old Courtier, and I can lie close;  
Put up Frisco, put up, put, up, put up.  Fris. 
Any thing at your hands sir, I will put up, because you seldom pull out any thing.  Sim. 
Softly sweet signor Curvetto, for she's fast.  Cur. 
Ha, fast? my Roba fast? and but young night:  
she's wearied, wearied, ah ha, hit I right?  Sim. 
How sir, wearied? marry foh.  Fris. 
Wearied Sir? mary muff.  Cur. 
No words, here mouse, no words, no words sweet rose,  
I am an hoary Courtier, & lie close, lie close, hem:  Fris. 
An old hoary Courtier? why so has a jowl of Ling, and a musty Whiting been (time out of mind) methinks signor, you should not be so old by your face:  Cur. 
I have a good heart knave; and a good heart  
Is a good face-maker, I am young, quick, brisk,  
I was a Reveller in a long stock;  
(There's not a gallant now fills such a stock)  
Plump hose, pained, stuffed with hair (hair then was held  
The lightest stuffing) a fair Codpiece: hoh,  
An eel-skin sleeve, lashed here and there with lace,  
High collar, lashed again: breech lashed also:  
A little simpering ruff, a dapper Cloak,  
With Spanish buttoned Cape: my Rapier here,  
Gloves like a Burgomaster here; hat here,  
(Stuck with some ten-groat brooch:) and over all,  
A goodly, long thick, Abram-coloured beard;  
Ho God, Ho God, thus did I Revel it.  
When monsieur Mot lay here Ambassador.  
But now those beards are gone, our Chins are bare;  
Our Corters now do all against the hair.  
I can lie close and see this, but not see,  
I am hoary, but not hoary as some be.  Imp. 
hay ho; who's that? signor Curvetto? by my virginity—  Cur. 
Hem, no more,  
Swear not so deep at this years, men have eyes,  
And though the most are fools, some fools are wise.  Imp. 
Fie, fie, fie, and you meet me thus at half weapon, one must down.  Fris. 
She for my life.  Imp. 
somebody shall pay for't.  Fris. 
He for my head.  Imp. 
Do not therefore come over me so with cross blows, no, no, no, I shall be sick, if my speech be stopped: by my Virginity I swear: and why may not I swear by that I have not, as well as poor musty Soldiers do by their honour: Brides, at four & twenty: ha, ha, ha, by their Maidenheads: Citizens, by their faith, and Brokers as they hope to be saved: by my Virginity I swear, I dreamed that one brought me a goodly Codshead, and in one of the eyes, there stuck( methought) the greatest precious stone, the most sparkling Diamond: oh fie, fie, fie, fie, fie, that Diamonds should make women such fools.  Cur. 
A Codshead and a Diamond, ha, ha, ha,  
'tis common, common, you may dream as well  
Of Diamonds and of Codsheads, where's not one,  
As swear by your Virginity where's none.  
I am that Codshead, she has spied my stone,  
My Diamond: noble wench, but nobler no see;  Puts it up. 
I am an old Courtier, and lie close, lie close.  The Cornets sound a lavolta which the Maskers are to dance, Camillo, Hippolito, and other Gallants, every one save Hippolito, with a Lady Masked, Zanies with Coaches enter suddenly: Curuetto offers to depart. Imp. 
No, no, no, if you shrink from me I will not love you: stay.  Cur. 
I am conjured, and will keep my circle.  They dance. Imp. 
Fie, fie, fie, by the neat tongue of eloquence, this measure is out of measure, 'tis too hot, too hot, gallants be not ashamed to show your own faces: Ladies unapparel your dear beauties: So, so, so, so, here is a banquet; sit, sit, sit signor Curvetto, thrust in among them, soft Music there, do, do, do.  Cur. 
I will first salute the men, close with the women, and last sit.  Hip. 
But not sit last: a banquet? and have these Suckets here? oh I have a crew of Angels prisoners in my pocket, and none but a good bale of dice can fetch them out: Dice ho; come my little lecherous Baboon, by Saint Mark, you shall venture your twenty crowns.  Cur. 
And have but one.  Hip. 
I swore first.  Cur. 
Right, you swore,  
But oaths are now like Blurt our Constable,  
Standing for nothing, a mere plot, a trick,  
The Mask dogged me, I hit it in the nick;  
A fetch to get my Diamond, my dear stone,  
I am a hoary Courtier, but lie close, close, close;  
I'll play Sir.  Hip. 
Come.  Cur. 
But in my tother hose.  Exit. Omnes. 
Curvetto?  Hip. 
Let him go, I knew what hook would choke him, and therefore baited that for him to nibble upon: an old comb-pecked rascal, that was beaten out a'th' Cockpit, when I could not stand a hye-lone without I held by a thing, to come crowing among us: hang him lobster; come, the same oath that your Foreman took, take all, and Sing.  

Song.  
Love is like a Lamb, and Love is like a Lion,  
Fly from Love, he fights; fight, then does he fly on:  
Love is all in fire, and yet is ever freezing,  
Love is much in winning, yet is more in losing.  
Love is ever sick, and yet is never dying,  
Love is ever true, and yet is ever lying.  
Love does dote in liking, and is mad in loathing,  
Love indeed is any thing, yet indeed is nothing.   Laz. 
Mars armipotent with his Court-of-guard, give sharpness to my Toledo, I am beleaguered, o Cupid grant that my blushing prove not a Linstocke, and give fire too suddenly to the roaring Meg of my desires; most Sanguine cheeked Ladies.  Hip. 
'Sfoot how now Don Dego; Sanguine cheeked? dost think their faces have been at Cutlers? out you roaring-tawnyfaced rascal, 'twere a good deed to beat my hilts about's coxcomb, and then make him Sanguine cheeked too.  Cam. 
Nay good Hipolito.  Imp. 
Fie, fie, fie, fie, fie, though I hate his company, I would not have my house to abuse his countenance: no, no, no, be not so Contagious, I will send him hence with a flea in's ear.  Hip. 
Do, or I'll turn him into a flea, and make him skip under some of your petticoats.  Imp. 
signor Lazarillo:  Laz. 
Most sweet face you need not hang out your silken tongue as a Flag of truce: for I will drop at your feet, ere I draw blood in your Chamber; yet I shall hardly drink up this wrong, for your sake I will wipe it out for this time: I would deal with you in secret (so you had a void room) about most deep and serious matters.  Imp. 
I'll send these hence; fie, fie, fie, I am so choked still with this man of Gingerbread, and yet I can never be rid of him, but hark Hipolito.  Hip. 
Good draw the Curtains, put out Candles, and girls to bed.  Laz. 
Venus, give me suck, from thine own most white and tender dugs, that I may batten in love: dear instrument of many men's delight, are all these women?  Imp. 
No no, no, they are half men and half women.  Laz. 
You apprehend too fast, I mean by women, wives: for wives are no maids, nor are maids women: If those unbearded Gallants keep the doors of their Wedlock, those Ladies spend their hours of pastime but ill, (o most rich armful of beauty) but if you can bring all those females into one ring, into one private place: I will read a Lecture of discipline, to their most great and honourable ears; wherein I will teach them, so to carry their white bodies, either before their husbands or before their Lovers, that they shall never fear to have milk thrown in their faces; nor I, wine in mine, when I come to sit upon them in courtesy.  Imp. 
That were excellent, I'll have them all here at your pleasure.  Laz. 
I will show them all the tricks and garbs of Spanish Dames, I will study for apt and legant phrase to tickle them with; and when my devise is ready I will come: will you inspire into your most divine spirits, the most divine soul of Tobacco?  Im. 
