^- ^ 
 
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 Southern Branch 
 
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 University of California ? 
 
 Los Angeles "^B / 
 
 i orm L I 
 
 ^ :5i
 
 SOUTHERN BRANCH, 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA. 
 
 iJOa ANGELES, CALiF,
 
 THE 
 
 DRAMATIC WORKS 
 
 OF 
 
 JOHN FORD. 
 
 WITH AN 
 
 INTRODUCTION AND EXPLANATORY NOTES, 
 
 BY 
 
 HENRY WEBER, ESQ. 
 
 VOLUME IL 
 
 EDINBURGH : 
 
 Printed by George Ramsay if Company ^ 
 
 FOR ARCHIBALD CONSTABLE AND COMPANY, EDINBURGH; 
 
 AND LONGMAN, HURST, REES, ORME, AND BROWN, 
 
 WILLIAM MILLER, AND JOHN MURRAY, 
 
 LONDON. 
 
 1811. 
 
 57017
 
 TK - 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 OF 
 
 VOLUME II. 
 
 Perkin Warbeck, - - , Page 1 
 
 The Fancies, Chaste and Noble, . - 111 
 
 The Lady's Trial, - - - 219 
 
 The Sun's Darling, by Ford and Dekkar, - 319 
 
 The Witch of Edmonton, by Rowley, Dekkar, Ford, &c. 397 
 Glossarial Index, - - - - 499
 
 PERKIN WARBECK. 
 
 VOL. ir.
 
 PERKIN WARBECK. 
 
 The entire title of the old quarto of this historical play is the 
 following : " The Chronicle Historic of Perkin Warbcck. A 
 strange trcith. Acted (some times) by the Queenes Majesties 
 Servants at the Phoenix in Drurie-lane. Fide Honor. London, 
 printed by T. P. for Hugh Oeeston, and are to be sold at his 
 shop, neere the Castle in Cornehill, 1634." In 1715 it was re- 
 printed in octavo, to serve in the list of antidotes to the rebellion 
 of that year, but was not then acted. In 1745, still greater ex- 
 ertions were made to draw a parallel between the mock Duke of 
 York and the unfortunate Charles Edward. " There are now," 
 says Oldys in his MS. notes to Ijangbaine, '* in December 1745,' 
 on occasion of the present rebellion under the Pretender's eldest 
 son, two plays, near finished, on this story of Perkin Warbeck, 
 one by Charles Macklin the i)layer, the other by Mr Joseph El- 
 dertoa a young attorney ; the former for Drury-Lane, the latter 
 at Covent-Garden, but this play of John Ford's has got the 
 start of them at Goodman's Fields. Macklin's was a silly per- 
 formance, and was soon dismissed, he being twenty pounds out 
 of pocket by acting it, yet got it printed. Elder ton's Avas not 
 finished before it was too late in the season to act it, and when 
 the rebellion was suppressed in the field, it was thought unrea- 
 sonable to revive it on the stage. Macklin's was called by the 
 foolish title of King Henry Vll., or the Popish Impostor, popery 
 being looked on as no objection in that reign. Elderton's was 
 called, The Pretender." The latter play was never printed, and 
 is not noticed in the Biographia Draniatica. With regard to 
 Macklin's, the author of that work excuses its imperfections by 
 informing us, " that it was the six weeks labour only of an 
 actor, who, even in that short space, was often called from it 
 by his profession ; and that the players, for the sake of dis- 
 patch, had it to study act by act, just as it was blotted ; and 
 that the only revisals it received from the brouillou to the press, 
 were at the rehearsals of it." 
 
 Ford's play is founded upon the chronicles of the reign of 
 Henry VII., and particularly upon the history of that monarch 
 by the celebrated liord Bacon, hs appears from the beginning of
 
 4 PERKIN WARBECK. 
 
 the following dedication. To the old quarto, five copies of re. 
 commendatory verses are prefixed, which will be found in the 
 First Volume. The excellence of the piece must have insured it 
 good reception, and the praises of such a man as Dr Donne were 
 certainly not misapplied, though, from the words in the title, 
 page, " acted some times," we cannot infer that it obtained 
 great popularity. The word may, however, be used in the very 
 common sense of formerly^ and, in this case, the play was pro- 
 bably produced a considerable time before it was printed.
 
 
 TO 
 THE RIGHT HONOURABLE 
 
 WILLIAM CAVENDISH, 
 
 EARL OF NEWCASTLE, VISCOUNT MANSFIELD, 
 LORD BOLSOVER AND OGLE* 
 
 MY LORD, 
 
 Out of the darkness of a former age, (enlightened 
 by a late both learned and an honourable pen ]-), 
 I have endeavoured to personate a great attempt, 
 and in it, a greater danger. In other labours you 
 
 * This accomplished nobleman was born in the year 1 592, and 
 was early in favour with James L, by whom he was made a 
 knight of the Bath in 1610, and created a peer by the title of 
 Baron Ogle and Viscount Mansfield in 1623. He continued in 
 favour with Charles I., who created him Earl of Newcastle-up- 
 on-Tyne, and, in 1638, assigned him the office of governor to 
 the Prince of Wales. His exertions in favour of the royal cause 
 during the rebellion are too well known to require any notice in 
 this place. He was created Duke of Newcastle in 1664, and 
 died twelve years after, at the advanced age of 84, loaded with ho- 
 nours. He was not only a patron of playwrights, but also con- 
 descended to cultivate the dramatic muse himself, having produ- 
 ced four comedies. But his lady exceeded him in the fertility of 
 her imagination, having left to the world not less than twenty- 
 seven dramatic performances. 
 
 + Alluding to the History of King Henry VII. by the great 
 Lord Bacon.
 
 6 DEDICATION. 
 
 may read actions of antiquity discoursed ; in this 
 abridgement, find the actors themselves discour- 
 sing; in some kind practised as well ichat to speak, 
 as speaking why to do. Your lordship is a most 
 competent judge, in expressions of such credit ; 
 commissioned by your known ability in examining, 
 and enabled by your knowledge in determining, the 
 monuments of times. Eminent titles may, indeed, 
 inform who their owners are, not often what. To 
 your's the addition of that information in both, 
 cannot in any application be observed flattery ; the 
 authority being established by truth. 1 can only 
 acknowledge the errours in writing mine own ; the 
 worthiness of the subject written being a perfection 
 in the story, and of it. The custom of your lord- 
 ship's entertainments (even to strangers) is rather 
 an example than a fashion : in which consideration 
 I dare not profess a curiosity ; but am only studi- 
 ous that your lordship will please, amongst such as 
 best honour your goodness, to admit into your no- 
 ble construction, 
 
 John Ford,
 
 PROLOGUE. 
 
 Studies have, of this nature, been of late 
 
 So out of fashion, so unfoHowed, that 
 
 It is become more justice, to revive 
 
 The antic follies of the times, than strive 
 
 To countenance wise industry : no want 
 
 Of art doth render wit, or lame, or scaiif. 
 
 Or slothful, in the purchase of fresh bays ; 
 
 But want of truth in them who give the praise 
 
 To their self-lovtf, presuming to out-do 
 
 The writer, or (for need) the actors too. 
 
 liut such this author's Kilencc best belits, 
 
 Who bids them be in love with their own wit.. 
 
 From him, to clearer jtidgmeiits, we van say 
 
 He shows a history, couchi d in a play ; 
 
 A history of noble uiention, known. 
 
 Famous, and true: most noble, 'cause our owu ; 
 
 Not forged from Italy, from France, from Spain, 
 
 But chronicled at home ; as rich in strain 
 
 Of brave attempts, as ever fertile rage 
 
 In action could beget to grace the stage. 
 
 We cannot limit scenes, for the whole land 
 
 Itself appeared too narrow to withstand 
 
 Comjietitors for kingdoms : nor is here 
 
 Unnecessary mirth forced, to endear 
 
 A multitude : on these two rests the fate 
 
 Of worthy ejcpi^ctatiou, truth and state.
 
 DRAMATIS PERSONiE. 
 
 Henry VII., King of England. 
 
 Lord Dawbeney. 
 
 Sir William Stanley, Lord Chamberlain, 
 
 Earl of Oxford. 
 
 Earl of Surrey. 
 
 Fox, Bishop of Durham. 
 
 Urswick, Chaplain to the King. 
 
 Sir Robert Clifford. 
 
 Lambert Simnell. 
 
 Hi A las, a Spanish Agent. 
 
 James IV., King of Scotland. 
 Earl of Huntley. 
 -Ear/ o/" Crawford. 
 Lord Dalyell. 
 Marchmont, a Herald. 
 
 Perkin Warbeck. 
 Stephen Frion, his Secretarjf. 
 John A- Water, Mayor of Cork. 
 Heron, a mercer, 
 Sketon, a tailor. 
 Astley, a scrivener.
 
 10 DBAMATIS persona:. 
 
 fVomen. 
 
 Lady Katherine Gordon, wife to Perkin. 
 
 Countess o/" Crawford. 
 
 Jane Douglas, Lady Katherine's niald. 
 
 Sheriff, Constable, Oncers, Serving-men., Masquers, 
 and Soldiers. 
 
 Scene, Great Britaio.
 
 PERKIN WARBECK. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE I. Westminster. The Royal Presence- 
 Chamber, 
 
 Enter King Henry, supported to the Throne hy the 
 Bishop cf Durham and Sir William Stan- 
 ley. flr/ o/* Oxford, ar/ q/" Surrey, and 
 Lord Dawbeny in the train. A Guard. 
 
 K. Hen. Still to be haunted, still to be pursued, 
 Still to be frighted with talse apparitions 
 Of pageant majesty, and new-coin'd greatness, 
 As if we were a mockery king in state, 
 Only ordain*d to lavish sweat and blood, 
 In scorn and laughter to the ghosts of York, 
 Is all below our merits : Yet, my lords. 
 My friends and counsellors, yet we sit fast 
 In our own royal birth-right ; the rent face 
 And bleeding wounds of England's slaughtered 
 
 people, 
 Have been by us, as by the best physician. 
 At once both th' roughly cur*d, and set in^ s,afety ;
 
 12 PERKIN WARBECK. ACT I. 
 
 And yet, for all this glorious work of peace, 
 Ourself is scarce secure. 
 
 Dur. The rage of malice 
 
 Conjures fresh spirits with the spells of York ; 
 For ninety years ten English kings and princes, 
 Threescore great dukes and earls, a thousand lords 
 And valiant knights, two hundred fifty thousand 
 Of English subjects have, in civil wars, 
 Been sacrific'd to an uncivil thirst 
 Of discord and ambition : this hot vengeance 
 Of the just powers above, to utter ruin 
 And desolation, had reign'd on, but that 
 Mercy did gently sheath the sword of justice 
 In sending to this blood-shrunk commonwealth 
 A new soul, new birth, in your sacred person. 
 
 Daw. Edward the Fourth, after a doubtful fortune. 
 Yielded to nature, leaving to his sons, 
 Edward and Richard, the inheritance 
 Of a most bloody purchase ; these young princes 
 Richard the tyrant, their unnatural uncle. 
 Forced to a violent grave ; so just is Heaven. 
 Him hath your majesty, by your own arm. 
 Divinely strengthen'd, pull a from his boar's sty 
 And struck the black usurper to a carcase : 
 Nor doth the house of York decay in honours, 
 The* Lancaster doth repossess his right ; 
 For Edward's daughter is king Henry's queen : 
 A blessed union, and a lasting blessing 
 For this poor panting island, if some shreds, 
 Some useless remnant of the house of York 
 Grudge not at this content. 
 
 Oxf. Margaret of Burgundy 
 
 Blows fresh coals of division. 
 
 Sur. Painted fires 
 
 Without or heat to scorch, or light to cherish *. 
 
 Painledjtres, zcUhout or heat to scorchf or light to cherish.']
 
 SCENE I. PERKIN WARBECK. 13 
 
 Daw. York's headless trunk, her father ; Ed- 
 ward's fate, 
 Her brother king; the smothering of her nephews 
 By tyrant Gloster, brother to her nature ; 
 Nor Gloster's own confusion, (all decrees 
 Sacred in heaven) can move this woman-monster. 
 But that she still, from the unbottom'd mine 
 Of devilish policies, doth vent the ore 
 Of troubles and seditions. 
 
 Oxf. In her age, 
 
 Great sir, observe the wonder, she grows fruitful. 
 Who, in her strength of youth, was always barren : 
 Nor are her birth as other mothers' are. 
 At nine or ten months' end ; she has been with 
 
 child 
 Eight or seven years at least ; whose twins being 
 
 born, 
 A prodigy in nature, even the youngest 
 Is fifteen years of age at his first entrance, 
 As soon as known i'th' world, tall striplings, strong 
 And able to give battle unto kings : 
 Idols of Yorkish malice. 
 
 Dur. And but idols ; 
 
 A steely hammer crushes them to pieces '. 
 
 K. Hen. Lambert, the eldest, lords, is in our ser- 
 vice, 
 Preferr'd by an officious care of duty 
 From the scullery to a falconer ; strange example ! 
 Which shews the diflTerence between noble natures 
 And the base-born : but for the upstart duke, 
 The new reviv'd York, Edward's second son, 
 
 Fires merely painted, having neither heat to scorch enemies nor 
 light to cherish friends. The old copy is unintelligible in this 
 passage, by reading corruptcdly, Without to heat or scorch. 
 
 ^ This speech is given to Oxford as well as the former in the 
 original. It may be applied to any of the other lords present. I 
 have given it to the bishop of Durham.
 
 14 PEHKIN WARBECK. ACT. I. 
 
 Murder'd long since i* th' Tower ; he lives again, 
 And vows to be your king. 
 
 Stan, The throne is fill'd, sir. 
 
 K. Hen. True, Stanley ; and the lawful heir sits 
 on it; 
 A guard of angels, and the holy prayers 
 Of loyal subjects are a sure defence 
 Against all force and counsel of intrusion. 
 But now, my lords, put case, some of our nobles. 
 Our great ones, should give countenance and cou- 
 
 rao:e 
 To trim duke Perkin; will you all confess 
 Our bounties have unthriftily been scatter'd 
 Amongst unthankful men. 
 
 Daw. Unthankful beasts, 
 
 Dogs, villains, traitors ! 
 
 K. Hen. Dawbeny, let the guilty 
 
 Keep silence ; I accuse none, tho* 1 know 
 Foreign attempts against a state and kingdom. 
 Are seldom without some great friends at home. 
 
 Stan. Sir, if no other abler reasons else 
 Of duty or allegiance could divert 
 A headstrong resolution, yet the dangers 
 So lately past by men of blood and fortunes 
 In Lambert Simnel's party, must command 
 More than a fear, a terror to conspiracy. 
 The high-born Lincoln, son to De la Pole, 
 The earl of Kildarc, lord Geraldine, 
 Francis lord Lovell, and the German baron. 
 Bold Martin Swart', with Broughton and the rest, 
 (Most spectacles of ruin, some of mercy), 
 Are precedents sufficient to forewarn 
 The present times, or any that live in them, 
 
 ' Martin Sicart.'] A celebrated German soldier of fortune 
 in the time of Henry VII. frequently alluded to in old poetry. 
 A play was produced in the seventeenth century, cclet)rating his 
 action*). 
 
 10
 
 SCENE I. PERKIN WARBECK. l5 
 
 What folly, nay, what madness 'twere to lift 
 A finger up in all defence but your*s, 
 Which can be but impostorous in a title. 
 
 K. Hen. Stanley, we know thou lov'st us, and 
 thy heart 
 Is figur'd on thy tongue ; nor think we less 
 Of any's' here. How closely we have hunted 
 This cub (since he unlodg'd) from hole to hole, 
 Your knowledge is our chronicle: first Ireland, 
 The common stage of novelty, presented 
 This gewgaw to oppose us, there the Geraldines 
 And Butlers once again stood in support 
 Of this colossic statue : Charles of France, 
 Thence call'd. him into his protection ; 
 Dissembled him the lawful heir of England ; 
 Yet this was all but French dissimulation. 
 Aiming at peace with us, which, being granted 
 On honourable terms on our part, suddenly 
 This smoke of straw was packM from France again, 
 T* infect some grosser air : and now we learn 
 (Maugre the malice of the bastard Nevill, 
 Sir Taylor, arid a hundred English rebels) 
 They're all retir'd to Flanders, to the dam 
 That nurs'd this eager whelp, Margaret of Bur- 
 gundy. 
 But we will hunt him there too, we will hunt him. 
 Hunt him to death, even in the beldam's closet. 
 Tho' the archduke were his buckler. 
 
 Sur. She has styl'd him, 
 
 " The fair white rose of England." 
 
 Daw. Jolly gentleman. 
 
 More fit to be a swabber* to the Flemish, 
 After a drunken surfeit. 
 
 * Of any^s here.'\ Of the heart or affection of any one pre- 
 sent. The phraseology is very incorrect. 
 
 * Sicabber.l A sea- term for the boy who sweeps the dck.<!,
 
 16 PERKIN WARBECK. ACT I. 
 
 Enter Urswick. 
 
 Urs. Gracious sovereign, 
 
 'Please you peruse this paper. [The King reads, 
 
 Dur. The king's countenance 
 
 Gathers a sprightly blood. 
 
 Daio. Good news ; believe it. 
 
 K Hen. Urswick, thine ear. Thou hast lodged 
 him? 
 
 Urs. Strongly safe, sir. 
 
 K. Hen. Enough, is Barly come too? 
 
 Urs. No, my lord. 
 
 K. Hen. No matter. Phew ! he's but a running 
 weed, 
 At pleasure to be pluck'd up by the roots; 
 But more of this anon. I have bethought me. 
 My lords, for reasons which you shall partake, 
 It is our pleasure to remove our court 
 From Westminster to the Tower : We will lodge 
 This very night there ; give, lord chamberlain, 
 A present order for it. 
 
 Stan. The Tower ? 1 shall sir. 
 
 K. Hen. Come, my true, best, fast friends, these 
 clouds will vanish : 
 The sun will shine at full : the heavens are clear- 
 ing. [Exeunt. 
 
 the most menial occuiiation oii board. The allusion in the icxi 
 u too obvious^ and too filthy to require further elucidation.
 
 SCENE II. PERKIN WARBECK. 17 
 
 SCENE II. Edinburgh. The royal Palace. 
 A Flourish. 
 
 Enter Huntley and Dalyell. 
 
 Hunt. You trifle time, sir. 
 
 Dal. Oh, my noble lord, 
 
 You construe my griefs to so hard a sense, 
 That where the text is argument of pity, 
 Matter of earnest love, your gloss corrupts it 
 With too much ill-plac*d mirth. 
 
 Hunt. Much mirth, lord Dalyell ? 
 
 Not so, I vow. Observe me, sprightly gallant : 
 I know thou art a noble lad, a handsome, 
 Descended from an honourable ancestry, 
 Forward and active, dost resolve to wrestle, 
 And ruffle in the world by noble actions, 
 For a brave mention to posterity. 
 1 scorn not thy affection to my daughter : 
 Not I, by good Saint Andrew ; but this bugbear. 
 This whoreson tale of honour, honour, Dalyell ! 
 So hourly chats and tattles in mine ear, 
 The piece of royalty that is stitch'd up 
 In my Kate's blood', that 'tis as dangerous 
 
 ' George Gordon, second carl of Huntley, married Jane 
 Stuart, daughter of King James I. Ratherine, M'ho, by the 
 consent of the king and parliament of Scotland, married Perkia 
 "VVarbeck, the pretended Richard, Duke of York, was his eldest 
 daughter. Sir Robert Gordon, in his Genealogy of the House of 
 Sutherland, thus relates her future fortunes : " She went into 
 England with her husband Richard, whom the English histories 
 do call a counterlitt, and whom in all her fortunes she tntirlic 
 Joved, adding the vertues of a wyff unto the vertues of her sex, as 
 sayeth the viscount of St Albane, in his historie of King Henrie 
 the Seavinth of England. After her husband's taking out of the 
 sanctuarie at Beauly in the New-Forrest, in England, shoe wes 
 
 VOL. II. B
 
 18 PERKIN WARBECK. ACT I. 
 
 For thee, young lord, to perch so near an eaglet, 
 As foolish for my gravity to admit it : 
 1 have spoke all at once. 
 
 Dal. Sir, with this truth. 
 
 You mix such wormwood, that you leave no hope 
 For my disorder'd palate, e^cr to relish 
 A wholesome taste again. Alas ! I know, sir. 
 What an unequal distance lies between 
 Gre^t Huntley's daughter's birth and Dalyell's for- 
 tunes. 
 She's the king's kinswoman, plac'd near the crown, 
 A princess of the blood, and 1 a subject. 
 
 Hunt. Right, but a noble subject, put in that 
 too. 
 
 Dal. I could add more ; and in the highest line. 
 Derive my pedigree from Adam iSlure, 
 A Scottish knight ; whose daughter was the mo- 
 ther 
 To him who first begot the race of Jameses, 
 That sway the sceptre to this very day. 
 But kindreds are not ours, when once the date 
 Of many years have swallow'd up the memory 
 Of their originals ; so pasture-fields, 
 ^Neighbouring too near the ocean, are supp'd up 
 And known no more : for stood 1 in my iirst 
 And native greatness, if my princely mistress 
 
 hrought from St Michael's Mount, in Cornuall, and dciyvered to 
 King ilcnrio the Scaventh, who iiitcrtayned her honorablic, and 
 for her better niantonance, according to her birth and vertue, did 
 assignc vnto her good lands and rents for all the daycs of her lyflT. 
 After the death of her husband Richard, shoe mareid Sir Mathio 
 Cradock, (a man of great power at that tynic in Claniorganshyre, 
 in Wales), of the which mariage is descended this William, Earls 
 of Pembroke, by liis grandmother, and had some lands by inhe- 
 ritance from the Cradockes. Lady Katheren Gordon died in 
 Wales, and was buried in a chappcll at one of the YatXc of Pem- 
 brok his dwelling-places in that cuntrey. The Englcsh histories 
 doc much coroiuend her for her beauty, comliness, and chastctie."
 
 SCENE II. PERKIN WARBECK. 19 
 
 Vouchsafed me not her servant, 'twere as good 
 I were reduced to clownery, to nothing. 
 As to a throne of wonder. 
 
 Hunt, (apart.) Now, by Saint Andrew, 
 
 A spark of metal ! he has a brave fire in him. 
 I would he had my daughter so I knew*t not. 
 But 'tmust not be so, must not. Well, young lord. 
 This will not do yet, if the girl be headstrong, 
 And will not hearken to good counsel, steal her, 
 And run away with her; dance galliards, do. 
 And frisk about the world to learn the languages : 
 'Twill be a thriving trade ; you may set up by't. 
 
 Dal. With pardon, noble Gordon, this disdain 
 Suits not your daughter's virtue, or my constancy. 
 
 Hunt. You're angry .^ 'Would he would beat 
 me, 1 deserve it. [Aside. 
 
 Dalyell, thy hand, we're friends : follow thy court- 
 ship ; 
 Take thine own time and speak ; if thou prevail'st 
 With passion, more than I can with my counsel, , 
 She's thine ; nay, she is thine ; 'tis a fair match, 
 Free and allowed. I'll only use my tongue. 
 Without a father's power; use thou thine : 
 Self do, self have. No more words; win and wear 
 her. 
 
 Dal. You bless me ; I am now too poor in thanks 
 To pay the debt I owe you. 
 
 Hunt. Nay, thou'rt poor enough. 
 
 I love his spirit infinitely. Look ye. 
 She comes : to her now, to her, to her ! 
 
 Enter Katherine and Jane. 
 
 Kath. The king commands your presence, sir. 
 
 Hunt. The gallant- 
 
 This, this, this lord, this servant, Kate, of yours 
 Desires to be your master.
 
 20 PERKIN WARBECK. ACT I. 
 
 Kath. I acknowledge him 
 
 A worthy friend of mine. 
 
 DaL Your humblest creature. 
 
 Hunt. So, so ; the game's a-foot, Tm in cold 
 hunting, 
 The hare and hounds are parties. [Aside. 
 
 Dal. Princely lady. 
 
 How most unworthy am I to employ 
 My services, in honour of your virtues, 
 How hopeless my desires are to enjoy 
 Your fair opinion, and much more your love ; 
 Are only matters of despair, unless 
 Your goodness gives large warrants to my boldness, 
 My feeble-wing*d ambition. 
 
 Hunt. (Aside.) This is scurvy. 
 
 Kath. My lord, I interrupt you not. 
 Hunt. (Aside.) Indeed ! 
 
 Now on my life she'll court him. Nay, nay, on sir. 
 Dal. Oft have 1 tun*d the lesson of my sorrows 
 To sweeten discord, and enrich your pity ; 
 But all in vain ; here had my comforts sunk 
 And never ris*n again, to tell a story 
 Of the despairing lover, had not now, 
 
 Even now, the earl your father 
 
 Hunt. (Aside.) He means me sure. 
 
 Dal. After some fit disputes of your condition, 
 Your highness and my lowness, giv'n a licence 
 \Vhich did not more embolden, than encourage 
 My falt'ring tongue. 
 
 Hunt. How! how? how *s that ? 
 
 Kmbolden \ encourage ? 1 encourage ye, d'ye 
 
 hear, sir 1 
 A subtle trick, a quaint one. Will you hear, manl 
 What did 1 say to you ? Come, come, to th' point. 
 Kath. It shall not need my lord. 
 Hunt. Then hear me, Kate !- 
 
 Keep you on that hand of her ; 1 on this
 
 SCENE II. PERKIN WARBECK. 21 
 
 Thou stand'st between a father and a suitor, 
 Both striving for an interest in thy heart : 
 He courts thee for affection, I for duty ; 
 He as a servant pleads, but by the privilege 
 Of nature, tho' I might command, my care 
 Shall only counsel what it shall not force. 
 Thou canst but make one choice ; the ties of mar- 
 riage 
 Are tenures, not at will, but during life. 
 Consider whose thou art, and who ; a princess, 
 A princess of the royal blood of Scotland, 
 In the full spring of youth, and fresh in beauty. 
 The king that sits upon the throne is young. 
 And yet unmarried, forward in attempts 
 On any least occasion, to endanger 
 His person ; wherefore, Kate, as I am confident 
 Thou dar'st not wrong thy birth and education 
 By yielding to a common servile rage 
 Of female wantonness, so 1 am confident 
 Thou wilt proportion all thy thoughts to side' 
 Thy equals, if not equal thy superiors. 
 My lord of Dalyell, young in years, is old 
 In honours, but nor eminent in titles 
 Or in estate, that may support or add to 
 The expectation of thy fortunes. Settle 
 Thy will and reason by a strength of judgment : 
 For, in a word, I give thee freedom ; take it. 
 If equal fates have not ordainM to pitch 
 Thy hopes above my height, let not thy passion 
 Lead thee to shrink mine honour in oblivion : 
 Thou art thine own ; I have done. 
 
 Dal. Oh ! you're all oracle, 
 
 The living stock and root of truth and wisdom. 
 
 ' To side thy equals ;] To match with thy equals. This is a 
 singular use of the verb to side^ which yras originally a technical 
 term at card- p laving.
 
 32 P]IKIN WARBECK. ACT. I. 
 
 Kath. My worthiest lord and father, the indul- 
 gence [Kruels, 
 Of your sweet composition, thus commands 
 The lowest of obedience : you have granted 
 A liberty so large, that I want skill 
 To choose without direction of example : 
 From which I daily learn, by how much more 
 You take off from the roughness of a father, 
 By so much more I am engag'd to tender 
 The duty of a daughter. For respects 
 Of birth, degrees of title, and advancement, 
 I nor admire nor slight them ; all my studies 
 Shall ever aim at this perfection only, 
 To live and die so, that you may not blush 
 In any course of mine to own me yours. 
 
 Hunt. Kate, Kate, thou grow'st upon my heart, 
 like peace. 
 Creating every other hour a jubilee. 
 
 Kath. To you my lord of Dalyell, I address 
 Some few remaining words : The general fame 
 That speaks your merit, even in vulgar tongues, 
 Proclaims it clear, but in the best, a president. 
 
 Hunt. Good wench, good girl, i* faith. 
 
 Kath. For my part (trust me), 
 
 1 value mine own worth at higher rate, 
 ^Cause you are pleasM to prize it ; if the stream 
 Of your protested service (as you term it) 
 Run in a constancy, more than a compliment, 
 It shall be my delight, that worthy love 
 Leads you to worthy actions ; and these guide yoit 
 Kichly to wed an honourable name : 
 So every virtuous praise, in after ages. 
 Shall be your heir, and 1, in your brave mention, 
 Be chronicled the mother of that issue, 
 That glorious issue. 
 
 Hunt. Oh, that I were young again 
 
 10
 
 SCENE II. PERKIN WARBECK. 93 
 
 She'd make me court proud danger, and suck spirit 
 From reputation. 
 
 Kath. To the present motion, 
 
 Here's all that I dare answer : when a ripeness 
 Of more experience, and some use of time, 
 Resolves to treat the freedom of my youth 
 Upon exchange of troths', I shall desire 
 No surer credit, of a match with virtue. 
 Than such as lives in you ; mean time, my hopes 
 
 are 
 Preserv'd secure, in having you a friend. 
 
 Dal. You are a blessed lady, and instruct 
 Ambition not to soar a farther flight, 
 Than in the perfum'd air of your soft voice. 
 My noble lord of Huntley, you have lent 
 A full extent of bounty to this parley ; 
 And for it shall command your humblest servant. 
 
 Hunt, Enough : we are still friends, and Vr'ill 
 continue 
 A hearty love. Oh ! Kate, thou art mine own. 
 No more : my lord of Crawford. 
 
 Enter Crawford. 
 
 Craw. From the king 
 
 I come, my lord of Huntley, who in counsel 
 Requires your present aid. 
 Hunt. Some weighty business I 
 
 Craw. A secretary from the duke of York, 
 The second son to the late English Edward, 
 
 * Resolves to treat the freedom of my youth, 
 Upon exchange of troths."} The phraseology here is ex- 
 tremely involved. The meaning seems to be, *' when experience 
 and time give me a resolution to treat for an exchange of the 
 freedom of my youth for mutual truth or betrothing, 1 shall de- 
 sire," &c. ; or, in plainer words, " when experience and time 
 shall incline me to give up the freedom of my youth, and give 
 up my truth and faith to another in exchange for his faithj" &c.
 
 *J I PERKIN WARBECK. ACT I. 
 
 Conceal'd, I know not where, these fourteen years, 
 Craves audience from our master ; and *tis said 
 The duke himself is following to the court. 
 
 Hunt. Duke upon duke; *tis well, 'tis well ! 
 here's bustling 
 For majesty ; my lord, I will along with you. 
 Craw. My service, noble lady. 
 Kath. 'Please you walk, sir? 
 
 Dal. Times have their changes ; sorrow makes 
 men wise ; 
 The sun itself must set as well as rise ; 
 Then, why not 1. Fair madam, I wait on you. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SC ENE I \\.Night.~Thc Tower. Lights brought 
 
 in. 
 
 Enter Durham, Sir Robert Clifford, and 
 Urswick. Lights. 
 
 Dur. You find, Sir Robert Cliflbrd, how securely 
 King Henry, our great master, doth commit 
 His person to your loyalty; you taste 
 His bounty and his mercy even in this; 
 That at a time of night so late, a place 
 So private as his closet, he is pleas'd 
 To admit you to his favour; do not falter 
 In your discovery, but as you covet 
 A liberal grace, and pardon for your follies. 
 So labour to deserve it, by laying open 
 All plots, all persons, that contrive against it. 
 
 ifrs. Remember not the witchcraft, or the magic, 
 ^he charms and incantations, which the sorceress 
 Of Burgundy hath cast upon your reason : 
 Sir Robert, be your own friend now, discharge 
 Your conscience freely; all of such as love you, 
 Stird sureties for your honesty and truth.
 
 SCENE III. PERKIN WARBECK. 25 
 
 Take heed you do not dally with the king, 
 He is wise as he is gentle. 
 
 Clif. I am miserable 
 
 If Henry be not merciful. 
 
 Ur$. The king comes. 
 
 Enter King Henry. 
 
 K. Hen. Clifford ! 
 
 Clif. (Kneels.) Let my weak knees rot to the earth, 
 If I appear as lep'rous in my treacheries. 
 Before your royal eyes, as to my own 
 I seem a monster, by my breach of truth. 
 
 K. Hen. Clifford, stand up : for instance of thy 
 safety 
 I offer thee my hand. 
 
 Clif. A sovereign balm 
 
 For my bruis'd soul, I kiss it with a greediness. 
 Sir, you are a just master, but I 
 
 K. Hen. Tell me. 
 
 Is every circumstance thou hast set down 
 With thine own hand, within this paper, true ? 
 Is it a sure intelligence of all 
 The progress of our enemies' intents 
 Without corruption \ 
 
 Clif. True, as I wish heaven ; 
 
 Or my infected honour white again. 
 
 K. Hen. We know all, Clifford, fully, since this 
 meteor 
 This airy apparition first discradled 
 From Tournay into Portugal ; and thence 
 Advanc'd his fiery blaze for adoration 
 To th' superstitious Irish; since the beard 
 Of this wild comet, conjui'd into France, 
 Sparkled in antick flames in Charles his court; 
 But shrunk again from thence, and, hid in dark- 
 ness. 
 Stole into Flanders, flourishing the rags
 
 26 PERKIN WARBECK. ACT!. 
 
 Of painted power on the shore of Kent, 
 Whence he was beaten back with shame and scorn, 
 Contempt, and slaughter of some naked outlaws : 
 But tell me, what new course now shapes duke 
 Perk in ? 
 
 Clif. For Ireland, mighty Henry; so instructed 
 By Stephen Frion, sometimes ' secretary 
 In the French tongue unto your sacred excellence, 
 But Perkin*s tutor now. 
 
 K. Hen. A subtle villain 
 
 That Frion, Frion, you, my lord of Durham, 
 Knew well the man. 
 
 Dur. French, both in heart and actions. 
 
 K, Hen. Some Irish heads work in this mine of 
 treason ; 
 Speak them. 
 
 Clif. Not any of the best ; your fortune 
 
 Hath dull'd their spleens. Never had counterfeit 
 Such a confused rabble of lost bankrupts 
 For counsellors : first Heron, a broken mercer, 
 Then John A-Water, sometimes mayor of Cork, 
 Sketon a taylor, and a scrivener 
 Call'd Astley ; and whate'er these list* to treat of, 
 Perkin must barken to; but Frion, cunning 
 Above these dull capacities, still prompts him 
 To fly to Scotland to young James the Fourth ; 
 And sue for aid to him ; this is the latest 
 Of all their resolutions. 
 
 ' Sometimes^'] Formerly. See the Introduction to this play, 
 and further on in this page, where the word occurs in the same, 
 sense. Jn the Merchant of Venice, Bassanes says : 
 
 " In Rclmont w a lady richly left, 
 
 And bIic U fair, anil fairer tlran tliut word, 
 
 Of wond'roiis virtues; somiiimes from her eye* 
 
 I did receire fair spcociilcu incuages." 
 
 * Lisi^l An old word for choose ; of too frequent occarrcnce 
 to require any example of its use.
 
 SCENE III. PERKIN WARBECK. 27 
 
 K. Hen.. Still more Frion ? 
 
 Pestilent adder ! he will hiss out poison, 
 As dangerous as infectious. We must match 'em. 
 Clifford thou hast spoke home, we give thee life : 
 But, Clifford, there are people of our own 
 Remain behind untold ; who are they, Clifford ? 
 Name those, and we are friends, and will to rest : 
 'Tis thy last task. 
 
 Clif. Oh, sir, here I must break 
 
 A most unlawful oath to keep a just one. 
 
 K. Hen. Well, well, be brief, be brief. 
 
 Clif. The first in rank 
 
 Shall be John Ratcliffe Lord Fitzwater, then 
 Sir Simon Mountford, and Sir Thomas Thwaites, 
 With William Dawbeney, Chessoner, Astwood, 
 Worsley, the dean of Paul's, two other friars. 
 And Robert Ratcliffe. 
 
 K. Hen. Churchmen are turn'd devils. 
 
 These are the principal ? 
 
 Clif. One more remains 
 
 Unnam'd, whom I could willingly forget. 
 
 K. Hen. Ha, Clifford ! one more ? 
 
 Clif. Great sir, do not hear him. 
 
 For when Sir William Stanley, your lord chambe- 
 
 lain. 
 Shall come into the list, as he is chief, 
 I shall lose credit with ye ; yet this lord, 
 Last nam'd, is first against you. 
 
 K. Hen. Ursvvick, the light ! 
 
 View well my face, sirs : is there blood left in it ? 
 
 Dur. You alter strangely, sir. 
 
 K. Hen. Alter, lord bishop ? 
 
 Why, Clifford stabbM me, or I dreamt hestabb'd me. 
 Sirrah, it is a custom with the guilty 
 To think they set their own stains off, by laying 
 Aspersions on some nobler than themselves :
 
 28 PERKIN WARBECK. ACT I. 
 
 Lies wait on treasons, as I find it here '. 
 Thy life again is forfeit ; I recal 
 My word of mercy; for I know thou dar'st 
 Repeat the name no more. 
 
 C/?/". I dare, and once more, ^ 
 
 Upon my knowledge, name Sir William Stariley, 
 Both in his counsel and his purse, the chief 
 Assistant to the feigned duke of York. 
 
 Dur. Most strange ! 
 
 Urs, Most wicked ! 
 
 K. Hen. Yet again, once more. 
 
 Clif. Sir William Stanley is your secret enemy, 
 And, if time fit, will openly profess it. 
 
 K. Hen. Sir William Stanley ! Who ? Sir Wil- 
 liam Stanley, 
 My chamberlain, my counsellor, the love. 
 The pleasure of my court, my bosom friend. 
 The charge, and the controulment of my person ; 
 The keys and secrets of my treasury ; 
 The all of all 1 am ! I am unhappy : 
 Misery of confidence, let me turn traitor 
 To my own person, yield my sceptre up 
 To Edward's sister, and her bastard duke ! 
 
 Dur. You lose your constant temper. 
 
 K. Hen. Sir William Stanley ! 
 
 O do not blame me ; he, 'twas only he 
 Who having rescued me in Bosworth field 
 From Richard's bloody sword, snatched from his 
 
 head 
 The kingly crown, and plac'd it first on mine. 
 He never fail'd me ; what have I deserv'd 
 To lose this good man's heart, or he his own \ 
 
 Vrs. The night doth waste, this passion ill be- 
 comes you : 
 Provide against your danger, 
 
 * Lies zcait on treasonSy as IJind it heref\ i. e. Lies are ever 
 attendants upon treason ; as is the case iu the present instance.
 
 SCENE III. PERKIN WARBECK. 29 
 
 K, Hen. Let it be so. 
 
 Urswick, command straight Stanley to his chamber. 
 *Tis well we-are i'th* Tower. Set a guard on him. 
 Clifford, to bed : you must lodge here to-night ; 
 We'll talk with you to-morrow. My sad soul 
 Divines strange troubles. 
 
 Daw. (within.) Ho ! the king, the king ! 
 
 I must have entrance. 
 
 K. Hen. Dawbeney*s voice ; admit him. 
 
 What new combustions huddle next to keep 
 Our eyes from rest ? the news \ 
 
 Enter Dawbeney, 
 
 Daie. Ten thousand Cornish 
 
 Grudging to pay your subsidies, have gather'd 
 A -head, led by a blacksmith and a lawyer, 
 They make for London, and to them is join*d 
 Lord Audley. As they march, their number daily 
 Increases ; they are-r- 
 
 K. Hen. Rascals talk no more ; 
 
 Such are not worthy of my thoughts to-night : 
 And if I cannot sleep, I'll wake : to bed. 
 When counsels fail, and there's no man to trust, 
 Even then an arm from heaven fights for the just. 
 
 ACT IL 
 
 SCENE I. Edinburgh. -^The Presence- Chamber 
 in the Palace^ with a Gallery. 
 
 Enter above, the Countess of Crawford, Ladj/ 
 Katherine, Jane, and other ladies. 
 
 Countess. Come, ladies, here's a solemn prepara- 
 tion
 
 30 PERKIN WARBECK. ACT II. 
 
 For entertainment of this English prince ; 
 The king intends grace more than ordinary ; 
 'Twere pity now, if he should prove a counterfeit. 
 
 Kath. Bless the young man ! Our nation would 
 be laugh'd at 
 For honest souls through Christendom. My father 
 Hath a weak stomach to the business, madam, 
 But that the king must not be cross'd. 
 
 Countess. He brings 
 
 A goodly troop, they say, of gallants with him ; 
 But very modest people, for they strive not 
 To fame their names too much ; their godfathers 
 May be beholding to them, but their fathers 
 Scarce owe them thanks: they are disguised princes. 
 Brought up it seems to honest trades : no matter ; 
 They will break forth in season. 
 
 Jane, Or break out ; 
 
 For most of them are broken by report. 
 
 A Flourish. Enter King James, Huntley, 
 Crawford, and Dalyell. 
 
 The king. 
 
 Kath. Let us observe 'em and be silent. 
 
 K. Ja. The right of kings, my lords, extends not 
 only 
 To the safe conservation of their own. 
 But also to the aid of such allies 
 As change of time and state hath oftentimes 
 HurlM down from careful ' crowns, to undergo 
 An exercise of sufferance in both fortunes : 
 So English Richard, surnam*d Cceur de Lion, 
 So Robert Bruce, our royal ancestor, 
 Forc'd by the trial of the wrongs they felt, 
 Both sought and found supplies from foreign kingsr 
 To repossess their own. Then grudge not, lordis 
 
 ' Coreful.^ Here nscd in the literal sei^se, full of cares.
 
 SC&NE I. PERKIN WARBECK. 'St 
 
 A much distressed prince : king Charles of France, 
 
 And MaximiHan of Bohemia both, 
 
 Have ratified his credit by their letters. 
 
 Shall we then be distrustful ? No; compassion 
 
 Is one rich jewel that shines in our crown, 
 
 And we will have it shine there. 
 Hunt. Do your will, sir. 
 
 K. Ja, The young duke is at hand ; Dalyell, 
 from us 
 
 First greet him, and conduct him on ; then Craw- 
 ford 
 
 Shall meet him next, and Huntley, last of all, 
 
 Present him to our arms. Sound sprightly music. 
 
 Whilst majesty encounters majesty ! 
 
 Hautboys. Exit Dalyell, and re-enter with Per- 
 KiN Warbeck, Frio>;, Heron, Sketon, Ast- 
 ley, and John a-Water. Crawford sa- 
 lutes Perkin, and afterwards Huntley, whcC 
 presents him to the King, by whom he is embra^ 
 ced. In the meantime the noblemen slightly sa- 
 lute his followers. 
 
 War, Most high, most mighty king ! that now 
 there stands 
 Before your eyes, in presence of your peers, 
 A subject of the rarest kind of pity 
 That hath in any age touched noble hearts, 
 The vulgar story of a prince's ruin, 
 Hath made it too apparent : Europe knows. 
 And all the western world, what persecution 
 Hath rag'd in malice against us, sole heir 
 To the great throne of old Plantagenets. 
 How, from our nursery, we have been hurried 
 Unto the sanctuary, from the sanctuary 
 Forc'd to the prison, from the prison haul'd 
 By cruel hands to the tormentor's fury ; 
 Is register'd already in the volume
 
 32 PERKIN WARBECK. ACT II. 
 
 Of all mens' tongues, whose true relation draws 
 Compassion, melted into weeping eyes, 
 And bleeding souls : but our misfortunes since. 
 Have rang'd a larger progress thro* strange lands, 
 Protected in our innocence by Heaven. 
 Edward the Fifth, our brother, in his tragedy, 
 Quench'd their hot thirst of blood, whose hire to 
 
 murther 
 Paid them their wages of despair and horror ; 
 The softness of my childhood smil'd upon 
 The roughness of their task, and robb'd them farth* r 
 Of hearts to dare, or hands to execute. 
 Great king they spar'd my life, the butchers spar'd 
 
 it; 
 Returned the tyrant, my unnatural uncle, 
 A truth of my dispatch ; I was convey'd 
 With secrecy and speed to Tournay ; foster'd 
 By obscure means, taught to unlearn myself: 
 But as I grew in years, I grew in sense 
 Of fear and of disdain ; fear of the tyrant 
 Whose power sway*d the throne then, when disdain 
 Of living so unknown, in such a servile 
 And abject lowness, prompted me to thoughts 
 Of recollecting who 1 was ; 1 shook off' 
 Mv bondage, and made haste to let mv aunt 
 Of Burgundy acknowledge me her kinsman ; 
 Heir to the crown of England, snatch'd by Henry 
 Prom Richard's head ; a thing scarce known i'th* 
 
 world. 
 K. Ja. My lord, it stands not with your counsel 
 
 now 
 To fly upon invectives ; if you can 
 Make this apparent what you have discoursed, 
 In every circumstance, we will not study 
 An answer, but are ready in your cause. 
 
 War. You are a wise and just king, by the powers 
 Above reserv'd, bevond all other aids,
 
 SCEJ?E I. PERKIN WARBECK. 33 
 
 To plant me in mine own inheritance : 
 
 To marry these two kingdoms in a love. 
 
 Never to be divorc'd, while time is time. 
 
 As for the manner, first of my escape, 
 
 Of my conveyance next, of my life since, 
 
 The means, and persona who were instrument>, 
 
 Great sir, 'tis fit [ over-pass in silence ; 
 
 Reserving the relation to the secrecy 
 
 Of your own princely care, since it concerns 
 
 Some great ones living yet, and others dead, 
 
 Whose issue might be question'd. For your bounty. 
 
 Royal magnificence to him that seeks it, 
 
 We vow hereafter to demean ourself. 
 
 As if we were your own and natural brother ; 
 
 Omitting no occasion in our person, 
 
 To express a gratitude beyond example. 
 
 K. Ja. He must he more than subject who can 
 utter 
 The language of a king, and such is thine. 
 Take this for answer, be whate'er thou art. 
 Thou never shalt repent that thou hast put 
 Thy cause and person into my protection. 
 Cousin of York, thus once more we embrace thee ; 
 Welcome to James of Scotland. For thy safety, 
 Know, ^uch as love thee not, shall never wrong thee. 
 Come, we will taste a m hile our court-delights. 
 Dream hence afflictions past, and then proceed 
 To high attempts of honour. On, lead on I 
 Both thou and thine are ours, and we will guard ye. 
 Lead on \j2.xeunt all but the Ladies above. 
 
 Countess. I have not seen a geritjeman 
 Of a more brave aspect, or goodlier carriage. 
 His fortunes move not him. Madam, you're pas- 
 sionate. 
 
 Kath. Beshrew me, but his words have touched 
 me home, 
 
 VOL. II. c
 
 34 PERKIN WARBECK. AOT II. 
 
 As if his cause concerned me : I should pity him 
 If he should prove another than he seems. 
 
 ^nter Crawford. 
 
 Craw. Ladies, the king commands your presence 
 instantly, 
 For entertainment of the duke. 
 
 Kath. The duke 
 
 Must then be entertained, the king obey'd : 
 It is our duty. 
 
 Countess. We will all wait on him. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II. London.-^The Tower. 
 
 A Flourish. Enter King Henry, Oxford, Dur- 
 ham, Surrey. 
 
 K. Hen. Have ye condemn'd my chamberlain ? 
 
 Dur. His treasons 
 
 Condemn'd him, sir, which were as clear and mani- 
 fest, 
 As foul and dangerous: besides, the guilt 
 Of his conspiracy prest him so nearly 
 That it drew from him free confession, 
 AVithout an importunity. 
 
 K. Hen. Oh, lord bishop, 
 
 This argued shame and sorrow for his folly, 
 And must not stand in evidence against 
 Our mercy, and the softness of our nature ; 
 The rigour and extremity of law 
 Is sometimes too too bitter, but we carry 
 A chancery of pity in our bosom. 
 I hope we may reprieve him from the sentence 
 Of death ; I hope we may. 
 
 Dur. You may, you may, 
 
 And so persuade your subjects that the title
 
 8CENR II. PERKIN WAIIBECK. S5 
 
 Of York is better, nay^ more just and lawful, 
 Then yours of Lancaster ; so Stanley holds : 
 Which if it be not treason in the highest. 
 Then we are traitors all, perjur'd, and false. 
 Who have took oath to Henry, and the justice 
 Of Henry*s title ; Oxford, Surrey, Dawbeney, 
 With all your other peers of state and church. 
 Forsworn, and Stanley true alone to Heaven, 
 And England's lawful heir. 
 
 Oxf. By Agere's old honours, 
 
 I'll cut his throat dares speak it. 
 
 Sur. *Tis a quarrel 
 
 To engage a soul in. 
 
 K. Hen. What a coil ' is here 
 
 To keep my gratitude sincere and perfect ! 
 Stanley was once my friend, and came in time 
 To save my life : yet, to say truth, my lords, 
 The man staid long enough t' endanger it ; 
 But I could see no more into his heart, 
 Than what his outward actions did present ; 
 And for them have rewarded him * so fully, 
 As that there wanted nothing in our gift 
 To gratify his merit, as 1 thought. 
 Unless I should divide my crown with him, 
 And give him half; tho' now I well perceive 
 'Twould scarce have serv'd his turn, without the 
 
 whole. 
 But I am charitable, lords : let justice 
 Proceed in execution, whilst 1 mourn 
 The loss of one whom I esteem'd a friend, 
 
 Dur. Sir, he is coming this way. 
 
 K. Heii, If he speak to me 
 
 I could deny him nothing ; to prevent it, 
 
 * Coi7,] Bustle, stir. 
 
 ' Rezcarded 'em.'] So the quarto reads corrnptcdly.
 
 36 PERKIN WAKBECK. ACT II. 
 
 I must withdraw. 'Pray, lords, commend my fa- 
 vours 
 To his last peace, which, with him, I will pray for: 
 That done, it doth concern us to consult 
 Of other following troubles. [^Exeunt. 
 
 Oxf, I am glad 
 
 He's gone ; upon my life he would have pardon'd 
 The traitor, had he seen him. 
 
 Sur. *Tis ^ king 
 
 Composed of gentleness. 
 
 Dur. Rare and unheard of. 
 
 But every man is nearest to himself, 
 And that the king observes ; 'tis fit he should. 
 
 Enter Stanley, led hy the Executioner^ with XJrs- 
 wiCK and Dawbeney. 
 
 Stan. May 1 not speak with Clifford, ere I shake 
 This piece of frailty off? 
 
 Daw. You shall ; he*s sent for. 
 
 Stan. I must not see the king ? 
 
 Dur. From him, sir William, 
 
 These lords and I am sent : he bade us say 
 That he commends his mercy to your thoughts ; 
 Wishing the laws of England could remit 
 The forteit of your life, as willingly 
 As he would, in the sweetness of his nature, 
 Forget your trespass ; but howe'er your body 
 Fall into dust, he vows, the king himself 
 Doth vow, to keep a requiem for your soul, 
 As for a friend, close treasured in his bosom. 
 
 Oxf. Without remembrance of your errors past, 
 I come to take my leave, and wish you heaven. 
 
 Sur. And I ; good angels guard you ! 
 
 Stan. Oh, the king 
 
 Next to ray soul, shall be the nearest subject 
 Of my last prayers. My grave lord of Durham, 
 My lords of Oxford, Surrey, Dawbeney, all,
 
 SCENE ll. PERKIN WARBECK. 87 
 
 Accept from a poor dying man a farewell. 
 I was as you are once, great, and stood hopeful 
 Of many flourishing years, but fate and time 
 Have wheelM about, to turn me into nothing. 
 
 Enter Clifford. 
 
 Daw. Sir Robert Clifford comes, the man, sir 
 William, 
 You so desirM to speak with. 
 
 Dur. Mark their meeting. 
 
 Clif, Sir William Stanley, I am glad your con- 
 science 
 Before your end, hath emptied every burden 
 Which charged it, as that you can clearly witness, 
 How far 1 have proceeded in a duty 
 That both concerned my truth and the state's safety. 
 
 Stan. Mercy, how dear is life to such as hug it ! 
 Come hither by this token think on me ! 
 
 [^Makes a cross on Clifford's face with 
 his iin&eT. 
 
 Clif. This token \ What ? I am abus'd ? 
 
 Stan, You are not. 
 
 I wet upon your cheeks a holy sign. 
 The cross, the Christian's badge, the traitor's in- 
 famy : 
 Wear, Clifford, to thy grave this painted emblem : 
 Water shall never wash it off, all eyes 
 That gaze upon thy face, shall read there written, 
 A state-informer's character ; more ugly, 
 Stampt on a noble name, than on a base. 
 The heavens forgive thee. 'Pray, my lords, no 
 
 change 
 Of words : this man and I have us'd too many. 
 
 Clif. Shall I be disgrac'd 
 Without reply ? 
 
 I>ur. Give losers leave to talk ; 
 
 His loss is irrecoverable. 
 
 3 7 1 7
 
 38 I'ERKIN WARBECK. ACT II. 
 
 Stan. Once more, 
 
 To all a long farewell. The best of greatness 
 Preserve the king ! My next suit is, ray lords. 
 To be remember' d to my noble brother, 
 Derby, my much grieved brother. Oh, persuadehim. 
 That 1 shall stand no blemish to his house, 
 In chronicles writ in another age : 
 My heart doth bleed for him, and for his sighs. 
 Tell him, he must not think the style of Derby, 
 Nor being husband to king Henry's mother. 
 The league with peers, the smiles of fortune, can 
 Secure his peace above the state of man. 
 I take my leave to travel to my dust : 
 Subjects deserve their deaths whose kings are just. 
 Come, confessor ! On with thy axe, friend, on. 
 
 \_He is led off to execution. 
 
 Clif. Was I call'd hither by a traitor's breath 
 To be upbraided ? Lords, the king shall know it. 
 
 Enter King Henry with a white staff. 
 
 K. Hen. The king doth know it sir ; the king 
 hath heard 
 What he or you could say. We have given credit 
 To every point of Clifford's information. 
 The only evidence 'gainst Stanley's head : 
 He dies for it : are you pleas'd ? 
 
 Clif. I pleas'd my lord ? 
 
 K. Hen. No echoes : for your service we dismiss 
 Your more attendance on the court ; take ease, 
 And live at home. But, as you love your \\ie, 
 IStir not from London without leave from us. 
 We'll think on your reward. Away ! 
 
 Clif. 1 go, sir. [Exit. 
 
 K. Hen. Die all our griefs with Stanley ! Take 
 this staff 
 Of office, Dawbeney; henceforth be our chamber- 
 lain.
 
 SCENE II. PERKIN WARBECK. 39 
 
 Daw. I am your humblest servant. 
 
 K. Hen, We are follow' d 
 
 By enemies at home that will not cease 
 To seek their own confusion ; 'tis most true, 
 The Cornish under Audley are march' d on 
 As far as Winchester ; but let them come, 
 Our forces are in readiness, we'll catch them 
 In their own toils. 
 
 Daw. Your army, sir, being muster'd, 
 
 Consists in all, of horse and foot, at least 
 In number six-and-twenty thousand ; men 
 Daring and able, resolute to fight, 
 And loyal in their truths. 
 
 K. Hen. We know it, Dawbeney : 
 
 For them'we order thus; Oxford in chief. 
 Assisted by bold Essex, and the earl 
 Of Suffolk, shall lead on the first batallia ; 
 Be that your charge. 
 
 Oxf. I humbly thank you majesty. 
 
 K. Hen. The next division we assign to Daw- 
 beney : 
 These must be men of action, for on those 
 The fortune of our fortunes must rely. 
 The last and main ourself commands in person. 
 As ready to restore the fight at all times. 
 As to consummate an assured victory. 
 
 Daw. The king is still oraculous. 
 
 K. Hen. But, Surrey, 
 
 We have employment of more toil tor thee : 
 For our intelligence comes swiftly to us, 
 That James of Scotland late hath entertained 
 Perkin the counterfeit, with more than common 
 Grace and respect; nay, courts him with rare favours. 
 The Scot is young and forward, we must look for 
 A sudden storm to England from the north ; 
 Which to withstand, Durham shall post toNorhanii 
 To fortify the castle, and secure
 
 40 PERKIN WARBECK. ACT II. 
 
 The frontiers against an invasion there. 
 Surrey shall follow soon, with such an army 
 As may relieve the bishop, and encounter, 
 On all occasions, the death-daring Scots. 
 You know your chaj^es all, *tis now a time 
 To execute, not talk; Heaven is our guard still. 
 War must breed peace, such is the fate of kings. 
 
 [^Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE lit EdinburgfL-^A Hall in the Royal 
 Palace. 
 
 Enter Crawford and Dalyell. 
 
 Craw. *Tis more than strange ; iliy reason cannot 
 answer 
 Such arguments of fine imposture, couched 
 In witchcraft of persuasion, that it fashions 
 impossibilities, as if appearance 
 Could cozen truth itself: this dukeling mushroom 
 Hath doubtless charm'd the king. 
 
 Dal. He courts the ladies, 
 
 As if his strength of language chained attention 
 By power of prerogative. 
 
 Craw. It madded 
 
 My very soul, to hear our master's motion : 
 What surety both of unity and honour 
 Must of necessity ensue upon 
 A match betwixt some noble of our nation, 
 And this brave prince, forsooth ? 
 
 Dal. 'Twill prove too fatal : 
 
 Wise Huntley fears the threat'ning. Bless the lady 
 From such a ruin ! 
 
 Craw. How the counsel-privy 
 
 Of this young Phaeton do screw their faces 
 Into a gravity, their trades, good people,
 
 BENE III. PERKIN WARBECK. 41 
 
 Were never guilty of ! The meanest of them 
 Dreams of at least an office in the state. 
 
 Dali Sure not the hangman's, 'tis bespoke al- 
 ready 
 For service of their rogueships. Silence ! 
 
 Enter King James and Huntley. 
 
 K. Ja. Do not 
 
 Argue against our will ; we have descended 
 Somewhat (as we may term it) too familiarly 
 From justice of our birthright, to examine 
 The force of your allegiance, sir, we have; 
 But find it short of duty ! 
 
 Hunt. Break my heart, 
 
 Do, do, king: have my services, my loyalty, 
 (Heaven knows untainted ever), drawn upon me 
 Contempt now in mine age ? when have I wanted 
 A minute of a peace not to be troubled ? 
 My last, my long one \ Let me be a dotard, 
 A bedlam', a poor sot, or what you please 
 To have me, so you will not stain your blood, 
 Your own blood, royal sir, tho' mixt with mine. 
 By marriage of this girl* to a straggler. 
 Take, take my head, sir ; whilst my tongue can 
 
 wag 
 It cannot name him other. 
 
 K. J a. Kings are counterfeits 
 
 In your repute, grave oracle, not presently 
 Set on their thrones, with sceptres in their fists : 
 
 * BedUwi.'] See Vol. I. p. 179. 
 
 * Girl.li This word must be read as oho of two syllables in 
 this place. The reader must be reminded of the Tery frequent 
 custom of dividing words similar to this into two syllables, as 
 he will otherwise be apt to form a very erroneous idea of the 
 versification of old plays. Most of those of Ford, and pecu- 
 liarly the present tragedy, are written in metre, as regular as 
 any of modern times^
 
 42 PERKIN WARBECK. ACT II. 
 
 But use your own detraction : 'tis our pleasure 
 To give our cousin York for wife our kinswoman. 
 The lady Katiierine : Instinct of sovereignty 
 Designs tlie honour, though her peevish father 
 Usurps our resolution. 
 
 Hunt. Oh, *tis well, 
 
 Exceeding well ! I never was ambitious 
 Of using congees to my daughter-queen. 
 A queen ! perhaps a quean'. Forgive me, Dalyell, 
 Thou honourable gentleman : none here 
 Dare speak one word of comfort. 
 
 Dal. Cruel misery ! 
 
 Craw. The lady, gracious prince, may be hath 
 settled 
 Affection on some former choice. 
 
 Dal, Enforcement 
 
 Would prove but tyranny. 
 
 Hunt. I thank thee heartily. 
 
 Let any yeoman of our nation challenge 
 An interest in the girl : then the king 
 May add a jointure of ascent in titles, 
 Worthy a free consent ; now he pulls down 
 What old desert hath builded. 
 
 K. Ja. Cease persuasions : 
 
 I violate no pawns of faiths, intrude not 
 On private loves ; that 1 have play*d the orator 
 For kingly York to virtuous Kate, her grant 
 Can justify, referring her contents 
 To our provision. The Welsh Harry, henceforth, 
 Shall therefore know, and tremble to acknowledge, 
 That not the painted idol of his policy. 
 Shall fright the lawful owner from a kingdom. 
 We are resolv'd. 
 
 ' A qiteettf perhaps a queen ?'} So the old copy ; but I can. 
 not find any sense in this rending. The alteration of a single 
 letter, and of the pointing, affords a rery obrious meaning, and 
 undoubtedly the one intended by the poet. 
 
 10
 
 SCENE III. PERKIN WARBECK. 43 
 
 Hunt. Some of thy subjects* hearts, 
 
 King James, will bleed for this ! 
 
 K. Ja. Then shall their bloods 
 
 Be nobly spent. No more disputes, he is not 
 Our friend who contradicts us. 
 
 Hunt. Farewel daughter ! 
 
 My care by one is lessened, thank the king for*t ! 
 I and my griefs will dance now. Look, lords, 
 
 look ; 
 Here's hand in hand already. 
 
 Enter Warbeck, leading in Lady Katherine ; 
 the Countess of Crawford, Jane Douglas, 
 Frion, John a-Water, Astley, Heron, and 
 Sketon. 
 
 K. Ja. Peace, old frenzy ! 
 
 How hke a king he looks ! Lords, but observe 
 The confidence of his aspect. Dross cannot 
 Cleave to so pure a metal. Royal youth ! 
 Plantagenet undoubted ! 
 
 Hunt. (Aside.) Ho, brave youth ' ! 
 
 But no Plantagenet, by'r lady yet, 
 By red rose or by white. 
 
 War. An union this way. 
 
 Settles possession in a monarchy 
 Establish'd rightly, as is my inheritance : 
 Acknowledge me but sovereign of this kingdom, 
 Your heart, fair princess, and the hand of provi- 
 dence. 
 Shall crown you queen of me, and my best fortunes. 
 
 Kath. Where my obedience is, my lord, a duty, 
 Love owes true service. 
 
 War. Shall I ? 
 
 * //o, brave lady !] So the quarto reads, no doubt corrupt- 
 edly, the word lady having been caught by the compositor from 
 the next line.
 
 44< PERKIN WARBECK. ACT II. 
 
 K. Ja. Cousin, yes, 
 
 Enjoy her ; from my hand accept your bride, 
 And may they live at enmity with comfort. 
 Who grieve at such an equal pledge of troths. 
 You are the prince's wife now. 
 
 Kat/i, By your gift, sir. 
 
 War. Thus, I take seizure of mine own. 
 
 Kath. I miss yet 
 
 A father's blessing. Let me find it ; humbly 
 Upon my knees I seek it. [^Kneels before Hunt. 
 
 Hunt. I am Huntley, 
 
 Old Alexander Gordon, a plain subject, 
 Nor more nor less ; and, lady, if you wish for 
 A blessing, you must bend your knees to heaven j 
 For heaven did give me you. Alas, alas ! 
 What would you have me say ? May all the hap- 
 piness 
 My prayers ever sued to, fall upon you, 
 Preserve you in your virtues. Pr'ythee, Dalyell, 
 Come with me ; for I feel thy griefs as full 
 As mine. Let's steal away, and cry together. 
 
 [Exeunt. Hunt, and Dal. 
 
 Dal. My hopes are in their ruins. 
 
 K. Ja. Good, kind Huntley 
 
 Is overjoy'd. A fit solemnity 
 Shall perfect these delights : Crawford attend 
 Our order for the preparation. 
 
 [^Exeunt all but the followers of War. 
 
 Fri. Now, worthy gentlemen, have I not fol- 
 low'd 
 My undertakings with success ? Here's entrance 
 Into a certainty of hope. 
 
 Her. Hopes are but hopes ; I was ever confi- 
 dent, when i traded in remnants, that my stars had 
 reserv'd me to the title of a viscount at least: ho- 
 nour is honour, though cut out of any stuffs. 
 
 Sket. My brother Heron hath right wisely deli-
 
 SCENE III. PERKIN WARBECK. 45 
 
 ver'd his opinion : for he that threads his needle 
 with the sharp eyes of industry, shall in good tinae 
 go through-stitch with the new suit of preferment. 
 
 Ast. Spoken to the purpose, my fine witted bro- 
 ther Sketon : for as no indenture but has its coun- 
 terpawn ; no noverint but his condition or defey- 
 sance ; so no right but may have claim, no claim 
 but may have possession, any act of parliament to 
 the contrary notwithstanding. 
 
 Fri. You are all read in mysteries of state, 
 And quick of apprehension, deep in judgment, 
 Active in resolution ; and 'tis pity 
 Such counsel should lie buried in obscurity. 
 But why, in such a time and cause of triumph. 
 Stands the judicious mayor of Cork so silent? 
 Believe it, sir, as Enghsh Richard prospers 
 You must not miss employment of high nature. 
 
 J. a-Wat. If men may he credited in their mor- 
 talit^s which I dare not peremptorily aver but they 
 may, or not be ; presumptions by this marriage are 
 then, in sooth, of fruitful expectation. Or else I 
 must not justify other mens belief, more than other 
 should rely on mine. 
 
 Fri. Pith of experience ! those that have borne 
 office. 
 Weigh every word before it can drop from them. 
 But, noble counsellors, since now the present 
 Requires, in point of honour ('pray mistake not). 
 Some service to our lord ; 'tis fit the Scots 
 Should not engross all glory to themselves. 
 At this so grand and eminent solemnity. 
 
 Sket. The Scots? the motion is defied : I had ra- 
 ther, for my part, without trial of my country, suf- 
 fer persecution under the pressing-iron' of reproach: 
 
 * Pressing-iron.~\ It must be recollected that Sketon is a 
 tailor, and is speaking his technical language. Oylet-holes, in 
 the next line, are the eyes of needles.
 
 46 PKRKIN WARBECK. ACT II. 
 
 or let my skin be pinch'd full of oylet-holes with 
 the bodkin of derision. 
 
 Ast. 1 will sooner lose both my ears on the pil- 
 lory of forgery. 
 
 Her. Let me live a bankrupt, and die in the lou- 
 sy hole of hunger, without compounding for six- 
 pence in the pound. 
 
 J. a-Wat. If men iail not in their expectations, 
 there may be spirits also that digest no rude af- 
 fronts, master secretary Prion, or 1 am cozen'd ; 
 which is possible, I grant. 
 
 Fri. Resolv'd like men of knowledge ; at this 
 feast, then, 
 In honour of the bride, the Scots, I know. 
 Will in some shew, some masque, or some device. 
 Prefer' their duties : now it were uncomely, 
 That we be found less forward for our prince, 
 Than they are for their lady; and by how much 
 We outshine them in persons of account. 
 By so much more will our endeavours meet with 
 A livelier applause. Great emperors 
 Have, for their recreations, undertook 
 Such kind of pastimes: as for the conceit, 
 Refer it to my study; the performance 
 You all shall share a thanks in; 'twill be grateful. 
 
 Her. The motion is allow'd ; I have stole to a 
 dancing-school when I was a 'prentice. 
 
 Ast. There have been Irish hubbubs *, when I 
 have made one too. 
 
 ^ Prtfer f] Here used in the sense oi proffer. So in the Mid- 
 summer Night's Dream : '* The short and the long is, our play 
 is preferred ;" that is, offered to the duke's option. 
 
 * Irish hubbubs.'] The hubbub, ubooboo, or ccannan of the 
 Irish, was pro|)crly their war-cry, when they rushed upon their 
 enemies ; but the allusion in the text seems to be to a dance, 
 which took its name from it.
 
 SCENE III. PERKIN WARBECK. 47 
 
 Sket. For fashioning of shapes, and cutting a cross- 
 caper, turn me off to my trade again. 
 
 J. a-Wat. Surely, there is, if I be not deceived, 
 a kind of gravity in merriment; as there is, or per- 
 haps ought to be, respect of persons in the quality 
 of carriage', which is, as it is construed, either so, 
 or so. 
 
 Fri. Still you come home to me; upon occasion 
 I find you relish courtship with discretion : 
 And such are fit for statesmen of your merits. 
 Pray *e wait the prince*, and in his ear acquaint 
 
 him 
 With this design ; I'll follow and direct you. 
 Oh, the toil [Exeunt all hut Frion. 
 
 Of humouring this abject scum of mankind ! 
 Muddy-brain' d peasants ! Princes feel a misery 
 Beyond impartial sufferance, whose extremes 
 Must yield to such abettors : yet our tide 
 Runs smoothly without adverse winds ; run on ! 
 Flow to a full sea ! time alone debates 
 Quarrels forewritten in the book of fates. [Exit, 
 
 * Carriage^ Behaviour. 
 
 * Wait the prince^'] i. e. Wait upon the prince ; according to 
 the phraseology of the age.
 
 48 FERKIN WARBECK. ACT. HI. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 SCENE l.Wesfmimier.T/ie Palace. 
 
 Enter King Henry, with his gorget^ on, his sword, 
 plume of feathers^ and leading-staff' ; and Urs- 
 WICK. * 
 
 K. Hen. How runs the time of clay \ 
 
 Urs. Past ten, my lord. 
 
 A^. Hen. A bloody hour will it prove to some. 
 Whose disobedience, like the sons o' th' earth, 
 Throw a defiance 'gainst the face of heaven. 
 Oxford, with Essex, and stout De la Poole, 
 Have quieted the Londoners, 1 hope. 
 And set them safe from fear. 
 
 Urs, They are all silent. 
 
 K. Hen. From their own battlements, they may 
 behold 
 Saint George's fields o'erspread with armed men ; 
 Amongst whom our own royal standard threatens 
 Confusion to opposcrs; we must learn 
 To practise war again in time of peace, 
 Or lay our crown before our subjects' feet ; 
 Ha, Urswick, must we not? 
 
 Urs, The pow'rs, who seated 
 
 King Henry on his lawful throne, will ever 
 Rise up in his defence. 
 
 K. Hen, Rage shall not fright 
 
 The bosom of our confidence ; in Kent 
 Our Cornish rebels, cozen'd of their hopes, 
 
 ' Gorget.'] Properly, armour for the neck ; but here It soems 
 to be nsai for brcast-platc, a.s the king was not likely to have 
 worn armour for the neck alotic. Iieading.staff is synonymous 
 with truncheon.
 
 SCENE I. PERKIK WARBECK. 49 
 
 Met brave resistance by that country's earl, 
 George Aburgeny, Cobham, Poynings, Guilford, 
 And other loyal hearts ; now, if Blackheath 
 Must be reserved the fatal tomb to swallow 
 Such stifF-neck'd abjects, as with weary marches 
 Have traveird from their homes, their wives, and 
 
 children. 
 To pay, instead of subsidies, their lives. 
 We may continue sovereign. Yet Urswick, 
 We'll not abate one penny, what in parliament 
 Hath freely been contributed ; we must not : 
 Money gives soul to action. Our competitor, 
 The Flemish counterfeit, with James of Scotland, 
 Will prove what courage need and want can nou- 
 rish. 
 Without the food of fit supplies. But Urswick 
 I have a charm in secret, that shall loose 
 The witchcraft, wherewith young King James is 
 
 bound. 
 And free it at my pleasure without bloodshed. 
 Urs. Your majesty's a wise king, sent from hea- 
 ven. 
 Protector of the just. 
 
 K. Hen. Let dinner cheerfully 
 
 Be serv'd in ; this day of the week is ours. 
 Our day of providence, for Saturday 
 Yet never fail'd, in all my undertakings. 
 To yield me rest at night. [^A Flourish.'] What 
 
 means this warning ? 
 Good fate, speak peace to Henry ! 
 
 Enter Dawbeney, Oxford, and Attendants. 
 
 Daw. Live the king. 
 
 Triumphant in the ruin of his enemies! 
 
 Oxf. The head of strong rebellion is cut off, 
 The body hew'd in pieces. 
 
 K. Hen. Dawbeney, Oxford, 
 
 VOL. II. i>
 
 60 PERKIN WARBECK. ACT III. 
 
 Minions to noblest fortunes, how yet stands 
 The comfort of your wishes ] 
 
 Daw. Briefly thus : 
 
 The Cornish under Audley, disappointed 
 Of flatter'd expectation, from the Kentish 
 (Your majesty's right trusty hegemen), flew, 
 Feather'd by rage, and hearten'd by presumption, 
 To take the field even at your palace-gates. 
 And face you in your chamber-royal ; arrogance 
 Improv'd their ignorance ; for they supposing. 
 Misled by rumour, that the day of battle 
 Should fail on Monday, rather brav'd your forces, 
 Than doubted any onset ; yet this morning, 
 \V hen in the dawning I, by your direction. 
 Strove to get Deptford-Strand-bridge, there I found 
 Such a resistance, as might shew what strength 
 Could make. Here arrows hail'd in showers upon 
 
 us, 
 A full yard long at least; but we prevail'd. 
 
 My lord of Oxford with his fellow peers. 
 Environing the hill, fell fiercely on them 
 
 On the one side, I on the other ; till, great sir, 
 
 (Pardon the oversight), eager of doing 
 
 Some memorable act, I was engag'd 
 
 Almost a prisoner, but was freed as soon 
 
 As sensible of danger: now the fight 
 
 Began in heat, which, quenched in the blood of 
 
 Two thousand rebels, and as many more 
 
 Resolv'd to try your mercy, have return'd 
 
 A victory with safety. 
 
 K. Hen. Have we lost 
 
 An equal number with them? 
 
 Oxf. In the total 
 
 Scarcely four hundred : Audley, Flammock, Jo- 
 seph, 
 
 The ringleaders of this commotion,
 
 SCENE r. PERKIN WARBECK. ^\ 
 
 Railed in ropes, fit ornaments for traitors, 
 Wait your determinations. 
 
 K. Hen. We must pay 
 
 Our thanks where they are only due : Oh, lords ! 
 Here is no victory, nor shall our people 
 Conceive that we can triumph in their falls. 
 Alas, poor souls ! Let such as are escap'd 
 Steal to the country back without pursuit: 
 There's not a drop of blood spiird, but hath drawn 
 As much of mine ; their swords could have wrought 
 
 wonders 
 On their king's part, who faintly were unsheath'd 
 Against their prince, but wounded their own 
 
 breasts. 
 Lords, we are debtors to your care, our payment 
 Shall be both sure and fitting your deserts. 
 
 Daw. Sir, will you please to see those rebels, 
 heads 
 Of this wild monster-multitude 1 
 
 K. Hen. Dear friend, 
 
 My faithful Dawbeney, no: on them our justice 
 Must frown in terror ; I will not vouchsafe 
 An eye to pity to them: let false Audley 
 Be drawn upon an hurdle from the Newgate 
 To Tower-hill in his own coat of arms 
 Painted on paper, with the arms reversed, 
 Defac'd, and torn ; there let him lose his head. 
 The lawyer and the blacksmith shall be hang'd, 
 Quarter'd, their quarters into Cornwall sent, 
 Examples to the rest, whom we are pleas'd 
 To pardon, and dismiss from further quest*. 
 My lord of Oxford, see it done. 
 
 Oxf. I shall, sir. 
 
 K. Hen. Urswick. 
 
 * Quest^ Examination, inquisition, as Cole readers it ia his 
 Latin Dictionary, 1679.
 
 62 PEUKIN WARBECK. ACT III. 
 
 Urs. My lord ? 
 
 K. Hen. To Dinham, our high-treasurer, 
 
 Say, we command commissions be new granted, 
 For the collection of our subsidies 
 Through all the west, and that speedily. 
 Lords, we acknowledge our engagements due 
 For your most constant services. 
 
 Daw. Your soldiers 
 
 Have manfully and faithfully acquitted 
 Their several duties. 
 
 K. Hen. For it, we will throw 
 
 A largess' free amongst them, which shall hearten 
 And cherish up their loyalties. More yet 
 Remains of like employment; not a man 
 Can be dismissed, till enemies abroad, 
 More dangerous than these at home, have felt 
 The puissance of our arms. Oh, happy kings, 
 Whose thrones are raised in their subjects hearts ! 
 
 [^Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II. Edinburgh. The royal Palace. 
 
 Enter Huntley and Dalyell. 
 
 I fun/. Now, sir, a modest word with you, sad 
 gentleman : 
 Is not this fme, I trow, to see the gambols, 
 To hear the jigs *, observe the frisks, be enchanted 
 
 ' Tiargess.^ Ifandfuls of money cast among the people, or 
 a donation bestowed on soldiers (Cotgrarc) ; so called from 
 largesse, liberality, bounty, Fr. which was originally the cry of 
 the heralds at feasts, and subsequently obtained a more extended 
 meaning. The custom of peasants, employed in the harvest, cry- 
 ing out largess, and thus obtaining money from the passcrs>by, 
 is still usual in Essex, Suffolk, and Kent. 
 
 * To hear the jigs.] Jigs were anciently not only dances, but
 
 SCENE II. PERKIN WARBECK. 63 
 
 With the rare discord of bells, pipes, and labours. 
 Hodge-podge of Scotch and Irish twingle-twangles, 
 Like to so many choristers of Bedlam 
 Trowling' a catch? The feasts, the manly sto- 
 machs. 
 The healths in usquebaugh, and bonny clabbore *, 
 The ale in dishes never fetch'd from China, 
 The hundred thousand knacks not to be spoken of. 
 And all this for king Oberon, and queen Mab ; 
 Should put a soul into ye. Look ye, good man, 
 How youthful I am grown : but by your leave, 
 This new queen-bride must henceforth be no more 
 My daughter ; no, by^r lady, 'tis unfit ! 
 And yet you see how I do bear this change ; 
 Methinks courageously : then shake off care 
 In such a time of jollity. 
 
 Dal. Alas, sir, 
 
 How can you cast a inist upon your griefs? 
 Which howsoe'er you shadow, but present 
 To any judging eye, the perfect substance 
 Of which mine are but counterfeits. 
 
 Hunt. Fob, Dalyell ! 
 
 Thou interrupt'st the part I bear in music 
 To this rare bridal feast : let us be merry ; 
 
 also metrical compositions, generally ballads ; e. g. in the pro- 
 logue to Fletcher's Fair Maid of the Ion : 
 
 " A jig- shall be clapt at, and every rhyme 
 Praised and applauded by a clamorous chime." 
 
 * Trowling a calch.'j This was a proverbial expression, and 
 is used in Shakespeare's Tempest : 
 
 " Let us be jocund, let us troll the catch 
 You taught nie while-ere." 
 
 Again, in Ben Jonson's Every Man in his Humour : 
 
 " If he read this with patience, I'll troul ballads." 
 
 * Clabbore.^ I have not been able to discover what particn- 
 lar kind of liquor was thus denominatodj never having roet with 
 the phrase before.
 
 54 PERKIN WARBECK. ACT III. 
 
 Whilst flattering calms secure us against storms: 
 Tempests, when they begin to roar, put out 
 The light of peace, and cloud the sun*s bright eye 
 In darkness of despair : yet we are safe. 
 
 Dal. I wish you could as easily forget 
 The justice of your sorrows, as my hopes 
 Can yield to destiny. 
 
 Hunt. Pish ! then I see 
 
 Thou dost not know the flexible condition 
 Of my apt nature ; I can laugh, laugh heartily, 
 When the gout cramps my joints ; let but the stone 
 Stop in my bladder, 1 am strait a-singing; 
 The quartan fever shrinking every limb. 
 Sets me a-cap'ring straight ; do but betray me, 
 And bind me a friend ever. What ? I trust 
 The losing of a daughter, though I doated 
 On every hair that grew to trim her head, 
 Admits not any pair like one of these. 
 Come, thou'rt deceiv'd in me ; give me a blow, 
 A sound blow on the face, Til thank thee for't ; 
 I love my wrongs ; still thou'rt deceiv'd in me. 
 
 Dal, Deceiv'd? Oh, noble Huntley, my few 
 years 
 Have learnt experience of too ripe an age, 
 To forfeit fit credulity. Forgive 
 My rudeness, 1 am bold. 
 
 Hunt, Forgive me first 
 
 A madness of ambition ; by example 
 Teach me humility, for patience scorns 
 Lectures, which schoolmen use to read to boys 
 Incapable of injuries ; tho* old, 
 I could grow tough in fury, and disclaim 
 Allegiance to my king, could fall at odds 
 With all my fellow-peers, that durst not stand 
 Defendants 'gainst the rape done on mine honour. 
 But kings are earthly gods, there is no meddling 
 With their anointed bodies : for their actions,
 
 SCENE II. PERKIN WARBECK. 55 
 
 They only are accountable to heaven'. 
 Yet in the puzzle of my troubled brain, 
 One antidote's reserv'd against the poison 
 Of my distractions; 'tis in thee to apply it. 
 
 Dal. Name it, oh! name it quickly, sir ! 
 
 Hunt. A pardon 
 
 For my most foolish slighting thy deserts : 
 I have cuU'd out this time to beg it. Pr'ythee, 
 Be gentle ! had 1 been so, thou hadst own'd 
 A happy bride, but now a cast-away, 
 And never child of mine more. 
 
 Dal. Say not so, sir. 
 
 It is not fault in her. 
 
 Hunt. The world would prate 
 
 How she was handsome ; young 1 know she wa>. 
 Tender, and sweet in her obedience ; 
 But, lost now, what a bankrupt am I made 
 Of a full stock of blessings! Must 1 hope 
 A mercy from thy heart ! 
 
 Dal. A love, a service, 
 
 A friendship to posterity. 
 
 Hunt. Good angels 
 
 Reward thy charity! I have no more 
 But prayers left me now. 
 
 Dal. I'll lend you mirth, sir. 
 
 If you will be in consort*. 
 
 * This is one of the passages which are very grating to oiu 
 cars ; but the right of kings dejure divinoy and the laws of non- 
 resistance, were still held in such veneration at (lie time this play 
 was written, that we must excuse the poet, who merely followed 
 the more general opinion, which was shortly after destined to 
 yield to a theory directly the reverse. 
 
 * Consoi't.~\ Generally a concert of musicians. The text 
 means, " If you will be in the same tune, harmonize with, or join 
 in the harmony of my mind." A similar use of the word occurs 
 in Massinger's Picture. Corisca, speaking of Sophia, says, 
 
 " She admits no visits ; 
 Eats little, an<t her niglitly niuiiic is 
 Of sighs Hiid ei'oans, tuned to such harmony 
 Of tVeUng griof>, that I, against my naturt-, 
 Am made one of the consort.'"
 
 56 PERKIN WARBECK. ACT III. 
 
 Hunt. * Thank ye truly : 
 
 I must, yes, yes, I must, here's yet some ease, 
 A partner in attliction. Look not angry. 
 
 Dal. Good, noble sir ! 
 
 Hunt. Oh, hark ! we may be quiet, 
 
 The king, and all the others come : a meeting 
 Of gaudy sights : this day's the last of revels ; 
 To-morrow sounds of war ; then new exchange ; 
 Fiddles must turn to swords. Unhappy marriage ! 
 
 A Flourish. Enter King James, Warbeck lead- 
 ing Katherine, Crawford and his Countess; 
 Jank Douglas. Huntley and D al\eli. fall 
 in among the train. 
 
 K. Ja. Cousin of York, you and your princely- 
 bride, 
 Have liberally enjoy'd such soft delights, 
 As a new-married couple could forethink ; 
 Nor has our bounty shorten'd expectation: 
 But after all those pleasures of repose, 
 Or amorous safety, we must rouse the ease 
 Of dalliance, with achievements of more glory 
 Than sloth and sleep can furnish : yet, for farewell, 
 Gladly we entertain a truce with time. 
 To grace the joint endeavours of our servants. 
 
 War. My royal cousin, in your princely favour. 
 The extent of bounty hath been so unlimited, 
 As only an acknowledgment in words 
 Would breed suspicion in our state' and quality. 
 When we shall, in the fulness of our fate, 
 Whose minister Necessity will perfitc. 
 Sit on our own throne*; then our arms laid open 
 
 ' Siate^'] Estate, here synonymous with qnalify. So in King 
 Henry IV. Part II. 
 
 " As you are a kini;, speak in your tiate." 
 * When zee shali, in thcftdncss of our fate y 
 IVhose minister Necessity tcill perfite^ 
 Sit on our oxen throne.-] This is not very clear. I
 
 SCENE II. PERKIN WARBECK. Sf 
 
 To gratitude, in sacred memory 
 Of these large benefits, shall twine them close. 
 Even to our thoughts and heart, without distinc- 
 tion . 
 Then James and Richard, being- in effect 
 One person, shall unite and rule one people, 
 Divisible in titles only. 
 
 K.Ja. Seat ye. 
 
 Are the presenters' ready? 
 
 Craw. All are ent'ring. 
 
 Hunt, Dainty sport toward Dalyell : sit, come sitj 
 Sit and be quiet ; here are kingly bugs words*. 
 
 Enter at one door four Scotch Anticks^ accordinglif 
 habited^; at another^ W ARBf^CK s followers, dis- 
 guised as four Wild Irish in trowses '*, long-hair- 
 ed, and accordingly habited. Music. The Mask- 
 ers dance. 
 
 K. Ja. To all a general thanks ! 
 
 suppose the passage means,** When we shall sit on our own throne, 
 in the fulness of fate (or good fortune), whose (/. e. Fate's) mi- 
 nister Necessity will perfect our good fortune, our having the 
 throne actually iu our possession." 
 
 * The presenters /] That is, the actors who arc to present the 
 masque, or antick. 
 
 * Kingly bugs zcords.'\ Words of terror, haughty words, as- 
 suming the style of royalty, alluding to the speech of the impos- 
 tor. So in the Spanish tragedy, 
 
 " Tliis hand shall hale tlieni down to deepest hell, 
 Where no,ne but furies, bugs, and tortures dwell." 
 
 ^ Accordingly habited f] That is, in the guise of their country. 
 
 * Wild Irish in troxsses.^ These were the wood-kcrncof Ire- 
 land, of which Spenser, Derrick, and other Klizabcthan writers, 
 give us such an unfavourable description. Their trowses, torn- 
 monly spelt trossersj were long pantaloons, exactly fitted to the 
 shape, chequered with various colours, like the tartan of the 
 Highlanders. They wore their hair very long and matted, which 
 they called a glibbe. See the reprint of Derrick's Image of Ire- 
 land, with the fac-similes of the wooden cuts, in the new edition 
 of Lord Somers's Tracts, Vol. I.
 
 58 PERKIN WARBECK. ACT III. 
 
 fVar. In the next room 
 
 Take your own shapes again ; you shall receive 
 Particular acknowledgment. [^Exeunt the maskers. 
 
 K. Ja. Enough 
 
 Of merriments ! Crawford, how far's our army 
 Upon the march ? 
 
 Craw. At Hedon-hall, great king ; 
 
 Twelve thousand, well prepar'd. 
 
 K. Ja. Crawford, to-night 
 
 Post thither. We, in person, with the prince, 
 By four o'clock to-morrow after dinner, 
 Will be wi' you ; speed away ! 
 
 Craw. I fly, my lord. [Exit. 
 
 K.Ja. Ourbusiness grows to head now. Where's 
 your secretary. 
 That lie attends you not to serve ? 
 
 War. With Marchmont, 
 
 Your herald. 
 
 K. Ja. Good : the proclamation's ready ; 
 
 By that it will appear how the English stand 
 Affected to your title. Huntley, comfort 
 Your daughter in her husband's absence ; fight 
 With prayers at home for us, who, for your honours, 
 Must toil in fight abroad. 
 
 Hunt. Prayers are the weapons 
 
 Which men so near their graves as I, do use. 
 Pve little else to do. 
 
 K. Ja. To rest, young beauties ! 
 
 We must be early stirring ; quickly part ! 
 A kingdom's rescue craves both speed and art. 
 Cousins, good night. [^A flourish. 
 
 War. Rest to our cousin king. 
 
 Kath. Your blessing, sir. 
 
 Hunt. Fair blessings on your highness, sure you 
 need them. 
 [Exeunt all but War. Kath. and J ahe.
 
 SCENE II. PERKIN WARBECK. 69 
 
 War. Jane, set the lights down, and from us return 
 To those in the next room, this little purse ; 
 Say we'll deserve their loves. 
 
 Jane. It shall be done, sir. [^ExitJ 
 
 War. Now, dearest, ere sweet sleep shall seal those 
 eyes, 
 Love's precious tapers, give me leave to use 
 A parting ceremony ; for to-morrow 
 It would be sacrilege to intrude upon 
 The temple of thy peace. Swift as the morning 
 Must I break from the down of thy embraces. 
 To put on steel, and trace the paths which lead 
 Through various hazards to a careful throne '. 
 
 Kath. My lord, 1 would fain go wi' you; there's 
 small fortune 
 In staying here behind. 
 
 War. The churlish brow 
 
 Of war, fair dearest, is a sight of horror 
 For ladies' entertainment ; if thou hear'st 
 A truth of my sad ending by the hand 
 Of some unnatural subject, thou withall 
 Shalt hear, how I died worthy of my right. 
 By falling like a king ; and in the close. 
 Which my last breath shall sound, thy name, thou 
 
 fairest, 
 Shall sing a requiem to my soul, unwilling 
 Only of greater glory, 'cause divided 
 From such a heaven on earth, as life with thee. 
 But these are chimes for funerals ; my business 
 Attends on fortune of a sprightlier triumph ; 
 For love and majesty are reconcil'd, 
 And vow to crown thee empress of the west. 
 
 Kath. You have a noble language, sir; your right 
 In me is without question, and however 
 
 * A careful throne^"] i. e, A throne full of car. See before, 
 p. 80.
 
 60 PERKIN WARBECK. ACT. III. 
 
 Events of time may shorten my deserts 
 
 In other's pity, yet it shall not stagger 
 
 Or constancy, or duty in a wife. 
 
 You must be king of me ; and my poor heart 
 
 Is all I can call mine. .f> 7?v 
 
 War. But we will live. 
 
 Live, beauteous virtue, by the lively test 
 Of our own blood, to let the counterfeit 
 Be known the world's contempt. 
 
 Kath. *^^^y do not use 
 
 That word, it carries fate in't. The first suit 
 I ever made, I trust your love will grant. 
 
 War. Without denial, dearest. 
 
 Kath. That hereafter. 
 
 If you return with safety, no adventure 
 May sever us in tasting any fortune : 
 I ne'er can stay behind again. 
 
 War. You're lady 
 
 Of your desires, and shall command your will : 
 Yet 'tis too hard a promise. 
 
 Kath. What our destinies 
 
 Have rul'd out in their books, we must not search 
 But kneel to. 
 
 War. Then to fear when hope is fruitless. 
 Were to be desperately miserable ; 
 Which poverty our greatness dare not dream of, 
 And much more scorns to stoop to. Some few mi- 
 nutes 
 Remain yet, let's be thrifty in our hopes. \^E.vcunt. 
 
 SCENE III. TAc Palace at Westminster. 
 
 Mnter King HEVRYf Hialas, awr/URSWiCK. 
 
 K. Hen. Your name is Pedro Hialas, a Spaniard? 
 Hial. Sir, a Castillian born.
 
 SCENE HI. PERKIN WARBECK. 6l 
 
 A^ Hen. King Ferdinand, 
 
 With wise queen Isabel his royal consort, 
 Write you a man of worthy trust and candour. 
 Princes are dear to heaven, who meet with subjects 
 Sincere in their employments ; such I find 
 Your commendation, sir. Let me deliver 
 How joyful I repute the amity. 
 With your most fortunate master, who almost 
 Comes near a miracle in his success 
 Against the Moors, who had devour'd his country, 
 Entire now to his sceptre. We, for our part, 
 Will imitate his providence, in hope 
 Of partage ' in the use on't ; we repute 
 The privacy of his advertisement to us 
 By you, intended * an ambassador 
 To Scotland, for a peace between our kingdoms, 
 A policy of love, which well becomes 
 His wisdom and your care. 
 
 Hial. Your majesty 
 
 Doth understand him rightly. 
 
 K. Hen. Else 
 
 Your knowledge can instruct me ; wherein, sir. 
 To fall on ceremony, would seem useless. 
 Which shall not need ; for I will be as studious 
 Of your concealment in our conference, 
 As any counsel shall advise. 
 
 Hial. Then, sir. 
 
 My chief request is, that on notice given 
 At my dispatch in Scotland, you will send 
 Some learned man of power and experience 
 To join in treaty with me. 
 
 K. Hen. I shall do it. 
 
 Being that way well provided by a servant, 
 Which may attend you ever. 
 
 ' Partage.'] Partition, division ; partage^ Fr. 
 * Intended.] Intended for, sent to be.
 
 62 PERKIN WARBECK. ACT HI. 
 
 Hial. If king James, 
 
 By any indirection ', should perceive 
 My coming near your court, I doubt the issue 
 Of my employment. 
 
 K. Hen. Be not your own herald ; 
 
 I learn sometimes without a teacher. 
 
 Hial. Good days 
 
 Guard all your princely thoughts. 
 
 K. Hen. Urswick, no further 
 
 Than the next open gallery attend him. 
 A hearty love go with you ! 
 
 Hial. Your vow'd beadsman *. 
 
 [^Exit. Urs. and HiAL. 
 
 K. Hen. King Ferdinand is not so much a fox, 
 But that a cunning huntsman may in time 
 Fall on the scent ; in honourable actions 
 Safe imitation best deserves a praise. 
 
 Enter Urswick. 
 
 What \ the Castillian's past away ? 
 
 Urs. He is, 
 
 And undiscoverM ; the two hurtdred marks 
 Your majesty convey'd, he gently pursed 
 With a right modest gravity. 
 
 K. Hen. What was't 
 He mutter'd in the earnest of his wisdom ? 
 He spoke not to be heard : 'twas about 
 
 Urs. Warbeck ; 
 
 *' How if king Henry were but sure of subjects, 
 Such a wild runnagate might soon be cag'd, 
 No great ado withstanding.** 
 
 * Indirection.~\ Indirect means. 
 
 * Beadsman.'] A beadsman in Catholic countries is one who 
 prays a certain number of prayers for the welfare of another ; so 
 called from the beads upon the rosary, by which th prayers are 
 counted.
 
 SCENE IV. PERKIN WARBECK. 63 
 
 K. Hen. Nay, nay; something 
 
 About my son prince Arthur's match. 
 
 Urs, Right, right sir : 
 
 He hummM it out, how that king Ferdinand 
 Swore, that the marriage 'twixt the lady Katherine, 
 His daughter, and the prince of Wales your son. 
 Should never be consummated, as long 
 As any earl of Warwick liv*d in England, 
 Except by new creation. 
 
 K. Hen. I remember, 
 
 *Twas so indeed ; the king his master swore it! 
 
 Urs. Directly as he said. 
 
 K. Hen. An earl of Warwick ! 
 
 Provide a messenger for letters instantly 
 To bishop Fox. Our news from Scotland creeps, 
 It comes so slow ; we must have airy spirits ; 
 Our time requires dispatch. The earl of Warwick ! 
 Let him be son to Clarence, younger brother 
 To Edward ; Edward's daughter is, I think. 
 Mother to our prince Arthur ; get a messenger. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE l\. -^Before the Castle ofNorham. 
 
 Enter King 3 AMES, Warbeck, Crawford, Dal- 
 YELL, Heron, Astley, John a-Water, 
 Sketon, and Soldiers. 
 
 K. Ja. We trifle time against these castle-walls. 
 The English prelate will not yield ; once more 
 Give him a summons ! [Parley. 
 
 Enter on the walls the Bishop 0/ Durham, armed ^ 
 and a truncheon in his hand, with Soldiers. 
 
 War. See the jolly clerk 
 
 Appears, trimm'd like a ruffian. 
 
 10
 
 G4 PERKIN WARBECK. ACT III. 
 
 K, Ja. Bishop, yet 
 
 Set ope the ports, and to your lawful sovereign, 
 Richard of York, surrender up this castle, 
 And he will take thee to his grace ; else Tweed 
 Shall overflow his banks with English blood. 
 And wash the sand that cements those hard stones 
 From their foundation. 
 
 Dur. Warlike king of Scotland, 
 
 Vouchsafe a few words from a man enforced 
 To lay his book aside, and clap on arms, 
 Unsuitable to my age, or my profession. 
 Courageous prince, consider on what grounds. 
 You rend the face of peace, and break a league 
 With a confederate king that courts your amity ; 
 For whom too \ for a vagabond, a straggler, 
 Not noted in the world by birth or name, 
 An obscure peasant, by the rage of hell 
 Loosed from his chains, to set great kings at strife. 
 What nobleman, what common man of note. 
 What ordinary subject hath come in. 
 Since first you footed on our territories, 
 To only feign a welcome ? children laugh at 
 Your proclamations, and the wiser pity 
 So great a potentate's abuse, by one 
 Who juggles merely with the fawns and youth 
 Of an instructed compliment ; such spoils, 
 Such slaughters as the rapine of your soldiers 
 Already have committed, is enough 
 To shew your zeal in a conceited justice. 
 Yet, great king, wake not yet my master's ven- 
 geance ; 
 But shake that viper off which gnaws your en- 
 trails! 
 I, and my fellow-subjects, are rcsolv'd, 
 If you persist, to stand your utmost fury, 
 Till our last blood drop from us. 
 
 War. O sir, lend
 
 SCENE IV. PERKIN WARBECKi 65 
 
 No ear ' to this seducer of my honour ! 
 What shall I call thee, thou grey-bearded scandal, 
 That kick'st against the sovereignty to which 
 Thou owest allegiance ? Treason is bold-fac*d, 
 And eloquent in mischief. Sacred king 
 Be deaf to his known malice ! 
 
