THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 RIVERSIDE 
 

 
 DEAMATISTS OF THE RESTORATION. 
 
 SHACKERLEY MARMION
 
 Printed for Subscribers only. 
 
 450 copies Small Paper. 
 150 „ Large Paper. 
 30 „ Whatman's Paper. 
 3 „ Vellum.
 
 THE DRAMATIC 
 
 WORKS OF SHACKERLEY MARMION. 
 
 m 
 
 WITH PEEFATORY MEMOIR, INTRODUCTIONS, 
 AND NOTES. 
 
 MDCCCLXXV. 
 
 EDINBURGH: WILLIAM PATERSON. 
 LONDON: H. SOTHERAN & CO.
 
 \Zl5
 
 TO 
 THE RIGHT HONOURABLE 
 
 Joint ®ufc(% Hovtr ©olm'trgr, 
 
 OF OTTERY ST. MARY, 
 
 DEVON, 
 
 LORD CHIEF JUSTICE OF THE COURT OF COMMON PLEAS, 
 
 ONE OF A FAMILY EMINENT IN LITERATURE, 
 
 A DISTINGUISHED LAWYER AND AN UPRIGHT JUDGE, 
 
 THIS VOLUME IS INSCRIBED 
 
 BY 
 
 HIS OBLIGED AND FAITHFUL SERVANTS 
 
 THE EDITORS.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Page 
 
 Introductory Notice and Memoir, . . Lx 
 
 Holland's Leaguer, .... 1 
 
 A Fine Companion, .... 99 
 
 The Antiquary, .... 197
 
 PREFATORY NOTICK. 
 
 The name of the author of the following plays, 
 three in number, has been variously spelt and its 
 correct pronunciation consequently rendered doubt- 
 ful. On the title-page of the first play, printed in 
 1632, he is called " Schackerley Marmyon, Master 
 of Arts ;" next year, on the second, he is entered 
 as " Shakerley Marmyon ;" and, thirdly, in 1641, he 
 appears as " Shackerly Mermion, Gent." Although 
 Air Singer, in his elegant reprint of this author's 
 Poem of Cupid and Psyche, which emanated from 
 the Chiswick Press in 1820, inclines to call him 
 Shakerley Marmion, our bias, guided by the pre- 
 ponderance of authority, is in favour of his being 
 designated " Shackerley Marmion." 
 
 Shakerly, however, was an ancient family name in 
 England. Francis, tilth Earl of Shrewsbury, who 
 died on 25th September 1560, according to Collins,* 
 took as his second wife " Grace, daughter of Robert 
 Shakerley of Little Longdon in Derbyshire, Esq., 
 but had no issue by her." Lodge says she was the 
 widow of Robert Shakerley of Holme in Cheshire. 
 
 The name was territorial, and the chief of the 
 family was Sir Jeffrey Shakerly of Shakerly, in 
 the county of Lancaster. His eldest son George 
 married Anne, youngest daughter cf Sir Walter 
 Bagot of Bagot, who died 15th February 1704, in 
 the sixtieth year of his age. 
 
 Shackerley Marmion, it is surmized by Singer, 
 " was descended from the ancient and noble family 
 of the Marmions of Scrivelsby," in whom was 
 
 * Collins' Peerage by Sir E. Brydg-es, Vol. I IT., page 23.
 
 X PREFATORY NOTICE. 
 
 vested the hereditary right to appear at the coro- 
 nation of the Sovereigns of England as Champion. 
 Of Mr Singer's assertion there is no legal evi- 
 dence, hut it is certainly true that the Office of 
 King's Champion was inherited by the Marmions 
 of Scrivelsby. 
 
 The Marmions, Lords of Fontney in Normandy, 
 came over with William the Conqueror, being 
 represented in the person of Robert de Marmion, 
 who obtained a grant of the castle and town of 
 Tamworth, in the county of Warwick, as well as 
 of the manor of Scrivelsby in Lincolnshire, the 
 tenure of the latter being hereditary service as 
 Royal Champion, at coronations ; an office which 
 it is said his ancestors had exercised in relation to 
 the Dukes of Normandy. The family became ex- 
 tinct in the 20th Edward I., Philip de Marmion, 
 the fifth Baron, having died without male issue. 
 His grand-daughter, Mazera, having been married 
 to Alexander de Freville, he, in right of his wife, 
 succeeded to Tamworth Castle. At the coronation 
 of Richard II., Sir Baldwin de Freville, Knight, 
 their grandson, then holding Tamworth Castle, 
 appeared in virtue of the tenure to perform the 
 duty of Royal Champion— that is, to ride, com- 
 pletely armed, into Westminster Hall, upon a 
 barbed steed, and there to challenge the combat 
 with whomsoever should dare to oppose the King's 
 title to the Crown, a service which the Barons de 
 Marmion, his ancestors, had theretofore performed ; 
 but the preference was given to Sir John Dymoke, 
 to whom the Manor of Scrivelsby had descended 
 by an heir female of Sir Thomas Ludlowe, 
 Knt., by Joane, youngest daughter and coheir of the 
 said Philip, the last Baron Marmion of Tamworth. 
 The representative of that family is till the present 
 day Hereditary Champion of England. The Earls
 
 PREFATORY NOTICE. XI 
 
 Ferrers are the descendants, and possess the estates 
 of the family of Freville. 
 
 The form and ceremony observed in introducing 
 the Champion on the day of the Coronation of 
 James II. is given in a History of his Coronation, 
 " illustrated with exquisite Sculptures, and pub- 
 lished by his Majesty's especial command, by 
 Francis Sandford, Lancaster Herald of Arms, 
 anno ] 687 :"— 
 
 " Before the second course was brought in, Sir 
 Charles Dymoke, Knt., the King's Champion — son 
 and heir of Sir Edward Dymoke, Knt., who per- 
 formed the like service at the coronation of his 
 Majesty Charles II. — completely armed in one of 
 his majesty's best suits of white armour, mounted 
 on a goodly white horse, richly caparisoned, en- 
 tered the hall in manner following, viz. :— 
 
 " Two trumpets, with the champion's arms on 
 their banner. 
 
 "The Serjeant trumpet, with his mace on his 
 shoulder ; two Serjeants at arms, with their maces 
 on their shoulders. 
 
 " The champion's two esquires, richly habited ; 
 one on the right hand, with the champion's lance 
 carried upright ; the other on the left hand, with 
 his target, and the champion's arms depicted 
 thereon. 
 
 " York Herald, with a paper in his hand, con- 
 taining the words of the challenge. 
 
 " The champion on horseback, with a gauntlet 
 in his right hand, his helmet on his head, adorned 
 with a great plume of feathers, white, blue, and red. 
 
 On his ritdit " The Earl Marshall in his robes 
 and coronet on horseback, with marshall's staff in 
 his hand." On his left " The Lord High Constable 
 in his robes and coronet on horseback, with the 
 constable's staff."
 
 XII PREFATORY NOTICE. 
 
 " Four pages, richly apparelled, attendants on 
 the Champion. 
 
 " The passage to their Majesties' table being 
 cleared by the Knight Marshall, York herald, with 
 a loud voice, proclaimed the Champion's challenge, 
 viz. : — 
 
 " ' If any person, of what degree soever, high or 
 low, shall deny or gainsay our Sovereign Lord 
 King, &c, &c, &c, to be right heir to the imperial 
 crown of this realm of England, or that he ought 
 not to enjoy the same, here is his Champion, who 
 saith that he lieth, and is a false traitor, being 
 ready in person to combat with him ; and in this 
 quarrel will adventure his life against him on what 
 day soever he shall be appointed.' 
 
 " And then the Champion threw down his 
 gauntlet. The gauntlet having lain some short 
 time, the said York herald took it up, and de- 
 livered it again to the Champion. 
 
 " Then advancing in the same order to the 
 middle of the hall, the said herald made proclama- 
 tion as before, and the Champion threw down his 
 gauntlet ; which, after having lain a little time, 
 was taken up by the herald and delivered to him 
 again. 
 
 " Lastly, advancing to the foot of the steps, York 
 herald, and those who preceded him, going to the 
 top of the steps, made proclamation a third time, 
 at the end whereof the Champion again cast down 
 his gauntlet, which after some time being taken up 
 and redelivered to him by the herald, he made a 
 low obeisance to his Majesty. Whereupon his 
 Majesty's Cup-bearer bringing to the King a gilt 
 bowl of wine, with a cover, his Majesty drank to 
 the Champion, and sent him the said bowl by the 
 cup-bearer, accompanied with his assistants, which 
 the Champion— having put on his gauntlet —
 
 PREFATORY NOTICE. xiu 
 
 received, and retiring a little space, drank thereof. 
 and made his humble reverence to his Majesty ; 
 and, being accompanied as before, departed out of 
 the hall, taking the said bowl and cover with him 
 as his fee." 
 
 In the British Museum is a MS. purporting to 
 be a Mandate of Henry VI. to R. Rolleston, 
 Keeper of his Majesty's Wardrobe, to deliver to 
 P. Dymoke, such furniture, &c, as King's Cham- 
 pion on the day of the Coronation, as his ancestors 
 were accustomed to have.* 
 
 Philip de Marmion was twice married. By his 
 first wife his territorial lordship of Tamworth 
 passed to the representative of his eldest daughter 
 Joane, and latterly vested in the ancient family of 
 Freville ; thereafter by descent it came to the Lords 
 de Ferrers. In this line it is understood that 
 whatever right there may be to the Barony by 
 tenure it is vested in their present representative, 
 but it is very improbable that any attempt will 
 ever again be made to raise any claim to an honour 
 of this description, after the decision against the 
 late Lord Fitzharding, who, in virtue of his pos- 
 session of Berkeley Castle, unsuccessfully asserted 
 a right to sit in the House of Lords. Serious 
 doubts have been entertained of the soundness of 
 the decision given by that very capricious tribunal — 
 if it can be so termed — a Committee of Privileges. 
 To console the claimant for his want of success 
 he was gratified by Government with a modern 
 Barony of Fitzharding — -one of the old titles of 
 the Earls of Berkeley. This has been mentioned 
 to shew that the claim which was brought before 
 the House of Peers at the beginning of this cen- 
 
 * For pedigree and further account of the Marmions of 
 Scrivelsby see Banks' " Dormant and extinct Baronage of 
 England," Vol. I., 4to, Lond. 1807.
 
 XIV PREFATORY NOTICE. 
 
 tury by another descendant of Philip de Marraion 
 to the dignity of a Baron was unfounded, and 
 could not be maintained in virtue of his descent 
 from Joane, Lord Marmion's youngest daughter 
 by his second marriage, whose grand-daughter, 
 marrying Sir John Dymoke, Kt., thereby brought 
 the Manor of Scrivelsby into the family, in which 
 it remains. 
 
 Although the family of Dymoke have, from 
 time to time, exercised the office of King's Cham- 
 pion down to the coronation of Her Majesty, Queen 
 Victoria, they had no claim to the Peerage. 
 Nevertheless Lewis Dymoke, having been ad- 
 vised that he had such claim, in July 1814, for the 
 first time petitioned the Crown for a Writ of 
 Summons, which petition having been referred to 
 the Attorney-General, the case was heard in the 
 usual manner in the House of Lords ; but before 
 any judgment was pronounced the claimant died, 
 and the application has never been renewed. 
 
 " With respect to this claim," says Sir Harris 
 Nicolas, in a Synopsis of the Peerage of England, 
 Vol. ii., Art. Marmion, " it is to be observed, that 
 though the Manor of Scrivelsby was held by the 
 service of performing the office of King's Champion 
 by Kobert de Marmyon, in the reign of William 
 the Conqueror, he was not by seizure thereof a 
 Baron, but by seizure of the Castle and Barony of 
 Tam worth, which he held of the King in capite 
 by Knight's service ; so that, if at this period 
 Baronies by Tenure were admitted, the possessor 
 of the Manor and Lordship of Tamworth — which 
 in the division of his property fell to the share of 
 Joane, his eldest daughter, wife of William Mos- 
 teyn, and, on her death S. P. to Alexander Freville, 
 husband of Joan, daughter and heir of Jialf Crom- 
 well, by Margaret or Mazera, the next sister of the
 
 PREFATORY NOTICE. XV 
 
 said Joan de Mosteyn — would possess the claim to 
 the Barony possessed by Robert de Marmyon above 
 mentioned, he having derived his dignity from 
 that Barony, instead of from the seizure of the 
 Manor of Scrivelsby. Moreover, if Philip Mar- 
 mion, the last Baron, had died seized of a Barony 
 in fee, Lewis Dymoke, the claimant, was not even 
 a co-heir of the said Philip, though he was the 
 descendant of one of his daughters and co-heirs." 
 
 Sir Walter Scott, in a note upon his poem of 
 Marmion, thus remarks as to the name : — " I have 
 not created a new family, but only revived the 
 titles of an old one in an imaginary personage." 
 He goes on to say : — " It was one of the Marmion 
 family, who, in the reign of Edward II., performed 
 that chivalrous feat before the very Castle of Nor- 
 ham which Bishop Percy has woven into his beau- 
 tiful ballad 'The Hermit of Warkworth.'" An 
 account of this feat will thus be found in Leland : — 
 
 " The Scottes came yn to the marches of Eng- 
 land, and destroyed the castles of Werk and 
 Herbotel, and overran much of Northumberland 
 marches. 
 
 " At this tyme, Thomas Gray and his friendes 
 defended Norham from the Scottes. 
 
 " It were a wonderful processe to declare, what 
 mischefes cam by hungre and asseges by the space 
 of xi yeres in Northumberland ; for the Scottes 
 became so proude after they had got Berwick, that 
 they nothing esteemed the Englishmen. 
 
 " About this tyme there was a greate feste made 
 yn Lincolnshir, to which came many gentlemen 
 and ladies ; and amonge them one lady brought a 
 heaulme for a man of were, with a very riche 
 creste of gold, to William Marmion, Knight, with 
 a letter of commandement of her lady, that he 
 should go into the daungerest place in England,
 
 XVI PREFATORY NOTICE. 
 
 and ther to let the heaulme be seene and known 
 as famous. So he went to Norham ; whither within 
 4 days of camming, cam Philip Moubray, guardian 
 of Berwicke, having yn his bande 40 men of amies, 
 the very flour of men of the Scotish Marches. 
 
 " Thomas Gray, capitayne of Norham, seynge 
 this, brought his garison afore the barriers of the 
 castel, behind whom cam William, richly arrayed, 
 as al glittering in gold, and wearing the heaulme, 
 his lady's present. 
 
 " Then said Thomas Gray to Marmion, ' Sir 
 Knight, ye be cum hither to fame your helmet : 
 mount up on yowr horse, and ryde like a valiant 
 man to yowr foes even here at hand, and I forsake 
 God if I rescue not thy body deade or alyve, or I 
 myself wyl dye for it.' 
 
 " Whereupon he toke his cursere, and rode 
 among the throng of ennemyes ; the which layed 
 sore stripes on him, and pulled him at the last 
 out of his sadel to the grounde. 
 
 " Then Thomas Gray, with al the hole garrison, 
 lette prick yn among the Scottes, and so wondid 
 them and their horses, that they were overthrowan ; 
 and Marmion, sore beten, was horsid again, and, 
 with Gray, persewed the Scottes yn chase. There 
 were taken 50 horse of price ; and the women of 
 Norham brought them to the foote men to follow 
 the chase." 
 
 Shackerley Marmion was born in January 1G02 at 
 Aynho, near Brackley, in the county of Northamp- 
 ton, of which place his father was Lord of the Manor, 
 and the possessor of a considerable estate there. 
 He was initiated in letters, under the mastership of 
 Richard Boucher or Butcher, as he was commonly 
 called, at the free school, at Thame, in Oxfordshire ; 
 from thence, when about sixteen years of age, he 
 was sent to Wadham College, of which, in 1617,
 
 PREFATORY NOTICE. XV11 
 
 he became a gentleman commoner, and continued 
 there until he took the degree of M.A. in 1624. 
 Anthony Wood says of him : " he was a goodly 
 proper gentleman, and had once in his possession 
 seven hundred pounds per annum at least, but 
 died — as the curse is incident to all poets — poor 
 and in debt." Oldys, in his MS. notes on Lang- 
 baine, says it was our author's father, and not 
 himself, who squandered away this fortune ; and 
 this seems probable, inasmuch as Aynho was sold, 
 according to Singer, "to Eichard Cartwright of 
 the Inner Temple in 1620," at which time lie was 
 only eighteen years of age, and apparently a care- 
 ful student. 
 
 When left to his own resources he sought to 
 push his fortune, like many other reduced gentle- 
 men, in the Low Countries ; but the contention 
 for promotion was so great, that Marmion waited 
 in vain for preferment, so he threw aside the pike, 
 and returned to England, where he had recourse to 
 his pen as a better means to attain that fame and 
 fortune he as a soldier had expected to win. Sir 
 John Suckling, who had also served in the Low 
 Countries under Gustavus Adolphus, in turn came 
 back to his own country, where, at his own charge, 
 he raised a troop of horse for the King's service, 
 so richly and completely mounted that the cost 
 has been estimated at £12,000. Into this troop 
 Marmion was admitted by his friend Sir John, and 
 shortly thereafter they proceeded towards Scot- 
 land in the memorable but ill-fated expedition 
 against the Scottish Covenanters, 1638-39. Mar- 
 mion, however, reached no farther than i^ork, 
 when, falling sick, he was, by the care of his 
 friend and brother-in-arms, removed by easy stages 
 to London, where he died at the beginning of the 
 year 1639.
 
 xviii PREFATORY NOTICE. 
 
 Besides several minor Poems scattered about in 
 different publications, he wrote 
 
 Cupid and Psyche ; or, an Epic Poem of Cupid 
 and his Mistress, as lately presented to the 
 Prince Elector. Lond. 1637. 4to ; and 
 
 The Three Comedies which follow, viz. : — 
 
 Holland's Leaguer, . . . 1632 
 
 A Fine Companion, . . . 1633 
 
 The Antiquary, .... 1641 
 
 To him has also been attributed, but without 
 
 sufficient evidence : — 
 
 The Crafty Merchant, or the Soldier'd Citi- 
 zen. A Comedy. Not Printed. 
 
 The Faithful Shepherd. A Pastoral. 
 
 There is a copy of his "Fine Companion" in 
 the Grenville collection in the British Museum, 
 "marked" for acting, the character of the hand- 
 writing being about fifty years later than the date 
 of the piece. There are numerous verbal altera- 
 tions, and a good deal of "cutting" noted through- 
 out and on the margins ; but unfortunately the MS. 
 interpolations of the longer passages deleted have 
 been removed, the fragments of wafers to which 
 these more important alterations have been attached 
 being the only vestiges left of their having existed. 
 
 Marmion's very beautiful Legend of Cupid 
 and Psyche, a work upon which his poetic fame 
 must more immediately rest, has been carefully 
 edited for modern readers, by W. S. Singer, Esq. 
 He takes the text from the first edition, to which 
 is prefixed commendatory verses by Richard Broun, 
 Francis Tuckyr, Thomas Nabbes, and Thomas 
 Hey wood. 
 
 A second edition appears to have been issued in 
 folio in 1638. 
 
 Another edition, which in this way may be
 
 PREFATORY NOTICE. XIX 
 
 termed the third, subsequently appeared under 
 this title : — 
 
 " Cupid's Courtship : or the Celebration of a 
 Marriage between the God of Love and Psiche. 
 Licensed October 29, 1G66. Roger L'Estrange. 
 London, printed by E. 0. for Thomas Dring, at 
 the White Lion in Fleet-street, near Chancery- 
 lane. 1G66. lGmo." 
 
 The commencing title is : A Moral Poem on the 
 Marriage of Cupid and Psiche, pp. 80. Title, two 
 Addresses by Friends, F. T. and T. H., the Argu- 
 ment and the Mythology occupying other 8 pages. 
 
 The Argument and its Explanation, which occur 
 in all the editions, are as follows : — 
 
 "THE ARGUMENT. 
 
 There was inhabiting in a certain city a King 
 and Queen, who had three daughters ; the elder 
 two of a moderate, mean beauty, but the youngest 
 was of so curious, so pleasing a feature, and exact 
 symmetry of body, that men esteemed her gener- 
 ally a goddess, and a Venus of the earth. Her 
 sisters being happily married to their desires and 
 dignities, she only, out of a super-excellency of 
 perfection, became rather the subject of adoration 
 than love. Venus, conceiving an offence, and en- 
 vious of her good parts, incites Cupid to a revenge, 
 and severe vindication of his mother's honour. 
 Cupid, like a fine archer, coming to execute his 
 mother's design, falls in love with the maid and 
 wounds himself. Apollo, by Cupid's subornation, 
 adjudges her in marriage to a serpent. Upon 
 which, like Andromeda, she is left chained to a 
 rock, her marriage being celebrated rather with 
 funeral obsequies than hymeneal solemnities. In 
 this inconceivable afright she is borne far away by 
 the west-wind to a goodly fair house, whose wealth
 
 XX PREFATORY NOTICE. 
 
 and stateliness no praise can determine. Her hus- 
 band, in the deadness and solitude of night, did 
 oft-times enjoy her, and as he entered in obscurity, 
 so he departed in silence, without once making 
 himself known unto her. Thus she continued for 
 a long season, being only waited upon by the 
 ministery of the Winds and Voices. Her sisters 
 came every day to seek and bewail her • and 
 though her husband did with many threats pro- 
 hibit her the sight of them, yet natural affection 
 prevailed above conjugal duty, for she never ceased 
 with tears to solicit him, till he had permitted their 
 access. They no sooner arrived, but instantly cor- 
 rupt her, and with wicked counsel deprave her 
 understanding, infusing a belief that she had 
 married and did nightly embrace a true serpent ; 
 nor are they yet contenteil to turn the heaven of 
 her security into the hell of suspicion, but with 
 many importunities proceed, exhorting her to kill 
 him, which she also assents unto. Thus credulity 
 proves the mother of deceit, and curiosity the step- 
 mother of safety. Having thus prepared for his 
 destruction, the scene is altered, and she acts the 
 Tragedy of her own happy fortunes : for coming 
 with an intent to mischief him, so soon as the 
 light has discovered what he was, she falls into an 
 extremity of love and passion, being altogether 
 ravished with his beauty and habiliments ; and 
 while she kisses him with as little modesty as 
 care, the burning lamp drops upon his shoulder, 
 whereupon her husband furiously awakes, and 
 having with many expostulations abandoned her 
 falsehood, scorns and forsakes her. The maid, 
 after a tedious pilgrimage to regain his love and 
 society, Ceres and Juno having repulsed her, freely 
 at the last offers up herself to Venus, where through 
 her injunctions and imperious commands she is
 
 PREFATORY NOTICE. XXI 
 
 coarsely treated, and set to many hard and 
 grievous tasks : as first, the separation of several 
 grains, with the fetching of the Stygian water and 
 the Golden Fleece, and the Box of beauty from 
 Proserpine ; all which by divine assistance being 
 perform'd, she is reconciled, and in the presence 
 of the gods married to her husband : the wedding 
 is solemnized in Heaven. 
 
 " THE MYTHOLOGY ; OR, EXPLANATION OF THE 
 ARGUMENT. 
 
 By the City is meant the World ; by the King 
 and Queen, God and Nature ; by the two elder 
 sisters, the flesh and the will ; by the last, the 
 Soul, which is the most beautiful, and the youngest, 
 since she is infused after the body is fashioned. 
 Venus, by which is understood Lust, is feigned to 
 envy her, and stir up Cupid, which is Desire, to 
 destroy her ; but because Desire has equal relation 
 both to Good and Evil, he is here brought in to 
 love the Soul, and to be join'd with her, whom 
 also he persuades not to see his face, that is, not 
 to learn his delights and his vanities ; for Adam, 
 though he Avere naked, yet he saw it not, till he 
 had eaten of the tree of Concupiscence. And where- 
 as she is said to burn him with the dispumation 
 of the lamp, by that is understood that she vomits 
 out the flames of desire which were hid in her 
 breast; for desire, the more it is kindled, the more 
 it burns, and makes, as it were, a blister in the 
 mind. Thus, like Eve, being made naked through 
 desire, she is cast out of all happiness, exil'd from 
 her house, and tost with many dangers. By Ceres 
 and Juno both repulsing of her is meant that 
 neither wealth nor honour can succour a distressed 
 soul : In the separation of several grains is under- 
 stood the act of the Soul, which is recollection, and
 
 XX11 PREFATORY NOTICE. 
 
 the substance of that act, her forepast sins : By her 
 going to Hell, and those several occurrences, are 
 meant the many dangers of despair: by the Stygian 
 water, the tears of repentance ; and by the Golden 
 Fleece, her forgiveness. All which, as in the 
 Argument is specified, being by Divine Pro- 
 vidence accomplish'd, she is married to her spouse 
 in Heaven." 
 
 JAMES MAIDMENT. 
 W. H. LOGAN. 
 
 April 1875.
 
 HOLLAND'S LEAGUER.
 
 Hollands Leagver. An excellent comedy as it hath bin 
 lately and often acted with great applause, by the high and 
 mighty Prince Charles his servants; at the private house 
 in Salisbury Court. Written by Shackerley Marmyon, 
 Master of Arts. 
 
 vult hcec sub luce videri; 
 
 Indicts argutum quia non formidat acumen. 
 Printed at London by I. B. for Iohn Grove, dwelling 
 in Swan Yard within Newgate, 1632.
 
 Of this play Langbaine says: — "An excellent Comedy 
 often acted with great applause, by the High and Mighty 
 Prince Charles his Servants, at the Private House in 
 Salisbury Court, printed quarto, Lond. 1632. The author 
 of this play has shewed his reading, having borrow'd 
 several things from Juvenal, Petronius Arbiter, &c." 
 
 In the notice of this piece in the Biographia Dramatica 
 it is said that besides being acted at Salisbury Court, it 
 was acted at Court before the King and Queen, but no 
 authority is given for this latter statement. The notice 
 goes on further to say, — " This piece met with great 
 applause. The story was printed the same year in 4to; 
 but there is no incident in this play taken from it, except 
 a detection of the sin of pandarism." 
 
 The situation of Holland's Leaguer, a well-known 
 brothel, was what forms a part of the present Holland 
 Street, Blackfriars. 
 
 There w T as a copy of this " Story," which is very 
 scarce, in George Daniel's Library, sold in 1864 by 
 Sotheby. — This copy was recently in the possession of 
 Bernard Quaritch, Bookseller, Piccadilly, and in his 
 catalogue it is thus described : — 
 
 " Holland's Leaguer, or a Historical discourse of the 
 life and actions of Dona Britanica Hollandia, the Arch- 
 Mistris of the wicked women of Eutopia, wherein is 
 detected the notorious sinne of Pandarisme, and the 
 execrable life of the luxurious Impudent, with the rare 
 frontispiece of the celebrated brothel, the last line of the 
 metrical inscription being, as usual, cut into, fine copy in 
 morocco extra, blind tooled, gilt edges. Sin. 4to, printed 
 by A. M.for Richard Barnes, 1632, £7, 15s." 
 
 Geneste in his quaint precis of the plot thus notes : — 
 " The Lord Philautus is self- conceited to the last degree, 
 he is encouraged in his folly by Ardelio, who is his 
 Steward and parasite. Philautus is brought to his sober 
 senses by Faustina. She turns out to be his sister. 
 The bulk of the play consists of an under- plot with
 
 4 HOLLAND'S LEAGUER. 
 
 comic characters : the 4th act passes chiefly before a 
 brothel, which is repeatedly called the Leaguer, and 
 sometimes a castle or fort. Trimalchio and Gapritio (two 
 Gulls) with the Tutor of the latter, and Ardelio, are 
 taken up by a pretended constable and watchman, as 
 they are coming from the Leaguer." 
 
 The word " Leaguer," used to signify a brothel, 
 occurs more than once in "the Knave in grain new 
 vampt," a comedy by J. D. Acted at the Fortune play- 
 house, 1640. 
 
 In Glapthorne's comedy "the Hollander," is this 
 passage : — 
 
 " Have you not constant 
 She souldiers in your citadelle ? none such 
 Had Holland's Leaguer ; Lambeth Marsh is held 
 A nunry to your Colledge." 
 
 Of the actors who personated the several characters 
 in this play nothing is known, in so far as the Editors 
 have been able to trace.
 
 TO THE READER. 
 
 Courteous Reader, for so I presume thou art, — if 
 otherwise, thou losest the title of being styled in- 
 genious, for there are none but favour learning if 
 they so much as pretend to it, but I hope I need 
 make no apology, either to gain thy favour or to 
 credit the work, it has so often passed with 
 approbation, that I have hopes it will continue it. 
 If there be any so supercilious to condemn it before 
 they read it, let them rest content with the title, 
 and not enter into the Theatre, unless they intend 
 to behold the florales. However my Muse has de- 
 scended to this subject, let men esteem of her 
 only as a reprover, not an interpreter of wicked- 
 ness : Ocultare peccantis promulgare ludentis est. 
 
 Aristippus, being compelled to dance in purple 
 against the dignity of a philosopher, made an 
 excuse that the baits of sin had no power on a good 
 nature; and Plato, having composed wanton verses, 
 affirmed that the more plain they were the more 
 honest ; and your former writers in their accurate 
 discovery of vice, have mingled their precepts of 
 wisdom. If thou shalt accept this as it was 
 simply meant, the applause it has obtained shall 
 not so much crown it as thy acceptation. 
 
 SHACKERLEY MARMYOK
 
 DRAMATIS PERSON/E. 
 
 [ a Lord enamoured 
 Philautus, I ofhimself> 
 
 Ardelio, his parasite, 
 Trimalchio, a humorous gallant, 
 Agurtes, an Impostor, 
 Atjtolictjs, his disciple, 
 Capritio, a young Novice. 
 Miscellanio, his Tutor. . 
 Snarl, 
 
 Fidelio, 
 
 friends to Philautus, 
 
 Jeffry, tenant to Philautus, 
 Triphcena, wife to Philautus. 
 Faustina, sister to Philautus. 
 Millescent, daugher to Agurtes. 
 Margery, her maid, 
 Quartilla, gentlewoman to Tri- 
 phcena, 
 
 Bawd, 
 
 Two JJliores. Pandar. Office) 
 
 > William Browne, 
 
 Ellis Worth. 
 
 Andrew Keyne. 
 
 Matthew Smith. 
 
 James Sneller. 
 
 Henry Gr ad well. 
 
 Thomas Bond. 
 ^ Richard Fowler. 
 I Edward May. 
 
 Robert Hunt. 
 
 Robert Stratford. 
 
 Richard Godwin. 
 
 John Wright. 
 
 Richard Fouch. 
 
 Arthur Savill. 
 Samuel Mannery. 
 
 s,
 
 PROLOGUE. 
 
 Gentle spectators, that, with graceful eye, 
 
 Come to behold the Muse's colony, 
 
 New planted in this soil : forsook of late 
 
 By the inhabitants, since made fortunate 
 
 By more propitious stars ; though on each hand 
 
 To overtop us two great Laurels stand : 
 
 The one, when she shall please to spread her train, 
 
 The vastness of the globe cannot contain : 
 
 Th' other so high, the Phoenix does aspire 
 
 To build in, and takes new life from the fire 
 
 Bright poesy creates ; yet we partake 
 
 The influence they boast of, which does make 
 
 Our bayes to flourish, and the leaves to spring, 
 
 That on our branches now new poets sing : 
 
 And when with joy he shall see this resort, 
 
 Phoebus shall not disdain to styl't his Court.
 
 HOLLAND'S LEAGUER. 
 
 Act. I. Scene I. 
 Fidelio, Snarl. 
 
 Fid. What, Snarl, my dear Democritus, how 
 is't? 
 You are a Courtier grown, I hear. 
 
 Snar. No sir ; 
 That's too deep a mystery for me to profess. 
 I spend my own revenues, only I have 
 An itching humour to see fashions. 
 
 Fid. And what have you observ'd since you came 
 hither 1 
 
 Snar. "Why, they do hold here the same maxim 
 still : 
 That to dissemble is the way to live. 
 But promotion hangs all upon one chain, 
 And that's of gold ; he that intends to climb 
 Must get up by the links ; and those are tied 
 Together with the thread of .my Lord's favour. 
 
 Fid. So, sir 1 
 
 Snar. And all desire to live long and healthy : 
 But ambition and luxury will not permit it. 
 
 Fid. I hope you do not share in their desires ? 
 
 Snar. There is other preposterous dealing too ; 
 For nature cannot find herself amongst them, 
 There's such effeminacy in both sexes, 
 They cannot be distinguished asunder. 
 And for your times and seasons of all ages ; 
 Your best astrologer cannot discern them, 
 Not spring from autumn ; you shall have a lady,
 
 10 HOLLAND'S LEAGUER. 
 
 Whose cheek is like a screw, and every wrinkle 
 Would look like a furrow, yet with a garnish 
 Is so filled up and plaister'd that it looks 
 As fresh as a new painted tavern, only — 
 
 Fid. Hold there ! you'll run yourself out of 
 breath else. 
 And now resolve me of the Lord Philautus : 
 Is all that true that is reported of him ] 
 
 Snar. Who, he ] the most besotted on his beauty ; 
 He studies nothing but to court himself: 
 No musick but the harmony of his limbs, 
 No work of art but his own symmetry 
 Allures his sense to admiration, 
 And then he comes forth so bath'd in perfumes, 
 Had you no sense to guide you but your nose, 
 You'd think him a musk-cat, he smells as rank 
 As th' extreme unction of two funerals. 
 
 Fid. My sense will ne'er be able to endure him. 
 
 Snar. Such men as smell so, I suspect their 
 savour. 
 
 Fid. Is none his friend to tell him of his faults ] 
 
 Snar. There want not some that seek to flatter 
 him, 
 For great men's vices are esteem'd as virtues. 
 
 Fid. O, they are still in fashion ! in them 
 A wry neck is a comely precedent : 
 Disorder, disagreement in their lives 
 And manners is thought regular, their actions 
 Are still authentic, if it be received ; 
 To be illiterate is a point of state. 
 
 Snar. But the worst thing which I dislike in him, 
 Which he does more by words than action : 
 He gives out that the ladies dote upon him, 
 And that he can command them at his pleasure, 
 And swears there's scarce an honest woman. 
 
 Fid. How? 
 
 Snar. It is not well to say so, but, by this light,
 
 Holland's leaguer. 1 1 
 
 I am of his mind too. 
 
 Fid. You are deceived, 
 There are a thousand chaste. 
 
 Snar. There was an age 
 When Juno was a maid, and Jove had no beard, 
 When miserable Atlas was not oppressed 
 With such a sort of deities, and each 
 Dined by himself: before ushers and pages 
 Swarmed so, and banquets, and your masques 
 
 came up 
 Biding in coaches, visiting, and titles, 
 So many plays, and Puritan preachings, 
 That women might be chaste : now 'tis impossible. 
 Now should I find such a prodigious faith, 
 I'd honourt with a sacrifice. 
 
 Fid. 'Tis ill 
 To be incredulous, when charity 
 Exacts your belief : but let that pass ! 
 What will you say, if I find out a means 
 To cure him of his folly 1 
 
 Snar. Then I pronounce 
 The destruction of bedlam, and all mad folks 
 Shall be thy patients. 
 
 Fid. Nay, I'll do it, 
 I'll make him in love and do it ! 
 
 Sna. That's a cure 
 Worse than any disease. I can as soon 
 Believe a fire may be extinct with oil, 
 Or a fever cooled with drinking of sack. 
 
 Fid. Suspend your judgement, till I confirm you. 
 
 Snar. No more ! stand by, here comes the parasite. 
 That is Narcissus and this is his echo. 
 
 Fid. What is he? 
 
 Snar. One that feeds all men's humours that feed 
 him, 
 Can apprehend their jests before they speak them, 
 And with a forced laughter play the midwife
 
 12 HOLLAND'S LEAGUER. 
 
 To bring them forth, and carries still in store 
 
 A plaudit when they break wind, or urine. 
 
 He fits his master right, although he ne'er 
 
 Took measure of him, and though he has not been 
 
 Far from home yet will lie like a traveller. 
 
 He'll rather vex you with officiousness 
 
 Than you shall pass unsaluted : his business 
 
 Is only to be busy, and his tongue's still walking, 
 
 Though himself be one of the worst moveables : 
 
 A confus'd lump leavened with knavery. 
 
 Stand by a little, and let's hear his discourse ! 
 
 Act I. Scene II. 
 Ardelio, Jeffry, Fidelio, and Snarl. 
 
 Ard. Jeffry, come hither ! 
 
 Jef. Sir, I wait upon you. 
 
 Ard. Jeffry, you know that I have ever been 
 Indulgent to your knaveries. 
 
 Jef. I thank your worship, you have ever been 
 my friend. 
 
 Ard. Winked at your faults. 
 
 Jef. True. 
 
 Ard, And the reason is, 
 Because I still am welcome to thy wife. 
 
 Jef. Your worship may be welcome there at all 
 times. 
 
 Ard. Honest Jetfry, thou shaltlose nothing by it, 
 You know my authority in the house : my Lord 
 Puts all the care into my hands, has left me 
 The managing of his estate, because 
 I know the way to humour him. 
 
 Jef. That is an evident token of your worship's 
 wisdom. 
 
 Ard. And none of them have any place or being, 
 Without my suffrance.
 
 HOLLAND'S LEAGUER. 13 
 
 Jef Sir, you are of power to disperse us like 
 atoms. 
 
 Ard. Therefore I expect the reverence is due 
 unto my place. 
 
 Jef. And reason good. 
 
 Ard. Well, for thy honest care, 
 I mean to substitute thee under me 
 In all inferior matters, for I mean 
 To take my ease, and pamper up my genius 
 As well as he. Only for entertainment, 
 Or anything belongs unto the kitchen, 
 Let me alone. 
 
 Jef. Yes, sir, your providence 
 Has shewed itself sufficiently that way. 
 
 Ard. I'll take the air in his coach, eat of the 
 best, 
 And for my private drinking I will have 
 My choice of wines, fiU'd out of vessels whose age 
 Has worn their countries name out, and their own, 
 Like some unthankful hospital or college, 
 That has forgot the founder. 
 
 Sua. To what purpose, 
 I wonder, should nature create this fellow 1 
 He is good for nothing else, but to maintain 
 The mutiny of the paunch against the members; 
 Keep him from his whore, and his sack, and you 
 Detain him from his centre. 
 
 Ard. By the way, 
 I will acquaint thee with a secret, Jeffry. 
 
 Jef What's that, sir 1 
 
 Ard. I do love a pretty wench well. 
 
 Jef 'Tis the only gentle humour that is extant. 
 
 Ard. I will not leave my recreation that way 
 For a whole empire ! 'tis my summum bonuut, 
 My sole felicity, tickles my conceit. 
 But, not a word. 
 
 Jef. Not I, by any means, sir !
 
 14 HOLLAND'S LEAGUER. 
 
 Ard. And for this cause, I mean t' apply my- 
 self 
 Wholly to my venery. I feel this heat 
 Renews my blood and makes me younger for it. 
 And thou shalt keep one for me at thy house. 
 
 Jef Where ! at my house 1 
 
 Ard. Ay, there ! a heavy burden 
 Of fleshly desires daily grows upon me 
 And ease works on my nature ; once a week 
 When I am ballasted with wine and lust, 
 I'll sail to my Canaries. 
 
 Jef. And unlade there. 
 
 Ard. Wilt keep her for me and let none come 
 near her ] 
 
 Jef. I have had such favour at your worship's 
 hands, 
 That should good fortune come in human shape 
 To tempt your mistress, I'd not let her in. 
 
 Ard. I'll procure thee the lease of thy house free, 
 And when I have done, I'll see it sha'nt stand 
 
 empty. 
 Hast thou any good rooms for stowage there ? 
 
 Jef. Spare rooms enough, sir ; why do you ask 1 
 
 Ard. Because I will convey away some house- 
 hold stuff. 
 That's not amiss 1 
 
 Jef. No, sir ! 
 
 Ard. Tis quite against my nature to see any 
 vacuum, 
 Besides, 'tis not an age to be honest in. 
 
 Jef. That's the highway to poverty. 
 
 Ard. I mean to make the benefit of my place 
 therefore, 
 And when I have done I'd fain see all your artists, 
 Your politicians with their instruments 
 And plummets of wit, sound the depth of me. 
 
 Jef. It lyes not in the reach of man to fathom it.
 
 HOLLAND'S LEAGUER. 15 
 
 Ard. Were I set in a place of Justice now, 
 They would admire me, how I should become it : 
 Cough on the bench with state, sit in my nightcap, 
 Stroke out an apophthem out of my beard, 
 Frame a grave city face, jeer at offenders, 
 Cry out upon the vices of the times, 
 tempores, 7norums ! 
 
 Sna. How the rank rascal 
 Is over-grown with flesh and villany ! 
 
 Ard. This getting of money is a mystery, 
 Is to be learned before a man's alphabet, 
 No matter how, 'tis supposed he that has it 
 Is wise and virtuous, though he be obscure, 
 A fugitive, and perjur'd, anything, 
 He and his cause shall neither want for friends. 
 He is the chick of the white hen, old Fortune : 
 What e'er he treads upon shall be a rose, 
 He shall be invited to his capon and custard, 
 Hide to the Sheriffs a feasting on his foot-cloth, 
 Possess the highest room, have the first carving, 
 With please you eat of this or that, my noble, 
 My right worshipful brother 1 Your rich men 
 Shall strive to put their sons to be his pages, 
 And their wives to be his concubines. 
 
 Jef. Shall marry young ones a purpose for him. 
 
 Sna. Very likely. 
 
 Ard. No more, be gone ! I hear my Lord a coming. 
 I'll send thee my wench; mark me, keep her close ! 
 
 Jef. Believe me, not a breath of air comes near 
 her, 
 But what steals in at the window . 
 
 Ard. 'Tis well said. 
 
 Jef. But stay, sir, will she not be too great a 
 charge 
 To keep her to yourself? What if you hired her 
 By the month as your factors do beyond sea, 
 And when she is grown old and leaky, sir,
 
 16 Holland's leaguer. 
 
 Mend her i'th dock and fraught her o'er for Holland. 
 
 Ard. Ay, o'er the Avater, 'twas well thought upon, 
 I think an she were trimmed up, she would serve 
 At last for such a voyage well enough. 
 What wilt thou say, when I have done with her, 
 If I do make thee master of my bottom 1 
 
 Jef. Who, me 1 The devil shall be the pilot first, 
 Ere I come near their quicksands, their base roads : 
 They have a dangerous quay to come into. 
 
 Ard. What e'er the key be, still the door's kept 
 fast. 
 
 Jef. As strict as an alderman's at dinner time. 
 Ay, and the way to hell is grown so narrow, 
 A man's in danger to pass o'er, for if 
 We reel beside the bridge, straight we shall fall 
 Into a lake that will foully dight * us, 
 Darker and deeper than Styx or Cocytus. 
 
 Ard. Well rhymed, Jeffry ! this knave will come 
 in time, 
 By being often in my company, 
 And gleaning but the refuse of my speech, 
 T' arrive at some proportion of wit. 
 But, to avoid suspicion, be gone ! [Exit Jeffry. 
 
 Now would I see the man that should affront me. 
 My Lord will straight be here, I'll entertain him, 
 And talk as superciliously, and walk 
 As stately as the Warden of a college, 
 Until I have made a right pupil of him. 
 
 Act I. Scene III. 
 
 Snarl, Fidelio, and Ardelio. 
 
 Sna. How now, Ardelio ! what 1 so melancholy 1 
 Ard. Faith, all this day I have been so employed 
 With setting things in order, and provisions, 
 
 * Dirty us. — "Dight," in Scotch, means to wipe down.
 
 HOLLAND'S LEAGUER. 17 
 
 I can compare my pains to nothing less 
 Than a Lord General's. 
 
 Sna. Why. what's the matter ] 
 
 Ard. Things must he ordered, and there's nothing 
 Done unless I oversee it ; my industry 
 Must marshal! the dishes, put the stools in rank, 
 See the wood set upon the carriages, 
 Sharpen the knives : all these witness my care, 
 The very shining of the candlesticks 
 Acknowledge my directions. 
 
 Snar. 'Tis much ! 
 
 The strange activity that some men have 
 To dispatch business. 
 
 Ard. Why, sir, did you never 
 Hear how Apelles pictured Homer spewing, 
 And all the poets gaping to receive it 1 
 
 Snar. Yes, and what then 1 
 
 Ard. In the same manner do I, 
 
 Upon the hushers, the clarks, and the butlers, 
 The cooks, and other officers, 'mongst whom 
 I find to be a drought of understanding, 
 Shower down the dregs of my counsel. 
 
 Snar. They are like to be well edified. 
 
 Ard. Here comes my Lord ! make room for my 
 Lord's Grace ! 
 
 Act I. Scene IV. 
 
 Philautus, Triphcena, Trimalchio, Ardelio, 
 Snarl, Fidelio. 
 
 Ard. God save your Honour ! may your flourish- 
 ing youth 
 Enjoy an everlasting spring of beauty, 
 And know no autumn. 
 
 Phil. Thanks, good Ardelio ! 
 Your wishes have effect : this is the tree 
 
 B
 
 18 HOLLAND'S LEAGUER. 
 
 Under whose shadow Flora builds her bower, 
 And on whose branches hangs such tempting fruit, 
 Would draw fair Atalanta from her course ; 
 An altar on which Queens should sacrifice 
 Their scorned loves. Nature will scarce believe 
 It is her own invention, and repines 
 She has no way to be incestuous. 
 
 Triph. Mr Trimalchio, I am sick to hear him, 
 I can't abide these repetitions, 
 And tedious encomiums of himself ! 
 Let you and I walk a turn in the garden. 
 
 Trim. You are the only garden of my delight, 
 And I your dear Adonis, honoured lady. 
 
 [Exeunt Trimalchio, Triphcena. 
 
 Phil. Ardelio, tell me how this suit becomes me ! 
 
 Aral. Exactly well, sir, without controversy, 
 And you wear it as neatly. 
 
 Phil. Nay, I have 
 A reasonable good tailor : I hope he has not 
 Surveyed me so long but he knows my dimensions. 
 I think I may venture i' th' presence with it. 
 
 Ard. I' th' presence ] Ay, and love were th' pre- 
 sence, 
 You'd thrust Ganymede out of his office. 
 
 Phil. What think you, gentlemen 1 
 
 Fid. We all do wish, 
 Your beauty or your vanity were less, 
 For, by this means, that which would else commend 
 
 you 
 Proves your disgrace : you take the edge of praise off 
 Is due to you by too much whetting it. 
 
 Phil. I should prove too injurious to myself, 
 Should I pass over, with a slight regard, 
 This building nature has solemnised 
 With such magnificence, to which I owe 
 The loves of ladies, and their daily presents, 
 Their hourly solicitations with letters,
 
 HOLLAND'S LEAGUER. 19 
 
 Their entertainments when I come, their plots 
 They lay to view me, which, should I recount, 
 'Twould puzzel my arithmetic, and to answer 
 Their unjust desires would ask the labours 
 Of some ten stallions. 
 
 Ard. And make all jades of them 1 
 
 Fid. You are the centre of all women's love then ? 
 
 Phil. 'Tis true I have a strange attractive power 
 Over your females ; did you never hear of 
 Three Goddesses that strove on Ida hill, 
 Naked before a shepherd, for a ball 
 With an inscription " let the fairest have it 1 " 
 
 Fid. And what of those 1 
 
 Phil. Bring them all three before me ! 
 If I surprise them not all at first dash, 
 If they fall not together by the ears for me, 
 Nay, if they run not mad, and follow me 
 As if they were drunk with a love potion, 
 Ne'er trust a prognosticator again. 
 
 Snar. But how if you should chance to meet 
 Diana 1 
 Take heed of her, it is a testy girl, 
 A profest virgin. 
 
 Phil. 'Tis my ambition 
 To meet with her, to bath my limbs with her 
 In the same well, shoot in her bow, dance with her, 
 And get the foremost of her troupe with child, 
 And turn the rape on Jupiter. 
 
 Snar. Fine, y' faith ! 
 
 Fid. It seems that you are of opinion 
 There is no text of womankind so holy, 
 But may be corrupted, though a Deity. 
 Phil. Ardelio,tell me what thou dost think of them. 
 
 Ard. Who, I 1 ? hang me should I be questioned 
 Now for my faith concerning articles 
 Of women's chastity, I should be burnt 
 For a rank heretic. I believe none of them.
 
 20 Holland's leaguer. 
 
 Fid. But I think otherwise ; and can justify it. 
 What, if I bring you now unto a beauty 
 As glorious as the sun, but in desire 
 Cold as the middle region of the air, 
 And free from all reflection of lust ? 
 
 Phil. But shall I speak with her, and tempt her 
 to it? 
 
 Fid. You shall converse with her, and she shall feed 
 Your sense with such discoursive influence, 
 And a voice sweeter than the Lydian tunes, 
 Jove would bow down his ear to, yet her blood 
 Shall run as cold as julips through her veins ; 
 The spring tide of her youth shall swell with more 
 Delights than there be drops in April, yet she 
 As chaste as Salmacis, amidst the streams.* 
 Her eye shall sparkle like the diamond, 
 And be as pure, her kisses soft and melting 
 As the south wind, but undefil'd as Heaven : 
 And you shall feel the elemental fire 
 Of her unspotted love, and grieve, and swear 
 She is so celestial and divine a creature, 
 That's only hot in her effect, not nature. 
 
 Phil. Why such a one would I converse with all; 
 The conquest will be greater. Shall I see her 1 
 
 Fid. I'll bring you to her. 
 
 Ard. He has a strong belief. 
 I have no such confidence. She may be Lucrece 
 And he a foolish Colatine f to brag of her ; 
 But most of them in playing fast and loose 
 Will cheat an oracle. I have a creature 
 Before these Courtiers lick their lips at her 
 I'll trust a wanton haggard J in the wind. 
 This lady is his sister and my mistress, 
 
 * A fountain of Caria, near Halicarnassus, which rendered 
 effeminate all those who drank of its waters. 
 + Tarquin. 
 J A wild-hawk — metaphorically, a loose woman.
 
 Holland's leaguer. 21 
 
 Yet both unknown to him — some few years since, 
 
 Her father jealous of my love, because 
 
 I was a gentleman of no great fortune, 
 
 Sent her away, and charged her by an oath 
 
 To marry none till seven years were expired, 
 
 Six parts of which are gone, yet she remains 
 
 Constant to what she promised, though his death 
 
 Has partly quit her. To live in her sight 
 
 And not enjoy her is a heavenly torment, 
 
 But unsufferable, I must live apart 
 
 Till the prefixed minute be expired. 
 
 In the meantime I'll work by some good means, 
 
 To win his love, and draw him from his folly. 
 
 But first by him I'll try her constancy : 
 
 I must prepare her for his entertainment, 
 
 Because she will admit no company, 
 
 Nor will be known to any but myself. 
 
 Come sir, let's go ! by that which shall ensue, 
 
 You shall affirm what I relate is true. 
 
 Act I. Scene V. 
 Agurtes, Autolicus. 
 
 Agu. Tis a dull age this ! Fame casts not her eyes 
 On men of worth : Captains and commanders, 
 Victorious abroad, are vanquished at home 
 With poverty and disgrace ; they look as bad 
 As Brutus, when he met his evil genius : 
 Worse than they had been frighted from the ruins 
 Of Isis' temple ; and you, sir, for your part, 
 That have been brought up under me at my elbow, 
 A daily witness unto all my projects, 
 That might have got experience enough 
 To cozen a whole State if they had trusted you, 
 Now to be wanting to yourself, worn out, 
 No name or title but on posts and trenchers, 
 And doors scored with a coal, instead of chalk.
 
 22 HOLLAND'S LEAGUER. 
 
 Are my hopes come to this ] 
 
 Aut. What should I do 1 
 I have no thriving way to lie and flatter, 
 Nor have I such dexterity of wit 
 As you have, blest be heaven ! to convert 
 Black into white. 
 
 Agu. Nay, if you have no will 
 Nor power to free yourself, you must resolve 
 To stick in the dirt still. 
 
 Aut. Nor can I promise 
 The death of any by the stars. I have 
 No rich man's funeral to solemnise, 
 That left a gilt ring for my legacy, 
 And his old velvet jerkin to survive him. 
 I have no secret boils within my breast, 
 For which I am feared, no suit in law to follow, 
 No accusation 'gainst a great man, 
 No house to let to farm, no tender wife 
 To prostitute, or skill to corrupt others, 
 And sleep amidst their wanton dialogues. 
 
 Agu. I cry you mercy! you would fain be styled 
 An honest politic fool, see all men's turns 
 Served but your own ; so leave off to be good. 
 For what is now accounted to be good ] 
 Take a good lawyer or a good attorney, 
 A citizen that's a good chapman : 
 In a good sense what are they ] I would know 
 Why a good gamester, or a good courtier ? 
 Is't for their honest dealing ? Take a good poet, 
 And if he write not bawdy lines and raptures, 
 I'll not give a pin for him. 
 
 Aut. Would you have me 
 Act the plagiary and seek preferment, 
 To be the drunken bard of some black stews 
 And think my destiny well satisfied, 
 When my shame feeds me, and at length expect 
 A legacy becjueathed me from some Bawd,
 
 Holland's leaguer. 23 
 
 In lieu of my old service, or according 
 To the proportion of my Hernia 1 
 
 Agu. Well, I perceive that I must once more take 
 you 
 To my protection, Avhich if I do 
 I'll teach you better rules. You shall no more 
 Commit your misery to loose papers, 
 Nor court my Lord with panegyrics, nor make 
 Strange anagrams of my Lady. You shall not need 
 To deal for stale commodities, nor yet 
 Send forth your privy hills without a seal 
 To free you from your lodging, where you have 
 Lain in most part of the vacation. 
 You shall no longer run in score with your hostess 
 For brown toasts and tobacco, but you shall leave 
 Your open standings at the ends of lanes, 
 Or your close coverts in tobacco shops, 
 Where you give strict attendance like a sergeant, 
 Until some antedated country cloak 
 Pass by, whom you most impudently may 
 Assault to borrow twelvepence ; but bear up 
 Stiffly and with the best. 
 
 Aut. How shall that be done 1 
 
 Agu. We will not call Tiresias* from the dead 
 To show us how, as he did once Ulysses. 
 You must resolve to learn virtue from others, 
 Fortune from me. 
 
 Aut. For that I'll make no scruple. 
 
 Agu. I have a bird i'th' wind, I'll fly thee on him ! 
 He shall be thy adventure, thy first quarry. 
 
 Aut. What's he 1 
 
 Agu. A golden one that drops his feathers, 
 That has received his patrimony, gives money 
 For all acquaintance. When he first came up, 
 His only search was for prime curtezans 
 And those he entertained for mistresses, 
 
 * A blind soothsayer of Thebes.
 
 24 Holland's leaguer. 
 
 Only sometimes to drink a health to them. 
 
 The ladies too would use him for a cooler, 
 
 But they suspect his silence, yet he uses 
 
 Their names and titles as familiarly, 
 
 As he had 1>ought them. Thou shalt hook him in 
 
 And crack him like a nut. 
 
 Aut. Is he not the son 
 To the rich usurer that died so lately ? 
 
 Agu. The same, that heaped up money by the 
 bushel ; 
 And now this studies how to scatter it. 
 His father walks to see what becomes of it, 
 And that's his torment after death. 
 
 Ant. When shall I see him % 
 
 Agu. He is to meet me here within this hour, 
 Then take you an occasion to pass by, 
 And I will whisper to him, privately, 
 And praise thee, beyond Pyrrhus or Hannibal. 
 You must talk and look big, 'twill be the grace on't. 
 
 Ant. What, shall I turn a roarer % 
 
 Agu. Anything, 
 Broker or pandar, cheater or lifter, 
 And steal like a Lacsedemonian. 
 Observe what I do, and fill up the scene. 
 
 Enter Boy. 
 
 How now ! What news ? 
 
 Boy. Sir, there's some five or six without to 
 speak with you. 
 
 Agu. How ! five or six ? 
 
 Bmj. Yes, sir, and they pretend 
 Great business. 
 
 Agu. What manner of men are they ? 
 
 Boy. They look like pictures of antiquity, 
 And their cloaks seem to have bin the coverings 
 Of some old monuments. 
 
 Agn. They are my Gibeonites,
 
 Holland's leaguer. 25 
 
 Are come to traffic with me? Some design 
 Is now on foot, and this is our Exchange time. 
 These are my old projectors, and they make me 
 The superintendent of their business. 
 But still they shoot two or three bows too short, 
 For want of money and adventurers. 
 They have as many demurrers as the Chancery, 
 And hatch more strange imaginations 
 Than any dreaming philosopher : one of them 
 Will undertake the making of bay salt 
 For a penny a bushel to serve the State. 
 Another dreams of building water-works, 
 Drying of fens and marshes, like the Dutchmen. 
 Another strives to raise his fortunes from 
 Decayed bridges, and would exact a tribute 
 From ale-houses and sign-posts ; some there are 
 Would make a thorowfare for the whole kingdom, 
 And office, where nature should give account 
 For all she took and sent into the world. 
 But they were born in an unlucky hour, 
 For some unfortunate mischance or other 
 Still come athwart them : well I must into them 
 And feast them with new hopes, 'twill be good sport 
 To hear how they dispute it pro and am. 
 In the meantime, Autolicus, prepare 
 To meet my Courtier. 
 Aut. I have my cue, sir. 
 
 Act II. Scene I. 
 Agurtes, Trimalchio. 
 
 Agu. 'Tis near about the time he promised. 
 
 Trim. Boy, 
 Go and dispatch those letters presently ! 
 Return my service to the Lady Lautus, 
 And carry back her watch, and diamond.
 
 26 HOLLAND'S LEAGUER. 
 
 Ask if the duchess has been there to-day, 
 And if you chance to see the Lord, her brother, 
 Tell him I'll meet him at the Embassador's. 
 
 Boy. I shall, sir. 
 
 Aug. What ! M. Trimalchio 1 
 You are punctual to your hour. 
 
 Trim. Sir, for your sake 
 I can dispense with my occasions. 
 You'll not imagine what a heavy stir, 
 I had to come to-day. 
 
 Agu. Why, what's the matter 1 
 
 Trim. No less than seven coaches to attend me — 
 To fetch me nolens volens. 
 
 Agu. Pray from whom 1 
 
 Trim. The Lord Philautus, and some minor 
 nobles, 
 Whose names I am loth should clog my memory. 
 They strove for me as the seven Grecian cities 
 Were said to wrangle about the blind poet. 
 
 Agu. How got you rid of them 1 
 
 Trim. I had the grace 
 To go with none of them ; made an excuse 
 T' avoid their troublesome visitations. 
 
 Agu. How do they relish your neglect of them ] 
 
 Trim. I know not, yet I still abuse them all. 
 
 Agu. How 1 not abuse them 1 
 
 Trim. I mean laugh at them. 
 Some passages, some sprinkling of my wit, — 
 No otherwise for which you little think 
 How I am feared amongst them, how the ladies 
 Are took with my conceits, how they admire 
 My wit and judgment, trust me with their secrets 
 Beyond their painter, or apothecary. 
 I'll tell you in a Avord, but 'twill perplex you : 
 I am their Lasanophorus.* 
 
 * Adcravov. Cloaca, sella familiaris : locus aut vas ad de- 
 ponenduui ventris onus, apud Hesi/ch. et Poll. i. 10. cap. 9.
 
 HOLLAND'S LEAGUER. 27 
 
 Agu. Their piss-pot carrier. 
 
 Trim. Their winged Mercury, to be employed 
 On messages, and, for my company, 
 They swear it is the element they move in. 
 
 Agu. You are happy, Signiour Trimalchio. 
 
 Trim. I thank my fates, they have not altogether 
 Envied me. The fruition of such gifts 
 Are worth the taking notice of, besides 
 Some special helps of our own industry. 
 I lately studied the Economics. 
 
 Agu. What's that ? 
 
 Trim. The ordering of my family. 
 I have reduced it to a certain method. 
 
 Agu. As how "? 
 
 Trim. I'll tell you. Since my father's death 
 First thing I did I cashiered his old servants, 
 And, to avoid confusion and expense, 
 I left the country to revel it here, 
 I' th' view of the world, and in the sight of 
 
 beauties ; 
 And have confined myself unto some certain 
 Appendices, some necessary implements, 
 My single page, my groom, my coach, my foot-boy, 
 And my two penitentionary whores. 
 