No, no, no; fie, fie, fie, I should be choked up if your pipe should kiss my underlip.  La. 
Hence forth, most deep stamp of Feminine perfection, my Pipe shall not be drawn before you, but in secret.  Enter Hippolito and the rest of the Maskers, as before dancing: Hippolito takes Imperia, Exeunt. Laz. 
Lament my case since thou canst not provoke,  
Her nose to smell, love fill thine own with smoke.  Exit. Enter Hippolito and Frisco. Fris. 
The wooden picture you sent her, hath set her on fire; and she desires you as you pity the case of a poor desperate Gentlewoman, to serve that Monsieur in at Supper to her.  Enter Camillo. Hip. 
The Frenchman, Saint Dennis, let her carve him up: Stay, here's Camillo; now my fool in fashion, my sage Idiot, up with this brims, down with this devil (Melancholy) are you decayed concupiscentious Inamorato? news, news, Imperia dotes on Fontinell.  Cam. 
What comfort speaks her love to my sick heart?  Hip. 
Mary this Sir; here's a Yellowhammer flew to me with thy water, and I cast it, and find, that his Mistress being given to this new falling-sickness, will cure thee: the Frenchman you see has a soft marmalade heart, and shall no sooner feel Imperia's liquorish desire to lick at him, but straight he'll stick the brooch of her longing in it: then Sir, may you sir, come upon my Sister sir, with a fresh charge Sir; Sa, sa, sa, sa, once giving back, and thrice coming forward, she yield and the town of Breast is taken.  Cam. 
This hath some taste of hope, is that the Mercury  
Who brings you notice of his Mistress love?  Fris. 
I may be her Mercury, for my running of errands; but troth is Sir, I am Cerberus, for I am porter to hell.  Cam 
Then Cerberus play thy part, here, search that hell,  
There find, & bring forth that false Fontinell,  Exit Frisco. 
If I can win his strayed thoughts to retire,  
From her encountered eyes, whom I have singled  
In Hymen's holy Battle: he shall pass  
From hence to France, in company and guard  
Of mine own heart: he comes Hipolito.  Enter Fontinell talking with Frisco. 
Still looks he like a Lover, poor Gentleman,  
Love is the minds strong physic, and the pill,  
That leaves the heart sick, and o'erturns the will.  Font. 
O happy persecution I embrace thee  
With an unfettered soul; so sweet a thing  
Is it to sigh upon the rack of love,  
Where each calamity is groaning: witness  
Of the poor martyrs faith: I never heard  
Of any true affection, but 'twas nipped  
With care; that (like the caterpillar) eats  
The leaves off the springs sweetest book, (the Rose)  
„ Love bred on earth, is often nursed in hell.  
„ By rote it reads woe, ere it learn to spell.  Cam. 
God morrow French Lord.  Hip. 
bonjour Monsieur.  Font. 
To your secure and more than happy self,  
I tender thanks, for you have honoured me;  
You are my jailor, and have penned me up,  
lest the poor fly (your prisoner) should alight  
Upon your Mistress lip; and thence derive,  
The dimpled print of an infective touch.  
Thou secure tyrant, (yet unhappy lover)  
Couldst thou chain Mountains to my captive feet,  
Yet Violetta's heart and mine should meet.  Hip. 
Hark swaggerer, there's a little dapple-coloured rascal: ho a Bona Roba; her name's Imperia, a Gentlewoman by my faith of an ancient house, and has goodly rents, and comings in of her own, and this Ape would fain have thee chained to her in the holy state: Sirrah, she's fallen in love with thy picture, yes faith too her, woo her, and win her: leave my Sister, & thy ransom's paid; all's paid Gentlemen; byth' Lord Imperia is as good a girl as any is in Venice.  Cam. 
Upon mine honour Fontinell 'tis true,  
The Lady dotes on thy perfections,  
Therefore resign my Violetta's heart,  
To me the Lord of it: and I will send thee—  Fon. 
O whether, to damnation? wilt thou not?  
Thinkst thou the purity of my true soul  
Can taste your leprous counsel? no, I defy you,  
Incestancie dwell on his riveled brow,  
That weds for dirt; or on thin-forced heart,  
That lags in Rearward of his Father's charge,  
When to some negro-gelderling he's clogged,  
By the Injunction of a golden fee:  
When I call back my vows to Violetta,  
May I then slip into an obscure grave,  
Whose mould (unpressed with stony monument)  
Dwelling in open air, may drink the tears  
Of the inconstant clouds to rot me soon,  
Out of my private linen Sepulchre.  Cam. 
ay, is this your settled resolution?  Font. 
By my loves best divinity it is.  Cam. 
Then bear him to his prison back again,  
This tune must alter ere thy lodging mend,  
To death fond Frenchman, thy slight love doth tend.  Fon. 
Then constant heart, thy fate with joy pursue,  
Draw wonder to thy death expiring true.  Exit. Hip. 
After him Frisco, enforce thy Mistress's passion, thou shalt have access to him, to bring him love-tokens: if they prevail not, yet thou shalt still be in presence, be't but to spite him: In honest Frisco.  Fris. 
I'll vex him to the heart Sir, fear not me,  
Yet here's a trick perchance may set him free.  Exit. Hip. 
Come, wilt thou go laugh, and lie down? now sure there be some rebels in thy belly, for thine eyes do nothing but watch and ward, thou'st not slept these three nights.  Cam. 
Alas how can I? he that truly loves  
Burns out the day in idle fantasies,  
And when the Lamb bleating, doth bid Goodnight  
Unto the closing day; then tears begin  
To keep quick time, unto the Owl, whose voice  
shrieks, like the Bellman in the lovers ears:  
loves eye the jewel of sleep, oh seldom wears!  
The early Lark is wakened from her bed,  
Being only by loves plaints disquieted,  
And singing in the morning's ear, she weeps  
(Being deep in love) at lovers broken sleeps:  
But say a golden slumber chance to tie,  
With silken strings the cover of loves eye:  
Then dreams (magician-like) mocking present  
Pleasures, whose fading, leaves more discontent.  
Have you these golden charms?  Enter Musicians. Omnes. 
We have my Lord.  Cam. 
Bestow them sweetly; think a lovers heart  
Dwells in each instrument and let it melt  
In weeping strains: yonder direct your faces,  
That the soft summons of a frightless parley,  
May creep into the Casement: So, begin;  
Music speak movingly, assume my part,  
For thou must now plead to a stony heart.  

Song.  
Pity, pity, pity,  
Pity, pity, pity,  
That word begins that ends a true-Love Ditty,  
Your blessed eyes (like a pair of Suns,)  
Shine in the sphere of smiling,  
Your pretty lips (like a pair of Doves)  
Are kisses still compiling.  
Mercy hangs upon your brow, like a precious jewel,  
O let not then,  
(Most lovely maid, best to be loved of men:)  
Marble, lie upon your heart, that will make you cruel:  
Pity, pity, pity,  
Pity, pity, pity:  
That word begins that ends a true-Love ditty.   Violetta above. Viol. 
Who owes this salutation?  Cam. 
Thy Camillo.  Viol. 
Is not your shadow there too, my sweet bother?  Hip. 
Here sweet Sister.  Viol. 
I dreamed so: o I am much bound to you,  
For you my Lord have used my love with honour.  Cam. 
Ever with honour.  Viol. 
Indeed, indeed you have.  Hip. 
'Slight, she means her French garsoon.  Uiol. 
The same, good night, trust me 'tis somewhat late,  
And this bleak wind nips dead all idle prate.  
I must to bed, good night.  Cam. 