 Dur, Rather yield 
 
 Unto those holy motions which inspire 
 The sacred heart of an anointed body ! 
 It is the surest policy in princes, 
 To govern well their own, than seek encroachment 
 Upon another's right. 
 
 Craw. The king is serious, 
 
 Deep in his meditation. 
 
 Dal, Lift them up 
 
 To heaven, his better genius ! 
 
 fVar. Can you study, 
 
 While such a devil raves I Oh, sir. 
 
 K. Ja. Well, bishop. 
 
 You'll not be drawn to mercy ? 
 
 Dur. Construe me 
 
 In like case by a subject of your own : 
 My resolution's fix'd ; king James, be counsell'd, 
 A greater fate waits on thee. 
 
 [^Exeunt Durham afid his attendants from 
 the walls. 
 
 K. Ja. Forage through 
 
 The country ; spare no prey of life or goods. 
 
 War. Oh, sir, then give me leave to yield to na- 
 ture : 
 I am most miserable ; had I been 
 Born what this clergyman would, by defame*, 
 
 Me ear."] So the old quarto reads corruptedly. 
 
 * Defame^'] Defamation, infamy. The word occurs often, 
 as Mr Steerens observes, in John Bale's Votaries, 1550, but there 
 it is properly spelt defamy, being derived from the old French 
 word defamie, 
 
 VOL. II. E
 
 66 PERKIN WARBECK. ACT III. 
 
 Baffle belief with, I had never sought 
 The truth of mine inheritance with rapes 
 Of women, or of infants murderM ; virgins 
 Deflowered ; old men butchered ; dwellings fir'd j 
 My land depopulated, and my people 
 Afflicted with a kingdom's devastation. 
 Shew more remorse, great king, or I shall never 
 Endure to see such havock with dry eyes : 
 Spare, spare, my dear, dear England ! 
 
 K. Ja. You fool your piety 
 
 Ridiculously, careful of an interest 
 Another man possesseth. Where's your faction! 
 Shrewdly the bishop guess'd of your adherents, 
 When not a petty burgess of some town, 
 No, not a villager hath yet appear'd, 
 In your assistance : that should make you whine, 
 And not your country's sufferance' as you term it. 
 
 Dal, The king is angry. 
 
 Craw. And the passionate duke, 
 
 Effeminately dolent *. 
 
 l^ar. The experience 
 
 In former trials, sir, both of mine own 
 Or other princes, cast out of their thrones. 
 Have so acquainted me, how misery 
 Is destitute of friends, or of relief, 
 That I can easily submit to taste 
 Lowest reproof, without contempt or words. 
 
 * Sufferance,"] Here improperly used for suffering. In the 
 same sense it occurs again in this play : 
 
 -'* I fear no chancre 
 
 More than thy being i>artiier in my suff'erance.'' 
 
 * Dolent.] A very uncommon word in English, meaning 
 miserable, sorrowful, and, in this place, submitting to reproaches; 
 dolentf r. Passionate, in the preceding line, means giTcn to 
 tears^ a sense Tcry frequent in old authors.
 
 SCENE IV. PERKIN WARBECK. 67 
 
 Enter Prion. 
 
 K. Ja. An humble-minded man. Now, what 
 intelligence 
 Speaks master secretary Prion. 
 
 Fri. Henry 
 
 Of England hath in open field overthrown 
 The armies who oppos'd him, in the right 
 Of this young prince. 
 
 K. Ja. His subsidies you mean : 
 
 More if you have it. 
 
 Fri. Howard earl of Surrey, 
 
 Backed by twelve earls and barons of the north. 
 An hundred knights and gentlemen of name, 
 And twenty thousand soldiers, is at hand 
 To raise your siege. Brooke, with a goodly navy. 
 Is admiral at sea, and Dawbeney follows 
 With an unbroken army for a second. 
 
 War. *Tis false ! they come to side with us. 
 
 K. Ja. Retreat ! 
 
 We shall not find them stones and walls to cope with. 
 Yet, duke of York, for such thou say*st thou art, 
 ril try thy fortune to the height ; to Surrey, 
 By Marchmont, I will send a brave defiance 
 For single combat. Once a king will venture 
 His person to an earl, with condition 
 Of spilling lesser blood. Surrey is bold, 
 And James resolvM. 
 
 War. Oh, rather, gracious sir. 
 
 Create me to this glory ; since my cause 
 Doth interest this fatal quarrel ; valued least, 
 I am his equal. 
 
 K. Ja. I will be the man. 
 
 March softly off ; where victory can reap 
 A harvest crown'd with triumph, toil is cheap. 
 
 \ExeunU
 
 68 PERKIN WARBECK. ACT. IV. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SCENE l.^The English Camp near Aytoiii on the 
 Borders. 
 
 Enter Surrey, Durham, Soldiers, icith drums 
 and colours. 
 
 Sur. Are all our braving enemies shrunk back ? 
 Hid in the fogs of their distemper'd climate. 
 Not daring to behold our colours wave 
 In spite of this infected air ? Can they 
 Look on the strength of Cuudrestine defac'd ? 
 The glory of Heydon-hall devasted ? that 
 Of Edington cast down 1 the pile of Fulden 
 Overthrown ! and this, the strongest of their forts^' 
 Old Ayton-Castle, yielded and demolished ? 
 And yet not peep abroad ? The Scots are bold, 
 Hardy in battle, but it seems the cause 
 They undertake considered, appears 
 Unjointed in the frame on't. 
 
 Dur. Noble Surrey, 
 
 Our royal master's wisdom is at all times 
 His fortune's harbinger ; for when he draws 
 His sword to threaten war, his providence 
 Settles on peace, the crowning of an empire. 
 
 [A trumpet is sounded. 
 
 Stir. Rank all in order ? 'tis a herald's sound ; 
 Some message from king James. Keep a fix'd sta- 
 tion. 
 
 Enter Marchmokt and another herald, 
 
 March. From Scotland's awful majesty we come 
 Unto the English general. 
 
 Sur, ^ To me ? 
 
 Say on.
 
 ^E5?EJ. PERKIN WARBECK. 69 
 
 March. Thus, then : the waste and prodigal 
 
 Effusion of so much guiltless blood, 
 As in two potent armies, of necessity,- 
 Must glut the earth's dry womb, his sweet com- 
 passion 
 JUath studied to prevent ; for which to thee, 
 Great earl of Surrey, in a single light, 
 He offers his own royal person ; fairly 
 Proposing these conditions only, that, 
 If victory conclude our master s right, 
 The earl shall deliver for his ransom 
 The town of Berwick to him, with the Fishgartlis ; 
 If Surrey shall prevail, the king will pay 
 A thousand pounds down present for his freedom, 
 And silence further arms : so speaks king James. 
 
 Sur. So speaks king James ; so like a king he 
 speaks. 
 Heralds, the English general returns 
 A sensible devotion from his heart, 
 His very soul, to this unfellowed grace : 
 For let the king know, gentle heralds, truly, 
 How his descent from his great throne, to honour 
 A stranger subject with so high a title 
 As his compeer in arms, hath conquer'd more 
 Than any sword could do : for which (my loyalty 
 Respected) I will serve his virtues ever 
 In all humility : but Berwick, say. 
 Is none of mine to part with : in affairs 
 Of princes, subjects cannot traffic rights 
 Inherent to the crown. My life is mine, 
 That dare I freely hazard ; and (with pardon 
 To some unbrib'd vain-glory) if his majesty 
 Shall taste a change of fate, his liberty 
 Shall meet no articles. If I fall, falling 
 So bravely, I refer me to his pleasure 
 Without condition ; and for this dear favour^ 
 
 m
 
 70 l'RKIN WARBJECK. ACT IT. 
 
 Say, if not countermanded, I will cease 
 Hostility, unless provok'd 
 
 March. This answer 
 
 We shall repeat unpartially. 
 
 Dur. With favour. 
 
 Pray have a little patience. [Apart to Surrey.] 
 
 Sir, you find 
 By these gay flourishes, how wearied travail 
 Inclines to willing rest ; here's but a prologue. 
 However confidently utter'd, meant 
 For some ensuing acts of peace : consider, 
 The time of year, unseasonableness of weather. 
 Charge, barrenness of" profit, and occasion. 
 Presents itself for honourable treaty. 
 Which we may make good use of; I will back, 
 As sent from you, in point of noble gratitude 
 Unto king James, with these his heralds; you 
 Shall shortly hear from me, my lord, for order 
 Of breathing' or proceeding; and king Henry, 
 Doubt not, will thank the service. 
 
 Sur. To your wisdom. 
 
 Lord bishop, I refer it. 
 
 Dur. Be it so then. 
 
 Sur. Heralds, accept this chain, and these few 
 crowns. 
 
 March. Our duty, noble general. 
 
 Dur. In part 
 
 Of retribution for such princely love, 
 My lord the general is pleased to shew 
 The king your master his sinccrest zeal, 
 By further treaty, by no common man ; 
 1 will myself return with you. 
 
 Sur. You oblige 
 
 My faithfullest affections to you, lord bishop. 
 
 March. All happiness attend your lordship ! 
 
 * lireuthingf\ Remaining where we are 
 
 10
 
 SCENE II. fERKIN WARBECK. 71 
 
 Sur. Come, friends, 
 
 And fellow-soldiers ; we, I doubt, shall meet 
 No enemies, but woods and hills to fight with : 
 Then *twere as good to feed and sleep at home ; 
 We may be free from danger, not secure. 
 
 [^Exeunt omnes, 
 
 SCENE IhTlie Scotish Camp. 
 
 Enter Warbeck and Prion. 
 
 War, Frion, oh Frion ! all my hopes of glory 
 Are at a stand. The Scotish king grows dull, 
 Frosty, and wayward, since this Spanish agent 
 Hath mix*d discourses with him ; they are private, 
 I am not call'd to counsel now. Confusion 
 On all his crafty shrugs ! I feel the fabric 
 Of my designs are tottering. 
 
 Fri. Henry's policies 
 
 Stir with too many engines. 
 
 fVar. Let his mines, 
 
 .Shap'd in the bowels of the earth, blow up 
 Works rais'd for my defence, yet can they never 
 Toss into air the freedom of my birth. 
 And disavow my blood : Plantagenets ! 
 I am my father's son still. But, oh Frion ! 
 When 1 bring into count with my disasters, 
 My wife's compartnership, my Kate's, my life*s, 
 Then, then my frailty feels an earthquake. Mis- 
 chief 
 Damn Henry's plots ! I will be England's king, 
 Or let my aunt of Burgundy report 
 My fall in the attempt, deserv'd ' our ancestors ! 
 
 ^ Deserved our ancestors.'] This is a rery quaint phrase for 
 deserTing, or worthy, of our ancestors.
 
 72 PERKIN WARBECK. ACT IV. 
 
 Fri. You grow too wild in passion ; if you will 
 Appear a prince indeed, confine your will 
 To moderation. 
 
 War. What a saucy rudeness 
 
 Prompts this distrust ? If? If I would appear? 
 Appear a prince ? Death throttle such deceits 
 Even in their birth of utterance ! cursed cozenage 
 Of trust ! You make me mad ; 'twere best, i^ 
 
 seems, 
 That I should turn impostor to myself, 
 Be mine own counterfeit, belie the truth 
 Of my dear mother's womb, the sacred bed 
 Of a prince murther'd, and a living baffled ! 
 
 Fri. Nay, if you have no ears to hear, I have 
 No breath to spend in vain. 
 
 War. Sir, sir, take heed ! 
 
 Gold, and the promise of promotion, rarely 
 Fail in temptation. 
 
 Fri. Why to me this ? 
 
 War. Nothing : 
 
 Speak what you will ; we are not sunk so low 
 But your advice may piece again the heart 
 Which many cares have broken : you were wont 
 In all extremities to talk of comfort ; 
 Have you none left now ? V\\ not interrupt you. 
 Good, bear with my distractions ! If king James 
 Deny us dwelling here, next, whither must I ? 
 I pray thee be not angry. 
 
 Fri. Sir, I told you 
 
 Of letters come from Ireland ; how the Cornish 
 Stomach their last defeat, and humbly sue 
 That with such forces, as you could partake ', 
 
 As you could partake] This may probably mean, '* as you 
 can get for partners in your fortunes."
 
 SCENE II. PERKIN WARBECK. JS 
 
 You would in person land in Cornwall, where 
 Thousands will entertain your title gladly. 
 
 War. Let me embrace thee, hug thee ! thou'st 
 revived 
 My comforts ; if my cousin king will fail, 
 Our cause will never. 
 
 Enter John a-Water, Herox, Astley, Ske- 
 
 TON. 
 
 Welcome, my tried friends, 
 You keep your brains awake in our defence. 
 Prion, advise with them of these affairs. 
 In which be wondrous secret : I will listen 
 What else concerns us here : be quick and wary. 
 
 [^Exeunt Warbeck. 
 
 Ast. Ah, sweet young prince ! Secretary, my 
 fellow-counsellors and 1 have consulted, and jump* 
 all in one opinion directly, that if this Scotch gar- 
 boils * do not fadge to our minds, we will pell-mell 
 run amongst the Cornish choughs presently, and in 
 a trice. 
 
 Sket. *Tis but going to sea and leaping ashore, 
 cut ten or twelve thousand unnecessary throats, 
 fire seven or eight towns, take half a dozen cities, 
 get into the market-place, crown him Richard the 
 Fourth, and the business is finished. 
 
 /. a-Wat. 1 grant you, quoth I, so far forth as men 
 may do, no more than men may do ; for it is good 
 to consider, when consideration may be to the pur- 
 pose, otherwise still, you shall pardon me : " little 
 said is soon amended." 
 
 * Jump,'] i. e. Agree. So in King Henry IV. Part I. <' In 
 some sort '^ jumps with ray humour." 
 
 ' Gurboils,] Broils, commotions ; from the old French gar^ 
 bouily explained by Cotgrave hurly-burly, great stir. To fadge, 
 which also occurs in this speech, is to suit, agree with ; and 19 
 used still in some of the proTinces.
 
 74 PERKIN WARBECK. ACT IV. 
 
 Fri. Then you conclude the Cornish action surest? 
 
 Her. We do so ; and doubt not but to thrive 
 abundantly. Ho, ray masters, had we known of 
 the commotion when we set sail out of Ireland, the 
 land had been ours ere this time. 
 
 Sket. Pish, pish ! 'tis but forbearing being an 
 earl or a duke a month or two longer. 1 say, and 
 say it again, if the work go not on apace, let me 
 never see new fashion more. I warrant you, I war- 
 rant you ; we will have it so, and so it shall be. 
 
 Ast. This is but a cold phlegmatic country ; not 
 stirring enough for men of spirit. CJive me the 
 hearts of England for my money ! 
 
 Sket. A man may batten ' there in a week only, 
 with hot loaves and butter, and a lusty cup of mus- 
 cadine * and sugar at breakfast, though he make ne- 
 ver a meal all the month after. 
 
 J. a-Wat. Surely, when I bore office, I found by 
 experience, that to be much troublesome, was to be 
 much wise and busy : 1 have observed, how filch- 
 ing and bragging has been the best service in these 
 last wars ; and therefore conclude peremptorily on 
 the design in England. Jf things and things may 
 fall out, as who can tell what or how but the end 
 will shew it. 
 
 Fri. Resolved like men of judgment I Here to 
 linger 
 More time, is but to lose it. Cheer the prince, 
 
 ' Battcny"] Grow fat, as in Marlow's Jew of Malta : 
 " Why, master, will you poison licr with a mess of ricc- 
 Porriffiee ? Tliat will picserve life, make her rooud and plump, 
 And batt(n more limn you're aware." 
 
 Again, in Shirley's Constant Maid : 
 " I cannot batten upon commcudation 
 Without my wages." 
 * Muscadine.'] A kind of wine brought from Crete ; so cal- 
 led, because it has a llavour of musk. The grapes of the vine 
 luTc the same taste, and are not unusual in boLhouscs.
 
 SCENE III. PERKIN WARBECK. 75 
 
 And haste him on to this ; on this depends, 
 Fame in success, or glory in our ends. 
 
 [^Exeunt omnes. 
 
 SCENE III. Another part of the same. 
 
 Enter King James, Durham, and Hialas. 
 
 Hial. France, Spain, and Germany combine a 
 league 
 Of amity with England ; nothing wants 
 For settling peace through Christendom, but love 
 Between the British monarchs, James, and Henry. 
 
 Dur. The English merchants, sir, have been re- 
 ceived 
 With general procession into Antwerp ; 
 The emperor confirms the combination. 
 
 Hial. The king of Spain resolves a marriage 
 For Katharine, his daughter, with prince Arthur. 
 
 Ditr. France courts this holy contract. 
 
 Hial. What can hinder 
 
 A quietness in England ? 
 
 Dur. But your suffrage' 
 
 To such a silly creature, mighty sir. 
 As is but in effect an apparition, 
 A shadow, a mere trifle ? 
 
 Hial. To this union 
 
 The good of both the church and commonwealth 
 Invite you. 
 
 Dur. To this unity, a mystery 
 
 Of providence points out a greater blessing 
 For both these nations, than our human reason 
 
 ^ But your suffrage.^ Excepting your suffrage, vote, orcoun- 
 fenance bestowed on such a creature. The bishop is continuing 
 the Spanish ambassador's speech.
 
 76 PERKIN WARBECK. ACT lY. 
 
 Can search into. King Henry hath a daughter. 
 
 The princess Margaret ; I need not urge, 
 
 What honour, what felicity can follow 
 
 On such affinity 'twixt two Christian kings, 
 
 Inleagued by ties of blood ; but sure I am. 
 
 If you, sir, ratify the peace propos'd, 
 
 I dare both motion and effect this marriage 
 
 For weal of both the kingdoms. 
 
 K. Ja. Dar'st thou, lord bishop ! 
 
 Dur. Put jt to trial, royal James, by sending 
 Some noble personage to the English court 
 By way of embassy. 
 
 Hial. Part of the business, 
 
 Shall suit my mediation. 
 
 K. Ja. Well ; what Heaven 
 
 Hath pointed out to be, must be ; you two 
 Are ministers, I hope, of blessed fate. 
 But herein only will 1 stand acquitted, 
 No blood of innocents shall buy my peace. 
 For Warbeck, as you nick ' him, came to me. 
 Commended by the states of Christendom ; 
 A prince, tho' in distress ; his fair demeanour, 
 Lovely behaviour, unappalled spirit, 
 Spoke him not base in blood, however clouded. 
 The brute beasts have their rocks and caves to fly 
 
 to. 
 And men the altars of the church ; to us 
 He came for refuge. Kings come near in nature 
 Unto the gods, in being touch'd with pity. 
 Yet, noble friends, his mixture with our blood, 
 Even with our own, shall no way interrupt 
 A general peace; only I will dismiss him 
 From my protection ; throughout my dominions 
 In safety, but not ever to return. 
 
 Hial. You are a just king. 
 
 Nick^"] For nickname.
 
 SCENE III. PERKIN WARBECR. 77 
 
 Dur, Wise, and herein happy. 
 
 K. Ja. Nor will we dally in affairs of weight : 
 Huntley, lord bishop, shall with you to England 
 Ambassador from us ; we will throw down 
 Our weapons; peace on all sides now. Repair [we]* 
 Unto our council ; we will soon be with you. 
 
 Hial. Delay shall question no dispatch : Hea- 
 ven crown it ! 
 
 [^Exeunt Durham and Hialas. 
 
 K. Ja, A league with Ferdinand ! a marriage 
 With English Margaret ! a free release 
 From restitution for the late affronts ! 
 Cessation from hostility, and all 
 For Warbeck, not delivered, but dismissed! 
 We could not have it better. Dalyell 
 
 Enter Dalyell. 
 
 Dal. Here, sir. 
 
 K. Ja. Are Huntley and his daughter sent for! 
 
 Dal. Sent for, 
 
 And come, my lord. 
 
 K. Ja. Say to the English prince. 
 
 We want his company. 
 
 Dal. He is at hand, sir. 
 
 Enter Warbeck, Katherine, Jane, Frion, 
 Heron, Sketon, John-a-Water, Astley. 
 
 K. Ja. Cousin, our bounty, favours, gentleness, 
 Our benefits, the hazard of our person. 
 Our people's lives, our land, hath evidenc'd 
 How much we have engag'd on your behalf: 
 
 Repair 
 
 XJnlo our council .1^ So the old copy reads. But the kiag 
 has been s|)eaking to the ambassadors, and, as he immediately 
 dismisses them, he cannot be supposed to ask them to repair to 
 his council. For this reason, the insertion of the word in brack- 
 ets was rendered absolutely requisite.
 
 78 PERKIN WARBECK. ACT IV. 
 
 How trivial, and how dangerous our hopes 
 Appear, how fruitless our attempts in war, 
 How windy, rather smoky, your assurance 
 Of party shows, we might in vain repeat. 
 But now, obedience to the mother church, 
 A father's care upon his country's weal, 
 The dignity of state, directs our wisdom, 
 To seal an oath of peace through Christendom; 
 To which we are sworn already ; it is you 
 Must only seek new fortunes in the world, 
 And find an harbour elsewhere. As I promis'd 
 On your arrival, you have met no usage 
 Deserves repentance in your being here : 
 But yet I must live master of mine own. 
 However, what is necessary for you 
 At your departure, I am well content 
 You be accommodated with ; provided 
 Delay prove not my enemy. 
 
 IVar. It shall not, 
 
 Most glorious prince. The fame of my designs 
 Soars higher, than report of ease and sloth 
 Can aim at. I acknowledge all your favours 
 Boundless and singular ; am only wretched 
 In words as well as means, to thank the grace 
 That flow'd so liberally. Two empires firmly 
 You're lord of, Scotland and duke Richard's heart: 
 My claim to mine inheritance shall sooner 
 Fail, than my life to serve you, best of kings. 
 And, witness Edward's blood in me, I am 
 More loath to part with such a great example 
 Of virtue, than all other mere respects. 
 But, sir, my last suit is, you will not force 
 From me, what you have given, this chaste lady, 
 Resolved on all extremes. 
 
 Kath. I am your wife, 
 
 No human power can or shall divorce 
 My faith from duty.
 
 SCENE III. PERKIN WARBECK. 79 
 
 lVar Such another treasure 
 
 The earth is bankrupt of. 
 
 K. Ja, I gave her, cousin, 
 
 And must avow the gift ; vi^ill add withall 
 A furniture becoming her high birth, 
 And unsuspected constancy ; provide 
 For your attendance. We will part good friends. 
 
 \_E,vit King and Dalyell. 
 
 Wm-. The Tudor hath been cunning in his plots ; 
 His Fox of Durham would not fail at last. 
 But what] our cause and courage are our own: 
 Be men, my friends, and let our cousin king, 
 See how we follow fate as willingly 
 As malice follows us. You're all resolved 
 For the west parts of England? 
 
 All. Cornwall, Cornwall I 
 
 Fri. The inhabitants expect you daily. 
 
 IVar, Cheerfully 
 
 Draw all our ships out of the harbour, friends ; 
 Our time of stay doth seem too long, we must 
 Prevent intelligence; about it suddenly. 
 
 All. A prince, a prince, a prince ! 
 
 [^Exeunt Heron, Sketon, Astley, 
 and John a-Water. 
 
 War. Dearest, admit not into thy pure thoughts 
 The least of scruples, which may charge their soft- 
 ness 
 With burden of distrust. Should I prove wanting 
 To noble courage now, here were the trial : 
 But I am perfect, sweet ; I fear no change, 
 More than thy being partner in my sufferance'. 
 
 Kath. My fortunes, sir, have arm*d me to en- 
 counter 
 What chance soe*er they meet with. Jane, *tis fit 
 Thou stay behind, for whither wilt thou wander? 
 
 * Sufferance^'] Suffering. See aboTe, p. 66.
 
 so PERKIN WARBECK. ACT IT* 
 
 Jane. Never till death will I forsake my mistress. 
 Nor then in wishing to die with you gladly. 
 
 Kath. Alas, good soul ! 
 
 Fri. Sir, to your aunt of Burgundy 
 
 I will relate your present undertakings ; 
 From her expect on all occasions, welcome. 
 You cannot find me idle in your services. 
 
 War. Go, Friou, go ! wise men know how to 
 sooth 
 Adversity, not serve it : thou hast waited 
 Too long on expectation ; never yet 
 Was any nation read of, so besotted 
 In reason, as to adore the setting sun. 
 Fly to the archduke's court ; say to the duchess^ 
 Her nephew, with fair Katherine, his wife, 
 Are in their expectation to begin 
 The raising of an empire. If they fail, 
 Yet the report will never. Farewel, Frion ! 
 
 [Exit Frion. 
 This man, Kate, has been true, though now of late, 
 I fear, too much familiar with the Fox '. 
 
 Enter Huntley and Dalyell. 
 
 Hunt. I come to take my leave ; you need not 
 doubt 
 My interest in this sometime-child of mine; 
 She's all yours now, good sir. Oh, poor lost crea- 
 ture ! 
 Heaven guard thee with much patience ; if thou 
 
 canst 
 Forget thy title to old Huntley's family, 
 As much of peace will settle in thy mind 
 As thou canst wish to taste, but * in thy grave. 
 
 * The Fox.'] A pun upon the name of the crafty Fox, bishop 
 of Durham. 
 
 ' Butj~\ Was Tery generally used in the sense of except.
 
 SCENE III. PERK.IN WARBECK. 81 
 
 Accept my tears yet, pr'ythee, they are tokens 
 Of charity, as well as of affection, 
 
 Kath. This is the crueli'st, farewel ! 
 
 Hunt. Love, young gentleman, 
 
 This model of my griefs ; she calls you husband ; 
 Then be not jealous of a parting kiss : 
 It is a father's, not a lover's ofF'ring. [^Kisses her. 
 Take it, my last. 1 am too much a child. 
 Exchange of passion is to little use, 
 So 1 should grow too foolish. Goodness guide 
 thee ! \^Exit Huntley. 
 
 Kath. Most miserable daughter! Have you 
 ought 
 To add, sir, to our sorrows ? 
 
 Dal. I resolve, 
 
 Fair lady, with your leave, to wait on all 
 Your fortunes in my person, if your lord 
 Vouchsafe me entertainment. 
 
 War. We will be bosom friends, most noble Dal- 
 yell; 
 For I accept this tender of your love 
 Beyond ability of thanks to speak it. 
 Clear thy drown' d eyes, my fairest ; time and in- 
 dustry 
 Will shew us better days, or end the worst. 
 
 SCENE W.-^The Palace at Westminster. 
 
 Enter Oxford and Dawbeney. 
 
 Oxf. No news from Scotland yet, my lord ? 
 
 Daw. Not any 
 
 But what king Henry knows himself; I thought 
 Our armies should have march'd that way ; his 
 
 mind. 
 It seems, is alter' d. 
 
 VOL. II. F
 
 82 PERKIN WARBECK. ACT IV. 
 
 Oxf. Victory attends 
 
 His standard everywhere. 
 
 Daw. Wise princes, Oxford, 
 
 Fight not alone with forces. Providence 
 Directs and tutors strength ; else elephants, 
 And barbed horses', might as well prevail, 
 As the most subtile stratagems of war. 
 
 Oxf. The Scottish king shew'd more than com- 
 mon bravery, 
 In proffer of a combat hand to hand 
 With Surrey. 
 
 Daw. And but shew'd it ; northern bloods 
 Are gallant being fired, but the cold climate. 
 Without good store of fuel, quickly freezeth 
 The glowing flames. 
 
 Oxf. Surrey, upon my life. 
 
 Would not have shrunk an hair's breath. 
 
 Daw. May he forfeit 
 
 The honour of an English name and nature *, 
 Who would not have embraced it with a greediness, 
 As violent as hunger runs to food. 
 'Twas an addition, any worthy spirit 
 Would covet, next to immortality. 
 Above all joys of life ; we all miss'd shares 
 In that great opportunity. / 
 
 Enter King Henry and Urswick whispering. 
 
 Oxf. The king : 
 
 See he comes smiling. 
 
 * Barbed horses."] War-horsts, xf'ith their trappings and ar- 
 mour on. So in King Hichard HI. : 
 
 " Aud now, instead of inoiiiiting barbed steeds 
 To frigiit die souls of fearful aiiversarics, 
 He capffs uintbly in a latlj's chamber." 
 
 * The honour of an English name aud nature."] I suppose the 
 poet means '* the honour of an English name, and the nature of 
 an Englishman." The four last words are printed with Italics in 
 the originals. 
 
 10
 
 SCENE IV. PERKIN WARBECK. 83 
 
 Daw. Oh, the game runs smooth 
 
 On his side then, believe it : cards well shuffled, 
 And dealt with cunning, bring some gamester thrift, 
 But others must rise losers. 
 
 K. Hen. The train takes ? 
 
 Urs. Most prosperously. 
 
 K. Hen. I knew it should not miss. 
 
 He fondly angles who will hurl his bait 
 Into the water, 'cause the fish at first 
 Plays round about the line, and dares not bite. 
 Lords, we may reign your king yet. Dawbeney, 
 
 Oxford, 
 Urswick, must Perkin wear the crown ? 
 
 Daw. A slave. 
 
 Oxf. A vagabond. 
 
 Urs. A glow-worm. 
 
 K. Hen. Now, if Prion, 
 
 His practiced politician, wear a brain 
 Of proof, king Perkin will in progress ride 
 Through all his large dominions ; let us meet him, 
 And tender homage. Ha, sirs ? Liegemen ought 
 To pay their fealty. 
 
 Daiv. 'Would the rascal were, 
 
 With all his rabble, within twenty miles 
 Of London, 
 
 K. Hen. Farther off is near enough 
 To lodge him in his home. Pll wager odds, 
 Surrey and all his men are either idle. 
 Or hasting back ; they have not work, I doubt, 
 To keep them busy. 
 
 Daw. 'Tis a strange conceit, sir. 
 
 K. Hen. Such voluntary favours as our people 
 In duty aid us with, we never scatter'd 
 On cobweb parasites, or lavished out 
 In riot, or a needless hospitality : 
 No undeserving favourite doth boast 
 His issues from our treasury ; our charge.
 
 84 PERKIN WARBECK. ACT IV 
 
 Flows through all Europe, proving us but steward 
 Of every contribution, which provides 
 Against the creeping canker ot disturbance. 
 Is it not rare then, in this toil of state 
 Wherein we are embarked, with breach of sleep. 
 Cares, and the noise of trouble, that our mercy 
 Returns nor thanks, nor comfort? Still the West 
 Murmur and threaten innovation. 
 Whisper our government tyrannical, 
 Deny us what is ours, nay, spurn their lives, 
 Of which they are but owners by our gift. 
 It must not be. 
 
 Oxf. It must not, should not. 
 
 Enter a Post. 
 
 K. Hen. So then, 
 
 To whom ? 
 
 Post. This packet to your sacred majesty. 
 
 K. Hem. Sirrah, attend without. \Rx'\t Post. 
 
 Oxf. News from the North, upon my life. 
 
 Daw. Wise Henry 
 
 Divines aforehand of events: with him 
 Attempts and execution arc one act. 
 
 K. Hen. Urswick, thine ear ; Frion is caught, 
 the man 
 Of cunning is out-reach'd : we must be safe : 
 Should reverend Morton, our archbishop, move 
 To a translation higher yet, I tell thee. 
 My Durham owns a brain deserves that see. 
 He*s nimble in his industry, and mounting: 
 Thou hear*st me ? 
 
 Urs. And conceive your highness fitly. 
 
 K. Hen. Daw ben ey and Oxford, since our army 
 stands 
 Entire, it wert; a weakness to admit 
 The rust of laziness to eat amongst them : 
 Set forward toward Salisbury ; the plains
 
 SCNE V. PERKlSr WARBECK. R5 
 
 Are most commodious for their exercise, 
 Ourselt'vvill take a muster of them there ; 
 And, or disband them with reward, or else 
 Dispose as best concerns us. 
 
 Daw. Salisbury ? 
 
 Sir, all is peace at Salisbury. 
 
 K. Hen. Dear friend 
 
 The charge must be our own ; we would a little 
 Partake the pleasure with our subjects' ease. 
 Shall 1 entreat your loves \ 
 
 Oxf. Command our lives. 
 
 K. Hen. You're men know how to do, not to 
 forethink. 
 My bishop is a jewel tried, and perfect ; 
 A jewel, lords. The post who brought these letters, 
 Must speed another to the mayor of Exeter ; 
 Urswick, dismiss him not. 
 
 Urs. He waits your pleasure. 
 
 K. Hen. Perkin a king ? a king ! 
 
 Urs. My gracious lord. 
 
 K. Hen. Thoughts, busied in the sphere of royalty, 
 Fix not on creeping worms, without their stings, 
 Mere excrements of earth. The use of time 
 Is thriving safety, and a wise prevention 
 Of ills expected. We're resolved for Salisbury. 
 
 [E.xeimt. 
 
 SCENE V The Coast of Cornwall. 
 
 A shout within. Enter Warbeck, Dalyell, 
 Katherixe, awe? Jane. 
 
 War. After so many storms as wind and seas 
 Have threaten* d to our weather-beaten ships, 
 At last, sweet fairest, we are safe arrived 
 On our dear mother earth, ungrateful only 
 To heaven and us, in yielding sustenance 
 To sly usurpers of our throne and right.
 
 86 PERKIN WARBECK. ACT IV. 
 
 These general acclamations, are an omen 
 
 Of happy process to their welcome lord : 
 
 They flock in troops, and from all parts, with wings 
 
 Of duty fly, to lay their hearts before us. 
 
 Unequall'd pattern of a matchless wife, 
 
 How fares my dearest yet ? 
 
 Kath. Confirmed in health ; 
 
 By which I may the better undergo 
 The roughest face of change ; but I shall learn 
 Patience to hope, since silence courts affliction, 
 For comforts to this truly noble gentleman, 
 (Rare unexampled pattern of a friend ;) 
 And, my beloved Jane, the willing follower. 
 Of all misfortunes. 
 
 Dal. Lady, I return 
 
 But barren crops of early protestations, 
 Frost-bitten in the spring of fruitless hopes. 
 
 Jane. 1 wait but as the shadow to the body, 
 For, madam, without you let me be nothing. 
 
 War. None talk of sadness, we are on the way 
 Which leads to victory : keep cowards' thoughts 
 With desperate suUenness ! The lion faints not 
 Lock'd in a grate, but, loose, disdains all force 
 Which bars his prey ; and we are lion-hearted. 
 Or else no king of beasts. Hark, how they shout, 
 
 [Another shouts 
 Triumphant in our cause ! bold confidence 
 Marches on bravely, cannot quake at danger. 
 
 Enter Sketon. 
 
 Sket. Save king Richard the Fourth, save thee 
 king of hearts ! The Cornish blades are men of 
 mettle; have proclaimed through Bodnam, and the 
 whole country, my sweet prince monarch of Fng- 
 land : four thousand tall yeomen', with bow and 
 
 ' Tallj/pomen.] Tall is not used here in the common sense
 
 SCENE V. PERKIN WARBECK. 8? 
 
 sword, already vow to live and die at the foot of 
 king Richard. 
 
 Enter Astley. 
 
 Ast. The mayor, our fellow-counsellor, is ser- 
 vant for an emperor. Exeter is appointed for the 
 rendezvous, and nothing wants to victory but cou- 
 rage and resolution. Sigillatuin et datum decimo 
 Septembris, anno regni regis primo, et ccetera; 
 covjirmatum est. All's cock-sure. 
 
 War. To Exeter, to Exeter, march on : 
 Commend us to our people ; we in person 
 Will lend them double spirits, tell them so. 
 
 Sket. and Ast. King Richard, king Richard ! 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 War. A thousand blessings guard our lawful 
 arms ! 
 A thousand horrors pierce our enemies' souls! 
 Pale fear unedge tlieir weapon's sharpest points, 
 And when they draw their arrows to the head. 
 Numbness shall strike their sinews ! Such advantage 
 Hath majesty in its pursuit of justice. 
 That on the proppers up of Truth's old throne, 
 It both enlightens counsel, and gives heart 
 To execution ; whilst the throats of traitors 
 Lie bare before our mercy. O divinity 
 Of royal birth ! how it strikes dumb the tongues 
 Whose prodigality of breath is brib'd 
 By trains to greatness ! Princes are but men. 
 Distinguished in the fineness of their frailty; 
 
 of high, but in that of stout or bold^ which was also yery usual 
 in old writers. Robin Hood, in the old play of the Piuner of 
 Wakefield, says : 
 
 *' We be lliree tall yeomen, and tlioii but one." 
 And Bobadil says to Downright, in Every Man in his Hu- 
 mour : ** Gentleman of Talour, I do beliere in thee, hear me 
 - - tall man," &c.
 
 6s PERKIN WARBECK. ACT V, 
 
 Yet not so gross in beauty of the mind ; 
 
 For there*s a fire more sacred, purifies 
 
 The dross of mixture. Herein stands the odds, 
 
 Subject^ are men ; on earth kings men and gods. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 SCENE I. Cornioall. 
 
 Enter Katherine and Jane, in riding-suits,, 
 with one servant. 
 
 Kath. It is decreed ; and we must yield to fate, 
 Whose angry justice, tho* it threaten ruin, 
 Contempt, and poverty, is all but trial 
 Of a weak woman's constancy in suffering. 
 Here in a stranger's, and an enemy's land, 
 Forsaken and unfurnished of all hopes. 
 But such as wait on misery, I range 
 To meet affliction wheresoe'er 1 tread. 
 3Vly train, and pomp of servants, is reduced 
 To one kind gentlewoman, and this groom. 
 Sweet Jane, now whither must we ? 
 
 Jane. To your ships. 
 
 Dear lady, and turn home. 
 
 Kath, Home ! I have none. 
 
 Fly thou to Scotland ; thou hast friends will weep 
 For joy to bid thee welcome ; but, oh Jane ! 
 My Jane, my Iriends are desperate of comfort. 
 As I must be of them ; the common charity, 
 Good people's alms, and prayers of the gentle. 
 Is the revenue must support my state. 
 As for my native country, since it once
 
 SCENE 1. PERKIN WARBECK. 89 
 
 Saw me a princess in the height of greatness 
 
 My birth allowM me ; here 1 make a vow, 
 
 Scotland shall never see me, being fallen, 
 
 Or lessened in my fortunes. Never, Jane, 
 
 Never to Scotland more will I return. 
 
 Could 1 be England's queen, a glory, Jane, 
 
 I never fawn'd on, yet the king who gave me, 
 
 Hath sent me with my husband from his presence ; 
 
 Deliver'd us suspected to his nation ; 
 
 Rendered us spectacles to time and pity: 
 
 And is it fit 1 should return to such 
 
 As only listen after our descent 
 
 From happiness enjoy'd, to misery. 
 
 Expected, tho* uncertain ? Never, never ; 
 
 Alas, why dost thou weep ? and that poor creature 
 
 Wipe his wet checks too ? Let me feel alone 
 
 Extremities, who know to give them harbour : 
 
 Nor thou nor he has cause. You may live safely. 
 
 Jane. There is no safety whilst your dangers, 
 madam, 
 Are every way apparent. 
 
 Serv. Pardon, lady ; 
 
 I cannot choose but shew my honest heart ; 
 You were ever my good lady. 
 
 Kath. Oh, dear souls. 
 
 Your shares in grief are too too much. 
 
 Enter Dalyell. 
 
 Dal. I bring. 
 
 Fair princess, news of further sadness yet. 
 Than your sweet youth hath been acquainted with. 
 
 Kath. Not more, my lord, than I can welcome : 
 speak it, 
 The worst, the worst I look for. 
 
 Dal. All the Cornish, 
 
 At Exeter were by the citizens 
 Repulsed, encounter'd by the earl of Devonshire,
 
 $0 PERKIN WARBECK. ACT V, 
 
 And Other worthy gentlemen of the country. 
 Your husband marched to Taunton, and was thete 
 Affronted ' by king Henry's chamberlain ; 
 The king himself in person, with his army* 
 Advancing nearer, to renew the fight 
 On all occasions. But the night before 
 The battles were to join, your husband, privately 
 Accompanied with some few horse, departed 
 From out the camp, and posted none knows whither. 
 
 Kath. Fled without battle given ? 
 
 Dal. Fled, but followed 
 
 By Dawbeney; all his party's left to taste 
 King Henry's mercy, for to that they yielded ; 
 Victorious without bloodshed. 
 
 Kath. Oh, my sorrows ! 
 
 If both our lives had proved the sacrifice 
 To Henry's tyranny, we had fall'n like princes, 
 And robb'd him of the glory of his pride. 
 
 Dal. Impute it not to faintness or to weakness 
 Of noble courage, lady, but foresight : 
 For by some secret friend he had intelligence 
 Of being bought and sold by his base followers. 
 Worse yet remains untold. 
 
 Kath. No, no, it cannot. 
 
 Dal. I fear you are betray'd. The Earl of Oxford 
 Runs hot in your pursuit. 
 
 Kath. He shall not need, 
 
 We'll run as hot in resolution, gladly 
 To make the earl our jailor. 
 
 Jane. Madam, madam, 
 
 They come, they come ! 
 
 * Jffronted.'] Met directly in front, or face to face. As in 
 Fuimus Trocs : 
 
 " Let's then disniiss the legale witli a frown, 
 And draw our forces toward tlie sea, to join 
 Willi the four kings of Kent, and so affront 
 His first arrival."
 
 SCIINE I. PERKIN WARBECk! Ol 
 
 Enter Oxford, with his followers. 
 
 Dal. Keep back, or he who dares 
 
 Rudely to violate the law of honour. 
 Runs on my sword. 
 
 Kath. Most noble sir, forbear ! 
 
 AVhat reason draws you hither, gentlemen ? 
 Whom seek ye ? 
 
 Oxf. All stand off! With favour, lady, 
 
 From Henry, England's king, I would present, 
 Unto the beauteous princess, Katherine Gordon, 
 The tender of a gracious entertainment. 
 
 Kath. We are that princess whom your master 
 king 
 Pursues with reaching arms, to draw into 
 His power : let him use tyranny, 
 We shall not be his subjects. 
 
 0.vf. My commission 
 
 Extends no further, excellentest lady. 
 Than to a service ; 'tis king Henry's pleasure, 
 That you, and all that have relation to you, 
 Be guarded as becomes your birth and greatness. 
 For, rest assured, sweet princess, that not ought 
 Of what you do call yours, shall find disturbance. 
 Or any welcome, other than what suits 
 Your high condition. 
 
 Kath. By what title, sir, 
 
 May I acknowledge you ? 
 
 Oxf, Your servant, lady. 
 
 Descended from the line of Oxford's earls. 
 Inherits what his ancestors before him 
 Were owners of. 
 
 Kath. Your king is herein royal, 
 
 That by a peer so ancient in desert. 
 As well as blood, commands us to his presence. 
 
 0.rf Invites you, princess, not commands. 
 
 Kath. Prav use
 
 92 PERKIN WARBECK. ACT. V. 
 
 Your own phrase as you list ; to your protection. 
 Both 1 and mine submit. 
 
 Oxf. There's in your number 
 
 A nobleman whom fame hath bravely spoken. 
 To him the king my master bade me say 
 How willingly he courts his friendship ; far 
 From an entbrcement, more than what in terms 
 Of courtesy, so great a prince may hope for. 
 
 Dal. My name is Dalyell. 
 
 Oxf. 'Tis a name hath won 
 
 Both thanks and wonder, from report ; my lord, 
 The court of England emulates your merit, 
 And covets to embrace you. 
 
 Dal. 1 must wait on 
 
 The princess in her fortunes. 
 
 Oxf. Will you please, 
 
 Great lady, to set forward ? 
 
 Kath. Being driven 
 
 By fate, it were in vain to strive with heaven. 
 
 [^Exeuiit. 
 
 SCENE W.Salisburi/, 
 
 Enter King Henry, Surrey, Urswick, and a 
 guard of Soldiers. 
 
 K. Hen. The counterfeit king Perkin is escaped ; 
 Escape so let him ; he is hedg'd too fast 
 Within the circuit of our English pale ', 
 To steal out of our ports, or leap the walls 
 
 * Our English pale."] By the English fialc was generally meant 
 that part of Ireland iu which English colonics were planted, and 
 the English language spoken, in opposition to the other parts 
 inhabited by the wild Irish. But, in the text, the whole Eng- 
 liiih dominions seem to be included in the term.
 
 SCENE II. PERKIN WARBECK. 93 
 
 Which guard our land : the seas are rough, and 
 
 wider 
 Than his weak arms can tug with. Surrey, hence- 
 forth 
 Your king- may reign in quiet ; turmoils past. 
 Like some unquiet dream, have rather busied 
 Our fancy, than affrighted rest of state. 
 But, Surrey, why, in articHng a peace 
 With James of Scotland, was not restitution 
 Of losses which our subjects did sustain 
 By the Scotch inroads, question'd ? 
 Sur. Both demanded 
 
 And urg'd, my lord ; to which the king replied. 
 In modest merriment, but smiling earnest. 
 How that our master Henry was much abler 
 To bear the detriments, than he repay them. 
 
 K. Hen. The young man, 1 believe, spake honest 
 truth ; 
 He studies to be wise betimes. Has, Urswick, 
 Sir Rice ap Thomas, and lord Brook, our steward, 
 ReturnM the Western gentlemen full thanks, 
 From us, for their tried loyalties ? 
 
 Urs '. They have : 
 
 Which, as if life and health had reign'd amongst 
 
 them. 
 With open hearts they joyfully received. 
 
 K. Hen. Young Buckingham is a fair-natur'd 
 prince. 
 Lovely in hopes, and worthy of his father ; 
 Attended by an hundred knights and squires 
 Of special name, he tender'd humble service. 
 Which we must ne'er forget : and Devonshire's 
 
 wounds. 
 Though slight, shall find sound cure in our respect. 
 
 ' This speech is given to Surrey in the quarto, but it evidcntlj
 
 94 PERKIN WARBECK. ACT V. 
 
 jE/cr Dawbeney, with a guard, leading inW ar- 
 BECK, Heron, John a-Water, Astley, and 
 Sketon, chained. 
 
 Date. Life to the king, and safety fix his throne ! 
 I here present you, royal sir, a shadow 
 Of majesty, but, in effect, a substance 
 Ot pity, a young man, in nothing grown 
 To ripeness, but the ambition of your mercy : 
 Perkin, the Christian world's strange wonder. 
 
 K. Hen. Dawbeney, 
 
 We observe no wonder ; I behold, 'tis true, 
 An ornament of nature, fine and polished, 
 A handsome youth indeed, but not admire him. 
 How came he to thy hands ? 
 
 Daw. From sanctuary 
 
 At Beweley, near Southampton ; register'd 
 With these few followers, for persons priviledged. 
 
 K. Hen. 1 must not thank you, sir; you were to 
 blame 
 To infringe the liberty of houses sacred : 
 Dale we be irreligious 1 
 
 Daw. Gracious lord, 
 
 They voluntarily resign'd themselves, 
 Without compulsion. 
 
 K. Hen. So ? 'twas very well ; 
 
 'Twas very, very well. Turn now thine eyes, 
 Young man, upon thyself, and thy past actions ! 
 What revels in combustion through our kingdom, 
 A frenzy of aspiring youth hath danced, 
 Till, wanting breath, thy feet of pride have slipt 
 To break thy neck ! 
 
 War. But not my heart ; my heart 
 
 Will mount, till every drop of blood be frozen 
 
 bcldngs to Urswick, who is present, and to whom king Henry 
 hail addressed the question, to which this is the reply.
 
 SCENE II. PERKIN WARBECK. 96 
 
 By death's perpetual winter : if the sun 
 Of majesty be darken'd, let the sun 
 Of life be hid from me, in an eclipse 
 Lasting and universal ! Sir, remember 
 There was a shooting in of light, when Richmond, 
 Not aiming at a crown, retired, and gladly, 
 For comfort to the duke of Bretaine's court. 
 Richard, who sway*d the sceptre, was reputed 
 A tyrant then ; yet then, a dawning glimmer'd 
 To some few wand' ring remnants, promising day 
 When first they ventur'd on a frightful shore 
 At Milford Haven. 
 
 Daw. Whither speeds his boldness \ 
 
 Check his rude tongue, great sir. 
 
 K. Hen. Oh, let him range : 
 
 The player's on the stage still ; 'tis his part ; 
 He does but act. What follow'd. 
 
 War. Bos worth Field ; 
 
 Where, at an instant, to the world's amazement, 
 A morn to Richmond, and a night to Richard, 
 Appear'd at once ; the tale is soon applied : 
 Fate which crown'd these attempts when least as- 
 
 sur'd. 
 Might have befriended others, like resolv'd. 
 
 K. Hen. A pretty gallant ! Thus, your aunt of 
 Burgundy, 
 Your dutchess aunt inform'd her nephew ; so 
 The lesson prompted, and well conn'd, was moulded 
 Into familiar dialogue, oft rehearsed. 
 Till, learnt by heart, 'tis now received for truth. 
 
 fVar. Truth, in her pure simplicity, wants art 
 To put a feigned blush on : scorn wears only 
 Such fashion as commends to gazers' eyes 
 Sad ulcerated novelty, far beneath 
 The sphere of majesty : in such a court 
 Wisdom and gravity are proper robes,
 
 96 I*ERKIN WARBECK. ACt V. 
 
 By which the sovereign is best distinguished 
 From zanies ' to his greatness. 
 
 K. Hen. Sirrah, shift 
 
 Your antick pageantry, and now appear 
 In your own nature, or you*ll taste the danger 
 Of fooling out of season. 
 
 War. I expect 
 
 No less, than what severity calls justice, 
 And politicians safety. Let such beg 
 As feed on alms ; but, if there can be mercy 
 In a protested enemy, then may it 
 Descend to these poor creatures, whose engagements 
 To th' bettering of their fortunes, have incurred 
 A loss of all ; to them, if any charity 
 Flow from some noble orator, in death, 
 I owe the fee of thankfulness. 
 
 K. Hen. So brave ! 
 
 What a bold knave is this ! Which of the rebels 
 Has been the mayor of Cork ? 
 
 Daw. This wise formality : 
 
 Kneel to the king, ye rascals ! \J^hey kneel, 
 
 K. Hen. Canst thou hope 
 
 A pardon where thy guilt is so apparent ? 
 
 J. a-Wat. Under your favours, as men are men, 
 they may err : for I confess, respectively, in taking 
 great parts, the one side prevailing, the other side 
 must go down : herein the point is clear, if the pro- 
 verb hold, that hanging goes by destiny, that it is to 
 little purpose to say, this thing or that shall be thus 
 or thus ; for, as the fates will have it, so it must 
 be ; and who can help it ? 
 
 Daw. O blockhead ! thou a privy-councillor ] 
 Beg life and cry aloud, " Heaven save king Henry !'* 
 
 * Zanies,'] BufToons, mimics, mcrry-andrcws. As in Lotc' 
 Labour's Lust : 
 
 " Some carry-talc, some pleasc-man, some slight zanyJ'*
 
 SCENE II. PERKIN WARBECK. 97 
 
 J. a-JVaf. Every man knows what is best, as it 
 happens : for my own part, I believe it is true, if 
 1 be not deceived, that kings must be kings, and 
 subjects subjects. But which is which, you shall 
 pardon me for that ; whether we speak or hold our 
 peace, all are mortal, no man knows his end. 
 
 K. Hen. We trifle time with follies. 
 
 AIL Mercy, mercy. 
 
 K. Hen. Urswick, command the dukeling and 
 these fellows 
 To Digby, the lieutenant of the Tower : 
 With safety let them be convey'd to London. 
 It is our pleasure no uncivil outrage, 
 Taunts, or abuse be sullbr'd to their persons ; 
 They shall meet fairer law than they deserve. 
 Time may restore their wits, whom vain ambition 
 Hath many years distracted. 
 
 War. Noble thoughts 
 
 Meet freedom in captivity. The Tower ? 
 Our childhood's dreadful nursery. 
 
 K. Hen. No more ! 
 
 Urs. Come, come, you shall have leisure to be- 
 think you. 
 \^Exit. Urs. liith Perkin and his folloivcrs. 
 
 K. Hen. Was ever so much impudence in forgery \ 
 The custom sure of being styled a king, 
 Hath fastened in his thought that he is such. 
 Jiut we shall teach the lad another language ; 
 'Tis good we have him fast. 
 
 Daw. The hangman's physic 
 
 Will purge this saucy humour. 
 
 K. Hen. Very likely : 
 
 Yet we could temper mercy with extremity, 
 Being not too far provoked. 
 
 VOL. II.
 
 98 PERKIN WARBECK. ACT V. 
 
 Enter Oxford, Katherine in her richest attire^ 
 Jane, and attendants. 
 
 Oxf. Great sir, be pleased, 
 
 With your accustomM grace, to entertain 
 The princess Katherine Gordon. 
 
 K. Hen. Oxford, herein 
 
 We must beshrevv thy knowledge of our nature. 
 A lady of her birth and virtues could not 
 Have found us so unfurnish'd of good manners, 
 As not, on notice given, to have met her 
 Halfway in point of love. Excuse, fair cousin, 
 The oversight. Oh fie ! you may not kneel : 
 *Tis most unfitting : first, vouchsafe this welcome, 
 A welcome to your own, for you shall find us 
 But guardian to your fortune and your honours. 
 
 Kath. My fortunes and mine honours are weak, 
 champions, 
 As both are now befriended, sir ; however, 
 Both bow before your clemency. 
 
 K. Hen. Our arms 
 
 Shall circle them from malice. A sweet lady ! 
 Beauty incomparable ! Here lives majesty 
 At league with love. 
 
 Kath. Oh, sir, 1 have a husband. 
 
 K. Hen. We'll prove your father, husband, friend, 
 and servant. 
 Prove what you wish to grant us. Lords, be careful 
 A patent presently be drawn, for issuing 
 A thousand pounds from our exchequer yearly. 
 During our cousin's life ; our queen shall be 
 Your chief companion, our own court your home. 
 Our subjects all your servants. 
 
 Kath. But my husband \ 
 
 K. Hen. By all descriptions, you are noble Dal- 
 
 yell. 
 
 Whose generous truth hath fam'd a rare observance. 
 
 10
 
 SCENE III. PERKIN WARBECK. ^ 
 
 We thank you ; 'tis a goodness gives addition 
 To every title, boasted from your ancestry, 
 In all most worthy. 
 
 Dal. Worthier than your praises, 
 
 Right princely sir, I need not glory in. 
 
 K. Hen. Embrace him lords, whoever calls you 
 mistress, 
 Is lifted in our charge '. A goodlier beauty 
 Mine eyes yet ne'er encounter'd, 
 
 Kath. Cruel misery 
 
 Of fate ! What rests to hope for \ 
 
 K. Hen. Forward, lords. 
 
 To London. Fair, ere long, I shall present you 
 With a glad object, peace, and Huntley's blessing. 
 
 [^Exeunt, 
 
 SCENE \\\. London. The Tower-hUL 
 
 Enter Constable and Officers; Warbeck, Urs- 
 wiCK, and Lambert Simnel the falconer. A 
 great crowd. 
 
 Const. Make room there ! keep off, I require 
 you ; and none come within twelve foot of his ma- 
 jesty's new stocks, upon pain of displeasure. Bring- 
 forward the malefactors. Friend, you must to this 
 geer, no remedy. Open the hole, and in with the 
 legs, just in the middle hole; there, that hole. 
 Keep off, or I'll commit you all ! Shall not a man 
 in authority be obev'd? So, so, there; 'tis as it 
 
 ^ Lifted in our charger\ A quaint phrase, meaning, I sup. 
 pose, " so much raised by calling you mistress as to become our 
 charge, to induce us to consider ourselTcs obliged to take charge 
 )f him."
 
 106 PERKIN WARBECK. ACT V. 
 
 should be : put on the padlock, and give me the . 
 key. Off, 1 say, keep off. 
 
 [Warbeck is put in the stocks, 
 Urs. Yet Warbeck clear thy conscience ; thou 
 hast tasted 
 King Henry's mercy liberally ; the law 
 Has forfeited thy life ; an equal jury 
 Have doom'd thee to the gallows. Twice most 
 
 wickedly. 
 Most desperately hast thou escaped the Tower ; 
 Inveigling to thy party, with thy witchcraft. 
 Young Edward, earl of Warwick, son to Clarence ; 
 Whose head must pay the price of that attempt ; 
 Poor gentleman ! unhappy in his fate. 
 And ruin'd by thy cunning ! so a mongrel 
 May pluck the true stag down. Yet, yef^ confess 
 Thy parentage ; for yet the king has mercy. 
 
 Simn. You would be Dick the Fourth, very 
 likely ! 
 Your pedigree is published ; you are known 
 For Osbeck's son of Tournay, a loose runagate, 
 A land-loper ' : your father was a Jew, 
 Turn'd Christian merely to repair his miseries. 
 Where's now your kingship ? 
 
 ^P'ar. Baited to my death ? 
 
 Intolerable cruelty ! I laugh at 
 The Duke of Richmond's practice on my fortunes. 
 Possession of a crown ne'er wanted heralds. 
 Simn. You will not know me who 1 am ? 
 Urs. Lambert Simnel, 
 
 Your predecessor in a dangerous uproar ; 
 Bur, on submission, not alone received 
 To grace, but by the king vouchsafed his service. 
 
 ' Land.lopcr^'] '^ A ragabond, or a rogue that runs up and 
 down the country." Blount's Diet.
 
 SCENE III. PERKIN WARBECK. 101' 
 
 Simn. I would be earl of Warwick, toil'd and 
 ruffled 
 Against my master, leapM to catch the moon. 
 Vaunted my name Plantagenet, as you do : 
 An earl forsooth ! Whenas in truth 1 was. 
 As you are, a mere rascal : yet his majesty, 
 A prince composed of sweetness, Heaven protect 
 
 him ! 
 Forgave me all my villanies, reprieved 
 The sentence of a shameful end, admitted 
 My surety of obedience to his service ; 
 And I am now his falconer, live plenteously ; 
 Eat from the king's purse, and enjoy the sweetness 
 Of Hberty and favour ; sleep securely : 
 And is not this, now, better, than to buffet 
 The hangman's clutches ? or to brave the cordage 
 Of a tough halter, which will break your neck I 
 So, then, the gallant totters : pr'ythee, Perkin, 
 Let my example lead thee ; be no longer 
 A counterfeit ; confess and hope for pardon. 
 
 JVar. For pardon ? hold my heart-strings, whilst 
 contempt 
 Of injuries, in scorn, may bid defiance 
 To this base man's foul language ! Thou poor ver- 
 min. 
 How dar'st thou creep so near me ] thou an earl ] 
 Why, thou enjoy'st as much of happiness 
 As all thy swing* of slight ambition flew at. 
 A dunghill was thy cradle. So a puddle, 
 By virtue of the sunbeams, breathes a vapour 
 To infect the purer air, which drops again 
 Into the muddy womb that first exhal'd it. 
 Bread, and a slavish ease, with some assurance 
 
 * As ail the swing.^ So the old copy reads. The slight al. 
 teration in the text restores the sense, which otherwise is very 
 obscure.
 
 102 PERKIN WARBECK. ACT V. 
 
 From the base beadle's whip, crown'd all thy hopes. 
 
 But, sirrah, ran there in thy veins one drop 
 
 Of such a royal blood as flows in mine ; 
 
 Thou would'st not change condition to be second 
 
 In England's state, without the crown itself! 
 
 Coarse creatures are incapable of excellence : 
 
 But let the world, as all, to whom 1 am 
 
 This day a spectacle, to time deliver, 
 
 And by tradition fix posterity, 
 
 W^ithout another chronicle than truth, 
 
 How constantly my resolution suffered 
 
 A martyrdom of majesty ! 
 
 Simn. He's past 
 
 Recovery ; a Bedlam cannot cure him. 
 
 Vrs. Away : inform the king of his behaviour. 
 
 Simn. Perkin, beware the rope ! the hangman's 
 coming. 
 
 Urs. If yet thou hast no pity of thy body, 
 Pity thy soul ! \_Exit Lambert Simnel. 
 
 Enter Katherine, Jane, Dalyell, and Ox- 
 ford. 
 
 Jane. Dear lady ! 
 
 Oxf. Whither will you \ 
 
 Without respect of shame ? 
 
 Kath. Forbear me, sir, 
 
 And trouble not the current of my duty ! 
 Oh my lov'd lord ! can any scorn be yours 
 In which 1 have no interest ? Some kind hand 
 l^end me assistance, that 1 may partake 
 J'h* infliction of this penance. My life's dearest, 
 Forgive me : I have staid too long from tend' ring 
 Attendance on reproach ; yet bid me welcome. 
 
 War. Great miracle of constancy ! my miseries 
 Were never bankrupt of their confidence 
 In worst of afflictions, till, this now, 1 feel them. 
 Keport, and thy deserts, thou best of creatures,
 
 SCENE III. PERKIN WARBECK. 105 
 
 Might to eternity have stood a pattern 
 For every virtuous wife, without this conquest. 
 Thou hast outdone behef ; yet may their ruin 
 In after marriages, be never pitied, 
 To whom thy story shall appear a fable. 
 Why would*st thou prove so much unkind to great- 
 ness, 
 To glorify thy vows by such a servitude 1 
 I cannot weep ; but trust me, dear, my heart 
 Is liberal of passion. Harry Richmond I 
 A woman's faith hath robb d thy fame of triumph. 
 
 Ox/*. Sirrah, leave off your juggling, and tie up 
 The devil that ranges in your tongue. 
 
 Urs. Thus witches 
 
 Possessed, even their deaths deluded, say, 
 They have been wolves and dogs, and sail'd in egg- 
 shells 
 Over the sea, and rode on fiery dragons ; 
 Pass'd in the air more than a thousand miles. 
 All in a night : the enemy of mankind 
 Is powerful, but false ; and falsehood confident. 
 
 Oxf. Remember, lady, who you are. Come 
 from 
 That impudent impostor ! 
 
 Kath. You abuse us : 
 
 For when the holy churchman joined our hands, 
 Our vows were real then ; the ceremony 
 Was not in apparition, but in act. 
 Be what these people term thee, I am certain 
 Thou art my husband : no divorce in heaven 
 Has been sued out between us ; 'tis injustice 
 For any earthly power to divide us. 
 Or we will live, or let us die together. 
 There is a cruel mercy. 
 
 War. 'Spite of tyranny 
 
 We reign in our affections, blessed woman ! 
 Read in my destiny the wrack of honour ;
 
 104 I'ERKIN WARBECK. ACT V. 
 
 Point out, in my contempt of deatii, to memory, 
 Some miserable happiness : since, herein, 
 Even when 1 fell, 1 stood enthron'd a monarch 
 Of one chaste wife's troth, pure, and uncorrupted. 
 Fair angel of perfection, immortality 
 Shall raise thy name up to an adoration ; 
 Court every rich opinion of true merit, 
 And saint it in the kalendar of virtue ; 
 When I am turn'd into the self-same dust 
 Of which 1 was first formed. 
 
 0.if. The lord ambassador, 
 
 Huntley, your father, madam, should he look on 
 Your strange subjection, in a gaze so public, 
 Would blush on your behalf, and wish his country 
 Unleft, for entertainment to such sorrow. 
 
 Kath. Why art thou angry, Oxford \ I must be 
 More peremptory in my duty. Sir, 
 Impute it not unto immodesty. 
 That I presume to press you to a legacy, 
 Before we part for ever ! 
 
 War. Let it be then 
 
 My heart, the rich remains of all my fortunes. 
 Kath. Confirm it with a kiss, pray ! 
 War. Oh? with that 
 
 I wish to breathe my last : upon thy lips. 
 Those equal twins of comeliness, I seal 
 The testament of honourable vows : 
 Whoever be that man that shall unkiss 
 This sacred print next, may he prove more thrifty 
 In this world's just applause, not more desertful. 
 Kath. By this sweet pledge of both our souls, I 
 swear 
 To die a faithful widow to thy bed : 
 Not to be forced or won : oh, never, never !
 
 SCEJfE III. PERKIN WARBECK. 105 
 
 Enter Surrey, Dawbeney, Huntley, and 
 
 Crawford. 
 
 Daw. Free the condemned person ; quickly free 
 hi in ! 
 What, has he yet confessed ? 
 
 [Warbeck is taken out of the stocks. 
 
 Urs. Nothing to purpose ; 
 
 But still he will be king. 
 
 Sur. Prepare your journey 
 
 To a new kingdom then. Unhappy madam, 
 Wilfully foolish ! See, my lord ambassador, 
 Your lady daughter will not leave the counterfeit 
 In this disgrace of fate. 
 
 Hunt. I never 'pointed 
 
 Thy marriage, girl ; but yet, being married. 
 Enjoy thy duty to a husband freely : 
 Thy griefs ' are mine ; 1 glory in thy constancy : 
 And must not say I wish that I had miss'd 
 Some partage * in these trials of a patience. 
 
 Kath. You will forgive me, noble sir. 
 
 Hunt. Yes, yes : 
 
 In every duty of a wife and daughter, 
 I dare not disavow thee. To your husband, 
 (For such you are, sir) I impart a farewell 
 Of manly pity ; what your life has past through, 
 The dangers of your end will make apparent ; 
 And I can add, for comfort to your sufferance, 
 No cordial, but the wonder of your frailty. 
 Which keeps so firm a station. We are parted. 
 
 War. We wear a crown of peace ^ Renew thy 
 age 
 
 * The gtiefs.'] So the old quarto. Tiie emendation is too ob- 
 vious to need any defence. 
 
 ' Partuge,'\ l^rtnership. 
 
 3 Wee are a crozon oj'peace.l Ne doubt this reading was cor- 
 rupted from that in the text.
 
 106 PEllKIN WARBECK. ACT V. 
 
 Most honourable Huntley. Worthy Crawford, 
 We may embrace. 1 never thought thee injury. 
 
 Craw. Nor was I ever guilty of neglect 
 Which might procure such thought. 1 take my 
 leave, sir. 
 War. To you, lord Daly ell, what ? accept a 
 sigh, 
 'Tis hearty and in earnest. 
 
 Dal. 1 want utterance, 
 
 My silence is my farewell. 
 
 Kath. Oh ! oh ! 
 
 Jane. Sweet madam. 
 
 What do you mean ? My lord, your hand. 
 
 Dal. Dear lady. 
 
 Be pleased that I may wait you to your lodgings. 
 [^Exeunt Daly ell and Jane, leading out 
 Lady Katherine. 
 
 Enter Sheriff and Officers with Sketon, Astley, 
 Heron, and John a-Water, with halters about 
 their necks. 
 
 Oxf. Look ye, behold your followers, appointed 
 To wait on you in death ! 
 
 War. Why, peers of England, 
 
 We'll lead them on courageously. 1 read 
 A triumph over tyranny upon 
 Their several foreheads. Faint not in the moment 
 Of victory ! Our ends, and Warwick's head. 
 Innocent Warwick's head, (for we are prologue 
 But to his tragedy) conclude the wonder 
 Of Henry's fears ; and then the glorious race 
 Of fourteen kings Plantagenets, determines 
 In this last issue male ; Heaven be obeyed ! 
 Impoverish time of its amazement, friends, 
 And we will prove as trusty in our payments, 
 As prodigal to nature in our debts. 
 Death ? pish ! 'tis but a sound ; a name of air ;
 
 SCENE III. PERKIN WARBECK. 107 
 
 A minute's storm, or not so much ; to tumble 
 From bed to bed, be massacred alive 
 By some physicians, for a month or two, 
 In hope of freedom from a fever's torments, 
 Might stagger manhood : here, the pain is past 
 Ere sensibly 'tis felt. Be men of spirit ! 
 Spurn coward passion ! so illustrious mention 
 Shall blaze our names, and style us kings o'er death. 
 \_Exeunt Sheriff^' and Oncers with the prisoners. 
 
 Daw. Away, impostor beyond precedent ! 
 No clironicle records his fellow. 
 
 Hunt. I have 
 
 Not thoughts left ; *tis sufficient in such cases 
 Just laws ought to proceed. 
 
 Enter King Henry, Durham, and Hi alas. 
 
 K. Hen. We are resolv'd. 
 
 Your business, noble lords, shall find success, 
 Such as your king importunes. 
 
 Hunt. You are gracious. 
 
 K. Hen. Perkin, we are inform' d, is arm'd to 
 die : 
 In that we'll honour him. Our lords shall follow 
 To see the execution ; and from hence 
 We gather this fit use : that public states, 
 As our particular bodies, taste most good 
 In health, when purged of corrupted blood. 
 
 [^Exeunt.
 
 EPILOGUE. 
 
 Here has appear'd, though in a several fashion. 
 
 The threats of majesty ; the strength of passion ; 
 
 Hopes of an empire ; change of fortunes ; all 
 
 What can to theatres of greatness fall. 
 
 Proving their weak foundations. Who will please^ 
 
 Amongst such several sights, to censure these 
 
 No birth abortive, nor a bastard. brood, 
 
 (Shame to a parentage, or fosterhood), 
 
 May warrant, by their loves, all just excuses, 
 
 And often find a welcome to the muses.
 
 THE 
 
 FANCIES, CHASTE AND NOBLE.
 
 THE FANCIES, CHASTE AND NOBLE. 
 
 This comedy was printed in quarto in the year 1638, with 
 the following title : " The Fancies, Chast and Noble : Present- 
 ed by the Queenes Majesties Servants, at the Phoenix in Orury. 
 Lane. Fide Honor. London, printed by E. P. for Henry 
 Seile, and are to be sold at his shop, at the Tyj^er's Head in 
 Fleet Street, over against Saint Dunstan's Church." It has a 
 copy of verses by Edward Greenfield prefixed, for which see the 
 First Volume. There is no enumeration of the Dramatis Personae. 
 The play has, like most of our author's, nerer been reprinted, 
 and seems to have attracted very little notice hitherto. 
 
 Von. 11. tt
 
 to 
 
 THE RIOHT NOBLE LORD, THE LOUD 
 
 RANDAL MACDONNELL, 
 
 EARL OP ANTRIM IN THE KINGDOM OF IRELAND, LOUD 
 VISCOUNT DUNLUCE *. 
 
 MY LORD, 
 
 Jl RiNCES, and worthy personages of your own emi- 
 nence, have entertained poems of this nature with 
 a serious welcome. The desert of their authors 
 might transcend mine, not their study of service. 
 
 * This nobleman was the son of Sir Randal Macdonell, who^ 
 in his youth, joined in Tyrone's rebellion, but subsequently be- 
 came a loyal subject of King James, and contributed greatly to 
 the civilization of Ireland, for which service he was created sucw 
 cessively Viscount Dunluce and Earl of Antrim. He died 18th 
 .December 1636. The peer who succeeded him, and to whom the 
 present play is dedicated, was born in 1609. He attended King 
 Charles I. in his expedition against Scotland in 1639 ; was accu. 
 sed of joining the rebels in Ireland in 1642, but cleared ; but 
 subsequently joined them for the benefit of his royal master. He 
 was twice imprisoned by Major-General Monro in Carrickfer* 
 gus, but escaped both times. In 1643, he was created Marquis 
 of Antrim. Though he made his peace with Cromwell, he as* 
 sisted Charles II. in his escape, after the battle of Worcester*. 
 He died at an advanced age, in the year 167i,
 
 116 DEDICATION. 
 
 A practice of courtship to greatness hath not 
 hitherto, in me, aimed at any thrift : yet I have 
 ever honoured virtue, as the richest ornament to 
 the noblest titles. Endeavour of being known to 
 your Lordship, by such means, I conceive no am- 
 bition ; the extent being bounded by humility : so 
 neither can the argument appear ungracious ; nor 
 the writer, in that, without allowance. You en- 
 joy, my Lord, the general suffrage, for your free- 
 dom of merits : may you likewise please, by this 
 particular presentment, amongst the number of such, 
 as I faithfully honour those merits, to admit, into 
 your noble construction, 
 
 John Ford.
 
 PROLOGUE. 
 
 The Fancies ! that's our play ; in it is shown 
 
 Nothing, hut what our author knows his own 
 
 Without a learned theft; no servant here 
 
 To some fair mistress, borrows for his care, 
 
 His lock, his belt, his sword, the fancied graco 
 
 Of any pretty ribbon ; nor, in place 
 
 Of charitable friendship, is brought in 
 
 A thriving gamester, that doth chance to win 
 
 A lusty sum ; while the good hand doth ply him, 
 
 And fancies this or that, to him sits by him. 
 
 His free invention runs but in conceit 
 
 Of mere imaginations ; there's the height 
 
 Of what he writes ; which if traduced by some, 
 
 'Tis well, he says, he's far enough from home. 
 
 For you, for him, for us, then this remains, 
 
 Fancy your even ppinionsj for our pain?.
 
 DRAMATIS PERSONtE. 
 
 Oct A V 10, md'^uis of Sienna. 
 Troylo Savelli, his 7iephew, 
 Livio, brother to Castamela. 
 RoMANELLO, brother to Flavia. 
 Julio de Varan a, lord of Camerino, second hus- 
 band to Flavia. 
 Fabricio, a merchant, l^ayi A* s first husband, 
 Secco, a barber, \ 
 
 NiTiDO, a page, \ attendants on the marquis, 
 Spadone, j 
 
 ,-. ' C attendants on Julio. 
 
 Vespucci, 3 
 
 Castamela, sister to Livio. 
 Flavia, wife to Julio. 
 MoROSA, an old court lady, 
 Clarella, 1 
 Silvia, V court ladies, 
 
 Floria, 5 
 
 Scene, ^leMwa.
 
 7HE 
 
 FANCIES, CHASTE AND NOBLE, 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE I. An Apartment in the Palace. 
 
 Enter Troylo-Savelli, and Livio. 
 
 Troi/. Do, do: Be wilful, desperate ! *tis manly; 
 Build on your reputation ! Such a fortune 
 May furnish out your tables, trim your liveries. 
 Enrich your heirs with purchase of a patrimony. 
 Which shall hold out beyond the waste of riot ; 
 Stick honours on your heraldry, with titles 
 As swelling, and as numerous as may likely 
 Grow to a pretty volume. Here's eternity! 
 All this can reputation, marry, can it; 
 Indeed, what not ] 
 
 Liv. Such language from a gentleman 
 
 So noble in his quality as you are. 
 Deserves, in my weak judgment, rather pity 
 Than a contempt. 
 
 Trot/. Could'st thou consider, Livio, 
 
 The fashion of the times, their study, practice. 
 Nay, their ambitions, thou would st soon distin- 
 g;uish
 
 122 THE FANCIES, ACT I. 
 
 Betwixt the abject lowness of* a poverty, 
 And the applauded triumphs of abundance, 
 Though compass'd by the meanest service. Where- 
 in 
 Shall you betray your guilt to common censure, 
 Waving the private charge of your opinion, 
 By rising up to greatness, or at least 
 To plenty, which now buys it ? 
 
 Liv. Troylo-Savelli 
 
 Plays merrily on my wants. 
 
 Troi/. Troylo-Savelli 
 
 Speaks to the friend he ioves, to his own Livio. 
 Look, pr'ythee, through the great duke*s court in 
 
 Florence ; 
 Number his favourites, and then examine 
 By what steps some chief officers in state 
 Have reached the height they stand in. 
 
 Liv. By their merits. 
 
 Troy. Right, by their merits : well he merited 
 Th* intendments' o'er the gallies at Leghorn, 
 Made grand collector of the customs there, 
 Who led the prince unto his wife's chaste bed, 
 And stood himself by, in his night-gown, fearing 
 The jest might be distx)ver*d : Wa8*t not band- 
 
 some? 
 The lady knows not yet on't. 
 
 Liv, Most impossible. 
 
 Trot/. He merited well to wear a robe of chamlet, 
 Who train'd his brother's daughter, scarce a girl, 
 Into the arms of Mont-Angentorato ; 
 Whilst the young lord of Telamon, her husband, 
 Was packeted to France, to study courtship *, 
 
 I ifc intendments o'er the gallies,'] The intcDdance over them ; 
 being made intendant over the gallies. 
 
 * Courtship.] Here used for the manners and bebaTiour of a 
 court. In the same sense it occurs in Massinger'g Great Duke 
 f Florence : 
 
 10
 
 SCENE I. CHASTE AND NOBLE. 123 
 
 Under, forsooth, a colour of employment ; 
 Employment, yea of honour. 
 
 Liv. You're well read 
 
 In mysteries of state. 
 
 Troi/. Here, in Sienna, 
 
 Bold Julio de Varana, lord of Camerine, 
 Held it no blemish to his blood and greatness, 
 From a plain merchant, with a thousand ducats. 
 To buy his wife, nay, justify the purchase ; 
 Procured it by a dispensation 
 
 From Rome, allowM and warranted : 'twas thought 
 By his physicians, that she was a creature 
 Agreed best with the cure of the disease, 
 His present new infirmity then laboured in. 
 Yet these are things in prospect of the world. 
 Advanced, employed, and eminent. 
 
 Liv. At best, 
 
 'Tis but a goodly pandarism. 
 
 Troy, Shrewd business : 
 
 Thou child in thrift, thou fool of honesty, 
 Is*t a disparagement for gentlemen. 
 For friends of lower rank, to do the offices 
 Of necessary kindness, without fee. 
 For one another, courtesies of course, 
 Mirths of society ; when petty mushrooms. 
 Transplanted from their dunghills, spread on moun- 
 tains, 
 And pass for cedars by their servile flatteries 
 On great mens' vices? Pandar! thou'rt deceived. 
 The word includes preferment; 'tis a title 
 Of dignity, I could add somewhat more else. 
 Liv. Add any thing of reason. 
 
 Troy. Castamela, 
 
 Thy beauteous sister, like a precious tissue. 
 
 -" What she wanted 
 
 In courtship, was, I hope, snpplied in civil 
 And modest cntertainnient."
 
 124 THE FANCIES, ACT I. 
 
 Not shaped into a garment fit for wearing; 
 Wants the adornments otthe workman's cunning 
 To set the richness of the piece at view, 
 Though in herself all wonder. Come, I'll tell thr<': 
 A way there may be know, I love thee, Livio 
 To fix this jewel in a ring of gold. 
 Yet lodge it in a cabinet of ivory. 
 White, pure, unspotted ivory: put case, 
 Livio himself shall keep the key on't ? 
 
 Liv. Oh, sir. 
 
 Create me what you please of yours; do this. 
 You are another nature. 
 
 Enter Octavio and Nitido. 
 
 Troy. Be then pliable' 
 
 To my first rules of your advancement. See 
 Octavio, my good uncle, the great marquis 
 Of our Sienna, comes, as we could wish, 
 In private.-r Noble sir ! 
 
 Oct. My bosom's secretary, 
 
 My dearest, best lov'd nephew. 
 
 Troy. We have been thirsty "^ 
 
 In our pnrsuit. Sir, here's a gentleman 
 Desertful of your knowledge, and as covetous 
 Of entertainment from it. You shall honour 
 Your judgment, to entrust him to your favours; 
 His merits will commend it. 
 
 Oct. Gladly welcome : 
 
 Your own worth is a herald to proclaim it. 
 For taste of your preferment, we admit you 
 The chief provisor of our horse. 
 
 Lir. Your bounty 
 
 Styles me your ever servant. 
 
 * Be then pliable.'} These words arc unnecessarily repeated 
 in the quarto. 
 
 * TTiirs/j/,"] i. e. eager.
 
 SCENE I. CHASTE AND NOBLE. 125 
 
 Troy. He's our own ; 
 
 Surely, nay most persuadedly. My thanks, sir', 
 
 *'* * * * 
 
 Owes to this just engagement. 
 
 Oct. Slack no time 
 
 To enter on your fortunes. Thoii art carefulj 
 My Troylo^ in the study of a duty. 
 His name is Livio ? [Apart to Troylo. 
 
 Liv. Livio, my good lord. 
 
 Oct. Again, you're welcome to us. Be as 
 speedy, [Apart to Troylo. 
 
 Dear nephew, as thou'rt constant. -Men of parts. 
 Fit parts and sound, are rarely to be met with. 
 But being niet with, therefore to be cherishM 
 With love and with supportance. While i stand, 
 Livio can no way fall. Yet, once mwe welcome. 
 
 [Exeunt Oct* and Nit. 
 
 Troy. An honourable liberality. 
 Timely dispos'd, without delay or question. 
 Commands a gratitude. Is not this better 
 Than waiting three or four months at livery. 
 With cup and knee unto this chair of state. 
 And to their painted arras, for a need * 
 From goodman-usher, or the formal secretary ; 
 Especially the juggler with the purse. 
 That pays some shares ? In all, a younger brother. 
 Sometimes an elder, not well trimm'd i* th' head- 
 piece, 
 
 * My thanks^ sir, 
 
 Ozoes to this just engagement.l As there is no possibility 
 of extracting sense out of the last line, we must conclude that a 
 previous one must have been lost, perhaps of the following im- 
 port: 
 
 " My thanks, sir. 
 For all the noble honours tchkh myfriaid 
 Owes to this just engagement." 
 
 * A needy'] Seems here to be used for a thing required or ask- 
 ed in a petition.
 
 126 THE FANCIES, ACT I. 
 
 May spend what his friend left in expectation, 
 Of being turn'd out of service for attendance, 
 Or marry a vvaitins^-woman, and be damn*d for't 
 To open laughter, and (what's worse') old beggary. 
 What thinks my Livio, of this rise at first? 
 ls*t not miraculous ? 
 
 Liv. It seems the bargain 
 
 Was driv*n before between you. 
 
 Troy. 'Twas, and nothing 
 
 Could void it, but the peevish resolution 
 Of your dissent from goodness, as you call it ; 
 A thin, a thread-bare honesty, a virtue 
 Without a living to't. 
 
 Liv. I must resolve 
 
 To turn my sister whore ? Speak a home-word 
 For my old bachelor ? Lord, so ? is't not so ? 
 A trifle in respect of present means ; 
 Here's all. 
 
 Trotf. Be yet more confident ; the slavery 
 Of such an abject office shall not tempt 
 The freedom of my spirit : stand ingenious 
 To thine own fate *, and we shall practise wisely 
 Without the charge of scandal. 
 
 Liv. May it prove so ! [ExeimL 
 
 ^ Wholes worth.'] So the quarto reads. 
 
 * Stand ingenious 
 
 To thine otcnjaie.'] Ingenious and ingenuous were conti- 
 nually confounded in old writings, but the exact meaning of nei> 
 thcr the one nor the other strictly applies in the text, where in- 
 genious seems to stand for true, faithful.
 
 SCENE II. CHASTE AND NOBLE. 1S7 
 
 SCENE IL-^r/ie Street, 
 
 Enter Secco^ sprinkling his hat and face with a 
 casting bottle, and carrying a little looking-glass 
 at his girdle ' ; setting his countenance^ 
 
 Sec. Admirable ! Incomparably admirable ! To 
 be the minion, the darling, the delight of love ; 
 'tis a very tickling to the marrow, a kissing i*th* 
 blood, a bosoming the extacy, the rapture of vir- 
 ginity, soul and paradise of perfection, ah ! pity 
 of generation, Secco, there are no more such men. 
 
 Enter Spa done. 
 Spa. Oyes ! if any man, woman, or beast, have 
 
 * The fashion of wearing looking-glasses at the girdle was very 
 universal among the gallants and ladles at the time. Mr Gif- 
 ford hopes that the former wore them in their pockets, and not 
 ostentatiously at their girdle, as the latter did ; but, from the 
 text, it seems that men were as open-faced in their coxcombry as 
 the ladies. Gascoigne, in his Steel-Glas, which was written in 
 1376, already alludes to the fashion : 
 
 " I see, and sigli, bycause it makes me sadde, 
 That peuislie pryde dolli all tlie world possesse, 
 And euery wight will liaiie a looking-glasee 
 To see himselfe, yet so he sceth liim not." 
 
 Nor did the absurdity of the affectation escape being lashed by 
 Bishop Hall in his Biting Satires, Book IV. Sat. vi. : 
 
 " Comely striplings wish it were their chance. 
 
 For Ca-nis' dlstafte to exchange their lance, 
 And weare curl'd perriwigs, and chalk Iheir face, 
 And still are poring on their pocket glusn." 
 
 From the last line it would appear, that ^he ladies, at the tie 
 when these satires were written, had not yet the effrontery to 
 expose this token of affectation to public view. As to the cast- 
 ing.bottles, mentioned in the text, they were nothing more than 
 bottles of perfumed liquors. Both the fashions are mentioned 
 together in Ben Jonson's Cynthia's Revels ; " Where is your 
 page? call for yoixt casting'bottlCf and place ^our mirror inj/our
 
 iSS THE FANCIS, ACT I. 
 
 found, stolen, or taken up a fine, very fine, male 
 barber, of the age of above or under eighteen, more 
 or less 
 
 Sec. Spadone, hold, what's the noise ? 
 
 Spa. Umph ! pay the cryer. I have been almost 
 lost myself in seeking you : here's a letter from 
 
 Sec. Whom, whom, my dear Spadone? whom! 
 
 Spa. Soft and fair ! an you be so brief, 1*11 return 
 it whence it came, or look out a new owner. O- 
 yes! 
 
 Sec. Low, low : what dost mean ? is't from the 
 glory of beauty, Morosa, the fairest fair ? be gentle 
 to me ; here's a ducate : speak low, pr'ythee ! 
 
 Spa. Give me one, and take t'other : 'tis from 
 the party. Golden news, believe it. 
 
 Sec. Honest Spadone ! Divine Morosa ! [^Reads. 
 
 Spa. [^A.side.'\ Fairest fair, quoth'a? So is an 
 old rotten coddled mungrel, parcel bawd, parcel 
 midwife : all the marks are quite out of her mouth; 
 not the stump of a tooth left in her head, to mumble 
 the curd of a posset. Signior, 'tis as I told you! 
 all's right ? 
 
 Sec. Right, just as thou told'st me; all's right. 
 
 Spa. To a very hair, signior niio. 
 
 .Sec. For which, sirrah, Spadone ! I will make* 
 thee a man ; a man, dost hear ? 1 say a man. 
 
 Spa. Thou'rt a prick-ear'd foist', a cittern-headed 
 gew-gaw, a knack, a snipper-snapper ! Twit me 
 
 ' Thou'rt a prick-eared foist.'] Prick-eared means, with ears 
 erect, and the application of tho term to a fool is cxplainfd b/ 
 the folloMin? passage of Painter's Palace of Pleasure ; " There 
 were newly come to the citie two young men that were Romans, 
 which ranged up and downc the strcetes, xcilh their ears upright." 
 A foist^ according to Deckar's IJelman of London, was a cant 
 term for a pick-pocket. Otter nJteaded has been already fully 
 explained in a note in the LoTer's Mtlancholy, (Vol. I. p. 141.) 
 A knack is still a Scotch word for a taunt, a gibe, a trick ; but 
 1 bare not met with it as a term of reproach in any other place.
 
 SCENE II. CHASTE AND NOBLE. 129 
 
 with the decrements of my pendants ? Though I 
 am made a gelding, and, like a tame buck, have 
 lost my dowsets, more a monster than a cuckold 
 with his horns seen, yet I scorn to be jeered by 
 any checker-approved barbarian' of ye all. Make 
 me a man ! I defy thee. 
 
 Sec. How now, fellow ? how now ! roaring ripe 
 indeed ! 
 
 Spa, Indeed ? Thou*rt worse : a dry shaver, a 
 copper-bason suds-monger. 
 
 Sec. Nay, nay ; by my mistress' fair eyes, I 
 meant no such thing. 
 
 Spa. Eyes in thy belly ! the reverend madam 
 shall know how 1 have been used. I will blow my 
 nose in thy casting-bottle, break the teeth of thy 
 combs, poison thy camphire-balls, slice out thy 
 towels with thine own razor, be-tallow thy tweezes, 
 and urine in thy bason. Make me a man ! 
 
 Sec. Hold ! take another ducat : as I love new 
 clothes 
 
 Spa. Or cast old ones. . 
 
 Sec. Yes, or cast old ones ; I intended no injury. 
 
 Spa. Good, we are piec'd again. Reputation, sig- 
 nior, is precious. 
 
 Sec. 1 know, it is. 
 
 Spa. Old sores would not be rubbed. 
 
 Sec. For me, never. 
 
 Spa. The lady guardianness, the mother of the 
 Fancies *, is resolved to draw with you in the 
 wholesome [yoke] of matrimony, suddenly. 
 
 Bi/ any checker, approved harbarian.'\ So the quarto reads ; 
 but a hyphen seems absolutely necessary between the words 
 checker and approved. The term then denotes one who has the 
 approbation of the ale-houses, which, as is well known, are 
 still frequently distinguished by checkers painted on the win- 
 dows. 
 
 * Mother of the Fancies,'] Mother of loves. Fancy is used for 
 VOL. II. I
 
 li>a THE FANCIES, JrCT I, 
 
 Sec. She writes as much : and, Spadone, when 
 we are manied 
 
 Spa. You will to bed no doubt. 
 
 Sec. We will revel in such variety of delights, 
 
 Spa. Do miracles, and get babies. 
 
 Sec. Live so sumptuously, 
 
 Spa. In feather and old furs. 
 
 Sec. Feed so deliciously, 
 
 Spa. On pap and bull- beef. 
 
 Sec. Enjoy the sweets of our years, 
 
 Spa. Eighteen and threescore with advantage'. 
 
 Sec. Tumble and wallow in abundance, 
 
 Spa. The pure crystal puddle of pleasures. 
 
 Sec. That all the word should wonder. 
 
 Spa. A pox on them that envy ye ! 
 
 Sec. How do the beauties, my dainty knave, live, 
 wish, think, and dream? Sirrah, ha ! 
 
 Spa. Fumble, one with another, on the gambos 
 of imagination between their legs : eat they do, 
 and sleep, game, laugh, and lie down, as beauties 
 ought to do : there's all. 
 
 Sec. Commend me to my choicest, and tell her, 
 the minute of her appointment shall be waited on. 
 Say to her, she shall find me a man at all points. 
 
 Enter Nitido. 
 
 Spa. Why, there's another quarrel, man : once 
 more, in spite of my nose, 
 
 love in mnumcrable passages of Shakespeare, of which the fol- 
 lowing, from a beautiful song in the Merchaat of Venice, may 
 suffice : 
 
 " TcU mp, whore Ls/anry bred? ... 
 It is PiiL'fnHrr'd in llie eyes, 
 With s^nne fed ; and /ancy dies 
 In the cradle where it lies." 
 
 * fVith advantage f^ i. e. With something more.
 
 SCENE II. CHASTE AND NOBLE. 131 
 
 Nit. Away, Secco, away ! my lord calls : a* has 
 a loose hair started from his fellows : a clip of your 
 art is commanded. 
 
 Sec. I fly, Nitido. Spadone, remember me. 
 
 [^Exif. 
 
 Nit. Trudging between an old moil, and a young 
 calf, my nimble intelligencer 1 What 1 thou fat- 
 ten'st apace on, capon, still. 
 
 Spa. Yes, crimp ; *tis a gallant life to be an old 
 lord's pimp whiskin ' : but, beware of the porter's 
 lodge, for carrying tales out of the school. 
 
 Nit. What a terrible sight to a libbM* breech is a 
 sow-gelder ! 
 
 Spa. Not so terrible as a cross-tree that never 
 grows, to a wag- halter ' page. 
 
 Nit. Good I witty rascal, thou*rt a satire, I pro- 
 test : but that the nymphs need not fear the evi- 
 dence of thy mortality, go put on a clean bib, and 
 spin amongst the nuns ; sing'em a bawdy song. 
 AH the children thou get'st, shall be christened in 
 wassel-bowls '^, and turned into a college of men- 
 midwives. Farewell, night-mare ! 
 
 Spa. Very, very well : if I die in thy debt for 
 
 * Pimp whiskm."] I do not perfectly understand the parti, 
 cular meaning of the last word. Cotgrave explains singlement^ 
 ** a sayling, or cutting the sea by sayling ; also, a whiskng^ 
 lashing, jerking, scutching." The word occurs again, and is 
 applied to the same person in the fourth act of this comedy. 
 
 * Libb'd,~\ A northern idiom for gelded, still usual in Scotland. 
 3 Awag-halter.~\ Cotgrave explains baboin^ "a trifling, busie, 
 
 or craftie knave ; a crack-rope, zoag-haltery uohappie rogue, 
 retchlesse villaine." Another of these terms is used in the next 
 speech but one. 
 
 * WasieUbowls.'\ It was formerly usual in villages to carry- 
 about from one house to another a wassel-bowl, on particular 
 feasting days, such as new-year's eve and twelfth-night. The 
 derivation of the word has been so often explained, that ever/ 
 reader may be supposed to be acquainted tvith it.
 
 132 THE FANCIES, ACT I. 
 
 this, crack-rope, let me be buried in a coal-sack. 
 I'll fit ye, ape's-tace ! look for't. 
 
 J\it. [Sings.] And still the urchin would^ hut 
 
 could not do. 
 Spa. Mark the end on't, and laugh at last. 
 
 [^Exeunt, 
 
 SCENE III. A Room in the House o/Livio. 
 
 Enter Romanello and Castamela. 
 
 Rom. Tell me you cannot love me. 
 
 Cast. You importune 
 
 Too strict a resolution : as a gentleman 
 Ot" commendable parts, and fair deserts, 
 In ev*ry sweet condition that becomes 
 A hopeful expectation, 1 do honour 
 Th* example of your youth ; but, sir, our fortunes, 
 Concluded on both sides in narrow bands. 
 Move you to construe gently my forbearance. 
 In argument of fit consideration. 
 
 Rom. Why, Castamela, 1 have shaped thy vir- 
 tues. 
 Even from our childish years, into a dowry 
 Of richer estimation, than thy portion. 
 Doubled an hundred times, can equal. Now 
 1 clearly find, thy current of affection 
 Labours to fall into the guilt of riot, 
 Not the free ocean of a soft content. 
 You'd marry pomp and plenty ; *tis the idol, 
 I must confess, that creatures of the time 
 Bend their devotions to ; but I have fashioned 
 Thoughts much more excellent ofvou. 
 
 Cast. Enjoy 
 
 Your own prosperity, I am resolv'd 
 Never, by any charge with me, to force 
 A poverty upon you. Want of love,
 
 SCENE III. CHASTE AND NOBLE. 133 
 
 'Tis rarely cberish'd with the love of want, 
 ril not be your undoing. 
 
 Rom. Sure some dotage 
 
 Of hving stately, richly, lend a cunning 
 To eloquence. How is this piece of goodness 
 Chang'd to ambition ! Oh, you are most miserable 
 In your desires ! the female curse has caught you. 
 
 Cast. Fie ! fie ! how ill this suits. 
 
 Rom. A devil of pride 
 
 Ranges in airy thoughts to catch a star, 
 Whilst you grasp mole- hills. 
 
 Cast. Worse and worse, I vow. 
 
 Rom. But that sonie remnant of an honest sense 
 Ebbs a full tide of blood to shame, all women 
 Would prostitute all honour to the luxury 
 Of ease and titles. 
 
 Cast. Romaneilo, know 
 
 You have forgot the nobleness of truth. 
 And fix'd on scandal now. 
 
 Rom. A dog, a parrot, 
 
 A monkey, a caroch, a guarded lackey, 
 A waiting- woman with her lips seal'd up, 
 Are pretty toys to please my mistress wanton : 
 So is a fiddle too, 'twill make it dance. 
 Or else be sick and whine. 
 
 Cast. This is uncivil. 
 
 I am not, sir, your charge. 
 
 Rom. My grief you are, 
 
 For all niy services are lost and ruin'd. 
 
 Cast. So is my chief opinion of your worthiness. 
 When such distractions tempt you ; you would 
 
 prove 
 A cruel lord, who dare, being yet a servant, 
 As you profess, to bait my best respects 
 Of duty to your welfare ; 'tis a madness 
 I have not oft observect. Possess your freedom ;
 
 134 THE FANCIES, ACT I. 
 
 You have no right in me ; let this suffice : 
 I wish your joys much comfort. 
 
 Enter Livio, fresh suited*. 
 
 Liv. Sister, look ye, 
 
 How by a new creation of my tailor's, 
 I've shook off old mortality ; the rags 
 Of home-spun gentry pr'ythee, sister, mark it 
 Are cast by, and 1 now appear in fashion 
 Unto men, am received *, observe me sister. 
 The consequence concerns you. 
 
 Ctist. True, good brother, 
 
 For my well-doing must consist in yours. 
 
 Liv. Here's Romanello, a fine temper'd gallant, 
 Of decent carriage, of indifTerent means ; 
 Considering that his sister, new hoist up, 
 From a lost merchant's warehouse, to the titles 
 Of a great lord's bed, may supply his wants ; 
 Not sunk in his acquaintance ; for a scholar 
 Able enough, and one who may subsist 
 Without the help of friends, provided always, 
 He fly not upon wedlock without certainty 
 Of an advancement : else a bachelor 
 May thrive by observation on a little. 
 As single life's no burden ; but to draw 
 fn yokes is chargeable, and will require 
 A double maintenance : why, I can live 
 AVithout a wife, and purchase. 
 
 Rom. Is't a mystery, 
 
 ' Fresh suUedf"] Apparelled, or dressed in new clothes. Cor> 
 delia says to Kent, in the last act of King Lear : 
 
 " Be better guitid : 
 These weeds are mcniMics of those worser botin; 
 I pr'ythee put them off." 
 
 * And received.'] This is the reading of the old quarto ; but 
 as very little sense can be extracted from it, the slight alteration 
 in the text seems to be absolutely indispensable.
 
 SCENE III. CHASTE AND NOBLE. !S5 
 
 You've lately found out Livio, or a cunning 
 Conceal'd till now, for wonder ? 
 