 Agu. And these 
 Are all your inventory 1 
 
 Trim. Stay, who comes here 1 
 
 Enter Autoliuus. 
 
 Agu. 0, 'tis Autolicus ! 
 My noble friend and brother of the sword. 
 His stomach and his blade are of one temper, 
 Of equal edge, and will eat flesh alike. 
 He walks there melancholy ; to shew that worth 
 Can pass unregarded, be proud to know him ! 
 He is the shrewdest pated fellow breathing, 
 The only engineer in Christendom,
 
 28 Holland's leaguer. 
 
 Will blow you up a carak like a squib, 
 
 And row under water : th' Emperor. 
 
 And Spinola by secret intelligence 
 
 Have laid out for him any time this ten years, 
 
 And twice he has escaped them by a trick. 
 
 He is beyond Daedalus, or Archimedes, 
 
 But lies concealed like a seminary, 
 
 For fear the state should take notice of him. 
 
 Machavill for policy was a dunce to him, 
 
 And had he lived in Mahomet's days he had been 
 
 His only counsellor for the Alcoran ! 
 
 He is newly come from Holland : 
 
 Trim. My body 
 Is all of an itch to be acquainted with him ; 
 Pray speak to him for me. 
 
 Agu. Nay more ; he is able 
 To make you a perfect statesman in a month, 
 Able to be employed beyond the line. 
 
 Trim. You will for ever thrall me to your service. 
 
 Aug. Heark ye, Autolicus ! here's a gentleman, 
 Who though he be the Phoebus of the court, 
 So absolute in himself, that the desires 
 Of all men tend towards him and has power 
 Enough to wander in the Zodiac 
 Of his own worth, yet craves your acquaintance. 
 
 Aid. I take it, Senior Trimalchio. 
 
 Trim. Do you know me then 1 
 
 Aug. By an instinct, sir, men of Quality 
 Cannot lie hid. 
 
 Trim. Indeed, my father's name 
 Was Malchio, for my three additions 
 Of valour, wit, and honour, 'tis enlarg'd 
 To Mr Trimalchio : this is wonderful. 
 
 Agu. Alas, 'tis nothing, sir, if you knew all. 
 No ambuscado of the enemy, 
 No treachery, or plot, but he foresees it. 
 He was the first brought o'er the mystery
 
 Holland's leagulr. 29 
 
 Of building sconces here in England, — a trade 
 That many live upon. 
 
 Trim. A good commonwealth's man. 
 
 Agu. But this is certain, once in a strait leaguer 
 When they were close besieged, their ammunition 
 And victuals most part spent, he found a means 
 To yield the town on composition. 
 
 Trim. Stand bye a while ! I must reward his 
 virtues. 
 Sir, will you please t'inlarge your disposition, 
 T'accept a courtesy to bind me to you. 
 
 Aid. I do not use to sell my liberty, 
 But that I see your face promise true bounty. 
 
 Trim. Have you skill in the face, sir 1 
 
 Aid. I were not fit else to be sty I'd traveller. 
 
 Trim. How do you "find my looks inclin'd to State 1 
 
 Aut. Sir, you have won me to power out of my 
 thoughts, 
 And I must tell you plain they are too loose, 
 Too scattered to pretend such an acumen, 
 Too much displayed, and smooth. You must ha' 
 
 quirks 
 And strange meanders in your face t'express 
 A State subtilty. I'll make it plain 
 Hereafter by demonstration in the optics. 
 
 Trim. Who would have lost the opportunity 
 Of getting such a friend? Came you from 
 Holland ? 
 
 Aut. Yes, very lately. 
 
 Trim. Pray what news from Holland t 
 
 Aut. Holland's beleasrured ! 
 
 Trim. What, all Holland beleaguered 1 
 
 Aut. And will hold out as long as Busse or 
 Boloign, 
 They have their moat and drawbridge. I have 
 
 given them 
 Besides a draught of a fortification,
 
 30 HOLLAND'S LEAGUER. 
 
 Will hold them play this twelvemonth for they keep 
 Their passage open, and want no supplies, 
 For whosoever comes, they pay them soundly. 
 The French have made many onslaughts upon them 
 And still been foil'd. 
 
 Trim. Is there such hot service there ? 
 
 Aid. Crossing the lines a bath to it ! I had like 
 Been scorcht to death by the intemperature 
 Of the climate, 'tis the only Zona Torrida 
 In the whole microcosm of man or woman, 
 If you shall once come near the height of it 
 'Twill melt you like lightning. 
 
 Trim. Shall's build a sconce there 1 
 
 Aid. If you please. 
 
 Trim. Agreed ! Who is the leader of these fac- 
 tious troops 1 
 
 Aid. A woman ! 
 
 Trim. How ! a woman 1 
 Now r by this hand an Amazonian, 
 A Tomarus,* a right Penthisile.f 
 I'll view this leaguer by this light, and swim 
 Like a Leander o'er the Hellespont 
 That shall divide me from these heroines. 
 
 Agu. 'Tis well resolved ! you are not married, sir 1 
 
 Trim. No, pox ! I know them too well for that ! 
 I can use them for recreation or so. 
 
 Agu. What think you of a rich widow 1 
 
 Trim. I'll none of them ! 
 They are like old clothes that have been worn. 
 
 Agu. I like you, that you care not for such relics ; 
 But yet I think I have a match will fit you. 
 An orphan, a young heir that has some thousands, 
 Besides her possibilities, if you 
 Can win her she is at her own disposing. 
 
 * Tmarus. A soldier, in Virgil. 
 
 + Penthesilea, an amazonian queen, slain by Achilles, or, as 
 some say, by Pyrrhus. — Virg. ^En. i. 495.
 
 HOLLAND'S LEAGUER. 31 
 
 There's one that knows her. 
 
 Trim. By instinct, it may be. 
 
 Aut. But for the pattern of true modesty, 
 'Tis seldom known, riches and virtue meet 
 In such a mixture. 
 
 Trim. Will you bring me to her 1 
 
 Agu. Ay, and perhaps persuade her to't, you know 
 not. 
 Let us secure this business first of all, 
 And then we'll meet at the Leaguer. 
 
 Aut. 'Tis good counsel. 
 
 Trim. And I'll confirm 
 All with a jointure. 
 
 Agu. Well, 'tis done. 
 I'll tell you more of her ; she is one 
 Whose tender years have not yet aspired 
 The height of wickedness, but may be brought 
 To commit venery in her own language, 
 And be content with one man ; has not robbed 
 Young boys of their voices, knows not her flights 
 And doubles, nor her labyrinths, through which 
 The Minotaur, her husband, shall ne'er track her, 
 Cannot indite with art nor give a censure 
 Upon the lines are sent her, has no agents, 
 No factors, pensioners, or champions, 
 Nor has her tears fixed in their station, 
 To flow at her command, and so confirm 
 Her perjury ; not large in her expense, nor one 
 That when she is dressed will call a conventicle 
 Of young and old to pass their judgments on her, 
 As if her life were guaged upon the matter. 
 Nor carries an Ephemerides about with her, 
 To which she ascribes your forked destiny ; 
 Nor is her body crazy, neither takes she 
 Physic for state, nor will rise up at midnight 
 To eat her oysters, and drink wine till lust 
 Dance in her veins, and till the house turns round 

 
 32 HOLLAND'S LEAGUER. 
 
 And she discern not 'twixt her head and tail ; 
 
 Nor holdeth strange intelligence abroad 
 
 To furnish her discourse with, neither takes she 
 
 Her journey once a year to th' Bath, nor is 
 
 So learned as to judge betwixt your poets 
 
 Which of them writes best and fluent, nor yet 
 
 Is grown an antiquary, to decide 
 
 Matters in heraldry ; she has no fucus 
 
 To catch your lips like birdlime, nor yet uses 
 
 Restoratives more than the help of nature. 
 
 I'll speak the noblest words I can, of you ; 
 
 So many women on a mere report 
 
 Do fall in love with men before they see them. 
 
 Trim. Nay, when I see her I am sure of her. 
 I have a little haste, I am to meet 
 A Countess at th' Exchange within this hour ; 
 Besides I have a catalogue of business, 
 If I could think on't. So I take my leave. 
 Farewell, gentlemen. 
 
 Aut. Farewell, sir ! 
 
 Agu. Farewell, sweet Monsieur Coxcomb ! 
 This wench I so commended is my daughter, 
 And if my skill not fails me, her I'll make 
 A stale, to take this courtier in a freak. 
 
 Act II. Scene II. 
 Fidelio, Faustina. 
 
 Fid. Is there no means t'absolve you of your 
 oath 1 
 The blame on me, let the bright day no longer 
 Envy the darkness that conceals such beauty. 
 You are no votary, and yet force your youth 
 To such a strict and solitary life, 
 Which others, bound by vow, cannot perform. 
 I wonder at the temper of your blood,
 
 HOLLAND'S LEAGUER. 33 
 
 So differing from your sex, when your old women 
 Do burn with lustful thoughts as with a fever, 
 Yet you go on in the old track of virtue, 
 Now over-grown with seeds of vice. 
 
 Fau. Sweet, hear me ! 
 It is a penance that I live reserved, 
 Because my love to you was made abortive ; 
 But when due time shall perfect in her womb, 
 And bring it forth anew unto the birth, 
 I will surrender up myself and it 
 To your dispose. Let it suffice the while, 
 I am no haunter of your public meetings, 
 No entertainer nor no visitor ; 
 Nor did I ever trust my Avand'ring eyes 
 To view the glittering vanity of the world, 
 Nor ever yet did sit a guilty witness 
 To a lascivious and untuned discourse, 
 Sounding to their fantastic actions. 
 
 Fid. But I must beg one favour at your hands, 
 And suffer no repulse. 
 Fan. What is't 1 
 
 Fid. It may offend you. 
 
 Fau. It shall not. 
 
 Fid. Then know that I have boasted of your 
 beauty ; 
 Nay more, exposed thy virtues to the trial. 
 
 Fau. You have not prostituted them on stalls, 
 To have the vulgar fingers sweat upon them, 
 As they do use upon your plays and pamphlets ? 
 Fid. I am engaged to bring a Lord to see you. 
 Fau. A Lord ] 
 
 Fid. And you must use all art for his content, 
 With music, songs, and dancing, such as are 
 The stirrers of hot apetites. 
 
 Fau. Prophane 
 And idle wretch, to cast away thy hopes 
 Upon a pandarly profession ! 
 
 C
 
 34 HOLLAND'S LEAGUER. 
 
 Or didst thou think that I could he corrupted 
 To personate a strumpet's dalliance 1 
 I grieve for thee. Begone ! henceforth I'll live 
 Immured for ever, as an anchorist, 
 From him and thee, since thou hast wrong' d my 
 love. 
 
 Fid. Mistake me not, the difference 'twixt the 
 poles 
 Is not so great as betwixt me and baseness : 
 Nor is't a sinister intent to make 
 Your favours stale and common as a drug, 
 Which are so dear to me, that both the Indies 
 Are not of equal value to engross, 
 But for a noble and peculiar end. 
 
 Fan. This seems to me a paradox. 
 
 Fid. 'Tis true. 
 
 Fau. If it be so, 'tis granted ! speak it free. 
 
 Fid. Then if it please you to grant relief 
 To my desires, take them in brief ; 
 I would have you first express 
 All the skill that comeliness 
 Can invent, to make you seem 
 Fair and pleasant, as love's Queen, 
 When she Anchises came to kiss 
 On the banks of Simois. 
 Call the graces, and suborn 
 Them thy beauty to adorn, 
 Thy face the table where love writes 
 A thousand stories of delights : 
 Make it all over, smooth and plain, 
 But see you shadow it with disdain, 
 Weave a net out of thy hair, 
 A subtle net that may ensnare 
 Such fond souls as shall aspire 
 To come near the holy fire 
 Of thine eyes, which were of late 
 By Cupid's torch illuminate.
 
 Holland's leaguer. 35 
 
 Use all the delusive art 
 That may captivate his heart. 
 
 Fail. What's your intent in this 1 
 
 Fid. I'll have him punished ! 
 He casts aspersions of disloyalty 
 On all your sex, and you shall vindicate them 
 When he is plunged in love irrevocable, 
 As conquered by thy all-subduing look ; 
 Then you shall bind him to conditions, 
 As I shall first instruct you, shall redeem 
 Him from his folly and next clear your honour. 
 
 Fau. Your will's a law, and shall not be with- 
 stood, 
 When my ill's quited with another's good. 
 
 Act II. Scene III. 
 Agurtes, Autolicus, Margery. 
 
 Agu. Margery, go call your mistress ! 
 
 Aut. What is she 1 
 
 Agu. My daughter's maid, a wench fit for the 
 purpose, 
 Cunning as a whore. Besides, I have provided 
 A bed and hangings, and a casting bottle,* 
 And once a day a doctor to visit her. 
 
 Enter Millescent. 
 
 Millescent, come hither ! know this gentleman. 
 Captain, here lies our venter, this is she, 
 The rich Antonio's daughter, the great heir 
 And niece to the grand Sophies of the city ; 
 That has been wooed and sued to by great Lords, 
 Aldermen's sons, and agents of all sorts. 
 
 "O v 
 
 * A bottle used for sprinkling perfumes, introduced about 
 the middle of the sixteenth Century. — Also called a " casting- 
 glass," in Ben Jonson, and Privy-purse expenses of Queen 
 Mary.
 
 36 Holland's leaguer. 
 
 Thus we have spoke thy praise, wench — has not 
 
 seen 
 The man she likes yet, but her fortunes may 
 Ordain her to some better choice, to the making 
 Of some deserving man, which must needs be 
 Trimalchio and no other ; how lik'st thou her 1 
 
 Aid. Hang me, so well, I think you may go on 
 In a right line, she is worthy of a better : 
 Few of your modern faces are so good. 
 
 Agu. That's our comfort, she may put a good 
 face on't. 
 
 Mil. Let me alone, sir, to be impudent, 
 To laugh them out of countenance, look skirvy, 
 As a citizen's daughter new turned Madam. 
 
 Marg. I warrant you, sir, my mistress and I 
 Have practised our liripoop* together. 
 
 Agu. Thou must insinuate strange things into 
 her, 
 Both of her virtue and nobility, 
 The largeness of her dowry, besides jewels, 
 Th' expected death of her old grandmother 
 That has a blessing for her, if she marry 
 According to her mind, keep him at distance, 
 Make him believe 'tis hard to have access, 
 And wait the happy hour, to be let in 
 At the back door. 
 
 Marg. Aye, and the fore-door too. 
 
 Ant. Thou hast a noble wit, and spirit, wench, 
 That never was ordained for any skinkardt 
 T' engender with, or mechanic citizen, 
 Unless it were to cuckold him ; thou shalt 
 Be still i' th' front of any fashion, 
 
 * In the present instance, " liripoop " may be considered 
 synonymous with the modern cant term, " a lark " — a piece of 
 fun. — " Practised our liripoop " — seen life. 
 
 "There's agirle that knows her lerripoope" 
 
 Lillys Mother Bombie. 
 t Tapster.
 
 HOLLAND'S LEAGUER. 37 
 
 And have thy several gowns and tires, take place, 
 It is thy own, from all the city wives 
 And summer birds in town, that once a year 
 Come up to moulter, and then go down to th' 
 
 country 
 To jeer their neighbours, as they have been served. 
 
 Agu. Nay more, if you can act it handsomely, 
 You'll put a period to my undertakings, 
 And save me all my labour of projecting, 
 As putting out my money on return, 
 From aqua pendente, or some unknown place 
 That has as much ado to get a room 
 I' th' map as a new Saint i' th' kalender. 
 'Twill dead all my device in making matches, 
 My plots of architecture and erecting 
 New amphitheatres, to draw the custom 
 From playhouses once a week, and so pull 
 A curse upon my head from the poor scoundrels. 
 'Twill hinder too the gain of courtiers, 
 Put on by me to beg monopolies, 
 To have a fixed share in the business. 
 Nor need I trample up and down the country, 
 To cheat with a Polonian, or false rings, 
 Nor keep a tap-house o' th' Bank side, and make 
 A stench worse than a brevvhouse, 'mongst my 
 
 neighbours, 
 Till I am grown so poor, that all my goods 
 Are shipt away i'th bottom of a sculler. 
 And then be driven t' inhabit some blind nook 
 I' th' suburbs, and my utmost refuge be 
 To keep a bawdy house, and be carted. 
 
 Mil. Ne'er fear, sir. 
 
 Agu. 'Tis well ! speak for thyself, girl. 
 
 Mil. If I do not, let me be turned to ashes 
 And they be buried in an urn so shallow, 
 That boys may piss into it. Let me deal 
 In nothing else but making sugar cakes,
 
 38 HOLLAND'S LEAGUER. 
 
 Ointments and dentifrices. Let me serve 
 Seven years' apprenticeship, and learn nothing else. 
 But to preserve and candy. Let me marry 
 With a pedant, and have no other dowry 
 Than an old cast French hood. Let me live 
 The scorn of chambermaids, and, after all, 
 Turn a dry-nurse. 
 
 Aut. You shall have trophies, wenches, 
 Set up for you in honour of your wits, 
 More than Herculean pillars, to advance 
 Your fame to a non ultra, that whoever 
 Shall read your history may not attempt 
 To go beyond it. 
 
 Agu. Well, prepare yourselves 
 To entertain him ! 
 
 Aut. Faith ! you need not doubt them 
 To manage the business. 
 
 Mil. Let us alone ! 
 
 Agu. We leave the charge to your discretion. 
 
 Act II. Scene IV. 
 
 Enter Triphcena and Quartilla. 
 
 Quar. Madam, in troth this grief does not be- 
 come you, 
 'Tis an ill-dressing for so good a face, 
 Yet you pursue it with such eagerness, 
 As if you were ambitiously sad. 
 'Tis some invincible malignity 
 Makes her untractable, deaf to all comfort. 
 What might I guess the cause of this disaster ? 
 Her monkey and her dog are both in health, 
 I thank my providence ! only her monkey 
 Is a little costive, but I'll physic him. 
 Sure her intelligence arrived too late 
 About the last new fashion, or the crime
 
 Holland's leaguer. 39 
 
 Lies in the sempster, or it must needs be 
 
 Some other grand solecism in her tailor, 
 
 What if it prove a capital offence 
 
 Committed by the tire-woman 1 but I believe 
 
 Some skirvy lady put it in her head, 
 
 To practice a State melancholy, that first 
 
 Begins in an imperious revolt, 
 
 And frowning, and contempt of her own husband, 
 
 And what she might recover by the law 
 
 In case of separation, or a nullity, 
 
 Which she already has took council of : 
 
 Come, it is so ? 
 
 Tri. Nay, tell me now, Quartilla, 
 Can I behold the current of that love 
 Should flow to me with a prodigious course, 
 Run back to his own head, to have a husband 
 That should grow old in admiration 
 Of the rare choice he made in me, at last, 
 As if there were a barrenness and want 
 Of my perfections, dote upon himself ? 
 I could plot against him ! pri'thee, Quartilla, 
 How long hast thou been chaste 1 
 
 Quar. This chastity 
 Is quite out of date, a mere absolute thing, 
 Clean out of use, since I was first a maid. 
 Why do I say a maid 1 Let Juno plague me, 
 If I remember it, for I began 
 Betimes, and so progrest from less to bigger, 
 From boys to lads, and, as I grew in years, 
 I writ my venery in a larger volume. 
 
 Tri. Where's my brother 1 
 
 Quar. With his tutor, forsooth. 
 
 Tri. I think that dull Prometheus was asleep 
 When he did form him. Had he but so much 
 As the least spark of salt that is in me, 
 He would see me righted. 
 
 Quar. He is very obtuse,
 
 40 HOLLAND'S LEAGUER. 
 
 And so are many of your elder brothers. 
 I carried all the wit from mine. When I 
 Was young, I'd have looked a captain in the face, 
 Answered him in the dialogue, and have stood 
 On tiptoe to have kissed him. But for your brother, 
 Do not despair, good madam ! what although 
 His breeding be a little coarse, he may be 
 A Lord in's time, now he has means enough ? 
 
 Tri. I sent for him up hither to that purpose ; 
 Put yet I am ashamed to have him seen, 
 Or show him publicly. 
 
 Quar. You have provided 
 A tutor to instruct him, a rare man, 
 One that has poisoned me with eloquence, 
 I fear he will make my belly swell with it. 
 
 Tri. Go call the novice hither, and his tutor ! 
 
 [Exit Quartilla. 
 And now I think on't, Mr Trimalchio 
 Shall take him strait to Court with him, to learn 
 And imitate his fashions, suck from him 
 The quintessence of education. 
 He is the only man I know, and for 
 His face, it is the abstract of all beauty. 
 Nor does his voice sound mortal ; I could dwell 
 For ever on his lip, his very speech 
 Would season a tragedy : nay more, there is 
 A natural grace in all his actions. 
 
 Act II. Scene V. 
 Enter Triphcena, Quartilla, Capritio, and 
 
 MlSCELLANIO. 
 
 Tri. What, are you come 1 Tis well, advance 
 yet forward ! 
 We ever told you what a hateful vice 
 This bashfulness was counted.
 
 Holland's leaguer. 41 
 
 Quar. You forget 
 The theorems we 'told you. Lord, how often 
 Shall we enforce these documents upon you 1 
 
 Cap. May not a man buy a brazen lace, think you, 
 Among all this company 1 
 
 Quar. By no means, 
 Your tradesmen will not part with them; there are 
 Many i'th' city have such furniture, 
 But they do keep them for their own wearing. 
 
 Mis. Stand bye a while, let me salute these 
 ladies ! 
 Hail to these twins of honour and of beauty. 
 
 Quar. Sir, you transgress in your opinion, 
 If you consider both ; alas, my beauty 
 Is much exhausted. 
 
 Mis. Lady, you are deceived, 
 For you are amiable, or else I have 
 In vain so often exercised my judgment 
 In the distinction of faces. 
 
 Quar. I shall 
 Be proud to be so seated in your favour. 
 
 Tri. But tell me, Signiour Miscellanio, 
 What think you of your pupil ] 
 
 Mis. Troth, I found him 
 As rude as any chaos, so confus'd 
 I knew not which way to distinguish him. 
 He seemed to me, not to participate 
 Of any gentle nature ; never, I think, 
 To fashion out a Mercury with such 
 A crooked piece of timber, was attempted 
 By a true traveller : but I hope in time 
 To rectify him, for labor vincit omnia. 
 
 Tri. Does he come on well, is there any hope 
 He will receive his true dye, his right tincture ] 
 
 Mis. I warrant you, that I'll make him in time 
 A perfect cavaliero : he shall wear 
 His clothes as well, and smell as rank as they,
 
 42 HOLLAND'S LEAGUER. 
 
 And court his mistress, and talk idly : that's 
 As much as can be required in a true gallant 
 T'approve him one : nay, more too, he shall dance 
 And do the half pomado,* play at gleek,f 
 And promise more than e'er he will perform, 
 And ne'er part with a penny to a tradesman 
 Till he has beat him for't : shall walk the streets 
 As gingerly as if he feared to hurt 
 The ground he Avent on, whilst his cast down eye 
 Holds commerce with his leg : shall utter nothing 
 AVhate'er he thinks, yet swear't whate'er it be. 
 Nay more, he shall vow love to all he sees, 
 And damn himself to make them believe it, 
 Shall fawn on all men, yet let his friend perish, 
 For what he spends in one day on his punk 
 For coach-hire. These are special properties, 
 And must be often practised to remember, 
 He shall never rise till it be ten o'clock, 
 And so be ready against dinner-time. 
 
 Cap. 'Slight ! and my father had not been an ass, 
 I might have been able to have writ this down. 
 
 Tri. Pray let me hear how he has profited. 
 
 Mis. Salute these ladies as you were instructed. 
 You must conceive the coldness of his courtship 
 As yet points but one way ; you may suppose it 
 To his disdainful mistress, when he shall come to 
 The cape de bone speranza of her love, 
 He may vary like the compass of his compliment. 
 
 Cap. Lady, the fates have led me to your service 
 To know myself unworthy of your favours. 
 You let me so far win upon your bounty, 
 That what I utter in humility 
 May not cause my contempt, or have my love 
 
 * Vaulting on a horse without the aid of stirrups. 
 
 + A game of cards, played by three persons with forty-four 
 cards, each hand having twelve, and eight being left for the 
 stock. A gleek was three of the same cards in one hand 
 together.
 
 HOLLAND'S LEAGUER. 43 
 
 Shak'd off because 'tis ripe, but let me hang by 
 The stalk of your mercy ; the remnant of whose 
 
 life 
 Lies in your power. 
 
 Mis. Your oath now to confirm it, 
 If she should chance to doubt or press you to it. 
 
 Cap. That's true indeed. By the structure of 
 your breasts, 
 And by the silken knot that ties your hair 
 Upon the top of your crown, I protest it. 
 
 Quar. If he can persevere, 'tis excellent. 
 
 Enter Tkimalchio. 
 
 Trim. Where be these noble ladies 1 
 
 Tri. Sir, you are come in the most happy hour ! 
 I was wishing for you. 
 
 Trim. I am in haste, 
 And only come to see you : there's a banquet 
 Stands ready on the table, and the Lords 
 Swear they will not sit down, until I come. 
 
 Tri. You still are in such haste when you come 
 hither. 
 
 Trim. I think I must retire myself ; I am 
 So sued and sought to where I come, I am grown 
 Even weary of their loves. Last night at a masque, 
 When none could be admitted, I was led in 
 By the hand, by a great Lord, that shall be nameless, 
 And now this morning early, in his chamber, 
 A fencer would needs play with me at foils ; 
 I hit him in three places, and disarmed him. 
 
 Quar. Why, now my dream is out ! I lay last 
 night 
 Upon my back, and was adream'd of fighting. 
 
 Tri. Sir, will you please to know these gentle- 
 men 1 
 My brother and his tutor. 
 
 Trim. I must crave pardon,
 
 44 HOLLAND'S LEAGUER. 
 
 Is this your brother % 
 
 Tri. Yes. 
 
 Trim. I must embrace him. 
 I never saw a man, in all my life, 
 I so affected on the sudden. Sure 
 There's some nobility does lurk within him 
 That's not perspicuous to every eye : 
 He promises so fair, I should have known him 
 To be your brother, had you not told me so. 
 
 Mis. Your method now of thanks. 
 
 Cap. Eight noble sir, 
 I have so often times been honoured 
 And so much madefied — 
 
 Quur. That word I taught him. 
 
 Cap. With the distilling influence of yourbounty, 
 That I must blame myself and my hard fortune, 
 That has envied me the ability 
 To render satisfaction. 
 
 Mis. Very well. 
 
 Tri. Sir, you must pardon him ! he is but a 
 novice, 
 Newly initiated, and 'tis his fault, 
 That he is bashful. 
 
 Trim. Is that all 1 I'll take him 
 To court with me, where he shall be acquainted 
 With pages, laundresses, and waiting-women, 
 Shall teach him impudence enough. 
 
 Tri. 'Tis my desire. 
 
 Quar. His tutor has taught him the theory, 
 Only he wants the practike. 
 
 Trim. I pray you, sir, 
 Without offence, may I demand of you, 
 What do you profess 1 
 
 Mis. Why, sir, anything 
 Within the compass of humanity ; 
 To speak or act, no Pythagorean 
 Could ever think upon so many shapes
 
 Holland's leaguer. 45 
 
 As I will put you in ; the French, the Spanish, 
 Or the Italian garb — not any one 
 But jointly all. I'll make a perfect man 
 Out of the shreds of them. 
 
 Quar. Besides the riding 
 Of the great mare ; nay, sir, his very carvings, 
 Even to the dissecting of a capon, 
 Are lectures of anatomy. 
 
 Trim. I shall 
 Be proud to know him. 
 
 Mis. Now I collect myself, 
 Sure I have seen you, sir, in Padua, 
 Or some face near like yours. 
 
 Trim. I have indeed 
 Received letters of invitation 
 From one that's son to a Magnifico, 
 Who is informed that I am very like him. 
 
 Mis. There was the mistake then. 
 
 Trim. Sir, had I power 
 O'er my occasions, which now are urgent, 
 I would most willingly employ the time 
 In survey of your virtues. 
 
 Mis. Sir, it has been 
 The scope I ever aimed at in my travels 
 To seek out and converse with such as have 
 With foreign observations advanced 
 Their natural endowments, and I thank 
 My stars I have been ever fortunate 
 To be beloved amongst them, and that you 
 Are one I make no question. 
 
 Trim. Sir, you need not. 
 
 Mis. My mind was ever larger than to be 
 Comprised within the limits of my country. 
 And I congratulate my fate, in that 
 I come so near the virtue of that planet 
 That ruled at my nativity : whose nature, 
 Which e'er it be, is ever to be wand'ring.
 
 46 HOLLAND'S LEAGUER. 
 
 Trim. Sir, I must be abrupt, but for my promise 
 Unto some noble friends that do expect me, 
 I could not easily be drawn away 
 From one in whom so many several graces 
 Are so apparent, therefore I entreat you 
 Not to impute it to my lack of judgment, 
 Or neglect of your worth. 
 
 Mis. By no means, sir. 
 Friendship is turned into an injury 
 When it usurps authority, conceive me, 
 O'er a friend's business ; some other time 
 Shall serve to give a mutual testimony 
 Of love between us, and how much I honour you. 
 
 Quar. When will you do this 1 
 
 Cap. I am practising. 
 
 Triph. Prithee, Quartilla, help me stave them 
 off. 
 Although they have no mercy on themselves 
 Yet we must use some conscience. 
 
 Quar. Gentlemen, 
 You'll break your wits with stretching them. For- 
 bear, 
 I beseech you ! 
 
 Trim. My wit it never fails me, 
 I have it at a certainty : I'll set it 
 To run so many hours, and, when 'tis down, 
 I can wind it up like a watch. But I fear 
 I have deceived the time too long. Ladies, 
 I'll take my leave of your fair beauties. You have 
 No service to enjoin 1 
 
 Triph. You'll take my brother 
 Capritio with you. 
 
 Trim. If he please, and his tutor. 
 
 Mis. My suffrage shall consent to anything 
 Her ladyship approves. 
 
 Quar. You must remember 
 You prove not refractory to your discipline,
 
 HOLLAND'S LEAGUER. 47 
 
 'Twill be much for your improvement. 
 
 Trim. I'll bring him 
 Unto a captain, shall set both our faces 
 To look like the very Janus of a statesman, 
 And so farewell. Come, sir ! 
 
 [Exeunt Trimalchio, Capritio. 
 
 Triph. I told you, Signiour, 
 What a rare man he was. 
 
 Mis. In all my travels 
 I have not met the like ; not any one 
 Was so mellifluous in his discourse. 
 I think when he was young, some swarm of bees 
 Did light upon his lips, as it was fained 
 Of Hesiod. 
 
 Triph. Let's in, for I shall mourn 
 And melancholy be till his return. 
 
 Act III. Scene I. 
 
 Philautus, Ardelio. 
 
 Phil. Ardelio, we are now alone, come tell me 
 Truly, how does the vulgar voice pass on me 1 
 
 Ard. Why sir, the shallow currents of their 
 brains 
 Bun all into one stream, to make a deep, 
 To bear the mighty burden of your fame. 
 
 Phil. And 'tis all true they say 1 
 
 Ard. That you are most fair, 
 A most exact, accomplished, gentle Lord, 
 Not to be contradicted, 'tis a truth 
 Above all truths, for where is any truth, 
 That is agreed upon by all, but this 1 
 
 Phil. Such is the force of beauty, there is no- 
 thing 
 Can please without it, and whoever has it,
 
 48 Holland's leaguer. 
 
 As there be few, is adjudged happy in it. 
 
 Ard. All this is true. 
 
 Phil. Then he that has a pure 
 And sublim'd beauty, 'tis a thing sensible, 
 And cannot be denied, must be admired, 
 And free from all detraction. 
 
 Ard. This is true. 
 
 Phil. He that excels in valour, wit, or honour, 
 He that is rich or virtuous, may be envied, 
 But love is the reward of beauty : no object 
 Surprises more the eye, all that delight us. 
 We ascribe beauty to it. 
 
 Ard. All this is true, 
 
 Phil. Look high or low ! 'tis true. Why are the 
 stars 
 Fixed in their orbs, but to adorn the heavens 1 
 And we adore their beauty more than light. 
 Look on the arts, how they tend all to beauty, 
 'Tis their only end. He that builds a house 
 Strives not so much for use as ornament, 
 Nor does your orator compose a speech 
 With lesser care to have it elegant 
 Than moving ; and your limner does observe 
 The trim, and dress, more than the rules of 
 painting. 
 
 Ard. All truth, and oracles. 
 
 Phil. Look on a fair ship, 
 And you will say 'tis very beautiful. 
 A General rejoices in the title 
 Of a fair army. I'll come nearer to you ; 
 Who were thought worthy to be deified, 
 But such as were found beautiful 1 For this cause, 
 Jove took up Ganymede from Ida hill 
 To fill him wine and go a hunting with him. 
 
 Ard. 'Tis too much truth to be spoke at one 
 time. 
 
 Phil. It shall suffice, but yet you know that man
 
 Holland's leaguer. 49 
 
 May safely venture to go on his way, 
 That is so guided, that he cannot stray. 
 
 Enter Fidelio. 
 
 How now ! hast thou obtained in thy request 1 
 
 Fid. I have with much entreaty gained your 
 admittance. 
 
 Phil. Let me embrace my better genius. 
 
 Fid. I do not use the profession. 
 
 Phil. Tis an art 
 
 Will make thee thrive ; will she be coy enough 1 
 To tell you true, I take a more delight 
 In the perplexity of wooing them, 
 Than the enjoying. 
 
 Fid. She is as I told you. 
 
 Phil. If she be otherwise than I conceive, 
 A pox on the augury. 
 
 Fid. But hark you, sir, 
 
 You need not be known who you are. 
 
 Phil. For that, 
 
 Trust to my care ; come, let us go about it ! 
 Some men may term it lust, but, if it hit, 
 The better part shall be ascribed to wit. 
 
 Act III. Scene II. 
 
 Trimalchio, Capritio, Agurtes, Autolicus. 
 
 Trim. How goes our matters forward ? 
 
 Agu. Very well, sir, 
 
 For I have made your entrance open ; told her 
 All that I can to grace you, that you are 
 Exactly qualified, unparalleled, 
 For your rare parts of mind and body, full 
 Of rare bounty, and that she likes best in you. 
 She holds it a good argument you will 
 Maintain her well hereafter, marry else 
 
 D
 
 50 Holland's leaguer. 
 
 She is natural covetous, but that's 
 A point of housewivery, she does not care 
 You should spend much upon yourself, and can 
 Dispense with house keeping, so you allow her 
 To keep her state, her coach, and the fashion ; 
 These things she means to article beforehand. 
 I tell you what you must trust to. 
 
 Trim. Very well, sir. 
 
 Agu. Now see that you be circumspect, and fail 
 not 
 In the least circumstance ; you may do somewhat 
 Extraordinary, at the first meeting. 
 For when she has conceived of your good nature, 
 The less will be expected. 
 
 Trim. Why, the captain 
 
 Has put me in a form. 
 
 Agu. Of words he has, 
 
 But you must do the deeds. 
 
 Trim. Ay, so I will ! 
 
 For look you, sir, T have the several graces 
 Of four nations, in imitation 
 Of the four elements, that make a man 
 Concur to my perfection. 
 
 Agu. As how 1 
 
 Trim. I am in my compliment, an Italian, 
 In my heart a Spaniard, 
 In my disease a Frenchman, 
 And in mine appetite an Hungarian. 
 
 Agu. All these are good and commendable 
 things 
 In a Companion, but your subtle women 
 Take not a man's desert on trust, they must 
 See and feel something. What you give her now, 
 You make her but the keeper, 'tis your own, 
 You win her by it ; I should be loth to see you 
 Out-done with courtesies : what if some gull, 
 That has more land than you, should interpose it,
 
 Holland's leaguer. 51 
 
 And make eclipse between you 1 Tis a fear ! 
 Therefore you must be sudden and dispatch it, 
 For she is ticklish as any haggard, 
 And quickly lost ; she is very humoursome. 
 
 Trim. I'll fit her then ! I am as humoursome 
 As herself, I have all the four humours. 
 
 J am hot, I am cold. 
 
 I am dry, and I am moist. 
 
 Agu. I must be like the Satyr, then, and leave 
 you, 
 If you are hot and cold. 
 Trim. you mistake me. 
 
 I am hot in my ambition, 
 I am dry in my jests, 
 I am cold in my charity, 
 And moist in my luxury. 
 
 Aid, Sir, for the gentlewoman that is with her, 
 Not so much in the nature of a servant 
 As her companion ; for 'tis the fashion 
 Amongst your great ones, to have those wait on 
 
 them 
 As good as themselves. She is the sole daughter 
 To a great knight, and has an ample dowry. 
 Apply yourself to her, though it be nothing 
 Else but to practice courtship, and to keep you 
 From sleep and idleness. 
 
 Cap. I shall be ruled 
 
 By you in anything. 
 
 Aut. You shall not do 
 
 Amiss then. What 1 You may get her good will, 
 And then object it to your friends ; you can 
 Advance yourself without their counsel. 
 
 Cap. Counsel 1 
 
 1 still scorned that. 
 
 Trim. Captain, a word with you ;
 
 52 Holland's leaguer. 
 
 "Were I not best look like a statesman, think you 1 
 
 Aut. What, to a woman 1 'twere a solecism 
 In nature, for you know Cupid's a boy, 
 And would you tire him like a senator, 
 And put a declamation in his mouth 1 
 'Twere a mere madness in you ! Here they come ! 
 See what a majesty she bears. Go meet her ! 
 
 Act III. Scene III. 
 
 Trimalchio, Capritio, Agurtes, Autolicus, 
 Milliscent, Margery. 
 
 Trim. Stand by ! it is my happiness invites me. 
 that I could appear like Jupiter 
 Unto his Semele. 
 
 Agn. Why, would you burn her 1 
 
 Trim. Yes, with my love I would. Most luculent 
 lady, 
 After the late collection of my spirits, 
 Lost in the admiration of your beauty, 
 Let me crave pardon. 
 
 Milk. Sir, for what 1 
 
 Trihn. My boldness. 
 
 Mile. I apprehend none. 
 
 Trim. You must pardon me, 
 
 For I am jealous of the least digression: 
 And you may justly frown. 
 
 Mille. I should be loth 
 
 To acknowledge so much from you. 
 
 Trim. Lady, you have those fair additions 
 Of wealth and parentage, join'd to your virtues, 
 That I may justly suspect your disdain. 
 But, by my hopes, I do not court your fortunes, 
 But you. 
 
 Mille. Believe me, no deserving man 
 Shall be the less esteemed for that, where I find
 
 Holland's leaguer. 53 
 
 Ability to govern what I bring him, 
 
 'Tis that I value : things that are without me, 
 
 I count them not my own. 
 
 Trim. 'Tis a speech, lady, 
 
 Worthy an Empress. I am a made man, 
 Since you have cleared the heaven of your brow : 
 Now by that light I swear, a brighter day 
 Ne'er broke upon me. 
 
 Agu. Sir, I hope this lady 
 Shall have no cause to repent your admittance ) 
 
 MiUe. Sir, for my part, since virtue is my guard, 
 I do not only keep my doors still open, 
 But my breast too, for gentlemen of merit. 
 
 Trim. Now by this air, that does report your 
 voice 
 With a sound more than mortal; by your fair eyes, 
 And as I hope to be enrolled your servant, 
 I honour the meanest stitch in your garment. 
 
 Milk. I would not wish you place your love 
 upon 
 A thing so mean, so likely to be cast off. 
 
 Trim. divine counsel ! that so rare a beauty 
 Should mix with wisdom : these words are not 
 
 lost. 
 I am your slave for ever. I'll go hire 
 Six poets to sing your praise, and I myself 
 Will be the seventh to make up the consort. 
 
 Aut. You see your friend there, Mr Trimalchio, 
 Is like to speed, and fairly on his way 
 To much happiness. I would not willingly 
 That any should miscarry in a plot 
 That I have a hand in : You must be sudden 
 I told you, if you meant to be a favourite 
 To fortune and your mistress, and be bold. 
 
 Cap. If I had spoke to her, the brunt were past. 
 
 Aut. Aye, then the ice were broke ; now she 
 makes towards you !
 
 54 HOLLAND'S LEAGUER. 
 
 'Tis the best time, let no occasion slip. 
 
 Cap. Lady, advance the pinnacle of your thoughts, 
 And enlarge the quadrangle of your heart, 
 To entertain a man of men. 
 
 Aut. A man 
 
 Of means, sweet lady, that I can assure you. 
 
 Marg. He's so much the more welcome, I assure 
 you. 
 
 Aut. You are welcome by this means, do you 
 mark that 1 
 
 Cap. Some three thousand a-year, or there- 
 abouts. 
 Alas, I value it not, 'twill serve to trifle 
 In pins, and gloves, and toys, and banquets. 
 
 Marg. 'Tis much 
 
 One of such tender years should step so soon 
 Into the world. 
 
 Cap. Indeed, the spring of my courtship 
 Has been somewhat backward, but I will strive 
 To redeem it : I have some seeds a-growing 
 Shall make m' ere long spread like a gentleman, 
 And you shall say so too. 
 
 Marg. I do believe it. 
 
 Cap. Nay, whe'er you do or no, 'tis no great 
 matter. 
 
 Aut. Be not capricious. 
 
 Cap. My name's Capritio. 
 
 There be in town of the Capritios, 
 Come from our house, that shall approve it so. 
 
 Aut. What will you say, if I show you a way 
 To get a general credit 1 
 
 Cap. Can you do it 1 
 
 Aut. I can and will. I'll have you, out of hand, 
 The master of a good horse and a good dog, 
 And be known by them. 
 
 Cap. Will that do it ? 
 
 Aut. Will it 1
 
 Holland's leaguer. 55 
 
 Why, when you once have matched your horse, or 
 
 dog, 
 The adverse party being a man of note, 
 'Twill raise an inquisition after you. 
 " Who's is the horse?" says one, " Mr Capritio's !" 
 " What he 1 " says another, " a noble gentleman ! " 
 'Twill draw the eyes of a whole shire upon you, 
 Besides the citizens that go down to bet. 
 
 Cap. Why, this is rare indeed ! 
 
 Aut. And then 'twill furnish you 
 With fitting discourse for any man's table. 
 A horse and a dog, no better a subject 
 To exercise your tongue in, many ladies 
 Talk in that dialogue ; besides, there being 
 A kind of near relation in the nature 
 Of you and those beasts, the good qualities 
 That are in them may be thought to be yours. 
 
 Cap. I'll buy me a dancing horse that can caper, 
 And have him called Capritio, by my name ! 
 
 Aut. You may do so. 
 
 Cap. Lady, by your leave, I will. 
 
 Mar. Sir, what you please. 
 
 Aut. Her desires go with yours. 
 
 Observe but what a wife she's like to prove, 
 That is no more imperious being a mistress. 
 
 Cap. Brother, come hither ! 
 
 Trim. I am busy here. 
 
 How do you like the fabric of this watch 1 
 
 Mil. Pray, let me see it ! — a rare piece of work ! 
 
 Trim. It cost me twelve pound, by this light, this 
 morning. 
 
 Mil. But that it was so dear I would have begged 
 it. 
 
 Trim. 'Tis at your service, lady. 
 
 Mil. I'll make use of 
 
 Your courtesy, with many thanks, sir. 
 
 Trim. Nay, but
 
 56 HOLLAND'S LEAGUER. 
 
 You must not have it. .' 
 
 Mil. Will you go from your word 1 
 
 Trim. I'll give you as good, but this is none of 
 mine ; 
 By this hand, I borrowed it. 
 
 Mil. You said you bought it. 
 
 Trim. I said so indeed. 
 
 Mil. You should do well to buy you 
 
 A better memory, as I shall hereafter, 
 To keep at distance from you. 
 
 [Exit MiMescerif. 
 
 Agu. Is she gone ? 
 
 Trim. Gone in a fume. 
 
 Agu. How did you anger her 1 
 
 Trim. She would have begged my watch, and I 
 excused it. 
 
 Agu. She beg your watch 1 ? She scorns to beg 
 anything ; 
 She has more than she can tell what to do with. 
 Perhaps she longed for yours, and would receive it 
 As a courtesy. Why would you shew it her 
 Unless you meant to part with it ] 
 
 Trim. I know not : 
 
 I think my wit was cramped. 
 
 Agu. You must ne'er look for 
 The like occasion offered you ; why, this 
 Was such a time to win her love ! a gift 
 Would put her every hour in mind of you. 
 
 Trim. What shall I do 1 
 
 Agu. Best send it after her. 
 
 Trim. Do you carry it ; tell her withall, I'll send 
 her 
 A coach and four horses, to make her amends. 
 
 Agu. Give me the watch ! if I do make all good 
 Will you perform your promise 1 
 
 Trim. By my life ! 
 
 I'll send them without fail immediately.
 
 HOLLAND'S LEAGUER. 57 
 
 Ago,. I'll after her and see what I can do. 
 
 [ Exit Agwtes. 
 
 Cap. Stand for a watch? here, take this diamond ! 
 Nay, do not wrong me, I have sworn you shall, 
 Were it as good as that which was made precious 
 By Berenice's finger, which Agrippa 
 Gave his incestuous sister, you should have it. 
 What ! do you think I am an ass ] No, sir, 
 "lis he has taught me wit. 
 
 Ant. And are you happy, 
 That can be wise by other men's examples ? 
 
 Cap. What ! should I lose my mistress for a toy ? 
 
 Trin. Lead on, good brother ! I am all of a sweat, 
 Until some gale of comfort blow upon me. [Exeunt. 
 
 • Act III. Scene IV. 
 
 Philautus, Fidelio, Faustina. 
 
 Fid. You see that I have brought you to the 
 treasure, 
 And the rich garden of th' Hesperides ; 
 If you can charm those ever watchful eyes 
 That keep the tree, then you may pull the fruit, 
 And, after, glory in the spoil of honour. 
 
 Phil. Prithee, let me alone with her. 
 
 Fid. I'll leave you. [Exit Fidelio. 
 
 Phil. Lady, my preface is to know your name. 
 
 Fan. Faustina, sir. 
 
 Phil. I may be happy in you. 
 
 I have a sister somewhere of that name, 
 That in her youth did promise such a feature, 
 And hopes of future excellence : she had 
 A beauty mixed with majesty, would draw 
 From the beholders love and reverence. 
 And I do ill, methinks, with unchaste thoughts 
 To sin against her memory. This task
 
 58 HOLLAND'S LEAGUER. 
 
 Would I were rid of; but I'll venture. Lady, 
 You are not blind, I conceive. 
 
 Fau. No sir, I have not 
 
 Yet seen a thing so strongly sensible, 
 To hurt my eyesight. 
 
 Phil. Then I hope you can 
 
 Take notice of a gentleman's good parts, 
 Without a periphrasis. 
 
 Fau. What's that ] 
 
 Phil. A figure, 
 
 Needless at this time to explain my deserts, 
 So easy and apparent to be seen. 
 
 Fau. I dare not envy, nor detract, where worth 
 Does challenge due relation of respect : 
 Nor is my wit so curious, to make 
 A gloss or comment on your qualities. 
 
 Phil. 'Tis too much labour, 'twere a task would 
 dull 
 The edge of rhetoric, to describe them rightly ; 
 Nor would I have them dwell upon your tongue, 
 But fixed in your thoughts, there let them move, 
 Till they meet in conjunction with your love ; 
 Nature would boast so sweet a sympathy. 
 
 Fau. I should be sorry, if my understanding 
 Moved in so poor a circle as your praise ; 
 I have not leisure to take notice of it. 
 Is this all you have to say ] 
 
 Phil. No, I have more ; 
 
 But love is slow to dictate to my voavs ; 
 And yet those sacred and divine impulsions 
 Strike truer than my heart, and, by his power 
 That has inflamed me, here I swear I love you. 
 
 Fau. Your oaths and love are made of the same 
 air, 
 Both die in their conception : quickly uttered, 
 And as easily not believed. 
 
 Phil. -Nay, now you wrong
 
 HOLLAND'S LEAGUER. 59 
 
 My true intent. 
 
 Fail. Suppose I grant you love me, 
 What would you infer 1 
 
 Phil. That you should speak the like, 
 And with the same affection. 
 
 Fern. If your love 
 
 Be not a bawd unto some base desire, 
 I do return the like. 
 
 Phil. I know not how 
 
 You may interpret it, but sure the law, 
 And the command of nature, is no baseness, 
 A thing that Jove himself has dignified, 
 And in his rapes confessed the god of love 
 The greater of the two, whom Kings have stooped 
 
 to. 
 "We are allowed to enjoy some stolen delights, 
 So we be secret in't ; for 'tis set down 
 By such as in this art have skilful been, 
 W'are not forbid to act, but to be seen. 
 
 Fau. Upon these terms, I do deny you love me. 
 'Twas lust that flattered sin, made love a god, 
 And, to get freedom for his thefts, they gave 
 Madness the title of a deity. 
 For how can that be love, which seeks the ruin 
 Of his own object, and the thing beloved 1 
 No, true love is pure affection, 
 That gives the soul transparent, and not that 
 That's conversant in beastly appetites. 
 
 Phil. Tell me not of your philosophical love. 
 I am a fool to linger, women's denial 
 Is but easy cruelty, and they 
 Love to be forced sometimes. 
 
 Fau. Pray, know your distance. 
 
 Phil. Come, you dissemble, and you all are willing. 
 
 Fau. To what 1 
 
 Phil. There's none of you but feel the smart 
 Of a libidinous sting ; else wherefore are
 
 60 HOLLAND'S LEAGUER. 
 
 Those baits and strong allurements to entice us 1 
 Wherefore are all your sleekings, and your curlings, 
 Crispings, and paintings, and your shin made soft, 
 And your face smooth with ointments ; then your 
 
 gait 
 Confined to measure, and composed by art, 
 Besides the wanton petulancy of your e}*es, 
 That scatter flames with doubtful motion, 
 Unless it were to prostitute your beauty 1 
 
 Fan. I'll give account for none, sir, but myself, 
 And that I'll speak : before my virgin zone 
 Shall be untied by any unchaste hand, 
 Nature shall suffer dissolution. 
 But whate'er others be, methinks your worth 
 Should not pretend to an ignoble action. 
 
 Phil. Now, by this light, I think you'll moralize 
 me. 
 
 Fau. 'Tis my desire you should go better from 
 me, 
 Than you came hither : you have some good parts 
 But they are all exterior, and these breed 
 A self-conceit, an affectation in you, 
 And what more odious 1 Some applaud you in it, 
 As parasites, but wise men laugh at you. 
 Will you employ those gifts that may commend 
 
 you, 
 And add a grace to goodness, had you any, 
 In the pursuit of vice, that renders you 
 Worthy of nought but pity 1 
 
 Phil. I came as to 
 
 A whore, but shall return as from a saint. 
 
 Fau. Then leave to prosecute the foggy vapours 
 Of a gross pleasure, that involves the soul 
 In clouds of infamy. I wonder, one 
 So complete in the structure of his body, 
 Should have his mind so disproportioned, 
 The lineaments of virtue quite defaced.
 
 
 HOLLAND'S LEAGUER. 61 
 
 Phil. I am subdued ! she has converted me. 
 I see within the mirror of her goodness, 
 The foulness of my folly. Sweet, instruct me, 
 And I will style thee my Algeria. 
 
 Fau. It is a shame, that man that has the seeds 
 Of virtue in him, springing unto glory, 
 Should make his soul degenerous with sin, 
 And slave to luxury, to drown his spirits 
 In lees of sloth, to yield up the weak day 
 To wine, to lust, and banquets. 
 
 Phil. Here's a woman ! 
 The soul of Hercules has got into her. 
 She has a spirit, is more masculine 
 Than the first gender : how her speech has filled 
 
 me 
 With love and wonder ! sweet lady, proceed. 
 Fau. I would have you proceed and seek for 
 
 fame 
 In brave exploits, like those that snatch their 
 
 honour 
 Out of the, talents of the Roman Eagle, 
 And pull her golden feathers in the field. 
 Those are brave men, not you that stay at home, 
 And dress yourself up, like a pageant, 
 With thousand antic and exotic shapes ; 
 That make an idol of a looking glass, 
 Sprucing yourself two hours by it, with such 
 Gestures and postures, that a waiting wench 
 Would be ashamed of you, and then come forth 
 T' adore your mistress' fan or tell your dream, 
 Ravish a kiss from her white glove, and then 
 Compare it with her hand, to praise her gown, 
 Her Tire, and discourse of the fashion : 
 Make discovery, which lady paints, which not, 
 Which lord plays best at gleek, which best at 
 
 racket. 
 These are fine elements !
 
 62 HOLLAND'S LEAGUER. 
 
 Phil. You have redeemed me, 
 And with the sunny beams of your good counsel 
 Disperst the mist that hung so heavy on me : 
 And that you may perceive it takes effect, 
 I'll to the wars immediately. 
 
 Fau. Why, then 
 
 I must confess I shall love you the better. 
 
 Phil. I will begin it in your happy omen : 
 But first confess, that you have vanquished me. 
 And if I shall o'ercome an enemy 
 Yield you the trophies of the victory 
 
 Fau. Please you walk in the while. 
 
 Phil. I shall attend you. [Exit Faustina. 
 
 Henceforth I'll strive to fly the sight of pleasure, 
 As of an harpy or a basilisk, 
 And, when she flatters, seal my ears with wax 
 Took from that boat, that rowed with a deaf oar 
 From the sweet tunes of the Sicilian shore. 
 
 Enter Trimalchio, Capritio, Fidelio, Ardelio, 
 and Snarl. 
 
 Trim. Are you for the war, indeed 1 
 
 Phil. Immediately. 
 
 Is there any of you will go along with me, 
 Besides this gentleman 1 
 
 Trim. I think, nobody. 
 
 Phil. Ardelio, thou art my faithful servant. 
 
 Ard. Alas sir, 
 My body is fat, and spungy, penetrable, 
 And the least cold will kill me. 
 
 Sua. Yet his face 
 
 Is hatched with impudency, threefold thick. 
 
 Ard. I am not for your trenches and cold cramps, 
 Their discipline will quickly bring me under ; 
 I'll stay at home, and look to your business. 
 
 Phil. Brother Capritio, what say you to it 1 
 
 Cap. Who, 1 1 od's lid ! I am not such an ass,
 
 Holland's leaguer. G3 
 
 To go amongst them, like you volunteers, 
 
 That, frighted worse at home with debt and danger, 
 
 Travel abroad i'th' summer to see service, 
 
 And then come home i'th' winter, to drink sack. 
 
 I am none of those ; I'll hardly trust myself 
 
 In the artillery yard, for fear of mischief. 
 
 Phil. Mr Trimalchio, you are young and lusty, 
 Full of ambitious thoughts. 
 
 Trim. 'Tis true, indeed, 
 
 That I am grown ambitious of honour, 
 And mean to purchase it. 
 
 Sna. But with no danger 
 
 Of life and hope. 
 
 Trim. T mean to hazard a limb for it. 
 
 Phil. Why, whither are you going 1 
 
 Trim. To the Leaguer, 
 
 Upon the same employment that Hercules 
 Did once against the Amazons. 
 
 Sna. And I 
 
 "Will stay at home and write their annals for them. 
 
 Phil. Stay all at home, and hug your igno- 
 minies, 
 And whilst we spoil the enemy, may you 
 Be pil'd by pimps, cheaters intrench upon you. 
 Let bawds and their issues join with you. Marry 
 With whores, and let projectors rifle for you. 
 And so I leave you. 
 
 Trim. We shall hear of you, 
 
 By the next caranto, I make no doubt of it. 
 
 Act IV. Scene I. 
 Enter Trimalchio and Cafkitio. 
 
 Trim. Brother Capritio, are you well provided 
 With amunition ] armed cap a pie.
 
 64 HOLLAND'S LEAGUER. 
 
 To scale the fort of our Semiramis 1 
 
 Cap. I am appointed, brother. 
 
 Trim. Then let us on 
 
 And beat a parley at the gates. So, ho ! 
 
 Enter Pandar. 
 
 Pand. How now, what bold adventurers be here 1 
 What desperate rudeness tempts you to your ruin \ 
 Here are no geese to keep our capitol, 
 But men of arms, you slaves, stout imps of Mars, 
 Giants, sons of the earth, that shall rise up, 
 Like Cadmus' progeny, to fight it out, 
 Till you are all consumed. Have you any gold ? 
 'Tis that must break our gates ope ; there are 
 
 lock'd, 
 A score of Danaes, wenches of delight, 
 Within this castle, if 1 list to show you 
 Where Circe keeps her residence, that shall, 
 If she but lay her rod upon your necks, 
 Transform you into apes, and swine, you sheep's 
 
 face. 
 If thou shalt once but drink of her enchantments, 
 She'll make a lion of thee. 
 
 Cap. Alas, sir, 
 
 I had rather look like an ass, as I am still. 
 
 Trim. Be not too boistrous, my son of thunder ! 
 We are well-wishers to thy camp, and thee. 
 Here is a freshman, I would have acquainted 
 With the mystery of your iniquity. 
 
 Pan, I do embrace thy league, and return the 
 hand 
 Of friendship. To thy better understanding, 
 I will discover the situation of the place. 
 'Tis of itself an island, a mere swan's nest, 
 Which had Ulysses seen, he would prefer 
 Before his Ithaca, and he whom fate 
 Shall bless to vanquish it, he may deserve
 
 HOLLAND'S LEAGUER. 65 
 
 The name of a new conqueror. It has 
 The credit to be styled the Terra Jlorida, 
 Of the best beauties in the town, my friend, 
 That repair hither upon the least summons, 
 Besides some that are constant to their trenches ; 
 Venus in this house is predominant. 
 'Tis barren, I confess, yet wholly given 
 To the deeds of fructification. But those 
 Are barred from coming to perfection 
 With rheums, and diseases. You dormice ! 
 What, must I read a lecture to you gratis ] 
 
 Trim. No, sir, here's money for you. 
 
 Pand. You may enter, 
 And return safe, upon your good behaviour. 
 
 Act IV. Scene II. 
 
 Bawd, Two Whores. 
 
 Bawd. Well, they may talk of Dunkirk or of Callis, 
 Enriched with foreign booties, but if ever 
 A little garrison, or sconce, as this, 
 Were so filled up with spoils, let me be carted. 
 
 1 Who. And carry it so cunningly away, 
 Beyond the reach of justice, and of all 
 The jurisdiction in our own hand, 
 Like a free state. 
 
 Bawd. Did not I purchase it 1 
 And am I not the lady of the manor 1 
 And who shall dare to question me 1 I hope, 
 I shall be able to defend my fort 
 From the invasion of the painted staff, 
 Or the tempestuous paper-engine, safe, 
 As a mole in a trench, and work at high midnight. 
 When their wise heads are laid, we'll raise the 
 
 spirits 
 Of our dead pleasures, use the benefit 
 Of youth, and dance our orgies by the moonlight. 
 
 E
 
 6G HOLLAND'S LEAGUER. 
 
 1 Who. I hope they need not to condemn us, we 
 drive 
 
 As open trade as they, and vent as ill 
 Commodities as any ; all that we utter 
 Is in dark shops, or else by candle-light. 
 
 2 Who. We are become the envy of citizens. 
 1 Who. It is reported that we study physic. 
 Bawd. Why so 1 
 
 1 Who. The reason is, because we know 
 The several constitutions of men's bodies. 
 
 2 Who. And some term us the Leaguer.* 
 Bawd. We defy 
 
 The force of any man. Who's that knocks so 1 
 
 Go bid the watch look out, and if their number 
 
 Be not too plural, then let them come in ! 
 
 But if they chance to be those ruffian soldiers, 
 
 Let fall the port-cullis. All they can do 
 
 Is to discharge a volley of oaths at me. 
 
 I'll take no tickets nor no future stipends. 
 
 'Tis not false titles, or denominations 
 
 Of offices can do it. I must have money, 
 
 Tell them so! draw the bridge! (Exit 1st //'.) 
 