The God of rest,  
Play music to thine eyes, whilst on my breast  
The furies sit and beat, and keep care waking.  Hip. 
You will not leave my friend in this poor taking:  Viol. 
Yes by the velvet brow of darkness.  Hip. 
You scurvy tit: 'sfoot, scurvy anything,  
Do you hear Susanna: you, punk, if I geld not your musk-cat; I'll do't by jesu; let's go Camillo.  Uiol. 
Nay but pure swaggerer, ruffian; do you think  
To fright me with your bugbear threats? go by;  
Hark tosspot in your ear, the frenchman's mine,  
And by these hands I'll have him.  Hip. 
Rareroage! fine!  Uiol. 
He is my prisoner, (by a deed of gift)  
Therefore Camillo you have wronged me much,  
To wrong my prisoner: by my troth I love him,  
The rather for the baseness he endures,  
For my unworthy self: I'll tell you what;  
Release him, let him plead your love for you;  
I love a life to hear a man speak French,  
Of his complexion: I would undergo  
The instruction of that language rather far,  
Than be two weeks unmarried (by my life)  
Because I'll speak true French, I'll be his wife.  Cam. 
O scorn to my chaste love, burst heart.  Hip. 
'swounds hold.  Cam. 
Come (gentle friends) tie your most solemn tunes,  
By silver strings unto a leaden pace;  
False fair, enjoy thy base-beloved: adieu,  
he's far less noble, and shall prove less true.  Exeunt. Enter Truepenny above with a letter. True. 
Lady Imperia (the courtesans zany) hath brought you this letter, from the poor Gentleman in the deep dungeon, but would not stay till he had an answer.  Viol. 
Her groom employed by Fontinell? O strange!  
I wonder how he got access to him:  
I'll read, and (reading) my poor heart shall ache,  
„ true-Love is jealous, fears the best love shake.  
Meet me at the end of the old Chapel, next Saint Lorenzo's monastery, furnish your company with a Friar, that there he may consummate our holy vows, till midnight: farewell.  Thine Fontinell. 
Hath he got opportunity to scape?  
O happy period of our separation,  
Blessed night, wrap Cinthia in a sable sheet:  
That fearful lovers may securely meet.  Exeunt. Enter Frisco in Fontinell's apparel, Fontinell making himself ready in Frisco's: they enter suddenly and in fear. Fris. 
Play you my part bravely; you must look like a slave, and you shall see, I'll counterfeit the Frenchman most knavishly; my Mistress (for your sake) charged me on her blessing to fall to these shifts; I left her at Cards, she'll sit up till you come, because she'll have you play a game at Noddy; you'll to her presently:  Font. 
I will upon mine honour.  Fris. 
I think she does not greatly care whether you fall to her upon your honour, or no: So, all's fit, tell my Lady that I go in a suit of Durance for her sake; that's your way, and this Pithole's mine; if I can scape hence, why so; if not, he that's hanged. is nearer to heaven by half a score steps then he that dies in a bed, and so adieu monsieur.  Exit. Fon. 
Farewell dear trusty slave; shall I profane  
This Temple with an Idol of strange love?  
When I do so let me dissolve in fire;  
Yet one day will I see this Dame, whose heart  
Talks off my misery, I'll not be so rude,  
To pay her kindness with ingratitude.  Enter Violetta and a Friar apace. Uiol. 
My dearest Fontinell.  Font. 
My Violetta, oh God!  Viol. 
Oh God!  Font. 
Where is this reverend Friar?  friar. 
Here, over joyed, young man.  Vio. 
How didst thou scape?  
How came Imperia's man?  Font. 
No more of that.  Viol. 
When did Imperia?—  Font. 
Questions now are thieves,  
And lies in Ambush to surprise our joys,  
My most happy stars shine still, shine on,  
Away, come, love beset, had need be gone.  Exit. Enter Curuetta and Simperina. Cur. 
I must not stay thou sayst:  Sim. 
God's me, away.  Cur. 
Buss, buss, again; here's sixpence; buss again,  
Farewell, I must not stay then.  Sim. 
Foh.  Cur. 
Farewell;  
At ten o'clock thou sayst, and ring a Bell  
Which thou wilt hang out at this window.  Sim. 
Lord I she'll hear this fiddling.  Cur. 
No, close on my word:  
Farewell just ten o'clock, I shall come in,  
Remember to let down the Cord; just ten  
Thou'lt open mouse? pray God thou dost, Amen, Amen, Amen,  
I am an old Courtier wench but I can spy  
A young Duck: close mum; ten; close, 'tis not I.  Exit Curuetto. Sim. 
Mistress, sweet Ladies.  Enter Imperia and Ladies, with table books. Imp. 
Is his old rotten Aquavitae bottle stopped up? is he gone? fie, fie, fie, fie, he so smells of Ale and Onions, and Rosa-solis, fie; bolt the door, stop the keyhole lest his breath peep in, burn some Perfume: I do not love to handle these dried stockfishes that ask so much tawing, fie, fie, fie.  1 Lady. 
Nor I, trust me Lady, fie!  Imp. 
No, no no no, stools and cushions, low stools, low stools, sit, sit, sit, round Ladies round; So, so, so, so let, our sweet beauties be spread to the full and most moving advantage, for we are fallen into his hands, who they say, has an A B C, for the sticking in of the least white pin in any part of the body.  2 Lady. 
madam Imperia, what stuff is he like to draw out before us?  Imp. 
Nay, nay, nay, 'tis Greek to me, 'tis Greek to me, I never had remnant of his Spanish leather learning: here he comes, your ears may now fit themselves out of the whole piece.  Enter Lazarino. Laz. 
I do first deliver to your most Skreete, & long-fingered hands, this head (or top of all the members) bare and uncombed, to show how deeply I stand in reverence of your naked Female beauties. Bright and unclipped Angels, if I were to make a discovery of any newfound land (as Virginia or so) to Ladies & Courtiers, my speech should hoist up Sails, fit to bear up such lofty and well rigged vessels: but because I am to deal only with the civil city Matron; I will not lay upon your blushing and delicate cheek, any other colours, than such as will give luster to your chitty faces, in & to that purpose, our Thesis is taken out of that most plentiful, but most precious book: Entitled, the Economical cornucopia.  1 Lady. 
The what?  Laz. 
The Economical Cornucopia; thus,  
Wise is that wife, who (with apt wit) complains,  
That she's kept under, yet rules all the rains.  2 Lady. 
Oh again sweet signor? Complains.  
That she's kept under? what follows?  La. 
Yet rules all the rains:  
Wife is that wife, who (with apt wit) complains,  
That she's kept under, yet rules all the rains.  
Most pure and refined plants of nature, I will not (as this Distinction enticeth) take up the parts as they lie here in order: As first, to touch your wisdom, it were folly: next, your complaining, 'tis too common: thirdly, your keeping under, 'tis above my capacity: and lastly, the rains in your own hands, that is the A-per-se of all, the very cream of all, and therefore how to skim off that only, only listen: a wife wise, no matter: apt wit; no matter: complaining, no matter: kept under, no great matter: but to rule the roast, is the matter.  4 Lady. 
That ruling of the roast goes with me.  4 Lady. 
And me.  5 Lady. 
And me, I'll have a cut of that roast.  Laz. 
Since then, a woman's only desire is to have the rains in her own white hand; your chief practice (the very same day that you are wived) must be to get hold of these rains, & being fully gotten, or wound about; yet to complain (with apt wit) as though you had them not.  Imp. 
How shall we know signor, when we have them all or not?  Laz. 