 Liv. Pish ! believe it, 
 
 Endeavours and an active brain are better 
 Than patrimonies left by parents. Prove it. 
 One thrives by cheating ; shallow fools and un- 
 
 thrifts. 
 Are game knaves only fly at : then a fellow 
 Presumes on his haire, and that his back can toil. 
 For fodder from the city. Lies. Another^ 
 Reputed valiant, lives by the sword, and takes up 
 Quarrels, or braves them, as the novice likes. 
 To gild his reputation ' ; Most improbable. 
 A world of desperate undertakings, possibly, 
 Procures some hungry meals, some tavern surfeits, 
 Some frippery * to hide nakedness : perhaps 
 The scambling ^ half a ducat now and then 
 To roar and noise it v/ith the tattling hostess, 
 For a week's lodging : these are pretty shifts, 
 Souls bankrupt of their royalty submit to. 
 Give me a man, whose practice and experience, 
 
 ' Bravadoes, like the one described in the text, are often in- 
 troduced as characters into old plays, particularly those of Beu 
 Jonson, and seem to have formed a particular class in the com. 
 munity of blackguards. Every one is acquainted with that ad. 
 mirable character. Captain Bobadil, in Every Man in his Hu- 
 mour ; and the scene in Shirley's Gamester, where Hazard allows 
 himself to be beaten by Barnacle's nephew, thereby to give the 
 latter a reputation of valour, will explain the latter part of th 
 description in the text. 
 
 * Frippery.~\ In this instance, an old suit of clothes. A 
 frippery was properly a shop where old clothes were sold. So 
 in Wit without Money, by Beaumont and Fletcher : 
 
 " As if I were a nuining/r ?;>;)>/." 
 
 ^ Scambling,'] Generally the same as scrambling. So in Much 
 Ado about iNothing : 
 
 " Scambling, out-facin<:, fasliion-mon^'ring boys, 
 I'hat lie, and cog, and flout, deprave, .md slander."
 
 136 THE FANCIES, ACT I. 
 
 Conceives not barely the philosopher's stone, 
 Hut indeed has it ; one whose wit*s his Indies. 
 The poor is most ridiculous. 
 
 Rom. You're pleasant 
 
 In new discoveries of fortune ; use them 
 With moderation, Livio. 
 
 Cast. Such wild language 
 
 Was wont to be a stranger to your custom ; 
 However, brother, you are pleas' d to vent it, 
 I hope, for recreation. 
 
 Liv. Name and honour : 
 
 What are they? a mere sound without supportance, 
 A begging chastity, youth, beauty, handsomeness, 
 Discourse; behaviour which might charm attention, 
 And curse the gazer's eyes into amazement ; 
 Are nature's common bounties : so are diamonds 
 Uncut, so flowers unworn, so silk-worms' webs 
 Unwrought, gold unrefm'd. Then all those glories 
 Are of esteem, when us'd and set at price : 
 There's no dark sense in this. 
 
 Rom. 1 understand not 
 
 The drift on't, nor how meant, nor yet to whom. 
 
 Cast. 'Pray, brother, be more plain, 
 
 Liv. First, Romanello, 
 
 This for your satisfaction : if you waste 
 More hours in courtship to this maid, my sister, 
 Weighing lier competency with your own, 
 You go about to build without foundation : 
 So that care will prove void. 
 
 Rom. A sure acquittance, 
 
 If I must be discharged. 
 
 Liv. Next, Castamela, 
 
 To thee, my own lov'd sister, let me say, 
 1 have not been so bountiful in shewing 
 To fame the tnasure which this age hath open'd, 
 As thy true value merits. 
 
 Cast, You are merry.
 
 SCN III. CHASTE AND NOBLE. 137 
 
 Liv. My jealousy of thy fresh blooming years, 
 Prompted a fear of husbanding too charily ' 
 Thy growth to such perfection, as no flattery 
 Of art can perish * now. 
 
 Cast. Here's talk in riddles : 
 
 Brother, the exposition ? 
 
 Liv. I'll no longer 
 
 Chamber thy freedom ; we have been already 
 Thrifty enough in our low fortunes; henceforth 
 Command thy liberty, with that thy pleasures. 
 
 Rom. I'st come to this? 
 
 Cast. You're wond'rous full of courtesy. 
 
 Liv. Ladies of birth and quality are suitors 
 For being known t'ye ; 1 have promised, sister. 
 They shall partake your company. 
 
 Cast. What, ladies ? 
 
 Where I when ? how I who I 
 
 Liv. A day, a week, a month. 
 
 Sported amongst such beauties, is a gain 
 On time ; they're young, wise, noble, fair, and 
 chaste. 
 
 Cast. Chaste? 
 
 Liv. Castamela, chaste ; I would not hazard 
 
 My hopes, my joys of thee, on dangerous trial. 
 Yet if, as it may chance, a neat cloth'd merriment 
 Pass without blush in tattling to the words, 
 Fall not too broad, 'tis but a pastime smil'd at 
 Amongst yourselves in counsel, but beware 
 Of being overheard. 
 
 Cast. This is pretty. 
 
 Honi. I doubt I know not what, yet must be si- 
 lent. [Apart. 
 
 ' Charili/,~\ i. e. cautiously. 
 
 ' Perishj] This verb is frequently used actively. For in- 
 stanccj in the Maid's Tragedy : 
 
 " Lei not my sins 
 
 Perish your noble youth."
 
 US THE FANCIES, ACT I. 
 
 EnterTROYLO, Floria, Clarella, Silvia, and 
 
 NiTIDO. 
 
 Liv. They come as soon as spoke of.^ Sweetest 
 fair ones, 
 jVIy sister cannot but conceive this honour 
 Particular in your respects. Dear sir, 
 You grace us in your favours. 
 
 Troi/. Virtuous lady. 
 
 Flo. We are your servants. 
 
 Clar. Your sure friends. 
 
 Sil. Society 
 
 May fix us in a league. 
 
 Cast. AH fitly welcome. 
 
 I find not reason, gentle ladies, whereon 
 To cast this debt of mine; but my acknowledge, 
 ment ^ 
 
 Shall study to pay thankfulness. 
 
 Troi/. Sweet beauty, 
 
 Your brother hath indeed been too much churl 
 In this concealment from us all, who love him, 
 Of such desir'd a presence. 
 
 Sil. Please to enrich us 
 
 With your wish'd amity. 
 
 Flo. Our coach attends ; 
 
 We cannot be deny*d. 
 
 Clar. Command it, Nitido. 
 
 J\it. Ladies, I shall : now tor a lusty harvest ! 
 *Twiil prove a cheap year, should these barns be 
 fill'd once. [Exit. 
 
 Cast. Brother, one word in private. 
 
 Liv. Phew ! anon 
 
 I shall instruct at large. We are prepared 
 And easily entreated ; 'tis good manners 
 Not to be troublesome. 
 
 "Troy. Thon'rt perfect, Livio. 
 
 Cast. Whether but, he's my brother.
 
 SCENE III. CHASTE AND NOBLE. 139 
 
 Troy. Fa^r, your arm ; 
 
 I am your usher, lady. 
 
 Cast. As you please, sir. 
 
 Liv. I wait you to your coach. Some two hours 
 hence 
 I shall return again. [^Exeunt, 
 
 Rom. Troylo-Savelli, 
 
 Next heir unto the marquis? and the page too. 
 The marquis's own page? Livio transformed 
 Into a sudden bravery', and alter'd 
 In nature, or I dream ! Amongst the ladies, 
 I not remember 1 have seen one face. 
 There's cunning in these changes : 1 am resolute, 
 Or to pursue the trick on't, or lose labour. 
 
 [^Exeunt. 
 
 ACT 11. 
 
 SCENE I. An Apartment in Julia'* House, 
 
 Enter Flavia, svpported by Camillo, and 
 Vespucci. 
 
 Flav. Not yet return* d ? 
 
 Cam. Madam ? 
 
 Flav. The lord our husband. 
 
 We mean. Unkind ! four hours are almost past, 
 (But twelve short minutes wanting by the glass), 
 Since we broke company. Was never, gentlemen. 
 Poor princess us'd so ! 
 
 ' Bravcry^~\ Gallant attire, finery of dress. As in (he Uaoa. 
 tural Combat of Massinger : 
 
 " I am studying now 
 JVliere I shall hide myself, till the ramour of 
 INIy wealth and bravery vanish."
 
 140 THE FANCIES, ACT II. 
 
 Ves. With your gracious fiivour, 
 
 Peers, great in rank and place, ought of necessity 
 To attend on state employments. 
 
 Cam. For such duties 
 
 Are all their toil and labour ; but their pleasures 
 Flow in the beauties they enjoy, which conquers 
 All sense of other travel, 
 
 Flav. Trimly spoken. 
 
 When we were common, mortal, and a subject. 
 As other creatures ot" Heav'n's making are, 
 (The more the pity !) bless us ! how we waited 
 For the huge play-day, when the pageants fluttered 
 About the city' ; for we then were certain, 
 The madam-courtiers would vouchsafe to visit us, 
 And call us by our names, and eat our viands; 
 Nay, give us leave to sit at the upper end 
 Of our own tables, telling us how welcome 
 They'd make us when we came to court. Full 
 
 little 
 Dreamt I, at that time, of the wind that blew me 
 ITp to the weathercock of th' honours now 
 Are thrust upon me ; but we bear the burthen, 
 Were't twice as much as *tis. The next great 
 feast, 
 
 ' On the huge play-day zchen the pageants flutter' d 
 About the ri/^.] Those tasteless exhibitions, the pageants 
 ))erforuicd at the inauguration of the lord-mayors of London, 
 were in full glory ahout the time this |)lay was produced. They 
 were ])ut together by the city poet of the time, an office which 
 cxi^ired with the renowned KIkanah Settle. *' They generally 
 coDsisted," says the compiler of the Biographia Dramatica, '^ of 
 {)ersonificutioos of industry, commerce, the city of Loudon, the 
 Thames, and beings of the like kind, intermixed with heathen 
 gods and goddesses, and seem to haveaflforded great delight to the 
 rude and tincultivated understandings for whose entertainment 
 tlicy wt'ic intended." About Ford's time, they were produced 
 by some poets who deserved better employment, such as Web- 
 ster, Middleton, and Heywood. 
 
 10
 
 SCENE I. CHASTE AND NOBLE. 141 
 
 We*il grace the city-wives, (poor souls !) and see 
 How they'll behave themselves before our presence. 
 You two shall wait upon us. 
 
 Ves. With best observance, 
 
 And glory in our service. 
 
 Cam. We are creatures 
 
 Made proud in your commands. 
 
 Flav. Believ't you are so: 
 
 And you shall find us readier in your pleasures. 
 Than you in your obedience. Fie ! methinks 
 I have an excellent humour to be pettish, 
 A little toysome; 'tis a pretty sign 
 Of breeding: is't not, sirs? I could, indeed, la, 
 Long for some strange good things now. 
 
 Cam. Such news, madam, 
 
 Would overjoy my lord, your husband. 
 
 Ves. Cause 
 
 Bonfires and bell-ringings. 
 
 Flav. 1 must be with child, then, 
 
 An't be but for the public jollity ; 
 Or lose my longings, which were mighty pity. 
 
 Cam. Sweet fates forbid it ! 
 
 Enter Fabricio. 
 
 Fab. Noblest lady 
 
 Ves. Rudeness! 
 
 Keep off, or I shall Sawcy groom, learn manners ! 
 Go swab amongst your goblins. 
 
 Flav. Let him stay: 
 
 The fellow I have seen, and now remember 
 His name, Fabricio. 
 
 Fab. Your poor creature, lady ; 
 
 Out of your gentleness, please you to consid 
 The brief of this petition, which contains 
 All hope of my last fortunes. 
 
 Flav. I Give it from him.
 
 148 THE FANCIES, ACT If. 
 
 Cam. Her<*, madam. [Delivers the petitionJ]--^ 
 Mark, Vespucci, how the wittol ' 
 Stares on his sometime wife ! sure, he imagines 
 To be a cuckold by consent, is purchase 
 Of approbation in a state. 
 
 Ves. Good reason. 
 
 The gain reprieved him from bankerupt's statute, 
 And tilM him in the charter of his freedom. 
 " She had seen the fellow V* Did*st observe? 
 
 Cam. Most punctually : 
 
 Could call him by his name too ; why 'tis possible. 
 She has not yet forgot he was her husband. 
 
 Ves. That were strange : oh ! 'tis a precious 
 trinket. 
 Was ever puppet so slipt up ? 
 
 Catn. The tale 
 
 Of Venus' cat, man, chang'd into a woman, 
 Was emblem but to this. She turns. 
 
 Ves. A' stands 
 
 Just like Acteon in the painted cloth*. 
 
 Cain. No more. 
 
 Flav. Friend, we have read, and weighed 
 
 the sum 
 Of what your scrivener, [by] which ^ in effect 
 Is meant your counsel learned, has drawn for ye : 
 *Tis a fair hand, in sooth, but the contents 
 Somewhat unseasonable : for let us tell ye. 
 You've been a spender, a vain spender; wasted 
 Your stock of credit, and of wares, unthriftily. 
 You are a faulty man, and should we urge 
 Our lord as often for supplies, as shame, 
 
 ' Wittol^'] One that knows, and bears with, or winks at his 
 wife's dishonesty. CotgraTc. 
 
 * Painted cloth.'] The same as tajiestry, which was the most 
 fashionable manner of adorning the walls in those days. 
 
 J [I?y] tchich.'] The word in brackets is omitted in the ori- 
 ginal.
 
 SCENE I. CHASTE AND NOBLE. 143 
 
 Or wants, drive you to ask, it might be construed 
 An impudence, which we defy ; an impudence, 
 Base in base women, but in noble sinful. 
 Are ye not asham'd yet of yourself ? 
 
 Fab. Great lady. 
 
 Of my misfortunes I'm ashamed. 
 
 Cam. [^ Aside to V es.] So, so. 
 
 This jeer twangs roundly, does it not Vespucci t 
 Ves. Why, here's a lady worshipful ! 
 Flav. I^ray, gentlemen. 
 
 Retire a while ; this fellow shall resolve 
 Some doubts that stick about me. 
 
 Both. As you please. \^E.veunf. 
 
 Flav. To thee Fabricio, oh, the change U 
 cruel! 
 Since I find some small leisure, I must justify 
 Thou art unworthy of the name of man. 
 These holy vows, which we, by bonds of faith. 
 Recorded in the register of truth. 
 Were kept by me unbroken ; no assaults 
 Of gifts, of courtship, from the great and wanton, 
 No threats, nor sense of poverty, to which 
 Thy riots had betrayed me, could betray 
 My warrantable thoughts to impure folly. 
 Why would'st thou force me miserable? 
 
 Fab. The scorn 
 
 Of rumour is reward enough, to brand 
 My lewder actions: 'twas, 1 thought, impossible, 
 A beauty fresh as was your youth, could brook 
 The last of my decays. 
 
 Flav, Did I complain ? 
 
 My sleeps between thine arms were ev'n as sound. 
 My dreams as harmless, my contents as free, 
 As when the best of plenty crown'd our bride-bed. 
 Amongst some of a mean, but quiet, fortune. 
 Distrust of what they call their own, or jealousy 
 Of those whom in their bosoms they possess
 
 144 THE FANCIES, ACT II. 
 
 Without controul, begets a self-unworthiness; 
 For which fear, or, vvnat is worst, desire 
 Of paltry gain, tiiey practise art, and labour 
 To pandar their own wives: those wives, whose 
 
 innocence, 
 Stranger to language, spoke obedience only, 
 And such a wife was Flavia to Fabricio. 
 
 Fab. My loss is irrecoverable. 
 
 Flav. Call not 
 
 Thy wickedness thy loss ; without my knowledge 
 Thou sold'st me, and in open court protested'st 
 A pre-contract unto another, falsely. 
 To justify a separation. Wherein 
 Could 1 offend to be believ'd thy strumpet. 
 In best sense an adult'ress ? so conceiv'd 
 In all opinions, that 1 am shook off, 
 Ev'n from mine own blood, which, although I 
 
 boast 
 Not noble ; yet, 'twas not mean ; for Romanello, 
 Mine only brother, shuns me, and abhors 
 To own me for his sister. 
 
 Fab. 'Tis confest, 
 
 I am the shame of mankind. 
 
 Flav. I live happy 
 
 In this great lord's love, now ; but could his cun- 
 ning 
 Have train'd me to dishonour, we had never 
 Been sunder'd by the temptation of his purchase. 
 In troth, Fabricio, I am little proud of 
 My unsought honours, and so far from triumph, 
 That 1 am not more fool to such as honour me. 
 Than to myself, who hate this antick carriage*. 
 
 Fab. You are an angel rather to be worshipp'd 
 Than grossly to be talked with. 
 
 * Or,] So the quarto reads. 
 
 * This antick carriage-l The foolish, foppish behaviour, 
 Mhich she was forced to put on, in order to please her old bus- 
 band Julio.
 
 SCENE I. CHASTE AND NOBLE. 145 
 
 Flav. \Gives him money. ~^ Keep those ducats ; 
 I shall provide you better : 'twere a bravery, 
 Could you forget the place wherein you've renderM 
 Your name for ever hateful. 
 
 Fab. I will do't, 
 
 Do't, excellentest goodness, and conclude 
 My days in silent goodness. 
 
 Flav. You may prosper 
 
 In Spain, in France, or elsewhere, as in Italy. 
 Besides, you are a scholar bred, however 
 You interrupted study with commerce. 
 I'll think of your supplies ; meantime, pray, storm 
 
 not 
 At my behaviour to you ; I have forgot 
 Acquaintance with mine own keep your first dis- 
 tance. 
 
 Enter Julio, Camillo, and A^espucci. 
 
 Camillo! who is near? Vespucci ! 
 
 Jul. What? 
 
 Our lady's cast familiar? 
 
 Flav. Oh, my stomach 
 
 Wambles, at sight of sick, sick, 1 am sick 
 I faint at heart kiss me, nay pr'ythee quickly. 
 Or I shall swoon. You've staid a sweet while 
 
 from me. 
 And this companion' too beshrew him ! 
 
 Jul. Dearest, 
 
 Thou art my health, my blessing. Turn the bank- 
 rupt 
 Out of my doors ! Sirrah, I'll have thee whipt, 
 If thou com'st here again. 
 
 Cam. Hence, hence, you vermin ! 
 
 [^E.vit Fab. 
 
 Jul. How is't, my best of joys? 
 
 * This companion^~\ i. e. fellow. 
 VOL. II. K
 
 14:6 THE FANCIES, ACT 11. 
 
 Flav. Prettily mended ; 
 
 Now we have our own lord here. I shall never 
 Endure to spare you lon^ out of my sight. 
 See, what the thing presented. 
 
 Jul. A petition, 
 
 Belike for some new charity ? 
 
 Flav. We must not 
 
 Be trouhled with his needs ; a wanting creature 
 fs monstrous, is as ominous fie, upon't ! 
 Dispatch the silly mushroom once for all. 
 And send him with some pittance out o* th' coun- 
 try, 
 Where we may hear no more of him. 
 
 Jul. Thy will 
 
 Shall stand a law, my Flavia. 
 
 Flav. You have been 
 
 In private with our fellow peers now. Sha* not we 
 Know how the business stands ? Sure, in some 
 
 country. 
 Ladies are privy-counsellors, I warrant ye : 
 Are they not, think ye? there the land is, doubt- 
 less, 
 Most politickly govern'd ; all the women 
 Wear swords and breeches, I have heard most cer- 
 tainly 
 Such sights are excellent. 
 
 Jul. Thou*rt a matchless pleasure : 
 
 No life is sweet without thee ; in my heart 
 Reign empress, and be styl'd thy Julio's sovereign, 
 My only precious dear. 
 
 Fiav. We'll prove no less t'ye. 
 
 [^Exeunt.
 
 SCENE II. CHASTE AND NOBLE. 147 
 
 SCENE ll.A Hall in the Palace. 
 
 Enter Troylo and Livio. 
 
 Troi/. Sea-sick ashore still ! thou could*st rarely 
 *scape 
 A calenture in a long voyage, Livio, 
 Who in a short one, and at home, art subject 
 To such faint stomach qualms: no cordials comfort 
 The business of thy thoughts, for aught 1 see : 
 What ails thee, man ? be merry, hang up jealou- 
 sies ! 
 
 Liv. Who, 1 1 I jealous 1 no, no, here's no cause 
 In this place ; 'tis a nunnery, a retirement 
 For meditation ; all the difference extant 
 But puzzles only bare belief, not grounds it. 
 Rich services in place ! soft and fair lodgings, 
 Varieties of recreations, exercise 
 Of music in all changes, neat attendance, 
 Princely, nay royal furniture of garments, 
 Satiety of gardens, orchards, waterworks, 
 Pictures so ravishing that ranging eyes, 
 Might dwell upon a dotage of conceit. 
 Without a single wish for livelier substance ! 
 The great world, in a little world of fancy. 
 Is here abstracted : no temptation proffer'd 
 But such as fools and mad folks can invite to ; 
 And yet 
 
 Troj/. And yet your reason cannot answer 
 Th* objections of your fears, which argue danger. 
 
 Liv. Danger? dishonour, Troylo: were my sister 
 In safety from those charms, I must confess 
 I could live here for ever. 
 
 Troi/. But you could not, 
 
 I can assure you ; for't 'twere then scarce possible 
 A door might open t'you, hardly a loop-hole.
 
 148 THE FANCIES, ACT. 11. 
 
 Liv. My presence then is usher to her ruin, 
 And loss of her, the fruit of my preferment? 
 
 Troy. Briefly partake a secret ; but be sure 
 To lodge it in the inmost of thy bosom, 
 Where memory may not find it for discovery ; 
 By our firm truth of friendship, 1 require thee. 
 
 Liv. By our firm truth of friendship, 1 subscribe 
 To just conditions. 
 
 Troy. Our great uncle-marquis. 
 
 Disabled from his cradle, by an impotence 
 In nature first; that impotence since seconded 
 And render'd more infirm, by a fatal breach 
 Received in fight against the Turkish gallies, 
 Is made incapable of any faculty 
 Of active manhood, more than what affections 
 Proper unto his sex, must else distinguish : 
 So that no helps of art can warrant lite, 
 Should he transcend the bounds his weakness limits. 
 Liv. On : 1 attend with eagerness. 
 Troy. ' Tis strange 
 
 Such natural defects at no time check 
 A full and free sufficiency of spirit, 
 Which flows, both in so clear and flx'd a strength, 
 That to confirm belief, it seems, where nature 
 Is in the body lame, she is supplied 
 In fine proportion of the mind. A word 
 Concludes all: to a man his enemy. 
 He is a dangerous threat'ning; but to women, 
 However pleasurable, no way cunning 
 To shew abilities of friendship, other 
 Than what his outward senses can delight in. 
 Or charge and bounty court with. 
 
 Liv. Ciood, good Troylo, 
 
 Oh, that I had u lusty faith to credit it. 
 Though none of all this wonder should be possible. 
 
 Troy. As I love honour, and an honest name, 
 I faulter not, my Livio, in one syllable.
 
 SCENE II. CHASTE AND NOBLE. 149 
 
 Liv. News admirable ! 'tis, 'tis so. Pish, I know 
 it, 
 Yet he has a kind heart of his own to girls, 
 Young, handsome girls; yes, yes, so he may : 
 'Tis granted : he would now and then be piddling, 
 And play the wanton, like a fly that daUies 
 About a candle's flame ; then scorch his wings, 
 Drop down, and creep away, ha? 
 
 Troi/. Hardly that too ; 
 
 To look upon fresh beauties, to discourse 
 In an unblushing merriment of words. 
 To hear them play or sing, and see them dance ; 
 To pass the time in pretty amorous questions. 
 Read a chaste verse of love, or prattle riddles, 
 Is th* height of his temptations. 
 
 Liv. Send him joy on't. 
 
 Troi/. His choices are not of the courtly train, 
 Nor city's practice ; but the country's innocence ; 
 Such as are gentle born, not meanly ; such, 
 To whom both gawdiness and ape-like fashions 
 Are monstrous; such as cleanliness and decency. 
 Prompt to a virtuous envy; such as study 
 A knowledge of no danger, but themselves. 
 
 Liv. Well, 1 have liv'd in ignorance. The an- 
 cients. 
 Who chatted of the golden age, feign'd trifles. 
 Had they dreamt this, they would have truth'd it 
 
 heaven ; 
 I mean an earthly heaven, less it is not. 
 
 Troi/. Yet is this bachelor-miracle not free 
 from the epidemical headache. 
 
 Liv. The yellows ? 
 
 Tro^.' Huge jealous fits ; admitting none to enter 
 But me, his page and barber, with an eunuch, 
 And an old guardianness. It is a favour 
 ,Not common, that the license of your visits 
 To your own sister, now and then, is wink'd at.
 
 150 THE FANCIES, ACT II. 
 
 Liv. But why are you his instrument? his ne- 
 phew ! 
 'Tis ominous in nature. 
 
 Troy. Not in pohey : 
 
 Being his heir, I may take truce a little, 
 With mine own fortunes. 
 
 Liv. Knowing how things stand too. 
 
 Troy. At certain seasons, as the humour takes 
 him, 
 A set of music are permitted peaceably. 
 To cheer their solitariness, provided 
 They're strangers, not acquainted near the city : 
 But never the same twice, pardon him that ; 
 Nor must their stay exceed an hour, or two 
 At farthest, as at this wise wedding ; wherefore 
 His barber is the master to instruct 
 The lasses both in song and dance, by him 
 Trained up in either quality. 
 
 Liv. A caution 
 
 Happily studied. 
 
 Troy. Farther to prevent 
 
 Suspicion, he has married his young barber 
 To the old matron, and withal is pleased. 
 Report should mutter him a mighty man 
 For th' game, to take off all suspicion 
 Of insufficiency; and this strict company 
 He calls his Bower of Fancies. 
 
 Liv. Yes, and properly. 
 
 Since all his recreations are in fancy. 
 Vm infinitely taken. Sister ? marry, 
 * Would I had sisters in a plenty, Troylo, 
 So to bestow them all and turn them fancies. 
 Fancies? why 'tis a pretty name, methinks. 
 
 Troy. Something remains, which in conclusion 
 
 shortly, [A Song behind the scenes. 
 
 Shall take thee fuller. Hark, the wedding jollity !
 
 SCENE II. CHASTE AND NOBLE. 151 
 
 With a bride-cake on my life, to grace the nuptials ! 
 Perhaps the ladies will turn songsters. 
 Liv, Silence ! 
 
 Enter Secco a?id Morosa, with Castamela, 
 Floria, Clarella, Silvia, Spadone, and 
 Musicians. 
 
 Sec. Passing neat and exquisite, I protest, fair 
 creatures. These honours to our solemnity are li- 
 beral and uncommon ; my spouse and myself, with 
 our posterity, shall prostitute our services to your 
 bounties. Shall's not duckling ? 
 
 Mor. Yes, honeysuckle ; and do as much for 
 them one day, if things stand right as they should 
 stand. Bill, pigeon, do; thou'st be my cat-a-moun- 
 tain, and I thy sweet-briar, honey. We'll lead you 
 to kind examples, pretty ones, believe it; and you 
 shall find us, one in one, whilst hearts do last. 
 
 Sec. Ever mine own, and ever. 
 
 Spa. Well said, old touch-hole. 
 
 Liv. All happiness, all joy ! 
 
 Troy. A plenteous issue ; 
 
 A fruitful womb. Thou hast a blessing, Secco. 
 
 Mor. Indeed, he has, sir, if ye know all, as 1 
 conceive you know enough, if not the whole : for 
 you have, I may say, tried me to the quick, through 
 and through, and most of my carriage, from time to 
 time. 
 
 Sjm. 'Twould wind-break a moiP, or a ringed 
 mare, to vie burthens with her. [^Aside. 
 
 Mor. What's that you mumble, gelding, shey? 
 
 Spa. Nothing, forsooth, but that you're a boun- 
 cing couple well met, and 'twere pity to part you, 
 though you hung together in a smoky chimney. 
 
 ^ Moil.'] An old word for a mule, frequently occurring in 
 these plays. See Vol. I. p. 301. Further on, Secco bestows 
 the same term as a reproach upon his wife.
 
 152 THE FANCIES, ACT II. 
 
 Mor. *Twere e'en pity, indeed, Spadone: nay, 
 thou'st a foolish loving nature of thine own, and 
 wishest well to plain dealings, o'my conscience. 
 
 Spa. Thank your brideship your bawdship. 
 
 [Aside, 
 
 Flo. Our sister is not merry. 
 
 Clar. Sadness cannot 
 
 Become a bridal harmony. 
 
 Sil. At a wedding 
 
 Free spirits are required. 
 
 Troy. You should dispense 
 
 With serious thoughts now, lady. 
 
 Mor. Well said, gentlefolks. 
 
 Liv. Fie, Castamela, fie ! 
 
 All. A dance, a dance ! 
 
 Troif. By any means, the day is not complete else. 
 
 Cast. Indeed, I'll be excus'd. 
 
 Troy. By no means, lady. 
 
 Sec. We all are suitors. 
 
 Cast. With your pardons, spare me ; 
 
 For this time grant me licence to look on. 
 
 Mor\ Command your pleasures, lady. Every 
 one hand 
 Your partner : nay, Spadone must make one ; 
 These merriments are free. 
 
 Spa. With all my heart, Tm sure I am not the 
 heaviest in the company. Strike up for the honour 
 of the bride and bridegroom. [A Dance. 
 
 Troy. So, so, here's art in motion : On all parts. 
 You have bestirr'd you nimbly. 
 
 Mor. I could dance no*./, 
 
 E'en till I dropt again ; but want of practice 
 Denies the scope of breath, or so : yet, sirrah, 
 
 ' Mor.'\ This speech is printed as \xi of Castamcla's in the 
 old copy, the impropriety of which is so rery evident, that no 
 defence of the alteration can be required.
 
 SCENE II. CHASTE AND NOBLE. 163 
 
 My cat-a-mountain, do not I trip quickly, 
 And with a grace too, sirrah ? 
 
 Sec. Light as a feather. 
 
 Spa. Sure you are not without a stick of liquo- 
 rice in your pocket, forsooth ? You have, 1 be- 
 lieve, stout lungs of you own ; you swim about so 
 roundly without rubs. *Tis a tickling sight to be 
 young still. 
 
 Enter Nitido. 
 
 Nit. Madam Morosa. 
 
 Mor. Child ] 
 
 Nit. To^ou in secret. 
 
 Spa. That ear-wig scatters the troop now ; I'll 
 go near to fit 'em. 
 
 Liv. My lord, upon my life 
 
 Trot/. Then we must sever. 
 
 Mor. Ladies and gentlemen, your ears. 
 
 Spa. Oh, *twas ever a wanton monkey he will 
 wriggle into a starting-hole so cleanly. An it had 
 been on my wedding-day, I know what I know. 
 
 Seel Say*st so, Spadone ? 
 
 Spa. Nothing, nothing ; I prate sometimes be- 
 side the purpose. Whoreson, lecherous weazle ! 
 
 Sec. Look, look, look, how officious the little 
 knave is ! but 
 
 Spa. Why, there's the business ; buts on one's 
 forehead are but scurvy buts. 
 
 Mor. Spadone, discharge the fidlers instantly. 
 
 Spa. Yes, I know my postures. Oh monstrous 
 buts ! [Exit. 
 
 Mor. Attend within, sweeting. Your pardons 
 gentlemen. To your recreations, dear virgins ! 
 Page, have a care. 
 
 Nit. My duty, reverend madam. 
 Trot/. Livio, away ! Sweet beauties
 
 l^^ THE FANCIES, ACT II. 
 
 Cast. Brother. 
 
 Liv. Suddenly ' 
 
 1 shall return. Now for a round temptation. [Aside. 
 
 Mor. One gentle word in private with your lady- 
 ship; 
 I shall not hold you long. 
 
 [Exeunt severally^ Mor. stays Cast. 
 
 Cast. What means this huddle 
 
 Of flying several ways thus ? Who has frighted 
 
 them ? 
 They live not at devotion here, or pension \ 
 Pray quit me of distrust. 
 
 Mor. May it please your goodness, 
 
 You'll find him even in every point as honourable, 
 As flesh and blood can vouch him. 
 
 Cast. Ha ! him ! whom I 
 
 What him ? 
 
 Mor. He will not press beyond his bounds. 
 
 He will but chat and toy, and feel your 
 
 Ca^t. Guard me 
 
 A powerful genius ! feel 
 
 Mor. Your hands to kiss them, 
 
 Your fair, pure, white hands. What strange busi- 
 ness is it \ 
 These melting twins of ivory, but softer 
 Than down of turtles, shall but leed the appetite 
 
 Cast. A rape upon my ears. 
 
 Mor. The appetite 
 
 Of his poor ravish*d eye ; should he swell higher 
 In his desires, and soar upon ambition 
 Of rising in humility, by degrees ; 
 Perhaps he might crave leave to clap 
 
 Cast. Pond * woman, 
 
 In thy grave sinful. 
 
 ' Suddenlj/y] Quickly, hastily. 
 
 * Fond,'] Foolish, lu the north the word is still used in thie
 
 SCENE II. CHASTE AND NOBLE. 155 
 
 Mor. Clap or pat the dimples, 
 
 Where love*s tomb stands erected on your cheeks. 
 Else pardon those slight exercises, pretty one : 
 His lordship is as harmless a weak implement, 
 As e'er young lady trembled under. 
 
 Cast. Lordship ! 
 
 Stead me my modest anger ! *tis belike then, 
 Religious matron, some great man's prison, 
 Where virgins* honours suffer martyrdom. 
 And you are their tormentor ; let's lay down 
 Our ruinM names to the insulter*s mercy ! 
 Let's sport and smile on scandal rare calamity, 
 What hast thou toil'd me in ! You named his 
 
 lordship, 
 Some gallant youth, and fiery ? 
 
 Mor. No, no, 'deed la ! 
 
 A very grave, stale bachelor, my dainty one ; 
 There's the conceit : he's none of your hot rovers. 
 Who ruffle at first dash, and so disfigure 
 Your dresses, and your sets of blush at once. 
 He's wise in years, and of a temperate warmth ; 
 Mighty in means and power, and withal liberal : 
 A wanton in his wishes, but else, farther. 
 He cannot 'cause he cannot 
 
 Cast. Cannot? pr'ythee 
 
 Be plainer ; I begin to like thee strangely ; 
 What cannot! 
 
 Mor. Y'ou urge timely, and to purpose : 
 
 He cannot do, the truth is truth, do any thing. 
 As one should say, that's any thing ; put case 
 I do but put the case, forsooth, he find ye. 
 
 Cast. My stars I thank ye, for being ignorant, 
 Of what this old-in-mischief can intend. 
 And so we might be merry, bravely merry ? 
 
 sense. Lilly says in Euphues and his England, ^' He that is 
 young thinketh the old man /o/jrf, and the olde knowcth the 
 young man to be a foole."
 
 IpG THE FANCIES, ACT II. 
 
 Mor. You hit it what else. She is cunning 
 \^Astde.~\ Look ye, 
 Pray lend your hand, forsooth. 
 
 Cast, Why, pr'ythee, take it. 
 
 Mor. You have a delicate moist palm umph 
 can ye 
 Relish that tickle ! there. 
 
 Cast. And laugh, if need were. 
 
 Mor. And laugh ? why now you have it ; what 
 hurt pray 
 Perceive ye? there's all, all; go to, you want tu- 
 toring. 
 Are an apt scholar ; Til neglect no pains 
 For your instruction. 
 
 Cast. Do not. But his lordship. 
 
 What may his lordship be ? 
 
 Mor. No worse man 
 
 Than marquis of Sienna, the great master 
 Of this small family ; your brother ' found him 
 A bounteous benefactor, has advanced him 
 The gentleman o'th' horse ; in a short time 
 He means to visit.you himself in person. 
 As kind, as loving an old man ! 
 
 Cast, We'll meet him 
 
 With a full flame of welcome. Is't the marquis ? 
 No worse ? 
 
 Mor. No worse I can assure your ladyship ; 
 
 The only free maintainer of the Fancies. 
 
 Cast. Fancies ? how mean ye that ? 
 
 Mor. The pretty souls 
 
 Who are companions in the house ; all daughters 
 To honest virtuous parents, and right worshipful ; 
 A kind of chaste collapsed ladies. 
 
 Cast. Chaste too, 
 
 And yet collapsed ? 
 
 * Master^"] So the old copy reads erroneously. The compo> 
 sitor no doubt caught the word from the preceding line.
 
 SCENE II. CHASTE AKD NOBLE. 157 
 
 Mor. Only in their fortunes. 
 
 Cast. Sure, I must be a Fancy in the number. 
 
 Mor. A Fancy principal, I hope you'll fashion 
 Your entertainment, when the maiquis courts you, 
 As that 1 may stand blameless. 
 
 Cast. Free suspicion '. 
 
 My brother's raiser I 
 
 Mor. Merely. 
 
 Cast. My supporter \ 
 
 Mor. Undoubtedly. 
 
 Ca^t An old man and a lover? 
 
 Mor. True, there's the music, the content, the 
 harmony. 
 
 Cast. And I myself a Fancy \ 
 
 Mor. You are pregnant *. 
 
 Cast. The chance is thrown ; I now am fortune's 
 minion ; 
 I will be bold and resolute. 
 
 Mor. Blessing on thee ! \_Exeunt. 
 
 * Free suspicion,'] i. e. Free your mind from suspicion ; a 
 singular phrase ; but similar liberties are frequently taken in old 
 plays, peculiarly in those of Ford. 
 
 * Vou are pregnant.] You are cunning, quick, ready at 
 guessing. From the following passage in Shakespeare's Twelfth. 
 Night, it appears to have been a newly coined word in his time, 
 or at least one of those quaint phrases which gallants put down 
 in their tablets, to show their fashionable learning in some future 
 conversation : 
 
 Viola. My matter hatli no voice, lady, but to your own most pregnant and 
 ouchsatcd ear. 
 
 Sir Andi-etc. Odoors, pregnant, aud vouchsafed : I'll get ihem all three 
 ready.
 
 158 THE FANCIES, ACT HI. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 SCENE I. The Street. 
 
 Enter Romanello. 
 
 Rom. Prosper me now my fate ; some better ge- 
 nius, 
 Than such a one as waits on troubled passions, 
 Direct my courses to a noble issue ! 
 My thoughts have wanderM in a labyrinth, 
 But if the clue I have laid hold on fail not, 
 I shall tread out the toil of these dark paths. 
 In spite of politic reaches. 1 am furnish'd 
 In mine own hopes by her unlucky fortunes. 
 Whose fame is ruin'd. Flavia, my lost sister ! 
 Lost to report by her unworthy husband, 
 Though heightened by a greatness, in whose mix- 
 tures, 
 I hate to claim a part. 
 
 Enter Nitido. 
 
 Oh welcome, welcome. 
 Dear boy! thou keep'st time with my expectations 
 As justly as the promise of my bounties 
 Shall reckon with thy service. 
 
 Nit. I have fashionM 
 
 The means of your admittance. 
 
 Rom. Precious Nitido ! 
 
 Nit. More, 'have bethought me of a shape, a 
 quaint one, 
 You may appear in, safe and unsuspected. 
 
 Rom. Thou'rt an ingenious boy. 
 
 Nit, Beyond all this ; 
 
 Have so contriv'd the feat, that, at first sight, 
 
 10
 
 SCENE I. CHASTE AND NOBLE. 169 
 
 Troylo himself shall court your entertainment ; 
 Nay, force you to vouchsafe it. 
 
 Itom. Thou hast done 
 
 All counsel, and all cunning. 
 
 Nit. True, I have, sir, 
 
 FadgM ' nimbly in my practises : but surely, 
 There are some certain clogs, some roguish staggers, 
 Some what shall I call 'em ] in the business. 
 
 Horn. Nitido, 
 
 What, faint now 1 dear heart, bear up : what stag- 
 gers ] 
 What clogs ? let me remove them. 
 
 Nit. Am I honest 
 
 In this discovery ? 
 
 JHom. Honest I pish, is that all I 
 
 By this rich purse, and by the twenty ducats 
 Which line it, I will answer tor thy honesty 
 Against all Italy, and prove it perfect. 
 Besides, remember I am bound to secrecy. 
 Thou' It not betray thyself? 
 
 Nit. AH fears are clear'd then ; 
 
 But if 
 
 Bom. If what? out with't. 
 
 Nit. If we're discover'd, 
 
 You'll answer, I am honest still ? 
 
 Jiotn. Do'st doubt it ? 
 
 Nit. Not much ; I have your purse in pawn for it. 
 Now to the shape : and know *, the wit in Florence, 
 Who, in the great duke's court, buffoons his com- 
 pliment. 
 According to the change of meats in season. 
 At every free lord's table 
 
 ' Fudged,'] Proceeded, succeeded. A yery common word in 
 the old dramatists. 
 
 * And know the wits in Florence.'] I strongly suspect the 
 author wrote^ Fo know the wit in Florence.
 
 iCO THE FANCIES, ACT III. 
 
 Horn. Or free meetings 
 
 In taverns; there he sits at the upper end, 
 And eats, and prates, he cares not how nor what : 
 The very quake ot fashions, the very he that 
 Wears a stiletto on his chin '. 
 
 Nit. You have him. 
 
 Like such a thing must you appear, and study. 
 Amongst the ladies, in a formal foppery, 
 To vent some curiosity of language. 
 Above their apprehensions, or your own, 
 Indeed beyond sense; you are the more the person: 
 Now amorous, then scurvy, sometimes bawdy ; 
 The same man still, but evermore fantastical, 
 As being the suppositor* to laughter ; 
 It hath sav'd charge in physic. 
 
 Bom. When occasion 
 
 Offers itself, for where it does or not, 
 I win be bold to take it, 1 may turn 
 To some one in the company ; and changing 
 My method, talk of state, and rail against 
 Th* employment of the time, mislike the carriage ^ 
 Of places, and mislike that men of parts, 
 Of merit, such as myself am, are not 
 
 * A stiletto on his thin.'] The stiletto beard was a yery fa- 
 shionable appendage to the chin of a cuurticr. So in a ballad 
 quoted by Mr Malonc from a ballad in Le Prince d' Amour : 
 
 " The steelcllo beard, 
 O, it makes me afoard, 
 
 It is so sharp beneath ; 
 Fur he thai dutli place 
 A dagger in his face, 
 
 Wiiat wears he in his sheath." 
 
 ' 77<c suppositor.l A metaphor taken from physic : '' A 
 iuppositarie, made of honey and salt boyled into the consistance 
 of paste, and fashioned somewhat like a &ngcr." ~~'Cotgrave. 
 
 ^ The carnuf^c of j)l aces.] Carriage is used in such a variety 
 of senses by old authors, that it is sometimes difficult to discover 
 its precise meaning in a ])articnlar passage. Here it seems to stand 
 for application, or bestowing of places.
 
 SCENE I. CHASTE AND NOBLE. 161 
 
 Thrust into public action : 'twill set off 
 A privilege I challenge from opinion, 
 With a more lively current. 
 
 Nil. On my modesty, 
 
 You are some kin to him. Signior Prugnioli t 
 Signior Mushrumpo ! 
 
 Leap but into his antick garb ', and trust me 
 You'll fit it to a thought. 
 
 Rom. The time ? 
 
 Nit. As suddenly 
 
 As you can be transformed ; for the event, 
 'Tis pregnant. 
 
 Rom. Yet my pretty knave, thou hast not 
 
 Discovered where fair Castamela lives ; 
 Nor how, nor amongst whom. 
 
 Nit. Pish, yet more queries * ? 
 
 Till your own eyes inform, be silent ; else 
 Take back your earnest. What \ turn woman ? fie ! 
 Be idle and inquisitive \ 
 
 Rom. No more. 
 
 I shall be speedily provided ; ask for 
 A note at mine own lodging. [Exit, 
 
 Nit. rU not fail you, 
 
 Assuredly, I will not fail you, signior, 
 My fine inamorato. Twenty ducats ? 
 They're half his quarter's income. Love, oh love, 
 M^hat a pure madness art thou ! I shall fit him. 
 Fit, quit, and split him too. Most bounteous sir. 
 
 Enter Troylo. 
 
 Troy. Boy, thou art quick and trusty, 
 Be withal close and silent, and thy pains 
 Shall meet a liberal addition. 
 
 Nit. Though, sir, 
 
 Tm but a child, yet you shall find me 
 
 * Antick garb^ i. e. quaint, uocommon dress. 
 
 * Pishy it more queres .^] So the old quarto reads. 
 VOL. II. L
 
 I63 THE FANCIES, ACT III. 
 
 Troy, Man 
 
 In the contrivements, I will speak for thee. 
 Well he does relish the disguise ] 
 
 Nit. Most greedily ; 
 
 Swallows it with a liquorish delight ; 
 Will instantly be shaped in't, instantly. 
 And, on my conscience, sir, the supposition 
 Strengthened by supposition, will transform him 
 Into the beast itself he does resemble. 
 
 Troy. Spend that and look for more, boy. 
 
 [Gives money. 
 
 Nit. Sir, it needs not : 
 
 I have already twenty ducats pursed 
 In a gay case : *las, sir! to you, my service 
 Is but my duty. 
 
 Troy. Modesty in pages 
 
 Shows not a virtue, boy, when it exceeds 
 Good manners. \V here must we meet ? 
 
 Nit. Sir, at's lodging, 
 
 Or near about : he will make hasle, believe it. 
 
 Troy. Wait th' opportunity, and give me notice. 
 I shall attend. 
 
 Nit. If I miss my part, hang me ! [^Exit. 
 
 SCENE II. An Apartment in Julio's House. 
 
 Enter Vespucci and Camillo. 
 
 Vesp. Come, thou art caught, Camillo. 
 
 Cam. Away, away. 
 
 That were a jest indeed ; I caught ? 
 
 Vcsp. The lady 
 
 Does scatter glances, wheels her round, and smiles; 
 Steals an occasion to ask how the minutes 
 Each hour have run in progress ; then thou kissest 
 All thy four fingers, crouchest and sigh'st faintly :
 
 SCENE ir. CHASTE AND NOBLE. 163 
 
 " Dear beauty, if my watch keep fair decorum, 
 Three quarters have near past the figure X ;** 
 Or as the time of day goes 
 
 Lam. So, Vespucci : 
 
 This will not do, I read it on thy forehead. 
 The grain of thy complexion is quite altered ; 
 Once 'twas a comely brown, 'tis now of late 
 A pertiect green and yellow ; sure prognosticates 
 Of th* overflux o'th' gall, and melancholy. 
 Symptoms of love and jealousy. *' Poor soul !'* 
 Quoth she, the she^ " why hang thy looks like bell- 
 ropes 
 Out of the wheels ?" Thou, flinging down thy eyes 
 Low at her feet, reply'st, " Because, oh sovereign ! 
 The great bell of my heart is crack' d, and never 
 Can ring in tune again, till't be new cast 
 By one only skilful foundress." Hereat 
 She turned aside, wink'd, thou stood'st still, and 
 
 star'dst ; 
 I did observe it : be plain, what hope! 
 
 Vesp. She loves thee ; 
 
 Doats on thee ; in my hearing told her lord 
 Camillo was the Pyramus and I'hisbe 
 Ot courtship, and of compliment : ah ha ! 
 She nick'd it there : I envy not thy fortunes : 
 For, to say truth, thou'rt handsome and deserv'st her, 
 Were she as great again as she is. 
 
 Cam. 1 handsome ? 
 
 Alas, alas, a creature of Heaven's making, 
 There's all ! But, sirrah, pr'ythee, let's be sociable ; 
 I do confess, I think the goody-madam 
 May possibly be compass d : 1 resolve, too, 
 To put in for a share, come what can come on't. 
 Vesp. A pretty toy *tis Since thou'rt open 
 breasted, 
 Camillo, 1 presume she is [a] wanton, 
 And therefore mean to give the sowse whenever 
 1 find the game on wing.
 
 164 THE FANCIES, ACT III. 
 
 Cam, Let us consider : 
 
 She's but a merchant's leavings. 
 
 Vesp. riatch'd i'th' country, 
 
 And tledg'd i'th' city. 
 
 Cawi. 'Tis a common custom 
 
 'Mongst friends, they are not friends else chief- 
 ly gallants, < 
 To trade by turns in such like frail commodities : 
 The one is but reversioner to t'other. ^ 
 
 Vesp. Why, 'tis the fashion, man. 
 
 Cam. Most free and proper ; ^ 
 
 One surgeon, one apothecary. 
 
 Vesp. Thus, then ; 
 
 When I am absent, use the gentlest memory 
 Of my endowments, my unblemish'd services 
 To ladies' favours : with what faith and secrecy, ; 
 I live in her commands, whose special courtesies "^ 
 Oblige me to particular engagements. 
 I'll do as much for thee. 
 
 Cam. With this addition, 
 *' Camillo, best of fairs, a man so bashful, 
 So simply harmless, and withal so constant. 
 Yet resolute in all true rights of honour ; > 
 
 That to dehver him in perfect character, 
 Were to detract from such a solid virtue 
 As reigns not in another soul ; he is" 
 
 Vesp. The thing a mistress ought to wish her ser- 
 vant. 
 Are we agreed I 
 
 Cam. Most readily. On th' other side, 
 
 Unto the lord her husband, talk as coarsely 
 Of one another as we can. 
 
 Vesp. I like it, 
 
 So shall we sift her love, and his opinion. 
 
 Enter Julio, Flavia, and Fabricio. 
 Jul. Be thankful, fellow, to a noble mistress ;
 
 SCENE II. CHASTE AND NOBLE. \65 
 
 Two hundred ducats are no trifling sum, 
 Nor common alms. 
 
 Flav. You must not loiter lazily, 
 
 And speak about the town, my friend, in taverns. 
 In gaming-houses ; nor sneak after dinner 
 To public shews, to interludes, in riot. 
 To some lewd painted baggage, trick'd up gaudily, 
 Like one of us : Oh, fie upon them, giblets ! 
 I have been told they ride in coaches, flaunt it 
 In braveries, so rich, that 'tis scarce possible 
 How to distinguish one of these vile naughty packs 
 From true and arrant ladies; they'll inveigle 
 Your substance and your body, think on that, 
 I say, your body ; look to't. 
 Is't not sound counsel ? 
 
 Jul. 'Tis more, 'tis heavenly. 
 
 Vesp. \_Aslde to Cam.] What hope, Camillo, now, 
 if this tune hold I 
 
 Cam. Hope fair enough, Vespucci, now as ever; 
 Why, any woman in her husband's presence 
 Can say no less. 
 
 Vcsp. ' Tis true, and she hath leave here. 
 
 Fah. Madam, your care and charity at once 
 Have so new-moulded my resolves, that henceforth 
 Whene'er my mention tails into report. 
 It shall requite this bounty : 1 am travelling 
 To a new world. 
 
 Jul. I like your undertakings. 
 
 Flav. New world ! where's that I pray ] good, 
 if you light on 
 A parrot or a monkey that has qualities 
 Of a new fashion, think on me. 
 
 Fab. Yes, lady ; 
 
 Aye, I shall think on you ; and my devotions 
 Tender' d where they are due in single meekness, 
 W^ith purer flames will mount, with free increase 
 Of plenty, honoursj full contents, full blessings.
 
 I- 
 
 166 THE FANCIES, ACT III. 
 
 Truth and affection *twixt your lord and you. 
 
 So witli my humblest, best leave, 1 turn from you. 
 
 Never, as now, 1 am to appear before you. 
 
 All joys dwell here, and lasting ! [^Exit. 
 
 Flav. Pr'ythee, sweetest. 
 
 Hark in your ear. Beshrevv't, the brim of your hat 
 Struck in mine eyes. Dissemble honest tears. 
 The griefs my heart does labour in [Aside.'] [It] 
 
 smarts 
 Unmeasurably. 
 
 Jul. A chance, a chance; 'twill off; 
 
 Suddenly off: forbear ; this handkerchief 
 But makes it worse. 
 
 Cam. Wink, madam, with that eye : 
 
 The pain will quickly pass. 
 
 Vesp. Immediately ; 
 
 I know it by experience. 
 
 Flav. Yes, 1 find it. 
 
 Jul. Spare us a little, gentlemen 
 
 [Exit Cam. a/irf Vesp. 
 Speak freely : 
 What wert thou saying, dearest ? 
 
 Flav. Do you love me ? 
 
 Answer in sober sadness : Tm your wife now ; 
 1 know my place and power. 
 
 Jul. * What's this riddle ? 
 
 Thou hast thyself replied to thine own question. 
 In being married to me ; a sure argument 
 Of more than protestation. 
 
 Flav. Such it should be 
 
 Were you as other husbands : it is granted, 
 A woman of my state may like good clothes, 
 Choice diet, many servants, change ot merriments ; 
 All these 1 do enjoy : and wherefore not ? 
 Great ladies should command their own delights r-^-^ 
 And yet, tor all this, 1 am us'd but homely. 
 But 1 am serv'd even well enough.
 
 SCENE n. CHASTE AND NOBLE. l'67 
 
 Jul. My Flavia, 
 
 I understand not what thou would'st. 
 
 Fiav, Pray pardon me ; 
 
 I do confess I'm foolish, very foolish ; 
 Trust me, indeed 1 am ; for I could cry 
 Mine eyes out, being in the weeping humour: 
 You know 1 have a brother. 
 
 Jul. Romanello, 
 
 An unkind brother. 
 
 Flav. Right, right : since you bosom'cl 
 
 My latter youth, he never would vouchsafe 
 As much as to come near me. Oh, it mads me, 
 Being but two, that we should live at distance ; 
 As if 1 were a cast-away, and you, 
 For your part, take no care on't, nor attempted 
 To draw him hither. 
 
 Jul. Say the man be peevish, 
 
 Must I petition him 1 
 
 Flav. Yea, marry, must you, 
 
 Or else you love not me. Not see my brother ? 
 Yes 1 will see him; so I will, will see him. 
 You hear' t. Oh my good lord, dear gentle, pr'ythee, 
 You sha'nt be angry : 'las, 1 know, poor gentleman ! 
 He bears a troubled mind : but let us meet 
 And talk a little; we perhaps may chide 
 At first, shed some few tears, and then be quiet ; 
 There's all. 
 
 Jul. Write to him and invite him hither. 
 Or go to him thyself. Come, no more sadness ; 
 I'll do what thou can'st wish. 
 
 Flav. And, in requital, 
 
 Believe I shall say something that may settle 
 A constancy of peace for which thou'lt thank me.
 
 168 THE FANCIES^ ACT III. 
 
 SCENE 111. An Apartmeiit in the Palace. 
 
 Enter Secco and Spa done. 
 
 Sec. The rarest fellow, Spadone ! so full of gam- 
 bols ; he talks so humorously does he not I so 
 carelessly; oh, rich ' ! o' my hope of posterity! 1 
 could be in love with him. 
 
 Spa. His tongue trouls* like a mill-clack ; he 
 towzes the ladies' sisters, as a tumbling dog does 
 young rabbits. Hey here, dab there. Your Ma- 
 donna, he has a catch at her too ; there's a trick in 
 the business, I am a dunce else, 1 say, a shrewd 
 One. 
 
 Sec. Jump with me ^; I smell a trick too, if I 
 could tell what. 
 
 Spa. Who brought him in! that would be known. 
 
 Sec. That did signior Troylo ; 1 saw the page 
 part at the door. Some trick still : go to, wife, I 
 must and I will have an eyt to this gear*. 
 
 Spa. A plain case ; roguery, brokage and roguery, 
 or call me bulchin*. Fancies, quoth a' I rather 
 
 ' Oh, rich /] I am unable to explain this exclamatiun, and 
 suspect some corruption. 
 
 * Ilis tongue trouls.] So in Perkin Warbeck, 
 
 " Like to so many choristers in Bedlam 
 Trowl'uig a catrJi." 
 
 See the note on tliat passage, p. 53. of this Tolume. 
 
 ^ Jump with me, ^ i.e. exactly what 1 think. It was a Tcry 
 common phrase in uur author's days, and is still used iu some of 
 the remote parts of England. 
 
 * Geary] i.e. business. This was a colloquial expression of fre. 
 qucnt occurrence, and used in a very indeteimniate manner. For 
 this gear, was nearly cm|)loyed in the same manner as for the 
 nonce; e. g. in the Merchant of Venice : *' If fortune be a wo- 
 man, she's a good wench ^or this gear." 
 
 5 Bulchinj] Seems to haTc been a^oung mate calf, as Mr Reed
 
 SCENE III. CHASTE AND NOBLE. 169 
 
 frenzies. We shall all roar shortly ; turn madcaps ; 
 lie open to what comes first : 1 may stand to't. 
 That boy page is a naughty boy page. Let me 
 feel your forehead : ha, oh, hum, yes, there, 
 there again. Tm sorry for ye; a hand-saw cannot 
 cure ye. Monstrous and apparent ! 
 
 Sec. What! what? what? what? what, Spadone? 
 
 Spa. What, what, what, what! nothing but vel- 
 vet tips' ; you are of the first head yet. Have a good 
 heart, man ; a cuckold, though he be a beast, wears 
 invisible horns; else we might know a city-bull 
 from a country-calf. Villainous boy, still ! 
 
 Sec. My razor .shall be my weapon, my razor. 
 
 Spa. Why, he's not come to the honour of a 
 beard yet; he needs no shaving. 
 
 Sec. I will trim him and tram him. 
 
 Spa. Nay, she may do well enough for one. 
 
 Sec. One? ten, a hundred, a thousand, ten thou- 
 sand ; do beyond arithmetic, Spadone ! 1 speak 
 it with some passion, 1 am a notorious cuckold. 
 
 Spa. Gross and ridiculous ! Look ye ! point blank 
 I dare not swear that this same mountebanking 
 new-come foist*, is at least a procurer in the busi- 
 ness, if not a pretender himself: but 1 think what 
 I think. 
 
 Sec. Hee, Troylo, Livio, the page, that hole- 
 creeping page, all horn me, sirrah. I'll forgive thee 
 from my heart. Dost not thou drive a trade too in 
 my bottom ? 
 
 Spa. A likely matter ! 'Las, I'm metamorphosed, 
 I : be patient, you'll mar all else. 
 
 conjectures. So in Dekkcr's Satiromastrix : *' Dost roar, buU 
 chin, dost roar?" 
 
 ' Velvet tips.l In allusion to the down or Tclvet upon tbc 
 first sprouting horns of a young deer. 
 
 * Foist.^ Cotgrave explains men/eur, "A Iyer, fibber, /or'i^.. 
 rr, fabler, cogger, Icasing-mungar, false limmer." 
 
 in
 
 170 THE FANCIES, ACT III. 
 
 Within. Ha, ha, ha, ha ! 
 
 Sec. Now, now, now, now the game's rampant, 
 rampant. 
 
 Spa. Leave your wild figaries, and learn to be a 
 tame antick, or I'll observe no longer. 
 
 Witliin. Ha, ha, ha, ha ! 
 
 jEw/erTROYLO,CASTAMELA,FLORIA,CLARELLA, 
 
 Silvia, Morosa, and Romanello, like a 
 courtly Mountebank. 
 
 Sil. You are extremely bus}^ signior. 
 
 Flo. Courtly, 
 
 Without a fellow ! 
 
 Clar. Have a stabbing wit. 
 
 Cast. But are you always, when you press on 
 ladies 
 Of mild and easy nature, so much satire, 
 So tart and keen as we do taste you now ? 
 It argues a lean brain. 
 
 Jiojn. Gip to your beauties ! 
 
 You would be fair, forsooth ; you would be mon- 
 sters ; 
 Fair women are such ; monsters to be seen 
 Are rare, and so are they. 
 
 Trot/. Bear with him, ladies. 
 
 Mor. He is a foul-mouth'd man. 
 
 Sec. Whore, bitch-fox, treedle, fa la la la! 
 
 Mor. How's that, my cat-a-mountain? 
 
 Sva. Hold her there, boy, 
 
 Clar. Were you e'er in love, fine signior ! 
 
 Bom. Yes, for sport's sake; 
 
 But soon forgot it. He that rides a gallop 
 Is quickly weary. I esteem of love 
 As of a man in some huge place; it puzzles 
 Reason, distracts the freedom of the soul ; 
 Rf'nders a wise man fool, and a fool wise 
 In's own concc'it, not'else ; it yields eftccts
 
 SCENE III. CHASTE AND NOBLE. 171 
 
 Of pleasure, travail ; bitter, sweet ; war, peace ; 
 Thornes, roses ; prayers, curses ; longings, surfeits, 
 Despair, and then a rope. Oh, my trim lover! 
 Yes, i have loved a score at once. 
 
 Spa. Out stallion ! as 1 am a man and no man, 
 the baboon lies, 1 dare swear, abominably. 
 
 Sec. Inhumanly, keep your bow close, vixen. 
 
 [^F inches Mor. 
 
 Mor. Beshrew your fingers, if you be in earnest: 
 You pinch too hard, goto; V\\ pare your nails for't. 
 
 Spa. She means your horns, there's a bob for you. 
 
 Clar. Spruce signior, if a man may love so many, 
 Why may not a fair lady have like privilege 
 Of several servants ? 
 
 Troy, Answer that ; the reason 
 
 Holds the same weight. 
 
 Mor. Marry, and so it does. 
 
 Though he would spit his gall out. 
 
 Spa. Mark that, Secco. 
 
 Sil. D*ye pump for a reply \ 
 
 Mom. The learned differ 
 
 In that point ; grand and famous scholars often 
 Have argued pro and con^ and left it doubtful ; 
 Volumes have been writ on't. If then great clerks 
 Suspend their resolutions, 'tis a modesty 
 For me to silence mine. 
 
 Flo. Dull and phlegmatick ! 
 
 Clar. Yet women sure, in such a case, are ever 
 More secret than men are. 
 
 <SV/. Yea, and talk less. 
 
 Rom. That is a truth much fabled, never found. 
 You secret, when your dresses blab your vanities? 
 Carnation for your points ? there's a gross babbler; 
 Tawney ? hey ho ! the pretty heart is wounded. 
 A knot of willow ribbons? she's forsaken. 
 Another rides the cock-horse, green and azure, 
 Wince and cry wee-hee, Wkt a colt unbroken :
 
 179 THE FANCIES, ACT III. 
 
 But desperate black puts them in mind of fish-days; 
 When Lent spurs on devotion, there's a famine : 
 Yet love and judgment may help all this pudder'. 
 Where are they ! not in females ? 
 
 Fio. In all sorts 
 
 Of men, no doubt. 
 
 Sii. Else they were sots to choose. 
 
 Clar. ,To swear and flatter, sometimes lie, for 
 profit. 
 
 Rom. Not so, forsooth. Should love and judg- 
 ment meet. 
 The old, the fool, the ugly, and deformed. 
 Could never be beloved : for example. 
 Behold these two, this madam and this shaver. 
 
 Mor. I do defy thee ; am 1 old or ugly I 
 
 Sec. Tricks, knacks, devices! Now it trouls about. 
 
 Rom. Troul let it, stripHng ; thou hast yet firm 
 footing. 
 And need'st not fear the cuckold's livery. 
 There's good philosophy for't: take this for comfort; 
 No horned beasts have teeth in either gums : 
 But thou art tooth' d on both sides, tho' she fail in't. 
 
 Mor. He is not jealous, sirrah. 
 
 Rom. That's his fortune. 
 
 Women indeed more jealous are than men ; 
 But men have more cause. 
 
 Spa. There he rubb'd your forehead, 
 
 'Twas a tough blow. 
 
 Sec. It smarts. 
 
 Mor. Pox on him! let him 
 
 Put's fingers into any gums of mine; 
 He shall find 1 have teeth about me, sound ones. 
 
 Sec. You are a scurvy fellow, and 1 am made a 
 
 ' Pudder."} This was the ancieut manner of spelling pother. 
 As in Beaumont and Fletcher's Scornful I^ady : 
 
 " llillen out wiili ihcir meat aai kept a pudder."
 
 SCENE III. CHASTE AND NOBLE. 175 
 
 cokes', an ass ; and this same filthy crone's a flirt. 
 [^Sings.^ Whoops do me no harm good woman. [Exit. 
 
 Spa. Now, now he*s in ; I must not leave him 
 so. [Exit, 
 
 Troy. Morosa, what means this ? 
 
 Mor. I know not, I ; 
 
 He pinched me, called me names, most filthy names. 
 Will ye part hence, sir! 1 will set ye packing. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Clar. You were indeed too broad, too violent. 
 
 Flo. Here's nothing meant but mirth. 
 
 Sil. The gentleman 
 
 Hath been a little pleasant. 
 
 Clar. Somewhat bitter 
 
 Against our sex. 
 
 Cast. For which I promise him, 
 
 He ne'er proves choice of mine. 
 
 Rom. Not I your choice ? 
 
 Troj/. So she protested, signior. 
 
 Rom. Indeed ? 
 
 Enter Morosa. 
 
 Clar. Why, you are mov'd, sir. 
 
 Mor. Hence ! there enters 
 
 A civiller companion for fair ladies. 
 Than such a sloven. 
 
 Rom. Beauties, 
 
 Trot/. Time prevents us, 
 
 Love and sweet thoughts accompany this presence. 
 
 [Exeunt Troy, and Rom. 
 
 Enter Octavio, Secco, Livio, and Nitido. 
 
 Oct. f Whispering to Secco.^ Enough! slip off, 
 and on your life be secret. 
 
 * A cokes,"] i.e. ** A sot, gull, dolt, ass." Cotgrave in voce 
 Jobclin. The words, " Whoop me no harm good woman," ar 
 probably a scrap of an old song.
 
 174 THE FANCIES, ACT III. 
 
 A lovely day, young creatures. To you Floria ; 
 
 [^Exit Sec CO. 
 To you Clarella, Silvia, to all, service: 
 But who is this fair stranger? 
 
 Liv. Castamela, 
 
 My sister, noble lord. 
 
 Oct. Let ignorance 
 
 Of what you were plead my neglect of manners. 
 And this soft touch excuse it. You've enrich'd 
 This little family, most excellent virgin. 
 With th' honour of your company. 
 
 Cast. 1 find them 
 
 Worthily graceful, sir. 
 
 Liv. (_Apart.'\ Are ye so taken ? 
 
 Oct. Here are no public sights nor courtly visi- 
 tants. 
 Which youth and active blood might stray in 
 
 thought for : 
 The companies are few, the pleasures single, 
 And rarely to be brook'd, perhaps, by any, 
 Not perfectly acquainted with this custom : 
 Are they not, lovely one ? 
 
 Liv. Sir, I dare answer 
 
 My sister's resolution. Free converse 
 Amongst so many of her sex, so virtuous, 
 She ever hath preferr'd before the surquedry' 
 Of protestation, or the vainer giddiness 
 Of popular attendants. [Music. 
 
 Cast. Well play'd, brother. 
 
 Oct. The meaning of this music ? 
 
 Mor. Please your lordship, 
 
 It is the ladies* hour for exercise 
 In song and dance. 
 
 * Siirquedrt/.'] An old word from the French, used by Chau- 
 cer, for pride, oTcrweenitig conceit, presumption.
 
 SCENE III. CHASTE AND NOBLE. 174* 
 
 Oct. I dare not be the author 
 
 Of truanting the time then, neither will I. 
 Mor. Walk on, dear ladies. 
 Oct. 'Tis a task of pleasure. 
 
 Liv. (To Cast.^ Be now my sister, stand a trial 
 bravely. ^xeunt. 
 
 Mor. Remember my instructions, or [^Exit. 
 Oct. (Detaining Cast.^ With pardon, 
 
 You are not of the number, I presume, yet. 
 To be enjoined to hours. If you please, 
 We for a little while may sit as judges 
 Of their proficience ; pray, vouchsafe the favour. 
 
 Cast. I am, sir, in a place to be commanded, 
 As now the present urgeth. 
 
 Oct. No compulsion. 
 
 That were too hard a word. Where you are sove- 
 reign, 
 Your yea and nay is law. I have a suit t'ye. 
 Cast. For what, sir? 
 Oct. For your love. 
 
 Cast. To whom ? I am not 
 
 So weary of th' authority I hold 
 Over mine own contents ' in sleeps and wakings ; 
 That I'd resign my liberty to any 
 Who should controul it. 
 
 Oct. Neither I intend so; 
 
 Grant me an entertainment *. 
 
 Ca^t. Of what nature ? 
 
 Oct. To acknowledge me your creature. 
 Cast. Oh, my lord, 
 
 * Contents.~\ This word is used in the same sense in Shake- 
 speare's Troilus and Cressida : 
 
 " ^Though my lieart's content firm love doth bear 
 
 Notbing of that shall from mine eyes appear." 
 
 * Grant me an entertainmeut^l i. e. admit me in the number 
 of your serTants or loTcrs. To entertain soldiers Avas formerly 
 a phrase for enlisting them. .
 
 176 THE FANCIES, ACT III. 
 
 You are too wise in years, too full of counsel, 
 For my green inexperience. 
 
 Oct. Love, dear maid, 
 
 Is but desire of beauty, and 'tis proper 
 For beauty to desire to be belov*d. 
 I am not free from passion, though the current 
 Of a more lively heat runs slowly through me ; 
 My heart is gentle, and believe, fresh girl, 
 Thou shalt not wish for any full addition, 
 Which may adorn thy rarities to boast 'em, 
 That bounty can withhold : this academy 
 Of silent pleasures is maintained, but only 
 To such a constant use. 
 
 Cast. You have belike then 
 
 A patent for concealing virgins ; otherwise 
 Make plainer your intentions. 
 
 Oct. To be pleasant 
 
 In practice of some outward senses only ; 
 No more. 
 
 Cast. No, worse you dare not to imagine, 
 Where such an awful innocency, as mine is. 
 Out-faces every wickedness, your dotage 
 Has luH'd you in. I scent your cruel mercies. 
 Your fact'ress hath been tamp'ring for my misery ; 
 Your old temptation ; your she-devil. Bear with 
 A language which this place, and none but this, 
 
 hath 
 Infected my tongue with. The time will come, too, 
 When he (unhappy man !) whom your advance- 
 ment. 
 Hath ruin*d by being spaniel to your fortunes. 
 Will curse he trained me hither. Livio, 
 1 must not call him brother, this one act 
 Hath rent him off the ancestry he sprung from. 
 
 Oct. The proffer of a noble courtesy 
 Is check'd it seems. 
 
 Cast. A courtesy ? a bondage :
 
 SCENE II. CHASTE AND NOBLE. 177 
 
 You are a great man vicious, much more vicious. 
 Because you hold a seeming league with charity 
 Of pestilent nature, keeping hospitality 
 For sensualists in your own sepulchre, 
 Even by your life-time ; yet are dead ah'eady. 
 
 Oct. How's this \ come, be more mild. 
 
 Cast. You chide me soberly. 
 
 Then, sir, I tune my voice to other music ; 
 You are an eminent statist ', be a father 
 To such unfriended virgins, as your bounty 
 Hath drawn into a scandal ; you are powerful 
 In means ; a bachelor, freed from the jealousies 
 Of wants : convert this privacy of maintenance 
 Into your own court : let this, as you call it. 
 Your academy, have a residence there ; 
 And there survey your charity yourself: 
 That when you shall bestow on worthy husbands 
 With fitting portions, such as you know worthy^ 
 You may yield to the present age example. 
 And to posterity a glorious chronicle; 
 There were a work of piety: the other is 
 A scorn upon your tombstone; where the reader 
 Will but expound, that when you liv'd you pan- 
 der' d 
 Your own purse and your fame. I am too bold, sir, 
 Some anger and some pity hath directed 
 A wand' ring trouble. 
 
 Oct. He not known what passages 
 
 The time hath lent, for once I can bear with you. 
 
 Cast. rU countenance the hazard of suspicion, 
 And be your guest a while. 
 
 Oct. Be but hereafter 
 
 1 know not what. Livio ! 
 
 ^ Statist,'] An ancient term for a statesman. So in Marmion' 
 Antiquary : " Is it [your behaviour] adorned with that even 
 mixture of fluency and grace, as are required both in a statist 
 and a courtier ?" 
 
 VOL. II. M
 
 178 THE FANCIES, ACT IV. 
 
 Enter Livio and Morosa. 
 
 Liv. My lord ? 
 
 Cast. indeed, sir, 
 
 I cannot part wi* ye yet. 
 
 Oct. Well, then, thou shalt not. 
 
 My precious Castamela. Thou hast a sister, 
 A perfect sister, Livio. 
 
 J[Jor. All is link'd here * : 
 
 Good soul, indeed ! 
 
 Liu. rd speak with you anon. 
 
 Cast. It may be so. 
 
 Oct. Come, fair one. 
 
 Liv. Oh, 1 am cheated ! 
 
 [^Exeunt. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SCENE I. y^n Apartment in the same. 
 
 Enter Livio and Castamela. 
 
 Liv. Pr'ythee, be serious. 
 
 Cast. Pr'ythee, interrupt not 
 
 The paradise of my becharnnng thoughts. 
 Which mount my knowledge to the sphere i move 
 
 in, 
 Above this useless tattle. 
 
 Liv. Tattle, sister ? 
 
 D*ye know to whom you talk this? 
 
 ( usi. To the gentleman 
 
 Ol my lord's horse, new-stept into the olhce : 
 'Tis a good place, sir, if you can be thanktul. 
 
 ' AU is iock'd Aere.] So the old copy reads.
 
 SCENE I. CHASTE A*ND NOBLE. 179 
 
 Demean your carriage' in it so, that negligence, 
 Or pride of your preferment, oversway not 
 The grace you hold in his esteem. Such fortunes 
 Drop not down every day; observe the favour 
 That rais'd you to this fortune. 
 
 Liv. Thou mistak'st sure 
 
 What person thou hold'st speech with. 
 
 Cast. Strange and idle. 
 
 Liu. Is't possible ? why, you are turned a mis- 
 tress, 
 A mistress of the trim*: beshrew me, lady, 
 You keep a stately port ; but it becomes you not. 
 Our father's daughter, if 1 err not rarely. 
 Delighted in a softer, humbler sweetness ; 
 Not in a hey-de-gay' of scurvy gallantry. 
 You do not brave it like a thing o' th' fashion ; 
 You ape the humour faintly. 
 
 Cast. " Love, dear maid. 
 
 Is but desire of beauty, and 'tis proper 
 For beauty, to desire to be belov'd." 
 
 Liv. Fine sport ! You mind not me; will you 
 yet hear me, madam ! 
 
 Cast. " Thou shalt not wish for any full addition. 
 Which may adorn thy rarities to boast them, 
 That bounty can withhold." I know 1 shall not. 
 
 Liv. And so you clapt the bargain ; the conceit 
 on't 
 Tickles your contemplation. *Tis come out now : 
 
 * Carriage^ i. c. behaviour, conduct. 
 
 ^ A mistress of the trim.'] A female coxcomb of easy virtue. 
 So in the Lover's Melancholy : 
 
 " Not like a Imly of the trim, new crept 
 Out of the shell ot'shittisli sweat ami labour, 
 Into the glittering pomp of ease and wantonness." 
 
 ^ Ilei/.dC'gajj.'] A curious word, probably varied by our au- 
 thor from hey-day, which he uses in 'Tis Pity She's a Whore, for 
 height, extremity. See Vol. I. p. 77.
 
 180 THE FANCIES, ACT IV. 
 
 A woman's tongue, 1 see, some time or other. 
 Will prove her traitor. This was all I silted, 
 And here have found thee wretched. 
 
 Cast. We shall flourish. 
 
 Feed high henceforth, man, and no more be strait- 
 ened 
 Within the limits of an empty patience ; 
 Nor tire our feeble eyes with gazing only 
 On greatness, which enjoys the swing of pleasures: 
 But be ourselves the object of their envy, 
 To whom a service would have seem'd ambition. 
 It was thy cunning, Livio ; I applaud it : 
 Fear nothing ; Til be thrifty in thy projects. 
 Want] misery ? May all such want as think on'tl 
 Our footing shall be firm. 
 
 Liv. You are much witty. 
 
 Why, Castamela, this to me? You counterfeit 
 Most palpably. I am too well acquainted 
 With thy condition, sister. If the marquis 
 Hath utter'd one unchaste, one wanton syllable. 
 Provoking thy contempt ; not all the flatteries 
 Of his assurance to our hopes of rising 
 Can, or shall, slave our souls. 
 
 Cast. Indeed not so, sir ; 
 
 Y'ou are beside the point, most gentle signor : 
 rU be no more your ward, no longer chambered, 
 Nor mewed' up to the lure of your devotion ; 
 Trust me, 1 must not, will not, dare not ; surely 
 I cannot, for my promise past, and sufferance 
 Of former trials hath too strongly arm'd me : 
 You may take this for answer. 
 
 * Nor mewed up to the lure of your devotion."] A metaphor 
 taken from hawking. The mew is the place of confinement for 
 hawks. The lure was fabricated of leather and feather, which, 
 when cast up, bore some resemblance to a bird. The young 
 hawks are trained and fed upon this machine, and so much ac- 
 customed to the lure, as not to forsake it.
 
 SCENE 1. CHASTE AND NOBLE. 181 
 
 Liv, In such earnest ? 
 
 Hath goodness left thee quite ? Fool, thou art 
 
 wand'ring 
 In dangerous fogs, which will corrupt the purity 
 Of every noble virtue dwelt within thee. 
 Come home again, home, Castamela, sister, 
 Home to thine own simplicity ; and rather 
 Than yield thy memory up to the witchcraft 
 Of an abused confideuce, be courted 
 For Homanello. 
 
 Cast. Roman ello ! 
 
 Liv. Scorn*st thou 
 
 The name? thy thoughts 1 find, then, are changed, 
 
 rebels 
 To all that's honest ; that's to truth and honour. 
 
 Cast. So, sir, and in good time. 
 
 Liv. Thou art fallen suddenly 
 
 Into a plurisy ' of faithless impudence ; 
 A whorish itch infects thy blood, a leprosy 
 Of raging lust ; and thou art mad to prostitute 
 The glory of thy virgin-dower basely 
 For common sale. This foulness must be purged, 
 Or thy disease will rankle to a pestilence. 
 Which can even taint the very air about thee : 
 But I shall study physic. 
 
 Cast. Learn good manners : 
 
 I take it you are saucy. 
 
 Liv. Saucy ? Strumpet 
 
 In thy desires ! 'tis in my pow'r to cut off 
 The twist thy life is spun by. 
 
 Cast. Phew ! you rave now : 
 
 * P/rt5fy,3 i. e. superabundance. The word must not be con- 
 founded with the disease called pleurisy, though) in some pas- 
 sages in old plays, a quibble between the two seems to be in- 
 tended.
 
 182 THE FANCIES, ACT IV. 
 
 But if you have not perish'd ' all your reason, 
 Know I will use mv freedom. You, forsooth, 
 ror change of fresh apparel, and the pocketting 
 Of some well-looking ducats, were contented, 
 Passingly pleased yes, marry were vou ; mark 
 
 it, 
 T* expose me to the danger now you rail at. 
 Brought me, nay forced me, hither, without ques- 
 tion 
 Of what might follow : here you find the issue; 
 And 1 distrust not but it was th* appointment 
 Of some succeeding fiate that more concern'd me 
 Than widowed virginity. 
 
 Liv. You are a gallant ; 
 
 One of my old lord's fancies. Peevish girl*, 
 Was't ever heard that youth could doat on sick- 
 ness, 
 A grey beard, wrinkled face, a dried-up marrow, 
 A toothless head, a ? This is but a merriment, 
 Merely but trial. Ilomanrllo loves thee, 
 Has not abundance, true ; j^et cannot want. 
 Return with me, and I will leave these fortunes, 
 Good maid, of gentle nature. 
 
 Cast. By my hopes, 
 
 I never placed affection on thnt gentleman, 
 Tho' he deserv'd well ; 1 have told him often 
 My resolution. 
 
 Liv. Will you hence, and trust to 
 
 My care of settling you a peace? 
 
 ' Perished.'] It has been before observed in the notes to this 
 play, that this verb is often nscd actively for dcxtrotfin^. 
 
 ' Vecvish^~\ t. e. foolish. 'J iiis passage supports Mr Clifford's 
 dissent from the opinion of Malone, that peevish in the following 
 speech of Mrs Qnitkly, in the Merry Wives of Windsor, is one 
 of the dame's blunders, iot precise : *' His Morst fault is, that he 
 15 given to prayer ; he is something peevifh that way."
 
 SCENE I. CHASTE AND NOBLE. 183 
 
 Cast. No, surely, 
 
 Such treaty may break off. 
 
 Liv. Off be it broken ; 
 
 I'll do what thou shalt rue. 
 
 Cast. You cannot, Livio. 
 
 Liv. So confident ? Young mistress mine. Til 
 do*t. [Exit. 
 
 Enter Troylo. 
 
 Troy, Incomparable maid ! 
 
 Cast. You have been counsellor 
 
 To a strange dialogue. 
 
 Troy. If there be constancy 
 
 In protestation of a virtuous nature. 
 You are secure, as the effects shall witness. 
 
 Cast. Be noble : I am credulous ; my language 
 Hath prejudiced my heart. I and my brother 
 Ne'er parted at such distance : yet, 1 glory 
 In the fair race he runs; but fear the violence 
 Of his disorder. 
 
 Troy. Little time shall quit him. 
 
 [They retire. 
 
 Enter Secco, leading Nitido in a garter with one 
 handy a rod in his other ; followed by Morosa, 
 Silvia, Floria, Clauella; Spadone be- 
 hind, laughing. 
 
 Sec. The young whelp is mad ; I must slice the 
 worm out of his breech'. I have noosed his neck 
 in the collar; and 1 will once turn dog- leech. 
 
 * Tlie young whelp is mad ; I must slice the worm out of his 
 breech.^ An allusion to the vulgar error, which obtains e?oa 
 at this day, that a young dog may be prevented from running 
 mad, by cutting away from under his tongue what is called the 
 Worm. Dog-leech, in this speech, is the same as djg.doctor, 
 and has already occurred in the Lover's Melancbolyi Vol. I. p. 
 186.
 
 184 THE FANCIES, ACT IV. 
 
 Stand from about me, or you'll find me terrible and 
 furious. 
 
 Nit. Ladies! Good ladies! Dear madam, Mo- 
 rosa ! 
 
 Flo. Honest Secco ! 
 
 Sil. AVhat was the cause? What has he done to 
 thee? 
 
 Clar. Why dost thou fright us so, and art so pe- 
 remptory 
 Where we are present, fellow ? 
 
 31or. Honey bird, spouse, cat-a-mountain ! Ah, 
 the child, the pretty poor child, the sweet-faced 
 child! 
 
 Spa. That very word halters the earwig. 
 
 Sec. Off 1 say, or I shall lay bare all the naked 
 truth to your faces ! His fore-parts have been so 
 lusty, and his posteriors must do penance for't. 
 Untruss, whiskin', untruss! Away, burs! Out 
 mare-hag, moyi ! Avaunt ! thy turn comes next. 
 Avaunt! thy turn comes next. Avaunt! the horns 
 of my rage are advanced. Hence, or 1 shall gore 
 
 Spa. Lash him soundly ; let the little ape show 
 tricks. 
 
 Nit. Help, or I shall be throttled ! 
 
 Mor, Ye9 1 will help thee, pretty heart! If my 
 tongue cannot prevail, my nails shall. Barbarous- 
 minded man, let go, or 1 shall use my talons. 
 
 [Tlieij fight. 
 
 Spa. Well played dog! Well played bear ! Sa, 
 sa, sa ; to't, to't. 
 
 Sec. Fury, whore, bawd ! My wife and the devil 1 
 
 Mor. Toss-pot', stinkard, pander, my husband, 
 and a rascal ! 
 
 * Whiskin.~\ See p. 131. of this play. 
 
 * Tosn.pot.] This was a usual term for a druHkard, in our 
 author's days. The etymology is very obvious.
 
 SCENE 1. CHASTE AND NOBLE. 185 
 
 Spa. Scold, coxcomb, baggage, cuckold ! 
 
 Crabbed age and youth ' 
 
 Cannot jump together ; 
 One is like good luck, 
 
 Toother like foul weather. 
 
 Troy. ( Comes forward. J Let u fall in now. 
 What uncivil rudeness 
 Dares offer a disturbance to this company ? 
 Peace and delights dwell here, not brawls and out- 
 rage. 
 Sirrah, be sure you show some reasons why 
 You so forgot your duty : quickly show it. 
 Or I shall tame your choler. What's the ground 
 on't \ 
 
 Spa. Humph, how's that ! How's that ? is he 
 there with a wannion*] Then do I begin to 
 <lwindle. ^Oh, oh, the fit! the fit ! the fit's upon 
 me now, now, now, now ! 
 
 Sec. It shall out. First then, know all Christian 
 people, Jews, and infidels, hes and shes, by these 
 presents, that I am a beast ; see what I say, I say 
 a very beast. 
 
 Troy. ' Tis granted. 
 
 Sec. Go to, then ; a horned beast ; a goodly, tall, 
 
 ^ Crabbed age and youth^ <Src.] These four lines are bur- 
 lesqued, evidently without any intention of sneering at the match- 
 less poet, from a ditty of Shakespeare's, in the Passionate Pil- 
 grim, beginning thus : 
 
 " Crabbed ajre and youlli 
 Ginnot live tosiether ; 
 Youth is full of pleasauce, 
 Age is full of care : 
 Youth like summer morn. 
 Age like winter weather," &c. 
 
 Jump, in the second line, is tlie same as agree, as has been ob. 
 scrred before. 
 
 * IVith a zcannion.~\ A common phrase in old writings ; but 
 the particular meaning of the last word has never been inxplained
 
 186 THE FANCIES, ACT IV. 
 
 honi'd beast ; in pure verity, a cuckold. Nay, I 
 will tickle their trangdidos. 
 
 Mor. Ah, thou base fellow !^ Would'st thou 
 confess it an it were sol but *tis not so; and thou 
 liest, and loudly. 
 
 Troy. Patience, Morosa ! You are, you say, a 
 cuckold ? 
 
 Sec. V\\ justify my words ; I scorn to eat them. 
 This sucking ferret hath been wrigling in my old 
 coney-burrow. 
 
 Mor. The boy, the babe, the infant ! I spit at 
 thee. 
 
 Cast. Pie, Secco, fie. 
 
 .See. Appear, Spadone ! My proofs are preg- 
 nant' and gross: truth is the truth : 1 must and I 
 will be divorced. Speak, Spadone, and exalt thy 
 voice. 
 
 Spa. Who? I speak? Alas, I cannot speak ! I! 
 
 Nit. As I hope to live to be a man 
 
 Sec. Damn the prick of thy weason-pipe * ! 
 Where but two lie in a bed, you must be bodkin, 
 bitch-baby must ye \ Spadone, am I a cuckold, 
 or no cuckold ? 
 
 Spa. Why, you know I [am] an ignorant, unable 
 triHc in such business ; an oaf, a simple alcatote, 
 an innocent '. 
 
 Sec. Nay, nay, nay, no matter for that: this 
 ramkin hath tupp'd my old rotten carrion-mutton. 
 
 Mor. Rotten in thy maw, thy guts and garbage! 
 
 * Pregnant,'] i. c. full of weight, of raaftcr, 
 
 * li rason-pipe.^ Tlio wcasori is the gullet, and wcason-pip 
 is used ill (he same maiinpr as windpipe. 
 
 ^ A simple alcafotf, an innocent.] The latter of these terms 
 has been alriady explained to mean a fool. With the fonner I 
 hare never met l>cfre, but susj.ect tliat it is the sauic with, or a 
 corruption from atcatraz^ which is a Spanish and Portugucze 
 term for a species of sea-fowl, similar to a sca-gall.
 
 SCENE I. CHASTE AND NOBLE. 187 
 
 Sec. Spadone, speak aloud what I am. 
 
 Spa. 1 do not know. 
 
 Sec. What hast thou seen them doing together? 
 doing ! 
 
 Spa. Nothing. 
 
 3Ior. Are tliy mad brains in thy mazer' now, 
 thou jealous bedlam ? 
 
 Sec. Didst not thou, from time to time, tell me as 
 much? 
 
 Spa. Never. 
 
 Sec. Hoy-day ! Ladies and signor, 1 am abu* 
 sed ; they are agreed to scorn, jeer, and run me out 
 of my wits. By consent, this gelded hobet-a-hoy 
 is a corrupted pandar, this page a milk-livered dil- 
 doe, my wife a whore conlessed, and I myself a 
 cuckold arrant. 
 
 Spa. Truly, Secco, for the ancient good woman 
 I dare swear point-blank ; and the boy, surely, I 
 ever said, was to any man's thinking, a very chri- 
 some * in the thing you wot. That's my opinion 
 clearly. 
 
 (Jar. What a wise goose-cap hast thou showed 
 thyself! 
 
 Sec. Here in my forehead it sticks, and stick it 
 shall. Law 1 will have; I will never more tumble 
 
 * Mazer.'] A word which is still used occasionally for the 
 face. It occurs in [)ekker's Honest Whore : " Break but his 
 pafe or so, only his mazer^ because Til have his head in a cloth 
 as well as mine." 
 
 * A verif chrisome.] This term, which occurs in Shake- 
 speare's King Henry V. has given occasion to a great number of 
 notes by the <liB'erent annotators, but never received a complete 
 ilhistration till the a^jpearance of Mr Douce's I lustratiois, to 
 which thi- rt-ader is relerred. It may, however, be observed here, 
 that c/i' /\o/;/t' was ori;iinalIy the white cloth in which childrea 
 were iiaptized, and Ciime eventually to be used as a mock>tcrm 
 for a child, as in (he text. So in Middleton's Yo ir Five G.il- 
 lants : " It would kill his heart i' faith ; he'd away like a chry- 
 som."
 
 18S THE FANCIES, ACT IV. 
 
 in sheets with thee ; I will father no misbegotten 
 of thine : the court shall trounce thee, the city 
 cashier thee, diseases devour thee, and the spittal 
 confound thee. [^Exit, 
 
 Cast. The man has dreamed himself into a lu- 
 nacy. 
 
 Sil. Alas, poor Nitido ! 
 
 Nit, Truly, 1 am innocent. 
 
 AJor, Marry art thou ; so thou art. The world 
 says, how virtuously I have carried my good name 
 in every part about me these threescore years and 
 odd ; and at last to slip with a child ! There are 
 men, men enough, tough and lusty, I hope, if one 
 would give their mind to the iniquity of the flesh ; 
 but this is the life 1 ha' led with him a while; since 
 when a' lies by me as cold as a dry stone. 
 
 Tro^. This only, ladies, is a fit of novelty ; 
 All will be reconciled. 1 doubt, Spadone, 
 Here is your hand in this, howe'er denied. 
 
 Spa. Faithfully, in truth, forsooth 
 
 Trot/. Well, well enough. Morosa, be less trou- 
 bled ; 
 This little jarr is argument of love ; 
 It will prove lasting. Beauties, 1 attend ye. 
 
 [^Exeunt all but Spa. and Nit. 
 
 Spa. Youngling! a word, youngling: have not- 
 you 'scaped the lash handsomely? Thank me for*t. 
 
 Nit. 1 fear thy roguery, and 1 shall find it. 
 
 Spa. Is't possible? Give me thy little fist; we 
 are friends. Have a care henceforth ; remember 
 this whilst you live: 
 
 And still the urchin icouldy hut could not do. 
 
 Pretty knave, and so forth. Come, truce on all 
 hands. 
 
 Nit. Bcshrew your fool's head ; this was jest in 
 earnest. [^Exeunt.
 
 SCENE II. CHASTE AKD NOBLE. 189 
 
 SCENE II. RoMANELLo'j? Lodgings, 
 
 Enter Romanello. 
 
 Rom, I will converse with beasts: there is in 
 mankind 
 No sound society, but in woman ^bless me ! 
 Nor faith nor reason. I may justly wonder 
 What trust was in my mother. 
 
 Enter Servant. 
 
 Serv. A caroche, sir, 
 
 Stands at the gate. 
 
 Horn. Stand let it still, and freeze there. 
 
 Make sure the locks. 
 
 Serv. Too late ; you are prevented. 
 
 Enter Flavia, with Camillo and Vespucci, 
 who walk apart. 
 
 Flav. Brother, I come 
 
 Rom. Unlook'd-for ; I but sojourn 
 
 Myself; I keep nor house nor entertainments 
 French cooks compos'd', Italian collations. 
 Rich Persian surfeits, with a train of services, 
 Befitting exquisite ladies, such as you are, 
 Perfume not our low roofs. The way lies open ; 
 That there. [Points to the door.'] Good day, great 
 madam. 
 
 Flav. Why d'ye slight me X 
 
 For what one act of mine, even from my childhood. 
 Which may deliver my deserts inferior, 
 Or to our births or family ; is nature 
 Become, in your contempt of me, a monster? 
 
 ^ Entertainments French cooks composed^ i. e. zshich were 
 composed by French cooks. The omission readers the sentence 
 very harsh.
 
 190 THE FANCIES, ACT IV. 
 
 Ves. What's this, Camillo ? 
 
 Cam. Not the strain in ordinary'. 
 
 Iio?n. Vm out of tune to chop discourses. How- 
 ever, 
 You are a woman. 
 
 F/au. Pensive and unfortunate, 
 
 Wanting a brother's bosom to disburthen 
 More griefs than female weakness can keep league 
 
 with. 
 Let worst of malice, voiced in loud report, 
 Spit what it dares invent against my actions; 
 And it shall never find a power to blemish 
 ]Vly mention, other than beseems a patient* : 
 I not repine at lowness ; and the fortunes 
 Which I attend on now, are, as 1 value them. 
 No new creation to a looser liberty. 
 Your strangeness only may beget a change 
 In wild opinion. 
 
 Cam. Here's another tang * 
 
 Of sense, Vespucci. 
 
 Ves. Listen, and observe. 
 
 Rom. Are not you, pray ye nay, we'll be con- 
 tented. 
 In presence of your ushers, once to prattle 
 Some idle minutes are you not entlironed 
 The lady-regent, by whose special influence 
 Julio, the count of Camerine is ordered? 
 
 Fiav. His wite 'lis known I am ; and in that 
 title 
 
 ' Not the strain in ordinary.'] The word occurs In a similar 
 manner in the Merry Wives of Windsor, where Mrs Page says : 
 *' Unless he know some strain in me, that 1 know not myself, 
 he would never have boarded me in this fury." 
 
 * A patient.^ Probably patient was used by the author in 
 this place fr a patient, obedient wife; certainly the expression 
 is a very strange one, and perhaps a whole line has been lost. 
 
 2 Tang.l \\ e still use the colloquLil word iKavg in the seme 
 which the text seems to require.
 
 SCENE II. CHASTE AND NOBLE. 191 
 
 Obedient to a sen'ice ; else, of greatness 
 The quiet of ray wish was ne'er ambitious. 
 
 Rom. He loves you ? 
 
 Flav. As worthily as dearly. 
 
 Rom. And *tis believed how practice quickly 
 fashioned 
 A port of humorous antickness in carriage. 
 Discourse, demeanour, gestures. 
 
 Cam. Put home roundly. 
 
 Ves. A ward for that blow. 
 
 Flav, J5atety of mine honour 
 
 Instructed such deceit. 
 
 Rom. Your honour? 
 
 Flav. Witness 
 
 This brace of sprightly gallants, whose confederacy 
 Presumed to plot a siege. > 
 
 Cam. Ves. We, madam ! 
 
 Rom. On, on ; 
 
 Some leisure serves us now. 
 
 Flav. Still as lord Julio 
 
 Pursued his contract with the man oh, pardon. 
 If 1 presume to name him ! by whose poverty 
 Of honest truth, 1 was renounced in marriage; 
 These two, entrusted tor a secret courtship, 
 By tokens, letters, message, in their turns, 
 Proft'er'd their own devotions as they term'd them. 
 Almost unto an impudence ; regardless 
 Of him, on whose supportance they relied. 
 
 Rom. Dare not for both your lives to interrupt 
 her. 
 
 Flav. Baited thus to vexation, I assum'd 
 A dulness of simplicity ; till afterwards 
 Lost to uiy city-freedom, and now entered 
 Into this present state of my condition, 
 (Concluding henceforth absolute security 
 From their lascivious villanies) I continued 
 My former custom of ridiculous lightness,
 
 192 THE FANCIES, ACT. IV. 
 
 As they did their pursuit. T' acquaint my lord, 
 
 u ere 
 To have ruin'd their best certainty of living : 
 But that might yield suspicion in my nature ; 
 And women may be virtuous, without mischief 
 To such as tempt them. 
 
 Rom. You are much to blame, sirs, 
 
 Should all be truth is utter'd. 
 
 Flav. For that justice 
 
 I did command them hither; for a privacy 
 In conference 'twixt Fiavia and her brother 
 Needed no secretaries such as these are. 
 Now, Romanello, thou art every refuge 
 I fly for right to ; if 1 be thy sister, 
 And not a bastard, answer their confession. 
 Or threaten vengeance, with perpetual silence. 
 
 Cam. My follies are acknowledged. You*re a 
 lady 
 Who have outdone example. When 1 trespass 
 In ought but duty and respects of service. 
 May hopes of joys forsake me. 
 
 Ves. To like penance 
 
 I join a constant votary. 
 
 Rom. reace, then, 
 
 Is ratified. My sister, thou hast wakened 
 Intranc'd affection from its sleep to knowledge 
 Of once more who thou art ; no jealous frenzy 
 Shall hazard a distrust: reign in thy sweetness. 
 Thou only worthy woman. These two converts 
 Record our hearty union ; I have shook off 
 My thraldom, lady, and have made discoveries 
 Of famous novels'; but of those hereafter. 
 Thus we seal love ; you shall know all and won- 
 der. 
 