 I'll make them know 
 This is no widow's house, but Marcus Manitius 
 Is Lord of the Island. Who was't 1 
 
 1 //7/o. (Re-entering). The Constable ! 
 Bawd. What would he have 1 
 
 2 Who. You know his business. 
 Bawd. Pox on the Marshal and the Constable ! 
 
 There cannot be a mystery in a trade, 
 But they must peep into it. Merciless varlets, 
 That know how many fall by our occupation, 
 And yet would have their venery for nothing. 
 A chambermaid can't have a ruff to set, 
 But they must be poking in it ! 
 
 * We will hind and hoodwink him so, that he shall suppose 
 no other but that he is carried into the leaguer of the adver- 
 saries, when we bring him to our own tents. — Shakespeare.
 
 HOLLAND'S LEAGUER. 67 
 
 Now, they have brought us under contribution, 
 
 They vex us more than the Venetians do 
 
 The whole corporation of courtezans ; 
 
 But Ave must give good words. Shew them a room ! 
 
 Enter Ardelio. 
 
 Ard. There's hot service within, I hear the muskets 
 Play from the rampiers. I am valiant, 
 And will venture upon the very mouths of them. 
 
 Baiol. Mr Ardelio, you have been a stranger. 
 You are grown rich of late. 
 
 Ard. Who, I grown rich 1 
 
 Bawd. Yes, somewhat pursey for want of 
 exercise. 
 
 Ard. Well, I was wont to put in for a gamester, 
 But now I am quite thrust out of all play. 
 
 Bated. We were wont to be your subjects to 
 work on, 
 And since you scorn us, yet you cannot say 
 But you have found good dealing at our hands. 
 
 2 Who. We have been always bent to your 
 worship's will, 
 And forward to help you on at all time. 
 
 Ard. Come, you are good wenches. 
 
 Bawd. Truly, sir, you know 
 I keep as good creatures at livery, 
 And as cheap too, as any poor sinner 
 Of my profession. 
 
 Ard. Hast thou e'er a morsel 
 That is not tainted or fly blown? 
 
 Bawd. Indeed I have 
 So much ado to keep my family sound, 
 You would wonder at it ; and such as arc so 
 They are taken up presently. But I have one, 
 I dare commend to you, for wind and limb. 
 
 Ard. Come, let me have her then. 
 
 Bawd. Please you walk in, sir ! [Exit Ardelio.
 
 68 Holland's leaguer. 
 
 Enter Miscellanio. 
 
 Mis. It's strange there is no more attendance given, 
 To usher in a man of my quality. 
 Are you the governess of this Cinqueport, lady 1 
 
 Bawd. The fortress, sir, is mine, and none come 
 here 
 But pay me custom. 
 
 Mis. Hast thou ne'er a pilot, 
 Or man of war to conduct a man safe 
 Into thy harbour ] there be rogues abroad : 
 Piratical varlets that would pillage me. 
 
 Bawd. Very well, sir. 
 
 Mis. I thought at first, you would have bar'd 
 my entrance. 
 
 Bawd. I do not use the fashions of those countries 
 That keep a stranger out four weeks at sea, 
 To know if he be sound. I make no scruple, 
 But give free traffic to all nations. 
 If you have paid your due, you may put in ; 
 There is the way ! I'll follow presently. 
 
 [Exit Miscellanio. 
 I think our soldiers are all come, let's in 
 And set the watch. 
 
 Enter Trimalchio, Capritio. 
 
 Trim. Stay, punk ! make room for us, 
 That have advanced our banners to thy walls, 
 Past all the pikes, the perdues, and the sentries. 
 'Tis a good omen ! where's Bellona there, 
 And the daughters of Mars, those brave girls ? 
 "We are come to pay our homage to their smocks. 
 
 Bated. Nay, if you are unruly we shall tame you. 
 
 Trim. Fear not, we are tributaries, punk. 
 
 Bawd. Sir, do you speak with no more reverence 
 To me 1 it seems you know me not. 
 
 Trim. I shall 
 
 Endeavour to preserve thy dignity.
 
 HOLLAND'S LEAGUER. 69 
 
 Art thou that brave Hippolite,* that governs 
 This troop of Scythians 1 speak Orithyia,t 
 My Menalippe,J my Antiope ! 
 We are sworn vassals to your petticoats. 
 
 Bawd. Did you attempt but the least injury, 
 There be in readiness would vindicate 
 The wrongs and credit of my house. 
 
 Trim. I know 
 
 Thy power, punk, and do submit me, punk, 
 Tarn Marti, quam veneri. 'Tis thy motto, punk. 
 
 Cap. Would I could tell how to get out again. 
 
 Bawd. How came you in ] have you performed all 
 duties 1 
 
 Trim. I threw thy Cerberus a sleepy morsel, 
 And paid thy Charon for my waftage over, 
 And I have a golden sprig for my Proserpine. 
 
 Bawd. Then you are welcome, sir. 
 
 Trim. Nay, I do honour 
 
 Thee and thy house, and all thy vermin in't, 
 And thou dost well to stand upon thy guard 
 Spite of the statutes. 'Tis a castle this, 
 A fort, a metropolitan bawdy house : 
 A Cynosarges, such as Hercules 
 Built in the honour of his pedigree, 
 For entertainment of the bastard issue 
 Of the bold Spartan. 
 
 Bawd. You have said enough, sir, 
 And, for requital, I will shew you in 
 Where you shall read the titles, and the prices. 
 
 Trim. But here's a brother of mine is somewhat 
 bashful : 
 
 * A queen of the Amazons, vanquished by Hercules, who 
 gave her to his companion, Theseus, by whom she had a son 
 called Hippolytus. She was also called Antiope. 
 
 ■f* One of the Amazons. 
 
 J A sister of Antiope, taken by Hercules when he made war 
 against the Amazons. He received as her ransom the arms 
 and girdle of the Amazonian queen. Juc. 8. v. 229, This 
 capture of the girdle achieved his ninth labour.
 
 70 HOLLAND'S LEAGUER. 
 
 I'd fain deliver to thy discipline. 
 
 Bawd. What, is he bashful 1 that's a fault indeed. 
 Come hither, chops ! you must not be so shamefaced. 
 
 Trim. Lo ! you there, sir ? you shall come forth in 
 print. 
 March on, my Calypso ! come, sir, follow your colours ! 
 You shall have the leading of the first title. 
 
 Act IV. Scene III. 
 
 Agurtes like a Constable : Autolicus, Snarl, Ufa 
 
 Watchmen. 
 
 Agu. Are your disguises ready 1 
 
 Aid. I have mine. 
 
 Snar. Mine's in my pocket. 
 
 Agu. Put it on your face ! 
 Now they are housed, I'll watch their coming forth, 
 And fright them in the form of a Constable ! 
 If that succeeds well, then I'll change the person, 
 To a Justice of peace, and you shall act 
 My clerk, Autolicus. They say an officer 
 Dares not appear about the gates : I'll try it ! 
 For I have made one drunk and got his staff, 
 Which I will use with more authority, 
 Than Mercury his all commanding rod, 
 To charm their steps, that none shall pass this way 
 Without examination. There stalks one ! 
 
 [Ardelio passes by. 
 I'll first know what he is ; now they drop away, 
 As if they leapt out from the Trojan Horse : 
 This is the autumn of the night. Who goes there 1 
 
 Ard. A friend ! 
 
 Aut. Friend or foe, come before the Constable. 
 
 Agu. Whence come you, friend ? 
 
 Ard. And't please you, sir, I have 
 
 Been waiting on my niece home to her lodging. 
 
 Agu. Why, is your niece a Leaguer, a suttler,
 
 Holland's leaguer. 71 
 
 Or Laundress to this fort 1 
 
 Ard. No, and it like you, 
 
 She lyes without the cam]). 
 
 Agu. You lie like a pimp ! 
 
 You are an apple squire,* a rat, and a ferret. 
 I saw you bolt out from that coney-berry.f 
 
 Ard. Mr Constable. 
 
 Agu. Out of the wind of me ! what, do you think 
 You can put out the eyes of a gorcrow ] X 
 Fob me off so, — the Constable that have 
 The parish stock of wit in my hands 1 I am glad 
 That I have got you from your covert : you shall 
 Be searched ! you shall along with me, sir ! 
 
 Ard. Whither] 
 
 Agu, No farther than to prison, where you shall 
 
 pay 
 
 But forty shillings for noctivagation. 
 
 Ard, I am undone then. There are forty old 
 scores 
 I owe in town will follow after me. 
 
 Agu. What are you ] what's your name 1 
 
 Ard. Ardelio, 
 
 A Lord's servant. 
 
 Agu. Do Lords' servants do this 1 
 
 Ard. Alas, a venial sin ! we use to learn it 
 When we come first to be pages. 
 
 Agu. Stand by ! there's one has got a clap too. 
 
 [Miscdlanio passes by. 
 
 Mis. The shirt of Hercules was not so hot. 
 
 Sna. There's one sure has been hurt with a gro- 
 nicado. 
 
 Agu. How now ! who's there 1 
 
 Alls. Here's nobody. 
 
 * A kept gallant. A person who waits on a woman of bad 
 character. 
 
 f Cony-burrow — a place where rabbits make their holes in 
 the ground. + A carrion crow.
 
 72 HOLLAND'S LEAGUER. 
 
 Agu. Nobody? my senses fail me then. Whois't? 
 What man are you % 
 
 Mis. No man ! you are deceived, 
 I cannot find I am a man ! that part 
 Is dead, wherein I once was an Achilles. 
 
 Aid. Come nearer. 
 
 Mis. I cannot go ; I have lost my nerves. 
 
 Ant. You shall be carried to the jail then. 
 
 Mis. Fitter for an hospital ; I am condemned 
 already 
 To fluxes and diet drinks. 
 
 Trimalchio, Capritio. 
 
 Trim. Murder, murder, Mr Constable ! murder ! 
 
 Agu. Who's that ? Jeronimo's son's ghost in the 
 garden 1 
 
 Trim. 0, Mr Constable, we have been so used, 
 As never two adventurous gentlemen 
 In the hands of their enemies. 
 
 Agu. What's the matter 1 
 
 Trim. Let me take breath ! I am at the last gasp. 
 We have escaped from the den of the Cyclops, 
 There was one ran a spit against my eyes. 
 
 Cap. Amongst the rest, there was a blink-ey'd 
 woman 
 Set a great dog upon me. 
 
 Trim. They have spoiled us 
 Of our cloaks, our hats, our swords, and our money. 
 
 Snar. Your wits and credit were both lost before. 
 
 Cap. No, we had not our wits about us then. 
 
 Trim. Good sir, let's think on some revenge! call up 
 The gentlemen 'prentices, and make a Shrove Tues- 
 day.* 
 
 * On Shrove Tuesday in each year, being their holiday, the 
 'Prentices of London exercised the right of attacking and de- 
 molishing houses of ill-fame, even prior to the date of then- 
 damaging "the Cockpit Playhouse in Drury Lane," on 4th 
 March 1617.
 
 HOLLAND'S LEAGUER. 73 
 
 Agu. By no means. I must suppress all violence. 
 
 Cap. My brother talked of building of a sconce, 
 And straight they seized our cloaks for the reck- 
 oning. 
 
 Trim. There I lost my hat and sword in the 
 rescue. 
 
 Agu. 'Twas well done. 
 
 Trim. And whil'st some strove to hold my hands, 
 The others dived in my pockets. I am sure, 
 There was a fellow with a tann'd face, whose breath 
 Was grown sulphurous with oaths and tobacco, 
 Puffed terror in my face. I shall never be 
 Mine own man again. 
 
 Bawd and Whores from above. 
 
 Bawd. Stop their throats, somebody ! 
 
 1 Who. 'Twere a good deed to have made them 
 swim the moat. 
 
 2 Who. Ay, to have stripped them, and sent 
 them out naked. 
 
 1 Who. Let's sally out and fetch them in again ! 
 Then call a court on them for false alarms. 
 
 Trim. Fly from their rage, sir ! they are worse 
 than harpies, 
 They'll tear us as the Thracians did Orpheus 
 Who's music, though it charmed the powers of hell, 
 Could not be beard amongst these. Mr Ardelio 
 And Miscellanio, I joy to see you, 
 Though ill met here. 
 
 Mis. Signiour Trimalchio ! 
 Sir, you must pardon me. I cannot stoop, 
 I have the grincums in my back, I fear 
 Will spoil my courtship. 
 
 Trim. Mr Ardelio, 
 Who would expected to have met you here 1 
 
 Ard. Nay, who would not expect it !' tis my 
 haunt,
 
 74 Holland's leaguer. 
 
 I love it as a pigeon loves a salt-pit. 
 
 Mis. me ! my scholar too, how came he hither ! 
 I did not mean t' impart this mystery. 
 How could he find it out 1 
 
 Trim. His own Minerva, 
 
 And my help, sir. 
 
 Agu. Well, you must all together. 
 
 Trim. Whither must we go ] 
 
 Agu. Marry, before a Justice ! 
 
 To answer for your riot. 
 
 Ard. Mr. Constable ! 
 
 Agu. I cannot dispense with it. 
 
 Mis. Let us redeem our peace. 
 
 Agu. Not before next sessions. Bring them 
 away ! 
 
 Snar. Come, there's no remedy. 
 
 Act IV. Scene IV. 
 
 Bawd, Whores, Pandar. 
 
 Baivd. Was ever such a treacherous plot in- 
 tended 
 Against our state, and dignity 1 
 
 Pan. Had this 
 
 Passed with impunity, they might have sworn 
 Vengeance had run the country. 
 
 1 Who. But I hope 
 They have no cause to boast their victory. 
 
 Pan. Now, by this air, as I am a true soldier, 
 Bred under and devoted to your banner, 
 But that your pity did prevent my rage 
 They should have known no quarter, for this brow 
 Brooks no affronts. 
 
 2 Who. Captain, you fought it bravely. 
 Baud. We'll have a stone graven with characters, 
 
 To intimate your prowess.
 
 HOLLAND'S LEAGUEK. 75 
 
 Pand. No, my dear Gorgons, 
 I will not have my fame wander without 
 The precincts of your castle : 'tis enough 
 It can be sheltered here within these walls, 
 And to recount with your acknowledgements 
 What this fort owes to my protection. 
 
 Bawd. Captain, we must confess you are our 
 guardian. 
 
 Panel. Then let me sacrifice unto my humour. 
 All you this night shall be at my disposing 
 To drink and drab, 'tis the fault of your fortune 
 That do profess this trade, t' have somebody 
 To spend your purchase on : 'tis my decree, 
 What others riot, you should waste on me. 
 
 Act IV. Scene V. 
 
 Agurtes like a Justice of Peace. 
 Autolicus his clerk. 
 
 Agu. What, are they come % 
 
 Ant. Yes, sir. 
 
 Agu. Then let me see 
 How I can act it ; do I look like a Justice % 
 
 Aid. As fearful as an ass in a lion's skin, sir. 
 
 Agu. Here I begin my state. Suppose me now 
 Come down the stairs, out of the dining-room 
 Into the hall, and thus I begin. Brisco ! 
 Call Brisco, my clerk ! 
 
 Aut. At your elbow, sir. 
 
 Agu. Reach me my ensign of authority ! 
 My staff I mean. Fy, fy, how dull you are, 
 And incomposed ! Now set me in my chair, 
 That I may look like a cathedral Justice 
 That knew what belongs to an Assignammus 
 And Dedimus potestatis. Nay, though we are 
 Of the peace, we can give Priscian* a knock. 
 
 * The grammarian.
 
 76 HOLLAND'S LEAGUER. 
 
 Let me alone now to determine causes, 
 As free from error as the Pope ; old Minos 
 And Rhadamanth are not so skilled i'th' urn, 
 As I am in the statutes. I have them ad unguem. 
 Now if they enter, at their peril be it. 
 How dost thou like my action 1 
 
 Aid. Very well, sir. 
 
 Agu. Let them come in ! 
 
 Enter Snarl, like a Constable, Trimalchio, 
 Capritio, Miscellanio, Ardelio. 
 
 Now, Mr Constable, 
 I must commend your diligence. Come hither! 
 
 Snar. Sir, I have brought four men before your 
 Worship, 
 I found last night at midnight in the streets, 
 liaising a tumult. 
 
 Agu. Brisco, be ready to take 
 Their examination. Good ! you found four men 
 At midnight. Whose men are they ? 
 
 Trim. Our own men, sir. 
 
 Agu. So it seems by your liveries. 
 Write that clown ! first they say, they are their own 
 men. 
 
 Aral. Sir, by your favour, I am not my own man. 
 
 Agu. I thought they would not all be in one tale ; 
 I knew I should find them tripping, and I 
 Once come to sift them. You are not your own man ] 
 It argues you are drunk. Write his confession 
 Ex os tuuni te indico : perge, Mr Constable. 
 
 Snar. I hold it fit your Worship should examine 
 What they did there so late. 
 
 Agu. What did you there 
 
 So late % 
 
 Mis. Good Justice echo, we had business. 
 
 Agu. Eecord, they say, they had business. They 
 shall know
 
 HOLLAND'S LEAGUER. 77 
 
 That I am Judge of Record, and what I do 
 Record shall stand, and they shall have no power 
 To plead not guilty in a Scire facias, 
 By a recognisance. I have my terms. 
 
 Ard. Good your Worship, give us not such hard 
 words. 
 
 Trim. 'Tis almost as hard usage as the Leaguer. 
 
 Agu. Then you came from the Leaguer ] 
 . Trim. You may read 
 
 Some adventures in our habit. We have seen, 
 And tasted the experience of the wars. 
 
 Mis. They have made me of another religion, 
 I must turn Jew, I think, and be circumcised. 
 I may be anything, now, I shall lose a limb, 
 I may go seek my pension with the soldiers. 
 But, 'tis no matter, I'll turn valiant 
 And fight with the stump. 
 
 Agu. You are a fighter then ? 
 This doth appear to me to be a riot. 
 What think you, Mr Constable 1 
 
 Snar. I think no less. 
 
 Agu. Was ad terrorem populum. 
 
 Snar. I know not 
 
 What you mean, but I mean as your Worship means : 
 I did perceive they had been quarrelling. 
 
 Agu. Why then, 'twas an affray, a sudden affray, 
 Directly against the state of Northampton. 
 The Decimo tertio of Harry the fourth clears the 
 
 doubt. 
 How do you traverse this, what do you answer ] 
 
 Ard. We make a question, by your Worship's 
 favour, 
 Under correction, whether that which was 
 Done under foreign powers, in foreign lands, 
 Be punishable here or no. 
 
 Agu. How prove you that 1 
 
 Ard. 'Tis a province by itself, a privileged place,
 
 78 HOLLAND'S LEAGUER. 
 
 A strong corporation, and has factions 
 In court and city. 
 
 Trim. Is inhabited 
 
 With furies, that do multiply like Hydra ; 
 An army of diseases can't suppress them, 
 Besides their many fallings t'other way. 
 
 Agu. I should be loth t' infringe their liberties, 
 I'll send you to be tried, from whence you came, 
 then. 
 
 Cap. 0, good your Worship, hang us up at home 
 first, 
 Let us endure the rack or the strapado, 
 We do submit us to your Worship's censure. 
 
 Agu. Have you provided sureties for the peace 
 then 1 
 
 Ard. More need to provide somethings for my 
 belly. 
 I think they mean to keep me for a race. 
 I'm fallen away quite, I was like a hogshead : 
 Now I am able to run through my hoops, 
 
 Agu. What's he that halts before me 1 do you 
 mock me 1 
 Tis ill halting before a cripple, sirrah. 
 
 Mis. "Tis sore against my will, I cannot help it. 
 Would I could run away with half my teeth. 
 
 Agu. Can't a man have the venerable gout, 
 Or the bone-ache, but you must imitate him 'I 
 
 Mis. Good Mr Justice. 
 
 Agu. Mock your fellow rogues ! 
 I'm none of those, that raised my fortunes with 
 Fiddling and tobacco. Make his Mittimus ! 
 
 Snar. And't please you, sir, here's one has brought 
 a letter. 
 
 Agu. From whom 1 
 
 Snar. From one Mistress Millescent. 
 The contents will inform you.
 
 HOLLAND'S LEAGUER. 79 
 
 The Letter. 
 
 Noble Sir, — 
 
 I am sorry to interest my unstayd honour in 
 the patronage of offenders, or to abuse the credit 
 I have with you, in stopping the course of justice 
 against them, whose youthful licentiousness would 
 pollute the pen of a lady to excuse it. On the 
 other part, I hold it the betraying of a virgin's 
 sweet disposition, to withdraw her favours where 
 she has once placed them, although there be some 
 want of desert. I must confess 'tis an antipathy to 
 my nature to see any gentleman suffer when I may 
 prevent it. Howsoever I have found a disrespect 
 from him, yet I forget it. For anger abides in the 
 bosoms of women as snow on the ground ; where it 
 is smooth and level it falls quickly off, but remains 
 where it is rough and uneven. That this may appear 
 to be true. I would entreat you to dismiss those 
 two gentlemen and their associates, Mr Trimalchio 
 and Capritio, whose riotous looseness has made 
 them obnoxious to your censure, and my suspicion. 
 Thus not doubting the success of my letter, I rest 
 in your favour as you may presume on mine, and 
 your true friend, Millescent. 
 
 Agu. This lady, that has writ on your behalf, 
 Is one I honour. 
 
 Trim. How should she hear of it 1 
 
 Agu. It seems, your fault is quickly blown abroad. 
 
 Trim. I had rather seal a noverint universi 
 For a thousand stale commoditieSj 
 Than she should know of it. 
 
 Agu. As for you two, 
 
 You may pay your fees and depart ; you have 
 Your manumission for this lady's sake. 
 Master Constable you are discharged, and you may 
 Go along with them and receive their fees.
 
 80 HOLLAND'S LEAGUER. 
 
 Mis. Though I say nothing, yet I smell some- 
 thing ; 
 A lady send a letter 1 she is in love 
 With me, I'll pawn my life, and I ne'er knew it. 
 I'll get my back well, and go visit her. 
 
 Ard. Now I have got my teeth at liberty, 
 And they e'er tie me to the rack again 
 Let me be choked. 
 
 \_Exeunt Misccllanio, Snarl, Ardelio. 
 
 Agu. Well, I perceive you are 
 A favourite to this lady. What's your name 1 
 
 Trim. Trimalchio. 
 
 Agu. And yours 1 
 
 Cap. Capritio. 
 
 Agu. Two ancient names in Camden. Of what 
 country 1 
 
 Cap. Of Norfolk. 
 
 Agu. The Capritios of Norfolk ? 
 
 I think we shall be kin anon : my mother 
 Was a Capritio, and of that house. 
 Are you allied unto this lady 1 
 
 Trim. No, sir, 
 
 But I have formerly been entertained 
 As a poor suitor to her grace's favour. 
 
 Agu. I find by that, you are a man of fashion ; 
 And would you then % — 
 
 Trim. Nay, good sir, do not chide. 
 
 Agu. Yes, 1 must tell you that you were to 
 blame, 
 Having so fair a fortune before you, to wrong 
 A lady of her spirit ; so rich and fair, 
 Of unreproved chastity, and one 
 So high in birth, nay, 'tis not possible 
 To speak her virtues, and present yourself 
 So lumpishly, nay perhaps fill her bed 
 Full of diseases. 
 
 Trim. Good sir, say no more !
 
 HOLLAND'S LEAGUER. 81 
 
 I am a traitor, I have killed a man, 
 Committed sacrilege ! Let her seek revenge 
 For these, or if less punishment will serve : 
 To have me beaten, I'll run naked to her. 
 
 Agu. I will not press a good nature so far. 
 You two shall stay and dine with me. I'll send 
 My coach for your mistress ; it shall go hard, 
 But I will make you friends, before we part. 
 
 Act V. Scene I. 
 Philautus, Fidelio, Faustina. 
 
 Fau. Now let me bid you welcome from the 
 wars, 
 Laden with conquest, and the golden fleece 
 Of honour, which, like Jason, you have brought 
 T" enrich your country, now indebted to you. 
 Had it not been a pity such a talent 
 Of virtue should be lost or ill employed 1 
 
 Phil. Lady, you are a good physician, 
 It was your counsel wrought this miracle, 
 Beyond the power of Esculapius. 
 For when my mind was stupified, and lost 
 In the pursuit of pleasures, all my body 
 Torn and dissected with close vanities, 
 You have collected me anew to life ; 
 And now I come to you, with as chaste thoughts 
 As they were first adulterous, and yield 
 A due submission for the wrong I did 
 Both to yourself and sex. 
 
 Fau. Sir, for my part, 
 
 You have your pardon. 
 
 Phil. You were born to quit me. 
 
 Fid. But, when you know the author of your 
 freedom, 
 
 F
 
 82 HOLLAND'S LEAGUER. 
 
 You'll thank her more. 
 
 Phil. Why, who is it ] 
 
 Fid. Your sister. 
 
 Phil. Who? not Faustina? she told me so 
 indeed, 
 Her name was Faustina. Let me look upon her, 
 As on the picture of all goodness, engraven 
 By a celestial finger, shall outwear 
 A marble character. I knew her not ; 
 I am glad there is a scion of our stock, 
 Can bear such fruit as this, so ripe in virtue. 
 Where have you lived recluse 1 you were betrothed 
 To one Fidelio, but crossed by your father. 
 I have heard good reports of the gentleman. 
 
 Fan. I never knew you flatter any man 
 Unto his face before. 
 
 Phil. Unto his face 1 
 
 Where is he 1 
 
 Fid- My name's Fidelio. 
 
 Phil. I am transported, ravished ! give me leave, 
 Good gods, to entertain with reverence 
 So great a comfort. Let me first embrace you. 
 Great joys, like griefs, are silent. Loose me 
 
 now, 
 And let me make you fast. Here join your hands, 
 Which no age shall untie ; let happiness 
 Distil from you, as the Arabian gums, 
 To bless you issue. 
 
 Fid. Now I hope, sweet lady, 
 The time has put a period to your vow. 
 
 Fau. 'Tis ended now, and you may take a com- 
 fort, 
 That I could tie myself with such a law. 
 For you may hope thereby I shall observe you 
 With no less strict obedience. 
 
 Fid. I believe you. 
 
 Phil. And, for her dowry, I will treble it..
 
 HOLLAND'S LEAGUER. 83 
 
 Enter Snarl. 
 
 Here Snarl is come to be a witness to it ! 
 
 Snar. My Lord Philautus, if I may presume 
 To congratulate your Honour's safe return, 
 I must confess I do it with my heart, 
 And all your friends long to participate 
 Your happy presence. 
 
 Phil. Thanks both to them and thee. 
 
 Snar. Master Fidelio, no less to you. 
 I see you happy in your mistress' favour, 
 And that's as much as I can wish to you. 
 
 Fid. You have been always privy to my coun- 
 sel. 
 Ask me no questions now, I shall resolve you 
 When we come in. 
 
 Phil. How fares our camp at home 1 
 
 Trimalchio, and the rest ] 
 
 Snar. I have been busy 
 
 In projecting for them ; they must all be married. 
 I have seen the interlude of the Leaguer : 
 And Ave have played the Justice and the Constable : 
 I will not prepossess you with the sport, 
 But I will shew you such a scene of laughter. 
 
 Phil. Where is Ardelio 1 
 
 Snar. Your servant, Ardelio 1 
 
 'Tis the notorioust mixture of a villain, 
 That ever yet was bred under the dunghill 
 Of servitude : he has more whores at command 
 Than you have horses. He has stables for them, 
 His private vaulting houses. 
 
 Phil. Discharge him the house ! 
 
 Take his accounts and office, and dispose them. 
 
 Snar. Ever your Lordship's true and faithful 
 servant.
 
 84 HOLLAND'S LEAGUER. 
 
 Act V. Scene II. 
 
 MlLLESCENT, MARGERY. 
 
 Mil. When was my father and the Captain here 1 
 
 Mar. They are plotting abroad, I hope to see 
 you shortly 
 Honestly married and then turn virtuous. 
 
 Mil. Tis the course of the world now, Margery. 
 But yet I fear I have got such a trick, 
 When I was young, that I shall never leave it. 
 
 Mar. What help then? the poor gentleman 
 must suffer, 
 Good Trimalchio : 'tis his fate. 
 
 Mil. I am thinking 
 
 What I shall do with him when I am married. 
 
 Mar. What do other women do with their 
 husbands ? 
 Bring him up in obedience, make him besides 
 An implement to save your reputation. 
 Let him not press into your company 
 Without permission ; you must pretend 
 You are ashamed of him. Let him not eat 
 Nor lie with you, unless he pay the hire 
 Of a new gown or petticoat ; live with him, 
 As if you were his neighbour, only near him, 
 In that you hate his friends : and, when you please 
 To show the power you carry over him, 
 Send him before on foot, and you come after 
 With your coach and four horses. 
 
 Mil. 'Tis fitting so. 
 
 Enter Miscellanio. 
 
 Host now ! what piece of motion have we here ? 
 Would you speak with any body ? 
 
 Mis. My business 
 
 Is to the lady Millescent.
 
 HOLLAND'S LEAGUER. 85 
 
 Mil. What's your will ? 
 
 Mis. Are you that lady 1 
 
 Mil. Yes, my name is so. 
 
 Mis. To you then I direct m'apology. 
 It seems your eye with approbation 
 Has glanced upon my person. I protest 
 I never was so dull in the construction 
 Of any lady's favour in my life : 
 I am ashamed of my error. 
 
 Mil. In what, sir 1 
 
 I cannot call to mind that e'er I saw you. 
 
 Mis. You have been still too modest to con- 
 ceal it. 
 That was not my fault : you did ill to strive 
 To hide the flames of love, they must have vent : 
 'Tis not the walls of flesh can hold them in. 
 
 Mis. What riddles have we here 1 that I should 
 love you 1 
 I would not have you think so well of yourself. 
 
 Mar. Perhaps he has some petition to deliver, 
 Or would desire your letter to some Lord. 
 
 Mis. I know not how, sure I was stupified ! 
 I have ere now guessed at a lady's mind, 
 Only by the warbling of her lute-string, 
 Kissing her hand, or wagging of her feather, 
 And suffer you to pine for my embraces, 
 And not conceive it 1 
 
 Mil. Pray, be pacified. 
 This fellow will persuade me I am in love. 
 
 Mis. Lady, you have took notice of my Avorth, 
 Let it not repent you. Be not stubborn 
 Towards your happiness. You have endured 
 Too much already for my sake, you shall see 
 Pity can melt my heart. I take no delight 
 To have a lady languish for my love. 
 I am not made of flint as you suspect me. 
 
 Alii. I would thou wert converted to a pillar,
 
 86 HOLLAND'S LEAGUER. 
 
 For a memorial of this impudence. 
 
 Mis. You shall know what 'tis to tempt me, here- 
 after, 
 When I shall let you perish for your folly. 
 I came to remunerate the courtesy 
 I received from your ladyship. 
 
 Mil. I know of none. 
 
 Mis. I must acknowledge myself bound to you. 
 
 Mil. For what ? 
 
 Mis. Your letter to the Justice, lady ! 
 It free'd me from the pounces of those varlets, 
 When I was under the gripe of the law. 
 I know the only motive was your love. 
 
 Mil. I cry you mercy ! Were you one of them 
 That drew Trimalchio to those idle courses ] 
 I am ashamed of the benefit. Leave me 
 That I may not see the cause of my sorrow. 
 But 'tis no matter, we shall leave you first. 
 
 [Exeunt Mil. and Margery. 
 
 Mis. They shall find I am no man to be slighted, 
 And that she has misplaced her affection. 
 When I have wracked the wrongs on my co-rival, 
 Trimalchio, look to thyself ! were he removed 
 There might be hopes my valour shall make known 
 There is a difference. I'll straight to the tavern, 
 And when I once am hot with good canary, 
 I pronounce him dead that affronts my fury. 
 
 Act V. Scene III. 
 
 Ardelio. 
 
 Ard. Turned out of service 1 the next turn will 
 be 
 Under the gallows, and have a ballad made of me. 
 The corruption of a cashiered serving-man 
 Is the generation of a thief. I fear 
 My fate points me not out to so good fortune ;
 
 Holland's leaguer. ' 87 
 
 My bulk will not serve me to take a purse. 
 
 The best thing I am fit for is a tapster, 
 
 Or else get a wench of mine own, and sell 
 
 Bottle ale and tobacco, that's my refuge. 
 
 They termed me parasite, 'tis a mystery 
 
 Is like a familiar, that leaves a man 
 
 When he is near his execution. 
 
 I have no power to flatter myself now, 
 
 I might have gone a wooing to some widow, 
 
 And had his countenance, but now the tenants 
 
 Look like their bacon, rustily, upon me. 
 
 Enter Jeffry. 
 
 What, Jeffry ] thou art the comfort of my woes. 
 
 Welcome, good Jeffry ! 
 
 Jef. Thanks to your Worship. 
 
 Ard. Where are my hangings, Jeffry ] 
 Jef. Very well, sir. 
 
 Locked in a cypress chest for fear of moths. 
 Ard. And all the other furniture, good Jeffry ] 
 Jef They are kept safe and well aired for your 
 
 Worship. 
 Ard. Thanks, good Jeffry. I were in a sweet 
 case, 
 
 If I had not conveyed some things away 
 
 To maintain me hereafter. 
 
 Jef. Why so, sir 1 
 
 Ard. I may go set* up bills now for my living, 
 
 Cry vinegar up and down the streets ; or fish 
 
 At Blackfriars' stairs ; or sit against 
 
 A wall, with a library of ballads before me. 
 Jef You are not out of service 1 
 Ard. Turned a grazing 
 
 In the wide common of the world, Jeffry. 
 
 Jef Then are my hopes at best ; I have no 
 reason 
 
 * Paste.
 
 88 Holland's leaguer. 
 
 To care for him any longer. A word with you, 
 What furniture do you mean 1 
 
 ..Ard. Those that I sent, 
 
 The heds and hangings. 
 
 Jef. Did you send any such 1 
 
 Ard. I hope you will not use me so. 
 
 J e f Your own words : 
 
 I must make the best benefit of my place. 
 You know 'tis not an age to be honest in, 
 'Tis only the highway unto poverty. 
 I know not how, I do not fancy you 
 Of late. 
 
 Ard. I chose thee for thy knavish look, 
 And now thou hast requitsd me : of all 
 My evils thou art the worst. 
 
 j e f_ No faith, sir ! 
 
 You have a worse commodity at my house, 
 But you may save the charges of a writ ; 
 I'll send her you without reprieve or bail. 
 I do you that favour. 
 
 Ard. No, you may keep her still. 
 
 Jef. Methinks you are much dejected with your 
 fall, 
 I find an alteration in your face. 
 You look like an almanac of last year's date, 
 Or like your livery cloak, of two years' wearing, 
 Worse than the smoky wall of a bawdy house. 
 
 Ard. Villain, dost thou insult on me ! 
 
 j e f No faith, sir ! 
 
 Alas, 'tis not within the reach of man 
 To countermine your plots. 
 
 Ard. Well, slave, because 
 
 I'll rid my hands of thee, I'll give thee a share. 
 
 Jef. You must have none without lawful pro- 
 ceeding, 
 And that I know you dare not.
 
 Holland's leaguer. 8§ 
 
 Enter Snarl, and Officers. 
 
 Snar. But I dare ! 
 
 Have you been partners all this while in mischief, 
 And now fall out who shall be the most knave 1 
 
 Jef. What do you mean 1 
 
 Snar. I mean to search your house 
 
 For ammunition, no otherwise, 
 Which I suspect you send unto the Leaguer. 
 
 Jef. Sir, I have nothing there, but one cracked 
 piece 
 Belongs to this gentleman, can do no service. 
 She is spoiled in the bore. 
 
 Sua. We'll have her new cast. 
 
 Come, bring them away ! 
 
 Ard. Nay, good sir, you know 
 
 That I was lately quit before a Justice, 
 And if 1 fall in a relapse — 
 
 Sna. All's one 
 
 To me, but you must satisfy the law. 
 
 Ard. Well then, I know the worst of it. 
 
 Act V. Scene IV. 
 Agurtes, Autolicus, Trimalchio, Capritio. 
 
 Agu. Master Trimalchio, 'tis an age since I saw 
 you. 
 
 Trim. I was ne'er out of town. 
 
 Agu. Not out of town 1 
 
 We sought you all about the ordinaries, 
 Taverns, and bawdy-houses, we could imagine 
 You ever haunted. 
 
 Trim. You might have found us then. 
 
 Aut. Nay, more, we enquired at the play-houses. 
 
 Agu. 'Twas once in my mind to have had you cried. 
 
 Aut. We gave you lost. 
 
 Trim. Well, shall I tell you, Captain 1 
 
 Aut. Aye do, what is't?
 
 90 HOLLAND'S LEAGUER. 
 
 Trim. This gentleman and I 
 Have passed through purgatory, since I saw you, 
 If I should tell you all the passages 
 At the Leaguer. 
 
 Aid. Thither we came to meet you, 
 And you were gone. 
 
 Cap. And then at the Justice's. 
 
 Agu. Were you before the Justice 1 
 
 Trim, 'Tis such a story 
 
 Would fill a chronicle. 
 
 Cap. We met with a party of the enemies, 
 Took all we had from us, and then it cost us 
 Forty shillings in fees at the Justice's. 
 
 Agu. That was hard dealing. 
 
 Cap. The old boy and I 
 
 Grew to be kin at last. 
 
 Trim. He made me sure 
 
 To my mistress, before we parted. 
 
 Agu. How 1 
 
 By what strange accident 1 
 
 Trim. Honest Ardelio, 
 
 And Miscellanio, we were all together 
 In rebellion, and quit by a letter, 
 That came from my mistress. 
 
 Agu. Is't possible 1 
 
 And Miscellanio turn traitor ! 
 
 Trim. What 1 
 
 Agu. Would have your mistress from you, thinks 
 the letter 
 Was sent for his sake. 
 
 Trim. That I'm sure he does not. 
 
 Agu. Threatens and swears that he will fight for 
 
 her. 
 Trim. If he be weary of his life, he may. 
 Why, what can he pretend to her 1 
 
 Agu. I know not 
 
 What has passed between them, but I am sure
 
 HOLLAND'S LEAGUER. 91 
 
 He has been practising at the fencing-school, 
 To get a trick to kill you. 
 
 Trim. He kill me ? 
 
 I'll kill him first. I fight by geometry. 
 
 Agu. How ! By geometry ? 
 
 Trim. Yes, sir. Here I hold 
 
 My rapier, mark me, in a diameter 
 To my body; that's the centre, conceive me. 
 
 Aut. Your body is the centre, very good. 
 
 Trim. And my hilt, part of the circumference. 
 
 Aut. Well, sir. 
 
 Trim. Which hilt is bigger than my body. 
 
 Aut Than your whole body ? 
 
 1 rim. Yes, at such a distance. 
 
 And he shall never hit me whilst he lives. 
 
 Aut. Where did you learn this? at the Leaguer 1 ? 
 
 Trim. No. 
 
 No, by this light, it is my own invention : 
 I learnt it on my travels. 
 
 Aut. Very strange ! 
 
 You are a scholar? 
 
 Trim. Nay, I would not be 
 Suspected of such a crime for a million. 
 But 'tis no sin to know geometry 
 And, by that, I can tell we shall ne'er fight. 
 
 Aut. Not fight at all ? 
 
 Trim. I'll shew you in geometry, 
 Two parallels can never meet : now we two 
 Being parallels, for so we are, that is 
 Equal in wit and valour, can never meet, 
 And if we never meet, we shall ne'er fight. 
 
 Enter Miscellanio. 
 
 Aut. To prove your axiom false, see where he 
 
 comes ! 
 Trim. I do defy him. 
 Mis. Hang thee, blust'ring son
 
 92 Holland's leaguer. 
 
 Of ^Eolus, defy me ! I'll tie up thy breath 
 In bags, and sell it for a penny an ounce. 
 
 Aid. Draw, sir ! 
 
 Mis. Draw, if he dares ! 
 
 Cap. Sure, this is the second part of the Leaguer. 
 'Twere best for me to hide me in my cabin. 
 
 [Exit Capritio. 
 
 Mis. Will you resign your mistress 1 
 
 Trim. No, I scorn it. 
 
 Mis. Unless you'll have her tane away by force. 
 
 Aid. I see, this cannot be ended without blood. 
 
 Trim. Captain, a word with you. 
 
 Aid. What say you, sir ? 
 
 Trim. I am afraid he comes with the black art. 
 
 Aid. How ! you afraid ] Do not say so for shame. 
 
 Trim. He has lain Avith an old witch at Sweden, 
 And is grown stick-free. 
 
 Aid. Fye ! that you should say so. 
 
 Trim. I'll be resolved of that before I fight. 
 
 Aid. Why, do you think the witches have such 
 power 1 
 
 Trim. Ay, marry do I. I have known one of 
 them 
 Do more than that, when her husband has followed 
 Strange women, she has turned him into a bezar,* 
 And made him bite out his own stones. 
 
 Aid. 'Tis strange ! 
 
 Trim. I '11 tell you another as strange as that, of 
 one 
 When a vintner has sent her but ill wine, 
 She has converted him into a frog, 
 And, then conjured him into one of his butts, 
 Where he has lived twelve months upon the lees, 
 And, when his old guests chance to come to see him, 
 He has croaked to them out at the bung-hole. 
 
 * Beazar. A goat. — " Beazar-stone, used in physic as a 
 cordial, breeds in the maw of the Beazar." — Blount, 1661.
 
 Holland's leaguer. 93 
 
 Aut, This is miraculous ! 
 
 Trim. There was a lawyer 
 
 That spoke against one of them at the bar. 
 
 Aut. What did she then 1 
 
 Trim. Turned him into a ram, 
 
 And still that ram retains his profession, 
 Has many clients and pleads causes as well 
 As some lawyers in Westminster. 
 
 Aid. Do you think 
 
 That he has had recourse to any such ] 
 
 Trim. I know not, but 'tis good to be mistrustful. 
 He may have advantage in the encounter. 
 
 Enter Millescent, Margery. 
 
 Mis. There she comes ! win her, and wear her. 
 
 Mil. Hold your hands ! 
 I'll have no blood a prologue to my wedding. 
 
 Trim, Nay then, have at you. Hold me not, I say 
 I am as fierce as he. 
 
 Mil. Be pacified ! 
 
 I thought you had been both bound to the peace. 
 
 Aut. Lady, it seems that these two gentlemen 
 Do stand in competition for your love. 
 
 Mil. Mr Trimalchio, I confess, has been 
 A former suitor, but with his ill carriage, 
 He has thus long prevented his good fortune, 
 
 Aut. Then let me make a motion. 
 
 Mil, What is it 1 
 
 Aid. Will they both stand to it ? 
 
 Trim. I agree. 
 
 Mis. And I ! 
 
 Aid. Then let the lady dispose of herself. 
 
 Trim. She is mine already, I am sure to her 
 Before a Justice. 
 
 Mis. I will have no woman 
 
 Against her will. 
 
 Mil. No, sir, you shall not.
 
 94 Holland's leaguer. 
 
 Since you are so peremptory, on your words then 
 
 That he shall sing a Palinodium, 
 
 And recant his ill courses, I assume 
 
 My love, Trimalchio. [ Capritio peeps out. 
 
 Cap. Do we take, or are we taken ] 
 
 Trim. Nay, we do take. 
 
 Agu. Who's that % Capritio ! where have you 
 been 1 ? 
 Come your ways forth, and lay hands on the spoil. 
 Go lead away that lady by the hand. 
 Now you may take occasion by the foretop, 
 Advance your own predominant the better, 
 And march away. 
 
 Trim. Come, let us to the church. 
 
 [Trimalchio and Millescent exeunt. 
 
 Capritio, Margery. 
 
 Mis. And what must I do now ] be laughed at ? 
 
 Agu. Would you 
 
 Hazard yourself for one, that cares not for you 1 
 You may be glad you 'scaped. Recall yourself ! 
 Were not you formerly engaged 1 
 
 Mis. No never. 
 
 Agu. Not to Mistress Quartilla 1 
 
 Mis. Faith, we have toy'd 
 
 In jest sometime. 
 
 Agu. Let it be now in earnest. 
 Make her amends, I know she loves you. 
 
 Mis. W T ell ! 
 
 I will have her, and stand up for my portion 
 With the rest of my tribe. 
 
 Act V. Scene the last. 
 Snarl, Philautus. 
 
 Sua. Stay here a little. They are gone to 
 church,
 
 HOLLAND'S LEAGUER. 95 
 
 And will return in couples. First, Trimalchio, 
 
 That giant in conceit, thinks he is matched 
 
 To some great heir, but shall embrace a cloud 
 
 Instead of Juno. Then her waiting-woman, 
 
 Her Iris, reflects upon Capritio, 
 
 And for my piece of fragmentary courtship, 
 
 My miscellany gentleman, 'tis his lot 
 
 To be cast upon Quartilla, with Agurtes 
 
 In his old Justiceship. All these march together, 
 
 Like the seven deadly sins, and, behind them, 
 
 Comes Autolicus, the clerk of the company. 
 
 Enter Agurtes like a Justice, Trimalchio, Milles- 
 
 CENT, MlSCELLANIO, QUARTILLA, CaPRITTO, 
 
 Margery, Autolicus like, a clerk. 
 
 Ant. Look you, sir, here they come ! 
 
 Trim. Make room ! methinks 
 
 You should not stop the course of justice so. 
 My Lord Philautus, you are welcome from 
 The wars, and I from the church ; I wonder 
 Who makes the better return, you have got 
 Honour, and so have I. But where's your wealth 1 
 I can embrace five thousand pounds a-year. 
 That's nothing with you ; I have no more wit 
 Than to be pil'd with pimps, and marry whores. 
 Yet I mean shortly to rank with your honour. 
 Here is my warrant, I have promised her, 
 To make her a countess, but that's nothing with 
 
 you. 
 Nay, more than this, I can go on and leave 
 Some advancement behind me. Ecce signumf 
 
 Phil. 'Tis well ! I am glad of your happiness, 
 And much joy to my brother, Capritio, 
 And his fair spouse. 
 
 Cap. She is according to 
 
 My heart's desire, sir. 
 
 Sna. "Well, a word with you,
 
 96 HOLLAND'S LEAGUER. 
 
 Master Trimalchio, and the rest. 
 
 Trim. What say you ? 
 
 Sna. You were as good know it at first as at 
 last. 
 You are not the first that have been deceived. 
 
 Trim. In what ] My wife 1 I married her for 
 maid, 
 And whether she be one or no, I care not. 
 
 Sna. Nay, should I hear a man that should abuse 
 her 
 In that, I would defend her with my sword. 
 But she and you must call this man your father. 
 
 Trim. Ay, so she must, he gave her at the church. 
 
 Sna. Nay, her own natural father, flesh and 
 bone; 
 I hope she'll not deny it. 
 
 Milk. No, indeed, sir, 
 
 I would not live to be so ungracious. 
 
 Agu. I must acknowledge thee my child, or I 
 Should do thy mother wrong. 
 
 Trim. I do not think so, 
 
 You'll not make me believe that I took her 
 For a Lord's daughter, and a great heir. Where are 
 Agurtes and the Captain to justify it ] 
 Is he your father 1 
 
 Mille. He has ever bred me ; 
 
 And I have always called him so. I hope 
 It is no shame j my parentage is honest. 
 
 Trim. Well, if he be, 'tis no disparagement 
 To marry a Justice's daughter. 
 
 Snar. Come, you have 
 
 Been carried hood-winked through this business, 
 Nor is the day clear before you. Mark me : 
 I'll open but one leaf in all the book, 
 And you shall see the whole discovery. 
 Come, sir, uncase. 
 
 [Agurtes and Autolieus pull off their disguises.
 
 Holland's leaguer. 97 
 
 Trim. Who have we here ? Agurtes 
 And the captain ! was't you that played the Justice, 
 And you his clerk 1 
 
 Snar. And I the Constable. 
 
 Trim. Then you are a knot of knaves for your 
 labour. 
 Now I perceive that I am plainly gulled. 
 
 Cap. I am glad there's no man cheated but him- 
 self. 
 
 Snar. Your arrow is one of the same quiver too. 
 
 Trim. I'll none of her, by this light. 
 
 Agu. Why you may choose, 
 
 And yet I do not well see how you can choose. 
 She is your wife and you have married her, 
 And must allow her means to maintain her. 
 You may declare yourself unto the world, 
 And be laughed at : but keep your own counsel, 
 And who needs know of it 1 
 
 Phil. Believe me, sir, 
 
 The gentlewoman is not to be despised, 
 Her wit and virtues are sufficient dowry. 
 
 Trim. Nay, if you say so, then must I needs love 
 her : 
 But by this hand I thought you would have jeered 
 me. 
 
 Phil. Hold on your course, march on as you 
 came in, 
 And rest content, since fate has thought it fit, 
 To make your fortunes equal with your wit. 
 
 G
 
 A FINE COMPANION.
 
 Acted before the King and Queene at White-Hall, and 
 sundrie times with great applause at the private-House in 
 Satisbvry Court, by the Prince his Servants. 
 
 Written by Shakerley Marmyon. 
 
 Lectori credere mallem, 
 
 Qnam spectatoris fastidia ferre superbi. — Hor. 
 
 London, Printed by Aug. Mathewes for Richard Meighen, 
 next to the Middle Temple gate in Fleet Street, 1633.
 
 This is a fair comedy of the day in which it was written. 
 The plot, such as it is, has been seized upon by many 
 writers since, so that, although fresh at the time, it 
 does not now present much novelty to those who are 
 conversant with stage-plays. It would seem to have 
 been well received. 
 
 Durfey, in his comedy of " Sir Barnaby Whig, or 
 no AVit like a Woman's" 1681, borrows from the present 
 piece, without any promise of return, much of Captain 
 Whibble's character and humour, with which to garnish 
 and trick out his " Captain Porpuss." 
 
 Sir Ralph Dutton, to whom Marmion dedicates this 
 piece, and whom he characterizes as "the truly noble, 
 and his worthy cousin in all respects," was of an 
 ancient family, dating from the time of William the 
 Conqueror, and denominated from the town of Dutton 
 in Cheshire. He was the seventh and last son of 
 William Dutton, of Sherbourne, Esq., who served the 
 office of Sheriff for the county of Gloucester in 1590 
 and 1601, by Anne, daughter to Sir Ambrose Nicholas, 
 Knight, Lord Mayor of London. His brother John, 
 (third son) became heir to his father's estate. Of him, 
 Wood has this notice; — 
 
 " John Dutton, of Sherbourne, in Gloucestershire, 
 Esq. — He was one of the Knights for that county, to 
 sit in the said Parliament, 1640 ; but being frighted 
 thence by the tumults that came up to the parliament 
 doors, as other Royalists were, he conveyed himself 
 privately to Oxford, and sate there. He was a learned 
 and a prudent man, and as one of the richest so one 
 of the meekest men in England. He was active in 
 making the defence, and drawing up the articles of 
 Oxon, when the garrison was to be surrendered to 
 the parliament. For which, and his steady loyalty, he 
 was afterwards forced to pay a round sum in Gold-
 
 102 A FINE COMPANION. 
 
 smith's-hall at London." This means that he com- 
 pounded for his estates by paying £5216, 4s. Wood 
 also informs us that, however loyal he was at the begin- 
 ning of the troubles, he thus expresses himself in his 
 will, dated 14 January, 1655 ; — " I humbly request and 
 desire, that His Highness, the Lord Protector, will be 
 pleased to take upon him the guardianship and dispos- 
 ing of my nephew, William Dutton, and of that estate 
 I, by deed of settlement, hath left him ; and that His 
 Highness would be pleased, in order to my former desires, 
 and according to the discourse that hath passed betwixt 
 us thereupon, that, when he shall come to ripeness of 
 age, a marriage may be had and solemnized betwixt my 
 said nephew, William Dutton, and the Lady Frances 
 Cromwell, his Highness's youngest daughter, which I 
 much desire, and (if it take effect) shall account it as a 
 blessing from God." 
 
 Sir Ralph Dutton, Knight, to whom this play is dedi- 
 cated, received his honour at Woodstock in 1624. In 
 Charles the First's time he was gentleman of the privy- 
 chamber in extraordinary, and High-Sheriff of Gloucester- 
 shire, in 1630 ; and, being zealously attached to the 
 interests of his sovereign in the great rebellion, his 
 estate was sequestered, for which a conqx>sition of 
 £952, 17s. Id., was paid, and he forced to fly beyond 
 sea ; but, being beaten back by contrary winds in his 
 passage from Leith to France, he was catt away on 
 " Brunt Island," and there died in the year 1646. — 
 See Collins' Peerage of England, cura Bridges. He 
 married Mary, daughter of Sir William Duncombe, of 
 London, Knight, and by her had two sons, William and 
 Ralph, the latter of whom was ancestor to the present 
 Lord Sherborne.
 
 TO THE TRULY NOBLE 
 
 and his worthy kinsman in all respects, 
 
 SIR RALPH DUTTON. 
 
 Sir. — W T e have great cause to triumph over the 
 iniquity of the times, that in all ages there wants 
 not a succession of some candid dispositions, who, 
 in spite of malice and ignorance, dare counte- 
 nance poetry, and the professors. How such an 
 excellent, and divine part of humanity should 
 fall under the least contempt, or arm the petulancy 
 of writers to declaim against her, I know not : hut 
 I guess the reason, that having their souls dark- 
 ned, and rejoicing in their errors, are offended at 
 the lustre of those arts that would enlighten them. 
 But the Fates have not so ill befriended our 
 studies, as to expose them to contempt, without 
 the protection of such, whose ability of judgment 
 can both wipe off all aspersions, and dignify 
 desert. Amongst the worthy patrons of learning 
 that can best vindicate her worth, you are not the 
 least ; and because custom and respect to noble 
 friends gives a pjiviledge to dedicate our en- 
 deavours where they may find admittance, I have 
 made bold to present this piece unto you. It hath 
 often pleas'd, and without intermission. If you 
 shall second that applause by your kind favour, it 
 shall not aspire to be more honour'd, 
 
 By him that is yours 
 
 in all observance, 
 
 SHACK. MARMYON.
 
 DRAMATIS PERSONS. 
 
 Aurelio, an elder brother disinherited. 
 Careless, his brother, the Fine Companion. 
 Dotario, an old gentleman, their uncle. 
 Fido, their friend. 
 Spruse, a young Gallant. 
 LlTTLEGOOD, an usurer. 
 Fondling, his wife. 
 Lackwit, their son. 
 
 1 A miua!'} ^daughters. 
 
 Crotchet, a clown. 
 
 Whibble, a captain. 
 
 Sterne, a lieutenant. 
 
 Tailor. 
 
 Sempster. 
 
 Haberdasher. 
 
 Hostess. 
 
 Four Wenches. 
 
 Fiddlers. 
 
 Boy. 
 
 Attendants.
 
 PROLOGUE. 
 
 Critic, Author. 
 
 Crit. Are you the author of this play 1 
 
 Auth. What then % 
 
 Crit. Out o' this poetry, I wonder what 
 You do with this disease, a seed of vipers 
 Spawned in Parnassus' pool, whom the world 
 
 frowns on, 
 And here you vent your poison on the stage. 
 
 Auth. What say you, sir 1 
 
 Crit. Oh, you are deaf to all 
 Sounds but a plaudit, and yet you may 
 Remember, if you please, what entertainment 
 Some of your tribe have had that have took pains 
 To be contemn'd, and laugbt at by the vulgar, 
 And then ascrib'd it to their ignorance. 
 I should be loth to see you move their spleens 
 With no better success, and then with some 
 Commendatory Epistles fly to the press, 
 To vindicate your credit. 
 
 Auth. What if I do 1 
 
 Crit. By my consent I'll have you 
 Banisht the stage, proscrib'd, and interdicted 
 Castalian water, and poetical fire. 
 
 Auth. In that you wrong th' approved judgments 
 of 
 This noble Auditory, who, like a sphere 
 Moved by a strong intelligence, sit round 
 To crown our infant muse, whose celestial 
 Applause she heard at her first entrance. 
 
 Crit. This way of poetry has deceiv'd many ;
 
 106 A FINE COMPANION. 
 
 For 'tis not every one that writes a verse 
 
 Has washt his mouth in Helicon, or slept 
 
 On the two-topt Parnassus ; there's great difference 
 
 Betwixt him, that shall write a lawful poem, 
 
 And one that makes a paper of loose verses 
 
 To court his looser mistress ; there's much air 
 
 Requir'd to lift up the Dircsean swan, 
 
 When he shall print his tracts among the clouds : 
 
 Not as your ignorant poetasters use, 
 
 In spite of Phoebus, without art or learning, 
 
 T" usurp the stage, and touch with impure hands 
 
 The lofty buskin, and the comic style. 
 
 Auth. This I confess ; but when the prosperous 
 gale 
 Of their auspicious breath shall fill our sails, 
 And make our high-borne thoughts swell like a 
 
 tide : 
 And when our bolder Muse shall put on buskins, 
 And clap on her Talaria on her feet, 
 Then, like swift Mercury, she may aspire 
 To a sublimer region, with that force, 
 And bear that weighty burthen on her wings, 
 That she shall fear to crack her pinions. 
 
 Grit. 'Tis this licentious generation 
 Of poets trouble the peace of the whole town ; 
 A Constable can't get his maid with child, 
 A baker nor a scrivener lose his ears. 
 Nor a Justice of peace share with his clerk ; 
 A Lord can't walk drunk with a torch before him, 
 A Gallant can't be suffer'd to pawn's breeches, 
 Or leave his cloak behind him at a tavern, 
 But you must jerk him for it. 
 
 Auth. In all ages 
 
 It hath been ever free for comic writers, 
 If there were any that were infamous, 
 For lust, ambition, or avarice, 
 To brand them with great liberty, though I
 
 A FINE COMPANION. 107 
 
 Disclaim the priviledge ; no impure language, 
 As Stygian mud stir'd up with Charon's oar 
 Ne'er belcht so foul an air, shall ever mix 
 With our ingenious mirth, nor need we fear 
 Any their foul aspersions ; whilst the Aviso 
 Sit to controul and judge, in whose clear eyes, 
 As we deserve, we look to stand or fall, 
 Passing prophaner people, and leave all 
 To be determined as you censure. Boy, 
 Go and subscribe it quickly what I say. 
 
 Crit. He's grown contemptuous, and flings away 
 In a rapture ; for this, when I am in, 
 If I can't laugh at 's play, I'll laugh at him.
 
 A FINE COMPANION. 
 
 Actus I. Scena I. 
 
 Aurelio, Valeria. 
 
 Aitr. Tis true indeed, our love is like our life ; 
 There's no man blest in either till his end. 
 And he whom Fate points to that happiness, 
 A thousand passions mock his doubtful hopes, 
 Till virtue, that can never be extinct, 
 Shall rise above their rage, and call down Hymen, 
 Attended with as many several joys, 
 To triumph in the circle of our brow. 
 
 Val. But that the fatal union of our hearts 
 Should breed such issues of extremity 
 In both our fortunes, yet the greatest grief 
 I feel, is in your wrongs, not in my own. 
 
 Aur. Ne'er think of it ! what though my father 
 made me 
 A stranger to his loins, and cut me off 
 From my inheritance, because he thought me 
 A rival in his love, that fatal love 
 Whose jealousy prevail'd so in a wooer, 
 That it kill'd all affection in a father. 
 These ill-begotten thoughts he still maintain' d, 
 And cherish t to his death, whose period 
 Of life was the beginning of my mischief: 
 For he gave all the land unto my brother, 
 One less deserving. Would I could report 
 That he had any worth, his ill wrought mind, 
 Too apt for the impression of all vice,
 
 110 A FINE COMPANION. 
 
 As if he were to strive with his estate, 
 And had no other enemy, would make 
 A conquest of his ruin. So negligent 
 Of what his father wrongfully bereft me, 
 That he spends all in riot, and so vainly, 
 As if he meant to throw it after him. 
 Only he has a foolish flashing wit, 
 Too weak to sustain, or prevent his fall, 
 But no solidity of mind or judgment. 
 And now imagines he can salve it up, 
 By being styl'd a " Fine Companion." 
 Let that entitle him to all my right, 
 Whilst I, secure in my imputed crime, 
 Think thee a better portion ; all my fault 
 Was honesty, and true affection. 
 
 Vol. And those still envious fate insults upon. 
 But we will live together, and what e'er 
 Shall interpose to poison our true love, 
 Still triumph o'er their malice. 
 