I will furnish your capable understandings, out of my poor Spanish store, with the chief implements, and their appurtenances: Observe, It shall be your first and finest praise, to sing the note of every new fashion, at first sight; and (if you can) to stretch that note above Eela.  Omnes. 
Good.  Laz. 
The more you pinch your Servants bellies for this, the smother will the fashion sit on your back: But if your good man, like not this Music, (as being too full of crotchets) your only way is, to learn to play upon the Virginals, and so nail his ears to your sweet humours: if this be out of time too, yet your labour will quit the cost; for by this means your secret friend may have free and open access to you, under the colour of pricking you lessons: Now, because you may tie your husband's love in most sweet knots, you shall never give over labouring, till out of his purse you have digged a garden: and that garden must stand a pretty distance from the city; for by repairing thither, much good fruit may be grafted.  1 Lady. 
Mark that.  Laz. 
Then (in the afternoon) when you address your sweet perfumed body, to walk to this garden, there to gather a nosegay, sops-in-wine, cowslips, columbines, hearts-ease; etc. The first principle to learn is, that you stick black patches for the rheum on your delicate blue Temples, though there be no room for the rheum; black patches are comely in most women, & being well fastened, draw men's eyes to shoot glances at you: Next, your ruff must stand in print, and for that purpose, get poking sticks with fair and long handles, lest they scorch your lily sweating hands: than your Hat with a little brim (if you have a little face) if otherwise, otherwise. Besides, you must play the wag with your wanton Fan; have your Dog (called Pearl or Min, or why ask you? or any other pretty name) dance along by you: your Embroidered Muff before you, on your ravishing hands; but take heed who thrusts his fingers into your Fur.  2 Lady. 
we'll watch for that.  Laz. 
Once a quarter take state upon you, and be chick; being chick, (thus politicly) lie at your garden; your lip-sworn servant may there visit you as a Physician: where otherwise, (if you languish at home) be sure your husband will look to your water: This thickness may be increased, with giving out that you breed young bones; and to stick flesh upon those bones, it shall not be amiss, if you long for Peascods, at ten groats the Cod; and for Cherries at a crown the Cherry.  1 Lady. 
O dear Tutor!  2 Lady. 
Interrupt him not.  Laz. 
If while this pleasing fit of thickness hold you, you be invited forth to supper, whimper and seem unwilling to go; but if your good man (bestowing the sweet duck, & kiss upon your moist lip) entreat, go: marry my counsel is, you eat little at Table, because it may be said of you, you are no cormorant; yet at your coming home you may counterfeit a qualm, & so devour a posset: your husband need not have his nose in that posset: no, trust your Chambermaid only in this; and scarcely her, for you cannot be too careful into whose hands you commit your secrets.  Omnes. 
That's certain.  Laz. 
If you have Daughters capable, marry them by no means to Chittizens, but choose for them some smooth chinned curled-headed Gentleman; for Gentlemen will lift up your daughters to their own content: and to make these curled-pated Gallants come off the more roundly, make your husband go to the Herald for Arms; and let it be your daily care, that he have a fair and comely Crest; yea, go all the ways yourselves you can to be made Ladies, especially if (without danger to his person, or for love or money) you can procure your husband to be dubbed: The Goddess of memory lock up these jewels which I have bestowed upon you, in your sweet brains: let these be the rules to square out your life by, though you near go level, but tread you shoes awry: If you can get these rains into your Lily hand you shall need no Coaches, but may drive your husbands: put it down, and according to that wise saying of you, be Saints in the Church, Angels in the street, devils in the Kitchen, and Apes in your bed; upon which, leaving you tumbling; pardon me that thus abruptly and openly I take you all up.  1 La. 
You have got so far into our books signor, that you cannot scape without a pardon here, if you take us up never so snappishly.  Imp. 
Music there to close our Stomachs: how do you like him Madonna?  2 Lad. 
O trust me, I like him most profoundly: why, he's able to put down twenty such as I am.  3 Lady. 
Let them build upon that; nay more, we'll henceforth never go to a cunning woman, since men can teach us our lerrie.  4 La. 
We are all fools to him, and our husbands (if we can hold these rains fast) shall be fools to us.  2 La. 
If we can keep but this Bias wenches, our good men may perchance once in a month, get a foregame of us: but if they win a rubbers, let them throw their caps at it.  Imp. 
No, no, no, dear features, hold their noses to the grindstone and they're gone; thanks worthy signor: fie, fie, fie, you stand bare too long: come bright Mirrors, will you withdraw into a gallery, and taste a slight banquet?  1 Lad. 
we shall cloy ourselves with sweets, my sweet Madonna.  2 Lad. 
Troth I will not Madonna Imperia.  Imp. 
No, no, no, fie, fie, fie, signor Lazarillo, either be you our Foreman, or else put in these Ladies (at your discretion) unto the Gallery and cut of this striving.  La. 
It shall be my Office, my Fees being (as they pass) to take toll of their Alabaster hands.  Exeunt. 
Imperia stays. Admired creature, I summon you to a parley, you remember this is the night?  Imp. 
So, so, so, I do remember; here is a key, that is your Chamber; lights Simperina: about twelve o'clock you shall take my beauty prisoner; fie, fie, fie, how I blush? at 12. o'clock.  Laz. 
Rich Argosy of all golden pleasure.  Im. 
No, no, no, put up, put up your joys till anon, I will come by my virginity; but I must tell you one thing, that all my chambers are many nights haunted; with what sprites none can see: but sometimes we hear Birds singing; sometimes Music playing; sometimes voices laughing, but stir not you, nor be frighted at any thing.  La. 
By Hercules, if any spirits rise, I will conjure them in their own Circles with Toledo. (ready?  Imp. 
So, so, so, lights for his chamber: is the Trap-door  Simp. 
'tis set sure.  Imp. 
So, so, so, I will be rid of this broiled red Sprat that stinks so in my stomach, fie; I hate him worse, than to have a Tailor come a-wooing to me: God's me, the sweet Ladies, the banquet, I forget: fie, fie, fie, follow dear signor.  Exit. 
The trap door Simperina.  Sim. 
signor come away.  Laz. 
Cupid I kiss the nock of thy sweet bow,  
A woman makes me yield, Mars could not so.  Enter Curuetto. Cur. 
just ten? 'tis ten just, that's the fixed hour,  
For payment of my loves due fees; that broke:  
I forfeit a huge sum of joys: ho love,  
I'll keep time just to a minute, ay,  
A sweet guide's loss, is a deep penalty.  
A night's so rich a venture to taste wrack,  
Would make a Lover bankrupt, break his back:  
no, if to sit up late, early to rise,  
Or, if this Goldfinch, that with sweet notes flies,  
And wakes the dull eye even of a puritan;  
Can work, than wenches curvetto is the man;  
I am not young, yet have I youthful tricks,  
Which peering day must not see; no, close, close:  
Old Courtier, perilous fellow; I can lie  
Hug in your bosom, close; yet none shall spy.  
Stay, here's the door, the window; hah, this, this,  
Cord? umh? dear Cord, thy blessed knot I kiss:  
None peeps I hope, night clap thy velvet hand  
Upon all eyes, if now my friend thou stand:  
I'll hang a jewel at thine ear sweet night,  
And here it is, lantern and candlelight.  
A peal, a lusty peal, set, ring loves knell,  
I'll sweat, but thus I'll bear away the bell.  Simperina above Sim 
signor, who's there, signor Curvetto?  Cur. 
umh! drowned? Noah's flood? ducked over head & ears?  
O sconce! & o sconce! an old soaker, oh  
I sweat now till I drop, what villains; oh?  
Punks, punkateeroes, nags, hags, I will ban,  
I have catched my bane.  Sim. 