 * Novels.'] Cotgravc explains nouvelle, " a norell, news, tid- 
 ings, an unexpc-ctetl message, a strange report^ a discourse, or 
 taJc, auheard of before."
 
 SCENE II. CHASTE AND NOBLE. 193 
 
 Enter Livio. 
 
 Liv. Health and his heart's desire to Romanello! 
 My welcome 1 bring with me. Noblest lady, 
 Excuse an ignorance of your fair presence ; 
 This may be bold intrusion. 
 
 Flav. Not by me, sir. 
 
 Rom, You are not frequent here', as I remem- 
 ber; 
 But since you bring your welcome with you, Livio, 
 Be bold to use it : to the point. 
 
 Liv. This lady, 
 
 With both these gentlemen, in happy hour 
 May be partakers of the long-liv'd amity, 
 Our souls must link in. 
 
 Rom. So, belike the marquis 
 
 Stores some new grace, some special close employ- 
 ment. 
 For whom your kind commends by deputation 
 Please think on to oblige, and Livio's charity 
 Descends on Romanello liberally, 
 Above my means to thank. 
 
 Liv. Sienna sometimes 
 
 Has been informed how gladly there did pass 
 A treaty of chaste loves with Castamela ; 
 From this good heart, it was in me an error 
 Wilful and causeless, 'tis contest, that hindered 
 Such honourable prosecution, 
 Even and equal ; better thoughts consider, 
 How much I wrong'd the gentle course which led 
 
 ye 
 
 To vows of true affection, us of friendship. 
 
 Rom. [^Aside.l Sits the wind there, boy ? Leav- 
 ing formal circumstance, 
 Proceed ; you dally yet. 
 
 ' You are not frequent here^ i. e. " you do not so often fre- 
 quent the house ;" a common use of the word in old writings. 
 VOL. II, N
 
 194: THE FANCIES, ACT IV. 
 
 Lit'. Then, without plea, 
 
 For countenancing what has been injurious 
 On my part, I am come to tender really 
 My sister a lovM wife t' ye ; freely take her. 
 Right honest man, and as ye live together, 
 May your increase of years prove but one spring, 
 One lasting nourishing youlli ! She is vour own ; 
 My hands shall perfect what's required to cere- 
 mony. 
 Flav. Brother, this day was meant a holiday, 
 For least on every side. 
 
 Rom. The new-turn*d courtier 
 
 Proffers most frankly ; but withal leaves out 
 A due consideration of the narrowness 
 Our short estate is bounded in. Some politics 
 As they rise up, like Livio, to perfection, 
 In their own competencies, gather also 
 Grave supplement of providence and wisdom : 
 Yet he abates in this. \ou use a triumph 
 In your advantages; it smells of state : 
 We know you are no tool. 
 
 Flav. 'Sooth, I believe him. 
 
 Cmn. Else 'twere imposture. 
 Ves. Folly, rank and senseless. 
 
 Liu. Enjoin an oath at larye. 
 horn. Since you mean earnest. 
 
 Receive in satisfaction ; I'm resolv'd 
 For single lile. 1 ht re was a time, kos, Livio, 
 When indisrreticin blinded forecast in me ; 
 But recollection, with your rules of thriftiness. 
 Prevail'd against all passion. 
 
 Liv. \'ou'd be courted : 
 
 Courtship's the child of coyness, Komanello, 
 And for the rules, 'tis possible to name them. 
 
 Rom. " A single lile's no burthen ; but to draw 
 In yokes is chargeable, and doth require 
 A double maintenance :" Livio's very words ;
 
 SCENE II. CHASTE AND NOBLE. 19^ 
 
 For he can live without a wife and purchase ' : 
 By'r lady so you do, sir; send you joy on*t ; 
 These rules you see are possible, and answered. 
 
 Liv. Full answer was late made to this already; 
 My sister's only thine. 
 
 Rom. Where lives the creature 
 
 Your pity stoops to pin upon your servant? 
 Not in a nunn'ry for a year's probation? 
 Fie on such coldness ! There are Bowers of Fancies, 
 Ravish'd from troops of fairy nymphs, and virgins, 
 Cuird from the downy breasts of queens their mo- 
 thers, 
 In the Titanian empire, far from mortals. 
 But these are tales; 'troth, I have quite abandoned 
 All loving humour. 
 
 Liv, Here is scorn in riddles. 
 
 Rom. Were there another marquis in Sienna, 
 More potent than the same who is vicegerent 
 To the great duke of Florence, our grand master ; 
 Were the great duke himself here, and would lift up 
 My head to fellow-pomp amongst his nobles, 
 By falsehood to the honour of a sister, 
 Urging me instrument in his seraglio* 
 I'd tear the wardrobe of an outside from him, 
 Rather than live a pandar to his bribery. 
 
 Liv. So would the he you talk to, Romanello, 
 Without a noise that's singular*. 
 
 Rom. She's a countess, 
 
 Flavia, she ; but she has an earl her husband, 
 Tho* far from our procurement. 
 
 * Purchase.'\ This word is here evidently used for inheri. 
 tance, estate, property. 
 
 * Without a noise thaVs singular'] It is difficult to conceive 
 what our author meaut by this strange phrase. The only con- 
 jecture 1 can form is " With no common noise or uproar,"
 
 196 THE FANCIES, ACT IT. 
 
 Liv. Castamela 
 
 Is retus'd then. 
 
 Horn. Never design'd my choice ; 
 
 You know, and 1 know, Livio, more, 1 tell thee, 
 A noble honesty ought to give allowance, 
 When reason intercedes: by all that's manly, 
 I range not in derision, but compassion. 
 
 Liv. Intelligence flies swiftly. 
 R m. Pretty swiftly; 
 
 We have compar'd the copy with th* original. 
 And find no disagreement. 
 
 Liv. So my sister 
 
 Can be no wife for Romanello ! 
 
 Bom. No, no, 
 
 One no, once more and ever. This your courtesy 
 Foil'd me a second'. Sir, you brought a welcome; 
 You must not part without it ; scan with pity 
 My plainness ; I intend nor gall nor quarrel. 
 
 Liu. Far be't from me to press a blame, great 
 lady ; 
 I kiss your noble hands ; and to these gentlemen 
 Present a civil parting. Romanello, 
 By the next foot-post thou wilt hear some news 
 Of alteration : if I send, come to me. 
 
 Rom. Questionless, yea. 
 
 Liv. My thanks may quit* the favour. 
 
 {Exit. 
 
 Flav. Brother, his intercourse of conference, 
 Appears at once perplex'd, but withal sensible. 
 
 Rom. Doubts easily resolv'd : upon your virtues 
 The whole foundation of my peace is grounded. 
 
 ' This j/our coiirtesif 
 
 Foil'd me a secoml^'] i. e. The nature of your courtesy has 
 prercntcU mc from ofiering another act of courtesy to you, by 
 accepting your'j. 
 
 * Quit,} Quito, requite.
 
 SCENE II. CHASTE AND NOBLE. 197 
 
 I'll guard you to your home. Lost in one comfort, 
 Here 1 have found another. 
 
 Flav. Goodness prosper it. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 SCKNE I. An Apartment in the Palace, 
 
 Enter Octavio, Troylo, Secco^ and Nitido. 
 
 Oct. No more of these complaints and clamours ! 
 Have we 
 Nor enemies abroad, nor waking sycophants, 
 Who, peering thro' our actions, wait occasion 
 By which they watch to lay advantage open 
 To vulgar descant ; but amongst ourselves. 
 Some, whom we call our own, must practise scan- 
 dal 
 (Out of a liberty of ease and fulness) 
 Against our honour ? We shall quickly order 
 Strange retbrmation, sirs, and you will find it. 
 Troy, When servants' servants, slaves, once re- 
 lish license 
 Of good opinion from a noble nature, 
 They take upon them boldness to abuse 
 Such interest, and lord it o'er their fellows, 
 As if they were exempt from that condition. 
 Oct. He is unfit to manage public matters. 
 Who knows not how to rule at home his household. 
 You must be jealous, puppy, of a boy t(>o ; 
 Raise uproars, bandy' noise, amongst young mai- 
 dens; 
 
 ' Bandy.'\ A common expression in old plays, taken from 
 tennis. For instance, in Marlow's Ed\iard II. :
 
 198 THE FANCIES, ACT V. 
 
 Keep revels in your madness, use authority 
 Of giving punishment ; a fool must fool ye; 
 And this all but pastime, as you think it? 
 
 Nil. With your good lordship's favour, since, 
 Spadone 
 Confess'd it was a guUery put on Secco, 
 For some revenge meant me. 
 
 Troi/. He vow*d it truth 
 
 Before the ladies in my hearing. 
 
 Oct. Sirrah, 
 
 I'll turn you to your shop again and trinkets. 
 Your suds and pan of small-coal: take your damsel, 
 The grand old rag of beauty, your death's head ; 
 Try then what custom reveren< e' can trade in ; 
 Fiddle, and play your pranks amongst youf neigh- 
 bours, 
 That all the town may roar ye: now ye simper. 
 And look like a shav'd skull. 
 
 Nit. This comes of prating. 
 
 Sec. I am, my lord, a worm : pray, my lord, 
 tread on me ; 
 I will not turn again. 'Las, I shall never venture 
 To hang my pole out! On my knees, I beg it. 
 My bare knees, 1 will down unto my wife. 
 And do what she will have me, all 1 can do; 
 Kay more, if she will have it, ask forgiveness. 
 Be an obedient husband ; never cross her. 
 Unless sometimes in kindness. vSignor Troylo, 
 Speak one sweet word; I'll swear 'twas in my mad^r 
 
 ness, 
 I said 1 knew not what, and that no creature 
 Was brought by you amongst the ladies; Nitido, 
 ril forswear't he too *. 
 
 " I'll hfindif with tlie barons and the rarlsi, 
 And f itiier die or live with Gave^ton." 
 
 ' Reverence.'] This word se* ms here to be used for old age. 
 * rifforszcear''t he too.] This very quaint and inaccurate sen-
 
 SCENE I. CHASTE AND NOBLE. 199 
 
 Oct. Wait a while our pleasure ; 
 
 You shall know more anon. 
 
 Sec. Remember me now. 
 
 [^E.veiint Sec. and Nit. 
 
 Oct. Troylo, thou art my brother's son, and 
 nearest 
 In blood to me ; thou hast been next in counsels. 
 Those ties ot nature (if thou canst consider 
 How much they do engage) work by instinct, 
 In every worthy or ignoble mention 
 Which can concern me. 
 
 Troy. Sir, they have and shall 
 
 As long as I bear life. 
 
 Oct. Henceforth the stewardship. 
 
 My carefulness, for the honour of our family, 
 Has undertook, must yield the world account. 
 And make clear reckonings; yet we stand suspected 
 In our even courses. 
 
 Troy. But when time shall wonder 
 
 How much it was mistaken in the issue 
 Of honourable and secure contrivements, 
 Your wisdom, crovvn'd with laurels of a justice 
 L'eserving approbation, will quite foil 
 The i2:norance of popular opinion. 
 
 Oct. Report is merry with my feats; my dot- 
 age, 
 Undoubtedly, the vulgar voice doth carol it. 
 
 Troy. True, sir; but llomanello's late admission 
 Warrants that giddy confidence of rumour 
 Without all contradiction ; now 'tis oracle, 
 And so receiv'd : 1 am confirm'd' the lady 
 By this time proves his scorn as well as laughter. 
 
 tence seems to mean, '' I'll swear that not even he (Nitido) ha? 
 not been amongst the ladies, by which I shall forswear mv- 
 self." 
 
 ' / am confirmed,] i. e. I am coDvInccd.
 
 200 THE FANCIES, ACT V. 
 
 Oct. And we with her his table-talk. She stands 
 not 
 In any firm affection to him ? 
 
 Troif. None, sir. 
 
 More than her wonted nobleness afforded 
 Out of a civil custom. 
 
 Oct. We are resolute 
 
 In our determination, meaning quickly 
 To cause these clouds fly off; the ordering of it. 
 Nephew, is thine. 
 
 J'roy. Your care and love commands me. 
 
 Enter Livio. 
 
 Liv. I come, my lord, a suitor. 
 
 Oct. Honest Livio, 
 
 Perfectly honest, really ; no fallacies. 
 No flaws are in thy truth: I shall promote thee 
 To place more eminent. 
 
 Troy. Livio deserves it. 
 
 Oct, What suit? Speak boldly. 
 
 Liv. Pray discharge my office. 
 
 My mastership; 'twere better live a yeoman. 
 And live with men, than over-eye your horses'. 
 Whilst I myself am ridden like a jade. 
 
 Oct. Such breath sounds but ill manners: know, 
 young man, 
 Old as we are, our soul retains a fire 
 Active and quick in motion, which shall equal 
 The daring'st boy's ambition of true manhood 
 That wears a pride to brave us. 
 
 2'roy. He's my friend, sir. 
 
 Oct. You are weary of our service, and may 
 leave it. 
 We can court no man's duty. 
 
 Liv. Without passion. 
 
 My lord, d'ye think your nephew here, your Troylo, 
 
 ' Houses,'] So the old copy.
 
 SCENE I. CHASTE AND NOBLE- i20l 
 
 Parts in your spirit as freely as your blood ? 
 *Tis no rude question. 
 
 Oct. Had you known his mother 
 
 You might have sworn her honest. Let him jus- 
 tify 
 Himself not base born : for thy sister's sake, 
 I do conceive the like of thee ; be wiser. 
 But prate to me no more thus. [To Troylo.] 
 
 If the gallant 
 Resolve on my attendance, ere he leave me. 
 Acquaint him with the present service, nephew, 
 1 mean to employ him in. [Exit. 
 
 Troy. Fie, Livio, wherefore 
 
 Turn'd wild upon the sudden ! 
 
 Lw. Pretty gentleman, 
 
 How modestly you move your doubts ! how tame- 
 
 Ask Romanello ; he hath, without leave, 
 Survey'd your Bowers of Fancies, hath discovered 
 The mystery of those pure nuns ; those chaste ones. 
 Untouched, forsooth ; the holy academy ; 
 Hath found a mother's daughter there of mine too, 
 And one who call'd my father, father; talks on't. 
 Ruffles' in mirth on't; baffled to my face 
 The glory of her greatness by it, 
 
 Troy. Truly? 
 
 hio. Death to my sufferance ! Canst thou hear 
 this misery, 
 And answer it with a " truly?" 'Twas thy wick- 
 edness. 
 False as thine own heart, tempted my credulity, 
 
 * i?M^.] To ruffle was to swairger, io be turbulent or 
 noisy. The term ruffier, which signified a cheating bully, was 
 certainly derived from the rerb, and not the original of it, as 
 Stccvens supposes.
 
 :20^ THE FANCIES, ACT V. 
 
 That, her to rum' ; she was once an innocent. 
 As tree from spot as the blue tace of heaven, 
 Without a cloud in't ; she is now as suliieci 
 As is that canopy, when mists and vapours 
 Divide It from our sight, and threaten pestilence. 
 
 Troi/. Says he so, Livio ? 
 
 Lh. Yes, an*t like your nobleness; 
 
 He truly does so say. Your breach of friendship 
 With me, must borrow courage from your uncle. 
 Whilst your sword talks an answer; there's no re- 
 medy, 
 1 will have satisfaction, though thy life ' 
 Come short of such demand. 
 
 Trot/. Then satisfaction, 
 
 Much worthier than your sword can force, you 
 
 shall have, 
 Y^et mine shall keep the peace. I can be angry, 
 And brave aloud in my reply ; but honour 
 Schools me to fitter grounds: this, as a gentleman, 
 I promise ere the pinutes of the night 
 Warn us to rest; such satisfaction, hear me, 
 And credit it as more you cannot wish tor, 
 So much not think of. 
 
 Liu. Not! The time is short: 
 
 Before our sleeping hour, you vow ! 
 
 Troi/. 1 do, 
 
 Before we ought to sleep. 
 
 Liv. So I intend too ; 
 
 On confidence of which, what lett the marquis 
 In charge for me ? Til do't. 
 
 ''Tioas thif wickedness^ 
 
 Fdlse as thine oisn heart, tempted my credulity^ 
 Thut, her to rw/n.] The last hcmisMch is very obscurely 
 cxprpsticd, but the following is undoubtedly the sense intended 
 by thcd.ithor: " Thy wickedness made me credulous, and my 
 credulity tempted her to ruin."
 
 SCENE I. CHASTE AND NOBLE. 203 
 
 Troy. Invite count Julio, 
 
 His lady, and her brother, with their company> 
 To my lord's court at supper. 
 
 Liv. Easy business : 
 
 And then ? 
 
 Trojf. And then, soon after, the performance 
 Of my past vow waits on ye ; but be certain 
 You bring them with ye. 
 
 Liv. Yet your servant. 
 
 Troif. Nearer : my friend ; you'll find no less. 
 
 Liv. 'Tis strange : is't possible I 
 
 [^Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II. Another in the same. 
 
 Enter Castamela, Clarella, Floria, and 
 Silvia. 
 
 Cast. You have discoursed to me a lovely story; 
 My heart doth dance to th' music: 'twere a sin 
 Should 1 in any tittle stand distrustful, 
 Where such a people, such as you are, innocent 
 Even by the patent of your years and language. 
 Inform a truth. O, talk it o'er again! 
 Ye are, ye say, three daughters of one mother, 
 That mother only sister to the marquis. 
 Whose charge hath, since her death, being left a wi- 
 dow, 
 Here in this place preferr'd' your education? 
 Is't so? 
 
 Clar. It is even so; and howsoever 
 Report may wander loosely in some scandal 
 
 ' Preferred.~\ This verb seems to be used here, as in the 
 following passage of Othello, for advanced : " So shall you 
 have 3 shorter journey to your desires, by the means I shall have 
 to f refer them."
 
 204 THE FANCIES, ACT V, 
 
 Against our privacies, yet we have wanted 
 No graceful means fit for our births and qualities. 
 To train us up into a virtuous knowledge 
 Of what, and who we ought to be. 
 
 Flo. Our uncle 
 
 Hath often told us, how it more concern'd him. 
 Before he show'd us to the world, to render 
 Our youths and our demeanours in each action 
 Approv'd by his experience, than too early 
 Adventure on the follies of the age. 
 By prone temptations fatal. 
 
 Sil. In good deed, la. 
 
 We mean no harm. 
 
 Cast. Deceit must want a shelter 
 
 Under a roof that's covering to souls 
 So white as breathe' beneath it, such as these are : 
 My happiness shares largely in this blessing. 
 And 1 must thank direction of the providence 
 Which led me hither. 
 
 Clar. Aptly have you styl'd it 
 
 A providence, for ever* in chaste loves 
 Such majesty hath power. Our kinsman, Troylo, 
 Was herein his own factor ; he will prove, 
 Believe him, lady, every way as constant, 
 As noble ; we can bail him from the cruelty 
 Of misconstruction. 
 
 Flo. You will find his tongue 
 
 But a just secretary to his heart. 
 
 Cast. The guardianness, dear creatures, now and 
 then. 
 It seems, makes bold to talk. 
 
 Clar. She has waited on us 
 
 From all our cradles ; will prate sometimes oddly, 
 
 * Breathe.'\ The old copy reads, breaths. The author in 
 this place forgot the impropriety of applying the word breathiniz 
 to souls. 
 
 * Ever,"] t.e. always.
 
 SCENE 11. CHASTE AND NOBLE. SOi 
 
 However, means but sport. I am unwilling 
 Our household should break up, but must obey 
 His wisdom, under whose command we live : 
 Sever our conjpanies I'm sure we shall not; 
 Yet, 'tis a pretty life this, and a quiet. 
 
 Enter Morosa, and Secco, with his apron on^ car" 
 rying a bason of water ^ scissars^ comb, towels, ra- 
 zor, fc. 
 
 Sec. Chuck, duckling, honey, mouse, monkey, 
 all and every tiling ! 1 am thine ever and only ; 
 will never offend again, as 1 hope to shave clean, 
 and get honour by it. Heartily I ask forgiveness; 
 be gracious to thine own flesh and bone, and kiss 
 me home. 
 
 Mor. Look you provoke us no more ; for this 
 time you shall find mercy. Was't that hedgehog- 
 set thy brains a-crowing! Be quit with him, but 
 do not hurt the great male baby. 
 
 Sec. Enough : I am wise, and will be merry. 
 Haste, beauties ; the caroches will sudden ' receive 
 ye. A night of pleasure is toward : pray for good 
 husbands a-piece, that may trim you featly, dainty 
 ones, and let me alone to trim them, 
 
 Mor. Loving hearts, be quick as soon as ye can, 
 time runs apace ; what you must do, do nimbly, 
 and give your minds to't. Young bloods stand 
 fumbling I Fie, away ; be ready for shame before- 
 hand ! Hisband, stand to thy tackling, hisband, 
 like a man of mettle. Go, go, go. 
 
 [^Exit Mo ROSA, with the ladies. 
 
 Sec. Will ye come away, loiterers I Shall I wait 
 all day ? Am I at livery d'ye think I 
 
 * Sudden.^ Sudden stands here for suddeoly^, quickly.
 
 306 THE FA^XIES5 ACT T. 
 
 Enter Spa DONE, ready to he trimmed^ and 
 
 NiTIDO. 
 
 Spa. Here, and ready. What a mouthing thou 
 keepest ! I have but scoured my hands, and cur- 
 ried my head to save time. Honest Secco ! Neat 
 Secco ! Precious barbarian, now thou lookest like 
 a worshipl'ul tooth-drawer. 'VTould I might see 
 thee on horseback, in the pomp, once. 
 
 Sec. A chair, a chair ! Quick, quick 1 
 
 Nit. Here's a chair, a chair-politic, my fine boy: 
 sit thee down in triumph, and rise one of the nine 
 worthies ! Thou'it be a sweet youth anon, sirrah. 
 
 Spa. fSits down. J So : to work with a grace 
 now. 1 cannot but highly be in love with the fa- 
 shion of gentry, which is never complete till the 
 snip snap of dexterity hath mowed off the excre- 
 ments of slovenry. 
 
 Sec. Very commodiously delivered, I protest. 
 
 Nit. Nay, the thing under your fingers is a whelp 
 of the wits, I can assure you. 
 
 Spa. 1 a whelp of the wits? No, no, I cannot 
 bark impudently and ignorantly enough. Oh, an 
 a man of this art had now and then sovereignty 
 over fair ladies, you would tickle their upper and 
 their lower lips ; you'd so smouch and belaver 
 their chops ? 
 
 Sec. We light on some offices for ladies too, as 
 occasion serves. 
 
 Nit. Yes ; frizzle or powder their hair, plain 
 their eye-brows, set a nap on their cheeks ', keeps 
 secrets, and tell news : that's all. 
 
 ' Set a nap on their cheeks.'] \ cannot decide to wha' -pedes 
 of the barbt-i'b occii|.atiun thcso word ailude. Icrhapsa ip was 
 aioiilar to the cupjiiig-glass, and might be used to Onng co- 
 lour into ladies' checks.
 
 SCENE II. CHASTE AND NOBLE. 207 
 
 Sec. Wink fast with both your eyes : the ingre- 
 dients to the composition of this ball, are most odo- 
 rous camphire, pure soap of Venice, oil of- sweet 
 ahnonds, with the spirit of aUmi ; they will search 
 and smart shrewdly, if you keep not the shop win- 
 dows of your head close. 
 
 [^Covers his ei/es ivith a cloth. 
 
 Spa. News ! well remembered ; that's part of 
 your trade too. Pr'ythee do not rub so roughly. 
 And how goes the tattle o* th' town ? what novel- 
 ties stirring I ha ? 
 
 See. Strange, and scarce to be credited. A geld- 
 ing was lately seen to leap an old mare ; and an old 
 man of one hundred and twelve stood in a white 
 sheet for getting a wench of fifteen with child, 
 here, hard by. Alost admissible and portentous ! 
 
 Spa. I'll never believe it ; 'tis impossible. 
 
 Nil. Most certain ; some doctor-farriers are of 
 opinion that the mare may cast a foal, which the 
 master of their hall concludes, in spite of all jockies 
 and their lamiliars, will carry every race before 
 him, without spur or switch. 
 
 Spa. i >h rare ! a man might venture ten or twen- 
 ty to one safely then, and ne'er be in danger of 
 the cheat. This water, methinks, is none of the 
 sweetest. Camphire and soap of Venice, say ye? 
 
 Sec. With a little Grcccum album for mundifica- 
 tion. 
 
 Nit. GrcBCum alhum is a kind of white perfumed 
 powder, which plain country people, 1 believe, call 
 dog-musk. 
 
 , xi Spa. Dog-musk ! pox o'the dog-musk I What? 
 Dost mean to bleach my nose, thou giv'st such 
 twitches to't ? Set me at liberty as soon as thou 
 canst, gentle Secco. 
 
 Sec. Only pare off a little superfluous down from 
 your chin, and all's done.
 
 ?0S THE FANCIES, ACT V. 
 
 Spa. Pish, no matter for that ; dispatch, I en- 
 treat thee. 
 
 Nit. Have patience, man : 'tis for his credit to 
 be neat. 
 
 Spa. What's that so cold at my throat, and 
 scrubs so hard ? 
 
 Sec. A kind of steel instrument, y-cleped a ra- 
 zor ; a sharp tool and a keen : it has a certain vir- 
 tue of cutting a throat, if a man please to give his 
 mind to't. Hold up your muzzle, signor. When 
 did you talk bawdily to my wife last ? Tell me for 
 your own good, signor, 1 advise you. 
 
 Spa. I talk bawdily to thy wife? Hang bawdry ! 
 Good now, mind thy business, lest thy hand slip. 
 
 Nit. Give him kind words ; you were best, for 
 a toy that I know. 
 
 Sec. Confess, or I shall mar your grace in whif- 
 fing tobacco, or squirting sweet wines down your 
 gullet. You have been offering to play the geld- 
 ing we told ye of, 1 suppose. Speak truth ! 
 Move the semicircle of your countenance to my 
 left hand, file. Out with the truth ! Would you 
 have had a leap ? 
 
 Nit. Spadone, thou art in a lamentable pickle. 
 Have a good heart, and pray if thou canst : I pity 
 thee. 
 
 Spa. I protest and vow, friend Secco, I know no 
 leaps, I. 
 
 Sec. Lecherously goatish, and an eunuch I This 
 cut, and then 
 
 Spa. C(jnfound thee, thy leaps and thy cuts ! 
 I am no eunuch, you finical ass; 1 am no eunuch ; 
 but at all points as well provided as any he in Italy, 
 and that thy wife could have told thee. This your 
 conspiracy, to thrust my head into a brazen tub of 
 kitchen-lee, hood-wink mine eyes in mud-soap,
 
 9CENE II. CHASTE AND NOBLE. 209 
 
 and then offer to cut my throat in the dark, like a 
 coward ? I may live to be revenged on both of ye. 
 
 Nit, O scurvy ! thou art angry ! Feel, man, 
 whether thy weason ' be not cracked first. 
 
 Sec. You must fiddle my brains into a jealousy, 
 rub my temples with saffron, and burnish my fore- 
 head with the juice of yellows ? Have 1 fitted 
 you now, sir ? 
 
 Enter Morosa^ 
 
 Spa. All's whole yet, I hope. 
 
 Mor. Yes, sirrah, all is whole yet : but if ever 
 thou dost speak treason against my sweeting and 
 me once more, thou'lt find a roguey bargain on't. 
 Dear, this was handled like one of spirit and dis- 
 cretion. Nitido has paged it trimly too. No 
 wording, but make ready and attend at court. 
 
 Sec. Now we know thou art a man, we forget 
 what hath past, and are fellows and friends again. 
 
 Nit. Wipe your face clean, and take heed of a 
 razor. 
 
 Spa. The fear put me into a sweat ; I cannot 
 help it. 1 am glad I have my throat mine own, 
 and must laugh tor company, or be laughed at. 
 
 Exeunti 
 
 SCENE IW.A Hall in the same. 
 
 Enter Livio and Troylo. 
 
 Liv. You find, sir, I have proved a ready servant, 
 And brought th' expected guests : amidst these 
 
 feastings, 
 These costly entertainments, you must pardon 
 
 ' Weason^l j. c. GwWct. Sec above^ p. 186. 
 VOL. 11^ O
 
 -^10 l'E FANCIES, ACT V. 
 
 My incivility that here sequesters 
 Your ears from choice of music or discourse, 
 To a less pleasant parley. Night draws on, 
 And quickly will grow old ; it were unmanly 
 For any gentleman who loves his honour, 
 To put it on the rack : here is small comfort 
 Of such a satisfaction as was promised. 
 Though certainly it must be had. Pray tell me, 
 What can appear about me to be us'd thus I 
 My soul is free from injuries. 
 
 Troi/. My tongue 
 
 From serious untruths : I never wrong'd you. 
 Love you too well to mean it now. 
 
 Liv. Not wrong'd me ? 
 
 BlessM Heaven ! this is the bandy* of a patience 
 Beyond all sufferance. 
 
 Troy. If your own acknowledgment 
 
 Quit me not fairly, ere the hours of rest 
 Shall shut our eyes up, say, I made a forfeit 
 Of what no lensjth of years can once redeem. 
 
 Liv. Fine whirls in tame imagination ! On, sir ; 
 It is scarce mannerly at such a season, 
 Such a solemnity (the place and presence 
 Consider' d) with delights to mix combustions. 
 
 Trot/. Prepare for free contents, and give 'em 
 welcome. 
 
 A Flourish. Enter Octavio, Julio, Flavia, 
 RoMANELLO, Camillo, a?id Vespucci. 
 
 Oct. I dare not study words, or hold a compli- 
 ment 
 For this particular, this special favour. 
 
 ' Tlie bandy of a patience.'] It has been before observed, that 
 this is a technical term at tennis. It occurs as a substantive in a 
 similar manner in Dckkcr's Satiromastrix, *' Come ioj take this 
 bandy with the racket of patience." 
 
 9
 
 SCEKE III. CHASTE AND KOBLE. 211 
 
 Jul. Your bounty and your love, my love* must 
 justly 
 Enoage a thankfulness. 
 
 Flat). IndeeOi 
 
 Varieties of entertainment here 
 Have so exceeded all account of plenty, 
 That you have left, great sir, no rarities 
 Except an equal welcome, which may purchase 
 Opinion of a common hospitality. 
 
 Oct. But for this grace, madam, I will lay open 
 Before your judgments, which I know can rate 
 
 them, 
 A cabinet of jewels, rich and lively, 
 The world can show none goodlier ; those I prize 
 Dear as my life. Nephew. 
 
 Troy. Sir, I obey you. [E.citt 
 
 Flav. Jewels, my lord ? 
 
 Oct. No stranger's eye e'er viewM them, 
 
 Unless your brother Romanello haply 
 Was woo'd unto a sight for his approvement ; 
 No more. 
 
 Rom. Not I, I do protest : I hope, sir^ 
 You caruiot think I am a lapidary : 
 1 skill in jewels ! 
 
 Oct. 'Tis a proper quality 
 
 For any gentleman ; your other friendsj 
 May be, are not so coy. 
 
 Jul, W ho ? they ] they know not 
 
 A topaze from an opal. 
 
 Cam. We are ignorant 
 
 In gems which are not common. 
 
 Vesp. But his lordship 
 
 Is pleased, it seems, to try our ignorance. 
 For passage of the time, till they are brought, 
 Pray look upon a letter lately sent me. 
 Lord Julib, madam, Romanello, read
 
 212 THE FANCIES, ACT V. 
 
 A novelty ; 'tis written from Bononie *. 
 Fabricio, once a merchant in this city, 
 Is entered into orders, and receivM 
 Amongst the capuchins a fellow: news 
 Which ought not any ways to be unpleasant ; 
 Certain, 1 can assure it. 
 
 Jul. He at last has 
 
 Bestow'd himself upon a glorious service. 
 
 Rom. Most happy man ! I now forgive the in- 
 juries 
 Thy former life expos' d thee too. 
 
 Liv. \^Aside.'] Turn capuchin ! 
 
 He ! whilst I stand a cypher, and fill up 
 Only an useless sum to be laid out 
 In an unthrifty lewdness, that must buy 
 Both name and riot. Oh, my fickle destiny ! 
 
 Rom. Sister, you cannot taste this course but 
 bravely, 
 But thankfully. 
 
 Flav. He's now dead to the world. 
 
 And lives to Heaven: a saint's reward reward 
 
 him ! 
 My only lov'd lord, all your fears are henceforth 
 Confined unto a sweet and happy penance. 
 
 Enter Troylo, Castamela, Clarella, Flo- 
 RiA, Silvia, and Morosa. 
 
 Oct. Behold, I keep my word : these are the 
 jewels 
 Deserve a treasury ; I can be prodigal 
 Amongst my friends; examine well their lustre, 
 Does it not sparkle! Wherefore dwells your si- 
 lence 
 In such amazement! 
 
 * Bononie.'] The city of Bologna in Italy, from its Latin 
 name.
 
 SCENE III. CHASTE AND NOBLE. 213 
 
 Liv. \_Aside.'\ Patience, keep within me, 
 Leap not yet rudely into scorn of anger! 
 
 Flav. Beauties incomparable ! 
 
 Oct. Romancllo, 
 
 I have been only steward to your pleasures; 
 You lov'd this lady once ; what say you now to 
 her I 
 
 Cast. I must not court you, sir. 
 
 Rom. By no means, fair one ; 
 
 Enjoy your lite of greatness. Sure tlie spring 
 Is past, the Bovver of Fancies is quite wither'd, 
 And offered like a lottery to be drawn ; 
 1 dare not venture for a blank, excuse me. 
 Exquisite jewels ! 
 
 Liv. Hark ye, Troylo. 
 
 Troy. Spare me. 
 
 Oct. You then renounce all right in Castamelal 
 Say, Romanello. 
 
 Rom. Gladly. 
 
 Troy. I'hen I must not. 
 
 Thus 1 embrace mine own, my wife: confirm it. 
 And when 1 fail', my dearest, to deserve thee, 
 Comlbrts and life shall fail me. 
 
 Cast. Like vow 1, 
 
 For my part. 
 
 Troy. Livio, now my brother, justly 
 1 have given satisfaction. 
 
 Cast. Oh, excuse 
 
 Our secrecy : I have been 
 
 Liv. Much more worthy : 
 
 A better sister*, he a better friend 
 Than my dull brains could fashion. 
 
 Rom. Am I cozened! 
 
 ' Thus ulien I fail.'] So the quarto reads. The compositor 
 most probably caught the first word from tlie preceding line. 
 Hrother.2 This is the corrupt reading of the quarto.
 
 2U THE FANCIES, ACX. V. 
 
 Oct. You are not, Romanello : we examined 
 On what conditions your affections fix'd, 
 And found them merely courtship; but my nephew 
 Lov'd with a faith resolv'd, and us'd his poHcy 
 To draw the lady into this society, 
 More freely to discover his sincerity ; 
 Even without Livio's knowledge, thus succeeded, 
 And prosper'd : he's my heir, and she deserved him. 
 
 Jul. Storm not at what is past. 
 
 Flav. A fate as happy 
 
 May crown you with a full content. 
 
 Oct. Whatever 
 
 Report hath talk'd of me abroad, and these. 
 Know they are all my nieces, are the daughters 
 To my dead only sister ; this their guardianness 
 Since they first saw the world : indeed, my mis- 
 tresses 
 They are, I have none other; how brought up 
 Their qualities may speak. Now, Romanello, 
 And gentlemen, for such 1 know ye all, 
 Portions they shall not want, both fit and worthy ; 
 Nor will 1 look on fortune; if you like. 
 Court them and win them, here is free access, 
 In mine own court henceforth: Only for thee, 
 Livio, I wish Clarella were allotted. 
 
 Liv. Most noble lord, I am struck silent. 
 
 Flav. Brother, 
 
 Here's noble choice. 
 
 Rum. Frenzy, how didst thou seize me! 
 
 Clar. We knew you, sir, in Fragniolo's posture. 
 
 Flo. Were merry at the sight. 
 
 Sil. And gave you welcome. 
 
 Mor. Indeed, forsooth, and so we did, an't like 
 you. 
 
 Oct. Enouuh, enough. Now, to shut up the 
 night, 
 Some menial servants of mine own are ready
 
 SCENE III. CHASTE AND NOBLE. 21^ 
 
 For to present a merriment; they intend 
 According- to th' occasion of the meeting, 
 In several shapes to show how love o'ersways 
 All men of several conditions, soldier, 
 Gentry, fool, scholar, merchant-man, and clown : 
 A harmless recreation. Take your places. 
 
 Enter Spadone, Secco, ^itido, and other Mask- 
 ers, and dance. 
 
 Your duties are performed. Henceforth, Spadone, 
 Cast off thy borrowM title. Nephew Troylo, 
 His mother gave thee suck ; esteem him honestly. 
 Lights for the lodgings ! *tis high time for rest. 
 Great ipen may be mistook when thev mean best.
 
 EPILOGUE. 
 
 Spoken hy Morosa, Glabella, Castamela, 
 and Flavia. 
 
 Mor. A while suspected, gentlemen, I look 
 For no new law, being quitted by the book. 
 
 Clar. Our harmless pleasures, free, in every sort, 
 Actions of scandal ; may they free report. 
 
 Cast. Distrust is base, presumption urgeth wrongs, 
 But noble thoughts must prompt as noble tongues. 
 
 Flav. Fancy and judgment are a play's full matter; 
 Jf we haye err'd in one, right you the latter.
 
 THE LADY'S TRIAL.
 
 THE LADY*S TRIAL. 
 
 This play^ the last of those of onr author which we are in pos. 
 session of, was printed in quarto, with the following title : 
 *' The Ladies Triall. Acted by both their Majesties serrants, 
 at the Prirate-house in Drury.Lane. Fide Honor. London, 
 Printed by . G. for Henry Shephard, and are to be sold at his 
 shop in Chancery-Lane, at the signe of the Bible, between Sar- 
 jants Inne and Fleet-Street, near the King's-head Taverne, 1639.'* 
 Notwithstanding its Tery considerable merit, it has suffered hi. 
 therto complete neglect, never haying been reprinted nor rerired.
 
 ^o 
 
 MY DESERVIMGLY UON'OUUED, 
 
 JOHN WYRLEY, Esquire, 
 
 AND TO THE VIRTUOUS AND RIGHT WORTHY GENTLEWOMAN^ 
 
 MRS MARY WYRLEY, 
 
 MIS WIFE, THIS SERVICE. 
 
 1 HE inequality of retribution turns to a pity, when 
 there is not ability sufficient for acknowledgment* 
 Your equal respects may yet admit the readiness of 
 endeavour, though the very hazard in it betray 
 my defect. I have enjoyed freely acquaintance 
 with the sweetness of your dispositions, and can 
 justly account, from the nobleness of them, an evi- 
 dent distinction betwixt friendship and friends. 
 The latter (according to the practice of compli^ 
 ment) are usually met with, and often without 
 search: The other, many have searched for, I have 
 found. For which, though I partake a benefit of 
 the fortune, yet to you, most equal pair, must re^ 
 main the honour of that bounty. In presenting 
 this issue of some less serious hours to your tui-* 
 tion, I appeal from the severity of censure to the 
 mercy of your judgments ; and shall rate it at a 
 higher value than when it was mine own, if you
 
 224 DEDICATION. 
 
 only allow it the favour of adoption. Thus, as your 
 happiness in the fruition of each other's love pro- 
 ceeds to a constancy, so the truth of mine shall ap- 
 pear less unshaken, as you shall please to continue 
 in your good opinions 
 
 John Ford.
 
 PROLOGUE. 
 
 Language and matter, with a fit of mirth, 
 That sharply savours mors of air than earthy 
 Like mid wives, bring a play to timely birth. 
 
 But Where's now such a one, in which these three, 
 Are handsomely contriv'd ? or, if they be, 
 Are understood by all who hear to see. 
 
 Wit, wit's the word in fashion, that alone 
 Cries up the poet, which, though neatly shewn, 
 Is rather censur'd, oftentimes, than known. 
 
 He who will venture on a jest, that can 
 Rail on another's pain, or idly scan 
 Affairs of state, oh I he's the only man. 
 
 A goodly approbation, which must bring 
 Fame with contempt, by such a deadly sting! 
 The muses chatter, who were wont to sing. 
 
 Your favours in what we present to day. 
 Our fearles author boldly bids roe say, 
 He tenders you no satire, but a play ; 
 
 In which, if he so have not hit all right, 
 
 For wit, words, mirth, and matter as he mighty 
 
 He wishes yet he had, for your delight. 
 
 Mr BIRD*. 
 
 * Whether Theouhihis Rird was the auUior of this Prologue, or whetiier 
 he spoke it at the nrst appearance of the comedy, cannot be decided. His 
 name is subjoined in a similar manner to the Prologue prefixed to the Witdi 
 of Edmonton ; and, in conjunction with Penny cnick, be published the Suns 
 Darling, both in this vohime. He was one of the players ythOf sorviviD^ 
 
 VOL. II. P
 
 226 PROLOGUE, 
 
 the downfal of monarchy, and, at the same time, the deslmotion of drama* 
 tic representation, were forced, by editing the plays they had till then retain- 
 ed in manuscript, to obtain that livelihood which they could no longer find 
 on the stage. Bird is mentioned as a celebrated player at the Cock-pit along 
 with Perkins, Bowyer, Sumner, Allen, and Robins, in Wright's Hittoria 
 Histrionica, 1699. He also published, in conjunction with several other co- 
 medians, the first folio edition of Beaumont and Fletcher's plays, which ap- 
 peared io 1647.
 
 DRAMATIS PERSONiE. 
 
 AuRiA, a noble Genoese, 
 A D u R N I , a young lord. 
 AuRELio, friend to Auria. 
 Malfato, a discontented lover. 
 
 Trelcatio, 1 . . ^ _, 
 
 Mj- citizens of Genoa. 
 ARTINO, j -^ 
 
 PlERO, ^ 
 
 P > dependents on Adjj UK I. 
 
 Guzman, a braggadoccio Spaniard. 
 FuLGoso, an upstart gallant. 
 Benatzi, husband to Levidolche. 
 
 Spinella, wife to Auria. 
 Castanna, her sister. 
 Amoretta, a fantastic maid. 
 Levidolche, a wanton. 
 
 The Scene. "-'Genoa.
 
 THE LADY'S TRIAL. 
 
 ACT L 
 
 SCENE L A room in the House of AuRIA. 
 
 Enter Piero and Futelli, at several door 
 
 Piero. Accomplished man of fashion ! 
 
 Fut. The times* wonder ! 
 
 Gailant of gallants, Genoa's Piero ! 
 
 Piero, Italy's darling, Europe's joy, and so forth! 
 The newest news, unvampt *. 
 
 Fut. I am no foot-post, 
 
 No pedlar of Avisos, no monopolist 
 Of forg'd Corantos, monger of gazettes. 
 
 Piero. Monger of courtezans, fine Futelli : 
 In certain kind a merchant of the staple 
 For wares of use and trade ; a taker-up, 
 Rather indeed a knocker-down ; the word 
 
 * Unvampt.'] I haye not met yrxih this singular word. Ta 
 vamp is to coTer an old thing with a new part, and the word in 
 the iext^ therefore, signifies uncoyered, disclosed. Perhaps we 
 should read...un7amp'^, i. e. discloss it.
 
 230 THE lady's trial. act I, 
 
 Will carry either sense. But in pure earnest. 
 How trowls the common noise ? 
 
 Fut. Auria, who lately. 
 
 Wedded and bedded to the fair Spinella, 
 Tir'd with the enjoyments of delights, is hasting 
 To cuft^the Turkish pirates, in the service 
 Of the great duke of Florence. 
 
 Piero. Does not carry 
 
 His pretty thing along ! 
 
 Fut. Leaves her to bufFel 
 
 Land-pirates here at home. 
 
 Piero, That's thou and I, 
 
 Futelli, sirrah, and Piero. Blockhead ! 
 To run from such an armful of pleasures 
 For gaining, what ? a bloody nose of honour ! 
 Most sottish and abominable ! 
 
 Fut. Wicked, 
 
 Shameful, and cowardl/, I will maintain. 
 
 Piero. Is all my signor's hospitality. 
 Huge banquetings, deep revels, costly trappings. 
 Shrunk to a cabin, and a single welcome 
 To beverage and biscuit ? 
 
 Fut. Hold thy peace, man ! 
 
 It makes for us. He comes, let's part demurely. 
 
 -Enfer Adurn I, Auria, anrf Fulgoso'. 
 
 Adur. We wish thee, honour'd Auria, life and 
 safety ; 
 Return crown d with a victory, whose wreath 
 Of triumph may advance thy country's glory, 
 Worthy your name and ancestors. 
 
 Aur. My lord, 
 
 I shall not live to thrive in any action 
 
 ^ Fulgo$o.'\ The entrance of this gallant is not noticed in the 
 quarto, butaii he makes a si)ecch ininiudiately after, the insertion 
 was oecebsary.
 
 SCENE I. THE LADY's TRIAL. 83l 
 
 Deserving memory, when I forget 
 Adurni's love and favour. 
 
 Pitro. 1 present ye 
 
 My service for a farewell. 
 
 Fut. Let few words 
 
 Excuse all arts of compliment. 
 
 Ful. For my own part, 
 
 Kill or be kill'd, (for there's the short and long on't,) 
 Call me your shadow's hinch-boy '. 
 
 Aur. Gentlemen, 
 
 My business urging on a present haste, 
 Euforceth short reply, 
 
 Adur. We dare not hinder 
 
 Your resolution wing'd with thoughts so constant. 
 All happiness ! 
 
 Piero and Fat. Contents ! 
 
 [Exeunt Adurni, Piero, Futelli, and 
 
 FULGOSO. 
 
 Aur. So leave the wintered people of the north, 
 The minutes of their summer, when the sun 
 Departing leaves them in cold robes of ice, 
 As 1 leave Genoa. 
 
 Enter Trelcatio, Spinella, and Castanna. 
 
 Now appears the object 
 Of my apprentic'd heart ; thou bring* st, Spinella, 
 A welcome in a farewell, souls and bodies 
 
 ' Hinch.boy.~\ This word is generally spelt hench-boy, and 
 is of very common occurrence iu old plays. Henchmen were 
 originally a kind of pages of honour at the court, but their or- 
 der was abolished by Queen Elizabeth. Afterwards the term 
 came to be applied to any domestic servant. The word was pro- 
 bably derived from the Teutonic and Saxon word hengst, a stal- 
 lion, as Sir William Spelman observes, having served originally 
 oa horseback. The latest use of the term for a particular kind 
 of servants, was amongst the Scotish IJigblandcrs, where the 
 henchman of a chieftain was his first and favourite servant. Se 
 the Notes to Scott's Lady of the Lake, p. 331.
 
 $3i THE lady's TRIAt. ACT I. 
 
 Are severed for a time, a span of time, 
 
 To join again, without all separation, 
 
 In a confirmed unity for ever : 
 
 Such will our next embraces be for life ; 
 
 And then to take the wrack of our divisions ', 
 
 Will sweeten the remembrance of past dangers, 
 
 Will fasten love in perpetuity, 
 
 Will force our sleeps to steal upon our stories. 
 
 These days must come, and shall, without a cloud, 
 
 Or night of fear, or envy. To your charge, 
 
 Trelcatio, our good uncle, and the comtbrt 
 
 Of my Spinella's sister, fair Castanna, 
 
 I do entrust this treasure. 
 
 Trel. I dare promise. 
 
 My husbanding that trust with truth and care. 
 
 Cast. My sister shall to me stand an example, 
 Of pouring free devotions for your safety. 
 
 Aur. Gentle Castanna, thou*rt a branch of good- 
 ness 
 Grown on the self-same stock with my Spinnella. 
 But why, my dear, hast thou lock'd up thy speech 
 In so much silent sadness ? Oh ! at parting 
 Belike one private whisper must be sigh'd. 
 Uncle, the best of peace enrich your family ! 
 I take my leave. 
 
 Trel. Blessings and health preserve ye. [Exit. 
 
 Aur. Nay, nay, Castanna, you may hear our 
 counsels; 
 A while, you are design'd your sister's husband. 
 Give me thy hand, Spinella ; you did promise, 
 To send me from you with more cheerful looks. 
 Without a grudge or tea^ ; *deed, love, you did. 
 
 * And then to take the wrack of our divisions.'] This is very 
 obscure, but the intended meaning is jjrobably to rccal to our 
 minds the rack or torment which wc endured during the time of 
 our "being separated.
 
 SCENE I. THE lady's TRIAL. 933 
 
 Spi. What friend have I left in your absence ? 
 
 Aur. Many r 
 
 Thy virtues are such friends they cannot fail thee ; 
 Faith, purity of thoughts, and such a meekness, 
 As would force scandal to a blush. 
 
 Spi. Admit, sir. 
 
 The patent of your life should be call'd in. 
 How am I then left to account with griefs ; 
 More slav'd to pity than a broken heart I 
 Auria ! soul of my comforts, 1 let fall 
 No eye on breach of fortune ; I contemn 
 No entertainment to divided hopes ; 
 I urge no pressures by the scorn of change : 
 And yet, my Auria, when I but conceive 
 How easy 'tis (without impossibility) 
 Never to seie thee more, forgive me then, 
 If I conclude 1 may be miserable. 
 Most miserable. 
 
 Cast. And such conclusion, sister, 
 
 Argues effects of a distrust more voluntary, 
 Than cause by likelihood. 
 
 Aur. *Tis truth, Castanna. 
 
 Spi. I grant it truth ; yet, Auria, I'm a woman, 
 And therefore apt to fear. To shew my duty. 
 And not to take heart from you, I'll walk from ye. 
 At your command, and not as much as trouble 
 Your thought with one poor looking back. 
 
 Aur. I thank thee. 
 
 My worthy wife ! Before we kiss, receive 
 This caution from thine Auria First, Castanna, 
 Let us bid farewell. 
 
 Spi. Speak, good, speak. 
 
 Aur. The steps 
 
 Young ladies tread left to their own discretion, 
 However wisely printed, are observed 
 And construed as the lookers-on presume : 
 Point out thy ways then in such even paths.
 
 234 THE lady's trial. act I. 
 
 As thine own jealousies from others' tongues 
 
 May not intrude a guilt, tho' undeserved. 
 
 Admit of visits as of physic forc'd, 
 
 Not to procure health, but for sate prevention 
 
 Against a growing sickness ; in thy use 
 
 Of time and of discourse be found so thrifty. 
 
 As no remembrance may impeach thy rest ; 
 
 Appear not in a fashion that can prompt 
 
 The gazer's eye, or holla ' to report ; 
 
 Some widowed neglect of hand, some value * ; 
 
 In recreations be both wise and free ; 
 
 Live still at home, home to thyself, howe'er 
 
 Knrich'd with noble company ; remember 
 
 A woman's virtue, in her lifetime, writes 
 
 The epitaph all covet on their tombs ; 
 
 In short, I know thou never wilt forget 
 
 Whose wife thou art, nor how upon thy lips 
 
 Thy husband at his parting seal'd ' this kiss. 
 
 No more. 
 
 Sjji. Dear heaven ! go, sister, go. 
 
 [Ea;eunt Spinella and Cast ash a. 
 
 Aur. Done bravely, 
 
 And like the choice of glory to know mine 
 One of earth's best : I have forgone 
 
 Enter Aurelio. 
 See, see, 
 
 * Holla to report."] Ilulla is a term uf horscinUnsliip, aiuf 
 is generally used for restraining and stopping the horse. Here 
 it evidently means exactly (he reverse, na it stands for.-.incite- 
 nient, urging on. 
 
 * Some u-idoxced neglect of hamf^ sotnc value.] If a line has 
 not been lost after this, which 1 strongly suspect, the text must 
 mean,. ..some value a degree of neglect towards their husbands 
 in Mouien who have been left by thein alone, or in a state of 
 widowhood. 
 
 * Staid.] So the quarto reads. The corruption is obviout.*
 
 SCENE I. THE LADY S TRIAL. 23.5 
 
 Yet in another I am rich, a friend, 
 A perfect one, Aurelio. 
 
 Aurel, Had I beenj 
 
 No stranger to your bosom, sir', ere now 
 You might have sorted^ me in your resolves. 
 Companion of your fortunes. 
 
 Aur, So the wrongs 
 
 I should have ventur'd on against thy fate 
 Must have denied all pardon. Not to hold 
 Dispute with reputations, why before 
 This present instant 1 conceal'd the stealth 
 Of my adventures from thy counsels*, know. 
 My wants do drive me hence. 
 
 Aurel, Wants I So you said. 
 
 And 'twas not friendly spoken. 
 
 Aur. Hear me further, 
 
 Aurel. Auria, take heed ; the covert of a folly 
 Willing to range, be not, without excuse, 
 Discover'd in the coinage of untruths : 
 1 use no harder language. Thou art near 
 Already on a shipwreck, in forsaking 
 The holy land of friendship, in forsaking ' 
 To talk your wants. Fie ! 
 
 * Sorted.^ Amongst the various significations of the verb lo 
 sort that which best suits the text is.- to choose or select. 
 
 * The counsels.'] So the quarto corruptetlly reads. 
 ' ' iJwu art near 
 
 Already on a shtpzcrccfc, in forsalUng 
 
 The hoii/ land of friendship^ in forsakini^ 
 
 To talk your zcants. Fie !^ This uiay mean, *' in forsak. 
 ing or omitting to mention or tulk before of your wants to your 
 friend;" and as this meaning, though not dearly expressed, is 
 not a bad one, the text has not been disturbed. But as the only old 
 edition of this play is remarkably incorrect, I strongly suspect 
 that either a line has been entirely lost, or that the last words, 
 '' in forsaking," the second time of their occurrence, are cor- 
 rupt, aud were caaght from the preceding limi by the compos;.
 
 236 THE LADY*S TRIAL. ACT I. 
 
 Aur. By that sacred thing 
 
 Last issued from the temple where it dwelt, 
 I mean our friendship, 1 am sunk so low 
 In my estate, that, bid me live in Genoa 
 But six months longer ', I survive the remnant 
 Of all my store. 
 
 Aiirel. Umph ! 
 
 Aur. In my country, friend, 
 
 Where I have sided my superior*, friend, 
 SwayM opposition, friend ; friend, here to fall 
 Subject to scorn, or rarely found compassion, 
 Were more than man that hath a soul could bear, 
 A soul not stoop'd to servitude, 
 
 Aurel. You shew, 
 
 Nor certainty, nor weak assurance yet 
 Of reparation in this course, in case 
 Command be proffered. 
 
 Aur. He who cannot merit 
 
 Preferment by employments let him bare 
 His throat unto the Turkish cruelty. 
 Or die or live a slave without redemption. 
 
 Aurel. For that, so:- but you have a wife, a young, 
 A fair wife ; she, though she could never claim 
 Right in prosperity, was never tempted 
 
 tor. I prefer, however, the former sapposttion. The omitted 
 one might perhaps have run thus : 
 
 ill forsakiiu 
 
 'Ike confidvnte you placed toUhm your friend. 
 To talk yoar wants ! Fie I 
 
 ' that bids me live in Genoa 
 But six months longer.'} This is the corrupt reading of the 
 quarto. The omission of a single letter iu the text restores the 
 sense completely. Lower down another correction was neces. 
 sary, the quarto reading, KoMr show, iior certainty, tScc. 
 
 * fVhere I have sided mj/ super iofy] i. e, *' Where I have cqual> 
 ioil or matched (iu state or ezpcnce) toy $ui)crior in rauk."
 
 SCENE I. THE LADY S TRIAL. 237 
 
 By trial of extremes ; to youth and beauty 
 Baits for dishonour, and a perishM fame '. 
 
 Aur. Shew me the man that lives, and to my 
 face 
 Dares speak, scarce think, such tyranny against 
 Spinella*s constancy, except Aurelio : 
 He is my friend. 
 
 Aurel. There lives not then a friend 
 
 Dares love you like Aurelio ; that Aurelio, 
 Who, late and early, often said, and truly. 
 Your marriage with Spinella would entangle 
 As much th* opinion due to your discretion, 
 As your estate : it hath done so to both. 
 
 Aur. I find it hath. 
 
 Aurel. He who prescribes no law, 
 
 No limits of condition to the objects 
 Of his affection, but will merely wed 
 A face, because 'tis round, or limn'd * by nature 
 In purest red and white ; or, at the best, 
 For that his mistress owes ^ an excellence 
 Of qualities, knows when and how to speak, 
 Where to keep silence, with fit reasons why ; 
 Whose virtues are her only dower, else * 
 
 ' Shcy though she could never claim 
 
 Right in prosperity^ was never tempted 
 By trial of extremes ; to youth and beauty 
 Baits for dishonour, and a perished fame."] The meaning 
 of this somewhat inToIyed sentence is : ** She, though she never 
 could claim a right in prosperity, (or, in other words, never 
 knew prosperity) was never tempted (to dishonour) by the trial 
 of extremities or misfortunes ; which, to a youthful and beau- 
 teous lady, are baits to lead her to dishonour^ and the loss of 
 her reputation." 
 * Limb'd.'] This word, as corrected in the text^ me^ns paint. 
 
 3 OaD*,] I. e. Owns, possesses. 
 
 Else 
 
 In either kind.'} As there is no sense which can be extracted
 
 93S THE lady's TRIAl.. ACT 1. 
 
 In either kind, ought of himself to master 
 Such fortunes as add fuel to their loves : 
 For otherwise But herein 1 am idle ', 
 Have fool'd to little purpose. 
 
 Aur, She's my wife. 
 
 Aurel. And being so, it is not manly done 
 To leave her to the trial of her wits, 
 IJer modesty, her innocence, her vows. 
 This is tlie way that points her out an art 
 Of wanton life. 
 
 Aur. Sir, said ye ? 
 
 Aurel. You form reasons. 
 
 Just ones, for your abandoning the storms 
 Which threaten your own ruin ; but propose 
 No shelter for her honour. What my tongue 
 Hath uttered, Auria, is but honest doubt. 
 And you are wise enough in the construction. 
 
 Aur. Necessity must arm my confidence. 
 Which, if 1 live to triumph over, friend, 
 And e'er come back in plenty, I pronounce 
 Aurelio heir of what I can bequeath ; 
 Some fit deduction for a worthy w idow, 
 Allow'd with caution : she be like to prove so *. 
 
 Aurel. Who ? 1 your heir \ your wife being yet 
 so young ? 
 In every probability so forward 
 To make you a tather ? leave such thoughts. 
 
 Aur. Believe it, 
 
 Without replies, Aurelio : keep this note, 
 
 from those words as rcforri'iig to tlie context of Aurclio's spcrch, 
 there can be little doubt that either a Tiolciit corruption, or the 
 omission of one or more lines has taken place in the quarto : the 
 purport of which is however ditficult to conceire. 
 
 ' ldic.'\ Foolish, weak. 
 
 * She be tike to prove so P^ These words may cither mean,. 
 She is likely to proTe a widow, or else. She is likely to prore 
 worthy ; but the former is more probably the intended mean.
 
 SCENE II. THE LAD\'S TRIAL. 239 
 
 A warrant for receiving from Martino 
 
 Two hundred ducats ; as you find occasion 
 
 Dispose them in my absence to Spinella : 
 
 1 would not trust her uncle ; he, good man, 
 
 Is at an ebb himself: another hundred 
 
 1 left with her, a fourth I carry with me. 
 
 Am 1 not poor, Aurelio, now I Exchange 
 
 Of more debates between us, would undo 
 
 My resolution. Walk a little, pr'ythee, 
 
 Friends we are, and will embrace ; but let's not 
 
 speak 
 Another word. 
 Aurel. ril follow you to your horse. [Exit. 
 
 SCENE II. A Room in the Home o/ Adurni. 
 
 Enter Adurni and Futelli. A Letter. 
 
 Adur. With her own hand 1 
 
 Fut, She never us*d, my lord, 
 
 A second means, but kiss*d the letter first. 
 Overlooked the superscription : then let fall 
 Some amorous drops, kiss'd it again, talk'd to it 
 Twenty times over, set it to her mouth. 
 Then gave it me, then snatched it back again, 
 Then cry*d, " Oh, my poor heart !*' and in an in- 
 stant, 
 *' Commend my truth and secrecy." Such medley 
 Of passion, yet I never saw in woman. 
 
 Adur. In woman ? thou'rt deceiv'd ; but that 
 we both 
 Had mothers, I could say how women are, 
 In their own natures, models of mere change ; 
 Of change of what is naught to what is worse. 
 She fed ye liberally ? 
 
 Fut. Twenty ducats
 
 240 THE lady's trial. act I. 
 
 She forc'd on me ; vow'd, by the precious love 
 She bore the best of men, (I use, my lord, 
 Her very words), the miracle of men, 
 Malfato, then she sigh'd, this mite of gold 
 AVas only entrance to a farther bounty. 
 *Tis meant, my lord, belike press-money. 
 
 Adur. Devil! 
 
 How durst she tempt thee, Futelli, knowing 
 Thy love to me ? 
 
 Fut. There lies, my lord, her cunning, 
 
 Rather her craft : first she began, what pity 
 It was, that men should differ in estates 
 Without proportion ; some so strangely rich, 
 Others so miserable poor; " and yet," 
 Quoth she, " since 'tis [in] very deed unfit 
 All should be equals ; so I must confess. 
 It were good justice that the properest men 
 Should be preferr'd Jo fortune, such as nature 
 Had mark'd with fair abilities; of which 
 Genoa, for ought I know, hath wond'rous few, 
 Not two to boast of." 
 
 Adur. Here began her itch. 
 
 Fut. I ansvver'd, she .was happy then, whose 
 choice ... J( H'Vi.: 
 In you, njy lord, was srnguls^r. 
 
 Adur. Well urgM. 
 
 Fut. She smilM, and said, it might be so, and 
 yet- 
 There stopp'd : then I dos'd with her, and con- 
 cluded 
 The title of a lord was not enough ; 
 For absolute perfection, I had seen 
 Persons of meaner quality, much more 
 Exact in liair endowments. But your lordship 
 Will pardon me,. 1 hope. 
 
 Adur. And love thee for it. 
 
 Fut. " Phew; let that pass," quoth she^." ajid 
 now we prattle
 
 SCENE II. THE LADY S TRIAL. 2Vl 
 
 Of handsome gentlemen, in my opinion, 
 Malfato is a very pretty fellow : 
 Is he not, pray, sir?" I had then the truth 
 Of what 1 rov'd at, and with more than praise 
 ApprovM her judgment in so high a strain. 
 Without comparison, my honoured lord, 
 That soon we both concluded of the man. 
 The match and business. 
 
 Adur. For delivering 
 
 A letter to Malfato ? 
 
 Put, Whereto I 
 
 No sooner had consented, with protests, 
 I did protest, my lord, of secrecy 
 And service, but ishe kiss'd me, as I live, 
 Of her own free accord. I trust your lordship 
 Conceives not me amiss : 'pray rip the seal. 
 My lord; you'll find sweet stuff, 1 dare believe. 
 
 Adur. \rads.~\ Present to the most accomplish' d 
 of men, Malfato uith this love a service. 
 Kind superscription ! Pr'ythee, find him out. 
 Deliver it with compliment ; observe 
 How ceremoniously he does receive it. 
 
 Fut. Will not your lordship peruse the contents? 
 
 Adur. Enough, 1 know too much: be just and 
 cunning. 
 A wanton mistress is a common sewer, 
 Must never project labours in my brain'. 
 
 * A wanton mistress is a common sewer, j 
 
 Much never project labours in my brain.'] So the quarto 
 reads. The variatioa in the text restores some degree of sense 
 to these lines, which are at best very obscure. The uext line, 
 stands thus in the old edition 
 
 Four friend here's now the gemini cf tvit. 
 Adurni eyidently means to call Piero and Futelli the geminij^ or 
 twins of wit, which suggests the pointing in the text. 
 
 TOL. II. Q
 
 '^42 THE lady's TRIAt. ACT I. 
 
 Enter PiERO. 
 
 Your frierKl: here's now the gemini of wit : 
 What odd conceit is next on foot? some cast 
 Of neat invention, ha, sirs ? 
 
 Piero. Very fine, 
 
 I do protest my lord. 
 
 Fut. Your lordship's care 
 
 Shall share i* th' plot. 
 
 Adur. As how ? 
 
 Piero. You know, my lord, 
 
 Young Amoretta, old Trelcatio's daughter ; 
 An honest man, but poor. 
 
 Fut. And, my good lord, 
 
 He, that is honest must be poor, my lord, 
 It is a common rule. 
 
 Adur. Well, Amoretta. 
 
 Pray one at once. My knowledge is not much 
 Of her, instruct me. 
 
 Piero. Speak, Futelli. 
 
 Fut. Spare me. 
 
 Piero has the tongue more pregnant'. 
 
 Piero. Fie ! 
 
 Play on your creature ! 
 
 Put. 'Shall be your's. 
 
 Piero. Nay, good. 
 
 Adur. Well, keep your mirth ; my dainty honies 
 agree. 
 Some two days hence, till when 
 
 Piero. By any means, 
 
 Partake the sport, my lord : this thing of youth 
 
 Fut, Handsome enough, good face, quick eye, 
 well bred. 
 
 Piero. Is yet possest so strangely 
 
 * Pregnant,"} i. e. able, ready. In the Widow's Tears, by 
 Chapmans, the GoTernor calls Argus, <' A good pregnant fcU 
 low, i' faith."
 
 SCENE II. THE lady's TRIAL. 243 
 
 Fut. With an humour 
 
 Of thinking, she deserves 
 
 Piero. A duke, a count, 
 At least a viscount, for her husband, that 
 
 Fut. She scorns all mention of a match beneath 
 One of the foresaid nobles; will not ride 
 In a caroach without eight horses. 
 
 Piero. Six 
 She may be drawn to : four^ 
 
 Fut. Are for the poor', 
 But for two horses in a coach 
 
 Piero. She says. 
 
 They're not for creatures of Heaven's making, fit- 
 ter 
 
 Fut. Fitter for litters to convey hounds in, 
 Than people Christian : yet herself 
 
 Piero. Herself 
 
 Walks evermore a-foot, and not knows whether 
 A coach doth trot or amble 
 
 Fut. But by hearsay. 
 
 Adur. Stop gentlemen, you run a gallop both ; 
 Are out of breath sure: 'tis a kind of compliment 
 Scarce entered to the times, but certainly 
 You coin a humour : let me understand 
 Deliberately your fancy. 
 
 Piero. In plain troth. 
 
 My lord, the she whom we describe is such, 
 And lives here, here in Genoa, this city, 
 This very city, now, the very now. 
 
 * Are for the power.l It is difRcult to conceive the meaning 
 of these words, which are no doubt corrupt. The alteration 
 adopted in the text is likely enough to have been the original. 
 The two dependents relate that Amoretta may be brought to be 
 contented with six horses, but thinks four should only draw 
 poor people ; and as for two, they are not sufficient for any 
 creatures of Heaven's making.
 
 S4+ . THE lady's TRIAL. ACT I. 
 
 Adur. Trelcatio's daughter? 
 
 Fut. lias refused suitors 
 
 Of worthy rank, substantial and tree parts, 
 Only for' that they are not dukes, or counts ; 
 Yet she herself, with all her father's store, 
 Can hardly weigh above four hundred ducats. 
 
 Adur. Now your design for sport. 
 
 Piero. Without prevention; 
 
 Guzman, the Spaniard late cashiered, most gravely 
 Observes the full punctilios of his nation ; 
 And him have we beleaguered to accost 
 This she-piece, under a pretence of being 
 Grandee of Spain, and cousin to twelve princes. 
 
 Fut. For rival unto whom we have enrag'd 
 Fulgoso, the rich coxcomb lately started 
 A gentleman out of a sutler's hut, 
 In the late Flemish wars ; we have resolved"* him 
 He is descended from Pantagruel, 
 Of famous memory, by the father'^s side, 
 And by the moth(,'r from dame Fusti-Bunga, 
 Who, troubled long-time with a strangury, 
 Vented at last salt-water so abundantly, 
 As drown'd the land 'twixt Sirixia and Vere, 
 Where steeples' tops are only seen ; he casts 
 Beyond the moon, and will be greater yet 
 In spight of Don. 
 
 Adur. You must abuse the maid 
 
 Beyond amends. 
 
 Fut. But countenance the cause, 
 
 My lord, and it may chance, beside the mirth, 
 To work a reformation on the maiden. 
 Her father's leave is granted, and thanks promis'd ; 
 Our ends are harmless trials. 
 
 * For Mo/,1 Because, by reason that. 
 
 * Resolvedf] i. e, satisfied, con?inccd.
 
 SCENE III. THE LADY*S TRIAL. 945 
 
 Adur. I betray 
 
 No secrets of such use '. 
 
 Piero and Fut, Your lordship*s humblest. 
 
 [^Exeunt, 
 
 SCENE III. TA Lodgings of Malfato. 
 
 Enter Aurelio and Malfato. 
 
 Aurel, A melancholy, grounded, and resolv'd, 
 Receiv'd into a habit, argues love, 
 Or deep impression of strong discontents. 
 In cases of these rarities a friend. 
 Upon whose faith, and confidence, we may 
 Vent with security our grief, becomes 
 Oft-times the best physician : for, admit 
 We find no remedy, we cannot miss 
 Advice instead of comfort ; and believe, 
 It is an ease, Malfato, to disburthen 
 Our souls of secret clogs, where they may find 
 A rest in pity, though not in redress. 
 
 Mai. Let all this sense be yielded to. 
 
 Aurel. Perhaps 
 
 You measure what I say, the common nature 
 Of an officious curiosity. 
 
 Mai. Not I, sir, 
 
 Aurel. Or that other private ends 
 Sift your retirements. 
 
 Mai, Neither. 
 
 Enter Futelli, with a letter. 
 
 Fut. Under favour, 
 
 Signor Malfato, I am sent to crave 
 Your leisure, for a word or two in private. 
 
 * Me secrets of such use."] So the quarto. I am not certain 
 of haying hit upon the proper emendation.
 
 246 TftE lady's trial. act i; 
 
 Mai. To me ! Your mind. 
 Fut. This letter will inform ye. 
 
 Mai, Letter? how's this? what's here? [Reads. 
 Fut. Speak you to me, sir ? 
 
 Mai. Brave riddle : I'll endeavour to unfold it. 
 Aurel. How fares the lord Adurni ? 
 Fut. Sure in health, sir. 
 
 Aurel. He is a noble gentleman, withal 
 Happy in his endeavours : the general .voice 
 Sounds him, for courtesy, behaviour, language, 
 And every fair demeanor, an example : 
 Titles of honour add not to his worth, 
 Who is himself an honour to his titles. 
 
 Mai. You know from whence this comes .' 
 Fut. I do. 
 
 Mai. D'ye laugh ! 
 
 But that I must consider such as spaniels 
 To those who feed and clothe them, 1 would print 
 Thy pandarism upon thy forehead. There, 
 Bear back that paper to the hell from whence 
 It gave thee thy directions ; tell this lord, 
 He ventur'd on a foolish policy, 
 In aiming at the scandal of my blood ; 
 The trick is childish, base ; say base. 
 Fut. You wrong him. 
 Aurel. Be wise, Malfato. 
 
 Mai. Say, 1 know this whore. 
 
 She who sent this temptation, was wife 
 To his abused servant ; and divorc'd 
 From poor Benatzi, senseless of the wrongs, 
 That madam Levidolche and Adurni 
 Might revel in their sports without controul, 
 Secure, uncheck'd. 
 
 Aurel. You range too wildly now, 
 
 Are too much inconsiderate. 
 
 MaL I am 
 
 A-^entleman free bom, I never wore 
 
 9
 
 SCENE III. THE LADl^ SERIAL. 24-7 
 
 The rags of any great man*s looks, nor fed 
 Upon their after-meals ; I never crouch'd 
 Unto the oftal of an office promised, 
 Reward for long attendance, and then miss*d. 
 I read no difference between this huge. 
 This monstrous big word lord, and gentleman, 
 More than the title sounds ; for ought I learn, 
 The latter is as noble as the first, 
 I'm sure more ancient. 
 
 Aurel. Let me tell you then, 
 
 You are too bitter, talk you know not what, 
 Make all men equals, and confound all course 
 Of order, and of nature: this is madness, 
 
 Mai. 'Tis so ; and 1 have reason to be mad : 
 Reason, Aurelio, by my truth and hopes. 
 This wit Futelli brings a suit of love 
 From Levidolche, one, however masked 
 In colourable privacy, is fam'd 
 The lord Adurni's pensioner, at least. 
 Am I a husband picked out for a strumpet, 
 For a cast suit of bawdery? Aurelio, 
 You are as 1 am, you could ill digest 
 The trial of a patience so unfit. 
 Begone, Futelli, do not mince one syllable 
 Of what you hear : another fetch like this 
 May tempt a peace to rage: so say. Begone. 
 
 Fut. I shall report your answer. [Exit. 
 
 MaL What have I 
 
 Deserved to be so us*d? In colder blood, 
 I do confess nobility requires 
 Duty and love; it is a badge of virtue. 
 By action first acquir'd, and next in rank 
 Unto anointed royalty. Wherein 
 Have I neglected distance, or forgot 
 Observance to superiors I Sure, my name 
 Was in the note mistook.
 
 24S THE lady's TRIAL. ACT II. 
 
 Aurel. We will consider 
 
 The meaning of this mystery. 
 
 Mai. Not so, 
 
 Let them fear bondage who are slaves to fear, 
 The sweetest freedom is an honest heart. [^Ereunt. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 SCENE LA Street, 
 
 Enter Futelli and Guzman. 
 
 Fut. Dexterity and sufferance, brave Don, 
 Are engines the pure politic must work with. 
 
 Guz. We understand. 
 
 Fut. In subtleties of war, 
 
 I talk t'ye now in your own occupation, 
 Your trade, or what you please, unto a soldier,. 
 Surprisal of an enemy by stratagem. 
 Or downright cutting throats is all one thing. 
 
 Guz. Most certain: on, proceed. 
 
 Fut. By way of parallel. 
 
 You drill or exercise your company, 
 (No matter which, for terms), before you draw 
 Into the field ; so in the feats of courtship. 
 First, choice is made of thoughts, behaviour, words, 
 The set of looks, the posture of the beard, 
 J3eso las manos, cringes of the knee, 
 The very hums and Im's, thumps and " Aye, me's !** 
 
 Guz. We understand all these : advance. 
 
 Fut. Then next. 
 
 Your enemy in face, your mistress, mark it! 
 Now you consult either to skirmish slightly, 
 That's careless amours, or to enter battle, 
 Then fall to open treaty, or to work
 
 SCENE!. THE LADY S TRIAL. 249 
 
 By secret spies or gold : here you corrupt 
 
 The chambermaid, a fatal engine, or 
 
 Place there an ambuscado, that's contract 
 
 With some of her near friends, for half her portion, 
 
 Or offer truce, and in the interim. 
 
 Run upon slaughter, 'tis a noble treachery, 
 
 That's swear and lie, steal her away ; and to her 
 
 Cast caps, and cry victoria, the field's 
 
 Thine own, my Don, she's thine. 
 
 Guz. We do vouchsafe her. 
 
 Fut. Hold her then fast. 
 
 Guz. As fast as can the arms 
 
 Of strong imagination hold her. 
 
 Fut. No, 
 
 She has skipt your hold ; my imagination's eyes 
 Perceive, she not endures the touch or scent 
 Of your war over-worn habiliments. 
 Which I forgot in my instructions 
 To warn you of: therefore, my warlike Don, 
 Apparel speedily your imagination 
 With a more courtly outside. 
 
 Guz. ' Tis soon done. 
 
 Fut. As soon as said ; in all the clothes thou hast, 
 More than that walking wardrobe on thy back. 
 
 Guz. Imagine first our rich mockado doublet 
 With our cut cloth-of-gold sleeves, and our qucllio', 
 Our diamond-button'd callamanco hose, 
 Our plume of ostrich, with the embroider'd scarf, 
 The duchess Infantazgo rolled our arm in. 
 
 Fut. Aye, this is brave indeed. 
 
 Guz, Our cloak, whose cape is 
 
 Larded with pearls, which the Indian lackies 
 Presented to our countryman De Cortez, 
 For ransom of his life, rated in value 
 
 ' Quellio.'] A corruption of the Spanish word cuello^ a co^ 
 lar. Mockado was a favourite sfuff in our author's time.
 
 t?oO THE lady's TRIAL. ACT II. 
 
 At thirteen thousand pistolets, the guerdon * 
 Of our achievement, when we rescued 
 The infanta from the boar in single duel, 
 Near to the Austrian forest, with this rapier, 
 This only, very, naked, single rapier. 
 
 Fat, Top and top-gallant brave * ! 
 
 Guz. We will appear, 
 
 Before our Amoretta, like the issue 
 Of our progenitors. 
 
 Fut. Imagine so, 
 
 And that this rich suit of imagination. 
 Is on already now, (which is most probable 
 As that apparel ^) here stands your Amoretta, 
 Make your approach and court her. 
 
 Guz. Lustre of beauty, 
 
 Not to affright your tender soul with horror, 
 We may descend to tales of peace and love. 
 Soft whispers fitting ladies' closets ; for 
 Thunder of cannon, roaring smoke and fire, 
 As if hell's maw had vomited confusion. 
 The clash of steel, the neighs of barbed steeds, 
 Wounds spouting blood, towns capering in the air, 
 Castles push'd down, and cities plough'd with 
 
 swords. 
 Become great Guzman's oratory best. 
 Who, tbo* victorious, (and during life 
 Must be) yet now grants parley to thy smiles. 
 
 Fut, S'foot, Don, you talk too big, you make her 
 tremble. 
 Do you not see't imaginarily ? 
 
 Giterdnn^'] Reward. The word Pearls^ three lines aboTe, 
 must he road as a dissyilabic. 
 
 * Brave. ^ Gallaut, gorgeous, in reference to the attire Guz- 
 man is describing. 
 
 ^ As that apparel.'] I strongly suspect the omission of two 
 hcniistichs after these words. The text may however mean, 
 ^< which is most prubabie, at least to the full as likely as the ex. 
 istcncc of the apparel Guzman had been si>eaking of."
 
 SCENE I. THE LADY S TRIAL. 251 
 
 I do as plainly as you saw the death 
 Of the Austrian boar : she rather hears 
 Of feasting than of lighting ; take her that way. 
 Guz. \es, we will feast, my queen, my empress* 
 saint, 
 'Shalt taste no delicates but what are drest 
 With costlier spices than the Arabian bird 
 Sweetens her funeral bed with ; we will riot 
 With every change of meats ; which may renew 
 Our blood unto a spring, so pure, so high, 
 That from our pleasures shall proceed a race 
 Of sceptre-bearing princes, who at once 
 Must reign in every quarter of the globe. 
 
 Fut. Can more be said by one that feeds on her^ 
 ring 
 And garlick constantly \ 
 
 Guz. Yes we will feast 
 
 Fut. Enough, she's taken, and will love you now, 
 As well in buff, as your imagin'd bravery, 
 Your dainty ten-times drest buff; with this language. 
 Bold man of arms, shalt win upon her', doubt not, 
 Beyond all silken puppetry. Think no more 
 Of your mockadoes, callamancoes, quellios. 
 Pearl-larded caps and diamond-buttonM breeches; 
 Leave such poor outside helps to puling lovers. 
 Such as Fulgoso, your weak rival, is. 
 That starveling-brain'd companion : appear you, 
 At first at least, in your own warlike fashion : 
 I pray be rul'd, and change not a thread about you. 
 
 Guz. The humour takes ; for I, sir, am a man 
 Affects not shifts : I will adventure thus. 
 
 Fut. Why, so you carry her from all the world : 
 I'm proud my stars designed me out an instrument 
 In such an high employment. 
 
 ' Shall win upon her."] The slight alteration in the text was 
 essential in order to restore the sense of the passage.
 
 252 THE lady's trial. act II. 
 
 Guz, Gravely spoken ; 
 
 You may be proud on*t. 
 
 Enter Fulgoso and Piero, and walk on one side 
 of the stage. 
 
 Ful. What is lost is lost, 
 
 Money is trash, and ladies are et cceteras^ 
 Play's play, luck's luck, fortune's 1 know what' : 
 You see the worst of me, and what's all. this now ? 
 
 Piero. A very spark, I vow ; you will be stil'd 
 Fulgoso the invincible. IJut did 
 The fair Spinella lose an equal part I 
 How much in all d'you say ? 
 
 Ful. Bare threescore ducats, 
 
 Thirty a-piece, we need not care who know it. 
 She played, I went her half, walked by, and whist- 
 led 
 After my usual manner thus unmoved, [^IVhisiles. 
 As no such thing had ever been as it were, 
 Altho' 1 saw the winners share my money : 
 His lordship, and an honest gentleman 
 Purs' d it, but not so merrily as I 
 Whistled it off. [Whistles. 
 
 Piero. A noble confidence. 
 
 Flit. D'you note your rival ? 
 
 Guz. M^ith contempt I do. 
 
 F^ul. I can forego things nearer than my gold 
 Allied to my affections, and my blood ; 
 Yea honour, as it were, with the same kind 
 Of careless confidence, and come off fairly 
 Too, as it were. 
 
 Piero. But not your love, Fulgoso. 
 
 Ful. No, she's inherent, and mine own, past 
 losing. 
 
 ' Fortunes an / knov: not vAo/.] It was necessBrj horc to 
 make another rariation.
 
 SCENE I. THE LADy's TRIAL. 953 
 
 Piero. It tickles me to think with how much state. 
 You, as it were, did run at tilt in love 
 Before your Amoretta. 
 
 Fill. Broke my lance. 
 
 Fiero. Of wit, of wit. 
 
 FuL 1 mean so, as it were, 
 
 And laid, flat on her back, both horse and woman, 
 
 Piero. Right, as it were. 
 
 Ful. What else man, as it were ? 
 
 Gwr. Did you do this to her? dare you to vaunt 
 Your triumph, we being present? um, ha, um. 
 
 [FuLGOSO whistles the Spanish Paviti', 
 
 Fut. What think you, Don, of this brave man ! 
 
 Guz, A man ? 
 
 It is some truss of.reeds, or empty cask. 
 In which the wind with whistling sports itself. 
 
 Fut. Bear up, sir, he's your rival, budge not from 
 him 
 An inch ; your grounds are honour. 
 
 Piero. Stoutly ventured, 
 
 Don, hold him to't. 
 
 Ful. 'Protest, a fine conceit, 
 
 A very fine conceit ; and thus I told her, 
 That for mine own part, if she lik'd me, so, 
 If not, no ; for " my duck or doe," said I, 
 " It is no fault of mine that I am noble : 
 Grant it ; another may be noble, too, 
 And then we* re both one noble*;" better still 
 Habs-nabs ', good wink and choose ; if one must 
 have her, 
 
 ' The Spanish pavin.'] See Vol. I. p. 19. 
 
 " One noble.l A quibble upon the coin so called. 
 
 5 Hab-nab.'\ Generally spelt hob-nob, but the phrase, whicfr. 
 signifies, *' let it happen or [not, it is all one," occurs iu the 
 same manner in Ben Jonson's Tale of a Tub : 
 
 -" I put it 
 
 Ev'n to your worsiaips 'bttremcDt, hah-wA.
 
 254 THE lady's trial. act II. 
 
 The other goes without her, best of all ! 
 
 My spirit is too high to fight for woman, 
 
 1 am too full of mercy to be angry, 
 
 A foolish generous quality, from which 
 
 No might of man can beat me, I'm resolv'd '. 
 
 Guz. Hast thou a spirit then ? ha ? speaks thy 
 weapon 
 Toledo language, Bilboa, or dull Pisa * ? 
 If an Italian blade, or Spanish metal. 
 Be brief, we challenge answer. 
 
 Fut. Famous Don. 
 
 Ful. What does he talk ? my weapon speaks no 
 language, 
 'Tis a Dutch iron truncheon. 
 
 Guz. Dutch ? 
 
 Fut. And, if need be, 
 
 'Twill maul one's hide, in spite of who says nay. 
 
 Guz. Dutch to a Spaniard ! hold me. 
 
 Ful. Hold me too. 
 
 Sirrah, if thou'rt my friend, for I love no fighting ; 
 Yet hold me least in pity I fly off; 
 If I must fight, I must ; in a scurvy quarrel 
 I defy he's and she's. Twit me with Dutch ! 
 Hang Dutch and French, hang Spanish and Italians, 
 Christians and Turks. Pew-waw, all's one to mer 
 
 * No man can beat I'me, ime resoived."] So the old copy 
 reads. Risolvedy as has been before obserTed, means conTinccd, 
 satisfied. 
 
 * Speaks thy rceapon 
 
 Toledo language, Bilboa, or dull Pisa.] The two first of these 
 towns were celebrated for the excellent sword-blades raanufactur. 
 ed there. Only a Tcry common and coarse kind were produced 
 at Pisa. So in Beaumont and Fletcher's Custom of the Coun- 
 try : 
 
 -" I'll show yon 
 
 The difference between yoor Spanish rapier 
 And your pure Pisa." 
 
 It must be recollected that pure is here used ironically.
 
 SCENE I. THE LAD^'s TRIAL. 255 
 
 I know what's what, I know on which side 
 My bread is buttered. 
 
 Guz. Buttered I Dutch again : 
 
 You come not with the intention to affront us ? 
 Ful. Front me no fronts : if thou be'st angry, 
 squabble : 
 Here's my defence, and thy destruction. 
 
 [Whistles a charge. 
 If friends, shake hands, and go with me to dinner. 
 
 Guz. We will embrace the motion, it doth relish ; 
 The cavaliero treats on terms of honour. 
 Peace is not to be baulk'd on fair conditions. 
 Fut. Still Don is Don the great. 
 Piero. He shews the greatness 
 
 Of his vast stomach in the quick embracement 
 Of th' other's dinner. 
 
 Fut. 'Twas the ready means 
 
 To catch his friendship. 
 
 Piero. You're a pair of worthies, 
 
 That make the nine no wonder. 
 
 Fut. Now, since fate 
 
 Ordains that one of two must be the man, 
 The man of men which must enjoy alone 
 Love's darling, Amoretta, both take liberty 
 To shew himself before her, without cross 
 Of interruption, one of th' other: he 
 Whose sacred mystery of earthly blessings 
 Crowns the pursuit, be happy. 
 
 Piero And, till then, 
 
 Live brothers in society. 
 
 Guz. We are fast. 
 
 Ful. I vow a match : I'll feast the Don to-day 
 And fast with him to-morrow. 
 Gttz, Fair conditions.
 
 256 THE lady's TRIAL. ACT If. 
 
 Enter Adurm, Spinflla, Aaioretta, and 
 Castanna. 
 
 Adur. Futelli and Piero, follow speedily. 
 
 Piero. My lord we wait ye. 
 
 Fut. We shall soon return. 
 
 [Exeunt all but Ful. and Guz. 
 
 Ful. What's that ? I saw a sound. 
 
 Guz. A voice for certain. 
 
 Ful. It nam'd a lord. 
 
 Guz. Here are lords too, we take it ; 
 
 We carry blood about us, rich and haughty 
 As any of the twelve Caesars. 
 
 Ful. Gulls or Moguls, 
 
 Tag, rag, or other, hoger-mogen, vanden, 
 Skip-jacks, or chouses'. Whoo ! the brace are 
 
 flincht, 
 The pair of shavers are sneak'd from us, Don. 
 Why, what are we ? 
 
 Guz. The valiant will stand to't. 
 
 Ful. So say I, we will eat and drink, and squander. 
 Till all do split again. 
 
 Guz. March on with greediness. [_Exemif, 
 
 SCENE II. A Room in the House of Marti no. 
 
 Enter Martino and Levidolcue. 
 
 Mart. You cannot answer what a general tongue 
 Objects against your folly ; I may curse 
 The interest you lay claim to in my blood ; 
 
 * Chouses.~\ Fools, persons easily cheated. The word occurs 
 in Iludibras, and is still usual in the caut language, lloger. 
 mogcn, and vanden (properly hogen-mogen, and Tan.der) were 
 commonly used for ludicrously denoting a Dutchman.
 
 SCENE II. THE LADY's TRIAL. 2^7 
 
 Your mother, my dear niece, did die, I thought, 
 Too soon, but she is happy ; had she liv*d 
 Till now, and known the vanities your life ' 
 Hath dealt in, she had wish'd herself a grave 
 Before a timely hour. 
 
 Lev. Sir, consider 
 
 My sex ; were I mankind*, my sword should quit 
 A wounded honour, and reprieve a name 
 From injury, by printing on their bosoms 
 Some deadly character, whose drunken surfeits 
 Vomit such base aspersions : as I am. 
 Scorn and contempt is virtue ; my desert 
 Stands far above their malice. 
 
 Mart. Levidolche, 
 
 Hypocrisy puts on a holy robe. 
 Yet never changeth nature : call to mind, 
 How, in your girl's days, you fell, forsooth, 
 In love, and married, married (hark ye !) whom? 
 A trencher-waiter : shrewd preferment ! but 
 Your childhood then excused that fault : for so 
 Footmen have run away with lusty heirs. 
 And stable-grooms reach'd to some fair one's cham- 
 bers. 
 
 Lev. Pray let not me be bandied ^ sir, and baffled 
 By your intelligence. 
 
 Mart. So ! touch'd to the quick \ 
 
 Fine mistress, I will then rip up at length 
 The progress of your infancy : in colour 
 Of disagreement you must be divorc'd. 
 Were so, and 1 must countenance the reasons ; 
 On better hopes I did, nay, took you home, 
 
 ' The vanities of your life.'] So the quarto reads erroneous, 
 ly. 
 
 Mankind.'] See Vol. I. p. 172. Quit^ in the same line, 
 stands for quite, requite. 
 
 ' Bandied.] Skinner explains the rerb to bandy, totis viri- 
 bus se opponere. 
 
 VOL. II. R
 
 258 THE lady's trtal. act II. 
 
 Provided you, my care, nay, justified 
 
 Your alteration, joy'd to entertain 
 
 Such visitants of worth and rank as tendered 
 
 Civil respects ; but then, even then 
 Lev. What then \ 
 
 Sweet uncle do not spare me. 
 
 Mart. 1, more shame 
 
 To fear my hospitality was bawd, 
 
 And (name it so) to your unchaste desires, 
 
 Than you to hear and know it. 
 
 Lev. Whose whore am I ! 
 
 For that's your plainest meaning. 
 Mart. Were you modest, 
 
 The word you utter'd last would force a blush. 
 
 Adurni is a bounteous lord ; *tis said. 
 
 He parts with gold and jewels like a free 
 
 And liberal purchaser ; a' wriggles in 
 To ladies' pleasures by a right of pension ; 
 But you know none of this : you are grown a ta- 
 vern-talk. 
 Matter for fiddlers* songs. I toil to build 
 The credit of my family, and you 
 To pluck up the foundation. Even this morning, 
 Before the common-council, young Malfato 
 (Convented for some lands he held, suppos'd 
 Belong'd to certain orphans), as I question'd 
 His tenure in particulars, he answer'd. 
 My worship needed not to flaw his right ; 
 For if the humour held him, he could make 
 A jointure to my over-living niece, 
 Without oppression ; bade me tell her too, 
 She was a kind young soul, and might in time 
 Be sued to buy a loving man, no doubt. 
 Here was a jolly breakfast. 
 
 Lev. Uncles are privileged 
 
 More than our parents. Some wise man in state 
 Hath rectified, no doubt, your knowledge, sir,
 
 SCENE II. THE LJLDY*B TRIAL. S69 
 
 Whilst all the policy for public business 
 Was spent, for want of matter, I by chance 
 Fell into grave discourse ; but, by your leave, 
 I from a stranger's table rather wish 
 To earn my bread, than from a friend's by gift, 
 Be daily subject to unfit reproofs. 
 
 Mart. Come, come, to the point. 
 
 Lev. All the curses 
 
 Due to a ravisher of sober truth. 
 Dam up their graceless mouths ! 
 
 Mart. Now you turn rampant, 
 
 Just in the wenches* trim and garb ; these prayers 
 Speak your devotions purely. 
 
 Lev. Sir, alas ! \Weeps. 
 
 What would you have me do ? I have no orators. 
 More than my tears, to plead my innocence. 
 Since you forsake me, and are pleas' d to lend 
 An open ear against my honest fame. 
 'Would all their spite could harry' my contents 
 Unto a desperate ruin. Oh dear goodness ! 
 There is a right for wrongs. 
 
 Mart. There is ; but first 
 
 Sit in commission on your own defects. 
 Accuse yourself; be your own jury, judge. 
 And executioner : I make no sport 
 Of my vexation. 
 
 Lev. All the short remains 
 
 Of undesired life, shall only speak 
 The extremity of penance : your opinion 
 Enjoins it too. 
 
 Mart. Enough ; thy tears prevail 
 
 Against credulity. 
 
 Lev. My miseries, 
 
 * Harry.'] To harry is explained by Minshew, *' to tttrmoU^ 
 to TCX." So in Antony and Cleopatra, the latter says) 
 
 ^" I repent mc mucii, 
 
 That so I Aanyd him."
 
 260 THE LADV*S TRIAL. ACT II. 
 
 As in a glass, present me the rent face 
 Of an unguided youth. 
 Mart. No more. 
 
 Enter Trelcatio with a letter. 
 
 Trelcatio \ 
 Some business speeds you hither. 
 
 Trel. flappy news, 
 
 Signior Martino. Pray your ear ; my nephew, 
 Auria, hath done brave service: and I. hear 
 Let's be exceeding private is return'd 
 High in the duke of Florence's respects; 
 *Tis said, but make no words that a' has firked' 
 And mumbled the roguy Turks. 
 
 Mart. Why would you know 
 
 His merits so unknown ? 
 
 Trel. I am not yet 
 
 Confirm'd at full. Withdraw, and you shall read 
 All what this paper talks. 
 
 Mart. So. Levidolche, 
 
 You know our mind, be cheerful. Come, Trelcatio, 
 Causes of joy or grief, do seldom happen 
 Without companions near. Thy resolutions 
 Have given another birth to my contents. 
 
 [^Exeunt Mart, and Trel. 
 
 Lev. Even so, wise uncle, much good do ye. 
 Discovered ! 
 I could fly out, mix vengeance with my love. 
 Unworthy man, Malfato. My good lord. 
 My hot in blood, rare lord, grows cold too ; well, 
 Rise dotage into rage, and sleep no longer ; 
 Affection turned to hatred, threatens mischief. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 ' Firked.'] Amongst the namerous significations of this word 
 in old writingSj that which best saits the text is bealen.
 
 SCENE III. THE LADY S TRIAL. 261 
 
 SCENE III. An Apartment in Adurni's House. 
 Enter Piero, Amoretta, Futelli, and Cas- 
 
 TANNA, 
 
 Piero. In the next gallery you may behold 
 Such living pictures, lady, such rich pieces, 
 Of kings, and queens, and princes, that youM think 
 They breathe and smile upon you. 
 
 Amor. Ha* they crownths *, 
 
 Great crownths o'th* gold upon their headths? 
 
 Piero. Pure gold ; 
 
 Drawn all in state. 
 
 Amor. How many horthes, pray, 
 
 Are ith their chariots ? 
 
 Piero. Sixteen, some twenty. 
 
 Cast. My sister, wherefore left we her alone ? 
 Where stays she, gentlemen ? 
 
 Put. Viewing the rooms, 
 
 'Tis like you'll meet her in the gallery. 
 This house is full of curiosities, 
 Most fit for ladies' sights. 
 
 Amor. Yeth, yeth, the thight 
 
 Of printhethes ith a fine thight. 
 
 Ca^t. Good, let us find her. 
 
 Piero. Sweet ladies this way ; see the doors sure. 
 
 Put. Doubt not. [Exeunt. 
 
 Enter Adurni and Spinella. A Song within. 
 
 Pleasures, beauty ^ youth attend ye, 
 Whilst the spring of nature lasteth ; 
 
 Ha^ they crownths."] From the lisping of th6 conceited 
 Amoretta, it would seem as if that accomplishment had heea. as 
 fashionable in Ford's times as it is in ours.
 
 262 THE lady's trial. act. II. 
 
 Love and melting thoughts attend ye^ 
 Use the time, ere winter ha^teth. 
 
 Active blood, and free delight, 
 
 Place and privacy invite. 
 X)o, do ! he kind affair. 
 Lose not opportunity for air '. 
 
 She is cruel that denies it, 
 .,^ ; . Bounty best appears in granting. 
 Stealth of sport as soon supplies it. 
 Whilst the dues of love are wanting. 
 Heres the sweet exchange of bliss, 
 When each whisper proves a kiss. 
 In the game are felt 710 pains, 
 For in all the loser gains, 
 
 Adur. Plead not, fair creature, without sense of 
 
 So incompassionately 'gainst a service, 
 In nothing faulty more than pure obedience \ 
 My honours and my fortunes are led captives 
 In triumph, by your all-commanding beauty ; 
 And if you ever felt the power of love. 
 The rigour of an uncontrolled passion. 
 The tyranny of thoughts, consider mine, 
 In some proportion, by the strength of yours ; 
 Thus may you yield and conquer. 
 .'Spin. Do not study, 
 
 My lord, to apparel folly in the stead * 
 Of costly colours ; henceforth cast off far, 
 
 * Lose not opporiunily for air.] The latter word must, in 
 the present instance, signify haughty, affectation of virtue. 
 