 , Aur. Dear Valeria, 
 
 Had fortune pleas'd to place me in that means 
 My birth assur'd me, we had spent our life 
 Lull'd in the lap of peace, our days had run 
 Smooth as the feet of Time, free from all tumults. 
 
 Vol. And why not still 1 
 
 Aur. It may do so, but I 
 
 Have not a fortune equal to your virtues, 
 And to support the title of your worth. 
 
 Tal. My mind was never yet ambitious, 
 And there is nothing but your company 
 Can satisfy, or limit my desires. 
 
 Aur. I love you better than to injure you. 
 I will resign you to some richer heir, 
 Whose heaps of wealth left by his greedy father, 
 Untoucht as is your goodness, may advance you, 
 And make you happy. Think on't ! be not cruel 
 To your own self.
 
 A FINE COMPANION. Ill 
 
 Aur. Oh, how have I deserv'd that you should 
 think 
 So ill of me 1 You may divorce the ivy 
 The vine from her embraces, me you cannot. 
 Where is the care you wont to have of me ] 
 What is my fault 1 you can be well without me, 
 And I shall please you best when I am absent. 
 
 Aur. Nay, my Valeria, do not weep so sore ! 
 Thy grief adds more to mine. It is enough 
 I part from thee, my heart with drops of blood 
 Pays tribute to the ocean of thy tears ; 
 This treasure of thine eyes, if spent for those 
 That lye unterr'd, wanting their funeral rites, 
 And restless walk upon the Stygian strand, 
 So long as fate has limited their curse, 
 Would send them over to Elizium. 
 One grain of that same grief which clogs her heart, 
 Would lye in balance 'gainst the universe. 
 The joy and happiness of all mankind 
 Are given to me in her, and she was born 
 T' upbraid the world, and tell them they are false. 
 
 Pa. What shall I do when you are ravished from 
 me? 
 Could Portia rather swallow glowing coals 
 Than burn with a desire of her lost Brutus 1 
 Shall the example to those times descend 
 To shame my love 1 Could the ./Egyptian Queen 
 Rather endure the poignant stings of adders 
 Than that of death which wounded Antony 1 
 And must I then survive you 1 can I live, 
 When you that are my soul are taken from me 1 
 Oh 'tis not now as when Penelope 
 Could stay ten years the coming of her love, 
 And span a tedious web of foolish thoughts, 
 In expectation. 
 
 Aur. Faith that fled to heaven, 
 And truth, that after once men's hearts grew cold,
 
 112 A FINE COMPANION. 
 
 Would go no longer naked, now again 
 
 Are come to dwell with mortals. Here's a woman, 
 
 In whose comparison all wealth is sordid ; 
 
 And since she proves so constant, fate itself 
 
 Shall not be blam'd for me that I forsook her. 
 
 Actus I. Scena II. 
 
 Enter Littlegood. 
 
 Lit. Are you so well resolv'd 1 but I may cross 
 you. 
 
 Vol. Oh me, my father, I am quite undone ! 
 I am no body. 
 
 Lit. Yes, you are the wickedst, 
 The most ungracious child that ever lived 
 Under so good a government, but that 
 Shall turn to tyranny, since your discretion 
 Can not distinguish of the difference. 
 Have I — what should I say ] — cherisht you up, 
 With tenderness and costly education, 
 To have you made a sacrifice to beggary, 
 To one that's cut off, disinherited, 
 The son of the people 1 
 
 Aur. Pray, sir, forbear ! 
 
 My wrongs do not permit you to abuse me. 
 
 Lit. Sir ! 'tis most basely done of you, to use 
 The charity and freedom of my house, 
 Thus to seduce my daughter : but for that, 
 If you can keep her as well from your mind, 
 As I can from your sight, you may, in time, 
 Learn to forget her. You were best go travel, 
 Repair yourself by some new found plantation, 
 Not think to supplant my issue. This place 
 Is moraliz'd with thrift and industry, 
 Suits not with men of your condition, 
 That have no stock but their gentry. Get you in !
 
 A FINE COMPANION. 113 
 
 And, for your part, sir, know my house no more, 
 I'll provide her a husband. So, farewell ! 
 
 Am: Howe'er I speed, comfort attend thee still, 
 And so my best Valeria, farewell ! 
 
 Actus I. Scena III. 
 
 Careless, Fido. 
 
 Car. Ne'er tell me on't, a gentleman must shew 
 himself to be a gentleman. 
 
 Fid. Ay, so he must, sir, but in you there's small 
 resemblance of one. 
 
 Car. Come, you are an importunate ass ! a dull, 
 heavy fellow, and I must bear with you, must I ? 
 By this light ! I will not live out of the blaze of my 
 fortunes, though it last but a minute, to linger out 
 a tedious siege of adversities. 
 
 Fid. Yet you may live with more credit, at a 
 competent rate as your land will allow you. 
 
 Car. Land 1 There was my unhappiness to have 
 any, I was born to none, 'twas merely thrust upon 
 me, and now I cannot be quiet for it ; 'tis like a 
 wife that brings a thousand impediments ; I must 
 take an order, I cannot walk the streets in peace, 
 your Magnifico stops his great horse to salute me, 
 another treats of marriage, and offers me his 
 daughter, your advocate racks me with imperti- 
 nences, and to free my land from incumbrances 
 troubles me ten times worse. What with friends 
 and counsellors, fellows that seem to me of another 
 species, I could resign my interest. 
 
 Fid. All this, sir, is a grace to you, if you conceive 
 it. 
 
 Car. I'll sell all ! 'twere a sin to keep it. When 
 didst thou know an elder brother disinherited 
 and the land continue with the issue 1 Now for me 
 
 H
 
 114 A FINE COMPANION. 
 
 to live thriftily upon it were no otherwise than to 
 mock fate and contemn providence. 
 
 Fid. But noAV you know the danger, you may 
 prevent it. 
 
 Car. What ! should I doat upon casualties, trust 
 scriveners with my money, fellows that will break, 
 and all the wit in town can't solder them up again ] 
 
 Fid. You may scorn my advice, but when 'tis 
 too late — 
 
 Car. I tell thee, I'll keep no land, nor no 
 houses, candle rents that are subject to fire and 
 ruin, I can't sleep for fear of them. There's no 
 danger in coin, 'twill make a man respected, drink, 
 and be drunk, wear good clothes, and live as free 
 as a Parthian. 
 
 Fid. But when all's gone, where's your respect 
 and gentility then 1 
 
 Car. Where is't 1 why, in my blood still ; we'll 
 both run one course ne'er out of the vein, I warrant 
 thee. 
 
 Fid. If you can hold in this vein 'tis more lasting 
 than a mineral. 
 
 Car. Prithee, good honest, old patcht piece of 
 experience, go home and wear thyself out in con- 
 templation, and do not vex me with problems. 
 They can do no more good upon me, than a young 
 pitiful lover upon a mistress that has the sullens. 
 
 Fid. Well, sir ! I could willingly wait upon you 
 in the way of honour and reputation. 
 
 Car. No, no, you shall not need my homo frugi. 
 Go about your business, and though men of my 
 quality do seldom part with any thing for good 
 uses, for gamesters and courtiers have but little 
 charity, yet, for this once, I will trespass against 
 custom, and here's something to put you into a 
 fortune. I could wish it more, but you know how 
 my man has used me, and my occasions.
 
 A FINE COMPANION. 1 15 
 
 Fid. I see yet in his good nature a reluctancy 
 against ill courses, he has not quite shak'd off his 
 humanity, there are hopes to reclaim him; if not, 
 sir gallant, when all is spent, the return of this 
 money will be grateful ; and so, farewell ! 
 
 [Exit Fido. 
 
 Car. Adieu, and commend me to my uncle ! tell 
 the mechanics without that I vouchsafe them ad- 
 mittance. I will not spend all in whoring and sack. 
 I will have some clothes of value, though they be 
 but to pawn in a vacation. For this purpose, I 
 have sent this morning to consult with the authenti- 
 cal judgements of my tailor, sempster, and haber- 
 dasher ; and now am I studying with what state I 
 shall use them. 
 
 Actus I. Scena IV. 
 Careless, Tailor, Sempster, Haberdasher. 
 
 Car. Come in, fellows ! I sent for you together, 
 because you should receive your instructions : I am 
 to make me a suit, and I would have you deter- 
 mine about the form and the accoutrements, for the 
 fitting of the points and the garters, and the roses, 
 and the colours of them. Nature is much 
 beholding to you, though there be a difference in 
 the accidents yet you can reconcile them, and 
 make them suit handsomely together. I am a gentle- 
 man, and would not be disgrac'd for my irregularity. 
 
 Tai. You say well, sir. 
 
 Car. I tell you my disposition, I am wholly 
 addicted to rarities, things that are new take me ; 
 new plays, new mistresses, new servants, new toys, 
 new fangles, new friends, and new fashions, and 
 these I deal with, as in a quarrel 1 would not be 
 behind hand with any of them. 
 
 Semp. Sir, you shall command our endeavours.
 
 116 A FINE COMPANION. 
 
 Car. I thought fit to take your advice, and you 
 are beholding to me ; you are the only man in the 
 world that can rule me. 
 
 Rah. Sir, for curiosity we have the maidenheads 
 of all the wits in Europe, and to your service we 
 will employ both our art and our industry. 
 
 Car. I am informed of your qualities, I hear you 
 are men of intelligence. By this light, I wonder the 
 state is not afraid of you. 
 
 Tai. We hope they have no reason for that, 
 sir. 
 
 Car. Yes, you are dangerous fellows, and have 
 plots and devices upon men's bodies, and are 
 suspected to be sorcerers, that can transform a man 
 into what shape you list. 
 
 Tai. It pleases you to be merry, sir. 
 
 Car. Nay, by this hand, 'tis given out, that you 
 are great scholars, and are skill'd in all the habitual 
 arts, and know their coherences, and that you are 
 a kind of astrologers, observers of times and 
 seasons, and for making of matches, beyond all the 
 gallants in the Kingdom. 
 
 Tai. We would match things as near as we could, 
 sir. 
 
 Car. And besides that, you are proud of your 
 knowledge, for when you have once got a man's 
 good name, you make what account you list of it. 
 
 Hub. Not so, sir. 
 
 Car. Yes, and presume upon't, and think what 
 ever injury you do a man you can be saved by 
 your book. This is true, and care not a pin of the 
 law, for you hold good custom to be far beyond it. 
 
 Semp. We would be loth to give any gentleman 
 distaste, sir. 
 
 Car. I must commend you, in that you are not 
 partial, for you make the like reckoning of every 
 man. Well, to the purpose !
 
 A FINE COMPANION. 1 1 7 
 
 Tai. You'll have your suit of the Spanish 
 fashion 1 
 
 Car. What, with two wallets behind me, to put up 
 faults and abuses, or else I'll cashier my men, and 
 they shall serve me for attendants, hangers on, ha 1 
 No, by this air, I am too good a gentleman to have 
 my arms trickt up with such gewgaws. 
 
 Tai. Sir, you must be conformable. 
 
 Car. Well, I am content to be persuaded. When 
 shall I have them 1 
 
 Tai. You shall not miss within these three 
 days, and what else is requisite, trust to my care to 
 apply it. 
 
 Car. Well, I am satisfied, and hereafter believe 
 me, as I believe thee. 
 
 Enter Boy. 
 
 Boy. Sir, Master Spruse is come to visit you. 
 
 Car. Master Spruse 1 prithee bid him come up ! 
 Well, there's a gentleman, of all I know, can justly 
 claim admiration, for his compliment, his discourse, 
 his habit, his acquaintance, and then for proffering 
 of courtesies, and never doing any ; I may give 
 away all I have, before I shall arrive at the grace 
 of it. 
 
 Hab. Pray, sir, when did you see the noble 
 captain '{ 
 
 Car. Who, Captain Whibble 1 Mass ! now I think 
 on't thou shalt go seek him out, and entreat him to 
 meet me at the Horse-shoe Tavern at dinner. I love 
 that house for the sign's sake, 'tis the very print of 
 the shoe that Pegasus wore, when he broke up 
 Helicon with his hoof! and now, in relation of that, 
 your poets and players still haunt about the 
 brinks of it. Sirrah, tell him withall, that Master 
 Lackwit the citizen's son will be there, and other 
 good company, and we will have music and
 
 118 A FINE COMPANION. 
 
 wenches. Go thy ways ! and you Master Snip, meet 
 me about three a clock to take up these commodi- 
 ties, so now I have done with you. 
 
 Actus I. Scena V. 
 
 Careless, Spruse, with one garter untied, and a 
 black box at his girdle. 
 
 Spru. Save you, Master Careless ! 
 
 Car. Master Spruse you have much honour'd me 
 with your presence. 
 
 Spru. I met with a disaster coming up. Something 
 has ravisht the tassel of my garter, and discompos'd 
 the whole fabric, 'twill cost me an hour's patience to 
 reform it ; I had rather have seen the Common- 
 wealth out of order. 
 
 Car. Sure, it was not fast tied to your leg. 
 
 Spru. As fast together, as the fashion is for 
 friends now a-days to be tied, with certain knots 
 of compliment, which the least occasion dis-joins. 
 I'll only tuck it up, and, when my better leisure 
 permits, reduce it to perfection. 
 
 Car. What box have you there 1 
 
 Spru. A conceit, a conceit ! a rare invention, one 
 of the happiest that ever my wit teem'd withall. 
 
 Car. Bless me with the discovery. 
 
 Spru. You shall swear to be silent then 1 
 
 Car. As close as that covering. 
 
 Sjiru. Then, look you ! I will participate the 
 mystery ; this pettyfogging box promises that I 
 have great suits in law, this is to delude the world 
 now. But I must tell you I am a kind of a solici- 
 tor, an earnest suitor to every wench I see. 
 
 Car. Very pretty ! proceed. 
 
 Spru. What do you think I have in this box 
 then 1 
 
 Car. I know not.
 
 A FINE COMPANION. 119 
 
 Spru. A bundle of blank love letters, ready 
 penned with as much vehemency of affection, as I 
 could get for money, only wanting the superscrip- 
 tion of their names, to whom they shall be directed, 
 which I can instantly and with ease indorse upon 
 acquaintance. 
 
 Car. And so send them to your mistress ? 
 
 Spru. You understand me. I no sooner fall into 
 discourse with any lady, but I profess myself 
 ardently in love with her, and, being departed, re- 
 turn my boy with one of these letters, to second 
 it as I said, passionately deciphering how much I 
 languish for her, which she cannot but deeply appre- 
 hend, together with the quickness and promptitude 
 of my ingenuity in the dispatch of it. 
 
 Car. I'll practise this device. Prithee let me see 
 one of them ! What's here ] " To the fair hands 
 of—" 
 
 Spru. Ay, there wants a name : they fit any 
 degree or person whatsoever. 
 
 Car. Let me see this then ! " To the lady and 
 mistress of his thoughts, and service." 
 
 Spru. There wants a name too. They are general 
 things. 
 
 Car. I'll open it, by your favour, sir. What's here] 
 " Most resplendent lady, that may justly be styled 
 the accomplishment of beauty, the seat and man- 
 sion of all delight and virtue, in whom meet the 
 joy and desires of the happy. Some man here per- 
 haps might fear, in praising your worth, to 
 heighten your disdain, but I am forc'd, though to 
 the peril of my neglect, to acknowledge it ; for to 
 this hour my curious thoughts, and wandering, in 
 the sphere of feminine perfection, could never yet 
 find out a subject like your self, that could so de- 
 tain and command my affection." 
 
 Spru. And so it goes on. How do you like it J
 
 120 A FINE COMPANION. 
 
 t 
 
 Car. Admirable good ! put them up again. 
 
 Spry* Nay, I have so strange a wit, few men do 
 jump with it. 
 All my delights are steept in elegancy, 
 And censur'd by an arbitration, 
 Before I do approve them ; I have searcht 
 The dust of antiquity to find out 
 The rare inventions that I am verst in, 
 My several garbs and postures of the body, 
 My rules for banqueting, and entertainment : 
 And for the titillation of my laughter 
 Buffoons and parasites, for I must tell you 
 I still affect a learned luxury. 
 
 Car. You have a very complete suit on too, me- 
 thinks. 
 
 Spru. 'Tis as fresh as the morning, and that's the 
 grace on't. A new play, and a gentleman in a new 
 suit, claim the same privilege ; at their first pre- 
 sentment their estimation is double. 
 
 Car. And whither now do your employments 
 direct you 1 
 
 Spru. I took your lodging by the way. I am 
 going to dazzle the eyes of the ladies with my ap- 
 parition. 
 
 Car. I am not so conformable as I could wish, or 
 else I would attend you. I took up a new man, 
 for pity's sake, some three days since, to wait upon 
 me, which foolish sin I will abandon whilst I live, 
 for it. He ran away with two hundred pounds, 
 the remnant of a mortgage, and since that I was 
 put to a new perplexity to supply me. 
 
 Spru. By this hand, if you had spoke but 
 yesterday I could have furnisht you. 
 
 Car. Why, what a rare way is here now, to 
 engage a man for nothing ! I must study it. 
 
 Spru. How does your brother digest the loss of 
 his inheritance 1
 
 A FINE COMPANION. 121 
 
 Car. Very well sure, for sometimes he has 
 nothing else to digest ; and he has enough of that 
 too ; it sticks in his stomach worse than a surfeit. 
 Alas, we landed men are but fools to him, it makes 
 him sober, and wise, very temperate. 
 
 Sprit. There's Valeria! a foolish peevish thing 
 that he calls mistress, good for nothing but to whet 
 a man's wit, and make a whore on. I can't believe 
 there's any real love between them. 
 
 Car. Has she received any of your letters ] 
 
 Spru. Yes, twenty, and nothing will prevail. I 
 have sought to corrupt her any time this twelve 
 month, and can do no good on her; her father gives 
 me opportunity out of pretence of good will, but I 
 use it clean contrary ; for alas, I cannot love any 
 wench farther than to lye with her. I cannot fashion 
 my tongue to speak in any other character. I 
 would not willingly lose all this time and labour. 
 I'll make short of it, either work her to obedience, 
 or do her a mischief. 
 
 Car. 'Tis well resolved, and there's her sister 
 iEmilia; she will glance sometimes affectionately 
 upon me. Were it not a mad thing, when I have 
 sold all my land to her father to get her into ad- 
 vantage 1 I think that will be the end of it. 
 
 Spru. Methinks Lackwit, her brother, might 
 stand thee in some stead for the conveyance. 
 
 Car. Well, 'tis the truest spaniel that ! I put a 
 hundred jeers upon him, and yet he loves me the 
 better. I can pawn him as familiarly as my cloak. 
 
 Spru. The time calls upon me, 
 
 Car. I'll dismiss you ! will you present my service 
 to the ladies and excuse me 1 
 
 Spru. I shall be proud to make my tongue the 
 organ of your commands, sir. 
 
 Car. I will hold you no longer from your 
 happiness, but I shall envy the intercourse of your 
 mirth. [Exeunt.
 
 122 A FINE COMPANION. 
 
 Actus I. Scena VI. 
 
 DOTARIO, FIDO. 
 
 Dot. Then he is past hope 1 
 
 Fid. He has no sense of his misery ; a strong 
 stupidity, a lethargy has possest him. His disease 
 is infectious, it has caught hold of his estate, and 
 brought that into a consumption. 
 
 Dot. No means to reclaim him 1 
 
 Fid. I know not what to apply. When remedies 
 are hurtful, give him good counsel, and you poison 
 him. 
 
 Dot. I would my brother had been better 
 advised, than to give his land to a prodigal. 
 
 Fid. Fitter indeed the right heir should have 
 had it. You might do well to turn your compassion 
 upon him ; a poor injured gentleman, and stands 
 equal in your blood. 
 
 Dot. No, I'll marry a wife, and get an heir of 
 mine own. I have made a motion to Master Little- 
 good, the usurer, about one of his daughters, and 
 we are partly agreed ; I am going to ask her good 
 will in it. 
 
 Fid. Look you, sir. Pray, stand by ! here he 
 comes with his train. 
 
 Enter Careless, Captain, Lieutenant. 
 
 Car. Is it not well resolv'd, Captain 1 
 
 Cap. Yes, by the soul of Hercules ! tis a good 
 foresight, to sell all and prevent misfortunes. The 
 world's full of uncertainties : Land may be barren, 
 servants deceitful, make money I say, and what a 
 man spends with his friends shall ne'er perish. 
 
 Lieu. I say, by the heart of valour ! that man 
 lives best at ease that has no money at all. 
 
 Car. What shall he do then, Lieutenant 1
 
 A FINE COMPANION. 123 
 
 Lieu. By the faith of a soldier ! for the exercise 
 of his wits he may do any thing : if all trades fail 
 he may turn pimp, 'tis a noble profession to live by. 
 If he can perform that office well, he need ask no 
 more of his Genius. 
 
 Copt. Body of me ! nor no better preferment. 
 
 Lieu. As I am a sinner ! 'tis a good science, a 
 mathematical mystery of undermining holds, and, 
 when the breach is open, be the first man that 
 shall enter. 
 
 Car. But I think there be so many of them, they 
 can hardly live one for another. 
 
 Lieu. As I am virtuous ! 'tis grown into credit, 
 and you have very good men that study it. Good 
 knights and squires that have thriv'd by it. 
 
 Capt. Stab me ! what sullen Saturn is that, looks 
 so oblique upon us 1 as I am martial I will con- 
 front his aspect. 
 
 Car. Good Captain, be appeas'd ! it is my uncle, I 
 cannot avoid him ; let me entreat your absence for 
 a while ! meet me at the Horse-shoe. 
 
 Capt. Fire of my blood! you shall rule me. Come, 
 Lieutenant ! [Exeunt Captain and Lieutenant. 
 
 Actus I. Scena VII. 
 
 Dotario, Careless, Fido. 
 
 Dot. Shall I speak or hold my peace 1 
 
 Car. E'en which you please, good uncle. 
 
 Lot. Ay, 'tis all one to you, for any impression I 
 shall make. Would I could refrain to take notice of 
 you, but still nature oversways me, and affection 
 breaks out into counsel, but to no purpose. 
 
 Car. Troth, uncle, youth will have his swing. 
 
 Dot. Ay, upon a gallows ! if you hold on, that will
 
 124 A FINE COMPANION. 
 
 be the end of yon. That I should live to see my 
 brother's goods so misspent, the life of his labours 
 suckt out by such horseleeches ! 
 
 Car. Horseleeches ! do you know what you say ] 
 No, you do not apprehend the worth that dwells in 
 these men. To see how a man may be mistaken in 
 the distinction of virtue ! 
 
 Fid. Nay, sir, 'tis as I told you : — you may as soon 
 recall an arrow when 'tis flying, or a stone from 
 praecipice, as reclaim him. 
 
 Car. Oh uncle, that you should thus carp at my 
 happiness, and traduce my comradoes, men of such 
 spirit and valour. 
 
 Dot. Yes,- Captain and Lieutenant ! how a ven- 
 gence came they by these titles 1 fellows that 
 have been only flesht in the ruin of black pots, 
 and glass windows, the very scum of all rudeness. 
 
 Car. Have you any money about you ? 
 
 Dot. What to do % 
 
 Car. Bribe me to keep counsel. You are but a 
 dead man if they know on't : you have puft out 
 your soul in their calumnies. 
 
 Fid. Hang them ! fellows so sordid that no dis- 
 grace can stick upon them ; they are choice com- 
 pany, for there's hardly the like of them. A man 
 cannot discern the ground of their discourse for 
 oaths. Unless you were divorced from all reason, 
 you would not be wedded to such acquaintance. 
 
 Car. Why, how now, mongrel, are you barking 1 
 By this air ! 'tis an indignity to my discretion, 
 that is so happy in the election of their virtues : the 
 only prime wits in town, things come so rarely 
 from them, a man is kept in a perpetual appetite. 
 I would not let them stay to offend you, neither 
 can I endure their reproach. Farewell, uncle. 
 
 [Exit Careless.
 
 A FINE COMPANION. 125 
 
 Dot. Well, I will not trouble myself any more to 
 look after him. I'll marry and thrust him out of 
 all. That's the conclusion. 
 
 Desinit actus pnimus. 
 
 Actus II. Scena I. 
 
 Spruse, Littlegood, Valeria. 
 
 Spr. But are you certain of it 1 
 
 Lit. I o'erheard it, 
 
 When she did plot her own destruction, 
 And seal'd it Avith her hand, and kist upon't. 
 You know Aurelio ? 
 
 Spr. Yes, sir ! was it he] 
 
 Lit. That beggar, that undone thnig ! 
 
 Spr. Let me alone 
 
 To fetch her off the quick-sands, and then I'll 
 
 board her, 
 And steer her myself. 
 
 Lit. That I were so happy 
 
 To know she lov'd you. Huswife, do you hear 1 
 Here is a gentleman has laud and means, 
 And wit, and beauty, more I wis than tother : 
 Make much of him, and what he says be ruled by 
 him. 
 
 Spr. Let me alone, 1 warrant you. 
 
 Lit. I leave you. [Exit Littlegood. 
 
 Spr. Now all the powers of love assist me in it, 
 To counterfeit a passion and dissemble. 
 All my delight's to fool them, and, then leave 
 
 them. 
 I serve your women as the Hollanders 
 Do by some towns they get \ when they have won 
 them
 
 126 A FINE COMPANION. 
 
 They slight them straight. Now I address myself. 
 Lady, how fare you 1 You are melancholy. 
 
 Val. If you do know't so well, why do you ask 
 
 mel 
 Spr. Tis from the tender care I have of you : 
 But an ill fate pursues my true endeavours, 
 To have them still misconstrued. 'Tis not well 
 
 done, 
 To lay the burthen of your cruelty 
 On my affection, and to make that faith, 
 The passive subject of your dire disdain, 
 That is so active in obedience. 
 Val. Pray, let me counsel you. 
 Spr. Counsel! what's that? 
 Not Phoebus with his art, or all the drugs 
 Of Thessaly can ease my grief ; the sea 
 Knows no such strait as I now labour in. 
 Val. "Why ! what's the matter 1 
 Spr. Oh, my heart, my heart ! 
 Would you would rip it up, that you might see 
 Yourself enthron'd, and all my faculties 
 Paying their homage to your memory. 
 I think I do it indifferently. 
 
 Val. All this and more, lovers can speak at 
 
 pleasure. 
 Sp>r. Propose a course how I might win belief: 
 Were there a way to it, as deep with danger 
 As to the centre, I will search it out — 
 When I have nothing else to do. 
 
 Val. Your thoughts have found such easy utter- 
 ance, 
 That I suspect their truth • they seem to savour 
 Of art, more than of passion. I have heard 
 Great griefs are silent, neither do I find 
 Those symptoms of affection in your looks. 
 You change no colour, and your joints are steady, 
 Your eyes appear too full of petulancy,
 
 A FINE COMPANION. 127 
 
 As if they did reflect with inward scorn, 
 T' upbraid your falsehood. 
 
 Spr. Now, by all my hopes, 
 By all the rites that crown a happy union, 
 And by the rosy tincture of your cheeks, 
 And by your all subduing eyes, more bright 
 Than heaven — 
 
 Vol. Hold there ! 
 
 Spr. I prize you 'bove the world. 
 What should I say, when vows cannot prevail : 
 If you persist, and still so cruel be, 
 I'll swear there's no plague like love's tyranny. 
 And all this while I do not care a pin for her. 
 
 [Aside. 
 
 Veil. I have engaged it to your friend already. 
 
 Spr. But love makes no distinction. 
 
 Val. If you say so, 
 
 I must debar my heart the knowledge of you. 
 
 Spr. This will not do, I must be more lascivious. 
 Come, my fair Venus, sit by thy Adonis. 
 What, do you start 1 are you afraid of love, 
 That is all fair, and from whose brightest heaven 
 Are blown away all swol'n clouds of despair ] 
 His brow is smooth, and all his face beset 
 With banks full of delight, a golden chain 
 Of wanton smiles hangs round about his neck ; 
 And all his way before him strew'd Avith roses. 
 Come let us sit and dally, taste those pleasures. 
 Love is no niggard, we may eat and surfeit, 
 And yet our dainties still remain as fresh, 
 As they were never toucht. 
 
 Val. Is't come to that 1 
 
 I thought whither you tended. I am unskillful : 
 Untaught in those deep, but ill mysteries. 
 
 Spr. I'll teach you all, and lead your wand'ring 
 steps
 
 128 A FINE COMPANION. 
 
 Through all those ways, where to find the way- 
 Will be to lose it. 
 
 Vol. I am very sorry, 
 
 The time's disease has so prevailed upon you. 
 'Tis the perfection now of compliment, 
 The only end to corrupt honesty. 
 To prostitute your oaths, and win our hearts 
 To your belief, is the Court eloquence. 
 
 Spr. These are harsh tunes, and ill become your 
 beauty, 
 Whose proper passion should be wantonness. 
 Why should you lose the benefit of youth, 
 And the delights 1 give freedom to your will ! 
 When age and weakness mortify your thoughts, 
 You may correct this looseness. 
 
 Vol. Sir, I cannot 
 
 Hear you with safety. 
 
 Spr. I must die then. I am slain, unless 
 Those words, and smiles, that wounded me, do 
 heal me. 
 
 Veil. Had I known that, I'd have condemned 
 them both 
 To silence and obscurity. 
 
 Spr. You had then 
 
 Robb'd nature of her best perfection, 
 And that had been a sacriledge. Nay, sweet, 
 Your beauty is a thing communicable, 
 And though you do impart, you may retain it. 
 
 Val. Sir, I have summ'd th' accounts of all your 
 cares, 
 And I do find their number more than weight. 
 Things but of custom with you, and your vows 
 Are but a cloud of wind, and emptiness ; 
 Forc'd by the storm of lust. When it is over, 
 And your thoughts calm'd, then you will love that 
 
 virtue, 
 Which as a tie and anchor did withhold you
 
 A FINE COMPANION. 129 
 
 From driving to destruction. So I leave you. 
 
 [Exit Valeria. 
 Spr. That ever any woman should be virtuous ! 
 I have enclos'd a fire within my breast, 
 Will burn this frame of nature into cinders. 
 Her beauty has surpris'd me, I am caught 
 In lovi' ; by this light ! 'twere a mad jest now 
 If I should turn honest, and woo her so : 
 If she persists, I must do so believ't, 
 And hate myself, as long as I live for it. 
 Well, I have played so long about the candle, 
 That my wings are sing'd with it ; she is honest ! 
 I see it, and that's something in this age. 
 Out of these doubts some strange thing will arise, 
 A strong disease must have strong remedies. 
 
 Actus II. Scene II. 
 
 LlTTLEGOOD, CROCHET. 
 
 Lit. Crochet, where are you % 
 
 Cro. I am here, sir ! 
 
 Lit. Crochet, you know, that I am determined to 
 marry my other daughter ^Einilia to old Dotario 
 the citizen ? 
 
 Cro. Yes, sir ! and then she and I shall be both 
 in one predicament. 
 
 Lit. How so, man ] 
 
 Cro. Why sir, for aught that I can perceive, she 
 is like to have but a cold reversion, and that's the 
 ordinary allowance for men of my function. There's 
 not so much left of him, as will satisfy a lady's 
 appetite for once; he is pickt to the very bones with 
 age and diseases. 
 
 Lit. 'Tis no matter so long as his purse is well 
 cram'd. 
 
 Cro. His purse that she looks after is lank enough, 
 I warrant it. It grieves me to the heart, that such 
 
 I
 
 130 A FINE COMPANION. 
 
 a young beginner las my mistress should have no 
 better hopes of trading. 
 
 Lit. Belike thou think'st that nature is uncharit- 
 able in him 1 no, he has benevolence in store for her. 
 What because he is old, I am old myself, man. 
 
 Cro. And if he were older 'twere no great matter. 
 
 Lit. If I were older, knave ? 
 
 Cro. No, sir, if he were older. 
 
 Lit. Why 1 what then 1 
 
 Cro. His death would the sooner make her hon- 
 ourable : for having one foot in the bed, and the other 
 in the grave, if she be rul'd by me, 'tis but her 
 giving him a lift, and the next turn marry with a 
 Lord. 
 
 Lit. Sayst thou me so 1 
 
 Cro. Yes, sir, a citizen's wife no sooner casts her 
 rider, but one of your Court gallants mounts her 
 presently. 
 
 Lit. The knave is very pleasant. 
 
 Cro. Why, sir, your citizen's widows are the only 
 rubbish of the Kingdom, to fill up the breaches of 
 decayed houses. 
 
 Lit. What's her preferment, then, Crochet 1 
 
 Cro. Why then, sir, she shall be made a Lady at the 
 least, and take the place of her mother. She shall 
 have clients wait at her gates with presents, and yet 
 have their servile offices pass unregarded, she shall 
 manage her husband's estate, and advise him in his 
 office. 
 
 Lit. Is that all % 
 
 Cro. No, sir, she shall have more privileges than 
 that : to be as proud as she list, and have new ways 
 to express it ; she shall ride up and down in her 
 litter, and have a coach and four horses to follow 
 after, full of gentlemen ushers and waiting women. 
 
 Lit. And yet the foolish girl will not perceive it 1 
 
 Cro. Alas, sir, though you and I have so much
 
 A FINE COMPANION. 131 
 
 wit to look into these things, how should my young 
 mistress be capable of it, when her husband that 
 shall be is not able to put the case to her % 
 
 Lit. Go ! fetch her hither ; I'll advise myself. 
 {Exit Crochet.) 0, these perverse girls, that are led 
 with nothing, but fancy foolish things, and yet 
 have wit to be obstinate. If they set upon a toy, 
 they must have it because they are willful, then they 
 are as changeable in love as a cameleon, and think 
 they can live by the air of it. They will venture 
 to sell their fathers' fortunes and their own, for a 
 night's lodging. 
 
 Actus II. Scena III. 
 Enter Littlegood, ^Emilia, and Crochet. 
 
 Lit. Come, iEmilia ! these showers are unseason- 
 able. They will extinguish the torch, that should 
 burn bright before thy nuptial ; be not dismay'd, 
 you are young and so is Aurora : she looks fresh 
 every morning, yet disdains not to kiss her old 
 Tithon, and lyes all night with him, and, when she 
 rises, betrays with her blushes the wanton heat of 
 her paramour. 
 
 JEmi. Good sir, think your power may command 
 my duty, but not my affection. 
 
 Lit. Tempt not my patience! I would not will- 
 ingly use the authority of a father to command, 
 what I had rather win by entreaty. 
 
 JEmi You know, sir, the inconvenience still 
 happens to these fore'd matches: they never come 
 to good, and, if you compel me to like of him, you 
 must expect the same issue; you shall never make 
 me any other president. 
 
 Lit. Not when I entreat you ? 
 
 JEriii. I shall never love him. 
 
 Cro. And you know, sir, what an ominous thing
 
 132 A FINE COMPANION. 
 
 it is, when a woman does not love her husband ; 
 she will either cuckold him, or poison him, and so 
 be burnt for a martyr in wedlock. 
 
 Lit. She must fashion herself to love him ; I have 
 undertook it. 
 
 Cro. And then I'll undertake for the tother. 
 
 Lit. Will she have her liberty restrain'd 1 will 
 Ehe renounce my protection ] shall not I dispose of 
 her 1 if not, let her use her pleasure, betray herself 
 like her other sister to beggary, be like Scylla, cut 
 the purple hair of my life, and then turn monster, 
 let her ! 
 
 Mmi. Oh ! me, what shall I do 1 Would my 
 life were a sacrifice ! 
 
 Lit. I'll tell you what you shall do, be advis'd ; 
 refuse not a good offer, think of old Dotario, think 
 how to love him, think of his wealth, think of his 
 honour, think of me, think of yourself, think of 
 what will come after, if you he stubborn. 
 
 Cro. And whate'er you think to do, say nothing, 
 Mistress. 
 
 Lit. Well Crochet, I'll leave thee to persuade her 
 whilst I fetch the old man to confirm it. 
 
 [Exit Littlegoodi 
 
 Almi. my distracted thoughts, and the rash 
 counsel 
 Of love and hatred, when they are oppos'd 
 By avarice of parents, that confine 
 Their children's fancies to their sordid mind. 
 Were the, bright sun their offspring, they would 
 
 join him 
 Unto the earth, if gold might be engend'red. 
 We in ourselves have no part if deharred 
 The election of our love, and our condition 
 Is worse than beasts, whose will acknowledged 
 No check in that ; the turtle takes her mate 
 Without compulsion, and, in summer's prime,
 
 A FINE COMPANION. 133 
 
 Each bird will choose out her own valentine. 
 
 Cro. Well, mistress, you do not apprehend the 
 good you may have by marrying of an old man. 
 
 JEmi. Prithee, what good ] 
 
 Cro. First, besides the honour he shall confer 
 upon you by his age, you shall not find him so fiery 
 and unruly as commonly your youths are, and 
 thereupon, being cold of his tempter, you may the 
 easier manage him. 
 
 JEmi. Thy mirth comes importunely on my grief. 
 
 Cro. Then you shall be his darling, and he shall 
 dote upon you, and, though he strives to please you 
 never so much, he shall lament that he can do it 
 no better, and acknowledge his weakness, that he 
 comes short of your desert, and what he desires, 
 and be sorry that all he has is too little for you. 
 
 JEmi. I perceive it well enough, Crochet. 
 
 Cro. The only thing that you need fear him for 
 is his tongue, for they say old men are great 
 talkers, but you'll match that member well enough, 
 and for any other part about him, you'll have but 
 little to do withal. 
 
 Actus II. Scena IV. 
 Enter to them Littlegood, Dotapjo. 
 
 Lit. Look you, here comes the old lecher ! he looks 
 as fresh as an old play new vampt. Pray see how 
 trim he is, and how the authors have corrected him; 
 how his tailor and his barber have set him forth ; 
 sure he has received an other impression. 
 
 jEmi. I think the fool will be tedious. 
 
 Lit. Well, now I have brought you together, 
 here I'll leave you. When lovers parley, parents are 
 no fit auditors ; see that you use the gentleman 
 respectively, and. though, sir, she seem coy and
 
 134 A FINE COMPANION. 
 
 deny you, impute it not to perverseness but modesty. 
 Maids in their first assault consult with shame, in 
 the next with weakness. So I leave you. [Exit Lit. 
 
 Dot. Fair mistress, I would ask you a question, 
 if you please to answer me. 
 
 JEmi. No mistress of yours, sir ; yet, if you ask 
 nothing but what I please to answer, you may. 
 
 Dot. I would first demand your opinion of me. 
 
 JEmi. Truly I have no skill to make any objec- 
 tion by the outward appearance, but, by the title 
 page of your face, I should judge you to be some- 
 what ancient. 
 
 Dot. Take my word for it the index is false 
 printed ; if you please to turn to the book, you 
 shall find no such thing written. 
 
 JEmi. 0, 'tis worm eaten ! time has cankered it ; 
 besides, there be so many dashes, my understanding 
 will not serve me to read it, and a woman has no 
 use of her clergy. 
 
 Dot. But love has renew'd it, sweet lady, and this 
 is another edition. 
 
 JEmi. How long is it since the copy has been 
 alter'd 1 
 
 Dot. Let it not seem strange to you that I have 
 felt this transformation. Your form has wrought a 
 miracle upon me ; the pulchritude of your feature, 
 that is able to extract youth out of age, and could 
 make yEson young again, without the help of 
 Medea, it has put a fire into me, and I must 
 impute it neither to herbs nor philtrums, but to 
 the influence and power of your beauty. 
 
 JEmi. A fire 1 'tis a foolish one that leads you with- 
 out the precinct of your gravity. Ay, strange a man 
 of your judgement should talk so preposterously. 
 
 Dot. Why, sweet lady 1 
 
 JEmi. Sweet lady 1 what a petulant word is there, 
 for a man of your beard 1 a boy of fifteen would
 
 A FINE COMPANION. 135 
 
 not have spoke it without blushing, and there's a 
 smile able to turn my stomach ! I wonder you will 
 make yourself so ridiculous. 
 
 Cro. If this be the best language she can afford 
 him, 'twere safe for me not to hear it. I may be 
 call'd for a witness. 
 
 Dot. Stay, Crochet, whither goest thou 1 
 
 Cro. I'll come presently, sir! I'll come presently. 
 
 [Exit Crochet. 
 
 yEmi. Now you are alone, I'll tell you what I 
 think of you. You are an old doting fool, one that 
 twenty years since has drunk the Lethe of humanity 
 and forgot of what sex thou wert, worn out of all 
 remembrance of thyself; thou hast a body that a 
 fever cannot heat, nor poison work upon, a face 
 more rugged than winter, thy beard is moss, and thy 
 skin so hard, that the perpetual dropping of thy 
 nose cannot soften it. 
 
 Dot. These indignities are not to be endur'd; her 
 abuses are more monstrous than the prodigy she 
 would make of me. 
 
 JEmi. And yet you would be in love, forsooth, 
 whom Cupid with all his strength is not able to 
 pierce : you have not one pore open to let in an 
 arrow. More need have a cordial to comfort you. 
 
 Dot. Rank injuries mock me to my teeth. 
 
 JEmi. If you had any. 
 
 Dot. I would your father heard you : he left no 
 such thing in your commission. How dare you do 
 it? 
 
 JEmi, Yes, and if I marry you, I'll use you ac- 
 cordingly : I'll have no mercy on your age. I tell 
 you beforehand, that, when it happens, it may not 
 seem strange to you. 
 
 Dot. Well, she may play with the line, I'll give 
 her scope enough, but, when I have her fast, I'll 
 twitch her, and draw her as I list to me. \ Aside,
 
 136 A FINE COMPANION. 
 
 JEmi. Do but hear what I say to you, and it 
 shall fall out ; no prognostication like it. 
 
 Dot. Sure 'tis some fury ! it cannot be a woman, 
 she is so impudent. 
 
 JEmi. When 1 am your wife, if you are so hardy 
 to venture on me, your whole study shall be to 
 please me, and yet I will not grace it with accep- 
 tance. I will live as your Empress, lye a-bed, and 
 command you and your servants, and you shall not 
 dare to anger me. 
 
 Dot. Not dare to anger you 1 
 
 JEmi. No, if you do, I will fill the house with 
 noise, and deaf thee with clamours. 
 
 Dot. Sweet heart, you shall have all content, I 
 love [such] a life. These spirited wenches that are 
 all fire and motion, they stir a quickness in a man, 
 infuse an activity. 
 
 JEmi. He will not be put off, I must terrify 
 him further. And, for your estate, you shall not 
 meddle with it. I'll take up your rents for you, and 
 dispose of them as I think fit ; only I'll allow you 
 to carry some farthings in your j>ouch to give to 
 beggars. 
 
 Dot. And what will you do with the rest, sweet- 
 ing'? 
 
 JEmi. For the rest, I'll spend it upon myself in 
 bravery : there shall not be a new fashion, but I'll 
 have it. I'll look after nothing else ; your house 
 shall be a mart for all trades. I'll keep twenty 
 continually at work for me ; as tailors, perfumers, 
 painters, apothecaries, coach-makers, sempsters, 
 and tire-women. Besides embroiderers, anil pen- 
 sions for intelligencers. 
 
 Dot. She'll waste all I have in a month : the ex- 
 penses of an army will not maintain her. 
 
 JEmi. Besides, I will have acquaintance with all 
 the Ladies in Court, and entertain them with ban-
 
 A FINE COMPANION. 137 
 
 quets,yet for all that I will make my complaint of 
 you to them, traduce your infirmities, and they 
 shall conspire against you, and pity me. 
 
 Dot. I had rather be under twenty executions 
 than the lash of their tongues. 
 
 JEmi. Then you shall kiss me very seldom, and 
 when I vouchsafe you the favour : and you shall 
 do it not as a husband but as a father, not a smack 
 of lasciviousness. 
 
 Dot. What a sanctified creature shall I enjoy ! 
 
 JEmi. I will lye with you the first year once a- 
 month, as a parson uses to instruct his Cure, and 
 yet not be questional for neglect, or non-residence: 
 marry the next year, if you live so long, once a 
 quarter shall suffice you. 
 
 Dot. The next year if I live so long 1 she thinks 
 of my death already. 
 
 JEmi. These are the least of your evils. I will 
 have one to cuckold you, and you shall take it for 
 a courtesy, and use him the kindlier fey it. 
 
 Dot ^ Oh, me ! I can endure it no longer, that 
 word stiikes cold to my heart. Were I an enemy, 
 and she had vanquisht me, I would not yield to 
 such articles. I'll propose these conditions to her 
 father, and see if he will allow them in all con- 
 science to be reasonable. [Exit Dotarlo. 
 
 JEmi. Master Careless promised to be here in- 
 stantly. Til tell him what a fine youth he has to 
 his uncle. 
 
 Enter Careless, drunk. 
 
 Car. Here is the gulph that swallows all my 
 
 land : 
 And to this desperate whirlpit am I reeling. 
 And there's the smooth stream that must guide me 
 
 to it. 
 Were I as provident, as was -Ulysses,
 
 138 A FINE COMPANION. 
 
 That Syren there might sing me to my ruin. 
 Save you, fair lady. 
 
 JEmi. Save you, Master Careless. 
 
 Car. "Will you hear me speak any wise sentences'? 
 I am now as discreet in my conceit 
 As the seven Sophies of Greece, I am full 
 Of oracles, I am come from Apollo ; 
 Would he had lent me his tripos to stand upon, 
 For my two legs can hardly carry me. 
 
 JEmi. Whence come you 1 from Apollo ] 
 
 Car. From the heaven 
 Of my delight, where the boon Delphic god 
 Drinks sack, and keeps his Bacchanalias, 
 And has his incense, and his altars smoking, 
 And speaks in sparkling prophecies ; thence do I 
 
 come ! 
 My brains perfum'd with the rich Indian vapour, 
 And height'ned with conceits, from tempting 
 
 beauties, 
 From dainty music and poetic strains, 
 From bowls of nectar, and ambrosiac dishes : 
 From witty varlets, fine companions, 
 And from a mighty continent of pleasure, 
 Sails thy brave Careless. Where's your father, 
 lady ? 
 
 JEmi I thought I had been worthy salutation. 
 
 Car. These ceremonies are abolisht with me. 
 I kiss none but my punk, but, in this humour, 
 I'll kiss any body. I'll marry thee ; 
 But not a penny jointure. 
 
 JEmi. Where I love, 
 
 I will not stand upon conditions. 
 
 Car. I would accept this invitation, 
 But thy father is a usurer, a Jew ; 
 And if I marry in his tribe, I shall thrive. 
 And I hate thriving. I am come to mortgage, 
 To pawn or sell, lady.
 
 A FINE COMPANION. 139 
 
 <&mi. Do you want money ? 
 
 Car. Do I want money ? let me consider this. 
 'Tis a good promising question, and requires 
 A sober and politic answer. Yes, I want money. 
 
 JEmi. I have not ready coin; but there's a 
 jewel 
 Will fetch you twenty pound. 
 
 Our. But do you dare trust me 1 
 
 jEmi. I give it freely. 
 
 Car. Then, I say, thy father, 
 
 In getting thee has redeemed all his sin. 
 She has confirm'd my love, and I will marry her. 
 Let me survey it well, 'tis an amethyst. 
 
 JEmi. Why do you ask 1 
 
 Car. Because they say that stone 
 
 Has secret virtue in it to recover 
 A man that's intoxicated, and I do find 
 That I am not so drunk, as I was. 
 
 jEmi. 0, Master Careless, here has been your 
 uncle 
 A-wooing to me. 
 
 Car. What ! that piece of stockfish, 
 That has kept Lent thus long, would have young 
 flesh now 1 
 
 JEmi. If he could get it. 
 
 Car. 'Tis such a rank goat. 
 
 JEmi. I made such sport with him, and terrified 
 him, 
 How I would use him if I were his wife, 
 That he is frighted hence. 
 
 Car. 'Tis well done of you ! he upbraided me 
 too 
 That he would marry, but I'll cross his worship. 
 We'll vex him ten times worse yet, I have plots 
 Maturing in my head shall crown thy wit, 
 And make him desperate, that he shall die 
 And leave us nothing. I would not be troubled
 
 140 A FINE COMPANION, 
 
 With any of his wealth, no not so much 
 
 As to mourn for him, but I cannot stand 
 
 Now to relate it. Come, ./Emilia ! 
 
 I have declar'd my mind, but when I'll do it, 
 
 I'll in, and sleep, and dream upon't, and tell thee. 
 
 Actus II Scene V. 
 Enter Littlegood, Mistress Fondling. 
 
 Fond, Bring me to that, and I'll yield to any- 
 thing. 
 
 Lit. Nay, good wife, hear me ! 
 
 Fond. You shall pardon me. He is my son, I 
 hope, as well as yours, and he shall be fashion'd 
 after my humour. Why should you think to 
 hinder my prospect from looking to him 1 I say he 
 shall rank with the best, spend his money and 
 learn breeding. 
 
 Lit. Do, make a gallant of him or a gull, either 
 will serve; he may ride up and down, and have 
 his coach wait for him at the plays and taverns, 
 take up upon trust, consort with wits and sword- 
 men, be afraid of sergeants, and spend more for 
 his protection than would pay the debt. He may 
 be a stickler for cjuarrels, and compound them at 
 his own charge ; reel every night to his lodging, 
 and be visited in the morning with borrowing 
 letters, dice at ordinaries, and lend on all hands : 
 seal at all hours, or be beaten to it. These are 
 gifts in a son, beyond art or nature, for a father to 
 be proud of; or else he may run away with all he 
 can get, and, when 'tis gone, lye at a neighbour's 
 house till his peace be made. 
 
 Fond. No, you shall keep him still at home with 
 you ; he shall not dare to enlarge his charter, to have 
 any more wit than his father, let him sit in the shop 
 with ne'er a pair of cuffs on his hands, and play at
 
 A FINE COMPANION. HI 
 
 fox and geese with the foreman, entertain customers 
 with a discourse as moth-eaten as your cloth, and 
 not be able to look upon a lady, but court some 
 silly creature of his own tribe, with speeches out of 
 books, ten times worse than any remnant ; and 
 after supper steal abroad and be drunk in fear, this 
 you can be content with. Well, when he was a 
 child, it was the prettiest talking thing, and the 
 wittiest withal, the neighbours took such delight 
 to hear it. There was a good knight lay in my 
 house then was so kind to him, but you ne'er 
 knew the reason, since you have clean marr'd him, 
 that's apparent. 
 
 Lit. I'll do anything, wife, that you will have me. 
 
 Fond. Yes, when 'tis too late, and the custom of 
 rusticity is grown into another nature with him, 
 when his mind is settled upon the lees of it, and 
 the edge of his humour quite taken off, when learn- 
 ing has brought down his spirit, then you'll repent 
 his restraint ; has he not a pretty ingenuity 1 
 
 Lit. So' much the worse, when 'tis corrupted : 
 mark me what I say, give him the reins, and if 
 fiddlers sleep in a week, taverns keep their doors 
 shut, the constable sit on a stall in peace, or 
 wenches walk the streets for him (if he be like his 
 father) ne'er credit me again. 
 
 Fond. So much the better, I would have it so, 
 give him means to perform it, shew yourself a lov- 
 ing father, and be true in your prophecy. 
 
 Lit. I must yield to her for my quietness' sake. 
 Was ever man thus tied to a chymera, thus vext 
 with that should be his happiness 1 I have married 
 with tumult, and begot my affliction, not one of 
 my generation will be rul'd ; and for my wife, she 
 has a tongue will run post sixteen stages together, 
 and ne'er tire of it ; with that she can work me 
 to any agreement. Well, take your son to your
 
 142 A FINE COMPANION. 
 
 charge, do what you list with him : but for the 
 wenches, I'll either chuse them husbands, or 
 else they shall trudge without any other dowry 
 than what nature has bestowed on them, that's 
 certain. 
 
 Fond. "Within there ! call your young master 
 hither, Crochet ! he has been all this day at his 
 study, makes the boy mopish with his scholarship, 
 for want of better exercise ; as revelling, courting, 
 feasting, and the like, he stands plodding and mus- 
 ing as if his eyes turn'd with a wire, it has poison'd 
 his very complexion, he is grown sallow with it. 
 I know not what would become of him if I did 
 not sometimes put money in his purse, and send 
 him abroad, to sin for his recreation. 
 
 Lit. Sweet wife, be pacified. 
 
 Fond. No, I'll teach you what 'tis to anger a wo- 
 man that brought a dowry with her. 
 
 Enter Crochet and Lackwit. 
 
 See what a picture of formality you have made of 
 him ! come hither, son Lackwit, what book have 
 you there 1 
 
 Luck. This is a book of Heraldry, forsooth, and 
 I do find by this book that the Lackwits are a 
 very ancient name, and of large extent, and come 
 of as good a pedigree as any is in the city ; besides 
 they have often matcht themselves into very great 
 families, and can quarter their arms, I will not 
 say with Lords, but with squires, knights, aldermen, 
 and the like, and can boast their descent to be as 
 generous as any of the Lafools, or the John Daws 
 whatsoever. 
 
 Fond. What be the Arms, son ? 
 
 Lack. The Lackwits' Arms 1 why, they are three 
 asses rampant, with their ears prickant, in a field.
 
 A FINE COMPANION. 143 
 
 or, and a ram's head for their crest, that's the 
 Arms. 
 
 Fond. Well said, son, stand for the credit of the 
 house. 
 
 Lack. Nay, I will uphold it besides ! though my 
 father be a citizen, yet I am a gentleman's son by 
 the mother's side. 
 
 Fond. Ay, that he is, I'll be sworn, the Fondlings 
 are as good gentlemen as any be in the city, the 
 boy has a parlous head, how should he find out this, 
 I marvail 1 
 
 Lad: Find it out ! as if I were such a fool I did 
 know my own coat. 
 
 Fond. Yet husband, I never saw you wear one in 
 my life. 
 
 Lit. Not a fool's coat, but, I shall have one of 
 your spinning very shortly. 
 
 Lack. I'll tell you, father, if I list now ; I can go 
 twenty degrees back like a crab, to find out the 
 track of our gentility. 
 
 Fond, Lo, you there ! can you be content, thou man 
 perverse to all reason, having a son of so large and 
 prosperous hopes, that might stand up for the glory 
 of his kindred, of such pregnancy of wit and under- 
 standing, so rich in the qualities that can bear up a 
 gentleman, to let him sink and not cherish him 
 with those helps that might advance his gallantry 1 
 You have had your flourishing season, and are now 
 withered, your blossoms of beauty are blown off, 
 and therefore must be content out of that dry stalk 
 to afford some sap to maintain his succession ; pray, 
 how many young gentlemen have you in this town, 
 that go in plush and their fathers to plough in the 
 country 1 Shall we have worse presidents in the 
 city ? Impart I say, and give him twenty pieces, 
 and when they are gone give him twenty more. 
 
 Lit. What to do ?
 
 144 A FINE COMPANINN. 
 
 Fond. Will you disparage him, as if he knew 
 not what to do with it 1 Do you think that fencers, 
 dancers, horse-matches — I'll have him versed in all 
 these, and omit nothing that may demonstrate his 
 breeding ; — besides mistresses, and implements that 
 belong to them require nothing 1 
 
 Lit. Was ever any mother in this humour ? 
 that should reclaim her son from his ill courses, to 
 animate him, and supply his riot : let her enjoy 
 her follies, smart for them, and then repent. Here, 
 hold ! there's twenty pieces, I am sure all are thrown 
 away; they are in a consumption already, and will 
 be dead, and drawn out by to-morrow. What 
 thinkest thou, Crochet? 
 
 Cro. Nay, sir, they are condemn'd, that's certain; 
 you have past your judgement upon them, and my 
 young master must execute it. 
 
 Lit. I give it lost, Crotchet, I give it lost ; but 
 stay, my daughters ! I had need have Argus' eyes 
 to look about me, or the dragons that watcht the 
 Hesperides. I am beset on all hands ; my daugh- 
 ters are wily, my wife wilful, my son I know not 
 what, with the fear of my money, do so distract me 
 that my wits are disjointed amongst them, all the 
 remainder of my hopes is, if Valeria have proved 
 tractable to Mr Spruse, and that Dotai-io has re- 
 ceived comfort in his ^Emilia. I labour with ex- 
 pectation till I go in and be delivered. 
 
 [Exit LUtlegood. 
 
 Fond. Stay, husband, I'll go with you ! but, hark 
 you, son Lackwit, do you know to what purpose this 
 gold was given you 1 
 
 Lack. To no purpose at all, but I know what I 
 purpose to do with it. 
 
 Fond. What is't ? 
 
 Lack. I purpose to make a medicine of it. 
 
 Fond. A medicine !
 
 A FINE COMPANION. 145 
 
 Lack. Yes, I will dissolve it into Aurum potabile, 
 and drink nothing but healths with it. 
 
 Fond. Then you are right. 
 
 Lack. Nay, I will domineer, and have my 
 humours about me too. 
 
 Fond. Do anything for the improvement of your 
 discipline. Come, Crochet. [Exit Fondling. 
 
 Lack. Stay, Crochet, do you perceive nothing ? 
 you dull animal, look here ! 
 
 Cro. Ay, sir, I hope you mean to give me one or 
 two of them. 
 
 Lack. No, I will not give, nor lend a friend a 
 penny, there's no such confutation of a man's being 
 a gentleman ; but when I am drunk, and have my 
 wine and my whores about me, I'll spend twenty 
 or thirty shillings upon you, but I will not give you 
 a penny, Crochet. 
 
 Cro. Then, farewell, sir! 
 
 Lack. You know where to come to me, you shall 
 find me in my pontificalibus. 
 
 Desinit actus secitndus. 
 
 Actus III. ScenaI. 
 
 Enter ^Emilia, and Valeria. 
 
 JEmi. Come sister, though our liberty be straight- 
 ened, 
 Our mind stands free without compulsion, 
 There's none can make a rape upon our will. 
 Well if they understood a woman truly, 
 They would not seek to curb so, whose nature 
 Rejoices like a torrent, to make way 
 Spite of impediments. Now, if their wisdom 
 Should let us alone, we might perhaps ourselves 
 Find out the inconvenience and prevent it, 
 
 K
 
 14G A FINE COMPANION. 
 
 Which they like a false perspectiv e would seek 
 To multiply upon us. 
 
 Veil. I shall never 
 
 Eecall that faith, which I have plighted once 
 To my Aurelio. I'll run all hazards 
 And violent attempts to throw myself 
 Into his arms. 
 
 JEmi. I would not have you leave him, 
 Nor yet turn desperate. Now Avould I rather 
 Get him by some device, I love a witty 
 And an ingenuous trick above my life : 
 And should take more delight to over-reach 
 
 them, 
 Than to enjoy my purpose. 
 
 Val. But I dare not 
 
 Play with my fortune so, nor trust adventures, 
 If fate would be so gracious to present 
 An opportunity. 
 
 JEmi. Come, fear it not ! 
 
 You see what a man they would put upon me, 
 Might be my father. H' has less vigour in him 
 Than any Catamite.* There's not reserv'd 
 So much as one masculine grain in him. 
 A fellow that's as bald as a looking-glass, 
 And whose diseases are beyond arithmetic : 
 Not a joint of him free. A gouty numbness 
 Has seiz'd his feet and fingers, and there's all 
 The stiffness he has left : and, were I married, 
 I must spend all my life in rubbing of him 
 With hot woollen cloths, applying plaisters, 
 And cataplasms, and trenchers to his belly ; 
 Must undergo the person of a surgeon, 
 Not of a wife ; and yet I am not terrified : 
 It moves me not, [ make a jest of it ; 
 Because I mean t'abuse them all, and chuse 
 
 * A boy hired to te abused, contrary to nature. A Gany- 
 mede. — Jjiount.
 
 A FINE COMPANION. 147 
 
 Where I like best. 
 
 Vol. It is a happy spirit 
 
 That rules in you, I would I had one like it. 
 
 JEmi. Like me ] thou hast not studied thyself so 
 well, 
 Nor hast that season of thy mother in thee. 
 Observe her fashions, take example by them : 
 Although her husband be penurious, 
 Hard as the metal that he dotes upon, 
 Yet she can make him malleable,* and work him, 
 And turn, and hammer him, and wire-draw him, 
 And rule him with as much correction 
 As one would wish to govern. For my part, 
 When I have stretcht my brains, made all the 
 
 shifts 
 The wit of woman can be pregnant of, 
 And shew'd my love by such experience 
 As shall outstrip belief, all for his sake 
 That shall enjoy me, which is Master Careless ; 
 And when he has me, if he shall presume 
 On former passages of my affection 
 To oversway me in the least desire, 
 To contradict, and tempt my patience, 
 I'll shake off all obedience, and forget it. 
 I'll slight him, yet prevail. 
 