Who's there?  Cur. 
A Waterman.  Sim. 
Who rings that scolding peal? (by th'ounce  Cu 
I am wringing wet, I am washed; foh, here's Rose-water sold  
This sconce shall batter down those windows. Bounce:  Sim. 
What do you mean? why do you beat our doors?  
What do you take us for?  Cur. 
You're all damned whores.  Sim. 
signor Curvetto?  Cur. 
signor coxcomb, no;  Sym. 
What makes you be so hot?  Cur. 
You lie, I am cool,  
I am an old Courtier, but stinking fool, foh!  Sym. 
God's my life what have you done? you are in a sweet pickle if you pulled at this rope:  Cur. 
Hang thyself in't, and I'll pull once again.  Sim. 
Mary Muff, will you up and ride, you're mine elder: by my pure Maidenhead here's a jest: why this was a waterwork to drown a Rat that uses to creep in at this window.  Cur. 
Fire on your waterworks, catch a drowned Rat:  
That's me, I have it godamercy head,  
Rat? me; I smell a rat, I strike it dead.  Sim. 
You smell a sodden sheep shed; a Rat? I a Rat, and you will not believe me mary foh; I have been believed of your betters, marry snick up.  Cur. 
Simp, nay sweet Simp, open again, why Simperina?  Sim. 
Go from my window go, go from, etc. away, go by old jeronimo; nay and you shrink i'th' wetting, walk, walk, walk.  Cur. 
I cry thee mercy, if the bowl were set,  
To drown a Rat; I shrink not am not wet.  Sim. 
A Rat by this hemp, and you could ha' smelled; hark you, here's the bell, ting, ting, ting; would the clapper were in my belly, if I am not mad at your foppery; I could scratch, fie, fie, fie, fie, fie, (as my Mistress says) but go, high you home; shift you, come back presently; here you shall find a ladder of cords, climb up, I'll receive you, my Mistress lies alone, she's yours, away.  Cur. 
O Simp!  Sim. 
Nay scud, you know what you promised me: I shall have simple yawling for this, be gone and Mum.  Clap. Cur. 
Thanks, mum dear girl; I am gone, 'twas for a Rat,  
A Rat upon my life; thou shalt have gifts,  
I love thee though thou puts me to my shifts:  
I know I could be overreached by none,  
A Paulons head, lie close, lie close, I am gone.  Exit. Music suddenly plays, and Birds sing: Enter Lazarillo bare headed in his shirt: a pair of Pantaples on, a Rapier in his hand and a Tobacco pipe: he seems amazed, and walks so up and down. A song presently within. La. 
Saint jaques and the seven deadly sins (that is, the seven wise Masters of the world) pardon me for this night, I will kill the devil.  Witbin. 
Ha ha ha.  La. 
Thou Prince of Blackamoors, thou shalt have small cause to laugh, if I run thee through: this chamber is haunted, would I had not been brought a-bed in it, or else were well delivered: for my heart tells me 'tis no good luck, to have any thing to do with the devil, he's a paltry merchant.  

A Song within.  
midnight's bell goes ting, ting, ting, ting, ting,  
Than dogs do howl, and not a bird does sing:  
But the Nightingale, and she cries twit, twit, twit, twit:  
Owls then on every bow do sit.  
ravens Croak on chimneys tops,  
The Cricket in the Chamber hops:  
And the cat's cry mew, mew, mew,  
The nibbling Mouse is not asleep  
But he goes, peep, peep, peep, peep, peep,  
And the cat's cries, mew, mew mew,  
And still the cat's cries mew, mew, mew.   Laz. 
I shall be moused by puss-cats: but I had rather die a dog's death; they have nine lives (a piece like a woman) and they will make it up ten lives, if they and I fall a scratching: Bright Helena of this house, would thy Troy were a fire, for I am a cold; or else would I had the Greeks wooden curtal, to ride away: most ambrosian-lipped creature, come away quickly, for this night's lodging lies cold at my heart.  The Spanish Pavin. 
The Spanish Pavin: I thought the devil could not understand Spanish: but since thou art my countryman, o thou tawny Satin, I will dance after thy pipe.  
He dances the Spanish Pavin.  Laz. 
Ho sweet devil, ho thou wilt make any man weary of thee, though he deal with thee in his shirt,  
Sweet beauty; she'll not come, I'll fall to sleep,  
And dream of her, love-dreams are near too deep.  Falls down, Frisco above laughing. Fris. 
Ha, ha, ha.  Laz. 
Ho, ho, Frisco, Madonna, I am in hell, but here is no fire; Hell fire is all put out; what ho? so ho ho? I shall be drowned; I beseech thee, dear Frisco, raise Blurt the Constable, or some scavenger, to come and make clean these kennels of hell, for they stink so, that I shall cast away my precious self.  Imp. 
Is he down Frisco?  Fris. 
he's down, he cries out he's in hell, it's heaven to me to have him cry so.  Imp. 
Fie, fie, fie, let him lie, and get all to bed.  Exit. Fris. 
Not all, I have fatting knavery in hand,  
He cries he's damned in hell; the next shall cry,  
he's climbing up to heaven, and here's the gin:  
One woodcock stain, I'll have his brother in.  Exit. Enter Curuetto. Cur. 
Brisk as a capering tailor; I was washed,  
But did they shave me? no, I am too wise;  
Lie close i'th' bosom of their knaveries,  
I am an old hoary Courtier, and strike dead:  
I hit my marks: ware, ware, a perilous head.  
Cast, I must find a ladder made of ropes,  Enter Blurt and watch. 
Ladder and rope, what follow? hanging;  
But where? ah ha, there does the riddle lie.  
I have scaped drowning; but, but, but, I hope,  
I shall not scape the ladder and the rope.  Wood. 
Yonder's a light Master Constable.  Blu. 
Peace woodcock the sconce approaches.  Cur. 
Whew:  Blu. 
ay, whistling? Slubber jog the watch, & give the lantern a flap.  Cur. 
Whew, Symp, Symperina?  Fris. 
Who's there?  Cur. 
Who's there?  Fris. 
signor Curvetto here's the ladder, I watch to do you a good turn, I am Frisco, is not Blurt abroad and his Billmen?  Cur. 
No matter if they be, I hear none nigh:  
I will snug close; out goes my candle's eye,  
My sconce takes this in snuff, all's one I care not.  Fris. 
Why when?  Cur. 
I come, close, close, hold rope and spare not.  Slu. 
Now the candle's out.  Blu. 
Peace.  Cur. 
Frisco, light, light, my foot is slipped, call help:  Frisco. 
Help, help, help, thieves, thieves, help, thieves, etc.  Blu. 
thieves, where? follow close: Slubber the lantern, hold; I charge you in the Duke's name stand: Sirrah, you're like to hang for this: down with him.  They take him down. Fris. 
Master Blurt, Master Constable, here's his ladder, he comes to rob my mistress, I have been scared out of my wits, above seven times by him, and it's forty to one, if ever they come in again, I lay felony to his charge.  Cur. 
Felony? you coney-catching slave.  Fris. 
coney-catching will bear an action; I'll coney-catch you for this; if I can find our key I will aid you: Master Blurt, if not, look to him, as you will answer it upon your deathbed.  Blu. 
What are you?  Cur. 
A Venetian Gentleman.  Blu. 
Woodcock, how dost thou Woodcock?  Wod. 
Thank your worship.  Blur. 
Woodcock, you are of our side now, and therefore your acquaintance cannot serve, and you were a Gentleman of velvet I would commit you.  Cur. 
Why, what are you sir?  Blu. 