 * ^ to apparel folly in the steed 
 
 Of costly colours.'] The word stead is probably a corrup- 
 tion ; but no alteration has been made, as it may be a substantitc, 
 formed according to the licentious use of language in the times 
 of our author, from the verb to bestead^ <*. e. to profit, io advan-
 
 SCENE III. XHE LADY S TRIAL. 263 
 
 Far from your noblest nature, the contempt 
 Of goodness, and be gentler to your fame. 
 By purchase of a life to grace your story. 
 
 Adur. Dear, how sweetly 
 Reproof drops from that balmy spring your breath ! 
 Now could 1 read a lecture of my griefs, 
 Un-earth a mine of jewels at your foot. 
 Command a golden shower to rain down, 
 Impoverish every kingdom of the east, 
 Which traffics richest clothes, and silks, would you 
 Vouchsafe one, unspleenM chiding to my riot : 
 Else such a sacrifice can but beget 
 Suspicion of returns to my devotion. 
 In mercenary blessings ; for that saint 
 To whom I vow myself, must never want 
 Fit offerings to her altar. 
 
 Spin. Auria, Auria, 
 
 Fight not for name abroad ; but come, my husband. 
 Fight for thy wife at home ! 
 
 Adur, Oh, never rank 
 
 (Dear cruelty) one that is sworn your creature. 
 Amongst your country's enemies ; I use 
 No force, but humble words, delivered from 
 A tongue that's secretary to my heart. 
 
 Spin. How poorly some, tame to their wild de- 
 sires. 
 Fawn on abuse of virtue ! Pray, my lord. 
 Make not your house my prison. 
 
 Adur. Grant a freedom 
 
 To him who is the bondman to your beauty. 
 
 [^A noise within. 
 
 Enter Aurelio, Castanna, Amoretta, Futel- 
 n, and Piero. 
 
 Aurel. Keep back ye close contrivers of false plea- 
 sures, 
 Or I shall force ye back ! Can it be possible ?
 
 264 THE LADY*S TRIA^. ACT II. 
 
 Lock'd up, and singly too ? chaste hospitality ! 
 A banquet in a bed-chamber? Adurni, 
 Dishonourable man ! 
 
 Adur. What sees this rudeness, 
 
 That can broach scandal here? 
 
 Aurel. For you, hereafter. 
 
 Oh, woman, lost to every brave report ! 
 Thy wronged Auria is come home with glory; 
 Prepare a welcome to uncrown the greatness 
 Of his prevaihng fates. 
 
 Spiyi. Whilst you, belike, 
 
 Are furnish'd with some news for entertainment, 
 Which must become your friendship, to be knit 
 More fast betwixt your souls, by my removal, 
 Both from his heart and memory. 
 
 Adur. Rich conquest. 
 
 To triumph on a lady's injured fame, 
 Without a proof or warrant ! 
 
 Fut. Have I life, sir. 
 
 Faith, Christianity \ 
 
 Fiero, Put me on the rack, 
 The wheel, or the gallies, if 
 
 Aurel. Peace, factors 
 
 In merchandize of scorn ! your sounds are deadly. 
 Castanna, I could pity your consent 
 To such ignoble practice, but I find 
 Coarse fortunes easily seduc'd, and herein 
 All claim to goodness ceases. 
 
 Cast. Use your tyranny. 
 
 Spin. What rests behind tor me ? out with it ! 
 
 Aurel. Horror ! 
 
 Becoming such a forfeit of obedience. 
 Hope not that any falsity in friendship 
 Can paUiate a broken faith, it dares not. 
 Leave, in thy prayers, lair, vow-breaking wanton, 
 To dress thy soul new, whose purer whiteness 
 Is sullied by thy change from truth to folly.
 
 5CENE III. THE lady's TRIAL. 96S 
 
 A fearful storm is hovering ; it will fall ; 
 
 No shelter can avoid it : let the guilty 
 
 Sink under their own ruin. [Exit. 
 
 Spin, How unmanly ! 
 
 His anger threatens mischief! 
 
 Amor, Whom, I pr'ythee, 
 
 Doth the man speak to! 
 
 Adur. Lady, be not movM ; 
 
 I will stand champion for your honour, hazard 
 All what is dearest to me. 
 
 Spin. Mercy, heaven ! 
 
 Champion for me, and Auria living? Auria ! 
 He lives, and, for my guard, my innocence. 
 As free as are my husband's clearest thoughts, 
 Shall keep off vain constructions. 1 must beg 
 Your charities; sweet sister, your's, to leave me ; 
 I need no fellows now. Let me appear, 
 Or mine own lawyer, or in open court. 
 Like some forsaken client, in my suit 
 oI3e cast for want of honest plea. Oh, misery ! 
 
 \_Exit, 
 
 Adur, Her resolution's violent. Quickly follow. 
 
 Cast, By no means, sir ; you've followed her al- 
 ready, 
 I fear, with too much ill success, in trial 
 Of unbecoming courtesies ; your welcome 
 Ends in so sad a farewell. 
 
 Adur. 1 will stand 
 
 The roughness of th* encounter, like a gentleman, 
 And wait ye to your homes, whatever befal me. 
 
 [^Exeunt.
 
 ^66 THE LADY*S TRIAL. ACT III 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 SCENE I. A Street before the House of Mar- 
 ti no, with a Balcony. 
 
 , Enter Fulgoso and Guzman. 
 
 Ful. I say, Don, brother mine, win her and wear 
 her. 
 And so will I ; if't be my luck to lose her, 
 I lose a pretty wench, and there's the worst on't. 
 
 Guz. Wench said ye? most mechanically ! faugh! 
 Wench is your trull, your blowze', your dowdie; 
 
 but. 
 Sir brother, he who names my queen of love 
 Without his bonnet vail'd, or saying grace. 
 As at some paranymphal feast, is rude. 
 Nor versM in literature. Dame Amoretta, 
 Lo, I am sworn thy champion ! 
 
 Ful. So am I too, 
 
 Can as occasion serves, if she turn scurvy, 
 Unswear myself again, and ne'er change colours. 
 Pish, man ! the best, though call 'em ladies, ma- 
 dams. 
 Fairs, fines, and honies, are but flesh and blood, 
 And now and then too, when the fit's come on *em. 
 Will prove themselves but flirts, and tirliry-pufkins. 
 
 Chez. Our choler must advance. 
 
 Ful. Dost long for a beating? 
 
 Shall's try a slash ? here's that shall do't : I'll tap 
 
 [^Draws. 
 
 * Biotne. ] A Tulgar term for a ruddy country girl. The terra 
 tirlinj-pufkins, which occurs lower down, was probably a cant 
 word for strumpets at the time. It may have been formed from 
 puffiiif a kind of watcr.fowl.
 
 SCENE I. THE LADY*S TRIAL. 267 
 
 A gallon of thy brains, and fill thy hogshead 
 With two of wine for*t. 
 
 Guz. Not in friendship, brother. 
 
 FuL Or whistle thee into an ague. Hang it ! 
 Be sociable ; drink till we roar and scratch ; 
 Then drink ourselves asleep again. The fashion ! 
 Thou dost not know the fashion. 
 
 (tmz. Her fair eyes. 
 
 Like to a pair of pointed beams drawn from 
 The sun's most glorious orb, do dazzle sight, 
 Audacious to gaze there ; then over those 
 A several bow of jet securely twines 
 In semicircles ; under them two banks 
 Of roses red and white, divided by 
 An arch of polish'd ivory, surveying 
 A temple from whence oracles proceed, 
 More gracious than Apollo's, more desir'd 
 Than amorous songs of poets, softly tun'd. 
 
 Ful. Heyday ! what's this I 
 
 Guz, Oh ! but those other parts. 
 
 All 
 
 Ful. Ain Hold there, I bar play under board, 
 My part yet lies therein ; you never saw 
 The things you wire-draw thus. 
 
 Guz. I have dreamt 
 
 Of every part about her, can lay open 
 Her several inches, as exactly mark it 
 As if I had took measure with a compass, 
 A rule, or yard, from head to foot. 
 
 Ful. Oh, rare! 
 
 And all this in a dream? 
 
 Guz, A very dream. 
 
 Ful. My waking brother soldier is turn'd 
 Into a sleeping carpenter or taylor, 
 Which goes for half a man. What's he? bear up !
 
 268 THE lady's trial.' act III. 
 
 Enter Benatzi, as an outlaw. Levidolche 
 abovCy appearing on the balcony. 
 
 Ben. Deatli of reputation, the wheel, strappado, 
 gallies, rack, are ridiculous t'oppferies; goblins to 
 fright babies. Poor lean-soul'd rogues! they will 
 swoon at the scar of a pin : one tear dropp'd from 
 their harlot's eyes breeds earthquakes in their 
 bones. 
 
 Ful. Bless us ! a monster, patchM of dagger-bom- 
 bast. 
 His eyes like copper-basons ; a' has chang'd 
 Hair with a shag-do?. 
 
 Guz. Let us then avoid him, 
 
 Or stand upon our guard ; the foe approaches. 
 
 Ben. Cut-throats, by the score, abroad, come 
 home, and rot in fripperies'. Brave man at arms, 
 go turn pandar, do ; stalk for a mess of warm broth. 
 Damnable I honourable cuts are but badges for a 
 fool to vaunt; the raw-ribb'd apothecary poisons 
 cmn privilegioy and is paid. Oh, the common- 
 wealth of beasts is most politickly ordered ! 
 
 Guz. Brother, we'll keep aloof, there is no valour 
 In tugging with a man-fiend. 
 
 Ful. I defy him. 
 
 It gabbles like I know not what, believe it, 
 The fellow's a shrewd fellow at a pink *. 
 
 * Rot in fripperies.'] 1 susi)ect we should read rto/. A frip. 
 pcry is a wurd derived from the French, and signifies an old 
 clothes. shop. In Massinger's City Madam, Goldwirs, at the ap. 
 proacii of Luke, dressed out '^ with garters, fans, and roses,*' 
 exclaims, 
 
 M Hore lie comes, gweatinz all ovor : 
 He shcw.t like a v/dlkhv^ frippery." 
 
 * This fclloic's a shreisd felloic at a pink.] It is difficult to 
 guess at the precise meaning of this expression. Pink is used in 
 the scusc of supremely excellent, but that cannot apply here. 
 VoT that reason, 1 strongly usi)ect we should read punkj though 
 the text has not been disturbed, as it frcqucutly happens th^t a
 
 SCENE I. TE LAD\''S TRIAL. 269 
 
 Ben. Look else, the lion roars, and the spaniel 
 fawns : down, cur! The badger bribes the unicorn, 
 that a jury may not pass upon his pillage. Here the 
 bear fees the wolf, for he will not howl gratis ; 
 beasts call pleading howling. So then, there the 
 horse complains of the ape's rank riding : the jockey 
 makes mouths, but is fin'd for it : the stag is not 
 jeer'd by the monkey for his horns ; the ass by the 
 hare for his burthen ; the ox by the leopard for his 
 yoke ; nor the goat by the ram for his beard : only 
 the fox wraps himself warm in beaver, bids the cat 
 mouse, the elephant toil, the boar gather acorns ; 
 while he grins, feeds fat, tells tales, laughs at all, 
 and sleeps safe at the lion's feet. Save ye, people. 
 
 Ful. Why, save thee too, if thou be'st of Hea- 
 ven's making : 
 What art ! Fear nothing Don, we have our blades. 
 Are metal men ourselves, try us who dare. 
 
 Guz. Our brother speaks our mind, think what 
 you please on't. 
 
 Ben. A match : observe well this switch ; with 
 this only switch have I pash'd' out the brains of 
 thirteen Turks to the dozen, for a breakfast. 
 
 Ful. What, man] thirteen! is't possible thou 
 liest not? 
 
 Ben. I was once a scholar, then I begg'd without 
 pity : from thence 1 practis'd law, there a scruple 
 of conscience popp'd me over the bar: a soldier I 
 turn'd a while, but could not procure the letter of 
 preferment. Merchant I would be, and a glut of 
 
 word has been found unnecessarily altered by the discovery of 
 some other meaning suiting the text, and unknown to the editor 
 who introduced such alteration. 
 
 ' Pash'd.'] An obsolete word, which frequently occurs in 
 old writings, signifying crushed to pieces by a violent blow. 
 Poshing has already occurred in the Lover's Melancholy, Vol. I. 
 p. 125.
 
 270 THE LADY*S TRIAL. ACX III. 
 
 land-rats gnaw'd me to the bones ; would have 
 bought an office, but the places with reversions 
 were catch'd up ; offered to pass into the court, 
 and wanted trust for clothes ; was lastly, for my 
 good parts, prest into the gallies, took prisoner, re- 
 deemed amongst other slaves by your gay great 
 man, they call him Auria; and am now 1 know 
 not who, where, or what. How d'ye like me I 
 say. 
 
 Ful. A shaver of all trades. What course of life 
 Dost mean to follow next ? Ha! speak thy mind. 
 
 Guz. Nor be thou daunted, fellow : we ourselves 
 Have felt the frowns of fortune in our days. 
 
 Ben. I want extremely, exceedingly, hideously. 
 
 Lev. Take that, enjoy it freely, wisely use it, 
 
 [Throws a purse, 
 Th' advantage of thy fate, and know the giver. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Ful. Heyday! a purse in troth, who droppM? 
 stay, stay, 
 Humph, have we gipsies here? Oh, mine is fafe : 
 Is*t your purse, brother Don ? 
 
 Guz. Not mine ; I seldom 
 
 Wear such unfashionable trash about me. 
 
 Ful. Hast any money in it, honest blade ? 
 A bots on empty purses ' . 
 
 Guz. We defy them. 
 
 Ben. Stand from about me, as you arc mortal ! 
 You are dull clod-pated lumps of mire and garbish. 
 This is the land of fairies. Imperial queen of elves, 
 I do croutch to thee [kneels\ vow my services, my 
 blood, my sinews to thee, sweet sovereign of lar- 
 gess *, and liberality. A French tailor neat ; 
 
 ' A bots on empty purses.'\ The bots are a kind of worms 
 that breed in horses. Mr Malone observes, that ^' this common 
 execration was formerly used in the room of one less decent." 
 
 * Largess."} See page 51 of this ?olume. 
 9
 
 SCENE I. THE LADY*S TRIAL. QJl 
 
 Persian cook dainty! Greek wines rich; 
 Flanders' mares stately ; Spanish sallads, poi- 
 gnant ; Venetian wanton, ravishing ; English 
 bawd unmatchable. Sirs, I am fitted. 
 
 Ful. All these thy followers'! miserable pigmies! 
 Prate sense and don't be mad. I like thy humour, 
 *Tis pretty odd, and so, as one might say, 
 I care not greatly if I entertain thee. 
 Dost want a master 1 if thou dost I am for thee : 
 Else choose, and sneak up. Pish, I scorn to flinch 
 man. 
 Guz. Forsake not fair advancement ; money, 
 certes, 
 Will fleet and drop off, like a cozening friend ; 
 Who holds it, holds a slippery eel by th' tail, 
 Unless he gripe it fast: be rul'd by counsel. 
 
 Ben. Excellent ! what place shall I be admitted 
 to ! Chamber, wardrobe, cellar, or stable ] 
 
 Ful. Why, one and all; thou' rt welcome, let's 
 shake hands on't. 
 Thy name? 
 
 Ben. Parado, sir. 
 Ful. The great affairs 
 
 I shall employ thee most in, will be news, 
 And telling what's a clock, for ought I know yet. 
 
 Ben. It is, sir, to speak punctually some hour 
 and half, eight three thirds of two seconds of one 
 minute over at most, sir. 
 
 Ful. I do not ask thee now, or if I did, 
 
 We are not much the wiser, and for news 
 
 Ben, Auria, the fortunate, is this day to be re- 
 ceiv'd with great solemnity at the city council- 
 house ; the streets are already throng'd with look- 
 ers on, 
 
 Ful. That's well remember'd. Brother Don, let's 
 trudge, 
 Or we shall come too late.
 
 272 THE LADY*S TRIAL. ACT III. 
 
 Guz. By no means, brother. 
 
 Ful. Wait close, my ragged new-come. 
 
 Ben. As your shadows. [Exit. 
 
 SCENE \\. Another Street. 
 
 Enter Auria, Adurni, Martino, Trelcatio, 
 AuRELio, PiERO, FuTELLi, With followers and 
 spectators. 
 
 Aur. Your favours, with these honours, speak 
 your bounties; 
 And though the low deserts of my success 
 Appear, in your constructions, fair and goodly. 
 Yet I attribute to a noble cause. 
 Not my abilities, the thanks due to them. 
 The duke of Florence hath too highly priz'd 
 My duty in my service, by example, 
 Rather to cherish and encourage virtue, 
 In spirits of action, than to crown the issue 
 Of feeble undertakings. Whilst my life 
 Can stand in use, I shall no longer rate it 
 In value, than it stirs to pay that debt 
 I owe my country for my birth and fortunes. 
 
 Mart. Which to make good, our state of Genoa^ 
 Not willing that a native of her own, 
 So able for her safety, should take pension 
 From any other prince, hath cast upon you 
 The government of Corsica. 
 
 Trel. Adds thereto. 
 
 Besides th' allowance yearly due, for ever, 
 To you and to your heirs, the full revenue 
 Belonging to Savona, with the office 
 Of admiral of Genoa. 
 
 Adur, Presenting
 
 SCENE II. THE LADy's TRIAL. 273 
 
 By my hands, from their public treasury, 
 A thousand ducats. 
 
 Mart. But they limit only 
 
 One month of stay for your dispatch ; no more. 
 
 Fut. In all your great attempts, may you grow 
 thrifty. 
 Secure, and prosperous. 
 
 Fiero. If you please to rank. 
 
 Amongst the humblest, one that shall attend 
 Instructions under your command, I am 
 Ready to wait the charge. 
 
 Aur. Oh, still the state 
 
 Engageth me her creature, with the burthen 
 Unequal for my weakness. To you, gentlemen, 
 I will prove friendly honest, of all mindful. 
 
 Adur. Jn memory, my lord, (such is your style 
 now). 
 Of your late fortunate exploits, the council. 
 Amongst their general acts, have registered 
 The great-duke's letters, witness of your merit, 
 To stand in characters upon record. 
 
 Aur. Load upon load : let not my want of mo- 
 desty 
 Trespass against good manners. I must study 
 Retirement to compose this weighty business. 
 And moderately digest so large a plenty. 
 For fear it swell into a surfeit. 
 
 Adur. May I 
 
 Be bold to press a visit \ 
 
 Aur. At your pleasure : 
 
 Good time of day, and peace. 
 
 All. KTealth to your lordship. 
 
 [Exeunt all but Adur. and Fut. 
 
 Adur. What of Spinella yet ? 
 
 Fut. Quite lost; no prints, 
 
 Or any tongue of tracing her. However 
 
 VOL. II. s
 
 274 THE lady's TRIAL. ACT III, 
 
 Matters are huddled up, I doubt, my lord. 
 Her husband carries little peace about him. 
 
 Adur. FalLdanger what tall can, she is a good- 
 ness 
 Above temptation, more to be ador'd 
 Than sitted ; I'm to blame, sure. 
 
 Fat. Levidolche, 
 
 For her part too, laugh'd at Maltato's frenzy, 
 (Just so she term'd it) ; but for you, my lord, 
 She said she thank' d your charity, which lent 
 Her crooked soul, before it left her body, 
 Some respite, wherein it might learn again 
 The means of growing straight. 
 
 Adur, She has found mercy. 
 
 Which I will seek, and sue for. 
 
 Fut. You are happy. [Exit. 
 
 SCENE HI. A Room in the House 0/ Auria. 
 
 Enter Auria and Aurelio. 
 
 Aur. Count of Savona, Genoa's admiral, 
 Lord governor of Corsica, enroll'd 
 A worthy of my country, sought and sued to, 
 Prais'd, courted, flatter d! Sure this bulk of mine, 
 'Tails in the size a tympany of greatness'. 
 Puffs up too monstrously my narrow chest. 
 
 ' $ure this bulk of mine 
 Tayles in the size a tympantj of greatness.^ Bulk here, as 
 in innumerable passages of old plays, means body. The verb 
 tail, in the second line, is uscil in so singular a manner, that wc 
 might suspect it to be a misprint for suellsf if the incorrect 
 phraseology of Ford and his contemporaries did not make it pro- 
 bable that tail might be abbrcriated from entailj to transmit, to 
 hare the effect, &c. 
 
 11
 
 SCENE III. THE LADY*S TRIAL. S?^ 
 
 How surely dost thou malice ' these extremes, 
 Uncomfortable man ? when I was needy, 
 Cast naked on the flats ot barren pity, 
 Abated to an ebb so low, that boys 
 A cock-horse frisk' d about me ; without plunge, 
 You could chat gravely then, in lormal tones, 
 Reason most paradoxically: now. 
 Contempt and wilful grudge at my uprising 
 Becalms your learned noise. 
 
 Aurel. Such flourish, Auria, 
 
 Flies with so swift a gale^ as it will waft 
 Thy sudden joys into a faithless harbour. 
 
 Aur. Canst mutter mischief? I observ'd your 
 dulness, 
 Whilst the whole ging crowd to me. Hark ! my 
 
 triumphs 
 Are echo*d under every roof, the air 
 Is straitened with the sound, there is not room 
 Enough to brace them in, but not a thought 
 Doth pierce into the grief that cabins here ; 
 Here, through a creek, a little inlet, crawls 
 A flake, no bigger than a sister's thread, 
 Which sets the region of my heart a-fire. 
 I had a kingdom once, but am depos'd 
 From all that royalty of blest content, 
 By a confederacy 'twixt love and frailty. 
 
 Aurel. Glories in public view, but add to misery, 
 Which travails in unrest at home. 
 
 Aur. At home? 
 
 That home Aurelio speaks of I have lost. 
 And, which is worse, when I have roH'd about, 
 Toil'd like a pilgrim round this globe of earth, 
 Wearied with care, and overworn with age, 
 Lodg'd in the grave, I am not yet at home : 
 
 ^ How surely dost thou malice these extremes.'] Malice U a. 
 Tcrb in this place, and is used as such by Spenser, in the sense of 
 regarding with ill-will. Extremes, in the text, refers to the ex- 
 treme honours which had been so liberally bestowed upon Auri.
 
 276 THE lady's trial. act III. 
 
 There rots but half of me, the other part 
 
 Sleeps, Heaven knows where. * Would she and I 
 
 my wiie 
 I mean, but what, alas! talk I of wife? 
 The woman, 'would we had together fed 
 On any outcast parings, coarse and mouldy. 
 Not livM divided thus; 1 could have begg'd 
 For both, for't had been j)ity she should ever 
 Have felt so much extremity. 
 
 Aurel. This is not 
 
 Patience requir'd in wrongs of such vile nature. 
 You pity her \ think rather on revenge. 
 
 Aur. Revenge ! for what, uncharitable friend \ 
 On whom? let's speak a little, pray, with reason; 
 You found Spinella in Adurni's house; 
 'Tis like he gave her welcome very likely : 
 Her sister and another with her, so 
 Invited; nobly done: but he with her 
 Privately chamber'd! he deserves no wife 
 Of worthy quality, who dares not trust 
 Her virtue in the proofs of any danger. 
 
 Aurel. But 1 broke ope the doors upon 'em. 
 
 Aur. Marry, 
 
 It was a slovenly presumption. 
 And punishable by a sharp rebuke. 
 I tell you, sir, 1, in my younger growth, 
 Have by the stealth of privacy enjoy'd 
 A lady's closet, where to have profan'd 
 That si)rine of chastity and innocence. 
 With one unhallowed word, would have exil'd 
 The freedom of such favour into scorn. 
 Had any he alive then ventured there, 
 With foul construction, I had stampt the justice 
 Of my unguilty truth upon his heart. 
 
 Aurel. Adurni might have done the like, but that 
 The conscience of his fault, in coward blood, 
 Blush'd at the quick surprisal.
 
 SCENE III. THE EADY's TRIAL. t77 
 
 Aur. O fie, fie ! 
 
 How ill some argue, in their sour reproof. 
 Against a party liable to law ! 
 For had that lord offended with that creature. 
 Her presence would have doubled every strength 
 Of man in him, and justified the forfeit 
 Of noble shame ; else, 'twas enough in both 
 With a smile only to correct your rudeness. 
 
 Aurel. 'Tis well you make such use of neigh- 
 bours* courtesy : 
 Some kind of beasts are tame, and hug their inju- 
 ries : 
 Such way leads to a fame too. 
 
 Aur. Not uncivilly, 
 
 Though violently, friend. 
 
 Aurel. Wherefore, then, think ye, 
 
 Can she absent herself, if she be blameless \ 
 You grant, of course, your triumphs are proclaimed ; 
 And 1 in person told her your return. 
 Where lies she hid the while ? 
 
 Aur. That rests for answer 
 
 I n you ; now I come to you : we have exchanged 
 Bosoms, Aurelio, from our years of childhood ; 
 Let me acknowledge with what pride I own 
 A man so faithful, honest, fast, my friend; 
 He, whom if I speak fully, never faiTd, 
 By teaching trust to me, to learn of mine; 
 I wished myself thine equal ; if I aim'd 
 A wrong, 'twas in an envy of thy goodness; 
 So dearly (witness with me my integrity) ^ 
 I laid thee up to heart, that, from my love, 
 My wife was but distinguish'd in her sex : 
 Give back that holy signature of friendship, 
 CanceU'd, defaced, pluckM off, or I shall urge, " 
 Accounts scor'd on the tally of my vengeance, 
 Without all former compliments. 
 
 Aurel, D'you imagine
 
 978 THE LADY*S TRIAL. ACT III. 
 
 I fawn upon your fortunes, or intrude 
 
 Upon the )iope of bettering my estate, 
 
 That you cashier me at a minute's warning ? 
 
 No, Auria, I dare vie with your respects ; 
 
 Put both into the balance, and the poise 
 
 Shall make a settled stand : perhaps the proffer, 
 
 So frankly vow*d at your departure first. 
 
 Of settling me a partner in your purchase, 
 
 Leads you into opinion of some ends 
 
 Of mercenary falsehood ; yet such wrong 
 
 Least suits a noble soul. 
 
 Aur. By ail my sorrows, 
 
 The mention is too coarse ! 
 
 Aurel. Since then th' occasion 
 
 Presents our discontinuance, use your liberty : 
 For my part, 1 am resolute to die 
 The same my life profess'd me. 
 
 Atir. Pish ! your faith 
 
 Was never in suspicion ; but consider. 
 Neither the lord, nor lady, nor the bawd, 
 Which shuffled them together. Opportunity, 
 Have fast'ned stain on my unquestion'd name ; 
 My friend's rash indiscretion was the bellows 
 Which blew the coal, now kindled to a flame, 
 Will light his slander to all wand'ring eyes. 
 Some men in giddy zeal o'er-do that office 
 They catch at, of whose number is Aurelio : 
 For 1 am certain, certain, it had been 
 Impossible, had yoU stood wisely silent. 
 But my Spinella, trembling on her knee. 
 Would have accus'd her breach of truth, and begg'd 
 A speedy execution on her trespass : 
 Then with a justice, lawful as the magistrates, 
 Might 1 have drawn my sword against Adurni, 
 Which now is sheath'd and rusted in the scabbard, 
 Good thanks to your cheap providence. Once more 
 1 make demand my wifie ! you, sir^ [^Draws.
 
 SCENE III. THE LADY S TRIAL. ^JQ 
 
 Aurel. Roar louder ; 
 
 The noise aifrights not me: threaten your enemies, 
 And prove a vaiiant tongue-man. Now must follow, 
 By way of method, the exact condition 
 Of rage which runs to mutiny in friendship. 
 Auria, come on, this weapon looks not pale 
 
 [Draws. 
 At sight of that. Again hear, and believe it, 
 What 1 have done, was well done and well meant ; 
 Twenty times over, were it new to do, 
 I'd do*t and do't, and boast the pains religious ; 
 Yet since you shake me off, 1 slightly value 
 Other severity. 
 
 Aur. Honour and duty 
 
 Stand my compurgators ! never did passion 
 Purpose ungentle usage of my sword 
 Against Aurelio; let me rather vi^ant 
 My hands, nay, friend, a heart, than ever suffer 
 Such dotage enter here. If 1 must lose 
 Spinella, let me not proceed to misery, 
 By losing my Aurelio. We, through madness. 
 Frame strange conceits, in our discoursing* brains, 
 And prate of things as we pretend they were. 
 Join help to mine, good man, and let us listen 
 After this straying soul, and, till we find her, 
 Bear our discomfort quietly. 
 
 Aurel. So, doubtless, 
 
 She may be soon discover' d. 
 
 Aur. That's spoke cheerfully. 
 
 Why there's a friend now ! Auria and Aurelio 
 At odds! Oh, it cannot be, must not, and shall 
 not. 
 
 Enter Castanna. 
 
 But look, Castanna's here. Welcome fair figure 
 
 ' Discoursing.'] Thinking, reasoning; an old sense of the 
 word.
 
 2S0 THE lady's trial. ACT III. 
 
 Of a choice jewel, lock'd up in a cabinet, 
 
 More precious than the public view should sully. 
 
 Cant. Sir, how you are informed, or on what 
 terms 
 Of prejudice against my course or custom, 
 Opinion sways your confidence, 1 know not. 
 Much anger, if my fears persuade not falsely, 
 Sits on this gentleman's stern brow; yet, sir, 
 If an unhappy maid's word may find credit, 
 As 1 wish harm to nobody on earth. 
 So 'would all good folks may wish none to me ! 
 
 Aur. None does, sweet sister. 
 
 Cast. If they do, " dear Heaven 
 
 Forgive them," is my prayer; but, perhaps, 
 You might conceive (and yet methinks you should 
 
 not) 
 How I am faulty in my sister's absence: 
 Indeed 'tis nothing so, nor was I knowing 
 Of any private speech my lord intended. 
 Save civil entertainment. Pray, what hurt 
 Can fall out in discourse, if it be modest ? 
 Sure noblemen will shew that they are such 
 With those of their own rank ; and that was all 
 My sister can be charg'd with. 
 
 Aur. Is't not, friend. 
 
 An excellent maid? 
 
 Aurel. Deserves the best of fortunes ; 
 
 I ever spoke her virtuous. 
 
 Cast. With your leave. 
 
 You us'd most cruel language to my sister, 
 Enough to fright her wits; not very kind 
 To me myself; she sigh'd when you were gone, 
 Desir'd no creature else should follow her; 
 And in good truth, I was so full of weeping, 
 I raark'd not well which way she went. 
 
 Aur. Staid she not 
 
 Within the house then ?
 
 SCENE IV. THE LADY's TRIAL. 281 
 
 Cast. 'Las, not she ! Aurelio 
 
 Was passing rough. 
 
 Aur. Strange ! nowhere to be found out I 
 
 Cast. Not yet ; but on my life, ere many hours, 
 I shall hear from her. 
 
 Aur. Shalt thou 1 worthy maid, 
 
 Thou hast brought to my sick heart a cordial. Friend, 
 Good news ! Most sweet Castanna ! 
 
 Aurel. May it prove so. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IV. ^ Street. 
 
 Enter Benatzi, as before. 
 
 Ben. The paper in the purse for my directions 
 appointed this the place, the time now ; here dance 
 1 attendance She is come already. 
 
 ^M^er Levidolche. 
 
 Lev. Parado; so I overheard you nam*d. 
 
 Ben. A mushroom, sprung up in a minute, by 
 the sunshine of your benevolent grace, liberality, 
 and hospitable compassion, most magnificent beau- 
 ty. * Have long since lain bed -rid in the ashes of 
 the old world, till now your illustrious charity hath 
 rak'd up the dead embers, by giving life to a worm 
 inevitably devoted yours, as you shall please to 
 new-shape me. 
 
 Lev. A grateful man, it seems. Where gratitude 
 Has harbour, other furniture, becoming 
 Accomplished qualities, must needs inhabit. 
 What country claims your birth? 
 
 Ben. None ; 1 was born at sea, as my mother 
 was in passage from Cape Ludugory to Cape Cag- 
 liari, toward Afric, in Sardinia ; wa^ bred up in 
 Aquilastro, and, at years, put myself in service un^
 
 ^S2 THE lady's trial. ACT III. 
 
 der the Spanish viceroy. Till 1 was taken prisoner 
 by the Turks, I have tasted in my days handsome 
 store of good and bad, and am thankful tor both. 
 
 Lev. You seem the issue, then, oi honest parents. 
 
 Ben. Reputed no less. Many children olten- 
 times inherit their lands, who peradventure ne^ er 
 begot them. My mother's husband was a very old 
 man at my birth, but no man is too old to father 
 his wife's child. Your servant, 1 am sure, I will 
 ever prove myself entirely. 
 
 Lev. Dare you be secret ? 
 
 Ben. Yes. 
 
 Lev. And sudden? 
 
 Ben. Yes. 
 
 Lev. But, withal, sure of hand and spirit? 
 
 Ben. Yes, yes, yes. 
 
 Lev. 1 use not many words, the time prevents *em : 
 A man of quality has robb'd mine honour. 
 
 Ben. Name him. 
 
 Lev. Adurni. 
 
 Ben. *A shall bleed. 
 
 Lev. Malfato contemn 'd my proffered love. 
 
 Ben. Yoke 'era in death. What's my reward \ 
 
 Lev. Propose it, and enjoy it. 
 
 Ben. You for my wife. 
 
 Lev. Ha ! 
 
 Ben. Nothing else : deny me, 
 
 And I'll betray your counsels to your ruin ; 
 Else do the feat couragiously. Consider. 
 
 Lev. I do : dispatch the task I have enjoin'd, 
 Then claim my promise. 
 
 Ben. No such matter, pretty one, 
 
 We'll marry first, or Farewell. [6oiwg. 
 
 Lev. Stay : examine 
 
 From my confession what a plague thou draw'st 
 Into thy bosom ; tho' 1 blush to say it. 
 Know, I have, without sense of shame or honour.
 
 SCENE IV. THE LADY's TRIAL. 231 
 
 Forsook a lawful marriage-bed, to dally 
 Between Adurni's arms. 
 
 Ben. This lord's ? 
 
 Lev, The same ; 
 
 More ; not content with him, I courted 
 A newer pleasure, but was there refus'd 
 By him 1 nam'd so late. 
 
 Ben. Malfato? 
 
 Lev. Right : 
 
 Am henceforth resolutely bent to print 
 My follies on their hearts ; then change my life 
 For some rare penance. Can*st thou love me now ? 
 
 Ben. Better ; 1 do believe 'tis possible you may 
 mend. All this breaks oflf no bargain. 
 
 Lev. Accept my hand ; with this a faith as con- 
 stant 
 As vows can urge: nor shall my haste prevent 
 This contract, which death only must divorce. 
 
 Ben. Settle the time. 
 
 Lev. Meet here to-morrow night ; 
 
 We will determine further, as behoves us. 
 
 Ben. How is my new love called ? 
 
 Lev. Levidolche. 
 
 Be confident, I bring a worthy portion ; 
 But you'll fly off. 
 
 Ben. Not I, by all that's noble ! 
 
 A kiss farewell, dear fate ! \^Exit. 
 
 Lev. Love is sharp-sighted. 
 
 And can pierce through the cunning of disguises. 
 False pleasures I cashier ye : fair truth welcome ! 
 
 [Exit.
 
 284 THE LADY*S TRIAL. ACT IV. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SCENE I. A Room in the House of Malfato. 
 
 Enter Malfato and Spinella. 
 
 Mai. Here you are safe, sad cousin ; if you please. 
 May over-say the circumstance of what 
 You late discours'd : tnine ears are gladly open. 
 For I myself am in such hearty league 
 With solitary thoughts, that pensive language 
 Charms my attention. 
 
 Spin. But my husband's honours. 
 
 By how much more in him they sparkle clearly 
 By so much more they tempt belief, to credit 
 The wrack and ruin of my injur'd name. 
 
 Mai. Why, cousin, should the earth cleave to 
 the roots, 
 The seas and heavens be mingled in disorder, 
 Tour purity with unaffrighted eyes 
 Might wait the uproar : 'tis the guilty trembles 
 At horrors, not the innocent. You are cruel 
 In censuring a liberty allow'd. 
 Speak freely, gentle cousin ; was Adurni 
 Importunately wanton ? 
 
 Spin. In excess 
 
 Of entertainment, else not. 
 
 Mai. Not the boldness 
 
 Of an uncivil courtship ? 
 
 Spin. What that meant, 
 
 I never understood. I have at once 
 Set bars between my best of earthly joys, ^ 
 And best of men ; so excellent a man 
 As lives without comparison ; his love 
 To me was matciiless.
 
 SCENE I. THE LADY S TRIAL. 285 
 
 Mai. Yet put case, sweet cousin, 
 That 1 could name a creature, whose affection 
 Followed your Auria in the height ; affection 
 To you, even to Spinella, true and settled 
 As ever Auria*s was, can, is, or will be. 
 You may not chide the story. 
 
 Spin. Fortune's minions 
 
 Are flattered, not the miserable. 
 
 Mai. Listen 
 
 To a strange tale, which thus the author sigh'd : 
 A kinsman of Spinella (so it runs) 
 Her father's sister's son, some time before 
 Auria, the fortunate, possess'd her beauties, 
 Became enamour'd of such rare perfections 
 As she was stor'd with; fed his idle hopes 
 With possibilities of lawful conquest ; 
 Propos'd each difficulty in pursuit 
 Of what his vain supposal styl'd his own ; 
 Found in the argument one only flaw 
 Of conscience, by the nearness of their bloods: 
 Unhappy scruple, easily dispens'd with, 
 Had any friend's advice resolv'd the doubt. 
 Still on he lov'd, and lov'd, and wish'd, and wish'd, 
 Eftsoon ' began to speak, yet soon broke off. 
 And still the fondling durst not, 'cause he durst not. 
 
 Spin. 'Twas wonderiul. 
 
 Mai. Kxceeding wonderful, 
 
 Beyond all wonder, yet 'tis known for truth. 
 After her marriage, when remained not ought 
 Of expectation to such fruitless dotage, 
 His reason then, now, then, could not reduce 
 The violence of passion, tho' he vow'd 
 Never to unlock that secret, scarce to her 
 Herself, Spinella ; and withal resolv'd 
 
 ^ Eftsoon.l An obsolete word, signifying...soou afterwards.^ 
 This is one of the latest instances of its use.
 
 286 THE lady's trial. act IV. 
 
 Not to come near her presence, but to avoid 
 AH opportunities, however proffered. 
 
 Spin. An understanding dull'd by th' infelicity 
 Of constant sorrow, is not apprehensive 
 In pregnant novelty ; my ears receive 
 The words you utter, cousin, but my thoughts 
 Are fastened on another subject. 
 
 3Iai. Can you 
 
 Embrace, so like a darling, your own woes, 
 And play the tyrant with a partner in them ? 
 Then 1 am thankful for advantage, urg'd 
 By fatal and enjoin'd necessity. 
 To stand up in defence of injur'd virtue ; 
 Will, against any (1 except no quality), 
 Maintain all supposition misapplied, 
 Unhonest, false, and villainous. 
 
 Spin. Dear cousin. 
 
 As you're a gentleman 
 
 Mai. I'll bless that hand, 
 
 Whose honourable pity seals the passport 
 For my incessant turmoils to their rest. 
 If I prevail (which heaven forbid !) these ages 
 Which shall inherit ours, may tell posterity 
 Spinella had Malfato for a kinsman, 
 By noble love made jealous of her fame. 
 
 Spin. No more ; I dare not hear it. 
 
 Mai. All is said : 
 
 Henceforth shall never syllable proceed. 
 From my unpleasant voice, of amorous folly. 
 
 EtUer Cast ANN A. 
 
 Cast. Your summons warn'd me hither; I am 
 come, 
 Sister: my sister, 'twas an unkind part. 
 Not to take me along wi' you. 
 
 Mai. Chide her for it,
 
 SCENE I. THE LADY*S TRIAL. 287 
 
 Castanna ; this house is as freely yours, 
 As ever was your father's. 
 
 Cast. We conceive so, 
 
 Tho* your late strangeness hath bred marvel in us. 
 But wheretore, sister, keeps your silence distance! 
 Am I not welcome to you ? 
 
 Spin. Lives Auria safe \ 
 Oh, pr*ythee do not hear me call him husband, 
 Before thou can'st resolve what kind of wife 
 His fury terms the runaway ; speak quickly. 
 Yet do not : stay, Castanna ! I am lost ; 
 His friend hath set before him a bad woman, 
 And he, good man, believes it. 
 ' Cast. Now in truth 
 
 Spin. Hold ! my heart trembles. I perceive 
 thy tongue 
 Is great with ills and hastes to be delivered ; 
 I should not use Castanna so. First tell me, 
 Shortly and truly tell me, how he does. 
 
 Cast. In perfect health. 
 
 Spin. For that, my thanks to Heaven. 
 
 Mai. The world hath not another wife like this. 
 Cousin, you will not hear your sister speak, 
 So much your passion rules. 
 
 Spin. Even what she pleases : 
 
 Go on, Castanna. 
 
 Cast. Your most noble husband 
 
 Is deaf to all reports, and only grieves 
 At his soul's love, Spinella's causeless absence. 
 
 Mai. Why look ye, cousin, now ! 
 
 Spin. Indeed ! 
 
 Cast. Will value 
 
 No counsel, takes no pleasure in his greatness, 
 Neither admits of likelihood at all, 
 That you are living : if you were, he's certain 
 It were impossible you could conceal 
 Your welcomes to him, being all one with him ;
 
 288 iHE lady's trial. act IV. 
 
 But as tor jealousy of your dishonour, 
 He both laughs at and scorns it. 
 
 Spills Does he ? 
 
 Mai. Therein 
 
 He shews himself desertful of his happiness. 
 
 Cast, Methinks the news should cause some mo- 
 tion, sister. 
 You are not well. 
 
 MaL Not well \ 
 
 Spi. I am unworthy. 
 
 MaL Of whom ? what ! why ? 
 
 Spin. Go, cousin. Come, Castanua. [^Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE n. An Apartment in the House of Trel- 
 c A T 1 o . Night. 
 
 Enter Trelcatio, Piero, aiid Futelli. 
 
 Trcl. The state in council is already set, 
 My coming will be late : now therefore, gentlemen. 
 This house is free; as your intents are sober, 
 Your pains shall be accepted. 
 
 Fut. Mirth sometimes 
 
 Falls into earnest, signior. 
 
 Piero. We, for our parts. 
 
 Aim at the best. 
 
 Trel. You wrong yourselves and me else : 
 
 Good success to you. l_Exit. 
 
 Piero. Futelli, 'tis our wisest course to follow 
 Our pastime with discretion, by which means 
 We may ingratiate, as our business hits. 
 Our undertakings to great Auria's favt^r. 
 
 Fut. 1 grow quite weary of this lazy custom. 
 Attending on the fruitless hopes of service, 
 For meat and rags. A wit ? a shrewd preferment? 
 Study some scurril jests, grow old, and beg !
 
 SCENE II. THE LADY's TRIAL. 289 
 
 No, let *em be admir'd that love foul linen ; 
 I'll run a new course. 
 
 Piero. Get the coin we spend, 
 
 And knock 'em o'er the pate who jeer our earnings. 
 
 Put. Hush man ; one suitor comes. 
 
 Piero. The t'other follows. 
 
 Put. Be not so loud 
 
 Enter Amoretta. Mtisic below. 
 
 Here comes Madonna Sweet-lips. 
 Mithtreth, in thooth, for thooth, will lithpe it to uth? 
 
 Amor. Dentlemen, then ye ith thith muthicke 
 yourth, or can ye tell what great manths fidleth 
 made it tith vedee petty noyth, but who thold 
 thend it ? 
 
 Piero. Does not yourself know, lady ? 
 
 Amor. I do not uthe 
 
 To thpend lip-labour upon quethtionths, 
 That I mythelfe can anthwer. 
 
 Put. No, sweet madam, 
 
 Your lips are destin'd to a better use, 
 Or else the proverb fails of lisping maids. 
 
 Amor. Kithing you mean, pay, come behind 
 with your mockths then, 
 My lipthes will therve the one to kith the other. 
 How now, whath neckth ? 
 
 Song below. 
 
 fVhat^ ho ! we come to be merry ^ 
 
 Open the doors^ a jovial crcwy 
 Lusty boys and free, and very. 
 
 Very, very lusty boys are we : 
 
 We can drink till all look blue. 
 Dance, sing, and roar. 
 Never give o er. 
 As long as we have ne'er an eye to see. 
 
 Pithee, pithee, leths come in, 
 Oue thall all ouafavous win, 
 
 VOL. II. T
 
 290 Tftfe lady's irial. act iv. 
 
 Dentlif, (fenlli/, we thall passe ; 
 
 None kitheth like the lithpmg lassc. 
 
 Fiero. M^hat call ye this ? a song ? 
 
 Amor. Yeth, a delithious thing, and wondroth 
 pretty. 
 
 Fut. A very country-catch. Doubtless, some 
 prince 
 Belike, hath sent it to congratulate 
 Your night's repose. 
 
 Amor. Thinke ye tho, thignior ? 
 
 it muth be then thome unknowne obthcure printh, 
 That thiins the light. 
 
 Piero. Perhaps the prince of darkness. 
 
 Amor. Of darkneth ? what ith he ? 
 
 Fut. A courtier matchless ; 
 
 A* woos and wins more beauties to his love 
 Than all the kings on earth. 
 
 Enter Fulgoso. 
 
 Amor. Whea thandth hith court pey 
 
 Fut. This gentleman approaching, I presume, 
 Has more relation to his court than I, 
 And comes in time t'inform ye. 
 
 Amor. Think ye tho ? 
 
 Tm thure you know him. 
 
 Piero. Lady, you'll perceive it. 
 
 Ful. She seems in my first entrance to admire me ; 
 'Protest she eyes me round : Fulgoso, she's thine 
 own. 
 
 Piero. Noble Fulgoso. 
 
 Ful. Did you hear the music ? 
 
 *Twas I that brought it : was't not tickling? ah, ha! 
 
 Amor. Pay, what pi nth thent it. 
 
 Ful. Prince ! no prince, but we, 
 
 We set the ditty, and composed the song ; 
 There's not a note or foot in't but our own,
 
 SCENE II. THE LADY S TRIAL. 291 
 
 And the pure trodden mortar of this brain : 
 We can do things and things. 
 
 Amor. Do*t, thing't youa thelfe then. 
 
 Ful. Nay, nay, I could never sing 
 More than a gib-cat, or a very howlet ; 
 But you shall hear me whistle it. 
 
 Atnor. Thith thingth thome jethter ; 
 
 Thure he belongth unto the printh of darkneth. 
 
 Piero. Yes, and Til tell you what his office is : 
 His prince delights himself exceedingly 
 In birds of divers kinds; this gentleman 
 Is keeper and instructor of his black-birds ; 
 He took his skill first from his father's carter. 
 
 Amor. Tith wonderful to thee by what thrange 
 meanes 
 Thome men are rais'd to plathes. 
 
 Ful. I do hear you. 
 
 And thank you heartily for your good wills, 
 In setting forth my parts ; but what I live on, 
 Is simple trade of money from my lands. 
 Hang sharks ! I am no shifter. 
 
 Amor. Ith pothible ? 
 
 Enter Guzman. 
 
 Bleth uth, whoth thith ? 
 
 Fut. Oh, 'tis the man of might. 
 
 Guz. May my address to beauty lay no scandal 
 Upon my martial honour, since even Mars, 
 Whom, as in war, in love I imitate, 
 Could not resist the shafts of" Cupid ; therefore, 
 As with the god of war, 1 deign to stoop, [Kneels. 
 Lady, vouchsafe, Love's goddess-like, to yield 
 Your fairer hand unto these lips, the portals 
 Of valiant breath, that hath o'erturn'd an army. 
 
 Amor. Faya weather keep me ! what a thorme 
 ith thith ? 
 
 Fut. Oh, Don, keep oS at further distance ; yeC
 
 992 THE lady's trial. act iv. 
 
 A little farther : do you not observe 
 
 How your strong breath hath terrified the lady ? ,. 
 
 Guz. 1*11 stop the breath of war, and breathe as 
 gently 
 As a perfumed pair of sucking bellows 
 In some sweet lady's chamber ; for I can 
 Speak lion-like, or sheep-like, when I please. 
 
 Fut. Stand, by then, without noise, awhile, brave 
 Don, 
 And let her only view your parts; they'll take he^"!^ 
 
 Guz. I'll publish them in silence. 
 
 Piero. Stand you there, 
 
 Fulgoso the magnificent. 
 
 Ful. Here ? 
 
 Piero. Just there : 
 
 Let her survey you both ; you'll be her choice 
 Ne'er doubt it, man. 
 
 Ful\ I cannot doubt it, man. 
 
 Piero. But speak not till I bid you. 
 
 FmI. 1 may whistle ? 
 
 Piero. A little to yourself, to spend the time. 
 
 Amor. Both foolth, you thay ? 
 
 Fut. But hear them for your sport. 
 
 Piero. Don shall begin. Begin, Don ; she has 
 survey *d 
 Your outwards and your inwards, through the rents 
 And wounds of your apparel. 
 
 Guz. She is politic. 
 
 My outside, lady, shrouds a prince obscur'd. 
 
 Amor. I thank ye for your muthicke, printh. 
 
 Guz. [^Aside.'] My words 
 
 Are music to her. 
 
 Amor. The muthicke and the thong 
 
 You thent me by thith whithling thing, your man. 
 
 ' FtU,"] This 8i)ccch is erroneously giren to Futelli in the 
 quarto.
 
 SCENE II. THE LADY*S TRIAL. 993 
 
 Guz. She took him for my man ! Love, thou 
 wertjust. 
 
 Ful. 1 will not hold: Hisman ! 'tis time to speak 
 Betbre my time. Oh scurvy, 1 his man, 
 That has no means for meat or rags, and seam-rents! 
 
 Gtfz. Have 1 with this one rapier 
 
 P'lero. He has no other. 
 
 Guz. FassM through afield of pikes, whose heads 
 1 lopt 
 As easily as the bloody-minded youth 
 Lopt off the poppy heads? 
 
 Fid. The puppet heads. 
 
 Guz. Have I have 1 have 1 ? 
 
 Ful. Thou liest, thou hast not. 
 
 And ril maintain't. 
 
 Guz. Have I but let that pass, 
 
 For tho' my famous acts were damn'd to silence, 
 Yet my descent shall crown me thy superior. 
 
 Amor. That I would lithen to. 
 
 Guz. List and wonder. 
 
 My great-great-grandsfre was an ancient duke, 
 Styrd Dis vir di Gonzado '. 
 
 Flit. That's, in Spanish, 
 
 An incorrigible rogue, without a fellow, 
 An unmatched rogue : He thinks we understand not. 
 
 Guz. So was my grandfather, hight Argozile. 
 
 Fut. An arrant, arrant thief-leader : pray mock it. 
 
 Gia.. My grandsire by the mother's side a conde, 
 Conde Escrivano. 
 
 Fut. A crop-ear' d scrivener. 
 
 " Dis ? vir di Gonzado.'] So the quarto reads. The corrup- 
 tion is so Tiolent, that I have not been able to discover the. Spa- 
 nish word intended. Argozil, which occurs a few lines after- 
 wards, is a corruption of alguazil, a beadle or catchpole. Fur- 
 ther on, the erroneous readings of the quarto have been correct- 
 ed, as Haio, Piccaco, &c.
 
 294 THE lady's TRIAL. ACT IV. 
 
 Guz. Whose son, my mother's father, was a mar- 
 quis, 
 Hijo di pulo. 
 
 Piero. That's the son of a whore. 
 
 Guz. And my renowned sire, don Picaro, 
 
 Fut. In proper sense, a rascal. O, brave Don. 
 
 Guz. Hijo di una pravada 
 
 Piero. A' goes on, 
 
 Son of a branded bitch. High-spirited Don ! 
 
 Guz. Had lionoursboth by sea and land, to wit 
 
 Fut. The gallies and Bridewell. 
 
 Ful. I'll not endure it : 
 
 To hear a canting mongrel Hear me, lady ! 
 
 Guz. *Tis no fair play. 
 
 Ful. I care not, fair or foul. 
 
 I from a king derive my pedigree. 
 King Oberon by name, from whom my father, 
 The mighty and couragious Mountibanco, 
 Was lineally descended ; and my mother 
 (In right of whose blood, 1 must ever honour' 
 The lower Germany) was a Harlequin. 
 
 Fut. He'll blow up 
 
 The Spaniard presently by his mother's side. 
 
 Ful. Her father was grave* Hans A'^an Heme, the 
 son 
 
 * mi/ mother 
 
 (In right of tchof^e bloody I must ever honour 
 The lower German} ) teas a harlekine.] This passage rer- 
 tainly leads iis to sxippose, (hat this species of buffoon mv&s im- 
 ported directly from the north of Germany, and that the cha- 
 racter was not confined tc the male sex. The Uans-icursi of the 
 German theatre, Mho completely answers to the Harlequin, is a 
 character of very long standing. It may, however, be possible, 
 that some celebrated female performer in that line, who was no- 
 torious at the time this play was produced, is alluded to in the 
 text. In the next line the quarto reads //<? blow up. 
 
 Gravcy'] i. c. Count ; from the Dutch and German.
 
 SCENE II. THE LADY S TRIAL. 295 
 
 Of Hogen Mogen, dat de droates did sneighen 
 Of veirteen hundred Spaniards in one neict. 
 
 Guz. Oh, diabolo ! 
 
 FuL Ten thousand devils, nor diabolos, 
 
 Shall fright me from my pedigree. My uncle, 
 Yacob \ an Flagon-drought, with Abraham Snorten- 
 
 fert, 
 And ycngster Brogen-foh, with fourscore hargu- 
 
 bush ', 
 Managed by well lin'd butter-boxes, took 
 A thousand Spanish jobber-nowles by surprise, 
 And beat a sconce about their ears. 
 
 Gux. My fury 
 
 Is now but justice on thy forfeit life. [Draws. 
 
 Amor, 'Lath, they thall not fight. 
 
 Fut. Fear not, sweet lady. 
 
 Piero. Be advis'd, great spirits. 
 
 FuL My fortunes bid me to be wise in duels ; 
 Else hang't, who cares 1 
 
 Gux. Mine honour is my tutor, 
 
 Already tried and known. 
 
 F^t. Why, there's the point, 
 
 Mine honour is my tutor too. Noblemen 
 Fight in their persons ! scorn't ! 'tis out of fashion, 
 There's none but'hare-brain'd youths of mettle use it. 
 
 Piero. Yet put not up your swords ; it is the 
 pleasure 
 Of the fair lady that you quit the field, 
 With brandish'd blades in hand. 
 
 Fut. And more, to shew 
 
 Your suffering valour, as her equal favours, 
 You both should take a competence of kicks. 
 
 Fttt. and Piero. Thus and thus. Away you brace 
 of stinkards. ^Kicks them. 
 
 Ful. Pheugh ! as it were. 
 
 * Hargubush."] A kind of gun, similar to our carabine.
 
 996 THE lady's trial. act IV. 
 
 Gvz. Why, since it is her pleasure, 
 
 I dare and will endure it. 
 
 Fui. P he ugh ! 
 
 Piero, Away, 
 
 But stay below. 
 
 Fut. Budge not, I charge ye, 
 
 Till you have further leave. 
 
 Guz, Mine honour claims 
 
 The last foot in the field. 
 
 FuL ril lead the van then. 
 
 \_Exeunt Fulg. and Guz. 
 
 Filter Trelcatio. 
 
 Fut. Yet morel Begone! Are not these precious 
 
 suitors 
 Trel. What tumults fright the house ? 
 Fut. A brace of castrels, 
 
 That fluttered, sir, about this lovely game, 
 Your daughter ; but they durst not give the souse, 
 And so took heds^e. 
 
 Piero. Mere haggards, buzzards, kites '. 
 
 Amor. 1 thkorne thuch trumpe, and [I] will 
 thape my luffe, 
 Henthforth ath thall my father bctht direct me. 
 
 Trel. Why now thou sing'st in tune, my Amoretta, 
 And, my good friends, you have, like wise physi- 
 cians, 
 
 * A brace of castrels. 
 
 That flattered, sir, about this lovely game. 
 
 Your (laughter ; hut they durst not give the souze, 
 
 u4nd so took hedge. .... 
 
 Mfc haggards, buzzards, kites.] In this passage the meta- 
 phors of which are entirely taken from the fashionable sport of 
 falconry, it was necessary to correct the words^a/Zererfand mee, 
 eridcnt corruptions of fluttered a.nA mere. Haggards arc hawks 
 unreclaimed ; castrels, buzzards, and kites are amongst the least 
 valuable of that species of birds. A hawk is said to give the 
 souse when he descends rapidly upon his prey. The phrase to 
 take hedge explains itself.
 
 SCENE II. THE LADY*S TRIAL. 297 
 
 Prescrib'd a healthful diet : I shall think on 
 A bounty tor your pains, and will present ye 
 To noble Auria, such as your descents 
 Commend ; but for the present we must quit 
 This room to privacy : they come 
 
 Amor. Nay, predee, 
 
 Leave me not, dentlemen. 
 
 Fut. We are your servants. 
 
 \_Exeunt. 
 
 Enter Auhia, Adurni, and Aurelio. 
 
 Aur, You're welcome, be assur'd you are ; for 
 proof, 
 Retrieve the boldness (as you please to term it) 
 Of visit to commands : if this man's presence 
 Be not of use, dismiss him. 
 
 Adur. 'Tis, with favour. 
 
 Of consequence, my lord, your friend may witness 
 How far my reputation stands engag'd 
 To noble reconcilement. 
 
 Aur. I observe 
 
 No party here amongst us, who can challenge 
 A motion of such honour. 
 
 Adur. Could your looks 
 
 Borrow more clear severity and calmness, 
 Than can the peace of a composed soul ; 
 Yet, I presume, report of my attempt, 
 Train'd by a curiosity in youth 
 For scattering clouds before 'em, hath rais'd tem- 
 pests 
 Which will at last break out. 
 
 Aur. Hid now, most likely, 
 
 r the darkness of your speech. 
 
 Aurel. You may be plainer. 
 
 Adur, I shall, my lord : that I intended wrong 
 
 A^r. Ha! wrong! to whom?
 
 298 THE lady's trial. act IV. 
 
 Adur. To Auria ; and as far 
 As language could prevail, did 
 
 Aur. Take advice, 
 
 Young lord, before thy tongue betray a secret 
 Conceal'd yet from the world ; hear and consider : 
 In all my flight of vanity and giddiness, 
 When scarce the wings of my excess were fledg'd, 
 When a distemperature of youthful heat 
 Might have excus'd disorder and ambition, 
 Even then, and so from thence till now the down 
 Of softness is exchanged for plumes of age. 
 Confirmed and hard'ned, never durst 1 pitch 
 On any, howsoever likely, rest, 
 Where the presumption might be construed wrong ; 
 The word is hateful, and the sense wants pardon: 
 For, as 1 durst not wrong the meanest, so 
 He who but only aim'd, by any boldness, 
 A wrong to me, should find 1 must not bear it ; 
 The one is as unmanly as the other. 
 Now, without interruption. 
 
 Adur. Stand, Aurelio, 
 
 And justify thine accusation boldly ; 
 Spare me the needless use of my confession ; 
 And, having told no more, than what thy jealousy 
 Possess'd thee with, again before my face, 
 Urge to thy friend the breach of hospitality 
 Adumi trespast in, and thou conceiv*st, 
 Against Spinella ; why proofs grow faint, 
 If barely not suppos'd, 1*11 answer guilty. 
 
 Aurel. You come not here to brave us ? 
 
 Adur, No, Aurelio; 
 
 But to reply upon that brittle evidence. 
 To which tny cunning never shall rejoin. 
 I make my judge my jury; be accountant 
 Whether, with all the eagerness of spleen' 
 
 * The eagerness of spleen."] Perhaps we should read, The 
 tpleen of a suspicious rage.
 
 SCENE II. TkE lady's TRIAL. 299 
 
 Of a suspicious rage can plead, thou hast 
 Enforc'd the likehhood of scandal. 
 
 Aurel. Doubt not 
 
 But that I have deliver* d honest truth. 
 As much as 1 believe, and justly witness. 
 
 Adur. Loose grounds to raise a bulwark of re- 
 proach on ! 
 And thus for that ; my errand hither is not 
 In whining, truant-like submission. 
 To cry, " 1 have offended, pray, forgive me ; 
 I will do so no more :" but to proclaim 
 The power of virtue, whose commanding sovereign- 
 ty, 
 vSets bounds to rebel-bloods, and check ; restrains 
 Custom of folly; by example teaches 
 A rule to reformation ; by rewards, 
 Crowns worthy actions, and invites to honour. 
 
 Aurel. Honour and worthy actions best beseem 
 Their lips who practice both, and not discourse 
 'em. 
 
 Aur. Peace, peace, man : I am silent. 
 
 Adur, i^ome there are, 
 
 And they not few in number, who resolve 
 No beauty can be chaste, 'less unattempted ; 
 And, for because the liberty of courtship 
 Flies from the wanton, on the her comes next, 
 Meeting oft-times too many soon seduc'd, 
 Conclude, all may be won by gifts, by service. 
 Or compliments of vows : and with this file 
 I stood in rank ; conquest secur'd my confidence. 
 Spinella storm not, Auria was an object 
 Of study for fruition ; here I angled, 
 Not doubting the deceit could find resistance. . 
 
 Aurel. After confession follows 
 
 Aur. Noise ! observe him. 
 
 Adur. Oh, strange ! by all the comforts of my 
 hopes,
 
 300 THE lady's trial. act IV. 
 
 I found a woman good, a woman good ; 
 
 Yet, as I wish belief, or do desire 
 
 A memorijble mention, so much majesty 
 
 Of humbleness, and scorn, appear'd at once 
 
 In fair, in chaste, in wise Spinella's eyes. 
 
 That 1 grew dull in utterance, and one frown 
 
 From her, cool'd every tlame of sensual appetite. 
 
 Aur. On, sir, and do not stop. 
 
 Adur. Without protests, 
 
 I pleaded merely love, us'd not a syllable, 
 But what a virgin might, without a blush, 
 Have listen'd to, and, not well-arm'd, have pitied ; 
 But she neglecting, cry*d, " Come Auria, come. 
 Fight for thy wife at home;*' then in rush'd you, 
 
 sir, 
 Talk d in much fury, parted ; when as soon 
 The lady vanish'd, after her the rest. 
 
 Aur. What followed ? 
 
 Adur. My commission on mine error, 
 
 In execution whereof! have prov'd 
 So punctually severe, that 1 renounce 
 All memory, not to this one fault alone, 
 But to my other greater, and more irksome. 
 Now, he whoever owns a name, that construes 
 This repetition the report of fear, 
 Of falsehood, or imposture, let him tell me : 
 I give myself the lie, and I will clear 
 The injury, and man to man, or, if 
 Such justice may prove doubtful, two to two. 
 Or three to three, or any way reprieve 
 Th' opinion of my forfeit, without blemish. 
 
 Aur. Who can you think I am? did you expect 
 So great a tameness as you find, Adurni, 
 That you cast loud defiance] say 
 
 Adur. I have robb'd you 
 
 Of riffour, Auria, by my strict self-penance, 
 For the presumption.
 
 SCENE II. THE LADY's TRIAL. 301 
 
 Aur. Sure, Italians hardly 
 
 Admit dispute in questions of this nature ; 
 The trick is new. 
 
 Adiir. I find my absolution, 
 
 By vows of change from all ignoble practice. 
 
 Aur. Why, look ye, friend, I told you this be- 
 fore : 
 You would not be persuaded. Let me think. 
 
 [Walks apart, 
 
 Atirel. You do not yet deny that you solicited 
 The lady to ill purpose. 
 
 Adur. I have answer' d ; 
 
 But it return'd much quiet to my mind, 
 Perplex'd with rare commotions. 
 
 Aur. (Coming forward.) That's the way ; 
 It smooths all rubs. 
 
 Aurel. My lord? 
 
 Aur. Fob ! I am thinking. 
 
 You may talk forward. If it take 'tis clear, 
 And then, and then, and so, and so 
 
 Adur. You labour 
 
 With curious engines, sure. 
 
 Aur. Fine ones : I take ye 
 
 To be a man of credit ; else 
 
 Adur. Suspicion 
 
 Is needless, know me better. 
 
 Aur. Yet you must not 
 
 Part from me, sir. 
 
 Adw. For that your pleasure. 
 
 Aur. *' Come 
 
 Fight for thy wife at home, my Auria!" Yes, 
 We can fight, my Spinella, when thine honour 
 Relies upon a champion. 
 
 Enter Trelcatio. 
 
 Now \ 
 Trei. My lord,
 
 302 THE LADY S TRIAL. ACT V. 
 
 Castanna, with her sister, and Malfato 
 Are newly enter'd. 
 
 Aur. Be not loud : Convey them 
 
 Into the gallery. Aurelio, friend, 
 Adurni, lord, we three will sit in council, 
 And piece a hearty league, or scuffle shrewdly. 
 
 [^Exeunt. 
 
 ACT V. 
 SCENE I. A Room in the House q/* Marti no. 
 
 Enter Martino, Benatzi, and Levidolche. 
 
 Mart. Ruffian, out of my doors ! thou com'st to 
 rob me. 
 An officer ! what, ho I my house is haunted 
 By a lewd pack of thieves, of harlots, murderers. 
 Rogues, vagabonds ; I foster a decoy here, 
 And she trowls' on her ragged customer, 
 To cut my throat for pillage. 
 
 Leo. Good sir, hear me, 
 
 Beti. Hear or not hear, let him rave his lungs 
 out! Whilst this woman hath abode under this 
 roof, I will justify myself her bedfellow in despite 
 of denial, in despite: those are my words. 
 
 Mart. Monstrous ! Why, sirrah, do I keep a 
 bawdy-house, 
 An hospital for pandars? Oh, thou monster. 
 Thou she-confusion ! are you grown so rampant, 
 That from a private wanton, thou proclaim'st thyself 
 A baggage for all gamesters, lords or gentlemen, 
 
 * And she trowls on her ragged customer.~[ A metaphor 
 taken from aagliog.
 
 SCENE I. THE LADY's TRIAL. 303 
 
 Strangers, or home-spun yeomen, foot-posts, pages, 
 Roarers', or hangmen? hey-day! set up shop, 
 And then cry a market open ; to't, and welcome. 
 
 Lev. This is my husband. 
 
 Mart, Husband ! 
 
 Ben. Husband natural; I have married her: and 
 what's your verdict on the match, signior \ 
 
 Mart. Husband, and married her! 
 
 Lev. Indeed, *tis truth. 
 
 Mart. A proper joining ! Give ye joy, great mis- 
 tress ; 
 Your fortunes are advanced, marry are they. 
 What jointure is assur'd, pray! some three thou- 
 sand 
 A- year in oaths and vermin? fair preferment ! 
 Was ever such a tatter'd rag of man's flesh. 
 Patch' d up for copesmate * to my niece's daughter! 
 
 Lev. Sir, for my mother's name forbear this an- 
 ger ; 
 It 1 have yok'd myself beneath your wishes. 
 Yet is my choice a lawful one, and I 
 Will live as truly chaste unto his bosom, 
 As e'er my faith hath bound me. 
 
 Mart. A sweet couple ! 
 
 Ben. We are so ; for mine own part, however 
 my outside appear ungay, I have wrestled with 
 death, signior Martino, to preserve your sleeps: 
 and such as you, are untroubled. A soldier is in 
 peace a mockery, a very town-bull for laughter; 
 unthrifts, and landed babies, are prey-curmudgeons, 
 lay their baits for^ Let the wars rattle about your 
 
 * Roarers."] On the subject of roarers, or roaring boys, see 
 a note on the Sun's Darling, in this Tolume. 
 
 * Copesmate.'] An old word, used in Spenser's Mother Hub- 
 bard's Tale, for companion, friend : here it seems rather to sig. 
 nify mate or husband. 
 
 ' A soldier is in peace a mockert/y a very town^hulljor laugh-
 
 304 THE lady's trial. act v. 
 
 ears once, and the security of a soldier is right ho- 
 nourable amongst ye then : that day may shine 
 again. So to my business. 
 
 Mart. A soldier! thou a soldier! I do believe 
 Thou'rt lowsy; that's a pretty sign I grant: 
 A villainous poor banditti rather; one 
 Can man a quean', and cant, and pick a pocket. 
 Pad* for a cloak, or hat, and, in the dark, 
 Pistol a straggler for a quarter-ducat. 
 A soldier! yes, 'a looks as if 'a had not 
 The spirit of a herring, or a tumbler. 
 
 Ben. Let age and dotage rage together, Levi- 
 dolche, thou art mine ; on what conditions the world 
 shall soon witness. Yet since our hands join'd, I 
 have not interessed' my possession of thy bed, nor 
 till I have accounted to thy injunction, do 1 mean. 
 Kiss me quick and resolute. So adieu, signior. 
 
 Lev. Dear, for love's sake, stay. 
 
 Be^i. Forbear entreaties. [E.r/7. 
 
 Mart. Ah, thou but what? I know not how 
 to call thee : 
 Fain would I smother grief, and out it must. 
 My heart is broke, thou hast for many a day 
 Been at a loss, and now art lost for ever ; 
 Lost, lost, without recovery. 
 
 ter: unthrifts and landed babies^ are prey-curmudgeonSj hy 
 their baits forJ] That is. Who lay their baits for them, (tho 
 soldiers.) This is the only sense I can extract from this passage, 
 which is very inaccurately worded. 
 
 ' Can man a qucan.l To man whores was a rery usual phrase 
 in old authors, and signified, to attend upon them. For instance, 
 in the Scornful Lady, by Beaumont and Fletcher, " Why, I'll 
 purse ; if that fail me, I'll bet at bowling-alleys, or maniohores." 
 
 * Pad.'] A cant expression for robbing on foot. 
 
 5 / have not interesscd,] i. e. I have not claimed my interest 
 in. The word, spelt in (ho same manner, is used by Shakespeare 
 and Ben Jonson.
 
 SCENE I. THE LADY*S TRIAL. 305 
 
 Lev. With pardon, 
 
 Let me retain your sorrows. 
 
 Mart. 'Tis impossible; 
 
 Despair of rising up to honest fame 
 Turns all the courses wild, and this last action 
 Will roar thy infamy. Then you are certainly 
 Married, forsooth, unto this new-come ? 
 
 Lev. Yes, 
 
 And herein every hope is brought to life, 
 Which long hath lain in deadness; I have once 
 
 more 
 Wedded Benatzi, my divorced husband. 
 
 Mart. Benatzi ! this the man ? 
 
 Lev. No odd disguise 
 
 Could guard him from discovery ; 'tis he, 
 The choice of my ambition. Heaven preserve me 
 Thankful for such a bounty ! Yet he dreams not 
 Of this deceit; but let me die in speaking. 
 If I repute not my success more happy 
 Than any earthly blessing. Oh ! sweet uncle, 
 Rejoice with me ; 1 am a faithful convert, 
 And will redeem the stains of a foul name. 
 By love and true obedience. 
 
 Mart. Force of passion 
 
 Shews me a child again. Do, Levidolche, 
 Perform thy resolutions; those perform'd, 
 I have been only steward for your welfare. 
 You shall have all between ye. 
 
 Lev. Join with me, sir ; 
 
 Our plot requires much speed: we must be earnest. 
 I'll tell you what conditions threaten danger, 
 Unless you intermediate ; let us hasten. 
 For fear we come too late. 
 
 Mart. As thou intendest 
 
 A virtuous honesty, I am thy second 
 
 VOL. II. U
 
 306 THE lady's trial. ACT V. 
 
 To any office, Levidolche witty, 
 My niece, my witty niece. 
 
 Lev, Let's slack no time, sir. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II. An apartment in Trelcatio's 
 House, 
 
 w^er Trelcatio, Malfato, Spinella, anrf 
 Castanna. 
 
 Trel. Kinsman and ladies, have a little patience, 
 All will be as you wish ; I'll be your warrant, 
 Fear nothing ; Auria is a noble fellow. 
 I leave ye; but, be sure, I am in hearing: 
 Take courage. [Exit. 
 
 Mat. Courage ! they who have no hearts, 
 
 Find none to lose ; ours is as great as his. 
 Who defies danger most. Sure state and ceremony! 
 In habit here like strangers, we shall wait, 
 Formality of entertainment. Cousin, 
 Let us return, 'tis paltry. 
 
 Spin. Gentle sir, 
 
 Confine your passion ; my attendance only 
 Commands a duty. 
 
 Enter Auria and Aurelio. 
 
 Cant.* Now, for Heaven's sake, sister! 
 
 He comes, your husband comes ; take comfort sis- 
 ter. 
 Aur. Malfato! 
 Alal. Auria ! 
 
 Aur. Cousin, 'would mine arms, 
 
 * Cttft.'] This speech is unappropriated in the quarto.
 
 SCENE II. THF. LADY's TRIAL. 307 
 
 In their embraces, might at once deliver 
 Affectionately what interest your merit 
 Holds in my estimation. 1 may chide 
 The coyness of this intercourse betwixt us, 
 Which a retired privacy on your part 
 Hath pleas'd to shew. It' ought of my endeavours 
 Can purchase kind opinion, 1 shall honour 
 The means and practice. 
 
 Mai. ' Tis your charity. 
 
 Aurel. Worthy Malfato ! 
 
 Mai. Frovident Aurelio ! 
 
 Aur. Castanna, virtuous maid ! 
 
 Cast. \ our servant, brother. 
 
 Aur. But who*s that other ? Such a face mine 
 eyes 
 Have been acquainted with ; the sight resembles 
 Something which is not quite lost to remembrance. 
 
 [Spinillla kneels. 
 Why does the lady kneel! to whom? l^ray rise; 
 I shall forget civility of manners, 
 Imagining you tender a false tribute, 
 Or him to whom you tender it, a counterfeit. 
 
 Mai. My lord, you use a borrow'd bravery, 
 Not suiting fair constructions. May your lortunes 
 Mount higher than can apprehension reach 'em ; 
 Yet this waste kind ot antic sovereignty 
 Unto a wife who equals every best 
 Of your deserts, achievements, or posterity, 
 Bewrays a barrenness of noble nature. 
 Let upstarts exercise uncomely roughness. 
 Clear spirits to the humble will be humble: 
 You know your wife, no doubt. 
 
 Aur. *Cry ye mercy, gentleman, 
 
 Belike you come to tutor a good carriage', 
 Are expert m the nick on't : we shall study 
 
 * Carriagejl Conduct, behaTiour.
 
 308 THE LADY*S TRIAL. ACT V. 
 
 Instructions quaintly. Wife you said? agreed. 
 Keep tair, and stand the trial. 
 
 Spin. Those words raise 
 
 A lively soul in her, who almost yielded 
 To taintness and stupidity ; 1 thank ye : 
 Though prove what judge you will, till I can purge 
 Objections which require belief and conscience, 
 I have no kindred, sister, husband, friend, 
 Or pity for ray plea. 
 
 Mai. Call ye this welcome ? 
 
 We are mistook, Castanna. 
 
 Cast. Oh ! my lord, 
 
 Other respects were promised. 
 
 Aur. Said ye, lady, 
 
 No kindred, sister, husband, triend ? 
 
 Spin. Nor name; 
 
 W^ith this addition, I disclaim all benefit 
 Of mercy from a charitable thought, 
 If one or all the subtleties of malice. 
 If any engineer of faithless discord, 
 If supposition for pretence in folly, 
 Can point out, without injury to goodness, 
 A likelihood ot guilt in my behaviour, 
 Which may declare neglect in every duty, 
 Requir'd, fit, or exacted. 
 
 Aur. High and peremptory. 
 
 The confidence is masculine. 
 
 Mai. Why not? 
 
 An honourable cause gives lite to truth, 
 Without controul. 
 
 Spin. 1 can proceed ; that tongue. 
 
 Whose venom, by traducing spotless honour. 
 Hath spread th* injection, is not more mine enemy, 
 Than their's, or his, weak and besotted brains are. 
 On whom the poison ot its cankered falsehood 
 Hath wrought for credit to so foul a mischief. 
 Speak, sir, the churlish voice of this combustion,
 
 SCENE II. THE LADY's TRIAL. 309 
 
 Aurelio, speak ; nor, gentle sir, forbear 
 Ought what you know, but roundly use your elo- 
 quence 
 Against a mean defendant. 
 
 Mai. ^ He's put to't ; 
 
 It seems the challenge gravels him. 
 
 AureL My intelligence, 
 
 tVas issue of my doubts, not of my knowledge. 
 A self-confession may crave assistance ; 
 Let the lady's justice impose the penance. 
 So, in the rules of friendship, as of love, 
 Suspicion is not seldom an improper 
 Advantage for the knitting faster joints 
 Of faithfullest affection, by the fevers 
 Of casualty unloos'd, where lastly error 
 Hath run into the toil. 
 
 Spin. Woful satisfaction 
 
 For a divorce of hearts I 
 
 Aur. So resolute ? 
 
 I shall touch nearer home: behold these hairs, 
 Great masters of a spirit ! yet they are not 
 By winter of old age quite hid in snow ; 
 Some messengers of time I must acknowledge 
 Amongst them took up lodging ; when we first 
 Exchanged our faiths in wedlock, 1 was proud 
 I did prevail with one whose youth and beauty 
 DeservM a choice more suitable in both. 
 Advancement to a fortune could not court 
 Ambition, either on my side, or hers : 
 Love drove the bargain, and the truth of love 
 Confirm'd it, I conceiv'd. But disproportion 
 In years, amongst the married, is a reason 
 For change of pleasures ; whereto I reply, 
 Our union was not forc'd, 'twas by consent ; 
 So then the breach in such a case appears 
 Unpardonable : Say your thoughts. 
 
 Spin. My thoughts
 
 310 THE lady's trial. ACT V. 
 
 In that respect are as resolute as yours. 
 The same ; yet herein evidence of frailty 
 Deserv'd not more a separation, 
 Than doth charge of disloyalty objected 
 Without or ground or witness; "womens faults 
 Subject to punishments, and mens applauded, 
 Prescribe no laws in force. 
 
 Aarel. Are ye so nimble \ 
 
 Mai. A soul sublimM from dross by competition, 
 Such as is mighty Auria's fam'd, descends 
 From its own sphere, when injuries, profound ones, 
 ^ield to the combat of a scolding mastery. 
 Skirmish of words hath with your wife lewdly rang'd. 
 Adulterating the honour of your bed. 
 Hold [not'] dispute, but execute your vengeance. 
 With unresisted rage ; we shall look on, 
 Allow the fact, and spurn her from our bloods; 
 Else, not detected, you have wrong'd her innocence 
 Unworthily and childishly, for which 
 I challenge satisfaction. 
 
 Cast. * Tis a tyranny 
 
 Over an humble and obedient sweetness, 
 Ungently to insult. 
 
 Enter Adurni. 
 
 Adiir. That 1 make good, 
 
 And must without exception find admittance. 
 Fitting the party who hath herein interest. 
 Put case 1 was in fault, that fault stretch'd merely 
 To a misguided thought; and who in presence, 
 Except the pair of sisters, fair and matchless, 
 Can quit an imputation of like folly? 
 Here 1 ask pardon, excellent Spinella, 
 
 * NotJ] This word is accidentally omitted in the quarto. ThC 
 context is so obscure, that 1 strongly suspect the oniitsion of a 
 line in this speech ; the quarto being su|)crlatiTely incorrect
 
 SCENE II. THE LADY*S TRIAL. 311 
 
 Of only you; that granted, he amongst you, 
 Who calls an even reckoning, shall meet 
 An even accountant. 
 
 Aur. Baited by confederacy ! 
 
 I must have right. 
 
 Spin. And I, my lord. My lord, 
 
 What stir and coil is here? you can suspect? 
 So reconciliation then is needless ; 
 Conclude the difference by revenge, or part, 
 And never more see one another. Sister, 
 Lend me thine arm ; I have assum'd a courage 
 Above my force, and can hold out no longer. 
 Auria, unkind, unkind! 
 
 Cast. She faints. 
 
 Aur. Spinella ! 
 
 Regent of my affections, thou hast conquer'd: 
 I find thy virtues as I left them, perfect, 
 Pure, and unflaw*d ; for instance, let me claim 
 Castanna's promise. 
 
 Cast. Mine ? 
 
 Aur. Yours, to whose faith 
 
 I am a guardian, not by imposition, 
 But by you chosen. Look you, I have fitted 
 A husband for you, noble and deserving; 
 No shrinking back. Adurni, I present her, 
 A wife of worth. 
 
 Mai. How's that? 
 
 Adur. So great a blessing 
 
 Crowns all desires of life. The motion, lady. 
 To me, I can assure you, is not sudden. 
 But welcomed and forethought ; 'would you could 
 
 please. 
 To say the like. 
 
 Aur. Castanna, do. Speak, dearest : 
 
 It rectifies all crooks, [all] vain surmises ; 
 I pr'ythee speak.
 
 312 THE LADY S TRIAL. ACT V. 
 
 Spin. The courtship's somewhat quick, 
 
 The match it seems agreed on ; do not, sister, 
 Reject the use of fate. 
 
 Cast. I dare not question 
 
 The will of heaven. 
 
 Mai. Unthought of and unlook'd for. 
 
 Spin. My ever honoured lord. 
 
 Aurel. This marriage frees 
 
 Each circumstance of jealousy. 
 
 Aur. Make no scruple, 
 
 Castanna, of the choice ; 'tis firm and real: 
 Why else have I so long with tameness uourish'd 
 Report of wrongs, but that I fix'd on issue 
 Of my desires. Italians use not dalliance. 
 But execution : herein 1 degenerated 
 From custom of our natiou ; for the virtues 
 Of my Spinella rooted in my soul. 
 The common form of matrimonial compliments' 
 Short-liv'd are as their pleasures. Yet, in sooth, 
 My dearest, I might blame your causeless absence. 
 To whom my love and nature were no strangers, 
 But being in your kinsman's house, I honour 
 His hospitable friencjghip, and must thank it. 
 Now lasting truce on all hands. 
 
 Aitrci. You will pardon 
 
 A rash and overbusy curiosity. 
 
 Spin. It was to blame, but the success remits it. 
 Adur. Sir, what presumptions formerly have 
 grounded 
 
 * Yet common form of matrimonial compliments. 
 Short livUl, as are their pleasures.'] So the quarto. I much 
 suspect some omission to have taken place. The alterations in 
 the text, however, restore some degree of sense, which the origi. 
 nal is entirely destitute of. Y'et^ at the head of the first line 
 might easily hare been caught by the eye of the compositor from 
 the second line : a kind of corruption well known to all who 
 have had any transactions with the press. The might have been 
 written with the common abbreviation y', in the manuscript.
 
 SCENE II. THE LADY'S TRIAL. 315 
 
 Opinion of unfitting carriage to you, 
 On my part I shall faithfully acquit 
 At easy summons. 
 
 Mai. You prevent the nicety ; 
 
 Use your own pleasure. 
 
 Enter Benatzi, his sword drawn, Levidolche 
 and M A R T I N o following, 
 
 Aurel. What*s the matter ? 
 
 Aur. Matter ! 
 
 Ben. Adurni and Malfato found together ! 
 Now for a glorious vengeance. 
 
 Lev. Hold, oh hold him ! 
 
 Aurel. This is no place for murder ; yield thy 
 sword. 
 
 Aur. Yield it, or force it ; set you up your 
 shambles 
 Of slaughter in my presence \ 
 
 Adur. Let him come. 
 
 Mat. What can the ruffian mean ? 
 
 Ben. I am prevented. 
 
 The temple or the chamber of the duke, 
 Had else not provM a sanctuary. Lord, 
 Thou hast dishonourably wrong' d my wife. 
 
 Adur. Thy wife ! I know not her,, nor thee. 
 
 Aur. Fear nothing. 
 
 Lev. Yes, me you know. Heaven has a gentle 
 mercy 
 For penitent offenders : blessed ladies, 
 Repute me not a cast-away, though once 
 I fell into some lapses, which our sex 
 Are oft entangled by ; yet what I have been, 
 Concerns me now no more, who am resolvM 
 On a new life. This gentleman, Benatzi, 
 Disguised as you see, 1 have remarried. 
 1 knew you at first sight, and tender constantly 
 Submission for all errors.
 
 314 THE lady's trial. act v. 
 
 Mart. Nay, 'tis true sir. 
 
 Ben. I joy in the discovery, am thankful 
 Unto the change. 
 
 Aur. Let wonder henceforth cease. 
 
 For I am partner with Benatzi's counsels, 
 And in them was director. 1 have seen 
 The man do service in the wars late past, 
 Worthy an ample mention ; but of that 
 At large hereafter, repetitions now 
 Of good or bad, would straiten time, presented 
 For other use. 
 
 Mart. Welcome, and welcome ever. 
 
 Lev. Mine eyes, sir, never shall without a blush 
 Receive a look from yours ; please to forget 
 All passages of rashness ; such attempt 
 Was mine, and only mine. 
 
 Mai. You have found a way 
 
 To happiness; I honour the conversion. 
 
 Adur. Then I am freed. 
 
 Mai. May style your friend your servant. 
 
 Mart. Now all that's mine is theirs. 
 
 Adur. But let me add 
 
 An offering to the altar of this peace. 
 
 Aur. How likes Spinella this \ our holiday 
 Deserves the kalendar. 
 
 Spin. This gentlewoman 
 
 Reform'd, must in my thoughts live fair and worthy. 
 Indeed you shall. 
 
 Cast. And mine ; the novelty 
 
 Requires a friendly love. 
 
 Lev. You are kind and bountiful. 
 
 n^^TRELCATio, FuTELLi, Amoretta, Piero, 
 driving in Fulgoso and Guzman. 
 
 Trel. By your leaves, lords and ladies, to your 
 jollities, 
 \ bring increase with mine too ; here's a youngster
 
 SCENE II. THE LADY S TRIAL. 315 
 
 Whom I call son-in-law, for so my daughter 
 Will have it. 
 
 Amor. Yeth, in sooth thee will. 
 
 Trel. ^ Futelli 
 
 Hath wean'd her from this pain. 
 
 Piero. Stand forth, stout lovers. 
 
 Trel. Top and top-gallant pair ! And for his 
 pains, 
 She will have him or none. He*s not the richest 
 I'th' parish ; but a wit. I say, amen, 
 Because I cannot help it. 
 
 Amor. Tith no matter. 
 
 Aur. We'll remedy the penury of fortune ; 
 They shall with us to Corsica. Our cousin 
 Must not despair of means, since *tis believ*d 
 Futelli can deserve a place of trust. 
 
 Fut. You are in all unfellowed. 
 
 Amor. Withly thpoken. 
 
 Piero, Think oti Piero, sir. 
 , Aur, Piero, yes. 
 
 But what of these two pretty ones ? 
 
 Ful. rU follow 
 
 The ladies, play at cards, make sport, and whistle ; 
 My purse shall bear me out ; a lazy life 
 Is scurvy and debosh'd '; fight you abroad, 
 And weMl be game, whilest you fight, at home. 
 Run high, run low, here is a brain can do't ; 
 But for my martial brother Don, pr'ythee make him 
 A vvhat-d'ye call't ? a setting dog, a centinel : 
 I'll mend his weekly pay. 
 
 Guz. He shall deserve it. 
 
 Vouchsafe employment honourable. 
 
 ' Deboshed.'] This was the ancient way of spelling this wor4. 
 So in Fletcher's Monsieur Thomas : 
 
 " saucy fellows, 
 
 Deboshed and daily drankards."
 
 516 THE LADT's TRIAL. ACT V. 
 
 Ful. Marry, 
 
 The Don's a generous Don. 
 
 Aur. Unfit to lose him. 
 
 Command doth limit us short time for revels, 
 We must be thrifty in them. None, I trust. 
 Repines at these delights, they are free and harm- 
 less : 
 After distress at sea, the dangers o'er, 
 Safety and welcomes better taste ashore.
 
 EPILOGUE. 
 
 The court's on rising ; 'tis too late 
 To wish the lady in her fate 
 Of trial now more fortunate. 
 A verdict in the jury's breast^ 
 Will be giv'n up anon at least, 
 Till then 'tis fit we hope the best. 
 lse if there can be any stay, 
 Next sitting without more delay, 
 We will expect a gentle day.
 
 THE SUN'S DARLING. 
 
 A MORAL MASQUE. 
 
 BY JOHN FORD AND THOMAS DECKER.
 
 THE SUN'S DARLWG. 
 
 The Masque is the joint production of two authors, certainly 
 Dot of equal merit, but, in their day, of nearly equal popularly 
 ty. It would be in vain to assign the different scenes to the two 
 different poets who produced them ; and the usual practice of 
 editors, in these joint performances, of assigning the best parts 
 to the author whose works they arc editing, and the worst to 
 his colleague, is too invidious not to deserve reprehension. 
 Decker, besides some very valuable pamphlets, wrote a consi> 
 dcrable number of plays, and in several others assisted Massin- 
 ger, Rowley, Middleton, Webster, &c. The comedies of Old 
 Fortunatus, The Honest AVhore, and Satiromastrix, or the Un- 
 trussing of the Humorous Poet, an answer to an attack from 
 Ben Jonson, have very considerable merit. Oldys, in his MS. 
 notes on Langbaine, says that this veteran play-wright was ** full 
 three-score years old in 1638," and that " he was in King's 
 Bench prison between 1613 and 1616, and how much longer I 
 know not." 
 
 The following is the full title of the present Drama : " The 
 Sun's-Darling : A Moral Masque : As it hath been often pre- 
 sented by their Majesties servants, at the Cock-pit in Drury- 
 I^ne, with great applause. Written by John Foard and Tho. 
 Decker, Gent. [Then a wood-cut illustrative of the subject] 
 London, printed by T. Bell, for Andrew Penneycuicke, Anno 
 Dom. 1657. 4to." This masque was first presented in March 
 1623-4-, a fact ascertained by Mr Malone, which fixes the rank 
 it holds in the chronological order of our author's productions* 
 A metrical commendation by J. Tatham is prefixed^ which will 
 be found in the first volume. 
 
 VOL. H.
 
 to 
 
 THE RIGHT HONOURABLE 
 
 THOMAS WRIOTHESLEY, 
 
 EARL OF SOUTHAMPTON, 
 
 LORD WRIOTHESLEY, OF TITCHFIELD, &c. 
 
 MY LORD I 
 
 Herodotus reports, that the Egyptians, by wrap^ 
 ping their dead in glass, present them lively to all 
 posterity: but your lordship will do more, by the 
 vivifying beams of your acceptation revive the pa- 
 rents of this orphan poem, and make them live to 
 eternity. While the stage flourished, the poem 
 lived by the breath of general applauses, and the 
 virtual favour* of the court ; but since hath languish- 
 ed for want of heat, and now, near shrunk up with 
 cold, creeps, with a shivering fear, to extend itself 
 at the flames of your benignity. My lord, though 
 it seems rough and forlorn, it is the issue of worthy 
 parents, and we doubt not, but you will find it ac- 
 complished with their virtue. Be pleased then, 
 my lord, to give it entertainment ; the more desti- 
 tute and needy it is, the greater reward may be. 
 challenged by your charity ; and so, being sheltered 
 
 * Fervor.^ So the quarto rwwls.
 
 J24 DEDICATION. 
 
 under your wings, and comforted by the sunshine 
 otyour favour, it will become proof against the in- 
 justice of time, and, like one of Demetrius* statues, 
 appear fresher and fresher to all ages. My lord, 
 were we not con6dent of the excellence of the 
 piece, we should not dare to assume an impudence 
 to prefer' it to a person of your honour, and known 
 judgment ; whose hearts are ready sacrifices to your 
 name and honour, being, my lord, your lordship's 
 most humble and most obligedly submissive ser- 
 vants, 
 
 Theophilus Bird*. 
 
 Andrew Penneycuicke^ 
 
 * Prefert^ This verb was often used for offer, or proffer. 
 
 * See p. 225 of this volume. 
 
 ^ Andrew Penneycuicke, as well as Bird, was a performer of 
 reputation. His line of acting was princiitally confined to female 
 characters. 
 
 k^U* di
 
 Reader^ 
 
 It is not here intended to present thee with the perfect analogy 
 betwixt the world and man *, which was made for man ; nor 
 their co-existence, the world determining + with man : this, I 
 presume, hath been by others treated on : but, drawing the cur- 
 tain of this moral, you shall find him in his progression as foU 
 loweth : 
 
 The First Season, 
 
 Presents him in the tM'ilight of his age, 
 Not pot-gun-proof +, and yet he'll have his page : 
 This small knight-errant will encounter things 
 Above his perch, and like the partridge springs. 
 
 The Second Season : 
 
 Folly, his squire, the lady Humour brings. 
 
 Who in his car far sweeter novels sings. 
 
 He follows them ; forsakes the April queen, 
 
 And now the noon-tide of his age is seen. j 
 
 The Third Season. 
 
 As soon, as nerv'd with strength, he becomes weak. 
 Folly and Humour do his reason break ; ; 
 
 World and num.} In this age alles;ory was considered the most perftt 
 qimliticatioit of poeti-y ; every poem of reputation was supposed to contai a 
 continued sli-ain of mysterious significations. 'J he most terresthao, and tbre- 
 forc one of tlie most delightful of poets, Ariosto, was constniod to have wrten 
 with an apparent Icviiy, but with a deep and profound meaning, which, of coree, 
 the commentators took great pains to demonstrate. The " analogy bewixt 
 the worltl and man,'' or Macrocosmus and Microcosnjus, was particulTly a 
 favourite suhjcct, aud funiislied sjibjects for several poetical pieces, sch as 
 Sir John Davies's Microcosmus, the Moral Masque, of the same naic, by 
 Thomas Nabbes, and the present drama, which, we must confess, is, i; point 
 qf poetical merit, far surpassed by the performance last mentioned. 
 
 t Deteitninivg.] 'Ihis word is frequently employed by the old Mrrers for 
 tei'mmtting. 
 
 X A'of pot-gun ])roo/.] A pot-gun is a favourite plaything among b^8, cim- 
 ^stiug ot a hollow cane or reed. It is employed reproachfully iu tebster'g 
 Duchess of Malfy, Act III. sc. :>. 
 
 " I saw a Dutchman break his pate once 
 For calling him pot-gun ; he made his head 
 Have a bore like a musket." 
 
 Do.} ilic old copy reads ungrammatically doth, and in the next ne hwrries.
 
 326 PROLOGUE. 
 
 Hurry him from his noontide to his even : 
 From summer to his autumn he is driien. 
 
 The Fourth Season, 
 
 And now the winter, or his nonage, takes him ; 
 The sad remembranre of his errors wakes him ; 
 Folly and Humour fain he'd cast away, 
 But they will never leave him till he's clay. 
 Thus man as clay descends, ascends in spirit ; 
 Pust goes to dust j the soul unto its merit.
 
 DRAMATIS PERSONiE. 
 
 Ph(ebus, the Sun, 
 
 Raybright, the Sun*s Darling. 
 
 Lady Spring. 
 
 Youth, -j 
 
 Delight, V her attendanis. 
 
 Health, j 
 
 Summer. 
 
 Plenty. 
 
 Pomona. 
 
 Cupid. 
 
 Fortune. 
 
 Autumn. 
 
 Bacchanalian. 
 
 Bounty. 
 
 Winter. 
 
 Conceit. 
 
 Detraction. 
 
 Time. 
 
 Priest of the Sun. 
 
 Humour. 
 
 Folly. 
 
 A Soldier, 
 
 A Spaniard,
 
 328 
 
 DBAMATIS PERSONiE. 
 
 An Italian Dancer, 
 A French Tailor. 
 A Forester. 
 
 ^OLUS. 
 
 Markers, 
 Three Clowns. 
 
 I'.
 
 THE SUN'S DARLING. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE I. A Templewith an Altar. Ra ybright 
 discovered sleeping. 
 
 Enter the Priest of the Sun. 
 
 Priest. Let your tunes; you sweet voic'd spheres 
 o'ertake him : 
 Charm his fancies, ope his ears ; now awake him ! 
 
 [Music ', 
 
 SONG. 
 
 Fancies are but streams 
 
 Of vain pleasure : 
 Theu, ivho by their dreams 
 
 J me joys measure^ 
 
 * Music."] The old copy has (apparently a continuation of 
 
 'the speech, though at a little distance from it) begin. This was 
 
 no doubt a direction to the musicians to strike up, and, there. 
 
 fore, a correspondent stage.direction has been introduced in this 
 
 edition.
 
 330 TUE sun's darling. act I. 
 
 Feasting starve ^ laughing iceep. 
 Flaying smart ; whilst in sleep 
 Foolsy icith shadows smilingy 
 Wake and find 
 Hopes like windy 
 Idle hopes beguiling. 
 Thoughts fiy away ; Titne hath past them : 
 Wake now J awake / see and taste them ! 
 
 [Raybright waken, 
 
 Ray, That I might ever slumber, and enjoy 
 Contents as happy as the soul's best wishes 
 Can fancy or imagine ! *Tis a cruelty 
 Beyond example, to usurp the peace 
 1 sat enthron'd in. Who Mas't pluck'd me from it? 
 
 Friest. Young man, look hither ! 
 
 Ray. Good, I envy not 
 
 The pomp of your high office ; all preferment 
 Of earthly glories are to me diseases, 
 Infecting those sound parts which should preserve 
 The flatterine: retribution to my thankfulness. 
 The times are better to me ; there's no taste 
 Left on the palate of my discontent 
 To catch at empty hopes, whose only blessedness 
 Depends on being miserable. 
 
 Priest. Raybright, 
 
 Thou draw'st thy great descent from my grand 
 
 patron . ^ 
 
 The Sun, whose priest I am. 
 