 Vol. Alas, my heart is 
 
 Tender and violable Avith the least weapon 
 Sorrow can dart at me. 
 
 j£mi. You are a fool ! 
 
 And every one that will can make you so : 
 When was your sweetheart, Master Spruse, here 
 with you 1 
 
 Vol. But lately, and presented such a scene 
 Of protestations, and then varied it 
 So cunningly, that love and lust together 
 Were interwoven with such subtle threads 
 
 * In the original, " Malleruable."
 
 148 A FINE COMPANION. 
 
 That I could scarce distinguish them. 
 
 Mmi. Take heed ! 
 
 Whate'er he speaks it tends but to corrupt you ! 
 I'd join commerce of language with a sphinx 
 Ere I'd deign to answer him. Master Careless 
 Told me his humours, seems he boasted of it, 
 He gave his character, the most perfidious 
 And love abusing creature in the world ; — 
 That all his vows were treacherous, his smiles, 
 His words and actions, like small rivulets, 
 Through twenty turnings of loose passions, 
 At last would run to the dead sea of sin. 
 
 Val. Whate'er he says I resolve ne'er to trust 
 him. 
 
 JEmi. Be wise, and constant, and then govern 
 fate. 
 And in the interim, howe'er matters fall, 
 We'll find a trick, wench, how to cheat them all. 
 
 Actus III. Scena II. 
 Valeria, ^Emilia, Spruse. 
 
 Val. See, here he comes again ! 
 
 Spr. I come, sweet lady, 
 
 To rear the trophies of your conquest up, 
 And yield myself the greatest. 
 
 Val. What's the matter 1 
 
 Spr. Your looks have tane me prisoner. I am 
 captiv'd, 
 Bound with the golden chain of your loose hair, 
 And on your frowns depends my destiny. 
 
 Val. Tis about the old matter ; you may save 
 This labour, or go seek some new device. 
 In faith, these stale exordiums cannot take me. 
 
 JEmi. Indeed, my sister and I know you well 
 enough.
 
 A FINE COMPANION. I 49 
 
 Spr. But, lady, since my change you do not 
 know me. 
 I am now metamorphos'd, and that fancy 
 That roved, and was rebellious, by her power 
 Is brought within command. 
 
 Vol. Ay, so you told me. 
 
 Spr. Here I present a sad oblation, 
 A heart that bringeth its own fire with it, 
 And burns before your beauty's deity, 
 Offer'd up with as much devotion 
 As ever true love sacrificed any. 
 
 Vol. Well, you may jest with mortals, but I am 
 not 
 So blind but I can see through all your mists : 
 Were I a goddess, as you term me one. 
 Sister to Phoebus, or armed like Minerva, 
 I would transform you straight ; and fix you up 
 A monument for your hypocrisy. 
 
 Spr. Now, by that sacred shrine, brighter than 
 Venus, 
 To whom I pay my orizons, that form, 
 That fair Idea, that rules all my thoughts, 
 Thyself I mean, that spotless seat of pleasure — 
 The continent of all perfection, — 
 This spring of love, that issues from my soul, 
 Runs in a stream as pure as are your virtues, 
 Full fraught with zeal, immaculate and free 
 From all adulterate mixtures. 
 
 Vol. On my life ! 
 
 I can not frame me to believe one word. 
 
 JEmi. Hold thy own there, wench, and I war- 
 rant thee. 
 Spr. Phoebus, how have I anger'd thee to lay 
 Cassandra's curse on me that was not trusted, 
 When she spake true and most prophetically ? 
 JEmi. Sir, he that is accustom'd to deceive 
 Gains this reward by it when he speaks truth,
 
 150 A FINE COMPANION. 
 
 Not to be credited. 
 
 Spr. Observe me, lady, 
 
 And mark the harmony; does it not sound 
 Upon the string, as if my heart kept touch 1 
 
 Vol. And so it sounded first to the same tune. 
 
 Spr. That was ill-set; this is a different passion. 
 
 Vol. But 'tis all shew ; and nothing serious. 
 
 Spr. You cannot judge by former evidence : 
 It is no fit proof to confirm this motion, 
 This is a true text, that a false gloss of it. 
 
 Vol. But I shall never so interpret it. 
 
 Spr. What can I say more, than to swear I love 
 you? 
 
 Vol. But should you now dissolve your eyes to 
 tears, 
 Were every accent in your speech a sigh, 
 And every gesture, every motion in you, 
 An hieroglyphic to commend that love : 
 Had you the spells of it, and magic charms, 
 Set round about the circle of your arms, 
 To draw me to you, I would seal my ears, 
 Deaf as the sea, to shipwreck'd mariners. 
 And so I leave you to your better fortunes. 
 
 [Exeunt Valeria, ^Emilia. Valeria loses her 
 ring in a paper. 
 
 Spr. Am I despised and slighted 1 Foolish girl, 
 Th' hast lost thyself ; that which is best in nature 
 Turns to the worst corruption, my scorn'd love 
 Shall now convert to hatred. 'Tis decreed, 
 Fraud and revenge shall be my counsellors ; 
 What's here ! a ring 1 She lost it now, I know it, 
 The same Aurelio wont to wear on's finger ; 
 He sent it as a gift 1 'tis so, the poesy : 
 In love I write 
 All my grief, all my delight. 
 The very same. Were I best to poison it, 
 And send it back to her 1 No, it shall serve
 
 A FINE COMPANION. J 51 
 
 T poison her good name ; there's no foul fact, 
 That love, when it is injur'd, dares not act. [Exit. 
 
 Actus III. Scena III. 
 Aurelio, Froo. 
 
 A ur. Come, honest Fido, thy best love supplies 
 Part of my hoped fortunes. That's true friend- 
 ship, 
 Misery cannot shake, which crowns thy merit. 
 
 Fid. Sir, could my power produce forth anything 
 "Worthy your acceptation, or my service, 
 I would with hazard of my life perform it. 
 So much I owe your virtues, so much pity 
 Your injuries ; but this poor task so easy, 
 Consisting more of policy than danger, 
 Gives not my love an equal testimony. 
 
 Aur. You could not do an office more deserving, 
 Or grateful to my soul, than to bring tidings 
 How my love fares, each syllable she spake, 
 Though by an echo I receive the voice, 
 Is able to inspire new life into me. 
 How does she 1 is she well and mindful of us ? 
 Speak it a thousand times ; never did sound 
 Touch a more gladsome ear. 
 
 Fid. By all circumstance 
 
 I could conjecture, I read in her looks 
 A strange disturbance. When I gave the ring. 
 
 All ^ 
 
 A letter to her, as if joy and fear 
 Had run on several errands, and return'd, 
 Swift as her thoughts, and spoke her love in 
 silence. 
 
 A ur. Th' hast seen the treasury of my happiness. 
 Speak ! am I rich or no ? 
 
 Fid. She is a mine, 
 
 A store-house of all beauty, all content : 
 Her brow a bank of pleasure ; her bright eyes,
 
 152 A FINE COMPANION. 
 
 The chief and only mover of your love, 
 So multiplied their flames, that they appear'd 
 To me most like a firmament of fires, 
 Yet chaster than the vestal ; and below, 
 Clouded with sorrow, which dropt pearls for you, 
 And does enclose a soul richer than it, 
 Wherein is lockt the wardrobe of all virtues ; 
 Yet sure that soul had left her mansion, 
 But that she stays to bid you welcome thither. 
 Aru. And why should I be stay'd from going to 
 her 1 
 Why should a covetous eye watch o'er that wealth 
 That is my right 1 I will go claim my due, 
 And justify the seizure. Why should parents, 
 That can give to their children neither minds 
 Nor yet affections, strive to govern both ] 
 'Tis not justice : yet where should I complain 1 
 Love has no bar to plead at, nor no laws 
 To rule us by, nor Court to judge our cause. 
 
 Actus III. Scena IV. 
 Enter Captain Whibble. 
 
 What's he that interrupts our quiet sorrow ? 
 
 Fid. Sir, this is Captain Whibble, the town 
 stale, 
 For all cheating employments : a parasite 
 Of a new sect ; none of your soothing varlets, 
 But a swearing sycophant that frights a man 
 Into a belief of his worth ; his dialect 
 Is worse than the report of a cannon, 
 And deafs a stranger with tales of his valour, 
 Till his conclusion be to borrow money. 
 His company is a cipher in the reckoning, 
 That helps to multiply it : your dear brother 
 Admires his discipline, and will swear to it, 
 
 Aur. Is this one of his comrades %
 
 A FINE COMPANION. 153 
 
 Fid. Sir, this is 
 
 His prime associate. I'll lay a hundred pound, 
 I guess by his physiognomy his business ; 
 He is either trudging now unto a broker, 
 Or to invite some new heir unto a breakfast, 
 To seal for the commodity ; or else 
 Wandering abroad to skelder * for a shilling 
 Amongst your bowling alleys ; most commonly 
 There lies his scene : or perhaps man some whore, 
 A province that he usually adorns. 
 
 Aur. Prithee, good Fido, go and baffle him ! 
 Put an affront upon him. If his valour 
 Prompt him to make resistance I'll step out 
 And second thee. 
 
 Fid. His valour 1 'Tis the least 
 Thing to be fear'd, he has not one spark in him 
 To kindle a true anger. [Fido justles him. 
 
 Cap. Sulphur of Styx ! 
 
 Can you not see 1 death ! where be your eyes 1 
 You'd have me wash them in the channel, would 
 you ? 
 
 Fid. Yes, very fain, sir, if you durst attempt it. 
 
 Cap. Heart ! do you stem me 1 and lie had a beak 
 He might have split me : body of Jupiter ! 
 He ran me athwart the midships : spirit of fury ! 
 I think that he has sprung a plank in me. 
 
 Fid. Then you may lye by the lee, and mend it. 
 
 Cap. Horror of man ! lay a captain aboard 1 
 A man of war, and not cry amain to him 1 
 
 Fid. How ! you a captain ] I rather believe 
 That you are one of those that upon service 
 Were seen to carry tomkins in your guns, 
 And made a shift to discharge a league off : 
 Was it not so 1 that might take up your bullet, 
 And shoot again and do no hurt with it. 
 You a man of war 1 
 
 * Swindle.
 
 154 A FINE COMPANION. 
 
 Cap. 'Slife ! do you question it 1 
 I'll tell the slave, to thy astonishment, 
 I have been styl'd " the rock of pirates," I ; 
 I have plough'd up the sea, till Bosphorus 
 Has worship'd me ; I have shot all the gulphs, 
 And seen the navel of the Avorld, you stinkard ! 
 
 Fid. How ? slave ! and stinkard ! since you are 
 so stout, 
 I will see your commission ere I part. 
 
 Cap. Strength of my brains ! see my commission'? 
 I'll blow thee up like a deck. Son of Neptune ! 
 Off, or I'll fire thee. 
 
 Fid. I am grappled with you, 
 
 And will hang by your side till you be calmer, 
 And be so, or I'll lay my trident on you. 
 Come, to your tacklings ! 
 
 Cap. 'Tis a bold active boy ! 
 
 I see there's nothing to be got but knocks by him. 
 Give me thy hand, old Kover, hoist up thy top-sail, 
 And go in peace ! 
 
 Fid. Sir, this will not appease me ; 
 
 I must have satisfaction. 
 
 Cap. Reach me thy fist, 
 
 And be reconcil'd. What, thou dost not know me 1 
 Though I am valiant, yet 'tis out of the road 
 Of my humour to disgrace any man. 
 
 Fid. This will not satisfy me. 
 
 Cap. I say again 
 
 Give me thy wrist ! Know me and my lodging ; 
 I'll give thee a supper : there's a good plump 
 
 wench, 
 My hostess, a waterman's widow at the sign 
 Of the Red Lettuce in Southwark, shall bid thee 
 welcome. 
 
 Fid. But I must have you leave your swearing 
 first, 
 And be temperate.
 
 A FINE COMPANION. 155 
 
 Cap. Hear me, honest Trojan ! 
 
 As I am virtuous, as I love my friends, 
 That I may swear. 
 
 Fid. No, not as you are virtuous. 
 
 Cap. Why, then, on my word, I'll give thee a 
 supper. 
 What 1 I will not offend thee, my good drumstick ; 
 I'll conform myself, come to me at night, 
 And I'll be as good as my word, old Bracer. 
 
 Fid. But if I come, and lose my labour, what 
 follows 1 
 
 Cap. Then, Teucer, in pure zeal and verity — 
 
 Fid. I'll belabour you the next time I meet you. 
 
 Cap. What, Scuffler ! dost thou think I'll fail my 
 friends 1 
 No, Hector ! I scorn it. I'll pawn my cloak first. 
 Farewell, Actorides. [Exit Captain. 
 
 Enter Aurelio. 
 
 Aur. What, is he gone 1 
 
 Fid. Ay, and as glad he has escap'd from me, 
 As from the Syrtes.* 
 
 Aur. How ! he bore it out 
 
 With impudence ? 
 
 Fid. Yes, did you observe him 1 
 
 There's nothing can discountenance him, still 
 This is his posture : he were excellent 
 To venture at a lottery. 
 
 Aur. Why, Mischief ? 
 
 Fid. I do not think he would ever draw a 
 blank. 
 
 * Two sandbanks in the Mediterranean, on the coast of 
 Africa — one near Leptis, the other near Carthage most danger- 
 ous in navigation, from their often changing places. " From 
 this circumstance," observes Lempriere, quoting from the best 
 Latin authorities, " that word has been used to denote any 
 part of the sea, if the navigation was attended with danger, 
 either from whirlpool, or from hidden rocks."
 
 156 A FINE COMPANION. 
 
 Aur. We must pursue the project. Sup with him 
 At any hand. 
 
 Fid. The jest is behind to see, 
 
 In what a miserable perplexity, 
 He will be put to entertain us. 
 
 Aur. Come ! [Exeunt. 
 
 Actus III. Scena V. 
 Enter Dotario, Littlegood, ^Emilia. 
 
 Dot. You know, father, for I must still call you 
 so, how you charg'd your daughter to use me re- 
 spectively. 
 
 Lit. Yes, marry, did I! and to show a double 
 duty, as might suit with the reverence of your age, 
 and honour of her husband. 
 
 Dot. Well, and as soon as you were gone, she 
 had no more regard to me, than if I had been an 
 old horse, or an old servingman. 
 
 Lit. Why, 'tis impossible she should transgress 
 in such a high point of humanity. 
 
 Dot. Elsewhere was some fury in her shape that 
 did so. I am sure she shap'd me out to be the ridi- 
 culousest old ass in Europe. 
 
 Lit. Her modesty would not permit it in her. 
 
 Dot. If my words have any weight in them, she 
 set as light by me, as by the least feather in her 
 fan. 
 
 Lit. Why, is this true, iEmilia 1 
 
 Mmi. No, indeed, sir. 
 
 Dot. How, no indeed ] do you deny it 1 O pal- 
 pable, she reckon'd up a whole catalogue of abuses 
 and malicious practises that she would assault me 
 with, if I were her husband ; the least of which were 
 above all patience. 
 
 A^mi. Do you think, sir, if I intended any such 
 thing, I would have forewarned you 1
 
 A FINE COMPANION. 157 
 
 Lit. No, 'tis not likely. 
 
 Dot. That you had but heard the disgrace she 
 put upon me, in calumniating the vigour and ability 
 of my person. 
 
 Lit. I cannot believe it. 
 
 Dot, And then terrified me, that the wind of her 
 humour should be still against me, to cross me in 
 everything I desired, yet the course of my destiny 
 should be more impetuous than before. 
 
 JEmi. The old gentleman did but dream so. 
 
 Dot. Nay, more ! she said I was an old, dry 
 stump, that had not the least drop of moisture in 
 me, yet, by the virtue of her humidity, she would 
 make my temples so supple that they should sprout 
 and bud a-fresh. 
 
 Lit. Come ! she would not say so '? 
 
 Dot. Yes, and that all my estate should be too 
 little to maintain her in prodigality, and invite 
 acquaintance. 
 
 j<Emi. Alas, good gentleman ! I told him how 
 other women used their husbands, but I would con- 
 form myself to obedience. 
 
 Lit. Ay, that you might know what a blessing 
 you had in her. 
 
 Dot. Oh ! was it so 1 I cry you mercy, I 
 mistook you. Here take this pearl for amends ; 
 I am sorry I have sinned against so sweet a 
 simplicity. 
 
 Lit. Come, I knew you were in an error. 
 
 Dot. Then to avoid all cavillation hereafter, see 
 what I have provided! 
 
 Lit. What have you there 1 
 
 Dot. I have a Syngraphus, a writing with ar- 
 ticles, that must be drawn between us before there 
 can be any copulation. 
 
 Lit. Wherefore did you so 1 
 
 Dot. Look you, sir, I was in a little suspense
 
 158 A FINE COMPANION. 
 
 of her behaviour, and therefore in relation of 
 that, which I thought she objected, yet has since 
 proved otherwise — notwithstanding these rules, 
 which may so much conduce to my happiness, and 
 have been so much advis'd upon with deliberation, 
 I would have establish'd. 
 
 Lit. Pray, let's hear them ! 
 
 Dot They are only some few propositions, and 
 exceptions to be observ'd on her behalf, for the 
 better security of my quiet, when I shall be married 
 to her. 
 
 Lit. Now, I conceive you. Read them out ! 
 
 Dot. First, that after Hymen has once joined us 
 together, she shall admit of no man whatsoever, to 
 entitle him with any suspicious name of friend, or 
 servant. Do you mark me 1 
 
 Lit. Well, proceed ! 
 
 Dot. Next, if any of her old acquaintance come 
 to visit her, as nurses, midwives, and the like, 
 creatures of secrecy, she shall return them word she 
 is not within, or otherwise accommodated. 
 
 Lit. Very good ! 
 
 Dot. I'll have it written so upon the doors. 
 
 Lit. You may perceive by her silence, she will 
 consent to anything. 
 
 Dot. Then, to avoid all occasions of writing 
 epistles, she shall receive none, nor have any paper, 
 pen, ink, or wax in her closet. 
 
 Lit. That's somewhat hard. 
 
 Dot. She shall not have any masculine bawdy- 
 picture hang in her chamber, but shall take it down, 
 and sell it away as a thing unprofitable, and an en- 
 ticement of phantasy. 
 
 Lit. That, in my conceit, is very reasonable. 
 
 Dot. She shall bid no man to dinner, but I will 
 invite them, and, when they are set, she shall not 
 cast amorous glances upon them, nor drink to them,
 
 A FINE COMPANION. 159 
 
 nor lick her lips at them, nor shew her teeth when 
 she laughs, nor her tongue when she sneezes. 
 
 Lit. For all these, I'll engage myself. 
 
 Dot. Besides, she shall not take upon her to 
 contrary me in anything, nor seem mure or less 
 wise than myself. 
 
 Lit. That's not much amiss neither. 
 
 Dot. She shall send no Hieroglyphics, nor meat 
 cut in characters, nor tread upon any man's foot 
 under the table, nor, when they are risen, give them 
 her hand to kiss, or open her palm to have her 
 fortune told her, nor yet shew them her ring, or 
 receive any of theirs, and read the poesies. 
 
 Lit. Is this all 1 
 
 Dot. She shall know no language but her own, 
 nor speak any equivocating word. 
 
 Lit. In my mind now, these laws are very conson- 
 ant to a good disposition, and, if I were to marry 
 myself, I'd propose the like. 
 
 Dot. And, for her religion, she may pray to any 
 innocent goddess, as Diana and the Graces, but if 
 she have anything to say to Mars, Mercury, or 
 Apollo, she shall acquaint me with it, and I will 
 present her devotions. 
 
 Lit. Have you done now 1 
 
 Dot. Last of all, when she is ready to go to bed, 
 she shall not put out the candle to walk up and 
 down in her smock, and shake her body in the 
 dark; and if she be content, I take her as my 
 own. 
 
 Lit. All these she shall subscribe to, if she be 
 my daughter. 
 
 Dot. Why then, we'll proceed to the church. 
 
 Lit. Are you agreed or no '? 
 
 JEmi. Pray let me speak one word with him in 
 private. 
 
 Dot. Yes, what you please, sweet lady, it is
 
 160 A FINE COMPANION. 
 
 granted, were it a hundred pound to buy pins and 
 petticoats. 
 
 JEmi. Tis not a thing, sir, of that dear expense, 
 Though you were pleas'd to tax me for that crime ; 
 'Tis only this, time was I could not love you, 
 Though reason since has rectified my judgment, 
 And clear'd my eyes, that I can see my good. 
 Then, I confess, I made a solemn oath, 
 None should enjoy my love, but he that durst 
 Attempt to steal me ; this is not intended, 
 For any peril to you, but for a safeguard 
 Of my first vow, which I must needs perform. 
 Now, if you please to come at a set hour, 
 None but yourself, and fetch me, I will yield 
 To go with you whither you shall command. 
 
 Dot. 'Tis done, bright Helen ! I will be thy Paris, 
 And fetch thee, though thou wer't at Lacedemon, 
 And care not a pin for all the power of Greece. 
 
 Lit. What, are you agreed 1 
 
 Dot. Yes, we are both agreed. 
 Some few ceremonies, and then we have finish'd. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Act III. ScenaVI. 
 
 AURELIO, FIDO. 
 
 Aur. Fido, I am now advised upon a plot, 
 If it succeed shall crown my invention. 
 
 Fid. Something about the captain 1 
 
 Aur. Hang him, Kastrill ! 
 I scorn to loose a thought on him ; my brains 
 Repine at his memory. 'Tis a new device, 
 The issue of extremity. 'Tis thus, 
 I will turn a desperate gamester in love, 
 And venture all upon one cast. 
 
 Fid. Take heed, sir ! 
 
 There may be plots, but little policy ;
 
 A FINE COMPANION. 1G1 
 
 Fortune and love are insolent, and ticklish. 
 
 Aur. Come, I'll do it ! I'll send thee with a letter 
 Unto my mistress, that shall make her mad. 
 
 Fid. How ! make her mad 1 what do you expect 
 from that % what can you gain by the loss of her 
 wits 1 
 
 Aur. I shall gain my desire. 
 
 Fid. And do you prize 
 
 The satisfying of a lewd desire 
 So much, to rob your mistress of her senses 1 
 Can you accuse her of inconstancy, 
 Or tax her of dishonesty 1 or will you 
 Prove false to her] What mischief do you intend? 
 "What hopes can you conceive, that may secure 
 So great a sin from Heaven's just punishment ] 
 Have you a drug or incantation, 
 And think to make her senseless of her grief, 
 With the privation of her understanding 1 
 
 Aur. Not any of these. 
 
 Fid. If you do, you must employ 
 
 Some other messenger. Let me advise you 
 Keep her in her right mind while you have her : 
 Love of itself is an illusive spirit, 
 And will enough distract her without help. 
 
 Aur. She shall seem mad but in appearance, 
 Fido, 
 And with that feigned frenzy move a pity 
 From all that must impute it to her sufferings. 
 
 Fid. 'Twere a mad jest ! but is this all your 
 plot? 
 
 Aur. No, this is not the main one ! there's an- 
 other 
 Of greater consequence and secrecy, 
 For a sound mind to bear, and 'tin a burthen 
 Worthy thy care and honesty. Think not 
 I am so desperate and heady, to launch forth 
 Into those dangerous seas without a pilot, 
 
 L
 
 162 A FINE COMPANION. 
 
 And I have chose thee for my Palinurus. 
 
 Fid. You never knew a man of less experience. 
 I do not ken one rock, or shelf, and love 
 Has many. 
 
 Aur. Tis no matter ! thou and I 
 Will sing a Paean to love's victory. 
 
 Desvnit actus tertius. 
 
 Actus IV. Scena I. 
 
 Enter Careless, Captain, Lieutenant, Lackwit, 
 four Wenches. 
 
 Car. Come, my voluptuaries, my sons of comfort, 
 That know no sorrow, sing like grass-hoppers, 
 And fear no winter nor no poverty ; 
 Lead on, my moving pillars of delight ! 
 My Alchymists of pleasure, that convert 
 All like yourselves ; can make old Cato dance, 
 And turn Fabricius to an epicure, 
 Should he behold you. 
 
 Cap. Thou say'st right, Telemachus ; 
 'Tis wine and mirth that breed these raptures in 
 
 thee. 
 Body of Jove ! there's nothing but a rabble 
 Of lean and starv'd imaginations 
 Accompany sobriety. Some wine there ! 
 That I may court my cockatrice. 
 
 Car. Good Captain, 
 
 Bid our noble friend welcome. 
 
 Cap. You know my humour, 
 To men of ordinary pretence I seldom 
 Use to debase myself below the nod 
 Of salutation, but for your sake 
 I receive him as a man deserving. 
 Give me thy hand, Cadmus !
 
 A FINE COMPANION. 1G3 
 
 Lack. I desire, sir, to incorporate myself into 
 your acquaintance. 
 
 Car. 'Tis well said ! do the like noble office to our 
 friend, here, sweet Lieutenant. 
 
 Lieu. Sir, he shall command my heart and hand 
 on his occasions; I'll as soon draw in his quarrel as 
 to piss against a wall. 
 
 Car. These are the mirrors of the time, old boy, 
 that shall show you how to adorn your behaviour, 
 that you may pass in all company with confidence 
 of approbation. 
 
 Cap. And not err the breadth of a nail. 
 Lieu. He shall be able to pass through the needles 
 of all occurrences. 
 
 Lack An they would but learn me to swear and 
 take tobacco ! 'tis all I desire. 
 
 Car. Come, they shall do it ! and I must tell you 
 these suggestions in you are arguments of a gener- 
 ous disposition. Whence do they flow, I wonder 1 
 Lack. That mother-wit that put them in my head 
 has put money in my purse, and as far as that 
 money will lead me I will be bold and Avise. I 
 have my humours, and I scorn the pollution of the 
 mechanics. 
 
 Car. How do you like these replies, Captain. 
 Cap. Very well, by the faith of a soldier, excel- 
 lent well! they are good relishing answers, and ex- 
 press an ebullition in his nature, swelling to con- 
 formity. 
 
 Lack. What, I will bear myself like a gentleman? 
 Cap. Ay, and the way to bear yourself like a 
 gentleman is sometimes not to be able to bear your- 
 self at all. Lieutenant, what say you ] 
 
 Lieu. I say, by Hermes ! he that lias a fortune 
 And power to acquaint the world with his perfec- 
 tions, 
 And seeks to smother them, let him die wretched.
 
 164 A FINE COMPANION. 
 
 Car. You have no other way than this, to render 
 you worthy of society. 
 
 Cap. What ! he may turn stinkard, and live in 
 the country with roots and bacon, and not drink a 
 cup of good wine in a twelve-month, nor know how 
 the year goes about, but by observation of husband- 
 ry. He may keep two couple of dogs and a spar- 
 row-hawk, and level his discourse by them. He 
 may be styl'd a civil gentleman, ten spheres below 
 a fool. He may marry a knight's daughter, a 
 creature out of fashion, that has not one commend- 
 able quality more than to make a corner pie and a 
 salad, no manner of courtship but two or three 
 dances, as old as Monsieur, and can play a few 
 lessons on the Virginalls that she learnt of her 
 grandam : besides she is simple, and dull in her 
 dalliance. 
 
 Car. He tells thee right, my brave frisker ! they 
 are lumpish girls, heavy in their sport, and cannot 
 move with art. 
 
 Cap. There's a wench has her suburb tricks 
 about her, I warrant you. Hold there Bellerophon ! 
 take thy Ocyrois, and mount her like Phlegon. 
 
 Lack. Now, do I want some two or three good 
 oaths, to express my meaning withall. 
 
 Lieu. Captain, what think you, shall he be a 
 brother ] 
 
 Car. Yes, he deserves it; let him be a brother. 
 Give him the principles of the brotherhood. 
 
 Cap. Are you resolved to be a brother, sir 1 
 
 Lack. Anything I ; you shall make a blowing 
 horn, or what you list of me. 
 
 Cap. Nothing can be suddenly perfect, but must 
 aspire by progression : he must be practised in 
 certain duties before he can be an ingrafted 
 member of the fraternity. 
 
 Car. He shall do anything that is requisite.
 
 A FINE COMPANION. 165 
 
 Cap. Well then, for the first two months we 
 must dine every day at a tavern, where it shall be 
 lawful for any brother to bring his shadow with 
 him ; and, besides the full income of wine and 
 provision, to bespeak any superfluous dish that he 
 affects ; but that which shall most commend the 
 discretion of your worth, is, that after the dissolu- 
 tion of the feast, no man besides yourself must know 
 what's to pay or take notice of the reckoning. 
 
 Lack. I must pay all, must 1 1 
 
 Cap. You understand me rightly, and I applaud 
 your capacity ; from thence, we must have a coach 
 attend at the door, to carry us to a play, and at 
 night to a bawdy-house. 
 
 Lack. And all at my charges 1 
 
 Cap. What else? And if any brother need a 
 cloak or a suit, or so, you must not stay till he 
 publish, or intimate his wants ; but presently, by 
 the strength of your own Minerva, pick out the 
 meaning, and take order to supply him. Have you 
 any credit with the tradesmen 1 
 
 Lack. Yes, I have a tailor that will trust me for 
 anything that I'll have him. 
 
 Cap. That tailor shall have custom, tell him so. 
 And one thing more ; now brother, for so I must 
 call you, we must have all things in common, 
 no difference in the possession of anything. 
 
 Lack. Pray explain that rule to me, I do not 
 understand you. 
 
 Cap. Why thus ; this hat is mine, and that 
 yours, as you conceive now, but they are neither 
 mine nor yours upon the premises ; but may be 
 transferr'd upon occasion to either, as thus, do you 
 conceive me '] Tis usual amongst us. 
 
 Lack. 'Tis very well ! is this all 1 
 
 Cap. I'll make but one experiment more of your 
 apprehension, and have done. Look you ! 
 
 [They shift cloaks.
 
 166 A FINE COMPANION. 
 
 Lack. I shall do this to a hair, and, by the 
 same consequence, I shall be a Captain sometimes ; 
 shall I not 1 
 
 Cap. Yes, when the date of your task is accom- 
 plish^ you shall be anything. 
 
 Car. Tis enough ! this once a week will render 
 him exact. Shad's have a song and a dance, 
 Captain ? 
 
 Cap. Hang a song! you see what little room we 
 have for our mirth, and you would fill it up with 
 air, would you ? 
 
 Car. Nay, but, by that air ! I hold a song very 
 delightsome, the very place, as a man would say, 
 and superficies of pleasure. 
 
 Cap. Prithee let it alone ! by that element it 
 charms me into melancholy. 
 
 Lack. Then, good Captain, let's have a dance, for 
 these gentlewomen's sakes ; besides there be many 
 that come to see nothing else. 
 
 Cap. Why, can you dance 1 
 
 Lack. What a question is there to a man of 
 quality 1 Yes, I can dance, and that some that are 
 here shall see and feel before we part ; for I mean 
 to shake my heels with that fervour, that it shall 
 strike them into a fit of my love, shall be worse 
 than any ague to them. 
 
 Cap. Say you so 1 We'll try that, i'faith. Come 
 on squeakers ! rack up your feet and ears to your 
 instruments. 
 
 Lack. What tune, Captain 1 
 
 Cap. Play us " The Fine Companion." 
 
 The Dance. 
 
 Well said, my effeminate varlets ! this was aus- 
 piciously performed. 
 
 La:k. I am afraid this dancing will breed 
 s])avins in my legs, this caper has put me in
 
 A FINE COMPANION. 167 
 
 remembrance of a crick in my back I got at my 
 last vaulting. 
 
 Cap. No, thou art deceiv'd, my noble Hyacinth ! 
 'tis a mystery will exalt thee, Hylas; 'twill make 
 thee rise I say, and put gold in thy purse. Thou 
 shalt follow the court like a baboon, when a 
 thousand proper fellows shall shirk for their 
 ordinary; 'twill make thee conversant with ladies, 
 and they shall give thee diamonds to pawn, and 
 thou shalt ride up and down in thy foot-cloth, my 
 little dolphin. Some wine there, Tony ! I called for 
 wine an hour ago, and could get none. 
 
 Enter Drawer. 
 
 Fill out, sirrah ! What's here, the epitome of a 
 glass 1 By the womb of Bacchus ! a score of them 
 are too little for a draught. 
 
 Lack. Lord, Captain ! nine such hornets are 
 able to sting a man to death. 
 
 Lieu. By Saint George ! he that dies so, dies 
 valiantly. 
 
 Cap. What, my bold bravo 1 ? be not afraid, and 
 thou wert dead 'twere nothing. I'll come but with 
 a troop of wenches, and a noise of fiddlers, and 
 play thee back like Orpheus. What's to pay, 
 Drawer 1 
 
 Draw. Sir, you have built a sconce, since you 
 came in, of thirty pounds, and before you have 
 any more my master intends to be satisfied. 
 
 Cap. What money have you, brother 1 
 
 Lark. Who, II Lord, brother Captain, I have 
 not the third part of it. 
 
 Gap. No matter, I ne'er think upon such transi- 
 tory reckonings. Come, let's have a health, and 
 my brother Lackwit shall begin it. Reach three 
 joint stools hither, Drawer. 
 
 Lack. What to do, Captain ?
 
 168 A FINE COMPANION. 
 
 Cap. I'll shew you : you shall ascend here, and he 
 Captain of this fort. I'll insconce you ; come, in- 
 trench yourself, and play from your battery, and so 
 every man round ; there take your lintstock in your 
 hand, and give fire ! now every man as far off as he 
 can from the command of his ordinance. Farewell, 
 brother ! [Exeunt. 
 
 Lack. Why, gentlemen, I hope you Avill not use 
 me so. I am your brother ! why gentlemen — 
 
 Cap. There, Drawer, take him for a pawn ; tell 
 him when he has no money he must be serv'd so : 
 'tis one of his chief articles. 
 
 Enter Crochet. 
 
 Cro. How now ! What, are you preaching o'er 
 your cups 1 Now you are in your pontificalibus, 
 indeed. 
 
 Lack. Good Crochet, help me down ! I shall break 
 my neck else. 
 
 Cro. How came you there ? 
 
 Lack. I know not; an ill hour of the brotherhood. 
 I'll after them with a vengeance. 
 
 Draw. You must stay and pay the reckoning 
 first, besides the musicians expect something. 
 
 Lack. Who ! I pay the reckoning 1 'Slight ! I 
 came but now in. 
 
 Draw. That's all one ; you were all of a nest, they 
 are flown away, and there's none left but yourself. 
 
 Lack. 'Sdeath ! the Captain is gone away with my 
 hat, and my cloak too. I tell thee I'll pay no reck- 
 oning. 
 
 Draw. 'Tis all one to me, if you can satisfy my 
 master so. 
 
 Lack. What shall I do, Crochet 1 
 
 Cro. Give him what you have, and, if he will 
 take your word for the rest, I'll excuse your hat 
 and cloak, and say you lost them in a skirmish.
 
 A FINE COMPANION. 1 60 
 
 You must scratch your hands in half-a-dozen places 
 with a pin. 
 
 Lack. Ay, so I will. Come, sir, I'll go in and talk 
 with your master. 
 
 Cro. Besides, I have another business I came to 
 tell you of, that you and I must do together. You 
 shall reap the whole credit on't yourself, if you can 
 manage it handsomely, 'twill gain you that reputa- 
 tion with your father that you shall never lose 
 yourself while you live again. 
 
 Lack. What is't, Crochet ? 
 
 Cro. Go in ! and I'll tell you. [Exeunt. 
 
 Actus IV. Scena II. 
 Aurelio, Spruse. 
 
 Aur. You much amaze me ! 
 
 Spr. Sir, perhaps I might, 
 
 With better judgment and more thanks, conceal 
 So great a wickedness, but my true love to you 
 Could not withhold it. You have read some stories, 
 And these are things in nature not unheard of, 
 No newness at all, the self-same lust and pride 
 As well rules her that treads upon the flint, 
 As her that rides upon the necks of slaves. 
 
 Aur. Stay, let me pause a- while ! she is a woman 
 Whose age and form might tempt me to distrust 
 
 her, 
 But yet her manners forbid me to believe it. 
 
 Spr. Believe't 1 She is a close adult'ress, 
 Of most strange exercise, a fricatrice 
 Insatiable : and has she none but you, 
 That she can find, to bait with her allurements, 
 To cover her lewd projects ] This moved me, 
 I'd not have meddled else. 
 
 Aur. 0, do not wrong her ! 
 
 Good sir, do not wrong her ! it cannot be.
 
 170 A FINE COMPANION. 
 
 Spr. You have been still kept ignorant. For my 
 part, 
 I never yet expected better from them ; 
 I count them but as ordinary chances, 
 Trivial, and drawn out from the lap of fortune. 
 Believe me, sir, there is no day so holy 
 That ceases to betray a woman's falsehood. 
 My medicine works, I shall be even with her 
 
 Am: I sought at first to make her mad in jest, 
 But now I'll make her mad in earnest : yet 
 'Tis not good to be too credulous. A word, sir. 
 I must have better proofs than your bare word, 
 To justify this accusation ; 
 Her virtue must not stumble at a straw. 
 
 Spr. Sir, 'tis not threats that can extort from me 
 More than I list to speak. I see you troubled, 
 And therefore will not leave you in suspense : 
 Know that I made myself experiment. 
 
 [He shews the ring. 
 For all, let this confirm you : this she gave me 
 Upon the premises. 
 
 Am: 0, I shall burst ! 
 
 Here is a sight to make the sun run backward ; 
 Good sir, forgive me, that I prest you so, 
 Consider'! as your own case. Were you he 
 That put your confidence, your happiness, 
 All in a woman's love and found her false 1 
 
 Spr. I must confess I think it would afflict me. 
 I'll leave you, sir, I have discharg'd my conscience, 
 But of more ill, than she has goodness in her. 
 
 [Exit Spruse. 
 
 Actus IV. Scena III. 
 
 Fido, Aukelio. 
 
 Fid. How now ! what, planet-struck 1 How do 
 you, sir 1
 
 A FINE COMPANION. 1 7 1 
 
 This 'tis to be in love : what alterations 
 
 It breeds ! it makes a man forget his friends. 
 
 Come, sir, be merry ; your project has took. 
 
 She fell into her fit soon as she read it, 
 
 And tore the papers and talk'd idly, and shew'd 
 
 The symptoms of the prettiest lunacy. 
 
 What, have you lost your speech] those folded 
 
 . arms 
 
 And frowns express a sorrow, more than love. 
 
 His eyes, though fixt upon their object, shew 
 
 The wandering sphere of his disturbed mind 
 
 Is whirl'd about in error. Pray, look up, sir ! 
 
 Aur. I am not dumb, I have a care within me 
 Speaks to my troubled soul. 
 
 Fid. Why, what's the matter 1 
 
 Aur. hear it then, and witness it for ever. 
 Whene'er thou seest a woman in whose brow 
 Are writ the characters of honesty, 
 And calls the gods to justify her truth, 
 Swear she's a Syren and a crocodile. 
 Conclude her false, it is enough she vows, 
 And speaks thee fair; the winds wait on her lips, 
 Straight to disperse her oaths.* 
 
 Fid. You do but jest, sure. 
 
 Aur. There is not one of them that is the same 
 She would appear to be ; they all are painted. 
 They have a fucus for their face, another 
 For their behaviour, their words, and actions. 
 
 Fid. Come, come ! these are but qualms of 
 jealousy. 
 
 Aur. Give no faith to their brow : for, in that 
 green 
 And flourishing field of seeming virtue, lurks 
 A snake of lust, in whose voluminous wreaths 
 Are folded up a thousand treacheries, 
 Plots, mischiefs, and dissimulations, 
 
 * " Methinks the lady doth profess too much." — Shakespeare.
 
 172 A FINE COMPANION. 
 
 That man ne'er thought of. For, in wicked- 
 ness, 
 The wit of woman was ne'er yet found barren. 
 
 Fid. 1 think he means to be mad himself too : 
 Your reprehensions are too general : 
 For, by these words, your own Valeria suffers. 
 
 Aur. Why, there's the sum of all that I have 
 spoke, - 
 
 The abstract of all falsehood. 'Tis a name will 
 Blister the tongue of fame ; in her report 
 Is drown'd the memory of all wicked women. 
 
 Fid. Is your Valeria false 1 
 
 Aw. Once my Valeria, but now mine no more, — 
 For they have perish'd that have lost their shame— - 
 Is fallen from virtue past recovery. 
 The golden organs of her innocence 
 Are broke, not to be solder'd. 
 
 Fid. In my conscience 
 
 You wrong her. This is nothing but th' abund- 
 ance 
 Of love ; will you go and sup with the Captain 
 And drive away melancholy] 
 
 Aw. O no ! my heart 
 
 Is shut against all mirth. 
 
 Fid. Then I'll go seek 
 
 Your brother out, and he shall go along with 
 
 me : 
 I'll shew him with a perspective, i'faith, 
 What a brave Captain he has ; he shall be 
 In a disguise, as my companion, 
 Then if he will maintain a paradox, 
 That he is either valiant, or honest, 
 I'll be made the scorn of their company, 
 
 Aw. But my fate guides me to the contrary ; 
 For, if my mistress do not honest prove, 
 She's put a period to my life and love.
 
 A FINE COMPANION. 173 
 
 Actus IV. Scena IV. 
 Lackwit, Crochet. 
 
 Cro. Come, be not dismay'd ! whate'er you say, 
 I'll swear it : you must affirm you lost your hat 
 And cloak in a skirmish. 
 
 Lack. So I will, Crochet. 
 
 Mass ! thou wert not with us at the first neither. 
 
 Cro. Why, what if I had, sir? 
 
 Lack. Thou might'st have carried 
 Away two or three of the Captain's oaths with 
 thee. 
 
 Cro. I can coin them myself without any trea- 
 son, I warrant you. 
 
 Lack. Oh, Crochet, I am thinking now how 
 bravely I'll live when my father is dead. 
 
 Cro. Yes, pray, let me hear you ! 
 
 Lack. I have drawn the map of it already. I'll 
 go every day in my cloak lin'd with plush, and my 
 beaver hat ; I'll keep my whores, and my running 
 horses, and I'll maintain thee in as good apyed 
 livery, as the best footman of them all goes in. 
 
 Enter Littlegood. 
 
 Lit. You will, sir % What ungracious villain could 
 have said this 1 Where's your clcak and hat ? 
 Yes, you shall have money to spend another time. 
 
 Enter Fondling. 
 
 Fond. How now, what's the matter ] 
 
 Lit. Look you ! do you know this gentleman 1 
 
 Fond. How comes this about I 
 
 Cro. Nothing but the fortunes of the wars, for- 
 sooth : my young master has been in as stout a 
 fray as ever the genius of Fleet Street trembled at. 
 
 Fond. How was it, son 1
 
 174 A FINE COMPANION. 
 
 Lack. Let Crochet relate, I scorn to be the trum- 
 pet of mine own valour, I. 
 
 Fond. Do tell the story, Crochet. 
 
 Cro. Indeed, he made them all run away, that I 
 am certain of. 
 
 Fond. Nay, but shew us the manner of it. 
 
 Cro. Why, forsooth, I came at the latter end of 
 the feast and the beginning of the fray, and there 
 my young master was got above them all, and 
 stood upon his guard, and held his weapon in his 
 hand so dreadfully, as if he would have poured 
 down his fury upon any man that should come near 
 him. 
 
 Fond. And will you be angry with him for this 1 
 'twas well done, take no wrong of them : better 
 lose all the clothes off from his back than to keep 
 a cloak for his cowardice. 
 
 Cro. Now is the time to move the other business. 
 
 Lack. Well, mother, if you will give me twenty 
 pound more, I'll do you such a piece of service, that 
 you shall thank me for it as long as you live. 
 
 Fond. What is it, son 1 
 
 Lack. Nay, you shall not know before it be done : 
 the conclusion shall crown it. 
 
 Fond. Well, husband, give it this once, and I'll 
 urge you no more. Let's see how the boy will 
 employ it. 
 
 Lit. Yes, send one arrow after another, and lose 
 both. 
 
 Fond. Nay, but give it him for my sake. I am 
 confident he has a good project ; you have example 
 for it in your trade. How many have you, that 
 break daily, and yet their friends set them up two 
 or three times, one after the other 1 
 
 Lit. Once more you shall prevail with me. Here, 
 hold ! but if this miscarry, ne'er ask me for a penny 
 again.
 
 A FINE COMPANION. 175 
 
 Lack I warrant you. Come, Crochet ! 
 
 Fond. Must Crochet go with you 1 
 
 Lack. Yes, 'tis a business that cannot be done by 
 one alone. 
 
 Cro. Well, mistress, pray throw an old shoe after 
 us ! 
 
 Actus IV. Scena V. 
 
 Fido, Careless (disguised). Captain. 
 
 Cap. Gentlemen, you are very welcome ! What, 
 hostess] come hither, good hostess ! 
 
 Enter Hostess. 
 
 Fid. You have a good handsome Hostess, I per- 
 ceive, Captain ! 
 
 Cap. She is cleanly and good condition 'd, that's 
 my comfort; and, by the powers of beauty! if a man 
 were combustible he might find in her eyes that 
 would kindle a conflagration. 
 
 Host. What gentlemen be these, Captain 1 
 
 Cap. Peace, good Hostess, I would not willingly 
 proclaim their disgrace ! one of them is a gentle- 
 man that 1 bastinadoed the other day ; and now 
 he is come to give me a supper, to be reconcil'd to 
 me, but take you no notice. 
 
 Fid. Captain, here is a friend, that I would will- 
 ingly commend to your acquaintance. 
 
 Cap. Sir, as I am a true soldier, I embrace your 
 love in him, and that's as much as I can say. Hostess, 
 these are not ordinary guests with you ; therefore, 
 you must be respectful : and, faith, if you say the 
 word, gentlemen, one of these nights, we'll every 
 man procure as many of our acquaintance as we can, 
 and be merry here at supper for crowns a piece. 
 What think you ? 
 
 Fid. This is not the business we came about, sir.
 
 J 76 A FINE COMPANION. 
 
 Cap. I know it well enough. Hostess, pri'thee, 
 good, sweet, honey, Hostess, step and buy us a 
 joint or two of good meat, and a capon, and lay it 
 to the fire presently. 
 
 Host. Where's the money 1 
 
 Cap. Death to my honour! do not question it, 
 hut do as I hid you. 
 
 Host. 1 have not a sixpence in the world, the 
 cobbler had all I had for mending of your boots. 
 
 Cap. Go ! you must make shift, and get more 
 then. 
 
 Host. Why, if these gentlemen come to bestow a 
 supper on you, let them give me money before- 
 hand. 
 
 Cap. Speak lower, woman ! art mad 1 
 
 Host. ] tell you I have not a penny in the house. 
 
 Cap. Speak lower, I say. Go borrow it of thy 
 neighbours, I'll see it paid. 
 
 Host. Yes, and turn me behind the door for my 
 reckoning ; You have serv'd me so I know not how 
 often. No ! I have trusted you too much already; 
 you have not paid me a penny for your lodging 
 since you came to my house, besides what I have 
 lent you out of my purse. 
 
 Cap. Bane to my credit ! you will exile me 
 beyond the confines of reputation. Go pawn some 
 pewter, or one of thy brass pots ! 'Slight ! do not 
 disgrace me, do anything rather, take the sheets 
 off from my bed. 
 
 Host. Yes, you care not what becomes of any- 
 thing. Why can you not ask them for money ] 
 
 Cap. 'Slife ! a man may plot till his heart ache. 
 An you still seek to cross me you will undo me in 
 my designs. 
 
 Host. You have more signs in your head than 
 hang at all the alehouses in town again. 
 
 Cap. Prithee, woman ! hear me what I say. I
 
 A FINE COMPANION. 177 
 
 know they come to spend upon me, and will crouch, 
 and do anything, yet when I, out of my nobleness, 
 and beyond expectation, shall use them so court- 
 eously, 'twill be such an engagement, that I can 
 borrow ten or twenty pieces of them at my 
 pleasure. 
 
 Host. I tell you I cannot do it, nor I will not. 
 
 [Exit Hostess. 
 
 Cap. Faith, gentlemen ! I must entreat you to 
 excuse me. My Hostess is not very well, she tells 
 me, and I think she is not so well stor'd with 
 necessaries to entertain you as I could wish ; and 
 indeed she has ne'er a spit in the house, therefore 
 we'll defer it till to-morrow night, when 'twill be 
 more convenient at a tavern. 
 
 Fid. Well, sir ! your excuse shall prevail. We 
 are not inexorable upon extremity. 
 
 Cap. In this you have won me to your observ- 
 ance for ever. 
 
 Fid. Captain, I have another thing to propound 
 to you. Here is a friend of mine has lately receiv'd 
 injury from one Master Careless, and, upon debate- 
 ment of the matter, this gentleman is so apprehen- 
 sive of his disgrace, that he can not possible put it 
 up with safety of his reputation, and therefore 
 desires to have it determined in plain field. Now, 
 as he is informed, his adversary accepts of it, and 
 has chosen you for his patron in the quarrel. 
 
 Cap. By the shrine of Phoebus ! I wonder what 
 strange impudence has possest him. As I am a 
 man of honour, I have brought him successively off 
 from a hundred of these to the peril of my life, 
 and yet am daily obnoxious to new assaults for 
 him. 
 
 Fid. Then you disclaim to have any hand in the 
 action 1 
 
 Cap. By the passion of valour, gentlemen ! I'll tell 
 
 M
 
 178 A FINE COMPANION. 
 
 you, I love a noble employment with my life, but, 
 for such a pitiful, drunken, shallow coxcomb, I hate 
 to be seen in such a business. 
 
 Fid. Do you think no better of him, Captain 1 If 
 he be so unworthy, I would advise you not to 
 meddle with him. 
 
 Cap. By the faith of a soldier ! if he have any 
 care of his credit, let him not deal Avith him; he 
 will but defile himself with such an abject. I hold 
 him to be so poor condition'd I would not enter a 
 country gentleman upon him. 
 
 Fid. Yet you keep him company, Captain. 
 
 Cap. I confess I have done, and my intendments 
 were good in it ; I saw him so raw and young, I 
 was induc'd to believe there might be some hopes 
 of him, but, after much impulsion, when I found 
 him so unapt, and indocile in his own nature, I 
 gave him lost, and so I esteem of him, by my life ! 
 
 [Careless puts off his disguise. 
 
 Car. Oh, thou treacherous villain ! dost thou 
 betray me to myself, and belie me to my face 1 How 
 many quarrels have you brought me off from 1 
 
 Cap. Never none, by Jove ! 
 
 Car. I will not rail at you, but I will cudgel you, 
 and kick you, you man of valour ! 
 
 Cap. Hold ! as thou art a man of renown, thou 
 wilt strike thy foot into me else, my body is as 
 tender as a bog. 
 
 Car. Thou cowardly perfidious rascal ! have I, 
 for this, made thee my associate, paid for thy swag- 
 gerings, and breaking of tapsters' and ostlers' 
 pates, fed thee at a charge a man might have built 
 an hospital ; drench'd thee with sack and tobacco, 
 as thy face can witness 1 
 
 Cap. Oh, hold ! as thou art worshipful. 
 
 Car. Come, sir ! surrender your robes, that you 
 have polluted with cosenage. Here, Fido ! take
 
 A FINE COMPANION. 179 
 
 this hat and cloak : I will not leave him a covering 
 for his knavery ; these are the trophies of your 
 treachery, these. 
 
 Cap. Nay, good sir, do not pillage me of all ; stay 
 till I get my own again ! 
 
 Car. If Lackwit will restore them he may, else 
 you must resolve to go bare-headed before your 
 right-worshipful fortune, with a truncheon in your 
 hand like a verger, and so I leave you. Come, Fido ! 
 now for my mistress. 
 
 Cap. Well, those good qualities that are bred in 
 a man "will never out of him, that's my comfort. 
 
 And, since I am the scorn of Captains made, 
 
 I'll seek a better and more thriving trade. 
 
 Actus IV. Scena VI. 
 
 Aurelio, Spruse. 
 
 Aur. Come, sir ! now I have found you, not the 
 power, 
 And strength of fate, shall pull you from my ven- 
 geance. 
 And though I know my life too mean a ransom 
 For the redeeming of the priceless loss 
 Of her abused honour, yet, what Nature 
 Enables thee to pay, I'll take in part, 
 And leave the execution of the rest 
 Unto hell's justice. 
 
 Spr. What do you intend, sir 1 
 
 Aur. Look you : t' unfold your heart, sir, with 
 this sword, 
 And read the falsehood that is written in it. 
 Come, I must know the truth, and reason too, 
 If there be reason for a wicked act. 
 
 Spr. You mean about Valeria 1 
 
 Aur. The same.
 
 180 A FINE COMPANION. 
 
 Still an ill conscience will betray itself, 
 And sends forth many a scowling, fearful look, 
 To descry danger ; if he stand confident, 
 And justify it to the face of terror, 
 Then she is false. 
 
 S-pr. I hear she is run mad. 
 
 Aur. Is, and the cause of her distemperature 
 Is the reproach you put upon her honour. 
 
 Spr. The wound then is too deep, and an ill fate 
 Has driven the shaft of my intended malice 
 Beyond the scope I aim'd at. 
 
 Aur. Was it malice 1 
 
 That word has strook me both with joy and anger, 
 Both in suspense, which shpuld weigh down the 
 
 scale 
 Of my deep burd'ned mind. What horrid baseness 
 Durst so attempt to profane innocence 1 
 
 Spr. It was my love to her. 
 
 A ur. What is his hate, 
 
 Whose love has proved so ominous 1 
 
 Spr. That love 
 
 Being wrong'd, begot that hate. 
 
 Aur. Thou hast done ill, 
 
 And, like a foolish and young exorcist, 
 Hast eonjurd up a spirit of that fury, 
 Thy art cannot allay. 
 
 Spr. Repentance may. 
 
 I only meant to give her name a gash, 
 That might be heal'd again without a scar 
 Or any spreading plaister of wide rumour, 
 With help of her compurgators, but only 
 To vex her. 
 
 Aur. What's the offence that did provoke 
 This imputation 1 Did she ever wrong you, 
 Malign your wit, disgrace you before your mis- 
 tress 1 
 Disparage your behaviour 1 Had she done so,
 
 A FINE COMPANION. 181 
 
 Yet this revenge were disproportionate. 
 
 Spr. Urge me no more ! I cannot look on her 
 Without such a reflection of my crime 
 As must give shame a lustre ; there's no man 
 But once in's life may sin besides his nature, 
 Nay, perhaps contrary : this is a deed 
 I must abhor to justify. 
 
 A ur. You have given 
 
 Almost a satisfaction. 
 
 Spr. ' Twas a scandal, 
 
 Arose from my repulse, and has no witness 
 Besides your ears ; if it were silenc'd there 
 The world were ignorant of it. I hear 
 She is run mad upon the grief; I am sorry 
 Her punishment has outstript my desires. 
 I'll undertake whate'er you shall propose 
 For the recovery of her wits, or honour. 
 
 Aur. And I'll make use of your kind proffer, sir. 
 
 Spr. I will resign her where she most affects, 
 And give you all assistance to obtain her. 
 
 Aur. You speak honestly ! I shall employ you ; 
 I know you have that credit with her father, 
 You may advise him in a thing that reason 
 Shall seem to second ; bring but this to pass, 
 You have made requital for all injuries. 
 
 Spr. Shew me the way, I'll do't ! be you the 
 mover, 
 I'll be the instrument. 
 
 Aur. You are my genius, 
 
 My hope, my opportunity, my fate ; 
 And in effecting this you cannot err 
 To make me happy, and recover her. 
 
 Desinit actus quart, m.
 
 182 A FINE COMPANION. 
 
 Actus V. Scena I. 
 
 Lackwit with a head-piece and a long sword, 
 Crochet, Careless disguised like Dotario. 
 
 Lack. How do I look now, Crochet ] 
 
 Cro. Very dreadfully ! like a citizen in a fray, as 
 fearful as Priapus in a garden. 
 
 Lack. Well, and thou art sure there is but one of 
 them, and he comes disguised like Dotario, to steal 
 away my sister ] 
 
 Cro. Yes, sir ! and this is the old gentleman him- 
 self, and somebody has stole away his habit to 
 abuse him. 
 
 Lack. That man that has done so shall think of 
 me and this place as long as he lives for it. Go and 
 give warning, Crochet! that no man withstand me, 
 unless he be weary of his life. 
 
 Cro. If any man be so hardy, let him take his 
 chance. 
 
 Lack. Let him expect my fury, Crochet. I will 
 batter any man that shall come near me, my fist is 
 like a sling, my head like a ram, and my whole 
 body an engine, and I will make any man toothless 
 that shall offend me. 
 
 Cro. Then you will make his mouth as unservice- 
 able as your father's gumm'd velvet. 
 
 Lack. I long to exercise my puissance ! Thou art 
 sure there is but one of them ] stand by a little, 
 and let me flourish with my sword to animate my 
 spirits. Now, whatsoever he is that comes in my 
 way, I pronounce him to be a miserable mortal. 
 
 [Crochet pulls out three or four Napkins. 
 What hast thou there, Crochet 1 
 
 Cro. I imagin'd there would be a great deal of 
 blood spilt in the skirmish, and so I brought these 
 to wipe the wounds, nothing else, sir. Look you ! 
 here they come.
 
 A FINE COMPANION. 183 
 
 Enter Dotario, ^Emilia. 
 
 Lack. Give by, Crochet, till I question them : it 
 behoves a wise man to deal with words, before he 
 descend to blows. What errant knight are you, sir, 
 and whither do you travel with that damoiselle % 
 
 Cro. Press that point home. 
 
 Dot. 0, brother Lackwit ! how came you so 
 accoutred 1 or were you set here for a watchman to 
 guard us 1 
 
 lack. No, sir, I do not guard, nor regard any 
 man, and yet I'll stand upon my guard, and this 
 is the point I'll maintain. 
 
 Dot. What do you mean, brother Lackwit 1 
 
 Lack. How, I your brother ? No, I scorn to have 
 affiance with such a coney-catcher. You, sir 
 Nessus, deliver up your theft, or I will play the 
 Hercules with you. 
 
 Dot. I am going to marry her ! my name is 
 Dotario, and this is your sister ./Emilia. 
 
 Lack. Ay, she is my sister, but you are a counter- 
 feit, and have stolen her away. 
 
 Cro. Seize her for fellons' goods, she belongs to 
 the Lord of the soil. 
 
 Lack. Thou villain ! dost thou not know, if I 
 were dead, and her other sister, she would be next 
 heir and then thou mightst be hang'd for her 1 
 
 Dot. But I had her consent, and her father's. My 
 name is Dotario, your neighbour, that have fed you 
 with custard and apple-pie a hundred times. 
 
 Lack. Ay, this gentleman has, but you have abus'd 
 him, and took his wrong name upon you. 
 
 Dot. I am the same. 
 
 Cro. He lies ! beat him for lying ! What do you 
 stay for ] 
 
 Lack. I am considering with my eye, which part 
 of him I shall first cut off.
 
 184 A FINE COMPANION. 
 
 Cro. Let's bind him fast, and then lay him upon 
 his back, and geld him. 
 
 Lack. A match ! Let's lay hold on him ! What, 
 is be gone 1 ? how finely might my father have been 
 cheated, and all we now, if I had not been. That's 
 some roguing servingman disguis'd, I'll lay my life 
 on't. If I be not fit to be chronicled for this act 
 of discretion, let the world judge of it. Well, 
 Crochet, when I have married her to the right 
 party, if my father does not give me forty pounds 
 more, he shall marry the next daughter himself. 
 
 Cro. You must not be too sudden now in the 
 opening of your plot, after you have married 
 them. 
 
 Lack. Advise me, good Crochet. 
 
 Cro. Why, before you reveal your proceedings, 
 you shall present yourself with a great deal of 
 confidence, and promise of desert ; walk up and 
 down, with a joyful agony and a trembling joy, as 
 if you had escap'd from a breach, or redeem'd your 
 country ! Then, when you see them sufficiently fill'd 
 with expectation, you may draw the curtain of your 
 valour, and stound them with admiration. 
 