What am I sir? do not you know this staff? I am sir the Duke's own Image; at this time the Duke's tongue (for fault of a better) lies in my mouth; I am Constable sir.  Cur. 
Constable, and commit me? marry Blurt Master Constable.  Blu. 
Away with him.  Omnes. 
It's folly to strive,  He strives. Blurt. 
I say away with him, I'll Blurt you, I'll teach you to stand covered to Authority; your hoary head shall be knocked when this staff is in place.  Cur. 
ay but Master Constable—  Blur. 
No, pardon me, you abuse the Duke, in me that am his Cipher, I say away with him; Gulch, away with him; Woodcock, keep you with me, I will be known for more than Blurt.  Exeunt Enter Lazarillo. Laz. 
Thou honest fellow (the man in the Moon) I beseech thee set fire on thy bush of thorns, to light and warm me, for I am dung wet: I fell like Lucifer I think into hell, and am crawled out, but in worse pickle than my lean Pilchard: here about is the Hothouse of my love, ho, ho? why ho there?  Fris. 
Who's that? what Devil stands hohing at my door so late?  Laz. 
I beseech thee Frisco take in Lazarillo's ghost.  Fris. 
Lazarillo's ghost? haunt me not I charge thee, I know thee not, I am in a dream of a dry-summer, therefore appear not to me.  La. 
Is not this the mansion of the cherry-lipped Madonna Imperia?  Fris. 
Yes, how then? you fly-blown rascal, what art thou?  La. 
Lazarilla de Tormes: sweet blood, I have a poor Spanish suit, depending in your house; let me enter most precious Frisco, the Mistress of this mansion is my beautiful hostess.  Fris. 
How? you Turpentine pill, my wife your Hostess? away you Spanish vermin.  La. 
I beseech thee (most pitiful Frisco) allow my lamentation.  Fris. 
And you lament here, I'll stone you with Brickbats, I am asleep.  Laz. 
My Slop and Mandilion lie at thy mercy (fine Frisco) I beseech thee let not my case be thine, I must and will lament.  Fris. 
Must you? I'll wash off your tears; away you hogs-face.  Exit. La. 
Thou hast soused my poor hogsface: O Frisco, thou art a scurvy Doctor, to cast my water no better; it is most rammish Urine, Mars shall not save thee, I will make a brown toast of thy heart, and drink it in a pot of thy strong blood.  Enter Blurt and all his watch. Blu. 
Such fellows must be taken down, stand: what white thing is yonder?  Slub. 
Who goes there? come before the Constable.  La. 
My dear host Blurt:  Blur. 
You have Blurted fair, I am by my Office to examine you, where you have spent these two nights?  La. 
Most big Blurt, I answer thy great Authority, that I have been in hell, and am scratched to death with puss-cats.  Blur. 
Do you run a'th' score at an officer's house, & then run above twelve score off?  La. 
I did not run my sweet-faced Blurt; the Spanish fleet is bringing gold enough to discharge all, from the Indies: lodge me most pitiful billman.  Blu. 
marry and will: I am (in the Duke's name) to charge you with despicious of felony: and Burglary is committed this night, and we are to reprehend any that we think to be faulty; were not you at Madonna freckle-face's house?  La. 
signor sec.  Blu. 
Away with him, clap him up.  La. 
Most thundering Blurt do not clap me,  
Most thundering Blurt do not clap me.  Blu. 
Master Lazarus, I know you are a sore fellow where you take, and therefore I charge you (in the Duke's name) to go without wrestling, though you be in your shirt.  La. 
Commendable Blurt.  Blu. 
The end of my commendations is to commit you.  La. 
I am kin to Don Dego the Spanish Adelantado.  Blu. 
If you he kin to Don Dego (that was smelled out in Paul's) you pack; your Lantedoes nor your Lanteeroes cannot serve your turn: I charge you, let me commit you to the tuition.—  Laz. 
Worshipful Blurt, do not commit me into the hands of dogs.  Omnes. 
Dogs?  Blu. 
Master Lazarus, there's not a dog shall bite you, these are true Billmen, that fight under the common wealths flag.  Laz. 
Blurt—  Blu. 
Blurt me no Blurts, I'll teach all Spaniards how to meddle with whores.  Laz. 
Most cunning Constable, all Spaniards know that already, I have meddled with none.  Blu. 
Your being in your shirt bewrays you.  Laz. 
I beseech thee most honest Blurt, let not my shirt bewray me.  Blu. 
I say away with him: Music, that's in the Courtesans; they are about some ungodly Act, but I'll play a part in't ere morning: away with Lazarus.  Omnes. 
Come Spaniard.  Laz. 
Thy kites and thee, for this shall watch in dirt to feed on carrion.  Blu. 
Hence, ptrooh.  La. 
O base Blurt! O base Blurt! O base Blurt!  Exeunt Enter Camillo, Hippolito, Virgilio, Asorino, Baptista, Bentivoli Doyt and Dandyprat, all weaponed, their Rapiers sheaths in their hands. Camil. 
Gentlemen and Noble Italians, whom I love best; who know best what wrongs I have stood under: being lay de on by him, who is to thank me for his life, I did bestow him (as the prize of mine honour) upon my Love, the most fair Violetta: my loves merit was basely sold to him, by the most false Violetta: not content with this Felony, he hath dared to add the sweet theft of Ignoble marriage; she's now, nonce but his, and he (treacherous villain) any ones, but hers; he dotes (my honoured friends) on a painted Courtesan, and in scorn of our Italian laws, our family, our revenge, loathes Violetta's bed, for a harlot's bosom: I conjure you therefore, by all the bonds of Gentility, that as you have solemnly sworn a most sharp; so let the revenge be most sudden.  Uir. 
Be not yourself a bar, to that suddenness, by this protraction.  Omnes. 
Away Gentlemen, away then.  Hip. 
As for that light Hobby-horse my Sister, whose foul name, I will raze out with my Poniard; by the honour of my Family (which her lust hath profaned) I swear (and Gentlemen be in this, my sworn brothers) I swear that as all Venice does admire her beauty, so all the world shall be amazed at her punishment, follow therefore.  Uir. 
Stay, let our resolutions keep together: whether go; we first?  Cam. 
To the Strumpet Imperia's.  Omnes. 
Agreed, what then?  Cam. 
There to find Fontinell; found, to kill him.  Vir. 
And killed, to hang out his reeking body, at his harlot's window.  Cam. 
And by his body, the strumpets.  Hip. 
And between both, my Sisters.  Vir. 
The Tragedy is just: on then, begin.  Cam. 
As you go, every hand pull in a friend, to strengthen us against all opposites: he that has any drop of true Italian blood in him, thus vow (this morning) to shed others, or let out his own; if you consent to this, follow me.  Omnes. 
Via, away, the treacherous Frenchman dies.  Hip. 
At so, Saint Mark my Pistol, thus death flies.  Exeunt. Enter Fontinell and Imperia arm in arm. Imp. 
Ah you little effeminate sweet Chevalier, why dost thou not get a loose Periwig of hair on thy chin, to set thy French face off, by the panting pulse of Venus: thou art welcome a thousand degrees beyond the reach of arithmetic: Good, good, good, your lip is moist & moving; it hath the truest French close, even like Mapew; la, la, la etc.  Font. 
Dear Lady, o life of love, what sweetness dwells  
In loves variety? the soul that plods  
In one harsh book of beauty; but repeats  
The stale and tedious learning, that hath oft  
Faded the senses: when (in reading more)  
We glide in new sweets, and are starved with store,  
Now by the heart of love, my Violet  
Is a foul weed (o pure Italian flower!)  