 Ray. For small advantage : 
 
 He who is high-born never mounts yon battlements 
 Of sparkling stars, unless he be ' in spirit 
 
 ' Unlcxs he be.'] Old copy .unless / be. It may here be 
 obecrrcd, that thU play is by far the mo&t incorrectly printed 
 aiiioiig&t those of our author, even far more so than The Lady's 
 Trial. For this reason, Tcry obvioui corrections of single words 
 have not been always noticed.
 
 SCENE I. THE SUN's DARLIKG. 331 
 
 As humble as the child of one that sweats 
 To eat the dear-earn' d bread of honest thrift. 
 
 Priest. Hast thou not flow*d in honours ? 
 
 JRai/. Honours? I'd not be baited' with my fears 
 Of losing them, to be their monstrous creature 
 An age together. 'Tis besides as comfortable 
 To die upon th' embroidery of the grass 
 Unminded, as to set a world at gaze, 
 M' hilst from a pinnacle I tumble down 
 And break my neck, to be talk'd of and wonder'd at. 
 
 Priest. ^ ou have worn rich habits. 
 
 Ray. Fine ass-trappings. 
 
 A pedlar's heir, turn'd gallant, follows fashion *, 
 Can, by a cross- legg'd tailor, be transform' d 
 Into a jack-a-napes of passing bravery '. 
 *Tis a stout happiness to wear good clothes, 
 Yet live and die a fool ! Mew ! 
 
 Priest. You have had choice 
 
 Of beauties to enrich your marriage-bed. 
 
 JRay. Monkies and parakeetoes are as pretty 
 To play withal, tho' not indeed so gentle. 
 Jlonesty's indeed a fine jewel ; but the Indies 
 Where it grows is hard to be discover'd. 'Troth, 
 
 sir ! 
 I care for no long travels with lost labour. 
 
 ' Baited.^ Baiting is explained by Latham, to signify, in the 
 language of falconry, " when a hawke fluttereth with her wings, 
 either from the pearch or the man's fist, striving, as it were, to 
 tiie away or get libertie." This is of course chiefly the case be- 
 fore the hawk flies at the prey ; and to this the allusion in the 
 text seems to refer. " I'd not be baited with my fears of los- 
 ing them ;" or, 1 would not be pursued by the fear of losing the 
 honours, to be their creature for " an age together." 
 
 * Follows.^ 1 suspect we should read *' fuUoiting fashion." 
 This speech is not appropriated in the quarto. 
 
 3 iirorery,] Gorgeous apparel, lineiy.
 
 332 THE SUn'& DARLING. ACT I. 
 
 Priest. Pleasures of every sense have been your 
 servants, 
 Whenas you have commanded them. 
 
 Jia^, To threaten ruin, 
 
 Corrupt the purity of knowledge ; wrest 
 Desires of better life to those of this *, 
 This scurvy one, this life scarce worth the keeping. 
 
 Priest. 'Tis melancholy, and too fond indulgence 
 To your own duH'd affections, sway your judgment; 
 You could not else be thus lost, or suspect 
 The care your ancestor the Sun takes of you. 
 
 Pay. The care ? the scorn he throws on me. 
 
 Priest. Fie ! fie ? 
 
 Have you * been sent out into strange lands, 
 Seen courts of foreign kings ; by them been grac'd. 
 To bring home such neglect I 
 
 Pay. ' \ have reason for it. 
 
 Priest. Pray, shew it. 
 
 Pay. Since my coming home I have found 
 
 More sweets in one unprofitable dream, 
 Than in my hte*s whole pilgrimage. 
 
 Priest. Your fantasy 
 
 Misleads your judgment vainly. Sir, in brief, 
 I am to tell you, how I have received 
 From your progenitor, my lord the Sun, 
 A token, that he visibly will descend 
 From the celestial orb to gratify 
 All your wild longings. 
 
 * To (bote oj lilts.'] Old copy (hehc. The language of thin 
 lraina is sometimes Miigiilarly iuvohed. It is uncertain whether 
 we should attribute this to the obscurity which certainly often 
 occur* in tlic Mritini,s of Ford, to the inferior genius of his 
 colleague Dckker, or the blunders of the editors, Thcophilus 
 Bird and Andrew Pennycuicke. Haybright seems here to 
 cxcLiim against the otter of the Sun to gratify all his present 
 longings, by which his thinking on futurity would be proTonted. 
 
 * Have tfoii^ 5jc.] The interjection Fie! repeated before 
 these words, would reader the line metrical. 
 
 9
 
 SCENK^I. THE SUN S DARLING. 333 
 
 Ray. Very likely ! when, pray ? 
 
 The world the whilst shall be beholding to hiin 
 For a long night; new-married men will curse, 
 Though their brides tickle for't. Oh ! candle and 
 
 lanthorn 
 Will grow to an excessive rate i* th' city. 
 
 Priest. These are but flashes of a brain disorder- 
 ed. 
 Contain your flood of spleen in seemly bounds ; 
 Your eyes shall be your witness. 
 
 Ray. He may come. 
 
 EnUr Time mth a whip, whipping Folly in mean 
 attire before him. 
 
 Time. Hence, hence thou shame of nature, man- 
 kind's foil! 
 Time whips thee from the world, kicks thee, and 
 scorns thee. 
 Fol. Whip me from the world ! why whip! am 
 I a dog, a cur, a mongrel ? baw waw ! Do thy 
 worst, I defy thee ! \_Sinoif. 
 
 I will roar and squander^ 
 
 Cozen and he drunk too ; 
 I will maintain my pandar, 
 Keep my horse and punk too; 
 
 Brawl and sciiHie., 
 
 Shift and shuffie^ 
 Sicagger in my potmeals : 
 
 Damn-me's rank with ; 
 
 Do mad prank with 
 Roaring boys and oatmeals '. 
 
 ' Roaring hoys and oatmeals.'] The Roarers seem in these 
 times to have been as celebrated as the Mohocks in those of the 
 Spectator. The latter were probably no other than a continita- 
 tion of similar riotous associations, which, under various names, 
 contiaued to terrify the quiet citizcas, and furnish the glaziers
 
 334 THE SUN*S DARLING. ACT I. 
 
 Pox on time / I care not : 
 Being past, *tis nothing, 
 r/l be free and spare not, 
 Sorrows are life*s loathing: 
 
 Melancholtf 
 
 Is but folly ; 
 Mirth and youth are plotters. 
 
 Time go hang thee/ 
 
 I will bang thee, 
 Tho* I die in totters * . 
 
 urith employment. Ben Jonson introdaces in his admirable co- 
 medy of Bartholomew Fair, Val Cutting, a roarer; and this 
 terrible ap{)ellation occurs in several dramas of those days. Thus, 
 in Massinger's Renegado, Gazet exclaims, when witnessing the 
 destruction of his master's ware, by Donusa : 
 " A lady turn roarer, and break glasses!" 
 Again, in Webster's Duchess of Malfy : " They say your roar- 
 ing boyes eat seldom, and that makes them so valiant," A. II. sc. 1. 
 But the best information on the subject is contained in Middle, 
 ton and Rowley's comedy, A Faire Quarrel, A. II. : *' To the 
 roaring school ? pox on't, 'tis such a damnable noise; I shall nc- 
 Ter attain it neither. Trim. Well, you must learn to roare 
 here in London, you'll never proceed in the reputation of gaU 
 lantrie'else. Chaw. How lung has roaring been an exercise ?" &c. 
 The fourth act o|)ens with a roaring school, to which I refer the 
 curious reader. We have there the true language and behaviour 
 of a roarer. The former is not unlike that put into the mouth 
 of the literary bugbear Dr Juhnson, by Campbell, in his Ijcx'u 
 phancs. The latter consisted of bullying and bufl'cting persons 
 in the street ; two roarers quarrelling in incomprehensible Ian. 
 ^agc, and, finally, adjourning to a wine.cellar to make up their 
 dispute over a bottle. The oatmeals, which arc mentioned in 
 the same line in the text, were probably similar to the roar, 
 ing-boys ; but I have not been so fortunate as to discover any 
 other reference to their exploits, excepting the following title of 
 mn old pamphlet alludes to one of their order, '' A Quest of 
 Enqnirie by Women to know. Whether the Tripe-wife were trim- 
 med by Doll yea or no. Gathered by Oliver Oat-meale. Lon- 
 don, &c. 1595," 4to. See the British Bibliographer, L 34. 
 
 * Totters.^ Old copy reads cotters. I am unable to disco- 
 Ter any passage in support of the ancient reading. Tatters is 
 evidently the aieaniog intended ; and as to the present alteratioB
 
 5CENE I. THE SUN S DARLING. 335 
 
 And what think you of this, you old doating, 
 nioth-eaten, bearded rascal ? As I am Folly by the 
 mother's side, and a true-bred gentleman, 1 will 
 sing thee to death, it' thou vex me. Cannot a man 
 of fashion, for his pleasure, put on, now and then, 
 his working-day robes of humility, but he must pre- 
 sently be subject to a beadle's rod of correction ! 
 Go, mend thyself, cannibal ! 'tis not without need; 
 1 am sure the times were never more beggarly and 
 proud : waiting-women flaunt it in cast-suits, and 
 their ladies fall for 'em ; knaves over-brave wise 
 men, while wise men stand with cap and knee to 
 fools'. Pitiful time ! pitiful time! 
 
 Time. Out fool! prodigious and abortive birth! 
 Behold ! the sand-glass of thy days is broke. 
 
 FoL Bring me another ! I'll shatter that too. 
 
 Time. No, thou hast mis-spent thy hours, lavish 
 fool. 
 Like the circuit of thy life, in ceaseless riots : 
 It is not therefore fit, that thou should'st live 
 In such a court, as the Sun's majesty 
 Vouchsafes to illuminate with his bright beams. 
 
 Fol. In any court, father bald-pate, where my 
 grannam the Moon shews her horns, except the 
 Consistory Court ; and there she need not appear, 
 cuckolds carry such sharp stilettos in their fore- 
 heads. I'll live here and laugh at the bravery of 
 ignorance, maugre* thy scurvy and abominable 
 hatred. 
 
 into toiterSf greater adulterations of words have been made in sa. 
 crifice to rhyme, in ancient as wdl as in modern times. 
 
 * Cap and knee.'] Both capping (taking off the cap) and 
 kneeling, were salutations required by superiors. Of thu former 
 an instance occurs in Othello : 
 
 " Three great oties of tiie citj-, 
 
 In personal suit to make rac his lieutenant, 
 Ot't cttpp'd to liiin." 
 
 * Maugrey] In spite of.
 
 336 THE sun's darling. act I. 
 
 Titne. Priest of the sun, 'tis near about the mi- 
 nute 
 Thy patron will descend. Scourge hence this triffe ? 
 Time is ne*er lost, till in the common schools 
 Of impudence, time meets with wilful fools. [Exit. 
 
 Fol. Farewell 1538'! I might have said five>- 
 thousand, but the other's long enough o' conscience/' 
 to be honest-condition'd. Pox on him ! It's a not-* ^ 
 able railing whipper of a plain Time-whipper. 
 
 Priest. You heard the charge he left. 
 
 Fol. Ay, ay, a' may give a charge ; a* has beenl' 
 a petty court-holder ever since he was a minute 
 old ; he took you for a foreman of a jury. 
 
 Ray. Pray, sir, what are you ? 
 
 Fol. No matter what ; what are you ? 
 
 Ray. Not as you are, I thank my better fates ; 
 I am grandchild to the Sun. 
 
 Fol. And 1 am cousin-german, some two or three 
 hundred removes off, to the Moon, and my name is 
 Folly. 
 
 Ray. Folly, sir? of what quality ? 
 
 Fol. Quality? Any quality in fashion: drink- 
 ing, whorinof, singing, dancing, dicing, swearing, 
 roaring, foisting*, lying, cogging', canting, et ce- 
 tera. Will you have any more? 
 
 ^ FarcTcell 1538!] I suspect wc should read 1638. The 
 masque, as has been said aboTc, was produced in March 1623-4 ; 
 but that 1638 is the year mentioned in the text, as referring to 
 the <hen present year, is easily accounted for, by supposing 
 that the players altered the numl)er, according to each jwriod 
 of representation. As there is no d()ui>t that this play was print- 
 ed from their copies, the alteration may thus easily be accounlod 
 for, and 1638 may have been the last year of its performance. 
 
 * Foisting.l Foisting is explained by Cotgrare's Continua. 
 tor, to signify, menterie, sornette; lying, jesting, &c. In Dek- 
 ker's Belman,a/ot/is described as a cant- word for a pick-pocket, 
 and as such is employed in his aud Middleton's comedy of The 
 Roaring Girl, or Moll Cut-pnrsc. As Dckker probably wrote the
 
 SCENE I. THE SUN's DARLIN^. 337 
 
 Ray, You have a merry heart, if you can guide 
 it. 
 
 Fol. Yes, *faith ! so, so. I laugh not at those 
 whom 1 fear; I fear not those whom I love; and I 
 love not any whom 1 laugh not at: Pretty strange 
 humour; is t not? 
 
 Ray. To any one, that knows you not, it is. 
 
 Priest. You must avoid. [^Music of Recorders*, 
 
 Fol. Away, away ! I have no such meaning, in- 
 deed, la ! 
 
 Priest. Hark, the fair hour is come ; draw to the 
 altar, 
 And, with amazement, reverence and comfort. 
 Behold the broad-ey*d lamp of heaven descending! 
 Stand ! 
 
 present scene, he undoubtedly uses the word in the latter, signifi. 
 cation. 
 
 ^ Coggingyl Playing Avith false dice ; also flattery, lying, &c. 
 Here used in the former sense, in which it occurs also in Love's 
 Ijabours Lost : 
 
 " Since you can coi^, I'll play no more with you." 
 Again, in the sense of lying, in Vlpian Fulwell's First Part of the 
 Eighth Liberal Science, entitled, Ars Adulandi, The Arte ofp'lat- 
 terie. Lond. 1597, 4. : " Lo, here is Cretensis cum Cretense, a 
 cogginge knauc with a lying varlett ^ell met : he with his Her- 
 haltry, and you with your Hemphaltry, I trust anon will make 
 a good medley." And in the same: " There stood afar off, i 
 simple sot named V. F. [Vlpian Fulwell], and when hee saw how 
 Mercury was fauoured for his cogging, perswaded himself that 
 he by sjicakinge the tnieth should be right well regarded." 
 
 ' Recorders.^ " Lord Bacon, in his Natural History, Cent. iii. 
 ,sect. 221, speaks of recorder* and flutes at the same time, and 
 says, that the recorder hath a less bore, and a greater, above and 
 below ; and elsewhere. Cent. ii. sect. 187, he speaks of it as ha- 
 ving six holes, in which respect it answers to the Tibia minor of 
 Mersennus. From all which particulars, it should seem that the 
 ilute and the recorder were different instruments, and that the 
 latter, in propriety of speech, was no other than the flageolet." 
 Uazokins's Hist, of Music, Vol. IV. p. 479. See Iktuce's !! 
 lustrations of Shakespeare, Vol. IL p. 248. 
 
 VOL. II Y
 
 35S THE sun's darling. ACT I. 
 
 The Sun appears above. 
 
 Fel. Oh, brave ! 
 Priest. Stand ! 
 
 SONG. 
 
 Glorious and bright ! lo, here we bend 
 before thy throne^ tremblings attend 
 Thy sacred pleasures : be pleas* d then 
 To show'r thy comforts down^ that men 
 May freely taste in life's extremes 
 The influence of thy powerful dreams. 
 
 Rau. Let not my fate too swiftly run, 
 Till thou acknowledge me thy son. 
 Oh ! there's no joy even from the womb 
 Of frailty, till we be called home. 
 
 Fol. Now, am 1 an arrant rascal, and cannot 
 speak one word for myself, if I were hanged. 
 
 Sun. Raybright ! 
 
 Priest. It calls you : answer ! 
 
 Ray. Lord and Father ! 
 
 Sun. We know thy cares ; appear to give release- 
 Boldly make thy demands, for we will |f)lease 
 To grant whate er thou say'st for. 
 
 Ray. Fair-beam'd sir ! 
 
 I dare not greedily prefer 
 Eternity of Earth's delights, 
 Before that duty which invites 
 My filial piety : in this 
 Your love shall perfect my heart's bliss, 
 If I but for one only year. 
 Enjoy the several pleasures here, 
 Which ' every season in his kind, 
 Can bless a mortal with. 
 
 ' Whieh.'] Old copy, rcith. The alteration is so indlspen. 
 sably necessary, that no defence of it can be required.
 
 SCENE I. THE SrN*S DARLINQ. 339 
 
 Sun. I find 
 
 Thy reason breeds thy appetite, and grant it. 
 Thou raaster*st thy desire, and shalt not want it. 
 To the Spring-garden let him be conveyed, 
 And entertain'd there by that lovely maid ; 
 All the varieties the Spring can shew, 
 Be subject to his will. 
 
 Priest. Light's lord ! we go. 
 
 \^E.veunt Priest and Raybright. 
 
 Fol. And I will follow, that am not in love with 
 such fopperies. \_Exit. 
 
 Sun. We must descend, and leave a while our 
 sphere 
 To greet the world. Ha? there does now appear* 
 A circle in this round, of beams that shine 
 As if their friendly lights would darken mine : 
 No, let them shine out still, for these are they, 
 By whose sweet favours, when our warmths decay, 
 Even in the storms of winter, daily nourish 
 Our active motions, which in summer flourish, 
 By their fair quick'ning dews of noble loves : 
 Oh, may you all, like stars, whilst swift time moves, 
 Stand fix'd in firmaments of blest content ! 
 Meanwhile [the] recreations we present, 
 Shall strive to please. 1 have the foremost tract : 
 Each Season else begins and ends an Act. [^Exit. 
 
 * This is one of the common-place compliments to the King, 
 so essential in masques, which were expressly written for the 
 court.
 
 S40 TUE SUN S DARLING. ACT II. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 SCENE I. The Garden <>/" Spring. 
 
 Enter Spring, Raybuight, Youth, Health, 
 and Delight. 
 
 Spring. Welcome the mother of the year, the 
 
 Spring': 
 That mother, on whose back Age ne*er can sit, 
 For Age still waits upon her; that Spring, the 
 
 nurse 
 Whose milk the Summer sucks, and is made wan- 
 ton ; 
 Physician to the sick, strength to the sound ; 
 By whom all things above and under-ground ' 
 Are quicken'd with new heat, fresh blood, brave 
 
 vigour. 
 That Spring on thy fair cheeks in kisses lays 
 Ten thousand welcomes, free as are those rays. 
 From which thy name thou borrow'st : glorious 
 
 name ! 
 Raybright, as bright in person as in fame. 
 
 Ray. Your eyes amaz'd me first; but now mine 
 
 ears 
 Feel your tongue's charms, in you move all the 
 
 spheres. 
 Oh, lady ! 'would the Sun, which gave me life, 
 Had never sent me to you. 
 
 Spring. Why! all my veins 
 
 Shrink up, as if cold Winter were come back, 
 
 * This speech is most absurdly pointed in the old copy, lu 
 the first line, Spring bids Uaybright welcome her as the mother 
 of the year. 
 
 * Under-ground.^ Old copy, Under-round.
 
 SCENE I. THE SUN*S DARLING. 341 
 
 And with his frozen beard had numb'd my lips 
 To hear that sigh fly from you. 
 
 Ray. Round about me 
 
 A firmament of such full blessings shine, 
 I in your sphere seem a star more divine 
 Than in my father's chariot, should I ride 
 One year about the world in all his pride. 
 
 Spring. Oh! that sweet breath revives me: if 
 thou never 
 I'art'st hence, as part thou shalt not, be happy ever. 
 
 liay. I know 1 shall. 
 
 Spring. Thou', to buy whose state 
 
 Kings would lay down their crowns, fresh Youth. 
 
 wait, 
 (I charge thee !) on my darling. 
 
 Youth. Madam, I shall, 
 
 And on his smooth cheek such sweet roses set, 
 You still shall sit to gather them*, and when 
 Their colours fade, braver^ shall spring again. 
 
 Spring. Thou, without whom they that have )lls 
 of gold 
 Are slaves and wretches, Health ! that canst nf be 
 
 sold 
 Nor bought, I charge thee make his heart a tver 
 Guarded, for there lies the Spring's paramour 
 
 Health. One of my hands is writing still ijHea- 
 ven. 
 For that's Health's library; th' other on th<fearth, 
 
 * Thou."] This speech is found in the following banner io 
 the old quarto, and will convey some idea how full ' corrup. 
 tions that copy is : 
 
 " Thou to buy, whose state? 
 Kings would lay down their crowns, fresh Vouth wai ^'c< 
 
 Both these lines are still deficient in one syllable. 
 
 * Tliem.'] Old copy, then. 
 
 ' Braver.^ Old copy, braTe.
 
 342 THE sun's darling. ACT II. 
 
 Is physic's treasurer, and what wealth those lay 
 Up for my queen, all shall his will obey. 
 
 Ray. Mortality sure falls from me. 
 
 Spring. Thou ! to whose tunes 
 
 The five nice senses dance ; thou, that dost spin 
 Those golden threads all women love to wind, 
 And but for whom, man would cut off mankind. 
 Delight ! not base, but noble, touch thy lyre, 
 And fill my court with brightest Delphic fire. 
 
 Del. Hover you wing'd musicians in the air ! 
 Clouds, leave your dancing ! No winds stir but 
 fair ! 
 
 Heallh. Leave blust'ring March 
 
 Song by Delight. 
 
 What bird so sings, yet so docs wail ! 
 *Tis Philomel, the nightingale : 
 
 'f'^ggyJ^gH'iJ'^gg^ '^'"^ *^ cries. 
 
 And, hating earth, to heaven sheJiies.-^Cuckow. 
 
 Ha, ha, hark, hark,/ the cuckoins sing 
 
 Cuckow, to welcome in the Spring. 
 
 Brave prick-song^ ! who is t now wc hear/ 
 
 *Tis the lark's silver lecr-a-lcer. 
 
 Chirrup the sparrow flies away : 
 
 For he fell to't ere break of day. 
 
 Ha, ha, hark, hark! the cuckows sing 
 
 Cuckow, to welcome in the Spring*. 
 
 ' rich-song.'] A song regulated by notes. Ilcntc, the coni- 
 inon pression, to prick notes, instead of to zsrife thera. Prickm 
 xon^ as opposed to plain-song, the former being written or 
 ^)rttA,down, and the latter resting more in tlic will of the singer, 
 being,, fact, a species of extempore music. So in Microcosmus, 
 ty Nas : 
 
 " I wtd have all lovcrg be^in and end tlieir prrk-song with Lacliryma:.'' 
 See Rccs note \ipon this passage (Old I*lays, Vol. IX. p. 132), 
 ^nd Sir .hn Hawkins's Hist, of Music, Vol. II. p. 243. 
 
 * Thisong was inserted in Blount's edition of Lily's Ale^n^
 
 SCENE I. THE SUN S DARLING. 343 
 
 Spring. How does my sun-born sweetheart like 
 his queen, 
 Her court, her train ? 
 Ray. Wond'rous ; such ne*er were seen. 
 
 Health.. Fresher and fresher pastimes ! one de- 
 light 
 Is a disease to th' wanton appetite. 
 
 Del. Music take Echo's voice, and dance quick 
 rounds 
 To thine own times in repercussive sounds. 
 
 \Exit. An echo of Cornets. 
 Spring. Enough ! I will not weary thee. Plea- 
 sures, change : 
 Thou, as the Sun in a free zodiac range. 
 
 Re-enter Delight. 
 Del. A company of rural fellows, facM' 
 
 dcr and Campaspe, which was not published till 1632. It docs 
 not occur in the first edition of that play, printed in 1584-, nor 
 in the second, with the date 1691. The Sun's Darling, as before 
 observed, was presented in 1623, nine years before Blount's Col. 
 lection of the Court Comedies appeared ; so that it is at least 
 doubtful who was the author of this beautiful ditty. Very pos- 
 sibly, neither our authors, nor Lily, wrote it, as it may have been 
 introduced into both their dramas as a popular song. The va- 
 riations, as it stands in Alexander and Campaspe, are so bcauti* 
 ful, that the whole is here subjoined, distinguishing the differ, 
 ences by italics : 
 
 " What bird so sings, yet so does wail? 
 O, 'tis the ruciah'd nightingale. 
 J"g> jg J"S. jug> terea she crye, 
 Ami still her woes at tmdaight rise. 
 Brave prick-song ! wlio is't now we hear? 
 Noru' but the lark so shill and clear ; 
 How at heaven's gates she claps her Kt'ng'S, 
 The mom not leaking till she si)igs. 
 Hark, hark, with u-hat a petty throat, 
 Poor robin red-breast tunes his note ; 
 Hark, how Xhe jolly cuckoes sing, 
 Ciickoe to welcome iu the spring, 
 Cuckoe to welcome in tlie spring." 
 
 * FflcVj] Attired. Perhaps from the facings of garments,
 
 344 THE sun's DARLING. ACT II. 
 
 ]Like lovers of your laws, beg to be grac'd 
 Before your highness, to present their sport. 
 
 Spring. What is't? 
 
 IJei. A raorris'. 
 
 Spring. Give them our court! 
 
 Stay ! these dull birds may make thee stop thine 
 
 ear. 
 Take thou my lightning! none but laurel* here 
 Shall *scape thy blasting: Whom thou wilt con- 
 found 
 Smite ; let those stand, who in thy choice sit 
 crown'd. 
 
 Hai/. Let these then ; I may surfeit else on sweets ; 
 Sound sleeps do not still lie in prince's sheets. 
 
 Spring. Beckon tlie rurals in ; the country-gray 
 Seldom ploughs treason. Should'st thou be stol'u 
 
 away 
 By great ones, that's my fear. 
 
 Hat/. Fear it not, lady ; 
 
 Should all the world's black sorceries be laid 
 To blow me hence, I move not. 
 
 ivhich were generally turned up with different colours, ,,So in 
 King Henry IV. ^ 
 
 " To face the garment of rebellion 
 Witli some fine colour." 
 
 ^nd in the Interlude of Nature : 
 
 " His hose shall be freshly garded 
 AVUh colours two or three." 
 
 * The curious subject of Morris-dancers has rccciTcd such 
 ample illastratiuns in the late valuable jiublication of Mr Douce, 
 that I need only refer my readers to his work, and to the rario. 
 rum editions of Shakes |)eii re. The best representation of them 
 is on an ancient picture in the possession of i>ord Fitzwilliam, 
 an engraving of which is introduced in my friend Mr Maurice's 
 elegant descriptive poem, entitled Richmond Hill. The same fi- 
 gures arc copied on a larger scale in Mr Douce's Illustrations. 
 
 * Laurel.} It is well known, that, according to the ancient 
 mythology, an exemption from the powers of lightning was 
 granted to the laurel-trec.
 
 SCENE I. THE SUN's DARLING. 3iJ 
 
 Spring. I am made 
 In that word the Earth's empress. 
 
 A Morris Dance. 
 
 Are not these sports too rustic ] 
 
 JRay. No ; pretty and pleasing. 
 
 Spring. My youngest girl, the violet-breathing 
 May, 
 Being told by Flora that my love dwelt here, 
 Is come to do you service ; will you please 
 To honour her arrival ? 
 
 JRai/. 1 shall attend. 
 
 Spring. On then, and bid the rosy-fingered 
 May' 
 Rob hills and dales, and sweets to strew his way. 
 
 \_Exit with attendants. 
 
 Ray An empress, say'st thou, faU'n in love with 
 me ? 
 
 Fol, She's a great woman, and all great women 
 love to be empresses; her name, the lady Humour. 
 
 Bay. Strange name ! I never saw her, know her 
 not : 
 AVhat kind of creature is she ? 
 
 Fol Creature ? of a skin soft as pomatum, sleek 
 as jelly, white as blanched almonds ; no mercer's 
 wife ever handled yard with a prettier breath, sweet 
 as a monkey's ; lips of cherries, teeth of pearl, eyes 
 of diamond, foot and leg as 
 
 Ray. And what's thy name \ 
 
 Fol. *Tis but a folly to tell it; my name is Folly. 
 
 Ray. Humour and Folly ! To my listening ear 
 Thy lady's praises often have been sung ; 
 The trumpet, sounding forth her graceful beauties. 
 Kindles high flames within me to behold her. 
 
 ' Another morris-dance is announced here in tlie old copy, 
 of which there is no indication in the te%t.
 
 :JI(> THE sun's DABLl^TG. ACT If. 
 
 Fol. She's as hot as you for your heart. 
 
 Ray. This lady, called the Spring, is au odd trifle. 
 
 Fol. A green-sickness thing. 1 came by the 
 way of a hobby-horse letter-of-attorney, sent by my 
 lady as a spy to you. Spring! a hot lady, a few fields 
 and gardens lass ! Can you feed upon sallads and 
 tansies I eat like an ass upon grass every day at my 
 lady's ? Comes to you now a goose, now a wood- 
 cock ; nothing but fowl ; fowl pies, platters all 
 covered with Tbwl, and is not fowl very good fare ? 
 
 Ray. Yea, marry is*t, sir; the fowl being kept 
 clean '. 
 My admiration wastes itself in longings 
 To see this rare piece: I'll see her; what are kings. 
 Were not their pleasures varied ] Shall not mine, 
 
 then ? 
 Should day last ever^ 'twould be loath'd as night. 
 Change is the sauce that sharpens appetite. 
 The way ] I'll to her. 
 
 FoL The way is windy and narrow : for, look 
 you, I do but wind this cornet, and if another an- 
 swer it, she comes. 
 
 Ray. Be quick then ! 
 
 [Folly blows his comet , and is answered 
 from without. 
 
 Enter Humour, a Soldier^ a Spaniard, an Italian 
 {lancer, a French tailor. 
 
 Hum. Is this that flower the Spring so dotes 
 
 upon ? 
 Fol, This is that honeysuckle she sticks in her 
 ruff*. 
 
 ' Fozcl.'] A qaibble, and, in truth, a miserable quibble, 
 vpon the substantive /ok/ and the adjective /ou/. A few speeches 
 lower down, another still more silly occurs between winding 
 and windy.
 
 SCENE I. THE SUN^S DARLING. 34? 
 
 Hum. A bedfellow for a fairy ! 
 
 Ray. Admir'd perfection ! 
 
 You set my praises to so high a tune, 
 My merits cannot reach them. 
 
 Hum. My heart-strings shall then, 
 
 As mine eye gives that sentence on thy person, 
 And never was mine eye a corrupt judge; 
 That judge to save thee would condemn a world, 
 And lose mankind to gain thee: 'tis not the Spring, 
 With all her gaudy arbours, nor perfumes 
 Sent up in flattering incense to the Sun, 
 For shooting glances ' at her, and for sending 
 Whole choirs of singers to her ever}^ morn. 
 With all her amorous fires, can heat thy blood 
 As I can with one kiss. 
 
 Ray. The rose-lipp'd dawning 
 
 Is not so melting, so delicious. 
 Turn me into a bird, that I may sit 
 Still singing in such boughs. 
 
 Fol. What bird ! 
 
 Sol. A ringtail. 
 
 Hum. Thou shalt be turn'd to nothing but to 
 mine. 
 My mine of treasures, which no hand shall rifle 
 But this, which in warm nectar bathes the palm. 
 Invent some other tires* ! Music ! Stay, none ! 
 
 Fol. Heyday ! 
 
 Hum. New gowns, fresh fashions ! I'm not brave ^ 
 enough 
 To make thee wonder at me. 
 
 * Glances^'] Old copy, glamcs. 
 
 * TtreSf] Attires, dresses, restments. So in Bishop Corbet's 
 earcastic verses on Mistress Mallet : 
 
 " Wlietlier her witte, forme, talke, smile, tu-e 1 name, 
 Each is a stock of tyrauny and shame." 
 
 5 Bravey] Well-dressed, gorgeously habited.
 
 34* THE sun's darling. act II. 
 
 Ray. Not the moon, 
 
 Riding at midnight in her crystal chariot, 
 With all her courtiers in their robes of stars, 
 Is half so glorious. 
 
 Hum. This feather was a bird of Paradise : 
 Shall it be your's ? 
 
 Ilaif. No kingdom buys it from me. 
 
 Fol. Being in fool's paradise he must not lose 
 his bauble '. 
 
 Bay. 1 am wrapt. 
 
 Fol. In your mother's smock. 
 
 Kay. I'm wrapt above man's being, in being 
 sphered 
 In such a globe of rarities. But say, lady, 
 What these are that attend you. 
 
 Hum. All my attendants 
 
 Shall be to thee sworn servants. 
 
 Fol. Folly is sworn to him already never to leave 
 him. 
 
 Ray. He? 
 
 Fol. A French gentleman, that trails a Spanish 
 pike * : a tailor. 
 
 Tail. Wee, mounsieur ; hey nimbla upon de 
 cros caper ; me take a de measure of de body 
 from de top a* de noddle to de heel and great toe ; 
 oh 'stish de fine ! dis coller is cut out in anger 
 scurvy. Oh, dis beeshes pincha de bum ; me put 
 one French yard into de toder hose. 
 
 Fol. No French yards : thev want a vard at least. 
 
 Ray. Shall I be brave then ? 
 
 ' lieiiig in fool" s paradise^ he must not lose his btiuble.~\ Fol- 
 \j in this play personates the fool, and carries the bauble of 
 course. Fool's |)aradisc is the same with the celebrated land 
 Cockaigne, the Cuccagna of the Italians : a fiction which seems 
 to haTc prevailed amongst almost all nations of biUropc. 
 
 * Spanish pike.^ I cannot fliscorer the force of this allusion^ 
 except it be to the thinness of the tailor's legs.
 
 SCENE I. THE SUN's DARLING. 349 
 
 Hum. Golden as the sun. 
 
 Kaif. What's he that looks so smirkly ' ? 
 
 FoL A flounder in a frying-pan, stili skipping; 
 one that loves mutton so well, he always carries 
 capers about him ; his brains lie in his legs, and 
 his legs serve him to no other use than to do 
 tricks, as if he had bought 'em of a juggler. He's 
 an Italian dancer, his name 
 
 Dan. Signor Lavolta, messer mio ; me tesha all 
 de bella corantoes, gagliardas, piamettas, capeoret- 
 tas, amorettas, dolce dolce, to declamante do bona 
 robas de Toscana *. 
 
 * Sviirkly^l The old copy reads, smkklif. 
 
 3 Coraiitos and galliards Avere favourite dances at the time this 
 play was written. So were probably the less known amoretta's, 
 jnainettci'sy &c. Capeoretta should probably be spelt capretta, 
 as the dance no doubt derived the name from capretta, It. a kid. 
 The following is the description Sir John Davies gives of the 
 galliard, the most popular of these dances : 
 
 " But for nioif lUversc and more pleasing show, 
 A swift and wand'riug dance she did invent, 
 With passages uncertain to and fro, 
 Yet with a certain answer and consent 
 To the quick music of the instrument. 
 Five was tlie number of the music's feet, 
 ^Vhich still the dance did with five paces meet. 
 
 A gallaut dance, that lively doth bewray 
 
 A spirit and a virtue masculine, 
 
 Impatient that her house ou earth should stay, 
 
 Suice she liereelf is fiery and divine : 
 
 Oft dotli she make her body upward fine; 
 
 With lofty turns an' I capriols in the air. 
 
 Which with the lusty tunes accordeth fair." 
 
 The name of this dance, like the word jigg, seems to have 
 been transferred from a dance to a ballad. Thus an old ballad is 
 entitled, *' The Western Jigg, or a Trenchmorc Gailiard." 
 The poem above quoted gives the following account of the co- 
 ran to : 
 
 ' What shall I name those current traverses 
 Tlrat on a triple dactyl foot do nm 
 Close by the ground witli sliding passage:?. 
 Wherein tliat dauccr greatest praise iiath won 
 Which with best order can all orders shun :
 
 850 THE SUN*S DARLING. ACT II. 
 
 Ray. I ne'er shall be so nimble. 
 
 Fol. Yes, if you pour quicksilver into your shin- 
 bones, as he does. 
 
 Ray. This now ] 
 
 Fol. A most sweet Spaniard. 
 
 Span. A conteccianador, which in your tongue 
 is, a comfitmaker, of Toledo. 1 can teach sugar to 
 slip down your throat a million of ways. 
 
 Fol. And the throat, has but one in all ; oh, To- 
 ledo ! 
 . Span. In conserves, candies, marmalades, siii- 
 
 For everj'wbere he wantonly niitst range. 
 And turn and wind witli unexpected change." 
 
 And of the Lavolta, which is used here for the name of the duiu 
 cer : 
 
 " Yet is there one the most delij;hlful kind, 
 
 A lofty jampin? or a leaping round, 
 
 Where arm in arm, two dancers are entwin'd, 
 
 And whirl themselves with strict einhracemeuts round, 
 
 And slill their feet an anapcst do sound : 
 
 An anapest is all their music- song, 
 
 Whose tirst two teet are liiort, and third is long." 
 
 * Toledc.'] From these passages it would appear that Spain, 
 aud more particularly Toledo, at that time, fjiniislicd the most 
 celebrated pastry-cooks, which have since been chiefly imported 
 from France. The beren^rcna's of Toledo are a kind of pum. 
 pions. The nature of conserves, candies, mannalades, and ly- 
 mons is still well known. Orijoncs arc peaches dried and jjre- 
 scrved with sugar. Sinkado is probably corrupted from sinca- 
 dilla^ a kind of mushroom. For ponadocs we should perhaps 
 read pomados, which may have been a sort of apples preserved. 
 Arunxucs muria was jirobably some confection fabricated at 
 Aranjuez. Uergamom was most likely a preserve of bergamot. 
 pears. Marablane is perhaps a corruption of marchpane^ a con. 
 fcction composed of fUberts, almonds, pistachoes, pine-kcrncls, 
 and floor, and a very popular desert on the tables of our anccs. 
 tors. Malaga potatoes were probably a particular species of 
 potatoes, dressed by the confectioner in a particular manner. 
 That these artisans had them under their charge, apjjears from 
 Gerard's Herbal : *' Potatoes may serve as a ground or found, 
 dation whereon (be cunning confectioner or sugar-baker may
 
 SCENE I. THE SUN S DARLING. 551 
 
 kadoes, poiiadoes, marablane, bergamom, aranxues 
 muria, lymous, berengenas of Toledo, oriones, po- 
 tatoes of Malaga, and ten millions more. 
 
 FoL Now 'tis ten millions ; a Spaniard can mul- 
 tiply. 
 
 Span, I am your servndor. 
 
 Hay. My palate pleas'd too ! What's this last ! 
 
 Sold. I am a gun that can roar, two stilettoes ia 
 one sheath ; 1 can fight and bounce too. My lady, 
 by me, presents this sword and belt to you. 
 
 Ray. Incomparable mistress ! 
 
 Hum. Put them on ! 
 
 Sold, ril drill you how to give the lie, and stab in 
 the punto ; if you dare not fight, then how to vamp 
 a rotten quarrel without ado. 
 
 Ray. How \ dare not fight ! there's in me the 
 Sun's fire. 
 
 Hum. No more of this ! Dances ! Awake the mu- 
 sic! O yes ! music 1 
 
 Ray. No more of this ! the sword arms me for 
 battle. 
 
 Hum. Come then ; let thou and I rise up in 
 arms ; 
 The field embraces, kisses our alarms. 
 
 Fol. A Dancer and a tailor? yet stand still ! Strike 
 up. [^Nlusic. A Dance, 
 
 Enter Spring, Health, Youth, Delight. 
 
 Spring. Oh, thou enticing strumpet ! how durst 
 thou 
 Throw thy voluptuous spells about a temple, 
 That's consecrate to me ? 
 
 worke and frame many comfortable conserves and restoratlTe 
 sweetmeats." Also, in Marston's Satires, 1599: 
 
 campliire and letticc chaste, 
 
 Are now cashier'd now Sophi 'lingoes eate ; 
 Candi'd potatoes are Atheuiani' meate."
 
 362 THE SUN*S DARLING. ACT II. 
 
 Hum. Poor Spring, goody herb-wife ! 
 
 How dar'st thou cast a glance on this rich jewel, 
 I have bought for my own wearing I 
 
 Spring. Bought.! art thou sold then ? 
 
 Ray. Yes, with her gifts ; she buys me with her 
 
 graces. 
 Health. Graces ! a witch ! 
 
 Spring. What can she give thee { 
 
 Rat/. All things. 
 
 Spring. Which 1 for one bubble can ' add a sea to. 
 Fol. And shew him a hobby-horse in my likeness. 
 Spring. My Raybright, hear me : 1 regard not 
 
 these. 
 Ray. What dowry can j'^ou bring me ? 
 Spring, Dowry ? ha ! 
 
 Is't come to this! am I held poor and base ! 
 A girdle make, whose buckles, stretched to ih' 
 
 length, 
 Shall reach from th* arctic to the antarctic pole : 
 What ground soe'er thou canst with that enclose 
 rU give thee freely ; not a lark, that calls 
 The morning up, shall build on any turf 
 IJut she shall be thy tenant, call thee lord. 
 And for her rent pay thee in change of songs. 
 Ray. I must turn bird-catcher. 
 Fol. Do you think to have him for a song ? 
 Hum. Live with me * stilly and all the meansurcft, 
 Play'd to by the spheres., Fll teach thee ; 
 Lei's but thus dully, all the pleasures 
 
 The moon beholds, her man ^ shall reach 
 thee. 
 
 * Can,"] Old copy, cannot. 
 
 * Live xcith wie] The author was probably thinking of Mar- 
 low*s beautiful song : 
 
 '* 1 JVC with me and be my lo\ e," &c. 
 
 * Her inan.'\ This is a singular allusion to the popolar su- 
 perstition of the Man in the Moon, which has iN^rvadcd all ages.
 
 SCENE I. THE SUN S DARLING. 363 
 
 Ray. Divinest ! 
 Fol. Here's a lady. 
 Spring. \st come to who gives most ! 
 The self-same bay-tree, into which was turn'd 
 Peneian Daphne, I have still kept green ; 
 That tree shall now be thine : about it sit 
 All the old poets, with fresh laurel crownM, 
 Singing in verse the praise of chastity ; 
 Hither when thou shalt come, they all shall rise, 
 Sweet cantos of thy love and mine to sing, 
 And invoke none but thee as Delian king. 
 Ray. Live by singing ballads ! 
 Fol. Oh, base ! turn poet? I would not be one 
 myself. 
 
 Hum. Dwell in mine arms! aloft we* II hover ^ 
 And see fields of armies fighting : 
 Oh part not from me ! F II discover 
 
 There all, but * books of fancy* s writing. 
 Del. Not far off stands the Hypocrenian well 
 Whither I'll lead thee, and but drinking there, 
 To welcome thee, nine muses shall appear ; 
 And with full bowls of knowledge thee inspire. 
 Ray. Hang knowledge ! Drown your muse ! 
 Fol. Aye, aye, or they'll drown themselves in 
 sack and claret. 
 Hum. Do not regard their toys ; 
 
 Be but my darling : age to free thee 
 From her curse shall fall a-dying ; 
 Call me your * empress ; time to see thee 
 Shall for get his art of fiying. 
 Ray. Oh, my all excellence ! 
 Spring. Speak thou for me : I am fainting. 
 
 [To Health. 
 
 ' But.^ This word had formerly, besides its usoal meaning, 
 that of except. 
 
 ' Your.~\ The quarto reads, " call me their empress," which 
 does not afford any sense. 
 
 VOL. II. Z
 
 3j4 the sun S darling. act II. 
 
 Health. Leave her ! take this, and travel ! tell 
 the world, 
 ril bring thee into all the courts of kings, 
 Where thou shalt stay, and learn their languages ; 
 Kiss ladies, revel out the nights in dancing : 
 The day [in '] manly pastimes ; snatch from Time 
 His glass, and let the golden sands run forth 
 As thou shalt jogg* them ; riot it, go brave. 
 Spend half a world, my queen shall bear thee out : 
 Yet all this while, though thou climb hills of years, 
 Shall not one wrinkle sit upon thy brow. 
 Nor any sickness shake thee. Youth and Health, 
 As slaves, shall lackey by thy chariot wheels : 
 And who, for two such jewels, would not sell 
 Th* East and West Indies; both are thine, so that 
 
 Ray. What? 
 
 FoL All lies gallop o'er the world, and not grow 
 old, nor be sick. A lieM One gallant went but into 
 France last day, and was never his own man since; 
 another stept but into the Low Countries, and was 
 drunk dead under the table ; another did but peep 
 into England, and it cost him more in good-mor- 
 rows blown up to him under his window, by drums 
 and trumpets '*, than his whole voyage : besides he 
 run mad upon't. 
 
 * /.] In, which the metre renders necessary, is left out in 
 the original. 
 
 * Jogg^~\ i. c. shake. 
 
 ' LieT] The examples given by the fool are formed by quib- 
 bling on the word lie. 
 
 * ** It is the usual practice of the waits, or nocturnal minstrels 
 in the North of England, after playing a tunc or two, to cry, 
 ' Good morrow, maistcr such a one, good morrow, dame,' ad 
 ding the hour and state of the weather." Ritson's Note on 
 Othello^ Actlll. 8C. 1. Barclay translates a passage in Brandt's 
 Ship of Fools, relating to this custom of serenading, thus : 
 
 " Tlic furies fearful, sprong of the floudes of hell, 
 Berrth these vagabondes in their miodes, so
 
 SCENE I. THE SUN*S DARLING. 355 
 
 Hum. Here's my last farewell : ride along with 
 me ; 
 I'll raise by art out of base earth a palace ; 
 Whither thyself, waving a crystal wand ', 
 Shall call together the most glorious spirits 
 Of all the kings that have been in the world ; 
 And they shall come only to feast with thee. 
 
 Ray. Rare ! 
 
 Hum. At one end of this palace shall be heard 
 That music which gives motion to the heaven ; 
 And in the middle Orpheus shall sit and weep, 
 For sorrow that his lute had not the charms 
 To bring his fair Eurydice from hell : 
 Then, at another end, 
 
 Ray. I'll hear no more ; 
 
 Thus ends your strife : you only I adore. 
 
 [To Humour. 
 
 Spring. Oh, I am sick at heart: unthankful man ! 
 *Tis thou hast wounded me : farewell ! 
 
 [^She is led in by Delight. 
 
 Ray. Farewell. 
 
 Foi. Health, recover her ! Sirrah Youth, look to 
 her ! 
 
 That hy no mcane can they abide ne dwell 
 Wilhin their houses, but out they nede must go ; 
 More wildly wandrins then either hucke or doe, 
 Some with their harpcs, another with ther lute, 
 Another witli his bagpipe, or a foolishe Ante. 
 
 Then measure they their sontres of melody, 
 Before the doores of their lemman deare ; 
 Howlins with their foolishe songc and cry. 
 So tliat their lemman may tlieir great folly heare : 
 And till the Jordan make them stand areare. 
 Caste on their head, or till the stones flee. 
 They not depart, but coiicyt there still to be." 
 
 ' Waving a crystal zcand.] The old copy reads here, ** war- 
 ing a cristal stream^''^ which is absolute nonsense. The wand of 
 magicians, by which palaces are reared in an instant, are well 
 known to the readers of romance.
 
 3^6 THE SUN*S DARLING. ACT II. 
 
 Health. That bird, that in her nest sleeps out the 
 spring, 
 May fly in summer hut with sickly wing. 
 
 \^Exeunt Health and Youth. 
 
 Hay. I owe thee tor this pill, doctor. 
 
 Hum. The Spring will die sure. 
 
 Ray,^'* '1^ Let her! 
 
 Hum. If she does. 
 
 Folly here is a kind of a foolish poet, 
 And he shall write her epitaph. 
 
 Ray. Against the morning 
 
 See it then writ, and I'll reward thee for it. 
 
 Fol. It shall not need. 
 
 Ray. 'Tis like it shall not need ; 
 
 This is your Folly. 
 
 Hum. He shall be ever yours. 
 
 Fol. I hope ever to be mine own folly. He's, 
 one of our fellows. 
 
 Hum. In triumph now I lead thee : no, be thou 
 Caesar, 
 And lead me. 
 
 Ray. Neither ; we'll ride with equal state 
 
 Both in one chariot, since we have equal fate. 
 
 Hum. Each do his office to this man, your lord : 
 For though Delight, and Youth, and Health should 
 
 leave him. 
 This ivory-gated palace shall receive him. 
 
 [Exeunt.
 
 SCENE I. THE SUN's DARLING. ' Q&7 
 
 ACT II r. 
 
 SCENE I. On the confines of Spring and Summer. 
 
 Enter Raybright melancholy/. 
 
 Ray. Oh, my dear love. the Spring, I am cheated 
 
 of thee ! 
 Thou had*st a body, the four elements 
 Dwelt never in a fairer ; a mind, princely ; 
 Thy language, like thy singers, musical. 
 How cool wert thou in auger ; in thy diet, 
 How temperate and yet sumptuous ! Thou would'st 
 
 not waste 
 The weight of a sad violet in excess : 
 Yet still thy board had dishes numberless. 
 Dumb beasts even loved thee ; once a young lark 
 Sat on thy hand, and gazing on thine eyes, 
 Mounted and sung, thinking them moving skies. 
 
 Enter Folly. 
 
 Fol. I ha* done, my lord : my muse has pump*d 
 hard for an epitaph upon the late departed Spring, 
 and here her lines spring up. 
 
 Ray. Read. 
 
 Fol. Read ? so I will ; please you to reach me 
 your high ears. [Reads. 
 
 Here lies the blithe Spring, 
 
 Whojirst taught birds to sing ; 
 Yet in April herself fell a crying : 
 
 Then May growing hot, 
 
 A sweating sickness she got. 
 And the first of June lay a dying.
 
 358 THE sun's darling. act 111. 
 
 Yet no month can say. 
 
 But her merry daughter May 
 Stuck her coffin withjiowers great plenty : 
 
 The cuckow sung in verse 
 
 An epitaph o'er her hearse i, 
 But assure you the lines were not dainty. 
 
 Ray. No more are thine, thou idiot : hast thou 
 none 
 To poison with thy nasty jigs ' but mine, 
 My matchless frame of nature, creation's wonder ? 
 Out of my sight ! 
 
 Fol. 1 am not in't; if I were, you*d see but scur- 
 vily. You find fault as patrons do with books, to 
 give nothing. 
 
 Ray. Yes, bald* one, beastly base one ; block, 
 away ! 
 Vex me not Ibol ; turn out a* doors your roarer, 
 French tailor, and that Spanish gingerbread. 
 And your Italian skipper ; then, sir, yourself! 
 
 Fol. Myself? Carbonado me, bastinado me, 
 strappado ^ me, hang me, 1*11 not stir : poor Folly, 
 honest Folly, jocundary Folly forsake your lord- 
 ship ! No true gentleman hates me ; and how 
 many women are daily given to me, if I would 
 
 * JigH''] The original reads iggs. Aj'/'g, in the times of our 
 author, a^ has been mentioned before, signided not only a dance, 
 but frequently a ballad, generally of the ludicrous kind. 
 
 * Bald.^ Alluding to the shared crown of (he fool. Ol<I 
 copy, bail'd. 
 
 ^ Block,^ The old copy has blockish. 
 
 * Strappado.'] The punishment of the strappado is mentioned 
 in seTcral old writers. Thus, in Fletcher's Custom of the Coun. 
 try: 
 
 " A fl.^liM ruffian, 
 
 Tiiat halli so often taken the sirttppw.tn, 
 'I'hat '\ lo l4iin but as a lot^y trivk 
 Is lo a tmiibler."
 
 SCENE I. THE SUn's DARLING. 359 
 
 take 'em, some not far off know. Tailor gone, 
 Spanish fig gone, all gone, but 1 
 
 Enter Humour. 
 
 Hum. My waiters coited' off by you, you flea 
 them ! 
 Whence come these thunderbolts ? What furies 
 haunt you ? 
 
 Ray. You. 
 
 FoL She ! 
 
 Ray. Yes, and thou. 
 
 Fol. Baw-waw. 
 
 Ray. I shall grow old, diseased, and melancholy; 
 For you have robb'd me both of Youth and Health, 
 And that Delight my Spring bestowM upon me : 
 But for you two, I should be wond*rous good ; 
 By you I have been cozen'd, baffled, and torn 
 From the embracements of the noblest creature. 
 
 Hum. Your Spring ? 
 
 Ray. Yes, she, even she, only the Spring. 
 One morning, spent with her, was worth ten nights 
 With ten of the prime beauties of the world : 
 She was unhappy ne'er, but in two sons, 
 March, a rude roaring fool, 
 
 Fol. And April, a whining puppy. 
 
 Hum. But May was a fine piece. 
 
 Ray. Mirror of faces. 
 
 Fol. Indeed May was a sweet creature, and yet 
 a great raiser of maypoles. 
 
 Hum, When will you sing my praises thus ? 
 
 Ray. Thy praises ? 
 
 Thou art a common creature. 
 
 ' Coited off."] Coit was anciently one of the methods of spel. 
 ling quoitf Mrhich signified to throw. Thus, in Webster's Duchess 
 of ^lalfy : 
 
 < One o'lh' woodyard that can quoit the sledge."
 
 360 THE sun's DARLING. ACT HI, 
 
 Hum. Common ! 
 
 liaif' Yes, common : 
 
 I cannot pass through any prince's court, 
 Through any country, camp, town, city, village, 
 But up your name is cried, nay curs'd : " A ven- 
 geance 
 On this your debauch'd Humour' !" 
 
 Fol. A vintner spoke those very words, last 
 night, to a company of roaring boys, that would 
 not pay their reckoning. 
 
 Ray. How many bastards hast thou ! 
 
 Hum. None. 
 
 Ray. 'Tis a he. 
 
 Fol. Squire ! Worshipful master Folly. 
 
 Ray. The courtier has his humour, has he not. 
 Folly ? 
 
 Fol. Yes, marry, has he folly ; the courtier's hu- 
 piour is to be brave, and not pay for't ; to be proud, 
 and no man cares for't. 
 
 Ray. Brave ladies have their humours. 
 
 Fol. Who has to do with that, but brave lords? 
 
 Ray. Your citizens have brave humours. 
 
 Fol. Oh ! but their wives have tickling humours. 
 
 Hum. Yet done ? 
 
 ' Humour.'] To jn^ge from the comedies of the age, parti- 
 cularly those of Ben Jonson, the affectation of extravagant hu- 
 mours must hare been carried to a great height. We should be 
 CJireful not to accuse that author of painting the portraits of his 
 comical characters with attributes which we might think the pro- 
 duct of bis unrestrained fancy, but which probably did not ex. 
 ccetl thuise really affected by these humourists. The travelling 
 humour of Puntarvolo, the profane humour of Carlo Buffone, 
 and the alleciations of the two city. coxcombs, Clove and Orange, 
 had probably, as well as the yellow stockings of Mai v olio, their 
 prototypes in tho?c days. Of a nature nrarly allied to these hu- 
 mours, were the affected vapours, of which Hen Jonson gives us 
 an admirable s|:ecimen in the Came of J apours, which he intro- 
 duces into his comedy of iiartliolomcw .fair, Act IV. sc. 4.
 
 SCENE I. THE SUn's DARLING. 36l 
 
 Fol. Humour, madam ! if all are your bastards 
 that are given to humour you, you have a com- 
 pany of as arrant rascals to your children as ever 
 went to th' gallows : a colHer being drunk jostled 
 a knight into the kennel, and cried, 'Twas his hu- 
 mour ; the knight broke his coxcomb ', and that 
 was his humour. 
 
 Rai/. And yet you are not common \ 
 
 Hum. No matter what I am : 
 
 Rail, curse, be frantic ! get you to the tomb 
 Of your rare mistress; dig up your dead Spring, 
 And lie with her, kiss her: me have you lost. 
 
 Fol. And I scorn to be found. 
 
 Ray. Stay : must I lose all comfort ? Dearest, 
 stay ; 
 There's such a deal of magic in those eyes, 
 I'm charm'd to kiss these only. 
 
 Fol. Are you so? kiss on: I'll be kissed some- 
 where, I warrant. 
 
 Ray. I will not leave my Folly for a world. 
 
 Fol. Nor 1 you for ten. 
 
 Ray. Nor thee, my love, for worlds pil'd upon 
 worlds. 
 
 Hum. If ever for the Spring you do but sigh, 
 1 take my bells. 
 
 Fol. And 1 my hobby-horse. Will you be mer- 
 ry then, and jawsand *. 
 
 Ray. As merry as the cuckows of the spring. 
 
 * Coxcomb ."l Coxcombs originally dcnotecl, *' cappcs with 
 cockes feathers, or a hat with a neck and heade of a cocke on 
 the top, and a bell thereon." (Minsheu's Diet. 1627.) Sub- 
 sequently it was used not unfrcqucntly, as in the present instance, 
 for the head. 
 
 * Jaxcsand.~\ The quarto reads, no doubt corruptedly, jmr- 
 fand. Jaicsand is certainly the proper reading, and may be de- 
 duced from the vcnch joyeusement, joyfully, merrily, or froiQ 
 jouissanty enjoying.
 
 362 THE sun's DAULI.NG. ACT III. 
 
 Fol. Again ! 
 
 Ray. How, lady, lies the way? 
 
 Hum, I'll be your convoy, 
 
 And bring you to the court of the Sun's queen, 
 Summer, a glorious and majestic creature. 
 Her face outshining the poor Spring's as far 
 As a sunbeam does a lamp, the moon a star. 
 
 Rill/. Such are the spheres I'd move in. Attend 
 us, Folly. \^Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE H. Near the Summer'* Court. 
 
 Enter Raybkicht and Humour. 
 
 Rai/. I muse, my nimble Folly stays so long. 
 
 Hum. He's quick enough of toot, and counts, 1 
 swear, 
 That minute cast away, not spent on you. 
 
 Ray. His company is music next to your's ; 
 Both of you are a consort' ; and 1, your tunes 
 Lull me asleep, and, when I most am sad. 
 My sorrows vanish from me in soft dreams. 
 But how far must we travel ! Is it our motion 
 Puts us into* this lieat, or is the air 
 In love with us, it clings with such embraces, 
 It keeps us in this warmth I 
 
 Hum. This shews her court 
 
 Is not far off you covet so to see : 
 Her subjects seldom kindle needless fires, 
 The Sun lends them his flames. 
 
 ' Consort is the ancient mode of spelling concert. It occurs in 
 both senses in the Jovial Crew, by Bromc. In the edition of that 
 play in Dodsley's Old Plays by Keed, the .s))ciling is improper- 
 Jy altered, and thus the quibble on consort und concert obscured. 
 See Vol. X. p. 342. 
 
 ' Into,2 The old copy reads aomctrically in.
 
 SCENE II. THE SUN*S DARLING. 363 
 
 Ray. Has she rare buildings ? 
 
 Hum. Magnificent and curious ; every noon 
 The horses of the day bait there ; whilst he, 
 Who in a golden chariot makes them gallop 
 Jn twelve hours o'er the world, alights a while, 
 To give a love-kiss to the Summer-queen. 
 
 Ray. And shall we have fine sights there ? 
 
 Hum. Oh! 
 
 Rai/. And hear 
 
 More ravishing music ? 
 
 Hum. All the choristers 
 
 That learned to sing i'th' temple of the Spring ; 
 But here attain such cunning, that when the winds 
 Roar and are mad, and clouds in antick gambols 
 Dance o'er our heads, their voices have such charms, 
 They'll all stand still to listen. 
 
 Rat/. Excellent. 
 
 Enter Folly. 
 
 Fol. I sweat like a pamper'd jade of Asia ', and 
 drop like a cobnut of Africa. 
 
 Enter a Forester. 
 
 Fores. Back ! whither go you ? 
 
 Fol. Oves * ! this wav. 
 
 ./ ./ 
 
 * Asia.'] This is one of the numerous allusions to the follow- 
 ing ranting passage in the Tamerlane of Mariow, a play which, 
 for a long time, continued one of the principal butts at which 
 the ridicule of dramatic authors was levelled : 
 
 " Holla, ye pamper'd jades of Asia, 
 What can ye draw but twenty miles a-day. 
 And have so proud a chariot at your liccis, 
 Aud such a coachman as great 'ramburlainc?" 
 
 * Oyes /] This corruption of the French imperative oyer, is 
 still used in law courts. This speech in the old copy is made 
 part of the Forester's lirst; but as the following is also given to 
 him, this must necessarily belong to another, and it suits best 
 for Folly.
 
 364 THE sun's darling. act 111. 
 
 Fores. None must pass : 
 Here's kept no open court ; our queen this day 
 Rides forth a-hunting, and the air being hot, 
 She will not have rude throngs to stifle her. 
 Back ! [^Exeuni. 
 
 Enter Summer mid Delight. 
 
 Sum. And did break her heart then ? 
 
 Del. Y'es, with disdain. 
 
 Sum. The heart oi" my dear mother nurse, the 
 Spring ? 
 I'll break his heart f'or't : had she not a face, 
 Too tempting for a Jove ? 
 
 Del. The graces sat 
 
 On her fair eyelids ever ; but his youth. 
 Lusting for change, so doted on a lady, 
 Fantastic and ^et fair, a piece of wonder, 
 (They call her Humour, and her parasite Folly) 
 He cast the sweet Spring off, and turn'd us from 
 
 him ; 
 Yet his celestial kinsman, (for young Ray^right 
 Is the Sun's darling) knowing his journeying hither 
 To see thy glorious court, sends me before 
 To attend upon ' you, and spend all my hours 
 lu care of him. [Recorders. 
 
 The Sun appears. 
 
 Sum. Obey your charge ! Oh, thou builder 
 
 [Kiieels. 
 Of me, thy handmaid ! landlord of my life ! 
 Life of my love ! throne where my glories sit I 
 I ride in triumph on a silver cloud 
 Now 1 but see thee. 
 
 Sun Rise ! Is Raybright come yet ? 
 
 ' Upon.'] The quarto reads, on. To help the metre tlie first 
 syllabic ha-i been introduced.
 
 SCENE II. THE SUn's DARLING. 364 
 
 Del. Not yet. 
 
 Enter Plenty. 
 
 Sun. Be you indulgent over him, 
 
 And lavish thou thy treasure. 
 
 Plen. Our princely cousin, 
 
 Raybright, your darling, and the world's delight 
 Is come. 
 
 Sun. Who with him ' ] 
 
 Plen. A goddess in a woman, 
 
 Attended by a prating saucy fellow, 
 Call'd Folly. 
 
 Sun. They'll confound him ; but he shall run*. 
 Go and receive him. \^E.cit Plenty, 
 
 Sum. Your sparkling eves and his arrival draws 
 Heaps of admirers : earth itself will sweat 
 To bear our weights. Vouchsafe, bright power, to 
 
 borrow 
 Winds not too rough from yEolus, to fan 
 Our glowing faces. 
 
 Sun. I will. Ho, iEolus ! 
 
 Unlock the jail, and lend a wind or two 
 To fan my girl the Summer. 
 
 Enter ^glus. 
 
 ^ol. I will. 
 
 Sun. No roarers. 
 
 JEol. No. 
 Sun. Quickly. 
 
 JEol. Fly you slaves ! Summer sweats ; cool her. 
 \_Hoboys. The Sun takes its seat ahove^, 
 
 ' HtmJi Old copy, them. 
 
 * Run.] I suspect the omission of some such words, he 
 shall run the course him pleases best. But as he shall run may 
 refer to Plenty, the text has not been disturbed. 
 
 ' This stage-direction evidently indicates that the sun was real.
 
 366 tHE sun's darling. act III. 
 
 Enter Raybright, Humour, Plentv, Folly, 
 Country -fellows, and Wenches. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 Haymakers, rakers, reapers, and mowers, 
 
 JVait on your Summer-queen ; 
 Dress tin with musk-rose her eglantine boicers. 
 Daffodils strew the greeii ; 
 Sing, dance, and play ; 
 ^Tis holiday. 
 The Smi does bravely shine 
 On our ears of corn. 
 Rich as a pearl 
 Comes every girl. 
 This is mine, this is mine, this is mine ; 
 Let us die, ere away they be borne. 
 
 Bow to the Sun, to our queen, and that fair one 
 
 Come to behold our spor/s. 
 Each bonny lass here is counted a rare one ; 
 As those in princes courts. 
 These and we 
 With country glee. 
 Will teach the woods to resound, 
 And the hills with echoes holla : 
 Skipping lambs 
 Their bleating dams, 
 *Mongst kids shall trip it round. 
 For joy thus our wenches we follow. 
 
 Wind^ Jolly huntsmen, your neat bugles shrilly. 
 
 Hounds make a lusty cry , 
 Spring up, you falconers, the partridges freely, 
 
 Then let your brave hawks Jfy. 
 
 ]j personated by one of the masquers, and not merely represent- 
 ^ in the sky.
 
 SCENE II. THE sun's DARLING. '367 
 
 Horses amain. 
 Over ridgCy over plain. 
 The do2's have the statr in chanc : 
 lis a spore to content a king. 
 So ho ho ! through the skies 
 How the proud bird flies , 
 And sousing ' kills with a grace ; 
 Now the deer falls ; hark ! how they ring *. 
 
 [The Sun by degrees is clouded. 
 
 Sum. Leave off: the Sun is angry, and has drawn 
 A cloud before his face. 
 
 Health. He is vex'd to see 
 
 That proud star shine [so] near you, at whose rising 
 The Spring fell sick and died. Think Avhat I told 
 
 you, 
 His coyness will kill you else. [To Summer. 
 
 Sum. It cannot. Fair prince, 
 
 Thou2:h vour illustrious name has touch'd mine ear. 
 Till now I never saw you ; nor never saw 
 A man, whom I more love, more hate. 
 
 Bay. Ha, lady ! 
 
 Sum. For him I love you, from whose git tering 
 rays 
 
 * Sousing.'] A hawk is said to souse when he drops down on 
 his prey. 
 
 ' This song, which has a considerable share of merit, is ex- 
 tracted, as well as others of our author's, amongst those which 
 Mr Beloe has collected out of old plays, in the second volume 
 of his Anecdotes of Literature. I take this opportunity to enter 
 a protest against a singular practice of Mr Gifford in his valuable 
 tuition of Massinger. With a very few exceptions, all the songs 
 which occur in the works of that author are omitted in their 
 places, and placed at the end of the play. The probability of 
 their not being the production of the author, surely does not 
 warrant their omission as long as such probability docs not 
 amount to a proof. Whatever degree of demerit they may have, 
 they must stand or fall with the rest of the dram.i.
 
 i6S THE sun's darling. ACT HI. 
 
 You boast your great name : for that name I hate 
 
 you, 
 Because you kiUM my mother, and my nurse. 
 
 Plen. KiU'd he my grandmother ! Plenty will 
 never 
 Hold you by th' hand again. 
 
 Sum. You have free leave 
 
 To thrust your arm into our treasury. 
 As deep as I myself: Plenty shall wait 
 Still at your elbow ; all my sports are yours, 
 Attendants yours, my state and glory's yours : 
 But these shall be as sunbeams from a glass 
 Reflected on you, not to give you heat. 
 To doat on a smooth face, my spirit's too great. 
 
 [^Exit. '.Flourish . 
 
 Ray. Divinest ! 
 
 Hum. Let her go. 
 
 Fol. And 1*11 go after, for 1 must and will have 
 a fling at one of her plumb-trees. 
 
 Ray. 1 ne'er was scorn'd till now. 
 
 Hum. This is that Altezza^ 
 
 That Rhodian wonder gaz'd at by the Sun ? 
 I fear'd thine eyes should have beheld a face, 
 The moon has not a clearer : this ! a dowdy. 
 
 Fol. An ouzle ; this a queen-apple or a crab she 
 gave you \ 
 
 Hum. She bids you share her treasure ; but who 
 keeps it ? 
 
 Fol. She points to trees, great-with-child with 
 fruit, but when delivered, grapes hang in ropes ; 
 but no drawing, not a drop of wine : whole cars of 
 corn lay their ears together for bread, but the devil 
 a bit I can touch. 
 
 Hum. Be rul'd by me once more ; leave her ! 
 
 Ray. In scorn, 
 
 As she does me. 
 
 Fol. Scorn ! If I be not deceived I ha* scon
 
 SCENE III. THE SUn's DARLING. 369 
 
 Summer go up and down with hot codlings' ; and 
 that little baggage, her daughter Plenty, crying six 
 bunches of raddish for a penny. 
 
 Hum. Thou shalt have nobler welcome ; for V\\ 
 bring thee 
 Toabrave and bounteous housekeeper, free Autumn. 
 
 Fol. Oh ! there's a lad l^et's go then. 
 
 Enter Plenty. 
 
 Plen. Where is this prince ? My mother, for the 
 Indies, 
 Must not have you part *. 
 Ray. Must not ? 
 
 Enter Summer. 
 
 Sum. No, must not. 
 
 I did but chide thee, like a whistling wind, 
 Playing with leafy dancers : when I told thee 
 I hated thee, I lied ; I dote upon thee. 
 Unlock my garden of th' Hesperides, 
 By dragons kept, the apples being pure gold : 
 Take all that fruit ; 'tis thine. 
 
 Plen. Love but my mother, 
 
 I'll give thee corn enough to feed the world. 
 
 Rai/. I need not golden apples, nor your corn ; 
 What land soe'er the world's surveyor, the Sun, 
 Can measure in a day, I dare call mine : 
 
 ^ Hot codlings.~\ Mr Steevens observes, in a note of Twelfth 
 Night, Act I. sc. 5, that a codling anciently meant an immature 
 apple, and the present jiassage plainly supports his assertion, as 
 none but immature apples could have been had in summer. Their 
 popularity may have been owing to a fancy similar to that which 
 produced the frequent use of stewed prunes. See Shakespeare, 
 Reed's edit. Vol. IX. p. 361. 
 
 * Part.~\ Did the regularity of the metre in every case au- 
 thorise a departure from the text, we might read, " Must not 
 have you depart. ^^ 
 
 VOL. II. A a
 
 370 THE SUN*S DARLING. ACT HI. 
 
 All kingdoms I have right to ; I am free 
 
 Of every country ; in the four elements 
 
 I have as deep a share as an emperor ; 
 
 All beasts, whom the earth bears, are to serve me, 
 
 All birds to sing to me ; and can you catch me 
 
 With a tempting golden apple ? 
 
 Plen. She's too good for thee. 
 
 When she was born, the Sun for joy did rise 
 Before his time, only to kiss those ej-es. 
 Which having touched, he stole from them such 
 
 store 
 Of light, he' shone more bright than e'er before: 
 At which he vow*d, whenever she did die, 
 He'd snatch them up, and in his sister's sphere 
 Place them, since she had no two stars so clear. 
 
 Ray. Let him now snatch them up ; away ! 
 
 Hum. Away, 
 
 And leave this gipsy. 
 
 Sum. Oh, I am lost. 
 
 /?ay. Love scorn 'd 
 
 Of no triumph more then love can boast *. 
 
 [^Exit with Humour and Folly. 
 
 Plen. This strumpet' will confound him. 
 
 (Smw. She has me deluded. 
 
 Recorders play. The Sun appears, with Cupid 
 and Fortune. 
 
 Sun. Is Ilaybright gone ! 
 
 ' //e,3 Old copy reads she. As the Sun is here said io obtaiu 
 light from the eyes of Summer, this trifling alteration is abso- 
 lutely essential to the sense. 
 
 Boast.'\ Though the sense docs not require any addition to 
 this line, the rugged metre seems to suggest some alteration, such 
 as : "Of no one triumph," &c. The construction of the pas- 
 sage is as follows : " If lore be scorned, love can then no more 
 boast of any triumphs." 
 
 3 Strumpet^'] Old copy, strump. 
 9
 
 SCENE III. THE SUN*S DARLING. 371 
 
 Sum. Yes, and his spiteful eyes 
 
 Have shot darts through me. 
 
 Sun. I thy wounds will cure, 
 
 And lengthen out thy days ; his followers gone, 
 Cupid and Fortune, take you charge of him. 
 Here thou, my brightest queen, must end thy reign : 
 Some nine months hence I'll shine on thee again. 
 
 [^Exeunt. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SCENE I. The Court of Autumn. 
 
 Enter Pomona, Raybright, Cupid, and For- 
 tune. 
 
 Ray. Yourentertainments', Autumn's bounteous 
 queen. 
 Have feasted me with rarities as delicate, 
 x\s the full growth of an abundant year 
 Can ripen to my palate. 
 
 Pom. They are but courtings 
 
 Of gratitude to our dread lord, the Sun, 
 From whom thou draw*st thy name : the feasts* of 
 
 fruits 
 Our gardens yield, are much too coarse for thee ; 
 Could we contract the choice of nature's plenty 
 Into one form, and that form to contain 
 All delicates ^ which the wanton sense 
 
 ^ Entertainments^ Old copy, cutertainment. 
 
 * Feasts^'] Old copy, feast 
 
 * Delicates.~\ Were the metre of sufficient consequence to li- 
 cense the introduction of words not to be found in the original, 
 ve might read, " All delicate cates." The last syllable of the 
 former, from its similarity to the latter, was rery liable to be 
 overlooked by the compositor.
 
 37.2 THE SUX*S DARLING. ACT IV. 
 
 Would relish, or desire to invent, to please it. 
 The present were unworthy tar to purchase 
 A sacred league of friendship. 
 
 Ray. 1 have rioted 
 
 In surfeits of the ear, with various music 
 Of warbling birds ; 1 have smelt perfumes of roses, 
 And every flower, with which the fresh-trimm'd 
 
 earth 
 Is mantled in : the Spring could mock my senses 
 With these fine barren lullabies. The Summer 
 Invited my then ranging eyes to look on 
 Large fields of ripenM corn, presenting trifles 
 Of waterish petty dainties : but my taste 
 Is only here pleas'd ; th* other objects claim 
 The style of formal, these are real bounties. 
 
 Pom, We can transcend thy wishes. Whom the 
 creatures 
 Of every age and quality post, madding 
 From land to land and sea to sea, to meet. 
 Shall wait upon thy nod. Fortune and Cupid. 
 Love, yield thy quiver, and thine arrows up 
 To this great prince of Time ? Before him. Fortune, 
 Pour out thy mint of treasures ! crown him sove- 
 reign 
 Of what his thoughts can glory to command : 
 He shall give payment of a royal prize. 
 To Fortune judgment, and to Cupid's eyes'. 
 
 For. Be a merchant^ I will freight thee 
 
 With all store, that time is bought for. 
 Cupid. Be a lover, I will wait thee 
 
 With success in life most sought for. 
 
 For. Be enamour d on bright honour. 
 
 And thy greatness shall shine glorious. 
 
 ' Cupid's eyes.'] That is, he shall girc jadgment to Fortune, 
 and to Cupid his eyes.
 
 SCENE I. THE SUN S DARLING. 373 
 
 Cupid. Chastiti/f if thou smile on her, 
 
 Shall grow servile, thou victorious. 
 
 For. Be a warrior, conquest ever 
 
 Shall triumphant li/ renown thee. 
 Cupid. Be a courtier, beauty 7iever 
 
 Shall but with her duty crown thee. 
 
 For. Fortune's wheel is thine ; depose me, 
 
 I'm thy slave, thy pow'r has bound me. 
 Cupid. Cupid's shafts are thine, dispose me; 
 
 Love loves love ; thy graces wound me. 
 
 Both. Live, reign! pity is fame's jewel ; 
 We obey ; oh ! be not cruel. 
 
 Ray. You ravish me with infinites, and lay 
 A bounty of more sovereignty and amazement, 
 Than the Atlas of mortality can support. 
 
 Enter Humour and Folly unobserved. 
 
 Hum. What's here ? 
 
 Fol. Nay, pray observe. 
 
 Ray. Be my heart's empress, build your king- 
 dom there. 
 
 Hum. With what an earnestness he complies. 
 
 Fol. Upon my life he means to turn costermong- 
 er', and is projecting how to forestal the market; 
 I shall cry pippins rarely. 
 
 Ray. Till now my longings were ne'er satisfied, 
 And the desires [of] my sensual appetite, 
 Were only fed with barren expectations 
 To what I now am filled with, 
 
 ^ Costermonger.'] Mr Steevens observes, in answer to a su- 
 perficial remark, by Johnson, that " a costermonger is a costard- 
 monger, a dealer in apples called by that name, because they are 
 shaped like a costardy i. e. man's head." Henry, IV. Part II. 
 Act. I. Sc. 5.
 
 374 THE sun's darling. act IV. 
 
 Fol. Yes, we are filled and must be emptied ; 
 these wind-fruits have distended my guts into a 
 lenten pudding, there's no fat in them ; my belly 
 swells, but my sides fall away. A month of such 
 diet would make me a living anatomy '. 
 
 Pom. These are too little ; more are due to him, 
 That is the pattern of his father's glory : 
 Dwell but amongst us, Industry shall strive 
 To make another artificial nature. 
 And change all other seasons into ours. 
 
 Hum. Shall my heart break ? 1 can contain no 
 longer. [Comes forward. 
 
 Ray. How fares my loved Humour ? 
 
 Hum. A little stirr'd ; no matter. Til be merry : 
 Call for some music! Do not: I'll be melancholy. 
 
 Fol, A sullen humour, and common in a dicer 
 that has lost all his money. 
 
 Pom. Lady, I hope 'tis no neglect of courtesy 
 In us, that so disturbs you ; if it rise 
 From any discontent, reveal the cause ; 
 It shall be soon removed. 
 
 Hum. Oh, my heart ! 
 
 Help to unlace my gown. 
 
 Fol. And unlace your petticoat. 
 
 Hum. Saucy, liow now I 'Tis well you have 
 sorae sweetheart, 
 Some new fresh sweetheart ; I'm a goodly fool 
 To be thus play'd on, staled and foil'd. 
 
 Pom. Why, madaju ! 
 
 We can be courteous without stain of honour : 
 'Tis not the raging of a lustful blood 
 That we desire to tame with satisfaction ; 
 Nor have his masculine graces in our breast 
 
 * Anatomy.'] A skrleton is frequently termed an anatomy in 
 the old plays.
 
 SCENE I. THE SUN*S DARLINfi. 375 
 
 Kindled a wanton fire : our bounty gives him 
 A welcome free, but chaste and honourable. 
 
 Hum. Nay, 'tis all one ; I have a tender heart. 
 Come, come, let's drink ! 
 
 Fol. A humour in fashion with gallants, and 
 brought out of the Low Countries. 
 
 Hum. Fie ! there's no music in thee ; let us 
 sing. 
 
 Fol. Here's Humour in the right trim ; a ^e\\ 
 more such toys would have made the little world 
 of man run mad, z& the puritan that sold his con- 
 science for a maypole. 
 
 [AJlourish. Shouts within. 
 
 Ray. The meaning of this mirth ? 
 
 Pom. My lord is coming. 
 
 Ray. Let us attend to humble our best thanks 
 For these high favours. 
 
 Tenter Autumn and Bacchanalian. 
 
 Pom. My dearest lord, according to th' injunc- 
 tion 
 Of your command, I have, with all observance, 
 Given entertainment to this noble stranger. 
 
 Aui. The Sun-born Raybright ! Minion of my 
 love. 
 Let us be twins in heart ; thy grandsire's beams 
 Shine graciously upon our fruits and vines. 
 I am his vassal, servant, tributary ; 
 And, for his sake, the kingdoms I possess, 
 I will divide with thee : thou shalt command 
 The Lydian Tmolus, and Campanian mounts, 
 To nod their grape-crown' d heads into thy bowls, 
 Expressing' their rich juice : a hundred grains, 
 
 ' ^x^ressing^ For pressing out. The masque throughout 
 abounds with school-pedantry, and unluckily the speeches of 
 the '' bount0ous housekeeper, free Autumn," particularly
 
 376 THE SUN*S DARLING. ACT IV. 
 
 Both from the Beltick and Sicilian fields, 
 Shall be congested for thy sacrifice 
 In Ceres' fane; Tiber shall pay thee apples 
 And Sicyon olives ; all the choicest fruits 
 Thy father's heat doth ripen. 
 
 Ray. Make me but treasurer 
 
 Of your respected favours, and that honour 
 Shall equal my ambition. 
 
 Aut. My Pomona, 
 
 Speed to prepare a banquet of novelties. 
 This is a day of rest, and we, the whilst, 
 Will sport before our friends, and shorten time 
 With length of wonted revels. 
 
 Pom. I obey. 
 
 Will't please you, madam? A retirement 
 From these extremes in men, more tolerable, 
 W ill better fit our modesties. 
 
 Hum. I'll drink. 
 
 And be a Bacchanalian. No, 1 will not! 
 Enter ! I'll follow ! Stay! I'll go before. 
 
 Pom. K'en what Humour pleaseth. 
 
 \_Exeunt Hum. and Pom. A Flourish. 
 
 Aut. Raybright, a health to Phcebus ! 
 
 [^Drinks. 
 These are the Paeans, which we sing to him ; 
 And yet we wear no bays' ; our cups are only 
 Crown'd with Lyaeus* blood: to him a health ! 
 
 [^Drinks. 
 
 swarm with that species of ornament, which, from the patron, 
 age of James for pedantry of every kind, was thought peculiar, 
 ly tieccssury in masques played at his court. 
 
 ' And ijet we near no boyn.'] The old copy reads, " And ye 
 wear no bays ;" the context, as well as the metre, absolulely call 
 for a correction, and the omission of the following letters in 
 italics, *' yet we,'* is such as was very likely to occur at an in. 
 accurate press. It has been before observed, that this masque is 
 by far the most incorrectly printed of our author's works^ and
 
 SCENE I. THE SUN S DARLING. 377 
 
 Ray. I must pledge that too. 
 
 Aut. Now, one other health 
 
 To our grand patron, call'd Goodt'ellowship ; 
 Whose livery all our people hereabout 
 Are clad in'. [Drinks, 
 
 Ray. I am for that too. 
 
 Aut, *Tis well : 
 
 Let it go round ; and, as our custom is 
 Of recreations of this nature, join 
 Your voices, as you drink, in lively notes. 
 Sing los unto Bacchus. 
 
 Fol. Hey-hoes*? A god of winds: There's at 
 least four-and-twenty of them imprisoned in my 
 belly ; if I sigh not forth some of them, the rest will 
 break out at the back-door ; and how sweet the 
 music of their roaring will be, let an Irishman 
 judge. 
 
 Ray. lie is a songster too. 
 
 Fol, A very foolish one : my music's natural, 
 and came by inheritance ; my father was a French 
 nightingale, and my mother an English wagtail ; I 
 Was born a cuckoo in the spring, and lost my voice 
 in summer, with laying my eggs in a sparrow's nest: 
 but I'll venture for one. Fill my dish ; every one 
 take his own, and, when I hold up my finger, off 
 with it. 
 
 Aut. Begin. 
 
 Folly sings. 
 
 Cast away care ! He that loves sorrow 
 Lengthens not a day, nor can buy to-morrow : 
 
 hence arise corrections as numerous as perhaps in all his other 
 plays together. 
 
 ' Clad in.'\ Old copy, corruptly, callUl in. 
 
 * Hey.hoes?~\ Folly puns upon the similarity of souod be- 
 tween the inyocation to Bacchus, with hey-hoes or sighs.
 
 378 THE sun's darling. act IV. 
 
 Money is trash; and he that will spend it. 
 Let him drink merrily. Fortune icill send it. 
 
 Merrily, merrily, merrily. Oh, ho ! 
 
 Play it off stijiy : we WMy not part so. 
 
 Chor. Merrily y Sfc. [They drink. 
 
 Wine is a charm, it heats the blood too. 
 Cowards it will arm, if the wine be good too, 
 Quickens the wit, and makes the back able, 
 Scorns to submit to the watch or constable. 
 Merrily, ^'c. 
 
 Pots fly about, give us more liquor. 
 Brothers of a rout, our brains will flow quicker ; 
 Empty the cask; score up, we care not ; 
 Fill all the pots again, drink on and spare not. 
 Merrily, 6fc. 
 
 Now, have I more air than ten musicians; besides 
 there is a whirlwind in my brains, 1 could both ca- 
 per and turn round. 
 
 Aut. Oh, a dance by all means 1 
 Now cease your healths, and in an active motion 
 Bestir ye nimbly to beguile the hours. 
 
 Fol. I am for you in that too; 'twill jog down 
 the lees of these rouses ' into a freer passage; but 
 take heed of sure footing, 'tis a slippery season : 
 many men fall by rising, and many women are 
 raised by falling. [They dance. 
 
 Aut. How likes our friend this pastime? 
 
 Ray. Above utterance. 
 
 Oh, how have I in ignorance and dulness. 
 Run through the progress of so many minutes, 
 Accusing him, who was my life's first author, 
 Of slackness and neglect, whilst 1 have dreamt 
 
 * Rouse.'] A large dose of liquor. See the notes on Hamltt, 
 Act I. ; and particuLaxly Dr Jamie&oa's Dictiuaary, in f oc.
 
 SCENE I. THE SUN S DARLINdl. 379 
 
 The folly of my days in vain expence 
 Of useless taste and pleasure. Pray, my lord. 
 Let one health pass about, whilst I bethink me 
 What course 1 am to take, for being denizen 
 In your unlimited courtesies. 
 
 Aut. Devise a round ' ; 
 
 You have your liberty. 
 
 Ray. A health to Autumn's self! 
 
 And here let time hold still his restless glass, 
 That not another golden sand may fall 
 To measure how it passeth. [^^<^!/ drink. 
 
 Aut. Continue here with me, and by thy pre- 
 sence 
 Create me favourite to thy fair progenitor, 
 And be mine heir. 
 
 Hay. I want words to express 
 
 My thankfulness. 
 
 Aut. Whate*er the wanton Spring, 
 
 When she doth diaper the ground with beauties, 
 Toils for, comes home to Autumn ; Summer's 
 
 sweats, 
 Either in pasturing her furlongs, reaping 
 The crop of bread, ripening the fruits for food, 
 Autumn's garners house them. Autumn's jolli- 
 ties 
 Feed* on them : I alone, in every land, 
 Traffic my useful merchandize ; gold and jewels, 
 Lordly possessions, are for my commodities 
 Mortgag'd and lost : I sit chief moderator 
 Between the cheek-parch'd Summer, and th' ex- 
 tremes 
 Of Winter's tedious frost ; nay, in myself 
 I do contain another teeming Spring. 
 Surety of health, prosperity of life 
 
 * Devise a round."] That is, << derise a health to pass round." 
 ' Feed.'} Old copy, fetds.
 
 380 THE sun's darling. act IV. 
 
 Belongs to Autumn. If thou then canst hope 
 
 To inherit immortality in frailty, 
 
 Live here till time be spent, yet be not old. 
 
 Ray. Under the Sun, you are the year's great 
 emperor. 
 
 Aut. On novv, to new variety offcasts ; 
 Princely contents are fit for princely guests. 
 
 Raij. My lord, I'll follow. \Exit Autumn. 
 
 Sure, I am not well. 
 
 Fol. Surely I am half-drunk, or monstrously mis- 
 taken. You mean to stay here, belike? 
 
 Ray. Whither should 1 go else? 
 
 Foi. Nay, if you will kill yourself in your own 
 defence, I'll not be of your jury. 
 
 Enter Humour. 
 
 Hum. You have had precious pleasures, choice 
 of drunkenness ; 
 Will you be gone! 
 
 Ray. 1 feel a war within me, 
 
 And every doubt, that resolution kills. 
 Springs up a greater in the year's revolution: 
 There cannot be a season more delicious, 
 When Plenty, Summer's daughter, empties daily 
 Her cornucopia, fill'd with choicest viands ; 
 
 Fol. Plenty's horn is always full in the city. 
 
 Ray. When temperate heat offends not with ex- 
 tremes, 
 When day and night have their distinguishraent 
 With a more equal measure ; 
 
 Hum. Ha! in contemplation ? 
 
 Fol. Troubling himself with this windy-guts, 
 this belly-aching Autumn, this Apple-John-Kcnt, 
 and warden of Fruiterers' hall. 
 
 Ray. When the bright Sun, with kindly distant 
 beams 
 Gilds ripen'd fruit ;
 
 SCENE I. THE SUN's DARLING. 381 
 
 Hum. And what fine meditation 
 
 Transports you thus \ You study some encomium 
 Upon the beauty of the garden's queen ; 
 You'd make the paleness to supply the vacancy 
 Of Cynthia's dark defect. 
 
 Fol. Madam, let but a green-sickness-chamber- 
 maid be thoroughly steeled, if she get not a better 
 colour in one month, I'll be forfeited to Autumn 
 for ever, and fruit-eat my flesh into a consumption. 
 
 Hum. Come, Raybright; whatsoe'er suggestions 
 Have won on thy apt weakness, leave these empty 
 And hollow-sounding pleasures, that include 
 Only a windy substance of delight. 
 Which every motion alters into air ; 
 I'll stay no long-er here. 
 
 Ray. I must. 
 
 Hum. You shall not ; 
 
 These are adulterate mixtures of vain follies : 
 I'll bring thee into the court of Winter; there thy 
 
 food 
 Shall not be sickly fruits, but healthful broths. 
 Strong meat and dainty. 
 
 Fol. Pork, beef, mutton, very sweet mutton, veal, 
 venison, capon, fine fat capon, partridge, snipe', 
 plover, larks, teal, admirable teal, my lord. 
 
 Hum. Mistery* there, like to another nature, 
 Confects the substance of the choicest fruits 
 In a rich candy, with such imitation 
 Of form and colour, 'twill deceive the eye, 
 Until the taste be ravish'd. 
 
 Fol. Comfits and caraways, marchpanes and 
 marmalades, sugar-plums and pippin-pies, ginger- 
 bread and walnuts. 
 
 * Snipe. ^ Old copy, snite. 
 
 * Mistery.'\ This word, in the ancient writings, frcfiuently 
 signified craft, or art.
 
 382 THE sun's darling. act IV. 
 
 Hum. Nor is his bounty limited : he*ll not spare 
 To exhaust the treasure of a thousand Indies. 
 
 FoL Two hundred pound suppers, and neither 
 fiddlers nor broken glasses reckoned ; besides, a 
 hundred pound a throw, ten times together, if you 
 can hold out so long. 
 
 Ray. You tell me wonders. 
 Be my conductress : I'll fly this place in secret. 
 Three quarters of my time are almost spent. 
 The last remains to crown my full content. 
 Now, if I fail, let man's experience read me' : 
 *Twas Humour, join'd with Folly, did mislead me. 
 
 Hum. Leave this naked season, 
 Wherein the very trees shake off their locks. 
 It is so poor and barren. 
 
 Fol. And when the hair falls off, I have heard a 
 poet say, 'tis no good sign of a sound body. 
 
 Ray. Come, let's go taste old Winter's fresh de- 
 lights, 
 And swell with pleasures our big appetites. 
 The Summer, Autumn, [Winter*] and the Spring. 
 As 'twere conjoin'd in one conjugal ring. 
 An emblem of four provinces, we sway. 
 Shall all attend our pastimes night and day ; 
 Shall both be subject to our glorious state, 
 While we enjoy the blessings of our fate ; 
 And since we have notice that some barbarous spirits 
 
 ' Read me.'\ The context does not allow of the ancient sig- 
 uification of the verb, to rede, t. e. to counsel, or advice. The 
 present Terb, to read^ seems rather to be used metaphorically, 
 and to imply the same as the common phrase of reading the fea- 
 tures of a person, or the face being an index of the mind. 
 
 * }Vintcr.'\ The ancient copy omits this season, but both the 
 metre and the sense require the insertion. The propriety of the 
 alteration is rendered obvious, hy the lino almost immediately 
 following : 
 
 An emblem of four provinces we sway."
 
 SCENE I. THE SUn's DARLING. 383 
 
 Mean to oppose our entrance, if by words 
 They'll not desist, we'll force our way by swords. 
 
 [^Exeunt. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 SCENE hThe Winter'.? Court. 
 
 Enter three Clowns. 
 
 Clown 1. Hear you the news, neighbour? 
 
 Clown 9. Yes, to my grief, neighbour : they say 
 our prince Raybright is coming hither, with whole 
 troops and trains of courtiers : we're like to have a 
 line time on*t, neighbours. 
 
 Clown 3. Our wives and daughters are ; for they 
 are sure to get by the bargain : though our barn be 
 emptied, they will be sure to be with barn* for*t. 
 Oh, these courtiers, neighbours, are pestilent knaves ; 
 but ere I'll suffer it, I'll pluck a crow* with some 
 of *em. 
 
 Clown \. 'Faith, neighbour, let's lay our heads 
 together, and resolve to die like men, rather than 
 live like beasts. 
 
 Clown'2. Aye, like horn-beasts, neighbour; they 
 may talk, and call us rebels, but a fig for that, 'tis 
 
 ' Though our barn be emptied, they will be sure to be with 
 barn /or7.] The present quibble hardly requires or deserves an 
 explanation. The word barn, or bairn, is still used in the North 
 of England, and in Scotland, for a child. 
 
 * Pluck a croa?.] The same proverbial expression occurs in 
 Shakespeare's Comedy of Errors : 
 
 " A crow without a feather ; master, mean you so ? 
 For a fish without a fin, there's a fowl without a featlier : 
 If a crow help us in, sirrah, we'll pluck a crow together."
 
 3Si THE SUN S DARLING. ACT V. 
 
 not a fart matter: let's be true amongst ourselves, 
 and with our swords in hand resist his entrance. 
 
 Enter Winter. 
 
 Wi7i. What sullen murmurings ' does your gall 
 
 bring forth I 
 Will you prov't true, no good comes from the 
 
 north M 
 Bold, saucy mortals, dare you then aspire 
 With snow and ice to quench the sphere of fire? 
 Are your hearts frozen like your clime? From 
 
 thence 
 All temperate heat's fled of obedience : 
 How durst you else with force think to withstand 
 Your prince's entry into this his land ? 
 A prince, who is so excellently good, 
 His virtue is his honour, more than blood ; 
 In whose clear nature, as two suns, do rise 
 The attributes of merciful and wise: 
 Whose laws are so impartial, they must 
 Be counted heavenly, 'cause they're truly just: 
 Who docs, with princely moderation, give 
 His subjects an example how to live ; 
 Teaching their errinjj natures to direct 
 Their wills, to what it ought most to affect : 
 That, as the sun, does unto all dispense 
 Heat, light, nay life, from his full influence : 
 
 ' What sullen mtn-murifigfi.'] The old copy reads, " What 
 such murmurings," Mhich, not being consistent with metre and 
 reason, the proposed alteration is rendered necessary, and is not 
 Tery far from the trace of the letters. 
 
 * No f^ood comes from the North.'] The northern parts of 
 England seem not to have been in great repute in the ancient 
 times. In Shakespeare's Lore's fjjvbour's Lost, Costard, the 
 clown, says : " I M'ill not light with a pole, like a Northern 
 many
 
 SCN I. THE SUn's DARLING. 3SS 
 
 Yet you, wild fools, possess'd with giant rage, 
 
 Dare, in your lawless fury, think to wage 
 
 War against Heaven ; and from his shining throne 
 
 Pull Jove himself, for you to tread upon ; 
 
 Were your heads circled with his own green oak, 
 
 Yet are they subject to his thunder stroke, 
 
 And he can sink such wretches as rebel. 
 
 From Heaven's sublime height, into the depth of 
 
 heir. 
 Clown 1. The devil a' can as soon ; we fear no 
 colours ; let him do his worst: there's many a tall 
 fellow, besides us, will rather die than see his living 
 taken from them, nay, even eat up; all things are 
 grown so dear, there's no enduring more mouths 
 than our own, neighbour. 
 
 Clown^, Thou'rt a wise fellow, neighbour; prate 
 is but prate. They say this prince too would bring 
 new laws upon us, new rites into the temples of 
 our gods; and that's abominable ; we'll all be hang- 
 ed first. 
 
 Win. A most fair pretence 
 To found rebellion upon conscience. 
 Dull, stubborn fools! whose perverse judgments 
 
 still 
 Are govern'd by the malice of your will, 
 Not by indifferent reason, which to you 
 Comes, as in droughts the elemental dew 
 Does on the parched earth : it wets, but does not 
 
 give 
 Moisture enough to make the plants to live. 
 Things void of soul ! Can you conceive, that he, 
 
 ' This speech is evidently one of those more adapted to please 
 the court than to contribute to the conduct of the fable. The 
 compliments are not much suited to the volatile prince Ray- 
 bright; but the masque who pronounced them knew, probably, 
 well how to address them to the royal personage whom they were 
 intended for. 
 
 VOL. II Jl b
 
 386 THE sun's DARLING!. ACT V. 
 
 Whose every thought's an act of piety, 
 
 Who's all religious, turiush'd with all good 
 
 That ever was comprised in flesh and blood, 
 
 Cannot direct you in the fittest way 
 
 To serve those powers, to which himself does pay 
 
 True zealous worship, nay's so near allied 
 
 To them, himselt must needs be deified' I 
 
 Enter Folly. 
 
 Fol. Save you gentlemen ! 'Tis very cold ; yon 
 live in frost; you've Wmter still about you. 
 
 Clown 2. What are you, sir? 
 
 Fol. A courtier, sir ; but, you may guess, a very 
 foolish one, to leave the bright beams of my lord, 
 the prince, to travel hither. I have an ague on 
 me ; do you not see me shake I Well, if our cour- 
 tiers, when they come hither, have not warm young 
 wenches, good wines, and fires, to heat their bloods, 
 ^twill freeze [them] into an apoplexy. Farewell, 
 frost! I'll go seek a fire to thaw me; I'm ail ice, 
 I fear, already. [Exit. 
 