 Lack. So I will, Crochet. Come, let us to the 
 church ! [Exeunt. 
 
 Actus V. Scena II. 
 
 LlTTLEGOOD, SPRTJSE, FONDLING, FlDO. 
 
 Spr. Come, master Littlegood, be comforted ! 
 I have as great a share in the misfortunes 
 Of your distracted daughter as yourself. 
 
 Lit. 0, do not say so ! she was all my joy. 
 
 Fid. Then men begin to understand their 
 good 
 When they have lost it, and an envious eye 
 Seeks after virtue when it is extinct,
 
 A FINE COMPANION. 185 
 
 That hated it alive. 
 
 Lit. You have reason 
 
 To pity me the more and lament for her, 
 Because I destin'd her in marriage to you. 
 
 Spr. And I had well hoped to have been made 
 happy 
 In her affection. A true lover's griefs 
 Transcend a parent's. 
 
 Lit. No, you are deceived ! 
 
 A parent is conffn'd, and his joys bounded, 
 And only limited to such a subject, 
 And, driven from thence, have nowhere else to rest 
 
 on : 
 For, if his children be once taken from him, 
 Which are the cause, then his delight and comfort, 
 That are the effects, needs must vanish with them : 
 But in a lover it falls otherwise, 
 Such as yourself, whose passion, like a deaw,* 
 Can dry up with the beams of every beauty 
 That shall shine warm upon you, need not prize 
 The loss of any. You have no alliance, 
 Nor natural tie commands you to love any 
 More than your fancy guides you ; and the winds 
 Have not so many turnings, nor the sands 
 So many shiftings, nor the moon changes. 
 
 Fid. Sir, you speak truth, upon my knowledge 
 that 
 He is as slippery as an eel, in love, 
 And wriggles in and out, sir, at his pleasure ; 
 He can as easily dispense with vows 
 As swear them; and can, at a minute's warning, 
 If an occasion serve, supply himself 
 With a continual and fresh entertainment 
 Of a new mistress. 
 
 Spr. Troth ! I must confess 
 
 I have been a little faulty in that way. 
 
 * Dough, paste.
 
 186 A FINE COMPANION. 
 
 Fond. And why would you, sir, knowing this be- 
 fore, 
 Suffer your daughter to be abus'd by him t 
 Now, by my life ! I think, an 'twere not for me, 
 You'd wind yourself into such labyrinths, 
 You'd not know how to extricate yourself. 
 
 Lit. Peace, good wife ! since there is no remedy. 
 
 Spr. Do not despair ! there is yet remedy. 
 I know a scholar, a great naturalist, 
 Whose wisdom does transcend all other artists, 
 A traveller besides, and though his body 
 Be distant from the heavens yet his mind 
 Has pierc'd unto the utmost of the orbs, 
 Can tell how first the chaos was distinguish^, 
 And how the spheres are turn'd, and all their secrets, 
 The motion and influence of the stars, 
 The mixture of the elements, and all 
 The causes of the winds, and what moves the earth, 
 And then he has subjected to his knowledge 
 The virtues and the workings of all herbs, 
 And is an iEsculapius in Physic, 
 No grief above his art. 
 
 Lit. Can he heal mad folks 1 
 
 Spr. Were they as mad as Ajax Telamon, 
 That slew an ox instead of Agamemnon, 
 He'll warrant them. 
 
 Fond. How should one speak with him % 
 
 Spr. I brought him with me ! he is at the door. 
 Prithee go call him, Fido ! you shall hear him, 
 And, as you like his speech, so credit him. 
 
 Enter Aurelio, like a Doctor. 
 
 Lit. Is this the man ] 
 
 Spr. This is the doctor, sir ! 
 
 I am bold to make relation of your skill, here, 
 To this old gentleman, who has a daughter 
 That is suspected to be mad.
 
 A FINE COMPANION. 187 
 
 Aur. Suspected ! is she no otherwise] 
 
 Lit. She is stark mad ! 
 
 Aur. It came by love 1 
 
 Lit. Yes sure, Avhat think you on't 1 
 
 Aur. An ordinary disease, and cure. In some 
 things 
 I am of an opinion that Stertinius 
 The Stoic was, who held all the world mad. 
 
 Fond. As how, good Master Doctor 1 
 
 Aur. Thus I prove it ; 
 
 What is ambition and covetousness, 
 Or luxury or superstition, 
 
 But madness in men 1 and these reign generally. 
 Your lawyer trots, and writes, as he were mad, 
 His client is madder than he ; your merchant that 
 
 marries 
 A fair wife, and leaves her at home, is mad : 
 Your courtier is mad to take up silks and velvets 
 On ticket for his mistress ; and your citizen 
 Is mad to trust him. 
 
 Fido. Nay, he is a rare man ! 
 
 And has done many and strange cures, sir. 
 
 Aur. I have, indeed. 
 
 Fond. Pray, relate some of them. 
 
 Aur. To satisfy your ladyship, I will. 
 
 Fond. Yes, good sir, let us hear them. 
 
 Aur. Then, I'll tell you. There was once an 
 astrologer brought mad before me, the circulations 
 of the heavens had turn'd his brain round, he had 
 very strange fits, he would ever be staring and 
 gazing, and yet his eyes were so weak, they could 
 not look up without a staff. 
 
 Spr. A Jacob's staff you mean 1 
 
 Aur. Ay, and he would watch whole nights ; there 
 could not a star stir for him. He thought there was 
 no hurt done but they did it, and that made him 
 look so narrowly to them.
 
 188 A FINE COMPANION. 
 
 Fond. How did you heal him, sir 1 
 
 Aur. Only with two or three sentences out of 
 Picus Mirandula, in confutation of the act ; and as 
 many out of Cornelius Agrippa, for the vanity of 
 it. 
 
 Fond. That was excellent ! 
 
 Aur. The next was a soldier, and he was very 
 furious ; but I quieted him, by getting his arrear- 
 ages paid, and a pension for his life. 
 
 Fond. You took a hard task in hand, Mr Doctor. 
 
 Aur. But the most dangerous of all was a Puritan 
 chandler, and he run mad with illuminations. He 
 was very strangely possest, and talk'd idly, as if 
 he had had a noise of bells in his head ; he thought 
 a man in a surplice to be the ghost of heresy, and 
 was out of love with his own members, because they 
 were called organs. 
 
 Fond. O, monstrous ! 
 
 Aur. Ay, and held very strange positions, for he 
 counted Fathers to be as unlawful in the church, as 
 Plato did poets in his commonwealth, and there- 
 upon grounded his conclusion for the lawfulness of 
 whoredom ; for he said that marriage, as it is now 
 used, was the only ringleader of all mischief. 
 
 Fond. How did you heal him, sir 1 
 
 Aur. Why, lady, with certain pills of sound doc- 
 trine, and they purg'd his ill humours. 
 
 Lit. That was very speedy ! 
 
 Aur. Then, there was a musician that run mad 
 with crochets ; the fit was so violent upon him, that 
 he would nothing but sound perpetually. 
 
 Fond. How did you with him, sir 1 
 
 Aur. I serv'd him as Hercules serv'd his master 
 Linus : broke his fiddle about his pate, and sent 
 him away without e'er a penny, and that brought 
 his head in tune. 
 
 Fond. I'll remember this, i' faith !
 
 A FINE COMPANION. 189 
 
 Aur. Then there was a huntsman that was very 
 wood;* he would do nothing but whoop and hollow, 
 and was wonderfully in love with an echo. 
 
 Fond. How did you reclaim him ] 
 
 Aw. Why, I serv'd him in his own kind. He had 
 a very handsome wench to his wife, and, while he 
 was playing the Cephalus abroad, and courting his 
 Aurora, I turn'd him into an Actseon at home, set a 
 fair pair of horns on his head, and made him a tame 
 beast. 
 
 Fond. Husband, that was excellent ! was it not 1 
 
 Aur. I cured a poet too, and indeed they are a 
 generation that are little better than mad at all 
 times. I was fain to give him over, because himself 
 and others took such delight in his fury. I could 
 not tell what to make of him, his disease was so 
 pretty and conceited, and he was no sooner well, 
 but he would presently fall into a relapse. I could 
 make relation of a thousand such, as painters, al- 
 chymists, and the like, but it would lie tedious. 
 
 Lit. Nay, sir ! we are confirmed of your skill. 
 Will you have my daughter brought forth to you, 
 sir, that you may see her in her fit 1 
 
 Aur. No, by no means, 'twill spend her spirits 
 too much. I'll take her home with me, and anoint 
 her brows with a little Helleborum, and some other 
 receipts that I'll give her, and, I'll warrant you, I'll 
 bring her safe too in three hours, and well recovered. 
 
 Spr. Sir, you will do an office, that will not more 
 deserve honour than reward. 
 
 Aur. Sir, I shall desire nothing but my pains for 
 my satisfaction. 
 
 Fond. Good, sweet Fido, conduct him in, and go 
 along with him ! that if any hereafter shall be so 
 
 * Mad, furious. — " Clean red wud," is a common phrase in 
 Scotland for one out of his wits, — "Red wud" means "wood 
 in a blaze."
 
 190 A FINE COMPANION. 
 
 averse, in his ignorance to all goodness, as to ques- 
 tion this miracle, you may be produc'd as a witness. 
 Lit. And what will you do, sweet wife 1 
 Fond. Why, I'll stay here and expect my son, 
 Lackwit, with his project. He sent me word he 
 would come presently ; and see, where he enters ! 
 
 Enter Lackwit, Crochet. 
 
 Lack. Crochet, bid them stay without, till I call 
 for them ! Make room there, and let such produce 
 their game, that have good cards to show. 
 
 Fond. How now, son Lackwit ! whither away so 
 furious 1 
 
 Lack. I am sure all the wit and valour I had 
 was at stake for it. 
 
 Lit. Why, what's the matter 1 
 
 Lack There was old shuffling and cutting amongst 
 them, an I had not spied their knavery they 
 might have put a trick upon us, faith ! 
 
 Fond. Why, were you at cards, son ? 
 
 Lack. No, I was at dice. I came the caster 
 with some of them I think, and I had like to have 
 made their bones rattle for it. There was a rook 
 would have gone at In and In with my sister ; 
 if I had not made a third man, he would have swept 
 all away, and wiped our noses when he had done. 
 
 Fond. Tell us how was it, son 1 
 
 Lack. No matter how ; but if I have not play'd 
 the wise man now, and done an act worthy of 
 applause, let me be hist off for my labour. 
 
 Lit. Let's hear ! what is it 1 
 
 Lack. If it be no more thanks worthy I'll tell 
 you at my leisure, when you have prepar'd your 
 understanding. 
 
 Lit. What is it, Crochet 1 
 
 Lack. Peace, Sirrah ! I'll have no man tell it but 
 myself, because the praise of it belongs Avholly to
 
 A FINE COMPANION. 191 
 
 me ; an I could but effect half-a-dozen more such 
 exploits, I'd write my own commentaries. 
 
 Fond. You put us too much into a longing, 
 son. 
 
 Lack. Well, I am content to open the sluices of 
 your happiness. Let them in, Crochet, but take 
 heed you be not too greedy of it, lest the sudden 
 joy overwhelm you. 
 
 Enter Careless, ^Emilia, Crochet. 
 
 Lit. What's here % Master Dotario, and my 
 daughter ^Emilia, hand in hand, and married to- 
 gether ! Nay, then 'tis as I would have it. The 
 boy has done well, and I must applaud him for it. 
 
 Lack. 0, must you so, sir 1 Well, there they are 
 bark and tree, but as I am a hairy beast, if I had 
 not been, they had been as far asunder as Temple 
 Bar and Aldgate. 
 
 Fond. How so, son 1 
 
 Lack. Why, I'll shew you : there was another 
 changling as like to him in shape as Jupiter to 
 Amphitruo, nay, if I should say, as I am to, let me 
 see what 1 
 
 Cro. To a fool. 
 
 Lock. No, to thyself, 
 
 Cro. 'Tis all one. 
 
 Lack. That would have married her in his stead, 
 and carried her away, if I had not prevented 
 them. 
 
 Enter Dotario. 
 
 whether it be a shadow or a ghost, that haunts him 
 in his own proper form, I know not, but there he 
 comes again. 
 
 Lit. Why, how now, son Dotario? you have made 
 haste to beget one so like you already. 
 
 Dot. 0, sir, 'tis I am cheated, gull'd, and abus'd,
 
 192 A FINE COMPANION. 
 
 and, which is worse, by one that says he is myself 
 too. 
 
 Lit. Why, what are you 1 
 
 Dot. 0, sir, I am that old gentleman, that 
 should have married your daughter, and there's an 
 Asmodeus, a devil in my habit, that has beguil'd 
 me of her. 
 
 Cro. Come, sir, uncase yourself ! 'tis no glory for 
 you to lurk any longer under the person of such a 
 wretch. 
 
 [Careless puts off his disguise. 
 
 Dot. Who is here ! my nephew Careless 1 nay 
 then 'tis ten times worse than I thought of : my 
 disgrace will be as common as conduit water, the 
 very tankard bearers will mock at me, I shall be 
 made their laughter at taverns, the table talk at 
 ordinaries. 
 
 Car. Nay, good Uncle, do not think so ill of 
 me ! a brace of thousands shall chain up my tongue, 
 that you may live as conceal'd as you please. 
 
 Dot. 0, sir, you have proved yourself to be a Fine 
 Companion. 
 
 Lit. Nay, hold up your head, sir ! this was your 
 device, your master piece of wit, and valour 1 nay, 
 you may brag of it, the credit belongs to you. 
 
 Lack. Crochet, I would thou wert a post, that I 
 might beat out my brains against thee. 
 
 Enter Fido, Aurelio, Valeria. 
 
 Fid. Save you, gentlemen ! 
 
 Spr. Look you, sir ! here's the doctor, and your 
 daughter already. 
 
 Lit. Well, there's some comfort yet to make 
 amends for the rest. 
 
 Fid. Come, down on your knees, sir ! 
 Aurelio uncases. 
 
 Lit. How now, what are you 1
 
 A FINE COMPANION. 193 
 
 Aw, Lately the doctor, but now your son, 
 Aurelio. 
 
 Lit. What, more gulleries yet? They have 
 cosened me of my daughters, I hope they will cheat 
 me of my wife too. Have you any more of these 
 tricks to shew ] ha ! 
 
 Aur. No moi-e, sir, if we may obtain your favour 
 for these, and think, good sir, what love may do ; 
 you have been young yourself. 
 
 Lit. Troth, and so I have, and been as waggish 
 as the best of you. Well, Master Dotario, what 
 shall we do 1 The boys have out-stript us ! there's 
 now no remedy, and my affection relents. 
 
 Dot. So does mine too, and I would do anything 
 if I might be freed of this ignominy, that it might 
 not be known what a fool this love has made of me. 
 
 Fid. I'll undertake for that, sir, if you will yield 
 to a motion. 
 
 Dot. Anything, upon these terms. 
 
 Fid. Then, thus : you are rich, and your nephew 
 Aurelio here is poor, yet he was born to an inheri- 
 tance ; now, do you but confer something presently 
 upon him, and assure him the rest after your death, 
 and I'll promise they shall observe you with as 
 much obsequiousness, as you desire. 
 
 Dot. And what shall my nephew Careless do 1 
 
 Fid. Why, Master Littlegood shall give him his 
 land again. 
 
 Del If he will do one, I'll do the other ! 
 
 Fond. That he shall. I'll see that done, upon my 
 word. 
 
 Lit. I'll not stand against a good motion at any 
 time. 
 
 Dot. Why, then, boys, be happy in your mis- 
 tresses. 
 
 Car, Sir, this speech from you is more comfort- 
 able than if Hymen had spoke it ; and, for my 
 
 N
 
 194 A FINE COMPANION. 
 
 brother Lackwit, I'll take him to my protection 
 and stand in his defence against all niachinous en- 
 gines that shall be planted for the battery of his 
 wit and fortune. 
 
 Cro. Pray, sir, will you get him his cloak and 
 hat, again, that he lost in the skirmish ] 
 
 Car. Ay, so I will ; Fido shall restore them to 
 him. 
 
 Lack. Well, I would know, how all these things 
 had come to so good perfection but for me now? 
 
 Cro. Nay, if fortune should not favour such as 
 you and I are, she would leave her old wont. 
 
 Enter Captain like a Host, Lieutenant with a jug 
 and glass, Hostess. 
 
 Car. What's my old reformado come again % 
 
 Cap. Nay, you need not fear me now. I am as 
 mild as my beer : I am her husband and your host 
 till death. 
 
 Car. What, turn'd host 1 
 
 Cap. Yes, and I thought it my duty to present 
 you with the first fruits of my profession. Fill out a 
 glass, Tapster, that I may drink to this good com- 
 pany. Gentlemen, you are all welcome ! 
 
 Fid. Is this your Tapster, Captain ] 
 
 Cap. Yes, and does he not suit well with his 
 function ] he has learnt already to run upstairs and 
 down stairs, as nimble as a squirel, and can answer 
 to any man that shall call him, as loud and peremp- 
 torily as the best or them. 
 
 Car. That's a good entrance. 
 
 Cap. He is a little out of countenance at the first, 
 but, when you come to my house, you shall hear 
 him speak in a big accent, " what's to pay in the 
 Lion V " What's to pay in the Dragon ?" be not 
 dismay'd Tapster, be not dismay'd ! 
 
 Car. Well, I perceive we must keep holiday :
 
 A FINE COMPANION. 195 
 
 there's nothing angers me now but Master Spruse 
 is disappointed of his mistress. 
 
 Spr. Take no care of that! I have more mistresses 
 than I can tell what to do with. 
 
 Car. Sir, I have a sister, though she had no part 
 in this business yet, for her beauty, virtue, and 
 dowry, may well deserve you : if you can like of 
 her, I'll do what I can to obtain her for you. 
 
 Spr. Sir, you shall command me in what you 
 please, and my thanks for your love; and here I 
 vow never to dissemble any more in this kind, but 
 to be truly and sincerely affectionated to whomso- 
 ever you shall commend me. 
 
 Car. Nay, if you would not do so, you were un- 
 worthy of her. 
 
 To gain a woman's love thus all may strive, 
 But wealth shall be put back, when wit shall 
 thrive. 
 
 FINIS.
 
 THE ANTIQUARY.
 
 The Antiquary. A Comedy, acted by Her Maiesties 
 Servants at the Cock-Pit. Written by Shackerly Mer- 
 mion, Gent. London, Printed by F. K. for J. W. and 
 F. E., and. are to be sold at the Crane, in S. Pauls Church- 
 yard. 1641. 4to.
 
 This play, justly selected by the Editor of Dodsley's Old 
 Plays as one of the best of our early dramatic poetry, has 
 been reprinted in the several editions of that collection. 
 It is also in Sir Walter Scott's Ancient British Drama. 
 He thought very highly of it. 
 
 " It is," says Geneste, " a pretty good play. The 
 nephew's imposing of false antiques on his uncle, in 
 Modern Antiques [by John o' Keefe] is taken from this 
 play, and perhaps a hint for the sham Duke in the 
 ' Honeymoon.' ,: The remark as to " modern antiques " 
 is evident enough, but that in reference to " the Honey- 
 moon " is not so palpable. 
 
 Prefixed to the reprint of the play in Dodsley's collec- 
 tion is this note:— "Mr Samuel Gale told Dr Ducarrel 
 that this comedy was acted two nights in 1718, immedi- 
 ately after the revival of the Society of Antiquaries ; 
 and that therein had been introduced a ticket of a turn- 
 pike (then new) which was called a Tessera. N." 
 
 Foote, in his Comedy of the Nabob, Act III., satirizes, 
 in his usual clever style, the Society of Antiquaries of his 
 period. 
 
 Langbaine, in noticing the ' Antiquary,' in a brief 
 account of Marmyon, observes :— u Aurelio's declaring 
 his marriage to the Duke and Leonardo, from Lucretia's 
 lodging, where he got in by her maid's assistance, is an 
 incident, as I have already shew'd, in several plays." 
 
 Durfey, in his Comedy of 'Madam Fickle; or, the 
 Witty False one,' acted at the Duke of York's Theatre 
 in 1 677, introduces a character called 'Sir Arthur Old- 
 Love,' which is a close copy of Veterano, the Antiquary. 
 
 Although the scene is stated as at Pisa, the mention 
 of " the Rialto " in the first act, and of Venice in the 
 third act, would appear to indicate that Venice and not 
 Pisa was the locale intended by the author. This is, 
 however, immaterial as regards the action of the piece.
 
 THE ACTORS' NAMES. 
 
 The Duke of Pisa. 
 Leonardo, ) fm ^^ 
 
 DONATO, J 
 
 Veterano, the Antiquary. 
 
 Gasparo, a Magnifico of Pisa. 
 
 Lorenzo, an old Gentleman. 
 
 MocciNiGO, an old Gentleman that would appear young. 
 
 Lionell, Nephew to the Antiquary. 
 
 Petrutio, a foolish Gentleman, son to Gasparo. 
 
 Aurelio, a young Gentleman. 
 
 Aurelios father, in the disguise of a Bravo. 
 
 His Boy. 
 
 Petro, the Antiquary's boy. 
 
 ./Emilia, wife to Lorenzo. 
 
 Lucretia, daughter to Lorenzo* 
 
 Angelia, sister to Lionell, in the disguise of a Page. 
 
 ' \ two Waiting-women. 
 Baccha, J 
 
 A Cook. 
 
 Two Servants. 
 
 The Scene, Pisa. 
 
 * In the original edition, JEmelia, in error, is called " wife 
 to Gasparo/' and Lucretia " daughter to Gasparo."
 
 THE ANTIQUARY. 
 
 Actus Primus. 
 
 Enter Lionell and Petrutio. 
 
 Lio. Now, sir, let me bid you welcome to your 
 country, and the longing expectation of those 
 friends, that have almost languish'd for the sight 
 of you. — I must flatter him, and stroke him too, he 
 will give no milk else. [Aside. 
 
 Pet. I have calculated, by all the rules of reason 
 and art, that I shall be a great man : for, what 
 singular quality concurs to perfection and advance- 
 ment, that is defective in me ] Take my feature 
 and proportion ; have they not a kind of sweetness 
 and harmony to attract the eyes of the beholders ? 
 the confirmation of which, many authentical judg- 
 ments of ladies have seal'd and subscrib'd to. 
 
 Lio. How do you, sir ] are you not well 1 
 
 Pet. Next, my behaviour and discourse, accord- 
 ing to the Court-garb, ceremonious enough, more 
 promising than substantial, able to keep pace with 
 the best hunting wit of them all : besides, nature 
 has bless'd me with boldness sufficient, and fortune 
 with means. What then should hinder me ? 
 nothing but destiny, villanous destiny, that chains 
 virtue to darkness and obscurity. Well, I will 
 insinuate myself into the Court, and presence of the 
 Duke : and if he have not the grace to distinguish 
 of worth, his ignorance upon him. 
 
 Lio. What ! in a muse, sir ]
 
 202 THE ANTIQUARY. 
 
 Pet. Cannot a gentleman ruminate over his good 
 parts, but you must be troubling of him 1 
 
 Lio. Wise men and fools are alike ambitious. 
 This travelling motion has been abroad in quest of 
 strange fashions, where his spungy brain has suck'd 
 the dregs of all the folly he could possibly meet 
 with, and is indeed more ass than he went forth. 
 Had I an interest in his disgrace, I'd rail at him, 
 and perhaps beat him for it ; but he is as strange 
 to me as to himself, therefore let him continue in 
 his belov'd simplicity. [Aside. 
 
 Pet. Next, when he shall be instructed of my 
 worth, and eminent sufficiencies, he cannot dignify 
 me with less employment than the dignity of an em- 
 bassador. How bravely shall I behave myself in 
 that service ! and what an ornament unto my 
 country may I arrive to be, and to my kindred ! But 
 I will play the gentleman, and neglect them ; that's 
 the first thing I'll study. 
 
 Lio. Shall I be bold to interrupt you, sir 1 
 
 Pet. Presently I'll be at leisure to talk with you. 
 Tis no small point in State policy, still to pretend 
 only to be thought a man of action, and, rather 
 than want a colour, be busied with a man's own 
 self. 
 
 L'w. Who does this ass speak to 1 surely to him- 
 self : and 'tis impossible he should ever be wise, 
 that has always such a foolish auditory. [Aside. 
 
 Pet. Then, with what emulous courtship will 
 they strive to entertain me in foreign parts ! And 
 what a spectacle of admiration shall I be made 
 amongst those who have formerly known me ! 
 How dost thou like my carriage 1 
 
 Lio. Most exquisite ; believe me. 
 
 Pet. But is it adorn'd with that even mixture of 
 fluency and grace, as are required both in a Statist 
 and a Courtier ]
 
 THE ANTIQUARY. 203 
 
 Lio. So far as the divine prospect of my under- 
 standing guides me, g'tis without parallel most 
 excellent ; but I am no profess'd critic in the 
 mystery. 
 
 Pet. Well, thou hast Linceus' eyes * for observa- 
 tion, or could'st ne'er have made such a cunning 
 discovery of my practice ; but will the ladies, think 
 you, have that apprehension to discern and ap- 
 prove of me 1 
 
 Lio. Without question ; they cannot be so dull 
 or stony-hearted, as not to ba infinitely taken with 
 your worth. Why, in a while, you shall have 
 them so enamour'd, that they'll watch every oppor- 
 tunity to purchase your acquaintance ; then again 
 revive it with often banquetting and visits ; nay, 
 and perhaps invite others, by their foolish example, 
 to do the like ; and some that despair of so great 
 happiness will enquire out your haunts, and walk 
 there two or three hours together, to get but a 
 sight of you. 
 
 Pet. Oh infinite ! I am transported with the 
 thought on't ! It draws near noon, and I appointed 
 certain gallants to meet me at the five-crown ordin- 
 ary : after, we are to wait upon the like beauties you 
 talk'd of, to the public theatre. I feel of late a 
 strong and witty genius growing upon me, and I 
 begin, I know not how, to be in love with this 
 foolish sin of poetry. 
 
 Lio. Are you, sir 1 there's great hopes of you. 
 
 Pet. And the reason is, because they say 'tis both 
 the cause and effect of a good wit, to which I can 
 sufficiently pretend : for nature has not play'd the 
 step-dame with me. 
 
 * Lynceus, son of Aphareus, was among the hunters of the 
 Calydonian boar, and one of the Argonauts. He was so sharp- 
 sighted that, as it is reported, he could see through the earth, 
 and distinguish objects at the distance of above nine miles.
 
 204 THE ANTIQUARY. 
 
 Lio. In good time, sir. 
 
 Pet. And now you talk of time, what time of day 
 is it by your watch % 
 
 Lio. I have none, sir. 
 
 Pet. How, ne'er a watch 1 oh monstrous ! how 
 do you consume your hours 1 Ne'er a watch 1 'tis 
 the greatest solecism in society that e'er I heard of : 
 ne'er a watch 1 
 
 Lio. How deeply you conceive of it ! 
 
 Pet. You have not a gentleman, that's a true 
 gentleman, without one ; 'tis the main appendix to 
 a plush lining : besides, it helps much to discourse; 
 for, while others confer notes together, Ave confer 
 our watches, and spend good part of the day with 
 talking of it. 
 
 Lio. Well, sir, because I'll be no longer destitute 
 of such a necessary implement, I have a suit to 
 you. 
 
 Pet. A suit to me 1 Let it alone till I am a great 
 man, and then I shall answer you with the greater 
 promise, and less performance. 
 
 Lio. I hope, sir, you have that confidence I will 
 ask nothing to your prejudice, but what shall some 
 way recompense the deed. 
 
 Pet. What is't ] Be brief, I am in that point a 
 Courtier. 
 
 Lio. Usurp then on the proffer'd means, 
 Shew yourself forward in an action 
 May speak you noble, and make me your friend. 
 
 Pet. A friend ! what's that ] I know no such 
 thing. 
 
 Lio. A faithful, not a ceremonious friend ; 
 But one that will stick by you on occasions, 
 And vindicate your credit, were it sunk 
 Below all scorn, and interpose his life 
 Betwixt you and all dangers : such a friend, 
 That when he sees you carried by your passions
 
 THE ANTIQUARY, 205 
 
 Headlong unto destruction, will so follow you, 
 That he will guide you from't, and with good 
 
 counsel 
 Redeem you from ill courses : and, not flattering 
 Your idle humour to a vain expense, 
 Cares not to see you perish, so he may 
 Sustain himself a while, and raise a fortune, 
 Though mean, out of your ruins, and then laugh at 
 you. 
 
 Pet. Why, be there any such friends as these 1 
 
 Lio. A word : 
 
 They walk like spirits, not to be discern'd ; 
 Subtile and soft like air, an oily balm 
 Swimming o'er [all] their words and actions ; but 
 Below it a flood of gall. 
 
 Pet. Well, to the purpose ! speak to the purpose, 
 
 Lio. If I stand link'd unto you, 
 The Gordian knot were less dissoluble, 
 A rock less firm, or centre moveable. 
 
 Pet. Speak your demand ! 
 
 Lio. Do it, and do it freely then ! lend me a 
 hundred ducats. 
 
 Pet. How is that 1 lend you a hundred ducats ? 
 Not a — I'll never have a friend while I breathe. 
 First :— no, I'll stand upon my guard ; I give all the 
 world leave to whet their wits against me, work 
 like moles to undermine me, yet I'll spurn all their 
 deceits like a hillock. I tell thee, I'll not buy the 
 small repentance of a friend or whore, at the rate 
 of a livre. 
 
 Lio. What's this 1 I dare not 
 Trust my own ears, silence choke up my anger. 
 A friend, and whore ! are they two parallels, 
 Or to be nam'd together 1 May he never 
 Have better friend, that knows no better how 
 To value them. Well, I was ever jealous 
 Of his baseness, and now my fears are ended.
 
 20G TITK ANTIQUARY. 
 
 Pox o' these travels ! they do but corrupt 
 
 A good nature, and his was bad enough before, 
 
 Enter An<jklia. 
 
 Pet. A\ r liat pretty sparkle of humanity liavo we 
 here? "Whose attendant are yon, my little knave] 
 
 .tinj. I wait, sir, on Master Lionell. 
 
 IAo. 'Tis well you are come. What says the 
 gentleman 1 
 
 Ang. I deliver'd your letter to him. lie is very 
 sony lie can furnish you no better ; he lias sent you 
 twenty crowns, he says, towards the large debt he 
 owes you. 
 
 I'd. A line child ! and delivers his tale with 
 good method. Where, in the name of ( iauymede, 
 liad'st thou this epitome ol' a servitor? 
 
 Lio. You'd little think of what consequence and 
 pregnancy this imp is : you may hereafter have 
 both cause to know and love him. — What gentle- 
 men are these 1 
 
 Enter Ganraro and Lorknzo. 
 
 I'vt. ( >ne is my father. 
 
 L<n\ I hear your son, sir, is ret urn'd from travel, 
 Grown up a fine and stately gentleman, 
 Outstrips his compeers iii each liberal science. 
 
 Gas. I thank my stars, he has iniprov'd his 
 time 
 To the best- use, can render an account 
 Of all his journal ; how he has arriv'd. 
 Through strange discoveries and compendious 
 
 ways. 
 To a most perfect knowledge of himself; 
 Can give a model of each Prince's Court, 
 And is become their fear. lie has a mind 
 Equally pois'd, and virtue without sadness ; 
 Hunts not for fame, through an ill path of life ;
 
 THE ANTIQUARY. 207 
 
 But is indeed, for all parts, so accompli si i'd, 
 As I could wish or frame him, 
 
 Lor. These are joys, 
 
 In their relation to you, so transcendent, 
 As than yourself I know no man more happy. 
 May I not see your son 1 
 
 Gas. See, where he stands, 
 
 Accompanied with young Lionell, the nephew 
 To Veteran o the great antiquary. 
 
 Lor. I'll be bold, by your favour, to endear 
 Myself in his acquaintance. Noble Petrutio, 
 Darling of Venus, minion of the Graces, 
 Let me adopt me heir unto your love : 
 That is, yours by descent, and which your father, 
 A grave wise man and a Magnifico, 
 Has not disdain'd, 
 
 Pet. I am much bound to you for it. 
 
 Lor. Is that all ] 
 
 Pet. See the abundant ignorance of this age ! he 
 cites my father for a precedent. Alas, he is a good 
 old man, and no more; there he stands! he has not 
 been abroad, nor known the world ; therefore, I 
 hope will not be so foolishly peremptory to com- 
 pare with me for judgment, that have travell'd, 
 seen fashions, and been a man of intelligence. 
 
 Lor. Signior, your ear! pray let's counsel you. 
 
 Pet. Counsel me 1 the like trespass again ; sure 
 the old man doats ! Who counsell'd me abroad, 
 when 1 had none but mine own natural wisdom 
 for my protection 1 Yet, I dare say, I met with 
 more perils, more variety of allurements, more 
 Circes, more Calypsos, and the like, than e'er were 
 fain'd upon Ulysses. 
 
 Lor. It shew'd great wisdom, that you could avoid 
 them. 
 Give o'er, and tempt your destiny no further ! 
 'Tis time now to retire unto yourself :
 
 208 THE ANTIQUARY. 
 
 Settle your mind upon some worthy beauty ; 
 A wife will tame all wild affections. 
 I have a daughter, who, for youth and beauty, 
 Might be desir'd, were she ignobly born ; 
 And for her dowry, that shall no way part you. 
 If you accept her, here before your friends, 
 I will betroth her to you. 
 
 Pet. I thank you, sir ! you'd have me marry your 
 daughter ; is it so 1 
 
 Lor. With your good liking, not otherwise. 
 
 Pet. You nourish too great an ambition. What 
 do you see in me, to make such a motion ] No, be 
 wise and keep her ; were I married to her I 
 should not like her above a month at most. 
 
 Lor. How ! not above a month 1 
 
 Pet. I'll tell you, sir, I have made an experience 
 that way on my nature : when I have hir'd a creature 
 for my pleasure, as 'tis the fashion in many places, 
 for the like time that I told you of, I have been so 
 tired with her before 'twas out, as no horse like me ; 
 I could not spur my affection to go a jot further. 
 
 Gas. Well said, boy ! thou art e'en mine own 
 son ; when I was young, 'twas just my humour. 
 
 Lio. You give yourself a plausible commends. 
 
 Pet. I can make a shift to love ; but having 
 enjoy 'd, fruition kills my appetite : no, I must have 
 several objects of beauty to keep my thoughts 
 always in action, or I am nobody. 
 
 Gas. Still mine own flesh and blood ! 
 
 Pet. Therefore I have chose Honour for my mis- 
 tress, upon whose wings I will mount up to the 
 Heavens : where I will fix myself a constellation 
 for all this under-world of mortals to wonder 
 at me. 
 
 Gas. Nay, he is a mad wag, I assure you, and 
 knows how to put a price upon his desert. 
 
 Pet. I can no longer stay to dilate on these
 
 THE ANTIQUARY. 209 
 
 vanities ; therefore, gallants, I leave you. [Exit. 
 
 Lm: What, is he gone 1 Is your son gone 1 
 
 Gas. So it seems. Well, gallants, where shall I 
 see you anon ] 
 
 Lor. You shall not part with us. 
 
 Gas. You shall pardon me ; I must wait upon 
 my son. [Exit. 
 
 Lor. Do you hear, signior 1 A pretty prefer- 
 ment ! 
 Lio. Oh, sir, the lustre of good clothes, or breeding, 
 Bestow'd upon a son, will make a rustic, 
 Or a mechanic father, to commit 
 Idolatry, and adore his own issue. 
 
 Aug. They are so well match'd, 'twere pity to 
 part them. 
 
 Lor. Well said, little-one ! I think thou art wiser 
 than both them. 
 But this same scorn I do not so well relish ; 
 A whoreson humorous phantastic novice 
 To contemn my daughter ] He is not worthy 
 To bear up her train. 
 
 Lio. Or kiss under it. 
 
 Will you revenge this injury upon him 1 
 
 Lor. Revenge ! Of all the passions of my blood, 
 'Tis the most sweet ; I should grow fat to think 
 
 on't, 
 Could you but promise. 
 
 Lio. Will you have patience 1 
 
 Be rul'd by me, and I will compass it 
 To your full wish. We'll set a bait afore him, 
 That he shall seize as sharply as Jove's eagle 
 Did snatch up Ganymede. 
 
 Lor. Do but cast the plot, 
 
 I'll prosecute it with as much disgrace 
 As hatred can suggest. 
 
 Lio. Do you see this Page, then 1 
 
 Lor. Ay ! what of him ] 
 
 Lio. That face of his shall do it. 
 

 
 210 THE ANTIQUARY. 
 
 Lor. What shall it do 1 Methinks he has a pretty 
 innocent countenance. 
 
 Lio. Oh ! but beware of a smooth look at all 
 times. 
 Observe what I say : he is a Siren above, 
 But below a very serpent. No female scorpion 
 Did ever carry such a sting, believe it. 
 
 Lor. What should I do with him % 
 
 Lio. Take him to your house ! 
 
 There keep him privately, till I make all perfect. 
 If ever alchymist did more rejoice 
 In his projection, never credit me. 
 
 Lor. You shall prevail upon my faith, beyond 
 My understanding. And, my dapper 'squire, 
 If you be such a precious wag, I'll cherish you. 
 Come, walk along with me. Farewell, sir ! 
 
 Lio. Adieu ! [Exeunt Lorenzo and Angelia. 
 
 Now I must travel, on a new exploit, 
 To an old Antiquary ; he is my uncle, 
 And I his heir. Would I could raise a fortune 
 Out of his ruins ! He is grown obsolete, 
 And 'tis time he were out of date. They say he sits 
 All day in contemplation of a statue 
 With ne'er a nose, and doats on the decays 
 With greater love than the self-lov'd Narcissus 
 Did on his beauty. How shall I approach him 1 
 Could I appear but like a Sibyl's son, 
 Or with a face rugged as father Nilus 
 Is pictur'd on the hangings, thei*e were hope 
 He might look upon me. How to win his love 
 I know not. If I wist he Avere not precise, 
 I'd lay to purchase some stale interludes, 
 And give him them ; books that have not attain'd 
 To the Platonic year, but wait their course, 
 And happy hour, to be reviv'd again : 
 Then would I induce him to believe they were 
 Some of Terence's hundred and fifty comedies
 
 THE ANTIQUARY. 211 
 
 That were lost in the Adriatic sea, 
 
 When he return'd from banishment. Some such 
 
 Gullery as this might be enforced upon him. 
 
 I'll first talk with his man, and then consider. [Lxlt. 
 
 Enter Lorenzo, Gasparo, Moccinigo, and 
 
 Angelia. 
 
 Lor. How hapt you did return again so soon, 
 sir] 
 
 Gas. I'll tell you, sir. As I follow'd my son 
 From the Eialto, near unto the bridge 
 We were encount'red by a sort * of Gallants, 
 Sons of Clarissimos, and Procurators 
 That knew him in his travels : whereupon 
 He did insinuate with his eyes unto me, 
 I should depart and leave them. 
 
 Lor. 'Seems he was asham'd of your company 1 
 
 Gas. Like will to like, sir. 
 
 Lor. What grave and youthful gentleman's that 
 with you 1 
 
 Gas. Do you not know him ? 
 
 Lor. No. 
 
 Gas. Not Sismior Moccinie;o ? 
 
 Lor. You jest, I am sure. 
 
 Gas. Ay, and there hangs a jest : 
 For, going to a courtezan this morning, 
 In his own proper colour, his grey beard, 
 He had th' ill luck to be refus'd ; on which, 
 He went and dy'd it, and came back again, 
 And was again, with the same scorn, rejected, 
 Telling him, that she had newly deny'd his father. 
 
 Lor. Was that her answer 1 
 
 Gas. It has so troubled him, 
 That he intends to marry. What think you, sir, 
 
 * A number — a great body. " I speak it not gloriously, nor 
 out of affectation, but there's he and the Count Frugale, Sig- 
 nior Illustre, Signior Luculento, and a sort of them."
 
 212 THE ANTIQUARY. 
 
 Of his resolution 1 
 
 Lor. By'r lady, it shows 
 
 Great haughtiness of courage : a man of his years 
 That dares to venture on a wife. 
 
 Moc. A man of my years 1 I feel 
 My limbs as able as the best of them ; 
 And in all places else, except my hair, 
 As green as a bay-tree : and for the whiteness 
 Upon my head, although it now lie hid, 
 What does it signify, but like a tree that blossoms 
 Before the fruit come forth ] And, I hope a tree 
 That blossoms is neither dry nor wither'd. 
 
 Lor. But pray, what piece of beauty's that you 
 mean 
 To make the object of your love 1 
 
 Moc. Ay, there 
 
 You 'pose me : for I have a curious eye, 
 And am as choice in that point to be pleased, 
 As the most youthful. Here one's beauty takes me ; 
 And there her parentage or good behaviour ; 
 Another's Avealth or wit ; but I'd have one 
 Where all these graces meet, as in a centre 
 
 Gas. You are too ambitious. You'll hardly 
 find 
 Woman or beast that trots sound of all four : 
 There will be some defect. 
 
 Moc. Yet this I resolve on, 
 
 To have a maid tender of age and fair. 
 Old fish and young flesh, that's still my diet.* 
 Lor. What think you of a Widow 1 
 Moc. By no means : 
 
 They are too politic a generation : 
 Prov'd so by similes. Many voyages 
 Make an experienc'd seaman ; many offices 
 
 * This, as the Editors of Dodsley's collection remark, is 
 adapted from Chancer in his Merchant's Tale. Pope, in Janu- 
 ary and May, seizes on the same idea.
 
 THE ANTIQUARY. 213 
 
 A crafty knave ; so, many marriages, 
 
 A subtile cunning widow. No, I'll have one 
 
 That I may mould, like wax, unto my humour. 
 
 Lor. This doating ass is worth, at least, a mil- 
 lion, 
 And, though he cannot propagate his stock, 
 Will be sure to multiply. I'll offer him my 
 
 daughter. 
 By computation of age, he cannot 
 Live past ten years ; by that time she'll get 
 
 strength 
 To break this rotten hedge of matrimony, 
 And after have a fair green field to walk in, 
 And wanton where she please [aside]. Signior, a 
 
 word ! 
 And by this guess my love : I have a daughter, 
 Of beauty fresh, of her demeanour gentle, 
 And of a sober wisdom : you know my estate. 
 If you can fancy her seek no further. 
 
 Moc. Thank you, signior : pray of what age 
 Is your daughter ] 
 
 Lor. But sixteen, at the most. 
 
 Moc. But sixteen 1 is she no more ] She is too 
 young, then. 
 
 Gas. You wish'd for a young one, did you not ] 
 
 Moc. Not that I would have her in years. 
 
 Gas. I warrant you ! 
 
 Moc. Well, mark what I say : when I come to 
 her, 
 She'll ne'er be able to endure me. 
 
 Lor. I'll trust her. 
 
 Gas. I think your choice, sir, cannot be amended, 
 She is so virtuous and so amiable. 
 
 Moc. Is she so fair and amiable 1 I'll have her ! 
 She may grow up to what she wants ; and then 
 I'shall enjoy such pleasure and delight, 
 Such infinite content in her embraces,
 
 214 THE ANTIQUARY. 
 
 I may contend with Jove for happiness ! 
 Yet one thing troubles me. 
 
 Gas. What's that l 
 
 Moc. I shall live so well on earth, 
 I ne'er shall think of any other joys. 
 
 Gas. I wish all joy to you ! but 'tis in th' power 
 Of fate to work a miracle upon you. 
 You may obtain the grace, with other men, 
 To repent your bargain before you have well seal'd 
 it. 
 
 Lor. Or she may prove his purgatory, and send 
 him 
 To Heaven the sooner. 
 
 Gas. Such like effects as these 
 Are not unheard of in nature. 
 
 Moc. For all these scruples, 
 I am resolv'd. Bring me that I may see her ! 
 Young handsome ladies are like prizes at a horse- 
 race, where 
 Every well-breath'd gentleman may put in for his 
 share. [Exeunt. 
 
 Enter Duke and Leonardo. 
 
 Leo. But are you resolv'd of this course, sir 1 
 
 L)u. Yes ; we'll be once mad in our days, and 
 do an exploit for posterity to talk of. Will you 
 join with me 1 
 
 Leo. I am at your Grace's disposing. 
 
 Du. No grace, nor no respect, I beseech you, 
 more than ordinary friendship allows of : 'tis the 
 only bar to hinder our designs. 
 
 Leo. Then, sir, what fashion you are pleas'd to 
 appoint me, I will be glad to put on. 
 
 Luke. 'Tis well. For my part, 1 am determin'd 
 to lay by all ensigns of my Royalty for awhile, and 
 walk abroad under a mean coverture. Yariety does 
 well ; and 'tis as great delight, sometimes, to
 
 THE ANTIQUARY. 215 
 
 shroud one's head under a coarse roof, as a rich 
 canopy of gold. 
 
 Leo. But what's your intent in this 1 
 
 Duke. I have a longing desire to seethe fashions 
 of the vulgar ; which, should I affect in mine own 
 person, I might divert them from their humours. 
 The face of greatness would affright them, as Cato 
 did the Floralio from the theatre.* 
 
 Leo. Indeed, familiarity begets boldness. 
 
 Da. Tis true, indulgency and flattery take 
 away the benefit of experience from Princes, which 
 ennobles the fortunes of private men. 
 
 Leo. But you are a Duke, sir ; and this descent 
 from your honour will undervalue you. 
 
 Da. Not a whit. I am so toil'd out with grand 
 affairs, and dispatching of embassages, that I am 
 ready to sink under the burthen. Why may not 
 an Atlas of State, such as myself, that bears up 
 the weight of a commonwealth, now and then, for 
 recreation's sake, be glad to ease his shoulders 1 
 Has not Jupiter thrown away his rays and his 
 thunder to walk among mortals 1 Does not 
 Apollo suffer himself to be depriv'd of his quiver, 
 that he may waken up his Muse sometimes, and 
 sing to his harp ] 
 
 Leo. Nay, sir, to come to a more familiar ex- 
 ample : I have heard of a Nobleman that has been 
 drunk with a tinker, and of a Magnifico that has 
 play'd at blow-point. f 
 
 * Games celebrated at Rome in honour of Flora. These 
 began on the 28th April annually, and continued for several 
 days, exhibiting scenes of the most unbounded licentiousness. 
 Cato, it is said, had once signified his wish to be present at the 
 celebration, but when he saw that the awe occasioned by his 
 presence interrupted the festival, he retired, not choosing to 
 be a spectator of the antics of nude women in a public theatre. 
 
 + 'A children's game, conjectured by Strutt to consist in 
 blowing au arrow through a trunk at certain numbers by way 
 of lottery. Nares thinks it was blowing small pins or points
 
 2 1 6 THE ANTIQUARY. 
 
 Du. Very good then, take our degrees alike, 
 and the act's as pardonable. 
 
 Leo. In a humour, sir, a man may do much. 
 But how will you prevent their discovery of you ] 
 
 Du. Very well ; the alteration of our clothes 
 will abolish suspicion. 
 
 Leo. And how for our faces % 
 
 Du. They shall pass without any seal of dis- 
 guise. Who ne'er were thought on, will ne'er be 
 mistrusted. 
 
 Leo. Come what will, greatness can justify any 
 action whatsoever, and make it thought wisdom ; 
 but if Ave do walk undiscern'd, 'twill be the better. 
 It tickles me to think what a mass of delight we 
 shall possess, in being, as 'twere, the invisible 
 spectators of their strange behaviours. I heard, 
 sir, of an Antiquary, who, if he be as good at wine 
 as at history, he is sure an excellent companion ; 
 and of one Petrutio, who plays the eagle in the 
 clouds : and, indeed, divers others, who verify the 
 proverb, So many men, so many humours. 
 
 Du. All these we'll visit in order : but how 
 we shall comply with them, 'tis as occasion shall 
 be offered, we will not now be so serious to con- 
 sider. 
 
 Leo. Well, sir, I must trust to your wit to 
 manage it. Lead on ! I attend you. [Exeunt. 
 
 Finis Actus pimi. 
 
 against each other. — See Apollo Shroving, 1627, p. 49 ; Hawkin's 
 
 English Drama, iii. 243 ; Strutt's Sports, p. 403 ; Florio, ed. 
 
 1611, p. 50Q"—Halliwell. 
 
 " My mistress upon good days puts on a piece of a parsonage ; 
 
 And we pages play at blow-point for a piece of a parsonage." 
 
 The Return from Parnassus, a. 3. s. 1.
 
 the antiquary. 217 
 
 Actus Secundus. 
 
 Enter Aurelio and Musicians. 
 
 Aur. This is the window ! Now, ray noble 
 Orpheus, 
 As thou affect'st the name of rarity, 
 Strike with the soul of music, that the sound 
 May bear my love on his bedewed wing, 
 To charm her ear : as when a sacrifice, 
 With his perfumed steam flies up to Heaven, 
 Into Jove's nostrils, and there throws a mist 
 On his enraged brow. Oh how my fancy 
 Labours with the success ! [Song above. 
 
 Eider Lucretia. 
 
 Lnc. Cease your fool's note there ! I am not in 
 tune 
 To dance after your fiddle. Who are you ? 
 What saucy groom, that dares so near intrude, 
 And with offensive noise, grate on my ears 1 
 
 Aur. What more than earthly light breaks 
 through that window ] 
 Brighter than all the glittering train of nymphs 
 That wait on Cynthia, when she takes her progress 
 In pursuit of the swift enchased deer 
 Over the Cretan or Athenian hills ; 
 Or when, attended with those lesser stars, 
 She treads the azure circle of the Heavens. 
 
 Luc. Hey-dey, this is excellent ! What voice is 
 that 1 
 Oh, is it you 1 I cry you mercy, sir : 
 I thought as much ; these are your tricks still with 
 
 me. 
 You have been sotting on't all night with wine, 
 And here you come to finish out your revels. 
 I shall be, one day, able to live private, —
 
 218 THE ANTIQUAKY. 
 
 I shall, and not be made the epilogue 
 
 Of all your drunken meetings. For shame, away ! 
 
 The rosy morning blushes at thy baseness. 
 
 Julia, go throw the Music a reward, 
 
 And set them hence ! 
 
 Aur. Divine Lucretia, 
 
 Do not receive with scorn my proffer'd service : 
 Oh turn again, though from your arched brow, 
 Stung with disdain, and bent down to your eye, 
 You shoot me through Avith darts of cruelty. 
 Ah, foolish man, to court the flame that burns him ! 
 
 Luc. What would this fellow have 1 
 
 Aur. Shine still, fair mistress ! 
 And, though in silence, yet still look upon me ; 
 Your eye discourses with more rhetoric 
 Than all the gilded tongues of orators. 
 
 Luc. Out of my pity, not my love, I'll answer. 
 You come to woo me, and speak fair ; 'tis well ! 
 You think to win me too : you are deceiv'd ; 
 For when I hate a person, all his actions, 
 Though ne'er so good, prove but his prejudice : 
 For flatteries are like sweet pills, though sweet, 
 Yet if they work not straight, invert to poison. 
 
 Aur. Why, do you hate me, lady 1 Was there ever 
 Woman so cruel to hate him that lov'd her 1 
 Oh, do not so degenerate from nature, 
 Which form'd you of a temper soft as silk : 
 And to the sweet composure of your body, 
 Took not a drop of gall or corrupt humour, 
 But all your blood was clear and purified . 
 Then as your limbs are fair, so be your mind ; 
 Cast not a scandal on her curious hand, 
 To say, she made that crooked, or uneven ; 
 For virtue is the best, which is deriv'd 
 From a sweet feature. Women crown their youth 
 With the chaste ornaments of love and truth. 
 
 Luc. This is a language you are studied in,
 
 THE ANTIQUARY. 2 1 9 
 
 And you have spoke it to a thousand. 
 
 A ur. Never, 
 
 Never to any ! for my soul is cut so 
 To the proportion of what you are, 
 That all the other beauty in the world, 
 That is not found within your face, seems vile. 
 Oh ! that I were a veil upon that face, 
 To hide it from the world ! Methinks I could 
 Envy the very sun for gazing on you ! 
 
 Luc. I wonder, that a fellow of no worth 
 Should talk thus liberally : be so impudent, 
 After so many slightings and abuses 
 Extolled from me, beyond modesty, 
 To press upon me still. Have not I told you 
 My mind in words, plain to be understood, 
 How much I hate you 1 Can I not enjoy 
 The freedom of my chamber, but you must 
 Stand in my prospect ] If you please, I will 
 Eesign up all and leave you possession. 
 What can I suffer, or expect more grievous, 
 From the enforcement of an enemy 1 
 
 Aw. Do not insult upon my sufferings. 
 I had well hop'd I should receive some comfort 
 From the sweet influence of your words or looks ; 
 But now must fly, and vanish like a cloud, 
 Chas'd with the wind, into the colder regions 
 Where sad despair sits ever languishing ; 
 There will I calculate my injuries, 
 Summ'd up with my deserts : then shall I find 
 How you are wanting to all good and pity, 
 And that you do but juggle with our sense ; 
 That you appear gentle and smooth as water, 
 When no wind breathes upon it, but indeed, 
 Are far more hard than rocks of adamant. 
 That you are more inconstant than your mistress' 
 Fortune, that guides you ; that your promises 
 Are all deceitful ; and that wanton love,
 
 220 THE ANTIQUARY. 
 
 Whom former ages, flattering their vice 
 And to procure more freedom for their sin, 
 Have term'd a god, laughs at your perjuries. 
 
 Luc. You will do this 1 why do so, ease your 
 mind, 
 So I be free from you. There's no such torment, 
 As to be troubled with an insolent lover 
 That will receive no answer : bonds and fetters, 
 Perpetual imprisonment, are not like it : 
 'Tis worse than to be seiz'd on with a fever, 
 A continual surfeit. For Heaven's sake, leave me ! 
 And let me hear no more of you. 
 
 Aw. Is this the best reward for all my hopes, 
 The dear expences of youth and service, 
 Spent in the execution of your follies 1 
 When not a day or hour but witness' d with me, 
 With what great study and affected care, 
 More than of fame or honour, I invented 
 New ways to fit your humour 1 what observance, 
 As if you were the arbitress of courtship, 
 I sought to please you with 1 laid out for fashions, 
 And bought them for you ? feasted you with 
 
 banquets ? 
 Read you asleep i' th' afternoon with pamphlets 1 
 Sent you elixirs and preservatives, 
 Paintings and powders, that would have restor'd 
 Old Niobe to youth 1 the beauty you pretend to 
 Is all my gift. Besides, I was so simple, 
 To wear your foolish colours, cry your wit up 
 And judgment, when you had none, and swore to it ; 
 Drank to your health, whole nights, in hippocras,* 
 Upon my knees, with more religion 
 Than e'er I said my prayers ; which Heaven for- 
 give me. 
 
 * A compound wine mixed with several kinds of spices ; 
 (Bloiuit's Glassographia) so called from Hippocrates, the Physi- 
 cian, whose invention it is alleged to have been.
 
 THE ANTIQUARY. 221 
 
 Luc. Are these such miracles 1 'Twas hut your 
 duty. 
 The tributary homage all men owe 
 Unto our sex. Should we enjoin you travel, 
 Or send you on an errand into France, 
 Only to fetch a basket of musk-melons, 
 It were a favour for you. Put the case 
 And that I were Hero and you were Leander : 
 If I should bid you swim the Hellespont, 
 Only to know my mind, methinks you might 
 Be proud of the employment. Were you a Puritan, 
 Did I command you wait me to a play, 
 Or to the church, though you had no religion, 
 You might not question it. 
 
 Aur. Pretty, very pretty ! 
 
 Luc. And then because I am familiar, 
 And deign, out of my nobleness and bounty, 
 To grace your weak endeavours with the title 
 Of courtesy, to wave my fan at you, 
 Or let you kiss my hand, must we straight marry % 
 I may esteem you in the rank of servants, 
 To cast off when I please, ne'er for a husband. 
 
 Aur. If ever devil damn'd in a woman's tongue, 
 'Tis in thine. I am glad yet you tell me this, 
 I might have else proceeded, and gone on 
 In the lewd * way of loving you, and so 
 Have wander'd farther from myself : but now 
 I'll study to be wiser, and henceforth 
 Hate the whole gang of you ; denounce a war, 
 Ne'er to be reconcil'd, and rejoice in it, 
 And count myself blessed for't, and wish all men 
 May do the like, to shun you. For my part, 
 If when my brains are troubled with late drinking, — 
 I shall have else the grace, sure, to forget you — 
 Then but my labouring fancy dream of you, 
 I'll start, affrighted at the vision. 
 
 P Ignorant.
 
 222 THE ANTIQUARY. 
 
 Luc. 'Las ! how pitifully it takes it to heart ! 
 It would be angry too, if it knew how. 
 
 Aur. Come near me, none of you ! if I hear 
 The sound of your approach I'll stop my ears ; 
 Nay I'll be angry, if I shall imagine 
 That any of you think of me : and, for thy sake, 
 If I but see the picture of a woman, 
 I'll hide my face, and break it. So, farewell ! 
 
 [Exit Lucretia, 
 
 Enter Lorenzo, Moccinigo, and Angelia. 
 
 Lor. What are you, friend, and what's your 
 business ? 
 
 Aur. Whate'er it be, now 'tis dispatch'd. 
 
 Lor. This is rudeness. 
 
 Aur. The fitter for the place and persons then. 
 
 Lor. How's that 1 
 
 Aur. You are a nest of savages, the house 
 Is more inhospitable than the quick sands. 
 Your daughter sits on that enchanted bay, 
 A Siren like, to entice passengers, 
 Who, viewing her through a false perspective, 
 Neglect the better traffic of their life ; 
 But yet, the more they labour to come near her, 
 The further she flies back ; until at last, 
 When she has brought them to some rock or shelf, 
 She proudly looks down on the wreck of lovers. 
 
 Lor. Why, who has injur'd you % 
 
 Aur. No matter who : 
 
 I'll first talk with a Sphinx ere converse with you. 
 
 Lor. A word. Expound vour wrongs more to 
 the full, 
 
 If you expect a remedy. 
 
 Aur. I'll rather 
 Seek out diseases, choose my death and pine, 
 Than stay to be cur'd by you. [Exit.
 
 THE ANTIQUARY. 223 
 
 Enter ^Emilia and Lucretia. 
 
 Lor. If you be so obstinate, 
 Take your course — Why, wife ^Emilia, 
 Daughter Lucretia — What's the matter here 
 With tbis same fellow ] do you owe him money I 
 
 Luc. Owe him money, sir] Does he look like 
 one 
 That should lend money 1 He is a gentleman, 
 And they seldom credit any body. 
 
 Lor. Well, Avife, 
 
 Where was your matron's Avisdom, that should 
 
 keep 
 A vigilant care upon your house and daughter, 
 And not have suffer'd her to be surpriz'd 
 With every loose aspect, and gazing eye, 
 That suck in hot and lustful motions ? 
 You Avere best turn bawd, and prostitute her 
 beauty. 
 
 jEm. You Avere best turn an old ass, 
 And meddle Avith your bonds and bi'okage. 
 
 Lor. What Avas his business 1 
 
 Luc. To tell you true, sir, he is one of those 
 Whom love and fortune have conspir'd to fool, 
 And make the subject of a woman's will. 
 His idle brain, being void of better reason, 
 Is fill'd Avith toys and humours ; and, for want 
 Of other exercise, he takes great pains 
 For the expressing of his folly : sometimes 
 With starts and sighs, hung head and folded arms, 
 Sonnets and pitiful tunes, forgetting 
 All due respect unto himself and friends, 
 With doating on a mistress : she again, 
 As little pitying him, whose every frown 
 Strikes him as dead as fate, and makes him A\ r alk 
 The living monument of his own sorroAV. 
 
 Lor. I apprehend, he came a Avooing to the e.
 
 224 THE ANTIQUARY. 
 
 'Tis so 1 and thou did'st scorn him, girl; 'twas well 
 
 done. 
 I'll ease thee of that care : see, I have brought 
 A husband to thy hand. Look on him well ! 
 A worthy man and a Clarissimo. 
 