She, a black Negro, to the white compare,  
Of this unequalled beauty: O most accursed!  
That I have given her leave to challenge me:  
But Lady, poison speaks Italian well,  
And in a loathed kiss, I'll include her hell.  Imp. 
So, so, so do, do, do, come, come, come; will you condemn the mute rushes to be priest to death by your sweet body? down, down, down, here, here, here; lean your head upon the lap of my gown; good, good good: O Saint Mark! Here is a love-mark able to wear more lady's eyes for jewels then— oh! lie still, lie still, I will level a true Venetian kiss over your right shoulder.  Font. 
Shoot home (fair Mistress) and as that kiss flies,  
From lip to lip, wound me with your sharp eyes.  Imp. 
No, no, no, I'll beat this Cherrytree thus, & thus, and thus; and you name wound.  kiss him. Font. 
I will offend so, to be beaten still.  Imp. 
Do, do, do, and if you make any more such lips, when I beat you, by my Virginity you shall buss this rod: Music: I pray thee be not a puritan. Sister to the rest of the Sciences, I knew the time when thou couldst abide handling.  Loud Music. 
Oh, fie, fie, fie, forbear, thou art like a puny-barber (new come to the trade) thou pickest our ears too deep: So, so, so, will my sweet prisoner entertain a poor Italian Song?  Font. 
O most willingly my dear Madonna.  Imp. 
I care not if I persuade my bad voice to wrestle with this Music and catch a strain; so, so, so, keep time, keep time, keep time.  

Song.  
Love for such a cherry lip,  
Would be glad to pawn his arrows:  
Venus here to take a Sip,  
Would sell her Doves and team of Sparrow.  
But they shall not so,  
heigh nonny nonny no:  
None but I this lip must owe,  
heigh nonny nonny no.   Font. 
Your voice does teach the Music,  Imp. 
No, no, no.  Fon. 
Again, dear Love.  Imp. 
hay nonny nonny no:  
Did jove see this wanton eye,  
Ganymede must wait no longer:  
Phoebe here one night did lie,  
Would change her face and look much younger.  
But they shall not so,  
heigh nonny nonny no:  
None but I this lip must owe,  
heigh nonny nonny no.  Enter Frisco, Trivia, and Simperina running. Omnes. 
O Madonna! Mistress! madonna!  Fris. 
Case up this Gentleman, there's rapping at door; and one in a small voice, says, there's Camilla and Hippolito.  Simp 
And they will come in.  Font. 
Upon their deaths they shall, for they seek mine.  Imp. 
No, no, no, lock the doors fast, Trivia, Simperina, stir.  Both. 
Alas!  Font. 
Come they in shape of Devils, this Angel by:  
I am armed, let them come in; uds foot, they die.  Imp. 
Fie, fie, fie, I will not have thy white body—  Uiol. 
What ho; Madonna?  Knock. Imp. 
O hark! not hurt for the Rialto; go, go, go, put up: by my Virginity you shall put up.  Viol. 
Here are Camilla and Hippolito.  Im. 
Into that little room, you are there as safe as in France, or the Low Countries.  Font. 
Oh God!  Exit. Imp. 
So, so, so, let them enter; Trivia, Simperina, smooth my gown, tread down the rushes, let them enter; do, do, do, no words pretty darling: la, la, la, heigh nonny nonny no.  Enter Frisco and Violetta. Fris. 
Are two men transformed into one woman?  Imp. 
How now? what motion's this?  Uiol. 
By your leave sweet beauty, pardon my excuse, which under the mask of Camillo's and my brother's names, sought entrance into this house: good Sweetness, have you not a property here, improper to your house, my husband?  Imp. 
Hah; your husband here?  Viol. 
Nay be as you seem to be (white Dove) without gall.  Imp. 
Gall? your husband? ha, ha, ha; by my ventoy (yellow Lady) you take your mark improper, no, no, no, my sugar-candy Mistress) your good man is not here I assure you; here? ha hah.  Triu. & Sim. 
Here?  Frisco. 
Much husbands here.  Viol. 
Do not mock me fairest Venetian; come, I know he's here: good faith I do not blame him, for your beauty glides over his error; troth I am right glad that you (my Country woman) have received the pawn of my affections: you cannot be hard-hearted, loving him, nor hate me, for I love him too: since we both love him, let us not leave him, till we have called home the ill husbandry of a sweet straggler; prithee (good wench) use him well.  Imp. 
So, so, so.  Viol. 
If he deserve not to be used well (as I'd be loath he should deserve it) I'll engage myself (dear beauty) to thine honest heart; give me leave to love him, and I'll give him a kind of leave to love thee: I know he here's me; I prithee try mine eyes, if they know him, that have almost drowned themselves in their own salt water, because they cannot see him: In troth I'll not chide him; if I speak words rougher than soft kisses, my penance shall be to see him kiss thee, yet to hold my peace.  Fris. 
And that's torment enough, alas poor wench.  Sim. 
she's an Ass, by the crown of my Maidenhead,  
I'd scratch her eyes out, if my man stood in her Tables.  Uiol. 
Good partner, lodge me in thy private bed,  
Where (in supposed folly) he may end,  
Determined sin; thou smil'st, I know thou wilt;  
What looseness may term dotage (truly read)  
Is love ripe gathered, not soon withered.  Imp. 
Good troth (pretty wedlock) thou mak'st my little eyes smart, with washing themselves in brine; I keep your Cock from his own roost? and mar such a sweet face? and wipe off that dainty red? and make Cupid toll the bell for your lovesick heart no, no, no, if he were jove's own Ingle (Ganymede) fie, fie, fie, I'll none; your Chamber-fellow is within, thou shalt enjoy my bed, and thine own pleasure this night: Simperina conduct in this Lady; Frisco silence, ha, ha, ha; I am sorry to see a woman so tame a fool; come, come, come.  Viol. 
Star of Venetian beauty, thanks; o who  
Can bear this wrong, and be a woman too?  Exeunt. Enter Camillo, Hippolito, Virgilio and others: the Duke & Gentlemen with him: Blurt and his watch on his side, with Torches. Omnes. 
We are dishonoured, give us way, he dies, he dies.  Duk. 
I charge you by your duties to the State,  
And love to gentry, sheath your weapons.  Blu. 
Stand, I charge you put up your naked weapons, and we'll put up our rusty Bills.  Cam. 
Up to the hilts, we will in his French body.  
My Lord, we charge you by the ravished honour  
Of an Italian Lady: by our wrongs,  
By that eternal blot (which if this slave  
Pass free without revenge) like Leprosy,  
Will run over all the body of our fames;  
Give open way to our just wrath, least barred—  Duk. 
Gentlemen—  Cam. 
Breaking the bonds of honour and of duty;  
We cut a passage through you with our swords.  Omnes. 
He that withstands us, run him through.  Blurt. 
I charge you i'th' Duke's name (before his own face) to keep the peace.  Cam. 
Keep thou the peace, that hast a peasant's heart.  Watc. 
Peasant?  Cam. 
Our peace must have her cheeks painted with blood.  Omn. 
Away, through—  Blu. 
Sweet Gentlemen: though you have called the Duke's own ghost Peasant, for I walk for him i'th' night: (Kilderkin & piss-breech hold out) yet hear me, (dear bloods) the Duke here for fault of a better and myself; (cuckoo fly not hence) for fault of a better, are to lay you by the heels, if you go thus with fire and sword; for the Duke is the head, and I Blurt, am the appurtenance: Woodcock keep by my side: Now sir—  Omn. 
A plague upon this Woodcock; kill the Watch.  Duk. 