 Clown 1. Farewell, and be hanged! Ere such 
 as these shall eat what we have sweat for, we'll 
 spend our bloods. Come, neighbours, let's go call 
 our company together, and go meet this prince he 
 talks so of. 
 
 Clown 3. Some shall have but a sour welcome of 
 it, if my crab tree-cudgel hold here. 
 
 Win. 'Tis, I see. 
 Not in my power to alter destiny. 
 You're mad in your rebellious minds : but hear 
 
 * We have^ in this speech, the opinion of our loyal authors 
 respecting the disaffected on account of religion, who already be> 
 gan to be turbulent at the time (his drama was written. The ei- 
 pveftsions arc so strong, that we must wonder how they could 
 be permitted in a publication of the year 1657, printed in Lon- 
 don.
 
 SCENE I. THE SUN*S DARLING. 387 
 
 What I presage, with understanding clear; 
 
 As your black thoughts are misty, take from me 
 
 This, as a true and certain augury : 
 
 This prince shall come, and, by his glorious side, 
 
 Laurel-crown'd conquest shall in triumph ride, 
 
 Arm'd with the justice that attends his cause. 
 
 You shall with penitence embrace his laws : 
 
 He to the frozen northern clime shall bring 
 
 A warmth so temperate, as shall force the Spring 
 
 Usurp my privilege, and by his ray 
 
 Night shall be changM into perpetual day : 
 
 Plenty and happiness shall still increase, 
 
 As does his light; and turtle-footed peace 
 
 Dance like a fairy through his realms, while all 
 
 That envy him, shall like swift comets fall, 
 
 By their own fire consum'd; and glorious he 
 
 Ruling, as 'twere, the force of destiny. 
 
 Shall have a long and prosperous reign on earth, 
 
 Then fly to Heaven, and give a new star birth. 
 
 A Flourish. Enter Raybright, Humour, Boun- 
 ty, and Delight. 
 
 But see, our star appears ; and from his eye 
 Fly thousand beams of sparkling majesty. 
 Bright son of Phoebus, welcome ! I begin 
 To feel the ice fall from my crisled skin ; 
 For at your beams the waggoner might thaw 
 His chariot, axled with Riphaean snow ; 
 Nay, the slow moving North-star, having felt 
 Your temperate heat, his icicles would melt. 
 
 Rai/. What bold rebellious caitiffs dare disturb 
 The happy progress of our glorious peace, 
 Contemn the justice of our equal laws. 
 Profane those sacred rights, which still must be 
 Attendant on monarchal dignity I 
 I came to frolic with you, and to cheer 
 Your drooping souls by vigour of my beams.
 
 388 THE SUN S DARLING. ACT V. 
 
 And have I this strange, welcome ? Reverend Win- 
 ter! 
 Tm come to be your guest ; your bounteous, tree 
 Condition does assure [me']> I shall have 
 A welcome entertainment. 
 
 Win. Illustrious sir ! 1 am ignorant 
 IIow much expression my true zeal will want 
 To entertain you fitly; yet my love 
 And hearty duty shall be far above 
 My outward welcome. To that glorious light 
 Of Heaven, the Sun, which chaccs hence the night, 
 I am so much a vassal, that I'll strive, 
 By honouring you, to keep my faith alive 
 To him, brave prince, to you *, who do inherit 
 Your father's cheerful heat and quick'ning spirit. 
 Therefore, as 1 am Winter, worn and spent 
 So far with age, 1 am Time's monument. 
 Antiquity's example, in my zeal 
 I, from my youth, a span of time will steal 
 To open the free treasures of my court, 
 And swell your soul with my delights and sport. 
 
 Jiai/. Never till now ^ 
 
 Did admiration beget in me truly 
 The rare-match'd twins at once, pity and pleasure, 
 So royal, so abundant in earth's blessings, 
 Should not partake the comfort of those beams, 
 With which the Sun, beyond extent, doth cheer 
 The other seasons ; yet my pleasures with you. 
 From thei-r false charms, do get the start, as far 
 As Heaven's great lamp from every minor star. 
 
 Bonn. Sir, you can speak well ; if your tongue 
 deliver 
 The message of your heart, without some cunning 
 
 * Assure me.'] The pronoun me, which the metre absolutely 
 requires, and which greatly improves the sense also, is not found 
 in the old copy. 
 
 * To you,^ Old copy reads^Ao' t/ou.
 
 SCENE I. THE SUN's DARLING. 389 
 
 Of restraint, we may hope to enjoy 
 
 The lasting riches of your presence hence, 
 
 Without distrust or change. 
 
 Ray. Winter*s sweet bride, 
 
 All conquering Bounty, queen of hearts, life's glory, 
 Nature's perfection ; whom all love, all serve ; 
 To whom Fortune, even in extreme 's a slave ; 
 When 1 fall from my duty to thy goodness, 
 Then let me be rank'd as nothing. 
 
 Boun, Come, you flatter me. 
 
 Ray. I flatter you ? W"hy, madam, you are 
 Bounty ; 
 Sole daughter to the royal throne of peace. 
 
 Hum. He minds not me now. 
 
 Ray. Bounty's self. 
 
 For you, he is no soldier dares not fight. 
 No scholar he, that dares not plead your merits, 
 Or study your best sweetness; should the Sun, 
 Eclips'd for many years, forbear to shine 
 Upon the bosom of our naked pastures, 
 Yet, where you are, the glories of your smiles 
 Would warm the barren grounds, arm heartless mi- 
 sery. 
 And cherish desolation. 'Deed I honour you, 
 And, as all others ought to do, 1 serve you. 
 
 Hum. Are these the rare sights, these the pro- 
 mis'd compliments? 
 
 Win. Attendance on our revels ! Let Delight 
 Conjoin the day with sable-footed night ; 
 Both shall forsake their orbs, and in one sphere 
 Meet in soft mirth and harmless pleasures here: 
 While plump Lyseus shall, with garland crown'd 
 Of triumph-ivy, in full cups abound 
 Of Cretan wine, and shall dame Ceres call 
 To wait on you, at Winter's festival : 
 While gaudy Summer, Autumn, and the Spring, 
 Shall to my lord their choicest viands bring.
 
 390 THE sun's darling. act v. 
 
 We'll rob the sea, and from the subtile air 
 Fetch her inhabitants, to supply our fare. 
 That, were Ai)icius here, he in one night 
 Should sate with dainties his strong appetite. 
 Begin our revels then, and let all pleasure 
 Flow like the ocean in a boundless measure. 
 
 A Flourish. Enter Conceit and Detraction. 
 
 Con. Wit and pleasure^ soft attention 
 Grace the sports of our invention, 
 
 Detr. Conceit, peace ! for Detraction 
 Hath already drawn a faction 
 Shall deride thee. 
 
 Con. Antick ', leave me ; 
 
 For in labouring to bereave me 
 Of a scholar s praise, thy dotage 
 Shall be hissed at. 
 
 Detr. Here's a hot age. 
 
 When such petty penmen covet 
 Fame by folly. On! F II prove it 
 Scurvy by thy part, and try thee 
 By thine oic7i wit. 
 
 Con. / defy thee ; 
 
 Here are nobler judges ; wit 
 Cannot su^'er where they sit. 
 
 Detr. Pr'ythee, foolish Conceit, leave off thy set 
 speeches, an<l come to the conceit itself in plain 
 language. What goodly thing is't, in the name of 
 laughter ? 
 
 ' yintictr.li The commen sense of this word in the dramatic 
 productions of the time of our author is a fool; and this meaning 
 ivas no (li)ubt diTived from the fool, vice, or antick of the oJd 
 moralities, for the fool and the vice arc certainly personages, if 
 not identical one with another, at least of a >er_v similar tendcn. 
 ry, Botvitht-tandiBi; Mr IUIsud's at^scrtioa to the contrary.
 
 SCENE 1. THE SUn'S DARLING. 391 
 
 Con. Detraction, do thy worst. Conceit appears, 
 In honour of the Sun, their fellow-friend. 
 Before thy censure : know then, that the spheres 
 Have for a while resigned their orbs, and lend 
 Their seats to the four Elements, who joined 
 With the four known complexions, have atoned '. 
 A noble league, and severally put on 
 Material bodies ; here amongst them none 
 Observes a difference : Earth and Air alike 
 Are sprightly active ; Fire and Water seek 
 No glory of pre-eminence ; Phlegm and Blood *, 
 Choler and Melancholy, who have stood 
 In contrarieties, now meet for pleasure 
 To entertain Time in a courtly measure. 
 
 Detr. Impossible and improper : first, to per- 
 sonate insensible creatures, and next, to compound 
 quite opposite humours ! Fie, fie, fie ! it's abomi- 
 nable. 
 
 Con. Fond ignorance] how darest thou vainly scan 
 Impossibility; what reigns in man 
 W^ithout disorder, wisely mix*d by nature, 
 To fashion and preserve so high a creature ? 
 
 ' Have aioned,'\ Have reconciled them. This is one of the nu- 
 merous passages which support the very singular, but, not- 
 withstanding, very probable etymology of this word given in 
 the following note of Mr Henley en Othello, Act I V. So. I. 
 " This expression is formed by the coalescence of the words <U 
 onCf the verb to set, or some equivalent being omitted. Thus 
 in the Acts : ' he showed himself to them as they strove, and 
 would have set them at one again.' And in The liee-Hive 
 of the Romish Church : ' through which God is mmde at one 
 wiih us, and hath forgiven us our sins." 
 
 ' The mystical correspondence of the four seasons, the four 
 elements, and the four complexions, was a source of great delight 
 to our ancestors, and one of them is scarce mentioned without 
 an allusion to the others. In the poems of Anne Broadstreet, 
 in the title-page called *' The Tenth Muse sprung up in Ame- 
 rica," there are poems entitled the Four Humours, Four Sea- 
 sons, and Four Monarchies. Philips's Theatr. Poet.
 
 392 THE sun's darling. act v. 
 
 Enter the Anti-Masqiiers, representing the Four E- 
 lements and the Four Complexions, on a raised 
 platform. 
 
 Detr. Sweet sir, when shall our mortal eyes be- 
 hold this new piece of wonder ? We must gaze on 
 the stars for it, doubtless. 
 
 The Masquers discovered. 
 
 Con. See, thus the clouds fly off, and run in chase, 
 When the Sun's bounty lends peculiar grace. 
 
 Detr. Fine, i'faith ; pretty, and in 'good earnest : 
 but, sirrah scholar, will they come down tool 
 
 Con. Behold them well ! the ibremost represents 
 Air, the most sportive of the elements. 
 
 Det. A nimble rascal ! I warrant him some al- 
 derman's son ; wonderous giddy and light-headed ; 
 one that blew his patrimony away in feather and 
 tobacco'. 
 
 ' Feather and tobacco.'] Feathers were an article of luxury 
 very popular in our author's days, not only with players, but 
 also with the whole race of gallants. Tobacco seems to have 
 been, at the time of its introduction, considered as absolutely 
 necessary for the completion of a perfect beau. This raj?c or 
 hamour is admirably ridiculed by Ben Junson in the comedy 
 of Every Man out of his Humour. From the following adver- 
 tisement of Shift, it must have been attended with far greater ex- 
 pence than our present smokers are subject to; " If this city, 
 
 or the suburbs of the same, do aiiord any young gentleman, 
 
 whose friends are but lately deceased, and whose lands are but 
 new come into his hands, that (to be as exactly qualified as the 
 best of our ordinary gallants are) is allected to entertain the most 
 gcntleman-like use of tobacco ; as first, to give it the most ex. 
 quisite j>erfnme ; then to know all the delicate sweet forms for 
 the assumption thereof; as also the rare corollary of the Cuban 
 
 ebolition, euripus and whitl, may it please him, but (by a 
 
 note of hand) to specify the j lace or ordinary where he uses to 
 eat and lie ; and most swet^t attendance with tobacco and pipes 
 jpf the best sort shall be ministered." In the sequel the same
 
 SCENE I. THE SUN S DARLING. :VJ^. 
 
 Con. The next near him is Fire. 
 
 Detr. A choleric gentleman : I should know 
 him ; a younger brother and a great spender, but 
 seldom or never carries any money about him : he 
 was begot when the sign was in Taurus, for a' 
 roars like a bull, but is indeed a bell- weather. 
 
 Con. The third in rank is Water. 
 
 Detr. A phlegmatick cold piece of stuif. His 
 father, methinks, should be one of the dunce-table', 
 and one that never drank strong beer in's life, but 
 at festival times ; and then he caught the heart- 
 burning a whole vacation and half a term after. 
 
 Con. The fourth is Earth. 
 
 Detr. A shrewd plotting-pated fellow, and a great 
 lover of news. 1 guess at the rest : Blood is placed 
 near air, Choler near Fire, Phlegm and Water are 
 sworn brothers, and so are Earth and Alelancholy. 
 
 Con. Fair nymph of Harmony, be it thy task 
 To sing them down, and rank them in a mask. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 See the elements conspire : 
 
 Nimble Air does court the Earth, 
 Water does commix icithjire, 
 
 To give our prince's pleasure birth. 
 Each delight, each joy, each sweet 
 In one composition meet : 
 All the seasons of the year ; 
 
 Winter does invoke the Spring, 
 Summer does in pride appear. 
 
 Autumn forth its fruits doth bring, 
 
 affectation is ridiculed ia the conversation of Fastidius Brisk with 
 Saviolina, which is frequently interrupted by his Tzhiffs of to- 
 bacco. 
 
 * Dunce-table.^ An inferior table provided in some colleges 
 for scholars who deserve such an appellation.
 
 394 THE sun's darling. act v. 
 
 Ajid with emulation pat/ 
 Their tribute to this hobj-day ; 
 In which the Darling of the Sun is come. 
 To make this place a new Klysiuui. 
 [The Masquers come downy dance, and c.rcunf. 
 
 Win. How do these pleasures please ? 
 
 Num. rieasures ! 
 
 Bonn. ' Live here, 
 
 And be my lord's friend ; and thy sports shall vary 
 A thousand ways ; Invention shall beget 
 Conceits, as curious as the thoughts of Change 
 Can aim at. 
 
 Hum. Trifles ! Progress o'er the year 
 Again, my Raybright ; therein like the Sun ; 
 As he in Heaven runs his circular course, 
 So thou on earth run thine : for to be fed 
 With stale delights, breeds dulness and contempt. 
 Think on the Spring. 
 
 Jiai/. She was a lovely virgin. 
 
 Win. My royal lord ! 
 "Without offence, be pleas'd but to afford 
 Me give you my true figure : do not scorn 
 My age ; nor think, 'cause 1 appear forlorn, 
 I serve for no use : 'tis my sharper breath 
 Does purge gross exhalations from the earth ; 
 My frosts and snows do purify the air 
 I'rom choking fogs, make the sky clear and fair : 
 And though by nature cold and chill 1 be, 
 Yet I am warm in bounteous charity ; 
 And can, my lord, by grave and sage advice, 
 Hring you to the happy shades of paradise. 
 
 Jiay. That wonder ? Oh, can you direct me thi- 
 ther I 
 
 Win. 1 can direct and point you out a path. 
 
 Hum. But where's your guide ? 
 Quicken thy spirits, Kaybright ; I'll not leave thee:
 
 SCENE I. THE SUN's DARLING. 395 
 
 We'll run the self-same race again, that happiness ; 
 These lazy, sleeping, tedious Winter's nights 
 Become not noble action. 
 
 Ray. To the Spring 
 
 I am resolv'd 
 
 The Sun appears above, Recorders playing. 
 
 Oh ! what strange light appears ? 
 The Sun is up, sure ! 
 
 Sun. Wanton Darling, look, 
 
 And worship with amazement. 
 
 Ray '. Oh, gracious lord ! 
 
 Sun. Thy sands are number'd and thy glass of 
 frailty 
 Here runs out to the last. Here, in this mirror. 
 Let man behold the circuit of his fortunes : 
 The season of the Spring dawns like the Morning, 
 Bedewing Childhood with unrelish'd beauties 
 Of gaudy sights : The Summer, as the Noon, 
 Shines in delight of Youth, and ripens strength 
 To Autumn's Manhood ; here the Evening grows, 
 And knits up all felicity in folly : 
 Winter at last draws on the Night of Age ; 
 Yet still a humour of some novel fancy 
 (Jntasted or untried, puts off the minute 
 Of resolution, which should bid farewell 
 To a vain world of weariness and sorrows. 
 The powers, from whom man does derive his pedi- 
 gree 
 Of his creation, with a royal bounty 
 Give him Health, Youth, Delight, for free attendants 
 To rectify his carriage : to be thankful 
 Again to them, man should cashier his riots, 
 His bosom's whorish sweetheart, idle Humour ; 
 
 * Ratf.'] This speech, in the old copy, is not appropriated, 
 and appears thus : ^' Oes, gracious lord."
 
 396 THE sun's darling. act v. 
 
 His Reason' dangerous seducer, Folly : 
 Then shall, like four straight pillars, the four Elements 
 Support the goodly structure of mortality ; 
 Then shall the four Complexions, like four heads 
 Of a clear river, streaming in his body, 
 Nourish and comfort every vein and sinew. 
 No sickness of contagion, no grim death 
 Or ' deprivation of Health's real blessings. 
 Shall then affright the creature built by Heaven , 
 Reserv'd to immortality. Henceforth 
 In peace go to our altars, and no more 
 Question the power of supernal greatness, 
 But give us leave to govern as we please 
 Nature and her dominion, who from us 
 And from our gracious influence, hath both being 
 And preservation ; no replies, but reverence ! 
 Men hath a double guard, if time can win him, 
 Heaven's power above him, his own peace within 
 him. [^Exeunt. 
 
 ' Or,] Old copy of.
 
 THE WITCH OF EDMONTON. 
 
 BY ROWLEY, DEKKER, FORD, &c.
 
 THE WITCH OF EDxMONTON. 
 
 This tragedy, which is founded upon the history of an un- 
 fortunate old woman, who was condemned and executed for 
 witchcraft in the year 1622, was not published till 1658, when 
 it appeared in quarto, with the following title: *' The Witch of 
 Kdmonton. A known True Story. Composed into a Tragi- 
 Comedy by divers well esteemed poets, William Rowley, Thomas 
 J)t;kker, John Ford, &c. Acted by the Prince's Servants often, 
 at the Cock. pit in Drury-Lane, once at Court, with singular ap- 
 plause. Never printed till now. London, printed by J. Cot- 
 trel for Edward Blackmore, at the Angel in Paul's Church, 
 yard." A curious wooden cut is placed on the title-page. To 
 the right an old woman is pourtrayed, with the following words 
 on a label out of her mouth, ^' Sanctabecetur nomen tuum," and 
 over her head, " Mother Sawyer ;" to the left a black dog ut- 
 tering these words, which are also on a label, " Ho, haue I 
 found thee cursing." Below, the clown Cuddy Banks in the 
 water, crying out, '' Help, help, I am drownd," and his name 
 over his head. 
 
 This performance, which, on many accounts, is a very sin. 
 gular one, was probably produced while the remembrance of the 
 superstitious trial which gave rise to it was yet fresh in the re- 
 membrance of the audience, and appears to have been the pro- 
 duce of a very extensive partnership of dramatic talents. Some 
 conjectures respecting the part which Ford took in the compo- 
 sition have been already hazarded in the Introduction; and 
 some account of Dekker, another copartner, has been 
 given in the preliminary observations prefixed to The Sun's 
 Darling. William Rowley, who stands at the head of the 
 trio (for as to the number and names of the poets included 
 in the et ccetera^ we cannot form any conjecture) was a play- 
 er and a poet of considerable reputation. Oldys thus notices 
 him in his MS. notes on Langbaine : " Maister Rowley was once 
 a rare scholar of learned Pembroke Hall, in Cambridge, says 
 Meres in his second part of Wit's Commonwealth, 12. 1598, 
 p. 283, where he mentions him among the best writers of come-
 
 400 THE WITCH OF EDMONTON. 
 
 dies in those days. There was one William Rowley was head of 
 the Prince's company of comedians in 1613 to 1616. Sec the 
 office-books of the Lord Stanhope, treasurer of the chambers in 
 those years, in Dr Rawiinson's possession." It has been doubt- 
 ed, upon rery slight grounds howeTcr, whether the Rowley 
 mentioned by Meres was one and the same with the poet we are 
 speaking of. Many authors of those days continued their poeti. 
 cal career fully as long. His comedy, entitled The Match at 
 Midnight, has very considerable merit, and he had a share in one 
 of the best comedies produced by the third class of dramatic au- 
 thors in those days, The Fair Quarrel, which he wrote in con. 
 junction with Thomas Middleton. The beautiful play of The 
 Parliament of Love, which has been lately printed in Mr Gif- 
 ford's edition of Massinger, was, in the manuscript of it destroy- 
 ed by the servant of Mr Warburton, attributed to him, which 
 makes it probable that he had at least some share in the composition. 
 The date of his death is entirely unknown.
 
 PROLOGUE. 
 
 The town of Edmonton hath lent the stage 
 A devil and a witch *, both in an age. 
 To make comparisons it were uncivil, 
 Between so even a pair, a witch and devil : 
 But as the year doth with his plenty bring. 
 As well a latter as a former spring, 
 So hath this witch enjoy'd the first ; and reason 
 Presumes she may partake the other season : 
 In acts deserving name, the proverb says, 
 ** Once good and ever ;" why not so in plays ? 
 Why not in this, since, gentlemen, we flatter 
 No expectation ? here is mirth and matter. 
 
 Mr BiED +. 
 
 This is aa alinsion to the very popular play of The Merry Devil of 
 Edmonton, reprinted by Dodsley, and founded on the history of one Peter 
 Fabel, who lived in the reign of Henry VII. and was reputed a conjurer. 
 
 t See p. 225 of this VQlunie> 
 
 VOL. 11. C C
 
 DRAMATIS PERSON ;E. 
 
 Sir Arthur Clarington. 
 Old Thorn EY, a gentleman. 
 Old Carter, a rich yeoman. 
 Old Banks, a countryman. 
 
 W. Mago, 7 
 
 WtT * f two countrymen, 
 
 . Hamluc*, 3 
 
 Three other countrymen. 
 
 Warbeck, 7 . _ , , , 
 
 o > suitors to Carter saaushters. 
 
 aOMERTON,3 * 
 
 Frank, Thorney's son. 
 
 Young Cuddy Banks, the clown. 
 
 Four Morris-dancers. 
 
 Old Ratcliffe. 
 
 Sawgut, an old fiddler. 
 
 PoLDAVis, a barber s boy. 
 
 Justice. 
 
 Constable, 
 
 Officers. 
 
 Serving'men. 
 
 A Spirit. 
 
 A Familiar^ in the shape of a dog. 
 
 W, Mago and W. Hamluc were probably the names of two 
 inferior actors, who personated two of the countrymen.
 
 404 DRAMATIS PERSONiE. 
 
 Mother Sawyer, the witch. 
 Ann, Ratcliffe'.9 wife. 
 
 Susan, ^ 
 
 TT > Carter s daughters. 
 
 Katherine, 3 
 
 Winnifrede, Sir Arthur's maid. 
 
 Scene. The town and neighbourhood of Edmonton. 
 In the end of the last Act, London. 
 
 The whole Argument is this distich 
 
 i : 
 
 Forc'd. marriage, murder ; murder blood requires ; 
 Reproach, revenge ; revenge, hell's help desires.
 
 THE WITCH OF EDMONTON. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE I. Edmonton. A Room in the House of 
 Sir Arthur Clarington. 
 
 Belter Frank Thorney, and Winnifrede, with 
 
 child. 
 
 Frank. Come, wench; why here's a business 
 soon dispatch'd. 
 Thy heart I know is now at ease : thou need'st not 
 Fear what the tattling gossips in their cups 
 Can speak against thy fame : thy child shall know 
 Whom to call dad now. 
 
 Win. You have discharg'd 
 
 The true part of an honest man ; I cannot 
 Request a fuller satisfaction 
 Than you have freely granted : yet methinks 
 'Tis an hard case, being lawful man and wife, 
 We should not live together. 
 
 Frank. Had I failM 
 
 In promise of my truth to thee, we must 
 
 Have been then ever sundered ; now the longest 
 
 >
 
 406 THE WITCH OF EDMONTON. ACT I. 
 
 Of our forbearing either*s company, 
 
 Is only but to gain a little time 
 
 For our continuing thrift, that so hereafter 
 
 The heir that shall be born may not have cause 
 
 To curse his hour of birth, which made him feel 
 
 The misery of beggary and want; 
 
 Two devils that are occasions to enforce 
 
 A shameful end. My plots aim but to keep 
 
 My father's love. 
 
 Win. And that will be as difficult 
 
 To be preserv'd, when he shall understand 
 How you are married, as it will be now, 
 Should you confess it to him. 
 
 Frank. Fathers are 
 
 Won by degrees, not bluntly as our masters 
 Or wronged friends are ; and besides I'll use 
 Such dutiful and ready means, that ere 
 He can have notice of what's past, th* inheritance 
 To which I am born heir, shall be assur'd : 
 That done, why let him know it; if he like it not 
 Yet he shall have no power in him left 
 To cross the thriving of it. 
 
 Win. You who had 
 
 The conquest of my maiden-love may easily 
 Conquer the fears of my distrust. And whither 
 Must I be hurried ? 
 
 Frank. ^ Pr'ythee do not use 
 
 A word so much unsuitable to the constant 
 Affections of thy husband. Thou shalt live 
 Near Waltham-Abbey, with thy uncle Selman. 
 I have acquainted him with all at large : 
 He'll use thee kindly: thou shalt want no plea- 
 sures. 
 Nor any other fit supplies whatever 
 Thou canst in heart desire. 
 
 Win. All these are nothing 
 
 Without your company.
 
 SCENE I. THE WITCH OP EDMONTON. 407 
 
 Frank, Which thou shalt have 
 
 Once every month at least. 
 
 Win. Once every month ! 
 
 Is this to have an husband ? 
 
 Frank. Perhaps oft'ner : 
 
 That's as occasion serves. 
 
 Win. Ay, ay : in case 
 
 No other beauty tempt your eye, whom you 
 Like better, 1 may chance to be remember'd. 
 And see you now and then. 'Faith ! I did hope 
 You'd not have used me so : 'tis but my fortune. 
 And yet, if not for my sake, have some pity 
 Upon the child I go with ; that's your own. 
 And 'less you'll be a cruel-hearted father. 
 You cannot but remember that. 
 Heaven knows how 
 
 Frank. To quit which fear at once, 
 
 As by the ceremony late perform'd, 
 I plighted thee a faith, as free from challenge. 
 As any double thought ; once more, in hearing 
 Of Heaven and thee, I vow that never henceforth 
 Disgrace, reproof, lawless affections, threats. 
 Or what can be suggested 'gainst our marriage, 
 Shall cause me falsify that bridal oath 
 That binds me thine. And, Winnifrede, whenever 
 The wanton heats of youth, by subtle baits 
 Of beauty, or what woman's art can practice, 
 Draw me from only loving thee, let Heaven 
 Inflict upon my life some fearful ruin ! 
 I hope thou dost believe me. 
 
 Win. Swear no more ; 
 
 I am confirm'd, and will resolve to do 
 What you think most behoveful for us. 
 
 Frank, Thus then: 
 
 Make thyself ready ; at the furthest house 
 Upon the green, without the town, your uncle 
 Expects you. For a little time farewell.
 
 406 THE WllCH OF EDMONTON. ACT I. 
 
 Win. Sweet, 
 
 We shall meet again as soon as thou canst possibly! 
 Frank. We shall. . One kiss. Away. 
 
 [^Exit WlNNIFREDE. 
 
 Enter Sir Arthur Clarikgton. 
 
 Sir Ar. Frank Thorney ! 
 
 Frank. Here, sir ! 
 
 Sir Ar. Alone? Then must I tell thee in plain 
 terms, 
 Thou hast wrong'd thy master's house basely and 
 lewdly. 
 
 Frank. Your house, sir \ 
 
 Sir Ar. Yes, sir, if the nimble devil 
 
 That wantoned in your blood, rebell'd against 
 All rules of honest duty, you might, sir, 
 Have found out some more fitting place than here. 
 To have built a stews in. All the country whispers 
 How shamefully thou hast undone a maid. 
 Approved for modest life, for civil carriage'. 
 Till thy prevailing perjuries entic'd her 
 To forfeit shame. Will you be honest yet? 
 Make her amends and marry her? 
 
 Frank. So, sir, 
 
 I might bring both myself and her to beggary. 
 And that would be a shame worse than the other. 
 
 Sir Ar. You should have thought on this before, 
 and then 
 Your reason would have oversway*d the passion 
 Of your unruly lust. But that you may 
 Be left without excuse, to salve the infamy 
 Of my disgraced house, and 'cause you are 
 A gentleman, and both of you my servants, 
 ril make the maid a portion. 
 
 Frank. So you promised me 
 
 * Carriage,'] i.e. Conduct.
 
 SCNK I. THE WITCH OF EDMONTON. 409 
 
 Before, in case I married her. I know 
 Sir Arthur Clarington deserves the credit 
 Report hath U?nt him ; and presume you are 
 A debtor to your promise: but upon 
 W hat certainty shall 1 resolve ? Excuse me 
 For being somewhat rude. 
 
 Sir Ar, It is but reason. 
 
 Well, Frank, what think'st thou of two hundred 
 
 pounds, 
 And a continual friend? 
 
 Frank. Tho' my poor fortune 
 
 Might happily prefer mc to a choice 
 Of a far greater portion ; yet to right 
 A wronged maid, and to preserve your favour, 
 1 am content to accept your proffer. 
 
 Sir Ar. Art thou? 
 
 Frank. Sir, we shall every day have need to em- 
 ploy 
 The use ot what you please to give. 
 
 Sir Ar. Thou shalt have it. 
 
 Frank. Then I claim your promise. We are man 
 and wife. 
 
 Sir Ar. Already ? 
 
 Frank. And more than so, I have promis'd her 
 Free entertainment in her uncle's house 
 Near Waltham- Abbey, where she may securely 
 Sojourn, till time and my endeavours work 
 My father's love and liking. 
 
 Sir Ar. Honest Frank ! 
 
 Frank. I hope, sir, you will think 1 cannot keep 
 her 
 Without a daily charge. 
 
 Sir Ar. As for the money, 
 
 *Tis all thine own ; and tho' I cannot make thee 
 A present payment, yet thou shalt be sure 
 I will not fail thee. 
 
 Frank. But our occasions
 
 410 THE WITCH OF EDMONTON. ACT I. 
 
 Sir Ar. Nay, nay, talk not of your occasions ; 
 trust my bounty, 
 It shall not sleep. Hast married her i^faith, Frank? 
 *Tis well, *tis passing well. Then, Winnifrede, 
 Once more thou art an honest woman. Frank, 
 Thou hast a jewel: love her; she'll deserve it. 
 And when to Waltham ? 
 
 Frank. She is making ready. 
 
 Her uncle stays for her. 
 
 Sir Ar. Most provident speed. 
 
 Frank, 1 will be [your'] friend, and such a friend! 
 Thou wilt bring her thither? 
 
 Frank. Sir, I cannot: newly 
 
 My father sent me word 1 should come to him. 
 
 Sir Ar. Marry, and do : I know thou hast a wit 
 To handle him. 
 
 Frank. 1 have a suit to you. 
 
 SirAr, What is' t? 
 
 Anv thing, Frank ; command it. 
 
 Prank. . That j'ou'U please 
 
 By letters to assure my father, that 
 I am not married. 
 
 Sir Ar. How ? 
 
 Frank. Some one or other 
 
 Hath certainly inform'd him, that 1 purpos'd 
 To marry Winnifrede ; on which he threatened 
 To disinherit me ; to prevent it 
 Lowly I crave your letters, which he seeing 
 Will credit; and 1 hope ere I return, 
 On such conditions as I'll frame, his lands 
 Shall be assur'd. 
 
 Sir Ar. But what is that to quit 
 
 My knowledge of the marriage? 
 
 Frank. Why, you were not 
 
 A witness to it. 
 
 Your.'] This word is rasuaily omitted in the quarto. 
 
 9
 
 SCENE I. THE WITCH OF EDMONTON. 411 
 
 Sir Ar. I conceive : and then 
 
 His land confirmed, thou wilt acquaint him 
 
 throughly 
 With all that's past \ 
 
 Franks I mean no less. 
 
 Sir Ar. Provided 
 
 I never was made privy to*t. 
 
 Frank. Alas, sir, 
 
 Am 1 a talker? 
 
 Sir Ar. Draw thyself the letter, 
 rU put my hand to't. I commend thy policy : 
 Thou'rt witty, witty, Frank ; nay, nay, *tis fit : 
 Dispatch it. 
 
 Frank. I shall write effectually. \^Exit. 
 
 Sir Ar. Go thy way, cuckoo ! Have I caught the 
 young man ? 
 One trouble then is freed. He that will feast 
 At other's cost, must be a bold-fac'd guest. 
 
 Enter Winnifrede in a riding-suit. 
 
 Win. I have heard the news ; all now is safe. 
 The worst is past. 
 
 Sir Ar. Thy lip, wench ! I must bid 
 
 Farewell, for fashion's sake ; but I will visit thee 
 Suddenly, girl. This was cleanly carried : 
 Ha ! was't not. Win \ 
 
 Win. Then were my happiness, 
 
 That I in heart repent I did not bring him 
 The dower of virginity. Sir, forgive me ; 
 I have been much to blame. Had not my laun- 
 dress 
 Given way to your immoderate waste of virtue. 
 You had not with such eagerness pursued 
 The error of your goodness. 
 
 Sir Ar. Dear, dear Win, 
 
 I hug this art of thine ; it shews how cleanly 
 Thou canst beguile in case occasion serve
 
 412 THE WITCH OF EDMONTON. ACT I. 
 
 To practise ; it becomes thee. Now we share 
 Free scope enough, without controul or fear, 
 To interchange our pleasures ; we will surfeit 
 In ouf embraces, wench. Come, tell me, when 
 Wilt thou appoint a meeting? 
 
 ^m. What to do ? 
 
 Sir Ar. Good, good, to con the lesson of our 
 loves. 
 Our secret game. 
 
 Win. Oh, blush to speak it further ? 
 
 As you're a noble gentleman, forget 
 A sin so monstrous ! 'Tis not gently done. 
 To open a cured wound. 1 know you speak 
 For trial : 'Troth, you need not. 
 
 Sir Ar. I for trial ! 
 
 Not I, by this good sunshine ! 
 
 Win. Can you name 
 
 That syllable of good, and yet not tremble 
 To think to what a foul and black intent 
 You use it for an oath ? Let me resolve you : 
 If you appear in any visitation. 
 That brings not with it pity for the wrongs 
 Done to abused Thorney, my kind husband ; 
 If you infect mine ear with any breath 
 That is not thoroughly perfuui'd with sighs 
 For former deeds of love : may 1 be curs'd 
 Even in my prayers, when 1 vouchsafe 
 To see or hear you ! 1 will change my life. 
 From a loose whore to a repentant wife. 
 
 Sir Ar. Wilt thou turn monster now ? art not 
 asham'd 
 After so many months to be honest at last ? 
 Away, away ! fie on't ! 
 
 Win. My resolution 
 
 Is built upon a rock. This very day 
 Young Thorney vow'd with oaths not to be doubted, 
 That never any change of love should cancel
 
 SCENK I. THE WITCH OF EDMONTON. 413 
 
 The bonds in which we are to either bound, 
 
 Of lasting truth. And shall I then for niy part 
 
 Unfile the sacred oath set on record 
 
 In Heaven*s book 1 Sir Arthur, do not study 
 
 To add to your lascivious lust, the sin 
 
 Of sacrilege : for if you but endeavour 
 
 By any unchaste word to tempt my constancv, 
 
 You strive as much as in you lies to ruin 
 
 A temple hallowed to the purity 
 
 Of holy marriage. 1 have said enough : 
 
 You may believe me. 
 
 Sir Ar. Get you to your nunnery, 
 
 Then freeze in your old cloister. This is fine ! 
 Win. Good angels guide me ! Sir, you'll give 
 me leave 
 To weep and pray for your conversion? 
 
 Sir Ar. Yes ; away to Waltham. Pox on your 
 honesty ! 
 Had you no other trick to fool me ? Well, 
 You may want money yet. 
 
 Win. None that 1*11 send for 
 
 To you for hire of a damnation ? 
 When I am gone, think on my just complaint : 
 I was your devil : Oh, be you my saint ! \^E.vit. 
 Sir Ar. Go, go thy ways : as changeable a bag- 
 gage 
 As ever cozened knight. I'm glad Tm rid of her. 
 Honest ! marry hang her ! Thorney is my debtor ; 
 1 thought to have paid him too ; but fools have 
 fortune. [Exit.
 
 414 THE WITCH OF EDMONTON. ACT I. 
 
 SCENE II. A Room in Carter's House. 
 
 Enter Old Thorney and Old Carter. 
 
 Thor. You offer, master Carter, like a gentleman. 
 I cannot find fault with it, *tis so fair. 
 
 Cur. No gentleman J, master Thorney ; spare 
 the mastership : call me by my name, John Car- 
 ter. Master is a title my father, nor his before 
 him, were acquainted with. Honest Hertfordshire 
 yeomen, such an one am I. My word and my 
 deed shall be proved one at all times. 1 mean to 
 give you no security for the marriage-money. 
 
 Thor. How ? no security ? Altho* it need not as 
 long as you live ; yet who is he has surety of his 
 life one hour ? Men, the proverb says, are mor- 
 tal : else, ior my part, I distrust you not, were the 
 sum double. 
 
 Car. Double, treble, more or less ; I tell you, 
 master Thorney, 1 give no security. Bonds and 
 bills are but tarriers to catch tools, and keep lazy 
 knaves busy. My security shall be. present pay- 
 ment. And we here, about Edmonton, hold pre- 
 sent payment as sure as an alderman's bond in 
 London, master Thorney. 
 
 Thor. I cry you mercy, sir, I understood you 
 not. 
 
 Car, I like young Frank well ; so does my Su- 
 san too. The girl has a tancy to him, which makes 
 me ready in my purse. There be other suitors 
 within, that make much noise to little purpose. If 
 Frank love Sue, Sue shall have none but Frank. 
 *Tis a mannerly girl, master Thorney, tho* but an 
 homely man's daughter. There have worse faces 
 looked out of black bags, man.
 
 SCENE II. THE WITCH OF EDMONTON. 415 
 
 Thor. You speak your mind freely and honestly. 
 I marvel my son comes not. I am sure he will be 
 here some time to-day. 
 
 Car. Today or to-morrow, when he comes he 
 shall be welcome to bread, beer, and beef, yeoman*s 
 fare ; we have no kickshaws : full dishes, whole 
 belly-fulls. Should 1 diet three days at one of the 
 slender city suppers, you might send me to Barber- 
 Surgeon's hall the fourth day, to hang up for an 
 anatomy '. Here come they that 
 
 Enter Waubeck icith Susan, Somerton with 
 Katherine. 
 
 How now girls ? every day play-day with you ? 
 Valentine's day, too ? all by couples ? Thus will 
 young folks do when we are laid in our graves, mas- 
 ter Thorney. Here's all the care they take. And 
 how do you find the wenches, gentlemen ? have 
 they any mind to a loose gown and a strait shoe ? 
 Win 'em and wear *em. They shall choose for them- 
 selves by my consent. 
 
 War. You speak like a kind father. Sue, thou 
 hearest 
 The liberty that's granted thee. What sayest thou ? 
 Wilt thou be mine ? 
 
 Sus. Your what, sir \ I dare swear 
 
 Never your wife. 
 
 War. Canst thou be so unkind, 
 
 Considering how dearly I affect thee, 
 Nay dote on thy perfections ? 
 
 Sus. You are studied ; 
 
 Too scholar-like in words : I understand not. 
 I am too coarse for such a gallant's love 
 As you are. 
 
 War. By the honour of gentility 
 
 * Anatomy,'] A skeleton.
 
 41G THE WITCH OF EDMONTON. ACT I. 
 
 Sus. Good sir, no swearing : yea and nay with 
 us 
 Prevails above all oaths you can invent. 
 
 War. By this white hand ot thine 
 
 Sus. Take a false oath ? 
 
 Fie, fie ! flatter the wise : fools not regard it ; 
 And one of these am I. 
 
 M^ar. Dost thou despise me ? 
 
 Car. Let *em talk on, master Thorney. 1 know 
 Sue*s mind. The fly may buzz about the candle, 
 he shall but singe his wings when all's done. Frank, 
 FVank is he has her heart. 
 
 Som. But shall I live in hope, Kate ! 
 
 Kath. Better so, 
 
 Than be a desperate man. 
 
 Som. Perhaps thou think'st it is thy portion 
 I level at ! W ert thou as poor in fortunes 
 As thou art rich in goodness, I would rather 
 Be suitor for the dower of thy virtues. 
 Than twice thy father's whole estate : and, pr*y- 
 
 thee. 
 Be thou resolv'd' so. 
 
 Kath. Master Somerton, 
 
 It is an easy labour to deceive 
 A maid that will believe men's subtle promises: 
 Yet I conceive of you as worthily 
 As I presume you do deserve. 
 
 Som. Which is. 
 
 As worthily in loving thee sincerely, 
 As thou art worthy to be so belov'd. 
 
 Kath. I shall find time to try you. 
 
 .Sow. Do, Kate, do : 
 
 And when I fail, may all my joys forsake me. 
 
 Car. Warbeck and Sue are at it still. 1 laugh 
 to myself, master Thorney, to see how earnestly 
 
 * Resolvedf'] Conyiaccd, satisfied.
 
 SCENE II. THE WITCH OF EDMONTON. 417 
 
 he beats the bush, while the bird is flown into 
 another's bosom. A very unthritt, master Thor- 
 ney ; one of the country roaring-lads': we have 
 such as well as the city, and as arrant rake-hells as 
 they are, though not so nimble at their prizes of 
 wit. Sue knows the rascal to an hair's- breadth, 
 and will fit him accordingly. 
 
 Thor. What is the other gentleman ? 
 
 Car. One Somerton ; tiie honester man of the 
 two, by fi\e pound in every stone-weight. A. 
 civil fellow. He has a fine convenient estate of 
 land by Westham in Essex. Master Ranges, that 
 dwells by Enfield, sent him hither. He likes Kate 
 well : 1 may tell you, I think she likes him as well. 
 If they agree, I'll not hinder the match for my part. 
 
 But that Warbeck is such another i'll use him 
 
 kindly for master Somerton's sake : for he came 
 hither first as a companion of his. Honest m<^n, 
 master Thorney, may fall into knaves* company 
 now and then. 
 
 War. Three hundred a year jointure, Sue. 
 
 Sus. Where lies it ! 
 
 By sea or land ? I think by sea. 
 
 War. Do 1 look like a captain \ 
 
 Sus. Not a whit, sir. 
 
 Should all that use the seas be reckoned captams. 
 There's not a ship should have a scullion in her 
 To keep her clean. 
 
 War. Do you scorn me, mistress Susan I 
 
 Am I a subject to be jeer'd at ? 
 
 Sus. Neither 
 
 Am 1 a property for you to use 
 As stale * to your fond wanton loose discourse. 
 Pray, sir, be civil. 
 
 * Roarfng~lads.^ See p. 333 of this volume. 
 
 * Stale.'l This word seems to be used here in the aia8 sense 
 as in the following lines of Shakespeare : 
 
 VOL. II. D d
 
 418 THE WITCH OF EDMONTON. ACT I. 
 
 JVar. Wilt be angry, wasp ? 
 
 Car. God-a mercy, Siio. bhe'U firk ' him on my 
 life, if he fumble with her. 
 
 Enter Frank. 
 
 Master Francis Thorney, you are welcome indeed, 
 ^our father expected your coming. How does the 
 right worshipful knight, Sir Arthur Clarington, your 
 master ? 
 
 Frank. In health this morning. Sir, my duty. 
 
 TAor. jSow 
 
 You come as I could wish. 
 
 War. Frank Thorney 1 ha ! \_Aside. 
 
 Sus. You must excuse me. 
 
 Frank, f Saluting them. J Virtuous mistress Susan. 
 Kind mistress Katherine. Gentlemen, to both 
 Good time o' th' day. 
 
 Som. The like to you. 
 
 War. (Aside.) 'Tis he. 
 
 A word, friend, f Aside to Som.^ On my life, this is 
 
 the man 
 Stands fair in crossing Susan's love to me. 
 
 Som. 1 think no less. Be wise and take no no- 
 tice on*t. 
 He that can win her, best deserves her. 
 
 War. Marry, 
 
 A serving man ? mew ! 
 
 Som. Pr'ythee, friend, no more. 
 
 Car. Gentlemen all, there's within a slight din- 
 ner ready, if you please to taste of it. Master Thor- 
 
 ** I stand dUlionoiir'd to have {^fone aboat 
 To link my dear friend to a common stale." 
 
 * Firk,'] Chastise, beat In the same sense it occurs in Bar- 
 ry's Ram. Alley : 
 
 -" nay, I will/frfc 
 
 My Hilly novice, at he was n^yerfirVd 
 Since midwives bound his noddis^**
 
 SCENE II. THE WITCH OF EDMONTON. 419 
 
 ney, master Francis, master Somerton ! Why, 
 girls? what, huswives, will you spend all your fore- 
 noon in tittle-tattles ? Away : it's well, i'faith. 
 Will you go in, gentlemen ? 
 
 Thor. We'll follow presently : my son and I 
 Have a few words of business. 
 
 Car. At your pleasure. 
 
 [^Exeunt all but Thorn ey and Frank. 
 
 Thor. I think you guess the reason, Frank, for 
 which 
 I sent for you. 
 
 Frank. Yes, sir. 
 
 Thor, I need not tell you 
 
 With what a labyrinth of d,ingers daily 
 The best part of my whole estate's encumbered : 
 Nor have I any clew to wind it out. 
 But what occasion proffers me. Wherein, 
 If you should falter, I shall have the shame, 
 And you the loss. On these two points rely 
 Our happiness or ruin. If you marry 
 With wealthy Carter's daughter, there's a portion 
 Will free my land ; all which I will instate 
 Upon the marriage to you. Otherwise 
 I must be of necessity enforc'd 
 To make a present sale of all ; and yetj 
 For ought 1 know, live in as poor distress, 
 Or worse, than now I do. You hear the sum : 
 I told you thus beibre. Have you consider'don't! 
 
 Frank. 1 have, sir. And however 1 could wish 
 To enjoy the benefit of single freedom. 
 For ' that I find no disposition in me 
 To undergo the burthen of that care 
 That marriage brings with it ; yet to secure 
 And settle the continuance of your credit, 
 
 ' For."] This word was frequently, as in the present case, 
 used in the sense of because.
 
 490 TU; WITCH OF EDMONTOy. ACT I. 
 
 I humbly yield to be directed by you 
 In all commands. 
 
 Tlior. You have already used 
 
 Such thriving protestations to the maid, 
 
 Th^t she is whojly your's. And speak the 
 
 truth, 
 You love her, do you not ? 
 
 Frank. *Twere pity, sir, 
 
 1 should deceive her. 
 
 Thor. Better you had been unborn. 
 
 Bui is your love <o steady that you mean. 
 Nay more, desire, to make her your wife? 
 
 Frank. Else, sir, 
 
 It were a wrong not to be righted. 
 
 Thor, True, 
 
 It were : and you will marry her i 
 
 Frank. Heaven prosper it ! 
 
 I do intend it. 
 
 Thor. Oh, thou art a villain ! 
 A devil like a man ! Wherein have I 
 Offended all the powers so much, to be 
 Father to such a graceless, godless son ? 
 
 Frank. To me, sir, this ? Oh, my cleft heart ! 
 
 Thor. To thee, 
 
 Son of my curse. Speak truth and blush, thou 
 
 monster ! 
 Hast thou not married Winnifrede, a maid 
 Was fellow-servant with thee ? 
 
 Frank. (Aside.) Some swift spirit 
 
 Has blown this news abroad. I must outface it. 
 
 Thor. Do you study for excuse ? why all the 
 country 
 Isfullon't. 
 
 Frank. With your license, *tis not charitable ; 
 I'm sure it is not fatherly, so much 
 To be o*er8wayed with credulous conceit
 
 CENE II. THE WITCH OF EDMONTON. 421 
 
 Of mere imp ssibilitics. But tathers 
 
 Are privileg'd to think and talk at pleasure, 
 
 Thor. Wh}^ canst thou yet deny thou hast no 
 wife ? 
 
 Frank. What do you take me for ? an atheist ? 
 One that nor hpes the blessedness of life 
 Hereafter, neither fears the vengeance due 
 To such as make the marriage-bed an inn, 
 Which travellers, day and uight, 
 After a toilsome lodgmg, leave at pleasure ? 
 Am I become so insensible of losing 
 The glory of creation's work, my soul ? 
 Oh, 1 have livM too long ! 
 
 Thor. Thou hast, dissembler : 
 
 Dar'st thou persever yet, and pull down wrath 
 As hot as flames of hell, to strike thee quick ' 
 Into the grave of horror I 1 believe thee not. 
 Get from my sight ! 
 
 Frank. Sir, though mine innocence 
 
 Needs not a stronger witness than the clearness 
 Of an unperish'd conscience ; yet for that 
 I was informed, how mainly you had been 
 Possessed of this untruth, to quit all scruple 
 Please you peruse this letter ; *tis to you. 
 
 Thor. From whom ? 
 
 Frank. Sir Arthur Clarington, my master. 
 
 Thor, Well, sir. \^I<tads. 
 
 Frank, f Aside. J On every side I am distracted : 
 Am waded deeper into mischief 
 Than virtue can avoid. But on I must : 
 Fate leads me ; I will follow. There you read 
 W hat may confirm you*. 
 
 Thor. Yes, and wonder at it. 
 
 Forgive me, Frank. CreduUty abus'd me. 
 
 ' Quicky'] AKtc. 
 
 ' Confirm^] i. e. ConTince.
 
 422 THE WITCH OF EDMONTON. ACT I- 
 
 My tears express my joy : and 1 am sorry 
 I injur'd innocence. 
 
 Frank. Alas ! 1 knew 
 
 Your rage and grief proceeded from your love 
 To me ; so 1 conceived it. 
 
 Thor. My good son, 
 
 ril bear with many faults in thee hereafter: 
 Bear thou with mine. 
 
 Frank. The peace is soon concluded. 
 
 Enter Old Carter and Susan. 
 
 Car. Why, master Thorney, d'you mean to talk 
 out your dinner ? The company attends your com- 
 ing. What must it be, master Frank, or son 
 Frank ? I am plain Dunstable. 
 
 Thor. Son, brother, if your daughter like to have 
 it so. 
 
 Frank. 1 dare be confident, she is not alter'd 
 From what 1 h ft her at our parting last.- 
 Are you, fair maid ? 
 
 Sus. You took too sure possession 
 
 Of an engaged heart. 
 
 Frank. Which now I challenge. 
 
 Car. Marry, and much good may it do thee, son. 
 Take her to thee. Get me a brace of boys at a 
 burthen, Frank. The nurse shall not stand thee 
 in a pennyworth of milk. Reach her home and 
 spare her not. W hen's the day \ 
 
 Thor. To-morrow if you please. To use cere- 
 mony 
 Of charge and custom were to little purpose : 
 Their loves are married fast enough already. 
 
 Car. A good motion. We'll e'en have an house- 
 hold dinner, and let the fiddlers go scrape. Let the 
 bride and bridegroom dance at night together : no 
 matter for the guests. To-morrow, Sue, tOTmor- 
 row. Shall's to dinner now ?
 
 SCENE II. THE WITCH OF EDMONTON. 423 
 
 Thor. We are on all sides pleas'd, I hope. 
 
 Sus. Pray Heaven 1 may deserve the blessing 
 sent me ! 
 Now my heart's settled. 
 
 Frank. So is mine. 
 
 Car, Your marriage-money shall be receiv'd 
 before your wedding-shoes can be pulled on. Bles- 
 sing on you both ! 
 
 Frank. [Aside.) No man can hide his shame 
 from Heaven that views him ; 
 In vain he flies, whose destiny pursues him. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 SCENE I. ^ Wood. 
 
 Enter Elizabeth Sawyer, gathering sticks. 
 
 Saw. And why on me ? why should the envious 
 world 
 Throw all their scandalous malice upon me ? 
 'Cause I am poor, deform'd, and ignorant. 
 And like a bow buckled and bent together, 
 By some more strong in mischiefs than myself, 
 Must I for that be made a common sink 
 For all the filth and rubbish of mens tongues 
 To fall and run into? Some call me witch, 
 And being ignorant of myself, they go 
 About to teach me how to be one ; urging. 
 That my bad tongue (by their bad usage made so) 
 Forespeaks their cattle', doth bewitch their corn, 
 
 * Forespeaks their cattle.^ To fores peak is used in the sense 
 of predicting and of forbidding ; but of that required in the text,
 
 424 THE WITCH OF EDMOKTOX. ACT II. 
 
 Themselves, their servants, and their babes at nurse.- 
 This they enlbrce upon me ; and in part 
 Make me to credit it. And here comes one 
 Of my chief adversaries. 
 
 Enter Old Bakks. 
 
 Banks. Out ! out upon thee, witch ! 
 Saw. Dost call nie witch ? 
 
 Banks. I do, witch, 1 do : and worse 1 would, 
 knew I a name more hateful. What makest thou 
 upon my ground. 
 
 Saw. Gathering a few rotten sticks to warm me. 
 banks. Down with them when 1 bid thee, quick- 
 ly ; I'll make thy hones rattle in thy skin else ! 
 Saw. You won't, churl, cut-throat, miser ! there 
 they be. 
 'Would they stuck 'cross thy throat, thy bowels, 
 
 thv maw, 
 Thy midrifi! 
 
 Banks. Say*st thou me so? Hag, out of my 
 
 ground ! \^ Beats her. 
 
 Saw. Dost strike me slave, curmudgeon ! Now 
 
 thy bones ache. 
 
 Thy joints cramp, and convulsions stretch and 
 
 crack 
 Thy sinews ! 
 
 Banks. Cursing, thou hag ? take that, and that. 
 
 [^Btats her and exit. 
 Saw. Strike I do, and withered may that hand 
 and arm 
 Whose blows have lam*d me, drop Irom the rotten 
 
 trunk ! 
 Abuse me ! beat me ! call me hag and witch I 
 What is the name? where, and by whatart learn'd: 
 
 I cannot |)roducc another instance. It eyidently means to be-, 
 witch in some way or other.
 
 SCENE I. THE WITCH OF EDMONTON. 425 
 
 What spells, what charms or invocations, 
 May the thing calTd familiar be purchas'd? 
 
 JEnter Cuddy Banks, with four of his companions. 
 
 Cud\ A new head for the tabor, and silver tip- 
 ping for the pipe : remember that, and forget not 
 five leash * of new bells. 
 
 \. Comp. Double bells: Crooked-Lane, ye shall 
 have *em straight in Crooked-Lane: double bells 
 all if it be possible. 
 
 Cud, Double bells? double coxcombs ! Trebles: 
 buy me trebles, all trebles : for our purpose is to be 
 in the altitudes. 
 
 2. Comp. All trebles] not a mean ^ ? 
 
 Cud. Not one. The morris is so cast, we'll have 
 neither mean nor base in our company, fellow 
 Rowland. 
 
 * The present scene, and those which occur farther on in this 
 play in consequence of it, gixe one of the best and most com- 
 plete illustrations of the raorris.dance, which has excited so much 
 disquisition amongst antiquarians, by whom this curious play 
 seems, however, to have been almost entirely overlooked. In 
 Mr Douce's late Dissertation on the Ancient English Morris- 
 dance, it is only once quoted, and that in illustration of the pre- 
 sent passage from the text. Respecting the bells worn by morris, 
 dancers, 1 take the liberty to transcribe from Mr Douce : " The 
 number of bells round each leg of the morris-dancers, amounted 
 from twenty to forty. They had various appellations, as the 
 fore-bell, the second bell, the treble, the base, and the double 
 bell. Sometimes they used trebles only ; but these refinements 
 were of later times ;" referring to the present scene in The 
 Witch of Edmonton. 
 
 * Five leash^~\ That is, five times three. 
 
 ' Not a mean ?] A mean in music is the tenor. So in the 
 Two Gentlemen of Verona: 
 
 Nay, now yon are too flat, 
 
 And mar the concord with too liarsh a descant : 
 
 There wanlcth hut a mean to fill your song. 
 
 Jul. The mean is drown'd with your uundy hose." 
 
 Cuddy Banks, in "his ensuing speech, quibbles in the same man- 
 ner on the musical term base. 
 
 9
 
 -126 THE WITCH OF EDMONTON. ACT ll. 
 
 S. Comp. What? not a counter ] 
 
 Cud. By no means, no hunting counter ; leave 
 that to the Enfield Chace men: all trebles, all in 
 the altitudes. Now for the disposing of parts in 
 the morris, little or no labour will serve. . 
 
 2. Comp. If you that be minded to follow your 
 leader, know me, (an ancient honour belonging to 
 our house), for a fore-horse, team, and fore-gallant 
 in a morris', my father's stable is not unfurnish'd. 
 
 3. Comp. So much for the fore-horse: but how 
 for a good hobby-horse ? 
 
 Cud. For'a hobby-horse? Let me see an alma- 
 nack. Midsummer-moon, let me see ye. When 
 the moon's in the full, then wit's in the wane. No 
 more. Use your best skill. Your morris will suf- 
 fer an eclipse. 
 
 1. Comp. An eclipse? 
 Cud. A strange one. 
 
 2. Comp. Strange? 
 
 Cud. Yes, and most sudden. Remember the 
 fore-gallant, and forget the hobby-horse ! The 
 whole body of your morris will be darkened. 
 There be of us but 'tis no matter : forget the hob- 
 by-horse ! 
 
 1. Comp. Cuddy Banks, have you forgot since 
 he paced it from linfield Chace to Edmonton? 
 Cuddy, honest Cuddy, cast thy stuff. 
 
 Cud. Suffer may ye all ! It shall be known, I 
 can take my ease as well as another man. Seek 
 your hobl>y-horse where you can get him. 
 
 1. Comp. Cuddy, honest Cuddy, we confess, 
 and are sorry for our neglect. 
 
 * For a fore-horse, team, and fore-gallant in a morris.'] I 
 hare not met with any mention of the<c characlers in the morris, 
 dance. Probably new fashions wcrr introduced into that game, 
 a well as in other things, which require variations to keep up 
 t^eir popularity.
 
 SCENE I. THE WITCH OF EDMONTON. 4527 
 
 2. Comp. The old horse shall have a new bridle. 
 
 3. Comp. The caparisons new painted. 
 
 4. Comp, The tail repair'd. 
 
 1. Comp. The snaffle and the bosses new saf- 
 froned o*er. 
 
 1. Comp. Kind, 
 *i. Comp. Honest, 
 
 3. Comp. Loving, ingenious 
 
 4. Comp. Affable, Cuddy. 
 
 Cud. To shew 1 am not flint, but affable, as you 
 say, very well stuft, a kind of warm dough or puff- 
 paste, 1 relent, 1 connive, most affable Jack. Let 
 the hobby-horse provide a strong back, he shall not 
 want a belly when 1 am on him. But uds me, 
 mother Sawyer ! 
 
 1. Comp. The old witch of Edmonton. If our 
 mirth be not crossM 
 
 2. Comp. Bless us. Cuddy, and let her curse her 
 t'other eye out. What dost now .' 
 
 Cud. " Ungirt, unblest,'* says the proverb. But 
 my girdle shall serve a riding knit : and a fig for all 
 the witches in Christendom ! What would'st thou? 
 
 \. Comp. The devil cannot abide to be crossed. 
 
 2. Comp. And scorns to come at any man's 
 whistle. 
 
 3. Comp. Away ! 
 
 4. Comp. With the witch! 
 
 All. Away with the witch of Edmonton ! 
 
 [Exeunt making strange postures. 
 Saw. Still vex'd! still tortur'd ? That curmud- 
 geon Banks 
 Is ground of all my scandal. I am shunn'd 
 And hated like a sickness; made a scorn 
 To all degrees and sexes. I have heard old bel- 
 dams 
 Talk of familiars in the shape of mice, 
 Rats, ferrets, weasels, and I wot not what.
 
 498 THE WITCH OF EDMONTON. ACT H. 
 
 That have appear'dj and suck'd, some say, their 
 
 blood : 
 But by what means they came acquainted with 
 
 them, 
 I am now ignorant. 'Would some pow'r, good or 
 
 bad, 
 Instruct me which way I might be reveng'd 
 Upon this churl, I'd go out ot myself", 
 And give this fury leave to dwell within 
 This ruin'd cottage, ready to fail with age ; 
 Abjure all goodness ; be at hate with prayer; 
 And study curses, imprecations, 
 Blasphemous speeches, oaths, detested oaths, 
 Or any thing that's ill; so 1 might work 
 Revenge upon this miser, this black cur. 
 That barks, and bites, and sucks the very blood 
 Of me, and of my credit. 'Tis all one. 
 To be a witch as to be counted one. 
 Vengeance, shame, ruin light upon that canker 1 
 
 Enter a Spirit in the shape of a black Dog ' . 
 
 Do^. Ho! have I found thee cursiner? Now 
 thou art 
 Mine own. 
 
 ' Enter a Spirtt in the shape of a black Dog.'] This was a fa- 
 Tourite difigubo uf the dovil, in his intercourse with witches. 
 Elizabeth Southern, alias Demdike, one of the l^neashirc witch- 
 es, *ho were so notorious in th, reign of James I. and whose 
 pcpniarity is still remaining in the usual conijiiiment paid to the 
 women of that county, confessed that, " upon a Sabboth-day in 
 the morning, this examinate having a iitle child upon her knee, 
 and she being in a slumber, the sayd spirit appi<ared to her in the 
 likenes of a brow no dogg, forcing himself to her knee, to get 
 blood under her left arm : and she being without any apparcll, 
 saving her smocke, the said dcvill did get blood under her left 
 arm." Again, in the evidence of Jennet Device against her bro- 
 ther, she confesses, that '' there appeared unto him, in tlie exa- 
 minate's mother's house, a black dogt'e, which her said brother 
 called Dandy." The Wonderful DiscoTerie of Witches in the 
 Countic of l^ancastcr, 161^5, r/pt/c/ Somers's Tracts, 1810,111.
 
 SCENE I. THf: WITCH OF EDMONTON. 429 
 
 Saw. Thine? what art th )U I 
 
 Dog. lie thou hast so often 
 
 Importun'd to appear to thee, the devil. 
 
 Saw. Bless me ! the devil I 
 
 Dog. Come, do not fear, I love thee much too 
 well 
 To hurt or fright thee. If I seem terrible, 
 It is to such as hate me. I have found 
 Thy love unfeign'd; have seen and pitied 
 Thy open wrongs, and come, out of my love, 
 To give thee just revenge against thy foes. 
 
 Saw. May I believe thee? 
 
 Dog. To confirm' t, command me 
 
 Do any mischief unto man or beast, 
 And I'll effect it, on condition 
 That uncompell'd thou make a deed of gift 
 Of soul and body to me. 
 
 Saw. Out, alas 1 
 
 My soul and body ? 
 
 Dog. And that instantly, 
 
 And seal it with thy blood: if thou deniest, 
 I'll tear thy body in a thousand pieces. 
 
 Saw. I know not where to seek relief: but shall I, 
 
 p. 101, 110. It is difficult to conceive how the actor, who per- 
 sonated the infernal black dog, was disguised. The part must 
 certainly have been given to a boy : but it must have required 
 the full belief in witchcraft among the spectators, to have beheld 
 the scene without laughter. The following quotation, however, 
 makes it not improbable, that the fictitious dog was not forced to 
 go upon four legs, but that he was allowed to emphy his usual 
 erect manner of walking. In the evidence given against Jennet 
 Bicrley, Grace Sowerbutts, a girl of fourteen years, says, *' that 
 upon Saturday, being the fourth of Aprill, shec, this exami- 
 nate going towards Salmesbury bote, to meete her mother coming 
 from Preston, shee saw this Jennet Bierley, who met this exami- 
 nate at a place called the Two Brigges, first in her owne shape, 
 and afterwards in the likenesse of a black dogge zcith tzeo leggesj'''' 
 ut fiupra, p. 136.
 
 430 THE WITCH OF EDMONTON. ACT II. 
 
 After such covenants seal'd, see full revenge 
 On all that wrong me I 
 
 Dog. Ha, ha! silly woman! 
 
 The devil is no liar to such as he loves. 
 Did'st ever know or hear the devil a liar 
 To such as he affects! 
 
 Saw. Then' 1 am thine ; at least so much of me, 
 As 1 can call mine own. 
 
 Dog. Equivocations? 
 Art mine or no? speak, or Til tear 
 
 Saw. All thine. 
 
 Dog. Seal't with thy blood. 
 
 [//c sucks her arm. Thunder and light' 
 ning. 
 
 See, now I dare call thee mine ! 
 For proof, command me; instantly 1*11 run. 
 To any mischief; goodness can I none. 
 
 Saw. And 1 desire as little. There's an old churl, 
 One Banks 
 
 Dog. That wronged thee: he lam'd thee, call'd 
 thee witch. 
 
 Saw. The same : first upon him I'll be reveng'd. 
 
 Dog. Thou shah : Do but name how ? 
 
 Saw. Go, touch his life. 
 
 Dog. 1 cannot. 
 
 Saw. Hast thou not vow'd ? Go, kill the slave ! 
 
 Dog. 1 won not. 
 
 Saw. I cancel then my gift. 
 
 Dog. Ha, ha ! 
 
 Saw. Dost laugh? 
 
 Why wilt not kill him. 
 
 Dog. Fool! because I cannot. 
 
 Tho* we have power, know, 'tis circumscrib'd, 
 And tied in limits : tho* he be curs'd to thee, 
 Yet of himself he's loving to the world, 
 
 ' f^en.'] So the quarto reads.
 
 SCENE I. THE WITCH OF EDMONTON. 431 
 
 And charitable to the poor. Now men, that. 
 As he, love goodness, tho' in smallest measure, 
 Live without compass of our reach. His cattle 
 And corn I'll kill and mildew : but his life, 
 (Until 1 take him, as 1 late found thee. 
 Cursing and swearing), 1 have no pow'r to touch. 
 
 Saw. Work on his corn and cattle then. 
 
 >og\ 1 shall. 
 
 The witch of Edmonton shall see his fall, 
 If she at least put credit in my power. 
 And in mine only; make orisons to me, 
 And none but me. 
 
 Saw. Saj'^ how, and in what manner. 
 
 Dog. /*// tell thee : when thou wishest ill. 
 
 Corn, man, or beast would' st spoil or kill^ 
 
 Turn thy back against the sun^. 
 
 And mumble this short orison : 
 
 " If thou to death or shame pursue *ei, 
 
 Sarictibicetur nomen tuum. "* 
 
 Saw. " If thou to death or shame pursue 'em, 
 Sanctibicetur nomen tuum." 
 
 Dog. Perfect. Farewell ! Our first-made pro- 
 mises 
 We'll put in execution against Banks. [^Exif. 
 
 Saw. " Contaminetur Homen tuum.'* I'm an ex- 
 pert scholar ; 
 Speak Latin, or I know not well what language, 
 As well as the best of 'em. But who comes here? 
 
 * Turn thy back against the sun."] The practice of turning 
 towards the rising sun, and of erecting the altar at the east-end 
 of the church, was, it seems, exactly reversed when the prayer 
 was addressed to the devil. 
 
 * The corrupt Latin, which occurs in this play, has not been 
 altered, as it may have been purposely put in the mouth of the 
 devil and pf an ignorant old woman.
 
 432 THE WITCU OF EDMONTON. ACT II. 
 
 Enter Cuddy Banks. 
 
 The son of my worst foe. " To death pursue *em, 
 Et sanctahicetur nomen luum.*' 
 
 Cud. What's that she mumbles? the devil's pa- 
 ternoster? 'Would it were else. Mother Sawyer, 
 good-morrow. 
 
 Saiv. Ill-morrow to thee, and all the world that 
 flout 
 A poor old woman. *' To death pursue *em, 
 And sanctahacetur nomen tuum." 
 
 Cud. Nay, good gammer Sawyer, whate'er it 
 pleases my father to call you, 1 know you are 
 
 Sate. A witch. 
 
 Cud. A witch ? 'Would you were else, i'faith! 
 
 Saw. Your father knows I am by this. 
 
 Cud. I would he did. 
 
 Saw. And so in time may you. 
 
 Cud. I would I mi2:ht else. But witch or no 
 witch, you are a motherly woman : and tho' my 
 father be a kind of God-bless-us, as they say, I 
 have an earnest suit to you ; and if you'll be so 
 kind to ka me one good turn, I'll be so courteous 
 to kob you another'. 
 
 Saw. What's that? to spurn, beat me, and call 
 me witch. 
 As your kind father doth ? 
 
 Cud. My father? I am asham'd to own him. If 
 he has hurt the head of thy credit, there's money 
 to buy thee a plaistcr ; [gives money] and a small 
 courtesy I would require at thy hands. 
 
 Saw. You seem a good young man, and [anidel^ 
 I must dissemble, 
 
 * Ka me one good turn^ IHl kob you another.'] Do mc 
 
 otie good turn, and I will return it with another. The proverb is 
 the same as ka me, ka thco, which occurs in Eastward. Iloe, in 
 Barry's Ram.Allcy, and in Massinger's City Madaip.
 
 SCENE I. THE WITCH OF EDMONTON. 433 
 
 The better to accomplish my revenge, 
 
 But for this silver, what would'st thou have me do? 
 
 Bewitch thee? 
 
 Cud. No, by no means ; I am bewitchM already. 
 I would have thee so good as to unwitch me, or 
 witch another with me for company. 
 
 Saw. I understand thee not. Be plain, my son. 
 
 Cud. As a pike-staff, mother. You know Kate 
 Carter ? 
 
 Saw. The wealthy yeoman's daughter ? what of 
 her? 
 
 Cud. That same party has bewitch'd me. 
 
 Saw. Bewitched thee ! 
 
 Cud. Bewitch'd me, hisce auribus. I saw a little 
 devil fly out of her eye like a burbolt, which sticks 
 at this hour up to the lieathers in my heart. Now, 
 my request is, to send one of thy what-d'ye-call- 
 'ems, either to pluck that out, or stick another as 
 fast in her's. Do, and here's my hand : 1 am thine 
 for three lives. 
 
 Saw. We shall have sport. [aside.~\ Thou art in 
 love with her? 
 
 Cud. Up to the very hilts, mother. 
 
 Saw. And thou would'st have me make her love 
 thee too ? 
 
 Cud. I think she'll prove a witch in earnest. 
 [aside.'] Yes, I could find in my heart to strike 
 her three-quarters deep in love with me too. 
 
 Saw. But dost thou think that 1 can do't, and I 
 alone ? . 
 
 Cud. Truly, mother witch, I do verily believe 
 so : and, when 1 see it done, I shall be half per- 
 suaded so too. 
 
 Saw. It is enough. What art can do, be sure of. 
 Turn to the west, and whatsoe'er thou hearest 
 Or seest, stand silent, and be not airaid. 
 
 [She stamps on the ground ; the Dog ap- 
 pears^ and fawns, and leaps upon her. 
 
 VOL. 11. E e
 
 434- THE WITCH OF EDMONTON. ACT IT. 
 
 Cud. Afraid, mother witch ? Turn my face to 
 the west? 1 said 1 should always have a back- 
 friend of her; and now it's out. An her httle de- 
 vil should be hungry, come sneaking behind me, 
 like a cowardly catchpole, and clap his talons on 
 my haunches ' Tis woundy cold sure. I dudder 
 and shake like an aspen leaf every joint of me. 
 
 Saw. " To scandal and disgrace pursue 'em, 
 
 Et sanctabicetur 7iomen tuum." \_Exit Dog. 
 How now, my son, how is't? 
 
 Cud, Scarce in a clean life, mother witch. But 
 did your goblin and you spout Latin together? 
 
 Saw. A kind of charm I work by. Didst thou 
 hear me ? 
 
 Cud. 1 heard, I know not the devil what, mum- 
 ble in a scurvy base tone, like a drum that had 
 taken cold in the head the last muster. Very com- 
 fortable words : what were they ? and who taught 
 them you ? 
 
 Saw. A great learned man. 
 
 Cud. Learned man ? Learned devil it was as 
 soon. But what? What comfortable news about 
 the party ? 
 
 Saw. Who? Kate Carter? I'll tell thee : Thou 
 know'st the stile at the west end of thy father's 
 pease-field; be there to-morrow night, alter sunset; 
 and the first live thing thou seest, be sure to fol- 
 low, and that shall bring thee to thy love. 
 
 Cud. In the pease-field ? Has she a mind to cod- 
 lings already ? The first living thing 1 meet, you 
 say, shall bring me to her? 
 
 Saw. To a sight of her, I mean. She will seem 
 wantonly coy, and flee thee : but follow her close 
 and boldly. Do but embrace her in thy arms once, 
 and she is thine own. 
 
 Cud. " At the stile, at the west-end of my fa- 
 ther's pease-land, the first live thing I see, follow
 
 SCENE II. THE WITCH OF EDMONTON. - 435 
 
 and embrace her, and she shall be thine/* Nay, 
 an I come to embracing once, she shall be mine : 
 ril go near to make an eaglet else*. [^Exit, 
 
 Saw, A ball well bandied : now the set's half 
 won*: 
 The father's wrongs Til wreak upon the son. 
 
 [^Exit. 
 
 SCENE II. Carter'5 House, 
 
 Enter Carter, Warbeck, and Somerton. 
 
 Car. How now, gentlemen, cloudy! I know, 
 master Warbeck, you are in a fog about my daugh- 
 ter's marriage. 
 
 War. And can you blame me, sir! 
 
 Car. Nor you me justly. Wedding and hanging 
 are tied up both in a proverb; and destiny is the 
 juggler that unties the knot. My hope is, you are 
 reserved to a richer fortune than my poor daugh- 
 ter. 
 
 War. However, your promise. 
 
 Car. Is a kind of debt, 1 confess it. 
 
 War. Which honest men should pay. 
 
 Car. Yet some gentlemen break in that point, 
 now and then, by your leave, sir. 
 
 So7n. I confess thou hast had a little wrong in 
 the wench : but patience is the only salve to cure 
 it. Since Thorney has won the wench, he has most 
 reason to wear her. 
 
 ' I'll go near to make at eaglet else."] So the old copy reads. 
 I do not perfectly understand the correction in the text ; but the 
 general sense is very easy, and deserves no explanation. 
 
 * A ball well bandied : nozo the sef's half icon.] A metaphor 
 from tennis.
 
 436 THE WITCH OF EDMONTON. ACT II. 
 
 War. Love in this kind admits no reason to wear 
 her'. 
 
 Car. Then Love's a fool, and what wise man will 
 take exception ? 
 
 Som. Come, frolick, Ned ! Were every man 
 master of his own fortune. Fate might pick straws, 
 and Destiny go a wool-gathering. 
 
 IVar. You hold your's in a string though. 'Tis 
 well : but if there beany equity, look thou to meet 
 the like usage ere long. 
 
 .Som. In my love to her sister Katherine? In- 
 deed, they are a pair of arrows drawn out of one 
 quiver, and should fly at an even length ; if she 
 do run after her sister 
 
 fVar. Look for the same mercy at my hands, as 
 I have received at thine. 
 
 .Sow. She'll keep a surer compass. I have too 
 strong a confidence to mistrust her. 
 
 War. And that confidence is a wind, that has 
 blown many a married man ashore at cuckold's ha- 
 ven *, 1 can tell you : 1 wish your's more prospe- 
 rous though. 
 
 Car. Whate'er you wish, 1*11 master my promise 
 to him. 
 
 War, Yes, as you did to me. 
 
 Car: No more of that if you love me. But for 
 the m6re assurance, the next offered occasion shall 
 consummate the marriage : and that once seal'd 
 
 Som. Leave the manage of the rest to my care. 
 
 he has most reason to zcear her. 
 
 War. Love in this kind admits to reason no wear her^ Even 
 with the flight and obvious correction in the text, the sense of 
 Warbeck's rejoinder is Tcry obscure, and jierhaps corrupt. 
 
 Cuckold's haven.'] See Slitgut's soliloquy at the opening of 
 the fourth act of Lastward-Hoe. Heed's Old Plays, Vol. IV. 
 p. 256.
 
 SCENE II. THE WITCH OF EDMONTON. 437 
 
 Enter Frank Thorney and Susax. 
 
 But see the bridogroom and bride comes : the new 
 pair ot" Sheffield knives, fitted both to one sheath. 
 
 JFar. But the sheath might have been better fit- 
 ted, it somebody had their due. But 
 
 Car. No harsh language, it' thou lovest me. 
 Frank Thorney has done 
 
 Jiar. No more than I, or thou, or any man, 
 things so standing, would have attempted. 
 
 Soin. Good-morrow, master bridegroom. 
 
 War. Come, give thee joy. May'st thou live 
 long and happy 
 In thy fair choice. 
 
 Frank. 1 thank ye, gentlemen. Kind master War- 
 beck, 
 I find you loving. 
 
 War. Thorney, that creature, much good do 
 thee with her ! 
 Virtue and beauty hold fair mixture in her ; 
 She's rich no doubt in both. Yet were she fairer, 
 Thou art right worthy of her. Love her, Thorney ; 
 'Tis nobleness in thee, in her but duty. 
 The match is fair and equal ; the success 
 I leave to censure. Farewell, mistress bride. 
 Till new elected, thy old scorn deride'. [^Exit. 
 
 Sum. Good master Thorney 
 
 Car. Nay, you shall not part till you sec the bar- 
 rels run a-tilt, gentlemen. l_E.vit with Somerton. 
 
 Sus. Why change you your face, sweetheart ? 
 
 Frank. Who, l? For nothing. 
 
 Sus. Dear, say not so : a spirit of your constancy 
 
 * Till now elected, thy old scorn deride."^ The corrcctioti in 
 the text seems necessary to preserve the antithesis, but the mean- 
 ing is at best Tcrj obscure.
 
 438 THE WITCH OF EDMONTON. ACT II. 
 
 Cannot endure this change for nothing. Tve ob- 
 served 
 Strange variations in you. 
 
 Frank. In me? 
 
 Sus. In you, sir. 
 
 Awake, you seem to dream, and in your sleep 
 You utter sudden and distracted accents. 
 Like one at enmity with peace. Dear loving hus- 
 band, 
 If I may dare to challenge any interest 
 In you, give me thee fhlly ' : you may trust 
 My breast as safely as your own. 
 
 Frank. With what? 
 
 You half amaze me ; pr*y thee 
 
 Sus. Come, you shall not, 
 
 Indeed you shall not shut me from partaking 
 The least dislike that grieves you. I'm all your's. 
 
 Frank. And 1 all thine. 
 
 Sus. You are not, if you keep 
 
 The least grief from me : but 1 find the cause, 
 It grew from me. 
 
 Frank. From you ? 
 
 Sus. From some distaste 
 
 In me or my behaviour : you're not kind 
 In the concealment. 'Las, sir, 1 am young, 
 Silly and plain ; more strange to those contents 
 A wife should offer. Say but in what I fail, 
 1*11 study satisfaction. 
 
 Frank. Come ; in nothing. 
 
 Sivs. 1 know I do : knew I as well in what, 
 You should not long be sullen. Pr'ythee, love, 
 If 1 have been immodest or too bold, 
 
 ^ Give tne the /w%.] Another slight variation from this, 
 which is the reading of the quarto, was required here. The 
 text, though somewhat stifTj is the language of the age.
 
 SCENE II. THE WITCH OF EDMONTON. 439 
 
 Speak't in a frown ; if peevishly too nice, 
 Shew't in a smile. Thy liking is a glass 
 By which I'll habit my behaviour. 
 
 Frank. Wherefore 
 
 Dost weep now ? 
 
 Siis. You, sweet, have the power 
 
 To make me passionate as an April-day '. 
 Now smile, then weep ; now pale, then crimson 
 
 red. 
 You are the powerful moon of my blood's sea, 
 To make it ebb or flow into my face, 
 As your looks change. 
 
 Frank. Change thy conceit, I pr'ythee: 
 
 Thou'rt all perfection : Diana herself 
 Swells in thy thoughts and moderates thy beauty. 
 Within thy left eye amorous Cupid sits 
 Feathering love-shafts, whose golden heads he dip- 
 ped 
 In thy chaste breast ; in the other lies 
 Blushing Adonis scarfed in modesties ; 
 And still as wanton Cupid blows love-fires, 
 Adonis quenches out unchaste desires : 
 And from these two I briefly do imply 
 A perfect emblem of thy modesty. 
 Then, pr'ythee dear, maintain no more dispute, 
 For where thou speak*st, it's fit all tongues be 
 mute. 
 
 Sus. Come, come ; these golden strings of flat- 
 tery 
 Shall not tie up my speech, sir ; I must know 
 The ground of your disturbance. 
 
 Frank, Then look here ; 
 
 ' Passionate as an April-day.'] Passionate is not used here in 
 the usual sense of the ^vord, but signifies subject to grief, disposed 
 to weep. So in Beaumont and Fletcher's Wit without Money : 
 
 : " Thou art paisionatey 
 
 Hast been bronght up with girb."
 
 440 THE WITCH OF EDMONTON. ACT II. 
 
 For here, here is the fen in which this hydra 
 Of discontent grows rank. 
 
 Su^. Heaven shield it ! Where ! 
 
 Frank. In mine own bosom : here the cause has 
 root; 
 The poisoned leeches twist about my heart, 
 And will, 1 hope, confound me. 
 
 Sus. You speak riddles. 
 
 Frank. Take't plainly then : 'twas told me by a 
 woman 
 Known and approv'd in palmestry, 
 I should have two wives. 
 
 Sus. Two wives I Sir, I take it 
 
 Exceeding likely. But let not conceit hurt you. 
 You are afraid to bury me ? 
 
 Frank. No, no, my Winnifrede. 
 
 Sus. How say you ? Winnitrede ? you forget 
 me. 
 
 Frank. No, I forget myself, Susan. 
 
 Sus. In what? 
 
 Frank. Talking of wives, I pretend Winnifrede, 
 A maid that at my mother's waited on me 
 Before thyself. 
 
 Sits. 1 hope, sir, she may live 
 
 To take my place. But why should all this move 
 you? 
 
 Frank. The poor girl, she has't before thee, 
 And that's the fiend torments me. 
 
 Sus. Yet why should this 
 
 Raise mutiny within you ? Such presages 
 Proves often false : or say it should be true ? 
 
 Frank. That I should have another wife ? 
 
 Sus. Yes, many ; 
 
 If they be good, the better. 
 
 Frank. Never any equal 
 
 To thee in goodness. 
 
 Sus, Sir, I could wish I were
 
 SCENE II. THE WITCH OF EDMONTON. 441 
 
 Much better for you ; yet if I knew your fate 
 Ordain'd you for another, I could wish 
 (So well 1 love you, and your hopeful pleasure) 
 Me in my grave, and my poor virtues added 
 To my successor. 
 
 Frank. Pr'ythee, pr'ythee talk not 
 
 Of death or graves ; thou art so rare a goodness, 
 As Death would rather put itself to death, 
 Than murther thee. But we, as all things else, 
 Are mutable and changing. 
 
 Sus. Yet you still move 
 
 In your first sphere of discontent. Sweet, chase 
 Those clouds of sorrow, and shine clearly on me. 
 
 Frank. At my return I will. 
 
 Sus. Return ? ah me ! 
 
 Will you then leave me ? 
 
 Frank. For a time I must : 
 
 But how ? as birds their young, or loving bees^ 
 Their hives, to fetch home richer dainties. 
 
 Sus. Leave me ? 
 
 Now has my fear met its effect. You shall not. 
 Cost it my life, you shall not. 
 
 Frank. Why? your reason. 
 
 Sus. Like to the lapwing have you all this while, 
 With your false love, deluded me ; pretending 
 Counterfeit senses for your discontent. 
 And now at last it is by chance stole from you. 
 
 Frank. What ? what by chance \ 
 
 Sus. Your preappointed meeting 
 
 Of single combat with young Warbeck. 
 
 Frank. Ha ! 
 
 Sus. Even so : dissemble not ; 'tis too apparent. 
 Then in his look 1 read it : deny it not ; 
 I see't apparent : cost it my undoing. 
 And unto that my life, I will not leave you. 
 
 FrawAr. Not.until then?
 
 442 THE WITCH OF EDMONTON. ACT III. 
 
 Sus. Till he and you be friends. 
 
 Was this your cunning ? and then flam me off' 
 With an old witch, two wives, and WinnitVede? 
 You're not so kind indeed as I imagin'd. 
 
 Frank. And you more fond by far than I expect- 
 ed : 
 It is a virtue that attends thy kind. 
 But of our business within ; and by this kiss 
 I'll anger thee no more : 'troth, chuck, I will not. 
 
 Sus. You shall have no just cause. 
 
 Frank. Dear Sue, 1 will not. [^Exeimt. 
 
 ACT III. 
 SCENE l.A Field. 
 
 Enter Cuddy Banks and his Companions. 
 
 1. Camp. Nay, Cuddy, do not leave us now : if 
 we part all this night, we shall not meet before 
 day. 
 
 2. Comp. I pr'ythee Banks, let's keep together 
 now. 
 
 Cud. If you were wise, a word would serve : but 
 as you are, I must be forc'd to tell you again : I 
 have a little private business, an houf's work ; it 
 may prove but an half hour's, as luck may serve ; 
 and then 1 take horse, and along with you. Have 
 we e'er a witch in the morris \ 
 
 1 . Comp, No, no ; no woman's part, but Maid- 
 Marian and the hobby-horse. 
 
 Cud. I'll have a witch : 1 love a witch. 
 
 Flam mc off. ] A cant verb, sigoify ing, to deceive with,a 
 lie. It is still in use.
 
 SCENE I. THE WITCH OF EDMONTON. 443 
 
 1. Comp. 'Faith, witches themselves are so com- 
 mon now-a-days ', that the counterfeit will not be 
 regarded. They say we have three or four in Ed- 
 monton, besides mother Sawyer. 
 
 2. Comp. 1 would she would dance her part with 
 us. 
 
 3. Comp, So w^ould not I : for if she comes, the 
 devil and all comes along with her. 
 
 Cud. Well, rU have a witch : I have lovM a 
 witch ever since I played at cherrypit. Leave me, 
 and get my horse dress'd : give him oats ; but wa- 
 ter him not till 1 come. Whither do we foot it 
 first ? 
 
 2. Comp. To Sir Arthur Clarington's first ; then 
 whither thou wilt. 
 
 Cud. Well, 1 am content; but we must up to 
 Carter's, the rich yeoman. 1 must be seen on hob- 
 by-horse there. 
 
 1. Comp. Oh, Isftiell him now. Y\\ lay my ears 
 Banks is in love, and that's the reason he would 
 walk melancholy by himself. 
 
 \^Half aside to 2. Comp. 
 
 Cud. Hah ! who was that said 1 was in love \ 
 
 1. Comp. Not I. 
 
 2. Comp. Not I. 
 
 Cud. Go to : no more of that. When I under- 
 stand what you speak, I know what you say : be- 
 lieve that. 
 
 1. Comp. Well, 'twas I; I'll not deny it: I meant 
 no hurt in't. 1 have seen you walk up to Carter's 
 of Chessum. Banks, were not you there last 
 Shrove-tide ? 
 
 ^ Witches themselves are so common nozo-a-dat/s.'] This is not 
 said at random, for in the days of the sapient James I., witch- 
 craft, by his own royal example, was become the subject of 
 many publications,- and supposed witches were hunted down 
 without mercy in erery quarter of the kingdom.
 
 444 THE WITCH OF EDMONTON. ACT III. 
 
 Cud. Yes, I was ten days together there the last 
 Shrovetide. 
 
 S. Comp. Plow could that be, when there are 
 but seven days in the week I 
 
 Cud. Pr'ytliee peace ! 1 reckon stila nova as a 
 traveller: thou understand'st as a fresh- water tar- 
 mer, that never savv*st a week beyond sea. Ask 
 any soldier that ever received his pay but in the 
 Low Countries, and he'll tell thee there are eight 
 days in the week there, hard by. How dost thou 
 think they rise in High Germany, Italy, and those 
 remote places. 
 
 3. Comp. Aye, but simply there are but seven 
 days in the week yet. 
 
 Cud. No, simply as thou understand'st. Pr'y- 
 thee look but in the lover's almanack : when he has 
 been three days absent, " Oh, says he, 1 have not 
 seen my love these seven years :" there's a long- 
 cut ! When he comes to her again and eujbraces 
 her, " Oh, says he, now methmks i am in lieaven ;'* 
 and that's a pretty step : he that can get up to 
 Heaven in ten days, need not repent his journey : 
 you may ride a hundred days in a caroch, and be 
 farther oft' than when you set forth. But I pray 
 you, good morris-mates, now leave me. 1 will be 
 with you by midnight. 
 
 1. Comp. Well, since he will be alone, we'll back 
 again, and trouble him no more. 
 
 All. But remember, Banks. 
 
 Cud. The hobby-horse shall be remembered. But 
 hark you : get Poldavis, the barber's boy, for the 
 witch ; because he can show his art better than an- 
 other. [Exeunt. 
 Well, now to my walk. I am near the place 
 where 1 should meet 1 know not what. Say 1 
 meet a thief, I must follow him, if to the gallows. 
 Say I meet a horse, or hare, or hound, stdl 1 must
 
 SCENE I. THE WITCH OF EDMONTON. 445 
 
 follow : some slow-pac'd beast, I hope : yet love 
 is full of lightness in the heaviest lovers. Ha ! my 
 guide is come. 
 
 Enter the Spirit in the shape of a Dog. 
 
 A water-dog ? I am thy first man, sculler. I go 
 with thee ; ply no other but myself. Away with 
 the boat ! land me but at Katherine's Dock, my 
 sweet Katherine's Dock, and I'll be a fare to 
 thee. That way ? nay, which way thou wilt ; 
 thou'st the way better than I. Fine gentle cur it 
 is, and well brought up, 1 warrant him. We go a- 
 ducking, spaniel : thou shalt fetch me the ducks, 
 pretty kind rascal. 
 
 Enter another Spirit in the shape of Katherine, 
 with a vizard^ which he takes off. 
 
 Spir. Thus throw I off mine own essential hor- 
 ror. 
 And take the shape of a sweet lovely maid 
 Whom this fool dotes on. We can meet his folly, 
 But from his virtues must be run-aways. 
 We'll sport with him ; but when we reckoning call, 
 We know where to receive : th' witch pays for all. 
 
 \_Dog barks. 
 
 Cud. Aye? is that the watchword? She's come. 
 Well, if ever we be married, it shall be at Barking- 
 church, in memory of thee. Now come behind, 
 kind cur. 
 
 And have I met thee, sweet Kate 1 
 I will teach thee to walk so late. 
 
 Oh see, we meet in metre. What ? dost thou trip 
 from me? Oh! that 1 were upon my hobby-horse, 
 I would mount after thee so nimble ! " Stay 
 nymph, stay nymph," sing*d Apollo. Tarry and 
 kiss me ; sweet nymph, stay ! Tarry and kiss me,
 
 446 THE WITCH OF EDMONTON. ACT III. 
 
 sweet. We will to Chessum Street, and then to 
 the house stands in the highway. Nay, by your 
 leave, 1 must embrace you. 
 
 \_Exit after the Spirit. 
 (Within.) Oh, help, help, 1 am drown*d, I am 
 drown* d. 
 
 Re-enter Cuddy Banks itc^. 
 
 Dog. Ha, ha, ha, ha ! 
 
 Cud. This was an ill night to go a-wooing in ; 
 I find it now in Pond's almanack. Thinking to 
 land at Katherine's Dock, 1 was almost at Graves- 
 end. I'll never go to a wrench in the dog-days a- 
 gain : yet *tis cool enough. Had you never a paw 
 in this dog-trick ? A mangy take that black hide 
 of your's ! I'll throw you in at Limehouse, in some 
 tanner's pit or other. 
 
 Dog. Ha, ha, ha, ha ! 
 
 Cud. How now? Who's that laughs at me? 
 Hist to him. (Dog harks.) Peace, peace ! thou 
 didst but thy kind neither. *Twas my own fault. 
 
 Dog. Take heed how thou trustest the devil an- 
 other time. 
 
 Cud. How now \ Who's that speaks ? I hope 
 you have not your reading tongue about you ' \ 
 
 Dog. Yes, 1 can speak. 
 
 Ciid. The devil you can ! You have read vEsop's 
 fables then. I have play'd one of your parts then : 
 the dog that catch'd at the shadow in the water. 
 'Pray you, let me catechize you a little. What 
 might one call your name, dog I 
 
 Dog. My dame calls me Tom. 
 
 * I hope you have not your reading tongue about you. '\ This 
 may possibly be a miserable quibble upon Reading, the most 
 considerable town in Bor^shiro. See Dr Sheridan's Art of Pun- 
 ning.
 
 SCENE I. THE WITCH OF EDMONTON. 447 
 
 Cud. 'Tis well : and she may call me ass: so 
 there's an wholeone betwixt us, Tom-Ass. She said, 
 I should follow you indeed. Well, Tom, give me 
 thy fist : we are friends. You shall be mine ingle: 
 1 love you ; but I pray you let's have no more of 
 these ducking devices. 
 
 Dog. Not, if you love me. Dogs love where 
 they are beloved. Cherish me, and I'll do any 
 thing for thee. 
 
 Cud. Well, you shall have jowls and livers ; I 
 have butchers to my friends that shall bestow *em ; 
 and 1 will keep crusts and bones for you, if you'll 
 be a kind dog, Tom. 
 
 Dog. Any thing : I'll help thee to thy love. 
 Cud. W ilt thou ! That promise shall cost me a 
 brown loaf, tho' 1 steal it out of my father's cup- 
 board. You'll eat stolen goods, Tom, will you not? 
 Dog. Oh, best of all. The sweetest bits those. 
 Cud. You shall not starve, ningle Tom, believe 
 that: if you love fish, 1*11 help you to maids and 
 soles. I'm acquainted with a fishmonger. 
 
 Dog. Maids and soles ? Oh, sweet bits ! ban- 
 queting stuff those. 
 
 Cud. One thing 1 would request you, ningle, as 
 you have play'd the knavish cur with me a little, 
 that you would mingle amongst our morris-dancers 
 in the morning. You can dance? 
 
 Dog. Yes, yes, any thing : I'll be there, but un- 
 seen to any but thyself. Get thee gone before : fear 
 not my presence. I have work to-night : I serve 
 more masters, more dames than one. 
 
 Cud. He can serve Mammon and the devil too. 
 Dog. It shall concern thee, and thy love's pur- 
 chase. There's a gallant rival loves the maid, and 
 likely is to have her. Mark what a mischief, be- 
 fore the morris ends, shall light on him.
 
 4*8 THE WITCH OF EDMONTON. ACT III. 
 
 Cud. Oh, sweet ningle, thy neufe once again. 
 Friends must part for a time. Farewell, with this 
 remembrance : shalt have bread too when we meet 
 again. If ever there were an honest devil, 'twill 
 be the devil of Edmonton ' I see. Farewell Tom. 
 I pr'ythee dog me as soon as thou canst. [Exit. 
 
 Dog. I'll not miss thee, and be merry with thee. 
 
 Those that are joys denied^ must take delight 
 In sins and mischief y *tis the devil's right. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 SCENE U. Another Field. 
 
 Enter Frank Thorney, and Winnifrede in 
 boy*s clothes. 
 
 Frank. Pr'ythee no more ! those tears give nou- 
 rishment 
 To weeds and briars in me, which shortly will 
 O'ergrow and top my head. My shame will sit 
 And cover all that can be seen of me. 
 
 Win. I have not shewn this cheek in company ; 
 Pardon me now : thus singled with yourself. 
 It calls a thousand sorrows round about. 
 Some going before, and some on either side. 
 But infinite behind ; all chain'd together: 
 Your second adulterous marriage leads ; 
 That is the sad eclipse, the effects must follow, 
 As plagues of shame, spite, scorn, and obloquy. 
 
 * If ever there were an honest devily Hvoill be the devil of EiU 
 monlon.~\ This seems to refer to the play of the Devil of Ed- 
 monton, mentioned before in a note to the prologue. Fabet 
 ikj^y towards the conclusion of that play, to Sir Arthur Clare, 
 
 " Smile then upon your daiiiditcr and your son, 
 And let our toil to future ajjes prove, 
 Tbe devil of EdmoDton did good in love."
 
 SCENE I. THE WITCH OF EDMONTON. 449 
 
 Frank. Why, hast thou not left one hour's pa- 
 tience 
 To add to all the rest ? One hour bears us 
 Beyond the reach of all these enemies. 
 Are we not now set forward in the flight, 
 Provided with the dowry of our sin, 
 To keep us in some other nation ? 
 While we together are, we are at home 
 In any place. 
 
 JVin. 'Tis foul ill gotten coin, 
 
 Far worse than usury or extortion. 
 
 Frank. Let my father then make the restitution, 
 Who forc'd me take the bribe : it is his gift 
 And patrimony to me ; so I receive it. 
 He would not bless, nor look a father on me, 
 Until I satisfied his angry will. 
 When 1 was sold, 1 sold myself again 
 (Some knaves have done't in lands, and I in body) 
 For money, and I have the hire. But, sweet, no 
 
 more, 
 *Tis hazard of discovery, our discourse ; 
 And then prevention takes off all our hopes : 
 For only but to take her leave of me. 
 My wife is coming. 
 
 JVin. Who coming? your wife? 
 