 Luc. A husband, said you 1 Venus be propitious ! 
 He looks more like the remedy of love, 
 A julep to cool it. She that could take fire 
 At such a dull flame as his eyes, I should 
 Believe her more than touchwood ! 
 
 Aloe. A ravishing feature ! 
 If her condition answer but her feature, 
 I am fitted. Her form answers my affection ; 
 It arrides * me exceedingly ; I'll speak to her. 
 Fair mistress, what your father has propos'd 
 In the fair way of contract, I stand ready 
 To ratify ; and let me not seem less 
 In your esteem, because I am so easy 
 In my consent. Women love out of fancy, 
 Men from advise, f 
 
 Luc. You do not mean in earnest 1 
 Now, Cupid, deliver me ! 
 
 Moc. How ! not in earnest ? 
 As I am strong and mighty in desires, 
 You wrong me to question it. 
 
 Luc. Good sir ! consider 
 The infinite distance that is between us 
 In age and manners. 
 
 Moc. No distance at all : 
 My age is youthful, and your youth is aged. 
 
 Luc. But you are wise ; and will you sell your 
 freedom 
 Unto a female tyranny in despair 1 
 Ere to be quit, you run a strange adventure, 
 Without perceiving what a certain hazard 
 
 * Looks pleasantly to me. 
 
 + " Such discourse bring on 
 
 As may advise him of his happy state ; 
 
 Happiness in his power, made free to will." — Paradise Lost.
 
 THE ANTIQUARY. 225 
 
 A creature of my inclination 
 Is apt to draw you to. 
 
 Moc. I cannot think it. 
 
 Luc. Tis strange you'll not believe me, unless I 
 lay 
 My imperfection open. I have a nature 
 Ambitious beyond thought, quite giv'n over 
 To entertainments and expense : No bravery 
 That's fashionable can escape me ; and then, 
 Unless you are of a most settled temper, 
 Quiet without passion, I shall make you 
 Horn-mad with jealousy. 
 
 Moc. Come, come, I know 
 Thou'rt virtuous, and speakest this but to try me. 
 You will not be so adverse to your fortune, 
 And all obedience, to contradict 
 What your father has set down. 
 
 Luc. These are my faults 
 
 I cannot help, if you will be so good 
 As to dispense with them. 
 
 Moc. With all my heart ! I forgive thee before 
 thou offend'st. 
 
 Luc. Then I am mighty stubborn and self-will'd, 
 And shall sometimes e'en long to abuse you : 
 And for my tongue, 'tis like a stone thrown down 
 Of an impetuous motion not to be still'd. 
 
 Moc. All these cannot dismay me; for considering 
 How they are passions proper to your sex, 
 In a degree they are virtues. 
 
 Luc. Oh my fate ! 
 
 He will not be terrified. Then, not to feed you 
 With further hopes, or pump for more excuses, 
 Take it in brief, though I am loth to speak, 
 But you compel me to it, — I cannot love you. 
 
 Lor. How do you speed, sir 1 Is she tractable 1 
 Do you approve of .her rejdies 1 
 
 Moc. I know not ;
 
 226 THE ANTIQUARY. 
 
 Guess you ; she said she cannot love me 1 and 'tis 
 The least thing I should have mistrusted. I durst 
 Have sworn she would ne'er have made scruple 
 on't. 
 
 Lor. Not love you 1 Come she must and shall. 
 Do you hear, housewife ? 
 No more of this, as you affect my friendship. 
 What, shall I bring here a right worshipful Praetor 
 Unto my house, in hope you will be rul'd, 
 And you prove recreant to my commands 1 
 By my vex'd soul ! thou hast done a deed were 
 
 able 
 In the mere questioning of what I bid, 
 Were not I a pious and indulgent father, 
 To thrust thee, as a stranger, from my blood. 
 
 Moc. Be not too rash, sir ! women are not won 
 With force, but fair entreaty. Have I been vers'd 
 Thus long i' th' school of love ; know all their arts, 
 Their practices, their ways, and subtleties, 
 In all my encounters still return'd a victor, 
 And have not left a stratagem at .last 
 To work on her affection 1 let me suffer. 
 
 Lor. Nay, and you have that confidence, I'll 
 leave you. 
 
 Moc. Lady, a word in private with you. 
 
 \WTiispw. 
 
 JEm. Pray, sweetheart, 
 What pretty youth is that '? 
 
 Lor. Who, this same chicken] 
 He is the son of a great nobleman, 
 And my especial friend. His father's gone 
 Into the country to survey his lands, 
 And let new leases, and left him in charge 
 With me till his return. 
 
 /Em. Now, as I live ! 
 'Tis a well-favour'd lad, and his years promise 
 He should have an ability to do,
 
 THE ANTIQUARY; 227 
 
 And wit to conceal. When I take him single, 
 I'll try bis disposition. [Aside, 
 
 Moc. This, for your sake, 
 
 I'll undertake and execute. 
 
 Luc. For my sake 1 
 
 You shall not draw me to the fellowship 
 Of such a sin. 
 
 Moc. I know 'tis pleasing to thee, 
 And therefore am resolv'd. 
 
 Luc. I may prevent you. 
 
 Lor. What ! are you resolv'd '] 
 
 Moc. We are e'en at a point, sir. 
 
 Lor. What's more to be done, let's in and con- 
 sider. [Exeunt. 
 
 Enter Antiquary and Petro. 
 
 Ant. Well, sirrah ! But tbat I have brought you 
 up, I would cashier you for these reproofs. 
 
 Pet. Good sir, consider, 'tis no benefit to me ; he 
 is your nephew that I speak for, and 'tis charity to 
 relieve him. 
 
 Ant. He is a young knave, and that's crime 
 enough : an he were old in any thing, though 
 'twere in iniquity, there were some reverence to be 
 had of him. 
 
 Pet. Why, sir, though be a young knave, as you 
 term him, yet he is your kinsman, and in distress too. 
 
 Ant. Why, sir, and you know again, that 'tis an' 
 old custom,- — which thing I will no way transgress 
 — for a rich man not to look upon any his kins- 
 man in distress. 
 
 Pet. "lis an ill custom, sir, and 'twere good 
 'twere repeal'd. 
 
 Ant. I have something else to look after. Have 
 you dispos'd of those relics, as I bade you % 
 
 Pet. Yes, sir. 
 
 Ant. Well, thou dost not know the estimation of
 
 228 THE ANTIQUARY. 
 
 what thou hast in keeping. The whole Indies, 
 seeing they are but newly discover'd, are not to he 
 valued with them : the very dust that cleaves to 
 one of those monuments, is more worth than the 
 ore of twenty mines ! 
 
 Pet. Yet, by your favour, sir, of what use can 
 they be to you 1 
 
 Ant. What use ! Did not the Seigniory build a 
 state-chamber for antiquities 1 and 'tis the best 
 thing that e'er they did : they are the registers, the 
 chronicles of the age they were made in, and 
 speak the truth of history better than a hundred 
 of your printed commentaries. 
 
 Pet. Yet few are of your belief. 
 
 Ant. There's a box of coins within, most of them 
 brass, yet each of them a jewel, miraculously pre- 
 serv'd in spite of time or envy : and are of that 
 rarity and excellence, that saints may go a pilgrim- 
 age to them, and not be ashamed. 
 
 Pet. Yet, I say still, what good can they do to 
 you, more than to look on 1 
 
 Ant. "What good, thou brute ] An thou 
 wer't not worth a penny, the very shewing of them 
 were able to maintain thee. Let me see now, an 
 you were put to it, how you could advance your 
 voice in their commendation. Begin ! 
 
 Pet. All you gentlemen, that are affected with 
 rarities, such, the world cannot produce the like, 
 snatch'd from the jaws of time, and wonderfully 
 collected by a studious antiquary, come near and 
 admire ! 
 
 Ant. Thou say'st right: the limbs of Hippolitus 
 were never so dispers'd. 
 
 Pet. First, those twelve pictures that you see 
 there are the portraitures of the Sibyls, drawn five 
 hundred years since, by Titianus of Padua, an ex- 
 cellent painter and statuary.
 
 THE ANTIQUARY. 229 
 
 Ant. Very well. 
 
 Pet. Then here is Venus all naked, and Cupid 
 by her, on a dolphin : both these were drawn by 
 Apelles of Greece. 
 
 Ant. Proceed ! 
 
 Ped. Then here is Hercules and Antaeus ; and 
 that Pallas at length, in alabaster, with her helmet 
 and feathers, and that's Jupiter, with an eagle at 
 his back. 
 
 Ant. Exceeding well ! 
 
 Pet. Then, there's the great silver box that Nero 
 kept his beard in. 
 
 Ant. Good again ! 
 
 Pet. And after decking it with precious stones 
 did conseci'ate it to the Capitol. 
 
 Ant. That's right ! 
 
 Pet. And there hangs the net that held Mars 
 and his mistress, while the whole bench of bawdy 
 deities stood spectators of their sport. 
 
 Ant. Admirable good ! 
 
 Pet. Then, here is Marius to the middle, and 
 there Cleopatra with a veil over her face ; and 
 next to her, Marcus Antonius, the Triumvir ; then, 
 he with half a nose is Corvinus, and he with ne'er 
 a one is Galba.* 
 
 Ant. Very sufficient ! 
 
 Pet. Then, here is Vitellius, and there Titus and 
 Vespasian : these three were made by Jacobus 
 Sansovinus, the Florentine. 
 
 Ant. 'Tis enough ! 
 
 Pet. Last of all, this is the urn that did contain 
 the ashes of the emperors. 
 
 Ant. And each of these worth a King's ran- 
 som 
 
 * Et Curios jam diraidios, nasumque minorem corvini, et 
 Galbam auriculis nasoque careutem ? — Juvenal Sat. 8.
 
 230 THE ANTIQUARY. 
 
 Enter Duke and Leonardo. 
 
 Duke. Save you, sir ! 
 
 Ant. You are welcome, gentlemen. 
 
 Duke. I come, sir, a suitor to you. I hear you 
 are possess'd of many various and excellent an- 
 tiquities ; and though I am a stranger, I would 
 entreat your gentleness a favour. 
 
 Ant. What's that, sir? 
 
 Duke. Only that you would vouchsafe me to he 
 a spectator of their curiosity and worth ; which 
 courtesy shall engage me yours for ever. 
 
 Ant. For their worth I will not promise : 'tis as 
 you please to esteem of them. 
 
 Leo. No douht, sir, we shall ascribe what dig- 
 nity belongs to them, and to you their preserver. 
 
 Ant. You speak nobly ! and thus much let me 
 tell you, to your edifying : the foolish doating on 
 these present novelties is the cause why so many 
 rare inventions have already perish'd ; and, which 
 is pity, antiquity has not left so much as a footstep 
 behind her, more than of her vices. 
 
 Leo. 'Tis the more pity, sir. 
 
 Ant. Then, what raises such vanities amongst 
 us, and sets fantastical fancies a-work? What's 
 the reason that so many fresh tricks and new in- 
 ventions of fashions and diseases come daily over 
 sea and land, upon a man that never durst adven- 
 ture to taste salt water, but only the neglect of 
 those useful instructions which antiquity has set 
 down. 
 
 Duke. You speak oracles, sir. 
 
 Ant. Look farther, and tell me what you find 
 better, or more honourable than age. Is not wis- 
 dom entail'd upon it ? Take the pre-eminence of 
 it in every thing ; in an old friend, in old wine, 
 in an old pedigree.
 
 THE ANTIQUARY. 231 
 
 Leo. All this is certain. 
 
 Ant. I confess to you, gentlemen, I must rever- 
 ence and prefer the precedent times before these, 
 which consum'd their wits in experiments : and 
 'twas a virtuous emulation amongst them, that 
 nothing which should profit posterity should 
 perish. 
 
 Leo. It argued a good fatherly providence. 
 
 Ant. It did so. There was Lysippus, that spent 
 his whole life in the lineaments of one picture, 
 which I will shew you anon : then was there 
 Eudoxus the philosopher, who grew old in the 
 top of a mountain, to contemplate astronomy ; 
 whose manuscript I have also by me. 
 
 Duke. Have you so, sir 1 
 
 Ant. I have that, and many more ; yet see the 
 preposterous desires of men in these days, that 
 account better of a mass of gold than whatever 
 Apelles or Phidias have invented ! 
 
 Duke. That is their ignorance. 
 
 Ant. Well, gentlemen, because I perceive you 
 are ingenious, I would entreat you to walk in, 
 where I will demonstrate all, and proceed in my 
 admonition. [Exeunt. 
 
 Enter Aurelio and Lionell. 
 
 Lio. 'Tis well, sir : I am glad you are so soon 
 got free from your bondage. 
 
 Aur. Yes, I thank my stars, I am now my own 
 man again ; I have slept out my drunken fit of 
 love, and am recovered. You, that are my friends, 
 rejoice at my liberty. 
 
 Lio. Why, was it painful to you ? 
 
 Aur. More tedious than a siege. I wonder 
 what black leaf in the book of fate has decreed 
 that misery upon man, to be in love ; it trans- 
 forms him to a worse monster than e'er Calypso's
 
 232 THE ANTIQUARY. 
 
 cup did : a country gentleman among courtiers, 
 or their wives among the ladies, a clown among 
 citizens, nay an ass among apes, is not half so 
 ridiculous as that makes us. Oh ! that I could 
 but come by it, how I would tear it, that never 
 such a witched passion should arise in any human 
 breast again. 
 
 Lio. You are too violent in your hate : you should 
 never so fall out with a friend, as to admit no hope 
 of reconcilement. 
 
 Aur. I'll first be at peace with a serpent. Mark 
 me ! if thou hast care of thy time, thy health, thy 
 fame, or thy wits, avoid it. 
 
 Lio. I must confess, I have been a little vain 
 that way, yet never so transported, but when I saw 
 a handsomer in place I could leave the former, 
 and cleave to the latter. I was ever constant to 
 beauty. 
 
 Aur. Hold thee there still ! and if there be a ne- 
 cessity at any time that thou must be mad, let it 
 be a short fury and away : let not this paltry love 
 hang too long upon the file, be- not deluded with 
 delays ; for if these she-creatures have once the 
 predominance, there shall be no way to torture 
 thee, but they'll find it out and inflict it without 
 mercy : they'll work on thy disposition, and if thou 
 hast any good-nature they'll be sure to abuse thee 
 extremely. 
 
 Lio. Speak you this in earnest 1 
 
 Aur. I know not what you call earnest, but 
 before I'll endure that life again, I'll bind myself 
 to a carrier, look out any employment whatever, 
 spend my hours in seeing motions and puppet- 
 plays, rook at bowling-alleys, mould tales and 
 vent them at ordinaries, carry begging epistles, 
 walk upon projects, transcribe fiddlers' ditties. 
 
 Lio. Oh, monstrous !
 
 
 THE ANTIQUARY. 233 
 
 Aw. But since I have tasted the sweetness of 
 my freedom, thou dost not know what quickness 
 and agility is infused into me. I feel not that 
 weight was wont to clog me where'er I went ; 1 
 am all fire and spirit, as if I had been stript of my 
 mortality. 1 hear not my thoughts whisper to me, 
 as they were wont — Such a man is your rival ; 
 There's an affront, call him to an account ; Redeem 
 your mistress' favour ; Present her with such a gift ; 
 Wait her at such a place ; — none of these vanities. 
 
 Lio. You are happy, sir. 
 
 Enter Duke, Petro, and Leonardo. 
 
 Pet. Come, gentles, follow me, I'll bring you to 
 them : look you where they are ! 
 
 Duke. Signior Lionell, I have trac'd much ground 
 to inquire for you. 
 
 Lio. I rest engag'd to you for your last night's 
 love, sir. 
 
 Duke. And I for your good company. Did you 
 ever see such a blind ruinous tippling-house, as we 
 made shift to find out 1 
 
 Leo. Ay, and the people were as wretched in it : 
 what a mist of tobacco flew amongst them ! 
 
 Lio. And what a deluge of rheum ! 
 
 Pet. If the house be so old as you speak of, 
 'twere good you brought my master into it, and 
 then throw 't a-top of him ; he would never 
 desire to be better buried. 
 
 Duke. Well said, Petro. 
 
 Lio. Sir, if it be no trouble to you, I would 
 entreat you know my worthy friend here. 
 
 Duke. You shall make me happy in any worthy 
 acquaintance. 
 
 Pet. Well, Signior Lionell, you are beholden to 
 these gentlemen for their good words unto your 
 uncle for you : they spoke in your behalf, as 
 earnestly as e'er did lawyer for his client.
 
 234 THE ANTIQUARY. 
 
 Lio. And what was the issue 1 
 
 Pet. He is hide-bound, he will part with nothing. 
 There is an old rivell'd* purse hangs at his side, has 
 not been loos'd .these twenty years, and, I think, 
 will so continue. 
 
 Lio. Why, will his charity stretch to nothing, 
 Petro 1 
 
 Pet. Yes, he has sent you something. 
 
 Lio. What is't 1 
 
 Pet. A piece of antiquity, sir ; 'tis English 
 coin ; and if you will needs know, 'tis an old 
 Harry groat, f 
 
 Lio. Thank him heartily. 
 
 Pet. And 'tis the first, he says, that e'er was made 
 of them ; and, in his esteem, is worth three double 
 ducats newly stampt. 
 
 Lio. His folly may put what price he please upon 
 it, but to me 'tis no more than the value, Petro. 
 
 Pet. He says, moreover, that it may stand you 
 in some use and pleasure hereafter, when you grow 
 ancient ; for it is worn so thin with often handling, 
 it may serve you for a spectacle. 
 
 Lio. Very well. 
 
 Duke. 'Twere a good deed to conspire against 
 him; he has a humour easy to be wrought on, and, 
 if you'll undertake him, we'll assist you in the 
 performance. 
 
 Lio. With all my heart, gentlemen, and I thank 
 you. 
 
 Duke. Let us defer it no longer then, but in- 
 stantly about it. 
 
 Lio. A match ! Lead on ; good wit and fortune 
 guide us. [Exeunt. 
 
 * Wrinkled. 
 
 + The groats coined in the reign of Henry the Eighth, are 
 the old Harry groat, which bears the head of the King with a 
 long face and long hair ; the gun-hole groat ; the first and 
 second gun-stone groat, kc. — Heidi's Treatise on Coins.
 
 THE ANTIQUARY. 235 
 
 A.ct III. Scene I. 
 Enter Bravo and Boy. 
 
 Bra. Boy, how sits my rapier 1 
 
 Boy. Close, sir, like a friend that meant to stick 
 to you. 
 
 Bra. He that will purchase honour, and the name 
 of Bravo, must, by consequence, be a brave fellow; 
 his title requires it. 
 
 Boy. But pray, sir, were you never put to the 
 worst in your days ] 
 
 Bra. Who, I worsted? no, boy; I do manage 
 my rapier with as much steadiness and facility, as 
 a vincor * does his antler. 
 
 Boy. Sure you must needs be very strong then. 
 
 Bra. Not so, neither; 'tis courage in me. I do it v 
 by a sleight, an activity, and by that I can controul 
 any man's point whatsoever. 
 
 Boy. Is it possible 1 
 
 Bra. I tell thee, boy, I do as much surpass Her- 
 cules at my rapier, as he did me in club-fighting.t 
 Have you drawn a register of those men that have 
 been forc'd by this weak instrument to lay down 
 their lives 1 I think it has cut more lives than 
 Atropos. 
 
 Boy. But pray, sir, were they all your own 
 exploits 1 
 
 Bra. Indeed, boy, thou may'st question it ; for, 
 an they were to perform again, they would hardly 
 be done. What will this age come to ? Where be 
 those stirring humours that were wont to trouble 
 the world 1 Peace, I think, will o'erspread them all 
 like a gangrene, and men will die with a lethargy : 
 there's no malice extant, no jealousies, no employ - 
 
 * Presumed to be " unicorn." 
 
 + " I do excel Sampson in my rapier, as much as he did 
 me in carrying gates." — Loves Ldbov.fr Lost.
 
 236 THE ANTIQUARY. 
 
 ment to set wickedness a-work ! 'tis never a dead 
 time with me, but when there's nobody to kill. 
 
 Boy. That's a miserable extremity indeed, sir. 
 
 Bra. Leave me, boy, to my meditations ! 
 
 [Exit Boy. 
 
 Enter MocciNiGO. 
 
 Well go thy ways, old Nick Machivel, there will 
 never be the peer of thee for wholesome policy and 
 good counsel. Thou took'st pains to chalk men 
 out the dark paths and hidden plots of murther and 
 deceit, and no man has the grace to follow thee : 
 the age is unthankful, thy principles are quite for- 
 saken, and worn out of memory. 
 
 Moc. There's a fellow walks melancholy, and 
 that's commonly a passion apt to entertain any 
 mischief; discontent and honesty seldom harbour 
 together. How scurvily he looks, like one of the 
 devil's factors ! I'll tempt him. — By your leave, sir. 
 
 Bra. Ha? 
 
 Moc. No hurt, good sir ; be not so furious, I 
 beseech you. 
 
 Bra. What are you 1 
 
 Bloc. I am bold to disturb you, and would fain 
 communicate a business, if you had the patience to 
 hear me. 
 
 Bra. Speak, what is't ] 
 
 Moc. You seem a man upon whom fortune, per- 
 haps, has not cast so favourable an aspect as you 
 deserve. 
 
 Bra. Can you win her to look better ] 
 
 Moc. Though not her, yet, perhaps a servant of 
 hers, that shall be as gracious to you, and as profit- 
 able. 
 
 Bra, What's she 1 
 
 Moc. It may be, you want money : there is a way 
 to purchase it, if you have the heart.
 
 THE ANTIQUARY. 237 
 
 Bra. The heart ? Hast thou the heart to speak, 
 nay to conceive what I dare not undertake ? 
 
 Moc. A fit instrument for my purpose ! How 
 luckily has fortune brought me to him. — Do you 
 hear, sir, 'tis but the slight killing of a man, or so ; 
 no more. 
 
 Bra. Is that all ? 
 
 Moc. Is that nothing ? 
 
 Bra. Some queasy stomach might turn, perhaps, 
 at such a motion ; but I am more resolv'd, better 
 harden'd. What is he? For I have my several 
 ■ rates, salaries for blood : for a lord, so much ; for 
 a knight, so much ; a gentleman, so much ; a 
 peasant, so much ; a stranger, so much ; and a 
 native, so much. 
 
 Moc. Nay, he is a gentleman, and a citizen of 
 Venice. 
 
 Bra. Let him be what he will, and we can agree : 
 it has been a foolish ambition heretofore, to save 
 them, and men were rewarded for it with garlands;* 
 but I had rather destroy one or two of them, they 
 multiply too fast. 
 
 Moc. Do you know one Signior Aurelio then? 
 He is the man ! he woo'd my mistress, and sought 
 to win her from me. 
 
 Bra. A warrantable cause ! shew me the man, 
 and 'tis enough. 
 
 Moc. And what must I give you ? 
 
 Bra. At a word, thirty livres ; I'll not bate you a 
 betso.+ 
 
 Moc. I'll give you twenty. 
 
 * The Romans bestowed an oaken wreath on him who had 
 preserved the life of a citizen. The mother of Coriolanus, in 
 Shakespeare, boasts that he "return'd, his brows bound with 
 oak." — S. 
 
 + A coin of the least value current in Venice, of the value of 
 half a sol ; that is, scarcely a farthing. — See Con/aft Crudities, 
 1611, p. 286.
 
 238 THE ANTIQUARY. 
 
 Bra. You bid like a chapman. Well, 'tis a hard 
 time ; in hope of your custom hereafter, I'll take 
 your money. 
 
 Moc. There 'tis. Now for the means ; how can 
 you compass it 1 Were you not best poison him, 
 think you 1 
 
 Bra. With a bullet or stiletto ; poison him 1 I 
 scorn to do things so poorly. No, I'll use valour in 
 my villainy, or I'll do nothing. 
 
 Moc. You speak honourably ; and, now I think 
 on't, what if you beat him wellfavour'dly, and 
 spared his life ? 
 
 Bra. Beat him 1 stay there ; I'll kill him for this 
 sum, but I'll not beat him for thrice the value ; so 
 he might do as much for me : no, I'll leave him 
 impotent for all thought of revenge. 
 
 Enter Lucretia. 
 
 Moc. Well, sir, use your pleasure. Look you, 
 here's the gentlewoman for whose sake it is done. — 
 Lady, you are come most opportunely, to be a wit- 
 ness of my love and zeal to you ; he is the man 
 that will do the feat. 
 
 Luc. What feat ] 
 
 Moc. That you and I consulted of; kill the ras- 
 cal Aurelio! take him out of the way. What should 
 he live any longer for 1 I'll have no man breathe 
 that you disgust. 
 
 Luc. Then ought you to go and hang yourself. 
 
 Moc. Who 1 I hang myself ! for what 1 my good 
 service, and respect to your quiet 1 If he have any 
 mind to haunt your chamber hereafter, he shall do 
 it as a ghost, without any substantial shape, I as- 
 sure you. 
 
 Lac. I think the fool be in earnest : I must use 
 policy, and not play away a man's life so. 
 
 [Aside.
 
 THE ANTIQUARY. 239 
 
 Nay, prythee, sweatheart, be not angry, 'twas but 
 to try thee. This kiss, and my love 
 
 Moc. Why, here's some amends yet ! now 'tis 
 as it should be. 
 
 Luc. I am as deep and eager in this purpose 
 As you are, therefore grant me leave, a little, 
 To talk with him. I have some private counsel 
 To give him, for the better execution. 
 
 Moc. May I not hear I 
 
 Luc. No, as you love me, go ! 
 
 Moc. Her humour must be law. We that are 
 suitors 
 Must deal with women as with towns besieg-'d : 
 Offer them fair conditions, till you get them. 
 And then we'll tyrannize. Yet there's a doubt 
 Is not resolv'd on. 
 
 Luc. Good sir, begone ! 
 
 Moc. I vanish ! Were I best trust this fellow 
 with my mistress '] 
 Temptations may rise : 'tis all one, I am 
 A right Italian, and the world shall see 
 That my revenge is above jealousy. [Exit. 
 
 Bra. Now, lady, your pleasure? 
 
 Luc. I would not allow myself any conference 
 with you, did my reason persuade me that you 
 were as bad as you seem to be. Pray, what are 
 you 1 
 
 Bra. I am, sweet creature, a kind of lawless jus- 
 ticer, or usurping martialist of authority, that will 
 kill any man with my safety. 
 
 Luc. And you purpose the death of this gentle- 
 man 1 
 
 Bra. I will do anything for hire. 
 
 Luc. Have you no conscience 1 
 
 Bra. Conscience ! I know not what it is. Why 
 should any man live, and I want money 1 
 
 Luc. Have you no regard then of innocence %
 
 240 THE ANTIQUARY. 
 
 Bra. 'Tis crime enough he has a life. 
 
 Luc. How long have you been vers'd in this 
 trade ? 
 
 Bra. 'Tis my vocation, 
 
 Luc. Leave it ! 'tis damnable ; 
 And thou the worst and basest of all villains. 
 It had been better for the womb that bare thee, 
 If it had travail'd with a pestilence. 
 What seed of tigers could beget thee to 
 Such bold and rash attempts 1 for a small lucre, 
 Which will be straight as ill spent as 'twas got, 
 To destroy that, whose essence is divine ; 
 Souls, in themselves more pure than are -the 
 
 heavens, 
 Or thy ill-boding stars ; more worth than all 
 The treasure lock'd up in the heart of earth : 
 And yet do this unmov'd or unprovok'd. 
 
 Bra. I have no other means, nor way of living. 
 
 Luc. 'Twere better perish, than be so supported ; 
 There are a thousand courses to subsist by. 
 
 Bra. Ay, but a free and daring spirit scorns 
 To stoop to servile ways, but will choose rather 
 To purchase his revenue from his sword. 
 
 Luc. I see you are growing obdurate in your 
 crimes, 
 Founded to vice, lost to all piety ; 
 Without the apprehension of what wrong 
 You do your country, in depriving her 
 Of those she now enjoys, as useful members ; 
 And killing their posterity, who, perhaps, 
 Might, with their art or industry, advance her. 
 
 Bra. What courteous itch, I wonder, has pos- 
 sest 
 Your virtuous ladyship to give me advice ? 
 Best keep your wits until you get a husband, 
 Who may, perhaps, require your learned counsel. 
 
 Luc. 'Tis true, such as do act thy villanies
 
 THE ANTIQUARY. 2i\ 
 
 Hate to be told, or think of them ; but hear me ! 
 Hast thou no sense, nor no remorse of soul I 
 No thought of any Deity, who, though 
 It spare thee for a while, will send at last 
 A quick return of vengeance on thy head, 
 And dart thee down like Phaeton ] 
 
 Bra. Sweet virgin, 
 Faces about * to some other discourse, 
 I cannot relish this. 
 
 Luc. So I believe ; but yet 
 Compose your thoughts for speedy penitence, 
 Your life for an amendment, or, I vow 
 To lay your actions open to the Senate. 
 
 Bra. Did not your sweetheart tempt me to this 
 deed, 
 And will you now betray me 1 
 
 Luc. He, my sweetheart 1 
 I hate you both alike : that very word 
 Is enough to divorce thee from my pity 
 Past hope of reconcilement ; for what mercy 
 Is to be had of two such prodigies 1 
 Will you recant yet 1 Speak ! will you be honest I 
 Bra. I think you'll force me to become your 
 
 patient. 
 Luc. It is the way to heal thee of a sore, 
 Whose cure is supernatural. What ai*t, 
 What mirror is sufficient to demonstrate 
 The foulness of thy guilt, whose leprous mind 
 Is but one stain seas cannot cleanse 1 Why, murder ! 
 'Tis of all vices the most contrary 
 To every virtue and humanity ; 
 For they intend the pleasure and delight, 
 But this the dissolution, of nature. 
 
 * " Double your files ; as you were ; faces about !'' — Beaumont 
 and Fletcher. 
 
 " I have read divine Seneca ; thou know'st nothing- but tho 
 earthly part, and can'st cry to that, 'faces about.'" — Parsons 
 Wedding. 
 
 Q
 
 242 THE ANTIQUARY. 
 
 Bra. She does begin to move me. 
 
 Luc. Think of thy sin ! 
 It is the heir apparent unto hell ; 
 And has so many, and so ugly shapes, 
 His father Pluto, and the Furies hate 
 To look on their own birth : yet thou dar'st act 
 What they fear to suggest, and sell thy soul 
 To quick perdition. 
 
 Bra. This has wak'd me more 
 Into a quicker insight of my evils, 
 That have impal'd me round with horrid shapes, 
 More various than the sev'ral forms of dreams 
 That wait on Morpheus in his sleepy den. 
 
 Luc. Then, 'tis a fearful sin, and always labours 
 With the new birth of damn'd inventions 
 And horrid practices ; for 'tis so fearful, 
 It dares not walk alone, and, where it bides, 
 There is no rest, nor no security, 
 But a perpetual tempest of despair. 
 
 Bra. All this I feel by sad experience. 
 Where have I been, where have I liv'd a stranger, 
 Exil'd from all good thoughts 1 Never till now 
 Did any beam of grace or good shine on me. 
 
 L,uc. Besides, 'tis so abhorr'd of all that's good, 
 That when this monster lifts his cursed head 
 Above the earth, and wraps it in the clouds, 
 The sun flies back, as loth to stain his rays 
 With such a foul pollution ; and night, 
 In emulation of so black a deed, 
 Puts on her darkest robe to cover it. 
 
 Bra. Oh, do not grate too much upon my 
 suff 'rings ! 
 You have won upon my conscience, and I feel 
 A sting within me tells my troubled soul, 
 That I have trod too long those bloody paths 
 That lead unto destruction. 
 
 Luc. Then be sorry, 
 And with repentance purge away thy sin.
 
 THE ANTIQUARY. 243 
 
 Bra. Will all my days and hours consum'd in 
 prayers, 
 My eyes dissolve! to tears, wash off such crimes 1 
 
 Luc. If they be serious, and continued. 
 
 Bra. You are a virgin, and your vows are chaste, 
 Do you assist me. 
 
 Luc. So you'll do the like ' 
 
 For me in what I shall propose. 
 
 Bra. I will, 
 
 And joy to be employ' d : there's no thought, 
 Which can proceed from you, but which is 
 
 virtuous ; 
 And 'tis a comfort, and a kind of goodness, 
 To mix with you in any action. 
 
 Luc. Nay, more, in recompence of your fair proffer, 
 Because you say you are destitute of means, 
 I'll see that want supplied. 
 
 Bra. Divinest lady, 
 
 Command my service. 
 
 Luc. Walk then in with me ! 
 And then I will acquaint you with the project. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Enter Duke, Lionell, and Leonardo, Petrutio 
 
 following. 
 
 Duke. I see him coming ! let's fall into admira- 
 tion of his good parts, that he may over-hear hi > 
 own praise. 
 
 Lio. I have, methinks, a longing desire to meet 
 with Signior Petrutio. 
 
 Pet. I hear myself nam'd amongst them. 'Tis 
 no point of civility to listen what opinion the 
 world holds of me, I shall conceive it by their dis- 
 course : a man behind his back shall be sure to 
 have nothing but truth spoke of him. 
 
 Leo. Pray, sir, when saw you that thrice noble 
 and accomplish'd gentleman, Petrutio ?
 
 244 THE ANTIQUARY. 
 
 Pet. Thrice noble and accomplish' d ! There's a 
 new style thrust upon me. 
 
 Duke. It pleas'd the indulgency of my fate to 
 bless me with his company this morning, where he 
 himself was no less favourable to grace me with the 
 perusal of a madrigal, or an essay of beauty, which 
 he had then newly compos'd. 
 
 Lio. Well, gallants, either my understanding mis- 
 informs me, or he is one of the most rare and noble- 
 qualified pieces of gentility, that ever did enrich 
 our climate. 
 
 Leo. Believe it, sir, 'twere a kind of profanation 
 to make doubt of the contrary. 
 
 Pet. How happy am I in such acquaintance ! A 
 man shall have his due, when your meaner society 
 has neither judgment to discern worth, nor credit 
 to commend it. 
 
 Duke. 'Twas my happiness, th' other day, to be 
 in the presence with certain ladies, where I heard 
 him the most extoll'd and approv'd : one of them 
 was not asham'd to pronounce it openly, that she 
 would never desire more of heaven than to enjoy 
 such a man for her servant. 
 
 Pet. It shall be my next employment to enquire 
 out for that lady. 
 
 Lio. 'Tis a miracle to me, how, in so small a 
 competency of time, he should arrive to such an ab- 
 solute plenitude of perfection. 
 
 Leo. No wonder at all ; a man that has travell'd, 
 and been careful of his time. 
 
 Lio. But, by your favour, sir, 'tis not every man's 
 happiness to make so good use on't. 
 
 Duke. I'll resolve you something : there is as 
 great a mystery in the acquisition of knowledge as 
 of wealth. Have you not a citizen will grow rich in 
 a moment, and why not be ingenious '] Besides, who 
 knows but he might have digged for it, and so
 
 THE ANTIQUARY. 24-"> 
 
 found out some conceal'd treasure of understanding. 
 
 Pet. Now, as I am truly noble, 'tis a wrongful 
 imputation upon me. 
 
 Leo. Well, if he had but bounty annex'd to his 
 other sufficiencies, he were unparallel'd. 
 
 Duke. Nay, there's no man in the earth more 
 liberal : take it upon my word, he has not that 
 thing in the world so dear or precious in his esteem 
 which he will not most willingly part with upon 
 the least summons of his friend. 
 
 Pet. Now must I give away some two or three, 
 hundred pounds worth of toys, to maintain this 
 assertion. 
 
 Lio. You spoke of verses e'en now ; if you have 
 the copy, pray vouchsafe us a sight of them. 
 
 Duke. I cannot suddenly resolve you. Yes, here 
 they are ! 
 
 Lio. What's this 1 
 
 A Madrigal of Beauty. 
 
 If I should praise her virtue and her beauty. 
 
 as 'tis my duty ; 
 And tell how every grace doth her become : 
 
 'tis ten to one 
 But I should fail in the expression. 
 Leo. Ay, marry, sir ! this sounds something like 
 
 excellent. 
 Lio. Then, by your leave, 
 
 Although I cannot write what I conceive ; 
 
 'tis my desire, 
 That what I fail to speak you would admire. 
 Leo. Why, this has some taste in't : how should 
 he arrive to this admirable invention 1 
 
 Duke. Are you so preposterous in your opinion 
 to think that wit and elegancy in writing are 
 only confin'd to stagers and book-worms 1 'Twere 
 a solecism to imagine, that a young bravery, who
 
 2 ±6 THE ANTIQUARY. 
 
 lives in the perpetual sphere of humanity, where 
 every waiting-woman speaks perfect Arcadia, and 
 the ladies' lips distil with the very quintessence 
 <>f conceit, should be so barren of apprehension 
 as not to participate of their virtues. 
 
 Leo. Now, I consider, they are great helps to a 
 man. 
 
 Duke. But when he lias travell'd, and delibated * 
 the French and the Spanish ; can lie a-bed, and 
 expound Astrsea,! and digest him into compliments ; 
 and, when he is up, accost his mistress with what 
 lie had read in the morning ; now if such a one 
 should rack up his imagination, and give wings to 
 his muse, 'tis credible he should more catch your 
 delicate court-ear, than all your head-scratchers, 
 thumb-biters, lamp-wasters of them all. 
 
 Leo. "Well, I saj r the iniquity of fortune appears 
 in nothing more than not advancing that man to 
 some extraordinary honours. 
 
 Lio. But I never thought he had any genius 
 that way. 
 
 Duke. What, because he has been backward to 
 produce his good qualities ] Believe it, poetry 
 will out ; it can no more be hid than fire or love. 
 
 Pet. I'll break them off, they have e'en spoken 
 enough in my behalf for nothing, o'conscience.— 
 Save you, Cavalieros ! 
 
 Duke. My much honour'd Petrutio, you are 
 welcome ; we were now enter'd into a discourse of 
 your worth. ^Yhither do your occasions enforce 
 you so fast ? 
 
 Pet. Gentlemen, to tell you Jyue, I am going 
 n I ion some raptures. 
 
 Leo. Upon raptures, say you 1 
 
 Pit. Yes, my employment is tripartite : I have 
 
 * Had a taste of. 
 
 + A French Romance, popular during the last century.
 
 THE ANTIQUARY. 247 
 
 here an anagram to a lady I made of her name 
 this morning ; with a posy to another, that must 
 be inserted into a ring ; and here's a paper carries 
 a secret word too that must be given and worn 
 by a knight and tilter ; and all my own imagina- 
 tions, as I hope to be bless'd. 
 
 Lio. Is't possible ? how, have you lately drunk 
 of the horse-pond,* or stept on the forked Parnassus, 
 that you start out so sudden a poet 1 
 
 Pet. Tut ! I leave your Helicons, and your pale 
 Pirenes,t to such as will look after them ; for my 
 own part, I follow the instigation of my brain, and 
 scorn other helps. 
 
 Lio. Do you so 1 
 
 Pet. I'll justify it, the multiplicity of learning 
 does but distract a man. I am all for your modern 
 humours, and, Avhen I list to express a passion, it 
 Hows from me with that spring of amorous conceits, 
 that a true lover may hang his head over, and read 
 in it the very phys'nomy of his affection. 
 
 Duke. Why, this is a rare mirror ! 
 
 Leo. Tis so, indeed, and beyond all the art of 
 optics. 
 
 Pet. And when my head labours with the pangs 
 of delivery, by chance up comes a Countess's wait- 
 ing-woman, at whose sight, as at the remembrance 
 of a mistress, my pen falls out of my hand ; and 
 then do I read to her half a dozen lines, whereat 
 we both sit together, and melt into tears. 
 
 Leo. Pitiful- hearted, carted creatures ! 
 
 Pet. I am now about a device, that this gentle- 
 man has promis'd shall be presented before his 
 Highness. 
 
 Duke. Yes, upon my word, sir, and yourself with 
 it, 
 
 * Fonte labra prolui Caballino. Perms. S. 
 + Pallidamque Pyrenen. //,. A fountain in Mount Helicon, 
 made by the hoof of Pegasus.
 
 248 THE ANTIQUARY. 
 
 Pet. Shall the Duke take notice of me too ] Oh 
 Heavens, how you transport me with the thought 
 on't ! 
 
 Duke. I'll bring you to him, believe me j and you 
 know not what grace he may do you. 
 
 Pet. Tis a happiness beyond mortals ! I cannot 
 tell, it may be my good fortune to advance you all. 
 
 Lio. We shall be glad to have dependence on 
 you. 
 
 Pet. Gentles, I would entreat you a courtesy. 
 
 Duke. What's that, signior ] 
 
 Pet. That you would be all pleas'd to grace my 
 lodging to-morrow at a banquet : there will be 
 ladies and gallants ; and, among the rest, I'll send 
 to invite your uncle the Antiquary, and we'll be 
 very merry, I assure you. 
 
 Leo. Well, sir, your bounty commands us not to 
 fail you. 
 
 Pet. Bounty ! there's a memorandum for me. In 
 the meantime, pray accept these few favours at my 
 hands, as assurances that you will not fail me ; till 
 when, I take my leave. [Exit. 
 
 Lio. Farewell, sir ! Go thy ways ; thou hast as 
 dull a piece of scalp, as e'er covered the brain of any 
 traveller. 
 
 Duke. For love's sake, Lionell, let's haste to thy 
 uncle, before the coxcomb prevent us. 
 
 Lio. W by, sir, I stay for you. 
 
 Leo. Has Petro prepar'd him for your entrance 1 
 And is your disguise fit 1 
 
 Lio. I have all in a readiness. 
 
 Duke. On then ! and when you are warm in your 
 discourse, we'll come with our advice to affright 
 him : 'twill be an excellent scene of affliction. 
 
 Leo. Be sure you mark your cue, sir, and do not 
 fail to approach. 
 
 Duke. Trust to my care ! I warrant you. [Exeunt.
 
 THE ANTIQUARY. 249 
 
 Enter Aurelio and Servant. 
 
 Aur. A gentlewoman without speak with me, 
 say yon 1 
 
 Ser. Yes, sir, and will by no means be put back. 
 
 Aur. I am no lawyer, nor no secretary. What 
 business can she have here, I wonder 1 
 
 Ser. She is very importunate to enter. 
 
 Aur. I was once in the humour never to admit 
 any of them to come near me again, but since she 
 is so eager let her approach. I'll try my strength 
 what proof 'tis against her enchantments : if ever 
 Ulysses were more provident, or better arm'd to 
 sail by the Sirens, I'll perish ; if she have the art 
 to impose upon me, let her beg my wit for an ana- 
 tomy, and dissect it 
 
 Enter Lucretia. 
 
 Now, Lady Humour, Avhat new emotion in the 
 blood has turn'd the tide of your fancy to come 
 hither ? 
 
 Luc. These words are but unkind salutes to a 
 gentlewoman. 
 
 Aur. They are too good for you. With what 
 face dare you approach hither, knowing how in- 
 finitely you have abus'd me 1 You want matter 
 to exercise your wits on, the world's too wise for 
 you ; and ere you ensnare me again, you'll have 
 good luck. 
 
 Luc. Pray, sir, do not reiterate those things 
 which might better be forgotten. I confess I have 
 done ill, because I am a woman, and young, and 
 'twill be nobleness in you not to remember it. 
 
 Aur. I'll sooner plough up shore and sow it, 
 and live in expectation of a crop, before I'll think 
 the least good from any of your sex while I breathe 
 again.
 
 250 THE ANTIQUARY. 
 
 Luc. I hope, sir, that time and experience will 
 rectify your judgment to a better opinion of us. 
 
 Aw. I'll trust my ship to a storm, my substance 
 to a broken citizen, ere I'll credit any of you. 
 
 Luc. Good sir, be entreated. 1 come a penitent 
 lover, with a vow'd recantation to all former 
 practices and malicious endeavours that I have 
 wrought against you. 
 
 Aur. How can I think better of you, when I 
 consider your nature, your pride, your treachery, 
 your covetousness, your lust ; and how you com- 
 mit perjury easier than speak 1 
 
 Luc. Sure, 'tis no desert in us, but your own 
 misguided thoughts that move in you this passion. 
 
 Aur. Indeed, time was I thought you pretty 
 foolish things to play withal ; and was so blinded 
 as to imagine that your hairs were golden threads,* 
 that your eyes darted forth beams, that laughter 
 sate smiling on your lips, and the coral itself 
 look'd pale to them ; that you mov'd like a god- 
 dess, and diffus'd your pleasures wide as the air : 
 then could I preventt the rising sun to wait on you, 
 observed every nod you cast forth, had the patience 
 to hear your discourse, and admir'd you when you 
 talk'd of your visits, of the Court, of councils, of 
 nobility, and of your ancestors. 
 
 Luc And were not these pleasing to you 1 
 
 Aur. Nothing but a heap of tortures : but since 
 I have learn'd the Delphic Oracle, to know myself, 
 and ponder what a deal of mischief you work, I 
 am content to live private and solitary without 
 any pensive thought what you do, or what shall 
 become of you . 
 
 Luc. Sir, if you calculate all occasions, I have 
 not merited this neglect from you. 
 
 * Her hairs like golden threads, play'd with her breath.— 
 
 Shakespeare's Rape o/Lucretia. 
 
 + Anticipate.
 
 THE ANTIQUARY. 251 
 
 Aur. Yes, and more. Do you not remember 
 what tasks you were Avont to put me to, and ex- 
 penses 1 when I bestow'd on you gowns and petti- 
 coats, and you, in exchange, gave me bracelets and 
 shoe-ties, how you fool'd me sometimes, and set 
 me to pin plaits in your ruff' two hours together, 
 and made a waiting frippery of me ] how you 
 raek'd my brain to compose verses for you, a 
 thing I could never abide 1 nay, in my conscience, 
 an I had not took courage you had brought me 
 to spin, and beat me with your slippers. 
 
 Luc. Well, sir, I perceive you are resolv'd to 
 hear no reason ; but, before my sorrowful depart- 
 ure, know, she that you slight is the preserver of 
 your life ; therefore, I dare be bold to call you 
 ingrate, and in that I have spoke all that can be 
 ill in man. 
 
 Aur. Pray, stay! come back a little. 
 
 Luc. Not till you are better temper'd. What I 
 have reveal'd is true ; and, though you prove un- 
 thankful, good deeds reward themselves : the con- 
 science of the fact shall pay my virtue. So I 
 leave you. [Exit. 
 
 Aur. That I should owe my life to her ! which 
 way I wonder 1 Something depends on this I 
 must win out : well, I will not foreswear it, but 
 the toy may take me in the head, and I may see 
 her. [Exit. 
 
 Enter Antiquary and Petro. 
 
 Ant. Has he such rare things, say you ? 
 
 Pet. Yes, sir ! I. believe you have not seen the like 
 of them, they are a couple of old manuscripts, found 
 in a wall, and stor'd up with the foundation ; it 
 may be they are the writings of some prophetess. 
 
 Ant. What moves you to think so, Petro 1 
 
 Pet. Because, sir, the characters are so imperfect ;
 
 252 THE ANTIQUARY. 
 
 for time has eaten out the letters, and the dust 
 makes a parenthesis betwixt every syllable.* 
 
 Ant. A shrewd convincing argument ! This 
 fellow has a notable reach with him. Go, bid him 
 enter ! A hundred to one some fool has them in 
 possession, that knows not their value ; it may be, 
 a man may purchase them for little or nothing — 
 
 Enter Lionell, like a scholar, with two books. 
 
 Come near, friend, let me see what you have there ! 
 Umph, 'tis as I said, they are of the old Roman 
 binding. What's the price of these ? 
 
 Lio. I would be loath, sir, to sell them under 
 rate only to merit laughter for my rashness ; 
 therefore I thought good to bestow them on you, 
 and refer myself to your wisdom and free nature 
 for my satisfaction. 
 
 Ant. You say well ; then am I bound again in 
 conscience to deal justly with you : will five hun- 
 dred crowns content you ? 
 
 Lio. I'll demand no more, sir. 
 
 Ant. Petro, see them deliver'd ! Now, I need not 
 fear to tell you what they are : this is a book de 
 Republica, 'tis Marcus Tullius Cicero's own hand- 
 writing ; I have some other books of his penning 
 give me assurance of it. 
 
 Pet. And what's the other, sir 1 
 
 Ant. This other is a book of mathematics that 
 was long lost in darkness, and afterwards restored 
 by Ptolemy. 
 
 Lio. I wonder, sir, unless you were Time's secre- 
 tary, how you should arrive to this intelligence. 
 
 * Printed bookes he contemnes as a novelty of this latter age ; 
 but a manuscript he pours on everlastingly, especially if the 
 cover be all moth-eaten, and the dust make a parenthesis 
 betweene every syllable. — Micro cosmographie, or apiece of the 
 world discovered : — A idlquary. 1628.
 
 THE ANTIQUARY. 253 
 
 Ant. I know it by more than inspiration. You 
 had them out of a wall, you say 1 
 
 Lio. Yes, sir. 
 
 Ant. Well then, however you came by them, 
 they were first brought to Venice by Cardinal Gir- 
 mannus, a patriarch, and were digged out of the 
 ruins of Aquileia, after it was sack'd by Attila king 
 of the Huns. 
 
 Lio. This to me is wonderful. 
 
 Ant. Petro, I mean to retire, and give myself 
 wholly to contemplation of these studies ; and, be- 
 cause nothing shall hinder me, I mean to lease out 
 my lands, and live confin'd. Enquire me out a chap- 
 man that "will take them of me. 
 
 Lio. If you please to let them, sir, I will help 
 you to a tenant. 
 
 Ant. Will you, sir ? with all my heart, and I'll 
 afford him the better bargain for your sake. 
 
 Pet. (Aside.) He may pay the rent with counters, 
 and make him believe they are antiquities. 
 
 Ant. What's the yearly rent of them, Petro 1 
 
 Pet. They have been rack'd, sir, to three thousand 
 crowns ; but the old rent was never above fifteen 
 hundred. m 
 
 Ant. Go to, you have said enough ! I'll have no 
 more than the old rent. Name your man, and the 
 indenture shall be drawn. 
 
 Lio. Before I propose that, sir, I thought good 
 to acquaint you with a specialty I found among 
 other writings ; which, having a seal to it, and a 
 name subscrib'd, does most properly belong to 
 you. 
 
 Ant. Let me see it. What's here ? Sienior 
 Jovanno Yeterano, de Monte Nigfd ! He was my 
 great grandfather, and this is an old debt of his 
 that remains yet uncancell'd. You could never 
 have pleas'd me better to my cost : this ought in
 
 254 THE ANTIQUARY. 
 
 conscience to be discharged, and I'll see it satisfied 
 the first thing I do. Come along ! 
 
 Pet. Will yon afford your nephew no exhibition 
 out of your estate, sir ] 
 
 Ant. Not a sol; not a gazet.* I have articles to 
 propose before the Senate shall disinherit him. 
 
 Lio. Have you, sir 1 Not justly, I hope. Pray, 
 what are they ? 
 
 Ant. One of them is, he sent me letters beyond 
 sea, dated stilo novo. 
 
 Lio. That was a great oversight. 
 Ant. Then you remember, Petro, he took up com- 
 modities, new-fashion'd stuffs;' when he was' under 
 age too, that he might cozen his creditors. 
 
 Pet. Yes, sir. 
 
 Ant. And afterwards found out a new way to 
 pay them too. 
 
 Lio. He serv'd them but in their kind, sir : per- 
 haps they meant to have cheated him. 
 
 Ant. 'Tis all one ; I'll have no such practices. But 
 the worst of all, one time when I found him drunk 
 and chid him for his vice, he had no way to excuse 
 himself, but to say he would become a new man. 
 
 Lio. That was heinously spoken, indeed. 
 Ant. These are sufficient aggravations to any one 
 that shall understand my humour, f 
 
 Enter Duke and Leonardo. 
 
 Duke. Save you, sir ! 
 
 Ant. These gentlemen shall be witnesses to the 
 bonds. You are very welcome ! 
 
 Duke. I hardly believe it, when you hear our 
 message. 
 
 Ant. Why, I beseech you 1 
 
 * Almost a penny ; whereof ten doe make a liver, that is. 
 nine] ence. Coryat p. 286. See note in Davenant's works, pre- 
 sent series, vol. ii., p 8. 
 
 f " Humour " in original Ed.
 
 t;ie antiquary. 255 
 
 Duke. 1 am sorry to be made the unkind instru- 
 ment to wrong you ; but, since 'tis a task impos'd 
 from sogreat a command, I hope you will the easier 
 be induced to dispense with me. 
 
 Ant. Come nearer to your aim : I understand 
 you not. 
 
 Duke. Then thus, sir: the Duke has been inform'd 
 of your rarities; and, holding them an unfit treasure 
 for a private man to possess, he hath sent his manda- 
 mus to take them from you. See, here's his hand 
 for the delivery ! 
 
 Ant. Oh, oh ! 
 
 Leo. What ails you, sir t 
 
 Ant I am struck with a sudden sickness : some 
 good man help to keep my soul in, that is rushing 
 from me, and will by no means be entreated to cori- 
 tinue ! 
 
 Lin. Pray sir, be comforted. 
 
 Ant. Comfort 1 no, I despise it : he has given nit; 
 daggers to my heart ! 
 
 Leo. Shew yourself a man, sir, and contemn the 
 worst of fortune, 
 
 Ant. Good sir, could not you have invented a 
 less studied way of torture to take away my life 1 
 
 Duke. I hope 'twill not work so deeply with you. 
 
 Ant. Nay, and 'twould stop there, 'twere well ; 
 but 'tis a punishment will follow me after death, 
 and afflict me worse than a fury. 
 
 Leo. I much pity the gentleman's case. 
 
 Ant. Think what 'tis to lose a son when you 
 have brought him up, or, after a seven years' 
 voyage, to see your ship sink in the harbour ! 
 
 Duke. 'Twere a woeful spectacle indeed ! 
 
 Ant. They are but ticklings to this : I have been 
 all my life a-gathering what I must now lose in a 
 moment. The sacking of a city is nothing to be 
 compared with it.
 
 256 THE ANTIQUARY. 
 
 Leo. And that's lamentable. 
 
 Ant. 'Twill but only give you a light to con- 
 ceive of my misery. 
 
 Lio. Pray, sir, be not importunate to take them 
 this time ; but try rather, if by any means you 
 can revoke the decree. 
 
 Duke. 'Twill be somewhat dangerous ; but, for 
 your sake, I'll try. 
 
 Ant. Shall I hope any comfort 1 Then, upon 
 my credit, gentlemen, I'll appoint you all mine 
 heirs so soon as I am dead. 
 
 Duke. You speak nobly. 
 
 Ant. Nay. and because you shall not long gape 
 after it, I'll die within a month, and set you down 
 all joint executors. 
 
 Lio. But when you are freed from the terror of 
 his imposition, will you not recant 1 
 
 Ant. Nay, an you doubt me, walk along, and 
 I'll confirm 't upon you instantly. [Exeunt. 
 
 Actus Quartus. 
 
 Enter ^Emilia and Angelia. 
 
 Mm. Why, gentle boy, think what a happy 
 bliss 
 Thou shalt enjoy, before thou know'st what 'tis ! 
 
 Ang. 'Twill be a dear experiment, to waste 
 My prime and flower of youth, and suffer all 
 Those liquid sweets to be extracted from me 
 By the hot influence of consuming lust, 
 Only to find how well you can express 
 What skilful arts are hid in wickedness ! 
 
 JEm. Thou dream'st, fond boy : those sweets of 
 youth and beauty
 
 THE ANTIQUARY. 257 
 
 "Were lent, to be employ'd upon their like ; 
 And when they both do meet, and are extinguished, 
 From their mixt heat a rich perfume shall rise, 
 And burn to love, a grateful sacrifice. 
 
 Ang. But I'll not be so prodigal to lavish 
 Such gifts away that be irrevocable 
 And yet the first that leave us. 
 
 JEm. 'Twill be ne'er exacted 
 How soon you have bestow'd them, but how welt 
 What good or profit can a hidden treasure 
 Do more than feed the miser's greedy eye, 
 When, if 'twere well bestow'd, it might enrich 
 The owner and the user of it ] Such 
 Is youth, and nature's bounty, that receive 
 A gain from the expense; but, were there none 
 But a mere damage, yet the pleasure of it 
 And the delight would recompense the loss. 
 
 Ang. Whate'er the pleasure be, or the delight. 
 I am too young, not plum'd for such a flight. 
 
 Aim. Too young] a poor excuse! alas, your 
 will 
 Is weaker than your power. No one can b»- 
 Too young to learn good arts ; and, for my part, 
 I am not taken with a boisterous sinew, 
 A brawny limb, or back of Hercules, 
 But with a soft delicious beauty ; such 
 As people, looking on his doubtful sex, 
 Might think him male or female. 
 
 Ang. I cannot blame 
 These just Italians to lock up their wives, 
 That are so free and dissolute : they labour 
 Not with their country's heat more than their 
 
 own. 
 Will you be satisfied I am too young '( 
 Aim. Too young \ I like you the better. There 
 is a price 
 Due to the early cherry : the first apples 
 
 R
 
 258 THE ANTIQUARY. 
 
 Deserve more grace : the budding rose is set by ; 
 But stale, and fully-blown, is left for vulgars 
 To rub their sweaty fingers on. Too young 1 
 As well you may affirm the tender tree 
 Too young to graft upon ; or you may say, 
 The rising sun's too young to court the day. 
 
 Ang. But there are bonds Hymen has laid upon 
 you, 
 Keep us asunder. 
 
 Mm. Those are only toys, 
 Shadows, mere apparitions of doubt 
 To affright children. Do but yield unto me. 
 My arms shall be thy sphere to wander in, 
 ('Jircled about with spells to charm these fears \ 
 And, when thou sleep'st, Cupid shah crown thy 
 
 slumbers 
 With thousand shapes of lustful dalliance : 
 Then will I bathe thee in ambrosia, 
 And from my lips distil such nectar on thee, 
 Shall make thy flesh immortal. 
 
 Enter Lorenzo. 
 
 Lor. How now, wife, is this your exercise ] 
 Wife, did I say 1 Stain of my blood and issue, 
 The great antipathy unto my nature, 
 Courting your paramour 1 Death to my honour ! 
 What have I seen and heard I Curse of my fate ! 
 Would I had first been deaf, or thou struck dumb, 
 Before this Gorgon, this damn'd vision, 
 Had numb'd my faculties. 
 
 AZm. What have you seen 
 Or heard, more than a dialogue I read 
 This morning in a book ? 
 
 Lor. Would thou and that book 
 Were both burnt for heretics ! — You genial powers. 
 Why did you send this serpent to my bosom, 
 To pierce me through with greater cruelty
 
 THE ANTIQUARY. 259 
 
 Than Cleopatra felt from stings of adders ? 
 Hence from my sight, thou venom to my eyes ! 
 Would I could look thee dead, or with a frown 
 Dissect thee into atoms, and then hurl them 
 About the world to cast infection, 
 And blister all they light on ! 
 
 jErn. You are mad, 
 
 And rave without a cause ! 
 
 Lor. Oh, Heavens ! she means 
 
 To justify her sin ! Can'st thou redeem 
 Thy lost fame and my wrongs 1 
 
 AHm. No, sir, I'll leave you ! 
 You are too passionate. [Exit: 
 
 A ng. Pray, sir, be satisfied we meant no hurt. 
 
 Lir. What charm held back my hand I did not 
 let 
 Her foul blood out, then throw't into the air, 
 Whence it might mount up to the higher region, 
 And there convert into some fearful meteor, 
 To threaten all her kindred 1 Stay, sweet child. 
 For thou art virtuous :- — yet go, however ; 
 Thou put'st me in remembrance of some ill. 
 
 [Exit Ang. 
 Diana blush'd Actseon to a stag : 
 What shall lust do 1 Chastity made horns ! 
 I shall be grafted with a horrid pair, 
 And between every branch a written scroll 
 Shall speak my shame, that foot-boys shall discern 
 
 it '. 
 And sailors read it as they pass along ! 
 
 If I bear this I have no soul nor spleen. 
 
 I must invent some mischief. Smallest cares 
 
 Are talkative whil'st great ones silent are.* [Exit. 
 
 Enter ^Emilia. 
 JEm. What have I done, that with a clue of lust 
 
 * Cune leves loquuntur ingentes stupent. Seneca. S. P.
 