Now in the name of manhood I conjure ye,  
Appear in your true shapes; Italians,  
You kill your honours more in this revenge,  
Than in his murder: Stay, stand, here's the house.  Blu. 
Right Sir, this is the whore-house, here he calls and sets in his staff.  Duk. 
Sheath all your weapons worthy Gentlemen,  
And by my life I swear, if Fontinell  
Have stained the honour of your sister's bed,  
The fact being death, I'll pay you his proud head,  Cam. 
Arrest him then before our eyes; and see!  
Our fury sleeps.  Duk. 
This honest Officer—  Blur. 
Blurt sir.  Duk. 
Shall fetch him forth: go sirrah, in our name  
Attach the French Lord.  Blur. 
Garlic and the rest follow strongly.  Exeunt watch Duk. 
O what a scandal were it to a State,  
To have a stranger, (and a prisoner)  
Murdered by such a troup? Besides, through Venice  
Are numbers of his Countrymen dispersed;  
Whose rage (meeting with yours) none can prevent  
The mischief of a bloody consequent.  Enter Blurt and watch, holding Fontinell and his weapons. Blu. 
The Duke is within an Inch of your nose, and therefore  
I dare play with it, if you put not up; deliver I advise you.  Font. 
Yield up my weapons and my foe so nigh?  
myself and weapons shall together yield,  
Come any one, come all.  Omnes. 
Kill, kill the Frenchman, kill him.  Duk. 
Be satisfied my noble Countrymen,  
I'll trust you with his life, so you will pawn  
The faiths of Gentlemen, no desperate hand  
Shall rob him of it; otherwise, he runs  
Upon this dangerous point, that dares appose  
His rage 'gainst our authority: French Lord,  
Yield up this strength, our word shall be your Guard.  Font. 
Who defies death, needs none, he's well prepared.  Duk. 
My honest fellow, with a good defence,  
Enter again, fetch out the Courtesan,  
And all that are within.  Blu. 
I'll tickle her; it shall near be said that a brown Bill looked pale.  Exeunt watch. Cam. 
Frenchman, thou art indebted to our Duke.  Font. 
For what?  Cam. 
Thy life, for (but for him) thy soul  
Had long ere this hung trembling in the air,  
Being frighted from thy bosom with our swords.  Font. 
I do not thank your Duke; yet (if you will)  
Turn bloody Executioners: who dies  
For so bright beauty, is a bright Sacrifice.  Duk. 
The beauty you adore so, is profane,  
The breach of wedlock (by our law) is death.  Font. 
Law give me law.  Duk. 
With all severity.  Font. 
In my loves eyes immortal joys do dwell,  
She is my heaven; she from me, I am in hell:  
Therefore your Law, your Law:  Duk. 
Make way, she comes.  Enter Blurt leading Imperia, watch with Violetta masked. Imp. 
Fie, Fie, Fie.  Blu. 
Your fie, fie, fie, nor your foh, foh, foh, cannot serve your turn; on must now bear it off with head and shoulders.  Duk. 
Now fetch Curvetto, and the Spaniard heather,  
Their punishments shall lie under one doom,  
What is she masked?  Blu. 
A punk too; follow fellows, Slubber afore:  Exeunt. Vio. 
She that is masked, is leader of this Mask,  
What's here? bows, Bills and Guns? noble Camillo,  
I am sure you are Lord of all this misrule: I pray  
For whose sake do you make this swaggering fray?  Cam. 
For yours, and for your own we come resolved,  
To murder him, that poisons your chaste bed;  
To take revenge on you, for your false heart:  
And (wanton dame) our wrath here must not sleep,  
Your sin being deep'st, your share shall be most deep.  Viol. 
With pardon of your grace, myself (to you all)  
At your own weapons, thus do answer all.  
For paying away my heart, that was my own,  
Fight not to win that, in good troth 'tis gone,  
For my dear loves abusing my chaste bed,  
And her sweet theft: Alack, you are misled,  
This was a plot of mine, only to try  
Your loves strange temper; sooth I do not lie.  
My Fontinell near dallied in her arms;  
She never bound his heart with amorous charms,  
My Fontinell near loathed my sweet embrace,  
She never drew loves picture by his face;  
When he from her white hand would strive to go,  
She never cried fie, fie, nor no, no, no.  
With prayers and bribes, we hired her (Both) to lie  
Under that roof; for this must my love die?  
Who dare be so hard hearted? look you, we kiss,  
And if he loathe his Violetta; judge by this.  Font. 
O sweetest Violet; I blush—  kiss Viol. 
Good figure,  
Wear still that maiden blush, but still be mine.  Fon. 
I seal myself thine own, with both my hands,  
In this true deed of gift: Gallants, here stands  
This lady's Champion, at his foot I'll lie,  
That dares touch her: who taints my constancy,  
I am no man for him, fight he with her,  
And yield, for she's a noble conqueror.  Duk. 
This combat shall not need; for see, ashamed,  
Of their rash vows, these Gentlemen here break,  
This storm; and do with hands, what tongues should speak,  Omnes. 
All friends?  
All friends.  Hip. 
Punk you may laugh at this,  
here's tricks, but mouth I'll stop you with a kiss.  Enter Curuetto and Lazarillo, led by Blurt and the watch. Blu. 
Room, keep all the scabs back, for here comes Lazarus.  Duk. 
Oh here's our other spirits that walk i'th' night,  
signor Curvetto, by complaint from her,  
And by your writing here, I reach the depth  
Of your offence; they charge your climbing up  
To be to rob her: if so, then by law  
You are to die unless she marry you.  Im. 
ay, Fie fie, fie, I will be burnt to ashes first.  Cur. 
How? die? or mary her? then call me Daw,  
Marry her? she's more common than the law,  
For boys to call me Ox? no, I am not drunk,  
I'll play with her, but (hang her) wed no punk.  
I shall be a hoary Courtier then indeed,  
And have a perilous head, than I were best.  
Lie close, lie close, to hide my forked crest.  
no; fie, fie, fie, hang me before the door,  
Where I was drowned ere I marry with a whore.  Duk. 
Well signor, for we rightly understand,  
From your accusers, how you stood her guest,  
We pardon you and pass it as a jest:  
And for the Spaniard sped so hardly too,  
Discharge him Blurt, signor we pardon you.  Blu. 
Sir, he's not to be discharged, nor so to be shot off, I have put him into a new suit, and have entered into him which an action, he owes me two and thirty shillings.  Laz. 
It is thy honour to have me die in thy debt.  Blu. 
It would be more honour to thee to pay me before thou diest; twenty shillings of this debt came out of his nose.  Laz. 
Bear witness great Duke, he's paid twenty shillings.  Blu. 
signor no, you cannot smoke me so; he took twenty shillings of it in a fume, and the rest I charge him with for his lying.  La. 
My lying (most pitiful Prince) was abominable.  Blu. 
He did lie (for the time) as well as any Knight of the Post did ever lie.  Laz. 
I do here put off thy suit, and appeal; I warn thee to the Court of Conscience, and will pay thee by two pence a week, which I will rake out of the hot embers of Tobacco ashes, and then travail on foot to the Indies for more gold, whose red cheeks I will kiss, and beat thee Blurt if thou watch for me.  Hip. 
There be many of your Countrymen in Ireland signor, travail to them.  La. 
No, I will fall no more into bogs.  Duk. 
Sirrah, his debt, ourself will satisfy.  Blu. 
Blurt (my Lord dare take your word for as much more.  Duk. 
And since this heat of fury is all spent,  
And Tragic shapes meet Comical event:  
Let this bright morning, merrily be crowned  
With dances, banquets, and choice Musics sound.  Exeunt. 
FINIS.