 Frank. No, no ; thou art here : the woman I 
 knew 
 Not how to call her now : but after this day 
 She shall be quite forgot, and have no name 
 In my remembrance. See, see ! sJie*s come. 
 
 Enter Susan. 
 
 Go lead the horses to th* hill's top ; there 1*11 meet 
 thee. 
 Sus. Nay, with your favour let him stay a little ; 
 I would part with him too, because he is 
 
 VOL. II. " F f
 
 450 tllE WITCH OF EI>M0S*T0S'. ACT III. 
 
 Ydur sole cottipanion ; and Til begin with him, 
 Reserving you the last. 
 
 Frank. Ay, with all my heart. 
 
 Sus. You may hear if it please you, sir. 
 
 Frank. No, 'tis not fit : 
 
 Some rudiments, 1 conceive, they must be, 
 To overlook my slipp'ry footings. And 60-^ 
 
 Sus. No, intieed, sir. 
 
 Frank. Tush, 1 know it mut be so, 
 
 And it is necessary. On ! but be brief. 
 
 Win. What charge soe'ef you lay upon me, mis- 
 tress, 
 1 shall support it faithfully (being honest) 
 To my best strength. 
 
 Sus. Believe' t shall be no other. I know you welrc 
 Commended to my husband by a noble knight. 
 
 Win. Oh God ! oh, mine eyes. 
 
 Sus. How now ? what ail'st thou lad ? 
 
 Win. Something hit mine eye (it makes it water 
 still). 
 Even as you said, " commended to tny husband.'* 
 Some dort 1 think it was. 1 was, forsooth. 
 Commended to him by Sir Arthur Clarington. 
 
 Sus. W hose servant once my Thorney was him- 
 self. 
 That title, methinks, should make ^X)U almost fel- 
 lows; 
 Or at the least much more than a servant : 
 And I am sure he will respect you so. 
 Your loVe to him tlien needs no spur for me. 
 And what for my sake you will ever do, 
 'Tis fit it should be bought with something more 
 iThirti fair entt^ats. Look here*8 a jewel tor thee, 
 A pretty wanton label for thine ear ; 
 And I would have it hang there, still to whisper 
 These words to thee, " Thou hast my jewel with 
 
 thee." 
 
 9
 
 SCENE I. THE WITCH OP EDMONTON. 451 
 
 It is but earnest of a larger bounty, 
 When thou return'st, with praises of thy service, 
 Which 1 am confident thou wilt deserve. 
 Why, thou art many now besides thyself: 
 Thou may'st be servant, friend, and wite to him : 
 A good wife is them ' all. A friend can play 
 The wife and servant's part, and shift enough ; 
 No less the servant can the friend and wife : 
 'Tis all but sweet society and counsel, 
 Interchanged loves ; yes, and counsel-keeping. 
 
 Frank. Not done yet ? 
 
 Sus. Even now, sir. 
 
 Win. Mistress, believe my vow, your severe eye 
 Were't present to command; your bounteous hand, 
 Were it then by to buy or bribe my service, 
 Shall not make me more dear or near unto him. 
 Than I shall voluntary. I'll be all your charge ; 
 Servant, friend, witie to him. 
 
 Sus. Wilt thou ? 
 
 Now blessings go with thee for't ! Courtesies 
 Shall meet thee coming home. 
 
 Win. 'I^ray you say plainly. 
 
 Mistress, are you jealous of him ? if you be, 
 I'll look to him that way too. 
 
 Sus. Say* St thou so ? 
 
 I would thou hadst a woman's bosom now. 
 We have weak thoughts within us. Alas, 
 There's nothing so strong in us as suspicion : 
 But I dare not, nay, I will not think 
 So hardly of my Thorney. 
 
 Win. Believe it, mistress, 
 
 I'll be no pandar to him ; and if I find 
 Any loose lubrick * 'scapes in him, I'll watch him, 
 
 ' Then^~\ So the original copy reads. 
 
 * Lubrick.'] This is a singular use of the word, as a lub- 
 stantive, for a slip^jcry trick.
 
 452 THE WITCH OF EDMONTON. ACT HI. 
 
 And at my return, 'protest I'll show you all : 
 He hardly shall otl'end without my knowledge. 
 
 Sus. Thine own diligence is that 1 press, 
 And not the curious eye over his faults. 
 Farewell : if I should never see thee more, 
 Take it for ever. 
 
 Frank. Pr'ythee take that along with thee, 
 
 \_Gives his sicord to VVi n n i fre d e. 
 And haste thee to the hill's top : I'll be there in- 
 stantly. [^Exit. 
 Sus. No haste, I pr*ythee ; slowly as thou canst. 
 Pray let him obey me now : *tis happily his last 
 Service to me. 
 My power is e'en a* going out of sight. 
 
 Frank. Why would you delay? we have no other 
 business 
 Now but to part. 
 
 Sus. And will not that, sweet-heart, ask a long 
 time ? 
 Methinks it is the hardest piece of work 
 That e'er 1 took in hand. 
 
 Frank. Fie, fie ! why look, 
 
 ril make it plain and easy to you. Farewell. 
 
 l_Kisses her. 
 Sus. Ah, 'las ! I'm not half perfect in it yet. 
 I must have it read o'er an hundred times. 
 Pray you take some pains, 1 confess my dulness. 
 Frank What a thorn this rose grows on ! Part- 
 ing were sweet ; 
 But what a trouble 'twill be to obtain it ! 
 Come, again and again, farewell. \_Kisses her.^ Yet 
 
 wilt return ? 
 All questions of my journey, my stay, employment, 
 And revisitation, fully I have answered all. 
 There's nothing now behind but nothing. 
 
 Stu. And that nothing 's more hard than any 
 thing, 
 Than all the every things. This request
 
 SCENE I. THE WITCH OF EDMONTON. 453 
 
 Frank. What is*t? 
 
 Sus. That I may bring you thro' one pasture more 
 Up to yon knot of trees : amongst those shadows 
 ril vanish from you, they shall teach me how. 
 
 Frank. Why 'tis granted: come, walk then. 
 
 ^us. ^ay, not too fast : 
 
 They say, slow things have best perfection ; 
 The gentle show'r wets to fertility, 
 The churlish storm may mischief with his bounty ; 
 The baser beasts take strength even from the womb ; 
 But the lord lion's whelp is feeble long. {^Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II. Another Field, with a clump of Trees. 
 
 Enter the Dog. 
 
 Dog. Now for an early mischief and a sudden : 
 The mind's about it now. One touch from me 
 Soon sets the body forward. 
 
 Enter Frank and Susan. 
 
 Frank. Your request 
 
 Is out : yet will you leave me ? 
 
 Sus. What? so churlishly ? 
 
 You'll make me stay for ever. 
 Rather than part with such a sound from you. 
 
 Frank. Why, you almost anger me. -'Pray you 
 be gone. 
 You have no company, and 'tis very early ; 
 Some hurt may betide you homewards. 
 
 Sus, Tush ! I fear none : 
 
 To leave you is the greatest hurt 1 can suffer : 
 Besides, 1 expect your father and mine own, 
 To meet me back, or overtake me with you. 
 They began to stir when I came after you : 
 I know they'll not be long.
 
 454 THE WITCH OF EDMONTON. ACT 111. 
 
 Frank. So, I shall have more trouble. 
 
 [T/ic Dog rubs against him. 
 Thank you for that. 1 hen, I'll ease all at once. 
 *Tis done now : what 1 ne'er thought on. You 
 shall not go back. 
 
 Sus. Why? shall I go along with thee? Sweet 
 music ! 
 
 Frank, is o, to a better place. 
 
 Sus. Any place I : 
 
 Tm there at home, w here thou pleasest to have me. 
 
 Frank. At home? I'll leave you in your last 
 lodging. 
 I must kill you. 
 
 Sus. Oh fine ! you'd fright me from you. 
 
 Frank. You see 1 had no purpose : I'm unarm'd. 
 'Tis this minuti 's decree, and it must be. 
 Look, this will serve your turn. \_Draws a knife. 
 
 Sus, I'll not turn from it 
 
 If you be earnest ', sir. Yet you may tell me 
 W herefore you'll kill me. 
 
 Fratik. Because you are a whore. 
 
 Sus. There's one deep wound already : a whore ? 
 'Twas ever farther from me than the thought 
 Of this black hour. A whore? 
 
 Frank. \es, 1 will prove it. 
 
 And you shall confess it. You are my w hore, 
 No wife of mine. The word admits no second : 
 I was before wedded to another ; have her still. 
 1 do not lay the sin unto your charge, 
 'Tis all mine own. ^ our marriage was my theft ; 
 For 1 espous'd your dowry, and 1 have it : 
 I did not purpose to have added murther ; 
 The devil did not prompt me: till this minute 
 You might have safe returned ; now you cannot. 
 You have dogg'd your own death. [^Stabs her. 
 
 ' Earsff] This is the corrupt reading of the quarto.
 
 SCENE II. THE WITCH OF EDMONTON. 455 
 
 Si4S. And I deserve it. 
 
 I'm glad my fate was so intelligent : 
 'Twas some good spirit's motion. Die? oh, *twas 
 
 time ! 
 How many years might I have slept in sin, 
 Sin of my most hatred too, adultery ! 
 
 Frank. Nay sure 'twas likely that the most was 
 past, 
 For I meant never to return to you 
 After this parting. 
 
 Sus, Why then I thank you more ; 
 
 You have done lovingly, leaving yourself. 
 That you would thus bestow me on another. 
 Thou art my husband, Death ; I embrace thee 
 M^ith all the love I have. Forget the stain 
 Of ipy unwitting sin : and then I come 
 A crystal virgin to thee. My soul's purity 
 Shall, with bold wings, ascend the doors of mercy ; 
 For innocence is ever her companion. 
 
 Frank. Not yet mortal ? 1 would not linger you. 
 Or leave you a tongue to blab. [Stahs her again. 
 
 Stts. Now heaven reward you ne'er the worse for 
 me ! 
 I did not think that death had been so sweet, 
 Nor I so apt to Jove him. I could ne'er die better, 
 Had 1 stay'd forty years for preparation : 
 For I'm in charity with all the world. 
 Let me for once be thine example, heaven ; 
 Do to this man as I, him free forgive, 
 And may he better die, and sweeter live. [^Dies. 
 
 Frank. 'Tis done ; and I am in : once past our 
 height, 
 We scorn the deep'st abyss. This follows now. 
 To heal her wounds by dressing of the weapon. 
 Arms, thighs, hands, any place ; we must not fail, 
 
 [Wounds himself. 
 Light scratches giving such deep ones; the best lean
 
 4:56 THE WITCH OF EDMONTON. ACT III. 
 
 To bind myself to this tree. Now's the storm, 
 Which, if blown o'er, many fair days may follow. 
 
 fThe Dog assists in tying himself to a tree. 
 m fast ; 1 did not think I could 
 Have done so well behind me. How prosperous 
 And effectual mischief sometimes is. Help! help ! 
 Murther, murther, murther ! 
 
 winter Carter and Old Thorney. 
 
 Car. Ha ! whom tolls the bell for ? 
 
 Frank. Oh, oh ! 
 
 Thor. Ah me ! 
 
 The cause appears too soon : my child, my son. 
 
 Car. Susan, girl, child- Not speak to thy father? 
 ha! 
 
 Frank. Oh lend me some assistance to o'ertake 
 This hapless woman. 
 
 Thor. Let us o'ertake the murtTierers. 
 
 Speak whilst thou canst : anon may be too late. 
 I tear tliou hast death's mark upon thee too. 
 
 Frank. 1 know them both ; yet such an oath is 
 pass'd, 
 As pulls damnation up if it be broke ; 
 I dare not name 'em : think what forc'd men do. 
 
 Thor. Keep oath with raurtherers ! that were a 
 conscience 
 To hold the devil in. 
 
 Frank. Nay, Sir, I can describe 'em ; 
 
 Shall show them as familiar as their names. 
 The taller of the two at this time wears 
 His satin doublet white, but crimson lin'd ; 
 Hose of black satin, cloak of scarlet. 
 
 Thor, Warbeck, 
 
 Warbeck, Warbeck ! Do you list to this, sir ? 
 
 Car. Yes, yes, 1 listen you : here's nothing to 
 be heard.
 
 SCENE II. THE WITCH OF EDMONTON. 457 
 
 Frank. The other's, branched velvet' ; black vel- 
 vet lin'd his suit. 
 
 Thor. I have 'em already : Somerton, Somerton. 
 Binal * revenge, all this. Come, sir, the first work 
 Is to pursue the murtherers, when we have 
 Remov'd these mangled bodies hence. 
 
 Car. Sir, take that carcase there, and give me 
 this. rU not own her now ; she's none of mine. 
 Bob me off with a dumb show? No, I'll have lite. 
 This is my son too, and while there's life in him, 
 'tis half mine: take you half that silence for't. 
 When I speak I look to be spoken to : forgetful 
 slut ! 
 
 Thor. Alas! what grief may do now! 
 Look, sir, I'll take this load of sorrow with me. 
 
 Car. Ay, do, and I'll have this. How do you, 
 sir ? 
 
 Frank. O, very ill, sir. 
 
 Car. Yes, I think so ; but 'tis well you can 
 speak yet : There's no music but in sound: sound 
 it must be. 
 
 I have not wept these twenty years before. 
 And that I guess was ere that girl was born: 
 Yet now methinks, if 1 but knew the way, 
 My heart's so full, I could weep night and day. 
 
 [^Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III. Before Sir Arthur's House. 
 
 Enter Sir Arthur Clarington, Warbeck, So- 
 merton, and a Servant. 
 
 Sir Ar. Come, gentlemen, we must all help to 
 grace 
 
 ' Branded velvet r\ Velvet with figures stamped upon it. 
 ^ JBiwo/,] Double. Binary is used still in the same sense.
 
 453 THE WITCH OF EDMONTON. ACT HI. 
 
 The nimble-footed youth of Edmonton, 
 That are so kind to call us up to-day 
 With an high morris. 
 
 War. I could wish it for the best, it were the 
 worst now. Absurdity's, in my opinion, ever the 
 best dancer in a morris. 
 
 Som. I could rather sleep than see 'em. 
 
 Sir Ar, Not well, sir ? 
 
 Som. 'Faith not ever thus leaden; yet I know 
 no cause for't. 
 
 War. Now am 1, beyond mine own condition, 
 highly disposed to mirth. 
 
 Sir Ar. Well, you may have a morris to help 
 both ; 
 To strike you in a dump, and make him merry. 
 
 Enter Saw gut, the Fiddler^ the Moiria-dancerSf 
 and Fold A VIS, the Barber s boy. 
 
 Fid. Come, will you set yourselves in a morris- 
 'ray ? The fore-bell, second bell, tenor, and great- 
 bell : Maid Marian for the same bell. But where's 
 the weather-cock now ? the hobby-horse ? 
 
 1. Camp. Is not Banks come yet? What a spite 
 'tis ! 
 
 Sir Ar. When set you forward, gentlemen ? 
 
 X.Comp. We stay but for the hobby-horse, sir: 
 all our footmen are ready. 
 
 Som. 'Tis marvel your horse should be behind 
 your foot. 
 
 2. Comp. Yes, sir, he goes further about ; we 
 can come in at the wicket, but the broad gate must 
 be opened for him. 
 
 Enter Cuddy Banks, as Hobby^horse\ and the 
 
 Dog. 
 
 Sir Ar. Oh, we staid for you, sir. 
 
 ' HobbjfJuirse.'] * The hobby-horse w5 reprcscnttd by a
 
 SCENE III. THE WITCH OF EDMONTON. 459 
 
 Cud. Only my horse wanted a shoe, sir : but we 
 shall make you amends ere we part. 
 
 Sir Ar. Ay ? well said : make 'em drink ere 
 they begin. 
 
 Enter a Servant with beer. 
 
 Cud, A bowl, I pr'ythee, and a little for my 
 horse; he'll mount the better. Nay, give me, I 
 must drink to him, he'll not pledge else. Here 
 Hobby. [Drinks^ and then holds the howl to the 
 head of the hobby-horse J] I pray you. No? not 
 drink? You see, gentlemen, we can but bring our 
 horse to the water ; he may choose whether he'll 
 drink or no. 
 
 Soni. A good moral made plain by history. 
 
 I . Coinp. Strike up, father Sawgut, strike up. 
 
 Fid. E en when you will, children. Now, in 
 the name of the best foot, forward ! [^Endeavours 
 to play in vain.~\ How now? not a word in thy 
 guts ? 1 think, children, my instrument has caught 
 cold on the sudden. 
 
 Cud. My ningle's knavery : black Tom's do- 
 ing. [Aside.^ 
 
 All. Why, what mean you, father Sawgut? 
 
 Cud. Why, what would you have him do? You 
 hear his fiddle is speechless. 
 
 Fid. I'll lay mine ear to my instrument, that my 
 poor fiddle is bewitched. 1 play'd " The Flowers 
 in May" e'en now, as sweet as a violet ; now 'twill 
 not go against the hair. You see 1 can make no 
 more music than a beetle of a cow-turd. 
 
 nan cquip|)cd with as much pasteboard as was sufficient to form 
 the head and hinder parts of a horse, the quadrupedal defects be- 
 ing concealed by a long mantle or foot-cloth that ni-arly tonched 
 the ground. The performer, on this occasion, exerted all his 
 skill in burlesque horsemanship."Mr Donee's Dissertation, ut 
 suprOf p. 467.
 
 460 THE WITCH or Edmonton, act hi. 
 
 Cud. Let me see; father Sawgut, say once you 
 
 had a brave hobby-horse, that you were beholden 
 
 to. I'll play and dance too. Ningle, away with it. 
 
 [Takes thejiddle, and gives it to the Dogj 
 
 who plays the morris. 
 
 All. Ay, marry, sir! 
 
 Enter a Constable and Officers. 
 
 Con. Away with jollity! 'tis too sad an hour. 
 Sir Arthur Clarington, your own assistance. 
 In the king's name, 1 charge, for apprehension 
 Of these two murtherers, Warbe( k and Somerton. 
 
 Sir At, Ha ! Flat murtherers I 
 
 Som. Ha, ha, ha ! this has awaken'd my melan- 
 choly. 
 
 War. And struck my mirth down flat. Mur- 
 therers ? 
 
 Con. The accusation's flat against you, gentle- 
 men. 
 Sir, you may be satisfied with this. [Shows his war' 
 
 rant.~\ 1 hope you'll quietly 
 Obey my power; 'twill make your cause the fairer. 
 
 Both. Oh, with all our hearts, sir. 
 
 Cud. There's my rival taken up for hangman's 
 meat. Tom told me he was about a piece of vil- 
 lany. Mates and raorris-men, you see here's no 
 longer piping, no longer dancing. This news of 
 murther has slain the morris. You that go the 
 foot-way, fare ye well : 1 am for a gallop. Come, 
 n ingle. [Exit with the Dog. 
 
 Fid. [plays mi his Jiddle.~\ Ay? Nay, an my 
 fiddle be come to himself again, 1 care not. I think 
 the devil has been abroad amongst us this day. I'll 
 keep thee out of thy fit now, if 1 can. 
 
 [Exit with the morris-dancers. 
 
 Sir Ar. These things are full of horror, full of 
 
 pity.
 
 SCENE HI. THE WITCH OF EDMONTON. 4Gl 
 
 But if this time be constant to the proof, 
 The guilt of both these gentlemen 1 dare take 
 Upon mine own danger; yet, however, sir, 
 Your pow'r must be obeyed. 
 
 IVar. Oh, most willingly, sir ; 
 
 'Tis a most sweet affliction, I could not meet 
 A joy in the best shape with better will. 
 Come, fear not, sir ; nor judge, nor evidence 
 Can bind him o*er, who's freed by conscience. 
 
 Som. Mine stands so upright to the middle zone, 
 It takes no shadow to*t, it goes alone. \_Exeunt. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SCENE l.^The Street, 
 
 Enter Old Banks, with three Countrymen. 
 
 Banks. My horse this morning runs most pite- 
 ously of the glanders, whose nose yesternight was 
 as clean as any man's here, now coming from the 
 barber's ; and this, I'll take my death upon't, is 
 'long of this jadish witch mother Sawyer. 
 
 1. Coun. 1 took my wife and a serving-man in 
 our town of Edmonton, thrashing in my barn to- 
 gether, such corn as country-wenches carry to mar- 
 ket ; and examining my pole-cat why she did so, 
 she swore in her conscience she was bewitch'd : 
 and what witch have we about us but mother 
 Sawyer ? 
 
 2. Coun. Rid the town of her, else all our wives 
 will do nothing but dance about other country may- 
 poles. 
 
 3. Coun. Our cattle fall, our wives fall, our daugh- 
 ters fall, and maid-servants fall ; and we ourselves
 
 462 THE WITCH OF EDMONTON. ACT IV. 
 
 shall not be able to stand, if this beast be suffered 
 to graze amongst us. 
 
 Enter W. Hamluc, with thatch and a link. 
 
 Ham. Burn the witch, the witch, the witch, the 
 witch ! 
 
 All. What has*t got there? 
 
 Ham. A handful of thatch, pluck'd off a hovel 
 of her's ; and they say, when 'tis burning, if she be 
 a witch, she'll come running in. 
 
 Banks. Fire it, fire it ! I'll stand between thee 
 and home, for any danger. \_Thei/ burn the thatch. 
 
 Enter Mother Sawyer, running. 
 
 Saw. Diseases, plagues, the curse of an old wo- 
 man 
 Follow and fall upon you ! 
 
 All. Are you come, you old trot? 
 
 Banks. You hot whore, must we fetch you with 
 fire in your tail? 
 
 l.Coun. This thatch is as good as a jury to prove 
 she is a witch. 
 
 All. Out witch 1 beat her, kick her, set fire on 
 her! 
 
 Saw. Shall I be murdered by a bed of serpents ? 
 Help, help ! 
 
 Enter Sir Arthur Clarington, and a Justice. 
 
 All. Hang her, beat her, kill her! 
 
 Just. How now? Forbear this violence ! 
 
 Saw. A crew of villains, a knot of bloody hang- 
 men. 
 Set to torment me, I know not why. 
 
 Just. Alas, neighbour Banks, are you a ring- 
 leader in mischief? Fie, to abuse an aged woman I 
 
 Banks. Woman ? a she-hell-cat, a witch ? To 
 prove her one, we no sooner set fire on the thatch
 
 SCENE I. THE WItCH Of fiDMONTON. 463 
 
 of her house, but in she came running, as if the 
 devil had sent her in a barrel of gun-powder; which 
 trick as surely proves her a witch, as the pox, in a 
 snuffling nose, is a sign a man is a whoremaster. 
 
 Just. Come, come : firing her thatch ? ridicu- 
 lous ! 
 Take heed, sirs, what you do ; unless your proofs 
 Come better arm'd, instead of turning her 
 Into a witch, you'll prove yourselves stark fools. 
 
 All. Fools? 
 
 Jmt. Arrant fools. 
 
 Banks. 'Pray, master Justice what-you-call-'em, 
 hear me but in one thing: This grumbling devil 
 owes me, I know, no good will ever since I fell out 
 with her. 
 
 Saw. And breakMst my back with beating me. 
 
 Banks. V\\ break it worse. 
 
 Saw. Wilt thou ! 
 
 Just. You must not threaten her : 'tis against 
 law. 
 Go on. 
 
 Banks. So, sir, ever since, having a dun cow 
 tied up in my back-side, let me go thither, or but 
 cast mine eye at her, and if I should be hang*d, I 
 cannot choose, though it be ten times in a hour, 
 but run to the cow, and taking up her tail, kiss 
 (saving your worship's reverence) my cow behind, 
 that the whole town of Edmonton has been ready 
 to bepiss themselves with laughing me to scorn. 
 
 Just. And this is 'long of her? 
 
 Banks. Who the devil else ? for is any man such 
 an ass to be such a baby, if he were not bewitch'd? 
 
 Sir Ar. Nay, if she be a witch, and the harms 
 She does end in such sports, she may 'scape burn- 
 ing. 
 
 Just. Go, go 4 *pray ^'ex her not : she is a sub- 
 
 ject
 
 464 THE WITCH OF EDMONTON. ACT IV. 
 
 And you must not be judges of the law 
 To strike her as you please. 
 
 All. No, no, we'll find cudgel enough to strike 
 her. 
 
 Banks. Ay ; no lips to kiss but my cow*s ! 
 
 [^Exeunt Banks and Countrymen. 
 
 Saw. Rots and foul maladies eat up thee and 
 thine ! 
 
 Just. Here's none now, mother Sawyer, but this 
 gentleman, 
 Myself, and you; let us have some mild questions; 
 Have you mild answers. Tell us honestly. 
 And with a free confession (we'll do our best 
 To wean you from it), are you a witch, or no? 
 
 Saw. I am none. 
 
 Just. Be not so furious. 
 
 Saw. I'm none. 
 
 None but base curs so bark at me : I'm none. 
 Or 'would 1 were : if every poor old woman. 
 Be trod on thus by slaves, revil'd, kick'd, beaten. 
 As I am daily, she to be reveng'd 
 Had need turn witch. 
 
 Sir Ar. And you to be revenged 
 
 Have sold your soul to th^ devil. 
 
 Sate. Keep thine own from him. 
 
 Just. You are too saucy and too bitter. 
 
 Saw. Saucy ? 
 
 By what commission can he send my soul 
 On the devil's errand more than I can his ? 
 Is he a landlord of my soul, to thrust it 
 When he list out of door ? 
 
 Just. Know whom you speak too. 
 
 Saw. A man; perhaps no man. Men in gay 
 clothes. 
 Whose backs are laden with titles and honours, 
 Are within far more crooked than I am, 
 And if I be a witch, more witch-like
 
 SCENE I. THE WITCH OF EDMONTON. 465 
 
 Sir. Ar. You're a base hell-hound. 
 
 And now, sir, let me tell you, far and near 
 She's bruited' for-.a woman that maintains 
 A spirit that sucks her. 
 
 Saw. 1 defy thee. 
 
 Sir Ar. Go, go : 
 
 I can, if need be, bring^ an hundred voices, 
 E'en here in Edmonton, that shall proclaim 
 Thee for a secret and pernicious witch. 
 
 Sato. Ha, ha ! 
 
 Just. Do you laugh I why laugh you ? 
 
 Saw. At my name : 
 
 The brave name this knight gives me, witch. 
 
 Just. Is the name of witch 
 So pleasing to thine ear? 
 
 Sir Ar. 'l^ray? sir, give way ; 
 
 Let her tongue gallop on. 
 
 Saw. A witch? who is it not? 
 
 Hold not that universal name in scorn then. 
 What are your painted things in princes courts. 
 Upon whose eye-lids lust sits, blowing fires 
 To burn mens souls in sensual hot desires ; 
 Upon whose naked paps, a lecher's thought 
 Acts sin in fouler shapes than can be wrought? 
 
 Just. But those work not as you do. 
 
 Saw. No, but far worse. 
 
 These by enchantments, can whole lordships change 
 To trunks of rich attire ; turn ploughs and teams 
 To Flanders mares and coaches; and huge trains 
 Of servitors, to a French butterfly. 
 Have you not city-witches who can turn 
 Their husbands' wares, whole standing shops of 
 
 wares. 
 To sumptuous tables, gardens of stol'n sin, 
 
 ' Bruiledf\ Reported, noised. 
 VOL. II. G g 
 
 s
 
 466 THE WITCH OF EDMONTON. ACT IV. 
 
 In one year wasting, what scarce twenty win r 
 Are not these witches? 
 
 Just. Yes, yes ; j^ut the law 
 
 Casts not an eye on these. 
 
 Saw. Why then on mc, 
 
 Or any lean old beldam ? Reverence once 
 Had wont to wait on age: now an old woman, 
 lU-favour'd grown with years, if she be poor, 
 Must be call'd bawd or witch. Such, so abus'd, 
 Are the coarse witches : t'other are the fine. 
 Spun for the devil's own wearing. 
 
 Sir Ar. And so is thine. 
 
 Saw. She, on whose tongue a whirlwind sits to 
 blow 
 A man out of himself, from his soft pillow, 
 To lean his head on rocks and fighting waves, 
 Is not that scold a witch? The man of law 
 Whose honeyed hopes the credulous client draws, 
 (As bees by tinkling basons) to swarm to him. 
 From his own hive, to work the wax in his ; 
 He is no witch, not he ! 
 
 Sir Ar. But these men-witches 
 
 Are not in trading with hell's merchandize, 
 Like such as you are, that for a word, a look, 
 Denial of a coal of fire, kill men. 
 Children and cattle. 
 
 Saw. Tell them, sir, that do so. 
 
 Am 1 accus'd for such a one ? 
 
 Sir Ar. Yes ; 'twill be sworn. 
 
 Saw. Dare any swear I ever tempted maiden 
 With golden hooks flung at her chastity. 
 To come and lose her honour? and being lost, 
 To pay not a denier for't ? Some slaves have done 
 
 it. 
 Men-witches can, without the fangs oflaw,
 
 SCENE I. THE WITCH OF EDMONTON. 467 
 
 Drawing once one drop of blood, put counterfeit 
 
 pieces 
 Away for true gold. 
 
 Sir Ar. By one thing she speaks, 
 
 I know now she's a witch, and dare no longer 
 Hold conference with the fury. 
 
 Just. Let's then away. 
 
 Old woman, mend thy life, get home and pray. 
 
 \^Exeunt Sir Arthur and Justice. 
 
 Saw. For his confusion ! 
 
 Enter Doq. 
 
 My dear Tom-boy, welcome. 
 I'm torn in pieces by a pack of curs 
 Clapt all upon me, and for want of thee. 
 Comfort me: thou shalt have the teat anon. 
 
 Dog. Bow, wow: I'll have it now. 
 
 Saw. I am dried up 
 
 With cursing and with madness ; and have yet 
 No blood to moisten these sweet lips of thine. 
 Stand on thy hind-legs up. Kiss me, my Tommy, 
 And rub away some wrinkles on my brow. 
 By making my old ribs to shrug for joy 
 Of thy fine tricks. What hast thou done? Let's 
 
 tickle. 
 Hast thou struck the horse lame as I bid thee? 
 
 Dog. Yes ; 
 
 And nipp'd the sucking child. 
 
 Saw. Ho, ho, my dainty, 
 
 My little pearl ! No lady loves her hound. 
 Monkey, or parakeet, as 1 do thee. 
 
 Dog. The maid has been churning butter nine 
 hours ; 
 But it shall not come. 
 
 Saw. Let 'em eat cheese and choke. 
 
 Dog. I had rare sport 
 
 Among the clowns i* th* morris.
 
 468 THE WITCH OF EDMONTON. ACT IV. 
 
 Saw. I could dance 
 
 Out of my skin to hear thee. Hut my curl-pate, 
 That jade, that i'oul-tongued whore, Nan RatclitFe, 
 Who for a little soap lick'd by my soav. 
 Struck, and ahnost had Umi'd it ; did not 1 charge 
 
 thee 
 To pinch that quean to th' lieart? 
 
 J^og. Bow, wow, wow : look here else. 
 
 Enter Ann Ratcliffe mad. 
 
 Ann. See, see, see ! The man i* th* moon has 
 built a new windmill, and what running there's 
 from all quarters of the city to learn the art of 
 grinding ! 
 
 Saw. Ho, ho, ho ! I thank thee, my sweet mon- 
 grel. 
 
 Ann. Hoyda ! a pox of the devil's false hopper ! 
 all the golden meal runs into the rich knaves' 
 purses, and the poor have nothing but bran. Hey 
 derry down ! Are not you mother Sawyer? 
 
 Saw. No, I am a lawyer. 
 
 Ann. Art thou ? 1 pr'ythee let me scratch thy 
 face ; for thy pen has flea'd oft' a great many mens 
 skins. You'll have brave doings in the vacation ; 
 for knaves and fools are at variance in every village. 
 I'll sue mother Sawyer, and her own sow shall give 
 in evidence against her. 
 
 Saw. Touch her. [The Dog rubs against her. 
 
 Ann. Oh ! my ribs are made of a payn'd hose*, 
 
 ' Oh ! my ribs are made of a payn'd hose.] Paned hone are 
 what would now be called ribbed breeches. The intended pun 
 in the text will be easily understood. Those articles of dress 
 seem to have been very fashionable formerly. So in Massinger's 
 Great Duke of Florence, 
 
 " I liavc all that's re.qiiisilc 
 
 To the iiiakin;; up of a signior: my spnirc rnff, 
 My hooded cloak, lung stocktnsr, aud itaned hosi."
 
 SCENE I. THE WITCH OF EDMONTON. 469 
 
 and they break. There's a Lancashire hornpipe 
 in my throat : hark, how it tickles it, with doodle, 
 doodle, doodle, doodle. Welcome, Serjeants ! wel- 
 come, devil ! hands, hands ; hold hands, and dance 
 a-round, a-round, a-round. [^Dancing. 
 
 Enter Old Banks, his Son Cuddy, Old Rat- 
 CLiFFE, and Country -fellows. 
 
 Rat. She's here ; alas, my poor wife is here. 
 
 Banks. Catch her fast, and have her into some 
 close chamber, do; for she's, as many wives are, 
 stark mad. 
 
 Cud. The witch ! Mother Sawyer, the witch, 
 the devil ! 
 
 Mat. Oh, my dear wife ! Help, sirs! 
 
 [Ann Ratcliffe is taken away. 
 
 Banks. You see your work, mother Bumby. 
 
 Saw. My work ? Should she and all you here 
 run mad. 
 Is the work mine? 
 
 Cud. No, on my conscience, she would not hurt 
 a devil of two years old. 
 
 Re-enter Ratcliffe and the Countrymefi, 
 
 How now ? what's become of her ? 
 
 Rat. Nothing: she's become nothing, but the 
 miserable trunk of a wretched woman. We were 
 in her hands as reeds in a mighty tempest: 'spite 
 of our strengths, away she brake ; and nothing in 
 her mouth being heard, but " the devil, the witch, 
 the witch, the devil !" She beat out her brains, 
 and so died. 
 
 Cud. Its any man's case, be he never so wise,, to 
 die when his brains go a wool-gathering. 
 
 Banks. Masters, be rul'd by me ; let's all to a 
 justice. Hag,- thou hast done this, and thou shalt 
 answer it.
 
 470 THE WITCH OF EDMONTON. ACT IV. 
 
 Saw. Banks, I defy thee. 
 
 Banks. Get a warrant first to examine her ; then 
 ship her to Newgate: here's enough, if all her other 
 villanies were pardon'd, to burn her fora witch. You 
 have a spirit, they say, comes to you in the Hkeness 
 of a dog ; we shall see your cur at one time or other. 
 If we do, unless it be the devil himself, he shall go 
 howling to the gaol in one chain, and thou in an- 
 other. 
 
 Saw. Be hang*d thou in a third, and do thy 
 worst ! 
 
 Cud. How, father? you send the poor dumb 
 thing howling to th* gaol? He that makes him 
 howl, makes me roar. 
 
 Banks. V/hy, foolish boy, dost thou know him? 
 
 Cud. No matter if I do or not. He's bailable, I 
 am sure, by law. But if the dog's word will not be 
 taken, mine shall. 
 
 Banks. Thou bail for a dog ? 
 
 Cud. Yes, or a bitch either, being my friend. 
 rU lie by the heels myself, before puppy-son shall: 
 his dog-days are not come yet, 1 hope. 
 
 Banks. What manner of dog is it? didst ever see 
 him ? 
 
 Cud. See him? yes, and given him a bone to 
 gnaw twenty times. The dog is no court-foisting 
 hound, that fills his belly full by base wagging his 
 tail ; neither is it a citizen's water-spaniel, enticing 
 his master to go a-ducking twice or thrice a week, 
 whilst his wife makes ducks and drakes at home : 
 this is no Paris-garden bandog neither, that keeps 
 a bough-vvough-woughing, to have butchers bring 
 their curs thither ; and when all comes to all, they 
 run away like sheep: neither is this the black dog 
 of Newgate. 
 
 Banks. No, good-man, son-fool ; but the dog of 
 hell-gate.
 
 SCENE I. THE WITCH OF EDMONTON. 471 
 
 C id. I say, good-man, father-fool, it's a lie. 
 
 Ail. He's bewitch'd. 
 
 Cud. A gross lie, as big as myself. The devil 
 in St Dunstan's will as soon drink with this poor 
 cur, as with any Temple-bar-laundress, that washes 
 and wrings lawyers. 
 
 Dog. Bough, wough, wough, wough ! 
 
 All. Oh, the dog's here, the dog's here. 
 
 Banks. It was the voice of a dog. 
 
 Cud. The voice of a dog ? If that voice were a 
 dog's, what voice had my mother? So am I a 
 dog : bough, wough, wough. It was I that bark'd 
 so, father, to make cockscombs' of these clowns. 
 
 Banks, However, we'll be cockscomb'd no longer: 
 away, therefore, to th' justice for a warrant ; and 
 then. Gammer Gurton *, have at your needle of 
 witchcraft. 
 
 Saw. And prick thine own eyes out. Go, pee- 
 vish fools M 
 
 [Exit Banks, Rat. and Countrymen. 
 
 Cud. Ningle, you had like to have spoiled all 
 with your boughings. I was glad to put 'em off 
 with one of my dog-tricks, on a sudden ; I am be- 
 witched, little Cost-me-nought, to love thee, a 
 pox, that a morris makes me spit in thy mouth. I 
 dare not stay. Farewell, ningle; you whore-son 
 dog's nose ! Farewell, witch ! [Exit. 
 
 Dog. Bow, wow, wow, wow. 
 
 * Cockscombs ^~\ i. e. Fools, so called from the cock's combs 
 worn upon the caps of fools. The word must not be understood 
 in its modern sense. 
 
 * Gammer Gutton.'\ This lady obtained great popularity 
 from the excellent old comedy of Gammer Gurton's Needle. 
 
 * Peevish,'] Weak, silly. So in 'Tis Pity She's a Whore, by 
 Ford, (Vol. 1. p. 10.) : 
 
 ** This is yoOr peevish chattering, weak old man."
 
 472 THE WITCH OF EDMONTON. ACT IV. 
 
 Saw. Mind liim not, he's not worth thy worrying. 
 Run at a fairer game : thai foul-mouth'd knight. 
 Scurvy Sir Arthur, fly at him, my Tommy, 
 And pluck out's throat. 
 
 Dog. No, there's a dog already biting, his con- 
 science. 
 Saw. That's a sure blood-hound. Come, let's 
 home and play. 
 Our black work ended, we'll make holiday. 
 
 [^Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II. A Room in Carter** House. 
 Frank lying on d bed sleeping. 
 
 Enter Katherine. 
 
 Kath. Brother, brother! So sound asleep! that's 
 well. 
 
 Frank. No, not I, sister: He that's wounded 
 here 
 As I am (all my other hurts are bitings 
 Of a poor flea), but he that here once bleeds. 
 Is maim'd incurably. 
 
 Kath. My good sweet brother ; 
 
 For now my sister must grow up in you, 
 Tho' her loss strikes you thro*, and that I feel 
 The blow as deep, I pray thee be not cruel 
 To kill me too, by seeing you cast away 
 Jn your own helpless sorrow. Good love, sit up : 
 And if you can give physic to yourself, 
 I shall be well. 
 
 Frank. I'll do my best. 
 
 Katk. 1 thank you. 
 
 What do you look about you for ? 
 
 Frank. Nothing, nothing ; 
 
 But 1 was thinkinjx, sister
 
 SCENE II. THE WITCH OF EDMONTON. 473 
 
 Kath. Dear heart, what ? 
 
 Frank. Who but a fool would thus be bound to 
 a bed, 
 Having this room to walk in ? 
 
 Katli. Why do you talk so ? 
 
 'Would you were fast asleep. 
 
 Frank. No, no : I'm not idle* : 
 
 But here's my meaning ; being robb'd as 1 am, 
 Why should my soul, which married was to her's, 
 Live in divorce, and not fly after her ? 
 Why should not I walk hand in hand with Death, 
 To find my love out ? 
 
 Kath. That were well, indeed, 
 
 Your time being come; when Death is sent to call 
 
 you, 
 No doubt you shall meet her. 
 
 Frank. Why should not 1 
 
 Go without calling? 
 
 Katk. Yes, brother, so you might, 
 
 Were there no place to go to when you're gone, 
 But only this. 
 
 Frank. 'Troth, sister, thou say'st true ; 
 For when a man has been an hundred years 
 Hard travelling o'er the tott'ring bridge of age, 
 He's not the thousandth part upon his way. 
 All life is but a w<ind'ring to find home : 
 When we are gone, we're there. Happy were man, 
 Could here his voyage end ; he should not then 
 Answer, how well or ill he steer'd his soul, 
 By heav'n's or by hell's compass ; how he put in 
 (Losing bless'd goodness' shore) at such a sin ; 
 Nor how life's dear provision he has spent : 
 Nor how far he in's navigation went 
 Beyond commission. This were a fine reign, 
 To do ill, and not hear of it again. 
 
 ' Idle,'] Foolishj trifling.
 
 47-i" THE WITCH OF EDMONTON. ACT IV. 
 
 Yet then were man more wretched than a beast : 
 For, sister, our dead pay is sure the best. 
 
 Kath. *Tis so, the best or worst : and I wish 
 Heaven 
 To pay (and so I know it will) that traitor, 
 That devil Somerton (who stood in mine eye 
 Once as an angel) iiome to his deservings. 
 What villain but himself, once loving me, 
 With Warbeck's soul would pawn his own to hell, 
 To be revenged on my poor sister ! 
 
 Frank. Slaves ! 
 
 A pair of merciless slaves I speak no more of them. 
 
 Kath. 1 think this talking hurts you. 
 
 Frank. Does me no good, Tm sure. 
 
 I pay for't everywhere. 
 
 Kath. I have done then. 
 
 Eat if you cannot sleep : you have these two days 
 ^ot tasted any food. Jane, is it ready \ 
 
 Frank. What's ready ? what's ready ? 
 
 Kath. 1 have made ready a roasted chicken for 
 you. 
 Sweet, wilt thou eat ? 
 
 Enter a Maid-Servant bringing a dish to the Bedside. 
 
 Frank. A pretty stomach on a sudden, yes. 
 There's one i' th' house can play upon a lute : 
 Good girl, let's hear him too. 
 
 Kath. You shall, dear brother. 
 
 *Would 1 were a musician, you should hear 
 
 [Lute plays within. 
 How I would feast your car. Stay, mend your pil- 
 low. 
 And raise you higher. 
 
 Frank. I am up too high : 
 
 Am 1 not sister, now ? 
 
 Kath. No, no, 'tis well.
 
 SCENE II. THE WITCH OF EDMONTON. 4/5 
 
 Fall to, fall to ! A knife, here's ne'er a knife. 
 Brother, I'll look out your's. 
 
 [Searches in his clothes. 
 
 Enter the Dogy shrugging as it were for joi/, and 
 
 dances. 
 
 Frank. Sister, O sister, 
 
 I'm ill upon a sudden, and can eat nothing. 
 
 Kath. In very deed you shalL The want of food 
 Makes you so faint. Ha ! here's none in your pocket. 
 [Finds the bloody knife in his pocket. 
 I will go fetch a knife. 
 
 Frank. Will you ? 'tis well, all's well. 
 
 [Exit Katherine. 
 
 The Dog runs off. Frank lies down. The spirit 
 o/* Susan comes to the bed's side : he turns to the 
 other^ but the spirit is there. In the meanwhile 
 enter Winnifrede a a page., and stands at the 
 foot of the bed. Frank sits up in the bed^ and 
 the spirit vanishes. 
 
 Frank. What art thou ? 
 
 Win. A lost creature. 
 
 Frank. So am I too. Win ? 
 
 Ah, my she-page ! 
 
 Win. For your sake I put on 
 
 A shape that's false ; yet do I wear a heart 
 True to you as your own. 
 
 Frank. 'Would mine and thine 
 
 Were fellows in one house. Kneel by me here : 
 On this side now ? How dar'st thou come to mock 
 
 me 
 On both sides of my bed ? 
 
 Win. When ? 
 
 Frank. But just now : 
 
 Outface me ; stare upon me with strange postures ; 
 Turn my soul wild by a face in which were drawn
 
 47^ THE WITCH OF EDMO.N lOxN. ACT IV. 
 
 A thousand ghosts leapt newly irom their graves, 
 To pluck me into a winding sheet ! 
 
 h'i/i. Believe it, 
 
 I came no nearer to you than yon place, 
 At your bed's leet ; and of the house had leave, 
 Calling myself your horse-boy, in to come 
 And visit my sick master. 
 
 Frank. Then 'twas my i'aiicy ; 
 
 Some windmill in my brains for want of sleep. 
 IVin. 'Would 1 might never sleep so you could 
 rest ! 
 But you have pluck'd a thunder on your head. 
 Whose noise cannot cease suddenly : why should 
 
 you 
 Dance at the wedding of a second wife, 
 When scarce the music which you heard at mine 
 Had ta'en a farewell of you ! O, this was ill ! 
 And they who thus can give both hands away. 
 In th* end shall want their best limbs. 
 
 Fran A'. VVinnifrede, 
 
 The chamber door['s] fast ? 
 IVin. Yes. 
 
 Frank. Sit thee then down ; 
 
 And when thou'st heard me speak, melt into tears: 
 Yet 1, to save those eyes of thine from weeping, 
 Being to write a story of us two, 
 Instead of ink, dipp'd my sad pen in blood. 
 When of thee I took leave, 1 went abroad 
 Only for pillage, as a freebooter, 
 AVliat gold soe'er 1 got, to niake it thine. 
 To please a father, 1 have Heaven displeas'd, 
 Striving to cast two wedding-rings in one, 
 Thro' my bad workmanship I now have none. 
 I have lost her and thee. 
 
 Win. I know she's dead : 
 
 But you have me still.
 
 SCENE II. THE WITCH OF EDMONTON. 477 
 
 Frank. Nay^ her this hand 
 
 Murdered, ; and so 1 loose thee too. 
 
 Win. Oh me ! 
 
 Frank. Be quiet, for thou ray evidence art, 
 Jury and judge : sit quiet and I'll tell all. 
 
 [I'hei/ whisper. 
 
 Enter at one end of the Stage Old Carter and 
 Katherine, at the other the Dog, who paws 
 soft 1 1/ at Frank. 
 
 Kath. 1 have run madding up and down to find 
 yon, 
 Being laden with the heaviest news that ever 
 Toor dausfhter carried. 
 
 Car. Why I is the boy dead \ 
 
 Kath. Dead, sir? Oh father, we are cozen'd : 
 you are told 
 The murtherer sings in prison, and he laughs here. 
 This villain kill'd my sister : see else, see, 
 A bloody knife in's pocket. 
 
 Car. Bless me, patience ! 
 
 Frank. The knife, the knife, the knife ! 
 
 Kath. What knife ? [^Exit Dog. 
 
 Frank. To cut my chicken up, my chicken : 
 
 Be you my carver, father. 
 
 Car. That I will. 
 
 Kath. How the devil steels our brows after do- 
 ing ill ! . 
 
 Frank. My stomach and my sight are taken fron 
 me ; 
 All is not well within me. 
 
 Car. 1 believe thee, boy : I that have seen so 
 many moons clap their horns on other mens 
 foreheads to strike them sick ; yet mine to 
 *scape, and be well ! I that never cast away a 
 fee upon urinals, but am as sound as an honest 
 man's conscience when he's dvina:. I should crv
 
 478 THE WITCH OF EDMONTON. ACT IV. 
 
 out as thou dost, *' All is not well within me,'* felt 
 I but the bag of thy imposthumes. Ah poor vil- 
 lain! ah my wounded rascal ! all my grief is, 1 have 
 now small hope of thee. 
 
 Frank. Do the surgeons say my wounds are 
 
 dangerous, then ? 
 Car. Yes, yes, and there's no way with thee but 
 one, 
 
 Frank. 'Would he were here to open them. 
 Car. I'll go to fetch him : I'll make an holiday 
 to see thee as I wish. [^Exit. 
 
 Frank. A wond'rous kind old man. 
 Win. Your sin's the blacker so to abuse his good- 
 ness. 
 Master, how do you ? 
 Frank. Pretty well now, boy : I have such odd 
 qualms 
 Come cross my stomach : I'll fall to ; boy cut me. 
 Win. You have cut me, I'm sure. A leg or 
 
 wing, sir ? 
 Frank. No, no, no: awing? 'Would I had wings 
 to soar 
 Up to yon tower '. But here's a clog that hinders 
 me. 
 
 Enter Carter icilh the body 0/ Susan in a coffin. 
 
 What's that I 
 
 Car. That ? what ! oh, now 1 see her ; 'tis a 
 young wench, my daughter, sirrah, sick to the 
 death ; and hearing thee to be an excellent rascal 
 for letting blood, she looks out at a casement, and 
 cries : " Help ! help ! stay that man ! him must I 
 have, or none." 
 
 ' Would I had icings to soar up to yon /oic'/".] If I recollect 
 right, this is a quotation from some ancient loTe-song.
 
 SCENE II. THE WITCH OF EDMONTON. 479 
 
 Frank. For pity's sake remove her: see, she stares 
 With one broad open eye still in my face. 
 
 Car. Thou puttestboth hers out, like a villain 
 as thou art ; yet she is willing to lend thee one 
 again, to find out the murtherer, and that's thyself. 
 Frank. Old man thou liest. 
 Car. So shalt thou, i' th' jail. Run for officers ! 
 Katli. Oh thou merciless slave ! 
 She was (tho' yet above the ground) in her grave 
 To me, but thou hast torn it up again. 
 Aline eyes too much drown'd, now must feel more 
 rain. 
 Car. Fetch officers. [Exit Kath^ 
 
 Frank. For whom ? 
 
 Car. For thee, sirrah ! sirrah ! Some knives 
 have fooolish posies upon them, but thine has a 
 villainous one: Look ! (Shewing the knife.) Oh it 
 is enamelled with the heart-blood of thy hated wife, 
 my beloved daughter. What say'st thou to this 
 evidence? is't not sharp ? does't not strike home ? 
 thou canst not answer honestly, and without a 
 trembling heart, to this one point, this terrible 
 bloody point. 
 
 Win. I beseech you, sir, strike him no more ; 
 You see he's dead already. 
 
 Car. Oh, sir ? you held his horses; you are as 
 arrant a rogue as he : up go you too. 
 
 Frank. As you're a man, throw not upon that 
 woman 
 Your loads of tyranny, for she's innocent. 
 
 Car. How now \ a woman \ Is't grown to a 
 fashion for women in all countries to wear the 
 breeches ? 
 
 Win. I am not as my disguise speaks me, sir, 
 
 His page ; but his first, only wife, his lawful wife. 
 
 Car. How ? how ? more fire i* th' bed-straw.
 
 480 THE WITCH OF EDMONTON. ACT IV. 
 
 Win, The wrongs which singly fell upon your 
 daughter, 
 On me are multiplied : she lost a life, 
 But I an husband and myself must lose. 
 If you call him to a bar for what be has done. 
 
 Car. He has done it then I 
 
 Win. Yes, 'tis confessed to me. 
 
 Frank. Dost thou betray me ? 
 
 Win. Oh pardon me, dear heart ! I'm mad to 
 lose thee. 
 And know not what I speak ; but if thou didst, 
 I must arraign this father for two sins. 
 Adultery and murther. 
 
 Enter Katherine. 
 
 Kath. Sir, they're come. 
 
 Car. Arraign me for what thou wilt, all Middle- 
 sex knows me better for an honest man, than the 
 middle of a market-place knows thee for an honest 
 woman. Rise, sirrah, and don' your tacklings, rig 
 yourself for the gallows, or I'll carry thee thither 
 on my back : your trull shall to th' jail go with 
 you ; there be as fine Newgate birds as she, that 
 can draw him in. Pox on's wounds ! 
 
 Frank. I've serv'd thee, and my wages now are 
 paid. 
 Yet my worst punishment shall, I hope, be staid. 
 
 [E.veunt. 
 
 ' Don,] Put on, contracted from do on.
 
 SCENE I. THE WITCH OF EDMONTON. 4Sl 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 SCENE I. The inside of the Witch's Hut. 
 
 Enter Mother Sawyer. 
 
 Saw. Still wrong'd by every slave] and not a dog 
 Bark in his dame's defence ? I am call'd witch, 
 Yet am myself bewitch'd from doing harm. 
 Have I giv'n up myself to thy black lust 
 Thus to be scorn'd ? not see me in three days ? 
 I'm lost without my Tomalin : pr'ythee come, 
 Revenge to me is sweeter far than life ; 
 Thou art my raven, on whose coal-black wings 
 Revenge comes flying to me. Oh my best love ! 
 I am on fire, even in the midst of ice, 
 Raking my blood up, till my shrunk knees feel 
 Thy curl'd head leaning on them. Come then, jny 
 
 darling, 
 If in the air thou hover'st, fall upon me 
 In some dark cloud ; and as I oit have seen 
 Dragons and serpents in the elements, 
 Appear thou qow so to me. Art thou i* th' sea? 
 Muster up all the monsters from the deep, 
 And be the ugliest of them. So that my bulch ' 
 Shew but his swarth cheek to me, let earth cleave, 
 And break from hell, I care not : could I run 
 Like a swift powder-mine beneath the world, 
 Up would 1 blow it, all to find out thee, 
 Tho* I lay ruin'd in it. Not yet come ! 
 I must then fall to my old prayer : 
 
 * Bulch.'\ Probably an abbreviation from bulchin^ a young 
 male calf. So in Shirley's Gamester : 
 
 " Hazard and Wilding, how is'tp how isU, InMiintV 
 
 VOL. 11. H h 
 
 s
 
 489 THE WITCH OF EDMONTON. ACT V. 
 
 Sanctihiceter nomen tuum. Not yet come 1 
 Worrying of wolves, biting of mad dogs, the manges, 
 And the r- 
 
 Enter the Dogy white. 
 
 Dog. How now ! whom art thou cursing I 
 
 Saw. Thee. Ha ! No, *tis my black dog I am 
 cursing, 
 For not attending on me. 
 
 Dog. I am that cur. 
 
 Saw. Thou liest : hence ! come not nigh me. 
 
 Dog. Bough, wough. 
 
 Sai(,\ Why dost thou thus appear to me in white, 
 As if thou wert the ghost of my dear love I 
 
 Dog. I am dogged, list not to tell thee yet, to 
 torment thee ; my whiteness puts thee in mind of 
 thy winding sheet '. 
 
 Saw, Am I near death ? 
 
 Dog. Yes, if the dog of hell be near thee. When 
 the devil comes to thee as a lamb, have at thy 
 throat ! 
 
 Saw. Off, cur ! 
 
 Dog. He has the back of a sheep, but the belly 
 of an otter ; devours by sea and land. Why am I 
 in white I didst thou not pray to me ? 
 
 Saw. Yes thou dissembling hell-hound : 
 Why now in white more than at other times ? 
 
 Dog. Be blasted with the news : whiteness is 
 day's foot-boy, a forerunner to light, which shows 
 thy old riveird face : villainies are stript naked ; 
 the witch must be beaten out of her cock-pit. 
 
 Saw. Must she ? she shall not : thou'rt a lying 
 spirit : 
 Why to mine eyes art thou a flag of truce ? 
 I am at peade with none : 'tis the black colour 
 
 * Sxcet,"] So the quarto reads corruptedly.
 
 SCENE I. THE WITCH OF EDMONTON. 483 
 
 Or none, which I fight under. I do not hke 
 Thy puritan paleness. Glowing furnaces 
 Are iar more hot than they which flame outright. 
 If thou my old dog art, go and bite such 
 As I shall set thee on. 
 
 Dog. 1 will not. 
 
 Saw. rU sell myself to twenty thousand fiends, 
 To have thee torn in pieces. 
 
 Doo'. Thou canst not : thou art so ripe to fall in- 
 to hell, that no more of my kennel will so much as 
 bark at him that hangs thee. 
 
 Saw. I shall run mad. 
 
 Dog. Do so, thy time is come to curse, and rave, 
 and die. The glass of thy sins is full, and it must 
 run out at gallows. 
 
 SeifW. It cannot, ugly cur. Til confess nothing ; 
 And not confessing, who dare come and swear 
 1 have bewitch'd them ? I'll not confess one mouth- 
 ful. 
 
 Dog. Choose, and be hang'd or burn'd. 
 
 Saii\ 'Spite of the devil and thee, 
 I'll muzzle up my tongue from telling tales. 
 
 Dog. 'Spite of thee and the devil thou'lt be 
 condemn'd. 
 
 Saic. Yes \ when X 
 
 Dog. And ere the executioner catch thee full in's 
 claws, thou'lt confess all. 
 
 Saw. Out dog ! 
 
 Dog. Out witch ! thy trial is at hand : 
 
 Our prey being had, the devil does laughing stand. 
 
 [Stands aloof. 
 
 Enter 0/c? Banks, Ratcliffe, and Countri/men. 
 
 Banks. She's here ; attach her ! Witch, you 
 must go with us. [She is seized. 
 
 Saw. Whither I to hell ? 
 Banks. No, ho, no, old crone : your mittimus
 
 48'i THE WITCH OF EDiMONTON. ACT V. 
 
 shall be made thither, but your own jailors shall 
 receive you. Away with her ! 
 
 Saw. My Tommy ! my sweet Tom-boy ! Oh, 
 thou dog ! 
 Dost thou now fly to thy kennel and forsake me ! 
 Plagues and consumptions [tS'Ae is carried off. 
 
 Dog. Ha, ha, ha, ha ! 
 Let not the world witches or devils condemn ; 
 They follow us, and then we follow them. 
 
 Enter Cuddy Banks. 
 
 Cud. I Avould fain meet with mine ingle once 
 more ; he has had a claw amongst 'em. My rival 
 that lov'd my wench is like to be hang'd like an 
 innocent. A kind cur where he takes ; but where 
 he takes not, a dogged rascal. 1 know the villain 
 loves me. [^Dogharks.^ No, art thou there! that's 
 Tom's voice, but 'tis not he ; this is a dog of an- 
 other hair. This ! bark and not speak to me ? not 
 Tom then : there's as much difference betwixt 
 Tom and this, as betwixt white and black. 
 
 Dog. Hast thou forgot me ? 
 
 Cud. That's Tom again : pr'ythee speak, ningle, 
 speak : is thy name Tom ? 
 
 Dog. Whilst 1 serv'd my old dame Sawyer, 'twas. 
 I'm gone from her now. 
 
 Cud. Gone \ away with the witch then too ! 
 she'll never thrive if thou Icav'st her ; she knows 
 no more how to kill a cow, or a horse, or a sow, 
 without thee, than she does to kill a goose. 
 
 Dog. No, she has done killing now, but must 
 be killed for what she has done. She's shortly to 
 be liang'd. 
 
 Cud. Is she ? In my conscience if she be, *tis 
 thou hast brought her to the gallows, Tom. 
 
 Dog. Right : 1 serv'd her to that purpose ; 'twas 
 part of my wages.
 
 SCENE I. THE WITCH OF EDMONTON. 485 
 
 Cud. This was no honest servant's part, by your 
 leave, Tom. This remember, I pray you, between 
 you and I, I entertain'd you ever as a dog, not as a 
 devil. 
 
 Dog. True ; and so I us'd thee doggedly, not 
 devilishly. 
 I have deluded thee for sport to laugh at. 
 The wench thou seek'st after thou never spak'st with. 
 But a spirit in her form, habit, and likeness. Ha, ha ! 
 
 Cud. I do not then wonder at the change of your 
 garments, if you can enter into shapes of women too. 
 
 Dog. Any shape, to blind such silly eyes as 
 thine ; but chiefly those coarse creatures, dog, or 
 cat, hare, ferret, frog, toad. 
 
 Cud. Louse or flea ? 
 
 Dog, Any poor vermin. 
 
 Cud. It seems you devils have poor thin souls, 
 that you can bestow yourselves in such small bodies. 
 But 'pray you, Tom, one question at parting (I 
 think 1 shall never see you more), where do you 
 borrow those bodies that are not your own ? The 
 garment-shape you may hire at brokers. ^ 
 
 Dog. Why would'st thou know that ? fool it a- 
 vails thee not. 
 
 Cud. Only for my mind's sake, Tom, and to 
 tell some of my friends. 
 
 Dog. I'll thus much tell thee : thou never art so 
 distant 
 From an evil spirit, but that thy oaths, 
 Curses, and blasphemies pull him to thine elbow ; 
 Thou never telTst a lie, but that a devil 
 Is within hearing it ; thy evil purposes 
 Are ever haunted ; but when they come to act, 
 As thy tongue slandering, bearing false witness, 
 Thy hand stabbing, stealing, cozening, cheating, 
 He's then within thee : thou play'st, he bets upon 
 thy part ;
 
 486 lUE WITCH OF EDMONTON. ACT V. 
 
 Altho' thou lose, yet he will gain by thee. 
 n Cud. Aye? then he comes in the shape of a rook ? 
 Dog. The old cadaver of soaie self-strangled 
 wretch 
 We sometimes borrow, and appear human ' : 
 The carcase of some disease-slain strumpet 
 We varnish fresh, and wear as her first beauty. 
 Didst never hear ? if not, it has been done ; 
 An hot luxurious lecher in his twines, 
 When he has thought to clip his dalliance. 
 There has provided been for his embrace 
 A fine hot flaming devil in her place. 
 
 Cud. Yes, 1 am partly a witness to this ; but 1 
 never could embrace her : 1 thank thee for that, 
 Tom. Well, again I thank thee, Tom, for all this 
 counsel ; without a fee, too. There's few lawyers 
 of thy mind now. Certainly, Tom, 1 begin to pity 
 thee. 
 
 Dog. Pity me? for what ? 
 
 Cud. Were it possible for thee to become an 
 honest dog y^t ? 'Tis a base life that you lead, 
 Tom, to serve witches, to kill innocent children, 
 to kill harmless cattle, to *stroy corn and fruit, and 
 so forth. 'Twere better to be a butcher and kill for 
 yourself. 
 
 Dog. Why, these are all my delights, my plca- 
 . ; i, aures, fool. 
 
 Cyd. Or, Tom, if you couid give your mind to 
 ducking, (I know you can swim, fetch, and carry) 
 some shopkeeper in London would take great de- 
 light in you, and be a tender master over you : or 
 if you have any mind to the game, either at bull or 
 bear, I think 1 could prefer you to MoUCutpurse*. 
 
 ' Humane.'] The difference between human and humane was 
 not well established in onr author's period. The latter is evident- 
 ly confounded with the former. 
 
 * Moll Cutpurse, or Mary Frith, was a celebrated character
 
 SCENE I. THE WITCH OF EDMONTON. 487 
 
 Dog, Ha, ha ! I should kill all the game, bulls, 
 bears, dogs and all : not a cub to be left. 
 
 Cud. You could do, Tom, but you must play 
 fair, you should be stav'd oft' else. Or if your 
 stomach did better like to serve in some noble- 
 man's, knight*s, or sjentleman's kitchen, if you 
 could brook the wheel, and turn the spit (your la- 
 bour could not be much), when they have roast 
 meat, that's but once or twice in the week at most; 
 here you could lick you own toes very well ; or if 
 you could translate yourself into a lady's arming 
 puppy, there you might lick sweet lips, and do 
 many pretty offices. But to creep under an old 
 witch's coats, and suck like a great puppy ! fie 
 upon't ! 1 have heard beastly things of you, Tom. 
 
 Dog. Ha, ha ! the worst thou heardst of me the 
 better 'tis. 
 Shall I serve thee, fool, at the self-same rate I 
 
 Cud. No, I'll see thee hang'd, thou shalt be 
 damn'd first ! I know thy qualities too well. I'll 
 give no suck to such whelps ; therefore, henceforth 
 1 defy thee. Out ! avaunt ! 
 
 Dog. Nor will 1 serve for such a silly soul. 
 I am for greatness now, corrupted greatness ; 
 There Til shug in, and get a noble countenance : 
 Serve some Briarean footcloth-strider', 
 That has an hundred hands to caich at bribes. 
 But not a finger's nail of charity. 
 Such, like the dragon's tail, shall pull down hundreds 
 
 in the days of King James I., who, assuming the habit of either 
 sex, acted alternately the character of a prostitute, pick-pocket, 
 thief, &c. She died in 1659. An excellent comedy, entitled, 
 The Roaring Girl, or Moll Cutpurse, in which she is a princi. 
 pal character, was the joint production of Middletou and Dek. 
 kar, 
 
 ' 'Footcloth-strider. "] Footcloth was the caparison of a state- 
 horse : it became subsequently a tena for the horse itself.
 
 488 THE WITCH OF EDMONTON. ACT Y. 
 
 To drop and sink with him : I'll stretch myself, 
 And draw this bulk small as a silver wire, 
 Enter at the least pore, tohacco-furae 
 Can make a breach for. Hence, silly fool ! 
 1 scorn to prey on such an atora-soul. 
 
 Cud. Come out, come out, you cur! I will beat 
 thee out of the bounds of Edmonton, and to-mor- 
 row we go in procession, and after thou shalt never 
 come in again. If thou goest to London, Til make 
 thee go about by Tyburn, stealing in by Thieving- 
 lane. If thou canst rub thy shoulder against a 
 lawyer's gown, as thou passest by Westminster- 
 hall, do ; if not, to the stairs amongst the ban-dogs ' 
 take water, and the devil go with thee. 
 
 [^Exeunt Cuddy, and the Dog harking. 
 
 SCENE II. London. A Street leading to Tyburn. 
 
 Enter Sir Arthur, Someuton, Warbeck, Car- 
 ter, and Katherine. 
 
 Jttst. Sir Arthur, though the bench hath mildly 
 censured your errors, yet you have indeed been the 
 instrument that wrought all their misfortunes; I 
 would wish you paid down your fine speedily and 
 willingly. 
 
 Sir Ar. I need no urging to it. 
 
 Cat If you should, 'twere a shame to you; for, 
 if I should speak my conscience, you are worthier 
 to be hang'd of the two, all things considered; and 
 now make what you can of it. But I am glad these 
 gentlemen are freed. 
 
 ' To the stairs amongst the ban-dogs.'] This probably refers 
 to the celebrated bear-garden, called Paris-garden, which was 
 contiguous to the Globctbeafre, and situated on the Bank.side in 
 Suuthwark.
 
 SCN I. THE WITCH OF EDMONTON. 489 
 
 War. We knew our innocence. 
 
 Som, And therefore fear'd it not. 
 
 Kath. But I am glad that I have you safe. 
 
 [A noise within. 
 Just. How now ? what noise is that ? 
 Cud. Young Frank is going the wrong way. 
 Alas, poor youth ! Now, I begin to pity him. 
 
 Enter Old Thorney, and Winnifrede weeping, 
 
 Thor. Here let our sorrows wait him : to press 
 nearer 
 The place of his sad death, some apprehensions 
 May tempt our grief too much, at height already. 
 Daughter, be comforted. 
 
 Win. Comfort and I 
 
 Are too far separated to be joinM 
 But in eternity. I share too much 
 Of him that's going thither. 
 
 Car. Poor woman, 'twas not thy fault : I 
 grieve to see thee weep for him that hath my pity 
 too. 
 
 Win. My fault was lust, my punishment was 
 shame. 
 Yet I am happy that my soul is free 
 Both from consent, tore-knowledge, and intent, 
 Of any murther, but of mine own honour, 
 Restor'd again by a fair satisfaction, 
 And since not to be wounded. 
 
 Thor. Daughter, grieve not 
 
 For what necessity forceth ; rather resolve 
 To conquer it with patience. Alas, she faints! 
 
 Win. My griefs are strong upon me ; my weak- 
 ness scarce 
 Can bear them. 
 {Within.'\ Away with her ! Hang her, witch t
 
 4f)0 THE WITCH OF EDMONTON. ACT V. 
 
 Enter to execution Mother Sawyer ; Officers with 
 halberts; Country people. 
 
 Car. The witch, that instrument of mischief I 
 Did not she witch the devil into my son-in-law, 
 when he kil^d my poor daughter? Do you hear, 
 mother Sawyer ? 
 
 Saw. What would you have ? 
 Cannot a poor old woman have your leave 
 To die without vexation ? 
 
 Car. Did not you bewitch Frank, to kill his wife! 
 He could never have done't without the devil. 
 
 Saw. Who doubts^it ? But is every devil mine? 
 'Would I had one now whom I might command 
 To tear you all in pieces ! Tom would have done't 
 Before he left me. 
 
 Car. Thou didst bewitch Ann Ratcliffe to kill 
 herself. 
 
 5^att>, Churl, thou liest ; I never did her hurt: 
 'would you were all as near your ends as I am, that 
 gave evidence against me for it. 
 
 C<yun, y\\ be sworn, master Carter, she bewitch'd 
 Gammer Washbowl's sow to cast her pigs a day 
 before the day they would have farried. Yet they 
 were sent up to London, and sold for as good 
 Westminster dog-pigs, at Bartholomew-fair, as ever 
 great-bellied ale-wife longed for. 
 
 Saw. These dogs will mad me: 1 was well rc- 
 
 '^^ solv'd 
 
 To die in my repentance ; tho' 'tis true 
 I would live longer if I might : yet since 
 I cannot, 'pray torment me not. My conscienc*' 
 Is settled as it shall be. All take heed 
 How they believe the devil; at last he'll cheat you. 
 
 Ci#.J Thou'dst best confess all truly. 
 
 Saw. Yet again I 
 
 Have I scarce breath enough to say my prayers }
 
 SCENE II. THE WITCH OF EDMONTON. 491 
 
 And would you force me to spend that in bawling] 
 Bear witness, I repent all former evil, 
 There is no damned conjuror like the devil. 
 
 AIL Away with her, away ! [She is led dff. 
 
 Enter Frank to execution, and Officers. 
 
 Thor. Here's the sad object which I yet ninst 
 meet 
 With hope of comfort, if a repentant end 
 Make him more happy than misfortune would 
 Suffer him here to be, 
 
 Frank. ' Good sirs, turn from me ; 
 
 You will revive affliction almost kill'd 
 With my continual sorrow. 
 
 Thor. Oh, Frank, Frank ! 
 
 'Would I had sunk in mine own wants, or died 
 But one bare minute ere thy fault was acted ! 
 
 Frank. To look upon your sorrows executes me, 
 I^fore my execution. 
 
 Win. Let me pray you, sir 
 
 Frank. Thou much wrong'd woman, I must sigh 
 for thee. 
 As he that's only loath to leave the world 
 For that he leaves thee in it unprovided, 
 Unfriended ; and for me to beg a pity 
 From any man to thee when 1 am gone, 
 Is more than I can hope ; nor, to say truth. 
 Have I deserv'd it : but there is a payment 
 Belongs to goodness from the great exchequer 
 Above : it will not fail thee, Winnifrede ; 
 Be that thy comfort. 
 
 Thor. Let it be thine too. 
 
 Untimely lost young man. 
 
 Frank. He is not lost, 
 
 Who bears his peace within him : had 1 spun 
 My web of life. out at full length, and dreamed 
 Away mv manv vears in lusts, in surfeits,
 
 492 THE WITCH OP EDMONTON. ACT V. 
 
 Murthers of reputations, gallant sins 
 Commended or approv'd ; then, tho' I had 
 Died easily, as great and rich men do, 
 Upon my own bed, not compell'd by justice. 
 You might have mourn'd for me indeed ; my mise- 
 ries 
 Had been as everlasting, as remediless : 
 But now the law hath not arraign'd, condemn'd, 
 With greater rigour my unhappy fact. 
 Than I myself have every little sin 
 My memory can reckon from my childhood : 
 A court hath been kept here, where 1 am found 
 Guilty ; the difference is, my impartial judge 
 Is much more gracious than my faults 
 Are monstrous to be nam'd ; yes, they are mon- 
 strous. 
 Thor. Here's comfort in this penitence. 
 Win. It speaks 
 
 How truly you are reconciTd, and quickens 
 My dying comfort, that was near expiring 
 With my last breath : now this repentance makes 
 
 thee 
 As white as innocence ; and my first sin with thee. 
 Since which I knew none like it, by my sorrow 
 Is clearly cancelTd. Might our souls together 
 Climb to the height of their eternity. 
 And there enjoy what earth denied us, happiness! 
 But since 1 must survive, and be the monument 
 Of thy lov'd memory, I will preserve it 
 With a religious care, and pay thy ashes 
 A widow's duty, calling that end best. 
 Which, tho* it stain the name, makes the soul blest. 
 Frank. Give me thy hand, poor woman. Do not 
 weep ! 
 Farewell. Thou dost forgive me ] 
 
 Win. 'Tis my part 
 
 To use that language.
 
 SCENE II. THE WITCH OF EDMONTON". "^93 
 
 Frank. Oh ! that my example 
 
 Might teach the world hereafter what a curse 
 Hangs on their heads, who rather choose to marry 
 A goodly portion than a dovv'r ot" virtues ! 
 Are you there, gentlemen ? there is not one 
 Amongst you whom I have not wrong'd; you most: 
 
 [To Carter. 
 1 robb'd you of a daughter; but she is 
 In heaven ; and 1 must suffer for it willingly. 
 
 Car. Ay, av, she's in heaven, and 1 am glad to 
 see thee so well prepared to follow her. I forgive 
 thee with all my heart. If thou Iiadst not had ill 
 counsel, thou would'st not have done as thou didst: 
 the more shame for them ! 
 
 Som. Spare your excuses to me, I do conceive 
 What you would speak. I would you could as ea- 
 sily 
 Make satisfaction to the law, as to 
 My wrongs: I'm sorry for you. 
 
 fVar. And so am I, 
 
 And heartily forgive you. 
 
 Kath. I will pray for you, 
 
 For her sake, who, Tm sure, did love you dearly. 
 Sir Ar. Let us part friendly too: I am asham'd 
 Of my part in thy wrongs. 
 
 Frank. You are all merciful, 
 
 And send me to my grave in peace. Sir Arthur, 
 Heaven send you anew heart. Lastly, to you, sir; 
 And tho' 1 have deserv'd not to be call'd 
 Your son, yet give me leave upon my knees, 
 To beg a blessing. [Kneels.^ 
 
 Thor. Take it : Let me wet 
 
 Thy cheeks with the last tears my griefs have left 
 
 me. 
 O Frank, Frank, Frank ! 
 
 Frank. Let me beseech you, gentlemen, 
 
 To comfort my old father, keep him with you ;
 
 4^4- THE WITCH OF EDMONTON. ACT V. 
 
 Lov^e this distressed widow; and as often 
 As you remember what a graceless man 
 1 was, remember likewise that these are 
 Both free, both worthy of a better fate, 
 Than such a son or husband as I have been. 
 All help me with your prayers. On, on: 'tis just 
 That law should purge the guilt of blood and lust. 
 
 [//c is led o^ by the officers. 
 
 Car. Go thy ways : 1 did not think to have shed 
 one tear for thee, but thou hast made me water my 
 plants 'spite of my heart. Master Thorney, cheer 
 up man, whilst 1 can stand by you, you shall not 
 want help to keep you from falling. We have lost 
 our children both on's the wrong way, but we can- 
 not help it : better or worse, 'tis now as 'tis. 
 
 T/wr. I thank you, sir, you are more kind than I 
 Have cause to hope or look for. 
 
 Car. Master Somerton, is Kate yours or no? 
 
 Som. We are agreed. 
 
 Katli. And, but my faith is pass'd, I should fear 
 to be married, husbands are so cruelly unkind. Ex- 
 cuse me that 1 am troubled. 
 
 Som. Thou shalt have no cause. 
 
 Jusl\ lake comfort, mistress Winnifrede. Sir 
 Arthur, 
 For his abuse to you and to your husband, 
 Is by the bench enjoin'd to pay you down 
 A thousand merks, 
 
 Sir Ar. Which 1 will soon discharge. 
 
 Win. Sir, 'tis too great a sum to be employ'd 
 Upon my funeral. 
 
 Car. Come, come: if luck had scrv'd, Sir Arthur, 
 and every man had his due, somebody might have 
 tottered ere this, without paying fines: like it as 
 
 ' JustJ] This 8i)ccch is given to Carter in the original. It 
 tTidently belongs to the Justice.
 
 SCENE II. THE WITCH OF EDMONTON. 495 
 
 you list. Come to me, Winnifrede, 'shalt be wel- 
 come. Make much of her, Kate, I charge you : I 
 do not think but she's a good wench, and hath had 
 wrong as well as we. So let's every man home to 
 Edmonton with heavy hearts, yet as merry as we 
 can, though not as we would. 
 
 Just. Join friends in sorrow ; make of all the 
 best : 
 Harms past may be lamented, not redrest. 
 
 [Exeunt.
 
 EPILOGUE. 
 
 Spoken by Winnifrede. 
 
 I AM a widow still, and must not sort 
 A second choice, without a good report ; 
 Which tho' some widows find, and few deservCj 
 Yet I dare not presume, but will not swerve 
 From modest hopes. All noble tongues are free ; 
 The gentle may speak one kind word for me. 
 
 Phen . 
 
 * Fhen.'\ Probably the name of the actor who spoke the epilogue in the 
 character of ^V^innifrede. William Penn, most Ukely the person meant, was 
 one of tlie actors mentioned in the second folio edition of Beaumont and 
 Fletcher, as liaving performed some characters in their plays. Or it may 
 possibly Lave been Andrew Pennycnik, who has been mentioned in the notes 
 to the preoeding play, and as be is known to have acted the parts of women, 
 net improbably personated the character of Winoifixide in this drama. 
 
 s vol. II. I \
 
 GLOSSARIAL INDEX. 
 
 130 
 
 Abiliment, i, 326 
 Aches, i, 267 
 With advantage, ii, 
 Affects, i, 363 
 Affected, i, 61 
 Affronted, ii, 90 
 Air, ii, 262 
 Alcatote, ii, 186 
 Amoretta, ii, 349 
 An, i, 180 
 Anatomy, i, 376 
 
 ii, 374, 415 
 
 Antick, i, 304, 345, 404 
 
 ii, 144, 390 
 
 Antick garb, ii, 161 
 Antick motions, i, 210 
 Apparent, i, 313 
 ApproTcd, i, 320 
 Aranjucs muria, ii, 350 
 Argozil, ii, 293 
 Arras, i, 153 
 Associate, i, 443 
 Atomies, i, 440 
 Atoned, ii, 391 
 
 Back turned against the sun, ii, 
 
 431 
 Baited, ii, 331 
 Bald, ii, 358 
 Bandied, ii, 257} 435 
 B?indy, i, 215 
 
 Bandy, ii, 196, 210 
 
 Banquet, i, 131 
 
 Barbed horses, ii, 82 
 
 Barn, ii, 383 
 
 Batten, ii, 74 
 
 Bauble, ii, 348 
 
 Beadsman, ii, 62 
 
 Bear.leach, i, 209 
 
 Bedlam, i, 179 
 
 Berengenas, ii, 350 
 
 Bergamom, ii, 350 
 
 Bevers, i, 360 
 
 Bewray, i, 15, 354 
 
 Bilboa, ii, 254 
 
 Binal, ii, 457 
 
 Bird, Theophilus, ii, 225 
 
 Black dog, the devil in the shape 
 
 of one, ii, 428 
 Blear, i, 161 
 Blowze, ii, 266 
 Bolt, i, 271 
 Bononie, ii, 212 
 Boot, i, 155 
 Bosom, i, 424 
 Botchers, i, 134 
 Bots, ii, 270 
 Bourd, i, 44 
 Brach, i, 131 
 Branch'd velvet, ii, 457 
 Bravadoes, ii, 135 
 Brave, ii, 250, 347
 
 500 
 
 GLOSSARIAL INDEX. 
 
 Bravery, ii, 139, 331 
 Breathe, ii, 204 
 Breathing, ii, 70 
 Broached, i, 232 
 Broadstreet, Ann, ii, 391 
 Bruited, ii, 465 
 Bugs words, ii, 57 
 Bulchin, i, 168 
 Bulk, ii, 274 
 But, i, 288 
 , ii, 80, 353 
 Buzzards, ii, 296 
 
 Call, i, 65 
 
 Cap and knee, ii, 335 
 Capeorettas, ii, 349 
 Careful, ii, 30, 59 
 Careless, i, 322 
 Carriage, i, 152 
 
 .ii,47, 144, 179,307, 
 
 408 
 Casting.bottle, ii, 127 
 Castrels, ii, 296 
 Cause, i, 313 
 
 Chair with an engine, i, 316 
 Change of parentage, i, 353 
 Chaplet, i, 238 
 Charily, ii, 137 
 Charm, i, 146 
 Chary, i, 360 
 Checkcr-ap. roved, ii, 129 
 Checkmate, i, 195 
 Chiefly, i, 308 
 Chopinc, i, 391 
 Chouses, ii, 256 
 Chrisome, ii, 187 
 Citterii.headed, ii, 128 
 Citterns, i, 141 
 Clabhure, ii, 53 
 Clapdish, i, 400 
 Clipt, i, 72 
 Codlings, hot, ii, 369 
 Codpiece, i, 53 
 Cogging, ii, 337 
 
 CoiU ii, 35 
 Coited ofF, ii, 359 
 Cokes, ii, 173 
 Cold as hemlock, i, 357 
 Companion, ii, 145 
 Concord, i, 261 
 Confirm, ii, 421 
 Confirmed, ii, 199 
 Consent, i, 191 
 Consents, i, 311 
 Consort, i, 197, 332 
 
 , ii, 55, 362 
 
 Contents, i, 215, 295 
 
 , ii, 175 
 
 Copes.mate, ii, 303 
 Corantos, ii, 349 
 Correspondency, i, 353 
 Costcrmonger, ii, 373 
 Cot-quean, i, 14 
 Couch, i, 208 
 Counterfeit, i, 380 
 Countrywoman, i, 400 
 Courtship, i, 130 
 
 , ii, 122 
 
 Coxcomb, i, 179, 409 
 
 ., ii, 41, 361, 471 
 
 Crabbed age and youth, &c. ii 
 
 185 
 Crack.ropc, ii, 131 
 Craven, i, 13 
 Cris|)cd, i, 188 
 Crotchetcd, i, 156 
 Cuckold's haven, ii, 436 
 Cunning, i, 33, 125 
 Current, i, 258 
 
 Dammed, i, 24>9 
 Dared, i, 31 
 Deboshed, ii, 315 
 Defame, ii, 65 
 Dckker, Thomas, ii, 321 
 Demur, i, 259 
 Dcstrved, ii, 71 
 Determined, i, 319
 
 GLOSSARIAL INDEX. 
 
 501 
 
 Determining, ii, 325 
 
 Devil in the shape of a black 
 
 dog, ii, 428 
 Discoursing, ii, 279 
 Dis vir di Gonzado, ii, 293 
 Division, i, 124' 
 Dog-leaches, i, 186 
 
 , ii, 183 
 
 Dolent, ii, 66 
 Dolphin, i, 120 
 Don, ii, 480 
 Dotage, i, 176 
 Drone, i, 163 
 Duel, i, 329 
 Dumb-shows, i, 414 
 Dunce, table, ii, 393 
 
 Eaglet, ii, 435 
 Eftsoon, ii, 285 
 Else, i, 443 
 English dress, i, 350 
 
 pale, ii, 92 
 
 Engrossed, i, 284 
 Entertained, i, 271 
 Entertainment, ii, 175 
 Ever, ii, 2i)4 
 Expressing, ii, 375 
 Extremes, ii, 275 
 Extremity, i, 157 
 
 Fac'd, ii, 343 
 Fadged, ii, 159 
 Fancies, ii, 129 
 Fan'd, i, 381 
 Farewell 1538, ii, 336 
 Feathers, ii 392 
 Fillet, i, 328 
 Firk, i, 187, 279 
 
 , ii, 418 
 
 Firked, ii, 260 
 Fitting, i, 235 
 Flam, ii, 442 
 Fleshed, i, 443 
 Foiled, ii, 196 
 Foist, ii, 128, 169 
 Foisting, ii, 336 
 
 Fond, i, 9, 153 
 
 , ii, 154 
 
 Fool's bauble, i, 19 
 Fool's paradise, ii, 348 
 Foot-cloth, i, 130 
 Forefend, i, 315 
 Fore-horse, ii, 426 
 Fore-gallant, ii, 426 
 Forerunner, i, 128 
 For, ii, 4i9 
 Forespeak, ii, 423 
 For that, ii, 244 
 Four seasons, &c. ii, 391 
 Fox, ii, 80 
 Fox, i, 438 
 France, i, 349 
 Free suspicion, ii, 157 
 Frequent, i, 422 
 
 , ii, 193 
 
 Fresh suited, ii, 1 34 
 Frippery, ii, 268 
 Fripperies, ii, 135 
 
 Galliards, ii, 349 
 Gallimaufry, i, 77 
 Gammer Gurton, ii, 471 
 Game of vapours, ii, 361 
 Garboil, i, 161 
 
 , Ii, -3 
 
 Garland of good will, i, 301 
 Geer, i, 14 
 
 , ii, 168 
 
 Girds, i, 407 
 Girl, i, 207 
 
 , ii, 41 
 
 Glibbe, ii, 57 
 Good morrows, ii, 354 
 Good year, i, 154 
 Gorge, i, 161 
 Gorget, ii, 48 
 Government, i, 11 
 Granted, i, 289 
 Griping, i, 186 
 Grogrum, i, 360 
 Guarded, i, 128 
 Guerdon, ii, 250
 
 602 
 
 GLOSSARIAL INDEX. 
 
 Gull, i, 128 
 
 Habited, ii, 57 
 Hab.nab, ii, 253 
 Haggards, ii, 296 
 Haled, i, 158 
 Hargubush, ii, 295 
 Harlekine, ii, 294 
 Harry, ii, 259 
 Hey-day, i, 77 
 Hey-de-gay, ii, 179 
 Hey-hoes, ii, 377 
 Hench-boy, ii, 231 
 Hobbyhorse, ii, 458 
 Hogermogen, ii, 256 
 Holla, ii, 234 
 Hubbubs, ii, 46 
 Huddle, i, 190, 252 
 Huddling, i, 333 
 Hugger-mugger, i, 54 
 Humorous, i, 81 
 Humour, ii, 360 
 
 Humour, ii, 360 
 Hydrophobia, i, l77 
 Hypochondriacal, i, 
 
 280 
 
 Jades, i, 158 
 Jawsand, ii, 361 
 Idle, i, 170 
 
 , ii, 238, 473 
 
 Jig, i, 396 
 
 Jigs, ii, 52, 349, 358 
 
 Jig-maker, i, 371 
 
 Index, i, 322 
 
 Indirection, ii, 62 
 
 Ingenious, ii, 126 
 
 Ingeniously, i, 138 
 
 Inlcague, i, 285 
 
 Innocent, i, 19, 30, 131, 398 
 
 , ii, 186 
 
 Intended, ii, 61 
 Intendments, ii, 122 
 Interesscd, ii, 304 
 Intreats, i, 351 
 Intrenching, i, 270 
 
 7 
 
 Jogg, ii, 354 
 Irish-hubbubs, ii, 46 
 Issue, i, 239 
 jump, ii, 73, 168, 184 
 
 Ka me one good turn, I'll kob 
 
 you another, ii, 432 
 Kind, i, 176 
 Kites, ii, 296 
 Knack, ii, 128 
 
 Ijand-Ioper, ii, 100 
 Lands begged, i, 421 
 Largess, i, 302 
 
 , ii, 51, 270 
 
 Lavolta, ii, 350 
 Laurel, ii, 344 
 Leash, ii, 425 
 Libbed, ii, 131 
 Lie, ii, 354 
 Lifted, ii, 99 
 Liked, i, 51 
 Limn, i, 182 
 Limned, ii, 237 
 Lisping, ii, 261 
 List, i, 299 
 
 , ii, 26 
 
 Little, i, 167 
 
 Livery, i. 294 
 
 Live with me, ii, 351 
 
 Look, i, 320 
 
 Looking-glasses at the girdle, 
 
 ii, 127 
 Look'st, i, 319 
 Lord-ascendant, i, 309 
 Lubrick, ii, 451 
 Lure, ii, 187 
 Lycanthropia, i, 176 
 
 Malaga potatoes, ii, 350 
 Malice, ii, 275 
 Man, i, 73 
 Manage, i, 368 
 Man a quean, ii, 304
 
 GLOSSARIAL INDEX. 
 
 503 
 
 Man in the moon, ii, 351 
 Mankind, i, 172 
 
 , ii, 257 
 
 Marablane, ii, 350 
 Marchpane, ii, 350 
 Marquess, i, 364 
 Marts, i, 210 
 Matted, i, 273 
 Maugre, i, 445 
 
 , ii, 336 
 
 Maw, i, 405 
 Maygame, i, 28, 127 
 Mazer, ii, 187 
 Mean, i, 354 
 
 , ii, 425 
 
 Merry devil of Edmonton, ii, 
 
 448 
 Mewed, ii, 1 81 
 Mewes, i, 254 
 Minding, i, 367 
 Mistery, ii, 381 
 Mistress of the trim, ii, 
 Mockado, ii, 249 
 Moderators, i, 271 
 Moil, i, 301 
 
 , ii, 151 
 
 Monarchies, i, 144 
 Moods, i, 125 
 Morion, i, 187 
 Morris, ii, 344, 425, 426 
 Mortal, i, 299 
 Motions, i, 45 
 Mumbled, i, 206 
 Muscadine, ii, 74 
 
 179 
 
 Nap, ii, 206 
 Need, ii, 125 
 Niceness, i, ^44 
 Nick, ii, 76 
 Nimbeler, i, 370 
 Noble, ii, 263 
 Nonce, i, 83 
 North, ii, 384 
 Novels, ii, 192 
 
 Oat-meals, ii, 334 
 Oh, rich ! ii, 168 
 Omens, i, 321 
 Orijones, ii, 350 
 Ought, i, 321 
 Ouzle, i, 149 
 Owes, i, 437 
 
 ii, 237 
 
 Owing, i, 16 
 Oyes, ii, 363 
 
 Pad, ii, 304 
 Pageants, ii, 140 
 Painted cloth, ii, 142 
 Painted fires, ii, 13 
 Pampered jade of Asia, ii, 363 
 Paper-plot, i, 175 
 Parator, i, 398 
 Parmasent, i, 29 
 Part, ii, 369 
 Partage, i, 20 
 
 , ii, 61, 105 
 
 Partake, ii, 72 
 Particular, i, ] 39 
 Pashed, ii, 269 
 Pashing, i, 125 
 Pass, i, 352 
 Passionate, ii, 439 
 Patient, ii, 190 
 Pavin, i, 19 
 
 ., ii, 253 
 
 Payned hose, ii, 468 
 Peevish, i, 10, 406 
 
 , ii, 182, 471 
 
 Penny cuick, A. ii, 324 
 Period, i, 447 
 Perish, ii, 137 
 Perished, ii, 182 
 Petruccio, i, 345 
 Phen, ii, 497 
 Phrenitis, i, 179 
 Piamettas, ii, 349 
 Pink, ii, 268 
 Pisa, ii, 254
 
 504 
 
 GLOSSARIAL INDEX. 
 
 Plain.song, ii, 342 
 Plot, i. 310 
 Pluck a crow, ii, 383 
 Pleurisy, ii, 181 
 Ponadoes, li, 350 
 Putgun. proof, ii, 325 
 Pottiug-stick, i, 416 
 Powder the hair, i, 373 
 Practice, i, 196 
 Prefer, ii, 46 
 Preferred, ii, 203 
 Prefers, i, 325 
 Pregnant, ii, 157, 186, 
 Presence, i, 403, 404 
 Presenters, ii, 57 
 Pretence, i, 408 
 Prick-eared, li, 128 
 Prick-song, ii, 342 
 Process, i, 399 
 Proof, I, 362 
 Property, i, 277 
 Provincial, i, 238 
 Puckfist, i, 371 
 Pudder, ii, 172 
 Purchase, ii, 195 
 
 Quab, i, 175 
 Quail, i, 310 
 Quean, ii, 42 
 Quelliu, ii, 249 
 Query, i, 365 
 Quest, ii, 51 
 Quick, i, 58 
 
 , ii, 421 
 
 Quicken, i, 354 
 Quit, i, 367 
 
 -, ii, 196, 257 
 
 Quite, i, 117 
 
 Rarely, i, 46 
 Head, i, 147 
 Reading, ii, 446 
 Read me, ii, 382 
 Rebels, ii, 386 
 Recorders, ii, 337 
 
 Remarked, i, 46 
 Rent, i, 446 
 Resolve, i, 39, 123 
 Resolved, i, 360, 433 
 
 , ii, 244, 254, 416 
 
 Resolves, ii, 23 
 Resolute, i, 322 
 Resolution, i, 354 
 Rest, i, 73 
 Reverence, ii, 198 
 Roarers, ii, 303 
 Roaring, i, 163 
 242 Roaring boys, ii, 333, 417 
 
 Round, i, 169,212 
 
 , ii, 379 
 
 Rouse, ii, 378 
 Rowley, William, ii, 399 
 Rubs, i, 251 
 Ruffles, ii, 201 
 
 Sadnes,s i, 24 
 
 St Vitus's dance, i, 181 
 
 Sanazzar, i, 35 
 
 Saw, i, 299 
 
 Say, i, 368 
 
 Scambling, i, 433 
 
 , ii, 135 
 
 Seared, i, 92 
 Seeled, i, 256 
 Servant, i, 137, 395 
 Set up a rest, i, 93 
 Shrift, i, 62 
 Shrive, ii, 47 
 Shuttlecock, i, 131 
 Side, ii, 21 
 Sided, ii, 236 
 Singular, ii, 195 
 Sinkadoes, ii, 350 
 Sirrah, i, 156 
 Skonce, i, 53 
 Sledge, i, 1 12 
 Slight, i, 354 
 Slights, i, 239 
 Solicit, i, 203 
 Sometimes, ii, 26
 
 GLOSSARIAL INDEX. 
 
 605 
 
 Sooth, i, 149 
 Sorted, ii, 235 
 Sousing, ii, 367 
 Spain, i, 348 
 Spanish pike, ii, 348 
 Splay-footed, i, 321 
 Spleen, i, 366 
 Sprightful, i, 358, 447 
 Springal, i, 250, 278 
 Square, i, 189 
 Squire of low degree, i, 423 
 Stage directions, i, 330 
 Stale, i, 370 
 
 , ii, 417 
 
 State, ii, 56 
 States, i, 371 
 Statist, ii, 177 
 Stead, ii, 262 
 
 Stiletto on his chin, ii, 160 
 Stover, i, 369 
 Strain, ii, 190 
 Strappado, ii, 358 
 Style, i, 353 
 Suburbs, i, 422 
 Sudden, ii, 205 
 Suddenly, i, 250 
 . ii 
 
 79 
 
 ,,i, 250 
 
 , ii, 154 
 
 Sufferance, ii, 66, * 
 Suffrage, ii, 75 
 Supple, i, 298 
 Suppositors, i, 133 
 Surfell, i, 373 
 Surqucdry, ii, 174 
 Swabber, ii, 16 
 Swart, Martin, ii, 14 
 
 Table, i, 372, 396 
 Table-books, i, 353 
 Tablet, i, 211 
 Take hedge, ii, 296 
 Tall, ii, 86 
 Tallied, i, 294 
 Tang, ii, 190 
 Tatterdemallions, i, 163 
 Tayles, ii, 274 " 
 
 ^ VOL. II, 
 
 Team in a morris, ii, 426 
 Tent, i, 318 
 
 Tobacco, II, 392 
 Toledo, ii, 254, 350 
 Too, i, 320 
 Toss-pot, i, 193 
 
 , ii, 184 
 
 Toss the pike, i, 142 
 Totters, ii, 334 
 Tragedy, i, 437 
 Trencher, i, 129 
 Trim, i, 135, 160 
 
 , ii, 179 
 
 Trojan, i, 193 
 Trouls, ii, 168, 303 
 Trowling, ii, 53 
 Trowses, ii, 57 
 Try a jealousy, i, 281 
 
 Vained, i, 436 
 Vanden, ii, 256 
 Velvet tips, ii, 169 
 Velvet branched, ii, 457 
 UnsouI'd, i, 369 
 Unterm'd, i, 410 
 Unwampt, ii, 229 
 Voiced, i, 376 
 Voicing, i. 239 
 
 Waghalter, ii, 131 
 Wait, ii, 47 
 Waits, ii, 354 
 Wand, ii, 355 
 Wannion, ii, 185 
 Wassel-bowl, ii, 131 
 AVearish, i, 433 
 Weaiion-pipe, ii, 186, 209 
 Whisk, i, 163 
 Whiskin, ii, 131, 18* 
 K k
 
 506 
 
 GLOSSARIAL INDEX. 
 
 White-boy, i, 29 
 "Wild Irish, ii, 57 
 Wit, i, 128 
 
 Witches common, ii, 443 
 Wittol, ii, 142 
 Woman.surgeon, i, 131 
 Woodcock, i, 140 
 
 World and man, ii, 325 
 Worm, ii, 183 
 Wormed, i, 16 
 Wrack, ii, 282 
 Wriggle, i, 188 
 
 Zanies, ii, Q6 
 
 THE ND. 
 
 ERRATA. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 Vi 74, line 27, /or but now, read but how. 
 178, notes, line S^for Edin. read London. 
 330, 5^ for Pilgrim, read Love's Pilgrimage. 
 
 349, 7, /or Monstruo, read El Monstruo. 
 
 371, 20, /or ratter, rearf r utter. 
 
 392, line 12, /or sending, read send. 
 420, 17) for go too, read go to. 
 
 VOL. IL 
 
 P. 321, line 1 2, /or Satiromastrix, rcaJ Satiromastix. 
 
 Em N BURGH : 
 
 Printed by Georee Kanisay & Co. 
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