 2 GO THE ANTIQUARY. 
 
 Have wrought myself in such a labyrinth, 
 Whence I shall ne'er get free 1 There is no wrong 
 Like to the breach of wedlock : those injuries 
 Are writ in marine time shall ne'er rase out. 
 The hearts of such, if they be once divided, 
 "Will ne'er grow one again : sooner you may 
 Call the' spent day, or bid the stream return, 
 That long since slid beside you. I am lost ; 
 Quite forfeited to shame, which, till I felt, 
 I ne'er foresaw, so was the less prepared. 
 But yet, they say, a woman's wit is sudden, 
 And quick at an excuse. I was too foolish. 
 Had he confounded Heaven and earth with oaths. 
 I might have sworn him down, or wept so truly, 
 That he should sooner question his own eyes 
 Than my false tears : this had been worth the 
 
 acting, 
 Or else I might have stood to the defence on't, 
 Been angry, and took a courage from my crimes ; 
 But I was tame and ignorant ! 
 
 Enter Lionell. 
 
 Lio. Save you, lady ! 
 
 JEm, Oh Signior Lionell, you have undone me. 
 
 Li<>. Who, I ! Which way ? 
 
 jEm, The boy you brought my husband. 
 
 Lor. Ay, what of him 1 
 
 JEm. He is a witch, a thief, 
 That has stol'n all my honours. His smootli 
 
 visage 
 Seemed like to a sea becalm'd, or a safe harbour, 
 Where love might ride securely, but was found 
 A dangerous quicksand, wherein are perish'd 
 My hopes and fortunes, by no art or engine 
 To be weigh'd up again. 
 
 Lio. Instruct me how. 
 
 JEm. Teach me the way then, that I may relate
 
 THE ANTIQUARY. 2(5 1 
 
 My own ill story with as great a boldness 
 As I did first conceive, and after act it. 
 What wicked error led my wand'ring thoughts 
 To gaze on his false beauty, that has prov'd 
 The fatal minute of my mind's first ruin ] 
 Shall I be brief? 
 
 Lio. "What else 1 
 
 JEm. How can I speak, 
 Or plead with hope, that have so foul a cause ! 
 
 Lio. You torture me too much ! the fear of evil 
 Is worse than the event. 
 
 JEm. Then, though my heart 
 Abhor the memory, I'll tell it out. — 
 The boy I mentioned — whatever power 
 Did lay on me so sad a punishment — 
 I did behold him with a lustful eye, 
 And, which is the perfection of sin, 
 Did woo him to my will. 
 
 Lio. Well, what of that 1 
 You are not the first offender in that kind. 
 
 JEm. My suit no sooner ended but came in 
 My jealous husband. 
 
 Lio. That was something, indeed ! 
 
 JEm. Who overheard us all. 
 
 Lio. A shrewd mischance ! 
 
 JEm. Judge with what countenance he did be- 
 hold me, 
 Or I view him, that had so great a guilt 
 Hang on my brow. My looks and hot desire 
 Both fell together ; whilst he, big with anger 
 And swoll'n high with revenge, hastes from my 
 
 presence, 
 Only to study how to inflict some torture, 
 Which I stay to expect : and here you see 
 The suffering object of his cruelty. 
 
 Lio. Methinks it were an easy thing for one 
 That were ingenious, to retort all
 
 2H2 THE ANTIQUARY. 
 
 On his own head, and make him ask forgiveness. 
 
 JEm. That would be a scene indeed ! 
 
 Lio. I have been fortunate 
 In such turns in my days, 
 
 A^m. Could you do this. 
 
 I'd swear you had more wit than Mercury, 
 Or his son Autolycus, that was able 
 To change black into white. 
 
 Lin. Do not despair .' 
 
 I have a genius was ne'er false to me ; 
 If he should fail me now in these extremes, 
 I would not only wonder, but renounce him : 
 He tells me ! something may be done. Be rul'd ! 
 And if I plot not so to make all hit, 
 Then you shall take the mortgage of my wit. 
 
 JEm. However, sir, you speak comfortably. 
 
 \_Ereuiif. 
 
 Enter Aurelto above, Duke and Leonardo 
 over the stage. 
 
 Aur. Good morrow, gentlemen. "What ! you are 
 for the feast, I perceive. 
 
 Duke. Master Aurelio, good morrow to you. 
 Whose chamber's that, I pray 1 
 
 Aur. My own, sir, now : I thank ill fortune 
 and a good wife. 
 
 Duke. What ! are you married, and your friends 
 not pre-acquainted % This will be constru'd amongst 
 them. 
 
 Aur. A stol'n wedding, sir ! I was glad to ap- 
 prehend any occasion when I found her inclining. — 
 We'll celebrate the solemnities hereafter, when there 
 shall be nothing wanting to make our Hymen happy 
 and nourishing. 
 
 Leo. In good time, sir. Who is your spouse, I 
 pray ! 
 
 Aur. Marry, sir, a creature, for whose sake I
 
 THE ANTIQUARY. 263 
 
 have endured many a heat and cold, before I could 
 vanquish her. She has prov'd one of Hercules' 
 labours to me ; but Time, that perfects all things, 
 made my long toil and affection both successful : 
 and, in brief, 'tis Mistiness Lucretia, as very u 
 haggard* as ever was brought to fist. 
 
 Du. Indeed ! I have often heard you much com- 
 plain of her coyness and disdain ; what auspicious 
 charm has now reconcil'd you together 1 
 
 Aw. There is, sir, a critical minute in every 
 man's wooing, when his mistress may be won. 
 which, if he carelessly neglect to prosecute, he may 
 wait long enough .before he gain the like 
 opportunity. 
 
 Leo. It seems, sir, you have lighted upon't. — 
 We wish you much joy in your fair choice. 
 
 A ur. Thank you, gentlemen • and I to either of 
 you no worse fortune. But that my wife is not 
 yet risen, I would intreat you take the pains come 
 up and visit her. 
 
 Du. No, sir, that would be uncivil ; we'll wait 
 some fitter occasion to gratulate your rites. Good- 
 morrow to you ! \Exe nut. 
 
 Aur. Your servant ! Nay, lye you still, and dare 
 not so much as proffer to mutter, for if you do I 
 vanish. Now, if you will revolt, you may. I have 
 laid a stain upon your honour, which you shall 
 wash off as well as you can. 
 
 Enter Lucretia. 
 
 Luc. Was this done like a gentleman, or indeed 
 like a true lover, to bring my name in question, 
 and make me no less than your whore ] Was I ever 
 married to you ? Speak ! 
 
 Aur. No; but you may when you please. 
 
 * "A haggard faulcon — a faulcon that prajed for herself 
 before she was taken." Blount.
 
 2.64 THE ANTIQUARY. 
 
 Luc. Why were you then so impudent to pro- 
 claim such a falsehood, and say I was your wife, 
 and that you had lain with me when 'twas no such 
 matter. 
 
 Aur. Because I meant to make you so, and no 
 man else should do it. 
 
 Luc. 'Slight, this is a device to over-reach a 
 woman with 1 He has madded me and I would 
 give a hundred crowns I could scold out my anger. 
 
 Aur. Come, there's no injury done to you, but 
 what lyes in my power to make whole again. 
 
 Luc. Your power to make whole ] I'll have no 
 man command me so far. What can any lawful 
 jury judge of my honesty, upon such proofs as these, 
 when they shall see a gentleman making himself 
 ready so early, and saluting them out of the 
 chamber, whether — like a false man — thou hast 
 stol'n in by the bribery of my servant '? Is this no 
 scandal 1 
 
 Aur. 'Twas done on purpose and I am glad my 
 inventions thrive so ; therefore do not stand talk- 
 ing, but resolve. 
 
 Luc. What should I resolve 1 
 
 Aur. To marry me for the safe-guard of your 
 credit, and that suddenly ; for I have made a vow 
 that, unless you will do it without delay, I'll not 
 have you at all. 
 
 Luc. Some politician counsel me ! There's no 
 such torment to a woman, though she affect a 
 thing never so earnestly yet to be forc'd to it. 
 
 Aur. What, are you agreed 1 
 
 Luc. Well, you are a tyrant, lead on ! what 
 must be must be ; but, if there were any other 
 way in the earth to save my reputation I'd never 
 have thee. 
 
 Aur. Then I must do you a courtesy against 
 your will. [L'.reu/tt.
 
 THE ANTIQUARY. 265 
 
 Enter Petrutio and Cook. 
 
 Pet. Come, honest cook, let me see how thy 
 imagination has wrought as well as thy fingers, 
 and what curiosity thou hast shewn in the pre- 
 paration of this banquet ; for gluttoning delights 
 to be ingenious. 
 
 Cook. I have provided you a feast, sir, of twelve 
 dishes, whereof each of them is an emblem of one 
 of the twelve signs in the Zodiack. 
 
 Pet. Well said ! Who will now deny that 
 cookery is a mystery ] 
 
 Cook. Look you, sir, there is the list of them. 
 
 Pet. Aries, Taurus, Gemini ; good ! for Aries, 
 a dish of lamb-stones and sweet-breads ; for Taurus, 
 a sirloin of beef; for Gemini, a brace of pheasants ; 
 for Cancer, a butter'd crab ; for Libra, a balance, 
 in one scale a custard, in the other a tart — that's 
 a dish for an alderman ; for Virgo, a green salad ; 
 for Scorpio, a grand one ; for Sagittarius, a pasty 
 of venison ; for Aquarius, a goose ; for Pisces, two 
 mullets. Is that all 1 
 
 Cook. Read on, sir ! 
 
 Pet. And in the middle of the table, to have 
 an artificial hen made of puff-paste, with her 
 wings display'd, sitting upon eggs compos'd of the 
 same materials ; where in each of them shall be 
 enclosed a fat nightingale, well season'd with 
 pepper and amber-greece.' f So then will I add one 
 
 * "In pastry built, or from the spit, or boil'd, 
 
 Gris amber steam'd." — Milton. 
 " Be sure 
 The wines be lusty, high, and full of spirit, 
 And amber'd all." — Beaumont and Fletcher. 
 Peck, commenting on the above passage in Milton, states 
 that " a curious lady " supplied him these particulars : — "Grey 
 amber is the amber our author here speaks of, and melts like 
 butter. It was formerly a main ingredient in every concert for 
 a baiupiet, — viz., to fume the meat with, and that, whether
 
 266 THE ANTIQUARY. 
 
 invention more of my own; for I will have all 
 these descend from the top of my roof, in a throne, 
 as you see Cupid or Mercury in a play. 
 
 Cook. That will be rare indeed, sir ! [Exit. 
 
 Enter Duke and Leonardo. 
 
 Pet. See, the guests are come ! go, and make all 
 ready. Gentles, you are welcome. 
 
 Du. Is the Antiquary arriv'd, or no ? can you 
 tell, sir ? 
 
 Pet. Not yet, but I expect him each minute— 
 
 Enter Antiquary. 
 
 See, your word has charm'd him hither already ! 
 
 Du, Signior, you are happily encounter'd, and 
 the rather, because I have good news to tell you : 
 the Duke has been so gracious as to release his 
 demand for your antiquities. 
 
 Ant. Has he 1 You have fill'd me all over with 
 spirit, with which I will mix sixteen glasses of wine, 
 to his health, the first thing I do. Would I knew 
 his Highness, or had a just occasion to present my 
 loyalty at his feet ! 
 
 Du. For that, take no thought ; it shall be my 
 care to bring you and signior Petrutio here, both 
 before him. I have already acquainted him with 
 both your worths, and, for aught I can gather by 
 his speech, he intends to do you some extraordinary 
 honours : it may be, he will make one a Senatoi", 
 because of his age ; and, on the other, bestow his 
 
 boil'd, roasted, or baked ; laid often on the top of a baked 
 pudding ; which last I have eat of at an old courtier's table. 
 And, I remember, in our old chronicles there is much com- 
 plaint of the nobilities being made sick at Cardinal Wolsey's 
 banquets with rich scented cates and dishes most costly dressed 
 with ambergris. I also recollect 1 once saw a little book writ 
 by a gentlewoman of Queen Elizabeth's Court, where amhei-gris 
 is mentioned as the haut-gout of that age." 
 
 It was also esteemed a restorative. See Marstoih's Fawne. 
 In addition, see D'avenant's works in this series, vol. ii., p. 224.
 
 THE ANTIQUARY. 267 
 
 daughter or niece in marriage. There's some such 
 thing hatching, I assure you. 
 
 Pet. Very likely ! I imagin'd as much. That last 
 shall be my lot ; I knew some such destiny would 
 befall me. Shall we be jovial upon this news, and 
 thrust all sadness out of doors 1 
 
 Leo. For our parts, Vitellius was never so volup- 
 tuous : all our discourse shall run wit to the last. 
 
 Da. Our mirth shall be the quintessence of plea- 
 sure, 
 And our delight flow with that harmony ; 
 Th' ambitious spheres shall to the centre shrink, 
 To hear our music ; such ravishing accents, 
 As are from poets in their fury hurl'd, 
 When their outrageous raptures fill the world. 
 
 Pet. There spoke my genius ! 
 
 Ant. Now you talk of music, have you e'er a one 
 that can play us an old lesson, or sing us an old 
 song] 
 
 Pet. An old lesson? yes, he shall play "the be- 
 ginning of the world;"* and, for a song, he shall sing 
 one that was made to the moving of the orbs, when 
 they were first set in tune. 
 
 Ant. Such a one would I hear. 
 
 Pet. Walk in then ! and it shall not be long be- 
 fore I satisfy your desire. [Exeunt. 
 
 Enter Petro and Julia, with two bottles. 
 
 Jul. Come, Master Petro, welcome heartily ! 
 while they are drinking within we'll be as merry as 
 the maids. I stole these bottles from under the cup- 
 board, a purpose, against your coming. 
 
 Pet. Courteous Mistress Julia, how shall I de- 
 serve this favour from you ? 
 
 * " Sellinger's Round, or the beginning of the World," is to 
 be found in Queen Elizabeth's and Lady Neville's Virginal 
 Books, also in "the Dancing Mortar." — Ckappdl's Ancient 
 Eiiylisk Ballads.
 
 268 THE ANTIQUARY. 
 
 Jul. There is a way, Master Petro, if you could 
 find it ; but the tenderness of your youth keeps you 
 in ignorance. 'Tis a great fault, I must tell you. 
 
 Pet. I shall strive to amend it, if you please to 
 instruct me, Lady. 
 
 Jul. Alas, do not you know what maids love all 
 this while ? You must come oftener amongst us ; 
 want of company keeps the spring of your blood 
 backward. 
 
 Pet. It does so, but you shall see, when we are 
 private, I shall begin to practice with you better. 
 
 Enter Baccha. 
 
 Bac. Master Petro, this was kindly done of you. 
 
 Pet. What's my master a doing, can you tell 1 
 
 Bac. Why, they are as jovial as twenty beggars, 
 drink their whole cups, six glasses at a health : your 
 master's almost tipt already. 
 
 Pet. So much the better, his business is the 
 sooner dispatch'd. 
 
 Jul. Well, let not us stand idle, but verify the 
 proverb " Like master like man ;" and it shall go 
 hard, Master Petro, but we will put you in the 
 same cue. 
 
 Pet, Let me have fair play ! put nothing in my 
 cup, and do your worst. 
 
 Bac. Unless the cup have that virtue to retain 
 the print of a kiss or the glance of an eye to en- 
 amour you, nothing else, I assure you. 
 
 Pet. For that, I shall be more thirsty of than of 
 the liquor. 
 
 Jul. Then, let's make no more words, but about 
 it presently. Come, Master Petro, will you walk 
 in? 
 
 Pel. I attend you. 
 
 Bac. It shall go hard but I'll drink him asleep, 
 and then work some knavery upon him. [Exeunt.
 
 THE ANTIQUARY. 269 
 
 Enter Duke, Leonardo, and the Antiquary drunk. 
 
 Ant. I'll drink with all Xerxes' army now ; a 
 whole river at a draught. 
 
 Du. By'r lady, sir ! that requires a large swallow. 
 
 Ant. 'Tis all one. To our noble Duke's health .' 
 I can drink no less, not a drop less ; and you his 
 servants will pledge me, I am sure. 
 
 Leo. Yes, sir, if you could shew us a way, when 
 we had done, how to build water-mills in our 
 bellies. 
 
 Ant. Do you what you will ; for my part, I will 
 begin it again and again till Bacchus himself shall 
 stand amaz'd at me. 
 
 Leo. But should this quantity of drink come up, 
 'twere enough to breed a deluge and drown a 
 whole country. 
 
 Ant. No matter ! they can ne'er die better than 
 to be drown'' d in the Duke's health. 
 
 Du. Well, sir, I'll acquaint him how much he is 
 beholden to you. 
 
 Ant. Will you believe me, gentlemen, upon my 
 credit 1 
 
 Leo. Yes, sir, any thing. 
 
 Ant. Do you see these breeches then ] 
 
 Leo. Ay, what of them ? 
 
 Ant. These were Pompey's breeches, I assure 
 you. 
 
 Du. Is't possible 1 
 
 Ant. He had his denomination from them : he 
 was call'd Pompey the Great from wearing of these 
 great breeches. 
 
 Leo. I never heard so much before. 
 
 Ant. And this was Julius Caesar's hat when he 
 was kill'd in the Capitol ; and I am as great as 
 either of them at this present. 
 
 Leo. Like enough so.
 
 270 THE ANTIQUARY. 
 
 Ant. And, in my conceit, I am as honourable. 
 JJu. If you are not you deserve to be. 
 Ant. Where's signior Petrutio 1 
 
 Enter Petrutio and Gasparo. 
 
 Pet. Nay, good father, do not trouble me now ; 
 'tis enough now, that I have promis'd you to go to 
 the Duke with me. In the meantime fet me work 
 out matters ; do not clog me in the way of my pre- 
 ferment. When I am a nobleman I will do by you 
 as Jupiter did by the other deities ; that is, I will 
 let down my chair of honour, and pull you up after 
 me. 
 
 Gas. Well, you shall rule me, son. [Exit. 
 
 Du. Signior, where have you been 1 
 
 Pet. I have been forcing my brain to the com- 
 position of a few verses in the behalf of your enter- 
 tainment, and I never knew them flow so dully 
 from me before ; an exorcist would have conjured 
 you up half a dozen spirits in the space. 
 
 Leo. Indeed I heard you make a fearful noise, 
 as if you had been in travail with some strange 
 monster. 
 
 Pet. But I have brought them out at last, I 
 thank Minerva, and without the help of a midwife. 
 
 Ant. Reach me a chair ! I'll sit down and read 
 them for you. 
 
 Leo. You read them 1 
 
 Ant. Yes, but I'll put on my optics first. Look 
 you, these were Hannibal's spectacles. 
 
 Du. Why, did Hannibal wear spectacles ? 
 
 Ant. Yes ! after he grew dim with dust in follow- 
 ing the camp he wore spectacles. Peach me the 
 paper. 
 
 Leo. No, an author must recite his own works. 
 
 Ant. Then I'll sit and sleep. 
 
 Leo. Read on, signior !
 
 THE ANTIQUARY. 271 
 
 Pet. They were made to shew how welcome you 
 are to me. 
 
 Da. Read them out ! 
 
 Pet. As welcome as the gentry's to the toivn, 
 After a long and hard vacation : 
 As welcome as a toss'd ship's to a harbour, 
 Health to the sick, or a cast suit to a barber, 
 Or as a good new play is to the times. 
 When they have long surfeited with base rhymes : 
 As welcome as the spring is to the year, 
 So are my friends to me, when I have good cheer. 
 [While he reads the Antiquary falls asleep. 
 
 Du. Ay, marry, sir ! we are doubly beholden to 
 you. What ! is Signior Veterano fall'n asleep, and 
 at the recitation of such verses 1 A most inhuman 
 disgrace, and not to be digested ! 
 
 Pet. Has he wrong'd me so discourteously 1 
 I'll be reveng'd, by Phoebus ! 
 
 Leo. But which way can you parallel so foul an 
 injury 1 
 
 Pet. I'll go in, and make some verses against 
 him. 
 
 Du. That you shall not ; 'tis not requital suffi- 
 cient : I have a better trick than so. Come, bear 
 him in, and you shall see what I will invent for you. 
 This was a wrong and a half. [Exeunt. 
 
 Enter ^Emilia and Lionell. 
 
 Mm. Now, Master Lionell, as you have been 
 fortunate in the forecasting of this business so pray 
 be studious in the executing, that we may both 
 come off with honour. 
 
 Lio. Observe but my directions and say nothing. 
 
 Mm, The whole adventure of my credit depends 
 upon your care and evidence.
 
 272 THE ANTIQUARY. 
 
 Lio. Let no former passage discourage you ; be 
 hut as peremptory as [your] cause is good. 
 
 jEm. Nay, if I but once apprehend a just occasion 
 to usurp over him, let me alone to talk and look 
 scurvily. Step aside, I hear him coming ! 
 
 Enter Lorenzo. 
 
 Lor. My wife 1 Some angel guard me ! The 
 looks of Medusa were not so ominous. I'll haste 
 from the infection of her sight as from the appear- 
 ance of a basilisk. 
 
 Mm. Nay, sir, you may tarry ; and if virtue has 
 not quite forsook you, or that your ears be not 
 quite altogether obdurate to good counsel, consider 
 what I say, and be asham'd of the injuries you have 
 wrought against me. 
 
 Lor. What unheard-of evasion has the subtlety 
 of woman's nature suggested to her thoughts to 
 come off now ? 
 
 Mm. Well, sir, however you carry it, 'tis I have 
 reason to complain ; but the mildness of my dis- 
 position, and enjoined obedience, will not permit 
 me, though indeed your wantonness and ill carriage 
 have sufficiently provoked me. 
 
 Lor. Provok'd you ! I provok'd you % As if 
 any fault in a husband should warrant the like in 
 his wife ! No, 'twas thy lust and mightiness of 
 desire that is so strong within thee. Had'st thou 
 no company, no masculine object to look upon, yet 
 thy own fancy were able to create a creature, with 
 whom thou might'st commit, though not an actual, 
 yet a mental Avickedness 1 
 
 Mm. What recompense can you make me for 
 those slanderous conceits, when they shall be provYl 
 false to you 1 
 
 Lor. Hear me, thou base woman ! thou that art 
 the abstract of all ever yet was bad; with whom
 
 THE ANTIQUARY. 273 
 
 mischief is so incorporate, that you are both one 
 piece together ; and, but that you go still hand in 
 hand, the devil were not sufficient to encounter with; 
 for thou art, indeed, able to instruct him ! Do not 
 imagine, with this frontless impudence, to stand 
 daring of me : I can be angry, and as cmick in 
 the execution of it, I can. 
 
 JSm. Be as angry as you please ; truth and 
 honesty will be confident, in despite of you : those 
 are virtues that will look justice itself in the face. 
 
 Lor. Ay, but where are they ? Not a-near you ; 
 thou would st blast them to behold thee : scarce, I 
 think, in the world, especially such worlds as you 
 women are. 
 
 JEm. Umh ! to see what an easy matter it is to 
 let a jealous peevish husband go on, and rebuke 
 him at pleasure ! 
 
 Lor. So lewd and stubborn mads me. Speak 
 briefly, what objection can you allege against me, or 
 for yourself? 
 
 ^Em. None, alas, against you ! You are virtu- 
 ous ; but you think you can act the Jupiter, to 
 blind me with your escapes and conceal'd trulls : 
 yet I am not so simple, but I can play the Juno, 
 and find out your exploits. 
 
 Lor. What exploits ] What conceal'd trulls ? 
 Mm. Why, the suppos'd boy you seem to be 
 jealous of, 'tis your own leman, your own dear 
 morsel : I have searched out the mystery. Hus- 
 bands must do ill, and wives must bear the re- 
 proach ! A fine inversion ! 
 
 Lor. I am more in a maze, more involv'd in a 
 labyrinth, than before. 
 
 JEm. You were best plead innocence too, 'tis 
 your safest refuge : but I did not think a man of 
 your age and beard had been so lascivious, to keep 
 
 s
 
 274 THE ANTIQUARY. 
 
 a disguis'd callet * under my nose, a base cockatricef 
 in page's apparel, to wait upon you, and rob me 
 of my due benevolence ! There's no law nor 
 equity to warrant this. 
 
 L>r. Why, do I any such thing ? 
 
 JEm. Pray, what else is the boy, but your own 
 hermaphrodite ? a female siren in a male outside ! 
 Alas ! had I intended what you suspect, and ac- 
 cuse me for, I had been more wary, more private 
 in the carriage, I assure you. 
 
 Lor. Why, is that boy otherwise than he ap- 
 pears to be ] 
 
 Enter Lionell. 
 
 JEm. Tis a thing will be quickly search'd out 
 Your secret bawdry, and the murder of my good 
 name, will not long lye hid, I warrant you. 
 
 Lio. Xow is my cue to second her. [As 
 
 Lor. Signior Lionell, most welcome ! I would 
 entreat your advice here, to the clearing of a 
 doubt. 
 
 Lio. What's that, sir I 
 
 Lor. 'Tis concerning the boy you plac'd with 
 me. 
 
 Lio. Ay. what of him ] 
 
 Lvr. \\ hefher it were an enchantment or no, 
 or an illusion of the sight, or if I could persuade 
 myself it was a drea m, 'twere better ; but my im- 
 agination so persuaded me, that I heard my wife 
 and him interchan^ina; amorous discourse together 
 
 * A trull. 
 
 •'' He call'd her whore ! a beggar, in his drink. 
 Could not have laid such terms upon his callet." 
 
 ShaJhapt 
 
 t " Marry ! to his cockatrice, or punquetto, half-a-dozen taffa- 
 ta gowns, or satin kirtles, in a pair or two of months : why, 
 they are nothing." Johnson's Cynthia's II
 
 THE ANTIQUARY. 27:'. 
 
 To what- an extremity of passion the frailty of 
 man's nature might induce me to ! 
 
 Lio. Very good ! 
 
 Lor. Not very good neither ; but, after the ex- 
 pense of so much anger and distraction, my wife 
 comes upon me again, and affirms that he is no 
 boy, but a disguis'd mistress of my own; and, upon 
 this, swells against me, as if she had lain all night 
 in the leaven. 
 
 JEm. Have not I reason 1 
 
 Lor. Pray, sir, will you inform us of the verity 
 of his sex 1 
 
 Lio. Then take it upon my word, 'tis a woman. 
 
 Mm. Now, sir, what have you to answer % 
 
 Lor. I am not yet thoroughly satisfied ; but, if 
 it be a woman, I must confess my error. 
 
 jEm. What satisfaction's that, after so great a 
 wrong, and the taking away of my good name I 
 You forget my deserts, and how I brought you 
 a dowry of ten talents : besides, I find net 
 such superfluity of courage in you to do this 
 neither. 
 
 Lor. Well, were he a boy or no, 'tis more than 
 I can affirm ; yet this I'll swear, I entertain'd him 
 for no mistress, and, I hope, you for no servant ; 
 therefore, good wife, be pacified. 
 
 JSm, No, sir, I'll call my kindred and my 
 friends together, then present a joint complaint of 
 you to the Senate, and, if they right me not, I'll 
 protest there's no justice in their court or govern- 
 ment. 
 
 Lor. If she have this plea against me, I must 
 make my peace ; she'll undo me else. Sweet wife, 
 I'll ask thee forgiveness upon my knees, if thou 
 wilt have me : I rejoice more that thou art clear, 
 than I was angry for the suppos'd offence. Be 
 but patient, and the liberty thou enjoyedst before,
 
 •J 76 THE ANTIQUARY. 
 
 shall be thought thraldom hereafter. Sweet sir, 
 will you mediate 1 
 
 Lio. Come, sweet lady, upon my request you 
 shall be made friends ; 'twas but a mistake ! con- 
 ceive it so, and he shall study to redeem it. 
 
 JEm. Well, sir, upon this gentleman's entreaty, 
 you have your pardon. You know the propensity 
 of my disposition, and that makes you so bold 
 with me. 
 
 Lor. Pray, Master Lionell, will you acquaint my 
 wife with the purpose of this concealment, for I 
 am utterly ignorant, and she has not the patience 
 to hear me 1 
 
 Lio. It requires more privacy than so, neither is 
 it yet ripe for projection ; but because the com- 
 munity of counsel is the only pledge of friendship, 
 walk in, and 111 acquaint you. 
 
 Lor. Honest, sweet wife, I thank thee with all 
 my heart ! [Exeunt. 
 
 Enter Duke, Leonardo, and Petrutio, hinging 
 in the Antiquary, in a Fool's coat. 
 
 Du. So, set him down softly ! then let us slip 
 aside, and overhear him. 
 
 Ant. Where am I ] What metamorphosis am I 
 crept into 1 A fool's coat ! what's the emblem of 
 tins, trow 1 Who has thus transform'd me, I 
 wonder ? I was awake, am I not asleep still 1 
 Why, Petro, you rogue, sure I have drank of 
 Circe's cup, and that has turn'd me to this shape 
 of a fool : an I had drank a little longer I had 
 been chang'd into an ass. Why, Petro, I say ! I 
 will not rest calling, till thou com'st — 
 
 Enter Petro in woman's clothes. 
 Hoyday ! what, more transmigrations of forms ?
 
 THE ANTIQUARY. 277 
 
 I think Pythagoras has been amongst us. How 
 came you thus accoutred, sirrah 1 
 
 Pet. Why, sir, the wenches made me drunk, and 
 dress'd me as you see. 
 
 Ant. A merry world the while ! My boy and 
 I make one hermaphrodite, and now, next Mid- 
 summer-ale,* I may serve for a fool, and he for a 
 Maid-Marian. 
 
 Enter Duke and Leonardo. 
 
 Du. Who is this ] Signior Veterano ? 
 
 Ant. The same, sir ; I was not so when you left 
 me. Do you know who has thus abus'd me 1 
 
 Du. Not I, sir. 
 
 Ant. You promis'd to do me a courtesy. 
 
 Du. Any thing lies in my power. 
 
 Ant. Then, pray, will you bring me immediately 
 to the Duke % 
 
 Du. Not as you are, I hope. 
 
 Ant. Yes, as I am ; he shall see how I am 
 Avrong'd amongst them. I know he loves me, and 
 will right me. Pray, sir, forbear persuasion to 
 the contrary, and lead on ! [Exeunt 
 
 Actus Quintus. 
 Enter Lorenzo, Moccinigo, ^Emilia, and 
 
 LUCRETIA. 
 
 Lor. Now, signior Moccinigo, what haste requires 
 your presence ] 
 
 * Rustic festivous meeting's were called " ales," as at such 
 meetings, ale, with provisions, for which subscriptions were 
 levied on the parishioners by those whom they chose as 
 wardens, were produced. These meetings were called ' ' Church- 
 ale, Whitsun-ale, Bride-ale, Midsummer ale," &c. For " Church- 
 ale," see Careie^s Survey of Cornwall. 17tW. p. o"8.
 
 278 THE ANTIQUARY. 
 
 Moc. Marry, sir ! this. You brought me once 
 into a paradise of pleasure, and expectation of 
 much comfort ; my request therefore is, that you 
 would no longer defer what then you so liberally 
 promis'd. 
 
 Lor. How do you mean ] 
 
 Moc. Why, sir, in joining that beauteous lady, 
 your daughter, and myself in the firm bonds of 
 matrimony ; for I am somewhat impatient of delay 
 in this kind, and indeed the height of my blood 
 requires it. 
 
 Luc. Are you so hot 1 I shall give you a card to 
 cool you,* presently. 
 
 Lor. 'Tis an honest and a virtuous demand, and 
 on all sides an action of great consequence; and, 
 for my part, there's not a thing in the world I 
 could wish sooner accomplished. 
 
 Moc. Thank you, sir ! 
 
 Lor. There's another branch of policy, besides the 
 complying of you two together, which springs from 
 the fruitfulness of my brain, that I as much labour 
 to bring to perfection as the other. 
 
 Moc. What's that, sir ? 
 
 Lor. A device upon the same occasion, but with 
 a different respect ; 'tis to be impos'd upon Petrutio. 
 I hate to differ so much from the nature of an 
 Italian, as not to be revengeful ; and the occasion, 
 at this time, was, he scorn'd the love of her that 
 you now so studiously affect. But I'll fit him in his 
 kind. 
 
 Moc. Did he so 1 ? He deserves to have both his 
 eyes struck as blind as Cupid's, his master, that 
 should have taught him better manners. But how 
 will you do it ? 
 
 . * " Euphues. to the intent he might bridle the overlashing 
 affections of Philautus, conveid into his studie a certeine 
 pamphlet which he tearmed A cooling card for Philautus ; yet 
 generally to bee applyed to all lovers " — Lyty's Euphues.
 
 THE ANTIQUARY. 279 
 
 Lor. There's one Lionell, an ingenious witty gen- 
 tleman. 
 
 Mm. Ay, that he is, as ever breath'd, husband, 
 upon my knowledge. 
 
 Lor. Well, he is so, and we two have cast to 
 requite it upon him. The plot, as he informs me, 
 is already in agitation, and afterwards, sans delay, 
 I'll bestow her upon you. 
 
 Luc. But you may be deceiv'd. [Aside. 
 
 Mac. Still you engage me more and more your 
 debtor. 
 
 Lor. If I can bring both these to success, as they 
 are happily intended, I may sit down and with the 
 poet, cry, jamque opus exegi. 
 
 Moc. Would I could say so too ; I wish as much, 
 but 'tis you must confirm it, fair mistress. One 
 bare word of your consent, and 'tis done; the 
 sweetness of your looks encourage me that you will 
 join pity with your beauty. There shall be nothing 
 wanting in me to demerit it ; and then, I hope, 
 although I am base, 
 
 Base in respect of you, divine and pure ; 
 Dutiful service may your love procure. 
 
 Lor. How now, signior 1 What, love and poetry ! 
 have they two found you out 1 Nay, then you must 
 conquer. Consider this, daughter ; shew thy 
 obedience to Phcebus and god Cupid : make an 
 humble proffer of thyself! 'twill be the more 
 acceptable and advance thy deserts. 
 
 Mm. Do, chicken, speak the word, and make 
 him happy in a minute ! 
 
 Lor. Well said, Avife, solicit in his behalf ! 'tis 
 well done — I am loth to importune her too much, 
 for fear of a repulse. 
 
 Mm. Marry come up, sir ! you are still usurping 
 in my company. Is this according to the articles
 
 THE ANTIQUARY. 
 
 propos'd between us, that I should bear rule and you 
 ■ v with silence 1 I had thought to have endeav- 
 our'dfor persuasion: bur. because you exhort me to 
 it, m desist from what I intended. I'll do nothing 
 but of my own accord, I. 
 
 Lor. Mum, wife ! I have done. Thus we that 
 are married must be subject to. 
 
 Moe. You give an ill example, Mistress ^Emilia ; 
 you give an example — ■ 
 
 Mm. What old fellow is this that talks so ? Do 
 yon know him, daughter .' 
 
 Moe. Have you so soon forgot me. lady i 
 
 Mm. Where has he had his breeding, I wonder! 
 He is the offspring of some peasant, sure ! Can he 
 shew any pedigre 
 
 L . Let her alone, there's no dealing with her. 
 Come, daughter ! let me hear yon answer to this 
 gentleman, 
 
 L <\ Truly, sir, 1 have endeavour'd all means 
 : ssible, and in a manner enforc'd myself to love 
 him. 
 
 . . Well said, girl. 
 
 Late. But could never effect it. 
 
 Lor. How ) 
 
 Luc. I have examined whatever might commend 
 a gentleman, both for his exterior and inward 
 abilities ; yet, amongst all that may speak him 
 worthy, I could never discern one good part or 
 quality to invite affection. 
 
 Lor. This is it I fear'd. Xow should I break 
 out into rage, but my wife and a foolish nature 
 withhold my passion. 
 
 Moe. I am undone, unspirited '. my hopes vain, 
 and my labours nullit: - 
 
 Lor. Where be your large vaunts now. signior .' 
 What strange tricks and devices you had to win a 
 woman '.
 
 THE ANTIQUARY. 281 
 
 Moc. Such assurance I conceiv'd of myself ; but, 
 when they affect wilful stubbornness, lock up their 
 ears, and will hearken to uo manner of persuasion, 
 what shall a man do i 
 
 Lor. l ou hear what taxes are laid upon you. 
 daughter : these are stains t>:> your other virtu- -. 
 
 Luc. Pray, sir, hear my defence ! What sym- 
 pathy can there be between our two aires. «v a_ 
 ment in our conditions ! But you"ll object he has 
 means. 'Tis confess'd ; but what assurance has 
 he to keep it \ Will it continue longer than the 
 law permits him possession, which will come like 
 a torrent and sweep away all ( He has made a 
 feiture of his whole estate. 
 
 Lor. What, are yon become a Statist's daughter, 
 or a prophetess ! Whence have you this intell- 
 igence ? 
 
 Moc I hope she will not betray me. 
 
 Luc. If rnurder can exact it. "tis absolutely lost 
 
 Lor. How. murder ? 
 
 Luc. Yes, he conspir'd the other day with a 
 bravo, a cut-throat, t<:> take away the life of a noble 
 innocent gentleman, which is s - vr'd by 
 
 miracle : the same that came with music to my 
 window. 
 
 Moc All's out : I'm ruin'd in her confession ! 
 That man that trusts woman with a privacy, and 
 hopes for silence, he may as well expect it at the 
 fall of a bridge.* A. secret with them is like a 
 viper : 'twill make way, though it eat through : 
 bowels of them. 
 
 L w. Take heed how you traduce a person of his 
 rank and eminency ! a soar in a mean man becomes 
 a wound in a greater. 
 
 At tbe fall of water through a bridge. The i 
 seems to be taken from the noisy situ..: .e houses for- 
 
 merly standing on London Bridge. S.
 
 282 THE ANTIQUARY. 
 
 Luc. There he is, question him ! and, if he deny 
 it, get him examined. 
 
 Lor. Why, signior, is this true 1 
 
 JEm. His silence bewrays him : 'tis so. 
 
 Moc. "lis so, that all women thirst man's over- 
 throw ; that's a principle as demonstrative as truth : 
 'tis the only end they were made for ; and when 
 they have once insinuated themselves into our 
 counsels, and gain'd the power of our life, the fire 
 is more merciful ; it burns within them till it get 
 forth. 
 
 Lor. I commend her for the discovery : 'twas not 
 fit her weak thoughts should be clogg'd with so 
 foul a matter. It had been to her like forc'd meat 
 to a surfeited stomach, that would have bred 
 nothing but crudities in her conscience. 
 
 Moc. Oh, my cursed fate ! shame and punishment 
 attend me ! they are the fruits of lust. Sir, all that 
 I did was for her ease and liberty. 
 
 Luc. Nay, sir, he was so impudent to be an 
 accessary. Who knows but he might as privately 
 have plotted to have sent me after him ; for how 
 should I have been secure of my life, when he made 
 no scruple to kill another upon so small an induce- 
 ment 1 
 
 JEm. Thou say'st right, daughter! thou shalt 
 utterly disclaim him. The cast of his eye shews he 
 was ever a knave. 
 
 Moc. How the scabs * descant upon me ! 
 
 Lor. What was the motive to this foul attempt ? 
 
 Luc. Why, sir, because he was an affectionate 
 lover of mine, and for no other vile reason in the 
 earth. 
 
 A^m. Oh mandrake ! was that all 1 He thought, 
 
 * Scab : — A paltry follow. " One of the usurers, a head man 
 <>f the city, took it in dudgeon to be ranked cheek by jowl, with 
 a scab of a carrier." — L 'Estrange.
 
 THE ANTIQUARY. 282> 
 
 belike, he should not have enough. Thou covetous 
 ingrosser of veneiy ! Why, one wife is .able to 
 content two husbands. 
 
 Moc. Sir, I am at your mercy; bid them not 
 insult upon me. I beseech you let me go as I came ! 
 
 Lor. Stay there ! I know not how I shall cen- 
 sure your escape, so I may be thought a party in 
 the business. 
 
 Luc. Besides, I hear since, that the mercenary 
 varlet that did it, though he be otherwise most des- 
 perate and hardened in such exploits, yet, out of 
 the apprehension of so unjust an act, and mov'd in 
 conscience for so foul a guilt, is grown distracted, 
 raves out of measure, confesses the deed, accuses 
 himself and the procurer, curses both, and will by 
 no means be quieted. 
 
 Lor. Where is that fellow 1 
 
 Luc. Sir, if you please to accompany me, I will 
 bring you to him, where your own eye and ear shall 
 witness the certainty ; and then, I hope, you will 
 repent that ever you sought to tie me to such a 
 monster as this, who preferr'd the heat of his de- 
 sires before all laws of nature or humanity. 
 
 Lor. Yes, that I will, and gratulate the subtlety 
 of thy will, and goodness of fate, that protected 
 thee from him. 
 
 jEm. Away with him, husband ! and be sure 
 to beg his lands betimes, before your Court-vultures 
 scent his carcase. 
 
 Lor. Well said, wife ! I should never have 
 thought on this now, an thou had'st not put me 
 in mind of it. Women, I see, have the only mascu- 
 line policy, and are the best solicitors and poli- 
 ticians of a State. But I'll first go see him my 
 daughter tells me of, that, when I am truby in- 
 formed of all, I may the better proceed in my ac- 
 cusation against them. Come along, sir !
 
 284 THE ANTIQUARY. 
 
 Moc. Well, if you are so violent, I'm as resolute : 
 'tis but a banging matter, and do your worst. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Enter Bravo and Boy. 
 
 Bra. What news, boy 1 
 
 Boy. Sir, Mistress Lucretia commends her to 
 you, and desires, as ever her persuasion wrought 
 upon you, or, as you affect her good, and would 
 add credit and belief to what she has reported, 
 tbat you would now strain your utmost to the 
 expression of what she and you consulted of. 
 
 Bra. I apprehend her : where is she 1 
 
 Bo j). Hard by, sir. Her father and the old for- 
 nicator Moccinigo, and I think her mother, are all 
 coming to be spectators of your strange behaviour. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Bra, Go wait them in 1 let me alone to personate 
 an ecstasy ;* I am near mad already, an I do not 
 fool myself quite into't, I care not. I'll withdraw 
 till they come. [Exit. 
 
 Enter Lorenzo, Moccinigo, ^Emilia, Lucretia, 
 
 and Boy. 
 
 Lor. Is this the place 1 
 
 Luc. Yes, sir. Where's your master, boy ] how 
 does he] 
 
 Boy. Oh, sweet mistress, quite distemper'd ! his 
 brains turn round like the needle of a dial, six 
 men's strength is not able to hold him; he was 
 bound with I know not how many cords this 
 morning, and broke them all.— See where he 
 
 '5> 
 
 enters ! 
 
 Now, see tbat noble and most sovereign reason, 
 Like sweet bells jangled out of tune and harsh, 
 That unmatch'd form, and feature of blown youth, 
 Blasted with ecstasy." — Shakespeare.
 
 THE ANTIQUARY. 285 
 
 Enter Bravo. 
 
 Bra. Why, if I kill'd him, what is that to thee ? 
 Was I not hir'd unto it 1 'twas not I, 
 But the base gold, that slew Sir Polydore :* 
 Then damn the money. 
 
 Lor. He begins to peach. 
 
 Mm. Will he do us no mischief, think you ? 
 
 Boy. Oh no, he is the best for that in his fits, 
 that e'er you knew. He hurts nobody. 
 
 Moc. But I am vilely afraid of him. 
 
 Boy. If you are a vile person, or have done any 
 great wickedness, you were best look to yourself ; 
 for those he knows by instinct, and assaults them 
 with as much violence as may be. 
 
 Moc. Then am I perish'd. Good sir, I had 
 rather answer the law than be terrified with his 
 looks. 
 
 Lor. Nay, you shall tarry, and take part with 
 us, by your favour. 
 
 Mm. How his eyes sparkle ! 
 
 Bra. Look where the ghost appears, his wounds 
 fresh bleeding ! 
 He frowns, and threatens me ; could the sub- 
 stance 
 Do nothing, and will shadows revenge ? 
 
 Lor. 'Tis strange ! 
 
 This was a fearful murder. 
 
 Bra. Do not stare so, 
 
 I can look big too ; all I did unto thee, 
 Twas by an instigation : 
 
 * Polydorus, a son of Priam, who sent him, at the commence- 
 ment of the siege of Troy, to the Court of Polynmestor, King 
 of Thrace, with a large sum of money and the" greater part of 
 the treasures of Troy. When Priam's death became known 
 in Thrace, Polymnestor took possession of these riches, which 
 had been entrusted to his care, after having assassinated 
 Polydorus, and thrown his body into the sea.
 
 286 THE ANTIQUARY. 
 
 There be some that are as deep in as myself; 
 Go, and fright them too ! 
 
 Moc. Beshrew him for his counsel ! 
 
 Lor. What a just judgment's here! 'Tis an old 
 saying 
 Murder will out ; and, 'fore it shall lye hid, 
 The authors will accuse themselves. 
 
 Bra. Mow he vanishes ! 
 
 Dost thou steal from me, fearful spirit 1 See 
 The print of his footsteps ! 
 
 Moc. That ever my lust should be the parent to 
 so foul a sin ! 
 
 Bra. He told me, that his horrid tragedy 
 Was acted over every night in hell, 
 Where sad Erinnys, with her venom'd face, 
 Black with the curls of snakes, sits a spectatrix, 
 That lift their speckled heads above their shoul- 
 ders, 
 And thrusting forth their stings, hiss at their en- 
 trance ; 
 And that serves for an applause. 
 
 Moc. How can you have the heart to look upon 
 him ? 
 Pray, let me go ! I feel a looseness in my belly. 
 
 Lor. Nay, you shall hear all out first. 
 
 Moc. I confess it ! 
 
 What would you have more of me '] 
 
 Bra. Then fierce Enyo holds a torch, Megsera 
 Another; I'll down and play my part amongst 
 
 them, 
 For I can do't to th' life. 
 
 Lor. Bather to the death. 
 
 Bra. I'll trace th' infernal theatre, and view 
 Those squalid actors, and the tragic pomp 
 Of hell and night. 
 
 Moc. How ghastly his words sound ! pray keep 
 him off from me.
 
 THE ANTIQUARY. 287 
 
 Lor. The guilt of conscience makes you fearful, 
 signior ! 
 
 Bra. When I come there, I'll chain up Cerberus, 
 Nay, I'll muzzle him ; I'll pull down ^Eacus 
 And Minos by the beard : then with my foot 
 I'll tumble Rhadamanthus from his chair, 
 And for the Furies, I'll not suffer them; 
 I'll be myself a Fury. 
 
 Moc. To vex me, I warrant you. 
 
 Bra. Next will I post unto the destinies, 
 Shiver their wheel and distaff 'gainst the wall, 
 And spoil their housewifery ; I'll take their spindle, 
 Where hang the threads of human life like beams 
 Drawn from the sun, and mix them altogether ; 
 Kings with the beggars. 
 
 Moc. Good sir, he comes towards me ! 
 
 Bra. That I could see that old fox, Moccinigo, 
 The villain that did tempt me to this deed ! 
 
 Moc. He names me too ; pray sir, stand between 
 us ! 
 Ladies, do you speak to him, I have not the faith. 
 
 JEm. What would you do with him, if you had 
 him? 
 
 Bra. I'd serve him worse than Hercules did 
 Lychas, 
 When he presented him the poison'd shirt, 
 Which when he had put on, and felt the smart, 
 He snatch' d him by the heels into the air, 
 Swung him some once or twice about his head, 
 Then shot him like a stone out of an engine, 
 Three furlongs length into the Euboic sea. 
 
 Lor. What a huge progress is that, for an old 
 lover to be carried ! 
 
 Bra. What's he that seeks to hide himself? 
 Come forth, 
 Thou mortal, thou art a traitor or a murderer 
 Oh, is it you?
 
 288 THE ANTIQUARY. 
 
 Moc. What will become of me 1 pray help me! 
 I shall be torn in pieces else. 
 
 Bra. You and 1 must walk together : come into 
 the middle ! yet further. 
 
 Enter Aurelio as an Officer, and two Servants. 
 
 Aw. Where be these fellows here that murder 
 men % Serjeants, apprehend them, and convey them 
 straight before the Duke. 
 
 Bra. Who are you 1 
 
 Aur. We are the Duke's officers. 
 
 Bra. The Duke's officers must be obey'd, take 
 heed of displeasing them. How majestically they 
 look! 
 
 Lor. You see, wife, the charm of authority ! an 
 a man be ne'er so wild it tames him presently. 
 
 JEm. Ay, husband, I know what will tame a man 
 besides authority. 
 
 Aur. Come, gentles, since you are altogether, I 
 must entreat your company along with us, to wit- 
 ness what you know in his behalf. 
 
 Lor. Sir, you have prevented us, for we intended 
 to have brought him ourselves before his Highness. 
 
 Aur. Then I hope your resolution will make it 
 the easier to you. What, sir, will you go willingly'? 
 
 Bra. Without all contradiction ; lead on ! 
 
 [Exeunt — -flourish. 
 
 Enter Lionell as the Duke : Duke, Petrutio, 
 Gasparo, Angelia as a woman. 
 
 Du. Come, signior ! 
 This is the morning must shine bright upon you, 
 Wherein preferment, that has slept obscure, 
 And all this while linger'd behind your wishes, 
 Shall overtake you in her greatest glories : 
 Ambition shall be weak to think the honours 
 Shall crown your worth.
 
 THE ANTIQUARY. 2Hd 
 
 Pet. Father, you hear all this 1 ? 
 
 Gas. I do with joy, son, and am ravish'd at it; 
 Therefore I have resign'd m' estate unto thee — 
 ( )nly reserving some tew crowns to live on — 
 Because I'd have thee to maintain thy part. 
 
 Pet. You did as you ought. 
 
 Gas. Tis enough for me 
 
 To be the parent of so blest an issue. 
 
 Pet. Nay, if you are so apprehensive, I am satis- 
 fied. 
 
 Lio. Is this the gentleman you so commended 1 
 
 Du. It is the same, my liege, whose royal vir- 
 tues 
 Fitting a Prince's Court, are the large field 
 For fame to triumph in. 
 
 Lio. So you inform'd me : 
 
 His face and carriage do import no less. 
 
 Du. Eeport abroad speaks him as liberally ; 
 And in my thoughts fortune deserves but ill 
 That she detain'd thus long her favours from him. 
 
 Lio. That will I make amends for. 
 
 Gas. Happy hour, 
 
 And happy me to see it ! Now, I perceive 
 He has more wit than myself. 
 
 Pet. What must I do 1 
 
 Du. What must you do % Go straight and kneel 
 before him, 
 And thank his Highness for his love. 
 
 Pet. I can't speak, 
 
 I am so overcome with sudden gladness ; 
 Yet I'll endeavour it. Most mighty Sovereign, 
 Thus low I bow in humble reverence, 
 To kiss the basis of your regal throne. 
 
 Lio. Eiae up ! 
 
 Pet. Your Grace's servant. 
 
 Lio. We admit you 
 
 Our nearest favourite in pi are and council. 
 
 T
 
 290 the antiquary; 
 
 Da. Go to, you arie made for ever ! 
 
 Pet. I'll find some office 
 
 To gratulate thy pains. 
 
 Lit). What was the cause 
 
 That you presented him no sooner to us? 
 We might have bred him up in our affairs. 
 And he have learnt the fashions of our Court, 
 Which might have rend'red him more active. 
 
 Da. D.oubt not 
 His ingenuity will soon instruct him. 
 
 Liu. Then, to confirm him deeper in our friend 
 ship, 
 We here assign our sister for his wife. 
 What ! is he bashful 1 
 
 Pet. Speaks your Grace in earnest 1 
 
 Lio. What else i I'll have it so. 
 
 Du. Why do you not step and take her ] 
 
 I'd. Is't not a kind of treason % 
 
 Du. Not if he bid you. 
 
 Pet. Divinest lady, are you so content ? 
 
 Antj. What my brother commands I must obey. 
 
 Lio. Join hands together ! be wise, and use 
 Your dignities with a due reverence. 
 Tiberius Caesar joy'd not in the birth 
 Of great Sejanus' fortunes with that zeal 
 As I shall to have rais'd you ; though I hope 
 A different fate attends you. 
 
 Du. Go to the church ! 
 
 Perform your rites there, and return again 
 As fast as you can. 
 
 Gas. I could e'en expire 
 
 With contemplation of his happiness. 
 
 Lio. "\\ nat old man's that '1 
 
 Pet. This is my father, sir. 
 
 Lio. Your own father ( 
 
 Gas. So please your Grace. 
 
 Lio. Give him a pair
 
 mi: ANTIQUARY. 201 
 
 Of velvet breeches, from our grandsiro's wardrobe. 
 Gas. Thrice noble Duke ! Come, sun. let's to 
 the church. 
 
 [Exeunt Petrutio, Gasparo, and Angelia. 
 
 Enter Antiquary and Petro. 
 
 [Jo. How now ! what new-come pageant have 
 we here 1 ? 
 
 l)u. This is the famous Antiquary I told your 
 Grace of, a man worthy your grace ; the Janus of 
 our age, and treasurer of times past : a man worthy 
 your bounteous favour and kind notice; that will 
 as soon forget himself in the remembrance of your 
 Highness, as any subject you have. 
 
 Lio. How comes he so accoutred 1 ! 
 
 Du. No miracle at all, sir ; for, as you have 
 many fools in the habit of a wise man, so have 
 you sometimes a wise man in the habit of a fool. 
 
 Ant. Sir, I have been grossly abus'd, as no 
 story, record, or chronicle, can parallel the like, 
 and I come here for redress. I hear your Highness 
 loves me, and indeed you are partly interest in 
 the cause, for I, having took somewhat a large 
 potion for your Grace's health, fell asleep, when 
 in the interim they apparell'd me as you see, made 
 a fool, or an asinigo * of me ; and for my boy here, 
 they cogg'd him out of his proper shape into the 
 habit of an Amazon, to wait upon me. 
 
 Lio. But who did this 1 
 
 Ant. Nay, sir, that I cannot tell, but desire 
 it may be found out. 
 
 * Assinego. A Portuguese word, meamnsr a young ass. 
 Hence applied to a silly fellow, a fool. Shakespeare has the 
 word in Troilus and Cressida, ii. 1, and it is not unfrequently 
 found in the Elizabethan writers as a term of reproach, Ben 
 Jonson, in his Expostulation with Inigo Jones, makes a severe 
 pun on his name, telling him he was an ass-iniffo to judge by his 
 ears. — Halliwell.
 
 292 THE ANTIQUARY. 
 
 Du. Well, signior, if you knew all, you have no 
 cause to be angry. 
 
 Ant. How so ? 
 
 Du. Why, that same coat you wear did for- 
 merly belong unto Pantolabus the Roman jester, 
 and buffoon to Augustus Caesar. 
 
 Ant. An I thought so I'd ne'er put it off while 
 I breath'd. 
 
 Lio. Stand by ! we'll enquire further anon. 
 
 Enter Aurelio, Lorenzo, Moocinigo, Bravo, 
 ^Emilia, Lucretia, Officers. 
 
 Now, who are you ? 
 
 Aur. Your Highness' officers. 
 
 We have brought two murderers here to be cen- 
 sured, 
 Who by their own confession are found guilty, 
 And need no further trial. 
 
 Lio. Which be the parties 1 
 
 Aur. These, and please you. 
 
 Lio. Well, what do you answer ? 
 
 What can you plead to stop the course of justice 1 
 
 Moc. For my part, tho' I had no conscience to 
 act it, 
 I have not the heart to deny it ; and therefore 
 
 expect 
 Your sentence. For mercy I hope none, nor favour. 
 
 Lio. What says th' accuser 1 
 
 Luc. Please your Princely wisdom, 
 He slew a man was destin'd for my husband ; 
 Yet, since another's death caunot recall him, 
 Were the law satisfied, and he adjudg'd 
 To have his goods confiscate, for my own part, 
 I could rest well content. 
 
 Moc. With all my heart ; 
 
 I' yield possession to whomsoe'er 
 She shall choose for a husband. Reach a paper
 
 THE ANTIQUARY. 293 
 
 Or blank, I'll seal to it. 
 
 Lite. See, there's a writing ! 
 
 Moc. And there's my hand to it : 
 I care not what the conditions be. 
 
 Lio. Tis well ! whom will you choose in place 
 of the other 1 
 
 Lnc. Then, sir, to keep his memory alive, 
 I'll seek no further than this officer. 
 
 Lor. How, choose a common serjeant for her 
 husband ! 
 
 JEm. A base commendadore 1 I'll ne'er endure 
 it! 
 
 Aur. No, lady, a gentleman I assure you, and 
 Suppos'd the slain Aurelio. [Discovers himself. 
 
 Mac. A plot, a plot upon me ! I'll revoke it all. 
 
 Lio. Nay, that you cannot, now you have con- 
 firm'd it. 
 
 Moc. Am I then cheated 1 I'll go home and die, 
 To avoid shame, not live in infamy. [Lixit. 
 
 Lio. What says the villain Bravo for himself? 
 
 Bra. The Bravo, sir, is honest, and his father. 
 
 Aur. My father 1 bless me, how comes this 
 about 1 
 
 Bret. That virtuous maid, whom I must always 
 honour, 
 Acquainted me with that old lecher's drift : 
 I, to prevent the ruin of my son, 
 Conceal'd from all, proffer'd my service to him 
 In this disguise. 
 
 Lio. 'Twas a wise and pious deed. 
 
 Enter Petrtjtio, Angelia, and Gasparo. 
 
 Pet. Boom for the Duke's kindred ! 
 Lio. What, you are married. I perceive. 
 Pet. I am, royal brother. 
 
 Lio. Then, for your better learning in our 
 service,
 
 294 THE ANTIQUARY. 
 
 Take these instructions. — Never hereafter 
 Contemn a man that has more wit than yourself, 
 Or foolishly conceive no lady's merit 
 Or beauty worthy your affection, 
 Pet. How's this 1 
 
 Lio. Truth, my most honour'd brother, you are 
 gull'd ; 
 So is my reverend uncle, the Antiquary, 
 So are you all ; for he that you conceiv'd 
 The Duke, is your friend and Lionel 1 ; 
 Look you else. 
 
 Pet. 'Tis so. 
 
 Gas. 'Tis too apparent true. 
 
 Lio. What, all drunk 1 Speak, uncle ! 
 Ant. Thou art my nephew ! 
 And thou hast wit, 'tis lit thou should' st have land 
 
 too. 
 Tell me no more how thou hast cheated me, 
 I do perceive it, and forgive thee for 't ; 
 Thou shalt have all I have, and I'll be wiser. 
 
 Lio. I thank you, sir. Brother Petrutio, 
 This to your comfort ; that is my sister, 
 Whom formerly you did abuse in love, 
 And you may be glad your lot is no worse. 
 
 Pet. I am contented ; I'll give a good Wit 
 Leave to abuse me at any time. 
 Lor. When he cannot help it. 
 Gas. This 'tis 
 
 To be so politic and ambitious, son. 
 
 Pet. Nay, father, do not you aggravate it too. 
 Lor. Well, signior, 
 You must pardon me, if I bid joy to you ; 
 My daughter was not good enough for you. 
 Pet. You are tyrannous. 
 
 Enter Leonardo. 
 Leo. Save you, Gallants !
 
 THE ANTIQUARY. 295 
 
 Lio. \ on are very welcome. 
 
 Leo. I come in quest of our noble Duke, 
 
 Who from his Court lias stol'n out privately, 
 And 'tis reported he is here. 
 
 Lio. No indeed, sir, 
 
 He is not here. 'Slight, we shall he question'd 
 For counterfeiting his person. 
 
 Du. Be not dismay 'd, 
 
 I am the Duke ! 
 
 Leo. My lord 1 
 
 Du. The very same, sir, 
 
 That for my recreation have descended, 
 And no impeach, I hope, to royalty, — 
 To sit spectator of your mirth. And thus much 
 You shall gain hy my presence ; what is past, 
 I'll see it ratified as firm as if 
 Myself and Senate had concluded it. 
 And when a Prince allows his subjects sport, 
 He that pines at it let him perish for 't. 
 
 I-TN1S. 
 
 ,1 i;m;i II \ SI) Sl'KAKS, I'iSINTEKS, I I > I N 1. 1 liUII.
 
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